Post by The Commissioner on May 12, 2020 15:09:15 GMT -5
Slow fade into the text in bold white letters: ‘SOMEWHERE: 6 MAY 2020, 6:55PM.’
A haggard, bruised big Homunculus stumbles aimlessly through a suburban area talking to the camera as he does so. His facial hair and what's left of his head hair are starting to grow a little wildly. He wears only a loin cloth.
Big Homunculus
I know I'm not a winner, but I'm not a loser. I just came second. There were, uh, a hundred wrestlers on that night and I came second, that's all. There's only one loser and that's Braderick Bross. Closing out the show getting beaten down by a part time mother who barely even towers over a dwarf like me? Utterly embarrassing, I would retire if I were in such a scenario. Fighting can calm the horror in my brain until it doesn't. Until it doesn't. What a man needs is his tribe.
Big H sees a woman and two children walking along innocently and intensely sprints towards them.
Big Homunculus
Are you a mother? Do you have a family?
The woman speaks with an Irish accent.
Random woman:
Er, yes I suppose.
Big Homunculus
I need a mother, please let me join your clan. I don't take up much room, I'll fit in your handbag.
Big Homunculus attempts to jump into her handbag however face plants on the floor before hopping back to his feet.
Random woman:
Oh dear. I already have children, as you can see. Two is plenty, haha!
Big Homunculus grins, picks up her children and throws them into the sky.
Big Homunculus:
Problem solved, now please roast me a boar I am famished.
She shrieks and tries to catch her children as they eventually fall from the sky.
Big Homunculus
You are hysterical and do not have what it takes to be a mother.
Big H gets back to walking and talking to the camera.
Big Homunculus
What was I saying? Ah yes there is only one true loser and his name is Groderick Loss for certain! I merely came second. I know now that I am not a winner but having seen that man crumble at the hands of the diminutive Sasha Foote I know what a true loser looks like, and he is far too gargantuan to ever be me. Seeing someone struggle with a smaller opponent gives me great joy, for I know I am their kryptonite.
As if to illustrate how tiny he is, Big Homunculus plucks an apple from a tree without even reaching and swallows it whole without chewing.
Big Homunculus
I hate when the stem scratches my organs. Once I have removed Droterick Loss from the redemption royale, I will soon follow, for I am not a winner. How can I be a winner I do not have a heart in my body, or more accurately, in my corner. Bret Hart has made his allegiances clear. He lets personal relationships and recency bias factor into his mindset and doesn't think of all the work I have done for him over the long history of this brand new organisation. In leaving me out of his 14-person top ten wrestlers of the week he showed me great disrespect.
Big Homunculus approaches a house and climbs through the window, the camera follows.
Big Homunculus
On the other hand if Bret Hart does not see me as a winner, why should I disrespect the views of a legend? Once I have effortlessly tossed Trotadick Loss from the royale with my patented Pygmy's Push, I shall jump the top rope, march to Hart's location and watch with him, to hopefully see what he sees and find out what a winner really looks like. While the boss disrespects me, I will not risk my health attempting to quarrel with wrestlers who could potentially harm me. Bret Hart will rue the day he crossed this Pygmy.
Homunculus sees a picture of a middle aged woman with a young lad.
Big Homunculus
I am in the correct house. Wait here while i delve into the basement.
Big H runs downstairs while the camera pans along several pictures. In each picture the woman gets older along with the young lad, until the young lad is an adult recognisable as Roderick Kross. Homunculus sprints out of the basement and rushes towards the nearest window.
Big Homunculus
Quick, make haste!
Big Homunculus launches himself through a window, followed by the camera man and sprints for his mobility scooter getaway vehicle. The camera man hops on the back of it but spins around to see the house they were just in completely explode.
Big Homunculus
I don't know why that explosion happened. I might just blame a binman.
As that piece hits a minute five seconds in, the PrimeTime logo animates to life in the forefront of all the ensuing action before flashing into the Bell Centre’s sold out capacity crowd. In an instant pyrotechnics are flaring off around the arena with different styled fireworks on display than from a week before, the cameras cutting to keep up. After the display, the cameras take to ringside where the commentary booth is almost as we left it aside from the difference in clothing, occupied by Candian professional wrestling legends Lance Storm and Christian Cage. Their nameplates flash across the screen and Christian Cage takes to bringing the show in for a second week in the row, just before Lance Storm can manage his first words.
Christian Cage: MY PEEPS have returned for another edition of Tuesday Night PrimeTime, hosted by yours truly - Captain Charisma, Canadian Rage, the Suicide Blonde, the PEEP-le’s Champion...
Christian’s arms extend similarly to the start of last week, covering Lance’s face.
Christian Cage: CHRISTIAN! CAGE!
Lance Storm’s face is visible again as the arms fall back to his side.
Lance Storm: We started the show with footage that has become important here in the Alberta Wrestling Federation in the last six days. While nothing through the recorded video shows evidence of any crime, as you may know, many of the promos and vignettes you watch weekly here on PrimeTime are pre-taped segment distributed amongst competitors in the build to the show, and when this footage was shown to Roderick Kross - lets just say thing did not go so well.
Christian Cage: Why not be honest, Storm? I put my ass on the line for this kid last week vouching for him, only for him to not only lose but walk away and quit from a situation like this?! I’ll tell you, it’s definitely not 2001 anymore.
Lance Storm: Bret Hart and the Commissioner Booker T have taken great measures to ensure the safety of us all here at the Bell Centre in Montreal, with security guards surrounding Homunculus at all times backstage and the promise of the same guards staying behind the curtain during his match. That also means, obviously, Roderick Kross will not be competing in tonight’s battle royale.
Christian Cage: I guess Kross is gonna feel real stupid knowing this news that just came around this morning: the winner of that battle royale not only qualifies for the Provincial Championship tournament, but they skip the first round with a bye!
Lance Storm: The Redemption Royale has just gotten that much more important for these men. But with that all out of the way, we are just about ready to kick the night off. But first, the Best Friends got themselves into quite the situation on the Canadian freeways this past week.
The show’s first crossfade, into a scene from the middle of last week.
Trans-Canada Highway
Somewhere in southern Saskatchewan, Canada
10 AM
A very used, crusty, white 1995 Pontiac Sunfire GT flys down the highway. In the driver’s seat sits Trent Beretta wearing a red tank top with a white cyclone pattern and black short shorts like a marathon runner. The passenger seat sits Chuck Taylor, wearing a black tank top with a white seismic wave tremur pattern across the belly, and red short shorts. Smashed into the back, because Trent and Chuck sit with their seats pushed all the way back, sits Orange Cassidy in his usual denim on denim garb. By his feet sits a white megaphone with red hearts poorly sharpied on.
Trent
Alright boys, we’re… (checks his old school fold out map) ….not even halfway there. Why did Bruce make his second show the opposite side of Canada? If I knew we would have to drive across the country in a week I would have gotten something less cramped.
Trent looks through the mirror and locks sunglass eyes with Orange Cassidy.
Trent
Hey! What did I say about not letting the bit die?
Trent reaches on the floor behind him while driving fumbling around. He grabs the megaphone and forces it into OC’s lap.
Trent
Take it! It won’t make sense unless we’re all participating.
Trent drops the megaphone on OC’s lap and faces back forward as the Trans Canada highway turns into Victoria Avenue.
Chuck
Man, I can’t believe they can name a town this.
Trent
What?
Chuck
(Pointing to a sign) Vagina!
Trent
It says Regina. We’re in Regina Saska..saskatch..sassaska.. seskatchu...We’re in Regina Canada.
Chuck’s stomach groans loudly.
Chuck
Well does Ra-ji-nuh have any food?
The car drives by a Tim Horton’s.
Trent
I mean there has to be something in this city.
The car drives by another Tim Horton’s.
Trent
We’ll get food soon, but I need to fill this tank up.
The car drives by another Tim Horton's then peels off Victoria Avenue and into a Co-Op Gas Station. Trent gets out of his seat, as OC climbs over to the front but has the door slammed on his face. He turns and crawls across the seat to exit the passenger side, but Chuck shuts the door on him as well. OC climbs back to his original seat.
Chuck
I still need some food Trent.
Trent
(Finishing filling the tank) Well let’s see if they have any inside.
Trent and Chuck make their way inside the station. Inside the car OC is sitting in the backseat. He wiggles around as the middle seat loosens revealing it folds out accessing the trunk. He squeezes through and pops the trunk open, finally freeing himself from the tiny car. Inside the gas station Chuck is dropping bags of candy and chips on the clerks counter.
Chuck
I mean, this is fine, but I need some real food. We should check out one of those Tom Horton’s everybody talks about, I haven’t seen any yet but I’m sure Vagina has one.
Trent
Tim Horton’s is fine, but I mean, it’s no Dunkin though.
Everybody in the shop freezes dropping what they’re doing, including the cashier.
Store Clerk
Excuse me?
Trent
What? Just saying Dunkin Donuts is better. I mean, America runs on Dunkin.
Random Customer
(Talking really fast) Well Canada runs on Timmies, so why doont you fuck off with your fat ass krispy kreme knockoff donut bullshit there bud and get yourself some real coffee eh?
Trent
(Puzzled) What?
Another Customer
(Talking really fast) Yeah bud it’s aboot time you forgot your store bought starbucks reject muffins and go get yourself a bagel BLT and a side of timbits and tell me who the real king of breakfast is there bud?
Trent
(Looking at Chuck confused) I have, no idea what you’re saying right now.
Store Clerk
Fuck Dunkin!
Trent
Well fuck you! Do you realize who you’re talking to? I am the mayor of Dunkin! I would die for Dunkin Donuts.
Customer
Well why don’t you take these nuts-
Everybody is shouting over each other as the customers slowly approach Trent and Chuck.
Chuck
Stop! Okay. We’ll go get Tommies
Customer far away shouting
It’s timmies you prick!
Chuck
We’ll go get, Timmies. How do we get there?
Store Clerk
Oh that’s easy there bud just rip down the grid right there aye, but don’t forget to make sure you have your bunny hug on because it’s at least minus 20 out there. But if you really want to have a jig you can rip into town and pick up a two-six to pair with your timbits eh?
Trent
What?
Store Clerk
Just google it asshole.
Trent and Chuck leave the store empty handed, and get back into the car. They drive away and head into town, with an empty backseat.
About 20 minutes later...
The same 1995 White Sunfire is tearing eastward on the Trans-Canada Highway.
Chuck
I don't know why they called this place Balgonie, I don't see any sandwich meat here.
Trent
What?
Chuck
What?
The awkward exchange is interrupted by Chuck Taylor rummaging around his feet, in a plastic bag filled with all sorts of snacks and junk food, eventually pulling out a family sized bag of Ruffles All Dressed, something the pair hasn't seen before coming to Canada. Chuck opens the bag, and starts eating.
Trent
Where did you get those? I thought we left that Gas Station with nothing?
Chuck
I snuck a bag under my shirt before walking out, and I'm glad I did, these are pretty good, the Canadians make some pretty good snacks.
Trent
Let me try some of those.
Chuck takes out a singular chip, and feeds it to Trent, doing so with such precision, making one think that this is a normal occurrence on their road trips. Chuck lets out a small sigh.
Chuck
This drive has sucked ever since we crossed the border into Saskwatchtown. I mean, have we gone over a single hill or anything? This has to be the flattest 5 hours I have ever experienced. What do you think Orange?
No answer comes from the backseat, not even a single, "I dunno" or "Meh".
Chuck
Orange? I said what do you think?
After no answer follows his question again, Chuck looks back to see an empty seat.
Chuck
Orange?
Chuck's eyes look at the entire backseat, with Orange Cassidy no where to be found. He starts looking behind the Driver and Passenger seats, even going as far as trying to look under the seats, but finds nothing but empty soda cans and fast food paper bags. Chuck looks at Trent, then doing a double, triple, and quadruple take between the backseat and Trent.
Chuck
Uh, Trent, Orange isn't back there.
Trent
What do you mean, he's right-
Trent looks into his rear view mirror, but stops mid sentence after seeing nothing.
Trent
Where is he?
Chuck
If I knew he wouldn't be missing right now! Turn around, we have to go back! He must've gotten out at the Gas Station we were at! I said TURN AROUND!
Chuck reaches over Trent and jerks the wheel to the left, forcing the car to spins out and tail whip multiple times. The All Dressed Chips go flying around the car. Trent puts the car in park after they stop.
Trent
What are you doing? You almost killed us!
Chuck tries to hide a few tears that stream down his face. His voice starts getting shakier and shakier.
Chuck
We have to hurry up! He's one half of the Best Friends! What if something happened to him? What if some crazy Sackachewon hillbilly's got him? I want to find him fast, I miss him already!
Trent
It's OK Dustin we'll go find him OK? I'm sure he's doing fine, cheer up pal.
Trent grabs the back of Chucks neck, and brings his head down so he can kiss the top of his head. Trent puts the car back in drive and starts to backtrack down the highway. After 5 minutes or so, they start pulling back into the perimeter of Regina. As they are driving through, Chuck sees the post office in the middle of town.
Chuck
Let's go in there and see if they've seen him, maybe he tried to follow us.
Trent pulls the car into the parking lot, and Chuck hurriedly runs in, followed by Trent. Chuck bursts through the door and sees an elderly man working at the front desk.
Chuck
HaveyouseenmyfriendOrangeCassidyhesabout5foot10inchesandheswearingadenimjacketandsunglasseswelosthiminreginaatagasstationandwereallyneedtofindhimand-
Chuck is talking so fast that his entire monologue seems to be one very large word, with tears now streaming down his face. The man just looks confused at the pair.
Elderly Man
I'm sorry son I don't-
Trent cuts the man off.
Trent
What my best friend is trying to ask, is have you seen a lazy looking man wearing sun glasses and a denim jacket come through here? Is there any reports of anyone seeing someone like that?
The man just shakes his head.
Elderly Man
No Sir, no reports on anything. Although, maybe your friends still in the car have a lead, looks like they are in a hurry too.
Trent and Chuck both look back in the parking lot, only to see the White car kicking up gravel as it leaves the parking lot, and out of sight. Kolotov is at the wheel, wide eyes pressed on the road ahead, as him and his brother Alaric, sat in the passenger seat, laugh and guffaw in their forced Transylvanian accents.
Alaric
Those fangless fools! On their little exploration through the land of Tim Horton's, entirely oblivious to the impending doom brought by the Vampire Twins lurking in the shadows!
Kolotov
Coconuts! Utter coconuts!
Alaric
Now we have their car my brother, they will struggle to find alternate transport to get to the next show on time! It will tire them! Demoralise them! By the time our match comes around, they will be worn-out putty in our hands!
Kolotov
It is great idea brother Alaric! Truly devilish and fangtastic! This is what will make us top tag team in AWF in no time at all!
Alaric
Absolutely little brother Kolotov! It is a great idea! We are smartest in whole company! Me especially!
Alaric gives Kolotov an almighty slap on the pec in jest, which Kolotov returns a bit harder. Alaric grimaces slightly, forcing the smile to remain on his face, as he returns another slap to his younger brother, this time with much more force. Kolotov grunts, and returns another, harder slap. The smile is wiped from Alaric's face, as cracks a full on chop against Kolotov's chest, who angrily returns one of his own, until the pair are slapping at each other at the front of the car.
The car spins off into the wrong lane, almost coming head to head with a lorry. The twins scream, before Kolotov twists the wheel, sending them careening out of the path of the truck, straight off the road, before the car crashes through some brush and lands into the car park of a Tim Horton's.
It slowly rolls to a stop, perfectly in a parking space. The two brothers sit in silence for a few seconds, pale faces even paler, before looking up at the Tim Horton's ahead of them. Kolotov clears his throat.
Kolotov
Shall we go Tim Horton's.
Alaric
Yes I will get banana smoothie.
The pair begin to get out of the car, adrenaline still running through the pair of them, both clearly trying to play it off.
Kolotov
I will get strawberry smoothie.
The pair shut the car door, in their stupor, not realising they have left the car keys on the dash.
Alaric
Strawberry? Some vampire you are! Everyone knows Vampires eat banana!
Kolotov
Strawberry is colour of blood! Like Vampires like!
Alaric
It is also little baby fruit! Babies eat strawberries!
Kolotov
I am not baby Alaric!
The pair move across the car park towards the Tim Horton's.
Alaric
Little baby Kolotov! Goo goo! Waa waa!
Kolotov
Stop it brother please!
Alaric
Do you need dummy! Suck on little dummy for little baby Kolotov and his little baby strawberries! Fat baby too!
Kolotov whimpers.
Kolotov
...I will get banana smoothie.
Alaric
Now you are just copying me.
Alaric gets to the door of the Tim Horton's, and opens it wide to step through, not even holding it in place for his brother to follow him. Heads turn to look at the strange looking duo as they move into the Tim Horton's, but they pay no mind to that. The pair look up at the menu ahead of them, and Alaric is shocked. The only smoothie he sees is the 'Strawberry Banana Fruit Smoothie'
Alaric
Yuck! Look at that! What is that!? Blasphemy!
Kolotov
What?
Alaric
Look what you have done little brother Kolotov! No banana without also baby strawberry! We are forced to be babies!
Kolotov
But we both win brother!
Alaric
A clear look into your mind that you see this as some form of victory! No winners here today! I will get a Frozen Lemonade instead! You pay brother! I am going for piss!
Kolotov
But I paid last time-
Alaric
And you will pay again and again until I forgive you for your Drayton Manor misshap!
Alaric storms off to the toilets, as Kolotov stands in line, sighing. He hated when his older brother was mad at him like this, he kept trying to impress him but just kept screwing up… he couldn't afford to screw up again. His brother would have his hide.
But he had. Kolotov felt around in his pockets, and noticed he didn't have the car keys. His eyes went wide with shock and horror.
WHERE ARE THE CAR KEYS!?!?
He spins around on the spot, frightening the people around him, as he peers through the window behind him, his eyes locking on the parked car they hijacked in the distance.
About 30 minutes earlier
Orange Cassidy walks out from behind a Co-Op gas station bathroom door. A bunch of canucks are going about their business, all of them grumbling about fast food coffee. He walks around the store looking for the Best Friends. Trent wasn’t perusing the beef jerky and Dustin wasn’t carrying as many donuts as he could from the baked goods cabinet, so they definitely weren’t in the store still. OC exited the store to see the rustbucket that Trent had rented from that shack on the side of the road was nowhere to be seen.
Orange Cassidy sighs while pulling out his phone, typing Bell Centre into google maps. One thousand eight-hundred and sixty-four miles away it reads. Cassidy sighs again, puts a pair of headphones in and starts walking.
Orange Cassidy's Internal Monologue
There is no way they are gonna notice I’m gone anytime soon. Might as well get some exercise.
The roads of Canada are much more rural than those of the United states or at least the roads of Wherever. Cars only pass by every once and a while so OC is walking like how Bruce Banner would at the end of an Incredible Hulk episode. Remember like two weeks ago when Lou Ferrigno just showed up on AEW during the Bubbly Bunch segment, that was kinda random. Who do you think was the connection to get him to do it? Jericho probably.
Anyway, for the next twenty-ish minutes Orange Cassidy walked down those Canadian roads. He thought that the whole country would smell like maple, but it mostly smells like a hockey locker room. That was a bit mean, but he thought it was a good joke. Eventually he stops in the middle of a small town.
Orange Cassidy's Internal Monologue
At this point they are never gonna find me without any help.
Orange opens his phone to the group chat that the three best friends share. He pings his location on their location sharing in the hopes the other two will notice. He looks for their location on the map.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Oh that’s not too bad, they’re only like a town over.
OC notices a Tim Hortons across the street.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Might as well grab a snack while I’m waiting.
He crosses the unbusy street, takes out his headphones and pulls the door to the Tim Hortons open. The smell of coffee and baked goods immediately hits him.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
While I’m in a coffee shop I might as well give it another try.
He approaches the counter and there is a young canadian woman behind the counter. Like one of those girls who works at a coffee shop that is way too perky and excited to be there. How do coffee shops always seem to attract these kinds of people.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
How can I help you?
Orange Cassidy
Coffee. Small. Black. Please.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Alright sir that will be $1.59.
Orange puts his hand in his pocket, pulls out exact change and hands it to her. She puts it in her register and a male employee comes from the side and hands him the coffee.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Thank you and enjoy!
OC walks towards the other end of the store and sits at an empty two person table. He leans back in the seat, slowly brings the cup to his lips and takes a sip. As soon as the liquid hits his lips his whole body feels like it's being burned. Immediately an image comes to his mind, a child with blonde hair, no more than five or 6 years old, covered in steaming brown liquid and screaming in pain.
Rough Male Voice
GOD DAMMIT! I TOLD YOU TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN! IF YOU HAD STOPPED RUNNING I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO DO THIS!
Of course that is all in his head, so no one else sees or hears that. They just see Orange sitting still with a coffee cup very close to his face, as if he was just enjoying his drink or pondering a thought. He quickly snaps out of it placing the drink at the other end of the table. He doesn’t show much emotion, but if you knew Orange Cassidy you could see he was a bit shaken up.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
I guess today isn’t the day.
He checks his phone to see the location of his friends and sees Chuck’s location very quickly moving in his direction. He lifts his head up from the phone and notices a sign on the window, “Two mediums coffees and forty timbits special $7.99”. He gets up, picking up the coffee cup and throwing it in the trash on his way back to the counter.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Can I help you?
Orange turns around and points to the window.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Oh you want the Timbits deal, any cream or sugar for the coffee?
Orange Cassidy
Lots.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Alright, anything else?
A line begins to form behind Orange. He notices something in the cold case behind the counter.
Orange Cassidy
Tropicana. Please.
The employee turns around, grabs the orange juice from the case and puts it on the counter. She types it into the register.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Ok, so that will be $10 even.
Orange places his hand into his pocket, pulls out $15 and hands it to her. He’s a big tipper cause he made that Tony Khan money.
Orange Cassidy
Keep the change.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Thank you so much! Hold on.
She prints out the receipt and begins to write on it
Tim Hortons Female Employee
I’ve circled a survey on the bottom, fill it out and you’ll get a free coffee on your next visit. Your order will be ready at the other end of the counter. Thanks again!
Orange gives a weak nod, picks up his receipt and orange juice then moves to the end of the counter. He opens the orange juice and takes a big swig. A small smirk falls on his face.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Much better.
He slides the oj into his pocket and looks at the receipt to see what the employee was talking about with a survey and notices she wrote her number on the back instead . While waiting for his order OC notices the Dracislav Twins enter the store.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Huh, that’s weird. Too bad Dustin and Trent aren’t here to fuck with them.
Orange checks his phone and sees that it says Chuck is in the parking lot.
Tim Hortons Male Employee
Here you are sir.
Orange looks up from his phone, seeing the employee holding his order. He slides his phone in his pocket and takes the coffee tray and timbits from the employee. He begins to make his way out of the store, walking right past the bickering twins out the door. He gets to the car and sees that it is empty. He looks around for his friends, but they are not in the area. He opens the passenger door and puts the timbits there before closing the door. He then opens the driver door, sitting while putting the coffee in the drink holders. Orange checks his phone and sees that while Chuck is supposed to be in the parking lot, Trent is still in the next town over. He sees Chuck’s phone on the floor of the passenger seat. Putting two and two together, he decides to text the Tim Hortons Girl. The message he sends reads “Please fuck with the vampires.”
Grabbing the keys from the dash, he turns on the ignition and puts the gas pedal to the floorboard. He goes screeching out of the parking lot and in the direction of his friend. After about fifteen minutes of driving he sees his friends sitting outside of a post office. He hits the brake, turns the wheel hard and does a fast and furious style drift to end up right in front of Trent and Chuck.
Chuck
Well fuck me silly and call me Sally, look who came to save us.
Chuck and Trent walk up to the car as OC slowly hand cranks down the window.
Trent
Thanks for the rescue bud.
Chuck runs around the passenger side and gets in shouting “Coffee” excitedly. Trent just leans towards the driver’s seat and looks blankly at OC still giving a limp thumbs up from the previous thanks. After a few moments the message gets across and OC wiggles into the back seat, allowing Trent to get in.
Trent
(Pulling the car away) To Winnipeg we go!
Chuck
It’s supposed to be Montreal dude.
Trent
But that’s so far!
As they take off down the road, Chuck and Trent simultaneously push their seats as far back as they can into OC’s legs.
Trent:
(looking at OC through the mirror) So, what did you do while we were separated?
Orange Cassidy takes a breath in to talk.
Chuck
Story time later, music time now!
Chuck turns up the radio all the way blasting In The Summertime by Jerry Mongo. Trent and Chuck cheers with their coffee, OC eats some Timbits and they drive into the distance.
We return to the arena to a rumble of cheers for the Best Friends’ first appearance live on an Alberta Wrestling Federation broadcast. Trent rushes out of the curtain first but Chuck Taylor is close behind. They each take their own side of the stage to pump up before switching sides, ultimately meeting at the middle of the stage to proudly grab each other’s hands and holding all four high.
Mark Beverly: The following tag team bout, set for one fall, is the first in AWF history! Introducing first, from Racoon City, at a combined weight of four hundred six pounds - Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta: THE BEST! FFFFFRIENDS!
Fans’ hands are out and ready to be high-fived, the Best Friends ready to give out as many as possible as they proceed down the aisle.
Lance Storm: This first tag team match is next.
Alaric & Kolotov Dracislav are the first sight upon the return from the advertisement break, having reached the ringside area. Alaric speaks energetically while pointing at the ring and the opponents they would very soon face.
Mark Beverly: Their opponents, from Guildford, England, weighing a combined five hundred twenty one pounds - Alaric and Kolotov: THE DRACISLAV TWINS!
Some audience members get their attention as the Twins walk to their corner from the outside of the ring, and so the two show their false fangs and simultaneously hiss.
Lance Storm: I’m not quite sure if that actually intimidated anyone.
Christian Cage: Of course it did, Storm. Trust me, I know about their kind. I know well.
The Best Friends are mid-conversation at their corner as senior referee Don Quintillis signals for the bell. The Dracislav Twins have meanwhile effectively taken the right-side turnbuckle closest to the hard camera as their territory, Alaric whispering plans to Kolotov as he forces his younger brother to start off the bout.
Ding!
Trent Beretta: No, Dustin, you should have the honor of starting our first ever match!
Trent attempts to leave the ring before Chuck grabs his shoulder and gently pulls him back in.
Chuck Taylor: I could never take away something you so truly deserve!
Alaric Dracislav: Charge them, you overweight oaf!
With that, the one-pound heavier Kolotov listens to his twin and charges the bickering men with a corner splash.
Lance Storm: The Best Friends have dodged right out the way - it almost feels like a set up.
Kolotov’s head reverberates wickedly off the top turnbuckle pad as the Best Friends set up perfectly for his groggy turn around - double team flapjack executed to perfection!
Alaric Dracislav: Useless as always!
Alaric attempts to leap athletically over the top rope, only for his left foot to get caught and his face to be the first thing to break his fall. He attempts to pull himself up, using the support of his tag turnbuckle. As he begins to face forward, Chuck Taylor has whipped Trent Beretta toward him - a successful corner splash! Trent uses the back of Alaric’s head to send him toward Chuck Taylor: overhead belly-to-belly! Taylor kips up to a quick roar from the Bell Centre while the impact sends Alaric rolling out of the ring toward the ramp, where his brother has also found himself. The camera cuts the brothers attempting to help each other up.
Kolotov Dracislav: No, brother! We must rise!
Alaric Dracislav: (struggling to breathe) Shut… up… you… imb--
Two double axe-handles to the back - one from Trent to Alaric and the other received by Kolotov from Chuck. Trent attempts to pull Alaric in by his head to only be met with two stiff punches to the gut. At the same time, Kolotov has fought back quickly and suddenly against Chuck Taylor, with Taylor’s head soon bouncing off the steel steps. Alaric and Trent are in a fist fight as Kolotov continues his attack, but a well-timed gutkick keels the vampire over. A European uppercut puts Alaric on his back.
Don Quintillis: 3!
Lance Storm: Trent drops Alaric and he’s off to help Chuck Taylor as the referee has reached a count of three before calling the match. These men will have to make their way back into the squared circle sooner than later.
One more double axe-handle stuns Kolotov yet again, before Trent attempts to drive his head overtop the ringside barrier. Kolotov’s boot on the same barricade just in time halts the momentum and one quick elbow’s got Trent reeling backwards. Taylor attempts to get a swing off, but Kolotov manages to block it and come back with a swing of his one. He claps a quick modified uppercut under Chuck’s chin before Trent dropkicks him in the middle of his back, right into Taylor’s dropkick to the face.
Lance Storm: Now both twins are down again.
The Best Friends’ eyes are suddenly locked and slow smirks grow on both of their faces. The Dracislavs begin to stir as Trent rolls in first and Chuck’s in just after him on the opposite side of the ring. Once in, they suddenly sprint in unison for the ropes and they are off:
Christian Cage: A double suicide dive! In the opener?!
Trent lunges over the top rope, turning his body into a suicide senton as Chuck careens through the top and middle ropes. Beretta’s body falls hard on top of Kolotov’s and Taylor’s suicide dive effectively morphs into a devestating outside crossbody. The crowd is to their feet as the Best Friends drag their bodies up.
Christian Cage: Morons! They look just as hurt as the Twins!
Trent holds at his abdomen as the two risk-takers reenter the ring. When they enter, they notice each other - in corners diagonal from each other - and both seem to get a certain inclination. Staring across, their arms suddenly go wide and two begin speeding purposefully towards each other.
Christian Cage: Did they just hug in the middle of a wrestling ring?
The view is cut to the hard camera, quickly zooming out to show the hug and the crowd’s approving pop.
Don Quintillis: 6!
Alaric is to his feet on the outside first, wobbly legged but pulling his brother to his feet. The dialogue is intransliable in its frantic and angry nature, but he screams orders and commands at his brother until finally Kolotov is to his feet…
Don Quintillis: 9!
…. and into the ring as quickly as he can. Trent awaits his arrival and tries to get the immediate better with a slingblade - but Kolotov grabs him in the last swing and manages to turn into a swinging STO.
Christian Cage: Beauty! Just beauty with that execution!
The fast-paced start has gassed Kolotov, who has to take his time before quickly attempting to wrap Trent up with both legs hooked.
Don Quintills: 1!......
2!..........
KICKOUT
Kolotov pulls himself to his feet but is still visibly shaken from the early onslaught. A hair pull gets Trent on all fours, before the Dracislav kicks Beretta right in the gut. The wind knocked out assuredly with both of the last two maneuvers, Trent can only grab at his lower torso and strain for breath as Kolotov keeps kicking in the same spot. A change up - a pointed knee - forces Trent over and he begins trying to pull at the nearby bottom rope to catch a respite.
Lance Storm: Kolotov Dracislav has suddenly just completely changed the pace of this match in the last thirty seconds.
The boots begin to land in Trent’s back as it seems he can’t do much else but take the punishment. Another aggressive pull of the hair forces Beretta’s neck to bend awkwardly as Kolotov drags his opponent into the Dracislav corner. One more boot - this one landing with the sole - falls into Beretta’s gut. The same sole is driven into the throat and Kolotov grabs at the top rope to help with angling his foot to cause the most effective choke. The referee begins slapping at his arms, but Alaric walks to the center of the apron and begins teasing entering the ring, calling Quintillis’ attention.
Christian Cage: Look at this brilliant tag team psychology, Storm! He can laying in those closed palm strikes right to Beretta’s face as long as he wants to at this point - and the boot again, look at that switch-up!
Lance Storm: The referee remains preoccupied as Alaric distracts him. The ultimate disrespect now: he’s taken Trent’s headband off and is choking him with it.
Don Quintillis sees in the corner of his eye what is occurring and his attention diverts again. Finally, he begins to warn for the disqualification.
Don Quintillis: 1! 2! 3! 4! ---
Kolotov charges the referee, who flinches backwards. A stiff kick to the face is the last thing Kolotov does before the tag.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Quintillis slaps his hands so as to indicate a tag and Alaric is quickly into the ring. A knife-edge chop makes Trent recoil and grab at his eyes, exposing the wounded torso for a shoulder block into the corner. A second one is held, so as to trap as Kolotov begins swinging fists at Trent’s face.
Don Quintillis: 1! 2! 3! 4! --
Alaric lets out from the hold and plants a back elbow into Beretta’s chin.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Alaric forces a hand under Trent’s chin, perfect for the gutpunch from Kolotov. Alaric’s hand comes down flat for a chop that’s heard throughout the arena before he exits. A forearm smash to the face begins to drop Beretta down in the corner and one quick right swing knocks him to his rear end.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Spittle flies from Beretta’s face with Alaric’s entering kick to the face. His hairgrab pulls at Beretta’s neck awkwardly in similar fashion to his twin earlier, and he uses a set of ropes as a slingshot into the set opposite. On the return, Beretta begins to twirl around Alaric’s body seemingly endlessly.
Christian Cage: It’s a tilt-a-whirl backbre-
Lance Storm: No, Cage, it’s a tilt-a-whirl DDT counter by Trent Beretta. He’s got body on body quickly after that.
Don Quintillis: 1!......
2!
KICKOUT
The kickout leaves Alaric on his stomach and Beretta on his back. An energy begins to overtake the arena as Chuck Taylor bounces eagerly on the apron, Kolotov pacing back-and-forth in his corner. Claps build as Beretta begins to stir. He pulls himself up but the curl up works against his worn-down lower torso, and he quickly finds himself belly-down. This does not stop his crawling toward his partner.
Lance Storm: If Beretta can make that tag, it could be exactly the change in momentum to spell the end.
Alaric finally moves for the first time since the reversal and goes for Trent’s foot with all he’s got. Beretta attempts to continue moving despite this, but as Alaric begins to stand with the foot in hand, Trent’s got to adjust and keep composure of his body.
Lance Storm: Enziguri. From seemingly nowhere, Trent succeeds and both men are back down.
Trent falls belly first, and is just close enough: one last hop.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Taylor lands the tag and Kolotov is in the ring immediately. Alaric rolls from the center of the ring as the two men charge. An attempted spear is leapfrogged and the momentum sends Kolotov shoulder first into the Best Friends’ turnbuckle, falling to the mat outside afterwards. But as Taylor drops, Alaric has snuck up with a schoolboy.
Lance Storm: He’s got his tights.
Don Quintillis: 1!......
2!.......
3!--KICKOUT
Taylor uses his legs in the kickout to push Alaric, sending him into the corner. Chuck is to his feet quick as Alaric charges - Taylor the quicker thinker of the two, puts a big boot into the face. Alaric’s body bounces up as it crashes down, helping him get up faster albeit with a glazed look. The vampire’s arms are quickly grabbed and crossed from behind: straightjacket double-knee backbreaker! The outside leg is hooked.
Don Quintillis: 1!......
2!........
KICKOUT
Christian Cage: Give the man credit where it’s due, Lance, because you wouldn’t have kicked out.
Beretta has pulled himself to his feet and is ready.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Taylor pulls Alaric to his feet as Beretta begins scaling the top rope. The unexpected gain in height seems to wake Alaric, as Chuck puts him in electric chair position. The crowd collectively stands as Beretta stands, their claps and chants rising in volume. A crescendo is reached when Trent Beretta takes the leap: the Friend Device! It connects and the youngest members of the crowd begin to jump up and down with excitement as Trent hooks both legs.
Don Quintillis: 1!..........
2!
3!
DING DING DING!
Chuck Taylor runs around the ring excitedly as their music begins again. Once he makes a third rotation, he helps Trent to his feet, hugging his partner as he does so.
Mark Beverly: The winners of this match: Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta: The Best! Fffffriends!
The referee attempts to get in between them to raise both their hands, but they simultaneously shoo Quintillis away before grabbing each others’ hands and raising their arms on their own accord.
Best Friends d. Dracislav Twins in 7:02
A cut to a blurry screen. There is a deafening ringing noise.
FADE IN
We see an amazingly lit, huge elaborate stage, the sort of thing reserved for only the biggest and best stadium bands. A spotlight comes on and under it, is a battered and bruised (exactly how he looked after the Raging Dead match) Rockstar Spud. Spud looks to his left, it's his and bass player ZIGGY, tall, skinny and topless. Ziggy gives Spud a nod. Spud looks to his right and on guitar FRINGE, a well built young man whose fringe goes down to the middle of his nose. Fringe gives him a hang loose sign. Spud turns around with a giddy look on his battered face, behind the drums sits PANDA, Think Samoa Joe but cuddly. Panda gestures for Spud to turn around.
Spud looks forward at the sea of people.
The sound of the ringing is broken by each member of Local Leather teasing the audience with a taster of what their instruments can do:
Ziggy plays the opening to Psycho Killer but stops midway through. Fringe plays the Paradise City opening but again stops. Panda just bangs his drums really really hard. The crowd are entranced, clapping and cheering. Rockstar Spud is absolutely beaming with joy, he grabs the mic and adjusts it so that it's at his height.
Spud
(softly down the mic) Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
The crowd go completely silent.
Spud
Wohhh ohhh ohhh oh!
Crowd
Wohhh ohhh ohhh oh!
Spuds giddily glances at Fringe and Ziggy.
Spud
Ohhh Ohhh!
Crowd
(Panda stomps his bass drum in time) Ohh ohhh!
Spud
Deeda deeda!
Crowd
(Panda taps his cymbals in time) Deeda deeda.
Spud
Okay guys, that was beautiful, now I want you to do sing back what I sing to you, can you do that?
The Crowd cheers.
The rest of the band begin to play their instruments in time with Spud and the crowds singing.
Spud
Next week there'll be a battle royal!
Crowd
Next week there'll be a battle royal!
Spud
Usually the small mans foil!
Crowd
Usually the small mans foil!
Spud
But I am an anomaly!
Crowd
He is an anomaly!
Spud
So I dare them giants to fuck with me!
Crowd
So I dare them giants to fuck with me!
Spud raises both hands victoriously. Spud has a huge smile on his face, and hands comes from behind him and slaps him round the back of the head.
Ziggy
The fuck are you doing.
Spud looks out and this is what he sees:
INT. WEST MANITOBA RETIREMENT VILLAGE - DAY
Ziggy
Half this lot are deaf, that cheerleading bollocks can do one. Let's just play the songs and fuck off yeah.
Spud, no longer looking battered, save for the slightest black eye, gives a downtrodden nod. DELIA, 92, the tiniest little old lady you've ever seen, wakes up in her wheelchair.
Delia
(shakes her head) Get on with it then! We've got film night after this.
And Local Leather play the worst possible cover of:
The room is stunned silent, some of the pensioners begin to well up.
BEAT
DELIA, stands up from her wheelchair.
Delia
(Fist pumps) FUCKING YEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!
2 Care workers look absolutely furious and whisper at the back of the room. The other pensioners just stare blankly or sob. FRANK, 88, a man who is more beard than human at this point, stands and slowly moves forward in his zimmer frame. He looks Spud up and down.
Frank
Didn't I kill you in the war?
The band stare blankly, 1 care worker takes Frank by the hand.
Care Worker
Yes Frank, you killed everyone in the war.
Frank gives a massive toothless grin and struggles back to his seat. The care worker turns her attention to the band.
Care Worker
I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. NOW.
INT. LOCAL LEATHER TOUR BUS - DAY
A cramped tour bus/ back of a transit van full of equipment with 4 sleeping backs haphazardly scattered in between bits of kit, Spud and Fringe are situated between equipment. In the front Panda is in the Drivers seat, Ziggy beside him both comfortably smiling.
Panda
Definitely one of our more positive crowds.
Ziggy
Yeah, I sold little Delia a shirt on the way out.
Panda
REESULT!
Fringe
And I nicked some pills and shit on the way out!
Panda & Ziggy
Hurrayyy!!
Spuds ignoring all this and is rewatching highlights from his match with Raging Dead. Fringe navigates a guitar case to peak over Spuds shoulder.
Fringe
That again, fucking hell pal, you know there's porn and stuff on the internet, yeah.
Spud
(still staring at phone) But mate, I did it.
Fringe
What? Lost?
Spud
Look. Do you see that, I was done, no way I'm beating that count out he could have so easily left me, got the win, no fuss.
Fringe
Sooo? How come he's throwing you back in.
Spud
Respect mate.
The video shows Spuds late match flurry and eventual defeat.
Spud
(With a tear in his eye) And I was so close... But I got what I set out for.
The video fades out on Raging Dead giving Spud the nod.
Fringe quietly downs some of the pills he stole from the retirement home and lies back on top of the guitar case and begins to trip out.
Fringe
Do one of them cool passionate speeches, dude I'm so in for this shit right now.
Spud
So all roads lead to the belt, his is just shorter than mine right now and I hope, I pray, it's him and I think it will be. As we left the ring we both knew our business wasn't finished yet, not for a long shot but that's down the road. Everyone on this roster is capable of great things some are flashy, some are intricate and then there's the dudes I'm against this week.
Fringe
(Slowly moving his hands in front of his face) Tell me about them dude, wow.
Spud
Well, eld Spuddy boy is living among giants man, we've got the disturbed one, the evil one and the b b bla... bin man one. Me and them, we're the island of lost toys, we're the losers, apparently, I don't see any losers, shit. We have the best darn Bin Man on Boynton or any beach that I know of, we have the worlds tallest dwarf, quite an achievement and the lord and master of all that is pure and deranged, shit these men are titans... in a sense. Then there's little old me
(clears throat and in his best Michael Buffer voice) ’5'4" of Sweat and Sex Appeal, The Underdog from The Underwear Drawer, The Lovechild of Sid Vicious and Peter Dinklage, Tour Bus Terror, Pint Sized Peria, THE FRONT MAN! ROCKSTAR SPUD!’
They say battle royals are a big mans game, Andre, Studd, Hogan, the facts check out, it makes sense. Little dude like me they'll just toss me out and "let the men talk" hahahahaha. Think again. When they look at me they see a little dude, with an attitude, 5 feet and 4 and 141lbs on a good day, well fuck that. What they don't get, what they fail to recognise is when I'm in that ring and I breathe in and I feel that crowd, I'm the biggest man in the room, I'm a fucking giant, I'm Apollo, I'm a behemoth. They better have brought forklift trucks, catapults, canons or some kind of fucking divine intervention to beat me.
"Oh but Spud how will you eliminate them" BY HOOK OR BY GOD DAMNED CROOK, I'M NOT IN THIS GAME TO LOSE SO I PLAN ON DOING NO MORE OF IT. Try to throw me out big men, I dare you, you're all huge, you're all tough and I respect the hell out of each of you but lay a hand on me and you'll lose it. I'm afraid the Bin Man will get taken out like the trash that he loves, Homunculus sorry mate you'll get sent packing like you sent [NAME REDACTED] packing and Barron you're gonna have to get your money back from that personal trainer because that idiot didn't make you man ROCKSTAR FUCKING SPUD DID!
SO LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS!
Fringe
Woohhhhhh.
Fringe falls from the top of the guitar case and lies on the floor of the van, head propped against the front passenger seat, jaw dropped. Ziggy pops head round.
Ziggy
What the fuck happened here?
Fringe points at Spud.
Ziggy
Stop blowing Fringes mind Spud. You know how he gets. (turns to Fringe) Pass us them tablets then.
Fringe passes Ziggy the pills.
EXT. LOCAL LEATHER TOUR BUS - DAY
We see the bus speed through a beautiful mountainside. Fade out to commercial.
The following exclusive preview of ‘Rage 25/8’ is brought to you by iHeartRadio.
Raging Dead
Hello and welcome to episode one of Rage 25/8, right here on iHeartRadio. Thanks to their growing network of podcasts for folks like me… bored out of my mind with no place to let all of these thoughts out… I have the freedom to come on here as often as I'd like… to talk about… whatever… I want to talk about. This is a podcast, right? Is that what the kids call it? Anyway… hi… I’m Raging Dead… world travelled pro wrestling superstar… now calling AWF home.
The premier episode of AWF PrimeTime was a booming success. Six combatants moved on to the next round of the AWF World’s Championship Tournament: Lieutenant Andorra, Priscilla Kelly, Sasha Foote, Athena, Max Ironside, Raging Dead. All six of us move on to episode two, which takes place at Bell Centre in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. Also… the AWF Provincial Championship Tournament begins… where I am obviously rooting for my niece, Christina King. More on that later.
It’s still crazy to think how things have turned out. I could not have imagined a year ago… or even six months ago… that I would be wrestling full time again, and at such a high level of competition. But… here I am… giving it one last go. Yes, one last go. For those of you tuning in for the first time… well… this is the first episode… but… damn. Where was that one going? Oh, right. As I enter my thirtieth year in this business… I have decided to officially hang up the boots later this year. When I returned in September of last year… I was simply testing the waters for one more run… and it has been a blast. I have won three four titles already… in four different promotions… and I’m looking to add AWF World’s Championship to that growing list.
This is not an easy business by any means. I would also say that I am not the toughest guy around, but I do know what it takes to get the most out of a career. In recent months… I have noticed that this new generation of superstars lacks a certain kind of… substance. They go out and do all kinds of cool moves, but can’t seem to make the moves matter in the grand scheme of things. Last week, for instance, Rockstar Spud came at me with everything he had and he just couldn’t get the job done. A year from now… will they remember how he lost… or remember how hard he fought? I hope it is the latter. He's a good kid… and he's got a bright future ahead of him… but he drew the short straw by having to face me in the first round of the tournament.
Next up is a three way dance with Athena and Max Ironside. This is not to be confused with a three way dance I had in 1999… with Athena and Maxine. That's a story I'll save for adult listeners on the premium podcast Rage After Dark. This upcoming match is one with unforeseen variables. Last week, it was just me and Spud. I had control of the outcome from the very beginning. A three way dance is far less predictable… but could be a lot of fun.
Last week… Athena and Max were victorious over two of the toughest opponents they could have faced in this tournament… Kendrick Kross and Barron Boneius, respectively. They all fought valiantly… but only two of them are destined to fight me next week. The other two will have to wait for another week. Athena and Max… I imagine it is overwhelming having to compete against me next week on PrimeTime. Week one… I won Match of the Week and I was number one in the rankings. Even in a triple threat… the odds are against both of them.
Max was ranked third. Athena was ranked fifth. Those are still really good spots to be in. They both earned their way into the next round of the tournament… and they collectively hit a wall. They'll both fight until there's nothing left… and that's where I do my best work. I've hit rock bottom more times than I can count… and I always find a way to come back stronger. That's who I am. Who are they? Athena is the Goddess of War… and Max is the Handicapped Hero. They've both fought so hard in their lives and their careers to be taken seriously… and now they have the unfortunate task of fighting… me.
Under normal circumstances… without any championship opportunities at stake… I would take the time to coach these future superstars and pass down whatever knowledge they are willing to absorb. But this… is a different situation entirely. This is the AWF World's Championship Tournament! This is life or death! Okay, maybe not THAT drastic… but the final year of my legacy depends on the impact I am able to make in such a short amount of time. I cannot allow anyone to stand in my way of being champion once again.
When Bret Hart signed me to AWF… he knew what he was getting. A bona fide legend. That's not incessant bragging by any means. It's a fact. For thirty… long… rigorous… years… I have traveled the globe… racking up nearly as many losses as I have wins. Just since September 2019… I am 23-14-4. Yes, I keep track in a notebook. My wife thinks it will help since my memory isn't that great. I can tell you that my fifth match since returning was my first loss… and it was against my niece, Christina King. I have had eight matches in California since January 7. Wow!
I digress. Bret knew that signing me would create a buzz and spark interest in AWF. And look! Sixteen people have signed since my signing was announced! The pilot for AWF PrimeTime was a success. It truly set the pace for how these shows are going to go. Next week will be much of the same… but with even MORE action packed action! Speaking of pilots… for my very first episode of Rage 25/8 right here on iHeartRadio… I have a special treat for you all! Well, maybe not ALL of you will find this interesting… but… you can’t please everybody all the time. Heh. I have a guest who has been waiting patiently on the line and… Brice… are you there?
Brice McQueen
I’m here, buddy!
Raging Dead
Welcome to Rage 25/8, Brice. It’s good to have you on.
Brice McQueen
It’s good to be anywhere but my basement right now. That place smells like piss!
Raging Dead
That’s… something…
Brice McQueen
The old lady just keeps bringing home more cats and they’re pissing up the place. I try to escape to my man cave and ya know what I found?
Raging Dead
More cats?
Brice McQueen
MORE CATS!
Raging Dead
That’s a shame. I know you’re more of a dog person.
Brice McQueen
That’s an understatement. I hate cats almost as much as I hate the Montreal Canadiens! They have no honour… pride… OR courage!
Raging Dead
How long have you been a Maple Leafs fan?
[Brice McQueen
All my life, pal. I was born in the parking lot on the final night of the 1949 Stanley Cup Finals. My parents didn’t want to miss the game, so they bought me a ticket at the gate.
Raging Dead
That’s one hell of an origin story! So, I wanted to have you on today to discuss the AWF PrimeTime. As a veteran in this sport of spanning half a century… what are your thoughts on the show?
Brice McQueen
Too many vignettes!
Raging Dead
Okay. How were the matches?
Brice McQueen
They were fine.
Raging Dead
Just fine?
Brice McQueen
Yeah. I was impressed by a few of those kids. Rockstar Spud put up one heck of a fight against you. That’s for sure. Athena and Max Ironside have bright futures ahead of ‘em, too.
Raging Dead
You’re aware they are my opponents next week on PrimeTime then.
Brice McQueen
I am now. I don’t keep up with the world wide webs. Is it some kind of handicap match?
Raging Dead
No. It’s a three way dance. The winner advances to the finals of the title tournament.
Brice McQueen
Well dang! You’re going to win that for sure!
Raging Dead
What makes you say that, other than your innate bias for me?
Brice McQueen
It’s not bias at all. I objectively believe you’re the best in the business today. I’ve thought highly of you even when you worked in a mask and hid your true identity. I always knew there was just… something… about you. You’ve got a classic style but you adapt to whatever is thrown at you, buddy.
Raging Dead
What are the odds I don’t win this match?
Brice McQueen
I’m not much for odds. I just have a gut feeling that you’re going to go all the way in this tournament. My gut is never wrong. Except for when I picked up that working girl down in Guadalajara back in ‘82 or ‘83. I forget which tour it was. She ended up being a he though. Still paid him a fair wage.
Raging Dead
Let’s skip right past that and pretend it never happened. Brice, you might just be the youngest 70 year old on the planet. What are the chances you’re able to step back into the ring?
Brice McQueen
I’ve been jumping on my trampoline for weeks, just waiting for the phone to ring. You never know when you’ll get the call at my age. Yeah, I’m in the best shape of my life. At least the best shape of the second half of my life. I had a lot of dangerous vices in the early 90s.
Raging Dead
If you got a call right now… from Bret Hart himself… would you pack your bag and head to PrimeTime?
Brice McQueen
I sure as heck would! I bet I could teach these young kids a thing or two about a thing or two! As I said, I’ve got my eyes on Spud… Athena… and Ironside. They’ve got a lot of upside and not a lot of cracks in their armor. That doesn’t mean they’re ready to be at the top of the pyramid. Spud already found out what happens when you go one on one with an international stud like yourself. Athena and Ironside are in for a lesson of a lifetime when they step in the squared circle with you.
Raging Dead
Why is it called a square circle?
Brice McQueen
Let me tell you about the time I---
Raging Dead
Brice? Are you there, Brice?
Brice McQueen
---
Raging Dead
I think we lost the connection. I’m surprised the call lasted that long. Brice just recently got a smart phone for the first time and he’s not… exactly… tech savvy. Anyway, that’s just about all I have for you today. I would like to end this episode by warning Athena and Max ahead of time that… while I am cordial and respectful here today… when that bell ring… I’m going to tear them limb from limb. The AWF World’s Championship practically has my nameplate on it already… and I will stop at nothing to become the first to hold the top prize in AWF.
Athena… Max Ironside… all your base… are belong to Gust…
[STOP]
High heels clack along the pavement in this vignette, telling everyone who can hear that Priscilla Kelly and her leather dominatrix boots are on the move. If the loud clacking of the heels doesn't get the attention of passers by, then the depraved noises of the gimp suit wearing Prince Albert, following behind his mistress on all fours, being tugged along by his leash, definitely does. He barks loudly at a mother walking with two young children on the other side of the road, causing them to bolt away scared, scarred with the image they just witnessed. Later in life, those children would watch Pulp Fiction, and have sleepless nights for months. Priscilla just cackles.
Priscilla Kelly
Good doggy! Goooood doggy!!!
She pats Albert on his smooth bald head, and Albert pants eagerly in response. A car passes by, the driver's traumatised eyes locked on the disgusting sight he sees next to him, rather than at the road ahead. Priscilla notices, and winks in his direction, right before the car crashes into the back of another car stopped at a red light. The drivers get out and start arguing with each other, as Priscilla continues to laugh, before moving onward down the path.
The Succubus comes to the door of the neighbourhood Post Office, and steps inside. The other customers, lined up, turn and look immediately uncomfortable and freaked out at the sight of the pair that just stepped in, whilst the young woman behind the counter only sighs and puts her head in her hand, faintly muttering 'these two again'.
Priscilla Kelly
Maeve my darling, it's time to drop off another letter.
Maeve
There's a postbox outside you can use!
Priscilla Kelly
But I love seeing your delectable face! Reckon I'll have it under me one day.
Maeve lets out another loud and bemused sigh, as Priscilla moves ahead of the line right over to the counter where she stands. An older fellow in the line looks insulted at this, and steps out of the line towards them, his face bulging with anger.
Angry Man
And what do you think you're doing!? I'm not waiting in this line for no reason!
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah I'm not waiting in that line for no reason either.
Angry Man
Gosh, you are the epitome of a millenial aren't you! Expecting everything on a platter! Coming in here dressed like that! Like a dirty little slut!
Albert wraps his gigantic hand almost entirely around the man's head, and before the man can even finish his whimper, it is smashed hard into the protective glass. He crumples to the floor, unconscious, as Priscilla grins and bends down towards him.
Priscilla Kelly
Thanks for the compliment.
The line of people in the post office are terrified now, as Priscilla pays them no mind, only peering back up to look at the now very agitated Maeve. Priscilla lifts up a letter, scribbled with red love hearts, and has deep red lipstick marks on it. She raises an eyebrow at Maeve.
Priscilla Kelly
It's a good one this time my deary, erotically oozing. Do you want to read it, or shall I give you a reading myself?
Maeve
I'll read it.
Priscilla hands the letter over to Maeve, who goes to take it, but Priscilla holds it in place so she can sensually grab Maeve's hand in her own, applying just a little bit of extra pressure on her hand.
Priscilla Kelly
You know the address, make sure it gets to him. You how upset my doggy will be if we hear it doesn't.
Maeve
It will… it will.
Priscilla Kelly
And Maeve, make sure to give the envelope a good long lick.
Priscilla winks at Maeve, before she tugs at Albert again, who falls back down to all fours as he follows her out of the building. Priscilla takes a big breath of fresh air as she steps back outside.
Priscilla Kelly
I love the smell of violence in the morning.
She looks down at Albert, who strokes his head against her crotch.
Priscilla Kelly
It shouldn't be long until we get a letter back my deary, and if it's anything like last time, it'll be even more depraved than mine. He's putty in our hands, my prince… and I can't wait to play with him.
Albert woofs enthusiastically, as Priscilla pulls at his collar especially tightly, causing him to gag in pleasure as he's forced to follow her clacking footsteps further down the street, into more unsuspecting and soon to be traumatised passers by. Crossfade back to the arena.
Christian Cage: I need a cigarette, partner.
The crowd welcomes Matt Sydal welcoming as the wrestling veteran walks into a PrimeTime taping for the first time. He responds with waves and hand slaps of endearment as he takes his time enjoying his entrance. The nameplate flashes across the screen as he takes a selfie with a kid.
Mark Beverly: The following qualifying match for the AWF Provincial Championship tournament is set for one fall. Coming down the aisle, from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing one hundred eighty five pounds: MATT! SSSSYYYYYDAL!
Lance Storm: Matt Sydal caught up with AWF lead reporter Kevin Kelly to tell us his thoughts coming into tonight.
A dual screen view is fancily put into place: the live entrance ongoing in the top-right, the pretaped interview in the bottom-left:
Kevin Kelly: I know you are just as excited as I am to work for Bret Hart, you've mentioned his influence on you before.
Matt Sydal
As a fan you either grow up on Bret's side or on Shawn Michaels' side. I was a Bret Hart guy. Bret and the rest of his family, the Guerrero family, The Malenko family, The Steiner brothers, Ricky Steamboat, so many influences. It was also really awesome to meet those who I grew up watching as a kid . Bret has praised me a lot and him signing me still felt so amazing even after this decade of him knowing of me.
Kevin Kelly: You've always had a great reputation.
Matt Sydal
Somehow. I've made a lot of mistakes , I feel extremely fortunate that my reputation never changed. I am fortunate to have hindsight. That's what makes me better than my first opponent.
At first glance, it may seem obvious he's not a threat but I've been around way to long enough to know you should never underestimate anyone, maybe he's great. He has a kick? It could possibly be the best. He better watch out though, I have very educated feet and knees.
Kevin Kelly: What happens from a debut, do they matter?
Matt Sydal
It's all about momentum. Momentum is what matters most, it's keeping that momentum up. I'm going to build up that momentum, { raises arm up higher and higher) and make that impact with the Air Bourne. He may be the best flight attendant, he may be comfortable in the sky, he has nothing on me. I can promise that unequivocally.
The view snaps back to normal, Sydal in the ring taunting for the crowd.
"YOLORERIROOOOOOOOOOOO"
José Figueiras comes out to the sound of his theme song. Not the whole thing, just the instrumental. The ENTIRE arena claps along, audience including. The unusual influx of energy in the usually monotonous Lance Storm is shocking, like he’s been possessed by an energy of joy.
Lance Storm: OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!
José stops at the stage area and does the D-Generation X (Remember them?) crotch chop. The crowd goes wild!
Mark Beverly: His opponent, simply: JOSÉ! FIGUEIRASSSSSSSHHHHHhhhh!
Crowd
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
He does it again!
Crowd
YEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
José Figueiras grabs a microphone from seemingly out of nowhere and signals for the production team to fade his song out. They do as told, not abruptly cutting it off, but phasing it out properly, with a smooth fade-out.
Thank you, boys.
The crowd goes absolutely FUCKING insane again! Figueiras gives a ridiculously charming chuckle.
José Figueiras
Ah, you silly geese! I hadn't even addressed you yet!
Crowd
Aww!!!
José Figueiras
BUT NOW I AM!
Crowd
HAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! FIGUEIRAS! FIGUEIRAS! FIGUEIRAS! FIGUEIRAS!
José Figueiras
Alright, alright now, settle down.
José Figueiras charms the entire audience (at home and otherwise) with the most beautiful, brightest, most gorgeous smile. This is objective.
José Figueiras
Tonight is the night!
The crowd goes fucking mental yet again. Some people seem to actually genuinely die out of excitement…
José Figueiras
Tonight is the the night José Figueiras makes his long-awaited début in the Alberta Wrestling Federation!
Cheers again, obviously.
José Figueiras
It really is a dream come true... I've been watching this precise show on television since I was a year old! Can you believe it!? It's incredible. Just an incredible feeling. I feel so flattered, so privileged to be here with every single last single one last every single last one of you!
The crowd goes wild at José's e-feddy abuse of the "every single last one of you", and you can tell a lot of them were part of e-feds earlier in their lives or even currently, who'd have thought e-fedding made it into this decade!? José knew. José always knew, and therefore he knew exactly who to appeal to. This is the exact reason which had brought him today, to choose wisely the words "every single last single one last every single last one of you", when he could really have said "y'all".
José Figueiras
When I was wrestling in bingo halls all those years ago and everyone kept telling me to move out of the way and make space for other people - people who had been there for much longer than I had - I said no! I always said I will not move out of the way for you. I was there to make a statement. I was there to assert myself. I was there to stake a claim. I was there to stake. My. Claim.
The fans cheer like the moronic mindless mongoloids they are.
José Figueiras
And when I was wrestling in Europe, same as when I was wrestling in Japan, they always tried to push me out of the way because I had a career beyond wrestling, or because I'm not kawaii enough. Respectively. And no! I made my own space, I made my statement, I stook my claim!
The crowd cheers again. Figueiras starts pointless and briskly pacing back and forth on the stage area.
José Figueiras
And now I'm here and I will be doing the exact same thing! I'll make my statement. I will assert myself. And I will stake!
…
José Figueiras
My!
…
José Figueiras
Claim!
The fans go absolutely fucking bonkers because they had no idea what José was going to say, even though he's said it tonnes before. José waits for everyone to calm their tits before he addresses the situation yet again.
José Figueiras
And maybe you haven't heard a lot about me, MATT SYDAL. And I've heard very little about you, myself, to be very frankly honestly sincere. I asked one of my wives who you were and he said you were part of a Tag Team called Air Boom. Can I just say how fucking SHIT the name "Air Boom" is? I swear to fuck. I once knew someone called Spookeditch Spongabip Tootlegip and that was still a better name than whatever the shit you came up for for a championship winning Tag Team. YOU GOT PUT IN A TITLE MATCH AND YOU CALLED YOUR TAG TEAM AIR BOOM WHAT THE FUCK!?
Figueiras breathes for a bit, the red in his face slowly phasing away.
José Figueiras
I know who you are, Evan Bourne.
Figueiras gets extremely serious, and he gets as uncomfortably close to the nearest camera as possible. Basically the entire screen is filled by his eyes and nose.
José Figueiras
And everything about you just screams how weak you are. Just a factually, unadulterated lack of any semblance of strength of character impersonated. That's what you are... And just like I didn't let seniority stop me from succeeding in European wrestling, and how I didn't let how little I look like a teenage schoolgirl stop me from succeeding in Japan, and most of all how I didn't let random old ladies who were there busting their arses playing Bingo day in and day out stop me from becoming the BEST WRESTLER IN EVERY BINGO HALL I'VE EVER FUCKING BEEN TO!
Figueiras takes another breather, heavily this time.
José Figueiras
Just as sure as I had absolutely nothing to do with 9/11, I sure as FUCK won't be losing to you tonight. As a matter of FUCKING FACT, I will beat the shit out of you if you even dare show up to this match. So put your little tail back between your little legs, run to another meaningless promotion, change your name, and do your flips. Because the moment I signed a contract with AWF I promised to myself I would, if need be single-handedly, make it the top, biggest Professional Wrestling federation in the modern world. And as the new face of this company I can assure you, buddy, there is NO space for cowardly vanilla midgets in my ring. And if Evan Dylan Matt James Bourne Sydal isn't a cowardly vanilla midget, I don't know what is.
José Figueiras drops the microphone as he pulls from his pocket square an oddly familiar black mask with a green trim just before he rips off his flight attending shirt like Clark Kent to reveal a black skin-tight suit tucked into his slacks. A fantastically stitched green “H” is prominent, but how is it just coming to our attention the massive green, glitter cloth he’s had hanging out of his back pocket the whole time? That damn smile. It turns out to be a cape (making this now the third AWF wrestler to don a cape in three weeks), and the microphone he had previously has returned to his grasp.
José Figueiras
STAND BACK! THERE’S UM FURACÃO COMING THROUGH!
The crowd jumps to their feet as he does the Hurricane pose. Stomps and screams from the crowd increase as he sprints like John Cena down the ramp. He slides in that same slightly sideways fashion, as well.
Ding!
But he keeps sliding all the way to the opposite side and out, without ever slowing momentum! Sydal darts his eyes to keep up, but Figueiras has begun a ridiculous fast sprint around the ring before suddenly rolling underneath the ropes closest to the hard camera.
Lance Storm: Figueiras finally coming back into the squared circle - oh he’s ducked that clothesline and he’s rolled right back out the other side.
Christian Cage: What the hell is this guy doing?
Another four laps are suddenly broken with a slide in, but Matt has kept his eye and swings out another lariat. This one is dodged again, but Figueiras doesn’t leave the ring this time, instead surprising Sydal with a rope rebound and return with a form-perfect spinning corkscrew elbow. The audience can’t possibly get any more excited!
Lance Storm: That was quite honestly beautiful but are we surprised at this point?
Sydal is groggy but Figueiras does not let up the attack. Before long, Matt finds himself in a rather precarious position: in his opponent’s clutches, back-to-back, and upside down. Figueiras drops and somehow there is one louder pop: VERTEBREAKER!
Lance Storm: The shoulders are down and he’s keeping as he’s landed.
Al Trundy: 1!.....
2!...........
3!
DING DING DING!
Christian Cage: That is by far the quickest match in AWF history yet!
Figueiras is right to his feet, jumps into the Hurricane pose, and holds it. That’s all he will do as the full version of his music plays on.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, advancing to round one at AWF Gold Rush: JOSÉ! FIGUEIRASSSSSSSHHHHHhhhh!
The pose remains.
José Figueiras d. Matt Sydal in 1:23
A transition. The scene starts with a dark shadow over the screen lens until it moves away and you know it was just one of the newest signees to AWF, Laci Valentine trying to adjust her camera. She sits with her body partially blocked by a laptop. She looks earnestly at the camera.
Laci Valentine
Full disclosure, I have zero editing experience so until I get the hang of that these promo videos are going to be straight up Raw and uncut.
She snickers as if she was relaying some inside joke to herself.
Laci Valentine
So in my debut match I had to do some Gen-Y research. Mainly, I googled. Yup. Not ashamed to say it. And the reason I had to turn to google is because as I am reading the bio of my first opponent it states her style as 'Super Junior'. Okay, sure. No idea what that is so here I go and…
She types a few things into a laptop which only the back of it can be seen. It’s decorated with a leopard print cover. She’s silent for a least a minute as her eyes dart back and forth reading the words that the audience otherwise can’t see.
Laci Valentine
...it says that she's basically a junior heavyweight.
Laci's eyes go wide as she looks back up at the camera.
Laci Valentine
Ummm... okay. Sure. Is this one of those instances where we let someone believe that they're something they're not because it's not politically correct to argue? I guess size shouldn't matter and heck, I'm definitely not going to begrudge someone on pursuing their dream but this girl is 5'2 and one hundred and twenty-five pounds. Plus it says she was a ballerina. I've got height and weight on her. Plus I'm pretty freaking agile.
Again, I've gone off on a tangent. Her bio says she held a Heavyweight in 2019. To be honest, I kind of gotta just take her word for it, but as I said in my video thingy, I am not going to let anyone intimidate me. I know what I am capable of. Not that I'm going to underestimate her because she's four inches shorter. Even the little guys get their day.
She stops, takes a breath to re-establish her thoughts.
Laci Valentine
I know her type though. She'll probably try to hit me right in my girly center with a bunch of comments about me being a rookie. I get it. Everyone uses that. And yeah, I am a rookie. I am one year out of wrestling school. I have only done Indy shows and my losses equal my wins. Cool.
She offers the camera a cool smile that doesn’t actually reveal anything.
Laci Valentine
That might make me the underdog here but it in no way means that it's inevitable that I'm going to lose either. I made a point of requesting a spot on the first show here, even though I was too late in getting booked. I wasn't afraid to put myself out there and I wasn't arrogant enough to think I needed no introduction either. I mean, have we heard much from Ms.King since she signed with AWF? I mean I know it's only been like three days but if she's as good as she says wouldn't she want people to acknowledge her?
She stops, taping her head.
Laci Valentine
Wait, I guess I'm kinda already doing that in this promo... but half the stuff I'm saying is merely speculative though... I mean no one can really blame me for having to assume though without anything really to go off except a bio that states she thinks she might be an anime character…
She sighs heavily.
Laci Valentine
I'm not really doing a great job at promoting myself here. Let me restart.
She wiggles around on her chair and makes a show of trying to ‘get serious’.
Laci Valentine
I am Laci Valentine. I am a pretty good high-flyer. I was scouted by a veteran in the Indy Scene who uses the name Babelicious and then signed by Bret Hart himself. I mean that alone has to say something right? I am confident in what I can do. I love what I do and with a potential championship on the line I have a lot riding on this match. While this is huge to me, to someone like Christina who has 'held many titles' a secondary title isn't going to be as important to her. She will probably see this as just a stepping stone to whoever ends up winning the first tournament.
She leans into the camera.
Laci Valentine
If I had to put money on it though, I'd say Sasha has the best odds at that. Not sucking up or anything.
She leans back.
Laci Valentine
I am definitely not going to go into this match thinking I have it won already, because there are so many things that could change the odds. Plus, arrogance makes you do stupid things and stupid is not a word I would ever use to describe myself. I have the instincts for this. I have been fighting, one way or another, my whole life. Now I can do it for fun.
She winks.
Laci Valentine
And in the chance that I don't come out of this match the winner? Then I get back up and keep fighting because one match doesn't dictate the rest of my life. Failure is humbling and it's grounding. It makes you appreciate what you have all that much more. While I may not have some ballerina face kick or a wrestling family, I do have more stick-to-it-ness then anyone I have ever met. I know what it's like to work hard to earn what I have.
The camera refocuses and one can almost make out the framed diploma on the wall behind her, the only words that can be clearly seen are 'York University' but not the type of diploma it is.
Laci Valentine
I'm pretty confident though. I'm going into this giving it my everything because that's what I do. I am definitely not going to be sorry about winning my match and I am not going to be sorry about moving up in the tournament either. I may be a nice Canadian girl but I am not nice about doing what I gotta do to be the best. Even nice girls gotta break a few hearts.
She uses her fingers to make a heart shape before she reaches forward to shut off the camera. We’re sent to break.
Theodore Long, Rodney Mack, & Jazz star in WWE Studios’ next summer direct-to-DVD release: ‘Thuggin ‘n’ Buggin’ II: The Bitch is Back.’
Promotion for ‘Frontiers’ by Journey as the official theme of Alberta Wrestling Federation’s 30 May pay-per-view debut, Gold Rush.
The return to broadcast is of the backstage area, the crowd popping when they see Bret Hart stood next to his brother Bruce. They face the camera, but their attention is to the young woman in front of them. Bret’s speaking but his words are inaudible over Father to Son’s instrumentals playing as background music.
Lance Storm: Welcome back to AWF Tuesday Night PrimeTime, and That’s obviously AWF founder Bret Hart with his brother Bruce. I believe that’s Jetta, one of our most recent signees and a wrestler who competes in our next qualifying match. Those are the right friends to have.
Bret’s head turns up at the sound of the music and he points while saying something before putting his hand out for Jetta to shake then slaps his brother on the back. Jetta turns to reveal a face of determination and begins walking toward the camera, its handler doing well with keeping up. Bruce Hart follows behind her as Bret walks in the opposite direction. As they approach the Gorilla position, the cameraman begins to stagger and films them walking past, Bruce seemingly pep-talking Jetta until the curtain is reached.
Jetta crosses the plane on her own to a welcoming applause from the audience, perhaps a natural trust given in her with the company she keeps. The camera cuts to a wide view of the ramp, progressively zooming into Jetta, her nameplate flashes across the screen for the first time on international primetime (hurhur) television.
Mark Beverly: The following qualifying match for the AWF Provincial Championship is set for one fall. Making her way down the aisle, from Edmonton, Alberta, weighing one hundred ten pounds: JETTA!
The crowd gives her a little more with the announcement of her name.
Lance Storm: These were the words Jetta had for the world and her opponent ahead of her debut.
The entrance video transmission shrinks into the upper-right side of the screen as another video appears diagonally. Jetta can be seen from the waist up with nothing but a black background.
Jetta
I have to admit, I’m pretty nervous.
This is my first job in this industry, and just like everyone else in this brand new upstart, I have dreams and aspirations. Just like everyone else, I want to stand out - be noticed - be liked and respected. I know I’m going to meet people who judge, who look down on people like me for no reason other than to validate their own ‘mean person’ existence - and that is fine. I have thick skin, I can take it. And beneath that thick skin is heart, and that is what will elevate me past all of my eventual naysayers here in the AWF.
But don’t mistake my nerves for a weakness. I may be new to the business, especially in comparison to some in this company, but I’m not green enough to let fear - to let nerves - take control and disrupt my game plan. When the pressure is on, self-induced or not, I perform better. I push through those nerves, through that fear, and come through on the other side a better version of me.
And that’s my goal. To better myself. To become the best that I could possibly be. And I know that my first opponent will be a true test.
Eclipse; it’s safe to say that no one knows much about you, other than you’re ‘she-borg’, cyberpunk. You’re bigger and taller than I am, and probably a little more experienced - but I can promise you one thing, Eclipse, and it’s my level of determination cannot be matched. You can rely on your MMA and Karate backgrounds all you want but I won’t stay down.
I can’t stay down.
This is my golden opportunity. This is the reason why I’ve busted my ass off for the last couple of years - for this chance. All I needed was one chance, one match, to impress. And this is it. So the get up, the Karate and MMA, the advantages you have? It may be a glaring fact that the odds are against me, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to back down. As I said, when the pressure is on - I push through. I persevere, and when it’s all said and done - I come out better than I was before.
Win or lose, I will gain valuable experience.
But the idea is to win, while the goal is to make a lasting impression. The goal is to not waste this opportunity. Bret Hart and his scouts have put their faith in me, so the least I can do is go out there and give absolutely everything that I have.
All of the time spent training has led me to this. I won’t let Urijah down. I won’t let myself down.
It doesn’t matter to me that I’m the smallest in this fight. I have the biggest heart. I have the most determination. I will fight tooth and nail to make the name Jetta mean something here in the AWF.
And if all goes according to plan, I will move on in the Provincial Championship tournament. I’m sorry it has to be at your expense, Eclipse, and I’m sure you will be a huge challenge for me.
My fight and efforts will make a lasting impression, and my intentions are to win this match. I am ready to push through these nerves. I am ready to push through the fear of the unknown.
I am ready, Eclipse.
As the cameras revert back, she’s since entered the ring quickly before posing on the ropes toward the hard camera. Television static fades the view into a scene without any heads-up. Open on a derelict warehouse storage room. Fluorescent strip lights blaze overhead and cables, body armour and weapon parts litter the filthy concrete floor. In the centre of the room, atop a stack of crates, sits a large monitor crackling with static. Thick, bulbous cables snake from the monitor into the bottom crate.
Without warning, the static cuts out and a 10 second countdown clock lights up the monitor. Sirens blare in the distance, indifferent as the countdown finishes.
The screen goes black, except for the words:
BEGIN TRANSMISSION
Another quick burst of static and finally a picture appears on the monitor. Eclipse's head and shoulders fill the frame, her porcelain skin and pitch-black eyes a piercing strip of light between the dark masses of her dreadlocks and face mask. Her eyes narrow as she stares the camera down.
Eclipse
Hello. I would say don't be afraid, but that would be deeply misleading.
She lets out a throaty chuckle and cracks her neck.
Eclipse
You may not know it yet, but the age of Eclipse is coming. I've been training, fighting... ready to take my rightful place as the She-Borg Queen. And nobody's going to stand in my way.
Eclipse leans closer to the camera. Her eyes burn, intense with desire and rage.
Eclipse
Least of all... you, Jetta. You'd better start praying to whatever you believe in, or start running to somewhere sheltered and safe, because once you're in my grasp there's no going back. I will crush you and knock you to the floor like the pathetic child you are.
Eclipse's hand rises into frame, slowly forming a fist to emphasise her point. Her index finger extends out and she points down the lens.
Eclipse
Let me tell you, you have no idea who you're going up against. But you'll know soon. You'll know, and you'll feel it, and if you recover you'll tell your friends. And they'll tell their friends. And so on and so forth until word spreads and the world rightly learns to fear the name... Eclipse. You needn't worry where I came from; who I was. That's not important. What you should concern yourself with is my goal. Where I'm going. You're merely the first pawn on my journey to claim my rightful throne. I know what power means, Jetta. I know what it means and I know what philosophy it requires, and I have that in spades. Despite what you claim, you are not ready. You never will be. But if you choose to stand in my way I won't discriminate. I'll crush you the same way I'll crush anyone who opposes me. Soon, the only ones left will be those in my servitude. And the reign of the She-Borg will begin. Look to the sky, Jetta. It's only a matter of time.
END TRANSMISSION
Despite the high tempo of the theme attached to her, Eclipse’s emergence is stoic and focused. Those in the Bell Centre do not quite know how to react to her presence without much more than a more unapproving murmur. A few of the more impressionable adolescent crowd participants seem taken by her aura as she flaunts by them in her strange graceful, but purposeful saunter. The nameplate.
Mark Beverly: Her opponent, from Detroit, Michigan, weighing one hundred thirty pounds: ECLIPSE!
Christian Cage: There’s something about this woman that we all better look out for.
Lance Storm: In a rare instance, I agree with you, Cage.
As soon as she enters the ring, Eclipse wastes no time in walking right up to Jetta, who stands in the center of the ring. Giving up five inches of height, Jetta has to stare up at her opposition. Referee Filipe Santana motions for the start.
Ding!
Immediately, the She-Borg throws a fast right-legged karate kick to the gut that topples Jetta to one knee before she quickly forces herself back up. Eclipse follows up with a low karate kick to the thigh, then a second, before the left leg surprises her lower abdomen, causing Jetta to fold up and slowly crumble to both knees with each strike. A loud sound of leather boot on human face fills the arena when one final kick from her nearly knocks the rookie’s head off her shoulders.
Lance Storm: I don’t foresee her coming back after a kick delivered like that.
Her body falls limp on the canvas and Eclipse takes her time rolling her opponent prone.
Filipe Santana: 1!.....
2!
KICKOUT
The arm used to get the shoulder up is quickly grabbed by Eclipse and suddenly Jetta finds herself in a cross armbar. Six shots to the legs seem to loosen Eclipse’s hold, but the two following to the grip effectively breaks it. Jetta quickly rolls away to find room to kip up.
Lance Storm: She’s athletic, that was smart.
Christian Cage: Or it was a waste of energy at way too soon of a time.
Lance Storm: I guess we’ll see about that - Eclipse with a side-headlock takeover and now she’s got another hold put in here. She’s definitely sticking to that ground and pound game in the early going, trying to wear Jetta out quickly and effectively.
Jetta has enough wherewithal and strength to manage around a smooth leg swing to get to one knee and disrupt the steady grip the She-Borg previously had. Jetta stretches out for an obvious elbow strike to the gut - so she had everyone believe, switching to grab both legs. Eclipse is not ready and she finds herself on her back when her legs are taken from under her.
Lance Storm: Look at this, Cage: Jetta with shades of the man she was talking to just minutes ago, our founder Bret Hart.
Christian Cage: What a damned kiss up!
Lance Storm: Eclipse is attempting to kick the hold away - and she caught her in the side, she’s got her hair - small package.
Filipe Santana: 1!.........
2!...........
KICKOUT
Lance Storm: These women won’t let either get the upper hand: both to their feet - Jetta ducks the clothesline but Eclipse lands a karate’s ushiro geri. Irish whip---no, quick reversal even while Jetta holds her gut, and Eclipse is to the ropes - spinning wheel kick by Jetta is ducked.
The She-Borg is back to her feet just as Jetta lands awkwardly thanks to the momentum expectation having been different. A brutal flying knee crashes into the face and the crowd boos at the first sight that there could be a definitive shift in momentum coming along. Her body rolls towards the ropes, a kin geri sending her rolling underneath the bottom rope, a lucky grab by her left leg and arm keeping her from hitting the mat. As Jetta pulls herself up, Eclipse is suddenly sprinting and planting for a mae geri.
Lance Storm: Jetta has dodged it and now Eclipse is in an awkward spot with her leg caught on the middle rope up.
Draping over the top rope, Jetta sees a chance and takes a tight grab of it before dropping her body down to the mats outside.
Christian Cage: She might’ve broken her arm! This damned savage!
The She-Borg looks the most human she has all night when her body recoils to the mat, grabbing at her arm.
Christian Cage: Oh would these people shut up?!
The crowd has popped at the shift, although Jetta keeps her focus on her opponent rather than letting the reaction soak in. Once in the ring again, Jetta grabs the arm to slam down on the mat aggressively before taking control of it again, planting it down and driving a high-Hart like knee to the bicep. One quick right jab dazes Eclipse who was previously fighting back against her setting up for the second.
Lance Storm: She’s getting a wider base, now, pulling Eclipse up with her just slightly - an elbow to that inside bicep. She’s found her spot. Another one finds its mark - arm drag and right into the submission.
Christian Cage: I don’t think Jetta’s gonna wanna keep sprawling with Eclipse on the ground like this. She’s already getting back up!
Eclipse is nearly to her feet when she all of the sudden drops and whips her own arm drag. Jetta almost senses the shift, however, holding onto the arm firm, rolling with her shoulders, and following through, causing a second arm drag of her own, this one breaking the grip.
Lance Storm: These women will not stay down.
Lance Storm is right, with both women immediately charging each other again, but a spinning kick to the face drops Jetta limp. Eclipse rolls into the hook of the leg.
Filipe Santana: 1!.......
2!............
KICKOUT
Lance Storm: That was the nearest fall yet, without any doubt.
Eclipse mounts the prone Jetta and sends one straight left jab that bounces her head off the apron. The She-Borg manages to land a quick right before Jetta is able to get her arms up to block the onslaught of blows that seem to just keep coming. Montreal pours in the boos as the referee has to begin to call off the action.
Christian Cage: That’s right! Beat her face in! Beat her asskissing face to a pulp!
Lance Storm: Goodness, Christian. The referee is to four.
Robotically, Eclipse stops and stands, pulling Jetta up with her. An Irish whip sends Jetta to the ropes.
Lance Storm: Sunset flip - wait no, what is this? I thought Jetta was going for a counter-sunset flip there, but she held onto Eclipse’s waist and now is belly-to-back hanging on like a backpack.
Christian Cage: Oh, look at this, Storm, look at the way she’s wrapping her legs around Eclipse’s arms and neck! I’ve seen Kurt Angle do this!
Filipe Santana: Do you want to quit?! Do you give up?!
Jetta’s ankles cross over Eclipse’s head, forcing her opponent into an incredibly uncomfortable looking position. The bigger woman attempts to make it to the middle of the ring to execute some sort of maneuver, but the use of energy might have been the nail in the coffin as she falls to a single knee.
Lance Storm: Jetta won’t let up and Eclipse’s head is falling, her eyes are glazing and slowly closing. That last knee is down.
Filipe Santana: Do you want to quit?! Eclipse?! Eclipse, can you hear me?!
Lance Storm: She looks out of it and the referee is raising the hand to check.
Filipe Santana: 1!
The arm raised one more time.
Filipe Santana: 2!
Jetta’s ankle-cross visibly tightens and Eclipse begins to lean even deeper. The arm raised and let go for the third time.
Filipe Santana: 3! Ring the bell!
DING DING DING!
Jetta releases the grip immediately and Eclipse’s body falls unconscious. Filipe Santana helps her to her feet.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match by technical knockout, advancing to the first round at AWF Gold Rush: JETTA!
The referee raises her hand from the center of the ring and the crowd cheers along her victory. She turns to notice Bruce Hart has made his first appearance in an AWF arena, clapping along for her on the stage.
Christian Cage: Oh, c’mon...
A proud smile comes across her face as she exits the ring and walks toward the back. The camera cuts to a vignette from earlier in the show’s weekly build. A woman.
Christina King
I have returned stronger than before. The five months I spent in recovery revealed to me the truth of me being. I can not be stopped. I can not be killed. Every injury serves to make me stronger. I am a warrior, born to do battle with the best and to take glory with my own two hands. I am a future legend. I am Christns King, the master of my own destiny and the maker of miracles.
A stage in an empty auditorium. The sound of Christina’s voice echoes throughout the building. Seats have been set up, but again they are empty. Upon the stage we see Christina, dressed in a black suit and tie outfit and a pair of black sunglasses. Her hair is slicked back. She is standing behind a podium and upon the front of the podium is a symbol that appears to be a phoenix, the symbol of rebirth to many cultures of the world. Upon her face is a smirk, like that of a cool car salesman ready to sell you something for far more than it’s worth.
Christina King
I carry a legacy of violence that began many generations ago. That legacy was passed to my mother and uncle, and then to me. I unleashed that violence upon the world of professional wrestling in 2019 and went undefeated. Many still doubt me, but my true believers know. They know that I am a true fighter, that I am the one woman who can win this tournament and take that championship. None can stand before my anger, violence, and madness and hope to survive. None.
You may doubt me because of my size. You many doubt me because of my past as a dance. Perhaps you doubt my accomplishments. These doubts act as nothing but fuel for my anger. It is true that, at one point, I was a naive child. It is true that during those times I underestimated many things but I have come into a great understanding of the ways of the world. It is in this way that I now live, as one who truly understands. Let me speak of my understanding so that you, too, will KNOW.
When I debuted I was given nothing. Underestimated as I was many fell before me. This is how I know that underestimating a rooking could easily lead to your downfall. I will give Laci Valentine her due in this way. You may be green but I know all it takes is one slip up to lose, one slip up to lose grasp of the greatness we stand on the edge of. You, however, have shown your true colors. You doubt my championship reigns. You doubt my ability. You focus more on my history and my past as a dancer than you do the danger of facing me. The danger is real, Laci.
The former magical girl turned MAD VILLAIN takes a step backwards and places her sunglasses into her front suit pocket. We see Christina’s piercing blue eyes. Then she takes one step forward and at the same time sends a kick with enough force to send the podium flying forward. When we see her face again she has a new, different look to her. One of absolute madness.
Christina King
Do I look like something you can easily walk over, Laci? Give me some damn respect, girl. I’m not doubting your obvious lack of skill but here you stand doubting me! I didn’t crawl out of the murk and mire of professional wrestling to be treated like some sort of joke! I’m her to rack up wins and take championships. I’m not here to lay down and let you walk all over me. Let’s get that straight right the fuck now. I may have persistent psychosis but I’m pretty sure you disrespected me. I may be on enough medication to make a normal person into a vegetable but I’m PRETTY SURE you spoke badly about me. I don’t like it Laci, I don’t like it at all.
I’ll fill you in. This kick you spoke of, it’s taken out legends and knocked out giants. It’s more than a ballerina kick, it’s a deadly weapon.Alone it would be enough to take out any single person, but it’s part of the arsenal of a woman who isn’t even sure what’s real anymore. That’s me, Laci. I’m a true madwoman. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I’m fueled by insanity and anger. Professional wrestling forgot about me while I was recovering and it’s time I reminded everyone who I am.
I don’t doubt that you can beat me, Laci. The question is how far you’re willing to go to win. Me? I’m willing to do anything I need to do. I’m willing to stop just short of taking your career.
Christina gives a firm nod and removes her sunglasses from her suit pocket. With a flick of her wrist Christina quickly places the sunglasses back upon her face.
Christina King
I clawed out of the muck and mire to be something more than a flake and a fluke. If I have to hurt you, I will. This isn’t about who hired me. It doesn’t matter how much money AWF is paying for me. All that matters is the battle and the prize at the end. On May 12th I’m going to unleash all of my madness upon Laci Valentine and it’s something everyone in AWF is going to want to watch very closely. I’ve been on the bench far too long.
Far too long…
Christina takes a deep breath and slaps herself, restoring a tiny bit of her senses.
Christina King
Step into the ring with me, Laci. Dance with me. And I will…. LET… MADNESS… REIGN!
Our hero reaches out with both arms, as if to hug her opponent. The scene slowly fades to black, and then back to the arena. We come to a shot of Mark Beverly stood in the middle of the ring.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is the first-hour main event, and is a three-way dance in the semi-finals of the inaugural Alberta Wrestling Federation World’s Championship tournament! In this bout, there will be no count-outs and no disqualifications; the only way to win is to successfully eliminate both of your opponents by pinfall or submission inside the ring.
Lieutenant Andorra begins to make the long walk towards the ring, the crowd going wild for their underdog champion.
Mark Beverly: Making his way down the aisle, from Andorra, weighing two hundred pounds: LIEUUUUUUTENANT! ANNNNDORRRRA!
He stops halfway and points at his family in the crowd, all the lads are there except Lucas, who isn't there. An empty chair sports a sign which reads 'Please help me find my son. He is Lucas. He is my son.' Lt. Andorra poses like the squirrel from the interpretive dance meme for a good 20 seconds, the music stops after 12. He holds the pose until a microphone is hurled at him and hits him on the left thigh. He fumbles around to pick up the microphone before looking intensely into the camera.
Another 20 boring seconds pass.
Lt. Andorra's manner suddenly changes into one of a warm entertainer, he offers winks and nods to the crowd but only his family returns them. When he eventually turns back to the camera, he speaks in a horrendous attempt at a Bruce Forsyth impression, sounding almost exactly like an Andorra attempting to do a Bruce Forsyth impression.
Lt. Andorra
Next up tonight we have me.
He pauses for a laugh which never comes.
Lt. Andorra
Last week I beaten up a man who has since probably explode somebody's Mama.
He pauses for another laugh, adding a chuckle of his own when the crowd again doesn't respond.
Lt. Andorra
Do I feeling responsible? Why you don't ask me after this fight now today and see if my today, my opponents today, my today opponents as well blow up a Mama as well.
There's a massive 'oooh' from one person in the crowd, his eight year old daughter MIRANDA. Lt. Andorra points at her and shouts 'ooh' before dropping the mic. After a moment he realises he still needs the mic and scrabbles around for it.
Lt. Andorra
Let's see how I got on in training.
From his stooped position he tries and fails to pull off a cool kneel. All eyes are on the titantron, which plays nothing. Trying to save face:
Lt. Andorra
I can tell you is was a diff -
The videotape starts playing.
EXT. ROCKY MOUNTAINS - DAY
Lt. Andorra and his entire family, including Lucas, but excluding his first wife because she was murdered by Rey Mysterio in the third most brutal act of vehicular manslaughter ever recorded in Andorra.
The famalam are having a picnic on top of a massive mountain. The oldest daughter, PENELOPE, is shouting loudly and very close to a mic.
Penelope
DAD YOU SAID YOU WANTED US TO HAVE A NICE FAMILY PICNIC TO BOND AND CELEBRATE YOUR VICTORY IN THE LAST MATCH BUT NOW YOU MESSED UP YOUR NAVIGATION AND WE'RE PICNIC-ING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES.
Cut to: Lt. Andorra is being interviewed with his family standing stock still behind him, facing in various directions.
Lt. Andorra
Is true, but what better places for family making memories than a big picnic! BIG PICNIC!
He runs back over to his family who all spring back to life chanting.
Family
BIG PICNIC! BIG PICNIC! PIG BINCIC!
Penelope
NOTHING CAN RUIN THIS DAY
The family hear the sound of barking behind them, Penelope especially has her eyes beam wide, a smile emerging on her face, as she looks at her father.
Penelope
And now a doggy! It just get better and better-
She turns, and a smile has never faded from a face so fast. There, before her, is not the cute doggy her mind promised her, but the very un-cute, bordering on incredibly disgustingly ugly… Prince Albert. He is clad in leather gear, a BDSM dog mask over his face, as drool drips through the small breathing holes that press disgustingly against his face.
Penelope
Umm… that's not a-
Albert whips his head around, and a piece of drool flings through the air, and lands square across Penelope's nose. She freezes for a second, in total shock and horror, before squealing a petrified and disgusted squeal, fanning her hands to her face.
Claudia, Andorra's second wife, having yet to encounter Rey Mystero and so thankfully still alive, runs over to Penelope with a wet wipe and begins to wipe the drool off of her face hectically. Despite usually hating her step-mother Claudia, Penelope is all too keen to get the drool off of her face. Andorra meanwhile runs over to Albert, and starts shooing him away.
Lt. Andorra
Away doggy! AWAY! Shoo! SHOO!
Claudia
It's not a real dog Juan!
?
But he's just as well-behaved as one.
The group look up, to see walking through the pleasant mountain path, behind Prince Albert, struts Hell's Favourite Harlot herself, Priscilla Kelly. Draped in all black, except her red-rose crown, and her red lipstick smile that finds its way to all of the family members sat around the picnic. Lucas, especially, gulps as he finds the smile come his way.
Priscilla Kelly
Nice picnic! Was a real long walk here but, me and my doggy really enjoyed the exercise, it's a lot different than the way we usually burn calories at least! I brought some stuff of my own too! I hope that's okay?
Claudia
What!? Juan! What is she doing here!?
Andorra looks confused at his second wife Claudia.
Lt. Andorra
You told me to invite along my opponent! You said she seems like nice mother!
Claudia
Sasha Foote, Juan! I meant Sasha Foote!
A pause.
Lt. Andorra
Is this not Sasha Foote?
Priscilla Kelly
Oh Juan Carlos, I'm better baby. Before long, you'll be glad about the mix up, trust me! That goes for all of you!
As she says this, she notices Lucas is staring at her. She sends a wink his way, and watches as he quickly looks at his feet, red faced. Miranda, the youngest of the children from Andorra's first wife, continues to look at Prince Albert peculiarly.
Miranda
What's your dog called?
Priscilla Kelly
Prince Albert.
Miranda
Oh, that's a cute name. What does it mean?
Priscilla Kelly
It's a piercing for your cock.
Silence.
Miranda
What's a coc-
Claudia
JUAN!
Andorra looks over at his second wife, who's bulging eyes implore for him to do something.
Lt. Andorra
Yes, absolutely dear.
He strolls up to Priscilla, a hand behind her back.
Priscilla Kelly
What you got for me?
Andorra tries to look innocent.
Priscilla Kelly
You're not subtle.
Andorra gives in, whipping from behind his back... a cheeseboard.
Lt. Andorra
We have a seleccion of cheeses for you and your chicken piercing to engorge yourselves on.
Claudia
That's not what she meant Juan.
Lt. Andorra
Please, can I serve my guests?
Claudia gives in, heading back to the picnic. Juan Carlos and Priscilla follow two steps behind. Claudia squares up.
Lt. Andorra
You are literally walking towards the picnic, where other place can I go?
Claudia
Whatever.
She goes to stand randomly somewhere else. Juan Carlos reaches the hamper, where Penelope is ready to hand over the contents.
Lt. Andorra
Firstly, we have grapes to go with your cheeses.
Penelope hands him the grapes.
Lt. Andorra
Every time, before the wrestle, I am eating the grapes and what do we call them familia?
Family
(in unison) GRAPES!
Lt. Andorra
No, the special name for the grapes.
Family
UVAS!
Lt. Andorra
No this is just grapes in eSpanish.
The kids look blankly at him.
Lt. Andorra
Is Grapes of Wrath.
Priscilla takes a grape and eats it impossibly slowly, making full eye contact with Lucas as she does.
Lt. Andorra
We call them the Grapes of Wrath, because it is giving me the power of wrath. To be wrath...ful, on my opponents, when I wrestle, with them.
He offers Priscilla more grapes.
Priscilla Kelly
So now, you're giving me the power to be wrath...ful?
Juan Carlos looks from the grapes to Priscilla. Claudia rolls her eyes. Penelope winces. Prince Albert starts licking himself.
Lt. Andorra
Next is crackers.
Priscilla Kelly
You better not -
Penelope hands him crackers.
Priscilla Kelly
Don't you fucking go there.
Lt. Andorra
'Cos I crack your backs when I do the wrestle with you?
Priscilla Kelly
Oh.
Lt. Andorra
What is it?
Priscilla Kelly
Nothing.
Lt. Andorra
Okay…
Priscilla Kelly
I thought you were going somewhere else and -
Lt. Andorra
Where?
Priscilla Kelly
I mean I'm not saying -
Lt. Andorra
But it's okay?
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah. It's lame but okay.
Lt. Andorra
Fine.
He awkwardly offers her a cracker, she slaps them to the ground, he looks sad, Lucas looks turned on. Normality has resumed.
Lt. Andorra
Meat pie.
Penelope hands him a bowl of strawberries. The two of them argue in Spanish for a second before Juan Carlos rips the picnic basket out of her hands and sarcastically pulls out a meat pie.
Lt. Andorra
Meat pie, cos in the end, you're all -
Priscilla slaps it to the ground, stamping it into the turf before shoving Penelope out of the way and upending the picnic hamper onto Juan Carlos' head. Tripping him, she sends him rolling down the hill into a small hedge.
Claudia
Oh hell no!
Claudia comes running.
Claudia
We invite you into our circle, our family time, my kids -
Family
We're not your kids!
Enrique-Arturo
I am!
Family
Shut up!
Priscilla throws a strawberry at her, knocking her down. Lucas can't take it any more, with love in his eyes he leaps to his feet and cheers. Priscilla blows him a kiss and he swoons.
Priscilla Kelly
Later familia, word of advice from ya' auntie Priscilla: leave home, I did.
With that she grabs Prince Albert and finally leaves. Lucas kicks Claudia in the shins, down the hill Juan Carlos looks proud to see him son adopt his signature move.
Lucas
Urghhh you dumb step mum you scared her away.
He grabs his bag and starts stomping off.
Claudia
Lucas! Where are you going?
Lucas
To live alone, in the wild.
Claudia
No.
Lucas ignores her and disappears into the unknown. Fade to: after the family has gone, Priscilla and King Albert follow the same track Lucas took into the mountains…
The sun can't make its way through the thick branches, and so a rather intimidated Lucas winces as he steps further and further through what has become a scary venture through the dark brush of the Canadian Rockies. He lost his father a bit ago, rather easily tricking him to bolt off in a different direction than Lucas himself planned to go.
Lucas was home-free now… but he wasn't sure if that was for the best.
Who knew what was up in these woods. Bears? Lions? Paedophiles like Roderick Kross? Maybe he should turn on his heels and go back to his mother and father, head held low in shame.
And upon turning around, he came face to face with the growling and snarling leather doggy, Prince Albert.
Lucas
AAAAAAGGGHHH!!!
Priscilla Kelly
Go doggy! Fetch!
A stick is thrown over the head of Lucas, into the bushes in the distance. Albert eagerly yips, before bounding over towards it, disappearing into the brush. Lucas turns slowly, and there, walking towards him, a small smile on her face, is Priscilla Kelly. His heart skips a beat, as his cheeks turn pink.
Priscilla Kelly
You alright honey? You decide to follow Auntie Priscilla's advice?
Lucas
Umm- maybe? I'm sick of Claudia.
Priscilla Kelly
Is that step-mum?
Lucas
Yeah. She's not my real mum. My real mum was killed in the third most brutal act of vehicular-
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah yeah I know, kid. Here, take a seat.
Priscilla sits on the floor next to Lucas, urging him to join her. The pair look off in the distance, as Albert slobbers all the stick in his mouth. It's at this point that Lucas notices it isn't a stick at all, it's big, and rubber looking, and black, and looks a lot more like a-
Priscilla Kelly
You remind me of me. I have a step-mum too, and she fucking sucks. Didn't hold a candle to my actual mum, just like I'm sure Claudia doesn't hold a candle to yours. My mum was cool, she was really stylish, and badass, and powerful, and she got me into wrestling. Really pushed for me to do the things I wanted with my life… then the old cancer got her.
Lucas
I'm sorry.
Priscilla Kelly
Hey it's better than some masked Mexican midget plowing into her at 120. That wasn't supposed to sound cruel by the way. I'm saying your situation was worse. I got to say goodbye at least, you didn't.
Lucas nods slowly. He looks up at Priscilla, who catches his eye for a second, and he's smitten by her beauty.
Priscilla Kelly
And then yeah, these new mums come along, just think they own the place. They aren't cool, or stylish, or badass, or into wrestling. They suddenly try changing your lives to what fits them, as if they've always been there. And you see your dad change too. And suddenly you're expected to drop wrestling, to pursue some fancy schmancy lifestyle cos it's what they want. And it's like, HEY, you came into my life, I didn't come into yours! Don't tell me what I can do, what I'm gonna be, who I can and can't fuck! Y'know? Well I mean, you might not know, you're like, 11 right?
Lucas
I'm 14 in eighteen months!
Priscilla Kelly
Oh okay. Well then, you will soon. You're a good looking kid… you'll definitely get some puss you trust me.
Lucas
What's puss?
Priscilla Kelly
Eh you'll find out at some point, you're young there's plenty of time.
A beat of silence.
Lucas
But, yeah, what you said before, about step-mums, like, yeah, that's like, that's it. That's right.
Priscilla Kelly
You feel it too?
Lucas
Yeah! Claudia sucks! She's not lovely and cuddly like mum used to be! And- like- you know like, she spends more time with Enrique-Arturo than any of the rest of us. That little pie faced bitch! And dad, he used to be so passionate, and focussed, and um- and like um- y'know!
Priscilla nods.
Lucas
And ever since we lost mum, he's so scatterbrained! And dumb! And Claudia just adds to it! And I'm sick of it! He used to want to make Rey Mysterio pay for what he did to mum, but now all he does is cry about it! And Rey's still out there! Wrestling and everything! And dad just accepts it!
Priscilla nods again, understanding, as she reaches her hand up and strokes Lucas' hair. The feeling of Priscilla's hand on his head, even momentarily, fills Lucas with butterflies, and he goes silent.
Priscilla Kelly
You're so fiery Lucas, you deserve to be around fiery people, who can fan your flames, not extinguish them. I can see that's what your dad's doing, extinguishing your flames, and Claudia too. I can see how much they rile you up… they don't get you do they?
Lucas has tears in his eyes.
Lucas
No.
Priscilla Kelly
I know, because that's how I was. That's how my dad became, and how my step-mum was, and you know what I did? I left them. I cut them off. I joined people who let me be what I knew I could be, and it was the best decision I ever made.
Lucas gulps.
Priscilla Kelly
It may hurt to hear it Lucas, but I'm going to beat your dad in our match on Tuesday, and I'm going to advance through to the finals. Because your dad has become content and complacent with not being good enough, he's not living the life he wants to live, whilst I long ago made the decision to do so. Your dad surrounds himself with people like Claudia, and that little pie faced bitch baby half-sister of yours, who don't push him. And Lucas, if you stay around them, if you don't act now, you'll become just like him. I know you love your mother, but you'll become complacent with letting her become just a memory. Not fighting for her honour, against the people who tore her away from you. Everything that lovely and cuddly woman pushed for you to be, will disappear.
Priscilla puts Lucas' hand in hers, he looks up at her, wide and wet eyes looking into hers.
Priscilla Kelly
But you come with me Lucas, you don't let her replacement sink into the norm. You let the messages and morals of your true mother stick with you, to influence what you become. You don't let some new bitch stroll in and change everything around like suddenly you're hers now and there's nothing you can do about it. If I stayed with my step-mum, there's no way I'd be who I am today, doing the crazy and badass things, taking what I want when I want.
She peers deeper into Lucas' eyes.
Priscilla Kelly
I get you Lucas, I do. Let me help you become you… like your dad can't.
Lucas gazes into the eyes of Priscilla, and it kicks in. She's right. She does get him, more than his dad has ever since mum died.
Lucas
Yes, okay. Yeah!
Priscilla Kelly
You made the right choice Lucas, trust me. You're gonna become one hell of a kid.
She kisses Lucas on the forehead. His whole body swims with emotions, as Priscilla jumps to her feet giddily. She extends her hand towards Lucas, and he takes it, being pulled to his feet by her impressive strength.
Lucas
Woah, you're strong.
Priscilla Kelly
Course I am Lucas, I'm a wrestler. Only reason I let doggy wrestle for me, is cos I make my own rules. That's how we do it now.
Lucas smiles, as Priscilla starts to merrily skip along through the brush, Lucas giddily skipping with her, as Albert crawls along behind the pair. The camera cuts back to the ring to show a close up view of Lieutenant Andorra who looks beside himself, not having seen the second half of the tape until just now.
Lt. Andorra: (featuring a voice crack) LUUUUUUCAAAAAAAAS!
Lance Storm: Lieutenant Andorra will have a chance to get his hands on Priscilla Kelly in this semi-finals first-hour main event. Will Lucas be there? Find out after this commercial interruption.
The following exclusive preview of ‘Rage 25/8’ is brought to you by iHeartRadio.
Raging Dead
Hey there! Hi there! Ho there! Oh noooo. That was a terrible way to kick this off. But… uhh… hey, this is Raging Dead and you’re listening to Rage 25/8… right here… on iHeartRadio! Today’s episode will be a little shorter than usual. I’ve got a two big matches to prepare for. Today, I’m recording from the Ralston Arena in Omaha, Nebraska. Tonight’s adventure is a three way dance between myself, a relatively unknown guy named John Black, and my lifelong frenemy Johnny Legend. Then before sunrise… I’ll be flying out to Montreal, Quebec, Canada… for another three way dance between myself… Max Ironside… and Athena.
It was right now that I realized I am in two similar matches… two days in a row. If all goes according to plan… I will be undefeated this week. Then again, maybe I won’t. I have lost almost as much as I have won. That consistency could continue this week. What’s most important is how I handle losses, not so much that losses happen. What’s fun in this scenario is that the result of either match has no bearing on the other. What happens in Action Wrestling tonight… has no relevance for what happens tomorrow in AWF. I remember a time when I worked for two different promotions… and one of them had me featured heavily in their main event scene. The other had me teaming with someone who… wasn’t exactly… good.
The idea was that I would help mentor that guy and my presence would boost his value in the company. We were on the losing end of several tag team matches, and that made the boss in the other company take notice. He thought that my tag team losses in one were affecting my value in the other as a top star. I tried to explain that they were completely separate entities… different viewers… different situation entirely. He wouldn’t budge and threatened to release me from my contract if I did not leave the other promotion. I stood my ground and fought for what I believed in. Guess what happened.
I got released from my contract and was able to put my full attention into the other organization where I was part of a not-so-great tag team. My tag team partner went on to grow in ability and popularity… and within one year he was the World Heavyweight Champion, going on a lengthy run at the top that nobody could have predicted in their wildest dreams. The morale of that story is that you never know how things are going to turn out, but you always have to stay true to yourself. I believed in the work I was doing to help create a new star, and I didn’t feel it was right to limit the work I do outside of one organization.
That brings me right back to AWF. While I absolutely desire to be the top guy here… I am not above lending a hand and helping create stars in the process. Last week… I pushed Rockstar Spud to his limit and he almost… ALMOST… took me out of the tournament. Watch what happens next. He’ll come back and fight harder than before this week on PrimeTime to avenge that loss. Even in defeat… he comes out stronger. The same could happen for my opponents this week as well. Max Ironside has taken a great deal of time to prepare for this match. He’s studied tapes. He’s gone out of his way to try to understand what exactly I’m capable of. He’s doing everything right to get himself in a position to move on to the next round. But… what if… it’s not enough?
What if all the time… and all the studying… doesn’t fully prepare him for what’s coming his way? How will he handle potentially losing to one of the strangest and seasoned veterans in the sport today? Yes, I am calling myself strange. That’s not a bad thing at all. My brain is just wired… differently. Head trauma aside… I suffered a stroke a few years ago that I never… fully… recovered from. At times… I have cognitive problems and paroxysms of rage. See, Max isn’t the only one who has to overcome obstacles just to compete. While his challenges are physical… mine are mental. We’re an odd pairing… but that makes this match all the more interesting. I like this kid’s heart… his passion… his determination. But… will it be enough… to stop the Raging Dead?
The true wildcard in this match is Athena. We don’t really know where her head is at. As the Goddess of War… she sure is keeping her plan of attack a mystery. That makes her dangerous to my chances of moving on to the finals of the AWF World’s Championship Tournament. To try to help me understand Athena… I have invited a very special guest to join in the conversation. She is a second-generation superstar… a former multi-time World Champion… the mother of my child… the woman crazy enough to take my hand in marriage… Sara Pettis!
Sara Pettis
That’s one hell of an intro.
Raging Dead
You’re the second guest on Rage 25/8… and the first one I didn’t have to have call in!”
Sara Pettis
I’m sure they figured out that we live together. Oh, by the way, I wasn’t crazy enough to marry you. You were crazy enough to marry me.
Raging Dead
Ah, that’s right. YOU were the one who proposed to ME!
Sara Pettis
I’m just new fashioned like that. That brings me right to the wildcard in your three way dance… Athena!
Raging Dead
Nice segway, hun.
Sara Pettis
Thanks. So, Athena… the Goddess of War. She made it to this round by surviving… by outsmarting… Kendrick Kross. You can tell that she’s got a hell of a background in amateur wrestling… but there are so many levels to who she is. She’s fast. She’s flashy. She looks to take on any mountain, no matter the size. It’s Athena versus the world… just the way she likes it. Along with her is her Bad Omens tag team partner Jetta… who could play a factor in the result of your match tomorrow night. They don’t seem like the type to take advantage of outside interference… but the chance to fight for the AWF World’s Championship lies in the balance. You never know what you’re willing to do in that situation until it happens.
Raging Dead
I’m willing to do anything to be champion.
Sara Pettis
That’s who you are. You don’t think like everyone else. When you say ‘anything’ you could mean something silly like jump through a wormhole in time to go back to when Athena or Max broke into this business… and break their spirit back then… so they don’t even make it to AWF.
Raging Dead
Daaaaamn! It’s like you’re in my head!
Sara Pettis
That was a storyline you and Steph did with action figures last week.
Raging Dead
It worked with action figures! It could work in AWF!
Sara Pettis
No. No, it couldn’t. I need you to take this match seriously. Athena and Max are not to be taken lightly. You’ve come too far to only go this far.
Raging Dead
Hey! That’s my line!
Sara Pettis
I know what you’re going to say before you say it. Don’t let Max or Athena figure out what you’re going to do before you do it.
Raging Dead
Okay… so I’ll keep quiet about the wormhole gimmick…
Sara Pettis
Sure. Just… try to keep yourself together tomorrow… please. You have preached about wanting to be the top guy in AWF. Well… prove it! Go out there and take no prisoners. Go out there and show them WHY you’re the top guy. Go out there and BE the Raging Dead!
Raging Dead
Great pep talk, coach.
Sara Pettis
What I’m wondering though… is how would YOU deal with losing tomorrow?
Raging Dead
I don’t even want to think about that.
Sara Pettis
But you SHOULD think about that. There’s a chance that this match could end without your input. It’s a three way dance. Max could defeat Athena. Athena could defeat Max. Either one of them could defeat you. There are more possibilities than just… you winning… as you expect. If… IF… you are unable to secure victory tomorrow… what’s next? Will you continue your chase for the AWF World’s Championship or… will you… do something… else?
Raging Dead
Without being the top guy in AWF… I would go back to my roots and see who would benefit most from me being their tag team partner. I was thrilled to see Christina King was signed to compete in AWF. For our listeners who aren’t aware… Christina is my niece… and she was the only one to defeat me in 2019.”
Sara Pettis
More or less.
Raging Dead
Sure. Regardless of how it happened… my notebook shows that she holds a win over me. Now she has resurfaced in AWF and I couldn’t be happier. I wish her the best of luck in the Provincial Championship Tournament. If things don’t work out for our championship ambitions… I would love to get the band back together and see about MadClan running wild all over AWF.
Sara Pettis
Oh no. Not that nonsense again.
Raging Dead
Nonsense? NONSENSE?! MadClan is a family!
Sara Pettis
No. Christina is your family. I don’t think you ever truly fit in with that group.
Raging Dead
Maybe. Maybe not. Imagine how cool it would be to see MadClan take on Best Friends… or Bad Omens… or… anyone!
Sara Pettis
That’s all fine as a backup plan… but first and foremost… you’ve got to focus on this tournament.
Raging Dead
You’re right. One match down. Two to go. Tomorrow will be a lot of fun… for me. For Max and Athena… only pain awaits. They should abandon all hope because all their base are belong to---
Big Homunculus
I stand here today for one reason and one reason only: To apologise.
The crowd boos.
Big Homunculus
I apologise to Bret Hart. I questioned his faith in me and his impartiality in his role but his true colours have shone through since then and he stands on the sometimes combustible side of the truth. If you want to be seen by him you've got to give him something good to see and I realise now we're all on a level playing field and must rise above the rest. By pinfall or elimination or by explosive arson. Due to my genetic malfunction I will struggle to rise even to eye level with most so I've got to go a little extra here and there, but what's the point in buying an XL suit if I can't one day grow into it?
Big Homunculus stretches his arms out and the armpits of his drastically undersized suit tear.
Big Homunculus
Even Armani can't hold me. I reserve an even bigger apology to all of you, and to myself. Last time I spoke I was trying not to lose and that was it. Well now I've eliminated last week's main eventer before the match has even started so losing is already impossible, I'm here to win. It's Pygmy Time! It's time for a little guy to win the match of giants!
The crowd are back onside and a chant of "PYGMY TIME! PYGMY TIME!" starts to build.
Big Homunculus
With one elimination I'm already in first place. I don't care how many banded bicep curls that butthurt bag of brittle bones Baron Boneius can bash out, he should stick to asinine assonance and alliteration and stay out of my way after what happened to the last person who Kross'd me. Rockstar Spud can boast about how tall he is all he wants but he'll be on the stolen pain pills when this is all over and I've cut him down to size. There's only one thing that can stand in my way and that seems to be the legal system-
Big Homunculus is abruptly cut off by the BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP of a Bin Lorry reversing. The beeping comes from the crowd, and through a large entry way, a garbage truck emerges. It reverses into the crowd, fans running for their lives as it runs over a few seats. It finally stops. Out of it emerges Ruxx Rampede, wrestling gear on, bin bag in hand, looking ready to fight. The crowd chant 'Bin Man of Boynton Beach We Love You So Much We Really Do You Are The Best Bin Man In Boynton Beach Or Just Any Beach Like Blackpool Beach And Other Beaches' in sync.
Mark Beverly: His opponents - first, from Boynton Beach, Florida, weighing in at two hundred seventy pounds: RUXXXXXX! RAMPEDE!
He runs down to the ring, swinging his bin bag above his head, and climbs into it. He comes face to face with Big Homunculus, then takes a step back, and pulls out a mic.
Ruxx Rampede
You think I'm gonna fight Big Homunculus?
The crowd cheer. Ruxx shakes his head. He grabs at his skin, and rips it off. The crowd are shocked, but then realise it wasn't his skin, just a skin suit, and he is actually wearing a business suit underneath. He throws his skin suit into the crowd, and it is caught by a hot Ruxx Rampede groupie who gives it a big fucking sniff.
Ruxx Rampede
Not a chance! I do not fight clients! Except tonight when I will fight him in the battle royal, but until then, I do not fight clients! Why is Big Homunculus my client you ask? Well, some allegations have been made about my poor brother here, and he decided to come to me for help. You see, we bin men make good lawyers!
Ruxx reaches into his bin bag, and pulls out a briefcase. He doesn't do anything with it. Just holds it whilst he speaks to look smarter.
Ruxx Rampede
Big Homunculus has been charged with blowing up the house of that bitch Roderick Kross. Let me put the record straight, you might think just because of our complexion that we are criminals, but that is of course racist.
Ruxx opens up his briefcase. He pulls out a picture of the KKK.
Ruxx Rampede
Like these men.
He stomps on it. The crowd nod.
Ruxx Rampede
My client may have been filmed at the house at the time of the explosion, which was filmed and shown earlier. But listen bitches, look at this.
Ruxx pulls out a clearly forged document.
Ruxx Rampede
This official document states that Big Homunculus is actually a trainee fireman or some shit, and he was actually inspecting the house for a gas leak. You see, my client was a hero. He tried saving that Irish bitch's house. He wasn't quick enough though, and fled the house quickly so he didn't die in the explosion. He also got that pussy boy Roderick Cockboy to quit, so is a bigger hero than any of you can fathom. Just so you all know, Roderick Kross was not only a bitch, but also a racist, and a pedophile.
The crowd nod. They understand. They also know Roderick Kross is a pedophile.
Ruxx Rampede
Who did do the explosion? Or gas leak or whatever? Dunno Rockstar Spud probably. Yeah it was actually. It was Rockstar Spud. I saw him. He threw a big stick of dynamite threw the window.
The crowd seem shocked.
Rockstar Spud appears on the ramp to rapturous applause but he doesn't acknowledge it. Spud is red faced and feeling the pressure of the intense investigative questioning.
Mark Beverly: From the Backseat of the Tour Bus, weighing one hundred forty one pounds: THE ROCKSTAR! SPUD!
Spud stays at the top of the ramp and begins to pace furiously, back and forth like a father waiting for the test results of his sick child. The crowds cheers dissipate into confusion.
Spud
(Off mic) Can someone get me a microphone please?
A stage hand throws a mic to Spud which Spud dramatically fumbles and bumbles and drops to the floor for a loud THUD. Rather than simply picking it up from the floor, Spud follows it down to ramp, bumping his head on the way down.
Spud grabs mic and lies in the foetal position on the stage.
Spud
Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
The crowd seem confused but interested.
Spud
Oh, my mums gonna be so disappointed.
The crowds confusion changes to shock.
Spud
I don't think I did it, see I remember every thing I did this week and it didn't include blowing up a house but Ruxx makes such an excellent case against me, oh gosh, maybe I did, oh I'm sorry mum.
Some children in crowd cry.
Spud
Let's see, motive, what's my motive. Well as we've discovered, Kross was a bad man, I do not like bad men in the slightest, bloody hell. On top of that he's a pedophile, crap, I'm 5'4" and boyishly cute, I'm a pedophiles wet dream, you can't get locked up for raping a grown man, probably.
Helpful Crowd Member
You definitely can!
Spud
Why thank you member of the crowd, how convenient you were here because no-one else but you and Ruxx could have possibly known that. Okay maybe he just threatened rape, wow now we're getting there but what else. Well Kross is a vertically challenged, good looking, fair haired, really hard dude, from across the pond, maybe I was threatened that he may take my spot.
The crowd laugh in rapturous hysterics, it's so loud that the building is shaking, Ruxx and Homunculus are also laughing at the notion of him being capable of taking anybody's spot. Homunculus falls to the ground in hysterics.
Spud
(Giggling) Yeah no, probably not that. (wiping away a tear of laughter) Probably just the pedo and bad man thing. Has anyone analysed the other evidence, hmmmm, this looks like a job for.
Rockstar Spud turns around, reaches into the pockets of his leather jacket and pulls out; a pipe and a deerstalker cap. he perches the pipe on his bottom lip and puts the deerstalker on, when he turns around he's no longer red-faced and nervous, he looks calculating and inquisitive.
Spud
LIKE A JOB FOR DETECTIVE SPUD! So evidence, evidence, evidence, hmmmm. Kross, spell it with a C and you have cross, Jesus died on one but that's irrelevant at this juncture. Cross, cross, another name for a cross is an X, if you double the X you have XX the chromosome of a woman.
The crowd are following on intently, some are making notes from the excellent Detective work being done by Detective Spud.
Spud
And XY chromosomes are male, male, male, male, what's a name for a young male.
Helpful Crowd Member
Colin.
Spud
Thank you for your prior legal advice helpful crowd member but leave this to the experts.
The crowd member sits down.
Spud
A young male, a kid, a boy, BOY! That's it, great. Other scrappy competitors, not just Roderick, hmm, me, no too easy, Scrappy Doo, no too shit, Melvin Doo, God I wish. Scrappy, who was scrappy, OH MY GOSH, BRAINWAVE, Tonya Harding, shorten it, Ton. So it's a boy and Ton, boy n' Ton, Boyton. There's only one active competitor in AWF from Boynton, wow holy hell.
The audience collectively gasp in shock.
Spud
(Puffing on his pipe) Who stood to gain the most from the explosion. Who parlayed a dead end career into one doling out legal advice, who has been outspoken on the incident although they know all the facts, without enlisting a super sleuth like myself, hmmm.
Spud walks down to the ring and climbs to the apron, with both Homunculus and Ruxx staring at him, Ruxx looks worried.
Spud
It seems to me that the answer has been staring us in the face this whole time.
Spud locks eyes with a nervous Ruxx. Ruxx is shaking.
Spud
(Spud offers his hand to Ruxx) Well Rampede, anything to say.
Ruxx shakes his head.
Spud
It was elementary my dear Rampede, who has been outspoken, Boy n Ton, Boynton, who parlayed their career.
The crowd are ready for the inevitable delivery.
Spud
(Grabs Ruxx's hand and shakes it) Thank you for the help old bean..... MOUNTIES ARREST THAT MAN!
Spud dramatically, points past Ruxx, past Homunculus and out into the crowd, beyond the front row, beyond the second into the third row. ROW 3 SEAT F, where sat looking down and crying is the HELPFUL CROWD MEMBER.
Mounties originally meant for Big Homunculus emerge from all corners of the building and accost the Helpful Crowd Member who does not struggle as he's been truly caught by a worthy adversary, AWF's greatest 1 promo Detective; DETECTIVE SPUD.
In the ring Homunculus and Ruxx are stunned, Spud cooly takes a final puff of his pipe before placing it down on mat, his Deerstalker he tosses to Homunculus who giddily grins, like the kids who Bret used to give his sunglasses to.
Spud shakes his head and the cool intellectual look on his face is gone, Detective Spud is gone. Spud lifts his arm in the air and gives a rock n' roll salute.
Before marching up the ramp in typical Spud fashion, bye bye Detective Spud, welcome back Rockstar Spud.
]ANNOUNCER
ROCKSTAR SPUD HAS LEFT THE BUILDING!.....
....
Well not the building, the ringside area, he has a match in about three minutes, oh whatever it sounded cool.
ROCKSTAR SPUD HAS.... Oh you know what never mind, the moments gone.
As chaos and confusion reigns, Big Homunculus stretches his limbs out until his undersized suit tears to smithereens around him. He walks over to Lawyer Ruxx and shakes his hand.
Big Homunculus
When next we meet we will be rivals, but never enemies.
Homunculus rolls under the bottom rope and gestures to a nearby runner who throws him some sort of backpack. Homunculus puts on the back pack and leaps from the ring apron, pulling a string on the backpack which releases a full size parachute which totally envelopes him by the time he has made the three foot drop to the ground.
As Homunculus tears through the parachute, a freshly signed referee approaches.
Referee:
What are you doing? Your match is about to start!!?
DWARVEN CHOKESLAM! The ref twitches on the ramp as Big Homunculus marches backstage. Once out of sight we see on the titantron a shot of an atlas which zooms in on a random part of central Africa until we're amongst thick woodland. We see the vague outline of a gangly character moving through the trees. Bad video effects are used intensely throughout the vignette, almost without shame.
Big Homunculus narration
Before re entering the ring where I have been created and destroyed I must find who I am. I must seek my beginnings and rekindle what created me. I was not made in the ring or the gym but in the wild.
The gangly character is illuminated as some form of hirsute big foot-esque beast. Big Homunculus charges out of nowhere and running headbutts the bast into a tree before feasting on its still warm flesh.
In a different part of the woodland, Homunculus now wears the creature as a hooded coat. This will be his entrance attire from now on.
Big Homunculus narration
I'm a pack animal without a pack. I want to call out in my native tongue, but speaking in the Pygmy dialect is forbidden for those who have been banished.
Through a sniper scope, we see Big Homunculus making his way through the forrest. With the beast's hide on his back he looks like a wild mammal. A poacher operates the sniper. He adjusts the lens and looks again but Homunculus is nowhere to be seen. He turns around and Homunculus is towering over him.
Big H casts the gun aside and lifts the poacher up for a chokeslam. At the height of the slam a 2006 nokia ring tone is heard. Big Homunculus reaches in his new hooded coat and answers.
Big Homunculus
You've got Homunculus. Oh?...Oh shit of course, the redemption royale! Why didn't anybody tell me it was about to start?
Big H folds up the poacher, places the poacher into the poacher's own back pack and puts it on.
Big Homunculus
I don't have much time. To the spirit of the forrest, recognise me as your son. Carry me to where I am most needed!
A wind blows around him, the leaves shaking as the wind builds into a violent bluster shaking the trees themselves. Big H is blown off balance at first, then gradually lifted into the air, higher and higher until he's out of sight.
Back in the arena and the crowd stand in bemused confusion as the titantron goes blank. There is a sound of wind battering the outsides of the building. A loud guttural scream can be heard echoing around the arena. The titantron now shows the car park backstage and Homunculus seemingly falls from the sky onto a Ford Fiesta, badly denting the hood and smashing the windshield. The poacher in his backpack breaks his fall, acting as a wet, bloody airbag.
Big Homunculus bounces to his feet. Ruxx still has not moved from the ring, but has been slowly undressing from his business suit, into his ring gear underneath. He throws his business suit to the same Ruxx Rampede fangirl in the audience, who rubs her face against it lovingly. Ruxx turns back towards the stage, and starts stretching, preparing for his opponents.
Out first, straight back from his random adventure to Africa, is Big Homunculus, draped in his creature hide, and carrying his step ladder. The enamoured cheers from the crowd return, ecstatic to see the Nonce Slayer make his way back to the ring. The referee that was previously hit with a Dwarven Chokeslam on the ramp is just stirring, getting to his feet slowly. He turns around, to be met by the sight of Homunculus once more. DWARVEN CHOKESLAM ONCE MORE!
Lance Storm: We just signed him this morning.
The referee spasms on the ramp and goes still, as Homunculus moves away from the wreckage he has left. Homunculus uses his step ladder to climb into the ring, rolling under the bottom rope, until he comes face to face with his lawyer Ruxx Rampede. The pair nod at one another, respectfully, before Homunculus turns to the ramp as his theme music switches to Rockstar Spud's.
Christian Cage: Did these men know their match was literally on next when they all started moving to the back?
Rockstar Spud bursts out onto the stage, as if he hadn't just previously been there only minutes ago. Christian shakes his head disapprovingly, as Spud moves down the ramp energetically, high fiving the fans on either side, before bounding into the ring, showcasing his energetic prowess.
He comes to a standstill between his two opponents, and is slightly daunted by the sheer size difference between them (though Homunculus would see otherwise). Nonetheless, his face grows serious and determined, their size does not matter, only how hard they fall. He backs up into a corner, leaps onto the turnbuckle, and raises his arms to cheers from the crowd.
And then, the lights start to go erratic, as the familiar terrifying theme of one Barron Boneius plays out.
The cheers for the other three competitors are no more, replaced with boos that almost drown out the music. Dark smoke rises from the stage, obscuring the dark silhouetted figure that emerges through it… a huge figure, muscles upon muscles, closer to Hulk than man. Another smaller figure rides atop the hulking one, and out of the smoke, sounds the shrill evil cackling of two men.
Mark Beverly: Being accompanied to the ring by Snivley, from the Kingdom of Foreverton, weighing in tonight at two hundred forty five pounds: BARRON! BONE! IE! US!
The silhouette moves forth from the smoke, revealing the purple and blue garb of a humongous Barron Boneius, his skeletal face contorted into a devilish grin. Snivley rides on his back, an ugly and disgusting smile of his own, as he knows what chaos his Master can now bring in his new drug induced form.
Barron Boneius makes a slow walk down to the ring, purposefully so, as to enhance the boos, only causing him to cackle further. 'You fools and dolts! You should enjoy my slow walk! The longer it takes for me to reach that ring, the longer your heroes can live their precious lives!!!'
Christian Cage: Pure evil has never been so friggin’ rad!
He finally reaches the ring, and as he climbs inside, Snivley starts to root around under the ring apron. He grins giddily, as he slowly starts to pull out a table, a big skull painted across it. He cackles as he sets it up, and Boneius grins, eyeing up his opponents to see which he will throw over the top rope, and through said table.
Snivley finally clambers into the ring and giggles, running circles around his liege and hopping about in excitement. The other three look on in disgust, especially at Snivley, who appears to repulse all three of them. Boneius removes his helmet slowly.
'You did not expect this did you!' Boneius starts, 'You did not foresee that the previously much smaller Barron Boneius would be such an image of incredible intimidation! Bask in me, you bin men and rockstars and large midgets… bask! And let it be the last thing you all do with your pathetic lives!'
'BASK IN MASTER!' screams Snivley.
With all four men in the ring, including an overly eager Snivley, ready for the match to begin, no more waiting is necessary.
...The bell rings.
The Redemption Royale has begun.
Snivley is the first to move, darting hard and fast at Rockstar Spud, assuming him to be an easy target. But his attack is clocked easily by the much more skilled man, and Rockstar flips through the air, cracking a harsh enziguiri across Snivley's skull. A bit of snot goes flying from the nostril of Snivley into the crowd, as he dizzily tumbles into the grip of Big Homunculus. The giant Dwarf pushes him away from him, before landing a harsh left hook across Snivley's face.
Snively's neck almost snaps under the force, as the grey repulsive object stands in place for a few moments, his legs buckling, ready to collapse. Before he can though, Ruxx Rampede bounds off the ropes, and connects hard with Snivley with a huge POUNCE!
Lance Storm: The Ruxx Stampede! He hits Snivley with it!
Snivley soars through the air, before crashing into the large and toned stomach of Barron Boneius, ricocheting off of it, and plummeting to the mat at the Barron's feet. Boneius grimaces at his stupid minion, before looking up at his three opponents, all of them having displayed what they've got.
Boneius only cackles, and stomps his large boot onto the head of Snivley. The minion squeals, then goes stiff, as Boneius boots him flying to the concrete floor outside. Boneius steps forward.
'Who will challenge me first?'
And it's Rockstar Spud.
He darts at the hulking villain, jumping through the air for another enziguiri, but Boneius counters. He ducks, and goes to follow up with a clothesline, only for Spud to have an answer in return. Spud runs under the clothesline, at the turnbuckle, springs off of it, and hits a front dropkick to the face of Boneius, knocking him backwards slightly.
Ruxx tries to follow it up on this, hitting a few forearms into the face of Boneius, getting him into the turnbuckle. He attempts to follow up with a splash, but Boneius shoots forward, crashing a headbutt hard into Ruxx's chin. The Bin Man goes down hard, and Boneius moves straight from Ruxx into Spud. Before the Rockstar can respond, Boneius clatters him with a huge lariat, and Spud is down and out.
Christian Cage: He’s like a boss! This is everything he’s ever wanted!
Boneius looks up from the pair that he has taken down, up to the figure of Big Homunculus, stretching into the sky. He moves forwards and squares up to the Giant Dwarf, who glares wide eyed at the Evil Villain of Foreverton.
'Your size does not intimidate me!' Homunculus states.
'Then you are as simple as you are ugly!' Boneius returns, 'There will be no driving me from this place, you giraffe of a man! I have no loved ones to erradicate in a fiery explosion! My only love… is for the suffering of others!'
Boneius swings back his arm, and goes for a right hook, but Homunculus dodges it, before landing a flurry of punches into the face and torso of the Skeletal Villain. Boneius reels backwards, oofing and owing, as he is almost knocked off his feet by a swinging left hook to the temple. He tumbles into the ropes, and Homunculus sends him off with an irish whip. Boneius returns, straight into a big boot to the face!
Boneius topples backwards, before letting himself tumble through the middle ropes, where he collects himself on the outside, leaning against the table Snivley has set up for him.
Lance Storm: Important to mention Barron Boneius is not eliminated there! He went through the middle ropes, you have to go over the top to find yourself out of this match-
Christian Cage: Thanks Lance we know! How many battle royales have there been in wrestling by now?!
Homunculus, still inside the ring, measures Boneius on the outside. He bounds at the ropes on the other side of the ring, before charging back… SUICIDE DIVE! Straight through the middle ropes! Clattering Barron Boneius as the two tumble into Snivley's Table, almost knocking it over! The crowd go crazy seeing a man of Homunculus' height perform such a maneuvre.
Homunculus holds a dizzy Boneius in place, before he wraps his large fingers around his throat, readying him for a Dwarven Chokeslam! But wait- Ruxx Rampede comes charging around the corner! RUXX STAMPEDE! He smashes both men with a huge POUNCE! Homunculus goes flying spine first into the apron, as Boneius tumbles onto Snivley's Table, laying precariously across it!
Ruxx starts beating his chest enthusiastically, the crowd cheering him on. Spud is to his feet, and sees the Bin Man on the outside of the ring, and thinks fast. Climbing through the middle rope, Spud gets onto the apron, and as Ruxx turns around, the Tour Bus Terror springs off of the middle rope, and hits a picture perfect MOONSAULT onto Rampede!
But the Bin Man catches him!
Lance Storm: Catching all those sacks in his freetime is really working out for Ruxx.
Christian Cage: Did you just try to make an innuendo?
Lance Storm: Of course not, Christian; sacks of trash.
Christian Cage: Uh-huh.
He holds a struggling Spud in place, aiming him at the corner post! He charges at it, but Spud wiggles off of his shoulder just in time, pushing at Ruxx and using his momentum to send the Bin Man face first into the steel ring post! Ruxx's head bounces off nastily, as he careens away from it into the barricade.
Spud backs up a bit, before taking a huge run up at Ruxx… he hits him with a huge Spinning Wheel Kick! Ruxx topples over the barricade, and lands into the laps of the fans sitting front row, including his very enthusiastic fangirl. She cradles the Bin Man's head as he lays dazed and dizzy in her lap, weeping with excitement.
Spud turns around, and sees Homunculus at his feet, lumbering towards him in what is an intimidating sight. Spud runs at Homunculus, attempting to flatten him with a dropkick, but Homunculus catches Spud by his legs, and swings him around until he bashes Spud's head nastily against the side of the ring apron.
Spud reels around on the floor, as Homunculus picks him up by the neck, ready to slam him with a Dwarven Chokeslam. Spud bats and pries at Homunculus' arm, but it's no use, his grip is too tight! Boneius starts to stir from his position on the table, sitting up, only to be greeted too by a clutching hand around the throat from Homunculus.
The Giant Dwarf has the pair, Spud in one hand, Boneius in the other, but before he can capitalise, the much stronger Boneius slams a mighty forearm down on Homunculus', and breaks his grip on him. Boneius follows up with a rake to Homunculus' eyes, causing him to let go of Spud too. Spud capitalises quickly, and cracks Boneius with a Superkick to the jaw! Boneius' head snaps backwards, as he collapses back into his position layed on Snivley's Table.
Spud sees his chance.
With Homunculus still toppling around, holding at his hurt eyes, Spud runs for the apron and jumps back onto it. Homunculus slowly stumbles into the perfect position, and Spud gulps as he readies himself. He hops from the apron, successfully feet first onto Homunculus' shoulders, propping him high high into the air. He peers down at Boneius on Snivley's Table, and leaps!
5 STONE SPUD SPLASH FROM HOMUNCULUS' SHOULDERS! RIGHT INTO BONEIUS!!! THROUGH THE TABLE!!!
Christian Cage: I’m having PTSD-induced flashbacks.
The crowd go wild, as Spud and Boneius lay in the wooden wreckage around them, both hurt and in pain! Spud slowly starts to pull himself to his feet, clutching hard at his stomach, as he roars an adrenaline filled roar, matching the enthused cheers of the crowd. He turns around though, and is flattened by a huge big boot from Homunculus!
Spud is tossed back into the ring, as Homunculus follows him inside. Spud tries to get back to his feet quickly, but his legs are still wobbly. Homunculus grabs him around the head, and tosses him hard at the ropes! Spud goes straight over the top…
But he clutches on!
Homunculus doesn't notice, as Spud skins the cat, and lands himself back into the ring. He's not done yet. Homunculus turns around slowly, to see the 5,4 of Sweat and Sex Appeal is still there, he charges at Spud, but Spud is quick, and kicks out Homunculus' leg. Homunculus topples to his knees, before Spud charges up…
SWEET POTATO MUSIC! Huge Superkick to the jaw of Homunculus!
The Giant Dwarf is rattled, tumbling backwards into the ropes, as Spud charges at him once more! He slams Homunculus with a clothesline! Homunculus teeters backwards, but he doesn't go over the top rope! Spud tries again! He charges at the opposing ropes again, and returns with another HUGE clothesline! Homunculus teeters… BUT NO! He stays in it!
That's it! Rockstar Spud bolts at the ropes a third time, and with all his momentum… spins through the air for a SPINNING WHEEL KICK!
Homunculus catches him!!! Before Spud can react, Homunculus tosses him over his head, over the ropes! Out of the ring!
NO! Spud lands on the apron! He hangs on!!!
Lance Storm: Spud’s small, but hell if he isn’t cagey.
Homunculus topples forwards into the ring, before turning around… Spud springs off of the top rope! SPRINGBOARD DDT!!! He fells Homunculus, and the pair both crash hard to the mat! Spud is on fire! Too pent up with adrenaline, he jumps right back to his feet, not giving himself time to rest, as he soaks up more adoring cheers from the fans!
But his eyes rest on the front row ahead of him, where Ruxx had been knocked into, and Ruxx is nowhere to be seen. Spud gulps, before he turns around, and is wrestled straight into position on Ruxx's shoulders! The Bin Man gives an almighty roar, as he splatters Spud onto the mat with a huge Alabama Slam!
Spud doesn't get long to lay on the mat, as Ruxx wraps both his arms around Spud, and with an incredibly impressive feat of strength, deadlifts him straight above his head for a Military Press! The crowd whoop, as Ruxx showcase his strength by pressing Spud a few times, before his eyes lock on Homunculus on the mat.
Whilst usually his client, right now, Homunculus is his opponent, and so Ruxx doesn't hesitate, before he slams Spud down hard into the abdomen of a downed Homunculus! The pair both squirm on the mat in pain, as Ruxx admires his handy work… before a second idea comes into his head.
He claps his hand together, as the crowd quieten down in anticipation for what is about to happen as he again eyes up the 6,10 Big Homunculus. He bends down, and to the utter amazement of the crowd, he deadlifts Big Homunculus above his head! The crowd are shocked, but cheer wildly as Ruxx starts to military press Big Homunculus, before aiming the Giant Dwarf down at Rockstar Spud, and with a huge slam, makes the two connect again!
The two men writhe around in pain once more, as Homunculus slams hard across Spud. The Bin Man whoops in excitement, before he is quickly turned around. A cape swoops across his face, distracting him momentarily, before he is sucker punched in the nose! Boneius is back to his feet, the crazy amount of steroids in his system allowing him to heal from the pain of going through a hard wood table much quicker than it should the average man!
Boneius locks Ruxx around the neck, and aims him at the ropes, pushing him throat first against the top rope as to choke the life out of the Bin Man! Ruxx is clearly struggling to get air, and to make matters worse, Boneius starts to deliver nasty, brutal elbows to the top of Ruxx's skull! Ruxx grits his teeth in pain, whilst Boneius only cackles!
He tosses Ruxx backwards into the ring, before charging at him, and downing him with another vicious running elbow! With Ruxx down, Boneius moves over to Rockstar Spud, and lifts him to his feet, before pressing him against the turnbuckle.
'Want to put me through a table aye!? You prickly, perpetually putrid potato man!'
Boneius grabs Spud by the hair, and starts to slam him hard, face first, over and over again into the top turnbuckle. Spud tries his hardest to fight against the oncoming unconsciousness, but it's no use, after the 8th consecutive slam into the only barely protected steel, it's too much for the Pint Sized Pariah to take.
Christian Cage: (in Barron form) BEHOLD!
Boneius chuckles as Spud becomes dead weight in his hands, before dragging him by his hair into the middle of the ring. He props Spud up to face him, and before Spud can clatter to the mat unconcious, Boneius lands a nasty right hook straight to Spud's nose! It busts, and a bloody Spud collapses to the mat!
'I'm done losing to miniature mongoloids like yourself! It happened once! It will not happen again!'
Boneius picks Spud up by his bloody face, watching as the crimson oozes down onto his chest, and cackles some more. Seeing the sight excites him. He just can't help himself, he gets a handful of the blood dribbling from Spud's nose, and starts to smear it all over the Rockstar's face. The crowd boo, only warranting Boneius to enjoy it more.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, it is Homunculus, to his feet now and ready to join back in the action. Boneius is ready for him though, and flicks some of Spud's blood into his eyes! Homunculus cries 'No my eyes! Not again!', before he is knocked staggering backwards by an elbow to the chin by Boneius.
Boneius laughs again, as he turns back to continue playing with the bloody and battered Rockstar Spud. He gets into Spud's face.
'Remember this face you silly little-'
LOW BLOW! Spud crashes his forearm right into the testicles of the Sworn Enemy of Good! The Barron lets out a nasally and agonising moan, as he clutches at his injured gonads! Spud spits blood into Boneius' face, causing the Barron to clutch at his eyes as he groggily dances around on the mat! Spud is at his feet, and leaps into the air, locking his legs around the back of Boneius' head!
REVERSE FRANKENSTEINER!
Boneius lands head first onto the mat, crumpling nastily onto his front, as a bloody and dazed Spud rolls away from him, finally giving himself time to catch his breath. Boneius meanwhile holds the top of his skull in pain, trying to get to his feet, but unable to due to the pain. The situation grows much worse for him, as Homunculus arrives on the scene.
Still standing, Homunculus lands fist after fist into the face of Boneius, grounding and pounding him to an almost unconscious state in the ring. Homunculus finishes the ground and pound by locking his tight grip around the throat of Boneius, lifting him from the ground right into the air, before smashing him down with a HUGE DWARVEN CHOKESLAM!!!
Ruxx is over with Homunculus now too, and the two men give each other a respectful nod. Looking down at the Dark Overlord of Evil, Ruxx moves over to the turnbuckle, and starts to climb… he measures Boneius, as Homunculus holds him in place, and he leaps…
THE TRASH COMPACTOR!!! HUGE Elbow Drop from Ruxx!
Ruxx lifts Boneius to his feet, before he and Homunculus aim him at the ropes. They both charge together, and toss Boneius! The Barron soars through the air, over the top rope… but he lands onto the apron! He's still in this!
Ruxx charges at Boneius to finish him off, but the Barron dodges the attempted forearm, and returns an elbow of his own! Ruxx collapses, and Homunculus takes his turn to follow up! He takes a huge swinging left hook at Boneius, but the Barron ducks that too! He sucker punches Homunculus in the side of the head, and the Giant Dwarf topples over to the the mat too!
Boneius cackles, 'I am the Dark Overlord of Evil! Do you think I can be defeated in my current state! Look at me! LOOK AT ME!' Boneius shakes his fists in the air victoriously!
Rockstar Spud is at his feet, and wastes no time! He bounds off of the middle rope, springboarding through the air, before crashing a hard dropkick over the head of Barron Boneius! The Barron is sent flying through the air, right off of the apron, in a path towards the concrete floor below…
BUT SNIVLEY IS UP! He dives through the air, landing perfectly in the path of where Boneius' feet are about to hit! One hits the floor, but the other lands firmly on Snivley's chest!
Lance Storm: WHAT!?!!
Christian Cage: Snivley!!! Snivley caught him! Only one foot didn't touch the floor! He's not eliminated!
Boneius is in shock, as his foot rests on the chest of the bruised and battered Snivley. Boneius looks from Rockstar Spud, to the grinning face of Snivley below him, who's arms he currently sits in. After a moment of stunned silence, Boneius begins to cackle, and the crowd start to boo. Spud is furious, as he looks out at the jovial and gigantic Boneius.
Boneius looks down at Snivley below him, and with not a thanks in sight, starts barking orders at him once more. 'Shuffle Snivley! SHUFFLE I TELL YOU!' And Snivley does so, shuffling his body underneath Boneius, as to make a bridge of his own body leading over to the steel steps. Boneius guffaws, as he starts to step across Snivley, stomping down on him overly harshly as he successfully makes his way over to the steel steps without touching the floor.
Spud readies himself for Boneius, as the Overlord slowly and eagerly moves back onto the apron from the steel steps. Spud darts for him, trying to knock him straight back out of the ring with a clothesline, but Boneius ducks.
'MASTER!' Snivley shouts, prompting Boneius to turn to him. And Snivley chucks to the Barron, none other than his Bone Batton!
Spud twists around, ready to follow up on Boneius, but he is clobbered across the head with the Bone Batton! Spud crashes to the nat, more blood spurting from his bloodied nose, as the Barron makes his way back into the ring!
Ruxx charges at Boneius, but he ducks Ruxx's swinging, clubbing arm, before stabbing at his stomach with the Bone Batton! Ruxx keels over in pain, holding at his bruised abdomen! Homunculus is at his feet too, but before he can react, he takes a nasty shot to the head from the Bone Batton! Homunculus is down!
Lance Storm: That Bone Batton is deadly and Boneius is a damned dangerous force this week.
As the Giant Dwarf clutches at his head, Boneius only cackles, as he reigns down shot after shot after shot at the downed Homunculus. Ruxx is to his feet, and seeing the brutally being inflicted on not only his client, but his friend, he roars as he jumps into action. Boneius knew this would happen though, and twists through the air, launching the Bone Batton and watching as it rattles Ruxx between the eyes!
The Bin Man clutches at his newly injured face, as he tumbles blind into the ropes. Boneius follows up quickly, grabbing at Ruxx's legs, and lifting him high into the air! The blind Ruxx tries to grab onto the ropes, but the movement is too quick and disorienting! He can't take a hold of a rope…
Ruxx sails straight over the top rope, and out of the ring! Clattering hard to the concrete on the outside! Ruxx Rampede is eliminated from the match!
The boos are at an all time high now, as Ruxx looks distraught on the outside, face in his hands as he lays on his back.
Christian Cage: Damn you bin men of the world!
His chances for Redemption are dashed. Boneius relishes in the response, the negativity from the crowd, the sheer disappointment and fury. The misery. The tears. Yes, this is why he is here, moments like these.
He turns around into a Pele Kick from Rockstar Spud! The crowd come to life again, as Boneius topples backwards, into the ropes! Spud bounds off of the ropes on the opposite side of the ring, and charges at Boneius, ready to whack him straight out with a huge impending lariat!
But Snivley is in the ring!
He positions himself between Spud and Boneius, hands up, pleading with Spud to stop! Spud comes to a halt, more out of shock than anything else, before his anger at the ugly grey minion sets in! He throws a quick jab to the face of Snivley, before locking a grip around his neck, and charging at the opposing ropes, sends Snivley soaring over the top and straight out of the ring!
The crowd cheer as Snivley almost reaches the ramp with how ferociously Spud tossed him. The Rockstar turns back to look at Boneius, and points at him, indicating to the crowd that he plans to do the same to him. The crowd cheer in response, as Spud grips around Boneius' neck like a vice! He aims him at the ropes, and starts to charge…
BUT BONEIUS TWISTS IT AROUND!
Using Spud's own momentum, Boneius shoves Spud at the ropes! Spud tries to hang on, but the blood on his hands causes him to slip!
SPUD FALLS OUT OF THE RING!
Another shower of boos, as Spud jumps to his feet, outraged, as he looks up at the cackling Barron Boneius inside the ring. He slaps his knee in his laughter, as the crowd scream and cry, aggressively angry at the cheap elimination of Rockstar Spud.
Boneius only bows at them in return, before turning his attention to Big Homunculus.
The crowd start to cheer and support the Giant Dwarf, chants of 'PYGMY TIME!' echoing all throughout the arena. Boneius only chuckles, moving over to his Bone Batton and picking it up, knowing the chants are helpless. There is no saving the bruised and battered Homunculus now.
Using the end of his Bone Batton, pressed under the chin of Homunculus, Boneius lifts a dazed Homunculus to his knees. He chuckles, as he aims the side of his Bone Batton against Homunculus' face.
'The next explosion… will be your head!'
And Boneius rears back the Bone Batton, before swinging it down as hard as he can against Homunculus' temple!
BUT HOMUNCULUS SWINGS A HOOK OF HIS OWN!!!
He CONNECTS with the Bone Batton!!!
The Bone Batton snaps in half, both halves careening in different directions, off into the crowd! The arena goes wild with cheers, as Boneius is lost for words! He looks in shock and horror at his newly empty hand!
The only thing he can think to say is…
He looks back down at Homunculus, who sends a jab at his face, knocking Boneius back! And then another, and another, a flurry of jabs batting at Boneius and sending him further and further back until his back his against the ropes.
Boneius' head is spinning, and he shakes his head as to regain his full composure, only to see a huge, gigantic left hook heading right towards his face.
'Darn it Snivley!' he mutters, before the HUGE LEFT CLOCKS HIM!!!
Boneius careens through the air, back flipping straight over the top rope! Snivley darts towards him once more, but he isn't fast enough! Boneius collides with Snivley's head, and the two land awkwardly and nastily to the concrete!!!
Barron Boneius is eliminated!!!
Big Homunculus wins!!!
The crowd erupt into huge cheers that almost brings down the building!
Christian Cage: The Damned Dwarf’s done it!
'PYGMY TIME!' chants echo across the whole crowd, as Big Homunculus raises his arms in victory in the middle of the ring. His eyes is a display of happiness and shock, he almost can't believe he was able to come out on top in such a fierce affair! He clutches at his body in pain, his opponents gave him the fight of his life, but god did it make the victory taste more sweet!
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, receiving the bye in the first round of the AWF Provincial Championship: Big! Homunculus!
From the ramp, a disappointed looking Rockstar Spud starts to clap. He wishes it was he there, holding his arms up high in the ring, but at least it wasn't Boneius. Spud knew he had what it takes though. He will raise his arms in victory one day, perhaps with a World Championship Belt in hand. With a few more claps, Spud turns, and heads for the back.
Boneius meanwhile starts to stir, his eyes red with anger, as he looks over at Snivley, who gulps.
'SNIVLEY YOU DIMWITTED BOOB!!! I'LL HAVE YOUR REPULSIVE GREY HIDE FOR THIS!!!'
Boneius chases his terrified minion up the ramp to the back as well, the crowd laughing at the pair as he does so. Meanwhile, in the ring, Ruxx has climbed in, and moves over to face Big Homunculus. He gives him a respectful nod, before grabbing one of Homunculus' long arms, and raising it into the air, before pointing at him. The crowd cheer once more for their winner, the World's Tallest Dwarf, Big Homunculus. Commercial.
Well placed advertisement for Human Growth Hormones.
’Surviving Val Venis’ available for digital download in its entirety this 4th of July!
A haggard, bruised big Homunculus stumbles aimlessly through a suburban area talking to the camera as he does so. His facial hair and what's left of his head hair are starting to grow a little wildly. He wears only a loin cloth.
Big Homunculus
I know I'm not a winner, but I'm not a loser. I just came second. There were, uh, a hundred wrestlers on that night and I came second, that's all. There's only one loser and that's Braderick Bross. Closing out the show getting beaten down by a part time mother who barely even towers over a dwarf like me? Utterly embarrassing, I would retire if I were in such a scenario. Fighting can calm the horror in my brain until it doesn't. Until it doesn't. What a man needs is his tribe.
Big H sees a woman and two children walking along innocently and intensely sprints towards them.
Big Homunculus
Are you a mother? Do you have a family?
The woman speaks with an Irish accent.
Random woman:
Er, yes I suppose.
Big Homunculus
I need a mother, please let me join your clan. I don't take up much room, I'll fit in your handbag.
Big Homunculus attempts to jump into her handbag however face plants on the floor before hopping back to his feet.
Random woman:
Oh dear. I already have children, as you can see. Two is plenty, haha!
Big Homunculus grins, picks up her children and throws them into the sky.
Big Homunculus:
Problem solved, now please roast me a boar I am famished.
She shrieks and tries to catch her children as they eventually fall from the sky.
Big Homunculus
You are hysterical and do not have what it takes to be a mother.
Big H gets back to walking and talking to the camera.
Big Homunculus
What was I saying? Ah yes there is only one true loser and his name is Groderick Loss for certain! I merely came second. I know now that I am not a winner but having seen that man crumble at the hands of the diminutive Sasha Foote I know what a true loser looks like, and he is far too gargantuan to ever be me. Seeing someone struggle with a smaller opponent gives me great joy, for I know I am their kryptonite.
As if to illustrate how tiny he is, Big Homunculus plucks an apple from a tree without even reaching and swallows it whole without chewing.
Big Homunculus
I hate when the stem scratches my organs. Once I have removed Droterick Loss from the redemption royale, I will soon follow, for I am not a winner. How can I be a winner I do not have a heart in my body, or more accurately, in my corner. Bret Hart has made his allegiances clear. He lets personal relationships and recency bias factor into his mindset and doesn't think of all the work I have done for him over the long history of this brand new organisation. In leaving me out of his 14-person top ten wrestlers of the week he showed me great disrespect.
Big Homunculus approaches a house and climbs through the window, the camera follows.
Big Homunculus
On the other hand if Bret Hart does not see me as a winner, why should I disrespect the views of a legend? Once I have effortlessly tossed Trotadick Loss from the royale with my patented Pygmy's Push, I shall jump the top rope, march to Hart's location and watch with him, to hopefully see what he sees and find out what a winner really looks like. While the boss disrespects me, I will not risk my health attempting to quarrel with wrestlers who could potentially harm me. Bret Hart will rue the day he crossed this Pygmy.
Homunculus sees a picture of a middle aged woman with a young lad.
Big Homunculus
I am in the correct house. Wait here while i delve into the basement.
Big H runs downstairs while the camera pans along several pictures. In each picture the woman gets older along with the young lad, until the young lad is an adult recognisable as Roderick Kross. Homunculus sprints out of the basement and rushes towards the nearest window.
Big Homunculus
Quick, make haste!
Big Homunculus launches himself through a window, followed by the camera man and sprints for his mobility scooter getaway vehicle. The camera man hops on the back of it but spins around to see the house they were just in completely explode.
Big Homunculus
I don't know why that explosion happened. I might just blame a binman.
As that piece hits a minute five seconds in, the PrimeTime logo animates to life in the forefront of all the ensuing action before flashing into the Bell Centre’s sold out capacity crowd. In an instant pyrotechnics are flaring off around the arena with different styled fireworks on display than from a week before, the cameras cutting to keep up. After the display, the cameras take to ringside where the commentary booth is almost as we left it aside from the difference in clothing, occupied by Candian professional wrestling legends Lance Storm and Christian Cage. Their nameplates flash across the screen and Christian Cage takes to bringing the show in for a second week in the row, just before Lance Storm can manage his first words.
Christian Cage: MY PEEPS have returned for another edition of Tuesday Night PrimeTime, hosted by yours truly - Captain Charisma, Canadian Rage, the Suicide Blonde, the PEEP-le’s Champion...
Christian’s arms extend similarly to the start of last week, covering Lance’s face.
Christian Cage: CHRISTIAN! CAGE!
Lance Storm’s face is visible again as the arms fall back to his side.
Lance Storm: We started the show with footage that has become important here in the Alberta Wrestling Federation in the last six days. While nothing through the recorded video shows evidence of any crime, as you may know, many of the promos and vignettes you watch weekly here on PrimeTime are pre-taped segment distributed amongst competitors in the build to the show, and when this footage was shown to Roderick Kross - lets just say thing did not go so well.
Christian Cage: Why not be honest, Storm? I put my ass on the line for this kid last week vouching for him, only for him to not only lose but walk away and quit from a situation like this?! I’ll tell you, it’s definitely not 2001 anymore.
Lance Storm: Bret Hart and the Commissioner Booker T have taken great measures to ensure the safety of us all here at the Bell Centre in Montreal, with security guards surrounding Homunculus at all times backstage and the promise of the same guards staying behind the curtain during his match. That also means, obviously, Roderick Kross will not be competing in tonight’s battle royale.
Christian Cage: I guess Kross is gonna feel real stupid knowing this news that just came around this morning: the winner of that battle royale not only qualifies for the Provincial Championship tournament, but they skip the first round with a bye!
Lance Storm: The Redemption Royale has just gotten that much more important for these men. But with that all out of the way, we are just about ready to kick the night off. But first, the Best Friends got themselves into quite the situation on the Canadian freeways this past week.
The show’s first crossfade, into a scene from the middle of last week.
Trans-Canada Highway
Somewhere in southern Saskatchewan, Canada
10 AM
A very used, crusty, white 1995 Pontiac Sunfire GT flys down the highway. In the driver’s seat sits Trent Beretta wearing a red tank top with a white cyclone pattern and black short shorts like a marathon runner. The passenger seat sits Chuck Taylor, wearing a black tank top with a white seismic wave tremur pattern across the belly, and red short shorts. Smashed into the back, because Trent and Chuck sit with their seats pushed all the way back, sits Orange Cassidy in his usual denim on denim garb. By his feet sits a white megaphone with red hearts poorly sharpied on.
Trent
Alright boys, we’re… (checks his old school fold out map) ….not even halfway there. Why did Bruce make his second show the opposite side of Canada? If I knew we would have to drive across the country in a week I would have gotten something less cramped.
Trent looks through the mirror and locks sunglass eyes with Orange Cassidy.
Trent
Hey! What did I say about not letting the bit die?
Trent reaches on the floor behind him while driving fumbling around. He grabs the megaphone and forces it into OC’s lap.
Trent
Take it! It won’t make sense unless we’re all participating.
Trent drops the megaphone on OC’s lap and faces back forward as the Trans Canada highway turns into Victoria Avenue.
Chuck
Man, I can’t believe they can name a town this.
Trent
What?
Chuck
(Pointing to a sign) Vagina!
Trent
It says Regina. We’re in Regina Saska..saskatch..sassaska.. seskatchu...We’re in Regina Canada.
Chuck’s stomach groans loudly.
Chuck
Well does Ra-ji-nuh have any food?
The car drives by a Tim Horton’s.
Trent
I mean there has to be something in this city.
The car drives by another Tim Horton’s.
Trent
We’ll get food soon, but I need to fill this tank up.
The car drives by another Tim Horton's then peels off Victoria Avenue and into a Co-Op Gas Station. Trent gets out of his seat, as OC climbs over to the front but has the door slammed on his face. He turns and crawls across the seat to exit the passenger side, but Chuck shuts the door on him as well. OC climbs back to his original seat.
Chuck
I still need some food Trent.
Trent
(Finishing filling the tank) Well let’s see if they have any inside.
Trent and Chuck make their way inside the station. Inside the car OC is sitting in the backseat. He wiggles around as the middle seat loosens revealing it folds out accessing the trunk. He squeezes through and pops the trunk open, finally freeing himself from the tiny car. Inside the gas station Chuck is dropping bags of candy and chips on the clerks counter.
Chuck
I mean, this is fine, but I need some real food. We should check out one of those Tom Horton’s everybody talks about, I haven’t seen any yet but I’m sure Vagina has one.
Trent
Tim Horton’s is fine, but I mean, it’s no Dunkin though.
Everybody in the shop freezes dropping what they’re doing, including the cashier.
Store Clerk
Excuse me?
Trent
What? Just saying Dunkin Donuts is better. I mean, America runs on Dunkin.
Random Customer
(Talking really fast) Well Canada runs on Timmies, so why doont you fuck off with your fat ass krispy kreme knockoff donut bullshit there bud and get yourself some real coffee eh?
Trent
(Puzzled) What?
Another Customer
(Talking really fast) Yeah bud it’s aboot time you forgot your store bought starbucks reject muffins and go get yourself a bagel BLT and a side of timbits and tell me who the real king of breakfast is there bud?
Trent
(Looking at Chuck confused) I have, no idea what you’re saying right now.
Store Clerk
Fuck Dunkin!
Trent
Well fuck you! Do you realize who you’re talking to? I am the mayor of Dunkin! I would die for Dunkin Donuts.
Customer
Well why don’t you take these nuts-
Everybody is shouting over each other as the customers slowly approach Trent and Chuck.
Chuck
Stop! Okay. We’ll go get Tommies
Customer far away shouting
It’s timmies you prick!
Chuck
We’ll go get, Timmies. How do we get there?
Store Clerk
Oh that’s easy there bud just rip down the grid right there aye, but don’t forget to make sure you have your bunny hug on because it’s at least minus 20 out there. But if you really want to have a jig you can rip into town and pick up a two-six to pair with your timbits eh?
Trent
What?
Store Clerk
Just google it asshole.
Trent and Chuck leave the store empty handed, and get back into the car. They drive away and head into town, with an empty backseat.
About 20 minutes later...
The same 1995 White Sunfire is tearing eastward on the Trans-Canada Highway.
Chuck
I don't know why they called this place Balgonie, I don't see any sandwich meat here.
Trent
What?
Chuck
What?
The awkward exchange is interrupted by Chuck Taylor rummaging around his feet, in a plastic bag filled with all sorts of snacks and junk food, eventually pulling out a family sized bag of Ruffles All Dressed, something the pair hasn't seen before coming to Canada. Chuck opens the bag, and starts eating.
Trent
Where did you get those? I thought we left that Gas Station with nothing?
Chuck
I snuck a bag under my shirt before walking out, and I'm glad I did, these are pretty good, the Canadians make some pretty good snacks.
Trent
Let me try some of those.
Chuck takes out a singular chip, and feeds it to Trent, doing so with such precision, making one think that this is a normal occurrence on their road trips. Chuck lets out a small sigh.
Chuck
This drive has sucked ever since we crossed the border into Saskwatchtown. I mean, have we gone over a single hill or anything? This has to be the flattest 5 hours I have ever experienced. What do you think Orange?
No answer comes from the backseat, not even a single, "I dunno" or "Meh".
Chuck
Orange? I said what do you think?
After no answer follows his question again, Chuck looks back to see an empty seat.
Chuck
Orange?
Chuck's eyes look at the entire backseat, with Orange Cassidy no where to be found. He starts looking behind the Driver and Passenger seats, even going as far as trying to look under the seats, but finds nothing but empty soda cans and fast food paper bags. Chuck looks at Trent, then doing a double, triple, and quadruple take between the backseat and Trent.
Chuck
Uh, Trent, Orange isn't back there.
Trent
What do you mean, he's right-
Trent looks into his rear view mirror, but stops mid sentence after seeing nothing.
Trent
Where is he?
Chuck
If I knew he wouldn't be missing right now! Turn around, we have to go back! He must've gotten out at the Gas Station we were at! I said TURN AROUND!
Chuck reaches over Trent and jerks the wheel to the left, forcing the car to spins out and tail whip multiple times. The All Dressed Chips go flying around the car. Trent puts the car in park after they stop.
Trent
What are you doing? You almost killed us!
Chuck tries to hide a few tears that stream down his face. His voice starts getting shakier and shakier.
Chuck
We have to hurry up! He's one half of the Best Friends! What if something happened to him? What if some crazy Sackachewon hillbilly's got him? I want to find him fast, I miss him already!
Trent
It's OK Dustin we'll go find him OK? I'm sure he's doing fine, cheer up pal.
Trent grabs the back of Chucks neck, and brings his head down so he can kiss the top of his head. Trent puts the car back in drive and starts to backtrack down the highway. After 5 minutes or so, they start pulling back into the perimeter of Regina. As they are driving through, Chuck sees the post office in the middle of town.
Chuck
Let's go in there and see if they've seen him, maybe he tried to follow us.
Trent pulls the car into the parking lot, and Chuck hurriedly runs in, followed by Trent. Chuck bursts through the door and sees an elderly man working at the front desk.
Chuck
HaveyouseenmyfriendOrangeCassidyhesabout5foot10inchesandheswearingadenimjacketandsunglasseswelosthiminreginaatagasstationandwereallyneedtofindhimand-
Chuck is talking so fast that his entire monologue seems to be one very large word, with tears now streaming down his face. The man just looks confused at the pair.
Elderly Man
I'm sorry son I don't-
Trent cuts the man off.
Trent
What my best friend is trying to ask, is have you seen a lazy looking man wearing sun glasses and a denim jacket come through here? Is there any reports of anyone seeing someone like that?
The man just shakes his head.
Elderly Man
No Sir, no reports on anything. Although, maybe your friends still in the car have a lead, looks like they are in a hurry too.
Trent and Chuck both look back in the parking lot, only to see the White car kicking up gravel as it leaves the parking lot, and out of sight. Kolotov is at the wheel, wide eyes pressed on the road ahead, as him and his brother Alaric, sat in the passenger seat, laugh and guffaw in their forced Transylvanian accents.
Alaric
Those fangless fools! On their little exploration through the land of Tim Horton's, entirely oblivious to the impending doom brought by the Vampire Twins lurking in the shadows!
Kolotov
Coconuts! Utter coconuts!
Alaric
Now we have their car my brother, they will struggle to find alternate transport to get to the next show on time! It will tire them! Demoralise them! By the time our match comes around, they will be worn-out putty in our hands!
Kolotov
It is great idea brother Alaric! Truly devilish and fangtastic! This is what will make us top tag team in AWF in no time at all!
Alaric
Absolutely little brother Kolotov! It is a great idea! We are smartest in whole company! Me especially!
Alaric gives Kolotov an almighty slap on the pec in jest, which Kolotov returns a bit harder. Alaric grimaces slightly, forcing the smile to remain on his face, as he returns another slap to his younger brother, this time with much more force. Kolotov grunts, and returns another, harder slap. The smile is wiped from Alaric's face, as cracks a full on chop against Kolotov's chest, who angrily returns one of his own, until the pair are slapping at each other at the front of the car.
The car spins off into the wrong lane, almost coming head to head with a lorry. The twins scream, before Kolotov twists the wheel, sending them careening out of the path of the truck, straight off the road, before the car crashes through some brush and lands into the car park of a Tim Horton's.
It slowly rolls to a stop, perfectly in a parking space. The two brothers sit in silence for a few seconds, pale faces even paler, before looking up at the Tim Horton's ahead of them. Kolotov clears his throat.
Kolotov
Shall we go Tim Horton's.
Alaric
Yes I will get banana smoothie.
The pair begin to get out of the car, adrenaline still running through the pair of them, both clearly trying to play it off.
Kolotov
I will get strawberry smoothie.
The pair shut the car door, in their stupor, not realising they have left the car keys on the dash.
Alaric
Strawberry? Some vampire you are! Everyone knows Vampires eat banana!
Kolotov
Strawberry is colour of blood! Like Vampires like!
Alaric
It is also little baby fruit! Babies eat strawberries!
Kolotov
I am not baby Alaric!
The pair move across the car park towards the Tim Horton's.
Alaric
Little baby Kolotov! Goo goo! Waa waa!
Kolotov
Stop it brother please!
Alaric
Do you need dummy! Suck on little dummy for little baby Kolotov and his little baby strawberries! Fat baby too!
Kolotov whimpers.
Kolotov
...I will get banana smoothie.
Alaric
Now you are just copying me.
Alaric gets to the door of the Tim Horton's, and opens it wide to step through, not even holding it in place for his brother to follow him. Heads turn to look at the strange looking duo as they move into the Tim Horton's, but they pay no mind to that. The pair look up at the menu ahead of them, and Alaric is shocked. The only smoothie he sees is the 'Strawberry Banana Fruit Smoothie'
Alaric
Yuck! Look at that! What is that!? Blasphemy!
Kolotov
What?
Alaric
Look what you have done little brother Kolotov! No banana without also baby strawberry! We are forced to be babies!
Kolotov
But we both win brother!
Alaric
A clear look into your mind that you see this as some form of victory! No winners here today! I will get a Frozen Lemonade instead! You pay brother! I am going for piss!
Kolotov
But I paid last time-
Alaric
And you will pay again and again until I forgive you for your Drayton Manor misshap!
Alaric storms off to the toilets, as Kolotov stands in line, sighing. He hated when his older brother was mad at him like this, he kept trying to impress him but just kept screwing up… he couldn't afford to screw up again. His brother would have his hide.
But he had. Kolotov felt around in his pockets, and noticed he didn't have the car keys. His eyes went wide with shock and horror.
WHERE ARE THE CAR KEYS!?!?
He spins around on the spot, frightening the people around him, as he peers through the window behind him, his eyes locking on the parked car they hijacked in the distance.
About 30 minutes earlier
Orange Cassidy walks out from behind a Co-Op gas station bathroom door. A bunch of canucks are going about their business, all of them grumbling about fast food coffee. He walks around the store looking for the Best Friends. Trent wasn’t perusing the beef jerky and Dustin wasn’t carrying as many donuts as he could from the baked goods cabinet, so they definitely weren’t in the store still. OC exited the store to see the rustbucket that Trent had rented from that shack on the side of the road was nowhere to be seen.
Orange Cassidy sighs while pulling out his phone, typing Bell Centre into google maps. One thousand eight-hundred and sixty-four miles away it reads. Cassidy sighs again, puts a pair of headphones in and starts walking.
Orange Cassidy's Internal Monologue
There is no way they are gonna notice I’m gone anytime soon. Might as well get some exercise.
The roads of Canada are much more rural than those of the United states or at least the roads of Wherever. Cars only pass by every once and a while so OC is walking like how Bruce Banner would at the end of an Incredible Hulk episode. Remember like two weeks ago when Lou Ferrigno just showed up on AEW during the Bubbly Bunch segment, that was kinda random. Who do you think was the connection to get him to do it? Jericho probably.
Anyway, for the next twenty-ish minutes Orange Cassidy walked down those Canadian roads. He thought that the whole country would smell like maple, but it mostly smells like a hockey locker room. That was a bit mean, but he thought it was a good joke. Eventually he stops in the middle of a small town.
Orange Cassidy's Internal Monologue
At this point they are never gonna find me without any help.
Orange opens his phone to the group chat that the three best friends share. He pings his location on their location sharing in the hopes the other two will notice. He looks for their location on the map.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Oh that’s not too bad, they’re only like a town over.
OC notices a Tim Hortons across the street.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Might as well grab a snack while I’m waiting.
He crosses the unbusy street, takes out his headphones and pulls the door to the Tim Hortons open. The smell of coffee and baked goods immediately hits him.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
While I’m in a coffee shop I might as well give it another try.
He approaches the counter and there is a young canadian woman behind the counter. Like one of those girls who works at a coffee shop that is way too perky and excited to be there. How do coffee shops always seem to attract these kinds of people.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
How can I help you?
Orange Cassidy
Coffee. Small. Black. Please.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Alright sir that will be $1.59.
Orange puts his hand in his pocket, pulls out exact change and hands it to her. She puts it in her register and a male employee comes from the side and hands him the coffee.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Thank you and enjoy!
OC walks towards the other end of the store and sits at an empty two person table. He leans back in the seat, slowly brings the cup to his lips and takes a sip. As soon as the liquid hits his lips his whole body feels like it's being burned. Immediately an image comes to his mind, a child with blonde hair, no more than five or 6 years old, covered in steaming brown liquid and screaming in pain.
Rough Male Voice
GOD DAMMIT! I TOLD YOU TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN! IF YOU HAD STOPPED RUNNING I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO DO THIS!
Of course that is all in his head, so no one else sees or hears that. They just see Orange sitting still with a coffee cup very close to his face, as if he was just enjoying his drink or pondering a thought. He quickly snaps out of it placing the drink at the other end of the table. He doesn’t show much emotion, but if you knew Orange Cassidy you could see he was a bit shaken up.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
I guess today isn’t the day.
He checks his phone to see the location of his friends and sees Chuck’s location very quickly moving in his direction. He lifts his head up from the phone and notices a sign on the window, “Two mediums coffees and forty timbits special $7.99”. He gets up, picking up the coffee cup and throwing it in the trash on his way back to the counter.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Can I help you?
Orange turns around and points to the window.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Oh you want the Timbits deal, any cream or sugar for the coffee?
Orange Cassidy
Lots.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Alright, anything else?
A line begins to form behind Orange. He notices something in the cold case behind the counter.
Orange Cassidy
Tropicana. Please.
The employee turns around, grabs the orange juice from the case and puts it on the counter. She types it into the register.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Ok, so that will be $10 even.
Orange places his hand into his pocket, pulls out $15 and hands it to her. He’s a big tipper cause he made that Tony Khan money.
Orange Cassidy
Keep the change.
Tim Hortons Female Employee
Thank you so much! Hold on.
She prints out the receipt and begins to write on it
Tim Hortons Female Employee
I’ve circled a survey on the bottom, fill it out and you’ll get a free coffee on your next visit. Your order will be ready at the other end of the counter. Thanks again!
Orange gives a weak nod, picks up his receipt and orange juice then moves to the end of the counter. He opens the orange juice and takes a big swig. A small smirk falls on his face.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Much better.
He slides the oj into his pocket and looks at the receipt to see what the employee was talking about with a survey and notices she wrote her number on the back instead . While waiting for his order OC notices the Dracislav Twins enter the store.
Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Huh, that’s weird. Too bad Dustin and Trent aren’t here to fuck with them.
Orange checks his phone and sees that it says Chuck is in the parking lot.
Tim Hortons Male Employee
Here you are sir.
Orange looks up from his phone, seeing the employee holding his order. He slides his phone in his pocket and takes the coffee tray and timbits from the employee. He begins to make his way out of the store, walking right past the bickering twins out the door. He gets to the car and sees that it is empty. He looks around for his friends, but they are not in the area. He opens the passenger door and puts the timbits there before closing the door. He then opens the driver door, sitting while putting the coffee in the drink holders. Orange checks his phone and sees that while Chuck is supposed to be in the parking lot, Trent is still in the next town over. He sees Chuck’s phone on the floor of the passenger seat. Putting two and two together, he decides to text the Tim Hortons Girl. The message he sends reads “Please fuck with the vampires.”
Grabbing the keys from the dash, he turns on the ignition and puts the gas pedal to the floorboard. He goes screeching out of the parking lot and in the direction of his friend. After about fifteen minutes of driving he sees his friends sitting outside of a post office. He hits the brake, turns the wheel hard and does a fast and furious style drift to end up right in front of Trent and Chuck.
Chuck
Well fuck me silly and call me Sally, look who came to save us.
Chuck and Trent walk up to the car as OC slowly hand cranks down the window.
Trent
Thanks for the rescue bud.
Chuck runs around the passenger side and gets in shouting “Coffee” excitedly. Trent just leans towards the driver’s seat and looks blankly at OC still giving a limp thumbs up from the previous thanks. After a few moments the message gets across and OC wiggles into the back seat, allowing Trent to get in.
Trent
(Pulling the car away) To Winnipeg we go!
Chuck
It’s supposed to be Montreal dude.
Trent
But that’s so far!
As they take off down the road, Chuck and Trent simultaneously push their seats as far back as they can into OC’s legs.
Trent:
(looking at OC through the mirror) So, what did you do while we were separated?
Orange Cassidy takes a breath in to talk.
Chuck
Story time later, music time now!
Chuck turns up the radio all the way blasting In The Summertime by Jerry Mongo. Trent and Chuck cheers with their coffee, OC eats some Timbits and they drive into the distance.
We return to the arena to a rumble of cheers for the Best Friends’ first appearance live on an Alberta Wrestling Federation broadcast. Trent rushes out of the curtain first but Chuck Taylor is close behind. They each take their own side of the stage to pump up before switching sides, ultimately meeting at the middle of the stage to proudly grab each other’s hands and holding all four high.
Mark Beverly: The following tag team bout, set for one fall, is the first in AWF history! Introducing first, from Racoon City, at a combined weight of four hundred six pounds - Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta: THE BEST! FFFFFRIENDS!
Fans’ hands are out and ready to be high-fived, the Best Friends ready to give out as many as possible as they proceed down the aisle.
Lance Storm: This first tag team match is next.
Alaric & Kolotov Dracislav are the first sight upon the return from the advertisement break, having reached the ringside area. Alaric speaks energetically while pointing at the ring and the opponents they would very soon face.
Mark Beverly: Their opponents, from Guildford, England, weighing a combined five hundred twenty one pounds - Alaric and Kolotov: THE DRACISLAV TWINS!
Some audience members get their attention as the Twins walk to their corner from the outside of the ring, and so the two show their false fangs and simultaneously hiss.
Lance Storm: I’m not quite sure if that actually intimidated anyone.
Christian Cage: Of course it did, Storm. Trust me, I know about their kind. I know well.
The Best Friends are mid-conversation at their corner as senior referee Don Quintillis signals for the bell. The Dracislav Twins have meanwhile effectively taken the right-side turnbuckle closest to the hard camera as their territory, Alaric whispering plans to Kolotov as he forces his younger brother to start off the bout.
Ding!
Trent Beretta: No, Dustin, you should have the honor of starting our first ever match!
Trent attempts to leave the ring before Chuck grabs his shoulder and gently pulls him back in.
Chuck Taylor: I could never take away something you so truly deserve!
Alaric Dracislav: Charge them, you overweight oaf!
With that, the one-pound heavier Kolotov listens to his twin and charges the bickering men with a corner splash.
Lance Storm: The Best Friends have dodged right out the way - it almost feels like a set up.
Kolotov’s head reverberates wickedly off the top turnbuckle pad as the Best Friends set up perfectly for his groggy turn around - double team flapjack executed to perfection!
Alaric Dracislav: Useless as always!
Alaric attempts to leap athletically over the top rope, only for his left foot to get caught and his face to be the first thing to break his fall. He attempts to pull himself up, using the support of his tag turnbuckle. As he begins to face forward, Chuck Taylor has whipped Trent Beretta toward him - a successful corner splash! Trent uses the back of Alaric’s head to send him toward Chuck Taylor: overhead belly-to-belly! Taylor kips up to a quick roar from the Bell Centre while the impact sends Alaric rolling out of the ring toward the ramp, where his brother has also found himself. The camera cuts the brothers attempting to help each other up.
Kolotov Dracislav: No, brother! We must rise!
Alaric Dracislav: (struggling to breathe) Shut… up… you… imb--
Two double axe-handles to the back - one from Trent to Alaric and the other received by Kolotov from Chuck. Trent attempts to pull Alaric in by his head to only be met with two stiff punches to the gut. At the same time, Kolotov has fought back quickly and suddenly against Chuck Taylor, with Taylor’s head soon bouncing off the steel steps. Alaric and Trent are in a fist fight as Kolotov continues his attack, but a well-timed gutkick keels the vampire over. A European uppercut puts Alaric on his back.
Don Quintillis: 3!
Lance Storm: Trent drops Alaric and he’s off to help Chuck Taylor as the referee has reached a count of three before calling the match. These men will have to make their way back into the squared circle sooner than later.
One more double axe-handle stuns Kolotov yet again, before Trent attempts to drive his head overtop the ringside barrier. Kolotov’s boot on the same barricade just in time halts the momentum and one quick elbow’s got Trent reeling backwards. Taylor attempts to get a swing off, but Kolotov manages to block it and come back with a swing of his one. He claps a quick modified uppercut under Chuck’s chin before Trent dropkicks him in the middle of his back, right into Taylor’s dropkick to the face.
Lance Storm: Now both twins are down again.
The Best Friends’ eyes are suddenly locked and slow smirks grow on both of their faces. The Dracislavs begin to stir as Trent rolls in first and Chuck’s in just after him on the opposite side of the ring. Once in, they suddenly sprint in unison for the ropes and they are off:
Christian Cage: A double suicide dive! In the opener?!
Trent lunges over the top rope, turning his body into a suicide senton as Chuck careens through the top and middle ropes. Beretta’s body falls hard on top of Kolotov’s and Taylor’s suicide dive effectively morphs into a devestating outside crossbody. The crowd is to their feet as the Best Friends drag their bodies up.
Christian Cage: Morons! They look just as hurt as the Twins!
Trent holds at his abdomen as the two risk-takers reenter the ring. When they enter, they notice each other - in corners diagonal from each other - and both seem to get a certain inclination. Staring across, their arms suddenly go wide and two begin speeding purposefully towards each other.
Christian Cage: Did they just hug in the middle of a wrestling ring?
The view is cut to the hard camera, quickly zooming out to show the hug and the crowd’s approving pop.
Don Quintillis: 6!
Alaric is to his feet on the outside first, wobbly legged but pulling his brother to his feet. The dialogue is intransliable in its frantic and angry nature, but he screams orders and commands at his brother until finally Kolotov is to his feet…
Don Quintillis: 9!
…. and into the ring as quickly as he can. Trent awaits his arrival and tries to get the immediate better with a slingblade - but Kolotov grabs him in the last swing and manages to turn into a swinging STO.
Christian Cage: Beauty! Just beauty with that execution!
The fast-paced start has gassed Kolotov, who has to take his time before quickly attempting to wrap Trent up with both legs hooked.
Don Quintills: 1!......
2!..........
KICKOUT
Kolotov pulls himself to his feet but is still visibly shaken from the early onslaught. A hair pull gets Trent on all fours, before the Dracislav kicks Beretta right in the gut. The wind knocked out assuredly with both of the last two maneuvers, Trent can only grab at his lower torso and strain for breath as Kolotov keeps kicking in the same spot. A change up - a pointed knee - forces Trent over and he begins trying to pull at the nearby bottom rope to catch a respite.
Lance Storm: Kolotov Dracislav has suddenly just completely changed the pace of this match in the last thirty seconds.
The boots begin to land in Trent’s back as it seems he can’t do much else but take the punishment. Another aggressive pull of the hair forces Beretta’s neck to bend awkwardly as Kolotov drags his opponent into the Dracislav corner. One more boot - this one landing with the sole - falls into Beretta’s gut. The same sole is driven into the throat and Kolotov grabs at the top rope to help with angling his foot to cause the most effective choke. The referee begins slapping at his arms, but Alaric walks to the center of the apron and begins teasing entering the ring, calling Quintillis’ attention.
Christian Cage: Look at this brilliant tag team psychology, Storm! He can laying in those closed palm strikes right to Beretta’s face as long as he wants to at this point - and the boot again, look at that switch-up!
Lance Storm: The referee remains preoccupied as Alaric distracts him. The ultimate disrespect now: he’s taken Trent’s headband off and is choking him with it.
Don Quintillis sees in the corner of his eye what is occurring and his attention diverts again. Finally, he begins to warn for the disqualification.
Don Quintillis: 1! 2! 3! 4! ---
Kolotov charges the referee, who flinches backwards. A stiff kick to the face is the last thing Kolotov does before the tag.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Quintillis slaps his hands so as to indicate a tag and Alaric is quickly into the ring. A knife-edge chop makes Trent recoil and grab at his eyes, exposing the wounded torso for a shoulder block into the corner. A second one is held, so as to trap as Kolotov begins swinging fists at Trent’s face.
Don Quintillis: 1! 2! 3! 4! --
Alaric lets out from the hold and plants a back elbow into Beretta’s chin.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Alaric forces a hand under Trent’s chin, perfect for the gutpunch from Kolotov. Alaric’s hand comes down flat for a chop that’s heard throughout the arena before he exits. A forearm smash to the face begins to drop Beretta down in the corner and one quick right swing knocks him to his rear end.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Spittle flies from Beretta’s face with Alaric’s entering kick to the face. His hairgrab pulls at Beretta’s neck awkwardly in similar fashion to his twin earlier, and he uses a set of ropes as a slingshot into the set opposite. On the return, Beretta begins to twirl around Alaric’s body seemingly endlessly.
Christian Cage: It’s a tilt-a-whirl backbre-
Lance Storm: No, Cage, it’s a tilt-a-whirl DDT counter by Trent Beretta. He’s got body on body quickly after that.
Don Quintillis: 1!......
2!
KICKOUT
The kickout leaves Alaric on his stomach and Beretta on his back. An energy begins to overtake the arena as Chuck Taylor bounces eagerly on the apron, Kolotov pacing back-and-forth in his corner. Claps build as Beretta begins to stir. He pulls himself up but the curl up works against his worn-down lower torso, and he quickly finds himself belly-down. This does not stop his crawling toward his partner.
Lance Storm: If Beretta can make that tag, it could be exactly the change in momentum to spell the end.
Alaric finally moves for the first time since the reversal and goes for Trent’s foot with all he’s got. Beretta attempts to continue moving despite this, but as Alaric begins to stand with the foot in hand, Trent’s got to adjust and keep composure of his body.
Lance Storm: Enziguri. From seemingly nowhere, Trent succeeds and both men are back down.
Trent falls belly first, and is just close enough: one last hop.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Taylor lands the tag and Kolotov is in the ring immediately. Alaric rolls from the center of the ring as the two men charge. An attempted spear is leapfrogged and the momentum sends Kolotov shoulder first into the Best Friends’ turnbuckle, falling to the mat outside afterwards. But as Taylor drops, Alaric has snuck up with a schoolboy.
Lance Storm: He’s got his tights.
Don Quintillis: 1!......
2!.......
3!--KICKOUT
Taylor uses his legs in the kickout to push Alaric, sending him into the corner. Chuck is to his feet quick as Alaric charges - Taylor the quicker thinker of the two, puts a big boot into the face. Alaric’s body bounces up as it crashes down, helping him get up faster albeit with a glazed look. The vampire’s arms are quickly grabbed and crossed from behind: straightjacket double-knee backbreaker! The outside leg is hooked.
Don Quintillis: 1!......
2!........
KICKOUT
Christian Cage: Give the man credit where it’s due, Lance, because you wouldn’t have kicked out.
Beretta has pulled himself to his feet and is ready.
Don Quintillis: TAG!
Taylor pulls Alaric to his feet as Beretta begins scaling the top rope. The unexpected gain in height seems to wake Alaric, as Chuck puts him in electric chair position. The crowd collectively stands as Beretta stands, their claps and chants rising in volume. A crescendo is reached when Trent Beretta takes the leap: the Friend Device! It connects and the youngest members of the crowd begin to jump up and down with excitement as Trent hooks both legs.
Don Quintillis: 1!..........
2!
3!
DING DING DING!
Chuck Taylor runs around the ring excitedly as their music begins again. Once he makes a third rotation, he helps Trent to his feet, hugging his partner as he does so.
Mark Beverly: The winners of this match: Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta: The Best! Fffffriends!
The referee attempts to get in between them to raise both their hands, but they simultaneously shoo Quintillis away before grabbing each others’ hands and raising their arms on their own accord.
Best Friends d. Dracislav Twins in 7:02
A cut to a blurry screen. There is a deafening ringing noise.
FADE IN
We see an amazingly lit, huge elaborate stage, the sort of thing reserved for only the biggest and best stadium bands. A spotlight comes on and under it, is a battered and bruised (exactly how he looked after the Raging Dead match) Rockstar Spud. Spud looks to his left, it's his and bass player ZIGGY, tall, skinny and topless. Ziggy gives Spud a nod. Spud looks to his right and on guitar FRINGE, a well built young man whose fringe goes down to the middle of his nose. Fringe gives him a hang loose sign. Spud turns around with a giddy look on his battered face, behind the drums sits PANDA, Think Samoa Joe but cuddly. Panda gestures for Spud to turn around.
Spud looks forward at the sea of people.
The sound of the ringing is broken by each member of Local Leather teasing the audience with a taster of what their instruments can do:
Ziggy plays the opening to Psycho Killer but stops midway through. Fringe plays the Paradise City opening but again stops. Panda just bangs his drums really really hard. The crowd are entranced, clapping and cheering. Rockstar Spud is absolutely beaming with joy, he grabs the mic and adjusts it so that it's at his height.
Spud
(softly down the mic) Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
The crowd go completely silent.
Spud
Wohhh ohhh ohhh oh!
Crowd
Wohhh ohhh ohhh oh!
Spuds giddily glances at Fringe and Ziggy.
Spud
Ohhh Ohhh!
Crowd
(Panda stomps his bass drum in time) Ohh ohhh!
Spud
Deeda deeda!
Crowd
(Panda taps his cymbals in time) Deeda deeda.
Spud
Okay guys, that was beautiful, now I want you to do sing back what I sing to you, can you do that?
The Crowd cheers.
The rest of the band begin to play their instruments in time with Spud and the crowds singing.
Spud
Next week there'll be a battle royal!
Crowd
Next week there'll be a battle royal!
Spud
Usually the small mans foil!
Crowd
Usually the small mans foil!
Spud
But I am an anomaly!
Crowd
He is an anomaly!
Spud
So I dare them giants to fuck with me!
Crowd
So I dare them giants to fuck with me!
Spud raises both hands victoriously. Spud has a huge smile on his face, and hands comes from behind him and slaps him round the back of the head.
Ziggy
The fuck are you doing.
Spud looks out and this is what he sees:
INT. WEST MANITOBA RETIREMENT VILLAGE - DAY
Ziggy
Half this lot are deaf, that cheerleading bollocks can do one. Let's just play the songs and fuck off yeah.
Spud, no longer looking battered, save for the slightest black eye, gives a downtrodden nod. DELIA, 92, the tiniest little old lady you've ever seen, wakes up in her wheelchair.
Delia
(shakes her head) Get on with it then! We've got film night after this.
And Local Leather play the worst possible cover of:
The room is stunned silent, some of the pensioners begin to well up.
BEAT
DELIA, stands up from her wheelchair.
Delia
(Fist pumps) FUCKING YEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!
2 Care workers look absolutely furious and whisper at the back of the room. The other pensioners just stare blankly or sob. FRANK, 88, a man who is more beard than human at this point, stands and slowly moves forward in his zimmer frame. He looks Spud up and down.
Frank
Didn't I kill you in the war?
The band stare blankly, 1 care worker takes Frank by the hand.
Care Worker
Yes Frank, you killed everyone in the war.
Frank gives a massive toothless grin and struggles back to his seat. The care worker turns her attention to the band.
Care Worker
I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. NOW.
INT. LOCAL LEATHER TOUR BUS - DAY
A cramped tour bus/ back of a transit van full of equipment with 4 sleeping backs haphazardly scattered in between bits of kit, Spud and Fringe are situated between equipment. In the front Panda is in the Drivers seat, Ziggy beside him both comfortably smiling.
Panda
Definitely one of our more positive crowds.
Ziggy
Yeah, I sold little Delia a shirt on the way out.
Panda
REESULT!
Fringe
And I nicked some pills and shit on the way out!
Panda & Ziggy
Hurrayyy!!
Spuds ignoring all this and is rewatching highlights from his match with Raging Dead. Fringe navigates a guitar case to peak over Spuds shoulder.
Fringe
That again, fucking hell pal, you know there's porn and stuff on the internet, yeah.
Spud
(still staring at phone) But mate, I did it.
Fringe
What? Lost?
Spud
Look. Do you see that, I was done, no way I'm beating that count out he could have so easily left me, got the win, no fuss.
Fringe
Sooo? How come he's throwing you back in.
Spud
Respect mate.
The video shows Spuds late match flurry and eventual defeat.
Spud
(With a tear in his eye) And I was so close... But I got what I set out for.
The video fades out on Raging Dead giving Spud the nod.
Fringe quietly downs some of the pills he stole from the retirement home and lies back on top of the guitar case and begins to trip out.
Fringe
Do one of them cool passionate speeches, dude I'm so in for this shit right now.
Spud
So all roads lead to the belt, his is just shorter than mine right now and I hope, I pray, it's him and I think it will be. As we left the ring we both knew our business wasn't finished yet, not for a long shot but that's down the road. Everyone on this roster is capable of great things some are flashy, some are intricate and then there's the dudes I'm against this week.
Fringe
(Slowly moving his hands in front of his face) Tell me about them dude, wow.
Spud
Well, eld Spuddy boy is living among giants man, we've got the disturbed one, the evil one and the b b bla... bin man one. Me and them, we're the island of lost toys, we're the losers, apparently, I don't see any losers, shit. We have the best darn Bin Man on Boynton or any beach that I know of, we have the worlds tallest dwarf, quite an achievement and the lord and master of all that is pure and deranged, shit these men are titans... in a sense. Then there's little old me
(clears throat and in his best Michael Buffer voice) ’5'4" of Sweat and Sex Appeal, The Underdog from The Underwear Drawer, The Lovechild of Sid Vicious and Peter Dinklage, Tour Bus Terror, Pint Sized Peria, THE FRONT MAN! ROCKSTAR SPUD!’
They say battle royals are a big mans game, Andre, Studd, Hogan, the facts check out, it makes sense. Little dude like me they'll just toss me out and "let the men talk" hahahahaha. Think again. When they look at me they see a little dude, with an attitude, 5 feet and 4 and 141lbs on a good day, well fuck that. What they don't get, what they fail to recognise is when I'm in that ring and I breathe in and I feel that crowd, I'm the biggest man in the room, I'm a fucking giant, I'm Apollo, I'm a behemoth. They better have brought forklift trucks, catapults, canons or some kind of fucking divine intervention to beat me.
"Oh but Spud how will you eliminate them" BY HOOK OR BY GOD DAMNED CROOK, I'M NOT IN THIS GAME TO LOSE SO I PLAN ON DOING NO MORE OF IT. Try to throw me out big men, I dare you, you're all huge, you're all tough and I respect the hell out of each of you but lay a hand on me and you'll lose it. I'm afraid the Bin Man will get taken out like the trash that he loves, Homunculus sorry mate you'll get sent packing like you sent [NAME REDACTED] packing and Barron you're gonna have to get your money back from that personal trainer because that idiot didn't make you man ROCKSTAR FUCKING SPUD DID!
SO LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS!
Fringe
Woohhhhhh.
Fringe falls from the top of the guitar case and lies on the floor of the van, head propped against the front passenger seat, jaw dropped. Ziggy pops head round.
Ziggy
What the fuck happened here?
Fringe points at Spud.
Ziggy
Stop blowing Fringes mind Spud. You know how he gets. (turns to Fringe) Pass us them tablets then.
Fringe passes Ziggy the pills.
EXT. LOCAL LEATHER TOUR BUS - DAY
We see the bus speed through a beautiful mountainside. Fade out to commercial.
The following exclusive preview of ‘Rage 25/8’ is brought to you by iHeartRadio.
Raging Dead
Hello and welcome to episode one of Rage 25/8, right here on iHeartRadio. Thanks to their growing network of podcasts for folks like me… bored out of my mind with no place to let all of these thoughts out… I have the freedom to come on here as often as I'd like… to talk about… whatever… I want to talk about. This is a podcast, right? Is that what the kids call it? Anyway… hi… I’m Raging Dead… world travelled pro wrestling superstar… now calling AWF home.
The premier episode of AWF PrimeTime was a booming success. Six combatants moved on to the next round of the AWF World’s Championship Tournament: Lieutenant Andorra, Priscilla Kelly, Sasha Foote, Athena, Max Ironside, Raging Dead. All six of us move on to episode two, which takes place at Bell Centre in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. Also… the AWF Provincial Championship Tournament begins… where I am obviously rooting for my niece, Christina King. More on that later.
It’s still crazy to think how things have turned out. I could not have imagined a year ago… or even six months ago… that I would be wrestling full time again, and at such a high level of competition. But… here I am… giving it one last go. Yes, one last go. For those of you tuning in for the first time… well… this is the first episode… but… damn. Where was that one going? Oh, right. As I enter my thirtieth year in this business… I have decided to officially hang up the boots later this year. When I returned in September of last year… I was simply testing the waters for one more run… and it has been a blast. I have won three four titles already… in four different promotions… and I’m looking to add AWF World’s Championship to that growing list.
This is not an easy business by any means. I would also say that I am not the toughest guy around, but I do know what it takes to get the most out of a career. In recent months… I have noticed that this new generation of superstars lacks a certain kind of… substance. They go out and do all kinds of cool moves, but can’t seem to make the moves matter in the grand scheme of things. Last week, for instance, Rockstar Spud came at me with everything he had and he just couldn’t get the job done. A year from now… will they remember how he lost… or remember how hard he fought? I hope it is the latter. He's a good kid… and he's got a bright future ahead of him… but he drew the short straw by having to face me in the first round of the tournament.
Next up is a three way dance with Athena and Max Ironside. This is not to be confused with a three way dance I had in 1999… with Athena and Maxine. That's a story I'll save for adult listeners on the premium podcast Rage After Dark. This upcoming match is one with unforeseen variables. Last week, it was just me and Spud. I had control of the outcome from the very beginning. A three way dance is far less predictable… but could be a lot of fun.
Last week… Athena and Max were victorious over two of the toughest opponents they could have faced in this tournament… Kendrick Kross and Barron Boneius, respectively. They all fought valiantly… but only two of them are destined to fight me next week. The other two will have to wait for another week. Athena and Max… I imagine it is overwhelming having to compete against me next week on PrimeTime. Week one… I won Match of the Week and I was number one in the rankings. Even in a triple threat… the odds are against both of them.
Max was ranked third. Athena was ranked fifth. Those are still really good spots to be in. They both earned their way into the next round of the tournament… and they collectively hit a wall. They'll both fight until there's nothing left… and that's where I do my best work. I've hit rock bottom more times than I can count… and I always find a way to come back stronger. That's who I am. Who are they? Athena is the Goddess of War… and Max is the Handicapped Hero. They've both fought so hard in their lives and their careers to be taken seriously… and now they have the unfortunate task of fighting… me.
Under normal circumstances… without any championship opportunities at stake… I would take the time to coach these future superstars and pass down whatever knowledge they are willing to absorb. But this… is a different situation entirely. This is the AWF World's Championship Tournament! This is life or death! Okay, maybe not THAT drastic… but the final year of my legacy depends on the impact I am able to make in such a short amount of time. I cannot allow anyone to stand in my way of being champion once again.
When Bret Hart signed me to AWF… he knew what he was getting. A bona fide legend. That's not incessant bragging by any means. It's a fact. For thirty… long… rigorous… years… I have traveled the globe… racking up nearly as many losses as I have wins. Just since September 2019… I am 23-14-4. Yes, I keep track in a notebook. My wife thinks it will help since my memory isn't that great. I can tell you that my fifth match since returning was my first loss… and it was against my niece, Christina King. I have had eight matches in California since January 7. Wow!
I digress. Bret knew that signing me would create a buzz and spark interest in AWF. And look! Sixteen people have signed since my signing was announced! The pilot for AWF PrimeTime was a success. It truly set the pace for how these shows are going to go. Next week will be much of the same… but with even MORE action packed action! Speaking of pilots… for my very first episode of Rage 25/8 right here on iHeartRadio… I have a special treat for you all! Well, maybe not ALL of you will find this interesting… but… you can’t please everybody all the time. Heh. I have a guest who has been waiting patiently on the line and… Brice… are you there?
Brice McQueen
I’m here, buddy!
Raging Dead
Welcome to Rage 25/8, Brice. It’s good to have you on.
Brice McQueen
It’s good to be anywhere but my basement right now. That place smells like piss!
Raging Dead
That’s… something…
Brice McQueen
The old lady just keeps bringing home more cats and they’re pissing up the place. I try to escape to my man cave and ya know what I found?
Raging Dead
More cats?
Brice McQueen
MORE CATS!
Raging Dead
That’s a shame. I know you’re more of a dog person.
Brice McQueen
That’s an understatement. I hate cats almost as much as I hate the Montreal Canadiens! They have no honour… pride… OR courage!
Raging Dead
How long have you been a Maple Leafs fan?
[Brice McQueen
All my life, pal. I was born in the parking lot on the final night of the 1949 Stanley Cup Finals. My parents didn’t want to miss the game, so they bought me a ticket at the gate.
Raging Dead
That’s one hell of an origin story! So, I wanted to have you on today to discuss the AWF PrimeTime. As a veteran in this sport of spanning half a century… what are your thoughts on the show?
Brice McQueen
Too many vignettes!
Raging Dead
Okay. How were the matches?
Brice McQueen
They were fine.
Raging Dead
Just fine?
Brice McQueen
Yeah. I was impressed by a few of those kids. Rockstar Spud put up one heck of a fight against you. That’s for sure. Athena and Max Ironside have bright futures ahead of ‘em, too.
Raging Dead
You’re aware they are my opponents next week on PrimeTime then.
Brice McQueen
I am now. I don’t keep up with the world wide webs. Is it some kind of handicap match?
Raging Dead
No. It’s a three way dance. The winner advances to the finals of the title tournament.
Brice McQueen
Well dang! You’re going to win that for sure!
Raging Dead
What makes you say that, other than your innate bias for me?
Brice McQueen
It’s not bias at all. I objectively believe you’re the best in the business today. I’ve thought highly of you even when you worked in a mask and hid your true identity. I always knew there was just… something… about you. You’ve got a classic style but you adapt to whatever is thrown at you, buddy.
Raging Dead
What are the odds I don’t win this match?
Brice McQueen
I’m not much for odds. I just have a gut feeling that you’re going to go all the way in this tournament. My gut is never wrong. Except for when I picked up that working girl down in Guadalajara back in ‘82 or ‘83. I forget which tour it was. She ended up being a he though. Still paid him a fair wage.
Raging Dead
Let’s skip right past that and pretend it never happened. Brice, you might just be the youngest 70 year old on the planet. What are the chances you’re able to step back into the ring?
Brice McQueen
I’ve been jumping on my trampoline for weeks, just waiting for the phone to ring. You never know when you’ll get the call at my age. Yeah, I’m in the best shape of my life. At least the best shape of the second half of my life. I had a lot of dangerous vices in the early 90s.
Raging Dead
If you got a call right now… from Bret Hart himself… would you pack your bag and head to PrimeTime?
Brice McQueen
I sure as heck would! I bet I could teach these young kids a thing or two about a thing or two! As I said, I’ve got my eyes on Spud… Athena… and Ironside. They’ve got a lot of upside and not a lot of cracks in their armor. That doesn’t mean they’re ready to be at the top of the pyramid. Spud already found out what happens when you go one on one with an international stud like yourself. Athena and Ironside are in for a lesson of a lifetime when they step in the squared circle with you.
Raging Dead
Why is it called a square circle?
Brice McQueen
Let me tell you about the time I---
Raging Dead
Brice? Are you there, Brice?
Brice McQueen
---
Raging Dead
I think we lost the connection. I’m surprised the call lasted that long. Brice just recently got a smart phone for the first time and he’s not… exactly… tech savvy. Anyway, that’s just about all I have for you today. I would like to end this episode by warning Athena and Max ahead of time that… while I am cordial and respectful here today… when that bell ring… I’m going to tear them limb from limb. The AWF World’s Championship practically has my nameplate on it already… and I will stop at nothing to become the first to hold the top prize in AWF.
Athena… Max Ironside… all your base… are belong to Gust…
[STOP]
High heels clack along the pavement in this vignette, telling everyone who can hear that Priscilla Kelly and her leather dominatrix boots are on the move. If the loud clacking of the heels doesn't get the attention of passers by, then the depraved noises of the gimp suit wearing Prince Albert, following behind his mistress on all fours, being tugged along by his leash, definitely does. He barks loudly at a mother walking with two young children on the other side of the road, causing them to bolt away scared, scarred with the image they just witnessed. Later in life, those children would watch Pulp Fiction, and have sleepless nights for months. Priscilla just cackles.
Priscilla Kelly
Good doggy! Goooood doggy!!!
She pats Albert on his smooth bald head, and Albert pants eagerly in response. A car passes by, the driver's traumatised eyes locked on the disgusting sight he sees next to him, rather than at the road ahead. Priscilla notices, and winks in his direction, right before the car crashes into the back of another car stopped at a red light. The drivers get out and start arguing with each other, as Priscilla continues to laugh, before moving onward down the path.
The Succubus comes to the door of the neighbourhood Post Office, and steps inside. The other customers, lined up, turn and look immediately uncomfortable and freaked out at the sight of the pair that just stepped in, whilst the young woman behind the counter only sighs and puts her head in her hand, faintly muttering 'these two again'.
Priscilla Kelly
Maeve my darling, it's time to drop off another letter.
Maeve
There's a postbox outside you can use!
Priscilla Kelly
But I love seeing your delectable face! Reckon I'll have it under me one day.
Maeve lets out another loud and bemused sigh, as Priscilla moves ahead of the line right over to the counter where she stands. An older fellow in the line looks insulted at this, and steps out of the line towards them, his face bulging with anger.
Angry Man
And what do you think you're doing!? I'm not waiting in this line for no reason!
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah I'm not waiting in that line for no reason either.
Angry Man
Gosh, you are the epitome of a millenial aren't you! Expecting everything on a platter! Coming in here dressed like that! Like a dirty little slut!
Albert wraps his gigantic hand almost entirely around the man's head, and before the man can even finish his whimper, it is smashed hard into the protective glass. He crumples to the floor, unconscious, as Priscilla grins and bends down towards him.
Priscilla Kelly
Thanks for the compliment.
The line of people in the post office are terrified now, as Priscilla pays them no mind, only peering back up to look at the now very agitated Maeve. Priscilla lifts up a letter, scribbled with red love hearts, and has deep red lipstick marks on it. She raises an eyebrow at Maeve.
Priscilla Kelly
It's a good one this time my deary, erotically oozing. Do you want to read it, or shall I give you a reading myself?
Maeve
I'll read it.
Priscilla hands the letter over to Maeve, who goes to take it, but Priscilla holds it in place so she can sensually grab Maeve's hand in her own, applying just a little bit of extra pressure on her hand.
Priscilla Kelly
You know the address, make sure it gets to him. You how upset my doggy will be if we hear it doesn't.
Maeve
It will… it will.
Priscilla Kelly
And Maeve, make sure to give the envelope a good long lick.
Priscilla winks at Maeve, before she tugs at Albert again, who falls back down to all fours as he follows her out of the building. Priscilla takes a big breath of fresh air as she steps back outside.
Priscilla Kelly
I love the smell of violence in the morning.
She looks down at Albert, who strokes his head against her crotch.
Priscilla Kelly
It shouldn't be long until we get a letter back my deary, and if it's anything like last time, it'll be even more depraved than mine. He's putty in our hands, my prince… and I can't wait to play with him.
Albert woofs enthusiastically, as Priscilla pulls at his collar especially tightly, causing him to gag in pleasure as he's forced to follow her clacking footsteps further down the street, into more unsuspecting and soon to be traumatised passers by. Crossfade back to the arena.
Christian Cage: I need a cigarette, partner.
The crowd welcomes Matt Sydal welcoming as the wrestling veteran walks into a PrimeTime taping for the first time. He responds with waves and hand slaps of endearment as he takes his time enjoying his entrance. The nameplate flashes across the screen as he takes a selfie with a kid.
Mark Beverly: The following qualifying match for the AWF Provincial Championship tournament is set for one fall. Coming down the aisle, from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing one hundred eighty five pounds: MATT! SSSSYYYYYDAL!
Lance Storm: Matt Sydal caught up with AWF lead reporter Kevin Kelly to tell us his thoughts coming into tonight.
A dual screen view is fancily put into place: the live entrance ongoing in the top-right, the pretaped interview in the bottom-left:
Kevin Kelly: I know you are just as excited as I am to work for Bret Hart, you've mentioned his influence on you before.
Matt Sydal
As a fan you either grow up on Bret's side or on Shawn Michaels' side. I was a Bret Hart guy. Bret and the rest of his family, the Guerrero family, The Malenko family, The Steiner brothers, Ricky Steamboat, so many influences. It was also really awesome to meet those who I grew up watching as a kid . Bret has praised me a lot and him signing me still felt so amazing even after this decade of him knowing of me.
Kevin Kelly: You've always had a great reputation.
Matt Sydal
Somehow. I've made a lot of mistakes , I feel extremely fortunate that my reputation never changed. I am fortunate to have hindsight. That's what makes me better than my first opponent.
At first glance, it may seem obvious he's not a threat but I've been around way to long enough to know you should never underestimate anyone, maybe he's great. He has a kick? It could possibly be the best. He better watch out though, I have very educated feet and knees.
Kevin Kelly: What happens from a debut, do they matter?
Matt Sydal
It's all about momentum. Momentum is what matters most, it's keeping that momentum up. I'm going to build up that momentum, { raises arm up higher and higher) and make that impact with the Air Bourne. He may be the best flight attendant, he may be comfortable in the sky, he has nothing on me. I can promise that unequivocally.
The view snaps back to normal, Sydal in the ring taunting for the crowd.
"YOLORERIROOOOOOOOOOOO"
José Figueiras comes out to the sound of his theme song. Not the whole thing, just the instrumental. The ENTIRE arena claps along, audience including. The unusual influx of energy in the usually monotonous Lance Storm is shocking, like he’s been possessed by an energy of joy.
Lance Storm: OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!
José stops at the stage area and does the D-Generation X (Remember them?) crotch chop. The crowd goes wild!
Mark Beverly: His opponent, simply: JOSÉ! FIGUEIRASSSSSSSHHHHHhhhh!
Crowd
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
He does it again!
Crowd
YEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
José Figueiras grabs a microphone from seemingly out of nowhere and signals for the production team to fade his song out. They do as told, not abruptly cutting it off, but phasing it out properly, with a smooth fade-out.
Thank you, boys.
The crowd goes absolutely FUCKING insane again! Figueiras gives a ridiculously charming chuckle.
José Figueiras
Ah, you silly geese! I hadn't even addressed you yet!
Crowd
Aww!!!
José Figueiras
BUT NOW I AM!
Crowd
HAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! FIGUEIRAS! FIGUEIRAS! FIGUEIRAS! FIGUEIRAS!
José Figueiras
Alright, alright now, settle down.
José Figueiras charms the entire audience (at home and otherwise) with the most beautiful, brightest, most gorgeous smile. This is objective.
José Figueiras
Tonight is the night!
The crowd goes fucking mental yet again. Some people seem to actually genuinely die out of excitement…
José Figueiras
Tonight is the the night José Figueiras makes his long-awaited début in the Alberta Wrestling Federation!
Cheers again, obviously.
José Figueiras
It really is a dream come true... I've been watching this precise show on television since I was a year old! Can you believe it!? It's incredible. Just an incredible feeling. I feel so flattered, so privileged to be here with every single last single one last every single last one of you!
The crowd goes wild at José's e-feddy abuse of the "every single last one of you", and you can tell a lot of them were part of e-feds earlier in their lives or even currently, who'd have thought e-fedding made it into this decade!? José knew. José always knew, and therefore he knew exactly who to appeal to. This is the exact reason which had brought him today, to choose wisely the words "every single last single one last every single last one of you", when he could really have said "y'all".
José Figueiras
When I was wrestling in bingo halls all those years ago and everyone kept telling me to move out of the way and make space for other people - people who had been there for much longer than I had - I said no! I always said I will not move out of the way for you. I was there to make a statement. I was there to assert myself. I was there to stake a claim. I was there to stake. My. Claim.
The fans cheer like the moronic mindless mongoloids they are.
José Figueiras
And when I was wrestling in Europe, same as when I was wrestling in Japan, they always tried to push me out of the way because I had a career beyond wrestling, or because I'm not kawaii enough. Respectively. And no! I made my own space, I made my statement, I stook my claim!
The crowd cheers again. Figueiras starts pointless and briskly pacing back and forth on the stage area.
José Figueiras
And now I'm here and I will be doing the exact same thing! I'll make my statement. I will assert myself. And I will stake!
…
José Figueiras
My!
…
José Figueiras
Claim!
The fans go absolutely fucking bonkers because they had no idea what José was going to say, even though he's said it tonnes before. José waits for everyone to calm their tits before he addresses the situation yet again.
José Figueiras
And maybe you haven't heard a lot about me, MATT SYDAL. And I've heard very little about you, myself, to be very frankly honestly sincere. I asked one of my wives who you were and he said you were part of a Tag Team called Air Boom. Can I just say how fucking SHIT the name "Air Boom" is? I swear to fuck. I once knew someone called Spookeditch Spongabip Tootlegip and that was still a better name than whatever the shit you came up for for a championship winning Tag Team. YOU GOT PUT IN A TITLE MATCH AND YOU CALLED YOUR TAG TEAM AIR BOOM WHAT THE FUCK!?
Figueiras breathes for a bit, the red in his face slowly phasing away.
José Figueiras
I know who you are, Evan Bourne.
Figueiras gets extremely serious, and he gets as uncomfortably close to the nearest camera as possible. Basically the entire screen is filled by his eyes and nose.
José Figueiras
And everything about you just screams how weak you are. Just a factually, unadulterated lack of any semblance of strength of character impersonated. That's what you are... And just like I didn't let seniority stop me from succeeding in European wrestling, and how I didn't let how little I look like a teenage schoolgirl stop me from succeeding in Japan, and most of all how I didn't let random old ladies who were there busting their arses playing Bingo day in and day out stop me from becoming the BEST WRESTLER IN EVERY BINGO HALL I'VE EVER FUCKING BEEN TO!
Figueiras takes another breather, heavily this time.
José Figueiras
Just as sure as I had absolutely nothing to do with 9/11, I sure as FUCK won't be losing to you tonight. As a matter of FUCKING FACT, I will beat the shit out of you if you even dare show up to this match. So put your little tail back between your little legs, run to another meaningless promotion, change your name, and do your flips. Because the moment I signed a contract with AWF I promised to myself I would, if need be single-handedly, make it the top, biggest Professional Wrestling federation in the modern world. And as the new face of this company I can assure you, buddy, there is NO space for cowardly vanilla midgets in my ring. And if Evan Dylan Matt James Bourne Sydal isn't a cowardly vanilla midget, I don't know what is.
José Figueiras drops the microphone as he pulls from his pocket square an oddly familiar black mask with a green trim just before he rips off his flight attending shirt like Clark Kent to reveal a black skin-tight suit tucked into his slacks. A fantastically stitched green “H” is prominent, but how is it just coming to our attention the massive green, glitter cloth he’s had hanging out of his back pocket the whole time? That damn smile. It turns out to be a cape (making this now the third AWF wrestler to don a cape in three weeks), and the microphone he had previously has returned to his grasp.
José Figueiras
STAND BACK! THERE’S UM FURACÃO COMING THROUGH!
The crowd jumps to their feet as he does the Hurricane pose. Stomps and screams from the crowd increase as he sprints like John Cena down the ramp. He slides in that same slightly sideways fashion, as well.
Ding!
But he keeps sliding all the way to the opposite side and out, without ever slowing momentum! Sydal darts his eyes to keep up, but Figueiras has begun a ridiculous fast sprint around the ring before suddenly rolling underneath the ropes closest to the hard camera.
Lance Storm: Figueiras finally coming back into the squared circle - oh he’s ducked that clothesline and he’s rolled right back out the other side.
Christian Cage: What the hell is this guy doing?
Another four laps are suddenly broken with a slide in, but Matt has kept his eye and swings out another lariat. This one is dodged again, but Figueiras doesn’t leave the ring this time, instead surprising Sydal with a rope rebound and return with a form-perfect spinning corkscrew elbow. The audience can’t possibly get any more excited!
Lance Storm: That was quite honestly beautiful but are we surprised at this point?
Sydal is groggy but Figueiras does not let up the attack. Before long, Matt finds himself in a rather precarious position: in his opponent’s clutches, back-to-back, and upside down. Figueiras drops and somehow there is one louder pop: VERTEBREAKER!
Lance Storm: The shoulders are down and he’s keeping as he’s landed.
Al Trundy: 1!.....
2!...........
3!
DING DING DING!
Christian Cage: That is by far the quickest match in AWF history yet!
Figueiras is right to his feet, jumps into the Hurricane pose, and holds it. That’s all he will do as the full version of his music plays on.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, advancing to round one at AWF Gold Rush: JOSÉ! FIGUEIRASSSSSSSHHHHHhhhh!
The pose remains.
José Figueiras d. Matt Sydal in 1:23
A transition. The scene starts with a dark shadow over the screen lens until it moves away and you know it was just one of the newest signees to AWF, Laci Valentine trying to adjust her camera. She sits with her body partially blocked by a laptop. She looks earnestly at the camera.
Laci Valentine
Full disclosure, I have zero editing experience so until I get the hang of that these promo videos are going to be straight up Raw and uncut.
She snickers as if she was relaying some inside joke to herself.
Laci Valentine
So in my debut match I had to do some Gen-Y research. Mainly, I googled. Yup. Not ashamed to say it. And the reason I had to turn to google is because as I am reading the bio of my first opponent it states her style as 'Super Junior'. Okay, sure. No idea what that is so here I go and…
She types a few things into a laptop which only the back of it can be seen. It’s decorated with a leopard print cover. She’s silent for a least a minute as her eyes dart back and forth reading the words that the audience otherwise can’t see.
Laci Valentine
...it says that she's basically a junior heavyweight.
Laci's eyes go wide as she looks back up at the camera.
Laci Valentine
Ummm... okay. Sure. Is this one of those instances where we let someone believe that they're something they're not because it's not politically correct to argue? I guess size shouldn't matter and heck, I'm definitely not going to begrudge someone on pursuing their dream but this girl is 5'2 and one hundred and twenty-five pounds. Plus it says she was a ballerina. I've got height and weight on her. Plus I'm pretty freaking agile.
Again, I've gone off on a tangent. Her bio says she held a Heavyweight in 2019. To be honest, I kind of gotta just take her word for it, but as I said in my video thingy, I am not going to let anyone intimidate me. I know what I am capable of. Not that I'm going to underestimate her because she's four inches shorter. Even the little guys get their day.
She stops, takes a breath to re-establish her thoughts.
Laci Valentine
I know her type though. She'll probably try to hit me right in my girly center with a bunch of comments about me being a rookie. I get it. Everyone uses that. And yeah, I am a rookie. I am one year out of wrestling school. I have only done Indy shows and my losses equal my wins. Cool.
She offers the camera a cool smile that doesn’t actually reveal anything.
Laci Valentine
That might make me the underdog here but it in no way means that it's inevitable that I'm going to lose either. I made a point of requesting a spot on the first show here, even though I was too late in getting booked. I wasn't afraid to put myself out there and I wasn't arrogant enough to think I needed no introduction either. I mean, have we heard much from Ms.King since she signed with AWF? I mean I know it's only been like three days but if she's as good as she says wouldn't she want people to acknowledge her?
She stops, taping her head.
Laci Valentine
Wait, I guess I'm kinda already doing that in this promo... but half the stuff I'm saying is merely speculative though... I mean no one can really blame me for having to assume though without anything really to go off except a bio that states she thinks she might be an anime character…
She sighs heavily.
Laci Valentine
I'm not really doing a great job at promoting myself here. Let me restart.
She wiggles around on her chair and makes a show of trying to ‘get serious’.
Laci Valentine
I am Laci Valentine. I am a pretty good high-flyer. I was scouted by a veteran in the Indy Scene who uses the name Babelicious and then signed by Bret Hart himself. I mean that alone has to say something right? I am confident in what I can do. I love what I do and with a potential championship on the line I have a lot riding on this match. While this is huge to me, to someone like Christina who has 'held many titles' a secondary title isn't going to be as important to her. She will probably see this as just a stepping stone to whoever ends up winning the first tournament.
She leans into the camera.
Laci Valentine
If I had to put money on it though, I'd say Sasha has the best odds at that. Not sucking up or anything.
She leans back.
Laci Valentine
I am definitely not going to go into this match thinking I have it won already, because there are so many things that could change the odds. Plus, arrogance makes you do stupid things and stupid is not a word I would ever use to describe myself. I have the instincts for this. I have been fighting, one way or another, my whole life. Now I can do it for fun.
She winks.
Laci Valentine
And in the chance that I don't come out of this match the winner? Then I get back up and keep fighting because one match doesn't dictate the rest of my life. Failure is humbling and it's grounding. It makes you appreciate what you have all that much more. While I may not have some ballerina face kick or a wrestling family, I do have more stick-to-it-ness then anyone I have ever met. I know what it's like to work hard to earn what I have.
The camera refocuses and one can almost make out the framed diploma on the wall behind her, the only words that can be clearly seen are 'York University' but not the type of diploma it is.
Laci Valentine
I'm pretty confident though. I'm going into this giving it my everything because that's what I do. I am definitely not going to be sorry about winning my match and I am not going to be sorry about moving up in the tournament either. I may be a nice Canadian girl but I am not nice about doing what I gotta do to be the best. Even nice girls gotta break a few hearts.
She uses her fingers to make a heart shape before she reaches forward to shut off the camera. We’re sent to break.
Theodore Long, Rodney Mack, & Jazz star in WWE Studios’ next summer direct-to-DVD release: ‘Thuggin ‘n’ Buggin’ II: The Bitch is Back.’
Promotion for ‘Frontiers’ by Journey as the official theme of Alberta Wrestling Federation’s 30 May pay-per-view debut, Gold Rush.
The return to broadcast is of the backstage area, the crowd popping when they see Bret Hart stood next to his brother Bruce. They face the camera, but their attention is to the young woman in front of them. Bret’s speaking but his words are inaudible over Father to Son’s instrumentals playing as background music.
Lance Storm: Welcome back to AWF Tuesday Night PrimeTime, and That’s obviously AWF founder Bret Hart with his brother Bruce. I believe that’s Jetta, one of our most recent signees and a wrestler who competes in our next qualifying match. Those are the right friends to have.
Bret’s head turns up at the sound of the music and he points while saying something before putting his hand out for Jetta to shake then slaps his brother on the back. Jetta turns to reveal a face of determination and begins walking toward the camera, its handler doing well with keeping up. Bruce Hart follows behind her as Bret walks in the opposite direction. As they approach the Gorilla position, the cameraman begins to stagger and films them walking past, Bruce seemingly pep-talking Jetta until the curtain is reached.
Jetta crosses the plane on her own to a welcoming applause from the audience, perhaps a natural trust given in her with the company she keeps. The camera cuts to a wide view of the ramp, progressively zooming into Jetta, her nameplate flashes across the screen for the first time on international primetime (hurhur) television.
Mark Beverly: The following qualifying match for the AWF Provincial Championship is set for one fall. Making her way down the aisle, from Edmonton, Alberta, weighing one hundred ten pounds: JETTA!
The crowd gives her a little more with the announcement of her name.
Lance Storm: These were the words Jetta had for the world and her opponent ahead of her debut.
The entrance video transmission shrinks into the upper-right side of the screen as another video appears diagonally. Jetta can be seen from the waist up with nothing but a black background.
Jetta
I have to admit, I’m pretty nervous.
This is my first job in this industry, and just like everyone else in this brand new upstart, I have dreams and aspirations. Just like everyone else, I want to stand out - be noticed - be liked and respected. I know I’m going to meet people who judge, who look down on people like me for no reason other than to validate their own ‘mean person’ existence - and that is fine. I have thick skin, I can take it. And beneath that thick skin is heart, and that is what will elevate me past all of my eventual naysayers here in the AWF.
But don’t mistake my nerves for a weakness. I may be new to the business, especially in comparison to some in this company, but I’m not green enough to let fear - to let nerves - take control and disrupt my game plan. When the pressure is on, self-induced or not, I perform better. I push through those nerves, through that fear, and come through on the other side a better version of me.
And that’s my goal. To better myself. To become the best that I could possibly be. And I know that my first opponent will be a true test.
Eclipse; it’s safe to say that no one knows much about you, other than you’re ‘she-borg’, cyberpunk. You’re bigger and taller than I am, and probably a little more experienced - but I can promise you one thing, Eclipse, and it’s my level of determination cannot be matched. You can rely on your MMA and Karate backgrounds all you want but I won’t stay down.
I can’t stay down.
This is my golden opportunity. This is the reason why I’ve busted my ass off for the last couple of years - for this chance. All I needed was one chance, one match, to impress. And this is it. So the get up, the Karate and MMA, the advantages you have? It may be a glaring fact that the odds are against me, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to back down. As I said, when the pressure is on - I push through. I persevere, and when it’s all said and done - I come out better than I was before.
Win or lose, I will gain valuable experience.
But the idea is to win, while the goal is to make a lasting impression. The goal is to not waste this opportunity. Bret Hart and his scouts have put their faith in me, so the least I can do is go out there and give absolutely everything that I have.
All of the time spent training has led me to this. I won’t let Urijah down. I won’t let myself down.
It doesn’t matter to me that I’m the smallest in this fight. I have the biggest heart. I have the most determination. I will fight tooth and nail to make the name Jetta mean something here in the AWF.
And if all goes according to plan, I will move on in the Provincial Championship tournament. I’m sorry it has to be at your expense, Eclipse, and I’m sure you will be a huge challenge for me.
My fight and efforts will make a lasting impression, and my intentions are to win this match. I am ready to push through these nerves. I am ready to push through the fear of the unknown.
I am ready, Eclipse.
As the cameras revert back, she’s since entered the ring quickly before posing on the ropes toward the hard camera. Television static fades the view into a scene without any heads-up. Open on a derelict warehouse storage room. Fluorescent strip lights blaze overhead and cables, body armour and weapon parts litter the filthy concrete floor. In the centre of the room, atop a stack of crates, sits a large monitor crackling with static. Thick, bulbous cables snake from the monitor into the bottom crate.
Without warning, the static cuts out and a 10 second countdown clock lights up the monitor. Sirens blare in the distance, indifferent as the countdown finishes.
The screen goes black, except for the words:
BEGIN TRANSMISSION
Another quick burst of static and finally a picture appears on the monitor. Eclipse's head and shoulders fill the frame, her porcelain skin and pitch-black eyes a piercing strip of light between the dark masses of her dreadlocks and face mask. Her eyes narrow as she stares the camera down.
Eclipse
Hello. I would say don't be afraid, but that would be deeply misleading.
She lets out a throaty chuckle and cracks her neck.
Eclipse
You may not know it yet, but the age of Eclipse is coming. I've been training, fighting... ready to take my rightful place as the She-Borg Queen. And nobody's going to stand in my way.
Eclipse leans closer to the camera. Her eyes burn, intense with desire and rage.
Eclipse
Least of all... you, Jetta. You'd better start praying to whatever you believe in, or start running to somewhere sheltered and safe, because once you're in my grasp there's no going back. I will crush you and knock you to the floor like the pathetic child you are.
Eclipse's hand rises into frame, slowly forming a fist to emphasise her point. Her index finger extends out and she points down the lens.
Eclipse
Let me tell you, you have no idea who you're going up against. But you'll know soon. You'll know, and you'll feel it, and if you recover you'll tell your friends. And they'll tell their friends. And so on and so forth until word spreads and the world rightly learns to fear the name... Eclipse. You needn't worry where I came from; who I was. That's not important. What you should concern yourself with is my goal. Where I'm going. You're merely the first pawn on my journey to claim my rightful throne. I know what power means, Jetta. I know what it means and I know what philosophy it requires, and I have that in spades. Despite what you claim, you are not ready. You never will be. But if you choose to stand in my way I won't discriminate. I'll crush you the same way I'll crush anyone who opposes me. Soon, the only ones left will be those in my servitude. And the reign of the She-Borg will begin. Look to the sky, Jetta. It's only a matter of time.
END TRANSMISSION
Despite the high tempo of the theme attached to her, Eclipse’s emergence is stoic and focused. Those in the Bell Centre do not quite know how to react to her presence without much more than a more unapproving murmur. A few of the more impressionable adolescent crowd participants seem taken by her aura as she flaunts by them in her strange graceful, but purposeful saunter. The nameplate.
Mark Beverly: Her opponent, from Detroit, Michigan, weighing one hundred thirty pounds: ECLIPSE!
Christian Cage: There’s something about this woman that we all better look out for.
Lance Storm: In a rare instance, I agree with you, Cage.
As soon as she enters the ring, Eclipse wastes no time in walking right up to Jetta, who stands in the center of the ring. Giving up five inches of height, Jetta has to stare up at her opposition. Referee Filipe Santana motions for the start.
Ding!
Immediately, the She-Borg throws a fast right-legged karate kick to the gut that topples Jetta to one knee before she quickly forces herself back up. Eclipse follows up with a low karate kick to the thigh, then a second, before the left leg surprises her lower abdomen, causing Jetta to fold up and slowly crumble to both knees with each strike. A loud sound of leather boot on human face fills the arena when one final kick from her nearly knocks the rookie’s head off her shoulders.
Lance Storm: I don’t foresee her coming back after a kick delivered like that.
Her body falls limp on the canvas and Eclipse takes her time rolling her opponent prone.
Filipe Santana: 1!.....
2!
KICKOUT
The arm used to get the shoulder up is quickly grabbed by Eclipse and suddenly Jetta finds herself in a cross armbar. Six shots to the legs seem to loosen Eclipse’s hold, but the two following to the grip effectively breaks it. Jetta quickly rolls away to find room to kip up.
Lance Storm: She’s athletic, that was smart.
Christian Cage: Or it was a waste of energy at way too soon of a time.
Lance Storm: I guess we’ll see about that - Eclipse with a side-headlock takeover and now she’s got another hold put in here. She’s definitely sticking to that ground and pound game in the early going, trying to wear Jetta out quickly and effectively.
Jetta has enough wherewithal and strength to manage around a smooth leg swing to get to one knee and disrupt the steady grip the She-Borg previously had. Jetta stretches out for an obvious elbow strike to the gut - so she had everyone believe, switching to grab both legs. Eclipse is not ready and she finds herself on her back when her legs are taken from under her.
Lance Storm: Look at this, Cage: Jetta with shades of the man she was talking to just minutes ago, our founder Bret Hart.
Christian Cage: What a damned kiss up!
Lance Storm: Eclipse is attempting to kick the hold away - and she caught her in the side, she’s got her hair - small package.
Filipe Santana: 1!.........
2!...........
KICKOUT
Lance Storm: These women won’t let either get the upper hand: both to their feet - Jetta ducks the clothesline but Eclipse lands a karate’s ushiro geri. Irish whip---no, quick reversal even while Jetta holds her gut, and Eclipse is to the ropes - spinning wheel kick by Jetta is ducked.
The She-Borg is back to her feet just as Jetta lands awkwardly thanks to the momentum expectation having been different. A brutal flying knee crashes into the face and the crowd boos at the first sight that there could be a definitive shift in momentum coming along. Her body rolls towards the ropes, a kin geri sending her rolling underneath the bottom rope, a lucky grab by her left leg and arm keeping her from hitting the mat. As Jetta pulls herself up, Eclipse is suddenly sprinting and planting for a mae geri.
Lance Storm: Jetta has dodged it and now Eclipse is in an awkward spot with her leg caught on the middle rope up.
Draping over the top rope, Jetta sees a chance and takes a tight grab of it before dropping her body down to the mats outside.
Christian Cage: She might’ve broken her arm! This damned savage!
The She-Borg looks the most human she has all night when her body recoils to the mat, grabbing at her arm.
Christian Cage: Oh would these people shut up?!
The crowd has popped at the shift, although Jetta keeps her focus on her opponent rather than letting the reaction soak in. Once in the ring again, Jetta grabs the arm to slam down on the mat aggressively before taking control of it again, planting it down and driving a high-Hart like knee to the bicep. One quick right jab dazes Eclipse who was previously fighting back against her setting up for the second.
Lance Storm: She’s getting a wider base, now, pulling Eclipse up with her just slightly - an elbow to that inside bicep. She’s found her spot. Another one finds its mark - arm drag and right into the submission.
Christian Cage: I don’t think Jetta’s gonna wanna keep sprawling with Eclipse on the ground like this. She’s already getting back up!
Eclipse is nearly to her feet when she all of the sudden drops and whips her own arm drag. Jetta almost senses the shift, however, holding onto the arm firm, rolling with her shoulders, and following through, causing a second arm drag of her own, this one breaking the grip.
Lance Storm: These women will not stay down.
Lance Storm is right, with both women immediately charging each other again, but a spinning kick to the face drops Jetta limp. Eclipse rolls into the hook of the leg.
Filipe Santana: 1!.......
2!............
KICKOUT
Lance Storm: That was the nearest fall yet, without any doubt.
Eclipse mounts the prone Jetta and sends one straight left jab that bounces her head off the apron. The She-Borg manages to land a quick right before Jetta is able to get her arms up to block the onslaught of blows that seem to just keep coming. Montreal pours in the boos as the referee has to begin to call off the action.
Christian Cage: That’s right! Beat her face in! Beat her asskissing face to a pulp!
Lance Storm: Goodness, Christian. The referee is to four.
Robotically, Eclipse stops and stands, pulling Jetta up with her. An Irish whip sends Jetta to the ropes.
Lance Storm: Sunset flip - wait no, what is this? I thought Jetta was going for a counter-sunset flip there, but she held onto Eclipse’s waist and now is belly-to-back hanging on like a backpack.
Christian Cage: Oh, look at this, Storm, look at the way she’s wrapping her legs around Eclipse’s arms and neck! I’ve seen Kurt Angle do this!
Filipe Santana: Do you want to quit?! Do you give up?!
Jetta’s ankles cross over Eclipse’s head, forcing her opponent into an incredibly uncomfortable looking position. The bigger woman attempts to make it to the middle of the ring to execute some sort of maneuver, but the use of energy might have been the nail in the coffin as she falls to a single knee.
Lance Storm: Jetta won’t let up and Eclipse’s head is falling, her eyes are glazing and slowly closing. That last knee is down.
Filipe Santana: Do you want to quit?! Eclipse?! Eclipse, can you hear me?!
Lance Storm: She looks out of it and the referee is raising the hand to check.
Filipe Santana: 1!
The arm raised one more time.
Filipe Santana: 2!
Jetta’s ankle-cross visibly tightens and Eclipse begins to lean even deeper. The arm raised and let go for the third time.
Filipe Santana: 3! Ring the bell!
DING DING DING!
Jetta releases the grip immediately and Eclipse’s body falls unconscious. Filipe Santana helps her to her feet.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match by technical knockout, advancing to the first round at AWF Gold Rush: JETTA!
The referee raises her hand from the center of the ring and the crowd cheers along her victory. She turns to notice Bruce Hart has made his first appearance in an AWF arena, clapping along for her on the stage.
Christian Cage: Oh, c’mon...
A proud smile comes across her face as she exits the ring and walks toward the back. The camera cuts to a vignette from earlier in the show’s weekly build. A woman.
Christina King
I have returned stronger than before. The five months I spent in recovery revealed to me the truth of me being. I can not be stopped. I can not be killed. Every injury serves to make me stronger. I am a warrior, born to do battle with the best and to take glory with my own two hands. I am a future legend. I am Christns King, the master of my own destiny and the maker of miracles.
A stage in an empty auditorium. The sound of Christina’s voice echoes throughout the building. Seats have been set up, but again they are empty. Upon the stage we see Christina, dressed in a black suit and tie outfit and a pair of black sunglasses. Her hair is slicked back. She is standing behind a podium and upon the front of the podium is a symbol that appears to be a phoenix, the symbol of rebirth to many cultures of the world. Upon her face is a smirk, like that of a cool car salesman ready to sell you something for far more than it’s worth.
Christina King
I carry a legacy of violence that began many generations ago. That legacy was passed to my mother and uncle, and then to me. I unleashed that violence upon the world of professional wrestling in 2019 and went undefeated. Many still doubt me, but my true believers know. They know that I am a true fighter, that I am the one woman who can win this tournament and take that championship. None can stand before my anger, violence, and madness and hope to survive. None.
You may doubt me because of my size. You many doubt me because of my past as a dance. Perhaps you doubt my accomplishments. These doubts act as nothing but fuel for my anger. It is true that, at one point, I was a naive child. It is true that during those times I underestimated many things but I have come into a great understanding of the ways of the world. It is in this way that I now live, as one who truly understands. Let me speak of my understanding so that you, too, will KNOW.
When I debuted I was given nothing. Underestimated as I was many fell before me. This is how I know that underestimating a rooking could easily lead to your downfall. I will give Laci Valentine her due in this way. You may be green but I know all it takes is one slip up to lose, one slip up to lose grasp of the greatness we stand on the edge of. You, however, have shown your true colors. You doubt my championship reigns. You doubt my ability. You focus more on my history and my past as a dancer than you do the danger of facing me. The danger is real, Laci.
The former magical girl turned MAD VILLAIN takes a step backwards and places her sunglasses into her front suit pocket. We see Christina’s piercing blue eyes. Then she takes one step forward and at the same time sends a kick with enough force to send the podium flying forward. When we see her face again she has a new, different look to her. One of absolute madness.
Christina King
Do I look like something you can easily walk over, Laci? Give me some damn respect, girl. I’m not doubting your obvious lack of skill but here you stand doubting me! I didn’t crawl out of the murk and mire of professional wrestling to be treated like some sort of joke! I’m her to rack up wins and take championships. I’m not here to lay down and let you walk all over me. Let’s get that straight right the fuck now. I may have persistent psychosis but I’m pretty sure you disrespected me. I may be on enough medication to make a normal person into a vegetable but I’m PRETTY SURE you spoke badly about me. I don’t like it Laci, I don’t like it at all.
I’ll fill you in. This kick you spoke of, it’s taken out legends and knocked out giants. It’s more than a ballerina kick, it’s a deadly weapon.Alone it would be enough to take out any single person, but it’s part of the arsenal of a woman who isn’t even sure what’s real anymore. That’s me, Laci. I’m a true madwoman. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I’m fueled by insanity and anger. Professional wrestling forgot about me while I was recovering and it’s time I reminded everyone who I am.
I don’t doubt that you can beat me, Laci. The question is how far you’re willing to go to win. Me? I’m willing to do anything I need to do. I’m willing to stop just short of taking your career.
Christina gives a firm nod and removes her sunglasses from her suit pocket. With a flick of her wrist Christina quickly places the sunglasses back upon her face.
Christina King
I clawed out of the muck and mire to be something more than a flake and a fluke. If I have to hurt you, I will. This isn’t about who hired me. It doesn’t matter how much money AWF is paying for me. All that matters is the battle and the prize at the end. On May 12th I’m going to unleash all of my madness upon Laci Valentine and it’s something everyone in AWF is going to want to watch very closely. I’ve been on the bench far too long.
Far too long…
Christina takes a deep breath and slaps herself, restoring a tiny bit of her senses.
Christina King
Step into the ring with me, Laci. Dance with me. And I will…. LET… MADNESS… REIGN!
Our hero reaches out with both arms, as if to hug her opponent. The scene slowly fades to black, and then back to the arena. We come to a shot of Mark Beverly stood in the middle of the ring.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is the first-hour main event, and is a three-way dance in the semi-finals of the inaugural Alberta Wrestling Federation World’s Championship tournament! In this bout, there will be no count-outs and no disqualifications; the only way to win is to successfully eliminate both of your opponents by pinfall or submission inside the ring.
Lieutenant Andorra begins to make the long walk towards the ring, the crowd going wild for their underdog champion.
Mark Beverly: Making his way down the aisle, from Andorra, weighing two hundred pounds: LIEUUUUUUTENANT! ANNNNDORRRRA!
He stops halfway and points at his family in the crowd, all the lads are there except Lucas, who isn't there. An empty chair sports a sign which reads 'Please help me find my son. He is Lucas. He is my son.' Lt. Andorra poses like the squirrel from the interpretive dance meme for a good 20 seconds, the music stops after 12. He holds the pose until a microphone is hurled at him and hits him on the left thigh. He fumbles around to pick up the microphone before looking intensely into the camera.
Another 20 boring seconds pass.
Lt. Andorra's manner suddenly changes into one of a warm entertainer, he offers winks and nods to the crowd but only his family returns them. When he eventually turns back to the camera, he speaks in a horrendous attempt at a Bruce Forsyth impression, sounding almost exactly like an Andorra attempting to do a Bruce Forsyth impression.
Lt. Andorra
Next up tonight we have me.
He pauses for a laugh which never comes.
Lt. Andorra
Last week I beaten up a man who has since probably explode somebody's Mama.
He pauses for another laugh, adding a chuckle of his own when the crowd again doesn't respond.
Lt. Andorra
Do I feeling responsible? Why you don't ask me after this fight now today and see if my today, my opponents today, my today opponents as well blow up a Mama as well.
There's a massive 'oooh' from one person in the crowd, his eight year old daughter MIRANDA. Lt. Andorra points at her and shouts 'ooh' before dropping the mic. After a moment he realises he still needs the mic and scrabbles around for it.
Lt. Andorra
Let's see how I got on in training.
From his stooped position he tries and fails to pull off a cool kneel. All eyes are on the titantron, which plays nothing. Trying to save face:
Lt. Andorra
I can tell you is was a diff -
The videotape starts playing.
EXT. ROCKY MOUNTAINS - DAY
Lt. Andorra and his entire family, including Lucas, but excluding his first wife because she was murdered by Rey Mysterio in the third most brutal act of vehicular manslaughter ever recorded in Andorra.
The famalam are having a picnic on top of a massive mountain. The oldest daughter, PENELOPE, is shouting loudly and very close to a mic.
Penelope
DAD YOU SAID YOU WANTED US TO HAVE A NICE FAMILY PICNIC TO BOND AND CELEBRATE YOUR VICTORY IN THE LAST MATCH BUT NOW YOU MESSED UP YOUR NAVIGATION AND WE'RE PICNIC-ING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES.
Cut to: Lt. Andorra is being interviewed with his family standing stock still behind him, facing in various directions.
Lt. Andorra
Is true, but what better places for family making memories than a big picnic! BIG PICNIC!
He runs back over to his family who all spring back to life chanting.
Family
BIG PICNIC! BIG PICNIC! PIG BINCIC!
Penelope
NOTHING CAN RUIN THIS DAY
The family hear the sound of barking behind them, Penelope especially has her eyes beam wide, a smile emerging on her face, as she looks at her father.
Penelope
And now a doggy! It just get better and better-
She turns, and a smile has never faded from a face so fast. There, before her, is not the cute doggy her mind promised her, but the very un-cute, bordering on incredibly disgustingly ugly… Prince Albert. He is clad in leather gear, a BDSM dog mask over his face, as drool drips through the small breathing holes that press disgustingly against his face.
Penelope
Umm… that's not a-
Albert whips his head around, and a piece of drool flings through the air, and lands square across Penelope's nose. She freezes for a second, in total shock and horror, before squealing a petrified and disgusted squeal, fanning her hands to her face.
Claudia, Andorra's second wife, having yet to encounter Rey Mystero and so thankfully still alive, runs over to Penelope with a wet wipe and begins to wipe the drool off of her face hectically. Despite usually hating her step-mother Claudia, Penelope is all too keen to get the drool off of her face. Andorra meanwhile runs over to Albert, and starts shooing him away.
Lt. Andorra
Away doggy! AWAY! Shoo! SHOO!
Claudia
It's not a real dog Juan!
?
But he's just as well-behaved as one.
The group look up, to see walking through the pleasant mountain path, behind Prince Albert, struts Hell's Favourite Harlot herself, Priscilla Kelly. Draped in all black, except her red-rose crown, and her red lipstick smile that finds its way to all of the family members sat around the picnic. Lucas, especially, gulps as he finds the smile come his way.
Priscilla Kelly
Nice picnic! Was a real long walk here but, me and my doggy really enjoyed the exercise, it's a lot different than the way we usually burn calories at least! I brought some stuff of my own too! I hope that's okay?
Claudia
What!? Juan! What is she doing here!?
Andorra looks confused at his second wife Claudia.
Lt. Andorra
You told me to invite along my opponent! You said she seems like nice mother!
Claudia
Sasha Foote, Juan! I meant Sasha Foote!
A pause.
Lt. Andorra
Is this not Sasha Foote?
Priscilla Kelly
Oh Juan Carlos, I'm better baby. Before long, you'll be glad about the mix up, trust me! That goes for all of you!
As she says this, she notices Lucas is staring at her. She sends a wink his way, and watches as he quickly looks at his feet, red faced. Miranda, the youngest of the children from Andorra's first wife, continues to look at Prince Albert peculiarly.
Miranda
What's your dog called?
Priscilla Kelly
Prince Albert.
Miranda
Oh, that's a cute name. What does it mean?
Priscilla Kelly
It's a piercing for your cock.
Silence.
Miranda
What's a coc-
Claudia
JUAN!
Andorra looks over at his second wife, who's bulging eyes implore for him to do something.
Lt. Andorra
Yes, absolutely dear.
He strolls up to Priscilla, a hand behind her back.
Priscilla Kelly
What you got for me?
Andorra tries to look innocent.
Priscilla Kelly
You're not subtle.
Andorra gives in, whipping from behind his back... a cheeseboard.
Lt. Andorra
We have a seleccion of cheeses for you and your chicken piercing to engorge yourselves on.
Claudia
That's not what she meant Juan.
Lt. Andorra
Please, can I serve my guests?
Claudia gives in, heading back to the picnic. Juan Carlos and Priscilla follow two steps behind. Claudia squares up.
Lt. Andorra
You are literally walking towards the picnic, where other place can I go?
Claudia
Whatever.
She goes to stand randomly somewhere else. Juan Carlos reaches the hamper, where Penelope is ready to hand over the contents.
Lt. Andorra
Firstly, we have grapes to go with your cheeses.
Penelope hands him the grapes.
Lt. Andorra
Every time, before the wrestle, I am eating the grapes and what do we call them familia?
Family
(in unison) GRAPES!
Lt. Andorra
No, the special name for the grapes.
Family
UVAS!
Lt. Andorra
No this is just grapes in eSpanish.
The kids look blankly at him.
Lt. Andorra
Is Grapes of Wrath.
Priscilla takes a grape and eats it impossibly slowly, making full eye contact with Lucas as she does.
Lt. Andorra
We call them the Grapes of Wrath, because it is giving me the power of wrath. To be wrath...ful, on my opponents, when I wrestle, with them.
He offers Priscilla more grapes.
Priscilla Kelly
So now, you're giving me the power to be wrath...ful?
Juan Carlos looks from the grapes to Priscilla. Claudia rolls her eyes. Penelope winces. Prince Albert starts licking himself.
Lt. Andorra
Next is crackers.
Priscilla Kelly
You better not -
Penelope hands him crackers.
Priscilla Kelly
Don't you fucking go there.
Lt. Andorra
'Cos I crack your backs when I do the wrestle with you?
Priscilla Kelly
Oh.
Lt. Andorra
What is it?
Priscilla Kelly
Nothing.
Lt. Andorra
Okay…
Priscilla Kelly
I thought you were going somewhere else and -
Lt. Andorra
Where?
Priscilla Kelly
I mean I'm not saying -
Lt. Andorra
But it's okay?
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah. It's lame but okay.
Lt. Andorra
Fine.
He awkwardly offers her a cracker, she slaps them to the ground, he looks sad, Lucas looks turned on. Normality has resumed.
Lt. Andorra
Meat pie.
Penelope hands him a bowl of strawberries. The two of them argue in Spanish for a second before Juan Carlos rips the picnic basket out of her hands and sarcastically pulls out a meat pie.
Lt. Andorra
Meat pie, cos in the end, you're all -
Priscilla slaps it to the ground, stamping it into the turf before shoving Penelope out of the way and upending the picnic hamper onto Juan Carlos' head. Tripping him, she sends him rolling down the hill into a small hedge.
Claudia
Oh hell no!
Claudia comes running.
Claudia
We invite you into our circle, our family time, my kids -
Family
We're not your kids!
Enrique-Arturo
I am!
Family
Shut up!
Priscilla throws a strawberry at her, knocking her down. Lucas can't take it any more, with love in his eyes he leaps to his feet and cheers. Priscilla blows him a kiss and he swoons.
Priscilla Kelly
Later familia, word of advice from ya' auntie Priscilla: leave home, I did.
With that she grabs Prince Albert and finally leaves. Lucas kicks Claudia in the shins, down the hill Juan Carlos looks proud to see him son adopt his signature move.
Lucas
Urghhh you dumb step mum you scared her away.
He grabs his bag and starts stomping off.
Claudia
Lucas! Where are you going?
Lucas
To live alone, in the wild.
Claudia
No.
Lucas ignores her and disappears into the unknown. Fade to: after the family has gone, Priscilla and King Albert follow the same track Lucas took into the mountains…
The sun can't make its way through the thick branches, and so a rather intimidated Lucas winces as he steps further and further through what has become a scary venture through the dark brush of the Canadian Rockies. He lost his father a bit ago, rather easily tricking him to bolt off in a different direction than Lucas himself planned to go.
Lucas was home-free now… but he wasn't sure if that was for the best.
Who knew what was up in these woods. Bears? Lions? Paedophiles like Roderick Kross? Maybe he should turn on his heels and go back to his mother and father, head held low in shame.
And upon turning around, he came face to face with the growling and snarling leather doggy, Prince Albert.
Lucas
AAAAAAGGGHHH!!!
Priscilla Kelly
Go doggy! Fetch!
A stick is thrown over the head of Lucas, into the bushes in the distance. Albert eagerly yips, before bounding over towards it, disappearing into the brush. Lucas turns slowly, and there, walking towards him, a small smile on her face, is Priscilla Kelly. His heart skips a beat, as his cheeks turn pink.
Priscilla Kelly
You alright honey? You decide to follow Auntie Priscilla's advice?
Lucas
Umm- maybe? I'm sick of Claudia.
Priscilla Kelly
Is that step-mum?
Lucas
Yeah. She's not my real mum. My real mum was killed in the third most brutal act of vehicular-
Priscilla Kelly
Yeah yeah I know, kid. Here, take a seat.
Priscilla sits on the floor next to Lucas, urging him to join her. The pair look off in the distance, as Albert slobbers all the stick in his mouth. It's at this point that Lucas notices it isn't a stick at all, it's big, and rubber looking, and black, and looks a lot more like a-
Priscilla Kelly
You remind me of me. I have a step-mum too, and she fucking sucks. Didn't hold a candle to my actual mum, just like I'm sure Claudia doesn't hold a candle to yours. My mum was cool, she was really stylish, and badass, and powerful, and she got me into wrestling. Really pushed for me to do the things I wanted with my life… then the old cancer got her.
Lucas
I'm sorry.
Priscilla Kelly
Hey it's better than some masked Mexican midget plowing into her at 120. That wasn't supposed to sound cruel by the way. I'm saying your situation was worse. I got to say goodbye at least, you didn't.
Lucas nods slowly. He looks up at Priscilla, who catches his eye for a second, and he's smitten by her beauty.
Priscilla Kelly
And then yeah, these new mums come along, just think they own the place. They aren't cool, or stylish, or badass, or into wrestling. They suddenly try changing your lives to what fits them, as if they've always been there. And you see your dad change too. And suddenly you're expected to drop wrestling, to pursue some fancy schmancy lifestyle cos it's what they want. And it's like, HEY, you came into my life, I didn't come into yours! Don't tell me what I can do, what I'm gonna be, who I can and can't fuck! Y'know? Well I mean, you might not know, you're like, 11 right?
Lucas
I'm 14 in eighteen months!
Priscilla Kelly
Oh okay. Well then, you will soon. You're a good looking kid… you'll definitely get some puss you trust me.
Lucas
What's puss?
Priscilla Kelly
Eh you'll find out at some point, you're young there's plenty of time.
A beat of silence.
Lucas
But, yeah, what you said before, about step-mums, like, yeah, that's like, that's it. That's right.
Priscilla Kelly
You feel it too?
Lucas
Yeah! Claudia sucks! She's not lovely and cuddly like mum used to be! And- like- you know like, she spends more time with Enrique-Arturo than any of the rest of us. That little pie faced bitch! And dad, he used to be so passionate, and focussed, and um- and like um- y'know!
Priscilla nods.
Lucas
And ever since we lost mum, he's so scatterbrained! And dumb! And Claudia just adds to it! And I'm sick of it! He used to want to make Rey Mysterio pay for what he did to mum, but now all he does is cry about it! And Rey's still out there! Wrestling and everything! And dad just accepts it!
Priscilla nods again, understanding, as she reaches her hand up and strokes Lucas' hair. The feeling of Priscilla's hand on his head, even momentarily, fills Lucas with butterflies, and he goes silent.
Priscilla Kelly
You're so fiery Lucas, you deserve to be around fiery people, who can fan your flames, not extinguish them. I can see that's what your dad's doing, extinguishing your flames, and Claudia too. I can see how much they rile you up… they don't get you do they?
Lucas has tears in his eyes.
Lucas
No.
Priscilla Kelly
I know, because that's how I was. That's how my dad became, and how my step-mum was, and you know what I did? I left them. I cut them off. I joined people who let me be what I knew I could be, and it was the best decision I ever made.
Lucas gulps.
Priscilla Kelly
It may hurt to hear it Lucas, but I'm going to beat your dad in our match on Tuesday, and I'm going to advance through to the finals. Because your dad has become content and complacent with not being good enough, he's not living the life he wants to live, whilst I long ago made the decision to do so. Your dad surrounds himself with people like Claudia, and that little pie faced bitch baby half-sister of yours, who don't push him. And Lucas, if you stay around them, if you don't act now, you'll become just like him. I know you love your mother, but you'll become complacent with letting her become just a memory. Not fighting for her honour, against the people who tore her away from you. Everything that lovely and cuddly woman pushed for you to be, will disappear.
Priscilla puts Lucas' hand in hers, he looks up at her, wide and wet eyes looking into hers.
Priscilla Kelly
But you come with me Lucas, you don't let her replacement sink into the norm. You let the messages and morals of your true mother stick with you, to influence what you become. You don't let some new bitch stroll in and change everything around like suddenly you're hers now and there's nothing you can do about it. If I stayed with my step-mum, there's no way I'd be who I am today, doing the crazy and badass things, taking what I want when I want.
She peers deeper into Lucas' eyes.
Priscilla Kelly
I get you Lucas, I do. Let me help you become you… like your dad can't.
Lucas gazes into the eyes of Priscilla, and it kicks in. She's right. She does get him, more than his dad has ever since mum died.
Lucas
Yes, okay. Yeah!
Priscilla Kelly
You made the right choice Lucas, trust me. You're gonna become one hell of a kid.
She kisses Lucas on the forehead. His whole body swims with emotions, as Priscilla jumps to her feet giddily. She extends her hand towards Lucas, and he takes it, being pulled to his feet by her impressive strength.
Lucas
Woah, you're strong.
Priscilla Kelly
Course I am Lucas, I'm a wrestler. Only reason I let doggy wrestle for me, is cos I make my own rules. That's how we do it now.
Lucas smiles, as Priscilla starts to merrily skip along through the brush, Lucas giddily skipping with her, as Albert crawls along behind the pair. The camera cuts back to the ring to show a close up view of Lieutenant Andorra who looks beside himself, not having seen the second half of the tape until just now.
Lt. Andorra: (featuring a voice crack) LUUUUUUCAAAAAAAAS!
Lance Storm: Lieutenant Andorra will have a chance to get his hands on Priscilla Kelly in this semi-finals first-hour main event. Will Lucas be there? Find out after this commercial interruption.
The following exclusive preview of ‘Rage 25/8’ is brought to you by iHeartRadio.
Raging Dead
Hey there! Hi there! Ho there! Oh noooo. That was a terrible way to kick this off. But… uhh… hey, this is Raging Dead and you’re listening to Rage 25/8… right here… on iHeartRadio! Today’s episode will be a little shorter than usual. I’ve got a two big matches to prepare for. Today, I’m recording from the Ralston Arena in Omaha, Nebraska. Tonight’s adventure is a three way dance between myself, a relatively unknown guy named John Black, and my lifelong frenemy Johnny Legend. Then before sunrise… I’ll be flying out to Montreal, Quebec, Canada… for another three way dance between myself… Max Ironside… and Athena.
It was right now that I realized I am in two similar matches… two days in a row. If all goes according to plan… I will be undefeated this week. Then again, maybe I won’t. I have lost almost as much as I have won. That consistency could continue this week. What’s most important is how I handle losses, not so much that losses happen. What’s fun in this scenario is that the result of either match has no bearing on the other. What happens in Action Wrestling tonight… has no relevance for what happens tomorrow in AWF. I remember a time when I worked for two different promotions… and one of them had me featured heavily in their main event scene. The other had me teaming with someone who… wasn’t exactly… good.
The idea was that I would help mentor that guy and my presence would boost his value in the company. We were on the losing end of several tag team matches, and that made the boss in the other company take notice. He thought that my tag team losses in one were affecting my value in the other as a top star. I tried to explain that they were completely separate entities… different viewers… different situation entirely. He wouldn’t budge and threatened to release me from my contract if I did not leave the other promotion. I stood my ground and fought for what I believed in. Guess what happened.
I got released from my contract and was able to put my full attention into the other organization where I was part of a not-so-great tag team. My tag team partner went on to grow in ability and popularity… and within one year he was the World Heavyweight Champion, going on a lengthy run at the top that nobody could have predicted in their wildest dreams. The morale of that story is that you never know how things are going to turn out, but you always have to stay true to yourself. I believed in the work I was doing to help create a new star, and I didn’t feel it was right to limit the work I do outside of one organization.
That brings me right back to AWF. While I absolutely desire to be the top guy here… I am not above lending a hand and helping create stars in the process. Last week… I pushed Rockstar Spud to his limit and he almost… ALMOST… took me out of the tournament. Watch what happens next. He’ll come back and fight harder than before this week on PrimeTime to avenge that loss. Even in defeat… he comes out stronger. The same could happen for my opponents this week as well. Max Ironside has taken a great deal of time to prepare for this match. He’s studied tapes. He’s gone out of his way to try to understand what exactly I’m capable of. He’s doing everything right to get himself in a position to move on to the next round. But… what if… it’s not enough?
What if all the time… and all the studying… doesn’t fully prepare him for what’s coming his way? How will he handle potentially losing to one of the strangest and seasoned veterans in the sport today? Yes, I am calling myself strange. That’s not a bad thing at all. My brain is just wired… differently. Head trauma aside… I suffered a stroke a few years ago that I never… fully… recovered from. At times… I have cognitive problems and paroxysms of rage. See, Max isn’t the only one who has to overcome obstacles just to compete. While his challenges are physical… mine are mental. We’re an odd pairing… but that makes this match all the more interesting. I like this kid’s heart… his passion… his determination. But… will it be enough… to stop the Raging Dead?
The true wildcard in this match is Athena. We don’t really know where her head is at. As the Goddess of War… she sure is keeping her plan of attack a mystery. That makes her dangerous to my chances of moving on to the finals of the AWF World’s Championship Tournament. To try to help me understand Athena… I have invited a very special guest to join in the conversation. She is a second-generation superstar… a former multi-time World Champion… the mother of my child… the woman crazy enough to take my hand in marriage… Sara Pettis!
Sara Pettis
That’s one hell of an intro.
Raging Dead
You’re the second guest on Rage 25/8… and the first one I didn’t have to have call in!”
Sara Pettis
I’m sure they figured out that we live together. Oh, by the way, I wasn’t crazy enough to marry you. You were crazy enough to marry me.
Raging Dead
Ah, that’s right. YOU were the one who proposed to ME!
Sara Pettis
I’m just new fashioned like that. That brings me right to the wildcard in your three way dance… Athena!
Raging Dead
Nice segway, hun.
Sara Pettis
Thanks. So, Athena… the Goddess of War. She made it to this round by surviving… by outsmarting… Kendrick Kross. You can tell that she’s got a hell of a background in amateur wrestling… but there are so many levels to who she is. She’s fast. She’s flashy. She looks to take on any mountain, no matter the size. It’s Athena versus the world… just the way she likes it. Along with her is her Bad Omens tag team partner Jetta… who could play a factor in the result of your match tomorrow night. They don’t seem like the type to take advantage of outside interference… but the chance to fight for the AWF World’s Championship lies in the balance. You never know what you’re willing to do in that situation until it happens.
Raging Dead
I’m willing to do anything to be champion.
Sara Pettis
That’s who you are. You don’t think like everyone else. When you say ‘anything’ you could mean something silly like jump through a wormhole in time to go back to when Athena or Max broke into this business… and break their spirit back then… so they don’t even make it to AWF.
Raging Dead
Daaaaamn! It’s like you’re in my head!
Sara Pettis
That was a storyline you and Steph did with action figures last week.
Raging Dead
It worked with action figures! It could work in AWF!
Sara Pettis
No. No, it couldn’t. I need you to take this match seriously. Athena and Max are not to be taken lightly. You’ve come too far to only go this far.
Raging Dead
Hey! That’s my line!
Sara Pettis
I know what you’re going to say before you say it. Don’t let Max or Athena figure out what you’re going to do before you do it.
Raging Dead
Okay… so I’ll keep quiet about the wormhole gimmick…
Sara Pettis
Sure. Just… try to keep yourself together tomorrow… please. You have preached about wanting to be the top guy in AWF. Well… prove it! Go out there and take no prisoners. Go out there and show them WHY you’re the top guy. Go out there and BE the Raging Dead!
Raging Dead
Great pep talk, coach.
Sara Pettis
What I’m wondering though… is how would YOU deal with losing tomorrow?
Raging Dead
I don’t even want to think about that.
Sara Pettis
But you SHOULD think about that. There’s a chance that this match could end without your input. It’s a three way dance. Max could defeat Athena. Athena could defeat Max. Either one of them could defeat you. There are more possibilities than just… you winning… as you expect. If… IF… you are unable to secure victory tomorrow… what’s next? Will you continue your chase for the AWF World’s Championship or… will you… do something… else?
Raging Dead
Without being the top guy in AWF… I would go back to my roots and see who would benefit most from me being their tag team partner. I was thrilled to see Christina King was signed to compete in AWF. For our listeners who aren’t aware… Christina is my niece… and she was the only one to defeat me in 2019.”
Sara Pettis
More or less.
Raging Dead
Sure. Regardless of how it happened… my notebook shows that she holds a win over me. Now she has resurfaced in AWF and I couldn’t be happier. I wish her the best of luck in the Provincial Championship Tournament. If things don’t work out for our championship ambitions… I would love to get the band back together and see about MadClan running wild all over AWF.
Sara Pettis
Oh no. Not that nonsense again.
Raging Dead
Nonsense? NONSENSE?! MadClan is a family!
Sara Pettis
No. Christina is your family. I don’t think you ever truly fit in with that group.
Raging Dead
Maybe. Maybe not. Imagine how cool it would be to see MadClan take on Best Friends… or Bad Omens… or… anyone!
Sara Pettis
That’s all fine as a backup plan… but first and foremost… you’ve got to focus on this tournament.
Raging Dead
You’re right. One match down. Two to go. Tomorrow will be a lot of fun… for me. For Max and Athena… only pain awaits. They should abandon all hope because all their base are belong to---
[STOP]
PrimeTime’s broadcast returns to the last fifteen minutes of the first hour to Sasha Foote mid-entrance, entering the ring. When she does so, she and Andorra meet in the center of the ring, meeting at just about eye-to-eye, and they very respectfully shake hands.
Christian Cage: What a repulsive sight to return to. I mean, really?
A symphony of boos overpowers the theme music of Priscilla Kelly and her manservantbeastcreature Prince Albert.
Christian Cage: Perfect! This’ll be much better! Reeks of awesomeness!
Lance Storm: It’ll reek, alright.
Somehow, the reception grows even colder as the two of them actually appear on the stage. This week, Prince Albert walks backwards blindly while Priscilla Kelly has made a comfortable seat for herself on his shoulders in (we’ll say for a lack of more appropriate company-representative words) “power-bomb position.” Her sarcastic waves to the AWF faithful mimic the Queen’s and her nameplate flashes across the screen.
Mark Beverly: Being accompanied to the ring by Prince Albert, from Moon Creek, Georgia, weighing one hundred fourteen pounds: Priscilla! Kelly!
Albert reaches the end of the ramp when a screeching ‘LUCAS!’ can be heard. Priscilla Kelly’s eyes go wide as the cameraman quickly moves to show Lt. Andorra running off the ropes. As he strides across the ring, Kelly rolls down off of her masochist and moves out of the way without warning him of the chunky corkscrew moonsault that strikes him down from behind. Montreal is off their feet with that one.
Priscilla continues her retreat around the ring only to be caught by Sasha Foote who has slid out of the ring. A solid right jab stuns Kelly, who was already surprised by the slide out, and the next place she finds herself is inside the squared circle. Foote is quickly behind her and before Kelly can get to her feet, Andorra has re-entered the ring as well.
Ding!
Kelly darts a look at the referee Wilford Daniels at the sound of the bell, suddenly pantomiming and pointing toward Prince Albert. The referee crosses his arms ‘no.’
Christian Cage: Isn’t Prince Albert supposed to do the fighting?!
Wilford Daniels: You three are fighting and in the ring, this match starts.
He does the universal referee motion for ‘fight’ and like Mortal Kombat characters, the two fan favorites charge with a flurry of punches and blows to the crowd’s delight.
Lance Storm: I guess not today, Cage. Kelly’s got to prove she can get it done on her own tonight.
Christian Cage: How can she, when she’s getting abused like this?! She’s done nothing to justify this treatment!
During the frenzy, Kelly manages to push up under Andorra’s chin and shove him away to be able to grab Sasha by the hair and savagely bite her on her forehead. Priscilla is choking Sasha with the middle rope as Andorra begins to walk back, fist raised.
Priscilla Kelly: She said Claudia was a slut!
Andorra’s eyes widen and his movements stop.
Lt. Andorra: What?! Only my family can hate my second wife!
A surge of anger sends Andorra into the ropes, Priscilla’s ropechoke holding Sasha in place for what is next: 619! Foote’s body springs back and lands flat back. Andorra quickly follows up his spousal avenging with a flawless springboard 450 splash and stays as he lands.
Wilford Daniels: 1!.............
2!.............
3!
Mark Beverly: Sasha Foote has been eliminated!
Before anything can happen, Priscilla gets a running start to viciously punt Andorra in the head as he remains in the pinfall position. Boos rave as Kelly licks her lips at the hard camera, proud of her quick trickery.
Christian Cage: Let them boo, Priscilla. They’re not the ones trying to become World’s Champion.
She stomps at Andorra’s body, pushing it as it weakens under the bottom rope and to her right hand outside the ring, who has recovered to one knee with a furious snarl.
Prince Albert is up as the body drops and takes no time to begin pulling the smaller man to his feet. Andorra is still groggy once up, perfect for the few punches Albert decides he deserves. His plans change like that, as he stops the punches to drive Andorra backfirst into the metal ring post. As the Andorran’s body slowly slumps down to the floor, Prince Albert gets a tight grip beneath the chin before huffing out a nasty wad of spit right onto the man’s mask.
Priscilla laughs from inside the ring as Albert taunts the crowd with rubbing his nipples provocatively while staring at his work. An empty cup from the del Bosque section hits Albert’s right shoulder, and he sends a lugee in that direction as far as he can send it. Like an owl, his head turns to look at Priscilla and there begins a slobber. Andorra is to his knees now and lands two blows to the gut. They’re essentially ignored by Prince Albert who simply grabs Andorra by the throat with both hands and pulls up over his head.
Albert begins parading Andorra around the exterior of the ring before Andorra smacks him.
Christian Cage: THE MIST?! What the hell?!
As if it just suddenly appeared, Andorra has spat back in the face of Albert, in the form of the mist. The luchador is let free immediately as screams from Prince Albert draw cheers from the crowd. The hype grows when Andorra drives the bald man’s head into the ringpost. On one knee and holding onto the apron as best he can to have some semblance of ringside presence, the Prince doesn’t notice Andorra’s set up and execution: the ring-post assisted 619! People of the Bell Centre are ecstatic and taken aback by the shift in momentum all at the same time.
Lance Storm: No matter what you may be able to say about his mental stability, Lieutenant Andorra is surprisingly one of AWF’s most athletically inclined.
A baseball slide to the side of Andorra’s head from Priscilla, sending him back down to the mat, brings the mood back down. She pulls him up by the mask and sends his face into the apron mat, then the top of the barricade, before rolling him under the bottom rope. He’s to his feet by the time she’s in the ring and suddenly surprises her with two quick dropkicks. On her second recovery, she attempts a big boot but Andorra rolls out of it to return with a frankensteiner - and the roll up.
Wilford Daniels: 1!...........
2!.............
KICKOUT
Kelly rolls toward the ropes on the kickout and Andorra soon chases after her. As if he had been goaded in, she sidesteps at just the right time to get his legs hung up on the ropes. She grabs onto the back of his head as his legs drape over the middle rope - elevated neckbreaker! Quick leg hook.
Wilford Daniels: 1!.......
2!..........
KICKOUT
Andorra keeps down with a grip of the back of his head, but Priscilla is outside the ring at the announcer’s desk in seconds. She steals Lance Storm’s water --
Christian Cage: HA! Loser!
-- and uncaps it on her walk over to Prince Albert, who lays on the ground stirring and moaning in pain. The water on his face rattles him, but she leaves him to his devices after putting the water bottle in his hand, getting back to her opponent.
Who is up! Hurricanrana! The lieutenant gets the crowd into as Priscilla Kelly is draped over the middle rope, and it looks like the perfect set-up! Third time’s the charm and he’s finally off!
A bicycle kick knocking a tooth out of Andorra’s mouth and flying into the crowd stops all the fun. Face soaked from the improvised eyewash and red from irritation and fury, he isn’t satisfied and returns to the double-handed chokeslam grip, pulling the smaller man over his head before forcing him back down ten feet in the sitout.
Lance Storm: Derailer. No getting up after a two-piece like that.
Priscilla Kelly rolls over nonchalantly into the leg hook after the display of strength.
Wilford Daniels: 1!........
2!.........
3!
DING DING DING!
Kelly signals for Prince Albert to pick her up and as always, he follows her orders. He places her on the nearest turnbuckle and she poses arrogantly and obnoxiously.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, advancing to the first round at AWF Gold Rush: Priscilla! Kelly!
A trust fall and Prince Albert is there to catch here. A kiss blown by the winning lady to the camera initiates the cross.
Priscilla Kelly d. Sasha Foote and Lieutenant Andorra in 8:49
The camera cuts to another vignette, a now familiar woman commanding our attention again.
Christina King
I feel pride in what I have accomplished in my short career. I feel pride in what my uncle, The Raging Dead, has accomplished in his career. So much pride, and yet a part of me feels yet unaccomplished. I need something, one great victory to cement myself in AWF. I need the Provincial Championship. Like a junkie needs drugs or a pervert needs sex, I need gold around my waist.
An empty casino is our setting for the evening. We find Christina King among the slot machines dressed in a blue suit with a black tie. In her hands are casino chips. It would seem that playing with the chips is a bit of a nervous tick for her. Although currently empty we can tell that the casino was recently full of people and is yet to be cleaned. Trash litters the floors, there is smoke in the air, and empty drinks litter the nearby bar. Christina pauses at a slot machine and places her chips upon the top of said machine.
Christina King
What is pride without a trophy to show for it? For so long I’ve struggled to be something, to become something special. Here I stand, with a very real chance to take a championship at the end of this tournament, and yet something feels wrong. Something feels off. Perhaps it’s because I only recently returned from injury. Perhaps it’s because I no longer hold my world championship. I could rattle off reason after reason but there’s only one solution to every doubt I could have. Winning.
I’ve no doubt that Laci is going to do everything she can to beat me. It’s a little bit exhilarating, you know? There’s something about needing to win but facing the chance you might lose, it really gets your blood pumping. The fear of losing itself is a great motivator. To say I’m scared however, that’s not exactly true. This isn’t fear, this is something else. This is cusiourity. I need to see what Laci can do.
I need Laci to challenge me. I need to feel the sweat upon my body as I struggle to take a victory. I need to feel like I earned this victory. And if Laci cannot give me what I need I will hurt her. I will make sure she feels pain in every inch of her body. I need something, so please give it to me, Laci. I need you to challenge me. A victory isn’t a real victory unless you work for it, I’m sure you know this.
This doesn’t mean I plan on losing. However. Either way I know I can win…. But….
Christina pauses. She reaches into her pocket and produces her butterfly knife. Christina looks at the knife for a few moments before once again speaking to us, the fans.
Christina King
This knife was given to me by a close friend of mine when I was a child, Laci. I was a small girl in a world full of sharks and this knife saved my life multiple times. While I was out on the streets of Ohio every day was a battle for survival. Maybe you can understand better if I tell you my truth in this way. This is the kind of battle I need, a battle for true survival. I need to prove to the world that I have true strength. On May 12th I want a true battle between two warriors. If you can't give me this I want you to understand that I will do everything in my power to make you suffer. I will shed blood and I will break your face with a kick strong enough to take down a giant.
So come at me, Laci. I welcome your challenge… Come at me so that I can… LET MADNESS REIGN!
Again we slowly fade to black, this time to a break.
The following advertisement has been brought to you in part by Priscilla Kelly:
A shot of the commentary team is what we return to.
Lance Storm: Last week, during the Max Ironside-Barron Boneius affair, we had an unexpected intermission.
A replay screen flashes across and they re-explain the events to the video slideshow: Savage’s taking umbrage with Goode’s presence at the arena, Goode’s attempted interference, Tony’s saving Rayna including sending Phil over into the crowd and the two running out of the view. The view returns to the Canadian wrestling legends.
Christian Cage: This is an old school wrestling type situation, Storm, and these two are gonna get the chance to settle it, in the next qualifying match.
Lance Storm: First, a look at what they had to say.
The PrimeTime logo flashes to the scenario.
Tony Savage
Philip, Philip, Philip…
He didn’t bother with a film crew, going with this whole stripped down vibe this week. Besides, the things you can do with smart phone film-wise are quite quality these days. They make movies on Apples now for theaters; getting to the point film crews are going to be obsolete.
We’re still back at the hotel room. No props, no special guest star that wouldn’t normally appear in a wrestling skit, let alone, a start up company. No Tim Horton’s jokes…
Just Tony with his tie undone around his collar, leaning back with his fingers on his chin., smirking.
Tony Savage
Considering the night you had last Prime, it shouldn’t have surprised me you tried to steal my sunshine.
Last week, I came out and stole the show. Facts. Lab tested and approved. What was supposed to be all about the start of a new World Title reign ended up fighting for equal air time with one of the best in the game showing up to work. Just showing up; not a wristlock and besides a little scuffle, barely ad to wrinkle the threads to make the mark.
Then you showed up to bum a ride…
Part of me had to respect that, though. I mean, too often, people don’t do enough to go out of their way to get noticed in this sport. Just content to ride thing out until hopefully, somebody notices and throws them a bone. Lot of those people went into that tourney thinking they were going to score some instant clout, not thinking about that long game. You jumped in and said you were ready to play the game with varsity.
Problem was, in the tourney, the tryouts, didn’t do so hot, did ya?! *scrunches his face*
Now, management has given you another shot. Little reward for swagger jacking. Persistence, folks. For good or bad, you’ll get rewarded for it somehow.
Now, a lot of people would treat this new proto-belt, the Provincial as some mid-card consolidation prize for not being in the big dance. Kinda like N.I.T. tourney compared to March Madness. Thing is, seeing as how we’re at the birthing phase of a new federation, we don’t know who or what is what yet. Who’s the best champion, who’s the face, who’s the backbone.
For all we know, way history’s gone down in the past, it was whoever held a “midcard” belt that made it or par, sometimes better, than the supposed grand prize. This new belt to me, isn’t just some prize. Another plaque to hang on the way or talking point on a roster bio. This is a chance to steer the ship in a direction.
First to set a tone. A standard. First to become the wrestler to make that leather and metal a trophy to strive for. A seed to create something.
Pardon my lateness to this party, but it’s due to me spending all my time doing one night stands in gyms instead of exercising mouth and twitter muscles. That belt, and the possibilities that come with it, are the top priority. That means sweating my ass off, grinding until the knives a re sharp enough to a vein every time.
The Provincial strap is #1 priority. That means no clubbing, no sit-com episodes, no clowning…
Not until seventh day fore rest, I got something for Mr. Jock Rider.
That means the last few weeks of life have been a routine of early morning and afternoon workouts, appointments, and life racking up rewards points at places like these. Away from family, other business, hobbies…
(looking sad) Haven’t touched my fishing pole in months…
And I’ll be damned if sweaty mornings and time away teaching my kid how to pull in trout is NOT going to amount to that belt around my waist.
So, for most of this week, it’s been quietly working, because on Tuesday…
Fight Night…
I quiet more mouths bumping about how I’m not worth the hype. This first part of the weekly lesson is showing the not so glamorous aspects of this life. Most of the time, it’s hours of staring at drab walls for chances at being blinded by moments of life. Right now, I’m tired…
Just wanted to give a peek of life behind the entrance curtain. Part 2…
I give a lesson on how to crap of Goode Vibes.
He throws his tie off, reaches for the phone…
Cut to black on the feed.
A simplest of approaches. Sometimes the best way to start things. We’re brought right into the response. After walking down the long, dark corridors of the Bell Centre (in Montreal, Quebec, Canada) several AWF superstars, stroll into the massive locker room to get ready for the night’s programming (The Second Episode of Tuesday Night Primetime). Amongst the sea of talented athletes and camera-guys is the man known as, “The First” Phil Goode. He righteously takes his seat in the back of the large space, away from his fellow competitors and begins to lace his boots. Meanwhile, one cameraman anxiously follows him and proceeds to ask about his unexpected appearance on the first show in AWF history. Goode takes a sharp, deep sigh and dives into the question, head on. The camera starts to record…
Phil Goode
(Deliberately) I think at some point everyone wants to be a hero, a patriot, and/or a role model. It really just depends on how long it takes for life to reveal the true, sick nature of humanity, I guess.
The camera is pointed directly into Goode’s eyes.
Phil Goode
It’s not too long before those dreams are crushed under the weight of reality and the REAL SAVAGERY appears. We are barbaric, we are hostile, and we ARE violent!
The man behind the camera jerks back slightly.
Phil Goode
Day in and day out, we pay our hard-earned money to watch someone else get their ass kicked… (soft but stern) and no matter what it is, we call it a sport. From the field to the squared circle, I don’t see much of a difference to be honest. The crowds are much smaller than what I’m used but the affinity for pain and punishment is still the same, and it resides in the beaming eye of every fan. (Visibly conflicted) These people yearn for the chance to witness brutality and they sit there in the stands foaming at the mouth for a drop of blood.
Goode looks around the locker room and pauses.
Phil Goode
I mean … who am I to tell them no?
After waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question, he continues.
Phil Goode
I delivered on the field and I can certainly deliver in the ring. And now that I’m processing it a bit more, it would actually be a disservice to myself if I didn’t inflict damage upon my opponents … and you want to know why?
Again, waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question.
Phil Goode
That’s because innately, they have to harm me when we're out there. (An obvious sarcasm emits) I’m not a bad guy, quite frankly, I think I’m a Goode guy.
Goode starts to subtly sway his muscular arms around and contort in his chair boastfully.
Phil Goode
I have Goode self-control, (pause) I have a Goode morals, (longer pause) and most importantly, (pausing to “think” for the right words) I just understand what it takes to be Goode in this business.
Slightly changing the tempo of his speech, Goode then says.
Phil Goode
(Spitefully) After what transpired last week on Primetime, I realized a couple things. One, we still have some people out there that run around with capes and American flags draped around their Georgia Peach. Two, not only does the crowd love seeing a man get kicked while he’s down, but they also LOVE a classic knight tale. You know, the one where he swoops in on his trusty steed and saves the day just in the nick of time.
Well, even if you don’t, I can assure you on one other thing; All of your eyes have been deceived. What you saw last week was not a dastardly plan to sabotage the AWF WORLD’S CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT for those two contenders.
Trying to convince the audience, the locker room, and himself.
Phil Goode
(Disingenuously) It was no more than an attempt to encourage those who had the opportunity to perform on the first Primetime broadcast ever.
Goode picks up a more serious tone.
Phil Goode
As you all know by now,
Reaching for sympathy.
Phil Goode
[iI’ve been battling with this knee injury and… it’s really an extreme challenge for someone like me. With that being said, I believe the audience and the superstars deserve some further clarification on my sudden arrival during that match between Ironside and Boneius. Let me explain.
Goode looks down at the floor with his hands covering his mouth. He seems to be reliving the moment in his head, but he finds a way to continue.
Phil Goode
I just couldn’t help it… I had to free myself from the cabin fever. I threw all caution to the wind and hopped on a red eye from my home in Iowa state. After I landed in Calgary International Airport, I grabbed a small hotel room not too far from the Scotiabank Saddledome.
I sat there for hours contemplating my next move, and I finally decided to hobble my way to the arena. Once I was got there, I could feel the energy of the sold-out crowd from outside the building and everything became apparent to me. I was meant to be there, and nothing could stop me from getting onto that stage.
(Whining like a captured villain from the beloved Saturday morning cartoons) Expect… for this one man. At first, I thought this guy was a… Goode addition to the roster.
Going along with this lie, Goode follows by saying.
Phil Goode
In fact, I thought this guy was someone I could gravitate towards and possibly build a network with.
Not even believing himself, Goode begins to plead with the viewers
Phil Goode
Hear me out for second. This is a superstar who had to deal with his own injuries and spend time away from the ring. I figured he would be someone who could understand my current situation and show some respect for my willingness to follow (and then) go against the doctor’s orders and risk my career. But I was definitely mistaken.
A darker tone rises from his sternum.
Phil Goode
You don’t (K)ross me.
Another deliberate use of his words, Goode slowly gets closer to the camera.
Phil Goode
You can’t make an example out of me because I am the example. I am the ultimate AWF superstar, each of you know that.
Pointing at the AWF superstars still in the locker room. Goode is now standing tall.
Phil Goode
When you can do as you please folks, you’re automatically a threat. When you don’t have to conform and answer to the big dawgs, those higher-ranking officials, the feeble and weak-minded stars envy you.
Switching his concern.
Phil Goode
(Chuckling at first) Tony, I have a feeling you’re a sweet guy, and you want “what’s best” for the company and yourself, but I am the reminder of all of your previous failures, and they are NOT erased once you put that little army costume on and feel the big “S” on your chest.
You might be used to the top of the mountain at this point in your career and that’s fine, but you got something else coming your way. Your own fears and insecurities were on full display last week and I intend on making your life in AWF a living hell.
Out of that ENTIRE speech, you know what I got from it? You wanna hear what I pulled from that little fight anthem?
Walking towards the exit of the locker room with his back to the camera.
Phil Goode
(Intentionally calling Savage the wrong name) My ole buddy Antonio, since we want to use our government names, this last week you only proved to me and the rest of the AWF universe that…
Goode tosses his hands up in the air.
Phil Goode
You’re just another TONY. (Pause) And every TONY fades to black.
Slowly and gently gliding his hands around his waist as the door shuts behind him. Cut to the arena.
Christian Cage: Fight night, Storm!
A loud pop is heard as soon as the man’s titlecard flashes across the titantron. The crowd has become fast fans of Tony Savage through just his two vignettes and calvarious appearance the week before. He nods his head in acknowledgement of the crowd and humbly raises his arm as he wastes little time making his way down toward the ring.
Mark Beverly: The following qualifying match for the AWF Provincial Championship tournament is set for one fall. Introducing first, from Atlanta, Georgia, weighing ---
Mark Beverly halts his ring announcement when Tony Savage begins rolling down the entrance ramp. The arena fills with boos it all sets in, Phil Goode standing where Savage last was on his feet, Tony having rolled to the ringside area.
Lance Storm: Phil Goode interrupting Tony Savage’s entrance with this assault.
Phil Goode’s eyes widen with a type of craze as the fuming former tight-end begins to stalk toward the man he had just cheapshotted. As Savage gets to all fours, Goode is pulling him to his feet - Arn Anderson style spinebuster twisting around onto the metal of the entrance ramp. Tony’s ankles are quickly under the arms of Phil and the prone man’s body gets dragged closer toward the ring.
Christian Cage: This guy’s a genius! Take ‘em out before they even have a shot. What’s he got planned next? Slingshot!
Savage’s body drops slowly to the side after his face smacks into the ring apron. Phil Goode’s attack is seemingly unfinished, as he pulls Tony Savage back up before forcing him back first into the steel steps. From then, Goode seems pleased with his work and snatches the microphone from the ring announcer still in the ring. Mark Beverly scurries away before being apart of any other impulses. Center-ring, he looks and walks toward the hard camera.
Phil Goode
That’s game, right there!
A satisfied smirk creeps smugly across his face.
Phil Goode
Ref, raise my hand, ‘cause no way he’s getting up from that. It’s a forfeit.
Referee Sandra Yandel is instead outside, checking in Tony Savage who stirs sitting against the steel steps. An unsettling feedback from the microphone being dropped in the ring can be heard as Phil Goode moves over, leaning over the ropes and yelling at the referee.
Phil Goode: He’s done! I said he’s done!
Savage begins to pull himself up with the steps with Sandra Yandel continuing to inquire about his condition. He nods to her questions before sliding under the bottom ring rope and pulling himself up with the turnbuckle closest. Phil Goode watches this happen with a look of anger, backing up from the man defying his expectations until he’s back in the center of the ring, glaring intensely at Savage who has pulled himself up.
Tony Savage: Ring the damn bell.
His tone is interestingly calm and he sends a large wad of spit across the ring, it hitting on Phil’s left boot.
Ding!
Phil Goode charges Tony in the corner, but Savage moves out of the way just in time. Goode’s body bounces back quickly, but Savage is there to meet it, forcing him around - double-arm DDT delivered with haste. The force pops Goode up and leaves him on his back.
Sandra Yandel: 1!......
2!.........
KICKOUT
Tony is slow to do much else from then, the attacking having done a quick number on his lower back.
Lance Storm: You can see the lower back welting and becoming black-and-blue as we watch. He’s gonna want to end this one fast.
He clutches at his back as he swings to one knee, and rebounds off the ropes to return with a low clothesline. The maneuver seems to stretch his back the wrong way, and leaves him unable to capitalize on a pinfall before Phil Goode begins stirring. Both men are to their feet at the same time, but Savage’s gutkick lands before anything else. A side elbow strike to the temple staggers Goode backwards into the ropes and he comes back to be met with another gutkick, before a European uppercut rebounds him again - but Tony Savage gets a rush and clotheslines him over the top rope.
Lance Storm: Goode stuck a landing on the apron.
Christian Cage: Christian Cage: Fair to say he’s a real - GOODE - athlete, huh, Storm?! Ha! HAHA! Holy SHIT I am hilarious!
Savage rushes again, but Goode ducks in between the top and middle ropes to shoulder block. It’s telegraphed, to the crowd’s delight, as Savage grabs a hold of the top rope to assist in his quick leapfrog-into-legdrop down on the back of Phil’s neck. Goode’s body falls into the ring folded up against the ropes, and it takes everything in Savage to roll his opponent into a good pinning predicament. He has to take time to breath and stretch his torso before hooking the leg.
Sandra Yandel: 1!..........
2!..................
KICKOUT
Savage’s get up is as quick as he can manage, and his stomps on his opponent land more aggressively with each boot. He begins to pull the bigger man up, but fists from both sides land in the weakened abdomen. A savage sort of straight headbutt to the gut keels Tony over and Phil gets to his feet. With a dangerously fast motion, Savage straightens out and sends his head flying into Phil’s, the man careening back to the ropes wildly and Tony looking groggy himself.
Christian Cage: That’s what frustration does, he’s hurt himself!
Once recovered enough, Tony is off the ropes opposite and is charging back.
Christian Cage: SPEAR! Phil coming out of nowhere with that football form tackle! That wasn’t just goode, it was GREAT!
Lance Storm: You’re really pleased with yourself, aren’t you?
Sandra Yandel: 1!.........
2!...............
3!---KICKOUT
Phil Goode is still reeling from the headbutt as he gets to his feet. Tony Savage is stirring before he gets pulled up by hair. He tries to throw a right jab, but Phil moves his body away, leading perfectly into Savage’s left jab. Goode quickly stops the endeavor with a knee to the gut, then a club to the welt growing on Tony’s back. Savage pops a right hand in the face in retaliation, a second one staggering the big man. Goode’s left hand reaches into Tony’s eyes, raking them and causing him to turn away in pain. The trunks are quickly grabbed by the waist to pull the injured lower back right into The First’s elbow strike, then a full nelson is snatched - hasty dragon suplex! He keeps a bridged pin after the finisher!
Sandra Yandel: 1!..........
2!..........
3!
DING DING DING!
As soon as the bell rings, the hold is let loose and Goode is hopping on both knees with his arms raised in the air, as if he had just won the Super Bowl. Tony Savage lays on his side, his hand grabbing at the hurt back as a trainer makes it to his side.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, advancing to the first round at AWF Gold Rush: The First! PHIL! GOOOOODE!
Christian Cage: Look at how smug that smirk is on Phil Goode’s face! I love it!
Now on his feet, he keeps his hands in the air as he continuously marches around the ring arrogantly, to the crowd’s dismay.
Phil Goode d. Tony Savage in 4:54
Another vignette transitions us away. The scene opens up on a dreary day, showing Max Ironside standing inside one of the most historical buildings in Montreal – the former Forum. He stands at the recreation of center ice, looking down at the dashed red and white line.
Max Ironside
The concept of reinvention isn't new to me – I suppose it's not really new to anyone who's been in this business longer than a few years. Sometimes things get old. They need to be refreshed. Sometimes they outlive their use and a newer, better thing comes along. Can't help but feel the parallels this week, especially when I'm standing here, in a building that's seen so much. If only these walls could talk… the stories I'm sure they could tell. Twenty-four Stanley Cup championships called this place home. That's just a little overwhelming. I'm sure the number of championships Raging Dead has held far surpasses that, but I'm still impressed.
He shuffles his feet, toeing at the line.
Max Ironside
I'll be the first to admit I feel a little like a traitor this week. I grew up a couple hours from Detroit and while this isn't Maple Leaf Gardens...
He makes a face like he wants to spit after having that name in his mouth.
Max Ironside
I'm a Red Wings fan. I didn't really get much of a choice there. Proximity and all that jazz. Not that I really watch all that much hockey these days. Don't really have time for it.
He forces a smile and then stares down at the floor again, sighing.
Max Ironside
This week I'm in the Main Event and while it's not my first time at the top of the card, in the spotlight match, it is the first time I've faced someone with as much wrestling history stored in his noggin as Raging Dead. All my time spent in the indies, never really got to rub shoulders with a veteran of his caliber. I mean, he's probably FORGOTTEN more moves over the years that I've ever even learned. So, it's not all that foreign for me to be nervous about this match, especially with the extra variable of the talented Athena in the mix. There's only so much you can do to prepare for a match like this.
It's quiet where he stands and he looks around for a moment. The last movie in the multiplex cinema that dominates most of the building is still running, won't be out for another half hour at least so he has the place to himself. Beyond the doors, rain is falling, pattering against the glass. Head bowed; he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his battered hoodie, gathering his thoughts.
Max Ironside
Goes without saying that I want to win, I want to finally wrap my hands around that prize and hold it tight. I want to know that all these years of busting ass and working for peanuts in rec centers and high school gyms was worth it because it brought me here. It put me on the legendary Bret Hart's radar and it allowed me this singular opportunity to compete in the big leagues. If I can beat a legend and a skilled female wrestler, I can move on to the final… one step closer to the gold and the glory I've been after for years. I could maybe face someone like Sasha Foote, someone worthy of respect.
Max turns and looks towards the statue of 'Rocket' Maurice Richard sitting on a bench, stick at ready, waiting to jump into action. The eagerness on The Rocket's face matches Max's own as he stands there with his hands still in his pockets.
Max Ironside
And I'm not saying I don't respect Gust. Not at all. He's good. He's also working for several other companies right now and there has to be a toll it's taking. Nothing against his body of work. I watched his match with Spud; I saw how easily he handled a guy that size – I'm not much bigger. I'm aware of all the things against me this week, from decades of experience to… well… yeah. The experience counts for everything. He knows what to do. He knows how to chase a championship and actually follow through on that and believe me, I've been studying really hard. I've watched thousands of hours of tape over the last few weeks. I've got the Nathan Gust/Raging Dead highlight reel running through my head on repeat. I've got the knowledge of his go-to moves, his weaknesses, all his tells and tics. I got all this hype to live up to now, like the diamond in the rough some wrestling reporter labelled me as. I'm feeling all sorts of pressure but I don't feel much like coal. I don't think squeezing me as hard as you can will produce a shiny, over-priced rock. That's a myth, really. Pressure doesn't make heroes or elevate people – not the way you wish it would. That would be too much like magic and that simply doesn't exist.
He takes his good hand from his pocket and rests it on the shoulder of Richard.
Max Ironside
This guy was in the right place at the right time. He existed at a time when the sport was far more dangerous, when a man had to be wily and cagey – he was. He was one of the most cerebral guys out there and while he's no Gretzky for the records racked up, he's still getting his dues. He's here, immortalized even though the rink that he defined himself on is long gone. I guess a part of me envies that more than I really care to admit. It's nice to be in the record books, to have that benchmark set that people want to break. But this right here? This is more my jam. Being celebrated within the walls that made you who you are, long after the cheers have faded away. Gust, like our friend The Rocket here, probably has that somewhere already. He's probably in four or five halls of fame in companies that nobody outside the Jim Cornettes of the business even remember. He probably has a giant room full of trophies and defunct belts and pictures of himself everywhere. Why not? I would if I had a career like his. I would want to remember every second of it, revel in all the glory that went down because it still leaves him with that shine. He's got clout simply because he's been doing this twice as long as anyone else. I mean, the longer you're around, the more glory. That's a given. This is the home of one of the original six. That's why there are so many Cups. That's why Gust is so damn celebrated. It's a trick of time. It's not a true testament of skill any more than me beating Boneius was.
He lifts that same hand up and rubs it over his mouth as though he wants to wipe away the bitterness in his tone.
Max Ironside
Listen, I know I'm not the odd-on favorite. I know there's nobody out there calling for me to be the winner of this whole shebang and I'm reminded about all the other times I've had doors slammed in my face. All the other times people have laughed at me, called me a fool for wanting to chase a dream in pro wrestling that even someone completely able-bodied can wash out of. I don't want the story to end with me pushing and pushing, forever trying to make it uphill with the boulder of disability and skepticism only for it to to roll back and crush me in the end. I want to prove that I can do this. That heart and passion and determination and HARD WORK can topple a legacy when it comes right down to it. When the old bones have served their use, they can be repurposed. They can be revamped into something better...
He starts to walk away from center ice and The Rocket's statue towards the doors and the rain outside that awaits. Pausing, he looks back over his shoulder.
Max Ironside
I'm not here to be anybody's victim. I'm not here to be a punchline. I'm not here to fill a quota or to catch the pity card. No, hell no. I'm here to win, Gust. If I have to do that by tearing you apart, by proving that your legacy and your last hurrah is just another grab to keep from slipping into irrelevancy… so be it. I'll do what it takes, WHATEVER it takes.
Without another word, he turns and pulls his hood up to cover his head, pushing out into the rain with his shoulders hunched, looking determined and resolute. Looking, really, like a future champion.
Priscilla Kelly has taken over our sponsoring division for the last two breaks by holding the production crew hostage:
They left.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is the Redemption Royale where the winner will be granted a round one bye in the AWF Provincial Championship tournament.
His music blaring through the speakers, Big Homunculus heads to the ring, but something is different. He's walking on his own two feet, looking clean shaven, wearing a suit several sizes too small and smiling at something he's never heard before; the cheers of the crowd.
Mark Beverly: Introducing first, a reject from the pygmy tribes of unexplored Central Africa weighing two hundred twenty pounds: THE! Big! HOMUNNNNNCULUS!
He still has his booster step in one hand and uses it to get onto the ring apron, before lying his huge body face down and rolling under the bottom rope. Once in the ring he stands tall (whether he realises it or not) and stands with arms open, reminiscent of Kid Dynamite Mike Tyson after scoring a devastating KO, lapping up the adulation.
Big Homunculus bathes in the thunderous cheers of the crowd for a solid twenty minutes. Signs are held aloft reading "Roderick Lost" and "Suckadick Kross". The cheering only subsides when Big H gestures for the crowd to quiet down with hand gestures. A mic falls from the sky into Big Homunculus' hand.PrimeTime’s broadcast returns to the last fifteen minutes of the first hour to Sasha Foote mid-entrance, entering the ring. When she does so, she and Andorra meet in the center of the ring, meeting at just about eye-to-eye, and they very respectfully shake hands.
Christian Cage: What a repulsive sight to return to. I mean, really?
A symphony of boos overpowers the theme music of Priscilla Kelly and her manservantbeastcreature Prince Albert.
Christian Cage: Perfect! This’ll be much better! Reeks of awesomeness!
Lance Storm: It’ll reek, alright.
Somehow, the reception grows even colder as the two of them actually appear on the stage. This week, Prince Albert walks backwards blindly while Priscilla Kelly has made a comfortable seat for herself on his shoulders in (we’ll say for a lack of more appropriate company-representative words) “power-bomb position.” Her sarcastic waves to the AWF faithful mimic the Queen’s and her nameplate flashes across the screen.
Mark Beverly: Being accompanied to the ring by Prince Albert, from Moon Creek, Georgia, weighing one hundred fourteen pounds: Priscilla! Kelly!
Albert reaches the end of the ramp when a screeching ‘LUCAS!’ can be heard. Priscilla Kelly’s eyes go wide as the cameraman quickly moves to show Lt. Andorra running off the ropes. As he strides across the ring, Kelly rolls down off of her masochist and moves out of the way without warning him of the chunky corkscrew moonsault that strikes him down from behind. Montreal is off their feet with that one.
Priscilla continues her retreat around the ring only to be caught by Sasha Foote who has slid out of the ring. A solid right jab stuns Kelly, who was already surprised by the slide out, and the next place she finds herself is inside the squared circle. Foote is quickly behind her and before Kelly can get to her feet, Andorra has re-entered the ring as well.
Ding!
Kelly darts a look at the referee Wilford Daniels at the sound of the bell, suddenly pantomiming and pointing toward Prince Albert. The referee crosses his arms ‘no.’
Christian Cage: Isn’t Prince Albert supposed to do the fighting?!
Wilford Daniels: You three are fighting and in the ring, this match starts.
He does the universal referee motion for ‘fight’ and like Mortal Kombat characters, the two fan favorites charge with a flurry of punches and blows to the crowd’s delight.
Lance Storm: I guess not today, Cage. Kelly’s got to prove she can get it done on her own tonight.
Christian Cage: How can she, when she’s getting abused like this?! She’s done nothing to justify this treatment!
During the frenzy, Kelly manages to push up under Andorra’s chin and shove him away to be able to grab Sasha by the hair and savagely bite her on her forehead. Priscilla is choking Sasha with the middle rope as Andorra begins to walk back, fist raised.
Priscilla Kelly: She said Claudia was a slut!
Andorra’s eyes widen and his movements stop.
Lt. Andorra: What?! Only my family can hate my second wife!
A surge of anger sends Andorra into the ropes, Priscilla’s ropechoke holding Sasha in place for what is next: 619! Foote’s body springs back and lands flat back. Andorra quickly follows up his spousal avenging with a flawless springboard 450 splash and stays as he lands.
Wilford Daniels: 1!.............
2!.............
3!
Mark Beverly: Sasha Foote has been eliminated!
Before anything can happen, Priscilla gets a running start to viciously punt Andorra in the head as he remains in the pinfall position. Boos rave as Kelly licks her lips at the hard camera, proud of her quick trickery.
Christian Cage: Let them boo, Priscilla. They’re not the ones trying to become World’s Champion.
She stomps at Andorra’s body, pushing it as it weakens under the bottom rope and to her right hand outside the ring, who has recovered to one knee with a furious snarl.
Prince Albert is up as the body drops and takes no time to begin pulling the smaller man to his feet. Andorra is still groggy once up, perfect for the few punches Albert decides he deserves. His plans change like that, as he stops the punches to drive Andorra backfirst into the metal ring post. As the Andorran’s body slowly slumps down to the floor, Prince Albert gets a tight grip beneath the chin before huffing out a nasty wad of spit right onto the man’s mask.
Priscilla laughs from inside the ring as Albert taunts the crowd with rubbing his nipples provocatively while staring at his work. An empty cup from the del Bosque section hits Albert’s right shoulder, and he sends a lugee in that direction as far as he can send it. Like an owl, his head turns to look at Priscilla and there begins a slobber. Andorra is to his knees now and lands two blows to the gut. They’re essentially ignored by Prince Albert who simply grabs Andorra by the throat with both hands and pulls up over his head.
Albert begins parading Andorra around the exterior of the ring before Andorra smacks him.
Christian Cage: THE MIST?! What the hell?!
As if it just suddenly appeared, Andorra has spat back in the face of Albert, in the form of the mist. The luchador is let free immediately as screams from Prince Albert draw cheers from the crowd. The hype grows when Andorra drives the bald man’s head into the ringpost. On one knee and holding onto the apron as best he can to have some semblance of ringside presence, the Prince doesn’t notice Andorra’s set up and execution: the ring-post assisted 619! People of the Bell Centre are ecstatic and taken aback by the shift in momentum all at the same time.
Lance Storm: No matter what you may be able to say about his mental stability, Lieutenant Andorra is surprisingly one of AWF’s most athletically inclined.
A baseball slide to the side of Andorra’s head from Priscilla, sending him back down to the mat, brings the mood back down. She pulls him up by the mask and sends his face into the apron mat, then the top of the barricade, before rolling him under the bottom rope. He’s to his feet by the time she’s in the ring and suddenly surprises her with two quick dropkicks. On her second recovery, she attempts a big boot but Andorra rolls out of it to return with a frankensteiner - and the roll up.
Wilford Daniels: 1!...........
2!.............
KICKOUT
Kelly rolls toward the ropes on the kickout and Andorra soon chases after her. As if he had been goaded in, she sidesteps at just the right time to get his legs hung up on the ropes. She grabs onto the back of his head as his legs drape over the middle rope - elevated neckbreaker! Quick leg hook.
Wilford Daniels: 1!.......
2!..........
KICKOUT
Andorra keeps down with a grip of the back of his head, but Priscilla is outside the ring at the announcer’s desk in seconds. She steals Lance Storm’s water --
Christian Cage: HA! Loser!
-- and uncaps it on her walk over to Prince Albert, who lays on the ground stirring and moaning in pain. The water on his face rattles him, but she leaves him to his devices after putting the water bottle in his hand, getting back to her opponent.
Who is up! Hurricanrana! The lieutenant gets the crowd into as Priscilla Kelly is draped over the middle rope, and it looks like the perfect set-up! Third time’s the charm and he’s finally off!
A bicycle kick knocking a tooth out of Andorra’s mouth and flying into the crowd stops all the fun. Face soaked from the improvised eyewash and red from irritation and fury, he isn’t satisfied and returns to the double-handed chokeslam grip, pulling the smaller man over his head before forcing him back down ten feet in the sitout.
Lance Storm: Derailer. No getting up after a two-piece like that.
Priscilla Kelly rolls over nonchalantly into the leg hook after the display of strength.
Wilford Daniels: 1!........
2!.........
3!
DING DING DING!
Kelly signals for Prince Albert to pick her up and as always, he follows her orders. He places her on the nearest turnbuckle and she poses arrogantly and obnoxiously.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, advancing to the first round at AWF Gold Rush: Priscilla! Kelly!
A trust fall and Prince Albert is there to catch here. A kiss blown by the winning lady to the camera initiates the cross.
Priscilla Kelly d. Sasha Foote and Lieutenant Andorra in 8:49
The camera cuts to another vignette, a now familiar woman commanding our attention again.
Christina King
I feel pride in what I have accomplished in my short career. I feel pride in what my uncle, The Raging Dead, has accomplished in his career. So much pride, and yet a part of me feels yet unaccomplished. I need something, one great victory to cement myself in AWF. I need the Provincial Championship. Like a junkie needs drugs or a pervert needs sex, I need gold around my waist.
An empty casino is our setting for the evening. We find Christina King among the slot machines dressed in a blue suit with a black tie. In her hands are casino chips. It would seem that playing with the chips is a bit of a nervous tick for her. Although currently empty we can tell that the casino was recently full of people and is yet to be cleaned. Trash litters the floors, there is smoke in the air, and empty drinks litter the nearby bar. Christina pauses at a slot machine and places her chips upon the top of said machine.
Christina King
What is pride without a trophy to show for it? For so long I’ve struggled to be something, to become something special. Here I stand, with a very real chance to take a championship at the end of this tournament, and yet something feels wrong. Something feels off. Perhaps it’s because I only recently returned from injury. Perhaps it’s because I no longer hold my world championship. I could rattle off reason after reason but there’s only one solution to every doubt I could have. Winning.
I’ve no doubt that Laci is going to do everything she can to beat me. It’s a little bit exhilarating, you know? There’s something about needing to win but facing the chance you might lose, it really gets your blood pumping. The fear of losing itself is a great motivator. To say I’m scared however, that’s not exactly true. This isn’t fear, this is something else. This is cusiourity. I need to see what Laci can do.
I need Laci to challenge me. I need to feel the sweat upon my body as I struggle to take a victory. I need to feel like I earned this victory. And if Laci cannot give me what I need I will hurt her. I will make sure she feels pain in every inch of her body. I need something, so please give it to me, Laci. I need you to challenge me. A victory isn’t a real victory unless you work for it, I’m sure you know this.
This doesn’t mean I plan on losing. However. Either way I know I can win…. But….
Christina pauses. She reaches into her pocket and produces her butterfly knife. Christina looks at the knife for a few moments before once again speaking to us, the fans.
Christina King
This knife was given to me by a close friend of mine when I was a child, Laci. I was a small girl in a world full of sharks and this knife saved my life multiple times. While I was out on the streets of Ohio every day was a battle for survival. Maybe you can understand better if I tell you my truth in this way. This is the kind of battle I need, a battle for true survival. I need to prove to the world that I have true strength. On May 12th I want a true battle between two warriors. If you can't give me this I want you to understand that I will do everything in my power to make you suffer. I will shed blood and I will break your face with a kick strong enough to take down a giant.
So come at me, Laci. I welcome your challenge… Come at me so that I can… LET MADNESS REIGN!
Again we slowly fade to black, this time to a break.
The following advertisement has been brought to you in part by Priscilla Kelly:
A shot of the commentary team is what we return to.
Lance Storm: Last week, during the Max Ironside-Barron Boneius affair, we had an unexpected intermission.
A replay screen flashes across and they re-explain the events to the video slideshow: Savage’s taking umbrage with Goode’s presence at the arena, Goode’s attempted interference, Tony’s saving Rayna including sending Phil over into the crowd and the two running out of the view. The view returns to the Canadian wrestling legends.
Christian Cage: This is an old school wrestling type situation, Storm, and these two are gonna get the chance to settle it, in the next qualifying match.
Lance Storm: First, a look at what they had to say.
The PrimeTime logo flashes to the scenario.
Tony Savage
Philip, Philip, Philip…
He didn’t bother with a film crew, going with this whole stripped down vibe this week. Besides, the things you can do with smart phone film-wise are quite quality these days. They make movies on Apples now for theaters; getting to the point film crews are going to be obsolete.
We’re still back at the hotel room. No props, no special guest star that wouldn’t normally appear in a wrestling skit, let alone, a start up company. No Tim Horton’s jokes…
Just Tony with his tie undone around his collar, leaning back with his fingers on his chin., smirking.
Tony Savage
Considering the night you had last Prime, it shouldn’t have surprised me you tried to steal my sunshine.
Last week, I came out and stole the show. Facts. Lab tested and approved. What was supposed to be all about the start of a new World Title reign ended up fighting for equal air time with one of the best in the game showing up to work. Just showing up; not a wristlock and besides a little scuffle, barely ad to wrinkle the threads to make the mark.
Then you showed up to bum a ride…
Part of me had to respect that, though. I mean, too often, people don’t do enough to go out of their way to get noticed in this sport. Just content to ride thing out until hopefully, somebody notices and throws them a bone. Lot of those people went into that tourney thinking they were going to score some instant clout, not thinking about that long game. You jumped in and said you were ready to play the game with varsity.
Problem was, in the tourney, the tryouts, didn’t do so hot, did ya?! *scrunches his face*
Now, management has given you another shot. Little reward for swagger jacking. Persistence, folks. For good or bad, you’ll get rewarded for it somehow.
Now, a lot of people would treat this new proto-belt, the Provincial as some mid-card consolidation prize for not being in the big dance. Kinda like N.I.T. tourney compared to March Madness. Thing is, seeing as how we’re at the birthing phase of a new federation, we don’t know who or what is what yet. Who’s the best champion, who’s the face, who’s the backbone.
For all we know, way history’s gone down in the past, it was whoever held a “midcard” belt that made it or par, sometimes better, than the supposed grand prize. This new belt to me, isn’t just some prize. Another plaque to hang on the way or talking point on a roster bio. This is a chance to steer the ship in a direction.
First to set a tone. A standard. First to become the wrestler to make that leather and metal a trophy to strive for. A seed to create something.
Pardon my lateness to this party, but it’s due to me spending all my time doing one night stands in gyms instead of exercising mouth and twitter muscles. That belt, and the possibilities that come with it, are the top priority. That means sweating my ass off, grinding until the knives a re sharp enough to a vein every time.
The Provincial strap is #1 priority. That means no clubbing, no sit-com episodes, no clowning…
Not until seventh day fore rest, I got something for Mr. Jock Rider.
That means the last few weeks of life have been a routine of early morning and afternoon workouts, appointments, and life racking up rewards points at places like these. Away from family, other business, hobbies…
(looking sad) Haven’t touched my fishing pole in months…
And I’ll be damned if sweaty mornings and time away teaching my kid how to pull in trout is NOT going to amount to that belt around my waist.
So, for most of this week, it’s been quietly working, because on Tuesday…
Fight Night…
I quiet more mouths bumping about how I’m not worth the hype. This first part of the weekly lesson is showing the not so glamorous aspects of this life. Most of the time, it’s hours of staring at drab walls for chances at being blinded by moments of life. Right now, I’m tired…
Just wanted to give a peek of life behind the entrance curtain. Part 2…
I give a lesson on how to crap of Goode Vibes.
He throws his tie off, reaches for the phone…
Cut to black on the feed.
A simplest of approaches. Sometimes the best way to start things. We’re brought right into the response. After walking down the long, dark corridors of the Bell Centre (in Montreal, Quebec, Canada) several AWF superstars, stroll into the massive locker room to get ready for the night’s programming (The Second Episode of Tuesday Night Primetime). Amongst the sea of talented athletes and camera-guys is the man known as, “The First” Phil Goode. He righteously takes his seat in the back of the large space, away from his fellow competitors and begins to lace his boots. Meanwhile, one cameraman anxiously follows him and proceeds to ask about his unexpected appearance on the first show in AWF history. Goode takes a sharp, deep sigh and dives into the question, head on. The camera starts to record…
Phil Goode
(Deliberately) I think at some point everyone wants to be a hero, a patriot, and/or a role model. It really just depends on how long it takes for life to reveal the true, sick nature of humanity, I guess.
The camera is pointed directly into Goode’s eyes.
Phil Goode
It’s not too long before those dreams are crushed under the weight of reality and the REAL SAVAGERY appears. We are barbaric, we are hostile, and we ARE violent!
The man behind the camera jerks back slightly.
Phil Goode
Day in and day out, we pay our hard-earned money to watch someone else get their ass kicked… (soft but stern) and no matter what it is, we call it a sport. From the field to the squared circle, I don’t see much of a difference to be honest. The crowds are much smaller than what I’m used but the affinity for pain and punishment is still the same, and it resides in the beaming eye of every fan. (Visibly conflicted) These people yearn for the chance to witness brutality and they sit there in the stands foaming at the mouth for a drop of blood.
Goode looks around the locker room and pauses.
Phil Goode
I mean … who am I to tell them no?
After waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question, he continues.
Phil Goode
I delivered on the field and I can certainly deliver in the ring. And now that I’m processing it a bit more, it would actually be a disservice to myself if I didn’t inflict damage upon my opponents … and you want to know why?
Again, waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question.
Phil Goode
That’s because innately, they have to harm me when we're out there. (An obvious sarcasm emits) I’m not a bad guy, quite frankly, I think I’m a Goode guy.
Goode starts to subtly sway his muscular arms around and contort in his chair boastfully.
Phil Goode
I have Goode self-control, (pause) I have a Goode morals, (longer pause) and most importantly, (pausing to “think” for the right words) I just understand what it takes to be Goode in this business.
Slightly changing the tempo of his speech, Goode then says.
Phil Goode
(Spitefully) After what transpired last week on Primetime, I realized a couple things. One, we still have some people out there that run around with capes and American flags draped around their Georgia Peach. Two, not only does the crowd love seeing a man get kicked while he’s down, but they also LOVE a classic knight tale. You know, the one where he swoops in on his trusty steed and saves the day just in the nick of time.
Well, even if you don’t, I can assure you on one other thing; All of your eyes have been deceived. What you saw last week was not a dastardly plan to sabotage the AWF WORLD’S CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT for those two contenders.
Trying to convince the audience, the locker room, and himself.
Phil Goode
(Disingenuously) It was no more than an attempt to encourage those who had the opportunity to perform on the first Primetime broadcast ever.
Goode picks up a more serious tone.
Phil Goode
As you all know by now,
Reaching for sympathy.
Phil Goode
[iI’ve been battling with this knee injury and… it’s really an extreme challenge for someone like me. With that being said, I believe the audience and the superstars deserve some further clarification on my sudden arrival during that match between Ironside and Boneius. Let me explain.
Goode looks down at the floor with his hands covering his mouth. He seems to be reliving the moment in his head, but he finds a way to continue.
Phil Goode
I just couldn’t help it… I had to free myself from the cabin fever. I threw all caution to the wind and hopped on a red eye from my home in Iowa state. After I landed in Calgary International Airport, I grabbed a small hotel room not too far from the Scotiabank Saddledome.
I sat there for hours contemplating my next move, and I finally decided to hobble my way to the arena. Once I was got there, I could feel the energy of the sold-out crowd from outside the building and everything became apparent to me. I was meant to be there, and nothing could stop me from getting onto that stage.
(Whining like a captured villain from the beloved Saturday morning cartoons) Expect… for this one man. At first, I thought this guy was a… Goode addition to the roster.
Going along with this lie, Goode follows by saying.
Phil Goode
In fact, I thought this guy was someone I could gravitate towards and possibly build a network with.
Not even believing himself, Goode begins to plead with the viewers
Phil Goode
Hear me out for second. This is a superstar who had to deal with his own injuries and spend time away from the ring. I figured he would be someone who could understand my current situation and show some respect for my willingness to follow (and then) go against the doctor’s orders and risk my career. But I was definitely mistaken.
A darker tone rises from his sternum.
Phil Goode
You don’t (K)ross me.
Another deliberate use of his words, Goode slowly gets closer to the camera.
Phil Goode
You can’t make an example out of me because I am the example. I am the ultimate AWF superstar, each of you know that.
Pointing at the AWF superstars still in the locker room. Goode is now standing tall.
Phil Goode
When you can do as you please folks, you’re automatically a threat. When you don’t have to conform and answer to the big dawgs, those higher-ranking officials, the feeble and weak-minded stars envy you.
Switching his concern.
Phil Goode
(Chuckling at first) Tony, I have a feeling you’re a sweet guy, and you want “what’s best” for the company and yourself, but I am the reminder of all of your previous failures, and they are NOT erased once you put that little army costume on and feel the big “S” on your chest.
You might be used to the top of the mountain at this point in your career and that’s fine, but you got something else coming your way. Your own fears and insecurities were on full display last week and I intend on making your life in AWF a living hell.
Out of that ENTIRE speech, you know what I got from it? You wanna hear what I pulled from that little fight anthem?
Walking towards the exit of the locker room with his back to the camera.
Phil Goode
(Intentionally calling Savage the wrong name) My ole buddy Antonio, since we want to use our government names, this last week you only proved to me and the rest of the AWF universe that…
Goode tosses his hands up in the air.
Phil Goode
You’re just another TONY. (Pause) And every TONY fades to black.
Slowly and gently gliding his hands around his waist as the door shuts behind him. Cut to the arena.
Christian Cage: Fight night, Storm!
A loud pop is heard as soon as the man’s titlecard flashes across the titantron. The crowd has become fast fans of Tony Savage through just his two vignettes and calvarious appearance the week before. He nods his head in acknowledgement of the crowd and humbly raises his arm as he wastes little time making his way down toward the ring.
Mark Beverly: The following qualifying match for the AWF Provincial Championship tournament is set for one fall. Introducing first, from Atlanta, Georgia, weighing ---
Mark Beverly halts his ring announcement when Tony Savage begins rolling down the entrance ramp. The arena fills with boos it all sets in, Phil Goode standing where Savage last was on his feet, Tony having rolled to the ringside area.
Lance Storm: Phil Goode interrupting Tony Savage’s entrance with this assault.
Phil Goode’s eyes widen with a type of craze as the fuming former tight-end begins to stalk toward the man he had just cheapshotted. As Savage gets to all fours, Goode is pulling him to his feet - Arn Anderson style spinebuster twisting around onto the metal of the entrance ramp. Tony’s ankles are quickly under the arms of Phil and the prone man’s body gets dragged closer toward the ring.
Christian Cage: This guy’s a genius! Take ‘em out before they even have a shot. What’s he got planned next? Slingshot!
Savage’s body drops slowly to the side after his face smacks into the ring apron. Phil Goode’s attack is seemingly unfinished, as he pulls Tony Savage back up before forcing him back first into the steel steps. From then, Goode seems pleased with his work and snatches the microphone from the ring announcer still in the ring. Mark Beverly scurries away before being apart of any other impulses. Center-ring, he looks and walks toward the hard camera.
Phil Goode
That’s game, right there!
A satisfied smirk creeps smugly across his face.
Phil Goode
Ref, raise my hand, ‘cause no way he’s getting up from that. It’s a forfeit.
Referee Sandra Yandel is instead outside, checking in Tony Savage who stirs sitting against the steel steps. An unsettling feedback from the microphone being dropped in the ring can be heard as Phil Goode moves over, leaning over the ropes and yelling at the referee.
Phil Goode: He’s done! I said he’s done!
Savage begins to pull himself up with the steps with Sandra Yandel continuing to inquire about his condition. He nods to her questions before sliding under the bottom ring rope and pulling himself up with the turnbuckle closest. Phil Goode watches this happen with a look of anger, backing up from the man defying his expectations until he’s back in the center of the ring, glaring intensely at Savage who has pulled himself up.
Tony Savage: Ring the damn bell.
His tone is interestingly calm and he sends a large wad of spit across the ring, it hitting on Phil’s left boot.
Ding!
Phil Goode charges Tony in the corner, but Savage moves out of the way just in time. Goode’s body bounces back quickly, but Savage is there to meet it, forcing him around - double-arm DDT delivered with haste. The force pops Goode up and leaves him on his back.
Sandra Yandel: 1!......
2!.........
KICKOUT
Tony is slow to do much else from then, the attacking having done a quick number on his lower back.
Lance Storm: You can see the lower back welting and becoming black-and-blue as we watch. He’s gonna want to end this one fast.
He clutches at his back as he swings to one knee, and rebounds off the ropes to return with a low clothesline. The maneuver seems to stretch his back the wrong way, and leaves him unable to capitalize on a pinfall before Phil Goode begins stirring. Both men are to their feet at the same time, but Savage’s gutkick lands before anything else. A side elbow strike to the temple staggers Goode backwards into the ropes and he comes back to be met with another gutkick, before a European uppercut rebounds him again - but Tony Savage gets a rush and clotheslines him over the top rope.
Lance Storm: Goode stuck a landing on the apron.
Christian Cage: Christian Cage: Fair to say he’s a real - GOODE - athlete, huh, Storm?! Ha! HAHA! Holy SHIT I am hilarious!
Savage rushes again, but Goode ducks in between the top and middle ropes to shoulder block. It’s telegraphed, to the crowd’s delight, as Savage grabs a hold of the top rope to assist in his quick leapfrog-into-legdrop down on the back of Phil’s neck. Goode’s body falls into the ring folded up against the ropes, and it takes everything in Savage to roll his opponent into a good pinning predicament. He has to take time to breath and stretch his torso before hooking the leg.
Sandra Yandel: 1!..........
2!..................
KICKOUT
Savage’s get up is as quick as he can manage, and his stomps on his opponent land more aggressively with each boot. He begins to pull the bigger man up, but fists from both sides land in the weakened abdomen. A savage sort of straight headbutt to the gut keels Tony over and Phil gets to his feet. With a dangerously fast motion, Savage straightens out and sends his head flying into Phil’s, the man careening back to the ropes wildly and Tony looking groggy himself.
Christian Cage: That’s what frustration does, he’s hurt himself!
Once recovered enough, Tony is off the ropes opposite and is charging back.
Christian Cage: SPEAR! Phil coming out of nowhere with that football form tackle! That wasn’t just goode, it was GREAT!
Lance Storm: You’re really pleased with yourself, aren’t you?
Sandra Yandel: 1!.........
2!...............
3!---KICKOUT
Phil Goode is still reeling from the headbutt as he gets to his feet. Tony Savage is stirring before he gets pulled up by hair. He tries to throw a right jab, but Phil moves his body away, leading perfectly into Savage’s left jab. Goode quickly stops the endeavor with a knee to the gut, then a club to the welt growing on Tony’s back. Savage pops a right hand in the face in retaliation, a second one staggering the big man. Goode’s left hand reaches into Tony’s eyes, raking them and causing him to turn away in pain. The trunks are quickly grabbed by the waist to pull the injured lower back right into The First’s elbow strike, then a full nelson is snatched - hasty dragon suplex! He keeps a bridged pin after the finisher!
Sandra Yandel: 1!..........
2!..........
3!
DING DING DING!
As soon as the bell rings, the hold is let loose and Goode is hopping on both knees with his arms raised in the air, as if he had just won the Super Bowl. Tony Savage lays on his side, his hand grabbing at the hurt back as a trainer makes it to his side.
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, advancing to the first round at AWF Gold Rush: The First! PHIL! GOOOOODE!
Christian Cage: Look at how smug that smirk is on Phil Goode’s face! I love it!
Now on his feet, he keeps his hands in the air as he continuously marches around the ring arrogantly, to the crowd’s dismay.
Phil Goode d. Tony Savage in 4:54
Another vignette transitions us away. The scene opens up on a dreary day, showing Max Ironside standing inside one of the most historical buildings in Montreal – the former Forum. He stands at the recreation of center ice, looking down at the dashed red and white line.
Max Ironside
The concept of reinvention isn't new to me – I suppose it's not really new to anyone who's been in this business longer than a few years. Sometimes things get old. They need to be refreshed. Sometimes they outlive their use and a newer, better thing comes along. Can't help but feel the parallels this week, especially when I'm standing here, in a building that's seen so much. If only these walls could talk… the stories I'm sure they could tell. Twenty-four Stanley Cup championships called this place home. That's just a little overwhelming. I'm sure the number of championships Raging Dead has held far surpasses that, but I'm still impressed.
He shuffles his feet, toeing at the line.
Max Ironside
I'll be the first to admit I feel a little like a traitor this week. I grew up a couple hours from Detroit and while this isn't Maple Leaf Gardens...
He makes a face like he wants to spit after having that name in his mouth.
Max Ironside
I'm a Red Wings fan. I didn't really get much of a choice there. Proximity and all that jazz. Not that I really watch all that much hockey these days. Don't really have time for it.
He forces a smile and then stares down at the floor again, sighing.
Max Ironside
This week I'm in the Main Event and while it's not my first time at the top of the card, in the spotlight match, it is the first time I've faced someone with as much wrestling history stored in his noggin as Raging Dead. All my time spent in the indies, never really got to rub shoulders with a veteran of his caliber. I mean, he's probably FORGOTTEN more moves over the years that I've ever even learned. So, it's not all that foreign for me to be nervous about this match, especially with the extra variable of the talented Athena in the mix. There's only so much you can do to prepare for a match like this.
It's quiet where he stands and he looks around for a moment. The last movie in the multiplex cinema that dominates most of the building is still running, won't be out for another half hour at least so he has the place to himself. Beyond the doors, rain is falling, pattering against the glass. Head bowed; he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his battered hoodie, gathering his thoughts.
Max Ironside
Goes without saying that I want to win, I want to finally wrap my hands around that prize and hold it tight. I want to know that all these years of busting ass and working for peanuts in rec centers and high school gyms was worth it because it brought me here. It put me on the legendary Bret Hart's radar and it allowed me this singular opportunity to compete in the big leagues. If I can beat a legend and a skilled female wrestler, I can move on to the final… one step closer to the gold and the glory I've been after for years. I could maybe face someone like Sasha Foote, someone worthy of respect.
Max turns and looks towards the statue of 'Rocket' Maurice Richard sitting on a bench, stick at ready, waiting to jump into action. The eagerness on The Rocket's face matches Max's own as he stands there with his hands still in his pockets.
Max Ironside
And I'm not saying I don't respect Gust. Not at all. He's good. He's also working for several other companies right now and there has to be a toll it's taking. Nothing against his body of work. I watched his match with Spud; I saw how easily he handled a guy that size – I'm not much bigger. I'm aware of all the things against me this week, from decades of experience to… well… yeah. The experience counts for everything. He knows what to do. He knows how to chase a championship and actually follow through on that and believe me, I've been studying really hard. I've watched thousands of hours of tape over the last few weeks. I've got the Nathan Gust/Raging Dead highlight reel running through my head on repeat. I've got the knowledge of his go-to moves, his weaknesses, all his tells and tics. I got all this hype to live up to now, like the diamond in the rough some wrestling reporter labelled me as. I'm feeling all sorts of pressure but I don't feel much like coal. I don't think squeezing me as hard as you can will produce a shiny, over-priced rock. That's a myth, really. Pressure doesn't make heroes or elevate people – not the way you wish it would. That would be too much like magic and that simply doesn't exist.
He takes his good hand from his pocket and rests it on the shoulder of Richard.
Max Ironside
This guy was in the right place at the right time. He existed at a time when the sport was far more dangerous, when a man had to be wily and cagey – he was. He was one of the most cerebral guys out there and while he's no Gretzky for the records racked up, he's still getting his dues. He's here, immortalized even though the rink that he defined himself on is long gone. I guess a part of me envies that more than I really care to admit. It's nice to be in the record books, to have that benchmark set that people want to break. But this right here? This is more my jam. Being celebrated within the walls that made you who you are, long after the cheers have faded away. Gust, like our friend The Rocket here, probably has that somewhere already. He's probably in four or five halls of fame in companies that nobody outside the Jim Cornettes of the business even remember. He probably has a giant room full of trophies and defunct belts and pictures of himself everywhere. Why not? I would if I had a career like his. I would want to remember every second of it, revel in all the glory that went down because it still leaves him with that shine. He's got clout simply because he's been doing this twice as long as anyone else. I mean, the longer you're around, the more glory. That's a given. This is the home of one of the original six. That's why there are so many Cups. That's why Gust is so damn celebrated. It's a trick of time. It's not a true testament of skill any more than me beating Boneius was.
He lifts that same hand up and rubs it over his mouth as though he wants to wipe away the bitterness in his tone.
Max Ironside
Listen, I know I'm not the odd-on favorite. I know there's nobody out there calling for me to be the winner of this whole shebang and I'm reminded about all the other times I've had doors slammed in my face. All the other times people have laughed at me, called me a fool for wanting to chase a dream in pro wrestling that even someone completely able-bodied can wash out of. I don't want the story to end with me pushing and pushing, forever trying to make it uphill with the boulder of disability and skepticism only for it to to roll back and crush me in the end. I want to prove that I can do this. That heart and passion and determination and HARD WORK can topple a legacy when it comes right down to it. When the old bones have served their use, they can be repurposed. They can be revamped into something better...
He starts to walk away from center ice and The Rocket's statue towards the doors and the rain outside that awaits. Pausing, he looks back over his shoulder.
Max Ironside
I'm not here to be anybody's victim. I'm not here to be a punchline. I'm not here to fill a quota or to catch the pity card. No, hell no. I'm here to win, Gust. If I have to do that by tearing you apart, by proving that your legacy and your last hurrah is just another grab to keep from slipping into irrelevancy… so be it. I'll do what it takes, WHATEVER it takes.
Without another word, he turns and pulls his hood up to cover his head, pushing out into the rain with his shoulders hunched, looking determined and resolute. Looking, really, like a future champion.
Priscilla Kelly has taken over our sponsoring division for the last two breaks by holding the production crew hostage:
They left.
Mark Beverly: The following contest is the Redemption Royale where the winner will be granted a round one bye in the AWF Provincial Championship tournament.
His music blaring through the speakers, Big Homunculus heads to the ring, but something is different. He's walking on his own two feet, looking clean shaven, wearing a suit several sizes too small and smiling at something he's never heard before; the cheers of the crowd.
Mark Beverly: Introducing first, a reject from the pygmy tribes of unexplored Central Africa weighing two hundred twenty pounds: THE! Big! HOMUNNNNNCULUS!
He still has his booster step in one hand and uses it to get onto the ring apron, before lying his huge body face down and rolling under the bottom rope. Once in the ring he stands tall (whether he realises it or not) and stands with arms open, reminiscent of Kid Dynamite Mike Tyson after scoring a devastating KO, lapping up the adulation.
Big Homunculus
I stand here today for one reason and one reason only: To apologise.
The crowd boos.
Big Homunculus
I apologise to Bret Hart. I questioned his faith in me and his impartiality in his role but his true colours have shone through since then and he stands on the sometimes combustible side of the truth. If you want to be seen by him you've got to give him something good to see and I realise now we're all on a level playing field and must rise above the rest. By pinfall or elimination or by explosive arson. Due to my genetic malfunction I will struggle to rise even to eye level with most so I've got to go a little extra here and there, but what's the point in buying an XL suit if I can't one day grow into it?
Big Homunculus stretches his arms out and the armpits of his drastically undersized suit tear.
Big Homunculus
Even Armani can't hold me. I reserve an even bigger apology to all of you, and to myself. Last time I spoke I was trying not to lose and that was it. Well now I've eliminated last week's main eventer before the match has even started so losing is already impossible, I'm here to win. It's Pygmy Time! It's time for a little guy to win the match of giants!
The crowd are back onside and a chant of "PYGMY TIME! PYGMY TIME!" starts to build.
Big Homunculus
With one elimination I'm already in first place. I don't care how many banded bicep curls that butthurt bag of brittle bones Baron Boneius can bash out, he should stick to asinine assonance and alliteration and stay out of my way after what happened to the last person who Kross'd me. Rockstar Spud can boast about how tall he is all he wants but he'll be on the stolen pain pills when this is all over and I've cut him down to size. There's only one thing that can stand in my way and that seems to be the legal system-
Big Homunculus is abruptly cut off by the BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP of a Bin Lorry reversing. The beeping comes from the crowd, and through a large entry way, a garbage truck emerges. It reverses into the crowd, fans running for their lives as it runs over a few seats. It finally stops. Out of it emerges Ruxx Rampede, wrestling gear on, bin bag in hand, looking ready to fight. The crowd chant 'Bin Man of Boynton Beach We Love You So Much We Really Do You Are The Best Bin Man In Boynton Beach Or Just Any Beach Like Blackpool Beach And Other Beaches' in sync.
Mark Beverly: His opponents - first, from Boynton Beach, Florida, weighing in at two hundred seventy pounds: RUXXXXXX! RAMPEDE!
He runs down to the ring, swinging his bin bag above his head, and climbs into it. He comes face to face with Big Homunculus, then takes a step back, and pulls out a mic.
Ruxx Rampede
You think I'm gonna fight Big Homunculus?
The crowd cheer. Ruxx shakes his head. He grabs at his skin, and rips it off. The crowd are shocked, but then realise it wasn't his skin, just a skin suit, and he is actually wearing a business suit underneath. He throws his skin suit into the crowd, and it is caught by a hot Ruxx Rampede groupie who gives it a big fucking sniff.
Ruxx Rampede
Not a chance! I do not fight clients! Except tonight when I will fight him in the battle royal, but until then, I do not fight clients! Why is Big Homunculus my client you ask? Well, some allegations have been made about my poor brother here, and he decided to come to me for help. You see, we bin men make good lawyers!
Ruxx reaches into his bin bag, and pulls out a briefcase. He doesn't do anything with it. Just holds it whilst he speaks to look smarter.
Ruxx Rampede
Big Homunculus has been charged with blowing up the house of that bitch Roderick Kross. Let me put the record straight, you might think just because of our complexion that we are criminals, but that is of course racist.
Ruxx opens up his briefcase. He pulls out a picture of the KKK.
Ruxx Rampede
Like these men.
He stomps on it. The crowd nod.
Ruxx Rampede
My client may have been filmed at the house at the time of the explosion, which was filmed and shown earlier. But listen bitches, look at this.
Ruxx pulls out a clearly forged document.
Ruxx Rampede
This official document states that Big Homunculus is actually a trainee fireman or some shit, and he was actually inspecting the house for a gas leak. You see, my client was a hero. He tried saving that Irish bitch's house. He wasn't quick enough though, and fled the house quickly so he didn't die in the explosion. He also got that pussy boy Roderick Cockboy to quit, so is a bigger hero than any of you can fathom. Just so you all know, Roderick Kross was not only a bitch, but also a racist, and a pedophile.
The crowd nod. They understand. They also know Roderick Kross is a pedophile.
Ruxx Rampede
Who did do the explosion? Or gas leak or whatever? Dunno Rockstar Spud probably. Yeah it was actually. It was Rockstar Spud. I saw him. He threw a big stick of dynamite threw the window.
The crowd seem shocked.
Rockstar Spud appears on the ramp to rapturous applause but he doesn't acknowledge it. Spud is red faced and feeling the pressure of the intense investigative questioning.
Mark Beverly: From the Backseat of the Tour Bus, weighing one hundred forty one pounds: THE ROCKSTAR! SPUD!
Spud stays at the top of the ramp and begins to pace furiously, back and forth like a father waiting for the test results of his sick child. The crowds cheers dissipate into confusion.
Spud
(Off mic) Can someone get me a microphone please?
A stage hand throws a mic to Spud which Spud dramatically fumbles and bumbles and drops to the floor for a loud THUD. Rather than simply picking it up from the floor, Spud follows it down to ramp, bumping his head on the way down.
Spud grabs mic and lies in the foetal position on the stage.
Spud
Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
The crowd seem confused but interested.
Spud
Oh, my mums gonna be so disappointed.
The crowds confusion changes to shock.
Spud
I don't think I did it, see I remember every thing I did this week and it didn't include blowing up a house but Ruxx makes such an excellent case against me, oh gosh, maybe I did, oh I'm sorry mum.
Some children in crowd cry.
Spud
Let's see, motive, what's my motive. Well as we've discovered, Kross was a bad man, I do not like bad men in the slightest, bloody hell. On top of that he's a pedophile, crap, I'm 5'4" and boyishly cute, I'm a pedophiles wet dream, you can't get locked up for raping a grown man, probably.
Helpful Crowd Member
You definitely can!
Spud
Why thank you member of the crowd, how convenient you were here because no-one else but you and Ruxx could have possibly known that. Okay maybe he just threatened rape, wow now we're getting there but what else. Well Kross is a vertically challenged, good looking, fair haired, really hard dude, from across the pond, maybe I was threatened that he may take my spot.
The crowd laugh in rapturous hysterics, it's so loud that the building is shaking, Ruxx and Homunculus are also laughing at the notion of him being capable of taking anybody's spot. Homunculus falls to the ground in hysterics.
Spud
(Giggling) Yeah no, probably not that. (wiping away a tear of laughter) Probably just the pedo and bad man thing. Has anyone analysed the other evidence, hmmmm, this looks like a job for.
Rockstar Spud turns around, reaches into the pockets of his leather jacket and pulls out; a pipe and a deerstalker cap. he perches the pipe on his bottom lip and puts the deerstalker on, when he turns around he's no longer red-faced and nervous, he looks calculating and inquisitive.
Spud
LIKE A JOB FOR DETECTIVE SPUD! So evidence, evidence, evidence, hmmmm. Kross, spell it with a C and you have cross, Jesus died on one but that's irrelevant at this juncture. Cross, cross, another name for a cross is an X, if you double the X you have XX the chromosome of a woman.
The crowd are following on intently, some are making notes from the excellent Detective work being done by Detective Spud.
Spud
And XY chromosomes are male, male, male, male, what's a name for a young male.
Helpful Crowd Member
Colin.
Spud
Thank you for your prior legal advice helpful crowd member but leave this to the experts.
The crowd member sits down.
Spud
A young male, a kid, a boy, BOY! That's it, great. Other scrappy competitors, not just Roderick, hmm, me, no too easy, Scrappy Doo, no too shit, Melvin Doo, God I wish. Scrappy, who was scrappy, OH MY GOSH, BRAINWAVE, Tonya Harding, shorten it, Ton. So it's a boy and Ton, boy n' Ton, Boyton. There's only one active competitor in AWF from Boynton, wow holy hell.
The audience collectively gasp in shock.
Spud
(Puffing on his pipe) Who stood to gain the most from the explosion. Who parlayed a dead end career into one doling out legal advice, who has been outspoken on the incident although they know all the facts, without enlisting a super sleuth like myself, hmmm.
Spud walks down to the ring and climbs to the apron, with both Homunculus and Ruxx staring at him, Ruxx looks worried.
Spud
It seems to me that the answer has been staring us in the face this whole time.
Spud locks eyes with a nervous Ruxx. Ruxx is shaking.
Spud
(Spud offers his hand to Ruxx) Well Rampede, anything to say.
Ruxx shakes his head.
Spud
It was elementary my dear Rampede, who has been outspoken, Boy n Ton, Boynton, who parlayed their career.
The crowd are ready for the inevitable delivery.
Spud
(Grabs Ruxx's hand and shakes it) Thank you for the help old bean..... MOUNTIES ARREST THAT MAN!
Spud dramatically, points past Ruxx, past Homunculus and out into the crowd, beyond the front row, beyond the second into the third row. ROW 3 SEAT F, where sat looking down and crying is the HELPFUL CROWD MEMBER.
Mounties originally meant for Big Homunculus emerge from all corners of the building and accost the Helpful Crowd Member who does not struggle as he's been truly caught by a worthy adversary, AWF's greatest 1 promo Detective; DETECTIVE SPUD.
In the ring Homunculus and Ruxx are stunned, Spud cooly takes a final puff of his pipe before placing it down on mat, his Deerstalker he tosses to Homunculus who giddily grins, like the kids who Bret used to give his sunglasses to.
Spud shakes his head and the cool intellectual look on his face is gone, Detective Spud is gone. Spud lifts his arm in the air and gives a rock n' roll salute.
Before marching up the ramp in typical Spud fashion, bye bye Detective Spud, welcome back Rockstar Spud.
]ANNOUNCER
ROCKSTAR SPUD HAS LEFT THE BUILDING!.....
....
Well not the building, the ringside area, he has a match in about three minutes, oh whatever it sounded cool.
ROCKSTAR SPUD HAS.... Oh you know what never mind, the moments gone.
As chaos and confusion reigns, Big Homunculus stretches his limbs out until his undersized suit tears to smithereens around him. He walks over to Lawyer Ruxx and shakes his hand.
Big Homunculus
When next we meet we will be rivals, but never enemies.
Homunculus rolls under the bottom rope and gestures to a nearby runner who throws him some sort of backpack. Homunculus puts on the back pack and leaps from the ring apron, pulling a string on the backpack which releases a full size parachute which totally envelopes him by the time he has made the three foot drop to the ground.
As Homunculus tears through the parachute, a freshly signed referee approaches.
Referee:
What are you doing? Your match is about to start!!?
DWARVEN CHOKESLAM! The ref twitches on the ramp as Big Homunculus marches backstage. Once out of sight we see on the titantron a shot of an atlas which zooms in on a random part of central Africa until we're amongst thick woodland. We see the vague outline of a gangly character moving through the trees. Bad video effects are used intensely throughout the vignette, almost without shame.
Big Homunculus narration
Before re entering the ring where I have been created and destroyed I must find who I am. I must seek my beginnings and rekindle what created me. I was not made in the ring or the gym but in the wild.
The gangly character is illuminated as some form of hirsute big foot-esque beast. Big Homunculus charges out of nowhere and running headbutts the bast into a tree before feasting on its still warm flesh.
In a different part of the woodland, Homunculus now wears the creature as a hooded coat. This will be his entrance attire from now on.
Big Homunculus narration
I'm a pack animal without a pack. I want to call out in my native tongue, but speaking in the Pygmy dialect is forbidden for those who have been banished.
Through a sniper scope, we see Big Homunculus making his way through the forrest. With the beast's hide on his back he looks like a wild mammal. A poacher operates the sniper. He adjusts the lens and looks again but Homunculus is nowhere to be seen. He turns around and Homunculus is towering over him.
Big H casts the gun aside and lifts the poacher up for a chokeslam. At the height of the slam a 2006 nokia ring tone is heard. Big Homunculus reaches in his new hooded coat and answers.
Big Homunculus
You've got Homunculus. Oh?...Oh shit of course, the redemption royale! Why didn't anybody tell me it was about to start?
Big H folds up the poacher, places the poacher into the poacher's own back pack and puts it on.
Big Homunculus
I don't have much time. To the spirit of the forrest, recognise me as your son. Carry me to where I am most needed!
A wind blows around him, the leaves shaking as the wind builds into a violent bluster shaking the trees themselves. Big H is blown off balance at first, then gradually lifted into the air, higher and higher until he's out of sight.
Back in the arena and the crowd stand in bemused confusion as the titantron goes blank. There is a sound of wind battering the outsides of the building. A loud guttural scream can be heard echoing around the arena. The titantron now shows the car park backstage and Homunculus seemingly falls from the sky onto a Ford Fiesta, badly denting the hood and smashing the windshield. The poacher in his backpack breaks his fall, acting as a wet, bloody airbag.
Big Homunculus bounces to his feet. Ruxx still has not moved from the ring, but has been slowly undressing from his business suit, into his ring gear underneath. He throws his business suit to the same Ruxx Rampede fangirl in the audience, who rubs her face against it lovingly. Ruxx turns back towards the stage, and starts stretching, preparing for his opponents.
Out first, straight back from his random adventure to Africa, is Big Homunculus, draped in his creature hide, and carrying his step ladder. The enamoured cheers from the crowd return, ecstatic to see the Nonce Slayer make his way back to the ring. The referee that was previously hit with a Dwarven Chokeslam on the ramp is just stirring, getting to his feet slowly. He turns around, to be met by the sight of Homunculus once more. DWARVEN CHOKESLAM ONCE MORE!
Lance Storm: We just signed him this morning.
The referee spasms on the ramp and goes still, as Homunculus moves away from the wreckage he has left. Homunculus uses his step ladder to climb into the ring, rolling under the bottom rope, until he comes face to face with his lawyer Ruxx Rampede. The pair nod at one another, respectfully, before Homunculus turns to the ramp as his theme music switches to Rockstar Spud's.
Christian Cage: Did these men know their match was literally on next when they all started moving to the back?
Rockstar Spud bursts out onto the stage, as if he hadn't just previously been there only minutes ago. Christian shakes his head disapprovingly, as Spud moves down the ramp energetically, high fiving the fans on either side, before bounding into the ring, showcasing his energetic prowess.
He comes to a standstill between his two opponents, and is slightly daunted by the sheer size difference between them (though Homunculus would see otherwise). Nonetheless, his face grows serious and determined, their size does not matter, only how hard they fall. He backs up into a corner, leaps onto the turnbuckle, and raises his arms to cheers from the crowd.
And then, the lights start to go erratic, as the familiar terrifying theme of one Barron Boneius plays out.
The cheers for the other three competitors are no more, replaced with boos that almost drown out the music. Dark smoke rises from the stage, obscuring the dark silhouetted figure that emerges through it… a huge figure, muscles upon muscles, closer to Hulk than man. Another smaller figure rides atop the hulking one, and out of the smoke, sounds the shrill evil cackling of two men.
Mark Beverly: Being accompanied to the ring by Snivley, from the Kingdom of Foreverton, weighing in tonight at two hundred forty five pounds: BARRON! BONE! IE! US!
The silhouette moves forth from the smoke, revealing the purple and blue garb of a humongous Barron Boneius, his skeletal face contorted into a devilish grin. Snivley rides on his back, an ugly and disgusting smile of his own, as he knows what chaos his Master can now bring in his new drug induced form.
Barron Boneius makes a slow walk down to the ring, purposefully so, as to enhance the boos, only causing him to cackle further. 'You fools and dolts! You should enjoy my slow walk! The longer it takes for me to reach that ring, the longer your heroes can live their precious lives!!!'
Christian Cage: Pure evil has never been so friggin’ rad!
He finally reaches the ring, and as he climbs inside, Snivley starts to root around under the ring apron. He grins giddily, as he slowly starts to pull out a table, a big skull painted across it. He cackles as he sets it up, and Boneius grins, eyeing up his opponents to see which he will throw over the top rope, and through said table.
Snivley finally clambers into the ring and giggles, running circles around his liege and hopping about in excitement. The other three look on in disgust, especially at Snivley, who appears to repulse all three of them. Boneius removes his helmet slowly.
'You did not expect this did you!' Boneius starts, 'You did not foresee that the previously much smaller Barron Boneius would be such an image of incredible intimidation! Bask in me, you bin men and rockstars and large midgets… bask! And let it be the last thing you all do with your pathetic lives!'
'BASK IN MASTER!' screams Snivley.
With all four men in the ring, including an overly eager Snivley, ready for the match to begin, no more waiting is necessary.
...The bell rings.
The Redemption Royale has begun.
Snivley is the first to move, darting hard and fast at Rockstar Spud, assuming him to be an easy target. But his attack is clocked easily by the much more skilled man, and Rockstar flips through the air, cracking a harsh enziguiri across Snivley's skull. A bit of snot goes flying from the nostril of Snivley into the crowd, as he dizzily tumbles into the grip of Big Homunculus. The giant Dwarf pushes him away from him, before landing a harsh left hook across Snivley's face.
Snively's neck almost snaps under the force, as the grey repulsive object stands in place for a few moments, his legs buckling, ready to collapse. Before he can though, Ruxx Rampede bounds off the ropes, and connects hard with Snivley with a huge POUNCE!
Lance Storm: The Ruxx Stampede! He hits Snivley with it!
Snivley soars through the air, before crashing into the large and toned stomach of Barron Boneius, ricocheting off of it, and plummeting to the mat at the Barron's feet. Boneius grimaces at his stupid minion, before looking up at his three opponents, all of them having displayed what they've got.
Boneius only cackles, and stomps his large boot onto the head of Snivley. The minion squeals, then goes stiff, as Boneius boots him flying to the concrete floor outside. Boneius steps forward.
'Who will challenge me first?'
And it's Rockstar Spud.
He darts at the hulking villain, jumping through the air for another enziguiri, but Boneius counters. He ducks, and goes to follow up with a clothesline, only for Spud to have an answer in return. Spud runs under the clothesline, at the turnbuckle, springs off of it, and hits a front dropkick to the face of Boneius, knocking him backwards slightly.
Ruxx tries to follow it up on this, hitting a few forearms into the face of Boneius, getting him into the turnbuckle. He attempts to follow up with a splash, but Boneius shoots forward, crashing a headbutt hard into Ruxx's chin. The Bin Man goes down hard, and Boneius moves straight from Ruxx into Spud. Before the Rockstar can respond, Boneius clatters him with a huge lariat, and Spud is down and out.
Christian Cage: He’s like a boss! This is everything he’s ever wanted!
Boneius looks up from the pair that he has taken down, up to the figure of Big Homunculus, stretching into the sky. He moves forwards and squares up to the Giant Dwarf, who glares wide eyed at the Evil Villain of Foreverton.
'Your size does not intimidate me!' Homunculus states.
'Then you are as simple as you are ugly!' Boneius returns, 'There will be no driving me from this place, you giraffe of a man! I have no loved ones to erradicate in a fiery explosion! My only love… is for the suffering of others!'
Boneius swings back his arm, and goes for a right hook, but Homunculus dodges it, before landing a flurry of punches into the face and torso of the Skeletal Villain. Boneius reels backwards, oofing and owing, as he is almost knocked off his feet by a swinging left hook to the temple. He tumbles into the ropes, and Homunculus sends him off with an irish whip. Boneius returns, straight into a big boot to the face!
Boneius topples backwards, before letting himself tumble through the middle ropes, where he collects himself on the outside, leaning against the table Snivley has set up for him.
Lance Storm: Important to mention Barron Boneius is not eliminated there! He went through the middle ropes, you have to go over the top to find yourself out of this match-
Christian Cage: Thanks Lance we know! How many battle royales have there been in wrestling by now?!
Homunculus, still inside the ring, measures Boneius on the outside. He bounds at the ropes on the other side of the ring, before charging back… SUICIDE DIVE! Straight through the middle ropes! Clattering Barron Boneius as the two tumble into Snivley's Table, almost knocking it over! The crowd go crazy seeing a man of Homunculus' height perform such a maneuvre.
Homunculus holds a dizzy Boneius in place, before he wraps his large fingers around his throat, readying him for a Dwarven Chokeslam! But wait- Ruxx Rampede comes charging around the corner! RUXX STAMPEDE! He smashes both men with a huge POUNCE! Homunculus goes flying spine first into the apron, as Boneius tumbles onto Snivley's Table, laying precariously across it!
Ruxx starts beating his chest enthusiastically, the crowd cheering him on. Spud is to his feet, and sees the Bin Man on the outside of the ring, and thinks fast. Climbing through the middle rope, Spud gets onto the apron, and as Ruxx turns around, the Tour Bus Terror springs off of the middle rope, and hits a picture perfect MOONSAULT onto Rampede!
But the Bin Man catches him!
Lance Storm: Catching all those sacks in his freetime is really working out for Ruxx.
Christian Cage: Did you just try to make an innuendo?
Lance Storm: Of course not, Christian; sacks of trash.
Christian Cage: Uh-huh.
He holds a struggling Spud in place, aiming him at the corner post! He charges at it, but Spud wiggles off of his shoulder just in time, pushing at Ruxx and using his momentum to send the Bin Man face first into the steel ring post! Ruxx's head bounces off nastily, as he careens away from it into the barricade.
Spud backs up a bit, before taking a huge run up at Ruxx… he hits him with a huge Spinning Wheel Kick! Ruxx topples over the barricade, and lands into the laps of the fans sitting front row, including his very enthusiastic fangirl. She cradles the Bin Man's head as he lays dazed and dizzy in her lap, weeping with excitement.
Spud turns around, and sees Homunculus at his feet, lumbering towards him in what is an intimidating sight. Spud runs at Homunculus, attempting to flatten him with a dropkick, but Homunculus catches Spud by his legs, and swings him around until he bashes Spud's head nastily against the side of the ring apron.
Spud reels around on the floor, as Homunculus picks him up by the neck, ready to slam him with a Dwarven Chokeslam. Spud bats and pries at Homunculus' arm, but it's no use, his grip is too tight! Boneius starts to stir from his position on the table, sitting up, only to be greeted too by a clutching hand around the throat from Homunculus.
The Giant Dwarf has the pair, Spud in one hand, Boneius in the other, but before he can capitalise, the much stronger Boneius slams a mighty forearm down on Homunculus', and breaks his grip on him. Boneius follows up with a rake to Homunculus' eyes, causing him to let go of Spud too. Spud capitalises quickly, and cracks Boneius with a Superkick to the jaw! Boneius' head snaps backwards, as he collapses back into his position layed on Snivley's Table.
Spud sees his chance.
With Homunculus still toppling around, holding at his hurt eyes, Spud runs for the apron and jumps back onto it. Homunculus slowly stumbles into the perfect position, and Spud gulps as he readies himself. He hops from the apron, successfully feet first onto Homunculus' shoulders, propping him high high into the air. He peers down at Boneius on Snivley's Table, and leaps!
5 STONE SPUD SPLASH FROM HOMUNCULUS' SHOULDERS! RIGHT INTO BONEIUS!!! THROUGH THE TABLE!!!
Christian Cage: I’m having PTSD-induced flashbacks.
The crowd go wild, as Spud and Boneius lay in the wooden wreckage around them, both hurt and in pain! Spud slowly starts to pull himself to his feet, clutching hard at his stomach, as he roars an adrenaline filled roar, matching the enthused cheers of the crowd. He turns around though, and is flattened by a huge big boot from Homunculus!
Spud is tossed back into the ring, as Homunculus follows him inside. Spud tries to get back to his feet quickly, but his legs are still wobbly. Homunculus grabs him around the head, and tosses him hard at the ropes! Spud goes straight over the top…
But he clutches on!
Homunculus doesn't notice, as Spud skins the cat, and lands himself back into the ring. He's not done yet. Homunculus turns around slowly, to see the 5,4 of Sweat and Sex Appeal is still there, he charges at Spud, but Spud is quick, and kicks out Homunculus' leg. Homunculus topples to his knees, before Spud charges up…
SWEET POTATO MUSIC! Huge Superkick to the jaw of Homunculus!
The Giant Dwarf is rattled, tumbling backwards into the ropes, as Spud charges at him once more! He slams Homunculus with a clothesline! Homunculus teeters backwards, but he doesn't go over the top rope! Spud tries again! He charges at the opposing ropes again, and returns with another HUGE clothesline! Homunculus teeters… BUT NO! He stays in it!
That's it! Rockstar Spud bolts at the ropes a third time, and with all his momentum… spins through the air for a SPINNING WHEEL KICK!
Homunculus catches him!!! Before Spud can react, Homunculus tosses him over his head, over the ropes! Out of the ring!
NO! Spud lands on the apron! He hangs on!!!
Lance Storm: Spud’s small, but hell if he isn’t cagey.
Homunculus topples forwards into the ring, before turning around… Spud springs off of the top rope! SPRINGBOARD DDT!!! He fells Homunculus, and the pair both crash hard to the mat! Spud is on fire! Too pent up with adrenaline, he jumps right back to his feet, not giving himself time to rest, as he soaks up more adoring cheers from the fans!
But his eyes rest on the front row ahead of him, where Ruxx had been knocked into, and Ruxx is nowhere to be seen. Spud gulps, before he turns around, and is wrestled straight into position on Ruxx's shoulders! The Bin Man gives an almighty roar, as he splatters Spud onto the mat with a huge Alabama Slam!
Spud doesn't get long to lay on the mat, as Ruxx wraps both his arms around Spud, and with an incredibly impressive feat of strength, deadlifts him straight above his head for a Military Press! The crowd whoop, as Ruxx showcase his strength by pressing Spud a few times, before his eyes lock on Homunculus on the mat.
Whilst usually his client, right now, Homunculus is his opponent, and so Ruxx doesn't hesitate, before he slams Spud down hard into the abdomen of a downed Homunculus! The pair both squirm on the mat in pain, as Ruxx admires his handy work… before a second idea comes into his head.
He claps his hand together, as the crowd quieten down in anticipation for what is about to happen as he again eyes up the 6,10 Big Homunculus. He bends down, and to the utter amazement of the crowd, he deadlifts Big Homunculus above his head! The crowd are shocked, but cheer wildly as Ruxx starts to military press Big Homunculus, before aiming the Giant Dwarf down at Rockstar Spud, and with a huge slam, makes the two connect again!
The two men writhe around in pain once more, as Homunculus slams hard across Spud. The Bin Man whoops in excitement, before he is quickly turned around. A cape swoops across his face, distracting him momentarily, before he is sucker punched in the nose! Boneius is back to his feet, the crazy amount of steroids in his system allowing him to heal from the pain of going through a hard wood table much quicker than it should the average man!
Boneius locks Ruxx around the neck, and aims him at the ropes, pushing him throat first against the top rope as to choke the life out of the Bin Man! Ruxx is clearly struggling to get air, and to make matters worse, Boneius starts to deliver nasty, brutal elbows to the top of Ruxx's skull! Ruxx grits his teeth in pain, whilst Boneius only cackles!
He tosses Ruxx backwards into the ring, before charging at him, and downing him with another vicious running elbow! With Ruxx down, Boneius moves over to Rockstar Spud, and lifts him to his feet, before pressing him against the turnbuckle.
'Want to put me through a table aye!? You prickly, perpetually putrid potato man!'
Boneius grabs Spud by the hair, and starts to slam him hard, face first, over and over again into the top turnbuckle. Spud tries his hardest to fight against the oncoming unconsciousness, but it's no use, after the 8th consecutive slam into the only barely protected steel, it's too much for the Pint Sized Pariah to take.
Christian Cage: (in Barron form) BEHOLD!
Boneius chuckles as Spud becomes dead weight in his hands, before dragging him by his hair into the middle of the ring. He props Spud up to face him, and before Spud can clatter to the mat unconcious, Boneius lands a nasty right hook straight to Spud's nose! It busts, and a bloody Spud collapses to the mat!
'I'm done losing to miniature mongoloids like yourself! It happened once! It will not happen again!'
Boneius picks Spud up by his bloody face, watching as the crimson oozes down onto his chest, and cackles some more. Seeing the sight excites him. He just can't help himself, he gets a handful of the blood dribbling from Spud's nose, and starts to smear it all over the Rockstar's face. The crowd boo, only warranting Boneius to enjoy it more.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, it is Homunculus, to his feet now and ready to join back in the action. Boneius is ready for him though, and flicks some of Spud's blood into his eyes! Homunculus cries 'No my eyes! Not again!', before he is knocked staggering backwards by an elbow to the chin by Boneius.
Boneius laughs again, as he turns back to continue playing with the bloody and battered Rockstar Spud. He gets into Spud's face.
'Remember this face you silly little-'
LOW BLOW! Spud crashes his forearm right into the testicles of the Sworn Enemy of Good! The Barron lets out a nasally and agonising moan, as he clutches at his injured gonads! Spud spits blood into Boneius' face, causing the Barron to clutch at his eyes as he groggily dances around on the mat! Spud is at his feet, and leaps into the air, locking his legs around the back of Boneius' head!
REVERSE FRANKENSTEINER!
Boneius lands head first onto the mat, crumpling nastily onto his front, as a bloody and dazed Spud rolls away from him, finally giving himself time to catch his breath. Boneius meanwhile holds the top of his skull in pain, trying to get to his feet, but unable to due to the pain. The situation grows much worse for him, as Homunculus arrives on the scene.
Still standing, Homunculus lands fist after fist into the face of Boneius, grounding and pounding him to an almost unconscious state in the ring. Homunculus finishes the ground and pound by locking his tight grip around the throat of Boneius, lifting him from the ground right into the air, before smashing him down with a HUGE DWARVEN CHOKESLAM!!!
Ruxx is over with Homunculus now too, and the two men give each other a respectful nod. Looking down at the Dark Overlord of Evil, Ruxx moves over to the turnbuckle, and starts to climb… he measures Boneius, as Homunculus holds him in place, and he leaps…
THE TRASH COMPACTOR!!! HUGE Elbow Drop from Ruxx!
Ruxx lifts Boneius to his feet, before he and Homunculus aim him at the ropes. They both charge together, and toss Boneius! The Barron soars through the air, over the top rope… but he lands onto the apron! He's still in this!
Ruxx charges at Boneius to finish him off, but the Barron dodges the attempted forearm, and returns an elbow of his own! Ruxx collapses, and Homunculus takes his turn to follow up! He takes a huge swinging left hook at Boneius, but the Barron ducks that too! He sucker punches Homunculus in the side of the head, and the Giant Dwarf topples over to the the mat too!
Boneius cackles, 'I am the Dark Overlord of Evil! Do you think I can be defeated in my current state! Look at me! LOOK AT ME!' Boneius shakes his fists in the air victoriously!
Rockstar Spud is at his feet, and wastes no time! He bounds off of the middle rope, springboarding through the air, before crashing a hard dropkick over the head of Barron Boneius! The Barron is sent flying through the air, right off of the apron, in a path towards the concrete floor below…
BUT SNIVLEY IS UP! He dives through the air, landing perfectly in the path of where Boneius' feet are about to hit! One hits the floor, but the other lands firmly on Snivley's chest!
Lance Storm: WHAT!?!!
Christian Cage: Snivley!!! Snivley caught him! Only one foot didn't touch the floor! He's not eliminated!
Boneius is in shock, as his foot rests on the chest of the bruised and battered Snivley. Boneius looks from Rockstar Spud, to the grinning face of Snivley below him, who's arms he currently sits in. After a moment of stunned silence, Boneius begins to cackle, and the crowd start to boo. Spud is furious, as he looks out at the jovial and gigantic Boneius.
Boneius looks down at Snivley below him, and with not a thanks in sight, starts barking orders at him once more. 'Shuffle Snivley! SHUFFLE I TELL YOU!' And Snivley does so, shuffling his body underneath Boneius, as to make a bridge of his own body leading over to the steel steps. Boneius guffaws, as he starts to step across Snivley, stomping down on him overly harshly as he successfully makes his way over to the steel steps without touching the floor.
Spud readies himself for Boneius, as the Overlord slowly and eagerly moves back onto the apron from the steel steps. Spud darts for him, trying to knock him straight back out of the ring with a clothesline, but Boneius ducks.
'MASTER!' Snivley shouts, prompting Boneius to turn to him. And Snivley chucks to the Barron, none other than his Bone Batton!
Spud twists around, ready to follow up on Boneius, but he is clobbered across the head with the Bone Batton! Spud crashes to the nat, more blood spurting from his bloodied nose, as the Barron makes his way back into the ring!
Ruxx charges at Boneius, but he ducks Ruxx's swinging, clubbing arm, before stabbing at his stomach with the Bone Batton! Ruxx keels over in pain, holding at his bruised abdomen! Homunculus is at his feet too, but before he can react, he takes a nasty shot to the head from the Bone Batton! Homunculus is down!
Lance Storm: That Bone Batton is deadly and Boneius is a damned dangerous force this week.
As the Giant Dwarf clutches at his head, Boneius only cackles, as he reigns down shot after shot after shot at the downed Homunculus. Ruxx is to his feet, and seeing the brutally being inflicted on not only his client, but his friend, he roars as he jumps into action. Boneius knew this would happen though, and twists through the air, launching the Bone Batton and watching as it rattles Ruxx between the eyes!
The Bin Man clutches at his newly injured face, as he tumbles blind into the ropes. Boneius follows up quickly, grabbing at Ruxx's legs, and lifting him high into the air! The blind Ruxx tries to grab onto the ropes, but the movement is too quick and disorienting! He can't take a hold of a rope…
Ruxx sails straight over the top rope, and out of the ring! Clattering hard to the concrete on the outside! Ruxx Rampede is eliminated from the match!
The boos are at an all time high now, as Ruxx looks distraught on the outside, face in his hands as he lays on his back.
Christian Cage: Damn you bin men of the world!
His chances for Redemption are dashed. Boneius relishes in the response, the negativity from the crowd, the sheer disappointment and fury. The misery. The tears. Yes, this is why he is here, moments like these.
He turns around into a Pele Kick from Rockstar Spud! The crowd come to life again, as Boneius topples backwards, into the ropes! Spud bounds off of the ropes on the opposite side of the ring, and charges at Boneius, ready to whack him straight out with a huge impending lariat!
But Snivley is in the ring!
He positions himself between Spud and Boneius, hands up, pleading with Spud to stop! Spud comes to a halt, more out of shock than anything else, before his anger at the ugly grey minion sets in! He throws a quick jab to the face of Snivley, before locking a grip around his neck, and charging at the opposing ropes, sends Snivley soaring over the top and straight out of the ring!
The crowd cheer as Snivley almost reaches the ramp with how ferociously Spud tossed him. The Rockstar turns back to look at Boneius, and points at him, indicating to the crowd that he plans to do the same to him. The crowd cheer in response, as Spud grips around Boneius' neck like a vice! He aims him at the ropes, and starts to charge…
BUT BONEIUS TWISTS IT AROUND!
Using Spud's own momentum, Boneius shoves Spud at the ropes! Spud tries to hang on, but the blood on his hands causes him to slip!
SPUD FALLS OUT OF THE RING!
Another shower of boos, as Spud jumps to his feet, outraged, as he looks up at the cackling Barron Boneius inside the ring. He slaps his knee in his laughter, as the crowd scream and cry, aggressively angry at the cheap elimination of Rockstar Spud.
Boneius only bows at them in return, before turning his attention to Big Homunculus.
The crowd start to cheer and support the Giant Dwarf, chants of 'PYGMY TIME!' echoing all throughout the arena. Boneius only chuckles, moving over to his Bone Batton and picking it up, knowing the chants are helpless. There is no saving the bruised and battered Homunculus now.
Using the end of his Bone Batton, pressed under the chin of Homunculus, Boneius lifts a dazed Homunculus to his knees. He chuckles, as he aims the side of his Bone Batton against Homunculus' face.
'The next explosion… will be your head!'
And Boneius rears back the Bone Batton, before swinging it down as hard as he can against Homunculus' temple!
BUT HOMUNCULUS SWINGS A HOOK OF HIS OWN!!!
He CONNECTS with the Bone Batton!!!
The Bone Batton snaps in half, both halves careening in different directions, off into the crowd! The arena goes wild with cheers, as Boneius is lost for words! He looks in shock and horror at his newly empty hand!
The only thing he can think to say is…
He looks back down at Homunculus, who sends a jab at his face, knocking Boneius back! And then another, and another, a flurry of jabs batting at Boneius and sending him further and further back until his back his against the ropes.
Boneius' head is spinning, and he shakes his head as to regain his full composure, only to see a huge, gigantic left hook heading right towards his face.
'Darn it Snivley!' he mutters, before the HUGE LEFT CLOCKS HIM!!!
Boneius careens through the air, back flipping straight over the top rope! Snivley darts towards him once more, but he isn't fast enough! Boneius collides with Snivley's head, and the two land awkwardly and nastily to the concrete!!!
Barron Boneius is eliminated!!!
Big Homunculus wins!!!
The crowd erupt into huge cheers that almost brings down the building!
Christian Cage: The Damned Dwarf’s done it!
'PYGMY TIME!' chants echo across the whole crowd, as Big Homunculus raises his arms in victory in the middle of the ring. His eyes is a display of happiness and shock, he almost can't believe he was able to come out on top in such a fierce affair! He clutches at his body in pain, his opponents gave him the fight of his life, but god did it make the victory taste more sweet!
Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, receiving the bye in the first round of the AWF Provincial Championship: Big! Homunculus!
From the ramp, a disappointed looking Rockstar Spud starts to clap. He wishes it was he there, holding his arms up high in the ring, but at least it wasn't Boneius. Spud knew he had what it takes though. He will raise his arms in victory one day, perhaps with a World Championship Belt in hand. With a few more claps, Spud turns, and heads for the back.
Boneius meanwhile starts to stir, his eyes red with anger, as he looks over at Snivley, who gulps.
'SNIVLEY YOU DIMWITTED BOOB!!! I'LL HAVE YOUR REPULSIVE GREY HIDE FOR THIS!!!'
Boneius chases his terrified minion up the ramp to the back as well, the crowd laughing at the pair as he does so. Meanwhile, in the ring, Ruxx has climbed in, and moves over to face Big Homunculus. He gives him a respectful nod, before grabbing one of Homunculus' long arms, and raising it into the air, before pointing at him. The crowd cheer once more for their winner, the World's Tallest Dwarf, Big Homunculus. Commercial.
Well placed advertisement for Human Growth Hormones.
’Surviving Val Venis’ available for digital download in its entirety this 4th of July!
