WorldWide 157

Sports Authority Field at Mile High Stadium | Denver, Colorado | January 10 2012

At Rampage, Theo Palmer earned himself an opportunity to challenge for the GCW Television Championship. At the Winter Classic, he's going to get more than that. He's going to get the opportunity to be the first double-champion in GCW history since current World Champion Triumph Frost, but in his way are current Television Champion Aaron Fujita and current Hardcore/Vanguard (VanCore?) Champion Brad Cruz. At the Winter Classic, one of these men will make GCW history.


Open with a fly-over shot of Sports Authority Field in Denver. There are a lot of people. A looooot of people. Screaming. Jumping. Waving arms.

"YOUR GUILTY PLEASURE FOR CHAMP!"
"VIVICA J. VALENTINE'S DENTIST!"
"BIG STACK'S GOT A SHORT STACK!"
"RED AND TED - A GOLDEN PAIR!"


Bryan: Ladies and gentlemen... we... are... LIIIIIIIIIVE! Welcome everyone to Sports Authority Field in Denver, Colorado! Welcome to the one hundred fifty-SEVENTH edition of GCW WorldWide!

Yale: Do you HAVE to shout?

Bryan: Welcome to the GCW Winter Classic, where tonight, for perhaps the first time ever, THREE titles will be on the line in a single match, as Aaron Fujita, Theo Palmer, and Brad Cruz will compete for the GCW Hardcore, GCW Vanguard, and GCW Television championships!

Yale: We have a LOT of belts in this place, JB!

Bryan: We will see the debut of former SCCW superstar "The Big Stack" Phillip Kennedy, as he teams with the GCW United States Champion, Alexander Redding to take on The Red Raver, Aimz, and Vivica J. Valentine, who we're told has recovered fully from the heinous assault she suffered at the hands of Amy's lover, Alexandra Pierce.

Yale: How does THAT pairing work? Nevermind that Kennedy is managed by Pierce's best friend and the godmother of her daughter!

Bryan: We're also going to see the debut of Adrian Tanner, Jr. as he takes on the new American Dream holder, Brad Jackson! Rikki Roxx returns to action for the first time since the 2010 Shockwave Rampage Royal, and--


Lights out.

Red floodlights drench the stage.

Sangre sani, sangre sani
Sangre sani, sangre sani
Sangre sani, sangre sani
Sangre sani, sangre sani


The chanting is the beginning of "I Am Hell (Sonata in C#)" by Machine Head, and as they fall off and the low, bass drums boom, an elevator rises slowly to the stage, bearing just one woman, with her head down. Many people in the crowd know the entrance, even if they don't know the song. For those fans, we're given one word, six letters rippling across the MegaTron.

P I E R C E


Bryan: This woman has a lot to answer for, Dave.

Yale: Yeah, and she's coming out here by herself to do it.

Bryan: Let's take you back to the last time we were on the air. WorldWide 156, closing the year with High Stakes. Vivica J. Valentine got her rematch against Triumph Frost. After referee Josh Briggs was assaulted by Johnny Borealis, the lights went out in the High Spirits Casino, and when they came up, Alexandra Pierce was in the ring. We thought to help Vivica. We were wrong.

We get a replay, the chryon in the lower left reminding us that this was WorldWide 156.


Viv lifts both brows in question. Alex looks over her shoulder to the champion (now out on the apron) and back. She nods her head in Viv's direction, and Valentine's smile stretches.

Yale: I'm gonna be sick. Someone needs to --

And that's when Desade spits a cloud of viscous black mist right into Vivica J. Valentine's face.

Yale: -- give her an Oscar!

Bryan: What the hell? Pierce just -- Vivica can't see! What the hell was that crap? Alex chickenwings the arms and -- MASTERMIND! Corkscrew unprettier! Viv just got SPIKED! What is going on here?

Alexandra comes up to her knees beside Valentine, a slow smile sliding onto her lips, like a stiletto being drawn from a well-oiled sheath.



We freeze briefly on that smile.

Bryan: And while that led to Valentine being pinned, it wasn't enough for Alex...


Alex knifes a hand through her hair, wiping the back of her hand across her lips as Vivica rolls onto her side.

Brysn: Is she... is she regretful? I can't tell what she's doing. She's lurking in Valentine's blindspot, but I really don't think it matters, Dave.

Yale: She doesn't even know where SHE is right now, nevermind where Pierce is.

Bryan: I'm not even sure how she's doing this? Vivica J. Valentine struggling to her feet!

Valentine reaches for the ropes and misses, then gets her knees under her and stomps a foot down, coming up to a knee. Gradually and by degrees, Desade's tiny smile flickers and fades, replaced by a curling snarl.

Bryan: Alex can't believe it! Valentine is getting up!

Yale: Not for long she's not!

Bryan: The bicycle! Bicycle knee to the side of Valentine's jaw!

Yale: Somebody's gonna need emergency dental surgery for Christmas!


Bryan: Following the event in Las Vegas, no one was able to get a word with Pierce, and so we still don't know WHY Alex did it or...

Yale: Or what she's going to do next. You can say it.

While the replay was playing, Alex made her way down to the ring, and she's standing center-ring with a microphone in hand. The boos swell as fans who might not have caught -- or might not remember, since the holidays have happened since 156 first aired. Alex glances back from the Tron, lifting a hand to flick her bangs out of her eyes. She glances down briefly, clearing her throat.

Pierce: Two years.

It's a little hoarse, and the boos only get louder.

Pierce: Two years.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Yale: Does she seem kind of... kind of flustered?

Bryan: I... think she might be. I've studied tape, watched just about every event that Alexandra Pierce has competed in over the last few years, but I've never seen a crowd reaction actually get to her.

The mic drops away from the Spider's lips, her brow furrowing. The crowd picks up on her hesitation, and they just amp up the noise.

Bryan: That's close to forty thousand people letting Alex know exactly what they think of her.

Her lip curls in a sneer, and there's a growl behind her words.

Pierce: Two fucking years ago, I won the GTT7 tournament. Two years ago, I decided that I would try to do the right thing. I decided I would make the woman I love proud of me because you people -- you stupid, mouth-breathing assholes -- would cheer for me.

They're not cheering now, and that voice, so often referred to as whisper-soft but diamond-hard, is right on the verge of a shout, her hand clenched around the mic.

Pierce: And for two years, that's what I did. I walked to this ring and I left it all in here. It didn't matter if I was in Cleveland or Kansas or Abu fucking Dhabi. As my daughter said, it didn't matter whether I was facing a Hall of Famer or a Hall of Lamer. If you put someone in front of me, I put on the best show of the night, all to make you -- you sitting in this crowd, you sitting at home -- happy.

Bryan: Wow. Listen to that bitterness.

Alex turns to glance to the crowd to either side.

Pierce: And what did it get me? Fifty thousand frequent flyer miles, a bum knee, and a whole host of enemies that nobody in their right mind would want. Xavier Kannon. Devin Shakur. Terrence Kingsley. Feed them to Desade. They'll keep her busy. And as long as I was in there against the truly vile, bottom-feeding assholes of this business, it didn't matter what I did, you'd cheer for me, so it was win-win. At least for a while.

She's virtually motionless as she speaks, feet planted. The lights stay dim, a spotlight illuminating her, reinforcing her loneliness.

Pierce: Christmas weekend 2010, Violence Jack pinned me in PRIME's Match of the Year, and it took a fucking year for anyone else to do it again. But, hey, let's put her in the ring with Alex Redding; He's a "young and promising" talent. Let's feed her to Chris Bagwell, because he needs to look like a golden god on his return. I worked my ass off for two federations, and I got tossed in the middle of the pack. Four people have pinned my shoulders to the mat in two years, and I'm just supposed to be okay with working my way up the ranks?

Bryan: This is an Alexandra Pierce we've ever seen before, fans. She is angry. She is hateful.

Yale: She's also kind of right. How many times is she going to have to prove herself around here?

Pierce: I never asked for this. I didn't make GCW hire me. I have never asked for anything. I came to NC-17 last year to see the woman that I love and Garbage Bag Johnny asked me if I'd be willing to wrestle. I said yes, and I won. And then I won again. And then I won again. And every time I had my hand raised in victory, I looked up the mountaintop and it just kept. Getting. Higher. Because while I'm slaving away, the fat cats in the main event slide by and get shot after shot and break after break. People like Shaman. People like Bryan Mayhem. People like Vivica J. Valentine--

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

The explosion of cheers for the Fearless Phenom is immense, enough to stop her in her tracks.

Pierce: Yes, cheer for her. Cheer for Vivica! Because she's tough and edgy and funny and has been the big, bad hero to the fucking masses for years! But just because she's been here, that means that she gets shot after shot and title match after title match, whereas people like me -- people with real talent, real skill, real accolades -- have to claw our way up again and again, grabbing one silly fucking brass ring after another, because that's Steven Caldera's legacy. The legacy of GCW is to waste the prime years of young talent in favor of the next shocking comeback.

Bryan: That's not at all a fair characterization.

Pierce: So nevermind that Amy and I carried SCCW on our fucking backs for the last year. Nevermind that we single-handedly spurred interest in the PRIME/SCCW crossover event. Because, hey, Andy Murray left, and gosh darn it, GCW needed a name. Can't take the chance on somebody new, somebody with a proven track record. No, we can't even give a chance to Karina herself, despite the fact that she actually won the final match of their series. Instead, let's get the person who lost and give her a couple-dozen more shots at the world title. But it was fine. I was distracted by Terrence. I was trying to win the at-that-point undefined prize for Rampage. So I was a good little soldier.

Bryan: I almost don't know what to say here. Who knew that she was this pent up?

Pierce: And then I faced Alexander Redding in the quarterfinals of the Rampage tournament. I decided to show off. I'd seen Seymour Almasy hit this move where he flipped over backwards and landed knees first on his opponent. But I missed. I missed and landed knees-down on the mat. I felt it give. I knew -- I knew -- that it was done. I thought I'd be able to recover. To train. To work it out. I'd do it for all of you.

She gestures out to the crowd with an angry little smile. The boos answer her.

Pierce: And while I was rehabbing eight to ten hours a day, what do I hear? "Oh, she's faking." "Her knee isn't really hurt." I could barely walk, but conspiracy theorists on the fucking Internet were posting frame-by-frame progressions, trying to "prove" I wasn't really injured. That I was doing it to screw over two kids that deserved better. Because they'd been here longer. Because they weren't some outsider.

Again, her hand lifts to wipe away the damp hair hanging in her face.

Pierce: For two years, I bled, I sweated, and I cried for this business, and all it got me was a host of doubting Janes and Thomases, still determined to prove that I'm the same old Desade.

Bryan: I'm not sure that was it. Even when she was pulling those kinds of shenanigans, the fans were excited by it. It was nice to see people who deserved it get what was coming to them, I think.

Yale: But when she does it to your precious Vivica J. Valentine, it's different?

Bryan: It certainly wasn't good-natured.

Pierce: So I give up. I give up, and it's all your fault!

"BOOOOOOOOO!"

Pierce: You made me do this. You wanted it, you got it. I'm tired of fighting against my better devils, I'm tired of trying to prove myself to a bunch of people who will never give me a chance, but give pondscum like Vivica fucking Valentine a thousand of them.

She pats the handkerchief tied around her arm, tugging hard on the knot.

Pierce: That's why I'm still wearing this. I thought about giving it back to you, Viv. I thought about jamming it past your tween-friendly piercings and using it to choke away your self-serving platitudes. But that would be easy. That would have made it simple on the simpletons, the kind of black and white, yes or no line in the sand that just doesn't exist between us.

Her eyes snap down to JB and Dave at ringside.

Pierce: I'm sure the sycophant at ringside has already gasped like it gave him the vapors, asking how I can still wear it. How I can betray everything that the Anti-Establishment stood for.

Yale: She's talking about you, JB!

Bryan: I realize that.

Pierce: I haven't betrayed anything. Just because I decided to rearrange the Chiclets in your mouth with my knee, that doesn't make me any less a part of the Anti-Establishment than you are. Just because I happen to respect the job that Christian Zenith has done to keep this federation afloat doesn't mean that I am not a rebel.

Bryan: Really?

Yale: It's easier to be liked than feared. Maybe she's right, she is the true rebel.

Pierce: Because now you are the Establishment, Viv. You're the staid force at the top of the mountain. Maybe you've been Anti-Establishment since 2006, but there's nobody left. Caldera is gone. Storm and Stone are out the door. LeStatt Knight, sayonara. Tessa Windsor and Bryan Mayhem and so many more all slunk out the door when they realized they couldn't cut it anymore. Andy Murray hung it up before somebody could do it for him. There's just... you. Vivica J. Valentine. GCW's Established Anti-Establishment, and when you had a cup of coffee with being a villain -- conveniently choking on another world title opportunity along the way -- these monkeys embraced you right back into their hearts because, hey, they just love you, don't they?

Bryan: Is that what this is about? That the fans in GCW were ready to get behind Vivica's repentance?

Pierce: Now you're desperately looking for somebody to fight, for another deserving enemy. Well, congratulations, you've found her.

She thumbs to herself, her glare hardening.

Pierce: Now I don't have to worry about Bagwell. Now I don't have to worry about Fujita. Now I don't have to wrestle Alex Redding for the thirty-fifth time. Because of what I did, because of the sin I committed... eventually, you and I are going face off in the center of this ring. I made sure it would happen. And it'll be one for the ages. Fast-paced. Flashbulbs will pop. And then I'll stick my knees in your face and I'll knock your fucking teeth out. And so you'll stare blearily up at the lights with a strange sense of familiarity as the referee counts to three. Because I mean what I say when I say I am the single finest professional wrestler in this company.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The Spider snaps back her head back to send the hair flying from her face, affixing the crowd with the glare that earned her the nickname "Medusa" as she leaps onto the middle rope. This is as close to shouting as she gets.

Pierce: Yeah, that's right: boo me! Boo me for telling you the truth! Boo me for exposing the diseased underbelly of the corrupt, nepotistic system you all blindly shell out money for! Boo me for daring to think I deserve BETTER! Boo me for claiming to be the best in the world before I finish the endless obstacle course to get to the top of this godforsaken mountain!

She steps down, practically shaking with rage. Her knuckles whiten around the mic handle.

Pierce: So, yeah, go ahead and boo. It won't change anything. It doesn't change anything. I am still the only woman to have ever won the GTT. I still went nearly a year across two federations without being pinned. And I am still going to send sweet little Vivica J. Valentine to the hospital -- again. No matter how much you wish or hope or pray otherwise, no one -- not Xander Searle, not Vivica J. Valentine, and the rest of you huddled around the television in that locker room -- can stop me.

Well, if that doesn't sound like an invitation, we don't know what does. But there's no sign of the Bulletproof Blonde or Alex's opponent, no music to herald the arrival of someone to shut the Spider up. There's no music at all as a dark-haired, bespectacled teenager skis through the curtain and down the ramp, a worried look on her face.

Bryan: That's... that's Quinn! Alex's own daughter has come out here to... to talk some sense into her mother, we hope.

Yale: Doesn't matter why she's here, JB! I would watch that girl read names out of a phone book!

Bryan: She's still only seventeen, Dave.

Yale: Yeah, but she turns eighteen in, what, ten days?

Bryan: Eleven.

Yale: Then tell her it's unfair for her to wear a dress.

Yes, as David Yale somewhat creepily said, the Devil's Daughter is in fact wearing a dress, powder blue and quite tame, with a hemline under her knee. Her black hair is parted down the middle and is draped over both shoulders. The whole of it makes her look less like she's a little more than a week from being an adult and more like she's just a kid, an effect that's almost without question intentional.

Alex turns toward the girl as she ascends the steps, slipping between the bottom and middle ropes. Quinn doesn't go for her own mic or anything like that, instead closing her hand over the head of her mother's mic, pushing the thing down and away. Their conversation is still audible, albeit faintly.

Quinn: (off-mic) What are you doing?

Pierce: (off-mic) Taking a stand.

The teen grabs Alex by the elbow, pulling her towards the ropes.

Quinn: (off-mic) Come on. We'll just go find Amy and--

The Spider rips her arm free, shaking her head adamantly. She gestures up the ramp, bringing the mic back to her lips.

Pierce: This is not your concern. Go back to the locker room.

Quinn: Like hell it's not. You're my mother.

Pierce: And I'm telling you to go back to the back!

Quinn: And I said no!

The girl straightens, her fists balling. Her defiance lights a new fire under the crowd, suddenly dying to see her stand up for herself.

Quinn: I'm not going to let you do this. I can't!

The Medusa's jaw tightens, and her head momentarily tilts to the side. When she meets her daughter's gaze again, Quinn's eyes widen.

Bryan: Alex backing Quinn into the corner! That's her daughter! That's her own child!

Yale: Sometimes yo have to practice tough love, JB.

Bryan: Tough love? Give me a break. Get somebody out here! Get Aimz or Viv or--

Yale: Who the hell is that?

The camera gets a shot of a man in a a dark trenchcoat and steel skull mask bounding over the guardrail.

Bryan: Whoever this is slides into the ring!

Yale: Are they with alex or--

Bryan: HALF-AND-HALF SUPLEX! ALEX PIERCE JUST GOT DUMPED RIGHT ON HER DOME!

Yale: ...guess that answers that.

Bryan: I think that... that mask, those shinguards... that looks like the outfit that Xander Searle's mentor Jay Draven wore in SCCW when he tried to fight back against Pierce, and now--

The man turns, helping Quinn out to the floor, and when he turns back, he lifts the full-face mask.

Bryan: Yes! That's Xander Searle! Pierce's sins have come back to roost!

Yale: He jumped her from behind! How is that fair?

Bryan: How is that any different from what she did to Viv? Searle now waiting on Alex! He's waiting and--

The smack of boot to flesh echoes loudly in the open space of the stadium.

Bryan: Running boot to the jaw! Good night, Alexandra!

Yale: This isn't how this was supposed to go!

Bryan: Xander Searle making a statement before his match with the Medusa later tonight!

Yale: Now what's Quinn doing?

Bryan: Gregory up on the apron! She's waving to the back! She's waving--

Yale: Is that--

A man in a black referee's shirt jogs down the ramp.

Bryan: That's Timothy Vale! The referee racing down to ringside!

Yale: Well, this is Vale. He's not exactly -- are they going to do this NOW?!

Bryan: Vale into the ring! He calls for the bell--

Back to Top

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Bryan: And we are UNDERWAY!

Yale: But she's not ready!

Bryan: Pierce hasn't moved! Xander Searle leaps atop her!

Yale: Not like this!



ONE!!!







TWO!!!






THREE--

"AWWWWWWWWWW!"

Yale: FOOT ON THE ROPES! Oh, thank God, foot on the ropes!

Bryan: Barely! Alex just BARELY got her toe on the ropes! Keep on her, Xander!

Yale: Rooting much?

Bryan: Oh, like you don't? After what she did to Viv and that bitter, entitled tirade, you're damn right I'm rooting! Searle pulls Alex up onto his shoulder -- SNAKE EYES! Pierce goes face-first into the turnbuckle! And the big kick! Yakuza kick by Xander Searle!

Yale: If Alex had done this, you'd be hollering about what a crime this is.

Bryan: But she didn't, so I'm going to talk about karma! Searle with another cover!



ONEEEEE!!










TWOOOOOOOOO!!!






THRE--


Bryan: Kickout! Clean kick out by Alexandra Pierce! Searle rolls her over! He's going for the Stretch! Xander Searle trying to lock Desade in that devastating submission hold!

Yale: Not so fast!

Bryan: Pierce fighting! Nobody ever said Alexandra Pierce wasn't as tough as they come! She may actually BE the best wrestler in the world, though I'd say there are several candidates in GCW alone.

Yale: So you're saying she's right.

Bryan: I'm not saying anything like that. Pierce gets to the ropes! Alex gets to the ropes before Xander gets the hold locked! She rolls limply out to the floor!

Yale: This has been a crime against... against the sport, against humanity. I'd even go so far as to say against nature. All Alex wanted to do was come out here and tell all of these people why she did it, answer the questions you've all been demanding she answer, and then her daughter decides to air their dirty laundry and then this... this guy jumped her from behind and -- this match wasn't supposed to happen until later, JB!

Bryan: Well, it's happening now! Pierce is just lying there! Searle rolls outside after her! Xander pulls Alex up--belly-to-belly suplex on the floor, maybe? No! Alex floats over and lands on her feet! She shoves Xander at the post!

Yale: Get this crazy person away from her!

Bryan: Searle puts on the brakes! He turns into a sole butt to the Spider's midsection! And Xander pitches Pierce back in the ring! He climbs the steps! Listen to Denver!

Yale: Well, it doesn't help that he has a cheerleader! She's rooting AGAINST her own mother, JB!

Bryan: Good for her if she is!

Quinn pounds on the steps as he passes, and the first "XAN-DER! XAN-DER! XAN-DER!" chant begins. He stops to marvel, and that momentary hesitation is enough.

*SMACK*

Bryan: Dammit!

Yale: If by "dammit", you mean "enzugiri", then yeah.

Bryan: Pierce snuck in that step-up enzugiri the very SECOND she had an opening! Searle just barely able to keep himself up on the apron! And now Alex drags him halfway into the ring! Hangman's DDT? No! She leaves him there wide open there and -- oh, the knee! A straight shot to the side of Xander Searle's head! I think she caught him in the ear with that damn brace!

Yale: Will you stop with the brace thing? It's part of her ring gear and has been cleared by GCW officials. Stop trying to make everything into some kind of conspiracy.

Bryan: Searle on the floor here at ringside, and he may be unconscious! Alex to her feet--

Yale: Look, she's only now taking off her hoodie! What a trooper!

Bryan: Pierce stomps the canvas! She's going to jump on Searle! Alex is gonna fly!

The Spider gets a running start, cartwheeling into a backflip. This would be the Great Sasuke's Space Flying Tiger Drop -- except that she rebounds off the ropes, flipping back into the ring. Alex ends up on one knee in the middle of the ring, lifting the double bird.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Bryan: Oh, come on!

Yale: These people don't deserve to see her fly! You can't boo her and then cheer because she's going to do something awesome! Did you see how they treated her?

Bryan: Pierce signals to Vale to lay down the count! She's going to take the countout!

Yale: You say that like it's a bad thing.

"ONE!"

Bryan: She's hit, what, two moves? One with that damn brace? Yeah, it's a bad thing.

"TWO!"

Bryan: Searle swipes his hand across his face!

Yale: He's trying to remember his name, JB.

"THREE!"

Bryan: Quinn banging on the apron, trying to get this crowd behind Searle!

"FOUR!"
"XAN-DER! XAN-DER! XAN-DER!"
"FIVE!"

Bryan: Searle rolls onto his side! He flails for the apron skirt!

"SIX!"
"XAN-DER! XAN-DER!"

Bryan: Searle is up! Searle is up to his feet! Alex with the baseball slide! Sidestepped by Searle! EUROPEAN UPPERCUT!

Yale: I think she lost a tooth!

Bryan: Pierce down to one knee! Xander grabs her arm -- Irish whip--into the guardrail! Searle right on her heels--and the CANNONBALL!

Yale: RIP Alexandra Pierce.

Bryan: Pierce has been squashed! Get her in the ring, Xander!

Yale: You're going to have an embolism, JB.

Bryan: Xander Searle yanks Desade to her feet! He pitches her in the ring and climbs in after! Cover her! Cover her now! Xander shoots the half--

Yale: REVERSED!

Bryan: Pierce with the small package! SHE'S GOT THE TIGHTS!




ONE!!!









TWO!!!






THR--


Bryan: Shoulder up! He got the shoulder up! Xander up to his feet! Pierce up to meet him! Searle with a lariat! Pierce nearly turned inside-out! He pulls Pierce up to her feet! He hooks the cravate -- DOWN ONTO THE KNEE! THE D-SPIKE! Jay Draven's D-Spike! Xander Searle has beaten Alexandra Pierce from pillar to post since--

Yale: Since he jumped her from behind?

Bryan: Pierce down! Searle tying up the legs! He hooks the arm back and--THE STRETCH! Xander Searle has Desade in the Stretch!

Yale: She might be too close to the--to the ropes!

David Yale doesn't usually stutter; blame the small "PLEASE TAP OUT!" chant.

Bryan: Alex is wiggling! Alex is wriggling! Can she get to the rope before she taps out? Her hand is wavering! Her hand is wavering--

"AWWWWWWWWWWW!"

Bryan: She made the ropes! Pierce made the ropes! Searle forced to break the hold! Alex rolls out to the apron! Searle up quickly! He pulls up Alex and--oh! Guillotine! Pierce with a guillotine! Pierce in quickly! Roundhouse kick--ducked! But Searle can't dodge the legsweep! Searle down--RUNNING SHOOTING STAR PRESS FROM PIERCE! She hooks the leg!




ONE!!!










TWO!!!






THR--


Bryan: No! No! He kicked out! Pierce pounds the mat in frustration! She thought that was three! Alex up to the top! She's got Searle set up! Pierce facing away from the ring! Stake To The Heart--no! She turns--SPEAR!

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
"XAN-DER! XAN-DER! XAN-DER!"


Bryan: Desade was going for the moonsault foot stomp, but Xander rolled out of the way, and the moment Alex was up, he sawed the Spider in the Web in half with a spear! Xander is down! Alex is down! You can feel it in the air, Dave! That's the smell of a titanic upset brewing!

Yale: That's just my nachos.

Bryan: Timothy Vale with the count!

Yale: I feel like I should be lodging some kind of official protest.

Bryan: Why would you do that?

Yale: Uh, because this match is happening close to an hour before it was supposed to? Because Alex's daughter is cheering for her opponent? Because it all started when that skinny little greenhorn jumped her from behind and dumped her on her head?

Bryan: Yeah, well... life's tough. Wear a helmet. Searle up now on the nearside ropes, Pierce pulls herself up in the corner, and -- Xander charges! Yakuza kick! But Alex floats over to the apron and--bang! Head kick dazes Searle! He goes staggering out of the corner and--Alex slingshots into the ring! Waistlock! German suplex maybe?

Yale: She's not THAT strong!

Bryan: Rollup attempt! Shrugged off by Searle! He turns and charges--lariat ducked! Pierce past, off the ropes and--

*SMACK!*

Bryan: Oh, the bicycle! She hit him with the bicycle! Bicycle knee! Searle falls like a chopped-down tree! Alex collapses on top!

Yale: Kid gave it his best, I'll give him that. But this is Alexandra Pierce.



ONE!!!










TWOOOOOOOO!!








THREEEEEEE--


"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"


Bryan: Foot on the ropes! He got a foot on the ropes!

Yale: How? HOW?! How did he DO that?

Bryan: That's what Pierce wants to know, too! Alex to her feet! She's shouting at Timothy Vale like it's HIS damn fault!

Yale: Sometimes, I think he's too old to count to three.

It is, of course, not an argument that the Medusa can win, and eventually, she lifts her hands, backing away with a brief nod.

Bryan: Pierce out to the apron again! She's waiting on Searle! Xander to his feet! Alex leaps--springboard hurrican--no! Blocked! Powerbomb! Searle stacks her up! He's gonna do it!




ONE!!!











TWO!!!








THRE--
"AWWWWWWWW!"

Bryan: Again, so close! Alex just barely squirmed--Searle! Searle uses the momentum of the kickout! He's going for the Stretch again!

Yale: Alex is fighting! Not so fast!

Bryan: Pierce rolls onto her back! A couple of solid kicks to the chest frees her! She pivots up to her feet and -- low-flying superkick! Pierce rolls to the outside! Alex can barely stand, but she tosses the timekeeper out of his chair and--oh, come on! She's got a weapon! What's the matter? Can't she beat him on her own?

Yale: Will you be careful? She can hear you, and I'll be in the line of fire!

Bryan: Alex up to the apron! Timothy Vale intercepts her! He won't let her bring that chair into the ring! On the other side, Xander Searle is up AGAIN!

Yale: What is it going to take to keep him down, a gun?

Bryan: Searle leaning against the ropes, trying to catch his breath! What a gutsy performance by this kid!

Searle straightens, and he shoots his hand into the air.

Yale: What's he--

Bryan: Searle's mentor, Jay Draven, used to use a chokeslam variant called the Brush Street Slam, and it looks like Xander is intending to use it now! Vale wrests the chair away from Desade! Searle shoots forward, slingshotting the Spider into the ring! He picks her up--goozle! Brush Street--no! Pierce floats over!

Yale: Timmy Vale got poked in the eye!

Bryan: Vale apparently poked inadvertently in the eye! Alex with a waistlock--reversed by Searle!

Yale: Dammit, get me out of the Twilight Zone where Xander Searle is a threat!

Bryan: Searle with the roll-up--no! Pierce puts on the brakes! Reverse mule kick--caught by Xander! Pierce follows with an enzugiri--ducked!

Now that this is the fourth time he's tried it, the crowd comes to their feet as the kid ties the Medusa's legs together.

Bryan: THE STRETCH! HE'S GOT THE LEGS TIED UP!

Yale: No! No, no, no! Fight it!

Bryan: Alex has no place to go! Searle's got--

The hold is going on practically in Quinn's face, so it's easy for her to slip onto the edge of the apron--

Bryan: NO!

To spew some viscous black mist into Xander Searle's face.

Yale: YES!

Bryan: Quinn just--why the hell would she DO that? Gregory ducks behind the apron as her mother gets up! Searle is blinded! He can't see!

Yale: Which is what "blinded" means.

Bryan: Pierce chicken wings the arms and -- MASTERMIND! MASTERMIND! Searle just got PLANTED!

Yale: Just in time for Vale to recover!

Bryan: Alexandra drapes herself across Searle--

Yale: Hiding the evidence!

Bryan: And the referee slides into position!





ONEEEE!!!
"BOOOOOOOO!"








TWOOOOO!
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"







THREEEEEEE!!


[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Andrews: Here is your winner -- the SPIDER in the WEB, Alexandra Pierce--DEEEEEEEEEEEE-SAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHD(uh!)!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Bryan: Dammit, he had her number! Xander Searle had Alex Pierce's number almost from the start of this match and then her... her devilspawn daughter! It was all a damn set-up!

Yale: Hottest. Jailbait. Ever.

Pierce rolls out to the floor as Machine Head's "I Am Hell (Sonata in C#)" begins playing again. She's exhausted, kneeling on the mats at ringside, a hand to the back of her head. Her daughter comes around quickly to raise her hand. With the remnants of that mist staining her teeth and dribbling down her chin, the teen looks positively demonic, a stark contrast to her angelic little dress.

Bryan: What the hell is wrong with this family?

Alex hobbles quietly after her daughter, but Quinn isn't shy about getting into it with the fans.

Bryan: What a start to the Winter Classic here, fans!

In the ring, Xander Searle rolls to his side, coming up to his knees. Timothy Vale provides him with a towel to wipe off his face.

Bryan: And what a showing by the young man! Take note of the name "Xander Searle," folks -- I think you'll be hearing a lot about him.

"Metallic Rage" filters from the loudspeakers as Xander gets up to his feet.

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, one more time for the performance of Xander Searle!

The fans ringside give him a nice rousing ovation, while the others are too busy booing the mother/daughter tandem at the top of the stage.

Bryan: Well, with that match having taken place earlier, we have to reshuffle things here, but--

Yale: Wait a second, JB!

Bryan: Quinn nudges her mother! Alex and Quinn dashing down to ringside! Alex into the ring! Xander turns--SPIDER'S KISS BY DESADE! Xander bounds back into the ropes! Quinn!

Yale: Oh, cameraman, move two steps to the left.

Bryan: Quinn up on the top! Xander down to a knee! Quinn -- FLYING DDT! Xander Searle just got STUCK into the mat like a damn exclamation point! Why? Why would she do that?!

Yale: ...because she's awesome?

Bryan: Quinn to her feet and oh, she's so concerned about the hemline of her dress as she raises her mother's hand again!

Yale: She's only seventeen, JB! She can't be showing the goods off!

Bryan: Give me a break! Pierce and her daughter have both proven to be... they're just disgusting! Let's go somewhere else before I say something that'll get all of us in trouble.

Cut away.

Back to Top






Bryan: Let’s kick it over to Sally Ford, who’s hoping to get a word with Vivica J. Valentine.

Yale: Why does she want to talk to Valentine? What, was Alexander Redding busy?

Bryan: …Sally, take it away.

Outside the female locker room, Sally Ford tightens up her chest-area and straightens her microphone, and then bats her eyes for the masturbatory crowd.

Sally Ford: James, I’m here outside the female locker room, where, presumably, Vivica J. Valentine and Amy Campbell are talking shop and planning strategies for their upcoming tag team match against Phillip Kennedy and Alexander Redding.

Before Ford can even sniff opening the locker room door…

Abrasive Voice: Hey hey hey, hey hey HEY hey hey hey!

Sure enough, barreling forward with complete and reckless abandon is the current GCW World Champ Triumph Frost, followed by his constant simian chum Andy Murray Jr. Frost slings an arm around an unsuspecting Ford, who tries to break free but cannot. Frost breathes the toxic fumes of tonight’s trip to the hotel bar in the reporter’s face.

Sally Ford: Well, it seems I’m here with--

Triumph Frost: Yo, Miss Ford, I’mma let you finish. But I gotta say that Vivica J. Valentine is a smelly, stinky, no-good terrible-head-givn’ cunt-face bitch muthafucka dickhole bee-atch!

When the door swings open, and Vivica J. Valentine stands, to the cheers of everyone in attendance and those watching at home, Frost only offers a shit-eating grin. He lunges forward, hoping to grab her shoulder. He missies, instead, and grabs a fistful of titty.

Triumph Frost: Hey-y-y-y-y….bitch.

Immediatly the Fearless Phenom swings her leg up in a violent soccer kick motion right between Triumph Frost's legs. He releases his grip and falls down to his knees as the crowd goes crazy.

Vivica Valentine: If you ever bust into MY locker room, and touch me ANYWHERE... ever again, I'll kick your teeth out of your mouth so hard I'll be wearing half of your dental work like a necklace. Do you understand?

Andy Murray, Jr. begins to howl and goes to attack the former GCW World Heavyweight Champion, but the current one holds out his arm to hold the wild chimp back. It isn't a groan of agony that crosses the lips of Triumph Frost, but a chuckle of humor. He simply gets back up to his feet shaking his head.

Triumph Frost: Cup, bitch. Cup.

Vivica Valentine: Oh, fuck off.

Triumph Frost: Yeah, you’d like to get off, huh? Too bad that ol’ limp dick Scotsman ain’t around to break your nasty raggedy-ass snatch off one, huh?

Triumph’s two fingers try to go for Valentine’s nether-regions, but she blocks his attempt with a forearm and a sneer to end all sneers. Triumph just chuckles.

Triumph Frost: ‘Course you’d be all sensitive down there. Only Satan knows the nasty-ass tongues that’ve touched that worn-out bung.

His laugh grows from a chuckle to a cackle.

Vivica Valentine: So, I'm afraid to ask... but what in the hell do I owe this visit to?

Frost is about to speak, Vivica cuts him off.

Vivica Valentine: No, no, no... I get it, you were just saving me the trip, weren't you, sunshine? Here's the truth about our little situation, regardless of what happened between Desade and I out there, I'm coming for you. Your time is running out. You can hide behind authority, half-retarded monkeys, and knocked up girlfriends all you want but you can't run from me forever. Actually, I kind of hope you luck your way into beating Johnny Borealis at Dangerous Games because when I win the battle royal... you can't hide from me anymore.

Frost lets out a belabored grunt.

Triumph Frost: First of all…

He pokes her in the breastplate twice.

Triumph Frost: Interrupting people is my thing. And secondly…

He draws in a deep breath. He pauses. Then, confusion sets in.

Triumph Frost: Wait, what am I here for?

As Vivica rolls her eyes, everything shoots back into place.

Triumph Frost: Oh, right.

He taps his right temple twice with the index and middle fingers of his right hand.

Triumph Frost: I hope you do win. I really, really do. That way, at least I know I don’t really gotta try come our next go-around.

He takes a step back and chuckles.

Triumph Frost: But I know you’ll fuck it up, just like you always do.

Vivica Valentine: You're so delightfully oblivious... you know that?

A wicked smirk crosses Vivica's lips.

Vivica Valentine: After the shit I've been through because of you... I'm going to take a lot of joy in ruining your disproportional levels of self-worth for the rest of your life. I ain't just gonna take your title from you, sunshine... no. I'm gonna hurt you, Triumph. I'm gonna make you scream... and if you're as good as you think you are... then maybe you'll be able to wrestle again. Maybe not. Certainly wouldn't ruin my day.

Triumph Frost: You wanna hurt me? Run your mouth some more. That seems to do the trick.

Her teeth grind. He clicks his tongue.

Triumph Frost: You wanna make me scream? Play your theme music.

Her fists ball up, as he smirks.

Triumph Frost: But you wanna take my belt? Then you best be prepared to end me.

He leans in, whispering in her ear.

Triumph Frost: ‘Cause I plan on doing the same.

He pulls back, and without another word or look, turns around and walks off. Vivica simply shakes her head before grabbing her locker room door and slamming it shut. The camera simply watches the force shakes the sign off of her door and sends it crashing to the ground.

Back to Top


Frederick Mannely is seen rolling around the back halls on a segway whistling. Suddenly an empty whiskey bottle barely misses his head and shatters on the wall. He stops and stares at the bottle and then turns as a voice speaks from an old boiler room with a door halfway opened.

Voice: Shut the hell up jack ass, You're annoying my drinking.

Mannely gets off the segway and speaks up.

Mannely: Uhm sorry man, did not mean to bother you uh whoever you are.

Looking through the door slowly he tries to eye who is there, the camera only sees two large hands holding another whiskey bottle, Makers Mark to be exact.

Mannely: Uhm hey boss man what's going on?

Mannely pushes the door open a bit further as Shaman is revealed looking down at the bottle as he raises it up and tips it swigging some more down on it. He looks over at Mannely as he swirls the little bit of whiskey that is left in the bottle.

Shaman: Make yourself useful idiot, go get me some more to drink, Better be this stuff.

Mannely backs towards the door slowly speaking.

Mannely: My contract states I am not to be involved in any alcoholic exploits.

Shaman moves with the quickness of a large lion or target, he grabs Mannely and hoists him up by the shirt holding him eye to eye.

Shaman: This is not an alcoholic exploit, this is a liquor run.

He simply shoves him out of the room and onto the floor, Mannely scrambles to his feet hopping on the segway hauling butt as fast as the segway will allow him to go.

Shaman: Fuckin useless piece of..!?!?

Turning Shaman notices the camera, he turns walking towards the camera he grabs it looking at the lens as he speaks.

Shaman: So you think my stress and unhappiness is your entertainment? You got another fucking thing coming. In fact I am going to show you I will do something about it, No more fucking predictable Shaman. I am going to do what I like and it starts now.

Shaman literally slams the camera down onto the concrete as the camera man falls to the ground and the camera goes static like with several cracks through the lens. Shaman is seen turning the corner as the camera scrambles out and returns to ringside to Yale and Bryan.

Bryan: Uhm what is that all about?

Yale: Shaman has been gone for a few weeks and he doesn't look anything like the guy he used to be.

Bryan: I am more concerned with what he is thinking.

Yale: Firewater and Shaman is not a good combo.

Bryan: great a drunken Indian running around, who might just scalp someone.

Yale: Maybe before the end of the night.

Back to Top


Back briefly to Dave and JB at ringside.

Bryan: Whew, fans, welcome back again here to Mile High Stadium.

Yale: I think it's got a different name now.

Bryan: We didn't get to do a proper introduction earlier, but you've already seen our first match, as a... a bitter and angry Alexandra Pierce escaped with a win over a very game Xander Searle.

Yale: Thanks in no small part to her daughter becoming my favorite person. Is eighteen too young for me to ask her to marry me?

Bryan: Still to come, we've got a great tag team match with Vivica Valentine and Aimz teaming, and our main event will unify the Television, Hardcore, and Vanguard titles. Not to mention the debuts of Adrian Tanner, Jr. and Phillip--hang on.

Yale: What is it?

Bryan: I'm being told that our own Ayake Sonoda is backstage attempting to get a word with Alexandra Pierce concerning the actions of her daughter. Ayake?

Backstage, Aki-San creeps down the hall, mic in hand.

Sonoda: Thanks, fellas. I am backstage here at Sports Authority Field, where Alexandra Pierce and her daughter have been having words for the last few minutes. This, following the teen's actions during her mother's match a bit earlier this evening...

"So I was supposed to just sit there?"
"Yes! This isn't your fight!"
"You're my mother. What part of that don't you underst--"

Sonoda might be like a pink-haired ninja, but her cameraman is a big clod and, more importantly, his camera bears a light that quickly comes to the elder Pierce's attention. She grabs her daughter's elbow, moving to pull her towards the locker room area. But Ayake is no fool, and she knows that once she's been made, she trots after them.

Sonoda: Alex! Quinn! Just a -- just a minute!

The Spider clearly means to ignore the tiny, pink-haired girl, but her daughter is not as accommodating, wrenching her arm free and walking towards the interviewer.

Quinn: What.

Daughter of a Japanese superstar or not, Aki-San raises a hand to forestall the girl's wrath.

Sonoda: Quinn... now, we just think the fans at home will want to know how you... how you can justify what you just did?

Quinn: Justify? Justify?

Ayake backs up a little more.

Sonoda: Well, you came out to... to talk some sense into your mother, and then when Xander Searle seemed like he was about to get the win of his life, you--

Quinn: I what? What did I do?

Sonoda: I think you know very well what you did.

Quinn: Supported my mother? Kept the woman who gave birth to me from getting hurt because some drooling ape that Jay Draven -- Jay Draven -- pulled out of the fucking stands wants to drop her on her head? It may surprise you --

She shifts her bespectacled gaze to the camera.

Quinn: It may surprise all of you, but this world does not begin and end within these walls. I have to go home, and I'm supposed to let her hobble around the house because, oh, gee, she kneed your favorite in the head? I am sick of you people deciding that because something happened on a wrestling show should change our entire life.

The girl's words get faster as she grows agitated.

Quinn: You see us for two hours a week -- less than that, really, since it's not like she's on television the whole time, even though it feels like it because the rest of these dweebs can't put two sentences together -- and somehow I'm supposed to feel guilty because, oh, gee, Xander Searle. Xander Searle? Really? You didn't know who Xander Searle was before the show started, and now you're championing his banner?

Sonoda: I think it's not so much what you did, but how you went about it.

Quinn: Aww, did I hurt his feelings? Did all the fucking... fucking lemmings feel betrayed because they didn't get to see the hot, nubile eighteen-year-old girl roll around on the mat with her mom? Is that what you wanted to see, Aki-San? Are you disappointed that I don't rise up to reclaim the good family name? I'm a Pierce, you twit. What exactly did you expect to happen?

"So are you even going to suggest she stop?"

The voice off-screen is immediately recognizable to our diehard fans, but for those of you at home who might not be so up to date on what our wrestlers sound like, our cameraman pans a little to the left to get a good look at the little redhead leaning against a nearby wall.

Pierce: The moment she stops making sense, sure.

Sonoda: So you're saying that you do not approve of her actions? She is your girlfriend's daughter...

Amy steps further into the frame and closer to the microphone, but manages to stare a hole through Quinn through most of it. When she finally moves her eyes to Sonoda, it's hard not to notice the reporter take a small step back.

Aimz: Relax, I'm not gonna jump you. I'm not...

It's really hard not to notice her gaze flick briefly to the Pierces.

Aimz: ... I'm not like that. But, with all due respect? Back the fuck off of this one. I get that it's your job to ask, but my family's not up for discussion. And I need a moment with these two, so it's a good time for for you to go find Phil Kennedy and ask what syphilis really feels like - and make sure to tell him I sent you.

Sonoda: But the people have a right to know what's--

That's enough to impel Alex forward, and why Amy's glance was just unfriendly, the Spider is downright hostile.

Pierce: She said that you should leave. I suggest you listen. Ask Angelina Brooks in PRIME what happens to reporters who overstep around me.

Sonoda: Okay, fine. But you have to understand that the questions won't stop and you can't avoid them forever.

Pierce: I think that's the point. But I can avoid them for now, so walk away, Aki-San.

Ayake also knows when to take a hint, so she steps back, the cameraman in tow. The cameraman stops down the hallway, just close enough that the three women's words can still be heard.

Quinn: If you're going to jump down her throat for what I did, save it. She didn't know what I was doing.

Pierce: Well. To be fair, I figured it out rather quickly.

Aimz: Quinn, just... just go to the locker room, will you? And do try to avoid giving any more interviews on the way, yeah?

The Devil's Daughter lifts a shoulder with a grumbled sigh, grabbing the hem of her dress.

Quinn: Whatever. I want to get out of this thing anyway.

Pierce: Then find Roderick. Make certain you don't see anyone else without him there. Especially Vivica.

Aimz: She wouldn't--she's not gonna--

Alex's lips twist in a small, slightly sad smile.

Pierce: I'm trying to be the parent I'm sure you'll accuse me of not being here in a moment.

Aimz: Don't worry, I'm saving the parenting talk for home.

The Spider nods briefly. She lifts her hand, scratching at the back of the head.

Pierce: Then what terrible news do you have? You have that "I don't know how to say this" face going on.

Aimz: Well, I was trying to find a nicer way to say 'Hey, have you noticed that you've been a huge asshole on TV the last two weeks?', but it doesn't seem to matter how much I practice saying it...

Pierce: I've been... I've been forceful, yes. But I'm also not wrong, babe.

Aimz: How is it not wrong to blindside and kick the shit out of the only friend I have here? Explain that to me, because I've been trying to get an answer that makes any sense from you all week.

Pierce: She's not the only friend you have here, okay? She's not the be-all, end-all, and I wish you'd stop treating her like she is. I love you, but you don't need her any more than I do. She needs us.

Aimz: Who are you kidding? She IS my only friend on this roster, and she doesn't deserve the shit you're pulling, no matter what you want to pretend. I just don't understand how you think it's justified to act on jealousy, Al. It's not like you. Yeah, people are assholes, but why satisfy them by becoming what they're accusing you of being? Your real fans know better.

Pierce: I'm not really sure I have any real fans, but if I did, I'm sure they'd have stood up and cheered when I put her down.

She sighs, reaching out a hand to touch Campbell's elbow. It's a surprisingly tender gesture, especially for the woman we saw in that ring earlier.

Pierce: Did you see them out there tonight? They were aching to boo me.

Aimz: Of course they were. The last time they saw you, you were beating the shit out of somebody they like.

Pierce: It's not just about what I did to Viv. I feel like I've been swimming against the current for so long. Nobody trusted me. Nobody even particularly liked me. At best, they tolerated me because they were fond of you or because I'm a useful weapon against people like Kingsley and Shakur.

Aimz: But, Al...

Pierce: Babe. I love you. You know I do. Everybody knows I do. But I'm not sure you understand how I feel. You had the SCCW title for a whole year, but on my own, I've never been more than a low-level champion, and that was for a couple of weeks while I wore the Charlie Ramone mask.

Aimz: But the GTT--

Pierce: Was a tournament that people will tell you Terrence or Johnny should have won. Look, I'll be thirty-six this year, and that knee injury was a wake-up call. I'm not immortal. I'm not indestructible. And I don't want to be on the list of Greatest Wrestlers to Never Win A Federation Title. I feel like I have to do this, just to get a taste of the rarified air you practically live in. It's not personal with Viv.

Aimz: It sure looked personal.

Pierce: I'm not saying I like her or anything. You know I don't. She's just emblematic of a bad situation, that's all.

Campbell shakes her head.

Aimz: You talk like most people don't say I only ever had a title because I had you behind me. Or like they don't all say I've been a letdown in GCW - that I only got and kept this contract because the company wanted the GTT winner.

Pierce: And those people are the same people who have been dying for me to make a single misstep and were sure that knee injury was their chance to finally show me. All those hours I was at the physical therapist, while I was a miserable bitch at home? They spent the whole time speculating about how I could have faked it. Fuck people like that. Little Aki-San there... that kind of confrontational thing is... this is the way this place works, and I just can't take it anymore.

There's a shrug and a tired sigh, and she glances down the hall, the opposite way from the camera.

Pierce: I'm sorry. I know I put you in a terrible position, but I'll do my best not to make this personal between she and I. I told you I'd never make you choose.

Aimz: Then keep the cheap shit leashed, okay? I can hardly justify any of this as is.

Pierce: I think you can, you're just not ready to. We should--you have a--

She stutters, stopping as she glances down the hallway, finally noticing the camera.

Pierce: Hey! Hey, goddammit! I said no cameras!

Alex starts that way, Amy reaching out to grab her arm.

Aimz: Al! Al, damnit!

But Pierce is already out of reach. The shot shudders as our cameraman flees.

Cut away.

Back to Top

The house lights dim to black and spliced footage from Metal Gear Solid III appears on the screen.

Revolver Ocelot: Hold it right there, traitor. Let's find out just how lucky you are.

Ocelot reveals a bullet for his revolver. He loads the bullet.

Ocelot: Watch closely.

Ocelot takes out two more revolvers.

Ocelot: One of these three guns has a single bullet in it. I'm going to pull the trigger six times in a row. Are you ready?

Ocelot juggles the three guns. Each time he pulls a trigger, Sokolov winces. The fifth time a trigger is pulled, Sokolov pisses his pants.

Ocelot: Looks like your luck hasn't run out yet.

The sixth time, the gun fires and the screen shatters into a million pieces as "Bullet" by Genuflect booms through the speakers. Loud fireworks explode from the stage as the song kicks in and Adrian Tanner Jr stands in the middle of the stage, arms out to his side and head covered by the hood of his ring jacket. Red and white spotlights illuminate the stage as plays through the PA.

The red spotlights make a circle through the crowd while the white spotlights pulse in tune with the music for a very dizzying effect, as the Arizona Assassin makes his way down the ramp. He walks down the ramp towards the ring, slapping hands with a few fans before he pulls the jacket off as he slides under the ropes. He mounts the nearest turnbuckle and makes a gun motion with his left hand. He cocks the "guns", "fires" then jumps down and begins his pre-match warmup.


Yale: Tanner seems ready for this match up.

Bryan: I think he wants to prove himself against anyone.

Yale: His opponent will be a huge test.

Bryan: I am interested in seeing how all of this turns out.


The lights dim, heavy mist filling the ramp as strobe lights begin to pulse slowly. A steady bass throb begins, growing in volume, sounding much like a heartbeat. A single gunshot shatters the silence, followed by mocking laughter and Jackson's voice hurling insults before the the music skips, and then the sounds of "Lies" by Evanescence filters through the speakers. Dark red strobes pulsate on the entranceway, and a dark figure moves among them, stepping forward as indigo fountains of pyrotechnic spark either side of him.


The crowd begins to boo as the metal music pounds over the speakers. The image on the screen changes to a turbulent, stormy sky above a windswept desert wasteland; lightning crackling, thunder booming in perfect counterpoint to the music. A dark point far off in the distance, growing nearer-- a black stallion. The dark horse charges across the desert, his nostrils flaring, foam dripping from his lips, a look of fierce determination in brown eyes that gleam reddish as the lightning courses across the sky. Suddenly the horse stops and rears, the footage burning away as though acid was dropped on the reel. Darkness replaces it, and then blood drips down from the top of the screen, forming these words: "I AM THE DARKNESS! FEAR ME."


He strides forwards, ignoring the crowd reaction. He circles the ring once, his eyes steady, a look of angry concentration on his face, before ascending the ring steps and climbing between the ropes.


Jackson stands in the middle of the ring, his head thrown back in a triumphant roar as the music comes to a grinding halt, cut off with a squeal of feedback.


Yale: Looks like Jackson is ready for it all tonight.

Bryan: Angry as usual.

Yale: With Jackson it could be anything.


Jackson and Tanner lock up as they both struggle and spin trying to gain leverage as Jackson suddenly gets the upper hand and raises a knee into his midsection gaining leverage as he grabs Tanners hair and runs him into the corner slamming him head first into the top turnbuckle. Quickly Jackson grabs Tanner again and goes to sling him into the opposite corner, but Tanner reverses it and follows with a dropkick driving Jackson back into the corner. Tanner quickly climbs the ropes and positions himself and begins punching Jackson as the crowd counts.


1..


2..


3..


4..


5..


Yale: Jackson is in a bad spot here.


Bryan: he is the expert here he'll rebound nicely.


6..


7..


8..


Right as nine is about to be counted Jackson grabs Tanner by the legs and executes a reverse atomic drop and chops Tanner hard across the upper torso as the crowd reacts in a pained sound. Jackson hits the ropes and comes off them hard knocking Tanner to the mat violently. Jackson walks over and places a foot on Tanners face turning his head sideways going for a pin. The referee drops down and raises his arm to start.


Yale: One yes Tanner kicks out at one.

Bryan: Jackson is playing with the guy.

Yale: We couldn't tell by the disgraceful way he has done it can we.

Bryan: Not sure what your talking about.


Tanner rolls over holding the back of his head as Jackson stalks around him and reaches down dragging Tanner to his feet. Suddenly stepping in Jackson executes a belly to belly suplex. Tanner rolls obviously hurt as he rolls over again Jackson is on him like a rabid animal as he lifts him up again and executes a swinging neck breaker as Tanner lands hard on the mat once again.


Bryan: Now you see why Jackson has beaten many tougher men in the past.

Yale: It doesn't matter about the past, its about the here and now.

Bryan: Here Jackson is beating Tanner, Now Tanner looks beaten.


Jackson reaches down and grabs Tanner and sends him to the ropes once again, Jackson ducks down and suddenly tanner reacts and executes a quick running swinging neckbreaker on Jackson slamming both himself and Jackson down awkwardly as Tanner rolls holding the back of his head. Tanner slowly gets to his feet shaking the cobwebs. Jackson slowly follows getting to his feet as his momentum was suddenly stopped.


Bryan: Rookies luck!!

Yale: Tanner took advantage of a solid mistake by Jackson.

Bryan: Jackson doesn't make mistakes he creates opportunities.

Yale: We'll see.


Tanner is the first to his feet and hurriedly turns hitting the ropes and jumps up executing a leg scissors take down on Jackson. Jackson sits up in a daze as Tanner hits the ropes again executing a baseball slide dropkick to the sitting Jackson causing him to slam hard back onto the mat.


Yale: Hows that for rookie luck?

Bryan: Even a blind squirrel can find a nut.

Yale: You never give credit where credits due.

Bryan: Tanner hasn't shown me anything other than running from a fight.

Yale: Tanner is showing much more than that.


Tanner quickly turns himself around and hooks Jackson's leg. The referee drops to all fours and begins the count.


1..


2..


Yale: No Jackson kicks out at three!!

Bryan: Told you Jackson still has life in him.

Yale: Go back to the match.

Bryan: Honey Badger don't care!!


Tanner stands up again and grabs Jackson dragging him to his feet and runs towards the corner and executes a perfect springboard tornado ddt. Tanner drops down and grabs Jackson rolling him to his stomach and grabs both arms hoisting them over his knees and Pulls Jackson's head to the side and drives an elbow down repeatedly into the shoulder area as he releases him and then stands up. Tanner looks around and then pulls him to the center of the ring and locks in a cobra clutch. He holds and holds as Jackson refuses to give. The referee keeps checking and looking at tanner who is concentrating as Jackson fades a little bit. Jackson's arm drops once and holds before twice, Tanner quickly turns the submission hold into a vicious short arm lariat leveling Jackson.


Bryan: Ok I can say I am mildly impressed.

Yale: Only mildly?

Bryan: Jackson is holding back and will win this one....somehow.

Yale: Yeah not so confident now are you Bryan?

Bryan: Shut up!


Walking towards the ropes Tanner is showing the frustration of not being able to get the better of his opponent. Tanner turns and walks over lifting Jackson once again and spins him around sending him to the ropes. Tanner goes to grab Jackson, Jackson reverses and slips in behind Tanner and executes repeat German suplexes and bridges on the second one for the pin attempt.


1..


2..


Bryan: Three no Tanner was pinned the referee counted too slow.

Yale: Jackson with a magnificent counter to the assault of Tanner.

Bryan: Man I need some water, wheres the waterboy?

Yale: We don't have one.

Bryan: Really? Well I think we should.


Both men rolling over onto there hands and knees they slowly make there way to their feet. Tanner begins throwing some punches at Jackson, but after just a couple Jackson counters and blocks several of the punches. He then throws a few of his own staggering Tanner, Jackson suddenly steps in and executes a reverse Russian leg sweep driving Tanner down hard into the mat. Jackson suddenly snaps as he begins stomping on the downed Tanner in a violent fashion. He literally stomps Tanner as he circles the body in stomps. Reaching down he lifts Tanner up and executes a perfect European uppercut.


Bryan: Look at that Jackson is back in control.

Yale: Back in control in a brutal fashion.

Bryan: I told you he was waiting.


As Tanner staggers backwards Jackson runs and hits the ropes as Jackson comes off with such force that he spears through Tanner driving him hard down upon the mat. Jackson then slowly gets up as he looks down at Tanner grabbing him while he is down and applies and inverted STF.


Yale: My god Jackson has applied The Darkest Hour on Tanner.

Bryan: Its all over but the Ben Gay son!!

Yale: The referee checking Tanner as he is refusing to give.

Bryan: He is going to give.


After a few moments fight Tanner yells to the ref he gives up. The referee turns and signals for the bell. Jackson refuses to let go of the rookie as he punishes him some more. The referee implores to Jackson and asks for him to release Tanner. Jackson refuses as he yells out trying to apply more pressure on him, The referee reaches in and grabs pulling the hold apart partially as Jackson releases Tanner shoving him to the side unceremoniously. Jackson slowly gets up as the referee raises his hand.


Yale: And your winner Brad Jackson.

Bryan: Of course he is the winner, was there any doubt?

Yale: Tanner put up one heck of a fight in this back and forth bout.

Bryan: Tanner gave more of a fight than I expected of him.


Jackson snatches his arm away from the referee and then walks of to the still down tanner and lifts him to his feet and runs to the rope and slings him over the top rope. Jackson then turns heading to the opposite side of the ring and simply hops out heading to the curtains.


Yale: Was that necessary?

Bryan: In a word yes.


Medical team makes there way to ringside to check on tanner who is slowly rising to his feet in pain. He looks at the medical staff and nods as he looks back up the ramp at the departing Brad Jackson, Camera fades to commercial showing the submission and the subsequent toss out of the ring by Brad Jackson of Adrian Tanner Jr.

Back to Top






The camera follows a reluctant blonde and crimson haired heroine as she walks up to a locker room door. Raising her hand, she hesitates for a moment and instead listens inside. Silence. Absolute silence. Dropping her head, she closes her eyes and raises her fist before banging it on the door. There is a slight pause for the anxiety riddled Valentine, and as the door opens she hardly even wants to look.

Aimz: Viv?

Vivica looks up at the woman she calls her friend and immediately answers, speaking very quickly.

Valentine: Do you have a minute? Are you busy? I don't want to cause you anymore trouble but I need to talk to you.

Aimz: I've said it a hundred times - it's not your fault there's trouble.

The trouble they're both referring to could very well be lurking a little deeper in that room,
because Amy is quick to step outside of it, ushering Vivica to stay with her.

Aimz: How're you feeling?

Valentine: Angry. Pissed off. Betrayed...

Vivica shakes her head.

Valentine: But you're right about me needing to relax and take it easy. I do tend to fly off the deep end sometimes and I'm brash... I don't think. I've had a lot of time to think this one through, though, and I wanted you to be the first to know that I'm not going to do anything to Alex. I'm going to chalk all this up to a misunderstanding and try to work this out... for your sake.

Campbell shakes her head.

Aimz: You heard her, though - it wasn't just a misunderstanding. I don't understand what the fuck's going through her head with this whole thing, but, honestly? You've got every right to fight back. She's too goddamn stubborn to know when she's picking a pointless fight, but I think I've gotten her to keep from being that vicious again. She just... I'm not sure what's going on with her, but at least she knows I won't just stand by and let her blindside you like she did.

Valentine: This isn't my fight, Amy. I don't want to fight her. Call me crazy but I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately and... I'd like to think if it wasn't for this whole insane wrestling thing, that we'd still be friends. As far as friends go, as embarassing as it is to say... you're about all I got left. I'm not going to do anything stupid to jeopardize that, no matter what Alex does. I won't fight her. I won't.

Aimz: If I can't convince her to back down, there's gonna come a point where you have to.

She sighs.

Aimz: I'm so sorry about all of this, y'know. I'm hoping it's just a phase, some wild hair of hers. She claims she won't ever make me choose, but this is straight bullshit, watching my girlfriend go after someone who's basically my best friend.

Another sigh, and Amy shrugs.

Aimz: She'll come around. She has to.

Valentine: I sure hope so... but we have a match tonight, and I have something I wanted you to listen to. Maybe we could come out to it tonight? It's the song from The G--

"Amy?"

Valentine: Hey, we'll talk later. Yeah? I just needed to get that off my chest.

Aimz: Sorry, I should...

She glances back to the locker room.

Aimz: ... Yeah... so text me the title, we'll have a little pow-wow before we head out. I promise you're safe from her shit for at least tonight, alright?

Valentine: Yeah, I'll try not to be too much trouble.

Vivica's words come out with a mischiveous smile, before she starts backpedalling towards the direction in which she came. Meanwhile another mention of her name sends Aimz scrambling back into her locker room, and the scene fades to black.

Back to Top


At the window of his skybox, Christian Zenith stands looking down upon the ring stories below him on Sports Authority Field. Fans turn and spot him, waving desperately to try and break his focus to no avail. It isn't long before the masked Rasa, wearing a mask made of black mesh joins him. The Heir to New York glances over at his monster before he nods apporvingly. However, the faint sound of orchestral bells break their otherwise peaceful silence. The two share a glance before turning around behind them towards the door.

Bryan: Do you hear that?

Yale: Church bells.

Bryan: That's the craziest thing, there isn't a church you could possibly hear over this crowd.

Smoke billows in from under the door, leading Christian to wave his hand towards a fire extinguisher on the far wall. The obidenient Rasa quickly stalks over in its direction as Zenith takes a few more steps towards the door. Before he could get to check it for heat, the door flies open causing Christian to jump backwards.

HARD. ROCK. HALLELUJAH.

HARD. ROCK. HALLELUJAH!


Yale: No...

Bryan: It has to be!

As the fog machine wafts into Christian's private skybox, the sound of Lordi's "Hard Rock Hallelujah" accompanies from what sounds like a boom box just outside of the door as GCW's resident rock star comes powersliding into room on his knees. However the music quickly gets overshadowed by his coughing from over exposure to the fog machine and his powerslide ends in a face plant as he hits carpet.

Zenith: Dear God...

Bryan: It's Rikki Roxx! Rikki Roxx is back!

Yale: Didn't they find him in a dumpster a few months ago?

Before Rikki Roxx can even get back up to his feet, Rasa is there with a fire extinguisher, spraying the embarassed Roxx as if he were on fire. The laughter of the crowd can now be heard as the boom box has either died or become unplugged. Christian simply looks at his masked personal security advisor and shakes his head.

Zenith: Call security.

Roxx (coughing): NO! Wait there rock n' rollas! The Roxx has got somptin ta say babay!

Zenith: I think you've made a big enough ass out of yourself already.

Roxx: Just a New York minute of your time, The Maharajah Of Rock N Roll ain't ever on GCW television no mo'.

Trying to wipe the fire extinguisher chemical off of himself, Rikki Roxx scrambles up to his feet as GCW's leading duo just watch in bewilderment.

Roxx: ALLLLRIIGGGHHHHHHTTTTTT!

A roar of approval comes from the crowd as the Roxxchild belts out his signature word styling.

Zenith: You have 30 seconds.

Roxx: GCW has lost it's rock n roll! Without Rikki Roxx, this place is just livin' on a prayer, baby! The Roxxster is here to save metal for the masses! All he needs is just a spot in the Dangerous Games match, and he can make everyone's rock n roll fantasies come true! All the boys and girls look up to DragonEater, it'll be good for business my man! Plus could you imagine...

Rikki Roxx turns around and separates his hands in the air as if he's making a marquee.

Roxx: Rikki Roxx... your NEW GCW World Heavyweight Champion. ALLLLRRIIIIIGGGGHHHTTTTTT!

Zenith: No, I can't picture that at all.

Roxx: Oh c'mon babay, just gimme a shot. Don't give love a bad name.

Christian simply raises an eyebrow.

Roxx: I'll earn it! I'll do whateva ya want! I'll even become a slave to the grind! Dress up in one of those halloween costumes ya'll seem ta like so very much.

Rikki Roxx points at Rasa, who simply shakes its head.

Zenith: Dangerous Games is very competitive this year. The board has reduced the number of entrants from 30 to 25 to cut off the fat or in the case of GCW, "the roxx", to provide the most entertaining and competitive event possible for the fans.

Booing can be heard in the distance.

Roxx: C'mon babay, don't be like that. How about The Maestro Of Metal makes a deal with tha devil. Rikki Roxx wins a match... he gets his spot in Dangerous Games! Whatcha say?

A roar of approval from the crowd accompanies Rikki's request as he runs past Zenith over to the window and throws his arms up into the air, trying to get the crowd support behind him. With metal horns high over his head, Rikki closes his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

Zenith: You have one chance.

Rikki Roxx leaps into the air and the crowd goes crazy.

Zenith: But your match is next, if you don't make it, you don't get it.

Roxx: ALLLLLLLLLRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!

With those words, the platinum blonde rock God goes sprinting out of the room with metal horns raised high in the air.

Bryan: Rikki Roxx BACK in Dangerous Games?!

Yale: He has to win a match first, JB, and I'm not sure if I've EVER seen him win a match.

Bryan: I'm not sure if he ever will, but these fans sure love him. He'll definitely have some crowd support.

Yale: If only it were a populary contest, Rikki Roxx wouldn't be the total failure he is today.

Back to Top


You might figure there was a luster to the part of Mile High Stadium that was normally beyond the reach of the average ticket buying fan, but you’d be wrong. It was just more of the same: cinderblock walls painted white with the occasional ‘exit’ and ‘emergency’ signs. That might explain the disappointed look on the United States Champion’s face as he wanders the maze of corridors. It’s only the slightest grin that turns the camera around, view focusing now just over Redding’s shoulder.

Redding: Nice work out there, kid.

A quick pan to the left brings the girl we've come to know as the Devil's Daughter into frame. Quinn Gregory has had the chance to change since the shenanigans she engaged in earlier, back in the jeans and a smart-assed t-shirt we've become accustomed to from her. This shirt simply reads, "I've got all the PERSONALITY I need right here," with the word 'Personality' scrawled across her chest. Her dark hair is held back, and she looks up from her phone with kind of an aggrieved sigh.

Quinn: Well, now that I've got a douchebag's approval, I'm totally set, aren't I?

We're not far from the catering area, with the Teenaged Nightmare leaning against the wall, feverishly texting -- which she goes back to once she's addressed her interruptor.

Redding: Hey, ya know if that cute and innocent deal stops working for you; I think you could learn a lot from Grady. Hell, maybe you could teach him some things. But that’s not the point. I keep forgetting that you have to talk in short sentences to the youth of today. Let me start this again. Where is Kathi?

The teen waves in the general direction of the locker rooms.

Quinn: Somewhere that way? I don't know. Amy suggested that Mom find another locker room, so I'm sort of out on my own until he finds something.

She pastes on a plastic, saccharine smile, tucking her phone into the leather holster at her hip.

Quinn: Why, is there a message I can give her? Were you planning to confess your undying love?

Redding: Undying... what? Why would I do that?

Quinn: You'd be surprised how many times it happens, actually.

Redding: Cougars, I tells ya. But, no. I was thinking, as a change of pace, if she could leave my testis alone. Might be the type of thing she could do for a teammate tonight.

Quinn: I guess it depends on whether you can dial down the douchefuck, doesn't it? I'm sure she'll behave. She's all excited about Phil wrestling again. But that's between you and her -- and I guess Phil. They're not with us if you catch my drift.

Redding: I think I get it. I think I’m better off for it. It’ll be nice to be paired with a guy that’d rather punch me in the face than hit me low from behind.

Her lips crinkle in a smirk that's far more amused than it probably should be given the circumstance and the closeness to a capable combatant.

Quinn: Awww, did you not like your dealing with us girls? It's okay, we've moved on to bigger things and more douchey people...

To draw the teenager’s attention, he shifts the US title he has had draped over his shoulder.

Redding: I think this says otherwise. Actually, I think it was Zenith who said otherwise. For whatever reason he’s decided Campbell should get a second shot at this.

Quinn: And Mom has decided that your pretty little shiny doesn't mean as much as proving her point.

She lifts a shoulder, lips twisting again, this time in mock regret.

Quinn: So sorry, you'll just have to deal with Amy kicking your face off rather than Mom doing it. So it's kiiiiind of a six-of-one deal.

He draws a hand up, thumb and forefinger stretched across to either temple.

Redding: Wait, am I really doing this with a seventeen year-old? Was Pierce’s point that she’d rather endanger you than lose a match? Is this her idea of quality family time?

Quinn: Uh, no, this is me texting my friends back home. You're the one who charged over to me because you're scared Aunt Kathi will punch you in the balls. Again. Which would inevitably lead to you losing. Again.

She rolls her eyes, freeing the phone from its holster. She's looking down at its face while she continues.

Quinn: Generally, this is when you make some big threat. Maybe push me up against a wall?

Her eyes lift, and her smile is short, but curling.

Quinn: Whatever it is you boys do when you're getting nowhere just with words.

The bitter words from the child are enough to spark a curt grin from the Willing Villain.

Redding: Right. I’m actually starting to think that maybe you do belong around here. Hell, this place can’t be so scary with Kingsley back hiding in the weeds. Let me officially welcome you to the asylum. We’re all someone’s target.

Her grin quirks as her thumb taps the spot on the screen that would be the send button.

Quinn: Yeah, sure. And I'm just seventeen for... oh, eleven more days now. Which means that until then, all I am is a target, right? So I should probably toddle back to California, go back to school, become one of the drones, right?

Redding: This carnival has always been a haven to the mislead and misinformed, the malcontent. You ain’t my target; bigger douchebags, right?

Quinn: Just as well for you. Because my other choice would be to find the people who'd consider me a target and find some way to deal with them first. I mean... Do Unto Others Before They Do Unto You is practically the Pierce family motto, and I do have powerful friends.

Speaking of which, it's about now that a shadow darkens the doorway, dwarfing both the United States Champion and the Devil's Daughter. That gravelly, accented voice... that's the Mushmouth Man-Mountain, Roderick Ashe, who also happens to be the teen's bodyguard babysitter.

Ashe: Oy, whaddafuck's this. Yer s'posed to leave dipfucks like this twerp alone.

Redding looks up to the broad face.

Redding: Where... is that accent from? Did you just bite your tongue? Relax, Goliath. I was only talking to the kid. And it ain’t like I’ll rat on ya to Pierce for sleeping on duty.

Ashe grunts something unintelligible, but Gregory is practically beaming as she oozes her response.

Quinn: Oh, he wasn't sleeping. First off...

She accepts a box of popcorn from the big man.

Quinn: I wanted something to nosh on while I watched you get your face handed to you on a platter. And second... well, fish don't bite on the bait if they can see the hook, you know?

Alex shifts his glance back and forth between the pair.

Redding: There’s that, and that fact that this is actually getting kinda boring. So why don’t you go back to losing yourself in your phone. Big man here will go back to his glorified position of babysitter. I’ll wander a little further into the house that Elway built; maybe I’ll find whatever broom closet Aimz is making Pierce use as a dressing room.

Quinn: If you really think Amy makes Mom do anything, you really don't understand how things work around here. But go on. Have a grand old time. I had to test to see if the trap would work.

Redding: I just pray your prey isn’t looking for much more than conversation, kiddo. Happy hunting, though. Do me a favour? Try to act surprised when Aimz wanders back here beaten and more frustrated than ever?

And this time its Redding’s turn to flash the insincere smile.

Redding: It’s been nice, whatever it is when you move your mouth and sound comes out, Mushmouth.

Ashe: Beat ya ass later, twerp.

With that, Your Willing Villain starts walking past the two, in the same direction as before: nowhere in particular. Ashe turns to the girl, glancing after the US champion. He shakes his head.

Ashe: Whaddafuck was that?

He snatches the box of popcorn back.

Ashe: Gimme that back, dammit.

The girl releases a long, shuddery breath, standing straight for a moment.

Quinn: That was... yeah. We should go find Mom.

Ashe shrugs, and they walk in the other direction. We, however, cut away.

Back to Top

Joey Andrews is but an ant inside the middle of a piece of construction paper as seen from a camera angle high on the top of Sports Authority Field.

Andrews: The following matchup is scheduled for ONE FALL, and the winner is GUARANTEED a entry spot into the Dangerous Games BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTLE ROYAL!

Bryan: With only 25 spots this year, GCW has trimmed the fat in past years so to speak making it difficult to earn an opportunity to be in the battle royal. These two individuals may just be a victim of circumstance, and both need a win in a BIG way to get their careers back on track.

Yale: I'm not sure if Cameron Garret has ever won a match, and I KNOW Rikki Roxx hasn't. Roxx has about as much of a shot of getting his "career" back on track as I do of getting married to a Hawaiian Tropics model.

Bryan: That's awfully optimistic of you.

Yale: No. It's not at all. That's the point.

The recognizable beat of "Amazing" by Kanye West echoes around Mile High as the lights shift towards the stage.

So amazing, so amazing, so amazing
It's amazing, so amazing, so amazing, so amazing, It's amazing


Rings out over the speakers of the arena, followed by the slamming of an deer skin drum. Over and over, the sounds echo as the fans rise to their feet. The sounds of Kanye West belts out of the deep bass coming from the speakers.

It's amazing, I'm the reason
Everybody fired up this evening
I'm exhausted, barely breathing
Holding on to what I believe in


As the last words of the first verse come out of Kanye’s mouth across the screen comes the words "Amazing Superstar".

No matter what, you'll never take that from me
My reign is as far as your eyes can see
It's amazing, so amazing, so amazing, so amazing
It's amazing


Coming out from behind the screen with a flare of pyrotechnics of green and white comes Cameron Garret comes out spinning with both arms flared out getting a rise out of the crowd.

I'm amazing (amazing), yeah I'm all that (all that)
If I ain't on my grind than what you call that (what you call that)
Victorious, yeah we warriors
We make history, strive for victory (yeah)
Standing at my podium, I'm trying to watch my sodium
Die high blood pressure either let the feds catch ya (yeah)
I'm amazing born on a full moon
I was breed to get it in, no spoon
That's why I'm so goon summer time no joke
Big family small house, no room
They like "Oh God, why he go so hard
Look what he's been through, he deserves an applause"


Andrews: Introducing first from Tacoma, Washington... weighing in at 225 pounds, THE AMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZING SUPERSTAR, CAMERRRRON GARRET!

As the song rings out Cameron starts to make his way to the ring where he stares at it for a moment prior to entering it. He stands back and slides in underneath the bottom rope. He jumps right back up and flex’s his arms. One last time pyros shoot out from the entrance way as Cameron looks at the crowd, smiling and eagerly awaiting his next opponent.

Yale: Damn that song is long.

Bryan: You do realize that Rikki Roxx is next, right?

Yale: Dear God... I might take up reading.

Bryan: Bring anything with you?

Yale: Yeah, War And Peace, we'll see who finishes first.

Bryan: I'd put my money o--

HARD. ROCK. HALLELUJAH.

HARD! ROCK! HALLELUJAAAAAAAAHHHH!


"Hard Rock Hallelujah" by Lordi echoes over the stadium as the fans rise to their feet... then head to the aisles and towards the concession stand. As they head up the stairs to get their refreshments they miss a huge light show going on at the entrance under the specially made improptu MegaTron. Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, Purple, and Orange lights alternate along with matching lasers as smoke fills the entrance.

Right as the lyrics kick in suddenly a figure powerslide through the entrance and goes clear past the fog flashing with different colors as he holds up a metal sign on each hand with his tongue out.

The saints are crippled
On this sinnersī night
Lost are the lambs
With no guiding light
The walls come down like thunder
The rocks about to roll
Itīs The Arockalypse
Now bare your soul


Andrews: Coming down the aisle hailing from West Hollywood, California. Weighing in at 183 pounds... The Maestro Of Metal, The Maharajah Of Rock And Roll, The Heir of HARDCOOOOOORE, RIKKKKIIIIIIII ROOOOXXXXXXXX!

Getting off of his knees Rikki Roxx looks into the crowd in appreciation of the couple dozen people in their seats still cheering for him. Holding the metal sign into the air on his right hand he heads down the aisle towards the ring. His blonde mullet flows behind him wrapped in a black headband. The lights shimmer off of his usually overly oiled not-so-chiseled chest, but today is just a black long-john style shirt with skulls under an undersized chrome studded leather jacket.

All we need is lightning
With power and might
Striking down the prophets of false
As the moon is rising
Give us the sign
Now let us rise up in awe


Bryan: Rikki Roxx certainly with an... apathetic reaction from the crowd here.

Yale: Chapter Twelve.

Rikki Roxx sighs before stepping into the ring. With a quick run Rikki Roxx power slides across the mat on his knees before coming to a stop just before the ropes. Looking into the crowd he spots a girl in the front row cheering him on. Pointing at her he winks with a smile before using the ropes to pull himself back up to his feet. Then falls down. Then gets back up to his feet, embarrassed.

Walking over towards the turnbuckle nearest to him he climbs up to the top rope. He puts his hand like a visor over his eyes as if he's looking at every single person in the crowd moving his head back and forth. Putting his arms into the air he salutes the crowd with the double devil horns before he bangs his head for a minute to the rockin' sounds of Lordi.

Rock īn roll angels bring thyn hard rock hallelujah
Demons and angels all in one have arrived
Rock īn roll angels bring thyn hard rock hallelujah
In Godīs creation supernatural high


Slowly getting down from the top rope Rikki Roxx stands in his corner preparing for his match as the fans begin to file back into their seats slowly after the horribly long entrance. They are now prepared for what everyone loves to see. A car wreck... or the equivalent there-of in a Rikki Roxx match.

Bryan: I think... everyone is now refreshed and we're ready to start this match!

DING! DING! DING!

Yale: DAMMIT! Almost made it, too!

"ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?!" Rikki Roxx screams into the masses and leaves Cameron Garret left in the middle of the ring with one hand in the air, attempting to goad Roxx into a test of strength. Rikki Roxx pays no attention, waving his hand around in a circle before putting it up to his ear only to hear the mile high air pass through his makeshift windtunnel. Stomping his foot on the ground, Garret manages to catch the attention of Roxx who turns around and sees him with one hand lifted high into the air. With his left hand, he waves Rikki towards him and looks up to his right hand extended in the air.

Yale: Does Rikki even know what Cameron Garret wants to do here?

Bryan: I think we can all agree that Rikki Roxx isn't the smartest man on the roster, but he's been a member of the GCW roster for years. Regardless of ability, Roxx has been a professional wrestler for as long as most of the roster.

With that being said, Rikki Roxx runs and jumps into the air, high-fiving Cameron Garret before powersliding the rest of the way to the ropes playing an air guitar.

"ALLLLLLLRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!"

Yale: You were saying?

Bryan: I got nothing to say to that.

Yale: Me neither.

Roxx points back at Garret and voices "I feel ya, I gotcha back!" before pulling himself up to his feet. With his attention on his opponent for the first time the entire match, he doesn't even notice the giant foot the cracks against the back of his head rendering him unconscious in the middle of the ring.

Bryan: MY LORD!

Yale: Now, THIS is what I'm talking about!

Behind the corpse of Rikki Roxx is Shaman. The crowd roars into jeers as six-foot, nine-inches of pissed off Native-American stares right into the eyes of Cameron Garret. The "Amazing Superstar" sees this as an opportunity to make himself famous, and charges the former GCW Hardcore Champion and is quickly met with a vicious punch to the face. The shot knocks Garret to the ground, thwarting any hopes the crowd had for retribution. He jerks Cameron back up like a rag doll and looks up into the Skybox where Christian Zenith watches on. He points back at the commissioner before seemingly knocking the life out of Garret with a Desert Spike!

Bryan: We haven't seen Shaman like this in quite some time!

Yale: He's certainly pissed off about what happened to him at the hands of Christian Zenith a few WorldWide's ago.

Bryan: I'd like to say his message has been delivered, but he's look back at Rikki Roxx again.

He stalks over the unconscious corpse of the Maharajah Of Rock And Roll, but finally his message hits it's target as "In A House, In A Heartbeat" by Bring Me The Horizon plays.

Bryan: Oh boy...

Yale: HOSS FIGHT.

It doesn't take long for the black-mesh masked monster to appear under the MegaTron. Wearing a black leather trench coat with steel spikes coming out of the top and a thick black padded shirt, the monster stands in at well over 7-foot, eight-inches tall and looks like a giant among children as it makes it's way down towards the ring. In the ring Shaman sneers and backs away, beckoning the giant to step into his ring.

Bryan: The size of this Rasa is just UNREAL.

Yale: When you see it in person, you think it's some kind of animatronic monster, but it's real. It's a living, breathing, REAL monster. It's GIGANTIC.

Bryan: The television just doesn't do Rasa justice, here.

Grabbing the top rope, Rasa lifts itself to the apron before stepping over the top rope. Behind Shaman, Cameron Garret makes his escape to the back still dazed and confused but well-knowing of the fact he wants to be nowhere near these two. The masked beast walks over to Shaman, towering above the colossal hardcore machine who may not have ever looked up to someone in GCW in his life. Cold. Emotionless. Rasa stands like a killer, hovering over Shaman who appears to be trying to set him on fire with his gaze alone.

Bryan: You can feel the tension here. These two want to tear each other apart.

Yale: What's stopping them?!

Bryan: I'm not quite sure, but listen to these people! They want to see a fight!

Rikki Roxx begins to stir on the mat, causing Shaman to look away from Rasa's mask for just a split-second. The monster doesn't make a move, confident in its demeanor. Shaman however, does... grabbing a hand full of blonde mullet and ripping him towards the center of the ring before planting him hard with a Desert Spike. A sickening smile crosses Shaman's face as he looks down at the lifeless Roxx before looking back at the monster, making sure it saw his dirty work before turning his back and leaving the ring.

"Serpentine Offering" by Dimmu Borgir blasts over Sports Authority Field as Shaman marches to the back and never looks back at Rasa II who stares him down from the middle of the ring. EMTs stand outside the ring, horrified by its presense as the scene changes.

Back to Top






Backstage.

It's just a few minutes before our sub-main event, and Phillip Kennedy cannot find his manager. This wouldn't ordinarily be a problem -- Kathryn Shaw is among GCW's most mercurial personalities -- but given that this is his first match in almost a year (not to mention the ever-changing environment of the last couple of weeks), he's a little on edge.

"I just don't understand why you won't cut me in on this."

Now that is a voice that Phillip recognizes, the low, throaty purr of America's Favorite Homewrecker, coming through the crack of a propped-open door. Who knows what the room's day-to-day use is -- an office of some kind, apparently. Kennedy crosses the hall, pushing in the door open.

Kennedy: Kathi, come on, we need to--

It takes a moment to realize what's going on in the room. There's a chessboard set up, and Kathryn is playing (and losing) a game to the redhead seated across from her. Alexandra Pierce looks up, her black rook sweeping across the board to claim Shaw's bishop.

Pierce: Ah, Phillip. I was just explaining to Kathryn how I was breaking up with her, so to speak. I'd ask you for advice on how to do it, but, well...

She lifts a hand.

The Big Stack shoots a wary glance at the Spider in the Web, and for a moment, it looks as if he is going to be very, very ill.

Kennedy: For the love of God, I hope to Hell you mean that in the proverbial sense. I’m going to be sick otherwise. They can’t show that on TV, right?

Solemnly, he takes off his Stetson, as if considering using it as an expensive barf bag.

Kennedy: Considering I’ve had my mouth on probably 99% of her body…I’d really rather not have picked up Alexandra cooties anywhere along the way.

Considering Phillip Kennedy would be something of a womanizer in a Kathryn Shaw-less world, this merely indicates just how much the Medusa creeps him the fuck out.

Kennedy: Go on, though. As always, I have no idea what you’re talking about, fearless leader.

Pierce: Well, I seem to recall that your terminating her services ended with a lariat in the middle of the ring, did it not?

Kennedy: Things change. I’m not flipping this chessboard and mugging you right now, without a damn for the consequences. Once upon a time, Director? I’d have taken my chances with you and yours. But I’ve had a few years to sit on the sidelines and calm myself down a bit.

The shake of the head and snort that follow aren’t particularly polite.

Kennedy: I still hate your fuckin’ guts, if it’s any consolation.

Pierce: Oh, likewise.

She taps the button on her side of the clock.

Pierce; But that's neither here nor there. I'm sure most people here expect me to reform the Dead Man's Hand. To put together a band of ne'er-do-wells and use them to crush Vivica and anyone else who stands in my way. I was just informing Kathryn that's not an option on the table right now. I intend to face Viv alone, and I wanted to tell her she won't be needing to accompany me to ringside for the near future. You can have her.

Kennedy: How…magnanimous of you, Alexandra. Truly, you are one of the good ones.

Phillip calmly placed a hand on Kathryn’s shoulder.

Kennedy: It’ll be like old times, you and I. A happy manager and client again. Provided, of course, that this isn’t another vintage Alexandra Pierce setup of yours truly – and before you give me that look, Alex, I know you are entirely capable of it if you want. I am not THAT stupid. Stupid? Yes. That stupid? No.

Pierce: With all due respect, Phil... you're just not on my radar right now. Half these people don't even know who you are. The other half don't know what kind of threat you are. My attention is on Vivica and the corrupt establishment she represents.

Shaw: So it's okay for Quinn to come with you, but I can't?

Pierce: Quinn is my daughter. You aren't.

She smiles, but it's not particularly convincing.

Pierce: It's not like I'm cutting you out of my life entirely. Just the business that happens out in the arena. It's not a demotion, more a... reorganization of responsibilities.

Kennedy: Forgive me for never believing a word that comes out of your mouth, Madame Director. I could give a damn about your beef with Vivica, but I’ve got a match with her and your girlfriend in about five minutes, so I don’t have too much more time to waste. Chess game’s over, kids.

With that, Kennedy pointedly snatched the king from Kathryn’s side of the board, and swung it into Alex’s matching piece. Grabbing Shaw’s hand, he began to drag his new and old manager back out of the room.

One more piece of business, first.

Kennedy: Oh, and say hi to Quinn for me. At least there’s one Pierce I get along with.

And then, just to be a dick, he pushed the clock button. DING!

Pierce: Phillip.

The steel in her voice stops him, but it doesn't turn him.

Pierce: I will stay out of your business. You stay out of mine. Which means you can try to beat Amy all day long, but the moment you try to hurt her, you'll answer to me, and since Kathryn works exclusively for you, she will, too.

Kennedy: I have no interest in reopening old wounds, Pierce. This match tonight wasn’t my idea. Quite honestly? I’d be perfectly happy to loathe you both from afar for the rest of my Godforsaken career.

Pierce: Likewise.

The smile turns brittle.

Pierce: Oh, and Kathi? Three moves to mate.

The It Couple (if they're a couple and we're not saying they are but we're also not saying they're not) of GCW slips out to the hallway. Shaw glances behind her to the door, swinging shut behind them. Phillip lays a hand on her forearm.

Kennedy: You okay?

Shaw: Yeah. I just... I've never beaten her, you know? Never.

Kennedy: That’s okay, Kat. Neither have I. But I will, one day.

His fingers lace with hers, holding her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

Kennedy: I will beat that woman someday if it puts me in the goddamned ground.

If this were a TV show, the dramatic chord would play here as we cut away.

Back to Top


Bryan: I hear now that we're backstage with Sally Ford again, Sally you there?

The camera comes alive on the mobile MegaTron as Sally looks back with a big smile.

Ford: I'm here, JB.

Bryan: I hear you're backstage with a special guest, finally. Hopefully you won't be interrupted this time.

Ford: Yeah, still a little banged up but I'm backstage here with former GCW World Heavyweight Champion... Vivica J. Valentine.

A pan out reveals the Fearless Phenom to be standing right next to the blonde-haired interviewer without the big giant smile on her face. As the crowd roars in approval, Vivica gives a little wave back at the camera while Sally continues on...

Ford: Thank you for joining us tonight, Vivica.

Valentine: It's my pleasure.

Ford: At the beginning of the night Desade had some choice words for you after her ambush attack on you at WorldWide: High Stakes, paraphrasing here in saying that she said that you can't be anti-establishment if you're the one who is already established and that you had a cup of coffee as a villain... and you couldn't even do that right. Your thoughts?

Valentine: There was a lot of jealousy, there... yeah? Look, she'll roll her eyes at me but I know exactly what it's like to be Desade. I know what it's like to struggle to the top and I know even more about what it's like to feel like someone else is given the opportunities that you deserve. The thing Desade has to learn around Global Championship Wrestling is that this place has had for too many "big names" show up and act like they're above the place only to come in, take the ball, and vanish off the face of the Earth. You see if I was "a villain for a cup of coffee" then she has only been in GCW for a cup of coffee and expects the world to be handed to her because she did such great things in SCCW and GTT. Well this is GCW, it ain't either of those.

Vivica pauses for a second, calming down and trying to sort her words out in her mind.

Valentine: But the fact of the matter is it took me over twice as long as she's been here to get my first World Championship opportunity. It's the way things work around here and sometimes it's a slow and rewarding process, but when you prove to those fans that you're the real deal and you're in it to win it... you'll get your chances, just like I have. There is no doubt in my mind that Alex has the desire, the heart, and my God the talent to succeed in this place and take the World Heavyweight Championship. There is no doubt in my mind that she's one of the most talented professional wrestlers on the planet. But it's this sense of entitlement... that somehow by losing to Johnny Borealis she deserves something that I somehow didn't deserve by losing to Karina Wolfenden in a match that was just as competitive... that I don't understand.

Ford: So, it begs the question, are you looking for retribution?

Valentine: No... nothing like that, like I said I understand Alex's frustration. She chooses to direct it at me and I think it's misguided but... Dangerous Games is coming. If Alex wants to prove to the world that she is the only person in Global Championship Wrestling talented enough to hold the World Heavyweight Championship she'll have her chance to do it just like I did and win the thing. I fully intend on winning the thing myself, but best of luck to her. She'll definitely be a tough-out.

Ford: What is this exactly... is this a new Vivica J. Valentine? A mature Vivica J. Valentine?

Valentine: I don't know if I was ever "not mature" as much as... well, there are other things involved here and I'd really hate to burn bridges.

Ford: Aimz?

Valentine: Yeah, she's a good friend of mine and the last thing I'm going to be is "that person." I just hope this situation resolves itself.

Ford: Aimz is of course Desade's girlfriend, are you worried about any of Desade's feelings coming out through Aimz? Are you concerned at all about some uncertainty from your tag team partner tonight?

Valentine: Ehhh, no. Not at all. I mean Amy Campbell is a good friend of mine. Let's not joke that Alex and I have ever really seen eye-to-eye. She's kind of had an eye on me the entire time she's been in GCW because of the friendship I'd struck up with Amy. I'm not concerned about Amy's loyalty. I know where her loyalty lies... and it's to both of us, and I know I at least would never ask her to choose. If Alex wants to go that route... ehhh... we'll just have to see I guess. I'm going to spend more time concerning myself with those who care about me than those who don't.

Ford: Any final thoughts of the audience?

Valentine: Nope, I'll see you all soon.

The Fearless Phenom waves back into the camera with a forced smile as Sally Ford sends it back to the media box.

Ford: Back to you Dave and JB.

Back to Top

Bryan: Up next, we've got what's sure to be an interesting tag team bout.

Yale: Lesbians and kinda lesbians against poker players and awesome Canadians. It's an age-old story, really.

Bryan: Phillip Kennedy makes his GCW debut teaming with the United States Champion, as they take on two of the most dynamic women in the sport, Vivica J. Valentine and Aimz.

Yale: Given that Aimz and Desade still seem to be together and that Kathryn Shaw manages both Pierce and Kennedy, I think this might go badly for Valentine.

Bryan: I hardly think Amy would screw over Viv like that. They're friends.

Yale: Are they, JB? Are they really?

Bryan: [with a sigh] In any event, let's go up to the--

Lights out.

Bryan: --ring?

Yale: Did somebody just jump the gun?

The chanted beginning of Machine Head's "I Am Hell (Sonata in C#)" echoes through Sports Authority Field, and this time, the crowd is ready for it, so they get up to make their displeasure known.

Bryan: I cannot BELIEVE this lot. So disgusting.

Yale: That they're not out here all the time? I know, me too!

There are two women on the elevator rising onto the stage with a big man looming over them.

Yale: I don't know about you, but I'm certainly warming up.

Bryan: Will you please control yourself?

On your right, that's Quinn Gregory, and she's shed her goodie-two-shoes dress for some skintight denim and the same t-shirt we saw earlier, the one that reads "I've got all the PERSONALITY I need right here," with the word "personality" scrawled across a part of her anatomy that she's too young for you to stare at. She's keeping warm in a thick coat and a knit cap, and they just happen to proudly bear the Patriots logo, which simply serves to rile up the Bronco faithful.

Bryan: I think I'm most disappointed in her. Quinn always seemed like such a nice girl.

Yale: You'd better watch your tongue, JB. That girl is like royalty. Fucking wrestling royalty. Not that I'd use the word "fucking" in the same sentence as her for another--

Bryan: Eleven days.

Yale: Eleven days till its not skeevy to ogle her!

On the left, still wrapped up in the same vintage Aimz hoodie she wore earlier, stands the Queen of Lies. Her hands are stuffed into the pouch along the front of her sweatshirt, and her hood is drawn up against the wind, but even that isn't enough to conceal the utterly foul mood she's in.

Yale: Somebody is in for it based on the look on Pierce's face.

Bryan: Gosh, I hope it's not someone who made an inappropriate comment about her daughter.

Yale: ...all I said was that she was practically a princess.

They make their way to the ring side-by-side, and the big man in a bigger parka trails behind them. His name is Roderick Ashe, and his function becomes apparent once a particularly boisterous takes exception to something Quinn says. The fan shoots to his feet to say something unkind, and the Devil's Daughter squeaks, flinching back to her godmother's side. Her new outfit comes with high-heeled boots she's unused to, and the hasty retreat very nearly results in a nasty spill.

Yale: How rude ARE these people? She's just seventeen!

Bryan: Kissing up now isn't going to help you.

The fan and his buddies have some fun at the teen's wobble, but it's short-lived, as Ashe interposes himself between them and the girl and suddenly, they do not seem so eager to jeer.

Bryan: Fans, please remember that you should always leave the action to our stars, no matter how badly you think they may deserve it.

Yale: Deserve it? She's just innocently walking down to ringside and some guy at ringside objects to her coat? Do you think she picked that jacket out intentionally?

Bryan: Yes! I think we left "innocent" behind at the top of the show, Dave.

Quinn turns to her mother, wide-eyed with her "Oh my god!" as the Ladies Pierce veer towards the ring steps aimed for JB and Dave. Roderick trails behind, passing a final glare to the loudmouth in the front row.

Bryan: Well, it appears we're about to be joined by Desade and her daughter.

Yale: Is that what these chairs are for? I thought they were for whoever replaces us after we freeze to death.

Two chairs have been placed next to David Yale, and initially, it appears Alex intends to sit on the end, but that would put her daughter directly beside the man, so at the last moment, her hand emerges from that pocket to snag Gregory by the elbow, redirecting her to the outer chair. It's possible that Dave scoots closer to JB, and it's also possible that he does this out of consideration for her space at what's already a crowded table, and not because he's terrified of her.

There comes the rustling of headsets.

Bryan: Right off the top, do you prefer I call you Desade or Ms. Pierce?

Pierce: Just "Alex" is fine.

Bryan: All right. Alex, Quinn... thanks so much for joining us.

Pierce: Good evening.

Quinn: Hey, JB. I hear Dave is a big fan of mine. Isn't that right, Dave?

We get a great shot of Yale looking down the table, and then up-up-up to the mean mug of Mr. Ashe. He stammers out his answer.

Yale: ...uh. Yes? I mean yes. Of course I am. Heh-heh. I'm a big fan of... of you.

Bryan: For once, I'm going to come to my partner's defense, because we DO have a match to get to here, and I believe Joey Andrews has all of the particulars.

Quinn: Who?

Cut to: one bundled-up ring announcer.

Quinn: Wait, that guy has a name?

Andrews: The following TAG TEAM contest is scheduled for ONE FALL with a thirty-minute time limit. First, please welcome Phillip Kennedy's personal tantric advisor--

He manages to seethe with scorn.

Bryan: What?

Andrews: "The Siren" Kathryn Shaw!

There's some booing as Shaw steps through the curtain, stopping at the top of the ramp. As she waits, a small but noticeable "SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!" chant becomes audible.

Shaw: Now, come on. That is not at all a nice thing to say about good old what's-his-name here. I happen to think he's a heckuva guy.

That merely emboldens them, and more fans join in. The only signs of her growing irritation come in the form of the furrow of her brow and the extra bite of her words.

Shaw: Oh, like every single one of you wouldn't step on your mother's fucking back for an hour of my time.

As the boos rise again, intercut with sparse catcalls, the Siren smiles into the camera, and raises her microphone to her lips. For most of the male audience, it’s not a stretch to imagine it as something else. Preferably theirs.

Shaw: Ladies and gentlemen, introducing at this time…

The words are more drawled than spoken, in a tone of voice that probably has more than a few thirteen year olds watching in the audience and on TV believing they’ve discovered the meaning of life.

GCW sound techs? For the first time, give us a little Big & Rich. You know the words, don’t you?

DUM-DE-DE-DUM
DE-DE-DUM-DE-DE-DUM
DE-DAA-DAAAAA
DUM-DE-DE-DUM
DE-DE-DUM-DE-DE-DUM
DE-DAA-DAA-DAA-DAA-DAAAA!


Bryan: I love this song, I’m not going to lie.

Yale: You would. I love the woman in the ring. I could learn to like the guy whose music this is, though.

"Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" makes its GCW debut, as Phillip Kennedy emerges from behind the curtain, ready to make his OWN official GCW debut. The Big Stack wears a GCW t-shirt, black, with a pair of felt-green trunks, black boots, black kneepads, and a black Stetson hat capping off the entire ensemble.

Shaw: He comes to us tonight from Sin City – Las Vegas, Nevada! He stands an impressive nine in—oh, I’m sorry – six feet, three inches tall, and weighs in at two-hundred and forty four pounds!

Yale: Life just isn’t fair, Bryan. Some guys get to hit that.

Bryan: If what I hear is true, "some" is an understatement.

Yale: And not me? That’s truly tragic.

Well, I walk into the room
Passing out hundred dollar bills
And it kills and it thrills like the horns on my Silverado grill
And I buy the bar a double round of crown
And everybody's getting down
An' this town ain't never gonna be the same.


Shaw: He is the Las Vegas Lariat! The Sin City Savior! The man who makes me go oh-oh-oh-OHM, my Philly Bear…PHILLLLLIIIPPPPP KEENNNNEEEEEDDDDYYYYY!

Kennedy is in no hurry, soaking up his…Tantric Advisor’s introduction, and enjoying the jeering from the GCW crowd. It’s his first time walking the aisle in GCW, and he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth.

Cause I saddle up my horse
And I ride into the city
I make a lot of noise
Cause the girls
They are so pretty


As he saunters around the ring with America's Favorite Homewrecker on his arm, Kennedy reaches up, to pluck the black Stetson from his head. Turning in the direction of a comely lass, he casually tosses it in her direction, landing it atop her head. The grin on his face is a mile wide as he blows a kiss to the fan, prompting a brief, but noticeable glower from the woman at his side.

Riding up and down Broadway
On my old stud Leroy
And the girls say
Save a horse, ride a cowboy.
Everybody says
Save a horse, Ride a cowboy


With no further ado, Kathryn is all over her, err, "Tantric Advisee," pulling the black GCW shirt up and over his head. Her hands linger ever so briefly over his pectorals, before grabbing hold of his wrist and raising it skyward. Ready now for combat, the Stack settles back into a neutral corner, as Shaw triumphantly hands the microphone back to its usual owner.

Quinn: She's so awesome.

Yale: Who, Kathryn?

Quinn: She's my godmother, you know.

Yale: I've heard that.

Andrews: And his tag team partner!

Drums. Guitars. Give us some Hail the Villain, would you? It's about as much a 180° as one can make from Big & Rich.

Andrews: To be accompanied to the ringside area by his manager, Grady Patrick...

Cue the cane-bearing manager of the United States Champion, thrusting his cane in the air to get some notice. Grady... well, let's be honest, Grady never really looks happy, but all the shenanigans thus far really have him riled up.

Andrews: He hails from Kitchener, Ontario, Canada and weighs in at two hundred and TWENTY pounds and is the REIGNING GCW United States HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!! "The Willing Villain"! ALLLLLLLEEEEXANNNNNNNNDEEEERRRR REDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNG!!

It's the title belt that comes through the curtain first, thrust overhead by the champion. Consider it a reminder that while he might not get the showy entrances or the hot chicks talking up his manhood, he's got something nobody else in this match or at ringside has: a title belt.

Bryan: Alexander Redding making his way down to ringside. One of the interesting quirks about this match, Dave, is that Redding actually WRESTLED Kathryn Shaw just a couple of weeks ago at WorldWide 155, and now she'll effectively be in his corner!

Quinn: Gosh, JB, that is an interesting fact. Thanks so much for bringing it to our attention.

Yale: Don't worry, he dos that all the time. Like some kind of exposition bot.

Bryan: And let's not forget that it was against Redding that you hurt your knee in the first place, Alex.

Redding marches down to ringside, sliding under the bottom rope. He nudges aside the former SCCW Gateway Champion (think of it as a fancier name for the US Title), climbing up the turnbuckles.

Quinn: Also, JB, his manager totally whacked me in the face with a cane.

Bryan: Except he didn't.

Quinn: I seem to recall that he did.

Bryan: There's footage showing that you made the whole thing up!

Quinn: Well, agree to disagree.

Redding flashes the title belt, first at Alexandra seated at ringside and then up in the air for the rest of the crowd here in Denver.

Pierce: [low] Don't worry about me, kid. You have bigger problems today than me.

Patrick comes around to the announce booth, barking about the numbers game, and he thumps his cane against the table, but it goes no further, owing to the fact that there's a 6'8", 330-pound man daring him to come after the Devil's Daughter.

In the ring, meanwhile, Redding hands the title belt to the referee and the ref passes it down to the timekeeper's table. There is most assuredly no reason that we're mentioning this.

Andrews: And THEIR opponents!

The lights dim to a flickering gray as the cover of "Immigrant Song" by Karen O with Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross blares through the PA system.

Andrews: They come to us from a land just north of awesome and weigh in at a total combined weight of none of your damn business!

Yale: Oh for crying out loud...

Quinn: I think it's kind of awesome.

Ah-ah!
We come from the land of the ice and snow
From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow!
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands
To fight the horde, singing and crying; Valhalla, I am coming


Andrews: She is the former SCCW SUPERVERSAL Champion, the Red Raver, AIIIIIIMZ!!

It is the little redhead through the curtain first, in black pants and a black-and-silver Vivica J. Valentine t-shirt, pulling off a plastic rosary necklace. She rushes down to the side of the stage, pitching the necklace into the crowd.

Andrews: And SHE is the former GCW World Heavyweight Champion! The Fearless Phenom, VIVICA! JAAAAY! VALENTINE!!

The woman many would argue is the face of GCW darts out the other side. She's wearing black pants and a black-and-pink Aimz t-shirt.

Yale: They're color coordinated. How--

Pierce: Adorable? Yes. It's like Vivica isn't certain she can get that kind of cheer, isn't it?

Valentine and Campbell take a run at each other, then leap in the air to deliver a high-five.

Quinn: ...okay, I might seriously lose my lunch.

The two women come down the ramp side-by-side, slapping fans hands, and they come around to the announce table. Amy is first to notice the pair at ringside; Quinn earns a somewhat reluctant high-five. Vivica sees it a moment later, but doesn't approach -- she's not going to let herself be goaded. Campbell and Valentine ascend to different turnbuckles, drinking in the ovation.

Bryan: Looks like things are going to stay under control here after all.

Pierce: Of course they are. I'm not unreasonable, JB.

Bryan: I'm not sure people would agree, but I digress. David Fellows -- who I believe you attacked last week, I might add --

Pierce: Unfortunate casualties.

Bryan: David calls for the bell--

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Bryan: And we are UNDERWAY!

Yale: [low] He's always like that. So excited about starting.

Quinn: My Aunt Kathi says that guys who start strong tend to finish quick.

Yale: [with a snicker] I think that describes him to a T. You are a wise girl.

Quinn: I'll be a wise woman in eleven days.

Pierce: [off-handed] Please don't flirt with the hired help, dear.

Quinn: Yes, Mom.

Yale: We weren't flirting! I mean, were we?

Pity poor JB -- it's up to him to keep them focused on the match.

Bryan: We've got the reigning United States Champion taking on the two-time champ, as Vivica J. Valentine circles Alexander Redding! Viv lunges for one of Redding's legs, but the Willing Villain skitters aside and--collar-and-elbow tie-up!

Quinn: Who'll come out on top, the asshole or the hypocrite? Let's find out! Oh, it looks like hs jerky powers are triumphant!

Bryan: Redding backs Valentine into a neutral corner, and David Fellows immediately lays down his count! Will we maybe get a clean break from the US Champ? No! Overhand blow! But Viv slips out of the way, and Redding smashes his hand into that turnbuckle pad!

Quinn: But who will love him if he hurt his hand?

Bryan: Viv spins Alexander around into the corner and--

*SMACK*
"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"


Bryan: A hard knife-edge chop! Valentine follows it up with a knee to the gut, and she whips Redding corner-to-corner across the hypotenuse of the ring--

Quinn: Ooh, somebody got a Word-of-the-Day calendar for Christmas.

Bryan: She stays on his heels and--OH! Leaping knee to the jaw! She keeps hold of the head... bulldog!

Quinn: Is that in the Straight Edge handbook?

Yale: Man, JB, it's like I don't have to say anything, because she's got it all handled. I could just take the match off.

Quinn: You should still maybe pitch in? I'm eventually going to run out of material.

Pierce: Don't believe her. She hasn't run out y--

Alex cuts herself off as Vivica slips to the outside and leaps up to the top in a single bound. Perched there, she glances down to the announce booth. Despite what she may have said earlier, you have to think some part of the Bulletproof Blonde is gauging distances, considering if she can make it, especially as Alex lets her headset drop to the table and rises to her feet.

Yale: If she jumps, she's going to hit me, JB!

Quinn: If she jumps, she's going to regret it.

Bryan: Viv turns her attention back to -- REDDING! Just like that! Vivica Valentine let herself get distracted for just a few seconds, and Alexander Redding took advantage with a pop-up butterfly suplex! Sit down and stay out of the action!

Quinn: I don't know what you were watching, but Mom just just standing there, stretching her legs. Is it really her fault that Vivica was busy drunkenly wobbling on the top like that?

Bryan: Oh, come on! "Drunkenly"? You just SAID she's straight edge!

Quinn: I know I've seen her on TV claiming that she is. I'm not with her 24/7, so she could be like that chick with the shaved head, you know?

Bryan: Redding back up to his feet! He drives Vivica back into the ropes and makes the tag to Phillip Kennedy! Double Irish whip across the ring and -- BOOM! Kennedy with a hard running clothesline! He shows immediately why they call him the Las Vegas Lariat!

Yale: Who are "they"?

Quinn: [instantly] Aliens.

Bryan: Phillip yanks Viv up by the arm! Short-arm lari--ducked! Valentine continues off the ropes and--

It's been more than a year since the Big Stack wrestled a real match, and that kind of layoff means you miss things. Like blind tags.

Bryan: Blind tag by Aimz! Valentine ducks another lariat attempt! Kennedy off the ropes now--oh! Drop toe hold by Viv! Right into the knee of Aimz! Kennedy got folded in half!

Quinn: Boom, baby! Pin him, Aim!

Bryan: Kennedy laid out and -- VIV! Standing moonsault! She rolls off and -- Campbell! Amy drops one of her own! Valentine with a sky-high tuck-senton! And Aimz with the standing shooting star! Rapid fire offense from Team ValenAimz!

Quinn: Is that some kind of condiment?

Bryan: Aimz reaches back for a leg!



ONE!!!






TWO!!!



Yale: Redding!

Bryan: Alex Redding into the ring, and he breaks up the pin with a hard stomp to the back of Amy's head! The Red Raver shoots up to her feet -- she clearly wants to get a piece of the US champion, but the Willing Villain is not so willing, and he bails to the outside!

Quinn: Brother don't want none!

Yale: ...uh...

Quinn: Am I too white to say that?

Yale: Maybe a little.

Bryan: Aimz turns her attention back to Phillip Kennedy as he rolls to his side -- sliding dropkick! Amy kips back up and... oh, she's measuring him! Aimz sizing up Phillip Kennedy for the Bitchkiller! That head punt is a move Kennedy knows all too well! Didn't it almost put him out of the sport?

Pierce: It did when I delivered it.

Bryan: Kennedy senses it coming, and he rolls out to the floor! Aimz with a quick tag to Viv and she charges! Suicide dive on Phillip Kennedy! Vivica charges right after! Suicide di--no! Grady pulled his man out of the way! Valentine crashes and burns here by us!

Quinn: Awww... did widdle Vivvie get a booboo? God, she's such a drama queen.

Bryan: Valentine and Kennedy are still the legal participants here, but it doesn't look like Alex Redding or Amy Campbell really care!

Quinn: I don't either, if that matters. This makes me all kinds of happy.

Yale: It makes her all kinds of happy, JB. All kinds.

Bryan: Kathryn Shaw imploring David Fellows to get Aimz off of Kennedy! Amy turns -- right into Shaw's face!

Pierce: Mrrm.

Quinn: Waaaait a minute...

Bryan: Aimz and Shaw have historically not seen eye to eye, but they've seemed almost friendly this past year. Fellows outside the ring to order Campbell back to their corner! Meanwhile, over here, what's Redding doing? He's choking Vivica J. Valentine with a cable! David! Somebody get Dave Fellows over here!

Quinn: Well, from my vantage point -- and I could be wrong -- it looks like he's trying to get Viv back into the ring so he can score what you've got to admit would be a heck of a win for him. But Vivica must have really packed on the pounds over the holidays, so he needs the cable to drag her.

Bryan: Oh, for -- what the hell has gotten into you?

Quinn: Into me? I'm just saying that fruitcake is pretty fattening and Viv looks a little chunky.

Bryan: You used to be such a sweetheart! Now look at you!

Pierce: Mind your tongue, you--

Bryan: Aimz! Amy's seen enough! Campbell around the ring! Clubbing blow to Alex Redding!

Yale: From behind!

Quinn: Looked like it was from the side to me. I'll allow it.

Bryan: Campbell spins Redding to face her! Kick to the midsection -- and a DDT! DDT on the floor!

Yale: And how was that fair?

Quinn: Maybe it wasn't, but it was AWESOME.

There is much clapping from the Teenaged Terror and even a shrill little whistle, but at least she pulls the microphone away from her lips for that.

Bryan: Aimz rolls Redding into the ring and helps Valentine to her feet! Vivica propped up by the ring apron, and Campbell sprints around the ring to toss in Kennedy, too!

Yale: You think she just isn't sure who's legal?

Bryan: Amy up to the apron, and she grabs the tag rope!

She also bangs her palm against the turnbuckle pad, prompting a "LET'S GO VIV!" chant that spreads like wildfire.

Bryan: David Fellows starts his ten count!

"ONE!!"
"LET'S GO VIV!"

"TWO!!"
"LET'S GO VIV!"

Quinn: You know, I'd be much more behind this chant if it was, like, "Shut up, Viv!" or "Hey, you're a big dummy, Viv!"

Bryan: Valentine stirs! She's crawling! She's crawling to make the tag to Aimz!

Yale: Not so fast!

Bryan: Kennedy grabs the ankle! Kennedy grabs--ENZUGIRI! Viv with the enzugiri! Redding tries to block her-- Repentance!

Pierce: Typically self-serving names.

Bryan: Redding down! And the tag!

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

Bryan: Tag to Aimz! A left hand for Kennedy! And a forearm to the jaw! Phil driven back into the ropes! Irish whip--reversed! Flying forearm! Campbell with the flying firearm! Amy kips back up!

Quinn: [gasp]

Yale: Amy back down!

Bryan: Redding! The Grady Special II! That's his move! Amy got planted! Redding quickly out to the apron! Kennedy rolls over and--tag! Tag to the US Champ! Redding dives atop the Red Raver!




ONE!!!!!!!!!











TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!








THREEEEE--

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Bryan: No! Valentine! Vivica J. Valentine out of nowhere to break up the three! Where does she get the energy?

Quinn: Dope, JB. Lots and lots of dope.

Bryan: Valentine rolls limply out of the ring! Redding up quickly! He's going for the Stereotype! Annnnd... he's got it! Alexander Redding has Amy Campbell in that devastating Sharpshooter-like hold?

Quinn: Come on, Aim! You can do it!

Bryan: Campbell clawing! She's desperately trying to reach the ropes!

Quinn: You're so close! Just a little more!

Bryan: How can you root for only half of a tag team?

Quinn: Uh, because it's the awesome half?

Bryan: She's got it! Aimz has the bottom rope! David Fellows forces Redding to release the hold!

Yale: Redding can't believe it!

Quinn: I believe it!

Bryan: Redding stoops to pick up Amy! But oh! Aimz! Right hand! Another right hand! Campbell slips in a couple of hard shots, and Redding is rocked! Redding--

Yale: MEH, SHADDUP.

Bryan: Redding with the Pepsi Twist, halting Campbell's comeback in its tracks! And he tags in Kennedy! Redding hoists up Campbell again! He slides her into the tombstone position! Kennedy off the ropes and -- SPIKED! Kennedy with the assist on the spiked tombstone!

Quinn: I... jeez. I've gotta make sure she's okay.

A headset drops on the desk.

Pierce: Quinn...

But she's gone.

Bryan: Amy's not moving! Kennedy with the lateral press! He's been looking to put Aimz' shoulders down for such a long time!




ONE!!










TWO!!!










THRE--


Yale: Wait a damn--

Bryan: Quinn! Quinn put Amy's foot on the ropes! Grady Patrick is livid! He grabs the girl by the shoulder--oh! Quinn with a painful-looking wristlock!

Pierce: Did you really think that my daughter wouldn't be able to defend herself?

Bryan: Kennedy pulls Aimz up! On the floor, SHAW! KITTEN KICK ON GRADY PATRICK!

Yale: But they're supposed to be on the same side!

Bryan: Kennedy with a gutwrench suplex! Quinn lets go--Grady stumbles into Ashe! RYDEEN BOMB ON THE FLOOR! Good night, Grady!

Yale: Lord, I think the message here is, "Do Not Touch Quinn Gregory."

Bryan: Kennedy kicks his legs and rolls back to his feet! Another gutwrench!

Yale: He usually does three: the Flop, the Turn, and the River!

Bryan: He rolls up again and -- Aimz! Aimz wriggles free! Amy lands on her feet and she falls backwards--tag to Vivica J. Valentine! Valentine slings over the top into a dropkick on Kennedy! And a sole butt! And a kneelift! Valentine back to check on Aimz!

Yale: No, dammit, you focus on the match!

Bryan: Campbell up and--double Repentance! Step-up enzuigiris to both sides of Phillip Kennedy's head! Viv with the cover!



ONE!!!






TWO!!







THREE--


Yale: Alexander Redding is Canadian Superman!

Bryan: Redding FLIES across the ring to break up the pin! Amy back in now! She tosses Redding to the floor! Pescado--no! Redding out of the way! But Aimz lands on her feet!

Yale: Get out of there, Alex! She's freaking crazy--

Pierce: Ahem.

Yale: ...crazy good, I was going to say. Because that's my new thing. To say. Hey, Alex! I didn't realize you were still out here!

Bryan: Redding bolts! In the ring, Viv calls for the Greyout! And--what's Quinn doing on the apron? Valentine doesn't see her!

Let's pretend there's some kind of shout for the Fearless Phenom's tilt-a-whirl guillotine. Viv bounds off the ropes, inadvertently knocking the Devil's Daughter off the apron. To her credit, Viv stops in her tracks and looks back, but it's not like that's going to matter to the Spider.

Bryan: Quinn fell out here, and this time, there's no question about what caused it! Alex Pierce is out of here to check on her daughter's condition!

Yale: Vivica intentionally knocked a seventeen-year-old girl off the apron.

Bryan: I don't think it was on purpose.

Yale: Of course it was! Shameful.

Bryan: I don't -- Amy! Amy caught Redding! He swings a right hand, Campbell ducks! Inverted facelock--FREETEKNO! Freetekno on the floor! In the ring, Viv's attention is on the teen at ringside! But Kennedy is up! He's got Valentine in his sights!

It's Amy's shout that attracts Valentine's attention, her warning that saves the day.

Bryan: Kennedy with the Nuts! Ducked by Valentine! She grabs the arm, runs the turnbuckle and--BANG! BANG! THE END OF HEARTACHE! Valentine with a spectacular, scintillating tornado flip-piledriver!

Yale: ...I think Phil's dead.

Bryan: If he's not, he might be soon! Vivica with a glance down to make sure Quinn's okay, and the girl has rolled onto her side, so Valentine climbs up to the top! Aimz on the other side, glances down to the fallen Redding on the floor! They both leap! The Dead Aim to Redding! The Second City Air Raid for Phillip Kennedy!

Vivica J. Valentine stares at Desade at ringside as she makes the cover. She doesn't hook a leg, but let's be honest, you could count to fifty.


ONE!!!!







TWO!!!







THREE!!!!


[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners! The team of AIMZ! And VIVIIIIIIICAAAA JAAAAAY VALLLLLENTIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!!

There's no music, but that's because the sound guys are smart enough to know this thing is still a powder keg.

Bryan: Alex slithers into the ring! She's going to take another shot at Viv, this time face-to-face!

Yale: Righteous vengeance for the cowardly assault on her daughter!

Bryan: Oh, come on! It was an accident and we all know it! Besides, it's not like Quinn had any business being on the apron to begin with! Alex waves Vivica on, daring her to go for it!

This time, Amy is a heck of a lot closer than she was back in Vegas.

Bryan: Aimz steps in to separate them! But Viv! Look at Viv! She told Campbell she wouldn't fight Alex, and she's trying to keep that promise.

You don't have to be much of a lipreader to tell that Vivica is repeating, "I'm not gonna fight you" over and over. (If you are an expert lipreader, we apologize for the salty language.)

Yale: She's backing down!

Bryan: She's keeping her word! Valentine is leaving the ring! Alex goes to follow, and Amy stays between them!

Yale: What's going on over there?

Bryan: That's... that's Brad Jackson! Jackson coming through the crowd, and he's got Timothy Vale with him!

Yale: He's also got the American Dream! But... but Redding's still down after that Freetekno and Dead Aim! And Jackson just won that briefcase last week! Can he do this?

Bryan: He is doing it! Jackson hands the briefcase to Vale! Vale calls for the bell!

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Bryan: This is gonna happen while Aimz struggles to keep apart her friend and her lover! Jackson pitches Redding's carcass into the ring! He follows after and yanks Alex up!

Yale: Where's... where's Grady to protest this injustice?

Bryan: Ashe power bombed him into next week! Jackson--SOMETHING WICKED! Alex Redding just got spiked!

Yale: Part of me says this is unfair, and part of me says that this is awesome.

Bryan: Jackson with the cover!

Up on the ramp, Vivica Valentine has finally stepped back through the curtain.



ONE!!




TWO!!




Bryan: Aimz just realized what happened! She darts down the ramp!



THREE!!


Yale: Too late!

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]


Andrews: Here is your winner and NNNNNEWWWWW GCW UNITED STAAAAAATES CHAMPION! BRAAAAAAAAAD!! JAAAAAAAACKSON!!

Aimz slides into the ring, but Jackson slithers back out to the floor to be handed his shiny new gold trinket.

Bryan: You had to think that Amy Campbell was in line for another shot at that title -- she has two disqualification wins in title matches and now three separate wins over Redding or teams including Redding.

Yale: But what she did NOT have was the American Dream! Brad Jackson did, and that's why we have a new champ!

Bryan: What a turn of events here at the Winter Classic, fans, and we still have the Vanguard-Hardcore-Television title unification match to come! Don't you dare go anywhere! Wow!

Back to Top






"When the truth is found..
To be lies...
And all the joy within you dies...

Don't you want somebody to love?
Don't you need somebody to love?
Wouldn't you love somebody to love?
You better find somebody to love..."


There isn't really much of a reaction from the crowd as "Somebody to Love," by Jefferson Airplane begins to play. There doesn't seem to be any entrance video accompaniment either and so the GCW logo is all that appears on the video screens. There is some booing from a smattering of older fans in the audience.

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the former owner of the Atlantic Wrestling Club and executive manager of the Atlantic Wrestling Club, Dr. Kasidy Drake!

The booing gets a bit louder in the arena once the name is heard. A frail and pale man with shoulder-length gray hair hobbles out to the arena. Although he has the appearance and air of a much older man, something in his eyes gives away that he is much younger than he appears. Some external force or circumstances have stolen the youth from his face and he looks as though at any moment he could collapse as he slowly makes his way down the aisle. There is still a minority of people booing him but most don't seem to react at all having no clue who this man is. The air of indifference is unmistakeable.

Bryan: What is this? Now I'm sure Andrews must have his notes screwed up. The owner of AWC wasn't... what's his name again?

Yale: I haven't really heard of him either, but apparently he's about to address the Worldwide audience, they've just handed him a microphone...

Bryan: Did you know anything about this?

Yale: No, not a clue.

By now Drake has entered the ring and is indeed holding a microphone. His black suit looks expensive, but old. The music stops playing and Drake raises the microphone to speak. The fans, however, have decided to ride the booing bandwagon and the sound becomes so loud that Drake cannot hope to be heard. He takes a moment to let the crowd get it out of their system and nods knowingly.

Yale: Whoever he is, the fans certainly don't like him.

Bryan: Well, what are they booing him for Yale?

Drake continues to wait in the ring under the booing subsides a little although sparse derogatory exclamations and chants are still present in the crowd.

Drake: I know that a lot of you are just booing me right now because some other people started to jeer me first. Unfair as it is for you to judge me like that before I have the chance to say anything makes me extremely angry and disappointed in the fans here in Colorado...

Drake is forced to break off his words for a moment as the crowd boos again at the apparent shot at their hometown. Drake rolls his eyes.

Drake: Fact is... I probably deserve every bit of it. And I appreciate the nice introduction by your fabulous ring announcer, but the only true owner of that once-great company is, and will forever be David Harber, a man who I owe more than a million apologies to. Yeah, at one point my company owned a large stake in AWC, and yes, during that period of time, I did almost everything imaginable to drive that product into the ground. And I succeeded.

The crowd boos again even though there aren't many who understand what Drake is talking about. It just sounds bad.

Drake: I did a lot of bad things while I was involved in the professional wrestling business. Not just while I was wearing a suit, but when I was an active competitor in the ring. For better or worse, the things that I did when I was still lacing up my boots brought me a lot of success in a short period in time. There was a point where everyone was patting me on the back, telling me that I was the next big thing. You know, never mind that I was destroying my body with drugs to do it, but I was suddenly in the main event after weeks. They knew that I was on some sort of performance enhancing drugs, but for a short while, my name put asses in seats and destroyed bodies in the ring. I retired Durian David Orthane! Me!

The booing continues. This guy gloating is not going over well with the fans. A classic "asshole" chant starts out and Drake stays silent for a moment fuming at the crowd. Strangely enough, no color seems to be able to come to his chalky white skin in spite of his rage. He looks as though he's fighting with himself to remain calm. The arena gets a bit quieter and Drake goes on.

Drake: I was in the main event once upon a time. I was on the billboards. I was kicking ass in the Global Title Tournament. I made a lot of money and gained a lot of reasons to gloat and tell you fans out there how much better I am than you all. How I was better than Jason Hughes, how I was better than David Orthane and how angry it makes me that you people don't give me a little more respect and remember me for what I put my body through to bring you entertaining television. So in that respect, screw you idiots-- half of you don't even know who I am or what the hell I'm talking about. It's taken me a long time to get to the point where I can accept people judging me where I deserve to be judged, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be judged by some snot-nose teenagers who don't know what the hell this sport used to be.

The crowd's boos are now simply cacophonous. There is a fire in his eyes, however, that cannot keep Kadisy Drake silent and he opens his mouth again looking read to continue his tirade, but he stops at the last moment. His eyes lower and he seems to be negotiating with himself.

Bryan: I wish I knew what was going on. Drake insulting the fans here. Sounds like he's talking about things that happened years ago.

Yale: Or maybe he's just not that relevant.

Drake continues to speak, but more calmly.

Drake: But you know what, I'm trying to put that bitterness and that anger behind me. It's easy to get caught up in the past. To tell the truth, I cling to it. I watch my old tapes from Core and Global over and over again in a small desolate apartment, alone and forgotten. And I deserve it. Karma's a bitch and I deserve every bit of what I got in the end. For those who actually remember me and what happened in AWC, I'm sorry. I really am. But most of the fans from then are gone, and most of the wrestlers are too. Every promotion I ever wrestled for is gone. PTC is gone... amazing this future we live in.

Random Fan: Get to the point!

Drake narrows his eyes and glares in the genera direction of the voice bitterly as there is a decent-volume chuckle in the crowd. Drake looks down at the ground looking embarrassed. A million and one thoughts seem to be swimming in his eyes.

Drake: I begged for months to get this opportunity to come on TV for a few minutes and speak my piece. AWC was eventually bought out by GCW, so I guess by association this is the closest I can get to an audience that might remember me. Maybe it's wrong of me to ruin your day and try to gain sympathy from this, the only world that ever loved me back, but a man in my position... screw it, hell yes I want sympathy. I don't want to be alone and um... I know most you don't know me but um, I'm actually very sick and I just have a few months left to live. I just wanted somebody to know. Um. Thank you for your time.

The crowd is stunned and silent as Drake abruptly drops the microphone and exits the ring. The audio techs scramble to play his theme music again as he briskly walks back up the aisle, his head to the ground. There are confused murmurs in the crowd but for the most part, no one really knows what to say for a moment. Another camera is able to capture an image of Drake as he comes back through the curtain with a glazed-over look in his eyes. A few wrestlers abruptly end their conversation as Drake comes into view. Undoubtedly they were trading rumors and hearsay about what they'd just seen on the backstage monitor.

A female interviewer comes into the frame and Drake tries to move past her as if he hadn't seen her, but the reporter will not budge.

Interviewer: Dr. Dre-

Drake: It's Drake ma'am. Dr. Kasidy Drake. Dr. Dre is black.

Interviewer: Indeed. Dr. Drake, do you care to elaborate on what you just said? And for ...er... those of us who don't know, can we get a bit more information on just who you are exactly?

The skin on Drake's already-pallid skin somehow manages to go even whiter and his eyes narrow. The words are like knives through his chest. He raises his palm to his face and begins rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb and index finger as though trying to regain his composure.

Interviewer: Dr. Drake...?

Drake: So this is how it is?

Interviewer: Sir?

Drake puts his hands back down to his face but as he does, a frighteningly furious expression is revealed upon his face.

Drake: You know lady, eight years ago, I got into the wrestling business doing your job. Yeah, I was an interviewer for Core Wrestling. And do you know what it was that motivated me to get back into the ring? The fact that all of the boys in the back and all those fat and sloppy humanoids sitting on their couches watching this right now didn't respect me. Didn't know who I was. Didn't care. I used to get picked on by people who thought that thought I was not worth remembering and it went on and on until I snapped, put on a mask, and started accumulating bodies and three counts in that very ring.

A few people in the crowd cheer at the fierce nature of Drake's words.

Drake: Eight years ago, when I was pinning Jason Hughes sorry ass to the mat, and even a few years later in Global when I put that equally-sorry ass Durian David Orthane into RETIREMENT... back then they kept telling me that I was the future. Kept telling me that if I just kept doing what I was doing-- and that's win-- that I'd be the next World Champion. That I'd be the next Global Title Tournament winner. That I was the next big thing. That I was special.

Drake begins breathing heavily as the expression of fury on his face melts slightly into one of disdain and sorrow. The reporter still seems slightly unnerved by this man who is clearly without balance.

Drake: Now, I go back out there to the fans who cheered me and spent money on my merchandise and dressed their kids up in Smiley masks-- do they remember me? No. I wake up lady, and I'm in pain every day because of the crazy nonsense I used to do in that squared-circle to get a pop from the fans and a chance. My life is ruined, me wife is dead, an entire wrestling company owned by the man who was my only friend is gone... I thought that I could at least come back to a place like this and someone would give a damn if I told them. People loved me back then, why wouldn't I feel obligated to let them know that I was going pass away...

Interviewer: Sir, I still don't understand anything you're talking about. You're going to have to give specifics-- even if you did wrestle when you claim (Drake: ...when I "claim"?) you did, with all due respect sir...

The interviewer looks as though she's suddenly frightened by what she was about to say next. Drake rounds on her and stares at her intently with those cold gray eyes...

Drake: "With all due respect" what? Go on, I'm listening.

Interviewer: ...with all due respect, there are a lot of wrestlers who come and go in this business. Maybe people knew you back then, but if you never won a major title as you're implying and your career has already ended in less than a decade, how can you expect people to remember you?

Looking alarmed at what Drake will do next, the tiny interviewer moves the microphone to Kasidy, hands trembling. Drake gets that far-away look in his eyes again. It isn't anger or sadness or joy but a totally blank expression. His eyes are lost in a void somewhere distant...

Interviewer: ...s-sir?

Drake continues not to respond for a few more moments before he suddenly snaps back to reality. He looks startled as though he's just been rudely awakened from a wonderful dream.

Drake: I guess I'll have to find a way to make them remember. Thanks for the chat kid.

And without another word, Drake walks out of the frame as the interviewer looks on, totally dumbfounded.

Back to Top


Ayake Sonoda is walking down the corridor near the locker rooms with the camera crew. She is walking and talking to the camera. Her eyes focused and straight forward as she speaks.

Ayake: Hoping this evening we can get an interview with Vivica and perhaps Aims for the internet web show.

She turns and walks straight into someone who towers over her as the camera pans up showing a very angry face of Shaman looking down at her, She slowly backs up as she holds her hands in front of her.

Ayake: Eh....uhm Excuse me Shaman, would you like to do an interview for the web show?

Shaman stops and looks at her, his eyes focus on her.

Shaman: Sure why not, You want to be entertained by my misery and anger, my depression, hell why not even jump on in and help GCW corporate and fellow workers have a laugh.

Ayake: Uhm not what i wanted to do.

Reaching out he grabs the mic pulling Ayake forward at the same time.

Shaman: Oh no don't stand so far away, you wanted this interview now get in here and do it.

Ayake turns her head as Shaman moves his face in close to hers his eyes staring bullet holes through the side of her head. She shakes in fear as he waits annoyingly.

Ayake: Why..why did you choose to comeback now?

Shaman smiles sadistically staring at Ayake as he responds.

Shaman: I'll tell you what, You can shut the hell up. Keep your cute little Japanese mouth shut while I tell you why.

He turns and points his hand to the locker room areas.

Shaman: People who are supposed to be friends, allies, or what the hell ever they are supposed to be. Turn their backs on you in the locker rooms. Guys that would throw their own damn mothers under a damn bus.

He stops reaches out and gently turns her chin so he is face to face with her.

Shaman: I made a point this evening. Open your eyes GCW there is someone who is against the system completely and I am going to knock the ever loving shit out of anyone and everyone who gets in my way one way or another.

He points to his own face as he looks at Ayake.

Shaman: Does this look like a face who cares anymore? Does it look like a face anyone should trust?

Ayake: Nuh..No...!?

Shaman: Answer me...does it?

Ayake: Eh uh!?!

Shaman: Do it, Do it!!

Ayake: AHHHHHHHHH!!

Screaming Shaman releases her as he turns and walks away smirking.

Shaman: Now you have an idea of what comes next, Oh wait you haven't a clue do you. See you next week.

As Shaman walks away Ayake breaks down crying as the fear has finally aggressively reached her. The camera man focuses on her distraught face. Then he turns and focuses on Shaman who is walking away.

Back to Top


The Television Title fills the screen and slowly grows smaller as the shot pans out to reveal the belt around the waist of Aaron Fujita. Fujita stands in front of the GCW logo backdrop and is dressed for competition. His eyes lock onto the camera and his mouth begins moving with his speech.

Fujita: You know I’ve been relatively quiet since I won this belt, but tonight it’s time for me to really show the world what I’m all about. I used to think that I had made a mistake by not grabbing the United States Title when I went up that ladder. After Rampage I sat down and thought about a lot of things.

Aaron reaches behind his body and unsnaps the belt. The championship drops from his waist and into his hands. He brings it up to a position resting on his shoulder and runs his hand through his hair before speaking again.

Fujita: Everybody would think that it would be great to be amongst the top level of GCW talent. Mingling with guys like Triumph Frost or Terrence Kingsley sounds like a fantastic time but I’d much rather separate myself. You see it’s not because of the competition; I believe that I could compete with anyone in the business. But when you take a step back and look at GCW’s top guys, they are all just the same. Alexander Redding, Vivica Valentine and Johnny Borealis all break down to the same type of wrestlers.

Fujita turns his head to glance at the title belt sitting on his shoulder. He pats it with his free hand then looks back at the camera.

Fujita: I’m here to set myself apart from everyone else. I want to break away from the pack and be my own man. What I’m doing as the Television Champion is providing an alternative to the same old stuff that gets broadcast in the main event’s every week. I am THE alternative and that’s something I pride myself on. I am GCW’s Alternative Champion. Tonight will be no different as I head into a unification match for the Television and Hardcore Titles. Theo Palmer and Brad Cruz are going to bring it tonight, but Aaron Fujita is going to bring it just a bit more. Tonight is the night I walk out of here a double champion and prove to everyone that I am who I say I am; one of the best wrestlers inside that ring. Tonight I urge you to tune into our triple threat match and see the Alternative that GCW has to offer.

With that Aaron smiles and walks off screen leaving the camera to slowly zoom in on one of the GCW logos and fade to black.

Back to Top

The camera swaths across Sports Authority Field at Mile High Stadium, before stopping on the bundled-up James Bryan and David Yale in the announcers box overlooking the stadium.

Bryan: Folks, I hope you enjoyed tonight, because we’ve got a doozy of a main event for you.

Yale: You better believe it. Three men enter, two of them champs, but only one will leave with gold.

Bryan: As per the higher ups, the Television and Hardcore title are being unified and, albeit for a short time, one person will leave here as the first double champion since Triumph Frost.

Yale: We thought that woulda been the case between Johnny Borealis and Karina Wolfenden, but we all know how that turned out. Instead, we get three guys that are gonna scratch and claw their way to infamy, and frankly, I could not be more excited.

With that, the bumping sounds of "Sexy and I Know It" by LMFAO pump out, as out walks Theo Palmer, shiny bald head and all.

Andrews: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a unification of the Television and Hardcore championships! Introducing first, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Weighing in at 240 pounds….THEEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOH….PAAAAAAAAALLLL-MERRRRRRRRRR!!!!

Bryan: And here comes the man that got a shot at the Television title at Rampage, to the surprise of us all.

Yale: Well, he’s not just getting a shot at TV gold, he’s getting a shot at Vanguard gold, too.

Bryan: It’s the Hardcore title, Dave.

Palmer suddenly hurries to the ring and jumps in, grabbing Andrews by his Brooks Bros.’ jacket collar and pulling him aside. Palmer whispers into Andrews’ ear, and Andrews nods.

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen…SEXXXXXXXXXX-TONNNNNNNNN….HARRRRRRRDDDDDD-ONNNNNNNNN!!!!

Yale: And finally, he gets his name right.

Bryan: Well, it seems that’s all squared up, and no longer is it Theo Palmer, but Sexton Hardon.

Yale: That’s my kinda name!

After that exchange, Hardon looks as focused as ever, and it’s likely he regrets wearing tights in the cold-ass Denver night air. "I’m Not Jesus" by Apocalyptica starts up, as out walks "The SoCal Prophet" Brad Cruz, title slung over his shoulder.

Andrews: And his opponent. From Hollywood, California. Weighing in at 227 pounds. He is the current GCW Hardcore Champion….."THE SOOOO-CALLLLL PROO-PHETTT"….BRAAAAAAAAAAAD….CRUUUUUUUUUUUUUZZZZ!!!!

Bryan: Brad Cruz has been Hardcore champion since Rampage, but this is his first actual defense of the belt. Tonight could very well be his first and last defense.

Yale: Hey, what’ll we be calling the new title? The TeleVanCore title? Or maybe the CoreVisionGuard title?

Bryan: Dave.

Cruz slaps the hands of a couple of fans on his way to the ring. He slides underneath the ropes and gives Hardon a quick once over, before climbing the ropes and proudly displaying his belt.

Yale: How about the HardCVDTV…no, too dirty.

Bryan: Dave!

Yale: What about the HDTVC title? Or maybe the VTCD…no, wait. The CDVHVT--

Bryan: DAVE!!

Yale: What?

Bryan: Let’s just stick with the Unified Television and Hardcore title for now, okay?

Yale: Gotcha.

"Breathe Into Me" by RED starts up, and out walks Aaron Fujita, the HDTV title around his waist, cautiously staring at his two opponents in the ring.

Andrews: And their opponent. From Plainfield, Illinois. Weighing in at 225 pounds. He is the current GCW Television Champion……"THE ATMOSPHERIC PHENOMENON"…..AAAAAAAA-RONNNNNNN….FUUUUUU-JIIIIII-TAAAAA!!!!

Bryan: Cruz hasn’t defended his title, but neither has Fujita, either.

Yale: Fujita was a part of the Rampage semi-finals, though, so he’s certainly no slouch.

Fujita takes his time getting to the ring, his eyes never wavering from either Cruz or Hardon. When he ascends the steps and climbs through the ropes, he pulls off the belt and hands it to ref Josh Briggs almost just as fast.

Bryan: Well, how amazing would it be if both defending champs walked into this match with their titles on the line, only to both leave empty handed?

Yale: I don’t think either Fujita or Cruz would find that amazing at all. More like devastated.

Briggs displays both belts in the air, as all three get those butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling. When Briggs calls for the bell…

Bryan: It’s an all-out brawl!

Sure enough, all three attack one another with abandon, trading punches like it ain’t no thang.

Bryan: They’re going at each other like rabid dogs!

Yale: After tonight, there’ll only be three championships left in GCW, and one of these guys’ll be walking out with one of them.

When Cruz shows the first signs of the barrage taking its toll, Hardon shoulderblocks into him, sending the SoCal Prophet tumbling through the ropes. The opening that Fujita has is wider than Shane’s mouth, and he uses it to his advantage with an inverted DDT on Hardon.

Bryan: Fujita’s going for the quick cover…

Briggs leaps down and counts.

ONE…

TWO…

Bryan: Hardon kicks out!

Before Fujita even gets a chance to complain about a slow count, he gets crushed in the chest by both of Cruz’s feet, courtesy of a springboard dropkick from the apron.

Bryan: Now Cruz is going for the cover!

Briggs doesn’t have to go far, slapping the mat once more.

ONE…

TWO…

Bryan: And Hardon breaks up the count!

Hardon and Cruz both get to their feet quickly, but it’s Hardon whose winding up for the haymaker.

Bryan: Again, Theo Palm…err, Sexton Hardon wants to just put this one away as fast as possible!

Hardon’s punch comes about, a lumbering and powerful swing, only…

Bryan: Here it comes!

Yale: No! Cruz ducked it!

The momentum of the swing sends Hardon swinging around in a full circle. When he comes back to his original spot, the interlude is all the time that Cruz needs to back up, square up, and try to belt Hardon’s head off with a superkick.

Bryan: What a kick! And another cover!

Yale: C’mon, guys! You’re supposed to hit your finishing moves before you go for the pin! Haven’t video games taught you anything?

Briggs jumps down for the count, but before he can even hit one, Fujita grabs Cruz by his short blonde locks and rips him off of Hardon.

Bryan: The Television champion pulls the Hardcore champion away from a shot at victory…

Cruz elbows Fujita in the chest to break free, and goes head-full-of-steam towards the ropes. Coming back at a slightly dazed Fujita, he jumps up and goes for a corkscrew hurancanrana of sorts. Unfortunately, his fancy-schmancy twisting-about is for naught, as Fujita never lets him finish, instead turning it into a spinning backbreaker, one that takes all the wind out of Cruz’ sails.

Bryan: Fujita is a rather bright young superstar, so it’s no surprise he had the crafty veteran well scouted.

Yale: Cruz is a high-risk, high-reward guy. Sometimes it pays off. Sometimes he eats a whole lotta canvas.

With the pace finally slowed down, Fujita leans down and grabs Cruz by the hair, pulling his head up ever-so-slightly, elevated enough so he can start punching the holy hell out of the Golden Cruzsader’s face.

Bryan: Fujita’s trying to rearrange the structure of Cruz’s orbital bones right now!

Yale: It’s Sexton Hardon!

Yes, it is indeed Mr. Hardon that rips Fujita off of the Hardcore champion. Fujita takes none-too-kindly to the interruption, and lays Hardon out with a right cross.

Bryan: What a punch! Fujita isn’t known much for his power, but he displayed a whole heckuva lot of it right there!

Yale: He’s more of a technical guy, but desperation makes people do extraordinary things.

Cruz tries to take the opportunity to catch Fujita by surprise, but Fujita scouts well again, ducking Cruz’s jumping kick. When Cruz turns around, the ropes at his back, Fujita lays him out and over with a diving lariat, sending the SoCal Prophet to the outside where he lands awkwardly on his head.

Bryan: What a clothesline!

Yale: Cruz stuck the landing there, and he might want to hope he has a good physical therapist in his call list.

With Cruz taken care of, Fujita turns around and sees Hardon struggling to get to his feet. Fujita helps to deter that process by punching the down-on-one-knee Hardon in the face.

Bryan: Aaron Fujita has been labeled many things in his GCW career. Streaky. Talentless. Unfocused. But tonight, he has come fully prepared to leave with his title, and another one to boot.

Yale: Well, at least he probably has the Weather Channel to fall back on. As long as he shaves off that godawful goatee.

Fujita swings again, but Hardon blocks it. Kicking the TV champ in the stomach, Hardon grabs hold and plants Fujita with a DDT.

Bryan: Palm…Hardon drops Fujita right in the center of the ring, and once again is in control of this match.

Yale. Well, I dunno if Cruz’ll be joining us again anytime soon, so it looks like he’s got it in the bag.

Hardon sits up and looks at the fallen Fujita before wiping the sweat off his brow. He drops and rolls out of the ring, and fishes underneath the apron. He finally emerges with a chair.

Bryan: Oh no. I don’t like where this is going.

Hardon slides into the ring with the chair, but his progress is immediately impeded by Briggs.

Bryan: Briggs won’t allow this to end on a disqualification. Not a match of this magnitude.

Yale: What’s the big deal? The match is for the Hardcore title, is it not?

Bryan: Yeah, but it’s not a hardcore match!

Yale: That just makes no sense to me.

Hardon argues the same logic, maintaining that if the match is for the Hardcore title, there should be hardcore rules in effect. But Briggs isn’t having any of it. When he grasps the chair, a tug-of-war begins between the two.

Bryan: Hardon won’t let go of that chair!

Yale: Well, he shouldn’t have to! Hardcore title, hardcore rules!

The battle isn’t really so much one-sided as it is the Harlem Globetrotters against the Washington Generals, so it should be no surprise that Briggs finds himself on his ass only moments into the struggle. With the chair firmly in hand, however, Hardon makes two mistakes. The first is that he still holds the chair with both hands in front of him from the tug-of-war. The second is a byproduct of the first, in that the blocked view prevents Hardon from seeing in front of his face. Ergo…

Bryan: CRUZ!!!

Sure enough, Cruz comes flying off the ropes, smashing the folded steel chair square into Sexton’s mug with a top-rope Golden Calf Kick. The thud carries in the air, while Cruz’s leg manages to get caught up in between the chair.

Bryan: Brad Cruz came outta nowhere, and Sexton Hardon is out cold!

Yale: Everyone’s down right now! Everyone’s got a fresh slate to win.

The man who’s sustained the least amount of damage, Aaron Fujita, is up first, and he’s the first to be surprised at seeing Cruz clutching at his leg and Hardon only just starting to show signs of life.

Bryan: And it’s Fujita up first! Fujita has the best chance he’s had all night to steal this one!

Fujita does just that, jumping onto Cruz and hooking the leg.

ONE…

TWO…

THR--KICKOUT!!!

Bryan: Cruz kicked out! Cruz kicked out!

Yale: He shoulda gone with Sexton Hardon first! What a maroon!

So Fujita does that, albeit second. He hooks the leg again.

ONE…

TWO…

Bryan: And Hardon kicked out!

Fujita, beside himself, gets up, picks up Cruz, and tosses him out of the ring.

Bryan: Fujita can feel this match slipping through his fingers. He needs to figure something out, and fast!

With Hardon still struggling to get to his feet, Fujita spots the corner, and an idea pops into his head.

Bryan: Where’s Fujita going? Is he…?

Yale: He’s climbing up top, JB! What’s this guy thinking?

Bryan: I haven’t the slightest clue.

Fujita has a bit of trouble steadying himself at first, but manages to make himself upright.

Yale: Matches like this are won on the mat! They’re won through submissions, or using moves like the QG Theory! Not by jumping through the air like a damned fool!

Bryan: Well, Fujita’s pulling out all the stops. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more determined Aaron Fujita since he debuted just a few years ago.

With Hardon upright and groggy, Fujita’s eyes focus on the prize.

Bryan: And here he goes! Up top!

Fujita comes flying off the top rope, body perpendicular to Hardon, but Hardon catches him mid-air.

Bryan: Fujita’s big-time cross-body backfired, big time!

Cruz, now back into the ring himself, comes rushing from behind at Hardon, but Hardon swings around, using Fujita’s head as a sort of battering ram into Cruz’s stomach. With all the air rushing from Cruz’s body, Hardon swings around again, using Fujita’s legs to knock Cruz clear out of the ring.

Bryan: Hardon’s using Fujita as his own personal weapon!

Yale: Like Fujita can do anything about it! That noggin-knock into Cruz’s gut clear put him to bed!

Sure enough, Fujita is dazed and confused, but Hardon does what he does, and swings Fujita up, hoisting him onto his shoulders. A quick spin, and everyone knows what comes next…

Bryan: THE DIRTY DANGLE!

Fujita’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and Hardon doesn’t waste a second, hooking the leg. Briggs jumps down to count.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!!!

The bell rings, the crowd screams, "Sexy and I Know It" pumps out, and Briggs hands Sexton Hardon both the Television and Hardcore belts.

Andrews: Your winner…and the NEW GCW Unified Television and Hardcore champion…..SEXXXXXXXXX-TONNNNNNN……HARRRRRRRRRRRDDDDDD-ONNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!

Yale: A new name, a new champion, baby!

Bryan: Hardon pulled through to become the first ever Unified Hardcore and Television champ in GCW history in one of the most hard-fought battles in recent memory.

From the back, suddenly out rushes Alexander Redding with Grady Patrick not far behind. Redding slides underneath the ropes and the two embrace, as Redding holds up Hardon’s arm to the cheers of the crowd.

Bryan: And here’s Red to congratulate the man formerly known as Ted!

Redding rushes over to scream for some beers. When he’s obliged and tossed a can of Bud Lite, he throws it back with disgust.

Bryan: What’s that all about?

Grady obliges their thirst, though, sliding in a twelve-pack of Labatt Blue. Redding grabs two bottles and cracks them open, handing one off to Hardon.

Yale: Goddamned Canadians, JB. Goddamned Canadians.

Bryan: Well, that’s all for tonight, folks. For my colleague David Yale, this is James Bryan saying…only one show to Dangerous Games!

As the duo once known as Red and Ted toast their bottles and admire the newly-won titles…

We fade to black.

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Results compiled and archived with Backstage V2.