There Are Always Two.

“Seven Devils” by Florence and The Machines begins to play.

Jenny Jersey: Introducing! Accompanied to the ring by Lacey Gloria!

The crowd cheers as the lights go out in the arena.

Jenny Jersey: He is the AoWF Television Champion, ADRIAN KALIS!

Seven devils all around you!
Seven devils in my house!
See they were there when I woke up this morning!
And I’ll be dead before the day is done!

The entrance explodes with fireworks. Suddenly, walls of flames gush up from the left side of the entrance ramp. A platform begins to raise.

Seven devils all around you!
Seven devils in YOUR house!
See I was dead when I woke up this morning…
And I’ll be dead before the day is done!

The flames circle Adrian and Lacey, who is in Adrian’s arms, holding herself close to him. The crowd jumps to their feet, cheers echoing through the arena. Adrian and Lacey share a passionate kiss in the midst of the flames, and then she slides herself behind him as Adrian steps forward through the flames, lifting his face mask back up. Fireworks pop off all along the entrance ramp beside him, with every three steps he takes. The flames dissipate and Lacey quickly follows Adrian, right behind him smirking. Adrian stops at the ring, looking up into the ring.

They can keep me alive!
‘Till I tear the walls!
‘Till I slave your hearts!
And they take your souls!

Adrian circles the ring, before jumping up on the ring apron and entering.

And what have we done?!
Can it be undone?!
In the evils heart!
In the evils soul!

Adrian lifts up the AoWF Television title with both hands as flames shoot from the four corners of the ring, and the arena is lit by pure fire.

Seven devils all around you!
Seven devils in YOUR house!
See I was dead when I woke up this morning…
And I’ll be dead before the day is done!

Adrian places the belt over his left shoulder, and gets the microphone in his other hand from Jenny. Lacey waves to the fans, as all the orange flags raise up in the arena.

Before the day… is.. Done.

Adrian Kalis: LAS VEGAS!!!!!

The crowd cheers, of course they would.

Adrian Kalis: The last of my blood to finally stand before all of you here in the Underground Arena. It’s good to finally make your acquaintance.

Adrian looks around the crowd and nods respectfully.

Adrian Kalis: Do you see that, folks?

Adrian points to the REBELTron, which is flanked at either side by large black and red Order of Chaos banners.

Adrian Kalis: Most of you may not understand the significance of that, but those flags are there as a constant reminder to all in REBEL Pro and all those across the Alliance of Wrestling Federations as to who it is who is in control of REBEL Pro. A battle which resulted in the effective termination of a dozen individuals, great names and wrestlers who fell to the sword.

Adrian taps his chest.

Adrian Kalis: My sword. Yet! In my zealous pursuit of absolute victory in the first half of this year, I found myself left out in the cold. Underappreciated, unsung for the great work I had done and swept aside by the companies I had done it for. I became an outcast, a nomad. A champion of this community without a home.

Adrian adjusts the AoWF Television Championship on his shoulder.

Adrian Kalis: Fast forward to today and I am the most successful wrestler on the TGW roster, yet with TGW in unknown waters what am I left with?

Fans: REBEL! REBEL! REBEL! REBEL!

Adrian shakes his head.

Adrian Kalis: Not in how you think, folks. You see I am returning to REBEL Pro. My old man has given me full control over the show this week, to do as I please. It isn’t the first time I’ve been the one calling shots in REBEL Pro, and I don’t plan to let it be the last. You see, this compromise that sees me standing here in front of all you tonight is a direct result of the actions I took last week. My old man understands why I did it, but I know him. It wasn’t the first time he placed himself in a title match in REBEL Pro, and I know it won’t be the last.

Larry Gordon: Where is the kid going with all of this?

Linzi Martin: Beats me, Larry. Maybe he’s going to set some clause preventing Simon from competing in REBEL Pro again.

Adrian looks to Lacey, who leans back against the ropes and winks.

Adrian Kalis: Mmhmm. Yes. So. I am booking a match. Except this match won’t be for tonight. This match has been over twenty years in the making, when you really think about it. As Simon Kalis will face me, Adrian Kalis at Merry Time Massacre!

The crowd erupts into full blown chorus of cheers and camera flashes blind the ringside area for a moment.

Larry Gordon: Did he really just do that?

Adrian Kalis: This is what the orange revolution is all about, ladies and gentlemen. To root out the corrupt and unworthy, no matter who they are and what position they are in. And so at Merry Time Massacre, Simon and I will battle for the title of President of REBEL Pro. His title.

Fans: REBEL! REBEL! REBEL! REBEL!

Linzi Martin: Well shit, we may have a new boss Larry!

Larry Gordon: Speak for yourself, I still own 49% of REBEL Pro.

Adrian waits a moment for the crowd to calm down before raising the AoWF Television Championship.

Adrian Kalis: And I will put my AoWF Television title on the line as well.

Larry Gordon: Oh my!

Adrian Kalis: And before you think that’s all? Merry Time Massacre will be taking place at the Olympic Stadium in Montreal, Quebec- the largest building in all Canada for us to fight in. With enough seating

for over 75,000 people! It will be the largest event in the history of REBEL Pro, and on that stage I will take this company back and let the actual REBEL stars fight rather than Rob Robinson and Mark Sommers wannabes acting like this is the fucking PWA.

Fans: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Linzi Martin: He just went there. Ouch.

Adrian straps the AoWF Television title back around his waist.

Adrian Kalis: And the most important part of all? This will be a match that was never allowed in the Pioneer Wrestling Association when my old man and my uncle sought to do it. But here? In REBEL Pro? Anything goes, and we will see the birth of the Kalistic Death Match. Wait until you see this match from hell. Until then? Wave your orange flags, folks. And never forgot! ALL HAIL!

Fans: THE ORDER OF CHAOS!

“Seven Devils” hits again as Adrian drops the microphone and sits on the middle rope for Lacey to exit the ring first. He follows her and they both make their way back up the entrance ramp, slapping the hands of fans as they pass by.

Linzi Martin: What the hell just happened? That was mind blowing announcement after mind blowing announcement.

Larry Gordon: The Kalistic Death Match…

Linzi Martin: What? You know what that is?

Larry Gordon: Yes, I do Linzi. And suffice it to say, one of them will likely lose their career if not their life. Hell, if not both of them.

Linzi Martin: …And Aggression has only just begun.

Basketball Diaries Starring Bobby Lee

Bobby Lee:
“Oooh, my Head!”

Bobby Lee is sitting in his recliner, shaking violently and pressing both hands into his temples. We notice this first, then the fact that he is but ass naked with a bag of ice thankfully covering his testicles.

“Umvne theehe, coowvnet, ggghhhelsing.”

He’s still shaking, probably going through withdrawals.

“Mmnnywoveg.”

He gigles, but winces from the pain in his head, there are still track marks showing all over his body.

“Mowvyay.”‘He’s possibly asleep, but highly doubtful.

“Heemsn doowavllegyiuas.”

He pukes.

{fade}

PLEASE ALLOW ME TO RE-INTRODUCE MYSELF

3:17 P.M. Two days before Misgivings.
Popular Fast Food Restaurant.
Overland Park, KS.
Footage sent in by a fan.

Allen: Hello, sir. Welcome to [REDACTED], How may I help you?

???: Hey! You’re Allen Chaney! Weren’t you AOWF World Champion?

Allens eye twitches and we see a quick glimmer of Allen as a part of A-Squared bringing a steel chair down on several peoples heads. Back to ‘reality’.

Allen: Yeah…Yeah I was.

???: Yeah! Hey, and you used to date Jen Corlen, too! Man, why did you ever break up with her.

Another eye twitch and a glimmer, this time of Allen winning the AOWF world title.

Allen: I…I don’t…

???: Imagine, if you hadn’t of dumped her she might not have been in that car accident and ended up paralyzed.

Another eye twitch and we see Allen unleash brutality on Reece Paxton, Willie Williams, and several other members of the UX staff with a barbed-wire wrapped toy lightsaber.

???: Well anyway, I’ll have a [REDACTED], and a large [REDACTED].

Allen: Your….your total will be 3.58…. Here’s your receipt…

???: Hey, can I get a pic…

Allen: No.

The man walks off in a huff and probably tweets about what a dick Allen Chaney is. Another customer comes up and Allen thinks he is having a flasback again until said possible flashback smacks him hard across the face and yanks him over the counter he’s standing behind. It’s Johnny Maverick, voted ‘Wrestlings Worst Role Model’ for a second year in a row.

Allen: Johnny? What the hell are you…

Johnny: Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Johnny takes an envelope out of his pocket and slaps it against Allens chest.

Johnny: If you waste this, you are going to regret it for the rest of your life.

Johnny takes someones milkshake and leaves. Allen opens the envelope to see a front row ticket for Misgivings. He looks at it for a moment before he looks around at all of the people staring at him. All eyes on him, like it used to be. He smirks. He stands up and takes off his [REDACTED] Shirt and hat and tosses them in the garbage. He turns to ??? and flips him the bird before walking out the door whistling ‘Take this job and shove it’.

———————————————————————————————————-

We find Allen backstage standing in front of a a REBL Pro sign. He’s definitely lost some weight and put on some muscle since we saw him last.

“A Jolly fat man in red WILL be here for the Holiday season, but he’s decided to forego the usual gifts you’d expect and instead is going to be the Oprah of Bionic Elbows.”

We cut to Allens match last week as he levels each of his opponents with ‘The Set-Up’. We hear his audio this time as he states “YOU get a bionic elbow. YOU get a bionic elbow. EVERYBODY GETS A BIONIC ELBOW!”

“I’ve lost a few things since I’ve last been in an AOWF ring. I’ve lost the RXW tag title. I mean, I never actually lost it in a MATCH I just misplaced it after a night of heavy drinking. I’ve lost a shirt sixe, which is pretty nice, and I’ve also lost any sense of giving a fuck about who I have to hurt to get what I want, as seen last week at Misgivings. Ask me how many fucks I give about what manner of hell Simon Kalis has planned for me?”

Allen pauses, as if waiting to be asked.

“None. None is the amount of fucks I give about who Simon puts in my path. I hold no illusion of Simon and I having ‘buried the hatchet’ after all that happened between us in UX. Marina and I beat his ‘Golden boy’ who disappointed the ever-loving shit out of him and his daughter. Johnathan Cage and Maya Kalis? No match for a Porn Star and a Comedian. Do your worst, Si. I welcome it with open arms. I want you to place impossible task after impossible task in front of me and I want to see the look on your face as I plow right through them. For once the only one who is going to be laughing is the Comedian.”

Allen chuckles a little bit.

“That’s the difference between my other job and this one. At the other job I am all about entertaining people. This job? is all about entertaining me. So what does a Comedian do for fun? What tickles my funny bone? Kicking ass like a mad bastard, Bringing a flaming folding chair down on the head of someone who minutes before was questioning my credibility or the fire in my gut, or giving someone the Punchline of ther lives. It’d also be nice to attract the attention of a pretty lady, but I take these things one step at a time.”

Allen cracks his neck.

“So, I drew a handicap match? Never been in one of those, but apparently I’m supposed to be worried about your tweaker underlings. Gasp. Look at all of the worry in my face. I am so worried.”

Allen has no expression on his face at all.

“This is going to be a massacre. I am going to take these two from pillar to post and gice this audience a show of powerthey won’t forget. Every single one of them will be in the palm of my hand before I nail them hard with the finish. That’s just how a comedian does things, guys.”

Allen gives two thumbs up.

“Set-up.”

With a flourish, the thumbs transition to a pair of middle fingers.

“Punchline.”

Allen smirks devilishly before heading offscreen.

Welcome To REBEL Pro- Handicap Match!

Allen Chaney versus Jeremy Gold and Bobby Lee

Seven minutes were spent toying with poor Bobby and shitty Jeremy, but Allen needed something to do this week. And so a big damn clothesline sent Jeremy head over heels, landing on his unlucky neck, and then Allen approached a horrified into a quivering jam, Bobby Lee, to unload a flurry of elbows, in vein of a certain 80s American dream. As result, Bobby’s forehead split open and gave Allen blood to offer as a visual treat for these enthralled fans. Another storm of bionic elbows overwhelmed Jeremy Gold because fuck else does Allen need to prove?

A snap suplex puts Jeremy out of commission, and Bobby gets a leftover of scoop slam into inverted DDT. Standing leg drop quickly follows, but Allen doesn’t lateral press. Instead, the funnyman lifts Bobby off the canvas into a military press and walks to all four separate sides teasing a throw into the crowd! Deciding on the section of tonight’s crowd where a camera is conveniently placed far back in the arena to record ringside, which is the entranceway’s right and announcer’s left, Allen throws Bobby so far, he lands in the fourth row! However, that was due to the momentum Allen gained by running across the ring. Not waiting for fans to settle their markage, Allen’s punchline (package piledriver) predictably lays Jeremy outward for the three.

High Five!

Tony Edison and Erik Loomis are seen preparing for their match tonight against Fine Wine.

Loomis: You gonna choke again like you did last week?

Edison: What the fuck are you talking about?

Loomis: It’s clear, isn’t it? I’ve been carrying you since UX was purchased. It’s like since its no longer under the UX label, you don’t care anymore or some shit.

Edison: Don’t you dare question my love of this sport. I’m the one who brought you in here, and I can take you right back out if I want to. Now are we going to go out there and win this tonight, or are you gonna keep going on about this crap?

Loomis: I don’t know, maybe we aren’t meant to–

Edison: Don’t you dare say we aren’t meant to team. We are the best team in this place, dammit. We’re going to go out to this hole, and show these fans what they paid to see. We’re going to climb that ladder, and retrieve that case!

Loomis: Then we’re gonna be the tag team champions?

Edison: No, but we’re going to be rich. It’s a briefcase full of money, dude, do you not read the memos we get?

Loomis: That works too. How much is it?

Edison: I’d imagine its however much cash Kalis could stuff into a briefcase that size. Because he’s awesome like that, apparently.

Loomis: And our opponents?

Edison: Fine Wine. Stupid name.

Loomis: Who are they?

Edison: I don’t know, but we’re going to go out there and find out. You ready to smash some grapes?

Loomis gives him a nod.

Edison: Good, me too. Now lets go do it!

The two high five, resembling an awkward cartoon friendship moment as we cut.

Vintage

This day, we start anew. A new mixed breed era in wrestling’s advanced showcased talents. I am the solo founder from the ground up of the N.B.W.F New Breed of Wrestler Foundation. You want action come see, Luke. You need packed go See, Luke. You crave never before witnessed watch to see, Luke. Not only is that the name, husbands and boyfriends beware she might wear it out. But that’s a first impression trademarked statement. From momma white daddy black best of both worlds VINTAGE C-Luke!

Fine Wine

Filmed Earlier:

We open inside a very nice looking restaurant. We have a close up of a wine glass being held up. In a few seconds, red liquid begins filling the glass. We zoom out to see a man in a suit holding the glass up as a waiter tells him about the history of that particular pinot noir. We pan across the room to see multiple tables where this is going on, and some where people are spitting into buckets in the middle of the table. Finally, we end at a small table off in the corner of the restaurant. Sitting there are none other than Rebel Pro rookie allumini, Alex Wilkie and Mark McNasty. McNasty is wearing an overdone tux ala dumb and dumber as it is a light blue with a ton of ruffles. Meanwhile, Wilkie is wearing black sweat pants and a t-shirt that looks like a tux shirt. McNasty is toasting to anything he can think of, and thus thrusting his full wine glass in the air multiple times in quick succession. Wilkie is kind of swimming though as his head swings in full circles, trying to stare at his glass which he is holding.

McNasty: HERES TO US! AND HERES TO REBEL! AND HERES TO…um…THE KALIS PEOPLE.

On one of these toasts, he knocks the bucket in the center of the table over. It’s empty…like you didn’t see that coming.

McNasty: AND HERES TO US WHIPPING THE UPROARS COLLECTIVE ASSES!

Wilkie: HERE HERE!

The two goes to toast their glasses, but Wilkie over shoots and face plants on the floor, and McNasty loses his balance and falls backwards in his chair. As he goes back, one leg catches the table and pulls it over with them. We pan to outside where after a few seconds, McNasty and Wilkie are thrown. They pop to their feet, and dust themselves off.

Wilkie: Mark!

McNasty: What Wilkie?

Wilkie: Give me your keys…you’re drunk.

McNasty: Oh…good thinking.

They walk off screen. We now pan to the back of the arena, where we find McNasty and Wilkie sitting on a bench.

McNasty: I know a lot of UX guys don’t know me. Some of them may have seen Wilkie right before the place closed, but they probably never even heard of Grade A Nastyness.

Wilkie speaks in a quasi-sarcastic tone.

Wilkie: But Mark, why ever would you bring this up, when just a few weeks ago you said G-A-N was done?

McNasty: Because Wilkie, earlier this year, when G-A-N came back, people thought we were already done. One tag match later, we were Rebel Pro Tag champs. All I want to convey to these UX boys, is that they better not pull the same bit where they think we are just some crum bums coming out of nowhere thinking we can dominate the tag division. We have experience. We’ve worked together for years. And we beat the hell out of each other over a few belts before that.

Wilkie: I still don’t have all the feeling back right here.

Wilkie presses his finger into a random spot on his arm. McNasty shakes his head as he makes a few *tisk* sounds.

McNasty: Such a tragedy. So, you can understand that you do not have an easy night in for you. Instead, you have two men with four world title reigns between them, looking to waste as little of their precious time as possible while beating you two. Some would say we’re looking to make ourselves over you. Some would say we’re looking to use you to propel this new group of Fine Wine up the ranks. I say, those people are tards.

Wilkie: Binge drinking Tara Reid level tards.

McNasty: Because boys, at the end of the day, Wilkie and myself have already been made. We’ve done everything that can be done in so many feds it isn’t even funny. You know those guys who work their whole life at an awesome job, retire, and then get some shit job just so they aren’t bored? That’s kinda like this. Because you saw the reaction we got just from showing up together in that Rebel Pro ring a few weeks ago. We don’t have to prove anything. Win, lose, draw, people are still going to know who we are. They are still going to love us. And, they are still going to know that it is a bad idea to take Mark McNasty and Alex Wilkie likely. We’ve been declared underdogs plenty of times. And just like messing with real dogs, the people who did got a bite in their ass.

Wilkie: So fellahs, what my long winded friend here is saying, is simply this: as we have already compared ourselves to fine wine, remember that too much of it can lead to a hell of a lot of pain when you have to deal with the hang over the next day.

Wilkie and McNasty smile, before they stand and walk off.

Ladder Match for $100,000 Cash

Fine Wine versus The Uproars

Wrestling’s Undisputed, Deicide & Cesar Salazar, the (Un)disputed Tag Team Champions, join Linzi Martin & Larry Gordon for special guest commentary.

Although a fourteen minute match stipulated under ‘ladder’ rules, this match was relatively conventional. Spots you’d expect from such a showcase, such as Mark McNasty jumping from a top turnbuckle to dropkick a ladder supporting Tony Edison, thus sending him to the outside, but not farther than the barricade. Yes, viewers watched Erik Loomis release powerbomb Alex Wilkie onto a ladder sat on the edge of the apron while the other end rests atop the barricade across, also held steady by a fan, at Erik’s request. Another huge bump came when Erik snuck beneath a climbing McNasty and uppercuts Mark’s groin to halt him, therefore an electric chair were made possible, but Erik waited for Edison to leap off a nearby turnbuckle to missile dropkick McNasty off Loomis’ shoulders! Result being McNasty flew to the outside, tumbling along the ramp at an alarming rate.

Deicide: “If Simon booked us in this match, we’d make it a five star. Not this same-old.”

Cesar Salazar: “These guys aren’t world-class like us, is why.”

The game-changer was a fireman carry stunner by Wilkie to Edison off the very top of the ladder both just finished having a back-and-forth battle of rights, which Wilkie clearly won. The stunner was enough to finish Edison for the rest of the match, to no one’s surprise. While the whole world continued to mark, Wilkie had trouble standing afterward, likely due to his unfit physique and the fact he just fell fifteen feet off the top of a ladder to bring another man down with him. In the end, with only Loomis and McNasty left to retrieve the briefcase, the pair wrestled around for three minutes, as if this were a regular contest. Loomis relied on his boxing background, tapping into a combination of swings you could visualize yourself button-mashing a game controller to achieve. McNasty would eat several crucial shots to the ribcage that nearly kept him down long enough for Loomis to setup a ladder and climb midway, but eventually, McNasty found power to stand and return an uppercut to Loomis’s groin!

Cesar Salazar: “Did you ever low-blow someone in a match?”

Deicide: “Nope.”

Cesar Salazar: “Neither have I.”

Deicide: “Because we’re not unimaginative fucks dirtier than a Guerrero.”

Cesar Salazar: “Guerrero is very famous and beloved in my country.”

Deicide: “He was a great wrestler, yet still halfway.”

Linzi Martin: “In comparison to?”

Larry Gordon: “Them, obviously.”

Deicide: “Correctomundo.”

The final important bump of this match is a full nelson bomb, which McNasty used to force Loomis backward off the tenth rung and into the canvas, harshly. Then, McNasty climbed, unhooked and proudly raised the briefcase full of a total one hundred thousand dollars, to symbolize ‘Fine Wine’s first victory.

Deicide: “That’s likely the most money he’s ever had at once.”

Cesar Salazar: “A working class hero is something to be?”

Deicide: “So they can feast on pork ‘n’ beans, like fat, filthy clones of mongo.”

Hardcore Drinkin’

The Collingwood Football Club theme song hits the Underground Arenas speakers and the crowd comes to life. The REBEL fans seem to be starting to take a real liking to the angry little cunt that is Macca, not to mention the old UX fans that are currently living it up in their old stomping grounds. Macca makes his way out from the back and begins to march his way down to ringside. Stopping only for a moment to grab a six pack off of a fan, Macca grabs a mic before rolling under the bottom rope into the ring. Tearing one of the bottle out of the plastic, Macca pops the lid off of the bottle and takes a swig before lifting the mic to his mouth.

Macca: REBEL hasn’t exactly been kind to me since I made my debut all those weeks ago. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not seen as marketable or it’s just that people don’t like me. Either way it’s starting to get old. One man in particular I thought that I had developed an understanding of mutual respect with was a man who has just recently earned himself a two percent holding of this company and regained his name, Bubba J.

The crowd pop and as they rightly should!

Macca:
After our first match he came out and congratulated me like a fucking gentleman and said he would like to have a rematch sometime, something that I would have been more than happy to do. Last week however he decided to come out and run his fucking mouth. Is having a name back and owning a bees dick worth of REBEL somehow now make you a big shot or something J? Well luckily for the fans and possibly unluckily for you Bubs, there has never been a time that I have not responded to someone calling me out!

Macca takes another drink from bottle as the crowd begins a duelling chant of ‘Let’s go Macca’ and ‘Bubba J’.

Macca:
So the ball is in your court now mate. You called me out and here I am. We can either have a chat and discuss this like men over a few coldies-

Macca lifts up the now one lighter six pack of stubbies.

Macca:
– or you can end up on the ground in a pool of your own blood from a smashed bottle over the skull! So tell me J, what’s it going to be?

The crowd waits, Macca waits, nothing.

“Fuck you.”

This comes from the speakers, but its quickly followed by “Badass” by Saliva as Bubba J, the Ragin’ Redneck himself, comes from the back already holding a microphone and a six pack of Amberbock.

Bubba J:
“You finally decide to come down and answer the summons, like a man.”

He looks around as the UX fans boo loudly, Bubba J only smiles.

Bubba J:
“You come out here with your beer, you try to be like me…”

He steps through the ropes.

Bubba J:
“You think you are some hot shot fucker… but you seem to be doing the same damn thing I did, do, and will always be.”

He looks down at the 5 pack that Macca is now holding.

Bubba J:
“You bring shit beer to your little confrontation… doubt those bottles are even glass.”

J lifts one of his Amberbocks up, placing the carton down on the canvas.

Bubba J:
“Now, this is a beer. This is a real glass bottle. This is a real hard core sombitch that don’t give a shit.”

He laughs right in Macca’s face.

Bubba J:
“But you wanted to sort of call me out on calling you out.”

He chugs some Bock.

Bubba J:
“Don’t say a damn word yet, I’m not finished.”

Another chug.

Bubba J:
“See, then you talk about my dick, like it’s something you’d like to have.”

He laughs as he shakes his head.

Bubba J:
“I’m not strutting around here like I’m some big shot, I’ve just got an… Ace in the Hole” so to speak, something I can use if all else fails. I can strut, I can walk normal, I can win matches, I can lose matches.”

Bubba J tosses the rest back before getting right up in Macca’s face and holding the bottle like a weapon.

Bubba J:
“And I can kick anyone’s ass that gets in my way. Understand that Macca, win or fucking lose, I’m still one of the toughest if not the toughest sumbitches in this arena… your old stomping ground.”

He laughs.

Bubba J:
“I’ll piss on this damn arena, then wipe the drips off my dick right across ya’ll’s precious name. I don’t give a fuck because that is who I am. Give me a beer, give me two beers, give me three beers.. it don’t fucking matter. But what I take exception to is someone coming out here like they know me, thinking they are better than me, thinking they are on the top of the ladder and disrespecting my company… the very fucking company that I helped build up from an indy fed that only ran two to three shows a month.”

A feral grin makes its way onto Macca’s face as he stays right up in Bubba J’s face. There is no give in either of these two men.

Macca:
I bet once upon a time your fairy tale was true Bubs. You where once the biggest dog in this yard, king of your domain as it where. But guess what? You didn’t know it at the time but you where always keeping that throne warm for the true king, and he has just fucking arrived. And you can get that piss out of my fucking face.

Macca slaps the bottle out of Bubba J’s hand and it flies out of the ring. Oh shit I think it almost hit a kid!

Macca:
If I wanted something that was as weak as that piss your drinking then I would have a glass of water.

BOOOOOOO! Oh shit Mac don’t turn the fucking American crowd against you!

Macca:
As for your taking the company from nothing to the top, that’s nothing new for me. I did the same for UX before Salvatore flushed it down the shitter. Everyone was billed as being better than me. Kai Cooper. Gone. Larry Fields. Gone. Mainerishi. Gone. Cesar Salazar. I beat his holiness of wrestling three times in the span of a month. And Sean Robinson? To quote JC himself FUCK YOU SEAN ROBINSON! I don’t think I am better than you Bubba, I know I am better than everyone! And if you want to prove otherwise-

Macca takes a step back out of Bubba J’s face and upturns what remains of his beer bottle onto the middle of the ring before taking one more step back.

Macca:
– here is your line in the sand. Stop me from crossing it J. Stop me from coming in here and becoming the best thing REBEL has ever seen. Go on, make a point! Before you do anything stupid though just remember what happened a month ago when this cunt got you for three!

This crowd is going nuts and these two men look like they may try and break each other at any second now! Bubba J smirks, then removes another beer out of his remaining five. Cracking the top, he continues to smirk then takes a chug before lighting up a cigarette.

Bubba J:
“King huh? Is that really what you think?”

He spits across Macca’s line.

Bubba J:
“Kings die, new kings are reborn, but the lineage is typically the same.”

He looks Macca up and down, then nods as he takes a drag.

Bubba J:
“And you ain’t from my loins, you ain’t my relation.”

Drag, then slow exhale.

Bubba J:
“You beat me… whoop de fucking do son, a lot of people have beaten me, but none have ever broke me. You can’t, you ain’t, and well…”

A smile.

Bubba J:
“It was fucking fun in that match, like I said most fun in a long time.”

He walks over to the spilled beer line, pouring his own on as well, never taking his eyes off Macca.

Bubba J:
“That’s why we ain’t from the same line, but we are two of the toughest bastards to ever step into a ring.”

He indicates the crowd, and the little kid that was hit by the bottle, he sneakily tries to get some drops out of the bottle.

Bubba J:
“That’s why some boo.”

Of course that part boos.

Bubba J:
“Some cheer”

They do cheer.

Bubba J:
“Some just pick their gawd damn nose.”

We don’t wanna know.

He looks down at the now empty beer bottle, tossing it… yup, it hits an elderly lady right in the nose, busting it at the very least; J doesn’t care and neither does Macca.

Bubba J:
“You poured a line in the sand so to speak. I added mine to it.”

He steps in the puddle, Macca follows; both grin.

Bubba J:
“And that’s why we are the tag team known as the Toughest Bastards!”

They both grab a beer bottle, then clink before chugging them both down.

Bubba J:
“Beer drinkin’!”

Macca:
Hell Raisin’!

They both smirk.

Both:
“And ass kickin’”

Saliva’s ‘Badass’ hits the PA once more as the newly formed Toughest Bastards continue to celebrate in the ring.

Larry Gordon:
God damn it! I thought Macca was going to kick that drunkards head in! What a crock of shit!

Linzi Martin:
Well like it or not Larry, these two men seem to now be on the same page and considering what they are both able to do as singles wrestlers they may just take this tag division by storm. Only time will tell on that one though.

Larry Gordon:
Bastards!

Bubba and Macca start to take their party up the ramp and out to the back. The fans cheer them out as we fade to……

Undisputed

We fade backstage where Sean Robinson is just about ready for his match tonight.

“From the flames comes rebirth. That’s the story of the phoenix. The mythical bird that immolates itself at the end of its life cycle, then is reborn anew from the ashes of its own death.

My life here in REBEL has felt like that at times. I started my professional career here, before moving on to bigger and better things in UX. That’s where I made my name. I became Uncensored champion, then I became Undipsuted. Then I redefined what the word Undisputed meant. And then Mainerishi shoved my face into the flames. My career and my life, nearly extinguished in that moment. When I woke up, I couldn’t believe I was alive. My first thought after that, though, was ‘When can I get back in the ring?’ I wanted it. I needed it. This business is my life. Breathing and wrestling are on equal footing in my list of priorities.

So now comes my rebirth. From the ashes of my title reign, my UX career, and the Underground Arena. Here I am, back where it all began, and back on top of it all. On December 17th, in Montreal, seventy-five thousand screaming fans will watch me decimate the so-called Phoenix. But tonight, in these friendly confines, I get to roast Jonathan Cage. It all comes full circle, now.”

We fade to ringside…

Face The Fire Inferno Match

Sean Robinson versus Jonathan Cage

Wrestling’s Undisputed, Deicide & Cesar Salazar, the (Un)disputed Tag Team Champions, join Linzi Martin & Larry Gordon for special guest commentary.

Cage’s entrance wasn’t aired due to him being a big jobber, as of late. So he came out during commercial break, so viewers at home needn’t feel their time was wasted. Robinson, the guy who’s recently beaten blood out of Bubba J, tears out of Anna Mathews and the piss out of Jeremy Gold, on the other hand, got everyone’s attention the second “Amazing (heartbeats remix)” kicked in. Alongside Robbo is Paul Alba, the manager of Wrestling’s Undisputed, who comes out holding a sign which reads, “Wrestling’s Undisputed = truer Pantheon” in spite of Robbo’s ‘Merry Time Massacre’ opponent, The Phoenix.

Deicide: “You fought Cage to become UX’s first Undisputed Champion, right, Cees?”

Cesar Salazar: “I did. It was easy.”

Many technical wrestlers boast knowledge of and threaten to twist a person like a pretzel, but Robinson legitimizes his claim by means of a tilt-a-whirl headscissors takedown transitioned into a single arm DDT floated over into a fujiwara armbar! An over rotated step-over toe-hold sleeper and a seated over-the-shoulder single-leg Boston crab were done just because he could. Effortlessly, Robbo’s hat trick of seven back-to-back tiger suplexes humbled Cage to the point of unconsciousness. From there, Robbo dragged Cage by his hair toward the flames generated by machinery on all four corners of the apron. Similar to Robinson’s own stare into the flaming abyss back at Blacklist 40, Cage sits on his knees, dazedly. During this, Robinson runs across the ring and rebounds to dropkick the back of Cage’s head, sending the bastard flying through the ropes and past the flames! However, Cage’s lengthy, greasy hair caught fire!

Almost on cue, Paul Alba tosses black shades into the ring, which Robbo catches and then puts on.

Sean Robinson: “You’re fired.”

Paul Alba: “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”

The Who’s “Baba O’Riley” suddenly becomes Sean Robinson’s outro song. Alba, Robbo, Deicide and Salazar regroup at the ramp as Wrestling’s Undisputed; the tag belts raised by the undisputed tag champs, and Alba motioning for the world championship around Robbo’s waist.

The Legendary Legacary and Friends!

The beginning to “All of the lights” by Kanye West sounds up as out steps none other than “The Chosen One” Justin Case. Proceeding by his side is his pony tailed plus sized manager, The Wiz.

But right away we notice something very different.

Linzi Martin: Now what is this?! Who is that hanging off the arm of Justin Case?! He’s not even scheduled to be out here!

Larry Gordon: Maybe if you calm down we will get some answers.

And there it is. Susan Boyle hanging off the arm of “The Chosen One” as Legendary Legacary makes his talented way to the REBEL PRO squared circle.

Mic in hand.

Case jumps up on the apron and opens the ropes for Susan Boyle as she enters the ring wearing something you would never expect her to wear. With The Wiz on one side dressed in his suit, Case is dressed in his ring attire, while a twisted smiling Susan Boyle hangs from off Case’s arm.

Linzi Martin: Look at that hooker looking tramp! She has on a black leather jacket, a black t-shirt reading “Cum with me!” in white lettering! Her cleavage leaves nothing to desire as her playboy ear rings hang to her shoulders, with a wide skin tight short skirt and long black heel’s on. Fuck me!

Larry Gordon: I think thats what she’s going for.

In the center of the ring Case puts his mic up to his lips as his music dies off.

Justin Case: Ever since I came back to REBEL PRO WRESTLING, I have dominated my competition!

The arena ignites with boos! People begin to throw garbage inside the ring.

Justin Case: From when I destroyed the corporate suit wearing doped up douchbag, in Jeremy Gold. As then I took a former World Champion and forced him to his knees, in Jonathan Cage. Moving up the ranks by dismantling a man who’s girl I just took from him. And now everyone, I’d like you all to meet my new Valet….Susan Boyle!

Susan is all smiles as she twirls for the camera.

Justin Case: Look at what I have created!

Susan Boyle takes the mic as the boos linger.

Susan Boyle: Shut the hell up!

Wow, that came from her? She smiles as the boos get louder.

Susan Boyle: For years I have been stuck inside this little box, that my people have placed me in, for the sake of my music. But now? Now I get to call my own shots, and Case? Baby, along with The Wiz we will go undefeated! You now have double the back up, and double the pleasure. If you know what I mean.

Linzi Martin: Gross!

Larry Gordon: Yep!

Boyle brushes off her bottom lip as she hands over the mic to her new boy toy.

Justin Case: Next thing I’d like to mention is this. You see, knowing full well I have another match tonight versus Jake Norton, I am not only prepared, but last week on Super Aggression, on his own turf I embarassed him by using Susan Boyle as a means to defeat Norton. In doing so I have altered Jake Norton’s future inside REBEL PRO WRESTLING forever!

The boos begin to quiet down.

Justin Case: You see, I now have proof. If you all are wondering why Jake Norton was fired from Underground X. Among a shit load of other reasons, I now have proof of the real reason Jake Norton was let go from his contract in UX Wrestling. The proof will come in due time. Right now all you need to know is this. Jake Norton was fired because he was caught betting on Underground X matches for money! And who’s to say he won’t start betting on REBEL PRO matches? Now we all know we cant have that going down within a licensed professional organization. So now what?

Silence.

Justin Case: Soon the proof will come. I can promise you all that. But tonight I will show Jake Norton a thing or two on how to lose.

LL pauses.

Justin Case: You can bet on it.

The new threesome laughs out loud as we go to commercial.

Merry Time Massacre 2012: Blood in the Snow

We fade in to an overhead view of the Olympic Stadium in Montreal, Quebec Canada at night with the island city’s night sky lit up behind the giant dome with snow falling over the island as “Skyfall” by Adele begins to play…

This is the end…
Hold your breath, and count to ten…

A flash over the screen, and The Phoenix is seen in the stands watching from high above within the empty Olympic Stadium, both the AoWF and REBEL Pro World titles one on each shoulder. Grainy black and white images are laced in the background and we see The Phoenix standing victorious over Marvin Wood with both the AoWF World and his then newly won REBEL Pro World title. As they fade we see them showing The Phoenix’s first “win” of the REBEL Pro World Championship. We see The Phoenix stand up amongst the seats, looking down towards the ring with anticipation.

Feel the earth move…
And then hear my heart burst again…

Flash. Sean Robinson stands before us, inside the ring in the grand Olympic Stadium. We close in on him and he delivers his trademark smirk as he looks up into the stands. As we fade, there are more grainy black and white images laced into the background showing Sean Robinson capturing the REBEL Pro Carolina’s Championship a few years ago along with his recent triumphs as UX Undisputed Champion. Sean Robinson climbs the turnbuckle in the empty ring, and points skyward as the dome above him opens.

For this is the end…
I’ve drowned and dreamed this moment…

A quick flash brings us to The Legendary Legacary himself, standing tall and proud with his arms crossed. Susan Boyle to his right, The Wiz to his left. Behind them are more grainy black and white images, showing the days of Justin Case’s two reigns as REBEL Pro World Champion and the look in his eye now that says he’s heading back to the top.

So overdue I owe them…
Swept away, I’m stolen…

Among her are the various puppets we’ve all come to love, as Anna stands outside the Olympic Stadium admiring the structure. She smiles, waving for the camera as both her REBEL Pro Aggression and Tag Team titles shine with the fresh snow falling over them. As she steps forward towards the Stadium, we can see the images of her many great victorious in REBEL Pro laced in the background around her with the lasting image of her bloodied face and broken body. Anna just shakes her head and suddenly she and those affectionately dubbed No Sellers Anonymous disappear leaving us with falling snow.

Let the skyfall, when it crumbles…
We will stand tall, or face it all together…

He takes a deep breath, perched above the entire area above the world’s tallest inclined tower connected to the Olympic Stadium, dubbed the Monteal Tower, and flicks some ash down. Simon looks up, sadness yet readiness in his eyes as the grainy black and white images laced around him show us some of the bloodiest moments in his career. The one that lingers is Riona Langly crushing his eye in the Glass Chamber, but Simon still holding the PWA World title with it covered in his blood… He flicks his cigarette away and lowers his head.

Let the skyfall, when it crumbles…
We will stand tall, or face it all together…

Adrian steps out of a cab, with Lacey Gloria right behind him. They both notice the footsteps of tiny puppets and Anna Mathews, and how they suddenly stop in the snow. He smirks as they walk hand in hand toward the arena. Around them are images from Adrian Kalis’ career; grainy, black and white which show him executing Fley of the Masters of Armageddon with Matt Stone by his side, ending the MoA’s war and cementing The Order of Chaos’ victory earlier this year. The laced images pause with Fley’s head being cracked in half, with one more shot of Adrian Kalis holding the AoWF Television up. He enters the arena with Lacey Gloria, ignoring us and showing he has but one intention in mind…

At Skyfall…
That skyfall…

Voiceover featuring Ron Pearlman: REBEL Pro presents, Merry Time Massacre 2012. Live, from the Olympic Stadium in Montreal, Quebec Canada. There will be blood on the snow.

Everything begins fading to black…

Voiceover featuring Ron Pearlman: War… War never changes…

To The World, V

Unlike previous segments, when we return from an advertisement teasing ‘Merry Time Massacre’, viewers alike are treated to a voice that booms throughout the arena, without notice.

Jake Norton: “Wrestlers believe in this curse that if they don’t cut a promo, it’s almost as if an automatic loss happens. Quite silly, really, but last week, maybe I was cursed. After all, I didn’t cut a promo, but that’s because I felt there wasn’t much to share that I haven’t touched on already. Few weeks ago, Justin Case and I battled in a ‘First Blood’ match that saw me, well, crack him with a wacky bat given to me by Bubba J. Case bled out and I emerged victorious, to the surprise of no one.”

During that paragraph of confession, Norton has passed through the curtains, came down the ramp and is now currently sitting on a barricade, facing a section of tonight’s audience.

Jake Norton: “I thought Case and I were done, at that point. But Simon Kalis saw us both fit to compete for a contendership at adorable Anna’s Aggression strap. And you know? That’s cool. I’d been down for that. Even though for a little over a month I’ve been preaching about defining a World Champion, that’s what every smart wrestler is supposed to do, coz that’s not just the primary prize but ultimate goal of all spandex-wearing cunts. But many people tend to overlook the social significance of a secondary belt. Sometimes it appears to just be there for others who’re not capable of headlining or drawing crowds, such as Justin Case; to keep them happy, so to speak.”

Falling backward off the barricade, Norton flips onto his feet, safely. Opting to now walk around ringside, Norton’s pace is at one a person at the beach would walk, possibly at sunset or something similarly cheesy.

Jake Norton: “But, no. The Aggression Championship doesn’t have to be seen as only a launch pad or stepstool, or whatever it is critics refer to it as. Look at Anna Mathews, a former world heavyweight champion that treats the Aggression belt just as valuable. Though that might be simply coz it shines, so she sees no difference, but regardless, that equivalence is welcomed. The Aggression could be used to define a division, to create a purpose, or develop a reputation. Who knows? That depends on who beholds.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Norton looks at the cameraman following him.

Jake Norton: “I tell you all my opinion because I do wish I didn’t fuck up last week. See, even though I’m the ‘cancerous bastard’ who likes ‘stirring the pot’ and brainbustering old people –“

Crowd pops for that.

Jake Norton: “I have, I’d say, respectable and knowledgeable ideas and beliefs. I’m not close-minded, which explains why I can be so damn radical. And lately, the businessman mindset has given me an undefeated streak. Sadly, I should say ‘had’. Again, we come full circle to last week’s consequence. Earlier I mentioned a curse and how some reckon – like Linzi Martin- it affected me. “

Off-screen yet still audible, we hear Linzi chip in with “I did tell him that” to Gordon.

Jake Norton: “And she’s wrong. There is no curse. I was warned about Susan Boyle’s attempt, by the ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ runner-up herself.”

Norton exaggerates a gasp of shock.

Jake Norton: “How dense is that? She wasn’t vague about it at all. Wait, here, I’ve brought the letter with me.”

Removing a paper that’s been visibly pressed between his hip and orange colored spandex for this entire promo, Norton unfolds it and starts to read.

Jake Norton: “To Jake Norton. You think you’re really clever, don’t you, Mister Norton? Or should I call you Mister Cheater! That’s right, Norton. The whole world knows you couldn’t have beaten Justin Case without Bubba’s aid. How would you like it if someone hit you on the head with an aluminum baseball bat from barbwire hell? Maybe you ought to find out, Mister Cheater. My mother used to tell me – this was before she died and left me with a house of cats that I fucking despise, so I starve them for fun and only feed them crumbs, mind you – she had eyes in the back of her head. Well, Mister lazy-eye, cheating fuck! You better pray to the Old Gods that you can borrow yourself a pair for this week. Let’s just say I got me a front row ticket to Misgivings. And it’s not to promote my upcoming album ‘Standing Ovation’ available in stores everywhere now! Sincerely, a rather talented fan of godly talent, unlike you.”

Looking up from the paper, Norton’s eyes scan the indifferent crowd.

Jake Norton: “Yeah, well. Turns out the Old Gods are cheaters, too. I gave them my faith and in return, nothing! How appropriate. So, I never saw that crazy bat coming. Actually, I did, up on the jumbo screen, but, you know what I mean. But anyway, that’s why I lost last week. Not because of some dumb curse. Simply over Susan Boyle interfering; though, it’d be hypocritical of me to complain since once upon a time I’d have done the same underhanded tactic to ensure I won, too. Yet, that’s when I was a slimy, apprehensive worm. Sort of like Justin Case is today, except he excels at overrating himself.”

Sliding inside the ring finally, when Norton stands, he points skyward to the steel cage that has yet to descend.

Jake Norton: “This is where the steel cage comes into play. After waking up hospitalized last week, I was pissed. Seriously, Justin Case successfully pissed me the fuck off. Throughout recent days in social media, we have people left and right crediting Justin Case as the guy who ended my undefeated streak; “a monumental feat” they say, yet blatantly ignoring the interference. Oh well, that’s the media spinning stories as they please, eh? The thing is I don’t want Justin Case heading to ‘Merry Time Massacre’ with that unfounded ‘pure’ victory on his shoulder. People must never forget that Justin Case is unfathomably stupid and should never be allowed to hold anything prestigious.”

A short pause follows, and then a chuckle.

Jake Norton: “Even though he’s already held the REBEL World Heavyweight Championship, twice. Anyway, Simon Kalis agreed to book a steel cage match so we can settle this dispute once and for all. These fifteen feet high walls of steel ensure that there will be zero outside involvement. To be fair, this isn’t only because crazy Susan Boyle is in attendance, but we all know that Bubba J has a very deep hatred for you. Seriously, that guy sneaks ways to mention you into his promos every week, it seems. Then again, it has become unnecessarily essential to take a shit on you so people don’t fucking forget you are awful and need to stay put in the jobbing category of Jeremy Golden.”

That drew a lot of laughs.

Jake Norton: “Technically, Justin, neither of us has defeated each other in the traditional sense. I’m looking to fix that. No more usage of baseball bats between us. As moronic as this is, I need to fucking prove I can pin you for the one-two-three. That is how I’ll redeem my embarrassing loss to you. The boring truth is, yes, you absolutely suck, and even when I pin you, it’s not going to drastically improve my career. Hell, it won’t even be considered a win, by slang sense. It’s just fucking expected. Still, even if the critics won’t be writing home about me dropping you on your brain-damaged head, I’m going to give you all I got, because that’s what I preach. A World Champion performs topnotch and delivers unparalleled quality because it’s expected of someone who wants to represent a company, an industry, and a profession, no matter who stands across.”

The cage is now starting to lower.

Jake Norton: “That’s just the general idea of a World Champion. Me, I got vision. Me as World Champion will be more graphic and foul, just as REBEL likes it. I think it’s time I start revealing this image by pounding your cunt so hard, it’d be as if my fists were aluminum bats covered in barbwire. And that takes talent.”

Tossing the microphone to referee John Chellios, Norton watches the cage settle atop the apron and awaits the ever so talented, Justin Case.

Cage Match: Norton V. Case III

Jake Norton versus Justin Case

The last image of the promotional video is still bright in the arena as the lights begin to brighten slowly, the last words echo still in the ears of the fans. The entire arena is buzzing from the anticipation of the cage match set to take place as they notice that there is something surrounding the entire ringside area, except for that of the announcers’ table; which has been set outside of the massive cage. The structure is made of cage wire, with several strands of barbed wire woven in for both effect, looks, and the obvious flesh tearing that is set to take place. At the top of the cage is strands of razor wire, looped as though this was a prison, which in some aspects it is. Several weapons hang from loops on the cage, hammers, chairs, kendo sticks, bats, lead pipes, and a rubber duck are among the items, though more are there as well.

Linzi Martin: What a massive structure, one of these men may not walk out alive.

Larry Gordon: Don’t be so over dramatic, it is so woman-like of you.

The door of the cage sits at the bottom of the ramp, open and waiting on the two combatents.

Linzi Martin: These two men will not leave the Den of Damnation the same way they walked in.

Larry Gordon: Do you have fake tits?

Linzi Martin: I’ll sue you for sexual harrassment if you mention that again.

Larry Gordon: Just something to pass the time, just curious.

Linzi Martin: To those hot guys with lots of money, unlike my broadcast partner who is no longer majority holder in Rebel Pro stock, they are real all the way.

Larry Gordon: all two inches worth.

Linzi Martin: Is that what your wife said Larry?

The banter is cut off as the lights dim again, showing several clips, in a very fast paced video package, of the matches, past words, and confrontations between Justin Case and Jake Norton. As the video package comes to an end, its replaced with Case vs Norton III Den of Damnation… fading into a live shot of the arena with the focal point being the cage.
Jenny Jersey: The following match is the Den of Damnation, with only one winner, only one loser, and the way to win the match will be revealed after enough blood has been shed from these two.

The crowd roars their approval.

Jenny Jersey: Introducing first!

“E.T”‘s theme begins to play.

Jenny Jersey: Jake Norton!

Jake is already in the ring, because he doesn’t have a cool entrance like most of the cool kids.

” Victory ” by P Diddy and company hits the P.A. Out comes ” The Millennium Game ” Justin Case! He stands at the entrance way, with his manager behind him, as pyro shoots on either side while he raises his oh so talented arms in the very talented air! Case struts down the ramp as Hugh Aredone limpingly lingers behind. He struts to the squared circle with a cockily arrogance that only he can endeavor. Once from inside the ring, he steps to the second turnbuckle and poses for the crowd on hand. Whether they like him or not, it does not matter. His manager hits his cane on the apron showing his approval. Jumping off the ropes he prepares for the match pulling on the upper rope as his music ends.

Ding Ding Ding Ding

Both men circle in the cage, wanting to keep away from the flesh tearing carnage, but wanting to get close enough to throw their opponent in there as quickly as possible. Collar and elbow, Jake with a go behind. Case goes to fall forward, but balances on one foot, spins, throwing Norton(who is still clinging to Case) against the cage wall!

Larry Gordon: First blood!

Norton winces, coming down, Case charges in, Jake drop toe hold sends Case face first onto a tack covered turnbuckle!

Linzi Martin: Case with a face full of tacks!

Case yells at the pain of the pin holes, pulling himself off and dripping blood from the wounds. He spins around, Jake with a big boot, but Case ducks under, tripping him up nailing him with an uppercut to the chin. Norton stumbles back, Case presses his advantage with a right, left, right right right, left left, right combinatio and Norton is on the wrong end of that exchange.norton is in a world of hurt and here comes Case pressing his advantage with a running knee. Norton lifts his body, driving both feet right into Case’s snarling face; it rocks him back on his heels. Norton charges in with a clothesline and tackles Case down to the mat where both roll around throwing punches, kicking, and possibly biting as nothing seems to have been solved here in this match, nor in the past two that they’ve had. Case with a punch, Norton with one of his own, Case retaliates, but Norton isn’t outdone when he lands a meaty fist to Case’s right eye.

Linzi Martin: They are like kids on the playground!

Larry Gordon: But with tons of fans and weaponry to aid them in this fight.

Norton with a shot right to Case’s “dice” gets him a snarling advantage as well. Case is bleeding, Norton is bleeding, but neither seems to want this to end in the other’s favor. Norton pulls him up, whipping him into a broken glass corner, Case screams from the sudden sharp pain and stumbles out clutching at his back as Norton grins saddistically. Norton charges in, Case slices his chest with a piece of glass from his recently violated back, Norton stumbles back from the onslaught with the deadly weapon. Case looks like a man on a mission of destruction and terror, or much more like a homeless guy looking to mug Norton of his win; which is likely the Case, except for the homeless bit.

Linzi Martin: What savagry!

Larry Gordon: You like it, you always have.

Linzi Martin: Damn right! WOOOOOOOOOO!

Case charges in again, Norton catches the wrist, ducking under into a half-nelson. He drops down, but Case rolls over, causing Jake to land on his back knocking the wind out of him. Case is up, kicking Norton right in the head for good measure before taking a steel c hair off the cage and coming back to slide it under the ring and follow it in. Case winds up, smashing Jake in the head with a golf swing, trying to make a hole in one, but he’s about six feet from the green.

Larry Gordon: What a shot!

Linzi Martin: I think Jake may be done. How can you win this match?

Larry Gordon: Unfortunately the acting Commissioner hasn’t revealed that yet.

Linzi Martin: Oh, you aren’t the acting Commissioner?

Larry Gordon: …

Case sets the chair up, going for his finisher onto the chair, but Jake trips him up, coming up and firing that slice of glass right into Case’s side. Case spins from the pain and Norton launches himself at Case, bulldoging him through the ropes and to the outside! Norton is up somewhat quickly fighting on sheer instinct, as that shot to the head should have knocked him out; his eyes are glazed anyways. Norton whips Case into the cage, back to the apron, where he rubs his face across the barbed wire there, probably making his face a scarred mass for Susan. Norton lifts Justin up, suplex onto the debris strewn floor.

Kabooooooooom!

Linzi Martin: C4 explosive!

Larry Gordon: Money, money, money… that isn’t cheap you know.

Both men are shocked, burned, and beaten, but the match still continues until the word of how to finish it comes down. Norton is barely able to pull himself up, Case is much the same in fact Justin hasn’t moved yet. Norton stumbles away to the ring, pulling out a table from underneath that is already wrapped in wire, light tubes, tacks, glass, and a rubber chicken leg. Norton grabs the leg, tossing it behind him to land on the still unconscious Case before he pulls out a ladder, a can of lighter fluid, and a box of matches. Case begins to slowly get up, rolling over then pulling himself up with the help of the ring apron. Norton is setting up the table and preparing it like he’s going to roast Case for Thanksgiving! Case is up to his knees, woozy from the large amount of blood loss, and here comes Jake over to do some more damage. Norton bends down, Case hits him with the chicken leg! It explodes right into Jake’s face causing him to spin around in circles clawing at his eyes and actually screaming from the pain as the heat is extremely intense.

Linzi Martin: C4 again?

Larry Gordon: Not sure, but it was definitely a bang.

Linzi Martin: Just Too Talented! Right into the damn burning table!

Larry Gordon: But a pin can’t take place, there is no idea of what it takes to win this match!

Case falls into the flames as well, but they are put ot for the most part, thanks to the quick response of the Jimmy Johnson volunteer Fire Department, the one man crew that it is. Jake is burnt, broken, bloody; Case is the exact same, and neither man is moving at this point. Johnson is helpless to do anything else, but check if they are still alive, when Case begins to stir or at least his fingers clench in a stiff looking motion. Johnson steps back and nods that they are still alive, t hough he looks a bit worried that no word has come from the back about how to proceed to obtain a winner. Jake is moving, Justin is moving, both are hesitantly and ever so slowly moving to their feet.

Linzi Martin: Sorry fans, but there is no action to call, they are still struggling up to just their knees.

Larry Gordon: This match is going to destroy one of them, but neither will be the same; this is definitely a feud ender!

Linzi Martin: Maybe not, they do have a lot of hatred for one another.

Both are up, their flesh cooked and the blood that had ran is now dry, though fresh blood still seeps from the numerous wounds on both men. Case with a right, Norton with one of his own, though neither has power behind it and the hits are less than effective on even a wet paper bag. Both fall back and shake their head before stumbling towards each other to exchange furious rights; they fall back from each other, not much left in the tank for either man. Case charges in, Norton with a back body sends him into the ladder, it falls up against the cage wall, Norton begins to climb towards something in the top level of the cage. Reaching up, he grabs a set of firecrackers and smiles before Case moves and causes Norton to slam first into the cage then fall backwards to land back first in the ring; the firecrackers still in his grasp.

Larry Gordon: What a fall!

Linzi Martin: I think he broke Norton!

Justin is struggling up, crawling his way to the ring, then under the apron as he is blinded by the blood in his face. Case grabs something, pulling out two sheets of glass then slides them into the ring, before gasping for breath as he leans on the apron. Case forces himself up to prop the sheets of glass on two chairs, before placing the second sheet on another set of chairs on top of the first level.

Linzi Martin: This doesn’t look good, not at all.

Larry Gordon: Not for Norton anyways, its just what he deserves though, filthy Ux’er.

Case slides back out, gingerly as he’s a mass of torn flesh to get the ladder; then he struggles, but manages to get it back into the ring.

Linzi Martin: Just Too Talented from the top of that ladder?

Larry Gordon: Then there will be no choice only to stop the match, no way this could continue.

Jeremy Gold: The winner of the match must keep his opponent from answering a thirteen count.

Larry Gordon: A thirteen?

Linzi Martin: Its unlucky for most.

Case smiles as he lifts himself up one more rung, on his way to the top of the ladder. Norton looks up, kicking the ladder with every single thing he can muster; Case reaches up, holding onto the barbed wire cage.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzk!

Case falls, shoulder and neck first through the table!

Linzi Martin: Norton is somehow up to his feet!

Larry Gordon: Case is dead! He’s got to be dead!

Jimmy Johnson begins his count.

One!

Norton is out on his feet, his head lowered and blood pouring from all of his wounds.

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Case isn’t moving at all, only shallow breaths.

Linzi Martin: At the very least he’s got broken ribs!

Ten!

Eleven!

Susan is crying large tears on the outside.

Twelve!

Thirteen!

Ding Ding Ding

Jenny Jersey: Winner of the match… Jake Norton!

“E.T”‘s theme begins to play again.

The Sacrifice

“Welcome Home” starts to play on the arena’s speakers as REBEL Pro World champion, the Phoenix comes out. He’s wearing his AOWF World title belt around his waist. Notably, the REBEL Pro belt is nowhere to be seen. The champ walks to the ring, basking in the boos of the crowd. These people hate him nearly as much as he hates them. Not even close to how much he hates REBEL Pro, though.

The Phoenix: You know, my match tonight, I think it perfectly embodies everything that’s wrong with this company. Here I am, the greatest wrestler and the biggest star this sport has ever known and what does REBEL Pro do with me? They throw an endless stream of no named losers at me. Is the plan to bore me so badly that I eventually lose the title by getting pinned while I take a nap?

The Phoenix: But that’s not what’s really bothering me. What I can’t stand is that I’ve stated time and time again that my one and only goal in life is the complete and utter destruction of the AOWF. That’s all I want. But REBEL Pro seems intent on destroying itself before I get a chance to.

The Phoenix: So I guess that just means I’ve got to step my time table up a bit. I’ve been taking things slowly lately. I wanted to let the suspense build, let people start to worry more. But I’ll be damned if I let you destroy yourself before I get to. For weeks now, the AOWF has seen me and my friends attack people. You’ve seen me tearing down Jethro Hayes with match after match of brutality.

The Phoenix: So tonight I’ll start things in earnest. Tonight what I do… what I have to do to Bubba J… That’s on all of you. It didn’t have to happen this way. I could have kept up with the slow build, but my hand has been forced. Tonight, there will be a sacrifice and the blood that I spill will be all…your…fault.

The Phoenix drops the microphone and heads backstage.

Out of The Furnance…

Bubba J:
“Out of the Furnace and into the Flame”

“Ya like that little play on words there? As if any of you fuckers actually read the titles, you just wanna watch us cuss, drink beer, shoot birds, bleed, make others bleed…”

He chuckles.

“Damn, sounds like a typical Rebel Pro show, but more importantly a Bubba J match.”

The camera lightens to show Bubba J sitting on a bar stool inside of Hardcore Drinking, a bottle of Jack Daniels beside him and an ashtray that Heidi should probably empty, if he’d stop putting butts in there.

“Hiya Phoenix.”

He waves the cigarette around in a genial wave.

“Fuckhead.”

He smirks, tapping the ash.

“I’ll get to your ass in a minute, but first there are some things that Sean Robinson must know.”

A loud belch and he rubs his stomach.

“Sean, its true Bobby Lee almost beat me and if he hadn’t hit himself in the nuts… he may just have known that. You aired that out like its some early breaking news on the Fox News show, like its something we didn’t already know, most importantly like I didn’t know it either… fuckhead. But what you failed to even mention in passing, something that everyone else with a gram sized brain knew… is the sumbitch was hyped up on steroids that Larry Gordon was feeding to him like candy.”

A raised eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you mention that Sean? I mean, you tried to make me look weak, but you failed to state the gawd damned obvious… and that sir… is why you are a bonefied fuckhead.”

He waves his fingers at the camera.

“Now go on and brag about how you beat Bubba J. Brag about how you get a shot at the Rebel Pro World Champion. Brag until your throat is sore like you’ve been blowing cock to get things, because that is the only gawd damned way you could ever be the longest reigning champion, unless the event is sticking your nose up an asshole at the top of the pecking order. Damn, you’ve got to be a bigger fuckhead than Phoenix, who’s waiting in the wings for his chance to be mentioned like a first grader waiting to know if his pink duck will get him an “A” in the class or if’ll he have to repeat because there are no pink fucking ducks.”

He smirks.

“But don’t go far Sean, this with you and me is far from over. I did not fail to notice that you mentioned nothing about how you failed to make the Extreme Elite group… fuckhead.”

Another smirk, a tap of the ash, its nearly finished.

“Now to my favorite bird brain.”

He chokes down a shot of Jack, wincing then sighing.

“Damn, nearly choked on saying that, forgive me but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to say that… especially to think of you being the Rebel Pro World Champion.”

A glint in his eyes.

“And I already know that you don’t have the balls to put that title on the line, I know you are too prideful, after being burned so many times, to do that.”

He nods.

“So I’m not even going to bother. I’m going to list a few things here Phoenix, I’m going to get a few things off my chest.”

He looks down, putting out the cigarette and lighting up another quickly.

“I don’t like you, not many people do, and its doubtful that anyone believes your vision for a a rebirth of anything.”

A shake of his head.

“It isn’t like you are a blind guy with a different kind of vision. You are a fucktard, with nothing really but a strap that belongs on pretty much anyone but yourself and how you managed to obtain it… I’ll never know.”

A smirk.

“If you want me to list the ways I’m going to legally destroy you in the ring, you are dead wrong and its time for you to be reborn from the ashes…”

He taps an ash.

“But I don’t see that happenening, you are way past gone and into the land of insane that not even therapy would do a damn thing but waste your money. But it doesn’t get any easier this week buddy, old pal.”

Another chug of liquor.

“Cause the chances are pretty heavily in the favor of a concussion.”

A chug.

“A bit of flesh tearing.”

Another shot.

“A bit of whining.”

Shot.

“A chair.”

Shot.

“And maybe some weapons.”

Shot.

“Maybe some fire.”

Shot and a smirk around the bottle before a drag on the cigarette.

“Because Phoenix, I’m going to wrap you up and bake you like the turkey that was forgotten in the freezer. I lost to Sean, I’ve lost to others, you’ve lost to other people, you’ve bled. I’ve bled.”

He snickers darkly.

“But you haven’t bled like you are going to bleed this week.”

He nods.

“Hold your wife close, kiss her good-bye, because the next morning… you’ll have so many holes in your flesh that she’ll be able to use you to water her flower garden.”

Shot.

{fade}

Non-Title Match

Bubba J versus The Phoenix

Jenny Jersey: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first!

The chorus of Saliva’s “Badass” hits up in the speakers and the Rebel-tron stays pictureless.

“Cause I’m a badass
And you don’t want to clash
Cause your mouth’s writing checks that your face can’t cash
Cause I’m a badass
And this war is your last
You just crossed my path and I’ll drop you fast”
The song transitions to the first verse.

“I need you to hear this loud and clear”

As the first lyric begins to play from Saliva’s “Badass”, Bubba J walks from the back and stares out to the crowd, his fists wrapped in tape and then dipped in broken glass.

“The line and the sand is drawn and I have no fear
When I see red all I need is a reason to set me off
To drop this bomb and pick yourself off the ground”

He slowly begins to walk down the ramp, just staring into the ring, in his own “zone” he pays very little attention to anything surrounding him. No fireworks, nothing spectacular, nothing flashy; just music and him walking.

JENNY JERSEY: From Durham, North Carolina; he stands at six feet and two inches while weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds… “The Ragin’ Redneck” Bubba J!

Bubba J steps up the ring steps before climbing through the ropes. Bubba J then steps over to his corner, facing the entrance ramp and waiting on the damn match to begin.

“Cause I’m a badass
And you don’t want to clash
Cause your mouth’s writing checks that your face can’t cash
Cause I’m a badass
And this war is your last
You just crossed my path and I’ll drop you fast.”

Jenny Jersey: And his opponent!

The arena lights shut off and several seconds of silence pass. Then, in the darkness an old man’s voice begins to sing…

Oh Death
Oh Death
Won’t you spare me over ’til another year?

Pyro explodes around the entrance ramp and stage area. As the flash from the lights fade, we see a figure standing there in a long black robe, his face hidden behind the large hood. In his hand is a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. As the fires continue to burn along the ramp, the figure advances to the ring. As he passes each fire, it extinguishes. Finally, he reaches the ring steps and climbs in before pulling back the hood, revealing the Phoenix, wearing a new black and white mask instead of his normal black and red.

Jenny Jersey: He is the Alliance of Wrestling Federations and REBEL Pro World Heavyweight Champion… THE PHOENIX!

DING DING DING

And we’re off, with Bubba J immediately lunging at The Phoenix and throwing heavy lefts and rights towards the champ in quick succession. The fans are immediately on their feet, cheering as Bubba grabs The Phoenix by the head and pulls him down, while simultaneously bringing his knee up and cracking Phoenix in the face. He pummels The Phoenix into the corner turnbuckles before Phoenix slides down with a number of haymaker punches, his head resting on the middle turnbuckle as Bubba begins stomping down on Phoenix’s chest and head to the enjoyment of the fans. Bubba J with two middle fingers for Phoenix before going for another stomp but Phoenix rolls his head out of the way along the turnbuckles and ropes before slipping himself out of the ring. The Phoenix keels forward, clutching his reddened chest and throat before looking back up into the ring and shaking his head. Bubba J yells obscenities at the REBEL Pro World Champion, but the Phoenix ignores him and remains on the outside of the ring.

Larry Gordon: No count outs. If that raging bastard wants Phoenix he’ll have to go out and get him.

Linzi Martin: Looks like Bubba heard ya Larry.

Bubba J slides out of the ring and begins giving chase to The Phoenix. Phoenix grabs the time keeper at ringside

and shoves her in front of another haymaker from Bubba just in time, making Bubba knock her out cold. Bubba checks on her quickly but looks to Phoenix, who incidentally has grabbed the bell and chucks it at Bubba. Bubba gets cracked in the face and hits the ground, and this is when Phoenix moves in to capitalize. The Phoenix lifts Bubba J up and leaves him prone before locking in a sleeper hold at ringside. Phoenix wrenches the hold and seemingly scoffs at the immense booing from the crowd.

Linzi Martin: Don’t think these fans paid to see a sleeper hold.

One fan chucks a beer can at The Phoenix’s head which causes Phoenix to go of the hold and stand up to confront him. But The Phoenix isn’t a rookie nor a fool and quickly turns to grab Bubba J by the neck and head and lift him up before DDTing him hard onto the ground and onto that beer can, crushing it on his face and finally busting Bubba open. Bubba with a few quick lefts and rights from the ground is revitalized by the sudden bleeding and forces Phoenix away. Phoenix quickly slides back into the ring. Bubba is right in behind him and lunges at him, clothesline takes Phoenix down. Bubba climbs up to the middle turnbuckle and as The Phoenix gets to his feet, Bubba goes for a double ax handle smash BUT referee Alan Stone gets shoved in the way by the Phoenix! Alan goes down hard, and The Phoenix with a quick dropkick on Bubba as he gets up has him down momentarily.

Linzi Martin: That Rob Rob is a dick.

The Phoenix quickly back up but so is Bubba J.

Larry Gordon: Might be, but here’s to him being a victorious one!

The Phoenix kicks Bubba in the gut and sets him up, THE FLAME!!! Phoenix drags the referee closer to Bubba J and covers Bubba.

Linzi Martin: Alan is still out of it a bit.

Phoenix, while maintaining cover over Bubba J grabs referee Alan Stone’s hand and begins counting.

1!

2!!

3!!!

But no music begins to play, and Alan Stone is only now holding his head and wondering what’s going on. Bubba J is still a bit dazed but The Phoenix is demanding his belts. He quickly realizes no one is going to count that terrible bullshit. Phoenix turns around and is met with a kick to the gut of his own from Bubba J- TRAILER PARK TRASH! Bubba quickly hooks the leg!

1!

2!!

3!!!

Alan Stone made the count of his own volition, and calls for the bell. After a moment, the time keeper finds it, picks it up and

DING DING DING

Bubba J has his hand raised and The Phoenix rolls out of the ring and grabs his titles. The Phoenix looks to the entrance ramp, perhaps waiting some hooded friends to come however security is what comes and they point at him.

Linzi Martin: If I’m hearing this right in my headset, Adrian has demanded The Phoenix being ejected from the building!

Security approaches Phoenix to inform him that he is, in fact, be ejected from the Underground Arena.

Larry Gordon: Apparently Adrian doesn’t want another Thomas Manchester Black incident as seen at the end of PWA’s London’s Burning.

Security waits for the Phoenix to begin walking away, as Bubba J gets a beer in the ring and climbs the middle turnbuckle to salute Phoenix before chugging it. The crowd cheers Bubba and The Phoenix shakes his head, raising both his World Championships high for the crowd to see before disappearing backstage.

Linzi Martin: Bubba coming up with a HUGE victory here over the great Phoenix.

Larry Gordon: And it looks like there will be no sacrifice of Bubba J or anyone else tonight in REBEL Pro.

Linzi Martin: That garbage might fly in the PWA, but not here Larry!

We fade backstage with one last shot of Bubba drinking yet another beer.

Foreplay In The Bowels of the Underground Arena!

The bowels of the UX Arena are alive with the sound of foreplay. That’s what these segments are. An attempt to get the fans arousal for matches that more often than not have been thrown together willy nilly. Old Man Kalis is clearly having fun with his new toys. He stuffs dynamite up their asses to see if they’ll survive. Cruel cold little taskmaster, ain’t he? But whatevs. Here we are back in Nevada in a still newish backdrop for Rebel Pro viewers with a grappling goddess that’s newish to Underground X fans. It all balances out in the end.

“Hellote, Macca!”

Frantic wave by Anna. And no, we have absolutely no clue why she’s dressed up as a penguin. I bet she doesn’t either, to be honest.

“Eye realize that we doan’t know each utter sew yer going to continue being drunk. Dat’s usually fine xcept I just realized that we haven’t really done very well inn introducing ourselves azza hole. Sure, ya know the Cycunt that runs the place and mayhaps hiz kids, Mopey Cunt and Yeast Infected Cunt. They hang around with Highlander Cunt four some reason.”

Le penguin shrug. Fuck knows.

“You’ve alsew rassled a few like artist formally known as Dale Petty Cunt. But sum ov us knned moar of a hello lyke Mavrick Cunt. Thar’s also GoldieCunt and InfernoCunt and Justin Cunt wit his flabby mananger. Ev’ry wonce inna while, we have an English Muffin Cunt and a Masked Cunt. They seemed to have died again doo to my surpemeness. There’s anutter cunt raoming ‘round talking about aliens and sugaries sumtymes. CageyCunt isn’t ours. Yoo can have him.”

Gag. It’s probably the facepaint. Or the fact that he sucks. Or the fact that he’s useless. A production guy tries to sneak by in the background. It doesn’t work as Anna turns around and points.

“Wat’s ur nayme?”

Production dood jumps a good fifteen and a half feet over the sheer enthusiasm of that question. He shuffles his feet and blinks in response.

“Know cereal. What’s your name?”

He tries to scurry away, but the poor bastard stepped into an electric trap.

“AIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!”

O_O

“…Aiiiiieeeeee? What kinda name ish dat?”
The headtilt follows it up. She turns towards us again just as the Puppets gang up like a pack of damn wolves and beat him with piñata sticks. They love the smell of fresh blood. Despite the screaming and beating and other such noises, our Dodo Queen smiles with obvious give no fuckness.

“An then there’s mii! The Kooky Cunt wif the cursed cunt. Pleasure to meet ur aquaitance.”

She shakes the invisible Macca hand. It’s there somewhere much like everything else. Everything else like the Holy Grail, Domino’s Pizza, and the two belts she currently has hiding under a rock somewhere in Mormon county. Centuries from now, a jackoff will uncover these shiny thinsg and proclaim them to be the lost word of God because he’s an illiterate dumbfuck. He’ll say that something about black people being cursed and polygamy being a-OK and that GAWD N JEEBUS are just roosting on a planet with many virgins. All this and they’ll never know that it’s just the Aggression and Tag Team titles waiting for their proper owner to return and make ‘em disappear.

…

But you don’t know that yet. Don’t tell anybody. Shhhhh.

“There’s cake on the table rite over there.”

No lie either. There actually is cake. There’s always cake in a Rebel Pro show. It’s like, ya know…right behind you, dude. How about you get yourself a bite and hope it doesn’t bite back? Pffft. Who am I kidding? It always bites back with addictiveness. This one is special though. It glows like nuclear waste and sprinkles pixie dust all over the place. Mmmmm. Death via glitter.

“Und that’s et really. Ya know, I should make a list ov olive us. Woold mak it easier…”

While Anna plots on how to assimilate these new freaks in with the old freaks, let’s watch something completely different.

Puppet Marty

The feint sounds of the crowd coming to life can be heard as the jumbo screen shows Macca backstage getting prepared for his match. Just as he finishes putting on his wife beater singlet, Macca’s attention is caught by a knock at the door. The Cunster walks over an opens it up before taking a look to his left and then his right before looking down.

Macca:
Marty! You crazy bastard I thought you were dead!

The camera pans down to show us a stuffed duck with a suitcase sitting beside it. The duck does indeed look to be alive (well as a live as a stuffed duck can be) but in very poor shape. He has stitch marks all over his little yellow body and is now rocking an eye patch that would make Simon Kalis proud.

Macca:
Where are my manners mate, come in.

Reaching down to scoop up the stuffed animal and his luggage, Macca shuffles back into the locker room before kicking the door shut behind him. Placing Marty down on a bench the cunt begins to speak to his old friend once more.

Macca:
Man, I seriously thought you had died when El Hijo de Pollo threw you out of the ring. How the hell did you manage to survive that one anyway?

The only reply we get is a blank stare from the glass buttons that are the ducks eyes but you would think he was chatting his little head off with the way Macca is acting. Listening (to what?) intently, Macca gives a nod every now and then sometimes even a laugh or a sound of shock from the little ducks tale.

Macca:
Fucking hell man. To think you could get through all that. You’re a beast Marty! What brings you to REBEL anyway? Thinking of finally following up on that singles career you where talking about or just here for a visit?

Again nothing from the duck.

Macca:
CCW you say? And how is that going?

He isn’t saying anything Macca!

Macca:
CLINT was it? And evil Disney characters?

One possibly two people at most will even get that joke!

Macca:
I don’t mean to be rude Marty but you have caught me at a bad time. I’m actually getting ready for my match tonight.

Marty gets up and puts a reassuring wing over Macca’s shoulder….. lol j/ks he’s a stuffed duck. He doesn’t do shit.

Macca:
Yeah it is against Anna Matthews. How did you know that?

Macca stares at the duck for a moment before turning his attention to the suitcase that Marty arrived with. He walks over towards it before turning to Marty once more.

Macca:
You dug up some stuff on her? You’re a fucking hero Marty. Let’s see what ya got.

Macca flips open the locks of the suitcase before throwing the top open. Inside the suitcase is a single piece of paper. Reaching for it, Macca examines the piece of paper before turning back to the duck.

Macca:
Why would you have a whole suitcase for a single piece of paper?

The duck just stares at the wall because Macca isn’t even in the fucking things line of sight anymore.

Macca:
Oh yeah. That actually makes a lot of sense.

Macca turns his eyes back to the sheet of paper in his hands. Glancing over the piece of paper the Cuntsters eyes suddenly darken.

Macca:
What the fuck type of research is this Marty?

The piece of paper gets thrown to the floor. The camera is able to quickly get a view of what is on the paper before Macca stomps on it. ‘She has nice tits.’ Picking the duck up, Macca gets right up in its grill (or is that bill? Hahaha awesome!).

Macca:
How the hell is that supposed to help me?

Still nothing from the duck in case you were wondering.

Macca:
I was already planning on going for a grope mid match anyway you faggot! How did you even write that note anyway? You don’t even have opposable thumbs. You’re a stuffed duck remember cunt!

And with that Macca hurls the ducks body across the room. Hitting the wall with a soft thud Marty drops down onto the bench along the wall, laying down on his side. A grin of accomplishment makes its way onto Macca’s face as he goes to leave, until he turns back to face the duck once more.

Macca:
Say that again cunt.

Say what again? How has this been going on for so long?

Like a bolt of lightning, Macca launches himself towards Marty but ends up slipping up on the piece of paper that started this fight. stumbling forward and trying to regain his footing, Macca ends up unsuccessful and trips over and lands skull first into the bench before rolling off and landing on the ground. The force of the impact is enough to shake Marty off of the bench and perch him on top of Macca’s head. Laying there for a moment while nursing his head, Macca tries to catch his breath.

Macca:
Ok, so maybe I deserved that. I know Robb used to treat you like that and that was not cool. I am sorry. Still mates?

If this was anybody else a tear would be falling from their eyes right now over how touching Macca is being but no, it’s just a stuffed fucking duck. It does nothing.

Macca:
Ok Marty, let’s do this.

And with that the two exit the room and begin to make their way to the ring.

Non-Title Match

Macca versus Anna Mathews

“Collingwood Football Club” brings the impeccable cuntster, Macca, out with Marty in-hand. Not for long, because Macca, although a huge football fan, opts to throw Marty like an American football player! Holy fuck, big deal, right? Marty flies through the air from atop the entranceway all the way toward the commentator’s table, bouncing off a ring post and then the table itself in the process, but safely landing atop Linzi’s shoulder, to her delight.

Linzi Martin: “MARTY! AHHHH I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

Larry Gordon: “In recent weeks, Macca defeated The Phoenix and Bubba J. Both men are either current or former World Heavyweight Champions. In a few minutes, Macca will fight another former world champion but current aggression champion, Anna Mathews, in our main event of the evening.”

Linzi Martin: “Gawd, Marty, it’s such a pleasure to have you with us.”

Larry Gordon: “And here comes the Champion, now. I can’t tell who these fans adore more! Macca has settled nicely in REBEL, but this is Anna’s territory.”

Linzi Martin: “Thanks for asking, Marty. I’m decent. Things could be better, but can’t complain, you know? Haha, of course you know, my friend. You’ve done it all, haven’t you? Hey, you should tell the story of when you taught Bill Clinton how to keep the economy afloat. Nah, the viewers won’t mind irrelevant subject matter. Commentators go off-topic all the time in pro’ wrestling,”

Larry Gordon: “Not in REBEL. Do your damn job, Linzi.”

Linzi Martin: “No need for that, Marty. I can handle some drinks.”

Referee John Chellios takes the Aggression belt from Anna and then raises it for all to see. Who knows why since this is a non-title match, and Gordon makes sure to acknowledge that. But it’s John, and he’s known to play by his own rules. Fuck you, Robinson! Anyway, Anna and Macca feel each other out by circling, and then when they hook up, Macca slips his hand onto Anna’s thigh, reaching for a grope, but she instantly knees him in the abdomen! Unleashing a ball of violence upon Macca’s cuntish mug, Anna inevitably spinning headscissors Macca across the ring, and when he lifts himself onto one knee, Anna’s savate kick pushes Macca to stagger backward into a nearby corner. A missile dropkick into the same corner soon follows.

Linzi Martin: “If four or more points are vertices of the convex hull, any four such points can be chosen? Marty, that’s brilliant! I never knew you solved the Happy Ending problem. Will you have a crack at the Brumer–Stark conjecture?”

Larry Gordon: “Why are you suddenly not doing your job?”

Linzi Martin: “You’re right, Marty. I’ve not seen. Is it really that good? Must be if AMC decided to bring it back. Honestly, “the Killing” doesn’t sound like a promising premise, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Handspring back elbow is narrowly avoided because Macca ducked, so Anna crash-landed flat on her back. Macca drops the leg and lateral presses, but doesn’t grope a feel on Anna’s boob, despite the clear opportunity. She kicks out before a single count and immediately elbows Macca’s skull! Sticking in there, Macca fights back by punching Anna repeatedly as hard as he could in her midsection, to stand and stomp her stomach as if he’d be aborting a baby. Pulling a weakened Anna to her feet, Macca whips her into the ropes, and when she returns, Macca lifts and slams her with a Samoan drop! NOPE! Midway of sequence, Anna reverses for a crucifix driver! Macca nearly stays pinned for the third count but luckily escapes by a millisecond! Anna kip ups before Macca, giving her ability to dragonrana him for another near-fall. Next, when both stand, Macca swings for a clothesline, but Anna avoids by low diving a shoulder into his midsection. Macca bends forward as result. Meanwhile, Anna tries schoolboying the Cuntster, but he drops onto his knees instead and elbows Anna in the forehead! Lifting Anna onto his shoulders, Macca unloads a torpedo via fireman’s carry dropped into a football kick to the skull!! That makes the three count easy to secure.

Much like last week, “Collingwood Football Club” theme music plays, announcing Macca as winner, but the beer bash in the audience did a better job of declaring. Drink up, Cunt!

All Falls Down

A camera crew quietly slips into the office of Simon Kalis, commandeered for the evening by young Adrian Kalis. Simon sits across Adrian, pleading his case.

Simon Kalis: Now is not the time for petty inner squabbles. You paying attention to what’s happening, Adrian?

Adrian Kalis: Yeah. Are you?

Simon Kalis: You can’t hold me over a different standard than Rob Robinson. It’s time to call the ba-

Adrian Kalis: Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan for The Phoenix to remind him of his place when it comes down to it. And we both know it will come down to it.

The camera pans around in the room, and on the left of the desk Adrian and Simon sit at, Benjamin Dyce is leaning back in a plush leather couch with Maya on his lap and the PWA Grizzly Beer title on his shoulder. He nods in agreement.

Benjamin Dyce: Ay. We cunt bunted his Hall of Fame ass once, we’ll do it up again should that need arise.

Simon Kalis: And his two goons? Do you have any idea who they are?

Adrian Kalis: Relax, old man. You need to lighten up. Have a drink, we’ve got an unlimited supply of Grizzly Beer thanks to Benji.

Benjamin Dyce: Ay, it’s happy hour every hour tonight lads.

Dyce raises a can in cheers and then takes a chug.

Simon Kalis: War is coming, Adrian.

Adrian Kalis: War is always coming with you, old man. Besides…

Adrian opens the right side desk drawer and pulls out a business card and slides it over to Simon.

Adrian Kalis: I believe we can make allies.

Simon picks up the card and then looks back up at Adrian.

Adrian Kalis: Let The Phoenix bring on his sacrifice brigade, I say. Conflict makes strange bedfellows.

Simon Kalis: This is the number for Paul Alba…

Adrian nods as we fade to the REBEL Pro logo and out…

QUICK RESULTS

Allen Chaney defeats Jeremy Gold & Bobby Lee
Fine Wine defeat The Uproars and win $100,000 cash!
Jake Norton defeats Justin Case in the Den of Damnation
Sean Robinson defeats Jonathan Cage and thus Cage is fired from REBEL Pro
Bubba J defeats The Phoenix
Macca defeats Anna Mathews