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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:37:43 GMT -5
ACW Proudly Presents: Samhain 2009
Saturday 31st October
Schedule of Matches:
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TLC Match Loser Leaves ACW Match Jimmy Winner vs. Red Panther
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Ladder Match ACW Entertainment Title Match VorteX vs. Mystery Opponent
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Mystery Stipulation Jonny Spade vs. High Roller
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ACW International Title Re-match Dave Shadow vs. Chris Phenomenal
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ACW World Championship Match Dan White vs. Jack Jefferson
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:41:11 GMT -5
Opening OTA Segment: The Prelude (Credit: Senator)
Sometimes the past has a nasty habit of impacting the present just when you least expect it.
A few hours before the beginning of Samhain, a large limo rolls into the ACW Arena's ample parking lot, unloading three familar faces to fans of the company. Senator Steve Phillips, Anthony Kalb, and Kevin Fitsharris all depart from the vehicle, Phillips carrying a large briefcase which is quickly transferred to Fitsharris, while Kalb hefts a laptop under his arm.
The Senator: Get moving, I want to have a little time before the masses show up so I can get some work done, stretch out and do so in relative peace and quiet.
Fitsharris: Yeah sure, if you say so, sir, can do, will do, I'm on the job, and the job will be done!
Kalb: Shoot, Fitsy, you have to be so annoying? I have half a mind to bash you over the friggin head with this computer!
Senator: Both of you, cut it out!
Suddenly, as the trio reaches the door to the interior of the Arena, two suit attired individuals walk out. One of the two, a nondescript man with short cropped black hair seems to be carrying a manila envelope, while the other, a blond woman of medium height, and her hair in a ponytail carries a semi-auto pistol in clear sight.
Senator: From the looks of that Sig Sauer special, and the sunglasses it seems that you two are likely here on official business from the government, or am I mistaken?
??: You can call me Brad Kestler and this is my partner Angelina Thomas.
Fitsharris: *snicker* Brangelina...hehe
Kalb: *whispering* Shut up, you want her to fill you up with lead?
Fitsharris: *whispering less quietly* No, but I could fill her up with a few drinks, if you know what I mean.
Kestler: You two should go off and mind your own business, we have dealings with your boss.
Senator: Wait just a minute now, if anyone orders those two around, it will be I!
Thomas: This doesn't concern them, just you.
Senator: I really do not like being bullied at the end of a gun.
Thomas: Sorry, but these premises are hardly secure. This is not here to intimidate you or your people.
Senator: Very well then, if you have business to discuss, we can do so in my office.
Kestler: No, it must be done here.
Senator: Fine, Fitsharris, Kalb, go take my stuff into my office, get things set up, I WILL be following you shortly, and this had better be good.
The Capitalists go into the Arena complex, leaving Phillips with the two "agents."
Senator Fine, now who the heck are you two, which agency do you come from? That sidearm and the glasses scream "Secret Service," but the demeanor and the clothing suggests that you collect your paychecks elsewhere.
Thomas: We are here on behalf of an entity you once served under.
Kestler: The Committee on Foreign and Domestic Operations, to be specific.
Senator: That? Com-Fado? You can hardly be serious...this has to be a monumental joke, that organization was disbanded eons ago, and the only mentions of it in the public eye are those of ridiculous conspiracy rumors!
Thomas: Nevertheless, we must serve this subpoena to you...
Senator: Under which authority?
Kestler: Federal.
Senator: Vague enough?
Thomas: Take the envelope, if you refuse it, you will regret it.
Kestler: And you would hardly want something on the level of Blackthorne to go public, would you?
And at that moment, the Senator's already incredulous expression shifts to that of sheer horror.
Thomas: Just take the envelope, and show up when and where you are requested, ok?
Senator: ...
Phillips reluctantly takes the manila envelope in his hand and turns towards the door.
Kestler: Just to be clear, we will contact you shortly, and we expect you to be ready when we do.
Thomas: Goodbye.
With that, the "federal agents" depart from the scene as the Senator enters the Arena, as confounded as he has ever been in his life. What developments could possibly be in store for the politician? What surprises await him in the future? Only time will tell.
Fade Out.
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:42:08 GMT -5
3rd January 2005 Family Matters (A Cordelia Flashback)
A shot is transmitted from backstage, projected onto the huge screen above the ACW entrance. The image is a delightful one as the figure of a female member of the ACW roster is walking toward the camera. The translucent black body suit tightly hugs a slender figure at the waist and the mysterious’ woman’s voluptuous breasts peak over the top of the suit. The camera pans out to reveal the pretty, yet choleric face which belongs to Cordelia. This image urges a lot of heat from the witnessing fans, the boos echo through the halls of the arena.
Cordelia, unlike usual, is walking alone. She walks insidiously, turning her head to glance at the people she passes. She turns a corner and only takes a few more steps before grinding to a halt. She looks at something before her and raises her eyebrows.
Cordelia: Oh Steve!
As she utters this, the camera turns to point at Steve, who turns to look behind him at the voice which beckoned him. A smile that was on his face originally suddenly turns to a nervous frown as Cordelia approaches him. He obviously has full recollection of their first meeting. He checks over her shoulder, expecting her to be accompanied by someone before training his eyes onto hers.
Steve (gingerly): Um…hi…can I do anything for you?
Cordelia: Aww, you’re so helpful Steve. Anyway, I was wondering if you had any idea whether or not my guest had arrived?
Steve is taken aback by Cordelia’s unusual charm.
Steve: Oh…well there was one guy who was looking for directions to your room…I didn’t know who he was so I only pointed him in the general direction, just in case.
He checks Cordelias’ eyes, hoping he has done the right thing. She gives him a smile, showing her glistening white teeth.
Cordelia: Thank you Steve, I’ll find him myself.
Cordelia passes Steve and continues down the hall as Steve expels a sigh of relief. The camera follows Cordelia once more. She turns another corner before stopping in her tracks again. The shot turns to face down the hall, in the direction that Cordelia is looking. There are two people; one is Gary, wearing a brace around his poor neck. He is talking to a dark haired man who has his back to the shot. Cordelia calls out to them along the corridor as she approaches.
Cordelia: Welcome to my world!
The man turns around to face Cordelia and smirks. Upon studying his facial features he looks slightly similar to Cordelia, although, understandably, not as feminine. She approaches him then proceeds to sling her arms around his neck. He embraces her and grips her tight around her waist.
Cordelia: Glad you could make it!
Man: Thanks, it’s good to see you again sis.
His statement clarifies things for the witnesses. All except Gary it seems, who watches on in total bemusement. Cordelia turns to Gary, and he stumbles back a bit in shock.
Cordelia: Oh sorry, Gary, this is Christopher, my brother. Chris, this is Gary. Gary suffered a minor injury last week during a match I’m sorry to say.
Cordelia’s innocent tone obviously doesn’t wash with her own kin.
Chris: Yes, I understand that it was your man that was responsible for it too. Some sort of new manoeuvre that he used…caught Gary here off guard.
Cordelia takes a second to think, casting her mind back while murmuring. She finally explains.
Cordelia: Ahh yes, that move that Torak likes to call Fortune’s Wheel. Quite appropriate I feel.
Chris: Quite. (He pauses). Gary even claimed that if not for that move that he would have beaten Torak.
Gary suddenly looks nervous. He loosens his collar and a flushed look envelopes his face. Cordelia looks quizzically at Gary.
Cordelia: Oh really?
Gary: I just remembered, I have to be…somewhere. See ya!
And with that, Gary shoots off down the hall and the siblings observe him as he trots off. There is a bit of silence and they turn to each other and give each other a peculiar look. The silence is soon broken by Christopher.
Chris: So, where is your stallion now then? Obliterating poor innocent souls? You know, like usual.
Cordelia chuckles.
Cordelia: No, quite the opposite in fact. He’s actually gone to help the cause out in Sri Lanka, Thailand, Indonesia and such. You see while everybody else pretends to care, like those idiots out there, by observing minute silences and donating small pots of money, my Jack is actually doing something to help.
Chris: I see. So, is that why you invited me here, to keep you company?
The question is jokingly asked, he does not expect an answer.
Cordelia: Actually in all honesty, yes. You see, there are a lot of people here who don’t exactly consider me their best friend. I fear for my safety here, so I figured I needed someone who I could trust to make sure I don’t come to any harm. There isn’t anyone I trust more than my brother.
He smiles and rubs her shoulder, understandingly.
Chris: Hey, do you have any seats around here, my back isn’t as healthy as it used to be y’know. All those hardcore bouts, especially with Cyda and your man too, I need to rest my derriere somewhere, ease my back a bit.
His request brings a light smile from his sister. She looks at a door to her right and looks at the number on the door.
Cordelia: Oh, this is my room right here. Come on in, don’t bother wiping your feet, Steve will clean the floor later.
Her comment brings a chuckle from her brother as she pushes the door open. They enter into a very well decorated room. Tinsel is draped over a shelf, above which, a picture of Cordelia and Torak is hung, with Cordelia holding a rose in her right hand.
Chris (sarcastically): Nice. I take it Jack didn’t decorate this place.
Cordelia grins.
Cordelia: Of course not! You know how I used to love decorating the home at Christmas time. Unfortunately, we weren’t here for Christmas so I put them up early and haven’t had a chance to take them down.
Chris plops himself down onto a very expensive leather couch.
Chris: Nice settee. Reminds me of the one we used to have at home.
Cordelia: Yeah. I chose it especially.
Cordelia takes a seat next to her brother and leans over to the small table in front of them where some wine glasses and a bottle of wine are situated. She opens the bottle and pours two glasses before placing the bottle back down. She lifts the two glasses and hands one to her brother before sitting back, leaning against the back of the couch. She rests her head in her hands and stares at her brother.
Cordelia: Hey, I just had an amazing idea, how about you sign for ACW and team with Torak? Imagine that, Torak and Christopher LaBlanc, a tag team to be reckoned with. You two would…
She stops mid-sentence as she notices his reaction. He sighs and rubs his chin thoughtfully.
Cordelia (in a more concerned tone): What’s wrong?
He takes a deep breath and looks her in the eyes.
Chris: I can’t wrestle anymore…the doctors told me that if I were to take too much damage on my back I could become paralysed. So, I’ve had to give it up. Still, at 36 I had a good innings, put the right people over and I don’t think I did anything to embarrass our family. . . embarrass Dad.
His last statement makes Cordelia think. She takes another sip of her wine and glides her fingers through her hair.
Cordelia: Well, that’s too bad. I mean, ACW could have done with somebody like you. . . you know. . . a talented wrestler.
Cordelia chuckles and her brother joins her.
Chris: You know, I think I’m starting to understand why people here aren’t your friends.
Cordelia shrugs it off and takes another sip of wine.
Cordelia: Yeah, well. . . they deserve it. . . anyway, who needs friends when you have a fiancé like Jack?
She holds up her engagement ring to show Christopher who looks impressed by the solid rock. He gives a smile of content then downs his wine in one gulp before planting the glass on the table.
Chris: I worry about you though, you’re my little sis. . .
Cordelia (cutting him off): Oh, don’t worry about me. . . I’m fine.
Chris: But still, I still worry.
His tone is more serious now.
Chris: I’m the one who brought you into this business and so I’m responsible for anything that happens to you. I mean, what will you do if next time Jack isn’t here and I’m not available?
Cordelia finishes off her glass and shakes her head. She goes to pour another glass.
Cordelia: Then I’ll call Cyda. Or Dave. Or HK. . .or Frost…
She stops for a moment to ponder.
Cordelia: On second thoughts, maybe not Frost. Spending time with him is like spending time with an eighty-year old manic depressive.
Christopher watches as his sister pours more wine. He lets out a slight chuckle as his thoughts collect. Cordelia rests back and looks at him. Bemused she enquires. . .
Cordelia: What?
His eyes light up and he leans forward.
Chris: I just had a great idea.
Cordelia continues to look at him, curious but silent.
Chris: How about you learn to wrestle?
She blurts out a laugh, almost spilling her wine in the process. She drinks a mouthful of wine this time then places the glass safely on the desk.
Cordelia: Don’t be ridiculous. I could never wrestle.
Chris ignores the rebuke, not allowing his idea to be shot down so easily he protests.
Chris: Hear me out, I mean, you’ve definitely got that aggressive streak. Remember when you threw Cousin Christine through that door?
Cordelia: She deserved it, she took something that belonged to me. . . something special!
Chris gives her an indescribable look.
Chris: Cordy. . . it was a doll. . . and you were both only six years old.
Cordelia shrugs and takes another sip of wine.
Chris: Mother was devastated. . . she loved that door. Also, you have the brains. You could outweigh all the competition on IQ alone, nobody would stand a chance.
Cordelia nods in agreement, not ashamed to admit her lack of modesty when it comes to her intelligence.
Chris: Plus. . .just think who your mentors would be. Me, for one. I’m sure Jack would also lend some advice. Not to mention Cyda and his years of experience. Consider it darling. . . you love this business, why not get involved in the best aspect of it?
Cordelia finishes off her wine and without a word, refills both their glasses. She lifts the glass and takes a sip as her brother watches on.
Chris: So. . . is that your New Year’s Resolution? To get in that ring competitively?
Cordelia studies her glass, made from gleaming crystal.
Cordelia: Maybe.
Chris: With the advice of Jack, Cyda and I you’d be prepared to take on anyone, whether it be. . . Rena. . . Atomic Kitsune. . . or that other woman. . . uh. . .
Chris takes a moment to think. Cordelia smiles.
Cordelia: Amo?
This brings a chortle from Chris and Cordelia smiles as she rubs the glass with her thumb.
Chris: Yeah, sure.
He drinks his wine in one gulp again then picks up the bottle and refills his glass. He also refills what Cordelia had already drunk.
Chris: How about we get drunk?
Cordelia: Sure, just like that time we hid in the basement with Mother and Father’s vodka.
Cordelia chuckles. Chris is not quite so amused though.
Chris: Hey, you can laugh, I was the oldest, I got the blame for misleading you.
This only makes Cordelia laugh more. Eventually he joins in. The scene ends on this halcyon note.
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:43:01 GMT -5
Segment: Kill or Cure? (Credit: Dave Shadow / AK)
Saturday Evening
Even though the show has barely begun, Dave Shadow’s nerve endings are already tingling. On paper, tonight’s an important night – he has his re-match try and reclaim his ACW International Title. In reality, it’s so much more than that.
The arena is the only place he can feel comfortable today. He knows well that he needs to take a sensible approach, not to over-exert himself. And yet still he circles the punching bag in the gym, throwing jab upon jab, then a few swift kicks. Tonight, he’s going to make sure that the man responsible for all his woes of late gets exactly what’s coming to him...
??: Nice shot.
Dave turns around to see Alicia Laureano leaning against the doorframe.
Alicia: I thought I might see you here. How’s it going?
Dave keeps working away with just a glance in her direction. He seems distant.
Dave: I’m trying to get into the right mindset.
Alicia nods.
Alicia: Of course. Don’t mind me, I won’t disturb you.
She pushes forward to a standing position, making eye contact with Dave for a fraction of a second before turning away. The expression on her face is odd – it’s a sort of resignation. Dave holds up a hand.
Dave: You in that much of a hurry to get away?
There’s just a hint of sharpness in his voice. Alicia turns back into the room, one hand on her hip.
Alicia: Not especially.
She knows that she owes Shadow an explanation for her lack of contact since Chris Phenomenal was revealed as the mystery attacker. There is a brief pause before she speaks.
Alicia: Dave, we’ve disagreed on a lot of things, and I think Phenomenal is going to be another of them. I don’t blame you in the slightest for being furious. But I can’t follow you down this particular path. I told you over the phone a couple of weeks back... Chris needs help, not a tit-for-tat beating. I won’t stand in your way or try to change your mind, but neither will I condone your choice of actions. There’s little else I can do for you right now except maintain a respectful distance.
Shadow grunts with exertion.
Dave: Ok. So why are you here then tonight?
Alicia: I have other business this evening, Ginger asked me to drop by. But I do have one other thing I wanted to say, because of the respect I have for what you’ve achieved so far in ACW. You appear to have forgotten the primary purpose of your match this evening. Not a good strategy, in my view.
Shadow finally stops his circling, catching the bag to bring it to a halt.
Dave: I don’t see a problem. I go to the match, I beat Chris Phenomenal to a pulp, and retrieve my title at the same time.
Alicia: Yes, in theory. In reality, Phenomenal has a massive advantage over you, as evidenced by the fact that you’re clearly fixated on revenge above all else, including that title belt. In certain situations anger makes people powerful... in others it just makes them impulsive and easier to manipulate.
Shadow smirks a little, and shakes his head.
Dave: In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve had more than my fair share of turmoil to deal with these last few months. It’s not been a problem before and the last thing I will do is let it hamper me now. Nothing is going to stop me from beating the living daylights out of Chris. Not Senator. Not any of his lackeys. Chris has made it clear he has no regrets – so neither do I.
Alicia: You see, that there is what I’m talking about. That is a wrestling ring out there, Dave, not the coliseum.
She sighs.
Alicia: Look, Dave... I’m not here to lecture you. I’m just worried that you’re underestimating what you’re going up against here. Chris may not have Senator at his side tonight, and heaven knows the pair of them had to throw everything at you including the kitchen sink to take the title from you in the first place. But now it’s different. Phenomenal doesn’t need to rip you to pieces; all he needs is that 3 count, and maybe not even that if he decides to play dirty. I’d hate to see you lose your last chance to continue a bloody good title reign, that’s all.
Shadow frowns.
Dave: Wow, Alicia. Thanks for that overwhelming vote of confidence. Not I know I can beat him....
Alicia: Sorry Dave, I don’t deal in comforting platitudes.
She pushes her hair back out of her face.
Alicia: At some point, you’re going to reach a crossroads. Chris is learning his trade fast from Senator; everything he’s done to this point has been designed to de-stabilise you, upset you, goad you into making mistakes so that you give him a trade-off of his choosing. But no one’s perfect, and if you fight the way I know you can, you can rise above all the bullshit, and take your future firmly back into your own hands. That’s the point at which it gets difficult.
Dave looks at her for a second, then away. The room is very still.
Dave: ......I can take care of myself Alicia. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get back to training.
Alicia: As you wish.
She gives Dave a brief smile, though her eyes look a little sad.
Alicia: If I find out anything that might help you, I’ll let you know. Good luck for tonight Dave, I think you’re sorely going to need it.
She turns and walks out, leaving Dave once again on his own. After a few seconds, Dave returns silently to his preparations. He has to do this his way... or not at all.
Fade.
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:45:01 GMT -5
Saved for soon-to-be-added Yoko work
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:46:35 GMT -5
Match 1: TLC Match Loser Leaves ACW Match Jimmy Winner vs. Red Panther (Credit: Panther)
The ring is set out for our first contest. Suspended above the ring is a briefcase containing a pink slip which will be given to the loser, ending there ACW stay forever. The ring is set up for a TLC match, a ladder in one corner, three chairs in the ring, a set up table on the side of the ring away from the ramp. To the left of the ring are four tables stacked 2X2, to the right two tables with a chair on top each. at ringside nearest the announce tables are three stacked ladders and two chairs.
Edison: As you can all see, the ring is all set up for our first contest, a loser leaves ACW TLC match between The Red Panther and Jimmy Winner. Jimmy Winner has only wrestled twice in ACW, a win in his debut and a TKO draw against The Red Panther in an MMA match.
Maxwell: But don't underestimate him, Winner has wrestled in Japan, Mexico, Canada and all over the US.
"Roots, Bloody Roots" plays and The Red Panther makes his way through the smoke, wearing his normal attire. He walks down to the ring confidently, does a shuroken on the ramp and then roles in, followed by the pumpkins eyes. The fans boo Panther, who simply stretches for what may be the last time.
"We Are the Champions" plays and Jimmy Winner comes out, tonight wearing a Mike Myers mask and holding a large bucket. Winner throws some candy from the bucket into the crowd before walking down the isle and putting candy into the outstretched hands of the fans. Jimmy gets onto the apron, throws the rest of the candy into the crowd and climbs in. Winner adjusts his mask and goes towards the ropes.
Philips: This match is scheduled for one fall and is a tables, ladders and chairs match. The loser of this match will be fired from ACW on the spot forever.
Maxwell: Two months of anger has ran up to this point, and it's double or nothing now.
DING DING DING!
Both men run in, punching each other. Winner gets the upper hand first by kneeing Panther in the ribs, knocking him back. Winner then grabs Panther by the head and slams his heads into the table, causing him to stumble back. Winner chops Panther across the chest twice and then hits him with an STO. Winner then grabs the ladder out of the corner and sets it up, trying for an early victory. Winner starts climbing the ladder, but after just a few steps is pulled down by Winner, who follows up with a drop toe hold. Panther stands and begins to stomp Winners arm repeatedly, about five times, and then drops an elbow across his back. Panther takes down the ladder and drops it to the mat before lifting Winner and putting him in a head lock. Panther moves towards the ladder as though to bulldog Winner over it, but Winner quickly turns and backdrops Panther right over the ladder with a sickening thud. Panther sits up holding his back while Winner pumps up the crowd, beckoning them to make noise.
Maxwell: That backdrop was destructive, and we are only just starting up tonight!
Edison: And that was just the start, I doubt we are finished by a long shot.
Both men stand up, Winner with his back to the ropes. Seeing this Panther runs in and clotheslines Jimmy over onto the floor. Panther slides out and looks at the weapons available, two tables and two chairs. Panther grabs Jimmy and tosses him into the ring steps before picking up one of the chairs. Panther bangs the chair on the apron until Jimmy stands up and turns right into a chair shot to the ribs. Winner falls sideways, leaning on the apron and opening himself up to a second chair shot to the ribs. This time Winner drops to the floor, the crowd booing. Panther reaches down and pulls off Winners Halloween mask which he follows up by slamming the chair right into Winners face. Panther then sets up the chair, three quarters of the distance away from the barricade. He then folds up one of the tables, lifts it and sets it up so it is on the barricade and on the chair (if that makes sense). The chair is lower then the barricade, causing the table to be on a 30-45 degrees angle. Panther turns and lifts Winner to his feet before rolling him onto the apron.
Maxwell: Seems as though Panther has something planned.
Edison: Winner best formulate an idea quickly or he could be taken straight out of this match.
Panther climbs onto the apron as well and lifts Winner up to his feet, but receives an uppercut to the gut. Winner then pushes Panther, causing him to land across the table horizontally. Winner then dives off and crashes both men through the table with the Home Run! (Senton bomb). The fans cheer as the two lay there for about twenty seconds. Winner is up first and straight away rolls in and starts setting up the ladder. Panther follows seconds later with the chair which he slams across Jimmy’s back again. Panther tosses away the chair before lifting Jimmy up and tossing him between the top and second rope in the corner, slamming his shoulder into the steel ring post. Jimmy recoils and swears loudly while Panther takes down the ladder for use as a weapon. Jimmy turns as Panther goes to slam the ladder into his face, swinging it sideways over his arm so the end flies at Winner. In a brilliant display of agility Winner leans back, landing on his palms to balance himself like Neo from the Matrix!
Maxwell: Jimmy dodged a bullet with that brilliant dodge!
Edison: Outstanding dodge!
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:48:03 GMT -5
The ladder slams into the steel post with a deafening ping while Winner straightens up. Panther turns around and slams the ladder into Winner, who doesn't have a dodge this time, laying him out. Panther sets up the ladder and begins climbing it while Winner lays on the mat, motionless. However the ladder is not under the suitcase and it appears Panther has another plan. As Jimmy lays motionless Panther gets to the top of the ladder, looks down at Jimmy, and then dives off, planting his elbow straight into Jimmy’s chest. Both men stay down for a while, Joey Reynolds checks them both a few times and they both appear to be able to continue on. At last they both start getting up, looking hurt and tired. They begin trading punches again, moving towards the ring ropes parallel to the ramp. Winner backs Panther into the ropes and sends him flying down to the floor with a dropkick. Winner follows onto the floor, grabs Panther by the leg and drags him up the ramp, to the amusement of the crowd.
Edison: It seems Winner wants to fight on the stage near our Samhain set, which I must say looks amazing.
Maxwell: This may work out, if he drops Panther up here he will have a lot of time to grab the case.
Half way up the ramp Panther flails his free leg, nailing Winner is the face. Panther gets to his face and boots Winner into the steel barricade, causing Panther to bounce off and land face down in a heap. Panther jumps onto Winner and punches him in the face, alternating left and right with heavy fists. After a while Jimmy’s face is red and bleeding, a fresh trickle rolling down from above his eye. Panther then stands, grabs Winner by the hair and drags him down the ramp back to the ring. Panther tosses Winner over the barricade and then rolls in the ring, leaving a bloody Winner in the front row. Winner moves the ladder slightly more central and then starts to climb. Panther gets halfway up the ladder before Winner hops back up and jumps out of the crowd and into the ring. Being on the left side, Winner cannot be seen by Panther, who begins to reach for the case. Winner makes good time up the ladder, getting to the top quickly. Winner begins punching Panther, stopping him from getting the case. Panther stops going for the case and head buts Winner right in the nose, bloodying his face. Panther pulls Winner up with him, ducks his head under Winners arm and hooks his leg.
Edison: NO! HE CAN'T BE THINKING OF THIS!
Panther falls back, both men flying over the ropes as Panther drives Winner through the four stacked tables with the Barrett .50 cal (Leg hook northern lights suplex) from the ladder!
Maxwell: DANGEROUSSSS!!!!
For over a minute both men lay still, no movement whatsoever. The fans are silent, unsure if either man will be able to get the case. Refs spill down and make sure they are both OK. As they are checking Winner, Panther slowly stands and climbs into the ring. Walking to the ladder Panther repeatedly stumbles and drops to one knee, but he gets on the ladder. The fans start to boo and yell at Winner to get up, to no avail. At long last Panther gets to the top of the ladder and reaches up, pulling the case down and colapsing to the mat.
Winner: The Red Panther!
The fans boo like crazy as Winner is put on a stretcher, unconscious and not moving. As he is taken up the ramp, Panther stumbles after him, opening the case. Panther takes out the pink slip and stuffs it down the throat of Jimmy Winner as "Roots, Bloody Roots" plays. Winner is taken out through the smoke of the pumpkin, leaving ACW forever as we fade.
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:49:23 GMT -5
Looking for an Opponent [/color] Credit: VorteX[/center] The scene fades in to Chairman Gingerdude’s office, where he can be seen shuffling papers around his desk. The clock tick away in the corner, and it was just mere minutes before the Pay Per View would officially start. As seconds tick into the past, Gingerdude continues shuffling his papers, reading the various matches on the card for this evening, when he suddenly stops and looks at one in particular. Gingerdude knew that Vortex had been complaining for months about not having a match at a PPV, and he had made a match for Vortex tonight, although Vortex did not know this. The card had been labeled Vortex vs. ‘Mystery Opponent’, and that is exactly the way Gingerdude wanted it to stay…as he had not yet figured out who the opponent was. For a little fun, Gingerdude had one of his secretaries call Vortex down for a little chat.
Gingerdude did not have to wait very long, for there was a sudden knock at the door and then Vortex came strolling through. Gingerdude looks up from his paperwork and smiles at Vortex, who adjusts his Entertainment Championship belt and sits down. Gingerdude: Vortex, how are you this evening? Vortex: I don’t know, you tell me. Gingerdude laughs and sits back in his chair.Gingerdude: I have heard your complaints over the past few months, and I have decided to book you in a match tonight. Vortex’s eyes light up and he leans forward a little.Vortex: That’s great. Gingerdude: There’s only one catch…you’ll be facing a mystery opponent… Vortex: I don’t mind. Gingerdude: …for your belt. Vortex’s eyes widen a little and he sits back in his chair with a pondering look on his face. Vortex: This is ironic. I defeated two people on Wednesday with the intent that I wouldn’t have to defend my belt…and here we are. Gingerdude: You said you wanted to be a fighting champion. Vortex: I do…it’s just that I like to know who my opponent is before I face them, so I can break them down. Gignerdude: This way is far more Entertaining…don’t you agree? Vortex: Oh, I’m sure it will be. I do have one question though. Since I’m defending my belt…on a Pay Per View…Gingerdude: You want your ladder match. Vortex: I have been hyping it for the past month, so yes. Gingerdude leans forward in his seat and scribbles on a piece of paper in front of him. He flips it over to Vortex, who reads it.Gingerdude: That’s your match contract. All I need is your signature, and we’ll be ready for our little mystery Ladder match. Vortex giggles like a schoolgirl and scribbles his name on the paper.Vortex: Oh…I CAN’T WAIT! Gingerdude looks a little perplexed as Vortex begins spinning in his chair, holding his belt as if it were a million dollars.Gingerdude: Alright then. I suggest you go ready yourself for the match. I must warn you though, this mystery opponent could be anyone… Vortex suddenly stops spinning and looks at Gingerdude.Vortex: Hunter? Gingerdude: Anyone…employed by ACW… Vortex: Torak? Gingerdude: That’s not dead… Vortex: Jimmy Winner? Gingerdude: And not currently booked for a match…. Gingerdude was on to Vortex’s slightly odd version of ‘narrow down my opponent choices’, and put a hand up to silence Vortex before he could ask another question. Vortex stands and begins to leave, but before doing so he turns around…Vortex: What if I get shot…or run over by a car…or a plane falls on me…or I get abducted by ET…Gingerdude: JUST GO! Vortex says no more, turns, and skips out of the room, closing the door behind him. Gingerdude simply shakes his head and wonders how ACW stays in business with so many loons running around.
Fade.
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:50:49 GMT -5
ENTER THE SLAYER Draven Rook Like the classic intro to “Girls Girls Girls” by Motley Crue, a bikes revving engine is heard in the parking lot backstage but nothing can be seen until finally a group of three roll into view on motorcycles. The trio, on Harley Fatboy’s roll into view. Stopping to pull up, the three disembark from the bike. The two other guys shake hands with the bald-headed leader before he heads into the backstage section. This man is a badass, no doubt but what is his name? His name is Johnny Slayer and he’s here to raise hell in ACW! When does he start? Immediately, by verbally assaulting some interns!Johnny Slayer: “What’s up, bitches?!” Intern: “Not a lot man, just doing some paperwork. You?” Johnny Slayer: “Not much, just here to kick ass and take NAMES boy! Who the fuck are you talking to? You’re a NOBODY!” Intern: “Um, okay?” Johnny Slayer: “How about you okay THIS, yes man?!” WHAM! Straight in the face with a right hand, this man who hasn’t had the graces to even introduce himself lays out cold an intern with a single shot. He carries on like nothing has even happened as he looks to cause some more carnage.Johnny Slayer: “Where are all the fine bitches at around here?! I WANT A TITLE SHOT, FUCKAAAA! I want a match, RIGHT NOW!” The loud-mouthed, baldy-headed biker seems to have many intentions but a superstar should have a focus and he quickly finds his when he spots a particularly attractive, leather-clad green haired individual leaning against a wall with a cigarette pressed between her lips nonchalantly smoking, minding her own. “Paydirt” crossed his mind and he wandered straight over with a huge grin on his face. Standing directly in front of her, she tried to look past him but he kept moving to block her view.Johnny Slayer: “Hey baybee! You got boyfriend in ACW?!” Lilith Dormieux: “I’m not an American soldier, thanks.”Johnny Slayer: “Oh check that shit out man, this bitch is BRITISH! Show us your teeth girl, you gonna’ bite this nasty man’s dick off?” Lilith Dormieux: “I would, but I have a tendency to choke on small things. My teeth are fine, I visited an American dentist last week.”Johnny Slayer: “Oh really? Well how about you come back to my place and I’ll give you a... a CHECK-UP and maybe do some drilling and filling for ya’! FUCK YEAH!” Lilith Dormieux: “I’m afraid I can’t, for you see I’ve got far more important things to do with my time like.. OOH! Watching paint dry and pretending to-OOH. Actually... I’ve got free time in my schedule... wanna have some fun?”[/color
Surprised by the change of heart, he puts his arm on her shoulder and nods in agreement. Lilith takes his hand places it on her ass and pushes herself to him for seemingly no reason as Johnny starts to cop a feel.
Johnny Slayer: “Glad you came to your senses babygirl, you’ve got a great ass y’know!”
? ? ?: ”LILITH! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!”
A furious Draven Rook rushes into shot, swinging his cane furiously as he pays Johnny Slayer absolutely zero mind shoving him off of Lilith and focusing his rage onto Lilith herself.
Lilith Dormieux: “Master, it was not me that sinned but him! He was forcing himself upon me and there was nothing I could do about it! I swear upon our Lord I deceive you not, it is HIM! He is the lecherous pigdog who causes your frustrations, not I your humble slave!”
Draven Rook: “Oh REALLY?!”
Draven twists around on his heels and sees the slowly retreating Johnny Slayer trying to make an exit. Draven cranks up the volume and gets right up in his face.
Draven Rook: “Do you know who I am, rogue?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO YOU ARE CONVERSING WITH?!”
Johnny Slayer: “Fuck off, dick! I didn’t know this girl was your bitch! You talk like you’re from the fuckin’ Rennaisance or something, you asshole!”
Draven Rook: “How DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?! You have absolutely NO EARTHLY IDEA who you are dealing with PHILISTINE! You foul-mouthed, wretched imp! I am REVEREND DRAVEN ROOK, the voice of the masses leading ACW into a new generation of enlightenment and salvation and for YOU to try and corrupt my daughter you have done little more than seal your own fate in Hell!”
Johnny has had enough of this and grabs Draven by the collar of his robes.
Johnny Slayer: “Listen FUCKER! God doesn’t fix things, I DO! Not Jesus, but JOHNNY. Johnny SLAYER! Understand? Now how about you get the fuck out of my way and leave your whore with me so I can have a good time before I get into the nitty gritty of ACW kicking motherfuckers like you to the curb! You can go back to the church where YOU belong! You don’t belong in a wrestling ring at all old man!”
Draven wrenches back his own grip getting right up in the face of Johnny trying to avoid actually hitting him.
Draven Rook: “Oh believe me, had you have seen what I’m capable of in my sacred church, the wrestling ring you will have seen that I am a damn sight more capable than this feeble old man that you have me perceived for! I shall take you to Hell AND BACK inside of that ring if you cross me again on terms like THIS! Lilith is reserved for the pleasure of our lord and saviour Jesus Christ and his father, his greatness, our MASTER, God! Now know your place before I put you in it, MANGY CUR!
Oddly, common sense gets the better of Johnny Slayer who relinquishes his grip. A plan formulates in his head and he turns and leaves without a word. Draven smiles with distinct satisfaction, feeling that a great victory has been fought and won here backstage in the corridor. He looks at Lilith, who still seems unsettled by Slayer’s advances.
Draven Rook: ”Child, it is safe now. I have banished him from your presence.”
With that, her eyes light up like Catherine wheels and she leaps onto Draven with a big hug wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly. Draven remains statue-like during this whole thing as Lilith lets her master know she appreciates his act with this display of affection. Lilith “dismounts” and the two walk off set together as the screen goes black and the question is posed, who’s that random bald guy and why is he actually here? Well, besides to wrestle.
FADE
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:51:56 GMT -5
Llandurmeg: Birthplace of The Dragon Jack Jefferson
We see a windswept Jack Jefferson stood on top of a hill, in the distance behind him there is a small village nestled between the hills. A small rain shower is falling and it appears to be annoying Jefferson, although he could just be scowling because that’s what he always does. He stares down the barrel of the camera, looking extremely impatient then begins speaking.
Jefferson: In preparation for my World Title match this weekend at Samhain I thought I’d do my homework on my opponent, Dan White. Now, most of you think Dan hails from Cardiff but you’d be wrong. In fact, he was born and bred in a little village near Cardiff called Llandurmeg. So, I’m here to look at the place where Dan became the sorry excuse for a man he is today!
Jefferson’s scowl turns into a smirk and he turns to walk towards Llandurmeg and we see that he’s actually standing on a dirt track which winds down the hill towards the village. About halfway down the path there is a small building with a, poorly, hand-painted sign labelling the building as the “Local Shop”. Jefferson turns to the camera with a why-the-hell-not look on his face and shrugs his shoulders before walking through the front door.
Inside is like no other shop you’ll have ever seen in your life. I mean, there’s the standard stuff you expect of any shop; a counter, shelves, a till, and a door to a stock room. Yet the stock on offer isn’t quite what you’d be used to. There’s your normal tinned food, bottles of drink, washing powder and the like but there’s not a single recognisable brand, or English word on the label for that matter. There’s also less conventional items like frozen squirrels and beavers for sale.
A hunchback woman shuffles out through the green stockroom door; she is dressed very bizarrely and wrapped in what looks like a monk’s cloak. She stares at Jefferson who visibly winces as he sees her face. Her chin is covered in huge warts with numerous hairs sprouting out of them; she also has an empty socket where her left eye should be and one enormous bushy eyebrow. Jefferson is quick to hide his disgust but to no avail, the old woman has spotted him and grins to reveal her broken, missing and stained teeth.
Jefferson: I was wondering if you could help me.
Woman: No.
Jefferson: Oh? Why woul--
Woman: You’re not local. You must leave!
Jefferson: You wh--
Woman: Leave! Leave now. Your kind isn’t welcome here!
Jefferson tries once more to speak but the woman brandishes a bizarre chunk of wood, attached to a thin piece of rope, which she has around her neck.
Woman: Leave this place Devil’s Spawn!
Dumbfounded, Jefferson does what she says and backs out of the door with a mixture of confusion and fear in his eyes. As he backs out of the door and back onto the track he nearly takes a tumble, so taken aback is he, before turning to the camera and raising a solitary eyebrow, his mouth slightly open. He shakes his head and shivers in a very exaggerated fashion, as if he’s shaking off some kind of effect the woman’s had on him. Then, quickly as possible, he carries on walking down the path. Soon he comes to a sign which makes him stop and do a double take. The sign is written in Welsh but someone had added a second part, a translation that reads “Outsiders! You’re not welcome here”. Jefferson can be heard muttering to himself.
Jefferson: What the fuck have I got myself into?
It takes around another 5 minutes for Jefferson to reach the centre of the village and he is greeted by a small clump of stone houses, a Post Office, a pub and a butcher’s shop that looks like it has been long abandoned. Oddly, sheep seem to be wandering about freely and apart from the sheep the streets are completely deserted, save for one old man with a walking stick and a severe case of boggle-eye. He hobbles over to Jefferson, holding out an unfurled index finger towards Jefferson’s face that shakes as if he’s straining hard to keep it elevated.
Old Man: You should get yourself inside, wouldn’t want to run into Robbie.
Jefferson: Robbie?
Old Man: You’re definitely not from these parts if you ain’t heard of Robbie!
Jefferson: Yes, well done. So tell me, who the fuck is Robbie?!
Old Man: Robert Bamford is his name. Used to be our butcher but he went completely mad after eating some bad meat. He runs around the hills all night and comes down here to feed after sundown. He used to leave sheep carcasses laying about all over the place, terrible mess, but not long back he got some poor travelling man out after dark. Now they say he’ll only feast on human flesh so you’ll wanna get yourselves indoors before the sun sinks below those hills over there.
Jefferson: Okay...we’ll make sure to do that. Does the pub do rooms by any chance?
Old Man: They got a spare room or two, I’m sure they’ll put you up if you give ‘em enough. Now, get yourself inside...I got a nice Balwen waiting for me by the fire.
Jefferson: Balwen...what the fuck is that?
Old Man: Never you mind son, if you needed to know you’d know.
The old man chuckles to himself as he hobbles away, leaving Jack Jefferson stood dumbfounded for the second time already today. Eventually Jefferson gathers his senses and makes his way over to a rundown old pub that seems to be the focal point of the entire village. The Black Bull’s sign creaks annoyingly and the paint on it is peeling but in such a small, secluded place it is pretty much the only source of fun.
Jefferson is hit with a wall of noise as he enters the pub; a combination of general chatter and someone playing an old piano in the corner. Quickly, however, the noise seems to die down as one-by-one everyone in the entire place turns to face this newcomer. A murmur goes round, its aggressive undertones easy to detect and backed up by the glares being shot in Jefferson’s direction. Perplexed, and with every eye in the room fixed upon him, Jefferson cautiously strolls up to the bar and leans casually on it with his right elbow.
Jefferson: I’ll have a pint of Fosters please.
Barman: No you won’t.
Jefferson: I’m sorry?
Barman: Did I stutter boy? I said no, you won’t have a pint of Fosters.
Jefferson, who is getting extremely annoyed by this point, stands up from the bar and squares himself to the barman in an intimidating manner.
Jefferson: And why would that be?
Barman: Because we don’t serve that outsider muck here.
Jefferson: Oh? Well what lager do you have then?
Barman: None. We only serve Tom Llewellyn’s Local Brew here. Local Brew for local people!
Jefferson: Fine, gimme a pint of that then.
Barman: Normally I’d tell you what for right now, we don’t let you outsiders drink our Local Brew, but seeing as the darkness has rolled in you ain’t going nowhere so I’ll make an exception. One Local Brew coming up.
The barman hobbles over to an unmarked pump, it seems he’s got one leg significantly shorter than the other, and pours out a pint of Local Brew. The pint, which he sets down in front of Jefferson, is greyish brown in colour and extremely cloudy. It looks extremely uninviting.
Jefferson: Er...thanks.
Jefferson looks down at the swirling, cloudy mess that is his pint with trepidation; but every eye in the bar is on him, so he knows he can’t not drink it. He presumes the fat guy in the corner staring intently at him is Tom Llewellyn. He brings the glass to his lips and takes a big mouthful. The taste is awful but he forces himself not to wince. He has to force the gulp down and can instantly feel his stomach churning; nonetheless he struggles and forces a meek smile onto his face. As the residents of the pub see this they are satisfied and go back to their conversations, the normal atmosphere being restored and Jefferson feeling relieved about it.
Jefferson: So, are you the landlord then?
Barman: I am indeed, why do you ask?
Jefferson: I was just wondering, seeing as you’re the landlord, whether you remember someone who grew up here. His name’s Dan White?
Barman: Sorry, can’t help you, I haven’t been in charge for long. I wouldn’t bother asking anyone though, we don’t give information about our own to outsiders. Only chance you’d have, I reckon, would be if you went and talked to his parents. I’m guessing he’s Billy White’s boy?
Jefferson: Not sure, but I guess he would be. Where does he live?
Barman: Up the dirt track to the right when you head out of here. 5 minute walk up the hill. No point heading out there now though, they’ll be bedded in for the night and, anyway, Robbie’s roaming about so it’s not safe to be out.
Jefferson: Yeah, so I’m told. Speaking of which, I’m told that you do rooms?
Barman: We do, aye, it’ll cost you £65 for the night, £70 if you expect breakfast.
Jefferson: £70’s fine. Could I get the key now? Stomach’s feeling a tad fragile.
Barman: Haha, you outsiders are always the same. Haven’t got the stomach for the ol’ Local Brew have ya?
Jefferson: Apparently not.
The barman hands Jefferson the key to his room and points over to a step of stairs next to the gent’s toilet. He climbs the wooden stairs, which creak ominously under foot, and clutches his gurgling stomach; good job he only had one mouthful, if he’d finished the whole pint he’d be in trouble. He slots the old fashioned key into the lock of a heavy oak door and hauls it open. Inside, the room is sparse but comfortable enough with nothing too out of the ordinary barring the fact that there are three framed pictures of sheep. He collapses onto the double bed, grateful for the fact the mattress is comfortable, and closes his eyes whilst trying to block out the relentless churning of his stomach. It’s been a completely wasted day, he’d been harassed out of a shop by a crazy old woman, been told some insane story about a free-roaming cannibal, drunk the worst drink on the face of the planet and it’s all for nought. Tomorrow he’ll visit Dan’s parents, hopefully that’ll yield some information. Now, though, he just needs to sleep and hope his guts make it through the night.
Fade to Black
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:52:29 GMT -5
The frightful night continues onwards into darkness as All Hallow’s Eve provides the backdrop for ACW’s morbid trademark event. Many of the fans in attendance are adorned in various Halloween costumes, ranging from traditional terrifying ghosts and witches, to modern horrors such as evil robots and Vince Russo. A video, resembling the tunnel scene from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory, loops on the Alphatron as chilling audio effects of witches cackling and ghoulish moaning echoes from the in-house speakers. ACW knows how to pile on the cheese. The set, an ominous overgrown Jack-o-lantern, sits prominently at the peak of the stage. It’s terrifying eye sockets emit strobe lighting effects. Blinks of light, like lightning striking outside, flashes from behind the entrance curtain. Alongside the steep ramp that leads to the ring, a scattering of tombstones stand, all portentously bearing names of the ACW stars of yesteryear, including Latino; Thunderkiss; BK London; and Torak. Just then, a feeling of true horror disrupts the cartoonish horror harmony in the arena as the ghastly crunching of old industrial cogs grinding skewers the atmosphere and leads into “Nobody’s Real” by Powerman 5000. Everybody knows what is coming, and it’s as welcome as a barrage of eggs to your masonry. Predictably, from the mouth of the massive pumpkin, emerges the familiar (rounded) figure of Cordelia. She is packed tightly into a jet black corset and leg hugging tights. Her high heels clomp on the steel ramp as she struts towards the ring. Noticeably, her elbows are protected with black elbow pads. Is Cordelia looking to back her words up with action? She reaches the squared circle and hops up onto the apron before clambering through the ropes. She saunters to the far-side of the ring and demands the microphone from Phillip, who is understandably caught off guard by this abrupt change of schedule. She scowls as she snatches it from the tentative announcer and turns to the fans, keeping the sneer painted on her face. The music stops and is instantly substituted by a chorus of jeers. The boos, in this setting, are frighteningly similar to the ghostly moans that had previously been emanating from the speakers. Cordelia, however, is undaunted by the reception, having come to expect the negative feedback by now. She allows the volume to lower before she lifts the microphone to her lips, ready to speak. “First of all, before I begin with what I came out here to say, I want to start with pointing out how immoral and disrespectful it is of the ACW creative team to decorate tonight’s set with a mock-up of a gravestone with my Jack’s name spitefully etched upon it.”Her voice rasps into a growl as she peers unappreciatively towards the specially designed entrance set. The fans remain silent. Do they share her disgusted demeanor? “Knowing full well how hard it has been for me in grieving my loss - how hurt I have been - they have decided to mock me in my time of mourning – all in the name of entertainment and production values. That is exactly what I have come to expect from this corrupt, selfish company that can stand by, almost blamelessly, while others suffer.”Her voice cracks. Not from sadness, but from anger. The questionably distasteful exploitation of Torak’s death only fuels her agenda in the ring, and she’s all hell fire and brimstone as she roars over the microphone. “But that’s okay! Let them have their moment. It will all amount to nothing when I inevitably have my own wicked way with ACW and tear the place into tiny little pieces, leaving nothing behind to resalvage. Not even memories.”Her sharp tongue pierces with spite. The fans do not welcome her detrimental objectives and demonstrate their odium through a deep booming of jeers. Her harsh rasp wades through the noise. “But that can ultimately wait. Like a snake, I will first sink my sharp fangs deeply into the flesh of ACW, allowing my paralyzing venom to work it’s way slowly and painfully through the veins before I finally devour it as it squirms, unable to fight back. Starting tonight.”The volume spreads throughout the arena and rises to a deafening level. An extraordinary tone of hostility, not seen in an ACW arena for some time, builds at ringside. Smarts. Marks. Smarks. There are no words of encouragement or exhibitions of fandom prevalent in the crowd. “Many of you may think that I am incapable of such a feat. You may feel that I’m not strong and powerful enough. But that is where you are wrong. You are, typically, judging this book by it’s cover.”The volume decreases as Cordelia’s interjection of a mysterious shroud stirs up their curiosity. As the noise levels simmer, some individual remarks from the crowd are audible, but no more respectful. “You see, I have inside of me a powerful source of strength. Inside me, I have what it takes to bring this bandwagon of misfits and losers down to the ground into a crumpled and bloodied heap. Inside of me, I have… Torak.”She pauses, as a mixture of confusion and immature sexual suggestion rampantly breeds throughout the crowd. She purses her lips together and hangs her wrist loosely, taking another glance at the cheap gravestone mock-up near the stage. “I realize now that, whilst Torak may be gone, he does not have to die completely. I will bring Torak back to life by representing his soul, his thoughts, and his heart. I will continue the legacy that he created. By pursuing his goals and dreams. I will become as Torak was, to the point that nobody will be able to tell the difference.”It’s a fitting occasion, this Halloween, as more than a hefty percent of the audience are a little bit freaked out by the psychotic ramblings of Cordelia. Before they can utter their discontent, her voice punctures the atmosphere. “Tonight…you will witness the resurrection!”You would be forgiven for anticipating a bolt of lightning to strike the ring preceding a bout of maniacal laughter, but Cordelia’s silent gaze is far more unsettling. The fans uncomfortably writhe in their seats. Her embodiment of Torak is already taking its toll, it seems. “In order for me to walk in Torak’s footsteps and follow his desired path, I must first fill the boots which he had so vehemently broken in. Tonight, I will do just that as I go one on one, in a match, with a man whom Torak shares a notably violent history with. A history that, throughout its course, saw its fair share of blood and brutality.”The crowd immediately perk up, many of them rising to their feet. Naively, they turn to the entranceway, where the gravestones stand, noticing Latino’s placemark standing directly opposite Torak. They believe it is intentional symbolism and immediately break out in an excited chant for their Latin hero. The chant turns Cordelia’s stomach and she grimaces as it builds in volume. However, instead of the warm, Latin music that the fans hope for and, foolishly expect, it is the cold, familiar music of “O Canada”, a hard rock version, hitting the speakers instead. Through the curtain appears an old, vaguely familiar, cheerful face. It belongs to Justin Jehst, who, many die-hard ACWer’s may recall, hasn’t been seen since early 2006, at which point he unfortunately found himself on the end of a brutal Torak attack (is there any other kind?).
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:54:01 GMT -5
Match 2: Cordelia LaBlanc vs. Justin Jehst
He struts confidently to the ring. He may have been roped into this match for whatever reason, presumably Cordelia roping the Chairman around her little finger. Some are happy to see him back in ACW after such a long time absent. It wasn’t the rehabilitation that took it’s time – rather the therapy required following the torment suffered at the hands of the malignant beast three years ago. He looks happy to be back, too.
He hops up onto the apron and mounts the nearest turnbuckle to pose, raising his arms into the air, almost in celebration of being back in the ring. The fans in the corner near him applaud his return. Cordelia hurls the microphone away and glares at Justin as he laps up his joyous moment. A stressed referee rushes from the back, still buttoning up his shirt on his way, and slides into the ring. Justin hops into the ring, over the top rope, and poses again to the fans on the opposite side of the ring where he is also warmly received. Cordelia sneers again as she adjusts her elbow pads.
The music cuts and Justin, seemingly jubilant at the feeling of just being in the ring again, turns to face Cordelia... The referee calls for the bell and grants permission to the pair to begin. Justin stares at Cordelia and smiles. Normally, he may have qualms about hitting women, but these issues quickly dissipate as he remembers the hell that her ex-fiancé had put him through. He almost can’t wait to get his hands on her. Cordelia picks up on this as an anxious look spreads across her face. Justin slowly approaches her, occasionally glancing at the fans, seeking their approval. They heartily encourage him to finally exact his revenge. He pulls back and looks to aim a square punch right to her detestable chubby face…but out of nowhere, a figure appears and stiffly clotheslines Justin down to the canvas from behind. His shoulder length blonde hair drapes over another familiar face. It’s Cyda, the friend of Cordelia who had visited her recently. He winks at Cordelia before laying the boots into the ambushed Justin. A second figure also enters the ring. By virtue of a recent reminder, everybody recognizes him as Cordelia’s brother, Chris. He assists Cyda in the beatdown of the returning star.
Cordelia, meanwhile, confronts the referee, who at this point, has no idea what to do. She barks orders at him and he tamely yields to her. Cyda and Chris take turns in delivering stiff kicks to the midsection of Justin, who squirms in agony. He’s regressed all the way back to the vicious attack suffered at the hands of Torak in 2006 and the mental scarring becomes just as prominent as the physical ones.
Chris, fed up of wearing out his boot, pulls Justin to his feet and wrenches his head into a front facelock. Cyda roars his approval just before Chris delivers a Sitout Implant DDT. Cordelia applauds as Cyda cheers. Chris clambers to his feet above the wreckage that is developing from Justin’s body. He pulls the hapless victim to his feet and holds him up in front of Cyda. Cyda lets out a bloodcurdling yell before rushing at Justin and hitting a Jumping Sitout DDT, planting Justin on the canvas for a second time. Cyda hops to his feet and leaps up onto the turnbuckle, absorbing a lot of heat from the crowd in the process. Cordelia and Chris embrace in an exhibition of sibling affection. She softly whispers a request into her brother’s ear and he subsequently nods in acknowledgement.
He calls to Cyda to assist him, and he duly complies as they both pull a dazed Justin to his feet, taking grip of an arm each. Cordelia slowly struts to the broken star and wraps her hand around his jaw like a facehugger. She mouths an insult to him, which, in his beleaguered state, he is unable to comprehend. She then follows up with a sickening slap across the face that sends him crumbling to the mat. His lights are out. She drops to her knees and makes the cover whilst her brother roughly shoves the referee to the ground and orders him to make the count. He’s in no mood for rebellion and duly counts. One! Two! Three!
Cordelia jumps to her feet and leaps onto Cyda, hugging him in celebration, before delivering a soft peck on his lips. She then turns her attention to her Brother and kisses him on the cheek. The three of them embrace in a triangle over the damaged body of their victim, who lies prone in the middle of the ring.
With the job done, Cordelia suggests that they retire to the back and celebrate their reunion. The simpering referee cowers as they leave, hoping they continue to ignore his presence. Cyda and Chris work together to pry the ring ropes apart, allowing Cordelia an easy exit before following her. They stand either side of her, shielding her from the hateful fans alongside the rampway. She smirks, wickedly. As they reach the stage, they turn to face the crowd and link hands before raising them in victory. Their gesture, unsurprisingly, does not elicit a favourable response.
Before they leave, Cordelia turns to the fake gravestone of Torak and presses her palm to her lips before kissing and blowing it towards the monument. She mouths the words “I love you” before exiting through the curtain with a sinister smile spread across her face.
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:54:40 GMT -5
Segment: Could this really be the wheel of fortune? (Credit: Jonny Spade and High Roller)
Round and round and round she goes? Where she stops? Nobody knows. …well unless you were a psychic and you could predict the outcome of this completely random event then all the power to you. But neither of these men could. The shot fades in to a spinning wheel. One that looks awfully similar to that of the wheel of fortune wheel with pegs on the outer edge. However, on the inside where the amount of money is placed instead are matches that are possible matches to compete in. The camera zooms out to show both High Roller and Jonny Spade staring down at each other. The camera zooms out a little more to show the slightly shorter Chairman standing in the middle of the two monsters who are ready to go at each other when given the green light.
Gingerdude: Ok gentlemen I am sure you know why you both are here.
Jonny: Yup.
High Roller: Of course. To kick dis here coo-yon’s ‘eeth in!
Jonny: Hey, I don’t know why you have such hate towards me. I beat you fair and square in that card game. It’s not my fault you just take losing so poorly.
High Roller: Naw, da only thang I take poorly is losin to cheat’ahs like yoo! Yoo just be luck dat we ain’t be living in da days of old. Yoo would have had a bullet in your head for pullin dat trick!
Jonny: NO YOU LISTEN! You can’t prove that those cards belonged to me underneath that table. Just because I was sitting at a table with cards wedged underneath into a table leg doesn’t mean I was using it. For all you know who ever was sitting there before me could of put them there. I mean I wasn’t even the first guy sitting at the table.
High Roller: Boy, dat be one of da biggest loads of bullshit my ears have ever heard.
Jonny: Fine, you want to hear the truth Remy? I can’t wait to get whatever match this stupid wheel lands on so I can beat you once and for all to shut up that God forsaken mouth of yours from your bullshit that you keep spewing out from it.
Gingerdude: Okay, okay that’s enough of that. This pay per view is only so long. Let’s get this over with shall we? Jack lets spin that wheel shall we?
Jonny: That’s right he better spin that wheel because if I were to touch it he’d probably assume that I rigged it somehow to my advantage.
Gingerdude: HEY! I told you to shut up didn’t I? Now zip it.
Jonny gets taken back a little not normally hearing the boss have his voice raised at him.
Gingerdude: NOW; Jack spin this damn wheel before I do something I’ll regret later.
Jack steps up and spins the wheel it cycles through multiple matches. Everything from single’s matches, to Hardcore matches, to Hardcore Payphone matches, to…
Jonny: House of Mirrors?
Gingerdude: Yea…you know like at the circus?
High Roller: Circus? Dun yoo mean like at a carn-i-val? You know, with all dem mirrors dat make you look all fun-nay?
Gingerdude: Precisely.
High Roller: Woooooo wee! Naw yoo can watch yourself as I kick your ‘eeth down your throat!
Gingerdude: Hey! I said watch what you say to each other…Now once you two head out my office there will be security officers that will guide each of you into separate cars. So guys if you please?
High Roller is the first to leave after a quick stare down with Jonny again. Jonny looks a little more nervous now as he knows what to look forward to in his match as the scene ends.
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:55:17 GMT -5
A Mystery Unravelled [/color] Credit: VorteX / ??[/center] We cut to a shot of the crowd, bustling around in their seats. It has been a night of intense action so far, and those in attendance cannot wait for more. As the lights suddenly cut off, the crowd knows that ‘more’ has arrived.
Suddenly a soft wind blowing sound fills the arena, backed by music. This music continues for almost a minute, and the arena is still in pitch black, causing quite the uncomfortable moment. When the vocals hit, a single spotlight shines on the center of the stage, and those in attendance can see Vortex kneeling, hooded in robes.
Vortex stretches his arms out, still kneeling and sits there looking up at the light for fifteen seconds or so. As the music continues to play, Vortex rises to his feet, arms still outstretched. The piano riff kicks in and Vortex slowly raises his hands above his head and suddenly brings them down as the beat kicks in, and pyros shoot out of both sides of the stage. The lights kick up a notch, Vortex reaches backward behind him, and as the death vocals kick in he brings his arm forward and bats come flying out of the giant pumpkin heads eyes that serves as an entranceway.
As the bats flutter through the arena, people duck for cover, and Vortex starts to slowly walk down the ramp, head down. The music transitions from its hard beat to soft and Vortex begins to ascend the steps to the ring. Vortex gets to the center of the ring, raises his hands once more, and as the vocals kick in he brings them down, causing fire to shoot from all of the ring posts and simultaneously out of the pumpkins eyes and mouth.
Vortex stands there, ring posts ablaze in the midst of a shroud of smoke, with the bats finally taking to the ceiling. As the music fades away and the lights come on Vortex slowly takes off the hood and observes the crowd’s reaction. Half the crowd is in awe, the other half looking for bat poop. Vortex simply laughs and reaches for a microphone.Vortex: Stay a while…and listen. The crowds shock dies down and a large pop comes from within the center of the crowd and spreads to the edges, as if ice was slowly melting. Vortex stands in the center of the ring, looking upward to see where the bats went. He notices the ACW staff in the rafters trying to catch the bats, and he shakes his head and looks down at the crowd once more.Vortex: Not my usual entrance, however special occasions call for special entrances! The crowd pops again, this time with full force, for after being scared half to death by the bats, they are now appreciative of the spectacle.Vortex: As you all know, I have been speaking of having a ladder match at this PPV for quite some time now. Well, we are having one! A larger pop from the crowd, as they were waiting to hear that news.Vortex: Oh yes, I will be putting my title on the line also. To make it extra special, I am facing a mystery opponent! Vortex backs up against the turnbuckle and leans against it, assuming a casual posture.Vortex: Usually I like to break my opponents down, get a feel for them before I have to fight them. Tonight, I can’t exactly do that. So instead of sitting here in the ring and playing a guessing game, let’s get them down here! Vortex drops the microphone, slides out of the ring and begins looking underneath it for a ladder. He finds one, brings it out, shows it to the crowd---who naturally gives a loud pop in return---and slides it in the ring. Vortex then rises to his feet and looks at the entrance ramp. “Loser” by Beck hits and everyone in attendance groans (including Vortex). As the music plays, Gary comes out of the back, and starts hopping around the entranceway like a madman, ready for his shot at the title.
As Gary jumps around, Vortex throws his hands up into the air and the crowd starts a loud “this is bullshit! *clap* *clap* *clap*” chant. Gary looks a little dismayed and begins coming out of the entrance, however he doesn’t make it to the top of the ramp before he is pulled backwards through the entrance and thrown aside by some unknown person. The crowd goes silent for a moment, and for a good 15 seconds no one comes out of the back. Vortex picks up his microphone and raises it…
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Post by Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune on Nov 1, 2009 15:55:48 GMT -5
Then the arena explodes…in noise that is. The cause for that noise is “I’m a Bomb” by Natasha Bedingfield, and the subsequent entrance of Alicia Laureano. Vortex takes a few steps back, for even he could never have imagined his mystery opponent would be the legendary Atomic Kitsune. The arena is deafening with noise, so loud that the entrance music can barely be heard. It only takes one hand raise from Alicia and both the music and crowd die down as quickly as one can snuff a candle.
Alicia Laureano: Okay, keep your collective hairdos on, chaps and chap-esses.
She walks fully out on to the stage, putting one hand on her hip and taking a look at the assembled masses, before turning to Vortex.
Alicia Laureano: So... I hear there’s a ladder match somewhere around here that’s one slightly deranged person short of a shindig.
Vortex: I’m a little stunned here…someone of your caliber wants a shot at the Entertainment Title?
Alicia Laureano: Well, yes, though in all honesty, I’ve never been convinced that hanging several pounds of metal around my waist is the best way to make my bum look less like two badly parked Volkswagens, as someone or other once put it.
Vortex raises an eyebrow, archly.
Alicia Laureano: Let me put it this way. That there belt in your possession is, in a certain sense, the most important title in ACW. Some wrestlers come here to carve a niche for themselves and develop their skills. Others come to dominate all before them. Still more come to “save” us, presumably from the various other types who want to tear the place apart. None of this whatsoever is the slightest bit relevant if it doesn’t correspond with what all these good people here-
She gestures to the crowd with a sweeping motion-
Alicia Laureano: – are looking for. I won’t pretend to know what exactly goes on in that curious brain of yours, Signor Vortex. What’s clear is that you’re about more than just your win/loss record, or some grand plan to reshape ACW to your own blueprint. I like that, a lot. It intrigues me. And I’ve always been a tomboy sort, I like to take things – and people – apart and see what makes them tick. What do you reckon? Do you think the ladies and gentlemen here would be entertained by a pas-de-deux between the two of us?
Vortex: Oh, I’m quite sure we could put on a show for these guys. But I don’t know…what do you guys think?
Vortex turns to the crowd who respond with a deafening cheer, and Vortex pretends to be blown backward by the force and does a back somersault across the ring before returning to his feet.
Vortex: Well I think they’re all for it. So what do you say?
Alicia says nothing and begins to walk calmly to the ring. This prompts a loud “this is awesome! *clap* *clap* *clap*” chant. Alicia hands her microphone off and steps in the ring, and the two stare each other down....
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