Monday Night Warfare 4th February 2008

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Monday Night Warfare 4th February 2008

Schedule of Matches:
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Lucrezia vs. Wolf

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The Libertines vs. Mystery Opponent

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Silencio vs. Maximillion Richmond

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Hunter vs. Jon Taylor

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BK London vs. Jason Freeman

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[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

No pre-amble tonight; it’s showtime. Which means… everyone’s online. And that even includes one of our esteemed alter-egos….

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: Introduction of the Internet (Credit: BK London)

Gotta love polls, huh?

Polls can be used to determine quite a number of things, from how many people in the classroom prefer apples over oranges, how many people like Pepsi more than Coke, or even something as important as determining the president of the United States of America.

Normally BK London wasn't one to use a computer. The closest thing he had to advanced technology was his bluetooth, which fell in the toilet last week as he was on the phone and urinating at the same time. But something told him that something wasn't right about this whole internet poll business. So he decided to take things into his own hands and find the nearest computer to cast his vote for the No.1 Contender, as he's sure Thunderkiss did after last week's show.

Upon borrowing an old one that Alicia had in her locker room, he quickly logged onto the World Wide Web and headed to the ACW Homepage. There it was, a huge picture of BK London and Thunderkiss on the front page with "Vote for Jake Cheng's Opponent at Bloody Valentine" in big bold letters at the bottom. Without wasting anymore time, he clicked on the link and casted his vote..for himself of course. He felt a sense of pride, felt a sense of accomplishment about using a computer, he even thought about getting one himself. His triumphant accomplishment would soon be interrupted by an unwelcomed guest.

??: Casting a vote for yourself huh? Pfft, you won't win.

The voice was familiar, but what came out of his mouth wasn't exactly something characteristic of the person. Slowly BK London turned around, seeing a man with dark sunglasses and a goatee standing behind him very cockily. After squinting his eyes a bit, trying his best to notice who he was, BK eventually figures it out.

BK London: Kevin? Kevin Anderson? Is that you?

Kevin: The one and only, you dig the new threads right?

BK London: A muscle shirt and slacks? No thanks.

Kevin: Oh what do you know anyway?

BK London: I know I should probably kick your teeth down your throat right now for attempting to cost me my match against Mickey at Ragnarok.

BK advances towards Kevin while the ACW male correspondent backs up.

Kevin: Whoa whoa whoa! Kevin "The Internet" Anderson is not a fighter, simply just a reporter.

BK London: The Internet? What kind of nickname is that?

Kevin: A brilliant one. You see, no longer is Kevin Anderson "The Scoop" - Oh no - I'm much more than that now. The Kevin Anderson you see before you represents all the smarks around the world. And word on the internet is BK London, you're not so popular as you used to be.

BK London: Oh is that right?

Kevin: Oh that's right. You see, the internet fans are tired of the same old song with you BK London. It's nothing different, nothing reinventing, hell - they've even said your in-ring quality has severely diminished. You're the equivalent of John Cena.

BK London: Really? And where did you get this "information" from, Mr. Internet?

Kevin: From a little site, I'd like to call...Gamefaqs.

Shock, not really.

BK London: Gamefaqs huh? Doesn't sound too credible if you know what I mean.

Kevin: It's credible enough. And come next Thursday BK London, when the result is announced, you won't be going to Bloody Valentine. Oh no, it will be the person that millions and millions of smarks voted for, including myself, and that's the big bad booty daddy, Thunderkiss!

BK London: Well we'll see on Meltdown Kevin, but before you go, I want you to deliver this message to all of your little internet buddies.

Kevin: And what's-

Before he could even finish the second his head is almost knocked clear off his shoulders with a Shades of Michaels. BK stares down at the unconscious Kevin Anderson before smiling a bit and walking off camera. The camera shot continues to fade in to Kevin as the scene fades out.

Fade Out.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: Rack Her Up (Credit: Lucrezia)

The rack. A medieval torture device, popularized by John Holland in the infamous Tower of London. As torture devices go, the rack may hold the record for most gruesome execution. Death by stretching does not a picnic make.

The Damiano family collects 'le macchine di tortura.' Cesare pried his rack from the mangled body of an up and coming Italian haute couture designer. The fellow mentioned 'sepia tones' during a Valentino fashion show. Some sins are unforgivable.

Cesare cranks a hatchet, drawing the chains tied to his sister's wrists taut. She shivers, running a pink tongue across her teeth. Her milky skin stretches over her limbs. With enough force, her skin will crack, and an unfortunate soul would have to clean up the mess.

Lucrezia: Do it again! Do it again!

Cesare: Lu, darling. Your pretty skin...

Lucrezia: I look better in red.

Cesare: Be that as it may, I don't want you all bloodied up for your first match. You remember who you're facing?

She bares her ravenous canines, a low growl rumbling from her throat.

Lucrezia: A sheep in wolf's fur.

Cesare: Exactly. Did you bring your pruning shears?

Her talon-like hands flex, wrists bound tight by silver chains. Cesare pulls on the hatchet.

Lucrezia: Oooooo! Dark and nasty bits of you, tugging inside me!

Cesare: I want to see his blood. The oaf hurt me. Tried to hurt you. He deserves blood.

Cesare unfastens her chains. He assists his sister to her feet, massaging her wrists.

Lucrezia: I will give you what you seek, love.

She runs her fingers across his cheek, grazing his tender flesh. Her fingertips glide past his lips, drawing back moments before Cesare greets them with the tip of his tongue.

Lucrezia: Lick them dry, spit it out, smother them with your juices! I know you, Cesare. I know the pain you seek.

The eldest glides to the door, swaying in the air to an inaudible, holy tune. She pauses, eyes drawn to the ceiling.

Lucrezia: The moon is calling again. It gives me a little giggle, and a squiggle, and a wriggle!

Cesare perks up, drawing closer to his sister.

Cesare: The moon? Will you answer the call, Lu?

She turns to face him, eyes lit with a burning flame.

Lucrezia: Tonight, I should like a present for my foibles. Something delicious. Can you manage?

Cesare: For you, anything. Go, my love. I'll catch up shortly.

Lucrezia nods, floating out of the room. Cesare withdraws a bowie knife from the folds of his designer vest. He runs the blade along his delicate cheek, brows furrowed in heavy contemplation.

Cesare: Redheads. She hates redheads.

He departs, the silver of the blade gleaming under the light above. The rack is empty, but not for long.

Fade.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: “All Aboard!” Credit: Richmond, A. Starr, Jay Z, T-Train & T-Kiss

[Within the locker room of the Entourage, a feeling of disappointment still emanates from the group due to their loss at Ragnarok. Though its been over two weeks ago, the salt poured in their wounds by the Stable will most undoubtedly sting them for months to come. Being the hot topic at the moment, discussion about the match itself and what went wrong is what greets the ears of the ACW audience as the cameras begin to roll.]

Alex Richmond: Damn! I still can't believe I threw that match away by blacking out! I'm so sorry guys - believe me!

Jay Zero : Hey man, don't apologize you did good! Not your fault Jay Zero wasn't there to seal the deal! If that 320 pound piece of lard didn't rip me out of the cage, I would have been right there to fight it to the end with you!

Andrew Starr: Speaking of, whenever you're ready to disembowel the bad Xercies impersonator, I've got your back.

Alex Richmond: Same goes for me!

Jay Zero : Really? thanks guys, but. . . I kinda want to handle this one alone for now.

~!~BOOM~!~

[The booming sound of the door flying open and smashing into the opposite wall causes the entire ‘Raj to stop dead in their tracks and investigate the cause. They don’t have to wait long for the answer as coming through the door is both Thunderkiss & Thunder Train in a very unorthodox manner. Latched onto the big Train’s back, Thunderkiss is having the time of his life as T-Train carries him around like an amusement park ride.]

Mr. 500%: ALLLLLLLLLLLLL ABOARD!

Thunder Train: Whooooooo! Whooooooooo!

[Thunder Train runs a circle around the locker room with TK riding on his back, drawing the attention of the entire ‘Raj in the process.]

Jay Zero : What ..

Alex Richmond: .. The ..

Andrew Starr: ...Fuck?!?

[TK leaps off the shoulders of T-Train and comes from behind with toward the group sporting a smile 10 miles long.]

Mr. 500%: Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to our newest team member, and my body guard ... the Thunder Train!

Thunder Train: The Train is ALWAYS hungry.

Andrew Starr (With an amused smirk): I can tell when I've been replaced...[/b]

Mr. 500%: Listen Starr, you did a great job and everything but you’ve grown far past your initial role. I mean, look at you. You’re burning up the midcard and going after the Entertainment Title, and THAT’S GOOD buddy! That’s what we all want you to do. But it has to come at a price, and that’s your bodyguard duties.

Alex Richmond: You know what Starr? He's right!

Mr. 500%: Of course I am! Listen Andrew, you just worry about defeating Jonny Hughes!

Jay Zero : So is Thunder Train going to watch all of our backs?

Mr. 500%: Well actually, he’s my own personal body guard.

Jay Zero : *rolling eyes*: Ahhh, that sure is--- nice. . . .

Mr. 500%: Z, as you know, I’ve had some “stalker” issues as of late thus I *NEED* the big Train around to watch my back. Thus far good ol’ Leeroy and Wilcox have only succeeded in failing and I’m too busy to worry about every shadow and noise behind me. Listen, If he has extra time, I’m sure Train wouldn’t mind accompanying any of you guys if needed. Right Train?

Thunder Train: Of course. The Train is hungry for anything and everything!!!!

Mr. 500%: Well that’s settled! So come on guys, lets show some hospitality to our new friend!

[And with that the rest of the Entourage steps forward and shakes Thunder Train’s hand. Now fully welcomed as part of the group, the legacy of Thunder Train in ACW is now, pardon the pun, going full steam ahead.]

[FADE]

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: Friendly banter
Credit: Jon Taylor

In a scene that shocked the ACW world, it had appeared that maybe the last great pure wrestler had given up. With a new set of moves, a new attitude and a new goal it looked like the Jon Taylor who had been in ACW just mere weeks ago had given up. Gone had the dedication to the art of technical wrestling, gone had the unwillingness to bend the rules in the ring, like so many people before him. This person was truly a different person. From being one of the most well liked and respected by his roster, Jon Taylor had turned into an egotistical jerk. And the sad thing was, it looked like Taylor liked it. It had appeared like his whole attitude and outlook on his wrestling career had changed. The sad fact was that it looked like no one in the company could survive without fighting fire with fire. It looked like Taylor was the last in a long line of victims.

Taylor can be seen sitting in his locker room, the nameplate on the door now says "Jon "The Ultimate Competitor" Taylor. It has ACW International Champion underneath also. Taylor appears to be watching something on a TV, though it is hard to see what. Unlike usual Taylor has a different set of attire on, though not his wrestling attire, it was still not the usual set of clothes you'd expect to see the former Mr. Wrestling wearing. Taylor has on a black t-shirt with the words "The Ultimate Competitor" and a pair of darkish blue jeans. The door swings open and Jon looks over.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

You took your time.

Standing in the doorway is Bill, he has his usual smart grey suit on and has a carrier bag in his right hand.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

Well that's what you get when there are no shops for miles!

Bill places the carrier bag on the table, well I say places, it's more like drops the bag. There is a huge thud.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

What did you get?!

Bill reaches into the bag, after feeling around in the bag he pulls out something.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

Nothing like a bottle of Dr. Pepper to get the blood going!

Taylor smirks.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

If you mean to kill your swimmers, and rot your teeth, then you would be correct.

Taylor pauses.

I trust you got what I asked for.

Bill scowls, and reaches into the bag, he moves a few of the objects inside before finding what he was looking for.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

I don't see what's so great about this anyway; it's just a protein shake. It cost more than I paid for my shoes!

Taylor appears to be unamused.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

That doesn't say much considering you get your shoes from the bargain basement line. If you'd like me to explain what it does that warrants it's price tag, then I will. It's not like im going to learn much from these tapes anyway, since i'm competiting against a Drunk tonight. I'll be surprised if he can actually stand up.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

Go on then, what's so good about that protein shake?

Taylor sighs.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

As you know through rigorous activity, such as weight lifting, the fibres within your muscles tear slightly. All this shake does is aid the recovery of your muscles; helping to prevent injuries and making the muscles stay in top shape.

Bill appears unimpressed.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

We had none them in my day, and look at me - i'm just fine!

Taylor smirks slightly.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

Yes, not counting your long list of injuries, beer belly and spare tire.

Bill appears to be upset by this comment.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

Hey! No need to be so harsh there, Jon.

Taylor smiles.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

Just making my point clear!

There is moment or two of silence.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

So, anyway, who is this Hunter guy?

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

The person Cheng beat for the World Championship at Ragnarok. True to form he has turned into a complete mess since then, and can usually be seen staggering the backstage area.

Bill chuckles.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

ACW Management best watch out!

Taylor looks curious.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

Why?

Bill Wright | The Trainer

Well, once your through with him tonight and sobers up to find the top four teeth missing from his mouth, he might try sue them for negligence.

Taylor laughs.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

If that's the case then ACW Management are going to have a big hospital bill, aren't they? I hear they still haven't found The Libertines canines I knocked out at Ragnarok. Well, luckily I choked Silencio out so bad he decided to quit wrestling altogether, so that's one less person they have to worry about.

Taylor pauses, and appears to be thoughtful. There is a large thud on the door followed by the words "Jon Taylor?", Taylor and Bill immediately look around.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

Who is it?

Chaz Reynolds | ACW Staff

Sorry to bother you, Jon - but the Chairman would like to see you in his office immediately.

Taylor looks confused.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

May I ask why?

Chaz Reynolds | ACW Staff

Sorry, he didn't tell me why.

Taylor doesn't appear to be too pleased to be interrupted in his preparation before his match.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

Fine, tell him Bill and I will be there in 5 minutes

Chaz Reynolds | ACW Staff

I shall let him know right away!

Footsteps can be heard going away from the door, indicating that the ACW staff member has left.

Bill Wright | The Trainer

I wander what he wants.

Jon Taylor | The Ultimate Competitor

I have no idea, it better be good.

Taylor picks up his belt and begins to make his way to Chairman Gingerdude's office. Bill follows behind, taking swigs out his bottle of Dr. Pepper.

End.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Match 1: Lucrezia Damiano vs. Wolf (Credit: Lucrezia)

Warfare festivities underway, the program director signals to Philip to commence announcing the first match of the night. Fallout fans straighten up, fingers crossed for a strong showing. Word of the bizarre antics of a certain Italian sociopath spreads from fan to fan, and it is with some trepidation that Philip taps the microphone for a sound check. The chatter dies down.

Philip: The following is a singles contest, to be won by pinfall or submission. Introducing first: representing Fallout; from Winnepeg, Canada; weighing 285 pounds; Wolf!

"Mongolian Wolf Star" crashes through the speakers. Wolf stalks down the runway to an appreciative pop, his stare enough to silence the most tedious of hecklers. He mounts a turnbuckle and poses, muscles rippling with power. The raging crowd hushes, intimidated by the star's sheer strength.

Philip: And the opponent, hailing from the Vatican, she is the 'Anointed One,' Lucrezia Damiano!

A murmur of interest sparks in the crowd. An alluring, hypnotic tune drowns out the harsh speaker blasts. Lucrezia emerges alongside brother Cesare. She sways from side to side, her limbs fluid as they swish through the air. The crowd watches, entranced by her graceful gyrations. Hand in hand, brother and sister bend through the ropes, unwilling to lose skin contact. Cesare presents Lucrezia with a small stool, adorned with a little tray of Communion wafers and a golden goblet of wine. With a smacking of her lips, Lucrezia partakes in Holy Communion, her red fingernails rubbing her tummy with an erotic relish. After a quick peck on the cheek, Cesare hastily departs with the remains of the Eucharist, taking a seat by Edison and McNally.

Wolf observes this religious entrance with a curious expression etched on his face. He recalls his last, violent encounter with the crazed woman and stiffens. He would not let his confidence get the best of him. They circle. Lucrezia's spider-like fingers beckon him closer, eyes mad with sadistic lust.

Bell rings.

Commencement

Impatient, and spurred by Lucrezia's insane eyes, Wolf charges with a solid underhook punch. With the speed that would be the envy of any mongoose, Lucrezia's talons dart forward, slapping the strike away with a downward swing. As Wolf turns, Lucrezia connects a wicked backhand, the resulting crack echoing throughout the arena. The crowd collectively winces as Wolf's jaw warbles. The giant man stumbles back, stunned by the force of Lucrezia's slap. He tries another running assault, but the enigmatic medium meets him halfway with a lunging counter elbow. Her pointy, bony elbow jams into his nose, his bones nearly shattering from the impact. Lucrezia draws closer, then promptly screeches in pain as Wolf retaliates with a snapping headbutt. Lucrezia crumples to the floor, drawing a concerned look from Cesare, still ringside. Wolf hoists her up to her feet, grips her by the throat with meaty hands, and tosses her roughly into a nearby corner. He charges, moments away from hitting his patented Stinger Splash. A milisecond before certain death crashes down on Lucrezia, the devious lady drops to a splits position, her body eerily compliant as she forces her torso to straighten out along the mat. Wolf's face greets turnbuckle with a nasty crunch.

Crescendo

Wolf evades a furious claw-assault from Lucrezia, her sharp fingernails swishing through the air at remarkable speeds. He parries one vicious swipe but collides with the other, cheek oozing droplets of fresh blood. Growling with rage, he knees Lucrezia in the gut, then sets up a beautiful vertical suplex, stalling slightly in the air before slamming Lucrezia's back on the hard canvas. She screeches, writhing sensuously on the floor. Giving her no quarter, he jumps high in the air before promptly dropping down on her neck with an extended leg. He keeps his leg draped across her throat, prompting the referee to start the count. Lucrezia kicks out well before the referee slaps the mat twice. She rolls to her feet, hissing cat-like at the smirking Wolf, who gives her a similar 'come get some' gesture. In a flurry of red and black, leaps into the air for a brutal flying clothesline, knocking the larger man down. After a vicious kick to the gut, she lies on top of him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck in a picture perfect rear naked choke, dubbed 'Matrimony.' She grinds up erotically on his back, teeth grazing his neck flesh, poised to bite. Wolf struggles to breathe, black spots popping up in his vision. In a fit of desperation, he staggers up to a vertical base, Lucrezia still clinging to him with a vise-like grip. With a bellow of power, he falls backwards, squashing the screeching woman to the floor.

Climax

Both contenders, weary after a long, evenly matched bout, confront each other one last time in the center of the ring. Lucrezia ducks under a standing big boot kick and connects a swift European uppercut to Wolf's chin, making him stagger back. She connects a solid boot to the gut, doubling him over. Applying a front facelock, Lucrezia is moments away from hitting a mighty snap DDT when her opponent releases a grunt of pure power, lifting her in the air, countering her attempt into a setup for his finisher, the Fall from Valhalla. Cesare leaps to his feet, dashing up to the apron, about to intervene. The referee marches over, arguing furiously with the younger Damiano. Lucrezia, meanwhile, jabs two sharp fingernails in Wolf's eyes, nearly puncturing his pupils. He howls in sheer, agonizing pain, clutching his abused eyeballs. Lucrezia hops to her feet, grinning with malice. Cesare smirks, jumping back off the apron and settling back in his chair. As Wolf stumbles blindly around the ring, he's caught in a wicked high roundhouse kick to the head, dubbed The Excommunication. Wolf's head snaps around by the force of Lucrezia's lunging kick. Lucrezia raises her hand high in the air, the light illuminating her bloodred nails. She snatches his long blond hair, yanks his neck back, and dives her fingers deep into his mouth, seeking out vital nerves and pinching them with all her might. Wolf screams, arms flailing uselessly in the air. They drop to the floor, Lucrezia hovering over him, fingers still puncturing his raw mouth. After a few agonizing seconds, Wolf taps the mat urgently, succumbing to her finisher, the Eucharist.

Winner: Lucrezia Damiano

"Strict Machine" plays once more, but the arena is eerily quiet, shocked at what they just witnessed. The referee yanks Lucrezia's hand out of Wolf's mouth after her refusal to relinquish the hold. Her immaculate hand drips with shining spit. Disgusted, the referee raises her other arm in victory. Lucrezia purrs at Cesare, who presents her with a tray of holy water to cleanse her hand of its oral juices. Wolf cringes on the floor, retching. Cesare kisses his sister's cheek. She responds by lifting him up in her arms, as if a groom carrying the bride to their bed chamber. The pair make their exit to hushed whispers, flashing Wolf one final manic grin before disappearing behind the ramp.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: A new addition to the staff (Credit: BK London)

As we return from commercial, we can see Chairman Gingerdude talking to a person off camera, who is it? We don't know yet. But we're going to find out.

Gingerdude: You, being a part of ACW for quite some time now, know how busy I am with paper work and other ACW activities, don't you?

??: Absolutely Mr. Gingerdude.

It's a woman's voice, a bit familiar, but who could it be?

Ginger: Well, since you've been sitting home for the better part of the year, I thought I'd bring you back as a Personal Assistant to me. Lord knows I need it, and lord knows you need the money.

??: Oh I have plenty of money, but I do need something to get me out the house from time to time.

Ginger: Well either way, I'm glad to have you on the staff. Welcome to the team, Kiley.

The camera swings around, and there she is. Kiley Johnson, the ex-wife of BK London stands before the fans and there is a mixed reaction for her presence. She smiles and shakes the hand of Chairman Gingerdude, sealing the deal.

Kiley: It's glad to be on the team.

Ginger: Now, if you can, check the mail room for a big brown envelope sent for me? It's very important.

Kiley: No problem.

She begins to walk out the room but stops, and slowly turns around.

Kiley: Mr. Gingerdude sir, can I ask you a question?

Gingerdude: Why certainly.

Kiley: You don't think, um, BK London will have a problem with me working here again, will he?

Gingerdude: As far as I am concerned, that's not any of his business. He has more important matters to attend to.

Kiley: ...you're...you're probably right.

Kiley walks out of the room with a look of uncertainty on her face, but she knows with this new job she has to fufill her obligations. She walks off camera as the scene fades out.

OOC: Kiley will be known as Chairman Gingerdude's personal assistant for a while, so if anyone wants to use her please contact me before doing so. Thank you.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: Calling it in
(Credit: Senatorial Stable)

As we return from one of the finest commercial breaks ever to bless us, it seems that the focus isn't on the ring. No, instead it appears another entry in the lives of Senatorial Stable is about to play out! They sure are wacky characters! As they all seem to be fraternizing in their massive locker room, it seems that their leader is off. Probably with personal errands. Murderous personal errands.

Fitsharris: Can't. Get. This. Thing. To. Work.

Hunter: Here, lemme see...

Hunter snatches the remote out of Kevin Fitsharris' hands, hitting a few buttons, and the screen on the office plasma screen television comes on.

Fitsharris: Technology hates me.

Hunter: I don't really blame it.

He takes another swig from his bottle as Fitsharris lowers his head in shame.

FSX: Hey Sennie! How's it going out there? Fix that hole in the wall yet?

Hughes: Actually, I'm pretty sure he's doing something more official.

FSX: Oh...well, how's that going then?

Senator Phillips, indeed, is seen on a live feed from his Washington DC office, as he addresses the rest of the crew.

The Senator: Splendid! I had some major business to take care of out here, but that should not preclude me from...hey, what is that on my desk?

Hunter eyes his bottle, which now rests precariously on the Senator's desk. He grabs it and quickly puts it behind his back.

Hunter: Nothing.

Hughes: A bottle of Jack Daniels, apparently.

Senator: Look, I rent that office there, so do try not to create a mess there, okay? And by all means, keep that away from Fitsharris.

Kalb: Yeah, definitely.

FSX: How can you rent this office, but you let us in it? You're aware we blew up your last one, right?

Hunter: Not to mention the one before that lasted about five minutes.

FSX: Yeah...so is anyone going to fix that wall? I mean, I could probably call some---

Freeman: Man, I need to get back to the gym...see you all later.

FSX: Hey, I was trying to sa---

Hughes: Fine, later then.

FSX: Hey, come o---

Senator: Oh, by the way, I do assume this is on the general ACW feed, right?

FSX: YES IT IS, DAMN IT!

Senator: ...good. Very well then, I have a brief message for a certain someone who bought some ACW advertising time recently. For the benefit of those who either were not watching last week, or lack the benefit of brains, that would be one Mr. Thunderkiss. My message is quite simple! You want to wage a war in the media, go right ahead and waste your money! The worst fiction you can create will not do anything further than score meaningless points with a fraction of the audience around here. You are paying, nay, wasting big bucks to snicker along with your "army," while I work on funding the real deal! Thunderkiss, I have said it before, and I will say it again. Give it up. You are outclassed, and trying to enter into a world that you do not belong in. You are an utter imbecile, and as such, are best suited to remaining in a setting where violent outbursts are rewarded. I will give you one final warning, if you want to play games, I can play games with the best of them...and as I have already demonstrated with the last time you showed up here in DC, you do not want to play these games.

Kalb: Boss, you said brief...

Senator: Do not interrupt me, Mr. Kalb. Anyway, you enjoy all those calls from those reporters? The ones asking for personal information, your name, and your view on every boring subject under the sun? You enjoy the feminists protesting the company that produces your vile "energy drink?" Surely you had a great time when you found that several organizations have protested your presence on ACW television, stating that it goes against campaign finance reform laws! Look, to tell the truth, I hardly enjoy that side of the political realm, either. I much prefer our way of dealing with matters around these parts. Especially, when, despite our mutual elimination, my side wins. And with that, I would like to congratulate Mr. Hughes for his excellent performance, and I do need to be signing off. Do hold down the fort there, continue fighting the good fight!

The feed cuts off, and Hunter shuts the television off.

Hunter: That's enough...for now, or some such shit.

Hughes: Not looking too good there, Hunter.

Hunter: Shut up, I just need some time to myself! Yeah, I didn't mean to say it like that, but screw it, I do need some time and space here!

FSX: Well, if Hunter "needs some time alone," that likely means he'll be here in the morning too. Drunk. Possibly laying in a pool of his own piss and vomit.

Hunter: I don't urinate while drinking.

FSX: ...so, I'll probably take tomorrow off anyway...for...separate reasons. I got better things to be doing anyway, like spending my time on the phone!

Hughes: Suit yourself, I might as well go study for my next match, anyway.

Kalb: And I sure don't want to be stuck in a room with two drun---

Hunter picks up a paperweight, and hurls it at a rapidly retreating Kalb, leaving Fitsharris in the room. The Capitalist stealthily reaches for the bottle of liquor...

Hunter: Touch it and I'll turn that hand into a beer hat.

Fitsharris: Damn it!

Finally, Fitsharris leaves as well, as Hunter and his bottle remain...and the camera cuts out.

Fade Out.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: Brother Knows Best? (Credit: Michael)

INT. DWIGHT GYM, 11:13 P.M.

( The Dwight Gym is alive with the melodies of flesh on canvas. Though the other trainees had all retired long ago, a lone figure remains, creating a symphony of sound and fury. A single light shines on Kirsten Carter, who has opted for a late-night training session with the punching bag. Step by step, blow by blow, Kirsten feels the proverbial Molotov cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins rage ever more furiously through her system. However, something quickly jars her focus. The gentle clacking of feet on the gym floor. As the noise draws closer and closer, Kirsten tenses herself, readying a retaliatory measure. Once she feels the intruder is within range, Kirsten throws back a mighty solebutt. However, her adversary is a blink faster. Kirsten’s foot stops dead in its tracks as the opponent catches it between two hands. )

. Gee, sis, jumpy much?

( The trespasser turns out to be merely Nick Durden. Kirsten heaves a sigh of relief. )

KIRSTEN. You know I don’t like to be snuck up on.

NICK. You should be well aware of my penchant for dramatic entrances by now, right?

( Kirsten scoffs and gives her brother a familial hug. )

EXT. DWIGHT GYM

INT. SEATTLE’S BEST CAFÉ, 11:30 P.M.

( Kirsten and Nick are seated near the window, each nursing a respective cup of java. )

KIRSTEN. Nice of you to stop by. I know you’ve been really busy, what with the loafing and the lollygagging and, of course, who could forget the ever-demanding sitting around doing nothing?

NICK. Hey, I’ve told you, I’ve been busy writing a book.

KIRSTEN. Oh really? How you coming along on that by the way? Got a big stack of papers there? Got a nice little story you’re working on there? Got a big novel you’ve been working on for three years, huh? You got a compelling protagonist, eh? Got an obstacle for him to overcome? A little story brewing there, working on? Working on that for quite some time, huh? Yeah, talking about that three years ago? Been working on that this whole time? Nice little narrative, beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, and enemies become friends, yeah? And at the end your main character is richer for the experience, yeah?

NICK. Kiki, you’ll forgive me if I won’t take literary advice from someone whose last book read was the novelized version of The Phantom Menace. And I want my Family Guy DVD’s back.

KIRSTEN. Fat chance, bucko.

( The two share a hearty chuckle, both of them having seriously missed this kind of playful mockery. )

KIRSTEN. So what’s new? How’s things been with that doctor you were last seeing? Sarah, or something?

NICK. Oh...well...I mean, she was nice and everything, but...uh...the timing, you know, it wasn’t right.

( Kirsten sighs hugely in frustration. )

KIRSTEN. Oh my god, you’re still hung up over Renix aren’t you?

NICK. What? No, get serious. You honestly think I’m that big of a wuss?

KIRSTEN. Knowing you...YES!

( Nick scoffs, trying to play it off coolly. )

KIRSTEN. Look, Nick, she’s gone, okay? I know how you’re feeling. You took a leap of faith, and she crushed you. But you gotta let this one go. If you keep letting this get in the way of your life, she’s the one who wins.

NICK. It’s not about winning or losing.

KIRSTEN. Then what is it?

NICK. I was so sure about my future, about how I was gonna be happy for the rest of my life because I would have the girl of my dreams with me forever. When you lose that, it’s kind of a bitter pill to swallow. Besides, I don’t think you’re too qualified for romantic advice. I heard you were gallivanting with Jake again.

KIRSTEN. So what if I have been?

NICK. Didn’t you learn anything from last year? Jake doesn’t give a damn about anyone else. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. He—

KIRSTEN. You know, Nick, this “Charles in Charge” routine was old when I was 14, it isn’t any more entertaining now, so please kindly pull your head out of your ass and wake up to the realization that I’m a grown woman now. I know what’s best for me; I can watch out for myself.

( Long silence from them both, as they quickly realize they’ve touched on subjects that are very sensitive to the other. )

NICK. Sorry.

KIRSTEN. Yeah...

( Silence again. )

KIRSTEN. Look, I think it would be best if we just trusted in each other to make the right decisions for ourselves. That sound fair?

NICK. Yeah...I can live with that.

( The two smile warmly at each other. )

KIRSTEN. Look, I’ve got an early training session tomorrow.

NICK. Yeah, I gotta catch a flight too.

KIRSTEN. It was good seeing you, though.

NICK. Anytime.

( Nick extends his hand for a handshake, but Kirsten warmly embraces him instead. Nick smiles. )

EXT.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: Morale of The Story..? (Credit: FSX)

Talk about a situation. Insert witty comments regarding the fact that ACW is returning for an exciting edition of Warfare for the first time since the PPV Ragnarok. Mention something regarding the general size and disposition of someone else's mother. There comes a point when patter and excess of predictability is noted in the work of each and every one of us, and we all begin to wonder if anyone truly cares of what we do in this business, or whatever business it may be we take stride in. Whether it be a wrestler in search of recognition and trying desperately to remain original over the years, without making any drastic changes to character...or selling out as a popular way of revitalizing themselves in the eyes of those they desperately crave reaction from. Whether it be a man who attempts to do something that has never been done before, to get noticed in their line of employment, or to simply be dubbed an important part of society. There comes a point for all of us when it becomes routine. When we realize that there is no path to happiness through our struggles, and that we should all give up. Those of us that are sensible will come to this realization at some point. There are also those that live in an ignorant bliss of undeserved happiness and self-confidence.

I choose to be one of the ignorant. Fallen Souls was still living quite large from his recent success at Ragnarok, seeing he made good of his dreams to defeat a man who believed a large portion of the match took place in a fantasy land of mystical dreams, and he successfully rid himself of his serious infestation of masked wrestler's who were trying to survive in the world of big time wrestler's. But they didn't. That's not to say they are dead now, mind you, but they are someone else's problem now. Speaking of problems, it seems that FSX is beginning to realize he has one of his own. Since his unimportant return to ACW, he's simply drifted back into the work of things slowly and has failed to make any lasting impression on this generation of fans. In short, no one could care less if he comes or goes, and he hasn't proved to anyone thus far that they should. Since his return, he's succeeded in doing next to nothing of notice, and has no true story to revitalize himself with. What, is he going to spend his days chasing down an evil drink corporation? Maybe...but that can only last for so long. In a matter of time, the happy Korean individual you see before you will likely fade to obscurity and become a bigger booze hound then Hunter is turning out to be.

FSX: Life sucks...

Indeed it does, but is there any saving grace? Is there any salvation for the man that was once called the Respected X by all? Possibly, but if Fallen remains in his current routine he won't soon discover it. A frown on his worn out face, FSX simply lazed himself back on a couch in the Senatorial locker room as he stared off at a blank screen. It appeared he was the only one in the said locker room today, seeing everyone else was busy with the incredible entertainment phenomenon that is Warfare. Being an unbooked nobody, however, who was Fallen to care? What was he to do?

FSX: I guess I could just sit here and talk to myself...that could be fun.

Perhaps beginning a rousing conversation with himself was the answer after all!

FSX: But then everyone would think I'm crazy again..and psychiatric hospitals suck..

Or not...but there must realistically be something that could spare FSX of the never-ending boredom that is being unbooked! As he seemed to ponder that question to himself, an idea must of struck him as he smiled and got up, quickly making his way across the room and into the office that Senator used for his personal affairs.

FSX: Maybe I could call up some foreign presidents! Yeah! I could cause Enrique Iglesias to become emperor of the earth! Wait..no..I already did that once. Shoot.

Returning to his previous sulking attitude, Fallen paced back into the general sitting room of the Stable's locker room and had another quick look around for something to capture his interest.

FSX: Maybe I could start a presidential campaign! That seems to be the popular thing to do nowadays! That, or a comic book!

Perhaps both combined! A presidential campaign through a self-made comic book!

FSX: Wait...but I'm not an American Citzen...and I can't draw. Shoot.

Another plot foiled by common reason and artistic skill! But there must realistically be something that could occupy Fallen's time at least until the end of the night, where he could likely party with his fellow stable mates! Or make Hunter sober up!

FSX: An intervention! That's got to be the answer! But...then again..that won't entertain me right now.

Fallen sighs once more, beginning to realize that nothing within the small confines of this room was going to capture his interest and give him something exciting and fun to do.

FSX: Well...I guess I could go lurk the hallways of ACW...Maybe I'll meet some wacky guys and beat them to death! Yeah!

What better way to spend a Monday then to beat random individuals to death, after all? With a grin on his face now, and a hop in his step, FSX happily makes his way out of the locker room and shuts the door behind him. Will he find something to capture his feigning interest in the world around him on his adventures? Will he get involved in a storyline of some sort soon? Was this technically a segment about nothing whatsoever? All of this may be so, but expect more answers next time around!

Fade out.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Match 2: The Libertines vs. Mystery Opponent (Credit: BK London/Pre Match Credit: Libertines)

Phillip: This match is scheduled for one fall, making his way to the ring weighing in at 236lbs, from London, England, The Libertines!

"Delivery" by Babyshambles sounds through the speakers of the arena and out through the curtains comes none other than one of the most hated men in recent history, The Libertines. Walking with a pair of sunglasses on, making him look about ten times cooler, he struts to the ring to a chorus of boos from the fans in the sold out ACW arena. As he hops into the ring, he walks over to Phillip and asks for a microphone before snatching it out of his hand.

The Libertines removes his sunglasses and steps to the middle of the ring as the music and the crowd dies down.

The Libertines: Now most of you want to know why The lamer also known as BK lamedon wants to wrestle The Libertines. Well now many of you may know that BK's balls are getting smaller well it's because he is using steriods to beat The Libertines. So The Libertines is saying why wait two weeks. Now my opponent tonight will be none other than.....BK!.

There is a bit of shock within the crowd as The Libertines hands the mic back to Phillip. The crowd is anxiously waiting for BK London to make his appearance, but is let down once they hear some corny generic rock music through the speaker.

The small scrawny caucasian steps through the curtain, eager to have his first match in ACW. He tries to get the crowd to rally behind him, but they simply boo him as expected.

Phillip: And his opponent, weighing in at 195lbs, from Brooklyn, New York, BK Jordan!

He slides into the ring and hops up on the turnbuckle to get some support from the fans, but they continue to boo him. BK Jordan hops down from the turnbuckle and as he turns around Libertines takes him down by the arm and locks in the Crossface.

Referee Joey Reynolds sounds for the bell.

As the match commences, BK Jordan is struggling to get to the ropes while being locked in the crossface. With The Libertines' much heavier frame and his tight grip on the face of BK Jordan, within about 8 seconds the jobber taps out.

Phillip: And the winner of this match, The Libertines!

The Libertines' theme sounds through the PA system and the victor refuses to let go of the hold. He keeps it latched on until BK Jordan eventually passes out from the pain. ACW officials race from the back and aid Joey Reynolds in prying off the London native.

The Libertines: How does it feel now BK?! HOW DOES IT FEEL NOW?!

The Libertines slips out of the ring and watches from afar at the wreckage in the ring as the scene fades out.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

The Return of a ZERO
Jay Zero

[/b][/color][/center]

The scene opens up to the Chairmans office. We get right into the action with Nicholas Savich standing hunched over with his arms on Ginger's desk with the large 6' 4" Limelight standing tall behind him against the door.

[/center]

Savich: So do we have a deal here or not?

Ginger: I ... I don't know yet!

Nicholas shakes his head and chuckles to himself.

[/center]

Savich: You--You don't know? Hah! Hey big guy, the Chairman doesn't know! HAH!

He tries to play it off as it's funny, but Limelight doesn't crack a smile at all. Nicholas turns back around to Ginger and puts his hands back down on the desk before slowly lowering himself down into a chair.

[/center]

Savich: So, you don't know? Now tell me, how are you the Chairman of this place and you can't make a decision on your own?

Ginger: Now hold on! i most certainly can make my own decisions! However in this case, it's not mine to make yet!

Savich: And why is that!?

Ginger: Because I don't think the papers are all finalized! Hell, right now, you two shouldn't even be here without backstage passes!

Savich: . . . .What in the hell is THAT supposed to mean?

Ginger: You and Limelight don't technically even have ACW contracts yet!

Limelights eyes open wide while Savich just seems to continue to look on into Gingers eyes. Ginger sits there, obviously waiting for an angry retort--but he gets nothing.

[/center]

Ginger: Look, I know you're probably angry about that and all but it's not my fault at all! There are little things in there that all need to be double checked and finalized first before we can just grant you it!

Savich: Then what did I agree to?

Ginger: You agreed to be in talks about signing a contract...

There is silence in the room. After a few awkward moments, a deep sigh is let out from Limelight. Ginger looks up at the man for a few moments until Nicholas says something.

[/center]

Savich: So you're telling me that Limelight cant wrestle a match in ACW until he has a contract?

Ginger: That's---That's exactly what I'm saying.

Savich: AND....you're also saying that we've been here since Ragnarok, without one of those contracts?

Ginger: Uhh...yes.

Savich: SO WHAT YOU ARE TELLING ME GINGER, IS THAT YOU AND JAY ZERO CAN HOLD LIMELIGHT AND I LIABLE FOR ANY INJURIES HE COULD HAVE SUFFERED AT RAGNAROK BECAUSE WE DIDN'T HAVE A CONTRACT?!

As he begins to yell out at Ginger, he stands and pushes his chair out from underneath him. While he gets riled up, Limelight steps forward and looks down at Ginger with a scowl on his face.

[/center]

Ginger: I-- uhh

Savich: AND IF THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE TELLING ME GINGER, THEN YOU SURE AS HELL BETTER FIND A GOOD DOCTOR! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO BE MY NEW BOSS DOESN'T MEAN THAT I'M NOT AFRAID TO SICK THIS 320 POUND MONSTER ON YOU!

Limelight growls with a deep tone and Ginger is becoming quite uncomfortable in this situation as he's being surrounded by the two men.

[/center]

Savich: SO GINGER I HIGHLY SUGGEST THA--

Ginger: Hold on! Enough! --Just, stop!

Savich stops himself from screaming and listens to what Ginger has to say. His face is still red with anger.

[/center]

Ginger: ... Don't you worry a single---a, uh...a single bit!

He begins to stumble over his words, glancing over at Limelight every now and then who is still hanging over him like a hawk.

[/center]

Ginger: We will not hold you liable at all because---well Jay's not hurt! He should be as good as new!

Savich: ... And this is supposed to be good news?! Are you saying that Limelight didn't get the job DONE?!

Limelight growls at Ginger again who makes him fidget in his chair.

[/center]

Ginger: Uhh no! No! Not at all! What--I'm trying to say is that there's no worry about ACW charging you for endangering the welfare of one of my wrestlers! But--don't you worry! I will personally make sure that those contracts are finished quickly. And once they are, I guarantee that Limelight will get his debut match!

Savich: Against who?

Ginger pauses.

[/center]

Ginger: Um, what?

Savich: I said. . . Against who?

Ginger: Well--Well I'm not sure!

Savich: Well if you can't make up your own damn mind, then take this into consideration! The 6' 4" tall beast from Portland--Limelight! Verses the measly 190 pound twig Jay Zero! Well--once he returns that is!

Limelight begins to smile a little bit. Ginger nods his head and considers the idea.

[/center]

Ginger: Well that's a great idea and all, but --- what do you mean "when he returns?"

Savich: . . .You saw! He got chokeslammed off the stage! Whenever he returns from hiding in his little hole, then I want that matched booked!

Ginger: Didn't you hear? Jay's already in the building!

Nicholas' eyes light up as he begins to smile as well. He looks up at Limelight and a short laugh breaks out from him.

[/center]

Savich: If you'll excuse us Ginger---I, umm I believe we're late for something. Let's go big guy!

Nicholas motions for Limelight to come with him and exit the room. Ginger then thinks of the worse.

[/center]

Ginger: Wait! He's my Light Heavyweight Champion!

Savich: Yes, and?

Ginger: Well---please don't tell me that you're going to go hurt him again! He needs to be in tip-top shape to defend!

Savich looks up at Limelight and then back at Ginger.

[/center]

Savich: Alright, then I won't tell you. Good day....boss!

Savich laughs as he opens the door for Limelight and then exits shortly after him. Ginger shakes his head as the scene begins to fade out.

[/center]

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

Segment: '10%' by MoJo

Mo: "There is no way in hell...I mean what the heck!? ARE YOU FUCKIN' BLIND!?"

Mo Kincain can be seen in the backstage area of the ACW Arena. Various stagehands and workers pass by, scuttling around to ensure the show runs as smoothly as Ginger has demanded! Mo looks clearly annoyed as he clutches his cell phone to his ear, whatever the other person is saying to him, Mo clearly doesn't approve.

Mo: "No, no, no ,no, fucking NO! How in the hell do you figure that one? What I need to do is get me a rematch with a match official that can actually SEE properly!"

Mo paces back and forth along the hallyway as various people scuttle around him like ants in an ant-farm. Some are stagehands, some staff members and some....well I don't even know where the heck these guys came from, I mean who the heck is that guy!? Can someone please check his ID!

Mo: "What the FUCK!?"

In an explosion of rage and frustration, Mo lashes out, kicking a nearby Water Cooler with all his might. Despite hitting it with all of his strength, the water cooler fails to budge. The cooler shudders slightly, but due in part to being almost completely full, and due in part to Mo not actually being as tough as he thought he was, the water cooler feels no pain! (Like The Terminator!) Something, which unfortunately can't be said for Mo's right foot.
Mo hope around for a few seconds on his left foot, whilst clutching his right foot with one hand and trying to keep the phone clasped to his ear with the other.

Mo: "No, no, no, I know the show has already started, but surely you can do something, I mean maybe a dark match or something!?"

A few more seconds pass while Mo listens to what;s being said on the other end of the phone.

Mo: "So what the fuck do I pay you for!? Ten percent every month and all you can do is a debut match against...Monsters Inc or something, which incidentally, we GOT SCREWED OUT OF!"

Mo listens some more, still continuing to pace around the hallway like a nutjob.

Mo: "Yeah well, that one doesn't count as far as we're concerned. We're undefeated, well at least in FAIR matches we are anyway!"

There's a brief pause.

Mo: "Okay, well do something for Thursday, or you'll be finding yourself some new clients..."

There's another brief pause.

Mo: "Good, I'm glad to hear it....Yeah okay, will do....Yeah, yeah, okay.....Yeah I know, Okay, I love you too Mum!"

Fade.

[Alicia "Atomic" Kitsune]

A Fitting Send-Off
Alex Richmond

We open to the familiar scene of Charlotte King facing the camera, mic in hand and wrestler at her side. In this particular case the wrestler is none other than Entourage member – Alex Richmond. He is clearly ready for his match as he is sporting his entrance robe rather than his usual tailored suit. Rather than wasting any time with general chit chat, Charlotte jumps straight into her questions.

Charlotte: Firstly I’d like to talk to you about Ragnarok – seeing as we haven’t seen you since the stables Wargames match. How did you feel coming out of that match?

Richmond: Well obviously tapping out and losing the ‘Raj the match was an awful occurrence and I felt terrible but in the end you just gotta deal with it and move on because in the end, despite two losses now – even though one wasn’t my fault and will be avenged – Alex Richmond’s stock has never been higher!! I’m on the biggest damn stage in the entire WORLD and you know what? I’m shining! It won’t be long before I’m strapping some gold around this magnificent waist – and that’s a guarantee!

Charlotte: What do you mean by “and will be avenged”?

Richmond: As of right now Charlotte – that’s my own little secret; but you can be certain that your question will be answered on Thursday. There ya go “Putrid Fox” and Ken Dante – that’s your one and only warning!!

Charlotte: Well, to the matter in hand - tonight you face Silencio and, as I’m sure you’ve heard, this will be his last within ACW – does this change how you’d approach such a match?

Richmond: Wait, wait, WAIT! His last match? So...after I finish beating him there’s going to be no more flippy Mexican in ACW?

Charlotte: Well, if you’ve ever watched a Silencio match you’d realise he’s far from the typical Mexican luchadore. In fact--

Richmond: Did I ask for his life story? – NO! Fact of the matter is – this changes EVERYTHING! The man can’t simply have a standard ass-whooping for his last ever ACW match – it’s gonna have to be something special! Something neither he or the fans will ever forget! You see Charlotte – Alex Richmond is a generous man. Tonight, in his last match ever, Silencio is going to experience the patented Alex Richmond “Big Match Feeling!!” It’ll be the highlight of his worthless career and I, being the generous guy I am, will make sure that tonight not only does Silencio’s ACW career comes to an end – but his entire career comes to an end!! It’ll be the greatest moment of his LIFE Charlotte – something he will NEVER forget and he will finally understand what it means to be centre of attention! It will like being ME for the evening, and you can guarantee by the end of it all he will KNOW why Money Talks!

On that note Richmond smirks at the camera and walks off, leaving Charlotte centre stage on her own.

Fade to Black.