(We fade into the scene outside Arena Mexico – our video is timestamped with an “EARLIER TODAY” type at the bottom left of the screen. We hear the rumblings of a motorcycle in the distance, and we don’t have to wait long before the bike pulls into view. The driver hops off, dropping the kickstand and reaching up to remove his helmet, revealing…
Inside Arena Mexico, the crowd erupts in a series of boos as Draven shrugs himself out of a black leather jacket, tucking it under his forearm as he starts toward the entrance.
But out of nowhere, we hear a primal roar, and none other than LUNATIKK CRIPPLER races into view, dropping Draven from behind with a double axhandle to the shoulderblades. Crippler begins stomping away on Draven, grabbing his motorcycle helmet and flinging it across the parking lot.)
Lunatikk Crippler: You like whipping people, Michael? You like that? Time to give you some of your own medicine!
(And Crippler rapidly begins undoing his own belt from his waist, clearly out for retribution for his fellow HATE member. But before Crippler can remove the belt, ALEXANDER HAVEN sprints into view as well, dropping Crippler with a hard left. Draven gets to his feet, and the two men begin stomping away on Crippler to a chorus of boos from the crowd viewing this on the jumbotron inside. But a moment later, yet another body comes flying into view, grabbing Draven by the shirt collar and flinging him aside. TYLER MORRIS drops into a fighting stance as Martin Robertson runs onto the scene, but Haven puts a hand up, telling him to hold back. Haven stares Morris down, then chuckles and backs away, smirking at the former Youth member.)
Alexander Haven: Come on, fellas, we’re done here. Let the losers play together.
(Draven laughs, and the Three Kings slowly back away as Morris’s eyes dart between them and Crippler, on the ground, struggling to get up. After a moment, Morris, sensing the danger has passed, leans down, helping Crippler to his feet…
…only to be met with a hard shove from Crippler, sending Morris sprawling backwards onto his ass. Crippler picks himself up, yelling down at Morris.)
Lunatikk Crippler: I had it under control until you showed up, asshole. I didn’t need your help.
Tyler Morris: Yeah, you totally destroyed their fists with your face. What the hell’s your problem?
(Crippler doesn’t answer, instead storming off, leaving Morris to pull himself to his feet, confused as we fade to ringside for Battlelines 27!)
Mike Malone: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Battlelines 27, as you look up live at the ominous structure that will descend upon us later tonight…the Asylum de los Muertos! We’re live from Mexico City! I’m Mike Malone, alongside my broadcast colleague, Vincent Ashe, and what a huge night we have in store for you tonight, as six men enter the Asylum, with only one walking out with the EWA World Heavyweight Championship!
Vincent Ashe: Malone, I’m so excited for this one! Tonight, bodies will be broken, careers will be cut short, and most importantly of all, to the victor goes the spoils. It’s gonna be great.
MM: Folks, before we hit the ring for our opening match, earlier tonight, before anyone else came into the arena, Terry Bull caught up with our World Heavyweight Champion ahead of tonight’s main event for a brief sit down interview. Let’s take a look.
(The camera focuses in on a wide-ranging perspective of the arena, Asylum de los Muertos hanging from the ceiling. The stalls are completely empty, save for two men. Intrepid EWA interviewer, Terry Bull, and the new EWA World Heavyweight Champion, ‘Red Hot’ Ray Willmott. Ray is dressed down in a Flame Dynasty T Shirt and Jeans. Terry, meanwhile, has a full suit on, microphone in hand. Terry is sat one row ahead of Ray and is turned around to face him. Ray is leaning back against his hard chair, legs up on the one in front of him, the World Heavyweight Championship in his lap.
Tonight is going to be a huge test for the champion as he enters the Asylum for the second time in his career.)
Terry Bull: Thanks again for doing this. Really appreciate it.
Ray Willmott: No problem, you know I’ve got mad love for you, Terry.
(They both laugh for a moment before continuing.)
Terry Bull: Feels fitting I do this. It was me who got your first interview when you came back – seemingly – from the dead and now I’m here, talking to you before the most dangerous and important match of your career. I’ve got to ask, how are you doing?
Ray Willmott: Honestly? I’m feeling more chilled than I thought I would. Not that I’m overconfident or I’m understating the sentiment of the contest. But unlike everyone else, I do know what I’m getting into here. I genuinely look up at that big-ass structure and see another home.
Terry Bull: Some home …
Ray Willmott: (he laughs) Look, I know that I made mistakes the last time I was in there. I let Lunatikk Crippler get into my head. I overprepared. My diet was all wrong. I could sit here and bore you with the details, but I’m not going to do that. Instead, I’m going to tell you that I learned a lot from those mistakes. They made me a better wrestler and as a result, I am coming into this thing tonight with a better gameplan and mindset. Plus, let’s face it, I’ve got a lot more to fight for now.
(He looks down at his title with a satisfied smile.)
Ray Willmott: See, in matches like this, people DO have the benefit of experience. I already know what it’s like to be inside the Asylum. I know how much it hurts. I know what it’s like to fail. I’ve had the trials and tribulations that come along with participating in this steel hell. Those things kind of had to happen, so that when I go in there again tonight, I’m already one step ahead of my competition because I’ve already endured the shortcomings.
And I can tell you this point blank, Terry. I’m not going to be first out of the door tonight. I’m not going to be second. Or third. Tonight, I will be the last man standing. I’m going to beat the odds, go against everyone’s best predictions and walk out of Mexico City STILL EWA World Heavyweight Champion.
Terry Bull: Who do you see as your biggest threat in there tonight?
Ray Willmott: Man, everyone. Genuinely. I wasn’t kidding the other day when I said this is a dream match. Any one of those guys can walk out of here a champion. They’ve done it before. They’ll almost certainly do it again. At some point. (he smirks)
I guess you could say Haven is a danger because he runs this company and no one really knows what kind of role he’s going to play. But then you have the former champ, Indrid Calder, who I never technically pinned to win this. So he’s gonna come gunning for me. And, of course, his stable buddy NOTHING is going to be right there with him.
And how the fuck can you ever discount a Grady Smith or a Sean Boden? Seriously, Terry, this is not a cop out. Every one of these guys is a threat to my title reign. Every guy thinks they know what’s best for the EWA and they’re determined to prove it. For the neutral, fuck me, this is going to be something extraordinary because there’s so much unpredictability and uncertainty. Everyone is going to fight. HARD.
Terry Bull: No doubt. Some are calling this – yourself included – the biggest main event in EWA history.
Ray Willmott: It’s a lot to live up to, but the calibre of competition I have in there – no doubt – is going to bring out the best in me. It’ll bring out the best in all of them. The fact it all takes place in an Asylum and it’s for this World Championship? I wish I was sitting here watching the match live, man …
(They both laugh raucously.)
Terry Bull: You get to do one better and live it.
Ray Willmott: Yeah, tell me that when I’m walking out there, head to toe, in cuts and bruises.
Terry Bull: I’d better let you go as you need to get ready. But I’ve got to ask, do you feel wronged in any way that you’ve been forced to defend your title at every show since winning, having to compete in some of the most gruelling matches when others have won titles and sat on the sidelines for weeks on end?
Ray Willmott: Nah, man. I’m not bitter about it. I mean, would I rather this was main eventing London having just defended against Elizabeth Gaunt? Not to mention I’d love to have this HUGE match in my homeland, with me coming in as champion, yes it would be nice. BUT I’m ok with rolling with the punches.
Like, it would be so hypocritical of me to win this title, having yelped on for months about how people are not doing right by the distinction, for me to then just stick it on a mantle somewhere and wait out my mandatory 30 day defense period. I’ve never been that kind of champion. I like to give opportunities to people that deserve them. I like to bring out the competitive edge everywhere I go. And sure, that probably means I’ll have a shorter reign than most. But what it also means is that when people look back at my time as champion, they’ll remember the epic matches and the big moments.
And you know what, IF I somehow walk out of here tonight EWA World Champion, don’t be surprised to see me defend this again before London. That’s what the EWA is all about now. That’s what this community should be coming to expect.
Terry Bull: Well….you’re the man, Ray. Huge congratulations on winning the World Title and best of luck tonight. I can’t wait to see what happens.
Ray Willmott: You and me both.
Terry Bull: Oh, and….don’t forget we’ve still got unfinished business.
Ray Willmott: Huh?
Terry Bull: You owe me that follow-up interview. About your time away from the ring. We never fully finished that story.
Ray Willmott: Right…..
Terry Bull: You did promise.
(Ray slaps Terry on the shoulder, gripping his title with the other hand.)
Ray Willmott: I did. And I will. Soon.
Ray Willmott: Just…one thing at a time, right?
(Terry shakes hands with Ray and the camera cuts away from the scene, fading back to the arena for our opening match.)
Josh Kaine vs Azrael Goeren
Aaah! Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!
The raspy and electric voice of Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley and those distinctive guitar riffs suddenly starts over the speakers of the arena, igniting a pop from the crowd. The heir to Valhalla himself appears from backstage, a grin on his face as he jogs to the ramp with his arms extended, basking in the attention from the people in the audience. They know all too well who he is and the name he has to live up to and a lot is riding on his second-ever match.
Nikki Rogers: Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Lenoir, North Carolina weighing in at 190 pounds, the Heir of Valhalla…JOSH…KAINE!!
I believe them bones are me
Some say we’re born into the grave
I feel so alone, gonna end up a
Big ole pile of them bones
Giving nods and slapping a few fans’ hands on the way down, Josh climbs up onto the ring apron and smiles widely before climbing through the ropes. The son of Sinnocence retreats to his corner, hands on the ropes to eagerly await his opponent’s arrival.
MM: Josh looking confident and ready for his second ever match here in the EWA!
VA: Yeah well, you would be too if you had Sinn as your trainer. God only knows what Sahara bribed her with!
The arena lights dim as the opening chords of “Sieben” by Subway to Sally blare over the arena’s loudspeakers. The fans jump to their feet amidst a chorus of cheers as the video screens crackles to life with a revolving pair of gold letters: A.G.
VA: I can’t wait to see Goeren get his face smashed in by a rookie.
MM: Do you really have to be so hateful?
VA: I’m not hateful, Malone. I’m GRACE-ful, full of our God Queen’s shining love and light!
A massive red and gold pyro explosion goes off at the top of the ramp and rattles the arena as the curtain is pulled back and Azrael Goeren calmly makes his way out to greet the EWA faithful. Goeren is dressed in a pair of disturbingly tight black leather pants along with a mesh top and bright red ring boots. He flashes his trademark smirk and blows kisses to each side of the arena before slowly making his way down the ramp, clearly in no hurry to get to the ring as he soaks in the adulation.
Nikki Rogers: And his opponent, from Eberswalde, Germany and weighing in at 215 pounds, he is the Sultan of Sleaze, AZRAEL…GOOOOEREN!
As he approaches the ring, red and gold glitter begins to fall from the rafters as Azrael basks in his overproduced entrance. He finally makes it to ringside but stops and slaps hands with a few fans nearby. He slides underneath the bottom rope and climbs to the second turnbuckle, glaring out at the cheering audience with another slight smirk before jumping down and reclining up against the ring ropes. He tests their elasticity for a moment before going to the center of the ring, with Josh going to meet him there.
MM: This is set to be one of the most exciting matches of the night…how will Jada Kaine’s training hold up against the best of the worst this industry has ever seen?
VA: Yawn. Best of the worst? More like Worst of the Wurst. See what I did there? It’s a sausage joke, Malone.
The son of his beloved Jada Kaine reaches out a hand, grinning as Azrael grasps and shakes his hand firmly. There are no hard feelings in this match…and as Kayuza rings for the bell, the match is underway.
Kaine and Goeren begin circling each other as the crowd cheers before Josh holds up one hand signaling a test of strength. The German smirks, and the two men lock fists before Josh begins pushing Azrael down, forcing his back to arch, and then Goeren pulls himself back, and pushes Josh back. However, Goeren pulls the rookie wrestler back to a standing position and quickly hooks his head under the arm of the Heir of Valhalla, and hits a Northern Lights suplex, flipping him onto his back, and Goeren bridges into a quick pin! Ito drops for the count!
Kaine kicks out! The younger man quickly rolls away, jumping back to his feet to continue circling with Goeren…obviously annoyed with himself to get caught that early. Azrael moves forward, going for a clean strike before Josh quickly jumps out of the way.
MM: It’s clear from the get go that the Heir to Valhalla means business!
VA: Yeah, well, he’s gonna have to do something impressive to stay in the EWA.
They circle for a moment again, inching in closer before locking up in a collar and elbow tie up. Goeren again gets the advantage by slapping on a side headlock. Josh responds by backing up and then shooting Azrael into the ropes! Kaine leap frogs over his opponent as he rebounds back in and then when Azrael returns on the second pass, Josh Kaine executes a nice hip toss! Azrael takes a moment to get back to his feet, keeping a careful eye on the younger man.
MM: How’s that for impressive?
VA: Yawn, I say. This is too clean! Where’s the Azzy we all hate and boo?!
MM: You realize Jada might kill him if he ends up hurting Joshua too badly.
VA: THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I’M HOPING FOR!
Goeren feints another tie up but at the last moment spins and ends up behind Josh, putting his arms around him and pulling off a textbook waist lock take down. He quickly repositions himself and gets in a rear chin lock. Referee Ito checks for a submission but Josh shakes his head no. Josh Kaine manages to kick out with a foot and catch it up in the bottom rope. Ito calls for the break, which Azrael gives him immediately. The German whips Josh into the ropes and drops to the mat as the rookie comes back in. Josh Kaine collides with Azrael as he gets back to his feet with a shoulder block. This sends Goeren back down to the mat hard!
MM: Surprising show of skill here from our legacy rookie! Jada has taught him well!
VA: GODDAMN IT JUST HURT HIM WORSE ALREADY!
The rookie moves quickly and picks Azzy up off the mat and lifts him up into a vertical suplex, and holds the vertical position for a moment before falling back to the mat. Kaine tests the German by going for the pin, but Goeren kicks out comfortably at two.
A sudden rush of noise and energy from the audience draws Josh’s attention.
MM: What the hell is Sahara doing here?
The platinum blonde beauty leaps over the guardrail, intent on heading to the ring before the heir to Valhalla realizes what is going on. He pats on Goeren’s shoulder to get his attention, silently asking him for a moment before jumping to his feet. Josh rushes to the ropes, just as Sahara gets ready to jump in the ring. He shouts out to her, the camera catching it, “NO! YOU GO BACK! I CAN DO THIS ON MY OWN!”
Sahara’s returning argument is nearly unintelligible, but Josh just repeats himself…bringing an angered look from the blonde before she does as he asks and heads to the back again.
VA: What’s wrong with letting her help?! He could easily smash Goeren’s face in then!
MM: Maybe because he doesn’t want to be a repeat of her brother, Mojave? The two competitors are back at it now that the distraction is gone!
Josh and Azrael tie up again, and the rookie manages to pull off an arm drag takedown. Goeren gets back to his feet quickly only to met with a clothesline to put him back down on the mat.
MM: The Sultan of Sleaze is going to have to watch himself a little closer, Josh is on fire!
VA: Yeah, but can he keep it up? God knows Goeren doesn’t have any problems with that. That’s it! I would curse him with impotency!
The Heir of Valhalla answers Ashe’s question by scoop slamming Azrael. Kaine goes to the nearest corner and steps up to the second turnbuckle. He jumps off and hits a swandive headbutt, contacting squarely with the Sultan of Sleaze’s shoulder and neck. Josh makes another cover but is denied his reward when Goeren kicks out again at two. The rookie covers again and hooks both legs this time. Azrael still manages to elude the pin. Josh starts to look more than a little frustrated, but stays on top of the situation by executing a solid back breaker.
MM: A beautiful back breaker right there, but Goeren is just not staying down!
VA: Azzy better start laying off the kid. I doubt Sinn’s couch is as comfy as her bed is.
Kaine goes for another vertical suplex but Goeren hooks his leg into the rookie’s, blocking the move. Another try from Josh ends in another block. A third try and Azrael goes up, only to free himself and slide down the Heir’s back and rolls him up with a sunset flip. The referee drops for the count but Josh Kaine escapes at two!
MM: Josh gets the shoulder up! And what do you care, Vince? You’ll never get close enough to even smell her mailbox, let alone her furniture.
VA: One day, Malone. One day she’ll see me for who I really am!
Both men make it back to their feet and Josh temporarily stuns Azzy with a knee to the midsection. He hooks the German’s head in what looks like will be a DDT but at the last second Goeren pulls off a beautiful Northern Lights Suplex.
MM: Goeren with the pin!
VA: Goddamn it, get up, Josh! Don’t let that bastard pin you! Cave his face in! Do it for Grace!
The Sultan of Sleaze holds onto the bridge to make a pinning attempt. Kazuya Ito counts to two but Kaine slaps at Goeren’s stomach with both hands breaking the bridge and the count. Azrael makes it to his feet first and sprints towards the ropes, Josh is up now and waiting for Goeren, but the clever veteran baseball slides between Kaine’s legs and quickly goes for a school boy roll up. The referee slaps the mat twice before the rookie kicks out. The Rookie gets back to his feet only to be flipped over in a beautiful fireman’s carry!
VA: This isn’t even remotely entertaining.
MM: The son of Sinn is being taken to school here by Goeren, and now he’s got him trapped!
VA: Woohoo, why won’t he just–
Azrael takes Josh down again with a quick double leg take down and wraps the rookie up in an STF, relying more on the strength of his wrists to apply the pressure needed to make Josh submit!
MM: He’s got that STF good and locked in! It doesn’t look like there’s any escaping it!
The Heir to Valhalla writhes around in the STF as Ito drops to ask him if he submits. Josh doesn’t give in to the pain, but can’t seem to counter the maneuver. Kaine starts to inch his way over towards the ropes, trying to muster enough strength.
MM: Reaching hard for the ropes now, he’s got to break that hold!
VA: Come on, kid! Reach!
The Heir makes it closer to the ropes and stretches out to grab them, his fingertips barely grazing the ropes. Goeren pulls back harder wrenching back on the hold pulling the young Kaine another few inches from the ropes. Ito is still asking for the submission but the son of Sinnocence refuses, stretching out for the ropes, straining with every muscle in his body.
MM: Goeren is relentless with the kid! The more Josh pushes forward, the harder Goeren pulls him back!
VA: He’s gotta make it!
MM: Will he make it?!
Joshua makes one last ditch effort to reach the ropes and fails as Goeren is able to keep the leverage in his favor. After what feels like an eternity of having his body punished in the expertly-applied maneuver, the Heir to Valhalla is forced to submit and referee Kazuya Ito calls for the bell. The crowd goes wild as Azrael Goeren is back in a victorious way!
MM: And the heir to Valhalla has tapped out!
NR: Here is your winner by submission, Azrael Goeren!
VA: For fuck’s sake.
The Sultan of Sleaze uncharacteristically releases his hold on the younger man as soon as the bell rings, before extending a hand up to help Josh back to his feet. He takes it gratefully, rubbing at his neck with a sore smile as the crowd continues to cheer for the both of them!
YOUR WINNER BY SUBMISSION: AZRAEL GOEREN (9:03)
(We head backstage, finding ourselves with a view of a smiling Allison Haines. A couple shadows can be seen on either side of her, but who stands with her is unknown as of yet.)
Allison Haines: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, it is my pleasure to be joined by not one, but two EWA World Champions! To my right is a two-time former champion, certainly on the hunt for a third in the future—Laura Seton…
(The camera pans back to show Laura, blonde hair down, in her usual red leather jacket with blue jeans. She smiles as the crowd gives a cheer.)
Allison Haines: … and to my left, gracious enough to lend a few minutes prior to his huge defense in The Asylum—our current World Champion—Ray Willmott!
(The crowd has a thunderous ovation as the camera pans further back to reveal the champ as well.)
Allison Haines: Thank you for me joining me, both of you. Ray, you especially as, again, you’re not too far from defending the World Championship.
Ray Willmott: My pleasure, Allison.
(Ray smiles and adjusts the EWA World Heavyweight Championship on his shoulder with a satisfied shuffle. Allison nods, then continues her line of questioning.)
Allison Haines: Now Laura, this is an extremely rare evening off for you. How have you been handling that?
Laura Seton: Honestly, it’s been frustrating. Not everyone fights every show but a huge show like this, but you’d love to be against almost anyone on such a special show.
Allison Haines: Just from your tone of voice there, I can feel that. How competitive you are, I’m sure you’ve lost a little sleep over it.
Laura Seton: Uh… well, not literally, I’ve lost more than enough for other reasons—
(She eyes Ray up and down, but her eyes seem to fixate on his shoulder for a few seconds and the World Heavyweight Championship hanging from it.)
Laura Seton: … but sure, figuratively, I’ve lost a ton.
Ray Willmott: …Naturally, what Laura means is we’ve been training every hour of every day and absolutely haven’t – in any way shape or form – been celebrating our engagement or my title victory, or even once considered anything outside of wrestling while in each other’s company.
(Ray slyly winks at his partner who feeds him a beaming smile in return. Allison Haines, however, is about to get right to the heart of the situation.)
Allison Haines: Sure, I understand that, but the World Championship has been in your home for well over a month now and one can’t help but think—
Laura Seton: I’m going to politely cut you off there, Ally. It IS odd living with the World Champion when you’re still an active competitor and have everything look you in the face, but you know what? I can handle it. I want it back that third time, absolutely, but as much as everyone wants to speculate obsession or ruining my life with Ray—no. I love him too much.
Allison Haines: All right… over to you, Ray. You’ve gone through so much even since you first came back on the wrestling scene, much less your entire career. You’re at the very peak of the EWA and, likely, the wrestling world. How does this rank with all your career accomplishments?
Ray Willmott: Honestly, it’s a dream come true Allison. And this has probably been the quickest month of my life. *he laughs*
It’s no secret I’ve done a lot in my career. I’ve won over one hundred career championships, fifteen of those now World titles. But this one feels the most special of all because of the work I put in and the setbacks I had to endure. And, you know, even though I’ve already defended this title once and am about to go into The Asylum, I’m happy because I’m doing what I love and also raising the profile of this prestigious …
(As Ray speaks, Laura grins, but her eyes again—more blatantly, fixate on his shoulder and it becomes obvious her gaze is the World Championship. Ray becomes distracted by the entranced look in his partners eyes and abruptly changes the topic of conversation.)
Ray Willmott: …Really, this again? Right now? Fuck’s sake, Laura….
Laura Seton: What “again?” I can’t look at my fiancee anymore?
(She acts completely clueless as to what he could possibly be inferring.)
Ray Willmott: …Don’t play dumb. Not with me.
Laura Seton: … I… don’t… know…?
(She gives a shake of her head, still appearing confused.)
Ray Willmott: …Screw this. It’s far from the ideal time, but this needs to be thrashed out.
Allison Haines: Maybe I should go…
(Willmott halts her and gently ushers the microphone back up to his mouth.)
Ray Willmott: Stay right where you are, Allison.
Laura Seton: Why does she stay? No offense here, Ally, but whatever this is? It’s Ray and my’s business. You shouldn’t be given the right to stick around, much less actually do that.
Ray Willmott: You think I haven’t noticed what you’re up to? Sneaking off at night when you think I’m asleep? Going out of the room for private phone calls? Arranging meetups backstage when I’m in the ring or at physio? You think I don’t watch EWA programming and see you talking to Jada and Dube …
Laura Seton: WHAT!??
(The reaction does seem like a legit surprise.)
Laura Seton: How could you possibly know about all that!? You’re out cold when I sneak off… … aren’t you? And okay, I give you the conversation with Jada–that was broadcast for the world to see. But what are you doing listening to me and Dube? I thought you were out then…? That Championship is NOT more important to me–I guarantee you that!
(She gets a somewhat worried look, knowing she just told everything, proving anything Ray may have been unsure about but had felt was true.)
Ray Willmott: … Enough, Laura! Enough with the lies.
You know, you’re the one who proposed to me. You’re the one who got down on one knee at Champions Summit and asked me to be your husband. You, not me.
And it’s funny, before I pinned Azrael Goeren in the middle of that ring — 1,2,3 — I’d never seen you smile so much. You walked with a new kind of swagger. You became more open with people. You held me tighter than you used to. Hell, you acted like you needed to be around me. And, sure, we’ve always been good together, but since that proposal, something changed.
(Ray drops the title to his side – still holding the strap tightly in his right hand – and looks her straight in the eyes.)
Ray Willmott: You changed.
Laura Seton: No, I have not! I love you more and more every passing day. I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to let you into my life full-time. You are honestly the one person I have sincerely loved THIS MUCH my whole life. You–well, I’m not getting into that–look…
(She takes a hand in hers and smiles at him, looking at him with a tenderness in her eyes.)
Laura Seton: I’m not letting myself lose you. You mean too much to me.
(Ray gently pulls his hand away, much to Laura’s shock and surprise. While mostly appearing upset, Allison Haines can’t help but give a little smile to herself in the background, seemingly bagging the scoop of the century!)
Ray Willmott: Here’s the thing, Laura, when I see those eyes move from my own and across to the piece of gold on my shoulder or around my waist, I see something else inside you. Not the competitor I fell in love with or the person who wants to earn this in the ring…but a rival…
A more dangerous and threatening rival to my reign than a 3K or a Fallout. Hell, ANYONE in that Asylum tonight! Because it comes from the sides. From behind.
(He thumps his chest.)
Ray Willmott: Within.
Laura Seton: I appreciate the show of respect, but you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not going to do something stupid. We’re too strong, Ray. Our bond is too strong. If you think I’m all about that Championship and NOTHING else? You’re wrong.
Ray Willmott: I want to believe you, Laura…with all my heart….
(Laura involuntarily seems to look at the title. It’s a quick glance but it tells a story of its own.)
Ray Willmott: But that look RIGHT THERE is why I can’t!
Laura Seton: What are you talking about??
Ray Willmott: The look of lust and desire that’s willing to burn bridges and break hearts!
I know what I was getting into with you. At least, I thought I did. I KNOW how badly it hurt when you only had a moment holding this title. And I saw all the hate that came along with it … ‘Laura the paper champ’ … ‘Twenty Seconds of Terror’ … ‘Ray’s already held it longer than her’ … You barely got a chance to show the EWA what you could do before the privileges were stripped away from you. That fucking sucks, I know, and you deserve so much better!
But rather than fight back against the adversity like I did, you locked yourself away and let it beat you. Hell, you actually went against the advice you gave me when I was ready to pack it in a few months back!
(Laura seems confused. Ray takes the opportunity to raise the title up to both of their eyelines.)
Ray Willmott: Here, let me bring it closer so you can get a good look. So we don’t have to pretend like you’re not looking at this the entire time instead of me…
I KNOW you’ve got unfinished business with this title. I get it, I do. And I promise, as long as it is in my possession, I’m going to fight for you to get your chance to prove the EWA made mistakes with you. Big ones!
But until then, it is time for you to face up to a harsh, cruel reality, Laura. There’s a reason you’re not on the card tonight or in the Asylum. There’s a reason you’re not booked for London or why you’ve lost in the shuffle when it comes to making plans…
(Ray drops the title to his side and gets in closer to his tag team and life partner.)
Ray Willmott: You’re not a contender and you’re not ready.
(She gets to nose to nose with him. The love is still there, but anger at the situation is beginning to settle in. She speaks at a notch above a whisper–quiet but still audible.)
Laura Seton: If you don’t want to believe me about the eternal strength of our bond that I feel we have? That’s up to you. … … But we’re discussing the EWA World Championship–this sport’s biggest prize and if there’s really a tiny chance that bond breaks because of it, I will take my FUCKING chances!
(Allison and Ray are taken aback. Laura Seton does not swear. Ever. She’s made that a staple of her career. For a moment, it stuns everyone to complete silence. Even Laura herself seems surprised by what’s just come out of her mouth.)
Ray Willmott: There she is … the real Laura Seton….
Laura Seton: You don’t seem to want to get it through your head that I’m about us, not me. But you’re touching a nerve with me, all that “Laura the paper champ” et cetera. It’s like you WANT me to be only about me. I want you forever in my life. Yes, I want that World Championship back more than anyone else in this company. Do you really want me pushed away from you? I love you, Ray Willmott. But if you’re really unsure, say something. Because I honestly don’t know.
(Her tone returns to the audible whisper. She doesn’t seem to want to say her thought, but in her momentary anger, it comes out.)
Laura Seton: So fuck you…
(The second time isn’t as surprising as the first, but it still has an effect on Willmott. His expression looks pained and troubled, but he tries to compose himself and move the conversation forward.)
Ray Willmott: This … this is what I’ve been worried about. Us talking for months about how much we’re going to change the EWA, how much we want to be champion and how much we’d support one another if either of us got the chance.
Well, at least now we know who actually meant it…
(Ray scratches his chin.)
Ray Willmott: You think this comes easy? I just came off one title defense. I had to actually EARN my way into tonight’s match even though I was already champion. Tonight, I’ve got five more people to worry about as well as a structure as intimidating as The Asylum. And following that, whoever is champion will be called upon to represent the EWA diligently when it crosses the pond for the first time. Hell, they’ll almost certainly be defending the title in London. In my home country. No pressure….
(Willmott nervously smiles at the prospect.)
Ray Willmott: So what I CAN’T have right now is you – of all people – giving me sideways glances, going behind my back, playing this twisted game in your head. Because – and here’s the crux of it – I NEED YOU more than ever…
(Tears seem to start forming in Willmott’s eyes.)
Ray Willmott: I need to know that when I’m in that Asylum tonight, getting my skull smashed against steel and have blood pouring out of my face, when my body is covered in welts and bruises, you’re somewhere nearby, willing me on.
I have to know that when I’m flat out on the ring canvas, in so much pain I’m not sure I have the strength to stand, that you’re screaming at a monitor backstage, inspiring me to keep going
(Ray lifts the title back onto his shoulder, tapping it gently.)
Ray Willmott: … was a team effort, Laura. I COULD NOT have won this if it weren’t for you. I’m not shying away or disputing for a second that you’ve been the positive x-factor on my life which pushed me over the line. But that also means you’ve got a crucial role to play in making sure it stays there. Not through interfering in my matches or screwing other people’s chances…. But by believing in me. Standing by me! Through all walks of life …
Laura Seton: That… is something I hoped was the case. And as long as we’re on the same page, that’s why I don’t think we can be shattered. Our relationship–that’s what gives that extra something, whether that “something” gets us over the top or steps on the gas to become a new figure of domination. I just want us thinking together, not having a war like this!
Ray Willmott: I can’t do this. Not right now…
(Ray angrily runs a hand through his hair. Allison Haines looks increasingly uncomfortable standing between them.)
Ray Willmott: But this conversation isn’t over and you need to do some serious thinking.
Ask yourself, what’s more important to you….Us? Or this?
(He slaps his hand against the World Heavyweight Title on his shoulder.)
Ray Willmott: Because, right now, it feels like you want me to fail….
Laura Seton: NO!! That’s the last thing I want!
Ray Willmott: I guess we’ll know for sure once The Asylum is done and dusted…
(He looks at his World Championship and then at Laura.)
Ray Willmott: But I’ll tell you this. If, by some miracle, I retain tonight…
(He sighs deeply.)
Ray Willmott: …when it comes to this championship, until the time is right, I need you to …
BACK … THE FUCK … OFF!
(Willmott storms out of shot leaving Laura and Allison Haines alone again.
Fade to ringside.)
'Perfection' Martin Robertson vs Tyler Morris
MM: Up next, Vince, we’ve got a grudge match between two of the hot young superstars in the EWA.
VA: I hate to correct you, Malone… wait, no I don’t. There’s only one superstar in this match, and that’s “Perfection” Martin Robertson, one of the Three Kings of Wrestling!
MM: Well, despite your opinion…
VA: Not opinion… fact. Has Morris held the EWA Network Title for 188 days? Was he invited to be one of the Three Kings? No, because that’d make four Kings, and you can’t have four kings. He’s a pauper, and he should kneel at the throne for mercy in this match!
MM: I think Tyler Morris showed last Battlelines that he’s not kneeling to anyone, taking out Martin Robertson with a vicious PTSD outside the ring.
VA: The executioner has been notified, Malone. OFF WITH MORRIS’ HEAD!
MM: Good lord… let’s head up to the ring, and Nikki Rogers!
NR: Ladies and gentlemen, this next ma…
???: Hold up there, peasant!
MM: What in the…???
(Out from behind the curtain, holding a microphone, is none other than the Queen Bitch of Professional Wrestling, Alyssa Marie Haven! Dressed in a well-fitting sequin black dress that doesn’t leave much to the imagination, she steps out to the center of the entrance ramp, looking towards the ring and Nikki Rogers in disgust.)
Alyssa Marie Haven: The phrase “ladies and gentlemen” is reserved for those privileged enough to have a seat at the table with the Three Kings of Wrestling!
(The crowd, while enamoured with the attractiveness of Alyssa, have begun to reign down boo’s towards the Queen Bitch, who just smiles back at them all…)
Alyssa Marie Haven: You should refer to these people here in Mexico City exactly as they are… pagans and peasants!
(Nikki looks out towards Alyssa with a ‘Really?” look…)
NR: Ladies and gen…
Alyssa Marie Haven: DO WHAT I SAID!
(Nikki takes a deep breath…)
NR: Pagans and peasants, introducing first, he hails from New Rochelle, New York, USA. He is one of the Three Kings…
Alyssa Marie Haven: I can’t believe this…
(Alyssa starts to storm towards the ring, furious with Nikki for some reason. Alyssa climbs into the ring, snatching the microphone away from Nikki…)
Alyssa Marie Haven: You can introduce that neanderthal Morris when I’m done, but for a king, you obviously can’t handle a proper introduction.
(Nikki rolls her eyes as Alyssa turns towards the hard side camera, facing out towards the crowd…)
Alyssa Marie Haven: Introducing first, he is the longest reigning EWA Network Champion in history and holds numerous records, including the longest title reign in EWA history! So now, pagans and peasants, bow for the youngest King in wrestling history, and the man that will dismantle Tyler Morris for good and send him packing back to reclusion with his buddy Chris Kage, I humbly give to you… “PERFECTION”…. MARTIN…. ROBERTSON!
The opening guitar riff and drum solo to Avenged Sevenfold’s “Hail to the King” begins to play as the strobe lights flash all throughout the arena, giving the building that rock concert feel to it. As the beat picks up and continues, the strobes slowly shift their focus towards the entrance ramp and, once they are all centered on a single spot on the ramp…
HAIL TO THE KING
HAIL TO THE ONE
KNEEL TO THE CROWN
STAND IN THE SUN
HAIL TO THE KING!
Stepping through the curtain is indeed Martin Robertson. However, instead of his typical black jacket with “Perfection” on the back in script, the jacket has been replaced by a royal purple robe, with the same inscription on the back. He steps towards the center of the entrance ramp before lowering his head and extending his arms out, the robe opening up to show Martin wearing a black “Three Kings” t-shirt along with his wrestling trunks. The crowd continues to boo as he simply smiles when he looks up before strutting down to the ring…
MM: Can you believe the guile of these two?
VA: Can you believe the audacity of these people in Mexico City to boo royalty?
MM: If anything, he certainly knows how to make an entrance…
VA: Such a regal entrance, might I add.
Robertson steps up the stairs and into the ring. As Alyssa throws the microphone back towards Nikki, Robertson confidently steps towards the center of the ring, where he extends out his hand towards Alyssa, who reaches out in return and spins once before very seductively kneeling at the side of Robertson. She stands back up and helps Robertson take off the robe, handing it over the ring as Robertson climbs up the second rope to pose for the fans.
NR: … and his opponent, he hails from Chicago, Illinois, USA. Accompanied by Misty Giovanni, here is… TYLER… MORRIS!
“This Means War” by Avenged Sevenfold begins to play throughout the arena as the entrance ramp fills with smoke. As the smoke dissipates slowly, we see the figure of Tyler Morris kneeling down in the middle of the smoke…
VA: LOOK! He learned, he’s kneeling!
MM: Would you please…
Morris immediately pops up to his feet and lets out a primal scream as now standing by his side is his girlfriend, Misty Giovanni. He grabs her hand, kissing the top of it, before letting go and starting his march towards the ring, never taking his eyes off of Robertson as he makes his way towards the ring…
MM: Look at the intensity in the eyes of this man!
VA: Sure, he thinks this will be his opportunity to extract revenge for what happened at Champions Summit
MM: He started last Battlelines, preventing Martin from his opportunity in tonight’s Asylum matchup.
VA: … and he’s going to pay for that!
(Morris climbs into the ring, pausing briefly to stretch out his arms and legs in the corner as Misty stands on the floor ringside applauding him. But as the referee goes over to Morris to start to talk to him…)
VA: What in the hell is he doing?
MM: Morris is already attacking Robertson!
VA: He wasn’t even ready! He was talking to Alyssa on the outside!
MM: I don’t think Morris cares, Vince!
DING! DING! DING!
Morris’ surprise attack on Robertson worked wonderfully to his advantage, as he cornered Robertson and peppered him with fists, chops and forearms, staggering the former Network Champion. Robertson quickly dropped to the outside to regroup, but Morris followed him out, chasing him back into the ring. Robertson went to attack Morris as he rolled back in, but Morris outsmarted Robertson, and once again had him cornered in the ring, landing blow after blow. Robertson went to drop down and roll out of the ring a second time, but Morris anticipated it, pulling him back up on the ring apron outside the ropes, slamming his head against the turnbuckle first, then the ringpost, sending Martin to the floor below! The referee begins to count Robertson out, but just as Robertson gets to his feet on the floor, Morris runs from across the ring, springboarding off the ropes and landing a flying cross body on the outside of the ring on Robertson!
Morris rolls Martin back into the ring, not content to let him take a breather on the outside and recover. As soon as they’re in the ring, Martin begins to beg off of Morris, but Morris accepts the beg off by giving him the gift of a boot to the midsection. Robertson stands up, and attempts to fend off the various kicks that Morris is landing on him. The first couple land, but the last head kick Martin is able to duck under, and with Morris facing away from Robertson, Martin lands… a very, very low… uppercut on Morris, doubling him over in pain and giving Martin the opportunity he needed to regain his composure.
Martin would be the first to reach his feet, and now he’s the one that has Morris trapped in the corner, landing a couple of blows before looking out at the fans in Mexico City, yelling various insults at them, almost attempting to incite a riot. He pulls Morris out of the corner, landing a snap suplex before, once again, standing up and yelling out to the crowd. He picked Morris up, landing an overhead belly to belly suplex, sending the former Youth teammate to the center of the ring, but not attempting a cover, but just enjoying the advantage he now has over Morris. Martin casually walks over to Morris and stomps away at his body, taunting him to get up off the mat. Robertson picks Morris up off the mat, pushing him against the ropes and slapping him twice before whipping him across the ring and clotheslining him. Martin attempts a cover, but pulls Morris up at two, much to the dismay of Malone on commentary. Robertson picks up Morris and starts to work over the back of Morris, with forearms to the small of the back before picking up his former stablemate and nailing him with a backbreaker, bridging him over his knee to exert even more pressure.
Martin whipped Morris into the corner chest first, following him in not so much to add additional impact to the move, but to make sure he stayed there. Martin landed a few short knees to the small of the back of Morris, starting to set him up for his Pure Perfection finisher. But as Martin backed up to land the running knee, Morris moved at the last second, and Robertson crashes into the corner hard. Both men take a few moments before getting back to their feet. Martin is the first one up, but his right hand is blocked by Morris, who returns his own that isn’t blocked. Martin swings again, but is blocked a second time, then hit with a second Morris right… and a third… and a fourth, staggering the Three Kings member back. Morris whipped Martin across the ring and lands a clothesline. Martin pops up, but is put back down with another clothesline. Martin up again, but this time ducks the clothesline and grabs Morris attempting a German suplex, but Morris floats all the way over, then pushes Robertson into the corner face first. This was the start of the end of the match…
MM: Look at these fans, Vince! Encouraging Morris on…
VA: The fans don’t wrestle, Malone, so they don’t matter.
MM: Morris charges at Robertson… Clothesline to the back of the head! Martin is reeling!
VA: He can’t do this to a king!
MM: Morris back to the corner again, he’s looking like he’s measuring up Robertson for PTSD!
VA: Don’t turn around, Martin!
MM: Cause you’re gonna see your heart breaking?
VA: What the fuck are you talking about?
MM: Ace of Base reference…
VA: This is a very serious match, and you want to make jokes?
VA: Do your job and call the match, Malone!
MM: Heh… Morris looks set… PTSD… NO! ROBERTSON MOVED!
VA: He caught Morris… backstabber! COVER HIM!
MM: Martin’s got his feet on the ropes!
NR: The winner of this match… “PERFECTION” MARTIN ROBERTSON!
MM: What a cheater!
VA: Cheater? No, Malone. Robertson did whatever he needed to do to win!
MM: No, he cheated, and Misty is in the ring now with Tyler telling the ref about it!
VA: Christ, can people not whine and cry every time they lose a match?
MM: Didn’t Robertson do that when he lost his shot at the Asylum in Boston at the last Battlelines?
VA: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
MM: Oh, you damn sure do know what I’m talking about! Tyler’s having to pull Misty away from the ref, but Martin and Alyssa are halfway up the ramp celebrating their win!
VA: As they should! It was a hard fought match for Robertson, and a victory he deserves!
MM: Deserves? You’re out of your mind! Let’s head backstage.
VA: All hail the king!
MM: You know if it was the other way around Alyssa would have restarted the match!
VA: There was no need to. TAKE IT AWAY, SKIPPY!
YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: MARTIN ROBERTSON (10:09)
(The camera cuts to the back, where we see Terry Bull standing in front of the EWA logo screen.)
Terry Bull: Ladies and gentlemen, as this night continues to roll on, the anticipation is building towards our huge main event of the evening… the World Heavyweight Championship match, contested between six men inside the Asylum here in Mexico City. One of those men participating in that match, come on in here…
(Terry waves his arm, and in from the right hand side walks Grady Smith, already dressed for his match later tonight, wearing black pants with a white button down shirt, a long black duster and the black cowboy hat…)
Grady Smith: Hello, I’m Grady Smith.
Terry Bull: Yes indeed you are, and tonight, you’ll step inside the Asylum with five other competitors, all in the hopes of capturing the EWA World Heavyweight Championship.
(Grady looks at the camera, smiling)
Grady Smith: That’s right, Terry. Tonight, all of these great fans here in Mexico City, and all those great fans watching around the world right now, they’re getting to watch something special, something magical happen tonight. Inside that Asylum structure, they’re going to witness the cumulation of the rebirth of the Grady Smith legacy, twenty years in the making, when tonight I win the EWA World Heavyweight Championship. You ever been reborn, Terry?
Terry Bull: Not in a while, Grady.
Grady Smith: It’s a great feeling, Terry. It’s like waking up from a long nap, where you’ve got that newfound energy to get up and conquer the world.
???: Conquer what world, pops?
(Into the screen from the opposite side of Grady is “Perfection” Martin Robertson, still sweaty from his match earlier tonight against Tyler Morris. Still wearing his ring trunks, but now with a soaked “Three Kings: Perfection” black t-shirt on as well, he stands next to Terry…)
Terry Bull: Martin Robertson, what are you doing here? This isn’t your time?
Martin Robertson: Oh, it’s always my time, Terry. Because when you’re one of the Three Kings of Wrestling, any time is your time, Terry. So shut your old fat face and let me talk to dear old dad here for a moment.
(Martin looks his father up and down for a brief second)
Martin Robertson: How’s it going, “dad”? I see we changed from the brown to the black. Very stylish, very night of the living dead, which fits in perfectly down here in Mexico City, with all of these deadbeats that walk around the city! Listen…. So you were saying something about conquering the world earlier. How’s that working out for you? Because the way I see it, you haven’t conquered anything. You were gifted a victory over Michael Draven a few weeks ago by a nobody who doesn’t even work here anymore!
Grady Smith: Look, junior. I know you’re too narrow-sighted to see the bigger picture, and maybe you’re just upset that I’m in the main event tonight, and you could barely scrape a victory from Tyler Morris…
Martin Robertson: Blah blah blah blah… That’s all I hear from your old man face. It’s just noise. Because I clearly see the bigger picture. I’m not the one that’s come out and said I’m only focusing on me, am I?
(Martin, in a singing voice..)
Martin Robertson: I can see clearly now that Gra-dy’s gone…
(End sing-songy voice)
Martin Robertson: I see the big picture, and that’s the World Heavyweight Title coming home to the Three Kings, around the waist of Alexander Haven!
Grady Smith: That’s great, junior. Because it’s clearly not going to be coming home around your waist, is it now?
Martin Robertson: Stop calling me junior!
Grady Smith: Ok, sport. Why don’t you go back and hit the showers, then grab yourself a seat, ‘cause your old man is going to show you how to get things done in this business.
Terry Bull: Gentlemen!
(Martin, with a look of fury building up in his face, shakes his head a couple of times before turning around and heading out of the picture…)
Grady Smith: Fiery little king, isn’t he?
Terry Bull: … more like burger king…
Grady Smith: That’s a good one, Terry! You come up with that yourself?
Terry Bull: Well, I…
Grady Smith: So where were we?
Terry Bull: Your title match tonight.
Grady Smith: Oh yes. Must be that alzheimer’s thing the kid keeps talking about… I dunno, I don’t listen to him a lot. But to the other five people in the Asylum tonight, I hope you’re listening, because I want to make one point crystal clear. For nearly twenty years, the name Grady Smith has been synonymous with being on top of the wrestling world. The kid likes to call his little group the “Three Kings”? Son, you’re looking at the original king, the original ruler of the wrestling world. And after a long, long slumber, this “king” has come back to reclaim his throne, and I’m doing that tonight here in Mexico City! And anyone that has a thought otherwise, whether it’s from the Three Kings, HATE, Fallout, or anyone in the Asylum match I haven’t mentioned…
You ready, Terry? Can you hear the fans? Do you hear them chanting it out in the arena? Listen…
(As Grady pauses, you start to hear the chant of “Estás Muerto!” building from the arena…)
Grady Smith: They know it, you know it as well… Anyone who thinks they’re coming out of the Asylum tonight with MY World Heavyweight Championship…
(Grady smiles at the camera before turning around to leave…)
Terry Bull: There you have it, fol….
(Grady comes back in very quickly, leaning down towards Terry…)
Grady Smith: I know, they’re really just saying “you are dead” instead of You’re Dead Wrong, but to say “estas muerto incorrecto” is just too much, and just listen to the passion and the belief they have in it, but to just be clear…
(Grady looks back into the camera, this time with a much more serious look…)
Grady Smith: Alexander Haven. NOTHING. Indrid Calder. Sean Boden. Ray Willmott.
(Grady spins around once more, exiting the picture again…)
Terry Bull: Listen to that intensity, folks! Grady’s ready for the Asylum match tonight! Are you? I know I am… let’s head back out to ringside!
Maggie McIntyre & Natalie Burrows vs Michael Draven & Sahara
NR: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is a mixed tag-team match, scheduled for one fall! If the team of Sahara and Draven win, Sahara will be granted a rematch against Maggie McIntyre on the next Battlelines for the Combat Championship!
MM: As you can hear from the crowd response, they’re none too pleased with this stipulation. As you may or may not know, that was something Sahara slept her way into getting…
VA: Yeah, and notice she got it for herself, NOT the God Queen like she should have.
MM: How surprising, Vincent, that Sahara acts exactly like her “God Queen” does. Arrogant. Self-centered. Egotistical. Out for herself. The list goes on…
As ‘Hail to the King’ by Avenged Sevenfold hit’s the speakers, the crowd boos in unison as the 3K logo appears on the jumbotron as Sahara emerges onto the rampway followed closely by Michael Draven.
MM: Is she coming out to the 3K entrance now?!
VA: That’s it. I’m done with Sahara. DONE. I can’t wait until Grace holds the Queen’s Court later tonight and sets this bitch straight once and for all. I hope Maggie and Natalie kick her traitorous ass, by the way. It’s time to cut the cancer out of the Fallout, Grace, and yer looking at her right now…Gates was right about this girl from the beginning! All she cares about is herself.
MM: I see our opinion has changed on the lovely Sahara…
VA: I’m torn, Malone…on one hand her antics in hurting the Fallout don’t sit well with me, but her alliance with Three Kings…
MM: Rumor is she gets around, Ashe…
As the duo walk down the rampway, Sahara makes a point of it to show off the belt she has looped around her neck, the very same belt used to torture Maggie McIntyre weeks ago on Battlelines. Playing along, Michael grabs hold of the other end of the belt as if it were a leash, and leads Sahara down the rampway to thunderous boos.
Nikki Rogers: Introducing first, the duo known as Team Sahraven, also known as the greatest thing … ever, the destroyers of McIntyre and Burrows and the heat beneath the sheets, Michael Draven and Saharaaaaaa!
MM: And yet another announcement fed to Nikki Rogers here by this harlot, Sahara.
VA: She makes it so hard for me to want to watch Michael dish out the pain here, Malone.
MM: Your obsession with the Fallout never ceases to amaze me.
VA: The formation of the Fallout was like a beacon of hope during dark times in the EWA, Malone…
As the duo step into the ring, Sahara leans up against the turnbuckles as Michael Draven nonchalantly bounces back and forth awaiting their opponents. Grabbing the belt still looped around her neck, Sahara stands on the bottom rope and pretends to hang herself with it while pointing out at a few McIntyre fans.
Nikki Rogers: And their opponen–
Jumping down off the rope and approaching Nikki Rogers from behind, Sahara snatches the mic away from the EWA’s dedicated ring announcer.
Sahara: Take a hike, Nikki.
MM: Oh, come on.
Sahara audibly clears her throat.
Sahara: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls…annnnnnd introducing our quote-unquote opponents for the evening, weighing in at well over 2 metric tons–
As AFI’s ‘I Hope You Suffer’ hits the speaker system Sahara rolls her eyes before backing up and stands behind Michael as a no nonsense looking Maggie McIntyre storms out from the back and makes a beeline directly toward the ring jawing at Michael Draven and the girl she audibly refers to as his “side bitch” as a visibly annoyed Natalie Burrows emerges prematurely onto the rampway without awaiting her own music and charges down the ramp to catch up with her partner.
VA: Hahaha, she said they weighed two metric tons.
MM: Yeah, funny. I thought you hated Sahara tonight? And by the way, look who’s runnin’ away, Ashe!
As Maggie and Natalie hit the ring, Sahara drops the mic as she and Michael vacate to the outside, yelling up toward their opponents. Grabbing the mic, Maggie addresses both.
Maggie McIntyre: This is why I’m the Combat Champion, you pussies!
The crowd loudly approves the Banshee’s message as Sahara animatedly points over Michael’s shoulder and yells up in the direction of Maggie and Natalie. Unstrapping the belt from around her waist, Maggie holds it over the top rope, taunting Sahara with the championship much to the crowds delight.
Maggie McIntyre: How about you bitches do the world a favor, get in the ring and take the beating you both got coming like adults?
Sitting on the second rope, Natalie beckons the two into the ring as Michael grabs a snarling Sahara, holding her back.
MM: Oh yeah, I’m sure he’s holding her back!
As referee David Tucker attempts to wrangle control back in his favor, he sends Maggie and Natalie to a neutral corner and clears way for Michael and Sahara to climb the ring steps. Waving their opponents away as they stand on the ring apron, they wait a few moments until Natalie steps through the ropes. When it’s clear Maggie’s going to start the match, Sahara and Michael look at each other, both holding a fist in the air…
MM: Are they playing scissor stone paper to decide who starts the match?!
VA: Yeah, and it looks like Michael won!
The crowd cheers as it’s clear Michael Draven won the contest, but the two shake their heads and continue…
VA: Two out of three?!
The crowd boos as Sahara finally wins one after a number of tries and steps through the ropes as the winner.
MM: He won like five games in a row, yet she starts the match after winning one?!
VA: I hate that she still amuses me, Malone, I really do. Sahara has a LOT to answer for tonight.
As the crowd boos, Sahara turns toward them and feigns a crying motion as the bell rings to start the match. Before she can even react, Maggie is on her! Grabbing hold of the referee, Sahara clearly screams she’s not ready causing Tucker to wrestle his way between them.
MM: Give me a break! She’s not ready?!
As Maggie yells at Tucker for breaking them up she catches a solid forearm from Sahara that rattles her. Following it up with a knee to the gut, Sahara grabs Maggie by the hair and slams her backwards down against the mat. Jumping up Sahara bounces off the ropes and hits knee drop into a roll as she jumps to her feet with her arms in the air before taking a bow to the booing fans. Turning back, the blonde lifts Maggie by the hair and holds her hand out for the tag only Michael holds both hands up and steps around to the ringpost to the other side.
MM: Oh the coward won’t even get in the ring with her after she got sucker punched?!
VA: Why should he, as much as it pains me to say it, the traitor seems to have this well in hand.
Pulling her hand back, Sahara kisses her palm and blows a kiss to Draven before turning back and cinching in an arm bar on McIntyre.
MM: I gotta say, she’s learning quickly.
VA: She should with the witch training her like 20 hours a day from the rumblings I’ve heard.
MM: You could see those rumors probably aren’t far off by how in shape Sahara is these days.
Twisting her arm further, McIntyre slips beneath her arm and shoves Sahara into her own corner where she bumps heads with Michael Draven and stumbles back holding her head, the Banshee grabs her in a full nelson and lifts her up and slams her down onto the mat HARD.
MM: Wow! Nice move!
VA: Full nelson into a kind of modified choke slam. Sahara felt that for sure!
Finally getting a second to catch her breath, Maggie crawls toward Natalie Burrows who’s reaching out for the tag, Sahara rolls onto her stomach and grabs Maggie by the leg trying to prevent her from getting to her corner. The Banshee kicks frantically as Sahara scrambles to get a hold of her but MAGGIE DIVES FOR THE TAG!
MM: SHE GOT IT!
The crowd explodes as the Southern Bell grabs the top rope and leaps over it in one deft move and looks down at the blonde. Sahara, still down on the mat, frantically crawls backwards and reaches out for Michael Draven only Natalie’s weight crashes down on her much to the delight of the capacity crowd!
MM: She wanted no part of Natalie Burrows!
Grabbing Sahara by her tied up hair, Natalie yanks her to her feet and shoves her back into the turnbuckles kicking her in the gut a few times until Sahara stumbles forward and falls to her knees. Burrows follows it up with a crisp dropkick to her back, sending Sahara down on the mat face first. Stepping out of the ring, the Southern Belle sizes her up and leaps up, springing off the top and crashing down with a perfect springboard leg drop. She hooks the leg and makes the cover!
MM: Sahara almost didn’t know what hit her there, those strikes in the corner were as solid as I’ve seen.
VA: What little we’ve seen of Miss Burrows, one thing is certain, her striking ability is something to behold.
Ohhhhhhhh! Goes the crowd as Sahara stumbles back and Natalie grabs her throat as Tucker yells at Sahara for something.
MM: She punched her in the damn throat! That should be a disqualification and forfeiture of the match!
VA: C’mon, I think a warning is in order, Malone.
MM: It was clearly on purpose, she didn’t “miss”, Sahara doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.
Scooting herself back as Natalie gasps for air, Sahara reaches up and tags in Michael Draven much to the chagrin of the audience. As he approaches Natalie, he puts his hands around his own throat pretending to choke much to the delight of Sahara who audibly laughs out on the ring apron. Grabbing Natalie, Draven throws her into the ropes, not allowing her to catch her breath and levels her with a big clothesline.
MM: She still can’t get any air into her lungs and Michael isn’t letting up.
Slowly approaching Natalie, Michael reaches down — SMALL PACKAGE!
Surprised by the sudden move, Michael Draven kicks out with authority and scrambles to his feet as McIntyre reaches out and tags herself into the match!
MM: Listen to this crowd!
As Natalie rolls beneath the bottom rope, still massaging her neck from the illegal punch she took, Maggie steps through the ropes as Michael says something to her slowly backing toward his corner. With every step he takes back toward Sahara, the crowd boos the expectation of the tag.
VA: There is no way you’re gonna get to see Draven versus McIntyre, you sheep.
MM: Why?! He afraid to face the music?!
Half shrugging, Draven reaches back just as Sahara’s face hits the ring apron and she stumbles back into the barricade!
MM: Natalie Burrows took her out, that’s what she gets for punching her in the throat!
The crowd roars when Michael finds himself unable to tag out. He turns back toward a smiling Maggie McIntyre who goes to lock up — but Michael hits the deck and rolls out of the ring. Not having it, Maggie gives chase as Michael runs around the outside of the ring, finally sliding back in on the opposite end, Michael grabs referee David Tucker and yanks him between them as Maggie slides back into the ring. Yelling something at him, Michael once again backs toward his corner where Sahara’s finally getting back onto the ring apron. Reaching down, he tags her in!
MM: Sahara can’t believe he just tagged her in!
VA: Michael is simply playing mind games with McIntyre again, and look at how mad it’s got her! She’s completely ignoring the fact that Sahara’s the legal woman in the match!
MM: Sahara wasn’t even ready to take the tag, even she’s protesting to Michael!
Yelling over David Tucker’s shoulder, Maggie pushes her way closer to her opponent’s corner as Sahara rolls in the ring beneath the bottom rope and simply watches Maggie yelling some pretty heinous stuff at Michael. As Maggie finally turns back toward Sahara, Michael reaches over the top rope and grabs a handful of her sable hair and yanks her down from behind. An absolutely livid Maggie jumps back to her feet and rushes the corner where Michael drops off the ring apron to the continued disappointment of the crowd!
SCHOOLBOY FROM BEHIND!
VA: Sahara got her!
MM: Oh, come on!
Quickly letting go of McIntyre’s tights and dropping her feet off the ropes, Sahara rolls out of the ring with an arrogant smile, holding her arms in the air in victory as she stares up at a seething Maggie McIntyre. Making motion around her waist in reference to the Combat title, Sahara raises her eyebrows toward her nemesis and licks her upper lip as Michael joins her toward the rampway. Grabbing the blonde by the wrist, Michael triumphantly raises her hand and points at his former lover before pointing back at Sahara.
MM: Burrows had no chance to make a save there it happened so quick, and Maggie couldn’t power out of that illegal pin!
Shaking her head, the Banshee objects to the pinfall and motions to her tights as Natalie Burrows grabs the middle rope and passionately explains what Sahara had done.
MM: David Tucker clearly missed it, Ashe, Sahara not only had a handful of Maggie’s tights, but she used the ropes to leverage that pin. This is unbelievable…and now this woman gets a sham rematch for the Combat Championship courtesy of her Three Kings corruption.
VA: Hey, look on the bright side, Sahara finally did something right…for herself, however.
MM: Sahara’s clearly playing both sides with her Three Kings and Fallout ties, doing anything and everything in her favor. If anyone should be upset about this, it should be you, you Fallout shill.
VA: Don’t think that fact is lost on Grace, Malone…Grace knows all and I’m sure this will get dealt with tonight!
Nikki Rogers: The winners of this match by pinfall, the team of Sahara and Draven!
MM: Maggie and Natalie were clearly robbed here, and so were our fans of seeing some actual confrontation between these teams. Burrows has unfinished business with Sahara, not to even mention Maggie’s tumultuous relationship with her former friend, and the Banshee for sure has a score to settle with Michael Draven.
YOUR WINNERS BY PINFALL: MICHAEL DRAVEN & SAHARA (11:27)
(The camera cuts backstage to the hallway near the gorilla position. Both still drenched with sweat from their match against Maggie McIntyre and Natalie Burrows, the team of Michael Draven and Sahara can be seen talking amongst themselves–though it’s not long before something interrupts them, though its source cannot be seen at first.
Something small smacks against Sahara’s rear end before the sound of metal landing on the floor reaches her ears–and that annoying little action keeps repeating.)
“What the fuck?”
(Turning around, Sahara looks at the floor, an annoyed expression on her face.)
(Sahara–and Mike, who has noticed the blonde’s reaction–both look over to the right. The camera follows their gazes to an A/V crate which, at the moment, is serving as the seat for a petite woman with unnaturally-bright red hair. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that reads ‘Fucking classy’ across the chest in a flowing script, this newcomer lets out a wolf whistle any frat boy’d be proud of.)
???: Daaaaaamn, girl! And here I thought the sayin’ that an ass could be so tight you could bounce a quarter off it was just a cute turn of phrase. I think I got a distance of six feet off the last one!
(Her annoyed expression somewhat drains away at the oddest of complements as the blonde pivots and looks over toward the stranger. Glancing at Michael, she makes motions with her head as the duo approaches. While what she says is clearly meant for Michael’s ears, she’s easily loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear.)
Sahara: What do we got here? A wise-assed soulless ginger makin’ jokes?
(The redhead chuckles to herself, her eyes alighting with amusement.)
???: Had to pay the devil to let me out of Hell somehow. I mean, last I knew he was callin’ shoe stores askin’ after soles. Guess Satan’s gotta do what Satan’s gotta do, huh?
(Her head tilts to one side as she regards the blond, seemingly ignoring Michael’s presence entirely for the moment.)
???: I mean, you know how that goes, right Sahara? Not that I’m judgin’. The way I look at it, you’re bein’ mighty generous to spread that ass around.
(Unsure whether to be insulted or not, Sahara shrugs.)
Sahara: First off, Merida — that’s what I’m gonna call you since you didn’t tell me yer name…don’t get brave and start off with me like Nat did or the laughter’s gonna stop real quick…
(The redhead can’t help that bark of a laugh at being called Merida–her hair’s not curly, after all, and her bust isn’t exactly generous. When she hops off that crate, though, it turns out she’s blessed much the same as Sahara is when it comes to having one of those asses.)
???: First off, it’s Rachel–Rachel Ellsworth. But if you wanna stick to Merida, that’s up to you. I don’t give a good God damn what you call me so long as it ain’t late for supper–and as long as you let me all up in that ass.
Rachel Ellsworth: I’d show you a better time than ol’ Captain Grease-o there. I mean, I’m sure he tries his very best and all that shit–
Taking a step forward, Michael takes a slight step in front of Sahara.
Michael Draven: Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you’re not goi–
(Grabbing Michael by the arm, Sahara pulls him back.)
Sahara: I got this.
(Stepping forward, the former Combat champion looks down at the fiery redhead.)
Sahara: Uh, I’m not sure if you’re like the janitor’s daughter or what, but do you know who this is?! This is King Draven to you, honey…fucking royalty here in the EWA–
Rachel Ellsworth: And I’m sure his mommy and daddy are very proud.
(Despite her small stature, the Atomic Redhead doesn’t at all hesitate in getting right up in Michael’s face–unflinchingly meeting his gaze even if she’s addressing Sahara.)
Rachel Ellsworth: But the fact remains, sweetcheeks, that there’s alllll sorts of limitations that he’s got in bed that I don’t. You know what I mean, Sahara. I know you do. I guess the question is if you’re willin’ to settle for that or not. But hey, if you want to ignore my credentials…
(Rachel’s smirk only grows when she looks over at the blonde.)
Rachel Ellsworth: Why not just ask Jada? She’ll verify it all and then some.
Sahara: She’s got guts, I’ll give her that…
(Nudging Michael with her elbow, she half shrugs.)
Sahara: Ya know, people don’t actually just proposition people like that…no matter what you may have heard about me.
Rachel Ellsworth: I don’t see the point of the whole fakin’ interest in your middle name or your star sign or any of that shit. It’s just a waste of time. Bein’ direct, that’s the best way to go about things. Think about it, yeah? I mean, when His Highness… Whoever-the-Fuck’s not around to preoccupy you.
(And with a slap of Sahara’s ass which elicits a slight yelp of surprise from her, the Atomic Redhead is wandering off–turning around and making the classic ‘Call me!’ gesture with her left hand. Glancing back at Michael before finding her gaze wander back toward the backside of the fiery redhead, Sahara shakes her head.)
Sahara: What the fuck just happened?
Michael Draven: I have no clue…but don’t get any ideas. You’re enough to handle as it is…I don’t need an extra dose of crazy in my life.
(Fade to ringside.)
(Arena Mexico is wound up and ready for the next great match. Standing in the middle of the ring Nikki Rogers smiles as she begins the announcement.)
NR: EWA Fans I have exciting news. Please join me in welcoming back to the EWA….Tanya Black!
(You hear the voice of Tanya Black break out over the speakers proclaiming “The Fight Begins Now” before we hear the opening of “Lights Go Out” by Fozzy. After a moment out emerges Tanya Black causing a big pop from the audience. Standing at the entrance Tanya bows her head and prays for a moment. Wearing blue daisy dukes, red tanktop, and her infamous black leather “sexy cowboy boots” Tanya soaks in the reaction for a long moment. Lifting her head Tanya smiles and begins blowing kisses to the fans. Walking to the ring Tanya walks all the way around it hugging fans in the front row. Finally she steps in the ring.)
VA: What a wonderful outfit! The way Tanya is strolling around that ring it’s pretty clear she is healthy and ready to rock.
MM: Indeed Vincent. Tanya is healthy and rested after that brutal match at Champions Summit II. She looks ready to fight tonight.
(Tanya gracefully takes a microphone but quickly gestures for Nikki Rogers to remain in the ring. Nikki looks a little confused but follows along.)
Tanya Black: EWA I am back and God I MISSED YOU FANS!
(The fans cheer loudly and Nikki claps along. After they quiet down Tanya Black speaks again while she keeps one eye on Nikki Rogers who still wonders what is going on.)
Tanya Black: Three events. Three events in a row without being able to wrestle, the thing I love so much. Three times I have had to sit back and watch the EWA roster go to war and not be able to participate. To not be competing in front of you fans. That sucks on a level that can’t be put into words.
Before I get to my future here in EWA, there is something Nikki and I need to do first. Last week someone in this company… was tortured. Now she’s not an innocent, she’s not even someone I like. At. All. Seriously if it was a straight up fight I would have been the first to volunteer to kick her ass. I’m not saying a beating wasn’t deserved, but that was not proper. That wasn’t a fight. That was cruelty for no reason except pathetic attempts at mind games.
Yeah Three Kings! I’m talking about your shenanigans! So tonight for a few minutes Alex Haven and Mikey Draven are going to stand there in the back while Marty the Ego-Puppet fondles their balls as usual. You Three KingCunts watch as Nikki and I make a moment without dishonor and without senseless brutality. Because no matter what country you are in, Passion and Pleasure are the real Kings.
Sexy Studs in the Truck! Hit My Special Track!
(With that Sexy Naughty Bitchy by Tata Young begins playing over the speakers. A moment later Nikki catches on and she begins dancing with Tanya in the ring as the fans cheer for them. Both women slink around the ring swaying their hips in tune with the music.)
VA: I hate the disrespect Tanya shows for our bosses but wow… that’s one way to protest their actions. I wonder if I have any singles.
MM: Careful there partner. She might take them but Tanya would probably toss the money to the fans and take all you have in the process.
VA: Good point. She’s got that prankish kind of evil going on tonight.
MM: Besides don’t you still owe Nikki money?
VA: Nikki is a liar, that tequila couldn’t have been that expensive. I want to see the receipt!
MM: You are so cheap.
(With the crowd egging them on, Tanya and Nikki begin dancing closer, their bodies almost touching, only an inch or two of air between them as they bodies move to the music. Hearing the song wind down, Tanya grabs Nikki and dips her low, giving the announcer a kiss on the cheek before helping her out of the ring. Nikki blushes a little and takes a seat as the fans start a “Besarla otra vez” chant that Tanya lets go on for a few moments before speaking up and quieting the crowd down.)
Tanya Black: Now where were we? Oh yes why am I still here in EWA? Well yes I do think this 3K thing that is going on is total bullshit. Abusive Authority Figures? Very #tenyearsago if you ask me. Then again ten years ago I still didn’t buy into it. Never have played sell-out slut. *cough*Sahara*cough*
But that’s new business. Tonight I still have old business to finish before I can move on to being a pain in the ass to assholes. What old business could it be? Little PG Princess? Should I go find that little coward and see if she’s FINALLY ready to wrestle me after years of waiting?
(The fans pop huge for that one and Tanya bounces and skips around the ring egging them on before everyone ceases.)
Tanya Black: Not Yet. I kind of respect Ray and I don’t want him getting distracted when I tear his fiancee apart and humiliate her because… well you all know why I hate her. He should stay World Champion for a good while yet. Assuming he survives the Asylum tonight. Man that match looks great.
Boden? Nope he’s kind of useless now that he has no championship. Rematch no longer a top priority. New Network Champ Mephisto? No I kind of hope he and NOTHING pull off a little Mutually Assured Destruction so we can all live happier lives without either one of them around.
VA: Tanya is spitting venom tonight after waiting so long to get medically cleared and back in this ring. Maybe she’ll insult you next Malone!
MM: At least it would be a nice break from having to listen to you praise the Fallout.
VA: As if Grace would ever allow someone to stop thinking of her magnificence.
Tanya Black: No this is more recent old business. Champions Summit II business. Mexico can you feel me? Can you Feel It Coming? The suspense is such a thrill!
(Sure enough Tanya seems to be shaking as her eyes go wide like she is being possessed by a spirit.)
Tanya Black: HANK I WANT YOU! I told you this wasn’t going to be a one-and-done! You didn’t skin me, you didn’t kill me! You just made me more eager to beat you! Hank you gave me a hell of a match last time. You came at me straight up and beat me fair and square. I respect that, I even like it. Losing when the other person has your number is nothing to be ashamed about. Thing is I can’t move on with my career until I know for sure I can’t beat you. See I think I can get the pinfall on you now that I have a better idea of what you do and how you hit. Besides look at how you have been since we parted my dear Hank. Screwed out of the Asylum? Cheated out of Combat Championship? Now tonight you don’t even have a championship match. Why not? I think you deserve a shot at Mephisto’s Network Championship.
You need me Hank. Together we can do something that will make everyone aware of you and what you can do. Only I can truly highlight your talents. No one in EWA understands you except me Hank. Only I can bring out the best in you just like only you can challenge me to find that next level of stamina and destructive tendencies in just the right way. That way that enhances me and this business, not something cheap and shallow.
Give me satisfaction Hank. Give me pleasure Hank. Let’s steal the show at LIVE IN LONDON! A big stage where we can stand supreme!
Give me what I want Hank and when our little rivalry has climaxed, you can have your heart’s desire. Championships to fit around your big old waist? New Soft Piggies to play with? You’d be surprised what I can accomplish when I set my mind to it. Think about it and get back to me at Battlelines 28. I’ll be in the arena waiting on you big boy.
(Blowing a kiss Tanya leaves the ring as the fans buzz huge for the challenge and her promises of future rewards.)
MM: I can’t believe what I heard. Tanya Black has laid out a challenge to that murderous monster Hank! She wants to fight him at Live In London! Who asks to fight Hank?
VA: Someone with a death wish, Hank should be put down not respected. More important than that was the way she went about it. She isn’t angry, she’s… happy! She’s excited! Physically Excited! It’s like she couldn’t contain herself when she laid out that challenge. She wants to help Hank achieve his long-term goals once she’s done with him. This is a married woman and she’s propositioning Hank! Tanya is encouraging Hank to be a better monster! Scandal!
MM: Not quite that kind of proposition but it is certainly unique. The thing is the ball is in Hank’s court. What does he want from Tanya? Will he accept her challenge? Is this all just a mind game from the veteran wrestler? And we still have the Asylum De Los Muertos tonight! Who will walk out EWA World Champion? Who won’t walk out at all?
The Vice Squad vs Lucy Blaylock
The heavy drum beat of the Pretty Reckless’ “Heaven Knows” plays through the arena, and the crowd starts to stomp and clap along. A single purple spot hits the entranceway as the house lights die, and four figures stand at the top of the ramp. Lagrima has her head in her hands, Minxy has her hands in a Sailor moon pose to her left, Sangria stands with her arms crossed to her right, and Hueso himself stands in the back, leaning on his cane. As the chorus hits, the lights explode into brightness, and Lagrima looks up, as pyro explodes in series all the way along the edge of the stage!
NR: Introducing first, at a total combined weight of three hundred and fifty pounds….accompanied to the ring by Hueso…
The three ladies run down the ramp and slide into the ring.
Sangria takes her place, facing the crowd, center of the ring.
Lagrima poses next to Sangria, tracing the tracks of the tears on her mask.
NR: Minxy Jones!
Minxy slides in the front, legs split, flexing her arm for the crowd.
NR: The VIIIIIIIIIIIIICE SQUAAAAAAAAAD!
VA: I don’t know what these masked broads are so excited about! Don’t they remember what’s coming at them tonight?
MM: I’m sure they know full well what awaits them tonight. It’s going to be hard to forget it when you are facing someone the size of Lucy Blaylock.
The main trio of the Vice Squad huddle in the corner, as the lights go out.
A familiar porcelain mask appears on the big screen, and a figure wearing that mask steps out into a spotlight, staring down at the ring.
NR: And their opponent……representing the Fallout…..Lucy………BLAAAAAAAAAYLOCK!
MM: I still cannot get over how MASSIVE she is!
VA: Why? You thinking of climbing up there to try and get some?
MM: WHAT? I would never-
VA: Cause you ain’t got no chance, Malone! That’s one of Grace’s Angels right there!
Lucy steps over the top rope as the lights come on, and she stops dead in her tracks.
Standing in the center of the ring is a figure even taller than she is!
Lagrima, stacked on the shoulders of Minxy, on the shoulders of Sangria!
VA: That’s….probably the hottest Totem Pole I’ve ever seen.
The Vice Squad trio all have their fists clenched, standing uneasily facing Blaylock.
Lucy steps forward, right in front of these ladies as the bell rings.
Each Vice Squad member in the ring throws a quick jab, each hitting a different part of Lucy’s body.
Lucy staggers in surprise, but is quickly back in front of the Vice Squad. The ladies throw another trio of jabs again.
Lucy staggers back once more, and rips her mask off her own face. She looks to the Vice Squad, a snarl curling her lips. The Vice Squad rear back for another triple punch but Blaylock grabs Sangria from the bottom, and Lagrima from the top and lifts ALL THREE VICE SQUAD MEMBERS IN A TRIPLE BODY SLAM!
The crowd roars in surprise, and each Vice Squad member is writhing, clutching their back. Hueso’s eyes are wide in shock and Blaylock stands, a bit of strain etched on her face, but otherwise staring at her quick destruction of this lucha trio as the crowd actually…shows some appreciation for Blaylock.
THAT WAS AWE-SOME!
*Clap clap clapclapclap*
THAT WAS AWE-SOME!
*Clap clap clapclapclap*
MM: I don’t think I’ve EVER seen anything like that! Nor do I think these fans have EVER given that kind of chant to Lucy Blaylock!
VA: Lucy needs to stay on her toes! The Vice Squad are going to get over their surprise!
Each member of the Vice Squad are getting to their feet, each in a separate corner.
Minxy is up first, and Lucy charges, pancaking her in the corner with a running back splash!
Sangria is next, and she meets a similar fate, Blaylock crushing her with a massive avalanche!
Lagrima is last and Lucy runs with a full head of steam!
The former Jane Doe gets her feet up and plants the soles of her boots into the face of the massive Blaylock! Lucy staggers back and charges once more, only for Lagrima to slip away! Blaylock eats turnbuckles as Lagrima now begins to fire away with leg kicks, trying to knot up those hamstrings!
Blaylock turns and piefaces Lagrima, who is immediately replaced by a recovered Minxy Jones and Sangria!
The crowd roars as both ladies go to work, attempting to chop their much larger foe down to their size.
MM: Blaylock is beginning to falter under this two on one assault!
VA: That’s the downside to these type of handicap matches! This type of ILLEGAL DOUBLE TEAMING is perfectly fine!
MM: Sound a little bitter there, huh?
VA: Doesn’t matter, Malone. One Lucy Blaylock is formidable enough to take on three of anybody.
MM: You’re probably right.
Lagrima comes back now, and all three members of Vice Squad are hammering at Lucy, fists and feet connecting with anywhere they can.
Blaylock begins to stagger…..AND DROPS TO ONE KNEE!
The crowd roars, and the Vice Squad redouble their efforts. All three surround Blaylock, pounding down on her forehead and upper body with rights and lefts, attempting to bring the Monstress down to the canvas.
MM: It’s not pretty, but it’s been very effective.
VA: Until the power of the gamma rays, or whatever the hell gives Lucy her edge in that ring kicks back in, and bodies start flying.
As if on cue, Lucy pushes back with both hands, and all three members of the Vice Squad tumble backwards in unison!
One by one, they get back to their feet. Minxy charges with a big dropkick that finds its mark between Lucy’s breasts! Blaylock’s arms flail as she tries to keep her balance!
Lagrima comes in next, a flying forearm further staggering Lucy!
Now, Lagrima and Minxy both hook Lucy’s head for a DDT! But Blaylock won’t budge!
Sangria runs the ropes, rebounding behind Lucy and planting both feet between her shoulder blades with a hesitation dropkick that FINALLY takes Blaylock down and the other two ladies drive Lucy into the canvas with a DDT!
MM: The numbers game is effective thus far! Here’s the cover!
Minxy executes the lateral press!
Blaylock POWERS out, sending Minxy a couple feet in the air as she is lifted off the Fallout member’s chest! Before Lucy can get up, here comes Sangria! She covers!
Blaylock sends Sangria flying now, and Lagrima comes in with HER attempt!
Again, Lagrima is thrown a few feet off Lucy!
Minxy and Sangria recover, and they BOTH cover Lucy!
Lucy pushes both off her in time! AND NOW LAGRIMA AND SANGRIA ARE COVERING LUCY BLAYLOCK!
Lucy shoves the pair off her, but before she can recover, ALL THREE MEMBERS OF THE VICE SQUAD MAKE THE COVER!
Lucy Blaylock somehow is able to remove the entire Vice Squad from the cover.
Danny Smith, winded, shrugs.
AND DANNY SMITH MAKES THE COVER?!
MM: I think our referee has lost track of who’s supposed to be covering who with all of these near falls!
VA: IDIOT! YOU AREN’T EVEN A WRESTLER!
The Vice Squad stands around, confused, as is Blaylock on the ground.
Hueso slides onto the ring apron, gingerly, and MAKES THE COUNT!
Lucy SHOVES Smith off her and sits up. Angered, but definitely winded. The crowd is applauding and laughing as the Vice Squad go back to work on Lucy.
MM: Multiple two counts on the Shield of Grace, and Vice Squad need to redouble their efforts now!
VA: Before that MORON Danny Smith got involved, I was going to mention that it was actually smart by these girls to keep the pressure on Lucy Blaylock.
Lucy fights her way back to her feet, despite the onslaught by Vice Squad! She grabs the head of Sangria and tosses her to the outside, through the ropes!
She shoves both Minxy and Lagrima away, and Minxy rushes back a little faster than her partner does.
Lucy lifts Minxy up and simply TOSSES HER OVER THE TOP ROPE, ON TOP OF SANGRIA ON THE OUTSIDE!
MM: What a TREMENDOUS display of power! Good lord, I hope they’re alright!
VA: Who cares? Did you see that hang time?
That leaves Lucy alone in the ring with Lagrima.
Lagrima charges, showing absolutely no fear, and catches the giantess off her guard!
MM: Huge dropkick has ROCKED Lucy Blaylock! Get her, girl!
VA: No! DON’T get her, girl!
Lagrima wastes no time, and charges again, this time, with a huge crossbody block that causes Lucy to stumble backwards and BOTH LADIES TUMBLE OVER THE TOP ROPE!
BUT LUCY LANDS ON HER DAMN FEET, LAGRIMA CLUTCHED IN A FALLAWAY SLAM!
Lucy tosses her over her head!
LAGRIMA SPINS OUT, AND LANDS ON HER FEET!
Lucy doesn’t have time to turn before she is caught with a kick right to her knee! Lucy’s knee buckles and gives way. Lagrima turns and slides back into the ring. Sangria and Minxy are slow to get up, but they also make their way back between the ropes.
Lucy is angry. The look on her face could melt steel beams.
She grabs the top rope from the floor and pulls herself back onto the apron. She steps over the top rope, but Sangria kicks it while it’s between her legs!
VA: I don’t think that works as well as when you do that to a man, but looking at the shock and pain on Lucy’s face, I think it’s still pretty effective!
MM: I’ll go ahead and ignore your blatant sexism due to the fact you might be right about how effective it was against Blaylock.
VA: Don’t call me sexy again, Malone. I’ll have to bust out my slick dance moves, and the baby oil, and I don’t think you want that.
MM: Nor do I want this delicious Five Guys burger in front of me anymore.
VA: So, you’re NOT going to eat that?
Lucy stumbles over the top rope, into the ring. She’s hunched over in discomfort, and Sangria and Lagrima rush forward, and they’re attempting a double suplex!
Even in her painful state, Lucy STILL is able to overpower the Vice Squad. She lifts both women up for a suplex, but leaves herself wide open for a superkick from Minxy Jones! Lucy drops both Sangria and Lagrima in surprise, and they manage to roll back to their feet. Lucy clutches her chest, where the foot of Minxy Jones happened to land.
Sangria kicks Lucy in the back of the knee, swiftly. Followed up by a second kick, this time, from Lagrima.
Minxy throws a kick to the knee, and it buckles!
MM: They have Lucy down to one knee again! Get her, girls!
All three women of the Vice Squad hesitate, and then each nail simultaneous superkicks to the face and head of Lucy Blaylock!
You can actually see Lucy’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she falls to the canvas!
It takes all three masked ladies to roll the dead weight of Lucy Blaylock over, and all three make the cover!
The bell rings, and the crowd roars!
NR: Here are your winners…..the VIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE SQUAAAAAAAAAAAD!
MM: They did it! They felled the giantess!
VA: Of course they did! There’s THREE of them, one of Lucy! And she STILL nearly beat this group of masked muffs!
MM: Show a little respect, Vince! These three overcame the distinct power disadvantage and used efficient striking and teamwork to take down a formidable foe! That’s a big win for them, regardless the numbers!
VA: Not to mention the rampant cheating. Don’t forget the cheating.
MM: They did NOT cheat!
VA: Doesn’t matter. They won. Poor, poor Lucy. What will the God Queen say about THIS?
YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: THE VICE SQUAD (8:18)
(Backstage, in Azrael Goeren’s locker room, things are… surprisingly calm. Sinnocence can be seen sitting on one of the benches, as a matter of fact, going through her phone–well, right up until a pair of pale arms are coiling themselves around the upper portion of her chest from behind.)
Rachel Ellsworth: Y’know, your trainee’s a real tight-ass… and I don’t mean just in the literal sense. Is ol’ Mikey somehow findin’ a way to fuck her with the stick he’s got buried up his ass or somethin’? Cuz that’d be one Helluva party trick.
(The Viking Queen nearly throws an elbow back in surprise, but the voice is enough to stop her halfway.)
(She looks back and the realization dawns over her face before Jada halfway turns, wrapping those toned arms around her long-time friend.)
Sinnocence: Holy fucking shit, two ghosts in a week…oh jesusfuck I missed you, you crazy bitch. What the fuck are you doing here?
(The Atomic Redhead chuckles, returning the hug. The fact that she winds up partly face-down in Jada’s cleavage in the process is just a lucky coincidence… or so she’ll claim.)
Rachel Ellsworth: D’you want the real story or the made-up one?
Sinnocence: I don’t give a fuck, I’m just glad you’re here.
(The emotion in the the Viking Queen’s voice is evident as she embraces her long-time friend tightly. She knew in her bones it was only a matter of time after Natalie joining that her redheaded devil of a cousin would follow. Rachel’s arms flail a little for effect, but she’s still beaming to beat the band.)
Rachel Ellsworth: D’aww, I missed you too Sinnybuns. So, what’s this I hear about you havin’ some German sausage in your life these days?
Sinnocence: Oh, the best Bratwurst you could imagine, savory and delicious. Much better than the sad English banger I used to have.
(Food metaphors were always fun. The former stripper grins, finally releasing her hold of the redhead just long enough to steal a passionate kiss…along with a nip at Rachel’s lower lip to seal the greeting. A chuckle that’s rimmed with a moan is the Atomic Redhead’s response, her forehead resting against the other woman’s.)
Rachel Ellsworth: Hope he ain’t the jealous type…
Sinnocence: Nah, he’s the best kind of hedonist, just like me. Plenty to go around, Rach. You’ll join us soon, yeah? Even just for a sleepover for old time’s sake? It’ll be a buffet of treats, I promise.
(Rachel smirks, nodding.)
Rachel Ellsworth: As if you have to ask me twice.
(And with that, the redhead leans back in for another kiss. The camera cuts away before EWA management has to worry about licensing fees for yet another pornographic enterprise.)
The Fallout [Grace & Gaunt] vs Kharrion
EWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
NR: Our next contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit, and is for the EWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS!!
A mushroom cloud explodes on the JumboTron as rose petals fall around the entrance ramp, Lions’ “White Angel” cuing up. From behind the curtain steps Elizabeth Gaunt, her midnight black hair swept to one side and covering half of her deranged, zealotous grin. She slinks her way down to the ring, her soulless eyes staring directly into the camera.
MM: One has to be wondering where Grace Goeren is right now.
VA: She’s probably waiting for Liz to make sure that everything’s on the up-and-up.
Gaunt stops at the bottom of the ramp and crawls, slowly, into the ring, slinking her way toward the center. “White Angel” fades into Sister Sin’s “Chaos Royale,” drawing all attention to the curtain as the God Queen Herself, Grace Goeren, steps through.
MM: Isn’t it weird to you that Grace would be walking out here alone?
VA: Of course not, you rube! She’s the GOD QUEEN, Malone! All praise be unto her!
Goeren looks out at the crowd and gives a quick smirk, tracing her finger over the blood-red lip Fallout logo on her black t-shirt. She holds her hands up high, waving on the fans absolute hatred of her as she starts jawing with them before making her way down the ramp.
NR: Introducing first, the challengers! At a total combined weight of 295 pounds…
She stops and slaps a fan’s hand away, flipping off the entire arena in the process. She finally hits the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope before pulling herself up to her feet.
NR: The team of Elizabeth Gaunt and Grace Goeren…THE FALLOUT!!!
After taking a few moments to glare out at the seething audience, Grace cracks her knuckles and starts stretching out her legs in the center of the ring. Quickly, Gaunt drops to a knee as Grace turns to her, bowing her head, but Miss Goeren turns her nose up at her disciple while stretching out over the ropes. Anticipatory silence hangs over the arena as the thunderous rev of an engine comes from behind the entrance set.
MM: What the hell was that?
VA: It sounds like one of those Chicano circles has made their way into Arena Mexico.
Another louder rev is heard from behind the set, and production personnel scatter as the front end of a 1958 Cadillac Hearse pops out from a side curtain, its paint job eye-catchingly peculiar, but not as odd as the carbon black bullbar affixed to its front bumper.
VA: They’re welcoming our God Queen to the country with elaborate gifts, Malone!
The monstrous roar comes again as the rest of the vehicle forces its way out into the arena proper, enticing each onlooker to gaze upon its glory: a Giger-esque paint job of black, gray, and faint blue; a large, triple-intake bug catcher scoop protruding from the hood; a custom exhaust system that extends out the side to a pair of pipes before either rear tire; and a mural of a rotting, decaying fist airbrushed atop the hard, carbon roof, surrounded by calligraphic lettering that reads “ROTTENBERG EXPRESS.”
MM: It’s Kharrion!
VA: …so that’s what Gatesy’s money went to, I take it.
The front doors swing open, Johan Dietrich stepping out from the driver’s side and KC Rockefeller the passenger, as The Rotted’s “Nothin’ But a Nosebleed” cues up. Dietrich looks down to the ring with a smile on his face and KC adjusts his cowboy hat, slowly opening his red leather trenchcoat to reveal his half of the EWA Tag Team championship belts.
WHEN IT ALL COMES CRASHIN’ DOWN
THERE’S NOTHIN’ BUT A NOSEBLEED
NR: Introducing next, at a combined weight of 450 pounds, they are the reigning and defending EWA Tag Team champions…
Dietrich looks down to the ring with a smile on his face and KC adjusts his cowboy hat, slowly opening his red leather trenchcoat to reveal his half of the EWA Tag Team championship belts. Johan opens the rear hatch, guiding a particularly confident Jennifer Dowling to the arena floor. She lights a cigarette and strolls over to the driver’s door, reaching in only to rip Johan’s Tag belt from inside of the Rottenberg Express, slinging it over her giant’s shoulder as the trio make their way down the ramp.
NR: The team of KC Rockefeller and Johan Dietrich…
Dietrich snags a beer from an unsuspecting fan, sucking it down as KC sarcastically prances around him, a satellite of ironic foolishness. Dowling, meanwhile, savors her tobacco, blowing a smoke ring that settles above Rockefeller’s head like a halo.
Dietrich lobs his Tag belt into the ring, sliding in after it. Grace and Gaunt take to the apron as the Hired Gun marches toward them, stopping only to “bless” them with a pair of fingers and a mouthful of cerveza. Rockefeller hops onto the apron and moonwalks from one post to the other, aiming his hands like six-shooters toward the Fallout. The music dies down and they hand their belts to Dowling, an honor she welcomes via the stamping out of her cigarette to KC’s and an impromptu spit-shine to Dietrich’s.
MM: This has the potential to be a war for the ages.
VA: It also has the potential to bring some Federales into the ring.
Rick Iley reaches for the belts from Dowling but only receives a brazen middle finger for his efforts, Jennifer handing the belts back to her boys. Dietrich snatches his and storms over to the Fallout corner, inches away from both of them, and smiles as neither Grace nor Gaunt back down. He nods, chuckling, and takes a step back before he “draws the line,” placing his belt across the mat and dropping to his knees.
Johan Dietrich: Heah we ah, sweetheahts.
Grace steps out first, turning up her nose to the graffiti-covered title, and stares deep into Dietrich’s eyes. She readies herself for a punch but Gaunt holds her arm back, pulling her messiah out of potential harm’s way and slapping Dietrich across the face.
MM: Elizabeth Gaunt, apparently, wants to take the first shot.
VA: How else do you prove yourself worthy to the God Queen, Malone?
Dietrich nods, rubbing his cheek, and steps back for Rick Iley to pick the belt up. He calls for the bell as Grace and Rockefeller taking their respective aprons, leaving Gaunt and Dietrich alone in the center of the ring. Tension swells throughout Arena Mexico as the legal participants circle, with Gaunt diving in first for a double leg takedown. Dietrich stands still as she struggles to move the mountain double her size and is met with only a laugh. Gaunt looks up, her eyes burning from within, as Dietrich tussles her hair.
Johan Dietrich: Awww, how fuckin’ cute!
MM: Some, uh, choice words from one half of the defending champions…
VA: Words that may come back to bite him on the ass.
Gaunt pushes herself away and kicks Johan in the knee, buckling it. Dietrich limps away before shaking it off, nodding, applauding.
Dietrich: Atta gihl!
Johan storms in with a wild haymaker but Gaunt easily avoids it, dodging and weaving around each of the Hired Gun’s strikes. She works her way around the ring, bobbing in and out of Dietrich’s attack range, before peppering in another pair of kicks to his knee. Dietrich drops down and Gaunt, smelling blood, rushes in, locking him in a Muay Thai clinch as she sends a knee to his face. Dietrich catches the second strike, however, and hurls Gaunt high up into the air, turning his back to her as she falls face-first to the canvas.
MM: Dietrich just threw her like she was nothing!
Gaunt springs to her feet and falls into the Fallout corner, looking for Grace’s hand. Miss Goeren stares down at her, shaking her head, and reluctantly accepts the tag.
VA: I’m torn on this one, Malone. One side has our true savior, our rightful World champion, the God Queen Herself, and the other has been the most dominant tandem we’ve seen in an EWA ring possibly ever.
MM: It’s quite the even match-up.
VA: You’re tearing me apart, Draven!
Grace steps into the ring and Dietrich marches in, shoving her back against the turnbuckle. Grace fires off with a right cross before kicking him in the knee, throwing a spinning back elbow into Dietrich’s face for good measure. The Hired Gun reels back and drops, scrambling to his feet as Goeren charges in, sending a flurry of fists in his direction. Dietrich covers up as he rises to his feet, catching a right hand and twisting her arm to stop the onslaught.
Johan Dietrich: Nuh-uh, bitch, that ain’t how we doin’ it tanight!
Grace pivots and leaps, hooking Dietrich’s arm and bringing him down with a juji gatame. Dietrich scrambles and fights, grabbing his trapped arm at the wrist, as Grace tries to cinch it in.
VA: She can snap his arm right now and walk away with the Tag belts!
MM: Dietrich’s on the ropes!
Rick Iley calls for the break, and Grace tightens the hold with each count. At 4, she releases, throwing a wild boot to the side of Dietrich’s head. Johan shoves himself up and grabs Grace by the throat, lobbing her into the Kharrion corner before tagging out to KC.
MM: Rockefeller in…MACHINE GUN PUNCHES…off the ropes, tilt-a-whirl headscissors-NO!!
Grace plants KC on his head and drops a knee across his chest, pinning his shoulders down.
Rockefeller gets his shoulder up and Grace grabs his wrist, twisting it to gain torque before stomping on his elbow. KC rolls away and shakes his hand out, but Goeren is there with a handful of his mohawk, whipping him into the Fallout corner.
MM: Grace in with a HUUUUUGE back elbow!
VA: And Gaunt wants in!
Liz holds her hand up, excitedly jumping in place, but Grace ignores her follower’s concerns, laying into KC’s chest with a pair of vicious chops. Rockefeller stumbles out and Grace hooks him for a German suplex, sending the back of his head against the bottom turnbuckle.
VA: GAUNT WITH THE BLIND TAG!
Elizabeth leapfrogs the top rope into the ring, stomping away on KC as Grace, unaware until now that Gaunt has taken the initiative, is forced to the apron by Rick Iley.
MM: Grace doesn’t look too pleased with the Left Hand’s proactiveness.
Gaunt grinds her heel into KC’s face, using the ropes for leverage, and Iley starts the count. Gaunt, much like her God Queen, breaks away at 4, reaching out to tag Grace in. Miss Goeren looks at Gaunt’s hand, shaking her head, and holds her arms up.
VA: When the apostles wish to prove themselves then a just God will allow them to do so.
Gaunt, eyebrow raised, turns back to KC as he pulls himself to his feet, throwing a soccer kick into his ribs. Rockefeller flies into the air from the impact, rolling to a neutral corner, and Gaunt follows him in. She brings him to his feet, slamming an elbow across his jaw, and whips him across to the other neutral corner. Rockefeller, though, kicks off the middle turnbuckle and leaps at Liz as she charges in, catching her head and planting her to the mat with a Tornado DDT.
MM: Rockefeller caught her by surprise!
Gaunt rolls to the floor to regain her bearings and KC wastes no time, hitting the ropes and diving out of the ring with a Space Flying Tiger Drop, sending Gaunt down in a heap. KC jumps to his feet and rolls back in, staring at Grace, before giving an exaggerated stage bow for his actions.
VA: What the hell is Jennifer doing? I thought this was a fair fight!!
Dowling grabs a handful of Gaunt’s hair, in full view of Rick Iley, and…rolls her back into the ring. She protests Iley’s claims of interference, holding her hands up and arguing back to him.
Jennifer Dowling: Oh, bullshit! She was out here, I put her back in, fair’s fair!
Rick Iley: THIS IS YOUR FIRST, AND FINAL, WARNING!! IF YOU SO MUCH AS LOOK AT ONE OF THEM THE WRONG WAY I’LL KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO THE LOCKER ROOM AND YOU’LL BE FINED ACCORDINGLY!!
MM: Rick Iley all business…
VA: It’s a title match, Malone. That’s kind of his job.
KC whips Gaunt into the ropes and leaps for a hurricanrana as she rebounds, but Gaunt holds onto the ropes. KC lands on his feet, shrugging his shoulders, and charges in with a basement dropkick that Gaunt easily jumps over. She hits the ropes, looking for a clothesline that KC ducks under, kipping back up to his feet as Gaunt rebounds once more before a rolling solebutt drops Gaunt to her knees.
MM: Rockefeller off the ropes…COLD BARREL ZER-GAUNT ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY!!
Liz, once more, reaches up for Grace’s hand, this time with Miss Goeren accepting the tag. KC barely has time to react before Grace is upon him, hammering him with quick jabs before a massive European uppercut takes him off his feet. Dietrich stomps on the apron, pacing back and forth, as KC tries to fight back, his efforts met with impenetrable resistance. KC looks for a surprise headscissors and Grace throws him into a neutral corner, planting him with a DDT as he stumbles out.
Grace breaks the pin as Dietrich steps into the ring, his laugh louder than Iley’s admonishment, and Goeren brings KC to his feet. She whips him into the Fallout corner and follows in with a pair of knees to his chest, tagging Gaunt in with force before stepping out. Gaunt, shaking her hand, drives a knee into KC’s face before slapping him in the mouth, looking for a tag that is met with indifference.
MM: There seems to be quite a bit of miscommunication within the Fallout tonight.
VA: I see it more as Grace letting Gaunt prove herself, but it’s okay to be wrong, Malone.
Gaunt brings KC to his feet and stuns him with an uppercut, hitting the ropes for a running dropkick that sends Rockefeller to the apron. Once more, Liz looks for a tag to Grace, but Goeren stands still, unflinching, unmoving.
MM: What the hell is going on with these two?
As it becomes clearer to Liz that Grace is refusing entry into the match proper, she starts to lose her bearings, tearing at her hair and pounding her fist into the mat. Her tantrum, though, brings little more than a smirk to Grace, her disinterest solidified with a shake of her head. Gaunt drops to her knees, bowing down before Grace, and doesn’t notice KC Rockefeller crawling back into the ring, inches away from the Kharrion corner.
MM: TAG TO DIETRICH!!
Dietrich rushes behind Gaunt, stomping on the back of her head, and lifts both birds into Grace’s face. The God Queen scoffs at Dietrich’s adolescent insult, rolling her eyes, and Dietrich uses her momentary distraction to shove Gaunt shoulder-first into Grace’s ribs.
VA: Hey, Iley! Call for the DQ!
MM: For once, he hasn’t done anything illegal!
Grace regains her wind and slides into the ring, ready to rush Dietrich as he hauls Gaunt up for a Death Valley Bomb…but stops. She brushes Iley away as Johan plants Gaunt to the mat, a hint of a smile on her face, and steps back onto the apron.
MM: What…what the hell is going on…
Gaunt, knocked loopy, reaches out for Grace’s hand, but Goeren turns her back to the Left Hand, calmly walking down the ring steps. Liz looks out to the ramp, watching her God Queen casually make her exit, and has no time to react before Dietrich hauls her up for a powerbomb.
MM: Tag to KC…
VA: Oh, not like this!
Rockefeller flies off the top rope, his leg connecting with Gaunt’s jaw as he rides her down.
MM: GREETINGS FROM ROTTENBERG!!
Dowling bee-lines for the tag belts, grabbing them before KC can even make the cover.
Iley calls for the bell as Jennifer slides into the ring, leaping into Dietrich’s arms. “Nothin’ But a Nosebleed” cues back up and KC pulls himself to his feet with the ropes, holding his neck as Iley reaches for his arm.
NR: The winners of the match, and STILL…
VA: I can’t believe it…
NR: …the EWA Tag Team champions…KHARRION!!!!
Dowling plants a big one to Dietrich, scampering over to KC in order to do the same, as Gaunt starts to regain her bearings. She sits up with the aid of Rick Iley, looking up the ramp at Grace Goeren’s disappointed stare. Gaunt mouths the word “why” again and again, rolling out of the ring as Dietrich grabs a microphone.
Johan Dietrich: Cut the music.
The song continues and Dietrich paces back and forth, staring up at the Fallout while they make their return to the locker room.
Johan Dietrich: I said…!!
Dowling rips the microphone from the Hired Gun’s hand.
Jennifer Dowling: HE SAID CUT THE FUCKING MUSIC!!
“Nothin’ But a Nosebleed” dies again, leaving the Kharrion trio alone in the ring. Jennifer hands the microphone back to Johan as she lights a cigarette, handing it to him as well.
Johan Dietrich: Thanks, Jenny.
He puffs on it, still pacing around the ring, his attention drawn solely to where Grace once stood.
Johan Dietrich: Now, somethin’ funny jus’ fuckin’ happened, an’ it wasn’t ‘cause a’ us, fuh once. Ya done pulled some bullshit, Gracey, an’ I’m shuh that ya got ya reasons fuh doin’ it, but that kinda left us with a lot moah on ah plate than we wanted.
He furiously puffs on his cigarette, his pacing ceased as he leans against the corner, facing the curtain.
Johan Dietrich: See, we came all the way down heah ta Mayheeco City ta wage anothah fuckin’ wah, somethin’ we done again an’ again, but ya had ta run ya chickenshit ass away jus’ when shit was gettin’ in’trestin’! Now I ain’t gonna call ya both back heah ta do it right this time, I ain’t ya fuckin’ ol’ man an’ I can see ya got some shit ta deal with between the two a’ ya’s, but I’ll be damned if I let this kinda gahbage happen again.
He turns to KC and Jennifer, themselves as in the dark on his words as the audience, and smiles.
Johan Dietrich: ‘Cause ovah heah we got my brothah, KC fuckin’ Rock, and ovah theah we got the greatest managah that this company’s evah fuckin’ seen, Jenny Dowlin’, an’ it ain’t nothin’ close ta right that we gotta pack ev’rythin’ up, grab a flight ta London, an’ show up jus’ ta look fuckin’ pretty. Nah, brothah…nah…
KC catches on, nodding his head as he slings his Tag Team title over his shoulder.
Johan Dietrich: So heah’s what’s up! In a few weeks, we gonna be in merry ol’ England, smackin’ some pussy-ass soccah hooligans ‘round jus’ fuh kicks, an’ I tell ya somethin’, man, I ain’t in no mood ta do all the bullshit papah wuhk jus’ ta have anothah night off like right now.
He takes another long drag from his cigarette, flicking it into the crowd as he holds his Tag Team title above his head.
Johan Dietrich: ‘Cause this shit’s what it’s all ‘bout! These fuckin’ belts right heah! Theah ain’t nobody that ya can throw at us who can last a real faih fight, nobody with the fuckin’ guts ta take us head-on, so considah this an open challenge ta anybody ‘round the wuhld who wants ta step the fuck up!
MM: An open challenge?!
VA: That’s what he just said, Malone. Verbatim.
Johan Dietrich: Ya can be heah in the EWA, ya can be in Japan, ya can be a couple a’ fuckin’ mooks takin’ a break from moppin’ up at the glory hole, it don’t mattah! Whoevah ya ah, wherevah ya from, now ya got ya chance ta do somethin’ with ya life.
Johan grabs the nearest cameraman by the collar, pulling the lens close to his face.
Johan Dietrich: So don’t fuckin’ waste it.
Dietrich drops the mic and spits on the camera lens, storming out of the ring as Rockefeller and Dowling follow suit. The Kharrion trio make their way back to their new car, the Rottenberg Express, and Dietrich lays on the horn as his compatriots enter.
MM: An…an open challenge?!
VA: Are you just going to keep repeating yourself, Malone?
MM: But…but who the hell is going to answer it?
VA: Anybody that doesn’t mind permanent trauma.
YOUR WINNERS BY PINFALL, AND STILL EWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: KHARRION (12:44)
(We cut to the backstage area of the Arena Mexico, fading into a shot with Azrael Goeren, Josh Kaine and Sinnocence all walking down a hallway together. Josh has a towel wrapped around his neck and Azrael is excitedly walking next to him, diagramming something on his own hand with his index finger. Sinnocence can only smile, seemingly happy with whatever it is her lover is explaining to her son.)
Azrael Goeren: …you see? So when you hit the ropes and came at me for that lariat, I could see that coming a mile away because of your stance. Ja? The way you were standing gave it away. You have to disguise that or you’ll get popped every time by a good veteran.
Josh Kaine: Yeah, but if I hide it where is my leverage comin’ from? I gotta to plant my feet to get any power.
Azrael Goeren: Nein, nein…you had plenty of power from the rope momentum. You can trust me when I tell you that getting blasted with a running lariat hurts just the same as getting blasted with a planted one. Plus you’re built like a brick shithouse filled to the brim with concrete and barbwire, you shouldn’t have to worry about how hard you hit anyone. Just comes naturally to you, mein junge.
(Azrael adjusts his jaw dramatically and gives his head a shake.)
Azrael Goeren: You’re going to be something in this business, Josh. I’ve seen a lot of them come and go but you’ve got something special in you. Like your moth–
Sinnocence: Stop. I don’t want to even know where you were going with that.
(The Megastar looks offended as the trio round a corner.)
Azrael Goeren: I actually wasn’t trying to be perverted there, my dear. But it’s nice that you thought I was.
(Leaning in close, Azrael and Jada kiss gently on the lips before passionately moving in for a second attempt.)
Josh Kaine: Okay, enough…enough. I’m going to grab something to eat, you guys coming? Or are you two going to find a romantic broom closet somewhere?
Azrael Goeren: I’ll catch up, just need to grab my bags and I’ll meet you outside. I had them pull the car around.
(Giving another quick kiss to Sinnocence, Azrael gives Josh’s shoulder a very proud and affirmative shake, clearly pleased with his performance. The camera continues to follow Azrael as he turns a corner and heads to the communal EWA locker room as Josh and Sinn head in the opposite direction.)
VA: Thank God we were all spared seeing more of that, I thought only drinking the water down here gave you the shits but seeing Azrael and Jada mack on each other proved me wrong.
MM: “Mack on each other”? What are you, in middle school? They just kissed each other goodbye.
VA: Shut up, Malone.
(The camera continues rolling as Azrael finally gets to the locker room door and reaches for the metal handle. The moment he makes contact with it, Azrael is BLASTED from behind, his body checked violently into the frame and his skull making contact with the wooden door with a sickening THUD.)
VA: What the hell…?
(Azrael slumps to the floor as a figure dressed in a black hoodie and a pair of black jeans stands stoically over him. The figure is also wearing a black ski mask with dark-tinted glasses, his fists covered in tape. Azrael flings his arm back to fend off his attacker, but it’s clear that he’s not all there and still trying to recover from the first onslaught.)
MM: That’s…that’s the same guy from Boston! That’s the guy we who originally thought was a fan who brutally attacked Azrael Goeren during his match with Indrid Calder.
VA: Looks like he’s back for more!
(The masked man drives his knee directly into Azrael’s already-swollen jaw, driving him back against the door frame before Goeren slumps to the ground. Holding onto the door handle for support, the masked man drives his black work boots repeatedly into Azrael’s prone body as Goeren weakly tries to fight through the haze and fight him off. )
MM: Someone get back there and get this lunatic off of Goeren before he kills him! Azrael is completely defenseless!
(The man in black reaches down and grabs a tuft of Azrael’s blonde hair, pulling him up so the two are face to face. The masked man leans in close, almost as if he’s letting this moment soak in for the both of them before he tucks Azrael’s head underneath his arm and DRIVES him to the concrete with a single arm DDT.)
MM: Oh my god…we need some help for Azrael…we need some help…
VA: Yeah, yeah…this is uhhhh…okay…we need someone back there…
(The masked man stands slowly from the ground, staring down at a motionless Azrael before cracking his knuckles. He quickly glances up however when there is a commotion coming from behind the camera as both Sinnocence and Josh Kaine hit the scene. The masked man takes a few steps back before turning his head towards Jada and gives her a very slow nod before Jada sprints after him. The man quickly disappears down a nearby hallway as Jada stops her pursuit and runs back to Azrael, cradling his body in her arms as Josh stands off to the side, looking in the direction of the masked man. EMTs rush into the camera shot as Jada screams at them to help before we slowly fade back to ringside.)
MM: Vince…I…I don’t even know what to say. Azrael Goeren has just been blindsided for the second show in a row by this psychopath in a ski mask!
VA: Listen, I know I talk a lot of shit about Goeren but even I gotta say when you have a problem with someone, you settle that in the ring. I don’t know who this guy is or what he’s trying to prove but there aint gonna be much left of Goeren if he keeps this up. Maybe that’s the plan.
MM: We’ve heard nothing but rumors about this man’s identity over the last two weeks, everything ranging from someone Grace has hired to one of Azrael’s former tag-team partners…what happened here tonight is only going to fan those flames.
VA: Uh huh, listen Malone…I bet if Azrael ever wakes up, he knows exactly who it is. He seemed like he was pretty sure about it in Boston and I bet he’s damn sure of who it is now.
MM: That’ll have to wait for another day. The most important thing is that Azrael is currently receiving medical attention and we will keep you updated throughout the show with any updates we receive on his condition.
Sean Boden vs Lunatikk Crippler
NR: The following grudge match is scheduled for one fall, and will be fought under no disqualification rules! A competitor can only win by pinfall, submission, or knockout inside the ring!
MM: I don’t know how I feel about this match, Vince. On one side, we have one of the most bloodthirsty and sadistic fighters in this sport…
VA: And on the other, we have the exact same thing. It’s… is it bad that I’m actually hoping the Masochist of HATE pulls it out here?
MM: Bad or good, it’s indicative of a shift in the perception of NOTHING and company that you’d even consider it, Vince.
It seems strange that my life should end
in such a terrible place…
THEY WANNA SEE BLOOD
THEY WANNA SEE HATE
“America” by Deuce kicks in, and the red strobe begins to flicker. Lunatikk Crippler, the Masochist, steps out onto the stage at the historic Arena México, staring at the ring. Over one shoulder, he carries a kendo stick, the fangs of his mask shining in the red light. He steps slowly down the steps to the ramp, soaking in the feel of the place.
NR: Introducing first, from Las Vegas, NV, weighing in at 238 lbs, representing HATE, LUNATIKK CRIPPLER!
MM: The crowd surprisingly backing the Masochist here… although I guess it shouldn’t be that surprising these days, Ashe.
VA: Seriously! With the battle that Boden and Mephisto have been waging against HATE, they’re almost the underdogs here, Malone!
MM: I don’t know if I’d go that far, Vince. NOTHING and Lunatikk Crippler are far from pushovers. Both men are multi-time champions, with this man right here having been both a Rule of Surrender Champion AND a Sin City Champion in SHOOT Project.
VA: We’ll see what that gets him tonight, Malone.
Crippler stands in the ring, throwing the hooded jacket off, waiting to annihilate anything that comes in his path. Referee Rick Iley wisely stays away as the house lights go out.
The silhouette of Sean Boden stands on the entrance stage in darkness.
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT IT’S LIKE
TO BE THE BAD MAN
TO BE THE SAD MAN
A single white spotlight hits Boden, who stands with his head down, in his usual black suit and red tie, hands behind his back.
BEHIND BLUE EYES
Boden lifts his head, staring into the ring with his trademark smirk. His eyes never leave Crippler’s, as he pulls a barbed-wire wrapped baseball bat from behind him, pointing at the Masochist. He slowly walks down the steps, letting the wooden bat clunk against each step as he walks toward the ring.
NR: And his opponent, from Las Vegas, NV, weighing in at 230 lbs, representing Pariah, SEAN BODEN!
VA: Both men hailing from Las Vegas, former home of SHOOT Project… something about that place tends to stay with you, I guess.
MM: Both men made their name here in the EWA or in the NYSWF, but refined their craft in SHOOT to lethal ends, Ashe.
VA: In Boden’s case, literally.
MM: Let’s not talk about that.
VA: You have to admit, though, that despite his success in SHOOT, Crippler’s gotta still hold some sort of anger that Boden managed the one NYSWF title he couldn’t.
MM: That could very well be a fair assessment, Vince, but I’m sure Boden feels similarly about the SHOOT Project titles that Crippler earned, with Boden only ever holding the Tag and short-lived DeathKore title there.
Boden walks up the ramp, keeping his smirk on and his eyes locked with Crippler. He steps through the ropes, dropping the bat on the mat once he’s inside, and starts to remove his jacket, tie, and shirt. Iley calls for the bell, and immediately, Boden slides out of the ring as Crippler charges him with the kendo stick! Boden stands on the outside, shaking his head! He tries to convince Crippler to drop the weapon, but Crippler swings at him from inside!
Boden keeps jawing with Crippler as Crip gets more and more aggravated by the avoidance! Before Boden can react, Crippler DIVES through the ropes, sending both of them crashing against the guardrail! Boden hits his back hard, and Crippler is the first to get up! As Boden gets to his knees, Crip SLAMS the stick across the small of Boden’s back! Boden’s eyes go wide and he howls, holding his back, as Crippler drives it down again! Boden makes the smart move, turning onto his back, but Crip responds with another slam, this right between Boden’s eyes!
Boden attempts to roll away, as Crippler tosses the stick to the side, and he grabs Boden by the leg, pulling him closer! He scoops Boden up into a German suplex, and tosses him hard into the side of the ramp! Boden folds in half over the ramp before dropping to the floor! Boden groggily gets to a seated position, back to the ramp, as Crippler SMASHES his head with a Yakuza kick!
MM: Jesus, this match is barely started, and already Boden’s in a bad way!
VA: His head just got stuck between a ramp and a hard place: namely William West’s foot!
MM: That was awful, Vince.
VA: I can’t be an endless font of witty one-liners all the time, Malone.
Crippler looks around as he grabs Boden’s head, pulling him up– low blow from Boden! He gets to his feet, dropping Crippler with a double-arm DDT, and that seems to be all he can accomplish for now! Iley stands on the ramp, unable to even start a count, but both Boden and Crippler seem to be stirring! Boden’s trying to shake out the cobwebs, but Crippler gets to his feet first, whipping Boden hard into the apron! Boden stumbles back forward, and is doubled over by a huge boot! Crippler pulls him up for an apron powerbomb, but Boden counters with a hurricanrana! Boden reaches for the guardrail, pulling himself to his feet, as Crippler gets back up!
Boden quickly hops up onto the guardrail, sailing off with a blind moonsault that catches Crippler by surprise! Crippler hits the floor, and Boden leaps up with a standing senton, crushing him against the unforgiving concrete! As Crippler rolls over in pain, Boden grabs the baseball bat from the ring! He raises it into the air, admiring it, before slamming it down HARD! Crippler barely rolls out of the way, a loud “CRACK” ringing out for the Mexican crowd! Boden shakes his head, swinging once again, but once more Crippler manages to roll away! He gets to his knees, and Boden takes another swing, but Crippler dives out of the way, and Boden hits the ring apron instead! Crippler stands up as Boden swings once again, but Crippler gets in close, catching it under his arm at the base!
Before Boden can get away, Crippler drives a hard headbutt to his face! Boden lets go of the bat, stumbling back, as blood starts to pour from a cut on his head!
MM: He’s busted open, Ashe!
VA: Given the Masochist’s name, I sort of expected him to be the first one to bleed, Malone, but he has just been outplaying Boden from square one tonight!
MM: Maybe Boden’s trying to keep something in the tank for the Asylum later, but Crippler doesn’t have that burden!
VA: Well, if he doesn’t start using it, Boden may not make it to the Asylum in the first place!
Boden looks at his hand, then back up at Crippler– who drives the bat into his gut! Crippler throws the bat to the floor, and as Boden stands up again, Crippler runs in with the Lunatikk Sweet– no! Boden throws him off, and Crippler lands on his back, on the bat! Crippler flops onto the floor, grabbing his back, while Boden scoops the bat from the floor!
VA: Imagine what would’ve happened if he had hit that!
MM: Boden’s face would look like ground beef, Ashe!
Boden’s stomach is bleeding from several punctures, but he ignores it, stepping over Crippler and pulling his head back! Boden puts the bat on the ground, grinding Crippler’s face into it! He slaps Crippler in the back of the head, pushing the barbs in further! Crippler’s face starts to leak blood, and Boden starts to laugh! He reaches under the ring, pulling a table out, and leaning it up against the ring apron! Crippler is on his knees, and Boden grabs him by the head– Crippler catches him with the fat end of the bat, doubling him over! He drops Boden with a shot to the face from the bat, and Boden flops like a fish on the concrete!
Crippler sets up the table on the outside, dragging it around the corner! He pulls Boden up, tossing him into the ring! He takes the bat, and, before leaving the outside area, slides a chair into the ring, too! Crip slides into the ring, blood starting to soak into the white parts of his mask, and he grabs Boden by the bloody head! Crippler whips Boden to the corner– countered! Crippler hits the turnbuckle hard, stumbling out, and right into a flying corkscrew lariat! Crippler falls to the mat, and Boden follows up quick, pulling him up to his feet and putting him back down with a solid short-arm clothesline!
Boden smiles, dragging his thumb across his throat! He pulls Crippler up, hoisting him on his shoulder!
VA: Wrath of the Demon, Malone! Boden’s trying to end it here!
Boden charges forward with a shoulderbreaker– but Crippler wriggles out of the hold, sliding back onto his feet! West pushes Boden to the corner, and as Boden turns around, Crippler NAILS him into the turnbuckle with a spear!
MM: BLOOD DRIVE!
Boden crumples to the mat, and Crippler covers!
VA: Boden barely made it out of that in time, Malone!
MM: Crippler’s pulling out the stops here, but Boden’s one tough cookie!
VA: Really, Malone? Tough cookie? You realize this is the fucking internet, right?
Crippler slams his hands down on the mat, looking at Iley with hatred in his eyes! He grabs the bat, ripping the barbed wire off with his hands! He throws the bat wildly out of the ring, looking back at Boden and whipping him across the chest! Boden screams, rolling over, and Crippler wraps the wire around his hand, clenching it into a fist! He leaps into the air, with a fist drop to Boden’s face– but Boden isn’t home! Crippler hits nothing but mat, and Boden pops up to his feet, driving a soccer kick to Crippler’s back as he sits up!
Boden grabs Crippler’s hand, throwing it to the mat, and stomping on it, driving the barbs into the back of his hand and palm! Crippler tries to pull his hand into himself, but Boden grabs it again, roughly yanking the barbed wire off of Crip’s hand!
Boden pulls him to his feet, whipping him to the corner, and he LEAPS in with a huge calf kick! Boden hops to the apron, pulling Crip’s head up, and hooking him for a suplex to the outside — through the table! He pulls– Crippler doesn’t budge! He tries again, but Crippler hooks his leg around the second rope! Crippler drives a fist into Boden’s face, then another! While Boden’s groggy, he pulls him back through the second rope, and dropping him with a hangman’s DDT! Boden hits the mat hard, but Crippler isn’t done!
Crippler pulls Boden up, doubling him over! He pulls Boden up– no! Boden holds his ground! Crippler tries again, but Boden won’t budge! Boden tosses Crippler over the top rope with a back body drop! But Crippler holds onto the ropes, landing on the apron! Boden scoops up the barbed wire as Crippler turns around, whipping him in the face with it! Crippler covers his face, and Boden steps onto the apron, wrapping the barbed wire around his arm!
MM: I don’t like the looks of this, Vince…
He turns Crippler to face the audience, and DRIVES him through the table on the outside with the Entropy! Crippler gets a face full of barbed wire and wood! Boden rolls around, wincing, but Crippler is out! Boden powers himself to his feet, pulling Crippler’s limp body up and rolling him into the ring! Boden follows him in, and his eyes go wide with manic energy! He stands above Crippler’s prone body, and hooks his left arm!
VA: WRATH! He’s got the Masochist locked in!
He pulls Crippler up, his barbed-wire-wrapped right arm across his throat, putting pressure on the Crippler’s carotid artery, and pulling him up like a camel clutch! Crippler’s face is the picture of shock, and he howls, trying to escape! His right hand is in the air… until it isn’t! It hits the deck with a thud, and Rick Iley grabs it!
He lifts Crippler’s hand into the air, and it falls back down!
He picks it up again, and it falls!
Rick Iley pulls Crippler’s hand up one final time…
…and it falls to the mat! Iley calls for the bell as Boden drops the Masochist to the mat!
NR: Your winner, by submission, representing Pariah, SEAN BODEN!
VA: A hard fought win by Sean Boden… but he’s still got quite the mountain to climb tonight!
MM: Sean Boden may have won this battle, but is he going to be capable of winning the war tonight? He still has to face TWO more members of HATE in the Asylum, along with three other very capable contenders!
VA: If this is any indication of how HATE’s fortunes are going to go tonight, we may see that man right there walk out of here with the EWA World Heavyweight Championship, Malone!
MM: And what effect will this have on Live From London when NOTHING and Jacob Mephisto finish the battle between HATE and Pariah in a Dog Collar Match? Find out, April 11, right here on the EWA Network!
YOUR WINNER BY SUBMISSION: SEAN BODEN (13:30)
(As Sean Boden makes his exit from ringside, Lunatikk Crippler struggles to his feet, holding his jaw underneath his mask. The mask disguises his facial expression, but it’s clear he’s in pain. ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ is abruptly cut off by the opening drumbeats of Avenged Sevenfold’s ‘This Means War’, and the crowd cheers as Crippler’s attention snaps to the entrance ramp.)
VA: Oh great, what the hell is he doing? He has no business out here, Malone!
(Out from behind the entrance curtain walks Tyler Morris, microphone in hand. Morris is dressed in jeans and an “HK Wrestling Academy” t-shirt, his wet hair dangling down to his shoulders. As the music fades, Morris lifts the microphone to his mouth, a smirk on his face. Morris, mockingly, begins to sing softly, never taking his eyes on Crippler as he walks down to the ring.)
Tyler Morris: They wanna see blood…
(The crowd buzzes louder, realizing that Tyler’s turning the tables on Crippler’s stunt from Battlelines 26.)
Tyler Morris: They wanna see hate…
(Morris climbs the steel steps, stepping into the ring as Crippler rises to his feet.)
Tyler Morris: Like a needle in your veins…a sickness with no name…
(Morris, laughs, shaking his head.)
Tyler Morris: Except you’re the one member of HATE that nobody seems to want to see, aren’t you, William? The forgotten deformity of HATE, left behind. Indrid was the World Heavyweight Champion…NOTHING embroiled in a bitter feud with Mephisto…McIntyre and Draven…even Rayner manages to be more interesting than you! And you call me the forgotten man of the Youth?
(Morris shrugs his shoulders, an amused look on his face.)
Tyler Morris: Earlier tonight, I could’ve left you to the so-called “kings”, as they picked you apart. But I walked by, saw a fight, and figured, what the hell? I hate these guys too, right? But apparently your ego couldn’t handle being saved by “the forgotten former Youth member”, right?
Y’know, Misty told me not to come out here. “Don’t poke the bear”, she said. “Who cares if he sang to you backstage”, she said. “Who cares if he shoved you earlier after you saved his sorry ass”, she said.
I care, Willy. I care deeply. I don’t like being shoved. I don’t like being sang to, unless I’m getting something more out of it. You sang to me and didn’t even have the decency to offer a happy ending!
(The crowd laughs, as we see Crippler begin to shake in rage, barely containing his anger.)
Tyler Morris: The truth is, I don’t see a bear to poke here. I don’t even see a man. You know what I see out here, standing in front of me tonight in Mexico City after having lost yet another match?
(Morris steps right up to Crippler’s face, staring into his eyes.)
Tyler Morris: I see a pussy.
(And with that, Crippler slugs Morris right in the face, dropping him to the mat. Crippler pounces, like an uncaged animal, raining down hard rights and lefts on Morris’s face before picking him up, flinging him over the top rope. The lunatic of HATE follows, but as he exits the ring, Morris leaps up, swinging away with a barrage of punches. Crippler races forward, grabbing Morris even as he swings on the man, driving him into the barricade. The two fall down in a tangled heap, continuing to throw hands as a flurry of officials come out to separate the two.)
MM: Things have completely broken down here between Tyler Morris and Lunatikk Crippler, ladies and gentlemen!
VA: Let them fight, I say! Let Crippler teach that smartass punk a lesson he’ll never forget!
(Finally, the officials are able to separate the two, as Crippler bellows out at Morris. Morris wipes away some blood from his mouth with his forearm, grinning at Crippler and beckoning him to step forward, but the officials are able to herd the two to the back separately.)
MM: Unbelievable! Let’s take you backstage and find out what else is going on!
(She could already hear the celebratory tone that accompanied her annoying cheerleader voice through the door before Sahara barges into the the Fallout locker room, her fists in the air.)
Sahara: Gracie! I did it!
(Grace calmly flips through a chic high fashion magazine, casually tossing it to the floor with absolutely no reaction to Sahara’s jubilant entrance. Grace is still dressed in her wrestling gear from earlier in the night, despite the fact she didn’t do any wrestling and never even bothered to step foot in the ring. Grace leans forward and rests her head in her hands, her shoulders heaving up and then down very slowly.)
Sahara: I’m bringing the gold home, just like I promised…I set it all up. I got my connection to add the stipulation and he came through! Alyssa made it official and I got-Grace, I finally got my rematch for the Combat title!
(Sahara proudly pounds her own chest a few times.)
(The blonde seems so hopeful, so sure of herself.)
Sahara: The Combat title’s finally comin’ home to me, Grace…back around my amazing waist, right where it belongs. The whole world’s gonna be right again…
(Finally turning toward the blonde, Grace seemed rather unimpressed.)
Grace Goeren: Sahara…let me ask you something.
(Sahara stops a moment, taken back by Grace’s apathetic response after having convinced herself that the news of her victory would have been welcomed warmly by the God Queen.)
Grace Goeren: What is your job around here?
Sahara: I don’t think I understand what you’re asking…
Grace Goeren: Yeah, big fucking surprise there. Blondie doesn’t “get it”. Fuck me, I should have brought crayons so you’d understand the question. Let me dumb it down for you…what exactly is your purpose here in The Fallout?
(The callousness and bluntness of the question, spoken with a combination of venomous malice and complete exacerbation, causes Sahara to go silent while she tries to figure out what her answer should be. Grace shakes her head despondently and stands up, not making any eye contact at all with her supposed lieutenant.)
Grace Goeren: Nothing, huh? Just a blank fucking dry erase board with no clue what to say? Kay. Surprised. Not surprised.
(Grace walks over to Sahara’s side and lets out another deep sigh, still not looking her in the eye. Taking the moment, Sahara finally decides to speak and stand up for what she’s accomplished tonight…)
Sahara: Listen, I’m here to–
(Snapping into a rage, Grace suddenly pins Sahara against the nearby locker room wall with a brutal shove, knocking over water bottles and clothes stacked along the top of them. She drives a forearm directly into the blonde’s throat, trapping her against the wall.)
Grace Goeren: YOU are fucking here to do what I tell you to do! Fucking simple as that! So yeah, totes forgive me if I don’t give you an ookie cookie after every god-damned time you actually do your job. I know, it’s a huge fucking shock to me too when you DON’T fuck up but after that shit you pulled at Battlelines…
(Sahara struggles against Grace’s forearm, trying to gasp for air. She lets out a disgustingly horrifying choking noise, trying to force air into her lungs and speak out at the same time.)
Grace Goeren: Oh I know exactly what you were trying to do. You thought you would just cart your fat whore ass down to the ring and distract Lizzy long enough for Willmott to get the drop on her. You just couldn’t stand the fact that she was going to succeed where you fucked up so many times. Jealousy is an ugly thing, little bitch…and your high school drama queen cheerleader bullshit cost me my World Heavyweight Championship.
(Suddenly, Grace pulls back and lets Sahara drop to the floor. She chokes in fresh air, supporting herself on weak arms on the dirty locker room floor. Grace turns her back on her, holding her arms out wide as if to invite an attack.)
Grace Goeren: You turned on Gatesy so quickly last week…tried to throw him under the bus to save your own skin. Then you shove your cunt-face into Lizzy’s business when she was only seconds away from delivering the World Title back to me.
(Turning back towards Sahara with a strangely out of place smile, Grace kneels down next to her and calmly runs a hand through her hair.)
Grace Goeren: So what makes you think I should be happy with you pulling strings behind my back and getting yourself a Combat Championship title shot? Should I be jumping for joy and creaming my undies because you and the ass sucking swizzle stick Draven won tonight? Fucking great, now you have a chance to get your ass beat AGAIN by McIntyre and continue to humiliate my good name.
(Playfully rolling Sahara’s hair around her fingers, Grace shakes her head.)
Grace Goeren: Face it sweetie, that McIntyre chick is like your bitch kryptonite. Don’t care how much that wolf-pussy Sinn trains your sloppy ass, how much extra-curricular work you put in, or how many dicks you suck, you ain’t beating her.
(A smile suddenly stretches across Grace’s face.)
Grace Goeren: Which is why you will be giving that Combat Championship match against Maggie McIntyre to me.
(Slowly turning her head up at Grace with an angry scowl, Sahara shakes her head.)
Sahara: No. This is MY shot. I earned that title shot, and I’m takin’ back what’s rightfully mine. You know what the Combat Title means to me, Grace…to some it’s just a stepping stone, but it’s not to me. It’s not just another title. It’s the top of the food chain. It-it’s the champion of combat. The champion of the very thing we do! And I’ve been trainin’ my ass off for when this opportunity came back to me…I promised you I’d deliver gold back to the Fallout, and I have every fucking intention of doing just that…
Grace Goeren: Oh, darling…you’re just so fucking adorable when you’re angry. Trying to be a big girl in this mean and nasty world of ours. But without me, you have nothing. You think working with Sinn is going to get you over that hump? You were abso-fucktits-nothing before I found you in the garbage heap. Remember sweet little Lauren just looking for someone to love her? For someone to respect her?
(Grabbing hold of the chair she was sitting in, Grace violently whips it into the nearby wall with a loud CRASH. She gets directly into Sahara’s face, grabbing a fistful of the blonde’s hair and yanking back harshly, screaming wildly with bloodshot eyes and a demented fury.)
Grace Goeren: I MADE THEM FEAR YOU! I DID THAT! NOT YOU! THAT WAS FUCKING ME!
(Sahara grabs Grace by the wrist, trying to stop her from yanking her hair as she falls backwards against the bench as the God Queen continues her seething rant.)
Grace Goeren: So don’t you ever think that you deserve ANYTHING in this world without me giving it my blessing first. Without me, you have nothing and you are nothing. Don’t think I won’t hurt you again in public, little angel…and don’t you dare think I won’t hurt those closest to you to make you see the light.
(A cold and knowing smirk stares back at Sahara, a silent recognition of a secret that Sahara has been trying to keep under wraps.)
Grace Goeren: I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere darling, you should have known better. None of my angels have any secrets from their God Queen. Wouldn’t that be something if certain people found out about what you’ve been up to? That would get awfully messy for you…or worse, what if something was to happen to … him?
(Letting out a demented chuckle, Grace takes a step back and holds her hands out to her side.)
Grace Goeren: So what’s it going to be, Sahara? You still gonna spew out that bullshit about the title and pretend like you got some dignity and pride left? Or are you gonna do the right thing and hand over that Combat Title opportunity?
(Scooting away Grace, Sahara looks up at her, shaking her head and remaining defiant.)
Sahara: Michael can take care of himself…so you ca–
(Grace’s voice drops to a rather sympathetic tone.)
Grace Goeren: Oh, sweetie…we both know I ain’t talking about your fucktoy Michael Draven…
(A worrying look comes across the blonde’s face as she lowers her head submissively, her voice falling to a whisper.)
Sahara: You can have it…just please, leave him out of it.
(Grace smiles, clasping her hands together in delight.)
Grace Goeren: Yes. Yes! There’s my girl. You did all of this for me, didn’t you? Yes you did…you did all of this for me.
(Turning away from Sahara, Grace grabs the tossed chair and sets it up again in the middle of the room as Sahara watches on from her position on the floor, huddled up against the locker room bench. Grace sits down in the chair and calmly picks up the magazine she was reading, turning back to the article she was reading before dismissively ejecting Sahara with her free hand.)
Grace Goeren: You can leave now. And thanks for the tribute.
As a dejected Sahara helps herself to her feet and reaches for the door, Grace calls out to her again.
Grace Goeren: Just don’t go too far. We’ve still got some business to take care of tonight when we hold court…and you still have to own up to all of your recent crimes…
(Lowering her head, Sahara exits the room in disbelief. She’d just given up a shot at the Combat Title she manipulated and fought for weeks on end to obtain…and all she get’s is a dismissal to face her “crimes?”
Fade to ringside.)
MM: What a disgusting human being! Grace Goeren just bullied her way into stealing Sahara’s earned title shot!
VA: I don’t know what you’re watching, Malone, but I saw Sahara kneel before our one true God Queen and present her with an offering worthy of a daughter of God! I think this is a tremendous step in the right direction for Sahara!
MM: I…am I the only sane one here?!
Hank vs Jacob Mephisto
NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the following non-title match is scheduled for one fall!
The arena lights dim, turning a deep, blood red as Red Right Hand by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds begins to play.
NR: Introducing first, from Lincoln, Montana and weighing two hundred and ninety-five pounds, HANK!
Hank emerges from behind the curtain with his head down, his dirty worn Akubra covering his face. He stops just beyond the entrance and slowly lifts his head to reveal his evil smirk and black, soulless eyes.
MM: It’s not often that the Network Champion faces someone bigger than him, but this man right here has about twenty five pounds on him. And Hank is one of the most dangerous men in and out of the ring here in the EWA.
VA: You ain’t kidding, Malone. And Hank has got to be looking to redeem himself after his loss to his friend Maggie.
Hank stalks to the ring, rushing forward and sliding into the ring as the referee jumps out of the way. He cackles for a moment, before his eyes narrow, turning towards the entrance as the music fades.
MM: This one ought to be hard hitting, folks.
The lights cut to black. A few seconds pass and then…
TIIIIIIMEEEE… IS ON MY SIIIIIDE… YES IT IS!
The music continues as Jacob Mephisto steps onto the stage, the lights rising to a dim hue. He glares down at the ring, his pale gray gazed fixed on Hank.
NR: And, his opponent, from Nazareth, Pennsylvania and weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds… He is the EWA Network Champion, JACOB MEPHISTO!
Mephisto strokes the title belt around his waist possessively as those depthless gray eyes survey the monster of a man in the ring. He begins to walk towards the ring, his look cold and calculating.
MM: Mephisto is sizing up the bigger man as he heads towards the ring, Vince. He’s been quiet lately, and I’ve got to wonder how deep into his head NOTHING and HATE have gotten. Oh, what now?
The music cuts out along with the lights. The arena is bathed in complete darkness. The fans buzz wildly.
It seems strange that my life should end
in such a terrible place…
The fans EXPLODE with cheers as the lights come back on! Mephisto has turned to face the entrance, a look of pure malice on his face. But, what he doesn’t see is NOTHING standing on the entrance ramp behind him. Mephisto smirks, shaking his head and tapping his temple with his finger.
VA: Not so fast, Jake!
Mephisto turns back toward the ring and his eyes go wide as NOTHING rushes forward!
MM: PURE HATE! NOTHING just hit that shining wizard and Mephisto is OUT!
Mephisto has been dropped on the entrance ramp. NOTHING rushes forward, snatching the EWA Network Champion by the hair and drags him back to his feet. NOTHING leads Mephisto down to the ring on wobbly legs and rolls him into the ring under the bottom rope. He stops, whispering to the downed champion.
NOTHING: It can end in an instant. But, when I am ready, I will make it last much longer. It will be like me. It will be like my HATE. Remember, Jacob…
NOTHING nods politely to Hank and turns, walking back up the ramp.
Hank, meanwhile has snatched the referee and demands he ring the bell to start the match. Kazuya Ito shakes his head in disgust but calls for the bell out of sheer fear.
VA: What?! Ito is gonna allow this?
MM: After everything Mephisto and PARIAH have done, I think this is poetic justice, Vince!
Hank reaches down, bringing Mephisto to his feet, the Network Title falling to the canvas from around his waist. He HOISTS Mephisto up into an inverted death valley driver position!
MM: And there’s the Attempted Murder!
VA: No way!
The bell sounds and Red Right Hand plays again as Hank cackles, coming to his feet in victory.
VA: Oh, man, someone is gonna have hell to pay after this.
MM: That may be true, Vince. But, Mephisto already has a whole lot of hellish debt built up himself. This thing between PARIAH and HATE is going to explode sooner or later. Let’s go backstage now to Allison Haines. Allison?
YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL: HANK (0:46)
(We cut backstage, where we find Allison Haines standing by with Alexander Haven, who is dressed for his match tonight in his ring trunks and a 3K shirt. Haven looks irritated towards Haines as she begins her questioning.)
Allison Haines: Ladies and gentlemen, I’m joined by the EWA CEO, Alexander Haven. Alex – thanks for speaking with me.
Alexander Haven: Let’s get this over with, Allison. I have a title to win.
Allison Haines: Yes, of course. I have to ask, and I mean no disrespect, but many are calling the circumstances of the fire that took place at HK Academy suspicious considering what you had to say from that location earlier in the week.
Alexander Haven: That’s not a question, Allison. Do I need to hire new interviewers who understand how to ask people questions? And it seemed pretty disrespectful to me.
Allison Haines: Fair enough, but your exact statement was “I will leave nothing but ashes in my wake.” Doesn’t that seem a little suspicious to you?
Alexander Haven: What seems suspicious to me is that I’m about to win the biggest match of my career and bring home the EWA title, and all you can do is ask me about a fire at some abandoned building. I don’t have time for this, Allison. Find me after the match if you want to speak to the new EWA champion.
(Haven abruptly walks out of view, leaving Allison Haines alone to stare at the camera.)
Allison Haines: Well, that clears up everything. Back to you, guys.
MM: The crowd here in Mexico City has been absolutely amazing all night long and they are ready for our main event!
VA: Oh yeah, they’ve been great. I’ve already picked out a few senoritas I’m going to invite back to the hotel room later tonight for a private “one-on-one” match with yours truly.
MM: Is this going to be like Tokyo all over again?
VA: Hey, that was an honest mistake. You see someone in a dress, you just assume it’s a chick. You don’t expect them to have a…uhm…wait a second. I mean uhm…hey, check it out! Our next match has…
(Before Vincent can continue covering his ass, the arena lights start to flicker before completely being shut off. After a few moments of silence, a billowing mushroom cloud fills the video screen and an arena-shaking explosion blasts out from the speakers. As ashen confetti starts to fall from the ceiling, Sister Sin’s “Chaos Royale” hits and Grace Goeren emerges from behind the curtain to a thunderous round of boos from the assembled fans.)
VA: YES! Oh my god, is it some crazy Spanish Christmas holiday or something? La Noche de la Gracia! Everyone celebrate! We get to see our God Queen out here for a second time tonight!
MM: Not like we got to see much of her the first time, she practically just sat on the ring apron and let Kharrion gang up on her Fallout sister, Elizabeth Gaunt. Left her to fight the EWA Tag Team Champions by herself!
VA: It was tough love, Malone. The girls in the Fallout have been getting awfully disobedient lately. A little too independent if you ask me. Our God Queen just reminded Gaunt what happens when you fail her.
MM: She did the same thing to Sahara earlier tonight too, making her give up that Combat Championship opportunity she won to her. Completely reprehensible behavior from Grace which I guess is par for the course for her.
(After taking a few steps down the ramp, Grace stops and turns around as the curtain is pulled back and Duane Gates emerges to another round of boos. He shakes his head at the response he’s getting and joins Grace with a quick hug as the duo make their way down to the ring.)
MM: Just when you thought things couldn’t get any more disgusting, here comes Duane Gates.
VA: Yeah and it just goes to show you what type of rumor mongering bitch Sahara is. At the last Battlelines, Sahara was trying to spread gossip about the great work that Mr. Gates has done for all these girls and ruin his sparkling image in Grace’s eyes. I’m telling you, that Sahara is up to no good. She’s totally the weak link in the Fallout.
MM: If you ask me…
VA: …which we didn’t…
MM: But if you did I’d tell you that Sahara isn’t the problem. Gaunt isn’t the problem. Lucy isn’t the problem. The problem is that woman walking down the aisle right now and her manipulative, delusional and controlling personality.
VA: And that type of stupid analysis is why all of the fans hate you, Malone.
(As Grace climbs the steps, Duane Gates quickly rolls under the bottom ropes and waves her off. He sits on the middle rope and holds it open for her as Grace smiles warmly and steps into the ring, looking out at the sold out Arena Mexico crowd with disdain. The crowd is REALLY letting her have it as a chant breaks out from the over 16,000 strong.)
ERES UNA PERRA!
*CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*
ERES UNA PERRA!
*CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*
ERES UNA PERRA!
VA: What are they saying? I don’t speak illegal immigrant…
MM: It’s more fun to not let you know.
(Grace seemingly understands it as she flips off the entire crowd, calling for a microphone from the nearby attendant. Instead, Duane Gates snatches it from the ringside worker’s hand and gets on the microphone first.)
Gates: I guess we should expect nothing less from the trash that comes to these shows, but why don’t all of you shut your mouths and let the God Queen talk?
(As if on cue, the chant gets louder and louder as Gates waves them off angrily. He shakes his head and casually hands Grace the microphone. The minute she takes it from Duane’s hands, the boos become deafening in an attempt to drown her out. It doesn’t work.)
Grace Goeren: Wow, all of you taco-twats should really be proud of yourselves. You’ve actually managed to start a chant with THREE whole words in it. Ohmigawd, I mean like…wow. Pat yourselves on the back. 3rd grade education really kickin’ in there.
(Flipping the fans off one more time, Grace gets back on the mic and clears her throat.)
Grace Goeren: So everyone who knows me knows that I don’t like conducting Fallout business in public…
MM: Oh, yeah right! That’s the only place she does it…she just loves to humiliate everyone and…
VA: SHHHHHH! Our God Queen is speaking. Sit down and take notes.
(Grace moves to the side of the ring closest to the entrance ramp and rests casually against it.)
Grace Goeren: …but a woman like me can only be pushed so far before she has to start pushing back. I’ve watched my precious babies be at each other’s throats the last few weeks. I’ve watched Sahara try and weasel her own deals out behind my back and challenge my authority. I’ve seen my warrior Elizabeth Gaunt sacrilegiously claim her own divinity in blatant defiance of my own. And I’ve seen them fail over and over and over again after I gave them the very simple task of delivering my World Championship back to my loving hands.
(Stopping for a brief second, Grace glares down at the ground as if she’s trying to fight back against something.)
Grace Goeren: Every argument they have and every match they lose reflects back upon me. I will not accept this type of blasphemy any longer. I need to set things straight.
(The God Queen raises her head, her eyes looking like they are semi-glazed over in an enraptured state.)
Grace Goeren: I need to punish the sinful non-believer amongst us. Gaunt? Blaylock? Sahara? Get down here. NOW.
(“White Angel” by The Lions starts to blast through the arena, and Gaunt emerges from the curtains with the spotlight blazing down solely on her. Her ivory-colored hair is wet, and there are some newborn bruises just starting to turn purple along her arms and neck. If she suffers from the aftereffects of her one-woman show against Kharrion, she suffers silently and refuses to show even the most fragmented bit of weakness.
Elizabeth stalks down the ramp with her head held high, her eyes hard orbs in her head as she stares down at Grace. A permanent expression of unhinged pride seems to dominate Lizzie’s features, and beneath that there’s a mild undercurrent of annoyance…almost like she resents being called out here in this fashion.)
VA: This beautiful, ethereal creature…bear in mind that she is Grace Goeren’s FIRSTBORN, Malone. Sahara is the Right Hand…but Lizzie was the first to join her might with that of the God Queen. She is the elder sister…the evolution of the divine…and I know in my HEART that she’ll always do what’s best for The Fallout.
MM: Don’t be so sure. Gaunt’s been going through an unpredictable transformation as of late. She seems less in touch with reality…and these delusions of grandeur are taking root in her mind. It’s becoming increasingly clear that Grace’s hold on her…seems to be slipping. And after Grace’s reprehensible actions in that match against Kharrion earlier…I can’t say I blame Lizzie all that much.
VA: Swallow that non-believer tongue, Malone! The White Angel is love and light made manifest…The Firstborn would never turn against our magnificent God Queen. Paradise will not be lost…and The Fallout will not crumble!
(Gaunt slowly enters the ring and approaches Grace. The two women lock eyes…and Gaunt casually tilts her head to the side and spits up a glob of blood against the canvas. A remnant from her match with Kharrion…and a subtle act of defiance in the face of the God Queen. Grace reacts with a cool smirk before turning back towards the entrance.
The big screen comes to life. A quick shot of a faceless girl on a homemade swing, pigtails flapping in the breeze.
A blazing fire, indiscriminate if what it burns.
A poor, deceased opossum, rotting in quick time, withering away to a pile of filthy bones.
Finally, a shot of a porcelain doll, sitting in a stationary rocking chair.
And the chair slowly begins to rock as the screen dies, plunging the arena into total darkness.
Santo and Johnny’s “Sleep Walk” kicks on, and the lights grow to a dim haze. The porcelain mask of Lucy Blaylock illuminates slightly above the hue of the arena.
The Monstress begins to stalk down toward the ring, head hung low.)
MM: All the power, all the might of this devilish Southern belle, and still, she fell tonight to the speed and teamwork of The Vice Squad.
VA: You say teamwork, I say vicious and blatant triple teaming.
MM: It was a HANDICAP match.
VA: Regardless, this is the Shield of the God Queen coming our way. There’s no way we can doubt where her loyalties lie!
(Blaylock steps over the top ropes as the lights return to normal. Lucy stands in front of Gaunt, eyes locked momentarily with The White Angel, the mask betraying nothing of emotion from Lucy Blaylock.
Lucy stalks to the corner, where Duane Gates stands behind the God Queen herself. Lucy’s stare cuts into the duo, and Grace yawns, while Gates shirks slightly behind the former World Heavyweight Champion.)
MM: Gates a little uneasy around the Monstress Blaylock?
VA: Don’t blame him. You’ve heard of killing two birds with one stone? I bet Lucy could kill two stones with one bird.
(Lucy breaks her gaze and makes her way to an empty corner of the ring, turning to stare at the entrance ramp as her music ends.
The opening riff of “Adrenalize Me” by In This Moment floats over the arena as the lights bathe the arena in a blinding white light and Sahara emerges onto the rampway to a chorus of booing fans. Without her usual fanfare, Sahara walks down the rampway toward the ring looking at Grace Goeren with a scowl on her face the entire time. Never once breaking eye contact with the God Queen, Sahara jumps up onto the ring apron and stands there, motionless for an uncomfortable amount of time, staring at Grace and Duane Gates. She finally steps through the ropes and immediately moves toward an empty corner.
Leaning back against the turnbuckles with her arms spread wide, she rests them casually over the the ropes, tilting her head back ever so slightly as to stare down her nose at the leader of the Fallout and their manager, who stands slightly behind Grace.)
VA: I don’t like this at all, Malone. One little spark and this entire things goes up…look at how they’re all just glaring at each other. Look at how Sahara’s glaring at Grace and Duane!
MM: Lot of tension in the ring right now, that’s for sure.
(Grace stares out at her three fellow Fallout members before taking a step towards the center of the ring, motioning with everyone to keep things under control.)
Grace Goeren: Easy now ladies, easy…this is going to stay civil until I decide it becomes uncivil. Cause tonight? Tonight we gonna get messy. One of you bitches in the ring committed a cardinal sin against your God Queen and it’s about time I get my pound of flesh.
(Grace takes a step towards the massive frame of Lucy Blaylock, folding one arm across her chest and eying up the monstrous woman.)
Grace Goeren: Now Lucy, I’m gonna start with you. See, you haven’t done anything in particular that has pissed me off. You ain’t been secretly training with loud-mouthed cunts or blowing big matches left and right…naw, that’s not you. Instead…you’ve been doing the one thing that I cannot possibly tolerate. You’ve done nothing.
(Taking a step forward, Grace stares up at Lucy who remains emotionless as Grace berates her.)
Grace Goeren: I gave you an assignment weeks ago to get that World Championship and bring it back to me. Gaunt, for all of her sins, has taken that crusade to heart. Where is your initiative? Where is your drive? When are you going to prove to your God Queen just how much you love her? Your inaction is infuriating, Lucy…
(Suddenly breaking into a smile, Grace puts a hand up on Lucy’s shoulder.)
Grace Goeren: But I forgive you. You’re planning something, I just know it. You’ve always been a very loyal soldier to me and I know it’s just a matter of time before you make your move and deliver that World Title back to me. You are loved, Lucy Blaylock.
(Removing her hand from Lucy’s giant shoulder, the giantess kneels on one knee in reverence. Then, Grace turns coldly towards Elizabeth Gaunt which gets a HUGE reaction from the crowd as the two women stare each other down. Grace takes a step forward and sizes up the newly anointed White Angel who only coldly returns her gaze.)
Grace Goeren: You have failed me, Elizabeth. Not just in the ring last Battlelines when you were unable to take my title away from that neuterued cuck Willmott, but in what you have turned yourself into. Look at you, girl. Look at you.
(Grace waves her hand in front of Gaunt, shaking her head in disbelief.)
Grace Goeren: How can I accept what you have become? You are no goddess, what type of delusional whacked out lunatic would think like that? I know with everything we did to Entragian your mind kinda went all crazy birds bananas but you’ve started to believe in your own hype. Whatcha think, Lizzy? You thinkin’ you better than me now? You thinkin’ you don’t owe every opportunity you’ve gotten over these months to my guidance and leadership?
(The two women continue their staredown before Grace takes a step back.)
Grace Goeren: But…I’m an understanding God Queen. I know that all of my babies need to show a little individuality now and then. It’s just natural. And besides, you took your punishment in the ring earlier against Kharrion like a real mean bitch. I respect the fuckton out of that performance. You’re made of steel, sweetheart…and I’ve always got room at my side for someone like that. Elizabeth Gaunt…you are loved.
(Quickly turning around, Grace locks eyes with Sahara from across the ring. She says nothing at first, letting the hushed murmurs from the crowd speak for themselves as everyone can sense what is coming. She approaches her right hand, the woman that she put so much faith in during the formation of the Fallout and stares her down with anger.)
VA: Here we go, Malone, the moment I’ve been waiting for!
Grace Goeren: Which leads me to you, Lauren. I’m using your slave name right now because even though you gave up your Combat Championship opportunity to me tonight like a good little dog, I can’t help but think you didn’t do it out of complete love and devotion to me. You did it out of fear. And nothing disgusts me more than fear. Just look at the look on your face. That scowl. That’s not the look of reverence or love, it’s the look of … jealousy.
(As Grace slowly approaches Sahara in the corner, Lucy and Elizabeth emerge from their own corners of the ring and take position at the right and left of Grace. Duane Gates smirks as the trio of women step past him and back Sahara into her corner, leaving her no escape, and for the briefest of moments, the look of fear descends on Sahara’s face.)
Grace Goeren: That’s right. For the longest time you’ve looked upon me with those jealous bitch eyes of yours, and for the longest time I allowed it. But that time has come to an end, my darling little whore. The weakness that is inside of you is like a festering, infected wound. If we don’t clean it now, then it’s going to destroy the rest of the body. And I can’t have that. We need to be strong. We need to be … united. And I just can’t think of any way that’s possible with you in The Fallout. I’m sorry…but…
(Suddenly, Grace turns her head and looks directly at Duane Gates.)
Grace Goeren: …you’ve had this coming for a LONG time, Gatesy. Girls?
Get that fucker.
(Duane Gates never saw it coming.
Standing dumbfounded as a sinister smile slowly spreads across the blonde’s face, Sahara emerges from the corner of the ring and approaches Duane Gates, who finds himself flanked by both Lucy Blaylock and the White Angel, Elizabeth Gaunt. While not mic’d up, the Crimson Queen says a single word, which can be heard loud and clear.)
(Grabbing the now former Fallout manager by his tie, Sahara slowly wraps it in her fist, pulling him closer and closer with each turn of the hand. While the rage and fear in his eyes is clear, he’d like nothing more than to rip this little blonde bitch’s head off, but stands fully aware he’d have no chance. Pulling him in close, Sahara plants a devilish kiss on his forehead. Reaching back toward Grace, she hands Sahara the mic with a bit of a proud smirk on her face.)
Sahara: Duane, Duane, Duane. I want to thank you for … everything. This opportunity in particular. But in the end, it was you that you tried to tear us apart. We are forever. The Fallout basks in the God Queen’s light, a light so bright, that not even you, the infamous destroyer of careers could snuff it out. I’ve been waiting for this moment, Duane…oh so much.
(The disdain in her voice was evident.)
Sahara: Thank you for creating me … just so I could destroy you. Ya see, while you closed business deals and got her affairs in order…that’s a job any lawyer could do. I, on the other hand…do things only the right hand of God could do…like whatever the hell she commands me to do. As you’ll soon find out…
(Releasing his tie, Sahara holds her arms out and slowly backs away — just as Elizabeth Gaunt’s fist crashes into the side of his face. As he reels sideways, Lucy catches him and pops him from the opposite side, dropping him to his knees.)
Sahara: Goodbye, Mr. Gates.
(Sahara suddenly charges forward and field goal kicks her boot directly between his legs, eliciting a deafening howl from deep within as a corresponding “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh” emerges from the crowd. Grabbing his groin, Duane doubles over in indescribable pain and nearly falls face first onto the mat, only Lucy grabs him by the collar, keeping him on his knees.
As Sahara steps to the side, Elizabeth Gaunt bends down, yelling in his face, “Blood sacrifice, piglet…the stone altar awaits”, as she drops to her knees, eye to eye with the former Fallout manager.
Gaunt pulls him forward by the collar and just SMASHES the top of her skull against his face with a merciless headbutt. Gates makes a little horrible snuffling sound, and Gaunt responds by doing it a SECOND…and then a THIRD time.
She finally lets him drop back to the canvas, Duane’s nose a ruined pulp that’s dripping plasma like a faucet. Lizzie’s own pale forehead is stained in Duane’s blood, and some of it drips down to cascade past her grinning silver fangs.)
Gaunt: Frail. Soft. Just sacrificial meat…
(She shakes her head, Duane’s blood dripping off her chin and splattering the canvas.)
Gaunt: A mortal sack of flesh…has no place at the side of higher beings, Duane.
(She leans down, squeezing his cheeks together, blatant terror shining in his tortured eyes. She reaches into her pocket, pulls out a silver crucifix…and promptly jams it into Duane’s open mouth. He gags, spitting up saliva and bile, making a horrible mess of himself…and that’s when Blaylock leans down and wraps her enormous hands around his throat. Lifting him with relative ease, Lucy brings him down with a thunderous chokeslam. Turning to his side, Duane slowly drags himself toward the ropes out of survival instinct.)
MM: It looks like the God Queen has forgiven Sahara and took it all out on Gates, instead.
VA: Of course she did! That was the plan all along, Malone! I knew Sahara was forgiven the entire time! All welcome back the right hand of Grace!
MM: You don’t expect me to believe you were in on this?! All night long you were running Sahara down for being a traitor to the cause!
(Saying something to Grace as she walks past her, Sahara brings a boot down on the back of Duane’s head HARD, bouncing his forehead off the mat, cutting off his attempt to crawl toward the ropes.)
MM: Uh oh, she’s not about to let up!
(As blood pools near Duane’s face, Sahara dips her fingers in it and traces his blood down over her right eye, the signature of the Crimson Queen. As a smile slowly spreads across her lips, she dips her fingers in his blood again and begins to outline his body on the mat. Witnessing this brings a sparkling grin to the White Angel’s face as she begins doing the same, helping Sahara outline Duane’s unconscious body with his own blood.)
VA: Sinister, Malone…and needless to say, but the Fallout are BACK!
MM: And sicker than ever, making a blood chalk outline of their former manager! And look at Grace simply sitting back and enjoying the carnage her “angels” are putting on display!
VA: All hail the God Queen!
(Grabbing the mic, Grace Goeren stands next to Duane and points down at him.)
Grace Goeren: Get this fat piece of trash out of my ring, girls!
(Complying with the order, Lucy drags Duane toward the ropes as Sahara and Gaunt kick him a couple more times for good measure, as his limp body rolls out of the ring and crashes to the outside. Leaning over the top ropes, Sahara spits down on Duane Gates, a look of fury in her eyes. Seeing the blood outline of his body on the mat brings a smile to the God Queen’s face.)
Grace Goeren: Let this right here serve as a warning to all who defy me. This outline right here represents each and every one of you cunts that think they’re gonna stand up to ME and my babies. In Tokyo, when the Fallout came together, we set the wrestling world on fire. Tonight…we reignite the flames of war.
(Holding the mic out, she drops it with an echoing thud and stands front and center, flanked by Sahara and the White Angel and the looming monstrosity directly behind her. A look of absolute resolution on the God Queen’s face.)
Main EventASYLUM DE LOS MUERTOS
FOR THE EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
The lights in the arena suddenly dim down, and an omnious bassline begins to thrum over the PA system as the spotlights in the area shine up above the ring at the monsterous Asylum structure, slowly beginning to lower to the floor.
MM: Ladies and gentlemen, what you’re peering up at along with the rest of us is the Asylum de los Muertos, the Asylum of the Dead. It is absolutely one of the most dangerous structures in this entire business. Twenty feet high, made with cruel, unforgiving steel mesh. The structure encloses the ring and the majority of the ringside area. At each corner on the outside of the ring inside the Asylum sits a pod, each housing a Warrior inside. And the person that survives tonight will be the EWA World Heavyweight Champion. Last year, it was the Incomprable One, Chris Kage, who defied all odds and expectations to capture the championship in this very arena.
VA: Chris Kage is a thing of the past, Malone! He’s like Spud McKenzie, the Backstreet Boys and women who don’t shave down below – ancient history! Tonight is the night that Alexander Haven walks out of the Asylum the rightful EWA World Heavyweight Champion!
MM: Indeed, Haven has a strong chance at capturing the prize tonight, but never count out the reigning World Heavyweight Champion, ‘Red Hot’ Ray Willmo–
VA: Seton. ‘Red Hot’ Ray Seton. Get it right, Malone.
MM: And speaking of Seton, Laura Seton made history in this very match last year, becoming the first person in the EWA to gain a pinfall over the legendary Sinnocence, who was the champion at that time. Could tonight see her husband retain the championship? Or will the dangerous Sean Boden escape the demonic Asylum with the EWA Championship?
VA: Don’t forget about Indrid Calder and NOTHING, Malone. HATE is two strong in this match, and on sheer odds alone, this match is in their favor!
MM: And last but not least, one of the true legends in our industry, Grady Smith. Ten World Championships over the years…could tonight be number eleven? We’re about to find out, as the structure locks into place…it’s time for the Asylum!
VA: Malone, I get goosebumps just looking up at this thing! It’s huge!
DING DING DING!!
NR: Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for the Asylum de los Muertos match!
The Mexico City crowd pops for the announcement, as the lights remain dim for Nikki Rogers’ ring introductions.
NR: In this contest, there are no countouts, and no disqualifications. The match will begin with two Warriors inside the ring. At five minute intervals, a pod on the outside will open at random, allowing a new Warrior to enter the ring. Warriors can be eliminated by pinfall or submission, and the last standing Warrior will be declared the EWA…World…Heavyweight…Champion!
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT IT’S LIKE
TO BE THE SAD MAN
TO BE THE BAD MAN
A single spotlight shines down on the darkened arena, revealing the silhouette of Sean Boden – sans suit, after his battle with William West earlier in the evening – standing at the entrance ramp.
BEHIND BLUE EYES
Two streaks of red pyro shoot off on either side of Boden, as the lights come up and he slowly makes his way to the ring. He barely gives the Asylum a cursory look, having competed in the past in some of the most barbaric, dangerous matches in professional wrestling history, instead entering through the door and climbing the steps to enter the ring, slowly and methodically.
MM: This man right here, ladies and gentlemen, despite the fact that he’s already been in one violent match tonight…this is my pick to leave tonight with the World Heavyweight Title. Sean Boden is one of the most dangerous individuals in the history of this business, and to him? A man that loves violence the way he does? This is just another match.
VA: Just another match? Oh, I beg to differ, Malone. This type of environment is where Sean Boden thrives. He has to be salivating at the thought of all the damage he can cause tonight.
MM: Indeed, he’s a former EWA Network Champion, and this is his first opportunity to capture the biggest championship in our sport. And after the war with Lunatikk Crippler earlier tonight, I have a feeling he’s just getting warmed up.
NR: Introducing the first participant! From Las Vegas, Nevada, weighing in at 230 pounds…SEAN…BODEN!!!
Senior referee Danny Smith tries to instruct Boden on where to go, but Boden glares at him, before finally exiting the ring, entering the northwest pod. The music dies down, as we await our second entrant…
NR: Introducing next…
Suddenly, all of the lights in the arena fall dark, save for a few very faint lights embedded in the entrance stage. As they barely illuminate the entrance area, a fog begins to grow around the stage, rising up and enveloping the stage. As the whisps of smoke dance back and forth glowing an eerie white from those original dim lights, they instantly begin to burn a bright orange as towers of flames now begin to shoot through the middle of the stage, accompanied by the sound of an acoustic guitar playing over the arena’s sound system. The music is soon joined by a very ominous voice…
SEE THE FIELDS BURNING…
SEE THE FIELDS BURNING…
WELL I SEE THE FIELDS BURNING
‘CAUSE HELL IS COMING THROUGH
I CAN’T STOP…
THE DOGS OF WAR…
As “Dogs of War” by Blues Saraceno continues to play, and as the flames continue to shoot up through the fog on the stage, walking through it all with no reaction to the theatrics around him is the man himself, Grady Smith. The shadowy figure of the former ten-time World Heavyweight Champion strides slowly towards the edge of the stage where the fog and flames seem to end, wearing a traditional long jacket and cowboy hat. As some of the lights begin to come up in the arena, Grady looks out to the fans, who have started a rather boisterous “GRA-DY!” chant. He pauses halfway down the ramp, hands on his hips, now looking up at the monstrous structure that is the Asylum…
MM: Vince, Grady Smith has been in as many different types of matches that you could possibly dream of, including one on a moving cruise ship! But this Asylum structure is something completely different.
VA: It’s different for those that are in their prime wrestling condition, Malone. For someone of Grady’s age, the only thing he should be seeing is a nursing home!
MM: Grady has more than held his own so far here in the EWA, Vince.
VA: Grady held his own, great. This match isn’t about holding your own. This match is for the EWA World Heavyweight Championship, Malone. You think this man should be the face of the EWA?
MM: Yes, yes I do Vince.
VA: You’re delusional.
Grady enters the Asylum, stepping into the middle of the ring and looking at both the fans and the structure once more before removing his hat and jacket and handing them to the referee…at this point, the lights in the arena dim down as the chorus of Avenged Sevenfold’s track hit the Arena Mexico’s PA system…
HAIL TO THE KING
HAIL TO THE ONE
KNEEL TO THE CROWN
STAND IN THE SUN
HAIL TO THE KING!!
NR: Accompanied to the ring by Alyssa Marie Haven, from Buffalo, New York, weighing 245 pounds…he is one of the Three Kings of professional wrestling, and the owner of EWA Entertainment…ALEXANDER…HAVEN!!!
A single spotlight shines down on the stage, revealing a confident Alexander Haven, calmly chewing a piece of gum. Alyssa Marie, dressed to kill in a form-fitting dress, stands at his side, arm wrapped around her man. Haven surveys the crowd, listening to the deafening boos, before leaning over to kiss Alyssa Marie. The Queen Bitch turns away, heading toward the back, as Haven marches down the ramp toward the Asylum structure, pausing for a moment to gaze up at the top of it.
VA: This is no place for a lady, Malone. Who knows what that scumbag Grady Smith might try!
MM: I highly doubt that, but nonetheless, I agree, this is not a place for Alyssa Marie to be. And as the former NYSWF World Heavyweight Champion gazes at the Asylum, the reality sinks in that once you’re locked inside that structure, you’re either coming out as the winner, or you’re likely being carried out, Vince.
VA: Oh, make no mistake about it, Malone. You’re looking right now at the next Heavyweight Champion in Alexander Haven. Bend the knee, Malone! Bow to your king!
Haven enters through the open door in the structure, quickly climbing up the steps and entering the ring. The former Youth leader climbs to the top turnbuckle, yelling out to the crowd and pointing at himself as the boos continue to rain down on him, before finally exiting and heading toward the northeast pod.
MM: No big surprise here that Alexander Haven isn’t starting this match, ladies and gentlemen.
VA: I…don’t know what you’re implying, Malone? You heard Nikki Rogers earlier. The order in which the wrestlers is completely random —
MM: Uh huh. Completely random. SURE IT IS, Vince.
VA: I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, Malone, but it sounds an awful lot like treason. Don’t make me get Marty or Michael out here.
It seems strange that my life should end
in such a terrible place…
The distorted vocals of Placebo fade away, rolling into the opening of Puscifer’s ‘Smoke & Mirrors’, as a fog slowly begins to roll through the darkened entrance ramp. Through the camera flashes and the gray lighting we see the Purveyor and Stranger step out from the entrance curtain, side by side, brothers in HATE.
NR: Representing HATE…first, from Nothing, Arizona, weighing in at 225 pounds…THE STRANGER…INDRID…CALDER!! And from Albany, New York, weighing 255 pounds, he is the Purveyor…NOTHING!!
MM: NOTHING and Indrid Calder, showing solidarity in their ring entrance, and this is a dangerous, dangerous sign for the other four combatants inside the Asylum, ladies and gentlemen.
VA: Malone, this match is for the EWA World Heavyweight Championship. Prudence and Indrid can talk all they want about hive solidarity, but I’ve been around Prudence for a long, long time, and make no mistake about it – he’d turn on Calder in a heartbeat if it meant claiming that title, and I believe Indrid would do the same here tonight.
MM: I think you may be wrong on that front, Vince, as the HATE collective truly views itself as such.
VA: They’re not the Borg, Malone. Human nature states that they’ll be at each others’ throats, and I can’t wait.
As Calder and NOTHING enter the massive Asylum structure, Calder heads toward the southeast pod, while NOTHING slides into the ring, removing his entrance robe and staring up at the ramp, waiting for the final participant in the Asylum to enter…
All lights in the EWA arena dim and the crowd immediately roars in response. There’s only one entrance left and everyone is eagerly anticipating the spectacle to come.
VA: Here comes the champ!
A heavy breathing sound filters across the PA system and the top of the ramp way is suddenly filled with smoke, a red hue spotlight piercing its way through. As the breathing becomes clearer, so it turns into a whispered voice…
Those who disregard history are doomed to repeat it.
Those who shun symbolism strengthen the significance
For tonight is prophecy
And on this day, in this place, at this time
A world watches
A creature arrives
And cinders of a Flame dynasty will blaze anew.
Some may advocate
Others will oppose
But all will learn the inevitable truth
When it comes to gold…
….Come not between the dragon, and his wrath…
The word ‘wrath’ is spoken as if through the lips of a snake and a huge burst of flame erupts at the foot of the stage to greet the rise of the EWA World Heavyweight Champion and a large audible eruption from the capacity crowd.
Arms stretched outward, head tilted upward, ‘Red Hot’ Ray Willmott surfaces with the EWA World Heavyweight Championship strapped around his slender waist.
VA: As if straight from the depths of hell, Y Ddraig Goch, the personification of the red dragon has risen into the EWA Arena … Who writes this crap?
MM: I’ve no idea, but this crowd is loving it. What an ovation!
Just as Malone says, the crowd is fully behind the final form of Ray Willmott who remains in a statue-like pose for a few moments as the fire burns all around him. Then, with one sudden motion, he simultaneously tilts both arms downwards and punches the ground before him, setting off a trail of fire either side of the rampway, down towards the imposing Asylum structure, eventually setting off a large pyro pop around the ring as it connects.
VA: Holy SHIT!
The smoke disperses and we see Willmott hunched forward, almost crawling his way down the rampway.
NR: And from Cardiff, Wales, weighing in at 220lbs, he IS the EWA WOOOOOORLD … HEAVYWEIGHT … CHAMPION…. ‘RED .. HOT’ … RAY … WILLMOTT
As the crowd chants along with his name, the champion creeps his way down the burning rampway, his attire clear for all to see with red and white, scale-like body paint covering him all over, black onyx eye contacts, and a half-face covered in thick, spiked teeth and pointed snout. He wears a spiked up mohawk-like wig, with four huge protruding spines, all doused in red.
Willmott eventually slithers into the ring where NOTHING is waiting for him. They both make eye-contact for a long time, before Willmott finally unstraps his title, nestles his forehead against it, then passes it across to George Abjornson.
Willmott removes his spiked wig and shakes his hands out as he glares at NOTHING, the crowd buzzing in response.
“LET’S GO WILLMOTT
LET’S GO NOTHING
LET’S GO WILLMOTT
LET’S GO NOTHING”
VA: These two men were involved in what was, arguably, the best match of 2016 in the Path of the Warrior tournament. Now they’re kicking off the Asylum for the EWA World Heavyweight Championship. It does not get any bigger or better than that!
MM: Keep in mind, Willmott is the only man in this match who has been in the Asylum before so that does give him a slight advantage in this situation.
VA: Perhaps, but starting the match with four other competitors the caliber of Indrid Calder, Alexander Haven, Grady Smith and Sean Boden still to come out? All former World Champions. I don’t fancy his chances.
MM: So you’re saying Willmott loses the EWA World Heavyweight Title tonight?
VA: No doubt. As Champion, you could not find yourself in a worse position than this. Plus, history is against him. Not only was he first eliminated last time, nobody has successfully defended a championship in The Asylum.
A timer appears on the huge EWA screen to begin the first five-minute countdown of the match. Once it ends, another pod will open and someone else will join the match.
MM: Well, we’re about to find out as the bell has sounded. Main Event time. HERE…WE…GO!
NOTHING and Willmott, meanwhile, walk right up to one another, getting in each others’ faces.
MM: There’s no love lost between these two, folks…they had many a war back in the NYSWF!
VA: What a shot!
Indeed, NOTHING reared back and slapped Willmott right across the mouth, as if daring the World Heavyweight Champion to retaliate…and Willmott does, throwing a flurry of fists at NOTHING! Willmott quickly whips NOTHING into the ropes, but the Purveyor is able to duck Willmott’s clothesline, and quickly slides to the outside of the ring. But Willmott swiftly follows him, running up from behind him and dropping him with a forearm to the head!
MM: When the warpaint is on, Willmott’s like an uncaged animal! He’s relentless right now!
Willmott picks NOTHING up, ramming him face first into the steel mesh of the cage. NOTHING crumples to the ground, and Willmott goes after him, picking him up – but NOTHING gains the advantage with a rake to the eyes, and whips the champion directly into the pod of the Stranger! Calder doesn’t even flinch as Willmott’s body flies into the plexiglass structure, and Willmott slumps to the ground. NOTHING takes a moment to recover, wiping the sweat from his brow before grabbing the champion and throwing him back into the ring. Calder says something to Prudence that we can’t quite pick up, and NOTHING nods back in his direction, before rolling in after Willmott. NOTHING picks Willmott up, but Willmott throws NOTHING’s arms up, connecting with a hard right on Prudence!
MM: Huuuuuuge right hand from our defending World champion!
VA: Why not just say his name, Malone? Why do you have to hype him up as hard as you can?
MM: Are you serious?! Ray Willmott’s the World Heavyweight champion! He’s defending the title as we speak! Are you really going to give me crap because I’m talking about the champion…!
VA: Blah, blah, blah…
Willmott whips NOTHING into the ropes, readying for a back body drop, but NOTHING catches the World champion off his guard with a boot to his face. Ray drops to a knee and NOTHING hits the ropes.
MM: PURE HATE…RAY DUCKS IT…!!
Willmott kips up to his feet and hits the ropes as NOTHING turns.
MM: Ray’s looking for the ULTIMATUM…NOTHING holds on…SPICOLLI DRIVER!!!
The ring shakes from the impact of Willmott’s back on the canvas, but NOTHING wastes little time in making the cover.
Willmott kicks out with authority and NOTHING kneels up, staring down at the World champion. As if on cue, a countdown starts, with the Mexico City crowd chanting along.
VA: And now we come to the champion’s disadvantage, Malone.
NOTHING tries covering Willmott again, but Danny Smith refuses to count, due to the ongoing countdown. The Purveyor grabs Smith by the collar, but Smith refuses to count along.
MM: It could be any of them! It could be Indrid Calder, it could be Alexander Haven himself.
NOTHING rises to his feet and stomps on Willmott, enjoying what’s left of their fleeting moments alone.
A loud BUZZER goes off as one of the pods begins to open…
MM: It could be…IT’S SEAN BODEN!!!
Boden takes a deep breath and steps from his pod, his eyes affixed on NOTHING as he climbs into the ring. Willmott pulls himself into a corner as Boden and NOTHING meet in the center of the ring. The peaceful existence is ripped away with a right hand by Boden, followed quickly with a tackle and a barrage of punches. NOTHING covers up and kicks Boden away, catching the Dead Soul with a monstrous clothesline.
VA: Good luck, Collins.
MM: Are you blind? NOTHING almost just took Boden’s head off!
VA: And wherever Boden goes, somebody else isn’t far behind.
True to his word, Ashe starts laughing as Jacob Mephisto, Johan Dietrich, KC Rockefeller, and Jennifer Dowling suddenly begin marching out from the back. Kharrion take the lead, Dietrich brandishing his screwdriver and KC armed with a pair of bolt cutters, and Mephisto takes his time, proudly swinging a dog collar around on his finger.
MM: Get security! Get them right now!
NOTHING locks eyes with Mephisto as Rockefeller takes the bolt cutters to the cell’s wall, cutting away at the steel grating,
MM: They’re trying to break into the Asylum!!
VA: This is amazing!!
Officials and security swarm the trio, trying to prevent their entry into the Asylum, but are unsuccessful, Dietrich shoving them away with ease. NOTHING readies himself as KC snips his last link, kicking away at the cage’s fencing to create their own opening.
VA: I don’t think security’s going to be able to do much, Malone. Not even in Mexico!
Dietrich plows through the rest of the fencing, grabbing Rockefeller and pulling him in. Both members of Kharrion pull themselves onto the apron, with Dietrich pointing his screwdriver at NOTHING.
Johan Dietrich: Right theah, brothah? That’s the look ya get when the feah a’ God been knocked inta ya.
MM: I think Dietrich may be mistaken here, folks…NOTHING fears no man!
VA: He’d better, Malone! He’s outnumbered in a major way right now!
NOTHING holds steady, daring the Tag Team champions to enter the ring. Mephisto steps through the cage and holds a hand out for Jennifer, which she takes with caution.
MM: Those…GET THEM OUT OF HERE!! GET SOMEBODY OUT HERE WITH A BADGE, WITH A GUN, AND FORCE THEM AWAY FROM THE RING!!
Mephisto smirks as Boden sneaks up behind NOTHING…
VA: NOTHING’s just come down with a sudden case of the WRATH!!!
MM: …you disgust me…
Malone and Ashe bicker about as Dietrich looks to Mephisto for guidance. Jacob nods and, soon, both members of Kharrion are attacking NOTHING as Boden keeps him locked in his katahajime. Dietrich digs the screwdriver into NOTHING’s face as Rockefeller fires off on his midsection with machine gun punches, halting only because Willmott makes his presence known to them. The fans explode as Ray tees off on Rockefeller, dragging the Young Gun away from the fray, but it doesn’t last for long as Dietrich grabs Ray by the throat, tossing him into the corner.
VA: One Drillbit Gvtfvck, coming right up!
Dietrich’s boot knocks the wind out of Willmott’s sails as Boden releases his hold on NOTHING, stepping away while Mephisto climbs into the ring. Jacob beckons Dietrich over to him and slaps him across the face, alternately pointing to both Willmott and NOTHING.
Jacob Mephisto: This burden is not yet his to bear! Remember the plan!
A scowling Dietrich nods and shoves Rockefeller, pointing to the ropes. Boden drops a knee across NOTHING’s chest, driving whatever air remains from his lungs, and Mephisto kneels over him, fitting the dog collar around his neck.
Jacob Mephisto: Remember my words? I. Own. You. You are nothing but a trained hound to me. Sit!
Jacob pulls NOTHING up to a seated position, smacking him across the face.
Jacob Mephisto: Stand!
Mephisto and Dietrich bring NOTHING to his feet while Boden grabs the chain leash attached to his dog collar. Johan smacks NOTHING across the face to “waken” him, nodding over to KC.
Jacob Mephisto: Now, this is the easiest of all commands to learn.
Jacob leans in close to NOTHING, grabbing a handful of his hair.
Jacob Mephisto: Play. Dead.
Jacob knees NOTHING and doubles him over, allowing Dietrich to hoist him up for a powerbomb. Boden pulls on the chain as KC springboards off the top rope, and Dietrich powerbombs NOTHING down across Boden’s knees as Rockefeller connects with a spinning wheel kick to his throat.
MM: I don’t…I don’t even know what to call that!
VA: Call it what it is, Malone!
MM: SICKENING…just, just SICKENING…
NOTHING lies prone on the mat, knocked completely cold by the Memento Mori/Greetings From Rottenberg combination, and Mephisto leans over into his face once more, waving Kharrion away from the ring.
Jacob Mephisto: OBEY!
Mephisto stands and dusts himself off, nodding to Boden before he follows Kharrion back out of the cage. Security finally swarms around, with some of Mexico City’s finest slapping cuffs on Dietrich after a brief shoving match.
MM: Kharrion and Pariah have just laid waste to NOTHING once again!
VA: They left a gaping hole in the wall of the Asylum, Malone!
MM: And you have to believe that when NOTHING finally gets his hands on Jacob Mephisto at Live From London, there’s going to be hell to pay for all of this…oh come on!
Inside the ring, Sean Boden has just placed a boot on the chest of the Harbinger of HATE. Demanding that Danny Smith count, Boden jabs a finger down at the mat, and Smith obliges…
NR: NOTHING has been eliminated!
MM: And that’s just not right, ladies and gentlemen. Those men weren’t even in the Asylum, and they just cost NOTHING an opportunity at the EWA World Heavyweight Championship!
NOTHING HAS BEEN ELIMINATED FROM THE ASYLUM (9:01)
Boden turns toward Willmott…only to have Willmott execute a picturesque standing dropkick, sending Boden sprawling to the mat. Boden quickly gets to his feet, but Willmott is on the offensive, whipping Boden into the ropes, and lifting him high over his head with a back body drop. Boden scrambles underneath the rope to the outside, trying to turn the momentum, but the champion isn’t done yet, as he gets a running start from the other side of the ring, and launches himself through the ring ropes, driving Boden – and by proxy, himself – into the wall of the Asylum!
MM: What an incredible display of athleticism by Ray Willmott!
VA: You mean what a moronic display of stupidity, Malone. That dive hurt Willmott’s head just as much as it hurt Boden! He used himself as a human torpedo into that cage wall!
And as Willmott and Boden struggle to their feet, the timer begins to count down, and the Mexican wrestling fans chant along with it…
Boden recovers first, and FLINGS Willmott into the steel cage structure, flipping him in mid-air so that Willmott lands upside down back-first on the wall of the cage!
Boden begins looking back and forth at the pods, trying to gauge who will come out next…
MM: Imagine the possibilities here! Boden and Calder, for the first time ever? Old rivalries renewed with Boden and Haven, or Boden and Grady! This is what the Asylum is all about!
Boden quickly leans down, fishing under the ring and grabbing a steel chair, before continuing to look back and forth between the two pods to determine his next opponent.
A loud BUZZER goes off as one of the pods begins to open…
MM: IT’S GRADY SMITH!!! The legend is in the Asylum!
VA: There’s a party in every nursing home around the world right now!
Grady Smith exits the pod, rushing at Boden, who suddenly swings the steel chair with all of his might right at Grady’s head! But Grady ducks the chair swing, and fires off with a series of punches that send Boden staggering back against the cage wall, forcing him to drop the steel chair on the outside. The ten time World Heavyweight Champion grabs Boden by the arms, sending him careening into the steel steps – Boden’s knees make impact, and his body flies over the steps, landing in a crumpled heap at the wall of the Asylum. Grady turns, only to meet the end of Ray Willmott’s fist!
MM: All three of these men had legendary battles years ago in the NYSWF!
VA: But nothing they’ve ever experienced can prepare them for being locked inside the Asylum, Malone!
Inside the remaining pods, Alexander Haven and Indrid Calder look on as Grady and Willmott begin to trade fists on the outside. Grady gains the advantage, grabbing Willmott and slamming the champion face first into the ring apron before sliding him into the ring. The legend lifts Willmott to his feet, whipping him across the ring into the ropes, and drives the champion squarely into the mat with a powerful spinebuster! And now Grady makes the cover!
MM: We could guarantee a new champion right here!
WILLMOTT KICKS OUT!!
Grady looks up at Danny Smith, slapping his hand in the palm of the other three times, as if to confirm the count. Danny Smith holds up two fingers, shaking his head, and Grady nods, chuckling as he pulls Willmott to his feet. Willmott fires off with a punch, but Grady quickly recovers, kicking the champion in the stomach and lifting him up on his shoulders…
VA: Oh no, Malone! The old man has him!
MM: Grady Smith’s going for the Chokebuster! This could be it for Willmott!
Grady, with Willmott on his shoulders in the reverse torture rack position, plants his feet, lifting Willmott up for the finishing sequence of the legendary Chokebuster…but Willmott somehow manages to slip off of Grady’s shoulders behind him, grabbing Grady from behind by the neck…
MM: ECHOES IN ETERNITY!! OH MY GOD WHAT A COUNTER!
VA: Willmott’s covering Grady!!
MM: SEAN BODEN FROM BEHIND WITH THAT STEEL CHAIR!
VA: Thank you, Sean Boden! My hero!
Boden, an erie calm on his face, begins to lay waste to both Willmott and Grady with the steel chair, bending the frame of the chair as he lays into their bodies with it. Finally, he flings the chair aside, making a tremendous crashing sound as it collides with the outer walls of Indrid Calder’s pod on the outside of the ring. Calder, amazingly, never even flinches, as Boden stands in the ring, breathing heavily. His head slowly turns toward the entrance ramp, and he storms off, leaving the ring and…
VA: What the hell? Malone, what’s he doing?
MM: Sean Boden is…he’s slipping through the hole in the Asylum that Kharrion cut into the wall earlier! The Asylum is designed to keep these warriors inside, not let them escape!
VA: Oh my god, Malone!
MM: He’s climbing the Asylum! You’ve got to be kidding me! What the hell is Sean Boden doing?!
Indeed, Boden has begun to climb the Asylum from the outside, to the roar of the crowd – despite their feelings toward the former Network Champion, they’re more than intrigued by what he’s doing. Boden finally reaches the top, walking across the cage. The steel mesh sinks slightly with each step that he makes, but it doesn’t seem to bother Boden, as he stands on the center roof of the Asylum, twenty feet in the air. He looks down at the prone bodies of Ray Willmott and Grady Smith, as well as Indrid Calder and Alexander Haven, looking up through their pods…and Boden promptly sits down on the cage, crossing his legs Indian-style, as he continues to observe the scene below him. The crowd continues to buzz as the countdown clock begins!
VA: Malone…I can’t believe I’m saying this but…I think he’s daring someone in the ring to fight him on top of the Asylum!
MM: I don’t think anyone’s crazy enough for that, Vince!
VA: Malone, they call it the Asylum for a reason! All six of these warriors are crazy for being in there in the first place!
A loud BUZZER goes off as one of the pods begins to open…
VA: It’s The Stranger! Indrid Calder has entered the Asylum!
MM: Of course he has, Vince! What an amazing coincidence that Alexander Haven is the last to enter. I’m SURE that wasn’t set up in advance!
VA: I don’t like the tone you’re speaking with, Malone. You need to respect the king around here!
Calder steps out of the pod, looking at the carnage toward the ring…and then looking up at Sean Boden, twenty feet above him on the roof of the Asylum. Calder’s expression, blank as always, gives away nothing…but his actions do, as he starts toward the hole in the Asylum wall! The Arena Mexico crowd erupts as Calder slips through the opening!
MM: Oh my god, Indrid Calder is answering the call of the deranged Sean Boden!
VA: Paramedics, stand by! This is not going to be for the squeamish!
MM: These two had words for each other on Combat TV leading up to tonight’s event, but I never imagined we’d get to this point!
Boden remains seated as Calder slowly climbs the Asylum, reaching the top. As the Stranger pulls himself up to the roof, Boden finally stands up, the steel mesh shifting below him as he plants himself. The two stand, staring at one another for a moment, before Boden finally shows a bit of emotion – a smirk crosses his face. Calder makes the first move, and the two meet each other. Calder strikes first, with a hard right, but Boden counters with a left, and before long the two are trading a flurry of fists on top of the Asylum! Boden gains the advantage with a knee lift square to the chin of Calder, and grabs the Stranger, hooking Calder’s head underneath his arm. Boden lifts Calder up into a stalling vertical suplex position!
MM: Calder’s hanging almost thirty feet in the air in total!
VA: Malone, I don’t know if the Asylum roof can take this! This isn’t what this structure was built for!
Boden, almost in slow motion, falls backward, driving Calder into the steel mesh! The cage sinks downward under the impact of the vertical suplex, but thankfully, does not give, as Calder’s hand shoots to his lower back in pain. Boden, also hurting from the impact, slowly gets to his feet, grabbing Calder by the hair and pulling him to his feet. Boden begins to walk Calder across the roof of the cage…and toward the edge, near the commentary position.
VA: That’s it. I’m out of here, Malone.
MM: What? What are you doing?
VA: Malone, open your eyes! If one of those two falls, we’re going to be smashed to pieces! No way, this isn’t in my job description!
We hear a CLUNK as Vincent Ashe’s headset drops, and the commentator walks off, stopping at the other side of the cage near Alexander Haven’s pod. Haven, like everyone in attendance, has his eyes glued to the top of the cage, where Boden now stands, pointing down to the tables below!
MM: My colleague may have had a point…
In the ring, Willmott and Grady have stopped watching the proceedings above and are battling it out once again. Up above, things are looking dire for the Stranger…But before Boden can launch Calder off the roof of the Asylum, Calder responds with a flurry of elbows to Boden’s stomach. Calder grabs Boden by the head, pivoting on one foot and flinging him back toward the center of the cage. Boden hits the steel mesh hard, rolling toward the center as Calder watches him land. Boden ends up on his stomach, gritting his teeth and propping himself up on his elbows as he struggles to get to his feet…and at that moment Calder races toward him, leaping high in the air…
…connecting with his For The Horseman curb stomp, and the impact from the curbstomp causes the roof of the cage to COLLAPSE!! The crowd ROARS as Boden falls straight through the collapsed section of the cage to the mat below!! And somehow, Calder manages to get a handhold on the dangling section of cage, preventing himself from falling along with Boden!
MM: OH MY GOD!!!!
Boden lies in a crumpled heap on the mat, not moving, and Danny Smith immediately rushes over to check on him. Calder pulls himself up from the panel of the Asylum that’s hanging down below, and climbs back on top of the roof, looking down below at the mess that is Sean Boden’s prone form. Willmott and Grady have stopped fighting, watching the proceedings…but suddenly out of nowhere, Willmott rolls Grady up from behind! And Danny Smith quickly leaves Boden to make the count!
GRADY KICKS OUT!! Both men scramble to their feet, and Grady LEVELS Willmott with a thunderous clothesline that flips Willmott in mid-air as the countdown begins for Alexander Haven!
A loud BUZZER goes off as one of the pods begins to open…
MM: And here comes Alexander Haven, the smug son of a bitch!
VA: That “smug s.o.b.”, need I remind you, Malone, is not only your boss, but he’s about to be your EWA World Heavyweight Champion, and you’d be smart to show the proper respect!
Haven slides into the ring, shaking his head and chuckling, and immediately crawls over to Sean Boden, hooking the leg for the cover! Danny Smith hesitates before sighing, and making the count…
NR: Sean Boden has been eliminated!
MM: Oh, I bet you’re really proud of yourself, Alex! Great job! What a kingly way to get a victory!
VA: Mock it if you want, Malone, but the bottom line is that there’s now one less competitor in the Asylum for Alexander Haven to deal with.
SEAN BODEN HAS BEEN ELIMINATED FROM THE ASYLUM (20:18)
Haven gets to his feet, raising his arms in the air in triumph as Danny Smith helps Sean Boden out of the ring. Haven turns around…and comes face to face with none other than Grady Smith!
MM: Grady Smith and Alexander Haven have a storied rivalry, ladies and gentlemen. If there’s anyone outside of 3K that this man still has respect for, I’d argue that it’s Grady Smith.
VA: These two headlined Night #1 of Path of the Warrior back in June, Malone!
MM: Indeed they did, and it was Alexander Haven that squeaked out a win on that night. But the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been before here inside the Asylum, with the EWA World Heavyweight Championship at stake!
Grady and Haven begin talking trash to one another, their facial expressions gradually increasing in intensity. Haven turns away, but suddenly fires off a right – that Grady promptly blocks. A couple of quick jabs to Haven, followed up by a side headlock on Haven by the legend. Haven shoves Grady off into the ropes, and hits the mat as Grady leaps over him. Grady comes back on the rebound, but Haven runs underneath a clothesline attempt, turning around and hitting a backstabber. Haven quickly makes a cover, but Grady kicks out before Danny Smith can even get into position! Grady quickly gets to his knees, smirking at Haven, who clearly wasn’t expecting that. Haven and Grady begin circling one another…but out of nowhere, Ray Willmott leaps from the ring apron, springboarding off the top rope and hitting Haven with a dropkick! And now Willmott scrambles over to make the lateral press cover on Haven!
But Grady Smith leans down, grabbing Willmott around the waist and picking him up with a deadlift German suplex! Grady bridges, and now Danny Smith crawls over to make the count for Grady!
Willmott kicks out! And Haven strikes, having quickly grabbed the steel chair that Boden previously bent, cracking Grady across the shoulders with it!
VA: So much for respect, Malone! There’s no reason to respect the man after the kind of father he was to Martin Robertson!
MM: You’re disgusting.
Out of nowhere, Indrid Calder drops into the frame behind Haven – who hasn’t even noticed. The Spider King whips Haven around, and begins teeing off on him with a barrage of fists and kicks!
MM: Calder said his number one target in the Asylum would be Alexander Haven! Haven was part of that heinous, sickening assault on Maggie McIntyre at Battlelines 27, and Calder is finally getting some retaliation for that right now!
VA: Maggie deserved every bit of that, Malone! Alex doesn’t deserve this!
Calder sends Haven flying into the ropes, catching him off the rebound with a snap powerslam. The Stranger springs to his feet, stomping down on the 3K leader’s face before pulling him to his feet. Calder, with a vicious intensity we don’t generally see, aggressively lifts Haven high into the air, before dropping him down into a brainbuster. Calder doesn’t even attempt to go for a pinfall, though, as he pulls Haven back to his feet again, whipping him toward the corner. Haven has the ring presence, however, to slide out of the ring, and quickly races around the ringpost, sliding back in and rushing toward Calder – only to have Calder smash Haven across the head with that bent steel chair!!
MM: What a shot from Indrid Calder on Alexander Haven!
VA: Malone, he was able to get his hands up just in time to soften the blow, but even with your hands up, taking a chair to the face is going to cause some pain!
And indeed, Haven’s bleeding from the nose now as he struggles to try and get to his feet. Calder stalks him from behind, chair in hand…but suddenly Ray Willmott grabs Calder’s head, racing toward the turnbuckle…and hits a running Tornado DDT!
MM: THE ULTIMATIUM! RAY WILLMOTT HITS IT! Here’s the cover!
HAVEN DRAGS WILLMOTT OFF OF CALDER AND THROWS HIM TO THE OUTSIDE OF THE RING!!
MM: What the hell? Why would Haven stop Calder from being eliminated?
VA: He’s kicking the crap out of Calder, Malone, that’s why! Calder set off a fire in Alexander Haven, and now he wants to be the one to take Calder out himself!
Haven picks Calder up, flinging him into the corner and charging him with a head of steam, spearing him in the stomach. On the outside, Grady Smith and Ray Willmott are once again fighting, each desperately trying to gain an advantage over one another. Meanwhile, in the ring, Calder staggers out, and Haven sets the Stranger up into a powerbomb position, stretching his arms out and soaking in the boos from the audience.
VA: Finish him, Alex! Ascend to the throne!
Haven lifts Calder up, but Calder’s able to flip out of the powerbomb, landing on his feet. He kicks Haven in the stomach, and plants him on the mat head-first with a vicious DDT, to the roar of the crowd. Calder crawls away, slithering as though he were a coiled serpent ready to strike, and gets to his feet in the corner, beckoning for Haven to get to his feet.
MM: He’s going for it! For The Horseman!
Haven slowly lifts himself to one knee, struggling to regain his composure. Like a predator sensing his prey, Calder races towards Haven at that very moment, leaping in the air with his right boot elevated…
MM: FOR THE HORSEME… WHAT?!?
VA: OH MY GOD!
As Calder’s foot comes in contact with the back of Haven’s head, in an instant, Haven summons all the strength he can muster, shooting both himself AND Calder up from the mat. Calder, shocked at the sudden redirection, is now airborne as Haven gets to his feet. Looking up at Calder in the air, Haven shuffles his feet slightly, moving under The Stranger, catching him on on his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry position, and in one swift motion…
VA: FALL FROM GLORY!
MA: OH MY GOD!
VA: That has to be the greatest counter anyone has ever seen, Malone!
A commotion is seen from the crowd, and as Haven makes the cover, Danny Smith drops to make the count…but then quickly stands up, rushing toward the side of the cage.
VA: What the hell is this goof doing? Count the damn pinfall!
MM: Vince, look!
As the camera pans left, we see the reason for Danny Smith exiting the ring, as a fan in a black hoodie has somehow managed to elude security, jumping the guardrail and is slipping through the opening in the Asylum. Danny Smith attempts to cut him off, but the fan swiftly ducks around the senior referee and slides underneath the bottom rope. Haven, clearly angry with this intrusion, stands up and slowly begins to walk toward the fan, a murderous look in his eyes.
MM: Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you watching at home, this is something you should never, ever do. We here at EWA Entertainment cannot vouch for your safety when you choose to do something as foolhardy and stupid as stepping inside that ring. These are trained professionals, and —
VA: Kick his ass, Alex!
MM: That’s what’s going to happen, and I can’t say I’m all that upset over it. Where the hell is security?
But just as Malone says it, a handful of security officials start heading down the ramp, toward the ring. To the fan’s credit (or stupidity), he (or she) hasn’t moved, simply standing in the corner, head down. As Haven approaches, though, the fan suddenly looks up, removing the hood that’s disguising his face…
VA: WHAT THE HELL?!
MM: OH MY GOD!! IT’S CHRIS KAGE!! CHRIS KAGE IS HERE IN MEXICO CITY!!!!
The arena absolutely EXPLODES as they catch a glimpse of the former three-time EWA World Heavyweight Champion, a wild, maniacal look in his eyes. Haven backpedals so hard that he actually trips, falling on his rear, and scoots himself back into the opposite corner, palm extended outward toward Kage as the Incomparable One slowly approaches him.
MM: We haven’t heard from Chris Kage since Champions Summit II! We were told he was out of the business forever!
VA: Security! Get this man the hell out of here, now!
But security, seeing that the “fan” is actually a contracted talent, has left the ringside area! Haven pulls himself to his feet, still holding his hand out to ward Kage off, trying to talk his former best friend out of this. The crazed look in Kage’s eyes remains, and after a moment, Haven shrugs, and rushes his former friend, swinging wildly with a hard right. But Kage sidesteps, ducking the punch, and slips behind Haven…
MM: CRACKDOWN!! KAGE JUST HIT THE CRACKDOWN ON ALEXANDER HAVEN! AND LISTEN TO THIS PLACE!
VA: I can’t hear myself think, Malone!!
The crowd is at a frenzied pitch, and quickly begins a chant…
“THANK YOU KAGE!
THANK YOU KAGE!
THANK YOU KAGE!
THANK YOU KAGE!”
Kage screams down at Haven, the energy and adrenaline from the crowd’s reaction flowing through his veins, and turns around…directly into the face of Indrid Calder.
VA: Uh oh, Chris! You didn’t consider this one, did you?! Hahaha!
MM: There’s certainly no love lost between these two, after their epic encounter at Champions Summit II for the World Heavyweight Championship, and after Calder stalked Stacy Vandervort for months!
Kage and Calder remain face to face for a moment…until Calder steps around him, dropping to the mat and covering Haven! Referee Danny Smith slides into position, and Kage pumps his fist with each slap of the mat…
NR: Alexander Haven has been eliminated!
ALEXANDER HAVEN HAS BEEN ELIMINATED FROM THE ASYLUM (29:21)
MM: Chris Kage just cost his former best friend the EWA World Heavyweight Championship! What a moment!
VA: This is a disaster! Treasonous son of a bitch! Chris Kage, you’ll pay for this, and it’ll be with your head!
Kage, seeing that his work has been finished, delivers one hard stomp to the face of the prone Alexander Haven before vaulting over the top rope, nodding toward Grady Smith and Ray Willmott on the outside. The former champion slips through the cage, hopping the guardrail and heading through the crowd, celebrating with the Mexico City fans.
MM: And now we’re down to three!
Grady Smith slides in the ring, staring down Indrid Calder. The Stranger and the Legend circle one another, as the crowd begins a dueling chant…
“LET’S GO GRA-DY!
LET’S GO GRA-DY!
VA: I can’t believe some of these Mexican morons are actually chanting for Indrid Calder!
MM: Folks, this is history in the making right here at Battlelines 27, live from Mexico City! It’s Grady Smith and Indrid Calder!
Calder and Grady lock up in the center of the ring, and Grady overpowers the smaller Calder, forcing him back into the corner. Grady breaks, stepping backward and jogging in place, as Calder stares blankly at him, void of all emotion. The two move in to lock up once again, but this time Calder catches Grady with a thumb to the eye, and wails away on him before whipping him into the ropes, landing a vicious elbow directly to the throat. Grady collapses to the mat, grabbing at his throat and coughing, as Calder begins to size the legend up. But before he can, Ray Willmott slides back in under the ring, and hits a running forearm, sending Calder sprawling against the ropes. Willmott hooks Calder, hitting a swinging neckbreaker, and makes the cover!
Calder kicks out! Willmott grabs Calder, pulling him to his feet, and Grady Smith joins the fray with a big right hand to the face of Ray Willmott. Grady switches back and forth between Calder and Willmott, mixing in rights and lefts, before locking his arms around the World Heavyweight Champion and flinging him across the ring with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex! The crowd roars as he turns back toward Calder, and wraps his arms around the Stranger – but Calder, anticipating the same move Grady just executed, boxes the ears of the legend, breaking the hold. Calder hooks Grady, and delivers an impressive bridged Northern Lights suplex!
TH–GRADY KICKS OUT! But Calder immediately pops up, sprinting against the ropes and leaping in the air…
MM: FOR THE HORSEMAN!!
VA: Goodbye, old man!
But Calder doesn’t make the cover, as he spots Willmott getting to one knee. Calder immediately sprints toward Willmott, leaping in the air…but the champion sees him coming, and quickly ducks out of the way! Willmott spins around, grabbing Calder and racing toward the ropes before rolling backwards in a picturesque O’Connor Roll!
VA: He kicked out! Malone, he kicked out!
MM: But Danny Smith counted three first!
Indeed, Calder kicked out, but senior official Danny Smith points to Nikki Rogers, declaring the kickout occurred after the three count!
NR: Indrid Calder has been eliminated!
INDRID CALDER HAS BEEN ELIMINATED FROM THE ASYLUM (34:40)
MM: Unbelievable! And folks, if looks could kill, Danny Smith would be a dead man at the hands of the Stranger right now!
Calder finally breaks his thousand yard stare at Calder, hopping over the top rope and leaving through the cage door. Grady Smith gets to his feet, still holding his head from the impact of Calder’s For The Horseman…and stares across the ring at the reigning champion. The crowd begins to buzz as everyone comes to the realization that one of these two legendary figures in professional wrestling will exit the Asylum tonight as the EWA World Heavyweight Champion.
MM: Here we go, folks! It’s Grady Smith and Ray Willmott!
VA: I hate this, Malone! I don’t want either of these two to win!
Grady and Willmott stare out at the crowd, and then head toward one another, exchanging words. The two veterans stand face to face, the camera unable to pick up the words they’re exchanging…but then suddenly Grady extends a hand out to Willmott…and Willmott shakes it!
MM: What a tremendous show of respect between these two veterans!
VA: I’m going to be sick.
Grady and Willmott head back to their corners, each taking a moment to prepare themselves, and then approach one another, locking up in the center of the ring. Willmott slaps on a side headlock, which Grady quickly counters by shoving the champion into the ropes. Grady takes Willmott down with a hard shoulderblock, showcasing the size difference between the final two Asylum combatants.
VA: Malone, if Ray Willmott’s going to retain the championship here, he has to take to the skies. When you’re in there with, as much as it hurts to say, a technical master such as Grady Smith, you’re not going to win that game. He needs to get creative here tonight.
MM: Did…did you just offer actual analysis?
VA: I did. I can offer more, too. That woman in the white tanktop in the front row? Those are totally fake.
Grady picks Willmott up off the mat, but Willmott immediately fires off a series of lefts, before racing toward the ropes. However, on the rebound, Grady catches him, planting him with a spinebuster and popping back up. The legend grabs Willmott, dragging him off the mat and lifting him up on his shoulders!
MM: He’s going for the Chokebuster!
VA: Willmott slipped out!
Indeed, Willmott was able to slide off of Grady’s shoulders, landing behind him. Willmott grabs Grady’s neck, going for Echoes in Eternity, but Grady throws a swift elbow, breaking the hold. Grady shoves Ray chest first into the turnbuckle, and the force of Willmott’s impact sends him staggering backwards into the clutches of Grady, who grabs Willmott’s head in a three-quarters facelock.
VA: Malone! Do you know what that is?!
MM: I think Grady Smith is going for the running sitout shiranui he calls Dead Wrong – we haven’t seen that in over a decade!
Indeed, Grady races toward the corner, running up the turnbuckle and flipping over Willmott, going for the stiout inverted facelock slam to complete the move. However, Willmott’s able to break free of the facelock as Grady flips over, and Grady lands on his stomach! Grady springs to his feet, holding his chest, but Willmott races toward him, leaping in the air as he grabs Grady by the head, spinning around, and nailing a Tornado DDT!
MM: ULTIMATIUM!! THE ULTIMATIUM! RAY HIT IT! HE HIT IT!
VA: But can he cover him?
He can, indeed – Willmott scrambles over, and hooks Grady’s leg! The crowd chants along with Danny Smith’s count!
NO!! NO GRADY GOT A FOOT ON THE ROPE AND DANNY SMITH SAW IT JUST IN TIME!!
VA: Are you kidding me? It’s the freaking Asylum, Malone!
MM: It doesn’t matter, Vince! The Asylum is designed to keep people from getting involved in the match – rope breaks still apply inside!
VA: A lot of good it did tonight. First Kharrion and Mephisto, then that idiot Chris Kage. Alexander Haven should be the EWA World Champion! He was screwed! SCREWED!
MM: Be that as it may, Grady Smith is still alive here tonight!
Willmott, shaking his head in disbelief, is clearly wondering what he has to do to take out Grady Smith here tonight. The answer comes to him, as he quickly vaults over the top rope to the ring apron on the outside, and begins climbing to the top.
VA: Oh boy, Malone. I know what this is. He’s going for that 450 splash into a legdrop!
MM: Could we see Elegance tonight, ladies and gentlemen, in front of 18,000 screaming Mexico City EWA fans?
Willmott takes a deep breath, leaping off the top rope with an incredible display of athleticism as he goes for Elegance…
AND CONNECTS WITH THE MAT, AS GRADY SMITH ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY! Grady pulls himself to his feet, crouching, waiting for Willmott to get up. Willmott finally gets to his feet, turning around just as Grady Smith lifts him onto his shoulders for the Chokebuster….
…but Willmott floats over, and grabs Grady from behind, going for Echoes in Eternity….
…but Grady blocks THAT, and lifts Willmott back up on his shoulders…..
MM: CHOKEBUSTER! CHOKEBUSTER! GRADY HIT IT! GRADY SMITH HIT THE CHOKEBUSTER!!! HERE’S THE COVER!!!
MM: OH MY GOD HE DID IT!!
NR: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of Asylum de los Muertos…and…NEWWWWWWW….EWA World Heavyweight Champion…GRADY….SMITH!!!!
VA: I can’t believe it, Malone! Grady Smith is an eleven time World Heavyweight Champion!!
Grady Smith collapses to the mat in exhaustion, holding a fist high in the air…and a moment later, Danny Smith brings the EWA World Heavyweight Championship over to him.
MM: This place is going crazy!
Grady Smith, after a few moments, slowly gets to his feet, shaking his head almost in disbelief before climbing to the top rope, and hoisting the World Heavyweight Championship up high for the world to see. The crowd explodes again, as Grady hops back off the turnbuckle…and turns around to see Ray Willmott standing there, hands on his hips.
VA: Yes! Get him, Ray! Make him pay for rubbing this in your face! Take his old ass out!
Willmott, breathing heavily, shakes his head, chuckling, and extends a hand. Grady Smith smiles, and grabs it, pulling the British phenom in for a hug as ‘Dogs of War’ continues to blast through Arena Mexico. Willmott pats Grady on the shoulder before making a graceful exit, giving the stage to Grady Smith – the eleven time World Heavyweight Champion.
VA: Malone! Look!
As Willmott passes through the curtain, none other than Martin Robertson steps out onto the entrance ramp, seething, his face a twisted distortion of anger. He glares down at the celebrating Grady, who doesn’t see his son at the entrance ramp, watching the every move of the new champion. Martin, breathing heavily and clearly furious, shakes his head before storming back through the curtain, having gone unnoticed by Grady and the majority of the audience, celebrating the huge victory.
MM: Ladies and gentlemen…for the first time in nearly 14 years…Grady Smith is the Heavyweight Champion of the world! For Terry Bull, Allison Haines and Vincent Ashe, I’m Mike Malone. We’ll see you in two weeks at Battlelines 28!
Our final shot is of Grady Smith, having strapped the championship around his waist, smiling and pointing out to the crowd as the broken and battered Asylum structure is slowly lifted back to the rafters.
Fade to black.
YOUR WINNER, AND NEW EWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION: GRADY SMITH (38:31)
EWA Wrestling – a Division of EWA Entertainment
This event may not be rebroadcast without the expressed written consent of EWA Entertainment.
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Josh Kaine vs Azrael Goeren – Joyce McGuire
Martin Robertson vs Tyler Morris – Chris Furman
Maggie/Natalie vs Draven/Sahara – Harlan Heubaum
Vice Squad vs Lucy Blaylock – Will Santa
Kharrion vs The Fallout – Andy Crow
Sean Boden vs Lunatikk Crippler – Sean Boden
Jacob Mephisto vs Hank – Tim Reeves
The Asylum – Gates