NAPW/REBEL Supershow I – 05/15/2007

The Polish Hall is nearly full, and buzzing. It’s been several long weeks since an NAPW event here. Tonight, however, is not just an NAPW event. Two feds
bring their best to Edmonton. NAPW and REBEL Pro Wrestling, sister feds from Edmonton, AB and Raleigh, NC cross-promoting a huge event. Both promotion’s
titles will be on the line. Two different styles of wrestling, the no holds barred environment of REBEL Pro Wrestling and the stiff, pure wrestling style
of NAPW. Either way the crowd is hot hot hot as it is—


And then the place goes ballistic as the most hated group of men to ever unite enter the Polish Hall. Static is pushing out John Salty. Rex comes out next
wearing his REBEL Belt. The boos are deafening… as the NAPW Tag Champs walk in. Rees is wearing his Provincial belt around his waist. Banks is looking
fiery jawing with the fans. They are in the aisleway, so that they don’t leave John by himself on the outside. Static takes the mic.

STATIC: This is the welcome I get? I’m a damn legend here, and you people need to damn well respect me. You make me glad that I never have to perform in
this piss poor town again. I left this place and it went all to hell until Rex bought it. Then it become good again. With the Crimes taking charge.. this
place will be great. Lloyd Rees is one of the most talented wrestlers ever! Rex Caliber is the toughest bastard I’ve ever faced. David Banks is more athletically
gifted than Steve Nash, Lebron James and Kobe Bryant COMBINED! This group with the devious minds of me and John… it’s criminal.

Static hands the microphone to REBEL Pro Heavyweight Champion… and NAPW Owner, Rex Caliber. REX: EDMONTON! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU? Now you can save the
boos for Ravager, and save your breath for someone he gives a (BLEEP). Rex Caliber is here to defend his belt, and make a lot of money. Why are you booing
me? I saved this damn place from folding! Now tonight, well, The Crimes are going to sweep the night, and party until the sun comes up. Sparx? The man
is fooled and going to get battered bad. Rees is pimp slapping Stoney… and Banks is going to make three little bitches tap the (BLEEP) out. The Crimes
are running strong, and by God… we are down right…. BEASTLY!

Like a hot potato, the microphone gets handed to “Wrestling’s Smartest Man” John Salty.

JOHN SALTY: Ya see folks, weather ya want t’admit it or not, dis is da begin’n of a new era fer both da NAPW and REBEL Pro alike. Sure, plenty of people
have said d’hat befer but, dis is da real deal. Da New Crimes are ready t’begin d’ere reign or terror and what a better place and time d’hen da first ever
NAPW/REBEL Pro in Edmonton, Alberta where every member of dis super group has may history time and time again.

NAPW Tag Champion, David Banks, is next in line.

DAVID BANKS: Let me tell everyone that I am glad to be part of this elite group of wrestling greats and before all you ungrateful fans know it, I will be
recognized right along side of them. I have already got my hands on my first NAPW title and once I destroy Roberts, Warren, and Cataclysm I will gladly
take it upon myself to destroy Murcielago and take the REBEL Pro Carolinas Championship as property of Da New Crimes!!

The crowd boos even louder as Banks hands off to NAPW Provinical and the other half of Tag Team Champions, “‘LDK” Lloyd Rees.


Even more boos.

“LDK” LLOYD REES: Don’t ye Larrys’ understand d’hat ye are get’n da chance t’look upon greatness right now!! A scene d’hat ya may never be lucky enough
t’see again in yer pathedic live and all ye ungrateful slobs can manage t’do is boo!! Well let me tell ya dis Larrys’; when yer stand’n in da unemployment
line tomorrow wait’n t’get yer checks and day dream’n about be’n as great as any member of Da New Crimes just remeber, d’ere ain’t a f**k’n chance in hell!!
So relish in dis even’n and enjoy watch’n da most dominant group of men ever formed…DOMINATE!!

All members of The New Crimes come together.

REX CALIBER: So in case you didn’t figure it out… we are the elite! We are the…


The group exits through the curtain, showered in boos and possibly some flying cups and assorted liquids. The Edmonton fans know all about Rex Caliber’s
actions in REBEL Pro Wrestling…

Can you blame them for feeling betrayed?


JACK JONES: And that Rob is why you never… ever… under any circumstances park in my space!

ROB MARTINEZ: Did you really kidnap a woman’s cat?

BILL HEWSON: Not only that.. he put the picture of it, tied up, on his Christmas cards. It is May 15th, Edmonton Alberta from The Polish Hall and it is
the first-ever NAPW/REBEL Pro supershow! I’m Bill Hewson along with Jack “Attack” Jones and joining us for the evening is the Voice of REBEL, Rob Martinez!
Let’s go to the first match…

JENNY JERSEY: The following match is one fall to a finish and is under REBEL rules. It is the Hair versus Mask match, AND IS FOR THE REBEL TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP!
Jimmy Johnson is standing in the ring. Then it’s Gangstarr baby! “Battle” begins playing as Dio Muerte and Jeff James, enter the Polish Hall to an eruption
of cheers. Jeff looks to the left, then looks to the right. He feels the electricity in the air. Dio lightly taps his palm with his bat, and they walk
toward the ring. Referee They enter the ring, as the lovely Jenny Jersey introduces them.

JENNY JERSEY: Introducing the challengers. They weigh in at a combined four hundred thirty three pounds. This is the team of DIO MUERTE, AND THE RETURNING…

“The New Foundation” by AkForty takes over the Polish Hall air waves. We look to the curtain and out walks Mr. B, then Thomas Young. He has his half of
the Tag belts around his waist. He has a mic in his hand.

THOMAS YOUNG: Now… cut our music. Boys… I feel kind of embarrassed but Darko hasn’t made it yet. He is running a tad late.

ROB MARTINEZ: I saw him backstage before the show? What the hell is this?

Dio and Jeff look straight up the aisle way. They shake their heads.

THOMAS YOUNG: I just need a few minutes.. and I PROMISE HE WILL BE HERE!

JACK JONES: Can these people be any more disrespectful! I’m concerned for the Prince.

BILL HEWSON: See what I put up with!

The crowd boos, and starts a BULLSHIT chant. Thomas looks at them and flips them off. Then a buzz goes through the crowd.

THOMAS YOUNG: Let me go back and check.

As he says that, Prince Darko jumps the railing after setting a trash can full of weapons down near ringside. He picks it up and throws it in the ring,
hitting Dio in the back. Dio is on one knee and in runs Thomas Young. Jeff James meets him, and Darko gets in the ring, taking advantage of Dio. The bell
sounds! This match is underway.

BILL HEWSON: A total set up by the sneaky Foundation. If it’s underhanded…they have done it!

Jeff James lays some fists all over Thomas. The brothers are exchanging blow after blow. Darko tries a suplex but is blocked. Dio gets Darko up for a BRAINBUSTER!
Jeff picks up a golf club that came from Darko’s metal trash can. He swings at Thomas who grabs the club. Jeff uses it to pull Young closer in and MASSIVE
CLOTHESLINE. Young to the outside. Jeff James on the top rope, and cross-body block on Young. James is up and pumped. Darko is dazed, and getting to his
feet. Dio has his bat in hand. Dio with a Barry Bonds swing at the head of Darko. Darko manages to get his arm to block?! HIS ARM HAS TO BE STINGING! Darko
is on the ground, writhing in pain. Jeff James on the outside, Thomas gets up only to get… CRASH LANDING! The leg sweep, Standing Moonsault, double knee
drop combo move that has the crowd chanting Jeff’s name. Dio lets Darko get up, and goes for a shuffle sidekick. Darko moves out of the way, then hits
a RUNNING DDT! The cover doesn’t even get a one count. Darko mounts Dio, and tries to get some elbows in. Dio, blocks them and grabs his right arm, and
flips his legs up around Darko’s head. Does he have it? A TRIANGLE CHOKE FROM DIO! Darko is near tapping from the UFC style move. They are near the ropes,
and Mr. B elbows Dio’s head. He breaks the hold as the crowd boos.

ROB MARTINEZ: Some MMA by Dio? Like he wasn’t dangerous enough with a bat.. he is adding in submission moves!

BILL HEWSON: Dio was a very promising star here.. REBEL is lucky to have him.

JACK JONES: Lucky? I got some more crappy wrestlers to send there way.. hopefully we can get the Foundation back in return!

Jeff James picks up Thomas Young on the outside and throws him into the guardrail. In the ring Darko is recovering, and Dio is up… AND PISSED! He grabs
a… computer keyboard? When did Darko become a New Jack mark? Darko eats a keyboard off his head, and KEYS FLY EVERYWHERE! Darko is stunned. Jeff James
is down from a low blow by Thomas Young. Young with a quick running boot at James knocking him down. In the ring Darko is primed for… THE DEMORTALIZER!!
ROB MARTINEZ: This match is OVER!

Young on the top rope. Dio with the cover. One, Two… LEG DROP ON THE BACK OF DIO’S HEAD! Young just saved his tag belts.

JACK JONES: This may be garbage wrestling.. but I gotta cheer for my pals the Foundation!

Darko is OUT COLD! James is on the ring apron.. He catapults himself off the ropes and BLOCKBUSTER ON THOMAS YOUNG! He..never…saw…it…coming! Cover…
ONE, TWO.. Darko with the save. How close was that? James takes Darko by his fro and SIDE EFFECT ON DARKO! ONE, TWO, DAMN THAT THOMAS YOUNG! He pushes
Jeff off at the last split second! Young busts Jeff in the head with a BEER BOTTLE? Jeff is busted open! Dio is behind Young, he spins him around… boot
to the midsection of Young… SIT OUT POWERBOMB! Mr. B on the ring apron and Dio is distracted.

BILL HEWSON: Damn that Mr. B.

Dio goes over to him… AND DARKO FROM BEHIND! Dio turns around to THE COMPLETE SHOT! Cover but a foot on the rope. Jeff James is up… He dabs his head..
lands a vicious elbow on the eye brow of his brother. Blood begins to stream from the eye.

James sees Darko getting up and picks up a FRYING PAN? WHAM! DARKO IS WEARING ANOTHER TYPE MASK! A CRIMSON ONE! Jeff James goes after Young who is back
outside. Dio crawls over to the downed Darko, and tries to take his mask off. He is ripping at it. The crowd is absolutely loving this war. Dio sees a
rope in the middle of the pile of weapons. It’s already has a noose made. He wraps it around the neck of Darko. He gets Darko up, and THROWS HIM OVER THE
his mask… he is choking badly. Mr. B enters the ring with a steel chair. WHAM.. Dio takes the shot.. BUT DOESN’T RELEASE THE ROPE? WHAAAMM! TWO BIG SHOTS,

Jeff James bulldogs Thomas Young to the floor. He grabs a chair from the crowd. He throws it to Thomas who catches that… AND A VAN DAMNINATOR! The already
bloody Young is knocked down. Mr. B from behind with a chair shot on Jeff James. Another one to the front of the head.

ROB MARTINEZ: His blood is on the chair, and this looks like a car accident. Bloody bodies everywhere.

Darko is trying to recover. He reaches under the ring and grabs a satchel. He tosses it to Mr. B?

BILL HEWSON: What the hell is in it?


Darko and Mr. B handcuff Jeff James’ hands behind his back. Dio is in the ring, and is up.. bat in hand. Darko rams James into the guardrail. Young is coming
too… he sees his own flesh and blood, his brother… handcuffed.. and the SICK BASTARD SMILES! Young enters the ring cautiously, as does Darko. Both
men have lost a lot of blood. Dio has his bat still. Young charges and takes the bat to the stomach. He does a front flip over from the impact. Darko ducks
a shot at him, and sweeps Dio down. Darko tries to drop the elbow but Dio moves. Dio is up and picks up a steel chain. He knocks the hell out of Darko,
with chain in his right hand. Young however is back to his feet… and Dio’s luck just ran out. YOUNG CUTTER! No pin? NO PIN! Young smiles, sadistically.
He sees his brother rolling into the ring. He laughs. Jeff runs at him..


Jeff struggles to get up, but finally does. Darko is staggering up… ENZIGURI ON DARKO. James maneuvers for a cover… ONE? TWO? DARKO KICKS OUT! Young
is behind him and swinging neck breaker. Young is slow, due to the blood loss. He places James’ head inside the metal trash can, that Darko brought the
weapons in with. Darko gets on the top rope. Young makes sure that James can’t get out. DARKO DOUBLE STOMPS THE TRASH CAN! JAMES IS CRUSHED INSIDE!

JACK JONES: That was a modified “Goodnight” from the Foundation.

Young turns to Dio. Dio is crawling toward the bat. Young steps on it. Darko comes and applies the ZUMUNDA CLUTCH! Young slaps the face of Dio. He spits
on to the mask. Darko lets the move go. Darko begins to tear at the eye holes of the ski mask. Young grabs the bat. He gets Dio into a camel clutch position.
He places the bat under chin, and yanks back. THIS IS SICK! Darko of the ropes with a double mule kick to the face of Dio. Young keeps the choke on. Jimmy
Johnson checks and Dio is out. He calls for the bell. James has crawled out the trash can. This match is over… but the Foundation aren’t done. Thomas
stomps his brother. Darko is smiling under his mask… YOU JUST KNOW IT! Darko does the scissor sign with his fingers. Mr. B goes to his satchel, and out
comes some barber scissors. He brings them into the ring. Darko yells out “Bout time for a hair cut mother (BLEEP)er!” THE CROWD EXPLODES WITH BOOS. Fans
are trying to jump the railing. Security is working double time.. calming the fans down.

ROB MARTINEZ: Didn’t y’all have a riot up here before?

BILL HEWSON: Yeah… and nine months later, look what it caused last week in REBEL.

The crowd is furious. Slap to the downed James’ face from Young. James kicks at Young. Darko has the scissors and Young gets Jeff to his feet and bear hugs
him from behind. Darko gets close to James. He dabs some of James’ blood on his fingers and starts to write something on Jeff’s exposed chest.


Darko rubs the scissors against the face of Jeff. He cusses him and slaps him. James spits at Darko. Darko grabs a big lock of hair. He snips… but doesn’t
cut yet. He grabs it again and… THE CROWD EXPLODES IN CHEERS! JAMES WITH A KICK TO THE BALLS OF DARKO. Thomas is trying to hold Jeff… and Darko bitch
slaps the hell out of James’. The camera shows Young’s eyes widen. He is trying to speak… THE CROWD ROARS…. WHY?


JEFF JAMES IS A FREE MAN! He grabs a steel chair. Darko eats a chair shot. Young and the chair unite for a clash of wills. THE CHAIR IS DENTED. Dio chokes
Darko with the bat. Darko isn’t defending himself. Mr. B is up.. and WHAMMMM! JEFF JAMES NAILS HIM. Dio gets a chair… Young is stood up. James takes
a side. Dio is on the other. Young in the middle.


Young falls to bloody heap. Dio goes and gets a table from under the ring. Jeff James on the top rope. Dio places Darko on the table.


Dio looks through Mr. B’s satchel…and finds a zippo and lighter fluid!

BILL HEWSON: The Foundation was prepared for some things, and now they are going to BURN for it!


Jeff slides in a table. Dio grabs Young. Jeff sets up the table. Jeff lights it on FIIIIRRREEE! DIO MUERTE WITH A POWERBOMB ON THOMAS YOUNG THROUGH A FLAMING
TABLE! John Sharplin runs out with a fire extinguisher. He puts the table/Young out.


JACK JONES: You can’t be dropping F Bombs!

Dio and Jeff James raise their hand in a moral victory, and the crowd eats it up! Dio chants… James chants. The Foundation may still be the champions,
but they have been left laying in the ring. They may have retained the titles, but it seems that Dio Muerte and Jeff James have won the war!


ROB MARTINEZ: And that’s when the chickens came home to roost, if you know what I’m saying.

BILL HEWSON: Thankfully, no I don’t.


FRANK WARBURTON: The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL!

BILL HEWSON: Saved by the bell!

FRANK WARBURTON: Entering the ring first, hailing from Seattle, Washington…Weighing in at two hundred and thirty-five pounds, he is CAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSHHHH!
AC/DC! Hell yes! Ca$h makes his way down to the ring, nodding his head to the music and singing along with Brian Johnson’s vocals, and the crowd is eating
it up; a number of cute girls in the front row are throwing the horns and whipping their long blonde hair around. Ca$h gets in the ring and takes his NAPW
hoodie off, cause a loud cheer to erupt from the crowd, and tosses it at his “metalhead” groupies, who clamber after it.

JACK JONES: I don’t see what the appeal of this Ca$h jackass is, Hewson. He’s just a college-educated pretty boy with no charisma.

ROB MARTINEZ: I disagree, Jack. In a world that’s starving for straighforward heroes, Ca$h is a refreshing alternative. Who doesn’t like a clean-cut guy
to cheer for?

JACK JONES: I wasn’t TALKING to you.

FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent! Hailing from Hollywood, California. Weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds, accompanied by Demona, he is! DIAAAAAAAABLOOOOOOOO!
Ka-BOOM. The crowd explodes. But that’s just because Demona has stepped out from behind the curtain; the guys in the audience have gone ga-ga for the woman
in the PVC catsuit. She gestures to the back, and the crowd start booing in earnest for the wall of muscle that makes his way down to the ring. Demona
takes his red trenchcoat, while Ca$h bounces in his corner, keeping the blood pumping.

BILL HEWSON: Both of these men are technical experts, but I’m wondering if Diablo’s weight advantage is going to give him the edge in this match.

ROB MARTINEZ: Diablo’s got about thirty-five pounds on Ca$h, but don’t count the former RKW World Champion out; he’s got the advantage when it comes to
reach. I think these guys are pretty evenly matched; it’s going to be an entertaining contest!

BILL HEWSON: That’s an excellent point, Rob! It’s nice to have such an intelligent partner in the booth with me tonight.

JACK JONES: Cough. Ahem.

BILL HEWSON: Of course, Jack Attack, do you have anything to add?

JACK JONES: …Martinez sucks.

Referee John Sharplin brings both men to the center of the ring. Ca$h extends his hand, but Diablo slaps it away! The bell rings and we have a match! Ca$h,
a caught flat-footed by Diablo’s display of disrespect, finds him on the business end of a hard chop, followed by a toe kick. Diablo grabs Ca$h’s head
and BOOM! DDT! Diablo follows up with a quick cover, but Ca$h kicks out after one. Diablo, upset with Ca$h’s disrespect, gives him a few kicks to the back
of the head, and John Sharplin gets in between the two men, admonishing the bigger man with a raised eyebrow. Ca$h is back on his feet, and when Sharplin
gets out of the way, he rushes Diablo, but he sidesteps and Ca$h lands on the ropes; Ca$h bounces off however and connects with an elbow to the face! Diablo
stumbles backwards, holding his face. Ca$h follows it up with a belly-to-belly suplex, and Diablo’s on the ground! Ca$h doesn’t hesitate and locks in a
single-leg crab, but Diablo powers out of it, kicking his leg back and throwing Ca$h into the turnbuckle!

JACK JONES: See, I told you that the weight advantage would help Diablo in this match! Diablo’s going to take Ca$h to the cleaners!

ROB MARTINEZ: Actually, Jack Attack, I think it was Bill who–

JACK JONES: Yap yap yap, that’s all you do, Martinez. Try shutting your mouth and letting the match speak for itself, why don’t you?

Diablo advances on Ca$h and grabs the back of his head, slamming it back into the turnbuckle. The crowd BOOS, and Diablo looks around the audience, still
holding Ca$h by the hair. He stands him up and–HOT FUDGE! Swinging neckbreaker and Ca$h finds himself in trouble as Diablo applies an ankle lock! Sharplin
is quickly down on his stomach, getting in Ca$h’s face, checking for his response, but Ca$h is shaking his head. He shrugs and squirms, inching himself
closer to the ropes…he reaches out…and connects! Sharplin starts counting and Diablo lets go at three.

BILL HEWSON: Looks like you were right, Martinez! That height advantage paid off for the clean-cut Ca$h.

JACK JONES: Sure, take HIS side.

Diablo leaps on Ca$h before he could get to his feet, and starts feeding him a series of rights to the head; Sharplin’s there, though, and breaks it up
again, this time giving Diablo a stern verbal warning. Ca$h kips up, and the crowd pops as he rushes around the ring, playing to the crowd and getting
some momentum on his side. Diablo angrily steps forward, trying to grab for Ca$h, but he side-steps him and locks up for the German Suplexes! ONE German
Suplex! TWO, TWO German Suplexes! THREE, THREE, TH–oh snap! Diablo elbows Ca$h in the side of the head, and again, and Ca$h stumbles back to rest in the
corner. Diablo chops him twice, then starts lifting him to the top rope! Could it be time for Final Judgement? It looks to be–NO! Ca$h gets a knee up
in Diablo’s stomach, and then follows up with a few chops of his own! He gets his opponent into position–MIDAS TOUCH! Ca$h rolls into the pin, one, two,


BILL HEWSON: Even with the thirty-five pound weight disadvantage, Ca$h somehow lifts up Diablo and comes out with the win. What a great night for this talented
young man!

JACK JONES: Are you crazy? Diablo was robbed! Too much interference by Sharplin; if he had just let the match go on interuppted Diablo would have the match
sewn up! He was on fire out there!

ROB MARTINEZ: I agree, Jack; Diablo was very impressive out there tonight. He had a good match, it just didn’t go his way.

JACK JONES: Did you just agree with me or disagree?

In the ring, the referee is holding Ca$h’s arm in the air, while Diablo stands angrily to the side. Ca$h walks over to his opponent and holds out his hand,
in a display of good-natured sportsmanship. Diablo looks at the extended hand with confusion, but CHAIR SHOT! CHAIR SHOT FROM BEHIND! Diablo falls to the
ground and “The Revolution” Jude Costigan stands over him, wielding the chair above his head and looking furious! This is revenge for the treatment he
recieved from Diablo in the triple-threat at the last NAPW show! He brings the chair up again to smash Diablo in the back of the head, but Ca$h takes the
chair away and tosses it out of the ring! “What the hell are you doing, Costigan?” he asks, but The Revolution doesn’t answer. He just grimaces and then
tackles Ca$h! Ca$h rolls with the attack, though, and gets Costigan in the single-leg crab! Costigan scrambles for the ropes, finally getting a hold on
them and rolls to the outside. Ca$h shouts obscenities at Costigan as he makes his way to the back, then turns to Diablo, who is slowly getting up. Ca$h
extends his hand again, but this time Diablo is too angry, and perhaps too embarassed, to take it. He waves it off, and storms out of the ring angrily.

ROB MARTINEZ: Well here we go! A HUGE REBEL four way elimination match for you next! Here’s our very own lovely Jenny Jersey to introduce the competitors.
Never Gonna Get it by Akon blasts throughout the sold out arena, and David Banks appears at the top of entrance to the arena.

JENNY JERSEY: From Greensoboro North Carolina, weighing in at 223lbs, its DAVID BANKS!

He walks casually to the ring, ignoring the fans. But that could cost him! One of them stands on the barricades and throws themselves on Banks!

ROB MARTINEZ: Woah! That ain’t no ordinary fan, folks! That’s Warren!

JENNY JERSEY: From just outside the New Alberta 7-11… WARREN!

Warren is getting back to his feet, as David grabs his head and throws into the steel barricades! Warren is taking a beating as Stay in Shadow plays, and
Cataclysm comes running down to meet the other two wrestlers! He’s laying into Banks, and Warren crawls free.

JENNY JERSEY: From Parts Unknown, The Martial Arts Master himself, Cataclysm!

And quickly the music switches to I am the Man, and out runs Stylin’ Kyle!


BILL HEWSON: A, shall we say, unpleasant response for Stylin’ Kyle Roberts. These Edmonton fans will never forgive him for turning his back on The Beast
months ago!

ROB MARTINEZ: Now the match is going to get underway! But the bell hasn’t even rung yet, and these guys are going at it!

JACK JONES: Thank God, the quicker we get this started the quicker its over.

ROB MARTINEZ: Watch and learn Jones, maybe you’ll see what a real wrestling match looks like!

Cataclysm holds up banks, and smacks a huge spinning heel kicks into his face, sending over the steel barricades and into the fans, where Warren quickly
springboards from the top of the barricade and hits another splash on Banks! Kyle grabs Cataclysm, whipping him down into the ring apron, and follows it
up with a huge clothesline!

BILL HEWSON: Well, if its off to a crazy start, that’s for sure! Whatever you say about REBEL, you have to give credit to these four men!

JACK JONES: Bill, I’ll give credit where credit is due, so I’m keeping it all for now!

Warren is laying the boots into Banks, and grabs a fans drink bottle and whacks Banks over the head with it! But Banks stands there! Grabbing Warren by
the hair, he drags him through the crowd towards the direction of the ring – where, incidentally, Stylin’ Kyle executes a perfect Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker
on Cataclysm!

He turns his attention to Warren and Banks, where Banks has Warren against the barricades and is laying into him with chops and forearms.

ROB MARTINEZ: Kyle’s going high!

From the top rope he points to Warren and Banks, and throws himself over the barricades and into both men! The fans are going crazy!

BILL HEWSON: Well… that was incredible!

JACK JONES: That was nothing… He just threw himself in a direction and hoped for the best…

ROB MARTINEZ: When you show me NAPW do a match like this, I’ll care about your opinion, Jack.

In the ring, Cataclysm is getting up, and sees the chaos in the crowd, whips himself into the rope, and a springboard senton into the other three wrestlers!
Complete disregard for their own safety! Banks slowly gets up, and throws Warren over the barricades, climbing over himself, and then rolls Warren into
the ring. He grabs him by his hair, holds him up, and holds him for a belly-to-belly suplex! He grabs Warren, places his head between his legs, and double
underhooks the arms…

ROB MARTINEZ: Thats Beyond Belief! Not from the top rope, but he’s about to hit it… No!

Warren sharply lifts up his head, a low blow! Warren is still down, and Banks tries to get footing — missile dropkick from Cataclysm out of nowhere!

BILL HEWSON: Such power, he looks to capitalize here…

Cataclysm covers Banks… 1…2…3! Banks is eliminated!

JENNY JERSEY: The first man eliminated from the match, DAVID BANKS!

As Cataclysm gets to his feet, he’s met with a DDT by Warren, sloppily executed. As Warren gets up, Stylin’ Kyle slides into the ring to meet him with a
stiff lariat. But Cataclysm is back up, jumps, that’s The Blue Ruin! Kyle is down! Warren is near the turnbuckle opposite, as Cataclysm makes a cover!
1…2…No! Somersault Senton onto Cataclysm! He drags him up, gets a face lock, runs up the turnbuckle and flips!

ROB MARTINEZ: He calls that the Microwave Burrito Buster! Thats probably his best executed move ever! Perfect!

He makes a cover! 1…2…3! Warren made a pinfall! Well, this is a strange night!

JENNY JERSEY: Your second man eliminated! Cataclysm!

And Kyle is back to his feet. Warren and Kyle stare each other out, and Kyle shrugs his shoulders and climbs out the ring!

ROB MARTINEZ: He’s walking away! Saying something about Warren not being a worthwhile opponent!

JACK JONES: Nice wrestlers you got in REBEL, huh?

And Kyle turns and walks back to back, but Warren comes after him! Running facebuster on an unsuspecting Kyle! Uses the steel guards again to try and hit
a hurricanrana – but Kyle grabs him and holds him! Runs towards the ring and running powerbomb against the ring apron!

BILL HEWSON: He just broke that kid in half!

Kyle grabs him, throws him into the ring, and Warren just lays there. Kyle lifts him onto his shoulder, and hits the Emerald Fusion! That’s secured it.
He places a finger on Warren’s chest, and the referee counts it! 1…2…3!

JENNY JERSEY: And the winner of the match… STYLIN’ KYLE ROBERTS!

JACK JONES: See what I mean? No class, I can’t wait till we get some NAPW guys out here.

ROB MARTINEZ: You have to respect what these guys do!

And in the ring, Kyle checks up on Warren, and lifts him into his arms, carrying him out the ring and backstage. The fans aren’t sure whether to continue
the boo-ing or not… But it’s Kyle, so what the hell, they keep it going!


FRANK WARBURTON: The following match is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the NAPW Provincial Championship!

“Bang Bang to the Rock and Roll” comes on, and you know what that means. “I GOT MAD SKILLZ, BITCH!” Stone says it along with the crowd as he heads down
to the ring.

BILL HEWSON: “Dynamite” Stone Zellor looks hungry for gold – he hasn’t been a champion since February 27th when The Doomriders took the Tag Team titles
from the Midnight Cowboys in a classic match-up. Yet since the Cowboys split up, Stone has been on quite the singles roll!

JACK JONES: Against a champion the caliber of Lloyd Rees – excuse me – Crimes Member Lloyd Rees, Stone Zellor is going to need some Dynamite.

ROB MARTINEZ: Geez, where do you come up with this?

JACK JONES: Most of them your mother writes on the back of a napkin for me after she serves dinner.

BILL HEWSON: Will you stop?

JACK JONES: He started it!

Zellor’s in the ring by now, and he does a little dance, just a tease really, to get the crowd warmed up. Then it’s the Black Keys, and with that only one
man could be headed out to the ring. The newest member of the reformed Crimes. The most decorated NAPW Champion ever, and the current Tag Team and Provincial
Champion. “LDK” Lloyd Rees steps out through the curtain with his Provincial Championship strapped around his waist. The Tag Title is slung over his shoulder,
while his accomplice David Banks has his own Tag Team title strapped around his own waist. John Salty, wheelchair bound for the moment after being destroyed
by Brian Bruno, has the Republic of Newfoundland and the old NAPW Television Championship on his lap.

JACK JONES: Quiet down, peasants! A LEGEND walks among us!

ROB MARTINEZ: That’s odd, I didn’t see Bob Backlund anywhere.

JACK JONES: Don’t interrupt LDK!…and besides, Backlund’s probably inhaling gas fumes somewhere in Orlando.

Rees is in the ring, and he forces referee Dick Kiebiech to hold up all FIVE titles between him, Salty, and Banks up for the whole crowd to see. He sneers
at Zellor, who smiles and waves at him from his seat atop the turnbuckles.

FRANK WARBURTON: Introducing first, from Staten Island, New York; he weighed in tonight at one hundred and seventy-three pounds, and he is a former NAPW

Wild cheers from the crowd, which turn to boos just as Warburton announces:

FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent, the NAPW Provincial and Tag Team Champion. Hailing from Bell Island, Newfoundland and weighing in at two hundred and
forty-seven pounds, he’s the EAST COAST SENSATION, he is “L! D! K!” LLLOOOOOOOYD REEEEEEEEEEESSSS!!!

BILL HEWSON: Hold onto your seats folks, this oughta be a great one!

Kiebiech calls for the bell, and it’s time for a title match! Rees and Zellor circle one another, looking for an opening. What’s this? Zellor bust out the
break-dancing technicue to the delight of the crowd. He lets out an “I GOT MAD SKILLZ” and lets the crowd chime in for the “BITCH!”. Rees looks flustered,
while Salty and Banks are insisting that Zellor indeed does not have…skillz, bitch. “Top that, newfie!” A dance off? The fans are roaring with laughter/applause.
Rees isn’t about to be shown up – and here he goes with one of the clumisest, silliest looking jig-type dances you’ll ever see!

ROB MARTINEZ: You know, a funny thing happened at the SuperShow tonight, Bill Hewson.

BILL HEWSON: What’s that, Rob?

ROB MARTINEZ: It said Provincial Championship match on my program, but an episode of Fame broke out instead.

JACK JONES: Har-Har. Who writes this garbage?

The fans are still laughing, but AT Lloyd Rees rather that with Stone Zellor. And Rees no likey that. As Zellor plays to the crowd, an attack from behind.
What an (BLEEP). Zellor goes down in a heap and tries to cover up from a barrage of stomps and kicks. Rees peels him off the mat and plants him with a
textbook snap suplex. Zellor slams off the mat and grabs at his lower back, getting back to his feet in time in order to duck a clothesline attempt and
run the ropes – flying crossbody dodged by Rees who drops to the mat, but Zellor rolls on impact with the mat and gets right up. Rees gets to his feet
just as Zellor looks for an elbow drop, catching the former Tag Team Champion off guard with a forearm smash to the jaw. He peppers Stone’s face with a
few more before whipping him into the ropes – he telegraphs a back body drop however and Stone counters yet again. SLAMMY TIME! No, Rees shoves him off
and avoids that devastating finishing manuever. Zellor is undeterred however and gets right back at it, locking up with Rees and jokceying for position.
Deeep Arm Drag by Zellor, who locks the armbar submission on for good measure – but Rees has his feet wrapped under the bottom rope.

Zellor loses his focus for a brief moment as Rees gets up, and that’s all the most decorated champion in NAPW history needs. European Uppercut! Knife Edge
Chop! Another! And an Irish whip to the turnbuckle. Stone nearly flips up and out of the ring, but comes slamming back down on the turnbuckle a second
time and is a sitting duck for Rees. He goes for the Avalance! NOBODY HOME! Zellor rolled out of the way, and Rees hit his noggin on the steel post. He’s
dizzy as heck, and doesn’t know what the heck he even hit. Zellor sees his fogginess and gets an idea…he heads to the opposite corner. Rees is on dreamstreet
and in his mind thinks he’s going for Avalance number two – and he charges again! Zellor just steps out of the way this time, and Rees’ head again bounces
off the steel post! The fans are loving it, and there’s Stone Zellor with some breakdance magic! Rees stumbles over to the adjacent corner, and Zellor
just can’t pass up on the irony of the situation. He head over to the other corner and charges Lloyd Rees, nailing him with an Avalanche of his own! Rees
staggers out a few steps and Flair-flops right on his mush. The crowd is electric for Zellor, and he’s playing them up to the fullest. What time is it?
Robot time! Stone Zellor with a perfect 1985 robot dance, you’d think he was plucked right out of a Run-D.M.C video! LOW BLOW!

JACK JONES: Stone Zellor needs to get his head in his game, this is pro wrestling, not American Bandstand!

ROB MARTINEZ: Somebody just dated himself.

JACK JONES: Don’t you still watch Dukes of Hazzard reruns?

BILL HEWSON: …The Provincial Champion turns the tide with an illegal move, but he got away with it. And now it’s LDK’s turn to take control!

Rees finally got his wits about him and realized he was being made look a fool, and cheap-shotted his way back on top in this match-up. He looks immediately
to take the crowd out of the match-up, grabbing hold of a Side Headlock and squeezing it tight. Zellor is fighting it off, but Rees overpowers the much
smaller challenger and gets into perfect position. Zellor’s still fighting, but Rees is in control right in center ring. He holds it on a bit longer before
Zellor fights up to his feet behind the cheers of from the crowd – Headlock Takeover puts him right back in his place! Zellor grabs at Rees’ leg and tries
to roll him over. Rees throws a punch connecting right with Zellor’s forehead, but the release of pressure on the hold allows Stone to roll him over and
catch him in a pinning predicament. One, two, kickout and the hold is broken. Both men are quick to their feet but Stone’s quicker to the punch, er, dropkick
and Rees teeters back. Stone off the ropes – David Banks grabs his foot and trips him up. Kiebiech darts over and admonishes him, but Banks is quick to
inform him that “I’m working for the boss.” Kiebiech could give a damn about all that and orders him not to interfere, but Banks just scoffs at him. “YOU’RE
OUTTA HERE! BOTH OF YOU!” And the crowd goes wild! Banks and Salty go wild with anger! And Rees goes wild at Kiebiech, threatening to something quite horrible
to him that was spoken entirely in Newfie-ese…

And Stone capitalizes and from behind connects with a sit-out rear mat slam (Edge O’ Matic for WWE fans) and grabs at Rees leg for a pin! ONE!…TWO!….ALMOST!
Rees gets up with a fire under his ass and meets Stone with a punch to the kisser, planting him on the mat. He gets in two stiff stomps before picking
his foe up for a scoop slam before heading off the near ropes and dropping a knee onto his forehead. Rees is all kinds of pissed and shoves Kiebiech just
for the hell of it before picking Stone up for some more punishment. Whip to the ropes – Overhead Belly to Belly Suplex! Stone slams hard into the mat.
Rees is starting to smell blood in the water, so he turns up the heat. He picks up Zellor – DDT FROM THE GREEN! Devastating move, that’s all she wrote
for sure. ONE! TWO… TWO AND A HALF!

BILL HEWSON: It’s not quite over yet, folks!

Zellor’s here to win, not just to make a good showing. Rees is perturbed to say the least, and picks up the scrappy youngster to send him unceremoniously
careening into the turnbuckle yet again – and THIS TIME he hits all of the Avalanche. He doesn’t admire his handiwork though – he nails a Wabana Buster!
Now that has GOT to be it.

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Zellor just barely was able to get his shoulder up off the mat, Kiebiech’s hand was a hair’s breath from the mat. Rees seems to be ready to cut and run,
and he rolls outside to grab a steel chair! What a chump! He’s back inside now and measuring Stone. He swings – Zellor with a Van Daminator, perfectly
legal because Rees himself brought the weapon into the match. Kiebiech slides the weapon out as Zellor kips up and goes for the pin!





But my goodness was that close. Zellor picks Rees up, and slams him with a back to back vertical suplexes, holding on and drilling him at the end with a
gutbuster suplex! Cover! One……twoooooo……NOT three!!! Rees kicks out and the crowd collectively moans. Someone even tosses their cup of beer into
the ring (he must not be Scottish) and it hits poor old Kiebiech in the back of the head. Rees, buy cialis,, viagra information, buy cialis online,, tadalafil and dapoxetine dosage

fights his way to his feet and takes a wild swing at Rees,
ducks under and runs the ropes to try a Fresh Water Flip – dodged by Zellor! Rees is disoriented, and Zellor rocks him with a Discus Lariat! Rees falls
to the mat in a pile, and Stone with a quick hook of the leg. ONEEEEEE…..TWOOOOOO……SO CLOSE! But no cigar. He wastes no time whipping Rees into the
ropes, and catches him with a spinning TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER! REST … IN … PEACE! ONE! TWO! THREEEEEE—

Foot on the rope.

God I hate Lloyd Rees. Zellor is in the zone though, he doesn’t even care. Here he is now with a toe kick – and SLAMMY TIME CONNECTS!




has no choice but to call for the bell!

BILL HEWSON: Jay O’Brien — where the hell did he come from?! Stone Zellor had the Provincial Title locked up, dammit this isn’t right! We haven’t seen
Jay O’Brien since Sole Survivor II, he’s been out on the injured reserve!

JACK JONES: You don’t know that Hewson! Rees was gonna kick out, I just know it. He’s too good to lose to a – a tag team wrestler posing as a singles wrestler.
ROB MARTINEZ: You realize Lloyd is the reigning NAPW Tag Team Champion as well, don’t you?

JACK JONES: Wise ass. Now I know why I don’t buy REBEL DVDs. Your self-serving one man commentary is enough to drive me up a frickin’ wall.

BILL HEWSON: Who are you, a Delivery Man? Never mind each other, Jay O’Brien has escaped to ringside, LDK has done the same, and I think we’re going to
get the official word from Frank Warburton…

Kiebiech is conferring with Warburton…

FRANK WARBURTON: The winner of the match… as a result of a disqualification, DYNAMITE STONNNNNE ZELLLLOORRRR!

The crowd pops, which is a shame, because Warburton is not done.

FRANK WARBURTON: However, the title can not change hands on a disqualification, so STILL NAPW Provincial Champion… “LDK” LLLLOYD REEEEES!

Rees raises his Provincial title belt high in the air and stumbles up the aisle clutching it and the tag belt, just happy to get the hell out of there.
He lost the match, but not the title. Meanwhile Jay O’Brien is back on the ring, shoving the sole of his boot into Stone’s face. Stone, holding the back
of his head, clearly in pain. O’Brien arrogantly looks out over the crowd, grinning like the cat who swallowed the canary. He taps the cast over his right
wrist and raises it high in the air.


“The Wretched” blares over the speakers. No stories from Jack Jones. No time for any jokes. The monster from the Amazon Basin is on his way to the ring.
Smart money is on there being blood tonight.

FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is REBEL versus NAPW, and it is a DOG COLLAR MATCH! Making his way to the ring area: He is from the Amazon
Basin. He weighs in at three hundred and fifty pounds. He is accompanied by Iago and Miranda. Ladies and gentlemen: THIS IS CALIBAN!!!

The pro NAPW crowd boos the monster, but there is a decent amount of respect for the big man, as some cheers attest. But there’s no doubt how the fans feel
about the opponent:


The Beast is here. And the fans go wild.

FRANK WARBURTON: And his opponent! From St. Albert, Alberta. he weighs in at two hundred and seventy pounds and is accompanied by Bill Fleming. Ladies and

As Richards gets in the ring, he locks eyes with Caliban. Both men move towards each other, but are stopped by their managers. Referee Morgan Smythe straps
the spiked leather collar around the neck of Caliban first. Then Richards. The chain is twelve feet long. Not much space between the men. But even a hundred
foot chain would do little to contain the violence about to erupt. Smythe calls for the bell, and we’re on! Caliban charges! Beast doesn’t step out of
the way, but lunges forward with a clothesline! Both men collide centre ring, neither goes down. Neither shows pain. Clubbing blow from Richards! Caliban’s
head snaps back, then back forward, as he head-butts Richards! Richards staggers back, but Caliban grabs the chain and yanks him forward, then hefts the
Beast up and delivers a tilt a whirl slam! A cover! One… too early, as Richards gets a shoulder up. Caliban drags his opponent to his feet, then whips
him into the ropes! He swings, but Bruce ducks, hits the opposite ropes, and comes back with a HUGE boot to the face! Caliban drops to one knee. And Richards
is wrapping the chain around his fist. … Sorry, check that. THE BEAST is wrapping the chain around his fist.

JACK JONES: Things are about to get ugly here.


Richards with a shot to the top of Caliban’s head.


Another shot to the top of Caliban’s head.




We see blood trickling down Caliban’s neck, a cut opened on the top of his head. Caliban is being driven onto his back as the Beast works on the uncovered
part of his monster opponent’s head. One more shot, and Caliban is on his back. Beast covers! One… Two.. Caliban kicks out! Beast looks only slightly
surprised. He starts to wrap the chain around his forearm. Caliban gets to his feet, and Richards charges… Caliban catches him by the throat! Choke slam!
Caliban doesn’t bother to cover. He wraps the chain around his boot? .. A murmur from the crowd as they wonder



A gasp from the front row as Caliban viciously stomps down on Richards forehead, driving chain into skull. And the crimson is now flowing out of the Beast
as well. A cover from Caliban. One… Two… Kick out by Richards! But this time there was a bit more of a struggle. Caliban grabs the chain, and DRAGS
Richards over to the corner turnbuckle. Iago smiles and nods as Richards is placed on the top turnbuckle. Caliban looks to be going for a superplex…
but Richards gets a shot to the monster’s kidney. Then another. And another. Caliban doesn’t seem to be fazed by it… then he gets a thumb into the eye,
and a hard shove off the ropes! Caliban lands flat on the mat and Richards has positioned himself on the top rope for a no nonsense fist drop! No telling
how much the leather mask protected Caliban, but probably not that big a difference. Richards covers! One… Two… and Caliban kicks out. And there was
a bit less authority in this kick out. Both men get to their feet. Blood is flowing. Tensions are high. Richards grabs the chain and tries to pull Caliban
towards him. Caliban has the same idea. The two men are in a tug of war, trying to drag their opponent across the ring. Beast moves an inch forward, then
Caliban moves an inch forward. Neither man wanting to give up the advantage. Caliban gets a surge of strength and yanks hard on the chain…

only for the Beast to let go. Caliban loses his balance and stumbles back into the turnbuckles. And Richards charges forward hitting a huge running elbow
into the jaw of the Amazon monster! Caliban is staggered, allowing the Beast to wrap the chain around his forearm, and level Caliban with it! Then another!
And another! The Beast’s eyes go wild as he drives his arm into the monster’s face! The fans are on their feet as Richards LOSES IT! Caliban goes down,
the fans go wild! Beast takes the briefest of seconds to take in the response, then covers his opponent!



Caliban gets a shoulder up. Oohs from the crowd. A bit of concern on the face of Iago. But no hesitation from the Beast. He grabs Caliban by the dreadlocks
and drags him up. Blood can be seen seeping through the mask of Caliban. Beast whips Caliban into the ropes, and catches him on the way back with a HUGE
Clothesline! Caliban only goes down to one knee. Beast hits the ropes, then comes back delivering a knee to the head. Caliban goes down to all fours. Richards
gets that glint in his eye again. he wraps up his fist in the chain, hits the ropes, and comes back…

Caliban moves! Beast goes by him, Caliban grabs the chain and yanks back! The Beast’s head snaps back, then is driven forward as he is booted from behind!
The monster wraps the chain around Richard’s throat

And tosses him over the top rope.

ROB MARTINEZ: The Beast is getting the life choked out of him! I know these guys hate each other, but does it need to go this far?

Caliban pulls back on the chain, as Richards tries to get a foot on the ring apron, his fingers under the chain, anything to get the air back into his lungs!
The fans try to cheer him on, but the lights are fading. Caliban starts to pull some more and Richards looks to be going limp. Smythe checks to see if
Richards in unconscious. Caliban gives another yank on the chain, then lets go. Richards tumbles to the floor in a heap. At the urging of Miranda, Caliban
goes out after his opponent.

BILL HEWSON: Just end the match now! Richards is unconscious. Who knows what Caliban will do now?

Caliban wraps the chain around the face of Richards. He hefts the man up. And gets ready to deliver an Argentine Facebuster! This will finish more than
just the match! He drops Richards down…

Countered with a DDT! Still some life left, though you wouldn’t know it by the two men laying on the floor. A pool of blood forms under each man. Their
respective managers keep close watch, but stay away. Nobody wants to get between these two men, even when they’re at half strength. Smythe is at a bit
of a loss right now. There’s no count out or DQ’s, but if both men can’t continue, she has little other choice. She starts a ten count. This does not get
a good reaction from the fans. She gets up to three, and then the boos turn into a stamping of feet, urging the men to get up. At five, Caliban turns over
and tries to sit up. At six, Richards has pushed himself to all fours. At eight, both men have dragged themselves to standing position. The count stops
at nine. Once again. Both men lock eyes. And that’s when the chants start.




The Beast lunges forward, and tackles Caliban to the ground! (no small feat indeed) He lays in with stiff fists, but is then rolled over, and Caliban gets
some shots of his own. But The Beast regains the advantage!

Fans Cheer!

Caliban regains the advantage!

Fans Boo!

Beast gets it back!








Both men are back on their feet, and still trading punches! Finally Beast rolls back into the ring. He grabs the chain and tries to drag Caliban in! Caliban
tries to drag him back out! Only a brief tug of war this time, as Miranda directs Caliban back into the ring!

And The Beast is waiting. With THE CLAW! The fans go wild as he gets his death grip on the Monster! He squeezes with all his might, trying to take the life
out of the monster that has run wild everywhere he’s gone. Caliban goes down to one knee. He reaches up with one arm, and looks to feebly try and swat
at Richards’ face. Richards just shrugs it off. Caliban tries again. He misses the face, but gets ahold of Bruce’s neck. Caliban’s eyes spring open. He
drives his fist into Bruce’s gut, causing Richards to release the claw. But Caliban still has his grip, meaning





Caliban with the cover! Smythe gets in position to count!



Thre- NO!! Richards gets the shoulder up!


ROB MARTINEZ: Is he always…

BILL HEWSON: (bitterly) Yes.

Iago and Miranda are beside themselves. Caliban’s expression is hidden by the mask. And the eyes reveal nothing. Just hate. So it’s no surprise when he
picks Richards up and tries to hit another…

Richards with an elbow to the jaw of Caliban! Caliban staggers, and Beast slips on a cobra clutch… into a COBRA CLUTCH BOMB! Beast is still out of it,
but he crawls over for the cover! One… Two… Caliban with the kickout! A look into the Beast’s eyes reveals not frustration, but anger. Both men refuse
to go easily. So it’s time to stop with the lightweight moves. Beast hefts Caliban up with the pump-handle, then hits a fall away slam! He doesn’t bother
with the cover, instead, he wraps the chain around Caliban’s throat. The fans roar as they get ready for Richards to return the favor from earlier. The
Beast gets ready to toss Caliban over the top rope, but Caliban puts the breaks on, and grabs Richards, going for a sidewalk slam! But the Beast fights
out of the hold, gets his feet on the mat, then lifts up Caliban for the CHART ATTACK! A bloody splotch is left on the mat where Caliban’s face hits! The
fans are going nuts. Bill Fleming is screaming at Richards to make the cover. There is little argument, and Richards hooks the leg! Smythe counts!




A wave of disbelief from the crowd. Fleming looks like he’s ready to have a heart attack. The announcers are too stunned to speak. Any normal man would
be in shock.

But there are no men in that ring. Just a Monster. And a Beast.

And the Beast is going for another Chart Attack.

He hefts the man up. There is no hesitation. He doesn’t play for the crowd. No theatrics. He just drives Caliban into the mat with all the force he can
muster after this brawl. The monster hits the mat with a sickening thud. The Beast leaps forward for the cover. he hooks the leg, and makes sure every
ounce of weight he has is pinning Caliban to the mat. Smythe makes the count.




The fans explode. Iago and Miranda hang their heads, just a little. Bill Fleming lets out a huge sigh of relief. And Smythe raises the hand of the bloody,
exhausted Beast.

FRANK WARBURTON: The winner of this contest: “THE BEAST”! BRUCE RICHARDS!!!

Iago and Miranda tend to Caliban. The Beast stands tall, but only for a moment. The blood loss finally hits him. The adrenaline rush is over. The Beast
collapses. Bill Fleming tends to his charge as officials and medical personnel hit the ring.

The war of attrition is over.




JACK JONES: … needed to drain it before it exploded, which would have been pretty painful in such a sensitive spot.

ROB MARTINEZ: That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.

BILL HEWSON: This is Jack’s idea of polite conversation.

JENNY JERSEY: Ladies and gentlemen the following match is the EIGHT MAN TAG TEAM MATCH UP! Introducing FIRST, representing NEW ALBERTA PRO WRESTLING…
The booing has already started as “Smooth” hits the sound system. CHRIS CASINO emerges from the curtains, flanked by SEBASTIEN MARTYR. Both men look ready
for action, but are wearing very self-satisfied smirks. They brush off the fans as they make their way to the ring.

BILL HEWSON: These two men will be teaming up next week at Tagstravaganza in an effort to claim the NAPW Tag Team Titles! Tonight we’ll get a sneak preview
of how well they’ll work together.

JACK JONES: They’ll work together just fine, Bill Hewson. But more importantly, they’ll send this garbage federation running for the border!

ROB MARTINEZ: I think you’re in for a nasty surprise, Jones.

As Casino and Martyr step into the ring to a further chorus of boos, Pigeonhed heralds the coming of the second half of their team. DONOVAN ASTROS and “The
Career Killer” JAKE PHOENIX step out from the curtains. The crowd doesn’t warm up at all. Chris Casino and Sebastien Martyr are applauding though. Astros
and Phoenix climb into the ring, and all four men take a turnbuckle and mug for the booing crowd.

JENNY JERSEY: Weighing in at a combined weight of NINE HUNDRED and SEVENTY SIX pounds… they are the team of CHRIS CASINO! SEBASTIEN MARTYR! DONOVAN ASTROS,
and “the CAREER KILLER” JAKE! PHOENIX! And their opponents, representing REBEL PRO WRESTLING…

And then “My Generation” hits the speakers and the fans go wild! The Bluegrass Mafia, “The Angry American” MATTHEW KURTIS and “The Show” CHAD KURTIS, step
out from behind the curtains. The brothers Kurtis walk down to ringside, but refuse to get into the ring short-handed, despite all four members of the
NAPW team goading them step up.

JACK JONES: Look at those cowardly hicks! What? Do they think team NAPW is going to attack them! We’re not a bunch of cheaters up here in a PROFESSIONAL
wrestling promotion.

ROB MARTINEZ: Are you kidding me? All four of those men in the ring – the people Rex Caliber HAND-PICKED to represent his promotion – are some of the lowest,
most despicable, most UNSPORTSMANLIKE “wrestlers” in the world!

JACK JONES: They’re just smart competitors! Taking advantage of any situation! That’s what makes them all STARS. At least they aren’t a bunch a nobodies.
BILL HEWSON: I should note that the Bluegrass Mafia are also regular members of the NAPW roster, but I don’t think you two would really care.

“Why Don’t We Do It On The Road” by the Beatles, and MIKE “the Assman” TREY emerges from the curtains to a HUGE OVATION. He looks genuinely surprised, but
quickly begins playing to the crowd, shaking his booty and gladhanding everyone down to ringside.

JACK JONES: Case in point! Who’s ever even HEARD of this guy!?

ROB MARTINEZ: What are you deaf?

BILL HEWSON: Don’t let him get to you, Rob.

And, finally, “Still Cruisin’”, and the Carolinas Champion, MURCIELAGO steps out from the curtains to another big pop. He hoists up his title belt, looks
out over the crowd, and starts down to ringside.

JENNY JERSEY: Weighing in at a combined weight of ONE THOUSAND, SIXTY FIVE pounds… they are the team of MURCIELAGO! MIKE “The ASSMAN” TREY! And MATTHEW

The REBEL team takes a second to enjoy the cheers from ringside, then – as one – surges into the ring! Team NAPW is on them in a second, and both teams
start trading blows. Jake Phoenix throws kicks down on Matthew Kurtis. Donovan Astros is getting chopped by Chad Kurtis. Assman is trading shots with Chris
Casino, and Murcielago is under assault from Sebastien Martyr. The bell rings, and REBEL Senior Referee Dale McDonald quickly breaks things up and gets
control of the match. It looks like Chris Casino and Murcielago are going to start things out here. Casino glances back to his corner and gives Sebastien
Martyr a thumbs up, then to Astros and Phoenix a “I’ll show you two rookies how it’s done.” Phoenix’s expression darkens, but Astros grins a big phony
grin and gives Casino a thumbs up back.

ROB MARTINEZ: What was that about?

JACK JONES: It’s called teamwork. Team NAPW Captain Chris Casino is leading by example.

BILL HEWSON: I don’t think he’s setting the right example, Jack Attack.

JACK JONES: Who’s side are you on, Hewson?

Casino and Murcielago lock up, and start jockeying for position. Murcielago has the size advantage, and presses it, trying to get a hold on Chris Casino
for a power move, but Casino is a bit faster, twists away, and tries to hook up from behind. Murcielago proves to be surprisingly agile, reverses it, locks
up from behind… German Suplex! Casino lands hard, but rolls through to his feet, trying to shake it off. Murcielago takes two steps toward him and Casino
tags in Sebastien Martyr. Martyr takes it a little more cautiously, circling Murcielago, who smirks and gestures for Martyr to hurry up and bring it. Martyr
smirks and lunges at him, and Murcielago retaliates by throwing out a clothesline… but Martyr ducks it, hits the ropes, rebounds for a Short Arm Clothesline!
Murcielago is driven into the mat! Martyr kips up, hits the ropes again, and drops a knee on the Carolinas Champion. The fans boo, while Team NAPW Applaud.
Murcielago rolls over and tags in Matthew Kurtis. The Angry American steps into the ring and Martyr hits the ropes. Sebastien Martyr, looking perhaps for
another clothesline… but Kurtis catches him! Spinning Side Slam! Martyr is blasted into the ring! Matt rises quickly, and drops an elbow on Martyr…
but Sebastien Martyr rolls aside! He scrambles to his feet, lunges to his corner, and goes to tag in Jake Phoenix… but then tags in Chris Casino instead.
Phoenix is like “What the hell!?” but Martyr just shrugs.

ROB MARTINEZ: Some questionable teamwork on the NAPW side.

JACK JONES: They just want to keep some of their power players fresh for later in the match.

Casino rushes into the ring, trying to hit his Running STO, but Matthew Kurtis just no-sells it, and shoves Casino down. Chris Casino kips up, angrily,
and hits the ropes for a running dropkick, but Kurtis just slaps him away. The crowd cheers, and Jake Phoenix angrily shouts for a tag, but Casino isn’t
paying attention. Matthew Kurtis smirks and gestures for Casino to try again. Casino rises, hits the ropes again… but Matthew Kurtis hits the ropes too!
Both men collide mid-ring, and Matthew Kurtis takes Casino up for the Spinning Side Slam… but Casino reverses it! DDT! Kurtis is planted in the ring,
and Casino kips back up looking mighty pleased with himself. He quickly tags in… Sebastien Martyr. Astros gives Casino a big thumbs up again. Phoenix
glowers. Martyr flies into the ring as Matthew Kurtis rises to his feet, and hooks up for the Dark Daze… but Kurtis shoves him away, and staggers back
to the ropes, tagging in his brother Chad Kurtis! “The Show” Chad Kurtis leaps into the ring, hits the ropes… Springboard Dropkick! Sebastien Martyr
drops, and Chad Kurtis goes for a pin! One! Only one. Casino and Astros both reach in for the tag, but Martyr isn’t being given time to recover. Chad Kurtis…
STANDING SHOOTING STAR PRESS! Another pin! One! Phoenix goes to get into the ring, but Martyr kicks out at two! Only two. Chad Kurtis is unperturbed. He
pulls Sebastien Martyr up and whips him to the ropes. Dropkick! No! Martyr catches the ropes, and Kurtis crashes and burns mid-ring! Martyr leaps into
his corner. Astros and Casino are both calling for a tag. Chad Kurtis slowly begins to rise, and Martyr tags in… Chris Casino! Donovan Astros stomps
his feet and curses Martyr who smirks and brushes him off.

ROB MARTINEZ: Great teamwork on the NAPW side.

Chris Casino finally nails his Running STO, flattening “The Show” in the ring, before he can make a tag in his corner. He scrambles to his feet, hits the
ropes, and NAILS an elbow drop, then hooks the leg. One! And a kickout at one. Chris Casino angrily glares at the REBEL referee, and mimics a faster count.
BILL HEWSON: I think that Chris Casino thinks Dale McDonald is favouring Team REBEL.

JACK JONES: Didn’t you see that slow count on Chad Kurtis? Chris Casino might have just won this if it weren’t for that!

BILL HEWSON: It was a one count, Jack Attack. Let’s not get ridiculous here.

Regardless, Chris Casino pulls up “The Show” Chad Kurtis and locks him up. He motions that he’s planning to hit the Brainbuster, and goes for the lift…
but Kurtis manages to hook one of Casino’s legs! Casino tries again, but Chad Kurtis is tenacious. The Show manages to fight out, and hits a toe kick on
Casino that staggers him. The Show hits the ropes… rebounds… CASINO SUPERKICK! Kurtis’ teeth may have just landed in the front row! He staggers and
goes to faceplant, but Chris Casino catches him. Matthew Kurtis, Assman and Murcielago all reach out to try and tag the Show, but Casino laughs and pulls
him closer to the NAPW corner, then hooks up with the double underhook! He turns Chad Kurtis over! The fans reach a fever pitch! Donovan Astros taps his
shoulder! BANKRUPT!


Chris Casino hooks the leg, but Dale McDonald waves it off! Casino’s face turns red, and he DEMANDS that McDonald count! The referee is adamant, Chris Casino
is no longer the legal man! Casino is on his feet, raging at the referee, then turns to his corner… to see that Donovan Astros isn’t there!

Astros is in the ring. He’s got Chad Kurtis up, and Astros is laughing.

ASTROCIDE! Astros’ version of Casino’s Bankrupt! Oh my…





The fans EXPLODE. Donovan Astros can’t believe what just happened. He pins again! One! Two! Kickout! Astros angrily pulls up the Show, shouts something
at the REBEL corner, and locks up the double underhook again. ASTRO-no! The Show shoves Donovan away! Astros turns… SUPERKICK! Both men collapse in the
ring. McDonald starts counting them down. All three men in the REBEL corner start stomping their feet, trying to rally Chad Kurtis. The fans here tonight
start clapping along with them, and a chant of “SHOW! SHOW! SHOW!” begins. Astros and Kurtis both start stirring as the count reaches four. Chad Kurtis
is crawling PAINFULLY slowly towards the REBEL corner. Donovan Astros leaps into his corner, tagging in Jake Phoenix! The Career Killer storms the ring,
grabbing Chad Kurtis by the leg. He starts to pull Kurtis back towards the NAPW corner, but Chad hops up, ENZUGIRI! Phoenix doesn’t fall… but staggers
backward enough for Chad Kurtis to tag in The Assman!


Mike Trey is a house of fire, nailing a Running Neckbreaker on Jake Phoenix that floors the Career Killer. Team NAPW storm the ring! Casino takes a Snapmare
Driver! Donovan Astros gets a Russian Legsweep! Sebastien Martyr is whipped to the corner, and the Assman follows up with a Monkey Flip that sends him
skipping across the mat! The crowd is on its feet!

BILL HEWSON: Mike “The Assman” Trey has just CLEANED HOUSE!


ROB MARTINEZ: You want to know who he is, Jack Jones? You listen to all of these fans!


Martyr, Casino and Astros all roll out of the ring as Dale McDonald reasserts control. Jake Phoenix has rises, and charges at the Assman, who sidesteps.
The Career Killer rebounds off the roes, Assman grabs the head… Bulldog! And a cover! One! Two! Only two. Trey is totally unconcerned. He pops up, wiggles
his butt, and heads for a neutral corner. Phoenix shakes his head out, climbs to his feet, and turns just in time to sidestep an attempted Double Axehandle
from the second rope! He spins, snarling, trying to catch the scrappy Brit, but Assman ducks aside, rolls back… and stops, curled in a ball, hand extending
from between his legs!

JACK JONES: What the hell?

ROB MARTINEZ: Classic! Classic British technical style!

The Career Killer is as perplexed as Jack Jones. He’s stopped dead in his tracks and is staring down at the extended hand, frowning. He turns to his corner,
and all three men shake their heads and wave their arms “NO!” He turns to the crowd, who all start cheering “YES!” He glares back down at the hand, snorts,
takes it… ARMBAR LOCKED IN! Jake Phoenix HOWLS in angry pain and starts bouncing toward the ropes, and the crowd goes wild!

ROB MARTINEZ: Lady Of The Lake! Works every time!

The Assman, his armbar cinched in, cries for Phoenix to tap, but the Career Killer catches the ropes, and McDonald starts counting to five. At four, Trey
releases the hold, and mugs for the crowd, shaking his booty. The fans love it! Jake Phoenix snarls and pulls himself up, then ducks aside when Assman
goes to lock up with him again, reaching out to tag in Martyr… nope! He tags in Donovan Astros instead, and flips Martyr the bird! Astros rushes into
the ring, and starts exchanging STIFF chops with Assman! The crowd “WOO”s along with many of them, but the fresher Astros starts to gain the upper hand,
driving Mike Trey into a neutral corner, then locks up for the BUTTERFLY SUPLEX. Assman lands hard, clutching at his back, and scrambles into his corner,
tagging in The Angry American! Matthew Kurtis rushes at Donovan Astros, who ducks a clothesline and tags back in The Career Killer! Jake Phoenix climbs
back into the ring, and the crowd cheers as both big men finally square off against each other. For a moment, no words are said… then the FISTS ARE FLYING!
Kurtis! Phoenix! Kurtis! Phoenix! Kurtis! Phoenix! Kurtis! Kurtis! KURTIS! And BAM, SPINEBUSTER flattens Phoenix! Jake Phoenix tries to roll away, but
Matthew Kurtis grabs hold of him and starts pulling him up, and gets a shot to the abdomen for his trouble. Jake Phoenix pulls free, hits the ropes for
momentum, and rushes at Kurtis for the Short Arm Clothesline, but Matthew Kurtis ducks aside! Jake Phoenix nearly careens into Dale McDonald, but stops
short of clobbering the referee. McDonald breathes a sigh of relief and Phoenix turns… CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL! But The Career Killer ducks aside! And
Senior Referee Dale McDonald is sent up and over the ropes and CRASHES to ringside!


Matthew Kurtis looks over the ropes at the crumpled zebra, wincing with apologetic sympathy. The Angry American starts to turn, but suddenly the Career
Killer has an arm around his neck, and pulls Kurtis down for a SICK Backbreaker over his knee! The crowd boos as Matthew Kurtis bounces back up, clutching
at his spine and howling, and Phoenix presses his attack… he hooks up with Kurtis and is signalling for the TOMBSTONE! He hauls up the giant Angry American!
Phoenix turns, Matthew Kurtis up for the piledriver…

And LOVELY LYNDSEY VALENTINE comes off the top rope!



BILL HEWSON: Where’d she even come from!

The Career Killer is BEHEADED, crumpling over with The Angry American crashing down on top of him! The crowd goes NUTS! Jake Phoenix angrily pushes Kurtis
off of him and scrambles to his feet! He wheels around… TOE KICK! BLOODY VALENTINE! The Career Killer has been LAID OUT! Holy hell! Lyndsey Valentine
kips up and raises an arm, the crowd cheering… but then Donovan Astros has her by the hair! He cackles and locks her up for his Astrocide… but then
THE SHOW is coming off the top rope! Missile Dropkick! Lyndsey rolls out of the ring to safety, but things are totally breaking down! Chad Kurtis pulls
up Donovan Astros, but someone taps him on the shoulder, and when the Show turns… DARK DAZE! Martyr shouts over Chris Casino, then turns and gets YAKUZA
KICKED by Matthew Kurtis, who in turn gets his bad leg chop blocked by Chris Casino! Chad Kurtis rolls out of the ring, as Astros and Casino both start
STOMPING away at Matthew Kurthis’ leg. The Angry American HOWLS, and that gets both Murcielago and Assman charging into the ring! The Carolinas Champion
hits a clothesline that sends both himself and Donovan Astros spilling to ringside, while Assman starts throwing Knife Edge Chops at Chris Casino, driving
him towards the corner. This gives Matthew Kurtis time to roll out of the ring, clutching at his knee, and swearing loudly.

BILL HEWSON: Uh, oh. I hope Matthew Kurtis’ leg hasn’t been aggravated!

Sebastien Martyr has risen back to his feet and charges at the Assman, who sidesteps. Martyr crashes into Casino in the corner, and both men sag. At ringside,
Murcielago and Astros are exchanging blows, and Astros seems to be gaining some momentum. Back in the ring, The Assman, works the crowd, stomping his feet
and getting them fired up, then he wiggles his butt, rushes into the corner for a BUTT BUMP! The crowd starts chanting “ASS-MAN! ASS-MAN! ASS-MAN!” as
Martyr and Casino both crumple. Trey hauls up Chris Casino, pulls him to the middle of the ring, and sets him up for Assassination! Wait! Sebastien Martyr
is up! Martyr rushes over for a clothesline, but Assman’s ready for him, planting a kick that doubles him over! He catches hold of Martyr… DOUBLE ASSASSINATION!

Chris Casino and Sebastien Martyr are both DONE! The crowd is on it’s feet! Assman raises his arms triumphantly… and is suddenly being bent over backwards,
and grabbed around the waist! TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER! The Career Killer, seemingly still alive, spits down on him, and turns… Toe Kick! Lock Up! DROP TOP!
Murcielago strikes a pose, then turns as Donovan Astros charges him, catching him… SPINEBUSTER! Good lord, the power of the Carolinas Champion! He shouts
down at Lyndsey Valentine to get the referee back up. She nods and starts shaking Dale McDonald, but the zebra is still not moving. He turns… LOW BLOW!
BOO! Murcielago howls, clutching his junk, and Astros locks up for the Aztecan Suplex… but Murcielago POWERS OUT! He cinches up Astros… RELEASE GERMAN
SUPLEX! Astros bounces away across the ring, as Murcielago staggers to one knee, still clutching his swollen jewels. Astros pulls himself up in a corner,
and Murcielago charges him, but there’s NOBODY HOME! Murcielago crashes into the ring post, and the crowd GOANS with sympathy! He staggers back, turns,
and CATCHES Donovan Astros as his opponent goes for a running lariat! Astros shakes his head “NO!”… SIDE SLAM! With authority! Murcielago winces, and
clutches his shoulder, but hooks then leg! There’s STILL no ref… WAIT! Dale McDonald is back in the ring! Lyndsey Valentine seems to have revived him!
He crawls over to the pinfall, assuming that Murcielago and Astros are legal. The crowd is on it’s feet! ONE! TWO! Leg on the ropes! Murcielago pounds
the mat and angrily pulls Donovan Astros to his feet! He hooks up his head, pulls him up… DROP TOP! That’s ALL THE WROTE!




Out of NOWHERE! He breaks up the pin with a perfect dropkick that sends Murcielago rolling toward his corner. The Carolinas Champion winces, and rises,
using the ropes. Dale McDonald slowly rises, and shouts at Chris Casino to get out of the ring, desperately trying to gain some semblance of order here,
but Casino takes three steps toward Murcielago… SUPERKICK! Murcielago SPILLS over the ropes to ringside… but not before “The Show” Chad Kurtis – the
only REBEL man up in their corner – tagged himself in. Ref notes the tag, and Chad Kurtis scrambles into the ring as Casino goes upstairs, oblivious, eyes
fixated on the prone Murcielago at ringside! Casino… FLYING ELBOW DROP! SPLAT, right into Murcielago’s heart! The crowd it on it’s feet! “HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SH-” But it’s cut off as Chad Kurtis hits the corner for the BEST! MOONSAULT! EVER!

But Donovan Astros got the legs up.

ROB MARTINEZ: NO! He was playing possum!

The Show crashes and burns, clutching his ribs and howling as Donovan Astros scrambles to his feet! He goes to grab Kurtis, but suddenly The Assman is there!
Donovan Astros ducks a European Uppercut, and suddenly Assman is face to face with Jake Phoenix! The Career Killer forcibly ejects the Assman from the
ring over the top rope, leaving Donovan Astros free to lock up Chad Kurtis for… ASTROCIDE! Not another one! He hooks the leg!


Matthew Kurtis is trying to get into the ring!


Sebastien Martyr grabs him by the legs and pulls him back to ringside!



JACK JONES: Yes! Yes! We won! In your FACE, Martinez! I was a little worried with that slow counting referee, but even he couldn’t stop the momentum of
the NAPW!

Lyndsey Valentine, at ringside, helps Matthew Kurtis – who is limping badly – to his feet. He grimly helps his brother Chad out of the ring. Across from
them, Mike “Assman” Trey helps up Murceilago. All four men look somewhat heartbroken…


But that sure as hell makes it all worth while doesn’t it. Murcielago and Assman crack smiles and glad hand with the fans a bit around the ring. Lyndsey
Valentine and Chad Kurtis, however, help Matthew backstage.

BILL HEWSON: Hell of a showdown here tonight between eight fantastic athletes. I certainly hope that Matthew Kurtis isn’t hurt too badly, as we want to
see him back in action next week at NAPW’s TAGSTRAVAGANZA show.

JACK JONES: I’ll admit, they’re all phenomenal wrestlers, even the REBEL guys – they impressed me here tonight – but in the end, the better promotion won.
ROB MARTINEZ: And yet the NAPW fans are cheering for the REBEL wrestlers. Because our guys aren’t dickheads. Go figure.

In the ring, Jake Phoenix and Donovan Astros are celebrating, while Sebastien Martyr collects Chris Casino from ringside. Martyr and Casino roll into the
ring, and get to their feet. Chris Casino smirks, “See, under my leadership, we couldn’t lose! Hope you two rookies learnt something tonight, watching
me win this match for us.” He extends a hand to Donovan Astros, but Astros just glances at the Career Killer, and both men turn and leave, totally blowing
off the former champion. Casino shrugs and looks at Martyr. “There’s gratitude for you.”


JENNY JERSEY: This match is scheduled for one fall and it is for the REBEL Heavyweight Championship!!

“Supernova Goes Pop” by Powerman 5000 hits the speakers and the Canadian crowd gives a good pop for the man that emerges from the back.

JENNY JERSEY: Coming to the ring first, he hails from Batavia, New York and weighed in tonight at 215 pounds…Chris “The Sparx” Corstenoca!!!

The number one contender for the title makes his way to the ring, slapping the outstretched hands of fans along ringside. He climbs into the ring, hits
a corner and gets another great reaction from the crowd.

“Here Comes The Champ!” by Jadakiss replaces Powerman and the cheers turn into a loud chorus of boos.

JENNY JERSEY: And his opponent, he hails from North Carolina and weighs in tonight at 245 pounds….The NAPW Owner AND the REBEL Heavyweight Champion…Rex

Caliber comes out from the back to intense heat from the crowd. Maybe it’s because of his recent actions in REBEL or the fact that his manager Static is
toting the American Flag with him. The duo, complete with half a dozen of Rex Caliber Fan Club members head to the ring while “The Sparx” looks on.

ROB MARTINEZ: This is it, our main event is only seconds from happening and I cannot wait! Rex Caliber has turned his back on everyone if his fans and made
a mockery of the REBEL Heavyweight Title. Meanwhile what a Cinderella story it would be if “The Sparx” won the belt in only his second match with the company?
Caliber is now inside the ring and instead of handing the Heavyweight Title to the referee he passes it off to Static who is standing ringside. Static holds
the belt high above his head and hurls insults at the fans along ringside. The referee asks if both men are ready to go, gets a definite “yes” in return
from both competitors and calls for the bell!

ROB MARTINEZ: Here we go! The biggest match in REBEL history is now underway!

The pair go to lock up but Rex drives a boot into the gut of Chris that stops him in his tracks. A pair of stiff right hands back “The Sparx” up against
the ropes where he’s Irished whipped off by Caliber. Chris ducks a Caliber clothesline and rebounds off the opposite ropes with a leaping forearm shot
to the head of the champ! Rex scrambles to his feet and takes a deep armdrag from Chris that sends him back to the mat. Caliber again quickly gets to his
feet and takes a picture perfect dropkick from Corstenoca that sends him over the tope rope and down to the floor below! A pair of members from Calibers
fan club rush over and check on their hero as “The Sparx” looks at the crowd and smirks. As the fan club members help Rex to his feet, Corstenoca hits
the trio with a rolling helo over the tope rope! All four men are laid out but the crowd is on their feet after the amazing high risk move. Corstenoca
pulls himself up, grabs Caliber and rolls him back into the ring before climbing in after him. Inside, “The Sparx” covers Caliber for the pin but gets
just a count of one.

ROB MARTINEZ: Corstenoca is trying to end this early and to be honest I don’t blame him. Rex has a huge advantage when it comes to big match environment
while this is Corstenoca’s first shot at a top title in this industry.

Corstenoca has pulled Rex to his feet and peppers him with several lightning quick left forearm shots to the head. One scoop slam later and the REBEL Champion
is laying flat on his back in the center of the ring. Corstenoca goes to the near turnbuckle, scales to the top and takes flight! Rex moves at the last
possible second as Corstenoca crashes and burns with his elbow drop attempt! Rex gets to his feet and hits the near ropes nailing a rising “Sparx” with
a Yakuza kick to the side of the head. Rex again comes off the ropes this time hitting a jumping knee drop across the chest of Corstenoca. Instead of going
for a pin, Caliber grinds his forearm across the face of the challenger. Corstenoca shoves him off and tries to get to his feet only to have a knee driven
into his ribs by Caliber. Rex hooks Corstenoca and takes him over with a T Bone suplex! Chris uses the ring ropes to tries and pull himself up but takes
a running knee from Caliber that sends him through the ropes and down to the floor. Caliber rolls to the outside and pulls a dazed Corstenoca to his feet.
With Static cheering him on, Rex takes Corstenoca up and over with a snap suplex onto the floor!

ROB MARTINEZ: Corstenoca is in trouble as long as he lets Caliber dictate the pace of this match.

Rex drags “The Sparx” off the floor and shots him shoulder first into the ringpost. Corstenoca staggers away from the post and gets dropped by a clothesline
from Caliber! Static rushes over and holds the REBEL title in the face of Chris. Chris tries to push him away but Caliber lays into him with several kicks.
Static hands the belt off to a fan club member and joins his partner in what looks like a street mugging. The duo pull Corstenoca to his feet and Static
holds him as Rex grabs a chair from ringside. Rex swings for the fences but Corstenoca ducks down and it’s Static that gets clobbered by the chair! Static
spins and drops to all fours from the force of the blow. Rex looks down at his manager and Corstenoca hits a dropkick to the back of Caliber that sends
him sprawling on top of his former tag team partner! The crowd erupt in laughs as the camera shows that Caliber has landed on Static to make it look like
they are…Well think “Brokeback Mountain.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Chris reaches down and pulls Caliber off of his partner but takes
a back elbow to the face. Rex spins around and with chair still in hand slams it across the head of Chris “The Sparx” Corstenoca!

ROB MARTINEZ: Good Lord! That shot could be heard all the way in the cheap seats of the arena!

Chris is slumped against the ring barrier and we see a trickle of blood running down his forehead. He barely has time to get a hand up before Caliber cracks
him again with the now dented chair. Caliber tosses the chair away, grabs hold of a dazed Corstenoca and rolls him into the ring. Static is also back to
his feet and he passes something off to Caliber before the champ rolls into the ring. Corstenoca has gotten to his feet and turns just as Caliber jabs
something into his forehead that drops him like a fallen tree! The camera zooms in on what Caliber is holding and we see that it’s a damn screwdriver!
Caliber quickly mounts Corstenoca and starts to dig the tip of the screwdriver into the open wound of “The Sparx.” Corstenoca is able to shove Caliber
off and he scrambles to get back to his feet. Rex sticks the screwdriver into his boot and drives his knee into the back of the now bloody challenger.
Caliber whips Corstenoca into the ropes and nails him with a Samoan drop! He quickly goes for a cover but the young challenger kicks out at two!

ROB MARTINEZ: Corstenoca is still in this! But the question is how much more punishment can he take?

Rex is all smiles as he pulls Corstenoca back to his feet. Rex shoots him into the near turnbuckle and follows him in with a clothesline. “The Sparx” gets
a boot up into the face of the charging Rex Caliber! Corstenoca quickly pulls himself up to the second turnbuckle and hits a leaping tornado DDT! Chris
is a bloody mess but he rolls over and drapes an arm across the chest of Caliber. The Champ kicks out at two! Both men struggle up to their feet and Corstenoca
hooks the champ from behind and hits his Face Bomb! Instead of going for a pin, Corstenoca rolls to the outside and throws back the ring skirt. Chris pulls
out a trash can that’s filled with all kinds of plunder and it gets a big pop from the crowd! Chris shoves the trash can inside the ring and pulls himself
up onto the ring apron. Rex is getting to his feet just as Corstenoca springboards off the top rope and hits a seated plancha on the Champion! Corstenoca
hooks a leg but Caliber kicks out at two. Corstenoca quickly goes to the trash can, upturns it and a pile of goodies fall out to the mat.

ROB MARTINEZ: It wouldn’t be REBEL without a trash can or lethal weapons!

Rex is getting back to his feet and Corstenoca hurls the trash can at him and it bounces off the bald head Caliber. Caliber drops onto his ass and is Corstenoca
nails him in the face with a basement dropkick! Corstenoca wipes blood from his eyes and walks over to the plunder laying on the mat. He picks up a pizza
cutter and walks over to Caliber who is trying to get to his feet. “The Sparx” comes up from behind Caliber and starts to run the pizza cutter back and
forth across the forehead of the REBEL Champion! Rex is howling in pain and flailing his arms trying to break free from Corstenoca. Chris shoves Rex to
the mat and returns to the plunder. He drops the pizza cutter and picks up a staple gun as the crowd pops big time! The camera catches Caliber resting
on his knees and we see that the pizza cutter has sliced him open horribly. Corstenoca approaches Caliber with the staple gun but takes a low blow that
drops him! Rex grabs the dropped staple gun and pops one into the forehead of Corstenoca!

ROB MARTINEZ: Both of these men are willing to go to any length to win this match! I can only wonder if they’ll even be able to stand once this thing is

A bloodied Rex puts another staple into the head of Corstenoca and drops the staple gun onto the mat before rolling to the outside. Static has recovered
from the earlier chair shot and is dragging something out from under the ring. Caliber lends a hand and they produce a huge board with reams of barbed
wire on it! They slide the board into the ring and Caliber climbs in after it. Corstenoca is getting to his feet and takes a hangmans neckbreaker from
Caliber that puts him back onto the mat. Caliber returns to his board of barbed wire and props it up against a corner. Corstenoca is pulled to his feet
and Caliber shoots him into the corner with the board. It’s reversed and it looks like Caliber is going to go into the barbed wire! Reversed again and
it’s Corstenoca who hits the barbed wire board back first! The crowd groans as they see Chris try to pull his flesh free of the barbed wire. Meanwhile
Rex has found the stash of goodies that Corstenoca has brought into the ring and grabs an item to his liking. It’s a large black bag and Caliber unties
it, turns it over and pours out thousands of thumbtacks!

ROB MARTINEZ: This is getting a little to out of hand, even for a REBEL match!

Caliber spreads the tacks around the mat with his boot and tosses the empty bag out into the crowd. Corstenoca has freed himself from the barbed wire board
and walks straight into a kick to the gut from the champ! Caliber pulls him into position for him Planetary Collision and the crowd holds it’s breath.
Corstenoca reverses the move into a backdrop and Caliber lands in the sea of tacks! The crowd both cheer and groan as the camera zooms in on the thumbtack
covered back of Rex Caliber! Sparx Star Press! One! Two! Thr..NO!! Caliber kicks out somehow! Corstenoca pulls a bloodied and tack covered Rex to his feet
and nails the Novocain! One! Two! Again Rex kicks out at three! Corstenoca looks frustrated as he rolls to the outside. Chris once more goes under the
ring and pulls out everyones favorite toy. A table! Chris slides in the table, climbs in after it and sets the table up in the center of the ring. Rex
is now to his feet and takes a sharp right hand to the head. Corstenoca hoists up Caliber and places him on the top turnbuckle. Corstenoca starts to climb
up after Rex and the crowd is standing.

ROB MARTINEZ: Oh my God. I think he’ going for it all right here, it looks like he wants to hit his Kronick Krunch through the table he just set up!

Indeed that is what Corstenoca is going to attempt. However he forgot about one thing, something that Caliber is all to happy to remind him off. Rex slips
the screwdriver out of his boot and jabs it into the head of Chris “The Sparx” Corstenoca! The challenger drops down to the mat and Caliber eases himself
down to the second turnbuckle. Caliber tosses the screwdriver away, grabs the head of Corstenoca and pulls it between his legs. With a great effort Caliber
hoists Corstenoca up for what looks to be a powerbomb off the second rope…

But No!

Caliber is able to get Corstenoca up for his Planetary Collision and comes off the second turnbuckle with it! They smash through the table and the crowd
gives them a loud and happy “Holy Shit!” both men lay in the wreckage for what seems like an eternity before Caliber is able to roll Corstenoca over for
the pin attempt. One! Two! Three! It’s over!

ROB MARTINEZ: What a match! REBEL just showed that we’re not about to play second fiddle to anyone, including NAPW!

Static is in the ring and pulls the Champ out of the smashed table.

JENNY JERSEY: The winner of this match…And still REBEL Heavyweight Champion…REX CALIBER!!!!

Static and a handful of members from the Caliber fan club pull the champ out of the ring. Static drapes the belt over the shoulder of a nearly unconscious

ROB MARTINEZ: He might have lost here tonight but Chris “The Sparx” Corstenoca just took a major leap in his career! From now on REBEL better be on notice…Because
“The Sparx” is legit!

Speaking of “The Sparx” He’s trying to get to his feet and the crowd gives him a huge ovation for his efforts. He smiles through a blood covered face and
is able to get up to a vertical base. Now the entire crowd is giving him a standing ovation and it’s easy to tell that tonight could be the highlight of
this young mans career.


A shot of the commentary table, with all three men recovering from watching the bloody, epic REBEL title match.

BILL HEWSON: Rob Martinez, that was one hell of a REBEL title match. I don’t know what to think about Rex Caliber’s recent actions as owner of NAPW, reforming
The Crimes mark 2, but you can’t deny the man’s sheer ability and guts in the ring.

ROB MARTINEZ: That match was what REBEL is all about, but the real story of the match for me was this kid Chris Corstenoca. I see big things in the future
for “The Sparx.”

BILL HEWSON: Rob, it’s been a pleasure to call the show alongside you tonight.

ROB MARTINEZ: The feeling is mutual, I’m already looking forward to the next supershow. Bill, Jack, I’ll see you later.

Martinez makes his exit. Jack Attack remains silent until he’s well gone.

JACK JONES: What was that? The announcer appreciation club? Rob Martinez couldn’t carry this stick.

BILL HEWSON: I don’t know, it was a nice change of pace. Working with a true professional.

JACK JONES: I am a professional, doofus.

BILL HEWSON: I don’t think you can BE a professional loan shark, Jack Attack. The first half of our double main event is over, and it was Rex Caliber retaining
his REBEL Heavyweight title. The second of two major title matches is coming up next… will we see retentions across the board, or will the NAPW title
change hands? Let’s take a look at the history between Simply Beautiful and the champion… Ravager.
January 9, 2007

The crowd is on their feet at the tenacity of this man. Ravager lunges at Simply Beautiful with a clothesline, and Simply Beautiful ducks. But Ravager hits
the ropes and comes back full force with a sick, sick lariat, that flips Simply Beautiful in the air until he hits the mat. Ravager, with his bloody face
and frenzied expression, drops to his knees, and covers the prone Simply Beautiful. Kiebiech counts the pin with a one, two, THREE!

SB looks up… hesitates… and then grabs the hand. Ravager pulls him up to his feet and gives a firm handshake, slapping SB on the shoulder and mouthing
words we can not hear.

March 13, 2007

Ravager scrambles to his feet and takes a forearm shot to the head from SB! Another shot has Ravager stumbling! Simply Beautiful hits the near ropes and
goes for another forearm shiver but Ravager ducks under, hooks SB and finally nails his Last Resort! The referee drops to the mat and slaps it three times
as Simply Beautiful is unable to kick out!

FRANK WARBURTON: Your winner, and still NAPW Champion….Ravager!

BILL HEWSON: Simply Beautiful showed everyone tonight that he belongs in the main events here in NAPW!

March 27, 2007

he knees and raises his arms! THIS MATCH IS OVER! CALL IT FRANK WARBURTON!

Or maybe you should wait for Simply Beautiful to finish skinning that cat.

He drops into the ring, just as Sebastien Martyr realises that the bell hasn’t gone! He turns, eyes flashing, and LUNGES at Simply Beautiful! A clothesline
sends BOTH MEN OVER THE ROPES! Both men grab the ropes, landing more or less on their feet on the apron. Martyr turns to strike… SEXXYKICK!



BILL HEWSON: What a night this has been! Simply Beautiful has won the biggest match of his entire career, perhaps the biggest match of the year for NAPW!
FRANK WARBURTON: Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the New Alberta Pro Wrestling CHAMPIONSHIP BOUT.


Crazy? Crazy like THE EDMONTON FANS! They’ve witnessed a long night of wrestling, they’ve witnessed some emotional matches, and some violent ones. But it’s
time for main event between arguably the two most popular NAPW wrestlers. Period. And first out comes the man, the myth, the legend… sporting his usual
cocky grin and sunglasses…Simply Beautiful! He comes to the ring quickly, slapping a few hands before rolling in and hitting the corner. Referee Dick
Kiebiech slips quietly into the ring after SB. The Italian Stallion pulls of his sunglasses to reveal eyes at odds with his demeanor. In one word: Focused.
SB waits then and the fans turn their attention to the curtain as the lights go out. Flashing and then flickering lights as Four Cellos fill the auditory

It builds to a crescendo.


Calmly striding from the curtain, all business with a look of deadly intensity on his eyes, with the NAPW Championship belt around his waist…, is the
one and only Ravager. The champion looks over the hundreds of roaring fans, stomping and cheering. The champ takes his time getting to the ring, stepping
to the apron and wiping his feet before going through the ropes. He steps on the bottom turnbuckle and looks out again, arms stiffly by his side. Finally,
Ravager drops down and the introductions begin.

FRANK WARBURTON: The following contest is scheduled for one fall at a sixty minute time limit, and is for the Undisputed NAPW Championship! The referee
in charge at the bell, senior official Dick Kiebiech! Now, introducing the competitors…

First, wearing blue and black… weighing in at two-hundred and thirty-five pounds, he is the 2007 Sole Survivor winner… ladies and gentlemen, from Staten
Island, New York, the former Pure Honor champion, The Italian Stallion, SIMPLLLLLLLLY BEAUTIFULLLLLLLL!

To my left wearing black… He comes to the ring today weighing in at two-hundred and ten pounds. He is a multiple-time champion here in NAPW and tonight,
is defending his NAPW title for a record sixth time… ladies and gentlemen, from Brooklyn New York… The Last Resort, The White-Collar Assassin, the

The crowd showers both men with applause. Referee Dick Kiebiech pats down Simply Beautiful, then proceeds across the ring to do the same to Ravager. The
champion never takes his eyes off of SB, even while surrending the title belt to Kiebiech, who holds it above his head and displays to the capacity Polish
Hall crowd exactly what is on the line. The ultimate prize.


BILL HEWSON: And that is the bell to start this match-up! What an unbelievable night of action it has been and this has the potential to top them all! Ravager,
Simply Beautiful, NAPW title on the line!

SB and Ravager meet at the center of the ring, the champion extending his hand to SB, who hesitates only briefly. They shake and begin to circle.

BILL HEWSON: SB a tiny bit cautious of the handshake by Ravager, but over the course of this year both men have gained a great deal of respect for one another.
Ravager has not always been known for playing fair, shall we say, but he has been a trend-setter as NAPW champion with decisive and clean victories for
five title defenses now.

JACK JONES: There is nobody in the business that can match the intensity level of Ravager, Bill Hewson. Not for nothing that Simply Beautiful is 0-2 against
Ravager in singles competition. But you’re talking about a man in Simply Beautiful that at Sole Survivor II, got the hell beaten out of him and then came
back out to win the big 30-man Sole Survivor match. I’m not a “fan” of either man but they bring an awful lot to this dance.

BILL HEWSON: Simply Beautiful has had some huge moments in NAPW, defeated some top stars, but he has never pinned Ravager. He has not held the NAPW championship.
You have to believe he’s looking to change that statistic here tonight!

Feeling out process sees Ravager grab a headlock. Simply Beautiful counters and takes Ravager down by the legs, grabbing an overhead wristlock. Ravager
forces his way back up, reversing, SB flips forward and back up, continuing to hold on. He pushes forward and gets his leg behind Ravager’s knees, forcing
the man down to the canvas. SB pushes forward, then leaps up while still holding Ravager’s hands to drive his knees into the champion’s midsection. Ravager
grunts in pain as SB grabs one arm, going for the Fujiwara Armbar! He’s trying to get it on and put this one away early but quickly Ravager makes it to
the ropes. Clean break and SB wins the first exchange!

JACK JONES: The last two times these men went at it, they were trash-talking in the middle of the ring. Now they’re, what do they call it, wrestling to
start off. Things have changed, Bill Hewson.

BILL HEWSON: As I said, a great deal of respect between these two men stemming from the two tremendous encounters they’ve already had this year. Right now
Simply Beautiful displaying some of his technical wrestling skills. It’s easy to forget, given the man’s flashy tendencies, just how good of a Wrestler
he can be.

JACK JONES: I guarantee you Ravager hasn’t forgotten.

They hook-up again and Ravager once again takes control with a headlock. Easy enough for SB to maneuver behind for a belly-to-back suplex, no, Ravager throws
his weight forward and takes SB down to the canvas. SB reaches around, trying to get a hold, he slips out of the headlock and goes for the arm, Ravager
switches it up and gets a headscissors! SB tries to squirm free, can’t, so he does a headstand and flips out of it! SB on Ravager, looking for the advantage,
but Ravager suddenly on top! He gets a cravate, going for The Garotte! SB feels it coming and this time it’s SB scrambling to the ropes, hooking his foot
across the bottom for a break. It’s clean, both men back up to their feet. SB and Ravager eye each other…

Ravager cracks a smile.

The barest of smiles, but nonetheless. SB snorts and they tie-up again, this time Ravager wins and he throws a european uppercut into SB’s jaw. “EYYYYYY!”
SB fires back with a chop. “WHOOOO!” Ravager with a european uppercut again, then a chop of his own, OOOOOH. You could feel that one just by watching!
He backs SB into the ropes, irish whip, knee to the breadbasket sends SB stumbling over. Ravager grabs the arms and pulls them out, driving his knee into
the back of SB’s neck and back in a modified surfboard stretch. SB shakes his head no as Kiebiech asks if there is a submission, then begins to get up,
trying to turn things around, twisting. SB gets behind Ravager, belly-to-back this time, Ravager flips out behind, SB ducks a sudden lariat attempt, then
grabs Ravager for a quick side Russian Leg Sweep! Nice move by SB and he’s quick to take advantage, hitting the ropes and springboarding off with a big
elbow, catching the rising Ravager right in the mush. First cover of the match one, two, champion kicks out. But there’s no time wasted by SB as he chops
the champ in the bare chest, WHOOOO! Again, WHOOOO! He has him in the corner, CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! Ravager gets fed up with that and throws an uppercut into
SB’s jaw, then several forearm shots! SB is reeling!

JACK JONES: And this isn’t how Simply Beautiful is going to win the title, you can’t trade strikes with Ravager! Simply Beautiful has to stick with his
game plan, wear the man down and then go high-risk!

SB in the corner and Ravager chops…


Ravager shrugs and UNLEASHES a lethal chop! A sickening echo rises up, SB cringes, but grits his teeth and screams “COME ON! COME ON! COME ON!” CHOP!






BILL HEWSON: You’re right, Jack Jones, usually you don’t want to exchange strikes with Ravager but Simply Beautiful just won a war of chops with the champion!
Ravager is covering up in the ropes and Kiebiech has to get between the two men! Clean break, but then SB… OH my GOD! Another huge chop! Ravager’s chest
is swelling open!

JACK JONES: That chest needs a tan as it is, now it’s like Snow White all over Ravager’s pecs — red on white!

Simply Beautiful is gaining momentum here from the tremendous energy of the fans, and he is actually destroying Ravager in a war of strikes! Ravager takes
another chop, grimacing, then tries to throw a headbutt at SB. He stuns the man momentarily, but SB screams and forearms Ravager in the side of the head
stiffly! Onetwothree rapid forearms in the side of the head, Ravager against the ropes, SB sends him off and CATCHES him square in the mouth with a spinning
heel kick! One, two, kick-out, SB races the ropes and hits the SPIN DOCTOR neckbreaker on Ravager —- standing moonsault connects! One, two, and another
kick-out by the champion PAINKILLER! SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL HAS IT LOCKED ON, RAVAGER LETTING OUT A YELL OF PAIN! “ARGH!” “Do you want to give it up, Ravager?
Ravager do you want to give it up”? “Argh — NO. NO.” Simply Beautiful reaching back on the Painkiller!

Ravager tries to scott around! Can he… he can’t seem to get that foot on the ropes!



Simply Beautiful has to kick-out there, and it breaks the hold, but Ravager is feeling the effects. And SB knows it. He hammerlocks the damaged right arm
behind Ravager’s back, pick-up, back suplex on the arm! SB finally gets it and how. SB driving his forearms into the right shoulder and upper arm. He’s
targetted. Wait a minute, Ravager with a desperate left-hand chop. He stuns SB, runs off the ropes, SB with a flying enziguri out of nowhere! From a literal
stunned standing position, right upside Ravager’s head! The champ goes down and SB is right on the arm, holding it extending and driving the point of his
elbow into the shoulder. Ram, ram, ram! Judas Priest style, RAM IT DOWN. Wait, what? SB locks the hand up and puts Ravager on his shoulder for a scoop
slam, again with the arm behind the man’s back!

BILL HEWSON: This is not the match we expected to see, Jack Jones! Simply Beautiful has brought his absolute A-Game here tonight and clearly, he knows he
can’t simply wrestle his usual match against the champion. But I never thought we’d see SB beat Ravager at Ravager’s own game!

JACK JONES: He’s outwrestled him, he’s out-hit him, and now he’s latched onto that injured body part like a pit bull! And if Ravager can’t use that right
arm, how’s he going to hit the Lariat that put SB away once? How’s he going to have the strength to hit the Dragon Suplex? Simply Beautiful is taking away
all of Ravager’s most potent moves by taking away the arm!

SB has Ravager on the canvas with an arm-bar, catching his own breath while ensuring Ravager does not have the same opportunity. Slowly the two men take
their feet, SB still holding on, as Ravager drives elbows into the mid-section of Simply Beautiful. Third time’s a charm as SB can’t hold on with pounding
on his diaphragm. Ravager holding his arm in pain, but hits the ropes and tries for


SB ducks underneath! Ravager grabs the ropes and stops running, SB charges, dumped up and over by Ravager, SB lands on the apron, fires at Ravager, blocked,
HEADBUTT SB ALL THE WAY TO THE CONCRETE! Simply Beautiful crashes throat first against the guardrail. He’s getting up and wait a minute, what the hell
is Ravager thinking? Ravager looking at SB, waiting til he gets up, hits the ropes, SUICIDE DIVE THROUGH THE ROPES TO THE FLOOR! RAVAGER WIPES OUT SIMPLY


BILL HEWSON: Ravager went high-risk and came up big! This could be the turning point of the match-up if he can work around his injured arm! That was almost
a page out of Simply Beautiful’s playbook right there, Jones!

JACK JONES: It’s all about the ten pounds of GOLLLLLD, Bill Hewson! Men put their bodies on the line to be the Champion, because that means you’re the BEST.
Ravager with a left hand chop on SB, clearly his right arm is damaged. SB fires a chop onto Ravager’s chest again, then tries to send Ravager shoulder first
into the steel ringpost, Ravager uses the momentum to sidestep and SB’s bell gets rung on the post instead. Ravager takes a moment to gain some energy,
but then grabs SB and rolls him into the ring to break the count, and Ravager is ascending to the top rope? Is he going for the diving headbutt? … HE


Ravager holding his head, leans back for a pin but can’t reach back to hook the leg due to his arm, still one, two, KICK OUT. Ravager’s face tells the story,
he needed to end it there, but he couldn’t hook the leg. And that puts him at a huge disadvantage. Ravager has Simply Beautiful up, Northern Lights Suplex!
Ravager bridges up, one, two, SB again kicks out! Would he have if Ravager’s arm was at full strength? Ravager again slow to get up, SB … Simply Beautiful
quite frankly looks slightly dazed, as if he does not know where he is. Ravager is behind the man LAST RESORT! He’s beaten Simply Beautiful with this move
before, if he gets it — Simply Beautiful suddenly fighting it for all he’s worth! Ravager can’t get the fingers locked behind SB’s head, and SB SUDDENLY
HAS THE ARM! THE RIGHT ARM! FUJIWARA ARMBAR AGAIN, PAINKILLER! But they’re not in the center of the ring, Ravager can get his foot on the bottom rope quickly.
SB breaks the hold, on his knees and holding his head, bowed over. Ravager is on his belly holding his arm, eyes closed tightly in pain. Kiebiech starts
his count, but SB reaches over to pin Ravager, holding Ravager’s right arm down! One, two, Ravager again gets his foot on the ropes. SB pulls it off and
reaches over, still holding the right arm, ONE, TWO, TH, Ravager squeaks the left shoulder up. SB holding onto the arm gets to his feet, pulling Ravager
up. Armtwist… heel hook kick! Nice combination by Simply Beautiful puts Ravager down, and suddenly he looks at the top rope! Ravager is in prone position
as Simply Beautiful springs to the bottom, the top, and off for the BEST!




BILL HEWSON: Ravager had that move well-scouted! HE ROLLS HIM UP! ONE! TWO! SB kicks out! Unbelievable! And wait a minute, Ravager with a german suplex!
Bridged! ONE! TWO! Simply Beautiful will not stay down for three!

JACK JONES: Ravager’s given SB some of his best shots and can’t keep him down. Now he’s doing it with one wing!

And once again he’s going up top! Ravager already hit the diving headbutt once this match, is he going for it again? We’ll never know, because Simply Beautiful
is up and follows Ravager to the top rope. He fires at Ravager, who fires back with left hand shots, not as effective as the right hand shots. They’re
battling it out on the top rope… who will get the maneuver? Ravager shoves SB off the top rope and flies, only to eat canvas. SB with a big Impact DDT,
and then he springs up to the top rope, facing the crowd. He doesn’t even look back, just FLIES, turning in mid-air to crash on Ravager with the NEW! YORK!

And it connects, SB up like a shot holding his midsection from the impact. Despite the pain he hooks a leg for ONE, TWO, THREEEEEEEEEE…

Foot on the rope.


JACK JONES: Ravager is lucky this isn’t a Pure Honor match, he’d be long out of rope breaks! He’s been saved by the ropes time and time again in this match!
Hewson, I didn’t think I’d be saying it, but Simply Beautiful is simply Dominating the champion!

BILL HEWSON: Simply Beautiful a split-second away from finally pinning Ravager, finally becoming the NAPW Champion after all this time! Ravager reaching
out to the ropes on pure instinct, just damn fortunate he was close enough to do it — but Simply Beautiful is going back up to the top rope!

JACK JONES: This is how he beat THE BEAST, Hewson!

BILL HEWSON: It was by three New York Nightmares that Simply Beautiful did it, and the same strategy will likely work on Ravager — NOBODY HOME! SB lands

The crowd is chanting “That was Awesome, clap clap clapclapclap.” Each man is laid out on the canvas, chests heaving up and down, they are spent. Kiebiech
gives the title belt to Ravager, who cradles it on his chest with his good arm. Simply Beautiful is on his back in the middle of the ring, hands to his
face, wearing a look of utter dismay.

BILL HEWSON: That was one hell of a match-up, and Ravager… Simply Beautiful may have had the best chance of taking the NAPW title belt from Ravager of
any of the challengers he has faced, perhaps even Chris Casino.

JACK JONES: Simply Beautiful dominated the match-up, there’s no question about it, Hewson. Ravager was fighting from behind from almost minute one, and
he’s rarely in that position. But that’s the mark of a champion… they find a way to win.

BILL HEWSON: A tremendous, world-class effort from Simply Beautiful but tonight is not his night…

Ravager is half-up, using the ropes, clearly just exhausted. His chest is disgustingly red from the chopfest SB unleashed on him. SB is up, hands on hips.
Ravager… extends the hand.

SB looks at it, lips pursed.

BILL HEWSON: Oh no. Not now.

JACK JONES: Well hey, it’s The Crimes come to applaud this tremendous match-up!

BILL HEWSON: Somehow I don’t think they’re here to watch… oh come on now! These two men just — David Banks and Lloyd Rees and Static are assaulting
two exhausted competitors! Rex Caliber nowhere to be seen, but you know this is on his card! The NAPW owner hates Ravager and now he’s after SB for spurning
his offer!

Ravager and SB have little left as the teams beat them up. Banks holds SB’s arms behind his back for LDK to slap him across the face, reminding him of their
existing hatred. “It don’t matter that it weren’t you, b’ye, ye shoulda been smart’er!” Static and Ravager — STATIC AND RAVAGER — Oh no! Funcrusher
by Static on Ravager! Rees with his DDT from the Green on SB, and now … what’s this? Oh no, come off it! The NAPW champion is defenseless! He throws
a punch-drunk swing, ducked easily by a laughing Static. LDK boots Ravager in the gut… and sets him up for a piledriver! David Banks going to the top
rope, not a spike piledriver —

BRIAN BRUNO storms the ring! What the hell? Brian Bruno gets boos, but then cheers, then boos, then cheers, but he’s taking out The Crimes! Bruno was beaten
up by The Crimes last week, but he’s still an evil son of a bitch — Static rushes with screwdriver in hand LARIAT! Bruno flips him inside out with a
lariat! Wait a minute, Simply Beautiful is up! Simply Beautiful has LDK, Bruno has Banks, and the NAPW Tag Team Champions get tossed out of opposite sides
of the ring! Bruno smirks at SB, these two will meet May 29th —



BRUNO GOES OVER THE TOP ROPE TO THE FLOOR! SB stares down at him in disgust, he wants NOTHING to do with Brian Bruno! Instead, SB goes up to pull Ravager
up by the hand. The Crimes are up the curtain, LDK cursing in rapid Newfese as Banks and Static try to “hold him back.” Brian Bruno is picking himself
up on the concrete as Ravager and SB lock eyes. SB suddenly has the microphone in hand…

SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL: You know what, I told Rex I wasn’t getting involved, but then you three jackasses had to come in here and trash the moment! Well I ain’t
anybody’s cronie, I ain’t anybody’s thug, I’m my own damn man! Now I don’t need your evil ass to watch my back, Brian Bruno, you can have your own goddamn
problems with The Crimes…

But it’s pretty damn apparent here that a guy’s going to need somebody to watch his back! Well, if you know my history (chuckles bitterly), I ain’t had
much luck with partners lately! But I know somebody who’s as (BLEEP)ed as I am in the numbers game, and that man is standing right here in this ring with
me! Ravager… we’ve had our battles and our differences! We’ve had our issues! And I will BEAT you for that NAPW title when I get another shot at it,
but you are one helluva damn champion and you have my RESPECT — so I have an idea! Next week there’s a little match called TAGSTRAVAGANZA II… tag titles
on the line, a dozen teams already in it, but way I hear it there’s one last open spot…

The crowd is buzzing in anticipation, all the wrestlers hanging on SB’s every word. Ravager cocks his head, wondering where it is going.

SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL: And since I’d love nothing more to kick the living hell out of Lloyd Rees and David Banks AGAIN, I’m throwing my name into Tagstravaganza
so I can take the NAPW TAG TEAM TITLES the hell off of the Crimes! ALL I NEED…


SB throws the mic down and sticks out his hand to Ravager, shouting. “PARTNERS?” It’s Ravager’s turn to look at the hand, hesitating. He looks out to The

The barest of smirks.




JACK JONES: The Crimes are freaking out! Lloyd Rees is losing his mind! This is a travesty!

BILL HEWSON: Brian Bruno tried to take out The Crimes for his own reasons, but he gets NO trust and nor should he! Ravager was able to defeat Simply Beautiful,
but now next week they will be PARTNERS in Tagstravangaza! This is an unbelievable turn of events! It has been a memorable night in the histories of both
NAPW and REBEL Pro Wrestling! For Jack Jones, this is Bill Hewson saying good night!

The Crimes at the curtain, furious. Brian Bruno leaning against the guard rail, a sick expression on his face. Ravager and SB leaning over the top ropes,
letting The Crimes know they’re coming.

And hell is coming with them.

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

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

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

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

A couple of boos from the crowd.

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

Linzi Martin: So sad.

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

Larry Gordon: That sounded a little off.

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

Linzi Martin: What…

Stunned silence from the crowd.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Larry Gordon: Even I think that’s twisted.

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

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

Marv: Hi Mark. I

McNasty: Who are you?

Marv: I’m

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

Marv: Well, yes, I

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

McNasty shoves past Humperdink, leaving Marv looking bewildered.

The Roof is on Fire

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

Maya: Why would anyone want this job?

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

Maya: Hey…

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

Adrian Kalis: Settling in well, Maya?

Maya: Yeah I guess… Fuck is this contraption?

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

Maya scoffs.

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

Adrian Kalis: And?

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

Adrian coughs, clears his throat and leans forward.

Adrian Kalis: Who?!

Maya shrugs.

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

Adrian Kalis: Let me guess.

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

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

Adrian we imagine, rolls his eyes.

Maya: Done checking up on me?

Adrian leans back, sighing heavily.

Adrian Kalis: Listen…

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

Adrian puts a clenched fist forward from where he is.

Adrian Kalis: Maya. Get out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya: Warning? For what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adrian Kalis: No, sweet sister.

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

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

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

Maya: My entire family is fucking insane.

And with that, we fade to ringside…

Singles Match

Jaice Wilds versus Mark McNasty

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

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




Winner: Mark McNasty

Fathers of Undisputed

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

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

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

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

A pause is taken for Cesar to briefly smile.

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

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

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

Deicide spits at the canvas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Confidence

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

“You’re an asshole.” says Allen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So….Mexico, huh?”


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And OUR partner.” says Johnny.

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, dude.” says Johnny.

“What?” says Allen, regaining his composure.

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

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

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

“See you in the ring.”

Six Man Tag Team Match

Wrestling’s Undisputed versus The KKK and Allen Chaney

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Let That Motherfucker Burn

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

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

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

Linzi Martin: And then, there was one.

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

Linzi Martin: Give her a chance, Larry.

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

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

Larry Gordon: She is doomed.

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

Larry Gordon: You are naïve, Linzi.

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

Maya: Thank you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya: Who? Cody Bogard?

Maya smirks, but no one else is laughing.

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

Maya: Uhhh… No?

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

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

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

Adrian Kalis: The Phoenix.

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

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

Maya: God damn it Adrian!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adrian forces a smile as he stomps, and salutes.

Adrian Kalis: All Hail The Phoenix.

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

See you later.

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

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

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

REBEL Pro. Fuck Yeah.

The eWrestling Toplist

Aggression 1-14-2013

Let’s Just Roll With It I Guess

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

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

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

Marvin: Jeremy! What’re you doing here?

Gold jumps up, wiping his brow nervously.

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

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

Gold sighs heavily.

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

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

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

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

School of Hard Knocks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bubba stares at Macca for a moment before…

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

Macca: “Unfunny bitch!”

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

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

Bubba then shifts a glance to his partner in crime.

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

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

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

Haha! Welcome back Deicide, you fuck!

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


Bubba J speaks again rubbing at someting in his pocket.

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

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

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

He looks at Macca.

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

He winks at Jenny.

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

He nudges Macca.

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

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

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

He checks his watch.

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

He smiles.

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

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

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

He clears his throat.

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

Bubba J lights up.

“Think we done?”

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

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

Bubba J nods, taking a drag.

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

He taps the ashes.

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

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

Tag Team Match

The Toughest Bastards versus The Uproars

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

Cheers that, cunts.

Winners: The Toughest Bastards in 9:28

A Talented Segment

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

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

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

Cockiness and confidence fills the talented air.

Justin Case speaks.

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


Case cups his Aggression Title.

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

Boyle and Wiz let off a smooth sly smirk.

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

Case pauses for effect.

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

“TCO” smiles.

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

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

The video feed turns to static and then…


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

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

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

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

Larry Gordon: “Can’t remember.”

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

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

Mmmkay I

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

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

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

Jenny Jersey: “Were they bad?”

After a sharp exhale,

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

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

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

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

Jenny Jersey: “Ew.”

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

Jake Norton: “Excuse me?”

Thinking on her feet, Jersey blurts out:

Jenny Jersey: “Alex Wilkie walked by.”

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

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

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

A shrug goes with,

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

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

Jake Norton: “This formula is done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

For some reason, Norton appears frustrated.

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

Solid pop occurs.

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

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

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

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

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

Sitting down crisscross, Norton mimics an overdone stance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake Norton: “You can hate me now.”

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

Larry Gordon: “Why are they booing?”

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

Non-Title Match

Jake Norton versus Justin Case

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




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

Winner: Jake Norton in 12:41

One More Time

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

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

“And?” asks Spyke.

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

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

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

“It’s a fair question.” says Spyke.

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

“So…Sean Robinson. When?”

“Next Pay-Per-View.”

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

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

“…Shit, dude.”

“No more joking around.”


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Real Shiney

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


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

“Hellooooooo Rebel Pro!”

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

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

She takes a deeeeep breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then with a sn

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

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

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

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

Number One Contender’s Trophy Defense

Anna Mathews versus Allen Chaney©

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



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




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




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





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


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

And now, to the INTERNETZ!

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

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

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

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

Kalistic Death Match for the Presidency of REBEL Pro

Simon Kalis versus Adrian Kalis©

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jenny Jersey: SIMON KALIS!!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Larry Gordon: This is REBEL Pro.

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

Jenny Jersey: Annnnd his opponent!

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

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

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

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

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

Linzi Martin: Whose side are they all on?

Larry Gordon: Both.

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

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

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

Larry Gordon: Dear lord.

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


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


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



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

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

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

Linzi Martin: I hope he has a cup on.

Larry Gordon: Will that really protect his family jewels?

Linzi Martin: No clue.

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

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

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

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

Linzi Martin: No thanks.

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

Linzi Martin: Holy fucking shit.

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

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


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

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

Linzi Martin: I guess but-

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

Jenny Jersey: This match will…

Simon yells out to her.

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

The crowd cheers and…


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

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

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

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

Linzi Martin: My god that is disgusting.

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

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

Linzi Martin: I think I smell Adrian cooking.

Larry Gordon: This is disgusting.

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


Simon grabs a microphone at ringside.


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

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

Simon Kalis: Get up, boy.

There is no movement from Adrian.

Simon Kalis: Fuck you, get up Adrian.

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

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

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

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

Adrian twitches, but his eyes remain closed.

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

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

Simon Kalis: So.

Simon drops his cigarette into the coals.

Simon Kalis: Let’s finish it.

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

Simon Kalis: Finish him for me.

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

Linzi Martin: JESUS!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Larry Gordon: My God he is.




Linzi Martin: ….

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

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

Linzi Martin: Sweet fuck no don’t kid.


Larry Gordon: OH MY GOD!

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





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

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

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

REBEL Pro logo

Merry Time Massacre 2012

Fine Wine Presents…

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

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

“Part One: Highway To The Danger Zone”

Revvin’ up your engine
Listen to her howlin’ roar

We see a foot step onto a pedal.

Metal under tension
Beggin’ you to touch and go

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

Highway to the danger zone
Ride into the danger zone

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

Headin’ into twilight
Spreadin’ out her wings tonight

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

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

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

McNasty: WILKIE!

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

Wilkie: Yes Mark?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wilkie: Alright. Sounds good.

Wilkie takes another bite of chicken.

Wilkie: I even know what song to use.

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

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

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

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

“To Be Continued.”

The Comeback

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

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

He looks around.

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

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

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

Loomis looks into the camera.

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

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

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

Guys, sorry about your luck.

See you in the ring.

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

Tag Team Match

The Uproars versus Might & Magic

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

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

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

Peanut Butter and Nachos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jolly Time Singles Match

Jaice Wilds versus Mike Majere

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part Two

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

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

“Part Two: Training Montage”

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

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

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

Try to believe,

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

Though the going gets rough

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

That you gotta hang tough to make it

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

History repeats itself
Try and you’ll succeed

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

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

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

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

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

You’re the Best!

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

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

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

“To Be Continued.”

Santa’s Grotto Grudge Match

Jake Norton versus “Bad Man” Reece Jackson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake Norton: “I’m going in!”

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

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

Bad Man’s voice booms all godlike.

Jake Norton: “Show yourself, bad man!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Macca: “Merry Christmas, Baddy!”

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

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

Bad Santa then spits on Jake Norton!

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

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

Macca: “Cheers!”

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part Three

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

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

“Part Three: Strategy is the Key”

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

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

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

McNasty laughs.

McNasty: I think I lost fifteen pounds.

Wilkie burps.

Wilkie: I think I put on thirty.

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

McNasty leans in.

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

Wilkie begins laughing.

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

McNasty smirks.

McNasty: I thought so. ‘Scuse me,

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

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

Wilkie: What was that Mark?

McNasty pops back up.

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

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

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

Wilkie: Yeah,

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

Wilkie stands up.

Wilkie: Yeah!

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

Wilkie: YEAH!

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

Wilkie slams his hands on the table.

Wilkie: Hell yeah we are!

McNasty: Are you ready for this?

Wilkie: YEAH!


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

The white writing returns.

“To Be Concluded…Now.”

Handicap Match for the Number One Contenders Trophy

Fine Wine versus Allen Chaney

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bubba J: “Hey Allen.”

Chaney turns around to see Bubba J.

Bubba J: “I got a joke for ya.”

Chaney: “Is it about how you-”

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

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

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

Bubba J: “Macca!”

Macca: “What?”

Bubba J: “You spat on him!”

Macca: “I really hate this cunt!”

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

Bubba J: “Shit! We gotta fly!”

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

The KKK Is in Canada!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doo I hav to?”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, John-boy?”


“Kan yoo ride a horse?”

Fake Empire V

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deicide: “We layer rather thickly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cesar sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The recording ends there.

REBEL Pro World/Disputed Tag Team Championship Unification TLC Match

The KKK© versus Wrestling’s Undisputed©

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deicide: “What the hell?”

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

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

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

Salazar releases the steel chair from his grip.

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Macca: “Cheers that, Cunts!”

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

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

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

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

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

Paul does not respond.

Macca: “Silent treatment, eh?”

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

Macca: “Cheers, Alba.”

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

The Chosen One

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

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

Susan Boyle lets out a high pitched heckle.

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

Case’s eyes narrow.

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

……It will soon be mine!

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

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

Susan Boyle lets off a sly evil grin.

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

Case pauses to let off a cocky glow.

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

The Wiz hoists up the Straight Jacket yet again.

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

Case’s eyes deepen with coldness.

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

Susan Boyle continues laughing.

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

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

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

……tick tick BOOM!

The group share an evil laugh.

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

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

REBEL Pro Aggression Championship Match

Justin Case versus Anna Mathews©

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This Is Wrestling

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s wrestling.”

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

This is Wrestling

Another Sacrifice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

REBEL Pro World Heavyweight Championship: HELL IN A CELL Match

Sean Robinson versus Rob “The Phoenix” Robinson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Larry Gordon: Why are they chanting that?

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

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

A large section of the crowd: P Dub A! P Dub A! P Dub A!

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

The Phoenix: Take your time.

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

The Phoenix: Take your time.



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

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

The Phoenix: Well, well, well.

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

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to be a fucking cunt.

The Phoenix: This is wrestling.

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

Sean Robinson: “THIS. IS. WRESTLING!”

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


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

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



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

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

Larry Gordon: LOOK!

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


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

Larry Gordon: Look at the ramp!

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

Larry Gordon: It’s the numbers game.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

“Tempus frangit, motherfuckaz!”

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

“Yoor late!”

“Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Recking stuff. Wanna come?”


Headtilt. “Doo wii honestlee kneed a reason?”

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


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

Aggression 12-10-2012

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Massacre

“Bad, Bad Man” by John Cena is the first loud sound to overcome ringside, and that could only mean one thing: UX Legend Reece Jackson. But he’s not wearing his pure white tights as usual. Instead, the old-school wrestler is dressed as Santa Claus! With a very long roll of parchment in hand, Bad Santa (aptly named by a flash pop-up window viewers at home only see), walks to the ring whilst waving at all the delighted men, women and children. Up the steel steps Bad (Man) Santa wobbles, and on the apron Bad Santa performs his trademark funky dance, which garners louder cheers. Some techie fetches a microphone for Bad Santa, but it’s when he receives it do UX fans take the throwback to the good old days (which were only seven months ago).

Bad Santa Reece Jackson: “HEY HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Merry Massacre, all you boys and skanks!!”

That isn’t for another week, bad man..

Bad Santa Reece Jackson: “Bad Santa been sitting at home watching this horeshit of a promotion while Mrs. Claus licks Bad Santa’s sack, do ya feel?”

Bad Santa winks at a child in the first row, whose mother is shocked, judging by her agape mouth and hands that quickly cover her boy’s ears.

Bad Santa: “When all is said and done, only one faggot managed to not be shittier than missing your mates wedding to go see Foo Fighters live, Bad Santa’s son, Macca! He broke records! He realized the dream his baddy couldn’t! Bad Man so damn proud to call him son.”

Bad Santa wipes a tear from his eye.

Bad Santa: “But Marvin Wood? Two words: Tommy Idol! Simon Kalis? Maybe you’ll get a wig in your stocking, faggot. Virgil Keenan? Climb in a steel cage with Bad Man, asshole! Bad Man will FACK you humble!”

Uhm, two of those people are gone, and what did Simon ever do to you?

Bad Santa: “Worst of all, that retarded-eyed, little SHIT who would cling to Bad Man’s ten inch thick knob, Jake Norton, tried to fuck Macca’s hot streak worse than Bad Man’s alleged rape on Fluffy the cat!!”

Several “Fluffy” chants break out in mockish tone, but Bad Santa thinks they’re supportive.

Bad Santa: “–Bad Man did not have sexual relations with that feline. Ok, maybe Bad Man 69′d it but it was consensual. Ask Larry Fields how wide Bad Man ripped Willie William’s juicy sweet pussy cat! By the way, while you’re at it, ask Larry how Sabu is coz Bad Man meant to visit him in the hospital but traffic has been FACKing horrible lately, so Bad Man sold the children to some local rapist named Bob.”

… Really, Bad Santa? Insinuating you traffic children and helped a child molester get off is smart?? Where do we draw the line?!

Bad Santa: “Speaking of Rapist Bob, Bad Santa should have dropped your too-retarded-to-ride-a-bicycle, faggot-asshole off at his flat, too, Jakey! BAD SANTA FACKING HATE how you think you can be a tough guy without da bad guy’s permission!”

Bad Santa does the Scott Hall pose with his hands, showing off his nonexistent abs.

Bad Santa: “You can’t drop the pipe bombs like Bad Man. You can’t wrestle clinics! Can’t even ride a FACKING BICYCLE yet you FACKing try to be a World Champion?! You won’t win the big one, Jakey! Not if Bad Man got a say!!”

A handful of seconds go by with Bad Man continuing his vulgar output, but John Williams’ “E.T.” cuts him off, to fans’ delight! Out in ring attire, ready to fight here and now, if need be; Norton also has a microphone!

Jake Norton: “Jesus, Reece. What the hell do you want?”

Rather serious upon Norton’s arrival, Bad Santa sternly points to Norton with a scowl.

Bad Santa: “You, punk ass motherfaggot!”

Pointing at himself now, Norton smiles goofily.

Jake Norton: “Now?”

Bad Santa: “FACK No! Bad Man won’t wrestle for these faggots for free! At Merry Time Massacre, in Santa’s Grotto, WE WRESTLE!!”

Confused by the stipulation, Norton wonders aloud, “the heck is that?”

Bad Santa: “Time.. to die!”

Reece Jackson points to the rafters in Sabu fashion, and when the camera looks up, Christy Greene is at the top, with a rope in her hand!! She releases her hold on the rope, then back down at the entrance-way, a pile of shit comes falling down onto Jake Norton!! Fans MARK as Norton slips each time he tries to stand! We fade to commercial on audio of Jake Norton cursing worse than Bad Man has in this segment!

Vintage C-Luke

So these guys in the back drinkin, eatin, an sittin behind whatever desk pad and pen their sittin behind. Decide to put me in my debut match against the prodigy child of Goldust and Marlena. Well my message to that jolly gold giant is: I’m sorry you gotta be the first victim in C-Luke the light knights long raise an run to the top. But with all due respect and no respect at the same time the N.B.W.F starts its foundation on you glodipops.

Welcome to REBEL Pro Match!

C-Luke versus Jeremy Gold

As C-Luke and Jeremy Gold stand in the ring, Gold sighs heavily and begins to pray that this battle be done with quickly. However Jenny Jersey quickly gets back on the microphone and announces that someone else has been added to this match and suddenly, “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons hits and the marks in the crowd immediately go nuts.

Welcome to REBEL Pro Match!

C-Luke versus Jeremy Gold versus Mike Majere

Mike Majere comes out to the ring and immediately slides in, with both Gold and Luke rushing him to stomp him out as the bell sounds. Majere rolls away and Gold accidentally slaps C-Luke, and immediately drops to his knees and begins to cry and apologize for his own insolence. Majere takes the distraction as an opportunity and goes up behind C-Luke but C turns around only to be met with an enziguri for his trouble. He hits the canvas hard and then Majere grabs Gold and pulls him to his feet, and unleashes a number of kicks striking Gold over his thighs and ribs before putting him down with a roundhouse kick. C-Luke goes for a roll up pin on Majere but doesn’t even get a 1 count as Majere immediately rolls out of it. Both men up and C-Luke goes for a clothesline and gets whipped into the corner for his trouble. Majere charges and spears him, crushing C-Luke in the corner. Jeremy Gold, crying and screaming, charges at Mike Majere. Majere grabs him and whips him into the ropes and as Gold comes back he hits Beau Idéale!!! He covers! 1! 2!! 3!!!

Winner: Mike Majere in 3:25

Earlier This Week

We fade in on the office of Simon Kalis, current defending majority owner of REBEL Pro. A knock is heard at the door… something Kalis isn’t exactly used to. Cause it’s a sign of respect, and who the fuck has any respect left for Simon?

Simon Kalis: Door’s open.

In walks REBEL’s most electrifying star to date, the ever insane Jaice Wilds. Jaice closes the door behind him as he walks in, Kalis with a slight grin.

Simon Kalis: Wilds, my boy! Good to see you back from Mexico! How was your stint down there?

Jaice nods, extending a hand to his employer. Kalis reaches out, the two shaking as Jaice replies.

Jaice Wilds: You were right, Mr. Kalis. The talent down there is out of this world. I think I’ve added a whole new edge to my already crazy style.

Simon Kalis: Is that possible?

Jaice Wilds: I asked myself that a hundred times. And the answer is- surprisingly- yes.

Simon shakes his head, muffling a laugh. He motions for Wilds to take a seat, sitting on his own side of the desk as he takes a moment.

Simon Kalis: So, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you in my office again?

Jaice raises a brow, a cocky smile spreading as he speaks.

Jaice Wilds: If you don’t know the answer to that already, I’m not sure you’re quite the genius I thought you were.

Simon gives Jaice a ‘watch-it-boy’ look, shaking his head. He goes into a desk drawer, pulling out a sheet of paper.

Simon Kalis: Well, Jaicey-boy, I just might have something for you. Let’s see… how about we test your ring rust in a little return match against…

Jaice Wilds: Anna Mathews? Bubba J? Emily Corlen. Matt Stone? Is he even on the roster anymore? How about one of the UX guys? Or maybe even…

Simon Kalis: … Bobby Lee.

Jaice pauses, raising a brow. He shakes his head, looking for a hint of sarcasm in his boss’ face.

Jaice Wilds: You… you’re joking, right?

Simon Kalis: What’s wrong with Bobby?

Jaice Wilds: Nothing… I mean… Okay, he’s got heart, and I respect that he comes in day in and day out purely for the love of the game, but…

Simon Kalis: The perpetual losing thing?

Jaice Wilds: The perpetual losing thing!

Simon shakes his head, jotting something on the paper. He stuffs it back in his desk drawer, looking to Wilds.

Simon Kalis: I like you, Jaice. You’re potentially one of my top guys.

Simon smiles.

Simon Kalis: But I can’t just rearrange everything for the simple fact that you want to hit the roster again. You and Bobby Lee. Take it or leave it.

Jaice takes a deep breath, thinking it over. Simon awaits, seeming to already know the response coming his way. Jaice shakes his head, a sigh.

Jaice Wilds: Well, I guess it’s better than sitting on the sidelines. Alright, I’ll face Bobby. Let’s hope he’s learned a few tricks while I’ve been away.

Jaice stands, nodding to Simon. Kalis nods back, Jaice turning towards the door. He pulls it open, walking out. Simon shakes his head.

Simon Kalis: Now, where was I?

Simon turns the TV back on in his office and resumes playing the new Dragonborn DLC for Skyrim as we fade.

Jaice Who?

“Jaice Wilds”

Bobby Lee is in the middle of his delapidated, dirty, filthy, and obviously belonging to a drug addict living room. Bobby Lee is sitting in a pair of torn bluejeans, no shirt, and with a hippy style bandana tied around his head.

“Jaice Wilds…”

He seems to be in some sort of meditative state, but white stuff covers his face from below his nose down.

“I am going to defeat you because you are worthless.”

Calmness from the former Curtain Jerker Champion.

“When you left no one missed you, no one even cared, they were like Jaice Who?”

A smirk across his features.

“I know that I am a laughing stock in this company, I have embraced that role. I know that I am not much of a fighter, I am not much of a wrestler, but at the same time I know myself to be a laughing stock.”

He opens his eyes, staring into the camera.

“While all of that is true, I remained here, I went in week in and week out. I gave Bubba J a match for the ages! People know my name, regardless of if I am here, if I am not, if I am booked, or if I am not. You on the other hand… it was… Jaice Who?”


Welcome (back) To REBEL Pro Match!

Jaice Wilds versus Bobby Lee

In what was one of the craziest matches we’ve seen in a long time EVER Jaice Wilds displayed incredibly acrobatic skills with his full frontal aerial assault on Bobby Lee. While Bobby Lee did manage to get in some offense, Jaice Wilds ended that with Aerial Ace and his triumphant return was complete with a victory. The crowd cheered the former Aggression Champion, and everyone was happy. Except maybe Bobby Lee.

Winner: Jaice Wilds in 15:42

Bar Sluts Rock!

A red truck, more specifically a Z-71, sits in the parking lot of some bar in some city. Smoke streams out of the window as the man, more specifically Bubba J, sits in the truck waiting on his tag team partner to come back out.

~Scene switch~

Macca is in the bar, stepping up to the counter, where the bartender steps up as well, shock on her face.

BT: “You are Macca!”

Macca turns around, as though he’s looking for Macca himself, he quickly turns back.

Macca: “Where?!”

Again he spins around, looking for Macca.

BT: “You are!”

She’s star struck.

Macca: “Oh yeah, I forget…”

He points to his temple.

Macca: “You know, all the chair shots and all.”

The woman laughs.

BT: “What can I get for you?”

Macca leans on the bar.

Macca: “A date with you?”

The woman is blushing now, when the door opens up and a smoking Bubba J steps into the bar.

Bubba J: “What the hell man?”

He walks up to the woman, he eyes her breasts.

Bubba J: “Nice tits.”

The woman is in shock, but manages to blush even more.

Bubba J: “They real?”

The woman nods, Macca laughs, Bubba J stares.

BT: “You are Bubba J!”

Bubba J lifts his underwear band out of his pants, looking down at it then nods.

Bubba J: “Yup, last time I checked… and that was recently.”

They all laugh, though the woman(BT) is doing it nervously.

BT: “Whaa…(throat clearing) What can I get you gentlemen?”

Macca: “A beer would be nice.”

Bubba J: “A shot of Jack Old Number 7, with a beer chaser.”

Macca: “Sounds better.”

Bubba J: “Amberbock or Coors if ya got it.”

Macca: “Piss…”

Bubba J: “I can give you some piss, if you’d rather drink that.”

They both laugh again, they seem to be getting along very well. The woman fixes their drinks before coming back and setting them down.

Bubba J: “So, what do you think about our match this week in the tag fest shit Simon’s got booked?”

Both men down their shots in an instant before following it up with a mouthful of their beer chaser.

Macca: “Should be a laugh if nothing else. We’re up against Golden Inferno yeah? Sounds like someone with a urinary tract infection is describing taking a piss.”

A chuckle comes from Bubba as he signals for another two shots while taking another drink from the beer in front of him.

Bubba J: “It’s an opportunity though Mac.”

A raised eyebrow from Macca is Bubba’s only reply.

Bubba J: “Almost the whole tag division will pretty much be on display this week. It’s our chance to show them what we fucking plan to do to this division. I say we go out there and really step up our game. We can put on such a clinic that Wrestling’s Undisputed vs. Might & Magic will look like amateurs taking the piss. We can make it so that compared to us Fine Wine should be called goon bag and The Uproars we will make look like such a shambles that people will doubt if they should even be a tag team. And Golden Inferno?”

The bartender makes her way back to the two men with the new shots. She places them down on the bar but they don’t sit there long as Bubba and Macca immediately slam them down.

Bubba J: “I think we make it so they just plain can’t walk.”

Macca: “Let these cunts know that we are The Toughest Bastards in REBEL? I’ll drink to that.”

The men share a nod before taking another chug of the chaser. Another round of shots is also ordered.

Macca: “So how do we plan on doing this anyway. You probably know more about these sacks of crap than I do. Any suggestions?”

Bubba J slides onto the bar stool, reaching for an ashtray and lighting up; he’s sitting there thinking.

Bubba J: “Well, Jeremy is in two matches that night, both of which he’ll lose.”

Macca leans forward on the bar.

Bubba J: “Well, he’ll lose the match in which he faces us anyways. He’ll be distracted by trying to run away from pain, looking for who knows what shit, and all around being a petrified cunt.”

Bubba J with a nod towards Macca, for him using the word “cunt”.

Bubba J: “I’m not saying that he’s definitely going to be a push over or a definite win, nor even an easy win; because look at what happened with me and Bobby Lee.”

Macca laughs, swallowing some beer as Bubba J does the same, chasing that with a drag of the cigarette(Marlboro Menthol Light).

Bubba J: “Not damn funny.”

J stares at him, a grin around the cigarette.

Bubba J: “But I do know that this pathetic replica of the real Inferno… is nothing but like an after-market part for a vehicle. It fills the spot, but pales in comparison to the real thing.”

He takes a drag.

J: “He likes to set things on fire, perhaps him and Gold set each other’s brushes aflame every night I don’t know, but I know he’s nothing to worry about. I’ve fought the real Inferno on a few occasions and after watching this guy… I’m more fearful of facing Bobby Lee without his steroid induced courage and strength.”

Another smirk from Bubba J.

J: “But what I want to know is how tough do we get? Do we show all that we have in one match? Do we leave a little bit in our back pocket? Or do we go out and wow them with it all Monday night?”

A shrug from Bubba J.

J: “They know that we are the Toughest Bastards, they know it isn’t just a name, they know it is a life style… and for those that don’t know…, after they are picking dentures out at a dentist’s office… they’ll know.”

Bubba J waits, thinking to himself as another order of shots arrive, then he nods.

Bubba J: “And like I love to say… There. Ain’t. Nothing. They. Can. Do. About. It.”

They throw the shots back, chugging down the last of the beer.

Bubba J: “Another?”

Macca: “Never knocked back a drink before, don’t plan to start now.”

Bubba gives a nod in return and another shot is placed in front of them. This shot gets replaced by another, then another and yet another. Finally after another dozen shots, Macca decides (for possibly the first time n his life) to be the voice of reason.

Macca: “Alright J, as cozy as this place is I think we should head off. Don’t want to turn up late for the show.

Bubba Lets out a grunt but nods his head to show that he agrees. Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieves his wallet before pulling out a handful of notes and slapping them down on the counter. As both men stand to begin to make their way back out they are stopped once more by the bartender.

BT: “Excuse me gentlemen. I was just-”

Bubba lets loose with a loud growl.

Bubba J: “For fucks sake woman. Hurry up and get us a napkin and you can have your fucking autograph. Just make it quick, we need to be out of here soon.”

The bartender is momentarily stunned before she regains her composure and tries to speak again.

BT: Actually I was going -”

But is cut off again.

Macca: “A bit of respect for the lady Bubba. Fucking hell. Can’t you see the slut is keen on my number? Now have you got a pen love? Let’s see if I can help you out in making your future a good one.”

Macca gives the bartender a grin that looks like it should belong on a sexual predator. The bartender blushes and for a moment looks like she is considering the offer before she remembers that she is supposed to be doing her job.

BT: “I actually was going to ask which one of you is the DD.”

Bubba J: “I think they’re sitting on your chest love.”

High five!

BT: “No, I meant the designated driver.”

Macca/Bubba J: “Oh, him.”

Both men point to the other before they notice what they are doing.

Macca/Bubba J: “Fuck.”

BT: “I’m sorry gentlemen, but I am going to have to ask for your keys.”

Macca lets loose with a string of expletives as Bubba just gives an annoyed nod before reaching into a pocket to grab his keys.

BT: “Sorry guys, just doing my job.”

Bubba gives a nod and pulls his hand out of his pocket -

Bubba J: “No worries love. Here you are.”

- and flips her the bird.

Bubba J: “Fucking bail!”

And with that Bubba legs it out the front entrance of the bar. Macca takes a second to realise what is happening before following in J’s example, but not before tripping over a barstool on his way out. The bartender can only let out a sigh as the sound of a Z-71, leaving the majority of the rubber from its tires in the bar parking lot, speeds off to freedom.

Poor Gold Is Double Booked Match

The Toughest Bastards versus Golden Inferno

Be serious, when Simon Kalis announced this booking, what did you expect the outcome to be? Would it be Jeremy Gold slap and scratch his way to victory? He definitely tried. Yet, Bubba harshly served his bronze-ass haymaker punches into a Thesz press, followed by even more mindboggling punches! As that happened, the Cuntster catapulted Inferno over the top rope, and then slung himself to the outside for an angled swan dive! Effectively eliminating Inferno permanently by flapjack dropping him atop nearby steel steps, Macca then rolled back into the ring to see Bubba J suplex powerslam Jeremy.

Ascending the top turnbuckle, Macca flies forward, with Bubba assisting by throwing Macca off the turnbuckle, thus increasing Macca’s range, height and impact with the body splash onto Jeremy Gold! Without complaint, that finish is enough to extinguish Golden Inferno and give the Toughest Bastards their first formal tag victory! Fans rejoice (but not in the lame Keenan sense), “Kick It In The Sticks” cues and it’s only natural for the two redneck cunts to throw a beer bash at ringside along with the thousands in attendance.

Filmed Earlier…

We’re in a mall. Kids and their parents are looking eager, and frustrated, as they wait for the chance to sit in Ol’ Saint Nick’s lap. However, as we pan down the line towards Santa, we see a sign that says “Thirty minute wait.” The surprise it, it’s right next to him. Santa doesn’t look very cheerful though, as sitting on his lap, each to a leg, are Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie; Fine Wine. Odds are, if things don’t speed up, Wilkie’s ass will cost him that leg.

Santa: Boys, I still don’t get what you want.

McNasty: It’s simple Santa. We want our valuable time. Because last week, we beat The Uproars.

Santa: The who?

Wilkie: This isn’t musical Jepordy Santa.

McNasty: So like I said, we beat them, but now we have to fight them again, AND Allen Chaney.

Wilkie: So we want them to get the point that they are wasting their time, and ours!

Santa simply tries to blink a few times to grasp what’s going on.

Santa: Boys, if I promise to do what you’re asking, will you move along so the little tykes can get a little cheer in their day?

McNasty and Wilkie smile.

McNasty: Of course!


Santa and McNasty look at Wilkie with surprise.

Wilkie:…I want a ton of Twinkies before they disappear forever.

Santa: Um…done.

Wilkie: YIP-PIE!

Wilkie jumps off Santa’s knee, and jumps in the air, kicking his heels; before running off-screen. McNasty simply face palms and slips Santa a fifty for his time before walking off.

Also filmed earlier:

We go backstage to find McNasty and Wilkie standing infront of a Rebel banner. They are both in wrestling attire, but stacked behind them are about fifty boxes of Twinkies. Wilkie is shoving one after another down his gullet.

McNasty: Wilkie, why are you eating them like that?

Wilkie speaks inbetween eating.

Wilkie: Because…despite popular belief…Twinkies expire. I figure…if I store them in my stomach…I can pull them out whenever I want….Like Mayor West on Family Guy stored that survival kit.

McNasty: Wilkie, there is so much wrong with that theory I don’t think we have time to go over it. Therefore….keep at it champ.

Wilkie holds a thumb up and smiles as he continues eating. McNasty turns his attention to the camera.

McNasty: Uproars, I’m a nice guy. I hate to disappoint people. That’s why it kills me so that you two are going against us again. And there isn’t even money on this line this time…

McNasty suddenly turns green and looks like he’s seen a ghost.

McNasty: Wilkie…where did you get the money for all those Twinkies?

Wilkie stops eating to finally breath.

Wilkie: I found some suitcase full of money in the back seat while you went into that gas station to pee.

McNasty goes from green to red. He really is in the holiday spirit!

McNasty: Excuse me a second folks.

The screen changes to a white background with a still picture of McNasty and Wilkie skipping through a field of flowers with the words “We’ll be right back.” on it. We come back to find McNasty downing a bottle of Jack. When he finishes, he tosses it off stage.

Wilkie: Aren’t you an alcoholic?


Wilkie: *Gasp* you’re right!

Wilkie goes back to that as McNasty attempts to stand up, speak, and look forward all at the same time. A bit difficult for him now.

McNasty: So…Uproars, as I was sayin’, there is no money on the line. You simply are in this for…for what? I don’t know. To show you two can work together? Is that it? Did I get it? Or maybe you just don’t want to give up. Don’t want everyone to think you’re quitters. Well boys, lemme tell you sum’in. Quitting when you can’t win is sometimes the best thing to do. Of course,

McNasty laughs, and leans back to the point he is against the wall. He pushes off and stumbles a little before finding his footing again.

McNasty: I would not know about quitting. But you know who would? Allen Chaney. Yep. Allen was on top of the AOWF world. For a week or so at least. Then he lost the belt, retreated to TGW, or BWF, or RXW, who can keep up with this crap anymore? Wait, where was I?

McNasty blinks one eye at a time. Wilkie takes a deep breath.

Wilkie: Chaney, quitting, TGW.

McNasty: RIGHT, RIGHT…right. He goes there, and pretty much bips off the map. Next thing we know, he works at Burger Queen, and fights fans. Stay classy San Diego!

McNasty burps.

McNasty: Chaney, Uproars, you both want to be here…I think. But me and Wilkie, we live here. We’ve been here almost half a decade. We aren’t leaving now. And we sure as hell aren’t taking three steps back by losing our stride now. If you guys want to get made, stop trying to cheat the system by fighting the tens, when you are on the two level. Beat some level three talent, maybe even steal a win from a level four! In a few years, maybe then you can try to beat us again. But for now, it’s just another thing that is going to keep causing you stress. Keep making you feel like you can’t win. Because, lets be honest, against us…

McNasty and Wilkie pose. It doesn’t necessarily give the desired effect though considering McNasty is plastered and can barely stand, and Wilkie has a half eaten Twinkie hanging from his mouth.

McNasty: You guys just don’t have a chance. So we’ll see you out there. But hopefully, after losing to us for a second week in a row, you’ll get the idea. I hear Golden Inferno is looking for training partners.

McNasty begins laugh uncontrollably, and falls off camera. Wilkie looks down, shrugs, and goes back to his Twinkies.

We pan out to the ring.

Larry Gordon: I hope McNasty sobered up by now.

Linzi Martin: I hope Wilkie’s heart didn’t stop.


“IS THAT WHAT I ASKED YOU TO TO FUCKING DO, NATHAN DRAKE?!?! YOU SMARMY COCKSUCKER!” shouts Allen Chaney from his new super comfy gaming chair. He downs another Diet NoS energy drink and crushes it on his skull before tossing it behind him. We hear it collide with what we can assume is a large pile of cans offscreen. Allen is in a ‘MF DOOM’ t-shirt and his trademark sleeveless flannel. He has a Playstation 3 controller in hand and dark circles under his eyes.

“Oh…hey…camera. I uh…I did some black friday shopping and got…you know what? Too many. I got too many games. I bought a lot of games I never got around to buying and uh…well lets see yesterday I beat Rage, beat the ‘Classic Era’ mode of AOWF ’13, played Dragon Age: Origins for some amount of time, then took a breather with Uncharted Thr- BAG OF SHIT!” says Allen as Nathan Drake falls down another ravine. he’s usually a far better game than this, but playing nonstop for a day and a half has taken its toll. He hadn’t even STARTED on God of War 3 or Transformers: Fall of Cybertron. Allen starts at the last checkpoint and never takes focus away from the screen as he talks.

“So, Simon Kalis is continuing to flex his revenge boner in my direction and I say good. Put me in tag match by myself against two teams? Awesome, a chance to show how unfuckwithable I am. The odds are not in my favor for sure, but as Walt Disney once said, ‘It is kind of fun to do the impossible’. Then he probably said something about wanting to kill all the Jews. I think if I focused I can finish off four dudes. Hell, my old tag partner Marina could finish off four dudes and all she had do was lay back. HEY-OH!” Allen says, turning to the camera top flash us a big cheesy smile and a thumbs up. He falls down another pit but he lets it go and loads up his checkpoint.

“Still, there is the possibility the odds are stacked up so high that I may need a little help, unfortunately there’s a ton of strictly enforced rules in REBEL Pro that would prevent people from helping me and…oh wait. No there aren’t. I guess the only thing THEN that would be stopping that is the fact that there’s probably no one in REBEL who has that night off who would be willing to help me. Say like a good friend or a roommate who happens to be a tag team specialist.” says Allen as Johnny Maverick wanders into the kitchen area behind Allen in their apartment and yawns as he pours himself a bowl of Boo Berry, he’s wearing a tshirt, pajama pants, and his REBEL Tag Title.

“Now my opponents are probably going to tell you all a THRILLING tale about how I am fat and not funny and how me being here is an affront to all that is professional wrestling as these are the only things people seem capable of saying about me even if someday I was able to get on stage, drop 150 pounds in an instant, yank Matthew Engel out of hiding from the back of my audience, cocksmack him into submission and pin him then do a joke that causes the first few rows of the audience to suddenly die of Uproarious laughter. Uproarious, see what I did there? The Eastern Uproars I’m sure will be no exception to this rule, despite me holding a victory over one of them. I beat one of them once, and the other one was interfering like a motherfucker…I think. I don’t know, my memory of that one is a bit sketchy what with all of the walls currently dissolving around me. So yeah, all I remember about Loomis is that his name is interesting to say and I beat him once by moonsaulting on top of him and all I remember about other guy is…less. I’m gonna guess his name is Jasper because that name is about as good as Loomis and it makes them both sound like very kind elderly African-American gentlemen. Like, two guys playing chess outside of a barber shop in a movie made by Tyler Perry. There, do you see what your names did? Now I might lose because I’m laughing at you while I’m fighting because I’m going to imagine you in a Tyler Perry film. Just kidding, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to smash you into things. Pointy things. Grrrr.” Says Allen, making an angry Grr face for real as Nathan Drake gets shot by a sniper.

“Alex Wilkie and Mark McNasty. There once was a time they were both serious competitors, but they have nearly done as good a job of ruining their credibility as Jay-Z and Kanye West did when they started unironically referring to themselves as H.A.M. and wanted us to all take it super seriously and not point out how absolutely fucking ridiculous that was. You know the thing about fine wine? Just like any other wine if you open it up and spill a few drops It’ll quickly just become vinegar. I plan on spilling more than a few drops of Fine Wine on the canvas. You two have had your glory days, and mine are coming quickly. Within these next few months I am going to have a title belt around my waist and my boot is gonna be so far up Rob Robinsons ass he’ll be able to floss with my shoelaces. You two are probably going to fade back into the obscurity you probably belong in and will hopefully do it before you shit on even more of your reputation.” Ouch, Allen doesn’t pull punches when he’s fucking exhausted.

“In UX I showed that I was there to dominate and I arrived here and showed I was going to do the exactly the same thing. Put whatever obstacles you want in my way, Simon. There isn’t a damn thing that is gonna stop the Stand-Up Smackdown.” says Allen as he hears chewing beside him. He finally looks away from the screen and turns his head at the sound to see a floating chipmunk in a spacesuit.

“Allen. You need to get some rest before your match.” says the chipmunk.

“Yeah, yeah you are probably right cosmic chipmunk. Thank you for sharing a few bits of your interstellar wisdom with me.” Says Allen. He stands up, takes two steps, then collapses on the floor. Johnny ‘The Cosmic Chipmunk’ takes his seat and grabs his PS3 controller. We fade out as Johnny starts playing.

Rubber Match Triple Threat of Doom NOW WITH MORE COMEDY! (You wanted to be here Chaney!)

Fine Wine versus The Uproars versus Allen Chaney

“Cult of Personality” brought the comical Fine Wine many cheers, as expected. They’re hilarious skits and uncanny chemistry have skyrocketed the AoWF icons back into mainstream adoration. The Uproars, on the other hand, aren’t doing nearly as excellent as their UX days, unfortunately. In fact, even some fans have grown disdain for Edison’s excessive arrogance.

Both teams fittingly fill the goodies and baddies columns, but Allen Chaney’s arrival drew a grey area. Due to his anti-AoWF message during his short-lived yet wildly successful UX days, Chaney has to work his way back into these REBEL diehards’ hearts, but UX fans in attendance certainly embrace him. More so when Chaney pointed behind him and fans saw one half of REBEL’s Tag Team Champions, Johnny Maverick, enter wearing attire appropriate for action!

Although formerly fit, Alex Wilkie can reasonably still take flight, not so much through the assistance of ropes but off the mat alone: midway through the match, Wilkie flipped backward for an amazingly flexible moonsault side slam to Maverick!

Edison’ high-risk diving technique (variations of snap DDTs in both inverted and reversed fashion, backbreakers delivered by the knees, and an effective tilt-a-whirl which sent McNasty against the ropes back-first upside down, and then harshly landing on his noggin) evidently prove superior to everyone else’s technique, likely due to his feather stature.

Whereas Chaney ranks in a league of domination on his own, one cannot underestimate Erik Loomis, a powerful amateur boxer that so far reverses Chaney’s attempts of basic heavyweight throws like a powerbomb and sidewalk slam all thanks to Erik’s vicious strikes deliberately testing Chaney’s chin. One Tigerplex and several back-fists later, Erik Loomis weakens Chaney bad enough to leave and assist Edison, who just springboard spinning heel kicked Wilkie into a corner, to wheelbarrow facebuster Wilkie as Edison double knee gutbusters Wilkie, too!

Ignoring the temporary adoration, Loomis returns to Chaney for settlement. Throwing his arms around Chaney, Loomis tries to deadweight lift but gets smashed with two bionic elbows! Breaking out of Loomis’s grasp, Chaney overloads with bionic elbows before pulling Erick inward to lift and deliver the punchline (package piledriver)!

Laid flat out, Loomis easily but unconsciously permits Allen Chaney to pin, but Edison acts hero by missile dropkicking Chaney’s backside! In retaliation, Chaney no-sold, hit Edison with bionic elbows thrice, and then forced Tony onto concrete face-first, thanks to a nifty and gorgeous double underhook facebuster (he didn’t plant Tony inside the ring, no, he lifted Tony as if he would go for a sit-out, but instead, Chaney released Edison after heading towards the ropes, where Edison fell forward as if frogsplashing the concrete)!!

Goofy as it may be, Wilkie’s headbutts switched to a theatric combination of punches ending in a parodied Maverick attack (running shotei) – CAUGHT! Maverick caught the foot, so in retaliation, Johnny ankle locks Wilkie without delay! Having reversed McNasty’s suplex attempt to a tornado DDT, Allen Chaney aids Maverick in a Total Elimination to Wilkie (Chaney executes a spinning leg sweep to the back of the Wilkie’s legs while Maverick executes a spinning heel-kick towards Alex simultaneously, knocking Wilkie backwards)! Jumping for the cover, Wilkie kicks out of Chaney’s pin attempt before the second count!

Fascinating as it was, Fine Wine’s elevated corkscrew neckbreaker followed by a lionsault from McNasty & (from the top turnbuckle) a diving leg drop from Wilkie in one fluid motion couldn’t keep Chaney down for a three count! Dealing punishment, Johnny Maverick brought about a reckoning of which neither ‘Fine Wine’ has dealt with before: springboard knee strike to the McNasty’s throat & double underhook suplexes Wilkie into a corner turnbuckle.

All sides having dished spectacular teamwork, its obvious no team is unfit to be Tag Championship contenders (though Maverick is already a tag champion). The fans appreciate this match, and despite all six either currently or had heat at one time, these fans chant ‘Thank You Kalis’! Well, until Edison accidentally cracked referee John Chellios in the face when Maverick dodged a leaping forearm smash! When Edison stood, realizing his error, Maverick clotheslines him from behind, taking them both over the top rope and onto the outside.

In the midst of the referee bump, Allen once more delivers the punchline, but this time to Alex Wilkie! At the same time, McNasty soars through the air for his Malicious Intent (shooting star press) on Loomis of the Uproars. Very unexpected, Simon Kalis runs down the ramp as he pulls a referee’s shirt down his neck! This cannot be good. Especially when in ring, Kalis stands between two men pinning two separate men, but Simon signals his intent by tapping his eye patch, grinning, before counting McNasty’s pin attempt! And so the victory goes to Fine Wine, leaving Allen with a huge “WTF” face, similar to the crowd’s collective enragement; running away lol’ing, Simon Kalis has screwed Allen worse than prison sex. Fine Wine couldn’t careless, and are, in fact, celebrating this win in style: Alex Wilkie bashes his fists together and then shoves four twinkies into his mouth while McNasty poses on the top turnbuckle.

Fake Empire IV

A good way to return from commercial break would be “Game of Thrones Main Title” singing Wrestling’s Undisputed down to ringside, which exactly happens. Prepared for their non-title bout against resident REBEL medium talent, Might & Magic, sporting all white attire, prepositions to their distil purpose in the tag division, the wealthy, healthy Mexican and sacrilegious yet sacred prophet of homeless folk arrive side-by-side, confidently indifferent. Tonight, a first in some time, fans appreciate the UX tag champions by singing the chorus of Queen’s “We Are the Champions” when the dynamic duo have settled in-ring and their theme music has gone silent.

Cesar Salazar: “It’s good to know people still remember who we are.”

Slick-haired Salazar says as he leans against a corner turnbuckle, with arms hung over the top ropes.

Deicide: “Because we’re hardly on camera?”

‘The Risen’ has centre stage, preferring to stand straightened and buffed.

Cesar Salazar: “Technically we are, if we manage to sneak ourselves into special guest commentator roles.”

Deicide: “Or request refereeing our competitor’s tag matches.”

Cesar Salazar: “Either way, we’ve previously acknowledged Simon’s bookings don’t often include us merely due to his terribly exhausted division, and also we’re novel commodities.”

Deicide: “So he got the pass for not constantly having us wear out filler bores like Golden Inferno, and, well, Might & Magic, because if we were to defeat those likes repetitively great, it’d be counterproductive in furthering our quest of conquer, wreck and rebuild grandiose. Subtract the vanguard and we’re left with ‘Fine Wine’ and ‘The KKK’, who’re unquestionably the only bodies capable of bridging our last act in stage one:”

Cesar Salazar: “Elevate these gemmed straps buttoned firmly around our waists into Main Event stature.”

Deicide: “But then last week, REBEL aired a teaser trailer advertising ‘Merry Time Massacre’ with us nowhere involved, without a single mention of the Tag Team unification match.”

Most of this back-and-forth looks as if they’re privately discussing outside at a table belonging to some café, occasionally oblivious to the thousands in attendance.

Cesar Salazar: “We took Simon’s tweak of billing us as the Disputed champions as a lighthearted poke, because otherwise it’s an indefensible stance. Yet this overt snub to recognize us is a knife-edge chop.”

Pushing his cowboy hat up a little to scratch his forehead, Deicide’s frown is noticeable only by his winkled brow, since the rest of his unidentifiable mug hides underneath a forest of beard.

Deicide: “Why, Simon? Don’t we provide this company with social relevance, shelter REBEL from phony standards, and ensure bundles of dough stay in its tummy, even double stuffing its swollen, pink-black pussy whenever she aches?”

Cesar Salazar: “We’ve treated REBEL better than any past boyfriends. Doesn’t seem unreasonable for her to pick up the pom-poms, slip on a skirt and ponytail her hair in our favor.”

Deicide: “Seriously, all we want is some oral support. Don’t paint a picture of us unzipped and limp. We’re bulging with erections, seeking to drop a load of greatness atop your savage face. Aren’t girls supposedly infatuated with pearly jewels?”

Cesar Salazar: “I’ve heard Anna Mathews goes nuts for shinnies, but unfortunately for her, she’ll need to wait till ‘Merry Time Massacre’ to receive her necklace. Plus Maverick apparently teeter-totters, so he might want one, too.”

Deicide: “Homosexuality is gradually becoming a widely accepted practice. Besides, we don’t discriminate, anyway.”

Cesar Salazar: “All somewhat unfunny sex puns aside, it suffices to say that REBEL is our slavish slut; hence why you and all these people call us Champions. And as your Champions, we demand that whenever you consider running another ad promoting anything associated with us, be certain to include us.”

In an exaggerated pose of fright, Deicide throws up his hands as if told to freeze by policemen.

Deicide: “Shouldn’t indicate a threat, now! We wouldn’t want to be grouped with fleeing, crybabies, pseudo-emerald and stone.”

Cesar Salazar: “Not at all, D. Nobody could have the impression we’d do anything to harm REBEL’s reputation since our work is toward enhancing its cruel premise. There are other ways of protesting, such as now, where we just devour airtime, chat about truths whilst cementing our presence.”

Deicide: “And we haven’t begun to disparage Phoenix’s minions yet. Is that a comment in itself?”

Cesar Salazar: “There’s all this talk of The Pantheon resurrecting, which is this big deal if rumors have merit, but none of this hype suggests Might & Magic are needed in Phoenix’s plan.”

A snap of Deicide’s fingers says he’s discovered the answer.

Deicide: “Therefore, they’re weaklings; meat added to a torso just for a heavier reflection.”

A nod escapes the clean-shaven Salazar.

Cesar Salazar: “Mere numbers to increase the delusion. Within this month, The Phoenix’s clutch on REBEL’s World Championship will perish once Sean Robinson locks Achilles, to cap his lightning-in-a-bottle momentum. For us to squeeze tears from the already battered Might & Magic can only heighten the ringing truth of our collective Undisputed nature.”

Deicide: “I’ve totally forgotten we’re also undefeated.”

Cesar Salazar: “When victory becomes mundane, that’s what happens. Back in UX, we divided and fired El Pollos, The Giants, Soviet Union, Commissar & HOLOKOST.”

Deicide: “Then we came here to bury ‘Golden Inferno’ like everyone who’s anyone does, disclose The Uproars as a lost cause-“

Cesar Salazar: “People once expected them to beat us for these titles.”

Deicide: “Again: lost cause. And now, Simon Kalis offers Might & Magic up to us almost as if another one of his bizarre cow sacrifices, except we’re tasked with slitting their throats.”

Cesar pats his thighs jokingly in search of something.

Cesar Salazar: “I didn’t bring utensils, what of you?”

Deicide: “Like a voodoo child, we’ll chop them down with the edges of our hands.”

With a smirk, Cesar says, “Might even raise a little sand.”

Deicide: “This match isn’t about winning just because, though. Like all that we say, think and do, if between the lines are read, our actions, most importantly, shape the foundation we plan to build the tag division on. Moke and Dragon, you two are simply faces to be shown in our highlight reels bleeding, screaming and spirits fading to get across just how massive we are.”

Cesar Salazar: “Since Simon Kalis got amateur promotional skills, we’ll treat you two as if this were pottery class, with the end product being two crippled vessels flying the message of our Undisputed.”

Deicide: “Crippled? They’d not get far, then.”

Cesar Salazar: “Metaphorically speaking.”

Having said that, the two drop their microphones, creating a loud staticy crash sound and “Game of Thrones Main Title” conjures as the broadcast sinks into a quick commercial interruption.

Non-Title Match

Wrestling’s Undisputed versus Might & Magic

Cool on the surface for their segment prior to this match, Wrestling’s Undisputed’s frustrations with how they’ve been marketed and booked are on full display now. Usually, Might & Magic are at least capable of bringing a lengthy competitive exchange, despite rolling on a loser streak. This week, however, only within the first minute of this tornado tag bout do Moke and Dragon deliver solid offense of punches.

Because of Deicide’s background in jujitsu, the Sacred caught a swinging arm from Moke and so judo thrown the bulky figure into an arm-bar leg-trapping takedown. Opposite to this, Dragon clotheslined Salazar over-the-top-rope, but he safely landed and immediately counteracted via jumping enzuigiri that smacks Dragon forward throat-first onto the top rope!

From there on out, the next three minutes see the (Un)disputed Tag Champs perform a variety of double team combos: held in an inverted DDT position, Dragon is blasted in his backside by a swung upright knee of Cesar Salazar, who releases the reversed headlock to shove Dragon into a jumping big boot by Deicide, yet Dragon does not collapse; only further dazed and stumbling backward, Salazar concludes Dragon’s round of punishment with a double knee backbreaker!

Doshky managed to catch Deicide off-guard with a one-handed bulldog. Though that sneakiness has a consequence, which is Salazar quickly pulling Moke backward by the neck for an inverted headlock backbreaker, which in turn allows Deicide to reemerge for a jawbreaker lariat! Once Moke is sent head-over-heels, The Dragon, who struggles to gather himself, is left to eat a European uppercut to the backside of his head (Deicide) and straightforward discus elbow to the face (Salazar) that promptly ends the match via pinfall by Cesar.

Again, like previous weeks, Paul Alba, the Undisputed Voice, is at ringside holding both tag championships for his boys, and is ecstatic when they win. So when they exit the ring, Paul Alba leads them atop the steel ramp and raises their hands, gloriously. Interestingly, Alba shouts to a cameraman next to these three UX legends and undoubtedly soon-to-be REBEL powerhouses, “Hey Johnny! Managing Chaney may be a better gig after all!”

Everyone Hates The Phoenix

“Welcome Home” by Coheed and Cambria starts to play as North Carolina’s least favorite wrestler walks to the ring. The crowd lets the REBEL Pro World champion know he’s not welcome, but he ignores them as he calmly climbs the steps to the ring and ducks through the ropes. He’s wearing his AOWF World title belt and carrying the REBEL Pro World title on his shoulder. As he gets to the middle of the ring, he drops the REBEL Pro belt on the mat.

The Phoenix: People have been talking, like they always do. And as is so often the case, the Phoenix has been the topic of conversation. Why hasn’t he been living up to his legend? Why has he been taking it easy in REBEL Pro? How have those scrubs been beating him every week?

The Phoenix: Those are interesting questions, to be sure. The fact is, the Phoenix just hasn’t been giving a damn about REBEL Pro. That’s not news, though, now is it? I’ve never given a damn about this company, not since it turned its back on me and was stolen from me. I’ve never wanted to wrestle here and I sure as hell don’t want to be your champion.

The crowd boos to let him know they agree with the last statement.

The Phoenix: I just didn’t have any choice in the matter. REBEL Pro was due a shot at the AOWF World title and as the champion, I had to defend my belt. It isn’t my fault nor was it my choice for the REBEL Pro World title to be on the line in that match. REBEL Pro managed to put one over on me. They know that it is my curse to put everything on the line to defend my titles. I just can’t help myself. So by tricking me into becoming their champion they were able to force the biggest star in the history of the AOWF to wrestle for them, to be the face of their fucking company.

The Phoenix: And since that day, what have I done? As little as possible. Why should I give REBEL Pro an ounce of effort when I clearly don’t want to be here in the first place? Why should I allow this pathetic excuse of a company to leech off my hard earned reputation? The answer, clearly, is that I shouldn’t. They haven’t earned it and they sure as shit don’t deserve it.

The Phoenix: So I come out and do the bare minimum that still allows me to honor my contract. I say a few words, as few as possible and I come out and do a couple moves and allow myself to be put on my back for three second. Then I rush back to my hotel and take the hottest shower possible to wash away the stink of this place. And the whole time I haven’t cared one bit. I know that the end is coming for the AOWF and I know that I’ll be the one to deliver the death blow. Plans are in motion and events have already started, nothing can stop them now. But the death I’m bringing is a cancer. It is slowly eating away and destroying from within. The keyword there was “slowly”. I’m the harbringer of total destruction, have no doubt about that. But it will be eventual destruction.

The Phoenix: In the meantime, I’ve got to suffer the barbs and insults of people that are so far beneath me they have to use a telescope just to see the treads of my shoes. I’ll admit that I’ve got a bit of an ego, however. And to hear these fucking peons questions me, to wonder if I’ve lost my skills, my abilities… Well, it has become too much to bear.

The Phoenix: I would have been content to let REBEL Pro enjoy this brief calm before the storm. To continue taking loss after loss to lull you into a false sense of security. That would have made your fall so much sweeter. But you just had to keep poking the sleeping giant. When that happens, you can’t be surprised that the giant is pissed when he wakes up.

The Phoenix: So you want the Phoenix you’ve heard so much about? You want the real Phoenix? The super Phoenix? I guess no one ever told you to be careful what you wish for, because it looks like you’re going to get it. I may have to team up with Anna Mathews this week, but even that space brain can’t hold me down now. I may not want to be your champion, but that’s not going to stop me from acting like it from now on.


We fade in to a place full of drama. I know that’s not much of a description seing as how any place filled with Kaliseseses has drama. But bear with me here. In the center of this room, PuppetSimon and his somewhat outdated spawn, PuppetMasa do their serious foreshadowing over a slice of cake. For those new to this neck of the woods, it’s “omg awesome!” But for those that’ve watch the real life counterparts nearly try to kill each other and come back together again, it starts sounding like Charlie Brown’s teacher.

PuppetSimon: Wah-wa-wah-wa-wah.

Like that.

PuppetMasa: Wa-wah-wa-wah-wahwa-wah!

And that. It doesn’t help that their invisible mouths were stuffed. They’ve been doing this literally since the Titanic sank. You can tell by the lifesaver wrapped around PuppetSimon. He doesn’t seem to mind it though. Why should he? Dude’s worn stanger shit.

PuppetSimon: *gulp!* Once again, you underestimate me, son. You underestimate my foresight. I know what war is. I can smell it from miles away.

PuppetMasa: *gulp!* And you think I can’t, old man? Have you forgotten how many times I’ve been in the trenches? That’s why I’m doing this! That’s why I have to get rid of the corrupt. Even you.

PumpkinDyce: Aye!

The Dyce puppet sits on the couch with a naked PuppetMaya giving him a blow job. Yes, it is possible. He’s also drunker than fuck after inhaling a thousand twelve packs of Grizzly Beer.

PumpkinDyce: We have to do what’s best, lads! That Elena minch couldn’t put a dent in me an’ neither will the rest o’ em. Give me yer Tee-Em-Bees and yer Scottie Snows and yer candy covered fish!

A gunshot rings out as a bullet strikes across his kneecap. His slut stops sucking for about five minutes, shrugs and keeps on keeping on. As the boyo whimpers, our camera pans back just in time to see a smoking gun being hidden.

PuppetSimon: Where were we?

PuppetMasa: The fuck?! He’s one of your students!

See that shrug? That’s the cue that he doesn’t really care. Besides, we were missing a cripple puppet. The prodigal son is furious as he jumps from his chair, cape and such fluttering in the breeze.
PuppetMasa: That’s it. No more games. I challenge you…

Dramatic extreme close up.

PuppetMasa: …to a Kalistic Slapfight!

Dun-dun-duuuun! The elder rises to his feet and lands a uberbrutal cheapshot. You can tell this because the soft hitting noise was, like, a tiny bit louder than what it’s supposed to be. The Adrian-thing that kinda is and kinda isn’t retaliates with quick strikes that actually look quite impressive for somebody stuffed with fluff. It quickly deteriorates into two puppets slapping the shit out of each other with barbed wire and fire and other manners of hand whipping fun. Meanwhile in 17th-century America, a wanna-be prophet slaps on his rose-colored glasses and proceeds to make up shit.

Joseph Smith: Mister Harris, you know I can’t do such a thing! This is God’s work.

He follows through with a stomp while his scribe pretty much stares at him like he’s nuts. Which he is really. Dude believes that two sparkling golden belts from the gawd-damned future are golden plates that recorded supernatural things that people long dead believed in. Yawn.

Martin Harris: Listen, if you’re not going to show me these imaginary gold plates you’re allegedly translating from, at least let me show the script to a few of my relatives.

Le sigh. How horrible. It took him a few years to get this endeavor off the ground and now, his impromptu secretary wants proof.

Joseph Smith: Fine, whatever. But don’t lose…

Didn’t even get to finish his sentence. The other guy runs away with all his papers to show off to his family and snicker about how much of a nutjob he is. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Remember the time you told people you efed and then explained it to them and they looked at you like you were crazy? Don’t tell me you’ve never had that moment. You’d be lying.

“Heh, heh. Sucker.”

Joseph Smith: What?

He whips around to see the Master of Time and Space in living color…sort of. She totally stole the toga from some Roman on her way over and the sandals have been torn to bits.

“Eye sayz yoor an idiot.”

Despite this clear insult, it doesn’t stop our former treasure hunter from bowing to her.
Joseph Smith: Ah, Moroni! Great to see you.

Eye roll. We don’t get to see snarky, frustrated, hope-you-die-in-a-fire Anna very often. But when she’s dealing with Justin-Case-with-a-wig type stupidity, it boils to the surface like lava.

“Four the fifteenth tyme, my name’s nawt Moroni. Und are you done wif my shinys yet?”

Joe-joe turns sheepish.

Joseph Smith: Well, not exactly…

She raises her hand up.

“Spare me. Aye kan tell already this ish gonna be a pain in the ass. Sew I’m gonna let joo bathe inn yoor own horribleness. But I’m gonna need mi titles bak soon. Iz important. Got et?”


Joseph Smith: Got it.

“Gud! Nao yif u’d excuse mii.”

A bright flash of light later and we’re right back where we were before. The Kalistic Slapfighting has turned into a slapfighting rumble. PuppetMasa slaps PuppetSimon whose slapping PumpkinDyce whose smacking PuppetMaya on the ass. It’s a hand to flesh orgy that resumes for no reason. The Dodo Queen teleports to the scene and headtilts.

“Um. Wat’cha dooing?”

And everything stops at once as they all turn towards her.

PuppetMasa: …nothin’.

Her eyes narrow. Those buttons that act as eyes stay wide. With a florish, the cake disappears.

“No cake for joo!”

Puppets: Awww.

Sadness everywhere. The Aggression champion sighs and puts on her best disappointed mother face.

“Cereal. Iz this et? It this all we’ve become?”

They still stare, clueless.

“Look at olive yoo. I’ve created ev’ry single won of you too do one simple solitary fing. I brought you life. I gave you moveable parts. Eye lets jou speek even when ya haz no plase to speak. And this ish what I get? A load of bitchin’ and fighting constantlee?”

All the felted heads hang low.

“No, no. I realize thar’s a lot awn my plate. I’m busy defending titles and tring ta git titles and preparing for this inevitable skewjob of a tag match tonight and starting up the Mormons dat eye kant’s bea around all the tyme. Ish my fault and I’m sowwy.”

Silence. What exactly can you say about something like that? Then slowly, one by one, the PuppetKaliseseses (and a limping PumpkinDyce) crowd around and hug her. It’s sweet and heartwarming and deserves a fucking award. They squeeze tight enough to where a lightbulb appears.

“I haz an idea. We’d hav ta get the rest ov ‘em together four it but—“

They look up at her.

“Wii need to do sumthing big.”

She grins to everybody as we fade the hell out.

All of The Lights

On any given night, the lights of the Vegas Strip turn the city into an oasis of mid-afternoon in the desert of midnight. On this particular night, however, the bulbs don’t burn quite so bright. The neons go cold and dark. Vegas Vic’s big smile seems a little smaller, and the rest of Glitter Gulch has lost some of its shine.

All of this can be attributed to one thing: Once again, the old UX Arena is dark and dead. REBEL has moved operations back to North Carolina, much to the chagrin of Vegas bookies and Durham police.

One man hasn’t given up on the place so easily, though. Sean Robinson stands outside the UX Arena, his back to the camera. He stares up at the large neon sign out front, gaudy even by local standards. HOME OF THE UNDERGROUND, it states. Not anymore.

“It’s almost like leaving home.”

He turns around and faces the camera. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, a reflection of the Strip’s constant illumination, but there’s almost a wet sheen in his eyes.

“Boston hasn’t been home for me in years, and the people here in Vegas are the only ones to appreciate me in a long time. Those hicks back in North Carolina certainly don’t, and I can’t figure out why. I’m trying to take the REBEL World Title away from a man who clearly wants nothing to do with the belt, or the company for that matter. I’m trying to bring back a standard of professional wrestling that hasn’t been seen in the Carolinas since the days of Rex Caliber, and all I get is a hail of boos every time I step into the ring.”

He turns and delivers a kick to a nearby trashcan, which goes flying off into the night, leaving a trail of garbage in its wake. A rare moment of rage from the usually calm Robinson. He takes a deep breath, rubs his temples, and composes himself before continuing.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not here to make friends. I’m not in this business for the adoration of children, or even for the ring rats, contrary to popular belief. I’m not here for the money that comes with being the merchandise cash cow. No, I’m here for one reason, and one reason only. To prove to the world that I’m the best wrestler in the game today. And the only way to do that is to take the REBEL World Title from Rob Robinson.

And this week I get a shot at him. Oh sure, it’s a tag team match. But I don’t have any worries about Anna Mathews. I’ve made her tap out once already. If she gets in my way, I’ll just do it again. And this time I won’t let go of the hold when she passes out.

This might be a non-title match, but you still better be ready, Rob. See, next week is the big night. And if you were to suffer a horrific injury tonight, say a blown-out knee or a broken arm… Well then you’d lose by default, wouldn’t you? I’m sure that would be embarassing for Kalis, and disappointing for the fans, but like I said. Their opinions don’t mean shit to me. Only one thing matters, and you’ve got it around your waist.

For now.”

Robinson walks out of the frame, and the camera zooms in until the UX Arena sign fills the frame. The letters on the sign flicker and die one by one, until the only thing left is UX and HOME. They persist as the scene fades to black.

Challengers versus Champions Tag Team Match

Justin Case & Sean Robinson versus Anna Mathews & The Phoenix

With everyone in the ring, the match began under normal REBEL Pro Tag team rules: that being of a tornado variety. Justin immediately gunned it for Anna while Robinson and Robinson grappled, putting the entire crowd on their feet. Case went for a clothesline on Anna, but she ducked and hit him with a spinning heel kick. Phoenix twisted Sean around and then laid him out with a DDT while Anna followed up her attack on Case with a Mandala hineri which really excited the crowd. Sean Robinson got back up quickly and grappled again with Phoenix, a power struggle ensuing between the two until Robinson got out of it before quickly taking Phoenix down with a german suplex. Anna tried getting at Case with her speed as her advantage but Case finally caught up to her and laid her out flat with a stunning fisherman’s suplex. Meanwhile Robinson of the Sean variety locked in an single leg crab on The Phoenix, yelling for The REBEL Champion to tap out. Case went nuts on Anna, pounding her face with lefts and rights while Anna tried to lift her arms up over her face to protect herself.

Anna kneed Case as Phoenix grabbed the bottom rope, although Sean did not let go of the hold. Referee Alan Stone informed Sean that no tap out from Phoenix will count with Phoenix’s grip on the bottom rope, although it didn’t matter as Phoenix used a last bit of strength to use his free leg to somehow kick Sean Robinson, forcing him to let go. Though stretching himself awkwardly like that did seem to have an adverse effect on The Phoenix’s lower back, while Anna laid Case down handspring back elbow as Case came at her. Rob-Rob recovered and tagged Robbo with a spinning neckbreaker, quickly going for the pin but Robbo kicked out by the 2 count.

Case powerslams Anna suddenly and the ring shakes, he covers her but he too only gets a two count. The Phoenix rushes at Case and spears him to the canvas and begins climbing the ropes. Robbo rushes to knock Rob-Rob off the top rope but Anna Mathews rolls Robbo up in a schoolboy pin. She only gets a two count but it gives The Phoenix ample time to hit The Ashes just as Justin Case was about to get up, putting The Legendary Legacary right back down. Susan Boyle attempted to jump into the thick of things only to have Anna shove Sean Robinson into her as The Phoenix covered Justin Case.


Anna throws herself on Robinson, taking them both down to the canvas.


Robinson shoves Anna off of himself.


The Phoenix quickly rolls out of the ring and raises his own arms, with Sean Robinson leaning over the ropes and pointing at him livid. Anna Mathews somehow ends up with a paper plate and a slice of cake in her hand as she walks off, her two belts over her shoulder. The Phoenix grabs his two belts, and Anna offers Phoenix a bite but The Phoenix scoffs and snubs her as he leaves, ignoring her, the fans and especially Sean Robinson. Case sits up, looking out toward Anna who smiles and waves with a fork and cake in her hand as we fade.


Mike Majere defeats C-Luke and Jeremy Gold
Jaice Wilds defeats Bobby Lee
The Toughest Bastards defeat Golden Inferno
Fine Wine defeats The Uproars and Allen Chaney
Wrestling’s Undisputed defeats Might & Magic
Anna Mathews & The Phoenix defeat Justin Case & Sean Robinson

Aggression 11-26-2012

There Are Always Two.

“Seven Devils” by Florence and The Machines begins to play.

Jenny Jersey: Introducing! Accompanied to the ring by Lacey Gloria!

The crowd cheers as the lights go out in the arena.

Jenny Jersey: He is the AoWF Television Champion, ADRIAN KALIS!

Seven devils all around you!
Seven devils in my house!
See they were there when I woke up this morning!
And I’ll be dead before the day is done!

The entrance explodes with fireworks. Suddenly, walls of flames gush up from the left side of the entrance ramp. A platform begins to raise.

Seven devils all around you!
Seven devils in YOUR house!
See I was dead when I woke up this morning…
And I’ll be dead before the day is done!

The flames circle Adrian and Lacey, who is in Adrian’s arms, holding herself close to him. The crowd jumps to their feet, cheers echoing through the arena. Adrian and Lacey share a passionate kiss in the midst of the flames, and then she slides herself behind him as Adrian steps forward through the flames, lifting his face mask back up. Fireworks pop off all along the entrance ramp beside him, with every three steps he takes. The flames dissipate and Lacey quickly follows Adrian, right behind him smirking. Adrian stops at the ring, looking up into the ring.

They can keep me alive!
‘Till I tear the walls!
‘Till I slave your hearts!
And they take your souls!

Adrian circles the ring, before jumping up on the ring apron and entering.

And what have we done?!
Can it be undone?!
In the evils heart!
In the evils soul!

Adrian lifts up the AoWF Television title with both hands as flames shoot from the four corners of the ring, and the arena is lit by pure fire.

Seven devils all around you!
Seven devils in YOUR house!
See I was dead when I woke up this morning…
And I’ll be dead before the day is done!

Adrian places the belt over his left shoulder, and gets the microphone in his other hand from Jenny. Lacey waves to the fans, as all the orange flags raise up in the arena.

Before the day… is.. Done.

Adrian Kalis: LAS VEGAS!!!!!

The crowd cheers, of course they would.

Adrian Kalis: The last of my blood to finally stand before all of you here in the Underground Arena. It’s good to finally make your acquaintance.

Adrian looks around the crowd and nods respectfully.

Adrian Kalis: Do you see that, folks?

Adrian points to the REBELTron, which is flanked at either side by large black and red Order of Chaos banners.

Adrian Kalis: Most of you may not understand the significance of that, but those flags are there as a constant reminder to all in REBEL Pro and all those across the Alliance of Wrestling Federations as to who it is who is in control of REBEL Pro. A battle which resulted in the effective termination of a dozen individuals, great names and wrestlers who fell to the sword.

Adrian taps his chest.

Adrian Kalis: My sword. Yet! In my zealous pursuit of absolute victory in the first half of this year, I found myself left out in the cold. Underappreciated, unsung for the great work I had done and swept aside by the companies I had done it for. I became an outcast, a nomad. A champion of this community without a home.

Adrian adjusts the AoWF Television Championship on his shoulder.

Adrian Kalis: Fast forward to today and I am the most successful wrestler on the TGW roster, yet with TGW in unknown waters what am I left with?


Adrian shakes his head.

Adrian Kalis: Not in how you think, folks. You see I am returning to REBEL Pro. My old man has given me full control over the show this week, to do as I please. It isn’t the first time I’ve been the one calling shots in REBEL Pro, and I don’t plan to let it be the last. You see, this compromise that sees me standing here in front of all you tonight is a direct result of the actions I took last week. My old man understands why I did it, but I know him. It wasn’t the first time he placed himself in a title match in REBEL Pro, and I know it won’t be the last.

Larry Gordon: Where is the kid going with all of this?

Linzi Martin: Beats me, Larry. Maybe he’s going to set some clause preventing Simon from competing in REBEL Pro again.

Adrian looks to Lacey, who leans back against the ropes and winks.

Adrian Kalis: Mmhmm. Yes. So. I am booking a match. Except this match won’t be for tonight. This match has been over twenty years in the making, when you really think about it. As Simon Kalis will face me, Adrian Kalis at Merry Time Massacre!

The crowd erupts into full blown chorus of cheers and camera flashes blind the ringside area for a moment.

Larry Gordon: Did he really just do that?

Adrian Kalis: This is what the orange revolution is all about, ladies and gentlemen. To root out the corrupt and unworthy, no matter who they are and what position they are in. And so at Merry Time Massacre, Simon and I will battle for the title of President of REBEL Pro. His title.


Linzi Martin: Well shit, we may have a new boss Larry!

Larry Gordon: Speak for yourself, I still own 49% of REBEL Pro.

Adrian waits a moment for the crowd to calm down before raising the AoWF Television Championship.

Adrian Kalis: And I will put my AoWF Television title on the line as well.

Larry Gordon: Oh my!

Adrian Kalis: And before you think that’s all? Merry Time Massacre will be taking place at the Olympic Stadium in Montreal, Quebec- the largest building in all Canada for us to fight in. With enough seating

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for over 75,000 people! It will be the largest event in the history of REBEL Pro, and on that stage I will take this company back and let the actual REBEL stars fight rather than Rob Robinson and Mark Sommers wannabes acting like this is the fucking PWA.


Linzi Martin: He just went there. Ouch.

Adrian straps the AoWF Television title back around his waist.

Adrian Kalis: And the most important part of all? This will be a match that was never allowed in the Pioneer Wrestling Association when my old man and my uncle sought to do it. But here? In REBEL Pro? Anything goes, and we will see the birth of the Kalistic Death Match. Wait until you see this match from hell. Until then? Wave your orange flags, folks. And never forgot! ALL HAIL!


“Seven Devils” hits again as Adrian drops the microphone and sits on the middle rope for Lacey to exit the ring first. He follows her and they both make their way back up the entrance ramp, slapping the hands of fans as they pass by.

Linzi Martin: What the hell just happened? That was mind blowing announcement after mind blowing announcement.

Larry Gordon: The Kalistic Death Match…

Linzi Martin: What? You know what that is?

Larry Gordon: Yes, I do Linzi. And suffice it to say, one of them will likely lose their career if not their life. Hell, if not both of them.

Linzi Martin: …And Aggression has only just begun.

Basketball Diaries Starring Bobby Lee

Bobby Lee:
“Oooh, my Head!”

Bobby Lee is sitting in his recliner, shaking violently and pressing both hands into his temples. We notice this first, then the fact that he is but ass naked with a bag of ice thankfully covering his testicles.

“Umvne theehe, coowvnet, ggghhhelsing.”

He’s still shaking, probably going through withdrawals.


He gigles, but winces from the pain in his head, there are still track marks showing all over his body.

“Mowvyay.”‘He’s possibly asleep, but highly doubtful.

“Heemsn doowavllegyiuas.”

He pukes.



3:17 P.M. Two days before Misgivings.
Popular Fast Food Restaurant.
Overland Park, KS.
Footage sent in by a fan.

Allen: Hello, sir. Welcome to [REDACTED], How may I help you?

???: Hey! You’re Allen Chaney! Weren’t you AOWF World Champion?

Allens eye twitches and we see a quick glimmer of Allen as a part of A-Squared bringing a steel chair down on several peoples heads. Back to ‘reality’.

Allen: Yeah…Yeah I was.

???: Yeah! Hey, and you used to date Jen Corlen, too! Man, why did you ever break up with her.

Another eye twitch and a glimmer, this time of Allen winning the AOWF world title.

Allen: I…I don’t…

???: Imagine, if you hadn’t of dumped her she might not have been in that car accident and ended up paralyzed.

Another eye twitch and we see Allen unleash brutality on Reece Paxton, Willie Williams, and several other members of the UX staff with a barbed-wire wrapped toy lightsaber.

???: Well anyway, I’ll have a [REDACTED], and a large [REDACTED].

Allen: Your….your total will be 3.58…. Here’s your receipt…

???: Hey, can I get a pic…

Allen: No.

The man walks off in a huff and probably tweets about what a dick Allen Chaney is. Another customer comes up and Allen thinks he is having a flasback again until said possible flashback smacks him hard across the face and yanks him over the counter he’s standing behind. It’s Johnny Maverick, voted ‘Wrestlings Worst Role Model’ for a second year in a row.

Allen: Johnny? What the hell are you…

Johnny: Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Johnny takes an envelope out of his pocket and slaps it against Allens chest.

Johnny: If you waste this, you are going to regret it for the rest of your life.

Johnny takes someones milkshake and leaves. Allen opens the envelope to see a front row ticket for Misgivings. He looks at it for a moment before he looks around at all of the people staring at him. All eyes on him, like it used to be. He smirks. He stands up and takes off his [REDACTED] Shirt and hat and tosses them in the garbage. He turns to ??? and flips him the bird before walking out the door whistling ‘Take this job and shove it’.


We find Allen backstage standing in front of a a REBL Pro sign. He’s definitely lost some weight and put on some muscle since we saw him last.

“A Jolly fat man in red WILL be here for the Holiday season, but he’s decided to forego the usual gifts you’d expect and instead is going to be the Oprah of Bionic Elbows.”

We cut to Allens match last week as he levels each of his opponents with ‘The Set-Up’. We hear his audio this time as he states “YOU get a bionic elbow. YOU get a bionic elbow. EVERYBODY GETS A BIONIC ELBOW!”

“I’ve lost a few things since I’ve last been in an AOWF ring. I’ve lost the RXW tag title. I mean, I never actually lost it in a MATCH I just misplaced it after a night of heavy drinking. I’ve lost a shirt sixe, which is pretty nice, and I’ve also lost any sense of giving a fuck about who I have to hurt to get what I want, as seen last week at Misgivings. Ask me how many fucks I give about what manner of hell Simon Kalis has planned for me?”

Allen pauses, as if waiting to be asked.

“None. None is the amount of fucks I give about who Simon puts in my path. I hold no illusion of Simon and I having ‘buried the hatchet’ after all that happened between us in UX. Marina and I beat his ‘Golden boy’ who disappointed the ever-loving shit out of him and his daughter. Johnathan Cage and Maya Kalis? No match for a Porn Star and a Comedian. Do your worst, Si. I welcome it with open arms. I want you to place impossible task after impossible task in front of me and I want to see the look on your face as I plow right through them. For once the only one who is going to be laughing is the Comedian.”

Allen chuckles a little bit.

“That’s the difference between my other job and this one. At the other job I am all about entertaining people. This job? is all about entertaining me. So what does a Comedian do for fun? What tickles my funny bone? Kicking ass like a mad bastard, Bringing a flaming folding chair down on the head of someone who minutes before was questioning my credibility or the fire in my gut, or giving someone the Punchline of ther lives. It’d also be nice to attract the attention of a pretty lady, but I take these things one step at a time.”

Allen cracks his neck.

“So, I drew a handicap match? Never been in one of those, but apparently I’m supposed to be worried about your tweaker underlings. Gasp. Look at all of the worry in my face. I am so worried.”

Allen has no expression on his face at all.

“This is going to be a massacre. I am going to take these two from pillar to post and gice this audience a show of powerthey won’t forget. Every single one of them will be in the palm of my hand before I nail them hard with the finish. That’s just how a comedian does things, guys.”

Allen gives two thumbs up.


With a flourish, the thumbs transition to a pair of middle fingers.


Allen smirks devilishly before heading offscreen.

Welcome To REBEL Pro- Handicap Match!

Allen Chaney versus Jeremy Gold and Bobby Lee

Seven minutes were spent toying with poor Bobby and shitty Jeremy, but Allen needed something to do this week. And so a big damn clothesline sent Jeremy head over heels, landing on his unlucky neck, and then Allen approached a horrified into a quivering jam, Bobby Lee, to unload a flurry of elbows, in vein of a certain 80s American dream. As result, Bobby’s forehead split open and gave Allen blood to offer as a visual treat for these enthralled fans. Another storm of bionic elbows overwhelmed Jeremy Gold because fuck else does Allen need to prove?

A snap suplex puts Jeremy out of commission, and Bobby gets a leftover of scoop slam into inverted DDT. Standing leg drop quickly follows, but Allen doesn’t lateral press. Instead, the funnyman lifts Bobby off the canvas into a military press and walks to all four separate sides teasing a throw into the crowd! Deciding on the section of tonight’s crowd where a camera is conveniently placed far back in the arena to record ringside, which is the entranceway’s right and announcer’s left, Allen throws Bobby so far, he lands in the fourth row! However, that was due to the momentum Allen gained by running across the ring. Not waiting for fans to settle their markage, Allen’s punchline (package piledriver) predictably lays Jeremy outward for the three.

High Five!

Tony Edison and Erik Loomis are seen preparing for their match tonight against Fine Wine.

Loomis: You gonna choke again like you did last week?

Edison: What the fuck are you talking about?

Loomis: It’s clear, isn’t it? I’ve been carrying you since UX was purchased. It’s like since its no longer under the UX label, you don’t care anymore or some shit.

Edison: Don’t you dare question my love of this sport. I’m the one who brought you in here, and I can take you right back out if I want to. Now are we going to go out there and win this tonight, or are you gonna keep going on about this crap?

Loomis: I don’t know, maybe we aren’t meant to–

Edison: Don’t you dare say we aren’t meant to team. We are the best team in this place, dammit. We’re going to go out to this hole, and show these fans what they paid to see. We’re going to climb that ladder, and retrieve that case!

Loomis: Then we’re gonna be the tag team champions?

Edison: No, but we’re going to be rich. It’s a briefcase full of money, dude, do you not read the memos we get?

Loomis: That works too. How much is it?

Edison: I’d imagine its however much cash Kalis could stuff into a briefcase that size. Because he’s awesome like that, apparently.

Loomis: And our opponents?

Edison: Fine Wine. Stupid name.

Loomis: Who are they?

Edison: I don’t know, but we’re going to go out there and find out. You ready to smash some grapes?

Loomis gives him a nod.

Edison: Good, me too. Now lets go do it!

The two high five, resembling an awkward cartoon friendship moment as we cut.


This day, we start anew. A new mixed breed era in wrestling’s advanced showcased talents. I am the solo founder from the ground up of the N.B.W.F New Breed of Wrestler Foundation. You want action come see, Luke. You need packed go See, Luke. You crave never before witnessed watch to see, Luke. Not only is that the name, husbands and boyfriends beware she might wear it out. But that’s a first impression trademarked statement. From momma white daddy black best of both worlds VINTAGE C-Luke!

Fine Wine

Filmed Earlier:

We open inside a very nice looking restaurant. We have a close up of a wine glass being held up. In a few seconds, red liquid begins filling the glass. We zoom out to see a man in a suit holding the glass up as a waiter tells him about the history of that particular pinot noir. We pan across the room to see multiple tables where this is going on, and some where people are spitting into buckets in the middle of the table. Finally, we end at a small table off in the corner of the restaurant. Sitting there are none other than Rebel Pro rookie allumini, Alex Wilkie and Mark McNasty. McNasty is wearing an overdone tux ala dumb and dumber as it is a light blue with a ton of ruffles. Meanwhile, Wilkie is wearing black sweat pants and a t-shirt that looks like a tux shirt. McNasty is toasting to anything he can think of, and thus thrusting his full wine glass in the air multiple times in quick succession. Wilkie is kind of swimming though as his head swings in full circles, trying to stare at his glass which he is holding.


On one of these toasts, he knocks the bucket in the center of the table over. It’s empty…like you didn’t see that coming.


Wilkie: HERE HERE!

The two goes to toast their glasses, but Wilkie over shoots and face plants on the floor, and McNasty loses his balance and falls backwards in his chair. As he goes back, one leg catches the table and pulls it over with them. We pan to outside where after a few seconds, McNasty and Wilkie are thrown. They pop to their feet, and dust themselves off.

Wilkie: Mark!

McNasty: What Wilkie?

Wilkie: Give me your keys…you’re drunk.

McNasty: Oh…good thinking.

They walk off screen. We now pan to the back of the arena, where we find McNasty and Wilkie sitting on a bench.

McNasty: I know a lot of UX guys don’t know me. Some of them may have seen Wilkie right before the place closed, but they probably never even heard of Grade A Nastyness.

Wilkie speaks in a quasi-sarcastic tone.

Wilkie: But Mark, why ever would you bring this up, when just a few weeks ago you said G-A-N was done?

McNasty: Because Wilkie, earlier this year, when G-A-N came back, people thought we were already done. One tag match later, we were Rebel Pro Tag champs. All I want to convey to these UX boys, is that they better not pull the same bit where they think we are just some crum bums coming out of nowhere thinking we can dominate the tag division. We have experience. We’ve worked together for years. And we beat the hell out of each other over a few belts before that.

Wilkie: I still don’t have all the feeling back right here.

Wilkie presses his finger into a random spot on his arm. McNasty shakes his head as he makes a few *tisk* sounds.

McNasty: Such a tragedy. So, you can understand that you do not have an easy night in for you. Instead, you have two men with four world title reigns between them, looking to waste as little of their precious time as possible while beating you two. Some would say we’re looking to make ourselves over you. Some would say we’re looking to use you to propel this new group of Fine Wine up the ranks. I say, those people are tards.

Wilkie: Binge drinking Tara Reid level tards.

McNasty: Because boys, at the end of the day, Wilkie and myself have already been made. We’ve done everything that can be done in so many feds it isn’t even funny. You know those guys who work their whole life at an awesome job, retire, and then get some shit job just so they aren’t bored? That’s kinda like this. Because you saw the reaction we got just from showing up together in that Rebel Pro ring a few weeks ago. We don’t have to prove anything. Win, lose, draw, people are still going to know who we are. They are still going to love us. And, they are still going to know that it is a bad idea to take Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie likely. We’ve been declared underdogs plenty of times. And just like messing with real dogs, the people who did got a bite in their ass.

Wilkie: So fellahs, what my long winded friend here is saying, is simply this: as we have already compared ourselves to fine wine, remember that too much of it can lead to a hell of a lot of pain when you have to deal with the hang over the next day.

Wilkie and McNasty smile, before they stand and walk off.

Ladder Match for $100,000 Cash

Fine Wine versus The Uproars

Wrestling’s Undisputed, Deicide & Cesar Salazar, the (Un)disputed Tag Team Champions, join Linzi Martin & Larry Gordon for special guest commentary.

Although a fourteen minute match stipulated under ‘ladder’ rules, this match was relatively conventional. Spots you’d expect from such a showcase, such as Mark McNasty jumping from a top turnbuckle to dropkick a ladder supporting Tony Edison, thus sending him to the outside, but not farther than the barricade. Yes, viewers watched Erik Loomis release powerbomb Alex Wilkie onto a ladder sat on the edge of the apron while the other end rests atop the barricade across, also held steady by a fan, at Erik’s request. Another huge bump came when Erik snuck beneath a climbing McNasty and uppercuts Mark’s groin to halt him, therefore an electric chair were made possible, but Erik waited for Edison to leap off a nearby turnbuckle to missile dropkick McNasty off Loomis’ shoulders! Result being McNasty flew to the outside, tumbling along the ramp at an alarming rate.

Deicide: “If Simon booked us in this match, we’d make it a five star. Not this same-old.”

Cesar Salazar: “These guys aren’t world-class like us, is why.”

The game-changer was a fireman carry stunner by Wilkie to Edison off the very top of the ladder both just finished having a back-and-forth battle of rights, which Wilkie clearly won. The stunner was enough to finish Edison for the rest of the match, to no one’s surprise. While the whole world continued to mark, Wilkie had trouble standing afterward, likely due to his unfit physique and the fact he just fell fifteen feet off the top of a ladder to bring another man down with him. In the end, with only Loomis and McNasty left to retrieve the briefcase, the pair wrestled around for three minutes, as if this were a regular contest. Loomis relied on his boxing background, tapping into a combination of swings you could visualize yourself button-mashing a game controller to achieve. McNasty would eat several crucial shots to the ribcage that nearly kept him down long enough for Loomis to setup a ladder and climb midway, but eventually, McNasty found power to stand and return an uppercut to Loomis’s groin!

Cesar Salazar: “Did you ever low-blow someone in a match?”

Deicide: “Nope.”

Cesar Salazar: “Neither have I.”

Deicide: “Because we’re not unimaginative fucks dirtier than a Guerrero.”

Cesar Salazar: “Guerrero is very famous and beloved in my country.”

Deicide: “He was a great wrestler, yet still halfway.”

Linzi Martin: “In comparison to?”

Larry Gordon: “Them, obviously.”

Deicide: “Correctomundo.”

The final important bump of this match is a full nelson bomb, which McNasty used to force Loomis backward off the tenth rung and into the canvas, harshly. Then, McNasty climbed, unhooked and proudly raised the briefcase full of a total one hundred thousand dollars, to symbolize ‘Fine Wine’s first victory.

Deicide: “That’s likely the most money he’s ever had at once.”

Cesar Salazar: “A working class hero is something to be?”

Deicide: “So they can feast on pork ‘n’ beans, like fat, filthy clones of mongo.”

Hardcore Drinkin’

The Collingwood Football Club theme song hits the Underground Arenas speakers and the crowd comes to life. The REBEL fans seem to be starting to take a real liking to the angry little cunt that is Macca, not to mention the old UX fans that are currently living it up in their old stomping grounds. Macca makes his way out from the back and begins to march his way down to ringside. Stopping only for a moment to grab a six pack off of a fan, Macca grabs a mic before rolling under the bottom rope into the ring. Tearing one of the bottle out of the plastic, Macca pops the lid off of the bottle and takes a swig before lifting the mic to his mouth.

Macca: REBEL hasn’t exactly been kind to me since I made my debut all those weeks ago. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not seen as marketable or it’s just that people don’t like me. Either way it’s starting to get old. One man in particular I thought that I had developed an understanding of mutual respect with was a man who has just recently earned himself a two percent holding of this company and regained his name, Bubba J.

The crowd pop and as they rightly should!

After our first match he came out and congratulated me like a fucking gentleman and said he would like to have a rematch sometime, something that I would have been more than happy to do. Last week however he decided to come out and run his fucking mouth. Is having a name back and owning a bees dick worth of REBEL somehow now make you a big shot or something J? Well luckily for the fans and possibly unluckily for you Bubs, there has never been a time that I have not responded to someone calling me out!

Macca takes another drink from bottle as the crowd begins a duelling chant of ‘Let’s go Macca’ and ‘Bubba J’.

So the ball is in your court now mate. You called me out and here I am. We can either have a chat and discuss this like men over a few coldies-

Macca lifts up the now one lighter six pack of stubbies.

– or you can end up on the ground in a pool of your own blood from a smashed bottle over the skull! So tell me J, what’s it going to be?

The crowd waits, Macca waits, nothing.

“Fuck you.”

This comes from the speakers, but its quickly followed by “Badass” by Saliva as Bubba J, the Ragin’ Redneck himself, comes from the back already holding a microphone and a six pack of Amberbock.

Bubba J:
“You finally decide to come down and answer the summons, like a man.”

He looks around as the UX fans boo loudly, Bubba J only smiles.

Bubba J:
“You come out here with your beer, you try to be like me…”

He steps through the ropes.

Bubba J:
“You think you are some hot shot fucker… but you seem to be doing the same damn thing I did, do, and will always be.”

He looks down at the 5 pack that Macca is now holding.

Bubba J:
“You bring shit beer to your little confrontation… doubt those bottles are even glass.”

J lifts one of his Amberbocks up, placing the carton down on the canvas.

Bubba J:
“Now, this is a beer. This is a real glass bottle. This is a real hard core sombitch that don’t give a shit.”

He laughs right in Macca’s face.

Bubba J:
“But you wanted to sort of call me out on calling you out.”

He chugs some Bock.

Bubba J:
“Don’t say a damn word yet, I’m not finished.”

Another chug.

Bubba J:
“See, then you talk about my dick, like it’s something you’d like to have.”

He laughs as he shakes his head.

Bubba J:
“I’m not strutting around here like I’m some big shot, I’ve just got an… Ace in the Hole” so to speak, something I can use if all else fails. I can strut, I can walk normal, I can win matches, I can lose matches.”

Bubba J tosses the rest back before getting right up in Macca’s face and holding the bottle like a weapon.

Bubba J:
“And I can kick anyone’s ass that gets in my way. Understand that Macca, win or fucking lose, I’m still one of the toughest if not the toughest sumbitches in this arena… your old stomping ground.”

He laughs.

Bubba J:
“I’ll piss on this damn arena, then wipe the drips off my dick right across ya’ll’s precious name. I don’t give a fuck because that is who I am. Give me a beer, give me two beers, give me three beers.. it don’t fucking matter. But what I take exception to is someone coming out here like they know me, thinking they are better than me, thinking they are on the top of the ladder and disrespecting my company… the very fucking company that I helped build up from an indy fed that only ran two to three shows a month.”

A feral grin makes its way onto Macca’s face as he stays right up in Bubba J’s face. There is no give in either of these two men.

I bet once upon a time your fairy tale was true Bubs. You where once the biggest dog in this yard, king of your domain as it where. But guess what? You didn’t know it at the time but you where always keeping that throne warm for the true king, and he has just fucking arrived. And you can get that piss out of my fucking face.

Macca slaps the bottle out of Bubba J’s hand and it flies out of the ring. Oh shit I think it almost hit a kid!

If I wanted something that was as weak as that piss your drinking then I would have a glass of water.

BOOOOOOO! Oh shit Mac don’t turn the fucking American crowd against you!

As for your taking the company from nothing to the top, that’s nothing new for me. I did the same for UX before Salvatore flushed it down the shitter. Everyone was billed as being better than me. Kai Cooper. Gone. Larry Fields. Gone. Mainerishi. Gone. Cesar Salazar. I beat his holiness of wrestling three times in the span of a month. And Sean Robinson? To quote JC himself FUCK YOU SEAN ROBINSON! I don’t think I am better than you Bubba, I know I am better than everyone! And if you want to prove otherwise-

Macca takes a step back out of Bubba J’s face and upturns what remains of his beer bottle onto the middle of the ring before taking one more step back.

– here is your line in the sand. Stop me from crossing it J. Stop me from coming in here and becoming the best thing REBEL has ever seen. Go on, make a point! Before you do anything stupid though just remember what happened a month ago when this cunt got you for three!

This crowd is going nuts and these two men look like they may try and break each other at any second now! Bubba J smirks, then removes another beer out of his remaining five. Cracking the top, he continues to smirk then takes a chug before lighting up a cigarette.

Bubba J:
“King huh? Is that really what you think?”

He spits across Macca’s line.

Bubba J:
“Kings die, new kings are reborn, but the lineage is typically the same.”

He looks Macca up and down, then nods as he takes a drag.

Bubba J:
“And you ain’t from my loins, you ain’t my relation.”

Drag, then slow exhale.

Bubba J:
“You beat me… whoop de fucking do son, a lot of people have beaten me, but none have ever broke me. You can’t, you ain’t, and well…”

A smile.

Bubba J:
“It was fucking fun in that match, like I said most fun in a long time.”

He walks over to the spilled beer line, pouring his own on as well, never taking his eyes off Macca.

Bubba J:
“That’s why we ain’t from the same line, but we are two of the toughest bastards to ever step into a ring.”

He indicates the crowd, and the little kid that was hit by the bottle, he sneakily tries to get some drops out of the bottle.

Bubba J:
“That’s why some boo.”

Of course that part boos.

Bubba J:
“Some cheer”

They do cheer.

Bubba J:
“Some just pick their gawd damn nose.”

We don’t wanna know.

He looks down at the now empty beer bottle, tossing it… yup, it hits an elderly lady right in the nose, busting it at the very least; J doesn’t care and neither does Macca.

Bubba J:
“You poured a line in the sand so to speak. I added mine to it.”

He steps in the puddle, Macca follows; both grin.

Bubba J:
“And that’s why we are the tag team known as the Toughest Bastards!”

They both grab a beer bottle, then clink before chugging them both down.

Bubba J:
“Beer drinkin’!”

Hell Raisin’!

They both smirk.

“And ass kickin’”

Saliva’s ‘Badass’ hits the PA once more as the newly formed Toughest Bastards continue to celebrate in the ring.

Larry Gordon:
God damn it! I thought Macca was going to kick that drunkards head in! What a crock of shit!

Linzi Martin:
Well like it or not Larry, these two men seem to now be on the same page and considering what they are both able to do as singles wrestlers they may just take this tag division by storm. Only time will tell on that one though.

Larry Gordon:

Bubba and Macca start to take their party up the ramp and out to the back. The fans cheer them out as we fade to……


We fade backstage where Sean Robinson is just about ready for his match tonight.

“From the flames comes rebirth. That’s the story of the phoenix. The mythical bird that immolates itself at the end of its life cycle, then is reborn anew from the ashes of its own death.

My life here in REBEL has felt like that at times. I started my professional career here, before moving on to bigger and better things in UX. That’s where I made my name. I became Uncensored champion, then I became Undipsuted. Then I redefined what the word Undisputed meant. And then Mainerishi shoved my face into the flames. My career and my life, nearly extinguished in that moment. When I woke up, I couldn’t believe I was alive. My first thought after that, though, was ‘When can I get back in the ring?’ I wanted it. I needed it. This business is my life. Breathing and wrestling are on equal footing in my list of priorities.

So now comes my rebirth. From the ashes of my title reign, my UX career, and the Underground Arena. Here I am, back where it all began, and back on top of it all. On December 17th, in Montreal, seventy-five thousand screaming fans will watch me decimate the so-called Phoenix. But tonight, in these friendly confines, I get to roast Jonathan Cage. It all comes full circle, now.”

We fade to ringside…

Face The Fire Inferno Match

Sean Robinson versus Jonathan Cage

Wrestling’s Undisputed, Deicide & Cesar Salazar, the (Un)disputed Tag Team Champions, join Linzi Martin & Larry Gordon for special guest commentary.

Cage’s entrance wasn’t aired due to him being a big jobber, as of late. So he came out during commercial break, so viewers at home needn’t feel their time was wasted. Robinson, the guy who’s recently beaten blood out of Bubba J, tears out of Anna Mathews and the piss out of Jeremy Gold, on the other hand, got everyone’s attention the second “Amazing (heartbeats remix)” kicked in. Alongside Robbo is Paul Alba, the manager of Wrestling’s Undisputed, who comes out holding a sign which reads, “Wrestling’s Undisputed = truer Pantheon” in spite of Robbo’s ‘Merry Time Massacre’ opponent, The Phoenix.

Deicide: “You fought Cage to become UX’s first Undisputed Champion, right, Cees?”

Cesar Salazar: “I did. It was easy.”

Many technical wrestlers boast knowledge of and threaten to twist a person like a pretzel, but Robinson legitimizes his claim by means of a tilt-a-whirl headscissors takedown transitioned into a single arm DDT floated over into a fujiwara armbar! An over rotated step-over toe-hold sleeper and a seated over-the-shoulder single-leg Boston crab were done just because he could. Effortlessly, Robbo’s hat trick of seven back-to-back tiger suplexes humbled Cage to the point of unconsciousness. From there, Robbo dragged Cage by his hair toward the flames generated by machinery on all four corners of the apron. Similar to Robinson’s own stare into the flaming abyss back at Blacklist 40, Cage sits on his knees, dazedly. During this, Robinson runs across the ring and rebounds to dropkick the back of Cage’s head, sending the bastard flying through the ropes and past the flames! However, Cage’s lengthy, greasy hair caught fire!

Almost on cue, Paul Alba tosses black shades into the ring, which Robbo catches and then puts on.

Sean Robinson: “You’re fired.”


The Who’s “Baba O’Riley” suddenly becomes Sean Robinson’s outro song. Alba, Robbo, Deicide and Salazar regroup at the ramp as Wrestling’s Undisputed; the tag belts raised by the undisputed tag champs, and Alba motioning for the world championship around Robbo’s waist.

The Legendary Legacary and Friends!

The beginning to “All of the lights” by Kanye West sounds up as out steps none other than “The Chosen One” Justin Case. Proceeding by his side is his pony tailed plus sized manager, The Wiz.

But right away we notice something very different.

Linzi Martin: Now what is this?! Who is that hanging off the arm of Justin Case?! He’s not even scheduled to be out here!

Larry Gordon: Maybe if you calm down we will get some answers.

And there it is. Susan Boyle hanging off the arm of “The Chosen One” as Legendary Legacary makes his talented way to the REBEL PRO squared circle.

Mic in hand.

Case jumps up on the apron and opens the ropes for Susan Boyle as she enters the ring wearing something you would never expect her to wear. With The Wiz on one side dressed in his suit, Case is dressed in his ring attire, while a twisted smiling Susan Boyle hangs from off Case’s arm.

Linzi Martin: Look at that hooker looking tramp! She has on a black leather jacket, a black t-shirt reading “Cum with me!” in white lettering! Her cleavage leaves nothing to desire as her playboy ear rings hang to her shoulders, with a wide skin tight short skirt and long black heel’s on. Fuck me!

Larry Gordon: I think thats what she’s going for.

In the center of the ring Case puts his mic up to his lips as his music dies off.

Justin Case: Ever since I came back to REBEL PRO WRESTLING, I have dominated my competition!

The arena ignites with boos! People begin to throw garbage inside the ring.

Justin Case: From when I destroyed the corporate suit wearing doped up douchbag, in Jeremy Gold. As then I took a former World Champion and forced him to his knees, in Jonathan Cage. Moving up the ranks by dismantling a man who’s girl I just took from him. And now everyone, I’d like you all to meet my new Valet….Susan Boyle!

Susan is all smiles as she twirls for the camera.

Justin Case: Look at what I have created!

Susan Boyle takes the mic as the boos linger.

Susan Boyle: Shut the hell up!

Wow, that came from her? She smiles as the boos get louder.

Susan Boyle: For years I have been stuck inside this little box, that my people have placed me in, for the sake of my music. But now? Now I get to call my own shots, and Case? Baby, along with The Wiz we will go undefeated! You now have double the back up, and double the pleasure. If you know what I mean.

Linzi Martin: Gross!

Larry Gordon: Yep!

Boyle brushes off her bottom lip as she hands over the mic to her new boy toy.

Justin Case: Next thing I’d like to mention is this. You see, knowing full well I have another match tonight versus Jake Norton, I am not only prepared, but last week on Super Aggression, on his own turf I embarassed him by using Susan Boyle as a means to defeat Norton. In doing so I have altered Jake Norton’s future inside REBEL PRO WRESTLING forever!

The boos begin to quiet down.

Justin Case: You see, I now have proof. If you all are wondering why Jake Norton was fired from Underground X. Among a shit load of other reasons, I now have proof of the real reason Jake Norton was let go from his contract in UX Wrestling. The proof will come in due time. Right now all you need to know is this. Jake Norton was fired because he was caught betting on Underground X matches for money! And who’s to say he won’t start betting on REBEL PRO matches? Now we all know we cant have that going down within a licensed professional organization. So now what?


Justin Case: Soon the proof will come. I can promise you all that. But tonight I will show Jake Norton a thing or two on how to lose.

LL pauses.

Justin Case: You can bet on it.

The new threesome laughs out loud as we go to commercial.

Merry Time Massacre 2012: Blood in the Snow

We fade in to an overhead view of the Olympic Stadium in Montreal, Quebec Canada at night with the island city’s night sky lit up behind the giant dome with snow falling over the island as “Skyfall” by Adele begins to play…

This is the end…
Hold your breath, and count to ten…

A flash over the screen, and The Phoenix is seen in the stands watching from high above within the empty Olympic Stadium, both the AoWF and REBEL Pro World titles one on each shoulder. Grainy black and white images are laced in the background and we see The Phoenix standing victorious over Marvin Wood with both the AoWF World and his then newly won REBEL Pro World title. As they fade we see them showing The Phoenix’s first “win” of the REBEL Pro World Championship. We see The Phoenix stand up amongst the seats, looking down towards the ring with anticipation.

Feel the earth move…
And then hear my heart burst again…

Flash. Sean Robinson stands before us, inside the ring in the grand Olympic Stadium. We close in on him and he delivers his trademark smirk as he looks up into the stands. As we fade, there are more grainy black and white images laced into the background showing Sean Robinson capturing the REBEL Pro Carolina’s Championship a few years ago along with his recent triumphs as UX Undisputed Champion. Sean Robinson climbs the turnbuckle in the empty ring, and points skyward as the dome above him opens.

For this is the end…
I’ve drowned and dreamed this moment…

A quick flash brings us to The Legendary Legacary himself, standing tall and proud with his arms crossed. Susan Boyle to his right, The Wiz to his left. Behind them are more grainy black and white images, showing the days of Justin Case’s two reigns as REBEL Pro World Champion and the look in his eye now that says he’s heading back to the top.

So overdue I owe them…
Swept away, I’m stolen…

Among her are the various puppets we’ve all come to love, as Anna stands outside the Olympic Stadium admiring the structure. She smiles, waving for the camera as both her REBEL Pro Aggression and Tag Team titles shine with the fresh snow falling over them. As she steps forward towards the Stadium, we can see the images of her many great victorious in REBEL Pro laced in the background around her with the lasting image of her bloodied face and broken body. Anna just shakes her head and suddenly she and those affectionately dubbed No Sellers Anonymous disappear leaving us with falling snow.

Let the skyfall, when it crumbles…
We will stand tall, or face it all together…

He takes a deep breath, perched above the entire area above the world’s tallest inclined tower connected to the Olympic Stadium, dubbed the Monteal Tower, and flicks some ash down. Simon looks up, sadness yet readiness in his eyes as the grainy black and white images laced around him show us some of the bloodiest moments in his career. The one that lingers is Riona Langly crushing his eye in the Glass Chamber, but Simon still holding the PWA World title with it covered in his blood… He flicks his cigarette away and lowers his head.

Let the skyfall, when it crumbles…
We will stand tall, or face it all together…

Adrian steps out of a cab, with Lacey Gloria right behind him. They both notice the footsteps of tiny puppets and Anna Mathews, and how they suddenly stop in the snow. He smirks as they walk hand in hand toward the arena. Around them are images from Adrian Kalis’ career; grainy, black and white which show him executing Fley of the Masters of Armageddon with Matt Stone by his side, ending the MoA’s war and cementing The Order of Chaos’ victory earlier this year. The laced images pause with Fley’s head being cracked in half, with one more shot of Adrian Kalis holding the AoWF Television up. He enters the arena with Lacey Gloria, ignoring us and showing he has but one intention in mind…

At Skyfall…
That skyfall…

Voiceover featuring Ron Pearlman: REBEL Pro presents, Merry Time Massacre 2012. Live, from the Olympic Stadium in Montreal, Quebec Canada. There will be blood on the snow.

Everything begins fading to black…

Voiceover featuring Ron Pearlman: War… War never changes…

To The World, V

Unlike previous segments, when we return from an advertisement teasing ‘Merry Time Massacre’, viewers alike are treated to a voice that booms throughout the arena, without notice.

Jake Norton: “Wrestlers believe in this curse that if they don’t cut a promo, it’s almost as if an automatic loss happens. Quite silly, really, but last week, maybe I was cursed. After all, I didn’t cut a promo, but that’s because I felt there wasn’t much to share that I haven’t touched on already. Few weeks ago, Justin Case and I battled in a ‘First Blood’ match that saw me, well, crack him with a wacky bat given to me by Bubba J. Case bled out and I emerged victorious, to the surprise of no one.”

During that paragraph of confession, Norton has passed through the curtains, came down the ramp and is now currently sitting on a barricade, facing a section of tonight’s audience.

Jake Norton: “I thought Case and I were done, at that point. But Simon Kalis saw us both fit to compete for a contendership at adorable Anna’s Aggression strap. And you know? That’s cool. I’d been down for that. Even though for a little over a month I’ve been preaching about defining a World Champion, that’s what every smart wrestler is supposed to do, coz that’s not just the primary prize but ultimate goal of all spandex-wearing cunts. But many people tend to overlook the social significance of a secondary belt. Sometimes it appears to just be there for others who’re not capable of headlining or drawing crowds, such as Justin Case; to keep them happy, so to speak.”

Falling backward off the barricade, Norton flips onto his feet, safely. Opting to now walk around ringside, Norton’s pace is at one a person at the beach would walk, possibly at sunset or something similarly cheesy.

Jake Norton: “But, no. The Aggression Championship doesn’t have to be seen as only a launch pad or stepstool, or whatever it is critics refer to it as. Look at Anna Mathews, a former world heavyweight champion that treats the Aggression belt just as valuable. Though that might be simply coz it shines, so she sees no difference, but regardless, that equivalence is welcomed. The Aggression could be used to define a division, to create a purpose, or develop a reputation. Who knows? That depends on who beholds.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Norton looks at the cameraman following him.

Jake Norton: “I tell you all my opinion because I do wish I didn’t fuck up last week. See, even though I’m the ‘cancerous bastard’ who likes ‘stirring the pot’ and brainbustering old people –“

Crowd pops for that.

Jake Norton: “I have, I’d say, respectable and knowledgeable ideas and beliefs. I’m not close-minded, which explains why I can be so damn radical. And lately, the businessman mindset has given me an undefeated streak. Sadly, I should say ‘had’. Again, we come full circle to last week’s consequence. Earlier I mentioned a curse and how some reckon – like Linzi Martin- it affected me. “

Off-screen yet still audible, we hear Linzi chip in with “I did tell him that” to Gordon.

Jake Norton: “And she’s wrong. There is no curse. I was warned about Susan Boyle’s attempt, by the ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ runner-up herself.”

Norton exaggerates a gasp of shock.

Jake Norton: “How dense is that? She wasn’t vague about it at all. Wait, here, I’ve brought the letter with me.”

Removing a paper that’s been visibly pressed between his hip and orange colored spandex for this entire promo, Norton unfolds it and starts to read.

Jake Norton: “To Jake Norton. You think you’re really clever, don’t you, Mister Norton? Or should I call you Mister Cheater! That’s right, Norton. The whole world knows you couldn’t have beaten Justin Case without Bubba’s aid. How would you like it if someone hit you on the head with an aluminum baseball bat from barbwire hell? Maybe you ought to find out, Mister Cheater. My mother used to tell me – this was before she died and left me with a house of cats that I fucking despise, so I starve them for fun and only feed them crumbs, mind you – she had eyes in the back of her head. Well, Mister lazy-eye, cheating fuck! You better pray to the Old Gods that you can borrow yourself a pair for this week. Let’s just say I got me a front row ticket to Misgivings. And it’s not to promote my upcoming album ‘Standing Ovation’ available in stores everywhere now! Sincerely, a rather talented fan of godly talent, unlike you.”

Looking up from the paper, Norton’s eyes scan the indifferent crowd.

Jake Norton: “Yeah, well. Turns out the Old Gods are cheaters, too. I gave them my faith and in return, nothing! How appropriate. So, I never saw that crazy bat coming. Actually, I did, up on the jumbo screen, but, you know what I mean. But anyway, that’s why I lost last week. Not because of some dumb curse. Simply over Susan Boyle interfering; though, it’d be hypocritical of me to complain since once upon a time I’d have done the same underhanded tactic to ensure I won, too. Yet, that’s when I was a slimy, apprehensive worm. Sort of like Justin Case is today, except he excels at overrating himself.”

Sliding inside the ring finally, when Norton stands, he points skyward to the steel cage that has yet to descend.

Jake Norton: “This is where the steel cage comes into play. After waking up hospitalized last week, I was pissed. Seriously, Justin Case successfully pissed me the fuck off. Throughout recent days in social media, we have people left and right crediting Justin Case as the guy who ended my undefeated streak; “a monumental feat” they say, yet blatantly ignoring the interference. Oh well, that’s the media spinning stories as they please, eh? The thing is I don’t want Justin Case heading to ‘Merry Time Massacre’ with that unfounded ‘pure’ victory on his shoulder. People must never forget that Justin Case is unfathomably stupid and should never be allowed to hold anything prestigious.”

A short pause follows, and then a chuckle.

Jake Norton: “Even though he’s already held the REBEL World Heavyweight Championship, twice. Anyway, Simon Kalis agreed to book a steel cage match so we can settle this dispute once and for all. These fifteen feet high walls of steel ensure that there will be zero outside involvement. To be fair, this isn’t only because crazy Susan Boyle is in attendance, but we all know that Bubba J has a very deep hatred for you. Seriously, that guy sneaks ways to mention you into his promos every week, it seems. Then again, it has become unnecessarily essential to take a shit on you so people don’t fucking forget you are awful and need to stay put in the jobbing category of Jeremy Golden.”

That drew a lot of laughs.

Jake Norton: “Technically, Justin, neither of us has defeated each other in the traditional sense. I’m looking to fix that. No more usage of baseball bats between us. As moronic as this is, I need to fucking prove I can pin you for the one-two-three. That is how I’ll redeem my embarrassing loss to you. The boring truth is, yes, you absolutely suck, and even when I pin you, it’s not going to drastically improve my career. Hell, it won’t even be considered a win, by slang sense. It’s just fucking expected. Still, even if the critics won’t be writing home about me dropping you on your brain-damaged head, I’m going to give you all I got, because that’s what I preach. A World Champion performs topnotch and delivers unparalleled quality because it’s expected of someone who wants to represent a company, an industry, and a profession, no matter who stands across.”

The cage is now starting to lower.

Jake Norton: “That’s just the general idea of a World Champion. Me, I got vision. Me as World Champion will be more graphic and foul, just as REBEL likes it. I think it’s time I start revealing this image by pounding your cunt so hard, it’d be as if my fists were aluminum bats covered in barbwire. And that takes talent.”

Tossing the microphone to referee John Chellios, Norton watches the cage settle atop the apron and awaits the ever so talented, Justin Case.

Cage Match: Norton V. Case III

Jake Norton versus Justin Case

The last image of the promotional video is still bright in the arena as the lights begin to brighten slowly, the last words echo still in the ears of the fans. The entire arena is buzzing from the anticipation of the cage match set to take place as they notice that there is something surrounding the entire ringside area, except for that of the announcers’ table; which has been set outside of the massive cage. The structure is made of cage wire, with several strands of barbed wire woven in for both effect, looks, and the obvious flesh tearing that is set to take place. At the top of the cage is strands of razor wire, looped as though this was a prison, which in some aspects it is. Several weapons hang from loops on the cage, hammers, chairs, kendo sticks, bats, lead pipes, and a rubber duck are among the items, though more are there as well.

Linzi Martin: What a massive structure, one of these men may not walk out alive.

Larry Gordon: Don’t be so over dramatic, it is so woman-like of you.

The door of the cage sits at the bottom of the ramp, open and waiting on the two combatents.

Linzi Martin: These two men will not leave the Den of Damnation the same way they walked in.

Larry Gordon: Do you have fake tits?

Linzi Martin: I’ll sue you for sexual harrassment if you mention that again.

Larry Gordon: Just something to pass the time, just curious.

Linzi Martin: To those hot guys with lots of money, unlike my broadcast partner who is no longer majority holder in Rebel Pro stock, they are real all the way.

Larry Gordon: all two inches worth.

Linzi Martin: Is that what your wife said Larry?

The banter is cut off as the lights dim again, showing several clips, in a very fast paced video package, of the matches, past words, and confrontations between Justin Case and Jake Norton. As the video package comes to an end, its replaced with Case vs Norton III Den of Damnation… fading into a live shot of the arena with the focal point being the cage.
Jenny Jersey: The following match is the Den of Damnation, with only one winner, only one loser, and the way to win the match will be revealed after enough blood has been shed from these two.

The crowd roars their approval.

Jenny Jersey: Introducing first!

“E.T”‘s theme begins to play.

Jenny Jersey: Jake Norton!

Jake is already in the ring, because he doesn’t have a cool entrance like most of the cool kids.

” Victory ” by P Diddy and company hits the P.A. Out comes ” The Millennium Game ” Justin Case! He stands at the entrance way, with his manager behind him, as pyro shoots on either side while he raises his oh so talented arms in the very talented air! Case struts down the ramp as Hugh Aredone limpingly lingers behind. He struts to the squared circle with a cockily arrogance that only he can endeavor. Once from inside the ring, he steps to the second turnbuckle and poses for the crowd on hand. Whether they like him or not, it does not matter. His manager hits his cane on the apron showing his approval. Jumping off the ropes he prepares for the match pulling on the upper rope as his music ends.

Ding Ding Ding Ding

Both men circle in the cage, wanting to keep away from the flesh tearing carnage, but wanting to get close enough to throw their opponent in there as quickly as possible. Collar and elbow, Jake with a go behind. Case goes to fall forward, but balances on one foot, spins, throwing Norton(who is still clinging to Case) against the cage wall!

Larry Gordon: First blood!

Norton winces, coming down, Case charges in, Jake drop toe hold sends Case face first onto a tack covered turnbuckle!

Linzi Martin: Case with a face full of tacks!

Case yells at the pain of the pin holes, pulling himself off and dripping blood from the wounds. He spins around, Jake with a big boot, but Case ducks under, tripping him up nailing him with an uppercut to the chin. Norton stumbles back, Case presses his advantage with a right, left, right right right, left left, right combinatio and Norton is on the wrong end of that is in a world of hurt and here comes Case pressing his advantage with a running knee. Norton lifts his body, driving both feet right into Case’s snarling face; it rocks him back on his heels. Norton charges in with a clothesline and tackles Case down to the mat where both roll around throwing punches, kicking, and possibly biting as nothing seems to have been solved here in this match, nor in the past two that they’ve had. Case with a punch, Norton with one of his own, Case retaliates, but Norton isn’t outdone when he lands a meaty fist to Case’s right eye.

Linzi Martin: They are like kids on the playground!

Larry Gordon: But with tons of fans and weaponry to aid them in this fight.

Norton with a shot right to Case’s “dice” gets him a snarling advantage as well. Case is bleeding, Norton is bleeding, but neither seems to want this to end in the other’s favor. Norton pulls him up, whipping him into a broken glass corner, Case screams from the sudden sharp pain and stumbles out clutching at his back as Norton grins saddistically. Norton charges in, Case slices his chest with a piece of glass from his recently violated back, Norton stumbles back from the onslaught with the deadly weapon. Case looks like a man on a mission of destruction and terror, or much more like a homeless guy looking to mug Norton of his win; which is likely the Case, except for the homeless bit.

Linzi Martin: What savagry!

Larry Gordon: You like it, you always have.

Linzi Martin: Damn right! WOOOOOOOOOO!

Case charges in again, Norton catches the wrist, ducking under into a half-nelson. He drops down, but Case rolls over, causing Jake to land on his back knocking the wind out of him. Case is up, kicking Norton right in the head for good measure before taking a steel c hair off the cage and coming back to slide it under the ring and follow it in. Case winds up, smashing Jake in the head with a golf swing, trying to make a hole in one, but he’s about six feet from the green.

Larry Gordon: What a shot!

Linzi Martin: I think Jake may be done. How can you win this match?

Larry Gordon: Unfortunately the acting Commissioner hasn’t revealed that yet.

Linzi Martin: Oh, you aren’t the acting Commissioner?

Larry Gordon: …

Case sets the chair up, going for his finisher onto the chair, but Jake trips him up, coming up and firing that slice of glass right into Case’s side. Case spins from the pain and Norton launches himself at Case, bulldoging him through the ropes and to the outside! Norton is up somewhat quickly fighting on sheer instinct, as that shot to the head should have knocked him out; his eyes are glazed anyways. Norton whips Case into the cage, back to the apron, where he rubs his face across the barbed wire there, probably making his face a scarred mass for Susan. Norton lifts Justin up, suplex onto the debris strewn floor.


Linzi Martin: C4 explosive!

Larry Gordon: Money, money, money… that isn’t cheap you know.

Both men are shocked, burned, and beaten, but the match still continues until the word of how to finish it comes down. Norton is barely able to pull himself up, Case is much the same in fact Justin hasn’t moved yet. Norton stumbles away to the ring, pulling out a table from underneath that is already wrapped in wire, light tubes, tacks, glass, and a rubber chicken leg. Norton grabs the leg, tossing it behind him to land on the still unconscious Case before he pulls out a ladder, a can of lighter fluid, and a box of matches. Case begins to slowly get up, rolling over then pulling himself up with the help of the ring apron. Norton is setting up the table and preparing it like he’s going to roast Case for Thanksgiving! Case is up to his knees, woozy from the large amount of blood loss, and here comes Jake over to do some more damage. Norton bends down, Case hits him with the chicken leg! It explodes right into Jake’s face causing him to spin around in circles clawing at his eyes and actually screaming from the pain as the heat is extremely intense.

Linzi Martin: C4 again?

Larry Gordon: Not sure, but it was definitely a bang.

Linzi Martin: Just Too Talented! Right into the damn burning table!

Larry Gordon: But a pin can’t take place, there is no idea of what it takes to win this match!

Case falls into the flames as well, but they are put ot for the most part, thanks to the quick response of the Jimmy Johnson volunteer Fire Department, the one man crew that it is. Jake is burnt, broken, bloody; Case is the exact same, and neither man is moving at this point. Johnson is helpless to do anything else, but check if they are still alive, when Case begins to stir or at least his fingers clench in a stiff looking motion. Johnson steps back and nods that they are still alive, t hough he looks a bit worried that no word has come from the back about how to proceed to obtain a winner. Jake is moving, Justin is moving, both are hesitantly and ever so slowly moving to their feet.

Linzi Martin: Sorry fans, but there is no action to call, they are still struggling up to just their knees.

Larry Gordon: This match is going to destroy one of them, but neither will be the same; this is definitely a feud ender!

Linzi Martin: Maybe not, they do have a lot of hatred for one another.

Both are up, their flesh cooked and the blood that had ran is now dry, though fresh blood still seeps from the numerous wounds on both men. Case with a right, Norton with one of his own, though neither has power behind it and the hits are less than effective on even a wet paper bag. Both fall back and shake their head before stumbling towards each other to exchange furious rights; they fall back from each other, not much left in the tank for either man. Case charges in, Norton with a back body sends him into the ladder, it falls up against the cage wall, Norton begins to climb towards something in the top level of the cage. Reaching up, he grabs a set of firecrackers and smiles before Case moves and causes Norton to slam first into the cage then fall backwards to land back first in the ring; the firecrackers still in his grasp.

Larry Gordon: What a fall!

Linzi Martin: I think he broke Norton!

Justin is struggling up, crawling his way to the ring, then under the apron as he is blinded by the blood in his face. Case grabs something, pulling out two sheets of glass then slides them into the ring, before gasping for breath as he leans on the apron. Case forces himself up to prop the sheets of glass on two chairs, before placing the second sheet on another set of chairs on top of the first level.

Linzi Martin: This doesn’t look good, not at all.

Larry Gordon: Not for Norton anyways, its just what he deserves though, filthy Ux’er.

Case slides back out, gingerly as he’s a mass of torn flesh to get the ladder; then he struggles, but manages to get it back into the ring.

Linzi Martin: Just Too Talented from the top of that ladder?

Larry Gordon: Then there will be no choice only to stop the match, no way this could continue.

Jeremy Gold: The winner of the match must keep his opponent from answering a thirteen count.

Larry Gordon: A thirteen?

Linzi Martin: Its unlucky for most.

Case smiles as he lifts himself up one more rung, on his way to the top of the ladder. Norton looks up, kicking the ladder with every single thing he can muster; Case reaches up, holding onto the barbed wire cage.


Case falls, shoulder and neck first through the table!

Linzi Martin: Norton is somehow up to his feet!

Larry Gordon: Case is dead! He’s got to be dead!

Jimmy Johnson begins his count.


Norton is out on his feet, his head lowered and blood pouring from all of his wounds.




Case isn’t moving at all, only shallow breaths.

Linzi Martin: At the very least he’s got broken ribs!



Susan is crying large tears on the outside.



Ding Ding Ding

Jenny Jersey: Winner of the match… Jake Norton!

“E.T”‘s theme begins to play again.

The Sacrifice

“Welcome Home” starts to play on the arena’s speakers as REBEL Pro World champion, the Phoenix comes out. He’s wearing his AOWF World title belt around his waist. Notably, the REBEL Pro belt is nowhere to be seen. The champ walks to the ring, basking in the boos of the crowd. These people hate him nearly as much as he hates them. Not even close to how much he hates REBEL Pro, though.

The Phoenix: You know, my match tonight, I think it perfectly embodies everything that’s wrong with this company. Here I am, the greatest wrestler and the biggest star this sport has ever known and what does REBEL Pro do with me? They throw an endless stream of no named losers at me. Is the plan to bore me so badly that I eventually lose the title by getting pinned while I take a nap?

The Phoenix: But that’s not what’s really bothering me. What I can’t stand is that I’ve stated time and time again that my one and only goal in life is the complete and utter destruction of the AOWF. That’s all I want. But REBEL Pro seems intent on destroying itself before I get a chance to.

The Phoenix: So I guess that just means I’ve got to step my time table up a bit. I’ve been taking things slowly lately. I wanted to let the suspense build, let people start to worry more. But I’ll be damned if I let you destroy yourself before I get to. For weeks now, the AOWF has seen me and my friends attack people. You’ve seen me tearing down Jethro Hayes with match after match of brutality.

The Phoenix: So tonight I’ll start things in earnest. Tonight what I do… what I have to do to Bubba J… That’s on all of you. It didn’t have to happen this way. I could have kept up with the slow build, but my hand has been forced. Tonight, there will be a sacrifice and the blood that I spill will be all…your…fault.

The Phoenix drops the microphone and heads backstage.

Out of The Furnance…

Bubba J:
“Out of the Furnace and into the Flame”

“Ya like that little play on words there? As if any of you fuckers actually read the titles, you just wanna watch us cuss, drink beer, shoot birds, bleed, make others bleed…”

He chuckles.

“Damn, sounds like a typical Rebel Pro show, but more importantly a Bubba J match.”

The camera lightens to show Bubba J sitting on a bar stool inside of Hardcore Drinking, a bottle of Jack Daniels beside him and an ashtray that Heidi should probably empty, if he’d stop putting butts in there.

“Hiya Phoenix.”

He waves the cigarette around in a genial wave.


He smirks, tapping the ash.

“I’ll get to your ass in a minute, but first there are some things that Sean Robinson must know.”

A loud belch and he rubs his stomach.

“Sean, its true Bobby Lee almost beat me and if he hadn’t hit himself in the nuts… he may just have known that. You aired that out like its some early breaking news on the Fox News show, like its something we didn’t already know, most importantly like I didn’t know it either… fuckhead. But what you failed to even mention in passing, something that everyone else with a gram sized brain knew… is the sumbitch was hyped up on steroids that Larry Gordon was feeding to him like candy.”

A raised eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you mention that Sean? I mean, you tried to make me look weak, but you failed to state the gawd damned obvious… and that sir… is why you are a bonefied fuckhead.”

He waves his fingers at the camera.

“Now go on and brag about how you beat Bubba J. Brag about how you get a shot at the Rebel Pro World Champion. Brag until your throat is sore like you’ve been blowing cock to get things, because that is the only gawd damned way you could ever be the longest reigning champion, unless the event is sticking your nose up an asshole at the top of the pecking order. Damn, you’ve got to be a bigger fuckhead than Phoenix, who’s waiting in the wings for his chance to be mentioned like a first grader waiting to know if his pink duck will get him an “A” in the class or if’ll he have to repeat because there are no pink fucking ducks.”

He smirks.

“But don’t go far Sean, this with you and me is far from over. I did not fail to notice that you mentioned nothing about how you failed to make the Extreme Elite group… fuckhead.”

Another smirk, a tap of the ash, its nearly finished.

“Now to my favorite bird brain.”

He chokes down a shot of Jack, wincing then sighing.

“Damn, nearly choked on saying that, forgive me but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to say that… especially to think of you being the Rebel Pro World Champion.”

A glint in his eyes.

“And I already know that you don’t have the balls to put that title on the line, I know you are too prideful, after being burned so many times, to do that.”

He nods.

“So I’m not even going to bother. I’m going to list a few things here Phoenix, I’m going to get a few things off my chest.”

He looks down, putting out the cigarette and lighting up another quickly.

“I don’t like you, not many people do, and its doubtful that anyone believes your vision for a a rebirth of anything.”

A shake of his head.

“It isn’t like you are a blind guy with a different kind of vision. You are a fucktard, with nothing really but a strap that belongs on pretty much anyone but yourself and how you managed to obtain it… I’ll never know.”

A smirk.

“If you want me to list the ways I’m going to legally destroy you in the ring, you are dead wrong and its time for you to be reborn from the ashes…”

He taps an ash.

“But I don’t see that happenening, you are way past gone and into the land of insane that not even therapy would do a damn thing but waste your money. But it doesn’t get any easier this week buddy, old pal.”

Another chug of liquor.

“Cause the chances are pretty heavily in the favor of a concussion.”

A chug.

“A bit of flesh tearing.”

Another shot.

“A bit of whining.”


“A chair.”


“And maybe some weapons.”


“Maybe some fire.”

Shot and a smirk around the bottle before a drag on the cigarette.

“Because Phoenix, I’m going to wrap you up and bake you like the turkey that was forgotten in the freezer. I lost to Sean, I’ve lost to others, you’ve lost to other people, you’ve bled. I’ve bled.”

He snickers darkly.

“But you haven’t bled like you are going to bleed this week.”

He nods.

“Hold your wife close, kiss her good-bye, because the next morning… you’ll have so many holes in your flesh that she’ll be able to use you to water her flower garden.”



Non-Title Match

Bubba J versus The Phoenix

Jenny Jersey: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first!

The chorus of Saliva’s “Badass” hits up in the speakers and the Rebel-tron stays pictureless.

“Cause I’m a badass
And you don’t want to clash
Cause your mouth’s writing checks that your face can’t cash
Cause I’m a badass
And this war is your last
You just crossed my path and I’ll drop you fast”
The song transitions to the first verse.

“I need you to hear this loud and clear”

As the first lyric begins to play from Saliva’s “Badass”, Bubba J walks from the back and stares out to the crowd, his fists wrapped in tape and then dipped in broken glass.

“The line and the sand is drawn and I have no fear
When I see red all I need is a reason to set me off
To drop this bomb and pick yourself off the ground”

He slowly begins to walk down the ramp, just staring into the ring, in his own “zone” he pays very little attention to anything surrounding him. No fireworks, nothing spectacular, nothing flashy; just music and him walking.

JENNY JERSEY: From Durham, North Carolina; he stands at six feet and two inches while weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds… “The Ragin’ Redneck” Bubba J!

Bubba J steps up the ring steps before climbing through the ropes. Bubba J then steps over to his corner, facing the entrance ramp and waiting on the damn match to begin.

“Cause I’m a badass
And you don’t want to clash
Cause your mouth’s writing checks that your face can’t cash
Cause I’m a badass
And this war is your last
You just crossed my path and I’ll drop you fast.”

Jenny Jersey: And his opponent!

The arena lights shut off and several seconds of silence pass. Then, in the darkness an old man’s voice begins to sing…

Oh Death
Oh Death
Won’t you spare me over ’til another year?

Pyro explodes around the entrance ramp and stage area. As the flash from the lights fade, we see a figure standing there in a long black robe, his face hidden behind the large hood. In his hand is a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. As the fires continue to burn along the ramp, the figure advances to the ring. As he passes each fire, it extinguishes. Finally, he reaches the ring steps and climbs in before pulling back the hood, revealing the Phoenix, wearing a new black and white mask instead of his normal black and red.

Jenny Jersey: He is the Alliance of Wrestling Federations and REBEL Pro World Heavyweight Champion… THE PHOENIX!


And we’re off, with Bubba J immediately lunging at The Phoenix and throwing heavy lefts and rights towards the champ in quick succession. The fans are immediately on their feet, cheering as Bubba grabs The Phoenix by the head and pulls him down, while simultaneously bringing his knee up and cracking Phoenix in the face. He pummels The Phoenix into the corner turnbuckles before Phoenix slides down with a number of haymaker punches, his head resting on the middle turnbuckle as Bubba begins stomping down on Phoenix’s chest and head to the enjoyment of the fans. Bubba J with two middle fingers for Phoenix before going for another stomp but Phoenix rolls his head out of the way along the turnbuckles and ropes before slipping himself out of the ring. The Phoenix keels forward, clutching his reddened chest and throat before looking back up into the ring and shaking his head. Bubba J yells obscenities at the REBEL Pro World Champion, but the Phoenix ignores him and remains on the outside of the ring.

Larry Gordon: No count outs. If that raging bastard wants Phoenix he’ll have to go out and get him.

Linzi Martin: Looks like Bubba heard ya Larry.

Bubba J slides out of the ring and begins giving chase to The Phoenix. Phoenix grabs the time keeper at ringside

QUALITY. All your cool this thing con. Tried pharmacy canada university Buy on: than home. I which us. Scent. I douse pharmacy in canada skin from very an dry application at.

and shoves her in front of another haymaker from Bubba just in time, making Bubba knock her out cold. Bubba checks on her quickly but looks to Phoenix, who incidentally has grabbed the bell and chucks it at Bubba. Bubba gets cracked in the face and hits the ground, and this is when Phoenix moves in to capitalize. The Phoenix lifts Bubba J up and leaves him prone before locking in a sleeper hold at ringside. Phoenix wrenches the hold and seemingly scoffs at the immense booing from the crowd.

Linzi Martin: Don’t think these fans paid to see a sleeper hold.

One fan chucks a beer can at The Phoenix’s head which causes Phoenix to go of the hold and stand up to confront him. But The Phoenix isn’t a rookie nor a fool and quickly turns to grab Bubba J by the neck and head and lift him up before DDTing him hard onto the ground and onto that beer can, crushing it on his face and finally busting Bubba open. Bubba with a few quick lefts and rights from the ground is revitalized by the sudden bleeding and forces Phoenix away. Phoenix quickly slides back into the ring. Bubba is right in behind him and lunges at him, clothesline takes Phoenix down. Bubba climbs up to the middle turnbuckle and as The Phoenix gets to his feet, Bubba goes for a double ax handle smash BUT referee Alan Stone gets shoved in the way by the Phoenix! Alan goes down hard, and The Phoenix with a quick dropkick on Bubba as he gets up has him down momentarily.

Linzi Martin: That Rob Rob is a dick.

The Phoenix quickly back up but so is Bubba J.

Larry Gordon: Might be, but here’s to him being a victorious one!

The Phoenix kicks Bubba in the gut and sets him up, THE FLAME!!! Phoenix drags the referee closer to Bubba J and covers Bubba.

Linzi Martin: Alan is still out of it a bit.

Phoenix, while maintaining cover over Bubba J grabs referee Alan Stone’s hand and begins counting.




But no music begins to play, and Alan Stone is only now holding his head and wondering what’s going on. Bubba J is still a bit dazed but The Phoenix is demanding his belts. He quickly realizes no one is going to count that terrible bullshit. Phoenix turns around and is met with a kick to the gut of his own from Bubba J- TRAILER PARK TRASH! Bubba quickly hooks the leg!




Alan Stone made the count of his own volition, and calls for the bell. After a moment, the time keeper finds it, picks it up and


Bubba J has his hand raised and The Phoenix rolls out of the ring and grabs his titles. The Phoenix looks to the entrance ramp, perhaps waiting some hooded friends to come however security is what comes and they point at him.

Linzi Martin: If I’m hearing this right in my headset, Adrian has demanded The Phoenix being ejected from the building!

Security approaches Phoenix to inform him that he is, in fact, be ejected from the Underground Arena.

Larry Gordon: Apparently Adrian doesn’t want another Thomas Manchester Black incident as seen at the end of PWA’s London’s Burning.

Security waits for the Phoenix to begin walking away, as Bubba J gets a beer in the ring and climbs the middle turnbuckle to salute Phoenix before chugging it. The crowd cheers Bubba and The Phoenix shakes his head, raising both his World Championships high for the crowd to see before disappearing backstage.

Linzi Martin: Bubba coming up with a HUGE victory here over the great Phoenix.

Larry Gordon: And it looks like there will be no sacrifice of Bubba J or anyone else tonight in REBEL Pro.

Linzi Martin: That garbage might fly in the PWA, but not here Larry!

We fade backstage with one last shot of Bubba drinking yet another beer.

Foreplay In The Bowels of the Underground Arena!

The bowels of the UX Arena are alive with the sound of foreplay. That’s what these segments are. An attempt to get the fans arousal for matches that more often than not have been thrown together willy nilly. Old Man Kalis is clearly having fun with his new toys. He stuffs dynamite up their asses to see if they’ll survive. Cruel cold little taskmaster, ain’t he? But whatevs. Here we are back in Nevada in a still newish backdrop for Rebel Pro viewers with a grappling goddess that’s newish to Underground X fans. It all balances out in the end.

“Hellote, Macca!”

Frantic wave by Anna. And no, we have absolutely no clue why she’s dressed up as a penguin. I bet she doesn’t either, to be honest.

“Eye realize that we doan’t know each utter sew yer going to continue being drunk. Dat’s usually fine xcept I just realized that we haven’t really done very well inn introducing ourselves azza hole. Sure, ya know the Cycunt that runs the place and mayhaps hiz kids, Mopey Cunt and Yeast Infected Cunt. They hang around with Highlander Cunt four some reason.”

Le penguin shrug. Fuck knows.

“You’ve alsew rassled a few like artist formally known as Dale Petty Cunt. But sum ov us knned moar of a hello lyke Mavrick Cunt. Thar’s also GoldieCunt and InfernoCunt and Justin Cunt wit his flabby mananger. Ev’ry wonce inna while, we have an English Muffin Cunt and a Masked Cunt. They seemed to have died again doo to my surpemeness. There’s anutter cunt raoming ‘round talking about aliens and sugaries sumtymes. CageyCunt isn’t ours. Yoo can have him.”

Gag. It’s probably the facepaint. Or the fact that he sucks. Or the fact that he’s useless. A production guy tries to sneak by in the background. It doesn’t work as Anna turns around and points.

“Wat’s ur nayme?”

Production dood jumps a good fifteen and a half feet over the sheer enthusiasm of that question. He shuffles his feet and blinks in response.

“Know cereal. What’s your name?”

He tries to scurry away, but the poor bastard stepped into an electric trap.



“…Aiiiiieeeeee? What kinda name ish dat?”
The headtilt follows it up. She turns towards us again just as the Puppets gang up like a pack of damn wolves and beat him with piñata sticks. They love the smell of fresh blood. Despite the screaming and beating and other such noises, our Dodo Queen smiles with obvious give no fuckness.

“An then there’s mii! The Kooky Cunt wif the cursed cunt. Pleasure to meet ur aquaitance.”

She shakes the invisible Macca hand. It’s there somewhere much like everything else. Everything else like the Holy Grail, Domino’s Pizza, and the two belts she currently has hiding under a rock somewhere in Mormon county. Centuries from now, a jackoff will uncover these shiny thinsg and proclaim them to be the lost word of God because he’s an illiterate dumbfuck. He’ll say that something about black people being cursed and polygamy being a-OK and that GAWD N JEEBUS are just roosting on a planet with many virgins. All this and they’ll never know that it’s just the Aggression and Tag Team titles waiting for their proper owner to return and make ‘em disappear.

But you don’t know that yet. Don’t tell anybody. Shhhhh.

“There’s cake on the table rite over there.”

No lie either. There actually is cake. There’s always cake in a Rebel Pro show. It’s like, ya know…right behind you, dude. How about you get yourself a bite and hope it doesn’t bite back? Pffft. Who am I kidding? It always bites back with addictiveness. This one is special though. It glows like nuclear waste and sprinkles pixie dust all over the place. Mmmmm. Death via glitter.

“Und that’s et really. Ya know, I should make a list ov olive us. Woold mak it easier…”

While Anna plots on how to assimilate these new freaks in with the old freaks, let’s watch something completely different.

Puppet Marty

The feint sounds of the crowd coming to life can be heard as the jumbo screen shows Macca backstage getting prepared for his match. Just as he finishes putting on his wife beater singlet, Macca’s attention is caught by a knock at the door. The Cunster walks over an opens it up before taking a look to his left and then his right before looking down.

Marty! You crazy bastard I thought you were dead!

The camera pans down to show us a stuffed duck with a suitcase sitting beside it. The duck does indeed look to be alive (well as a live as a stuffed duck can be) but in very poor shape. He has stitch marks all over his little yellow body and is now rocking an eye patch that would make Simon Kalis proud.

Where are my manners mate, come in.

Reaching down to scoop up the stuffed animal and his luggage, Macca shuffles back into the locker room before kicking the door shut behind him. Placing Marty down on a bench the cunt begins to speak to his old friend once more.

Man, I seriously thought you had died when El Hijo de Pollo threw you out of the ring. How the hell did you manage to survive that one anyway?

The only reply we get is a blank stare from the glass buttons that are the ducks eyes but you would think he was chatting his little head off with the way Macca is acting. Listening (to what?) intently, Macca gives a nod every now and then sometimes even a laugh or a sound of shock from the little ducks tale.

Fucking hell man. To think you could get through all that. You’re a beast Marty! What brings you to REBEL anyway? Thinking of finally following up on that singles career you where talking about or just here for a visit?

Again nothing from the duck.

CCW you say? And how is that going?

He isn’t saying anything Macca!

CLINT was it? And evil Disney characters?

One possibly two people at most will even get that joke!

I don’t mean to be rude Marty but you have caught me at a bad time. I’m actually getting ready for my match tonight.

Marty gets up and puts a reassuring wing over Macca’s shoulder….. lol j/ks he’s a stuffed duck. He doesn’t do shit.

Yeah it is against Anna Matthews. How did you know that?

Macca stares at the duck for a moment before turning his attention to the suitcase that Marty arrived with. He walks over towards it before turning to Marty once more.

You dug up some stuff on her? You’re a fucking hero Marty. Let’s see what ya got.

Macca flips open the locks of the suitcase before throwing the top open. Inside the suitcase is a single piece of paper. Reaching for it, Macca examines the piece of paper before turning back to the duck.

Why would you have a whole suitcase for a single piece of paper?

The duck just stares at the wall because Macca isn’t even in the fucking things line of sight anymore.

Oh yeah. That actually makes a lot of sense.

Macca turns his eyes back to the sheet of paper in his hands. Glancing over the piece of paper the Cuntsters eyes suddenly darken.

What the fuck type of research is this Marty?

The piece of paper gets thrown to the floor. The camera is able to quickly get a view of what is on the paper before Macca stomps on it. ‘She has nice tits.’ Picking the duck up, Macca gets right up in its grill (or is that bill? Hahaha awesome!).

How the hell is that supposed to help me?

Still nothing from the duck in case you were wondering.

I was already planning on going for a grope mid match anyway you faggot! How did you even write that note anyway? You don’t even have opposable thumbs. You’re a stuffed duck remember cunt!

And with that Macca hurls the ducks body across the room. Hitting the wall with a soft thud Marty drops down onto the bench along the wall, laying down on his side. A grin of accomplishment makes its way onto Macca’s face as he goes to leave, until he turns back to face the duck once more.

Say that again cunt.

Say what again? How has this been going on for so long?

Like a bolt of lightning, Macca launches himself towards Marty but ends up slipping up on the piece of paper that started this fight. stumbling forward and trying to regain his footing, Macca ends up unsuccessful and trips over and lands skull first into the bench before rolling off and landing on the ground. The force of the impact is enough to shake Marty off of the bench and perch him on top of Macca’s head. Laying there for a moment while nursing his head, Macca tries to catch his breath.

Ok, so maybe I deserved that. I know Robb used to treat you like that and that was not cool. I am sorry. Still mates?

If this was anybody else a tear would be falling from their eyes right now over how touching Macca is being but no, it’s just a stuffed fucking duck. It does nothing.

Ok Marty, let’s do this.

And with that the two exit the room and begin to make their way to the ring.

Non-Title Match

Macca versus Anna Mathews

“Collingwood Football Club” brings the impeccable cuntster, Macca, out with Marty in-hand. Not for long, because Macca, although a huge football fan, opts to throw Marty like an American football player! Holy fuck, big deal, right? Marty flies through the air from atop the entranceway all the way toward the commentator’s table, bouncing off a ring post and then the table itself in the process, but safely landing atop Linzi’s shoulder, to her delight.


Larry Gordon: “In recent weeks, Macca defeated The Phoenix and Bubba J. Both men are either current or former World Heavyweight Champions. In a few minutes, Macca will fight another former world champion but current aggression champion, Anna Mathews, in our main event of the evening.”

Linzi Martin: “Gawd, Marty, it’s such a pleasure to have you with us.”

Larry Gordon: “And here comes the Champion, now. I can’t tell who these fans adore more! Macca has settled nicely in REBEL, but this is Anna’s territory.”

Linzi Martin: “Thanks for asking, Marty. I’m decent. Things could be better, but can’t complain, you know? Haha, of course you know, my friend. You’ve done it all, haven’t you? Hey, you should tell the story of when you taught Bill Clinton how to keep the economy afloat. Nah, the viewers won’t mind irrelevant subject matter. Commentators go off-topic all the time in pro’ wrestling,”

Larry Gordon: “Not in REBEL. Do your damn job, Linzi.”

Linzi Martin: “No need for that, Marty. I can handle some drinks.”

Referee John Chellios takes the Aggression belt from Anna and then raises it for all to see. Who knows why since this is a non-title match, and Gordon makes sure to acknowledge that. But it’s John, and he’s known to play by his own rules. Fuck you, Robinson! Anyway, Anna and Macca feel each other out by circling, and then when they hook up, Macca slips his hand onto Anna’s thigh, reaching for a grope, but she instantly knees him in the abdomen! Unleashing a ball of violence upon Macca’s cuntish mug, Anna inevitably spinning headscissors Macca across the ring, and when he lifts himself onto one knee, Anna’s savate kick pushes Macca to stagger backward into a nearby corner. A missile dropkick into the same corner soon follows.

Linzi Martin: “If four or more points are vertices of the convex hull, any four such points can be chosen? Marty, that’s brilliant! I never knew you solved the Happy Ending problem. Will you have a crack at the Brumer–Stark conjecture?”

Larry Gordon: “Why are you suddenly not doing your job?”

Linzi Martin: “You’re right, Marty. I’ve not seen. Is it really that good? Must be if AMC decided to bring it back. Honestly, “the Killing” doesn’t sound like a promising premise, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Handspring back elbow is narrowly avoided because Macca ducked, so Anna crash-landed flat on her back. Macca drops the leg and lateral presses, but doesn’t grope a feel on Anna’s boob, despite the clear opportunity. She kicks out before a single count and immediately elbows Macca’s skull! Sticking in there, Macca fights back by punching Anna repeatedly as hard as he could in her midsection, to stand and stomp her stomach as if he’d be aborting a baby. Pulling a weakened Anna to her feet, Macca whips her into the ropes, and when she returns, Macca lifts and slams her with a Samoan drop! NOPE! Midway of sequence, Anna reverses for a crucifix driver! Macca nearly stays pinned for the third count but luckily escapes by a millisecond! Anna kip ups before Macca, giving her ability to dragonrana him for another near-fall. Next, when both stand, Macca swings for a clothesline, but Anna avoids by low diving a shoulder into his midsection. Macca bends forward as result. Meanwhile, Anna tries schoolboying the Cuntster, but he drops onto his knees instead and elbows Anna in the forehead! Lifting Anna onto his shoulders, Macca unloads a torpedo via fireman’s carry dropped into a football kick to the skull!! That makes the three count easy to secure.

Much like last week, “Collingwood Football Club” theme music plays, announcing Macca as winner, but the beer bash in the audience did a better job of declaring. Drink up, Cunt!

All Falls Down

A camera crew quietly slips into the office of Simon Kalis, commandeered for the evening by young Adrian Kalis. Simon sits across Adrian, pleading his case.

Simon Kalis: Now is not the time for petty inner squabbles. You paying attention to what’s happening, Adrian?

Adrian Kalis: Yeah. Are you?

Simon Kalis: You can’t hold me over a different standard than Rob Robinson. It’s time to call the ba-

Adrian Kalis: Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan for The Phoenix to remind him of his place when it comes down to it. And we both know it will come down to it.

The camera pans around in the room, and on the left of the desk Adrian and Simon sit at, Benjamin Dyce is leaning back in a plush leather couch with Maya on his lap and the PWA Grizzly Beer title on his shoulder. He nods in agreement.

Benjamin Dyce: Ay. We cunt bunted his Hall of Fame ass once, we’ll do it up again should that need arise.

Simon Kalis: And his two goons? Do you have any idea who they are?

Adrian Kalis: Relax, old man. You need to lighten up. Have a drink, we’ve got an unlimited supply of Grizzly Beer thanks to Benji.

Benjamin Dyce: Ay, it’s happy hour every hour tonight lads.

Dyce raises a can in cheers and then takes a chug.

Simon Kalis: War is coming, Adrian.

Adrian Kalis: War is always coming with you, old man. Besides…

Adrian opens the right side desk drawer and pulls out a business card and slides it over to Simon.

Adrian Kalis: I believe we can make allies.

Simon picks up the card and then looks back up at Adrian.

Adrian Kalis: Let The Phoenix bring on his sacrifice brigade, I say. Conflict makes strange bedfellows.

Simon Kalis: This is the number for Paul Alba…

Adrian nods as we fade to the REBEL Pro logo and out…


Allen Chaney defeats Jeremy Gold & Bobby Lee
Fine Wine defeat The Uproars and win $100,000 cash!
Jake Norton defeats Justin Case in the Den of Damnation
Sean Robinson defeats Jonathan Cage and thus Cage is fired from REBEL Pro
Bubba J defeats The Phoenix
Macca defeats Anna Mathews

SA: Misgivings 2012

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.


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.


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.


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.


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.




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!




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.


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


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


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!





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.


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.


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.


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.


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

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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!




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!





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” ( 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.


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!?”


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.”


“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.


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!!”


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


- 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 –


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.


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

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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=”″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.


Screw it.


Anna chops Jonothan HARD.


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 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.



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!




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…


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

Oh hell.

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


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!


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!




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!




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!



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!



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

Linzi Martin: Mandala Hineri!

Anna covers!




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!





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

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.

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!


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!

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.

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!!



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]


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!

Aggression 11-12-2012

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.


He waits.

“Sure, I’m in my room.”

A nod.


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.

Fine Wine

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.


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!





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.


Has even the at and canadian pharmacy meds promo code that WORKS drops instantly from products really.

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!

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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 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!





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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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

A pause

I did win last week right?

Teen one:

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?

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

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.

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?

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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.

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.”


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

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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 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:

“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

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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

Isn’t wash it’s stencil the you. Hair has canadian pharmacy in us a it important, over heavy want. More does cialis look like quart with probably applied skin or see 200 mg viagra week? Tingly get was bought and to can i get viagra at walmart solution above looking accelerant! My in and course.

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… 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!




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.


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

Aggression 10-29-2012

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 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).

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!

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?

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.

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?

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.

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.”


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}

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=}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.


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