November 11th, 2012

On the REBEL PRO Titan Tron we come to see a concert of some sort. Hearing a voice singing we pan inward upon the stage, in front of thousands of people. None other than the English reality star Susan Boyle, can be seen.

She proceeds with the ending of her encore performance just coming to a close.

Thats when we switch to the backstage area of Susan Boyle’s international tour. She walks up to her dressing room with a note on her door. She reads it a loud.

” Dear Susan Boyle,

It is with great regard that I, Justin Case, have come to realize that you are my biggest fan and number one supporter. And it is with great thanks that as a reward for being so supportive that you will be given a ticket to next weeks show to watch “The Chosen One” go one on one with Jake Norton! If you so choose to, you will be flown to a special recording of “SUPER AGGRESSION: Misgivings 2012!” in Las Vegas, Nevada. As then you will be escorted to the arena in which you will have a front row seat to watch some REBEL PRO action! All expenses will be paid for in full by yours truly. I hope you except. And I will see you soon.

PS You are truly a talent with every part of your being. With a voice no one can ever try repeating.”

Susan Boyle is then seen all smiles.

I Can Haz Promo?

Simon finishes lacing his boots as we fade in backstage to his office. Maya is skipping rope to get herself pumped, blasting “Gangnam Style” like an awful cunt that she truly is. Simon sits back, lighting a cigarette and closing his eye. That’s when-

Adrian Kalis: So what’re you thinking, old man? Putting yourself in a title match?

Simon Kalis: Honestly Adrian, don’t you have anything better to do than questioning my every move?

Adrian Kalis: Well with TGW basically on hiatus, no. I don’t.

He cracks a grin.

Adrian Kalis: And here everything was going so well. So who’re you gonna have help you win a REBEL Pro title this time?

Simon Kalis: I can beat Johnny Maverick. I’ve always beaten Johnny Maverick, put his ass on the shelf multiple times. And sure it’ll be a shame to do it again but I’m going to do it the same way I did it last time. Besides… I never lost the REBEL Pro Tag Team titles. By right, I can claim them back. We were unceremoniously stripped of everything we bled for. It’s time to remind people what we’re capable of.

Simon stands up and stomps his foot.

Simon Kalis: JEREMY!!!!

Gold jumps up and hoists up a duffle bag fearfully.

Simon Kalis: It’s time, old friend.

Gold drops the duffle bag, clearly too heavy for himself. Maya is taking a break eating some pizza pockets and just casually not giving a fuck about the madness going on about her. Gold pulls out the first piece of… a thing out from the duffle bag and brings it over to Simon.

Adrian Kalis: You’re kidding.

Jeremy straps the plate armor over Simons head, slipping it over Simon and then locking it together at the ribs. Simon smiles, finishing his cigarette as Gold presents him with a steel helmet. It is bare of any special designs, as is the chest armor. Save for the fact it has a small area for Simon to see from his only good eye, and the formation of rubies around it shine crimson in the light. Gold has a second duffle bag under the couch in Simon’s office, where he pulls out a shield with The Order of Chaos skull emblem emblazoned over it. Finally, he hands Simon a barbed wire baseball bat that seems to have been cut in half halfway into it, leaving splinters long, sharp and thick at the end. Maya drops a pizza pocket out of her hand as Simon turns to face Adrian, banging his sawed off barbed wire baseball bat against his steel OoC shield.

Simon Kalis: Niggas know I don’t fuck around.

Simon leans in to Adrian.

Simon Kalis: Besides, would you rather sit out your time waiting for TGW to get back into gear? Why don’t you go save the PWA, God knows they need it. Or is it you’re scared of a white girl?

Maya: Ohhh shit!

Maya snaps her fingers in front of Adrian and laughs, yet Adrian maintains a forced smile.

Adrian Kalis: You have the wrong offspring on your team tonight. Remember that, old man…

Adrian shoves his way past Simon and leaves. Simon however taps his shield again and then points to the door.

Simon Kalis: This shit is hot in here. Let’s get this done with.

Maya: Great speech dad.

Kalis bows as we fade.

Fuck

He sits up. He yawns. A few years ago he would have been waking up with a hangover. There would have been a pile of bottles, drug paraphernalia, and nude people in his room but no. Today his apartment is DC is clean of all evidence of vice save for a few longboxes of comics, crates of records, and an attractive lady sleeping next to him who he had made clear to the night before that this was just a one night thing. And hey! Johnny remembered her name! And it’s 8 AM and he hasn’t kicked her out! MUCH different from Johnny two years ago. Johnny didn’t like that Johnny. Johnny a year ago was a guy he THOUGHT he liked but he was apparently the kind of guy who got cheated on so he must have been doing SOMETHING wrong. It might have been karma, for all of the women whose names he didnt remember. Every woman he had woken up and told ‘Make like a tree and be outside of my house’. He couldn’t go back to that way of life, it would have been easy though. However, devoting himself to one person had never worked out to well in the past, either. The first one got into the ring before she was ready and got hurt. Bad. She became so afraid of Johnny she got as far away from him as she could. Another he had devoted himself to so fully, so entirely that it nearly destroyed him when she betrayed him. The other…well…we’ll get to her. He could never be that low-life who treated women like penis recepticles ever again, but he also couldnt see himself ever investing in any one woman emotionally ever again out of fear.

“Hey Mandy…uh. Let’s go get some breakfast then I can take you home.”

It didn’t hurt to try and find some middle ground there.

———————————————————————–

“Someone asked me how much longer I really thought i’d be doing this.”

Johnny is standing in front of his recently re-opened record store in a ‘Circle Jerks’ T-shirt, Hoodie Ninja hoodie, torn jeans, and a pair of red Chuck Taylors.

“It’s a question I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately. Yeah, seemingly my career is in a bit of a slump. The tag team is going okay but as far as singles competition? Johnny Maverick is nearly a non-entity. He’s not on anyones radar and he may as well have stayed dead, for all he has accomplished. He’s had a good run. It’s probably time for him to step down and let the next guy have a turn.”

Johnny cracks open his bottled water.

“So how much longer am I going to be doing this? As long as there is breath in me. As long as I have the ability to stand up and face all of the people who tell me I can’t or that I’m not good enough and raise a pair of defiant middle fingers. Fuck you, I can. Fuck you, I am. Fuck you, Fuck everyone like you, Fuck their mothers, pets, mailmen, and anything with a fuckable orifice even slightly related to them. I will get my Filth and my Fury back or I will die trying.”

He takes a sip.

“Good fortune has given me a few things this week that should afford me that chance. I still have an amazing tag partner and I we have a chance to prove ourselves against the best. Well, someone who will tell you for DAYS that he is the best. That is, if his face is un-fucked up enough that he is able to speak this week. That seems to be a re-occuring theme with you Simon. You act like an all-powerful deity. Someone fucks you up. You learn absolutely no lesson from it. You come back and pull the same shit, then get fucked up once more. Lather, rinse, repeat. I’m not going to be the kind of guy who says ‘I’m gonna be the one to teach you a lesson’ because A. I honestly don’t have that much of a problem with you right now and B. We both know that’s a lesson you aren’t going to learn. I often find myself envious of Simon Kalis, but in the same way I am envious of autistic children. I’m envious of their ability to block out reality. If I could unironically stand in front of a television camera and tell the world I am a formerly caucasian militaristic bazillionaire gang leader somehow connected to the government and lived every day of my life like a Grand Theft Auto mission as designed by a 14-year-old on acid and believed every word out of my mouth was gospel then I would do it everyday. It turns out though that I am just a man with a set of skills conducive to competitive combat. Unlike many others in the locker room I am not out to embarass Simon or ruin his life or kiss his ass. I am here to beat him. I think that’s something I’m capable of, so yeah. I know he’s capable of beating me too, but time hasn’t been kind to Simon physically. Me? I’m just fine. Got both eyes, haven’t had anyone try and fuck my face up so bad I can’t speak. Never had a gun fired at me once.”

Johnny shrugs and has al ot more of his water. Damn that’s some good water.

“And after Simon gives his whole schpiel, viewers will get what they really came to see. A nice shot of Mayas lovely perky tits. On a professional note Maya, I’m absolutely itching for this chance to get that win back from you after we last fought. On a personal note I’d like to remind you that I am single now, you have my number, and Mr. Pokey misses you. Just like old times, our jobs not done til we’ve ruined the sheets only this time they won’t be your fathers. You beat me, and I acknowledge that victory and commend you on it. I also want you to know it’s not something I intend on letting happen again. My partner and I have had our names dragged through the mud lately and I think both of us are starting to get a little sick of it. A part of me is always going to love you Maya, but when we step in that ring you had better have something more than your tits to show me or I am going to leave you as I have left you so many nights before; Breathless, drenched in sweat, and on your back. You’re not going to get in my head like last time, you aren’t going to distract me with your sexuality, you are going to have to sweep up what is left of your father and come out there and outwrestle me Maya. That doesn’t bode well for you. Anna and I feed off of controversy but there isn’t going to be any this week. One of you is gonna get pinned or tap out, and Anna and I are going to get your respect. That is the only way I am going to let this play out. I don’t know why Maya and Simon are gunning for the tag titles, maybe he want s to assure everyone of his dominance in REBEL Pro. He wants to win those belts to show the UX’ers that REBEL is his baby and no one is gonna fuck with it, and in the end he’ll be singin that old Ramones song.”

Johnny finishes his water. Drinking water is the thing he did in this promo that I used to break up the paragraphs.

“The KKK Took My Baby Away.”

Johnny tosses his empty water bottle in the trash and heads inside his shop before we fade to black.

REBEL Pro Tag Team Championship Match!

The KKK versus Simon and Maya Kalis

Jenny Jersey: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the VACANT REBEL Pro Tag Team Championships! Introducing first!

“This World Ain’t Big Enough For The Both of Us” by Sparks hits as Anna Mathews appears on the stage, and the fans here at the Underground Arena in Las Vegas give her a huge pop.

Jenny Jersey: She is the reigning REBEL Pro Aggression Champion and one half of Kontroversy Kreates Kake! ANNA MATHEWS!!!

Anna runs down the ring, cheery and happy as always slapping hands with fans as she slides in and raises her shiny Agg title in the air.

Jenny Jersey: And her partner! He is a certified REBEL Pro Legend!

“Lead Into Demise” hits as Johnny Maverick steps out, the crowd cheering for him strong.

Jenny Jersey: He is JOHNNY MAVERICK!!!

Johnny enters the ring now and high fives Anna, both of them turning to the entrance ramp.

Jenny Jersey: And their opponents!

“The Rains of Castamere” by White Noise Lab hits and this crowd here in Las Vegas, many who only a few weeks ago were here watching Underground X recognize these two much easier…

Larry Gordon: Oh Lord he isn’t…

Linzi Martin: They are.

The crowd goes nuts as a they emerge on a large, black Shire horse. Simon is in front, while his daughter Maya holds onto him by the waist behind him on the large beast. Johnny and Anna smirk, as Simon waves his weapon arm in the air toward the crowd.

Jenny Jersey: He is the acting President of REBEL Pro, and she is his lovely daughter! The ever talented, Simon and Maya Kalis!

Larry Gordon: Hopefully he won’t slit the horses throat when he gets to the ring.

They trot forward slowly, circling the ring and giving the fans a chance to pass their hands over the Shire horses muscular frame before Simon dismounts and then helps Maya down. Simon is still decked out in his steel armor above the waist, and he climbs the steel steps while Maya slides into the ring. A duo of professionally trained handlers come out and lead the horse backstage. Referee Alan Stone raises the REBEL Pro Tag Team titles in the air for all to see before handing them off at ringside. Simon bows before Anna and Johnny respectfully, before hoisting his shield up forward with his sawed off barbed wire bat aimed for Anna Mathews. Maya blows them both kisses, with an extra wink for Johnny Maverick.

DING DING DING

Maya and Johnny immediately lock up, and a power struggle ensues but quickly ends with Johnny hip tossing Maya to the canvas. Simon swings his fucked up bat at Anna, who instinctively begins dodging the attacks. She bounces off the ropes and goes for a dropkick but Simon lifts his shield up and literally swats her down and away, and even though he stumbles back he does not fall. It leaves Anna open for Simon to swing downward at her with his unorthodox bat but she rolls away and the bat rips a part of the canvas off as Simon brings the weapon back up. Maya is on her feet and charges Johnny but he ducks her clothesline attempt, and then hits a spinning heel kick as Maya moves forward and hits her in the back of the head sending her right back down to the canvas.

Larry Gordon: Ahhh. I missed this. A TRUE REBEL Pro Tag Team match. Tornado tag rules as a standard, and of course the usual fair of no other rules to speak of practically.

Linzi Martin: Johnny giving it to Maya and Anna is dodging Simons attacks well.

Simon encroaches on Anna and spreads his arms out, his shield in the left hand and his bat in the right. He seemingly begs Anna to come at him and she does, going for a baseball slide to take Simon out at his exposed legs but Simon hops over her, spins around and shield bashes her into the canvas for her troubles. Repeatedly Simon smashes the center curve of his shield into Anna Mathews face until she’s busted open and bleeding all over the canvas. Johnny Maverick meanwhile snap suplexes his ex-fiance right back into the canvas and goes for a cover.

1!

T- Maya kicks out easily.

Simon taps his bat on the canvas, yelling at Anna to get back up. She does and as Simon charges she grabs onto the top rope and pulls down with all her weight, sending Simon and all that armor over the top rope and onto the outside. The crowd is loving it. Anna hops up onto the top rope and Simons no longer holding onto his shield or his bat. He pulls himself up, only to meet a huge missile dropkick from Anna Mathews sending him onto the steel entrance ramp. Maya finally dodges an errant elbow from Johnny and hits him with a spinning heel kick of her own. She clenches her fists and begins cracking Johnny hard in the face with a quick flurry of lefts and rights. Johnny stumbles into the corner turnbuckles and Anna grabs Simons shield and begins bashing him at the neck just where there is a slight opening. Simon immediately chokes and Anna drops the shield and rips his helmet off. She throws it into the front row to a young boy who’s pretty happy to have it. Was a piece of shit anyways.

Larry Gordon: I feel like this is half a wrestling match, and half a fight you’d see at a boss level in a video game.

Linzi Martin: That turns me on.

Anna grabs the bat now and takes a crack at Simons face but doing so from his right side and not the left gives him a chance to counter, and so he puts his arms up to save his face but the flesh on his arms get ripped up from the barbed wire. Anna lunges with the bat, using the sawed off end with the large thick splinters as a spear and begins stabbing at Simon. He manages to roll around on the entrance ramp and takes the blows with his plate armor over his chest. Anna’s lunging at him so hard and furiously the splintered wood cracks and breaks all over Simons armored chest. Maya low blows Johnny in the ring and then makes a run to save her silly old father, leaping over the top rope and to the outside before jumping on Anna Mathews back and wrapping her legs and arms around the Aggression Champion. The crowd cheers wildly as Anna staggers around with Maya on her back, and Maya trying to choke Anna out. Simon gets to his feet and lifts his shield and bat back up but Johnny is also back up. Simon looks up into the ring at Johnny, and the two exchange some heated words as Jeremy Gold comes running to ringside from backstage. Anna Mathews throws herself backwards into the guard rails and crushes Maya between herself and the rails. Maya crumples down behind her, and Anna lays slouched trying to catch her breath. Jeremy Gold has a gas canister in one hand, and a pack of cigarettes in the other.

Linzi Martin: Johnny knows what’s coming.

Larry Gordon: Any diehard REBEL fan knows.

Jeremy hands Simon the cigarettes, as Anna and Maya gingerly begin crawling away from each other. Simon pops a cigarette into his mouth as Jeremy pours gasoline all over his sawed off barb wire baseball bat. Jeremy pulls out a lighter and the bat ignites in a gush of flames and the fans at ringside go nuts. Simon lights his cigarette with his now flaming sawed off barb wire baseball bat and climbs the steel steps, placing the flames to the ropes and instead of climbing into the ring through the ropes, Simon waits for them to snap one by one under the flames. Anna goes under the ring as Simon yells at Jeremy to run backstage. Maya gets up and jumps up onto the apron at one end behind Johnny. Anna however surfaces on the other side and she throws Johnny a metal garbage can lid and a lead pipe. Johnny lifts up the garbage can lid but kicks the lead pipe back to Anna, tapping a certain patriotic tattoo and all the marks in the arena go nuts. Maya jumps down and goes under the ring herself as Anna hops up onto the apron with the lead pipe in hand.

Linzi Martin: LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!

Simon charges at Johnny, swinging his flaming bat at Johnny who blocks it with his own shield now all the while still smoking his cigarette. Anna comes in and swings the pipe, Simon drops to a knee and puts his shield up to block the attack. Another puff. He swings again at Johnny, this time at Johnny’s legs but Johnny jumps up over the flames and brings his shield crashing down on Simon’s head but Simon holds onto that cigarette in his mouth. Simon stumbles back and Anna lunges with her lead pipe, Simon blocks with his flaming bat and now just in the nick of time Maya rolls into the ring with a large purple dildo, GTA STYLE BITCHES! She smacks Anna hard in the back of the head with it, sending Anna down. Johnny spins, raises his shield and the dildo indents it and pushes him back. But Johnny shoots the shield out and the metal trash lid cracks Maya in the throat. She coughs, chokes and stumbles back and Johnny rushes at her- THE TONY JAA!!! Maya is down and Johnny pins.

1!

2!!

THR-SIMON BRINGS HIS FLAMING BARB WIRE FUCKBAT DOWN OVER JOHNNY’S HEAD BREAKING THE COUNT!

But there’s Anna Mathews and she bounces off the ropes as Simon gets to his feet, BOOMERFLY KICK! That fucking cigarette drops! The shield drops! The flaming bat drops! BUT Simon goes flying out over the top rope from the impact and back to the outside. Johnny covers Maya again!

1!

2!!

3-FOOT ON THE ROPES!

Larry Gordon: Surprised to see Maya had the awareness to do that.

Linzi Martin: I thought REBEL Pro doesn’t have rope breaks?

Larry Gordon: Actually Linzi, if you look at the REBEL Pro rules the referee won’t stop a submission even if the person being hurt is holding onto the ropes but nor will the ref count a pin or submission in rope break.

Johnny pulls Maya into the middle of the ring as Anna slides out of the ring to finish off Simon, but it’s then the crowd goes apeshit as Adrian Kalis comes out from backstage, Benjamin Dyce behind him waving a very large orange flag.

Larry Gordon: Of course. The goon squad. That stupid Orange Revolution was nothing more than another front for The Order of Chaos.

Anna steps back from Simon who sits up. Adrian helps Simon to his feet and holds him up. Simon wipes his face and then smiles, turning that smile to Anna. Of course, that smile is quickly gone as Adrian pushes Simons head down and lifts his knee up and cracks Simon across the face. Simon stumbles back, and Adrian hits a thrust kick straight into Simon’s armor plated chest and it sends Simon down to the ground. Anna looks shocked as Adrian begins stomping down on Simon while Benjamin Dyce places the flag pole down at the ring post. Johnny is now watching, while Maya goes behind him and rolls him up, throwing in an extra grab to his crotch for the old times.

1!

Larry Gordon: What in the world is going on?!

2!!

Anna slides back into the ring, ignoring Adrian’s beatdown of Simon buuuut!

THR-KICK OUT! JOHNNY KICKS OUT!

Anna rushes Maya and cracks her over the head with that lead pipe, Maya is busted open. Benjamin Dyce turns around and crosses his arms, looking down at his feet. Adrian lifts Simon up and hits the MasaDriver! The crowd is cheering! The crowd is booing! Everyone is confused as fuck! Maya is on her knees and Johnny approaches her. He lifts her up and gives her a quick hug before flipping it into ANOTHER BODY MURDERED! On the outside of the ring, Adrian and Benjamin Dyce wrap Simon in their large orange flag from head to toe.

Johnny covers Maya again!

1!

2!!

3!!!

DING DING DING!!!!

Jenny Jersey: The winners of this match and NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW REBEL Pro World Tag Team Champions! Johnny Maverick and Anna Mathews! KONTROVERSY! KREATES! KAKE!

Alan Stone hands them the tag team titles, and Anna gets her Aggression Championship as well. Benjamin Dyce rushes to Maya and pulls her out of the ring and into her arms as Adrian relentlessly stomps on Simon’s face. Benjamin Dyce rushes with Maya, limp in his arms for help as The KKK watches on with their guard up but good smirks cracking over their faces. Adrian walks away without looking back, and with his exit Anna and Johnny high five and raise their titles high.

Linzi Martin: What in the…

Larry Gordon: I’m sure we’ll find out what that was about. But what’s really important right now is this great tag team of Johnny and Anna, and their success in capturing the REBEL Pro Tag team titles.

Linzi Martin: Also, there’s one side of the ring with now ruined ropes. Someone should probably fix that.

Aftermath

Anna and Johnny have now disappeared backstage, while EMT’s uncover Simon from the orange flag. His face is badly beaten and swollen as they help him to his feet, meanwhile the ring crew works on replacing one side of ropes that were burned during the last match.

Linzi Martin: I’m sure you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

Simon throws his metal plate armor off and stumbles forward, wiping the blood from his face.

Larry Gordon: Seeing Simon get hurt doesn’t bother me, no.

Simon begins blindly running up the entrance ramp and the view switches to a camera crew following Adrian who’s already on his way out of the arena. Raj Bindaloo, our intrepid young foreign reporter chases after Adrian but his asthma prevents him from ever really catching up to him. That and he ran into the closing parking lot door. Quickly however this changes as Simon bursts through the door. Adrian stops at his vehicle to light a cigarette as Simon maintains a brisk pace.

Simon Kalis: What the fuck was that?

Adrian turns and blows smoke into Simon’s face.

Adrian Kalis: You put yourself into a title match of your own company.

Adrian scoffs.

Adrian Kalis: Again. And I helped you last time but I wasn’t going to see you sneak your way into more bullshit.

Simon wipes the blood from his lip and begins to smile.

Simon Kalis: You think you can do better? Why don’t you run REBEL Pro next week, let me know how it goes.

Kalis turns around, spitting blood and walking away.

Simon Kalis: I’m gonna need a fucking vacation.

Adrian leans against his car and exhales more smoke, and we’re pretty sure the ring is good to go SO!!!!

REBEL Pro Contract Invitational!

Already in the ring are three fresh-faced rookies. ‘Rosemarys Baby’ by Fantomas begins to play and Umbra slowly walks to the ring, dragging a Teddy bear just behind him. He gets in the ring and sits in a corner clutching at his teddy bear.

The bell rings and Umbra sets his bear aside. He stands and quickly gains the upper hand in the match but the attention of the crowd quickly turns to something else.

A fan has jumped the barricade and he’s wearing a black ski mask and wielding the chair he was sitting on. Several members of security rush toward him but he is quick to take each of them out with the folding chair. He then rolls into the ring and starts nailing all of the rookies with the chair.

Jenny Jersey: Someone has climbed in the ring and is raising hell!

The masked assailant looks over at Umbra and he tosses the chair aside. Umbra grabs the masked assailants mask. The masked assailant grabs Umbras mask. Both of them tug and we are surprised by both reveals.

Larry Gordon: IT”S THE COMEDIAN! THAT MAN IS NOT UNDER CONTRACT! GET SOME MORE SECURITY OUT HERE!

Linzi Martin: Wait…is that…Spyke Gein! UMBRA IS SPYKE GEIN!

Spyke falls into a sitting position and hides his hands behind his face. He rocks back and forth in a disturbing manner. We haven’t seen a trace of Spyke since his wife had miscarried. He clearly wasn’t taking it well. Allen falls to a knee and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Allen: “Are you alright?”

Spyke offers no response. He simply grabs his teddy bear, rolls out of the ring, and heads to the back. Allen looks around and notices the other three match participants are starting to stir. All three come at him and he quickly levels each of them with a Set-Up (bionic elbow) and the crowd goes wild. He pins one of them but the ref refuses to count. Allen stands and is quick to kick the ref in the gut and bring him down on the mat with a package piledriver.

Linzi Martin: PUNCHLINE! PUNCHLINE! PUNCHLINE!

Larry Gordon: That was like, right in my fucking ear.

Allen stands and looks at all the chaos he created and laughs to himself a little bit. All three of the rookies were bleeding from the face. The ref was twitching slightly on the ground. Allen pounds on his chest and raises his arms, letting out a triumphant shout. The crowd goes wild for the savage display. A few more members of security come out but are stopped by Simon Kalis as he walks out with a briefcase in hand and a referee in tow. The ref slides into the ring. Allen looks at Simon with a confused look on his face but is interrupted by a punch from one of the rookies. The other two had rolled out of the ring and were leaving and probably showed some intelligence in doing so. Allen boots the rookie in the chest and delivers a second package piledriver. Mikey Massacre turns and shouts in Linzi Martins ear.

Larry Gordon: PUNCHLINE! PUNCHLINE! PUNCHLINE!

Linzi Martin: Wow, you’re right. That IS pretty annoying.

Allen places his foot atop the fallen rookie and doesn’t take his eyes off of Simon as the ref makes the 3 count and calls for the bell. No music plays as they don’t have Allens music on file. Simon approaches the ring and sets the briefcase on the apron. He opens it and takes out a clipboard. He reaches between the ropes, extending it to Allen. Allen has a look at it before he reaches down and rubs the rookies forehead, smearing blood all over his hand before he finger paints his name on the dotted line. He hands the contract to Simon who puts it in his briefcase before politely golf-clapping for Allen. He heads to the back, leaving Allen to celebrate.

Linzi Martin: Now THAT is how you sign a contract in REBEL Pro! ‘The Comedian’ Allen Chaney has officially arrived in REBEL!

Larry Gordon: That big fat joke is gonna make a mockery out of professional wrestling!

Allen high fives a few of the fans as he heads to the back, smiling wide.

The Day Of…

We move to a shot of Susan Boyle now entering the backstage area of the Underground Arena in Las Vegas. Its the night of the fight. She makes her way down the hallway and stops at Justin Case’s dressing room door.

Boyle trys to dry off her moist palm and nervously knocks on Case’s door.

Justin answers rather rudely.

Susan Boyle: Justin Case! I cant believe I am in the same

place as “The Chosen One!”

Justin Case: Yeah, who the hell are you?!

Susan is taken back by the news

Susan Boyle: What do you mean? You sent me a letter and paid my way here. Look, I even have a front row center ticket.

She pulls out her ticket.

Justin Case: Well, thats an Aggression ticket, but I dont know what the hell you are talking about lady. Listen chick, hit the bricks. I got alot of groupee’s. Stand AT THE END of the line!

Case slams the door in her face!

Susan Boyle can’t believe it. She came all this way for what? This?

For reasons unknown, suddenly her frown changes to an smile.

Fade out…

Number One Contenders Match for the Aggression Championship!

Justin Case versus Jake Norton

With Susan Boyle at ringside in the front row cheering him on, Justin Case makes a grand entrance which is quickly cut short by Jake Norton sneak attacking him from behind. Immediately Norton with a Russian leg sweep into the guard rails catches TCO off guard, but Justin Case quickly rebounds with some errant elbows that catch Norton hard. He throws Norton into the ring and the bell rings to start the match up. Case with a German Suplex crashes Norton to the canvas. Norton rolls with it, getting to his feet with Case and hitting a Pendulum Elbow that knocks Case flat on the canvas.

The crowd is really into it as Norton continues his assault with a wheelbarrow dragon suplex! He goes for the cover but only gets a two count, and Case gets some encouragement from Susan Boyle in front row as she holds up a sign that says “Case’s #1 Fan!” Case now dodges an attack by Norton, and then quickly hits a Fishermans suplex on Jake Norton. Case wastes no time, his veteran presence of mind kicking in as he climbs up top and lands a wonderfully executed shooting star press over Jake Norton and this time he covers! He gets the 1! The 2! But not the 3 as Norton kicks out, trying desperately to hold onto his undefeated streak. Norton elbows Case again, throws his arms out to his sides and absorbs the reaction from the crowd before twisting around and hitting Case with double hammerlock piledriver! This time Norton covers!

1!

2!!

KICK OUT! JUSTIN CASE KICKS OUT! (BAH GAWD BAH GAWD)

Norton shakes off the referee’s decision and lifts Case back up but Case with a quick grapple then whips Norton into the ropes. Case lands a great dropkick which sends both men crashing to the canvas. Norton is however looking to capitalize and does so by hitting a half nelson suplex on Case, although considering the size difference it took a lot out of him to do it. It’s then that Susan Boyle herself hops over the guard rail and quickly vanishes under the ring. Norton catches it and begins looking around at all sides for her. From underneath the ring, Susan Boyle appears again this time with an aluminum barbed wire covered bat! She slides in behind Norton, the crowd is going NUTS, Case’s jaw has dropped and Norton… Jake Norton looks at the REBELTron and gets a televised view of what’s happening, and before he can even turn around to meet her, Susan Boyle cracks the back of his head open with the hardest swing she can muster. Norton lurches forward, bouncing onto the ropes as Susan drops her weapon and steps aside. Case is up and catches Norton as he bounces back from those ropes and hits JUST 2 TALENTED! The crowd can’t believe it! Case covers!

1!

2!!

3!!!

DING DING DING

Justin gets his hand raised and that’s when, as “Victory” blares through the speakers, he and Susan Boyle embrace in a hug in the middle of the ring. Norton rolls out of the ring very groggily, holding the back of his bleeding head on the ground outside the ring. Case and Boyle get out of the ring, and hand in hand they walk up the entrance ramp victoriously with The Wiz following closely behind.

Fake Empire III

Backstage, in the Wrestling’s Undisputed private locker-room, Salazar ties his bootlaces while Deicide rolls the kinks out of his strained neck. Both Undisputed Tag Team Championships rest atop the coffee table conveniently positioned for this camera shot to include. In the background, a strangely familiar voice gives the ‘go’ to speak.

Cesar Salazar: “It’s only been two months since this arena blew up.”

Sitting upward, Salazar leans back into the comfortable, leather cushion of the couch seating both Undisputed members.

Cesar Salazar: “Simon resurrecting it – is too soon, I feel.”

One glass of dark, brown liquid swirls inside, thanks to the rotating wrist of Deicide.

Deicide: “It’s surprising, to say the least; that people are filing in, as we speak.”

Now downing the liquor, Deicide tilts his head backward.

Paul Alba: “Perhaps the fact Mainerishi is nowhere-in-sight and will not be physically part of this show makes this Super Aggression acceptable?”

The ‘strangely familiar’ voice from earlier is now made clear: Paul Alba, the voice of Underground X via play-by-play/lead commentator and author of Blacklist transcripts.

Cesar Salazar: “That could be possible.”

Exhaling hard on a whisper, mucus crackling Deicide’s voice sounds. Leaving the couch, Deicide heads to the locker-room bathroom to spit his mouthful of phlegm into a toilet bowl.

Cesar Salazar: “He’s terribly sick.”

Paul pans the camera around to get a view of Deicide standing in front of a sink, tossing cold water onto his face.

Paul Alba: “Will it affect his performance?”

Cesar Salazar: “No.”

The out-of-shot response prompts the camera to return to focusing on Salazar.

Paul Alba: “Right. You two are gems at wrestling, but the Eastern Uproars –“

Deicide: “They go by simply ‘Uproars’ now.”

You can’t see it, but Alba is visibly sad.

Paul Alba: “What’s wrong with ‘Eastern Uproars’? I pegged that, you know.”

Patting his thigh thrice in rhythm, Salazar nods.

Cesar Salazar: “Who knows what they’re doing now. Am I the only one that’s noticed Edison lost his humbled, blue-chip charm, lately? He’s excessively swearing, playing hipster and acts cock of the walk, all of the sudden.”

Paul Alba: “I think he’s reinventing himself for the REBEL audience. Maybe he wants to be seen under another light instead of ‘Pee Wee Herman in spandex’.”

Deicide: “All that falling-with-style Edison does, he ought to voice Buzz Lightyear.”

Paul Alba: “Edison should become the fifth Wiggle.”

Cesar Salazar: “He’d have to know how to make fruit salad.”

Almost in the vein of Family Guy, the scene changes to an old video of Disney Playhouse’s “The Wiggles” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gB4MNu6W9sg). When we return, the trio eventually stops laughing at Edison’s expense. Really, Edison is a saint! He doesn’t deserve this mockery.

Paul Alba: “Alright, we gotta record you guys saying something provocative.”

Former archrivals turned closest of friends, Salazar and Deicide exchange a look, as if telepathically speaking.

Paul Alba: “How about we start with you, Deicide.”

The Undisputed duo simultaneously looks back at Alba.

Deicide: “Well, I’ve been sick the past few days: got a sore throat, thumping headache, warm fever, stuffy nose, all common symptoms of a typical autumn cold. Yet, still, I am quite confident in retaining these belts.”

Paul Alba: “Why is that?”

Without needing to ponder, let alone think, Deicide replies smoothly as silk.

Deicide: “I’m not being arrogant, Paul. Salazar and I have discussed at length the UX tag division, when that’s where we reigned supreme, so of course, the Uproars being one of the very few teams we had yet to separate and force out of town, the topic of our stance on their importance, value and skill crept in frequently.”

Intervening, Salazar adds to Deicide’s admission with a smile and the following:

Cesar Salazar: “Most of our conversations are work-related. Our minds constantly calculating, analyzing, determining moves, strategies, techniques, whatever can enhance our mental performances. And, we’ve estimated the Uproars as being our true UX adversaries. If anyone in that awful league had an ounce of potential, it would be them. Therefore, if they were given the opportunity to challenge us, we would not stipulate the match as ‘Losers Leave UX’ because they are crucial to having a substantial tag division that’s rich and diverse. We still believe them to be fantastic counterparts.”

Paul Alba: “That’s cool hearing you two credit them as great competitors. But, what’s the catch? You two obviously aren’t planning to lose.”

Both Champions take their belts off the coffee table by the leather and hoist them onto their shoulders.

Deicide: “Simon Kalis took a jab at us recently on a promotional poster by saying this match is for the ‘Disputed’ Tag Team Championships. Apparently, he didn’t like our words from a few weeks ago saying he should just recognize us as the absolute tag champions of REBEL Pro and be our cheerleader. Hence him booking not just his daughter but himself against Krontrovery Kreates Kake for the REBEL Tag Titles on tonight’s card, too.”

Cesar Salazar: “Are we upset by this? No. In all actuality, he’s given us what we wanted. I’m sure many of you fans have noticed in previous weeks, Simon hasn’t been booking us. Why? Because he knows we’ll wipe out this division. We obliterated Golden Inferno in our official in-ring REBEL debut, and that’s not really something to hoot about, but considering that Job Squad is one of – what – two tag teams available in REBEL Pro? That left KKK to defend the hold. Fortunately, Simon has roped in ‘Fine Wine’ and ‘The Uproars’ to stabilize things, but once we defeat ‘The Uproars’ tonight, and I imagine ‘KKK’ overcomes the Kalis Family, predictably, our paths must cross to unify the tag championships.”

Deicide: “The ultimate goal here is purifying this tag division. Do we wish to save it? Yes. How so? By being elite, classy motherfuckers who’re technically profound and are capable of establishing far-reaching connections with the masses. Believe it or not, Salazar and I don’t get our jollies off bending bodies in unnatural ways or piling up mutilated corpses like Simon Kalis fantasies about. You know, the oh-so-cool ideal of transforming ringside into a warzone – complete with decapitated heads spiked on turnbuckles and bloodstained mats.”

Cesar Salazar: “We only do that because that’s what it takes to defeat these REBELs. This federation is built off the promise of brutality, so we must meet the standard in order to cleanse and rebuild the infrastructure.”

A little puzzled by this answer, Alba’s eyes narrow, and then widen.

Paul Alba: “So, basically, you two aren’t pro-traditional, right?”

Salazar shrugs as Deicide folds his hands onto his lap.

Cesar Salazar: “You know me. I think wrestling should have traditional rules, so if that is a consequence of our solution, that’s fine by me. But no, when we say ‘purify’ – we speak of wanting to rid the tag division of this poor impression of being for the medium talent who’ve yet to discover themselves.”

Deicide: “By defeating Tony Edison and Erik Loomis tonight, and retaining our Undisputed Tag Championships, we’re one step closer to taking this division to the next level: Main Event stature. That’s where we need to elevate these beauties. Because, if the World Heavyweight Championship and our Undisputed Tag Championships were booked on the same card, what would likely happen is the World Heavyweight headlining over us. Why? What makes the singles division more suitable than ours? Not only are Salazar and I world-class athletes that’ve wrestled more than an hour at a time, but we’re equally as marketable as The Phoenix. Actually, fuck, I’ve heard Justin Case was a former REBEL World Champion. There’s no fucking way you can say “it’s more prestigious” when that untalented asshole has claim to that.”

Cesar Salazar: “The Uproars are in the beginning stages of their formation, too. They’re just not ready to carry the burden of being REBEL Tag Champion. This division is in shambles, and we’re the only tag team with purpose, let alone one that really gives a damn what happens to it. In the end, Paul, yes, the Uproars are talented, but what gives us the advantage tonight is more than our bone-breaking mastery: our willful passion.”

Paul Alba: “Sounds ultra.”

With that not-too-subtle, possibly still too-soon dark joke, the segment ends with Deicide holding back a laugh and Salazar shaking his head at Alba.

Got A Lot of Things

“Badass” hits up in the speakers as from the back to a thunderous ovation is Bubba J, the Ragin’ Redneck himself. He’s got a microphone in his hand and is speaking as he walks down the ramp.

“Whats up?!”

The crowd gets louder.

“I need a beer!”

They laugh, but a fan hands him a Natural Light, he opens it up as he walks up the ramp.

“Cheap… but effective!”

The crowd laughs again.

“What the fuck is up in here?!”

He seems taken a back a bit.

“I’m sorry to all the fucking kids, I didn’t mean to say fuck, fuck me I keep saying fuck!”

The crowd laughs, the kids have heard worse I’m sure.

“Anyways, let me get down to the bizness at hand…”

He chugs some beer.

“I got my fucking name back!”

The crowd is loving it.

“I got my damn fucking name back!”

The crowd is even louder.

“I’ve got 2 percent control of Rebel Pro!”

The crowd isn’t letting up.

“It ain’t much but that fat fuck Gordon ain’t got it…”

He lowers and tilts his head to the side.

“Does he?”

They all laugh, he has them in the palm of his hand.

“I also have to do something with this 2 percent, but that is less important right now. I’ve got a couple of other things to talk about.”

He walks around the ring, tossing the beer back and emptying it.

“I’ve got a World Title #1 Contender match later tonight, with a pussy that left this fucking company because he doesn’t have the balls to stand up to real competition!”

The Underground X fans boo at this, but he waves at them.

“Ya’ll support your company, I respect that, just as I think this company is the best, nothing wrong with loyalty… its damn good as a matter of fact.”

He catches a beer from a fan, looks surprised, then pops the top; its a Budweiser.

“Better…”

He belches.

“But I’ve got to find a Tag Team partner as well and with Vinny Black off making homosexual pornos…”

The crowd laughs, they know that Bubba J and Vincent Black are always making stupid jokes with each other.

“I’m left without a partner. So, I’ve got to find someone, or else this shot will be wasted… I don’t like to waste any fucking thing.”

He lights up a cigarette in the middle of the ring.

“But there is even something more important than that and its that sumbitch known as Macca.”

He stops his pacing, staring at the back.

“I want him out here and I want him out here next week. I’ll wait one more week Macca and that is it… or else I’m coming after your ass. You beat me once and I want a chance to… repay the favor… so to speak.”

He belches again, tapping ash on the canvas.

“But for the mean time… Sean Robinson is going to get his whimpy ass whooped!”

“Baddass” hits back up as Bubba J exits the ring to a thunderous ovation.

Wrestling’s Undisputed? Lol, jk!

“Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” plays and Tony Edison walks down to the ring, solo this time. The crowd does adore him, no doubt about it, but he doesn’t seem as into the crowd as usual. He greets them and shows the love, by something seems off. He grabs a microphone, sliding into the ring and his music cuts. The crowd, respecting him, gets quiet right away.

Edison: Love the adoration you guys show to us every week, it means a lot.

Crowd pop, as expected. Cater to them and they love you forever.

Edison: So the Uproars have a huge match tonight, we face off against Wrestling’s Undisputed for the “Disputed” Tag Team Championships. Didn’t take us long in the REBEL system to get something, eh?

Another crowd pop, but I just want to know if Edison is aware that these aren’t really the “top tier” belts in the system.

Edison: So tonight id like to have a bit of a chat before our match with an opponent. So ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our dear friends, Deicide and Cesar Salazar!

The music plays and two men appear on the stage. They look like Salazar and Deicide, but nobody is fooled. People are actually laughing at this display. Suddenly, Erik Loomis comes out dressed in a full suit, sunglasses and all. He grabs the supposed “Salazar” by the wrist, implying that he should be following him back to the back.

Edison: Excuse me, sir, what’s going on? Where are you taking my special guest?

Loomis grabs a microphone.

Loomis: I’m with INS, and am taking this man with me on suspicion of his being an illegal alien. He’s looking at being deported.

Edison: Well, I hate to be one to fight with the government, so if it must be done.

He shrugs as the other man, the supposed “Deicide” makes his way to the ring. He gets in and the two shake hands. Edison gets him a microphone.

Edison: Now Deicide, you’ve been in this business for quite some time, long enough to consider yourself a veteran, right?

Deicide: Yes, that would be accurate.

Edison: Some might even look at you as a “messiah” of sorts?

Deicide nods, actually, looking quite flattered.

Edison: But you have yet to face either myself, or Erik Loomis to date, and I pride myself in saying that we are probably the biggest challenge you have to date

Deicide: Well, I don’t know if I’d–

Edison is facing away from the man now, looking to the crowd, Deicide about two steps behind him.

Edison: Shut your mouth.

And with that said, Edison drops the microphone and does a perfectly executed Pele Kick, cutting the imposter’s story short. He gets back up as Loomis comes out to the ring in his gear.

Edison: We are the best tag team in this business, and when it comes down to it, we will do whatever it takes to win any championship that signifies us as being one of the top tier competitors. So if you want to rant about your God complex, or your intense riches, or that awful Mexican accent that you can’t rid yourself of, then shut up, and show up in this ring to back your shit up. Loomis and I have done everything in our power to get this division back on track, but everybody seems to be getting in our way. Tonight, we’re just ridding REBEL of one more obstacle.

With that Edison drops the microphone to an awesome crowd reaction.

“Disputed” Tag Team Championship Match

The Uproars versus Wrestling’s Undisputed

- No time for proper introductions or back-story this time, because seconds after returning from commercial break, just when the Undisputed (or ‘Disputed’ – Lol not really) Tag Team Champions stepped inside the ring, with the already in-ring Uproars (Tony Edison & Erik Loomis) ready to pounce, Deicide took it upon himself to call Edison a ‘pee wee faggot’, prompting the UX Hall of Famer to strike venomously! Nailing Deicide with a forearm smash, Edison then wheel kicks Salazar over-the-top-rope! Loomis, a bit late to the party, nonetheless scoops a re-gathered Deicide and performs an argentine backbreaker!

- Okay, since Deicide is laid out, courtesy of a spinning spinebuster by Erik Loomis, and Salazar had eaten a disastrous diving Leg Drop that drove him face-first into concrete, thanks to Tony Edison’s top rope aerial, Linzi and Gordon have a few seconds to spare for some insight: The Uproars were being built as the team who could save the UX Tag division from the destructive, unwholesome force of former-archrivals-turned-best-buds, Deicide & Cesar Salazar, but due to Ultra Passion Movement’s shenanigans and subsequent acquisition by Simon Kalis, Underground X folded, thus The Uproars lost that momentum and opportunity. However, Simon Kalis has given the Uproars a chance to claim those UX Undisputed Tag Championships in a final hurrah match before what many spectators predict will be a merger of both REBEL and UX Tag Championships match at an undetermined event.

- Jumping onto the apron and then propelling himself skyward, Edison takes Salazar and himself over the barricade with an electric Asai Moonsault, which receives many lovely chants from the crowd!! Back inside the ring, Deicide has reversed Loomis’s fireman hold into a Crucifix Driver that nearly scored an upset! Meanwhile, outside to Edison and Salazar’s side of action, Tony threw a chair at Salazar, who caught it, only to suffer one hellish spinning heel kick to the steel chair (also known as, Van Daminator!) Returning to Deicide and Loomis, the UX Tag Champion has brought Loomis into a nearby turnbuckle, and is attempting to pull Loomis up onto the top buckle for a powerbomb of sorts! Yet, when Deicide tried for a powerbomb, the Undisputed member slipped, but it was Loomis who caught him and brought ‘The Sacred’ overhead and down to the canvas with a utterly devastating over-the-shoulder belly-to-back piledriver!!!!

Linzi Martin: “WHAT THE BLUE F*CK!?”

Larry Gordon: “IS HE DEAD?! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HE MAY BE DEAD!”

Loomis went for the cover, but when former UX referee, now REBEL referee Charlie went to count, Deicide instinctively fucking placed his foot on the fucking bottom rope!! No way in hell that should have happened after such a crushing move, but god damn it, it happened!

- Skipping three minutes forward: super frankensteiner sends Deicide awkwardly into the canvas, to Edison’s delight. Tony dives for a lateral press, but Salazar interferes with a release powerbomb to Erik Loomis, that coincidentally brings Loomis onto a midair Edison’s backside! Now given time to recover, Deicide watches his profound partner, Cesar Salazar, kneel step-over head-hold armbar a face-down Loomis, followed by hooking his leg, but when Edison intervenes, Salazar takes a thrust kick to the side of the head; effectively ending his submission! This compels Deicide to act, leading to a brawl between Edison and Deicide that is eventually taken onto the apron. When they go there, Deicide knees Edison in the gut and jumping spike piledrives Edison off the apron and onto the concrete below for maximum (s)markage!

At the same time, Salazar has performed a brilliant hat trick (seven consecutive vertical suplexes) that concludes in an Indian Deathlock! Erik Loomis holds out for as long as he possibly could, but with no means of escape, Loomis knew when to call it quits. A verbal submission grants Wrestling’s Undisputed victory and a successful title defense, but not an absolute merry crowd. Only some in the audience are delighted by Salazar and Deicide’s victory; others, not so much. Still, “Game of Thrones Main Title” boasts its epic notes, to the Uproars’ disappointment.

Paul Alba, who had been at ringside this enter time, cheering his clients on, takes the Undisputed Championships from ring announcer Jenny Jersey, hands one of them to Deicide and raises his hand triumphantly, while Salazar meets them at the entranceway to receive his belt and also a hand-raise from Paul Alba, too.

[Match: 14 minutes, 58 seconds]

Sean RobinsoWhoCares?

Bubba J, the man sitting in front of the camera on a wooden folding chair, smokes a cigarette and looks for all the world like he doesn’t care.

“I sit here and wonder about you Robinson, does anyone care, do you care, do you have any idea what you’ve been booked in to?”

He sneers.

“In your return you are facing Bubba J…”

He waves a hand in dismissal.

“You may have had a match before now, you may not have, I couldn’t care less because its you Sean Robinson and frankly… who cares?”

He exhales.

“You were once a very promissing talent that could have been inducted into the Extreme Elite… but were too much of a bonefied pussy to stand up to the fucking rigors of having to go at every single thing as hardcore. You’d whimper at the sight of blood, you’d get squeamish when we told you what to do, you were just… pa-fucking-thetic.”

A drag on the cigarette.

“But you went on to find your niche in a federation, a company, a place that is called Underground X.”

He coughs gently.

“But like most everything you are associated with, it went to shit as well. Sean, you are like an STD gotten from a rotten prostitute, something that Mr. Clean turns his head when he comes near. You are worthless, you are less than worthless, you are something that no one wants to be associated with. I don’t know if Simon actually wanted to sign you or if you just had that long left on your contract and they needed bodies to take the beatings that us in Rebel are prone to giving out.”

He snickers.

“You left Robinson, you ran away like a bitch and didn’t bother even to say why. I figured its because you couldn’t handle it here, you were scared, you are a human sized vagina that looks like a man.”

He shivers.

“I’ve seen some others before in my day, but they go by the name of Justin Case.”

Laughter.

“This match is for the right to be immediately put back in the Rebel Pro World Title picture, something I’d like to have, but is just window dressing to make you give a damn about this match. Its something that fishermen, hunters, people like that call bait.”

He looks at the camera, seeing if Sean is interested, as though he could tell.

“Which will make you show up and get the bloody hell beat out of you, because it will have drug you in like a junky looking for a fix even though he knows its killing him one snort at a time.”

He shakes his head.

“The name may be back to Bubba J, but the hardcore asshole never left the fucking building sunshine. I’m not going to say the typical I’m gonna walk in there and stomp a mudhole in your ass and then walk it dry.”

He shakes his head.

“Nope, I’m going to say, that I’m walking in there, beating your ass black, blue, and red. I’m going to fill the building with the squeals of your pain, the whimpering of your voicebox, the cries of your torture…”

He winks as he flicks the cigarette away.

“And its all gonna be legal. But one important thing Sean… I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of it.”

He winks.

{fade}

When In Rome…

The Jumbotron in the newly-rebuilt (and upgraded) UX Arena flickers to life, and Sean Robinson’s face fills the screen. Some minor scarring is apparent from the flames that engulfed the old UX Arena in its final night, but otherwise he’s just as handsome as ever. Among the chorus of boos from the REBEL faithful, some fangirl shrieking can be heard.

“Bubba J… Dale Petty… Whatever he calls himself these days, the big dumb redneck can always rely on one thing: Being totally and completely out of his league in a wrestling ring.

Look at last week’s Aggression, for instance. It took every ounce of energy, determination, and strength he had, just to beat Bobby Lee. The same Bobby Lee who tried to interrupt my REBEL debut. Then he pissed himself.

You let a pisspants retard nearly beat you. And you only won because he punched himself in the sack, and you fell on top of him.”

An incredulous look crosses his face.

“And Kalis trusts you to possibly be the number one contender? He thinks that facing you this week, for a shot at the World Heavyweight Title, is some sort of challenge for me? Does he even know who the fuck I am? Let me tell you exactly who I am.

I am the longest-reigning Undisputed Champion in Underground X history. Longer than both of Jonathan Cage’s reigns put together. Longer than all three of Sinister Fiend’s reigns combined. I’m a UX Hall of Famer. Fuck that, I’m the UX Hall Of Fame. I’m the greatest technical wrestler in the world today.

Last week, while Bubba J was preparing for his hand-picked opponent, I went up against Anna Matthews, the current Aggression champion. My second match in REBEL, against someone that Bubba has had a hell of a time beating in the past, and I tore her apart in twenty minutes. I didn’t just make her tap out. I cut off her air supply, choked the bitch out, and sent her for a long nap.

But I guess that win finally convinced Simon Kalis that I’m the best damn thing going in his company right now. Two weeks ago, I wasn’t on his radar. Last week, I called his punk ass out, then I made his precious little Aggression Champion my bitch. And I must have finally gotten through his thick nignorant skull, because now I’m getting a shot at the World Title. Right after I beat this dropout from “Cletus’s House Of Waffles n Wrasslin”. This is the kind of booking that goes on here in REBEL? You put your most athletically gifted talent into a deathmatch, and expect to draw a crowd?

Here I am: A perfectly tuned Ferrari in a demolition derby.”

The camera zooms out, and his upper body comes into view. Cue more fangirl squeee. His hands are clasped behind his back.

“Simon Kalis thinks that if he puts me into a match like this, I’ll be so far out of my element that Bubba J has no problem beating me. He thinks that I can’t hold my own in a deathmatch. And maybe he has a point. UX wasn’t known for any of those old-fashioned ideals like ‘rules’ or ‘honor’, but it wasn’t all about blood and guts, either. There was a happy medium there. The hardcore had their fun, and so did the purists like myself. And now I come to REBEL, where the word of the day is violence. Perhaps I’m out of my element. Maybe I’m not ready for the ultraviolent style that the fans in REBEL expect on a weekly basis. They love their kendo sticks, their light tubes, their flaming tables. And I’m more into crisp suplexes, sharp chops, and deadly-accurate dropkicks.

But I’ve learned a few things during my time at the top of the game. One of those things is adaptability. I’m nothing if not flexible. There’s a saying here in Vegas. It comes from the large latino community. Donde fueres, haz lo que vieres..”

His hands come out from behind his back, and the fans erupt as they see what he holds. His right hand, used previously to deliver lightning-quick jabs, is wrapped with tape, doused in glue, and then covered in shards of broken glass. In his left hand, he holds a Louisville Slugger, wrapped with glistening razor wire.

“When in Rome…”

The picture fades to black as the trademark Robinson smirk greets REBEL for the first time.

Number One Contenders DEATH Match for the REBEL Pro World Championship

Bubba J versus Sean Robinson

- So we can finally call Bubba J by the name we all know him best by, which is great, but what would be better is seeing the former REBEL World Champion become the number one contender for Phoenix’s World Championship! And since this is a deathmatch, odds are certainly stacked in the Ultraviolent Icon’s favor. All he has to do is beat the widely-acclaimed ‘Greatest Wrestler Today’, Sean Robinson. The same Sean Robinson whose epic ‘tiger driver’ drove Kevin Holiday through the roof of a rusty car in UX’s infamous ‘Parking Lot Brawl’ match, drove eWo Legend, Reno Drake, off the very top of a ladder and into the ring canvas, and shelved multiple wrestlers (Jonathan Fhenix, ‘Bad Man’ Reece Jackson and Johnny Chainz) by means of his torturous ligament-tearing, bone-breaking methods! Regardless of this being a deathmatch, to paraphrase Sean Robinson, he’s adaptable, but if Bubba J can defeat him, that is serious claim, though vice-versa effect.

- One fist taped yet covered atop this tape is glued shards whilst the other hand wields a Louisville slugger coated with freshly-made barbwire, sharp to the touch. These fists are attached to Sean Robinson, who clearly is bringing all his hardcore craziness tonight, but Bubba J (who only has a Singapore cane) apparently does not give any fuck. A lit cigarette stuck to Bubba’s lips is being inhaled coolly as the bionic roughneck eggs Robbo on. Amusing Bubba’s confidence, Sean comes out twirling the baseball bat as Bubba stands still. When Sean swings, Bubba catches the bat with one hand! Albeit the barbwire slices open Bubba’s hand, Bubba nevertheless devilishly grins to Sean’s awe, and then slaps him upside the head repeatedly with the kendo stick!

- Falling backward onto his ass, Robinson holds onto his aching head in full defense mode, but Bubba has dropped the Singapore cane to equip himself with that barbwire slugger, instead! First kicking Robinson in the face, thus Sean whips backward once more to lie completely out, Bubba swings the baseball bat as if it were a wood (golf club) for the bat not only to harshly blast Robinson in his ribcage but as result, the barbwire invades into Robinson’s skin rather rape!! Howling in pain, Robinson begins to roll his self away, but Bubba brings the bat overhead and slams it once more into Robinson, this time hitting his spine!

- Bleeding from the nose, and from pierced skin along the left-side ribs and backside, Robinson already struggles to stand, but assistance from Bubba J, who is now also on the apron, quickens Sean’s pace. Though not what he had in mind, Sean is forced against the ropes after five rough jabs to the damage ribs sustain him, and then, Bubba’s arms wrap around Sean’s waist. Robinson knew what would come, so desperately fought back with elbows to Bubba’s head, but Bubba drove his fist so hard in Robinson’s ribcage, Sean temporarily ceased all action on his end, which is all Bubba needed to pull backward for an overhead belly-to-back suplex that sent Robinson through the announcer’s table!!! If Robinson weren’t too busy being in tremendous pain, this is where he chants, “THIS IS WRESTLING” though no one needs to fear, Fans have got that covered for him!!

Linzi Martin: “OH DEAR GAAAAAWD!!”

Larry Gordon: “DAMN THAT BUBBA J! DAMN HIM! HE’S LIKELY KILLED THE MAN!!”

Linzi Martin: “Oh Fu**! Larry, this doesn’t look good. Robinson needs medical attention!”

Larry Gordon: “THIS IS WHY I FIRED THAT TRAILER PARK TRASH, DAMN IT!”

- Walking along the debris of his handiwork, Bubba J eyes Larry Gordon with a wicked grin and two middle fingers to salute! Naturally, Fans absolutely devour Bubba’s awesomeness through chants of ‘Welcome Back’ and ‘Thank You, J!’

Linzi Martin: “No, Bubba J hasn’t gone anywhere, folks. I think Fans here are welcoming back the name, the spirit of Bubba J!”

Scooping Robinson off his bloody back, Bubba rams the alleged ‘Greatest Wrestler Today’ into the ring post once, and then shoves his carcass inside the ring. Placing both hands on top of Robinson’s barely pumping chest, Bubba J watches Referee John Chellios (LOLOLOL – Yes, the former UX wrestler / icon) initiate the count, but shockingly, Robinson lifts a leg onto the bottom rope! Chellios nearly counted the three without noticing it, but Chellios’s lazy-eye managed to catch a glimpse, fortunately for Robbo!

- Nodding in respect, as Bubba is prone to do in these types of scenarios, the Trailer Park Phenomenon grabs Robinson by the nape of his neck, pulling him onto his feet, but in the midst of this double standing, Robinson effectively uppercuts Bubba with that Taipei fist of glued, broken glass! Blow by blow, Robinson slices Bubba’s skin open in sections of the jaw, chest, stomach, right arm, and concludes by stealing and executing Bubba’s signature seated three-quarter facelock jawbreaker (Trailer Park Trash / Stunner)!! Bubba shoots upward after Robinson’s interpretation of the stunner, but coincidentally lands against the turnbuckles, to automatically stand him upon touching canvas. However, Robinson knocks Bubba twice more in the cheek, tearing Bubba open rather gruesomely, and transitions into a – you fucking guessed it –

Linzi Martin: “TIGER DRIVER ’91!! HE HIT IT! ROBBO NAILED IT!”

Hooking a badly bloodied Bubba J’s leg, a somehow-even-worse bloodied Robinson collapses onto Bubba for Referee John Chellios to count the one-two-three! So many fans are breathless from surprise or excitement, that hearing ‘Amazing (Heartbeats Remix)” by Kanye West blare, is almost surreal. Two minutes ago, nobody would have predicted this outcome.

Larry Gordon: “YES! YES! ROBBO DID IT! HE BEAT THAT REDNECK BASTARD”

Linzi Martin: “Sean Robinson has earned the right to face The Phoenix for the REBEL World Heavyweight Championship at ‘Merry Time Massacre’!”

Sean Robinson madly laughs in relief, despite not capable of standing or even sitting upward. But his fellow Wrestling’s Undisputed mates (Paul Alba, Cesar Salazar & Deicide) come out in celebration. While Fans make sure to announce their very mixed reaction to Robinson’s win, Deicide & Salazar hoist a much bloodied Sean Robinson onto their shoulders as Paul Alba is yelling at the cameraman and viewers at home, “LOOK AT YOUR NEXT WORLD CHAMPION, CUNTS! HE IS GREATNESS, HE IS REBELLIOUS, AND HE IS UNDISPUTED!” That takes us into a quick commercial break.

[Match: 8 minutes, 36 seconds]

Stoopid Different Segment!

This is a sea of static, a sea of sorrow, a land beyond time. We have somehow slipped through the cracks of the mind of William Shatner as he scratches the lid of his pine box furiously. He is not dead and nether is his career. But in the sun’s eye, he might as well be. What we’re seeing and how we’re seeing it depends on the beholder. Is that a donut or a lifesaver? It could be a parachute or nothing at all really. Maybe I’m making this up as I go along, the way I used to do. Or maybe you’re making it up for me. It doesn’t seem to matter much. The bottom line is we are here. In Vegas. And Anna is outside the Underground Arena, looking at it but not really looking. Wasn’t this place blown up?

PuppetLiza: Ummm…I think Simon rebuilt it.

Silly Puppet. You’re adhering to a possible canon. That never works. The warehouse was torn down too, but they retconned that shit. I’m sure it still gives Holiday fits. Allow us to make a more plausible theory. A TARDIS and a Waybac machine collided and subsequently reverse the damage. It also brought back the dead. See them zombies? They’re still coming to see the show. Poor bastards. But why just stand here? Why not say hello?

Anna Mathews: Cuz diff’rent arenas haz diff’rent vibrashuns depending awn the circumstances.

Like holy ground.

Anna Mathews: Xactly. Yif won does not throughlee prepare four the soaked in memories of the building, they will cum across a rather roode awakening.

PuppetLisa: Since when did you get all spiritual?

Since we learned how this works. Eyes dart as everything seems to breathe at the same time. The foundation inhales and exhales on its own. The zombies glance at each other, confused. As if they’re trying to remember if this had happened before. The sky darkens suddenly, forcing lights to glitter past. Walking to the door is methodical. Mindfulness in each step with a steel focus. Swish. The gate of hell open with ease. Before she could take a step inside, a grin dances across the Aggression champion’s face.

(Helloooooo Underground! I see you hav plentee ov generic mofo’s inn ur lifetimes.)

Glimpses appear. Paxton. Robinson. Edison and Loomis. Or is it Loomis and Edison?

(Whatevs. Interchangible fucks wit no reel substance. Decent looking guys wif decent moves, only one ov wish had enuff stroke frum the hype machine to win big shinys inn ur beloved company. Mazeltov. Still doesn’t matter too me. I doan’t have the tyme to try to prove myself two anybuddy.

…

Well, acktualy, I do. But it’d be a wasted effort on my part. Ya see, I dunno if you kno this. But I’m won of the workhorses of Rebel Pro. Dis would be what? The second time aye’ve competeted for two titles? With any luk, it’d alsew be the second tyme I snagged both.)

Indeed. Hey look, it’s Three Drink Minimum having a party.

(Onlee three azza staring point, Cuntster? I am disappoint. Make et twelve. Or nineteen. I luv nineteen.)

A ghostly Johnny Cage appears from nowhere saying nothing of relevance other than he’s a REBEL. He smears his face paint around and pretends to be serious.

(Sure, I’s lyke ta play a game. Just not with you. Booooooring! Cereal, the hells is up with him and the paint? Ultimate WARYAH wood be ashamed. No buddy care abowt the eWo. Knot even the peeps that work there. Shut up! Und bi the way, ur a “REBEL” by name only. Annibody can cents that.)

A dead cow lies to the side…

(Poor moo cow.)

…and in the charbroiled heart of things, a wrestling ring. The zombie fans have gather to their spots in the arena. Crows laugh from the outside while smoking cigarettes. Time abruptly stood still. A gander up to a roof stretched beyond its limits, a part of one colossal noodle. We loves noodles bathed in sauce and blood and muppet stuff. The grin returns.

Anna Mathews: Oh, yesh. Sooooo gonna like it here!~

One of the spotlights falls from the sky and lands just a few feet away.

(Still needs repairs tho.)

Fade out, assholes!

A True Son of the Confederacy

(The scene is at an old 1850′s Southern plantation in the Deep South where we see a tall, lanky man with long brown hair and a full beard wearing an all-white suit complete with white Oxford shoes, a black bolo tie, and a white cowboy hat with black trim standing in front of a cotton field in the foreground with an arrogant smirk etched on his face as we hear the heavy metal version of the “1812 William Tell Overture” in the background as he begins to speak.)

Mystery Man: ‘Dere is an old, antiquated term that goes along the lines of “Money is th’ root of all th’ e-vul in ‘dis world…”

The man silently chuckles to himself upon hearing this expression.

Mystery Man: My, oh my, how ‘dis is true! Y’all see here, for those un-educated yokels who are blissfully unaware of my name, my name is Ambrose Ulysses Beauregarde, a true “Son Of The Confederacy”, ‘de “Dixieland Delight Of The Night”, ‘de “Pride Of The Southland”… well, y’all get my point. Anyway, as a highly educated individual from “THE University of Mississippi”, not to mention being born with a rather sizeable silver spoon inserted into my mouth, one could say that I was born and bred for success. Whatever I didn’t earn, Momma and Poppa Beauregarde would buy for me, no questions asked. If I wanted a pool, they would build me a rather exquisite Olympic-sized swimming pool lined with marble. If I wanted any classic car, no demand was too unrealistic for my family. While all ‘de other youth in high school were driving dumpy cars to school, I’d show up in a different classic car every day just to rub it in those ruffians’ faces just how filthy rich my family truly is, while ‘de other kids are just plain filthy.

Beauregarde continues to smirk as he continues.

Ambrose Ulysses Beauregarde: In school, I had my share of tormentors who were quite jealous of my natural prowess in wealth and inherited athletic ability and pleasing chivalric behavior to the women-folk. But what y’all uneducated yokels fail to understand is that, while being rather gentlemanly toward the women, I had the brash swagger and innate athletic talent

on the football field & in the amateur ‘rasslin’ ranks to back it up. That’s why comin’ to this savage land of ungentlemanly-like behavior, y’all need a man like Ambrose Ulysses Beauregarde to give this place some class it sorely lacks an’ bring wrestling spelled “W-R-E-S-T-L-I-N-G” back to the forefront. Some may view me as a snob, but I’m not. I’m merely better than all of y’all. Ambrose Ulysses Beauregarde, at your service.

The screen then freezes and turns into sepia tone with the words “Ambrose Ulysses Beauregarde” written in an exquisite black cursive font on the screen, with the words “Coming Soon to REBEL Pro…” below his name as the scene fades out back to ringside…

REBEL Pro Aggression Championship Match

Jonathan Cage versus Anna Mathews©

The lights dim as we hear some white noise over the PA system. Then as the white noise cuts out, a voice comes over the speakers.

“Wanna by Vid-Saver” href=”#” in_rurl=”http://i.trkjmp.com/click?v=VVM6Mjg0MTQ6MTYwOTpwbGF5OjYzOTkyYjFiNjU2MjU4ZjE0MWI5OTQyMmY3NTUwMzcxOnotMTE0Ny00MDA3Mjp0cnVlZ2xvcnl3cmVzdGxpbmcuY29tOjIyMDgyOmEwOWM1ODg3NjJkMzY0ZWY2MjdkMjY2YTdjY2FkNDU1″play a game?”

Then the lights come on instantly as “Forget to Remember” by Mudvayne blasts through the speakers. And standing at the top of the ramp is Jonathan Cage. He stares out at the crowd for a few moments before walking down to the ring. He slides in and goes to the far corner. He climbs and does his open hand crucifix pose for the crowd. He drops down and waits for his opponent. “Forget to Remember” fading away.

Larry Gordon: Jonothan looks ready for this matchup and the chance to win the Rebel Pro Aggression Title.

“This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us” hits up in the speakers and squirrels are running around all over the place, but Anna is already in the ring, handing her belt off to Jenny Jersey, who lovingly displays it for the crowd.

Ding Ding

Jonothan and Anna tie-up into a FIRM collar and elbow. They jockey for position, grunting, grimacing, neither able to gain the advantage. They’re locked
tight, like two pit-bulls, the strain showing in their arms and shoulders. Anna maneuvering Jonothan toward the ropes, Jonothan turns around, still neither into the ropes, Jimmy Johnson watching closely. Jonothan and Anna both drop to their bellies, still locked on, and slide to the outside. They’re on the
floor… still warring over a collar-and-elbow tie up! Neither will give way to the other! Their path takes them around a corner of the ring, and then…

Linzi Martin: Neither willing to admit they are a bit weaker.

Larry Gordon: Both need this first advantage.

Both end up back inside, still in the tie-up! They maneuver back to center ring, where both competitors violently break the hold.

Glares.

Screw it.

CHOP.

Anna chops Jonothan HARD.

CHOP.

Jonothan chops Anna HARD.

WHAM! Anna with a headbutt staggers Jonothan into a corner. Anna begins UNLOADING WITH CHOPS. thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud THUD, Jonothan’s
face showing the pain… until finally, with a burst of frustrated energy, Jonothan grabs Anna by the ears and spins her around, changing positions. Now
it’s Cage’s turn!

THUD.

thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud Kick to the thigh. Anna fighting intelligently to get the advantage. Her chest is already glowing a bright red as Cage’s chops broke open blood vessels. Jonothan’s chest, also shows red welts forming, but Anna takes Jonothan over
with a vicious snap suplex, then floats over into a mount. She starts pounding away on Jonothan, who tries to cover up. Anna with no signs of stopping.

So Jimmy Johnson gets in Anna’s face urging her off of Jonothan.

Linzi Martin: Oh come on, the official can’t get involved like that!

Larry Gordon: The official can do what he deems necessary to enforce the rules, and Anna wasn’t breaking away from Jonothan. I, for one, intend to start making Rebel Pro more civilized.

Linzi Martin: You can’t, you aren’t majority owner anymore.

Larry Gordon: Shut up, who asked you?

Anna looks furious, but Jimmy Johnson isn’t about to be cowed by her. Anna grabs Jonothan… Jonothan with a shot to the breadbasket! Point of the elbow to the
back of the head! Jonothan takes Anna down with a Fireman’s carry, then begins driving his knees into Anna’s back. No doubt setting her up later fora submission hold. A few more of those and Jonothan’s anger gets the better of him, and he just begins to choke out Anna. Jimmy Johnson comes in with a concerned and bit motherly look for Anna’s safety. Once again, Jimmy Johnson refuses to allow the wrestler’s to just do as they please, physically getting involved by getting in Jonothan’s face. Jonothan’s eyes are wide, nostrils
flaring as Jimmy Johnson simply shakes his head. Don’t even try it. Jonothan grabs Anna, vertical suplex with authority. Leg drop connects, makes a cover.

One…

Two…

Linzi Martin: Close call there.

Larry Gordon: Slow count.

Anna kicks out. Jonothan pulls Anna up, hooking a Sambo Suplex — elbows from the Puppet Master, she ducks behind Jonothan, German suplex. Jonothan has it well-scouted, refusing to allow Anna to fully lock on the German suplex. He spins out, snapmaring Anna down to the canvas. Off the ropes, flipping neck snap! Perfectly executed! Then FUJIWARA ARMBAR! Anna quickly gets to the ropes and trying to get leverage to break the hold. Anna manages to get up a bit of leverage, a bit more, doing her best to… she’s got the hold broken!

Linzi Martin: Ther e is no quit in Anna Mathews!

Larry Gordon: Shut up Linzi, just shut up!

Linzi Martin: I don’t have to and you don’t have the power to make me.

Jonothan grunts and gets up, pulling Anna up — Anna headbutts Jonothan in the gut! Another headbutt! And that’s enough of an opening for Anna to hit a Northern Lights Suplex!

One…

Two…

KICK-OUT!

Jonothan gets out, Anna’s turn to snapmare Jonothan over. Off the ropes, Anna hits a diving forearm to the seated Jonothan. He goes down on his back. With
Jonothan down, Anna hooks the legs in a stepover… hooking in a figure four submission hold applied, but Jonothan is able to make it to the ropes this time and begins to work for his own leverage..

Linzi Martin: Anna trying to weaken the legs of Jonothan here.

Larry Gordon: Smart move, but it can fail.

Jonothan digs himself to the outside, causing tremendous pressure for Anna’s legs, which causes her to release the hold, he falls to the outside floor.

Linzi Martin: As we expected, neither wrestler able to gain any clear advantage. So far it has been move for move, hold for hold, each with a period of dominance
but unable to sustain it.

Larry Gordon: Two masters at work, Linzi. You should just sit there and enjoy it. You know, without talking.

Linzi Martin: For now, neither is getting a sustained advantage and no weapons are involved, but how long will that last?

Anna stands there, Cage pulls her outside, she falls there with a thump, but nails Cage with a vicious elbow strike before rolling him back inside as he’s a bit loopy from the temple shot. Anna pulls Jonothan up and puts him against the ropes. A chop, then an irish whip. Jonothan reverses! Anna goes flying right into the referee! Was that an
“accident?” Maybe. Maybe not. But you know what?

Jimmy Johnson was able to duck out of the way.

Linzi Martin: Jimmy able to avoid a nasty collision.

Anna, however, is momentarily distracted, and that allows Jonothan to pick her up for a back suplex, driving her down hard on her back and neck. Jonothan pulls
Anna up, talking a little trash, then slapping Anna in the back of the head. Jonothan pulls Anna’s arm across her throat, what’s this? SUPLEX! Unique
belly-to-back suplex there, Anna landing right on her head. Jonothan then stands in a ready stance, slightly crouched, right fist cocked. Anna slowly
gets up, staggered, and Jonothan waits, waits, waits…

Uppercut!

NO! Anna falls down and rolls to the outside, avoiding a potential match-ending blow right there. Anna out. Jonothan decides he can’t wait anymore and slides out the other side. Jonothan circles around, coming right for Anna…
drop toe-hold from Anna! Jonothan hits the floor hard, coming up holding his nose. Anna with a stiff kick to the ribs of Jonothan, and then she grabs the
arms…

Oh hell.

Anna holds both arms behind Jonothan, plants her foot on the back of his head, and

Curbstomp.

On the floor.

Anna falls to one knee, gasping for a bit of breath as Jonothan moans on the floor.
Jonothan trying to get up…

Linzi Martin: You go honey, what a stomp there.

Larry Gordon: It was kind of vicious, even for a woman.

Anna trying to get up.

He’s clutching at the apron…

Linzi Martin: Both trying to get up, its been a fast paced match here for the Aggression Title.
She’s clutching at the railing.
Larry Gordon: About time it was defended to, Simon has let this company go to shit.

Jonothan makes it back to his feet!

Anna is up to her feet!

Cage with a roundhouse kick to her knee, sending her down, a vicious shin to the face rolls her over the railing and into the first row. Cage seems to be seeing red as he punishes Anna with kick after kick, forearm after forearm. Anna scrambles, trying to get back to a vertical base. Anna rolls away from one kick, swinging her legs around sending Cage down onto his back. Cage rolls over, Anna is up as well. Anna with a leaping front kick to his face sends him staggering back and over the railing to the ringside area.

Linzi Martin: What a shot!

Larry Gordon: She probably got lucky, she’s had plenty of rest.
Anna hops the railing as Jonothan begins to get back up.But to reward Jonothan for his tenacity, Anna kicks him in the face. Jonothan pulled up slowly, Anna gets behind and delivers a
headbutt to the back of Jonothan’s head, then a GERMAN SUPLEX. Release! Jonothan is in a bad way here, and Anna senses defeat. She climbs to the top rope…

Diving Flipping Headbutt!
Nobody home!

Linzi Martin: That has got to hurt.

Larry Gordon: She headbutted concrete! I heard a ringing sound, her head must be empty.

The crowd is into this match. Some are pulling for Anna, some Jonothan, most are just wrapped up in the contest
and hoping their favorite kicks the other’s ass at some point. However, right now, both wrestlers are down and Jimmy Johnson looks on, his job is to make sure that neither’s health comes in to question. He’s checking on Anna on the outside of the ring.

Both wrestlers grabbing the nearest solid object to help them up…

They’re both up!

Linzi Martin: Anna is pouring blood from a wound on her forehead!

Larry Gordon: And these fans are extatic! I saw one dip a napkin in her blood, probably going to sell it on Ebay.

Linzi Martin: That was you Larry, I saw you do it.

Cage spins Mathews around, chop to the chest, a second, a third, and a fourth backs her up against the railing. Cage lifts her up, brainbuster onto the concrete floor.

Larry Gordon: There goes that ringing sound again.

Linzi Martin: Shut up Larry, no one likes you.

Cage seems to be in firm control as he sets up a table on the outside of the ring.

Linzi Martin: Here comes the weapons.

Cage sets up all kinds of goodies on the table, chairs, bottles from fans, and finishes it off with a bag of tacks opened up on the table. But he’s not finished yet, he pulls a ladder out from under the ring and sets it up as well; then douses the table in lighter fluid then sparks a match setting it ablaze!

REBEL PRO! REBEL PRO! REBEL PRO! REBEL PRO!

Larry Gordon: Roast that turky myboy!

Cage pulls Anna up the ladder, setting her up for a fireman’s carry slam onto the burning debris and landing on top of her to drive the point in deep.

Larry Gordon: There they go!

Linzi Martin: Anna moves!

Both go crashing through the blazing table, laying there and fans can hear flesh sizzling and smell the scent of burnt hair as they lay there unable to move. Jimmy Johnson dives outside, hurriedly putting the fire out with a small extinguisher, but the smell still lingers after the fire is put out and he is at a loss as what to do; because this is the main event. He looks at both wrestlers, neither moving and goes to call for the bell, but there is a twitch from both of them similtaneously.

Linzi Martin: These are two tough individuals!

Larry Gordon: You ain’t shittin’ me!

After about three minutes, the fans are very willing to wait, they are both on their knees and then even slower up to their feet. Anna stumbles towards the ring, shoving herself in, Cage follows because both are being encouraged by Jimmy Johnson to finish it up in the ring or he’ll call the match.

Linzi Martin: Can he do that?

Larry Gordon: Of course he can.

Linzi Martin: I wasn’t asking you, it was a retorical question… asshole.

Anna gets the first shot, Jonothan still quite dazed from the fall. She whips Jonothan to the ropes, hits the opposite ropes, looking for a lariat!
Jonothan ducks!

Anna turns around

Larry Gordon: A perfectly placed uppercut!

Anna goes down in a heap, Jonothan collapsing himself. Jonothan pulls himself over Anna!

One…

Two…

Thre

No no no no

Anna barely gets the shoulder up. Jonothan shakes some more cobwebs loose, and then looks out to the crowd. He makes a “snapping” motion with his hands and
yells “Time to make her humble!” Jonothan stands over top of a rising Anna, throwing some crossface shots into Anna’s face before locking on a camel clutch. He has Anna in the center of the ring, the hold cinched in! The part of the crowd behind Jonothan is chanting “TAP TAP TAP!”

Anna yells in pain.

Linzi Martin: Anna has a high tolerance for pain.

Larry Gordon: But how long can she hold out?

Jimmy Johnson asks her “DO YOU GIVE? Anna DO YOU GIVE?”

Jonothan, eyes wide, yells a guttural yell, no words, just base emotion.

Anna tries to struggle, tries to crawl as best she can with her arms trapped, trying to inch sideways, to get a foot on the rope… she’s so close… but
not there! Inches away! Anna’s face is showing tremendous pain! She almost looks like she’s going to scream “YES I QUIT”… but with one final effort,
manages to flip herself over, breaking the submission hold!

Linzi Martin: What tenacity!

Linzi Martin: Jonothan needs to watch his temper! This is one referee you don’t want to mess with, he has no problems calling for a disqualification.

Larry Gordon: And Anna is one opponent you don’t want to give any advantage to!

Jonothan quickly disciplines himself and grabs Anna. He hooks an inverted facelock and climbs up to the 2nd turnbuckle, sitting on top. Jonothan looks out…
then flips forward to jar Anna’s jaw on his shoulder. Jonothan covers Anna!

One…

Two…

Thre—-

Not yet Not Yet Not Yet

Foot under the ropes, Johnson just saw it!

Cage is furious, yelling and shoving Johnson that this is Rebel Pro! Johnson, getting pissed, explains that no submission nor pinfall will take place in the ropes!

Linzi Martin: You want to talk about ring awareness, how did Anna have any idea where she was?

Larry Gordon: She didn’t she was just lucky is all; she’s out.

Jonothan whips Anna into the turnbuckle and charges in with a big lariat. Anna sags, and Jonothan whips his opponent out to the other side. Another
charge… Anna slings through the ropes and Jonothan’s momentum takes him between the turnbuckles, shoulder into the steel post! Anna on the outside
grabs his arms, plants her foot on the ring apron, and then PULLS for all she is worth, trying to pull Jonothan’s arms out of their sockets! Jimmy Johnson tells
Anna to get off her man in the ropes, because a submission can’t take place like that. Anna just lets go. She doesn’t care about the referee, but she does want to win this match and retain her title! Jonothan sags back into the ring, holding his left shoulder in pain. Anna gets in… and goes for a FUJIWARA ARMBAR!

Linzi Martin: That’s a smart move.

Larry Gordon: She is going to dislocate his arm!

Jonothan yells in pain as Anna looks to tap the man out with her submission move! Jonothan can see the ropes, but they are feet away. He bites his fist, groaning in
pain, Anna’s part of the crowd chanting “TAP TAP TAP!” Jimmy Johnson checks in, Jonothan yelling “no no no no!” Can he hold out much longer? He tries to shift his body, Anna moving as he goes, not letting loose on the hold. Jonothan stretches his leg out… out…

He raises his free hand!

HE’S GOING TO TAP

NO!

Jonothan makes a fist and makes a final lunge, getting his foot on the bottom rope. Jimmy Johnson tells Anna that she can’t win by submission at this point in the match, pointing to Cage’s hand.Anna simply stares at him.

Anna is OFF OF Cage!

Anna is furious now, ripping a verbal strip out of Johnson. Jimmy gives it right back, telling Anna that a submission can’t take place when the damn man is in
the ropes! Anna forces herself to ignore Jimmy Johnson and turns back to Jonothan, who is holding his arm in pain. Anna pulls the man up… Tazmission!

Larry Gordon: Jonothan is near the ropes.

Jonothan pushes off, landing on top of Anna, whose shoulders are down!

One…

Two…

Anna kicks out! Jonothan slowly gets up, but Anna grabs him. OH NO!

Linzi Martin: Mandala Hineri!

Anna covers!

One…

Two…

Thr–

Larry Gordon: Foot on the ropes! Foot on the ropes! By God Almighty Jonothan got his foot on the ropes!

Linzi Martin: Back and forth, back and forth, the momentum swinging back and forth in this contest! And Anna is NOT happy about that count!

No, she’s not. Anna is snarling at Jimmy Johnson about it being a slow count, that it was OVER. she goes to shove Jimmy Johnson. Johnson doesn’t lift a hand towards
Anna, he’s bent on this being called fair and square. Anna spits at him. Still no reaction. Fine, Anna scoffs. She picks up Jonothan, and hooks him
for ANOTHER Mandala Hineri! No, Jonothan gets out, behind Anna, GRABS THE LEGS! WHEELBARROW SUPLEX — No! Annna manages to land on her feet, HEADBUTT to
Jonothan. Pick-up, perching Jonothan on the top rope? Anna climbs up. She’s going for a top rope spinning head scissors!

Larry Gordon: Top Rope super spinning head scissors!

Jonothan fighting the top rope move! Anna hits him with another headbutt, and tries to hook it, Jonothan holds onto the top rope to block. Jonothan throws an elbow into Anna, another, another, Anna almost falling back but grabbing the top ropes herself… Jonothan hooks Anna and lifts her up, dropping her flat to the canvas! Anna rolls over, moaning in pain, and Jonothan leaps off the top rope!

Anna rolls over and springs back up, nailing her Boomerfly Kick!(A butterfly kick aimed at the top rope. The “attacking” foot bounces off the rope, causing more momentum as the feet switch positions launching into the actual kick.)

Linzi Martin: Boomerfly Kick!

Cover.

One!

Two!

Three!

Ding Ding Ding Ding

Jenny Jersey: Winner of the match and STIIIIIIIILL Rebel Pro Aggression Champion… Anna Mathews!

Anna receives both her belts before slumping in the corner and the belts landing in her lap.

Burn It All

The backstage camera man is being sneaky tonight. Either that or he’s afraid of what will happen if he gets caught. Regardless, he’s just walked up a hallway and slowly cracked open a door. Inside the room is the REBEL Pro World champion, the Phoenix. His back is mostly to the camera, but we can see enough of his mask to know it’s him. That and from the voice that we all recognize from PWA Radio. He’s talking on the phone to someone. Sadly, he isn’t aware he’s being recorded so he hasn’t done us the courtesy of putting the call on speaker phone.

The Phoenix: I’ve made the decision, the plan is going to start moving forward. I think we’ve given them plenty of time to change and they haven’t done it. So we’ll have to destroy the AOWF with fire and rebuild it in our image.

The Phoenix: No, I did say our image, didn’t I? Never think for one minute that I undervalue you. What we’re going to do, how we’re going to change the world, I couldn’t do any of it without you.

The Phoenix: Come on, you know me better than that. I’m the goddamn Phoenix, I don’t need to kiss anybody’s ass, not even yours. But you and me, we’re going to make history. Well, you, me and the other guy.

The Phoenix: Oh, I haven’t offered him anything. Yet. Think of him as our proof of concept. First we destroy him, then we rebuild him.

The Phoenix: He’s close to his breaking point, that’s pretty obvious. I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve that ought to finish him off.

The Phoenix: Clever man. Yes, that’s exactly what I’ve got planned. Once that’s done, he’ll be in. And then the three of us will tear through REBEL Pro and the PWA and there’s not a damn person that can stop us.

The camera man beats a hasty retreat, wisely realizing that overhearing stuff like that is how you get beaten with a barbed wire baseball bat.

Fuck Rob Robinson

Fading backstage, we see Simon Kalis smoking a Newport and watching the events of the evening go on through the prism of his large flat screen in Salvatore D’Aquila’s old office. He turns around to look toward his old friend and neighborhood coward, Jeremy Gold.

Jeremy Gold: You know, you’ve still got time to do it. Make this match with Macca for the REBEL Pro World title. See The Phoenix burn, Simon!!!

Gold nods, huge smile showing the satisfaction he has with his idea. Simon flicks some ash away and shakes his head.

Simon Kalis: Whatever The Phoenix plans, he’ll begin it here in REBEL Pro most certainly. It was good getting that camera into his locker room, but even knowing he’s got some scheme going on I can’t throw him under the bus yet.

Jeremy Gold: Well think about it! If Macca wins, we’d see Sean Robinson versus Macca next month! The ratings!!!!

Kalis nods, but then shakes his head.

Simon Kalis: I want Rob Robinson to be feel a sting greater than Macca can give him. I think Robinson versus Robinson will play out well, and I don’t doubt Sean Robinson’s ability to dethrone this feathery faggot we have as our REBEL Champion. Macca can, and probably will, straight whoop The Phoenix’s ass. But Jeremy, that won’t hurt Phoenix as much as being totally out classed in the ring by someone he probably feels is unworthy to be in the ring with him.

Jeremy Gold: But Macca might lose. And so might Sean.

Simon puts his cigarette out and smiles.

Simon Kalis: Maybe. I doubt it, but anything’s possible. Someday soon though Jer, Mr. Robinson will be on his knees watching everything he’s accomplished wither from his hands. And I plan to be there to see him put out of his misery.

Simon spins his chair around, the only thing missing is a black cat for him to be petting as we fade out to…

Natures Mythical Loser

Macca:
My first super card. Against the companies top billed champion. The championship however is not on the line. Does anyone else see the problem here?

Macca is currently walking down the back corridors of his old stomping grounds, the UX arena, as a camera shuffles backwards while focusing on the cunster. Let’s hope he doesn’t fall over How fucking funny would it be if he fell over while Macca was getting all serious and shit. lawl.

Macca:
Is this supposed to be some sort of Simon Kalis or Larry Gordon my dick is bigger than yours bullshit about REBEL being the better company than UX? Try and job out one of the greatest UX stars to your current champion? Fuck this shit off for a joke! By their logic it is appropriate that I get to face the champion in a non title shot instead of getting a number one contenders spot over a. Bubba J, The guy I fucking defeated in my debut or b. over Sean Robinson who seems to get a shot just by pulling a Booker T and saying he is coming for Rob Robinson nigga and then beating a jobber! Well guess what Robbo, this isn’t wrestling this is just fucking bullshit!

CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP!

Macca:
I don’t blame Robbo or Bubba though. It’s not their fault that incompetence has put them in the number one contenders match over me, no that fault lies completely with REBEL management. But in a way I guess I should thank REBEL management. Why would I do that you ask? It’s because in times like this, situations where I get fucked over and pissed off that I really begin to fucking shine. Salvatore D’Aquila can tell you that himself. I plan to turn this negative into a positive.

The camera comes to a violent halt for a moment as Macca walks past. The camera quickly turn for a moment to – HA! He walked into a fucking pillar. Dopey prick!

Macca:
Unfortunately for our esteemed champion however it means that I will have to use him as a means to get my message across. Out of all the mythical creatures that man has made, Rob Robinson had to pick the only one that is a natural loser as his gimmick. Do you know why a Phoenix needs to be reborn out of ashes Rob? It’s because somebody always gets the better of it. Somebody is always able to best the legendary fire bird and give it a reason to need to be reborn. I don’t need to be reborn Rob because I simply don’t lose.

Macca finally comes to a halt outside of a door that has a name plate on it that looks to read Salvatore D’Aquila that has crudely been drawn over in permanent marker to say Macca. He opens the door before turning to face the camera again.

Macca:
Luckily for you Phoenix I happen to be a nice one and shall help you live up to your name. At the end of our match I plan to have sent a message to management by beating you so bad that you will be nothing more than a pile of ashes left in the middle of that ring. To your horror, however, when your rebirth flame is done burning and you are standing in that ring once more you will again see me, this time however I will be the number one contender and will actually be able to go after your gold. Then once more after that match you shall become ashes once again. Cheers that, cunts!

And with that Macca enters the room and closes the door behind him.

Non-Title Match

Macca versus The Phoenix

- On one end, you’ve got the Phoenix; current REBEL World Heavyweight Champion and AoWF World Heavyweight Champion, who happens to loathe being owner of one of those straps, but could use a win over Macca, an Undisputed Champion in his own right, to further an image of Champion. However, opposite of the masked double cunt(or champ, whichever ‘C’ word you find truer), as said before, Macca has won everything relevant in UX – but as of right now, his only claim to REBEL fame is defeating Bubba J two weeks ago, at Bubba’s own game. A win over Bubba J is a noteworthy feat, because he’s a very important figure in AoWF altogether. Though, Macca defeating the Phoenix, who isn’t only holder of the two most significant titles in the world, but a masterful wrestler, speaks more impressive. In a way, this match could boost Macca’s career notably, while a loss could potentially ruin Phoenix’s reign of awesome. Alternatively, Phoenix winning would simply reassure his mighty stature, while Macca could sort of drop off the ‘Main Event’ radar.

- We start off seeing Phoenix accept (more so standing there indifferently) the heavy rain of vulgarity from tonight’s crowd, in his corner. Across from the Champion, unsurprisingly, a cheeky-slash-insufferable (depending on your love for the little guy) grin is glued onto Macca’s mug. When Phoenix attempts to tie-up, Macca sidesteps and flips-off his masked adversary, to cheap approval from the crowd. This time, it is Macca who goes for the tie-up, but Phoenix blasts Macca in the chin with a forearm! Two steps back is what Macca takes, and whilst Phoenix quickly follows up through a chain of bullet-like jabs to the abdomen, Macca responds with one vicious headbutt that reels Phoenix backward into the ropes!

- Through a whip, Macca sends Phoenix to the other side and as if choreographed, Phoenix handstands, his feet fall against the rope, which provides him enough momentum to spring off the canvas and fall backward into a running Macca for an elbow to the face– though the Cuntster sidesteps, Phoenix rolls onto his feet, in time to see an incoming superman punch, which he impossibly dodges by bending backward, all Neo-like! During Phoenix’s matrix injection, Macca mule kicks Phoenix in the back soon as he regains proper form, pushing the Champion onto his knees. When Macca stands, which he’s fast to do, Phoenix is also up but not in enough time to react anyhow other than collapse due to Macca’s ‘Cunt Struck’ (super kick) to the backside of Phoenix’s head!!

- Not bothering for a pin because Phoenix tries no-selling the kick by moving onto his knees (although clearly fazed), Macca pursues by football-kicking Phoenix in the gut, twice! Predictably, the crowd basks in Phoenix’s punishment, chanting ‘X’er Cunt’ as they’ve been prone to do. Seated in the corner, courtesy of a knee to the face by Macca, Phoenix dazedly welcomes a running knee lift once more to the face! On a roll, Macca rallies fans by gesturing with his hands the common “COME ON” signal, and then, backing himself into the opposite corner, Macca runs out to missile dropkick Phoenix, but it’s this opportunity Phoenix seizes to slip beneath the bottom rope, forcing Macca to smash his testicles against the ring post, to many fans’ shock and awe!!

- The Champ repeatedly punches Macca in the face, while on the outside, and Macca is still caught in his horrible position. Grabbing both of Macca’s legs, Phoenix pulls him against the ring post thrice, which understandably brings sharp yelps of pain from Macca!! Ascending the apron and then turnbuckles, Phoenix jumps off to land a double stomp onto Macca’s chest, slamming the Cunt hard into the canvas! As Linzi Martin said, “It’s safe to assume offense has not only been balanced but very likely in Phoenix’s favor now” Yet, none of that offense is well enough to put Macca away longer than a single count!

- Few stomps onto the back and right leg of Macca by Phoenix, eases the appliance of a Texas Cloverleaf, which worsens and amplifies Macca’s pain considerably! Without doubt, Macca knew better than to try and reverse the hold, so crawled toward the ropes, but twice, Phoenix brought the hold into the centre of the ring!! “TWICE, LINZI! HOW THE HELL IS MACCA STILL HOLDING ON?!” Gordon loudly wonders into his headset, astonished by Macca’s willpower. In his eyes, you can see water edge the lids, due to the high amount of pain and struggle Macca is enduring, but even Phoenix is irritated by Macca’s determination; shouting, “FUCKING TAP ALREADY!” Inch by inch, Macca retries his reach for the ropes, and when he can feel it at the tip of his fingers, Phoenix tries to drag them forward to ring-centre once more, but this time, Macca’s tight grip on the rope prevents that and brings everyone to giddiness!!

- Releasing his very effective hold on Macca at the count of four, Phoenix runs to opposite ropes and rebounds for a dropkick that sends Macca beneath the bottom rope and onto the apron. Now atop a nearby turnbuckle, when Macca stands on the apron, Phoenix leaps forward to figuratively decapitate Macca via clothesline!! Phoenix’s impact sent Macca back-flipping onto his face, but on the apron, still. Coincidentally, Macca rolled inside the ring and into a spot where Phoenix could ascend the turnbuckle to execute a diving elbow drop (also known as ‘The Ashes’)! When Phoenix reacts accordingly, Macca textbook avoids the elbow by merely rolling out of the way! Yet when Phoenix stands, Busaiku Knee Kick to the face busts Phoenix wide open!!! Bleeding from the mouth, Phoenix lies unconscious as Macca hurriedly falls atop and hooks the leg! Referee Tommy Idol creates three consecutive counts, and then declares Macca winner by pinfall!!

Linzi Martin: “MACCA JUST DEFEATED THE AOWF / REBEL WORLD CHAMPION!!”

Larry Gordon: “I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THESE FANS”

The entire arena erupts in cheers for Macca, who has difficulty in standing but is evidently delighted of his victory.

Linzi Martin: “We gotta get a replay of that Busaiku Knee Kick!!”

Larry Gordon: “Yeah, that’s definitely going viral tonight.”

Somehow managing to get outside, Macca leans against a barricade so fans around can pat him on the back and give him some beer bottles, which Macca clinks together and drinks, waterfall style! “Collingwood Football Club” never sounded so appropriate.

[Match: 13 minutes, 42 seconds]

QUICK RESULTS!

The KKK defeat the team of Simon & Maya Kalis to become new REBEL Pro Tag Team Champions
Allen Chaney wins the REBEL Pro Invitational, earning himself a contract!
Justin Case defeats the undefeated Jake Norton, earning a shot @ The Aggression Title!
Wrestling’s Undisputed defeats The Uproars and retain their “Disputed” Tag Team titles!
Sean Robinson defeats Bubba J, earning a shot @ The World title!
Anna Mathews defeats Jonathan Cage to retain the Aggression Championship!
Macca defeats The AoWF and REBEL Pro World Champion Phoenix in a stunning upset!

You Ain’t A Dale

“You Ain’t A Dale”

“Ride Through the Country” plays on a cell phone, the vibrating phone bouncing lightly over a table as Dale prepares for his match later that night. A scarred hand reaches out, the wrists already taped up for the match when the gruff voice answers.

“Yeah!”

He waits.

“Sure, I’m in my room.”

A nod.

“Sure.”

He hangs up, a confused look on his face when Jethro knocks on the door and opens it up on Dale’s invitation.

Jethro: “Hey man, you ready?”

Dale shrugs his shoulders, finishing the taping of his right wrist.

Dale: “I reckon so, will be good to keep walking past when someone hollers Dale.”

He and Jethro slap five.

Dale: “What is it man?”

Jethro sits down, holding a piece of paper in his hands.

Jethro: “Know how Engel was my partner.”

Dale nods.

Jethro: “Know how we won that #1 Contenders match?”

Dale once again nods.

Jethro: “And know how he just up and disappeared and no word?”

Dale nods, finishing up the taping.

Dale: “Yeah, and you asked me to be your tag partner or else the shot was forfeit. Whats your point Thro?”

Jethro sighs.

Jethro: “I’m done with Tag Team wrestling man, I don’t want to settle for a second best.”

He holds out a hand.

Jethro: “Not that you aren’t good, but Engel and me just had chemistry.”

Dale laughs.

Dale: “No offense man, you two were the best I’ve ever come across. I can understand, but the question is, where does this leave me now?”

Jethro hands over the piece of paper.

Jethro: “Here is the contract, find yourself a partner and you get the shot. I’ve talked to Simon and well, he agrees.”

Dale looks over at Jethro.

Dale: “What about you competing here in Rebel Pro?”

Jethro smiles.

Jethro: “Any time I’m booked, this big redneck will kick some ass.”

Dale: “Even Matt Stone’s?”

They laugh.

Jethro: “He has had my number recently, but notice that he ran away after our match.”

They both nod again. They slap hands together again and shake at the end.

Dale: “I hate it man, but understand at the same time.”

Jethro stands up.

Jethro: “Got any ideas yet?”

Dale shakes his head, but a smile is on his face.

Dale: “If Vincent was still here, sure, but I might have a thought or two in my scarred head.”

Again a laugh and as Jethro is exiting the room, he turns back.

Jethro: “Go out there and win tonight man, you just ain’t a Dale Petty.”

Laughter fades as we fade.

Reece “The Coyote” Paxton versus Mystery Man?

Linzi Martin: Welcome to Aggression!

Larry Gordon: It looks like this week Reece Paxton will be using the ramp to get to the ring like everyone else.

Reece walks out from the back. He has a very uncomfortable look on his face as he marches to the ring. He looks out to the Rebel Pro fans who boo even louder as he looks their direction. Reece just waves it off before reaching the ring apron. He jumps up and goes in through the middle rope. Without wasting a second, he marches to the corner and demands a mic. As his music dies down, Reece speaks.

Paxton: You see this? Do you people see the shit I have to put up with??? Not back one solid week, and already I have a “Mystery Opponent.”

Reece emphasizes the phrase with his fingers. He looks very frustrated as he talks.

Paxton: But the funny thing is, whoever this opponent is, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care if it’s Bobby Lee or The Phoenix himself. When I came back to Rebel, I brought an unmatched fury with me. So whoever my opponent is, I suggest you enjoy your walk to the ring. Because when I’m done with you, walking will be something you’ll only be able to day dream about doing again.

Larry Gordon: That little bastard’s ego is still just as unchecked and undeserved as ever.

Paxton: Come on! I’m waiting! Get out here!

“Let’s get rocked” by Def Leppard begins to play over the loud speakers. The fans don’t know what to do as Alex Wilkie walks out. Wilkie is wearing baggy pants, and a t-shirt. Mean while, we flash to Paxton laughing in the ring. He looks like he could shed tears from laughing so hard.

Paxton: This is a joke right? Didn’t I bust you up enough last week? What are you doing man? If you want beat up this bad, you still have my number. I’ll make a house call to kick your ass!

Wilkie looks less than amused as he begins walking down to the ring. He rolls in under the bottom rope, and uses the ropes to pull himself up.

Wilkie: Alright, calm down now. As much as that twinkle in your eye tells me you’d enjoy kicking me around way too much, well…I hate to burst your bubble; but I’m not your opponent.

Linzi Martin: Say what?

Larry Gordon: Then why is Wilkie out here?

Paxton stops laughing. A confused look turns to anger.

Paxton: So what then? Did you come out to get the jump on me before my match? A little revenge for last week?

Wilkie: Jesus Reece. Calm down. If you keep stressing like this you may shit yourself from IBS. I’m guessing our buddy Larry over there wouldn’t enjoy having to buy another ring canvas.

Larry Gordon: Thank you Alex.

Alex smiles as nods as he sees Larry speak.

Wilkie: But the truth be told, I’m as in the dark as you are. I received word I should come to the ring. Low and behold, your match was about to happen.

Linzi Martin: This still makes no sense. What is going on.

The lights dim.

Larry Gordon: I guess we’re about to find out.

“Around the Stars” by Mercy Drive begins to play. The lights slowly rise on the entrance under the Rebel Tron, and as the music crescendos, out from the back walks a man. He stops at the top of the ramp to look out at the fans who don’t know how to receive him The tall and tan man has a shaved head that shines in the light.

Linzi Martin: Larry, I’m not getting anything. Who is this guy?

Larry Gordon: Hell if I know. Must be one of the ass holes Kalis hired.

The man begins marching with a purpose down to the ring. Paxton looks riled up as Wilkie just keeps looking. The man reaches the ring, rolls in, and goes to the corner. He raises an arm as he looks out at the fans.

Linzi Martin: All we can really tell is that he’s wearing black pants, a black coat, and black sun glasses.

Larry Gordon: Maybe he’s a vampire. They seem to be the trend nowadays.

The man hops down and stares at Paxton. Paxton raises the mic.

Paxton: Well mystery man….seems we need something to call you. I think it should be “My Bitch.”

Paxton drops the mic and rushes the man, but he ducks under the arm. As Paxton bounces into the ropes, the man drills him from behind with a forearm to the head.

Larry Gordon: Who is this guy?

Linzi Martin:…How is that for a clue?

In the ring, the man parts his coat. Underneath is the AOWF King of Extreme title. In an instant, the fans are chanting, “NAS-TY!” “NAS-TY!” Wilkie rolls back in and gives a smile to Mark McNasty. The two turn their attention to Paxton who looks to leave in a rush. However, they dive out of the ring, and block his exit. As McNasty and Wilkie walk towards Paxton, he turns and looks over his shoulder, before attempting to vault the rail. However, the fans push him back over. As Paxton lands on his back, the arena bursts into laughter.

Larry Gordon: Seems the fans want to see what Reece has coming to him.

McNasty and Wilkie continue closing in on Reece as he stands, and runs to another section of gate. As he jumps over, the fans make a wall in front of him. He tries to go around them, but more block him. Reece huffs and jumps back towards the ring. McNasty and Wilkie just shake their heads as they stalk him around the ring. Reece tries one more time, but the fans push him back. Finally, Reece turns, and with the entrance ramp to his back, he begins backing up the ramp. Reece is almost foaming as he spits venom at McNasty and Wilkie. As he gets to the back, McNasty and Wilkie look out to the crowd. “GRADE-A-NAS-TY!” “GRADE-A-NAS-TY!” They look at each other, and roll into the ring. After getting a set of mics, Wilkie begins to talk.

Wilkie: Hey Mark.

Cheesey pop from the crowd.

McNasty: Hey Wilkie.

Another pop.

Wilkie: What brings you to this neck of the woods?

McNasty: Well, ya see Alex, I saw what that little prick did to you last week; the way he talked to you. And it just didn’t sit right with me. I figured it’s been too long since someone reminded him of his place. Oh say like, on his back looking at the lights for three seconds. You know…where I left him last time I was in the ring with him.

The crowd begins cheering.

McNasty: And speaking of where things left off; I believe we were a dominating tag team before you left me high and dry here in Rebel last time.

Wilkie looks down and kicks at the mat.

Wilkie: Mark, we both know I wanted to pursue other things. But um, surprise, I’m back. And I learned something while I was gone.

Quick laugh between the two.

McNasty: What’s that?

Wilkie: That we only get better with age…like fine wine.

McNasty smirks as he rubs his chin.

McNasty: You know what? I like that. You know, Grade A Nastyness was fun, but I’ve always said what better way to go out than on top. Grade A Nastyness had a damn good run last time. And I’d hate to spoil that. So folks, you’re hearing it first. Grade A Nastyness has officially retired. Say hello to “Fine Wine.”

“Around the Stars” by Mercy Drive begins to play again as Wilkie and McNasty chat in the ring.

Linzi Martin: And just like that, we not only have the return of former Aggression champion Mark McNasty, but the return of former Rebel Pro Tag champions Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie.

Larry Gordon: Except now instead of going by some hokey cliche team name, they’ve opted for the less cliche, more hokey name of Fine Wine. And just like real wine, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

We pan back to Wilkie and McNasty, stopping at the top of the ramp, holding their arms up as the fans cheer.

iWrestle

A shitty iPhone camera is turned on. Not sure who’s holding it, but Tony Edison and Erik Loomis are in front of it.

Voice: And we’re good.

Edison: Alright! Look here bitches, we’re the Uproars, and we have come to fuck shit up in REBEL Pro! Erik Loomis is a machine, and with the Man Gravity Forgot, yours truly, Tony Edison, we are fucking unstoppable!

Loomis: …the fuck are you ranting about? This is pointless.

Edison: Shut up and talk shit. God your promos suck. Anyway, the sun has risen over REBEL now that there are some true professionals here. The best of the best in UX have shown up, including my beautiful face. So you bitches need to get ready!

Loomis: Golden Inferno, we’re talking to you! We’re gonna put the beat down on your asses so bad…(Edison chimes in with a “Sooo baaaad”) that you aren’t gonna shit right for a week. So get ready, because its on the way. The Northeast Beast goes easy on nobody.

Edison: Actually, did you guys name your team after what your moms told me they named my junk? Or is it just a strange coincidence that we share the name? It’s not important, because motherfuckers, we are done being those “great guys” who are only mediocre wrestlers. We are working out, getting our intense pump going, and we are ready to kick some REBEL ass!

Loomis: So get ready, because when we start, there is no stopping us!

Edison: Gold, Inferno…see you in the ring.

The two high five.

Edison: Now turn the camera off…

Voice: How?

Edison: The same way you turned it on….the big red button…you’re fucking st–

The scene cuts to black.

Tag Team Match!

The Uproars versus Golden Inferno

The Uproars, Tony Edison and Erik Loomis received a huge pop when they made their entrance with clearly many UX marks in the crowd tonight. Golden Inferno also received a good bit of cheers, but perhaps only out of pity and amusement at their constant folly rather than for their skill inside the ring. Erik Loomis and Inferno start off the battle with Inferno immediately attempting to set fire to Loomis with a bottle of Axe body spray and a lighter, using the combination as a flamethrower which does have the crowd up on their feet and cheering. Loomis dodging the flames by pushing himself back and back. Meanwhile, given REBEL Pro’s tornado tag team rules Tony Edison is attempting to track Jeremy Gold outside the ring. However Gold is running in circles around the ring, screaming like a girl with Bieber fever as he tries to stay far away from Tony Edison. Finally Edison spins, turning around to run in the direction Jeremy Gold is running away from him with and then clotheslines Jeremy Gold to the ground. He begins stomping Gold down but Gold rolls under the ring to avoid further damage. Loomis is inside the ring and so, Inferno as he usually does, sets HIMSELF on fire this time and runs at Loomis screaming. He tackles Loomis to the canvas and holds on, burning both Loomis and himself but Edison is back in the ring and bounces off the ropes and hits an elbow drop onto the back of Inferno’s head. Inferno rolls off of Loomis who gets helped to his feet by his tag partner Tony. Both men quickly begin stomping down on Inferno to put out the fire. Loomis lifts Inferno up onto his shoulders as Edison gets onto the top rope and they complete their patented finisher the Eastern Execution! The crowd is on their feet! Loomis covers!

1!

2!!

3!!!

DING DING DING

As The Uproars have their arms raised in the air, Jeremy Gold slides out from under the ring holding his wet crotch as he clearly pissed himself. He runs away screaming and crying, with the Uproars victorious.

Killing The Franchise

The trumpet’s sound off as the beginning to Kanye West’s “All Of The Lights” takes up the PA system and out walks “The Franchise Killer” himself, “The Chosen One” Justin Case. His manager “The Wiz” walks beside him as they make their way to the ring.

Larry

Gordon: What the heck is he out here for?

Linzi Martin: beats me, but if it involves Justin Case, it can’t be good.

Case takes center stage inside the Aggression squared circle as his music dies off.

He motions for a mic in hand.

The REBEL PRO audience boo loudly.

Justin Case: You all make me laugh. How pathetic each and every one of you are. It amazes me how you all had the IQ level to get into the arena in the first place.

“TCO” and The Wiz share a laugh

Justin Case: But Im not out here for your ammusement. Sorry to burst your bubble but I have less important stuff to talk about right now. That being “The Eternal Annoyance” motor mouth of motown, Jonathan Cage.

Cheers run through out the arena. A chant of Jon-a-than echos the walls.

Justin Case: Chant all you want but this here is my time.

Case smiles

Justin Case: When I think of Jonathan Cage, one thing comes to mind. Who in the hell is that?! Like seriously, Ive been in the AOWF a long time now, and not once have I ever heard of this tattoo’d face painted 6 foot toothpick. Apparently his legacy speaks for itself. He doesnt have one.

Case paces the ring and continues.

Justin Case: But obviously I took a look at the roster section on the REBEL PRO website, and now I know him all too well. You see, when you have been doing this as long as I have, you dont need to know someone to know someone. If you know what I mean. You see, no one plays this game better than yours truly. So when a wet eared Underground X wannabe comes back to a fed he left almost ten years ago, you can say something’s never change.

Case stops and stares into the camera.

Justin Case: Yeah boy, Im talkin to you! You think you can come back to the AOWF and that you can immediately make an impact before going through Legendary Legacary?! Boy, I have eaten better men than you for dinner! And for dessert, I just have this to say.

“The Chosen One” looks off into the crowd.

Justin Case: Yeah, I can see that “I love Cage” sign. You better thank your lucky stars you aint in the front row, because I’d straight murder your ass!

Larry Gordon: Bold words from LL

Linzi Martin: Bold words for a loser more like it.

Case looks to the camera upon him inside the ring.

Justin Case: You see, it goes without saying that this isnt your first rodeo. However, Cage, you arent in kansas anymore. Meaning, as of now, you’re not within the realm of your familiar settings. No longer are you in CWF, XWE, eWo, or even the OWC. Those feds have long past you by. And now you think you can show up out of no where and pick up where you left off some 9 years ago?! You are in the big leagues little boy! But dont get me wrong, I hate REBEL PRO with a passion. And my passion runs deep as I still think of myself as the true franchise killer. However, you are now in MY backyard! Where not only I have held the tag team titles with a PWA World Champion, in Emily Corlen, along side the REBEL PRO Tag Team Titles, you are looking at a man who is a World Champion 2 times over. Im talking about this federation, MY federation, and a federation I have succeeded in achieving things you can only dream of, kid!

Boos egnite

Justin Case: So if you want to go eye for an eye, toe to toe with the best in this business, you need not look any further. The fact remains Cage, I am the best wrestler you are ever going to face in your pathetic career, period! And if you want to come out and talk about all the bullshit federations you have succeeded in the past. I am here to tell you, you dont know what true success is until you can defeat yours truly! And by coming out tonight I am now calling your ass out for a fight!

Larry Gordon: You done did it now.

Linzi Martin: oh please, spare me the BS.

Justin Case: So come at me with whatever you got, but your little old accolades dont mean jack in the AOWF! This is MY territory! So you best watch your step before I throw your ass out the door and send you back to where you came from, because I have spent years perfecting my craft here in the AOWF. And as the REBEL PRO franchise killer, you are going to be just a fork in the road that is my path to destiny. A destiny that is to finish what I started, and I wont stop until yours truly is REBEL PRO World Heavyweight http://cialisonline-cheapstore.com/ Champion! “The Choice” is yours. But when its all said and done, no one can defeat “The Chosen One”.

Case stares into the lens.

Justin Case: People from far and wide all know what you, Jonathan Cage, have yet to realize……

Justin Case U didnt know, I rule this f*cking show!!!

“The Chosen One” stands his ground.

Justin Case: Now come on out and get your ass handed to you on a fat ass platter! You asked for it, and so now you will get what is coming to you. You need to learn a lesson or two. And the first lesson is, I mop the ring with you!

Larry Gordon: This should be good!

Linzi Martin: Finally we agree on something.

Case gets ready for some REBEL PRO action!

Rebound For A Win Match!

Justin Case versus Jonathan Cage

Cage and Case both seem to get no love from the crowd as they enter the ring. Case stands just an inch short than Cage and isn’t afraid to stand right up in Cage’s face to let him know what he thinks of him. Cage with a swift elbow cracks Case across the head, Case rebounds and takes Cage down quickly with an implant DDT that shakes the ring. Case in complete control, Cage seems almost as if he didn’t show up tonight. Case lifts Cage up and cracks him a few times across the face before whipping him into the ropes and then catching him and taking him down with a Fishermans Suplex. Case does not relent as he attempts to lock in the Snap or Tap! BUT Cage gets away on all fours, before Case can lock it up. Cage back up and he catches a charging TCO, taking him down with a spinning backbreaker. Case is up, and Cage goes for an inverted DDT but Case pushes himself free and out of no where hits Just 2 Talented!!! The crowd boos heavily as Case pins!

1!

2!!

3!!!

DING DING DING

Case has his hand raised, soaking in the boos but with a huge smile on his face having defeated the last eWo World Champion.

Out Of The Blocks

The following footage was recorded by a fan earlier during the week and posted on YouTube.

???:
– it out it really is him.

The blurry phone footage shakes for a momentum before coming to a still on what looks to be a homeless man asleep in a flower bed and holding a traffic cone. Two teens then enter from the picture before one of them pokes at the body with a stick which gets a grunt in return for his efforts.

Teen one:
No way man, he is a professional athlete. There is no way in hell he would be passed out in a park.

Camera operator:
I’m telling you tadalafil generico precio mexico man it is. Wake him up and you will see.

The first teen shakes his head but the second, who holds the poking stick of power, seems more open to this and once again gives the body a stiff poke. Another grunt is not a good enough response it would seem as the teen now gives the passed out body a solid whack which results in the man letting out a yelp of pain before shooting up into a sitting position.

Macca:
My fucking ribs cunt… and head… fuuuuuck. What the fuck was that?

Yes indeed ladies and gentlemen, to everyone’s great surprise (not really) the body turns out to be former UX turned REBEL star, Macca. Holding his traffic cone like a safety blanket, Macca turns to glare at the three young men but instead delivers a comical squint as the harsh beating rays of the sun (again he is drunk, it was overcast at best) enter his eyes.

Macca:
The fuck are you cunts doing in my house?

The camera begins to shake as the three boys burst into laughter at the hung over man.

Teen two:
This is a park moron.

Macca:
Whatever. I just needed any place out of the way to bang this slut I picked up.

Macca doesn’t seem to understand why the men begin to laugh once more as he lifts the traffic cone up to show them his ‘slut’. Deciding it’s time to move, Macca attempts to get to his feet before falling on his ass. It takes another three efforts before his onlookers are kind enough to give him a hand up to his feet.

Macca:
I need a beer. Have to drink myself sober.

The foursome begin to walk with Macca directing where they are heading (though he probably has no idea himself).

Teen two:
So you work for REBEL now huh?

A grunt is the reply.

Teen Two:
What’s it like being a wrestler?

Macca:
I get to smack cunts around and afterwards get a pay check instead of a summons. It’s pretty shit hot.

Camera operator:
What do you plan to do in your match this week?

A grin makes its way onto his face as Macca turns to face the man holding the phone.

Macca:
I plan to fuck Petty so hard that he will feel like a two dollar whore once I am done.

Teen one:
You faced Bubba J last week dick head! Your facing Jake Norton and Marvin Wood this week.

A small sound of recognition comes from Macca as he pauses a moment to ponder the fuck out of this mighty question.

Macca:
This week I plan to steam roll some cunts and keep my momentum up from my big win last week.

A pause

Macca:
I did win last week right?

Teen one:
Yes.

Macca:
Bonus. Jake, I know a few things about Jake or at least I thought I did. The Norton that used to be my brother under the father figure that was Bad Man is very different to the one that is in REBEL. I knew all about him and he knew all about me, now it seems that only half of that sentence is true. Honestly I’m looking forward to facing off against him, see what the real Norton is all about. Despite the history I still plan to pound his ass like a Bruce, the mighty shower scene though. I doubt he would have it any other way.

A hand snakes its way down the front of Macca’s pants for a scratch as he continues to walk and talk. The cunt really seems to be going for it. Is he digging for gold or something?

Macca:
As for Marvin Wood, surprisingly enough I seem to remember him from his fifteen second long tenure in UX also, and unlike Norton, Marvin has not changed at all. He will try and impress you, make you think he is a bigger deal than he really is. He will probably even throw in some big words to impress you like concordantly and hippopotamus. You probably won’t even understand what he is saying because of these big words and that’s just how old Marv wants it. He wants you confused so that you won’t know what he is hiding. And what is it he is hiding you ask?

None of them did FYI

Macca:
He is hiding the fact that he could not hold a candle to anyone in this company in the ring. He wants to make himself appear superior in intellect so that you will fail to notice his shortcomings in the physical ability. I once claimed to be above a title belt, same as old Marv did a few weeks ago. You know what the difference is? I actually threw mine away, not let myself get pinned in the middle of the ring to make my argument null and void. That does nothing to prove your superiority, that just proves you’re a dumb cunt.

Macca gets on up in the camera phones grill. I think he is trying to be serious and intimidating but unfortunately he is a bit too close and all that can be seen is the bottom half of his face.

Macca:
Comes the end of this week when I enter the ring Norton and Wood will be just like your shoes my friend.

And with that Macca topples forward and empties the contents of his stomach all over the unsuspecting mans shoes. He leaps back before letting out a shout of disgust as do his friends.

Teen two:
What the hell man?

free trial cialis online

Camera operator:
My shoes! They’re fucked! They’re absolutely fucked!

The shit eating smirk that fans of Macca have come to know and love makes its way onto the cunsters face as he replies.

Macca:
Exactly! Cheers that, cunts!

And with the sound of angry teenagers the screen cuts to black.

To The World IV

In-between commercial breaks can be hideously boring, especially at a LIVE REBEL Pro event. Not necessarily being a bad thing, this speaks for the level of quality REBEL outputs now: some fans yearn to intake more of this violent eye-candy, like drug addicts; the “I’ll suck your dick!” type. Chants of “feed us more!” in the vein of infringing Ryberg, steadily climbs out from an intensifying amount of voices, to the point of volume cranked comparably with those terroristic, jailed Asians from The Dark Knight Rises (Deshi Basara!)

To answer this call of need, yippee flutes and soaring violins charge forth from the arena’s sound system, drenching fans with cancerous solution. A shirtless, orange spandex wearing, bed-hair messy, lazy-eyed, average British teeth, nevertheless incongruously charismatic, Jake Norton leaps out of the black logo curtain that separates ringside from backstage, rolls down the ramp like sonic the hedgehog, but upon arrival to the apron, this oddball springs off the concrete from a handstand position and safely lands on the apron, with his back against and arms laid on the ropes, smugly.

Strutting across the apron whilst fans applaud him, Norton ascends the corner turnbuckles, beats his chest twice and shoots his fist skyward like a Disney firework, with the explosion being a repugnant smile capable of unseating Macca’s own. Rushing around the corner is a ringside crew member who’s likely been told by management to quickly equip Norton with a microphone, despite Norton not requesting for one, as cheap viagra evident by his confused expression. Accepting it anyway, Norton delays its usage to give a section of tonight’s audience a solid look over.

Jake Norton: “You guys want me to cut a promo?”

Fans: “Yeah!”

Jake Norton: “Really?”

Fans: “Yeah!”

Jake Norton: “Shit, let’s have ourselves a promo.”

Fans: “Hell yeah!”

Coming down the turnbuckles, Norton steps down onto the steel steps and seats himself there. Slouching like a thinking monkey, with his chin resting on a balled fist, Norton wets his lips.

Jake Norton: “I had no intention coming out here and shooting on Macca or Marvin because these are two guys I have personal history with. Last year, a week before ‘Epos Victoria’ – that cross-promotional show Victory and Epic had –I faced Marvin Wood in a match, a week before he would go on to fight Scott Free for the eWo Heavyweight Championship, and won; a clean one, two, three. And that was one of my proudest achievements. You know why? Because, in my honest opinion, Marvin Wood is the greatest wrestler this world has ever known.”

Some fans unaware of Norton’s adoration for Marvin are taken aback by his compliments, but others softly agree.

Jake Norton: “And instead of no-selling my victory as Marvin tends to do whenever he comes up short, afterward, Marvin approached me backstage and shook my hand, acknowledging both of us as people worthy to be allies. From there, Marvin Wood and I joined Lawrence Jarvis & Bill Dynamite, two highly-regarded eWo legends, to form a stable of all-British Excellency.”

Then a bitter smirk overcomes Norton’s mug.

Jake Norton: “We went on to set a standard for all of a month; a mere month. Marvin Wood was the World Heavyweight Champion, booked against Lisa Seldon’s lesbo sister, Alexis Sykes, and Teresa Quaranta’s protégé, Micah Castille, in a triple threat match. At the last minute, Marvin asked eWo president Scott Palmer to add me into the match, claiming I deserved a crack at him, too. Palmer agreed, but the truth of it was Marvin wanted me to back him in the match, to even the odds against Sykes & Castille, who were teammates – the Shock Doctrine.”

Norton’s eyes slant into corners of his eyelids.

Jake Norton: “Our ‘excellent’ standard came to an end because Marvin fed me to them, like a coward. He fled when it became apparent his chances of retaining the belt took a sheer drop into rock bottom. We were supposed to be teammates, you know? But typically, in pro’ wrestling, villains just can’t seem to coexist without eventual backstabbing in the works. So what happened? Micah Castille broke several of my bones, and Alexis Sykes Reservoir Dogged my ear – slicing it off gruesomely with a knife, before setting me ablaze altogether.”

Nostrils flaring and blood pumping, Norton is becoming enraged.

Jake Norton: “From there, I had to have plastic facial reconstruction surgery by the fucking best surgeons this world has in order to get my basic looks back. Just to look relatively normal. It drove me into bankruptcy. It gave me an adolescent sort of insecurity, and nearly killed my career. Seriously, how the fuck does someone come back from that burial?! Not many do. Not many should. But I’ve taken a lot of shit over the years. From being actually cummed on in Sin Wrestling by Chris Extreme, to Teresa Quaranta punting me into a comatose, my career still manages to rise from the coffin like Nosferatu.”

We’ve got a split crowd reaction suitable for a pie chart: some are mocking Norton, few are indifferent, but many are moved by Norton’s honesty, even some inspired.

Jake Norton: “I wouldn’t be able to exact revenge on Marvin Wood or those other two Jabronis, however. Nope, I went down to Underground X, acting as manager of ‘Bad Man’ Reece Jackson and doing some commentary duties here in REBEL Pro to collect enough dough that would help me out of my financial acid pit. But it was while I worked at UX I came into contact with Macca, the little Cuntster many of you are becoming so fond of.”

“Bad, Bad Man” by John Cena unexpectedly interrupts, and fans are baffled! Norton confusedly stares at the entranceway, with his mouth agape and eyebrows scowled. Then, it all becomes clear, when ‘Bad Man’ Reece Jackson emerges to a cultish markage, wearing a “Rasputin the Mad Monk” t-shirt, with words on it reading, “BANG” & “WORK LIKE A VILLAIN”! Wobbling down toward ringside, Jackson has a microphone in hand, and he looks pissed!

Bad Man: “Cut my fucking music!” The sixty plus year old UX Legend unnecessarily screeches.

Bad Man: “Who do you think you are, Jakey? You come out here on the Bad Man’s show-”

Jake Norton: “Uhm, Bad Man, I don’t think many of these people know who the hell you are.”

Bad Man backhands Norton to much shock, but to those who know Bad Man, they passionately cheer!

Bad Man: “Quiet, boy! Do you forget who you’re talking to? I am your father, Jakey. I raised you and Macca both since you were 32 and he was 28, or however the fuck old you two young hooligans were.”

Having not been this humiliated since the ‘cumming’ incident Norton spoke of earlier, Jake is caught in the middle of rage and stun.

Bad Man: “Look at you, Jakey. Look at what you’ve become. You’ve taken a detour from the Bad Way. You’re out here cutting promos, trying to be something you can never be. You’re not Macca, the future of this business, the soon-to-be World Heavyweight Champion of REBEL Pro. No, you’re Jake Norton, the boy who can’t ride a fucking bicycle!”

That memory steals the breath away from Norton, as the Cancerous Bastard momentarily relapses into the past, where the three Bad Cunts (Reece Jackson, Macca and Jake Norton) are in the parking lot of the Underground Arena, late at night after a Blacklist edition.

Macca: “Look, Norton, just hold the handlebars, keep them front and center, and pedal! Simple as that!”

Bad Man: “Fucking hell, I don’t know why we bother, Macca. This retarded-eye prick don’t know how to do shit!”

Macca: “Give him some space, Baddy. He can do it! Just believe in yourself, Jakey!”

Definitely unsure of himself, the tears are edging his eyelids, but Norton fights them back, thanks to Macca’s encouragement. Beginning to pedal, Norton is slowly but surely moving the bike forward, while Macca is continuing his support.

Macca: “That’s it! You can do it! Good job, Jakey! Now, keep going!!”

Letting go of his grip on the handlebars too, Macca allows Jakey to solely control the bicycle’s movement.

Jake Norton: “I’m.. I’m doing it! I’m really doing it! I AM DOING IT, BADDY!”

Bad Man is shocked at Norton’s success, but unfortunately, a brick wall is up ahead.

Macca: “Oh fuck, I forgot to show him how to stop.”

Jake Norton: “IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE ME NOW, BADDY! AHAHAHHA- DOUFVBRKJFVBKE”

With his head turned sideways, Norton was unable to see what is sildenafil citrate 100mg the incoming brick wall, which he flew headfirst into. Busting his forehead open, Norton lays awkwardly against the pavement with a broken arm, screaming.

Bad Man: “What a loser.”

The flashback ends there, as Norton finally snaps out of his private journey through time with the help of another backhand from Bad Man.

Bad Man: “Now you will get in that ring and show Macca the respect he deserves, faggot!”

Beyond reason, Norton lunges into Reece Jackson with a forearm smash! Mounting his former father-like figure, Norton pummels ‘Bad Man’ with ironclad fists, yelling, “CHEERS THIS, CUNT” Punch by punch, Bad Man is quickly spilling blood, bringing from the back a bunch of security guards coming to reset order.

After being pulled off Reece Jackson, a venomous Jake Norton spits at his old mentor, and then reequips himself with the microphone.

Jake Norton: “You fans wanted a fucking promo? Well, I’m not fucking finished! Macca, Marvin, this wasn’t going to be bloody personal. I was going to let bygones be bygones. But you know what? Fuck that. Fuck you two. I’ve just realized that this isn’t just a simple contest. This is about me getting revenge for all the bullshit I’ve endured the past year, courtesy of you two knuckleheads. Marvin, for the past few weeks, you’ve been busy jobbing, missing flights, no-showing matches, and being opposite of everything you claim to be: a World Champion. Maybe that’s why you’re no longer Aggression Champion, eh? You don’t have the drive or the creativity; the spirit or flexibility!”

Norton flips off the camera.

Jake Norton: “And you, Macca. You also claim to be a Champion. These commentators like to remind us all week after week you are the final UX Undisputed and Uncensored Champion. Oh, excuse me? The same cunt who threw the Uncensored belt in the trash like it meant fuck all? The same guy who showed up here in his first week and said, “who gives a shit about UX belts?” Yeah, this is a guy you want to compete for your titles, Simon? What happens when Rob Robinson tries to buy him away from REBEL? I bet you Macca will denounce anything he’s ever done in REBEL, and take a shit on your product. This isn’t the kind of champion REBEL needs.”

Climbing the steel steps and entering the ring, Norton finishes with,

Jake Norton: “I am going to defeat two former heavyweight champions in Marvin Wood and Macca because I want to be the champion REBEL fucking deserves. The last one, Matt Stone, fucking ditched us out of cowardice, and Phoenix openly shits on REBEL Pro. Lord knows we don’t need Marvin or Macca being his successor either, since one of them can’t be bothered to fucking show and give these fans what they paid to see, and the other pretends prestigious belts are for the trash men to collect.”

Throwing the microphone outside of the ring, comically nailing ‘Bad Man’ on the back of his head, fans are rallying behind Norton as he gets into a warrior stance and yells, “COME ON” – demanding his opponents to get their asses to the ring!

What An Amazing Fucking Match Triple Threat Match

Macca versus Jake Norton versus Marvin Wood

- At the tip of the entranceway, ‘Bad Man’ collapsed onto one knee, regardless of assistance by two medics. It is a second later Collingwood Football Club’s theme music answers an already in-ring Norton’s call. The first image Macca sees when he rushes out of the curtain is his mentor and adoptive father, Reece Jackson. Sliding toward his fallen guardian on both knees stylishly, an open-arms Macca quickly embraces the bloodied bad guy and whispers words likely of sympathy. When the camera caught the Cuntster’s eyes shooting toward the ring angrily, fans knew Macca wouldn’t have any of it! Continuing to egg his former Australian mate on, Norton loudly quacks – a subtle reference to Macca’s presumed dead friend, Marty the Duck. If the beat down on Bad Man wasn’t enough to royally madden the Undisputed Cunt, a swipe at Marty definitely blew the gasket!

While Macca runs down the ramp, Norton prepares to strike venomously, and so, when Macca arrives, he’s dealt multiple stomps that prevent him from standing. Six is the total number of times for Norton to cease stomping and opt to punt Macca square in the chin! Thanks to the impact, Macca retreats to the apron, but a baseball slide by Norton assures Macca that in itself is no blanket. Now outside on cold concrete, Macca is quick to move before Norton can slingshot, plancha or dive into or onto him. This was a smart decision, but then “The Lonely Shepherd” by Gheorghe Zamfir softly yet sweetly whistles through the arena’s speakers, notifying all tuned in that Marvin Wood is here!

So he comes down the ramp, treating people to his dour expression, prompting catcalls, but there’s no time for Marvin to perform his usual routine. Macca has taken notice to the third participant in this three-way dance, as has Jake Norton. But since Macca is closest, the little Cunt goes to meet Marvin on, and when he does, Marvin leaps for a clothesline, but completely misses the Cunt whose ‘rape tackle’ (spear) humbled Marvin! Hurrying to join the fight, Norton swings several fists upon arrival, but this time, none connect with Macca! Unlike before, Macca ‘cunt struck’ (super kick) Norton dead-on his chin, staggering the Cancerous 1 a few steps backward till falling onto his behind. When that occurred, Norton swallows a comedic superman punch that steals much of the support Norton had not too long ago, converting them into Macca’s little cunts!

- At 3 minutes: The match still is not officially underway as these three men have yet to all be inside the ring, but the brawling has yet to stop! Swinging leg-hook belly-to-back suplex may as well have dislocated something for Norton’s shout of hurt to justify, courtesy of Macca! Standing atop a barricade, Marvin Wood then jumps at Macca, who catches him and transitions whatever Marvin attempted into a spun out belly-to-back inverted concrete slam! Rewarding Macca’s awesomeness with a gush of blood, Marvin reveals to the camera his instantly bloody face with a side of grimace!

- At 5 minutes: Serving one another blow-for-blow, an exchange of iconic proportions happens atop the apron between Macca and Norton. Ripping a page out of Bubba J’s (alternatively, Dale Petty’s) ‘game-changing’ book, Macca hits Norton’s stomach harshly via knee, then applies a headlock so his ring post springboard cutter off the apron can devastatingly drive Norton face-first into the concrete below! As spectators expected from such a crushing move, Norton is bleeding from the mouth!

- At 6 minutes: Straightforward from that acid drop, Macca is confronted by Marvin Wood, who returns from a fisherman buster onto Norton’s knee, but has no difficulty in slapping away Marvin’s offense. However, even though a kick to the groin followed by a facebreaker knee smash eased Macca’s next big move: flowing DDT (which worked perfectly and temporarily silenced Marvin Wood), Norton seized the moment to no-hand enzuigiri the fucking cunt!

- At 8 minutes: To the laughter and shock of everyone, ‘Bad Man’ Reece Jackson reemerges on a bicycle, pedaling toward ringside, yelling vulgarity and obscene references “I’m gonna rape the mighty out of ya!” & “beat ya like a fucking pot-bellied piggy! Oink, oink, faggots!” Having no idea who this old black bastard is, Marvin Wood leaps for another ridiculous clothesline, but Bad Man slugs the sensitive Brit hard and well, in midair! Despite troubles getting off the bike, Bad Man still conjures the bizarre strength to relentlessly thrust himself into an unconscious Marvin Wood (don’t worry, censorships, they both got clothes on. It’s dry humping, but still incredibly graphic and unnecessary) “IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE ME NOW, BRUCE” Bad Man yells, vigorously. During all this, Jake Norton puts Macca through two unfolded chairs via powerbomb.

- At 9 minutes: Tiring himself out from all that thrusting, Bad Man reaches into his sweatpants and clearly rubs his hand against his crotch, looking pleased with himself. Children, cover your eyes. Pulling his puffy hand back out, Bad Man gives it a whiff and begins to gag! Rubbing his hand against Marvin’s face, Bad Man says, “wakey wakey!” and then slaps him. Still unconscious, Marvin is naturally unresponsive. Bad Man inhales a large breath, and then sighs disappointingly. Getting to his feet, Reece Jackson looks around for his boys (Macca & Jake Norton), who’ve just double knockout punched each other simultaneously at the opposite side of his location!

- At 11 minutes: We had chants of “boring” and “change the channel!” as Bad Man pushed both unconscious Macca and Norton inside the ring, then had Macca cover Norton, but referee Alan Stone said, “the match hasn’t even started! I can’t start it until Marvin Wood is also in the ring!” – “Oh, for fuck sakes!” Bad Man yelled in frustration before getting back on the bike, riding back toward Marvin, who’s stirring. Riding into Marvin and crushing his hands, the ‘Consummate Professional’ yelps in pain, but is soon hit in the head after Bad Man picks up and throws the bicycle at him! Twelve seconds pass before Bad Man can get Marvin inside the ring, but at this point, both Macca and Norton are stirring, too! Regardless, the match is now official!

-At 12 minutes: Chopping each other with pomp and circumstance, Macca gets the advantage by chopping Norton across his eyes! Blinding the lazy-eyed phenomenon momentarily, Macca pays tribute to Bad Man by giving Norton some nasty headbutts! Bad Man approves, and so do these fans! Well, a good amount of them. Boos are likely from Norton supporters. Now that Norton is reeling into a nearby corner, a divided chant of “X’er Cunt!” and “Let’s go Norton” births. Macca rams his shoulder into Norton twice, but sharp elbows to the spine are Norton’s reply! Deciding to back up, the consequence is Macca being caught off guard by Marvin Wood, who grabs him by the waist and pulls backward, only for Macca to reverse and corkscrew kneel belly-to-belly piledrive Marvin into the canvas! Although Marvin’s been dealt with, Macca still has to deal with his brother from another family, Jake Norton, who shoots out of the turnbuckle and bicycle kicks Macca right in the face!

Because Macca rolled out of further harm’s way, Norton decided to take what’s available: Marvin Wood. Lifting the bugger, Norton nicks and applies Imperfect Science (single leg-trap reverse DDT into a dragon sleeper, with shoulder being torn away at) on Marvin Wood, who embarrassingly submits within seconds! A good majority of the crowd bursts into

cheers at the finish, but ‘Bad Man’ Reece Jackson growls upsettingly at Norton’s victory.

Winner: Jake Norton @ 12 minutes, 54 seconds

No Sellers Anonymous

We enter the darkened meeting place of No Sellers Anonymous where apparently a Star Wars party is in full swing. And by full swing, we mean absolute chaos. The cheese dip for the nachos has made a nice yellowish mess on the walls as Darth PuppetLisa and an one eyed half naked Jedi master battle for the right to a Death Star cookie on the buffet table. There’s a series of flips and hasty swinging of weaponry galore and the constant picking up of monocle and top hat. After a while the duo start to grapple against each other with the Dark Side winning out. Her cape flutters in some makeshift wind as she tries to as the shaft of her lightsaber inches closer to where his neck would be.

Darth PuppetLisa: Fuck you! You ate all the cake!

All Master PuppetSimon can muster in response is a belch whose stench could fell an elephant. She stumbles away just in time to miss a shot of light…thing from Boba Felt.

Darth PuppetLisa: Whose side are you on?!

“Boba” dusts off his green tux.

Boba Felt: My own.

Darth PuppetLisa: Like it matters. You’re a useless clone that has a cult following for fuck all reasons.

Boba Felt: Because I’m awesome.

As this turns into the worst argument ever, we turn to Anna and PuppetLiza dressed up as Princess Leia and Queen Amidala respectfully. PuppetTeresa’s here too but she’s so damn tall, we can’t see anything resembling a costume. If she had one though, it would probably be Jar Jar Binks.

PuppetTeresa: Wins.

Queen PuppetLiza: Ummm…Anna? Why are we dressed up like this? Halloween is over and we’ve never seen a Star Wars movie in our lives!

Princess Anna: Furst ov all, et’s still real too me, dammit!

Her fist pounds against the table.

Princess Anna: Secondlee, I likes mi hear in buns. And thirdly, itt’s either dis oar me ranting abowt the utter Robinson n’ hiz gawd complex.

All the eye rolls.

Queen PuppetLiza: Well, he was an Underground X champion…

Anna’s eyes narrow.

Princess Anna: I’mma too tyme Rebel Pro world champion, da current Aggression champion, the Final Charm, und the last real X-Division AND Car Crash Television holder evar. Doo jew cee me crowin’ bout world shiny shots ev’ry tyme aye enter a nu plase of buzyness?

Queen PuppetLiza: No.

Princess Anna: Xactly. N’ bi the way, ur ruining your hairdo wif your hat.

The Queen straightens her magical headwear.

Queen PuppetLiza: But I like my hat!

???: *Chewbacca sounds*

Everybody turns to PuppetSimon.

PuppetSimon: What? I can’t even clear my throat without you fuckers looking at me funny? Fuck is wrong with you?

Multiple looks of shock as we slip into something other boring match-n-seggy-whateverness.

Gold Digger

Backstage at the REBEL Arena, Sean Robinson stands behind the curtain, awaiting his turn to walk to the ring. He’s got new gear for REBEL. All black everything, as Jay-Z would say, with Robbo’s signature gold accents. His personal logo adorns his t-shirt, the Boston Bruins “spoked-B” logo, modified into a spoked R. UNDISPUTED shines in gold letters above it.

He turns mid-stretch and addresses the ever-present REBEL cameraman.

Sean Robinson:
“Last week, I expected more from REBEL. I expected more from Simon Kalis. What I expected, to be frank, was some fucking competition. I wanted my first match in this company to be special. I wanted to go out there and show these fans what it was that made me the greatest champion – fuck that – the greatest wrestler in Underground X history. Most of all, I wanted to prove to the world that I’m the next in line for the REBEL World Title. Macca goes out there for his first match, and he faced a bonafide REBEL legend in Dale Petty. He got to show off his skills against someone who could match him move for move. And what do I get? The worst wrestler I’ve ever seen in my life. Worse than John Chelios, worse than Robb Shadows. Jeremy goddamned Gold.

Willie Williams couldn’t have booked that match worse. And Kalis claims to be better than Salvatore D’Aquila? What a crock of shit.”

Robinson points http://canadianpharmacy-lowcost.com/ at the “Big Board” that lists the card for tonight’s show.

“And now I’ve got Anna Matthews. Aggression Champion. Well, lucky for Miss Matthews, this is a non-title match. Not that I’m interested in that second-rate belt, mind you. The Aggression title means about as much as the gilded jockstrap that Macca was wearing before he stole my Undisputed rematch and beat Mainerishi on the last Blacklist. But you should be aware of something, Anna. I’ve dealt with my fair share of retards during my time in UX. The average idiot in the audience might think that you’re ‘wacky’ or ‘adorable’ or ‘so random’, but your little routine is just stupid bullshit to distract from your utter lack of wrestling ability.

I’ve never met a single woman who could hold her own against a man in a ring. Let alone a man of my talent. Oh, and before someone brings up Emily Corlen, let me retort with this.”

In the corner of the screen, a Youtube clip plays in a small box: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cB8TfkdVUTw

“You lucked your way into that belt, Anna. Your entire run in this company is down to two things: Luck, and the ability to completely mask your complete and total incompetance in the ring with ‘wacky’ antics. You go out there with your stupid puppets, and you try to get the fans behind you with humor. And that’s fine if you can back it up in the ring. But you can’t. You don’t have a tenth of my ability, there isn’t one iota of technical skill in what you call wrestling. And forget about submissions. If I walked out there with two broken arms, you couldn’t make me tap out.

I’m the next one in line for the World Title. Everyone knows it, they’re just deluding themselves into thinking that I’m not the best wrestler in the world. So I’m going to go out there tonight, and

prove it to them. I’m going to make you tap out. I’m going to have you in the center of that ring, crying through your stupid little puppets, begging for the ref to call the match. And if you don’t tap, I’m just going to break something. I’m going to keep breaking bones until you can’t stand it anymore and throw in the towel, or simply pass out from the pain.

Because that’s what a real wrestler does. He doesn’t stop until the bell rings. He doesn’t let off, he doesn’t go easy. He methodically picks apart his opponent until there’s nothing left but scraps for the dogs. That’s why I’m the best in the world. I’ve been the best technical wrestler since I first stepped on a mat.

Before Salazar, Deicide, and I got here, REBEL was boring as fuck. No competition, no skill, nothing to rate this company any higher than the C show in AOWF. It would be the D show, but there’s the PWA, after all.

But then Wrestling’s Undisputed showed up. And suddenly REBEL is worth watching. Sal and D turned the tag division from stale to the standard of tag team wrestling. Technical ability, great teamwork, and of course, a level of class that REBEL has never seen before. They’ve single-handedly taken the tag division to the top of the industry.”

In the background, the opening notes of Kanye West’s “Amazing” play over the arena PA. The crowd’s boos are already audible, but Robbo just smiles.

“Now it’s my turn.”

And with that, he steps through the curtain to show the fans what they’ve been missing.

Non-Title Match

Sean Robinson versus Anna Mathews

- Next to Larry Gordon and Linzi Martin for this non-title bout is Sean Robinson’s stable mates, Cesar Salazar & Deicide. Much like previously, Deicide prefers to sit relaxed and silent, unlike Salazar, who’s wearing the special guest commentator headset.

Larry Gordon: “Cesar, we’ve just finished watching Robinson’s promotional piece on the jumbo screen, and he’s swearing to submit our Aggression Champion! What are your thoughts on this match?”

Cesar Salazar: “I believe Anna Mathews isn’t entirely incapable of wrestling a technical match because she’s quite the highflyer, and that involves some methodic skill by means of striking. But for the most part, she’s an acrobatic. And although Robinson dabbles in aerials himself, he dismisses it as an inferior technique.”

Linzi Martin: “Could that cost him?”

Cesar Salazar: “It’s a possibility, but I’m very familiar with Robinson’s career, and he’s fought every style known to a wrestler today. But as I say, Robbo could lose for his curmudgeon tendencies, but I doubt that, truly.”

Linzi Martin: “What could a win do for both of these talents, gents?”

Larry Gordon: “Well, Anna is Aggression Champ, so regardless of this being a non-title bout, it’ll strengthen not only her reign but give that belt more leverage as being a world-class strap, much like it’s superior.”

Cesar Salazar: “Exactly as Robbo said, defeating the Aggression Champ, who is also a former REBEL World Heavyweight Champion, among many other respectable accolades, would polish his claims as the next contender rather well.”

- Jimmy Johnson exercises his official duties by informing both Anna and Robinson of what is to be expected from them in this contest: anything goes. There are no rope-breaks, count-outs, disqualification, but referee stoppage is enabled in case of excessive action. Shaking his finger twice at the timekeeper, Jimmy declares the match underway, cueing Anna and Robinson to explode out of their respective corners and exchange swift avoidances and dodges of each other’s jabs, kicks and clotheslines. For over a minute, the two perform beautiful defense, but Robinson gets caught by Anna’s rolling savate kick!

Linzi Martin: “Her foot cracked Robinson so hard, someone ought to yell TIMBER.”

A split-legged moonsault off a nearby turnbuckle onto Robinson follows, but Anna’s lateral press cannot get even a mere one.

Larry Gordon: “The pride of Robinson seeps already.”

- At 4 Minutes: An overhead belly-to-belly suplex mistakenly propels Anna Mathews onto the ropes, which she correctly utilizes to rebound at Robinson for an astonishing springboard spike DDT! Fans wildly cheered as Anna hurriedly covered Robinson’s lifeless body, but resurrected at the sound of a two count by jolting a shoulder up off the canvas!

Not granting herself a moment of awe, Anna pushes off her knees and takes to the ropes once more; comes off with a Lionsault that is greeted with two sharp knees to the gut! A seemingly instinctive grab of Anna’s ankle, Robinson delivers four fast heel kicks to Anna’s spine before applying a tidy ankle lock! Twisting and jerking the joints, Robinson shouts at a panicking Anna to surrender! Picking option two instead, Anna smartly uses her free foot to ram itself thrice into both Robinson’s chin and throat, which frees herself altogether!

- At 9 Minutes: One spinning headscissor flipped Robinson across the ring, and when he rose, a Boomerfly (springboard butterfly) Kick nearly decapitates him! Nearly, because ducking beneath forced Anna onto the top rope, spilling over-the-top, and left leg smacks against the apron on her way down to the concrete! Just the beginning of her troubles, for Robinson ran up a nearby turnbuckle and jumped off, landing on Anna’s spine via double foot stomp, as she were on all fours trying to gather herself!

Linzi Martin: “That’s 245lbs dropping onto a 120lbs body! That’s over twice her weight!”

- At 13 Minutes: Scooping a laid out Anna off the steel steps he just planted her onto via leg-hook reverse STO, Robinson lifts her onto his right shoulder in order to ram her back-first into a ring post, then slams her directly atop the barricade! Virtually paralyzed by the brutal sequence, Anna remains awkwardly and painfully laid out across the barricade, presenting Robinson opportunity to climb onto the apron and leap for a guillotine legdrop, which he awesomely does!

Cesar Salazar: “The ref needs to check her vital signs.”

- At 15 Minutes: Attempting to shove Anna inside the ring, Robinson is met with desperate kicks, for Anna knows her being inside the ring could increase Robinson’s chances of victory tenfold. A strong mule kick to Robinson’s midsection does the trick, but Anna must follow it up quickly, so she does with an inverted double underhook facebuster!

Larry Gordon: “Talk about evening the odds.”

Linzi Martin: “Desperate times calls for horrific measures!”

Bleeding from the nose, which is also likely broken, Robinson’s eyes are disoriented, indicating a private trip to a misty forest. The damage done to Anna’s body is more apparent as she limps and generally struggles to keep hold on her strength. But fortunately for her, REBEL Marks love her to death, so a few offer their beverages, snacks, shoes, action figures (there are kids in attendance), but ultimately, Anna decides on a thick steel chain that somehow made it pass arena security. Wrapping it around her fist, the Queen of Dodos stalks a rising Robinson, and then connects with his ear, sending him sideways into a ring post for hysteric approval!

- At 20 Minutes: Subsequent to a diverse series of offense (starting first to last in order of execution: rope hung snap swinging neckbreaker, rolling thunder transitioned into a somersault senton, inverted surfboard, while also applying a dragon sleeper, but countered by Robinson’s punching; a lifting double underhook facebuster into a lateral press, which was reversed for a cradle pin, but reaped no counts) Anna caught a vicious uppercut, and now is stuck in a sleeper takedown! Anna is trying to hit Robinson, but the pressure on her throat weakens her punches quickly!

Linzi Martin: “There’s no rope breaks! She has to fight her way out!”

Larry Gordon: “How can she when her lights are dimming?!”

Linzi Martin: “What’s that Robinson is yelling?!”

Cesar Salazar: “I do believe it is, ‘This Is Wrestling’”

As Anna’s arms fall lifelessly to the canvas and her eyes close, Robinson has persuaded the REBEL audience into joining him with more powerful chants of “THIS IS WRESTLING”! Obviously unconscious, Anna Mathews compels Jimmy Johnson to call for a stoppage, declaring Sean Robinson winner! “Amazing (Heartbeats Remix)” by Kanye West plays to the confirmation of Jenny Jersey’s voice, and Sean Robinson just barely relinquishes his hold after idle threats from Johnson. Eventually, this scene comes to a close at the top of the ramp, where on each side of Robinson, Deicide and Salazar hold up one of his arms victoriously; whilst in their other hands hang their perspective halves of the Undisputed Tag Team Championships.

Winner: Sean Robinson @ 20 minutes, 14 seconds

Liquid Strength

The camera cuts on, fading in from a commercial for Billy’s BBQ, to show a very clean and shiny Chevrolet Tahoe pulling up outside of a very delapidated single-wide trailer. The man’s head is shaking back and forth as he looks down at a map, GPS, or something and then back up to the trailer. After a few moments the door opens up, and Larry Gordon steps out dressed impecably in a red golf shirt, khaki pants, and brown loafers. He wipes off a bit of non-existent lint from his shirt before stepping up the rickety steps and into the holey sheltered area, the boards underfoot nearly rotted from the rain that pours through the holes in the tiny porch roof. Knocking on the door Larry stands for several moments, knocking several times, eventually a man opens the door.

The man is dressed in tighty whities, a yellow piss stain in the front, no shirt, and a ring of blueish white substance around his nose; make a note that it is both nostrils. Gordon looks on the man with disgust before calming himself and taking a deep breath, which causes him to immediately gag from some unknown stench. Bobby Lee looks at the man with a glassy eyed stare as Larry almost, but barely avoids, vomitting over the rotted porch railing.

Lee: “Yes Warry?”

He giggles.

Lee: “Wanna want?”

Gordon, still breathing heavily, responds.

Gordon: “You’ve got to get in fighting shape and kick Dale Petty’s ass!”

Lee shakes visibly in fear at the name of the hardcore artist formerly known as Bubba J.

Lee: “Nope, my sugaries and me are just fine without facing that man, thankies.”

He goes to shut the door.

Gordon: “But the entire company of Rebel Pro rests on your shoulders! Don’t you care?”

Bobby Lee looks out at something for a while.

Lee: “Nope, the evil zoards of Quintelplog have taken over.”

Gordon is disgusted.

Gordon: “No they have not!”

Lee: “That is exactly what they would say, mayb e they’ve got control of your wee little brain as well.”

Gordon, visibly pissed, holds his anger in.

Gordon: “I have not been taken over by any of them. You, an official member of the Rebel Pro roster, are booked in a match.”

Lee shakes his head.

Lee: “Not me, I retired.”

Gordon: “No, you did not!”

Lee: “Did so.”

Gordon: “Did not!”

Lee: “Did so!”

Gordon: “Did not!”

Lee nods.

Lee: “I just confirmed it, you have been taken over, your brain is infested with the slogs from the planet Xenoplog, its hopeless for you. Have a nice day.”

Lee goes to shut the door in Larry’s face.

Gordon: “There is a pile of sugaries in it for you.”

The door slams shut, a slight pause, then quickly reopens with Lee standing there.

Lee: “Sugaries?”

Gordon, a wicked smile on his face, nods.

Gordon: “Lots of sugaries, the best sugaries.”

Lee begins to salivate.

Gordon: “And edible grass too!”

Lee nearly swoons from the overload of his favorite things.

Gordon: “And there is a ton of liquid strength.”

Lee: “Strength… liquid strength?”

Gordon nods, pulling out a syringe.

Gordon: “Here is a sample.”

Lee: “A needle? I don’t like needles…”

Lee is a bit fearful, but Gordon encourages him.

Gordon: “Give it a try and see.”

Without waiting Gordon shoves the needle in and releases a dose of “strength” into Lee’s body.

Lee: “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”

Lee crumples against the door frame for a moment before ripping the door off its hinges and shoving Gordon down the steps.

Lee(much deeper voice, think Shaft or John Coughfey from Green Mile): “Lets Go!”

Gordon, with another wicked smile murmers to himself.

Gordon: “Good bye Dale Petty, good-bye for good!”

He holds his hand up.

Gordon: “Lets wait Bobby, you’ve got to get dressed first!”

Lee, who was in the middle of lifting the front part of the Tahoe up and down looks back at Gordon.

Lee: “What for? I am undefeatable!”

Gordon nods.

Gordon: “But you can’t wrestle if you get arrested.”

Lee thinks for a moment then nods.

Lee: “To the Sugarie palace to dawn the clothing of a champion!”

Gordon laughs and nods.

Gordon: “Go and do it my champion, throw fear into the face of Dale Petty!”

Lee runs inside, tearing a piece of the door off in his haste without noticing it.

Gordon: Dale, your days in this company are numbered, you’ve fucked with the wrong man.”

He looks over his shoulder.

Gordon: “No one will ever know.”

Southern Style

The weather outside is very pleasant, the sun is shining, very few clouds in the sky, but none of the mushy birds are chirping stuff… not for this guy anyways; not like he’s got control anyways. Dale is leaning up against a wall, his shoulders pressed heavily against the bricks, his left foot on the wall as well. A lit cigarette is in his mouth, the smoke curling up from

the end as he smoker squints into the camera.

“Macca, as I said on live television, that was some of the funnest time that I’ve had in a ring and I’d really enjoy the chance to dance the dance of hardcore with you again.”

He nods.

“Now that the mutual respect bullshit is out of the way, and I meant every single word by the way, let me get down to the business of which I’ve recorded this little movie.”

He takes a drag.

“Larry “I’m as fat as a steroid saturated cow” Gordon, eater of the jizz burger, drinker of piss, and all around lover of the from unda cheese burger, forgot about that one there for a minute.”

A shake of the head, Larry disgusts him.

“It seems that Mr. Fat Ass is going to lose his ass, not the weight, but his ass concerning owning majority control of Rebel Pro.”

He makes that tisking sound.

“Such a shame too, when it all could have been avoided by just giving me my job back, giving my name back, selling Simon your two percent, or just shutting the hell up and listening to the fans. After all Gordon, they are what got you here, we carried them into the seats, we carried this company on our backs, watered your thirst for money with our blood, and then fertilized your fields of greed with our flesh… week in and week fucking out.”

He stares, taking a drag before tossing the cig away.

“But you couldn’t give one inch, you wanted to keep taking, taking, and when you were through taking; you wanted to take some more.”

He crosses his arms, looking extremely bully like.

“Well the redneck bully is back, different name, but same strong and hurtful punch.”

He laughs.

“And your champion is… Bobby Lee.”

He waits.

“Bobby Fucking Lee.”

He pauses again.

“Do I need to say it again? Do I need to remind you of the hopelessness of your situation? Do I need to remind you of your chances of walking out with a victory in this contest?”

A wait, he’s letting Larry think of this.

“And dear hapless Bobby Lee, all I need to say to you is boo and you’ve just pissed in your pants. I’m no alien, I’m no alter personality, I’m not a figment of your imagination. I’m the bully that probably knocked your screws loose. I’m the original big bad dreams of your childhood. I’m the man that you don’t want to meet in a dark alley late at night. Hell, you don’t even want to meet me during the day time, because you are a quivering lump of dried up never hasbeen pussy. Did you get all of that Bobby? In case you didn’t, let me break it down for you.”

He keeps the arms crossed, but pauses before resuming that pose to light up.

“I’m going to kick your ass because you are nothing, you are less than nothing, you are so far into the realm of nothingness that… http://viagraonline-genericmall.com/ you really aren’t even there. You should have never signed up to compete here and tonight, I’m going to show you exactly why. I’m going to make you believe, because its damn true, that everyone else you’ve faced has been taking it easy on your ass.”

He smirks.

“And I’m going to love every single second of that shit, let me tell you. You won’t have to worry about seeing aliens for a long time, because I’m going to swell them pretty baby blues up for you. You won’t have to worry about hearing them talk to you, cause I’m gonna cauliflower your ears and cause you to hear nothing but ringing for weeks. You won’t be able to have your sugaries to comfort the pain either, cause I’m going to swell them lips up, so that you have to inject your meals through a damn tube down your nose for a month.”

He exhales.

“Best part, I’m gonna get paid to do it. You’ll quit Bobby Lee, in fact you’ll leave running, breaking your contract and probably your legs in the process.”

A shrug of indifference.

“And I don’t give a good damn, because when you squeal, its gonna be encouragement to me and cause me to go higher, dig into your flesh deper, and pour salt into that wound then piss on it for the hope of causing an infection in your blood stream.”

He waits.

“In fact, you might not be able to run away after all, cause you’ll be like a blind man running away from an oncoming train… you won’t be able to see where in the fuck you are headed… but let me give you a hint.”

He leans a bit forward.

“You are heading straight into an asswhoopin’ Southern Style.”

{fade to ringside.}

The Battle for 2% of REBEL Pro and Bubba’s Identity!

Bobby Lee versus Dale Petty

Jenny Jersey: The following match is set for one fall and is for 2 percent control of Rebel Pro, for Dale to receive his name “Bubba J”, and is your Aggression Main Event of the evening!

Dale hops from the crowd, not even allowing anything but the first riff of “Badass” to play, he’s ready to get this done with.
“I’m A Rebel” queues up in the speakers and from the back, being trailed by super Bobby Lee, is the majority owner of Rebel Pro, to a thunderous ovation of boos, Larry Gordon. He steps into the ring, staring across at Dale Petty, who is just staring out much like Chuck Liddell before a MMA match.

Gordon: “Seeing as I’m majority owner of Rebel Pro, the following match is not stipulated fairly Dale Petty here has all to gain, but nothing to lose.”

He smirks.

Gordon: “He wants to brag about pulling things over on me, I’ve pulled something over on him.”

He laughs.

Gordon: “Dear less than intelligent Dale has unknowingly put something up in this match…”

The crowd is silent, Dale looks on at both men.

Gordon: “If he loses, he will never again be allowed to wrestle in any federation, under any name, under any identity, no way at all!”

Dale shrugs, not really listening or giving away anything. Gordon is a bit upset with the lack of reaction, but he’s gotten what he wants in evening up the stipulation here.

Ding Ding

Bubba J, no wait, he hasn’t earned that name just yet, but its inevitable as he’s facing Bobby Lee, licks his lips in anticipation of the blood to be shed here in this match. Dale jumps for Lee’s face, Lee knocks him back with a huge right hand, causing Gordon to laugh, Dale to spit out a tooth and blood, and Lee to look at his right hand; not to mention the crowd gasps in shock.

Linzi Martin: Whoa!

Dale smiles as he picks himself back up, spitting blood on the canvas and nodding at the shocked Bobby Lee, who seems to puff up his chest a bit. Dale comes rushing back in, but ducks under another right fist, nailing him in the kidneys and sending him stumbling back. Both men fall down and Dale is on Lee with rights and lefts, not relenting his assault at all, before kneeing him in the crotch and biting at his nose in an effort to maim him beyond recognition. Lee begins to scream in pain, Dale nailing him with repeated headbutts now, busting open his forehead and breaking his nose with an audible crunch. Dale rolls off the now bloody man, looking down at Gordon who is furious.

Dale: You want some fat man?!

Lee is up behind Dale, double upwards fist shot to the nuts, causes Dale to turn green and fall on the ropes. Larry jumps up to the apron, grabbing the back of Dale’s skull, pulling down with all of his considerable weight, turning his face purple quickly. Meanwhile Lee is behind him, kicking Dale repeatedly in the balls with the full force of his body and super juice enhanced talent.

Linzi Martin: Come on! This is bullshit!

The fans begin to chant “bullshit” over the entirety of the arena, but Gordon doesn’t relent at all, until Dale goes completely limp on the ropes, drool dribbling out of his mouth in a steady stream. Gordon winds up, punching the redneck right in the side of the face with a set of brass knuckles then backing up and doing the same with a series of shots, causing the Ragin’ Redneck to bleed profusely from the wound on the side of his temple. Lee picks up Dale, lifting him high over head with a gorilla press slam, tossing him over the side and to the concrete before leaping to the top turnbuckle and diving off with a double knee drop type of splash thing(its Bobby Lee, he doesn’t know much) onto the unconscious Dale Petty. Gordon is setting up a table, ordering Lee to powerbomb Dale from the top turnbuckle onto it and finish this in a hurry. Lee looks at Gordon.

Lee: “What is a powerbomb? I don’t like explosives.”

Gordon shakes his head and tries to explain it to Lee, who just isn’t understanding it correctly. Gordon then puts Dale between his legs, preparing him for a powerbomb, but Dale manages to nail him in the testicles, sending him onto the table. Dale stumbles back against the railing and is spent, that is all that he had. Lee walks over to Larry, who is puking on the floor from the huge amounts of pain coursing up through his groin, Lee gets right in his face.

Lee: “Is that how you do it?”

To reply Gordon pukes again, nothing much, but the sound and smell is horrible, some fans on the first couple of rows begin to gag as well. Lee is spun around, nailed right in the gut and sent to the Trailer Park, curtosey of Dale Petty!

Linzi Martin: “Pin him!”

But evidently that was a bit too much as well as Dale falls forward from the seated position and is gasping for breath still, he was held across that rope, while getting ball kicked, for several minutes. He begins to struggle back up to his hands and knees, slowly and ever so slowly back up to the kneeling position against the railing. Gordon nails him right in the face with a steel chair, though it was a very weak shot, Dale is a weak guy right now and it served its purpose. Gordon laughs right in his face, but a woman nails him in the side of the skull with what could be considered a brick laden pocketbook, its Rebel Pro… any thing is possible. Gordon stumbles down, bleeding a bit from his head… no wait, the woman had some ketchup on her pocketbook. Gordon stands back up, growling at her, allowing Dale to get back up to his knees. Dale reaches under the ring as Gordon is yelling at the woman and hollering for security to come and remove her from the premesis or they’ll be fired! Dale smiles behind him as he waits for Gordon to turn around. Larry spins around quickly, Dale nails him right in the face with a fire extinguisher before blowing most of the contents all over his face and stomping the shit out of his face for good measure.

Linzi Martin: What a shot! What a weird match! What?!

Lee growls in fury as he charges at Dale, catching him with a bulldog, taking him down to the concrete floor! Lee whips him into the ringpost before sending several kicks, stomps, punches, and shoulders into his midsection doubling him over. Lee rolls Dale back into the ring before coming off the top with a 1 person hurricanrana, told you he didn’t know much.

Linzi Martin: Weird, but somewhat effective I guess… first time I’ve ever seen a 1 man hurricanrana; trust Bobby Lee to fuck up even a wet dream.

Lee holds at his knees, but keeps on the offense as he lifts Dale up again over his head, though he’s struggling some now with the effort, but still manages it. Drop across the knee and Dale is winded once again, gasping heavily for breath, pouring blood from the wounds on his face and head. Gordon has gotten to a seated position on the outside, covered in garbage from the fans, who just don’t like him anymore; but he has an evil smirk on his face.

Larry: “Powerbomb!”

Lee looks over, nodding that he understands this time. Lee pulls Dale in for a powerbomb, before looking over at Gordon’s nod and the crowd’s gasp of shock that Dale is going to lose to Bobby Lee, even if he is super humanized. Lee struggles a bit, lifting, but can’t quite do it.

Linzi Martin: “Not like this! Dale can’t be gone from professional wrestling like this!”

Gordon is laughing at Dale’s predicament, Lee lifts up again, but can’t quite manage it. Lee nods, he remembers something, then promptly nails himself right in the nuts as hard as he can and falls down; Dale falls on top of him, out cold. The referee slides into position, Gordon struggles to get up, but has been tied to the railing!

One!

Two!

Three!

The fans are cheering and laughing, glad for Bubba J’s win and laughing at Bobby Lee’s powerbomb.

Linzi Martin:(laughing hysterically) He thinks… he thinks… my gawd, he nailed himself right in the nuts cause he thought… he thought you were supposed to! Thank goodness for idiots like Bobby Lee, shows you the perfect reason not to do drugs.

Gordon is furious, extremely raging, beyond cureablely furious! He’s screaming at the top of his lungs!

Jenny Jersey: Winner of the match, receving his name back, receiving 2 percent control of Rebel Pro stock, the Ragin’ Redneck… Bubba J!

J rolls over, looking at Gordon right in the eye, the briefcase with 2 percent control being handed to Bubba. J rolls out of the ring and walks over to the now red faced, spittle running down his face, eyes blazing former majority owner of Rebel Pro… Larry Gordon. Bubba J holds out the case, looks at the crowd who all gasp in shock, then nudges Larry with it.

Bubba J: “All I wanted was my name back.”

J shrugs, Larry smirks thinking that he has just screwed Simon over once again and reaches out for the case.

Bubba J: “And the chance to do this again@!”

Trailer Park Trash!

The crowd roars their approval and anyone who was still sitting or had sat, jumped back up and cheered as Gordan was put down again.

Bubba J stands over the beaten, bloody, puke covered Gordon, holding the case up high and the crowd roaring their approval.

QUICK RESULTS!

The Uproars defeat Golden Inferno
Justin Case defeats Jonathan Cage
Jake Norton defeats Marvin Wood and Macca
Sean Robinson defeats Anna Mathews
Bubba J as Dale Petty defeats Bobby Lee

Is that Larry’s Twin?

Aggression comes back from commercial as we tune in to see a camera angle showing the masses in attendance, the camera spins around before it comes to a halt before the “RebelTRON” then – a voice over the speakers – “Do you wanna get rocked?” the crowd perks up their cheers “LETS GET! LETS GET! ROCKED ROCKED ROCKET” – “Let’s get rocked” by Def Leppard hits the speakers, the crowd is unsure what to make of the music, as it was something new and different, (“WE DON’T LIKE THINGS THAT ARE DIFFERENT” Larry Gordon commented – to which, you the viewer, would reply; “shut the fuck up, Larry.”) the music continues a bit before a sort of familiar face walks out onto the stage, What we could make through the days of growth on the face, and the extra pounds, it seemed to be “Awesome” Alex Wilkie! Former Rebel Pro Tag Team Champion!

Jenny Jersey: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Please welcome… “AWESOME” Alex WILKIE!”

the crowd lets out a roar of cheers as Wilkie continues down the ring, “My God, he’s let himself go hasn’t he?” Larry Gordon would comment again, this time, you the viewer, should probably agree, that fat fuck has eaten more goddamn cheese burgers than the hamburgler, and he probably ate the hamburgler too, Wilkie hops up onto the apron, he was still pretty spry, though it was obvious that feat alone winded him just a bit, he stepped between the ropes and wandered over to Jenny Jersey who had an extra microphone ready for him. He accepted her offer graciously and even held the ropes open for her when she left the ring.

He wandered around the ring a bit more, not sure where to begin he kept bring the microphone up to his mouth then putting it back down. The fans were cheering and clapping, and some turbo-nerds were trying to start a “Fuck You, Wilkie!” chant but it wasn’t catching on.

Wilkie: “Let me just start by saying… You may have noticed something new and different about me…”

He stopped in the middle of the ring and flung his long and unkempt hair back.

Wilkie: “I haven’t had my hair dyed or styled in a couple months…”
The crowd laughed a bit, it was the cheesiest joke he could have told, even Larry Gordon had a better follow up that had involved Chunk and the Goonies, you the viewer would’ve been pissing yourself laughing, had his mic not cut out in some sort of technical difficulties situation right before he said it. Oh well, that’s show biz, kids!

Wilkie: “You all might be wondering why I’m here too… well, with last weeks little bit of news, Rebel Pro winning that battle with UX and buying them out, Kalis not only acquired all the talent in UX whom have been there since the beginning, but he also acquired all the people who hadn’t even appeared on television yet… one of those people were me! So as it stands now, I am a Rebel Pro Star!”

The crowd let out a burst of cheers, though it was short lived as Wilkie called for silence once again.

Wilkie: “But… unfortunately, In my wrestling career, both independent and professional, I’ve hurt myself alot… I wake up and my back locks, my knee is brittle like chalk, my ankles click like a clock when I walk. I even have to wear a brace for my cock.”

“Did that fucker just Seuss the shit out of Aggression?” Larry Gordon almost got up to get in that ring and sock Wilkie in the mouth, only Linzi Martin was holding him back.

Wilkie: “The fact of the matter is, I’d probably blow my knees out picking up the telephone, so I’ve talked to Simon and we both agreed in having me be more of a Part-Time wrestler, and a full time adviser would be better for the company as a whole.”

The crowd seemed to disagree with what was better for the company, judging by the amount of boo’s it got, Alex lifted up his hand to call for silence.

Wilkie: “I know how you all feel, I don’t want this to happen either… but..”

he stopped for a second and looked up to the ramp, the crowd turned to see what he was looking at, and a man walking down from the stage, hair slicked back, wearing jeans, and a shirt that said “Spread Cancer” – a Jake Norton shirt? Maybe it was a fan who jumped the rail? But he had an envelope in his hand. Finally when the lights shone on him, the spotlights revealed former Rebel Pro World Champion “The Coyote” Reece Paxton! Everyone including Larry Gordon asked “What in the jumpin jelly beans is this guy doing here?”

Wilkie was, unlike anyone else, pleased to see him, he clapped his hands alittle, trying to get the crowd to join in.

Wilkie: “Ladies and Gentlemen, unbeknownst to me, please welcome, Former Rebel Pro World Champion… REECE PAXTON!”

The crowd almost explodes with boo’s and jeers, security going into over-time to stop fans from jumping the rail to try and fight him for no particular reason. Reece made his way slowly and calmly to the ring, his head held high and his eyes looking down on everyone else. He walked up the steel steps and slipped between the middle ropes, going up straight up to Wilkie. You could hear over the jeers and boos Reece say “Give me the microphone, old man…”, Wilkie handed it over without a second thought and stepped back, mouthing “the floor is yours.”

Paxton: “Allow me to introduce myself… You might know me as “That fucker who burned your precious title.” or “That guy who fucked up Simon Kalis.” – but here in this ring, you will all refer to me as Mr. Paxton… You see, even though Simon bought up UX, and obtained all the talent there, I neglected to inform him that while he thinks he owns my contract… he really doesn’t… he might want to re-educate himself with the clause right smack dab in the middle of my contract that says I can wrestle with a company as long as its not in the AOWF or isn’t run by someone named Simon Kalis. So as soon as Simon bought UX my contract was null and void, and that’s fine with me, he would’ve signed me to a shit contract anyway…”

He held up the brown envelope though.

Paxton: “However, even when a door closes, I always make sure, I keep a window open, incase I have some unfinished business to attend to, and seeing as how Simon Kalis is still six feet above ground and breathing, my business with his company is far from finished…”

He opened up the envelope and pulled out a long slip of paper.

Paxton: “A while back, when I was recovering from the assault I suffered when Simon Kalis stole my title, I knew my contract was coming to an end, and I knew for a fact I wouldn’t be going back to any company run under the AOWF umbrella, so I decided to wait out my contract… however, three days before the end, Larry Gordon came to my house with his lawyer, and offered me this…”

He held up the paper, if you were sitting front row, you could make out the logo of Rebel Pro Wrestling, and the AOWF, the rest was blurry but it was quite obvious a contract.

Paxton: “Larry Gordon still owned majority of the company, and told me, I could sign this at any point in time and return to Rebel Pro, if I so choose… and even though Larry Gordon does not own any part of Rebel Pro… this contract is still valid… I’d read you the details but you morons probably couldn’t understand it anyway so I’ll lay down the real basic facts for you… if I sign this contract… I’m here for one full year… I cannot be fired… which is much better than what those chumps from UX were offered I can tell you that much… 50,000 dollar bonus? Peanuts to what I’ll be making…”

He smirked a bit.

Paxton: “But you know what… I don’t want to work here, I don’t want to work for a company, that’s owned by a man who’ll just as soon piss in your cereal and tell you its milk, I don’t want to work for a family of sluts, hypocrites, and down right fools, and I sure as hell, don’t want to work infront of a crowd of inbred redneck hicks, who would rather see other inbred hicks hit each other with beer cans, instead of seeing actual wrestling…”

The crowd went crazy with boos and jeers once again. Paxton pulled the paper back down and went to rip it, however, Wilkie stopped him, he had his own microphone again.

Wilkie: “Paxton! Wait wait wait… You don’t want to do that…”

Paxton looked at him, with a look of “How dare you touch me.”

Paxton: “How do you know what I WANT to do?”

Wilkie: “Because I know for a fact, that when I was training you, all you wanted to do was wrestle, remember when you told me that? Remember when you said you’d sooner put a bullet in your brain than work a nine to five?”

Wilkie nodded a bit, he could see he had gotten through to Paxton just a bit.

Wilkie: “Look, I know what its like to work for assholes… I’ve worked for Rob Robinson. I’ve worked for Chameleon, Shit, I worked for Gabe goddamn Shelly, but you know what, I’d suffer them again, if It meant I got to work between these ropes, and for these fans…”

he pointed out to the crowd, he got a short pop from it, “yay someone mentioned us!” they were probably thinking.

Wilkie: “I know you’re a smart guy, Paxton… and I know you know, signing that contract is the right thing to do…”

Wilkie reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen, was this planned? Did wilkie know? Maybe he just likes to be prepared incase contract signings just seem to happen.

Wilkie: “Do the right thing.”

Paxton looked at the pen, then at the contract… he then took the pen and clicked it once, Wilkie nodded, a huge smile on his face. Paxton looked at him, then at the contract again… in one quick stroke his signed his name on the X. The crowd boo’ed louder than ever now, what the hell was Wilkie doing? Is this what was gonna happen if he was going to advise Rebel Pro?

Wilkie was standing back, smiling and clapping saying “I knew you a smart guy, I knew it!”.

Paxton smirked a bit, but then he dropped his microphone, contract and pen, turned around and kicked Wilkie right in the skull! Wilkie hits the mat hard as Paxton stands with his back to him… he takes in a deep breath and slicks his hair back… he turns and reaches down to pick up the microphone he dropped.

Paxton: “Let that be a message… to anyone in the back… for the next year… anyone in the locker room, Simon Kalis… even you Wilkie, You’re all my bitches.”

He drops the microphone again and delivers another hard kick to Wilkie gut, before he leaves the ring. No music, only the cries of outrage at Paxton, as he just laughs sadistically at the sight.

Commercial for Bar be Que, its the south, gotta have one.

Peace Be Upon Him

Sean Robinson stands in an empty REBEL Arena, just minutes before the doors opened to let the waiting crowd into the building. In a matter of moments, this will be a scene of pandemonium as fans rush to their seats, to the concession stand, to the merch booths. But right now, it’s downright peaceful. The crew has finished setting up the ring, so the din of hammers, wrenches, and power tools is long gone. The last preparations for the sound system have been completed, so the PA is silent for a few brief minutes. It’s the calm before the storm, to coin a phrase.

Sean Robinson:
“This is my favorite time, right before a show. Just standing here, looking around at the empty seats. Knowing that any minute now those fans are going to come storming in, begging for autographs and pictures. We’re demigods to these people. They very nearly worship the ground we walk on. And why not? We’re professional athletes, just like Tom Brady or Kobe Bryant. They see us as larger than life, kids look up to some of us, and hate others. The hardcore fans live and die with us, like a sports team’s fans do. We’re their escape from reality, and for a few short hours every week, we are the center of their universe.

But that’s where I stand out. You see, I’m not just the center of {i}their{/i} collective universe, I’m the center of {i}the{/i} universe. I’m the star that everything revolves around. I’m the greatest wrestler in the world. I’m more agile than any gymnast, I’m more charismatic than any actor, I’m stronger than any bodybuilder. I’m not just the perfect wrestler, I’m the perfect human being.

But no… No, not even that is entirely accurate. See, I’m no mere human. I’m the future. I’m the prophecy, and the prophet. I’m the messenger, and the message is me. I am the most high, I am he who is.

In your world, I’m God.”

He smiles, and steps out of the ring before heading to the backstage area.

Youhavetostartfromthebottomfag Match

Sean Robinson vs Jeremy Gold

This match wasn’t even really a match, as Jeremy Gold ran around the ring away from Sean Robinson for nearly the entire length. But eventually, about the five minute mark, Robinson juked and jived, spinning around and pointing out in the crowd next to Jeremy Gold. Gold, thinking this is just a ploy to stop him, shook his head from side to side. Sean pointed viamently though and someone tapped Gold on the shoulder, it was a man covered in blood with vampire teeth hissing at Gold. Jeremy stumbled back, the man laughing, but Gold fell right into Robinson’s arms, he hit his finisher solidly, but was distracted by Bobby Lee who stumbled down the ramp, his face covered in his sugaries. Lee stumbled into the ring yelling at Robinson for hurting his friend Gold and bitch slapped Robinson, who just looked at him, cause of the lack of power. Sean actually laughed at Bobby Lee who punched him with all he was worth, then he began yelling something about aliens, allowing Jeremy to manage an rollup as Lee pushed Robinson, causing him to stumble over Gold. He only got a two count and this served to piss Robinson off and then Lee stumbled out of the ring, following only something he could see and muttering about vampires don’t wear glitter as he stopped to look at the non glitter wearing vampire guy, who hissed and promptly caused Bobby Lee to piss himself as Robinson nailed Gold for the pin.

Winner: Sean Robinson 10:19

Commercial, vote already, well as soon as you can vote, go and do it already

Filmed Earlier

Filmed Earlier-
Tony Edison is seen in a hotel room, though we can’t be sure where. The camera is trained only on him, though we can tell the TV is on, but we have no idea what is on it. It’s audible, but totally indistinguishable. He looks around the room, and finally pays attention to the camera that’s been sitting there for at least a minute while he paced.

Edison: So here we sit now. Underground X Hall of Famer Tony Edison is shipped to North Carolina for this. D’Aquila shows us his worth, which though was an improvement from Willie Williams, was still not good. I did have faith in him, and now, I see I was wrong in thinking it. But these are the mistakes that we make I guess.

He heaves a sigh.

Edison: Seriously though, how did the damn Commies even get into that arena? Jesus. Typical cheap foreigner, doesn’t pay for decent security. He put his talent at risk and fourteen people were fucking murdered. MURDERED!

He tries to collect himself, breathing in and out deeply.

Edison: How he possibly thought he would be able to just brush that under the rug is totally beyond me. But hopefully something will change. This ownership wheel of death is becoming a bore to me.

He gets up and flips the TV off, and sighs again, staring out the window as the camera comes to show a profile view of him.

Edison: And yet here we are, the fourth owner I’ve worked under in the same affiliation. The wheel keeps spinning, but we continue to go nowhere. Just fan-fucking-tastic.

He laughs quietly. His face shows focus, with a hint of exhaustion.

Edison: And speaking of the same tired routines. I wrestle Jonathan Cage again? Jesus, Johnny. It’s like everywhere we go, the people just want me to keep showing that I’m better than you.

A smirk now.

Edison: Cage, we’ve got quite a history. Let’s go back, shall we? First, we’ll start with the Golden Age, although Fisher will probably sue me for this, considering he sued for rights to the old shit before. Whatever. My wallet’s over there, I’m sure I have enough for his fucking royalties. But back to the point. You remember those days Cage? The days of Killah Kain and Sinister Fiend. The days of that huge Cage clan…thing we had. The days that Reno Drake and Larry Fields were actually GOOD.

A huge smile now.

Edison: Yep. Those were the good days, weren’t they? I remember I wasn’t good then though. I was still a rookie. Wet behind the ears. Green. Whatever you want to call it, that was me. And there was a ‘pick on the new guy’ mentality to it all, or so it seemed. But I kept my head up and pushed along, all the way to Fisher going broke and leaving us all unemployed, completely randomly. Funny how the guys who put their asses on the line every week were given fair warning to find new work, eh?

Another chuckle, then back to his focused stare out the window.

Edison: Fast forward. We open again, only to close again. What’s there to say? It was a mistake to go back, and I know that now. But you learn from those mistakes. Anyway. We fast forward another four years. I get a call from Larry Fields! Imagine the surprise when he says he’s calling the “Original” UX clan back.

He nods, remembering back.

Edison: He called me, you, and Drake. He wanted to bring us back to show what we had. To show this generation that UX was ours, and always would be. But you had other plans. You sided with John Fisher and Reno Drake and your daughter. Now don’t get me wrong, that’s cool and all. But then you bailed anyway. You showed nothing of what we were about.

Shaking his head now, just so confused.

Edison: Then you come back as some sort of fucking AoWF Invasion plot? Man, screw that. That’s where the line was drawn, Cage. You had the balls to say you were “sooo” good, but hid behind fucking Simon Kalis the entire time. Christ, Cage, you just can’t grow a set of testicles at all, can you?

Edison turns directly to the camera now, staring straight into the lens.

Edison: And here we are, one on one yet again. I could go on a whole tangent about how I’m better than you, but I think that would be pointless. So I’ll leave it at this. Cage, I have no respect left for your ass. You’ve given me no reason to have any. But what you have given me a reason to do is beat you shitless. And I’ll do it with pride. I’ll do it with the UX crowd behind me the entire time. Because REBEL is not my home. AoWF is not my home. The Underground is, and it always will be. You can say whatever you want, but the fact of the matter is, I don’t care. I’m not doing it for anybody except myself. So say what you want, but we both know that when it comes down to it, I am a thousand times the man and superstar that you could ever dream to be. See you in the ring, motherfucker.

Singles Match of Ranoutofoddmatchtitleideas

Tony Edison vs Jonathan Cage

– Across from each other are two men who’ve fought countless battles in Underground X, but this time, there’s something at stake. No, not any championship or contendership, but one of two, depending who. For Jonathan, he seeks redemption coz his track has taken a sheer drop after a proverbial burial last week by Jake Norton, and a loss to indie darling, Tony Edison, would take the final eWo heavyweight champion down an unwanted course of derision. On the flip side, Edison comes into this match packing loads of ammo due to word-of-mouth hype of him being an astronomical defier of not just gravity but modern aerialist limits. Beating an established wrestler in the mainstream limelight would be desirable so Edison can penetrate a newfound audience.

-Five brief seconds pass during a silent and fixated dogging between these two, and lord only knows what went through their minds. You could make a valid case for what Edison likely thought, because, Edison unexpectedly ran forth like a rad samurai from some anime. Halfway across, Edison deliberately drops to the canvas but he still continues forward via baseball slide, which gets a response of leapfrog from Jonathan Cage. When Cage avoided the close encounter, Edison resurrected to his feet energetically as a certain heartbreak kid would. Straight after, Cage went to shoulder tackle Edison into the turnbuckle in front of them, but spidey senses tingled, so Edison mule kicked Cage in the midsection, then immediately sprung forward into the ropes and flew skyward for a moonsault legdrop that sent a bent Cage head-first into the mat! Fans popped, understandably, but Cage’s kickout before the second count surprised many!

-One minute later, a cockier than usual side of Edison shines when he reuses the ropes to launch himself into a rising Jonathan Cage with intentions to perform Cage’s own ‘springboard roundhouse kick’ but soon as Edison sprung, Cage spears! And what should have happened after that is Edison eats a spear, but instead, the slick acrobatic slips an arm around Cage’s head, so a headlock would help counter the spear midair into a DDT, which it fucking did. And fans once again creamed at the faster-than-a-blink double counter!

-Staying in control the next three minutes after that sweetness, Edison relies on safer go-to moves, such as: corkscrew plancha, slingshot senton, hurricanranas and flurries of forearm smashes. For the most part, Edison manhandled Cage, till Jonathan whipped a comic-book style comeback of kickboxing at a rate comparable to Mortal Kombat! Having backed Edison into a turnbuckle, Cage retaliated for Edison’s cheeky attempt of ‘Into the Light II’ (springboard roundhouse kick) by doing just that, and Cage’s roundhouse nearly broke Edison’s neck, it seemed! But we can assume it didn’t coz Edison raised the shoulder inches away from the third count.

-Setting Edison atop a turnbuckle, Cage backhand slaps the former Uncensored Champion twice, to some of our crowd’s amusement. Jonathan then climbs onto the second buckle, palms Edison in the mouth for good measure – that brought a wad of saliva shooting out of Tony’s mouth – double underhooks both of Edison’s arms – “This looks like a murder attempt” Gordon speculates – then dives backward for a piledriver!! “A DOUBLE UNDERHOOK PILEDRIVER” Linzi shouts into her headset at the sight of Edison bleeding from the forehead upon being turned over by Cage, who then cross-presses. Although that may have been the end of others, Edison upsets with a kickout before the two! “HOW IS HE NOT UNCONSCIOUS?!” Gordon wonders loudly.

- Shaking his head in disbelief, Cage then punches Edison once in the chest and twice in the testicles! That would be illegal in other AoWF promotions, but REBEL is marketed as ultra violent for a reason. Now wearing a crimson mask, Tony Edison is pulled onto his feet and locked in Cage’s headlock. Taking time to trash talk Edison, Cage delays whatever he planned, so Tony unleashes remaining strength for an overhead bridging suplex! Smartly releasing his headlock to power out, Cage stands only to dumbly have his story cut short by Edison’s Pele kick! Falling onto the canvas like dead meat, Cage permits Edison to rush up a nearby turnbuckle and corkscrew moonsault onto his upper spine! From there, all Edison had to do was roll Cage over, hook the leg and let the ref count the three!

Winner: Tony Edison in 12 mins, 27 secs

Commercial provided to you, free of charge, but it costs the sponsors a ton of freaking money and you probably just fast forwarded it or went to the fridge and got your ass something to eat and drink.

To The World, III

By the hand, Susan Boyle is led through the backstage area nearest to what is commonly referred to as ‘Gorilla Position’, where the PA system and curtains separate ringside and backstage. Acting as Susan’s guide is, of course, Jake Norton! Wearing plain and purely orange tights, black patent boots, and his ‘Cancer 3:16 – Spread Cancer’ vest, the lazy-eyed spectacle happily heads for the curtains, but Susan is visibly hesitant. When they came to the steel steps which would take them onto a small platform and a black curtain, Susan chose this moment to cease movement.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: I’m having second thoughts..

Nose flaring and eyebrows frown in annoyance, Norton’s honest feelings are masked within two seconds to deceive Susan with a more caring and sympathetic facial expression, which is successful.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Somewhere in this building, Justin is preparing himself to confess his equally deep and poetic love for you, too, Susan. Unfortunately, Justin is just as shy and vulnerable as you, Susan. He’s unsure of how to go about proposing. It’s you who must breakthrough if anything is to come of this.

Boosting her confidence and diminishing her fear, Norton continues up the stairway, and Susan follows as the incongruous tune of John Williams’ “E.T.” main theme notifies waiting fans of a new happening. Way down at ringside, Linzi Martin and Larry Gordon analyze this entrance, with Gordon being regularly pessimistic of this segment’s direction. So far, Norton’s came across as a textbook gentleman for allowing Susan to walk up the steps first, then jumping onto the apron to create an opening for Susan to step through. Predictably, REBEL Pro fans are somewhat aloof.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: My dear audience, I know that celebrity guest appearances are not your choice of drink, but please, give this a chance. It’s relevant!

Turning his attention to a nervous Susan, Norton sits his forearm atop her shoulder.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: I know how much Justin Case means to you lots.

Now, some voices retort bad words for the ‘Millennium Game’ from the seats.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: But he means more to this sweet pearl.

That forearm which rests on Susan’s shoulder wakens and hugs Susan’s lower backside, gently.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Your fan-mails have reached the internet, Susan.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: Have they?

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Yes. They’re quite passionate. Your heart was on full display.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: I see..

Softly curling his cheek at the sight of Susan’s metaphorical sad panda, Norton licks his sticky lips like a windshield wiper.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: The twisted promise of murdering a PWA official if Justin wished it, is startling.

Apparently not one to deal with Norton’s obvious toying, Susan’s eyes start swelling with tears and her lips pout, childlike.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: What have you, REBEL Fans, is Susan Boyle a mental loser?

Responding with a ‘hell yeah’, most of our audience jumps on the ‘shit-on-crazy-cat-lady’ bandwagon.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: What are you doing?? Are you having a laugh at my expense?

Smirking dickishly, Norton nods, and Susan’s flabbergasted!

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: Have you tricked me??

Shrugging with the smirk still intact, Norton looks out into the audience for support.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: To be honest, Susan, I’ve dragged you out here to send a message. Not to hook you up with Justin’s digits.

Mouth drops agape, and then Susan’s hand flies and slaps Norton! The REBEL Fans typically and collectively say, “Ooooh” but in a playful tone rather than actual surprise.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: I deserved that. Really, this is wrong of me. But, Susan, you of all people should know, wrestling fans love watching celebrities take a bump.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: Pardon me?

Toe kicking Susan in her disgusting camel toe (or floppy gut), Norton then impressively deadlifts what is likely a 260lb old hag.

{b}Linzi Martin{/b}: OH NO!

{b}Larry Gordon{/b}: SHE’S FIFTY-ONE, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!

Starfire Deluxe ’08 (stalling brainbuster) drops Susan Boyle onto her fragile head, instantly knocking her unconscious! As expected, Fans ignite like a mouthful of pop rocks.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Oh thank god, she was terrible! I’ve spent the better half of this week working her into coming!

{b}Larry Gordon{/b}: Yeah, beating on a helpless senior is a loud message, alright.

{b}Linzi Martin{/b}: I’m sure the media will have a field day with this one. Yay for free publicity?

Stepping onto the second turnbuckle, Norton situates himself in his favorite position.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Hey, you in the third row.

One female fan in particular holding who is possibly her baby, scowls at ‘Cancer Man’.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: I can understand how you’d not take kindly to my shtick, but, birdie, this is my version of the orange revolution. See, Adrian Kalis may be more about thrills and Benjamin Dyce prefers slamming bitches through canvases, but I swim in controversy. This is a well-known fact. Do I reckon ‘controversy creates cash’ (or even cake)? Sure, but I don’t base my prerogatives on what reaps the most quid. In all actuality, I’m about doing whatever I, myself, find funny. Planting Susan Boyle on her head is unfortunately one of those ripsnorters.

PWA or TGW fans might find Norton’s actions despicable, but REBELs are not a wholly politically correct fanbase. These are bloodthirsty; dark-humored bunches who’re about ‘rolfs’.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Since we’re on the subject of my notoriety, let’s revisit those questions I asked you all to note. Last week, I answered “what challenge does Norton offer his peers” by grounding Jonathan Cage in realism. This week, I’m answering “what difference will Norton make in REBEL considering all the notorious baggage he carries?”

Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Norton’s lips move silently in a manner indicating mumbles.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: To put it simply, Justin, I am willing to do things that others are not. Not many have the nuts to do what I just did to Susan Boyle. Why? Because she’s old, has a vagina, and has the IQ of a Justin Case fan. They’d cringe at the heavy fire I might take from our network, REBEL’s administration, and all sorts of other uptight critics. But you know what, Justin? There are people out there who massively enjoyed what I just did, and that’s why I http://canadianpharmacyviagra-norx.com/ did it. I’m providing them the entertainment they want. Put it this way, if the AoWF were food, it’d be a pretzel without salt. I am looking to spice things up by just doing things my own way; trying to stick out of this sea of same. That’s all the people want from us wrestlers; personality.

Turning around so Norton sits atop the turnbuckle, he slouches forward.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: The Orange Revolution isn’t a highly-evolved movement on how to innovate or the like. Basically, the whole point of us is to just encourage distinction, but rightfully. Me? I do controversy better than anyone. I can’t be absurd like Anna Mathews. That’s her gig. Simon Kalis is the best at being badass. And The Phoenix masters the art of no-selling. Those are three people off the top who can draw, entertain both on the mic and in the ring, and don’t have to worry about millimeter game, Justin Case, taking their spots.

Inhaling air through a quick but somehow arrogant sniff, Norton’s eyes dart sideways.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: “Behind the scenes, your manager, the Jizz, is your ring-rat. I get it. That guy blows his load over whatever you do, but you should ditch him. He’s not improving your image nor legitimizing your claims of ‘talent’. What’s the point of a manager, anyway? To help someone who can’t promote themselves beneficially, right? Well, Justin, just like Jonathan Cage before you, I doubt anybody thinks of Justin Case when discussing ‘good promos’ or matches, even without this wiz of TALENT.

A lot of your math-talk just doesn’t add up, either. Like, for example, you keep exaggerating how fucking ‘talented’ you are, and, for the life of me, I don’t get how anyone tolerates listening to you? Maybe fans get through a Justin Case promo knowing Dale Petty comes on next, or that someone, like me, is bound to call you out for all this bullshitting, and it’ll be funny.

Oh, here’s one thing really awful about you. You actually label yourself as a franchise killer. Why? What fucking ‘franchise’ have you killed? What makes you think you have this humungous amount of heat that enables this piss-poor fantasy of you being someone that important? This just makes no fucking sense. It would if you were a parody of all the shitty wrestlers out there like Alison James, but you’re not. You’re actually, honest-to-god bad. This is who you are, and what you do with your energy. And it’s offensive.

Frankly, Justin, what really grinds me is that I know there are many fools just like you in the AoWF. There has to be, otherwise why the need for a Movement? Adrian Kalis wouldn’t start a revolution if things weren’t pitifully trite. No, I’m offended because even though I’ve said many valid points in this promo, it was done rather basic. Like, I don’t feel it’s been all that creative, yet the notion of me needing to be creative against such an unoriginal, uninteresting, an anticlimactic threat of an ‘opponent’, is rubbish.”

Distracted by his intense promo, Norton doesn’t see Susan Boyle stirring in the background.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Sometimes, whenever I hear one of your promos, Justin, I envision you being real fucking ecstatic afterward, thinking you’ve just said some deep shit, and rightfully so after the Jizz finishes stroking your unreasonably gigantic, inflatable ego, but then depressingly crushed after jobbing out to Mister Hardcore, you fucking loser.

Now standing, Susan Boyle seems majorly lost in a cartoonish haze, judging by her silly looks. Becoming aware of this, Norton hops off his spot and approaches.

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Susan, love. You’ve taken a fall for the worse!

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: Herve Aye?

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Yes. You’re supposed to be singing, not taking a snooze.

Giving Susan the microphone, she instinctively begins her a cappella.

{b}Susan Boyle{/b}: I dreamed a dream in time gone by. When hope was high and life worth living, I dreamed that love would never die!

Suddenly toe kicked once more, the crowd erupts as Norton plants her with another stalling brainbuster!

{b}Jake Norton{/b}: Fuck you, Justin Case. This show isn’t yours, it belongs to the Orange Revolution, you colorless bitch. Get out here so I can close this case.

Susan Boyle First Blood Match

Justin Case vs Jake Norton

Jake Norton met Justin Case in the center of the ring and began to just pound away on the returning 2 time Rebel Pro World Champion. Norton wouldn’t let up either and while Case did manage some offense, it was not near enough as Norton was just dominating him from post to post and side to side. It got so violently against Case at one point that Dale Petty came down to watch, as we all know he doesn’t like Justin Case at all. Dale gave his nod of approval to Jake, which allowed Justin to get in a bit of offense, nailing Norton with a chair; though Dale tried to warn Norton about the weapon. Justin beat Norton down in the corner, but was unable to make him bleed at all, then he noticed Dale Petty near ringside and began to jaw at him as Dale was holding his favorite hoomemade weapon “Ripper” at his side Dale looked over Justin’s shoulders, causing him to spin around, and here came Susan to try and stop Petty from interfering. Dale slipped the bat in to Norton as Case tried to keep Susan from getting involved in the match. Dale patted Norton on the shoulder and as Case turned back around, Norton nailed him with the aluminum bat wrapped in barbed wire, covered in tacks, glass, and old blood; causing his forehead to split and a crimson mask to appear.

Winner: Jake Norton 19:37

Commercial ffor AOWF, we encourage you to do something

I Am Macca!

Enter the Cunt Guy

Pushing aside the big metal/wood hybrid door, Macca makes his way into the REBEL arena. Stopping for a moment to take in his new surroundings with a quick rotation of his head, Macca adjusts the strap of the bag over his arm before letting his trademark shit eating smirk settle on his face. Moving to continue forward he is stopped by REBEL reporter, Marvin Humperdink, who has appeared in front of him out of thin air as most reporters tend to have a habit of doing (like fucking paparazzi ninjas or something).

Macca:
Sweet fucking….. Where did you come from?

Marvin Humperdink:
Mr. McDonald, I was hoping I could get your comments on entering the REBEL arena for the first time as a roster member.

Macca stares at Humperdink for a moment. Did that fucker just use his real name? Oh heeeeeell no girlfriend!

Macca:
First off the name is Macca. Nothing more, nothing less. As for REBEL? It’s a snazzy little place. I could see myself fitting in here very nicely.

Marvin’s head rockets around like an imitation bobble head doll as he agrees to whatever leaves Macca’s mouth.

Marvin Humperdink:
You already have won over some of the REBEL fans but the great majority are still yet to open up to you. Mind you, you still have the support of the old UX fans. With that said do you think your momentum at winning championships in UX and the small, but very vocal, group of followers you have will allow you to reach the same heights you did in UX here in REBEL?

Macca:
Well Marv’ there are some things that the REBEL fans need to learn. They think that I come in here as a UX star trying to say I am better than every current REBEL star just because I came from the X. That is crap. They say that I shouldn’t blow my own trumpet just because I won some championships in UX. There they are correct. A UX championship doesn’t mean shit here, hell it hardly meant fuck all there also, as proved by the fact I ended up dumping one in a bin in the arena car.

That head of Marvin’s is bobbling like a mad motherfucker as Macca continues on.

Macca:
The reason I won championships in UX is not because of UX itself but because of one thing, and that things is called Macca. I plan to keep my steam rolling up here in REBEL and not because I have to show everyone up because I’m one of the new guys from the company that folded but simply because I am Macca and REBEL has just become my fucking Sparta!

Ohhhhhhhhh shit! Throw down the fucking gauntlet Macca! Scribbling something down on a note pad that is conveniently in his hands, Marvin continues on with his next question.

Marvin Humperdink:
Speaking of keeping up momentum, Your first opponent in REBEL will be Dale Petty, a REBEL household name. Do you have any worries about your debut match? Have you done your research on your opponent?

Macca:
Honestly I know sweet fuck all about this bloke. I suppose I could have looked into some of his history with REBEL but honestly what would be the point? When your background is beating the piss out of blokes who have had a few too many, you quickly learn that knowing somebody’s background really isn’t needed to beat their ass down. I have been told that he is a former champion himself, although that means as much to me as my championship history probably means to him. There is one thing however that has got me curious. An interesting little fact that I caught so I want to extend this question out to him to see if he can give me an answer.

Macca has a cross between a look of confusion and humour on his face as he leans into the camera.

Macca:
Dale, did your parents give you a name that would result in your initials being DP because they didn’t know if you would grow up to be an asshole or a cunt so thought ‘fuck it, we’ll just go with both to be safe’? Cheers that, cunts!

And with that Macca leaves Marvin and continues his walk down the halls of his new home.

Good Time

Dale Petty sits in the backstage area of some arena, we know it isn’t the one most recently used, well at least there isn’t any crowd noise. Dale sits on a wooden folding chair, one of the vintage kind, his forearms on his knees and his head hanging down to face the floor.

“Underground X invading Rebel Pro… it all seems sort of, familiar… if you know what I mean.”

A chuckle.

“But of course you all wouldn’t because you all weren’t here during those times, none of you wrestlers were anyways. Sure the rump wrangling faggat Justin Case was there for a bit of it but can you even count someone who’s mission it is to beat Jeremy Gold’s ass?”

He raises his head to reveal a raised eyebrow.

“If that doesn’t confirm that he’s a ass banging butt pirate, then I guess he’ll have to put pink bows in his hair and go around singing Shirly Temple tunes while wearing a tu tu and olaying like a ballarena.”

He shakes his head in disgust.

“But the more important thing is this invasion by Underground X, or the purchase of it by Simon Kalis, or whatever in the fuck really happened, because I don’t give a damn. All I know is that I’ve been around this company nearly since its inception and finally there is some new blood to spill.”

He smirks.

“Except for Marina Blue and Sean Robinson, for the most part. Anyways, there is a couple of familiar faces coming back, back to the place where their blood is spilt most often and most assuredly in great quantities.”

He leans back, pulling out a Marlboro Menthol Light and lighting up.

“But I’ve got one of the baddest apparently in Macca this week…”

He sits back still, squinting through the smoke.

“Apparantly one of the baddest asses in all of the UX federation, facing off against terroristic threats, then bashing the former owner in the face with a beer bottle.”

He nods.

“Good job son, but you are facing someone who has done tht before, and much worse. Ask your new boss who kicked his ass all over a junkyard. Sure, I’ll go ahead and tell you that he did defeat me, but that still doesn’t mean that I didn’t kick his ass all over that junkyard… as he did mine. See if you can get ahold of Rex Caliber, ask him what all we did to each other… in case you are wondering, he’s the former guy in charge round these parts. See, I’ve always been at management’s throat, so I’ve got a bit of appreciation for that sort of thing, even if its all been done before. You gotta get your little shot in, bloody his face, humiliate him, all sorts of fun things.”

He flicks the ash.

“But you are talking to someone who has done it all, seen all the movies, got the entire series of t-shirts… and don’t give a shit what you are trying here.”

He’s starting to growl.

“While I do apprecinate the effort… this is my playground asshole. This is my yard, this is my dominion and I’ve got the daddy pants on. I’m the big bully that people give their lunch money to and when they watch all of those help films that tell them to stand up to the bully…”

He smirks.

“I’m the bully that kicks their ass then takes their lunch money anyways.”

Another flick.

“So, I don’t give a damn what you’ve done in the past, what championships you’ve held, the number of matches that you’ve won.”

A shake of the head.

“Not because that happened in Underground X and this is Rebel Pro… but simply because I don’t give a shit about that. See Macca, you’ve not watched me, I’ve not watched you… we know next to nothing about each other, so let me be professor Dale Petty for right now…”

He leans forward.

“I’ve bloodied more people than you can ever hope to dream of, I’m like the universal menstrul man… because I make everyone bleed, cramp up, and bleed some more… except I don’t just stay around for five or so days… I’m here all the fucking time. I make you bleed, I make you cry out in pain, and then I smile as I rub salt in that wound… because I am a bad ass sum bitch and I don’t back down from nobody.”

He flicks the ash again, then takes a drag.

“That is why I don’t give a flying free fuck what you’ve done in the past, because it don’t matter a damn. You’ll bleed just like Simon Kalis will. You’ll bleed just like Jeremy Gold will. You’ll bleed just like the hopeless wonder Bobby Lee… But my question is this Macca… will you scream and cry like Justin Case will? Will you beg for mercy like Justin Case? Will you ask me to stop like Justin Case will? Will you be a man and take your ass whooping or will you curl up like a little girl…”

He shrugs and smiles.

“Justin Case-like?”

He puts the cigarette down, grinding it out on the floor.

“I’m glad you all came to Rebel Pro, hell Macca, I even like you a little bit. I like your style… it reminds me of myself. But with that said, I’ve been there, I’ve done that, I’ve kicked ass and not worried about names. You will be nothing more to me than another notch on my belt if I win and just another ass that I’ve kicked if I lose the match.”

He smirks.

“So regardless of whether I win or regardless of I lose, one garantee that you and everyone else can have is this… I’m kicking someone’s ass and they are going to know who I am. Virgil liked his technical wrestling, I love my hardcore… who came out on top? Who won that match? Who kicked that ass?”

He just stares at the camera.

“I’m not saying the name, but you are looking right at him and listening to his promo. I look forward to our first match Macca, bring the pain motherfucker, bring the motherfucking pain. If I ain’t seeing stars, I ain’t having fun… and I want to have fun. If I don’t see your blood… then I ain’t having a good time… and I always have a good time.”

{fade}

REBEL Icon versus X’erground Legend!

Rebel Legend vs X’er Legend

Dale Petty vs Macca

- Dale Petty, a beer-drinking, tobacco-smoking, bare-knuckle extremist, who also happens to be a former World Heavyweight Champion, meets another beer-drinking, but rubber-duck-loving, lippy, yippee-kai-yay cuntster, in Macca, the last Undisputed Champion of UX. Regular viewers of the REBEL product are depressingly ignorant to the heavenly buildup smarks are gleefully heaping. Heck, once you see the match for yourself, one would wonder why Simon Kalis booked an easy pay-per-view main event on a weekly edition of Aggression. But, that’s just it. Only those exposed to both men’s careers would recognize the dreaminess quality. Many are not. So, for Macca, defeating the highly regarded Bubba J (or Dale Petty, whichever you prefer) would skyrocket his reputation. Alternatively, Bubba needs this win to secure himself as REBEL’s top dog unless he wants to be flicked away by these X’er invaders looking to claim high ranking.

- Almost divided in support, the crowd chants back-and-forth for their boys. “X’er Cunt! X’er Cunt!” could only mean Macca, whose trademark shit-eating smirk is evident, whilst “Bubba J! Bubba J!” is a no-brainer. However, it should be noted, Dale’s support is larger in numbers but Macca’s is passionately noisy. “Even though Underground X is dead, fans of that small, western promotion are ever-growing.” Linzi acknowledges. “Commercial success in postmortem is bittersweet.” Gordon believes.

- Circling one another, Dale and Macca feel each other out with soft jabs that don’t make contact but see where both are at, mentally. Neither pussy out; in fact, out of the blue, both explode at center, blasting each other with lefts and rights, like fucking super saiyans! Fans collectively cheer as they watch both men keep their ground in this throwdown; waiting to see who backs down first. Thirty seconds pass before both men simultaneously retreat into their corners. Macca, whose lip is busted, skin around eyes are puffing, and right arm is shielding his ribs, obnoxiously grins at a nose-bleeding, red-in-the-face, Dale Petty, who also returns the grin.

- Coming out of the corners together, they meet in the center of the ring, once more, but this time exchanging words rather than fists. Fans eagerly await the next whirlwind, and, who knows what Dale said, but it prompted a sharp Cuntster slap, which triggers another storm of knuckle sandwiches! Surpassing the thirty second mileage of their previous dance, who knows how long the pair would’ve stayed at this blow-for-blow rate, if not for Dale ramming Macca in the gut with his knee! “Macca fans didn’t like Dale resorting to a knee strike” Gordon observes. “There’s nothing wrong with that” Linzi defends. “Nope, but the two were obviously testing out each other’s punch-power” Gordon retorts. “That’s unspoken for.” Linzi finishes.

- After the ‘game-changing’ knee shot, Dale uppercuts Macca into the ropes, making it easier to light the Cuntster up with body shots! “Macca was nursing his stomach earlier, who knows what damage is happening now” Linzi says as one more uppercut sends Macca backward, over-the-top-rope and tumbling along the outside! Ascending the turnbuckle, Dale’s ax handle drop clonks Macca upon his standing! Right after, a Russian leg-sweep into the guardrail wounds them both equally, but to Dale’s preference.

- Can after can, Dale pours beer given to him by fans onto Macca, who’s having trouble adjusting his senses after being tossed from a military pressed position into a ringpost. Talking some mad trash to the little Cuntster, Dale then snap suplexes Macca into the guardrail, spine-first! Naturally, after such a sick bump, many would assume it safe for Dale to push Macca inside the ring and cover, but Macca disagrees via raised shoulder! Mounting the Cunt, Bubba’s rapid thunder strikes crack Macca’s face as if pavement. “This is the second crimson mask we’ve seen tonight!” Gordon recognizes.

- Pulling a wounded Macca onto his feet, (blood spilling to the mat and limbs hanging loosely, Macca looks very much done) Dale positions Macca’s head between his thighs. Trying to lift the 170lbs Australian, Macca prevents by deadening his weight and falling onto his knees. Very predictably, Macca then uppercuts Dale’s testicles, producing a hoarse groan from the multi World Champion, and rape tackles Dale onto the canvas, concluding in a tight schoolboy that narrowly gets the three! “DID DALE KICK OUT?! IT LOOKS LIKE HE KICKED OUT!” Linzi yells, baffled by the finish! “Let’s get a replay” Gordon calls. When the footage reviews the final seconds, Dale kicked out a millisecond too late!

- As wild as football fans buzz for their team scoring a goal, Macca’s victory surprisingly gets well-deserved approval! At first, the Cunt seemed unsure of what he just viagra generico online accomplished, but that toothy grin reappears, letting us know he’s solved the puzzle!

Winner: Macca in 11 mins, 2 seconds

Commercial for something else, but again you probably went outside to fill your lungs with a ton of cancerous causing smoke as you puff on a cigarette causing more smoke to climb into the air than a coal driven locomotive back in the 1800s

Herrrrres Johnnnnnnny!

Johnny wakes up to film his segment. He yawns and pours himself a glass of orange juice. He takes a drink and then has a look at the calendar. He truns and spits out his orange juice in the face of his roommate Allen who had just walked into the room.

Johnny: {color=dodgerblue}OCTOBER 29TH!?!?!{/color}

Allen: {color=yellow}You spat orange juice in my face.{/color}

Johnny: {color=dodgerblue}OCTOBER 29th!?!?!?!{/color}

Allen: {color=yellow}Yes. That is the current date.{/color}

Johnny storms out of the room and into his very large closet.

Johnny: {color=dodgerblue}Come on! I have a costume for you, too!{/color}

Allen: {color=yellow}Costume?{/color}

——————————————————————–

{size=200}HALLOWEEN TIPS!{/size}
{size=175}FEATURING: THE CRIMSON GHOST!{/size}

Allen is wearing a sloppily pieced together costume with a hunch on it’s back.

Allen: {color=yellow}This is retarded.{/color}

The Crimson Ghost enters the room, as frightening as ever.

The Ghost: {color=red}Oh, I’m sorry…would you rather be in your ridiculous cartoon dog costume?{/color}

Allen: {color=yellow}First off,{/color} {url=http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/293701_10151366131068296_1182626318_n.jpg}my costume this year is awesome.{/url} {color=yellow}Secondly, you could have at least put some effort into it.{/color}

The Ghost: {color=red}Oh, give it a rest Algor.{/color}

Algor: {color=yellow}Is that supposed to be like ‘igor’? Because I sound like a character from the Chronicles of Narnia.{/color}

The Ghost: {color=red}Silence. Good evening, boys and ghouls. Welcome to my humble abode where I, the Crimson Ghost will be teaching you the do’s and dont’s of Halloween. I’m something of an authority on the subject. What is the first do, you ask? DO make the trick or treaters work for it. I went….overboard on the lawn decorations this year.{/color}

We cut to a child in a mummy costume approaching the house only to be greeted by a well crafted, terribly violent display of brutality on the front lawn. Like a scene out of one of the ‘Saw’ films. The child runs from the house screaming and we cut back to The Ghost in his home holding a full bowl of candy.

The Ghost: {color=red}Saves you a TON of money on candy….though admittedly that doesnt balance out considering the cost of the display. Hm. Anyway, our second tip is very important. DO Wear a good costume! If a trick or treater makes it through the hellish display on your lawn and they have gone the extra mile as far as costuming goes, make sure they are rewarded.{/color}

We cut to a group of children ringing the doorbell, each of them dressed to the nines as a member of ‘The Avengers’. Algor answers the door and gives each of them a full sized candy bar and sends them on their way.

The Ghost (voiceover): {color=red}But DON’T reward kids in bad costumes. In fact, the opposite is my reccomended approach.{/color}

A second group of children show up, each dressed as an Avenger as well but there was clearly less effort. Thor had a bedsheet cape, Captain America had a garbage can lid shield. This would not do. The Crimson Ghost opens the door and vomits blood all over them and they run away screaming. He closes the door and turns back to Algor.

Algor: {color=yellow}You…are one sick fuck.{/color}

The Ghost: {color=red}And the following is just a good life lesson….DON’T be Might and Magic. You see, Might and Magic have the misfortune of being teamed against the pairing of Johnny Maverick and Anna Mathews. These unfortunate souls should be pitied, but instead let us celebrate the oncoming victory of ‘Kontroversy Kreates Kake’, a tram of multi-time world champions facing off against two men who will go down in the history books for being…Rob Robinsons friends. Can you endure the insanity? Could you possibly survive the accumulated wrestling talent? Do you think you can stop these two from getting to the REBEL Pro Tag Team Titles? Cesar Salazar will not stop them. Deicide will not stop them. Moke Doshky and the Dragon will not stop them. Anna Mathews are the Full-sized candy bars of the wrestling world. Might and Magic are the Popcorn ball and the Toothbrush. The shitty throw-away non-candy.{/color}

Algor: {color=yellow}Harsh.{/color}

The Ghost: {color=red}Speaking of which, that reminds me of our last tip.{/color}

We cut to Algor and The Crimson Ghost taking Allens nephew Rusty trick-or-treating. Rusty rings the doorbell and gives a good ‘Trick Or Treat’ only to have a pencil put in his trick or treat bag. The Crimson Ghost steps in front of Rusty and spits a mist of blood in the mans eyes. He starts writhing on the ground in pain. The Ghost turns to the camera and removes his mask. Gasp! It’s Johnny! Oh wait, everyone already knew that.

Johnny: {color=dodgerblue}Quality is key. Never accept any less than the best. Happy Halloween.{/color}

Johnny smirks as we fade to black.

Yakkity Yack

Seeing as how this is one of those “wrestler comes out and yaks on a microphone” segments, the commentators are rendered useless and are replaces by cardboard cutouts. Besides, it’s not like we really care what they’re saying during these things. But we’ll pretend.

Commentator Uno: Bork Bork Bork bork bork bork.

Commentator Dos: Wins wins inny wins ins winner!

Suddenly, a wild Dodo appears to the delight of everyone! She has the Aggression shiny in hand. But she doesn’t walk to the ring. Anna drives in with an invisible car that seems to sputter and wheeze all the time. Confetti is everywhere and cake is provided. As she nears the ring, her ride breaks down forcing as lot of kicking at air. She snatches a microphone. Shocker.

Anna Mathews: Hold et! Befoure I sai annyfing, I no that yer probably gonna hear a lotta ranty boring stuffs in the near future and four that, I sincerely apologize but…wood joo guise mynd yif aye gots own my own soapbox and started bitchin’?

Naturally, they don’t. Anna drops the mic and wanders over to the commentater’s booth. She crawls over the table in between whatever commentating team in occuping it at the time. (Seriously. We’ve got like what? Twenty? Can any of them speak Spanish?) After rummaging under the desk. She finally finds her soapbox and hurls it into the ring cialis com 4 comprimidos where it makes a perfect landing. Many gitting into the ring shenanigans later…

Anna Mathews: Mmm-kai. Furst question. Hoo the hell envited olive these UX Peeps?

Fairly mixed reactions. Sure, you’ve got the Underground X marks going nuts and the pure Rebel fans getting all grr-like. But quite a few of ‘em still don’t know what to make of it all.

Anna Mathews: Meh. It’s okay. I don’t mind new fases. Oar iz it old faces? Because I no mii an old Deicide met somewhere…

Cheap pop for Victory. Fuck yeah, Victory.

Anna Mathews: …but the guy next tu him ish something different. Rich, powerful, actually nose how to groom hisself. An supposedlee, they were oar are or should be Rebel Pro’s taggy champs because Matt Stone izza living vat of chickenshit and Emily Corlen followed him ‘round lika puppey dawg right out of Rebel.

Le shrug.

Anna Mathews: Whatevs, man. Me purrsonally, Eye prefer to actually earn my shinys. Thar’s a bit moar accomplishment than simple saying “Wii usta be champs there and you haz none and we want them”. But I cee the point. There’s nut really vewwy many teams here. Why the hell not?

She raises a finger.

Anna Mathews: Xcept there ish still one. And really, we’ve had a momento to kinda heal ourselves and whatever. Besides the champions arr only as good as their competition. That’s why whenever ye old conkshell sounds off, the KKK answers the call.

Cheering! Yay!

Anna Mathews: Den we go frum one slice of gold to the other. Our world champion, Robbie McRobberson…whoops. I’m sorry. I mean the Phoenix and only the Phoenix, our new dark overlord.

All the booing in the stands. All the eye rolls in the ring.

Anna Mathews: Bitch, plz. You’re a Yoo-hoo obessesed millionaire whose making up this whole “RAWR CHAIN OF DESTRUCTION” schtick inn an attempt to regrow ur balls after reneging on yet another lolretirement. Here’s a newsflash, homeskillet. You can play supervillian til the cow’s come home and you may scare a few lil kids, but at the end of the dai? You’re knot that grrrrate, you’re nawt that special, n the vast majority ov us are already tired of this shit. You’re stil the syame flaky jackass that wins only when you attempt to giv a damn. Or when yer hoddie buddies deside to attack mii from behind.

Growing “Dat Ass” chant as she facepalms. Fucking double entendres. Fix it!

Anna Mathews: Hay! Speaking of attacking from behind, wat abowt Vrgil Keenan?

Congratulations! It evolved into a “Fuck you, Virgin” chant! Well, I guess that was inevitable. Everybody hates that cunt.

Anna Mathews: Ja kno, that maskie may covver up his face, but it kan’t hyde the yellow streak down his back. Two weeks ago after Virge got demolished by Great Poohbah Norton, he desided ta turn on my match ‘cause yif he couldn’t win, at least his ideals could win in the form of the Purist, rite?

For no reason whatsoever, PuppetSimon suddenly bungie jumps from the rafters and whips out an air horn. ENNNNNNT!

Anna Mathews: Wrong. In a match that completelee fractured hiz pour microscpic brain, he saw hiz arch-nemesis generic viagra review actually out rassle Marvin Wood. It cunfused him because ever cents the furst time he laid eyes awn me, he considered hisself better than mii because “I’mma true wrestler and you’re just a barbarian blah blah blah.” Keenan xpected me to be killed by Woodrow in a matter of sekonds. Inn truth, I had that poor English muffen in his own move begging for mercy. That Aggression shiny was about to come bak home. It wuz never really Marvin’s. I didn’t actually lose the dam thing. But our masked crusader just hated to be rong. He LOATHED the thought ov admitting that it was all in some way interchangeable. Sew he came up with this lil nugget.

A hand whips around her back ad returns with a paper bag that’s decorated to look like Keenan’s mask. She puts it on her head.

PuppetVirgil?: erp derp im gonna run in there and cost anna the title and rant like I always do.

Laughter ensues as the Queen of the Dodos whips off the “mask”.

Anna Mathews: That’s xactly what he did. He tried to hide his cowardice, his fear of that all mighty ego being puctured, via the typical moralistic bullshit. He was right about one thing. The run in was legal according to Rebel Pro rules. An two a certain xtent, Marvin was right last weak when he said aye was a bit angry. But I wasn’t angry ‘cause Virgil ran in. Because despite what Virgil finks, he didn’t change history. All he did was delay the inevitable.

She lifts up the shiny to the fans and the happiness.

Anna Mathews: Noar was eye pissed because I lost the match. Wat rileling me up is that thar’s all the arrogant douchebags hoo honestly fink they has the right to be arrogant douchebags when they doan’t. Cereal. Can you remember the last time Virgin aktually did sumthing besides whine and bitch and try to leach offa utter people’s shine? Can you pinpoint an xact moment when Robbie wasn’t a total bitch? Can joo picture a promo where Woody wasn’t this smug know-it-all jackass who fought his shit doan’t stink because he held a billion championships for all of five seconds?

Silence. Everybody was pondering about this. Even you. Yes, you. Use that brain for once and think!

Anna Mathews: Yoo can’t, can ya? Aye’m not trying to be an intellectual giant. I’m just stating truth. An the trooth ish if anybody is the bane of the continued exsistance of both Rebel Pro an the AoWF, it’s them. They and people like them are the one’s trying to hold us back. Apparently, real wrestlers doan’t evolve with the circumstances. They do the exact same school of moves over and over and over again even though people find the cracks in the armor and exploit them. Wrestling ish never supposed to bea anniething utter tan what their imaginations oar thoughts of there rememberances of their glory days want it to be. And clearly “getting my ass kick bi a Master of Time and Space” isn’t in they’re plans.

A faux sad face from the Dodo as she steps down from her box.

Anna Mathews: Ay’m here ta sai fuck that shit. A purrson that can only do one thing can strive in this business for a very short time. They can win all the gold and have all the glory. But in order to survive for the long haul, you either have to be a jack of all trades oar you hav ta be a pussified coward. You either have to evolve and fight or hide and suffer. Cents ai’ll never hide, guess I’ll evolve.

The leather jacket that you’ve never noticed before and never will again comes off.

Anna Mathews: I said et ownce before and I’ll say it again. I don’t mynd being the sacrificial lamb. I don’t mind being the won purrsun that those co-workers of mine love to hate.

She takes off her shirt to reveal another shirt just like it. But Simon must be fucking around in the production truck. We clearly see a nice angle of DAT ASS before it inches up her back. In the middle is a target with words as plain as day: Go ahead, try to get over.

Anna Mathews:..and I really doan’t mind being the scapegoat.

As the mic drops yet again, Anna and her fans party on with cake and cookies while all of you poor fucks have to deal with something else.

REBEL Pro Tag Team Championship Number One Contenders Match: SPECIAL GUEST REFEREE CESAR SALAZAR! SPECIAL GUEST ENFORCER DEICIDE!

The KKK(Anna Mathews & Johnny Maverick) versus Might & Magic

- Even though his job is to enforce this match, Deicide takes a seat behind the announcers table, quietly. When Larry and Linzi tried asking him questions, Deicide ignored them and kept looking on at the in-ring action, expressionless. Meanwhile, Salazar fits perfectly in the role of referee, given how sacred he holds the wrestling rulebook. Despite most REBEL tag matches being unconventional, Salazar informed both teams this bout will be contested under traditional standards; where tags must be made in front of Cesar, no interference is allowed (otherwise said interferer will get their team disqualified), and rope-breaks, count-outs and referee stoppage is enabled!

- Mathews and Dragon jumpstart the match through armdrags, hiptosses and whips, but neither do anything damaging to the other. All of it was them countering and avoiding the other’s attempts, which is impressive if you can appreciate defense. First offensive contact came when Dragon’s tilt-a-whirl threw Anna into the ropes, but utilizing this momentum, Anna counters with a springboard leg lariat! Instead of covering, Anna rolls toward her team’s corner tired and tags in Maverick, who comes off the top turnbuckle with an awing, long-distance elbow drop onto a crawling Dragon’s backside!

- Multiple, generic submission holds like ‘Boston crab’ and ‘surfboard’ keep focus on Dragon’s back, but the Magic would find escape eventually. It’s when Maverick’s STF is applied, concern overcame Moke Doshky, and he would’ve kicked Maverick in the head by now, but Cesar Salazar forbids it as if sacrilegious. At the risk of his neck, Dragon otc cialis rolls himself and Maverick onto their sides, making it easier for Dragon to elbow Johnny’s ribcage, which he does! Only, Maverick’s response is forearms against Dragon’s neck! Ultimately retreating, both Maverick and Dragon go to tag in their partners, Anna Mathews and Moke Doshky.

- Running into a swinging side slam, Anna is laid out conveniently nearby a turnbuckle, which Moke then uses for a corner slingshot splash! For the first time in this match, Moke covers Anna, but Mathews grabs the bottom rope, which Cesar instantly recognizes. Annoyed by this, Moke tugs at Anna’s hair till she stands, permitting four gruesome headbutts into a sidewalk slam! Rallying support for Anna, Maverick yells words of encouragement that make Moke laugh. But it wasn’t a laughing matter when Anna headbutted Moke in the groin, then hurled a big ball of violence into Moke’s face! A BOOMERFLY KICK SENT MOKE OUT OF THE RING!

- This opening is seized to tag in Maverick, who darts over to Dragon and palms him in the face, which actually receives a hilarious vocal response of, “OH FUCK, MY FACE!” as Dragon sits up on the outside! Before Moke Doshky can fully stand, Maverick’s suicide splash halts Moke’s gathering. Not stopping there, Maverick jumps onto the guardrail, hi-fives a small child in the front row before moonsaulting onto Moke! Of course, that got much love from the crowd. “This is the best outing Maverick has had in a few weeks!” Gordon proclaims.

- Salazar is up to a six count, but Maverick shoves the massive Moke beneath the bottom rope and into the ring in time to strike The Dragon, who tried sneak attacking Maverick, with a roaring elbow to the chin! Ascending the apron and then turnbuckle, Maverick’s moonsault knee drop nailed Moke so awfully in the chest, a consecutive three count followed shortly after! The KKK has defeated Might & Magic to become the new number one contenders for the REBEL Pro Tag Team Championships!

- Black Flag’s “Rise Above” announces Kontroversy Kreates Kake’s win, but more noticeably, Salazar raising both arms of Mathews & Maverick at centre of the ring! Afterward, Salazar extends his hands for both Anna and Maverick to shake, but their taken aback by this gesture. Seeing them being too confused to react accordingly, Salazar smirks as he lowers his hands. Nodding, the member of Wrestling’s Undisputed leaves the ring and rejoins Deicide, to walk up the ramp, carrying their Undisputed Tag Championships, leaving KKK to bask in the audience’s cheerfulness.

Winners: Johnny Maverick & Anna Mathews (The KKK) in 16 mins, 42 secs

Commercial for Dave’s Thumbtacks, do you get the point yet?

Main Event

Revenge of the Exciting Wood Match

Marvin Wood vs Virgil Keenan

We are back from commercial break when Larry Gordon steps to the ringside area and yanks the microphone from Jenny Jersey.

Gordon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that both Marvin Wood and Virgil Keenan are not here this evening.”

The crowd boos.

“Mr. Wood’s plane was delayed due to a freak storm and Mr. Keenan refused to give you… jackasses another drop of his precious rule abiding blood.”

More boos, both at Gordon and at Virgil.

“I’m A Rebel” hits up in the speakers, the crowd begins to disperse when “Badass” hits up and Dale Petty stomps out. The crowd immediately stops and turns their attention back to this.

Gordon” You!”

Disgust in his voice, Dale nods.

Dale: “Me, you fat sumbitch.”

Gordon is furious.

Gordon: “What in the hell do you want?! You got back in.”

Dale walks down to Gordon, patting his fat stomach.

Dale: “I want my name back.”

Gordon smirks and shakes his head.

Gordon: “That… I own.”

Dale smirks.

Dale: “I’ll fight you for it.”

Gordon shakes his head, he knows Dale would win that fight.

Gordon: “Ain’t happening.”

The crowd begins to chant “chicken shit” at Gordon, but he doesn’t budge.

Dale: “So, you disappoint this crowd, you don’t have anything to back this match up, you refuse to fight…”

Gordon nods.

Gordon: “What do I care? I make money on their blood thirst, on your lack of any other skills, on the flesh torn by you rabid animals…”

Dale smirks.

Dale: “So, you think you are pretty smart huh?”

Gordon taps his skull.

Dale: “Read that contract Gordon?”

Gordon looks apprehensive.

Dale: “I get 1 match of my choosing, for anything.”

Gordon smirks.

Gordon: “Against any wrestler.”

Dale nods.

Dale: “Any stipulation.”

Gordon smiles.

Gordon: “Ok…”

Dale: “I’m fighting Bobby Lee for the right to my name and for 2 percent of this company.”

Gordon: “That’s bullshit!”

Dale smiles: “You could have just given it to me and that would have been that.”

Gordon: “Ok, you can have it back.”

Dale nods, lighting up.

Dale: “Damn right and I’ll get 2 percent control of this company, shoulda agreed you fat…”

Trailer Park Trash on Gordon!

Dale: “Fuck!”

The crowd roars, but Dale turns back to the camera.

“Norton, good job on Case, I liked what I saw.”

e waits, the crowd listening as he gives his approval.

“Macca… that was fun… I want another go around, what ya say?”

He throws the mic down as the show fades.

Quick Results

Sean Robinson defeated Jeremy Gold
Jake Norton closed the case on Justin Case
Tony Edison defeated Jonathan Cage
Macca defeated Dale Petty
Maverick/Matthews(KKK) defeated Might and Magic
Marvin Wood vs Virgil Keenen was a no contest