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.
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.”
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.
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 kisses Bad Santa on the cheek, and then is off like the wind down a hallway off-camera.
Tommy Idol: “You do know that this match ended in a draw, right?”
Bad Santa looks at Tommy Idol for a few seconds in silence.
Bad Santa: “TOMMY IDOL!” CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP “TOMMY IDOL!”
Bad Santa continues chanting Tommy’s name loudly at him as Idol stares at Bad Santa very much confused.
Earlier in the week, Allen wanders down the hallways of the REBEL Pro offices with a huge duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He heads to the door of a very big and important looking office with a sign on it that reads ‘VACATION’. Allen points to the camera and motions for them to keep a lookout. The cameraman turns and has a look around and something unfortunate happens to the door offscreen before the cameraman turns back to look at it and hey! It’s open! Movie magic! Allen steps in and behind the desk, setting the bag down before he begins addressing the camera, wearing his trademark sleeveless flannel and bloody smiley ‘Comedian’ shirt.
“You know I thought a lot about what happened on the last Aggression, so I sat down and I cooled off before I wrote out a reasoned and logical series of complaints about what Simon Kalis did to me last week. I just showed up in his office at REBEL headquarters and he appears to be busy, so I figure I’ll just leave it on his desk.” says Allen. He then places the three sheets of stapled pieces of paper on the desk before putting on a pair of work gloves.
“And I figured after that I might dump a bag of manure on his desk.” says Allen, who does in fact pick up a bag of manure and dump it all over Simons desk.
“And to finish that off, I figured I’d dump some lighter fluid on top of the poop and throw a lit match on top of it.” he says before he in fact squirts lighter fluid on top of the pile of poop before lighting a match on casually dropping it on the pile. It goes up in flames and Allen picks up his bag and casually strolls of, the cameraman following after him as he heads to the break room and pours himself a cup of coffee. He turns to the camera.
“Hi Simon. How’s it going? I bet you are watching this with a heavy amount of interest now and that was part of my goal aside from making us even for the little Screwjob you pulled on me. A part of me just wants to ignore it and crack jokes and sit here with a smug look on my face, maybe do a funny bit about…I dunno… talking about how your eyehole is probably a tighter fuck than your daughters twat buuuuut there’s a bigger part of me that would like to impart the following to you.” says Allen, his eye twitches and the coffee mug in his hand shatters under the force of his grip.
“If you EVER try and fuck me again, I will create a path of destruction that will leave this company and everything you ever loved exactly as I left your desk; A Fuck you flaming pile of shit. I fucking PROMISE you, Simon. If I see you getting involved in my match, I’m gonna make every little bit of the terrible shit that has happened to you…The Crucifixion, the Confederate Flag trip… I’m going to make those look like the opening tutorial level of a video game. I fucking DARE you to take me there, Simon because for once I am NOT joking. Take every conception of what you think I am capable of and shove it up your unlubricated turd-cutter. I want you to sit back, have a tall glass of egg nog and watch as I win the Number One Contenders trophy before I cash it in at the next big show and beat the fuck out of someone named ‘Robinson’. Doesn’t matter which one.”
Allens eye twitches once more before he takes a deep breath, calmed down by the sprinklers that go off. We hear a fire alarm in the distance as Allen grabs a non-broken cup and pours himself more coffee, seemingly not caring about all the chaos that is unfolding around him.
“As far as Fine Wine goes, I almost had you fuckers beat before Simon got involved and I have very recently easilly beaten more than one person. I know you two have more experience than he does, but I suggest you use both bits of that information to comfort yourself after I’ve beaten you. God himself could show up in that ring to tell me it’s not my time to win the Trophy and I’d give him the finger and go back to piledriving the two of you over and over until the audience and I are never subjected a promo consisting mainly of the only fatter fuck than me in this company scarfing Twinkies down his gullet as Mark McNasty desperately and unnaturally tries to play straightman to all of the idiocy EVER AGAIN. You are about to be in the ring with a man who has everything to gain and nothing to lose fellas. But of course you don’t care because you are both as up your own asses figuratively as much as you probably are up each others literally because as a rule Wrestlers who age like ‘Fine Wine’ care about nothing but keeping the spotlight on themselves as long as they can… it’s my job once that bell rings to make you and everyone else watching care and take notice. Allen Chaney is NOT a joke.”
Allen has a sip of his waterlogged coffee before stepping out of the room. We fade to black and a bit of music begins.
(To the tune of ‘Up On The Housetop’)
“REBEL needs a new champ, That is clear.
Don’t fret, Allen Chaney’s here.
Simons desk has gone up in smoke.
‘Fine Wine’ is a big unfunny joke.
Ho Ho Ho, I’m not gonna go.
No no no, cause P-Dub still blows.
Up on the the housetop, Click click click.
Mind your own business you bald black dick.”
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: I think I lost fifteen pounds.
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: 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.
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.
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.
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?
McNasty: LETS DO THIS!
McNasty and Wilkie high five before walking towards the camera, and off screen.
The white writing returns.
“To Be Concluded…Now.”
Handicap Match for the Number One Contenders Trophy
Fine Wine versus Allen Chaney
Once more, this match is done purely from my (Linzi Martin) point-of-view. Why? Because I’d rather steal Paul Alba’s shtick by documenting these commentaries I do for future reference when I write my badass autobiography.
And so, Allen Chaney was screwed by Simon Kalis in that weird triple threat tag-slash-handicap match booked on our previous installment of Aggression, also known as ‘go-home’ show of Merry Time Massacre. How? Allen pinned Alex Wilkie simultaneous to McNasty covering Erik Loomis but the ref took a bump so nobody was there to recognize these attempts. So what happens? Simon Kalis, our bookerman, comes running to the ring and pretends to not see Allen’s attempt because of his eyepatch, therefore exclusively recognizing McNasty’s and granting him victory.
Again, this booking looks like another chance to mess with Allen for smoothly finding a loophole thus ultimately acquiring a job in REBEL against Simon’s wishes. And the way this match starts likely made Simon grin: although Allen landed hard punches on both members of Fine Wine, the veteran team overwhelmed our standup giant through chops and punches, and eventually kicks once Allen fell to the canvas. While Wilkie occasionally kicked and dropped elbows during McNasty’s terrible attempt of a sharpshooter, Allen took hold of Wilkie’s foot and tripped him onto his ass! Kicking McNasty away from his feet, Allen easily stands and spears McNasty to the canvas.
Bionic elbow galore follows, which results in one mighty gutwrench powerbomb to McNasty from Chaney! Wilkie, having trouble standing due to his turtle-like physique (he literally has difficulty in rolling over onto his side as a turtle would), is kept on his back by a big splash off the middle turnbuckle from Chaney! Hooking the leg, John Chellios counts a one before McNasty’s jumping somersault senton breaks the count! Within two seconds, Allen is up on a knee, trying to fully stand, but McNasty swiftly denies that attempt via snap DDT!
Since it was a good moment to cover Allen, McNasty did so, but not a single count was made because Allen powerhouses out by pushing McNasty up and over him! Belly flopping onto the canvas, McNasty doesn’t get up as fast as he normally would due to the sharp sting and hesitance, which permits Allen to big boot Mark through the middle rope and onto the apron! Never before has anyone seen Allen do it, but god damn, it happened tonight: the chubby comedian impresses by a slingshot guillotine leg drop that practically decapitates McNasty!
Coughing violently thanks to that throat attack, McNasty is forced to take a snap suplex onto the outside cement by Chaney! Leaving Mark to wither in his pain, Allen returns to the ring and sees Wilkie awfully stuck on his back exactly like earlier. Pointing at Wilkie’s absurd situation, Allen lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. Then, rather cruelly, Allen places a foot against Wilkie’s throat and presses down for several seconds causing Alex to choke! John Chellios allows it until evidently remembering that shit is illegal and so tries to stop it, but then he remembers that this is REBEL Pro and rules like that don’t exist, so he lets Allen continue. Fucking Chellios! All the meanwhile, Alex Wilkie’s face has changed three colors (guess which ones) and in desperation, the pitiful fatty taps out! Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Shimmy Shimmy Ya” announces Allen’s victory, and the camera pans to see Mark McNasty barely standing and pissed.
Yet McNasty wasn’t allowed to stand there and sulk as he probably would have done and liked to. Why? Because fucking Macca jumped over the barricade, turned Mark around, flipped two middle fingers and stunner’d his ass!! Inside the ring, Allen Chaney sees Macca’s handiwork and challenges the cuntster to step inside – likely knowing this is a pattern – but unknowingly, behind him is Bubba J, who laughs.
Bubba J: “Hey Allen.”
Chaney turns around to see Bubba J.
Bubba J: “I got a joke for ya.”
Chaney: “Is it about how you-”
Interrupted by repeated torpedoes known as ‘Bubba’s fists’ blasting him in the face, Allen staggers backward into a Stunner by Macca!
Macca: “Here’s the only decent punchline you’ve been involved in, bitch”
Giving a kick to Allen’s gut, Macca then spits on him!
Bubba J: “Macca!”
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.
“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 Salazar: “Sadly, I feel that the Tag division is a lost cause sometimes. Our combined effort likely won’t be matched until Lisa Seldon and Teresa Quaranta come back to take us on, or something.”
Deicide: “Basically, our competition sucks, but really, that’s why Simon Kalis called us over to REBEL to begin with: we’re here to fix this mess and help continue REBEL’s success.”
David Fricke: “REBEL is unofficially yet widely accepted as the number one promotion in the AOWF today. A lot of that is due to the UX mergence.”
Cesar Salazar: “Yeah, that’s right, but Simon Kalis and Larry Gordon know nobody will care about that in a few months. We X’ers have already been here for a few months, now. Next, after Wrestling’s Undisputed forge REBEL’s Undisputed Tag titles, and Robbo saves the World Heavyweight Championship from that careless Phoenix, our goal is to cement ourselves as REBEL icons.”
Deicide: “It’s nice that we are officially UX Legends but we must move away from that image to grow. In some ways, Maverick is more of a PWA guy and Anna is halfway between a Victory gal and future REBEL legend, but their how does cialis feel aimless direction and silent voices prevent that.”
David Fricke: “One last question before we wrap this up: Anna Mathews also has a match against Justin Case, but that’s been billed to take place after your TLC match. How do you feel about her double booking?”
Deicide: “Hopefully she gets double the paycheck, or her holiday bonus is enough to cover the hospital bill.”
Cesar Salazar: “Seriously. She’s about to walk into a match with the GSP and Anderson Silva of wrestling, and then be expected to fight the Nick Cannon of wrestling. To be fair, after that first match, Nick Cannon will probably seem a whole lot more Tito Ortiz than usual.”
Like earlier, Paul Alba hysterically loses his shit, and Deicide’s laugh is audible, too.
David Fricke: “Thank you, gentlemen, for this near-hour long interview.”
The recording ends there.
REBEL Pro World/Disputed Tag Team Championship Unification TLC Match
The KKK© versus Wrestling’s Undisputed©
Do I really need to remind you whose perspective this is from? Nope? Good. Our next match is to unify both UX and REBEL Pro tag team championships in tables, ladders and chairs stipulation. We’re witnessing this because Wrestling’s Undisputed is on a quest to conquer the tag division and remold it to fit their vision for it. The KKK on the other hand is here to kickass, put on a good show and leave with the belts. Not much more to say about that, really. I mean, at Armed Assault, the two teams did exchange hands when Wrestling’s Undisputed first appeared on a REBEL production. Besides that, these two teams haven’t made much contact.
Yet the way this match starts, you’d think they’re sworn enemies: first tag team entrance was The KKK, who came out to a great reaction – very supportive and stuff. So Wrestling’s Undisputed came out afterward, to a more mixed response, but halfway down the ramp, Anna Mathews, with a steel chair in hand, jumped from canvas onto the top rope displaying awesome athleticism, then propelled herself to smash the chair against Cesar Salazar’s head!! Three quick knees to Anna’s chest is Deicide’s prompt response, followed by a blatant choke that isn’t interrupted for eleven seconds till Johnny Maverick saves the day via running shoetie!!
Smacking against a barricade, Deicide is not halted completely, but a powerful Spartanesque running boot kicks Deicide over the barricade and onto the laps of fans! That right there temporarily puts Deicide out of commission, and Maverick soaks in a huge markage from the fans. From behind, Cesar Salazar wraps his arms around Maverick’s waist, immediately deadweight lifts for a nasty Gargoyle suplex onto the concrete ground! Transitioned into a cross-armed surfboard, the submission is effective but Anna Mathew’s Arabian facebuster smashes a steel chair into Salazar’s face once again to cease all of his action!
Unloading a big ball of violence onto Cesar soon after Anna mounts him, this viciousness continues for at least forty seconds, which is all it takes for Salazar to horribly bleed from the mouth and nose! Satisfied with her handiwork, Anna leaves Cesar to setup a table. Maverick is stirring now, so he goes to assist Anna once fully up. Together, with the table set, Maverick and Anna execute an aided snap swinging neckbreaker that sends Cesar through the table!
Enraged upon standing, Deicide uses the barricade to leap forth and double clothesline Maverick & Anna! Tapping into his mixed martial arts background, a combination of thrust kicks and boxing jabs stuns both KKK members, but a one-armed shoulder throw sends Anna back-first against nearby steel steps and Maverick is momentarily eliminated via inner thigh void throw! Having single-handedly disemboweled the solid offense from KKK, Deicide grabs a steel chair and repeatedly bashes it against Anna’s ankles!! Two! Five! Eight! Twelve times! Fucking hell, Anna is screaming in pain!!
Strangely yet unsurprisingly, it’s Cesar Salazar who snatches the chair away from Deicide!
Deicide: “What the hell?”
Cesar Salazar: “This is not how we go about this!”
Deicide: “I don’t feel as strongly as you do.”
Cesar Salazar: “Our mission is to defeat them through technique, not by usage of these things!”
Salazar releases the steel chair from his grip.
Cesar Salazar: “Let’s go get those belts, now.”
Pointing skyward at the REBEL Pro and UX tag titles hanging twenty feet above the ring, Salazar pats Deicide on the back before grabbing a ladder, sliding it inside the ring and following. Choosing to remain outside of the ring, Deicide grabs a tearful Anna Mathews and hugging high lift throws her against the barricade!! Back inside, Salazar has perfectly aligned the setup ladder beneath the dangling championships and is now climbing, but from behind, Johnny Maverick springboards off the top rope to wheel kick Salazar’s backside! Sliding down several rungs, Cesar manages to catch his balance before falling off altogether, though this coincidentally assists Maverick in double underhook suplexing Salazar against a ladder leaning on a turnbuckle in a nearby corner!!! The ladder is bent soon as Salazar’s body makes contact!! “Thank You, Maverick” chants galore.
Sneak attacking Maverick from behind through headbutts, Deicide whips Maverick into the corner chest-first, bombards him with a landslide of lightning-strike punches to the spine, jumps atop the turnbuckle and leads Maverick onto the middle buckle by the hair, all the while continuing to elbow his spine to ensure cooperation. What came next is undoubtedly the spot of the night: lifting Maverick into an inverted belly-to-back position, Deicide jumps off the turnbuckle and freefalls to the outside driving Maverick headfirst through a table for the sickest spike piledriver ever!!!!
Fans: “RE-BEL PRO! RE-BEL PRO! RE-BEL PRO”
And all those excitable chants follow, and for good reason. I’m getting wet myself. Shit is hectic! While Deicide and Maverick lay outside, Anna Mathews is inside the ring and starting to climb the ladder! It’s taking her a while though after having a steel chair crack her ankles a record-setting twelve times, understandably. However, this provides opportunity for Salazar to also make his way to and up the ladder, which, given his badly beaten body, isn’t quicker than Anna’s pace, yet they eventually meet at the top simultaneously.
From there, the two dramatically exchange back-and-forth punches, which at first were alarmingly fast but gradually got slower. Punch after punch, Anna Mathews looks like she’s about to fall off, but is hanging on by one hand! Salazar moves in closer to try and punch her off with one last shot, but instead, Anna swings her free hand around so swiftly, the momentous punch collides with Salazar’s chin so greatly, he collapses, hits his chin on a rung on the way down, and whiplashes backward against the canvas for maximum markage!!! Anna Mathews has done it!! She’s the sole person standing, and inches away from those belts!!! For the love of god, Anna, all you have to do is unbutton them!! She gathers whatever remains of her strength, reaches – OH MY GAAAAWWWD!!!!!!
Cesar Salazar used his feet to push against his side of the ladder so that the Ladder tipped over horizontally and sent Anna flying backwards through our announce table!!! In the process, Anna takes out Larry Gordon, who at first was losing his shit from delight but then lost his shit from horror because Anna tumbled on top of him!!! With the ladder still mostly standing, Salazar weakly gets up and pulls it back down to stand properly. Ascending the ladder, fans voice a highly mixed reaction – some cheering, some booing, you know the fucking deal – but at end, Cesar Salazar unhooks all four REBEL Pro and UX Undisputed Tag Championships!! Ramin Djawadi’s “Game of Thrones Main Title” divides and conquers this sold-out arena to declare Wrestling’s Undisputed victory!
Cesar Salazar sits atop the ladder with a literal bloody grin, and Deicide comes inside to receive both of his tag championships. On each of their shoulders rest both REBEL Pro’s Tag Team Championships and UX Undisputed Tag Team Championships! Though, now, I guess we’ll refer to those belts as Undisputed REBEL Pro Tag Championships!
OH DEAR GAWD! Here comes the Toughest Bastards!! Macca slides in the ring, spins Salazar around, and smashes a beer bottle against his already bloody forehead! Likewise, Bubba J too smashes a bottle over Deicide’s head, but unlike Salazar, Deicide does not immediately collapse. So, in good taste, Bubba J flips him off and stunners his bum ass!!!
Macca: “Cheers that, Cunts!”
Macca is heard saying after picking up the tag championships and raising them high above, same as Bubba J! Rushing down the ramp is Simon Kalis’ security force, but in front of them leading the way is Paul Alba!!?
Alba tells the security to stay outside of the ring – “I got this” – he says, reassuringly. Macca is confused at first, because at one point in time, Macca and Alba were the best of drinking buddies.
Paul Alba: “Macca, please give me the belts.”
Reaching out for them but not trying to grab them, Alba politely asks.
Macca: “Why the fuck are you with these cunts??”
Paul does not respond.
Macca: “Silent treatment, eh?”
Dropping the belts, Paul Alba is slightly turned around to eat a stunner from Bubba J!!
Macca: “Cheers, Alba.”
Macca says right before all sixteen security guards slide into the ring and madly brawl with the toughest bastards!! Surprisingly, Macca and Bubba each hold their own against this force, but eventually are overwhelmed once Cesar Salazar and Deicide assist Simon’s crew in the beatdown!
The Chosen One
Upon the REBEL PRO Titan Tron we come to view “The Chosen One” and current Franchise killer, Justin Case. With him is his new reality star singer turned vulgar valet biker chick, Susan Boyle. She spits on the floor as we pan over to see Case’s manager The Wiz, holding of all things a straightjacket. The Wiz simply holds the straightjacket in the air as we pan out to see all three figures.
Justin Case: over time you have established yourself as the person you want people to see. You have created an image that has worked well for you in the past. Up until now.
Susan Boyle lets out a high pitched heckle.
Justin Case: You see, 7 percent of human communication is verbal. That leaves 93 percent in which is the way you conduct yourself, your body language, your facial expressions and the presence you have created for yourself. It all has worked for you in the past because we have all been fooled by your tactics. But now yours truly.
Case’s eyes narrow.
Justin Case: Anna Mathews, you are a catfish. You pretend to be something you are not. And now I think Ive stepped on a gold mine. Because I think I finally figured you out. You see Anna, for years now you have been walking around as the crazy lady we all want to avoid pissing off, because you will use your creative method of madness to hide your true indentity. However, now that I have figured you out, I have thus opened a pandoraz box that will surely open the door to greater things for myself, not just in the future, but when we face off for your belt.
……It will soon be mine!
“TCO’s” eyes widen with an inlightened glow.
Justin Case: And Because of what I know you to be, your days as Aggression Champion are coming to an end. But Mathews, It was a great reign, and one that will go down in the record books. However, I now see right through you! And as the catfish that you are, soon I will defeat you and take what is rightfully mine. The REBEL PRO Aggression Title will look very talented around my waist! But first, I want to prove to you and the world what others before me have failed to realize.
Susan Boyle lets off a sly evil grin.
Justin Case: The first is the fact that Anna Mathews is a fake from top to bottom! Your verbal accent is just a put on to present yourself as a crazed lunatic. But in reality you arent a crazed she devil. You are a cool, complicated calculated person. Although, In reality you have no self esteem, you have cut yourself off from normal society because you fear that they will figure you out just as I have. But for you it is far too late. Because in reality you arent the crazy cat lady who preys on the weak and talks a good game. You are nothing more than a scared kitty cat trying to mask her true self so to not feel the pain of what you really are.
Case pauses to let off a cocky glow.
Justin Case: And that person you really are is a weak minded, worthless sorry excuse of a pathetic human being! That you have used to manufest your way to the top by pretending to be some psycho ass bitch. However, we all know now that you are just a fraud. A shameful, disgraceful ugly human being that has no will, no pride and more importantly no dignity to show the world who you really are. And what are you really?
The Wiz hoists up the Straight Jacket yet again.
Justin Case: You are a person who is weak to the very core. As per mentioned. And as this person I now know you to be, after our match, when my arm is raised in victory, all will then know that what I say is nothing more than the 100 percent truth. Make no mistake about it. In our match I will cut you down inch by inch with my pure athleticly skilled and very talented abilities! Now knowing full well who the real Anna Mathews is, my plan is to capitalize on the real Anna Mathews as I see you. And as that fake posing, scared to death disgrace that I know you to be, during our match I will use this to my advantage as I take the Aggression Title from you and make it mine. All because you couldnt show the world your true colors. In your heart of hearts you are just a lost little girl. You hide by pretending to be someone you are not. And it is with that in mind that I need to remind the world that this type of character does not sit well in a REBEL PRO Aggession Champion.
Case’s eyes deepen with coldness.
Justin Case: So now it will be up to yours truly to restore the dignity of the REBEL PRO Aggression Championship Title Belt. You see, the belt has been dipped in dishonored disgrace for far too long. Now it will be up to me to restore the integrity of the REBEL PRO Aggression Title, and bring back the respect that the belt deserves. I mean Lets face it, even a person with my background is better fit to wear that title belt than any fake ass poser of a woman who cant admit her own faults. And once I am the new holder of the Aggression Title, I will be that much closer to finishing the job as the REBEL PRO franchise killer!
Susan Boyle continues laughing.
Justin Case: I will finsh what I came here to do. With yours truly as champion, I can further my grasp on REBEL PRO and take with me the title belt that represents REBEL PRO in all its glory. within my hands will then be power. And with power comes prestige. My grip on REBEL PRO will then be that much closer to where it needs to be. You see, I have come to end the federation of REBEL PRO! And with each Title I hold, when I do finish the job, I will not just take with me each and every championship title belt, when my job is done, I will then leave REBEL PRO with every belt at my talented grasp!
Case looks at the Straight Jacket in The Wiz’s arms.
Justin Case: Ending REBEL PRO once and for all! You see, unlike The Phoenix, I wont hide in the shadows. I wont get my back up to attack you from behind. While may not care, I do. Forget the puppets and cake. You dont need to hide behind dolls and desserts. I know the real you and soon the world will too. You are at the end of your fall from grace. Your career is a yo-yo and you are anything but balanced. Stop will you still can. Because the clock is ticking.
……tick tick BOOM!
The group share an evil laugh.
Justin Case: So now you know my plan is in effect. But you also may be wondering what this straightjacket is for. You see, I have come bearing gifts. Why dont we have a ladder match for your title belt? And then the loser has to be put in a straightjacket for the next week. Its perfectly talented idea, dont you think? Because Anna, sooner or later all will be aware. When its all said and done, no one is better than “The Chosen One”.
As the group stand in mockery of the Aggression Champion, the camera suddenly cuts off to static.
REBEL Pro Aggression Championship Match
Justin Case versus Anna Mathews©
I had to come down to the ring and bear witness to this match, and hey, I’m interested in giving people a point of view from none other than the man Simon Kalis himself. No one wants to hear Larry Gordon, certainly, besides, he got knocked around during the TLC match at the end and fucked right off to get his fat ass checked for hemorrhoids or something. And I feel bad. Really bad. Adrian and I were supposed to battle, but instead Anna is forced to go from one match to the next. Both title defenses, back to back of one another. I’ve done of one of these in the PWA. Lost the tag titles, won Who’s The Man. Maybe Anna is going down the same path? Though as we watch Justin Case come out you’d better believe he’s got a fire raging somewhere in that dimwitted brain of his, a likely explanation of how he can be so dumb. But I begrudgingly admit, the Chosen One has talent. I’d not have suffered his return to REBEL Pro if I didn’t think he could make it back to the top.
He’s Canadian after all, and for all the love I have for Anna there is no questioning my countryman’s blood as the superior. Then again, this is Justin Case we’re talking about and blood can only go so far. But just look at Anna coming back to the ring, she is far from rested and everyone knows it. Especially the vulture of House Case. Poor girl is fucking limping, they really cracked at that ankle hard and I’m hoping she’s alright. I take full credit for opening everyones eyes to just how fine “dat ass” is on her, but she is far from looking it early going here. Justin Case is pressing his power and size advantage immediately here by grappling Anna and suplexing her with a quick snap like she’s a ragdoll. Another snap suplex sends Anna rolling around on the canvas.
Case is a shark who smells blood as he locks up Anna Mathews in a figure four leg lock. Pressing the damage done earlier by Wrestling’s Undisputed, Anna writhes in pain with nowhere to go. God damn are we about to see Justin fucking Case recapture the Aggression title? It’s starting to look like it with Anna unable to reach the ropes as she tries bitterly hard to do so. Susan Boyle is cheering on, I feel like puking looking at her. But Case lets go of the hold and rolls out of the ring, leaving Anna a chance to recover as best she can from this onslaught. Might’ve been a mistake. But with him grabbing a chair from ringside left over from the TLC match maybe not. Anna is gingerly on her feet and she just runs, jumps and leaps over the top rope and body splashes right on Justin Case and takes him down before he has a chance to make another addendum to the English language. Anna elbows him in the face while on top of him and rolls off.
Looks like Susan Boyle wants in on this, as if Anna hasn’t got enough shit to deal with. But Anna Mathews hits a Big Ball of Violence on Susan. Fuck that was nuts, I think I saw a titty slip from Anna but that might just be my wishful thinking. Anna has Susan knocked flat on her fat pimply ass but The Wiz takes a swing with his cane but Anna metes out another Big Ball of Violence on him and shuts that fucker up too. Well done, Ms. Mathews. Well done. Of course Case is waiting for her to turn around and as she does he swings with that chair BUT Anna ducks! Big Ball of Violence for Justin Case has him laid flat out. That shit reminds me of Street Fighter, and Anna is Akuma and it’s like the screen goes white and everyone wakes up murdered. And possibly raped.
Anna Mathews tries to lift Case up to put him into the ring, and I figure even being 100% she’d have trouble lifting a heavyweight like Case but with her ankles all battered half way to her wrists this is an exercise in futility and Anna recognizes that. Even with REBEL Pro’s lack of rules, she still needs to get him into the ring for the pin to count. So she does what anyone
would do in her position and picks the chair Case intended to use on her and begins bashing it on his face until he bleeds. I suppose if I wanted to be a dick I could stand up and call this a First Blood match since Case annoys me but I won’t. I’ve got Allen Chaney to be my play thing.
Case is obviously mad as he gets to his feet, blood trickling down his talented fucking face. Anna chucks the heavily dented steel chair aside and gingerly climbs up onto the ring apron, breathing heavily I notice. Not that I stare at her chest all the time or anything, it’s just you know, we focus on her great ass we forget she has other fine features as well. Clearly the exhaustion of back to back title matches has her whooped though but she lands on Case and goes for a hurricanrana! Excellent execution! Or I would say that at least, had Case not caught her, spun her around and powerbombed her against the railing separating the fans from them so hard her neck looks like it might’ve just broken. That can’t be good.
Case takes Anna up and hoists her into the ring. He grabs that cane Wiz carries and rolls into the ring, raising it up for the crowd to cheer but these Montrealais boo this fucker like he’s wearing a Toranna Maple Laffs jersey. He swings down at Anna, but she’s still well within it to roll away instinctively. He takes another swing and another roll from Anna until she rolls right out of the ring. She circles, still limping, damn. But she’s got fight in her as she hops up onto the ring apron, surely cringing in pain but like a true champion ignoring it. She flips up onto the top rope and Case swings the cane again but she ducks and maintains her balance on that top rope before jumping up and this time successfully executing that hurricanrana. She quickly covers but only garners a two count, with Case wiping more of his own thick red Canadian blood off his face. This would be a cool time to do this, “open the dome” and bang. The dome above opens up and snow begins flowing into the stadium. Because let’s make this interesting right!?
Anna grabs the cane and swings in a downward strike like she’s going Gregor Clegane on Justin Case but Case rolls out of the way this time himself, and you gotta wonder if it’s them being smart now or that’s just a shitty weapon. Case rolls and gets to his feet, god damn he is awful, and Anna swings for his head like she’s Babe Ruth reborn. He ducks and kicks her in the gut and then grabs her. He spins her around and lays her out with a backbreaker so hard I’m pretty sure I heard a crunch. Case stops to look up at the dark night sky and the snow falling and floating down over them all as Anna crawls, all kinds of fucked up. Maybe opening the dome was a bad idea, I probably put Case into his element in a Canadian snowfall.
Their breath frosts now in the air as Case lifts Anna up and sets her up. Fuck. Just 2 Talented. Fuck. He pins, god damn it. WAIT! ANNA PUTS HER FOOT ON THE ROPE! OH YEAH TAKE THAT CASE! No Aggression title for you fucker!
So Case decides to drag Anna into the middle of the ring and cover again. Maybe I underestimated his intelligence. BUT ANNA KICKS OUT! Oh fuck yes! Come on sweety, get up. Get up! Case has this look in his eyes man, and now we’ve got Susan Boyle and The Wiz climbing their collective Big fat fuck Mac asses into the ring. Son of a bitch. “Why don’t you step in?” Shut up Linzi, what does this look like? The PWA? Anna can handle herself. I think.
Case has that stupid cane again but Anna bounces off the ropes and hits a Boomerfly Kick on The Wiz, sending him right back out of the ring! YES! She goes for the Boomerfly Kick on Case but Susan Boyle pushes him out of the way and takes the hit for him. Jesus. She rolls herself out of the ring, hopefully the impact of her ass doesn’t crack off more of this fucking building. Case swings for Anna but Anna catches the cane with her hands and rips it out of Case’s grasp. She swings, stops the swing as Case ducks down and then hits that downward attack again and cracks it over his head. She bounces off the ropes, comes back, BOOMERFLY KICK! YES!!! And Anna, breath frosting and all, falls over Case and covers!
ONE! TWO! WAIT A FUCK MINUTE! Susan god damn Boyle just yanked Anna’s foot and pulled her towards the ring apron. Oh god what is that in her hands? Where’d she get that? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!
Susan is smashing a god damn brick on Anna’s injured ankle until the brick itself breaks apart. Anna is in a lot of pain right now. Case is now up, that Boomerfly Kick opened up more of his head. Anna kicks Susan and spins on her belly, and she cracks Susan in the face from her belly. Anna grabs half a brick and turns over onto her back as Case comes for her. YEAH! She cracks Case across the face with the brick and it knocks him the fuck out. Case is down! Anna! GET UP! GET UP! And she is!
Anna can’t even stand on that foot now though, fuck. She’s heading up top for Slash and Burn but she can’t keep her balance that ankle is too fucked. She goes for the big double jump 630 splash but that she can’t and falters and lands on the turnbuckles. Case is up and quickly capitalizes, pulling her off and going for a butterfly suplex before quickly switching it to a piledriver.
Fuck. Just 2 Talented. He covers. One. Two….
God damn it. Referee Alan Stone raises Justin Case’s hands and hands him the REBEL Pro Aggression Championship. Justin Case has won. Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick. Quick lets get Anna some help here. Fuck.
This Is Wrestling
As the REBEL ring crew unloads the equipment trucks and carries the ring into Le Stade Olympique, Sean Robinson stands at the top of the entrance ramp. He looks down over the ringside area, his back to the camera. He speaks softly, just barely raising his voice above a whisper.
“I’ve been in this company for just under two months, but astute fans will know that this isn’t my first go-round in REBEL. I started my career here, cut my teeth in that ring, got my first wins and losses against some serious legends of the business. At the time I left, I thought I would never be back. The fans hated me, and rightly so. So I moved around a little, went up to Alberta for a bit, then back down to Vegas. And that’s where I really found my niche. In Underground X, I became a legend in my own right. I beat the best that UX had to offer, week in and week out. I built a reputation as the best technical wrestler in the game. I strove every night to improve my skills and surpass my own abilities. And in doing so, I did something that no other man had done before. I held the Undisputed Championship for one hundred and twenty days. That’s four months of the greatest champion in the history of the company.
And then Mainerishi blew it all up, I nearly died, and I found myself drifting. Lost at sea, not a single scrap of driftwood to grab on to. But then I was saved, by the most unlikely duo of Paul Alba and Kevin Holiday. And they told me about REBEL. They reminded me of the place where it all started, all those years ago. So I came here, back to where my career began, to try and salvage what was left of it. I knew I would have a long road back. You don’t get burned in an Inferno match one day, and go right back to living high on the proverbial hog the next. You start down at the bottom and work your way back up to the plateau. And that’s where I am today, fingertips clawing at the top of the mountain once again. I’m one match away from simultaneously breaking new ground, and returning to old form.
But I find myself in a unique situation tonight. I’m the challenger for a title which the champion doesn’t want to hold. He actively denies his right to be called the REBEL World Heavyweight Champion. He throws the belt on the ground, defiling the legacy and history it represents. Rob, do you have any idea whose names you’re stepping on when you let that belt hit the floor? When you spit on REBEL, do you know who you’re slighting?
Rex Caliber. Stylin’ Kyle Roberts. The Show, Chad Kurtis. Vincent Black. Lisa Seldon. Bubba J. The list of REBEL Icons who have held that belt goes on cialis australia mastercard and on. And yet you continue to treat those names as footnotes to your AOWF World Title. You ignore their accomplishments, and the paths they blazed to put this company on the map.
Now, I’m not going to stand here and compare myself to them. I was here when Rex and Kyle and Chad ran roughshod over REBEL. Vincent, Bubba, and the rest of Extreme Elite nearly put me in a wheelchair. But I remember those days, and that’s where our difference lies. Do you even remember what it was like before you were the champion? Or does your memory begin and end with that gold around your waist? You see, Rob, I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be hungry. To need every win, because just the slightest loss of momentum could set you back a year or more in your hunt for the belt. But that’s where we differ, once again. I remember that. I still live for those moments. Those moments of doubt that you power through to finish a match, those moments of weakness before your second wind, those moments of pain as you miss your goal by fractions of an inch. Those moments, Rob…
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
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.
But the fact of the matter is he couldn’t carry my cup.
He has these delusions of beating the champ,
That fucker’s so stupid he probably loves lamp.
I’m going to hurt him, kick in his little Sean face.
I’m going to beat his fucking ass all over the place.
He’ll beg me for mercy, his pleas all in vain,
cause the Phoenix is planning on bringing the pain.
I’ll break his arms and his leg and even his nose.
When I’m done he’ll be hurting all over, right down to his toes.
Don’t make the error of thinking I’m all talk,
consider yourself lucky if you’re still able to walk.
I am the Phoenix, the best of all time.
The ways I will hurt you are most likely a crime.
All the fans in the building, from the front row to the nose bleed
Will look away in disgust, like you’re the Human Centipede.
Your dreams will be dashed, your spirit will be broken.
Mark these words well Sean, for truer have never been spoken.
Every word that I said, they all are prophetic,
Because I’m the goddamn Phoenix and you’re fucking pathetic.
The Phoenix: I hope you enjoyed that, Sean, cause that’s the last time tonight you’ll get to smile. And most likely the last time you’ll ever get to smile with all your teeth. I promised that the end is coming for the entire AOWF. I’ve heard what people have been saying. They doubt me, think I’m blowing hot air. Of course, the people saying this clearly have no idea what I’m capable of. That’s why tonight, one way or another, an example will be made. For REBEL Pro to survive a little while longer, a sacrifice is required. And Sean? You’re the lamb being led to the slaughter. You’re entering the ring with a force of nature and you are woefully unprepared.
The Phoenix: If you want this title, think about what it will take to acquire it. Would you be willing to risk the health of your best friend to get it? I was. I was more than willing, actually. I spilled his blood, I twisted his limbs, made his joints bend in ways no god ever intended. And then I made him do the same to me. I fought Marvin Wood on a physical and mental level and I won. That’s what I was willing to do to win a title I’ve openly admited I don’t give a damn about. I risked friendship and health for something that I didn’t care about.
The Phoenix: That’s the kind of man I am, Sean. That’s why I continue requiring sacrifices from the AOWF. If I’m willing to put everything on the line to win the most meaningless of titles, how can I expect the people around me to not share my burden? I’m destroying the two things I’ve loved most in the world, the AOWF and the PWA, because I’ve seen how low they have fallen, how they’re no longer worthy of their names. I’m ready to burn the world to the ground and rebuild it all by myself.
The Phoenix: Most men in my position, they’d just walk away. I’ve got money, fame… I don’t need any of this. I could relax on a beach for the rest of my days. But I won’t. Because even though the AOWF and REBEL Pro in particular are full of people that shouldn’t be allowed to speak to me, let alone wrestle me, I’m still the Phoenix and that still means something. I’m the greatest of all time and I refuse to let my legacy be tarnished by the filth and garbage that was accumulated here. I’m going to fight, bleed and suffer all in the name of a place I loath and a championship I despise. I’m willing to break men down, to crush and destroy them for fans that hate me. I’m ready to end careers all because I won a title I never wanted but even so, I’m the champion and that means something.
The Phoenix: In short, Sean, I’m willing to do all of that for something I don’t even care all that much about. So tell me Sean, if I will destroy my best friend for this title, just what, exactly, do you think I’m going to do to you?
REBEL Pro World Heavyweight Championship: HELL IN A CELL Match
Sean Robinson versus Rob “The Phoenix” Robinson
Our Main Event of the evening and finale of REBEL’s 2012 pits Robrob versus Robbo, for the World Heavyweight Championship inside a Hell in a Cell, the demonic structure lowering from the rafters onto ringside. At the height of 17 ft and weighing approximately two tons, this enclosure demands no disqualification, time limitless, and a victor by means of pinfall, submission or referee stoppage.
Kanye West’s “Amazing (Heartbeats Remix)” flares to an unbelievably boisterous optimism in the Olympic Stadium. During an immense explosion of hot-red-colored fireworks, out poured dozens of ballerinas (dressed in ‘Ultimate Warrior’ and ‘Macho Man’ attire) dance eloquently as the words “THIS IS WRESTLING” zip-lined across the theater projector screen in bold gold. Atop the steel structure holding together the jumbo tron is Sean Robinson, who performs a sexy-boy dance for all the sweet Angies of the world. Then, in true wrestling fashion, Robbo jumps off the tron to be zip-lined down and land precisely in front of the cell’s door, safely. Earlier in the entrance, Paul Alba went mostly unnoticed as he came in through the crowd to meet Robbo at the door so to open it for him. Sean fist bumps Alba once before entering the cage, thus ending his rather flamboyant introduction.
Europe’s “The Final Countdown” sprays its overplayed yet iconic jizz all up in our ears, but our eyes are forced to endure an impossibly showier firework display than Robbo’s. Instead of ballerinas, three dozen NFLesque cheerleaders wearing sluttier versions of Phoenix’s attire (yes, plus his mask) pompom and high-kick all in the name of AOWF’s & REBEL’s World Heavyweight Champion. Forming a large huddle, the cheerleaders bend forward and shake their asses at the crowd for a bit, and then shoot skyward like wannabe anime characters with huge, toothy smiles as the Phoenix emerges through a rising platform. Standing still for all to behold, the primary AOWF gem of a strap is wrapped firmly around The Phoenix’s waist as REBEL’s most prestigious belt dangles from his clenched fist held upward.
Fast-forward two minutes later since Phoenix spent the rest of his entrance pandering like a smug cunt; the two Robinsons stand face-to-face for the first time. Boiling anticipation is evident from our diehard fans that packed tightly inside the Stadium, likely to witness ultimate solution for many-a-questions in need of answering: which Robinson is the better wrestler, the better champion, the bigger cunt, the least overrated, the worst no-seller and the most flammable? We might not get an answer for ‘most flammable’ though, but who fucking knows, really. You know how these things go.
Referee John Chellios (who Sean Robinson has absolutely no love for as indicated by their short but intense stare-down prior to Robbo allowing Chellios to pat him down – even though this is no disqualification, so there’s no need for that?) raises the REBEL World title for all to see, particularly the main camera positioned far back in the stadium with a centre focus for viewers at home.
A dinging bell cues the beginning, and so both Robinsons lock up for a short-lived test of strength that Phoenix transitions into a wristlock, but one toe-kick to Robrob’s gut breaks that. When Robbo went forward to grab Phoenix, the World Champ thrusts his right shoulder into Robbo’s gut, lifts him and tries to drop him for an over-the-shoulder belly-to-back piledriver, but fortunately for Robbo fans, Sean slipped off. Rolling onto his knees, Sean sees an incoming dropkick in the nick of time, so bends backward for Phoenix to miss and fall onto his side. Robbo quickly applies a modified abdominal stretch with his right knee constantly digging into Phoenix’s backside. Having to twist his body so his arm would be free from an entrapment under his ribs but also allowing Robbo’s hold to become a firm crucifix armbar, Phoenix rolled Robinson into a shortcut schoolboy that did manage a one count, but Robbo flipped the whole thing spectacularly into an arm-trap crossface!!
Using his legs to push against the canvas, Phoenix once more rolls Sean into a schoolboy but instead of actually pinning, Phoenix impressively lifts Robbo with the single-arm entrapped inside a crucifix to sickeningly slam Robbo against his bent knee! Of course, the knee ‘merely’ struck the lower backside of Robbo, but this position also forced Robbo’s neck to take devastating impact against the canvas. Temporarily unable to think clearly, Robbo is forced to endure a sharp jumping knee drop to the abdomen, followed by a beautiful execution of the sharpshooter. It’s in this evidently painful submission (teeth clenched, nostrils flare and eyes shut tight are few of Sean’s indicative facial expressions) where Sean reacts smartly by pushing himself off the canvas and crawl via elbows to the ropes ever so gradually but accomplishes his mission to pull himself over the bottom rope, grab a crowbar lying underneath the ring (for some reason) and swing behind him to tap Phoenix in the shoulder.
Afraid of the next swing being stronger, Phoenix releases his hold, allowing Robbo to spill out of the ring and onto the ground below. Soon after on his feet, Robbo narrowly dodges a baseball slide, and so grabs Phoenix’s legs to drag him out of the ring, but Phoenix grabs the ropes to prevent himself from completely leaving. This only exposes Phoenix’s gut for Robbo to punch several times and then inverted atomic drop Phoenix before being shoved back inside the ring. Pulled onto his feet, Phoenix is whipped across the ring and crashes back-first against a turnbuckle. The space between both is long enough for Robbo to charge all rhinoceros-like but opts out of that cliché to let Robbo regain his balance and swiftly come after him. What follows is a series of hip-tosses, arm drags, some more armbars, but Phoenix’s release belly-to-belly suplex plants Sean for Robrob to capitalize stylishly by means of a rolling moonsault! Two count only, however.
Taken back to both standing, this is only for Robrob to utilize well a combination of arm-trap neckbreaker into a jumping senton, and when Robrob fell atop Sean’s stomach, he swiftly rolled onto his knees, took hold of Sean’s ankle to immediately apply an inverted cloverleaf that also prompted Sean to once again repeat his push up and crawl toward ropes. Unlike previously, Phoenix awesomely kicks Sean in the throat while the submission is intact, causing Sean to plant face-first onto the canvas!! Price of that outstanding prevention is Robrob’s grip loosened, so he dropped Robbo’s legs altogether. Instead of retrying for it again, Phoenix allows Sean to escape to the outside but quickly slingshots over-the-top for a crossbody that mostly hits the left side of Sean, therefore pushing Sean against the cell wall hard while Phoenix lands sideways.
Sure, Sean staggered for a little but this brought Robbo offensive control, which he smartly seized fast through an overhead gutwrench backbreaker rack flipped into a piledriver on the fucking concrete!!!
REBEL Fans: THIS IS INCEST! THIS IS INCEST! THIS IS INCEST!
Larry Gordon: Why are they chanting that?
Rumors abound say a leaked sextape of Sean Robinson fucking his sister is on the internet, though nobody can tell if it’s really him due to predictably funky camera angles, and it’s also an inappropriate play on Robbo’s self-accepted “THIS IS WRESTLING” catchphrase, given tonight’s context. Anyway, as Phoenix laid badly dazed and likely injured on the ground, Robbo grabbed steel steps and returned to slam it against Phoenix’s chest/head, climb onto the top turnbuckle and dove off to double foot stomp the steps; likely crushing Phoenix’s skull inward!!!! Oh god, he didn’t! Somehow Phoenix is only bleeding from the nose. He must have blocked most of the impact with his hands.
Needing to pin Phoenix inside the ring, Robinson brings Phoenix upward but the World champ brought a sneaky uppercut along with him. Next, a powerful Irish whip forced Sean to be thrown into a cell wall so harshly, he drops onto his ass and grabs his head in pain. To worsen things, Phoenix throws the steel steps at Robinson, who luckily catches it before it could hurt him terribly, but unfortunately before he could move it away, Phoenix’s running dropkick cruelly smashes the steps into Sean’s face, breaking the challenger’s nose!
A large section of the crowd: P Dub A! P Dub A! P Dub A!
Most fans: FUCK YOU, ROB-ROB! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP* FUCK YOU, ROB-ROB!
Few fans: THIS IS PANTHEON! THIS IS PANTHEON! THIS IS PANTHEON!
Apparently careless to return to the ring, The Phoenix demands for the cage door to be opened, and Referee John Chellios does so despite his duty obligating him to keep that shit locked! But, this is John Chellios, who does things by his way and he doesn’t give a damn what anyone else has to say because he’s from the rough streets of Sydney where he developed a background in amateur boxing and once saved his brother from a gang of smelly aussies (no offense, macca), but I digress. Guiding a senseless Sean Robinson by the nape of his neck like a bad dog toward the Spanish commentators’ table, The Phoenix occasionally stops to punch the challenger multiple times to keep him in check. Once they approach us, Phoenix lifts and muscles buster Robinson onto the small monitor on the Spanish table!! FUCK! Guys, you don’t understand how fucking messed that is. Our tables aren’t flimsy like most other wrestling promotion’s tables are. It takes a lot to bring these suckers down, so I imagine it wouldn’t feel good at all being slammed on them. Surprised by the tables’ refusal to break, Phoenix leaves Sean Robinson to awkwardly lie across it so.. so he can climb the Hell in a Cell!!! Oh dear, we knew this would happen. But what is he doing? Why is he going up there??
NO! PHOENIX, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! DON’T CONSIDER THIS! IT’S INSANE! IT’S INHUMAN! IT’S DEADLY!
The Phoenix is positioning himself for an immensely high-angled, top-of-the-cell elbow drop that would surely cave in Sean’s chest and certainly end the career of them both!! AH HE’S GONNA – Oh he stopped just before the big leap! Oh, good! He stopped because Sean Robinson is stirring and moved off the table. Thank goodness. Christ, that’d have been sick. Not even REBEL Pro could have handled that extremity.
Halfway up the cage wall, Sean is more than ever noticeably frail but somehow pushes forward to join Phoenix at the top, who had quite the rest. Fans quieted down a lot in preparation for how this bout continues. When Phoenix approaches Robinson, Sean suddenly uppercuts Phoenix’s crotch, which garners a gasp from the crowd as Phoenix falls OFF THE CAGE!!!! NO!! HOLY SHIT! By the ankle, Sean caught Phoenix! Sean Robinson has saved Rob Robinson from doom!
Larry Gordon: Likely so death doesn’t cause the match’s end.
You may be right, but that’s fucking heroic. That’s really humane of Sean to do. A fall off this 17 foot high beast would have an Owen Hart vibe. Also, how the FUCK is Sean Robinson strong enough to pull Phoenix back onto the cell’s roof??? That’s amazing. I’m in rambling awe. Safely next to an exhausted Sean Robinson, The Phoenix rewards his ‘savior’ with courtesy of rest. As the standing Phoenix awaits for Robbo to stand as well, Phoenix says aloud, “take your time.” But Robbo gets to his feet quicker, wanting to meet Phoenix face-to-face once more. Although his desire is met, Robbo cannot properly exchange a dramatic ‘Rock versus Austin’ sequence of punches as a spot like this would usually call for. So, with Robbo collapsing onto a knee from exhaustion, Phoenix nastily knees Robbo in his bloodied face (steel step spot broke his nose, remember?) and performs a hat-trick of 5 back-to-back snap suplexes that dent several areas across the roof of the cell!!
Larry Gordon: Phoenix ought to be careful about that. He could accidentally send them both to a death!
Precisely stopping after the fifth snap suplex lands, Phoenix stands and sees Robbo terribly struggle to even move an inch.
The Phoenix: Take your time.
I can’t tell if he’s being smug now from this camera angle. Assisting Robbo onto his feet by the nape of his neck, Phoenix walks Robbo over to the edge of the cage.
The Phoenix: Take your time.
OH MY EGBAHKBDJBQWFBKJbakjdbcKJDCBsdkvc
PHOENIX THREW ROBINSON OFF THE CAGE! HE FELL 10 FEET! YES, ONLY 10 FEET! YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE ROBBO GRABBED ONTO THE CELL WALL WITH ONE HAND, WHICH HE PROBABLY FUCKING DISLOCATED NOW JUDGING BY HIS HORRID YELP!
A huge mixed reaction occurs. Some chant Robbo’s name more passionately serious than before. Others sing the praise of this being wrestling. Most, however, are shocked by the graphic nature of this match.
Pushing himself up the cage by his feet and using his right arm to climb back to the top while favoring his left arm, with tears in his eyes, Sean Robinson finally makes it back to the top. The Phoenix golf claps for him.
The Phoenix: Well, well, well.
Spitting in Robbo’s face upon arrival, The Phoenix then kicks twice the injured arm of Sean
to be a fucking cunt.
The Phoenix: This is wrestling.
Says Phoenix after forcing the delicate Robbo over to one of the dented spots in the roof, and then underhooks both arms to place Robbo in a familiar pedigree setup, goes to lift, but right then, the dent area slightly gives way thanks to their combined weight! Slipping his leg through the hole, Phoenix is caught off guard, and all Hollywood-flick-like, Robbo reverses by swinging a mad headbutt at Phoenix, blasting him rather super cool!! Dazed by that, Phoenix is easily brought between Sean Robinson’s legs. Doing his best Gerard Butler,
Sean Robinson: “THIS. IS. WRESTLING!”
Lifting Phoenix skyward, the area they stand on collapses, and perfectly (very fucking dreamlike for any wrestling fan) Sean Robinson brings The Phoenix down onto his neck/shoulder blades for THE GREATEST TIGER DRIVER 91 THAT CAN EVER BEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! 17 FEET DROP!!!
Larry Gordon: HE KILLED HIM! ROBBO KILLED ROBROB! AS GOD AS MY WITNESS, SHIT JUST GOT REAL!
Do I really need to acknowledge the crazy reaction from these fans? I shouldn’t have to point how the overwhelming markage, the insane emotion, the chilling moment is; the fact REBEL Pro has just put on the greatest Hell in a Cell match possible, and these fans are bewildered*! Take that, Dome of Awfulness!
Bewildered by the fact The Phoenix did not die from that. His chest is pumping, his eyes are open (along with his mouth) but he’s not moving other than by breathing. As The Phoenix lies against the canvas, Sean Robinson can no longer stand. He has to fucking crawl on his stomach, like a baby. His knees will likely never be the same. A bloody Sean Robinson has tears streaming down his face, overcome with intense emotion as he lays his arm across The Phoenix’s chest. Sean Robinson’s moment – the very thing he lives for – is a mere three counts away! Come on, John Chellios! Count the damn pin! 1.
“Amazing (Heartbeats Remix)” roars loud as can be as Paul Alba hurriedly grabs the REBEL Pro World Heavyweight Championship (he, too, crying tears of joy) and enters through the cell door to present Sean “The Undisputed” Robinson with the championship he unquestionably deserves! Again, Sean cannot sit up, quite possibly due to the immense pain he looks to be suffering, but even though Robinson lays on his back, the close-up camera angle from the rafters shows him hugging his World Championship with not only tears sliding down his face but a huge, bloody grin.
Still, the Phoenix hasn’t moved. I don’t think he can move.
Larry Gordon: LOOK!
Three hooded robed, black masked men of different sizes rush down the rampway but Sean Robinson is oblivious. Paul Alba is not. In fact, tearing a page from Robbo’s book, Paul Alba tries to be heroic by defending Robbo from these mysterious attackers! Well…
Larry Gordon: PAUL ALBA JUST WALKED INTO AN F5! F5 TO PAUL ALBA!
That heroism didn’t pan out well. =( Now the three men are stomping a mud hole into Sean Robinson!
Larry Gordon: Look at the ramp!
It’s a hobo! And a pretentious, oddly wealthy Mexican! It’s the rest of Wrestling’s Undisputed! Here they come to save the daaaaay! When the newly crowned Undisputed REBEL Tag Champions clash with the unknown, hooded figures, it’s the masked guys that beat the shit out of Deicide and Salazar! God, the tag champions are being overwhelmed.
Larry Gordon: It’s the numbers game.
Also because all of Wrestling’s Undisputed had crazy, hard-fought battles tonight. They’re in no damn shape to fight off these people! One of them has laid out Deicide with a Double A flavored spinebuster. Salazar suffers from a GORE GORE GORE by another! Robbo has it worse: figure-four leglock that maximizes the pain in his legs!! As that fucked up submission is in play, the two remaining masked men stomp on Sean’s chest to really lay into him. Security comes pouring down the ramp as the Phoenix finally is able to stand, albeit appearing incredibly weak, but still strong enough to drop an elbow onto Robbo’s chest.
Wait, wait, wait. We’re not over quite yet. Fade back in to that horrible championship aftermath.
That’s it. Now you see that ring, right? That ring in which one Phoenix is standing and the other Sean is knocked the fuck out? Hear the Canadians going batshit crazy? See the balloons and streamers floating about? Well, consider this part a pay-per-view extra. The party is continuing as it really shouldn’t but cialis 30 day reviews does regardless. The champ’s fucked, the world’s mad, the Kalis’ are happy because screw it, they’re making money. Champagne would be flying everywhere but now people are depressed. Blah blah blah. It’s insanity.
Well, ladies and gents, it’s about to get worse.
From the ramp, PuppetVirus, and PuppetSimon arrive with a good fuckton of soldiers at their disposal on foot. Without warning, the forces charge towards the ring with a feverous rush. The jobber minions of He Who Must Not Be Sane quickly spring into action by sliding out of the ring ready to defend themselves. When the PuppetBrigade seems like they’re winning, the Justin Case fans jump the damn barricade and start aiding those shadowy types. It’s a furious battle that the Puppets are starting to lose. Phoenix scratches his chin wondering exactly what the hell is going on.
But just when hope seems lost for our puffed up army, the house lights brighten forcing the people in and around the ring to squint their eyes. Shadowy figures show up in the stairwells and in the stands. They are riding high and tall on their various steeds. Some are short and fluffy. Others big and burly. But with enough squinting, Linzi Martin spots the leader of the pack.
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.
“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!