Dangerous Games 2012

Scottrade Center | St. Louis, Missouri | March 17 2012

...They look into the eyes of the man or woman who went through the entire roster to take the prize they worked so hard for. 25 Men and Women will face off in the ring to crown the next #1 Contender for the GCW World Heavyweight Championship. Will this be Desade's crowning moment, taking the spot she's so desperately desires? Will Vivica J. Valentine climb up from the depths of hell to prove once again that she's bulletproof? Will a current champion show that their golden aspirations do not stop at their own accomplishments? Or will someone completely unexpected walk out and show that championships aren't won.

They're earned.


"Face To The Floor" by Chevelle plays over the Scottrade Center in St. Louis, Missouri and fireworks explode in shades of green, white, and silver on the entrance before shooting some rockets towards the lighting display above the ring, where a pyrotechnic display of awe goes off above the ring. All around the arena the crowd holds up signs showing affection towards their favorite GCW wrestlers.

RASA'S GONNA KILL YOU

Never Trust A Spider

Borealis = NEXT WORLD CHAMP


Bryan: Here we are, LIVE from St. Louis, Missouri! As always I am James Bryan here with my partner-in-crime David Yale to bring you DANGEROUS GAMES.

Yale: This is my favorite pay-per-view every year and you know what makes it even better this year?

Bryan: What's that?

Yale: World Champion Triumph Frost. Could you imagine the possibilities? Triumph Frost vs. Desade. Triumph Frost vs. Brad Jackson. Triumph Frost vs. Rasa.

Bryan: He has to get through Johnny Borealis here tonight, first!

Yale: Shouldn't be a problem.

Bryan: Speaking of problems... Desade and Vivica J. Valentine have problems and they're going to settle them here tonight! Former friends collide with Aimz stuck in the middle, you think she's going to be impartial?

Yale: Blood is thicker than water.

Bryan: She's not related to either of them.

Yale: Sex is thicker than blood.

Bryan: Here we go...

Yale: Hot.

Bryan: Anyway... Aimz has her hands full enough with United States Champion Brad Jackson, who is slightly larger than Alexander Redding, which is who she was expecting to face for that title. Her job certainly got that much harder.

Yale: Redding has his chance to get it back though in the American Dream ladder match against Dynasty, Phillip Kennedy, and Kasidy Drake. He's my favorite to win there.

Bryan: Everyone's favorite match of the year, the Dangerous Games battle royal! The entire roster has a chance to be the next World Champion, and there are always a few surprises, want to try and guess one now?

Yale: No.

Bryan: Alright, Television Championship match between Sexton Hardon and Brad Cruz should be coming up shortly but first... THIS!

Back to Top


Bryan: But before we get to any of that, we want to take you back to earlier today. Our cameras were outside here at the Scottrade Center for the arrival of Alexandra Pierce, and Sally Ford -- well, Sally tried to ask them some questions pertaining to Pierce's monumental grudge match with Vivica J. Valentine tonight. You're not gonna believe what happened.

Yale: I bet they will. It's not like she sprouted wings and flew away, right? They'll believe it.

Bryan: Will you--

JB sighs.

Bryan: Just roll the footage.

Backstage -- outside, actually.

If you can't figure out that this is earlier by the fact that it's light outside (or that JB, y'know, said so), the box in the lower left reiterates it for you.

We start with Ms. Ford herself, looking rather fetching in a carnation pink dress with a tweed jacket thrown overtop to ward off the chill. She's chatting amiably with her cameraman.

Ford: -- telling you, she's always early. She'll be--

Movement off-screen catches Sally's eye, and it sends her racing after.

Ford: There! Come on!

We get a herky-jerky, vertigo-inducing shot as the cameraman gives chase.

Ford: Alex! Alexandra, if I could just--the fans want to know... they deserve to know--

It's about at the word "deserve" that one of the doors of the sedan Ford is shouting at swings open. The passenger one, to be precise.

"'Deserve'?"

That's definitely the Devil's Daughter, Quinn Gregory. Her voice is soft like her mother's, but the words are brasher, cutting in their disbelief. The girl that climbs from the car hardly looks like the gangly, dorky girl who's practically grown up on television these past few years. Sure, skinny jeans and a snarky t-shirt are still the wardrobe of choice (today's tee is a sky blue one that reads "Who Needs Big Tits?" across the front), but they seem a little more snug, and her boots are knee-high and pitch black, their heels giving the impression that her legs go on for miles.

Oh, and she's a blonde now, a sort of sun-kissed yellow like the sun at dawn that does wonders for her complexion.

Yale: Well, holy crap. How come nobody showed this to me earlier?

Gregory's grin is a sly one, and whether she knows it or not, her pause is long enough to let the fans drink in her new look. She even repeats herself for those who might be too lazy to scroll up have lost their place when she appeared.

Quinn: "Deserve"? What about what Mom deserves?

Ford: I just thought--

The girl throws an arm around the taller blonde's shoulders, but it's not at all a friendly gesture.

Quinn: I know, and it's so adorable how you think that's somehow part of your job instead of, well...

She raises an eyebrow at Sally's cleavage area.

Quinn: Those.

The interviewer shrugs the Devil's Daughter's arm off.

Ford: You don't have to be such a--

The driver side door slams, and that's all it takes to shut Sally up.

Quinn: So you're another in a long line of reporters looking to stir things up. Bet your big important question was, "How do you think Amy can be fair?", am I right?

Ford: It... may have been.

Quinn: I think we're at an impasse here, aren't we, Mom?

Alexandra steps around the pair to the trunk of the car, lifting out a pair of matching wheeled suitcases.

Pierce: It might be best if someone else were to conduct this interview, Ms. Ford.

Sally half-turns, her brows coming up.

Ford: No one else wants to interview you. You've pretty much alienated everybody, and that was before your daughter, uhmm...

How do you end a sentence like that?

Ford: We can restart if you--

Before the cameraman is able to tell poor Ms. Ford that he hasn't stopped recording, Pierce's wench of a daughter takes the initiative.

Quinn: Better idea.

She steps in tight against Sally, stomping down hard on the stiletto heel of the woman's pump. It snaps like a twig, and when Ford steps back out of sheer instinct, she loses her balance and pitches over. Quinn bends down, roughly tearing off Sally's tweed jacket. She picks up the mic, tossing her head back to get that sexy messed-up hair look. When she speaks, it's with an almost Marilyn-esque level of breathiness.

Quinn: Sally Ford, fresh off polishing Steven Caldera's knob to keep my job. I'm backstage at GCW Dangerous Games with the best wrestler in the world, Alexandra Pierce. Alex, how are you feeling this evening?

Pierce: I feel good, Sally. Confident. A friend of mine would say, "I like my chances."

Quinn: Well, I think the rest of the mouth-breathing jackals at home want to know -- the key, burning question -- is:

Her smile cocks on her face.

Quinn: Is it true that you have brand new wrestling gear that will be debuted tonight?

Pierce: Ooh, that's a real toughy.

Quinn: Well, I do have a reputation for that kind of tough, hard-hitting questions.

Pierce: And also for big boobs. I might have something cooked up, yes.

Gregory summons a smile, plastic and broad.

Quinn: So your match with Vivica Valentine?

Pierce: I'm going to win it.

Quinn: And Dangerous Games?

Pierce: Eh, I might win that, too. We'll see.

Quinn: And Amy?

Pierce: As ever, I'm sure she'll do the right thing.

The girl turns towards the cameraman, her smile never wavering.

Quinn: There you have it, fellas. The best wrestler in the world has come to St. Louis to beat the shit out of a poser bitch and she'll look fabulous doing it. Back to you.

Gregory drops her microphone at Sally's feet.

Quinn: That's how you conduct a fucking interview.

Her mother waits at the edge of the car, and Quinn stalks that way, snatching up the handle of her suitcase as they continue towards the building. Swing shot down to Sally Ford, whose pride is hurt more than anything.

Cut back to Dave and JB.

Bryan: Sally's fine, fans, but... and I don't want to speak out of turn here, but that girl has become--

Yale: Incredible.

Bryan: Not exactly the word I'd use. I just hope that Vivica Valentine slaps some sense into her mother, and maybe, when -- not if, when -- Quinn interferes on her mother's behalf, that Aimz will stop her. Preferably by slapping the taste out of her mouth.

Yale: She's blond, JB!

Bryan: Okay, that aside, it's time to get to some action here at Dangerous Games, fans!

Back to Top

Bryan: Folks, we are here live in St. Louis at the Scottrade Center for Dangerous Games! Let’s get things started!

With that, "I'm Not Jesus" by Apocalyptica starts up, as "The SoCal Prophet" Brad Cruz emerges onto the intricate Dangerous Games stage.

Andrews: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the GCW Television Championship. Making his way to the ring first, hailing from Hollywood, California and weighing in at 227 lbs. He is "The SoCal Prophet", BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAD CRUUUUUUUUUUZ!

A chorus of boos ring throughout the Scottrade Center as Brad Cruz slowly walks with a cocky swagger towards the ring.

Bryan: This is a huge opportunity for Cruz, who back in January was on the losing end of a unification match involving Aaron Fujita and...

"Sexy And I Know It" erupts throughout the arena, as does the entire crowd in attendance. Sexton Hardon emerges onto the stage, as the crowds reaction gets even louder.

Bryan: That man right there, Sexton Hardon.

Andrews: And his opponent. Hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 240 lbs. He is the current GCW Television Champion. "The Dirty Dangler" himself, SEXTON HAAAAARRRRRRDOOOOOOOOOOONNN!

Yale: This guy is on quite the roll to start his career. Undefeated, unifying Championships, making history every week!

Bryan: He's not undefeated, he had 7 losses alone in 2011.

Yale: Theo Palmer had 7 losses in 2011. Sexton Hardon debuted in 2012, unified the Television and Hardcore Championships, and remains undefeated.

Bryan: Changing your name doesn't change your past.

Yale: Agree to disagree.

Bryan: Well anyway you choose to look at it, he did unify those Championships back in January, and certainly Brad Cruz will be looking for some retribution.

Yale: You have to feel for the guy. Fujita took the fall, and Cruz lost his Hardcore Championship forever, with no chance to ever win it back.

Bryan: A victory tonight would certainly help ease the pain of defeat.

Hardon slides into the ring, wiggle wiggle wiggling for the crowd in attendance. Some woman cheer, some guys shake their heads, most laugh at one of GCW's beloved members. Brad Cruz on the other hand, seems unimpressed, and shows it by decking Hardon with a hard right in the middle of a wiggle.

DING DING DING!

Yale: He was wiggling! No fair!

Bryan: Cruz obviously is still bitter, and not impressed with the current champ.

Hardon falls to the mat, and is met with vicious stomps. Cruz drops down and unleashes a flurry of rights and left, as Hardon does the best he can to cover his face to avoid the current onslaught. After slight maneuvering on the bottom on the attack, Hardon somehow manages to lock in a guillotine choke, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

Yale: Out of nowhere! He's gonna choke Cruz out!

Bryan: Not so fast!

Cruz grabs onto the ropes as quickly as the choke is locked in, prompting referee David Fellows to step in and break the choke. Both men are quick to their feet, Hardon holding his left eye which is starting to swell, Cruz gasping for air, escaping near fate.

The two edge closer to one another in the center of the ring, and lock up in a good old fashioned grapple. After vying for position, Cruz is quick with and arm drag. As quickly as he went down, Hardon is back up, but met with a running clothesline.

Bryan: Solid shot.

Yale: Not the face!

On the mat, Hardon holds his jaw as Cruz leaps onto the middle rope, launching himself back at Hardons body, landing a hard elbow drop to the middle of his sternum. He lay across the winded Hardon, hoping to make quick work of the champ as Fellows drops to the mat.

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KICKOUT!

Bryan: An early close call for the challenger.

Yale: It's gonna take more than that to put Hardon down.

Cruz grabs Hardon by the back of the head, helping him regain a standing position. On his way up, Hardon springs upward, hooking Cruz' leg and launching into a technically sound T-Bone suplex. Cruz makes his way back up quickly, only to have Hardon latch on, spin around and hit a German suplex.

Cruz, not so quick to his feet this time around, struggles slightly to get up, and may have been better off taking his time. Hardon hooks head, followed by one leg, and is quickly flipped over into a Fishermans suplex pin combination.

Bryan: We're being treated to quite the suplex clinic right now.

Yale: And it could very well end this match too.

1
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KICKOUT!

Cruz breaks the pinning attempt as Fellows hand was inches from the three count. Hardon sits up, a slight smile to his face, knowing a win will take much more.

Bryan: Cruz is in it to win it tonight.

Yale: Isn't everybody in it to win it? I mean, if your not, why would you be a wrestler?

Bryan: You know what I mean.

Yale: I certainly do not.

Hardon reaches down, and begins to bring Cruz to his feet. Cruz drops to his knee, seemingly struggling to regain composure. As Hardon bends down further to use more force in helping his opponent up, Cruz launches upward with both knees into Hardons face, grabbing onto the back of his head, and falling back towards the mat.

Bryan: SOCAL CRUSH! One of Cruz trademark moves!

Yale: Again with the face! Why?

Hardon springs backwards, hitting the mat hard. Cruz makes his way to the corner of the ring, slouching down. Eyeing up Hardon as he slowly makes an ascent in the middle of the ring. Hardon turns around facing Cruz, while stumbling down to one knee. Cruz takes this opening running full tilt and launches himself towards Hardon.

Bryan: Shinning Wizard!

Yale: Seriously, do all Cruz' moves include assaulting the face?

Hardon lay motionless in the middle of the ring, as the crowd boos Cruz. Through the middle ropes, and towards the turnbuckle, Cruz slowly makes his way to the top rope, perching himself firmly on top. He seems a little aggravated as Hardon is no longer motionless, and starting to get up yet again.

Bryan: It looks as if Cruz was going to attempt the Longinus Splash.

Yale: But Hardon has begun to rise.

Always the innovator, Cruz waits for Hardon to stand up, and turn around. Jumping from his launch pad, Cruz reaches quite the height, flying into Hardon with a spectacular cross body splash. As they hit the mat, Hardon rolls through onto his feet, having held onto Cruz

Bryan: What a counter by the champ.

Hardon quickly tosses Cruz up into the firemans carry position, pacing slightly as the crowds cheers get louder.

Yale: The end is...

As Hardon spins Cruz off his shoulders, Cruz, with cat like reflexes lands on his feet.

Bryan: NO! HE COUNTERS!

Cruz locks himself onto Hardons side, and lifts him upwards, spinning in the process!

Bryan: CRUZIFIX SLAM!

Yale: NO! COUNTER!

Hardon himself flips out of Cruz finishing attempt. As Cruz spins around, he is met with a kick to the midsection. Hardon hoists him up, and as quickly as he regains the firemans carry position, he spins Cruz out hard to the mat.

Yale: THE DIRTY DANGLE!

Bryan: That should be it.

Hardon lay across Cruz prone body, as David Fellows drops to the mat for the count.

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3!

DING DING DING!

Bryan: Hardon has done it. He has successfully defended his GCW Television Championship!

Yale: And remained undefeated in the process.

Andrews: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner via pinfall, and still GCW Television Champion, SEXTON HAAAAARRRRRRDOOOOOOOOOOONNN!

David Fellows brings Hardon his championship, who holds onto it as he did the night he won the belt. Cruz has slowly begun to stir on the mat, as Hardon holds the title high, soaking in the adoration of the St. Louis audience.

Bryan: He is not undefeated.

Yale: Stop hating JB.

Hardon makes his way up the aisle way, high fiving fans and wiggling for photos, all the while, Brad Cruz, now in a seated position, stares at the Television Champ who makes his departure, disappointed at the outcome of a hard fought battle.

Bryan: After this doozy of a match, each competitor will need a quick turnaround because in mere hours, they will both be competing in the Dangerous Games match.

Yale: The Pay Per View equivalent of Christmas JB! I love it!

Back to Top






The remains of the TV Title match are still cleaning up when the recorded voice of a woman screaming rips through the Scottrade Center like a goddam knife.

"CALL 9-1-1 NOW!"

Skrillex's "First of the Year" blasts in right at the bass drop. The fans are still cringing from the cacophony as a quick burst of pyro draws all eyes to the entrance way. Walking out at a steady pace, clad in a pair of baggy black cargo pants, black Doc Martens, and a white unbuttoned REI Sahara Tech shirt, Johnny Borealis approaches the ring axs though he hasn’t been absent for so long.

Bryan: Well, well, well...look who finally decided to show up to work.

Yale: Jeez, JB, this guy hasn’t been around in four months. Four. Months. And figure the first night he decides to show himself...it’s the one time he really, really should’ve stayed home!

Bryan: Well it’s a fact that Mister Borealis here has a World Title match against Triumph Frost tonight.

Yale: I know! Why do you think he should’ve stayed in bed?

The fans’ reaction isn’t exactly warm. Borealis doesn’t look surprised as he walks down the entrance way, having popped his signature Oakley’s up on top of his perfect hair. Your Guilty Pleasure eyes the crowd on either side of him and doesn’t see very many outstretched hands...hardly the welcome for a World Title challenger who only a few months ago won accolades for winning the Rampage Tournament.

Bryan: I’m not sure what exactly he is going to say, but he certainly has a lot to answer for. Last we saw of the man he briefly showed up in Triumph Frost’s office, played a game of stare-down, and then later that night wrapped a steel chair around the head of Vivica Valentine-

Yale: In other words, he got my hopes up sky high! But then the jerk went and fell off the map for a third of a year. You don’t just dash my hopes like that, JB!

Borealis seems to wait on the ring apron, staring at the mat inside of the squared circle, and giving some sweat on his nose a quick flick with his thumb and index finger. Hazel eyes aren’t hidden behind tinted lenses, and the million dollar smile isn’t hiding his thoughts. Johnathan Fitzwillis is bare in front of thousands, and many times that number watching from home, as he takes a sniff of the air and steps through the ropes.

Bryan: I don’t know if Triumph Frost gives a damn what his opponent is about to say. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t paying attention.

Borealis is handed a mic and lifts it up. Unfocused eyes scan nothing in particular, just the mass of people watching him as a whole, with no cheering or booing or expectations or hopes coming from the crowd. They are returning to him exactly what he’s given them thus far in 2012...nothing.

Borealis: St. Louis. How do you do.

A few fans whoop, mostly because that’s the protocol when mentions your city by name. Johnny’s deadpan expression stays solidified as he nods his head and chews on his lower lip, in recognition of the chilly reception he has deserved.

Borealis: I guess at this point, you all actually were expecting a holographic Tupac to perform before you thought I’d come out and do my thing. And I can’t blame you for it.

He paces a few steps in the middle of the ring, keeping his eyes from focusing as he speaks very deliberately, every word crystal clear.

Borealis: Truth be told, I did much the same thing way back in 2005. I landed the number one contendership...and I promptly fell off the face of the planet. Took me five years to make it back to GCW, to start all over from scratch with my career. With my stance as an elite force in this business. And with all of you, it took time to regain the trust I’d thrown away.

He runs a hand through his hair, and it falls back in place and has that perfectly styled look. Fitzwillis looks up and out, into the mass of fans in the arena, with all their eyes on him. The spotlight. The perfect moment, his moment, to which he should have been welcomed with fanfare and applause and a smile on his face. He’s had four months to make every fan in this arena salivate at the sight of him, and instead he’s succeeded at using the Rampage tournament to launch himself into a special brand of obscurity.

Borealis: The truth is, regardless of what has come up in my life outside this ring, I haven’t handled it. And one of the promises I made to you, that I make to you by being who I say I am, is that I’ll always...always handle my shit. I will always find it in me to leave at the door what’s meant to stay outside, and to exist here. Now. For you all, and for this life. And I failed.

Bryan: For fans that may not know, Johnathan Fitzwillis has had some legal issues that-

Yale: Waahh! Performers on this roster have all kinds of issues, and it doesn’t stop them from showing up and doing their job. He can tell his sob story somewhere else.

Borealis: I imagine the last time most of you saw me...it was before Christmas. Vivica Valentine was set to take on Triumph Frost for the World Title. I took a steel chair and used it to leave my personal indentation on her skull...and then I went away. And there was a hole where I’d left, a vacuum filled by those that showed up to fill it.

Johnny Borealis stops his pacing. Stands still as stone for what seems like too long before his shoulders rise and fall. One heavy sigh exhales his mistakes, to be swallowed by the arena air.

Borealis: I’m not here to apologize to Viv. In fact, even if I was, I think we all know her well enough to estimate exactly how she would accept it. No, she’ll square up with me in her own way, and she’ll do it when she’s ready to. And I’ll be ready and waiting when she gets to it, and we’ll go from there. I’m also not here to be what she gets off on being...to lecture you all about what I am. About how hard I work. About being elite, because unlike Vivica Valentine I trust you all to know ‘elite’ when you see it.

Yale: Finally! Something we can agree upon; Valentine underestimates everyone and hates men.

Bryan: I-...never mind.

Borealis: I’m not out here to tell you where I’ve been and what I’ve done, to live in the past about my accolades or about how I’ve wasted the last four months. I’m not here to give you excuses for where I’ve been, only to own up to my absence. Not to search for your pity or your trust, but to earn back what I’ve lost. My momentum. My drive. My fanbase.

Borealis: And just like I’m not here to talk about the past, I’m also not going to claim to be The Future. That claim has already been made by one Triumph Frost, who I’m sure is sitting in the back, keeping one eye on what’s going on down here and other split off in another direction. Who I am sure is always ready to defend what he’s fought so hard to obtain. When we all know in reality that everything he’s got, everything he’s ever ‘fought’ for, sure has come with a lot of...help. Unless he somehow built his own trust fund.

Bryan: Yikes.

Borealis: But that’s fine by me. It’s Triumph’s initiative that allowed him to take that money left to him and launch himself into a position where he holds the power around here. And he’s earned himself a lot, oh yes. A whole lot. Because he’s the future. And if there’s one thing that’s true about the future, it’s that it’s inevitable.

Borealis: He’s claimed stake and in doing so has put a lot of stake into his work. And, therefore, there is a lot at stake for him. Because right now, he’s got everything to lose. Especially the future. I’m a man that knows a whole hell of a lot about. That.

Yale: Please please please Triumph, come out and interrupt him!

Bryan: I don’t know if Frost is going to sit back and let the number one contender make these claims, but don’t be surprised if he waits until their match tonight to play his hand.

Borealis: I live here. In the now. The present. I don’t live in the months where I was gone. I don’t live in the future that I claim as my own. Because there is only one thing that’s real in this world, and that is the moment we’re in. Our memories...they lie to us. Unless anyone here claims that they always stood where they stand...those that boo Alex Pierce, you know you cheer for her once. Those that long for Jay Terror to return, there was a time you hated his guts! And those that don’t know what to expect from me, you know there was a time when you knew I would blow you away!

His eyes have grown intense. Some sweat trickles from his brow and his breathing is a touch faster than it was. The once-fickle crowd is still silent, though now it is because they need to, want to, cannot wait to hear his claim. Johnathan Fitzwillis no longer stands in front of them, but Johnny Borealis’ smirk finally begins to beam bright on his face.

Borealis: The other thing about the future...it never really comes to pass. It’s imaginary, just like our memories, and it can lie to us just the same. So if I were you...all of you, I’d keep that in mind. And stop asking, "Where’s Johnny been," and stop asking, "Where’s Triumph going," and instead ask one thing and one thing alone.

Silence. He flips down the Oakley’s and it’s like he never left.

Borealis: "Holy shit...how long until the World Title match?"

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

"First of the Year" by Skrillex takes us out.

Back to Top


Backstage.

High heeled shoes on a tiled floor. They're red, these shoes, with four or five inch stilettos, and the legs they're attached to go on for miles, partly bared by the asymmetrical hem of a carnation pink skirt. Kathryn Shaw moves with confidence, not walking so much as prowling through the hallway with one destination in mind.

Shaw: Phil? Philly?

Pity the poor intern in the GCW polo, because he doesn't stand a chance. It's the double-take that draws her to him, jaw hung open slightly. Kathryn veers in his direction, her smile curling.

Shaw: Hiya, handsome. Have you seen Phillip Kennedy? He's, like, yay tall, green eyes, black cowboy hat...

That gets her a mute point in the proper direction, and she brushes her fingertips across the kid's jaw, sashaying that way. A brief knock touches a partially ajar door, Kathryn's gaze passing over the plush leather loveseat set in front of a big screen television. She clucks her tongue.

Shaw: This... is not how I envisioned you preparing for the American Dream match, Philly Bear.

Kennedy: Oh, but I am, Kathryn. I’m summoning up the proper motivation. And if this contest turns out how I hope, I will have allll the motivation in the world. The smile on Kennedy’s face broadens just a tiny bit.
Kennedy: You understand, don’t you?

Shaw: I suppose, but there's also that old saying about chickens hatching. What happens if Redding--

She gives a slow, quiet chuckle.

Shaw: Okay, even I can't sell that one. I mean, maybe Amy shouldn't be your focus., though. Jackson is like four times her size, and...

Kennedy: Brad Jackson didn’t stop me at the final hurdle from becoming SCCW Universal Champion.

The words are spoken calmly, but the steel beneath belies the cordiality.

Kennedy: Brad Jackson did not take years off of my career. Brad Jackson didn’t sleep with the leader of my organization . Brad Jackson has done nothing to me, and Amy Campbell has DONE EVERYTHING SHE CAN to make me miserable. Brad Jackson is a tough competitor who I will cash in my American Dream on at his lowest point. That much is simply. But Amy?

The grin that follows isn’t pleasant. Not at all. It's enough that Kathryn Shaw looks away briefly as Phillip settles into his seat. She crosses the room, brushing her hand across his shoulder blades.

Shaw: I really don't want you to lose sight of the goal here, Philly. Amy isn't the goal here, she's a stepping stone. Who wins this match doesn't change anything. Do you want to be atop the federation, or do you want some petty vengeance against Campbell?

Kennedy: I want to be atop the federation with her bloodied body lying on the ground. Just once, Kathi. I don’t want her dead. I don’t want her crippled. I don’t want her retired, I just want to beat her. Once, and the Dream virtually ensures I can do that. Once I pin her shoulders down once, I’m done with her. Taking the US title from her would be sweeter than most things I can think of.

Kathryn perches on the edge of the armrest.

Shaw: Only most things?

Kennedy: You're not going to distract me from the one time I'm actually rooting for her to win, are you?

Shaw: Distract? Me? Well, I'd never. I just... perhaps I could join you?

The Big Stack chuckles, but finally nods.Kennedy: You are incorrigible. One of your better character traits. Just close the door first, hmm? Wouldn’t want anyone walking in on an important strategy session, would you, my…no, Tantric advisor was weeks ago. This week is…erotic massage therapist, right?

Kathi stands, grinning back over her shoulder.

Shaw: Well, I have always managed to help you get your kinks out, hmm?

She crosses slowly to the door, swinging it shut. Her eyes meet the camera very briefly, and there's something in them. Something we don't usually see in Kathryn Shaw.

Doubts.

Cut away.

Back to Top

Bryan: Time for our second championship match of the night.

Yale: I hope this one goes better in having the people I don't like getting their head kicked in.

Bryan: Which one don't you like? Jackson?

Yale: That dude is a beast.

Bryan: Aimz?

Yale: Well, she's not my favorite. But she can work on that with some lesbian tongue-kissing. Somebody let her know.

Bryan: Will you--

Yale: What, we're on pay-per-view. I can say "lesbian".

Bryan: Let's just go up to Joey Andrews in the ring.

Joey Andrews in the ring. Your wish is our command, JB.

Andrews: The following contest, scheduled for ONE FALL with a THIRTY-MINUTE time limit, is for the GCW UNITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first...

Quiet synth music is piped through the arena.

Andrews: Introducing first!

The hard, thrumming guitar leads right into "Make Me Wanna Die" by the Pretty Reckless.

Take me, I'm alive
Never was a girl with a wicked mind
But everything looks better
When the sun. goes. down...


The Mega*Tron flares with gold-tinged highlights. A little redhead leaps to the top rope, turning over into a picture-perfect 450 splash across an opponent's chest. The next flips over at a bad angle, caught by her corkscrew neckbreaker. The third takes a running punt square to the head.

I had everything
Opportunities for eternity
And I could belong to the night...


Andrews: She hails from Nova Scotia, Canada and weighed in tonight at one hundred and twenty-seven pounds!

As the shots above on the video screen speed up in time with the music, a small silhouette appears in the entranceway, bouncing from foot to foot.

Yale: I'm telling you. Lesbian kisses.

Bryan: Will you stop--she was SCCW's champion for more than a year. She's more than just Alexandra Pierce's girlfriend.

Yale: I remain skeptical.

Your eyes, your eyes
I can see it in your eyes, your eyes.


As the chorus hits, pyro fires gold and red from either side of the ramp and a machine-gun like array of rat-tat-tat explosions leads her out.

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, THIS is the Red Raver! THIS!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS! AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMZZZZZ!

You make me wanna die
I'll never be good enough
You make me wanna die
And everything you love
Will burn up in the night
And every time I look inside your eyes
You make me wanna die


The spotlights whip down to the little redhead as she races out through the curtain, her grin wide and her eyes sparkling. She's greeted by a raucous ovation, wandering down the side of the stage, pointing to someone in the crowd whose shouts attracted her attention. It's a weekly thing - she loves that she can make someone's night just by pointing them out - and Campbell crosses to the other side of the stage, shielding her eyes to look up to the cheap seats.

Taste me, drink my soul
Show me all the things
That I shouldn't know
And there's a blue moon on the rise


Yale: She's so little.

Bryan: You can't measure heart.

Yale: Pretty sure you can.

Amy's not a fancy girl, but she's never needed to be. A pair of baggy pants hang low on her hips, her tattooed midriff bared by a black tanktop. She wears a red leather jacket that sparkles in the spotlight, her name crawling over the shoulder and down her arm in thick black stitching. She makes a full turn, arms out, as she finds the head of the ramp, her long rosary necklace whipping through the air. Being in front of a live crowd is what she was made for - it's what she lives for.

Bryan: Twice before, Amy has had a shot at the US champion.

Yale: And twice before, she's come up short!

I had everything
Opportunities for eternity
And I could belong to the night


Bryan: She beat Karina Wolfenden by disqualification when Tessa Windsor interfered. She beat Alexander Redding by disqualification when his manager Grady Patrick interfered. But Brad Jackson flies solo, Dave.

Yale: Won't matter.
Your eyes, your eyes
I can see in your eyes, your eyes
Everything in your eyes, your eyes...


Campbell leaps headlong onto the ring apron, slinging herself over the top into a diving roll. She ends on one knee, pulling long costume rosary up and over her head. Swinging the beaded necklace lightly, she pivots quickly to her feet, bounding onto the second turnbuckle without using her hands. First, the little redhead sends her jewelry flying into the crowd - probably with a small prayer it doesn't hit someone in the eye - for a lucky fan to catch (and sell on eBay for an embarrassingly low price she'll one day find). As the ridiculous ovation spawned by free stuff dies down, she strips off the jacket, dropping it into a ringside attendant's waiting hands, and the (hopefully) sugar-induced, jubilant shouting to amp herself up ensues while her theme's chorus chimes behind her.

You make me wanna die

As the song quiets, she leaps off the rope, turning in mid-air to face the entranceway. She wraps both arms around the top rope and leans back, bounding off in her own pent-up eagerness as all eyes turn to the entrance. Like them, she awaits her opponent.

Andrews: And HER opponent!

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.

Andrews: From New York City, New York and weighing in at two HUNDRED and SEVENTY-SEVEN pounds... he is the reigning -- AND DEFENDING -- Global Championship Wrestling UNIIIIITED STAAAATES CHAMPION!

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."

Andrews: The Machine! BRAAAAAAAD! JAAAAAAACKSON!!!

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.


Bryan: For those of you who only watch GCW on pay-per-view... first, what's wrong with you?

Yale: Yeah, these things are pricy.

Bryan: You might remember that last time we came to you it was Alexander Redding who won the United States Championship after it was forfeited by Johnny Borealis--

Yale: I keep meaning to ask if that means Johnny is the shortest reigning US champion ever.

Bryan: [pressing on] Back at High Stakes at the end of the year, Brad Jackson won the American Dream, and he didn't wait but a week to cash it in, beating Redding after Aimz did the dirty work.

Yale: I seem to remember Redding getting dropped on his head right before the pinfall.

Bryan: That being said, Amy's two DQ wins in previous title matches earned her this shot.

Yale: Captain Exposition to the rescue!

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Bryan: And here we go!

Yale: It's like they timed it that way!

Bryan: Aimz in, Jackson going for a loc-up -- Campbell underneath and she snaps off a kick to the leg!

Yale: Smart strategy, JB. Jackson is bigger by far, and power is his game. If he gets a grip on her, Aimz is done for.

Bryan: Again, Jackson with the lunge, and AGAIN Aimz slips underneath! And a chop block! Jackson is staggered! He drops to a knee! Amy picks the ankle -- Jackson shoves her away! One hand sends Amy flying! Campbell off the ropes and--OH! Shoulderblock! From his knees! The United States Champion is still dominant on his knees!

Amy scoots back, one arm wrapped around the bottom rope. You don't have to be an expert lip reader to know that was "What the Fuck?"

Yale: Back to the drawing board!

Bryan: Aimz having no luck with Brad Jackson here in the early going! Jackson back p to his feet, Aimz to hers! Campbell off the ropes, duck of a clothesline, she hits the rope on the other side--another lariat? No! Floatover into a DDT--

Yale: Blocked!

Bryan: Blocked by Brad Jackson! Northern lights suplex? No! Aimz lands on her feet! She continues past, off the ropes again! Baseball slide between the -- caught by Jackson! Brad Jackson deadlifts Aimz up into a belly-to-belly--AGAIN Amy up and over and--reverse mat slam! Aimz hooks both legs!




ON--



Yale: Barely a one!

Bryan: Jackson out at one! Aimz off the ropes! Shining wiz--

Yale: Caught!

Bryan: Jackson snatches Amy out of the air!

Yale: He's standing, JB!

Bryan: Brad Jackson is a beast! Powerbomb! Jackson stacks her on her shoulders!

Yale: I guess this is where I say I'd like to stack her up?


ONE!!!








TWOOOO!!



Yale: Not so fast!

Bryan: Aimz gets the shoulder up--and she uses the momentum to slip between the ropes to the floor!

Yale: She's' a slippery little devil!

Bryan: Jackson up! He reaches for Amy! Guillotine! Guillotine and a --

WHACK!

Bryan: Gamengiri! Gamengiri puts Brad on his heels! Amy up to the apron--but Jackson meets her with a forearm! Front facelock! Jackson steps up to the middle rope! Deadlift superplex in! WHAT POWER!

Yale: He holds on!

Bryan: Jackson holds on! He pulls Amy vertical again! Delayed suplex--OHHH! INTO THE DOUBLE KNEE BACKBREAKER!!

Yale: Amy might be dead!

Bryan: Jackson rolls her over into a lateral press!


ONE!!







TWO!!!







THR--



Yale: Maybe I was wrong!

Bryan: Amy kicks out! She's tougher than a two dollar steak!

Yale: Tastier, too, I bet. We should ask Alex.

Bryan: Alex Pierce terrifies you.

Yale: Alex Pierce terrifies EVERYONE.

Bryan: Jackson pitches Aimz bodily into the corner! He charges in--Campbell gets the boots up!

Yale: Well, sneakers.

Bryan: But Jackson won't go down! He charges in again, knocks the kick aside and--OH! Aimz laid across the corners and she about got kicked into orbit! Amy slumped into the corner! Brad won't let up! Corner-to-corner Irish whip across the hypotenuse of the ring!

Yale: He's hot on her heels!

Bryan: Amy! Aimz floats over and twists in midair! BACKCRACKER! RIDICULOUS agility by Amy Campbell! Amy up quickly--running shooting star press!

Yale: No cover!

Bryan: Aimz to the outside! Slingshot across the corner! Asai moonsault! The Red Raver Revolution! NOW she hooks the leg!



ONE!!







TWO!!






THRE--


Bryan: Brad Jackson still has some fight left!

Yale: Not if she hits this!

Bryan: Campbell lining up for the Bitchkiller! Aimz setting up for that big running kick that's won her so many matches!

Yale: Have you ever seen her so focused?

Bryan: It's been almost two years since she's held a title of any kind, and this is her third shot at the US title, so who knows if she'll ever get another! Jackson up to his hands and knees! Campbell charges! Bitchkill--

Yale: SPEAR!

Bryan: Desperation move from Brad Jackson! He intercepted the head punt! He intercepted the kick and nearly sawed the challenger in half! Aimz is down! Jackson is down! The referee is laying down his count



ONE!!



TWO!!



Bryan: If Hal Jenkins gets to a ten count before Aimz or Jackson get to their feet, we'll have a jaw here!

Yale: How ironic would it be for Aimz to be 2-0-1 in title matches and never win the US title!


THREE!!




FOUR!!


Bryan: Jackson rolls over onto his side! Aimz still holding her ribs! And--


"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Bryan: What is she doing out here? Quinn Gregory making her way to ringside, and that mammoth goon is out there with her!

Yale: Uh, he's her bodyguard. And Amy is practically Quinn's big sister.

Bryan: And she'll be refereeing Quinn's mother's match with Vivica J. Valentine later!

Yale: That's right, she will! I'd almost forgotten!

Bryan: Quinn exhorting Amy to get up, but it's Jackson who's up first! Brad pulls up Amy--oh! A jab! Campbell sneaks in a jab!

"YAY!'

Bryan: Jackson answers!

"BOO!"

Bryan: Aimz!

"YAY!"

Bryan: Jackson!

"BOO!"

Yale: I don't know how long Amy wants to trade shots with somebody like Brad Jackson.

"YAY! YAY!"

Bryan: Two quick shots from the Red Raver! She ducks under Jackson's answer! Off the ropes, and--

Yale: BALLGAME!

Bryan: THERAPY! THERAPY BY BRAD JACKSON! HE HOOKS A DEEP COVER!





ONE!!










TWO!!!











THREE


Yale: Foot on the ropes! And no, before you ask, Quinn did not put it there.

Bryan: But she is getting up on the apron! Quinn Gregory up on the apron! She'd better be careful--I doubt Brad Jackson would blink at running over an eighteen year old girl!

Yale: Well, he didn't blink when he ran through one last night!

Bryan: Ashe! Ashe slides into the ring! I thought you said he was just a bodyguard!

Yale: This is preventative bodyguard work! Like Minority Report.

Bryan: Ashe clobbers Brad Jackson from behind! Jenkins didn't see anything! Roderick spins the US champ around and -- OH! Rydeen bomb! He calls that the Big Fall!

Yale: How did Hal not FEEL the ring shake?

Bryan: Jackson is no small guy, and Quinn's bodyguard just lifted him into the air like a small child! Now he rolls Aimz on top! Are they trying to give her the US title as... as some kind of BRIBE so she'll help Alex later? Quinn down to the floor, Hal turns!



ONE!!









TWO!!!





Bryan: Not like this!





THREE--


Not like this.

Bryan: Jackson kicks out! Quinn is beside herself! Aimz up to her knees! She swipes the hair out of her face, trying to put together what's going on! She--

Yale: What's she doing?

Bryan: Campbell rolls out of the floor! She circles to Ashe! Don't tell me! Don't tell me she's been in on this--


"RRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"


Bryan: Aimz with a straight kick to Roderick Ashe's knee! She hooks the head--FREETEKNO ON THE FLOOR!

Yale: Why? Why would she do that!

Bryan: She doesn't want to win that way! Amy wants to win--JACKSON!

Yale: Holy. God.

Bryan: Jackson reaches over the ropes! He's got Aimz by the head! Brad Jackson lifts Aimz by her damn head! Campbell onto the apron and--

WHACK!

Bryan: Head kick! Blindside head kick by Campbell! Springboard! Crossbody!

Yale: CAUGHT!

Bryan: AGAIN Brad Jackson snatches her out of midair like a child's plaything! He tosses her onto his shoulders! Head Trip? Could he be going for that burning hammer here?

Yale: No!

Bryan: She lands on her feet! Off the ropes! Mi paso!

Yale: Wow, they're moving fast!

Bryan: Campbell leaps to the middle rope and back in! Ace crusher!

Yale: Not a chance!

Bryan: Jackson shrugs her off like she's nothing! Campbell goes helicoptering across the ring! Jackson pulls her up to her feet! He chickenwings the arms!

Yale: I'm guessing Something Wicked this way comes.

Bryan: But Amy knows this move! Alex Pierce uses a variation for it in her Mastermind! Campbell's sparred against it! She puts on the brakes and drops to a knee! Amy pushes off! Jackson goes chest-first into the ropes! Amy--

WHACK!

Bryan: Another kick! Straight thrust kick to the back of the head! Jackson drops to a knee! Amy grabs the inverted facelock again! Freetekno?

Yale: Not a chance!

Bryan: Jackson standing! Jackson standing with Amy draped across his back! What's he going to d--AIMZ SHIFTS HER WEIGHT! CRAB ROLL WITH A BRIDGE!!





ONEEEEEE!!!!














TWOOOOOO!!!









THREEEEE!!


[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

"RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"

Andrews: Here is your winner... ANNNND NNNNNNNEWWWWW! GCW UNITED STATES CHAMPION! AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMZZZZZ!!!

Yale: Fluke roll-up!

Bryan: Amy knew how to deal with Jackson's finisher, and she pulled off the roll-up! Third time's the charm, and the drought is over!

Yale: Brad Jackson is a beast! I'd like to see them go again, JB!

Bryan: Aimz out to the floor, accepting the US title belt from Hal Jenkins! Quinn tried to give it to her, but Amy won the belt herself and she did it fair and square!

Yale: Now she's got other business to worry about!

Bryan: Campbell locks eyes with Quinn, out by her man, and she knows that her personal drought might be over, but she's still caught in the middle of her lover and her best friend! But for now, again, Amy is champion!

Back to Top






Bryan: The Dangerous Games match itself is quite possibly going to be the biggest match of the year. Our fans on the net are all abuzz about who some of the mystery entrants will be.

Yale: They are definitely a wildcard factor. The GCW stars confirmed for Dangerous Games have got to feel at a disadvantage. Someone crazy enough may think it's an unfair advantage.

Bryan: Speaking of...

We switch to backstage where Ayake Sonoda stands outside the women's dressing room with a microphone and a bored look on her face. Behind her, the hulking figure of Eddie Whisky looks to be applying... face paint?

Ayake: Well Bryan and David, the mystery entrants are certainly a factor that favors the odds against the likes of my guest right now. Eddie Whisky, how will you prepare for the unnamed and unidentified opponents you will face?

Eddie turns to face Ayake. Indeed he has painted his face to match the camo pattern on his vest.

Eddie Whisky: How will I prepare? How can I prepare? It was bad enough that the GCW tried to make me too injured to compete tonight at Worldwide 158! Well NOW I have to fight something I can't even see?!

Ayake: Uh. I don't think they're invisible, they just haven't been identified yet.

Eddie gets a confused look on his face.

Eddie Whisky: Well if they bleed, I call kill them!

Ayake: I... see.

Eddie Whisky: No Ayake, I don't think you do. The Conspiracy to Keep Eddie Whisky From Winning Dangerous Games and Going onto NC-17 made a fatal mistake by choosing this Eddie Whisky to conspire against! I have come loaded for bear! I am dressed for success! I don't care who the mystery opponents are!

Ayake: Can I go now?

Eddie Whisky: And another thing! I am sick and tired of the GCW roster trying to shun me! Locking the dressing room? Pretending you've never heard of me? I ain't buying it!

Ayake: I think you should be using the men's dressing room, Mr. Whisky.

Eddie Whisky: And let them know what my plans are? Fat chance! GCW! Mystery Opponents! Fans at ringside! My Mom! You are all going to see that no matter how hard you try to beat me down, Eddie Whisky cannot be broken! Only one person is strong enough to beat Eddie Whisky! Only Eddie Whisky beats Eddie Whisky!

Ayake: Er. Yes. Well Bryan?

Ayake makes furtive 'cut' motions with her hand, and the scene cuts back to the broadcast position.

Yale: You know, Eddie Whisky kinda makes sense. Maybe it IS a conspiracy.

Bryan ignores this and continues as if none of this happened.

Back to Top

David Yale: The following match is the American Dream Ladder Match! The first one to climb the ladder and unhook the American Dream Briefcase will be the winner and have the chance to cash in on a title shot opportunity!

"Hail the Villain" blasts throughout the arena as the match gets underway.

James Bryan: This match is going to make someone’s career tonight, and we’re here to witness it!

David Yale: Introducing first, weighing in at 220 pounds and standing 6 feet 2 inches tall, he hails from Kitchener, Ontario, Canada, the WILLING VILLIAN! He is ALEXANDER REDDING!

Alexander makes his way down to the ring to a jeer of dislike from the fans in attendance. Some fans have gone as far to make signs to say "The Willing Villain is a Wussy V----a", and the camera pans back to Alexander Redding who rolls into the ring and scopes out the ladders around the ring side area. Hail the Villain fades out and David Yale takes his position.

David Yale: Introducing his opponent, weighing in at 183 pounds and stands 6 feet 5 inches, hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he is DKD…. KASIDY DRAKE!

"The Fated March" by K.J. Martin plays and Drake Kasidy runs out of through the entrance and down to the ring sliding in and leaping to his feet. He runs to one side of the ring and bounces off the ropes, and stops in the middle of the ring to drop to one knee and flex his biceps. His music fades out.

David Yale: Introducing next, weighing in at 249 pounds, standing 6 foot 3inches and hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada! He is the Sin City Savior, the Las Vegas Lariat…. PHILLIP KENNEDY!

"Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)" by Big & Rich blares over the PA system. Phillip Kennedy walks out of the back in his ring gear, ready to brawl with his fists taped up and a chain hanging from his neck. Walking to the ring the fans are on their feet anticipating the bell ring.

James Bryan: This could very well be our next United States Champion and his first title in GCW!

David Yale: Kennedy has three opponents tonight gunning for the same goal, if he can handle the hurt locker of this steel ladder match, he deserves it.

James Bryan: We just saw what the American Dream can mean, with a newly crowned United States champion being crowned. Do you think that motivates these men at all David?

David Yale: Oh definitely! To see it be cashed in and successfully winning the title, is a notch every one of these guys wants to put on their resumes.

Three of the four wrestlers are at ringside as the music from Phillip Kennedy’s entrance dies out. David Yale takes to his announcing post for the final competitor to be introduced.

David Yale: Introducing the last opponent for tonight’s bout, weighing in at 229 pounds and standing 6 foot 2 inches! He hails from Buffalo, New York, yessss it’s NEW YORK’S FINEST…. DYNASTY!

"Badass" by Saliva immediately pounds through the arena like a freight train off its rails, and Dynasty makes his appearance through the curtain. Nodding his head to the fans as he stretches a little on his way to the ring, Dynasty appears confident in his ability to make a splash on the GCW scene tonight. Walking up the stairs he takes the apron and walks to the center of the ropes, turning to the fans and pointing out and panning to the audience before stepping through the ropes into the squared circle.

James Bryan: Dynasty has a glimmer in his eye, he looks like he’s going to either make this his night or end some one else’s career tonight.

David Yale: The tension is as thick as whole wheat bread folks! Who will be the next to cash in on the American Dream, who will make the impact of their professional wrestling career? We are about to find out!

James Bryan: Next~!

The show cuts to a paid Pay-Per-View commercial break advertising GEICO, save 15% on car insurance.

David Yale: And were back, the referee has positioned the suitcase on its hooks, and it has been raised nearly 15 feet in the air.

James Bryan: All four men are in their corners, awaiting the bell to ring.

With Bryan’s last word we here the double ding to signify the match is underway, and instantly the four men collide, Kennedy and Redding are thrashing each other with heavy blows. Dynasty and Drake battle it out in the corner exchanging chops. Dynasty has Drake on the defensive and as he goes for a chop, Drake ducks and lifts Dynasty over the top rope. Dynasty hangs on though and lands on the apron, Drake throws a shoulder into his abdomen, causing Dynasty to wrench forward and grab the middle rope. Drake flips over the top rope and grabs Dynasty for a sunset flip onto the ringside floor!

David Yale: Sunset flip to the floor!

James Bryan: High impact off the bell! Dynasty looks rocked from that!

Drake pushes Dynasty’s leg off of him and crawls to a ladder near the fan barricade. Getting to his feet he begins picking up the ladder and goes to the apron with it. Inside the ring Kennedy whips Redding to the ropes, Redding ducks Kennedy’s clothesline and Redding baseball slides the ladder into the chest of Drake!

James Bryan: Steel into the chest, Drake getting a taste earlier on of what ladders will do to the human body!

David Yale: Redding is on the apron now and Kennedy is running at him!

Redding turns around, drops to the apron holding the top rope as Kennedy goes flying over the top rope with a missed clothesline! Kennedy crashes on the floor next to Drake and an ascending Dynasty. Redding stands up on the apron and is proud of his quick reaction. The time wasted allows for Dynasty to jump up and deliver an enziguri to the back of Redding, who falls backwards to the outside. Dynasty held on to the ropes during the move and flings his body into the ring, rolling to a knee as he does so. Glancing around, he sees all three men climbing to their feet outside the ring.

James Bryan: Dynasty making Redding pay for his showboating, and it may have left an opening for him to get the ladder.

David Yale: Dynasty looks like he has other plans, watch thi~

Dynasty rushes the ropes, grabbing the top, he does a twisting plancha onto the three men!

James Bryan: A diving twisting plancha!

David Yale: Chalk up another to the GCW highlight reel for Dynasty!

James Bryan: They don’t call it Dangerous Games for nothing Yale!

David Yale: And it’s ringing true right now.

Dynasty rolls off the body of Redding and Drake and crawls to the nearest ladder that was grabbed by Drake prior. Lifting it to the apron he pushes it into the ring, but Kennedy who took only a the momentum of Dynasty’s descent, is right behind him. Clubbing the back of Dynasty, Kennedy rolls him into the ring and slides in. Grabbing Dynasty by the hair, Kennedy knee lifts him in the chest and pushes his back down as he lifts him for a power bomb!

David Yale: Onto the ladder!

James Bryan: He folded him up like a taco!

David Yale: A taco?

James Bryan: Yeah, soft tacos’, they get rolled and folded. Have you never had a burrito?

David Yale: Never mind that… Dynasty is rolling around holding his back from that steel bending power bomb.

James Bryan: Kennedy may have done more harm than good, look at the ladder, its trashed!

Lifting the ladder up to place, Kennedy sees the ladder is mangled from the two hundred plus pounds he just dropped on it. Throwing the ladder over the top rope to the outside, Kennedy goes through the ropes towards the entrance for another ladder. On the other side of the ring Drake and Redding are up and Redding has Drake against the barricade. Throwing lefts and rights Redding is reeling the DKD. Redding hooks the arm and whips Drake towards the ring post, countered though mid whip and Drake reverses sending Redding into the steel steps! Drake looks across the ring to see Dynasty hanging on the middle rope holding his back. Climbing into the ring, Drake bounces off the ropes and rushes an unknowing Dynasty, kneeing him in the back!

James Bryan: Drake is back in action!

David Yale: Kennedy is too!

Sliding the ladder into the ring Kennedy rolls in and comes up behind Drake with his hands open. Drake turns into a tie up, which Kennedy turns into a knee to the gut, and follows up with a gut wrench suplex! Dynasty has regained his composure and comes running towards Kennedy, he ducks a swinging arm from Kennedy, hits the ropes and lands a cross body to Kennedy onto the ladder! Redding enters the ring just after the move and delivers a running knee to a rising Dynasty. Redding continues the punishment, whipping Dynasty into the ropes, he comes back, catching Dynasty with a power slam! Getting to his feet with revived energy, Redding lands a leg drop on Kennedy on the ladder, but Kennedy moves at the last moment! Redding gets nothing but steel!

David Yale: That’s going to hurt in the morning!

James Bryan: I’m sure he’s feeling it right now Yale. Kennedy is up!

Kennedy grabs Dynasty by his singlet and tosses him through the ropes to the outside. Redding is on the other side of the ring rising with the ropes for support. Kennedy is waiting as he sees his opportunity to deliver a move. Redding turns right into a roudhouse kick that sends him to the outside of the ring, opposite of where Dynasty is.

David Yale: Where is Drake at?

James Bryan: Oh I think we found our answer…

A stack of tables is seen scooting out from under the ring, followed by Kasidy Drake. Getting up, Kasidy sets up one table and then another right next to it. The third table goes on top. Meanwhile in the ring Kennedy is setting up the ladder to get the American Dream briefcase.

James Bryan: We may have a winner right now!

David Yale: Wait, look to the left side, Dynasty is climbing the turnbuckle!

Dynasty ascends the turnbuckle unbeknown to Kennedy who is now climbing the ladder. Drake on the outside is sliding another ladder into the ring. Dynasty leaps from the turnbuckle and dropkicks the ladder, sending Kennedy to tilt and fall to the ropes, guillotining his self with the fall! Drake sets up the second ladder, and then sends a hard kick into the back of Dynasty, before repositioning the ladder Kennedy just fell from. Both ladders sit ready and positioned in the middle of the ring.

James Bryan: I think Drake is going insane, he just gave all his competitors and opportunity to climb up.

Redding begins to stir. Dynasty is ascending slowly the ladder next to Drake’s. Kennedy is back up from his guillotine, and heads towards the ladders. Redding rolls into the ring…

David Yale: I don’t think this is going to end well.

All four men are now on the ladders climbing, Redding side by side with Kennedy, Dynasty and Drake on the other side, all four battling it out with every rung they climb.

James Bryan: The American Dream is finger tips length away for all four men!

Redding takes a hard knee to the back from Kennedy as they reach the top, Dynasty reaches over and delivers a stiff jab to Drake, then furiously kicks him in the back of his knee not once, not twice, but three times. Drake has enough and goes to jump and kick Dynasty but he bends forward on the top of the ladder, and Drake’s kick nails Redding and sends him backwards off the ladder onto the canvas!

David Yale: It is going to be one of these three, I can feel it!

James Bryan: I don’t know…. The way those ladders are teetering it could just be a false alarm.

Dynasty reels back up on the ladder and with a hard elbow rocks Drake. Kennedy reaches up, but as he does gets a gut shot from Drake who was aiming for Dynasty and missed. Kennedy reaches over and delivers a double eye poke to Dynasty and Drake, then grabs them by their heads and drives them into each other!

James Bryan: Two heads are better than one!

David Yale: Dynasty looks out of it!

Drake stirs, Dynasty almost lets go but holds on with one hand, Kennedy climbs up and puts one foot over the ladder, and then kicks Dynasty in the jaw sending him twisting down to the canvas! Drake swings for Kennedy but Kennedy steps over to the second ladder and misses it. Drake looks around still dazed from the head butte.

James Bryan: This isn’t going to end good for Drake!

Kennedy pushes the ladder with his boot and watches as Drake goes falling to the outside of the ring through the tables he set up!

David Yale: PHILLIP KENNEDY WINS IT!

James Bryan: The next American Dream will be realized by the one and only, PHILLIP KENNEDY!

Back to Top





Ringside with JB and Dave.

Bryan: This... is gonna be a war.

Yale: And that's an understatement.

Bryan: Tensions have been hot between Alexandra Pierce and Vivica J. Valentine for months now, probably going back to last year when the Spider first made her way to GCW. For a while, though, it looked like the two proud competitors had settled their differences, joining together with Aimz to form the Anti-Establishment in the weeks leading up to Rampage.

Yale: But then Pierce remembered that Viv? Kiiiind of a downer.

Bryan: That's... I guess that's one way to look at it. Anther might be that the knee injury Alex suffered during the Rampage tournament made her realize how fragile her wrestling career is, and her true colors came out.

Yale: Yeah, but is "awesome" really a color, though?

Bryan: Whatever the reason, it's resulted in not one but two heinous attacks by Pierce -- the latest just at our last event, WorldWide 158, orchestrated by her increasingly loathsome daughter as some kind of twisted birthday present.

Yale: Did you see "loathsome" or "load-some"? Because I have to tell you, she looks good as a blonde.

Bryan: [pressing on] Alex and Viv came to blows later on at 158 during what was supposed to be a bikini contest, and it took Aimz to separate them. That was when Christian Zenith made this match.

Yale: But he didn't make it easy.

Bryan: No, he did not. Because Zenith declared that Aimz herself would be special guest referee, caught between her lover and her best friend. Not an enviable position to be for the Red Raver, and we've seen just how conflicted she's been all night.

Yale: Or how conflicted she's pretending to be. DUNN DUNN DUNN!!

Bryan: We'll see how--

Yale: I said, "DUNN DUNN DUNN!" that means we cut to the idiot up in the ring.

That means we cut to the idiot in the ring. Joey Andrews is totally wearing his snazzy pay-per-view duds. (No, we don't have a photo of that, either.)

Andrews: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL with a thirty-minute time limit! Introducing first, the special guest referee--

"Run This Town" by Jay-Z and company.

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, she is the NEW United States Heavyweight Champion! The Red Raver of Wrestling! This! Iiiiiis! AIIIIIIIIMZ!!

The exuberant redhead might have been a little bit quiet and a little bit ambivalent backstage, but once you put her out there in front of a crowd, the energy comes back. She makes a pass up the stage, trying to get the crowd hyped. It's more than moderately successful.

Yale: Is that really appropriate referee attire?

The referee attire in question is a bright red shirt and a pair of low-slung blue jeans, and she slaps a few hands, spinning around until she sees the empty ring ahead of her and comes up short, like the magnitude of what she has to do just hit her. Her grin dies on her lips, and she swipes a hand across her stop sign red hair as she slides into the ring.

Andrews: And now the competitors!

The pulsating morse code plays over the arena, sending the crowd into a frenzy as red jailbreak spotlights begin to swirl around waiting for the drum to kick in.

Then it does.

"Image Of The Invisible" by Thrice cuts through the arena, followed by a standing ovation from the St. Louis crowd. Every single person is on their feet clapping in unison they pulsate to the beat of the music before The Fearless Phenom breaks into the arena. Raising her arms in the air and jumping up and down, she works the crowd into a frenzy before leading them in a anthem, pointing down towards the ring.

We're more than carbon and chemicals...
Crowd: WE ARE THE IMAGE OF THE INVISIBLE!
Free will is ours and we can't let go...
Crowd: WE ARE THE IMAGE OF THE INVISIBLE!
We can't allow this, the quiet cull...
Crowd: WE ARE THE IMAGE OF THE INVISIBLE!
We sing out this, our canticle...
Crowd: WE ARE THE IMAGE OF THE INVISIBLE!

With a small jump she starts her journey down towards the ring, slapping hands with the fans who reach out desperately to try and make contact with the former World Heavyweight Champion. She tries to force a smile for the fans, but looking at the expression on Aimz's face in the ring, they both know just how difficult the situation they're in really is.

Andrews: Introducting first from Highland Park, Illinois! Weighing in at 129 pounds... "THE FEEEEARLESS PHEEEEEENOM" VIVICA JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY VAAAAAAAALLLLLENTINE!

Breaking into a sprint she dives under the bottom rope and somersaults to one knee. Vivica holds up two of her flying v symbols, one on each hand before springing up to her feet to the delight of the crowd. Sharing a bit of a nod of respect with Aimz, Vivica walks over to the nearest corner and climbs to the top rope looking across St. Louis' best before raising the flying v's high above her head.

Bryan: This woman has gone through a lot from Desade in the past couple of months, you have to wonder if she's out for blood or if she still just wants this all to end for Aimz's sake.

Yale: It doesn't matter, she's going to lose.

Bryan: Desade has made Vivica J. Valentine's life a living hell, and we've seen what Vivica is capable of in the past. This could really go either way. Aimz's presence could sooth the savage beast so to speak, but Desade may have awakened a Vivica J. Valentine that we haven't seen now in over a year. A violent, ruthless killer that she used to be.

Yale: Yeah, and then she got all "Awww, I lub you guys" and began to suck again. Vivica used to be the best in the business, but she's got to remember to get ahead in this place you have to look out for what's important... and that's yourself. That's all.

With a smirk she points her hands at the crowd and does a backflip off the top rope landing on her feet. Back pedaling towards her corner she gives a smirk towards Aimz, who claps jokingly at the 10 point landing from the Fearless Phenom.

Yale: Boy, they look buddy-buddy, don't they?

Bryan: They happen to be friends who share quite a great deal in common. I don't see the problem, unless you really think Aimz is going to screw her own girlfriend?

Yale: Well, at least not in the ring. Okay, no, what I'm saying is that it hasn't been Valentine who she's been scuffling with on WorldWide these last couple weeks, and it wasn't Valentine that Aimz was fearing she'd "lost".

Andrews: And HER opponent!

Yale: It was--

Lights out.

Yale: Dammit, why does she always do this to me?

The chanting that begins Machine Head's "I Am Hell (Sonata in C#)" fills the Scottrade Center. The stage is flushed a red like clotted blood. As that elevator rises into the arena proper, we get a shot of the ring, an eager Valentine itching to charge up the ramp, but Aimz blocks her path with a hand raised.

Andrews: Wrestling out of Oakland, California, she is the self-proclaimed "Best Wrestler in the World"! This is the Spider in the Web! This is the QUEEEEEEEN of LIIIIIIES! This is Alexandra Pierce--DEEEEEEEEEE-SAAAAAHHHHHHHD(uh!)!

There's just a lone figure on the elevator, cloaked, veiled, and hooded, her head bowed and her arms hidden in the voluminous sleeves of a robe that could almost be called "funereal". Indeed, as thunder rumbles, the smoky clouds drifting across the MegaTron part to reveal a tombstone. The epitaph pulls no punches: "Here Lies Vivica J. Valentine," it reads. "October 31, 1982-March 17, 2012. Not So Bulletproof After All."

Yale: Uh...

Bryan: I was going to mention that Pierce was coming out here alone, but that's certainly... certainly foreboding.

She stops at the base of the ramp, just outside of optimal suicide dive range, slowly lifting her head. The first thing that comes out of shadow is that thin smile staining her lips, almost but not quite a smirk.

It's the rest of it that's a problem.

Because those eyes are green.

Bryan: That's Quinn! Viv turns -- the cameraman! Springboard! SPIDER'S KISS! Valentine goes head over heels to the outside!

Amy stalks forward, eyebrows arched as she comes face-to-face with the Spider. (Or rather face-to-chest, because Campbell is way short, but that glare makes up for it.) True to the in-depth interview conducted by her daughter, Alex is wearing some new gear, which we see as she strips off the black tee that our cameramen wear. It's dark pants and a black-and-purple tanktop with some spider's web designs along her chest, and she smirks, lifting both hands and retreating into a corner. Do you read lips? Then you know she just said, "Ring the bell".

Amy shakes her head.

Bryan: Campbell won't ring the bell! Alex with another damn Pearl Harbor job, and she wanted an easy countout win while Viv recovered, but Amy refuses to start this match!

Yale: Can a referee do that?

Bryan: Campbell slides to the outside--

Yale: She's HELPING VIV UP! How can you not say she's biased?

Bryan: Viv waves Amy off, holding her jaw. That knee brace --

Yale: Oy, again with the knee brace?

Quinn (who also lost the robe, and is still wearing those ridiculously tight jeans and "Who Needs Big Tits"/"When You've Got An Ass Like This" tee we've seen throughout the night) pounds on the apron, shouting up at Amy. "Come on!"

Bryan: Another headshake! Pierce across the ring and up to the top rope! Valentine... I don't think Viv sees her! Pierce leaps -- DROPKICK BY VIVICA VALENTINE! She caught Pierce in the mush on the way down! Viv pounding on the apron! This crowd is dying for her already and this match hasn't even started yet! Pierce rolling up onto her hands and knees and -- BAM! SHINING WIZARD BY VIVICA VALENTINE!

Yale: How is this fair? The match hasn't even started yet!

Bryan: Viv still feeling that Spider's Kiss! She's slow to toss Alex in! Amy with an anguished look on her face, but she still won't ring the bell! Viv up to the apron! She slaps the turnbuckle! Could it be time for the Second City Air Raid already? That double rotation shooting star press--she leaps up to the top!

Yale: AIMZ!

Bryan: Amy placing herself between Pierce and Valentine!

Yale: So she IS on Pierce's side.

Bryan: She's just pointing out to Viv that the match hasn't started yet. Just like she wouldn't let Alex have the cheap countout win. Meanwhile, Quinn! Quinn rolling her mother out of the line of fire! Pierce scrambles back in the corner! Viv hops down, and--

Yale: Finally!

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Bryan: Amy calls for the bell, and we are underway!

Yale: Hey, look, we might actually get through this yet.

Bryan: Viv nudges Aimz out of the way--

Yale: Disqualify her!

Bryan: Corner dropkick stands up Alex in the corner! Viv up to her feet again quickly! Off the ropes -- Yakuza kick dodged! Pierce dive-rolls out of the way! Viv gets hung up for a moment, and when she turns--superkick! Viv down!

Yale: Viv up!

Bryan: Valentine rolls up to her knees almost immediately! Viv using the ropes to--

The second kick is louder, echoing in the arena. Viv's head snaps back. Amy winces.

Bryan: Low-flying superkick by Pierce! Valentine down! Alex with her first cover! Amy slides into position!



ONE!!




TWO!!




KICKOUT!!


Bryan: Clean kickout -- and, I might add, a picture-perfect count from Aimz!

Yale: Yeah, yeah. She's still thinking with her head now. We'll see what happens when her temper gets the better of her.

Bryan: Alex pulling up Viv by the hair--Valentine with the hard shove away! Pierce backtracks, but not for long! Alex leads in with a hard kick to the chest, and that gives her the opening to pull Viv up! And--

Yale: An arm-wringer?

Bryan: Alexandra Pierce with an arm-wringer on Vivica J. Valentine! I don't think we could've predicted this!

That's when the kicks start.

Bryan: Oh! Alex raining in kicks to Vivica J. Valentine's chest! One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Valentine down to one knee, and Pierce is cranking on the arm! Viv reaching with her other hand! Alex steps over the arm and pulls! Viv a fingertip away! Alex leaning back!

Yale: The human elbow is not meant to bend that way!

Bryan: Aimz right there! Amy right there, asking if Viv wants to give up! But you'd have to kill her! You'd have to kill Vivica Valentine to make her give up! Viv -- reaches the ropes! Aimz shifts position, laying the count down on her own lover! One! Two! Three! Four! Fi--Pierce lets go at the last second! Amy backing Alex up as Viv tries to shake some sensation back into her arm!

Yale; Get out of the way!

Bryan: Alex nudges Amy aside--bicycle kick to the back of the head! Viv stumbles out--Alex hooks the arms! Mastermind? No! Viv pushes off! Alex! Pierce draws up short before she collides with Aimz! Viv up to her feet--running leg lariat to the back of the distracted Spider's head! Aimz drops flat and Alex stumbles over! Viv up to her feet again! She charges! SLING BLADE!

Yale: It's hard to say which of these two is faster.

Bryan: Viv using the middle rope to pull herself up, but clearly that left arm is still bothering her! She grabs a handful of Alex's hair and now it's Viv who's laying in the kicks! One after another after another! But Alex won't go down! Pierce bends backwards, holding herself up with one hand!

Vivica stands over her kneeling opponent, glancing at Aimz, who's leaned in the ropes and watching in horror. "Enough?" she asks.

Bryan: Pierce just spat at Valentine! Viv off the ropes! DOUBLE KNEES TO THE FACE! Alex Pierce has been broken in half! Viv up -- standing moonsault with a twist! She hooks the leg!


ONE!!







TWO!!







Bryan: No! Alex got the shoulder up! Again, it should be pointed out that Amy didn't hedge on her count, this time AGAINST Desade!

Yale: I remain skeptical.

Bryan: Valentine waiting on Pierce now! She's waiting on Alex! She's waiting--REPENTANCE!

Yale: Ducked!

Bryan: Pierce up! Flying dropkick to the back sends Valentine face-first to the canvas! What's she gonna do now?

Yale: Something painful.

Bryan: Pierce pulling out Valentine's left arm! She's yanking it away from Viv's body! Alexandra targeting Valentine's arm! Alex--a handstand! Pierce with the perfect form on the headstand, and she's making Viv think about it here! She's making -- double-knees to the elbow! That brace comes into play again!

Yale: Ow.

Bryan: Pierce pivots up to her feet quickly! Now she stands on the back of both of Valentine's knees! Pierce reaching for the arm again! Hard slaps to the ribs pull the arm away! Alex with both arms now--she rocks back--Romero special! Alexandra Pierce keeping Vivica Valentine up in the air with that great leg strength! Campbell down--she checks the shoulders to make sure Alex's shoulder isn't down! Pierce pulls Viv backwards by the hair!

Yale: Holy crap.

Bryan: Dragon sleeper! Elevated dragon sleeper by Alexandra Pierce! Pierce pulling out the real wrestling here!

Yale: You say that like she's not the best wrestler in the world.

Bryan: When you think Desade, you think nightmarish flying moves, not twisting her opponent into a pretzel! Viv gets her leg free! She rocks down onto Pierce's shoulders! Cover!




ONE!!









TWO!!






TH--


Bryan: Viv forces Pierce to let go of the hold! But Alex isn't done yet! She slides to the outside, pulling Valentine halfway out of the ring! Pierce with hold of the head! Alex trying the hangman's DDT off the apron? Viv with the kick-spin on her stomach! She lands on the outside! Kick to the midsection by Pierce! Front face lock again! No!


THHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!!


Bryan: VALENTINE WITH A NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX INTO THE STEPS!

Yale: Pierce might be dead.

Bryan: Valentine down! Pierce down!

Yale: Does Amy know she's supposed to count?

Bryan: Does Aimz want to count?

It's with much reluctance that Aimz stays in the ring while two of the people she cares about most in the world writhe in pain, making the slowest count imaginable.


"ONE!"


Yale: So she is going to go through with it.

Bryan: Pierce still folded up like an accordion! Viv up to her feet! She charges at Pierce--baseball slide into the steps! Alex's head gets sandwiched! Valentine throws Pierce back into the ring!

Yale: Aimz didn't even get to two.

Bryan: Valentine slides in afterwards! Viv with a running start -- up to the turnbuckle no hands! CORKSCREW MOONSAULT DOWN! She just makes it look so effortless!

Yale: Because she's used to being high.

Bryan: She's straight edge!

Yale: I'm just saying what I've heard.

Bryan: No cover from Valentine, she comes back up to her feet! Pulls Pierce with her! Viv hooks the head swings the leg--SIREN'S SONG! NOW the cover!




ONE!!





TWO!!





Yale: Foot on the ropes!

Bryan: Quinn put the foot there!

Yale: I didn't see that.

Bryan: Neither did Aimz! Amy's inexperience with a referee taken advantage of by a girl who's practically her niece! Viv up, fires a kick at the ropes to back the girl up! Viv up and DOWN with a snapping legdrop! Rolls over, drops the leg again! Rolls backwards--twisting legdrop! Great series of moves from the Fearless Phenom! Another cover!



ONE!!






TWO!!!






Yale: Shoulder up! Shoulder up!

Bryan: Valentine pouring it on here! She pulls Alex up and shoves her into the corner! Valentine with a corner-to-corner charge! Big forearm into the corner! She's perpetual motion! Across to the other corner again--

This time, the velocity is almost unconscionable. This time, she's going for the knockout shot. This time, Quinn grabs her mother by the back of her tights and yanks her out of the way.

Bryan: Quinn AGAIN! Quinn pulls her mother out of the way! Viv goes flying outside the ring! Viv with a nasty spill out on the floor! Aimz to the floor! She gets in Quinn's face! Oh, and she's saying she didn't do anything!

Yale: Maybe she didn't!

Bryan: You just saw her! Quinn quickly becoming one of the lowest people on this roster!

Yale: If she keeps wearing jeans that make her ass look like that, I'm not sure I care.

Bryan: Valentine down, Pierce trying to get her bearings, and Aimz is backing Quinn down the ramp!

Yale: But she didn't do the ejection hand.

Bryan: Quinn backing away with her hands up! Pierce rolls to the outside of the ring and--oh! She forcibly evicts Joey Andrews from his chair! Alex with the chair! Quinn is keeping Amy's attention on her! Alex--

"THHHHHHWWWWWAAAAAACCCCK!!"

Bryan: Pierce skateboards the chair into the side of Valentine's head! She stands the chair up! Pierce picks Viv up! Belly-to-back suplex? No! Pierce reverses it and drops--drops Viv ribs first across the chair!

Yale: And now Amy turns!

Bryan: Amy Campbell is not a trained referee! Even if she was, Alexandra Pierce might be the sneakiest person in this federation, and that includes Triumph Frost.

Yale: Hey! That's our champion you're talking about.

Bryan: Amy demanding that Pierce get Valentine back into the ring! Viv tossed back in, and Pierce comes in afterwards! Quinn sneaking back to ringside, Amy with a quick glance that way--and I think that Pierce just unraveled some of the tape around her hand! Pierce wraps on a sleeper hold, but there's some damn tape under there! Amy! Amy!

Yale: Don't get involved, JB!

Bryan: Alex with a body scissors! Pierce is... how could she do this? How could she intentionally--that's her girlfriend, and she's cheating blatantly right in front of her!

Yale: Amy checking for a choke, but she's looking in the wrong place!

Bryan: Viv's eyes bulging out! Valentine trying to scoot, trying to roll! Trying to do anything!

"PLEASE DON'T TAP! PLEASE DON'T TAP! PLEASE DON'T TAP!"

Bryan: Quinn banging her hands against the ring apron! She's beside herself! Valentine rolls over! She lunges--

"RRRRAAAAAAAHHHH!!"

Bryan: She's got the ropes! Make her break the hold, Aimz! Make her break the hold!

Amy steps in, laying down the count. Again, Pierce breaks on four and about nine-tenths. Viv rolls to the outside, Alex comes up to her feet.

And Amy sees the tape dangling from her wrist.

Bryan: Aimz figured it out! Campbell rips the tape off Alex's wrist!

She steps in tight and there's shouting and then there's SHOUTING.

Bryan: Campbell and Pierce! Campbell and Pierce face-to-face!

Yale: Meanwhile outside!

Bryan: Quinn creeping up on Viv! Quinn creeping up on Viv! Valentine turns--

Quinn squeaks.

Yale: Careful!

Bryan: Gregory falls backwards to that... that derriere she's so proud of!

Yale: I'm proud of it, too!

Bryan: Valentine up to the apron! She leaps to the top!

It's instinct. Amy sees Vivica coming and moves her lover out of the way. Maybe she meant to, maybe she didn't, but we can't ask her because that flying clothesline hits Aimz instead.

Bryan: Valentine wipes out Aimz!

Yale: Only because Aimz saved Desade!

Bryan: Viv certainly doesn't seem like she meant to! She stops and looks at Campbell! Pierce from behind again! Waistlock--reversal! German suplex! No bridge because the referee is outside the ring!

Valentine slides out to help Aimz up. The little redhead shoves her away, holding the back of her head from her nasty landing. "I'm sorry!" says Valentine. "I didn't mean to--why did you help her?" "I didn't mean to, either!" Amy retorts.

Only they use slightly stronger words than that.

Bryan: Now Valentine and Campbell having words! We saw them in an impressive tag team performance a couple of weeks ago against Alexander Redding and Phillip Kennedy! Aimz gestures back into the ring! Pierce is getting up! Alex charges! Suicide--GAMENGIRI BY VALENTINE! Kick square to the face of the Spider!

Yale: Those feet are so fast.

Bryan: Valentine into the ring! Valentine into the ring! She pulls up Pierce--kick to the midsection!

The crowd gasps.

Bryan: THE RED LINE! VALENTINE HIT PIERCE WITH CHRISTIAN ZENITH'S RED LINE!

Yale: Does that mean something?

Bryan: Maybe a message to Zenith for making this match? Valentine with the cover! Aimz scrambling across the ring!



ONEEEE!!!










TWO!!!!!!








THR--


Yale: She got a shoulder up!

Bryan: Viv looking at Aimz like she can't believe it, but the little redhead holds up two fingers! Viv swipes her fingers through her hair!

Yale: What's she gonna have to do to put away Pierce?

Bryan: Pierce still dazed! Valentine up to her feet!

The Bulletproof Blonde holds a heart over her head and breaks it.

Bryan: She calls for the End of Heartache! That running front-flip piledriver! Viv charges--Alex! Reversal! Reversal! She stands with Viv across her back! AIR RAID CRASH!

Yale: Not very many people Alex Pierce can throw muscle moves at.

Bryan: Alex up to the top turnbuckle! Moonsault? No! LAYOUT MOONSAULT DOUBLE STOMP! THE STAKE TO THE HEART BY ALEXANDRA PIERCE! Valentine's chest cavity just got crushed!

Yale: Cover her!

Bryan: Pierce a little slow on the cover -- maybe that knee is still bugging her! She drapes an arm over the top! Aimz slides in!



ONE!!!











TWO!!!!










THREE---"RAAAAAHHHHH!!"


Bryan: VALENTINE KICKED OUT!

Yale: Now it's Alex who seems to be wondering if she can put VIV away!

Pierce bangs a closed fist against the mat.

Bryan: Uncharacteristic frustration from the Spider in the Web! And now--

It's the same heart overhead symbol we just saw, but from a different person.

Bryan: Alex calls for the End of Heartache! She's going to try to beat Valentine with her own move! Alex charges--no! She telegraphed it a little! Valentine with a back body drop! Pierce lands on her feet! Blind crescent kick--ducked by Viv!

Yale: But not by Aimz!

Bryan: The kick sends Campbell flying to the outside! Now it's Alex that's surprised! Viv with the inverted face lock! She grabs Pierce's tights! Not sure what she's going for here but Alex floats over! Split-legged chinbreaker by Pierce!

Yale: What's Quinn doing up there?

Bryan: Quinn up to the top! We've seen a leaping DDT from her before--no! FLYING DIVORCE COURT BY QUINN GREGORY!

Yale: That's the arm! That's the arm Pierce had targeted earlier!

Bryan: Dammit, no! Not like this! Aimz shaking off the cobwebs! She has no idea what happened! Quinn shouting at the fans to be quiet!

Yale: This is brilliant!

Bryan: It's another b-word, I'd say. Pierce scoots under the bottom rope! She's waiting for Viv! Viv up by the ropes! She grabs the top rope with her bad arm--Pierce! Springboard double-stomp to the same arm!

Yale: Time to go to school.

Bryan: Aimz finally in the ring! Pierce rolls Valentine over--the short arm scissors! The short-arm scissors! There's been a concerted effort to attack that arm! Can she hold on? Can she hold on? Quinn right there! Quinn shouting at Valentine to tap!

"VIV! VIV! VIV! VIV! VIV! VIV!"

Bryan: Aimz in position! Aimz asking Valentine if she wants to give up! That little hellspawn of Pierce's might have injured Valentine's shoulder! Now Alex with the short-arm scissors! Viv again forced to reach for the ropes! How much can she have left? How much does Vivica J. Valentine have left!

Yale: I really doubt her tank is on E yet.

Bryan: Viv can't get to the ropes! Viv is trying--shoulders down!



ONE!!




Bryan: She gets her shoulder up! Astute refereeing there by Aimz! Valentine using those strong legs to try to roll up! She's got it! She's got Pierce stacked up!



ONE!!!










TWO!!!








Bryan: Alex swings her back down! Back to the short arm scissors! But this time Valentine is close enough to the ring ropes to get her toe on them! Aimz forced to call for the break!

Yale: That's a lucky break for Vivica. She's basically got one arm here, JB!

Bryan: Alex slides to the outside! Quinn and her mother digging under the ring! Ohhhh, they've got a table! Pierce and Gregory slide a table in! Aimz looks right at it, but... I don't think she's going to do anything? Pierce into the ring to set it up! She gets one leg set up--

WHACK!

Bryan: But not the other! Repentance! Valentine sneaks the step-up enzugiri in! But she can't follow up! Pierce is down! Valentine is down! Aimz is the only one up, and she doesn't have a damn clue what she should be doing!

Yale: Count, you dumb Canadian!

"ONE!"

Bryan: Maybe she heard you?

"TWO!"

Bryan: Both Pierce and Valentine have a ten count they have to answer in order to--

And then Amy stops counting.

Yale: Wait, what?

She shakes her head. Retreats into a corner. Folds her arms.

Bryan: Amy's not going to count! She's not going to let the match end that way!

Yale: Can she do that?

Bryan: She's the referee! Pierce pulling herself up! Valentine up, her left arm cradled against her chest! Viv charges--Cactus Jack clothesline sends both of them over the top to the floor at ringside!

Yale: And STILL Aimz won't count!

Bryan: She's not going to let them get counted out! Amy wants this settled! She'll never have peace if they're always at war! Vivica up! Valentine up again and she's waiting on Pierce!

Yale: It doesn't have to be like this!

Bryan: Viv didn't want this! Viv didn't ASK for this! But she's damn sure going to finish it! Viv waiting for Pierce and -- SUPERKICK! Alex knocked up against the guardrail! Viv chases after -- SHE LEAPS INTO THE CROWD WITH A GUILLOTINE! Pierce goes throat-first across the guardrail!

Yale: Now what's she doing?

Bryan: Valentine up on the floor! She pulls Pierce up to her feet! HEAD KICK! Head kick spins Pierce around! Viv hooks the belly-to-back suplex! She sets Alex down on the corner of the guardrails! Viv is out on her feet! Valentine charges--SHOCK AND--

"AWWWWWWWW!"

Bryan: POWERBOMB BY PIERCE ONTO THE RINGSTEPS!

Yale: I think they're both dead.

Bryan: Valentine down! Pierce down! Aimz watching helplessly from the ring as her lover and her best friend beat the damn hell out of each other!

Yale: And they're both only going to have the World Title match to rest before they both compete in Dangerous Games!

Bryan: Quinn at her mother's side! Alex rolls over! She picks up Valentine--jumping knee strike by Desade knocks Viv back against the apron! Alex slides into the ring! She bends down to grab Viv and pull her onto the apron! Front facelock! Pierce pulls Valentine across the middle rope! Hangman's DDT--no! Hangman's neckbreaker--

Yale: She's slippery like an eel!

Bryan: Viv kicks off the rope! She lands in the ring, but takes the twist with her! Inverted facelock! Twists her down!

Yale: That's... that's Freetekno, isn't it?

Bryan: That's Aimz' move! Valentine just stuck Pierce in the mat with Aimz' own move! Valentine setting up that table in the corner! She throws Pierce on!

Yale: Viv looking for an exclamation point here!

Bryan: Viv to the outside! Viv climbs the turnbuckles! But there's Quinn! There's Quinn again! She grabs Valentine's ankle! She has no business--

Yale: That's her MOTHER. I think that makes it her business.

Bryan: But Viv reaches down! Viv pulls Quinn up onto the apron! She--

Yale: Oh, NOW she decides she's going to referee?

Bryan: Aimz over to physically separate Valentine and Gregory! She orders Quinn back to a neutral corner and tells Viv to focus on Alex!

To her credit, Vivica lets the girl go willingly, lifting both hands.

Bryan: Viv bounds back up to the top, but--Alex! Leaping enzugiri! That brief distraction might have cost Valentine! Pierce arranges her legs the way she wants them and backs up! Running start! She vaults the table in stride and leaps! SPLIT-LEGGED ONE-MAN SPANISH FLY THROUGH THE TABLE!!!!

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

Yale: What they said!

Bryan: Alex drapes an arm over! This has GOT TO be it!!








ONNNNNNNNE!!!!!!














TWWWWWWWWWWWWWO!!!!!!!!!





















THREEEEEEEEEEE---

The only person in the building with three fingers raised is Quinn. Everybody else is busy losing their damn minds.


"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


Bryan: VIV KICKED OUT! VIVICA J. VALENTINE SOMEHOW, SOMEHOW KICKED OUT!

Yale: How?!

Bryan: I think Pierce is wondering the exact same thing!

Desade swipes the damp hair from her face, staring bug-eyed at the two fingers held up by the Red Raver. If we're being honest, Amy's surprised, too.

Bryan: Alex gets to her feet slowly, and I don't think I've ever seen her look like she doesn't know what comes next! The self-proclaimed "Best Wrestler in the World" has thrown just about every bomb and every dirty trick she knows at Vivica J. Valentine, but she can't put her away!

With one more (frankly dumbfounded) look down at the Fearless Phenom, the Spider slides out of the ring. She forcibly evicts Joey Andrews from his seat and brings the chair into the ring.

Bryan: Pierce with the chair now! She sets it up in the middle of the ring and yanks Viv up by the hair! Alex chickenwings the arms--Mastermind onto the chair? No! Viv pushes her off!

Yale: Whoa!

Bryan: Alex AGAIN barely able to keep from plowing into Aimz! Valentine--OH! REVERSE HURRICANRANA THROUGH THE CHAIR! Alex Pierce may be out!

Yale: MAY be?

Bryan: Viv crawls over! She rolls Alex over, hooks the leg!






OOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEE!!!

















TTTTTWWWWWWWOOOOOOO!!!!!






















THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRREEEE---"AWWWWWW!"

Yale: Shoulder up! Shoulder up! Holy cow, shoulder up!

Bryan: Pierce kicks out! Now it's Viv that can't believe it!

Valentine's disappointment is almost palpable when she looks to Aimz, who shows her just how close she was.

Bryan: What a match! Both Pierce and Valentine were just centimeters away from getting the victory! Now it's Viv trying to figure out what to do--she's thrown just about her entire repertoire at Desade, and the Spider's not going down, either!

Yale: We may be here all night, JB!

Andrews: Twenty minutes have elapsed in the time limit! Five minutes remaining!

Bryan: Just five minutes left to go! Viv with her hands in her hair as she steps forward towards Alex! What's she gonna do here?

Just because the Bulletproof Blonde has exhausted her arsenal doesn't mean she's done. Not by a longshot.

Bryan: Viv ties up the Spider's legs! She rolls Pierce over--

"RRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Bryan: Into the Fool's Gallows! Lia Ambrosi's Fool's Gallows!

Yale: All that pressure is on Pierce's injured knee!

Bryan: Oh, the agony! Pierce's face contorted in pain!

"TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!"

Bryan: This sellout crowd in St. Louis all calling for Desade to give it up here! Can she hold on? Can Pierce hold on?

Yale: There's still four minutes left!

Bryan: No way can anyone withstand the Fool's Gallows for four whole minutes, Dave! Aimz right there! Amy there to ask Pierce if she wants to give it up!

Yale: What must be going through her head? That's the woman she loves!

Bryan: Pierce fighting! Alex scratching and clawing for the ropes! She's almost there! She's almost--

Yale: Valentine pulls her away!

Bryan: Viv adjusts her grip and--oh!

Yale: The brace!

Bryan: Vivica Valentine stripping off the protective brace around Desade's right knee! She tosses the thing at Quinn and cranks back on the hold!

Yale: Look how she's positioned herself between Alex and the ropes!

Bryan: Pierce is in AGONY! Amy practically BEGGING her to submit! But Pierce grabs her wrist to stop her from calling for the bell!

Yale: Her hand is hovering, JB! She can't hold on much longer!

Andrews: Three minutes remaining!

Bryan: Desade about to give in! She's about to--

Yale: Quinn!

"BOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Bryan: Quinn with the mist!

"RRRAAAAAAAAAAHH

Bryan: But Viv got the arm up! Viv manages to block the mist with her arm!

Yale: And she won't let go!

Bryan: Vivica Valentine still has the Fool's Gallows! And now she's hammering away on Pierce's knee with that free arm covered in that gunk! There's nothing Quinn can do to stop her!

Yale: She's damn sure gonna try!

Bryan: Gregory ascending the turnbuckles! She hit that a nasty flying shoulder DDT from here earlier! Aimz over to stop her!

Yale: Even Amy would disqualify her for that, right?

The crowd, already riled up, is now pretty much in a frenzy.

Bryan: PIERCE IS TAPPING! Alex is tapping like a drunken Gregory Hines, but Amy doesn't see! Turn around! Turn around, Amy!

Yale: Look out, Quinn!

Bryan: Viv releases the hold! She's going after Quinn again!

Yale: Valentine letting her temper get the best of her, JB!

Bryan: And Amy wrenches Viv away! Campbell and Valentine face to face! Viv with a shove to Aimz! Amy with a hard shove back! Tempers are flaring here!

Yale: Amy won't let Viv go after Quinn! Guess we know what side she's on!

Bryan: Amy with her hands up! She's trying to tell Viv she doesn't wanna fight! Campbell turns to the girl on the floor!

Demonstrative umpire gestures for the win.

"RRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Bryan: She's outta here! Aimz has ejected Quinn from ringside!

Yale: No!

Bryan: Yes! And the Devil's Daughter is beside herself! Quinn throwing a tantrum!

Andrews: Two minutes remaining!

Bryan: Two minutes! Aimz out to the floor to demand Quinn go back to the back!

Viv gives the girl a little wave, going back to work.

Bryan: Valentine drags Pierce back to the middle of the ring! She's going for the Gallows again! Pierce kicks her away! But Alex can barely stand! She can't even--REPENTANCE! Viv sneaks in the step-up enzugiri!

Yale: Holy hell, even I didn't see that coming!

Bryan: Vivica now--standing headscissors! The End of--

Yale: Pierce rolls through!

Bryan: Alex lands on one knee and surges up--

Alexandra's left fist collides with Viv's jaw, and Valentine topples like a felled tree.

Yale: Was there something in her hand?

Bryan: I think those were brass knucks!

Yale: Where'd they come from?

Bryan: Viv is out! Quinn points feverishly to the ring! Amy races back as Alex gets to her feet! Pierce--moonsault kneedrop! She hooks the leg--Amy never saw the knucks!



OOOONNNNNNNE!

Bryan: Not like this! Viv, kick out! C'mon!
















TWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOO!!!


Yale: Alex with her feet on the ropes for good measure!














THHHHHHRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!!!


[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, time of the fall, twenty-eight minutes, fifty-one seconds! Here is your winner -- The SPIIIIII-der in the WEB, Alexandra Pierce! DEEEEEEEEE-SSSSSAHHHHHHHD(uh!)!


"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Bryan: Oh, and Quinn in the ring to raise her mother's hand like Alex actually won a damn thing.

Yale: Uh, she kinda did?

Bryan: As far as I'm concerned, Alex Pierce should've lost that match. She tapped to Vivica J. Valentine's version of the Fool's Gallows, and it took a damn set of brass knuckles to put Viv down!

Yale: Damn shame Aimz is raising Alex's hand, then.

That's exactly what happens before Campbell and Gregory go to work reattaching that knee brace.

Bryan: Do we--fellas in the truck, tell me we've got a shot of this.

Indeed we do. Replay time. Watch Pierce slip something over the fingers of her left hand.

Bryan: There!

Jump ahead as Alex flips out of the End of Heartache. She lunges to her feet, loaded left connecting just below the ear. Viv collapses like a puppet with its strings cut, and Alex tucks the evidence into her right boot.

Bryan: There, clear as day! Pierce knocked Vivica J. Valentine out with a damn set of brass knuckles!

Yale: Yeah, and Amy didn't see jack, so it doesn't matter.

Bryan: It might matter now! We are back live here in the arena, and the replay we've just showed you just played on the MegaTron! Aimz plucks the knucks out of Pierce's boot!

Campbell is no stranger to weapons like that one, but she still looks at the thing like it's a snake that's going to bite her.

Bryan: What's she gonna do now? What's Amy going to--

"RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"

Bryan: She shoves the knucks into Pierce's chest! Alex slides out of the ring, her daughter by her side!

Yale: Why do I get the feeling that absolutely nothing has been settled here?

Amy's not looking at Alex, leaning against the ropes as Vivica rolls up onto her side behind her, one hand to the side of her face where the knucks struck.

Bryan: Alexandra Pierce and Vivica J. Valentine just went to war for a half-hour, and I'm pretty sure that they'd go right back if we'd let them, and it looks like Aimz is still caught between them!

Yale: Literally between them in this case.

Bryan: Campbell pushes off the ropes to check on Viv as Quinn mouths off at some of the fans here at ringside! What a match that was.

Yale: There is no doubt in anybody's mind that those two are two of the best in the world. It's just that one is better than the other.

Bryan: I don't know if that was settled here tonight. I bet Viv thinks she can beat her.

Yale: I'm not sure that Viv is thinking anything right now. Her eyes are glassy.

Bryan: Amy kneels beside her, looking back over her shoulder to Pierce and Quinn in the ring...

Most of the crowd misses it. The announcers sure do. Hell, even Quinn misses it, and she's standing right next to her mother. There's a moment here where Pierce and Campbell make eye contact. It's not quite a staredown, but it's close.

Bryan: Fans, this looks like a story that will continue into Dangerous Games and maybe beyond! But before we get there, we've still got the World Heavyweight Title to--

Yale: Hang on, JB, hang on.

Bryan: What?

Yale: Did you see that?

Bryan: See what?

Yale: I don't know. It feels like something's changed.

Bryan: Nothing's changed except that Quinn's going to be even more--

Amy looks back to Alex, then closes her eyes.

Yale: There! She just did it again!

Campbell helps Valentine up to her feet, letting the Bulletproof Blonde lean on her.

Bryan: Fans, we'll keep up on this story as it develops.

Amy leans in to say something, a small, sad smile on her face. Whatever it is, it wrinkles Viv's brow.

Bryan: But right now, it's time to get ready for--

Yale: I TOLD YOU!

Bryan: FREETEKNO! AIMZ WITH FREETEKNO ON VIVICA J. VALENTINE! VIV JUST GOT SPIKED!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Yale: YES!

The Red Raver comes up to her feet and looks down on her handiwork, swiping the hair out of her face.

Bryan: What the hell just happened? Why did Amy--

Yale: Who cares?

Bryan: This crowd is in shock! I am in shock! Even Quinn is in shock! Amy backtracks and slides out of the ring! What just--why would Amy do this? She was so impartial for the entire match!

Campbell snatches the United States Championship off the timekeeper table, circling the ring to meet Quinn and Alex. She stops again just before she reaches them, glancing over her shoulder to the unmoving form of her best friend. Then she steps forward into the arms of the Spider in the Web. Alex tucks her in tight, kissing the top of her head.

Bryan: I think Amy Campbell just picked her side!

Yale: The winning side!

Bryan: Pierce and Campbell -- Desade and Aimz -- DNA are reunited once more! What does this mean for Dangerous Games tonight?

Yale: A whole lot of not good, JB. A WHOLE lot of not-good.

Quinn's jubilation is an audible thing, while her mother's quiet smile is the closest most people see to her being happy.

As for Amy?

She won't look back to the ring to see what she's done.

Back to Top





Andrews: The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the GCW WOOORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAAAAMPIONSHIP...

Bryan: There may not be a whole lot of backstory or hype around this match, but with the two people involved I can guarentee that you're going to get one hell of a fight.

Yale: I don't know, Johnny Borealis' heart hasn't really seemed to be in wrestling lately. I don't know if that's because of personal problems, or if he's just realized he's not as good as Triumph Frost.

Bryan: I don't really think it's our place to speculate Dave, but I'd imag-

CALL 911 NOW!

The scream cuts through the arena like a knife, and Skrillex's "Frist of the Year" follows with a reaction that hasn't exactly been the norm lately... cheers. Mixed with cheers, but mostly cheers. As the bass drops Johnny Borealis walks into the arena, himself surprised by the crowd's support as he looks out across the masses.

Bryan: It's amazing what facing Triumph Frost can do to a crowd's perception of a man.

Yale: Or maybe time apart makes the heart grow fonder?

Bryan: We don't know exactly what has been keeping Johnny Borealis off of GCW television, Dave, but we can only assume that it's very personal and very important to both Johnny and his family.

Yale: Or that he's a coward.

Bryan: We've known Johnny Borealis for a long time, and we've known him as a lot of things, but he isn't the type of guy to just not show up on television. He loves television. He loves attention. Something has been wrong but tonight it doesn't matter. Tonight he is here for his opportunity to become the GCW World Heavyweight Champion.

Clad in black baggy cargo pants, black Doc Martens, and a pair of Oakley's, Johnny Borealis begins his walk down towards the ring with a signature swagger. He makes the discount double-check motion around his waist as he struts down to the ring with a smirk across his face.

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

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

Sliding into the ring, he walks right past Joey Andrews to the far corner where he cracks his neck and turns around, ready to achieve his dream of winning the big one. Tonight could be his night.

NEXT WORLD CHAMP! NEXT WORLD CHAMP!

Bryan: I have to say the crowd support is kind of shocking here, don't you think, Dave?

Yale: I'd like to think that flatters Triumph Frost.

"What Does Your Soul Look Like (Part 2)" by DJ Shadow plays over the arena and that support immediately turns into pure, unfiltered hatred. The lights in the arena turn to a dark blue as signature blond hair and blue eyes appear up in the entrance. A golden championship belt shimmering in the spotlight on his shoulder and an arrogant smirk on his face.

Bryan: There his is, the GCW World Champion.

Yale: All hail the king, baby.

He has a swagger in his step that lets the world know that it's his and a smile on his face that shows he couldn't care less what anyone else thought about it. He was more like the man staring back at him in the ring than either of them would admit, but the difference was Triumph Frost knew he was championship material. He could prove it by simply lifting the belt off his shoulder, which he does just to prove a point.

Andrews: And his opponent, weighing in at 256 pounds and hailing from Pacific Heights, San Francisco, California... he is the GCW WOOOORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAAAAMPION, TRIUMMMPH FROST!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The champion walks up the stairs, sizing up the "competition" before stepping through the ropes. Once inside, you can see him ask Joey Andrews a question that gets lost in the music before the announcer tries to get the championship belt from him but is met with a shove. Joey looks back at Frost with confusion before he simply demands that Joey leaves his ring.

Bryan: The complete lack of respect Triumph Frost has shown to Global Championship Wrestling as a whole since coming here is sickening. The man was in charge of this company, and thank God he isn't any more, and still seemingly couldn't care less about the success of this company or it's fans. The man is out for one thing and one thing only, the success of Triumph Frost.

Yale: And to get to the top around here that's exactly what you have to do. Look out for number one, and he is without a doubt, number one.

Reluctantly Josh Briggs walks over to Triumph Frost, still posturing in his corner, and asks for the championship belt. Frost looks down at his title and shoves it into the chest of the referee, who then turns around and hands it over to Joey Andrews who sheepishly walks towards the center of the ring.

Yale: You were supposed to leave his ring!

Joey Andrews lifts the biggest prize in Global Championship Wrestling above his head for the entire world to see, Borealis is practically salivating in the corner as Triumph Frost merely glances at his opponent before heading back into his corner. Looking over towards the broadcast station, Triumph can be heard yelling "I have something to say."

DING! DING! DING!

Borealis fires out of his corner for his one-shot at becoming the champion. His first assault however, is blocked immediately by GCW Official Josh Briggs, who stands between Borealis and Frost as Triumph ducks his torso between the ropes legally breaking any kind of contact. As Borealis argues with the referee Frost calls to Joey Andrews with a microphone, who then regretably gives the champion his wish.

As Borealis raises his arms in frustration on the other side of Josh Briggs, Triumph Frost raises the microphone to his lips to a chorus of jeers from the crowd.

Frost: I'll get to kicking this guys' teeth in in a minute, but before that I have something to say.

Bryan: I think you've said enough here tonight, Triumph.

Yale: Show some respect to the champion, JB! He's got something on his mind!

Bryan: The man has been running his mouth all night long, what can he possibly have left to say that he didn't get across earlier?

Triumph Frost holds his index finger into the air as if telling the crowd to give him a minute.

Frost: Hey, I just wanted to take a minute to thank Johnny Borealis... if I remembered your name correctly, for taking the time to actually show up to a GCW show tonight. I know it's hard to find the time to do the job you get paid for, and I know it's hard showing up to work every night when you know you're just going to lose, but for at least the first time I can remember, Johnny has had the balls to step into the ring with me and actually participate in an eve-

BAM!

The crowd roars as the only sound that follows is that of a live microphone bouncing off the canvas.

Bryan: TRIUMPH FROST JUST GOT LIT UP!

Yale: HE WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF TRYING TO SAY SOMETHING! WHAT A CHEAP SHOT!

Bryan: COVER HIM JOHNNY! COVER HIM!

The arena is shaking with excitement as Borealis leaps onto the seemingly lifeless body of the champion, hooking the leg, Johnny Borealis looks up at the referee as the crowd counts along with him.

ONE!

TWO!









THREE!

DING! DING! DING!


Yale: NO! NO! NO!

Bryan: New champion! New champion! Can you believe that Dave?!

Yale: NO! NOOOOOOOOOO!

CALL 911 NOW!

Johnny Borealis jumps off of the champion and runs over to the corner as the crowd goes insane. Jumping up onto the top rope Borealis raises his arms in excitement, relishing in this unforgettable moment. Behind him now Josh Briggs waits with the championship while Triumph Frost now has his eyes open, staring up at the lights in complete shock. Jumping down off the top rope, Borealis grabs the championship away from Briggs who then lifts his arm into the air.

Andrews: The winner of this match, and NEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW GCW World Heavyweight Champion, JOOOOOOOHNNNNNY BOREEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLISSSSSSSS!

Borealis falls to his knees and looks at his reflection in the championship with a smirk across his face as Triumph Frost rolls out of the ring embarassed. It doesn't take long for the two to make eye-contact where Borealis lifts the championship in a show of victory, Frost reacts by waving the new champion off and walking away as if he never cared in the first place.

Bryan: The winner of Dangerous Games is going to have to face a new champ!

Yale: Did this match even start?! Is this legal?!

Bryan: I heard the bell, Borealis heard the bell, and that's all that matters.

Yale: I demand a rematch! Triumph clearly wasn't ready to start the match! He was ambushed! Cheap shotted!

Bryan: And that's different than how Triumph would've won the match... how?

Yale: Not the point.

Bryan: There is clearly no winning with you, Dave. This crowd is going to have to calm down though, because as exciting as that was... the most exciting match on the planet is coming up next. The Dangerous Games Battle Royal will determine who will face Johnny Borealis for the GCW World Heavyweight Championship, and it's next!

Back to Top





You can feel the anticipation building. A crowd, already amped, growing increasingly restless.

Bryan: Folks, it’s the moment we’ve been waiting for.

Yale: Oh man, you know it!

Bryan: We’ve had a heckuva show so far, with an American Dream handed out and two brand new champions crowned. But all that pales in comparison to what we have in store. One person will go down in the annals of history alongside legends like Vivica J. Valentine, Jay Terror, and Andy Murray.

Yale: It’s time for Dangerous Games, baby!

Bryan: This is our ninth time holding this event, and it’s produced so many GCW stars, I’ve lost count.

Yale: Guys like Bryan Mayhem, LeStatt Knight, Garbage Bag Johnny, Triumph Frost, and even Chris Bagwell have either began or solidified their status as all-world stars in this contest.

Bryan: We have a shorter field in the past, though. Only 25 instead of the customary 30 that we’ve been accustomed to. But just because there are less people involved doesn’t make it any less exciting of a match.

Yale: If they had 50 or five, it’d still be my favorite match of the year.

Bryan: I suppose now’s a good as time as any to ask. Who do you have as walking out as Dangerous Games winner?

Yale: I have to go with Rasa. I mean, outside of Bryan Mayhem, I don’t think I’ve seen a more imposing figure. How the heck’re you gonna throw a guy that’s over 7 feet tall and weighs as much as a Fiat over the top rope?

Bryan: Point.

Yale: So, not like I care or anything, but who do you have?

Bryan: Well, I’m going with my own dark horse candidate. I think this is the year that Vivica J. Valentine becomes the first-ever two-time winner of Dangerous Games.

Yale: Yikes. Hope you don’t have money on that one.

Bryan: I do not. Anyway, let’s hand it over to Joey Andrews for the introduction.

In the ring, in his snazzy little tuxedo, is ring announcer Joey Andrews, with cards in one hand and a microphone in the other.

Andrews: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for Dangerous Games!

The crowd howls with delight, as Andrews cracks a smile.

Andrews: 25 participants will enter the ring, with the last person in the ring going on to headline NC-17! The entries are already drawn, and the first two wrestlers will begin the match, with another entering every two minutes until all 25 have come into the ring.

All five GCW referees head down to ringside, taking their places in their designated zones.

Andrews: A wrestler is eliminated only when they go over the top rope and any part of their body touches the arena floor. This will continue until only one person is left standing in the ring, where they will be guaranteed a World Heavyweight championship match at NC-17!

The crowd applauds, and Andrews exits the ring. The crowd seems to go silent, as the hum of deafness hangs over the arena.

Bryan: Folks, this is what you paid your hard-earned money for. Let’s see who is number one at Dangerous Games 2012?

As the hum seems to dissipate, in anticipation of the first entrant…














Bryan: Oh my God, Tempest! After all this time!

Yale: Are you kidding me? Not nearly long enough.

Bryan: Oh stow it, this crowd is overjoyed to see the tiny former TV champ. She retired with what we thought was career ending injury after Dangerous games in November 2010, but now, wait a minute…

Yale: Yeah who’s that tank with her?

Up on the stage, Tempest’s joyous dancing, skipping, waving, blowing of kisses and general celebration has been joined by a huge man, nearly as wide as he is tall at first glance. His hair is short, dark and curly and his skin a light shade of tan that doesn’t look like it came from a can. His grin is as broad and warm as Tempest’s and he looks a little star struck gazing about the arena at all those people.

Bryan: I don’t know, but he looks like he’s dressed to wrestle and she doesn’t.

Yale: Oh brother. Let the games begin!

Indeed, Tempest is resplendent in shiny black leggings and tall purple combat boots, and a short dress of purple and black tartan with a shiny black cinch waist. The man with her is dressed in soccer shorts, white with a green band down each side. She motions to him and they head to the ring slapping hands and receiving an enthusiastic if somewhat confused response.

Yale: The crowd doesn’t quite know what to make of this scene and I’m not sure I do either Dave, it’s…

Bryan: Wait a minute! I know who that is! That’s Frankie Valleta, Tempest’s protégé.

Yale: Tempest had a protégé? Tempest had a super-sized protégé? That’s… different.

Bryan: Yes. If you’d kept up, you’d know that.

Tempest dashes up the steps and into the ring, spinning about to the cheers of the crowd, all smiles and bubbling joy. She leaps up to each corner to wave the crowd and then comes to the center and looks around, that look in her eye that is so familiar: mischief. She sticks the tip of her index finger into her mouth and then raises it, looking about, as the man steps up to the apron.

Yale: What the hell?

Bryan: Oh, use your brain for once. Change in the wind? Look at her, she’s not here to wrestle and her protégé is.

Slowly but surely the crowd catches on as well and the applause swells, perhaps not so much for the new and untested talent, but for the recognition that this is Tempest’s blessing. Frankie Valleta steps through GCW ropes for the first time and raises his hands to the crowd. Tempest hugs him and raises his hand, or rather attempts to since he stands 6’6" and she has to hop to try and raise his hand over her own head. She exits the ring, her smile solid if slightly softened by moist eyes.

Bryan: What a way to start off Dangerous Games…

Yale: Yeah, a lame way.

Bryan: (sigh) I was about to say highly charged and emotional. That had to be very difficult for Tempest, to pass the torch at one of the biggest events in the wrestling world, the very event where her own career ended. But it’s clearly not about her, it’s about letting go and making the next generation great. Not many people can do that.

Yale: Yeah, it makes me wanna puke. Well, I dunno, I’ll be interested to see what this

Valleta kid can do. He’s a tank and he’s trained by Tempest. He’s either a complete wuss or something very … strange.

Bryan: Well, let’s see who he’ll be going up against from the get-go. Who drew number two?














BREATHE

Bryan: Oh wow! If there’s anyone that’s ever had more terrible luck with Dangerous Games entry spots, I’d like to meet him.

Chris Bagwell appears at the entry way, and the crowd lets it known that they’re still mixed about the man from Jersey. It’s mostly boos, though, ‘cause, you know…it’s still Shane.

Yale: Bagwell’s been a bit of a mystery in GCW lately, but the guy is still one of the better technical wrestlers there is. Even though I may never know how he manages to maneuver like he does in jeans.

Bryan: Well, denim or not, Bagwell is still a dangerous guy to go up against. And Valleta, being as inexperienced as he is, couldn’t have hoped for a worse opponent right out of the gate.

Bagwell takes his time getting to the ring, and when he spots Tempest, he offers up a tepid smile before jumping into the ring.

Bryan: Bagwell and Tempest certainly have a bit of history in GCW.

Yale: Bagwell’s been with this company practically since the beginning. Who doesn’t he have history with?

When Bagwell first looks at Valleta, he scoffs, which ruffles the feathers of the youngster something fierce. Bagwell pays him no attention, instead climbing the turnbuckle and raising his fists in the air, to a reaction best described as "miscellaneous."

Bryan: It’s amazing to think that Bagwell has been around for so long, and still has yet to get himself a championship belt. But tonight might be the first step in that conquest.

Bagwell jumps off the turnbuckle and walks right up to Valleta, who’s fists are clenched and ready to be thrown.

Yale: He’s had more steps than a marathoner in that case. I wouldn’t hold my breath or anything.

Bryan: Well, nonetheless, Bagwell’s experience says he has the distinct advantage right now.

Yale: We’ll see soon enough.

Valleta and Bagwell stare each other down. But just as the bell rings and they get ready to mix it up, there’s commotion in the crowd. The murmuring turns to cheering just as fast.

Bryan: What’s going on…wait. Is that…?

Sure enough, walking through the crowd to two empty seats in the front row is none other than…

Bryan: That’s Jay Terror! Jay Terror, former World champ and Dangerous Games winner is in attendance!

Terror, carrying popcorn and drinks, traverses the steps alongside his gal Maggie to his seats, as fans howl.

Yale: You think he’s come to scout for a comeback?

Bryan: I think he’s just here to enjoy the festivities, Dave. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be here?

Yale: I dunno. Actors. Anyone famous. People with lives. People who work for a living.

Bryan: Okay.

Yale: Guys with girlfriends. Guys with wives. Women in general.

Bryan: I get it, Dave! Enough!

Anyway, Terror and Maggie find their seats, as the crowd starts up a chant for Terror. Terror, bandana still affixed to his face, stands up and acknowledges the crowd with a wave of the hand, as they applaud in response.

Bryan: Well, that was something else.

As Valleta remains eyes-on Terror, Bagwell takes the opportunity to catch the youngster napping and floor him with a hard right.

Bryan: And here we go!

Yale: Bagwell’s a veteran of these matches, still holding the longest endurance record in DG history at over an hour and fifteen minutes.

Bryan: But it’s been awhile since Bagwell’s been in a ring. Will he show signs of rust?

Bagwell doesn’t let the kid get up, mounting him and throwing bombs at his face.

Yale: He looks pretty sharp to me right now.

After a few extra punches, Valleta manages to shove Bagwell off. But when Valleta gets up, Bagwell rushes in for a spear…only to be stopped pretty easily.

Bryan: Valleta is six-foot-six and two-eighty. Not sure what Chris was thinking there.

Valleta grabs ‘round Bagwell’s stomach, lifts him up, and drops him with a thunderous powerbomb.

Yale: Probably that he hopes his chiropractor works on-call.

As Bagwell writhes around on the ground, the countdown to the next participant starts.

Bryan: Who’s gonna be next in this match?

As the counter hits one…














Bryan: It’s Cameron Garret!

Yale: I don’t think this is the spot he was hoping to draw.

The look on Garret’s face says as much, as he takes his time getting to the ring.

Bryan: Garret’s last match ended with him being unceremoniously destroyed by Rasa. Something tells me he’s hoping for a better performance this go-around.

Valleta stomps away at the fallen Bagwell, as Garret slides into the ring and quickly goes for Valleta’s knees.

Bryan: Taking a guy as big as Valleta off his feet is probably the best chance you have against him.

Yale: Right. Because in an over-the-top battle royal, keeping your opponent on the ground is a sound strategy.

Valleta drops to his knees, and Garret grabs him by the neck from behind and drops him with an inverted DDT.

Bryan: Big impact move there, and Garret transitions that to a sleeper hold!

Yale: A submission? Are you kidding me?!? Does this rube not know what kind of match this is?

Valleta starts to wear down, as Garret tightens the hold. But he’s not paying attention, apparently, as Bagwell comes rushing in and nearly kicks Garret’s head off his shoulders.

Bryan: Bagwell with the save for Valleta! You think there might be an alliance forming possibly in the early going between--

Yale: Nope. He’s pummeling him senseless.

Sure enough, Bagwell is back to throwing lefts and rights at Valleta’s upper head and neck area.

Bryan: Oh. Well, so much for that theory. But speaking of, do you think alliances will come into play in this match at all?

Garret pulls Bagwell off of Valleta and gets in a few shots of his own.

Yale: Well, when you’ve got people like Desade and Aimz with the history they have, and Red and Ted likely to be kicking around, you know it’s going to play into it.

Valleta, now up himself, grabs Garret by the back of the head and slams him down.

Yale: But at the end of the day, they don’t give out ties for Dangerous Games.

Bagwell, seizing the moment, superkicks Valleta’s lights out.

Bryan: What a kick! Bagwell is showing some signs of early dominance here.

Yale: There are few out there that have the drive towards a title shot like Bagwell.

With Valleta down, Bagwell stalks over to Garret, whose now just getting sturdy. Bagwell quickly fixes that, though, with a belly-to-belly suplex.

Bryan: Bagwell is on top of his game right here!

The crowd is starting to get behind the Rajah of Ratings, and Bagwell points to the top rope.

Bryan: What’s he planning now?

Bagwell ascends up the turnbuckle and has eyes on Valleta, as Tempest slams on the mat, screaming for her protégé to get up.

Yale: Well, now. Of course when you’re in a battle royal, you have to go up top. What the heck is wrong with him?

Bagwell comes leaping off, and as his mentor demanded, Valleta’s up, and catches Bagwell in a bearhug, just as the count starts.

Bryan: Bagwell got caught! He’s not going anywhere!

Valleta swings Bagwell around, and slams him nearly through the mat with a side slam.

And just as he does, the count hits one…














Bryan: It’s the former SCCW star and American Dream holder Phillip Kennedy!

Kennedy seems unfazed about his number, instead choosing to bolt right to the ring and go after Valleta with a series of knife-edge chops.

Yale: Kennedy doesn’t seem to care that he drew number four.

Bryan: He’s a student of the game, and he likely knows that Andy Murray came out at number five last year, only to go on to win the whole thing.

The crowd screams out "whooo" with each chop, and Valleta’s chest grows a hearty shade of red with each strike.

Bryan: Numbers only mean something up to a point.

Valleta finally manages to block Kennedy’s strikes, and shoves him down with both palms extended. Kennedy rolls through, however, and charges forward with a lariat to Valleta’s chest that’s likely to make the rosy-red tenderness a dark, brooding welt.

Bryan: What impact with that Las Vegas Lariat by Kennedy!

Yale: Valleta certainly has the size advantage, but Kennedy is leaps ahead in terms of skill.

With Kennedy looking at the fallen Valleta, it gives Bagwell a chance to come in and get some offense going. However, Kennedy turns around a split second ahead of schedule and ducks Bagwell’s superkick. When Bagwell swings back around, Kennedy catches him with a superkick all his own.

Bryan: And Bagwell’s down now!

Kennedy’s fired up, so when Garret comes running in unexpectedly, Kennedy reacts quickly, backbody dropping Garret right over the top rope!

Bryan: And there goes Garret!

Yale: And there goes fifty bucks! Damnit, why couldn’t Rikki Roxx have been first?

Garret gets up and slams the apron in disgust, but Cam Wrigley and Tim Vale tell him to get to stepping. With Bagwell and Valleta down, Kennedy decides to go after Bagwell and lock him up with a Texas Cloverleaf. Bagwell screams holy hell, as Kennedy cinches it in tight.

Bryan: Kennedy has Bagwell locked up in Drawing Dead!

Yale: What the hell? C’mon! That’s two submissions so far! What the hell is wrong with these guys?

Bryan: Kennedy’s trying to wear down Bagwell while everything has pretty well halted to a standstill. He’s softening him up for the later goings. Bagwell is known for his endurance in these things.

Yale: It’s still stupid. C’mon, Kennedy! Bash his brains out!

Bryan says nothing, instead choosing silence, as Bagwell howls out that he wants no more of his legs twisted like a pretzel. The refs obviously ignore him, but Kennedy has his back turned towards Valleta, who uses his stealthness to his advantage by kicking Kennedy in the back of the skull.

Bryan: Valleta breaks the hold for Bagwell, putting him out of his misery and assisting him with--

Yale: Valleta just stomped on Bagwell’s head.

Bryan: …Oh.

Much like the many women his brethren have roofied, Bagwell’s eyes roll into the back of his head, while Kennedy crawls around, trying to get semblance of the situation. As Valleta helps jog his memory with a kick to the ribs, the clock begins to tick down.

Bryan: Valleta looks pissed, and has Kennedy at his mercy.

Yale: Yeah, but who’s next?

It hits one…














Bryan: The high-flying Dynasty, and look at him sprint to the ring!

Dynasty, using his dexterity, leaps up onto the apron, onto the ropes, and hits Valleta in his wounded chest with both feet out, a missile dropkick that’s caught by numerous flashing cameras.

Bryan: Dynasty’s using his natural athleticism to strike fast and quick!

Bagwell’s on his knees, but goes right back to landing smack dab on his face with a stiff kick from Dynasty. He turns around and sees Kennedy trying to get upright, and gets a running start, hitting Kennedy with a low baseball sliding dropkick.

Bryan: And Dynasty is well in control as the fresh man!

Of course, Dynasty takes his time to pander to the crowd and point to himself, which allows Valleta time to get up and tower over the diminutive Dynasty.

Bryan: Dynasty’s showboating is wasting time, and he doesn’t even see Valleta sneaking up on him.

Yale: Hope Dynasty didn’t have plans for NC-17, ‘cause they’re about to be cancelled.

As the shadow of the youngster looms over Dynasty, the former baseball star’s eyes go wide as the crowd screams, ready for Dynasty’s demise. When Dynasty turns around and his eyes are directed right at Valleta’s swollen chest, he tries to jump through the ropes, but Valleta won’t let him.

Bryan: Dynasty tried to bail, but he’s not going anywhere!

Valleta whips him hard towards the ropes, and Dynasty returns. When Valleta catches him, he shoots Dynasty straight up into the air. Dynasty comically flails his arms and legs before slamming stomach-first on the mat.

Bryan: He just went airborne!

Yale: Yeah, and crashed harder than Charlie Sheen after a night at the Playboy mansion!

Bryan: Topical.

With Tempest cheering him on, Valleta marvels at his accomplishment, but he takes a bit too long in doing so, and Phillip Kennedy rushes up from behind to dump him over the ropes.

Bryan: Valleta’s gone!

Yale: No! He caught the apron.

Valleta has a handful of ropes and a tentative grasp on staying in the match.

Bryan: The veteran of SCCW nearly finished off the youngster very early on.

Yale: Almost, but not quite.

Kennedy doesn’t seem to care either way, and stomps away at Valleta, as the clock counts down once more.

Bryan: We’re five in so far. Who will come out at number six?

It hits one…
















Fire spits out from the entryway, and from a rising platform appears none other than the Maestro of Metal himself. The crowd gets in a tizzy.

Bryan: Here it is! What we’ve been waiting for!

Yale: The entrance of the year is here! It’s Rikki Roxx, people! Get out of your seats!

The strums of "Hard Rock Hallelujah" pour through the arena, as columns of fire continually pump out at one-second intervals. Roxx headbangs to the music, as everyone in the ring has stopped dead cold.

Rikki Roxx walks over to where a large object is covered by a black tarp, and he rips the tarp away to reveal…

Bryan: That’s…it’s a cannon!

Yale: Oh, Christ…

Roxx picks up the helmet off the stage and lets out a prolonged "YEEEEAH!!!" before affixing it to his head and climbing in.

Bryan: Oh no. Is he…?

Yale: Shooting himself out of a cannon into the ring? Yes, JB, I believe he is.

Roxx gives the thumbs up, and the tech lights the fuse. The crowd counts down.

FIVE…

FOUR…

THR-BOOOM!!!!


The cannon goes off prematurely, and Roxx zips through the air, screaming like a schoolgirl and likely realizing he’s made the biggest mistake of his life. Roxx flies over the ropes, slams hard into the mat, bounces over the top ropes, and crashes into the protective guardrail protecting the crowd from ringside.

Roxx, however, is likely dead.

Bryan: My God! Rikki Roxx…has eliminated himself!

Yale: Not by choice, mind you. And I do believe that point-four seconds is a brand new record for Dangerous Games eliminations, beating Roxx’s own personal best of one second from last year.

Medics rush over to Roxx, who’s twitching something fierce. Everyone in the ring, however, just shakes their head with disbelief and goes back to attacking one another.

Bryan: Well, in all my years, never have I seen something that…well, foolish and absurd.

Yale: And we’ve seen the Wolfienator in action. That’s sayin’ something.

Valleta hits Bagwell with a big boot, sending the Rajah of Ratings staggering into Kennedy’s waiting arms, where he finishes off the exchange by throwing Bagwell shoulder-first through the turnbuckle and into the ringpost, and laying out Valleta with a hard right cross.

Yale: Kennedy isn’t messing around at--

Bryan: DYNASTY!

Dynasty, flying out of nowhere, cracks Kennedy in the face with a flying side kick, one that sends Kennedy through the ropes and to the outside, as the countdown begins once more.

Bryan: Dynasty just leveled Phillip Kennedy in a big way!

Since he didn’t go over the top, however, he’s still in the game, as he scurries to the guardrail to get his wits about him.

And when the clock strikes one…















Bryan: Oh no.

Yale: Oh yeah! Here comes my pick, baby!

Rasa emerges, and intimidating sells him a tad bit short. With Christian Zenith at his side, the monster huffs and puffs on his way to the ring, as everyone in the ring, for the second time tonight, stops dead cold.

Bryan: This behemoth, under control of that bastard Christian Zenith…I mean, how can you even begin to fathom taking him out?

Yale: Lots and lots of praying, I’d imagine.

Rasa walks up the steel steps, and Zenith flashes the nearby Tempest a smirk, to which she responds with a sneer. Once through the ropes, Rasa stalks to the middle of the ring, where he stands, arms crossed, an immovable object just waiting for someone to take their chances as the unstoppable force.

Bryan: Who’s going to make the first move?

It takes a number of seconds, but it’s Dynasty who takes the leap, as he jumps to the top rope and flies towards Rasa with abandon.

And then Rasa catches him by the throat.

Bryan: Oh no! Dynasty is in a really bad way here!

Rasa lifts Dynasty a good couple of feet off the air by his neck, as the man from Buffalo kicks his feet haphazardly, a few strike hitting the masked man’s upper chest. When Rasa’s had enough, which is a quick event, he flings Dynasty over the top rope as if he were a ragdoll.

Bryan: And there goes Dynasty!

Yale: Poor guy never stood a chance.

Valleta and Bagwell exchange awkward glances, and seem to agree on a terse alliance. When Bagwell gives the notion to charge, he takes a step, and then one backward, as Valleta goes in solo.

Bryan: Bagwell fooled the kid into making the first move!

Yale: Another rookie mistake.

Valleta realizes the error of his ways too late, but he’s already made the commitment, and says the hell with it, choosing to attack Rasa with all he has. Launching forearms at the monster’s chest, Rasa begins to stagger a bit.

Bryan: Rasa’s backpedaling! Valleta might be able to handle the big--

Yale: Nope. He’s on the ground.

Rasa, having had enough, swats Valleta with a backhand, one that catches him right under the chin. Valleta drops, and rolls out of the ring, crashing onto the protective mats and clutching his chin as Tempest rushes over to check on him.

Bryan: Rasa has come in and dominated! Is there any real hope of stopping this monster?

As Rasa carefully eyes Tempest and Valleta, Bagwell goes in for the kill, going low and attacking Rasa’s kidneys and liver with punches. Rasa, however, seems not to mind too much, his eyes still on the two outside.

Bryan: Bagwell’s giving it his all…and Rasa doesn’t even seem to care!

Yale: He does now!

Grabbing Bagwell by the waist, he flips him upward, spins around, and powerbombs Bagwell right out of the ring.

Bryan: And there goes Bagwell! My lord! Who can stop this monster?

Yale: I’m not sure, but I’m guessing it’s not any of these guys.

Rasa remains stoic, as the countdown begins once more.

Bryan: This might be like sending lambs to the slaughter. Who’s going to be next?














Bryan: I think Kasidy Drake might be thinkin’ about going back to his regular practice right quick. I mean, assuming he’s an actual doctor.

Yale: Well, him walking down to the ring solidifies that he ain’t no brain surgeon.

Drake is obviously a bit worried, even if he tries to keep a brave face. Rasa has his full attention on the man, and Drake is in no hurry to get to the ring. And then…

Bryan: What the…? Is that…?

Blowing right through Drake, slamming into his shoulder and nearly giving the good doctor a heart attack, is the very stumbling, very drunk former World champion Triumph Frost, a bottle of Grey Goose in one hand and a large sandwich in the other.

Bryan: Oh dear God, not this again.

Yale: Hey! What’s he doing out here? That Triumph! Whatta card!

Triumph continues his trek around ringside, passing by Tempest, who still tends to her fallen protégé. Suddenly, he stops, belting out an "Hey! I know you!" She gives him one helluva dirty look, and continues on to the announce table. As Bryan protests...

Bryan: No, wait. You can’t, there’s no room--

…Triumph ignores and grabs a chair, sidling up to the two esteemed commentators. He puts on a headset, takes a bite of the sandwich, washes it down with a gulp from the Grey Goose, and lets out a belch.

Triumph Frost: Great to be here, guys!

Yale: Happy to have you!

Triumph Frost: Yeah. So, uhh…what’s goin’ on?

Bryan: Oh, God. Is this seriously happening?

Triumph Frost: You better believe it, bub.

Everyone has stopped yet again, the third time this evening, to witness the debacle, with all parties once again in disbelief. Kennedy continues to catch his breath, Drake is taking baby steps towards the ring, Tempest helps up Valleta, himself in no hurry to return to action, and Rasa stands as stoic as ever.

Triumph Frost: What a night, am I right? Exciting shit and all that.

Bryan: But…you lost your World title.

Triumph Frost: I did?

Bryan: To Johnny Borealis?

Triumph Frost: Who?

Bryan: Johnny? Borealis? He was the…you know what? Forget it.

Triumph Frost: So…Dangerous Games. When’s that happening?

Bryan groans, as the clock counts down once more to one…














Bryan: Here comes Adrian Tanner!

Tanner comes rushing in, past the still-walking-to-the-ring Kasidy Drake a house of fire, throwing punches with abandon. Rasa isn’t impressed, and kicks him square in the chest, sending him stumbling into the ropes. A lariat later, and Tanner is done.

Triumph Frost: And there goes Tanner! Ha!

Tanner’s quick disposal doesn’t instill confidence in anyone, as suddenly Philip Kennedy, Kasidy Drake, Tempest and Frankie Valleta take up having a quick conversation amongst themselves.

Bryan: Some strategy here, maybe?

Triumph Frost: That big ol’ fuck is a hoss of a bastard. I’d suggest weapons, like pipes and syringes and, and…err…uhh…

Triumph’s voice trails off, and he takes a bite of the sandwich, as the pow-wow ends with the three surrounding different sides of the ring. They slide in at the same time, fists at the ready.

Bryan: The three are flanking Rasa! Will it be enough?

They charge in, a flurry of an attack which lasts all of ten seconds before Rasa starts swatting them away like flies.

Yale: Nope.

Drake doesn’t manage to get away, instead caught by Rasa’s Tony Robbins-esque mitt of a hand. He clutches his throat, before leaving an indent in Drake’s forehead with a massive headbutt.

Bryan: Not even a dent! Rasa is everything we feared he might be, and then some!

Valleta is first up, and he goes for another helping, charging forward with a head full of steam. But much like a test car crashing into a brick wall, Valleta bounces off and slams straight on his back.

Bryan: He didn’t even budge an inch, and Valleta is hardly a weakling by any standards.

Triumph Frost: Well, that’s why real men drive tanks, and pussies ride around in Hummers.

Bryan: …That analogy makes no sense whatsoever.

Triumph Frost: Well, your face makes no sense.

After another Bryan groan, Valleta looks straight upward at Rasa, who decides the best thing to do would be to stomp forward and crush Valleta’s head like a melon. Valleta deftly rolls out of the way, however, leaving Rasa open momentarily for Phillip Kennedy to rush in with his knee up, his kneecap smashing into Rasa’s guts.

Bryan: Rasa might have had the wind taken out of him right there!

Rasa staggers oh-so-slightly, and Kennedy, on pure instinct now, continues to attack the lower right side of Rasa’s torso. A barrage of punches to Rasa’s organs follows, and Rasa attempts to elbow him off.

Bryan: Kennedy ducked the elbow, and now he’s working on the other side!

What Bryan said. Drake is back up, and he goes to work on Rasa’s now-open right side, as Rasa goes from offense to defense, trying to cover up his vitals.

Bryan: They have Rasa reeling! Could this be it for the monster?!?

Alas, the attack lasts not much longer, as Rasa unleashes his tree-trunk arms and smashes into both of their faces with his forearms, sending them flying in different directions.

Bryan: Good lord! What strength!

Yale: Even a united attack has little effect.

As Rasa takes a moment to catch his breath and Zenith offers him words of encouragement/orders for the next bit, the count begins once more.

Bryan: We’re over a third through the lineup. Who’s going to be number ten?

As the clock hits one…














"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

There's no elevator or entourage this time, just a lone redhead in white pushing through the curtain, limping slightly.

Bryan: This woman--

Yale: --is awesome? Is exactly what she says she is? Just put on one hell of a show?

Bryan: If you call that a show.

Yale: I think that was the very definition of a show.

Pierce's pace slows as she reaches the base of the ramp, and she narrows her eyes, first at the ring, then at the generally negative crowd. Behind her, perhaps the world's only remaining Desade fan holds up his massive white "The Spider in the WIN!" sign.

Yale: At least SOMEONE still appreciates her.

Bryan: I question anybody who'd still support her. Pierce is out here by herself tonight by order of GCW management -- let's see how she does without an army on her side!

Yale: She doesn't need an army. She is an army!

Pierce slithers under the bottom rope, coming quickly to her feet. There may be a smile on her face. At least, until she spots Rasa, who acknowledges her presence, the very thing one would hope to avoid.

Bryan: She could have an entire tank division behind her. This is not something she, or anyone, could hope for.

There’s a pause that hangs in the air as Desade stares daggers right through the creature who may literally be three times her size.

Bryan: Desade will need to play this one carefully. Otherwise her hopes could go up in a puff of smoke.

Ms. Pierce begins to pace across the ring, past the fallen bodies, while Rasa’s head stays on a swivel and follows her on her journey.

Yale: She’s looking for the right time and place to strike. But I don’t think the guy has a weak spot that can be exploited.

Bryan: If there is one, it’s Desade who’s going to seek it out and attack it relentlessly. It may be her only hope.

Yale: Heck, getting rid of that guy’s everyone’s best hope.

Triumph Frost: Goddamned right!

As Rasa remains focused, he notices Desade peeking out of the corner of her eye. When Rasa swings around, it’s Kasidy Drake, hoping to get the drop on the big man. It’s not a smart move on Drake’s part, however, as Rasa levels him with a straight left punch.

And in the confusion…

Bryan: Desade’s going in for the kill! What sickening kicks to the shins of Rasa!

Rasa tries to grasp as Desade, but only gets air, as the girl uses her superior speed to sneak between the man’s legs. When she’s upright, she attacks the back of his legs, hitting the joints holding the kneecaps in place.

Bryan: Even someone as big as Rasa has to feel pain in that sensitive area. And if you fell a beast like him, you might just have him at your mercy.

Yale: Might being the operative word.

Rasa’s knees buckle oh-so-slightly, but not enough to bring him down. Rasa grabs at Desade from behind, but Desade rolls out of the way, springs upright, and continues her kicking assault. Around this time, Valleta and Kennedy decide to join the fray, and as she keeps going low, they go high.

Bryan: Everyone’s on the attack now!

Rasa can’t help but cover himself up, as Christian Zenith barks orders from the outside that seem to fall on deaf ears.

Bryan: Rasa is on the defensive for the first time since…well, perhaps ever!

Rasa backpedals to the ropes, using them as leverage to keep himself upright while he blocks the attacks as best as possible.

Bryan: Could this be the end for Christian Zenith’s pet?

Yale: Don’t think so!

Rasa, as if bottling his energy, releases it with both arms outright, sending all three sprawling across the ring.

Bryan: And Rasa breaks free once more! Even a superstar like Desade can’t do much to make a dent.

Yale: Well, maybe this next person will.

As Rasa looks a bit more out of breath than usual, the clock hits one…














Bryan: Here comes Brad Jackson, and he looks ready to go!

Jackson sprints out, sliding under the ropes, and rushes right up to Rasa, unleashing bombs like holy hell.

Bryan: And he’s unloading on Rasa!

Yale: Jeez, now Jackson’s getting in on this? It didn’t work for the other rubes that tried it and it ain’t gonna work for a guy that just dropped his belt by getting rolled up. I mean, am I the only person who knows that Rasa can’t be stopped?

Rasa is in defensive mode once more, blocking the bulk of Jackson’s offense.

Bryan: Well, what? Would you just have them be lambs to the slaughter?

Yale: They already are getting slaughtered. No need to lead ‘em to the well.

When Jackson shows the first signs of tiring, Rasa lunges forward with a headbutt, but Jackson spins out of the way like a running back.

Yale: Man, Jackson just dodged a massive bullet right—

Bryan: Desade!!!

Already airborne, she lands a missile dropkick into the back of the behemoth’s skull, sending Rasa stumbling forward.

Bryan: Kennedy!!!

As Rasa tries to keep himself upright, his efforts are certainly not aided by a Las Vegas Lariat courtesy of the former SCCW champion of something or other. Whatever. You look it up if you care so much. However, his efforts are not enough to fell the giant.

Bryan: And now Valleta!

Valleta comes charging forward like a bull, shoulder-first into Rasa’s chest, producing a thud much like a baseball bat against an oak tree. Rasa stumbles backward, but he’s still standing.

Yale: He’s still on his feet! No one’s dropping him!

Rasa sways about like a stripper at a Duke Lacrosse party, when Jackson, now behind him, tries to castrate him with a low blow.

Bryan: That might! The Great Equalizer, indeed!

Yale: Ahh! He can’t do that! Can he?

Triumph Frost: All’s fair in…uhh…something or whatever. Fuck you.

And yet, with his undercarriage severely smarting, Rasa still remains upright, and the concern grows on the belabored faces of those in the ring.

Bryan: Could a tank even stop Rasa?

Triumph Frost: I have a tank.

Bryan: Quiet, you!

Suddenly, Jackson and Desade get a brainwave, and order Valleta and Kennedy respectively to follow their lead.

Bryan: All four are on the warpath! Will they? Can they?

When all four come together with simultaneous dropkicks, it’s a thing of beauty. And the crowd explodes in unison as the monster crashes harder than Sonny Bono on a ski trip.

Bryan: Yes!!! Rasa’s down! Rasa’s down!!

Yale: Sure, because when you’re in an over-the-top battle royal, the best strategy against the biggest guy is to knock him on his ass.

Bryan: The point is they did it!

There’s no time to celebrate, however, as Jackson turns on Valleta and Desade on Kennedy.

Bryan: So much for that alliance!

Jackson gets Valleta on the ropes and gets an unexpected assist from Drake as they try to toss the youngster over. Meanwhile, Desade softens up Kennedy with a DDT.

Bryan: Are you sticking with your original prediction of Rasa now?

Yale: Of course! He may be on the mat taking a bit of a breather, but you saw it. It took the lot of them to even get him off his feet. It’ll take even more to dump him over the top.

Bryan: But Valleta might be up and over again...

Jackson and Drake manage to get the youngster over…

Bryan: But he catches the ropes once more. It seems he had quite the astute teacher.

With Valleta hanging on, Jackson diverts his attention to Drake, leveling him with a punch to the mush as the clock begins its tick once more.

Bryan: Here we go again.

As Desade valiantly tries to throw Kennedy over the top rope and he prevents it, the clock strikes one…














Bryan: The big man is back in GCW!

Yale: He’s not the biggest man anymore, though.

The crowd gives a rather pleasing ovation for the man from Mojave, including a spattering of "welcome back" chants.

Bryan: That may be true, but he’s still a force to be reckoned with. And right now, he’s the freshest guy out there.

Shaman climbs into the ring, but is immediately usurped by Kennedy and Valleta, who throw forearms at his upper torso as he climbs through the ropes.

Bryan: And it seems they know it.

Yale: Outside of Rasa, who’ll probably never leave that ring, Shaman’s the next biggest obstacle in this match. Getting rid of him early on? Smart thinking by anyone involved.

Shaman, however, shoves Valleta and Kennedy away. When Kennedy comes back for more, the powerhouse lays him out with a big boot.

Bryan: Down goes Kennedy! And Valleta’s making a move!

Yale: No, he ain’t.

Before Valleta can take his shot, Jackson appears out of nowhere, hooks him, and throws him over the shoulder with a T-Bone suplex.

Yale: Jackson came out of nowhere!

Bryan: There aren’t many people out there that can throw a guy around that’s nearly three-hunded pounds with ease, but Brad Jackson is definitely one of them.

Triumph Frost: Oh Christ, you’re not gonna do one of those spotlight things, are you? We’re not in a video game, you know.

Bryan: Thank you, Triumph. I’m aware we’re not in a video game.

Triumph Frost: Just makin’ sure.

Shaman, only very slightly groggy from his initial ambush, spots Kasidy Drake rousing himself up, and runs over and blasts him right in the head with a big kick.

Yale: Man, Kasidy Drake is being abused more than Whitney Houston in Bobby Brown’s crack dreams.

With Drake barely conscious, Shaman continues that trend by picking him up, throwing him over his shoulder, and hitting a very deadman-esque Tombstone piledriver.

Triumph Frost: You mean like Kanye sucking Kardashian dick?

Yale: Like a Valtrex prescription at Paris Hilton’s house.

Triumph Frost: Like rentboys in Elton John’s dungeon?

Shaman lifts up Drake to dump him over the ropes, but is prevented by Jackson, who cuts Shaman’s knees out from under him, and Drake drops right on top of him.

Yale: More like teenagers at a Roman Polanski film festival.

Bryan: God above us! Enough, you two!

Jackson goes to lift up Shaman, but Shaman fights back, throwing bombs at Jackson’s neck and torso area. Shaman sends Jackson to the ropes, and backbody drops him hard to the mat.

Bryan: Shaman’s starting to pick up some steam here…

At least he would’ve, if not for Desade attacking his knees with quick kicks. As Shaman drops to a knee, Desade grabs him ‘round the neck and spikes him with a DDT.

Bryan: Big move by the Spider in the Web to capitalize.

Yale: Shouldn’t she be, you know, trying to throw him over the top rope? Isn’t this what this match is all about?

Bryan: It’s not as easy as that.

Yale: Sure it is. Over the rope equals one more guy gone. It’s not rocket science.

Desade surveys the ring for someone to prey upon, and when she spots Rasa, she averts her eyes from his way. She instead sees Valleta, who’s struggling to rise. Her eyes light up like a cheap slot machine.

Bryan: She’s got the youngster in her sights. And I don’t think this bodes well for him.

She’s gearing up and ready to go. But in mid-stride towards Valleta’s vulnerable noggin, she doesn’t spot Kennedy come out of nowhere to spear her into the ground.

Bryan: A spear by Kennedy!

Yale: No!

Except the spear doesn’t go as planned, and Desade has it scouted all the way through. Backing up ever-so-slightly, it gives her enough room to grab his head, go through the motion, and plant him with a sitout facebuster.

Bryan: Desade saw that move from miles away!

Yale: The two have history from the old SCCW days. It’s no surprise she holds the advantage over some of these guys.

With Desade seated, she looks around and sees everyone sprawled about. Everyone is down except for Rasa, who’s still using the ropes to keep himself propped up.

Bryan: It’s bedlam in there, with Desade conducting things as best she can and staying away from the one person it seems no one can handle.

Yale: And we’re about to get another body to join the party.

The count begins once again, as Desade flips her hair back, gets up, and tries to bring Kennedy up with her, but he seems quite content remaining unconscious.

Yale: Unlucky lumber thirteen, comin’ up!














And with that, the crowd goes wild.

Bryan: It’s Valentine! Vivica J. Valentine is here!!!

Yale: I see her, too, ya know. Jeez!

As the crowd goes ballistic, it’s Desade who first takes notice of this event. Valentine makes a bee-line for the woman who did quite the number on her, and Desade grabs an unsuspecting not-sure-exactly-what-day-it-is Kasidy Drake and puts him in the way. Valentine, however, remedies that by nearly kicking Drake’s head clean off his shoulders.

Yale: Desade wants no part of Valentine right now!

Bryan: But all Viv wants is Desade’s blood! And she’s gonna get it, come hell or high water!

Desade, still on the run, jumps behind a now-standing and slightly dazed Kennedy and shoves him into Valentine’s path. Valentine just throws him to the wayside, but it’s enough for Desade to use as a smokescreen, as she unleashes a kick straight to Valentine’s chest.

Bryan: Valentine’s rage clouded her judgment, and she paid for it dearly.

Desade, looking rather pleased with herself, takes a few steps forward and admires Valentine clutching her chest.

Bryan: I shudder to think how much more punishment Desade can impart upon Valentine. I mean, her friend Aimz turning on her?

Yale: Dude, Aimz and Desade are in a relationship. Never trust lesbians, as my dad always said.

The redhead peeks down to say something, but before her lips can part, Valentine grabs hold of her arm, locks around her neck, and rears back like there’s no tomorrow.

Bryan: Triangle choke! Valentine has Desade locked in a move that Karina Wolfenden made famous! And there’s not a single place for Desade to hide now!

Desade fights to break free, but Valentine has the hold locked in tight. The Medusa does the only thing she can to hope to break the hold, and lifts up the Bulletproof Blonde and drops her with a powerbomb. However, Valentine isn’t showing any signs of relenting.

Bryan: Desade is trapped right here.

Yale: You can see the effects kicking in. Desade’s breathing is getting heavier. She’s struggling to lift her off the ground.

Bryan: But lift her she does with another powerbomb…and still Valentine won’t let up!

Yale: Look at Viv! Her nails are dug into Desade’s arm. I don’t even think she cares if she wins DG anymore. These two have gone way beyond personal.

Bryan: You might be right.

Desade tries a third time, but she lacks the strength, as the oxygen flow is slowly cutting away from her brain. Luckily for her, Frankie Valleta walks over and stomps on Valentine.

Bryan: Desade just got saved by…Frankie Valleta?

Yale: It’s everyone for themselves. Alliances be damned.

Valleta drags Valentine away, kicking and screaming, as Desade tries to get her wits about her. It’s not helped by a slightly perturbed Phillip Kennedy, who wasn’t exactly keen on being used by the strategist and shows it with an inverted DDT.

Bryan: Desade’s not getting a single moment of respite, even by someone she might consider something of a comrade.

Triumph Frost: All’s fair, and all that.

Bryan: You’re awake still?

Triumph Frost: Think so.

Kennedy doesn’t get much of a chance to prosper, however, as Shaman takes it upon himself to throw Kennedy into the corner and immediately try to flip him over the ropes, while Valleta does the same to Valentine, who’s still not taken her eyes off Desade even as she fights for dear life.

Bryan: It’s clear that the only thing Valentine wants is a piece of Desade, but she should really be focusing on just staying in the match!

Yale: Valleta’s almost got her over, too. It’s not lookin’ good for Viv.

Valentine, realizing this perhaps, starts suddenly flailing about, and an errant elbow to Valleta’s temple forces him to stumble about. Valentine, now free, runs over to aid Kennedy in his attempt to send Desade out.

Bryan: Valentine’s free, and there’s only one thing on her mind: humiliate Alexandra Pierce!

As Kennedy tries to get Desade up and over, Valentine isn’t helping by simply attacking Desade with her limbs. Kennedy, annoyed that’s she’s proving more detrimental than helpful, shoves Valentine away.

Bryan: Kennedy pushed Valentine away!

As Kennedy goes back to trying to get Desade out, the Bulletproof Blonde turns her attention to superkicking Kennedy’s head near off his shoulders.

Bryan: And Kennedy’s down!

Not looking to take any part in this any more, Desade scrambles to safety, as Valentine, consumed in blood rage, stomps away at Kennedy.

Bryan: She’s gone completely mad! I think she’s been sent completely over the edge!

Yale: Look at the welts forming on Kennedy’s face. He’s in a really crappy spot right now.

Bryan: And the clock’s going down once more! Who’s next? Who’s next into the fray?














Bryan: It’s Natalie Burrows!

Yale: Who?

Burrows sprints to the ring, leaps on the apron, jumps up to the ropes and springboards into the ring, landing feet first into Kasidy Drake’s face.

Bryan: Springboard dropkick by Burrows!

Yale: Seriously, who the hell is this broad?

Burrows is up, but when she spins around, she meets Desade, who grabs her by her hair and flings her right out of the ring.

Yale: Nevermind.

Bryan: She made the mistake of bumping into the Spider in the Web. Never a good career move.

With Desade’s back turned, it gives Valentine time to get a head full of steam, and when the Spider in the Web turns around…

Bryan: REPENTANCE!

Desade drops face-first on the mat, as the crowd screams in delight. Valentine leans down and starts letting a possibly unconscious redhead have it with a series of phrases not fit to be reprinted. And with Valentine distracted, Kennedy decides now is the time to grab her from behind and attempt to compress her spine with a releasing German suplex.

Bryan: And Kennedy with a devastating move!

As Kennedy looks a bit pleased with himself, Jackson sneaks up from behind, hooks Kennedy’s arms, and…

Bryan: SOMETHING WICKED! My God, there’s no letting up amongst any of them!

With Jackson slow to get up, Valleta pounces into action, grabs Jackson, and spikes him with a powerbomb.

Bryan: And Valleta drops Jackson! Everyone’s getting a piece!

As Valleta gets up and turns around, he gets grabbed around the neck by Rasa, who lifts him straight in the air and straight into the mat with a nasty chokeslam.

Yale: Christ, it looks like a war zone in there!

When Rasa turns around, Shaman stalks right up to him and shoves him, both palms extended.

Bryan: Oh, man! Shaman’s poking the bear right now!

Yale: More like poking the genetically-altered hellbeast.

Rasa doesn’t take it well, and shoves Shaman right back. Suddenly, the two are up in each other’s faces, nose-to-bag-over-the-head.

Bryan: These two are the largest wrestlers in GCW right now. Together they weigh about as much as a Mini Cooper. What’s gonna happen when they go at it?

Yale: Think we’re about to find that out.

And just like that, they begin to attack. And it’s not so much trading blows, as it is interrupting one another’s strikes.

Bryan: Lefts and rights! It’s a flurry of punches. There’s no rhythm or art to this. This is just pure, unadulterated offense by two men that want nothing more than kill each other!

The ring shakes with each strike, and the crowd eats up every single second of it. They fight much like two heavyweights would, with complete abandon and without a single moment of thought about defense.

Bryan: I don’t know how much longer they can absorb this much punishment. One of them is going to falter, and falter big time.

Yale: They’re risking endurance for the thrill of the fight. It’s a poor strategy if one of them wants to win. I mean, I think I can see steam pouring out of Zenith’s ears right now!

Sure enough, Zenith’s screaming at the top of his lungs for Rasa to knock this renegade shit off, but again his words seem to fall on deaf ears.

Luckily for Rasa, it’s Shaman that begins to show signs of faltering first, and Rasa takes full advantage, rocking him for everything he’s worth. After a couple more strikes, Shaman looks as coherent as Lindsay Lohan at a Pablo Escobar museum, and Rasa completes the task with a thunderous right.

Bryan: My word! I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shaman handled like that in quite some time!

Yale: All the way to NC-17, baby!

Yet when Rasa turns around…

Bryan: THE SPIDER’S KISS!!!

Yale: Ahh! Where did that come from?!?

Bryan: Desade’s specialty. But I think she was hoping for a better outcome there.

Rasa may be face down on the mat, but Desade fares no better, clutching at her already banged-up knees.

Yale: That move definitely took a bit more out of her than she’d have liked.

Bryan: A very un-Pierce-like occurrence, for certain, but it might have been the only way to subdue Rasa at the current juncture.

Much like that crappy song that gets play every once in awhile, bodies have hit the floor. And that’s about the time the counter begins once again.

Bryan: Everyone’s been put through the ringer. Who’s about to capitalize at number fifteen?















Yeah, the crowd goes apeshit.

Bryan: Oh my God! Is it?!? Can it be?!?

Yale: He’s returned! He’s returned!

Bryan: It’s…

Triumph Frost: YEEEEEAAAHHHH!!

Bryan: Oh no…

And yes, it is Andy Murray. But not that Andy Murray. It’s Andy Muthafuckin’ Murray Muthafuckin’ Junior, folks!

Bryan: Please-please-please-PLEASE tell me this isn’t happening.

Yale: I’m having a fever dream, right?

Triumph Frost: Shut it, the lot of you!

Andy Murray Jr., clad in a king’s crown and a purple regal robe and with a golden bejeweled scepter in hand, is joined by not one, not two, not three, but four incredibly buxom, incredibly skanky-looking hoes. And also his pimp friend is there, the one from the roleplay you probably didn’t read.

Bryan: This can’t seriously be happening.

Triumph Frost: Oh, you’re goddamned right it is. My bud’s gonna own all’a’y’all muthafuckin’ punk-ass bitches!

Murr Jr. hands off his scepter to his pimp friend, two of the ho’s pull the robe off of him, another ho takes the crown off, and all four ho’s take turns kissing him on the cheek. When Murr Jr. does a bit of stretching first and foremost…

Bryan: Okay, this is just about the damnedest absurd thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve commentated on matches with Scott Stevens, Bishop Steele, and the freakin’ Wolfienator!

…The Leader of Apes jumps into the ring. He cracks his knuckles, cracks his neck…and walks right into Rasa.

Bryan: Oh no! Not him!

Yale: Damnit! We’re gonna have PETA so far up our asses…

With the amped-up 7-foot-plus monster hovering over him, Murr Jr. eeks, climbs up the ropes and out of the ring, into the waiting arms of his pimp friend. Murr Jr. squeals, as the lot of them beat feet to the back.

Bryan: I just…I can’t even…

Triumph Frost: Coward! You goddamned coward! Get back in that fuckin’ ring!

Bryan: Will you sit down, please!

Triumph Frost: Fucking coward!

By then, however, Murr Jr. is long gone, and this unnecessary sequence is thankfully over.

Bryan: Well, I don’t know what to say about--

Yale: VALLETA!!!

Rasa’s caught off guard as Valleta tries to lift him over the ropes. With an armful of leg, he lifts him off the ground…

Bryan: Could Frankie Valleta take out Rasa? Is it even possible?!?

Not quite. As quickly as he lifts the leg, Rasa’s overall mass proves to be simply too voluminous. Before Valleta can get another shot, Rasa smacks him away.

Bryan: Valleta was smart to take his shot, but he probably could have used a little bit of help there.

With Rasa taking another breather, it’s Kasidy Drake, who’s sneaking up on the big ol’ bastard.

Bryan: Drake’s trying to take advantage in what could be an elimination that could skyrocket his career into the stratosphere!

But before he can get there, the closed eye cursor opens up, and he’s suddenly detected by Phillip Kennedy, who ignores Drake’s sneak skill, grabs him by his trunks, and throws him over the top rope.

Bryan: Kennedy just eliminated Kasidy Drake!

Yale: That practice of his is probably looking better and better by the minute.

Kennedy doesn’t get much time to celebrate, as all this happened behind Rasa, who was ignoring the whole sequence. He’s not ignoring things now, however, as he levels Kennedy with a single punch.

Bryan: Good God! Did you hear that impact? I don’t think Kennedy will be much of a factor for awhile.

Yale: Good. There’s a lot of people, and I’ve sort of lost count.

Triumph Frost: I can help there. Phil Kennedy just sent over Kas Drake, so that leaves Kennedy, Desade, Brad Jackson, that dickface Zenith’s pet Rasa, Tempest’s stooge Frankie Valleta, smelly ol’ Shaman, and the bitch of all bitches, Viv Valentine.

Bryan: Well, that’s quite astute of you.

Triumph Frost: Ain’t no thang. It’s all in the script here. See?

Bryan (groaning): Ugh.

Triumph Frost: Didn’t you guys get one?

As everyone collectively grumbles, the count begins once more.

Bryan: There’s seven already in the ring. Who’s going to be the eighth to join?

Triumph Frost: I bet it’s someone lame…














Triumph Frost: Holy shit, was I wrong.

Bryan: Oh my God! He’s back in GCW! The Pit Viper himself!

Yale: We haven’t seen him since around Rampage. Where’s he been all this time?

Bryan: I don’t know and, quite frankly, don’t wanna know. What I do know is that he’s here, and he’s going after everyone!

Sure enough, after the cigarette falls to the wayside and the leather jacket goes with it, Kingsley attacks everyone and anyone in sight, landing strikes on Desade, Valentine, and Rasa alike.

Bryan: Kingsley isn’t afraid of anyone in this match, and he’s unleashing holy hell upon everyone!

Triumph Frost: This guy’s gonna take it. He’s gotta.

Bryan: Oh, you’d choose him over God, wouldn’t you?

Triumph Frost: Probably. What are you, an asshole or something?

In this case, Kingsley’s the god of kicking people’s asses, as he continues his relentless assault without prejudice.

Bryan: Terrence Kingsley is cleaning house! Who’s going to—

Yale: Rasa.

Kapow! One fist to the face, and Kingsley drops like a bag of hammers. Rasa, huffing and puffing, picks up Kingsley, and flings him into a number of folks like Valleta and Shaman’s general direction, a human bowling ball sending human pins sprawling about.

Bryan: Good lord, what strength! He gets pummeled to oblivion, and shakes it off like nothing!

Yale: Yeah, but the others ain’t so lucky.

Sure enough, Valentine and Desade are clutching at the ropes, hoping to get upright, but struggling at the task.

Bryan: The match is starting to take its toll on people. Phillip Kennedy has been in this match for almost a half an hour already, and we’re just barely halfway through.

Yale: Triumph, you were in the last DG for over 70 minutes. Any tips on how to survive this match?

Triumph Frost: I dunno. Quit botherin’ me, will ya?

When Desade and Valentine finally reach their feet, they’re pulled away by opportunistic opponents. Valleta goes after Desade, flipping her over with a gutwrench suplex, while Kennedy smashes into Valentine with a leaping knee.

Bryan: I’m sure those two were hoping to inflict more damage on each other, but it seems like that’ll have to wait its turn.

With Valleta getting the upper hand on Desade, he’s quickly stopped by Shaman, who grabs him from behind. But Valleta spins around, and brings Shaman over with a cat-like-quick swinging neckbreaker.

Bryan: What a move by the youngster!

Before he can even be proud of himself, Desade flies in and kicks him square in the teeth.

Yale: Didn’t even get to celebrate it, either.

Bryan: That woman is merciless. What won’t she do to win this match?

Yale: Are you kidding? She’ll go through hell and back to get that title shot.

Desade continues to soften up Valleta, while Kennedy continues to work on Valentine in the opposite corner. She’s hoisted up in the turnbuckle, cornered like a rat with nowhere to go, as Kennedy tenderizes her insides with a vicious barrage of boxing body blows.

Bryan: Kennedy is trying to turn Valentine’s insides to mush.

After he feels he’s done enough damage, he grabs her legs and begins the process of sending her to an early demise. But Shaman, who’s a bit woozy after having his neck cracked, grabs Kennedy and spins him around. Before Kennedy can react, Shaman knees him in the groin, grabs hold, and brings him down with a spinning powerbomb.

Bryan: Shaman inadvertently saved Valentine’s DG hopes!

Yale: Maybe he wanted to take her out himself?

When Shaman gets his wits about him, he sees a relatively helpless Valentine in the corner, and charges forward. She lifts up her legs and sends kneecaps into his sternum, and he lets out a gust of wind. He comes forward once more, and once more gets the same.

Yale: Shaman didn’t learn the first or the second time. Typical Shaman.

Bryan: Here comes Valentine!

Flying off the top rope, she latches on around his face, and with all of her strength she can find, brings him over with a hurancanrana that doesn’t quite land right.

Bryan: My God! She might have broken Shaman’s neck!

The clock begins its count once more, as bodies are once again all over the place.

Bryan: Who’s next? Who will it be?

The clock winds down…















Bryan: It’s newcomer Eddie Whisky! How much noise is he hoping to make?

The rather large Whisky goes about as fast as physics will allow him to travel, as he lumbers down to the ring and takes the steel steps inside.

Yale: He might make a lot! Just about everyone’s on the ground, and he can just start cleaning up big-time.

Smartly ignoring Rasa for the time being, Whisky goes right after Valentine, and deftly handles her with a powerbomb.

Bryan: Big move by Whisky, and I think he wants to inflict more damage just to be safe.

Yale: You’re supposed to throw ‘em outta the ring, moron!

He spots the smaller Desade, obviously using the sizable advantage he has in going after the smaller opponents. Only she’s having none of that, and lands a forearm between his legs.

Yale: So much for cleaning up.

Bryan: A desperate move by Desade that pays off big.

Yale: Desperate? Everything they do is desperate. Gotta handle your business if you want to survive. Right, Triumph?

Triumph Frost: Go fuck yourself.

Bryan: Brilliant comment.

Whisky tumbles like the tree trunk he is, and Desade struggles to get to her feet. Only she doesn’t, ‘cause Brad Jackson runs up, grabs her by the hair, and bulldogs her mush into the canvas.

Bryan: I think it’s safe to say that few have taken punishment in this event like Desade. After her grueling match with Valentine, now she has to endure at least 13 people just to get the one thing she cherishes most: a title shot.

Yale: It’s a steep mountain to climb. And she’s barely just got out of the basin.

Jackson doesn’t get much chance to follow up, as Phillip Kennedy decides to get himself a piece and throws him into the ropes for the tried but rarely successful battle royal trope "slowly try to lift him over the ropes while the other guy hangs on for dear life." Kennedy gives it the ol’ college try anyway, ‘cause it’s better than standing around like a maroon.

It also frees up Desade to get curbstomped by Valentine.

Bryan: Vivica J. Valentine has made it her mission to completely decimate Alex Pierce. Even if the heavily-favored SCCW stalwart does walk out of here with the win, she’s going to make sure it isn’t exactly upright.

Yale: Yeah, but I think Desade’d wheel herself to NC-17 regardless. Ain’t no stopping that lady. That’s why they call her a machine.

Triumph Frost: Who?

Yale: Huh?

Triumph Frost: Who calls her that?

Yale: Uhh…err…

Bryan: Enough, the both’a’yas!

Valentine keeps kicking away at Desade, unwilling to relent. No one is around to help her, as everyone’s preoccupied with their own doings. Except Rasa, who just kinda hangs around while Zenith barks orders his way.

Bryan: Pierce is in the worst way imaginable. She’s on her own, with a ferocious Vivica J. Valentine looking to not just hurt her, but maybe even injure her, or worse. If she doesn’t get out of this predicament soon, the future is looking none too bright.

Yale: Her future’s probably shot as it is. Ain’t no Amy Campbell to save you now!

Valentine has Desade at her continuous mercy, and as the clock winds down…














Bryan: And speaking of Desade’s saving grace! The Red Raver! The new United States champ! Aimz, and look at her go!

Aimz is a blur, flying down to the ring, jumping onto the ropes, and immediately springboard dropkicking the unsuspecting Vivica J. Valentine in the back of the head.

Bryan: She went right after Valentine, the woman she despicably betrayed earlier tonight.

Yale: Betrayed? How about came to her senses. Valentine is an anchor to everyone’s she’s around. Aimz just wised up and got rid of the excess weight.

Bryan: Well, Desade just got that life preserver she was probably praying for, and then some. Aimz isn’t letting up one inch.

With Valentine incapacitated, Desade rouses herself up and joins in on the beatdown. Desade picks up Valentine and whips her into the ropes. When Valentine returns, she gets a stiff kick to the head by Aimz. Valentine stumbles the other way, and gets a stiff kick from Desade. Suddenly the two are teeing off with high kicks to the head, Valentine bouncing around like a pinball.

Bryan: Did you hear those cracks? What viciousness by those two!

As Valentine sways back and forth, Aimz leaps up high, Desade goes low, and Valentine is cut in half by precision knees.

Bryan: My word! Valentine just got decimated!

Yale: Teamwork’s the name of the game here. You got a buddy to go to war with, it makes it that much easier.

Valentine doesn’t even get a breather, as the two colloquially known as DNA go to work. At least until Terrence Kingsley decides to go retro and boot Aimz in the head, while Valleta picks Desade up by the back of her neck, and drops her with a reverse double-arm chokebomb.

Bryan: Valentine just got saved once again! She’s using up all of her remaining lives in this match!

Yale: Well, look like she’s losing one more…

Sure enough, there goes Phillip Kennedy, twisting her innards about with a gutwrench suplex.

And suddenly, the unexpected happens.

Bryan: Oh no! Rasa’s on the warpath!

As if awakened like some golem in one of those "Mummy" movies, Rasa runs about, dropping bodies like this was the fourth season of "the Wire."

Bryan: Who’s going to stop him?

Yale: Everyone!

As Rasa picks off people, he doesn’t do it fast enough, as everyone collectively gangs up and goes on the offensive.

Bryan: Jackson! Desade! Valentine! Kennedy! Everyone! They’re all working together to fell the monster!

It’s an attack like no other, multiple bodies enveloping the 7-foot something Rasa. Zenith screams so loud his voice goes hoarse. The crowd is riled up into a frenzy. And then…

It happens.

Bryan: GOOD LORD! RASA THREW THEM ALL OFF OF HIM!!!

Rasa turns into a human hurricane, sending people every which way. From Frankie Valleta to Aimz, multiple people fly in every direction, and the crowd can’t contain itself.

Bryan: Never have I seen anything of the sort! Rasa treated them like they were nothing!

Yale: Here comes the second wind!

A few, like Kennedy and Shaman, give it a second go, but Rasa, even with a considerable amount taken out of him, fells them with swats from his massive limbs. Bodies go flying once more, and there’s no bother of a third attempt.

Bryan: Rasa has proven to be absolutely unstoppable.

Yale: I don’t know about that. He’s not making any attempt at any eliminations. Look at the way he’s breathing. That had to take something outta the guy.

As Rasa’s chest bobs up and down furiously, the clock strikes up once again.

Bryan: After that showing, I can’t imagine the number nineteen participant is hopeful of his future.

Yale: Let’s see who it is!














Bryan: It’s newcomer Xander Searle! This is a big opportunity for the guy to make a name for himself.

Yale: Yeah, or become a human stain courtesy of Rasa and a buncha other pissed off freaks.

Searle runs in like he’s Tugboat or the Warlord, circa 1990, and starts to clobber away at everyone in sight, a method that works about as well as holding your arms out and spinning around and spazzing out like the Ultimate Warrior, circa 1990.

Bryan: Searle is a house of fire!

His attack goes okay for a few seconds, and then he gets around to Rasa, who treats him like Shawn Michaels did to Marty Jannetty on the set of "Piper’s Pit" or whatever that was, the glass window thing, circa 1990.

Yale: And thank God almighty someone put him out.

Searle scurries away before Rasa can use him like Papa Shango did the Ultimate Warrior during that stupid feud, you know the one, circa 1990, when he was throwing up and shit. Lame.

Bryan: Searle smartly ran out of harm’s way there.

Yale: So, would now be a good time to discuss next year’s television season?

Triumph Frost: I’m gonna go take a piss break.

Yale: Good idea.

Bryan: Sit down, damn you!

Triumph goes to leave, and Yale goes to follow, but is impeded by Bryan shoving him back into his seat.

Yale: But I really gotta go!

Bryan: Use the bottle under the table like everyone else.

Yale: And by everyone else, you mean you.

Bryan: Yes, Dave. I mean me.

As Searle hopes this mornings’ steroid injection kicks in, much like Hulk Hogan’s cycle, circa 1990, people fight. And since you may, or may not be reading this, I’m just going to sort of montage this bit to save some time. Whatever, the guy didn’t RP for this anyway. Like you give a fuck (sorry Ben…).

A.) Valentine continues to get double-teamed by Aimz and Desade, much like the Hart Foundation did to some unsuspecting jobber in a loud multi-colored singlet whose name likely was "Harold" or "Burt" in a match on Saturday Night Main Event, circa 1990.
B.) Valleta, under Tempest’s watchful eye, makes mincemeat out of Searle, sort of like Randy Savage did to Miss Elizabeth behind closed doors, circa 1990.
C.) Aimz and Kennedy get into a bit of a tiff, reviving bad blood from days of a previous fed, much like two mustachioed guys like Curt Hennig or Scott Hall, before they became corpses and lushes respectively, back in the old USWA days, circa 1990.
D.) Shaman gets his turn with Searle, and Valleta and Shaman have a shaky alliance and do some damage, much like Ron Simmons and Butch Reed did as Doom, circa 1990.
E.) Using the Aimz distraction, Valentine goes apeshit on Desade, attacking relentlessly and stopping short of getting all stabby, much like Villano did to Bruiser Brody in Puerto Rico, circa 1990.
F.) Jackson executes a picture-perfect fisherman’s suplex on Searle, much like Mr. Perfect did to a jobber named "Gomer" at whatever show they had that preceded Raw, circa 1990.
G.) Rasa remains avoided, unless an errant body comes his way, and then he dominates or whatever, much like Yokozuna did when he was a monster, circa 1990. Also, Zenith plays the role of Mr. Fuji or whatever. I promise no more 1990 nonsense. Probably.

Triumph Frost: What’d I miss?

Yale: Nothing at all.

Triumph Frost: Pfft. Figures.

The clock…ahh, you know already.














Bryan: Former Television champion Aaron Fujita!

Yale: I thought he retired or died or something.

Fujita flies down to ringside and slides in, going right after Desade with a number of forearms.

Bryan: Nope, he’s here, and he’s looking to make some noise early on!

Fujita wastes no time, trying to hoist over the redhead, but Valentine comes out of nowhere.

Bryan: And Fujita’s gone just like that!

Yale: No way Valentine’s letting anyone get rid of Desade. That designation is hers and hers alone.

With Fujita shocked, Valentine starts kicking away at Desade.

Bryan: Their hatred runs deeper than anyone could possibly imagine.

Yale: Look out!

Xander Searle starts sneaking up from behind, much like a dastardly cartoon character trying to get the drop on the dashing, daring hero. But before he can up-end Valentine, he gets up-ended himself by a charging Frankie Valleta making the huge save.

Bryan: And Searle’s gone! Valleta just helped Tempest’s old nemesis!

Valentine is a bit shocked, but she sends an appreciative nod the youngster’s way, and goes back to mauling her current foil.

Bryan: I don’t think Valentine ever expected anyone to help her out, but she’s certainly thankful for that, I imagine.

Yale: Dunno how thankful she’ll be if she has to take that dude out, though.

Bryan: When it comes down to that moment, I’m sure they’ll both understand.

Triumph Frost: Christ, you two are idiots.

Of course, her mauling attempt is foiled (see what I did there? Huh? Huh...? Ahh, go to hell!) by Valleta, who rips her away and bodyslams her to the mat hard.

Triumph Frost: See?

Bryan: It’s every person for themselves, and Valleta’s laying the boots to Valentine.

Desade rises up, and not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, joins in on the attack on Valentine.

Yale: Friends and foes alike--

Bryan: Kennedy!!!

It’s Kennedy who scoops up Desade…

Bryan: VIVA LAS VEGAS! Kennedy just crushed his old SCCW running mate!

The sight of this makes Aimz none-too-happy, and she runs in and starts to attack Kennedy. They start trading blows, lefts and rights, but Kennedy’s strength is much too much for Aimz’s superior speed.

Bryan: Aimz is reeling…

As she backpedals, Kennedy gears up, and…

Bryan: LAS VEGAS LARIAT!

The impact literally sends Aimz flipping head over heels, but before Kennedy can grab her and toss her over, Desade quickly crawls over and clutches at his leg.

Yale: She’s holding on for dear life like she’s Jeff Van Gundy or something!

Bryan: Not so topical, Dave.

Kennedy tries to shake her off, but she won’t let go. Luckily for her, the distraction allows for Shaman to charge in and boot the Sin City Savior clear in the ribs.

Bryan: Shaman saved DNA!

Yale: Why?

Bryan: Who the heck knows.

As Shaman tries to clean up the remnants, numbers flash and the crowd chants.

Triumph Frost: Can I say it?

Bryan: Sure, why not.

Triumph Frost: WHO’S NEXT?!?!?

Clock blah blah blah.














Bryan: The Unified champion himself, Sexton Hardon!

Yale: I think he's just the TV champ now.

Triumph Frost: I thought his name was Theo.

Bryan: You know he changed his name!

Hardon slides into the ring and goes right for Shaman, taking the large man’s knees out from under him.

Triumph Frost: Did not.

Bryan: Did too.

Shaman isn’t going down without a fight, however, and throws ‘bows at the bald man’s shiny dome.

Triumph Frost: Did. Not.

Bryan: Did. Too.

Hardon blocks the third one tossed, though, and throws Shaman’s legs out from under him, letting him land hard on his back.

Triumph Frost: Did--

Bryan: You did! Now can it!

With Shaman down, Hardon runs over and goes after Desade, deftly attacking the knee that she’s been favoring since…forever, probably.

Bryan: Hardon’s obviously done his homework, and goes straight for Pierce’s weakened limbs.

Yale: Didn’t do too much homework. Where there’s Desade smoke…

Hardon turns around quickly enough just to see Aimz’s kneecap smash right into his chest.

Triumph Frost: There’s a whole lotta firecrotch flame.

Bryan: You two are simply insufferable.

Aimz leaps onto Hardon and attacks with punches, but it’s Terrence Kingsley who grabs the girl by the hair and pulls her off.

Bryan: What business does he have now?

Yale: Whatever it is, it ain’t gonna be pretty.

Kingsley wraps around her waist, and unleashes a snapping gutwrench suplex.

Bryan: Few could forget their battle in a cage just months ago, and no one’s forgetting the "nail in the cheek" incident.

Triumph Frost: What’s your point?

Kingsley stomps away at Aimz, only to get shoved away by Valentine, who gets in her own shots on her former friend.

Bryan: There’s a lot of hate in that ring.

Yale: You better believe it.

Kingsley shoves Valentine back, and Valentine does it once more.

Bryan: It looks like this is coming to a head now!

Valentine and Kingsley stop, look at Aimz, and then team up to get a beatdown going.

Bryan: Well! Can’t say I was expecting that to happen.

Of course, the beatdown doesn’t go as planned, as Desade rushes in to rid Valentine of the equation. Only Valentine was expecting it and flips Desade over onto her backside.

Bryan: Valentine again! Pierce has been the mercy of the Bulletproof Blonde in this match.

Valentine rolls through, finding herself mounted upon Desade’s shoulders. Pierce struggles to free herself, but ain’t goin’ nowhere, and Valentine starts reigning holy hell upon the Medusa.

Bryan: Rights and lefts! Aimz is down! So’s most everyone else!

Yale: It’s payback time!

As Valentine gets in yet another vicious shot at Desade, the clock goes.

Bryan: Only four more participants left! Who’s next? Who’s number twenty-two?














Brad Cruz poses real quick, and then sprints to the ring.

Bryan: It’s the SoCal Prophet himself!

Cruz jumps onto the apron, surveying the battles going on.

Bryan: He’s quick and he’s fresh, and that’s a big advantage.

After spotting what he likes, a smile crosses his face. He leaps onto the ropes, springboards off…

Bryan: Brad Cruz went airborne, and took out everyone!

Bodies go flying, as Cruz rolls through and lands on his feet. When he turns around, he gets a kick to the stomach from Terrence Kingsley, and gets a piledriver for his troubles.

Bryan: And the Pit Viper goes back to work!

Yale: Hey, I thought that move was banned ‘cause of concussions.

Bryan: I don’t think Kingsley cares much for rules.

As Cruz rolls around, clutching at his head, Kingsley picks him up once more and goes for another piledriver.

Yale: Yeah, but people get fined for that stuff. Isn’t that what they do in the WW—

Bryan: Dave! What did that memo say?

Yale: I dunno. They send me a lot of memos.

But before he can get the youngster up, Valleta comes charging in and nearly decapitates Kingsley with a lariat.

Bryan: You know which one.

Yale: Right. "No fictitious announcers are to reference actual existing companies."

Triumph Frost: Hey, I think I wrote that one.

Bryan: Quiet, you!

Valleta turns around, only to get a full-on redhead attack.

Bryan: It’s Aimz and Desade! They’re softening up the youngster with stiff kicks to the midsection!

Valleta tries to fight them off, but they duck his attack. When he swings around…

Bryan: Double dropkick by Desade and Aimz!

Valleta falls to the mat, a tree crashing in the woods, and Kingsley, now up, grabs them both by the back of the head, fistsful of red locks.

Bryan: These three are certainly not short on vicious history!

Before Kingsley can get a proper grasp, both extend their knees backward, and do their best to turn the Pit Viper into a soprano.

Yale: You sure said it.

Kingsley drops to his knees, they size him up, and try to crush his head like a melon with simultaneous kicks to the temple.

Bryan: Kingsley’s out! His eyes just rolled into the back of his head!

Yale: Forget out. He’s probably dead!

Hoping to capitalize on the distraction, Jackson charges forward, but the girls are expecting him fully.

Bryan: Double dropkick by DNA again!

Yale: How many’s that been?

Triumph Frost: Ahh, who cares.

It’s Kennedy’s turn, and he gets four feet to the chest.

Bryan: These fans care!

Triumph Frost: Whatever.

Shaman charges this time, and again, it’s another set of dropkicks.

Bryan: Can anyone stop DNA right now?

Yale: Doesn’t look that way.

Hardon hopes to get in on the action, but it’s no double dropkick once more. Instead, it’s a DDT by Desade, a legdrop across the back of the neck by Aimz, and a vicious amount of pummeling following.

Yale: This might be the strategy to end all strategies. Desade is a field general, and Aimz her top lieutenant. It’s time for some pain.

Bryan: Everyone’s tasted a bit of their wrath. But if Hardon remains at their mercy, his DG experience might be near non-existent.

The clock begins ticking down, and Aimz and Desade continue their relentless assault on Hardon, who covers up as best as he can.

Bryan: Things aren’t looking good for the Unified champ here…

Yale: Who’s next, though?

As the counter hits one…














Bryan: Looks like Sexton Hardon got a boost in a big way!

Redding wastes no time bolting to the ring and helping out his pal, ripping Aimz away and smashing her in the face with fists of fury. With Desade distracted for a split second, Hardon wraps around her waist, and brings her to the mat with a belly-to-belly suplex.

Bryan: And Hardon takes advantage!

Yale: And now Red and the former Ted are ganging up on Aimz!

The boots go a’flyin, as Aimz is now in defensive mode, protecting herself from the feet of the aforementioned duo. As Desade tries to rise up from all fours, she’s impeded by Valentine, who kicks her in the back of the head.

Bryan: And Valentine with a boot! And now she’s joining in on the stomp parade!

Yale: Aimz is completely helpless!

Bryan: Wait! It’s Eddie Whisky!

Whisky is up and at ‘em, and he goes over, possibly to join the stomp parade. But before he can get fully going, Desade hooks his leg, and he goes tumbling right into the man-beast that is Rasa.

Bryan: Oh no. This is not good at all.

Whisky tries to backpedal, and then he tries to escape as fast as he can, but it’s all to no avail. Rasa grabs him by the throat, lifts up the near-300 pound Whisky, and hurls him out of the ring.

Triumph Frost: See ya later, whoever you are.

Bryan: Eddie Whisky is gone!

Yale: We hardly knew ye.

Before Rasa can turn around, however…

Bryan: Valleta and Shaman! The second and third biggest after the biggest! The ring is a’rockin’ once more!

Yale: Don’t say things like that ever again, please.

Thunderous rights and lefts land upon Rasa long enough for him to get his bearings and throw the gigantic duo to the wayside. When they get up, instead of turning their combined forces towards Rasa, they focus on beating the crap outta one another.

Bryan: So much for that allegiance.

On the other side, Redding gets in a number of licks on the vulnerable Aimz. And no, that’s not a sex reference.

Bryan: Aimz and Redding have had unfinished business for quite some time.

Yale: Well, she’s US champ now, and you have to imagine he’d like to get his belt back.

Bryan: It’s not going to be an easy task, however.

Redding pins down Aimz to the mat, her arms held to her sides. With her now helpless, throws UFC-style bombs from above.

Yale: Looks pretty easy to me. Hey, quick thought. You think Kennedy might pull a fast one and use his American Dream, a la Garbage Bag Johnny a few years back?

Bryan: Considering Brad Jackson is pulping his insides, I think he’s more concerned with making it out of this match in tact.

Sure enough, Jackson and Kennedy are going at it towards the center of the ring. At least until…

Bryan: Cruz is airborne!

Body fully extended, he lands into both unsuspecting competitors, sending them sprawling about. Rolling through, he leaps onto the ropes effortlessly, and when he comes off…

Bryan: Side kick to Terrence Kingsley’s head! Brad Cruz is all over the place!

Cruz goes running again, leaping up to the top rope, and flies into Valleta and Shaman, a human cannonball spinning all about. Cruz leaps to his feet, the crowd in a frenzy.

Bryan: They are in love with Brad Cruz right now!

Cruz gets a running start and leaps both feet out, a low dropkick to Valentine, sending her away from Desade. Cruz jumps up again, and the crowd is alive once more. The chant is louder and louder.

CRUZ! CRUZ! CRUZ! CRUZ!

Cruz goes running, looking for someone, only Desade sneaks up from behind…

Bryan: MASTERMIND!

Yale: And we had such high hopes…

Bryan: The SoCal Prophet never saw it coming.

Clock again, for the penultimate time…














Bryan: Elise Ares is in Dangerous Games!

Triumph Frost: Who else was it gonna be? Koko B. Ware?

Bryan: Memo!

Triumph Frost: Shit, right. Sorry.

Ares appears in all her glory, and panders to the crowd, surveying the area, and taking her sweet ass time to get to the ring.

Bryan: It looks like she’s in no hurry to get involved in any of this.

Yale: Smart plan.

Triumph Frost: Worked for me.

Ares converses a bit with the crowd, and when she finally gets into the ring about twenty seconds after her theme faded, she surveys the field. When she sees Jackson gunning for her right out of the gate…

Bryan: Did she…? She’s hiding behind Rasa!

Yale: Now that’s the most sound strategy I’ve seen all night.

Jackson stops dead in his tracks, reminded of what going up against the monster entails. Ares blows him a raspberry, as Jackson fumes. But not long enough to avoid Shaman, who spins him around, lifts him up…

Bryan: DESERT SPIKE!!! Huge move by Shaman! Can he capitalize?

Before Shaman can do anything, however, Desade and Aimz come out of nowhere to take his knees out from under him, sending him right on his back.

Bryan: And DNA fells the giant!

Yale: Look out, girls!

Running from behind is Valentine, who grabs the back of both of their heads and bulldogs them both.

Yale: That probably hurt as much as the early reviews for HBO’s "Girls!"

Bryan: Stop referencing pop culture already!

Valentine rolls through, and goes back to using Desade like a dickwipe. Before Aimz can get involved again, she’s usurped by Hardon, who holds her arms behind her.

Bryan: Redding hasn’t made it secret that he wants to do some damage to Aimz. Looks like he’s getting his best chance of the night!

Aimz struggles to free herself, and the glee upon Redding’s face simply cannot be contained by a smile. He shadowboxes a bit, before launching a couple of fists into her solarplexis.

Bryan: Aimz has nowhere to go right now!

Yale: Fat lotta good Desade’s doing. Get up, will you?!?

Bryan: She’s kinda preoccupied with Valentine at the moment…

Yale: Lazy!

After a few more punches, Redding steps back, and lets loose a superkick to Aimz’s face. And a mere moment after impact, Hardon finishes the exchange with a right and proper release German suplex, compressing upon Aimz’s already fragile neck.

Yale: Now that’s true teamwork. Folks can learn a thing or two from them.

And just like that…

Bryan: Kennedy! He practically clotheslined Redding out of his boots!

Hardon takes none too kindly to the attack, and goes right after Redding. And the clock, for the final time tonight, runs off.

Bryan: This is it. Number twenty five. After this, there’s no one left.

Yale: Luckiest draw of all.

Bryan: Folks, who’s it gonna be? What do we have in store for us next?

And then it hits one…















Bryan: Here it comes! Here he is! We knew this would happen!

Yale: The man of the hour!

Bryan: At number twenty-five, folks, it’s the immortal Scott St…wait.

Yale: Hey, what’s going on?

Bryan: What just…wait! That’s…that’s your theme music!

Triumph Frost: It is? Hmm…oh yeah, it is.

Bryan: You?!? You’re in this match?!?

Triumph Frost: ‘Fraid so. Oh, by the way. My contract expires in two days, and I decided not to renew it.

Bryan: Well, that’s to be…wait, what?!?!?

Triumph Frost: So I’ll see you jack-offs never.

Triumph throws down his headset, scoops up his nearly empty bottle of the Goose, and leaps into the ring.

Bryan: He just…what is going on?!?

Yale: Was he serious? Is he serious?

Everyone stops, dead still, as even the crowd is unsure what to make of all this. Triumph pops off the top, downs the rest of the Goose, throws it out of the ring…and proceeds to run past everyone, tongue out, middle fingers extended, and jumps over the top rope to the arena floor.

Bryan: Did he...? He eliminated himself?

Yale: That’s three so far tonight! What the hell, man? How is anyone supposed to pad their stats that way?

Triumph lands on the outside, as everyone is still a bit dumbstruck. Triumph takes a bow, and the crowd is still unsure of what’s going on. When a drunk Triumph spots Tempest, she sneers his way. He, however, stumbles over to her, wraps around her waist, and gives her a big hug and twirls her around.

Bryan: What is he doing?!?

Yale: Saying goodbye. Err, maybe?

When Triumph puts Tempest down, she’s a bit frustrated and flustered, not sure what his deal is. Triumph, however, spots a familiar face in the crowd, and walks right over to him.

Bryan: Oh no. Triumph and Jay Terror. This can’t be good.

Triumph says only two words to the bandana-clad man…

Triumph Frost: Space monkey.

…and slaps him right upon his still-shaven dome. Terror lunges forward, but Triumph leaps back out of arm’s reach, and security does the rest to keep the future Hall of Famer at bay.

Bryan: Is there no end to his chicanery?

Yale: Nope. Not now, not ever.

Triumph takes his one last long walk all the way to the back, and though it seems some of the crowd has figured out the events transpiring, it’s much too late for a reaction as Triumph disappears into the back.

Meanwhile Terror is peeved, Tempest is confused, and the rest of the folks in the ring go back to mauling one another.

Bryan: Well, that was...you know what? That’s exactly how I imagined that would happen were it ever to happen.

Yale: A card ‘til the end.

Bryan: You know he never liked you, right? He never liked anyone, for that matter.

Yale: Apples and oranges.

Bryan lets out a belabored grunt, as mayhem ensues.

Bryan: Well, whatever that was, we’ve completed the entire twenty-five. The top twelve are left in the ring: Cruz, Shaman, Jackson, Valentine, Aimz, Redding, Ares, Hardon, Kennedy, Desade, Kingsley and Rasa. Only one will walk out with their card punched for NC-17’s main event. Who’s it gonna be?

Yale: Still Rasa, baby. Still Rasa.

Battle pockets have formed. Valentine and Cruz work on Valleta in the corner. Jackson, Redding and Hardon go after Shaman. Desade and Aimz work on Kennedy. And Ares continues to shield herself behind Rasa, whom no one’s touching at the current juncture.

Bryan: Everyone’s going after everyone. How is this going to turn out?

Suddenly, the pockets break up just as fast as they came together. Valleta tosses Cruz out of his way, and boots a charging Valentine down with a huge kick. Shaman shoves Jackson into Desade, and they start attacking one another. With Hardon and Redding still attacking, Shaman grabs both of their heads, and smashes them into one another, coconut-style. Ares…still cowers behind Rasa, who no one seems to want to bother with still.

Bryan: It’s pure bedlam in there!

It’s not long before Shaman and Valleta find themselves staring each other down, and they waste no time in trading blows. The crowd reels with each successive hit, the ring shaking all the same.

Bryan: These two titans aren’t holding anything back right now!

They trade back and forth. Shaman connects, Valleta connects. This goes on for a bit until Valleta ducks a Shaman haymaker and starts running towards the ropes. When Shaman turns around, Valleta is bouncing back, full-force, and rams into Shaman with a shoulderblock.

Bryan: Shaman’s reeling! This doesn’t look good!

Valleta comes forward with a second shoulderblock, and this one is enough to send the big man over the top.

Bryan: There goes Shaman!

Yale: CRUZ!!!

Cruz comes flying out of nowhere with a missile dropkick square into Valleta’s chest. Valleta goes stumbling back and over the ropes.

Yale: Valleta’s gone!

Bryan: No! He caught the ropes!

Cruz leaps up and sees Valleta holding on for dear life and charges forward at him. Only he doesn’t see Desade side-stepping in his way to backdrop him high into the air.

Bryan: Cruz is airborne, and not in a good way!

Cruz’s arms go flailing, and he tries to catch the ropes or the ring or anything as he flies out. Instead, he only gets air and a face-full of protective mats.

Bryan: Cruz has been eliminated! Desade had that scouted perfectly!

There’s to be no moment of respite, however. The Medusa will not get her chance to even breathe.

Bryan: VALENTINE!!!

Out of nowhere, the Black Mariah pounces, her once voracious attack now doubled in intensity. Fists give way to claws. Bruises turn to scratches. Desade covers up best as she can, but there is no relent in Valentine.

Bryan: The hatred is there! You can see it in between the blood-soaked skin catching underneath her fingertips.

Yale: That chick’s gone crazy!

Aimz rushes in to stop the madness, but Valentine smashes her in the bridge of the nose with an errant elbow.

Bryan: Her nose might be broken! And Valentine doesn’t give one ounce of a damn!

Yale: Nor should she. Those two have treated her like their personal doormat, stringing her along carelessly. This is the Valentine I’ve come to know and love. Vicious, without morals.

Her attack picks up just a little bit more, as Desade’s attempts to block are for naught.

Yale: I wanna see more of this Valentine!

More and more strikes hit their intended target, and Desade begins to fade. Valentine scoops her up, bringing her to a standing position, and takes a few steps back.

Bryan: This could be it! This could be the end of Desade as we know it!

The crowd is screaming bloody murder in favor of Valentine, and as she gets her running start and gets ready to make the leap…

Bryan: Terrence Kingsley!

…out of nowhere, Kingsley appears, running behind her, using her forward momentum to unceremoniously dump her out of the ring. The crowd, understandably, in shock, as is Desade. Valentine looks upward at Kingsley, who can’t help but flash a smile.

Bryan: Kingsley…just eliminated Vivica J. Valentine.

Valentine is in disbelief, shaking her head, as she heads to the back.

Bryan: For it to end like this for Valentine is almost heartbreaking. She…

Yale: What the hell is she doing?!?

Valentine isn’t about to feel sorry for herself, does an about face, and rushes back to the ring, only to be stopped by a wall of referees. The crowd serenades their rebuff attempts with boos.

Bryan: Valentine wants back in! She wants another shot at Desade!

Yale: C’mon, Viv! This is embarrassing! You’ve lost. Don’t take this any further.

The refs are hardly any match for Valentine, but when a group of security and officials runs down and gets in her way, it proves to be too much.

Yale: Finally, some sanity.

Bryan: Look at her eyes. That burning, seething rage. I don’t think anyone can really stop her.

And as she attempts to burst through the wall of humanity, watching everyone in the ring watching her like a caged animal, she relents. Horror befalls her, and she darts her eyes away, head downward, as she gets the hell away from ringside.

Bryan: That look…I don’t think Viv is sure what the hell she’s doing anymore.

Yale: None of know us, either, JB.

As security follows closely to prevent another jailbreak run, Kingsley turns around to meet Aimz, who dropkicks the smile off his face and his head with it.

Bryan: Oh my gosh! The Pit Viper…Aimz! Aimz took out Kingsley!

Yale: That’s some years of revenge right there, settled ever-so-slightly.

Bryan: Elise Ares!! What the heck is she thinking?!?

Sure enough, Ares makes her first real noise in the match, going right after the wounded Desade. Of course, she only gets a few strikes in before Aimz pulls her away. Ares goes right for Campbell’s broken nose, but doesn’t even get a shot off. Desade grabs her by the shoulder, and…

Bryan: THE SPIDER’S KISS!

The force sends Ares flying backwards and over the top rope.

Bryan: And there goes one more!

Yale: Yay for action! About damned time!

With both girls quickly discussing strategy, it doesn’t go so well, especially when Frankie Valleta runs over and clotheslines them both in the back of the head.

Bryan: He just sent DNA flying!

The two sprites, however, hold on for dear life. With Tempest’s encouragement, he goes in for the attack, kicking away at the both of them relentlessly.

Bryan: This could be a heckuva coup for Valleta here!

For some reason, however, Jackson looks to put the kibosh on his progress. Hooking his arms, he spins him ‘round, and…

Bryan: SOMETHING WICKED!!! Second time we’ve seen that tonight!

Yale: Valleta bottomed out faster than a Nic Cage movie.

Valleta sits face down, and Jackson moves in for the kill, only to get the former Red and Ted’s special bar burning, and they go down, down-forward, forward, and all three punch buttons pressed together to unleash holy hell upon Jackson.

Bryan: Hardon and Redding! They’re going after one of the favorites!

Yale: Look, DNA crawled back into the ring!

Jackson only need block for a few moments, as the former Red and Ted find themselves occupied by Aimz and Desade. And if you’re curious of pairing, it’s Redding and Aimz, and Desade and Hardon. Okay?

Bryan: It’s a brou-ha-ha! It’s a donnybrook! It’s utter chaos!

Yale: I’m truly ashamed of my profession right now.

It is female-on-male violence, the type up-yer-own-ass-like folks look down upon. Unless it’s Batman and Catwoman. That folks are cool with.

Jackson picks himself upward, taking a moment to enjoy the fact that someone’s not trying to cave his face in. He’s still a bit woozy, which allows for…

Bryan: VALLETA!!!

The youngster flies forward, only for Jackson to duck his advances.

Bryan: Valleta’s exposed! Not a good place!

Expecting something big, are you? Nope. Jackson goes low, instead.

Bryan: The Great Equalizer!

Yale: He gave a name to a low blow? Is he mad?

The shot to his twig and berries is an event like none other upon this young man’s life, and…ahh, it hurts like fuck, and he stumbles back into the ropes, and Jackson helps him by throwing his feet out from under him.

Bryan: Mad or not, it worked!

Yale: Guess so. Still a shot to the nuts.

Bryan: Valleta’s heading home proud, but still disappointed.

Yale: What, d’you write the kid’s blog page for him?

Valleta is helped up by Tempest, as both get a decent reaction from the crowd. Tempest is an alumnus, you forget, I’m sure. And a super bad-ass chick. ‘Sup, Leah? Anyway, Jackson collapses, in time to see Redding, Hardon, Aimz, and Desade to retreat to opposite yet team-specific parallel corners.

Bryan: This ring is about to explode in a huge way.

Yale: You mean like Ron Jeremy in--

Bryan: No! I do not mean that!

As the tension rises, as the crowd gets back into the game, as everyone is ready for something along the lines of a nuclear reaction…

Bryan: What’s Grady Palmer doing!

Yale: Those are handcuffs! He handcuffed…

Bryan: …Sexton Hardon to the ropes?!?

Hardon’s eyes light up, but Redding is next to furious. He runs over, yelling at his manager, constantly screaming over and over again "those were for me!" before capping it off with a rather whiny "for meeeeeeeeee!"

Bryan: Looks like a bit of a mix-up for the team.

Hardon tries to pull his arm away to no avail, as Redding is beside himself. DNA reforms in Aimz’s corner, watching the three of them meltdown like Three Mile Island circa 1990. I know I said I stopped. I lied.

Bryan: If they don’t get their heads together, it could be bad.

Yale: Where’s Hardon going to go? This is the best thing that coulda happened to him. He’s pretty much assured at least an honorable mention!

On the other side, Desade and Aimz don’t seem to be on the same page. Aimz decides to take a page from Fleetwood Mac and go her own way, springing towards Redding.

Bryan: Aimz is charging!

Redding, however, catches her out of the corner of his eye, and rolls out of the way. Instead, she flies into Hardon’s waiting arms, and he flips her over the top rope.

Bryan: Aimz is out! Aimz is out!

Many people are in shock. But perhaps none more than Desade herself, who can’t believe what happened actually happened.

Bryan: Oh no. Look at Alex Pierce.

Yale: She is pissed!

Were she a cartoon character, steam would be pouring out of her ears. Instead, her eyes turn to slivers. Her fists clench.

Bryan: Desade is normally so reserved, so calculated. But when it comes to Amy Campbell…

Yale: All bets are indeed off, JB.

It’s like the spark to the bullet. You never see it, but it comes nonetheless. Her fury directs completely towards Alex Redding, with punches and kicks that even Chris Brown wouldn’t throw. Redding goes last gasp and reaches out his arm to catch Hardon’s grasp, but Desade never gives him the chance.

Bryan: Redding is being torn to shreds! He can’t hold out much hope now!

Redding’s ribs are used as target practice from the missiles that are Desade’s lethal limbs. Hardon screams at Grady Patrick to free him, but Patrick fumbles through his pants like a buffoon, to no avail. When Hardon turns around, Kennedy is there, ready to use Hardon’s handcuffs to his advantage.

Bryan: Desade is trouncing Redding, and now Hardon himself is helpless!

Yale: Meanwhile, Jackson’s trying to catch his breath, and Rasa continues his brilliant strategy of staying the hell out of dodge. I’m gonna make out like a bandit, I tell you!

Redding cries for mercy, but there’s none to be given, as one final extended kick sends Redding to the outside.

Bryan: JACKSON!

Sure enough, the former US champion flies in with a tackle, driving Desade hard into the canvas. Patrick runs over to help up Redding and brings him over Hardon’s way.

Bryan: Jackson is relentless with his attack! Hardon and Kennedy are still mixing it up! And Aimz and Redding are still ringside!

Yale: Now it’s real madness!

With Kennedy tying up Hardon, Redding, now over his way, is screaming words of encouragement. So of course he never gets to see Aimz, who cracks Quinn’s sign across his back.

Bryan: Redding is down! And, what…Quinn Gregory’s fishing through his tights!

Yale: Some guys get all the luck.

As Redding’s eyes roll into the back of his head, Quinn finally finds what she was looking for: Hardon’s handcuff key.

Bryan: Aimz and Quinn! They’ve unlocked Hardon’s handcuffs! He doesn’t even notice yet!

Hardon realizes he has both hands free, but uses that free hand to punch Kennedy some more. The two trade blows, until it becomes something of a primal urge kicking in, the two grappling with one another, trying to send the other over to the arena floor.

Bryan: RASA!!!

Stuck in their own world, Hardon and Kennedy are too pressed with each other to see the beast amble over, and he finishes them both off, unceremoniously clotheslining them over the top rope. The two land in a heap upon one another.

Bryan: Rasa took out both Hardon and Kennedy!

Yale: Look out!

Before Rasa can react, Desade and Jackson rush up, each grabbing a leg, and flip Rasa right out of the ring!

Bryan: Rasa’s gone! Good lord, they did it!

Yale: Nooo!!!

Jackson and Desade land on their asses, both out of breath. Both nearly completely exhausted.

Bryan: Desade and Jackson entered back-to-back, and now, only one will get that World title chance!

They stare at one another, and it’s Desade that lunges forward and attacks from the seating position, catching Jackson completely off guard.

Bryan: She’s not even throwing proper punches right now! She’s just clawing and scratching and doing anything she can to put Jackson down for good!

Yale: The lady’s probably the most dangerous person on the roster right now. And I dunno if you’ve looked at the roster, but we’ve got a collection that’d make mental patients crap their pants in terror.

Bryan: Very vivid imagery there, Dave.

Jackson throws her off, but like a wounded animal, Desade leaps up and pounces again, continuing to do anything and everything she feels necessary to put him off his game. And again, he throws her off. When she pounces a third time, Jackson uses whatever’s left in the tank, catches her in mid-air, and drives her into the mat with a spinebuster as the crowd howls.

Bryan: What a counter! These two are running on fumes at this point. Something’s going to give, and give soon.

Yale: Yeah, but someone’s gotta get up first.

It’s Jackson that manages to rouse himself from the mat, but Desade, closer to the ropes, uses them to climb upright.

Bryan: Both Jackson and Desade are up, and they’re both running on fumes here!

Their eyes catch, and it’s Desade who once again goes on the offensive.

Bryan: Again! Here she comes!

She lunges forward, grabbing around his waist, pushing him back towards the ropes, but Jackson remains steadfast, preventing her forward progress. He clasps both hands and brings them down upon her back. She continues, adrenaline blocking her pain receptors, her drive refusing to let her quit.

Bryan: Nothing will stop Alexandra Pierce from a shot at the World title!

Jackson drops another axehandle across her back. And another. And another. And two more, until she finally drops in exhaustion, Jackson going to ground with her.

Bryan: Jackson stopped her attack! But can he capitalize?

Yale: He better! He may not get a better chance than this.

With both struggling to get upright, Jackson is up just a hair faster than Desade, and he throws a haymaker of a left.

Bryan: Desade ducks!

With Jackson’s arm still moving forward, she grabs him by the wrist and whips him towards the ropes. On the comeback, she nails him with a jumping kick that seems to take just as much out of her as him.

Bryan: Jackson’s stumbling towards the ropes…

Yale: He went over! He went over!

Bryan: No! He caught himself!

The crowd gasps, as Jackson hangs onto the ropes, pulling himself onto the apron. Desade has next to nothing left in the tank, the pain of her leg and previous match taking its toll. But she goes full throttle, seeing the end, and jumps at him with a flying forearm.

Bryan: Jackson’s teetering! He’s losing his grip!

Jackson, still, holds on somehow. Desade, the fury rising once more, comes flying in with a second forearm.

Bryan: Is this enough? Will Jackson go over?

Jackson hangs on yet still, as Desade is now nearly literally fuming. She takes a few extra steps back, gets a running start as best as she can muster, and…

Bryan: Here comes Desade! Is this it?!?

…Jackson pulls the top rope down just as Desade goes airborne. She clears the ropes, and lands a few feet away from the ring. Jackson lets go of the ropes and rolls back into the ring, face down, barely breathing, as a menagerie of fireworks explode in unison.

Bryan: Brad Jackson!!! Brad Jackson is the winner of the 2012 Dangerous Games! My word!

Yale: Wow! I certainly didn’t have him in my top four pool. Which means I’m gonna be owing a lot of bad people money.

Bryan: Your gambling problem notwithstanding, what a night for the former United States champion! The man has been on an undeniable roll, and he’ll continue that straight into NC-17, with a date with the champ, Johnny Borealis.

Yale: Hard-fought bout, JB. I really thought Rasa would pull it out, but in the end, Jackson might have shocked us all with this win.

Bryan: You bet. Well, that’s all there is for tonight. We’re glad you joined us here in St. Louis. For my colleague David Yale, this is James Bryan saying…we’ll see you at WorldWide!

Jackson slowly rises to his feet, a bit unaware of what’s going on. The crowd is mixed, but when ref Josh Briggs enters the ring and holds up Jackson’s arm and he hears his theme music playing, you can’t get the smile off the man’s face.

Meanwhile, Desade is comforted by Quinn Gregory and Aimz, offering what little comfort there is they can give to the Spider in the Web. Jackson jumps onto the turnbuckle and revels in his moment. And as the fireworks continue to rattle off…

We fade to black.

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Dangerous Games 2012 Credits


Results compiled and archived with Backstage V2.