S01E03 - Apollonia

Fade into tonight’s cold open.

INT. MALTESE BAR AND RESTAURANT - NIGHT

A dingy saloon bar with maybe at most 5 customers in it. Local Leather are in the corner of the building setting up their equipment, Spud is missing. The camera pans from the stage to a Canadian flag draped on the bar wall. The shot holds on the flag.

BEAT

The colour drains from the shot, until we are left with a 50's style dark black and white image, the aspect ratio shrinks from a full shot, to a stylised widescreen.

BEAT

The shot slowly moves over to a bar stool. Sat on the stool is the unmistakeable ROCKSTAR SPUD... BUT his leather jacket and fingerless gloves are replaced with long tan (well greyish in the black and white) trench coat and a fedora hat, he's wearing a shirt top button undone. He has a cigarette perched between his middle fingers and whiskey in front of him.

Spud (Inner Monologue)
(In a deeper gravely put on voice) That's me, I used to be somebody and you're probably wondering how I got here.

FRINGE runs over to Spud from the stage.

Fringe
We're on in a sec.

Spud
(Still doing the voice, puffing on his cigarette) You're gonna have to do it without me tonight kid.

Fringe
You're younger than me you pillock.

Spud
My voice isn't what it used to be son, loss, heart break and mystery will do that to a man.

Fringe
A non smoker, smoking 50 of them since Tuesday can't of helped dickhead.

Fringe stands awkwardly as Spud sits pondering his monologue.

Spud (Inner Monologue)
Talking like that would usually be enough to have me slap a man’s face baboon tushy red raw. Fringe is a good kid though. Funny of him to bring up Tuesday on Wednesday, like I can't count to 1, that mystery will have to be left unsolved as another has my undivided attention.

Spud
Play that slow jazz stuff you used to play at the hotel when we met.

Fringe shrugs and walks to the stage to inform, Ziggy and Panda. We see Ziggy mouth "for fucks sake" and Panda punches a wall before sitting behind the drums.

Spud (Inner Monologue)
Now to tell my story.

THIS PLAYS.



FLASHBACK TO - TUESDAY - INT. SPUDS LOCKEROOM - BEFORE REDEMPTION ROYALE

Spud is sat on the bench getting ready. He pulls out a mirror and checks that his hair has its signature just woke up rocker spikes. Spud returns to the mirror and begins to shuck and jive about like Mick Jagger. Spud goes into his locker and pulls out the deerstalker cap and pipe, puts them in his leather jacket pockets.

Spud
May come in handy.

Spud then goes back to the mirror and begins to stamp and fist pump veraciously in the style of Bruce Springsteen. The camera moves from Spud to a shot of his wrestling boots.

BEAT

A postcard floats in a feather like manner from out of shot and perches on the top of his left boot. We watch the card sit atop his boot for a moment until... Spuds foot comes in from top of shot and crumples the card into the boot.

Spud (Inner Monologue)
Ya see, to the layman, bit of card in a boot no problem. To an athlete, to a competitor, that is compromised perfection.

Spud stands up, seems a slight bit unsteady on his feet before shrugging and marching out of the room.

The locker room door slowly shuts and the shot holds on the door.

END FLASHBACK.

INT. MALTESE BAR AND RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Local Leather (without Spud) are playing an awful rendition of.



Spud is sat at the bar alone smoking and drinking whiskey. A bartender approaches Spud.

Bartender
Well hey there, erm, sir, you can't smoke in here.

Spud
When you're as old as I am kid you'll understand why I gots to do's this here, son.

Bartender
Whatever.

Spud (Inner Monologue)
A younger me would have slapped that boys face baboon tushy red raw. He's a good kid tho.

Spud pulls the postcard from his coat pocket. Spud looks at the back as the shot shows the front.

ON THE FRONT:


Spud (Inner Monologue)
"To the greatest wrestler in AWF, you look so cute in your leather pants, hard luck against Raging Dead, great match though, being on TV clearly agrees with you, I love you, talk soon"
But what does it mean?

OPHELIA, a tall gorgeous lady in a formal black dress with a slit up the entirety of left leg enters from behind Spud and stands at the bar beside the pondering Rockstar Spud. 

Ophelia
Something on your mind sir?

Spud
Who's askin'?

Ophelia
Ophelia Sparrow, as in the Faust Parks Sparrows.

Spud
Rockstar Spud, as in baked, mashed, fried or roasted.

Ophelia
You're funny.

Spud
(Shakes Ophelia by the shoulder) Well this is no laughing matter baby.

Ophelia
I'm not your baby. Not yet at least sugar.

Spud
I haven't been sweet as sugar for a long time doll.
...
This is what's on my mind(passing her the postcard).

Ophelia
Wow, how exotic, who's from there.

Spud
I am sugar lips. It's mind games, it was in my boot it caught me unaware, made zips less zippy, my hops less hoppy and took the sting out my kicks.

Ophelia
(Gasps) OH NO.

Spud
(Slaps Ophelia) Get a hold of yourself woman... What can I get you to drink?

Ophelia
Bourbon double, with 2 cubes of brown sugar and a lime wedge.

Spud
You heard the lady barkeep get on it.

Spud pulls out another cigarette, lights it and gives it to Ophelia who in turn positions the lit cigarette in her (Audrey Hepburn style) antique opera length cigarette holder and smokes. The bartender annoyedly passes Ophelia her drink.

Spud
So there's 3 guys in the match who stood to gain from my compromised state, Ruxx Rampede, Big Homunculus and Barron Boneius, these are the suspects of this...

Ophelia
Postcard Puzzle.

Spud
(Raises his hand but doesn't slap Ophelia) Don't go stealing my lines doll face, I loves ya but not that much.

Ophelia
So how would each of them have done it, if it was them that did it?

Spud
(puffing on his cigarette) Well doll here's my take.
(each possible scenario plays out as Spud describes it happening)
Big Homunculus, as we know has access to the most cutting edge in high speed air travel, making it incredibly easy for him to go to Birmingham and procure the postcard. From there he'd simply write out his message and use his own shear will power of being a dwarf to walk through the key hole of a closed locker room door and sneak his gigantic frame around the room to perfectly position the card for maximum discomfort, also he would go on to win the match, ergo he possibly did similar sabotage to the others.

Now Barron Boneius' motive is simple, he worships chaos and evil, inflicting the psychological trauma of me seeing BIRMINGHAM on a postcard is his bag to a tee. How he got it in the boot is simple, HE didn't, his trusty sidekick Snivley would have been forced into the buildings ventilation system, navigating it expertly to find exactly where I'd be at the exact right moment to strike.

Finally, Mr Rampede, Boynton Beach is actually a twin town of Birmingham, maybe, so procuring the postcard was easy. Then simply all Ruxx would have to do is get the card into my boot, child's play for an experienced gentleman like Rampede. Ruxx simply slid the card under the door, he then lifted his hefty sack of trash and swung and spun the back with such unbridled velocity it created an ensuing gust of wind strong enough to pass under the door and blow the letter up into the air floating it ever so delicately onto the boot.

Ophelia
which one did it though?

Spud
If it was that simple it wouldn't be the postcard puzzle, it'd be the postcard solution, wouldn't it sweetheart.

The pair finish their drinks in sync and as they place them down their hands touch slightly. Ophelia quickly squirms her arm away.

Spud
Oh I'm sorry baby, did I scare ya?

Ophelia
(Weeps) I love you is alls.

Spud
Oh baby, let me take you home then.

Spud walks Ophelia out of the bar.

EXT. MALTESE BAR AND RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Spud and Ophelia wander through the smoky and quiet carpark, hand in hand. They stop at the Local Leather Tour Bus, Ophelia pins Spud against the Van and passionately kisses him.

Ophelia
Where's your car darling, take me.

Spud
(Points to the van he's leaning on) Tour bus.

Ophelia
You drive a van.

Spud
I live in a van.

Ophelia turns her back in disgust.

Spud
With 3 other guys, no dames.

Ophelia runs to the nearby road and starts flagging for a taxi... this is a dead road in the middle of nowhere. Spud cooly strolls over to Ophelia.

Spud
If it's too much for you baby you could have just said.

Ophelia turns and steps forward so that they are almost touching faces.

Ophelia
OH SPUD! I LOVE YA!

Spud turns dramatically. Grabs a metal cigarette case from his inside breast pocket. He pops the case open and in one motion puts a cigarette in mouth then in Ophelias. He then pulls out a mask and in one motion lights both cigarettes.

Spud
Then let me haul you taxicab.

Spud sticks out his arm and whistles with one half of his mouth whilst smoking with the other half.

BEAT

A 1930's New York Taxicab pulls up. The door swings open and Spud ambles Ophelia in the back. Spud closes the door, slaps the roof and the car begins to drive onwards.

Ophelia
(Head out the window screaming) I'll never forget you Rockstar Spud.

Spud turns his back to taxi in the distance and takes a long contemplative toke of his cigarette.

Spud (Inner Monologue)
But I'll forget you by my second promo doll face. 

INT. GREGS HALF PRICE GYM AND WEIGHTS ROOM - MORNING

The shoddiest most out of date, crap, gym ever. Spud lies on a dusty weights bench with his phone to his ear. On the other end of the call is Spud’s mother Doreen.

Doreen
Why aren't we facetiming or skyping? Are you doing drugs?

Spud (Inner Monologue)
Biggest supporter or critic what is this? Am I the mystery who knows?

Doreen
Right love, if you're doing a brooding voiceover for one of your video films then that can stop right this instance mister, do you hear me.

Spud
(Still in deep broody voice) Sorry mum

Doreen
Why's your voice still broody dear? Is there something you're not telling me?

Spud
I might have smoked a bit

Doreen
OH! MY ABSOLUTE CHRIST! DO YOU WANT TO DIE? BECAUSE IF THAT CRAP DOESN'T KILL YER' I BLOODY WILL!

Spud
Shit, I'm sorry mum, I won't do it again.

Doreen
DON'T YOU SWEAR TO ME YOUNG MAN! I KNOW YOU'RE A MAN BUT I CAN STILL PUT YOU OVER MY KNEE, DON'T THINK I WON'T COME TO CANADA AND DO IT IN FRONT OF ALL OF YOUR PISSING FRIENDS! I KNOW WHERE YOU WORK, I SENT YOU A POSTCARD!

Spud (Inner Monologue)
Mum does live in Birmingham. Has she been against me the whole time?

Spud
But how did it get in boot?

Doreen
Do you not think it might have been left in your locker and as you're galavanting in the mirror accidentally knocked it in?

Rockstar Spud sits up on the weight bench, dust flies everywhere, he then hangs up the phone. The aspect ratio returns to normal and full colour returns to the shot.

Spud
Fuck!

Fade out.





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 Scotiabank Arena, filled to the rafters with roaring crowd participants. In an instant pyrotechnics are flaring off around the arena, an assorted combination of the fireworks displays of the last two weeks, 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 Canadian 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 third week in the row, just before Lance Storm can manage his first words.

Christian Cage: Lance Storm needs to learn that you’ve all tuned into every week what is simply an extended edition of the Peep Show - THIS is the Alberta Wrestling Federation and YOU are watching the third premiere of Tuesday Night PrimeTime! I am multi-time wrestling world champion Christian Cage sat next to an extremely monotonous and hopelessly dull Lance Storm. Go, ahead, Lance: bore them!

Storm adjusts his tie before beginning his speech.

Christian Cage: You’re absolutely right, Storm - no one gives a shit and no one wants to hear you! I’ll say it all: tonight is the last night before the biggest night so far out of all the nights in the AWF. We know our World’s Championship finalists, we finalize the entrants into the Provincial title bracket, and have a contract signing all just as some of the promised features for the program. It all starts right now, with the World’s Championship finals being made official!

The show crosses to just the ring from a wide shot via the hard camera. Inside the ring, the apron has been covered by a lush black rug and a thin, dark teak wood office table is sat in the middle. Three microphones and a clipboard with a stack of papers are the only other things, all on the table.



As the lighting pulses through shades of orange and gold, each of the well-hyped Alberta Wrestling Federation fans in attendance get to their feet and exclaim their excitement. Not seen since the announcement of his role within the company, Toronto would be just privy to his first words since Steve Austin’s unexpected interruption and the finals of the World’s Championship tournament determined, and the excitement is in the air. The Commissioner is wearing the cleanest slate grey double-breasted suit unbuttoned, revealing the matching black silk shirt and tie. Both sides of the stage get pandered to.

Mark Beverly: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the commissioner of the Alberta Wrestling Federation: Booker! T!

The scrunchie he wears is thrown into the crowd once he frees his ponytail of dreadlocks, and the pose and pyrotechnic cue is triggered. A nameplate with his credentials flashes as the camera zooms into his wide eyes before he eventually comes to a laugh and slaps the hands of a dozen lucky fans along the walk to the steel steps. When he enters the ring, the lighting slowly morphs back to normal and he takes a microphone in his hand. He stands at the head of the table before raising it to his mouth.

Commissioner Booker
There ain’t much more I gotta say to hype this one. We’re here on AWF PrimeTime, another night full of hard-hitting, punch-swinging, leg-kicking, bell-to-bell action!

The Torontians offer how ready they are for the evening.

Commissioner Booker
Not only that, but we are only eleven days away from Gold Rush, which means we’re only days away from a World’s Champion, baby!

He laughs ecstatically while the crowd bursts again.

Commissioner Booker
That means we got just two left outta that bracket. We gotta make it official, here and now and this is about those two… or maybe, two in the same world where one and one equals three. ‘Cause, it’s funny: I once thought this business was all about the gold, the beef it brings and squashing ‘em by splitting some suckas’ wig.

He combs his dreadlocks back.

Commissioner Booker
See, except, we used to split that fool ourself.

His attention and his body both turn quickly.

Commissioner Booker
Ladies and gentlemen: Max Ironside!



The lights flash wildly enough to cause seizures and Max walks out to the top of the ramp, bobbing his head to the chugging guitar of Five Finger Death Punch's Back For More. He's dressed business casual in a pair of black jeans and a blue button-down shirt and there's a bright smile on his face as he slaps hands with the fans at ringside while jogging to the ring, zig-zagging back and forth down the ramp so he doesn't neglect anyone. Finally, he climbs the steps and gets into the ring, immediately walking over and holding out his good hand to Commissioner Booker to shake. It's awkward because it's his left hand, but the two make it work, the Handicapped Hero being dwarfed by the man standing in front of him. He reaches out and takes one of the microphones from the table, lifting it to his lips.

Max Ironside
Commissioner. Holy... whoa. It's such an honor to meet you. I'm a fan from way back. I mean, I have almost all your matches on tape, even the ones when you were tagging with Stevie Ray. Five-time heavyweight champion... you're so awesome. I can't believe I'm standing in the ring with you right now, about to sign a contract for the biggest match of my career.

Commissioner Booker
Believe it, sucka.

Awkwardly, Max is still shaking his hand and only then realizes that he's doing it, finally letting go with a sheepish laugh and shake of his head. 

Max Ironside
Sorry. I'm just a little overwhelmed right now.

The crowd breaks into a "YOU DESERVE IT! YOU DESERVE IT" chant, and Max looks for a moment like he's about to break down and cry. Instead he straightens his shoulders and looks The Commissioner in the eye. 

Max Ironside
I promise, right here and now. To you, sir... to the powers that be and to everyone in these seats tonight and watching around the world... I'm not gonna let you down. This championship, this honor, it means everything to me. I've worked long and hard--

He's cut off by the familiar sound of Priscilla Kelly's theme music, reluctantly turning to look up the ramp for his opponent's arrival.



For a second, Max tries to speak over the sound of Oh Bondage screaming through the PA, but quickly realises how useless his efforts are. Out from the back, flanked by her leashed Albert, struts Hell's Favourite Harlot, a beaming grin on her face. She already has a mic in her hand, and her music fades down as she speaks into it during her calm strut to the ring.

Priscilla Kelly
Oh, little Maxi-Pad, tone it down a little will ya? Don't get your little T-Rex arm in a twist. 'Ooh I love you Booker! Ooh I love the AWF! Ooh I promise I'll do this and that and this and-' BLARGH! You sound like the simps in my inbox. It's rare something can make me throw up in my mouth Maxi, but you are getting mighty close.

The crowd start booing as Priscilla climbs into the ring. She looks over at Booker.

Priscilla Kelly
You're out Commissioner now are you? Hmm. I preferred Stevie Ray. And for the record, Stevie Ray fucking sucks.

The crowd boo, as a smug Priscilla turns away from Booker, and comes face to face with Max Ironside.

Priscilla Kelly
You've worked long and hard have you? Guess what, doesn't matter. So have I. Effort, and passion, and work ethic, it doesn't matter to these people. They'll boo you as easy as they boo me no matter how much work you put it.

A few 'WHAT?' chants pipe up in the crowd. They're ignored by Priscilla and Max, but Booker looks a tad unsettled.

Priscilla Kelly
The reason you're getting cheered by these marks, is the pathetic grovelling, and the goodie two shoes attitude, and the playing by the bullshit rules they set in front of us whilst they sit on their arses doing nothing, whilst we bust ours.

More 'WHAT?' chants, louder this time. Priscilla ignores them, and eyes Max up and down.

Priscilla Kelly
You could be something Maxi-Pad. You're talented, and driven, and very uniquely scrumptious. Oh, and you very clearly have good film taste.

'WHAT?'

Priscilla Kelly
But you're too busy trying to impress these idiots.

'WHAT?'

Priscilla Kelly
Who don't realise that they're proving my point with these stupid 'WHAT?' chants.

'WHAT?'

Priscilla Kelly
Who do you think you're hurting more with these chants? Me, who's made it clear how little I care for what you have to say? Or Booker, the Commissioner, who had a run in with the man who made that chant famous last week? Or the product itself, that you claim to care about, by trying to steamroll a whole segment of the show so you can feel some sort of stupid, insignificant thrill?

'WHAT?'

Priscilla Kelly
Of course. Maxi, do you know why I have Albert fight for me? I proved last week that I can get the job done myself, that's not the problem. It's because I refuse to put my body on the line, and show any semblance of gratitude for the cesspool of people that surrounds us. Those who watch us risk our lives for their entertainment, and then go away with nothing but criticism. Who can't let us have anything in return, even simple moments like these where all I want to do is talk to you, competitor to competitor, opponent to opponent, positions we've worked to get ourselves into, to show you respect before our match, but even then… they have to make it about themselves. We give them everything, and they can't let us have anything.

'WHAT?'

Priscilla Kelly
So Maxi-Pad, when I see a talent like you, who's worked his way from the bottom with a fucked up, shriveled little wotsit arm, and gotten to a point like this one, and then I see you act like you're in some sort of debt to these fuckers, it makes me feel sick. Sick to my stomach.

'WHAT?'

Priscilla Kelly
I've free'd many from their clutches Maxi, and let me tell you, those people are all so much happier. Free of the burden of caring about the constant and unrelenting judgement from the people weaker and less important than us. And I can free you too Maxi-Pad. It's just something to think about, take your time. And when you've come to the right decision…

Priscilla pulls a Golden Ticket out of her brassiere, and subtly hands it over to Max with a cheeky smile.

Priscilla Kelly
Just give your Golden Ticket a read little Charlie.

Max raises an eyebrow as he reads the Golden Ticket, which has a phone number scrawled on it, presumably Priscilla's.

Priscilla Kelly
There's always a place for you. And hey, maybe if you trade that bitch of yours in too…

Priscilla applies violet lipstick to her lips, before pursing them, and winking at Max.

Priscilla Kelly
I'll show you what I can do to your everlasting gobstopper.

The Handicapped Hero looks stunned, almost horrified as her words sink in. His gaze drops from watching his new adversary's lips to the shiny Golden Ticket in his hand. Slowly, deliberately, he crumples it in his fist and when he looks up again, his expression has shifted to disgust.

Max Ironside
I know my place. Ironically, it's as far away from you as possible.

He lets the crumpled ticket fall from his hand, daring her to do something about the blatant insult. When she simply stares him down with a bemused smile, Max takes a step closer to her, bringing himself toe-to-toe with Hell's Favorite Harlot.

Max Ironside
In fact, I know a lot of things, Priscilla. And so do they.

The crowd pops and the Michigan native nods.

Max Ironside
I didn't come this far to only come this far. I didn't claw my way to the top to join forces with someone who's made a mockery of EVERYTHING I hold dear. You wanna talk Roald Dahl imagery? You're the bad egg, Veruca. You're the one who needs to watch what you put in your mouth, watch what this greed and narcissism is going to get you.

He stares at her for a few seconds, his eyes narrowed. He takes a step back, his voice raised over the crowd growing restless.

Max Ironside
There's no lifetime supply of chocolate-covered glory for cheaters, Priscilla. I'm gonna make sure of that.

He picks up one of the pens sitting next to the clipboard and signs his name with a flourish. Throwing the pen down, he turns his back on them both and exits the ring, clearly removing himself from the scene before he does something he'll surely regret. The camera cuts back to Priscilla & the Prince: Albert scathing at the rejection while Kelly nods her head as a smile that feels just a bit forced emerges. Albert leans against the top rope, staring down Max Ironside as he keeps toward the back, Kelly keeping this annoyed nod as she walks toward the table and signs her own name toward the future contest.

She looks up at the commissioner and Booker meets her gaze. A tense staredown is broken by Priscilla deciding what was enough, suddenly leading her dogman out of the ring without another word. The crowd rumbles and sits stirred, slightly unsure of how to feel after the situation got personal quickly. Booker remains in the ring staring in their direction, and the microphone is back to his mouth.

Commissioner Booker
She’s got a point.

‘WHAT?’

Commissioner Booker
Yup.

‘WHAT?’

Commissioner Booker
There it is, right there.

‘WHAT?’

Commissioner Booker
Austin.

The collective ‘WHAT?’ attempted is broken up by the cheers at that prolific last name. Booker turns from facing the stage, now cleared, to the hard camera.

Commissioner Booker
This is the way it’s gonna work: I’m not gonna get punked on my own damn show. I’m not gonna go on Twitter and Instagram each and every day to get nothing but comments and questions on what ‘Austin’s plan’ is. ‘What’s Austin thinking?’ I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out. So between tonight and Gold Rush, I’m ordering Kevin Kelly to send out one of his junior reporters to Texas and Los Angeles to nip this all in the bud.

No ‘WHAT?’ this time, but only excited cheers. That’s the last thing the Commissioner says before Rap Sheet starts up in outro fashion. The commissioner’s demeanor is much different from before, however, with no grins or laughs to be found.

We cross into a vignette. Ruxx pulls up in his garbage truck, into a large landfill site. He steps out of the drivers seat, wearing a full tuxedo, before helping a young attractive lady in a sparkling red dress out of the passenger side. He motions over to a blanket set out on the floor, with a huge candle in the middle of two plates, and a butler off to one side.

Lady
Oooh, very fancy Mr. Rampede.

Ruxx Rampede
Please, call me Ruxonald. Ruxx Rampede is my binman name.

He holds her hand and the pair trod over to the picnic blanket, kicking a big bucket of shit out of the way on there way there. The pair sit down, as the butler tosses some chicken onto their plates from where he stands, before chucking down a few chips as well.

Lady
Oooh, tasty.

Ruxx Rampede
I'm glad I could bring you here Culinda, it's a wonderful spot. Ladies like you deserve only the best.

Lady
Thank you Ruxx, it is indeed a wonderful spot.

They look out across the horizon. It is filled with rubbish and shit. It's a landfill. That's the joke.

Ruxx Rampede
It's nice to take a load off. I've been tense lately. Going in that Redemption Royale, defending my client Big Homunculus, and now facing Rockstar Spud. Holy banoly, it's a spicy meatball!

Culinda or whatever the fuck I've named her nods. She understands.

Ruxx Rampede
Been getting cheated out of those wins since I got into AWF. First Priscilla and then Barron Boneius, foul play got the best of me. I know Spud wouldn't do that, he's a good kid. But if I lose to him, I've got no excuse you know.

Culinda
You'll always be a big handsome chocolate binman. No one can take that away from you.

Ruxx gives her a happy smile.

Ruxx Rampede
I can't wait to rail you up the ass after this date.

Culinda smiles. Ruxx notices something off to the side. He gets up and moves over to where he saw it, inside a destroyed toilet, a little cartoon centipede jumps out. It starts dancing on the toilet seat, doing a little tap dance. Ruxx and Culinda clap along, as the centipede dances. A bird swoops down and snatches up the centipede. Ruxx and Culinda cry as they watch it get chewed up by the bird in the sky.

Ruxx Rampede
That centipede could dance.

Ruxx looks back inside the toilet, and spots a note. He reaches his arm in, and grabs the note, before pulling it out and looking at it. The note reads 'remember that day Ruxx'. Ruxx gulps.

Culinda
What day? What does the note mean Ruxx? WHAT DOES IT MEAN!?!?

Ruxx Rampede
You know the day.

Culinda starts to cry.

Ruxx Rampede
And so does Cthulu.

That takes us to our first break.

---

The following exclusive preview of ‘Rage 25/8’ is brought to you by iHeartRadio.

[PLAY]

Raging Dead
Goooood morning, afternoon, night! Whatever time of day this hits you… hello and welcome to episode 103 of Rage 25/8! Sorry this took so long to record. Luckily the folks at iHeartRadio are relaxed on the schedule. What a wild week, huh? I won on Monday in Omaha… I lost on Tuesday in Montreal… and then I spent two days going over plans for our NEW training facility! Today should be a day to rest… but I'm back on the mic to discuss my upcoming week.

First… let's go back to Montreal for a minute. You all saw the main event of AWF PrimeTime? If not, you missed out on something special. I was out in all my raging glory… against two of the fastest rising stars today. Max Ironside and Athena fought hard… and I want to congratulate them both for their efforts. Max did the unexpected and secured his spot in the finals of the AWF World's Championship Tournament… but Athena did something even more impressive: she pinned me.

Despite being pinned shortly after by Max… Athena did something that will be remembered for some time. She pinned me. No, that didn't ultimately make her the winner… but it DID open the eyes of the AWF fans that something truly special just happened. Athena has all eyes on her now… despite being eliminated from the tournament. So… what's next for Athena? She has the opportunity to repeat history! Did you see the lineup for AWF PrimeTime next week? At the Scotiabank Arena in Toronto, Ontario… Athena has an AWF Provincial Championship Qualifying Match against… drum roll please… RAGING DEAD!

What a shocking turn of events! Both cast out of the World's Championship Tournament at the same time! Now we face off one week later in another tournament! It's gotta be fate that has brought us together again. Athena has already proved to the world that she CAN defeat me. Now she has to prove to herself that she can beat me again. Is it possible to get two consecutive wins over me? Absolutely. Is it probable that she will get the job done? Unlikely. Now that I know exactly who I'm up against… I can adapt my gameplan and be more adept when I head into Toronto on Tuesday.

Last week… Athena didn't back down from a fight. She came in hoping for a war… and that's exactly what she got. While she escaped with her limbs intact… what are the odds of that happening again? Next week will be very different than this previous match. My sole focus will be on battling one person, rather than two. That makes this situation less than ideal for Athena. While she is headstrong and probably still gleaming from her victory on Tuesday. No, she didn't win the match itself… but obtaining a pinfall against a thirty year veteran like myself counts for something. Right?

Her valiant effort in the tournament got her a qualifying match in another… and against the guy she just pinned! This didn't happen by accident or coincidence. Our match next week is necessary to see if that pinfall was a fluke. As hard as she fought last time… she's going to have to amplify that for our next meeting. I'm not as easy to defeat a second time. Let's shift gears and discuss the AWF Provincial Championship Tournament.

The qualifying round began this past week at PrimeTime and it featured a plethora of AWF looking to make a name for themselves. Of the talent who qualified… I am most looking forward to seeing what Christina King has in store for us all. Of course my opinion is bias because she's my niece… but objectively believe that she is a top shelf talent who will be unstoppable here in AWF. Whomever she is up against… good luck.

Now, who do I have as a special guest, you didn't ask? Today's special guest is WWE Hall of Famer… Bret 'The Hitman' Hart! Hello there---

[STOP]

Suddenly the power goes out at CCWA&ICE and everything goes dark… obviously. He slams his fists on the desk in anger and removes the headset. Into the office walks his amazing wife Sara.

Sara
The whole block is dark. I'm not sure how much further it goes. Did you get to talk to Bret?

Nathan
I had him on the Skype call, ready to go. Then… this…

Sara
That sucks. I'm sure you can get him back on sometime. How are numbers looking?

Nathan
They're okay. The podcast game is tough. The market is crowded with every shmuck with a microphone. It's all about finding a hook. I'm relying heavily on the belief that people still remember me.

Sara
Of course they do. You work for two of the best wrestling promotions in North America. And you've been in the public eye for thirty years. It would be hard for them to forget about you.

Nathan
I guess. Being around forever is different than being relevant though.

Sara
Then make them remember you. Any outlet you have… make them hear you. You don't use Twitter enough. That's an easy way to get a message out. People are obsessed with Twitter. Use that.

Nathan
I mostly use Twitter to post GIFs.

Sara
I know. That's not going to tell your followers anything important. Tell them about Action Wrestling. Tell them about AWF. Tell them anything.

Nathan
Okay, okay, geez!

Sara
Sorry. I get worked up about Twitter. I finally figured out the login for @sara_pettis. It was pissing me off.

Nathan
I gave up trying to recover mine… so I made a new one… @ragingned.

Sara
I still think that sounds silly.

Nathan
Every combination of Raging Dead was taken… so I went with my middle name.

Sara
Hahahahah! I always forget your middle name is Ned!

Nathan
Yeah… well… Bret's middle name is Sergeant. I Wikipedia'd him to get some odd questions for him.

Sara
Were you going to ask him why he hasn't returned my call?

Nathan
You told me not to interfere.

Sara
Oh now you start listening to me?!

Nathan
I'm always listening. Sometimes I just don't… remember… stuff…

Sara
I know, I know.

Nathan
Why don't you come to Toronto with me and talk to him in person? It can't hurt to put yourself out there. This roster is expanding every week. You never know when a spot could open up. There's so much fresh talent on this roster for you to mix it up with. They'd be lucky to have you.

Sara
First thing's first. I have to find my passport.

---

The return is a vignette. A 1997 Red Ford Ranger rips down the highway. Trent playing a wild air guitar as the opening riff to Sharp Dressed Man by ZZ Top blasts over the radio.

Chuck Taylor
(Shouting over the radio, still air riffing) Why are we even doing this? I don’t see the point.

Trent Beretta
(Shouting over the radio) I told you, we need to get our bodies in the best shape of our-

Trent looks over at Chuck who isn’t paying attention and back on his guitar. Trent reaches over and takes the air guitar from Chuck.

Trent Beretta
(Holding the air guitar with one hand) Look, if we’re going to

Trent, noticing he’s holding a fake guitar, just drops his hand. He turns down the radio and continues driving.

Trent Beretta
If we’re going to beat Carrot Top and Bald Bottom, we need to get an extra workout in. So I made a call.

Chuck Taylor
Okay that takes care of Priscilla, but what about the other guy?

Trent Beretta
What about him? I don’t think he can even do much. How can they even fit his chair on the ring apron?

Chuck Taylor
What are you talking about?

Trent Beretta
His wheelchair? I doubt he will be an issue, he can’t even reach our faces.

Chuck Taylor
Du-dude. He’s not that kind of handicapped, he’s not in a wheelchair.

Trent Beretta
...but his name is Iron Side.

Chuck Taylor
He’s not in a wheelchair. He can punch us just fine. He has cerebral palsy.

Trent Beretta
Like Magneto?

Chuck Taylor
Jesus christ, you’re thinking of Charles Xavior and no, he can’t read our thoughts.

Trent Beretta
(Shrugging and turning the car into a parking lot) Well I’m just glad I called in this training session then.

Trent parks as both men hop out. Trent pushes his seat forward, accessing the back seats and grabbing two bags. As he does this several empty bottles of tropicana orange juice fall out of the car and onto the ground.

Trent Beretta
(to himself as he tosses a bag to Chuck) I told him to clean this mess up.

Trent and Chuck walk up to the front door of a nice estate home. Trent knocks and a hoarse voice calls out from afar.

Voice
It’s open guys!

They open the door and walk in. Inside they are immediately greeted with walls of old photos, trophies, certificates, and various title belts. They walk up to the largest case, on top is a large, but dented, big gold World Heavyweight Championship, various WCW tag titles and mid card titles.

Chuck Taylor
One day man, one day.

Trent Beretta
One day for what?

Chuck Taylor
A championship!

Trent Beretta
We’ve got those already.

Chuck Taylor
Well yeah we’ve both had tag championships, and I’ve had singles championship. You haven’t though. Remember when you couldn’t beat me for the PWG title? Remember?

Chuck slaps Trent on the chest and walks away, leaving Trent there as he glares into the titles. Staring into the big gold belts, some rusted, others kept polished, a strong, yet wrinkly hand grabs Trent on the shoulder causing him to jump as he spins around. Trent looks down than back up at the battle worn man.

Diamond Dallas Page
(reaching out his hand) Sup brother?

Trent just stares at his hand in a daze, eventually snapping out of it and embracing DDP.

Diamond Dallas Page
You ready? Sounds like your friend sure is.

Chuck Taylor
(Yelling from afar) It’s me! It’s me! It’s Chuck-ie-T!

Trent laughs as both men walk around the corner. Turning into a doorway they walk into a large empty studio with dark hardwood floors. Several floor mats are laid out in an organized row. At the front of the room is a raised platform, large screens and a speaker system.In big neon letters reads “DDP YOGA” Most of the mats are taken, Chuck is on the opposite side standing on the mat aggressively waiving over Trent like a child after seeing his friend for the first time since summer break. Trent takes the mat next to Chuck.

Chuck Taylor
(Whispering to Trent) DUuuuuUude. Look who it issss

Trent looks across the room, propped up against a rail is a haggerred man with a scruffy haircut and a half formed handlebar styled mustache.

Chuck Taylor
It’s Jake Roberts! Do you think he brought his snake?

Trent Beretta
Doesn’t look like the Jake Roberts I know.

Jake Roberts
What was that?

Trent & Chuck
Nothing sir

Diamond Dallas Page
You guys head to the backroom and get changed into your workout clothes, I’ll get started with our regulars.

Trent and Chuck shuffle off to the back room with their bags.

Diamond Dallas Page
(Talking softly to his class) Alright guys, these two are...not the shiniest forks in the drawer, if you get my drift. But they have the enthusiasm, which is important. So, if you bare with me, we’re going to start back with the basics today.

Some groans come from the group as Trent and Chuck walk back out. Chuck is wearing a black tank top with big white letters that reads Property of the B.F.F. Squad. Trent comes out in a white shirt with the sleeves cut off, the front reads the same as Chucks, while the back says “HUG ME, PAY ME!” Both men return to their mats as the group scoffs at them.

Diamond Dallas Page
Alright, like any good workout, we must start with a good warm up. Chuck, why don’t you get us started with some music to warm up to.

Chuck walks over to the speaker system, plugging in his phone and scrolling through his music. Everybody else is standing around starting basic arm and leg stretches as a loud guitar riff comes on the speakers. Screamo singing begins as a man with a high pitch voiced shouts.

“Welcome Home” by King Diamond
GRANDMA WHAT WAS IT LIIIIIIKE. TO BE ON THE HOLIDAY SIIIIGN

As the music plays Trent and Chuck are banging their eggs, flailing their arms all around and in windmill motions.

Diamond Dallas Page
NO

Chuck cuts the music off.

Diamond Dallas Page
Trent...how about you try something.

Trent walks over, and scrolls for music. A smooth deep voice comes out from the speakers as Trent shuffle dances in place, bopping his shoulders up and down, giving the occasional Michael Jackson leg kick.

“Miami” by Will Smith
Party in the city where the heat is on, all night, on the beach till the break of dawn. Welcome to Miami

Chuck Taylor
(Shouting) BIENVENIDOS A MIAMI

DDP jumps off the stage and rips the iphone off the cable. He plugs in his own and presses play. He returns to the stage as he rubs his eyes and nose with his fingers in disappointment. “Physical” by Olivia Newton John comes on the speakers. With everybody in place, DDP starts his routine.

Diamond Dallas Page
Alright boys, try and follow along. Everybody else, you know the drill. Plant your feet forward. Hands straight out!

The class reach their arms and hands straight out, fingers spread as wide as possible. Trent and Chuck follow behind slowly, fingers still kept together limply.

Diamond Dallas Page
Now raise your hands straight up, taking in a deep breath. Once they’re above your head connect your thumbs and index fingers into a diamond. Reach back with your arms straight and fingers connected, as far as you can.

Everybody stretches back, Trent drops his hands to look around at what everybody else is doing.

Diamond Dallas Page
I said still connected!

Trent scurries his arms back upwards to the correct position.

Diamond Dallas Page
Deap breathe, hold one...two...three!

On three the whole class throws their arms down yelling BANG in unison with DDP. Trent and Chuck follow them softly saying bang together.

Diamond Dallas Page
So far so good guys, let’s move on.

[SomeTime Passes By]

DDP is down on the floor with his class who are on the mat stretching, he’s pacing back and forth as he gives instructions.

Diamond Dallas Page
Good, good! Deep breathe in, hold it….Now out.

Chuck is on his side, calmly following the stretches while his body is properly twisted matching the others.

Chuck Taylor
I’m so glad we did this Trent! I’m loving it!...Trent?

Chuck bends his neck over to look at Trent who is in a tangled mess barely able to keep flat.

Trent Beretta
(troubled breathing) H...help

DDP approaches Trent’s sorry state.

Diamond Dallas Page
Looks like you’re having some issues. Jake! Show him how it’s done.

Jake Roberts walks up, he gets on one knee, putting one hand on Trent’s lifted shoulder, and another on his waist. He begins to push Trent’s shoulder down in an effort to line it up with the mat like everybody else.

Trent Beretta
(Screaming) I don’t want to die

Jake Roberts
Oh, c’mon you little baby, you’re a wrestler! You’re supposed to be tougher than this!

Jake gets up leaving Trent in a knot.

Diamond Dallas Page
Good! Good! Now, pinfall position!

On that cue everybody released and returns to flat on their backs legs fully stretched out to normal. As Chuck returns to the position that DDP ordered them to, he looks over at Trent to still see him in a knot, not being able to free himself. He looks over at Chuck.

Trent Beretta
(In a strained voice) Chuck...please...help me…

He manages to stretch out a hand towards his Best Friend. Chuck tries to reach out as far as he can to grab it.

Chuck Taylor
I can’t reach. Try to stretch further

A single tear rolls down Trents face.

Trent Beretta
(Straining his voice even further) Please Chuck...I can’t go on much longer…

The two don’t realize, but now the whole class has now stopped, and everyone's eyes are on the pair, who are making pretty big fools of themselves. DDP looks on, and shakes his head at the duo before walking over, and pushing Trent with his foot freeing him of the small package he somehow applied on himself. Trent stands up after being freed.

Trent Beretta
Hey man, thanks for helping me out there, I managed to get myself into a real pickle there. If I was stuck any longer I-

DDP cuts him off.

Diamond Dallas Page
Alright, if you two can’t take this seriously, you’re done. Go hit the steam room for a bit.

Chuck, still on his back, holds his hand out to Trent, who helps him up.

Chuck Taylor
You got a muthafuckin’ steam room here? Dude, that's sweet. Let’s go check it out.

He slaps Trent on the chest, then proceeds to grab his gym bag, and heads out into the hallway, followed by Trent. They walk a little ways down the hallway until they reach a door on their right. The two men stop at the door. They hear what sounds like a fog machine on the other side, as well as the odd “Ooh” and “Ahh”. They both press their ears to the door.

Trent Beretta
Think this is it?

Chuck Taylor
I don’t know man. Sounds like there might be some Grey Boys in there.

Trent Beretta
Grey Boys?

Chuck Taylor
Ya, you know, those alien guys, the ones that are always grey and have big heads. They always want to kidnap people and stick probes up their butts.

Trent looks at Chuck unimpressed.

[Trent Beretta
I don’t think DDP hides aliens in his house.

Before they have time to react, the door swings open, and smoke pours out from the room. The two back up in shock from almost falling into the room, and then a couple of hands appear from inside the smoke doing the Spooky Fingers. The tip of a toothpick appears as the Voice of Scott Hall is heard by the two.

Scott Hall
Hey Yo, I got me a couple of Broads in here, so scram kids.

Scott flicks his tooth pick at Chuck, then closes the door as he retreats back in. Chuck and Trent look at each other. Chuck points to the door with his thumb
.
Chuck Taylor
Was that…

Trent Beretta
Yup.

The two try to clear their heads with a quick shake, before proceeding down the hallway. A couple more doors down the reach another door that has a sign reading.

CHANGE ROOM AND SAUNA

Chuck Taylor
This must be it.

They open the door and head inside. 2 arrows on the wall are pointing to opposite directions, one reading *MALES* and the other reading *FEMALES*. The head the way indicating males, and reach a gym style change room. The both plop their bags on a bench and begin to change.

Chuck Taylor
Hey man, go change around the corner. I don’t want you seeing my little pecker or anything.

Trent Beretta
What's the matter, a little insecure?

Chuck Taylor
Not insecure, it’s just things might get weird between us, know what I mean.

Trent Beretta
Ya man, sure, I get it.

Trent walks to the other side of the room. Eventually the two meet at the door to the sauna. Trent pushes the ON button before the two head in, wearing nothing but white towels. The both sit down, tilt their heads back, and close their eyes. After a few minutes of silence, Chuck speaks up.

Chuck Taylor
Hey man?

Trent Beretta
Mhm?

Chuck Taylor
Is what we are doing worth all of this?

Trent Beretta
What do you mean?

Chuck Taylor
I mean, we drive across an entire country, almost lose one half of the Best Friends when Orange went missing, now we just got yelled at by DDP while trying to do Yoga. We are about to have a match against Some weird BDSM couple and a guy with a disability. We are hurt all the time. And all for what? We don’t have much to show for it all yet.

Trent Beretta
I guess we do it all for the fans?

Chuck Taylor
Nah, don’t give me that shitty answer, thats what all the Vanilla Baby Faces say. I want a new answer, one with meaning.

Trent takes a moment to think of a new answer.

Trent Beretta
I guess we are all doing it for each other, right? I mean, yeah, the roads are long, but I get to travel with my best friend. I hurt too, but I hurt alongside my best friend. We have to take on weird folk sometimes, but I get to take them on with my best friend. That’s what I'm doing all this for, because I get to do it with you and Cassidy, my two Best Friends in the whole entire North America and galaxy beyond.

Chuck Taylor
Thanks man. I guess that’s why I’m doing all this too. I don’t think i'd be able to get through all this alone. I need you and Orange here to help me through it all.

The two sit there in silence for another moment.

Chuck Taylor
Hey Trent?

Trent Beretta
Whats up?

Chuck Taylor
I love you man.

Trent Beretta
I love you too.

The two men turn and hug each other. Real, brotherly love is fueling the hug. All of a sudden, the door to the sauna bursts open, and Scott Hall is at the door, holding another white towel.

Scott Hall
All right boys, time to beat it, the ladies want to use the Sauna.

He starts winding up and whipping at the two with the towel. They scream and shriek in pain as they run past Scott, both getting hit a couple of times with his towel. Scott Hall is doing his trademark “OOOoooOOOooo” the whole time. They sprint back into the change room, grab their bags, and run out the door, not bothering to get changed, just trying to get out as fast as they can. They head out the door and back into the hallway, They slip on the floors a couple of times as they try to get out of the house as fast as possible, trying to head out of the front door as fast as possible. The run past the door leading to the Yoga room, where the class is still going. DDP just sees them sprint past the door in a hurry.

Diamond Dallas Page
Hey, what are you doing?

Trent shouts back

Trent Beretta
Gotta go bro, thanks for the session!

Chuck reaches the front door first, just before they are about to get outside, Trent hesitates. He turns back to the display carrying various action figures and title belts. He goes to grab the WCW TV Title off of the shelf, but he has one hand on his bag, and another on the towel he is wearing. Thinking quickly, he drops the towel, and then grabs the title and a DDP action figure.

Chuck Taylor
What are you doing? We gotta go!

Trent Beretta
I know, but we gotta grab something for Orange.

He now holds the title to cover his crotch and runs out the door. The two jump into the truck as fast as possible. Trent scrambles for the keys, jams them into the ignition, and peels out of the driveway. They rip down the lane out of the property, with "Bad To The Bone" blaring over the radio. The arena crossfades into view.



Christian Cage: The Love Child of a Cracked-Out Tina Turner and Peter Dinklage! Can’t lie to ya, Storm: I’ve fallen in love with this little dude in the last few weeks. I think tonight’s his night!

The first wrestling entrance of the night is welcomed with a standing ovation. Arms spread and a smile on his face, Rockstar Spud looks not only confident but focused. As the camera walks up to a closeup shot, the nameplate flashing, Spud makes his declaration: ‘Tonight it all turns around!’

Mark Beverly: The following AWF Provincial Championship qualifying match is set for one fall. Coming down the aisle, from the Backseat of the Tour Bus, weighing one hundred forty one pounds: the ROCKSTAR! SPUD!

Inside the ring, he rewards the positive crowd with four turnbuckles worth of taunting, until the Bon Jovi classic fades out.



The same sort of response is given to Ruxx Rampede, who is quickly into the arena with his garbage truck backing up along the side of the stage. Expected to be driving the machine, everyone is surprised when he Sonic rolls down from the roof suddenly from seemingly nowhere before Sonic roll-jumping onto the ramp. His nameplate flashes as soon as he successfully lands in perfect Power Ranger/indie wrestling vanilla midget fashion.

Mark Beverly: His opponent, weighing two hundred seventy pounds-- this is the Binman of Boynton Beach: RRRRRRRRUXXXXX! RAMMM! PEEEEEEEDE!

He begins barrel/Sonic rolling down the ramp, the last rotation permitting just enough momentum for a kip-up into an amazing vertical leap up and over the top rope. To assure a safe landing, another roll is employed upon gravity defeating the superb athleticism on display - so is the necessary evil of life. Back on his feet, his right hand immediately reaches toward Rockstar Spud who doesn’t hesitate to shake it out of obvious reverence and respect for the showcase.

Ding!

Just then, they break the shake and Ruxx attempts a clothesline. Rockstar has the reflexes to duck this, run for the ropes, and right away take Rampede down with a springboard crossbody, grabbing both legs with the fall. Referee Al Trundy’s new replacement, Emerson Fofão, is quickly down for the cover despite the two Dwarven Chokeslams suffered just seven days ago.

Emerson Fofão: ONE!...............




















T--

Lance Storm: A fast start by both men, and that’s our new referee Emerson Fofão, who did indeed endure Big Homunculus’ wrath last week.

Both men are up but before long Rockstar Spud is tilt-a-whirling over and over around Ruxx before catching his neck in a reverse frankensteiner and sending the big man back down. Rampede Sonic rolls up and charges back toward his opponent only to be caught on the jaw with a shotgun dropkick. This time, Rampede can’t help his body rolling out of the ring but is able to catch his landing with a standing foot.

Lance Storm: Rockstar Spud getting that first advantage, clearly.

Around the ringpost and back into the ring, Spud attempts a flying forearm smash that is ducked. On his come-up, he’s back to the mat after a clubbing lariat. The Frontman can’t bounce back up like Rampede was able to, but he’s sat up and attempting to pull himself up. Ruxx allows it and the two initiate a collar-and-elbow that is quickly scooped up by Rampede into a slam.

Lance Storm: Rampede off the ropes - leg drop!

Emerson Fofão: ONE!.........


























TWO!.....

KICKOUT

Christian Cage: C’mon, Spud, you were doing great! You can’t let the garbage guy get you!

Spud does everything to get to his feet at the same as Ruxx, but is still obvious groggy despite his success, great for Rampede’s gutkick and Irish whip into the ropes. The Trash Collector attempts another lariat, but the Tour Bus Terror slides under his legs, rebounds off the other set of ropes, and goes for yet another springboard crossbody.

Christian Cage: Ah shit the trash trick caught him! Swinging STO!

Emerson Fofão: ONE!.........


























TWO!.....







KICKOUT

Ruxx continues to allow Rockstar to get his feet naturally, but he doesn’t waste time swinging a blow to the jaw when he’s there. The legs wobble, another blow forces him back and to grab up on the nearest ropes for balance. A gutkick ruins the grip, and another punch sends him into the corner. Ruxx grabs Spud and sends him with a hard whip diagonally. When Spud’s body hits the turnbuckle after the extra momentum, his body crumbles to the ground.

Christian Cage: Look at Ruxx, the binman bastard! He’s gonna get caught like Raging Dead did by giving Spud all this time.

Lance Storm: Y’know, you’ve been watching too much Barron Boneius footage.

Spud is to his feet but leaned against the turnbuckle when Rampede charges. Rockstar moves out the way, legs between the top and middle ropes just in time. As his body springs back, Spud catches him with two boots to the face.

Lance Storm: Looks familiar, doesn’t it, Cage?

Christian Cage: I told you this guy was great!

The Garbage Truck with a Jet Engine seems to be running low on fumes all of the sudden and the Pint-Sized Pariah is to the top. Crowd members rise to their feet as Rockstar measures - then the jump: missile dropkick that lands in the neck, sending Ruxx flying and to the mat. Spud crawls to the cover.

Emerson Fofão: ONE!.........






















TWO!















KICKOUT

Spud is much less worried about giving Rampede time, keeping up with blow after blow before bouncing off the ropes and coming back with another dropkick, this one right to the face. Rampede rolls under the ring and begins to pull himself up by the second rope. The cerebral Rockstar Spud is measuring again and is springboarding for a triangle dropkick.






BUT RUXX TURNS IT INTO A SUDDEN CLOTHESLINE FROM THE OUTSIDE! The way his body bounces makes Rockstar roll to the center of the ring. Resilient after the last two weeks, Spud is forcing himself back up again as Ruxx, this time, measures. He puts his athleticism on display once again, as he leaps over the top and barrels a flying shoulder block, sending Spud’s body twisting up and backwards before landing awkwardly on the mat. Rampede recovers just enough in time for a leg hook.

Emerson Fofão: ONE!...........





























TWO!.........













TH--

KICKOUT

Rampede is back up, a focused binman indeed, and bounds off the ropes before hopping into the air and back down with an elbow drop. Another pin.

Emerson Fofão: ONE!.......





























TWO!












TH---

KICKOUT

Lance Storm: You’ll notice those nearfalls are getting closer as these falls keep dropping.

Spud’s get up is certainly slow and it seems Ruxx has given up on the respectable waiting. The smaller man is scooped onto the bigger’s shoulder and driven back to the mat with an apron-rumbling powerslam. Outside hook of the leg.

Emerson Fofão: ONE!..........






















TWO!......




























THR----

KICKOUT

Rampede looks slightly frustrated but for only a split second, then gets to his feet and plants his feet in stalking position. The ropes are used to get Spud up, and he turns to be caught up by the Binman Bearhug! Wait, no - Spud wraps his legs around Ruxx’s and is able to just slip under the grip and through the legs again, bringing the big man down to one knee in the process. A hurricanrana-DDT is quickly hooked up, the force springing Rampede back up to where he was except even less conscious and before long Spud is back off the ropes behind the trashman and driving his head down with a legdrop-bulldog. The hook of the leg.

Emerson Fofão: ONE!..........

































TWO!.......













TH--

KICKOUT

Rampede rolls up while Spud is off the ropes yet again, the spinning kick he sends ducked before coming off the ropes again to duck a Ruxx big boot.

Christian Cage: Pele kick! Spud hits it outta nowhere! Rampede isn’t even stirring after that one!

Something comes over Spud that gets him scaling the top rope at a pace we hadn’t yet seen in the night. He wastes no time, seeing the man finally down and not going anywhere, and is off as soon as he’s got the right footing: FIVE-STONE SPUD SPLASH! And this time there are no knees! It lands! As Rampede’s legs pop up on the impact, Spud bearhugs both of them.

Christian Cage: He caught it this time! That’s gotta be it!

Emerson Fofão: ONE!..........
























TWO!..........
































THREE!

DING DING DING!

When the music starts, he glances around, and it all settles in, Rockstar Spud notices the full capacity audience never sat down from the moment he entered the arena. His bottom lip begins to quiver as he kneels on the apron, Emerson coming over to reach for his wrist.

Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, advancing to the first round at Gold Rush: the ROCKSTAR! SPUD!

For the first time ever, the announcement is made and the hand is raised. He can’t help but scream a highly appreciative ‘MUUUUM!’ before running toward the turnbuckle and soaking in the welcome cheers for the hard-earned winner. Ruxx is at this point walking up the ramp, with his hand over his abdomen but the other up with a proud thumbs up. The camera cuts to the ring to show Spud taking his time basking in his first victory in AWF before we’re sent into our next scene.

Rockstar Spud d. Ruxx Rampede in 8:28

Lucy Richards
Tell us how you really feel…

This, the voice of Lucy Richards, semi popular night club DJ says with just a touch of sarcasm. Beside her in the frame is that of Laci Valentine, looking a bit worse for wear. She seems tired and is decked out in a ratty York university sweatshirt, that probably was once a vibrant red but now appeared dusky terracotta. Her long red hair is pulled up in a messy bun. Not at all like the fully made up girl her earlier promos showed. In fact, based on the angle of the camera, she doesn't appear to know she's even being filmed.

Laci Valentine
It's nothing new Luce, I lost. Like I lost against Babelicious and countless others before her. When I first started out, I was winning and then I started facing more ring worn opponents and I couldn't catch a break to save my life. I thought this would be a way to reset the clock.

It is probably a bad idea that Lucy is filming whilst driving but Laci still doesn't seem to notice the camera.

Lucy Richards
You didn't let her just have that win though.

Laci looks at her roommate and rolls her eyes.

Laci Valentine
6 minutes. That's equivalent to a three pump chump.

She makes the crude motion with her hand and then rolls her eyes again.

Laci Valentine
I just feel like an idiot for being so confident when now it will all look like just some bravado I put up. How am I going to be taken seriously now?

Lucy sighs on the other side of the screen.

Lucy Richards
You know you are talented and I bet better people have lasted less time against that crazy bitch. You even got some hits on her that got her down. You have to take the good out of that.

Laci Valentine
I suppose…

Lucy Richards
Come on Lace, you are one of the most confident people I know. You know yourself better than most people our age. I bet you even know yourself better than half the people in your entire company. You know how rare that is? At twenty-four you have your shit together.

Laci continues to look out the window at the moving scenery of Eastern Ontario.

Lucy Richards
Does this mean you're going to quit?

Laci snaps her head around to look at her roommate with fire in her eyes.

Laci Valentine
No. Why do you think that?

Lucy Richards
Oh I dunno, maybe because of this pathetic pity party we're attending?

Laci Valentine
Shut your mouth.

Lucy Richards
Make me.

Laci of course backs down because she valued her and Lucy's lives by not causing a vehicular incident.

Lucy Richards
So then tell me what's next?

Laci Valentine
I'm in a tornado turmoil match. I don't do hardcore matches. Never have. I hate the idea of using weapons and that psycho already threatened me with a knife. If I wanted to purposely get stabbed I'd go down to Jane & Finch. Maybe pick up a hooker with clamydia for good measure. I am completely out of my depth on this one.

Lucy Richards
Who says you can't fight dirty, this one time. It's the whole purpose right? To see what you're willing to do to win?

Laci shakes her head.

Laci Valentine
I just don't believe in using weapons. It's a cop out. It shows that you don't have the real skills necessary to win so you'll resort to slamming someone's head into the ringpost or wacking someone across the back with a chair.

Lucy Richards
Laci, listen to me. You remember that story you told me about your dad…

Laci's eyes take on a look of glassy fire again. "Step-Dad..."

Lucy Richards
Fine, Step Dad. But you remember what you told me you did?

Laci shrugs.

Laci Valentine
I busted his head open with a lamp and kicked him in the balls for good measure.

Lucy Richards
Right, so do you think anyone would call you weak for using that lamp first? No. You did what you had to, to get out of a bad situation. Otherwise he might have hurt you, right?

Laci bites her bottom lip in response.

Lucy Richards
So? This is the same thing. All of those people in this match with you will probably see you as the easiest prey. Despite how hard you worked in that match. This is a situation where you might just have to skull smash and chair whack to survive something you might not normally survive. There is zero shame in that. The point is to survive and to be the one to get a pin. Who knows, maybe that psycho won't even bother with you now because in her mind, she's already better and doesn't think you'll be a threat.

Laci seems to think that over.

Laci Valentine
I'm still not scared of her so much as it would just really suck ass to get stabbed to death. I can think of a hundred better deaths. Like having your ripcord fail after jumping from a plane. Or being mauled by tigers…

Lucy Richards
I dunno Lace, Carol Baskin's hubby didn't get a good death by being eaten by big cats…

Laci stares at her friend before the pair burst into laughter. Once the laughter fades, Lucy speaks.

Lucy Richards
I just hate to see you be so hard on yourself. And to have such strict rules because honestly, the only one that is judging you is yourself.

That seems to sink in for Laci.

Laci Valentine
You know Luce, you can have some wonderful insights for a dumb blonde.

Lucy chuckles.

Lucy Richards
I have my moments and you... miss I'm-only-a-rookie, stop selling yourself short. You went toe-to-toe with your first real baddie here and you lived to tell the tale.

Laci Valentine
I still don't respect her. Definitely don't trust her but she didn't defeat me here.

She taps her head.

Lucy Richards
That's my girl.

Laci smirks, "I thought you didn't swing that way..."

Lucy Richards
Oh shut up.

Laci Valentine
Now it's just the rest of them I'm not sure about. I wonder if there is any point in researching them since nobody seems to like to do that.

Lucy Richards
Don't stop being you just because of one bad apple. Your shtick is research, so do that. Study is what got you your degree, even if it is useless in your current profession.

Laci shakes her head.

Laci Valentine
I didn't do it to get some high paying job. I did it because it was of interest to me. I don't wrestle because it's going to make me rich, however a day is going to come when I am too old to do this and Canada Pension isn't going to support all my sex swings and vibrators, am I right?

Obviously, this is an inside joke so of course the wit and sarcasm will be lost on some.

Lucy Richards
It's nice to see you smile again.

The car pulls into a rest stop.

Laci Valentine
I gotta pee soooo bad…

Laci practically jumps out of the car to run inside. The camera then turns to show the beautiful face of Lucy, who the fans have yet to actually see. Until now.

Lucy Richards
Hi. I'm Lucy Richards. Toronto DJ and obviously BFF to Laci Valentine, you know, the chick who is totally going to kick all your asses. She might not say that herself but I will. Because she's a badass. I know you won't take my word for it, but believe it. Now I'm going to post this and she will totally kill me for it but this video right here is the heart and soul of a girl that never gives up. Sure. Everyone can get sad and disappointed but Laci will never let anything actually defeat her spirit. And that's what all you clowns need to know. It's not all about how long you've been doing this. It's about why and how you're doing it. I may know zilch about wrestling but I know people and no matter what job you're doing there is always going to be someone wanting to step on the backs of the little guys to get ahead. Laci is different. So if you wanna write her off for that? Just try it.

She then gives the camera the peace sign and the screen goes black, to commercial.

---

---

Fade in. The scene is in black and white, the visuals hazy and the sounds muffled. We are inside a large stone hall, towering grey walls, ornate statues and paintings line the walls. The paintings are all of famous people from history but with the faces replaced with bone faces and hoods. At the end of the hall is a large stone door with a skull carved into it. Slowly we close in on the centre of the room were a large rock with the handle of a giant bone hammer protruding from it sword in the stone style rests. From behind the rock emerges Baby Boneius, he looks around six years old. He marvels at the hammer and reaches for its handle.

Daddy Bone (Jolly)
Ho, Ho, Ho, I don't think so

Daddy Bone walks up to Baby Boneius. Daddy Bone looks identical to Barron Boneius but with a tweet jacket, pipe and glasses.

Daddy Bone (With a huge smile and a jolly tone)
They say only those with the darkest of hearts can lift the Skull Smasher from the Stone.[

Baby Boneius looks up to his father.

Baby Boneius
But I do have a dark heart daddy, can't I try?

Daddy Bone kneels down on one knee to look his son in the eyes. He takes out his pipe and points it at the child.



Daddy Bone (Jolly, like Santa)
Oh Boneius you little bastard, if your superior father can't lift the thing what makes you think a disgustingly doughy dimwhit like you could. Why, I bet there's not an evil bone in your body.

Baby Boneius
But dad -

Daddy Bone pokes the boy in the eye with his pipe

Daddy Bone (Just so joyful)
Listen here you little shit, you don't ever speak back to your own dear dad, I'm starting to think your mother was right about you, that you'd be more use to us as volcano fuel.



Daddy Bone gets up and ruffles the top of Baby Boneius's head.

Daddy Bone
Now run along, you're stinking up the room with all your goodness you parasitic wretch.

As the last of the line is muttered the memory fades to black.

Quiet breathing is heard then the sounds of a heart beat monitor. The darkness lifts like two eyes slowly opening. Boneius awakens on a large hospital bed. The room around him is small but full of flowers. Several tubes and machines are hooked up to him. He tries to sit up but is unable to find the strength. The door to the room flies open as a nurse, Annie Lewis, bursts into the room.

Annie:
Careful, careful! I know you must have a lot of questions, I know we do, just try not to, well, move.

Barron Boneius (Weakly)
Where am I?

Annie
A hospital

Barron Boneius
Why?

Annie lets of a small shocked laugh

Annie
Why? Because you flooded your system with some kinda advanced steroid that has our entire lab team pulling all nighters to try and understand.

Barron Boneius
So?

Annie
So...whatever that was, you came down hard, really hard. You've been here since. You, and your friend, Steve?, Snoove? Snovley?

Boneius shrugs.



Annie
Little grey man, carried you in, kept calling you master before he passed out from exhaustion.

Barron Boneius
No idea

Annie
Well, he's the one whose been sending you all these flowers, or rather, stealing them from other rooms and moving them in here.

Barron Boneius
What a boob.

Annie(Playfully)
So you do know him!

Barron Boneius
Sadly.

Annie smiles.

Annie
I have other people to check on, but if you need me just press.

She points to a button on a remote next to his bed. Annie gets up and walks over to the door, Barron Boneius immediately presses the button. She turns and looks down at him.

Barron Boneius
I have a request, LET ME GO YOU NEFARIOUS NIGHTMARE NURSE.

Annie
Ok, sure

She reaches for the tube in his arm, Barron Boneius looks proud of himself.

Annie
I'll just pull this out, you might feel a little sting, a little dizziness, oh and death, you'll feel death.

Boneius looks horrified as Annie pretends to yank out the tube.



Barron Boneius
AHH

He looks over to see the tube still attached.

Barron Boneius
You, you, that, was, EVIL!

Annie
Like I said, if you need me, press, but only if you actually need me.

She walks over to the doorway and stops.

Annie
The other nurses are a bit, on edge about dealing with you, so make sure you ask for Annie if you do need anything. You might be here for a while, so, I look forward to getting to know you better Mister Boneius

Annie leaves as Boneius smiles. In the hospital break room Annie sits with a cup of coffee. On her laptop with headphones in, she's watching Bonieus fight in the ring. The sun is setting outside A figure taps her on the shoulder. She jumps, startled by the figure. She turns and removes her headphones to see, Leslie Jones.

Annie
Jesus, Leslie

Leslie
What?

She points to the image of Boneius on the screen

Leslie
Worried I was some big spooky skeleton man.

Annie
Worried for once I was gonna get some quiet during my break.

Leslie
Ok, Ok, I see how it is

The two laugh




Leslie
How is he? I hear no one else even wants to go near him, since he's been up you've been the only nurse stupid enough to see him. I'm telling you, those two ain't right, that freaky little grey man, is driving me MAD. I was trying to clear a hallway earlier and he runs up to me, I tell him "Not this way", and you know what he does, YOU KNOW WHAT HE DOES, he crawls through ma legs. WHO, DOES THAT. Please tell me he's not that, I don't want you getting a bone going between your legs.

Annie (Playfully)
Haha very clever

Leslie
Did I ever mention I was on SNL

Annie (Sarcastically)
Never

The two smile at each other.

Annie
He seems fine, a bit weird, but-

She spins the laptop to Leslie.

Annie
-have you seen this?

Leslie and Annie both watch a section of the rumble.

Annie
It's fun right?

Leslie
I don't know what you just showed me, You a wrestling fan now?

Annie rolls her eyes

Annie
No, I was just, curious.

Leslie looks at her watch



Leslie
Oh snap, I gotta go.

Annie[
Where are you rushing too, your shifts over isn't it.

Leslie
I'm on Conan tonight, you wanna come?

Annie looks at her laptop.

Annie
I'm gonna stay, but thanks.

Leslie leaves the room. Annie opens the match card and looks at the upcoming fights. Back in the hospital room Boneius is sat up. The sun beating in through an open window. He looks healthier now with fewer tubes in him.  He's in a nice blue jumper.  Annie walks in.

Annie
Morning

Barron Boneius
Can I go now?

Annie
I dunno, can you feel your legs yet.

Barron Boneius
No.

Annie
Then you have your answer.

Annie picks up a stethoscope and walks over to Boneius, she leans in close to listen to his heartbeat. Her eyes fixed on the chest piece.

Annie
Try to relax if you can.

Annie looks up, her gaze meeting the Barron's.



There's a long pause. Annie sharply pulls away

Annie
You remember how I mentioned I'd been watching some of your stuff.

Barron Boneius
My lousy list of lame losses.

Annie (Slowly)
You're impressive list of i..interesting intelligent, near w-i-ns

A big grin comes over Boneius's face, the compliment and attempt at alliteration landing.

Barron Boneius
You think I was evil?

Annie
You were good in the ring, if that's what you mean. I saw Big Houmous or whatever his name was has a match this week, you got a daring plan for revenge?

Barron Boneius
What can I do to that boring blowhard from a bed.

Annie
I had a feeling you would say that, so, don't get mad, but, I invited his competition in to see you, thought you could give them some pointers on how to win.

Barron Boneius
You righteous rube that's, that's,

Boneius's expression slowly changes

Barron Boneius
That's a ruddy good idea.

In the empty hospital canteen sits the Dracislav twins. Alaric has a Coke in front of him while Kolotov does not. The two speak in overly forced stereotypical Transylvanian accents

Kolotov
It's not fair brother, I am also thirsty.

Alaric
These places charge a fortune for drinks, think you coconut, we cannot be wasting money like that.

Kolotov
Why do you get one then?

Alaric
I am speaking to the man, I can't have a dry throat.

Lighting flashes outside the window as a door in the far side of the room opens. Barron Bonieus rolls himself in in a wheelchair with monitors all over it.

Barron Boneius
Listen up you dubious duo, I want that midget moped in your next match.

Kolotov
We also want that, so that's good.

Alaric
Shut up brother. We can take him, we don't need your help

Barron Boneius
You Z-listers don't stand a chance, not without this.

Boneius pulls out the two halves of the Bone Baton

Barron Boneius
Join me, and I'll give you these, the weapon that almost bashed the behemoth.

Alaric
We want to be stars.

Barron Boneius
With me, you will be.

Alaric
I trust you, alright, we're in.

Boneius raises the staff parts up high.

Barron Boneius
You understand the significance of these.

Alaric
Apart they are worthless, but together they are strong, we get the metaphor.

Boneius just spits at him, he throws the head of the baton to Kolotov, then the bottom to Alaric

Barron Boneius (to Kolotov)
Keep your brain dead brother in check. You are the head of the baton, the strong half, you do the bashing, it's the important part of the two.

Barron Boneius (to Alaric)
You are the handle, you help him, alone, you are worthless.

Kolotov
Are you sure this is right, maybe he should have the head?

Barron Boneius
NEVER! Do not disobey your new master. If you want fame and fortune, you will follow the founder of faker I, Barron Boneius!

In the excitement almost instinctively Kolotov takes a swig of Alaric's coke from the table. Outside the room Leslie and Annie stand looking in at the madness.

Annie
How was Conan?

Leslie
Not half as interesting as this is gonna be

Fade out

Fade in. In a dark dimly lit stone room, in the corner sits a frail Big Snivley his clothes dirty and torn.  He starts doing sit ups, but only manages one.  He falls to the ground, turning to look at the iron prison door.  He notices a tall figure, obscured in darkness looking in at him through the bars.

Big Snivley
Boneman, is that you, please, give me another chance, I can make you swole.

The figure breathes heavily but does not move.

Big Snivley
You're not the Boneman, you're too tall -

The figure interrupts him by punching the iron gate, sending it flying across the room, crashing into the opposite wall.

Mystery Figure
Not tall

Big Snivley
Sure dude, look you got any protein snacks on you, I'm so hungry, the Boneman just left me here, you don't work for him do you?

The figure shakes their head.

Big Snivley
You get me out of here and I swear dude, I'll train you, I'll cook for you, whatever you need, a trainers word is his bond.

The figure nods and steps out of the shadows revealing himself to be Big Homunculus, he reaches a hand out to Big Snivley.

Big Homunculus
What I need, is family

Big Snivley pauses for a moment, before reaching up and clasping his hand. Sudden cut to our next scene. Backstage, the camera zooms out of a view of AWF lead reporter Kevin Kelly, smiling his pearly whites at the camera as they wait for the crowd to die down slightly.

Kevin Kelly
Ladies and gentleman, with me now, is none other than the debuting Wallaby-Way Sydney!

The camera pans out some more, revealing the grinning and friendly demeanour of the Babe of Beasts, Wallaby-Way Sydney. The crowd give a small pop, though they have yet to get to know this competitor.

Sydney
Cri-key! I know it's mighty stereotypical of me to throw that word out up top, but bloody 'ell does it count right now! I've been hearing amazing things about this company, and I just KNEW I had to get signed to it, and here I am, being interviewed in front of the same crowd that's witnessed explosions, crazy characters, and some of the best matches the wrestling world has had in years!

Kevin Kelly
What thoughts do you have on your match tonight?

Sydney
Well, in my bid to impress this very same audience, my first match is against Lieutenant Andorra! I've been watching this man work, and bloody 'ell, if he ain't impressive! Size of that man, he shouldn't move as fast as he does, and if I'm not careful, he'll land on my head like a bloody Koala dropping from a tree! My work is cut out for me.

Kevin Kelly
Andorra was knocked out of the tournament last week, and he's having a few family troubles. Do you think you have the advantage of morale going into this match?

Sydney
Maybe so, but that shouldn't be the case. What's happening to Andorra is cruel, and I wish him the best in recovering from it. If I see he's not at 100% tonight, I'll try my best to be as accomodating and fair as I can to him, and you will not find me trying to take advantage of his emotional state for a win. If I don't win fair and square, I do not win. I know how difficult family troubles can be, like Andorra, I have a family of my own, granted, mine are a much furrier bunch, but I love them like my children.

Kevin Kelly
Oh! Here's one now!

Sydney turns to see a squirrel bounding along the floor, before it runs over to Sydney and leaps through the air, up her arm and onto her shoulder. Sydney giggles.

Sydney
Oh, Amy! You're supposed to be with the others! She must've escaped, she's the youngest and she gets a bit nervous when she's not around me. Her sisters can be a bit mean to her sometimes, especially Jo.

Sydney snuggles with the little squirrel.

Sydney
Was Jo upsetting you?

The interviewer smiles, as the squirrel squeaks back at Sydney.

Sydney
She called you what? That's mean!

The interviewer's smile drops slightly. Did she just reply to the squirrel.

Sydney
And Meg didn't say anything? Did Beth? That's not fair, don't worry, I'll deal with it. Come on.

Sydney turns to the interviewer, who looks confused at her now. Sydney gives him a smile and a shrug.

Sydney
Single mother troubles, right? Anyway, catch ya later, gotta deal with this! Have a good day! Good luck with the interviews!

Sydney marches off screen, Amy still on her shoulder. The interviewer watches her go, still slightly stunned that the rather affable competitor she was just chatting to suddenly began having a full conversation with a squirrel. She shakes her head, as the scene fades into the arena.



The crowd is ecstatic again, at the promised emergence of yet another fan favorite. The usual Lieutenant Andorra is not who Toronto receives, unfortunately, as instead a dejected Juan Carlos del Bosque enters the arena. A holler: ‘LUCAS!’ The front of his mask, around the eyeholes, is soaked and this week, the del Bosque section is empty. The nameplate flashes as Andorra forces himself to be the fantastic wrestler that he has promised every one he would be, slapping the hands of fans and forcing a grin past dribbling tears.

Mark Beverly: The following Provincial Championship Qualifying match is set for one fall. Introducing first, weighing two hundred pounds: LIEUTENANT! ANNNNNNDORRRRRRRRA!

Andorra raises his arms to the announcement but the dejection is still evident. He climbs the nearest turnbuckle once in the ring, but the production crew gracefully fades into the next theme to do him a solid.



A warm reception is given to Wallaby Way Sydney, who doesn’t wait long to make her first appearance. Without her furry fraternity, her Duchenne smile melts the hearts of the fans she instead focuses on, making immediate supporters from that interaction alone. She takes her time greeting as many fans as she can in this debut walk down the ramp.

Mark Beverly: From the Australian Wild, weighing one hundred forty two pounds: WALLABY! WAY! SYDNEY!

Inside the ring, she can feel the sorrowful energy and interestingly takes to seemingly consoling who should be her opponent. She graces an arm over his shoulder and rubs along like a mother as a cry for his son is emitted one more time. This encounter lasts for several seconds.

Christian Cage: I will never understand the bullshit that happens in this place.

Andorra pounds his chest and the tears just stop. Wallaby backs away respectfully before extending a hand that is shaken with honor. They back away and stare each other down, referee Filipe Santana signaling for the start.

Ding!

The two engage in a collar-and-elbow tie up that where best positioning is jockied for strenuously. Andorra attempts a duck under to get behind but it’s shedded off entirely, then the collar-and-elbow is restarted. Andorra gets out first again, this time with a successful side-headlock. A hand swings and before long, Andorra is in the air as Wallaby has the perfect form for a back suplex, and down he goes. There’s an immediate cover.

Filipe Santana: ONE!.....












KICKOUT

Both competitors get to their feet, and Andorra charges only to get taken down with a Ricky Steamboat-style arm drag. He’s back up and attempts another running attack, but the same sort of arm drag sends him back across the ring where he started. He changes it up on her on the get up by springboarding off the second rope via the corner into a cannonball hurricanrana attempt. The legs are grabbed by Sydney and she suddenly has him up for her finisher!



THE KOALA BOMB!

NO!

Andorra’s hooked up a sunset flip into a pin, but Sydney doesn’t let it sit for a count before she’s rolled out and attempted a low dropkick, that is Matrix ducked. Andorra’s to his feet just as Wallaby Way is, ducking an attempted clothesline. A crossbody is tried, but Sydney catches the Andorran and sends him away with a fallaway slam.

Lance Storm: No, he landed on his feet. It’s like these two won’t let the other just land a defining move.

A neckbreaker attempt is turned into a push into the ropes, with the luchador turning the tables and hopping over to the other side of the apron. Wallaby goes shoulder first to the abdominal in a move that’s sidestepped, a knee trembler coming her way instead - if she hadn’t moved just out of the way to swing for the lariat that gets ducked in Andorra’s run to the top rope. She retreats from the ropes to meet whatever he will attempt, and it’s a corkscrew body splash that she aims a dropkick for, catching the man in the side and finally ending the kerfuffle and in a big way.

Lance Storm: Hell of a way to end that extended exchange.

Similar to Ruxx Rampede earlier, Wallaby awaits patiently for Andorra's rise. She goes toward him as he gets his first leg up and he attempts to swing his arm for a low blow! Sydney somehow catches the arm with her thighs, chops the Lieutenant over the dome with the hardest side of her hand, and sends him to the ropes. Pop up - KOALA BOMB! Out of nowhere, perhaps the only big hit in the match and it comes as her finisher from nowhere!

Filipe Santana: ONE!......


























TWO!........






























THREE!

DING DING DING!

As her music begins again, Wallaby Way Sydney’s focus is apparently still Lieutenant Andorra’s mental well being as she taps him on the shoulder before accepting Filipe Santana’s grab to raise her hand.

Mark Beverly: The winner of this match: WALLABY! WAY! SYDNEY!

More audience members than before have risen to their feet at her name and she soaks in all the love as she walks around the ring, hands in the air. She exits the ring, immediately taking to whatever handshake and autograph requests she can notice out of the front three rows.

Wallaby Way Sydney d. Lieutenant Andorra in 3:47

The happy face crossfades to a much less enthusiastic one, that we’ve grown familiar with in the last seven days.

Christina King
Violence becomes me.

I grew up embraced by violence. It was a part of my everyday life. No matter how far I ran or how hard I struggled, violence was always looming over my shoulder. Fighting became second nature to me. When I think back to those bloody days of violence a single tear comes to my eye. Violence is my oldest friend and my most enduring enemy.

When I was still in boarding school there were bullies who knew where I came from. That wretched madhouse where I was born. They would torture me endlessly. Eventually I defended myself against the biggest, baddest bully in my boarding school. It was at that moment that my fate was sealed. Violence would be with me for the rest of my life. I still remember that winter, the winter when I embraced the idea of violence. It was the coldest winter I’d ever experienced up to that point.

Flash forward eight months and my life was very different. Life was rough, as I’ve recalled many times. On those cold streets violence was something you could never escape. I grew to understand. Yes, I understood why such actions were necessary. If I had grown weak I wouldn’t be here talking to you, recalling my history and the history that led to the birth of Madwoman. It’s just the way of the world. You can either let the world run you over or you can fight.

When I became a professional wrestler I was already used to the allure of violence. If you’re on the outside looking in you could never understand. It takes years of training and fighting for violence to become second nature. Fights like ours only seem to flow as well as they do. The truth is that without the training and the fighting you lock up, you become unable to fight. You have to act without thinking. Everything must become second nature.

Second. Nature.

It’s scary, isn’t it? When you think about what I had to go through to achieve this presence of mind, the ability to be an unfeeling beast that hurts and destroys. It’s even stranger when you take a look at my physical stats. You wouldn’t think a five foot tall super junior would be able to pull off the things I pull off. It’s obvious I’ve been through some shit in my time. Some heavy, murky shit.

You wonder why I’m crazy? It’s the birth in the madhouse, followed by the years of violence, the extremely rough training by the Raging Dead, and the following years of struggling. Madwoman isn’t just a gimmick. My mind is a battlefield. My emotions are consistent ups and downs.

Maybe I don’t enjoy the violence. Maybe I’ve lived with it for so long that I just don’t think about it anymore. The struggles are over but the war has just begun. I spent a year on top of the world and now, now I step into a true war. A battle royal. All weapons legal. Something inside of me tingles. Something cries out to be fed with the flowing crimson life force of a dozen wrestlers…..

I see someone. Laci Valentine. Perhaps she should win this. Perhaps I’ll come into this match in defense of her. Last week we stole the show before the show even aired. Maybe I’ll extend an olive branch. Imagine it, two madwoman running wild over AWF.

Perhaps…

Or maybe she’ll come at me first, try to get rid of me.

Either way…

I’m swinging my weapons. I’m coming to shed blood.

Violence becomes me.

Fade to commercial.

---

’Have you or a loved one been diagnosed with mesoth….’

---

We come back into another scene. A small hall has been set up with several dozen folded out chairs in two sections and a small stage. A sign reads "Bi-monthly Toronto Little Person Gather and Natter". The audience are all little people, and in the front row sit Gordon and Hayley. Gordon is the tallest of the attendees, and Hayley is strikingly beautiful, the spitting image of Annabelle Davis.

Hayley
Everyone seems a little more excited than usual tonight. What's going on, Gordy?

Gordon
Well, don't let it slip, but we have a special guest. There's a wrestling company coming to town and the winner of their last match of the week was...one of us.

Hayley
Like a comedy match, right?

Gordon
Nope. A legitimate and very well reviewed match. It sounds like a very progressive company.

Hayley
Since when do you watch wrestling?

Gordon
His lawyer contacted me, actually, thought it would be interesting to us. He used the word bitch 37 times but still seemed a reasonable fellow. Offered to collect our bins.

Hayley
I could really see myself getting into wrestling now they're actually treating us like people. I've always loved the pageantry but every time somebody showed me a clip from WWE it was always some poor little person being made a fool of.

Gordon
I feel the same. I've not met this young man - Big H - yet, but I'm already very proud of him.

A wisened dwarf named Rusty takes to the stage and stands at the plinth, his once rusty orange beard long since faded to a distinguished metallic grey. The crowd's murmurs immediately go to silence.

Rusty
My friends, we've been here many times, we know each other very well and I think you're going to be very happy with what we have for you tonight. We have a special guest. A young dwarf hailing from a far off land who has broken into a fledgling wrestling company and earned victories as a serious contender. This is an ally who has walked into a land of giants and demanded respect, so please put your hands together for our special guest, who I believe should be here somewhere, Big Homunculus!

An excited and somewhat emotional crowd put their hands together in praise of one of their own, proving that they can all do everything they dream of. The applause gradually dissipates into confused murmurs as Big Homunculus strides proudly through the gap that splits the groups of seats in two, wearing the hide of a beast as a hood. He's at least three times the height of the next tallest person in the room. He approaches the stage and, booster step not available, puts his fingertips on the edge of the stage and drags himself belly first until he's lying at Rusty's feet.

Rusty
Hello.

Big Homunculus puts a big long hand on Rusty's frail shoulder and uses it to drag himself to his feet. Rusty lets out a small cry of pain and immediately leaves the stage once Big H has got to his feet and released his grip. Homunculus turns to the audience with a tear of joy in his eye. Hayley whispers to Gordon.

Hayley
Is this some sort of joke?

Gordon
I'm as confused as you are.

Big Homunculus
My friends. My...family. I'm honoured to be here to speak in front of a group I admire so much. I-

Big Homunculus catches sight of Hayley and chokes on his words. While in reality she looks quite disgusted by Big H, he sees her staring into his eyes affectionately, surrounded by floating love hearts and rainbows. Big Homunculus quickly wraps his hooded hide around his waist to cover his burgeoning erection.

Big Homunculus
Mommy- Er..I've been fighting for myself for a long time, but now I can see your faces I know I can fight for something more, and I always have been fighting for something more. I've been fighting for you, and you, and you since the start.

Big H spots a particularly strange looking dwarf a few rows back; a little awkward and nerdy but happy to be in a safe, friendly environment.

Big Homunculus
Not you.

The awkward young dwarf slides out of his chair and shuffles through the row of seats and walks towards the exit. When he reaches the door he turns and gives a look over his shoulder before leaving.

Big Homunculus
Now I need to ask something of you in return for the pain I've endured to have us legitimised in another arena. As a proud little person and descendant of a nobel pygmy tribe-

Audience member
This is disgraceful! Long boy!

Audience member 2
Go play a joke on someone else, elongated freak!

Homunculus looks confused and distraught. His eyes convey pain and fear.

Big Homunculus
Another family...rejected. I...

Audience member
Go play basketball you ungainly fuck!

Fade to black on the pain-stricken face of Homunculus. Fade in and Homunculus is stood at the side of the road looking lost and aimless. Gordon approaches him with Hayley in tow. She tugs on his sleeve and shakes her head but he persists.

Gordon
Excuse me, Mister Homunculus?

Big Homunculus continues to stare at the floor.

Big Homunculus
Yes?

Gordon
You seem to have a lot on your plate, would you like to join us for a drink?

Big Homunculus turns to shake his head at Gordon then sees Hayley stood behind him.

Big Homunculus
Fuck yeah.

In an upscale Toronto pub, Hayley and Gordon sit across from Homunculus at a table in a booth.

Big Homunculus
So at first I thought the boss was stacking the deck against me, then I thought he was in my corner and had confidence in me, now I'm succeeding he seems to be trying to throw me under the bus. How do I keep this man on my side?

Gordon
Well what does he value?

Big Homunculus
Hmm...

Gordon
How did you win him over in the first place?

Big Homunculus
I allegedly exploded a house.

Gordon
I....see

Big Homunculus
It's ok, it was the home of a racist pedophile.

Gordon
Oh, Roderick Kross. Fair enough. What a stank bitch.

Big Homunculus
Mmmm, but now I've won a match, the boss has given away my bye and is making me fight for it against a tag team, while being partnered with someone who will be chosen for me by a steroid abusing skeleton who assaulted me.

Gordon
Sounds like you react well when your back is against the wall, and your boss seems to have noticed that. So I guess he values...

Big Homunculus
Violence. Erratic, unpredictable, illegal displays of violence.

Gordon
Actually-

Big Homunculus
You are quite brilliant. Is his mother still alive I wonder? Irrelevant, she's probably homeless. Blowing up a cardboard box is no fun. How about we play a little prank?

Gordon smiles, Hayley rolls her eyes.

Gordon
Cars parked around the corner, I'll bring it around.

Gordon hops off his seat and trots out of the door. Big Homunculus sets his sights on Hayley.

Big Homunculus
I've seen the way you've been looking at me.

Hayley
I don't mean to be rude. I don't know what this is but I know I don't like it.

Big Homunculus
You just like those big tall dwarves huh? The big boys who nearly hit five feet tall. There's more to life than height. I've got character.

Hayley's phone buzzes.

Hayley
Come on, he's waiting for us.

Gordon and Hayley are sat in Gordon's Mercedes across the road from a hotel car park.

Hayley
Gordon what are we doing? This guy's a tool.

Gordon
Come on Hayley. He's got a lot going on but I see sincerity in him. He didn't deserve what happened at the meeting. We should have been more patient, more accepting.

Hayley rolls her eyes. Big Homunculus comes galloping out of the shadows and gets in the car, giggling. He jumps through the open back window.

Big Homunculus
This is going to be great.

Gordon
What classic prank you gone for this time?

Big Homunculus
He's coming out, I called pretending to be from the venue, urgent meeting. Just wait for him to put the key in the ignition.

A shaggy grey figure exits the hotel lobby and heads towards a car.

Gordon
Is that Bret Hart?

Big Homunculus
The one and only.

Gordon
Wow I loved him as a kid.

Bret raises his hand and clicks his car key fob which beeps.

Big Homunculus
Shit.

Bret's car explodes but he's not close enough to come to harm.

Big Homunculus
Drive!

Gordon burns rubber and disappears into the distance as Bret stands in shock. Big H leers at Hayley and smirks.

Big Homunculus
I'm gonna get promoted for sure.

The crossfade returns us to the Dracislav Twins mid-entrance, inside the ring with both halves of the broken Bone Batton.

Mark Beverly: The following tag team bout is your first hour main event, and is set for one fall. In the ring: the Dracislav Twins!

Cut to the commentary booth. This time, Christian sits back and doesn’t seem to want to take over the proceedings.

Lance Storm: You just saw Big Homunculus attempting to make an impression in a way that’s, well, just his style. Last week, he won the Redemption Royale earning himself a round one bye in the Provincial Championship tournament. That all changed as we were headed off the air last week, and Barron Boneius literally drew first blood. At Gold Rush, Homunculus and Boneius will meet in a no holds barred contest with the first round bye on the line, but first, the Sworn Enemy of Good has dispatched his new legionnaires, the Alaric and Kolotov, against Homunculus and a partner of Barron’s choosing. Let’s cut to Barron from the hospital.

The screen cuts to Barron Boneius, who is live via satellite in his wheelchair in the hospital. He’s still bigger than he was in week one, but the steroid boost he sported the week before is certainly visibly diminishing.

Barron Boneius
You fickle fans full of frognificient defecation filibustered from fraudulent philosophies do not deserve the luxurious linguistic lightness laced listlessly by this lord of lascivity AND SO I SAY!--

The Barron must catch a breath in his wounded times.

Barron Boneius
BEHOLD, YOU DWARVEN DESECRATED DIMWIT! YOUR PARTNER! SNIVLEY!

He casts his hand out and outside the hospital, the sound of thunder can be heard. Nothing within the arena, however, happens, before we cut to the chaos: the long back of Homunculus as his arms wail away at something. Big Snivley comes from out of the shot in a sprint with a super soccer punt and before long, the grey body of Little Snivley goes flying across the backstage area. He hits the back of his head against a sprinkler, somehow not triggering the whole building, and blood can be seen dripping down from a wound immediately. Big Snivley has another sprint and Goldberg spears Little Snivley through the wall of the women’s bathroom, and a fat Sunny who must have been in attendance runs out the door screaming. Big Snivley walks out of the hole in the wall and screams to Homunculus: ‘He didn’t say which Snivley!’ The two march and the camera cuts back to frantic twins, readying their broken Bone Battons as they stare awaiting their opponents.

Seemingly taking a page of the Raging Dead playbook, Big & Big manage to fake out their opponents by suddenly appearing from behind, sliding beneath the rope to a burst of excitement from the Torontians. They charge the Twins from behind and Sandra Yandel calls for the bell immediately.

Ding!

As if thought up prematurely, Big & Big attack Kolotov with a double-jab strike in the Tornado fashion to both temples, sending the bigger brother to the outside of the ring. Alaric tries to swing his half of the batton at both brothers but Homunculus comes up with an uppercut that rocks him. Big Snivley lines his shot up and Homunculus pulls Alaric up by the head and sends him into harm’s way - another spear! Alaric looks absolutely destroyed! Homunculus allows Big Snivley to get the cover!

Sandra Yandel: ONE!.....































TWO!..............






















THREE!

DING DING DING!

The crowd is stunned at the fast work.

Lance Storm: I thought the Matt Sydal affair from last week was quick, but there’s no way that wasn’t just the fastest loss we’ve seen so far.

Christian Cage: How can that even be possible?! Boneius said Snivley!

Lance Storm: Oh, we got a Snivley, Cage.

The camera cuts Big Snivley, his hand being raised. Without warning, Homunculus has grabbed him by both cheeks and licked inside his nostril. ‘You are family now,’ says Homunculus as he swallows.

Big Homunculus & Big Snivley d. Dracislav Twins in 0:27

A cross to the just the following on screen.

15 May 2020 - 4:30PM

Days after an impressive victory on the second episode of Tuesday Night Primetime over (seasoned veteran) Tony Savage, Phil Goode and some of his football buddies are spotted celebrating his win at the Rogers Centre (aka the home of Major League Baseball’s Toronto Blue Jays). It is well before the game’s honorary first pitch, scheduled for 7:15 PM, and the men find themselves on the diamond taking batting practice with the pros. Leading off (of course) from Iowa City, Iowa… “The First” Phil Goode

Phil Goode
Watch and learn boys! Y’all are looking at two-time (raising his index and middle fingers), TWO-TIME, all-state FIRST (specific emphasis on “first”) baseman. Back in high school, I dominated the gridiron and the plate.

Swinging three large bats like toothpicks, Goode’s friend laughs and says.

Football Buddy #1
(Sucking his teeth playfully) Ion’t kno bout all dat one bro, you seem more like a dominatrix if anything.

Goode’s friend is now laughing harder and the rest of the guys join in.

Football Buddy #2
(Responding to the roast) Yeahhh yeahh you right family, this man REALLY loved those tackling drills. He used to wrap up and not let go… the craziest part about it though, (tapping each member of the group on the chest) check this; he was the one with the BALL!

The whole group erupts in laughter.

Phil Goode
Well ain’t that but half a bitch. Slap my thigh, make me cry, and scratch the itch on my ass while y’all at it. (Struggling to hold back his own laughter) Don’t let me get started on the things Y’ALL used to do in college, each one of you guys are some dirty mother…

The batting practice coach interrupts Goode mid-sentence, asking if he’s ready to hit.

Phil Goode
(Answering respectfully, recognizing his surroundings) Alright, alright let’s do it brutus.

Goode walks around the left side of the wide netted cage and treads leisurely to the batter’s box. Dragging his bamboo Mizuno across the dirt, Goode steps up to the plate and does the standard; tap, tap, tap, crotch grab, tap, helmet fix, crotch grab routine. He then gives the boomstick a couple swings before locking in. Like a true professional, Goode takes the first pitch he sees and steps back out of the box. His friends egg him on by shouting and booing.

Football Buddy #2
Get ya ass back in there boy! You ain’t no Barry Bonds.

Goode shrugs him off and locks in once again. The pitch comes… and the pitch goes. Still no swing from the methodical Phil Goode. Using his left hand, he guides the Blue Jays coach toward his sweet spot which is high and away. With that now established, Goode digs in one more time and cements his Nikes into the ground.

There is a blank look in his eyes, and it appears that he is totally concentrated. The Blue Jays coach settles in, winds up and lobs a straight fastball at the plate. (The ball travels across Homeplate and into the catcher’s mitt) Goode refuses to swing for a third time.

Football Buddy #3
(Speaking to group collectively) I wish he was this picky with food and women, oh my god. (Directly at Goode now) Brooo… swing the damn bat!

The heckling continues and they are relentless. Goode can be seen grinding his teeth and flaring his nose.

Phil Goode
(Clearly flustered and irritated) Actually… I’m GOODE. I’m all set. I don’t even want to anymore. You guys can hit. Do ya thang, do whatever you want. I’ll see y’all after the seventh inning stretch.

Goode drops the bat while his group of friends sing in unison.

Buddy Chorus
Commmee onnnn man! Take one crack at it before you go.

They hand him the bat, but Goode lets it fall out of his palms. The group of guys continue batting practice without Phil, and they watch him ascend to their box suite like a crow in the rafters.

Later that night - 10:30PM

It is almost time for the seventh inning stretch and Phil Goode has yet to say a word to his buddies since the incident on the field. The Toronto Blue Jays are currently leading the Houston Astros by a score of 6-3 and the crowd is electric. There are two outs in the bottom of the sixth, Vladimir Guerrero Jr. is working with 3-2 count and he has a runner on third base. Justin Verlander is on the mound and this is probably the batter he will face. Everyone in the stadium is on their feet, they are chanting, “BJ’s” “BJ’s” “BJ’s” because who doesn’t love the goode old Blue Jays. Verlander winds up and delivers the pitch… a swing… and a miss, strike three! The inning is now over. The crowd begins to simmer down as their least favorite intermission starts, “The Stars in the Stands'' segment of the game. This segment simply includes a brief camera cut of the celebrities in attendance.

Toronto Blue Jays Announcer
(Booming through the stadium’s PA system) Ladies and Gentlemen: I hope you are all enjoying the game and the time spent with friends and family! I am honored to present the stars of today, the stars of tomorrow, and the stars of yesteryear. Tonight, we have welcomed several high-profile names in our home so give a big round of applause for multi-platinum recording artists Celine Dion… hip hop legends Paul Wall and Bun B… actor Jack Nicholson… the 44th of the United States of America, Barack Obama… and last but not least… former XFL tight end and current AWF superstar Phil Goode!

Usually, this segment would be over once the last celebrity is acknowledged but not on Goode’s watch. He insists on getting a cameraman in his suite, but his wish is not granted. Goode starts to do everything in his power to get the attention of the viewers, but he fails terribly. Goode’s plan of taking over the seventh inning stretch is a wasted attempt. Although he despises the app, he takes matters into his own hands and starts a quick Instagram Live session. Goode grabs his phone and gets into position.

Phil Goode
(Visibly red and angry) First things first… from THE FIRST! I don’t do this social media crap. I don’t rant about the birds and the bees, the trees and herds, but goddamn this feels GOODE. I’ve been riding the high of my FIRST victory in AWF and I just couldn’t wait to let you guys know. I can see we already got a couple hundred in this live, I’ll take it.

Points to his friends relaxing in the suite.

Phil Goode
Last week on Primetime, you all witnessed the power of Phil Goode. (Pause) I must be a soothsayer or something because I told each and every last one of you the outcome of that match versus Tony Savage. He’s an honorable guy, he’s really a GOODE guy but when you stand mano y mano with THE guy it’s hard not to lose. I don’t blame him. I’m sure we will cross paths during our Toronto Tornado Turmoil Match on Tuesday Night but I’m not worried.

Goode flips the camera to show a view of his suite, then he flips it back.

Phil Goode
(Sarcastically) Hey, I’ll even offer him a possible alliance opportunity because he definitely can fight. (Smug and stern) I can certainly use him… to win of course. But okay... guys I’m going to get off this crap, I’m glad I was able blow off some steam before my NEXT victory.

The first words he speaks to his friends since the incident on the field.

Phil Goode
(Arrogantly) Say GOODE-bye to my fans, gentlemen. (Bowing like he just performed an entire set and encore) I’m outta here folks. PEACE!

This IG Live has ended.

Commercial.

---

---

While the capacity crowd is happy to see her, Athena’s no-nonsense walk from behind the curtain helps to establish a theme amongst last week’s vanquished in semi-finals: they are in no way happy. A bandage is over her head and none of the happy-go-lucky attitude that crept out during her first two entrances are here. She still panders to some hand slaps along the walk down the ramp, but that’s the best the crowd gets from the frustrated Athena.

Mark Beverly: The following Provincial Championship qualifying match is set for one fall. Entering the ring, from Essex Falls, New Jersey, weighing one hundred forty pounds: the Goddess of War! A! THEEEE! NAAAA!

Her focus is on the entrance way immediately, but then she seems to have a flashback and begins looking around all sides.



A much more mixed reaction stirs about the arena as the lighting strobes and flashes. Raging Dead is out of the curtain this week and flipping his hair back right out of the gate to get a good look at the angry young woman. Seven days ago, he clocked and bloodied her with two shots over the dome but she got the last laugh, pinning his shoulders down for his elimination. It seems that her feelings were still unsettled, as the two grill each other as he descends the ramp slowly.

Mark Beverly: Her opponent, from Ozone Park, New York, weighing two hundred eighteen pounds: RAGING! DEAD!

The credentials are announced and Athena is off, sliding under the bottom rope and charging her opponent. He gets ready, trying to pull off his trench coat but her forearms meet his chin before he can finish. He keeps fumbling as she keeps striking, and a gutkick halts his progress. She clubs his bare back and begins tugging at the coat before sending a stiff boot to his face. Raging Dead falls to his side against the ringside barricade and has to eat a boot the gut and then again to the face.

Lance Storm: Athena is clearly not okay with how last week went down, and she’s coming toward us now.

The timekeeper doesn’t even need the warning and is up before she can get to the chair she’s come over for. The woman is determined, but in that time Raging Dead has gotten free of his trenchcoat and ducks under the attempted swing, lifting her into a northern lights suplex on the arena floor. The audience gives a vocal ‘ooooooooo’ as her body rattles. He’s to his feet and on her, picking up a jog as he leads her head into the steel post, dropping her again.

Lance Storm: We’ve seen, the offensive style of Raging Dead is one that is ruthless and all about effectiveness. It’s all about getting the job done.

Christian Cage: What else should it be about, Storm? It’s the sign of a veteran and a future champion.

Her head is in his hands again but she gets rolled underneath the ring this time.

Ding!

Her bandage has fallen off but her adrenaline hasn’t waned, as she takes the man down with a football tackle upon his entering the ring. They get back up and a legscrew sends Raging Dead across the ring and he retreats into the corner. Athena’s just behind him and comes in with a flying elbow strike. The groggy Raging Dead falls into her arms, and she cinches and throws a belly-to-belly to the other side. He pulls himself up fast but gets caught with a running leg lariat to the face. Groggy again, he’s a slave to her mercy (or better, lack thereof) as she plants him with a DDT. What usually would be a cover becomes a mounted flurry of punches to the elder man’s face.

Christian Cage: She looks more concerned with getting out her frustrations against him than she looks like she wants to win, and you don’t want to waste time against this man!

Athena at this point has stopped the punches and thought of another grapple, trying to hook up the veteran with it before he begins throwing out whatever strike will land to shake her. The original idea essentially blocked, a gutkick topples Raging Dead and she’s rebounding against the rope -- FLYING HEADBUTT! From Raging Dead! Out of nowhere, he springs nearly out of his boots and the two collide head to head. Athena drops right on her back and her stitches are undone, her blood revisiting an AWF apron. The shot has left Dead left still, on his stomach. Wilford Daniels seemingly has no choice.

Wilford Daniels: ONE!







TWO!






THREE!








FOUR!



Raging Dead begins to stir, but Athena’s movements are only her stomach’s signs of unsteady breathing.

Wilford Daniels: FIVE!

He shakes his head as if to free it of cobwebs and seems to slowly recognize his situation at hand.

Wilford Daniels: SIX!

He looks over at Athena as he commits to a pushup.

Wilford Daniels: SEVEN!

He notices the blood pouring down her temple

Wilford Daniels: EIGHT!

As if vampiric, he’s to his feet and after Athena, forcing her to her knees and then he sets her between his legs. The set up is there.

Christian Cage: She shouldn’t have hesitated!

DEAD WEIGHT! The piledriver leaves Athena looking just about deceased, and Raging Dead wastes no time in hooking a leg.

Wilford Daniels: ONE!........

























TWO!..........

















THREE!

DING DING DING

Raging Dead allows Wilford Daniels to help him up, the headbutt setting back into effect. His arm is raised and he looks into the hard camera, confident in the win. A pantomime motion of a title around his waist.

Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, advancing to the next round at Gold Rush: RAGING! DEAD!

Raging Dead d. Athena in 4:10

A cross into the words:

Impossible is a word to be found only in the dictionary of fools.
- Napoleon Bonaparte

The scene fades into the backstage area of the Scotiabank Arena, and the face of Alberta Wrestling's intrepid interviewer Kevin Kelly. He pastes on a smile, and looks back at his cameraman, making sure he's rolling before lifting his fist to knock on the door before him. On the strip of masking tape affixed to the portal, slightly askew, are printed the words: NO ZOMBIES ALLOWED. Shaking his head, Kevin pushes open the door when nothing but silence answers his knocking.

Kevin Kelly
Hello? Excuse me? Hello? This is Kevin Kelly-

A huge horned shadow falls across the interviewer as the door swings open, making him freeze in his tracks. Footfalls echo in the locker room, accompanied by a horrible gurgling sound that conjures images best left unsaid in the head of the interviewer. A voice speaks from the gloom, sounding slightly raspy.

Max Ironside
I know who you are.

The great horned beast-man in the shadows shifts, and that gurgling sound comes again before he speaks once more.

Max Ironside
Pretty sure I didn't ask for an interview, so what gives?

Kevin Kelly
Oh, I know. I just thought it might be good to get your thoughts. With Gold Rush coming up quickly and your championship finals match with Priscilla Kelly-

Max Ironside
You thought you should pick my brain. Like… like a zombie?

Even though his voice trembles, Max Ironside steps out of the gloom and the enormous horned shadow resolves into the title contender wearing a brown plastic Viking hat on his head, sipping at a fruit smoothie.

Kevin Kelly
Worst. Interview. Ever.

The interviewer mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes and feeling quite silly for being intimidated at the tricks his mind has played on him. Snickering can be heard from off screen, and Max turns to glare sharply at the cameraman.

Max Ironside
What?

When the man says nothing, he flips the switch beside the door and beckons for Kevin Kelly to follow him inside. He flops down on the comfy couch in the middle of the room. For a moment he simply looks into the camera, that secretive smile fixed in place on his lips, looking utterly ridiculous in that lopsided Hagar the Horrible hat. The camera wobbles as the cameraman tries to contain his laughter, failing utterly at the attempt. Max just continues to sit there, looking less than amused. There's a ghost of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth, but for those who don't know him well, it's easy to miss.

Max Ironside
If I can be serious for a moment…

He winks at the camera on the heels of the blatant homage to ringside commentator Lance Storm.

Kevin Kelly
If that's your plan, I'd suggest ditching the hat. It's a wonder we didn't get a cease-and-desist notice from the estate of Willy Wonka after your little musical number last week.

Max shrugs and sighs theatrically before standing up slowly, cracking his back as he stretches. Draining the last of the smoothie through the straw, he tosses the empty cup at the trash can – THREE POINTER! With a cheeky grin, he sweeps the hat off his head.

Max Ironside
Think fast!

He whips the cheap plastic at Kevin Kelly who ducks rather than catch it. It smacks loudly against the wall and splits in half but Max is oblivious as he's bent over, rummaging in the gym bag at his feet. Straightening up, he shrugs into a blue and white jacket, complete with gold epaulets and gold buttons. He does them up slowly; making sure each and every one is fastened before picking up a black hat, settling it on his head. He leans back against the arm of the couch, sliding his hand into the front of the jacket, between buttons. He adopts another uber serious look, almost daring the cameraman to mock him again. Kevin Kelly looks up from the wreckage of what he can clearly tell is part of a children's Halloween costume to find Max now lounging, looking exactly like that short, dead, French dude from history class.

Kevin Kelly
What….

He sputters, barely able to contain his laughter as his professional demeanor shatters into a million pieces. The cameraman, catching the mirth, is barely able to keep Max focused in frame. The Handicapped Hero sighs and waits for the two supposed professionals to get a grip on themselves. After a few agonizing minutes, both stop laughing and the camera refocuses on Max, who is still lounging regally, attempting to look serious.

Max Ironside
Since I've got you here, I suppose I should tell you about this week's inspiration – none other than the legendary Napoleon Bonaparte. A man who knew how to pick his battles. A man who coined such awe-inspiring phrases as "ability is nothing without opportunity" and "never interrupt your enemy when he… or SHE… is making a mistake".

Kevin Kelly
Is that what you think? That Priscilla Kelly is making a mistake?

He taps the side of his nose, nodding.

Max Ironside
Is she taking me lightly? Absolutely. Is she making a mockery of this business, and accountability with this little contract loophole of hers? Most certainly. And I know you're going to tell me I'm being silly, that I'm taking wrestling far too seriously. You don't get it, Kevin. I've worked my ass off for years to finally break through into this – the top tier of professional wrestling. And maybe Hell's Favourite Harlot thinks it's a joke, but I can't afford to take an opportunity – ANY opportunity – lightly. Understand?

Kevin Kelly
Right, right. Of course.

Max Ironside
Tonight, against the Best Friends, I plan on going out there and kicking some butts. Setting the tone for Gold Rush in the best way possible. I can only assume that Priscilla is going to weasel her way out of this pairing, cheating me of the opportunity to scout her up close and personal. More stupid mind games, manipulations. I don't care. I'm going to prove that I belong at the top, conquering the mountain. The most important battle awaits at Gold Rush, of course – my own personal Waterloo.

Kevin Kelly
You might want to reconsider that metaphor, actually.

Max Ironside
I know. I shouldn't be pretending to be something I'm not, emulating all these greats and plagiarizing pop culture. I don't need to pretend to be something I'm not. I'm not a hero. Not really. I am just a damn good wrestler. I don't need to hide behind silly names or ludicrous claims.

He pulls the hat from his head, dropping it on the floor and moving to his feet to stomp on it.

Max Ironside
They think it's funny. You think it's funny, don't you?

Kevin Kelly
Find what funny? Your metaphor? Or...

Max Ironside
This. Me. I don't know.

He waves his hand, dismissing the thought.

Max Ironside
Clearly, I'm entertaining some pretty huge delusions, right?

Kevin Kelly
It's a little lofty, maybe. And saying that your match at Gold Rush is going to be your Waterloo… maybe isn't the best choice.

Max Ironside
Wait… what? Why?

Kevin Kelly
The French army had their asses handed to them by the Russians. Napoleon lost the most important battle… at Waterloo.

Max suddenly looks as though he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Max Ironside
History and geography always were my worst subjects. Listen, Kevin, you've gotta give me this tape. I can't let them see me gobbling up my own foot like this!

Kevin Kelly sighs and shakes his head.

Kevin Kelly
We're live, Max. There's no tape delay.

Max Ironside
Merde.

Fade to the outside of the Scotiabank Arena in Toronto, Ontario Canada. We see one freshly squeezed Orange Cassidy sitting on a milk crate. Do they even deliver milk in milk crates anymore? If not, where would one get a milk crate? Also how much milk could an arena really need, what would they even do with milk? Anyway, he pulls out his phone to look at the time.

Orange Casidy's Internal Monologue
Trent and Chuck said they had something to show me, but that was fifteen minutes ago.

Orange looks to his left, but there are no best friends. Orange looks to his right, but there are no best friends. Orange would look in the other two directions, but he knows that they probably won't be there, so he doesn't. OC sighs and reaches into the inside-breast pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small bic lighter and a silver cigarette case. The case is silver and engraved with the phrase “Hey you probably shouldn’t smoke, but if you do you should at least look cool - Trent & Ch”. Trent and Chuck had given it to him for his birthday, they say they ran out or characters when ordering it. Orange opens it up to reveal twelve hand rolled cigarettes, each tight and precise. He picks one out of the case, puts it in his mouth and then closes the case. He lights the cigarette and takes a long draw.

He holds the cigarette in his hand and finds peace in the slight warmth and buzz that now cover his body. His empty mind turns to memories as another image of a young blond child fills his mind. The child is standing in a living room as a large faceless male figure is frantically searching around the room.

Rough Male Voice
GOD DAMMIT! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY TOBACCO AND PAPERS!!

An unseen presence from behind the child gives him a nudge towards the man. The child now has his hand outstretched holding several rolled cigarettes. The male figure notices and stops searching. He moves towards the child.

Rough Male Voice:
YOU did this?

The child nodded and outstretched his arms as much as he could towards the male figure. The male figure picks the cigarettes up and looks at them.

Rough Male Voice
Finally you’ve made yourself USEFUL.

He hands the child back two cigarettes.

Rough Male Voice
Try these, maybe they’ll help you calm down.

The child looks at his hand, then looks at the male figure as he walks away and lights up a cigarette. Orange’s mind snaps back to reality, he held his cigarette too high up and while he was thinking he burned his finger. He lets go and the cigarette falls to the floor.

Orange Casidy's Internal Monologue
Fuck! I forgot I lit that.

Orange bends over to pick the cigarette up and put it back in his mouth. He takes another drag and then notices someone coming from his side. He reaches back into his pocket and reproduces the cigarette case. He opens it up and holds it out to the person.

Orange Cassidy
Smoke?

Laci, usually a non-smoker accepts the lone stick of death offered by her opponent and let's it sit loosely on her bottom lip. She notices that it was hand rolled but it hadn't stopped her from taking it.

Laci Valentine
Don't leave me hanging…

The man pushes off the crate to light the end. It blazes red as Laci puffs on it and then exhales from her nose like a pro.

Laci Valentine
I used to smoke. I quit but sometimes, you just need it.

She recalled a memory of an ex-boyfriend from her late teens. A dark man with a foreign accent that revelled in being called a 'punk'. It had been at his urging she had quit. Then things had gone sideways. He'd ended up with a hot little blonde who he had knocked up, twice, while she'd ended up eternally single... and celibate.

The man known as Orange puffs on his own cigarette and nods silently in agreement.

Laci Valentine
You know, it's a little irregular, being out here when we're about to face off in a short bit. For all I know I could be inflicting some serious pain on you. But right now, at this moment, you're just a coworker out for a smoke break.

She continues to puff, looking like an absolute badass, the total opposite of what she had been trying to show last week. The man of Orange continues to listen silently.

Laci Valentine
You don't talk much do you?" She asks, leaning back against the wall next to him. "Actually it's kinda nice. Most of the people here talk a lot of shit.

I thought a lot about what I was going to say about everyone thrown into this match. About how I was going to talk about weaknesses and why I had the best chance of winning, but the truth is, it doesn't matter. Once weapons get involved. Once you get the clearance to do whatever the fuck you want it's really anybody's game. Although…

She gives a smirk.

Laci Valentine
Can't say it wouldn't be satisfying to knock King's head off her shoulders and watch her roll. I mean, if I was that kind of person.

She does an internal laugh, the one someone might do if something was amusing but not worth a full out laugh.

Laci Valentine
As for the others, yourself included, it's really just a mixed bag. I may promote playing by the rules but it doesn't mean I don't know how to fight dirty. When you grow up like I did, you have to do what you can.

Laci didn't dare mention the group homes and constant trouble she had been in since she was thirteen. It wasn't going to make much of a difference, especially when everyone was trying to play that card to garner some sort of sympathy.

Laci Valentine
I bet you know what I'm talking about. I don't know how but I guess you just know when you meet someone with a similar story. I don't blame you for being a brooding silent type. Sometimes people say I talk too much. Can't help it though. When I feel awkward or anxious I ramble.

She finishes the cigarette and flicks it into a puddle, hearing the slight noise of the flame sizzling. She lifts her arm, showing him the circular scar on her arm. It's an old scar but distinctive. Orange nods, understanding immediately.

Laci Valentine
The old man loved his Cubans. He also loved bourbon. Who needed an ashtray right?

She rubs her arm in memory but doesn't say anything else about it, instead moving back to her match discussion.

Laci Valentine
Probably be ideal for your opponent from last week. He went psycho on the ref. Guess his last name isn't just a clever ring name like mine. He is savage.

It's quiet in the back alleyway, especially when Orange was a man of so few words.

Laci Valentine
I don't even pretend to know what Eclipse is. I mean to each their own for sure but I suspect she's another one that's going to be trying to take out as many as she can.

She looks over at her unlikely companion.

Laci Valentine
You know, when the match card said this was a 'brawl for it all' it's a little ambiguous, don't you think? Is there a bigger reward than just the satisfaction of winning? It made it seem like that, right? Like maybe it's a second chance derby and the winner gets another shot? Or is just a match from a twisted booker that thought, hey let's just let these people try to kill each other for the sheer fun of it. How fucked up would that be? Like we're in some sort of weird hunger games scenario.

She rolls her eyes.

Laci Valentine
May the odds be ever in your favor.

She kisses her two fingers and raises them in the air before chuckling. Even the Orange one smiles under his sunglasses.

Laci Valentine
I almost feel like Sarah Conners and everyone in that ring is some cyborg from the future wanting to kill me before I break out of this rookie crunchy coating. No one can say I don't have potential. Not even the crazy ballerina.

She laughs and then takes a deep breath. It's not hard to notice her clenched fists.

Laci Valentine
And that Goode guy. Why no one has thought to target his bum knee is beyond me. That injury is super fresh from healing. If you wanted to take advantage, that's where I would go. Even just a baseball kick to it is bound to make him crumble. The patella is not a place you can strengthen with muscle building and also, brawn can only get you so far, but really, it's his arrogance that's his true downfall.

The sound of a siren in the street has both of them looking toward the sound.

Laci Valentine
You'll get used to that. We may not be as bad as some of the big US cities but one thing we don't lack is crime.

She's speaking as an experienced Torontian of course.

Laci Valentine
Andorra is naive. That's all I really gotta say about that. I'm not sure I believe that Rey Mysterio actually killed his wife, but it's tragic and unfortunate. I am sorry that he had to endure that.

She looks back at the man who hadn't spoken the whole time.

Laci Valentine
I'm sorry. I've talked non stop. I hope I haven't made you think I'm a weirdo.

She smirks. Orange takes one more draw from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and lightly stepping on it.

Orange Cassidy
We may be opponents, but at the end of the day we are just coworkers.

A 1997 Red Ford Ranger comes racing by them going at least 80 mph and stops like way too far away. It’s like a minute long walk away, half a minute if you jog it. Orange gives one of those god dammit little head shakes and turns back to Laci.

Orange Cassidy
Good luck tonight. If you ever need a smoke break, come find me.

Orange puts his hand out for a limp fist bump. Laci stares at it for a second, not knowing what it means. After about twenty seconds she mouths “OH” and fist bumps him. He turns to walk towards the Best Friends, who are getting out of the car and excitingly walking towards him.

Orange Cassidy’s Internal Monologue
Nice girl, hope she makes it out of that match alive.

The Best Friends meet him like three quarters of the way, waving something in the air.

Trent Beretta
Orange! Look what we got!

Trent holds up the WCW TV Title. Orange raises an eyebrow quizzically.

Orange Cassidy
Wh-...

Chuck cuts him off, holding out the DDP action figure he had snagged.

Chuck Taylor
Look what we got for you!

Orange takes the figure from him and looks it over. Chuck is behind Trent with his head on Trent's shoulder.

Chuck Taylor
Well? Do you like it?

Orange looks at the figure, then back at the Best Friends. He puts the figure in the outside breast pocket of his jackets. He looks at the Best Friends with a smile and a 45 degree thumbs up. Chuck Taylor pumps his fist in the air in victory as the trio head inside the arena. Maybe they’ll go to catering, who knows. Fade to commercial.

---

Mark Henry announces his new competitor with Hershey’s: ‘Sexual Me’ with the tagline: ‘You’ll be dropping hands in no time!

The SATs finally use Test’s 1999 theme for an ‘Education Connection’ style advertisement.

Val Venis announces he’s running for Canadian Prime Minister next election cycle, initiating the Kannabis Krew Party. He approves of this message.

---

Dyno-Mike walks into his motel room. He throws his burlap bag into the corner of the room in frustration. He crashes down onto the bed and holds his head in his hands.

Dyno-Mike
Idiot! I’m gonna kill that lazy, slow moving sack a’shit if it’s the last thing I do.

A dark mood takes over the room. Dyno-Mike feels as though he is being watched.
He shoots off of the bed and peers outside of the blinds. He checks the bathroom, it’s empty.
His phone begins to ring, the number is withheld.

Dyno-Mike
Hello?

Unknown
Tuesday. Toronto.

Dyno-Mike
Yeah? What about it huh? That’s the next event

Unknown
How can there be another event Michael?

Dyno-Mike
Look here-

Unknown
NO! YOU LOOK! WE HAD A DEAL, YOU DESTROY THE DIVISION FOR ME AND I GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT!

Dyno-Mike
I know alrigh’? Y’don’t gotta get all worked up, it’ll be done. It’s not like I can fight them all at once.

Unknown
YOU’RE IN A TURMOIL MATCH YOU IDIOT! YOU’LL BE AGAINST HALF THE ROSTER!

Dyno-Mike’s face contorts into an evil grin at the sound of this.

Dyno-Mike
Turmoil huh? That sounds more like it!!!

Unknown
Don’t fail me again Michael. Or it’ll be the last thing you do.

The line goes dead. Dyno-Mike puts his phone back in his pocket and runs out of his room down to his truck. He speeds off.

Dyno-Mike is in a training ring surrounded by unconscious sparring partners wearing protective gear. There are two sparring partners left standing, they shake nervously as the somehow even bigger Dyno-Mike snarls like a rabid animal in the centre of the ring staring into the eyes of the men.

Dyno-Mike
COME ON YOU COWARDS!

The two men reluctantly charge him. Dyno-Mike grabs them both by the neck, bangs their heads together, then choke slams them into the canvas. He shakes with pure rage and lets out a growl. He begins steadying his breathing and calming down. One of the previously unconscious wrestlers is crawling out of the ring, whimpering. Dyno-Mike spots him and laughs.

Dyno-Mike
Well what do we have here?

Dyno-Mike picks him up by his foot just as he is about to escape the ring.

Sparring Partner
Please don’t! I’ve had enough! Please!

Dyno-Mike
You-You’ve had ENOUGH?!

Sparring Partner
Yyyyes sir.

Dyno-Mike
Funny, did I tell you that you’d had enough?

The sparring partner just whimpers in fear.

Dyno-Mike
I knew you were a bicth but I didn’t know you was a deaf bitch. ANSWER ME! DID I SAY YOU’D HAD ENOUGH?!

Sparring Partner
NO!

Dyno-Mike
WELL AFTER THIS YOU’ll BE RIGHT!

Dyno-Mike throws the man across the room. He crashes through the rear wall. He crashes into a weights room. Two large bodybuilders run to the mans aid.

Bodybuilder #1
Woah man, are you alright there friend?

Dyno-Mike walks through the freshly made whole in the wall.

Bodybuilder #1
Hey what the hell you call this?

Dyno-Mike grabs the man by his neck and lifts the bodybuilder high in the air. The bodybuilder struggles as the second stands in shock. Dyno-Mike pulls the bodybuilder, who is struggling to stay conscious close to him so they are face to face, with the mans feet still dangling above the floor.

Dyno-Mike
I call this a reckoning.

Dyno-Mike grabs the mans legs with his free hand. He holds the bodybuilder above his head and lets out a fearsome roar before he slams the middle of the bodybuilders back down hard onto his knee. The bodybuilder rolls motionless to the floor. The second bodybuilder now stands holding a bat, with two other muscular men, also with bats. Dyno-Mike smiles at them, snorts loudly and spits a huge greeny onto the unconscious man.

Bodybuilder #2
You son of a bitch, get him boys.

The three men charge at him. The camera moves to the window, where the Scotiabank Arena can be seen in the distance. The screams of the three men can be heard as one of them goes careering out of the window. Dyno-Mike, now wielding a baseball bat, jumps out of the window after him. He begins violently swinging the bat at what we can only assume is the man's head. Dyno-Mike looks up at the Arena and sprints towards it. As he runs he screams one word.

Dyno-Mike
CASSIDY!!!!!!!

The camera zooms with supersonic speed towards the Scotiabank Arena before transitioning back into a view of the inside events. All ten participants of the first ever Toronto Tornado Turmoil match have already occupied the ring and stand on guard awaiting the sounding of the bell.

Mark Beverly: The following contest is the Toronto Tornado Turmoil match! In this match, there will be no count-outs and no disqualifications, where the first person to score a fall inside the ring, wins!



Lance Storm: Can’t say I was expecting the commissioner at this time.

Out of the curtain for the second time tonight is Commissioner Booker, welcomed by another standing ovation. This time, he comes with a microphone already in hand and does not walk past the end of the stage, his focus on the competitors in the ring. He addresses them directly.

Commissioner Booker
Everybody’s gonna learn fast to keep on your toes here in the AWF. Last week’s Redemption Royale got the ante upped and we’re doing it again. Last week’s winners, watch your backs, ‘cause if any of you take the fall tonight, the person who does it taking your place on the 30th.

Tensions rise as losers turn their focus almost solely onto the winners.

Commissioner Booker
Now can you dig that, sucka?!

The ‘uuuuuuuuh’ is trailing - Ding!

Dyno-Mike lariats Orange Cassidy right over and out of the ring, chasing after the man like a rabid beast. Matt Sydal’s spinning heel kick sends José Figueiras out of the ring, with a suicide dive keeping both men down for a period. Dyno-Mike throws Orange Cassidy around the arena like a ragdoll, eventually sending the man backfirst into the ringside barricade. Eclipse is attempting to cut away with karate kicks at Jetta, who dodges and blocks as she can. Tony Savage has Phil Goode backed into a corner with blows coming from everywhere.

Lance Storm: It looks as if everyone’s just continuing where they left off last week.

One roundhouse kick to the side of the head by Eclipse sends Jetta flying between the top and middle ropes and is followed. There’s only two people yet untouched, who have let the turmoil commence around them before making a move: last week’s opponents, Laci Valentine and Christina King. Laci keeps her eyes peeled on Christina as they begin to circle around the ring upon realizing their situation, seemingly not willing to make the first move. They inch closer to each other but Tony Savage is suddenly caught in the back of the neck with a kick from Christina King. Laci watches as Christina turns her attention fully now to the other man with a Cactus clothesline over and out.

Phil Goode, now freed from Savage’s wrath, takes the immediate advantage and drops the only woman left in the ring with a running spear. Once down, she lies on her side to avoid a pinning predicament, but Goode is off the ropes and baseball sliding the small of her back. Savage charges back in and his attempt to get back at Phil is thwarted by the former XFL star’s big boot to the mouth.

Savage’s body drops and rolls out of the ring as the camera cuts to Dyno-Mike sending Orange Cassidy up and over the corner of the ringside barrier with an uncaring belly-to-belly suplex, crashing between two sections of fans.

Lance Storm: The human body is not meant to suffer something like that.

Dyno-Mike is following Orange Cassidy over the barricade in his cool, nonchalant ways, the target finally where he wants him. Inside the ring, Matt Sydal has managed up to the top rope and is off with a senton splash to a downed Phil Goode, before rolling up to hook up Laci Valentine’s with a hurricanrana. SWAN KICK! Christina King back in the ring with that kick seen last week, this time leveling Matt Sydal out of nowhere.

Dyno-Mike has walked over to Cassidy now, lighting a cigar in the process. ‘Hey, bub,’ says he between drags, ‘We’re gonna end this now.’ With a violent tug of the neck via hairgrab to expose Cassidy’s forehead, taking the cigar out of his mouth as he positions and-

Christian Cage: He’s using his head as an ashtray! Listen to the screams - and from Orange Cassidy!

Something seems to come over Cassidy in that moment, who stops the burning with a swift lowblow. The crowd surrounding them are to their feet, and OC has let his sloth go in his grabbing of what was a fan’s seat to swing it in Mike’s face. Dyno reels but doesn’t go down, so OC swings again and again and again and again and again and again until Dyno has been chopped down like an old resilient sycamore, left on his knees with a broken nose. A Royal Rumble 1999 style chairshot finally downs Dyno-Mike who had no ability to get his hands up and the rush of adrenaline drains from Cassidy almost instantly, who can do nothing else in the moment aside from drop to his own knees.

Christian Cage: He snapped the minute that cigar touched his skin!

The camera cuts to show Phil Goode and Matt Sydal, who have brought their fight halfway up the ramp with blows flying from all ways. Eclipse is stomping over to their confrontation when the camera transitions to show Jetta and Christina King trading closed fist strikes. Laci Valentine seems like she’s gone through it in the moments not caught by the live broadcast, but she’s sat in the corner recovering from whatever last felled her.

One of Jetta’s punches turns into a swinging lariat, but it’s ducked and Christina King attempts a sidekick inspired by AWF’s commissioner that is avoided. A forearm on the comeback stumbles King and Jetta’s off the ropes - SWAN KICK! No! The leg is grabbed and used to push her whole body out of the way.

Laci Valentine has begun scaling the top rope, despite both brawling women not taking note. Jetta’s charging Christina King again - SWAN KICK!

Christian Cage: How the hell did she put that one together?!

Valentine wastes no time: HEAD OVER HEELS! The boots cave in Jetta’s gut! Valentine immediately goes for the cover! Christina King is there! Christina King is… -- just watching it happen?!

Cal Elton: ONE!.....

























TWO!........






























THREE!

DING DING DING

Laci gets off of her opponent immediately, apparently expecting a wild maneuver of violence from Christina King. But it never happens. Instead, the women catch a look in each other’s eyes that is held before King breaks it, dropping and rolling out of the ring.

Mark Beverly: The winner of this match, replacing Jetta at Gold Rush: LACI! VALENTINE!

Cal Elton grabs her wrist and raises her arm. The smile on her face cannot be removed, and only grows slightly when she notices Orange Cassidy, beat down but still armed near the fans, who gives from afar a slow limp thumbs up. Laci whipping her red hair out of her face to raise both hands to the crowd’s roar is the last shot before the commercial.

Laci Valentine wins the Toronto Tornado Turmoil in 6:39

---

Ahmed Johnson’s releases yet another shoot interview against Dwayne Johnson, because for some reason he genuinely thinks there’s some sort of comparison.

A Rey Mysterio commercial plays, but it turns out to be a rouse. Lieutenant Andorra emerges from Rey Mysterio’s face, revealing what was happening before was somehow just a green screen presentation. Priscilla Kelly’s face flashes for one extremely brief second before cutting abruptly to a close up of Lt. Andorra’s face. The scream as the commercial slow-fades out: ‘LUCAS!’

---

As the Best Friends make their way from behind the curtain for the Main Event, they are met with pretty loud cheers. Chuck is the first to exit, jogging lightly and looking out to the crowd, carrying the WCW TV Title that they took from DDP’s house, wearing his yoga gear from before. Trent follows behind, also wearing his yoga gear, with a slow, swaggering walk, and carrying a mannequin head wearing a blonde wig, and aviators. Eventually, they meet at the top of the ramp, throw their arms over each other's shoulders, wave to the crowd, and walk down to the ring, eventually dropping their arms, and both holding the title with one hand.

Mark Beverly: The following tag team bout, is set for one fall, and is your Main Event! Introducing first, from Racoon City, at a combined weight of four hundred six pounds - Chuck Taylor and Trent Beretta: THE BEST! FFFFFRIENDS

The duo eventually reach the ring, and pose to the crowd before Chuck Taylor grabs a mic from the time keeper, and sets the title over Trent's shoulder.

Chuck Taylor
Oh man, ooohhh man. Are we glad to finally be here in Toronto!

The crowd cheer at the cheap pop attempt by Sexy Chucky T.

Chuck Taylor
And we are even more glad to be in the Main Event here tonight against Mr Maximus Ironside, and that freaky goth chick. You see, we’ve been on a roll here so far in AWF. I mean, only a one match roll, but a roll nonetheless. And that roll is going to continue, because you see, me and the dude here-

Chuck chops Trent across the chest, getting excited.

Chuck Taylor
Have no plans on losing tonight! And then, me and my guy here

He chops Trent again, getting even more excited.

Chuck Taylor
We are going to go on to Gold Rush as the WCW TV TSN Tag Team Champions!

There isn't much of a cheer from the crowd, more of a confused silence, and some murmurs. Trent grabs the mic from Chuck's hand.

Trent Beretta
That’s right folks, because when we were out doing Yoga at our pal Diamond Dallas Page’s, we got this title, making us the first tag champions in AWF! And that means that we are going to accept any and all challengers from across the company, and defend this title until we don’t feel like it anymore!

Again, it’s more of a confused reaction from the crowd, with a few cheers and laughs from the fans in the Scotiabank Arena.

Trent Beretta
Now, as My Best Friend in the Whole entire world and universe Chuck Taylor has said, we got a match tonight with Ironside and Priscilla Kelly, and she’s gonna have that, *thing* with her too, that freaky guy that she treats like a dog. Now, that duo gives me the creeps really bad, I don’t even want to know what kind of shibari those two get into with their spare time. Can’t be anything normal though, judging by what we see in person. Those two belong in a Kinky cover band lead by Marilyn Manson and Tito Jackson.

Chuck Taylor grabs the mic harshly from Trent.

Chuck Taylor
Hey man, take it easy, you know how I feel about the Jackson 5. But one thing is sure, those two are definitely not Beautiful People, if you know what I mean.


He drives a kind of light hearted elbows into Trents side in a joking manner, laughing at his own pun, before gaining his composure back.

Chuck Taylor
But enough of us, I want to hear some people talk about us, so Max, or Priscilla, why don’t you come on out, and show us what you got!




The lights flash wildly enough to cause seizures and Max walks out to the top of the ramp, his mannerisms a contrast to the chugging guitar of Five Finger Death Punch's "Back For More".

Mark Beverly: Their opponents, first, from Battle Creek, Michigan, weighing one hundred fifty five pounds: MAAAXXX! IRON! SIIIIIDE!

Rather than paying any attention to the fans along the ramp that are clamoring for his attention, he keeps his focus on the Best Friends in the ring. He's already dressed for his match and he's got a microphone in hand as though he snatched one before stepping through the curtain. His smile looks hopeful for a second as he stops partway towards the ring, his music fading out slowly only to be replaced with the sound of his voice.

Max Ironside
Hey guys.

The smile lingers for a few more seconds as he looks back and forth between Chuck and Trent. When neither of them dive through the ropes and start trying to beat the holy hell out of him, he almost relaxes slightly, chuckling under his breath as he heads the rest of the way to the ring.

Max Ironside
So... uh... correct me if I misheard over the noise back there...

He cocks a thumb over his shoulder as he mounts the ring steps, pausing to wipe his feet on the apron before stepping through the ropes.

Max Ironside
But I swear I just heard you two say you're now the tag team champions? That you're bringing that belt... the one that's very obviously yours since possession is nine-tenths of the law and all that, and putting it on the line in tandem action here in Alberta Wrestling? That's really awesome of you guys. I'm sure that's going to bring in quite a few more teams who can't wait to face a tried, tested and true blue tag team like The Best Friends. I mean, seriously. That's absolutely awesome, isn't it, Toronto?

He turns to appeal to the crowd, getting a lame pop for the effort. 

Max Ironside
So, riddle me this then: does your offer extend to our match tonight? Are you planning to put that gold on the line against myself and Miss Kelly?

He takes a few steps closer to Trent, his eyes locked on the gold as if he's hypnotized by it. His bad hand reaches out as though he wants to lovingly stroke it but he catches himself and quickly uses the hand to scratch the back of his head instead.

Max Ironside
Not that I'm greedy, but after overcoming the odds in that three-way dance last PrimeTime, I'm feeling saucy. I'm feeling like Ash Ketchum, like I've gotta add more names to that list of legends and big stars I've defeated. Gotta catch 'em all, right? And I mean, taking that championship from you two just seems too damn good an opportunity to pass up! Show DDP that the title belongs around the waist of someone who respects it, someone who's gonna defend it instead of putting it on a shelf to collect dust. Who does that? It's so tacky. Obviously a belt that snazzy is meant to be worn. It's meant to be SEEN. So whaddya say, guys? Are we gonna make this a real sporting match or what?

The Handicapped Hero looks back and forth between Trent and Chuck as the crowd starts to grow a little restless.



The trio in the ring turn to look at the stage, and a rather unpleasant sight greets their eyes. Albert crawls on all fours once more, as Priscilla sits cross legged on his back, tugging at a leash in her hands that attaches to Albert's nose piercings. With every tug, Albert lets out a grunt of pain, before finishing off with a whimper of pleasure.

Mark Beverly: His partner, being accompanied by Prince Albert, from Moon Creek, Georgia, weighing one hundred fourteen pounds: PRISCILLA! KELLLLLLL! LLLLY!

As Albert reaches the end of the stage, she slowly lets herself slide off of the back of Albert, before grabbing at the mic that he holds in his mouth like a dog would a bone. As her music dies down, she speaks.

Priscilla Kelly
Jeez, who thought climbing up the card would bring me… here.

She chuckles, as she starts to saunder down the ramp.

Priscilla Kelly
But then I guess, people look at me and they don't exactly see a champion. That's their mistake of course, and maybe it's my mistake to not see potential in you three, but my god does the sight before my eyes make seeing that potential… hard. If I didn't know you were wrestlers, I'd be expecting a carer to emerge any second to show you back to your seats.

She laughs at her own joke, as she climbs up the steps and into the ring. She looks Ironside up and down, and raises a curious eyebrow, before turning to the Best Friends, and after looking at the pair for only a few seconds, grimaces.

Priscilla Kelly
You want them to put that title of theirs on the line tonight? That's very cute. When we win, you can keep it, Maxi Pad. Consider it your consolation prize, when I win the real thing at Gold Rush.

Priscilla reaches out and pats Max a few times on the head patronizingly. She turns to the Best Friends, as Albert approaches her from behind.

Priscilla Kelly
Of course, I won't be competing tonight. I'd get used to the musk of my doggy here, you'll be sniffing it in for at least 3 seconds when he pins you to that mat, more if he decides he wants to tap you out... and let's just say, it's a bit too much for some nostrils to handle. But then, you have been in a small room with DDP and his old buddies doing Yoga so…

Chuck takes a step towards Priscilla, locks eyes with Albert then slowly takes a step back.

Chuck Taylor
Hey! I will not stand here, and let you imply that my best friend is special needs! I’ll have you know, he’s a very intelligent man. We do NOT ride the short bus in this household! Show em Trent!

Chuck slaps Trent on the chest and hands him the microphone.

Trent Beretta
Boise

Chuck Taylor
(Leaning into Trent's mic) Capital of Idaho

Trent Beretta
Sacramento

Chuck Taylor
Capital of California

Trent turns towards the crowd.

Trent Beretta
Torrroontooooo

Chuck Taylor
The greatest city in the world!

The crowd gives a small pop that quickly dies down as both men turn back to their competition with goofy smiles on their face. Trent takes a step towards Ironside, puts his elbow on his shoulder leaning on him.

Trent Beretta
Now, Maxie. You are correct. We are the most tried and true tag team AWF, no! The whole world has to offer. You are correct, we are going to give it our all tonight against you two. You are correct! When you say we will take on all challengers for our titles.

Chuck stands in the background smacking the title with wild eyes. Trent takes his elbow off his shoulder and faces Ironside.

Trent Beretta
However, you are incorrect, when you say we will be putting these titles on the line tonight. We welcome any and all to challenge us. Unfortunately, Bruce Bret Bookerman hasn’t officially recognized us as the tag champions we rightfully are, so we can’t defend them. But, I do respect your hustle, and I like how gung-ho you are..Muttley (turning to Priscilla and pointing at her) and yes, that makes you Dick Dasterdly.

Chuck Taylor
(leaning into Trent’s mic) More like the Slag Brothers!

Trent Beretta
And you can call us Penelope Pitstop, because we always come out on top!

Their focus on Priscilla Kelly, they don’t catch Prince Albert rushing toward them until both of their heads are nearly decapitated with his double clothesline. In an instant: Priscilla rolls out of the ring, Max Ironside retreats to his corner, Albert grabs Taylor by the hair and tights to hurl him over the top rope, Don Quintillis requests the bell.

Ding!

A knee is dropped onto Trent’s face before Prince Albert drops to his knees to lay in punches. The neck is pulled awkwardly as he rises and Beretta looks like a toy with how he’s hauled up and swung around for the reverse STO facebreaker. A sadist only in the squared circle, a pinfall isn’t Albert’s focus as he forces Trent into the corner to kick and knee away at his seated foe. Both hands pull at the neck to bring Trent up, but his body recoils at the open palm chop Albert claps relentlessly in the middle of his chest. His massive palm claws around Beretta’s neck for a choke, and Don Quintillis isn’t having it.

Don Quintillis: ONE!




TWO!




THREE!




I SAID BREAK IT UP!--


FOUR!

Albert attempts to intimidate the referee but the senior referee has seen those like him. Another open palm chop forces another recoil, but Beretta’s body is soon found flying in the air anyway after the Prince chucks him to the other side. Trying to pull himself up via the other turnbuckle, the legal half of the Best Friends doesn’t notice until it’s much too late: the running splash into the corner that causes the crowd to oooo and aaah at its devastation. Albert backs up with a disgusted glare, Trent’s body falling limp to its knees and his head falling toward the bigger man, who catches it with both hands and begins to squeeze around the skull.

Lance Storm: A fiery start by Prince Albert. It’s almost as if everything he gets from Priscilla is pent up for these moments.

Prince Albert: Ask him ref!

Trent strains, arms trying to stretch out but limping as Albert seems to find a way to squeeze tighter and tighter without yet bursting the man’s skull to bits. Don Quintillis stays on one knee, trying to get a word out of Beretta, but only hollers are uttered.

Prince Albert: How’s ya head, Trent?!

A harder squeeze, a closer look by Quintillis.

Prince Albert: (Native Boston accent slipping in anger) Need a cawfee now, punk?! Want some Timmies?! Got something smart to say now?!

The grip is used to force Trent to both feet, Albert barreling his head down into Beretta’s face as he comes up, forcing the body right back down like a fifteen pound sack of flour. No letting up: an elbow drop to the heart.

As he sits following his execution, the Prince notices his Queen biting her lip and watching on intently from outside. She grabs her crotch, causing his widened eyes and initiates his drooling. He stands, still staring, but must have caught Max Ironside in his peripheral, because his head suddenly turns with dismay. Ironside’s head bops back and he’s suddenly on the defensive, darting ready looks at the two people who are meant to be his allies on the night.

Albert turns only to be met with a dropkick to the face from Chuck Taylor, who has decided to take matters into his own hands. As the big man recovers, Taylor tells the referee about something behind him that catches his attention, but it likely was just a ruse for Chuck’s plan: a low blow to Albert before rebounding off the ropes and taking the man back to the mat with a slingblade.

Christian Cage: He’s not even legal!

Taylor rebounds off the ropes - but Kelly caught his foot and he’s facedown. Don Quintillis reprimands the woman outside as an angry Prince Albert has recovered and attempts to gouge his fingers into the eyes of Chuck. The only reprieve is Quintillis’ attention turning back, and Trent having enough wherewithal to dispatch a swinging neckbreaker as the masochist is preoccupied.

The Best Friends gather their bearings together and tuck Albert’s chin under both their arms - double reverse vertical suplex leaves the man’s face on the apron. They await his attempt to build back his base, before Chuck Taylor rebounds off the ropes and in with a knee trembler that knocks right into Trent Beretta’s backstabber into Chuck Taylor’s superkick into Trent Beretta’s FameAsser! He hooks the legs!

Don Quintillis: ONE!....














TWO!.....



















TH--
BROKEN UP BY IRONSIDE

Lance Storm: The first cover of the match is a close near fall, and that’s because this action has not stopped.

The Best Friends do not waste time in returning to their attack, but Prince Albert shoos away their dual grapple once on his feet, sends another headbutt to Trent, and forces Chuck’s head into his own knee. The shot reels Chuck back towards the ropes as Albert stretches out his hand for Ironside’s enthusiastic tag. Over the top rope hops Ironside as Albert charges Taylor and clotheslines him to the outside.

Ironside is met with defensive shots from Trent as Albert chases Taylor to the arena floor. Max attempts to stop the flurry with an Irish whip that’s reversed; the springboard back elbow comes from unexpectedly, however, and connects. Trent’s shoulders are down.

Don Quintillis: ONE!.......

























TWO!......


















KICKOUT

Cut to the outside of the ring, where Priscilla Kelly annoyingly screams toward Chuck Taylor as Prince Albert sends blow after blow to the back -- until Taylor manages to shoulder block drive him spine-first into the ringpost. He shoulder blocks him again before committing to a sort of backwards head slam to the post. The Prince drops to all fours and down comes Taylor with a legdrop to the back of his head.

Inside the ring again: tilt-a-whirl backbreaker by Tr-- no, Max slips behind into a crucifix and into the pin now.

Don Quintillis: ONE!........

























TWO!............
















T---

KICKOUT

Trent rolls to his feet but his body folds at the velocity of Ironside’s fast and crisp corkscrew roundhouse kick to the head. Another pin.

Don Quintillis: ONE!..........

















TWO!........








TH--


KICKOUT

Ironside is back to his feet and to the ropes - but he doesn’t rebound! Suicide dive between the top and middle ropes! He takes out Chuck Taylor on the outside taking a page out of his own book!

Lance Storm: A wiley Max Ironside on display here.

Taylor lays against the ring barricade and Ironside’s focus is back into the ring. Trent catches him a superkick to the jaw the minute he’s back in, however, and hooks the leg.

Don Quintillis: ONE!...........



























TWO!.......




















KICKOUT

Trent at this point looks totally gassed, but won’t stop from crawling toward the ropes to use as support. Max looks groggy as he attempts to get to his, nearly falling back to the ground at one point thanks to the unsteady nature of his stance. The same ropes used for support are used for a springboard by Beretta, and it seems all Max can think to do is match the same move: the crossbodies collide! Both men’s bodies smack loudly together and land limply on the mat, Trent backflat, Max facefirst. Seconds go by and Quintillis has no choice.

Don Quintillis: ONE!






TWO!






THREE!



Prince Albert stirs on the outside as Priscilla Kelly pets his crotch like Vito Corleone might to a pussycat in his own grasp. In the same level of trance the Godfather might cast upon his mafiosos, her toy rises to a snarl and growl. Noticing Chuck Taylor sat barely moving against the barricade, his first action is to make this sure: bicycle kick to the downed Taylor! His body limps to the side.

Lance Storm: That could very well be the last we see of Chuck in this match.

Don Quintillis: FIVE!

Albert walks over to his corner with a determined walk.

Don Quintillis: SIX!

Onto the apron and his arm outstretched to his partner, who crawls on his belly at his best available pace.

Don Quintillis: SEVEN!

Ironside uses likely his last bits of energy to push his body up into better positioning.

Don Quintillis: EIGHT!

No, one last spurt! The jump! The count stops!





And the hand is pulled away! Max drops but no contact was made with Albert! The crowd immediately outbursts in boos while Priscilla can be audibly heard off camera laughing a raucous and proud laugh. Ironside looks up at Albert but doesn’t look surprised as the big man enters the ring, still untagged. Trent has pulled himself to his feet by way of his legal turnbuckle but isn’t ready for it: BICYCLE KICK! Again, Beretta’s body folds in half and he looks completely out of it.

Lance Storm: What is this all about? Is he going to be a team player or not?

Ironside has managed to pick himself to his feet, but he too isn’t ready for it: BICYCLE KICK! The boos grow as Albert grabs Trent’s body and places it over Max Ironside’s, Priscilla Kelly climbing the apron with her tongue sticking out.

Don Quintillis: ONE!........



























TWO!.........


















THREE!

DING DING DING

Even though the Best Friends’ music plays, no cheers are heard. The only people standing are the referee, Priscilla, and the Prince. Kelly enters the ring and jumps on Albert who catches her before engaging in a disgusting French kiss.

Mark Beverly: The winners of this match - Trent Beretta and Chuck Taylor: THE BEST! FRIENDS!

Kelly disengages herself and begins to stand over the pinning predicament - a situation which has not moved since being placed. Her face turns up and she steps back. Prince Albert seems to know what this means, grabbing Trent by his hair and his tights and sending him over the top rope to lay side by side with his ‘winning’ partner. After that, Albert grabs hold of Ironside with both hands around his neck before scooping him high up over his head with ease.

Christian Cage: Derailer! Yes! This is how you make a statement! It’s all about that World’s Championship! Soften him up dammit! That’s the only thing those two like soft, I’ll tell you!

Thirst still unquenched, Albert has another two handed choke grip on Ironside as a way to pull him up. A military press is employed and he begins to carry Ironside around the ring like a trophy. Priscilla watches intently, her lips wet with her own drooling spell at the sight. She begins to giggle like a giddy little girl when Prince Albert begins pumping Ironside like a smith machine shoulder press.

Christian Cage: Do you see this?! Do you?! Do you see your future World’s Championship duo?!

Prince Albert and his trophy face the hard camera and down: the military press Michinoku driver makes its debut! A bag of popcorn hits Albert on the shoulder as Priscilla Kelly’s music begins to play. The Prince looms over his vanquished as his queen steps over the fallen and begins to literally sit on Ironside’s face. A view from the arena floor’s broken bodies and then the apron up at the carnage inside the ring.

Best Friends d. Priscilla Kelly & Max Ironside in 12:51

Lance Storm: Wait a minute there’s something going on in the back! This again?!

Christian Cage: Isn’t that funny, Storm, how you only seem to get excited when something’s ‘happening in the back’?

The camera cuts to backstage catering where Big Homunculus and Big Snivley are into a fist fight with the Dracislav Twins.

Christian Cage: They’re not done yet!

Homunculus suddenly enters into the Tornado and catches Alaric in the dome with a shot that sends him to the floor. Kolotov is so far being able to rock Big Snivley back, but Homunculus’ added attention slows the proceedings. All of the sudden, Big Snivley goes into the air almost like Little Snivley did earlier in the night when a wild Leslie Jones appears and uses a Ruxx Rampede style pounce! Big Snivley goes through a table full of catering!

Christian Cage: What the hell?! It’s Leslie Jones! Conan and an AWF live appearance in the same?!

Suddenly, the arena double doors connected to where they’ve set up catering is kicked in. The camera zooms dramatically to the sight: a massive figure with a smaller one on his arm. The smaller figure looks almost like the grim reaper and keeps their head bowed, but the big figure is easily recognizable when the head rises, the skeletal teeth grinning underneath the shadow of the hood.

Massive Figure: BEHOLD!

With a certain care, he lets go of his embrace with the smaller figure and dramatically walks to the center of catering, all the proceedings stopping. The black robe is ripped off it is him: Barron Boneius, not at all looking unhealthy or unable to walk, instead looking even bigger and more swole.

Barron Boneius: Subterfuge! I have said it before: the most devious of wrestling’s evils! Your GOOD-BYE will be MINE! I have promised it and so it shall be cast! YOU DECREPIT DENIGRATED DEGENERATE!

Barron, Leslie, and the Twins equip themselves with some of the folded steel chairs placed along for sitting and grubbing and Big Homunculus finds himself encircled. He can do nothing but eat the many blows that wail away at him. Ruxx Rampede suddenly Sonic rolls in view and pops out of it to Rampede Stampede Alaric into the wall and through another catering table!

Christian Cage: What the hell is going on anymore?!

Barron Boneius himself lays in the headshot that sends Ruxx to the ground. The League of Evil begins wailing away at both bodies, the last sight as the show begins to fade out.

Christian Cage: Don’t miss us! Don’t miss! May 30th! Gold Rush! Gold Rush! Gold Rush! Gold Ru….

The repetition trails along with the fade.

END