Changes

“Whatever you Became” by Cold begins to play over the speakers. The Rebel fans jump to their feet for the remaining half of Fine Wine.

Larry Gordon: I suppose McNasty might shed some light on what happened to Alex Wilkie last week.

McNasty stops at the top of the ramp, and holds up his arm, getting a bigger response from the fans. He slowly makes his way to the ring, less than the normal jump in his step. When he reaches the ring, McNasty rolls in, and signals for his music to stop. He speaks.

McNasty: Last week, my best friend Alex Wilkie was hospitalized.

A couple of boos from the crowd.

McNasty: Sadly, just like in our match against Allen Chaney a few weeks ago, Alex was unable to defend himself due to his current health and weight issues.

Linzi Martin: So sad.

McNasty: Right now, Alex is in the hospital, trying to get better. I spoke with some of the hospital staff, and they said he should be able to start physical therapy in a few weeks. Additionally, they will work with him on his weight. And man, I couldn’t be happier.

Larry Gordon: That sounded a little off.

McNasty: You see…as I said, Alex is my best friend. It has been killing me for weeks now to see what he has become. He’s let his weight go, and it’s obviously effecting his in and out of ring life. And that’s why, when he was lying on the ground in a pile of his own blood, barking out, “WHY MARK? WHY!”, I told him it was for his own good.

Linzi Martin: What…

Stunned silence from the crowd.

McNasty: What kind of friend would I be to sit back, and continue to let Alex gorge himself like a black hole? The man couldn’t fight off a foot on his throat, or get off his back! He needed a wake-up call! And I was the only person willing to give it to him.

The initial shock is over. The fans are going crazy with boos. Some are throwing drink cups.

McNasty: Alex was no longer the man I was proud to call my tag partner. He wasn’t the same man from Grade-A Nastyness who won the tag team titles with me. He was no longer the man I had wars with in the Blazenwing Wrestling Federation for the US title.

McNasty doesn’t sound angry. He sounds distressed, and frustrated.

McNasty: It was killing me to see Alex do this to himself. I tried talking to him. I tried being subtle. Hell, I tried not being so subtle. But nothing got through to him! DON’T ANY OF YOU GET IT??? Because he didn’t…And I wasn’t going to sit back and let my best friend die because I didn’t get through to him! The next twinkie he stuffed in his bulging gullet might as well have been a loaded gun! I did what I had to, and because of me, Wilkie has a chance to go back to who he was. He has a chance to get better, and become someone who can be respected again.

McNasty lets the mic fall to his side for a second as he looks down. The boos are still coming, as people continue to pelt the ring with whatever random items they can find to throw.

McNasty: As hard as Wilkie always fought to gain respect, no one ever gave it to him. He won the PWA Who’s the Man…He was BWF Tag Champion, PWA Grizzly Beer Champion, PWA World Champion…but it was never good enough. When Allen Chaney forced Wilkie to tap by choking him with his foot…that was the final straw. I did what I had to, for my friend. And if you idiots can’t get that…too damn bad.

McNasty drops the mic, rolls out of the ring, and begins marching to the back. Fans throw whatever they can get in their hands at him as he marches up the ramp.

Larry Gordon: Even I think that’s twisted.

Linzi Martin: I somehow doubt Alex Wilkie would appreciate what his “friend” did for him.

McNasty marches through the curtains to the back where he is met by Marvin Humperdink.

Marv: Hi Mark. I

McNasty: Who are you?

Marv: I’m

McNasty: Don’t care. Here about Jaice Wilds…right?

Marv: Well, yes, I

McNasty: I want to make this perfectly clear, and I want to do it quick; as Jaice is not worth the time it takes to say his name. Jaice Wilds is insignificant. He’s cannon fodder, enhancement talent, a jobber, whatever the hell you want to call him. In my world, at this point after beating him so many times, Wilds is a flee, on the butt of a dog, on a leash, in a fenced in yard. He isn’t intimidating, he gets nothing done, and you only know he’s around because once in a while the dog scratches it’s ass. He’s an automaton. He shows up, gets in the ring, rolls around for a minute, loses, and goes back to the backstage area; just to fly to another city to wash rinse and repeat. On the rare occasion he wins, it is only because whatever opponent he is fighting, is broken. It happens to the best of us. Every once in a while, someone is off their game. Whether something is on their mind, they’re injured, or who knows what. But the end result is Jaice Wilds squeaks by. Quintessentially, it’s the same as him going into the woods, finding a dead bear stuck in a trap, and shooting it in the back of the head. He walks away with a bear pelt, not caring how he acquired it. And the saddest thing of all is any attempt to really explain this to Wilds would be in vein. That over inflated ego of his somehow acts as a shield, protecting him from the harsh reality that is his life. So end results is, even if I tried to tell Wilds he a nobody, a never-will-be, and a waste of human flesh, he wouldn’t care. I could talk about all the things I’ve done that he will never do; he still wouldn’t care. I could go step by step, listing every single lose he has ever had…which is a lot…and say, THIS HAPPENS ALL THE TIME; YOU SUCK! He’d still emit that undeserved arrogance that he has done nothing to deserve, and try to tell me he will whoop my ass. That…whoever you are…is why I will not stand here, and go through all the hoops and bs that most people do when talking down to an opponent. Because no matter what I say, Wilds is going to pretend it doesn’t exist. And to me, instead of standing here spitting out words he won’t ever acknowledge, I’d rather go to the ring, and give him a pair of matching black eyes he has to squint at every morning. I’m done.

McNasty shoves past Humperdink, leaving Marv looking bewildered.

The Roof is on Fire

As we fade in, we come to view Maya Kalis squinting as she gazes over the office of General Manager she now finds herself in. She tip toes by the desk, staring mournfully at the papers stacked and waiting for her to go through. Jeremy Gold is just outside the office door, peeking in momentarily before quietly slipping away down the hall. Maya finally takes a deep breath and sits down, basking in the glory of her newfound position. She shoves that stack of papers off her desk and pulls herself in. Tapping the desk, she doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself.

Maya: Why would anyone want this job?

It’s then she notices an odd looking phone on the desk, one with an LCD screen. She turns it on, and finds a varied selection of apps from Twitter to Facebook to Youtube and more. She examines it, puzzled, until it begins to ring. She cocks an eyebrow, and then picks up the phone.

Maya: Hey…

On the screen sits Adrian, staring back at her through his bandaged face.

Adrian Kalis: Settling in well, Maya?

Maya: Yeah I guess… Fuck is this contraption?

Adrian Kalis: It’s a video phone. I made sure one got put in the office, and since I see you’re in a blazer and not a white tanktop with no bra on you’re taking this job seriously.

Maya scoffs.

Maya: Well, yeah! I got power! Did you know that when I got here this morning I was going over all the contracts REBEL Pro has?

Adrian Kalis: And?

Maya: Well, we’re paying a lot of people who never even show up to work! So I fired them all.

Adrian coughs, clears his throat and leans forward.

Adrian Kalis: Who?!

Maya shrugs.

Maya: Those Uproars dudes. Gone! Might & Magic?! Jethro Hayes?! Gone! Matthew Engel?!

Adrian Kalis: Let me guess.

Maya: Gone! I’m cleaning house here. Doing good things.

Adrian Kalis: I’m glad to see you haven’t let the power get to your head…

Adrian we imagine, rolls his eyes.

Maya: Done checking up on me?

Adrian leans back, sighing heavily.

Adrian Kalis: Listen…

Maya: You’re not my brother?! I fucking KNEW it! So which one of us is adopted? I imagine it’s you.

Adrian puts a clenched fist forward from where he is.

Adrian Kalis: Maya. Get out.

Adrian motions someone to him, our image of where he is becomes clearer. He’s in his hospital bed, with his own videophone by his side. He is helped with lighting a cigarette, because fuck the rules.

Maya: Still mad Lacey Gloria dumped your ass after dad burned half your face off?

Adrian Kalis: No. The fun and games are over. You need to leave that building right now Maya.

Maya perks up, suddenly this has gotten a bit more serious.

Maya: And why would I do that? Don’t get jealous with me because I’ve finally got a purpose around here.

Adrian Kalis: Maya. I knew you wouldn’t listen. But I also knew I had to give you fair warning.

Maya: Warning? For what?

Adrian Kalis: I’ve made some deals from this fucking prison they call a hospital.

Maya: You’re talking about UX coming back in Mexico?

Adrian Kalis: Not just that. I’ve made a deal with someone who is going to do some bad things tonight there.

Maya: Oh God. You’re bringing Legion back aren’t you?

Adrian Kalis: Legion? What, no. What is about to happen will change everything, Maya.

Maya: And why’s that? Because I’m now the uber Kalis by virtue of you and dad murdering each other last month?

Adrian leans back as a nurse comes up behind him, and begins unraveling the bandages over his face. He flicks the ash from his cigarette into a cup and waits. The crowd in the Aggression Arena gasps, and Maya herself covers her mouth.

Adrian Kalis: No, sweet sister.

Adrian takes a drag off his smoke, exhaling as we look over how black and red his burned skin is over his face.

Adrian Kalis: Because by the end of this night, I won’t be the only one burning.

Adrian winks, and hangs up. Maya leans back, shrugs and then spins around in her big leather chair.

Maya: My entire family is fucking insane.

And with that, we fade to ringside…

Singles Match

Jaice Wilds versus Mark McNasty

With both Jaice and McNasty in the ring, McNasty sought to immediately put an end to Jaice Wilds. He started off by whipping Jaice into the ropes, and as Jaice came back Jaice attempted a cross body splash but Mark McNasty caught him, spun him around and took him down with a body slam that shook the ring. Jaice back on his feet with Mark but McNasty wasn’t about to relent. McNasty whipped Jaice into the ropes once again, but this time Jaice with a springboard back elbow cracked McNasty in the chest. All this did was have McNasty stumble back and leave Jaice prone, to which McNasty dropped and applied a sleeper hold. Wrenching the move, McNasty said not a word as the much smaller man in Jaice Wilds was struggling to get out of the hold. Kicking the canvas, Jaice began to lose conscientiousness. McNasty continued to wrench the hold.

The referee raised Jaice’s hand once, it dropped. He raised Jaice’s hand twice, it dropped. He raised it for a third time, but at the last second Jaice Wilds showed some life in him as he began desperately banging his fist backwards in an attempt to punch his way out using McNasty’s face. Mark McNasty let go and lifted Jaice back up to his feet, then headbutt him for good measure. Jaice stumbled backwards then hit a springboard superkick on McNasty that sent the former Aggression Champion into the ropes. Jaice with a dropkick puts McNasty down. He covers! 1! KICK OUT! And a powerful kickout at that as McNasty throws Jaice Wilds off of him. Jaice now up and so is McNasty. Jaice Wilds with a spinning heel kick pushes McNasty back. Jaice goes to the top rope but McNasty follows him and hits Totally Nasty! Jaice shakes in the ring as McNasty climbs to the top rope himself now, and hits Malicious Intent! The crowd goes nuts as McNasty covers, hooking the leg.

1!

2!!

3!!!

Winner: Mark McNasty

Fathers of Undisputed

Back from commercial break, all three members of Wrestling’s Undisputed are stationed inside the ring already, with both World Heavyweight Championship and Undisputed Tag Team Championships present among either their waists or shoulders, donned proudly. Music is fading out, so the trio must have finished their entrances seconds ago in accordance to home-viewers returning.

What can be gathered by Sean Robinson, Cesar Salazar and Deicide’s stances is a sense of fulfillment, and sartorial confidence with how they present themselves — Deicide is a crafty southerner said to be a few riveted buttons short of a full denim camicia di forza (known stateside as a Texas turtleneck). Cesar Salazar has the ability to put together 2 million disguises with just 25 well-curate pieces. Having a face so damn handsome, no one even notices Sean Robinson is pairing a new Bruins jersey with old ragged jeans.

Stepping forward with a microphone in hand, Cesar Salazar delays his speech to look over the crowd once more.

Cesar Salazar: “Few weeks removed from Merry Time Massacre, Wrestling’s Undisputed stands before you all as Undisputed Heavyweight Champions of the World, just as we said we’d be. Sean Robinson, who was thrown off the top of the hell in a cell but remarkably managed to catch himself with a single hand, came back to overcome the odds by trademark finishing Phoenix with his patented Tiger Driver 91 – a move so ferocious and unforgiving, when Phoenix was driven through the cell rooftop and inevitably crash-landed onto the canvas way below, the former Champion was seemingly temporarily paralyzed. And where has he been since? Likewise to that devastation, Johnny Maverick was driven through a table outside the ring by my partner Deicide via jumping spike piledriver from atop a turnbuckle. And Anna Mathews? Well, I merely had to push a ladder over with my feet to send her falling backward to the outside of the ring and through an announcer table – a move I’m not necessarily proud of per se but I do take pride in my strength to see the match through.”

A pause is taken for Cesar to briefly smile.

Cesar Salazar: “Our accomplishments at Merry Time warms my heart. We’ve conquered, we’ve divided and now we must continue this pummeling all because the image of REBEL Pro must be reshaped to fit that of one with depth, vision and quality. Depth: our promise to restore the dignity in these tag championships by not just winning the belts but the build to them would be full of thorough victories over countless tag teams, which we’ve done so mercilessly for the past six months without one loss. Vision: to redefine ‘Undisputed’ not as an arrogant title but one given to those who’re capable of innovative techniques, unparallel aptitude and attractive personalities; three men willing to become REBEL’s poster icons and add diversity to its one-dimensional exploitation of violence. Quality: when we wrestle a match, you fans know damn well it’ll be a blockbuster- a match that many will remember for years to come. When we vow to defeat someone or accomplish a particular objective, we see it through. No bullshit excuses. No attempts to save-face. We’re accurate and realistic in your perceptions of us.”

Handing the microphone over to Deicide, the Sacred steps forward to speak whilst Salazar steps back into line next to Robbo.

Deicide: “You people all heard The KKK try very hard to dispute us in the build to Merry Time. They talked about ending the ‘UX Invasion’ – when, uh, they’ve been a few months late on that story arc- and just winning because, well, shucks, that’s what they do, right? Evidently, no. Salazar and I beat the piss out of them. We made damn sure to remind those remaining two tag teams ‘Fine Wine’ and ‘Toughest Bastards’ that your petty attempts to call us pretentious, overrated and whatever other unfunny, unwarranted ‘truths’ you try to throw at us won’t stick simply because that’s not how you go about disproving us. If you wish to be Undisputed REBEL Tag Champions, I suggest, of all things to do first, for you miserable shits to act like TEAMS. None of you act like a team. Hell, rumors are abound that KKK might be splitting up soon since they can’t seem to do much right. What kind of message is that? If they do split, which isn’t unreasonable to believe, that just goes against their whole speech two weeks ago about winning the tag belts so that they can DO REBEL JUSTICE!”

Deicide spits at the canvas.

Deicide: “Disgusting. Truly, you two are insufferable. Maverick, a guy who tries so hard to be a funny, likable and in-ring badass, only manages to conjure the personality of a lonesome teenager who watches reruns of Friends and thinks that’s the sort of humor people are into. It’s not cute to steal our lifestyles, Johnny. We actually do badass shit and be likable just by wrestling topnotch matches and saying credible stuff. It’s really that simple, John. That’s all people want from us wrestlers: truth. Why do you think they call ‘shoots’ shoots? It’s because a bullet generally injures someone badly upon collision due to its piercing speed and accuracy. Therefore, Johnny, when we merely say we’re the best tag team in the world – well, when you’ve defeated as many people as we have and the execution of it all is kept in mind, it’s really hard to dispute.”

Deicide steps back to give the microphone to fellow Undisputed member, Sean Robinson.

Robinson: “As my colleagues have pointed out, Undisputed isn’t just a word. It’s not a title you carry around. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a way of being. If you’re not Undisputed from birth, you’ll never become it. You can’t earn that. It has to be ingrained in your DNA, your very soul. Otherwise you’ll always be second-best.

Speaking of second-best, where’s Rob-Rob lately? I haven’t heard from him since I sent him crashing through the roof of that cell back in Montreal. Probably scurried back to PWA like the cockroach he is. Or more likely, wheeled himself back there. If his arms even work enough to push a wheelchair. Maybe he got one of those blow-tubes like Christopher Reeve had.”

The off-color joke elicits a groan from the audience, but Robbo has a good chuckle regardless.

Robinson: “As for my arm, no problem. Just a minor dislocation, no torn muscles or ligaments. Looked pretty great on TV, though. Got a chance to watch a replay of that match this week, and damn I looked good. Which really makes me wonder why anyone would bother stepping into the ring with me. I’m the greatest champion in two different companies now, and let’s face it, there’s not much competition for this belt anymore. I don’t even know who the number one contender is.”

Deicide leans over and whispers something in Robbo’s ear, and the Heavyweight Champ bursts out in a fit of laughter.

Robinson: “ALLEN CHANEY? HA! Now that’s a joke. Jesus, that’s the level of competition I’ve got to face here? This company is fucking pathetic. Allen goddamn Chaney is the number one contender… You know what, fuck it. Allen, you can come for your title shot any time. If you think I’m going to worry about some fat fuck with a terrible set of mutton chops, you’ve got another thing coming. Next month, next week, hell tomorrow for all I care. Let’s book this shit and get your beating over with.”

It’s Confidence

Allen is in the Kitchen area of the apartment he is currently sharing with Johnny Maverick. A woman getting dressed exits Johnnys room and walks out the door, leaving the apartment. Johnny enters in whatever he had near him when he woke up, which ended up being torn jeans and a sleeveless ‘Dead Kennedys’ t-shirt. Allen takes a bite of his granola bar.

“You’re an asshole.” says Allen.

“Why am I an asshole?” asks Johnny as he stretches and grabs a thing of pop-tarts from the freezer.

” ‘Make like a tree and be outside of my house’ “Says Allen, quoting what he heard Johnny tell the young woman moments earlier. Johnny chuckles.

“Ha, yeah. She knew I was kidding. There’s a camera here.” says Johnny.

“Yup, for the promo we were supposed to start recording. 20 minutes ago” says Allen.

“You seem grouchy. Why are you grouchy? Do you need to get laid? I can make that shit happen.” says Johnny, whipping out his cellphone to call Allen a hook-up.

“This is my last match with REBEL Pro.” says Allen. Johnny throws his phone out the window in surprise.

“WHAT!? Why? Are you flaking out on me?” asks Johnny, ready to smack his student around a bit.

“No man… because of that little Ladder match my contract isn’t with REBEL Pro…it’s with Simon Kalis. And given some recent events, this is going to have to be my last week on REBEL programming.” says Allen.

“Shit…alright. Hey man, it’s cool. You could probably work anywhere now. You could go work for PWA!” says Johnny. Allen quirks an eyebrow.

“Alright, bad example, but after this match… maybe you could….I could…” says Johnny, gripping at straws.

“That’s the thing man…after this match, I honestly have no idea what the hell is gonna happen to me.” says Allen.

“Hey man…you’ll figure something out. This is the shit we’re good at. Overcoming the odds and all of that stuff. Don’t worry about rent this month man. I’ve got it. You just focus on yo shit. Jay Mizzle has got this.”

“…Thanks, man.” says Allen. Johnny gives him a friendly slap on the shoulder and goes to where they were going to film the promo. Allen sighs and takes out his iPhone. He calls a number he’d been ignoring for a little bit and waits for them to pick up.

“So….Mexico, huh?”

—————————————————————————

We open on Allen Chaney and Johnny Maverick standing in the middle of the ring in ‘Dannys Dungeon’, a training facility owned by Johnnys father, the legendary Danny Daemon. Allen has something behind his back and Johnny has his signature weapons. A pair of chrome knucks linked together by a chain. Perfect for ground and pound and choking.

“So, here we are again. Only this time we have an X-factor.” says Johnny.

Allen waves happily, not pulling his other hand from behind his back.

“This X-factor has shown himself to be a force to be reckoned with in both REBEL Pro and Underground X. On several occassions showing he is more than capable of handling several opponents at a time. He is a monster, a beast, and one of the few men to ever win the AOWF World Title in their rookie year. This man has a chance to show the world that he is the rightful number one contender by way of much more than a trophy and he is going to take that opportunity like every other opportunity he has been handed and slam a fucking touchdown with it.” says Johnny.

“This is me, right?” asks Allen. Johnny just rolls his eyes.

“This man is Allen Chaney. The Comedian.” says Johnny.

“And my partner” says Allen, “Is a REBEL Pro legend. He’s a triple crown champion, The last ever Carolinas Champion and the first ever Aggression Champion. He is The Sadistic Sexy Symbol, The Filth and The Fury, The Smartass Submission Machine, The Guru of Ground and Pound, and an expert in military martial arts…for some reason that was never adequately explained to me. He is Johnny Maverick!” says Allen. Johnny accepts the adulation of the imaginary audience all around him.

“And OUR partner.” says Johnny.

“DAT ASS!” says Allen, Johnny quirks an eyebrow in his direction. “What? Simons dead or something, someone has to do it.” says Allen, Johnny kind of shrugs in agreement.

“Our partner is a reality-bending, high-flying, shiny-collecting, future hall of famer with control over an army of puppets and the night emissions of teenage boys. She is one half of ‘Kontroversy Kreates Kake’, she is Anna Mathews and SHE….isn’t here. It’s really hard to keep up with her, she isn’t in our dimension half of the time.” says Johnny.

“Anyway, our opponents are the Underground X DARLINGS; Deicide, Cesar Salazar, and Sean Robinson who is as bland in the ring as his name is. I’m going to enjoy watching him burn.” says Allen.

“Like, metaphorically?” asks Johnny. Allen shakes his head and pulls the gas can from behind his back.

“No like, I’m gonna set this motherfucker on fire when I get the chance. Maybe piss on him once the flames have died down. This fucking asshat is every motherfucker in high school who ever tried to keep me down and unlike high school he is in a situation where I can beat the fuck out of him and not end up arrested. When I step in that ring with him he is going to receive the figurative unlubed ass-fucking of his life. When it comes time for me to face him I am going rearrange his limbs until he looks like something from a Guillermo Del Toro movie, then light him the fuck on fire. That is a promise. Him and everyone else who treats me like a second class citizen because I’m different is on alert. Things are about to stop going well for you.” says Allen, his eye twitching a little. Johnnys eyes widen.

“Damn, dude.” says Johnny.

“What?” says Allen, regaining his composure.

“Nothing. I like the intensity. Go with it. I’m just going to be super pissed at you if I end up on fire. Anyway. Deicide and Cesar Salazar pulled out a win against Anna and I. Congratulations. Really. We were focused and determined but on that night you were better. At Aggression? I intend to be better than that. That might sound like I’m simplifying things but simplicity is what works for me. I’m looking forward to tangling with you two again. I’ve had my share of losses lately, so has Anna. It has given me a lot of perspective and honestly? This is all still really fun to me. I know my team can beat yours. We’ve got all the ingredients. An Angry Powerhouse, an Unpredictable High-Flyer, and a skilled Technician. It’s honestly just a matter of getting out there and beating you. I’m not being cocky, I’m being confident. I’ve got confidence in spades and it’s high time I got off of my ass and showed the world exactly why that is.” says Johnny. He and Allen exchange a fist pound that turns into a more complicated best friend handshake.

“Accept your loss with some degree of dignity, guys.” says Allen.

“Just lie back and think of England.” says Johnny.

“See you in the ring.”

Six Man Tag Team Match

Wrestling’s Undisputed versus The KKK and Allen Chaney

With Alan Stone in the ring, the main event of the evening was set to begin. On one side of the ring, stood a united force known as Wrestling’s Undisputed, a collection of individuals set out to dominate the wrestling world. Sean Robinson, the Rebel pro World Champion, Cesar Salazar and Deicide, the remaining members and holders of the Rebel Pro Tag Team Championship flanked either side. In the other corner stood former Rebel Pro World Champion, Anna Mathews, set to do battle along with her tag team partner, Johnny Maverick and his former protégé, Allen Chaney. Allen, the most inexperienced of the three is nevertheless the holding of the Number One Contender’s Trophy, an accolade that provides him a unique opportunity to gain a championship match whenever he so chooses. Enough background, let’s get to the punches!

That’s how most these matches start and this one is no exception. Anna was the first to make a move, dashing across the ring and going straight after Robinson. Sean guarded himself as Anna threw hands, getting quickly swarmed by the other members of the WU. Johnny and Allen were quick to her aid, Allen peeling off Deicide and Johnny going low on Cesar. Maverick and Salazar rolled out of the ring in a brawl, Mathews fought her way out of the corner, taking a few steps away to regain herself, Sean going in for the kill early. He grabs a hold of Anna, shoving her back into the far corner, leaving Chaney and Deicide on the other side of the ring, exchanging right hands. Allen is getting the upper hand with brawling, and it’s at this point where Deicide goes low and uses his explosive power and knowledge of leverage to get Allen up off his feet and dumps him quickly out of the ring!

Anna was propped up on the top turnbuckle by Robinson when the camera comes back to them, Sean climbing up to grab her. He hooks a front chancery on Mathews, looking for the big superplex, but Anna blocks it! Mathews connected with a head but, staggering the champ, but not knocking him off. Anna grabs Sean by the ear and pulls as hard as she can, Sean’s head following his ear, as well as his body right off the corner crotching himself on the nearby ropes! The crowd cheers as Anna slowly stands, keeping her balance and leaping off the corner with a modified Boomerfly kick! Her foot connects with Sean’s head, Anna grabbing the apron to slow her fall to the ground, Sean not so lucky as he crashes down inside the ring, holding his temple.

The camera pans to Maverick who is being rammed into the barricade by Salazar, the ruckus crowd getting into every move. Cesar grabs a cup of beer from one of them and tosses it in Johnny’s face, enraging the former Rebel World Champion. That’s right folks, I didn’t forget, there are two former World Champions on this team. Johnny fires an elbow at Salazar, backing him up as a second flies in, connecting with his jaw. Maverick doubles Cesar over with a boot to the midsection, hooking his arms behind his back and flipping him over, Salazar’s body colliding with the barricade! Oops, Johnny broke him.

On the other side of the ring, Deicide went out to meet Allen and continue the aggression. He threw some punches at Allen, who was trying to get back to his feet. Deicide connects with a knee lift to Allen, trying to pick him up for a slam, but Chaney sandbags him, connecting with an elbow to the side of the head. Chaney grabs Deicide quickly and throws him towards the announce table, Deicide hitting his ribs on the corner of the table. Allen approaches, looking to put his adversary through the table, but Deicide counters with a rake to the eyes. Ducking low, Deicide lifts Allen up quickly and falls backwards, planting Allen through the table with a flap jack! The table explodes on impact, garnering several swear words from Larry Gordon on commentary. Getting back up, Deicide looks over where he sees Anna now getting back into the ring to cover Sean after her kick. It gets to a one count before Deicide pulls her back out and connects with a stiff uppercut. He spots Johnny getting in the ring and slides in after him.

Deicide and Johnny met in the middle of the ring, throwing the right hands again, Deicide getting the early advantage of the exchange by blocking a punch and getting Johnny in a hammer lock. Maverick, being no slouch in the submission game knew he had to reverse the torque on his arm to get out, which he does flawlessly and counters with his own hammer lock, though he quickly transitions it into a cross face, using his new found leverage to connect with a stiff lariat, knocking Deicide to the mat. As Deicide is starting to get up, Maverick hits the ropes and comes back, connecting with a stiff shoetie to the face. Oh fuck, my face, is what Deicide would be saying if his entire head wasn’t feeling numb at the moment. Smelling blood, literally, Maverick waits for Deicide to start getting up before he hits the ropes again, coming back looking for a one handed bulldog to transition into his Failure to Launch, but the Failure to launch fails t start as Deicide counters with a sidewalk slam! Moving swiftly, Deicide lifts Johnny up into a crucifix position, flipping him down into a devastating DDT! The Law of Entropy connects and Johnny is out, but Deicide has but a few seconds to enjoy his success as he’s rabbed by the back of the head by the returning Allen Chaney, who scoops Deicide up and drops him straight on his head with a cradle piledriver! That, my friends, is the Punchline of this match, at least it would have been had it not been for that meddling Salazar, who is waiting for Allen. He wraps his arms around Chaney’s large frame and picks him up a few feet off the ground, dropping him straight to the mat with the Here it is Driver. It only garners a 2 count though as Anna breaks up the follow up pin. Anna’s had enough of Cesar’s shit and launches into a Big Ball of Violence, leaving Salazar crippled by the end of the punches, kicks and the occasional low blow, because why the fuck not. Salazar ends on the mat and Anna goes to the top rope again, leaping off, rotating in the air like some sort of rotating animal and lands hard across Salazar’s body, connecting with her Slash and Burn. She makes the cover, but at two it’s the World Champ who’s back for more. Sean lifts Mathews up to her feet, doubling her over quickly with a kick to the midsection. He takes a second to smack DAT ASS and hooks her arms up, lifting her in the air and dropping her straight down on her shoulders and neck! Sean makes the cover here, but it’s broken up by…wait, that’s everyone, isn’t it? Yeah, after his Tiger Bomb, Anna’s too beaten to kick out and Stone finds a three count.

DING DING DING

Jenny Jersey: The winners of this match! The team of Deicide, Cesar Salazar and Sean Robinson! WRESTLING’s UNDISPUTED!

Let That Motherfucker Burn

The REBELTron lights up and we pan the sold out crowd in The Aggression Arena, and it becomes readily apparent this crowd tonight is extremely drunk. And why not, with REBEL Pro offering free beer all night. The camera pauses over the REBELTron, flanked on either side by The Order of Chaos flag. “Fully Alive” by Flyleaf hits and for a moment, the crowd is unsure of who’s coming but that confusion is quickly replaced with a loud chorus of cheers.

Jenny Jersey: Introducing. She is the acting General Manager of REBEL Pro. MAYA KALIS!!!!!!

Maya steps out from behind the curtain, looking almost entirely different than what most of us have come to expect. She is dressed in an exquisite red flowing strapless dress, looking more the part of an actress heading to the Oscar’s than a wrestling GM.

Linzi Martin: And then, there was one.

Larry Gordon: You’d think they’d let me take control back, don’t you? Yet because there remains one Kalis, that job falls upon this little girls shoulders.

Linzi Martin: Give her a chance, Larry.

Larry Gordon: We’ll see how long she lasts.

Maya slaps the hands of fans as she passes by, seemingly forcing a smile but the stress is evident on her face from the bags under her eyes.

Larry Gordon: She is doomed.

Linzi Martin: Don’t talk like that. Her brother and father are hospitalized with terrible injuries, she’s now taking care of her young nephew and on top of it has inherited a worldwide company.

Larry Gordon: You are naïve, Linzi.

Maya enters the ring carefully, and waves at the fans with a smile as Jenny hands her the microphone.

Maya: Thank you.

The crowd is on their feet applauding, and as the camera pans we see plenty of smiles and toasts going on with foamy mugs of beer.

Maya: We are in a transitional period in not only REBEL Pro, but the AoWF as a whole. I know I’m probably not the most trusted or respected source to hear that from, but it is what it is. And when you spend a lot of time on the bench and watching the game up close and personal, you get a different perspective than most would. And so, yes. I have come REBEL Pro’s General Manager while my brother recovers from that insane match he had with our dad for control of REBEL Pro. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t already begun making moves from a hospital bed. As some of you are aware, Underground X has reopened in Mexico through the financial backing of the Kalis family.

There’s a mixed reaction for that news, what does that even mean?

Maya: So where do we go from here, ladies and gentlemen? It seems obvious to me tha-

“Indestructible” by Disturbed hits, the worldwide theme song of The Order of Chaos. Maya looks towards the entrance ramp and rolls her eyes, slouching forward.

Adrian Kalis: I told you to leave the arena, Maya.

A number of those faux Order of Chaos “soldiers” begin streaming down the entrance ramp, surrounding the ring. They have a lot of equipment with them. The crowd cheers, the crowd boos. Everyone’s too drunk to really know why they’re doing what they’re doing. Adrian, burned and scarred and all, appears over the REBELTron.

Adrian Kalis: You see. There is a transitional period, but it’s not what you think. Just as I made a deal with Cesar Salazar to help him acquire the ability to restart Underground X, so too have I made another deal. This one effecting the Alliance of Wrestling Federations as a whole.

Maya: Oh for fucks sake, Adrian. Did getting burned imprint dads flare for the dramatics? Just get to the point.

The goons begin pouring gasoline around the ring, while other goons take to the ropes and begin cutting them. They snap as they break apart, Maya looks around with a sudden realization.

Adrian Kalis: We had a mandate. People hate our existence, even though twice now we have saved them and this Alliance from men and women far worse than us. What that bought us was stagnation, decline and death. TGW sank, Victory had a fucking stroke. The PWA is barely holding on, and all throughout it all REBEL Pro has gone up and down like the stock exchange. It’s a principle that you could never understand Maya, because you became a turn cloak two years ago. This sport demands conflict. This sport demands blood, and when it isn’t being fed we all suffer.

Maya: So what? Burning the ring down for the hundredth time is going to galvanize people?

The crowd is getting anxious, and at ringside Larry Gordon and Linzi Martin listen intently on their headsets to someone… And within moments, the look of horror on their face is a dead giveaway as both remove their headsets and begin to walk away quietly up the entrance ramp.

Adrian Kalis: Two years ago, the PWA alone faced certain death. Until we saved it. Today, the remnants of the AoWF face the same certain death. We are too weakened to do anything about it. And knowing as I did, that taking out the old man would take everything I had, I made a deal with the only man I knew who is prepared to do what must be done.

Maya: Who? Cody Bogard?

Maya smirks, but no one else is laughing.

Adrian Kalis: The burning of this ring tonight isn’t to send a message. It isn’t to galvanize the men and women backstage to step their game up. It is the physical manifestation of what is happening here. Do you know what’s happening, Maya?

Maya: Uhhh… No?

Adrian Kalis: REBEL Pro is dead, and shall be absorbed by the Pioneer Wrestling Association.

Almost immediately, the entire Aggression Arena erupts into a chorus of boos not heard since Matt Stone last had air time on our show.

Maya: What in the fuck? So you mean to tell me, you made a fucking deal with-

Adrian Kalis: The Phoenix.

As if on cue, the goons throw zippo lighters at the ring and begin their retreat through the crowd. The ring bursts into flames and Maya leaps out of the ring quickly. In the crowd, the fans drunk off free beer all night don’t take kindly to this announcement and sporadic brawls begin erupting all across the arena.

Adrian Kalis: He will remake the AoWF in his image. He is the only hope any of you have.

Maya: God damn it Adrian!

Adrian Kalis: It’s their fault, sis. Only theirs. We gave them a chance. Now we give them the flames.

Maya begins high tailing it up the ramp, but two hooded figures stop her at the entrance ramp.

Adrian Kalis: I told you to leave. I am so sorry Maya.

The men grab her by the throat and lift her up in the air. As of now, the entire arena is in full on riot mode as fans smash beer bottles against each other and slug it out. Chairs fly, blood spills and people still find the time to grab the free beers.

Adrian Kalis: This isn’t a goodbye. Goodbyes are permenant. This is a see ya later. REBEL Pro is owned by The Order of Chaos. And as The Order never dies, nor shall REBEL Pro. We will be back. Stronger. One day. But for now, this is how it ends. I am sorry to all of you. Really, I am.

The hooded men throw Maya off the stage and she crashes down off the side, ten feet below through tables and sound equipment.

Adrian, from his hospital room stands up carefully. His left arm fully casted, he steps back. He purposefully is wearing only a pair of black sweat pants, his wound dressings removed for this moment to show everyone his burned stomach, chest and face.

Adrian Kalis: Through the flames we’re all reborn. With The Order burned, so too is REBEL Pro. We live together, and go down in the flames together. We offered you our Order, but we leave you with Chaos.

Adrian forces a smile as he stomps, and salutes.

Adrian Kalis: All Hail The Phoenix.

The image over the REBELTron goes static. The cameras pan the fighting crowd, screaming and terror all around the arena. The two hooded men walk away, as we pan over Maya in the wreckage they put her in. The cameras now give us an awe-inspiring look, from the announcers table. The ring before us, burning and crumbling with the REBELTron in the background static, the two Order of Chaos flags flanking its sides. The crowd in a complete riot, with police arriving on the scene finally and pouring in through all entrances to attempt to gain control of the situation. Finally, the center of the ring gives way and implodes in on itself from the fire. The static is all that’s left.

See you later.

To you from failing hands we throw the torch. Be yours to hold it high.

So this is it. I’m sorry first off for the delay of the show. I really didn’t want to post it, for reasons that should now be apparent to you all. REBEL Pro isn’t necessarily fading away, it continues in a way in PWA for now. Since most of you are already in PWA, then this shouldn’t be such a huge problem. Those who are REBEL Champions should expect to compete at PWA Genesis as well when whatever is precisely happening, finishes happening.

I really am sorry it came down to this. It’s been a hell of a ride, and I hope you’ve enjoyed me as your fedhead as much as I enjoyed being your fedhead. Life has a funny way of getting in the way of the plans you make for it. REBEL Pro will be back one day, whether under me again or someone else. For me however, the road ends. I wish you all the best of luck in whatever you decide to do. In PWA, or in UX as some of you have gone/returned to. In life as well.

REBEL Pro. Fuck Yeah.

Let’s Just Roll With It I Guess

We fade backstage, and much to our surprise we find Jeremy Gold sitting in the General Manager’s office with his name on the door as we pass it. Fuck happened?

Jeremy Gold: Oh jeez, how am I gonna pull this off?

Marvin Humperdink, our intrepid REBEL Pro reporter walks into the room with a microphone in hand.

Marvin: Jeremy! What’re you doing here?

Gold jumps up, wiping his brow nervously.

Jeremy Gold: You know what the hell I’m doing here. Good God man! This is the line of succession! I just didn’t honestly think it’d go down like this.

Marvin: Well, what are you doing about tonights show? Do you realize that both Jaice Wilds and Mike Majere did not even come to the show? And what about Alex Wilkie being found backstage brutally attacked before the show began? And Mark McNasty leaving with him to the hospital?

Gold sighs heavily.

Jeremy Gold: I don’t know man. I’m not used to having to be the brains of an operation.

Marvin: You’ve certainly never been the muscle, have you?

Jeremy Gold: Oh, God no! I’m usually the bait… Now… Now I don’t know what to do.

Gold plops back down on his chair, with tears swelling in his eyes as Marvin Humperdink decides to quietly back out of the office and close the door behind him.

School of Hard Knocks

Sendng to both in case Macca approves ad scoolwihit. Sorry or the lateness Harry, but I’ve been either batting the flu or omethng very cloely related toit.

Macca: “So apparently REBEL learnt two important lessons at Merry Time Massacre.”

Macca’s voice is able to cut through the volume of the thousands generic cialis of pumped REBEL fans in the audience. The audience turns their attention to the stage where The Toughest Bastards make their way through the stage curtain and out onto the ramp. Both men hold a mic in their hands and their faces are showing a serious look that seems out of place on these two men.

Macca: “The first being that if you don’t suck the right cock in this company you do not get booked on the biggest show of the year.”

The crowd let out a boo as Macca lowers his microphone and Bubba J lifts his.

Bubba J: “The second thing we learnt was that if management wont book us then we will fucking well book ourselves.”

And the crowd pops! Yes, eat out of my hand my pretties!

Bubba J: “What we did at Merry Time Massacre, despite being flat out fucking awesome, was a message, not only to management who apparently don’t know that booking one of your biggest draws on the biggest show of the year is a good thing, but to others in the roster out the back.”

Macca: “Except for Allen’s beat down. I just genuinely do not like that cunt.”

Bubba stares at Macca for a moment before…

Bubba J: “Yeah you should work that out man. It’s not natural to have that big a hard on of hate for someone for absolutely no reason.”

Macca: “Unfunny bitch!”

Luckily for the crowd Bubba J is going to try and bring this train wreck back on track.

Bubba J: “Wilds and Majere you guys just happened to be in a wrong place wrong time scenario. We where pissed off because, let’s face it, two cunts who really didn’t deserve a spot on the card got booked over us. That shit don’t fly. So you automatically became our first message. Our bad, take it up with management if you have a problem.”

Bubba then shifts a glance to his partner in crime.

Bubba J: “Allen’s beat down was a request from my buddy here, as was Norton’s. You really just used the PPV to vent some of your aggression didn’t you? Talk about two birds with one stone.”

OI OI! The shows named was mention so everyone in the crowd takes a drink.

Macca: “Yeah, I do rock like that. Anyway, our last attack of the night was set up on purpose to really get our message across. That attack was on the new Undisputed World Tag Team Champions, Cesar Salazar and his plus one. It’s ok if you don’t remember his partners name. Most people forgot about Marty Jannetty also.”

Haha! Welcome back Deicide, you fuck!

Macca: Cesar, Deicide, you have belts that we want. We didn’t even bother to wait to tell you that as you know from your experience at the PPV. So with that I’m going to say those magical words that is apparently all that needs to be said to get you a title shot in this company. Wrestling’s Undisputed, We’re coming for you niggas!

CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP

Bubba J speaks again rubbing at someting in his pocket.

“I don’t know much at all about these two less than ass clowns, but I already don’t like them and have all that I need”

He struggles for a moment, before pulling out a silver flask and taking a drag.

“We are going to beat their asses into the ground, dig them back up, bury their ass in less than the undercard, dig them up again, then piss on their delapidated corpses… because not of what we’ve done in the past.”

He looks at Macca.

“But because its fun as hell. Its not as fun as the new titty bar down the road, with the biggest knockers this side of Jenny Jersey.”

He winks at Jenny.

“Or that chick right there in the front row…”

He nudges Macca.

“Did you see the size of her tits? I mean they are huge, like let me drown in their loveliness type of shit.”

Macca slaps him, while smiling, and getting him back on track this time.

“Right… right…. Um… yeah, I don’t kno what your name is, don’t give a damn hat your name is, because the only moncure that is going to fit after our match…”

He checks his watch.

“Is Latest Victims of the Toughest Bastards. I’m pissed that the only remaining Rebel Pro Legend remaining… and I wasn’t booked. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my time at the titty bars..”

He smiles.

“Oh, I forgot, I wasn’t there until after all of the damn beat downs that we delivered. Nearly forgot…(points to his scarred head) all the chair shots ya know. But Edison, I think that is your name.”

He takes a second chug, Macca removes the flask, taking one himself.

“Is that nice guys, in this business and ost especially this federation finish dead last. But don’t worry, you won’t have far to fall, cause you are already there and as a matter of fact…, you can share the hotel room with Gold and the fake ass Inferno.”

He clears his throat.

“And for Loomis… son, I’m gonna kick your ass and make yo mama beg to me to stop.”

Bubba J lights up.

“Think we done?”

He looks at Macca, who looks at the ring, nodding again.

Macca: “Lets go kick some ass, then go to that place of entertainment you ere shameless mentioning.”

Bubba J nods, taking a drag.

Bubba J: “Toughest Bastards on the rise, other teams on the demise.”

He taps the ashes.

“And guys, I know you can hear the alarm clock, cause its time for your ass whoppin’ to commense.”

They begin to walk down to the ring, Bubba J dropping the mic and finishing his cigarette.

Tag Team Match

The Toughest Bastards versus The Uproars

A strong tag team match which saw The Toughest Bastards continue their path of carnage, this time against The Uproars who almost looked as if they hadn’t even shown up for the match tonight. Edison battled Macca, whilst Loomis battled Bubba J. Each of the four men took turns getting one up over the other until a Trailer Park Trash by Bubba J took out Edison for the 1, 2, 3 and Macca with the distraction prevents Loomis from stopping the cover.

Cheers that, cunts.

Winners: The Toughest Bastards in 9:28

A Talented Segment

We open on a shot of the REBEL PRO locker room. The fans in the arena bare witness to three of the hottest attractions in 2013!

Standing before you is a street clothed Justin Case. His newly attained REBEL PRO Aggression Title firmly at his grasp, upon The Chosen One’s right shoulder, with a mic in LL’s oposing hand. Next to Case is his suit wearing manager The Wiz. On his other side lays claim to his new valet, none other than the singing sensation Susan Boyle.

But this aint your mom’s favorite reality star. Case has changed her into his newst project, as she looks on with a black leather Jacket which has more zippers than Michael Jackson’s thriller coat. And boy can she thrill you now! Vulgar and pissy with more attitude than the Attitude adjuster.

Cockiness and confidence fills the talented air.

Justin Case speaks.

Justin Case: So you all must think yours truly is a weak minded coward. You all must assume that I paid off the powers that be in order to do battle in a non-title triple threat contest?

Hmmm?

Case cups his Aggression Title.

Justin Case: nope, not quiet. You see, the simple fact remains that neither McNasty nor Norton have actually earned the right to face me for my lovely title belt.

Boyle and Wiz let off a smooth sly smirk.

Justin Case: No, Boyle and Wiz is not the directions to a hot tub party, but getting to my talented point. You see, even that obese blood thirsty fool Allen Chaney can’t hang in the same ring as I. All of which comes down to this. Chaney is all talk, Norton is all walk and McNasty is just a fluke lucky boozer who has yet to defeat me in our short history.

Case pauses for effect.

Justin Case: in fact, it all comes down to this. Yours truly is the only man in our next match to have defeated both his future opponents. And that, that is why I will walk down that ramp, get in that very ring tonight and leave not just the current Aggression Champion, but the winner of our little triple threat teaser of a match. Why? Cause I got what it takes and then some.

“TCO” smiles.

Justin Case: I would give you all some but then you wouldn’t have room for dessert. And believe you me, you don’t want to be caught eating crow like my opponents soon will. And when its all said and done, no one is better than “The Chosen One”.

Justin Case U didn’t know, I rule this f*cking show.

The video feed turns to static and then…

Undisputed

Soon as we return from a brief word from REBEL’s sponsors, the camera shot opens on Linzi Martin and Larry Gordon.

Linzi Martin: “Many of you have likely noticed the absence of our World Heavyweight Champion and the Undisputed Tag Champions, Wrestling’s Undisputed. According to upper management, they’ve been given an extended holiday to preserve and celebrate their extreme victories throughout the past few months, let alone at Merry Time Massacre.”

Larry Gordon: “But next week in the Main Event, we will see all three members of Wrestling’s Undisputed face off with The KKK & Allen Chaney in a six man tag match! That’ll be worth the wait.”

Linzi Martin: “When’s the last time we’ve had a six man tag?”

Larry Gordon: “Can’t remember.”

Linzi Martin: “I’d hate to ref that match.”

Larry Gordon: “Oh, definitely. Those six have subtle beef right now but as speculation suggests, Allen and Robbo is already shaping to be a promising World title bout if it takes form. And with the KKK – particularly Anna Mathews- taking the bumps they have, right now they sort of need to charge out swinging to get back some cred.”

Mmmkay I

Backstage with Jenny Jersey, Jake Norton opens the shot returning viewers from commercial break with an adolescent-esque awkward, depressive face.

Jenny Jersey: “How were the holidays for you, Jakey?”

Through his shallow cheeks, his teeth clenching is noticeable. Also, his lazy eye somehow has more emphasis than usual.

Jenny Jersey: “Were they bad?”

After a sharp exhale,

Jake Norton: “I have no family, so I spent it alone. Unfortunately, at Merry Time Massacre, my only living father-figure spat and shat over whatever love clung. Then there’s an Australian faggot (who I’d once happily share bathwater and stuff duck toys with) partially responsible for my oddball family’s breakup. Why? Maybe he’s still upset over that lost. Who knows? It doesn’t matter. Their betrayal did the trick: broke my achy-breaky heart.”

Unsure how to respond, Jenny bites her bottom lip and looks to somewhere out of the camera’s view for apparent support.

Jake Norton: “Although, REBEL’s first card of the year is the best belated Christmas gift a lonesome nice1 could hope for. Another win over Justin Case isn’t a morale booster per se but with the addition of Mark McNasty, a dude who had my respect and was quite recommendable sometime last year; this is a good way to bounce back after Santa’s Grotto, all things considered.”

The visual of Norton’s face rising from the ‘reindeer’ pile of poop Bad Santa forced him into colorizes in Jenny’s head.

Jenny Jersey: “Ew.”

Obviously unaware of what Jersey’s comment is directed at, Norton scowls.

Jake Norton: “Excuse me?”

Thinking on her feet, Jersey blurts out:

Jenny Jersey: “Alex Wilkie walked by.”

His face now slant, Norton ultimately ignores and moves on.

Jake Norton: “We come into this match with Justin Case winning the Aggression title off Anna mostly through outside assistance from Wiz and Susan Boyle, and Fine Wine lost to Allen Chaney. On the surface, Justin Case looks like an incompetent weakling and Fine Wine got that inevitable intense breakup in the cards. Truths of these beasts are Justin is a self-parody whose been allowed success because the Kalis family have no cares whether someone wins a top-tier belt by means of interference and believe reckless officiating is of no consequence, and McNasty should stop forcing the funnies because we’ve already got Allen doing that shtick.”

Jenny Jersey: “McNasty didn’t lose to Allen, technically.”

A shrug goes with,

Jake Norton: “I’ve already addressed it on twitter, but as a reminder: Wilkie is pitiful. Still, McNasty is at fault for not – ugh. No, this is boring.”

Shaking his head, Norton snatches the microphone from Jenny Jersey.

Jake Norton: “This formula is done.”

Looking at the cameraman, Norton signals for him to follow with a bend of his index finger.

Jake Norton: “Really, it’d be simple for me to just assassinate all these ridiculous characters week by week, but that’s not what sells. Nobody is going to be bursting at the seams for me disillusioning them with cold facts of why Justin Case and McNasty either suck or lost big mojo.”

Pushing through a black curtain, Norton suddenly appears on the ramp leading to ringside! Fans are cheering.

Jake Norton: “My victory doesn’t depend on sharing what qualities I possess are more fruitful than theirs, aloud. My victory is already concrete.”

Now done walking up the steps and stepping through the ropes, Norton stands in-ring.

Jake Norton: “Why should I have to argue a mathematical equation? Do you people really find a statistical slap fight intriguing? Because that’s what Adrian or Simon or Maya or Larry Gordon, whoever fucking books this, booked. Justin Case, I’ve beaten him already. And I mentioned earlier once having respect for the bloodthirsty, psychopathic McNasty who truly represented what REBEL Pro is, but that ceased soon as Fine Wine started airing segments of them humorlessly training to Karate Kid’s overplayed hit.”

For some reason, Norton appears frustrated.

Jake Norton: “During the Holiday hiatus, I sat in a comfy leather chair beside a raging fire thinking how to make this whole promo thing more interesting. To tell the truth, I sort of do this every week, huh? Of course, sometimes I brainbustah Susan Boyle – “

Solid pop occurs.

Jake Norton: “wrestle ultra violently and cut funny promos, which is all that’s required, but.. I’ve linked a similarity between myself and others in the AOWF. Seriously, I bothered to sit down and watch what other people are saying and doing: Allen Chaney, Matt Stone, Emily Corlen (before PWA fired her ass for – to my understanding – being a terrible champion), Johnny Maverick, Anna Mathews, The Phoenix, Mark McNasty, Bubba J, the list fucking goes on and on. They all –or, rather, WE all either do or try to do the same shit and talk the same smack.”

A brief pause leaves Norton’s jaw slightly dropped in revelation.

Jake Norton: “All of them are guilty of trying to be cool, ‘smart’ and TRUTH. Yup. Like when Allen Chaney says, “I won the Number One Contender trophy! It’s time for a new World Champion!” I’m like, “what the fuck? What makes you think people need YOU as World Champ? We just got Sean Robinson, who excellently tiger driver 91’d Phoenix through a 17 foot high cell rooftop. And his whole reasoning was to remove the guy who clearly loathes REBEL Pro for its current lead-in-the-race position over crummy PWA. But hey, that’s what happens when you re-re-re-rehire Matt Stone, a dude who vacates titles if he doesn’t want to defend.”

Linzi Martin: “Oh dear. This is a shoot.”

Jake Norton: “Sean Robinson had a reason, a purpose. You, Allen? You don’t have shit. You need a belt because your career means shit, and you’re insecure because of that fact. But don’t trip, dude. Anna Mathews, Johnny Maverick, Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie – four guys off the top of my head are all in the same boat. During the build to Merry Time Massacre, in one way or another, those four douchebags phrased a simple thought however they liked but it all meant the same: we’re coming to this title match looking to win a belt/trophy because.. well, just because. Justin Case did the same thing, but, you see, he was pitted against the same argument, therefore it might as well been him wrestling a plastic bag. Too bad he didn’t suffocate.”

Sitting down crisscross, Norton mimics an overdone stance.

Jake Norton: “This, by all means, is a shoot, but see, unlike many of these wannabe cowboys who try riding in at high noon with pistols blazing, I don’t have a gun. I feel like the guy inside the bar who’s drinking some whiskey while the mindless gunfight happens outside. I’m the guy who’s thinking, “The problem isn’t if the town can withstand two of you idiots; it’s whether this town is worth its chops.”

Larry Gordon: “What the hell does he mean by that?”

A frown and seconds of silence follows Norton’s last wordy breath.

Jake Norton: “McNasty and Justin Case, they’re the two duelists. They’ll talk about wins and titles as they should, but the desire and intentions will feel adolescent. Me? I’m thinking bigger right now. The town is REBEL Pro, and I want the town to not become a parody of itself. I mean, where are we going? Is there any clear locker-room leader? In Underground X, we all knew Cesar Salazar was the big dog who everyone had a ton of respect for because he’s the one who paved the way for that company’s restart. In Victory Wrestling, Teresa Quaranta’s name is synonymous with it. And, according to Sean Robinson, guys like Rex Caliber and Lisa Seldon are the great ones of REBEL Pro. Yet, I don’t see it that way. I don’t feel that’s true. They’re just two people who held the World Heavyweight Championship. Sure, Lisa played a role in REBEL Pro stepping out of high school gyms, but that’s hardly an accomplishment to be respected. That’s more of a move done to simply be qualified for respect.”

Jake Norton: “I want something more. I’m finding me a http://viagracanadianpharmacy-norx.com/ cause – one that will shake the very foundation of REBEL Pro. I’m done coming out online canadian pharmacy here and telling people how to be a winner and champion. These assholes should know how to be if they want to be a contender. Me? I’m already a fucking contender. You hear me, Kalis? I’ve taken whomever you booked me against and beat the shit out of them, both verbally and physically. You want me to beat McNasty and Case? Fine. I’ll do it. You know I will. These fans know it, too. But, what will I have accomplished? Will I just be adding another tally mark to my already stacked win record? Am I just sitting here so that cunt Anna Mathews, who lost a tag title match and her own Aggression belt to fucking Justin Case, can get ANOTHER opportunity? Why, because she has an ass you want to tap? What the fuck.”

Getting to his feet, Norton looks out to the crowd.

Jake Norton: “You can hate me now.”

Tossing the microphone out of the ring carelessly, the fans respond mixed.

Larry Gordon: “Why are they booing?”

Linzi Martin: “Norton just took jabs at several of these fans’ favorites. Of course it’d be a mixed reaction.”

Non-Title Match

Jake Norton versus Justin Case

Jake Norton starts off the assault with a Russian Leg-sweep into the Guardrail during Justin Case’s entrance and the bell immediately dings as the two men battle outside the ring. Case gets handed The Wiz’s cane but Norton kicks it away and slides into the ring. Case follows him and as Norton goes for a pendulum elbow he misses and Case grabs hold of him and lays him out with the Benchmark! Case covers for a quick win but only gets a 1 count! Case goes up top as quick as he can with Norton still a bit dizzy from the previous assault and Justin Case dazzles the crowd with a shooting star press… Until Norton puts his knees up and Case bounces off him in complete pain. Norton covers! 1! KICK OUT! Norton lifts Case up and takes him down with a masterful wheelbarrow dragon suplex! Norton isn’t finished and attempts a double hammerlock piledriver but Case fights back, gets free and then counters with a fishermans suplex. Case on the offensive and immediately locks in his move, Tap or Snap! Norton is in writhing pain but refuses to quit, much to the disappointment of Case as Case wrenches the hold. But Norton manages to grab the bottom rope preventing any submission from counting. However as per REBEL Pro rules Case keeps the hold on anyways. Despite this Norton does not beg nor surrender and Case lets go, and turns around unimpressed with his opponent. Case pulls Norton into the center of the ring and lifts Norton up. He seems to be setting up for a belly-to-belly suplex but Norton slips free and finally hits the pendulum elbow! With Case reeling, Norton capitalizes and hits The Process of Illumination! He covers!

1!

2!!

3!!!

Norton slips out of the ring and makes his leave without ever looking back at his talented, yet defeated opponent.

Winner: Jake Norton in 12:41

One More Time

“So, you made your decision?” says Oliver Fitzsimmons, better known to our viewers as Spyke Gein as he sips at his bowl of tea.

“Sure did.” said Allen. They were in Cafe Gratitude in Kansas City. Super healthy hippy Vegan restaurant.

cialisonline-pharmacycanada.com

“And?” asks Spyke.

“And if you think beating Justin Case is why I came back to REBEL Pro then you certainly don’t know me very well.” says Allen. The waitress comes by and sets Allens Veggie tacos in front of him.

“I don’t know man. Don’t you think after what happened with the AOWF title that maybe you aren’t-”

“Aren’t ready?” says Allen, interrupting Spyke. There’s a moment of silence.

“It’s a fair question.” says Spyke.

“Maybe guys like Norton are okay with coming here just to pick a fight with whoever they perceive to be the weakest but that’s not how I roll. I played Simons little game and he had his fun, now it’s time to find the biggest dog in the kennel and bite it’s throat out.” says Allen. He looks around, realizing how many trendy Vegan hipsters are listening to his conversation. He takes a bite of his taco.

“So…Sean Robinson. When?”

“Next Pay-Per-View.”

“What is your plan?” asks Spyke, taking another casual sip of his tea.

“Get in his head. Beat him in a wrestling match. Set him on fire.” says Allen. Spyke chuckles a bit but stops when he realizes Allen isn’t chuckling. Allen just gives Spyke a somewhat terrifying smirk.

“…Shit, dude.”

“No more joking around.”

————————————————————-

“I am having a series of very good days.” says Allen, smiling as he holds his trophy. He is backstage, standing front of a REBEL Pro banner in his trademark lucky sleeveless flannel and a T-Shirt reading ‘HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?’ with a picture of Matthew Engel.

“Let’s see: I beat Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie and won a pretty sweet trophy, went on Twitter and made Sean Robinson seem like an idiot, got to meet my hero who may or may not exist, heard the new single by my favorite band, lost four more pounds, continued to have sweet ass mutton chops, watched the new Adventure Time, saw Django Unchained a fourth time, and decided when I’m gonna have my title match and who I’m going to face. So that’s all awesome. I’m having an awesome time. it’s pretty awesome to be me.” says Allen before giving us a big thumbs up.

“People still don’t seem to be taking me very seriously, but that’s fine. You know what? Maybe I’m not funny. I mean, ignoring that I perform in front of crowds of people who laugh at my jokes, maybe I’m just not funny. Can any of you tell me precisely what bearing me not being funny has on what happens when the bell rings? Anybody? No? Well damn. I’m an unfunny motherfucker who can win him some matches. I can live with that.” says Allen, he shrugs.

“I dunno, Anna is a little more creative than that. I bet she won’t mention me not being funny. HOPEFULLY she doesn’t make the same mistake Jake Norton did and call me out on being too cocky after winning an ‘easy match’ after recently having lost to JUSTIN. CASE.” says Allen, cupping his hands over his mouth to make the JUSTIN. CASE. super-echoey.

“Everyone seems to be cracking jokes about Anna and how her glory days are over and you know what? I’m not going to do that. I sincerely hope she can bounce back from this run of bad luck she has had that started when…” says Allen, interrupted by a jump cut to Allen pinning Anna Mathews to win the AOWF World Title.

“Right. That. Like I said, I just KNOW she is going to bounce back from this… Next week.” says Allen.

“But before that she is going to suffer one more loss, and she can be secure in the knowledge that it was to someone who…well…doesn’t hate her?” says Allen, gripping at straws for a way to soften the blow for Anna.

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing. I’m going to beat you Anna. I know that sucks, but I have a trophy to defend, a World Championship to win, and a one eyed black mans face to wildly wag my penis at in victory. I’m going to beat You, Sean Robinson, and anyone else who steps in line and for once it’s not going to be to prove anything to anyone. It’ll be becasue I’m a fucking Champion and that’s what fucking Champions do. I’m not gonna kiss ass, I’m not gonna stab anyone in the back but I’m certainly not going to play nice. I am going to go straight to the top of the mountain or die trying.” says Allen, looking very serious.

“Bring all your puppets, your kicks, your flips, and hell bring out Simon to try and screw me out of my trophy for his DAT ASS loyalty. The loss of respect I feel for you in that instant will make it so so much easier to leave you comatose and bleeding under a pile of torn felt and broken dreams of future ‘shinies’” says Allen. He just emphasized the word shinies, he didn’t use air quotes. He’s not an asshole.

“Like I said, Anna. I don’t dislike you. I’m actually a big fan. I know you’re gonna bounce back after I beat you. And after I do you’re going to join the legions of people who tell me I’m not funny because they think it gets under my skin. It used to, but I finally have been able to put into perspective the TRUTH behind the insecurities of the people who tell me that phrase. You see… everyone loves a good joke.” says Allen, pausing for emphasis.

“…They just get all pissy when the joke is on them. Every ‘You aren’t funny’ is just another way for all of you to feel better about yourselves because you just realized that you aren’t as good a wrestler as….well… someone like me.” Allen says. he smiles.

“As such, I will be accepting every exclamation of ‘You arent funny’ with a thank you. Sean Robinson? Thank you. Matt Stone? You’re too kind. Jake Norton? I love you, too.” says Allen, tossing in a wink for Norton. He would’ve winked for Sean Robinson but he wouldn’t want Paul Alba getting jealous.

“And if Anna wants to be all sore about the beating she’s about to receive? Thank you Anna. Thank you very much.” says Allen, he bows.

“See you in the ring, dollface.” He says before walking out of frame as the camera fades to black.

Real Shiney

Jeremy Gold is doing stuff. What kind of stuff, you ask? Well, who the hell knows. He could be looking through contracts. Or fucking that kangaroo of his. Or trying to figure out exactly how the hell not to get himself killed. But at either rate, he’s here because he’s supposed to be, dammit. Motherfucker’s very very busy and he has a lot of work to do since the Kalis’s’s’ killed themselves. Like, say, trying to make himself matter. The camera pans out to see a grinning Master of Time and Space standing right behind him which creates a lot of cheers everywhere. Her movement is slow and flowing as she reaches behind her back and pulls out an air horn. She brings a finger to her lips to signal silence from the crowd as the horn inches closer and closer to his ear. Oh, what a tense moment this is! Can’t you feel it?

EEEERRRRRNNNNT!

To the surprise of nobody, our new overlord jumps a good five feet and…doesn’t come down. You’d think somebody would’ve tipped him off on the glue trap on the roof. Aw, well.

“Hellooooooo Rebel Pro!”

With a surefire grin and laughter that can move mountains, Anna Mathews jumps into the spiny chair and spins around making herself the Tasmanian Fucking Devil of speed before stopping.

“Eye wuz informed by both Rebel Pro management an mi lawyers dat my behavour at Merry Time Massacre was just plane whorrible. Day tell mii I had know rite to a) destroy Rebel Pro property und b) completely kill hoff oar cripple the few Justin Case phans dat arr left. Hive alsew heard that the families are threatening tew sue unless I offer a pulic apology and compinsashun fer possible medical bills and/or burial type stuffs. The wons that hav survived claim that I attacked them because lol my dawd beats joo. Sew lemme respond inn kind.”

She takes a deeeeep breath.

“Furst of all, Justin Case fanz should’ve bean buried a long time ago. Prefurably alive. Secondlee, if ya honestly fink four won second I’m going to spend moolah I busted mi ass for fer years awn the braindead, u should be shot. And az for him beating me? That’s simply knot true. Trooth iz I thru the match because quite franklee, I felt sowwy fer him. Eye mean, this is the same guy hoo pinned Benji Dyce and ended up getting a Sherlock Holmes DVD for hiz troble. I’mma big phan of Robert Downey Jr. But even ya’ll hav too admit how pathetic that is. Besides…”

Her hands sweep behind her back. There’s sounds of rummaging and other type things obviously piped in from our soundguy, Bill Goldburg. Her tounge lulls out of her head while Baron von Gold’s has his own tounge a-flappin’. We can’t quite make out the words. PuppetLisa must’ve stuffed PuppetLiza in his mouth. Finally, Anna’s eyes widen and with one hand, she pulls out—no. It can’t be!

“…I gotz the REEL Aggression title rite here.”

Then for extra measure? Her other hand pulls out her tag title.

“If anniebuddy actually paid attention to my lil seggys, they would’ve noticed hive had it an my tag belt hidden in Ye Olde America for, lyke months nao. It’s wus under the care ov won Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism. He fought day were plates oar something. Sew the belts yoor holdin, Mizta Case and Rasslin’s Undisputed? One-hundred-persent fake. Counterfit. False. Faux. Fool’s gold. Bullshit. Nothing but smoke n mirrors an the like. The proof ish in the strap, my boyos. Mine’s genuine leather which arr what tru championship belts arr maid of. Yoors has simulated leather witch has all the legitimacy of faux fir. It looks the same an mai even feel the same to the uninitiated, but annie connisewer can tell the difference.”

Pet-pat the shinys. I know you want to.

“And Justin case nobuddy believes mee, I’m offering a billion dollars tu anywon who can prove me wrong. Bring awn your belt makers, ur record breakers, your scientists. Special horders doan’t upset mii.”

Then with a sn

“Az four wat I do nxt? Ish verry simple. Tunight, I go in dat verry ring against a man that has a whole lot to prove: one Allen Cheny. Mi purrsonally, I like Al. He’s got drive and watnawt. Hii even one a title for five minutes. No beef here. But I kno that az seriously as he’l take this match, aye’m not the one he’s gunna worry about. Al’s mynd is much too focused on going after Simon. I’ll go into the ring, giv him the fight of hiz life, steal his trophy, and with luck, complete mi collectun of Rebel Pro shinys. After that, only won thing will be left to do…”

The camera pans out so we can see those two living breathing specimens of madness in the room. The Queen of the Dodos conjures up a calling card and stuffs it in her broody buddies pocket. He blinks.

“Take da straight n narrow paf an yif joo start to slide, givva little whistle. Oar just yell fer Jiminy Cricket. Besides, cha mite kneed moar firepower when shit rolls down hill.”

In a blaze of glory, Anna teleports out leaving poor Jeremy to fall back into frame and make a really big crash.

Number One Contender’s Trophy Defense

Anna Mathews versus Allen Chaney©

Allen Chaney towered over Anna Mathews and used his size to his advantage but on the same coin, opposite side, Anna uses her speed. However Chaney starts the battle by bringing Anna down with a clothesline. From the canvas Anna goes for a kip up hurricanrana but Chaney is too large for her to bring down with her leg strength alone. Instead Anna gets hoisted up as Chaney holds onto her legs and powerbombs her into the corner turnbuckles like a rag doll. Chaney goes to continue the offensive but Anna smartly slides out of the ring to avoid his power and formulate a new strategy of attack. With lightning quickness Anna is back up on the ring apron and she springboards off and hits a spinning heel kick. Allen stumbles back but grabs her and whips her into the ropes. Yet Anna with a handspring back elbow finally takes Allen down to one knee. She quickly hops up onto the top rope and goes for another hurricanrana despite the kip up variation failing, yet with Allen on one knee she takes him down much to the cheering of the fans. She covers!

1!

KICK OUT!

Anna does not relent as she moves to lift Allen up by his head but Allen spikes his shoulders into her gut and takes her right into the corner turnbuckle. Chaney goes for a scoop slam but Anna gets out of it and goes for a mandala hinerei which Allen avoids. Now Anna Allen attempts a gutwrench powerbomb as he catches Anna but she slips out of his grasp and goes for another handspring back elbow but Allen, while watching the REBELTron in front of him which shows the action can see it coming and steps out of the way. Anna hits the canvas, and Allen bounces off the ropes and then goes to drop himself onto her but Anna instinctively rolls out of the way to avoid being struck. The crowd is on their feet and loving every moment of it. Anna is up now and she launches herself off the top rope with a moonsault as Allen gets to his feet and takes both of them down. Anna covers!

1!

2!!

KICK OUT!

Anna is up and goes back to the top rope to continue to use her speed and agility to her advantage, but as she comes flying off Allen catches her. He hits a double arm-DDT which shakes the ring HARD on impact. He feigns to go for a pin but shakes his head, instead getting to his feet and looking down at Anna before going for a standing leg drop. Anna shakes on impact, and Allen Chaney covers!

1!

2!!

KICK OUT!

Allen and Anna both with so many close calls that might be bothering them, but the crowd is eating up this exciting main event. Allen Chaney lifts Anna up but she headbutts him and then unleashes a Big Ball of Violence! No one has time to even see half the moves she pulls off but it has left Allen Chaney dazed in the ring on his feet. Anna moves for the ropes, Allen’s not so dazed anymore as she comes bouncing off and twisting with the BOOMERFLY KICK! Except Allen Chaney ducks it and grabs hold of her whole body, his power and strength coming into full measure and he suddenly hits THE PUNCHLINE!!! The crowd is on their feet as Allen covers near the ropes!

1!

2!!

3!!!

DING DING DING

Allen Chaney is handed the Number One Contender’s trophy and raises it high above his head like it’s the fucking Stanley Cup as the crowd cheers. Anna Mathews gets to her feet and the crowd cheers both of them as we fade at them staring at each other momentarily, knowing what’s coming next week…

QUICK RESULTS

The Toughest Bastards defeat The Uproars
Jake Norton defeats Justin Case
Allen Chaney defeats Anna Mathews to keep onto the NOC Trophy!

And now, to the INTERNETZ!

Larry Gordon: Welcome ladies and gentlemen, to a special viewing for all to see over the internet.

Linzi Martin: Yep! cialis generico italia It’s been a while since REBEL Pro just aired anything on the internet, hasn’t it?

Larry Gordon: It has, but this is a special circumstance as And we head back to Montreal and Merry Time Massacre. There is a reason this match was not aired during the Pay Per View. Nor at all during our broadcast of Monday Night Aggression. This is why the Kalis camp has been deathly silent since this event and why it was delayed from airing. The only reason I can imagine as to why no spoilers were leaked of what happened is because Canadians don’t have internet.

Linzi Martin: You all may’ve noticed the absence of the Kalis’s’s’ here tonight and this is why. We warn you, what you are about to see is possibly one of the most brutal matches this sport has ever seen.

Kalistic Death Match for the Presidency of REBEL Pro

Simon Kalis versus Adrian Kalis©

Jenny Jersey: The following match will be contested for the Presidency of REBEL Pro in a “Kalistic” Death Match!

“Machine Gun(16bit Remix)” by Noisia begins and the crowd jumps to their feet, as the dome above everyone in the Olympic Stadium begins to open.

Jenny Jersey: Introducing first, he is the current President of REBEL Pro Wrestling!

Two opposing lines of men and women in gray, white and black military camouflage along with white ski masks run out down the entrance ramp. The two on each side at the very front carry flags. One is The Order of Chaos flag, and the other banner has the REBEL Pro logo. They all turn to face each other and the entrance ramp itself, standing at attention.

Jenny Jersey: He stands in at 6 feet and 3 inches tall, weighing in tonight at 230 pounds… Hailing from Montreal, Quebec Canada! He is… “THE LAST SUPERSTAR”!!!

An arch of pyro engulfs the curtain as Simon Kalis steps through and the crowd goes absolutely nuts.

Jenny Jersey: SIMON KALIS!!!!!

Simon Kalis steps through and shoots cialis generic online his left arm in the air, closed fist while he waves an Ak-47 in his right hand. As he steps forward, each “soldier” in the line salutes him Order of Chaos style. Both of his hands have been gloved over a dozen times, dipped in glue and then rubbed into broken shards of glass. Simon Kalis circles the ring, yelling at the crowd to help pump them up.

Linzi Martin: The battle any fan of The Order of Chaos has been waiting for. It’s time to finally settle the transition of power and the mantle of leadership, Larry. A falls count anywhere death match of fuck.

Larry Gordon: Officially that isn’t on the table in this match.

Linzi Martin: Officially, no. But that’s really what it boils down to, a power struggle for who will be the true regime going forward.

Simon slides into the ring and raises his left fist again. Snow begins to sprinkle down over the ring and the fans but they’re all too pumped and energetic to feel the brisk cold December air. Simon begins firing shots from the AK-47 into the air, probably a good thing the dome top opened up then. Jenny Jersey stands aside, smiling, and trying not to fall into any of the pits set up around the ring either.

Linzi Martin: On one side of the ring, you’ve got a giant coffin of sand and scorpions. On another side of the ring, you’ve got a giant fish tank full of very hungry piranhas. And on the third side you’ve got a double reinforced titanium coffin of hot fiery coals. In the traditions of death matches of the past, all combined into one massive cluster fuck of doom.

Larry Gordon: Both men have both fists gloved and dipped in glue and glass shards, in the tradition of a Taipei death match. And finally, both men were allowed to bring any weapon of their choice. I sincerely hope Simon isn’t going to use an assault rifle.

Linzi Martin: There’s a reason the PWA forbid Simon from ever facing anyone in this match type. It is brutal, it is barbaric and it raises the chances of someone not only losing their career but their life Larry.

Larry Gordon: This is REBEL Pro.

Larry smiles as Simon has an extra clip ready and quickly reloads the AK-47 and turns to the entrance ramp, getting on one knee and aiming.

Jenny Jersey: Annnnd his opponent!

“Seven Devils” by Florence and The Machines hits, and the crowd remains on their feet in a rousing applause. The entrance ramp lights up in a circle of flames on the left side.

Jenny Jersey: He is the Alliance of Wrestling Federations Television Champion!

The soldiers also remain however, still standing at attention as Adrian Kalis rises in the circle of flames with Lacey Gloria in his arms.

Jenny Jersey: He stands six feet and one inch tall. Weighing in tonight at 215 pounds… He hails from Montreal! Quebec! Canada! ADRIAN! KALIS!

The crowd gives another thunderous applause as Adrian steps through the flames and shoots his arms out to the side, blowing smoke from his nostrils and mouth. Lacey wraps her arms around him, and they are a passionate kiss before she lifts his scarf over his face. We are yet unable to see if Adrian has a weapon he has brought, but his hands are both gloved and have been dipped in glue and covered in shards of glass Taipei death match style. Simon needn’t close his left eye to take a more precise aim, he merely breathes very carefully as his finger rubs the trigger. Adrian steps forward, turning to Lacey and telling her to return backstage. Adrian raises a salute towards Simon, and then yells out something the camera don’t pick up. However quickly, all those soldiers lined up along the entrance ramp all turn towards the ring and engulf pills of cialis Adrian around them. Simon lowers the assault rifle and smirks as Adrian uses them all as cover on his way to the ring. Adrian seemingly disappears, although him being in all black and them being in white makes it confusing. Fucking ninja.

Linzi Martin: Whose side are they all on?

Larry Gordon: Both.

The soldiers return to their station along the entrance ramp, however now Adrian Kalis is nowhere to be found. Simon stands up and steps forward, looking over the top rope. That’s when Adrian slides out from the opposite end of the ring, squeezing himself between the fiery coal coffins bottom foundation and out. He hands the AoWF television title off to ringside and slides in behind Simon, and that’s when everyone sees what weapon he has.

Linzi Martin: Motherfucker has a over the counter viagra sword on his back.

Adrian climbs up onto the coffin of fiery coals and begins walking over them before stepping onto the apron, without flinching a moment. The crowd cheers as he steps into the ring behind Simon, Adrian’s boots leaving melted footprints in his wake on the canvas. Simon senses him and quickly spins around, AK-47 swinging with him. Before Simon can pull the trigger, Adrian unsheathes the sword on his back and slices the AK-47 in half in one fatal swoop. Simon’s jaw drops, and the crowd goes fucking nuts.

Larry Gordon: Dear lord.

Adrian straightens his posture and throws his sword into the tank of piranha before stepping back and bowing respectfully. Simon chucks the trigger half of his AK-47 into the scorpion and sand coffin and steps back, smiling and bowing respectfully. The music ends and the snow is still falling around them.

DING DING DING

Immediately Adrian rushes forward and begins unleashing a furry of striking attacks with his feet, elbows and knees. Simon masterfully blocks and dodges the attack, both men engaging in a battle of Muay Thai kickboxing. Simon however quickly drops to one knee before rising back up with a huge uppercut that clocks Adrian square in the chin, ripping part of his face scarf from the glass us pharmacy for cialis shard laced fist of Simon. Adrian stumbles back and Simon runs forward and leaps up, bringing his knee towards Adrians face. Adrian dekes out of the way and goes for a reverse thrust kick blindly. Just as blindly Simon forces his upper body completely forward and dodges the attack. He then throws his own reverse thrust kick out backwards and Adrian instinctively leaps in the air spinning his whole body like a torpedo forward before flipping and landing on his feet. Simon steps back up and turns around to face him. Adrian enters a new fighting stance, taunting Simon on. The elder Kalis begins swaying back and forth, smirking.

Fans: WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD!

They clash and both men strike, cracking each other across the face with their glass shard embedded gloved hands. Flesh tears off leaving tiny gnashes on both their faces, with Adrian’s face scarf being torn along with his face. Simon with an angle kick in Muay Thai style, Adrian jumps back to dodge. Adrian with a thrust kick, Simon raises his knee to his chest and uses his thigh to block the attack. Simon with a thrust kick of his own, Adrian blocks the same way. Adrian with a European uppercut while Simon recoils sends some flesh and blood ripping out of Simon’s chin before Simon bounces off the ropes and comes back with a flying scissors kick that takes both men down to the canvas. Simon covers.

1!

KICK OUT!

Larry Gordon: It’s too early to even begin to attempt a pin.

Linzi Martin: But it was worth a shot, no? You never know when you may’ve just meted out a death blow.

Adrian rolls away and gets to his feet, looking over his shoulder at the tank of piranha behind him. He leans over the top rope and looks down into the tank, his blood falls into the water and sends the piranha into a frenzy. Simon is up and charges but quickly puts his feet down to stop the charge as Adrian gets ready to flip him up and over into the tank. Instead as Adrian looks up surprised, Simon hits a spinning heel kick and sends Adrian over the top rope and almost into the piranha tank if not for Adrian catching the middle ropes and pulling himself up. Adrian hangs off the middle ropes as Simon swings with his glass shard covered fists, forcing Adrian to dip down to avoid every attack but placing himself precariously close into the tank. Simon wrenches Adrians legs off the middle rope and it sends Adrian toppling into the piranha tank, immediately getting attacked and bitten with the crowd cheering on.

Linzi Martin: I hope he has a cup on.

Larry Gordon: Will that really protect his family jewels?

Linzi Martin: No clue.

Adrian splashes about, flailing and jumps out of the tank with some piranha still attached to him. He quickly rips them off him, tearing his flesh and rolling away on the thin mats just outside the ring. Simon climbs up to the top turnbuckle and immediately jumps off, driving an elbow deep into Adrian’s chest that sees Adrian convulse momentarily. Simon gets up and lifts his son up but Adrian with a European uppercut. Simons face rips from the glass shards and he stumbles back. Adrian grabs him by the head and smashes his face against the announcers table before whipping him into the corner post. “DING!” as Simon’s head smacks off of it and he falls flat on his back on the outside of the ring.

Linzi Martin: Adrian is bleeding from a bunch of little spots all over his body. I wonder if that hurts?

Larry Gordon: Why don’t you go take a dip into the tank of piranha and tell us how it feels Linzi?

Adrian lifts Simon up and then drops him back down with a quick elbow over the back of his fathers head.

Linzi Martin: No thanks.

Adrian lifts Simon up again, Simon with a quick punch into Adrian’s gut. Simon twists his fist around and pulls back. Adrian stumbles back, a piece of glass stuck in his gut as he winces and falls to his knees. The crowd are all on their feet in horror at the literally gut wrenching sight of it all. Simon grabs Adrian and throws him into the ring. But as Simon follows him in, Adrian trips Simon from his back on the canvas and quickly gets up onto him. Adrian locks Simon Kalis into a fucking camel clutch and with his hands covered in glass shards, the glass rips into Simon’s neck and chin at the same time. Simon’s one good eye opens wide in pain, blood trickling down over Adrian’s hands and onto the canvas so bad it begins pooling. Adrian wrenches the move, yelling out to the Last Superstar to submit.

Linzi Martin: Holy fucking shit.

Larry Gordon: …I never thought I could see a submission move pulled off so violently.

Adrian wrenches and wrenches, Simon groans and the referee keeps checking on Simon. Simon refuses to give up but the referee stands up and crosses his arms in an X and the bell rings.

DING DING DING

Immediately the crowd boos as the ref tries to get Adrian to let go of the hold. After a few moments Adrian does, and Simon goes limp on the canvas in a pool of his own blood. Adrian shoves the referee forward and demands answers. Simon shows no sign of movement.

Larry Gordon: I believe our official has just called the match. He had to stop it.

Linzi Martin: I guess but-

Fans begin throwing garbage into the ring and pushing and shoving each other. The bell dings some more, and Simon is finally crawling. Adrian kicks the referee in the gut and then quickly hits the MasaDriver on him for good measure. The crowd enjoys it as Adrian turns to Simon and begins speaking to him. Simon holds his neck, and the bleeding is bad as Adrian helps him to his feet. Simon waves backstage and then yells out at ringside to Jenny Jersey. Backing away from Adrian to lean against the ropes, Simon sighs heavily and wipes his neck. His chin and cheeks got the worst of the glass and not his neck, thankfully.

Jenny Jersey: This match will…

Simon yells out to her.

Jenny Jersey: This match MUST continue until there is a clear and defined winner!

The crowd cheers and…

DING DING DING

Immediately Simon rushes at Adrian but Adrian ducks and spins right behind Simon. He grabs Simon from behind and lifts him in a belly to back suplex, throwing Simon over the top rope and INTO THE SAND AND SCORPIONS! The coffin falls off its stand and crashes, spilling sand and scorpions about ringside. The scorpions, clearly agitated by this begin snapping at Simon repeatedly as Simon squirms and rolls around in a fit of blood and sand and snow from the open dome in the Olympic Stadium.

Linzi Martin: Jesus Christ. He should’ve just let it finish.

Larry Gordon: He would’ve been declared the loser, Linzi. Luckily those stingers are not poisonous.

Adrian slides out of the ring and reaches under it for a chair. Adrian begins smashing the chair over Simon’s face until more blood gushes from the Old General. Adrian chucks the chair aside and lifts one of the scorpions up and then lifts Simon’s tights up and shoves one into his groin. Simon screams as he rushes to rip that one off first. Adrian takes a moment to lift another scorpion up and rip off its large stinger and two pincers, holding it up for the camera to see before he devours it. The crowd cheers wildly.

Linzi Martin: My god that is disgusting.

Larry Gordon: I hope PETA doesn’t sue us.

Simon rolls away from the sand and Adrian watches him and wipes the blood off his own face. He stalks the elder Kalis until dropping on his head with a knee. Adrian grabs hold of the guard rail at ringside, using it as leverage as he begins stomping Simon into the sand. Adrian Kalis lifs Simon up and whips him forward into the steel steps. He slowly makes his way to Kalis and throws him onto the ring apron before climbing up himself, teetering over the fiery coals of the last tank. Adrian moves to kick Simon onto the bed of fiery coals but Simon instinctively grabs Adrian’s foot and trips him over, forcing Adrian to fall into them himself face first. Adrian yells out in pain and finally, we have a new referee coming down to the ring. Just in time as Simon quickly gets up onto Adrian’s back, placing his feet at the small of Adrian’s back and grabbing both of Adrian’s arms and then pulling back. Adrian can’t move, with his body being stretched above him and his body being burned and sizzled below him. Smoke starts to rise, the referee asking if Adrian wishes to submit. Simon pleads with him to quit but Adrian, his tears steaming off his face refuses. Simon thus continues his awkward surfboard stretch, avoiding putting any one foot on the coals himself. Simon lets go finally, perhaps in mercy.

Linzi Martin: I think I smell Adrian cooking.

Larry Gordon: This is disgusting.

Except not mercy as Simon grabs Adrian’s face and pushes it into the coals. Adrian however, with the rest of his body free, flails quickly and rolls off the bed of fiery coals taking Simon with him to the mats below. Adrian gasps for air while screaming, and the once loud and rowdy crowd has fallen silent as he squirms back and forth, shaking with his entire front portion of his body burned. His leather outfit has seen itself burned into his skin at places and his mouth and chin and neck are red and black as smoke rises from him. Simon sits up and looks over his son and then kneels next to him, lifting Adrian into his arms. Concern marks his face as he touches Adrian’s burns with his forearms since his hands are still covered in glass shards. He immediately pulls back, feeling the heat. Simon stands up and walks away, as the referee begins a ten count. Adrian Kalis’ eyes close and he is apparently unconscious.

1!

Simon grabs a microphone at ringside.

2!!

Simon Kalis: No. There will be no counting him out and down.

Simon spits, reaching into his boots for a single protected cigarette and his other boot for a lighter. He sparks it up and sits on the ring apron now over Adrian, looking down.

Simon Kalis: Get up, boy.

There is no movement from Adrian.

Simon Kalis: Fuck you, get up Adrian.

Simon takes a long drag off his cigarette, looking agitated as he notices blood now on the filter of it.

Simon Kalis: This is what you wanted. A war. A battle for my company. But this! THIS! This is great! This is how the leader of REBEL Pro should be decided. In blood. Because REBEL Pro is the federation for the strong. For the hunters. Not for the weak, not for the hunted. And so its President should be a reflection of that. And this is what we’ve come to see, isn’t it? I know some of you came here tonight to see more than just The Phoenix take on Sean Robinson and hopefully get killed in the process. You came here to see more than Anna Mathews dismantle Justin Case. Yes. You came here to see the Kalis family go to civil war.

The crowd cheers and Simon flicks some ash onto Adrian’s limp body.

Simon Kalis: Looks like I’m not the only one with a fucked up face now, am I kiddo?

Adrian twitches, but his eyes remain closed.

Simon Kalis: You’ve never been able to live up to your potential, and now it’s cost you your career. You’ll forever live in my fucking shadow.

Adrian rolls, and slowly gets to his feet. He begins ripping the leather burned into his skin, slowly and methodically while staring down Simon. Simon smiles, bloodied and all, smoking his cigarette calmly. Adrian goes as far until he is in nothing but half his tights.

Simon Kalis: So.

Simon drops his cigarette into the coals.

Simon Kalis: Let’s finish it.

Simon steps forward as Adrian backs away, raising his fists up. Adrian backs up onto the entrance ramp, surrounded by those Order of Chaos “soldiers”.

Simon Kalis: Finish him for me.

On one side, the soldiers take a step forward as Simon drops the microphone. Adrian looks them all over as they raise their fists outward, their elbows arched and their fists touching as if to signify they are ready. Adrian looks behind him and motions the line of men and women behind him. They step forward and do the same thing. Adrian motions Simon to come for him as the men and women on Simon’s side go for an attack. Adrian ducks, while the men and women on his side step forward in his defense and all hell breaks loose on the entrance ramp. The two sides clash and Adrian stands among them, pushing them aside as Simon moves forward towards him. The crowd is pounding the stadium with screams and cheers and beer is notably selling in the stands very fucking well. Adrian with a thrust kick to one of the men on Simons side sends that man over the entrance ramps side and a foot below. Simon makes his way up, and quickly elbow uppercuts one of the women on Adrian’s side as he approaches. Finally the two men meet in the middle of the chaos and begin sending Muay Thai style thrust kicks at each other. With each strike, the other blocks and then counters and it begins a cycle with Simon pushing up forward and Adrian falling back with every counter each man does. A group of four of the Order of Chaos’ nameless goons go flying off the side of the entrance ramp through some tables. Finally Simon rushes at Adrian and goes for a running knee but Adrian throws himself to the ramp and slides down under Simon Kalis, getting to his feet and then running and jumping onto Simons neck and hitting a hurricanrana right on the entrance ramp. Adrian looks over the edge of the stage, taking note of the sound and video equipment on the side on a bunch of tables as backups. Microphones, subwoofers and all kinds of other random equipment. He lifts Simon up and then locks his arms. The cameras flash.

Linzi Martin: JESUS!

ADRIAN HITS THE MASADRIVER OFF THE SIDE OF THE STAGE!!! The crowd is in complete pandemonium as both Kalis’ are down and out off the side of the stage and a cameraman rushes to film the destruction.

Larry Gordon: Adrian just put Simon through tables and sound equipment. But while Simon just plain isn’t moving, Adrian looks like he may’ve hurt his own back pulling off that stunt.

Adrian rolls away out of the wreckage and slowly and painstakingly pulls himself to his feet. Adrian finds a microphone and then slams himself hard against the side of the entrance ramp and stage out of fatigue, using it to leverage himself and keep balance. He hoists the microphone up and taps on it until a sound technician has it turned on.

Adrian Kalis: This… This isn’t what I wanted, old man.

Adrian reaches into his own boot now, pulling out a protected cigarette and a lighter from his other boot. He sparks the cigarette and then slumps down next to Simon, patting his father on the chest.

Adrian Kalis: This is what I was taught. That the strong will lead. The weak will perish. So I’ve given you a taste of your own medicine, haven’t I?

Adrian flicks ash into Simon’s empty left eye socket, but Simon remains motionless.

Adrian Kalis: The Order of Chaos you once said, has three members. Only three. Two veterans and a rookie under their tutelage. Yet you, your mind long deserted of any sense of normalcy whored that legacy to wage idiotic wars against everyone you could find. And maybe that was merely the evolution of it all, eh? Turning the group militaristic. To making it a mirror of the fucking Sith because you’re such a god damn nerd. A master and an apprentice, and what you taught me from day one was that in order to be the man you had to beat the man. And oh my folks, look and behold what a man we have before us.

Adrian pushes himself back to his feet, exhaling cigarette smoke as he looks down at Simon.

Adrian Kalis: A man who built a legend, yes. Who built a name out of being unbreakable. That nothing anyone had ever done to him could end his career and finish him. He ALWAYS came back!

Adrian throws an arm into the air and circles, staring at the crowd with glassy eyes and a bloody and burned face.

Adrian Kalis: Did you think this was only about REBEL Pro? I’ve carried you old man, for three years I fucking carried you because you wanted to prove you still couldn’t be brought down

even after the end of Death Row all those years ago. You always said it took one of us to bring another one down. And think about it old man… How many careers have you ended? How many lives have you destroyed? How many people have you betrayed? How much longer will you continue to ruin that legacy? You had your chance to walk away. And maybe you should never have come back. Now it’s time to finish this, and show the whole fucking world that the indestructible General is human after all.

Adrian drops his cigarette on Simons chest and stomps it out. He then makes his way gingerly around the ramp and back up it as Simon remains somewhat motionless but not for long. Adrian begins climbing the side of the REBELTron, but Simon Kalis is up. Simon wobbles as he stands up, crashing into the side of the ramp and then into the guard rail where some fans pat his back. He squints as he looks up, Adrian climbing. Simon slowly makes his way now up the entrance ramp and begins climbing right up after him.

Larry Gordon: Adrian had the match won. Why stop to taunt Simon?

Linzi Martin: This isn’t going to end well, Larry…

Adrian stands many dozens of feet above the entrance ramp on the REBELtron, standing back as Simon finally catches up to him and makes it up. The cameras zoom in as the men seem to exchange some words before grappling. They contend with keeping their balance as the power struggle ensues, both men aching and bleeding and fatigued. Simon out powers Adrian and cracks him over the head with his knee before grabbing him and suplexing him on top of the REBELTron. The tron shakes, the crowd is going nuts. Simon is up and lifts Adrian up. He tries to put Adrian into the same vertaebreaker he just suffered but Adrian squirms free. Adrian attempts his spinning kamikaze on Simon but before he can complete the drop Simon powers himself out of Adrian’s arms. Adrian goes to kick Simon in the gut but Simon jumps back, almost falling off the side of the Tron. Adrian rushes forward but Simon connects with that kick now and sets up Adrian into the Sentencing of the Damned.

Linzi Martin: Sweet Jesus don’t Simon! Don’t!

Larry Gordon: This is how he paralyzed a man almost ten years ago, Linzi. Ending his career. I don’t think he’ll do it to his own son.

Simon gingerly backs up and now stands over the edge of the Tron, Adrian on his back squirming trying to get free.

Larry Gordon: My God he is.

Simon drops back, the cameras flash! BUT ADRIAN SLIPS FREE AT THE LAST SECOND, GRABS ONTO THE SIDE OF THE TRON AS SIMON FALLS TWENTY FIVE FEET BACK DOWN AND RIGHT THROUGH MORE TABLES AT THE SIDE OF THE ENTRANCE RAMP!!!

Fans: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Larry Gordon: BAH GAWD LINZI! BAH GAWD! SIMON IS DEAD! SIMON KALIS IS DEAD!!!! HE HAS TO BE!!!

Linzi Martin: ….

AoWF INSTANT REPLAY: We see Simon Kalis http://cialisdosage-storeonline.com/ falling back, while Adrian slips free and manages to grab the side of the Tron just barely as Simon falls perilously to his doom.

Adrian looks down over his shoulder at Simon, then at where he is. Then again back at Simon. Adrian taps his right elbow against the Tron and then points to the crowd.

Linzi Martin: Sweet fuck no don’t kid.

ADRIAN KALIS THROWS HIMSELF OFF THE TRON, PUTTING OUT HIS ELBOW AND HE LANDS RIGHT ON SIMON!!!

Larry Gordon: OH MY GOD!

Larry Gordon holds his mouth as Linzi Martin pukes over the announcers table. Fans in the audience cry out, shrieking. Some even vomit themselves as Adrian lays over Simon Kalis, having landed awkwardly on that massive elbow drop with part of his forearm sticking out through his skin. He screams and wails in pain but uses his good arm to lift Simons leg up, his back over Simon’s chest. The referee drops for the count.

1!

2!!

3!!!

DING DING DING

Adrian wails and wails, the sounds sickening as he holds his arm up and screams. Simon Kalis is not moving and remains utterly obliterated in the mass carnage. EMTs immediately rush to both men, two stretches awaiting them. Even Linzi Martin is being attended to by an EMT as she pushes her chair back trying to regain her composure. Larry Gordon stands, headset off as he tries to survey the damage from where he is. “Seven Devils” hits.

Jenny Jersey: The winner of this match! And thus our President of REBEL Pro… Adrian Kalis!

As Simon is loaded on one stretcher, Adrian is carefully loaded on another himself while the snow continues to fall from the opened dome as we fade. The REBELTron has replaced the images of the destruction with only…

Fine Wine Presents…

The Rebel Tron turns black. In a fancy white text, the following appears.

“Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie Present: Road to Merry Time Massacre.”

“Part One: Highway To The Danger Zone”

Revvin’ up your engine
Listen to her howlin’ roar

We see a foot step onto a pedal.

Metal under tension
Beggin’ you to touch and go

A gloved hand stretches out it’s fingers before gripping a handlebar.

Highway to the danger zone
Ride into the danger zone

We see the mouth and chiseled chin of someone as the gloved hands tighten the strap on a helmet around the chin.

Headin’ into twilight
Spreadin’ out her wings tonight

Lastly, we see the man from behind. He rolls his shoulders as his leather jacket stretches across his back and shoulders. We see “Nasty” written at the top.

She got you jumpin’ off the track
And shovin’ into overdrive
Highway to the danger zone

We pan out to see Mark McNasty sitting on a little pink tricycle. The music comes to a complete stop.

McNasty: WILKIE!

Alex Wilkie saunters onto camera. He’s wearing black jogging pants, a crappy t-shirt with flannel jacket over it, and he’s holding a bucket of chicken to boot.

Wilkie: Yes Mark?

McNasty: What the hell man? We already went over this plan. You were supposed to get us some bad ass bikes, we do an 80′s montage of us training for this all-important match against Allen Chaney, and BOOM, he’s so intimidated he can’t think straight. Why the hell did you get a tricycle; and a damn pink one mind you?!?!

Wilkie takes a bite of chicken and talks as he smacks it around in his mouth.

Wilkie: Well Mark…you should be thanking me…That pretty little thing you’re sitting on cost me the rest of my Twinkie money. Oh, speaking of.

Wilkie reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a Twinkie before shoving it in his mouth. McNasty is simply face palming repeatedly as Wilkie eats.

McNasty: Alright, look. Maybe we can still salvage this. I got us each a cameraman,

McNasty points to the camera we have been seeing, and another guy behind Wilkie.

McNasty: Let’s get the best footage of us we can training for this match…mesh it together, and then reconvene later to come up with a strategy.

Wilkie: Alright. Sounds good.

Wilkie takes another bite of chicken.

Wilkie: I even know what song to use.

McNasty: Alright buddy. I’ll see you soon.

McNasty pulls some sunglasses out of his pocket and puts them on. He looks out to the street, before riding off on the tricycle… well, as best he can with his knees practically bumping into his face with every turn of the pedals. We switch cameras to the one behind Wilkie as McNasty’s camera man follows him. As Wilkie chews, he casually turns to the man behind him.

Wilkie: Alright man, I hope you’re ready for this. Cause it’s gonna get intense!

Wilkie is close to the man and pointing at him with a chicken leg. Without moving his head, Wilkie takes a huge bite of the chicken leg. He finally turns and walks off. The white font writes out,

“To Be Continued.”

The Comeback

We see Tony Edison and Erik Loomis sitting in the Williamsport High School gymnasium. Edison walks around and stares up at the banners, especially the one with his class on it, the 2004 Millionaires definitely were a force to be reckoned with. The high school basketball team is practicing in the background, and they seem to not even notice the two men across the gym from them.

Edison
It’s such a great feeling to be home. Home is where the heart is, after all, or so they say. They also said back in the day that I was too small to be a wrestler. But hey, I guess I got my point across now, didn’t I? Anyway, what brings me back here is that we are about a month in to high school basketball season, and I wanted to see how my boys were doing.

He looks around.

Edison
This gym though, it brings back quite a few old memories. Some memories best left forgotten, but also some memories that I’ll always remember. The same feeling ran through me when we returned to the Underground Arena, and I must admit that I’m surprised it hit me the way that it did. It hasn’t been all that long since the purchase, but you can just feel all the differences.

He sits on the bleachers next to Loomis, and the camera moves to the other side, so now the team practicing is behind the cameraman.

Edison
And now we travel to Quebec for the REBEL Pro Merrytime Massacre. Facing a team by the name of Might & Magic. I know nothing about these guys, but I know about Erik Loomis and myself.

Loomis looks into the camera.

Loomis
And what do we know about us? We know that we push shit to the limit, week after week. We fight our hearts out every time we go to that ring, and we are absolute warriors. We might not be the greatest in-ring performers, but we are good enough to get what we need.

Edison
And what we need now is to go out there and beat us some Magic ass. As far as being all “Pee Wee Herman” nice guy whatever Salazar talked about a few weeks back, things change. I still am a tough bastard, and I still am a great nice guy, but something had to give. I was taking my life pretty much nowhere, and I wasn’t letting my career end on a second tier level. So I’m going to do whatever I have to do, and beat whoever I have to beat. We will beat whoever we have to beat. This week it happens to be Might & Magic.

Edison and Loomis look at each other, then the camera.

Loomis
Guys, sorry about your luck.

Edison
See you in the ring.

Edison and Loomis go back to watching the practice, as the camera pans and cuts to black.

Tag Team Match

The Uproars versus Might & Magic

Edison clotheslines Dragon while Loomis deals with Moke Doshky. Loomis however gets body slammed by Moke. Moke with a leg drop onto Loomis while Edison suplexes The Dragon hard onto the canvas. Edison quickly up and heads for the ropes, flying off the top rope with a missile dropkick on Moke Doshky before Moke can continue his brutal assault on Erik Loomis. Edison with a springboard moonsault lands hard on Moke and covers, but he only gets a 1 count.

The Dragon hits a fishermans suplex on Edison as Edison gets to his feet and covers, but only gets a 1 count himself. Loomis from behind dropkicks Dragon in the back of his head, giving Edison a chance to recover and manage a springboard forearm smash on Moke Doshky. But Moke isn’t too phased and he charges at both Loomis and Edison, knocking the Uproars down with his shoulders. The Uproars are back on their feet though but here comes The Dragon off the top rope, landing a beautifully executed hurricanrana on Edison. Edison rolls out of the ring momentarily to recover. Loomis spears Doshky into the ropes and Edison from outside the ring grabs him by the feet and sweeps the big man off his feet. Dragon goes up behind Loomis however and a full nelson suplex takes Loomis down. But Edison grabs a lead pipe from under the ring and slides in.

Edison swings at Dragon as Dragon gets up. He takes him down and drops the pipe, heads up top, END GAME! Edison covers as Loomis jumps over the top rope to keep Moke out of the ring. 1! 2! 3!!! The Uproars are victorious!

Peanut Butter and Nachos

The scene opens up on the REBEL Pro locker room, Jaice Wilds taking a moment after his comeback match. He throws his ring attire into his bag, grinning as he takes in the air. He turns, noticing the camera.

Jaice Wilds: I gotta give it to Bobby. Guy has heart, maybe the biggest in the business. Win or lose- though, mostly lose- he brings 100% to the table every time. Bobby, I just want to say thanks for the match, it was fun. But now I set my sights on another opponent.

Jaice takes a moment, reaching into his locker and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He reads it over quickly, then throws it in his pocket.

Jaice Wilds: Simon has given me a chance to prove myself again at Merry Time Massacre. And to do so, he’s placed me in a match against a new face. Mike Majere. I assume he’s one of those UX crossover guys, but I could be wrong. In any case, I haven’t a whole lot of subject matter on the guy, so the best I can do is say welcome.

Welcome, Mike, to the biggest match in your REBEL career. Welcome to Merry Time Massacre, where blood is spilled, sweat drops like rain and careers are altered forever. Welcome to the induction ceremony where you will find yourself baptized in a pool of your own blood, sacrificed to the Wrestling Gods for the entertainment of the masses. Welcome to the day of atonement, when you and your ilk will find yourselves standing in misery and wonder at the full power of this company. Welcome to the greatest challenge of your life, as you have been placed at the precipice of destruction. The cards have been dealt, and you have the chance- nay, the opportunity- to stare into the face of death.

Jaice takes a moment, breathing in. He grins, nodding.

Jaice Wilds: My name is Jaice Wilds. And you’ll come to find that I am the God of Annihilation in REBEL Pro. But that… well, that’s for another day, another time to find out. For now, take your moment in the sun as your last days pass by, allowing you rest and comfort. I’ll see you at Massacre.

Jaice laughs as he grabs his bag, heading for the door. The camera follows him until the door closes behind, leaving us with the view of… well, the camera in the mirror. Because apparently, that’s how we roll. Or something.

Jolly Time Singles Match

Jaice Wilds versus Mike Majere

Hey guys, its Linzi Martin. This match is from my perspective. Not Larry Gordon, though. Nobody really cares about his thoughts because he doesn’t really add much to a match unless it’s one Bubba J is in, because Gordon likes shitting on him and vice-versa. Anyway, our opening bout is one of those dark horse sorts that feels throwaway if you’re a fan who believes only ‘important’ matches are contenderships or for ‘da big 1’ so to speak, but I tend to think every match counts for something; may it be track record, momentum, presence, what have you.

Out first is Jaice Wilds, who returned a week prior to this show against Bobby Lee, and they had a fifteen minute dance, but Wilds eventually overcame the predictable Bobby Lee. Similar to Jaice, Mike Majere randomly showed up to participate in a spontaneous threeway match with C-Luke and Jeremy Gold last week, as well. Unlike Jaice, it took Majere a mere three minutes to wipe out his two opponents. Impressive, wouldn’t you agree?

Mike Majere isn’t a stranger for some fans that followed Underground X, where he was featured mostly as the manager of former Uncensored Champion John Johnson, but soon after Johnson quietly left the promotion, Majere came out of semi-retirement to have a small feud with Leroy, UX’s sole cameraman, to defend the honor of a girl named Vanessa (UX’s sole ring announcer / backstage interviewer) and that about sums up what Majere has done as of late. However, it’s enough to get a good reaction from tonight’s crowd. When Jaice comes out, his reaction is louder and sweeter, unsurprisingly, given his previous run in the AOWF.

The two immediately tie up at the sound of the bell. Back and forth the two wristlock and arm drag, whip each other to the ropes, leapfrog over and roll beneath one another, but ultimately, Majere catches a flying-crossbody Wilds and slams him across a bent knee! Not bothering to lateral press, Majere drives elbows into Wilds stomach! After the first two boney hits to his gut, Jaice throws three right punches, but not the first nor second or third could cease Majere’s flow. A fourth swing, however, smashed into Majere’s head so well, Mike dropped onto his side and his head bounced off the canvas!

Apparently unconscious from that last punch, Mike laid still for Jaice to appropriately ascend a nearby turnbuckle and take flight for one helluva corkscrew senton!! John Chellios promptly counts the one-two-three when Jaice hooks the leg, authorizing Jaice Wilds winner by pinfall!

WHAT THE HELL??? While Jaice was celebrating on the turnbuckle, he’s pulled down off of it and turned around to take a Stunner!! Bubba J hit the stunner (trailer park trash) on Jaice Wilds!! Mike Majere was being assisted to the back by Chellios until Macca shoved Chellios away and gave Majere the Stunner, too! The fans are mostly unsure of what’s happening, and don’t know whether to jeer or cheer for this, but there are some who chant their names anyway. The ‘Toughest Bastards’ flip the two laid out men middle fingers before hopping the guardrail and slapping the hands of fans as they pass by. Hmmm, we need some answers.

Part Two

The Rebel Tron again turns black. Just as before, the fancy white text returns.

“Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie Present: Road to Merry Time Massacre.”

“Part Two: Training Montage”

We open on a mountain side road. We see a car or two pass, but finally in the distance we see someone riding towards us.

Try to be best
‘Cause you’re only a man
And a man’s gotta learn to take it

The man is now close enough for us to see him. It’s Mark McNasty…and for some reason he is still on the pink tricycle. He rides past the camera.

Try to believe,

We switch to Alex Wilkie. He is sitting at a table with a bunch of hot dogs in front of him.

Though the going gets rough

We see a sped up video of Wilkie shoving in food left and right.

That you gotta hang tough to make it

We come back to regular time to see Wilkie sweating as he looks at a hot dog in hand. He gets a determined look on his face and shoves the last hot dog into his mouth.

History repeats itself
Try and you’ll succeed

We see McNasty doing chin ups on a pull up bar.

Never doubt that you’re the one
And you can have your dreams!

We quick pan to McNasty at a starting line on a racing track. Former McNasty manager Joey Spumoni is standing next to the line. He reaches into his leather jacket, produces a large hand gun, and fires into the air.

You’re the best!
Around!
Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down

Other people on the track drop to the ground and cover their heads as McNasty goes zooming down the track. Spumoni meanwhile hides the gun in his jacket and walks off rather quickly, while whistling.

You’re the Best!
Around!

Back to Wilkie. He is running on a treadmill in a jogging suit. But after just a few seconds, he pulls a straw closer to him and the camera zooms out to show a Big Gulp slushie sitting in the drink holder on the treadmill.

Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down
You’re the Best!
Around!

We finish with a verticle split screen. On one side, McNasty raises his arms as he reaches the end of the track, breaking yellow tape. On the other, Wilkie looks to be stressing his mouth to suck down the very last drops of the slushie. The music crescendos on both men standing with arms raised. The scene fades. The white font writes out,

“To Be Continued.”

Santa’s Grotto Grudge Match

Jake Norton versus “Bad Man” Reece Jackson

Guess whose perspective matters? Me. Yeah, that’s right! Linzi Martin here again, and our next match plays big on the Christmas theme.

Jake Norton is hesitantly walking with referee Tommy Idol in tow toward a large door with a wreath and red & green bow slapped on top of it.

Jake Norton: “All I have to do is walk in that room and come out, and I’ll have won?”

Tommy Idol: “Yes. This is basically a boiler room brawl but themed Christmas.”

Grabbing the door handle, Norton turns it and opens for a huge wave of snowflakes to burst through along with harsh, cold air brushing against his and Idol’s faces!

Jake Norton: “What the hell?? I can’t see a thing!”

Neither can the cameraman or us viewers at ringside and home due to the seemingly endless stampede of snowflakes!

Jake Norton: “I’m going in!”

Norton carefully walks through the storm of what is pink viagra snow, and our brave cameraman follows behind. When the door is shut, this match is officially underway.

Bad Man: “Welcome, Jakey, to the Bad Santa’s domain!”

Bad Man’s voice booms all godlike.

Jake Norton: “Show yourself, bad man!”

The storm abruptly ends but the difficulty in seeing does not, thanks to a sudden surge of does cialis do light! Light bulbs colored red and green brightly shine throughout the room.

Bad Santa: “Bad Santa will fill your stocking with Betty White’s shit!”

Out of nowhere, Bad Santa bum rushes Norton and tackles him into a stack of presents! All forty large boxes tumble on top of them. We hear groaning and shuffling for a few seconds, and then Bad Santa emerges with Norton’s head! Oh, it’s still attached to his body. Thank god. Next, Bad Santa drags Norton over to a ‘reindeer’ pen. No, they’re not actually reindeer but cardboard cutouts. The pile of shit Bad Santa just shoved Norton headfirst into on the other hand may be real! Gross.

Coughing violently to confirm our suspicion, Norton tries to push himself up off the wooden gate Bad Santa has him pressed against, but Bad Santa’s fury of forearms force Norton to stay bent. Grabbing a large candy cane, Bad Santa breaks it over Norton’s back!

Bad Santa: “You make Bad Man do this, Jakey! It didn’t have to be this way. If only you kept to the Bad Way and not this bullshit niceness.”

Taking a shit-covered Norton by the hair, Bad Man leads them both toward a little house that has a giant ‘Santa’s Workshop’ sign above it. We can’t tell what’s inside the house; even though there are windows and the lights are on. Bad Santa goes for an Irish whip but Norton reverses! Bad Santa goes through the window, headfirst! Glass shatters and Bad Santa is cursing loudly in pain!

Jake Norton: “This is exactly why I am a nice one now! I can’t deal with this bad shit anymore. I don’t want to rape Bruce in the showers, Baddy. I don’t want to stab Timmy Thompson in the eye with a fork again. And I definitely don’t want to take another fucking bubble bath with Macca, that smelly aussie cunt!”

Bad Santa: “Fine! Just go, then! Bad Santa doesn’t need you.. Bad Santa doesn’t need anyone to care.. Bad Santa been alone for most of his life! Because only Bad Santa can handle and do bad things.”

Bad Santa drops to the floor, bleeding profusely from his sliced open forehead.

Bad Santa: “Bad Santa loves you, Jakey. You’ll always be Bad Santa’s son.. Bad Santa just doesn’t know how to express himself..”

Tears and a muffled cry spills from Bad Santa. This would be a heart wrenching moment if not for this ridiculous setup.

Jake Norton: “I love you too, Bad Man.”

Norton drops to his knees to hold his adoptive father. And the awkward hug goes for a full minute. Fans are already chanting “boring”. Christ!

Jake Norton: “Come on, Baddy. Let’s stop this unnecessary fighting. We can walk out the door, together!”

And so, Norton and Bad Santa limp their way toward the door and open it, and then pass through it. But then STUNNER! STUNNER! STUNNER! MACCA HIT JAKE NORTON WITH THE STUNNER!

Macca: “Merry Christmas, Baddy!”

Bad Santa and Macca embrace, over Norton’s laid out body.

Bad Santa: “Macca, you’re Bad Man’s favorite son.”

Bad Santa then spits on Jake Norton!

Macca: “I knew you’d like your gift. Anyway, Baddy, Bubba and I are running from security. Care to join us?”

Bad Santa: “Oh, Bad Man would love to, but Bad Man has to go find Cesar Salazar’s door and shit on it again for old time’s sake.”

Macca: “Cheers!”

Macca kisses Bad Santa on the cheek, and then is off like the wind down a hallway off-camera.

Tommy Idol: “You do know that this match ended in a draw, right?”

Bad Santa looks at Tommy Idol for a few seconds in silence.

Bad Santa: “TOMMY IDOL!” CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP “TOMMY IDOL!”

Bad Santa continues chanting Tommy’s name loudly at him as Idol stares at Bad Santa very much confused.

???

Earlier in the week, Allen wanders down the hallways of the REBEL Pro offices with a huge duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He heads to the door of a very big and important looking office with a sign on it that reads ‘VACATION’. Allen points to the camera and motions for them to keep a lookout. The cameraman turns and has a look around and something unfortunate happens to the door offscreen before the cameraman turns back to look at it and hey! It’s open! Movie magic! Allen steps in and behind the desk, setting the bag down before he begins addressing the camera, wearing his trademark sleeveless flannel and bloody smiley ‘Comedian’ shirt.

“You know I thought a lot about what happened on the last Aggression, so I sat down and I cooled off before I wrote out a reasoned and logical series of complaints about what Simon Kalis did to me last week. I just showed up in his office at REBEL headquarters and he appears to be busy, so I figure I’ll just leave it on his desk.” says Allen. He then places the three sheets of stapled pieces of paper on the desk before putting on a pair of work gloves.

“And I figured after that I might dump a bag of manure on his desk.” says Allen, who does in fact pick up a bag of manure and dump it all over Simons desk.

“And to finish that off, I figured I’d dump some lighter fluid on top of the poop and throw a lit match on top of it.” he says before he in fact squirts lighter fluid on top of the pile of poop before lighting a match on casually dropping it on the pile. It goes up in flames and Allen picks up his bag and casually strolls of, the cameraman following after him as he heads to the break room and pours himself a cup of coffee. He turns to the camera.

“Hi Simon. How’s it going? I bet you are watching this with a heavy amount of interest now and that was part of my goal aside from making us even for the little Screwjob you pulled on me. A part of me just wants to ignore it and crack jokes and sit here with a smug look on my face, maybe do a funny bit about…I dunno… talking about how your eyehole is probably a tighter fuck than your daughters twat buuuuut there’s a bigger part of me that would like to impart the following to you.” says Allen, his eye twitches and the coffee mug in his hand shatters under the force of his grip.

“If you EVER try and fuck me again, I will create a path of destruction that will leave this company and everything you ever loved exactly as I left your desk; A Fuck you flaming pile of shit. I fucking PROMISE you, Simon. If I see you getting involved in my match, I’m gonna make every little bit of the terrible shit that has happened to you…The Crucifixion, the Confederate Flag trip… I’m going to make those look like the opening tutorial level of a video game. I fucking DARE you to take me there, Simon because for once I am NOT joking. Take every conception of what you think I am capable of and shove it up your unlubricated turd-cutter. I want you to sit back, have a tall glass of egg nog and watch as I win the Number One Contenders trophy before I cash it in at the next big show and beat the fuck out of someone named ‘Robinson’. Doesn’t matter which one.”

Allens eye twitches once more before he takes a deep breath, calmed down by the sprinklers that go off. We hear a fire alarm in the distance as Allen grabs a non-broken cup and pours himself more coffee, seemingly not caring about all the chaos that is unfolding around him.

“As far as Fine Wine goes, I almost had you fuckers beat before Simon got involved and I have very recently easilly beaten more than one person. I know you two have more experience than he does, but I suggest you use both bits of that information to comfort yourself after I’ve beaten you. God himself could show up in that ring to tell me it’s not my time to win the Trophy and I’d give him the finger and go back to piledriving the two of you over and over until the audience and I are never subjected a promo consisting mainly of the only fatter fuck than me in this company scarfing Twinkies down his gullet as Mark McNasty desperately and unnaturally tries to play straightman to all of the idiocy EVER AGAIN. You are about to be in the ring with a man who has everything to gain and nothing to lose fellas. But of course you don’t care because you are both as up your own asses figuratively as much as you probably are up each others literally because as a rule Wrestlers who age like ‘Fine Wine’ care about nothing but keeping the spotlight on themselves as long as they can… it’s my job once that bell rings to make you and everyone else watching care and take notice. Allen Chaney is NOT a joke.”

Allen has a sip of his waterlogged coffee before stepping out of the room. We fade to black and a bit of music begins.

(To the tune of ‘Up On The Housetop’)
“REBEL needs a new champ, That is clear.
Don’t fret, Allen Chaney’s here.
Simons desk has gone up in smoke.
‘Fine Wine’ is a big unfunny joke.
Ho Ho Ho, I’m not gonna go.
No no no, cause P-Dub still blows.
Up on the the housetop, Click click click.
Mind your own business you bald black dick.”

Part Three

Once again, the Rebel Tron goes black, and the white writing spells out,

“Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie Present: Road to Merry Time Massacre.”

“Part Three: Strategy is the Key”

We find Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie sitting backstage at a table talking; both in their ring gear.

McNasty: Wilkie, I have to admit, I haven’t felt this good in a while.

Wilkie: That’s great Mark. I haven’t felt this full in a while.

McNasty laughs.

McNasty: I think I lost fifteen pounds.

Wilkie burps.

Wilkie: I think I put on thirty.

McNasty: Fantastic! I had a strategy I wanted to discuss with you. So,

McNasty leans in.

McNasty: I hit Chaney with a hard move. Then, when he’s on his back, you sit on him. He’ll never be able to get up!

Wilkie begins laughing.

Wilkie: Alright, I get it. I put on weight. Nice joke.

McNasty smirks.

McNasty: I thought so. ‘Scuse me,

McNasty turns to the side and lowers his head below the table.

McNasty: Damn. I was really hoping he’d go for it.

Wilkie: What was that Mark?

McNasty pops back up.

McNasty: I said I figured you’d go for some IHop after the match.

Wilkie: Hellz yeah. But um, don’t we need to like worry about Chaney first?

McNasty: Alex, while we’ve both been doing this too long to “not worry”…we’ve won tag titles. We’re fighting one guy who hit the highest peak in his life he ever could by winning the AOWF title, before walking away from the company when Rob Robinson took his belt and ran with it. If he wasn’t willing to stand and fight for that, fight for the most prestigious belt Rebel, PWA, and TGW ever saw…he doesn’t have the heart for this. It’s a game to him. He’s here for a quick thrill. You and me, we’ve shown we can do this. We’ve shown we can overcome loss. But we’ve also shown we aren’t a pair of flash in the pan jobbers.

Wilkie: Yeah,

McNasty: We showed we were memorable; meant for the record books. Who else but us could win Tag Team of the year after not being seen for nine months? No one!

Wilkie stands up.

Wilkie: Yeah!

McNasty: Who else could come back after FOUR YEARS and win a pair of tag titles in their first match back together? Not anyone in these federations right now, I’ll tell you that.

Wilkie: YEAH!

McNasty: If Allen Chaney really thinks he can take us, we’re going to show him different!

Wilkie slams his hands on the table.

Wilkie: Hell yeah we are!

McNasty: Are you ready for this?

Wilkie: YEAH!

McNasty: LETS DO THIS!

McNasty and Wilkie high five before walking towards the camera, and off screen.

The white writing returns.

“To Be Concluded…Now.”

Handicap Match for the Number One Contenders Trophy

Fine Wine versus Allen Chaney

Once more, this match is done purely from my (Linzi Martin) point-of-view. Why? Because I’d rather steal Paul Alba’s shtick by documenting these commentaries I do for future reference when I write my badass autobiography.

And so, Allen Chaney was screwed by Simon Kalis in that weird triple threat tag-slash-handicap match booked on our previous installment of Aggression, also known as ‘go-home’ show of Merry Time Massacre. How? Allen pinned Alex Wilkie simultaneous to McNasty covering Erik Loomis but the ref took a bump so nobody was there to recognize these attempts. So what happens? Simon Kalis, our bookerman, comes running to the ring and pretends to not see Allen’s attempt because of his eyepatch, therefore exclusively recognizing McNasty’s and granting him victory.

Again, this booking looks like another chance to mess with Allen for smoothly finding a loophole thus ultimately acquiring a job in REBEL against Simon’s wishes. And the way this match starts likely made Simon grin: although Allen landed hard punches on both members of Fine Wine, the veteran team overwhelmed our standup giant through chops and punches, and eventually kicks once Allen fell to the canvas. While Wilkie occasionally kicked and dropped elbows during McNasty’s terrible attempt of a sharpshooter, Allen took hold of Wilkie’s foot and tripped him onto his ass! Kicking McNasty away from his feet, Allen easily stands and spears McNasty to the canvas.

Bionic elbow galore follows, which results in one mighty gutwrench powerbomb to McNasty from Chaney! Wilkie, having trouble standing due to his turtle-like physique (he literally has difficulty in rolling over onto his side as a turtle would), is kept on his back by a big splash off the middle turnbuckle from Chaney! Hooking the leg, John Chellios counts a one before McNasty’s jumping somersault senton breaks the count! Within two seconds, Allen is up on a knee, trying to fully stand, but McNasty swiftly denies that attempt via snap DDT!

Since it was a good moment to cover Allen, McNasty did so, but not a single count was made because Allen powerhouses out by pushing McNasty up and over him! Belly flopping onto the canvas, McNasty doesn’t get up as fast as he normally would due to the sharp sting and hesitance, which permits Allen to big boot Mark through the middle rope and onto the apron! Never before has anyone seen Allen do it, but god damn, it happened tonight: the chubby comedian impresses by a slingshot guillotine leg drop that practically decapitates McNasty!

Coughing violently thanks to that throat attack, McNasty is forced to take a snap suplex onto the outside cement by Chaney! Leaving Mark to wither in his pain, Allen returns to the ring and sees Wilkie awfully stuck on his back exactly like earlier. Pointing at Wilkie’s absurd situation, Allen lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. Then, rather cruelly, Allen places a foot against Wilkie’s throat and presses down for several seconds causing Alex to choke! John Chellios allows it until evidently remembering that shit is illegal and so tries to stop it, but then he remembers that this is REBEL Pro and rules like that don’t exist, so he lets Allen continue. Fucking Chellios! All the meanwhile, Alex Wilkie’s face has changed three colors (guess which ones) and in desperation, the pitiful fatty taps out! Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Shimmy Shimmy Ya” announces Allen’s victory, and the camera pans to see Mark McNasty barely standing and pissed.

Yet McNasty wasn’t allowed to stand there and sulk as he probably would have done and liked to. Why? Because fucking Macca jumped over the barricade, turned Mark around, flipped two middle fingers and stunner’d his ass!! Inside the ring, Allen Chaney sees Macca’s handiwork and challenges the cuntster to step inside – likely knowing this is a pattern – but unknowingly, behind him is Bubba J, who laughs.

Bubba J: “Hey Allen.”

Chaney turns around to see Bubba J.

Bubba J: “I got a joke for ya.”

Chaney: “Is it about how you-”

Interrupted by repeated torpedoes known as ‘Bubba’s fists’ blasting him in the face, Allen staggers backward into a Stunner by Macca!

Macca: “Here’s the only decent punchline you’ve been involved in, bitch”

Giving a kick to Allen’s gut, Macca then spits on him!

Bubba J: “Macca!”

Macca: “What?”

Bubba J: “You spat on him!”

Macca: “I really hate this cunt!”

Macca kicks Allen again for good measure. During all that, security comes pouring out and Bubba takes heed.

Bubba J: “Shit! We gotta fly!”

The two toughest bastards then flee over the barricade and through the crowd, with security pursuing them! The fans are losing their shit, by the way. I still can’t tell why the hell they’re doing this because this is the stuff people would boo you over, but those two are such badasses that it’s no wonder people cheer them.

The KKK Is in Canada!

Canada. Hocky lovin’, flannel wearin’, masturbating with maple syrup while freezing to fucking death Canada. Gawd, this place is messed up in the head. We are looking at two people from behind, one male and one female. It’s just starting to snow. We can’t tell but the female seems preoccupied with catching snowflakes. The male is the first to speak, he’s wearing a Misfits hoodie with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his torn jeans.

“This is the moment where any notion of a ‘UX Invasion’ is crushed on my knee and left bleeding helplessly on the canvas.” says the male.

“Who am I? I’m the guy people send to take care of shit like this. When uppity bitches want to get noticed or have their voices heard they call on me to get the job done. The Pantheon? One of the many iterations of the Order of Chaos? They told me they needed my help to take care of things.. And of all of those warriors who called themselves true ‘Apostles of Ares’ only one remains. Me. Ultimum Apostolus. The Last Apostle.” he says. He turns to the camera.

“Johnny Goddamn Maverick. I could use this moment to list all of my accomplishments, and there are a considerable amount, but instead I would like to NOT be a tool and address another ‘Five Star Mat Technician’ and a beard with a man attached to it. I am referring of course to ‘Wrestling’s Undisputed’ who represent an influx of talent from Underground X. More accurately they represent a rodent infestation and my student finally getting enough stress out of his system on a group of putzes to return to the AOWF, but that’s a story for him to tell. But hey! We also got back Deicide! Isn’t that….neat? I hear a small tribe of warriors live inside of his beard, capable of destroying the world. The only thing that keeps them at bay are the bright lights of wrestling arenas. So he has finally returned to the AOWF, knowing full well that he has returned to a company full of talent far superior to him, so he might be pinned to the ground to give the Beardites full view of the arena lighting. I for one fully support Deicide in his mission to calm his beard demons and my partner and I will do our best to help you on your path.” says Johnny before giving a super sincere smile and thumbs up.

“And Cesar? Another one of the people who toss around words like ‘Technician’ and ‘Purist’. You wanna know a little bit about me, Cesar? When I got my start my main focus was on Technical, Submission, and Catch-as-Catch-Can wrestling. I’m very, very good at it, and early in my career it earned me the first of my 1001 nicknames ‘The Smartass Submission Machine’. People kinda forget what that means and just call me a ‘MMA Striker guy’. Then there are those special occasions. The occasions where I’m booked against someone like Cody Bogard or Marvin Wood, two men who like to call themselves technicians and purists, and I just flat out get to outwrestle them. It’s a beautiful sight, it really is. I am really, really looking forward to facing you Cesar because I like beating people like you at your own game. And if you think you can take me on REBEL-style? You will learn why they call me a veteran in these parts. You can face either the Smartass Submission Machine or the Filth and The Fury. Pick your posion, Cesar. Neither of them go down smooth.” says Johnny, he turns to the female who says something. She may be talking to snowflakes. He isn’t sure.

“But seriously guys. You DO know we’re gonna wreck your shit, right? In an instant you will see the name ‘Wrestling’s Undisputed’ transform from a name that represents all that was good about UX into a statement of sad irony as my partner and I stand tall as the Undisputed Tag Team Champions of Rebel Pro Wrestling. Don’t feel too bad, we’ll have other legacies to shit on afterwards. It’s just what we do. My partner and I usually thrive on Controversy but there is going to be nothing controversial about what happens in this match aside from the usual bending of reality. The two of you are going to fall flat on your face just like everyone knows you will and Sean Robinson is just going to be another name in The ‘Archive of People The Phoenix Beat’ that Rob Robinson keeps beside his bed as a masturbation aide. This is going to be a shut-out victory for REBEL Pro. A ‘Massacre’ if you will.” he says, he thinks and nods to himself, deciding he has made his point before he turns back around. There is a moment of silence before he pokes the female in the arm to get her attention and she quickly spins around. He points to the camera as she groans.

“Doo I hav to?”

Johnny just shrugs in response. She sighs. “Four those hoo doan’t know, ya should know, mi name iz Anna Mathews and I’m won of the reel taggy champs alongside this asshole—“ She pauses pointing at said hooded asshole. “—and YOUR Aggression champ. An two be honest? Aye fink this whole UX thing izza bunch ov overhyped crap. Boo hoo. Sew ur ‘home’ had ta be devoured bi Rebel Pro after Johnny Depp blew up ev’rybuddy in the dam building. I’m feeling sew much sympy for joo.” Her lower lip quivers in faux-crying mode for a second.

“But it’s whatevs, I suppose. Deicide, Snooty Mexican Guy, aye really doan’t care bout those cardboard cutouts ya gots for shinys. Eye doan’t care hoe great oar ‘undisputed’ you konsider yerselves to be. It’s nawt something we haven’t heard before from utter people hoo fought their stuff didn’t stink. Funny thing is one wai oar another, won time or another, they get proven wrong. Yoor tyme iz nao, boyos, and knot inn that John Cena Brappledough sorta wai.” Maverick shoots a look that simply says ‘who?’ as Anna telepathically says ‘I’ll tell ya laterz’.

He quirks an eyebrow that symbolizes ‘What about the Justin Case fanclub you flew over here?’ as the camera pans to a group of half-naked grannies and forty-year old fugly virgins breaking their hips and shaking their sagging tits to PuppetDrake’s renditions of all the theme songs. The cameraman turns back quickly to save his sight which makes us look at Anna’s eyes narrow mimicking ‘Dat’s nut important rite nao’. It also gives the puppets enough time to scurry in front of them with enough weaponry to start a damn war which they both shrug off. She clears her throat.

“Annnnyhow. Point ish that know amount ov technical knowledge, no amount of ego, an no amount of hair lice off of Hobocide iz going ta protect yoo frum the slaughtering things we’re going to do wif joo tonight. It’s gonna be soooo much fun wit the tables and the ladders and the chairs and the glaven! We’re going tu crush wat little glory Wrestling’s Undisputed haz left and bury et six feet in a hole wit the rest of this Underground X stuff. Et’s nothing purrsonal. It’s jus something that kneeds to be done and it can be done anyway you want. Pinfalls, submissions, psychological warfare, by blood…whatever. Bottom line is it all goes down.” She grins her silly grin. “Come awn over. We’ll serve anybuddy.” One cheesy tough guy-and-silly-chick team pose later and we fade out.

“Hey, John-boy?”

“Hm?”

“Kan yoo ride a horse?”

Fake Empire V

(an off camera segment)
Yesterday morning, Rolling Stone’s senior editor David Fricke arranged a prerecorded audio-only interview with former UX, now REBEL’s (Un)disputed Tag Team Champions, Wrestling’s Undisputed, that was uploaded today at high noon on the magazine’s official website. Due to Deicide and Cesar Salazar’s intense world tour as of late to promote REBEL’s upcoming Christmas extravaganza, Fricke barely managed to rope these prolific, methodical dancers.

David Fricke: “You two are hard to get in touch with.”

Cesar Salazar: “Well, we do have a very important match coming up.”

Deicide: “And we want it to garner the buy-rate that reflects twenty-twelve the year of REBEL, Alliance’s savior, not an overbooked, poorly assembled ‘dome of destruction’ or rise-death-zombified-comatose-wake of tediously gimpy wrestling.”

David Fricke: “Wrestling observers widely criticize the AOWF championship community for its decline in relevance, and pointlessness. Do you two agree with that sentiment?”

Deicide: “The Alliance of Wrestling Federations went from predominance last year to an ‘Ugly Betty’ nose-dive. When UX was still alive, in the locker-rooms, when we first began business with AOWF, the boys would chatter about how AOWF’s social impact could help elevate UX into the mainstream quicker, though the truth of that has always been if the relationship began in 2011, we’d of been a harmonic resonance of Paul Thomas Anderson and Fiona Apple. Instead, in truth, that collaboration faired slightly better than Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries’ marriage. At least we got pass the honeymoon stage.”

Cesar Salazar: “In retrospect, people blame the sidelining of Teresa Quaranta, the loss of Victory Wrestling, Lisa Seldon’s administrative depart, and corruption of a few Stones and Blazenwings as reasoning for AOWF’s fall from grace. While that’s all true, it’s only half-right. What is lessening the Alliance’s importance is shortage of people who give a damn; not – as the ‘Orange Revolution’ puts it – an unwholesome amount of ‘bad talents’ per se. The standard hasn’t lowered, it’s been met by formulaic personalities with little regard to adding onto AOWF’s reputation because they’d rather collect ‘shinies’ for decorative purposes.”

Deicide: “And when a team like us comes along, who has an objective, those collectors end up quitting the promotions they’re allegedly champions of and even go as far as to degrade their former employer’s property on a rival promotion in efforts to ‘criticize’ – but what exactly? Self-parody best be the explanation, otherwise the idea of a ‘straight shooter’ accusing foul on anyone else other than itself is disgraceful and unprofessional.”

Cesar Salazar: “These types of people are who the Championship Community must negotiate and schedule. I truly feel for them, the Championship Community, because if I were in charge of marketing our alliance’s image around the Justin Cases, Luscious Starrs, Mr. Hardcores, Scottie Snows, Emily Corlens, Matt Stones, Gabe Shelleys – by the way, do you realize how far my listing could go?”

Deicide: “The terrible talent is in abundance, but what makes them terrible is what Salazar and I are interested in answering in this interview; and that answer will conclude what cannot only save REBEL Pro’s tag team division but the AOWF altogether.”

David Fricke: “Should I just give you two the floor?”

Cesar Salazar: “We wrestlers tend to cut lengthy promos on the spot. Sorry,” is said right before Cesar chuckles.

Deicide: “We layer rather thickly.”

David Fricke: “During that tirade, one of many coworkers you both took several shots at was Anna Mathews, who happens to be standing in your way of unifying the tag championships. Would you say she groups in with that ‘terrible abundance’?”

Cesar Salazar: “A fitting question. That directly focuses on our answer to what defines Undisputed. Unlike Virgil Keenan or Marvin Wood, who’d proclaim their in-ring technique belongs to the experts and all other styles simply don’t benefit in creating a ‘perfect’ league of ‘excellent’ wrestlers, the problem underlies in their thought process, not preferences. And, unlike Benjamin Dyce or Bubba J, who believe reliance on aggression ‘compels’ the masses, we recognize the largely unattended fans who’re sick of all the senseless violence, unfunny wackiness and inarticulate presentation.”

Deicide: “Let’s relate these issues to Kontroversy Kreates Kake since they coincidentally match that description. Maverick, for one, loses over and over countless times, yet he walks around cocky as ever, which insults the smart marks that know he has no future anymore. The last chance he had – and it was a big one – to redeem himself from such a bipolar career was when he went to Victory and won their World title. At the time, they were the place to be in AOWF. But how long was his title reign? I know Teresa buried the fuck out of him, and then the dude dropped off into TGW mid-card or whatever.”

Cesar Salazar: “It’s telling when after that his entire career became a big blur with some fake suicide yet hilariously real career suicide in-between.”

Deicide: “But Cesar, dude, that’s the past, man! Everybody knows ‘continuity’ doesn’t matter because everybody makes mistakes! Gosh, why are the people with clean records only eligible to run for President of the United States? How come all the smart nerds end up incredibly successful and rich in the long run?? Its way cooler to be badass and live by your own rules and be a nuisance because, quite frankly, anything that functions in that complicated of a number must be dense and sheepish!”

Cesar evidently smirks for his tone matches Deicide’s malicious sarcasm.

Cesar Salazar: “You know why Simon Kalis, Lisa Seldon, Matthew Engel and Teresa Quaranta have an incredible legion of supporters? Because the things they said and promised, they followed through and did so wisely and entertainingly, against odds and cheap derision. A common complaint amongst losers is, “why is winning all the time so god damn important?? It’s not like life ends there, in a handful of losses! People bounce back!” Yeah, if you want life to be where you can play Bruce Wayne getting his back broken by Bane, only to use supernatural means of healing yourself, such as a middle eastern guy roughly punching your spine back into place, to save the day: take a page out of Johnny Maverick’s book by fading to black.”

Off in the background, we hear Paul Alba’s lose his shit; laughing so hard, he coughs uncontrollably.

Deicide: “Sometimes Anna Mathews jobs, but for the most part, she’s an alright gal. I’ve fought her plenty of times elsewhere, but she’s like Macca in the sense that they’re just there. I don’t know what motivates her aside from collecting ‘shinies’.”

Cesar Salazar: “She’ll occasionally use wit by attacking no-sellers, for example, but other than that, she doesn’t do anything for anyone. She’s like a Diva, but can actually put on a show. I’m not sure if she relishes in the perception of her having a ‘fantastic’ ass and wants to be REBEL’s sex symbol, but if that’s it, she needs to take a stance because she’s Champion. The Aggression belt has always floundered, with no one to give it any worthiness, because, predictably, everyone wants the World Championship. It’s almost as if we should do away with the Aggression and Tag titles because what does it matter to anyone? And saying that actually hurts me.”

Deicide: “That’s what we mean by disgraceful. These wrestlers, Anna Mathews and Johnny Maverick, just don’t give a damn like we do. Ever since we became UX Undisputed Tag Champions, every tag team placed in front of us, whether in UX or REBEL, we beat them with style, smarts and fans’ approval, because we know what to say, what to do and how we want these fans to interpret us.”

Cesar Salazar: “Undisputed. Weren’t not being pretentious or overrating ourselves, and they, the fans, know it.”

Deicide: “You’ve seen our matches, David. For the past, what, five months, all we’ve done is conquered and tell everyone our mission is to take the Tag Division and turn it into a headlining attraction.”

Cesar Salazar: “We also want to reinvigorate this division by making it cool, fashionable and equivalent to the World Heavyweight Championship.”

Deicide: “Which is why Sean Robinson is also a member of Wrestling’s Undisputed; together, the three of us will do things indescribable, with a translation only capable through action. So far, our wins translate rather well, wouldn’t you agree?”

David Fricke: “I can tell you my boss anxiously demanded me to do this interview with you two at any cost.”

Cesar Salazar: “And why not the KKK? Perhaps it has something to do with ever since they beat the Kalis family, where have they been? Anna does her puppet skits and Maverick meddles in Allen Chaney’s frivolous affairs. Not once before this week have they ever said anything about this match.”

Deicide: “What the hell is up with that? Wouldn’t you say that’s a comment in itself on their priorities?”

Cesar Salazar: “It upsets me to think we’re booked against two people who’ve yet to even present themselves as a realized tag team. Where’s their enthusiasm to restore REBEL’s tag division?”

Deicide: “In theory, them tagging makes plenty of sense: both dabble in outrageousness, talk about ‘beating people up and stuff’ all pseudo-coolly, and act as if wrestling is a hobby.”

Cesar Salazar: “Compared to us, whose personalities also go hand-in-hand, only we got the chemistry to work?”

Cesar sighs.

Cesar Salazar: “Sadly, I feel that the Tag division is a lost cause sometimes. Our combined effort likely won’t be matched until Lisa Seldon and Teresa Quaranta come back to take us on, or something.”

Deicide: “Basically, our competition sucks, but really, that’s why Simon Kalis called us over to REBEL to begin with: we’re here to fix this mess and help continue REBEL’s success.”

David Fricke: “REBEL is unofficially yet widely accepted as the number one promotion in the AOWF today. A lot of that is due to the UX mergence.”

Cesar Salazar: “Yeah, that’s right, but Simon Kalis and Larry Gordon know nobody will care about that in a few months. We X’ers have already been here for a few months, now. Next, after Wrestling’s Undisputed forge REBEL’s Undisputed Tag titles, and Robbo saves the World Heavyweight Championship from that careless Phoenix, our goal is to cement ourselves as REBEL icons.”

Deicide: “It’s nice that we are officially UX Legends but we must move away from that image to grow. In some ways, Maverick is more of a PWA guy and Anna is halfway between a Victory gal and future REBEL legend, but their how does cialis feel aimless direction and silent voices prevent that.”

David Fricke: “One last question before we wrap this up: Anna Mathews also has a match against Justin Case, but that’s been billed to take place after your TLC match. How do you feel about her double booking?”

Deicide: “Hopefully she gets double the paycheck, or her holiday bonus is enough to cover the hospital bill.”

Cesar Salazar: “Seriously. She’s about to walk into a match with the GSP and Anderson Silva of wrestling, and then be expected to fight the Nick Cannon of wrestling. To be fair, after that first match, Nick Cannon will probably seem a whole lot more Tito Ortiz than usual.”

Like earlier, Paul Alba hysterically loses his shit, and Deicide’s laugh is audible, too.

David Fricke: “Thank you, gentlemen, for this near-hour long interview.”

The recording ends there.

REBEL Pro World/Disputed Tag Team Championship Unification TLC Match

The KKK© versus Wrestling’s Undisputed©

Do I really need to remind you whose perspective this is from? Nope? Good. Our next match is to unify both UX and REBEL Pro tag team championships in tables, ladders and chairs stipulation. We’re witnessing this because Wrestling’s Undisputed is on a quest to conquer the tag division and remold it to fit their vision for it. The KKK on the other hand is here to kickass, put on a good show and leave with the belts. Not much more to say about that, really. I mean, at Armed Assault, the two teams did exchange hands when Wrestling’s Undisputed first appeared on a REBEL production. Besides that, these two teams haven’t made much contact.

Yet the way this match starts, you’d think they’re sworn enemies: first tag team entrance was The KKK, who came out to a great reaction – very supportive and stuff. So Wrestling’s Undisputed came out afterward, to a more mixed response, but halfway down the ramp, Anna Mathews, with a steel chair in hand, jumped from canvas onto the top rope displaying awesome athleticism, then propelled herself to smash the chair against Cesar Salazar’s head!! Three quick knees to Anna’s chest is Deicide’s prompt response, followed by a blatant choke that isn’t interrupted for eleven seconds till Johnny Maverick saves the day via running shoetie!!

Smacking against a barricade, Deicide is not halted completely, but a powerful Spartanesque running boot kicks Deicide over the barricade and onto the laps of fans! That right there temporarily puts Deicide out of commission, and Maverick soaks in a huge markage from the fans. From behind, Cesar Salazar wraps his arms around Maverick’s waist, immediately deadweight lifts for a nasty Gargoyle suplex onto the concrete ground! Transitioned into a cross-armed surfboard, the submission is effective but Anna Mathew’s Arabian facebuster smashes a steel chair into Salazar’s face once again to cease all of his action!

Unloading a big ball of violence onto Cesar soon after Anna mounts him, this viciousness continues for at least forty seconds, which is all it takes for Salazar to horribly bleed from the mouth and nose! Satisfied with her handiwork, Anna leaves Cesar to setup a table. Maverick is stirring now, so he goes to assist Anna once fully up. Together, with the table set, Maverick and Anna execute an aided snap swinging neckbreaker that sends Cesar through the table!

Enraged upon standing, Deicide uses the barricade to leap forth and double clothesline Maverick & Anna! Tapping into his mixed martial arts background, a combination of thrust kicks and boxing jabs stuns both KKK members, but a one-armed shoulder throw sends Anna back-first against nearby steel steps and Maverick is momentarily eliminated via inner thigh void throw! Having single-handedly disemboweled the solid offense from KKK, Deicide grabs a steel chair and repeatedly bashes it against Anna’s ankles!! Two! Five! Eight! Twelve times! Fucking hell, Anna is screaming in pain!!

Strangely yet unsurprisingly, it’s Cesar Salazar who snatches the chair away from Deicide!

Deicide: “What the hell?”

Cesar Salazar: “This is not how we go about this!”

Deicide: “I don’t feel as strongly as you do.”

Cesar Salazar: “Our mission is to defeat them through technique, not by usage of these things!”

Salazar releases the steel chair from his grip.

Cesar Salazar: “Let’s go get those belts, now.”

Pointing skyward at the REBEL Pro and UX tag titles hanging twenty feet above the ring, Salazar pats Deicide on the back before grabbing a ladder, sliding it inside the ring and following. Choosing to remain outside of the ring, Deicide grabs a tearful Anna Mathews and hugging high lift throws her against the barricade!! Back inside, Salazar has perfectly aligned the setup ladder beneath the dangling championships and is now climbing, but from behind, Johnny Maverick springboards off the top rope to wheel kick Salazar’s backside! Sliding down several rungs, Cesar manages to catch his balance before falling off altogether, though this coincidentally assists Maverick in double underhook suplexing Salazar against a ladder leaning on a turnbuckle in a nearby corner!!! The ladder is bent soon as Salazar’s body makes contact!! “Thank You, Maverick” chants galore.

Sneak attacking Maverick from behind through headbutts, Deicide whips Maverick into the corner chest-first, bombards him with a landslide of lightning-strike punches to the spine, jumps atop the turnbuckle and leads Maverick onto the middle buckle by the hair, all the while continuing to elbow his spine to ensure cooperation. What came next is undoubtedly the spot of the night: lifting Maverick into an inverted belly-to-back position, Deicide jumps off the turnbuckle and freefalls to the outside driving Maverick headfirst through a table for the sickest spike piledriver ever!!!!

Fans: “RE-BEL PRO! RE-BEL PRO! RE-BEL PRO”

And all those excitable chants follow, and for good reason. I’m getting wet myself. Shit is hectic! While Deicide and Maverick lay outside, Anna Mathews is inside the ring and starting to climb the ladder! It’s taking her a while though after having a steel chair crack her ankles a record-setting twelve times, understandably. However, this provides opportunity for Salazar to also make his way to and up the ladder, which, given his badly beaten body, isn’t quicker than Anna’s pace, yet they eventually meet at the top simultaneously.

From there, the two dramatically exchange back-and-forth punches, which at first were alarmingly fast but gradually got slower. Punch after punch, Anna Mathews looks like she’s about to fall off, but is hanging on by one hand! Salazar moves in closer to try and punch her off with one last shot, but instead, Anna swings her free hand around so swiftly, the momentous punch collides with Salazar’s chin so greatly, he collapses, hits his chin on a rung on the way down, and whiplashes backward against the canvas for maximum markage!!! Anna Mathews has done it!! She’s the sole person standing, and inches away from those belts!!! For the love of god, Anna, all you have to do is unbutton them!! She gathers whatever remains of her strength, reaches – OH MY GAAAAWWWD!!!!!!

Cesar Salazar used his feet to push against his side of the ladder so that the Ladder tipped over horizontally and sent Anna flying backwards through our announce table!!! In the process, Anna takes out Larry Gordon, who at first was losing his shit from delight but then lost his shit from horror because Anna tumbled on top of him!!! With the ladder still mostly standing, Salazar weakly gets up and pulls it back down to stand properly. Ascending the ladder, fans voice a highly mixed reaction – some cheering, some booing, you know the fucking deal – but at end, Cesar Salazar unhooks all four REBEL Pro and UX Undisputed Tag Championships!! Ramin Djawadi’s “Game of Thrones Main Title” divides and conquers this sold-out arena to declare Wrestling’s Undisputed victory!

Cesar Salazar sits atop the ladder with a literal bloody grin, and Deicide comes inside to receive both of his tag championships. On each of their shoulders rest both REBEL Pro’s Tag Team Championships and UX Undisputed Tag Team Championships! Though, now, I guess we’ll refer to those belts as Undisputed REBEL Pro Tag Championships!

OH DEAR GAWD! Here comes the Toughest Bastards!! Macca slides in the ring, spins Salazar around, and smashes a beer bottle against his already bloody forehead! Likewise, Bubba J too smashes a bottle over Deicide’s head, but unlike Salazar, Deicide does not immediately collapse. So, in good taste, Bubba J flips him off and stunners his bum ass!!!

Macca: “Cheers that, Cunts!”

Macca is heard saying after picking up the tag championships and raising them high above, same as Bubba J! Rushing down the ramp is Simon Kalis’ security force, but in front of them leading the way is Paul Alba!!?

Alba tells the security to stay outside of the ring – “I got this” – he says, reassuringly. Macca is confused at first, because at one point in time, Macca and Alba were the best of drinking buddies.

Paul Alba: “Macca, please give me the belts.”

Reaching out for them but not trying to grab them, Alba politely asks.

Macca: “Why the fuck are you with these cunts??”

Paul does not respond.

Macca: “Silent treatment, eh?”

Dropping the belts, Paul Alba is slightly turned around to eat a stunner from Bubba J!!

Macca: “Cheers, Alba.”

Macca says right before all sixteen security guards slide into the ring and madly brawl with the toughest bastards!! Surprisingly, Macca and Bubba each hold their own against this force, but eventually are overwhelmed once Cesar Salazar and Deicide assist Simon’s crew in the beatdown!

The Chosen One

Upon the REBEL PRO Titan Tron we come to view “The Chosen One” and current Franchise killer, Justin Case. With him is his new reality star singer turned vulgar valet biker chick, Susan Boyle. She spits on the floor as we pan over to see Case’s manager The Wiz, holding of all things a straightjacket. The Wiz simply holds the straightjacket in the air as we pan out to see all three figures.

Justin Case: over time you have established yourself as the person you want people to see. You have created an image that has worked well for you in the past. Up until now.

Susan Boyle lets out a high pitched heckle.

Justin Case: You see, 7 percent of human communication is verbal. That leaves 93 percent in which is the way you conduct yourself, your body language, your facial expressions and the presence you have created for yourself. It all has worked for you in the past because we have all been fooled by your tactics. But now yours truly.

Case’s eyes narrow.

Justin Case: Anna Mathews, you are a catfish. You pretend to be something you are not. And now I think Ive stepped on a gold mine. Because I think I finally figured you out. You see Anna, for years now you have been walking around as the crazy lady we all want to avoid pissing off, because you will use your creative method of madness to hide your true indentity. However, now that I have figured you out, I have thus opened a pandoraz box that will surely open the door to greater things for myself, not just in the future, but when we face off for your belt.

……It will soon be mine!

“TCO’s” eyes widen with an inlightened glow.

Justin Case: And Because of what I know you to be, your days as Aggression Champion are coming to an end. But Mathews, It was a great reign, and one that will go down in the record books. However, I now see right through you! And as the catfish that you are, soon I will defeat you and take what is rightfully mine. The REBEL PRO Aggression Title will look very talented around my waist! But first, I want to prove to you and the world what others before me have failed to realize.

Susan Boyle lets off a sly evil grin.

Justin Case: The first is the fact that Anna Mathews is a fake from top to bottom! Your verbal accent is just a put on to present yourself as a crazed lunatic. But in reality you arent a crazed she devil. You are a cool, complicated calculated person. Although, In reality you have no self esteem, you have cut yourself off from normal society because you fear that they will figure you out just as I have. But for you it is far too late. Because in reality you arent the crazy cat lady who preys on the weak and talks a good game. You are nothing more than a scared kitty cat trying to mask her true self so to not feel the pain of what you really are.

Case pauses to let off a cocky glow.

Justin Case: And that person you really are is a weak minded, worthless sorry excuse of a pathetic human being! That you have used to manufest your way to the top by pretending to be some psycho ass bitch. However, we all know now that you are just a fraud. A shameful, disgraceful ugly human being that has no will, no pride and more importantly no dignity to show the world who you really are. And what are you really?

The Wiz hoists up the Straight Jacket yet again.

Justin Case: You are a person who is weak to the very core. As per mentioned. And as this person I now know you to be, after our match, when my arm is raised in victory, all will then know that what I say is nothing more than the 100 percent truth. Make no mistake about it. In our match I will cut you down inch by inch with my pure athleticly skilled and very talented abilities! Now knowing full well who the real Anna Mathews is, my plan is to capitalize on the real Anna Mathews as I see you. And as that fake posing, scared to death disgrace that I know you to be, during our match I will use this to my advantage as I take the Aggression Title from you and make it mine. All because you couldnt show the world your true colors. In your heart of hearts you are just a lost little girl. You hide by pretending to be someone you are not. And it is with that in mind that I need to remind the world that this type of character does not sit well in a REBEL PRO Aggession Champion.

Case’s eyes deepen with coldness.

Justin Case: So now it will be up to yours truly to restore the dignity of the REBEL PRO Aggression Championship Title Belt. You see, the belt has been dipped in dishonored disgrace for far too long. Now it will be up to me to restore the integrity of the REBEL PRO Aggression Title, and bring back the respect that the belt deserves. I mean Lets face it, even a person with my background is better fit to wear that title belt than any fake ass poser of a woman who cant admit her own faults. And once I am the new holder of the Aggression Title, I will be that much closer to finishing the job as the REBEL PRO franchise killer!

Susan Boyle continues laughing.

Justin Case: I will finsh what I came here to do. With yours truly as champion, I can further my grasp on REBEL PRO and take with me the title belt that represents REBEL PRO in all its glory. within my hands will then be power. And with power comes prestige. My grip on REBEL PRO will then be that much closer to where it needs to be. You see, I have come to end the federation of REBEL PRO! And with each Title I hold, when I do finish the job, I will not just take with me each and every championship title belt, when my job is done, I will then leave REBEL PRO with every belt at my talented grasp!

Case looks at the Straight Jacket in The Wiz’s arms.

Justin Case: Ending REBEL PRO once and for all! You see, unlike The Phoenix, I wont hide in the shadows. I wont get my back up to attack you from behind. While may not care, I do. Forget the puppets and cake. You dont need to hide behind dolls and desserts. I know the real you and soon the world will too. You are at the end of your fall from grace. Your career is a yo-yo and you are anything but balanced. Stop will you still can. Because the clock is ticking.

……tick tick BOOM!

The group share an evil laugh.

Justin Case: So now you know my plan is in effect. But you also may be wondering what this straightjacket is for. You see, I have come bearing gifts. Why dont we have a ladder match for your title belt? And then the loser has to be put in a straightjacket for the next week. Its perfectly talented idea, dont you think? Because Anna, sooner or later all will be aware. When its all said and done, no one is better than “The Chosen One”.

As the group stand in mockery of the Aggression Champion, the camera suddenly cuts off to static.

REBEL Pro Aggression Championship Match

Justin Case versus Anna Mathews©

I had to come down to the ring and bear witness to this match, and hey, I’m interested in giving people a point of view from none other than the man Simon Kalis himself. No one wants to hear Larry Gordon, certainly, besides, he got knocked around during the TLC match at the end and fucked right off to get his fat ass checked for hemorrhoids or something. And I feel bad. Really bad. Adrian and I were supposed to battle, but instead Anna is forced to go from one match to the next. Both title defenses, back to back of one another. I’ve done of one of these in the PWA. Lost the tag titles, won Who’s The Man. Maybe Anna is going down the same path? Though as we watch Justin Case come out you’d better believe he’s got a fire raging somewhere in that dimwitted brain of his, a likely explanation of how he can be so dumb. But I begrudgingly admit, the Chosen One has talent. I’d not have suffered his return to REBEL Pro if I didn’t think he could make it back to the top.

He’s Canadian after all, and for all the love I have for Anna there is no questioning my countryman’s blood as the superior. Then again, this is Justin Case we’re talking about and blood can only go so far. But just look at Anna coming back to the ring, she is far from rested and everyone knows it. Especially the vulture of House Case. Poor girl is fucking limping, they really cracked at that ankle hard and I’m hoping she’s alright. I take full credit for opening everyones eyes to just how fine “dat ass” is on her, but she is far from looking it early going here. Justin Case is pressing his power and size advantage immediately here by grappling Anna and suplexing her with a quick snap like she’s a ragdoll. Another snap suplex sends Anna rolling around on the canvas.

Case is a shark who smells blood as he locks up Anna Mathews in a figure four leg lock. Pressing the damage done earlier by Wrestling’s Undisputed, Anna writhes in pain with nowhere to go. God damn are we about to see Justin fucking Case recapture the Aggression title? It’s starting to look like it with Anna unable to reach the ropes as she tries bitterly hard to do so. Susan Boyle is cheering on, I feel like puking looking at her. But Case lets go of the hold and rolls out of the ring, leaving Anna a chance to recover as best she can from this onslaught. Might’ve been a mistake. But with him grabbing a chair from ringside left over from the TLC match maybe not. Anna is gingerly on her feet and she just runs, jumps and leaps over the top rope and body splashes right on Justin Case and takes him down before he has a chance to make another addendum to the English language. Anna elbows him in the face while on top of him and rolls off.
Looks like Susan Boyle wants in on this, as if Anna hasn’t got enough shit to deal with. But Anna Mathews hits a Big Ball of Violence on Susan. Fuck that was nuts, I think I saw a titty slip from Anna but that might just be my wishful thinking. Anna has Susan knocked flat on her fat pimply ass but The Wiz takes a swing with his cane but Anna metes out another Big Ball of Violence on him and shuts that fucker up too. Well done, Ms. Mathews. Well done. Of course Case is waiting for her to turn around and as she does he swings with that chair BUT Anna ducks! Big Ball of Violence for Justin Case has him laid flat out. That shit reminds me of Street Fighter, and Anna is Akuma and it’s like the screen goes white and everyone wakes up murdered. And possibly raped.

Anna Mathews tries to lift Case up to put him into the ring, and I figure even being 100% she’d have trouble lifting a heavyweight like Case but with her ankles all battered half way to her wrists this is an exercise in futility and Anna recognizes that. Even with REBEL Pro’s lack of rules, she still needs to get him into the ring for the pin to count. So she does what anyone

would do in her position and picks the chair Case intended to use on her and begins bashing it on his face until he bleeds. I suppose if I wanted to be a dick I could stand up and call this a First Blood match since Case annoys me but I won’t. I’ve got Allen Chaney to be my play thing.

Case is obviously mad as he gets to his feet, blood trickling down his talented fucking face. Anna chucks the heavily dented steel chair aside and gingerly climbs up onto the ring apron, breathing heavily I notice. Not that I stare at her chest all the time or anything, it’s just you know, we focus on her great ass we forget she has other fine features as well. Clearly the exhaustion of back to back title matches has her whooped though but she lands on Case and goes for a hurricanrana! Excellent execution! Or I would say that at least, had Case not caught her, spun her around and powerbombed her against the railing separating the fans from them so hard her neck looks like it might’ve just broken. That can’t be good.

Case takes Anna up and hoists her into the ring. He grabs that cane Wiz carries and rolls into the ring, raising it up for the crowd to cheer but these Montrealais boo this fucker like he’s wearing a Toranna Maple Laffs jersey. He swings down at Anna, but she’s still well within it to roll away instinctively. He takes another swing and another roll from Anna until she rolls right out of the ring. She circles, still limping, damn. But she’s got fight in her as she hops up onto the ring apron, surely cringing in pain but like a true champion ignoring it. She flips up onto the top rope and Case swings the cane again but she ducks and maintains her balance on that top rope before jumping up and this time successfully executing that hurricanrana. She quickly covers but only garners a two count, with Case wiping more of his own thick red Canadian blood off his face. This would be a cool time to do this, “open the dome” and bang. The dome above opens up and snow begins flowing into the stadium. Because let’s make this interesting right!?

Anna grabs the cane and swings in a downward strike like she’s going Gregor Clegane on Justin Case but Case rolls out of the way this time himself, and you gotta wonder if it’s them being smart now or that’s just a shitty weapon. Case rolls and gets to his feet, god damn he is awful, and Anna swings for his head like she’s Babe Ruth reborn. He ducks and kicks her in the gut and then grabs her. He spins her around and lays her out with a backbreaker so hard I’m pretty sure I heard a crunch. Case stops to look up at the dark night sky and the snow falling and floating down over them all as Anna crawls, all kinds of fucked up. Maybe opening the dome was a bad idea, I probably put Case into his element in a Canadian snowfall.

Their breath frosts now in the air as Case lifts Anna up and sets her up. Fuck. Just 2 Talented. Fuck. He pins, god damn it. WAIT! ANNA PUTS HER FOOT ON THE ROPE! OH YEAH TAKE THAT CASE! No Aggression title for you fucker!

So Case decides to drag Anna into the middle of the ring and cover again. Maybe I underestimated his intelligence. BUT ANNA KICKS OUT! Oh fuck yes! Come on sweety, get up. Get up! Case has this look in his eyes man, and now we’ve got Susan Boyle and The Wiz climbing their collective Big fat fuck Mac asses into the ring. Son of a bitch. “Why don’t you step in?” Shut up Linzi, what does this look like? The PWA? Anna can handle herself. I think.

Case has that stupid cane again but Anna bounces off the ropes and hits a Boomerfly Kick on The Wiz, sending him right back out of the ring! YES! She goes for the Boomerfly Kick on Case but Susan Boyle pushes him out of the way and takes the hit for him. Jesus. She rolls herself out of the ring, hopefully the impact of her ass doesn’t crack off more of this fucking building. Case swings for Anna but Anna catches the cane with her hands and rips it out of Case’s grasp. She swings, stops the swing as Case ducks down and then hits that downward attack again and cracks it over his head. She bounces off the ropes, comes back, BOOMERFLY KICK! YES!!! And Anna, breath frosting and all, falls over Case and covers!

ONE! TWO! WAIT A FUCK MINUTE! Susan god damn Boyle just yanked Anna’s foot and pulled her towards the ring apron. Oh god what is that in her hands? Where’d she get that? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!

Susan is smashing a god damn brick on Anna’s injured ankle until the brick itself breaks apart. Anna is in a lot of pain right now. Case is now up, that Boomerfly Kick opened up more of his head. Anna kicks Susan and spins on her belly, and she cracks Susan in the face from her belly. Anna grabs half a brick and turns over onto her back as Case comes for her. YEAH! She cracks Case across the face with the brick and it knocks him the fuck out. Case is down! Anna! GET UP! GET UP! And she is!

Anna can’t even stand on that foot now though, fuck. She’s heading up top for Slash and Burn but she can’t keep her balance that ankle is too fucked. She goes for the big double jump 630 splash but that she can’t and falters and lands on the turnbuckles. Case is up and quickly capitalizes, pulling her off and going for a butterfly suplex before quickly switching it to a piledriver.

Fuck. Just 2 Talented. He covers. One. Two….

God damn it. Referee Alan Stone raises Justin Case’s hands and hands him the REBEL Pro Aggression Championship. Justin Case has won. Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick. Quick lets get Anna some help here. Fuck.

This Is Wrestling

As the REBEL ring crew unloads the equipment trucks and carries the ring into Le Stade Olympique, Sean Robinson stands at the top of the entrance ramp. He looks down over the ringside area, his back to the camera. He speaks softly, just barely raising his voice above a whisper.

“I’ve been in this company for just under two months, but astute fans will know that this isn’t my first go-round in REBEL. I started my career here, cut my teeth in that ring, got my first wins and losses against some serious legends of the business. At the time I left, I thought I would never be back. The fans hated me, and rightly so. So I moved around a little, went up to Alberta for a bit, then back down to Vegas. And that’s where I really found my niche. In Underground X, I became a legend in my own right. I beat the best that UX had to offer, week in and week out. I built a reputation as the best technical wrestler in the game. I strove every night to improve my skills and surpass my own abilities. And in doing so, I did something that no other man had done before. I held the Undisputed Championship for one hundred and twenty days. That’s four months of the greatest champion in the history of the company.

And then Mainerishi blew it all up, I nearly died, and I found myself drifting. Lost at sea, not a single scrap of driftwood to grab on to. But then I was saved, by the most unlikely duo of Paul Alba and Kevin Holiday. And they told me about REBEL. They reminded me of the place where it all started, all those years ago. So I came here, back to where my career began, to try and salvage what was left of it. I knew I would have a long road back. You don’t get burned in an Inferno match one day, and go right back to living high on the proverbial hog the next. You start down at the bottom and work your way back up to the plateau. And that’s where I am today, fingertips clawing at the top of the mountain once again. I’m one match away from simultaneously breaking new ground, and returning to old form.

But I find myself in a unique situation tonight. I’m the challenger for a title which the champion doesn’t want to hold. He actively denies his right to be called the REBEL World Heavyweight Champion. He throws the belt on the ground, defiling the legacy and history it represents. Rob, do you have any idea whose names you’re stepping on when you let that belt hit the floor? When you spit on REBEL, do you know who you’re slighting?

Rex Caliber. Stylin’ Kyle Roberts. The Show, Chad Kurtis. Vincent Black. Lisa Seldon. Bubba J. The list of REBEL Icons who have held that belt goes on cialis australia mastercard and on. And yet you continue to treat those names as footnotes to your AOWF World Title. You ignore their accomplishments, and the paths they blazed to put this company on the map.

Now, I’m not going to stand here and compare myself to them. I was here when Rex and Kyle and Chad ran roughshod over REBEL. Vincent, Bubba, and the rest of Extreme Elite nearly put me in a wheelchair. But I remember those days, and that’s where our difference lies. Do you even remember what it was like before you were the champion? Or does your memory begin and end with that gold around your waist? You see, Rob, I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be hungry. To need every win, because just the slightest loss of momentum could set you back a year or more in your hunt for the belt. But that’s where we differ, once again. I remember that. I still live for those moments. Those moments of doubt that you power through to finish a match, those moments of weakness before your second wind, those moments of pain as you miss your goal by fractions of an inch. Those moments, Rob…

That’s wrestling.”

He turns to face us as the ring crew finishes constructing the massive steel cell. The demonic structure is lifted into the air above the ring, ready to be lowered into place for tonight’s main event. As he walks past the camera into the backstage areas, the front of his black t-shirt comes into focus. In the center is the modified version of the Boston Bruins logo that Robinson has come to use as his own. Above that, in gold lettering, are three words…

THIS IS WRESTLING

Another Sacrifice

The faux-classical guitar intro of “Welcome Home” lets the crowd know that the REBEL Pro World champion, the Phoenix is about to make an appearance. Never one to disappoint, he steps into the arena in a flash of red pyro. The crowd boos, but the arena might as well be empty for all the notice the Phoenix gives. He walks to the ring, wearing a new black and silver mask, wearing his AOWF World title belt and has the RPW World title belt over his shoulder, as normal. He climbs into the ring and stands in the middle and starts to speak without waiting for the crowd to shut up.

The Phoenix: Last week I showed what a motivated Phoenix is capable of. Last week I showed why I was able to beat Marvin Wood and win the title. And let me tell you all something. I’ve fought all the biggest names in the history of this sport and Marvin is without a doubt the toughest opponent I’ve ever faced. He’s a man I respect, a man I admire, and a man I consider a friend. And even so, I didn’t hesitate to put him down.

The Phoenix: That’s the Phoenix people have come to expect. That’s the Phoenix that REBEL Pro hasn’t seen much of lately. So when the roster here swelled with the UX castaways, I know they heard all about me. I’ve held more World titles than they’ve got fingers. I’ve won more titles than most of them have had birthdays. And on top of that, this belt around my waist says that I am, beyond a doubt, the best wrestler in the AOWF.

The Phoenix: But all these new guys, what they’ve seen of me so far, frankly, hasn’t been all that impressive. Last week was a step in the right direction, but this week I’m going to give them a lesson to show them that my reputation is more than earned.

The Phoenix: Tonight I’m facing a man with an unfortunate last name. He didn’t know it, but that name has earned him the beating of a lifetime. That name is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me and I’m going to destroy him just for making me say it. Sean Robinson is going to stand across the ring from me later tonight, he’s going to have dreams of an early Christmas present but I’m not going to let that happen. Just like the Grinch, I’m going to swoop in from the top of my mountain and bring devastation to Seanville.

The Phoenix pauses and smiles. He pulls out a piece of paper he had tucked away behind the AOWF World title belt, unfolds it and reads.

I’ve got the AOWF belt and the one here in REBEL Pro.
How did I earn them? Soon shall Sean know.
I like to hurt people and you know I love to cheat.
I’ve got talent aplenty and can think on my feet.Sean is the upstart, the scrappy young pup,
But the fact of the matter is he couldn’t carry my cup.
He has these delusions of beating the champ,
That fucker’s so stupid he probably loves lamp.

I’m going to hurt him, kick in his little Sean face.
I’m going to beat his fucking ass all over the place.
He’ll beg me for mercy, his pleas all in vain,
cause the Phoenix is planning on bringing the pain.

I’ll break his arms and his leg and even his nose.
When I’m done he’ll be hurting all over, right down to his toes.
Don’t make the error of thinking I’m all talk,
consider yourself lucky if you’re still able to walk.

I am the Phoenix, the best of all time.
The ways I will hurt you are most likely a crime.
All the fans in the building, from the front row to the nose bleed
Will look away in disgust, like you’re the Human Centipede.

Your dreams will be dashed, your spirit will be broken.
Mark these words well Sean, for truer have never been spoken.
Every word that I said, they all are prophetic,
Because I’m the goddamn Phoenix and you’re fucking pathetic.

The Phoenix: I hope you enjoyed that, Sean, cause that’s the last time tonight you’ll get to smile. And most likely the last time you’ll ever get to smile with all your teeth. I promised that the end is coming for the entire AOWF. I’ve heard what people have been saying. They doubt me, think I’m blowing hot air. Of course, the people saying this clearly have no idea what I’m capable of. That’s why tonight, one way or another, an example will be made. For REBEL Pro to survive a little while longer, a sacrifice is required. And Sean? You’re the lamb being led to the slaughter. You’re entering the ring with a force of nature and you are woefully unprepared.

The Phoenix: If you want this title, think about what it will take to acquire it. Would you be willing to risk the health of your best friend to get it? I was. I was more than willing, actually. I spilled his blood, I twisted his limbs, made his joints bend in ways no god ever intended. And then I made him do the same to me. I fought Marvin Wood on a physical and mental level and I won. That’s what I was willing to do to win a title I’ve openly admited I don’t give a damn about. I risked friendship and health for something that I didn’t care about.

The Phoenix: That’s the kind of man I am, Sean. That’s why I continue requiring sacrifices from the AOWF. If I’m willing to put everything on the line to win the most meaningless of titles, how can I expect the people around me to not share my burden? I’m destroying the two things I’ve loved most in the world, the AOWF and the PWA, because I’ve seen how low they have fallen, how they’re no longer worthy of their names. I’m ready to burn the world to the ground and rebuild it all by myself.

The Phoenix: Most men in my position, they’d just walk away. I’ve got money, fame… I don’t need any of this. I could relax on a beach for the rest of my days. But I won’t. Because even though the AOWF and REBEL Pro in particular are full of people that shouldn’t be allowed to speak to me, let alone wrestle me, I’m still the Phoenix and that still means something. I’m the greatest of all time and I refuse to let my legacy be tarnished by the filth and garbage that was accumulated here. I’m going to fight, bleed and suffer all in the name of a place I loath and a championship I despise. I’m willing to break men down, to crush and destroy them for fans that hate me. I’m ready to end careers all because I won a title I never wanted but even so, I’m the champion and that means something.

The Phoenix: In short, Sean, I’m willing to do all of that for something I don’t even care all that much about. So tell me Sean, if I will destroy my best friend for this title, just what, exactly, do you think I’m going to do to you?

REBEL Pro World Heavyweight Championship: HELL IN A CELL Match

Sean Robinson versus Rob “The Phoenix” Robinson

Our Main Event of the evening and finale of REBEL’s 2012 pits Robrob versus Robbo, for the World Heavyweight Championship inside a Hell in a Cell, the demonic structure lowering from the rafters onto ringside. At the height of 17 ft and weighing approximately two tons, this enclosure demands no disqualification, time limitless, and a victor by means of pinfall, submission or referee stoppage.

Kanye West’s “Amazing (Heartbeats Remix)” flares to an unbelievably boisterous optimism in the Olympic Stadium. During an immense explosion of hot-red-colored fireworks, out poured dozens of ballerinas (dressed in ‘Ultimate Warrior’ and ‘Macho Man’ attire) dance eloquently as the words “THIS IS WRESTLING” zip-lined across the theater projector screen in bold gold. Atop the steel structure holding together the jumbo tron is Sean Robinson, who performs a sexy-boy dance for all the sweet Angies of the world. Then, in true wrestling fashion, Robbo jumps off the tron to be zip-lined down and land precisely in front of the cell’s door, safely. Earlier in the entrance, Paul Alba went mostly unnoticed as he came in through the crowd to meet Robbo at the door so to open it for him. Sean fist bumps Alba once before entering the cage, thus ending his rather flamboyant introduction.

Europe’s “The Final Countdown” sprays its overplayed yet iconic jizz all up in our ears, but our eyes are forced to endure an impossibly showier firework display than Robbo’s. Instead of ballerinas, three dozen NFLesque cheerleaders wearing sluttier versions of Phoenix’s attire (yes, plus his mask) pompom and high-kick all in the name of AOWF’s & REBEL’s World Heavyweight Champion. Forming a large huddle, the cheerleaders bend forward and shake their asses at the crowd for a bit, and then shoot skyward like wannabe anime characters with huge, toothy smiles as the Phoenix emerges through a rising platform. Standing still for all to behold, the primary AOWF gem of a strap is wrapped firmly around The Phoenix’s waist as REBEL’s most prestigious belt dangles from his clenched fist held upward.

Fast-forward two minutes later since Phoenix spent the rest of his entrance pandering like a smug cunt; the two Robinsons stand face-to-face for the first time. Boiling anticipation is evident from our diehard fans that packed tightly inside the Stadium, likely to witness ultimate solution for many-a-questions in need of answering: which Robinson is the better wrestler, the better champion, the bigger cunt, the least overrated, the worst no-seller and the most flammable? We might not get an answer for ‘most flammable’ though, but who fucking knows, really. You know how these things go.

Referee John Chellios (who Sean Robinson has absolutely no love for as indicated by their short but intense stare-down prior to Robbo allowing Chellios to pat him down – even though this is no disqualification, so there’s no need for that?) raises the REBEL World title for all to see, particularly the main camera positioned far back in the stadium with a centre focus for viewers at home.

A dinging bell cues the beginning, and so both Robinsons lock up for a short-lived test of strength that Phoenix transitions into a wristlock, but one toe-kick to Robrob’s gut breaks that. When Robbo went forward to grab Phoenix, the World Champ thrusts his right shoulder into Robbo’s gut, lifts him and tries to drop him for an over-the-shoulder belly-to-back piledriver, but fortunately for Robbo fans, Sean slipped off. Rolling onto his knees, Sean sees an incoming dropkick in the nick of time, so bends backward for Phoenix to miss and fall onto his side. Robbo quickly applies a modified abdominal stretch with his right knee constantly digging into Phoenix’s backside. Having to twist his body so his arm would be free from an entrapment under his ribs but also allowing Robbo’s hold to become a firm crucifix armbar, Phoenix rolled Robinson into a shortcut schoolboy that did manage a one count, but Robbo flipped the whole thing spectacularly into an arm-trap crossface!!

Using his legs to push against the canvas, Phoenix once more rolls Sean into a schoolboy but instead of actually pinning, Phoenix impressively lifts Robbo with the single-arm entrapped inside a crucifix to sickeningly slam Robbo against his bent knee! Of course, the knee ‘merely’ struck the lower backside of Robbo, but this position also forced Robbo’s neck to take devastating impact against the canvas. Temporarily unable to think clearly, Robbo is forced to endure a sharp jumping knee drop to the abdomen, followed by a beautiful execution of the sharpshooter. It’s in this evidently painful submission (teeth clenched, nostrils flare and eyes shut tight are few of Sean’s indicative facial expressions) where Sean reacts smartly by pushing himself off the canvas and crawl via elbows to the ropes ever so gradually but accomplishes his mission to pull himself over the bottom rope, grab a crowbar lying underneath the ring (for some reason) and swing behind him to tap Phoenix in the shoulder.

Afraid of the next swing being stronger, Phoenix releases his hold, allowing Robbo to spill out of the ring and onto the ground below. Soon after on his feet, Robbo narrowly dodges a baseball slide, and so grabs Phoenix’s legs to drag him out of the ring, but Phoenix grabs the ropes to prevent himself from completely leaving. This only exposes Phoenix’s gut for Robbo to punch several times and then inverted atomic drop Phoenix before being shoved back inside the ring. Pulled onto his feet, Phoenix is whipped across the ring and crashes back-first against a turnbuckle. The space between both is long enough for Robbo to charge all rhinoceros-like but opts out of that cliché to let Robbo regain his balance and swiftly come after him. What follows is a series of hip-tosses, arm drags, some more armbars, but Phoenix’s release belly-to-belly suplex plants Sean for Robrob to capitalize stylishly by means of a rolling moonsault! Two count only, however.

Taken back to both standing, this is only for Robrob to utilize well a combination of arm-trap neckbreaker into a jumping senton, and when Robrob fell atop Sean’s stomach, he swiftly rolled onto his knees, took hold of Sean’s ankle to immediately apply an inverted cloverleaf that also prompted Sean to once again repeat his push up and crawl toward ropes. Unlike previously, Phoenix awesomely kicks Sean in the throat while the submission is intact, causing Sean to plant face-first onto the canvas!! Price of that outstanding prevention is Robrob’s grip loosened, so he dropped Robbo’s legs altogether. Instead of retrying for it again, Phoenix allows Sean to escape to the outside but quickly slingshots over-the-top for a crossbody that mostly hits the left side of Sean, therefore pushing Sean against the cell wall hard while Phoenix lands sideways.

Sure, Sean staggered for a little but this brought Robbo offensive control, which he smartly seized fast through an overhead gutwrench backbreaker rack flipped into a piledriver on the fucking concrete!!!

REBEL Fans: THIS IS INCEST! THIS IS INCEST! THIS IS INCEST!

Larry Gordon: Why are they chanting that?

Rumors abound say a leaked sextape of Sean Robinson fucking his sister is on the internet, though nobody can tell if it’s really him due to predictably funky camera angles, and it’s also an inappropriate play on Robbo’s self-accepted “THIS IS WRESTLING” catchphrase, given tonight’s context. Anyway, as Phoenix laid badly dazed and likely injured on the ground, Robbo grabbed steel steps and returned to slam it against Phoenix’s chest/head, climb onto the top turnbuckle and dove off to double foot stomp the steps; likely crushing Phoenix’s skull inward!!!! Oh god, he didn’t! Somehow Phoenix is only bleeding from the nose. He must have blocked most of the impact with his hands.

Needing to pin Phoenix inside the ring, Robinson brings Phoenix upward but the World champ brought a sneaky uppercut along with him. Next, a powerful Irish whip forced Sean to be thrown into a cell wall so harshly, he drops onto his ass and grabs his head in pain. To worsen things, Phoenix throws the steel steps at Robinson, who luckily catches it before it could hurt him terribly, but unfortunately before he could move it away, Phoenix’s running dropkick cruelly smashes the steps into Sean’s face, breaking the challenger’s nose!

A large section of the crowd: P Dub A! P Dub A! P Dub A!
Most fans: FUCK YOU, ROB-ROB! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP* FUCK YOU, ROB-ROB!
Few fans: THIS IS PANTHEON! THIS IS PANTHEON! THIS IS PANTHEON!

Apparently careless to return to the ring, The Phoenix demands for the cage door to be opened, and Referee John Chellios does so despite his duty obligating him to keep that shit locked! But, this is John Chellios, who does things by his way and he doesn’t give a damn what anyone else has to say because he’s from the rough streets of Sydney where he developed a background in amateur boxing and once saved his brother from a gang of smelly aussies (no offense, macca), but I digress. Guiding a senseless Sean Robinson by the nape of his neck like a bad dog toward the Spanish commentators’ table, The Phoenix occasionally stops to punch the challenger multiple times to keep him in check. Once they approach us, Phoenix lifts and muscles buster Robinson onto the small monitor on the Spanish table!! FUCK! Guys, you don’t understand how fucking messed that is. Our tables aren’t flimsy like most other wrestling promotion’s tables are. It takes a lot to bring these suckers down, so I imagine it wouldn’t feel good at all being slammed on them. Surprised by the tables’ refusal to break, Phoenix leaves Sean Robinson to awkwardly lie across it so.. so he can climb the Hell in a Cell!!! Oh dear, we knew this would happen. But what is he doing? Why is he going up there??

NO! PHOENIX, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! DON’T CONSIDER THIS! IT’S INSANE! IT’S INHUMAN! IT’S DEADLY!

The Phoenix is positioning himself for an immensely high-angled, top-of-the-cell elbow drop that would surely cave in Sean’s chest and certainly end the career of them both!! AH HE’S GONNA – Oh he stopped just before the big leap! Oh, good! He stopped because Sean Robinson is stirring and moved off the table. Thank goodness. Christ, that’d have been sick. Not even REBEL Pro could have handled that extremity.

Halfway up the cage wall, Sean is more than ever noticeably frail but somehow pushes forward to join Phoenix at the top, who had quite the rest. Fans quieted down a lot in preparation for how this bout continues. When Phoenix approaches Robinson, Sean suddenly uppercuts Phoenix’s crotch, which garners a gasp from the crowd as Phoenix falls OFF THE CAGE!!!! NO!! HOLY SHIT! By the ankle, Sean caught Phoenix! Sean Robinson has saved Rob Robinson from doom!

Larry Gordon: Likely so death doesn’t cause the match’s end.

You may be right, but that’s fucking heroic. That’s really humane of Sean to do. A fall off this 17 foot high beast would have an Owen Hart vibe. Also, how the FUCK is Sean Robinson strong enough to pull Phoenix back onto the cell’s roof??? That’s amazing. I’m in rambling awe. Safely next to an exhausted Sean Robinson, The Phoenix rewards his ‘savior’ with courtesy of rest. As the standing Phoenix awaits for Robbo to stand as well, Phoenix says aloud, “take your time.” But Robbo gets to his feet quicker, wanting to meet Phoenix face-to-face once more. Although his desire is met, Robbo cannot properly exchange a dramatic ‘Rock versus Austin’ sequence of punches as a spot like this would usually call for. So, with Robbo collapsing onto a knee from exhaustion, Phoenix nastily knees Robbo in his bloodied face (steel step spot broke his nose, remember?) and performs a hat-trick of 5 back-to-back snap suplexes that dent several areas across the roof of the cell!!

Larry Gordon: Phoenix ought to be careful about that. He could accidentally send them both to a death!

Precisely stopping after the fifth snap suplex lands, Phoenix stands and sees Robbo terribly struggle to even move an inch.

The Phoenix: Take your time.

I can’t tell if he’s being smug now from this camera angle. Assisting Robbo onto his feet by the nape of his neck, Phoenix walks Robbo over to the edge of the cage.

The Phoenix: Take your time.

OH MY EGBAHKBDJBQWFBKJbakjdbcKJDCBsdkvc

PHOENIX THREW ROBINSON OFF THE CAGE! HE FELL 10 FEET! YES, ONLY 10 FEET! YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE ROBBO GRABBED ONTO THE CELL WALL WITH ONE HAND, WHICH HE PROBABLY FUCKING DISLOCATED NOW JUDGING BY HIS HORRID YELP!

A huge mixed reaction occurs. Some chant Robbo’s name more passionately serious than before. Others sing the praise of this being wrestling. Most, however, are shocked by the graphic nature of this match.

Pushing himself up the cage by his feet and using his right arm to climb back to the top while favoring his left arm, with tears in his eyes, Sean Robinson finally makes it back to the top. The Phoenix golf claps for him.

The Phoenix: Well, well, well.

Spitting in Robbo’s face upon arrival, The Phoenix then kicks twice the injured arm of Sean

to be a fucking cunt.

The Phoenix: This is wrestling.

Says Phoenix after forcing the delicate Robbo over to one of the dented spots in the roof, and then underhooks both arms to place Robbo in a familiar pedigree setup, goes to lift, but right then, the dent area slightly gives way thanks to their combined weight! Slipping his leg through the hole, Phoenix is caught off guard, and all Hollywood-flick-like, Robbo reverses by swinging a mad headbutt at Phoenix, blasting him rather super cool!! Dazed by that, Phoenix is easily brought between Sean Robinson’s legs. Doing his best Gerard Butler,

Sean Robinson: “THIS. IS. WRESTLING!”

Lifting Phoenix skyward, the area they stand on collapses, and perfectly (very fucking dreamlike for any wrestling fan) Sean Robinson brings The Phoenix down onto his neck/shoulder blades for THE GREATEST TIGER DRIVER 91 THAT CAN EVER BEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! 17 FEET DROP!!!

Larry Gordon: HE KILLED HIM! ROBBO KILLED ROBROB! AS GOD AS MY WITNESS, SHIT JUST GOT REAL!

Do I really need to acknowledge the crazy reaction from these fans? I shouldn’t have to point how the overwhelming markage, the insane emotion, the chilling moment is; the fact REBEL Pro has just put on the greatest Hell in a Cell match possible, and these fans are bewildered*! Take that, Dome of Awfulness!

Bewildered by the fact The Phoenix did not die from that. His chest is pumping, his eyes are open (along with his mouth) but he’s not moving other than by breathing. As The Phoenix lies against the canvas, Sean Robinson can no longer stand. He has to fucking crawl on his stomach, like a baby. His knees will likely never be the same. A bloody Sean Robinson has tears streaming down his face, overcome with intense emotion as he lays his arm across The Phoenix’s chest. Sean Robinson’s moment – the very thing he lives for – is a mere three counts away! Come on, John Chellios! Count the damn pin! 1.

2.

3!

“Amazing (Heartbeats Remix)” roars loud as can be as Paul Alba hurriedly grabs the REBEL Pro World Heavyweight Championship (he, too, crying tears of joy) and enters through the cell door to present Sean “The Undisputed” Robinson with the championship he unquestionably deserves! Again, Sean cannot sit up, quite possibly due to the immense pain he looks to be suffering, but even though Robinson lays on his back, the close-up camera angle from the rafters shows him hugging his World Championship with not only tears sliding down his face but a huge, bloody grin.

Still, the Phoenix hasn’t moved. I don’t think he can move.

Larry Gordon: LOOK!

Three hooded robed, black masked men of different sizes rush down the rampway but Sean Robinson is oblivious. Paul Alba is not. In fact, tearing a page from Robbo’s book, Paul Alba tries to be heroic by defending Robbo from these mysterious attackers! Well…

Larry Gordon: PAUL ALBA JUST WALKED INTO AN F5! F5 TO PAUL ALBA!

That heroism didn’t pan out well. =( Now the three men are stomping a mud hole into Sean Robinson!

Larry Gordon: Look at the ramp!

It’s a hobo! And a pretentious, oddly wealthy Mexican! It’s the rest of Wrestling’s Undisputed! Here they come to save the daaaaay! When the newly crowned Undisputed REBEL Tag Champions clash with the unknown, hooded figures, it’s the masked guys that beat the shit out of Deicide and Salazar! God, the tag champions are being overwhelmed.

Larry Gordon: It’s the numbers game.

Also because all of Wrestling’s Undisputed had crazy, hard-fought battles tonight. They’re in no damn shape to fight off these people! One of them has laid out Deicide with a Double A flavored spinebuster. Salazar suffers from a GORE GORE GORE by another! Robbo has it worse: figure-four leglock that maximizes the pain in his legs!! As that fucked up submission is in play, the two remaining masked men stomp on Sean’s chest to really lay into him. Security comes pouring down the ramp as the Phoenix finally is able to stand, albeit appearing incredibly weak, but still strong enough to drop an elbow onto Robbo’s chest.

Wait, wait, wait. We’re not over quite yet. Fade back in to that horrible championship aftermath.

That’s it. Now you see that ring, right? That ring in which one Phoenix is standing and the other Sean is knocked the fuck out? Hear the Canadians going batshit crazy? See the balloons and streamers floating about? Well, consider this part a pay-per-view extra. The party is continuing as it really shouldn’t but cialis 30 day reviews does regardless. The champ’s fucked, the world’s mad, the Kalis’ are happy because screw it, they’re making money. Champagne would be flying everywhere but now people are depressed. Blah blah blah. It’s insanity.

Well, ladies and gents, it’s about to get worse.

From the ramp, PuppetVirus, and PuppetSimon arrive with a good fuckton of soldiers at their disposal on foot. Without warning, the forces charge towards the ring with a feverous rush. The jobber minions of He Who Must Not Be Sane quickly spring into action by sliding out of the ring ready to defend themselves. When the PuppetBrigade seems like they’re winning, the Justin Case fans jump the damn barricade and start aiding those shadowy types. It’s a furious battle that the Puppets are starting to lose. Phoenix scratches his chin wondering exactly what the hell is going on.

But just when hope seems lost for our puffed up army, the house lights brighten forcing the people in and around the ring to squint their eyes. Shadowy figures show up in the stairwells and in the stands. They are riding high and tall on their various steeds. Some are short and fluffy. Others big and burly. But with enough squinting, Linzi Martin spots the leader of the pack.

“Anna…”

Indeed, from a side entrance, Anna sits on a steroid-filled moose named Travolta. Her white robes seem to rustle as she twirls her old stick. The puppets are geared for one hell of a melee, wielding guns, samurai swords, microphones, and at least one magic wand. PuppetLisa sits on MuppetChutulu, impatient as all hell and screaming random obscenities to the crowd. The second wave of cake-fed henchmen sit on their horses impassively. The Dodo Queen stops twirling her staff and yells out something.

“Tempus frangit, motherfuckaz!”

And just as quickly, all hell breaks loose as the whole damn group comes from every damn direction possible. The lights are still bright enough to fry an egg so the already brain dead Case fan club can’t see that her particular group are heading right towards them. But the time they realize it, they are already trampled, tentacle raped, and forced into hobbling for their lives. PuppetLiza apologizes profusely as her bunny rabbit hops along without a care in the world. As for the fans that can actually move out of the way? Those cheers and screams are going make your ears hurt. Rob-Rob’s group fight valiantly, but at the end, they’re forced into running also. Everything is at a standstill as the mass of human-plushmanity looks at the only thing that’s left: the ring and the last remnants of the Underground. Johnny Maverick appears on his own four-legged friend as Anna looks towards him.

“Yoor late!”

“Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Recking stuff. Wanna come?”

“Why?”

Headtilt. “Doo wii honestlee kneed a reason?”

A million thoughts seem to whiz by his brain before he ultimately shrugs. With a Rebel yell, she cried more, more, more and the gathering begins to stampede down the ramp. Now would be a great time for everybody to abandon ship. I mean, getting blown up is one thing. Getting mangled by hooves and AK shots and misfired magic is another. With no more people left to fight, the whole damn army just says ‘screw it’and charges anyway. The might of many causes the squared circle the be push back a few feet before ultimately collapsing under the strain. Anna raises her walking stick high to everybody’s enjoyment as this PPV…finally…dies. Happy new year, morons.

QUICK RESULTS

The Uproars defeat Might & Magic
Jaice Wilds defeats Mike Majere
Jake Norton and Reece Jackson draw.
Allen Chaney defeats Fine Wine winning the NOC Trophy
Wrestling’s Undisputed defeat the KKK, becoming RPW’s Undisputed World Tag Team Champs
Justin Case defeats Anna Mathews, becoming the new Aggression Champion!
Sean Robinson defeats The Phoenix, becoming the new REBEL Pro World Champion!