Rampage 2011

Staples Center | Los Angeles, California | October 11 2011

The show will open with three GCW superstars battling it out for dibs on their first taste of GCW championship gold. Zip Gordon, Cameron Garret, and William Curr will face off with the winner getting first crack at the Television Championship, possibly leaving the Television Champion themselves if the championship is forfeited by Aaron Fujita.


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The video package comes to an end and fireworks explode in a cascade of red and silver pyrotechnics. A packed Staples Center goes wild as "Blow Me Away" by Breaking Benjamin continues to play. Tonight wasn't just another night in Global Championship Wrestling history, tonight was the first night night of the next generation of GCW stars. After tonight, the entire landscape of GCW will change.

We Are The Image Of The Invisible!

KINGSLEY'S GONNA KILL YOU.

Triumph, I need a job!

PUT ME IN A MATCH, I'M A HARDCORE ICON!


Yale: Holy hell, is that Bryan Mayhem without face paint?!

Bryan: Hello everyone from the City of Angels... LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA where the Rampage Tournament will FINALLY come to an end.

Yale: Yes JB, it seems like only yesterday that we started this tournament.

Bryan: It was August.

Yale: Really?

Bryan: Yeah, the Rampage Tournament started in August.

Yale: What is it now?

Bryan: November.

Yale: Holy...

Bryan: YES! Angels, Dave! Hollywood! Lights, Camera, Action! GCW has no shortage of action here tonight as we declare new #1 Contenders to the HDTV and United States Championships, possibly even new champions! Depending on the outcomes of the Rampage tournament.

Yale: My pick is "Well Known" Zip Gordon for the opening match.

Bryan: Actually, we're starting to hear reports that he never made it to the arena.

Yeah: Son of a...

Bryan: Brad Cruz and Shaman are FINALLY going to settle their rivalry tonight, and one of the two will walk out either the Vanguard or Hardcore Champion... or however in the world that's going to work. Got a favorite there?

Yale: Terrence Kingsley.

Bryan: That wasn't an option...

Yale: I know, I'm just trying to skip ahead, I think people have waited long enough for this thing and I...

Bryan: What about our World Cham...

Yale: TRIUMPH FROST! LET'S START THIS BITCH!

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The camera quickly goes backstage. Too the fans surprise, a mysterious car is shown as an unfamiliar looking man steps out. With a smug grin on his faith, he reaches his hand back into the car revealing this beautiful girl as she grabs his hand.

Unfamiliar Man: Finally…. The Staples Center in Los Angeles, California, for RAMPAGE! A Global Championship Wrestling pay per view!!!

As they were grabbing their bags from the trunk the fans could hear the commentators chattering.

Bryan: Is.. Is this the new guy we was told would be making a debut appearance tonight Live? And who is this woman with him?

Yale: Never mind who she is… the real question is how long she will be here and if they are a couple? Whoever this guy maybe, he looks like he is spectacular shape. There’s something about him I like already.

Unfamiliar Woman: Lets go, baby!

The camera switches back to Bryan and Yale as they continue to speculate.

Bryan: Fans, we were given knowledge and rumored that a new star was on the arise here in the GCW. Originally, we were told that this person was making a debut here in a few weeks as his/her contract negotiations were still on the way. As you can see, these people maybe the aforementioned "new stars!"

Yale: Yes, if they are the new stars, then I am jumping on their bandwagon quick…. Hopefully we will get better explanation for why they are both here. This night is already heating up to be super!

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Bryan: At WorldWide, Aaron Fujita shocked the world when he cashed in his American Dream during the main event ladder match.

Yale: Yeah. Then Fujita shocked himself when he grabbed the wrong freaking title belt and ended up the Television Champion instead!

Bryan: No matter what, Fujita captured gold for the first time in his career and Sally Ford is backstage with him right now.

The shot heads backstage where the beautiful body and face of Sally Ford fills up the screen. She is clad in her short skirt and skimpy blouse as usual, revealing her cleavage nicely.

Ford: Please welcome my guest at this time; the NEW Television Champion Aaron Fujita.

The camera pans to the right, revealing Aaron’s gaze in the direction of Sally’s bosom. He shakes his head slowly and continues staring.

Fujita: I just can’t believe it. They look so nice. But they should be bigger.

Aaron continues his gaze as the camera slowly pans out to reveal Aaron holding the Television Title in front of him. His gaze lays upon the face of the belt.

Fujita: These belt plates should be bigger. This should be the United States Title in my hands.

Ford: Aaron, you surprised everyone when you interjected yourself into the title for title ladder match at WorldWide. What was going on inside your head during that encounter?

Fujita: Sally, the plan was really simple. I waited for the perfect moment to spring into action. All I had to do was get to the ring, climb the ladder and snatch the United States Title away. They always say that plans are easier said than done and at WorldWide this was true for me. I should be holding the United Title in my hands tonight.

Sally nods and moves on to her next question.

Ford: Now that everything is said and done, how do you feel about becoming the Television Champion?

Fujita: Obviously I’m disappointed that I didn’t get the US Title, but at the same time I’m proud that I captured my first title ever. I know the kind of competitor I am inside the ring and I think everyone else is finally realizing it too. I stand before everyone tonight in the semi-finals of the Rampage Tournament and the TV Champion. It’s hard not to notice.

Ford: Now the question that is on everyone’s mind; if you get past Desade and into the Finals of the tournament, will you forfeit the Television Championship to pursue the shot at the World Championship?

Fujita smiles and glances back to the Television Title before placing it on his shoulder.

Fujita: It’s been a hard decision to make, but after careful consideration I’ve come to a conclusion. It’s taken me years to earn my first title in my career. The competition level in GCW is high as it is, let alone vying for the top prize. At WorldWide this TV Title found a new home and I’d like to keep it there for a long time to come. So not if, but when I make it into the finals of Rampage, I will be foregoing the opportunity to become the number one contender for the GCW Championship. I feel like I’ve still got some heads to turn and I want to do that with this Television Title hanging from my shoulder.

Ford: That’s a good way to put things into perspective Aaron. Good luck tonight. James, back to you.

Sally smiles as Aaron walks off screen.

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Bryan: Folks, we are live here in Los Angeles at the Staples Center for Rampage! Let’s get things started!

With that, "Amazing" by Kanye West and Young Jeezy kicks up, as out walks Cameron Garret.

Andrews: The following contest is a number one contender’s triple-threat match for the Television Title! Introducing first, from Tacoma, Washington, weighing in at 225 pounds. He is the Amazing Superstar…CAMMERRONN…GARRRRRREEETTTT!!!!

Bryan: This is a big opportunity for these three newcomers.

Yale: Many youngsters have come in and used the TV title as their gateway to stardom. Jay Terror, Triumph Frost, and Johnny Borealis immediately come to mind.

Bryan: Well, this isn’t officially for the TV title yet. If Aaron Fujita goes on to the Rampage finals, he would have to forfeit it, and the winner of this match would take the Television title by default.

Yale: I’m surprised you managed to complete that sentence with a straight face. Like Fujita’s got a chance…

Bryan: Stranger things, Dave. Stranger things.

As they bantered back and forth, Garret got to the ring. So that totally happened.

Yale: No offense to Fujita, or he can take offense, whatever, but Desade is nothing short of a superstar in the wrestling world. She’s barely been here a few months and she’s already clearly left her mark.

Bryan: It’s a World title shot. It can make people go above and beyond.

The lights slowly begin to flicker and soon after go completely out. The distant high pitched sounds begin to buzz throughout the arena and the crowd erupts into cheers as the guitar rifts of "Moving in Stereo" by the Cars slowly hiss to life. The lights flicker back and William Curr steps out before the crowd, throwing his arms out in acceptance of all in attendance.

Andrews: And his opponent, from Chicago, Illinois. Weighing in at 235 pounds. He is "COURAGEOUS" WILLLLLLL-IIIIIAMMMM….CURRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!

Bryan: Curr has the upper-hand in this match, I think, in terms of experience and success so far.

Yale: Yeah, but not by much.

He quickly jogs down to the ring, slapping hands with all in reach, until rolling under the bottom rope and launching up into a leap of joy. He runs over to a turnbuckle and throws an arm up, leaping down to the mat soon after and going to his corner with confidence blooming from his posture and expression.

Bryan: Upper-hand is upper-hand, any way you cut it. And frankly, he probably stands the best chance to be a threat to Fujita if Fujita remains the TV champ.

And then they wait, as Zip Gordon’s music plays, but I don’t know what it is because he fucked off the roster page and fucked off in general, and I’m not tracking it down, so for the sake of argument, let’s just say that it’s "Last Friday Night" by Katy Perry because it was playing overhead at the supermarket I frequent to buy booze and taco shells and toothpaste and shit and I fucking hate that fucking stupid song so it made me shop faster, which is good because I hate food shopping.

The point is it plays, and he’s nowhere to be seen.

Bryan: Where’s Zip Gordon? He was scheduled to be in this match.

Yale: Maybe he had a stroke. Who cares? That geezer smelled smelled like moth balls and Geritol.

Garret and Curr get uneasy in the ring, as does the ref who again, not looking, so it’s probably Hal Jenkins. Which is totally is after I did check, so, HA!

Bryan: Should we keep waiting?

That’s when, out of nowhere, the sweet sounds of KISS’s "New York Groove," which is a pretty cool song, blasts out from the Staples Center speakers.

Bryan: Is that…?

There’s confusion at first, but when "Limited Edition" himself, Theo Palmer, steps out from the entrance, he gets a hearty welcome back.

Bryan: Theo Palmer is back!

Yale: Oh man! The Ted part of Red and Ted’s come back from the dead!

Theo Palmer is, of course, followed by his brother Lawrence, and the two talk some game on the way to the ring. Curr and Garret look at Jenkins. Jenkins, in turn, looks at Andrews, and shrugs. So Andrews holds the mic up.

Andrews: And their opponent. Accompanied to the ring by Lawrence Palmer. From Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Weighing in at 240 pounds. He is "Limited Edition"…..THEEEEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOHH…..PALLLLLLLLLLLLL-MERRRRRRRRRR!!!!

After some Palmer bros. conversation, Theo slides into the ring and the other two give him some breathing room.

Bryan: Well, Curr had the most experience before, but the return of Theo Palmer clearly adds not only a shock factor to this match, but possibly the pendulum in his favor.

Yale: He’s tussled with the big boys for sure.

Jenkins calls for the bell, and an uneasy alliance seems to stem between Curr and Garret, as they immediately gang up on Palmer.

Bryan: These two probably didn’t game-plan for Palmer, so this might be the best course of action here.

They smash into him with lefts and rights, but suddenly, Palmer gets the upper hand, and he gets both reeling. They try to break his brief bout of firing up by whipping him to the ropes, and when he comes back they try to double-clothesline him. He ducks underneath, however, and when he comes back, they have barely enough time to spin around before both are nearly decapitated.

Bryan: Palmer is on fire in the early going!

Yale: He’s the most veteran-savvy of all the participants, so he knows how to play this game quite well.

Palmer keys on Garret, being the slightly smaller of the two, and lays into him hard with boots. Suddenly, Curr is up, and now assisting Palmer in beating down Garret.

Bryan: So much for loyalty.

Yale: Hey, I doubt those two even really knew each other before making that ham-fisted agreement. Besides, kill or be killed, as my mom always said.

Curr picks up Garret, and commands to Palmer that they do a double suplex. Palmer nods, kicks Curr in the gut, and drops him with a DDT.

Bryan: I don’t think Palmer likes being told what to do.

Snapping back up, he kicks Garret in the stomach, too, just for the hell of it, and DDTs him, too.

Bryan: Palmer is firmly in control right now.

Yale: It’s his match to lose.

Palmer takes a break, and hears his brother Lawrence call over to him. He heeds the call, and the two talk a bit of strategy in the downtime, maybe plans after the match or about banging these other two’s girlfriends after the match. Whatever. I doubt you care, anyway.

Bryan: Palmer might want to watch out. He should be closing out this match, not talking shop.

Yale: He’s got this one clear in the bag. He can do whatever the hell he wants as far as I’m concerned.

Palmer goes over to Curr first, but forgets that Curr was the one he took down first, so Curr has some extra energy built up and catches Palmer off-guard, grabbing his neck and swinging him ‘round with a spinning neckbreaker.

Bryan: Curr just caught Palmer napping right there!

Noticing Garret is starting to get up, Curr goes for the kill there, locking in a front face lock and bringing him over with a textbook vertical suplex.

Bryan: And now Curr has things in hand! This is quite a back and forth affair.

Curr reaches over to pick up Palmer, but Palmer bundles him up in an inside cradle. Jenkins jumps down to count.

ONE…

TWO…

THR-KICKOUT!

Bryan: And Palmer tried to return the napping favor!

Curr is up and pissed, and goes right at Palmer, but Palmer ducks, and instead decks Curr, sending him right to the mat. In comes Garret, however, but Palmer sees him coming and whips him to the ropes.

Bryan: These guys have to be on alert at all times. One small mistake could spell the end.

Palmer awaits Garret coming to him by bending over, hoping to backdrop him, but Garret pulls up before hitting Palmer, instead kneeing him in the face.

Bryan: Big counter there…

With Palmer backtracking, Garret runs forward and lariats him over the top rope.

Bryan: And over the top he goes!

Garret seems pleased with himself, but when he turns around, Curr is waiting. He kicks Garret in the stomach, and Garret hunches forward. Curr takes opportunity, and brings Garret up and then down with a Tigerbomb, holding on for the pin.

ONE…

TWO…

KICKOUT!!!

Bryan: Curr almost surprised Garret big time!

With Palmer now just climbing up, Curr tries to keep him down and kicks him in his bald dome.

Bryan: Curr doesn’t want any possibility that

He drags Garret to the middle of the ring, and grabs his legs. He signals, hooks up the legs, takes the step over, and ensnares Garret in the Sharpshooter.

Bryan: Sharpshooter! Curr’s signature move! He has Garret smack dab in the middle of the ring with nowhere to go!

Garret howls out in pain, and Curr wrenches back, but Garret refuses to give. Curr locks on even tighter, but his motor functions suddenly escape him when Palmer, now back in the ring, kicks Curr in the back of the head and sends him face-first to the mat.

Bryan: Palmer broke up the hold!

As Palmer unceremoniously dumps Curr from the ring, Garret gets up and sways about, unsure of where he is, which allows Palmer to hoist him over his shoulders, swing him around, and…

Bryan: HOODWINKED!!

Garret’s face smashes on the mat. Palmer flips him over and hooks the leg.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!!!!!

The bell rings, and the crowd cheers.

Andrews: The winner of the match, and the NEW number one contender for the Television championship…..THEEEEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOHH….PALLLLLLLL-MERRRRRRR!!!!

Bryan: What a win by Theo Palmer in his return!

Yale: From nobody to number one contender. That’s what Rampage is all about, baby!

Bryan: And if things

Yale: Gawd, will you stop saying that? It’s not ever going to happen.

Bryan: You don’t know that.

Theo jumps out of the ring and celebrates with his brother as they head to the back. Meanwhile, Garret and Curr are left to pick up the pieces of coming up short.

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Backstage, there is a sign. That sign reads: "Alexandra Pierce". Beside this sign stands a blonde. Her name is Sally Ford.

Sally Ford: Fellas, I'm standing by here outside the locker room of Alexandra Pierce, where it's my understanding that the Rampage semifinalist is being tended to by staffers.

Sally looks to the door, which is still tragically immobile, leaving her to fill.

Ford: Now, rumor has it that Alex suffered what we're told is an injury to her left knee during her somewhat controversial second round victory over Alexander Redding back at WorldWide 154, but the Pierce camp has thus far declined comment as to her status going into this match with new Television Champion Aaron--

The door bumps open, a seventeen-year-old girl walking backwards through it. Her name is Quinn Gregory; she's the Devil's Daughter, and, as the kids say, she's on a mission, yo.

Quinn: No, it's cool, I've got it taken care of. I'll just grab some ice, and--

She bumps into Sally, who's a slip of a thing, and Quinn has something of her mother's physicality.

Quinn: Oh, jeez, I'm--sorry. Such a klutz.

Sally: It's no problem -- we're live on pay-per-view now, Quinn, so the fans are going to want to know... what is your mother's condition? She has to wrestle the new Television Champion here in just a few minutes, and if she wins, the specter of Terrence Kingsley hangs over this tournament.

Quinn: Right. I know. Johnny, too. I just... I don't know. It's just--

''Quinn, who's--''

It takes a voice from within for the camera man to get brave enough to find a wider shot of the doorway, revealing a little, tattooed redhead kneeling in front of somebody who's blocked by the wall -- but considering Amy Campbell is knelt down icing and helping stretch that somebody's knee, it's not hard to figure out who it might be.

Aimz: Oh, God.

She rolls her eyes at the crew's appearance and briefly looks up to her companion, patting the side of the mystery knee.

Aimz: At least it's not making that weird crackle-pop feel it had earlier, right? And don't worry about them - I'll deal with it.

And that's precisely what she seems intent on doing, popping up to her feet. She's briefly distracted, having just gotten her first good look at Sally Ford.

Aimz: Whoaboobs.

Okay, so the distraction's a little more than brief, because Amy's incredibly short attention span is easily harnessed by shiny (or large, in this case) objects and, even if she's not looking at them like, say, your average male would, let's be honest - Sally isn't hard on the eyes and boy, does she seem to like low-buttoned blouses.

Aimz: Did the company pay for those? I never got an offer - it's kinda disappointing, even if I wouldn't take it. I mean, that's some… some pretty great work, and I think I'd look good with--

It's the Devil's Daughter who nudges her almost-kindasorta-stepmom back to reality.

Quinn: Ames?

Aimz: Right.

A quick shake of her head later, Amy Campbell remembers why she looks kind of annoyed.

Aimz: Why are you even here bothering her, guys? She's determined to wrestle, and we all know she's going to. Trying to get Quinn to give something up is a little cheap, yeah? So maybe you should just--

Ford: Well, this is a good enough starting point. Amy, we've seen your more public conversations in the past few weeks regarding the Rampage tournament and who your… your Alexandra might wind up in the ring with. Given your history with Terrence Kingsley…

Aimz: Nope. I know where you're taking this, and you can throw that question back.

Ford: But in the last year, Kingsley has--

Aimz: Everyone knows what he's done, okay? I've still got next to no field of vision in my right eye. Why rehash it? The guy is psychotic, but I know Alex can succeed where I didn't. I know it. She's another kind of fighter - thinks ahead, has a method. He can't scare her like he did me, but I doubt she's happy about all of his efforts to, so he's got a real problem on his hands if he finds her across from him when all's said and done. You don't need to come around, trying to ramp up the drama or--

"Hey."

It's something of a pained croak, but there can be no mistaking that voice, whisper-soft and diamond-hard. Alexandra Pierce appears behind Amy Campbell, left leg bent so only her toe touches the tiled floor, much of her weight held up by a hand on the doorframe. Whether it's that one word or her other hand, gently touching the Red Raver's hip, Pierce's presence does what many would argue it's always done: quiets the little redhead's pitbull temper.

Pierce: No need to yell.

Aimz: I'm not yelling.

She totally was.

Aimz: I'm just sick of... of these people who want to question you. Question us. Terrence Kingsley is not unbeatable, okay? He's... he's just not. You've already beaten him once.

Pierce: Two years ago now.

Aimz: Yeah, and nobody has beaten you since last Christmas. So how come nobody ever talks about how hard it is to beat you? Or how scary you are?

Ford: We do, hon.

Grumpy Aimz is grumpy; not being scheduled to compete, knowing what her lover is facing tonight -- two matches inside three hours on a leg that damn well looks closed to incapacitated, nevermind whether one of those involves the Pit Viper that has gone out of his way to make their lives hell -- has left the little redhead more than a touch edgy.

Aimz: Don't call me that, okay, "sweetie"? Or would you prefer "sugartits"? I have half a mind to--

Pierce: Aim.

It doesn't even take her full name to rein the fiery Canadian in, though she does fold her arms in a pose that just dares Sally to misstep again.

Pierce: I know what I signed up for, Miss Ford. I know what I'm facing. I know the rest of the world has the finals penciled in to be Terrence and I in the rubber match of our little series. But I'm not ready to look past Aaron Fujita, and I'm damn sure going to be ready for Johnny Borealis. Do I want it to be Terrence? Of course I do, and I've made no bones about that. But I didn't sign up for this tournament just to get a piece of him. I could've done that in the parking lot. I'm here to win, and I'm not going to let my knee injury or a couple of doctors get in the way.

Ford: And what do you say to fans who wonder if your leg really is injured? To those who question whether or not this is some elaborate hoax?

Aimz: "Get a life"?

Ford: Can you really blame them? She's standing there in a t-shirt proudly declaring herself to be the "Queen of Lies", and these fans have -- rightly -- pointed out that this kind of... of "long con" play was your speciality long before you were the "best wrestler in the world". So can you really blame them for scouring the 'net for photos of you out and about after WorldWide? Can you say people shouldn't have looked over the video of your match with Alex Redding frame-by-frame? People have a right to be skeptical, Alexandra. You've given them plenty of reason over the years to do so.

With those allegations on the table, it's much harder for Alex to contain her tattooed counterpart, and Amy takes a threatening step toward Ford.

Aimz: If you're so bent on getting a good interview, how about you don't act like we're living in the comments section of a shitty blog? I don't know what your personal issue here is, but cut the stupid fucking smear campaign - I'm the one who's had to watch her hobble around the house all week, and I'm the one who'll happily lay you out for--

This time, it doesn't just take one Pierce to stop Campbell, but two.

Quinn: Whoa, whoa, whoa... Ames! Ames, chill. Chill, okay? Just because Sally my pally here asks a good question y'know, once doesn't mean that you should go nuclear on her. Frost is already pissed at you for the bikini contest bullshit and kept you from having a payday on a second straight pay-per-view. Don't give him an excuse to go for the trifecta.

Gregory turns, and Ford is given a firsthand reminder of the teen's parentage, as her bespectacled glare freezes the blonde in place.

Quinn: Hi. I'm going to use small words so they penetrate that thick skull of yours, but there's this thing you may have heard of called, uhm, marketing? See, that's when you come up with clever slogans and such in order to sell t-shirts or hats or lunchboxes. These things aren't necessarily true, they just sound cool. For instance, I'm the Devil's Daughter, but neither of my parents came from the fiery pits. And Viv Valentine is the Bulletproof Blonde, but that doesn't mean she'd pull the Superman pose if some yahoo drew a gun on her. You with me so far?

Ford: Yeah, but--

The girl puts a finger to Sally's lips.

Quinn: "Yeah" would've been sufficient. Yes, Mom has a... a history of stretching the truth. For six months, she did double duty under a plastic mask and a pink wig, just to worm closer to people. I think that was pretty neat, but she's not real proud of it. I don't really expect you to believe me -- I mean, I don't know about Aimzsy, but I'd totally say this even if it was a lie. I do expect you to be professional about asking my mother questions, though, and if you're not, you should ask good old Helmethair Goldstein what might happen.

"I'd listen to her if I were you. Quinny is a sweetheart, but I wouldn't mess with her and I'm her godmother."

That voice isn't Alexandra Pierce or Amy Campbell, and if you're up on the sometimes complicated relationship map around here, you know that Quinn Gregory is the goddaughter of one Kathryn Marie Shaw, who'd be the tawny-haired vixen in skintight jeans and a white tank (but no bra) wandering up to join them with a garment bag slung over one shoulder and a wheeled suitcase dragging behind her. Shaw's presence shouldn't be much of a surprise -- it was her staged wardrobe malfunction that opened the door for Alex Redding to get socked in the jaw with a foreign object, after all -- but you wouldn't know that based on the look on Amy Campbell's face.

Aimz: What are you doing--

She spins to the one-legged Spider.

Aimz: What's she doing here?

Shaw: Oh, hon, like I was gonna miss this?

Kathryn's brows arch, her grin slithering further on her lips.

Shaw: Lexi signed me to a manager's contract, remember? I have a responsibilty to be here. I'm just running a little late, so... where can I get set up? I have to change before I -- before we go out there.

Aimz: Tell you what - you can set up right out here and talk to this chick about the wonders of breast implants. Meanwhile, Quinn and I will actually be useful and continue to help Al out on one of the biggest nights of her career. Sound good? Sounds good.

Shaw: Not like we could strategize out here, silly. If Lexi isn't 100%, it seems like we should have a plan, you know?

Once again, Amy steps forward - and if her lunge seemed gentle, her glare certainly doesn't.

Aimz: We're just fine without your special brand of planning. There're better uses for you, I'm sure - like getting us snacks. I could go for some nachos, personally. Either way, try getting the hell out of the way, 'kay?

Kathryn looks from Amy to Alex, and her hands come up innocently.

Shaw: All right, all right. Just trying to show I've got that kind of rah-rah team spirit. I guess I can do that via nachos. But I am going out there, because whether you like it or not, Lexi needs me out there.

Aimz: Yeah, like she needs a bat to the knee right now.

Quinn: C'mon, Aim, she's here, she means well.

Aimz: I know perfectly well just what she means.

Pierce: I'm sorry, do I get a voice in this? I am standing right here.

For once, Sally is smart enough not to say anything.

Pierce: Well. As close to standing as I get these days.

Aimz: And you don't think we could be spending our time prepping you for a match instead of listening to Kathryn tell us her latest plot to show her tits for ratings, or this chick trying to convince the world you're faking a banged-up knee?

Alex tips her head sightly, shifting just that cool gray gaze to Ford.

Pierce: You'll find out what shape my knee is in at the same time I do -- tonight in that ring. Kathryn is right -- my knee is going to be an issue, and we'll face that as we face everything. Together. Now if you'll excuse us... this is the longest I've stood in two days, and there's still a little time for some therapy before I have to wrestle, so...

Shaw: See that? She said together. But if this is code for some freaky threesome…

Aimz: Why are you trying so hard to get your teeth knocked out? Really, why?

If Kathryn answers, it's lost in the women's return to Alex's locker room, and despite learning absolutely nothing these past few minutes, Sally turns towards the camera again, a smile plastered to her lips.

Ford: Well, there you have it, fellas -- looks like we will all find out together what condition Alexandra's knee is in, and whether she's the Queen of Lies or just a one-legged Spider. Back to you.

Yale: Sad part is, you know she's waited all night to say that.

Bryan: Fans, once again, it seems like Alexandra Pierce's knee might really be damaged here as we go into this match with the Television Champion. It's something we certainly will have to keep an eye on as the night continues.

Back to Top


Cut to backstage, more specifically a shiny, golden name tag slotted into an oak door. It reads: Triumph Frost. It triggers this sort of response from fans:

"BOOOOOOO!!"

The door swings toward the camera, and by the time its operator can move around, we’re looking at the back of Alexander Redding’s head, and the legs of the barely legal blonde that poses as assistant to GCW’s Chairman, poking out under the desk.

Sheila: Um, can I help you?

Redding: You sure could, and I’d call you by whatever name your proud parents gave you, but our readers won’t remember as soon as the scroll down. I was looking for a few good minutes with our boss.

She fiddles with the keyboard of her laptop which she was so obviously not playing solitaire on before looking back up at Red.

Sheila: No, I’m sorry... whoever you are. Triumph’s booked solid, and you know he’s got that match for the oversized, ugly belt thingy.

Redding: Uh-huh. And he totally isn’t just behind that partition that I can see over? That looks like our stage crew got lazy and just repurposed Palmer’s cubical? Complete with Palmer’s nametag in marker still on it?

Sheila: Pretty much, yes. Exactly.

Redding: How the fuck did you find someone dumber than Murr Jr. to work the desk, Frosty?

When Frost spots Redding peeling back the cloth half-wall, his first reaction is obvious.

A vacant stare. Two quick confused blinks.

Triumph Frost: Who the hell’re you, now?

Before beginning to answer, Redding scans the second half of the office, noting the empty glass and the half empty bottle of bourbon on top of the desk, covered as to show less legs than, see, I told you – you’ve already forgotten her name.

Redding: I don’t really think I’ve ever met you sober, so I won’t take all that much offense. Besides, it’s good to see someone so in the spirit of Oktober Fest. It is Redding; Alexander - fucking - Redding. And I need a minute of your time.

Triumph gives Redding a once over. He fervently scratches his right temple. His phone rings, and he groans, checking it and subsequently ignoring it. He turns his half-attention back to Redding, the other half looking at his phone, which won’t stop ringing.

Triumph Frost: Whatever you’ve got to say, you’ve got forty-five seconds. So, uhh...

He scoops up his phone, and without looking at Redding...

Triumph Frost: Go.

Alex stands, not sure if Frost was talking to into the phone, or him.

Redding: Is that the monkey? Could you ask him exactly what the hell I’m fighting for tonight? And don’t disappoint me and say this silly-assed maybe title, probably not a title match idea was from any board member than Murr Jr.

Triumph initially takes the comment in stride. But it doesn’t take long before he flashes that knowing smile.

Triumph Frost: You know what? I like you.

He leans forward across his strong, thick, once-a-tree desk.

Triumph Frost: You’re not a punk bitch. And that? It ain’t common, I tell ya.

Redding: And I got to say I’ve liked what you’ve done with the place, Shaman in a bathing suit aside.

Triumph leans back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head.

Triumph Frost: You know, if Borealis gives up his title to take a run at finally making something of himself? Shit...that'd be something else, wouldn't it?

His smile is knowing. Pretentious, even.

Redding: So you’re telling me that all I got to do to jump up from gate-keeper to possibly, fuck it, probably US champ is just have Johnny give it up?

There is a mischievous glint in Alex’s hazel eyes at the thought. A twinkle forms in Triumph’s.

Triumph Frost: You were expecting something epic?

Triumph chuckles.

Triumph Frost: Of course, I could always just give it away to someone else, you know...

Red takes a look back to the bit of partition he ‘accidently’ knocked over.

Redding: And I could go grab Ted and reclaim our cubical, but I think I’m good with the title shot. Oh, and thanks by the way. For that thing.

Triumph flashes a knowing smile.

Triumph Frost: Right.

He straightens up random items on his desk.

Triumph Frost: Now, if you don’t mind...

He places a random item in its proper place. But not before looking back at Redding like the man took a big, fat dump on his desk.

Triumph Frost: Get the fuck out of my office.

Redding: Yeah, fine. Not like I’d want you to offer me a swig of that. I’ll leave you to... whatever it was that I interrupted.

Alexander makes his way over the fallen partition, past the blond.

Redding: You stay classy now, Barbie.

Triumph chuckles, watching Redding leave, before focusing his attention back to his phone.

Back to Top

Bryan: And now we get to the name they put on the tin: the 2011 Rampage tournament. In just a little while, we'll see the new United States Champion, Your Guilty Pleasure, Johnny Borealis take on a man whose only GCW loss came via disqualification when he smashed a fluorescent light bulb over Alexandra Pierce.

Yale: I remember that, that was cool.

Bryan: But first we'll see the new Television Champion, Aaron Fujita, who won that title in the very same match that Johnny won the US title, only because he pulled the wrong belt down when he interjected himself into the ladder match between Johnny and Karina Wolfenden.

Yale: It's an easy mistake to make -- belts are shiny. I resent people questioning Fujita's intelligence for not knowing which was which.

Bryan: But if Fujita wants to make it to the finals, he'll have to defeat a woman who is undefeated in all of 2011 over TWO federations. Alexandra Pierce has defeated nearly every champion in PRIME, and she put down the self-professed Vanguard Champion here in GCW. It's possible that she'll have to go through two more tonight, though I'd say that isn't what the Spider in the Web is hoping for, Dave.

Yale: Yeah, as if you need proof that Alexandra Pierce is a whackadoodle, she's actually HOPING that she gets her hands on Terrence Kingsley later, no matter what condition her leg might be in.

Bryan: But that may be the big factor -- Pierce missed a risky moonsault kneedrop at WorldWide 154 and has clearly --

Yale: Or seemingly. This IS the Queen of Lies we're talking about.

Bryan: She's injured her knee in some way, shape, or form, and you know that the Atmospheric Phenomenon is going to focus on it rather extensively.

Yale: Maybe he'll shoot lightning at it.

Bryan: Let's go up to the ring, as Joey Andrews has the particulars!

Joey Andrews is so unexciting that he doesn't have a roster page on the GCW site. True story.

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, THIS is the first of two Rampage semi-finals bouts, scheduled for ONE FALL with a thirty-minute time limit! Introducing first!

The slow and soft opening guitar riffs of "Breathe Into Me" by RED hit the sound system. Ten seconds later, the music becomes heavy and loud. The crowd lets out a mixed reaction as Aaron Fujita pushes through the curtain with some pep in his step and the Television Title hanging from his shoulder. He stops at the top of the ramp and looks out to the crowd for a few seconds before heading towards the ring. His walk turns into a trot and then into a run, leading him to the ring.

Bryan: Nine times out of ten, any champion would be a favorite in their match. But the wave of momentum Alex Pierce has been on since SCCW's closure is like a tsunami.

Yale: Too tsunami.

Andrews: He weighs in at 225 pounds and hails from Plainfield, Illinois; he is "The Atmospheric Phenomena" Aaron Fujita!

Aaron slides into the ring and pops up to his feet. He heads for the ring ropes that face the camera and steps onto the bottom and middle ropes. He leans forward, thrusts the TV Title into the air and yells. Aaron's music fades and he steps off the ropes, taking off his shirt and preparing for the match at hand.

Bryan: Fujita now awaiting the final GTT champion.

He doesn't have to wait long, as the lights in the Staples Center spiral out from the cheap seats down and around to the front.

Andrews: And HIS opponent!

It's the MegaTron that lights up first, white words on the black screen.

"The weather forecast for tonight: dark." - George Carlin

Yale: Is she REALLY taking a potshot at the weather thing?

Bryan: Maybe she just likes George Carlin.

The quote dims, and the music begins with the same a cappella open that we've seen for the last few weeks, the beginning of Hurt's "Wars".

Show me a smile on your silly face
'Cause I'm gettin' tired of this human race
My darling


As the guitars and the drums kick in, three spotlights reach out of the black, cutting through the fog that billows out of the entranceway to illuminate the trio rising into the arena on an elevator.

Andrews: Accompanied to the ringside area by both her--

That's when the low, throaty purr cuts our Mr. Andrews off. There's a grin in Kathryn Shaw's voice, but then, there always is.

Shaw: Joey, sweetie, you weren't about to just blow past the introductions, were you?

Andrews: I was going to read what was on the cards...

Shaw: Allow me to put a little bit of oomph into it.

On "oomph", Kathryn steps off the elevator, and one of the spotlights trails her to the top of the ramp. That dress (it's too short to be called a down, really) is the blue of the deepest part of the ocean, and it glitters like moonlight playing across the surface. As for the rest, there are some things you should have learned by now: a tumbledown of wavy, tawny brown hair, legs that go on for miles, the very best breasts that money can buy, and full, kissable lips which always seem to be curved into a smile that promises only the best of very bad things.

Shaw: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girl and sybarites of all ages!

Yale: What's a sybarite?

Shaw: Allow me to present to you not one, not two, but three of my favorite people in all of the world. First, the hometown girl gone bad gone good! From up the street in Beverly Hills, she is the sensuous, the seductive, the -- not gonna lie -- little bit salacious Siren of professional wrestling! Ladies, lock up your husbands, because this hussy is looking for some action! I give you... me!

Yale: I'd say I want to give that woman babies, but I think that might defeat the purpose.

Bryan: I'm not sure what to make of all this... pomp and circumstance. It seems unlike the typically businesslike Pierce.

Shaw: And over on the right hand side! My goddaughter! The DEVIL'S daughter! She is the one and only heir to the Pierce Family wrestling dynasty! The quick-witted! The quixotic! GCW's resident nerd bait -- just over a hundred more days, pervs -- QUINN! Gregory! Pierce!

The second spotlight hits the second figure, and there's color to the teen's cheeks as she lifts her hand. Her particulars will become just as common: tall even though she prefers sneakers to heels; long, Wednesday Addams; thin, stylish eyeglasses; skinny jeans that are probably a bit too tight for underage girls to be wearing on national television; and a new, nerdy t-shirt, this one an authentic, hunter green House Slytherin quidditch easy with her last name stitched across the back.

Shaw: But forgive me, Aaron, we're getting to you, because this! This is the woman that is going to pound your pointy head flat! This is the main attraction! The lady of the hour! The -- Jesus Christ, Lexi!

The Siren's spiel comes to a screeching halt as the third figure onstage collapses like a marionette that's had its strings cut.

Yale: Uh...

Bryan: Fans, I don't... there's been speculation all week that Alexandra Pierce's one might have been seriously damaged during her match with Alex Redding, but we didn't -- I mean you all saw the interview with Sally Ford earlier. People were honestly wondering whether she was fling it but....

Kathryn hasn't shut off her headset, and we get her whispered admonition for Quinn not to touch her.

Yale: So does that mean Fujita wins?

That seems to be what the Atmospheric Phenomena is wondering as well, as he exhorts Cameron Wrigley to ring the bell.

Bryan: The ref slides out of the run to check on the condition of the Queen of Lies, but her daughter plants herself in the way!

Yale: What is she thinking?

Bryan: Quinn refusing to let Cameron Wrigley past, but it seems like she's more concerned about the TV champion taking advantage!

Yale: But he doesn't need to! He just has to wait for Wrigley to--

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Yale: Do that!

Bryan: There's the bell! Alex Pierce now has only until the count of ten to make it to the ring!

"ONE!"

Yale: Would this be the shortest Rampage semifinal match ever?

"TWO!"

Bryan: It may be!

"THREE!"

Bryan: Shaw and Gregory switching places now! Kathryn stalks to ringside while Quinn slips in to her mother's side!

"FOUR!"

Yale: I'd listen to her.

Bryan: Shaw begging Cameron Wrigley to stop the count, but the TV champ is having none of it!

"FIVE!"

Indeed, Fujita steps up to the ropes as the Siren climbs up onto the apron and he's making yappy hands at her. This is not something Kathryn takes kindly toward -- the resultant slap echoes through the Staples Center.

Yale: ...ow.

Bryan: Cameron Wrigley onto the apron to separate the TV Champion from Kathryn Shaw!

Yale: Shouldn't this match be over? The scrawny chick can't even get her mom up!

Bryan: The count has stopped and -- wait a minute.

One of the cameramen rolls under the bottom rope and climbs into the ring, shedding a baseball cap to reveal a head of rust red hair.

Bryan: That's Pierce! That's Alex Pierce!

Yale: Then who is Quinn struggling with?

Bryan: Pierce limps over to Fujita! Alex grabs Fujita's arms and twists him over! Pierce hooks Fujita!

Yale: This is unfair!

Bryan: Pierce -- MASTERMIND! THE MASTERMIND! SPINNING IMPALER! Fujita just got spiked!

Yale: What the hell is this crap? They set Fujita up!

Bryan: Shaw off the apron! Cameron Wrigley turns around -- Pierce drapes herself over!


ONE!!







Yale: I can't believe I'm going to say this, but NOT LIKE THIS!




TWO!!!





Bryan: Alexandra Pierce has STOLEN a --



THR--


Yale: HAND ON THE ROPES! HAND ON THE ROPES!

Bryan: Aaron Fujita with a hand on the ropes to break the count! Fujita rolls out of the ring and collapses on the ground!

Yale: Someone needs to stop this crap. I can't believe that they went through all of this just to try to steal a win. How bad is her knee?

Bryan: Pierce struggling to her feet with the aid of the ropes! She's waiting for the TV champion!

Now that the fracas has moved to the ring, we get a shot down the aisle, and that's a mannequin, not a person.

Bryan: Fujita struggling blearily to his feet! Alex on one leg, stepping onto the bottom rope! She shoots out -- oh! Both feet to the chest of the TV champion! Fujita staggers back against the rail!

Yale: And Alex sort of staggers after.

Bryan: Many people would tell you that Alexandra Pierce is the fastest competitor in GCW, but that's clearly in no way the case tonight. She's using the injured leg to kick with--

Yale: No choice. She can't get any push-off power with the bad wheel.

Bryan: But that means she's taking a chance, as we've just seen there! Fujita slides along the barricade, and Alex kicks steel! Aaron is on it immediately! Boot to the side of the leg puts Pierce down to her knees, and Lord! Did you hear that kick? Superkick to the kneeling Spider sends her head over heels on the thin mats at ringside.

Yale: And that bad knee connected solidly with the ground!

Bryan: That it did, Dave. Think of how much of Desade's offense is based on her knees. If this injury is serious enough, not only will she have problems pushing off, but also can she jump?

Yale: Not to mention the Spider's Kiss.

Bryan: That's right! Pierce's primary finisher involves her driving her knee into her opponent's face! Will she even chance that?

Yale: I wouldn't.

Bryan: Fujita smartly rolls into the ring, just long enough to break Cameron Wrigley's ten count, then he's back out after her! Sliding double-foot dropkick to the injured leg! He slides up to his feet and takes hold of her ankle --

Yale: He's gonna pound her like a tent stake!

Bryan: No! Pierce rolls through! She rolls through and catapults Aaron Fujita into the steps! Alex using the ring skirt to help her up and --

There is a "THWACK!" and there is a "THOOM!".

Bryan: Good Lord! Savate kick to the back of they GCW Television Champion's head sandwiches him against those heavy steel steps! His brain has gotta be rattling around in his skull!

Yale: This is a guy who couldn't tell the HDTV Championship from the United States Championship, despite the fact that Borealis strapped neon lights to his belt. His brain has rattled around enough, I'd say.

Bryan: Pierce rolls in under the bottom rope, apparently content with a countout.

Yale: If she wants to be able to walk to the ring for the finals, that may be her best bet.

Bryan: And now Cam makes the count! He's been getting a lot of work in tonight!

"ONE!"

Yale: Oh, you know he loves it.

"TWO!"

Bryan: The Spider takes a seat in the corner, trying to stretch out that injured knee while she keeps an eye on --

"THREE!"

Bryan: Fujita rolls over onto his back! This is the second time she's rung his bell!

"FOUR!"

The Atmospheric Phenomena scrubs the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to remember what state he's in.

"FIVE!"

Bryan: He'd better move faster! Fujita only has till Cameron Wrigley gets to ten or this thing's over!

"SIX!"

Bryan: Four seconds away! Pierce is just four seconds from having survived this match!

"SEVEN!"

Yale: It's not over yet, JB!

Bryan: Fujita yanks himself to his feet!

"EIGHT!"

Yale: Shaw!

Bryan: Kathryn Shaw attempting to intercede again, giving the TV champ her best come hither!

"NINE!"

Yale: Get in the damn ring, Aaron!

While it's unlikely Fujita actually heard Dave, he does manage to roll in under the bottom rope just before Wrigley raises the tenth figure.

Yale: He resisted temptation! Aaron Fujita is a better man than I!

He gets to his feet slowly, offering a half-hearted apology and a rude gesture to the vixen on the floor -- but he's not out of the woods yet.

Yale: Look out behind you!

Bryan: Kathryn still has Fujita's attention! Pierce sneaking up from behind! Aaron turns--SPIDER'S KI--

Yale: No!

Bryan: Blocked! Fujita keeps hold of the legs! He flips the Spider over -- single leg crab! The single leg Boston crab!

Yale: Look at her flailing! Just how bad off IS her knee?

Bryan: Alex Pierce desperately reaching for the ropes! Fujita's gonna do it here! Can he make the Spider tap?

Yale: He's survived two separate plots to steal this match! Now the righteous shall claim victory!

Bryan: Look at the agony etched on Alexandra Pierce's face! How long can she POSSIBLY hold out here? Quinn pounding on the mat, trying to encourage her mother! The fans here at the Staples Center clap in time!

Yale: She's a cheater, you idiots! She's tried to rob us from having a competitive match! Why are you still cheering her?

Bryan: Pierce crawling! She's stretching! Alex Pierce trying everything in her power to--

Yale: Maybe he is smarter than I thought, JB!

Bryan: Fujita drops down! He drops down and locks in an STF! I can't think of anyone else that has ever grounded Desade like this, and he's done it mere inches from her own daughter!

Yale: Tap! Tap, you--wouldn't it be great if Kingsley won out and she had to watch from the sidelines?

Bryan: And Pierce has gone limp here, Dave! Has the Spider passed out?

Yale: Wussy girl.

Bryan: That's one! Cameron Wrigley checking to see if Alex is still conscious! Two! If that hand falls for a third time--

There's a loud roar as it stays aloft.

Bryan: No! Pierce is still in this! Now, fight, Alex! Fight for those ropes! Fight for--

Yale: Hey! That kid is a menace, JB!

Bryan: Quinn pushing the bottom rope TOWARDS her mother! And Cameron Wrigley has seen just about enough of these shenanigans! Cam is on the floor and -- c'mon! She's only seventeen, dammit! Wrigley is ejecting Desade's daughter from ringside!

Yale: And she's not going quietly. What'd I tell you? Menace.

Bryan: Meanwhile, back in the ring... Alex's hand is hovering over the mat! How much more can she take?

Yale: How much will they let her take?

Bryan: Shaw! Kathryn has slipped out of her heels and slithered into the ring! The Siren -- she's digging those fingernails into Fujita's eyes to break the hold!

Yale: How is that fair? Tell me that.

Bryan: Fujita doesn't think so, either! He's got Shaw! He's got Kathi Shaw by the hair and--

Yale: Now let's not be hasty here!

Bryan: He's calling for the Quasi-Geostrophic Theory! Fujita calling for the QG-Theory! She's not a wrestler!

Yale: Yeah, well, when you act like one, you'd better be prepared to be treated like one, and now she's going to get dropped on her... on her pretty little head oh man don't do it Aaron!

Bryan: Wrigley has finally gotten rid of Quinn and he's trying to convince Fujita not to--Alex!

That's about all JB can get out, so this is probably going to need one of these terrible "paragraph" things. Fujita lifts Shaw for the QG-Theory, but he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns just as Alex manages to leap onto the middle rope and spring back for a flash kick. Aaron sees it coming, and he ducks it, but that means he has to let go of Kathryn in the process.

Cameron Wrigley however? He's not as lucky.

Bryan: Good night, Irene!

Yale: Disqualification!

Bryan: That was an accident! Pierce levels the ref, but she can't follow up! Fujita up quickly, he pulls her towards the corner -- he's going for the Corrective Inhibition here! That inverted 450! BOOM!

Yale: She's been squashed flat! You could count to a hundred!

Bryan: But there's nobody around to even count to one!

Fujita counts the pin himself before he goes to revive Wrigley.

Bryan: Aaron Fujita trying to wake up the referee here! A lot of people may have said Fujita was a marked underdog in this match, but he's been a step ahead of one of the craftiest people in all of wrestling all match long!

That sound you hear is every man in the Staples Center wincing at the same time.

Yale: But she's not alone!

Bryan: Kathryn Shaw just DESTROYED the testicular region of Aaron Fujita with that kick! Fujita crumples, but Pierce has rolled to the floor! Shaw slips out on the other side! She's pounding on the mat! I think the next person to get up might just have this match, Dave!

Yale: And that is the iron cajones of Aaron Fujita!

Bryan: Fujita using the ropes to get to his feet!

Yale: The ropes and the size of his balls, JB!

Bryan: He spares a glare for Kathryn Shaw and stalks over after Pierce! She's just getting to her feet on the far side of the ring! She's got one hand wrapped around her midsection after that devastating splash, and that knee has got to be screaming at her! Fujita steps up to the bottom rope and reaches over to grab hold of her and --

A puff of pink liquid explodes over her head.

Bryan: The mist!

Yale: Pink mist? What does that one do?

Bryan: Fujita is blinded! Fujita stumbles back into the ring! Alexandra slides under the bottom rope and--

Yale: What the hell was that?

Bryan: Running blockbuster type maneuver!

Yale: Is that even in her playbook?

Bryan: Apparently, it is now! Fujita goes airborne and gets spiked! Fujita was parallel to the mat and he never saw it coming! She drapes herself over him and hooks the leg! Wrigley crawls over!



ONE!!!








TWO!!!!







THREE!!!

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Andrews: Here is your winner, advancing to the FINALS of the 2011 Rrrrrampage Tournament -- Alexandra Pierce! DEEEEEEEEE-SAHHHHHHHD!

Bryan: Whatever that was, it's gotten Pierce a tremendously hard-fought win over the Television Champion!

Pierce flops out to the floor, and Kathryn plants herself between the cameraman and the Spider, but given that her joyful little hop does wonders for her upper body, he doesn't mind.

Yale: Something's fishy here. I'm telling you. Something's...

The apron skirt rustles as Quinn darts down to the ring to raise her mother's hand. She's still got an arm draped across her midsection and is putting almost no weight on her leg.

And she looks confused, too.

Yale: What the hell did they pull?

Bryan: Alex seems to be wondering the same! Pierce --

Yale: Where did she come from?

The "she" in question is another redhead, about the same size, with similarly styled hair, except she's buttoning up a black blouse.

Bryan: That's Drusilla Devonshire -- Alexandra's ex-girlfriend! They used to call her the Little Troublemaker in SCCW! Did they--

Yale: They pulled a switch, JB! That wasn't Pierce that hit that move!

Bryan: I... I don't know what happened there, but Cameron Wrigley has raised the arm of Alexandra Pierce, and now Drusilla steps in and--OH!

Yale: WH-WHAT IS GOING ON!

Joe Schmoe reference just for Mr. Swills. Time for another Paragraph.

Alexandra Pierce's sour expression only got worse when she saw the women previously known as both Mischief and Malice (and arguably both). Dru nudges aside Cameron Wrigley to raise Pierce's hand, and when they briefly face each other to turn to the other side of the crowd is when she strikes.

Bryan: Spider's Kiss! Pierce with the Spider's Kiss on Devonshire!

Yale: I think I actually SAW her eyes roll up in her head!

Bryan: Drusilla is DONE! Whatever chicanery Drusilla might have engaged in, Alex clearly didn't want anything to do with it!

Yale: But at what cost?

Bryan: Pierce doesn't get right up back up! Alex clutching her knee -- we said the Spider's Kiss might hurt her as much as the person she delivered it to, but I don't think we imagined that.

Alex shoves Shaw aside, allowing her daughter to help her backstage. In the ring, Aaron Fujita demands that Joey Andrews present him with his television title belt.

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, STILL the GCW TELEVISION CHAMPION! AARON! FUJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITA!

Clutching the back of his head, Fujita stumbles against the ropes and flops to the floor, his title overhead.

Yale: Fujita got hosed, man. Big-time.

Bryan: Be that as it may, Alexandra Pierce is one step away from what she wanted -- a match in the finals with Terrence Kingsley. But what condition will she be in -- and will Kingsley be able to pull out a victory over the United States Champion in order to do it? We'll find out.

Our last shot before we cut backstage is Drusilla. She still has not moved.

Back to Top






The Swaggerer has his arms crossed and his Oakley-shaded eyes directed at the floor as he paces backstage. The US Title is unceremoniously clutched in one hand and he is already shirtless, oiled, and warmed up for a fight with a Pit Viper. The crowd boo’s because that’s what they’re supposed to do. That’s the way he’s entertained them to react, and they fall right into it.

Your Guilty Pleasure, Johnny Borealis, stops his pacing and looks up, lets out an audible sigh, and scans both directions of the corridor before shaking his head. Uncrossing his arms, and letting the US Title drag on the ground, he turns to leave and almost runs over a Barry Goldstein, who is out of breath. Borealis pauses and Goldstein goes to lean a palm on the US champ for support, but Borealis cooly sidesteps so that Barry leans on a wall.

Borealis: Bout time. I can’t wait around all night for one of you girls to stick a mic in my face.

Barry Goldstein is still huffing and puffing, bent over like he’s trying to decide whether he wants to pass his third kidney stone in as many weeks or throw up on the ground. He holds a "one minute" finger up to Borealis, who re-crosses his arms and lets out another small sigh.

Borealis: Goldstein. For fuck’s sake, man, go for a jog once in a while.

Goldstein: I...[wheeze]...had to...run...[huff]...across the building...

Johnathan Fitzwillis is not without pity. It just has to be reasonable.

Borealis: That’s a shame. In the meantime, I’m going to go fight another human being in a minute or two. Why didn’t one of the broads get this interview over with so you didn’t have to have an aneurysm right in front of me?

Goldstein shakes his head, still sucking wind.

Goldstein: Refused. [wheeze]...Ayake...Sally...[puff]...wouldn’t talk to you...

With a man wheezing like a bronchitis patient right in front of him, a legitimately puzzled look finally crosses the former-HDTV champion’s face.

Borealis: Hmm. Don’t know what crawled up their fish factories.

Bryan: Johnathan "Borealis" Fitzwillis hasn’t exactly been carving out a respectable reputation among the women of GCW lately.

Yale: Let’s see. He scared the hell out of Ayake a few weeks ago, he almost committed statutory on Alex Pierce’s daughter, and last week he went ballistic on Karina Wolfenden. I wonder why Ford and Ayake won’t interview him.

Whatever. They’re just breasts with legs anyway. He glances with impatience at a slowly recovering Goldstein and raises his arms out to the sides before dropping them down.

Borealis: Alright. I’m here. Can we get on with it?

Barry Goldstein has worked his way to leaning on his knees. He’s got one hand on the wall, one hand on his good knee, and he seems to catch control of his breathing. He lets out an audible "hoooo" of relief as his eyes stop watering. Now with only some heavy rasping, he is able to hold up his microphone and act quasi-professional.

Goldstein: The...your title. Is, uh...are you...kinda light headed here...dropping or no?

Your Guilty Pleasure’s eyebrows peak in the middle, a whisper of worry actually crossing his face on the off chance that Barry Goldstein might be suffering a TIA in front of him. Choosing his words carefully, he answers slowly.

Borealis: Was that...a question about whether I’m dropping this belt?

Goldstein nods his head instead of answering.

Borealis: Why would I do that?

A dry swallow. Barry finally seems to master his lungs.

Goldstein: As you know, from this point on in Rampage you can only have one or the other. The belt or the ability to challenge for the number one contendership.

Borealis: ...and?

Goldstein: ...I mean, I assumed you would be dropping the US Title. So that you can go for the gold-

Borealis: Drop...the title. So that three carpet munchers can scramble around for it later, right? So that they suddenly have a belt that none of them earned thrown into the ring with them. So that their match can actually mean something, is that it? Is that what you mean?

Goldstein looks from side to side, unsure if he should answer, but slowly nods his head in the affirmative. Johnny Borealis, in reaction, clutches the silver belt in his fist and raises it up.

Borealis: Get this straight. I took the lowest form of a championship in this place and gave it a legacy. I made the Television Title into the HDTV Title...I single-handedly carved a place for it in the next echelon of competition. I crushed everybody who came after me for it. And after everything I gave for it, after everything I did with it, what took it from me?

Again, Goldstein isn’t sure if he should answer.

Goldstein: ...Aa-...Aaron Fujita?

Borealis: An over-excited child who cashed in his shot at this-...this piece of tin here. A shot where he didn’t have the balls to come down and actually beat Wolfenden for it. No. He had to run down while she was engaged with me. And he proceeded to show his mental capacity when he grabbed my HDTV Title by mistake. And then our beloved leader, Triumph Frost, refused to set things as they should be. I, meanwhile, earned this United States Title. I ripped Wolfenden’s reign down right from under her.

He cocks his head to the side.

Borealis: Fuck that. I am not giving this to those goddamn beggars. Fujita can’t read, or tell the difference between colors, and screwed up. Now he has a belt he didn’t earn. Triumph Frost gets an inheritence, his parents’ money, and now he’s bought his way into a position of power he hasn’t earned. For fuck’s sake, am I the only one left around here who actually earns what he gets?

He shakes his head and holds the US Title up to Goldstein’s face to hit the point home.

Borealis: I am not just going to drop this so that those talentless fucks can go rewarded for nothing. Yet another case of people in this company getting something handed to them. Fuck that.

Borealis shoulder bumps Barry Goldstein, almost toppling the poor guy, as he storms off, toward the ring and toward The Pit Viper Terrence Kingsley.

Back to Top

The Staples Center is still high on adrenaline and firing on all cylinders from the first Rampage Semi-Finals match, and they’re about to get a double dose of it! Given the participants of each, GCW security and staff have taken precautions to make sure that Alex Pierce and Aaron Fujita have had time to put distance between themselves and the ring area, and we’re ready to start up the second Rampage match of the night!

Bryan: Ladies and gentlemen, after that brutality it would usually be a long shot to say we are expecting something even worse. But in this case, I’m ready for anything.

Yale: You got that. Terrence Kingsley has hospitalized more people than car crashes, and he’s got his sights set on one thing: meeting Alex Pierce in the Rampage Finals.

Bryan: The once squeaky-clean Johnny Borealis, meanwhile, has had a particularly nasty few matches. He got more nasty than used to against Dynasty, and then in a non-tournament match with Jimmy Thunder, resulting in both of them leaving with injury. Then last week things got very ugly with Karina Wolfenden which resulted in two titles changing hands, some blood, and some booing from the crowd.

Yale: Yeah, well, Terrence Kingsley is going to do a whole lot worse than chip Johnny’s tooth.

The shrieking voice cuts through the arena like a fucking knife.

"CALL 9-1-1 NOW!!!"

Skrillex's "First of the Year" blasts in right at the bass drop. The fans are still cringing from the cacophony as a quick burst of pyro draws all eyes to the entrance way.

Yale: Oh for crying out loud! Can wet set an obnoxiousness limit on people’s entrance music!

Clad in black baggy cargo pants, black Doc Martens, and a pair of Oakley's, Johnny Borealis carries himself onto the stage exactly the way he wants: with all eyes on him. The crowd's reaction is more than mixed, and it's ice cold.

Andrews: Making his way to the ring...from Aurora, NY...weighing 195 lbs...Your Guilty Pleasure...The Swaggerer...JOHNNY! BOOOOOOORRRREEEEAAALLIIISSSSSS!!!

The swagger is there, alright. Every step is a gift to the crowd, with the HDTV Belt resting on one gorgeous shoulder. The man is lean, refined, and charged up to deliver. The smirk on his face comes from how amused he is at himself; his whole purpose of existence is to get the crowd loud and on its feet, and he couldn't give less of a shit if it's because they love or hate him.

Bryan: Borealis held the TV Title, or as he dubbed it, the HDTV Title for almost an entire year before Aaron Fujita erroneously cashed in his American Dream shot on that belt instead of the US belt. After enough confusion to grind the show to a halt, Triumph Frost went ahead with both titles changing hands.

Yale: And if you ask me, this kid’s playing a coward’s game. He had the chance to give up that belt and go for the big time, the number one contender-ship of the World Title. Instead he decided to hold on to the US Title, and if he manages to squeak past Kingsley and then by the grace of God manage to overcome Alex Pierce...he won’t have a shot at the main stage.

Bryan: There’s nothing wrong with him trying to build a legacy with the US tier the way he did with the TV tier.

Yale: Oh please! He knows he can’t beat Kingsley or Pierce. They’ve both stopped him cold twice, and he’s holding on to that belt because he knows if he drops it then he’ll end up with nothing!

Sliding into the ring, he hands the US Title off to Joey Andrews, cracks his neck, and looks ready to wreak some havoc.

Andrews: His opponent...

Cue "Caution" by The Chameleons.

Andrews: Hailing from Li Grand Zombi...he stands 6’1", and weighs in at 235 pounds! ...The Pit Viper! ...The Curse! …TERRENCE!!! KINGSLEY!!!

The crowd is jeering and booing nobody thus far, as the stage is bare with the strobe lights blinking and the lasers dipsy-dooing every which way. Kingsley has yet to enter.

Bryan: Kingsley made a mess of Ryuji Kamigawa last week. He absolutely all but ended Amy Campbell the show before that. He’s already beaten the holy hell out of Borealis twice-

Yale: And if his opponent had a brain in his body, he’d be running for the door instead of standing there waiting to take another beat down.

Borealis’ eyes are glued to the entry way, where Kingsley has yet to emerge. After a few awkward moments, the lights come up to full and the music unceremoniously dies out. Some random "BOO!"s ring down from the crowd, and Borealis puts his hands on his hips and smirks in disbelief.

Yale: LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! … Nope? Okay, sorry. Just figured that would work.

Bryan: I’m with you. I’m waiting for Kingsley to swoop in like a hawk or materialize on the turnbuckle or something.

Another minute of silence, save for the impatient booing from the Staples Center crowd. David Fellows and Joey Andrews lean over and have a few words into a headset, and Fellows proceeds to walk over to Borealis. He starts to explain something to him, and Borealis’ mouth contorts into a snarl as he starts shaking his head and yelling "No! No! Get him down here!"

Bryan: Folks, it would appear that Terrence Kingsley isn’t present. We’re getting word from the back that he hasn’t checked in, nobody has apparently seen him tonight...we’re not sure what to think.

Yale: Tell you what I think. Johnny Borealis stole a bunch of money and gave it to him if he promised not to show up tonight.

Bryan: I’d think it more likely that Alex Pierce ran him off the road, or that he’s currently passed out drunk in a dumpster.

Fellows looks apologetic as he shakes his head and Borealis, then leans over and calls for the bell. Johnny B all-but loses his shit in frustration as Joey Andrews makes it official.

DING! DING! DING!

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, GCW gives its deepest apologies. Terrence Kingsley has not been able to make it tonight, and so this has been ruled a No-Contest. Your winner by default: Johnny Borealis!

The crowd boos. Borealis shouts at David Fellows. Yet again, Terrence Kingsley has found a way to wreck havoc on GCW, this time without even being present.

Bryan: Well unfortunately we aren’t going to be able to bring you the brutality that was promised. But I can assure you that this has only added fuel to the fire for Johnny Borealis to want to barrel past Alex Pierce later tonight!

Yale: Maybe so. But it’ll make it even more impressive when Alex Pierce, who has already wrestled a match, pummels a fresh and fit Johnny B in the finals.

Just as Borealis picks up his title and starts to head off, an acoustic chord strikes on the PA system and he freezes. The lights start to dim, and the crowd starts to cheer in reaction to some possible action, as the song "Dear Mr. Fantasy" by Big Sugar starts to blare in over the audio system.

Bryan: Wait just a damn minute! Could this be Kingsley!?

Yale: I don’t know, but he’s already forfeited the match. He waited around a little bit too long!

The first verse and the first chorus end, and the arena returns back to silence. After an incredulous look of disbelief, Borealis motions for a microphone. He shakes his head and finally fills the arena air.

Borealis: Well I don’t know what that was about. And I don’t know why The Pit Viper decided to turn tail tonight, and frankly both of those things just work to piss me off.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

Borealis: Yeah, yeah, yeah. At least I give you something to boo. At least I’m here, like I have been, every fucking show, out here in front of you to give you all the best entertainment you can get! At least I’m out here busting my ass, busting it for all you ungrateful bastards that are so quick to judge, so quick to turn on a dime, just because suddenly somebody isn’t to your liking.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

He almost smirks, but he can’t hide his disgust for the Staples Center crowd.

Borealis: Since I’ve been back last September, I’ve given you people my all every. Single. Event. I’ve shattered the record for a title, giving it a new name and a new legacy until Aaron Fujita proved he’s colorblind and can’t read. Until Triumph Frost gave me this piece of tin-

He holds up the US Title, completely devoid of love for it.

Borealis: -that I ripped off that bitch’s waist. And in my last three bouts, I’ve ended three more careers, just like I’ve ended Michael "Spitfire" Stevens way back in 2005. So I guess that’s my role around here. And if you ingrates want to boo, you go ahead and do it.

Oh, they do.

Borealis: Meanwhile, I guess I’ve inherited this belt on the fault of Fujita. And I’m choosing to keep it even after I rip Alex Pierce apart. Now that I’ve got the GCW United States Title for the third time in my life, I’m going to do the same thing I did with the HDTV belt. And if there’s anybody that thinks they can take it from me-

And just like that, Hail To the Villain’s "My Reward" kicks in-

Back to Top






The lights dim on the crowd and the US champ in the ring. The look on Borealis’ face, that of impatience, fades to something of a surprise when the curtains part.

Redding: Okay, okay. Confession time: I was never really a gangster from nineteen thirty-four.

Standing on the stage, dressed in his ring gear, the Joker’s ugly grin splashed across his left thigh, is Alexander Redding. He’s got a grin of his own, listening to the reaction from the crowd picking up a few decibels as the newly returned Theo Palmer strides onto the stage, beside him. Palmer’s already showered and thrown on a pair of stressed jeans, KISS t-shirt.

Redding: Johnny, don’t let me stop you now. You were on a roll. Something about how you’ve set new standards...

Palmer: Ending careers...

Redding: Yeah, that was the one that tickled me the most.

Unimpressed, Your Guilty Pleasure looks extremely bored as he raises the mic.

Borealis: You sure that tickling feeling wasn't your partner's beard? Caressing your skin as you two love birds did the Montreal Mombo in the back?

Alex shakes his head, but his ‘I know something’ grin won’t shake.

Redding: Real funny, Jonathan. I was going to mention how I wiped clean my group for this Rampage tournament, ending every single one of their careers. Before that, a veritable who’s who of the who’s that: Fathom, SnackPak, Swindle, hell, Palmer and I ran out every last one of those ‘Saints’. And I didn’t get shit for it. But that ends, tonight.

Palmer: Do you remember our match in Baltimore?

Redding: The one where you spent the money you owed us on escaping Alex Pierce.

Palmer hesitates and interrupts their till-now-seamless back and forth.

Palmer: I thought he spent it on hookers.

Redding: His crew swiped it and spent it on hookers.

Borealis, now with his trademark Oakleys back on, stands in the ring and crosses his arms, motioning for the two to make some sort of point.

Palmer: You owed payment. We settled on future considerations.

Borealis: Yeah. I remember. I remember that you two pitiful mercenaries, whoring yourselves out for a buck and a shot at a spotlight, let me hire Thing One to protect myself against Thing Two. And then you both disappeared back into obscurity for a while.

He shakes his head and raises one arm in defeat of the guessing game.

Borealis: Who fucking cares?

A slow, Cheshire smile peels across Reddings face as he milks the moment.

Redding: Consider us your moral support for tonight. We’ll be the ones pushing you to greatness tonight, as you face Ms. Pierce for a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship!

RRAAAAHHHHHH!!!

By this time, the dynamic duo of Red and Ted have made it to the base of the ring. Theo Palmer stops, crossing his arms while Redding continues the slow waltz around to the announce tables.

Redding: Are you listening to these people? I mean, man, what a main event for them tonight. She's only beaten you, what? Twice. In a row. And here you stand, having beaten the only other two people that have bested you around this place. Last week you went all temper tantrum on K-Wolf, and now you get the sweet smell of win by default against Terrence Kingsley. So how fitting could it be that you go against the last bastion of people who've beat you in the Rampage Finals?

RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Redding: How many people wanna see Alex Redding kick the shit outta Johnny Borealis!?

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Redding: And how many wanna see him kick the shit right back at her?

RAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!
BOOOOOOOOO!!!


Alex Redding can't help but smirk, and despite himself nor can one Johnathan Fitzwillis. That little attention whore.

Redding: And John, if you want to be giving it your all, you’ll be giving up that US Title, so that you can show you've got the balls to go for that number one contender spot.

Feeling the oncoming confrontation, Your Guilty Pleasure grabs tighter to the title slung over his shoulder. He splits his attention, turning his head every other second back to Palmer, then to Redding.

Borealis: Ah. I see. Here I was thinking you came out here to be some sort of conscience. To point out how much better the Rampage Finals would be for a World Title shot at stake for both of us. But, lo and behold, you're just another jackoff...looking for his handout.

He throws another look at Palmer and shakes his head with a dismissive smirk.

Borealis: You want me to drop this belt, so that your little three way is actually worth something later. Well I have no intention of giving in to the demands of Occupy The Ringside.

BOOOOOOOO!!!

Redding: It’s a hell of a dream Jonathon, but don’t think it is anything more. Look, I’m trying to be nice about this, but this is what you get for leaving your debts outstanding. Now either you’ll drop that title, or we’ll be dropping you. And it’d be a shame too...because here you are with an advantage over Pierce, for once. You're fresh out here, having escaped by the grace of the divine the wrath of Terrence Kingsley...and you're gonna waste it, you're gonna get beat on, because of a title belt you don't even want.

Beneath the shades, Borealis is staring a hole through Redding. He is walking slowly backward to the ropes when he gets back to looking at Theo Palmer, now with a steel folding chair in hand. It’s a glance to the rafters and a heavy puff of his chest. The crowd starts to buzz with the anticipation of the fight.

He grabs the US belt with both hands, ready to use it like a club against the first Canadian that enters the ring. After a moment of standoff, though, he catches his own reflection in it. Holding a piece of tin whose only worth is who he took it off of. Holding on to it will not recreate what he did with the HDTV Title...it will only remind him of the gamble he didn't take, the chance he threw away, just to play it safe.

Alex Redding has made his way on to the ring apron, and Theo Palmer with chair in hand is on the opposite side. Behind the Oakley's, hazel eyes slowly glance at each one of them before returning to center. He shakes his head, bundled the US belt in one hand, and holds it out an arm's length before raising the microphone again.

Borealis: You know...I've done a lot of things for spite. And holding on to this thing will only be the latest of them...

BOOOOOOOOO!!!

Palmer still isn't sure if he should commence with the hitting, but Borealis looks up at the still-present referee David Fellows and nods him toward his outstretched hand. Fellows approaches, and Johnathan Fitzwillis releases the US Title into his custody.

Borealis: Have fun fighting for your tin.

Alex Redding smirks as Theo Palmer relaxes.

Redding: A pleasure doing business with you, Johnathan.

Borealis slides under the bottom rope to the floor. Making his way past the outstretched hands, the crowd isn't sure how to react as they've missed out on a fight, but are now promised two matches with raised stakes later tonight! Inside the ring, Alexander Redding goes to look at the US Title, but David Fellows reminds him that he is going to have to win it first.

Yale: Did Red and Ted just strong-armed Borealis into dropping the US title? I guess this means tonight our co-main event for the night will see Johnny Borealis facing Alexandra Pierce for a shot at the World title!

Bryan: And in the ring you see Alexander Redding trying to hold the title like he’s already won it. In fact, he’ll have to go through two other men in Azuma and Kamigawa before he can call himself champion. This night has just jumped up a notch or two in the last few minutes!

Back to Top

Bryan: Ladies and gentlemen, we have a one-title-leaves match up next that is going to provide mayhem, carnage, and injury!

Yale: You can say that again. And by the end of it this company is going to have one less Shaman running around-

Bryan: Or will it be Brad Cruz who meets the end of his hardcore career tonight?

The arena lights flicker and flash as clouds begin rolling off in the distance on the MegaTron. An image of a huge shadowed man flickers and flashes as his huge shadowed form spreads his arms wide. His hands spread upwards towards the sky. Fog rolls around the entrance way.

In the beginning...

There will be Change...

Suddenly Dimmu Borgir - "The Serpentine Offering" begins to blast on the PA System, Fire blasts burst around the entrance way as Shaman steps through the flames as if he was a Phoenix being reborn. The fog causes the flames to look like the roll through the smoke with bright oranges and reds.

Bryan: He’s brought back The Vanguard title. He’s the last remnant of the Hardcore division, save for the current Hardcore Champion.

Yale: He’s gonna leave here on a stretcher. Or maybe a full hospital bed that gets wheeled down to ringside.

Changes have come...

The end has become the beginning...

Shaman slowly makes his way to the ring his eyes focused upon the ring as he doesn't even pay the crowd any attention. Slowly he turns and grabs the rope and pulls himself up tot he side of the ring and looks at the referee as he steps over the top rope and walks around the ring. His actions similar to that of a caged lion.

Andrews: In the ring...from Mojave, Arizona...the current GCW Vanguard Champion...SHAAAAAAMAAAAAAANNN!!!

Only one thing changes...

You have to face the unknown...

Shaman stops in the center of the ring staring at nothing, just waiting.

The arena darkens and a hush falls over the crowd as the GCW Global-Tron roars to life with the opening rhythmical melancholic beats of "I’m not Jesus" by Apocalyptica plays through the arena sound system. The Global-Tron plays weathered film scenes of beautiful beaches, whimsical palm trees, and the Hollywood Walk of Fame. We cut to a scene in a first person view traveling on a freeway with a sign that slowly creeps up with a simple message.

"Welcome to SoCal…"

At the 34-second mark the chorus kicks in and a beam of light aluminates the stage as Brad Cruz steps out with a black ceremonial cloth draped over his head. He holds his arms up posing in angelic manner.

Andrews: "Making his way to the ring to the ring ... weighing in at 227 lbs .... from Hollywood in beautiful Southern California... He is the "The SOCAL PROPHET" BRRRRAAAAAD CRRRRUUUUUZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!"

He slowly walks down the ramp and makes his way up the steel steps climbing into the ring. He enters and makes his way to the far left ring corner climbing it. Standing on the second rope he once again throws his arms up in a angelic pose. The crowd has a strong mixed reaction. Cruz strips the cloth from the top of his head revealing his face.

Yale: Oh boy oh boy! These two are gonna go ballistic!

Bryan: Are we clear on the rules for this? Is it Hardcore or Vanguard rules?

Yale: I think we’re looking at Scorched Earth, JB! We’re looking at All Out War rules. These two are going to wreck the ring, and we get prime seats for the fallout!

DING! DING! DING!

Brad Cruz snaps in to action, hunching his shoulders slightly and beginning to circle the larger Shaman. Andrew Whitecloud, though, stands with a stone stare on his face and watches the center of Cruz’s chest, his massive arms at his side in a false display of relaxation. Brad Cruz is aware how quickly those arms can raise to defend or attack.

Cruz darts in quickly, looking to go underneath Shaman’s reach, but the larger man is able to step back, keep his leg away from Cruz’ shoot, and lock his arms around Cruz’ torso. Cruz sidesteps, trying to duck under Shaman’s arm, and Shaman responds by clubbing down on Cruz’ back with a forearm. Brad Cruz is on the mat for half a heartbeat before popping up to one knee and driving to get behind Shaman.

Bryan: Shaman’s got Cruz in a bad place, and the SoCal prophet is trying to push through it!

Yale: He’s hedging his bet that he can outlast an onslaught from Shaman. Not sure how bright this kid is after all...

Brad Cruz is able to escape another clubbing from Shaman, and he sees the hole where he can slide behind the larger man. Cruz reaches up and hugs a standing reverse chin lock, but Shaman responds by taking Cruz’ arm and wrenching it over, then throwing Brad Cruz into the far ropes. On his way back, Cruz is met across the chest with a meaty arm that sends him to the mat!

Shaman picks Cruz up off the mat and looks for a big haymaker, but Brad Cruz is able to dodge it and grab Shaman’s arm. Cruz raises Shaman's wrist-locked arm up and brings it down hard, causing the big man to give a bit. Cruz repeats, putting pressure on Shaman's locked right arm as the larger man reaches across with his left arm to try to relieve some of the pressure. Another snap almost brings Shaman down to a knee, but he fights the pain and pushes Cruz into the ropes. Using the give in the ropes, Shaman pushes against them, causing Cruz to be sprung back into him. With the pressure on his arm relieved, Shaman has the leverage to shove Cruz running in to the far side. On his way back, Cruz barely ducks under a clothesline from the big man. Shaman quickly turns around to face Cruz but is met with a sharp kick to the gut that doubles him over. Brad Cruz then lands a punch to the head, a chop to the throat, and brings the large Shaman to a knee with a big dropkick to the chest as the crowd boos.

Bryan: Holy Toledo! A lot of action early on as Brad Cruz has reversed some momentum and is bringing it right to Shaman!

Yale: He’s gotta keep it up, though. The minute he takes his foot off the gas pedal, that big ulcer is going to be all over him again!

Just as Brad Cruz is looking to move in, Shaman reaches a hand up and grabs him by the hair, then pulls Cruz’ head into his own with a vicious head butt! Shaman immediately reaches for Cruz’s throat and pushes the smaller man down to the mat! Timothy Vale barks at Shaman to release the chokehold, and the big man does so.

The large frame makes it up to his feet, but he noticeably staggers a little bit. With Cruz up to standing, Shaman leans his opponent into the ropes and pushes off, firing Cruz at the opposite side of the ring. Cruz comes running back and Shaman scoops him up, then rips him down in a big power slam that shakes the ring!

Yale: See what I mean!? He let him get the reversal, and now it’s an uphill battle.

Shaman picks Cruz up off the mat and lands a nasty scoop backbreaker that arches Cruz’ body backward in pain! Cruz flops off the knee of Shaman and holds the small of his back as he lays across the mat on his chest. Leaning against the ropes, Shaman rears up and charges and jumps, landing on his knees on Cruz’ back! Brad Cruz lets out a yelp as Shaman looks to lock in a rear choke hold!

Cruz is able to get his hands up under Shaman’s choke, though. Shaman steps off of Brad Cruz and picks him up off the mat. Shaman lifts Cruz up to his feet and wraps his arms around him in a bear hug that picks the smaller man off the ground and puts incredible pressure on the small of Cruz’ back. Cruz, in desperation, lands double Mongolian chops to Shaman's neck and shoulders, but these two little to deter the larger man. Shaman squeezes, squeezes the fight out of Cruz bit by bit, and decides to finish him with a bang. Shaman drops Cruz’ feet down to the mat and springs back up, twisting and looking to land a huge belly-to-belly suplex!

Bryan: Good God! Brad Cruz’ back has just taken a pounding! And now Shaman is heading out of the ring!

Yale: This is a hardcore match, JB. Brad Cruz needs to dig deep because Shaman’s about to go old school. Well...even older than he already is.

Shaman has acquired a steel chair, a garbage can, and a kendo stick because those are always laying around ring side. He throws the can into the ring and it hits a stirring Brad Cruz, then he slides the chair and the stick under the ropes before he himself rolls under. Cruz is up on his knees as Shaman readies the kendo stick behind him. As Brad Cruz is on one foot, Shaman wraps the wood around Cruz’ rips and the crowd cheers in bloodlust!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

Bryan: His ribs have got to be screaming in pain from that bear hug earlier!

Another whack from the stick gets Cruz trying to jump out of its way. A third smack to the side and Cruz partly jumps/party falls through the middle rope to the outside where he can find some respite. Shaman is hot on his heels, though. Cruz is stumbling to keep some distance as the larger man rounds the corner in pursuit. Cruz makes his way around another turnbuckle and trips on the stairs, falling, which gives Shaman space and time to sprint toward him and raise the kendo stick in the air!

Bryan: That’s the opening he needed!

Shaman’s played right into the ploy, though, as Brad Cruz turns and swings the fluorescent tube at full force! He shatters it over Shaman’s raised arm and head, gas and powder and glass bits flying everywhere, as Shaman immediately grabs his head and stops cold!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Yale: HA! What a game of possum!

Bryan: Brad Cruz could’ve just taken Shaman’s eye out!

Yale: That’s at least two or three rain dances to heal that kind of wound!

Shaman, though hurting, seems to be able to see just fine. There is some blood on his hands from a few dozen tiny lacerations, but none seem to have scratched his cornea. Brad Cruz, meanwhile, has taken the opportunity for what it is and climbed the nearby ring steps, kendo stick in hand. As Shaman removes the hand from his eye, Cruz jumps down behind him and cracks the kendo stick over his head, sending the big man reeling!

Bryan: And Brad Cruz has found some life here! Can he capitalize!?

Cruz follows through and uses Shaman’s massive momentum against him, grabbing the larger man and running at a nearby table and landing on top of it with a bulldog! Shaman is able to hold back his weight from breaking the table, but his face is still met with wood as Brad Cruz lands on top of it. Cruz immediately stands on top of the table and signals to the booing crowd!

Yale: Big Chief better get back in it! The Hardcore Champion is looking to pulverize him!

Shaman pushes off the table and gets to standing just as Cruz jumps up. Cruz lands his legs on Shaman’s shoulders, then rips backward in a huge headscissors takedown that destroys the table underneath the two!!!

Bryan: Splinters and glass shards everywhere! Shaman is down on the outside and Brad Cruz is now in control of this match!

BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Cruz manages to get up to both knees, holding the back of his head for a moment before revealing some blood on his hand. Shaman is already stirring, and Cruz knows it’ll take more than that to keep the big man down. A double axe handle on the back of the neck allows Cruz to grab Shaman by the hair and start to hoist him up. As Cruz does so, Shaman throws back a desperate elbow into his sternum that doubles Brad Cruz over, then he reaches up and throws Cruz in to the turnbuckle post!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!

Bryan: What a huge counter by Shaman! And he may have some life in him after all!

Yale: He signed up for Life Alert this last weekend!

Shaman is on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath as blood pours down his face. Brad Cruz is down on the floor, both hands to his forehead, as Shaman finally reaches and grabs him by the scruff. Shaman lifts Cruz up for a scoop slam and drops him on to the splinters of the table! Cruz’ back arches in pain as wood splinters stick out of his skin.

Bryan: Shaman still working the back of Brad Cruz, and he’s not pulling any punches.

Shaman picks Cruz up again, and after a punch to the face he lifts him up and on to his shoulder, then takes a step toward the guard rail as the crowd backs off out of fear of what may happen next!

Yale: He’s about to decapitate the Hardcore Champ on the railing!

But Brad Cruz thinks different. Cruz manages to slide down and trip Shaman, making the big man fall forward and in to the barrier, actually managing to break it away from the connected metal railings on either side!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Bryan: And Brad Cruz! Just used Shaman! To break the guard rail at ring side!

Yale: That had to be close to six hundred pounds coming down with force!

Shaman is motionless as Brad Cruz is coughing as he reaches his hands and knees. He manages to get to his feet and begin to walk back toward the ring, with Shaman still laying in a pool of blood on top of a fallen gate of metal.

Bryan: Brad Cruz is heading back to the ring! Do you think he’s going to get the trash can? The chair? Or something else?

Yale: I think he’s going to try to end Shaman once and for all! That’s what I think!

Cruz has rolled in to the ring and grabs the chair. He picks it up with both hands and heads to the outside- but stops as soon as he hits the ropes. His head turns and he sees the turnbuckle, and he looks out to Shaman on the outside, and a wicked grin stretches across his face.

Yale: GO! Get him! What are you doing!?

Brad Cruz starts to ascend the turnbuckle, steel chair in hand.

Bryan: He isn’t!

Yale: He is!

Cruz stands perched high above on the turnbuckle, the steel chair in his hand. Below him, Shaman has gotten to his hands and knees, and is pulling himself off the ground as Cruz bends his knees in anticipation! Just as Shaman starts to turn around-

Bryan: GOOD LORD!!!

Yale: That’s it! I now pronounce Shaman deceased!

Brad Cruz’s jump was perfect, and the steel chair connected right in the middle of Shaman’s head! Nearly fifteen feet out, with gravity working for him, Brad Cruz has effectively destroyed the steel chair and his opponent in one vicious swoop! TImothy Vale dives down as Cruz makes the cover!

1!!!

2!!!



3!-NO!

Yale: HOW!!!???

Bryan: Brad Cruz had it! That was his! How did Shaman get his shoulder up?

Cruz isn’t sure, and he’s irate and yelling at Timothy Vale who is shaking his head "no pin." Cruz sees red as he picks himself up, a little woozy since he received some recoil from that chair shot. He drops an elbow on to Shaman and tries to lift the big man up, but Shaman’s dead weight is too heavy for someone as beat as Cruz. He tries again, but can’t budge him.

Bryan: Cruz is trying to get Shaman back up to end this, but Shaman is not giving him any help there.

Cruz tries one more time, but this time SHAMAN REVERSES! A quick roll up by the Vanguard Champ-

1!

2!!

Kickout!

Brad Cruz is steaming now, but Shaman has some reserves. We don’t know how, but he manages to get to a knee as Cruz comes at him again. Cruz hits him with a forearm, but Shaman responds with an uppercut that stuns Cruz. Shaman throws a wild haymaker that catches Cruz and sends him against the remaining guard rail. Shaman hits him again before throwing him into the guard rail on the opposite side!

Bryan: He’s got a full head of steam! Shaman’s gearing up!

Like a bull charging, Shaman bounds toward Brad Cruz with all his might! The crowd evacuates the guard rail area, and Shaman goes to run Cruz over like a freight train. When-

Yale: YES!

Bryan: CRUZIFIX SLAM! WHAT A REVERSAL!

Brad Cruz found it and hit it perfectly, using Shaman’s charging momentum to lift him up and back down, right on top of the guard rail! He goes for the cover!

1!!!

2!!!



3!!!

DING DING DING!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Timothy Vale goes to raise his hand, but Brad Cruz is down in a heap on the mat.

Andrews: Here is your winner...the GCW Hardcore Champion...The SoCal Prophet...BRAAAAAAD! CRUUUUUUUUUUUUZZZZZZZ!!!

"I’m not Jesus" by Apocalyptica blares in over the boo’s, and the medical team is dispatched to scoop what remains of Brad Cruz and Shaman off the arena floor.

Bryan: What a war that was, and we’ve got a solidified Hardcore Champion!

Back to Top






It didn’t take long for the reaction in the audience to change as the camera pans backstage to find The Unfamiliar Man from the beginning of the show sitting in a conference room with the beautiful girl. He was looking over some papers all the while grinning ear to ear!

Unfamiliar Man: Just what I like to see… everything’s perfect, just as I requested!

He then looks up to the camera and begins to speak!

Unfamiliar Man: Oh, Global Championship Wrestling… How I longed for us to finally meet! How I have toiled with my beautiful fiancee here, Jasmine about being with you guys. The nights I stayed awake over the last month… The times of uncertainty and excitement! It all boils down to this document in my hand. The Genesis of new life, rather a premature new birth! And now, a MARK of PERFECTION!

Bryan: What is he talking about… new life and a premature birth?

Reaching his hand out to the beautiful woman, she draws a pen out of her jean’s pocket. Turning to page 3 of the document.. The man writes something on the bottom of the page where the camera can’t see as the other 2 pages are flipped up.

Unfamiliar Man: Done! The MARK of PERFECTION

Suddenly, getting up, the Unfamiliar Woman walks outside the conference room while the Unfamiliar Man stays. The camera follows her as she finds a backstage worker.

Yale: Where is She going?

She finds backstage Interviewer, Barry Goldstein and brings him back to the room. The Unfamiliar Man then starts talking to Mr. Goldstein as he enters the room.

Unfamiliar Man: Don’t leave this room until either Mr. Steven Caldera or Commissioner Garbage Bag Johnny gets here to receive their gift!

Goldstein: Yes Sir… I will wait!

Both The Unfamiliar Man and Woman leave the room. The camera then pans to the "gift" left on the conference table. As the focus of the lens becomes apparent… we see the words. "GCW’s OFFICIAL CONTRACT OF TyDEZNO". Mr. Goldstein flips the pages and as he is looking we see the 3rd page with the signature of "TyDEZNO" on the blank line. The facial expression of Mr. Goldstein is worth a thousand words as the camera switches back to the announce table.

Bryan: TyDezno… so the rumors are true that he is the new talent we were warned about.

Yale: This gift as he calls himself is sure making a tremendous impact here on the Rampage PPV.

Bryan: Hopefully we will get answers… and soon!

Back to Top


Backstage.

It takes a veritable army to put on a GCW pay-per-view, from the talent to the production staff to the technicians and caterers, interns and drivers, security and so on. But mostly, there are cameramen. Good lord are there cameramen -- enough that you'd be hard pressed to find a sliver of privacy to have a simple conversation without being fearful it could be televised.

When you choose to chat just down the hall from the trainer's room, however, that's just your own damn fault.

"I was thinking, 'Hey, Lexi might need a hand!' That's what I was thinking."
"So you naturally brought her in without telling us?"
"Well, you would have said no."

The two women having a currently hushed (but almost certain to get louder) argument are Kathryn Shaw and Amy Campbell, respectively. While this will now be Amy's second consecutive PPV without a match, Kathryn is still coming down from the fracas we saw just a few minutes ago involving Aaron Fujita. She's got her heels in her hand, which puts her much closer to eye level with the pissed-off little redhead.

Aimz: Of course I would have said no! You had no right to invite her here. None. You don't involve that... that person in my business, okay? Not now. Not fucking ever.

Perhaps "pissed-off" is not a strong enough word for it.

Shaw: First of all, I didn't involve her in your business. I involved her in Lexi's business, and I know you think you're all in lurrrve and that makes it all the same thing, but it doesn't, Ames. Not hardly. Secondly, after the thanks she got, I doubt she'll be asking to help again anytime soon.

Aimz: I have half a mind to do the same fucking thing to you. Al didn't need your help, and she certainly didn't need that fucking--

Shaw: Didn't she?

Kathryn folds her arms, one carefully plucked eyebrow arching.

Shaw: I've seen the same doctor orders you have, Amy. And from where I sit, that help you say she didn't need got her exactly what she wanted.

Aimz: She wanted a piece of Kingsley. That's the only reason she came.

Shaw: Yeah, and if Terry'd had the balls God gave a mouse and showed up, she might have gotten it. Guess she'll have to settle for a crack at a GCW title match instead, sorry.

Campbell's lips curl in a scowl, rage at Drusilla's involvement and concern for Alex warring in her multi-colored eyes.

Aimz: She can barely walk, Kathryn. So whatever you think you achieved--

Shaw: I really don't know what you want me to say here, Amy. I did what I felt I had to do to get the job done -- the job Lexi pays me to do. I'm not about to apologize for it, and I don't know why you'd even ask me to. How many times am I going to have to remind you we're on the same fucking side?

Aimz: Just as much as I need to remind you that being on the same side means acting like it, not always fucking scheming behind my back, or trying to help through hurting people. You get off on the games, not making friends or even acting like you've got any, which you won't - ever - if you keep this shit up.

Shaw: I didn't scheme behind your back.

Aimz: Yeah? Then I must've missed the memo where we all agreed to this crap.

Shaw: Not everything is about you, sweetie. I made a tactical decision here -- one that paid off, I might add. If you or Lexi don't want to like that decision, fine. Nothing I can do to stop that. But don't ask me to regret it -- and don't berate me out in the open about it.

Campbell steps in closer, grabbing the taller woman by the elbow.

Aimz: I'm not berating anybody, okay? I'm just telling you that the next time she's here, I'm holding you responsible. I don't care if she's here to help Alex or hurt her or if she's serving the food in catering. This is the one place that I have where I don't have to deal with her, and I just don't want to see her here. Are we clear?

Kathryn wrenches her arm free, stepping backwards.

Shaw: Yeah, fine, I get it. Whatever you say, Aimz. Now, I have to go change for Lexi's match, but you may want to go see how she's doing. You know, if you can put your hurt feelings on how she won aside long enough to be happy that she did.

Aimz: Oh, fuck off, Kathryn.

The Siren backs down the corridor, her grin curling further.

Shaw: Maybe later. I'm going to try to help your girlfriend win a prestigious tournament. Have fun... uh, doing whatever it is that you do during pay-per-views these days.

There is a brief moment before Campbell's mind kicked in -- and another one before she shuts it off, swinging a balled fist at the other woman. Kathryn is a little more nimble on her feet without those stiletto heels, and she sort of twists aside. Amy's punch skims the doorframe, hard enough to be painful but not hard enough to break anything.

Shaw: You know... I'd like to have just one conversation with you that doesn't end with you hitting me, Amy. Just one. Someday.

And we cut away.

Back to Top

In the ring, Azuma leans in a corner, looking pissed off and ready to fight.

Bryan: It’s been confirmed, this triple threat match is for the US title.

Hidenori Shoji’s "Fly" begins to play, the instrumental heralding the arrival of Ryuji Kamigawa. The burly Japanese man appears at the top of the ramp in his usual finery, white tuxedo and matching shoes. The pair of sunglasses on his head will not be given to any young fans at ringside, they are his trademark and likely cost more than most six year olds are worth.

His stride down the ramp is purposeful; after all, he’s got a job here to do. He cracks his knuckles as he walks, mouthing along to himself with the ring announcer as he is announced to the world.

Andrews: Coming down the aisle at this time, he hails from Osaka, Japan! He weighs in at three-hundred pounds, and stands six feet, five inches! This is The Man in White Clothing – Shirofuku no Otoko…KAAAAMIIGAWAAA RYYUUUUUUJIII!

As he steps into the ring, the three-hundred pounder makes no move to remove any of his attire, sunglasses included: this is, in fact, what he wrestles in. Settling into a neutral corner, he shadowboxes briefly, to loosen up his arms and legs a bit as he waits for the final component of this match.

Yale: I’m sure you think the big guy is the favourite to walk away with the US title, don’t you JB?

Bryan: I’m not picking favourites.

"My Reward" picks up and fills the Staple Center. The lights dim on the crowd, and the two in the ring as a spot light focuses on the man walking out from behind the curtain. The US title gleams in the light as Alexander Redding holds the title up for all to see. It isn’t his, but he’s been the guy holding on to it since Johnny Borealis left it in the center of the ring twenty minutes ago.

Yale: There’s my favourite: The guy holding the title. Alex Redding called in his favour, and don’t think that he will stop short of cheating to make it his, officially.

Bryan: With Grady Patrick somewhere in the backstage, and the return of Theo Palmer, even though they are not walking with him to ringside, you got to think the numbers advantage goes to Redding.

Your Willing Villain, making his way down the aisle, avoiding the outstretched arms of the GCW faithful, slides in to the ring. He pops up with the title high above his head, and a cocky grin, soaking in the jeers from the crowd. The grin fades as he looks side to side at his competitors, and back to the middle at Cameron Wrigley, who takes the title away from him.

Andrews: And from Kitchener, Ontario, Canada! He stands six feet two inches tall! Alexander REDDING!

Bryan: And with the introductions out of the way, all we need in the bell and we’ll be underway.

Only, rather than waiting for the bell, Azuma tries to jump Ryuji. A brawl breaks out in the corner as the two Japanese imports trade rights. Wrigley calls for the bell.

DING!! DING!! DING!!

Bryan: And this is heated from the start. But, what is Redding doing?

Yale: Being smart. He sees those two going at it like dogs, and he’s just waiting for his in.

Eventually, Ryuji gets the upper hand, tossing Azuma into the corner and lighting him up with a set of chops they can hear up in the cheap seats. Wrigley starts to count, but this is a triple threat match, there is no DQ.

Yale: Good luck to Wrigley controlling this one.

Looking bored in the opposite corner, Red is nearly caught taunting when Azuma is whipped toward him. Thinking quickly, Red dropkicks Azuma’s knee out. The result is an ugly fall into the bottom rope. Alex gets up and backs into Ryuji. He can’t spin around fast enough before he is caught with a headbutt to the back of the noggin.

Bryan: And that one stumbles Redding. He’s rolling out of the ring.

Yale: Another smart move here by Redding. No count-outs in a triple threat.

Kamigawa thinks about heading out in chase, but has second thoughts. Instead, the three hundred pounder pancakes Azuma in the corner with a running body splash. Azuma crumples down on the mat, gasping for air.

Bryan: Quick pin attempt.

1!

And the pin is broken up by Alexander Redding’s leg crashing down on the back on Kamigawa’s neck.

Bryan: No! Springboard legdrop!

Redding picks up the pace with a baseball slide dropkick on Ryuji before he could get back to a vertical base. Alex goes quick for the mount, but Kamigawa is able to turn over to his belly. Unfazed, Red takes the rear mount and begins whaling down with right hooks to the side of the head. It’s only a while before the strength of Ryuji takes over, getting to hands and knees, making Red rock side to side.

Bryan: Azuma is back up! What a sick DDT!

Indeed, Redding’s head smacks off the canvas as now all three men lay on the ground. Azuma gets up at the same time as Kamigawa. The two Japanese imports trade glances before they each kick Redding out of the way.

Yale: Looks like these two are just fine with whaling away on each other, kicking Redding to the apron.

After side stepping each other, Azuma and Ryuji go in to a collar and elbow lockup. Azuma is quick to switch into a standing headlock, and Ryuji begins walking him back to the ropes. With a mighty shove, Ryuji is able to break free of the headlock and toss Azuma halfway across the ring. When Azuma does turn back, he’s met with a front kick to the jaw.

Yale: Goodnight Irene.

Azuma’s body goes limp and crashes to the mat. Ryuji begins stalking over Azuma when he hears a whistling.

Redding: Over here, dumb shit!

Getting his attention was step one. Step two is the springboard assisted diving punch to the quad.

Bryan: Air Canada! And it looks like Redding is about to up the pace of this one.

Rolling through the landing, Red bounces off the opposite rope. Ryuji is down to one knee. Redding dives, knee first, into the back of Kamigawa’s skull in a sick thud that echoes around the arena.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

The impact is enough to knock off the shades, and the big man is face down on the mat. Azuma still hasn’t moved since getting his teeth kicked in.

Yale: Redding could do this; he’s got them both out cold. He’s just got to roll one of them.

Doing a double take, Red decides it’d be easier to flip the Azuma, so he does, and drags him more toward the center of the ring. He’s taking too much time before he finally shoots the single leg hook.

1!

2!

No!

Bryan: At the last second, Azuma shows the resolve to get a shoulder up!

Yale: Red looks a little frustrated. He had it there.

Getting up quickly, Red stands ready to attack, just waiting for Azuma to get to his feet. Sure enough, when Azuma gets vertical, Alex grabs him by the back of the head, and in a sprint, jumps over the top rope, hanging Azuma by his throat on the rope.

As Redding takes a moment to taunt a young girl in the front row, Ryuji is back up, and wrapping up Azuma in an Argentine stretch. The agony is visible on Azuma’s face, but before he reaches his breaking point, Ryuji lets go, dropping Azuma to the ground.

Bryan: You have to wonder what – scratch that, Ryuji looks like he is ready to finish this, climbing to up the ropes in the corner. He’s looking for the Ten Kara moonsault.

Yale: If he hits this, we might be scrapping off pieces Azuma from the mat.

Just as Ryuji reaches the top, and looks back at his target, he is caught by Alexander Redding, getting his head back into the match. He reaches up to grab Ryuji’s foot and dive back to the ground. The Man in White losses his balance, and ends up straddling the top by his groin.

Yale: That’s got to hurt; Three hundred pounds crushing down your own junk.

That’s not even the worst part. Red is back up on the apron with evil intentions. He flashes a grin to the camera before climbing up the side of the ropes, until he was standing on the top rope, one hand on Ryuji’s shoulder for balance. Then it’s for guidance, as Redding wraps his legs around the thick neck of Kamigawa and sends him hard to the outside with a hurricanrana.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

Red is slow to get up, but he’s better for ware than Ryuji, who met the thin padding over concrete neck/back first.

Yale: Look out!

Sure enough, back to it, Azuma is bounding toward the two outside, with a suicide dive. Red does manage to avoid the brunt of the attack, but is caught with a boot to the shoulder, knocking him back down.

Bryan: These men have turned it up a notch. Redding might regret calling in his favour tonight!
It’s actually Red that gets out of the heap first, and he is sure to keep Azuma down with a short kick to the ribs. The second and third are punishing. Alex pulls Azuma up, and whips him into the steel steps. He hits with enough force to jar them, knocking the top half off kilter. Red rolls Azuma back into the ring, following closely.

Bryan: If Alexander Redding goes for the pin here, I think we found our new US champion. But he’s looking to continue the attack?

Azuma is down in halfway toward the center of the ring, and Alex stands back up on the top rope, turned facing the crowd. He leaps off into a twisting corkscrew moonsault.

Yale: Everyday Oktoberfest! This is it. Pin him!

After a few seconds of clutching at his ribs and trying to get his breath back, Alex pins down both shoulders and Wrigley starts the pin count.

1!

2!

NO!

Seemingly back from the dead, Ryuji is in the ring with a steel chair, rattling it off Redding’s spin to stop the count. It’s one more to the head for good measure.

Bryan: This match has gotten out of control. Kamigawa is swinging that steel, looking like he wants to take off some heads. Now he’s wedging it between the ropes in the corner. What’s this for?

Redding uses the ropes to instinctively get back to his feet, but Ryuji is there waiting for him. He grabs Red’s wrist and backs him into the corner opposite of the one with chair ready. Sure enough, Ryuji whips Red toward the trap, but at the last second, Redding gets his arms up and stops himself. Rushing in is Kamigawa, looking for that corner splash.

Bryan: No!

Yale: Yikes!

"THHUUDD!"

Bryan: Quick thinking by Redding, tripping up Ryuji with the drop toe hold, and Kamigawa just exploded through the chair he set up!

Redding slides out of the ring while Ryuji is crumpled in the corner, and Azuma is starting to show some signs of life.

Bryan: What is he looking for now?

Yale: Ha! Genius!

Tired of having pin attempts interrupted, Red uses his quick - and dastardly - thinking to find a pair of handcuffs. He hops back up onto the apron, on his knees. He slaps one cuff around the wrist of Kamigawa, and the other to the middle rope. Before he could celebrate his evil genius, Azuma is grabbing locks of his hair, standing him up.

Bryan: Azuma looking to suplex Redding back in. No! Countered! Redding stomps of his toes!

That’s followed up with a few stiff forearm shots to the jaw and it’s enough for Redding to gain the upper hand. A knee to the gut doubles over Azuma and Redding vaults back into the ring, holding on for a sunset flip, leaving the knees up for a backbreaker.

Alex rolls Azuma off him and walks a few feet back, waiting for Azuma to get up. He taunts the crowd, feigning the title belt around his waist. When Azuma is to one knee, Alex rocks off the far ropes. Just as he staggers to his feet, he is met full steam with a Running STO.

Yale: Grady Special Number Two!

Bryan: And Kamigawa is handcuff on the far side of the ring. Just as the big man starts to stir, I think he is realising this.

Redding lays his back across Azuma’s chest and starts to count along with the ref.

1!

2!

Nothing Kamigawa can do but watch.

3!

DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!

Bryan: That’s it; Redding’s won.

Andrews: The WINNER of this match and NEW! UNITED STATES CHAMPION! ALEXANDER REDDDDDINNNGG!!!

Cue "My Reward".

Wrigley holds up the arm of Your Willing Villain. Redding intercepts the title handoff between Andrews and Wrigley, taking his newly won silver title and rolling out of the ring. There isn’t much celebration. He just throws the belt over his shoulder and starts the slow march back up the ramp as the video board shows the highlights of this match.

Back to Top





The crowd starts to get all in a tizzy over the anticipation of the Rampage finals.

Bryan: What a night we’ve had so far, Dave.

Yale: You can definitely feel the excitement, JB, and we aren’t even close to done here.

Bryan: You said it. Folks, this is what we’ve been waiting for these past few months months. After a round-robin group stage, a Shockwave battle royal, and the tournament itself, it comes down to these two final competitors. Johnny Borealis, the long-time HDTV champ and recent United States champion, faces off against Alexandra Pierce, better known as Desade, one of the most lethal competitors in the game today.

Yale: You ain’t kidding. These two don’t lose often, but they clawed and scratched their way just to get a chance to be here.

Bryan: It’s not for nothing, either. The winner leaves with bragging rights and a shot at the World Heavyweight Champion.

Yale: Feel my arm, ‘cause I’ve got goosebumps.

The shrieking voice cuts through the arena like a fucking knife.

"CALL 9-1-1 NOW!!!"

Skrillex's "First of the Year" blasts in right at the bass drop. The fans are still cringing from the cacophony as a quick burst of pyro draws all eyes to the entrance way.

Bryan: Borealis held the HDTV title for the better part of a year, and he never technically lost it.

Yale: Yeah, but he picked up the US title in its place. And he didn’t even get to defend that thing before he gave it up just for the chance to go against the World champ.

Clad in black baggy cargo pants, black Doc Martens, and a pair of Oakley's, Johnny Borealis carries himself onto the stage exactly the way he wants: with all eyes on him. The crowd's reaction is more than mixed, and it's not warm.

Andrews: Making his way to the ring...from Aurora, NY...weighing 195 lbs...Your Guilty Pleasure...The Swaggerer...JOHNNY! BOOOOOOORRRREEEEAAALLIIISSSSSS!!!

The swagger is there, alright. Every step is a gift to the crowd. The man is lean, refined, and charged up to deliver. The smirk on his face comes from how amused he is at himself; his whole purpose of existence is to get the crowd loud and on its feet, and he couldn't give less of a shit if it's because they love or hate him.

Bryan: Well, as prestigious as Borealis made the HDTV title, and as important as the US title might have been to him, there’s nothing else in this business like being World champ.

Yale: I won’t disagree there. Still, how mad might Borealis be that if he loses and walks away with nothing?

Bryan: I think Borealis knows the score. He knows what’s at stake to make his ascent to the big time.

Sliding into the ring, he finds a corner to set up camp, cracks his neck, does a little stretching, and looks ready to wreak some havoc.

Yale: Well, it’s a helluva mountain he needs to climb just to get a shot.

Bryan: It’s high-risk, high-reward. Exactly what Rampage has always been about.

Show me a smile on your silly face
'Cause I'm getting tired of this human race
My darling...


Just as earlier, the a cappella open to Hurt's "Wars" comes as the arena is plunged into the dark. Three lone spotlights reach through the gloom to illuminate the elevator lifting a trio of women up onto the stage.

Andrews: And his opponent! To be accompanied to the ringside area by the Siren, Kathryn Shaw, and her daughter Quinn!

Bryan: Oh, great, they're back.

Yale: You may want to hold onto your Diet Pepsi there, JB. I may just knock this table over.

On either side of the Spider in cheesy '70s Charlie's Angels poses stand her entourage. While Quinn is still wearing the same skinny jeans and her custom House Slytherin quidditch jersey with her last name embroidered on the back, her godmother has changed (yes, again). As always, Shaw's dress puts the "mini" in "miniskirt" and the "low" in "low-cut", but this one is sparkly silver, shimmering in the spotlight like someone skinned a disco ball and found it just didn't cover much.

Yale: Lord, please let them stand over by us again.

Bryan: I will remind you -- again -- that Quinn won't be eighteen until February 1st...

Yale: 112 days from today, or so I'm told.

Bryan: Or so you're told.

Andrews: Fighting out of Oakland, California, she is unbeaten in all of 2011! She is the FINAL GTT Champion! She is the Spider in the Web! THE QUEEEEEEEEEEN OF LIIIIIIES! Alex-ANDRA! PIERCE! DEEEEE-SAAAAHHHHHHHD(uh!)!

With the way she's walking, they might as well add "The Lady of the Limp" to her list of nicknames. Alex's limp is worse than it was when she entered the arena earlier, and it's now bulkier, wrapped in white medical tape that stands out in sharp relief against the black pants. She's still got the new, GCW-exclusive white "Shenanigans in the Name of the Righteous" Queen of Lies tee, and her gaze is focused on the United States champion in the ring.

Bryan: You know, I admire her record this year and applaud her guts for going out there again tonight after Aaron Fujita absolutely worked over her knee earlier tonight. But the way that she won tonight was... I'm a little uncomfortable with it.

Yale: I mean, yeah, it was awesome, but Fujita didn't -- holy crap she's gonna molest a fan!

Again, it's Shaw that Yale is talking about, and what she's doing is pulling one of the fans seated at ringside up to his feet by his shirtfront. Once she's got him standing, Kathi winds her arms around his neck and lays a kiss on him that can only be described as voracious.

Yale: Hell with some old dude handing me sunglasses -- I want some of THAT!

Bryan: Oh, come ON! He's just here to have a good time!

Yale: And it looks like he is!

Shaw breaks the liplock with a coy grin, and her victim (if you can call him that) falls numbly back to his seat. The kissing bandit's goddaughter just laughs, shaking her head helplessly. Her mother is not, however, but it's not like she's paying attention. The only time she looks away from the Guilty Pleasure is when she rolls under the bottom rope into the ring. It may take her a little bit longer to get to her feet than normal, but it's showtime, and she's best when the lights are brightest.

Yale: Where does Joey Andrews do his research, anyway? "Undefeated in 2011?" Didn’t she get DQed in that match against Rich Roll--

Bryan: We don’t speak his name!

Yale: Who? Ri--

Bryan: NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA--

Yale: Alright! Jeez, forget about it already…

The flashbulbs go off, and these two folks are ready to throw down in the worst possible way.

Bryan: These two have had their share of matchups in the past. But when they faced off, a World title shot wasn’t on the line.

Yale: We’ll see which one wants it bad enough.

And just as soon as ref David Fellows rings the bell, Borealis tries to superkick Desade into oblivion. But Desade sees it coming and immediately bails out of the ring.

Bryan: Good lord! Borealis almost Lit Up Desade from the get-go!

With Desade outside, conferring with her entourage, Borealis menacingly stares at the trio.

Bryan: We’ve been seeing a more determined Johnny Borealis these past few weeks.

Yale: He’s not trying to be Mr. Nice Guy anymore. He’s realized that to get to the main stage, it isn’t always pretty.

Desade waits as Borealis backs off into a corner before sliding into the ring. The two begin circling each other, Desade noticeably slower than usual, favoring her leg.

Bryan: Desade’s knee problems might be her biggest weakness in this matchup.

Yale: Just another advantage Borealis has in this situation. He damn well better use it, too.

Desade and Borealis lock up, and Borealis uses his strength to shove her down. But before Desade can look at him angrily while on her butt, Borealis goes straight at her, kicking her right in the chest and sending her flat on her back.

Bryan: Borealis just laid out an unsuspecting Desade!

Borealis goes right for her leg, stomping away like a PCP addict battling imaginary roaches.

Bryan: Look at the intensity! He’s not letting her even get a chance to do anything.

Yale: Borealis isn’t stupid. You gotta be bad if you wanna get the goods.

Bryan: …please stop saying things like that.

Borealis brings Desade to her feet by force, nearly ripping her arm from the socket on the rise.

Yale: Hey, just because you went to broadcasting school doesn’t mean we all gotta be professionals…

And as James Bryan groans audibly, Borealis whips Desade into the ropes. On the comeback, he tries to clothesline her out of her little booties, but she rolls underneath.

Bryan: Borealis just whiffed big-time!

When she comes back on the go-around, she grabs Borealis by the neck, swings him ‘round, and brings him right to the mat. Hard.

Bryan: Big swinging neckbreaker by the Spider in the Web! Will she capitalize here?

Desade jumps on to make the cover, but Fellows’ hand only slaps the mat once before Borealis throws her off.

Yale: Not even close, JB.

Desade, not one to dote around herself, goes on the offensive, and lifts up Borealis. As he remains on Dream Street for a moment, she starts in a barrage of open-palmed strikes to the face, neck, and chest area of Borealis.

Bryan: Good lord! You can hear those smacks all the way up to the cheap seats!

Yale: This is LA, JB. Ain’t nothin’ cheap here!

The slaps of skin echo throughout the Staples Center, and she keeps them up, sending Borealis reeling.

Bryan: She has him on the ropes…literally!

With Borealis’ head swimming, she reels back, spins ‘round, and blasts him right in the mug with a spinning elbow, one that crashes right into his perfectly chiseled jaw and sends him flat flying over the ropes.

Bryan: What a hit! Desade might’ve just given him a permanent face for radio!

Yale: That’s his damn moneymaker! What’s wrong with her?!?

As Desade tries to go out of the ring, Fellows tries to stop her from doing any more damage, a rather questionable move by the ref. For as he decides to let himself be ensnared in an argument with Desade, it’s the proper moment for Kathryn Shaw to come over and kick the Swaggerer in the ribs a couple of times.

Bryan: Hey, that’s not right! Not right at all!

Yale: It’s Fellows’ and his shoddy officiating’s fault.

As Desade backs up, having played her part to perfection, Fellows turns around and jumps out of the ring to check on Borealis, not noticing Shaw make her exit from the area.

Bryan: Shaw undeniably helped Desade get by Fujita in the previous match.

Yale: Yeah, well, Desade had a previous match. Borealis came into this match fresh, and now the sides are a bit more evened out. A fair, impartial, unbiased and unquestionable Rampage final. The way it should be.

Fellows asks if Borealis wants to continue, and Borealis says "heck, yes!" Though probably without the exclamation and the heck. I don’t know how the guy talks. Geez, what am I, his biographer?

Bryan: It’s going to take a lot more than that to keep Johnny Borealis down.

Yale: Well, she shoulda got smarter. Like poisoning his club sandwich, or sending hookers to his hotel room the night before. Worked charms for Lawrence Taylor.

Borealis slides into the ring, and gets met with a diving Desade, who doesn’t even let him fully roll in before blasting him with forearms.

Bryan: Desade is focused and unrepentant tonight!

Yale: She has to be. Her handicap basically demands it.

Borealis tries to block the blows, but when Desade raises up and drops a particularly nasty forearm right to his face, he softens up almost immediately.

Bryan: I gotta admit, her strategy is quite sound. If she knows she’s hindered by her knee and relegated to ground work, might as well keep her opponent on the same level as her.

His guard down, she drags him towards the center of the ring, keeping hold of his elbow. She locks on, and ensnares him in a cross-the-body armlock.

Bryan: She’s got him in a bad way right here. Middle of the ring, in a move that hyper-extends the elbow joints. He’s got nowhere to go!

Borealis flails about as Desade wrenches back, but Borealis is no dummy, and his hatred of submission maneuvers works both for the execution and being involved in one, and takes his free hand to charliehorse Desade’s injured knee. She howls, and immediately lets go, clutching the busted knee.

Bryan: What a brilliant move by the Swaggerer! He’s taking any and all advantage he can over that knee!

Borealis gets up, his arm in pain, but seeing Desade wounded doesn’t allow him to take pause, and he kicks away at the knee like Rick James gettin’ all up on Eddie Murphy’s nice white couch with his dirty-ass boots.

Bryan: If this keeps up, by the end of the night, there might not even be any proper ligaments left in tact to repair!

The Swaggerer is suddenly in mid-season form, running his mouth like a post-crackhouse visiting Lohan, all directed towards Desade.

Yale: Here’s the Borealis we’ve come to know and love! Give ‘er hell, guy!

Bryan: I thought you were pro-Desade?

Yale: I am on account of gambling debts, but that don’t mean I gotta like it.

He grabs the Medusa by her flowing red locks, picks her up, makes sure he has a nice equidistance from the turnbuckle, and drops her with a sitout powerbomb.

Yale: Here comes The Highlight Reel! Let’s go, baby!

Bryan: The man’s in the driver’s seat, and this is his match to take.

It is his to take, but he sure takes his sweet-ass time to strut over to the turnbuckle. Climbing up, he measures up Desade, takes a moment to wait for the flashbulbs to run their course…

…and then gets shoved off the top rope by Kathryn Shaw.

Bryan: Shaw again! What the hell?

Fellows didn’t miss the action this time, though, and he’s not having any of it. He tells Shaw to scram, and she’s none-too-pleased about that outcome, jumping up to the apron and giving Fellows the business.

Bryan: She doesn’t want to leave ringside!

Yale: Well, tough titty. It’s only cheating when you get caught, and she got spotted red-handed.

Shaw protests, but her protests are wasted on dead ears, and when a few security folks make their way to ringside, she gets the picture and gets going.

Bryan: She’s lucky this didn’t end in a DQ. I’m not sure how Desade would have reacted to that outcome.

Yale: Considering what a fragrant rose she is usually, I’m sure not well.

With Borealis up, staggerin’ instead of swaggerin’, in comes an upright Desade to boot him in the stomach and drop him with a jumping DDT.

Bryan: And Desade capitalizes on the confusion! Maybe it worked out for her after all!

She flips over Borealis and hooks the leg.

ONE…

TWO…

THR--KICKOUT!

Bryan: So close!

Desade sits up and flips her hair back, getting once last glimpse of Shaw before she disappears to the back. She pulls herself up, albeit gingerly, and grabs Borealis by the hair, picking him up as well.

Bryan: Desade is methodical in her ways, often planning five steps ahead of her opponents. It’s the quality that makes her most dangerous.

She grabs Borealis by the arm and whips him into the ropes.

Yale: It’s also why she’s universally despised, JB. She’s reviled throughout the land, and for good reason.

With Borealis on the return, Desade knees him in the stomach with her good leg, and all the air comes rushing out. She locks both of Borealis’ wrists in front of him.

Bryan: Is Desade trying to...

With Borealis struggling to break free, Desade doesn’t allow him the chance, instead bringing him overhead with a Northern Lights suplex, complete with bridge pin. Fellows counts.

ONE…

TWO--

Desade lets go as the bridge falls out from underneath her.

Yale: Man, talk about insult to injury! She tried to knock Borealis out with the move he took his finisher from. A move the guy truly hates.

Bryan: Well, it looks like her leg buckled while she was in that bridge. I know Desade wants to win this tournament bad, but she might be overdoing it here.

As Borealis lays on the mat, sure enough Desade clutches at that injured knee.

Yale: Gotta lay it all on the line.

Bryan: But at what cost? What good does a title shot due when you’re on the sidelines for months with a bum knee?

Borealis gets up, and notices that Desade is in a bad way. He decides to do the gentlemanly thing and check on her to make sure she’s alright…oh, wait, no he doesn’t. He kicks at that bastard like he was old man Tucker and those dang kids left a flaming paper bag on his doorstep again.

Bryan: Borealis has been targeting that knee all night, and every time she re-injures it, he goes right for it.

Yale: A smart strategy. It’s hard to believe that Desade wouldn’t do the same, so why not go for it?

Borealis picks Desade up as if going for a back suplex, but…

Bryan: Kneebreaker on Desade! Borealis wants to rip the thing clear off her body!

He hasn’t had enough. He lifts her up once more, same again.

Bryan: Another one! How much more can she take?

Fellows runs over to ask her, and she sneers in his general direction. He backs off rather quickly, and Borealis grabs her. One more time…

Bryan: A third kneebreaker! He’s probably shattered everything left in there.

Yale: If Borealis didn’t have such an aversion to submission moves, this match woulda been over and submitted backstage way earlier by now.

With Desade even getting a tad woozy from the pain, and that Quinn girl likely near-despondent at the sight of such a beating, Borealis picks her up once more, but this time brings her over to the corner. He situates her on the top turnbuckle, and lets loose one helluva smack for good measure.

Yale: That was all palm there, JB!

Borealis climbs up with her, and lays on a few extra punches to keep her out of it, just in case, as he positions himself properly with her on the top rope.

Bryan: He has her in the worst possible way! Is it time for Sweet Dubloons of Saskatoon?!?

He throws one final punch…

Yale: Oh no!

But she blocks, and throws a punch of her own. And then another. Soon, her unrelenting assault is forming bruises on his cheeks.

Bryan: Desade is fighting back! Every ounce of her strength left to get out of this now!

With Borealis barely keeping his eyes open, Desade jumps onto his shoulders. Corkscrewing around, he twists like a pretzel with her, around, up, and then over, for a top-rope hurancanrana.

Bryan: My lord! What a counter!

Yale: Yeah, and what a price!

Borealis’ head spikes off the mat, but her injured knee gets caught awkwardly in the impact, and suddenly she’s howling out in pain.

Bryan: These two have given their all here tonight. They’ve proven they belong at the top.

Yale: No doubt, they’ve shown their mettle. But only one of them’s gonna leave with that World Title shot in their back pocket.

Fellows doesn’t bother with a ten count because such things are meaningless at this juncture, and it takes some time, but it’s Desade, who uses the ropes to pull herself up, that’s up first. But Borealis isn’t far behind and, likely only running on fumes, grabs hold of her injured leg.

Bryan: Back to that leg again! Borealis is relentless!

Holding on, he does what best comes to mind, and Dragon screw leg whips her limb nearly off.

Yale: Man, you weren’t kiddin’ about him trying to rip that thing clean off.

He doesn’t let go when he pulls her up again, and twists her around with a second Dragon screw.

Bryan: He might not need to bother with a traditional submission. She might just give up on this sequence alone!

He picks her up a third time, but when he tries to leg whip her again, she reverses speed, and enzuigiri’s the back of his ear. He drops face-first to the ground, seemingly out cold, as Desade painfully scrambles to a corner, holding her leg, trying to get her wits about her.

Bryan: They can’t possibly keep this up! Something has to give here!

Desade waits patiently, a sniper in the wings. When the Swaggerer takes his nearly twenty seconds to pull himself up, he’s woozy, he’s covered in sweat, and he doesn’t exactly know where he is at the moment. Desade, holding the ropes to keep her upright, waits for him to turn around and face her.

Bryan: Desade’s waiting in the wings! This could be all she wrote!

When Borealis finally gets an eye-ful of Desade, she’s rushing over as fast as her gimpy knee will take her. When she jumps up and grabs hold of the back of Borealis’ head to bring him down…

Bryan: SPIDER’S KISS!!!

Yale: No!!!

…Borealis throws her down to the mat before she can get a full grasp. She hits on her back hard, and Borealis grabs both of her wrists, hoisting her upward.

Bryan: Borealis countered! Is he? Can he?!?

He brings her up and over, wrists locked…

Bryan: NORTHERN LIGHTS OUT!!!

Desade hits the mat with a thud, out cold. Borealis, with what synapses left firing, makes the cover.

ONE…
















TWO…



















THREE!!!!!

The bell rings, and the crowd simply does not know what to do.

Bryan: He did it! Johnny Borealis did it! Amazing!

Borealis isn’t sure what’s what, and even as Fellows lifts up in the air, and what he hears called out…

Andrews: The winner of the match…and the 2011 Rampage Champion….

JOHHHHHHHHH-NNNNNNNNNYYYYYYYYY…

BOOOOOOOOO-REEEEEE-AAAAAAAAA-LISSSSSSSS!!!!


And as fireworks stream every which-way from the entryway, the color of red and charcoal, even still, Borealis is too out of it to realize what he did.

But when the rush hits back, he smiles, because he can’t help but smile. He jumps onto the top rope, flips his wrists in the air, and the crowd showers him with a hearty half-and-half mix of cheers and boos.

Bryan: Borealis has had an incredible run this past year, and he gave up both the Television last World Wide, and the United States title just for the opportunity to go on and face the winner of tonight’s main event, but by God, he did it!

Yale: Man! I’m out five-hundred bucks, damnit! Last time I listen to that choad Goldstein…

Bryan: Be that as it may, Johnny Borealis is your 2011 Rampage champion!

As the crowd reaction continues, and Desade is helped out of the ring by Quinn, Borealis milks his win like a mu’fucka, soaking every cheer and jeer through the continued explosions of pyrotechnics both afar and overhead. Just as the Swaggerer should.

Back to Top






With Dre Beats in her ears and cerulean eyes closed to the world, Vivica J. Valentine almost seemed to be in a trance. It was her typical pre-game ritual for a big pay-per-view match, no outside interaction. Sure there were many friends along the way who have had their feelings hurt by this routine throughout the years, but where were those friends now anyway? Lia Ambrosi. Tessa Windsor. Lindsay Troy. Andy Murray. Hadn't heard from any of them in months. The GCW World Heavyweight Championship however was always there for her.

The only one who'd ever been faithful to her. She often supposed that's why she looked on her relationship with Amy Campbell and Alex Pierce as more of a business relationship. Things would always work out better that way. No personal investment involved, just a mutual goal of having each other's back when the world was there to give them hell. Truth be told she kind of missed the companionship in these empty halls. It was nice to have someone to go back to the back and talk to, whether she'd ever admit that or not.

Aimz: Haaaay...

Five Finger Death Punch drowned out the voice of the Red Raver, walking up on the GCW World Heavyweight Champion, trying not to startle her. After what's happened tonight already, the last thing she needed was for Vivica to spin around and sock her right in the face.

Aimz: Hey?

Nothing. It was almost show time, and Amy had to get something off of her chest. It was a feeling she'd held inside all night, and her ability to bite her tongue went out with Desade's personal health. Reaching up she grabbed the cord of Vivica's head phones and jerked the right one clean out of her ear, causing the Fearless Phenom to spin around on her feet.

Valentine: Oh shit, sorry. I was kind of off in my own little world.

Aimz: Yeah, never would've noticed.

She chuckles.

Aimz: Are you sure I can't go out there with you tonight? I'm… well, it's been a rough day for everyone, it seems, and I'd feel a hell of a lot better being able to help somebody.

Valentine: I appreciate the offer, but I've never been the type of girl to need someone to hold my hand. Besides, I think the last thing we need is trying to explain to Alex why you were at ringside with me instead of back in the clinic with her. I think I've cause enough drama in your relationship over the past few months. Don't you?

Campbell simply shakes her head.

Aimz: I'm the one who causes the drama in my relationship, and Al understands me not wanting to see people get hurt, especially over a damn belt.

Valentine: You weren't around to see the things I did to people over this damn belt, so I'd guess whatever happens to me over it I've earned it, ten-fold. There's a man out there who might never speak again because of me. There's a man who is at home right now who used to love this business but probably can't even watch it anymore, because of me. I ain't gonna sit here and act like I'm a patron saint in this business just because these people cheer my name cause I haven't been. Not at all. There's a lot of people out there who'd love to see me get hurt over a damn belt.

Pulling the GCW World Heavyweight Championship off of her shoulder, she looks down at it shimmering under the lights.

Valentine: The scary thing is I'd probably do it again, just for a damn belt. I don't expect different from anyone else in this business. Some people have a family to feed and can't go out and do anything crazy. Not me. Just this. This is all I got, ya know?

Aimz: Better than anyone, probably. Doesn't mean you shouldn't take help when you can get it. You know what that filthy fuck'll do if he gets a chance.

Valentine: And he'll get his chance, believe me. This is what I wanted, remember?

A smirk crosses the face of the champion.

Valentine: I'm not the only one who has to answer for the things they've done. He isn't getting this belt as long as I'm breathing. If I have a pulse, I'm kicking out. I'll be fine. Go along and tend to Alex, I'll see you soon. Have some faith in me, will ya?

Again, Amy shakes her head.

Aimz: It's dumb - you know that. People had faith in me fighting Kingsley and I nearly lost an eye for it. But suit yourself… just know if anything happens, I plan on being the first down to take his head off.

Vivica nods as she puts the ear buds back into her ears. As Aimz walks away, she never takes her eyes off the Red Raver. A blank stared that isn't so much lost in the trance of music as it is lost in the guilt of questions unasked.

Valentine: Hey, Amy...

The Red Raver stops in her tracks, turning around to look back at her ally.

Valentine: Do you think, if it wasn't for all of this...

Amy tilts her head to the side a bit, her interest is piqued.

Valentine: ...Nevermind. I'll talk to you after the match.

Back to Top

Bryan: Folks, it’s time for one of the most anticipated re-matches in recent history. Just a few short months ago, Triumph Frost and Vivica J. Valentine fought in a ladder match for the World championship. Valentine won, some say in part because Frost’s own arrogance primarily cost him that match.

Yale: Where’d you get that information from? Joey Andrews?

Bryan: And just as quickly as…err…"The Man in the Red Bandana" disappeared from sight, Frost appeared as the newly-minted head of the GCW Board of Directors and attempted to make Valentine’s life a living hell.

Yale: Yeah, but she went and became that constant pesky thorn in his side instead. But it wasn’t anything new. These two have hated each other just about since Frost entered this company.

Bryan: And now it comes down to this. Frost. Valentine. For the GCW World Heavyweight Championship.

And with that, the horns bleat out into the Los Angeles night...

We are standing here at the edge of time…

Cold…


The crowd awaits with anticipation.

Our road was paved to the edge of time…

Steel…

Sparks…


The mumblings start.

Come with me out to the edge of time…

Does anyone remember who I am?


The hatred builds.

In a few moments you will have an experience which will feel completely real.
It will be the result of your subconscious fears, transformed to your conscious awareness.
You have five seconds to terminate this tape.

Five…
Four…
Three…
Two…
One.


And as the music builds, slowly, methodically…

Has everybody got a place to hide?
Is everybody inside?


…and as the crowd starts to get angrier…

Has everybody got a place to hide?
Is everybody inside?


…and angrier…

There’s a game out there.
And the stakes are high.
And the guy who runs it figures the averages all day long and all night long.
Once in awhile, he lets you steal a pot.
But if you stay in the game long enough, you’ve got to lose.
And once you’ve lost, there’s no way back.

No way at all…


…the bass finally blows out the speakers, and DJ Shadow’s "What Does Your Soul Look Like, Part 2" kicks into full gear, out from the entrance comes Triumph Frost, covered in sweat, and looking absolutely pissed beyond belief.

Bryan: We’ve come to get used to these drawn-out and excessively long entrances from Triumph, but seriously. If we keep this up, the network’s gonna cut off the PPV feed.

Yale: Who is? Is anyone even reading this, anyway?

Bryan: Reading…?

Yale: Watching! I meant watching!

Triumph’s walk is a bit brisker than usual, and the crowd lets him hear it with boos, jeers, catcalls, and other offensive what-have-yous, and he pays them no mind. When he gets to the apron, he slides underneath the ropes, finding a corner, and resting there impatiently.

Andrews: The following contest is for the GCW World Heavyweight Championship! Introducing first, from the Pacific Heights section of San Francisco, California. Weighing in at 256 pounds. He is "the Future"…

TRIIIIIIIII-UMMMMMMMPPPHHHHH…..

FRRRRRRRROSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!!!!!!!


And as Triumph awaits, as Rise Against’s "Give It All" starts up, the lights go out…

Break through the undertow, your hands I can't seem to find
Pollution burns my tongue, cough words I can't speak so I
Stop my struggling, then I float to the surface,
Fill my lungs with air, then let it out


And just as the cell-phones and lighters rise into the air, a loud white pyro explosion hits at the entrance, the lights turn back on, and the crowd goes apeshit.

I give it all, now there's a reason why I sing,
So give it all, and it's these reasons that belong to me
Rock bottoms where we live, and still we dig these trenches,
To bury ourselves in them, backs breaking under tension

For far too long these voices, muffled by distances,
It's time to come to our senses, up from the dirt
We give it all, now there's a reason why I sing,
So give it all, and it's these reasons that belong to me


Bryan: Here she is, the GCW World Champion herself. Vivica J. Valentine!

Sure enough, out walks Valentine, title strap around her waist, hands raised in the air, as the crowd showers her with love.

Breathe
(breathe), the air we give (give), the life we live (live), our pulses racing distances,
Breathe
So wet my tongue (give), break into song (live), through seas of competition


Bryan: Perhaps the most beloved of all champions in GCW history, a win tonight might just solidify her as a true Hall of Famer.

Yale: Well, it ain’t like she wasn’t one before. With what she’s accomplished? C’mon…

Valentine slaps the hands of fans as she makes her way to the ring, and as she slides under the ropes, she jumps onto the turnbuckle and raises her fists in the air, as the crowd goes nuts.

Andrews: And his opponent. Hailing from Highland Park, Illinois. Weighing in at 129 pounds. She is current GCW World Heavyweight Champion….

VIVVVVVVV-IIIIIII-CAAAAAAA…

JAAAAAAAAYYYY…

VAAAAAAAAAAL-ENNNNNNNN-TIIIIIIIIINE!!!!!


Bryan: This Los Angeles crowd is firmly behind Valentine tonight.

Yale: Well, I don’t think Frost really gives a crap what the fans think of him.

Valentine jumps off the turnbuckle and hands her title off to ref Josh Briggs, who in turn gives it off to Joey Andrews. Valentine jumps up and down a bit to get the blood flowing, while Triumph hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she walked through the entryway.

Bryan: This is the first time either of these two have been in action since the ladder match, so it’ll be interesting to see if there’s any rust from such a layoff.

When Briggs calls for the bell, Triumph...just stands there. Valentine says something, and then Triumph says something. Soon, the two are exchanging unpleasantries. Before long, they’re circling each other, looking for any and all weaknesses to exploit.

Bryan: Vivica stands at a shade under 5 and a half feet, and is maybe 130 pounds soaking wet. Triumph is 6’6", and weighs more than twice what she does. He obviously has the size and strength advantage, but there’s no denying she’s the faster and, perhaps, craftier of the two.

Yale: In a match like this, though, strength and speed mean absolutely nothing.

Valentine fakes a quick lunge at Triumph, and he jumps back.

Yale: This is about which one wants it more.

Triumph, in turn, does the same, and Valentine leaps back herself.

Bryan: And I think Valentine wants to prove to Triumph that she’s every bit as worthy as Murray was. And I think that’s what puts her over the top.

Triumph lunges forth, no faking, but Valentine ducks out of the way and trips him up. He lands on his stomach, and pushes himself upward.

Bryan: These two are no strangers in the ring. They’ve met in four different matches, with Valentine taking the solo match-ups and Triumph coming out on top when others like Karina Wolfenden and Tessa Windsor were involved.

Yale: You have to feel that Triumph wants to prove he can beat her one-on-one. And that’s why I think he’s going to take this one.

Triumph scoffs, and then spits right in Valentine’s face.

Bryan: What is his problem?!?

Valentine wipes the spit from her eyes, only to see a smirking Triumph. She charges right for him.

Bryan: Valentine’s enraged, and who could blame her?

Triumph side steps, and she bounces off the ropes. When she returns, he scoops her up and drives her to the mat with a thunderous powerslam.

Bryan: Triumph gets the upper-hand early on…

Not wasting any time, he doesn’t bother to pin her. Instead, he flips her onto her stomach and grabs both her wrists, wraps them around her neck, and pulls back as hard as he can.

Bryan: THE VICIOUS END! Triumph’s gonna try and choke her out with her own limbs!

Valentine gags, as Triumph wrenches back as hard as he can. After a few seconds, he seems to lose interest in the move, and lets her go free.

Yale: What’s he doing? Why would he do that?

As Valentine coughs, trying to catch her breath, Triumph seems lost in thought.

Bryan: He seems…preoccupied, wouldn’t you say?

Yale: Well, he is still kinda-sorta in charge. But man, this is a damn World title match, and he had her dead to rights! What’s the deal here?!?

Triumph starts to shake the cobwebs loose, but when he turns back around to face Valentine, she’s flying off the top rope with a missile dropkick, both soles landing smack-dab in the upper-middle area of his mug.

Bryan: Valentine just crushed Triumph! His nose might be broken!

Triumph flies into the ropes and tumbles through them to the outside. Triumph attempts to stand, fails, tumbles back, and uses the railing to hold him up. But just as he holds himself upright, Valentine comes flying from the ring with a somersault plancha, one that sends them both right into the front row of the audience.

Bryan: Valentine’s strategy is amazing in the early-going! She’s not giving him a moment to breathe!

As the crowd screams bloody murder in Valentine’s favor, she grabs Frost by his short blonde hair and the back of his neck, and throws him over the barrier back to ringside.

Bryan: The Bulletproof Blonde is in full control right now, and things are not looking good for Triumph’s attempt at his first reign as champ.

Yale: Valentine knows she can still retain with a DQ or count out, but I don’t think she’d enjoy that outcome. She needs to do this cleanly, for her sake.

With Frost on all fours, blood starts to trickle from a cut on his forehead. Valentine cares not for his well-being, however, and grabs the back of his neck and the back of his tights and flings him under the ropes. Jumping onto the apron, she springboards over the ropes and lays out a legdrop across his chest.

Bryan: Valentine is taking the fight to Triumph here tonight! And she’s showing no signs of letting up!

Valentine doesn’t go for the cover. Instead, she stomps away at his chest area. Before long, the passion burns in her eyes, and she’s choking Triumph, foot on his larynx, using the ropes for leverage.

Yale: Aaah! Someone stop this!

Bryan: She wants to hurt Triumph! Show him the pain he’s been inflicting on her with his bullheaded actions!

Briggs knows the game, because he’s the goddamned head of officiating, yo, and screams at Valentine to stop. When she won’t, he starts the count, and she relents before he can fully finish saying "four." Triumph coughs voraciously as Briggs pulls Valentine away and runs down an abridged version of the rules.

Bryan: The hatred between these two runs deep, and regardless of the outcome of this match, that feeling is unlikely to dissipate in the least.

Yale: It’s a blood rivalry, JB. Plain and simple.

With Valentine distracted by Briggs reading her the riot act, Triumph rolls out of the ring, but Valentine has had enough. She pushes Briggs out of her way and chases after Triumph. When she gets to him, though, he’s been playing a spot of possum, you see, and knocks her nearly clear-out with a lunging lariat.

Bryan: Triumph with a desperation move, and it paid off big time!

Triumph takes a moment to clear the blood from his eyes and to stand over Valentine in a bit of a moment of…well, for lack of a better word, triumph.

Yale: This is your moment, guy! Don’t waste it celebrating now!

Bryan: He’s never been known as the type to shy away from his own massive ego.

With Valentine’s eyes open, staring right at the ceiling, he leans down and says something less than flattering. She, in turn, spits right in his face.

Yale: Eww! Gross! She could have diseases!

Bryan: It’s retribution, that’s what that is!

Triumph smiles as he swats the spittle from his face, and then straddles her chest and begins launching open-handed and close-fisted (depending on his mood) lefts and rights into her face, neck, and chest area, smacking her about like the goddamned wife that doesn’t get that the turkey and swiss sandwiches need to be cut diagonal, not across! How hard is that, huh?!?

Bryan: Good God! Triumph is beating that poor woman senseless!

Yale: Shades of mom and dad after a night out at the gun club.

The bruises start to form on Valentine’s face, as Triumph’s assault goes undefended, on account of Triumph using his knees to keep her arms at bay.

Bryan: Your mom was a mean drunk, wasn’t she?

Yale: The meanest.

When he’s decided he’s had enough, he gets off of her and makes his way over to the timekeeper.

Bryan: What’s he doing now?

He tosses the timekeeper from his chair and folds it up, bringing it over with him back to where Valentine is.

Bryan: C’mon, now! Don’t do this!

Yale: Shows how much he gives a crap about that title! Give her hell, Triumph!

The chair goes up, and then comes crashing down upon her chest. Briggs decides to do something about it, and calls for the bell, which makes Triumph not pleased at all.

Bryan: Finally, some sanity emerges!

Triumph, chair in hand, leaps back into the ring and charges right for Briggs before the bell can sound, dropping the chair in the process, screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Bryan: Uh-oh, this might lead to some fines.

Yale: What’s he gonna do? Fine himself?

Briggs closes his eyes to protect his ocular cavities from the spittle and blood that flies in his face from Triumph’s mouth, but the message is loud and clear.

"I still run this goddamned company, and I still make the goddamned rules! And tonight, there are no fucking rules!"

Briggs tries to say something, but when Triumph tells him his job is now on the line, Briggs acquiesces and takes a step back.

Bryan: Is he…Josh Briggs is letting this match continue?!?

Yale: A steady paycheck or a single match? I think he made the right choice.

As Triumph spins around…

CRACK!!!

Bryan: VALENTINE!!!

The chair in hand, Valentine sizes up a woozy Triumph, and cracks him once more. He crashes to the ground like an oak, Valentine shoots Briggs a look, and Briggs just shrugs it off like it ain’t no thang.

Yale: This is a travesty! Disqualify that harlot now!

Bryan: Triumph wanted no rules, and he got no rules!

Valentine can taste the blood in the water, and with Triumph felled, she brings the chair up and smashes it down. Brings it up once more, and smashes it down again. This happens like about ten or twelve more times, with the crowd counting with each thud.

Bryan: Valentine has lost it! She’s looking to permanently damage Triumph! And it’s about damn time!

Yale: Listen to yourself! This is a human life we’re talking about here!

Valentine tosses the bent-to-holy-hell chair to the wayside, and tries her best to lift Triumph up.

Bryan: You wanted him to kill her not five minutes ago!

It’s not easy, but she finally manages to do so.

Yale: Yeah, but that’s different.

With him up, she attempts to begin a barrage of kicks, but Triumph isn’t having any of it. He blocks the first one, and grabs her by the wrist. He whips her to the ropes, and when she returns, he tries to clothesline her out of her boots.

Bryan: What an impact! Triumph is using all of his brute strength to try and knock her senseless!

He lifts her up again, and throws her to the ropes. When she returns, same result: a nasty-ass lariat that practically flips her over.

Bryan: I think his intention is just injury now. No insult.

Yale: Like she wouldn’t do the same?

A bit pleased with himself, he wipes the blood from his eyes as he lifts her up once more. He throws her to the ropes a third time, but she ducks his third clothesline, somehow, some way, and when she comes back, he grabs her for a tilt-a-whirl. But she hangs on, won’t let go…

Bryan: THE GREYOUT!!! Triumph is stuck here!

Sure enough, Valentine tightens her legs and cinches in the guillotine choke. Triumph tries to shake her off, but is unsuccessful. The crowd howls with delight.

Bryan: She might just choke him out right here, right in the center of the ring!

Yale: C’mon, man! Do something!

His shake-off attempts not working, he decides to do the next best thing: punch at her inner thigh. When the legs loosen, he flips her up and over his shoulders.

Bryan: Oh no! Triumph reversed….

As she struggles to get free, he goes through the motions for…

Bryan: BUSHINZAN!

Yale: Damn, these two are going all out!

The two are stuck breathing heavy, both on their backs, as the crowd hasn’t let up since the beginning of the carnage.

Bryan: They’re giving this Los Angeles crowd a show at the cost of their own well-being.

Triumph is up first, obviously, but she’s not far behind. Standing over her, he grabs Valentine by the hair and tries to pull her up by her long locks. But she has other plans. Mainly, a forearm to the ball bag. And the mighty does fall.

Bryan: Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Yale: Yeah, but why’s it always gotta be the balls?

As Triumph clutches his sack in agony, Valentine stomps away at his torso. When she feels she’s had enough, she helps him to his feet.

Bryan: This title means more to her than it would ever mean to Triumph. I imagine she’d be willing to go through hell and back just to hold onto it.

Wasting no time, she ensnares Triumph in a front face lock. Valentine looks behind her and sees the mangled steel just waiting to be used once more. She throws her arm in the air, one finger up, twirls it around, invoking shades of that drunk guy with the snake, and…

Bryan: DDT on the chair! Valentine might have put out Triumph for good!

Triumph lays flat out, motionless, the blood pouring from his forehead onto the chair and, from there, the mat. Valentine, beat to hell herself, walks gingerly to the top rope and the crowd picks up steam.

Bryan: I think we know what she’s planning now.

Yale: We sure do. She wants to end this now!

With Triumph down, Valentine leaps up to the top rope and stands on the turnbuckle, ready more than ever to put the exclamation point on the night. She lets out an almost-primal scream, the crowd reacts favorably, and she leaps off…

Bryan: SECOND CITY AIR RAID!!!

…only to have Triumph roll out of the way at the last microsecond. Valentine hits nothin’ but the mat with a sickening thud.

Bryan: She missed! Triumph got out of the way!

Triumph, seeing her writhe on the ground, goes up to the top rope himself.

Bryan: Uh-oh, what’s he thinking now?

Yale: Same thing Valentine was, probably. To be done and over with all this!

Triumph wipes the blood from his face, and leaps off with a shooting star press…

Bryan: Triumph’s airborne!

…but he meets the same fate as Valentine, getting nothing but a face-full of canvas.

Bryan: And he missed, big-time!

Yale: These two are killing themselves trying to kill each other!

Triumph rises up, and rests on his knees. That’s when Valentine unleashes unholy hell in the form of a snapping kick to Triumph’s throat.

Bryan: Did you see that?!? What impact!

Triumph tries to scream out but can’t, crashing to the mat instead and clutching his throat, gagging and making unnatural noises. Valentine, barely coherent herself, drops to a knee, before noticing Triumph’s in the middle of the ring, down, and vulnerable.

Bryan: Valentine has Frost in the worst possible way here.

She tries to get to her feet, but stumbles and drops to her knee again.

Yale: She’s not in the greatest shape herself.

The crowd begins to chant. It’s soft at first, but picks up steam. Soon, all you can hear is "VAL-EN-TINE," over and over again.

Bryan: This crowd wants…no, needs Valentine to come through here.

She can feel it. The electricity. The energy. She pulls herself upward. She climbs the turnbuckle. And as she turns around, still in the crouched position up top…

Bryan: Oh my God…

Triumph scrambles forward, using what’s left of his strength to push her off and to the outside…

Bryan: NO!!!

The crowd lets out a collective gasp as Valentine smashes into the cold, unforgiving floor surrounding the ring.

Bryan: Damnit! No!

The crowd goes silent, as Triumph lays flat on his stomach, blood dripping upon the mat. Valentine, meanwhile, rolls about, whimpering slightly, but not audibly enough to show off weakness.

Bryan: How far? How far does this have to go?

Yale: As far as it needs to. One of these two will do what it takes to kill the other, title be damned.

Bryan: Someone needs to put an end to this!

Yale: You can keep sayin’ that, but it ain’t ever gonna happen.

With Triumph up first, he attempts to stand upright, but it’s a lost cause, and he tumbles backwards into the ropes.

Bryan: Triumph can barely stand, Valentine is out cold on the floor…

Yale: They asked for this. This is what they get. You gotta let it run its course.

After the requisite taking of much needed breaths, Valentine finally wills herself to the apron. But before she can climb into the ring, Triumph grabs her by the hair and pulls her in forcefully.

Bryan: What a vile person he is!

With Valentine up on her feet, barely cognizant, he scoops her up, feigns the fallaway slam, swings her ‘round…

Bryan: DIVINE INTERVENTION! Frost just spiked Valentine!

He flips her over and makes the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

…Triumph pulls her head up and her shoulders off the mat.

Bryan: This is shades of his first matchup with her. It wasn’t right then, and it ain’t right now!

Yale: I know. Just pin the woman already! Some of us have girlfriends and wives and stuff to visit!

Picking her up once more, he uses just about all of his strength remaining to whip her into the corner. He rushes in toward her immediately afterward, and knees her in the stomach.

Bryan: He’s just torturing her now.

Yale: Wrong again! He’s setting her up for the end. A permanent end.

Frost hoists her over his shoulder and takes her up the turnbuckle. Getting her ready, he flips her up in a powerbomb. But she’s not done. No, sir, she is anything but done.

Bryan: Can Valentine get free? Can she survive this? Will she…?

She valiantly fights back. Lefts and rights to his face. But it’s too late. The fat lady has, indeed, sung. He leaps off, and we all know what comes next…

Bryan: SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL!!!

Yale: It’s over, JB! It’s all over!!!

With Valentine face down on the mat, not even so much as twitching, Triumph rises up slowly. Yet the look in Triumph’s eyes is not of a young kid looking to secure his first-ever World championship. It is of a man, who’s well past the point of return. And when he sees his coup-de-grace standing on the apron from the corner of his eye, he wastes no time in securing it.

Bryan: Why isn’t he pinning her? He’s put her down! How much longer does this have to go on?!?

Triumph reaches for the camera, and the camera guy, a pudgy doughnut-eating union guy, doesn’t even bother putting up much of a fight. The camera rests in Triumph’s hands, and in his blood-crazed rage, he’s about to pop right the fuck off.

Bryan: C’mon! Enough’s enough!

Valentine is barely to her feet when Triumph raises the camera over his head. She tries to bring her forearm up to block the blow, but she’s too late.

Bryan: No no no no no no no!!!

SMASH!!!

The sight is unnerving. The noise is disturbing. The camera explodes, pieces of plastic shrapnel flying everywhere. Valentine drops to the mat in a heap.

Bryan: Damn him! Damn this!

Triumph, easily taken away by his own madness, scoops up the camera cable and wraps it around Valentine’s neck. Briggs tries to stop him, but Triumph shoves him away.

Bryan: Someone do something already! Anyone!

He pulls back as hard as he can. The cable presses around her neck. His grip is unrelenting. She gasps for air. Her eyes nearly bug out of her head.

Bryan: Someone stop this, damnit!!!

Triumph grinds his teeth. The blood from his cut-open forehead pours down his face and drips onto her hair. Valentine’s eyes close slowly. Her breathing goes soft. Her limbs go limp. Briggs has seen enough.

DING! DING!! DING!!!

Bryan: I don’t…is this…

Briggs forces Triumph to free Valentine from his grasp, but not without one helluva fight.

Bryan: I can’t believe this is happening…

With Triumph pushed off and standing around dazed like a lost puppy, Briggs jumps out of the ring, grabs the World title belt, informs Andrews of the decision, and leaps back into the ring.

Andrews: The winner of this match…

The crowd is nearly completely silent.

Andrews: And NEW GCW World Heavyweight Champion…

Bryan: Oh my God…

But silent they are no more, as the boos flood in like absentee ballots from the 2000 election.

Andrews: TRIIIIIIIIII-UMMMMMMPHHHHHHH!!! FRRRROOOOOOOSSSSTTTT!!!!

Briggs hands Triumph the belt, and he holds it in his hand. Staring down at it, crimson drizzles onto the faceplate. One could say they even saw a smile through his scarlet facemask.

Bryan: Folks...Triumph Frost is…the new GCW World champion.

Yale: YEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!

That smile fades away almost immediately, as his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he crashes onto the mat. Trainers and other personnel immediately rush out to attend to the two.

Bryan: These two…my God, these two put each other through hell, and look what it’s gotten them.

Yale: We all knew the deal. It was insane of us to think that even one of them was going to walk away from this anywhere in the vicinity of alright.

Bryan: I know, but…like this?

The stretchers come to the ring, just in case, and even the rest of the officiating squad and Toad comes out to try and make sense of the carnage.

Bryan: Folks, on behalf of my colleague David Yale, this is James Bryan saying thanks for joining us for Rampage, and…my lord, should we help…?

As Bryan's voice trails off into the night, and as both Triumph Frost and Vivica J. Valentine lay motionless and unresponsive in the ring, surrounded by just about everyone and anyone in the employ of the company that can help them, both beaten beyond repair and covered in their own and each others’ blood…

We fade to black…

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Rampage 2011 Credits


Results compiled and archived with Backstage V2.