The camera opens up to a high shot over the Dunkin' Donuts Center, fans are already having a good time and the show has not even started yet. It moves down and shows the Chosen in the front row, as stoic and unmoving as ever before continuing to show a couple dressed up as Mia and Ataxia holding a sign "A Match Made in...Heaven?" and a few of our fan faction staples, such as the Ataxiarmy, the Starr Fuckers, the Dorianoholics Anonymous and more. On it moves to the stage and the entrance to show the usual welcome team of...nobody? Suddenly the tron flickers and a somewhat tilted picture of Blake Church and Charles State fades in, both looking rather dishevelled and apparently sitting on the roof of the arena!
Blake Church: Good evening Providence!
The crowd cheers.
Charles State: You might be wondering what happened and where we are...
Blake Church: Well, we were doing Church vs. State up here last night and... Well, looks like a few people kind of forgot that we were on the roof, so yeah, we had to build a shelter with the supplies we could scrunge together--
He points at their desk.
Blake Church: We collected rain water and had to hunt for our food. Turns out there is not a whole lot of wild life getting lost far enough to find its way here...
Charles State: Anyways, this has the potential to be one of the most controversial Evolutions ever with some somewhat odd match setups in our final show before Golden Intentions, so without much further ado I hand the reigns to his horse over to Jim Gunt and I see that Mike has made it, too. (muttering under his breath) I have to invest in better locks...
In this moment Blake Church steps in front of the camera, his whole face filling the screen.
Blake Church: NOW GET US DOWN HERE!!!
Cut to the announce table.
Jim Gunt: Wow, I was wondering where they were! And what locks is Charles talking about?
Mike Rolash: Someone tried to lock me into my locker room!
Jim Gunt: Ah! I'll have to tell Charles where I get mine.
Mike Rolash: So tonight-- Wait, wha-?
We cut backstage to see Amber Ryan at the catering table, contemplating a plate of stuffed quahogs - the Rhode Island delicacy known as “stuffies”. She briefly reaches for the plate of “hot weiners” before remembering the jokes Mike Rolash will doubtlessly make, rolling her eyes, and instead choosing the clam cakes.
Female voice, off-screen: Amber.
The camera swings around to show the World Champion, Caledonia.
Amber: Cali. What’s up.
Caledonia: Um. Well.
The World Champion is uncharacteristically flustered.
Caledonia: There’s something I have to ask you, and it’s rather awkward…
Amber: Oh for fuck’s sake, I don’t know how Eris convinced you to ask me this time, but I’m not going to act out Ambedonia fiction with you… how did they convince you?
Caledonia: It’s not about that.
Caledonia: It’s never about that. Actually, it’s about our match at Golden Intentions. I need you to watch something with me, and then I’d like us to go to Rish’s office and make a change.
Amber looks nonplussed, with a hint of anger.
Caledonia: Just - do this as a favor to me? As a friend. You’ll see why.
Caledonia: I have to go take care of something. Meet me in my locker room later?
Amber (under her breath): Win the Unhinged briefcase match, they said… nice, simple title shot, they said…
There is a CWF logo backdrop hanging over a bare wall.
Standing in front of said backdrop is the CWF’s most ravishing roving reporter, Tara Robinson. As usual she’s got a very “all business” look on her face. She begins.
Tara Robinson: Tonight, once again, I have the opportunity to interview this man…
Into the scene walks Eric Dane, he’s still suited up in his finest street attire. A pair of Maybach sunshades rest easily over the brim of his nose and his smile is casual, resting if you will.
Tara Robinson: It’s good to see you again, Mr. Dane.
Eric Dane: Likewise, I’m sure.
Tara Robinson: This evening you’ve got a-
Eric Dane: [interrupting] Tonight myself and Mariella Jade are stuck in a punishment match against two guys who don’t even know each other. I believe my partner has already said everything that needed to be said about that match and what we think about it.
Tara Robinson: Speaking of your tag team partner again this week, MJ Flair, can she look forward to another week of you being absent until the last possible moment, or are you planning on being an actual tag team partner this time out?
The Only Star is mildly entertained by the sheer ballsiness of the question. He waits for a moment, choosing his words very specifically before replying.
Eric Dane: For starters, what happened last week before I was scheduled to wrestle is nobody's business but my own. I was there with bells on when the music played and we walked out to the ring and started kicking heads in with ZERO PROBLEMS. Maybe you weren’t paying attention, but until it became a blatant handicapped match out there MJ and I were right in the middle of beating their eyes out for them.
Tara Robinson: You’re evading the question, Mr. Dane.
Eric Dane: Maybe I am. The fact of the matter is this, I had a pretty good idea that before too long I was going to end up on the wrong side of those Kool-aid drinking mongoloids, and so I was busy doing business during the show. As it turns out, I don’t have to come out here and preen and posture in front of the camera to get the job done, get it?
She presses him.
Tara Robinson: So you were…?
She allows the question to hang in the air. Eric studies her, not sure if he should laugh, scream, or give a straight answer.
Eric Dane: You’re a persistent one, aren’t y-
Before Dane can even get the words out of his mouth a third party very deliberately walks on set from stage right and sidles up beside The Only Star. Eric smiles and turns back to an absolutely gobsmacked Tara Robinson. The interviewer takes in this figure with his sheared bald head, mounds of haggis fueled muscle packed tightly into a fine grey and brown pinstripe three piece suit… freshly waxed mustache twitching ever so slightly as his lip curls in anticipation.
Tara Robinson: You’re…
The BAWSman’s cocksure grin grows even wider.
Eric Dane: He’s Bronson fuckin’ Box, that’s who he is… so was that little spot of business worth my time, you tell me Tara...
Box narrows his eyes at the young woman.
Tara Robinson: Didn’t you… aren’t you… I thought you were retired!
Boxer looks back at Eric who just chuckles and shakes his head.
Eric Dane: Go ahead brother, do your goddamn thing. Show these pricks what they’re gunna’ be dealing with.
The Scottish wrecking ball that is the Bombastic Bronson Box takes a few small but commanding steps towards Tara, reaching out and slowly taking the microphone from her fingers. She acquiesces and takes a few nervous steps backward… having obviously heard the horror stories of how Boxer oft treats unsuspecting backstage interviewers. He slowly turns his wild bloodshot brown eyes from Tara and towards the camera. Towards us.
Bronson Box: I could stand here all day and fill the blasted air with stories of the nasty awful things what I’ve done to get where I am in this business. I could regail the lot of you with tales of The Wargod stompin’ his fookin’ legacy out of the weak and feeble minded pricks that thought for even a MOMENT they could step to me and the chaos I can conjure with a snap’a my fookin’ fingers...
The entire time Bronson is talking the smile never leaves Eric Dane’s face.
Boxer takes a few quick commanding steps towards the camera. His gnarled mustachioed face almost filling the screen now. He licks his lips and gives it a few beats before continuing.
Bronson Box: I won’t have to. Not after I start swingin’... Them cult pricks? Every single sorry soul in this cockamamie battle royal? Top to bottom...
He leans in a little closer.
Bronson Box: I’m gunna’ start fookin’ SHREADIN’ this place.
A strange little smile. And just like that the unhinged presence of the Bombastic Bronson Box stomps off, exiting stage left. He tosses the microphone into Tara Robinson’s nervous hands as he goes. The interviewer slowly steps back up to Eric Dane, still grinning like the cat that caught the canary.
Tara Robinson: That was… ummm…
Eric Dane: THAT was why you never question my motives ever again, kid. Everything that I do, every single little thing, is deliberate and filled with purpose. I took the time I needed to secure Boxer a contract that allowed him to show up here in the CWF tonight so that everybody could get a damn good look at the kind of crazy that I have domain over, get it?
Tara blinks. Bewildered.
Eric Dane: As much as everyone would like it to be purely business around here, a series of matches fueled by fair play and sportsmanship, I’m here to tell you that it’s not. It’s a goddamned dumpster fire around here, and I’m here to fight fire with fire.
Eric Dane: Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a fork to lift...
The Only Star gives Tara a smirk before he starts off after Boxer.
Jim Gunt: There is something brewing with Caledonia and Amber and I am not sure what.
Mike Rolash: A nice cup of Java!?
Jim Gunt: Cali's British, so rather would be tea, but no, something is afoot with their match at Golden Intentions!
Mike Rolash: Ah! Gotcha. Yes, it is odd to get this kind of secrecy. And what about Eric Dane's newest friend here, Bronson Box? Looks like they are starting to form their own stable now!
Jim Gunt: Indeed, and he looks like a pretty formidable fighter as well, but let's go to the first match of the evening, since Ray Douglas is giving us the stink eye here, Xander Haze is facing off against a new face in CWF, but by no means a newcomer, the Man of Steele, Clark Steele is going to step into the ring in the maybe first ever purely Canadian match up in CWF history!
The arena goes dark as Coheed & Cambria's "Welcome Home" starts to play. When the chorus hits, a spotlight hits the top of the ramp. Xander is right there, wearing a hooded black sweater with the hood up. He slowly makes his way down to the ring as the spotlight follows him. He steps into the ring, takes a seat in the corner and waits for the bell to ring.
Ray Douglas: The next match is scheduled for one fall! At the ring first, from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada - XANDER HAZE!
Jim Gunt: I know Xander was a prick, but he recently tried to flat out kill young Zachary Vaughn, formerly known as Impakt. I mean what the fuck.
Mike Rolash: Maybe he has OCD as well as Cerebral Palsy and hated the misspelling of Impact?
Jim Gunt: For real?
Ray Douglas: And his opponent, hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada - The Greatest Professional Wrestler of All Time! CLARK STEELE!
The arena becomes pitch black, the fans beginning to stir with anticipation. Suddenly the word, “Greatness Has Arrived” displays on the CWF Trim as “Won't Back Down” by Eminem starts up through the PA system. A red carpet is seen being rolled out from the stage, down the aisle.
A spotlight shines down on the middle of the stage, which is occupied now by Clark Steele. His back is to the crowd, arms outstretched into the air in an arrogant pose. Clark spins towards the stage, pompously putting his putting his nose in the air. He slowly makes his descent down the carpet, purposely ignoring the hands of fans at ringside. Finally making it to ringside, he walks up the steps, wiping his feet off on the apron, before entering the ring. After removing his customized vest, he folds it neatly and hands it to the ringside attendant. He positions himself in his designated corner, adjusting his trunks, waiting for the bell to ring.
Jim Gunt: The crowd has not forgotten his memorable introduction in Boston last week and is raining down boos on the man, who very clearly does not give a rat's ass about them!
With the sound of the starting bell the Man of Steele and the Gimp advance towards each other. The ever-spiteful Xander strikes first, lashing out with a side knee strike that doubles over his opponent, Clark Steele. A stiff fist to the side of the head follows close behind. With Clark clearly stunned by the blow, Xander attempts to lock in the Green Haze submission.
Mike Rolash: Going for the submission victory. Imagine if Clark taps out in these opening seconds of the match?!
Jim Gunt: Very doubtful.
Mike Rolash: Yeah, but, like, just imagine.
Clark denies a secure application of the match-ending submission hold, throwing Xander down to the mat with a modified hip toss. As the Gimp tries to stand and recover, the Man of Steele follows up with a standing, leaping clothesline. He hooks the leg for a pin attempt.
Xander kicks out!
Jim Gunt: Sure, the clothesline looked devastating, but it’s still way too early for a pinfall.
Clark advances on the fallen foes to maintain his offensive, but Xander blocks a wild strike with his good arm. With a surge of energy, he barrels into Clark with a shoulder charge that sends the Man of Steele reeling back into the corner. Xander is on him in the blink of an eye, connecting with a running corner big boot. Xander Haze ascends to the top of the turnbuckle and without hesitation leaps into the air, coming down upon Clarke Steele with the Handicap. The self-proclaimed Greatest Wrestler of All Time waits until the last possible moment before rolling out of the firing line of the signature diving elbow drop. The Gimp crashes down, unceremoniously onto the ring mat.
Jim Gunt: That’s the second time Xander has attempted to end the match prematurely.
Mike Rolash: There’s a nasal spray for that.
The Man of Steele comes bouncing off the ropes, building up momentum then throws himself bodily into his opponent with a crossbody block, holding on for the pin attempt.
Xander kicks out!
Jim Gunt: Time and again Xander’s anger and rage, at, well, everybody, proves his undoing. Maybe one day he’ll learn.
Clark sets up for a snap suplex, but Xander hooks his leg around his opponents to block the move and retaliates with a series of stiff punches and kicks before hoisting Clark up and nailing him with an impressive brainbuster. He unleashes hell in the form of a frenzied, flurry of boots, raining down upon the Man of Steele.
Mike Rolash: It’s kind of working for him now though…
Xander releases an almighty bellow of rage as he continues to tenderise the hapless Clark Steele for several moments longer. Finally, the Gimp has his opponent back to a standing base, simply so he can forcibly shove him into the corner, with enough impact so that the Man of Steele stumbles back out of the corner and into a hellacious discus forearm from Xander, who drops down and hooks the leg for a pin attempt.
Clarke with his shoulder up!
Jim Gunt: I will say this. Xander has performed much better than I had anticipated. Especially considering his condition.
Mike Rolash: Yeah Jim. Get with 2018!
Jim Gunt: Says the biggest bigot I know.
Xander wraps his strong arm around Clarke’s waist and prepares for a near-deadlift German suplex. Coming to his senses in the nick of time, Clarke blocks the suplex, elbows Xander in the side of the head for his trouble and then breaks free from his significantly strong grasp. The Man of Steele wrenches Xander’s arm, straining it in its socket, and follows through smoothly into a tornado DDT. The head of Xander Haze is spiked hard into the mat.
Mike Rolash: How about some brain damage to go with the CP?
Jim Gunt: Isn’t that already the name of one of Xander’s signature moves?
Clark puts some distance between himself and Xander, allowing the Gimp only a brief moment of recovery time before charging in and connecting with a shining enzuigiri, the sharp and stiff impact resounding throughout the arena. Much to the satisfaction of many within the attending crowd. The Man of Steele, self-proclaimed greatest wrestler of all time, opts out of another pin attempt and motions for his patented Steele Kick to bring the match to a close.
Jim Gunt: Rumour has it there is no getting up after this impressive kick. What’s more Clark has been known to hit it from almost any situation.
Clark Steele lashes out with the kick, but Xander manages to duck safely underneath the signature strike then swings around and for the second time in the match attempts to lock in the Green haze submission.
Mike Rolash: It only works if he can manage to HIT the move right?
Clark fights desperately against the hold, and even though Xander manages to completely apply the move, the Man of Steele refuses to go down, thrashing and stumbling about.
Jim Gunt: The weight advantage of Xander slowly taking its toll. As valiantly as Clark is fighting back against the hold, he’ll eventually have to go down.
In a final moment of desperation, Clark, who is now down to his knees, summons every ounce of strength he has within himself and lunges backwards. So intent on his submission, Xander doesn’t realise the precarious situation he is in and refuses to relent the hold, until that is he is sandwiched between the full bulk of the Man of Steele and the immovable steel corner post.
Mike Rolash: Xander meet Steele…and ah…steel I suppose.
Jim Gunt: God your lame.
Mike Rolash: Shut Up! Your mum says I’m special!
Clark Steele needs the use of the ropes for support, slowly rising back to his feet to catch his breath. He pulls Xander out of the corner, twisiting him around and connecting with the Steele-Plex. Instead of holding on for the pin, or releasing the move, Clark keeps his grip and rolls both himself and the Gimp back to their feet, then reapplies the straight-jacket hold, from the waist to around Xander’s neck and seamlessly connects with the Crossface Halo, this time grabbing a leg for the pin.
Jim Gunt: What a combo! This has got to be it!
Ray Douglas: And the winner is - CLARK STEELE!
As he reaches for Steele's arm to lift it in victory, the Man of Steele forcefully tears it away and raises both arms on his own, as the crowd showers him with even more boos than before, even though he just pinned one of the most obnoxious and vicious wrestlers in CWF history.
Jim Gunt: Xander put up one hell of a fight, but in the end the experience of Steele prevailed, but this definitely has been a far tighter match than I had anticipated! But I hear that we have something happening backstage!
We cut backstage to Justin Rishel’s office. Before him, on the other side of his desk, stand the World Champion and the number one contender.
Rish (to Caledonia): So you want to change the match.
Rish (to Amber): And you consent to the match change?
The boss sighs.
Rish: Why? To both of you.
Caledonia: Omega is complicit in the torture of my husband. I want to tear her apart, and I don’t want to have to wait until potentially after WrestleFest to do it.
Amber: And while I’m not exactly fond of Dannikins, I was already pissed off with Elijah and Omega for manipulating us - now I find out they’re torturing my best friend’s husband. Let’s just say, I’m not averse to doing a little tearing myself.
Rish: And you do this in the full knowledge that you, Amber, still use your briefcase shot?
Caledonia: We’re done with Elijah and Omega’s manipulation. Time for war.
The arena lights cut out and the bright glow of the titantron draws all the attention of the crowd as the screen lights up with the words to "Kings Never Die..."' The camera pans down to the entrance lamp where now a single spotlight shines brightly behind Christian Starr.
HAAAAAAILLL TO THE KIIINNNNG!
The lights flare to an almost blinding intensity as Avenged Sevenfold's "Hail to the King" takes over the arenas P.A. system. As the lights adjust, there stands Christian STARR, a determined look in his eye and a grimace on his face, flanked by his usual entourage of the massive Payne to his left, and Allison Hollywood to his right with her arm wrapped around Christian's.
HAAAAILLLL TO THE OOONNNNE!
Starr turns around and starts backing his way down the entrance way with a clearly confident swagger to his step, he holds his arms outstretched and takes in the boos from the Rhode Island natives. Payne and Allison follow closely behind, egging on the crowd.
Ray Douglas: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the ring, the Former Paramount Champion... Christian STARR
Jim Gunt: Christian STARR. The ultimate loser of last week's Beat the Clock Challenge, and entrant number one in the Golden Intentions Rumble. He and Jarvis King will sign the contract to make their title rematch official, but that's not until later tonight. I wonder what he's doing out here?
Mike Rolash: Christian STARR is The King of Wrestling, Jimbo. He's got a proclomation to make, and by god he's going to make it!
Payne steps up onto the apron with a single stride as STARR mounts the turnbuckle, throwing up a “too sweet” to the crowd. Meanwhile Allison circles the ring to the timekeeper's area where she takes a microphone from the small table in their area. With the CWF branded mic in hand she slowly walks up the ring steps as a few of the men in the front row whistle at her, she flips them off and ducks under the middle rope.
Allison Hollywood: Ladies and gentlemen. Please give a warm, Rhode Island welcome to your next Paramount Champion, and the man who is going to go coast to coast at Golden Intentions. The one, the only, the incomparable King of Wrestling!
She delicately hands the microphone to Christian as the crowd rain down a chorus of boos. Christian rolls with the punches, letting the reaction roll right off his shoulders as Payne glares around the audience. He brings the mic to his lips.
Christian STARR: I've always told you people that I was number one! And I'll prove it.
Christian smirks. He seems proud of the fact.
Jim Gunt: Quite an odd reaction considering he is at a distinct disadvantange heading into the Rumble at Golden Intentions.
Christian STARR: Most people would shudder at the thought of entering the Rumble at number one, but not me. I welcome it with open arms! I embrace the challenge, I embrace the opportunity to outlast every single other person that's going to step into that ring at Golden Intentions. I am the best wrester in this company bar none, and the Rumble is nothing more than my chance to show up every single person on the roster. I'm not afraid, I'm not intimidated by a number. I am going to embarrass every single person that steps through that curtain.
Christian STARR: Everyone wants to talk about the opportunity of a lifetime. A shot at the big one. It's anybody's game, but it's not. It's my game. Christian STARR enters number one, and at the end of the night, Christian STARR is going to the thee one. The one left standing. The one left in the ring. The one going to WrestleFest to take on whoever's unlucky enough to leave Golden Intentions as the World Champion.
Christian STARR: And you know what that means, right? It means that at WrestleFest, Christian STARR is walking out as the only man worth a damn, because I will be walking out of the biggest event of the year with my head held high, with not one but two championships, as the only man in history to hold BOTH the Paramount and World Championships at the same time.
Christian STARR: Mark my words. Come Golden Intentions: The King is taking his throne.
With that Christian drops the microphone to the mat with a thud, a perfect cue for his music to once again take over the PA System as he exits the ring between the ropes. However, Payne seems to be taking his time. He is in no rush to follow STARR, and instead takes a moment to look behind him, up towards the giant WrestleFest sign that hangs in the rafters.
Jim Gunt: A big promise from Christian STARR there, but its going to take a lot to back it up come Golden Intentions. Not only will he have to beat Jarvis King in order to regain the Paramount Championship, but he will also have to outlast perhaps the most stacked rumble in the events history. Including the monster of a man that stands behind him.
Mike Rolash: It's the perfect plan, Payne can lay everyone to waste and Christain can swoop in and dazzle everyone by being the last man standing!
Jim Gunt: I wouldn't be so sure about that, Mike.
Amber and Caledonia walk to the ring, Caledonia carrying the CWF world heavyweight championship on her shoulder. No music, no fanfare, they both all but ignore the fans as they make their way forward.
Jim Gunt: After tonight's revelations, and Amber and Caledonia's meeting earlier, no doubt these two are out for blood!
They reach the ring, Cali gestures for a mic.
Caledonia: Omega! You know why we're here and you know what we want. No excuses, no delays, no more fucking lies. Caledonia, Amber and Omega, Golden Intentions. Let's see what you -
The lights flicker, unsteady, go out altogether. The big screen springs to life. The footage is in black and white, the sound of an old, creaking organ in the background. A title card reads “MALICE IN WONDERLAND”.
A sing-song voice rings out, cheerful…
Omega: Here comes a candle to light you to bed
Here comes a chopper to chop off your head!
Chip, chop, chip, chop…
The title card fades. We are in an enormous warehouse, all but deserted, the words “Omega's Funhouse!” painted on the wall in childlike scrawl.
The walls are lined with mirrors, done huge, floor-length, others tiny, nailed to the wall. Some are pristine, others smeared with dirt and blood. The floor is littered with broken dolls, stuffed animals with their eyes gouged out, a cat that died long ago stuffed and left to grin inanely for decades.
Every so often, the mess is interspersed with CWF memorabilia. Here, a photo from 2009, the glory days of the Insurgency. Alex Cain, Elijah, Omega and Amber stand together, arm in arm, bloodied and triumphant. There, footage from the Academy plays on a broken tablet, Omega overseeing Caledonia, James Skelton, Eris and all the rest.
We continue on. In the centre of the warehouse flashback sits a wrestling ring. Omega is in its centre, cross-legged, springing to her feet as we approach.
Omega: Well, well, well.
If this video is now being shown, that can only mean one thing. The truth of our arrangement with the Order of the Oncoming Storm has been revealed. No doubt Miss Cal-Cal is out for revenge - Amber too, if you can get off that fence you've been sitting on for the past few months.
I want to bring you both into my world, take you through the looking glass and give you a glimpse, just a tiny taste, of why my lover and I do what we do.
A little affair I call Malice in Wonderland.
The rules are simple. Two opposing sides of the ring have ropes embedded with shards of broken glass. On the other sides, the ropes are removed, sheets of glass laid outside, horizontal in line with the ring. Elimination rules, go through one of the sheets and you're out.
Mirrors surround the ring.
No excuses, no retreat, no surrender. Time to shatter our illusions and confront reality.
I'm ready if you are.
I don't hate you, Amber, Caledonia. I never have and never will. But nor will I apologise for doing what needed to be done. This is no time for moderation, nor for neutrality. The fight against the Institute is a war. All wars have casualties.
Just one little question remains. Like I said, this video was recorded some time ago. So you shouldn't really be listening to what I had to say then. You should be asking - where am I now?
She blows a kiss to the camera. The video cuts out, the lights raise, revealing Omega standing in the ring, wearing a thick glove studded with chunks of broken glass.
Caledonia turns, just in time to catch Omega as she swings a fist in her direction. Omega smacks Caledonia directly in the face, opening up a dozen tiny wounds. Caledonia stumbles backwards, falls, Omega standing above her with raised fist.
Jim Gunt: Oh my God!
Mike Rolash: This is a side of Little Miss O we've never seen before!
Omega goes to attack Caledonia again. She is stopped short as Amber steps in, placing herself between the two, hands raised, telling at Omega to back off.
Omega takes two steps back, one step forward, lunging as Caledonia rises to her feet. Amber pushes Omega back, her body a shield between the two.
As Caledonia rises, she tries to shove her way past Amber, desperate to get at Omega. Amber yells at Caledonia; Caledonia screams in frustration and punches Amber straight in the face!
Jim Gunt: What does this spell for Golden Intentions!?
Mike Rolash: Whatever it does, it looks like any chances of reconciliation are well and truly dead and buried!
Jim Gunt: What a match to start off Evolution 23! Clark Steele and Xander Haze trying to make a statement before Golden Intentions, and I think that’s been accomplished!
Mike Rolash: You need to raise your standards.
Jim Gunt: You need to remember what you’re paid for.
Mike Rolash: I’m paid to be me, James. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.
Jim Gunt: But what will have the world talking right now is that the Golden Intentions main event has been upgraded to a Triple Threat between our reigning champion Caledonia Highlander, Unhinged briefcase winner Amber Ryan and now Omega, a lady that both of the other contenders have more than just one bone to pick!
Mike Rolash: And what is even more outrageous is that Omega already has a plan for a Malice in Wonderland match, which promises to be a truly intense and probably bloody affair!
Jim Gunt: Very much so, but let’s get to Mr. Douglas, because we have our next match ready to go!
Ray Douglas: This next contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit! Introducing first… from Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia…
Boos erupt from the crowd as “Hope” by Apocalyptica sounds out and Judas steps through the curtain, looking as haggard as ever.
Ray Douglas: Weighing in at two hundred fifteen pounds… JUDAS!
Jim Gunt: The newest member of the Ouroboros coming to the ring by himself; he shoots a dirty, disinterested look at the fans as he approaches the ring. It’s hard to imagine this man as being part of the Coalition, and part of the Lost Boys as the CWF World Tag Team Champions just a few short weeks ago.
Mike Rolash: Well, now he’s got some new friends, Jim. Friends that… smell like incense and don’t make eye contact, but friends nonetheless!
Jim Gunt: That’s really not a positive change, Mike.
In the ring, referee Scott Dean checks Judas for foreign objects, and the fans boo both of them, complete with dueling chants of “FUCK YOU JU-DAS” and “FUCK YOU SCOT-TY.”
Jim Gunt: You think they’re still sore about the officiating in last week’s main event?
Mike Rolash: I don’t know why. Referee’s ruling is final, right? Right? Or does that only count when it benefits someone you like?
Jim Gunt: … Stop.
Ray Douglas: And his opponent…
CUE UP: “Somewhere in Hollywood” by Sixx AM. The fans nominally cheer: Autumn Raven may be a psychopath, but she hasn’t abandoned her partner in a wildly successful tag team in order to join the Ouroboros.
Ray Douglas: From Los Angeles, California and weighing in at one hundred twenty five pounds… AUTUMN… RAVEN!!!
Jim Gunt: Despite their history - or maybe because of it, Mike - these fans are clearly on Autumn’s side as she makes her way to the ring.
Mike Rolash: She looks a little uncomfortable with it. Probably, because, let’s be honest - who wants to have these troglodytes hanging all over her?
Autumn takes her customary lap around the ring and slides under the bottom rope; instead of her usual smug smile, she’s glaring at her former stablemate. Judas does not move.
Jim Gunt: There’s the bell, and Autumn rushes Judas! He sidesteps and sends her into the corner, and clubs her in the back with a forearm! And an elbow!
Judas stays on the offensive, whipping Autumn across the ring. He follows up with a clothesline but she lifts a foot, and he runs into her boot, staggering him backwards. Autumn clotheslines Judas to the mat and rolls him up tightly, ONE… TWO… Kickout!
Jim Gunt: Judas showing a more aggressive side to his attack this week!
Mike Rolash: Say what you will about the Ouroboros; they know how to get results!
Out of nowhere, a roaring cheer erupts from the crowd. In the ring, Judas pulls Autumn to her feet and drops her again with a snap suplex, but the fan reaction does not appear to be directed at the ring.
Mike Rolash: Seriously? What the hell is she doing here?
We cut to the entranceway, where MJ Flair has casually stepped into view. She’s already outfitted for her later match, albeit without her elbow or knee pads, and without her wrist and fist tape. This isn’t the reason for their sudden outburst, however.
The fans are more interested in the baseball bat in her hands.
Jim Gunt: After last week’s match, MJ Flair and Eric Dane are clearly interested in the Ouroboros actions tonight!
In the ring, Judas lifts Autumn again, and slams her to the mat. He drops and covers, ONE… TWO… Kickout!
Jim Gunt: Judas clearly in control, though I do think that was a premature attempt at a cover.
Mike Rolash: The Ouroboros are all about efficiency, Jim. He might not get a pin, but it’s worth the effort.
Once again, Judas pulls Autumn to her feet and walks her backwards into the ropes, but he stops as he makes eye contact with MJ. She is almost strolling to ringside like she’s enjoying a crisp summer morning, bat over her shoulders.
Jim Gunt: This could be explosive, Mike! What’s gonna happen?
Mike Rolash: Give it twenty seconds and she’ll get rushed worse than she was last week.
Jim Gunt: AUTUMN RAVEN DUMPS JUDAS OVER THE TOP ROPE! At the very least, MJ Flair’s presence has distracted him and helped turn the tide a bit for Autumn!
Mike Rolash: Maybe for the moment, but a flood of Ouroboros is about to come out here and end her!
Jim Gunt: Wait a second… we’re getting word of a disturbance backstage…
We quick cut backstage in a split screen, showing a forklift parked in front of a door labeled ‘OUROBOROS.’ The camera quickly shifts right, showing two men who look oddly like Eric Dane and his associate Angus Skaaland walking away. All the while, the ‘live’ camera shows MJ walking up to Judas, who rises to his feet and stares into the former World Champion’s eyes.
Jim Gunt: Scott Dean isn’t counting Judas out, but he’s cautioning MJ to go back to the locker room! We’ve got a staredown, and Autumn Raven gets in the referee’s face about his lack of a count!
Mike Rolash: Don’t you touch the referee, Autumn!
While Judas and MJ stare each other down, and Autumn Raven and Scott Dean argue in the ring, the tension rises uncontrollably. After what seems like minutes (but is, in reality, only a few seconds), things begin to happen.
Jim Gunt: HEADBUTT BY MJ FLAIR! I think she might’ve broken his nose!
A slow - motion replay shows MJ’s forehead connecting with Judas’ nose, and there is a bloodstain left behind, but the status of his nose is still unclear. What is clear is that Judas doubles over at the impact, and MJ brings the bat down on his back! Judas collapses to the floor while MJ continues the assault!
The sound immediately draws the referee’s attention and he calls for the bell to a huge roar from the crowd.
Jim Gunt: I think Autumn was just disqualified! MJ continues to beat on Judas with that bat!
Mike Rolash: Where’s security? This is disgusting!
Jim Gunt: Security may or may not want to get involved in this, especially if they think the Ouroboros are coming out!
MJ stops her assault. Judas is lying in the fetal position on the floor, bruises all over his visible skin. He’s been busted open in at least two places, as MJ has the blood smear on her forehead from his nose as well as a light bloody mist coating her face. She walks around the ring, still calm as can be, and asks Ray Douglas for a microphone.
Ray Douglas: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, as the result of a disqualification… JUDAS!
The fans boo while MJ slides under the bottom rope, to come face to face with an irate Autumn Raven.
Jim Gunt: You can’t blame Autumn for her anger - she just lost this match through no fault of her own! Autumn is up in MJ’s face, and Scott Dean warns her to back off!
Mike Rolash: I think the fact that she’s standing in the middle of the ring with a potentially lethal weapon tells us everything we need to know about the bias in this company.
Autumn shoves MJ, and MJ clocks her on the side of the head! Scott Dean threatens her, but MJ takes a step towards him and he bails out of the ring!
Mike Rolash: Oh, great. She’s gonna… talk.
MJ Flair paces in the ring, microphone in one hand and bat in the other, waiting for the fans to quiet a bit. She stops, leans into the far corner so she can watch the entranceway, and a smile forms on her lips.
MJF: Sorry, Autumn… collateral damage, ‘n all.
She pushes herself up so she’s sitting on the top turnbuckle, and absent mindedly spins the bat in her hand.
MJF: I’d just like to point out that referee Scott Dean called for a disqualification immediately, but last week he couldn’t figure out how to do the same when Eric Dane and I were outnumbered two to one, or how to… y’know… not count a pin when an athlete’s feet are in the ropes. Coincidence?
Scott Dean looks up from the floor as MJ says this - he was checking on Judas while waiting for the medical team to come down, but his eyes are wide and he starts to back up. The fans boo him mercilessly, and some of the closer rows start to throw their trash at him.
Mike Rolash: Disgraceful on Flair’s end. Speaking of ends…
Jim Gunt: SHE CAN HEAR YOU.
MJF: The cards are on the table, and time’s tickin’ down. I know the Ouroboros and Rish didn’t think anyone would’ve noticed their conspiracy because it wasn’t overt and in our faces… all that tells me is that they’re finally learnin’.
MJF: So are we. There’s myself, there’s Eric Dane, there’s the Forsaken… there’s the fucking CWF World Champion, Caledonia… and the worst thing that could happen to the Ouroboros is happening.
We’re not allowing personal ambition to get in the way of what needs t’be done.
We know what kinda threat the Ouroboros could pose to this company, and I’m fully willing to admit that I was mistaken.
She stops and lets this sink in.
Mike Rolash: She should’ve stayed home and baked cookies instead?
Jim Gunt: Shush!
MJF: Weeks ago, I said that the Ouroboros weren’t serious about their bid t’take over the CWF because if they were, they’d’ve targeted the CWF World Champion. Me, at the time. That was right, but also misguided.
MJF: They’re playing the long game. They’re patient, and they’re willing t’wait. Like… winning Golden Intentions so they can take the CWF World Title from Caledonia or Amber Ryan with the biggest possible audience watching?
She shakes her head as the fans boo.
MJF: Not on my watch, motherfucker. I don’t care who it is. Elijah, Elisha, Cassandra, Judas… any of the faceless minions right over there…
And she points at the Chosen, sitting in the front row. They don’t react, though a few of them appear to be barely concealing rage.
MJF: Is there anybody else? I don’t know how many of ‘em there are, and I don’t care t’learn their names - but you can all tell who’s an Ouroboro, right? They’ve got that look about ‘em.
She shivers, exaggeratedly.
MJF: That look, like they just fucked their sister in the Institute parking lot, then made her walk home alone?
MJF: Silas Artoria would fit in well with you.
Mike Rolash: Okay, that visual wasn’t needed.
Jim Gunt: For once, we agree.
MJF: Tick tock, pals ‘n gals. Ataxia. Shadow. Mia. Dorian. Caledonia. Amber. Dane. We’re all on the same side here. Revenant, I guess.
A hand held camera gets close, and MJ looks directly into it.
MJF: Shadow, Rev… like I said, bring your A game, because we’re doin’ the same. But after the three? Remember the enemy.
This close, the blood spray can still be seen on her face. She drops the microphone on the mat and, using the ropes for leverage, rolls backwards and lands on her feet on the floor.
Jim Gunt: Finally, there’s a medical team coming out to check on Autumn and Judas… let’s clear the ring, and we’ll be right back!
Backstage. Just barely.
Eric Dane stands at the Gorilla Position with newcomer Bronson Box, watching the monitors, Eric looking about half shocked and half impressed… Boxer just staring almost blankly. They didn’t pay any attention to Judas being carted behind them on a stretcher, nor did they give Autumn Raven time of day as she was being helped backstage after the assault.
Angus Skaaland sees it all, though. He’s acutely aware of everything going on, glancing around a bit nervously, always making sure to keep Dane between himself and Bronson Box.
“Hey, Eric. Who’s the new guy?”
They do, however, look up at MJ Flair, having just joined them, still blood sprayed.
Dane: ...The fuck was that?
Dane: That shitkicking, it was well deserved but it came outta nowhere.
MJF: Takin’ care’a business.
Bronson Box chortles under his breath.
Box: Well that’s my kind of problem solvin’ right there, lass. Very direct.
MJ shrugs again.
MJF: Hey, man… don’t take shit.
She turns to Dane.
MJF: So this is the GUY, huh?
Dane: MJ, this is Boxer. Boxer, Mariella.
MJ fearlessly juts a hand out, Boxer takes a beat and looks the blood spattered young woman up and down, finally, very deliberately extends his hand and reciprocates. Eric continues on with introductions.
Dane: This is where I was last week, making sure that we have the proper backup in this little dust-up we’ve gone and started. Let’s call him an Insurance Policy.
Angus speaks up from as far away as he can be without being in another room.
Skaaland: More like an insurance claim waiting to happen…
The Original Defiant chuckles at that.
Box: I don’t disagree with you Angus my boy…
He looks over at Eric with that strange little grin of his.
Box: I usually left DEFIANCE standin’ when I was done… you think I’m gunna’ give this place that same consideration? You do realize what I’m capable of doin’ to this place right? To all these folk… hell, to her given half the chance? No offence, love, just the truth of it…
MJ looks at Eric incredulously. The Only Star just laughs and holds his hands out.
Dane: Okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves… Boxer’s just asserting dominance, it’s what he does. Constantly.
Skaaland: Careful he doesn’t pee on you.
Boxer straight up ignores Skaaland, instead looking to MJ.
Box: I’m with ya’ fer’ the time being, lass that’s all ye need t’ know. Savvy?
MJ stares at him, deadpan, for a moment. Finally, she laughs, and holds out her hand and brazenly claps the Scotsman on the shoulder.
MJF: Y’all are fuckin’ weird. I gotta’ go clean up, catch ya’ later.
The still blood-soaked former Champion takes off down the hallway away from gorilla without a care. Eric looks to his newly signed partner in crime and chuckles.
Dane: You know she’s talking about you, right?
Box: Aye. We’ll see about that, won’t we?
Angus presses around Dane and past Box, almost sprinting to catch up to MJ. Boxer joins in on Dane’s chuckle, and wrestling fans the world over cringe at the very thought…
Rish had seen better days. After getting the CWF under his control once again, he still felt that it had been a downhill slope and an uphill battle that he was facing off against currently, things hadn’t been exactly quiet. So when the door explodes open he was pretty much used to it at that point.
What he isn’t used to however, is a giant cast iron skillet named Lynk crashing down on the paperwork that he was working diligently on, narrowly missing his hands.
Mia Rayne: Well shit, I guess I should have aimed that better.
Rish looks up into the eyes of Mia Rayne, who by all intents, wasn’t looking like herself. There is a fire in her eyes unlike which he had ever seen before, and he’s seen quite a few eye fires in his day, and she isn’t her usual jovial self. She also brought a…
Ataxia: Hello frand…
Ataxia’s silky smooth voice snaps Rish’s attentions up and over Mia’s shoulder and onto the Impact Champion, Ataxia. For his part, Ataxia was looking menacing, at least a bit more than usual.
Mia Rayne: HEY! HEY!
Rish snaps back to Mia as she produces her fork from out of nowhere and starts to scratch the outside of the skillet eliciting a hellacious noise that forces Rish to cover his ears.
J. Rish: ENOUGH!
Rish yells out as loud as he can as Mia slows the noise down, but only stops when she’s ready.
Mia Rayne: Aw… What’s wrong Mr. Pseudo Boss Man? Don’t you like it when Navi and Lynk talk? That’s right, I named the fork Navi. Deal with it.
Rish looks at her incredulously before turning his attention back to Ataxia, then to Mia, and finally back to Ataxia; unsure exactly whom to approach in regards to hopefully having a sane and rational conversation.
J. Rish: Ah! My favorite power couple, to what do I owe the plea…
Mia Rayne: Cut it…
Mia drops Navi the Fork into Lynk the Skillet and sets them both gently on a chair, to ensure their comfort. She proceeds to go behind Rish, laying her hands gently on top of his shoulders and using her leverage and a hidden strength Rish didn’t even know she had, to keep him in place as Ataxia takes a seat across from him and puts his feet up on HIS desk.
Ataxia: We want to know why, Rish. Tell us who put you up to it. Tell us why you fell for it, and maybe, just...Maybe, you get to get out of here tonight with all of your facilities intact. Or maybe...I’ll start acting like I use to...You wouldn’t want me to declare war now...would you Rish?
Rish pales but remains silent, Mia pushes harder down on his shoulders as Ataxia leans forward.
Ataxia: Confirm it, Rish, and this ends. All you have to do is nod your silly, cowardly head and this doesn’t go any further...Unless you’re ready to give me full control...maybe you should have stayed gone if this was the way you were going to handle business!
That seems to do it and Rish explodes from his chair, surprising even Mia, who quickly recovers, pulls him by the scruff of his neck, and yanks him back to a sitting position. Knowing better, he stays seated but his face is red with anger.
J. Rish: What the hell do you two think you’re doing? You don’t get to wander into MY office and start making demands. You two have a match to get ready for don’t you?
Ataxia looks closely at Rish, getting inches from his face and staring him directly in the eyes.
Ataxia: You dishonor your name, sir. You should be ashamed. Maybe it isn’t I who is forgetting their place, but you, Rish...You know me. You know what I am a capable of...you’re scared because you’ve chosen to try and fuck me over...that takes balls, which we know normally you wouldn’t dare try...so it has to be the latter. Something’s got you spooked that you’re fucking with the boogeyman mother fucker...Maybe...I should remind you who you really don’t want to fuck with!
Mia smiles and starts to lay her hands on Rish again, but Ataxia gently shakes his head and makes his way for the door, still hanging open.
Ataxia: Leave him, My Love. He will not confirm what we already know, no sense in wasting our time here. You need to start remembering whose federation this is. You keep this up. I will replace you...When you finally get the guts to ask for help. Come find me. Until then. Stay tuned...You don’t wanna miss the “match” of the century...AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA!!!
With that Ataxia leaves to go and turns around waiting for Mia to look back at Rish with a sour look, grabbing Lynk and Navi on her way, and interlocking her arm with Ataxia as they skip out the door.
We cut backstage to Caledonia, walking the halls, trying to find something or someone. She has a look of resignated annoyance on her face, like she’s about to do something she doesn’t want to do. She stops, sighs, and walks through a door - a door which reads “ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE!!!!”
Caledonia: Erm… are you in here?
The room is adorned with oddities, with no sign of the inhabitant. Caledonia turns to leave, and finds herself face-to-face - well, face-to-mask - with Ataxia.
Ataxia: Hai Cali!
Caledonia: Um. Hello, Ataxia. Was wondering if you had a minute.
Ataxia: For my fellow champion? Only on days ending in existential horror.
Caledonia: … so today?
Caledonia looks for a place to sit, but sees only a bidet and what appears to be a very well-loved chaise longue. She opts to stand.
Caledonia: So. I’ve been having a problem.
Ataxia: Such problem. Many difficulty. Wow.
Caledonia: … a problem that may be about to become your problem. A problem named Silas.
Caledonia: Well. I’m sure you’ve seen some of his promos. At any rate, he seems to have taken rather a fixation on me. Or at least my title. And apparently now yours too?
Ataxia laughs manically.
Ataxia: He can pry it from my cold, dead ass.
Ataxia: I’m not touching you, I have a girlfriend!
Caledonia: I meant- anyway. I would take it as a particular kindness if you’d give him his damned rematch, then kick his arse from one side of the arena to the other so he’ll shut up about becoming World Champion.
Ataxia: On one condition.
Ataxia saunters over to a chest, upon which is simply written the word “HIM”. As the Messiah Pariah opens the chest, a picture of Dan Highlander, Caledonia’s husband, becomes visible on the inside of the top of the chest. For some reason, Caledonia recoils, pinching her nose. The source of her recoiling becomes clearer once Ataxia shoves a piece of burlap towards her, as the World Champion jumps backwards.
Ataxia: YOUR HUSBAND TOOK A SHIT IN THIS MASK SEVEN YEARS AGO, AND HE NEVER CLEANED IT UP!
Caledonia: And you didn’t just throw it out?!
Ataxia: IT’S THE PRINCIPLE, HE HAS TO LEARN!
Caledonia: Did you ever tell him?
Ataxia: No… but that’s my price. I want your husband to clean my mask.
Caledonia: I think it’s beyond repa-
Ataxia: That’s my price.
Caledonia: And Dan is missi-
Ataxia: THAT’S MY PRICE!
Caledonia: Okay. If and when I rescue my husband, I will ensure that he washes your mask. In exchange, you’ll get this particular monkey off my back. Deal?
They shake hands, and Caledonia immediately begins looking around for hand sanitizer.
Caledonia: Well. I’d… love to stay. But I have to go and get ready to fight your “frand”.
Ataxia: Don’t be a stranger now!
He waves the long-soiled mask as a nineteenth-century dilettante would wave a handkerchief, and Caledonia beats a hasty retreat.
Jim Gunt: Wow, this evening really is turning into one hell of a roller coaster ride, at first the main event of Golden Intentions turning into a Triple Threat, then Mia and Ataxia making their displeasure felt in the face of the boss, who seems to have a very busy evening as well, and now Caledonia and Ataxia making a pact to get Silas Artoria a rematch for the Impact title at Golden Intentions as well, I wonder what Silas would think about this.
Mike Rolash: Well, he'd probably rather want to hear that Ataxia made Caledonia to give him a shot at her title, but I don't think Silas has any idea what has just transpired, because we are expecting him in the ring any moment now! Over to you, Ray!
Ray Douglas: Ladies and gentlemen, the next match is scheduled for one fall and the first contender, hailing from Los Angeles, California, he is the King of Wrestling - CHRISTIAN STARR!
“HAIL TO THE KING” begins to blare over the P.A. as the arena lights cut out and the words "Kings Never Die..."' appear on the titan tron. The camera pans down to the entrance lamp where now a single spotlight shines brightly behind two silhouetted figures. One a towering monster of a man, the other a man standing stoically in front, dwarfed by comparison.
Avenged Sevenfold's "Hail to the King" fully explodes as Payne and "The King of Wrestling" Christian Starr are outlined in the bright lights exploding around them, Starr’s arms stretched open over his head allowing him to take in the thunderous reaction around him.
Starr turns around and starts backing his way down the entrance way with a clearly confident swagger to his step, Payne follows close behind flexing and looking just all around menacing before climbing into the ring over the top rope as Starr high fives some of the lucky fans in the front row. He shoots his way up the ring steps and climbs the turnbuckle. Here he strikes a pose throwing up the 2 Sweet hand sign as Payne raises his arms high in front of him, letting out a roar as he does.
Jim Gunt: Christian Starr has had an eventful match against Duce Jones last week in the Beat the Clock challenge with Jarvis King butting in as guest referee.
Mike Rolash: Today I see chief Trent Robbins already in the ring, so I think we are spared another one of these surprises!
Ray Douglas: And his opponent, hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, the Psychotic Aristocrat - SILAS ARTORIA!
The lights go out as “Arousal” from the “Dark Dreams Don’t Die” soundtrack begins to sound and dark blue lighting illuminates thick fog wafting from the entrance. With a grim look on his face, Silas is stepping through the curtains and without his usual aloofness shoots one determined look at the ring and sets off.
Jim Gunt: Silas missed out on winning the Impact Championship title against Ataxia last week when the rest of the Coalition came out and attacked the Forsaken, something that I don’t see the Forsaken take lightly.
Suddenly the lights go out. Gregorian monks’ chanting sets in.
Mike Rolash: You just HAD to call them, did you?
Four torches spring to life as Silas reaches the bottom of the ramp, the four Forsaken all of a sudden around him, the crowd surprisingly cheering for the Dark Four. He looks around, disconcerted, as if hoping for the rest of the Coalition to come out and rescue him, but nobody seems to be coming to his side.
Ataxia: Hi, new frand!
The Shadow: The spirits that you’ve cited, your commands we shall ignore…
As Silas whirls around to face the next Forsaken, Mia comes close to Silas' ear.
Mia Rayne (whispering): Semicolon...Parenthesis.
The torches suddenly extinguish, plunging the arena into darkness once more. When the lights come back on, there is not a trace of The Forsaken.
Jim Gunt: Wow, now that’s a statement, looks like they indeed did not forget what happened last week!
Mike Rolash: And Silas does not look happy about this, he’s still looking around to make sure they’re gone!
Eventually he carefully and warily enters the ring, where Christian Starr is sitting crosslegged in one of the corners, waiting for his opponent to finally be ready. Silas looks at Payne, but after a nod by Starr he reluctantly backs off and walks up the ramp. Trent Robbins motions for Starr to get up after Silas has shed his coat and cane and after briefing them on the instructions, motions for the bell to ring.
Jim Gunt: And we are off!
Silas is going for the traditional opening lock up, but Starr does not waste any time on that and immediately delivers a quick kick to the mid section and a DDT, taking the aristocrat completely by surprise.
Mike Rolash: Whoa, where did that come from?
Jim Gunt: Early offense by Starr and it looks like he wants to get things done here tonight!
Standing over his downed opponent, Starr yells at him to get back up and as Silas comes back onto his hands and knees, a hard stomp into the back downs Artoria again right away.
Jim Gunt: Mr. Starr is aggressive this evening!
Mike Rolash: Well, after you would have gotten screwed like him last week, wouldn’t you be aggressive, too?
Jim Gunt: He was not-
He can’t finish his sentence, because all of a sudden Christian Starr is landing right in front of their desk, sent out of the ring by a VICIOUS LARIAT by Silas that managed to jump up and run at the former Paramount champion in a brief moment of lapsed focus. He is waiting at the opposite side of the ring as Starr staggers to his feet and runs with a SUICIDE DIVE!
Jim Gunt: Wowzers, this is a very non-nonsense match so far here! Silas pulling up Christian from the mats, but Starr pushes Silas into the ring post back first!
A series of stiff forearms batter Silas together with a few high knees, giving him no time to recover and launch a counter attack, while Trent Robbins continues to count.
STEP UP ENZUIGIRI by Starr!
Mike Rolash: You go Starr! Show him that you are the King!
Starr rolls into the ring, breaking the count before going on top of the turnbuckle.
Jim Gunt: Oh boy, I think Starr Air is ready to take off!
He jumps off for the double foot stomp, but more as a reflex than a premeditated move Silas manages to sweep the legs aside, getting hit by Starr’s body instead, bringing both down to the ground.
Mike Rolash: I hope you guys are not prone to sea sickness, because this has been going back and forth like a fishing boat in a storm.
Jim Gunt: I must say, this was one of the best metaphors I have heard from you yet!
Mike Rolash: Thank you, I’ve been taking evening classes with Metaphorics Anonymous.
Jim Gunt: Is that even-
And again he cannot finish his sentence, because of an arm slamming on top of their table as Christian Starr is pulling himself back up opposite of Silas, who is using the steel stairs to get back to a vertical base.
Still a little unstable on the legs Silas charges forward and rams Christian onto the table, sending papers, water bottles and other equipment flying and the commentators scrambling out of the way. With grim determination on his face Silas lands a few punches and then finally takes Starr’s head and bangs it onto the table repeatedly.
Finally he lets go and drags Starr to his very shaky feet, pushing him towards the ring, but the King of Wrestling staggers and falls just before the apron. A movement from the crowd gets Silas’ attention, a fan dressed up like Ataxia is waving a sign saying “Silas Sucks”. The Canadian irately walks over and tears the sign to shred when he realizes that it is not just a fan, but the real deal. Ataxia just gives him a smile and then points towards the ring.
Starr quickly slithers underneath the ring much to Silas’ chagrin, but instead of following him and getting counted out, Artoria rolls into the ring and right back out, breaking the count, then lifting the apron. Not seeing Starr anywhere, he actually slides under the ring as well.
Mike Rolash: What the-?
Jim Gunt: Ladies and gentlemen, this is a first! We hear some noises from under the ring that sounds like fighting, but other than that I am not sure what exactly is happening!
The referee is now coming out of the ring and just as he is about to lift the apron, Silas comes flying out as if kicked hard, followed by Christian Starr, face all red and furious.
Both wrestlers get to their feet and start a slugfest right in front of the commentator desk, while Trent Robbins continues to count.
Jim Gunt: Well, I guess we will never know what happened under there, but these gentlemen are not yielding an inch to their opponent, at least with Trent Robbins right next to them they should not be able to lose track of time and his counting.
Silas grabs Starr and whips him into the timekeeper’s table, charging right after, but Starr with a BACK BODY DROP over the barricades ONTO THE CONCRETE FLOOR, sending some of the fans in the first row scrambling to get out of the way.
Mike Rolash: LEAPFROG OVER THE BARRICADE! And right onto Silas, wow, this is brutal!
Jim Gunt: And if they are not careful, they will both be out of this in no time!
Mike Rolash: Looks like Starr heard you, he’s coming back!
He rolls himself into the ring as Silas is just getting to his feet and right back out, breaking the count, but not giving Silas a whole lot of time to recover. He takes a quick run-up and DROPKICK!
Jim Gunt: And Silas is back down! If he wants to win this, though, Starr is going to have to let Silas come back!
Starr taunts Silas now, yelling at him to get up and come back into the ring, he himself retreating up onto the apron, sitting down on the middle rope, waiting.
Artoria is getting up and stares at Starr with pure, seething anger. As he climbs over the barricade, he does not take his eyes off Starr, who now is even holding the ropes open for his opponent.
Not surprisingly Silas is not taking him up on the offer, but enters through the opposite side. Starr just shrugs and steps through the ropes himself, finding Silas running at him with reckless abandon, but he quickly ducks and SLINGBLADE!
Jim Gunt: I can’t shake the feeling that Starr might be looking to end this rather sooner than later?
Hard elbow drop to Silas’ chest, then second and a third one. Then he climbs the top turnbuckle, holds out his arms and jumps off…
Mike Rolash: FROG SPLASH!
Jim Gunt: Ooh, Silas gets his knees up!
Starr is rolling on the mat, writhing in pain as Silas slowly gets to his feet. The Canadian obviously is not in a good mood and the hard knee drops he plants into Starr’s mid-section confirm that assertion. He pulls Starr up and locks in a COBRA CLUTCH!
Jim Gunt: Coming to think of it, there has not been a single pin attempt yet! But let’s see how this submission move goes!
Trent Robbins is right there with Christian Starr, but the Californian is vehemently shaking his head to indicate that he has no intentions of giving up. The crowd is starting to clap in encouragement.
Jim Gunt: What are you doing? You know we are supposed to be impartial here, right?
Mike Rolash is standing on his chair and is encouraging the crowd to clap.
Mike Rolash: What does it look like I’m doing? I’m rallying the king’s men and women!
Encouraged by the support, Starr is starting to hit the mat with his foot and slowly is able to raise his back just a bit, then a little more until he is able to slide his arms off Silas’s knees. As he is trying to out, though, Silas jumps up and puts his full body weight into Starr’s back, pinning him back down to the mat. However when Silas attempts to hook in the clutch once more, Starr bucks and unbalances Silas just enough to throw him off and roll himself out of the ring to recuperate.
As he holds himself up on the apron, stretching his back, Silas takes to the ropes and goes for a BASEBALL SLIDE! But he MISSES!
Jim Gunt: This is a match of misses, and no, Mike, not those kind of misses, before you can say something!
Mike Rolash: Grmph.
Starr managed to move aside just enough to let Silas through. SUPERKICK stuns Silas.
Jim Gunt: Whip-in head first into the ring post!
Mike Rolash: Starr is cleaning house now!
Silas is hanging off the post when Starr grabs him and forcefully rolls him back into the ring. He climbs the corner and holds out his arms, soaking in the fans’ cheers before turning around and jumping off with another double foot stomp, this time hitting the Canadian perfectly. He bends down and grabs Silas’ arm.
Jim Gunt: He’s setting up the King’s Cross!
He locks Silas arm and head in and pulls back, making Silas cry out in pain. Referee Trent Robbins comes down to his hands and knees, asking Silas, if he wants to give up, but the aristocrat has none of it.
Silas Artoria (through clenched teeth): Never!
Jim Gunt: To my knowledge Silas has never tapped out of a hold before!
Mike Rolash: There always is a first time!
No matter how hard Starr is pulling and yanking, Silas still refuses to tap out, even though it is obvious that his strength is fading. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he lets go and pulls Silas to his feet and MOURNING STARR DRIVER!
Mike Rolash: This could be it!
Ray Douglas: And the winner is, the King of Wrestling - CHRISTIAN STARR!
Jim Gunt: So the king triumphs over the aristocrat, how fitting, right Mike? Mike?
As he looks around, he sees his fellow commentator in the ring, holding up Starr’s arm, who is looking a little bewildered, but indulges his fan.
Silas crawls towards the edge of the ring, still breathing heavilly, and signals the timekeeper to hand him a microphone. Said timekeeper does promptly, and Silas stands back up to rest against the ropes, his chest still heaving in and out. He shakes his head, drops of sweat flying as far as the commentary table.
Silas Artoria: I've got a few things to get off my chest.
He shoos Christian Starr away.
Silas Artoria: So while you prepare for your inevitable match for the Paramount title next week, I'm going to address the more important question on what became of last week.
He stretches his back.
Silas Artoria: Last week, Ataxia decided to let his puppet master come out to ringside, and supervise him just in case he was close to losing the one thing the Forsaken had left that they could physically present. Shadow just sat on his backside, waiting to pounce at the opportunity just in case, and I'm the bad guy for taking matters into my own hands? I'm the one punished for having the audacity to drag an unfair advantage back to catering, instead of being given the opportunity to finish the damn match.
He spits to the side, just as the audience start their shouts, targeted down on him.
Silas Artoria: I'm still here. I've been here every goddamn week while the person at the top of the card and her buddy sit on their backside for weeks on end, cashing in cheques and immediately jump into opportunities while others, true competitors bleed their way just to have a sniff at the title.
He jumps to the middle of the ring.
Silas Artoria: Caledonia herself put her tail between her legs and cowered away when I presented a threat to her perfect image! She'd rather vacate the damn championship and sit on the couch!--
The audience throws a bottle of water at Silas, all while they continue showering the man with howls of disapproval. Silas' mouth starts to bleed from the impact, with the Canadian himself standing still. He touches his mouth, sees the blood, then returns to the microphone.
Silas Artoria: Guess I know who the smartest man in the room is.
He looks back to the audience. He points at them.
Silas Artoria: It's amazing that each and every one of you cheer those who take on part-time schedules, yet reject those who come in week by week, stand in this ring, deliver what they have, and can only pray that the next week will bring them fortune. All because the powers that be see your reception as valuable.
He drops his hand.
Silas Artoria: So let me tell you a little something, Caledonia.
He looks into the hard camera, his eyes dry.
Silas Artoria: I am going to drag Ataxia into the ring with his title, lower a goddamn cage so that the one feeding him cannot do a damn thing when I rip that damn bag off his head, and leave him empty handed by the end of their ordeal.
He slowly approaches the hard camera.
Silas Artoria: Then I am going to enter the Golden Intentions Rumble. I'm going to claw my way to the end. And when I win...
He points to the lens.
Silas Artoria: ...I'm going to take you to the Garden.
He lowers his arm.
Silas Artoria: Don't try to make me an afterthought, because I don't forget.
Suddenly the lights go out and the crowd gasps. A single spotlight comes onto Silas Artoria, then a second one, showing a robed figure sitting on top of the turnbuckle opposite from Silas, a microphone in hand. Simon & Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence" starts to sound over the PA.
The Shadow: Silas, Silas, I am not sure, if I should feel flattered or insulted that you deem me Ataxia's puppet master. For the second time now even... Now if you would pay even an ounce of attention beyond the board nailed right to your forehead, you would know that nobody, and I mean NOBODY is the master of Ataxia! And you would also know that the Forsaken have never, EVER interfered in a match, and you are nothing more than the pot calling the kettle black. I would like to remind you of a certain tag team title match. The Lost Boys, you at ring side. YOU interfered against their will, and almost cost them the title. You forget quickly...
The song is about to end and as the final lines come up, The Shadow brings the microphone to his lips again.
The Shadow: But you don't care, you just want to hear yourself talk, but that is more for yourself, because--
And he sings along.
The Shadow: Cause no-one there, could stand the sound of Silas...
The lights go out again for just a moment and when they flicker back on, The Shadow is gone.
Anyone that has been to a live show knows the restless buzz that fills the arena in between the matches. The lull that hits once both wrestlers from the previous match are gone and up the ramp, and the crew is setting up or cleaning up the mess left from the previous tenants of that area. The announcers are either talking amongst themselves during a commercial break or are running to or from the bathroom.
Suddenly the tron flickers to life and a semi colon comes hopping in from the left side of the screen. From the other side, what looks to be the business end of a smiley face is slithering along the bottom of the screen before sticking out it’s backside, bending down to form a winking emoticon. The camera zooms into the dot of the semi-colon and we see The Forsaken gathered around Mia Rayne, sitting down behind a mock desk, crudely crafted by a home grown artist, and looking seriously straight ahead. They are all in suits, including Mia? For her part Mia is wearing an orange peel to stick in between her pigtails to mimic… No, politics can stay out…
Despite the crudely drawn decor, Mia is all business as she gazes deadpan into the hearts and souls of everyone watching and simultaneously gains everyone’s attentions.
Mia Rayne: Evening kids, kiddies, and everything in between. My name is Mia Rayne and on behalf of The Forsaken and the uncrowned Boss of CWF and your Impact Champion Ataxia, I am here tonight to bring you grave news.
She slams her hands down on her makeshift desk and it explodes out from underneath her. Apparently cardboard isn’t a good building material. Mia looks down in mild shock, shrugs her shoulders, stands, and begins to pace while talking, her movements growing more and more agitated as she speaks, though it’s hard not to notice how amazing she looks in a suit.
Mia Rayne: I’m going to keep this short, sweet, and to the point. Oreo Speedwagon had some choice words for my brethren last week and this week I want to make one thing crystal clear. The Forsaken and namely, myself, are not afraid, intimidated, or scared by your tactics, your name, or your numbers. We aren’t going to get out of your way because you’re not so lost boy found a set of balls and made some idle threats toward us.
We aren’t going to back away because your false prophetess thinks she’s hot shit. Guess what lady? Hot or not you’re still just a piece of shit.
We won’t hide underneath the closest rock because there’s more of you than there are of us.
And we won’t give up because of what happened to Impakt. It was cheap. It was cowardly. And it was proof that you are the worst kind of monster that I have personally ever seen, and trust me when I say, I’ve seen a lot. Now I can’t speak for anyone else, but the general consensus in The Forsaken is that anyone that joins up with The Oreo Cookie Gang are no better than the piece of shit leading them full circle, again and again, infinitely… What’s wrong E? Didn’t think I’d do my own research? Your name actually fits because do you know what else could represent your oh so precious symbolism? A fucking cookie.
Congrats. You all teamed up together and beat up a kid who tried to fend you all off by himself. I bet that made you all feel special. Hey Dean! Oh sorry, ‘Judas,’ are you over compensating for your lack of manhood, the fact that I’ve beaten you before when you weren’t a sell out, or the fact that because deep down, you know that you’re just not good enough no matter where you fall in?
You fools get no respect from me. I warned you already Elisha, don’t FUCK with the crazies. They will one up you every single time and this time is no different. I implore anyone and everyone listening right here, right now. If you feel the same way toward The Oreos and their numbers game as myself and the rest of The Forsaken, follow suit. Refuse to treat them with the common courtesy of calling them by the names they want to be called. They don’t deserve it. This isn’t about fear of ‘Ouroboros,’ their numbers, or how ‘dangerous and violent’ they might be. This has EVERYTHING to do with the fact that I have no respect for them or anything they stand for.
So if you are in the same boat as muah, then follow me into the wild blue yonder, kids. Do as I do when it comes to the PooPooRI and Los Oreos Dangeros. Don’t treat them with basic human decency because, they honestly don’t have any to spare you, so why should you do the same for them? Ridicule them, laugh in their faces. They aren’t intimidating, their shit is weak, they know it, and the best part about it? I know it too. Which in all honesty, should probably scare all of you.
The camera statics out on Mia who now joins up with her fellow Forsaken. Together the four of them glare into the camera before Mia busts a gut laughing....
Mia Rayne: OREO SPEEDWAGON! I TOTALLY GET THAT ONE!
The screen cuts to black as Mia's high pitched laughter continues to echo throughout the arena.
Camera pans over to Schamor walking in the backstage of CWF. He is on his cell talking with someone.
Schamor: Look, I am trying my best here. It’s not my fault Revenant hasn’t fully recovered his memories!
Schamor keeps pacing to and fro and he keeps listening to other side of the phone.
Schamor: I understand Revenant hasn’t really been on the rampage you thought he would be in, but wasn’t it you who thought that all we needed to do is to revive him and just let him be him. I am only doing what you told me to do. I gave full freedom and well, the result is this.
Schamor looks down on the ground a little disappointed as he continues to listen to the other person on the cell. Then suddenly a loud voice comes out shouting from the other end of the cell and Schamor pulls the cell away from his ear.
Schamor looks at the cell like it was something disgusting. He then slowly brings it close to his ear.
Schamor: Fine, I will figure something out.
Schamor ends his conversation on the phone.
Schamor: I will figure something out? How am I supposed to make Revenant stronger? I have already done everything possible on my part…
Schamor visibly worried looks at the ceiling like it would give him some sort of idea to deal with his situation.
His cell starts to ring.
Schamor looks at the number and doesn’t recognize it. He picks it up and listens to the person on the other side. With each passing second Schamor keeps smiling even more. He looks like a baby who just got his favorite toy.
Schamor: Well then, you got yourself a deal.
He disconnects the call and keeps grinning.
Schamor: Where there is a will, there's a way.
He walks into a room and closes the door.
Hanging on the door is a plaque written “Revenant”.
Mike Rolash: Looks like Silas had something similar in mind as Cali, since he called Ataxia out for a re-match at Golden Intentions and he even mentioned a cage!
Jim Gunt: Yes, if this is getting approved, this could be an epic battle, just the two men one on one, but his obsession with Caledonia and the World Heavyweight title is beginning to get a little unhealthy... And we know what happened to the guy that had developed something like that... Marksman Mora has not been seen or heard of ever since MJ Flair beat him in his shot for the belt.
Mike Rolash: And Revenant seems to have been brought here for a purpose, this shady Schamor guy seems to have someone above him and someone else that he look like he is getting along with better, I don't know anymore what any of this means.
Jim Gunt: We know, Mike, we know.
Mike Rolash: And these creeps of the Forsaken also are continuing to stir the pot, at first against Silas and now also Ouroboros, if they continue like this, they will be standing between everybody. I must say, though, that Mia looks amazingly dapper in that suit!
Jim Gunt: Don't let your good friend Ataxia hear that, Mikey!
Mike Rolash: He is NOT--
Ray Douglas: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first...
Halestorm’s "I am the Fire" starts while the lights go dark. Azrael makes his way to the top of the ramp and as the chorus begins, columns of fire illuminate Azrael.
Ray Douglas: Making his way to the ring, from his own personal Hell! Weighing in at two hundred and forty five pounds! AZRAEL!
Azrael slowly walks to the ring with his head bent down with a hint of his head bobbing to the beat.
Jim Gunt: Here comes a man who is dead set on being unsuccessful here in the CWF.
Mike Rolash: Yea, he was going on and on about pushing others to their limit. But you'd think that he'd give himself that extra push.
Voices start to raise through the crowd, a small but growing OMEGA chant breaking out. The lights dim, spotlights converging at the top of the entrance ramp as a "Girl Anachronism" by the Dresden Dolls starts to play, quiet at first, building to a crescendo.
Ray Douglas: Coming down the aisle. Accompanied by Elijah. From the Academy. At five foot ten, one hundred seventy five pounds. A founder of the Insurgency and CWF legend...one and all...OMEGA!
The crowd erupts, some cheers, some boos. Omega steps out onto the entrance way, Elijah by her side, resting on his cane. They make their way down the ramp, Omega blowing kisses to the audience, Elijah's eyes locked straight ahead.
Jim Gunt: It's great to see this legend back inside of a CWF ring.
Mike Rolash: Just one more looney to add to the bin if you ask me.
Elijah stands at ringside as Omega enters the ring, official Trent Robbins is just finishing his routine check of Azrael. Omega giggles a bit as Robbins pats her down. She winks and blows him a kiss after he's done, he uncomfortably calls for the bell as this match is now underway. Omega takes off skipping around the ring, as Azrael is looking for a battle. Azrael drops his guard, his gaze following her as she makes a circle around him and the ring, fiddling with her hair in the process.
Jim Gunt: Vintage Omega, good people..
Mike Rolash: Dude, are we not going to the same meetings? You know that word is off limits.
Azrael motions for Omega to bring it, which she happily obliges catching him off guard with a running hurricanrana! The force of the move sends Azrael sliding outside of the ring, trying to regroup. The Rhode Island fans roar in approval for Miss O bows to the crowd. Azrael quickly slides back inside of the ring, attempting a clothesline, Omega able to duck the attack. She takes off for the opposite set, jumping to the middle rope springing backwards! Taking Azrael down with a Springboard Moonsault! She holds on for the pin!
Jim Gunt: Azrael with the shoulder up! After not being an active competitor for eight years.
Mike Rolash: She looks like she really haven't lost a step.
Omega smiles as she brings Azrael back to his feet, when he's fully upright, Omega unleashes a hard slap across his face. All this seems to do is anger the Archangel of Apathy, wailing on Omega with a relentless onslaught. Rights and lefts come in fast and furious as the Academy leader covers up, while backing into the ropes. Azrael grabs her by the arm, shooting Omega off the opposite set. A vicious clothesline is awaiting her when she returns! Azrael stays on the offensive, quickly bringing Miss O back to her feet, he hooks her in a front facelock setting up for a suplex. With ease he lifts her up and sends her flying across the ring with a toss suplex! She crashes hard into the canvas, clutching at her back as Elijah shouts encouraging words to his lover.
Jim Gunt: Azrael promised Omega he was going to push her to the next level.
Mike Rolash: When it comes to Omega, everyone knows levels are nonexistent.
Inside of the ring, Azrael drags Omega towards one of the corners, leaving her lying stomach down on the mat. Hurriedly, he climbs to the second ropes, measures her up before leaping off and driving his knee into the small of her back! Omega screams out, but they soon turn to giggles as Azrael just shakes his head. Again, he positions himself on the second rope, leaping off again for another diving knee drop! He shoots the half going for the pin as Trent Robbins comes sliding in for the count!
Azrael waste no time in arguing the count, going back to work on her lower back. Rolling her into her stomach, he drives a knee once more to the targeted area! Elijah pounds the mat hard trying to get the Rhode Island faithful behind Omega. The arena is as loud as ever, but they prove pointless, Azrael brings her to feet only to almost plant her through the mat with a Falling Side Slam! Instead of going for the cover, he grabs her legs and locks her in a Sharpshooter!
Jim Gunt: This could spell the end for Omega as Azrael is sitting down deep on spine!
Mike Rolash: He hasn't put many opponents away with the Sharpshooter, but it's still a painful hold nonetheless..
Azrael pulls back on her leg, applying pressure to her other one that's tangled across his leg, trying to sit down as far as he can. Elijah shouts for Omega to find an escape, she searches but there is none in sight as Robbins checks to see if she wants to submit. She declines the way out, continuing to claw and scratch away at the mat. Screaming for her to quit, the hard headed cookie she is, she begins to muster strength from God knows where. Pushing her upper body off the mat with everything she has. Trying to fight the resistance proves futile for Azrael, as Omega uses her smaller frame to flip through his legs forcing him to lose balance! Both fighters are on the mat, Azrael being the first to his feet. Omega staggers to hers holding her back, Azrael quickly swooping in lifting her onto his shoulders for the Spiraling
Jim Gunt: Azrael looking to put Omega away!
However, Omega has other plans, wiggling free, falling behind Azrael! She pushes him chest first into the ropes, using his momentum to grab him and plant him into the canvas with a German Suplex! Her lower back in pain, she's unable to hold on for the pin. Heavily breathing, Omega slowly rises to her feet, Azrael doing the same. Going for a quick boot to the gut seems to be the wrong choice of offense from Omega, as Azrael catches her foot. This is only a set up as she leaps up catching him with her other foot for an Enzuigiri! Azrael is out like a light as Omega drags herself to ropes, looking to use them for leverage.
Jim Gunt: This might be the opening Omega needs.
Omega is finally standing, looking to bring Azrael up, but her hurt back and weight disadvantage make it hard for her to get him up. Seizing the moment, Azrael has Omega up onto his shoulders. He looks out to the crowd, before swinging her off, driving her face first into the canvas!
Jim Gunt: Omega was just sent Spiraling Down!
Mike Rolash: This could be a huge upset, Jimbo!
Azrael goes for the pin, Trent in position to do his job!
Omega has her shoulder up again as Azrael can't believe it! He pulls and yanks at his hair, out of frustration, now stalking her. Setting up for Falling Apart, Omega stumbles to her feet again. Azrael goes for the kill, but Omega pushing him off, he spins around looking to attack her, but she catches him with a throat chop to buy her some time. Azrael stumbles backwards, but angrily runs right into the arms of Omega, who spikes him into the mat with THE CROWN! Omega drags Azrael towards the corner, slowly scaling to the top. She plays to the crowd a bit before, flipping off with THE DRAGONFLY! SHE STAYS ON TOP FOR THE PIN!
Ray Douglas: Here is your winner by pinfall: OMEGA!
Omega rolls off Azrael as Trent Robbins raises her hand in victory. She smiles as Elijah joins her inside of the ring, helping her to her feet.
Jim Gunt: This win is going to give Omega a huge boost going into her title match at Golden Intentions! And I just received notice that we might have some update on the Ataxia vs. Silas cage match!
The backstage area of the Dunkin' Donuts Center. A by now familiar door saying “ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE!!!!”, slightly ajar. The cameraman is quietly pushing it open to show Ataxia leaning back on his grungy chaise lounge, a cage in his arm. In it sits a cockatoo.
Cockatoo: GRAWK - World Title, World Title!
Ataxia (speaking to the bird): Aaaaw, Silas, who taught you that? You keep repeating it over and over again!
Cockatoo: SQUAWK! World Title, World Title!
Ataxia: You know what, Silas? If you continue like that, I will have to trade you in. For a raven maybe? No, she's already broken. A canary? Nah, too aggressive. Oh, I got it! A dodo!
He gently puts down the cage on the floor and shuffles towards the door, realizing that the cameraman is there for the first time. In passing he raises a hand in greeting.
Ataxia: Oh, hi frand! Could you watch Silas for a moment and make sure he gets comfortable in his cage? I have got to see if I can dig up a dodo bird somewhere. Thank you! Ta-ta!
Again, we find ourselves backstage.
This time it’s not a random hallway, a locker room, or the merch stand. No, this time we’re in a much more important area of the arena, part of the nerve center…
We’re in the boss’s own office.
J. Rish is currently finding himself in the uncomfortable position of trying to placate an irate Eric Dane, who is only barely holding back and freshly signed, sealed, and delivered Bronson Box. The Scottish Strongman is near convulsing, waiting for the opportunity to destroy something or someone. The situation is tense to say the least.
Eric Dane: You’re full of shit.
The Only Star reaches into the breast pocket of his tailored suit jacket. Rish flinches for a moment, unsure of just how deep he’s gotten himself this time, but is relieved to see Dane pull out a fine leather wallet.
Bronson Box: Ye’ gonna try’n buy him off now, too?
Eric Dane: Not even slightly.
Bronson eyeballs the wallet, Dane’s grin widens. He pulls out a small business card, shows it to Box who cracks a smile, and then he tosses it across the desk and into the chest of the head man in charge of the CWF.
J. Rish: What in Christ’s name is this supposed to be?
Eric Dane: It’s one of my lawyers. Here’s another.
He pelts Rish with another.
Eric Dane: And another…
A pattern is developing here. Every time Rish moves, Dane whips another business card at him, each one with the name and contact information of a different attorney at law.
Bronson Box: What then, ye’ gon’ papercut ‘im ta death? I mean… not that that doesn't sound fun.
Boxer grins an odd, psychotic little grin down towards Rish. At this, The End Boss gets a chuckle. He then flicks another card at Rish who only watches on and tries not to take one in the face.
Eric Dane: What I’m doing here is showing Mr. Justin Rishel that I’ve got more lawyers on my team than he has wrestlers on the CWF roster, and that each and every one of them costs more per hour than it costs him to hold a TV Taping.
He flings another card.
Eric Dane: That is to say, they are very good at molding the law into whatever I need it to be. With that said, if said team of attorneys were to begin focusing their work on the business practices of the Championship Wrestling Federation, you can be sure that at the VERY LEAST Mr. Justin Rishel would find himself out of a job.
Eric Dane: And that’s if he’s lucky and he doesn’t wind up indicted.
That gets a good belly laugh from Box.
J. Rish: You have no idea what kind of hornet’s nest you’re kicking up, Dane! And it’s not even about me, you know that THEY are going to come after you, right?
The Wargod leans in, sudden and uncomfortably close. Rish leans back to avoid face to face contact with the terrifying, wild-eyed Scotsman. Boxer hisses through gritted teeth.
Bronson Box: Let ‘em come… Let the bloody bastards COME.
Eric Dane: As you can see, we’re not worried about retribution. We revel in war and blood and the mangling of those who stand against us. Bring Cassandra and Judas, if he can even walk after what MJ did to him. Bring Choronzon and the fuckin’ Man in the Moon himself, bring all of those fuckwits at ringside too…
He flings an entire handful of cards, this time with a bit more bile.
Eric Dane: You tell them to bring them all…
Bronson Box: When we’re bloody done with ‘em, God can sort ‘em out.
An almost surreal hush falls over the crowd as they await the start of the next match, Ataxia versus Mia Rayne. Forsaken versus Forsaken.
Lover versus Lover.
“Committed” by One-Eyed Doll queues up first as Mia comes skipping out on stage. She doesn’t have Lynk with her, but that doesn’t seem to give her pause as she skips her way down to the ring and rolls in, little preamble given. With liquid like motion she stands up and motions for a mic as a hush falls over the crowd…
No one knew what was going to happen entering tonight. Hell, even I didn’t know what was going to happen going into this match tonight. I know that everyone here wants me to just shut up and get the primary BOSS of the CWF and your Impact Champion Ataxia out here to put on a show for all of you, but I have somethings to discuss before that can happen.
I’ve discussed a lot in recent weeks, the power of names, for fuck’s sake, the power of WORDS in general. You all came in here expecting to see a ‘match.’ I’m here to tell you that Ataxia and I provide that match every single minute of every single day. We ARE a match. Tonight, you all get to see us prove it because it’s time for….”
Suddenly the lights drop and everything goes dark. Old timey game show music plays over the loud speakers and as the lights come back up, The ring has been changed into a set for “Let’s Make a Date,” only the title draped across the apron in what looks to be a healthy collaboration of crayon and marker is “Match of the Century!” Every letter had a different color outline and the letters themselves were all different colors. Definitely bold, definitely visable...Definitely not what anyone was expecting walking into this show and seeing Ataxia versus Mia Rayne on the card.
For her part Mia is smiling sweetly, sitting alone on one side of a crudely cut cardboard partition next to a podium that has a very confused Mike Rolash behind it. He tries to back away, only to be met by Dorian, who motions for him to turn around and go back to the podium. Mia shakes her head silently and smiles as she watches Rolash. He eyes her suspiciously and she glances up above her head. Rolash does the same and his eyes widen in horror and his skin grows ghostly pale, his eyes centered on Lynk, hanging above his head. His eyes trace the rope that’s holding Lynk up, his eyes following the line all the way to…
Mia Rayne’s clenched fist. She let’s go of the string to wave at Rolash, who yelps but is quickly laughed at by Mia who clenches the string once again. On the opposite side of the partition sits three stools, each with an “eligible bachelor” on it. The first one is obviously nothing more than a local talent, here to earn his spot in line for catering. The next seat is held by a slightly mystified Shadow and finally, in the third, sits Ataxia.
“Bachelor number one…”
The crowd laughs and plays along as the local talent perks his head up at the sound of a woman’s voice.
“If you were a local wrestler with little to no chance in winning against someone from the main roster...How did you find your way out here?”
The stumped young man opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, closes it, and then just gives up on the thought and walks away.
Mia tries to smile but winces, her body starting to get tense. It’s visible if one were to be staring at Mia and relatively close, but it doesn’t seem as if anyone does notice. Rolash watches the disgraced talent heading to the back, mouthing the words,
“Take me with you?”
Sadly though, the young man misses the cue and continues on without Rolash who still looks completely miserable. Dorian nudges him to look at his cue cards on the podium, but before he can he lets out a high pitched squeal before jumping backwards from Lynk, who just came crashing into the podium from high above his head. Everyone laughs as Mia only grows more tense, shrugging her shoulders as if it were an accident that she almost just killed Rolash. Upset and annoyed Mike turns only to find himself face to face with Ataxia holding a pistol in his face. He pulls the trigger and covers Mike Rolash in a shower of confetti! Mia smiles only slightly as Rolash, now properly humiliated heads back to his seat. Shadow is standing silently in the corner and Mia is now on her feet as well, slowly starting to tremble.
She shakes her head and just says,
“I… I can’t do this anymore. You fucks want a match? I’ll give you a match.”
With that she produces a single match from her ample cleavage and strikes it up, a small flame emanating from the small piece of wood. She tosses it in the ring haphazardly and the crowd reacts in surprise as the entire ring is quickly engulfed in smoke and flames! It isn’t long lived, cardboard goes up pretty fast, but once the smoke clears the four members of The Forsaken stand there in the ashes of the set. Mia has a mic in hand, all preambles of a smile wiped from her face.
“I’m sorry to say….
Ataxia versus Mia isn’t happening tonight.”
The fans in attendance boo at this announcement and Mia shakes her head sadly before putting her hand up to try and silence the disapproving crowd.
“I know, it’s a match you wanted to see, it’s a match I wanted to participate in, as does Ataxia. This has been a conversation that we’ve had at various times throughout the last week. What you all need to know is that we aren’t doing the match, not because we want to deprive you all of the showcase of epicness that that match would contain, but because we don’t take kindly being told what to do. We don’t take kindly to our relationships with others being taken for granted and used as a means to try and coerce us into doing something that we don’t want to do.
Ataxia versus Mia Rayne WILL happen at some point down the road. The two of us have too much respect for the other to let an opportunity like that fall through our fingers, but it will be at OUR discretion. It will be OUR conditions. It will be on our terms. Most importantly it won’t be because Los Oreos Gringos think that we’re fragile enough to fall prey to their mind games.
Granted, I can’t say for sure if they had anything to do with this match making, but let’s all be honest here and not so dense. Who the fuck else would do something so…”
She pauses as if trying to think of a word and her Forsaken brethren try to help her out.
Mia shakes her head but her family managed to get at least a small smirk from her.
“All of the fucking above.
In all honesty I’m pissed. Livid. How dare you fucks think that you can just try and tear apart a relationship? How dare you believe that you have what it takes to tear apart a bond that is stronger than anything that you bitches could even DREAM of coming up with. Come to me with that weak ass shit again and I will make you all fucking regret it. I don’t play by the rules of a self righteous, self absorbed, and self proclaimed ‘Moonchild,’ and if those are the games they want to play then so be it. Tit for tat mother trucker, I don’t play by your rules, I’m going to be playing by mine from here on out.”
Mia turns to leave dropping the mic behind her. The other Forsaken members follow suit, all getting out of the ring, except Mia who now has a strange gleam in her eyes as she looks down at Shadow, the first person in CWF to accept her. Ataxia, her Knight in Shining Burlap who showed her that maybe she COULD be loved. And at Dorian, who has only been a member of her family for a couple weeks, but is definitely a big brother figure she never had. A smile crosses her lips at the same time an idea springs into her head. She straightens up and proceeds to pick up the mic, The Forsaken rejoining her in the ring, mildly confused as to what is going on, but still there to support Mia.
“Golden Intentions is coming up and in recent weeks, I think I’ve made my intentions quite clear. Now though, I want to make sure that they are CRYSTAL clear. There are things far more important in this world than prestige.
Honor for sure. Wisdom. Courage. Compassion.
I’m done with the bastardized version of milk and cookies running over this federation. I’m tired of my family being made into a target, and I’m tired of feeling powerless.
Her voice rings out, sending shivers down the spine of everyone in attendance, surprising even herself.
“I hereby challenge any member of your little Girl Scout slash Boy Scout troop to a match. NOT just any match mind you. Since you enjoy the numbers game, just SO fucking much, I hereby issue an open challenge to any of your minions, even yourself, to go one on one...With me in!
A lumberjack match. You bring your minions and I’ll bring my friends. Let’s see who’s bonds are strongest shall we?”
The fans erupt and Mia smiles out to the nearest child, one who is counting the members of The Forsaken in the ring on one hand, and with the other, one can only assume counting the number of people in….
“Yeah I know, those numbers don’t really stack up in my favor do they?”
If it is possible to give little kids heart attacks, it was just proven by Mia as the child she was speaking with couldn’t believe what they are hearing.
“Ya know, I thought of that too in all honesty. I’ve thought long and hard about this. The Infinity Circle of Cookie have the advantage when it comes to numbers, but not when it comes to people they know.
I happen to know SEVERAL people that have taken enough of Elisha and company’s shit for a while. So why not make things super simple on everyone shall we?
There will be a lumberjack match. Mia Rayne versus an Oreo Cookie flavor that has yet to be determined. The lumberjacks thus far are the remaining members of the group that the match participants are members of AND!”
Mia proceeds over to the closest camera operator, grabs his camera, props it up in a corner, and eyes it dead in the lens.
“Each and every one of you in the back. I get so fucking tired of hearing all this self righteous bullshit about how you all wish there was something that you could do to take down this super evil mega group. Yet no one has done it, save for Ms. Flair earlier tonight. Nothing to bat an eyelash at for sure, but I can promise you all this. You haven’t seen anything yet. I’m here right here and right now to tell all of you that I am going to be taking the fight to the monsters that ruined the Oreo cookie for me. I know there are people in the back itching to get their hands on this group and this is where I need you all to please heed my words. Come join in on the fun, SHOW this federation how much it means to you and fight against something that threatens to wipe out every piece of awesome that makes this place great.
You want a chance to do something big in this fight? Now is your chance.
You were looking for a flag to fight under? Use mine.
You want a reason to join and pick a side? Here’s your reason. Stand with The Forsaken or fall in front of us. It is time to fight back. No excuses. No nothing. Let’s show them what we’re made of, shall we?
Mia holds the mic up in the air as the crowd all finish off the last line as The Forsaken make their way to the back.
A high angled shot of the arena shows the near capacity crowd of the Dunkin' Doughnuts Center, some fans are lined up at concession stands while others are just returning to their seats. As the shot comes back to the ring we find a wooden table set up in the center of the ring with a black silk tablecloth laid over top of it. There are three high backed leather chairs, one on either side of the table and one in the center. Beside the chair in the center stands Blake Church.
Blake Church: Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now time for the offical contract signing for the Paramount Championship match scheduled to take place at Golden Intentions! We will pit the defending Champion, "The Internet Icon" himself, against a man that's been no stranger to the title. The former Paramount Champion, and "The King of Wrestling" Christian STARR! And I have just been informed that this match now has a special stipulation to ensure we crown the best man as Champion... This match is now a Submission Match!
The crowd let out a deafening cheer at the announcement, but they don't have long to react as the titantron draws all the attention of the crowd as the screen lights up with the words to "Kings Never Die..."' The camera pans down to the entrance ramp where now a single spotlight shines brightly behind Christian Starr.
HAAAAAAILLL TO THE KIIINNNNG!
The lights flare to an almost blinding intensity as Avenged Sevenfold's "Hail to the King" takes over the arenas P.A. system. As the lights adjust, there stands Christian STARR, a determined look in his eye and a grimace on his face.
HAAAAILLLL TO THE OOONNNNE!
Starr turns around and starts backing his way down the entrance way with a clearly confident swagger to his step after tonight's victory over Silas Artoria, he holds his arms outstretched and takes in the boos from the Rhode Island crowd.
Blake Church: Introducing first, the challenger. From Los Angeles, California. Please welcome to the ring, Christian STARR!
Mike Rolash: And here we go! The rematch everyone's been clamoring for becomes official! STARR finally gets his much deserved rematch for the Paramount Championship!
Jim Gunt: And did you hear that announcement, Mike!? This is now a submission match! Very fitting considering these two have been torturing each other with their signuature holds for weeks now!
Starr slides into the ring and circles around the wooden table set up in the center of the squared circle. His eyes lock on the two clipboards sat on top. He walks around to the far side of the ring where he shakes hands with Church and takes his seat in the tall leather backed chair.
Blake Church: Christian, congratulations on an excellent match earlier tonight! Is there anything you want to get off your chest before we bring out Jarvis and make your match official?
Church holds the microphone towards Christian, but the King of Wrestling shakes his head.
Christian STARR: The time for games is over, Blake. Anything I've got left to say to Jarvis, I'll say to his face.
Blake Church: Very well then. Then, without further ado... Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome.. The Paramount Champion. Jarvis King!!!
The lights in the arena go down, and the crowd on hand gets to its feet as the opening lick of "Hello Timebomb" by Matthew Good Band plays. A single, bare lightbulb descends from the rafters, in the middle of the stage.
I found me a reason...
As the song continues to build, more and more lightbulbs descend around the stage, giving an eerie, ambient glow to the stage. As the song begins to reach a crescendo, smoke pours from the entranceway, and in an elegant script, words are scrawled across the screen:
Some men are born great
Some achieve greatness
But only one man is Jarvis J. King
The crowd explodes in rapturous acclaim, as the lights in the arena come back on with a bang. From the smoke emerges The Internet Icon, with the Paramount Championship over his shoulder and a wry smirk on his face. He raises his Paramount Championship and begins to saunter confidently to the ring, with a steely determination in his eyes.
The crowd roars their approval as Jarvis slides into the ring, and rolls to his feet. Grabbing the title as he stands, he slams the belt down on the table in front of STARR and leans over the table, getting eye to eye with his challenger. The near capacity crowd going absolutely insane. Eventually, Jarvis slowly takes his seat, never taking his eyes off of Christian, he takes a microphone from the table.
Jarvis King: I'm sure you're not too used to this, are you kid? Usually when you and I are in a ring together you're coming at me from behind. Not so tough now that you're face to face with me, are you?
Christian snatches Church's microphone away from him and leans himself more into the table getting nose to nose with Jarvis.
Christian STARR: This coming from the man who's only had the balls to defend this title once? When I was the Paramount Champion I defended that title every, single week.
Jarvis King: And then you lost it to me! And I've done more in this company than you've even begun to understand, Starr. The only reason you had to defend this title every week is because you still have to make a name for yourself! I'm a Hall of Famer, I don't have anything to prove to you.
Christian STARR: But you do, Jarvis! Otherwise you wouldn't be here! You wouldn't have had to sneak your way into screwing me out of a win last week! You wouldn't have entered yourself into the Rumble at number two! I got under your skin, old man, and you're afraid that this young stud is about to take you out to pasture for good!
Jarvis isn't one to take that kind of insult sitting down! He springs to his feet, the leather chair falling away from the sheer force of him standing up. Christian cocks a sly grin at the Paramount Champion and slowly and confidently pushes himself to his feet as well, he kicks his chair away
Jarvis King: You haven't been a star for a minute Christian! Do you really think you're the first rookie that's come here and threatened to take me out? You're nothing but a punk kid! If Shane couldn't put me down, you sure as hell don't stand a chance! I've retired more people than you've beaten, and at Golden Intentions, you're going to be just another forgotten upstart that can't hold his own against the REAL Paramount Champion!
Jarvis slams his microphone down on the table and quickly grabs a clipboard from in front of him. He flips to the last page of the contract and using the pen attached to the board he quickly signs his name and throws it back down the table. He grabs the Paramount Championship and holds it up, almost shoving it in STARR's face.
Christian STARR: I guess we'll find out about that won't we?
STARR grabs his own contract from the table and does the same as Jarvis, instead he throws the entire table to the ground. He steps right up to Jarvis and the two stand nose to nose in the center of the ring. Egos ready to implode, the capacity crowd is going wild!
Blake Church: Let's save the match for Golden Intentions, gentlem-
STARR shoves Church to the ground, and Jarvis is the first to strike! He throws a wild elbow at Christian, followed by another, and another. He two hands STARR right into the corner and walks his way to center ring letting out a primal scream as the crowd cheers him on!
Jarvis charges the challenger, but STARR has enough composure to kick Jarvis square in the family jewels! The Champion drops like a pile of rocks! The crowd are quick to turn their cheers into jeers as Christian goes on the attack. He rushes in and nails the E.D.S. driving King's face right into the canvas.
STARR turns his attention to the tipped table in the center of the ring, a sinister smile crosses his face. The King of Wrestling picks the table up, rolling the tablecloth off to the side as he does. He sets it up right in the center of the ring and turns back to King who is just barely to his knees. Christian grabs King by the hair and drags him towards the table, but The Internet Icon has enough wherewithal to recover, and shoves STARR towards the table. Christain hits the table and doubles over. King uses the chance to run the ropes and charges in at STARR!
POP-UP POWERBOMB! STARR puts King through the table much to the chagrin of the crowd! Christian stands over Jarvis, starting down at the Paramount Champion like a man possessed, just as the cavalry arrrives. The local security team rushes the ring and pulls STARR away as EMT's run in just behind them to check on Jarvis.
Mike Rolash: We're in for one hell of a match at Golden Intentions! I don't think either of these guys are going to hold anything back!
Jim Gunt: This show is moving so fast, we barely have a chance to catch on everything that is happening! So Ataxia seems to have accpted the challenge for the cage match. Kind of. With a bird named Silas that keeps screeching "World title"...
Mike Rolash: That poor bird! And can you imagine once he gets a dodo on top of it! That cage will be overcrowded!
Jim Gunt: Uh, you know that dodos are extinct, right?
Mike Rolash: What? Did he kill the last--
Jim Gunt: No, no, no, they have been gone for a loooooong time.
Mike Rolash: Oh, but where is he--
Jim Gunt: Moving on... J. Rish has one of the busiest evenings ever, with Eric Dane now also laying into him and looks like he has a quite formidable legal arsenal at his disposal. And of course the contract between Christian Starr and Jarvis King is signed, ladies and gentlemen, and now we have Eric Dane and MJ Flair teaming up again against The Shadow and Revenant, coming right up here on CWF's Evolution!
"The Devil Beneath My Feet" by Marilyn Manson starts to play and Eric Dane steps out through the curtain, raising his arms to the crowd as if he was the king of CWF. While there are many cheers, the reaction is not unanimous, something that completely changes as Otep's "Smash the Control Machine" replaces the music and MJ Flair comes out to an overwhelming reaction, the Rhode Island fans on their feet, bringing a bit of a smirk to Dane's face, as he is not used to be outshined by someone else.
Together they begin to make their way down to the ring, slapping outstretched hands before rolling into the ring and taking up positions in the two far corners of the squared circle.
Ray Douglas: The next contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall. First to the ring, the team of Eric Dane and EMM JAY FLAAIR!
The crowd once more goes nuts, but quickly quiets down as Three Days Graces's "Time of Dying" begins to play and Revenant steps out onto the stage. He regards the fans and their mixed response with indifference as he walks down the ramp, ignoring any hands stretched his way. As he reaches the ring, all lights go out and "Mea Culpa" by After Forever starts with its ominous keyboard sounds. As the choir sets in, fog starts to waft around the ring, illuminated only with dark, purple light, the ring itself is dark. As the choirs reach their crescendo, the purple light flickers with rising intensity and as the choir stops, the lights go back on and he stands in the centre of the ring, stoic and unmoving under his hood.
Ray Douglas: And their opponents, Revenant and The Shadow!
The crowd's reactions are a lot more mixed this time, but neither of the men really pay much heed to that as they are putting their heads together for some quick tactical discussion.
The four competitors stand in the ring, Eric Dane and Mariella Jade Flair on one side, the Shadow and Revenant on the other.
Before the referee can call for the bell, J Rish steps onto the entrance ramp, microphone in hand. He seems uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to another. The audience erupts, some cheers, some boos, as he raises the mic to speak.
J. Rish: Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to announce that, for your viewing entertainment...this match has now been turned into a Lumberjack match!
”Hope” by Apocalyptica hits the speakers. The audience rain down a torrent of abuse as Elisha, Cassandra and Choronzon make their way out from backstage. Elisha slaps Rish on the back, giving him an exaggerated thumbs up. Cassandra turns to the camera as she passes, blows a kiss. From behind them, Judas staggers out, unbroken but clearly feeling the effects of his earlier encounter with MJ Flair.
Cassandra: Yo, Mia. Challenge accepted!
As Ouroboros make their way down the ramp, the Chosen, seated at ringside, jump the barrier. The two groups converge and fan out, surrounding the ring like a pack of animals ready for the kill. Elisha stands at ringside, making brief eye contact with Revenant.
Jim Gunt: What in the hell? This is a Lumberjack match? Since when?
Mike Rolash: Since Rish said so, that's when.
In the ring, Eric Dane looks to MJF, mouthing “what the fuck!?”. MJF just shrugs. She remains in the ring as Revenant enters it.The mountain of a man cracks his neck, and MJ Flair goes into a defensive stance. She knows better than to go for a lockup with the 300-pound Revenant, and instead ducks in and out of his range, throwing jab punches to the masked man’s face. Revenant swings his mighty arms, trying to clip Flair, but she nimbly dodges. Eventually she nails a particularly crisp uppercut, sending Revenant reeling - but as she bounces off the ropes to capitalize, Choronzon grabs the ropes, causing MJ to stumble and leaving her open to a right hand from Incubus.
Jim Gunt: Damn it! Is no-one going to stop the Chosen? MJ Flair and Eric Dane fought what amounted to a four-on-two match last week, and now Ouroboros are looking like they’re going to make this… sixteen on one!
Mike Rolash: Good thing the Druids and the Forsaken aren’t out here too…
MJ rounds furiously on the Chosen, and they shrug. Annoyed, MJ tags in Eric Dane.
Jim Gunt: MJ Flair is tough as nails, but she can’t take down someone of Revenant’s size if her mobility is limited by the Lumberjacks.
Mike Rolash: Really? Not “cut down by the Lumberjacks”?
Eric Dane enters. He tries his luck with a lockup, despite Revenant’s size advantage, and succeeds in throwing the giant to the ground with some wrestling trick doubtlessly picked up somewhere down the decades. With surprising agility, Revenant springs to his feet, and catches Dane off-guard with a big right hand. Dane is knocked to the ground but makes his way to the ropes and hauls himself up. He cricks his neck, not intending to make the same mistake twice. Instead, he decides to try a different tack, crash-tackling Revenant and using all-out offence to knock the Undead Man off his game.
Jim Gunt: Eric Dane showing his chops here.
Mike Rolash: No, those were punches. Try to keep up, Jim.
Revenant is sufficiently flummoxed by the unexpectedly fierce offence from Eric Dane that he tags in the Shadow. The Weaver of Dreams enters the ring slowly, sizing up his opponent. Eric Dane awaits the Shadow, and offers a grapple. The Shadow accepts, with some trepidation - trepidation that is shortly proved reasonable, as Eric Dane manages to throw him in a fisherman’s suplex within about ten seconds of locking up. The Shadow quickly rises to his feet, determined to avoid the same fate. Instead, he begins throwing rights and lefts, attempting to build some momentum. Finally, he throws a big boot - which Eric Dane catches, but Shadow is able to nail an Enzuigeri, clipping the veteran over the back of the neck!
The Shadow’s expression is inscrutable, but he observes Dane rising and tags in the Revenant. The giant charges Eric Dane, but the wily veteran ducks out of the way and, having taken a beating at the hands of the Shadow, tags in MJ Flair. The crowd cheers as the former World Champion vaults over the ropes. She seems to have a new strategy in mind for dealing with the Undeadman, swinging in with rights and lefts as before - but when Revenant swings a big right hand, MJ grabs his arm and twists it into an armbar! Revenant roars in pain and powers his way to his feet, and MJ tags in Eric Dane, who scrutinizes the large arm before him and nails a hard strike directly to the crook of the elbow. Despite Revenant’s great strength, the pressure point causes him to collapse, and Eric Dane locks in a Kimura Lock! Revenant yells out, but Dane keeps applying the hold, wrenching it at crucial moments.
Jim Gunt: Submission locked! Will Revenant tap out?
Mike Rolash: My reply is no.
Mike is proved correct - despite being stuck in the hold for over two minutes, Revenant eventually powers out with a series of strikes. Dane is thrown off and Revenant rolls outside the ring - and the Lumberjacks do nothing!
Jim Gunt: Well, this confirms it. Ouroboros is going after MJ Flair and Eric Dane, they’re not even hiding it anymore.
Mike Rolash: Well, I mean, it’s not like Revenant has ever likened them to baked goods… or parked a forklift outside their locker room.
Jim Gunt: Shadow calls them the Oreos too, and yet they’re helping him. Could the tides be turning in CWF?
Eric Dane loudly curses and rolls out of the ring - whereupon four Chosen immediately descend upon him, throwing him back into the ring! The crowd boos loudly, and when an irate Dane looks across the ring to the Shadow, all the Weaver can do is shrug.
Jim Gunt: The Shadow looking nonplussed here. What do you think is going through his head?
Mike Rolash: Reply hazy, try again.
Jim Gunt: … what?
Revenant re-enters the ring, at which point Dane tags in MJ Flair. MJ resumes a fierce offence, opting to continue targeting Revenant’s arm with roundhouse kicks and hammerlock attempts. Revenant is eventually able to throw her off and tag in the Shadow, who enters the ring and waits for MJ to rise before locking up with her. He gains the advantage in the lockup, being fresher, and pushes MJ into the corner, where he delivers a sharp blow to her solar plexus. MJ gasps, and Shadow whips her into the opposing corner, but when he makes to charge in for a clothesline, she counters by getting her foot up for a big boot! She goes back on the offensive, but Shadow is able to counter and throws her outside the ring.
Jim Gunt: I wonder if that was a deliberate move?
Mike Rolash: Without a doubt.
Ouroboros descend, but referee Scott Dean is distracted by Eric Dane attempting to cross the ring, attempting to aid his comrade. On the outside, MJ Flair is subjected to a massive beatdown at the hands of the Chosen and Ouroboros. Choronzon and Jezebel beat MJ to the ground, raining down stomps as the crowd rains down boos. Eventually, after much wild gesticulation from Eric Dane, Scott Dean turns around and the Chosen throw MJ back into the ring.
The Shadow looks unsure as to what to make of this. He reluctantly continues his offence, knowing that the match must go on and resigning himself to the fact that a tainted victory is a victory nonetheless. He hoists MJ onto his shoulders, putting her in the Gates of Hell submission hold. The former Champion screams, but does not submit. After nearly a full five minutes, Shadow, almost as tired as MJ from maintaining the hold, weakens it for just a second - which is all MJ needs! She drops down, kicks the Shadow in the chin from the ground, and scrambles over to her corner!
Jim Gunt: MJ Flair breaking loose! Will she make it!
Mike Rolash: Ask again later.
Jim Gunt: Okay, what the hell is - is that a Magic 8-Ball?
Mike Rolash: I was seeing how long it’d take you to notice.
MJ does indeed make it to her corner - but Eric Dane is grabbed from behind by Elisha, who throws him into the barricade around the outside! The crowd boos and Scott Dean begins to signal for the bell - but Cassandra leaps into the ring and puts him into her Beautiful Lie Dragon Sleeper! The Shadow clobbers her on the back of the head and throws her out of the ring - but the referee is already down! Ouroboros abandon all pretences and begin laying waste to MJ and Eric Dane, with Elisha, Armilus, Lilith and Heresiarch punching Dane repeatedly across his body and face, and Cassandra, Jezebel and Choronzon doing the same to MJ Flair. The Shadow’s face bears an increasingly angry expression, and his fist clenches, about to strike - until a roaring cheer from the crowd draws his attention to the ramp!
Jim Gunt: It’s Caledonia! The World Champion is here!
Mike Rolash: And she’s not alone…
An irate Caledonia, backed by Amber Ryan and Eris, charges the ring, plowing through the Chosen that meet them at the bottom of the ramp and coming to her friend MJ’s rescue. Amber and Eris continue fighting the Chosen at the ramp, and Elisha glances sideways to the ring. He ignores the Champion for the time being, instead instructing his Chosen to drag Eric Dane to the announcers’ table, where he sets him up for a Ganso Bomb.
Jim Gunt: Let’s get the hell out of here!
Before Elisha can drop the bomb, though, he is blindsided by a man leaping off the security barrier, having come through the crowd - Bronson Box crash-tackles the Moonchild and lays down rights and lefts before being hauled off him by the Chosen. The Wargod fights his way out of the mess and helps Eric Dane to his feet. The two fight Ouroboros despite being outnumbered, and put up a valiant fight despite Dane’s injuries.
In the ring, Caledonia has gotten Ouroboros’ focus off MJ Flair and onto herself - and the Champion looks to be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. Choronzon holds her arms while Cassandra and Jezebel give Caledonia the same treatment MJ had received - but the Shadow can hold back no longer, and he clobbers an unsuspecting Jezebel on the back of the head! The momentary distraction allows Caledonia to throw Choronzon off her. As Shadow throws Cassandra from the ring, Caledonia crash-tackles Jezebel, and the two continue to brawl outside the ring and into the melee on the ramp.
Jim Gunt: All hell has broken loose!
The regular match finally resumes, with Shadow and MJ Flair as the legal competitors. Shadow hauls MJ to her feet, throwing her into the ropes and nailing the Hammer of the Gods running dropkick. He goes for the cover… and Scott Dean is still down! Exasperated, he checks for which corner is clearest of Ouroboros, and climbs to the top rope. The crowd cheers as the Shadow sets up for Nightfall. He waits for MJ to rise, and Eric Dane reaches the top rope, Bronson Box having delightedly accepted a four-on-one brawl for the sake of giving his friend his best shot at victory. Dane, seeing that the referee is down, goes to knock Shadow off the top rope - but Revenant springs into action, blindsiding the veteran and knocking him outside the ring, where he is set upon by Ouroboros.
Jim Gunt: Damn it! Eric Dane receiving yet another hellacious beating at the hands of these bastards!
The Shadow nods at his tag team partner, still waiting for MJ to get to her feet. She does, and rises facing away from Shadow. Revenant looks momentarily outside the ring.
Jim Gunt: Wait a minute…
As Shadow leaps through the air to deliver Nightfall to MJ Flair, he is abruptly caught in mid-air - by Revenant! The crowd boos wildly as the Undeadman slams down the Shadow with the Last Breath Powerbomb!
Jim Gunt: Revenant has betrayed his tag team partner! He’s - oh my God!
MJ Flair sees nothing, and grabs Shadow as he slowly staggers to his feet, as does the referee - MJ NAILS THE MORNING STAR!
Ray Douglas: Here are your winners - MJ FLAIR AND ERIC DANE!
MJ looks surprised when the crowd boos her victory, but her surprise gives way to anger when she sees the action replay. She helps Shadow to his feet, apologizing. The Weaver of Dreams looks similarly angry, but accepts her help.
The bell rings. Before the music can play, Ouroboros and the Chosen hop onto to the ring apron, moving as one, trapping all those inside. They pause a moment, before Elisha nods, and the group enters the ring to a chorus of boos from the crowd.
MJF goes to attack Elisha, tackling him to the ground, pounding him with a series of rights and left. Eric Dane does likewise, swinging for Cassandra. She ducks and uses his momentum against him, sending him crashing to the mat.
Armilus and Lilith, two of the Chosen, hold the Shadow steady as Jezebel bombards him with a series of kicks to the stomach. He struggles, forces one arm free, goes to punch her but she slips back, laughing before slapping him across the face.
The rest of the Chosen exit the ring, grabbing chairs and tables and tossing them into the ring. In one corner, seemingly free from it all…
Jim Gunt: Revenant!?
Revenant stands calm, watching the proceedings, a satisfied smirk on his face. Elisha watches him, stepping through the bodies as they tear each other apart.
Revenant and Elisha stand a moment. Suddenly, Revenant pulls his glove from off his right hand and raises his fist to the sky.
On the back of his hand is the atom-in-ouroboros.
Jim Gunt: Does this mean... Revenant has joined Ouroboros!?
Mike Rolash: Certainly looks that way Jimbo.
Elisha and Revenant shake hands, Elisha ecstatic, Revenant clearly ready for blood. One of the Chosen passes him a chair and he turns, swinging it towards the Shadow, taking him out with a vicious blow to the head!
Suddenly, Eric Dane charges across the ring, leaps, goes to tackle Revenant to the ground. Elisha pulls him off, slamming him into the mat with a brutal powerbomb. Bronson Box slides in like clockwork, driving a series of fists into Revenant's face!
Suddenly, the crowd begin to cheer as Ataxia, Mia and Dorian Hawkhurst make their way down the ramp. They enter the ring and everything turns to chaos, fists flying, boots lashing out, bodies scattered left and right.
Jim Gunt: Fans, we've got to cut to a break...it is absolute pandemonium here tonight!
After a lengthy break with some features of new and old shows on the CWF Network, the picture returns to the ring and its surroundings cleaned up as good as they could be after the insane battle between Ouroboros, Forsaken, Flair, Dane and Bronson Box.
Jim Gunt: Welcome back to Evolution, coming to you live from Providence, Rhode Island, and this was an insane aftermath to the match between MJ Flair and Eric Dane on one side and The Shadow and Revenant on the other.
Mike Rolash: Yes, Rish making this a lumberjack match with Ouroboros as lumberjacks and then this intense and brutal battle after, together with Revenant turning on The Shadow and joining Ouroboros, this is getting out of hand!
Jim Gunt: I guess that we now know who Schamor was talking to, but the next match has just as much conflict potential with Caledonia having fought the Institute and Ouroboros for a long time now and Dorian being a member of The Forsaken does not help things along either...
“From the Pinnacle to the Pit” by Ghost starts to play and Dorian Hawkhurst comes out from behind the curtain, immediately garnering a loud response from the Rhode Island crowd. Spotlights show the man as he makes a momentary pose, eventually heading down the ramp and cracking his neck back and forth, sliding into the ring once he makes his way there. Hawkhurst makes his way across all four sets of ropes, testing each of them out.
Ray Douglas: Ladies and gentleman, it is time for tonight’s MAAAIN EVENT! Introducing first, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he is….DORIAN HAWKHURST!!
Jim Gunt: Wow, the intensity in Dorian tonight is absolutely crazy. I have never seen the man like this!
Mike Rolash: Well, one would say this is possibly the biggest match of the big man’s career thus far. He has been calling out Cali for weeks- tonight he gets exactly what he’s been asking for.
Jim Gunt: But you know what they say, Mike. Be careful what you wish for.
The lights in the arena dim, and blue spotlights swing around. Day and Night`` by Billie Piper hits over the PA as Caledonia steps out onto the stage, World Heavyweight Title draped around her shoulder, to tremendous applause. She poses briefly at the top of the ramp, and begins walking down. Caledonia reaches the ring and vaults over the ropes, striking a pose in the middle of the ring as all spotlights converge on her.
Ray Douglas: And his opponent, from London, England, she is the current CWF World Heavyweight Champion….CALEDONIA HIGHLANDER!!
Head official Trent Robbins is tasked with the main event this evening, and he looks more than ready for whatever is to come as he boldly calls both competitors to the middle of the ring, checks them for weapons and quickly goes over the monotonous process of reading the rules.
Jim Gunt: Although both of these two seem to have fallen under the “no contact pact” agreement made under the Shadow, you have to think that Dorian is really looking to put a stamp on his career by defeating the champion tonight.
Mike Rolash: Unfortunately for the Forsaken Demon, this match is only a non title match. But hey, if he is able to win this match, it would surely raise him up the rankings right?
Jim Gunt: And give him some much needed momentum heading into Golden Intentions in two weeks, yes. But Mrs. Highlander had been on an absolute tear as of late, making damn near the entire roster tap out week after week. Can Dorian find that energy to get out of the bed...of roses?
Finally Robbins calls for the bell, immediately bringing the Rhode Islanders to their feet to cheer aloud. Neither Dorian or Caledonia show a hint of wanting to start the match off dirty, the former calling her right to the center of the ring and even lowering his head to allow her a free headlock. This brings a flared eyebrow up from Cali, who simply shakes her head no and calls for a test of strength instead. Dorian shrugs his shoulders and obliges, but as soon as they hook up he is surprised to find Caledonia maneuvering behind him and taking him down with a Drop Toe Hold.
Jim Gunt: That's why she's the champ, Mike, incredible ingenuity from Caledonia.
Mike Rolash: I don't why she didn't take up Dorian on his offer for a headlock. How impolite.
Caledonia hits a well placed dropkick as soon as Hawkhurst gets back to his feet, which brings him into the corner and prone for her to begin driving her shoulders into his gut. Dorian has had enough playing nicely however, yanking Cali right into a stiff knee to her chin. A second knee follows and before she can regain her composure Caledonia finds herself flipped onto the shoulders of Dorian. He runs right for the center of the ring and plants her like an apple tree. FALLING OFF THE WAGON! The Sit Out Powerbomb clearly rocks Highlander, and Hawkhurst knows it as he holds onto her for the pin attempt.
Jim Gunt: What a move from the king of Powerbombs, Mr. Dorian Hawkhurst!
Mike Rolash: Oh quit kissing the man’s ass already.
Jim Gunt: I'm just trying to do my job, Mike. Take notes.
Cali rolls not just her right shoulder, but nearly the entirety of her body to the side to push her way out. With a collective sigh of relief, the Providence fans sit back down to continue watching. Dorian Hawkhurst however isn't content to remain seated, instead choosing to tug Cali right back to her feet. He lifts her up for a second Powerbomb looking to put the CWF World Champion away this time. The Demon of Sobriety heads towards the center of the ring but in mid move Cali makes hers, transitioning off the shoulders of Hawkhurst and grabbing his head at the same time. TORNADO DDT!
Jim Gunt: Caledonia just brought down the house with that Tornado DDT!
Mike Rolash: Something you don't know much about when it comes to your petty jokes, I'm imagining?
Jim Gunt: Fuck off, man.
Crawling over to the body of the former Impact champion, Caledonia rolls him over to make a tired cover over Dorian.
Jim Gunt: Hard kickout there by Dorian Hawkhurst!
Mike Rolash: Both competitors now with one near fall a piece under their belts, meaning this match has been incredibly close so far. Think the Oreos will come out and spoil things before they get too hot?
Jim Gunt: I’m not sure you and everyone else calling them silly names is really the best strategy to go up against a force like the Ouroboros…
Mike Rolash: Fine then. I never quite fit in with the in crowd, anyway.
Jim Gunt: Yeah, no kidding.
Neither the World Heavyweight champion, nor the Forsaken’s newest member finds themselves on their feet right away, both superstars taking a little extra time to recover before coming right back to the center of the ring towards each other. Caledonia hits a spinning wheel kick to Dorian Hawkhurst, but he catches her on the way through and in a flash has both of them doubled over. CAPTURE SUPLEX!
He isn’t done with her though, bringing her right back to her feet and into the ropes. FLAPJACK! With the Demon of Sobriety now in control of the champion, he drags her to the corner and begins to eye her up. Hawkhurst raises his right boot to begin stomping the daylights out of Cali- but something inside of him holds him back. Head official Trent Robbins stops in his tracks, as he was about to try to stop Dorian from stomping away at the cornered Cali. Instead he backs up, allowing Hawkhurst full range to run at the now risen champion and nail her with a mammoth BODY AVALANCHE! Cali crashes to the canvas, and Hawkhurst doesn’t hesitate this time, going right for the cover.
THR-NO! CALI WITH HER RIGHT LEG ON THE ROPES!
Jim Gunt: Lucky break there for the World Heavyweight Champion, as Dorian Hawkhurst has been absolutely dominating Caledonia over the past few minutes. If the title was on the line tonight, she could really be in trouble.
Mike Rolash: Title or not, Cali has a lot on the line with Golden Intentions right around the corner. As does Dorian going into the rumble itself. Neither one of these two can really afford a loss here.
With a hint of frustration starting to show, Dorian Hawkhurst heaves out a heavy sigh before pulling himself up with the help of the same ropes Caledonia had saved herself on. The Demon of Sobriety takes a look up the entrance ramp, almost as if he’s awaiting the arrival of the Ouroboros, but none of them are to be found after the battle earlier. Instead he turns his attention back to Cali, lifting her up just to eat a knife edge chop right below the chin. Caledonia follows it up with a dropkick, but Hawkhurst is still not down!
The fearless CWF World Heavyweight Champion moves towards the staggered Hawkhurst for a third hit, but he denies her, instead delivering a double axe handle in mid-move of her attempting a spinning backfist! Dorian hoists Highlander up off of her feet and right to the nearest corner, stunning her with a chop of his own. He hurriedly heads up north with her, the crowd popping immediately as the Demon of Sobriety begins to set up Cali.
Jim Gunt: Dorian is going for his patented Fall From Grace superbomb, if he hits this it’s all over, Mike!
Dorian has Caledonia’s head under his midsection, and he whips her forward- FALL FRO-NO! The World Champion uses her expert intuition to switch the maneuver in midair, right into a beautiful Hurricanrana! Both competitors are left laying on their backs however, as Caledonia cannot capitalize as exhaustion has truly begun to take effect. Just as Trent Robbins looks to count out either or both of them, slow movement begins. Cali, on her knees, hits an elbow to the jaw of a rising Dorian Hawkhurst. The two of them continue rising, throwing punches that would knock out a heavyweight boxer.
“LET’S GO CALI!”
Jim Gunt: This one is going into overtime, Mike! Both Hawkhurst and Highlander have shown incredible heart tonight, but the two of them are clearly spent!
Mike Rolash: You mean Shadow hasn’t taken Dorian’s heart when he joined the Forsaken?
Jim Gunt: It’s souls that the Weaver of Dreams takes you idiot, and he doesn’t take them to join the group. For god’s sakes, he’s not Chaolin Sahn.
Both competitors now barely able to stand on their feet, three back and forth right hands being struck by each of them. Caledonia and Dorian both run at each other at the same time, the lighter Highlander coming off her feet. No- Dorian catches her!
Jim Gunt: Caledonia Highlander attempting to use her body as a weapon of mass destruction, but no go as the bigger Hawkhurst caught her like a fly!
FALLAWAY SLAM! Caledonia is turned inside out from one hell of a Fallaway Slam by Dorian Hawkhurst, who rolls to his side and then right on top of the World champion, hooking both of her legs as a number of the fans count along.
NO! CALEDONIA KICKS OUT AT THE LAST SECOND!
Jim Gunt: My GOD! Good thing we pay our sponsors well, because I’m not sure either one of these two are going to let us end this night.
Mike Rolash: Momentum is a big thing going into a pay per view, Jimbo, and no matter all the crap going on with the Ouroboros and them all right now, that doesn’t make momentum any less important.
Jim Gunt: Good point...for once.
Mike Rolash: Ha! I’m going to write this down!
This time Dorian Hawkhurst doesn’t even waste a second to show any signs of frustration, instead pulling Caledonia right back off the canvas. He is looking to put her away right here and now! Hoisting Cali up in the air, Hawkhurst once again goes towards the corner looking to get her ready for the Fall From Grace. But she leaps out of his hands and dropkicks him to hell! HANDSPRING ELBOW FOLLOWS IT UP!
Caledonia has now gained some much needed momentum, and the crowd is really getting on her side as the Rhode Islanders scream their lungs out to support their champion. Cali eyes up the slowly rising Dorian like a sniper, leaping up on his back as he fully extends. THE BED OF ROSES!
Jim Gunt: The Bed of Roses, Mike! Caledonia just locked on the most deadly move in CWF history!
Mike Rolash: It is beginning to look that way, at least as of late. Cali has put away the best of the best with this maneuver, and she has Hawkhurst right in the middle of the ring!
Dorian Hawkhurst is not going to go down without a fight, squirming and doing his very best to try to pull himself out of his grasp of the World Heavyweight Champion. She has the Bed of Roses sunk in deeper than ever though, and even as the big man somehow begins to muscle himself up to his feet, Caledonia still hangs on. BLAST! Hawkhurst runs backwards into the nearest turnbuckle, bashing Cali hard against it. BUT SHE WILL NOT RELEASE HER GRASP! With one deep snap of her arms and a bend of both legs, Caledonia uses all her strength to muscle Hawkhurst right back to the canvas. The crowd watches on in awe, as it looks like once again another top tier talent is going to tap out to the Bed of Roses. And after taking one look around the ring to see if he can muscle his way to the ropes, Hawkhurst collapses to the canvas, his right hand weakly tapping the canvas.
Jim Gunt: It’s over!
Ray Douglas: And your winner of this match by submission….CALEDONIA HIGHLANDER!!
The bell rings. The referee barely has time to raise Caledonia's arm before the crowd starts to boo incessantly, a familiar group making their way down the entrance ramp.
Jim Gunt: Ouroboros! Again!? These bastards are ruining our show! Somebody's got to stop this!
Mike Rolash: Something holding you back, Jimbo?
Jim Gunt: I suffer from a debilitating medical condition called “not wanting my skull turned into a damned football”-itis.
The five make their way down the ramp, walking side by side, Elisha, Cassandra, Choronzon, the newest inductee Revenant, and the returning - though still bruised and battered - Judas. Each carries a weapon - a cane wrapped in barbed wire, a bat wrapped in a petrol-soaked towel, a chair, an iron cricket bat and a glove studded in broken glass. Each has an expression of absolute arrogance and contempt.
They march down the ramp, eyes focused square on the ring ahead. Caledonia and Dorian glance at each other, at Ouroboros, back to each other. Neither moves an inch.
Suddenly, the crowd erupts in a chorus of cheers. From one side of the arena, we see Ataxia, Mia and the Shadow making their way through the crowd, heading straight for the entrance ramp; from the other, MJF, Bronson Box and Eric Dane do the same. They arrive at the entrance ramp at the same moment, jumping the barrier as one.
Mia heads straight for Cassandra, tackling her to the ground, smashing her head repeatedly into the entrance ramp. Cassandra lets out a blood curdling scream, shoving Mia with all her strength, sending her up and stumbling back into the guardrail.
Revenant and Judas square off against MJF, Bronson Box and Eric Dane, Revenant smashing Dane in the stomach with a vicious boot, DDTing him into the entrance ramp, skull and steel connecting. Judas spits in MJF’s face, snarls, goes to smash her with a steel chair. She ducks, the chair rebounds off the guard rail; before she can capitalise he lashes out again, connecting this time, smacking her in the ribs. She doubles over in pain, he goes to grab her for a DDT but she powers out, tackling him to the ground.
Elisha and Choronzon take on Shadow and Ataxia, fists and boots flying left and right. Choronzon gives the Shadow the finger before lunging at him, pulverising him with a series of punches to the stomach, Shadow countering with boots to the legs, forcing Choronzon to his knees. Ataxia and Elisha lock up, vying for supremacy, Ataxia shoving Elisha into the guardrail. Ataxia goes to charge at Elisha but Elisha ducks, Ataxia crashing painfully into the guardrail.
Jim Gunt: This is pandemonium!
Dorian and Caledonia exit the ring, making their way up the ramp, heading straight for the melee. The Chosen follow in hot pursuit, Armilus and Lilith hurling further weapons into the fracas. Jezebel makes a beeline for Judas, the two of them laying into MJF, Bronson Box fighting them off. MJF shoves Jezebel back, sending her stumbling into the Shadow. She turns, smashes him in the face, the two bombarding one another.
Caledonia goes to attack Judas, nailing him with a series of boots to the stomach. Before she can continue, she is taken out by a flying clothesline as a familiar red haired figure leaps out from the crowd.
Mike Rolash: Omega!
Omega tackles Caledonia to the ground and pummels her with fists, once, twice, three times. She stands, boots Judas in the face, screams at him before returning her attentions to Caledonia. Before she can do more, she is pulled off by -
Jim Gunt: Amber Ryan!
Amber drags Omega off Caledonia, smashing her in the ribs with a vicious boot. Omega falls to her knees, but before Amber can capitalise Omega trips her, sending her face first into the entrance ramp.
Sam Braxton comes charging down the entrance ramp, shoving his way through the bodies. He goes to smack one of the Chosen in the back of the head.
The man turns - Judas. He and Sam have a stareoff, Judas' first raised, ready to strike but holding back.
The crowd is deafening, cheers, boos and mayhem as the fighting spills out from the entrance ramp to the ringside and the crowd. Mats are pulled up, revealing concrete, chairs swinging, bodies hitting metal.
Eric Dane, finally rising from the DDT on the ramp, zeroes in on Revenant's back and double axe handles him, sending the newest Ouroboro tumbling forward, face first, into the ramp as well!
From behind the chaos, J Rish steps out through the curtain onto the entrance ramp, takes in the chaos before him. Elisha climbs the ropes, his face smeared in blood, battered and breathing heavily. He smirks, mouths a few words...
“YOU MADE THIS HAPPEN”
...then returns to the fight, just in time to catch a roundhouse kick to the face from Mariella Jade Flair.
Jim Gunt: One and all - we will see you at Golden Intentions. 24th June, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Until then -
Mike Rolash: Jim!
Jim Gunt: What?
Mike Rolash: Duck!
Jim Gunt dodges, just in time to avoid Ataxia as he is hurled across the announce table. We hear Cassandra cackle off-camera, suddenly throttled as she stumbled into view, Mia’s arms locked around her throat.
Just coming into shot, the Druids make their way through the crowd, headed for the ring. As they arrive they are met by the Chosen, Matthias Eddy grabbing Elisha and nailing him with a DDT, Thibodaux targeting Choronzon, grabbing a barbed wire baseball bat from him and smashing him square in the face.
Jim Gunt: Goodnight folks!
Results compiled and archived with the Efed Management Suite
"The concession stands are now selling those cheap hotel room round soap disks that I have personally blessed for $100’s a bar….AND SINNERS….I suggest you buy one, and use it, because if you think your God wants you in his heaven smelling like a 3am New York City uber ride you got another thing coming."