Backstage, we are greeted with darkness.
"The wind, it howls and it sings. A beautiful melody, the flapping of trembling wings."
The voice is low, powerful. The bitter and cold smile of Eclipse flashes before the screen, and his eyes are vivid and bloodshot.
"The children...they are just porcelain dolls. They can be molded and cycled into something new. Reworked, rewired, reclaimed. The rest can't be saved. The rest are Unworthy. To be eradicated, destroyed with an iron fist. Mercy is for the weak. I shall show no mercy. Not now, not anymore."
Eclipse appears to be in a boiler room somewhere backstage. Cold, dark and alone. Just the way he likes it.
"As I walk through the tall grass, I grow more powerful. As my adversaries fall, I grow mighty. Tonight, Jarvis King will get his comeuppance. Chaos comes back for the Crown. Dragons, fire-breathing serpents and beasts of burden will converge. The wind, it howls and it sings. A beautiful melody, the flapping of trembling wings. Tonight the reaper becomes royalty."
With a vicious snarl coming from Eclipse, the camera fades to black.
The Summer Games logo appears on the screen, then starts to flicker and fade.
Voiceover: On July 30th, CWF will change forever...
Fade in of a cage hanging above a ring.
Voiceover: Eight men and women will meet in a steel cage for the End Games!
The faces of The Shadow, Elisha, Ataxia, Judas, Amelia, Revenant and Dorian Hawkhurst flash across the screen.
Voiceover: The Forsaken against Ouroboros, a battle of epic proportions...
A collage of video clips showing various members of both teams fighting.
Voiceover: But only one of them will remain standing, who will it be?
Back to the Summer Games logo.
Voiceover: July 30th, FedExField in Washington, DC. The End is Near...
**Recorded earlier in the day.**
A long, sleek, black and very expensive looking SUV rolls to a quiet halt in the underground parking area of the Nationwide Arena. After a few moments none other than Angus Skaaland hops out of the driver's seat and strolls around to the back passenger side door. By the time he gets there, the door is already open and an all-in-black-clad Eric Dane has emerged into the unseasonably warm Ohio air.
With a confident little smirk The Only Star takes a deep breath and looks out at the general hustle and bustle of the backstage area going on around them. The Motormouth of Malcontent smiles as he approaches his employer and long-time friend.
The BAWS was in rare form tonight, and Angus can tell.
Angus Skaaland: Another night at the office, eh boss?
Eric plucks off the sunglasses that were perched on his nose and hooks them in the collar of his shirt.
Eric Dane: You’re goddamn right…
He takes a step aside, away from the car as he turns to face the SUV’s other passenger.
At first a meticulously polished pair of loafers is all we see. It’s not long before the doorway of the SUV is dwarfed by the shoulder to shoulder width of The Bombastic Bronson Box. He’s in his usual brown and grey pinstripe three piece number, a near-permanent scowl etched on his gnarled mustachioed face.
Eric Dane: Turn that frown upside down, sunshine. We got a looong night ahead of us.
The Hardcase narrows his eyes at his tag team partner for the night as he pulls his bag from the SUV’s boot, Angus scurrying up behind him to yank the rest of the troupes luggage from the car.
The haggis fueled mountain of muscle and bad attitude Dane recently dubbed his “Apocalypse Machine” bristles and scowls at Eric and Angus’ chipper attitudes. The Wargod yanks his dingy green duffel away from Skaaland as soon as he’s in arms reach.
Angus Skaaland: Hey! Cool it, jack. We settled this, remember?
Boxer looks to start off towards the backstage area when Eric hops forward and grabs Bronson’s shoulder.
Eric Dane: Yo, hang back a minute, will ya’?
The bossman silently motions for Angus to grab all the bags and head inside.
Angus Skaaland: Seriously? … Goddamnit…
Boxer and Eric watch for a few moments as Skaaland struggles to shoulder all six of the group's bags of varying size, density and shape. Eventually he finds ballast and stumbles unsteadily towards the door leading to the talents assigned locker rooms for this evening's show.
The Hardcase turns back chuckling under his breath, levity leaves him in an instant when he lays eyes on the dour, sour and all around upset mug of The Original DEFIANT.
Eric Dane: Show’s not even started yet, Hollis, and I can actually see your panties twisting under that ugly fucking suit. You wanna tell me what your problem is right here and now so we can take care of business out there tonight?
The tension between the two men is palpable. Not hostile… but almost.
Boxer takes a small half step to face the man who brought him into the CWF. The snarl of his upper lip, again, isn’t meant as a hostile look but one of pure uncomfortableness.
Bronson Box: I’m fine, ye’ blasted touchy-feely prick. Let’s just bloody go...
He tries and fails to brush past Eric who doesn't move an inch.
Eric Dane: Nope. Not good enough.
Boxer takes a much more aggressive posture now.
The Only Star responds in kind.
Bronson Box: I’m fookin’ here ‘aint I?! I d’nah walk away, I’m FOOKIN’ here.
Eric Dane: Are you really, Hollis? Are you really fuckin’ here with me, ready to face down the man who EMBARRASSED you last week? Or are you here because I made Angus drag your sorry ass back here so I don’t have to take a pinfall ALONE tonight?
Box absolutely seethes. Dane presses him.
Eric Dane: That pseudo-goth fuck made you look like a young-boy out there last week, you’ve been pouting about it like some kind of mewling fucking child for days, and here I see you in front of me and I’d just about rather puke my guts up and walk away than trust you to have my fucking back out there tonight.
The two old enemies come nose to nose.
Eric Dane: [low] You are better than this, better than them!
The red-in-the-face Hardcase waits for the equally red-in-the-face Scottish killing machine to say something. Anything.
Eric Dane: WELL? ARE YOU?
He brazenly gives Boxer a little… but forceful shove.
The two men glower at one another for a tense moment before Boxer suddenly fires back with a shove of his own. A strange look on The Wargod’s face. Determination? The fire is clearly returning to his eyes. His response to Eric is guttural. Like each word is a goddamn lawnmower trying to escape his goddamn lungs.
Bronson Box: AYE, I’M FOOKIN’ BETTER!
Eric Dane: I didn’t cut you all that slack to run balls out-wild and bloody all of those years in DEFIANCE just to bring you in here now and be my barking fucking attack dog, Hollis. I brought you here to do what you do best and that’s maim, kill… and fucking DESTROY! You FEELIN’ me, Hoss?
The Only Star leans in close.
Eric Dane: Fucking show me.
For the first time in near a week a small, sadistic smile curls up in the corner of Bronson Box’s mouth.
The Wargod slowly turns his head and looks Eric Dane square in the eyes and as calmly and matter-of-factly as one would say hello or thank you...
Bronson Box: I’ma kick those two nutter goth pricks to death tonight, Eric... and fookin’ nothin’ else will do.
With that ominous promise, The Bombastic Bronson Box barrels off towards the backstage area.
The BAWS nods his head in satisfaction as he watches him go.
Eric Dane: [to himself] That’s my psychopath.
The cat that ate the canary. The master manipulator.
He takes a moment to pluck his shades from the neckline of his shirt and confidently pop them back onto his face before heading off in Angus and Bronson’s wake.
The air is electric as fans continue to pour into the Nationwide Arena in Columbus, Ohio for Evolution 25, one of CWF's biggest events yet! The tron flickers to life and shows a live feed, for the fans already seated, of the parking lot so they can see their favorite stars arrive. A black sedan pulls up and stops, the driver hops out and opens the back door...
Ladies and germs, Tara Robinson has arrived! She looks around nerviously, obviously timid after the cowardly attack by Silas Artoria. The driver makes sure his charge is alright and then takes off, his duty being done. Tara takes a step toward the door before something tells her to stop and turn around. The parking lot is empty and she swears she's just imagining things until the shadows around her begin to move...
She scrambles to open the door behind her but a reassuring voice calms her.
???: Ms. Robinson, please do not fear. We are only here to help.
The voice sounds familiar and calm, warm and reassuring. Tara opens one of her eyes, which she had squeezed shut at one point fearing the worst, and sees The Shadow in front of her. She opens both eyes and can hardly believe her eyes.
Dorian Hawkhurst and Ataxia stand behind Shadow and to either side while Amelia stands slightly behind Ataxia, a maniacle gleam in her off color eyes. Tara jumps slightly as two Druids appear on either side of her and open the door, holding it for her and awaiting further instruction. Tara looks questioningly from the open doorway and back to Shadow who only smiles knowingly. He strolls forward, followed by the rest of The Forsaken, and takes a bewildered Tara by the arm. His voice is light hearted, but with an undertone of pure fire, daring anyone try to forsake what he says next.
The Shadow: What happened to you at the hands of Silas Artoria is an atrocity. The Forsaken want to assure you that it won't happen again, you are under our protection, and would like to offer you a front row seat for what we have planned tonight. These two gentlemen are Sanford Thibodaux and Stefan Detwyler, they will be your personal bodyguards for the rest of the evening.
Dorian smiles and looks down at Tara, now on the opposite side of Shadow. His voice is also reassuring.
Dorian Hawkhurst: In other words, how would you like the inside scoop on what our dear, sweet Amelia has planned for the evening?
Tara looks over her shoulder at Amelia who is currently snuggled in close to Ataxia, her arm around his waist, his around her shoulders. He whispers something in her ear and she smiles wide, making eye contact with Tara and winking, blowing a kiss as well, for good measure.
The Nationwide Arena in Columbus is sold out to the last spot, everybody wants to be part of the special edition of Evolution and the arrival of Tara and The Forsaken's security measures has put the fans into even more of a frenzy! The CWF faithful are doing the wave in their euphoria over the upcoming show and the camera zooms over the crowd and it seems as if pretty much every fan club is in attendance, from the Flairheads over the Vassals of Artoria, the Ataxiarmy and many more.
The cameras go to the entrance to the stage, but it is empty.
Blake Church: Yoohoo, up here!
The camera moves towards the voice and sees the due of Blake Church and Charles State standing next to the cannon that is one of the trademarks of the Nationwide Arena.
Charles State: Welcome to Evolution 25!
A big cheer goes through the arena.
Blake Church: Yes, a quarter-hundred, right, Charles, shows and we are standing stronger than ever!
Charles State: Two titles on the line, one piece of important influence on the CWF, a few grudges and more, so this will be some of the most action packed non-PPV hours you will see in a long time!
Blake Church: First up we have a Fatal Fourway and unfortunately this cannon here is not fully loaded, so I can't do any target practice, sorry Jim, but I've always wanted to do this...
He takes a remote from one of the arena officials and presses the button. BOOM! The cannon goes off and officially kicks off Evolution 25!
Jim Gunt: We haven't even started with the matches and Evo 25 already has had tons of things happening! Looks like Eric Dane and Bronson Box are especially motivated today to set things straight!
Mike Rolash: And looks like Tara is in safe hands tonight, as much as I do not like The Forsaken, it is good to see that they make sure there will be no repeat of last week's outrageous scandal when Silas put that poor girl through a table! Oh and I heard that target practice thing, guys! I'm like an elephant, I will not forget this!
Blake Church: Just make sure you pack away the trunk when you're done...
Purple lights shine around the top of the ramp, fog rolling around it as the beginning lyrics of the song start to play, the tron displaying a purple outlined black raven with her name fading in over it.
“The sun is shining
Though everything’s dying
Your stars burned out for good
Somewhere in Hollywood”
Ray Douglas: The following is your opening contest! It is a Fatal 4 Way Match, scheduled for one fall! Introducing competitor number one.
As the guitar riff starts up, the purple lights start to flicker like a strobe light as Autumn slowly walks out from the back, coming to a stop at the top of the ramp. She glances out at the crowd with a smirk on her face as she starts down the ramp slowly.
Ray Douglas: From Los Angeles, California, weighing one hundred twenty pounds, she is the Beautiful Psychopath... AUTUMN RAVEN!
“What the hell,
This ain’t no way to treat the living dead
Is this something from a novel that you read
It’s time to cut the cord and say goodbye
Cause it’s the only thing that hasn’t happened yet
And when it does I wished we’d never met
I did the best I could.”
She walks around the ring, glaring at the fans sitting at ringside before sliding under the bottom rope and leaping to her feet, giving the crowd a smug smile.
“The sun is shining
But everything’s dying
Your stars burned out for good
Somewhere in Hollywood
I swear it’s only
Cos you be my lies
Guess I’m misunderstood
You were my deadlihood”
She runs to the corner turnbuckle, climbing to the second one, taunting the crowd, as she flings her arms out to the sides once again before climbing down.
Jim Gunt: Mike, Autumn is making her in ring return here tonight. But after that assault on her by her former colleague, Silas Artoria, you would have to think her attention is elsewhere.
Mike Rolash: That guy has really gotten on the bad side of a few people in the back, for his attack on Tara Robinson.
“Cowboy” by Kid Rock hits, and Billy walks down the ramp, he suddenly walks to one of the fans, at ringside with a Billy Anderson sign. He takes it from them, and rips it up as he gets a sea of boos.
Ray Douglas: Competitor number two, hailing from Rincon, Georgia, weighing in at two hundred twenty five pounds! BILLY ANDERSON!
He rolls his eyes, and laughs as he makes his way to the steel steps. He walks up them, and gets in the ring. He walks over to the turnbuckle, and climbs it. He throws his hands up in the air, and blows a kiss to the fans even though they still give him mixed reactions. He gets down, and walks the middle of the of the ring where he poses for the fans as he ignores the boos soaking in the hate he is getting.
Jim Gunt: Billy's also making his return here tonight as well. But as of late he's taken a vow of silence.
Mike Rolash: Thank the heavens...
The lights in the arena dim, as orange strobe lights move all across the venue."Smiling Faces" by Kevin Gates is blasting throughout the PA system as Duce Jones out onto the stage. The fans cheer with admiration as he stands there and surveys the crowd.
Ray Douglas: Competitor number three, from Memphis, Tennessee, weighing in at two hundred five pounds! Representing Smokin’ Aces... DUCE JONES!
He then strolls down to the ring slapping the hands of some of the fans who are sitting ringside. Duce makes it down to the ring where hops onto the apron and climbs inside the ring. He sprints to the nearest corner and climbs to the second rope and begins looking into the crowd once again. Duce climbs down from the corner, turns around, and wait for the bell to ring.
Jim Gunt: Duce along with Freddie are fresh off their win over Ouroboros! You’d have to think that he'd be looking for a victory here tonight to keep that momentum going.
Mike Rolash: It was a disqualification win, you really can't that as a victory in any book?
Lullaby guitar strumming coincides with with darkness falling.
Blue lights point to the entrance as the nature of the song changes to thrashing black metal. George McCoy's raspy screech greets Pete Whealdon, as he steps out from behind the curtain, Collar on his leather jacket up, and wearing aviator sunglasses.
Ray Douglas: The final competitor, hailing from Tokyo, Japan, weighing in at two hundred twenty eight! PETE WHEALDON!
He stalks down to the ring, pushing signs and ring crew aside, sliding under the bottom rope, circling the ring several times, dismissing his opponents and soon lounging in the corner.
Jim Gunt: Here's the newcomer in this match, making his debut last week. Defeating the Apathetic One, but he seems to not have much interest in anyone in the back.
Mike Rolash: Why should he, majority of the locker room are off their rockers. Hell, he's standing inside the ring with three wack jobs right now!
Scott Dean, the official for this contest calls for the bell, as the Columbus fans inside of the Nationwide Arena begin to stir for this contest. All four competitors size each other up, each one waiting for the other to make a move. And he does as Whealdon steps back through the ropes, dropping off the apron. Pulling a pack of cigarettes out his tights, along with a lighter. Putting one in his mouth, he sparks one up, nonchalantly telling his opponents to go for it.
Jim Gunt: And... I... I guess Whealdon’s going to take a smoke break!
Mike Rolash: Isn’t it great.
Duce steps to the ropes, questioning Whealdon about competing in the match. With a puff of smoke, he ignores Duce, carrying on about his business. The Ohio fans showing their displeasure with him, but he doesn't mind. Meanwhile Anderson also seems uninterested in competing as well, turning to leave but only catches the foot of the Beautiful Psychopath as she connects with the Claw of the Night! She quickly dives on top for the cover as Dean makes the count!
Duce is over to break the cover, stomping down on Raven’s back. Using her hair for leverage, he pulls her up to her, before nailing her across the nose with a hard headbutt! She stumbles backwards towards the ropes, Duce using the opportunity to clothesline her over them, Raven crashing hard to the floor!
Jim Gunt: Duce look set to take a dive Mike!
Mike Rolash: Indeed he is Jimbo. He's hitting the ropes!
Jim Gunt: CALF KICK BY ANDERSON, CATCHING DUCE OUT OF NOWHERE!
Jones is down on the canvas, Anderson quickly to his feet a deranged look in his eyes, as if a fire has been ignited. Anderson points at Raven who is now getting top her feet, he rushes towards the ropes, grabbing a hold of them and using them to slingshot himself onto her, taking Autumn back down. Georgia’s favorite son is back to his feet, screaming like a raging lunatic as he makes his way around ringside. Pulling at his hair like a madman, he spots Whealdon, who is still nonchalantly smoking his cigarette, and makes a beeline straight for him! Unfazed by the incoming lunatic, Whealdon calmly ducks down as Anderson approaches, flipping him over the guardrail and into the lap of some fans sitting front row!
Jim Gunt: Anderson had a bit of momentum going and just like that it's over.
Mike Rolash: Talk about unstoppable force.
Pete takes another drag off of his cigarette as he moves to a different position around ringside. Inside the ring, Duce is slowly getting to his feet as Autumn rolls inside herself. Using the ropes for leverage, she is fully upright, but the Kid That Never Dies is right at her with a forearm strike to the face! She leans off the ropes, coming back with a boot of her own creating some space between her and Jones. Stumbling backwards, Jones is able to gather his balance, catching her foot after she attempts to kick him again. This proves to be the set up she needs, leaping up and catching Duce across the ear with an ENZIGUIRI! Jones drops to the mat as Raven makes her way towards a corner, quickly climbing to the top rope and leaps off for a swanton bomb!
Jim Gunt: AUTUMN JUST CONNECTED WITH THE ANTI-HERO! SHE'S GOING FOR A PIN!
Mike Rolash: Whealdon’s making his move!
The count is broken as this time, Whealdon stomps on the back of Raven. Yanking her up, by her shirt and tights, Pete tosses Autumn through the ropes, now setting his sights on Jones. Before he can advance on Duce, Billy comes sliding inside of the ring clobbering away at Pete. Trying his best to cover up, Whealdon is backed into a corner as lunatic unleashes on him. Anderson soon grabs Pete by the arm, whips him towards the opposite corner, following him up for with a clothesline! Grabbing him by around the neck with a headlock, Billy goes for a bulldog! Taking a running start with Pete, Billy is forced to release his grip as Duce catches him under the chin with a Bicycle Knee Strike! Billy slumps to the mat releasing his hold on Pete, Duce turns his attention to Pete, pulling him up by his hair and throwing him outside the ring!
Duce soon goes back to Anderson attempting a pin!
Jim Gunt: Autumn with the save!
A banshee scream echoes throughout the Nationwide Arena, as Raven pick Jones up, slapping him hard across the face! The impact sends Duce reeling back, looking to take advantage. On the outside, Whealdon look to have recovered and has had enough of this match. Taking out another cigarette and lighting it as he makes way towards the back.
Jim Gunt: I guess Pete Whealdon is going to hit the showers early.
Mike Rolash: Who can blame em. He shouldn't be associated with the trash in the ring.
Back inside the ring, Autumn slaps Duce once more, but is suddenly caught by surprise with an elbow to the face courtesy of Billy Anderson. She shakes it off, coming back with a forearm of her own that staggers the Hall of Famer. He fires back and two of them exchange forearms back and forth! The exchange bringing the fans to their feet. Autumn blast Anderson one final time, the strike sending him stumbling backwards and almost tumbling through the ropes. Somehow though, he maintain his balance, coming back on nailing a huge lariat that turns the Beautiful Psychopath inside out! Billy stumbles to his feet amped up but is caught off guard by a charging Duce, KRAYZED KNEE! HE HOOKS THE LEG!
Ray Douglas: Here is your winner, by pinfall! DUCE JONES!
Official Scott Dean raises Duce Jones’ hand in victory, as the fans inside of Nationwide Arena gives him a nice ovation.
Jim Gunt: Duce able to pull out the win here tonight. You know he's got to be hyped heading towards Summer Games three weeks from now.
Mike Rolash: The only real competition he had here tonight bailed on the match. And I for one do not blame him.
The big screen lights up, showing black and white footage from backstage. J. Rish sits behind his desk in his office. Suddenly, the door slams open and Elisha steps through. He takes a spare chair, pulls it over to Rish's desk. He sits, puts his feet up on the desk, waves hello.
Elisha: Guten Abend, Herr Rish! And how are you on this fine evening?
Rish: Fuck off.
Elisha: Now now. That's no way to talk to one of your oldest stars - allies even. I do wish you good luck in your fight against Ataxia tonight. May the worst man win, eh?
Rish: What do you want, Elisha?
Elisha: I want you to make a match. Right here, right now. That insipid fool Zach, would-be hero of the unwashed masses. Against the Amoral Prophetess, Cassandra. Do we have a deal?
Rish shuffles in his seat.
Rish: I, um….
Elisha leans in.
Elisha: You know who I am. You know what I represent. The Institute could destroy or consume this company in a heartbeat. You are here at my discretion.
The monkey will dance for the organ grinder. I will say again: Cassandra versus Zach. Yes?
Rish pauses, finally answering through gritted teeth.
Elisha smirks, marches out of the room. As he leaves, he fails to hear Rish whispering under his breath.
Pete Whealdon stands covered in post-match sweat, leaning against a wall.
Directly outside of Eric Dane’s Locker Room.
He has his sunglasses back on. He is smoking a cigarette. His breathing shows the labor of work. As is his style, a single foot also rests against the wall, foreigner style. His hair pulled back around the crown, letting the rest of his locks hang sweat spaghetti limp around his shoulders.
Pete Whealdon: Here’s the thing. And I want you to pay attention.
Looking directly at the camera through those reflective eyes, you can see the orb of glass transmitting this back to you.
Pete Whealdon: I’ve already gotten under the skin of... Some of the lesser elements in the CWF.
Pete Whealdon: But it is pretty apparent if you can connect the dots. That a lot of change has come to the CWF very recently.
That knowing nod.
Pete Whealdon: Take a look around, you have Ouroboros, you got the Forsaken. They are a certain echelon of wrestler.
What is happening here now. CWF hasn’t seen before. This cult nonsense, this middle aughts two-thousand team hot topic nonsense is coming to end. This bad Saturday morning Castle Grayskull garbage stops at Summer Games.
This is a new echelon of wrestling.
You might call it a shift in the paradigm.
Perhaps worst of all, the curling of the outside lip into a cold half-smile.
Eric Dane’s door cracks open.
Before anyone can step out. Whealdon grabs the knob and speaks through the door.
Pete Whealdon: Me and you.
We need to chat.
Jim Gunt: Looks like Eric Dane's posse is growing with Pete Whealdon, despite his cowardly escape from the Fatal Fourway, seemingly having joined his ranks, but it looks as if Elisha's hold over Rish is still not over!
Mike Rolash: Yes, and he seems to have it in for Zach, ever since Paradise they've been haunting him...
The familiar music of the owner of the Championship Wrestling Federation, Justin Rishel, begins to play as the man himself strides down towards the ring, by no means looking pleased or excited. He is quick to retrieve a microphone and take centre stage in the ring.
Justin Rishel: Alright. Cut my music. I really hate to do this, especially considering everything the kid's gone through but…I have to make this match…Happening right now, in this very ring…Zach will be going one on one against…
Jim Gunt: The poor kid. He’s gone through so much, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to end.
Mike Rolash: Who? Damnit boss man, who is he facing?!
Justin Rishel: The Prophetess of Ouroboros…Cassandra!
There is a massive outcry at the announcement and Justin Rishel motions for Ray Douglas to make the appropriate introductions.
Jim Gunt: Oh Come On! Zach is clearly still dealing with the effects of their attack on him at Paradise. What kind of torture is this?
Mike Rolash: Don’t forget, Elisha’s been calling the shot for a while now. This makes perfect sense.
J.Rish turns to Ray Douglas and motions for him to get underway.
Ray Douglas: Introducing first. Weighing in at 174lbs, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania…ZACH!!
Jim Gunt: This is just…Vile…Evil…just. God. Hasn’t Zach suffered enough?!
Looking more nervous and panicky then usual Zach is pushed onto the stage by CWF stage hands and security as his music, “Blow Me Away” by Breaking Benjamin begins to play. He looks back but is barred retreat and sighs in defeat. Zach slowly walks down towards the ring, unmoved by the thunderous roars of support and approval from the crowd. Even J.Rish and Ray Douglas seem sympathetic. Finally the young man from Philly enters the ring, the shaking in his hands gradually returning.
Ray Douglas: And his opponent…weighing in at 175lbs, hailing from the Epicentre…Cass-
Slowly Ouroboros begin to filter out onto the stage, eagerly awaiting the announcement. Zach visibly goes pale.
Justin Rishel: No. Wait. Fuck this. I can’t keep doing this. I may be sharing some of my authority later tonight but god damnit this is still my show. Zach’s opponent will NOT be Cassandra. So go ahead and stick it Moonchild.
Ouroboros collectively turn to face their leader, if looks could kill Elisha would have murdered Justin Rishel several times over in that moment.
Justin Rishel: Security get them out of here, and if anyone of them so steps a foot near this ring outside of a sanctioned match. It will cost them their jobs.
Elisha unleashes a tirade of growls and vicious unheard comments as he and the stable are motioned back behind the curtain. Everyone knew they promised retribution.
Justin Rishel: Instead I think tonight Zach’s opponent will be a guy I know is back there and raring to go, making his debut tonight in THIS VERY RING. Zach’s opponent tonight will be The Trickster, Alex Rain!
Jim Gunt: That’s going to piss some people off.
Mike Rolash: Wait…Did J.Rish just grow some balls?
Jim Gunt: It appears so.
A semblance of order is restored in the ring. Zach looks lost, confused and anxious while J.Rush makes his exit to allow Ray Douglas the chance to do his thing.
Ray Douglas: Ahem…His opponent, weighing in at 173lbs, from London, England…Alex Rain!
Jim Gunt: Yeah boy! This is about to get Epic.
Mike Rolash: I hate seeing you happy and excited.
Zach breathes a deep sigh of relief, but still seems nervous and shaky, as Theory of a Deadman’s "World War Me" plays through the speakers and Alex walks out. Grinning he strides down the ramp, pointing out select members of the crowd with the cane in his right hand and sharing some light-hearted laughter. From the apron and into the ring he blows kisses to the crowd at large then readies himself for the match.
Mike Rolash: You know anything about this clown?
Jim Gunt: Not much as of yet, but we’re all going to learn more about this Alex Rain, first-hand tonight!
The bell rings and the two competitors meet in the centre of the ring, Zach flinching as Alex extends his hand, but realises it is for a simple hand shake. Which is accepted tentatively. In response Alex Rain boops the young Philly native on the nose, making a ‘honking’ sound and breaking out into laughter. It doesn’t last though when the Trickster realises Zach has not joined in.
Jim and Mike: What the…
Alex Rain gently bops Zach on the chin, urging him to perk up, then ruffles his hair. Thoroughly confused by this point Zach pushes the Trickster away, even taking time to unscuff his hair. Alex sighs a deep and over exaggerated sigh, accompanied by a shrug, before motioning for his opponent to get down to business.
Jim Gunt: I’m not sure what the heck just happened…
Mike Rolash: Is this a wrestling match or child-care?
Finally the nonsense stops and the two, some-what evenly matched, competitors lock-up in the centre of the ring. Alex gains the upper hand, swinging around behind Zach and taking him to the mat with a back side slam. Alex Rain follows up with the most devastating of moves…the wet willy!
Mike Rolash: Tell me when this guy decides to take things seriously. This is just bullshit.
Jim Gunt: Actually…this may very well be the perfect chance for Zach to get out of his funk and just have fun in the ring…
Mike Rolash: Who Cares!
Zach fights the Trickster off with a mad flurry of swipes and slaps, keeping the jovial Englishman at bay, and rolls out onto the apron. Alex Rain closes in and at first gets a forearm to the face, then a rope assisted jumping kick. The Trickster is stunned and stumbles away. Zach tenses up and looks primed to perform one of the high-flying springboard moves he was known for as Impakt.
Jim Gunt: That’s it kid. Fly!
But he loses his nerve at the last second and decides to simply climb back into the ring. For his trouble Zach is met by a dropkick from Alex Rain and the Philadelphian youngster tumbles out of the ring and to the outside.
Mike Rolash: Is it over yet?
Jim Gunt: You’re seriously not watching?
Mike Rolash: Nah I got pornhub going on my phone.
Jim Gunt: Jesus Christ!
Unfortunately for Zach, Alex Rain has no such qualms or hesitations in taking to the air and builds up steam by charging off of the ropes, diving THROUGH the opposing set of top and middle ropes, with a picture-perfect suicide dive.
Jim Gunt: Jokes aside, Alex Rain has got some talent.
Call it luck, call it instinct but in those precious few seconds Zach has as Alex Rain comes down upon him with the dive, the former Impakt reacts, calling forth his lightning quick reflexes and catches the Trickster IN MID-AIR with the Combo Breaker superkick. A counter that clearly drains the Philadelphian of his energy as both men lay collapsed on the floor at ringside.
Mike Rolash: What. What was that?
Jim Gunt: There are still signs of Life in Zach yet! There is still hope!
Mike Rolash: Well I’ll be…
Referee Clark Summits reaches the count of 6 before Zach, also completely surprised at what he accomplished, makes it back to his feet and rolls Alex Rain back into the ring. At the behest of a VERY vocal audience Zach is also quickly back into the ring and hooking the leg of his opponent tor a pin attempt.
Alex Rain kicks out!
Zach seems shocked and disappointed that he wasn’t able to claim victory then and there. However, things for him go from bad to worse in an instant. A form in the audience leaps over the security barrier and advances to confront Zach who is resting in dismay, draped over the bottom rope.
Mike Rolash: Ok, NOW it’s getting interesting.
Jim Gunt: Oh for fuck's sake. That’s Xander Haze. Someone get him out of here!
Xander produces something small, dark and fine, practically impossible to see, from his pocket. Holding the object between his thumb and forefinger he raises it in front of Zach’s face.
Jim Gunt: Is that…HAIR?
It takes Zach a moment to register what is happening, but when he realises the implications of the strands of hair that Xander now holds before him, his expression changes in an instant to one of pure unmitigated hatred and rage. If possible he would probably be growing and turning green right now. Xander gives him the old fashioned, universally known symbol of the middle finger.
Mike Rolash: This Xander guy is just so…despicable. I love it!
Jim Gunt: You would!
Zach gives to chase to Xander, who makes for his retreat, however the Gimp is only able to partially scale back over the security rail, and back into the crowd, before Zach is upon him, grabbing him from behind by the hair and throwing him back to the ringside area. Xander begins to back away, not so much in apprehension or fear of Zach, but more to readies himself for the inevitable fight that is about to take place, one that was denied him last week because of Zach’s restraint.
Jim Gunt: Oh Thank God! Xander is about to get exactly what he deserves.
Mike Rolash: No damnit! Look behind you!
What Xander Haze is not accounting for however is the presence of the Trickster, Alex Rain, who is most nonplussed about having the match interrupted and stands in place to bar Xander. The Gimp stops in his tracks as he backs into the Trickster, slowly turning around to investigate the sudden obstruction. Alex blows a raspberry in Xander’s face, and in that split second of distraction Zach pounces, turning the Gimp back around and executing a Reverse STO. By this stage the referee feels the only thing he can do is call the match a No Contest.
Ray Douglas: This match has been declared a No Contest due to outside interference.
But despite this both Alex and Zach share a respectful smile and hand clasp of acknowledgement. Alex leaves Zach to admire his handiwork of the fallen Xander before he too begins to ascend back up the ramp.
Xander Haze: Hold it right there you pathetic piece of shit!
Jim Gunt: Who gave him a microphone?!
Zach turns back around, his former nerves nowhere to be seen, and in their place the angered readiness to go at Xander once again.
Xander Haze: This ain’t over yet kid. You wanted this, so it’s time to grow some balls and step up to the line. You wanna save your little English girlie, then face me at Summer Games!
The two rivals stare daggers into one another. There is no need for words, Zach accepts with a simple resolute nod of his head.
Jim Gunt: I hope Zach knows what he’s getting involved in.
Xander Haze: And don’t you worry. John and I are gonna make it real fun for you and your little sweetheart.
Mike Rolash: Even if he doesn’t, it’s sure gonna be one exciting match up.
Alex Rain is there, talking Zach down, holding him back, as Xander mic drops with a sickening snarl upon his face.
We cut backstage to MJ Flair sitting on the ground, stretching, ahead of her World Title match. Her eyes are closed in concentration, but they suddenly open at the sound of footsteps. She looks to her left, and shakes her head in disappointment, simultaneous with a roll of her eyes. Panning to the left, we can see why: Choronzon, leader of the Chosen, stands over her.
Choronzon: Miss Flair.
As if to realize her vulnerable position, MJ leans back and kips up to her feet, looking up into Choronzon's eyes.
MJF: The fuck do you want?
Choronzon clucks his tongue.
Choronzon: Now now, is that any way to talk to someone who’s simply come to offer you something?
MJF: You've got nothing I want. Fuck outta here.
A scowl flits across Choronzon’s face, but he composes himself back to a smirk quickly enough. He reaches into his pocket and throws a packet of Oreos down.
Choronzon: Consider this a peace offering. You mention Oreos so very much; it simply must be a communication of hunger rather than a gross insult to a powerful organization.
MJ doesn't flinch.
MJF: Don't tease the monsters, huh? Fuck you; we're the monster slayers. You don't scare me, you don't intimidate me, and you sure as shit can't control me.
Choronzon: As I expected.
MJF: Ya don't seem too cut up about it.
Choronzon: Not really. I just wanted you to face me so she could get behind you.
MJ turns around and is immediately clocked in the face. She crumbles to the ground, as blood wells up on the side of her face, far too close to her eye. Jezebel stands over her, brass knuckles wrapped around her left hand, and her quiet chuckles are almost drowned out by the boos coming from the fans all the way out in the arena.
Choronzon: Don’t disrespect us, Miss Flair. It won’t end well for you.
The two Chosen walk off, leaving a furious MJ Flair holding her hand to the side of her face.
MJF: Save it for the ring, MJ... they're not worth it.
She pulls her hand away and looks at the blood on her palm.
MJF: The hell they ain't.
Jim Gunt: Now I must say that I am actually surprised that Choronzon does seem to have some humour with those Oreo cookies, but it looks as if MJ is getting into ever deeper problems with the Ouroboros.
Mike Rolash: That's why you just hold still and don't move and nothing will happen.
“My Dick” by Mickey Avalon begins to play over the speaker system and Dick Fury saunters out from behind the curtain, his hands in the air as the spotlights shine over him. He slowly pulls his hands from the air onto his perfectly hairy chest, curling up his chest hair just a little bit before rubbing all the way up his chest. The fans boo this eccentric display but Fury will have none of it….
Ray Douglas: Making his way from from Hollywood, California….DICK FURY!!
Jim Gunt: This should be an interesting match up here as these two men couldn't be more opposite of the other.
Mike Rolash: It'll just be interesting to see who can break their losing streak.
Jim Gunt: Well, that's just wrong.
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 as he walks to the ring with his head bent down with a hint of his head bobbing to the beat.
Ray Douglas: His opponent.... AZRAELLLL!!!!
Azrael rolls into the ring as he reaches it. Fury just watches from the opposite corner. Finally a few moments later the bell sounds to begin the match and the two men head to the center of the ring.
Jim Gunt: The match is underway as they lock up. Fury taking control early, pushing Azrael back and into the ropes.
Using the ropes for momentum, Dick pulls Azrael's left arm into a whip.
Jim Gunt: Whip... no reversed. Dick Fury sent across the ring.
As Dick hits the ropes and returns, Azrael runs.
Jim Gunt: Azrael with a high knee that connects!
Dick is sent over his knee and hits the mat.
Jim Gunt: Azrael in control early on here at Evolution.
Azrael pulls Dick up by his head. As Dick rises, he reaches out, grabbing Azrael's legs and yanking back, taking him off of his feet.
Jim Gunt: Fury able to counter, putting Azrael on his back and slowing down his offense.
Azrael quickly rolls over and pushes his way back to his feet.
Mike Rolash: Yea, he sure slowed him down.
Jim Gunt: Both men with a nod to each other as they circle and lock up once again.
Immediately Fury gains the upper hand once more, putting Azrael into a side head lock.
Jim Gunt: Fury showing that experience of his once again.
Dick Fury wrenches on Azrael before he moves him toward the ropes yet again. Before sending him off, he grinds a little into Azrael's legs.
Jim Gunt: Irish whip by Fury, no.. REVERSAL AGAIN! Dick Fury on the return ducks a clothesline.
Mike Rolash: Azrael said he was coming to beat Dick in front of all the kids out there, and that is what he's doing! He's beating Dick all over the ring.
Fury hits the ropes on the other side of the ring now. As he returns Azrael falls to his back and lifts Fury up into the air, sending him down to the canvas.
Jim Gunt: Azrael showing how quick he is to make a decision and it paid off, using his leg strength to send Fury to the canvas.
Both men roll over and get to their feet. Fury steps toward Azrael, who grabs Fury's arm and sends him into the nearby corner.
Jim Gunt: Fury in the corner now.
Mike Rolash: If I was him, I'd just walk away now. Fury is the type of guy that strikes me as he would forcefully take you before trying to pin you.
Jim Gunt: Oh come on now.
Azrael makes his way to the corner of the ring.
Jim Gunt: Azrael grabbing the head of Dick Fury... snapmare, taking Fury over to the canvas.
Azrael then follows up by grabbing Fury around the back of the head with a reverse chin lock.
Jim Gunt: Reverse chin lock by Azrael. Wonderful placement here by Azrael, with Fury stuck in the center of the ring, with nowhere to go.
Azrael wrenches back on Fury’s head, Fury wincing from the pain. The ref gets down and checks on Fury, who shakes his head No. Fury then slowly begins to get to his feet, one foot at a time and elbows Azrael in the gut twice, before whipping Azrael into the ropes.
Jim Gunt: Fury out of the hold, sending Azrael into the ropes.
As Azrael returns, he kicks Fury in the gut, causing him to bend over. Azrael then hooks his arms DDTing him to the mat.
Jim Gunt: Impressive DDT by Azrael.
Mike Rolash: Lucky strike is all.
Azrael then covers Fury, going for the pin. The referee drops down to go for the count.
Jim Gunt: We’ve got a quick pin, this thing could be over! No! Kickout at two by Dick Fury.
He gets up, frustrated, then quickly reaches down, lifting Fury's legs and placing him in a Boston crab.
Jim Gunt: Submission move here by Azrael, but Dick Fury is too close to the ropes!
Fury reaches out and grabs the bottom rope, and the referee immediately steps in to break the hold. He begins to count. Azrael finally breaks the hold. Azrael quickly drags Fury by the leg and goes for another pin in the center of the ring.
Jim Gunt: Another pin by Azrael... and yet another kickout by Dick Fury.
Mike Rolash: He sure is slippery.
Frustrated Azrael pushes down Fury’ raised shoulder and goes for another pin, yelling at the ref.
Jim Gunt: Yet another and a kickout at one. Frustration building in Azrael.
Azrael gets up begins to ask the referee why he is counting slowly. Behind him Dick pushes up and waits. As Azrael turns around, Dick comes forward, raising his arm directly up, catching Azrael in the jaw.
Jim Gunt: Massive uppercut by Dick Fury! Azrael should pay more attention to the man in the ring than the referee. That could have cost him his momentum.
Mike Rolash: Smart thinking by the champ!
Fury shakes his head to get the cobwebs out and then goes to Azrael, pulling him to his feet. Dick begins to deliver a series of rights.
Jim Gunt: Fury unloading on Azrael.
Mike Rolash: Dick is always unloading on someone!
Azrael stumbles away from Fury to the other side of the ring. Dick follows him, then tosses Azrael into the ropes. As Azrael returns Fury charges him and jumps in the air knocking him to the mat with a running shoulder block.
Jim Gunt: Running shoulder block by Fury.
Dick quickly leaps over, mounting Azrael, and begins punching him.
Jim Gunt: Dick Fury giving Azrael a taste of his own medicine with those vicious mounted punches!
Mike Rolash: He looks a bit too comfortable straddling another guy.
Azrael tries to block the punches. Using his right arm, he moves it up and under the throat of Dick and pushes back. The fans, who can not make up their mind who to support scream for both.
Jim Gunt: Azrael fighting back now.
He continues to push Dick back, bringing his left fist around and clocking Fury in the side of the head. Dick's upper body moves up and he falls over to the mat.
Jim Gunt: Azrael able to get Dick Fury off of him.
Azrael rolls over on top of Dick, mounting him, and begins to return the favor with a series of rights and lefts.
Jim Gunt: Azrael now showing those skills. These two men are giving it their all tonight!
Azrael stops, and begins to stand up over Fury. Once up, he reaches down and grabs Dick by his head, pulling him up to his feet.
Jim Gunt: Dick Fury pulled to his feet. Forearm shot to the face by Azrael, another!
Dick stumbles back, his arms flailing as he tries to keep his balance.
Jim Gunt: Azrael runs... CLOTHESLINE!
Azrael leaps over Dick and runs to the ropes. As he bounces off, using them for momentum and approaches Fury, leaping up with his leg extended.
Jim Gunt: Big leg drop by Azrael!
Mike Rolash: It can't end like this!
Jim Gunt: Azrael over and into a pin.. he hooks the leg of Dick Fury!
The referee quickly slides into position and raises his hand to begin the count. The fans count along with him.
Jim Gunt: KICKOUT! KICKOUT! Dick Fury KICKS OUT!
Mike Rolash: YES!
Azrael's eyes grow huge as he is now on his knees near Dick.
Jim Gunt: Dick Fury taking Azrael to school tonight.
Azrael gets to his feet and looks down at Dick, his hands on his hips.
Jim Gunt: I think Azrael is amazed at the passion that keeps Dick Fury kicking.
Mike Rolash: His stamina is outstanding.
Dick begins to push his way up. Azrael quickly heads toward him, grabbing his head as he is halfway up.
Jim Gunt: Fury with a couple of shots to the midsection.
Fury follows with a quick thumb to the eye of Azrael causing him to release his grip. He grabs his eyes and stumbles backward.
Jim Gunt: Come on now. How did the referee not see that?
Mike Rolash: Azrael just took a Dick to the eye!
As Mike Rolash begins to laugh at his own joke, Dick quickly he moves into action.
Jim Gunt: Fury taking advantage.
Dick quickly wraps his arms around the waist of Azrael. He thrust his hips before lifting up and falling backward into an arching pin.
Jim Gunt: Belly-to-back suplex into a pin! The referee drops!
He begins to count, hitting the three. The bell starts to sound.
Ray Douglas: The winner of this match via pin fall.... DICK.... FUUURRYYYY!!!!
Jim Gunt: Azrael was no pushover tonight, but in the end Dick brings home the victory.
The official tries to raise Dick's arm in victory, he just pulls it away and heads to exit the ring.
Somewhere backstage at the Nationwide Arena in Columbus. Alistair McLean is apparently trying to find a particular door, going with the little note in his hand and his head swiveling from door to door, reading the signs. Finally he seems to have found the door he was looking for. He takes a deep breath and mutters.
Alastair McLean: Alrecht, lest week did nae gang weel. Box was an erse, sae much fur scots standin' together. Whit a feckin' divit!
He raises his hand to knock, but hesitates.
Alastair McLean: Calm doon, Alastair! It's Andy Murray, th' Andy Murray, jist a normal bloke...ain hopefully nae anither divit…
He hangs his head before taking another deep breath.
Alastair McLean: Och, fa am Ah kiddin', it's Andy Murray, fur god's sakes!
He raises his hand again and knocks. After a few seconds the door opens and...
There stands ‘The King Of Wrestling,’ seen backstage on CWF television for the first time in 15 years.
Andy Murray: Aye?
The CWF Heavyweight Championship number one contender is already dressed for action. The boots & tights are on, and there’s a black t-shirt emblazoned with an old-school Championship Wrestling Federation logo below his open black and gold track jacket. The black/grey salt and pepper hair’s combed back, the look in his eyes is one of cautious curiosity, and his tone is guarded.
Andy Murray: Ah, yes. McLean.
He recognises his countryman, and pauses, giving him an opportunity to speak. Alastair doesn’t take said opportunity.
Andy Murray: … this is the part where you talk, mate.
Alastair McLean: Och, Mr. Murray, Ah cannae believe Ah am standin' haur! Ah hae bin a huge fan fur a lang time, a body ay mah Scottish heroes! Ah hae sae mony things eh'd loch tae say, but cannae... sorry aam talkin' an' talkin'...
Andy Murray: Well, that’s a relief. A knock on the door usually means trouble in this business…
Murray extends a hand.
Andy Murray: Shake these nerves away.
McLean does, eagerly.
Andy Murray: Appreciate the props, and sorry you had to run into Hollis last week. He’s a tad… ornery, shall we say. I’ve known that guy 25 years, and trust me, he’s always been a grump.
Alistair McLean: Thenk ye sae much Mr. Murray, Ah feel sae honoored yoo're e'en jist talkin' tae me, lit aloyn knowin' mah nam!
Andy Murray: Brother, relax.
‘The King’ puts a hand up.
Andy Murray: I can’t lie, I enjoy the free ego message, but we’re roster-mates now. There’s no dividing line here. As far as I’m concerned, we’re on just about the same level… so long as you don’t turn out to be a stealth arsehole and try to punch me in the face after all this, of course.
Alistair McLean: Aaah, aam gushin' loch a lassie, while ye hae mair important things tae dae. Thenk ye sae much again an' ye ur a true scot! Alba gu bràth!
With that, McLean is gone. Murray watches him scurry down the corridor.
Andy Murray: Weird guy.
He shakes his head.
Andy Murray: Friendly enough, but weird.
Mike Rolash: That went better than last week for McLean!
Jim Gunt: Yes, it very clearly shows the difference between a former champion and legend in Andy Murray and a bully such as Bronson Box.
Mike Rolash: Reminds me of my partner here...
Jim Gunt: Hi pot, I'm black kettle... Anyways, what an announcement, though, End Games at Summer Games and it will be epic, The Forsaken against Ouroboros, months of mounting tensions will come to a blow in a cage!
Mike Rolash: And the next match could hardly be any more different as well, with Silas Artoria meeting Omega, even though the little Miss O has shown a far fiercer side than usual of late, but will it be enough to go against the erupting madness of the Canadian?
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.
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.
Ray Douglas: Coming down the aisle. From the Academy. At five foot ten, one hundred seventy five pounds. A founder of the Insurgency and CWF legend...one and all...OMEGA!
“Dark Dreams Don't Die” blares over the loud speakers as Omegas gets settled in the ring. The lights turn down low and are replaced by deep blue spotlights, which bathe the stage in a regal hue and a figure comes out, fog swirling around him.
Silas Artoria spins slowly around and saunters toward the ring, completely ignoring the fact that Ray Douglas is talking about him.
Ray Douglas: ...ian Reaper! SILAS ARTORIA!
Silas hops up onto apron lightly and waves off Omega who is calmly standing on her side of the ring. The Psychotic Aristocrat spins slowly on the spot, soaking in the…
Mike Rolash: Yeesh, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard this much intense dislike for someone before.
Jim Gunt: No kidding. Holy crap!
The fans in Columbus show Silas just what they think of him as the only thing that can be heard throughout the entire state of Ohio at this point are the boos of each and every CWF fan in attendance at Evolution 25. The Aristocrat only smirks, shrugs, and gets ready for the match as the bell is rung and the match is under way!
Silas looks to take the early advantage by ducking under a grapple attempt by Omega, and grabbing her by the waist! He lifts up Lady O and slams her down hard on the mat!
Jim Gunt: Yikes! Silas is definitely showing a new aggressive streak in recent weeks!
Mike Rolash: No kidding! The only thing more aggressive is his persistent losing streak!
Silas quickly transitions to a front headlock to try and slow down Omega who is able to get to her knees and showing amazing fortitude of her own is able to lift up Artoria and throw him off her! Silas lands on his feet, yet stumbles backward and Omega looks to press the advantage but The Aristocrat is able to get an elbow up in Omega’s face just in time! Omega stumbles backward and Silas snarls quickly hooking Omega’s head once again in a front headlock, but spinning around and taking down The Princess with a vicious neckbreaker!
Mike Rolash: Looks like Omega won’t have to worry about seeing a chiropractor in the near future.
Jim Gunt: Or maybe all the more reason to go see one, have you ever seen a more vic…
Gunt doesn’t have time to finish his sentence as Silas goes to make the cover only for Omega to roll him up in a school boy pin!
Silas is able to kick out and rolls to the closest corner as quick as he can as Omega is quick to pursue him, rubbing out any knots in her neck as she goes. The Aristocrat stands up but this time Omega is able to catch him by surprise with a dropkick right to his chest! Lady O lands and quickly follows it up with a second dropkick, aiming to drill a hole right through Silas’ chest!
Mike Rolash: Wow! Talk about an imprint! Silas won’t forget about that lasting impression.
Jim Gunt doesn’t get a chance to respond as Omega looks to deliver another dropkick, but Silas explodes out of the ring and catches her off guard with an enzuigiri! Omega is stunned and stumbles backward as Silas tries to catch his breath, grabbing his chest and looking at his prey furiously. With stunning speed Silas leaps from his crouched position and leaps on Omega, bringing her down to the mat with a Lou Thesz press and delivering blow after blow to Lady O!
Jim Gunt: Silas has snapped! He better watch to ensure he doesn’t get DQed!
Mike Rolash: Omega should know at this point you just don’t mess with someone as desperate for a win as Silas is!
As if he heard them Silas stands up and roars to the crowd, soaking in their tumultuous jeers. Omega gets checked on by the ref, only for her to wave him off and roll to her chest, facing Silas’s back. Her eyes narrow, she crouches, and she pounces on Silas’ back! Like a spider monkey after a shiny object, Omega quickly wraps herself around The Aristocrat’s back and makes him fall backward into a rear naked choke! Silas fades quickly and his arm is raised…
Only for it to fall limply to his side. Omega applies more pressure as the ref raises his arm again, only for it to fall again. The crowd all sit forward in anticipation as the ref raises Silas’ arm for a third time and…
It stays up much to everyone’s displeasure!
Jim Gunt: Wow! The fans in Columbus have NO love for Silas tonight do they?
Mike Rolash: They’re just jealous of Silas’ swagger, I mean look at him!
Jim Gunt: Yeah, just look at him…
Rolash whips his head to the ring as Silas manages to stand up and without wasting breath he back pedals and rams Omega right into the closest turnbuckle! She releases the hold and Silas gets to the middle of the ring before he turns to press his advantage only for Omega to once again being on top of him, launching herself at him and taking him down with a beautiful tornado DDT! She doesn’t stop there and runs to the closest set of ropes hopping up onto the top one and…
Jim Gunt: A picture perfect springboard moonsault!
Mike Rolash just looks dumbfounded at the action in the ring as he mouths “Mama Mia…”
Omega makes the cover…
Mike Rolash: Holy flugelhorns!
Jim Gunt: NO!
At the very last second Silas manages to get his shoulder up. Lady O doesn’t give into frustration though as she pops up and before anyone else can say anything, before Silas can realize what’s going on, she is on top of the turnbuckle and leaping off at him with a flawless 450 splash!
Jim Gunt: THE DRAGONFLY!
Mike Rolash: Good night Silas!
Omega lands on top of Silas with a crash and stays put to make the cover.
The ref calls for the bell and Omega’s hand is raised in victory!
Ray Douglas: And the winner is - OMEGA!
Silas doesn’t have a chance to recover as his attentions are snagged by the arrival of The Shadow, who watches Dorian and Ataxia set up a table at the top of the stage. Two druids appear, one on either side of Tara Robinson, who is standing off to the side, a curious look on her face. Ataxia sprays something onto the table and takes out two sticks from his jacket pocket. The Shadow motions for him to get ready, which he does by setting his sticks up on the table, ready to try and start a fire.
Silas’ face turns red as he grabs a mic from the closest ring attendant who is brave enough to hand him one.
Silas Artoria: You...you have some nerve storming out here place a blinding cover over this match, don’t you?
He spits to the side.
Silas Artoria: Can’t have a night without you hogging for attention?
???: Nah, they did that because I said, ‘please.’ It’s called manners Silas, look into it.
The Aristocrat whips around and comes face to face with Amelia! He doesn’t have a chance to do much before The Forsaken Psychotic continues.
Amelia: I hear you get your jollies off by putting women through tables Silas. Is that true? Well… As it turns out I brought my own table. I also bring experience… To the table. Your ‘not so lost boy’ Samwise put me through one at Golden Intentions. So… There’s that. What’s wrong Silas? Don’t ya’ want to put me through a table? DO YA?!
Amelia takes a step toward Silas with every high pitched word she says, twitching her head this way and that to make it look like… Well, it looked weird. He comes nose to nose with her, and exhales a “humph.” He rolls out of the ring and makes his way towards the back exit. Amelia is too quick for him though and drags him by his hair, whipping him back into the ring! Not one to go lightly, Silas hops back up and nails Amelia in the head with the mic he is still clutching! Amelia staggers back and into the ropes and Silas gets a running start, lariating Amelia to the floor outside!
The two tumble to the floor and everyone at the top of the ramp look on. Not one member of The Forsaken jump in to help Amelia, they all watch as Silas dusts himself as he stands her up and grabs The Forsaken Psychotic in a side headlock! He bites his inner lip hard as he drags her up the ramp, making it to the table, evil intentions in his mind before Amelia elbows him hard in the ribs!
Silas breaks his headlock, enraged and runs at Amelia who only smiles and grabs him in a quick bearhug and uses Silas’ own momentum against him, slamming him down onto the steel with a belly to belly suplex! Amelia jumps up and gives Silas a slight bow of the head, thanking him for getting them partially up to the table, which Ataxia is now rubbing the sticks together rapidly, trying to spark up a flame on top of the table. Amelia laughs and they all look bemused as Ataxia just tosses the sticks on top of the table and ignites the fuel with a lighter and hairspray he pulls from somewhere deep within his overcoat. The flames climb higher as Silas once again wrestles away from Amelia’s grip and pushes her back toward the flaming table! He runs at her and she pops him up on her shoulders, rotating him around and slamming him through the table with a pop up powerbomb!!
The fire goes out around Silas, who isn’t moving too much. Amelia stumbles back into one of the crowd barricades, quickly hopping away from the arms that are reaching out to touch her. She elects to sit in the middle of the ramp instead and beckons for a mic, which is brought to her.
Amelia: Silas, my friend… I hereby challenge you to a duel! Of sorts. I’ll let you pick the when, however I feel like at this point in our relationship, we need something… Table-y. Let me know when you’re free. You, me and the voices in my head, tables match.
Now maybe you should learn your place and go make me a sandwich once you’re done cleaning up that mess.
With that Amelia spins as she stands up. She pulls a cloth from the front of her dress and tosses it on top of Silas as she marches toward the back, followed by the rest of The Forsaken, the druids, and finally, an elated Tara Robinson.
Silas’ hand slowly reaches for the torn off fragment, and grips it hard. He pulls it down slowly, revealing one red eye and a seething expression.
Jim Gunt: Wow, just wow! This was a demonstration!
Mike Rolash: Almost an execution, but looks like Tara enjoyed seeing Silas going through the same she had to go through!
Jim Gunt: Sometimes extreme situations demand extreme measures and the Forsaken really stood strong here!
Mike Rolash: I have a feeling that this story is not over yet...
Jim Gunt: Doubtful, especially since Silas is known to hold grudges... But we have something special coming up, take it away, Ray!
Ray Douglas: The following contest is scheduled for one fall...and it is for “The Paramount Title”! Making his way to the ring first...The Challenger...He is...Eclipse!
“Eclipse” by Pink Floyd starts to play as the light start to flicker. They flicker to the rhythm of the beat of the song as they suddenly go out and standing in the ring is Eclipse with his head bowed. The light stop flickering and he looks up, giving no reaction to the crowd. His imposing frame, stoic, as he looks towards the entrance way.
Jim Gunt: That man is a monster and he means business.
Mike Rolash: Yeah, but he's gonna have his hands full with Jarvis!
Ray Douglas: And his opponent...He is the current CWF Paramount Champion...
The lights in the arena go down, and the capacity 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 a towel across his shoulders and a wry smirk on his face. He raises his right arm and begins to saunter confidently to the ring, with a steely determination in his eyes.
Ray Douglas: From Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. Weighing in at 240 lbs, this is Jarvis King!
The crowd roars their approval as Jarvis slides into the ring, and rolls to his feet. Grabbing his towel as he stands, Jarvis walks to his corner and climbs to the middle turnbuckle, and raises both arms in a salute to the fans, and then Jarvis gets taken down from behind with a boot to the back of the head by Eclipse sending him flying headfirst onto the mats outside of the ring.
Jim Gunt: WHOA!
Mike Rolash: He didn't even get a chance to say Flugelhorn!
Eclipse goes to the outside of the ring as the bell rings and picks up Jarvis and turns him around. Chop to the chest against the guard rail! He hauls off and does it again and again, until Jarvis wraps his leg around Eclipse's and turns him into the gaurdrail with a drop toe hold! Jarvis quickly gets behind Eclipse trying to go for a german suplex, but Eclipse blocks it and kicks off of the guard rail sending Jarvis back first into the ring!
Jim Gunt: This match seems to be throwing the rules out of the window.
Mike Rolash: Eclipse don't care about the rules. He cares about pain!
Eclipse grabs Jarvis by the face and slams his face into his knee sending Jarvis down to the mat on the outside. The referee, Clark Summits, tells them to get back into the ring. Eclipse pays him no mind, because to Eclipse he doesn't matter. Eclipse picks up “The Paramount Champion” over his head and tosses him into the ring chest first. Jarvis rolls on the mat as Eclipse gets back in to get away from him. Jarvis gets to the ropes on the other side and pulls himself up as Eclipse goes to kick him. Jarvis dodges it and kicks Eclipse in the chest! Eclipse stumbles back for a moment as Jarvis dropkicks Eclipse in the knee! Eclipse goes down, but as Jarvis goes to kick him again Eclipse grabs Jarvis' leg and whips him into the corner!
Jim Gunt: It's like no matter what he does Jarvis is getting overpowered by the monster!
Mike Rolash: He's gotta figure out a way to take him down, but that's not gonna be easy!
Eclipse gets up and grabs Javis and quickly hits him with three elbows to the face followed by a short arm clothesline! He picks up Jarvis and whips him by his hair! He yanks out part of Jarvis' hair as Jarvis flies across the ring. Clark tells him to knock it off and gets pie faced for his trouble as Eclipse sniffs the hair of Jarvis and drops it in the corner. Jarvis is bleeding from the scalp and glares at Eclipse as he yells at Clark to not stop the match. Jarvis charges at Eclipse and then baseball slides under his legs punching Eclipse in the balls!
Jim Gunt: ...well if all's fair in this match!
Mike Rolash: Guess Jarvis knows to beat him he's gonna have to go no DQ!
Jarvis gets up and runs to the ropes coming off and hitting Eclipse with a flying forearm to the chest, but it doesn't take the big man down. He wobbles a bit and Jarvis does it again, from the other side. No dice. Jarvis decides to go to the well a third time, but this time going for a kick. Eclipse catches the leg and Jarvis has not choice but to hit the enziguri! Eclipse takes the hit and ends up on the ropes as Jarvis goes down. Eclipse shakes his head for a moment as Jarvis gets up and hits the ropes. Eclipse readies his shoulder and...BACK BODY DROP OVER THE ROPES INTO THE SIDE OF THE ANNOUNCE TABLE!!!
Jim Gunt: Incoming!
Mike Rolash: AHHH!!!
Jarvis gets up with blood coming from his scalped wound as he looks up at Eclipse who gets up on the top turnbuckle and flies off going for a clothesline, but Jarvis rolls out of the way and Eclipse misses, but lands on his feet! Jarvis runs behind Eclipse and grabs the ring bell and slams it into Eclipse' head! He cracks the paint, but Eclipse just smiles at Jarvis...
Jim Gunt: Uh-oh!
Mike Rolash: That's not scary at all!
...and Jarvis returns fire by throwing the ring bell at Eclipse hitting him in the chest! Jarvis rushes up and grabs Eclipse. BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX! The big man finally goes down for one! Jarvis gets up and the crowd screams as Eclipse reaches up with his hand and grabs Jarvis and hoists him up for a choke toss into the ringpost!
Jim Gunt: Right on the spine!
Mike Rolash: Jarvis King just survived a war to keep his title and now he gets tossed into a match with this psychopath! He's gotta be feeling the pain now.
Eclipse grabs the steel steps and picks them up over his head bringing them down onto Jarvis' back! Jarvis still tries to crawl away after a moment, but Eclipse slams him again. Jarvis is down as Clark asks him if he give sup and Jarvis says to let it keep going! Eclipse grabs the “Paramount Title” from the ring attendant and puts it on top of the steps. He grabs Jarvis by the head and slams him headfirst into the title belt on the steps! He does this again and again getting more blood coming from Jarvis' wound. Eclipse makes a throat cut motion calling for the end when Jarvis wraps his arm around Eclipse's shoulder and then adjusts his legs to hit Eclipse with a Russian Legsweep into the steps! Eclipse's head bounces off the steps as he is slightly stunned. Jarvis get sup and starts to stumble away as Eclipse shakes out the cobwebs. He spies Jarvis in front of the ring barrier. Eclipse charges at Jarvis who gets hit with the spear into the ring barrier and...THEY GO THRU IT!!!
Jim Gunt: JESUS!
Mike Rolash: Thankfully the fans got out of the way! Clark's checking on them now!
“Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit!”
Once the hit happens Jarvis rolls with the hit. He gets on top of Eclipse and quickly rolls him up.
Ray Douglas: Here is your winner...and still Paramount Champion!! Jarvis King!!
Jim Gunt: A split second decision by Jarvis King and he pulls off a win!
Mike Rolash: That hit must have taken a lot out of Eclipse to pull that off.
Not enough as it seems as Eclipse gets up and grabs Jarvis. “The Pacifier ” is locked in! Jarvis is trying to tap out, but it's post match and Eclipse does not care. Jarvis eventually succumbs to the hold and passes out. Eclipse stands...bloody...and satisfied as he picks up the “Paramount Championship” and then walks towards the entranceway. He stops. He walks over and grabs the hair of Jarvis King that he snatched off and carries it with him.
Jim Gunt: The man is like a trophy hunter!
Mike Rolash: Eh...maybe he just wanted to find out the secret to Jarvis' hair products?
Jarvis is slowly getting to his feet - panting with sweat dropping from his brow. He gets up, raises his fist toward the rafters, before moving towards the ropes.
And that's when the lights go out.
Then back on.
But now? They're blood red.
The bloodiest of red you've ever seen.
Then, white spirals beginning to reflect against the stage, over the ring mat, and across Jarvis' winded body. Perplexed, he backs away from the ropes and tries to catch his bearings.
Suddenly, "Entry of the Gladiators" begins to play loudly throughout the venue. The red lights remain, but the white spirals begin to swirl around. Then, a spotlight catches something above the crowd. Wait, a trapeze?
Two of them? Performing as if it's the Ringling Bros. Circus all over again, Jarvis places his hands on his hips and furrows his brow - considerably confused. Nevertheless, the show marches on with a booming voice that rockets through the speakers.
The Ringmaster: Ladies and gentlemen. Children of all ages! It is I, your dear Ringmaster, setting the stage to amuse, marvel, and revolutionize the unpredictable, polarizing concept of entertainment. Get your bowl of popcorn, find a comfy seat, and be careful not to blink. For the world - in all of its grandeur - is about to get just a little bit more colorful!
The startling trumpeting of an elephant drowns out the music, which is following by the booming of the creature's footsteps. Before you know it, an elephant appears through the curtain and races toward the ring. This startles Jarvis enough to where he back-steps until tripping over himself and crumbling to the mat back-first. Meanwhile, the elephant stalls before colliding with the side of the wrestling ring.
The Ringmaster: And if you liked Marmalade - the great elephant - just WAIT until you see what I have in store for ALL OF YOU.
There he appears from behind the curtain - the fearless Circus King himself; wearing a top hat, a flamboyant suit with a bowtie, and wielded a staff. He smiles towards Jarvis, causing his handle-bar mustache to expand, before winking back at him.
The Ringmaster: The world is a circus. Enjoy the ride, friend. Fitzgerald Everett - F.E. Bentley. Pleased to make your acquaintance!
The red lights blink and the circus music grows louder, and louder, and louder, before blackness overwhelms. Once the lights turn back on, everything is back to normal. No elephant. No trapeze performing from above. No music. No ringmaster. Just Jarvis, still standing in the ring, as perplexed as ever.
Pete Whealdon is leaning against the wall of Eric Dane’s dressing room now. Dane is seated, ready in his ring gear. Whealdon’s head pointed towards the ceiling. A cigarette dangles from his fingers, dripping ash on to the ground.
Angus Skaaland ruminates and paces in the background.
Whealdon: The pull here is; This is an apple ready to be picked. I know you see it, Eric. I don’t think I get phone calls in Japan if you didn’t have something here for me.
Fingers mime a pistol.
Skaaland looks ready to burst.
Whealdon: Just so we’re one-hundred percent clear. I am here to help you raze this place to the ground and rebuild it in your image. I’m not here because of DEFIANCE. I’m not here because I particularly like Bronson Box. I’m here because you need me. Bronson has his spot, and like the tank he is, that blind spot is big. You saw it last week.
Skaaland can’t take it anymore.
Angus: What about all that king of sleaze Dick Fury bullshit. We ain’t got time for that here. This is serious business, Pete, there ain’t gonna be any thongs and baby oil and there ain’t gonna be bullshit. Can you even be trusted to keep it together?!
More than a squeak but less than a roar. Whealdon, and Dane both look at him.
Whealdon’s stare is dead at him, sunglasses locked in place.
Whealdon: I am the seawall against this Mall Goth, Chain Choker gibberish. Eric and Bronson need to be able to focus on more than whether or not Project Kiss cover band is getting in their collective way.
"Watashi wa sorera o motte kimasu dangan jigoku.
Watashi wa kono machigai no tame ni Nihon kara kaette konakatta. Watashi wa chūiwoharau kachinoaru teki o motomete iru.“
The Only Star rolls his eyes as Skaaland tries to pullout a smart phone to translate. Dane just raises his hand.
Dane: Listen. Pete. You’re right. I pulled you out of that Ichiban Bullshit of a life you were living and I brought you here to play the part that I bred you for all those years ago when I trained you. You’ve proven yourself to me, now it’s time you prove yourself to them.
Pete sucks at his cancer-stick.
Dane smiles. The players are now all on the board.
Eclipse is spotted backstage, exposing his back, now swelled and red. He raises his massive arm to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Suddenly he feels a poke on the back. The pokiest kind of poke. A poke...of doom, from none other than Ataxia. That's Commissioner Ataxia to you.
Ataxia: Hello fraaaand.
Eclipse turns to greet the new man in charge, the concrete floor of the arena trembling.
Ataxia: I saw your little shit show out there. Attacking the referees, utilizing weapons. So 1990's, isn't it?
Eclipse just bends down, looks Ataxia right in the eyes, and laughs in his face.
Ataxia: I want you know there's a new sheriff in town, frand. I'm the Commissioner now. I'm in control. You gotta respect my authoritah!
Eclipse: Is that so? It seems like that role means very little, doesn't it? What does control of CWF really mean when chaos constantly rues the day?
Ataxia: You'll see with me...it's different. You will comply or I will beat the compliance out of you!
Eclipse: Heh. That's what they all say isn't it? I get it. I've worn that suit and tie. I've been where you are now. I've been everywhere twice, Ataxia, including behind you with a knife bearing in on your back. Control is a fleeting feeling. One moment the sun is up. The next...it's all dark.
A large red carpet comes from behind the curtain and unravels itself all the way to the ring.
"One For The Money" - Escape The Fate
Once it’s in place, Mikey Unlikely steps out, and, ignoring the boos from the fans, gives a very cordial wave, all the way to the ring.
Jim Gunt: Seems like one of our new wrestlers is set to join us Mike!
Mike Rolash: ...And one you may have seen before! This is a guy who’s crossed over to the mainstream Jim!
The camera cuts to the front row, where we see a rather large fan freaking out. The man jumps up and down the best he can and screams like a girl when Mikey walks through the curtain. His blonde hair bouncing on his shoulders, and his tight “I <3 Mikey Unlikely” shirt is about 3 sizes too small, exposing midriff no one wants to see.
Jim Gunt: He sure has! Mr. Unlikely here has been in several full length hollywood films, as well as the villain in the Hulu show “Crow’s Alley” which is now in season 2!
Wearing his ring gear, the "World's Greatest Sports Entertainer" also sports a pair of black aviators. He hops on the ring apron, before stepping through the ropes. He climbs one turnbuckle on the opposite side of the ring, and poses for the cameras.
The rotund fan can be heard shouting “MIKEY! MIKEY! WE LOVE YOU!” His cries are ignored.
Slowly he makes his way over towards the timekeeper and grabs the microphone before returning to the center of the ring.
Mikey Unlikely: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for that warm reception! I’m very glad to be here!
The crowd reaction is a bit mixed. The female contingent seem to be cheering Mikey, while the males not so much.
Mikey Unlikely: I’ve been quite busy these past couple years with all the super stardom and movie success I’ve had, all the while I knew my fans… my fans back in the wrestling world, would be patiently waiting for my return to the ring one day! WELL GET READY! Cause that day is today!
A big sign is waving in the front row, the camera zooms in on it.
Mike Rolash: That fan is very eager to get himself noticed!
Jim Gunt: Mikey doesn’t seem so keen.
Mikey Unlikely: I heard it almost daily! On set, on the streets, at dinner, on the twitter machine, it was all the same! “#WhereIsMikey?”. Well fret not! For I was lying in wait, for the right opportunity to arise! The right spotlight for Mikey! The perfect career move! Then the CWF came calling just as I was finishing up on set, with a hefty offer! One I couldn’t turn down!
Jim Gunt: What a great guy!
The movie star skips a beat.
Mikey Unlikely: Slowly but surely the CWF has been growing into a powerhouse. HERE they have some of the top wrestling talent in the WORLD! HERE they have some of the most interesting events I’ve ever seen, HERE they have some championships with a long legacy… but more importantly…. HERE in the CWF…. THEY HAVE MIKEY!
Here comes the boo’s, except for the one fan in the front row who now holds another sign in his hands.
“MIKEY SAVED MY ANUS
Jim Gunt: wait a minute…
Mikey Unlikely: That’s right! The one thing this company was missing, the one thing it needs in order to put it over the top, is a SUPERSTAR! A face of the company! Someone to bring some… OUTSIDE exposure! Let’s face it… this company could seriously use a facelift!
The fan shouts out again. He tries to climb the rail, but security stops him.
“Mikey I want your face!... Wait…. Guys no! It’s ok! I KNOW HIM! I KNOW HIM!”
More security rushes down to stop the guy; Mikey finally takes notice of this. He tries to power through.
Mikey Unlikely: Championship Wrestling Federation fret not! The World’s Greatest Sports Entertainer has arrived!
Mikey's theme hits again as he goes to leave. First he heads towards the rush of security and moves them out of the way. They take Mikey’s lead and back off before The fan recovers and stands up straight again. Spotting Mikey nearby, the fan reaches down excitedly and grabs yet another sign waving it wildly toward the “superstar”.
“HUG ME MIKEY
I HAVE CANCER”
Mikey recognizes the man finally and takes his sunglasses off.
Mikey Unlikely: BOBO! How good to see you!
Mikey walks towards the big fan with his hands outstretched and a smile on his face. In return the fan does the same thing. Closes his eyes and waits for the warm embrace of the hug.
Mike Rolash: A little appreciation here for one of Mikey’s fans!
Jim Gunt: One of the few….
As they come close, Mikey shifts. He rips the sign out of the hands of Bobby Dean before furiously tearing it to pieces at ringside. He grabs the pieces and throws them at the chest of the fan.
The fan is confused for split second before trying to collect the pieces quickly.
“No no no no no!”
Mikey leaves the ringside area, waving off the upset gentlemen. He turns to face the crowd, and stretches out his arms.
SILAS ARTORIA: TARA!
The Psychotic Aristocrat storms through the locker room door, staggering around, his body clearly bandaged. His left eye is red, and surrounding the eyelid is a vaguely black texture. He takes to the arena outline, and attracts some attention from staff.
SILAS ARTORIA: COME OUT, COME OUT TARA! YOU HAVE A GAME TO FINISH!
He grits his teeth before his attention is diverted elsewhere. A man holding a spotlight steps back, but Silas immediately gets in his face. He’s clearly distressed, and Silas doesn’t break eye contact. His breath whistles between his clenched teeth.
SILAS ARTORIA: Tara Robinson. Where abouts is she?
The man stammers, but Silas gets closer to the point that the stagehand is leaning back.
SILAS ARTORIA: TELL ME!
The stagehand nervously points towards the distance, shaking wildly in pure fear. Silas glances in the pointed direction, then returned his attention to the man in front of him.
SILAS ARTORIA: Wasn’t so hard was it?
He grabs the spotlight, and makes his way towards his target, quickly swinging the spotlight to the side for the light itself to escape its clamp, creating a tinny crash as it landing on the floor. Silas kept his grip on the base structure of the equipment, as the backstage interviewer can finally be seen.
Silas stops walking.
SILAS ARTORIA: TARA!
Tara turns towards Silas’ direction, quickly taken aback by his presence, and is quickly overwhelmed with the sense of danger. The two druids that have been protecting her all night ease her back, but this does not dissipate her fear. Silas tuts, nods his head, and starts storming towards her with the stand in hand.
SILAS ARTORIA: Imbecile, play stupid games, win stupid priz--
His sentence abruptly stops as an arm slips around his neck, hooking around another. The pressure on his carotid artery slows his struggles, and he’s fading fast. Taking a deep breath of relief, Tara’s eyes meet a smirking MJ Flair’s, though she quickly looks concerned at the bloodstain that has dried on her cheek.
MJF: Fifteen stitches, Stupid McFuckstick… now we’re even.
She lets go, whipping his head towards the wall. Not quite knocked out from her sleeper, the impact has the opposite effect of typical head trauma and he jolts awake, though clearly disoriented.
He staggers to his feet as MJ maneuvers around him, keeping herself between the Psychotic Aristocrat and Tara Robinson. A right hand goes wide: his vision is obviously blurred, and MJ follows up with a pair of her own. Silas steadies himself on the wall and fires a left hand that connects with MJ’s sternum, but she steps back with it and is able to absorb most of the impact, switching tactics and driving a boot into his left knee.
Silas drops to his knees, and MJ grabs him by the hair, pulling them face to face.
MJF: Touch me again, and I’ll own your ass out in that ring. Touch Tara again? I will end your fucking career, motherfucker.
Defiantly, Silas spits in her face.
MJ spits right back, and pulls down on his hair as hard as she can, slamming his face into the floor.
MJF: Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
She gives Tara a glance and winks, hurrying away. Silas tries to lean up, but fails and collapses back down. He tilts his head slightly, attracting some attention of naive crewmen and women, with the red eye and black texture now absent. He breathes out, closes his eyes, and collapses.
Jim Gunt: There are so many things happening here tonight, folks, it is hard to keep up. So we have a mysterious newcomer here, who calls himself the Ringleader, looks to my like he belongs more in a circus than a ring, but we'll have to see where that goes.
Mike Rolash: Yes, one more freak... speaking of, Silas - he really has issues with Tara, what did that girl ever do to him?
Jim Gunt: You can ask him... But looks like he ran into another problem with MJ, Silas is going to be a busy, busy man...
Ray Douglas is in the center of the ring, looking impatiently at the announce duo.
Ray Douglas: This next contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the commissionership of the CWF!
Mike Rolash: I still can't believe this is a thing that could happen.
Jim Gunt: Nobody forced Rish to agree to this match.
Mike Rolash: WRONG! Ataxia did!
"I Apologize" by Five Finger Death Punch sounds out into the arena as the fans boo the entrance of the CWF's owner.
Ray Douglas: Introducing first, from Philadelphia, PA... JAY... RISH!!!
Jim Gunt: These fans certainly not happy with the owner!
Mike Rolash: Ungratefuls.
Rish slides into the ring, a look of intensity on his face.
Ray Douglas: And his opponent...
"Dangerous Tonight" by Alice Cooper.
Ray Douglas: The current reigning CWF Impact Champion... AAAAAAAAATAXIAAAAAA!!!!
Jim Gunt: These fans have Ataxia fever, Mike!
Mike Rolash: That's actually a serious condition, Jim - I hope they're not contagious.
Jim Gunt: The Ataxiarmy in full force as the Impact Champion makes his way to ringside. No Amelia tonight; clearly she's getting herself ready for her tag team match later on!
Clark Summits brings the Columbus, Ohio fans to their feet as he calls for the bell.
Jim Gunt: Here we go Mike, we get to see the boss in action!
Mike Rolash: Please sweet Mary and baby Jesus if there is a God out there SOMEWHERE please do not let this maniac win over any control of this company!
Jim Gunt: Why not, I think Ataxia would make a splendid commish.
The Messiah Pariah meets the owner of CWF in the middle of the ring, visibly trying to hold back laughter as he puts his hand over the mouth hole of his burlap mask. Rish begins to angrily point his finger into the Knight in Burlap’s chest.
Jim Gunt: The president of CWF is clearly not in the mood for Ataxia’s games tonight.
Mike Rolash: Well I mean, he did just had his wife tell him she wants a divorce a few days ago. Have a little sympathy, man.
Jim Gunt: Since when did you become so sympathetic?
Rolash no-sells his broadcast partner’s questioning as Ataxia has finally had enough of Rish’s finger poke of doom, grabbing onto his pointer finger, in one quick moment moving his finger up to his own mouth.
Ataxia: SHHHH! Be quiet sweet prince, this will go so much smoother.
Rish raises an eyebrow at the Messiah Pariah.
J. Rish: I didn't say anything?
Ataxia: Now you did!
And Ataxia forces the finger of Rish up into his own eye. The President stomps up and down in anger, holding onto his damaged eye with his one good hand.
Jim Gunt: Ha, Ataxia playing some major mind games with the boss.
Mike Rolash: Mind games, that was all out cheating!
Jim Gunt: It would be, Mike, if this match wasn’t no disqualifications. It’s a friggin’ Street Fight.
With J. Rish bent over still, holding onto his possibly injured eye, Clark Summits tries to hold Ataxia back from causing any more damage to him despite the No DQ rules of the match. Ataxia will have none of it, instead deciding to drop right to the canvas? The Columbus fans pop wildly as they can almost sense a smile forming underneath the burlap mask of Ataxia, right before he backhands the hell out of J. Rish!
Jim Gunt: HAI FRAND!
Mike Rolash: Oh god, not you too, Jimmy.
Jim Gunt: That’s the name of the maneuver, Mike. I’m just doing my job in calling this match.
Mike Rolash: You call this a wrestling match? What an abomination of the sport of pro wrestling!
Jim Gunt: Why, because Ataxia is having his way with Rish the entire match so far and may very well be your superior by the end of this evening?
Mike Rolash: Exactly!
A quick forearm to the jaw of the President further stuns him, allowing Ataxia to whip him hard into the corner. The Messiah Pariah lets out a strange cackling shriek before charging full speed at Rish with a Big Body Splash. NO! Rish ducks out of the way and drops hard to the outside, but not as hard as Ataxia hits the turnbuckle! The masked man spikes the top turnbuckle right under his chin, driving his head upward as he falls back awkwardly. The thousands of fans in attendance gasp nearly at the same time, watching as their wild hero lays on the canvas seeing stars, Summits quickly checking on him.
Jim Gunt: Oh no, that mistake could have cost Ataxia everything, Mike. As a matter of fact, it appears that he may have suffered a concussion!
Mike Rolash: Those turnbuckles are pretty unforgiving. Yes there is small padding on each one, but you have to imagine that underneath is thick metal chords and if they are hit just right, they’re going to do some damage.
With a sly smile forming on his face as he pulls himself up to his feet with the help of the apron, Rish sees Ataxia knocked out in the middle of the ring and knows immediately that he may not have a chance like this again. The CWF President pulls the apron up, frantically digging through the contents underneath the ring before pulling a kendo stick out to a fairly large pop from the Ohio fans. Rish rolls into the ring with the weapon, pushing Summits out of the way and immediately striking down upon Ataxia with the stick. Ataxia barely moves until he takes three successive nasty shots to the chest and face, the third finally waking him as he screams out.
Jim Gunt: Well, that’s one way to wake up a man.
Mike Rolash: Shouldn’t be sleeping on the job anyway.
A furious, visceral look on the face of J. Rish as he raises the already half broken kendo stick in the air, letting out a roar before he fully breaks it right over the bagged head of Ataxia!
Jim Gunt: Holy shit! Ataxia is out like a light!
Mike Rolash: YES! Cover him, Rish!
Seeing his golden opportunity, the owner of CWF throws the broken piece of stick out over the top rope and drops to his knees. He takes the back of Ataxia’s bagged head and pulls it up, making his unconscious form look him “eye to eye”. AND HE DRILLS HIM WITH A ELBOW FOR GOOD MEASURE! J. Rish lays over the body of Ataxia, hooking both of his legs as the Columbus, Ohio fans shower him with boos.
Mike Rolash: It’s gotta be over here! Our boss really has embarrassed Ataxia right here in the middle of the ring tonight!
Jim Gunt: No! Ataxia kicks out at two, Mike! And it looks like the fun and games are over, the Messiah Pariah is no longer in a jovial mood!
Pushing Rish off of him, Ataxia crawls over to him and immediately greets him with a cracking headbutt. Showing that he still has not one hundred percent recovered, Ataxia is woozy as he gets to his feet, but brings up the CWF president with him and right back down with an insane lariat!
Jim Gunt: Rish nearly having his head taken off there! Whadda clothesline!
Mike Rolash: Come on Rish, get up!
The Messiah Pariah waits for J. Rish to do just that, grabbing onto him from behind as he struggles to fully get to his feet. E.R. STAT! The German Suplex sends Rish right into the nearest turnbuckle, the sound of his spine crunching against the thin pads reverberates through the arena sending the Ohio fans into a frenzy. Ataxia stays right on Rish, meeting him with a right hand in the corner. But Rish somehow comes right back with one of his own! And Ataxia is loving it! He calls Rish in for another shot, motioning his hands in as his bagged head bounces up and down.
Jim Gunt: Ataxia is begging Rish to bring the heat, he may be a mad man but maybe just maybe he is trying to save the president of CWF!
Mike Rolash: Or maybe like you just said, he’s fucking crazy!
J. Rish obliges Ataxia in another over right hand, followed by an uppercut under Ataxia’s jaw. The Messiah Pariah looks like he may have had enough of Rish’s attempts at a brawling style, catching him as he runs in for one more big punch. SPINEBUSTER! The Messiah Pariah once again drives Rish onto his spine, this time right onto the canvas!
Jim Gunt: Well no one can say the boss is spineless after that!
Mike Rolash: Yeah! Laugh it up! This is the man who has given us both a job and you are making light of this!
Jim Gunt: I am not, but this is Rish's own fault since he called out Ataxia for this match!
Mike Rolash: Oh you're just sucking up to the new boss if he actually pulls this off.
Ataxia doesn't go for the pin, but stands up.
Ataxia: Is that all you got?
J. Rish: (Breathing heavily)
Clark Summits: Come on Tax...just finish him off.
Ataxia: No...Not till he's had enough! Come on!
Ataxia backhands Rish!
Ataxia: I'm a black hearted bastard after all, right!
Ataxia kicks Rish!
Ataxia: I've bled for you! I've fought for you! And when I try to help you...you spit in my face...
Ataxia picks up Rish.
Ataxia: Come on...Tell me how much of a dissapointment I am now...
J. Rish: Hey...Tax...
J. Rish: Your fly's open...Frand!
KNEE TO THE BALLS! Ataxia drops for a brief moment as Rish starts wailing on him with lefts and rights again. Rish looks up top and heads to the turnbuckle post. He hops up to the top rope as Ataxia lays on the ground. Rish is a bit shakey so he tries to catch his bearings and Ataxia leaps up. He rushes to the corner and jumps up dropkicking Rish in the throat!
Jim Gunt: Dear God!
Mike Rolash: Holy Hell!!
Rish lands on the outside holding his throat as Ataxia goes out there. Clark Summits grabs Ataxia and shoves him telling him to back off of Rish, but Ataxia pie faces Clark. Ataxia grabs Rish and slides him back into the ring as Summit continues to berate him for that move. Ataxia gets back into the ring with Summits still in tow as Ataxia finally nods to try and take it easy on Rish. Rish pulls himself up by the ropes and see's the two arguing. He takes a few deep breaths and runs up to Ataxia and hits a bulldog!
Mike Rolash: YES!
Jim Gunt: A desperate move and...Look!
Rish gets up still clutching his throat...with a brown burlap mask in his hand. He turns around and we see Ataxia unmasked. The chalk white hair as Tax keeps his face covered. Rish looks down at the mask and back at Ataxia and tosses it off. He heads over and kicks Ataxia in the back, and Ataxia sprawls out , face first, onto the mat.
Jim Gunt: We could finally see who Ataxia really is?!
Mike Rolash: Finally! Finish him off Rish! Do it now!
Rish grabs Ataxia and turns him over to reveal...
Ataxia wearing a latex mask of Jaiden Rishel...
Ataxia: (With the voice of Jaiden Rishel) What's wrong dad? Can't finish the job.
Mike Rolash: That bastard...
Rish looks at this...thing in front of him. He's so taken aback that he backs away as Ataxia stands up. Rish has tears streaming down from his eyes, and his face turns red.
J. Rish: You...SON OF A BITCH!!
Rish hits Ataxia. Again! Again! Again! The crowd, which would normally be cheering this on is seeing a man grieving the loss of his son having to actually fight someone who looks just like him. Rish keeps swinging over and over until he's almost hyperventalting. Ataxia motions for him to hit him again.
Ataxia: Come on...do it...let it out...you've been carrying this for months. Go ahead...I can take it.
Rish brings up his fist and slams it into Ataxia face. It slightly rips the latex face and Rish falls to one knee. Ataxia just stands there. Tears flowing down his face as well as Rish looks up at him. Rish makes a come on motion to Ataxia and Ataxia nods. He waits for Rish to get up to his feet and...Ataxia holds his hand straight out putting his fingers onto Rish's sternum.
Ataxia: I'm sorry...
Almost faster than our eyes can register it Ataxia's hand turns into a fist and hits Rish square in the sternum. “The Butterfly Kiss”! Rish falls down to the mat clutching his chest as Ataxia quickly school boys him.
Ray Douglas: Here is your winner and...oh god...The NEW CWF Commissioner...Ataxia!!
Jim Gunt: He did it...but at what a cost.
Ataxia walks over and picks up his mask. He puts it on as Rishel slowly starts to get up to a standing ovation from the CWF crowd.
“Thank you Rish! Thank you Rish!”
Ataxia gets close enough to Rishel to where the camera's can pick this up.
Ataxia: We're going to find him...I know he's not gone Rish. I'm going to help you...just like you helped me.
Rishel glares at Ataxia as “The Messiah Pariah” leaves the ring and heads to the back.
Jim Gunt: And now those two men have to coexist as owner and commissioner!
We startlingly cut right to a close up of the gnarled mustachioed mug of The Bombastic Bronson Box. As the camera thankfully pans back and away from the extreme angle on The Wargod’s unsettling face, we see he’s sitting on and amidst a few road crates stowed away in some lonely corner of the otherwise bustling backstage area.
The STARMAKER sits with his back against the wall, his giant mits gripping the two ends of the white towel thrown around the back of his neck, and a look of wide, wild-eyed confidence. A confidence earned currently by the oh-so-fine company he’s been keeping.
The camera finally finishes panning back to reveal none other than The Only Star, The Hardcase, The End Boss Eric Dane leaning confidently with his arms crossed. His eyes locked silently on the camera.
About an arms length away, lost in his own little world puffing away at the end of a cigarette, Pete Whealdon.
Bronson Box: This is where I’d be gettin’ pretty fookin’ nervous if I was you. In a few minutes all…[motions weakly around him] all this ceases to matter. All our fookin’ [nods at Dane] talkin’ and carryin’ on… you two an’ yer’ [chuckling] theatricality, it all amounts to precisely DICK when yer’ out there between those ropes and all you got are these… and another mans FOOKIN’ face between you and that precious, precious win.
He slowly balls up his lunch-pail sized fists and holds them aloft.
The Hardcase smiles and butts in.
Eric Dane: He drinks your goddamn milkshake, fuckwads.
Pete nods slightly and acknowledges that line. He must be a Daniel Day Lewis fan.
An obviously confident, reenergized Wargod leans forward, elbows on knees.
Bronson Box: Mia Rayne, Amelia… honestly, it doesn't rightly matter which. My dear lass from what little I’ve seen of you you’re quite obviously outclassed and embarrassingly outgunned by the two fookin’ leviathans standin’ right here before ye’. All the gigglin’ and crawlin’ and muckin’ about won’t do ye’ a lick of good when Eric and I are tossin’ ye’ about on yer’ wee neck there, precious.
He shakes his head matter-of-factly. Cold as ice.
Bronson Box: You should be fookin’ terrified right now, lass. And as for yer’ partner…
Boxer’s words escape his gnarled lips like a low hiss.
Pete’s still puffing away behind the two, his eyes hidden behind those reflective aviator sunglasses… watching quietly as the smoke from his cigarette spirals up and away.
The Hardcase hazards a look over his shoulder at Whealdon before barreling on.
Eric Dane: Tell him how you feel, Boxer…
Bronson Box: Shadow. I… as you may have noticed I take my career, and aye myself just about as serious as one can. I’m not sure you quite realize just how FAR you stepped in it with me, lad. You stole my thunder somethin’ fierce... from Golden Intentions to Evolution 24, you just kicked my debut for this company to death, my boy and…
A terrifying, breathless little chuckle and a wide eyed shake of his head.
He hops down off the road crate and takes a few deliberate steps forward, towards us.
Utter, red-in-the-face, spittle flying, wild blood-shot brown eyed Wargod style madness.
Bronson Box: Well, and that’s some BLOODY shite Bronson Box can’t let FOOKIN’ STAND! SHADOW. Tonight?! TONIGHT'S THE FOOKIN’ NIGHT, BOY’O!
He beats on his giant fist across his pectoral area with nearly every syllable of his unhinged speech, his chest now beet red as he silently glowers and mugs for the camera. The Only Star lets that wild scene breath a little before he takes a couple steps forward himself and places a hand on his tag team partners massive shoulder.
Eric Dane: Understand something.
His eyes are hatred, his grimace is disgust.
Eric Dane: This isn’t about fucking DEFIANCE. You wanna know about DEFIANCE? Go find that fucking stooge Mikey Unlikely and ask him.
The sneer tells you everything you need to know.
Eric Dane: And believe me, I’ll get around to handling that little prick before all’s said and done, but at the moment there are bigger fish to fry. No, friends, this has nothing to do with fucking DEFIANCE. This has everything to do with the here, and everything to do with the now.
Thin lips stretch over crystalline teeth.
Eric Dane: Tonight is the beginning of my Golden Paradigm, and these are the men I choose to bring with me into this poor, pathetic, ill informed war of shiftless factions and misguided heroes. These men and myself, The Golden Paradigm of the CWF, we are here to rape and pillage and burn this place to the ground…
The Hardcase pauses.
Eric Dane: And not for the silly reasons you’ll hear out of the mouths of the Duce Jones’ and Revenants of the world. No no, we have an actual purpose. A reason. A modus fucking operandi if you will.
Whealdon quietly takes another drag back behind him. Box mindlessly opens and closes his massive fists as he stares intensely off into the non-distance.
Eric Dane: We are here to take from you that which you do not fucking deserve, have not earned, and do not understand. Hear me NOW! The CWF belongs to me, The Golden Paradigm is here to stay, and tonight-
The Apocalypse Machine interjects.
Bronson Box: TONIGHT?! We pick our bloody teeth with the BONES of the tag team champions is what we do, boy’o!
The End Boss gestures broadly at the men around him. His smile is as genuine as it is terrifying. His voice is like hot gravel as he brings it on home.
Eric Dane: Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, the Paradigm shifts.
Dangan Jikou takes one final drag and deftly flicks the cigarette away. He floats to the forefront, frighteningly close to the camera and unsettlingly smug.
Pete Whealdon: We are not idle. We are the devil. We've come here to do the devil’s work.
We return backstage and once again find Choronzon, ostensibly alone in one of the many hallways that backstages seem to be filled with. He paces slowly, speaking into a phone.
Choronzon: It's me. The message has been delivered.
Choronzon: No. Honestly, it doesn't matter whether or not she heeds my warning. If she does, the problems solve themselves. If she doesn't, then we handle it.
Yet another pause. We can't hear any voice on the other end of the phone; their identity is a mystery.
Choronzon: This one, she may be a problem. I don't expect her to just go away, but I'm prepared to handle--
From out of nowhere, Choronzon is shoved into the wall in front of him, his forehead bouncing off the concrete and the phone clattering away. He sinks to his knees, caught off guard, steadying himself on the wall.
A boot kicks him in the back of the head, sandwiching his face with an unsettling crack that may or may not be a nose breaking.
The fans begin to cheer even louder as MJ Flair leans into view, blood still caked on her cheek, smile still on her face.
MJF: Message received; message rejected.
And MJ walks away. Choronzon takes a minute to steady himself, but stands up and storms after her with purpose.
Jim Gunt: Wow, all I can say is wow, who would have thought that we would see Ataxia as a Commissioner of CWF, right Mike? Mike?
He looks to his left and Mike is still sitting there, pale as the wall, eyes wide, looking positively shellshocked.
Jim Gunt: Aaalrighty then. So the action continues here and like I said, with everything that is happening tonight we could probably fill two shows easily! Looks like we have a new stable rising, the Golden Paradigm, and they also want to take CWF, this is going to become a huge tug of war here, Rish, Ataxia, Ouroboros, now them... And then we have MJ Flair getting ever deeper into the whole Ouroboros quagmire... On a more positive note, The Forsaken are really cementing their position as dominant force in CWF right now and next up we have our current two tag team champions, Mia or Amelia or whatever she goes with right now and The Shadow facing off against the End Boss Eric Dane and Bronson Box!
After a quick glance at Mike and a brief wave in front of his yes that still will not blink, the camera moves to the ring, where Ray Douglas is awaiting the sign to get going.
Ray Douglas: The next match is a tag team match scheduled for one fall. First to the ring, the Golden Paradigm - ERIC DANE AND BRONSON BOX!
"The Devil Beneath my Feet" by Marilyn Manson sounds off.
The cameras are all aimed at the entrance to the stage, but nobody is coming out.
Jim Gunt: OK, this is odd, somebody should be coming out, don’t really care who…
One cameraman takes the initiative and walks through the curtain, past the Gorilla position and into the backstage area of the Nationwide Arena. It does not take long before the sounds of fighting can be heard and the cameraman starts to run. After a few turns he catches up with Bronson Box ramming The Shadow into some production boxes, which roll away and have the Weaver of Dreams stagger alongside them. An ear-piercing scream makes the cameraman jump and he whirls around, showing Amelia big boot Eric Dane out of a hallway.
Jim Gunt: Now at least we know why nobody came out, but now what? Hold on, I hear that we have Charles State with our brand new commissioner Ataxia! Charles?
The tron lights up with Charles State standing backstage, with Ataxia speaking to referee Scott Dean and sending him off.
Charles State: Commissioner Ataxia--
Ataxia: AHAAHAHAHA - I could get used to that!
Charles State: --obviously the match has not even made it into the arena, I just saw you speak with Scott Dean, what is the current status?
Ataxia: Well, since they don’t want to play in the sandbox, this is now a no disqualification, falls count anywhere match!
At this announcement the fans go wild, even though it means that they will only be able to see the match over the big screen, unless the competitors would accidentally come all the way to the ring, that is.
Jim Gunt: There it is, the first power decision by Commissioner Ataxia, the match continues and it looks like it is going to be a wild one! Right, Mike? Mike!
Still no movement from Rolash.
Jim Gunt: Geez, Mikey, just snap out of it or I’ll have to call you Catatonia…
As the picture switches back to the backstage battlefield, Scott Dean has made it to the scene of the action and witnesses Bronson Box using The Shadow as a battering ram, breaking through a set of doors out into the concourse of the Nationwide Arena, sending fans scrambling out of the way as the quartet breaks out into the public area. Bronson goes right after The Shadow, drags him to his feet and hurls them across the concourse, right through the patrons of the concession and merchandise stands. Meanwhile Amelia and Eric Dane are brawling still in the backstage area, making it hard for Scott Dean to keep track of both battlegrounds at once, opting for the backstage brawl for now.
Jim Gunt: I think we need a second referee here, because otherwise we might have a problem here… Mike, can you quickly go find the commissioner?
But he does not have to do that, because as if summoned, Ataxia steps through the curtains and makes his way down to the announce tables.
Ataxia: Hm. I think we have a severe case of Ataxiitis. There is only one way to get him out of this, fight fire with fire.
Says it and proceeds to give Mike a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, which snaps him out of his catatonic state, pushing Ataxia off him with all his might and backing up.
Mike Rolash: What the hell did you do that for, you freak? I have a match to call here any moment now.
Ataxia flashes him a smile and points to the tron, where The Shadow just speared Bronson into a group of tables, sending cups and plates flying in all directions. Mike just looks at the image with his mouth open in disbelief.
Ataxia: You’re a little behind times, but we always knew that…
Using his index finger he pushes Rolash’s mouth shut.
Ataxia: Oh, and Jim, a second ref is on the way.
Jim gives him a thumbs up and Trent Robbins arrives at the scene as Eric Dane whips Amelia into a concrete pillar backstage. He walks over and stands over her.
Eric Dane: Is this the thank you I get for saving you last week? I could have let them tear you apart, you know?
Amelia’s answer is a slap in the face of Dane that whips his head sideways. As he turns back to face her, his face is red from both the slap and anger, but as he lifts his arm for a punch Amelia’s leg goes up, temporarily taking away most, if not all, of his testicular fortitude. Just as he collapses next to her the picture switches back to the other match, so to say, where Bronson and The Shadow are still at full war. The Shadow is jumping off a chair, with an elbow drop to a prone Bronson Box laying across a table, predictably breaking through and at least for the time being both are on the ground, barely moving, while fans are taking pictures they never had dreamed they could when the arrived at the arena.
Jim Gunt: This must be one of the most uncoordinated matches I have ever seen!
Mike Rolash: No kidding, at least we have two refs now…
And their work is not made any easier by the competitors, who are doing their best to make their job as hard as possible. Mia is heaving Eric against a vending machine with enough force for a can of soda to puncture and spray it’s sticky insides all over. As she tries to grab him, though, he surprises her with a punch to the stomach and a fierce uppercut that has her reeling backwards. Dane takes the opportunity for a quick run on and a hard lariat turns her inside out on the concrete floor.
Jim Gunt: This is turning into a rather brutal affair here!
Meanwhile both of the other two are back on their feet and the picture cuts just in time to see The Shadow going over the counter of one of the concession stands, wiping out several napkin and condiment containers in the process as well as the POS terminal. As Box jumps over said counter, he is met with the fist of The Shadow, sending him staggering backwards into the wall. The Shadow is back up and tries to pepper the Scot with punches, but Bronson’s reflexes are too fast for him to connect. After a few tries Box gives The Shadow a toothy smile, but only gets a punch right to the forehead for it. The impact of his cranium against the tile wall does not seem to have any effect on the Scotsman, though, as he immediately charges forward and slams The Shadow into a cooler on the far end of the bay.
Mike Rolash: This is starting to become a hazard for employees and fans alike! Did someone call--
Before he even has to finish his sentence, head of security T.J. "Fridge" Flint appears at the scene together with a few of his crew, making sure that the fans do not get too close and potentially get hit by some byproduct of the battle. Bronson picks up The Shadow and as much as he can do with the limited space he has, hoists up the Weaver of Dreams and throws him over the counter again, leading to the security guards scrambling backwards to ensure the safety of the onlookers, who are snapping pictures and videos all along.
Jim Gunt: Good call on the security, Mike!
Mike Rolash: Do you always have to-- Wait! Was that a compliment?
In the backstage area, Amelia and Eric seem to have found the props room, as Eric Dane pelts Amelia with the head of the Columbus Blue Jackets mascot Stinger, momentarily stunning her, giving him the opportunity to spear her into some other Blue Jackets signage that predictably gives way under the impact, but at the same time provides ammunition for Amelia, as pieces of plastic and other debris are flying in his direction, keeping him at bay just long enough for her to get back to her feet. Quickly looking around she finds an old hockey stick that comes in handy as a stabbing weapon at first, then as a submission tool as she breaks it across Dane’s back before slumping back against a parked zamboni.
Jim Gunt: I had no idea Amelia was this proficient with a hockey stick!
Mike Rolash: She’s from Buffalo, they almost Canada, that’s why.
Jim Gunt: That does not even make sense…
Cutting to the other scene of mayhem, The Shadow and Bronson Box have reached one of the most iconic landmarks of the Nationwide Arena, the cannon that is parked on the middle bowl. The Shadow has Bronson Box’ arm through the spokes of the wheel, hanging off it with all his strength, causing Bronson to scream in pain. The problem with this setup is, though, that The Shadow seems to have underestimated the reach of his opponent, as a hard fist comes down hard on the side of his head and he has to let go. Bronson is massaging his arm to get some more feeling into it again, but does not want to give The Shadow any time to recuperate. He yanks him back onto his feet, whipping him into the cannon and The Shadow falls over the axle, crashing hard to the ground.
Jim Gunt: I hope this thing is not loaded!
Mike Rolash: Why? You don’t want the match to end with a bang?
Jim Gunt: No, that thing is aimed towards here!
Mike Rolash: What? I hope this thing is not loaded!
Jim Gunt (exasperated): That’s what I just said…
Cut to the backstage storeroom. Eric Dane is still on the ground when Amelia picks up one of the large signs she had crashed into earlier and brings it down hard across his back, ensuring he is staying down. Outside Bronson is coming around the big wheel of the cannon, but The Shadow is using the barrel of the cannon to swing himself forward, hitting the Scot in the chest with a double leg kick that has Box staggering back into the plexiglass barrier in front of the cannon. The Shadow is following it up with another dropkick that had Box push dangerously against the thin piece of plastic that stands between him and a 40 foot fall. As he staggers forward, The Weaver of Dreams uses the momentum to send his opponent face first into the barrel.
Jim Gunt: Not sure why, but I have a feeling that we are getting closer to the end here!
Amelia is looking at the downed Dane with an intense stare, then looks around and begins to giggle when she sees the zamboni again. As she is climbing up its back to get to the top, Bronson hits The Shadow with a jaw-shaking right fist, sending him to the ground. He drags The Shadow up from the ground and lifts him up over his head!
Mike Rolash: This man has incredible strength, The Shadow is not an MJ Flair here!
The tron turns into a split screen and on the left Amelia is jumping off the zamboni, landing hard on top of Dane, while to the right Bronson throws The Shadow into the barrel of the cannon, who hits the unrelenting steel with his left side.
Jim Gunt: Oh my God, both Amelia and Bronson go for the pin!
Ray Douglas: I have no idea what to call here!
Both Amelia and Bronson get up and raise their hands in victory.
Jim Gunt: We’ll have our first VAR here tonight!
Mike Rolash: VCR?
Jim Gunt: No, dumbo, video assisted review!
Both pinfalls are replayed side by side in slow motion and the replay shows that a split second before the hand of Scott Dean hits the ground for the third time, Eric Dane throws a shoulder and kicks out at two and a long half.
Ray Douglas: And the winners by pinfall - the team of Eric Dane and Bronson Box, THE GOLDEN PARADIGM!
Jim Gunt: This without a doubt has been the closest match I have ever seen and actually the first one that I see that actually had two refs and all that... But yeah, the Golden Paradigm is off to an impressive start here, but the Forsaken did not go down without a fight and at least it was not for their titles, so not everything is lost for them here. But something is happening backstage...again!
We see Jezebel walking backstage, smirking at the apparent success of her earlier ambush of MJ Flair. She suddenly stops dead, and her smirk deepens.
Jezebel: Well now. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.
The camera pans around to show the World Champion, Caledonia, scowling.
Jezebel: I must say, you are quite lovely. Television doesn’t do you justice.
Caledonia: Save it, bitch.
Jezebel: I prefer “jezebel.” An less-than-common slur for a woman, but in my case an appropriate choice…
Caledonia: I said save it.
Jezebel clucks her tongue.
Jezebel (mockingly): Is this about earlier?
Caledonia: Stay the hell away from MJ.
Jezebel: Now, now, is that any way to show your gratitude? I would have thought that an attack on MJ Flair would only serve to help you.
Caledonia: If you think a beating from you and Anthony is enough to take down MJ Flair, then you don’t know her. And besides that, I don’t want any favors from scum like you.
Jezebel: You wound me, Caledonia. Here I was hoping we could be friends.
Caledonia: Go to hell. And back off. Ouroboros has a problem with me, they can face me. Don’t try and play mind games using my friends. Do I make myself understood?
The two women stare down, Caledonia irate and Jezebel still smirking.
Jezebel: So be it.
She turns to go, a considerable swagger in her movements. Before she rounds a corner, she turns back to the World Champion.
Jezebel: You know… I’d never seen you this close before. Your eyes… aren’t what I was thinking they might be.
Caledonia’s look of anger gives way to one of confusion, as Jezebel walks away.
Mike Rolash: I still can't believe that Mikey Unlikely is here! In CWF! This is SUCH a boost for this place!
Jim Gunt: OK, ok, get your knickers back out of their twist there, Mikey - oh my God, I think I just figured out why you are gushing about him so much... Ugh!
Mike Rolash: What? It's a beautiful name!
Jim Gunt: Moving on...Eclipse and commissioner Ataxia already do not seem to see eye to eye and this whole Ouroboros thing is becoming stranger and stranger... But on to the big return of Andy Murray, Ray, let them in!
Ray Douglas: The following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Aberdeen, Scotland and weighing in at 280lbs...Andy Murray!
"Black Mass" by Electric Wizard begins to play and the entire arena of fans make it known that Andy Murray is more than welcome as he makes his way to the ring.
Jim Gunt: Hear that crowd. Though he's only been here for a short while, Andy Murray has more than impressed the CWF Universe.
Ray Douglas: And his opponent. From Atlanta, Georgia, one half of the Smokin' Aces and weighing in at 223lbs...Freddie Styles!
The crowd erupts into thunderous praise and adulation as the lights go down. All you see is a silhouette of a man, forming a diamond with his hands above his head as the opening riff hits...
You don't know what you're doing, doing, doing....
That's where you're wrong!
As the song moves into the verse, Freddie steps out from behind the curtain as he just stands there in his hooded vest, hood over his head, bouncing from side to side, before making his slow walk towards the ring.
I — will — not — lose
(You don't know what you're doing, doing, doing)
Put somethin' on it!
Freddie slowly walks up the ring steps, and steps through the ropes. He then stands on the middle rope, holding one arm above him, before stepping down, and leaning over in a corner. He takes the hood from off his head, then takes the vest off completely, tossing it to the floor, awaiting the beginning of the match
Jim Gunt: Andy Murray, winner of the Golden Intentions Rumble stepping into the ring with the ever impressive and enigmatic Freddie Styles. I frankly consider this the Main Event Part A.
Mike Rolash: Eh, I’ve seen better…
Referee Trent Robbins performs his obligatory check on the readiness of the two competitors, then without further ado motions for the bell and the match is under way. Neither Andy, nor Freddie, waste any time and advance on each other to meet in the centre of the ring. Andy reaches forward for a grapple but Freddie ducks underneath, swinging himself behind the self-proclaimed King of Wrestling and rolling him up with a school boy pin.
Andy breaks free!
Mike Rolash: What the hell just happened?
Jim Gunt: Freddie Styles almost ended the match before it could really begin.
Unsurprisingly Andy Murray is taken aback by the near loss, looking at his opponent in amazement. Freddie just shrugs it off and motions for Andy to step up once more. The King responds with his own challenge, one Mr Ballgame is more than happy to accept and rushes forward.
Jim Gunt: Two proud warriors, a veritable clash of titans here tonight!
Prepared for the charge, Andy surprises Freddie with a hip toss, but Styles uses his speed and agility to recover and uses the momentum of the text-book move, landing perfectly on his feet and taking Andy to the mat with a backslide pin.
Andy breaks free!
Mike Rolash: Again?!
Jim Gunt: Freddie Styles is on form tonight. Andy Murray is struggling to keep up.
The King doesn’t miss a beat, recovering quickly and not letting the second abrupt near fall bother him. He barrels into Freddie Styles, forcing Mr. Ballgame back into a nearby corner. Andy drives his solid shoulder into the abdomen of his opponent…Once…Twice…Thrice…then flips the switch and connects with a jaw-jarring European uppercut.
Mike Rolash: Freddie ain’t so fast if you get him in a corner and beat the snot out of him.
An Irish whip has Freddie in an opposing corner and Andy Murray is not far behind and in hot pursuit. Styles manages to leap to the side and out of the firing line. Andy also is able to avoid danger, halting his momentum and stopping himself before colliding with the steel corner post. He turns around quickly and dips his shoulder to take Freddie Styles over the ring ropes with a back body drop. Yet again the ever agile Mr. Ballgame reacts in time to avoid a crash landing to the outside, and instead lands perfectly and stable on the ring apron. Freddie swings at Andy with a wild right, which is summarily blocked by the King. Andy retaliates with a forearm to the face of his opponent.
Jim Gunt: I’m having trouble keeping up. Neither wrestler is able to maintain any semblance of an offensive advantage.
Freddie is rocked by the strike but doesn’t go anywhere as Andy grasps him firmly and forcibly brings Mr. Ballgame back into the ring with an impressive biel throw, coming down upon the fallen Freddie Styles with a running elbow drop. He hooks the leg.
Mike Rolash: Freddie may be quick, but Andy Murray hits frigging HARD!
Freddie kicks out!
Jim Gunt: But Freddie is no stranger to such treatment. He can take a good hit.
Andy has his arms wrapped around the recovering form of Freddie Styles and dead-lifts him up, setting up for a german suplex. Styles regains sense enough to try desperately and valiantly against the imposing grip of his opponent. Surprisingly Mr. Ballgame halts the manoeuvre and counters into a victory roll. Or at least he would have if the King hadn’t countered in kind, denying the pinning combination and finishing what he started by executing the german suplex to fulfilment.
Jim Gunt: How much of this do you reckon is a statement directed at Caledonia? Putting her on notice?
Mike Rolash: That’s if she’s still champion after tonight. It could be MJ in her place.
Jim Gunt: Good point…
This time as Andy Murray presses his advantage to accost his opponent some more, Freddie is ready for him, tagging him with a series of swift left and right strikes, culminating in a spinning backfist, which Andy manages to duck beneath. However Styles isn’t about to let his opponent off the hook that easy and flips back through the air, landing a sudden and thunderous pele kick that the King isn’t able to avoid and crumples to the mat.
Jim Gunt: How would Andy Murray feel coming into his title match if he lost here tonight? What would that mean for Freddie if he walked away the victor?
Mike Rolash: Jim…I’m nowhere near drunk enough for such insightful questions. Let’s just enjoy this match.
Freddie quickly puts some distance between himself and the momentarily fallen Andy, taking the opportunity to gather his breath and bearings. He pulls himself onto the top of the turnbuckle he uses as a rest spot and the second Andy Murray is back to his feet, Mr. Ballgame is sailing through the air, coming down upon his opponent with a picture-perfect crossbody block and holding on for a pin attempt.
The King of Wrestling kicks out!
Mike Rolash: Is no one going to point out the fact both Andy Murray and Christian STARR claim to be the King of Wrestling?
As if in punishment for kicking out, Freddie executes a lightning fast snap DDT on Andy before the Golden Intentions winner has a chance to blink, let alone recover. And Freddie goes for yet ANOTHER cover attempt.
Andy Murray rolls his shoulder, barely breaking the pin in time.
Jim Gunt: Freddie has certainly upped his game here tonight.
Still unable to conclusively put his opponent away, Freddie ups the ante, distancing himself from the stirring form of Andy Murray, giving him room to move and pick up momentum for the ATL Stomp. Freddie comes running in, but at the last possible second the King of Wrestling shifts his position and catches Mr. Ballgame off-guard with the Earthshaker. However the sudden burst of energy passes as quickly as it appears, leaving Andy slow to move and capitalise on the signature technique with a cover.
Jim Gunt: He calls that the Earthshaker and with enough impact I could see why.
Freddie Styles manages to get his shoulder up.
Mike Rolash: STILL kicking?
Jim Gunt: There are no Flugelhorns here!
Andy Murray, the King of Wrestling, plants a knee in the gut, doubling Freddie Styles over as he slowly finds his feet, in preparation for the Highland Hangover. Andy lifts up his opponent, moments away from driving him down to the mat for the finish. Mr. Ballgame struggles to loosen the grip, managing to wriggle free and drop down behind the King. He whips Andy Murray around for Dat Remix, but falters under the strain and exhaustion of the match, unable to follow up with a cover.
Jim Gunt: Both competitors will surely be running on empty by now. Going to be hard to put the other away if they haven’t got it in them to follow through and capitalise.
Both competitors slowly and gradually make their way back to their feet. Andy lashes out with a wild, yet weak right hand. Freddie retaliates in kind…Then another exchange…and another…and another…
Jim Gunt: With such a distinct disparity between height and weight, Freddie has had to rely on his speed and agility, which works so long as you can put your opponent down. As it is, he’s tiring out and fast.
The King of Wrestling lashes out with yet another right hand strike, this time Freddie ducks. In the blink of an eye Freddie clasps his hands around the leg of his opponent, rolling through to expertly apply his patented match-ending submission technique, the Addiction.
Mike Rolash: Smart and quick thinking by Mr. Ballgame. As loathed as I am to speak highly of him. Even if Freddie can’t make Andy submit, he might be able to take the leg out from under him, slow him down and weaken him.
The expression on Andy’s face is clear that he is most definitely feeling the strain of the submission, though he remains adamant in his refusal to call it quits and tap out. Fighting through the pressure and pain, Andy is able to use his strength to drag himself, and Freddie, doggedly tightening his grip, closer and closer, inch, by, inch, towards the nearby ring ropes.
Jim Gunt: He’s so damn close!
Freddie pre-empts the rope break, releasing his opponent a mere moment before Andy grabbed the rope and lands a running leg drop across the back of the King’s head. Mr. Ballgame drags his opponent into position then slowly and gingerly climbs atop the nearby turnbuckle. With a motion to the crowd, Freddie summons what reserves of energy and strength he can to launch himself into the air and somersault forward, coming down upon the King of Wrestling with the King of the Fall.
Jim Gunt: I don’t know how Freddie still has it in him for High-Risk!
Freddie Styles comes down and lands the 450 splash perfectly. Well perfectly, except for the fact he came down hard upon the raised knees of the King of Wrestling, Andy Murray.
Mike Rolash: Look out, we’re gonna see what Freddie had for dinner.
Andy Murray uses the ropes to climb back to his feet, the way he favours his leg evidence of the after-effects of Styles’ submission attempt. Almost with a limp, Andy grits his teeth as he advances on the hapless Freddie Styles, securing his hand and hoisting Mr. Ballgame up onto his shoulders. With a determined cry to fight back the pain in his leg and before he buckles, Andy connects with the GITB and drapes himself barely over the form of his opponent for a weak pin.
Jim Gunt: The GITB, will this do it?!
Mike Rolash: What does that even stand for?
Jim Gunt: Oh My-
Jim Gunt: -God! Andy Murray has done it!
Ray Douglas: And the winner is - ANDY MURRAY!
The Scot raises his arms and the crowd is deafening in its reaction to his first singles win since his return. He walks over to Freddie Styles and offers him a hand, which he accepts, pulling him back to his feet.
Jim Gunt: A nice show of sportsmanship as well here, good to see this still exists in this day and age!
The Forsaken have mustered together backstage to further discuss and plan to defend the fate and future of the CWF against the possibility of two threats. The very obvious machinations of Ouroboros of course, and the slights thrown at the federation by the members of the Golden Paradigm. The times ahead are most assuredly turbulent. The appearance of Zach at their doors pulls each member of the stable of unlikely defenders and guardians from their collaborations. Notably the young man is changed into casual street wear, with a duffel bag packed and tucked under his arm.
The Shadow: Young Zachary?
Zach: Ugh. I know doing the whole formal and proper thing is your schtick, Shang Tsung, but I glitch out any time someone calls me ‘Zachary’.
Both Amelia and Ataxia find considerable humour in this response, especially at the The Shadow’s confusion of the name ‘Shang Tsung’.
The Shadow: Very well. Zach it shall be.
Zach: Cheers. So ah…look.
Amelia: You’re leaving aren't you?! Or did you get a hot tip on finding Carmen Sandiego?
Ataxia: Badum da doom da doom chehhhh bawowpadowwwww...
The young Philly native loses his train of thought and stares momentarilly dumbfounded at Ataxia. With a shake of his head his senses return and he picks up where he left off.
Zach: I have to. After all, this is my Quest.
The Shadow: Are you sure about this? I do not mean just leaving, but accepting the challenge of Mr. Haze at Summer Games. It is clear the vile man means you incredible ill.
Zach: You guys have been incredibly supportive, a nice surprise in this messed up place. But there’s no mistaking I got a problem, and Xander is a fight I gotta face. I need to deal with him.
The Shadow: Of course, we understand.
Dorian Hawkhurst: Shadow’s right, we get it. Maybe me more than others. I’m still on my own quest, a quest that won’t end until I’m dead. You do what you gotta do. But yeah, we certainly get it, and hopefully, I’ll have erased Cassandra from the landscape by then. Whenever you’re ready to respawn, we’ll be here waiting.
Zach nods his appreciation.
Zach: Besides it’s getting awfully crowded in the CWF sky and I gotta get some air. So, I’m heading back to Philly. Not home mind you. THAT’S a battle for another day. But…it’s at least some where familiar. I’ll hit you guys up when I find my Save Point.
Dorian: My pad’s in Philly. You need a place to crash or just to hide away, just say the word and it’s done.
Zach: I’ll be popping into see some of my old gang, get back to my backyard roots. Who knows maybe it’ll reignite something.
From the tone of Zach’s voice, he isn’t so sure about that.
Zach: But I may just take you up on that.
Dorian claps the young man on the back.
Zach: There is one thing…a massive favour.
Ataxia: Fine. Ten pairs of autographed sandpaper underwear for you lil’ fella.
Everyone just shakes their head and ignores Ataxia.
The Shadow: What would you ask?
Zach: I can handle Xander, well…I’m not sure if I can really, but this is the path the story has taken. The real concern is Kreese. If you have any means to find him that would be epic. I just know he’ll be keeping Celia close. Problem is I don’t trust him anywhere near as far as I can throw him. It’s best if someone can keep tabs on him.
The Forsaken glance at each other, with hints of satisfaction and anticipation upon their faces. The decision is unanimous.
Amelia: Find Mr. Creepy Man? IT SHALL BE DONE!
Ataxia: Kidnap the Santy Claws!
Zach: Uh...Awesome. Thanks. Well I gotta a lot of preparing to do. So I guess I'll see you around.
Zach turns to leave. Amelia jabs The Shadow in the side, urging him to say something before Zach gets too far gone.
The Shadow: *Ahem* Zachar-ah-Zach wait.
Zach: Please don’t try and stop me.
The Shadow: Not my intent. I just deign to pass on some words of insight. I understand your anger, but do not let it cloud your judgement or dictate your actions. You are not Xander or John Kreese. You are better than they are. And in this battle, do not lose sight of the real fight, your true Demons. For they still await you.
Zach: Yeah…I know.
The Shadow: What you may not realise however, is that in order for you to defeat one Demon, you must first confront that one which lies much closer to your heart.
Zach: And people say I say some weird stuff…Do you come with a translation dlc?
The rest of the Forsaken just playfully shrug.
The Shadow: Just…keep it in your mind.
Zach nods and once again turns to leave, achieving as much as he did the first time, hesitating while still in the doorway. Though this time it’s of his own fruition.
Zach: Oh and guys…Thanks.
With that he is gone.
Jim Gunt: Damn, The Forsaken are literally everywhere tonight! But Zach definitely can use all the help he can get!
Mike Rolash: And Eclipse against Ataxia, finally someone, who could wipe the floor with the smug bastard!
Jim Gunt: Impartial as ever, I see... Anyways, we are almost at the end, there is just one thing left - our main event, Caledonia, MJ Flair, the Heavyweight title, can't wait to see how this one is going to play out!
Mike Rolash: Yeah, yeah, the two biggest lightweights for the HEAVYweight title. We get it...
Ray Douglas: The following contest is our MAIN EVENT, and it is for the CWF World Heavyweight Championship!
Even before either entrance begins, the crowd goes wild in anticipation of the long-awaited rematch.
Ray Douglas: Introducing first -
Smash the Control Machine by OTEP blares, and Mariella Jade Flair steps onto the stage to tumultuous applause.
Ray Douglas: From Warwick, New York - EMMMM… JAY…FLAIR!
Jim Gunt: The last time these two women faced off, the roles were reversed - MJ Flair was the Champion, and Caledonia the number one contender. Will we see another reversal here tonight?
Mike Rolash: Obviously not: if MJ wins, the number one contender is still Andy Murray, and Caledonia’s just another competitor.
Jim Gunt: You knew what the fuck I meant.
Mike Rolash: Besides, do you think she can even walk straight, let alone wrestle well, after the brawls she's already been in tonight? Seriously, she should be banned from Golden Corral, and yet here we are in our Main Event.
Jim Gunt: Will you stop?
The lights in the arena dim, and blue spotlights swing around. ‘Day and Night’ by Billie Piper hits, and the crowd goes ballistic. The World Champion walks out onto the stage, the title around her waist, and she strikes a pose at the top of the ramp.
Ray Douglas: And from London, England, she is the World Heavyweight Champion - CALEDONIA!
Jim Gunt: Undefeated for thirteen matches running, Caledonia Highlander is looking to keep that streak alive tonight!
Referee Denny Davidson raises the belt in the air, and the two women shake hands before circling each other. They lock up in the center of the ring; while MJ seems initially to have the upper hand, Caledonia manages a Snapmare, throwing MJ Flair to the ground. The challenger smirks and gets back to her feet, locking up with Caledonia again only to be thrown once again with an arm drag. Her face betrays a hint of frustration as she rises to her feet. MJ and Caledonia circle once again, locking up in the center of the ring - this time, MJ Flair is able to throw a headlock on Caledonia, who attempts to escape but is unable to.
MJ Flair throws Caledonia to the ground, maintaining the headlock and getting into a pinning position, but Caledonia is able to kick out quickly and reverse the headlock into a headscissors.
Mike Rolash: Ah, now that’s what I like to see!
Jim Gunt: You’re disgusting.
MJ is able to counter the headscissors, clambering into position to spring over Caledonia for a bridging pin.
ONE... TWO... KICKOUT!
Caledonia rises, wriggling out of the bridge and attempting an armbar, but MJF is able to counter, throwing the Champion with an arm drag of her own. Caledonia is quickly back up to one knee, and the two stare each other down as the crowd cheers. Caledonia nods at MJ, who gives a smile just a few degrees shy of a smirk, before the two slap five and resume circling each other.
Jim Gunt: Now that’s something you don’t see all that often. Pure sportspersonlike conduct.
Mike Rolash: Are you channeling Andre the Giant?
Jim Gunt: That would be inconceivable!
The two women lock up, and test each others’ strength. Caledonia gains the upper hand, pushing MJ to the ropes - and the two fall to the outside of the ring! They rise, with MJF making it back into the ring first. Caledonia clutches her tailbone, and rolls back into the ring.
Jim Gunt: That may not have gone exactly as Caledonia planned!
They lock up again, and this time it is MJ who gains the upper hand, getting Caledonia into an armbar and throwing her into the turnbuckle. The Champion staggers forward and the challenger gets her into a backslide pin!
ONE... TWO... Kickout!
Caledonia rolls forward and makes a pin attempt of her own, but MJ swiftly kicks out. Cali whips her into the ropes, but MJ reverses, setting up for a backdrop - but Caledonia flips over her, landing in a sitout pin!
ONE... TWO... Kickout!
MJ counters, jumping forward into a pin of her own, but Caledonia is able to reverse it for a near fall - that MJ counters into a two-count! The two rise, and MJ grabs Caledonia, slamming her down with a spinebuster! One legdrop later, and MJ goes for the cover!
ONE... TWO... Kickout!
Jim Gunt: Neither one of these women able to put the other away!
MJ Flair puts Caledonia into a reverse chinlock, wrenching the Champion’s arms backwards! Caledonia is able to rise to her feet and break the hold, but the hungry challenger throws her back with a Snap Suplex!
ONE... TWO... Kickout!
MJ clobbers Caledonia over her back, and the Champion looks to be in trouble! MJF gets her in a reverse headlock!
Jim Gunt: She’s setting up the Morning Star!
But just as MJF looks to nail her finisher and reclaim the World Title - Caledonia is able to switch the lock and Reverse the Polarity!
ONE... TWO... Kickout!
As MJ kips up, Caledonia clotheslines her, knocking her back down! MJ Flair is right back up, but Caledonia grabs her around the back of the neck and, putting her boot into the challenger’s stomach, throws MJ across the ring into the turnbuckle! She follows up with a Big Splash, and as MJ staggers forward, Caledonia runs up the ropes - QUEEN’S GAMBIT!
ONE... TWO... THREEKICKOUT!
Caledonia hauls MJ to her feet, but almost immediately throws her back in a Dragon Suplex. The Champion kips up, and throws the rising MJ Flair into the ropes. The challenger reverses the whip, grabbing Caledonia for a scoop slam - but the champion counters with a hurricanrana takedown! Both women rise to their feet. MJ boots Caledonia in the stomach and whips her into the ropes, setting up for a back body drop - but the Champion is able to get behind her, locking in a Sleeper hold!
Jim Gunt: This could be it! If Caledonia can lock in the rest of the Bed of Roses, this’ll be it for MJ Flair!
But it is not it - the crowd abruptly boos, and Caledonia looks surprised. She maintains the hold, but her attention goes to the top of the ramp - where Elisha has emerged!
Jim Gunt: It’s the Moonchild!
Mike Rolash: He’s alone… and that’s making me nervous because he’s never alone!
As Caledonia looks up and her eyes meet Elisha’s, her grip appears to loosen for the briefest of moments. It’s in that fraction of a second that MJ steps back and flips the Champion over her shoulder, and locks in a submission of her own!
Jim Gunt: The Message locked in!
Caledonia’s face is contorted with agony as MJ applies pressure on the double wristlock submission. She struggles to break free of the hold, but MJ is utterly relentless!
Mike Rolash: There’s nowhere for Caledonia to turn!
Jim Gunt: Will the Champion tap out?
Mike Rolash: I don’t know--but I was right, he’s not alone!
Boos rain down on the ring as Choronzon, Revenant, Jezebel and Judas all emerge from different points of the crowd, and they each take a side of the ring!
Jim Gunt: MJ looking around at the Ouroboros outside the ring, but she’s still got Caledonia locked up!
Mike Rolash: Considering everything that’s gone down already tonight between Flair, Caledonia, and the Ouroboros - are you surprised by this?
Jim Gunt: I’m surprised that MJ is still holding on to the submission hold, as this is clearly going to be worse if Caledonia can’t defend herself!
Finally, seeing the numbers, MJ lets Caledonia go. The Champion instinctively spins around in a defensive pose, but quickly assesses as well and the women circle, back to back. Denny Davidson warns the Ouroboros against laying a hand on either competitor… but he may as well be talking to a quartet of deaf men and women; he has no chance.
Jim Gunt: CHORONZON TO THE RING APRON! Judas attacks from behind!
Mike Rolash: Elisha is gone! I hate when he does that!
Judas hammers MJ to her knees, and when Caledonia attempts to get between them, she’s flattened by a lariat from Jezebel! Choronzon and Revenant enter the ring and grab the CWF World Champion from behind, each restraining an arm!
Jim Gunt: Jezebel with a slap to Caledonia’s face! Denny Davidson calling for the bell, I think he’s thrown this one out completely, but who does that help?
Mike Rolash: I’ll tell you who it helps - Mikey Rolash! Time for some girl on girl on girl action!
Behind Jezebel, Judas pulls MJ to her knees by the hair - MJ with a low blow! The fans come to life as Judas doubles over, but they’re quickly silenced as Jezebel drags MJ a few feet over by the hair to keep her off balance, pulls her to her feet, and throws her as hard as she can at the corner where she flies between the top and middle turnbuckle pads, and she crashes hard into the ring post!
Mike Rolash: Flair, of course, has to ruin my fun. This is why people hate you!
As Choronzon and Revenant land a pair of fists into the World Champion’s stomach, Jezebel gets back into position - Caledonia with a boot to her stomach! Another! Revenant and Choronzon lift her and drop her neck first over the top rope!
Mike Rolash: Really, Ray? Ringing the bell? Really?
Jim Gunt: Someone’s coming!
Like the flick of a switch, the fans switch from boos to cheers on a dime.
“LET’S GO HELP OUR FRANDS!”
Jim Gunt: It’s Ataxia!
Mike Rolash: Ataxia, hell! It’s the Forsaken!
The new CWF Commissioner, Ataxia, leads the charge to ringside, with Dorian Hawkhurst right behind him. The CWF World Tag Team Champions, Amelia and The Shadow, follow - albeit much more slowly following their earlier tag team match.
Jim Gunt: Ataxia under the bottom rope, and he flattens Revenant with a discus punch!
Mike Rolash: Is… is he wearing a bow tie?
Jim Gunt: And what looks like a toupee attached to his burlap sack!
Mike Rolash: Check please.
The Shadow and Amelia finally reach ringside, with The Shadow taking a moment to assess the situation before sliding under the rope. Amelia starts to climb, notices the camera near her, and pulls it in closely.
Amelia: We warned you not to fuck with the crazies!
Jim Gunt: It’s pandemonium!
With the numbers game now stacked against the Ouroboros, Caledonia is able to recover her senses, and she wastes no time in rushing Jezebel, clotheslining her over the top! Amelia is trading blows with Judas in the corner, Dorian Hawkhurst and Ataxia are chopping down Choronzon, and The Shadow is defending himself against Revenant’s onslaught! MJ Flair pushes her way out of the corner, her bloodied face now fully busted open.
Once again, the fans react to the entrance way: though the reaction is loud, it contains a mixture of boos that weren’t there when the Forsaken entered.
Jim Gunt: MJ Flair wearing the crimson mask - ERIC DANE IS HERE!
Mike Rolash: And he’s not alone!
At the entrance to the arena, Eric Dane, Bronson Box, and Pete Whealdon enter, and they stop at the top, looking out at the ring. Dane appears to be a bit worse for the wear like Amelia and The Shadow, though Bronson Box appears wholly unaffected.
Jim Gunt: But whose side are they on?
Mike Rolash: My guess would be their own!
The trio begin to walk towards the ring, though they do not appear to be in any kind of hurry.
Jim Gunt: The Shadow over the top rope! Judas joins him!
Mike Rolash: The Shadow’s moving at half speed, he’s still feeling it!
Jim Gunt: Amelia immediately double axe handles Revenant! Caledonia with a scoop on Jezebel!
Mike Rolash: Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together - mass hysteria!
Jim Gunt: Really?
Caledonia whips Jezebel into the ring steps, and she runs after her a few steps behind! Jezebel hits the steps and collapses on top of the lower level, and Caledonia jumps over and drops a leg on her shoulder blades! The Champ rolls through and pulls herself up to her feet -
Jim Gunt: Caledonia just accidentally shoved Bronson Box! BRONSON BOX WITH A CLOTHESLINE JUST FLATTENED THE CWF WORLD CHAMPION!
Boos rain out over the arena at the hit. Inside the ring, Choronzon throws Ataxia through the ropes while MJ jumps on his back and tries to choke him out, and Hawkhurst fires away into his chest and face as the two try to chop down the leader of the Chosen.
Jim Gunt: ANDY MURRAY JUST RAN OVER BRONSON BOX!
Mike Rolash: ERIC DANE WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX ON ANDY MURRAY!
Jim Gunt: Andy Murray may be an alumnus from long ago here in the CWF, but he’s wrestled all over the world and has plenty of scores to settle - perhaps none more vicious from his long career than against Bronson Box, or against Eric Dane!
In the ring, finally, Choronzon kicks Dorian Hawkhurst in the lower abdomen and backs MJ into the corner, loosening her grip enough for him to flip her over his shoulder! Hawkhurst recovers and charges Choronzon with a clothesline, and both men flip over the top!
Jim Gunt: Amelia whips Judas into the ropes, and a backdrop sends him over the top and out of the ring! Eric Dane slides under the bottom rope, and he sends Amelia after Judas!
Mike Rolash: Not her, Dane. HER.
Eric Dane takes a moment to watch Amelia land, and that’s enough time for MJ Flair to rise to her feet, and the Final Boss turns around!
Face. To. Face.
Mike Rolash: Now hit her!
Dane smirks, while MJ wipes the blood from her face and absently flicks it to the mat. He takes a step towards her, and she follows his lead! The fans are on their feet as Dane and MJ are literally nose to nose and the tension is practically unbearable.
Finally, Dane smiles.
Eric Dane: What’d I tell ya about distractions?
He motions all around them.
Eric Dane: Eyes on the fuckin’ prize, kid.
MJ’s eyes narrow, then they suddenly go wide as she stares at Dane.
No… not at him.
Jim Gunt: Andy Murray in the ring! He rears back with his fist -
-And he stops short, with MJ standing between his attack and Dane! Murray looks confused, his eyes moving back and forth between Dane and MJ.
Finally, to a chorus of boos, security makes their way to ringside to maintain order.
Jim Gunt: Caledonia is up, and she’s back in the ring with her Championship! Murray steps back from her, and we’ve got a four way standoff! Caledonia and Andy Murray and Eric Dane and MJ Flair! The history in the ring right now is unprecedented! Andy Murray and Eric Dane's issues span promotions, Eric Dane and MJ Flair's issues are generational, Caledonia and MJ Flair are friends and rivals, and I believe this is the first time Caledonia herself is coming face to face with her number one contender!
Mike Rolash: And the Forsaken, and the Ouroboros… The Golden Paradigm and Ataxia’s weird toupee.
Jim Gunt: Caledonia raises the CWF World Championship title above her head, and these fans are losing their minds! What does this mean for Summer Games? We’re outta time!
The four in the ring maintain their defensive poses, with MJ and Caledonia backing off together, though nobody else in the ring giving the slightest hint of trust towards anyone else, and we fade to black.
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."