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| Location: | Arena: | Date: | Attendence: | Event Rating: |
| Mount Vernon High School Gymnasium | Alexandria, Virginia | 05/31/05 | 540 |
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| Introduction |
| [It's been over three years, but Riptide and the AWA have finally returned! The Mount Vernon High School gymnasium is packed to its maximum capacity, and even a few signs have found their way into the school's athletic facilities:] [The crowd is rowdy, randy, and revved with anticipation as the lights slowly dim until the gymnasium is cloaked in darkness. "We Die Young" by Alice in Chains blares over the adequate sound system, and the fans come to their feet. J.J. Jackson, Cliff Anderson, and an unknown man make their way out from the back and take seats at the announcer's table at ringside.] J.J. Jackson:: AWA is in the hiz-ouse! Cliff Anderson:: Welcome to the return of the Tidal Wave, ladies and gents! The AWA is back, and we're gonna tear the roof off this place! I'm Cliff Anderson, along with J.J. Jackson and... Oxford Flanigan:: Oxford Flanigan here! I'm pleased to be making by big AWA debut here tonight as the NEW play-by-play man on Riptide! I must say that we've got a stupendous broadcast lined up for the adoring public on this fine evening. [Jackson and Anderson look at their new colleague with disgust, but stay silent as he begins his rundown of tonight's show.] Oxford Flanigan:: In tonight's main event, the AWA Heavyweight Championship will be on the line a Pain Games match of epic proportions! The rules are still unclear for this fantastic bout, but we do know that... Cliff Anderson:: Actually, Oxford, it's for the Atlantic Championship, and the rules of the match have been made very clear. Ten men enter, one man leaves... [Anderson is interrupted in mid-sentence by...] |
| Richard Cormier announces the AWA's new Commissioner. |
| [..."All in the Suit that you Wear" by Stone Temple Pilots. The AWA owner, Richard Cormier, steps out from behind the curtain and makes his way down to the ring. The fans give him his fair share of boos, but Cormier's smile doesn't budge an inch. Grabbing a microphone, he waits for his music to cut out before speaking.] Richard Cormier:: Well, well, well! Look who's back! Me! Richard Cormier! [Cormier puts on a painfully exaggerated grin as he absorbs the boos and taunts from the fans. He let's the crowd settle down a bit before speaking again.] Richard Cormier:: Are you done yet? [Once again, the crowd is whipped into a hateful frenzy, and this time Cormier starts laughing. After a few minutes, Cormier has the opportunity to speak again.] Richard Cormier:: D{bleep}, is it good to be back! But I'm not out here to steal the show...well, not yet, anyhow. I'm out here because I've got an announcement to make regarding the position of AWA Commissioner. You see, I've looked long and hard for the perfect candidate to fill this position, and after countless hours of work, I think I've finally found him. [The crowd begins to stir with anticipation. They've heard the rumors, and a few even yell out the rumored individual's name.] Richard Cormier:: I was searching for a man with experience. I was searching for a man with a legacy. I was searching for a man with dedication...a man that could lay down the law and enforce it with his own two hands! I was searching for somebody nothing short of phenomenal... [The crowd comes to their feet, heads turned towards the entrance.] Richard Cormier:: I think you know the guy, so let me bring him out here. Ladies and gentlemen...I give to you...the AWA's new Commissioner...Biiiiiillyyyyyyy Sssssssss... Unknown Voice:: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Whoa! Whoa, whoa...whoa. Whoa! Now Richard, I don’t know who this Billy person is, but I am the new Commissioner! And while the door to my office does read “S-U-H-G-S,” the name in front is W. William! And tonight I christen a new era in the AWA! [A good-sized man wearing a mis-matched suit walks out onto the ramp with a microphone gripped tightly in his fist. He looks very cleancut...almost border-line sleazy, with his dirty blonde hair is combed over to one side.] J.J. Jackson:: Hey, Cliffy, thass Billy Suggs! Cliff Anderson:: Yes, it certainly does appear to be the Backwoods Barracuda. [Cormier stands in the ring with a smile plastered across his kisser as the AWA's new Commissioner makes his way down to the ring, being mocked every step of the way.] W. William Suhgs:: Now, we’ve all made mistakes in the past, and mine number many. I sat...for over a year...in a Mexican prison subsisting on little more than soggy sopopias and poorly rolled burritos. I mean, c’mon..the good stuff would always spill out the end and onto the floor! But during such a long incarceration, you have some time to reflect on who you are, and who you’d like to be. AND I HATED WHO I WAS! So there was great sadness in knowing that I had seen the light too late, for there was little hope of ever being a free man again. I rapidly progressed into a depressed dementia, and when the guards could no longer stand my loud ramblings in the middle of the night, I was transferred to a third-rate mental health facility in Tijuana. My condition worsened over the next several months and I could feel death was near...or at the very least a bad case of the runs. [The crowd appears to be a little grossed out by his last comment, but Suhgs continues.] W. William Suhgs:: But I was given new hope when one day, I had a visitor. It was my good friend and former mentor, our own Richard Cormier. In the ultimate act of goodwill, Richard selflessly paid my bail...150 pesos...and just like that I was on my way back to good 'ol Westpine, Oregon, a changed man. Cliff Anderson:: Is it even possible to be bailed out of a mental hospital? Oxford Flanigan:: No. No, it's not. W. William Suhgs:: Nevertheless, I am, and always will be, grateful to Richard for rescuing me. So when Richard asked me to be the Commissioner for the new AWA, I felt I had a moral obligation. [Suhgs embraces Cormier with a sloppy hug as the fans boo. Cormier puts on smile, but seems overly eager to be rid of his new Commissioner's grip.] W. William Suhgs:: So here I am, changed for the better and back in the business that I love. However...I have some unfinished business. My old life may be no more, but I need some closure...I need to bury the memory of Billy Suggs forever. So, in my first official act as Commissioner, I am declaring...next week on Riptide...a Billy Suggs...GOING OUT OF BUSINESS SALE! [W. William's "sale" is met by a mixed reaction of cheers, boos, and laughter as Suhgs gazes around with a puzzled look on his face.] W. William Suhgs:: But I'm feeling generous, so tonight, you're all in for a little treat. Tonight, I'm going to give a little teaser for the big sale next week. That's right...tonight, instead of a standard match...it will be Brian Zane vs. Mr. Ounce...in a Can of Beer on a Pole Match! [Suhgs displays a look of pride, but Cormier simply frowns.] W. William Suhgs:: And to win this grand match, not only do you have to retrieve the beer from the pole. You have to chug the whole thing! [With that, Suhgs drops the mic and turns to leave, but Cormier has other plans.] Richard Cormier:: Oh, William. Just one more thing. (fumbles around in his pocket) If you're going to be the AWA Commissioner, you've got to represent the AWA properly. In order to do this, you need something to set you apart from the rest of the swine back there. I was thinking something along the lines of a badge...but everybody knows that badges are for sissies. So I did you one better. To symbolize you as the AWA Commissioner, I got you...this! [Cormier whips a crudely folded black hat out of his pocket and holds it up for all to see. Embroidered across the front in dark red are three letters...A.W.A. The hat looks like it couldn't have cost more than a couple of dollars to produce, but Suhgs appears to be bewitched by the crooked cap. The crowd laughs as he gently fits the headgear onto his melon. Puffing out his chest, Suhgs struts to the backstage area.] Cliff Anderson:: A Can of Beer on a Pole Match? This should certainly be interesting. But we've got to take a commercial break... |
| Commercial Break |
| [The camera opens on a mean city street. It is the middle of the day, but the
mood is midnight. Flava Flav is standing alone on an empty corner wearing a
giant wall clock around his neck the reads "Cluck You." He fake freestyles this quick advert:] Flava Flav:: Ay yo Chuck! Try your luck at CluckZilla Arcade for a buck, Just shuck and jive the puck on Air Hockey live, Shoot the duck ,and fly a jet, and drive the giant tractor truck. Our games never suck so try your luck at CluckZilla!!! [Flava Flav gets serious for a moment. He looks into the camera and says solemnly with the flare of a forgotten rap star:] Flava Flav:: Don't be a schmuck, get unstuck from the muck and shuck to CluckZilla. For a buck you'll be struck with good luck. Now featuring a ride on the world's largest tractor truck. [The camera pulls back and reveals a police officer standing on the corner with Flava Flav. The officer removes handcuffs from his belt and clasps them around Flava's wrists. As he is escorted into the police car, Flava is heard mumbling, but the final word is cut off by the sound of police sirens.] Flava Flav:: Aw, f... [As the cop car drives away the final promotional message is displayed on the screen in bright red and blue flashing letters.] [The scene fades out.] |
| Can of Beer on a Pole Match: Brian Zane vs. 40 oz |
 |
 6'2" 225 lbs. Grappler 0/0/0 |  | 6'6" 240 lbs. Powerhouse 0/0/0 |
| [Riptide returns with 40 oz already standing in the ring awaiting his opponent.] Oxford Flanigan:: During the commercial break, Forty Ounce made his way out to the ring. He certainly is a well-built chap. ["I Believe in a Thing Called Love" by the Darkness begins as the light begin to flicker. "The Perfect Prima Donna" emerges from the back in his custom black robe and slowly enters the ring. He slowly spins around once in the ring, earning a few boos here and there.] J.J. Jackson:: Look at dis punk! Y'know somethin', bro, we used ta cap suckas like dis where I came from! [The referee calls for the bell, and the match begins. Brian Zane uses his superior grappling skills to take his large opponent to the mat. Zane begins working him over with a variety of agonizing ground holds.] Oxford Flanigan:: Oh my! Mr. Zane appears to have Mr. Ounce in a Twisty-Leg Calf Stretcher! Cliff Anderson:: ...better known to wrestling fans as a Figure-Four Leglock. [After toying with his opponent for a few minutes, Zane rocks the big man with three quick jabs, followed by a short dance and a big roundhouse that drops 40 oz to the mat.] Cliff Anderson:: He calls that the Seawalk Jab Combo! J.J. Jackson:: Da Seawalk?! Dat boy's a d{bleep} tief! I inventonated dat dance when I was growin' up in da hood! [Zane waits for his opponent to stand, then plants him with Perfection. With his opponent down in the ring, Zane easily climbs the ropes and reaches the can of beer atop the pole.] Cliff Anderson:: Brian Zane has this match well in hand. Now, all he has to do is down that fine can of Natural Ice and this match is in the bag. [Zane looks disgusted by the beverage, but he reluctantly pops the top open and lifts the can to his mouth to take a sip. As he does so, the camera cuts away to a pre-recorded shot of the crowd.] Cliff Anderson:: Well, he didn't necessarily chug it, but this match is over. Oh, and he just added some threw some salt on the wounds by spitting a mouthful of brew into 40 oz's face! Oxford Flanigan:: I can't believe this promotion allows beer swilling to be broadcast in such a distasteful manner... J.J. Jackson:: B{bleep}, shut yo mouth 'fo I stab yo fat a{bleep}! [The shot finally returns to the ring, where the Prima Donna is standing center stage, posing for his not-so-adoring crowd.] Jolly Roger:: Aargh! Brian Zane be yer winner via beer drinkin' an' swashbucklin'! Aargh! |
| Out Cold |
| [The shot switches to the backstage area where AWA newcomer Cody Duckett is found laid out flat on his back. There's a horribly dented steel chair a few feet away from his body, and there are a pair of Minnesota quarters covering his closed eyes, tails side up.] J.J. Jackson:: Looks like that boy got punked out, Cliffy! Oxford Flanigan:: My word, who could have done such a thing? Cliff Anderson:: I'm not sure, my niave friend, but I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. [Medical attention rushes onto the scene as the shot fades back into the arena.] |
| The Doctor's Office Guest: Josh McCool |
| [When the camera pans back to the ring, the mat is covered by a fine red fabric. Inside the ring is a gynecological chair and a wooden table with an old, black medical bag on it. The entire arena is dark save for the ring, which is illuminated by an old, creaky light. Dr. Payne is waiting calmly in the ring with a pleasant smile on his face as a sign that reads "The Doctor's Office" hangs over his head. The high school gymnasium is silent as they await the words of the doctor.] Dr. Payne:: Ladies and geni{bleep}s, I'd like to welcome you all to my own personal Doctor's Office! [The crowd remains silent as some of the younger children in attendence appear to be frightened of the world's first, and only, wrestling gynecologist.] Dr. Payne:: After six months of absolute h{bleep} down in Mexico, Dr. Payne has arrived in the Atlantic Wrestling Association to practice his gynecological skills on the whole lot of va{bleep}s in the back! And speaking of va{bleep}s, let me bring one of them out here right now! Ladies and geni{bleep}s, I give to you...Josh McCool. [After a lackluster introduction by Payne, a ridiculously edited version of "Hair of the Dog" by Nazareth begins to play over the speakers in the tiny gymnasium. The crowd comes to their feet in recognition of the music. Seconds later, a pumped up Josh McCool bursts out from the back, and the cheers become a bit louder. McCool makes his way down to the ring with microphone in hand.] Oxford Flanigan:: Here he is, folks. It's the "Son of a Gun" Josh McCool! Cliff Anderson:: I can't believe the Committee won't let us say S.O.B. on the air... Dr. Payne:: Okay, okay! Cut that offensive music! I've got some very important questions to get to! [The music cuts out abruptly as McCool stands in the ring only a few feet away from the host of the Doctor's Office.] Dr. Payne:: Okay, Mr. McCool, after Richard Cormier closed the doors of the original AWA, you disappeared. I think the first question everybody has been wondering is where have you been, and what have you been up to?! Josh McCool:: Well...I just went home for a while, kind of let myself go, and then I got a call from a place called the SWF. So I just kind of tooled around there for a while, but to be honest with you, the SWF management was a bunch of d{bleep}bags. So I bailed, went home, got my degree, and now here I am...again. Dr. Payne:: I didn't ask for your life story, big man. Now...moving on, you will be competing in tonight’s Pain Games match against eight of the AWA's so-called competitors, and the man who will win tonight’s match, thus capturing the Atlantic Championship, ME, Dr. Payne! How does it feel to know you are going to be one of the first in the AWA to have the honor of falling before the fatal fury of Sweet Payne?! [There are a few boos from the crowd upon hearing this, but McCool raises the mic to his mouth without missing a beat.] Josh McCool:: Ha ha ha, that's pretty funny. Well, {bleep}kie boy, I'm certainly looking forward to the Pain Games match. I think this is my opportunity to make a statement and take control of that Atlantic Championship. But I would be lying to you if I said I didn't have my eye on that Heavyweight belt. And, no offense, Mr. Payne...oh, is it Doctor...eh, same difference...but I have to admit that you're not really my highest priority. Kartier, Mandrake, and that bast{bleep} Sadistic are the guys that have been at it for years, and while I respect them, that doesn't mean I'm taking it easy on them...or you. Dr. Payne:: (mockingly) Oooooh! I'm scared...I'm quivering like a little va{bleep}! Why is it that you think you should be allowed in the same match as myself, Mr. McCool? I mean, really? What qualifies you to even think you're worthy of stepping in the ring with myself, honestly? Josh McCool:: Oh, boy...you're so ridiculous...you are truly a ludicrous human being. What qualifies me? Let me tell you. 10-0, that's what qualifies me. I've taken the lumps in the ring...molesting menopausal women doesn't quite cut it, Sally. Cliff Anderson:: This doesn't look good. I think things are starting to get personal, here. I hope Bruce Vohland has his crew ready, because they might need to break up a fight here in a second. Dr. Payne:: Well, Mr. 10-0, any final words for the other competitors in the match tonight? I mean, I know you won’t say anything to me while I’m standing right here, not unless you want to be the first to experience the vaginal claw, but feel free to antagonize anybody else you want too. Josh McCool:: You know, I would just pound your head in right now, but I have direct orders from people a lot more powerful than you that I'm to keep it civil. [The crowd pops upon hearing McCool's threat.] Dr. Payne:: Well, thank you SOOO much for keeping it civil...Oh. Mr. McCool, one last question on a note relating to my profession. I've been wondering what type of shape, after giving birth to such a hulking specimen of vene{bleep} disease such as your self, is your mother’s vag{bleep} in? Josh McCool:: That's it, b{bleep}-face, I'm gonna kick your a{bleep} right now... [The crowd goes "banana" as McCool drops his mic to the ground with a thud and slowly stalks Dr. Payne back into the corner.] J.J. Jackson:: That boy's fixin' fo' an a{bleep}-whippin'!  ["Feel So Numb" by Rob Zombie cuts through the arena, and everybody in the arena stops what they're doing...even the two men in the ring. All eyes go towards the entrance as the curtain begins to move. Suddenly, out steps the 7'5" German monster known only as Machine!] Oxford Flanigan:: Oh...my...gosh!!! Cliff Anderson:: It's Machine...and he's even bigger than I remember! What in G{bleep}'s name is he doing here?! [Machine slowly lumbers towards the ring as McCool and Payne both watch the enormous man. Machine pulls himself up onto the ring apron and prepares to step over the top rope, but McCool goes to meet him before he can do so. Unfortunately for McCool, somebody is there to meet him before he can meet Machine. The sickening thud of a steel chair bending across human flesh can be heard as McCool drops to his knees. Standing behind the downed McCool is a well-built man with long, jet-black hair and a freshly-bent steel chair. He continues his assault on McCool as Machine enters the ring and the lights flash back on all around the arena. Apparantly too violent for the PBS affiliate, the shot switches over to a pre-recorded view of the crowd, but the audio continues.] Cliff Anderson:: That's...that's James Nightbane! James Nightbane is BACK in the AWA! Oxford Flanigan:: This violence is not necessary, and I think I feel ill! J.J. Jackson:: Looks like Machine an' Nightbang are back, an' they mean bidness! [When the camera finally returns to the ring, Payne is nowhere to be seen, and Nightbane and Machine are making their way to the backstage area. McCool is lying motionless in the ring with a grotesquely deformed steel chair positioned just to the right of his mangled body. A pair of quarters have been placed over his closed eyelids, and it doesn't take a brain surgeon to realize that they're probably of the Minnesota variety. However, the cameraman does an excellent job of filming so that the blood making the air resulting from McCool's nasty head wound is kept to a minimum.] Oxford Flanigan:: This is disgusting. I suggest we go to a commercial break immediately! |
| Commercial Break |
| [The scene opens inside of a well-taken-care-of kitchen. The floor is shiny to look at, the counters are cleared off except for a few kitchen appliances, a blender, a food processor, and some utensils. A gray-haired woman who looks to be in her fifties walks out. She is reasonably attractive for her age, and is wearing a blue suit with a green apron. Her gray hair sparkles in the sunlight that fills the kitchen and she has a grandmotherly grin as she starts to speak.] Old Woman:: Hello, everyone. How often have you looked at your kitchen and wondered: What can I do with this mess? Where can I put my utensils? Well, my husband, Zeke, has invented a way to do just that, but don't tell him I'm giving away his secret. [The old woman begins chuckling, but she's interrupted from a male voice from the other room.] Zeke:: WHAT THE H{bleep}, DORIS! ARE YOU TRYIN' TO SELL MY CRAP ON THE T.V. AGAIN?! Doris:: NO, YOU OLD DIRTBAG! Zeke:: WHAT?! COME'RE YOU OLD HAG! [Doris walks into the other room. Banging, yelling, and other assorted noises can be heard. Ten seconds later, Doris comes back into the picture with her hair messed up and her apron torn. She looks directly into the camera with an agitated scowl.] Doris:: The old bas{bleep} doesn't want me to sell his sh{bleep}, so pi{bleep} off. [Doris slowly turns and stomps back out of the kitchen.] Narrator:: Zeke's Kitchen Care. Made with love by Zeke and Doris. [Fade to black.] |
| Cormier's Chosen Champion |
| [Riptide returns inside of Richard Cormier's portable office. He's sitting behind a grand desk in a plush leather chair, and his feet are propped up on the corner of said desk. His fingers are clasped behind his head, and he looks to be in blissful relaxation. He appears to be speaking to somebody just off-camera.] Richard Cormier:: Look, we've already gone over this a million times. I NEED you in that Pain Games match. What I don't need, is you winning it. Like I told you earlier today...and yesterday...and the day before that, I'm only putting you in this match because of your star power. The fans recognize you. You're a big name. That's why I NEED you in this match. [The man off-camera mutters something to Cormier, but it's inaudible.] Richard Cormier:: Yes! I don't want you to win this. I've got bigger plans for you. But don't make it obvious. Put on a good show, and when the time is right, eliminate yourself. I need as many big name stars in this match as possible, no matter what the cost. [Some more inaudible muttering is heard off-screen.] Richard Cormier:: That's right. You throw this match, and I'll make sure you're in the Heavyweight Championship match at Pain Games. I'll make sure that you're the Chosen Champion....MY Chosen Champion. [There's a determined twinkle in Cormier's eye as his face splits into a smile. An evil, powerful smile.] |
| Demands |
| [Cormier continues to sit at his desk as the door to his office slowly opens, then slams shut. Cormier continues to stare off into space, but he's quickly snapped back into reality as the door swings open once again.] Richard Cormier:: Wha...? What in the h{bleep} are you doing here?! [James Nightbane storms into view and slams his fists down on Cormier's desk, causing one of the legs to buckle and give way. The desk lurches forward, dumping a few stacks of paperwork on the ground. Cormier is clearly irritated as he stares up at Nightbane. Nightbane's silent giant, Machine, slowly walks into view and stands behind the Dark One with his arms folded across his chest.] James Nightbane:: Mr. Cormier, it would appear that you've got a bit of a problem on your hands, and I think I've got just the solution! [Cormier looks confused as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his once-level desk.] Richard Cormier:: And what problem might that be, if you don't mind my asking? James Nightbane:: (grinning) Well, rumor has it that two of your stars have fallen...ill...and won't be able to compete tonight. Cody Duckett fell very ill earlier tonight. And I think the sickness is contagious, as Josh McCool was just diagnosed not more than five minutes ago! Richard Cormier:: Sickness? A sickness?! What kinda sickness?! Like the flu, or something? James Nightbane:: Yeah, I think that's the one! Anyways, those to fruits aren't gonna be able to compete tonight, leaving you two wrestlers short of a full show. And I think I've found two guys that are just perfect to take their spots! Richard Cormier:: Really?! And who might that be? [Nightbane holds his hands out, motioning towards himself and Machine, but Cormier just looks at them with an expressionless stare.] Richard Cormier:: Well, are you gonna answer me? Who'd you find? James Nightbane:: Um...you're...uh...you're lookin' at 'em. Me and Machine, here. Richard Cormier:: Oh, right. Yeah, sure. If those two wanna be wimps and bow out of our big re-opening show because of some stupid little stomach virus, then by all means. You can have their spots. But...that's only if they don't show up. [Nightbane nods happily as he and Machine exit the AWA Owner's office.] |
| Triple Threat Ladder Match: The Mad Marquis vs. Machine vs. Revilation | Television Championship |
|
5'11" 199 lbs. Extremist 0/0/0 | |  7'5" 432 lbs. Powerhouse 4/6/0 | |  6'2" 260 lbs. Extremist 5/6/0 |
|
Cliff Anderson:: We've just received a report from the medical crew that Cody Duckett has suffered a concussion and won't be competing tonight. Instead, Machine will be taking his place. [The Marquis de Fistofpholes' crazy circus music starts up as a small procession of S&M slaves walk out from the back, dressed up in studs and black leather. Riding atop the backs of four of his gorgeous female slaves is the Marquis, who has his crooked nose high in the air. It's almost as if he can smell the stares from the crowd that his sexual parade is drawing. The loyal sex slaves carry their "daddy" around the ladder set up in the aisle and stop just short of the ring as the Marquis steps gracefully onto the ring apron and enters the ring.] J.J. Jackson:: Dat is one whack white boy... Oxford Flanigan:: Please refrain from any racial comments, my colored friend. [Suddenly, the lights extinguish, and the only lighting in the gymnasium has formed into a crude path along the entryway. "Shove It" by the Deftones starts up, and out walks Revilation. He's garbed in a heavy black robe, and in his right hand is the Book of Revilation. Upon entering the ring, he drops to his knees and opens his book as a lone spotlight follows a jagged path towards him.] Cliff Anderson:: Look at the Marquis. It would appear that he's jealous of the spotlight being directed towards Revilation. J.J. Jackson:: The Marquis juss suckapunched Revilashun from da back! Dat's a cheapshot, yo! [Sure enough, the Marquis has attacked his opponent from behind, and has started laying a merciless beating on him. "The Beautiful People" by Marilyn Manson blasts over the speakers of the tiny gym, and the giant German slowly creeps out from the back. In the ring, the Marquis has applied a mandible claw/body scissors combination on Revilation, and is furiously rubbing himself against the masked man. Machine finally reaches the ring and steps over the top rope.] J.J. Jackson:: Dat is one big muthuh! [Machine grabs the Marquis by the throat and lifts him off the ground away from Revilation, then tosses him over the top rope with all the care of an airline baggage handler. Machine then goes straight after Revilation with a relentless fury, beating him with a series of punches and kicks until he has Revilation down in the corner.] Cliff Anderson:: Good grief! I think Machine is trying to kill Revilation! He's choking the life out of him in the corner! [Outside the ring, the Marquis glances back towards the ladder and begins walking towards it as if drawn like an insect towards light. He begins stroking the smooth metal surface of the ladder, and his mannerisms clearly show his excitement.] Cliff Anderson:: It should be noted that the Marquis lost a large chunk of his left ear in a previous ladder match... Oxford Flanigan:: This Marquis character is nothing but a twisted freak! He's mad, I tell you. Mad! [The Marquis drags the ladder into the ring as Machine continues working over Revilation in the corner. Building a head of steam, the Marquis charges Machine at full speed with the ladder in front of him and collides directly into the big man's back. Machine stumbles forward, but the Marquis is jarred in such a manner that he tumbles to the outside of the ring through the bottom and middle rope. Many of the fans laugh as the Marquis tries to clear the cobwebs on the arena floor.] Cliff Anderson:: Well, it looks like Revilation has finally escaped the clutches of the big Machine and is going to work on him with that steel ladder. [Revilation drills the big man continually with the ladder, but they only seem to daze the big man. Meanwhile, on the outside of the ring, the little man's eyes begin darting excitedly back and forth, and he hops to his feet and begins digging under the ring for something...] Oxford Flanigan:: Mad, I tell you! Simply mad! [Revilation still struggles to knock the big man off his feet as the Mad Marquis pulls a black leather whip out from beneath the ring! The fans watch curiously as he slides back into the ring.] J.J. Jackson:: What'in da h{bleep} was a whip doin' unduh da ring? Cliff Anderson:: Oh, don't you know? There are all sorts of things under the ring. Bowling balls, garbage cans, steel chairs, ladders, fire extinquishers... [The Mad Marquis excitedly prances up behind Machine with his whip and lays into him for all he's worth! Machine flinches slightly, then slowly turns to face little aristocrat. The madman points a commanding finger to the mat, ordering the giant to get on his hands and knees, but Machine simply stares at him, confused. While this is happening, Revilation has set the ladder up in the middle of the ring and begun climbing.] Cliff Anderson:: Revilation almost has the Television Championship! It's within his grasp! [The belt dangles around in the air as the crowd lets out a collective gasp. Machine grabs the Mad Marquis by the throat, lifts him into the air and spins him for a chokeslam, but in the act of spinning him, he smashes him into the ladder! The ladder tips sideways, and Revilation lands in the ropes, tangling himself up horribly. Machine looks at the carnage he's created as the fans cheer.] J.J. Jackson:: I think he kilt dat crazy white boy! [Machine slowly sets the ladder up near the middle of the ring and begins to climb. Revilation finally untangles himself from the ropes and quickly ascends the opposite side. Both men reach the top and begin trading blows. As they're doing so, the Mad Marquis regains his senses and pulls himself up. In what could be described as one of the ill-advised moves in wrestling history, the Mad Marquis bounces off the ropes and administers a diving headbutt into the side of the ladder. The ladder wobbles, then slowly tips sideways, pitching both men over the top rope to the arena floor!] Cliff Anderson:: Dear Lord! I think the Marquis has just knocked himself silly! And Machine and Revilation are down for the count! Crowd:: Holy sh*t! Holy sh*t! J.J. Jackson:: Ha ha! Censa that, PBS affilorate! [Inside the ring, the Marquis finally comes to, then sets up the ladder and climbs to the top. Reaching up, he secures the belt and pulls it free, winning the match! His circus music begins to play as some fans boo and others laugh.] Cliff Anderson:: Ladies and gents, we've got a new Television Champion! The Marquis de Fistopholes! J.J. Jackson:: Yeah, yeah, but it don' look like Revilashun is finisht juss yet. [Revilation is back in the ring, and he's assaulting the Marquis with the ladder. After a few moments, the camera suddenly cuts away a pre-recorded shot of the crowd. Seconds later, a horrific scream is heard, followed by several others echoing it in the crowd.] Cliff Anderson:: Sweet Jesus! Revilation has just ripped his ear off! We need some medical attention out here immediately! J.J. Jackson:: Look now! Dat giant Machine's back in da ring, now! An' he's puttin' a whoopin' on Revilashun! Dis insane! [When the camera returns to the ring, Machine and Revilation can be seen brawling up the aisle, and the Marquis can be seen wiggling on the ground outside the ring as the medical staff wraps white gauze around his head. All that is left in the ring is a deformed ladder and a few bloodstains.] |
| McCool Medical Update |
| [The camera switches to the backstage area, directly outside of the medical room. Standing in front of the door is the AWA's own Douglas Baggins.] Douglas Baggins:: I've just received word from the medical team that Josh McCool has been pretty roughed up at the hands of James Nightbane and Machine. As of right now, the doctor is refusing to release him for competition, as he would risk aggrivating his injuries even further. So as of right now, it looks like McCool is out of tonight's main event. Oxford Flanigan:: Well, that's some very crummy news for all of you Son of a Gun fans out there. We're deeply sorry to hear that, but right now we must take a commmercial break. |
| Commercial Break |
| [The shot opens with what appears to be a commercial for a local car
dealership. It is cheaply produced, the film stock is blurry, and the
balloons and confetti in the background are as dull as wax paper. The
"commercial" looks as if it was cheaply put together - probably for less
than fifty dollars. A fat, explicitly cliché Mexican man stands in a circle of new cars which still have the price tags hanging in the windows. The man on screen is short, with a
thick black mustache and he wears a oversized sombrero. He speaks with a Latin accent, but his words are easily understood.] Latin Man:: Buenos dias amigos, me llamo Senior Sancho. Tengo una reservación in the AWA. A wrestler. Some people call him a giant, but I call him Elefante. We have come from La Paz, in Mexico, to offer you a spectacular deal. No no, me amigos, it is not a deal on cars, but a much better, more valuable offer. [Sancho adjusts his sombrero and lights a cigar.] Senior Sancho:: Elefante and I are in the business of protection. Now I understand well that you may be thinking, 'This Sancho is a crazy man! I am a 200-plus pound professional wrestler. I can protect myself - what in the world do I need Elefante for? [Sancho laughs a little, and then inhales on his cigar. He becomes very serious.] Senior Sancho:: Claro que sí you are strong; of course you can defend yourself. But it's no importa your strength or your pride. Elefante and I can offer you something that is invaluable in the world of professional wrestling. Anonymity. Secrecy. My giant has no alliances, he has no emotion; he works for the peso and he does so on the down-low. [One of the cars in the background begins to shake a bit as if a man off screen is grabbing at it. The wheels rock back and forth.] Senior Sancho:: My giant, Elephante, will do your bidding through me. And I will keep your information private, because I am a business man. [The car in the background is lifted off its front wheels and suddenly the viewer can see the arms of a monstrous man. Although the rest of his body is off screen, his biceps are so ridiculously huge that they completely steal the scene.] Senior Sancho:: Elefante is like no man you have ever seen. And he is also like no man you will ever see. Unless, of course, your enemy has offered me more money. [The car is dropped to the ground and the windows explode. Glass flies all over the place and the commercial comes to an end with this bumper:] |
| Old Acquaintances |
| [When Riptide returns from the break, one of the AWA's fresh new faces, Rich Verboncour, and his cheerful father, Jerry, can be seen walking down a backstage hallway. The hallway is well-lit, but the cameraman is having trouble walking backwards, stumbling over his own feet. Rich is dressed to the hilt and Jerry is in full army regalia. Out of nowhere, Reece Williams, the AWA’s most attractive backstage reporter, approaches the Verboncours with mic in hand.] Reece Williams:: Rich, Rich, could I please get a word in with you? Rich Verboncour:: Well, well, well. What do we have here, Jerry? This is one fine piece of grade "A" meat. Jerry Verboncour:: (staring at Reece in awe) Ha, ha. You didn’t have to tell Jerry, son. Jerry can see that this piece of a{bleep} is primed for a Verboncour piledrive. Reece Williams:: Excuse me! [On closer inspection, Jerry appears to be drunk. He has glassy eyes, extremely red cheeks, and he is definitely pitching a tent. Rich is too cocky to realize he just offended the sexy reporter and is staring into Reece’s beautiful green eyes.] Reece Williams:: I wanted to know whether or not you've signed your contract. [Rich slowly raises his right hand. In his hand is an AWA contract with both his and Cormier’s signatures.] Rich Verboncour:: It’s all right here, baby! We just came from Cormier’s office, and I’m now an official member of the AWA. Jerry Verboncour:: (yelling and strutting around) What do you know?! Jerry’s son...a superstar! That’s S...U...P...E...R... [Jerry stops in mid-sentence, dead in his tracks, and turns white as a ghost, even though he's as red as a fire hydrant. The camera suddenly pans around to see the newest AWA Commissioner, W. William Suhgs. As he approaches the Verboncours, he motions Reece aside and shoots Jerry a glare.] W. William Suhgs:: Well, well, well. What do we have here? Jerry Verboncour, is it? My good 'ol friend and pal... Jerry Verboncour:: (appears stunned, however, pissed) Well, if it isn’t the lesser half of an Army of Two, that Creepy Cousin f{bleep}er...Billy Suggs! W. William Suhgs:: Actually, it’s W. William Suhgs! And my involvement with Horea was a fabrication created by the AWA media. Jerry Verboncour:: Sure it was, Suuuuuhgs! Keep telling yourself that, it might someday change the fact that you had sexual relations with your transvestite cousin. Rich Verboncour:: Is this guy the loser you used to wrestle with? He needs to be knocked down a few pegs so that his a{bleep} will be less sore from the beating I’m about to give it! W. William Suhgs:: I suggest you keep your hands off of me! After all, I AM the AWA's new Commissioner. In fact, if you so put a finger on me, your short lived career will be over! Over! You hear me? Over! And you can forget about that shot at the championship in the Pain Games match tonight. Rich Verboncour:: I can’t touch you, huh? [After looking at Suhgs momentarily, Rich swipes the official AWA Commissioner hat off of the Commissioner’s head and turns it over in his hand. Rich then gurgles up the largest, most unattractive loogie into his mouth and proceeds to spit it into the hat of the Commissioner. Immediately after the nasty projectile lands into the hat, Rich places the hat back on Suhgs’ head. After placing the hat back onto the Commissioner's head, Rich presses it down firmly, making sure the spit soaks W. William’s hairy melon.] Jerry Verboncour:: (while patting Rich on the back) Ha, ha, ha! What a dumb looking CCF that Suhgs is! [Rich looks to be proud of his work. Suhgs has become violently irritated with the Verboncours; he appears to be contemplating in his head what course of action this stunt will demand. The Verboncours continue their stroll down the hallway, laughing about the current turn of events. Before they have even covered ten feet of tiled ground, Rich turns to pay one last comment to Suhgs.] Rich Verboncour:: Sorry that we had to make our chat so brief, but I have to get ready for the Pain Games match. You know, the match that I’m projected to win. (raising voice) Not only because I’m that damn good, but because I’m the best of the best to ever wrestle in the Mount Vernon High School gym! [His last comment rouses a slight reaction from the crowd.] Jerry Verboncour:: Oh, and Jerry almost forgot. Nice hat f{bleeeeep}g! [The two men continue their stroll down the hall, laughing it up. The camera pans back to Suhgs, who has an infuriated scowl on his face. The camera switches back out to the arena as Suhgs mumbles a few inaudible words to himself.] |
 | Atlantic Championship |
|
Cliff Anderson:: Well, folks, it's been a crazy night thus far, but we're finally here. The main event. Pain Games! ["Down with the Sickness" by Disturbed hits the Vernon High School gymnasium, and the crowd stands. Kris Kartier walks out from the back and stands in the entranceway. The crowd gives him a good reaction as he heads down to the ring and slides in under the bottom rope.] Cliff Anderson:: Nyghtmare's one of the guys that kickstarted this company a few years back, and these fans remember that, as you can see in their reaction. ["Money" by Pink Floyd plays over the PA system, and out walks the resident accountant, Allen Stevenson. Still dressed in his office suit, he hastily walks down to the ring with his briefcase in hand. He means business.] Oxford Flanigan:: Now look at this chap here. Here's a wrestler that these fans can look up to. He's got brains and brawn. Cliff Anderson:: Well, the latter is debatable. [The lights suddenly go dim, and "Hail to the Chief" blares over the speakers. The puzzled fans turn their attention to the entrance as a well-dressed man walks out from the back. He has a book in his hand, and he happily shakes hands with the fans on his way to the ring.] J.J. Jackson:: Dat boy sure looks familiuh... Cliff Anderson:: That's Haze! Jonathan Haze! In his time away from the AWA, he's become a Senator in Idaho. [Haze quickly scribbles down his signature in his book, then gives it away to one of the lucky fans. Despite his superficial kind nature, the fans boo him relentlessly. Haze slides into the ring and sizes up his opponents. Without warning, all of the lights in the Mount Vernon High School gymnasium go off, leaving the ringside area pitch black. A few strobe lights in the rafters begin flickering at random intervals, creating just enough light to see the faces of the match participants as they look around confused. A soft, raspy voice is heard over the house speakers.] Voice:: ...coming...it's coming...come...it's coming...it's coming... [The words continue to repeat, sometimes overlapping and getting louder in volume. Finally, one voice is heard slightly louder than the others as if to emphasize the words.] Voice:: The Virus is coming! [With the last word, loud static suddenly replaces all of the background voices. As quickly as the static began, it ends and the gymnasium lights return to their orginal brightness, leaving the men in the ring even more confused.] Oxford Flanigan:: What in the name of heaven was that all about? Cliff Anderson:: Your guess is as good as mine, but apparently a virus is coming... [After that brief interruption, senior referee Perry Dayton calls for the bell, and Pain Games is underway. The action starts off hectic with Kartier being double-teamed by Stevenson and Haze. The two work over Nyghtmare as the crowd attempts to rally behind him. On the outside of the ring, one of the fans in the front row drops a dime onto the ground. Stevenson, noticing the discarded money, becomes distracted and walks over towards the ropes, yelling at the fan.] Allen Stevenson:: You pick that money up! Go put it in the bank, you scumbag! [While Stevenson is distracted, Kartier takes Haze out with a spinebuster. Stevenson doesn't even see Kartier coming, and is hefted over the top rope to the floor.] Jolly Roger:: Aargh! 'Ol Al Stevenson has been eliminated! J.J. Jackson:: Now Mista Moneybags can get him that dime. ["Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys erupts from the speakers, and "Mr. Showtime" Mikey Wryght sprints out from the back! Upon seeing who it is, the fans let out a wave of cheers.] Cliff Anderson:: That's Mr. Showtime! He used to go by Pest, but regardless of what his name is, it looks like he's here to kick some serious... Oxford Flanigan:: ...behind! [Showtime slides into the ring as his lovely valet, Perfection, scurries behind. Showtime goes right after Haze and nails him with a clothesline, carrying both men over the top rope to the arena floor! The fans go crazy as the two men stand on the outside and begin trading lefts and rights!] Jolly Roger:: Aargh! Haze and Showtime have both met their end! The scurvy dogs! J.J. Jackson:: Thass kuh-razy! Both dem suckas is elimerated! Cliff Anderson:: As fast as he entered, he's already out of this thing! What an explosive entry by Mr. Showtime. ["Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones starts up, and the twangy intro echoes throughout the arena. "The Phenom" Billy Sadistic walks out from the back to a mixed reaction from the crowd and holds his arms out to the side. His wrists and head hang limply as the song kicks in. After a few moments, the Sadistic One raises his head and makes his way down to the ring.] Cliff Anderson:: He's a legend in the business, but these fans aren't too sure about him. In his first tenure in the AWA, he was under a mask and went by the name William Ian Dillinger. J.J. Jackson:: I don' care whut nobody sayz...he's still one loco flapjack. Oxford Flanigan:: You know, I don't think I've understood one thing you've said all night. [Sadistic slides into the ring, and immediately him and Kartier go at it. They begin duking it out in the center of the ring as "Girls, Girls, Girls" by Mötley Crüe starts up. The crowd waits in anticipation as "The One Night Stand" Rich Verboncour bursts from the back and sprints down to the ring. His father, Jerry, walks out behind him, but by the time he's out into the aisle, Rich has already hit the ring.] Cliff Anderson:: Rich Verboncour hits the ring, and he's a house of fire! [Verboncour peppers both men with stiff left jabs, then goes to work on Kartier. Kartier and Verboncour exchange holds, but Sadistic strikes out of nowhere and plants Kartier with the Sadistic DDT. Sadistic stands over the fallen Kartier and looks down at him, but as he's doing so, Rich attacks him from behind and dumps him over the top rope to the floor! Sadistic immediately pops up to his feet, and he's furious!] Cliff Anderson:: I don't believe it! Rich Verboncour has eliminated the Phenom! [Jerry taunts Sadistic on the outside by knocking on his army helmet, but the Phenom ignores him and heads to the back. As he's doing so, "Again" (Tattoo of Pain Mix) by Alice in Chains blasts across the arena, and Sadistic stops in his tracks. Mandrake slowly steps out from the back and paces down the aisle, meeting Sadistic face-to-face halfway down the entryway. The crowd begins stirring up quite the ruckus as the two exchange words. Finally, Bruce Vohland and his loyal security guards emerge from the back and separate the two before a physical altercation can take place. Mandrake continues down to the ring.] Cliff Anderson:: There's a lot of history between those two men. A big rivalry, which culminated a little over a year ago when Mandrake nearly paralyzed the Phenom. I think it's only a matter of time before these two are at each other's throats all over again. [Mandrake slides into the ring, where Rich is wailing on Kris Kartier, who's still feeling a little groggy from the Sadistic DDT. Mandrake goes straight after Rich with a blatant choke and drives him back into the corner. The Kill Devil Hills Daredevil catches Verboncour with a headbutt to the mouth, then drops him with a kick to the groin. Mandrake simply smiles as select members of the crowd begin to boo his questionable tactics.] Cliff Anderson:: Looks like Mandrake has adopted a new wrestling philosophy since last time we saw him. [Kartier sneaks up behind the Crimson Demon and locks in the Karta-Hajime, causing the crowd to go crazy. Mandrake struggles to break free and connects with a mulekick to Nyghtmare's groin. Nyghtmare drops to his knees as Mandrake measures him with a solid boot to the face. The daredevil turns his attentions back to Rich and lifts him up onto the top turnbuckle. Mandrake attempts a superplex on the One Night Stand, but Verboncour blocks it and pushes Mandrake to the canvas.] J.J. Jackson:: Dat was close! Manchild almost put a hurtin' on dat sex fiend! [Mandrake keeps Nyghtmare down with a vertical suplex as Verboncour shakes the cobwebs loose. The daredevil turns his attentions back to Rich and charges the corner. Running up the turnbuckles, Mandrake locks Verboncour's head for a Gale Force Advisory to the outside of the ring...!] Cliff Anderson:: No! [Rich shoves Mandrake off at the last second, throwing him to the outside of the ring! Mandrake bounces off the steel guardrail and simply stares back up at Verboncour as the crowd erupts!] Cliff Anderson:: Verboncour eliminates another legend! Mandrake is outta here! Jolly Roger:: Aargh! Mandrake, my boy, yer night is through. [Mandrake simply shrugs his shoulders and heads around the ring to the back, but on the way out, he levels Jerry with a clothesline from behind. The Crimson Demon then slides back into the ring and accumulates a head of steam as he goes after Verboncour again, this time nailing him with the Gale Force Advisory from the top rope. The camera switches to a pre-recorded crowd shot just before impact, but the destruction of the announcer's table is clearly audible! The crowd erupts into frenzied cheering!] Cliff Anderson:: Ahh...! J.J. Jackson:: Ayyye! Oxford Flanigan:: Owwie! [When the camera returns, we find Rich Verboncour strewn amongst the waste that was the AWA commentating crew. Table fragments are everywhere, and Mandrake is standing above the carnage. As he backs away from the destruction, he simply shakes his finger from side to side.] Cliff Anderson:: Well, it's looks like we'll be sitting on concrete for the rest of the night. [A crudely edited version of "Hair of the Dog" by Nazareth plays over the speakers, and the fans begin cheering. A good deal of time passes, but nobody comes out. Finally, a few members of the medical staff backpeddle out from the backstage area, followed by a limping Josh McCool, which causes the cheers to intensify. A small group of medical staff members are attempting to hold the S.O.B. back, but he finally pulls himself free and staggers down to the ring.] J.J. Jackson:: D{bleep}, dat guy's f{bleep}ed up! [McCool slides into the ring and is immediately attacked by Kartier.] Cliff Anderson:: Kartier was the first guy in this match, and by all rights, McCool shouldn't even be out here after that vicious attack by Nightbane. I don't know how much longer either of these guys will last. [The ominous beats of an EKG machine can be heard over the speakers. Suddenly, "Dr. Feelgood" by Mötley Crüe starts up, and Dr. Payne emerges from the back complete with bloodstained medical scrubs and black doctor's bag. The fans begin to boo, but the doctor pays them no mind and enters the ring. He goes to town on both competitors with big right hands, causing the crowd to boo his every move.] Oxford Flanigan:: What kind of doctor is this man, again? Cliff Anderson:: Gynecologist. Wrestling's first and only... [Dr. Payne goes to grab at the crotch Kartier, but the camera switched over to pre-recorded footage of the crowd. The fans can be heard groaning.] Cliff Anderson:: V{bleep}al claw! Payne's got his patented hold locked in on Nyghtmare, and things aren't lookin' good. Wait! Now he's got it locked in on McCool, too! A simultaneous v{bleep}al claw! That's a first in the AWA! Oxford Flanigan:: That's utterly disgusting... Cliff Anderson:: Oh, McCool and Kartier has just hurled Dr. Payne out of the ring! [The camera returns to the ring, where Dr. Payne is picking himself up from the arena floor. The crowd is cheering as McCool and Kartier begin going at it once again in the middle of the ring.] Jolly Roger:: Dr. Payne...has been eliminated! Aargh! Aaaaaargh! Cliff Anderson:: Wow, just like that, and Dr. Payne is gone. He's sure made an impression on this crowd, though... ["Praise" by Sevendust hits the speakers, and out walks the King of Hardcore, Donny J. McNasty. The fans begin cheering as McNasty pops the top on a can of Guinness and chugs it down. After crushing the can, McNasty heads down to the ring. Before entering the ring, McNasty begins digging around under the ring and produces a...steering wheel?] J.J. Jackson:: Ha haaa! Dere's one ya forgot, Cliffy. Dere's also steerin' wheels unduh da ring! [McNasty slides into the ring and begins assaulting both men with his steering wheel, landing unanswered blows to their heads.] Cliff Anderson:: Well, weapons are certainly legal in this match, and the King of Hardcore is using that steering wheel for all it's worth. It should also be noted that McNasty and McCool have a history from their days in the SWF. [McNasty whips McCool into the ropes, then bounces off the far side himself. McNasty charges a charging McCool and goes for a clothesline, but McCool ducks it. Both men bound off opposite sides of the ring and charge each other at full speed. Both men land vicious clotheslines from hell on each other, taking both men to the canvas as the fans go crazy!] Cliff Anderson:: Facelift! Queen Killer! Call it what you will, both men just hit them simultaneously, and both are in bad shape! [Kartier takes advantage of the situation and goes for a cover on McNasty, but only gets a two-count. He moves over to McCool and goes for the pin, but still only gets a two-count. Frustrated, Kartier begins laying right hands into both men. Kartier lifts McNasty off the mat and plants him with the Fisherman's brainbuster! Kartier goes for the cover, but McNasty barely gets his foot on the bottom rope. At this point, Richard Cormier makes his way out from the back and slowly begins strolling down the aisle towards the ring.] Cliff Anderson:: What's Cormier doing out here? He and Nyghtmare have bad blood. Why he'd want to be anywhere near the man, I have no idea. [Kartier spots Cormier and has a few words with him, allowing McCool and McNasty a few moments to recover. McNasty whips McCool into the ropes and goes for a backbody drop, but McCool leap frogs him and heads to the other side of the ring. Rather than rebound off the ropes, McCool hooks the top rope and taunts McNasty. McNasty charges him, but McCool ducks and pulls down the bottom rope along with him. McNasty sails over the top rope!] Cliff Anderson:: McNasty lands on the ring apron! [McNasty pulls himself back up to his feet, but McCool is ready with a big running clothesline. McNasty ducks the swing, and Nyghtmare is there to meet McCool with a standing dropkick, knocking him back into McNasty. McNasty loses his balance and falls off the ring apron to the arena floor.] Cliff Anderson:: McNasty's gone. It's down to Kartier and McCool! Jolly Roger:: Donny McNasty has been eliminated! Grr... [Kartier and McCool begin trading punches, but neither man has much left. McCool goes for a big haymaker, but Nyghtmare ducks it and locks in the Karta-Hajime! McCool drives Kartier back into the corner, and he releases the hold. McCool goes for an Irish whip, but Kartier reverses. McCool bounds off the ropes and goes for the Facelift, but Nyghtmare ducks. McCool rebounds off the far side and charges Kartier, but Kartier grabs McCool by the back of the head and uses the big man's own momentum to carry him over the top rope!] Cliff Anderson:: He's done it! Kris Kartier has done it! He's outlasted all nine of the other competitors to win the Atlantic Championship! Oxford Flanigan:: It was a heroic effort on McCool's part coming into this match injured like he was, but alas, Nyghtmare proved too much in the end. [Cormier approaches the ring and begins yelling at Kartier, grabbing his rival's attention. Kartier approaches the ropes, and neither man notices that Josh McCool is still dangling from the top rope on the opposite side of the ring. McCool pulls himself back up onto the ring apron and climbs back into the ring. The crowd begins to buzz!] Cliff Anderson:: Wait! McCool's not out yet! His feet never touched the floor! He's still in this thing! [Cormier spots McCool waiting patiently behind Kartier and his face contorts into a giant smile. Sensing something is wrong, Kartier slowly turns, but it's too late. McCool catches Kartier with the Facelift, spinning him over the top rope to the arena floor!] Cliff Anderson:: That's it! That's it! McCool wins! McCool is the new Atlantic Champion! Jolly Roger: The winner, and new Atlantic Champion! Josh McCool! Errr! [The referee presents the injured McCool with his newly won belt as Nyghtmare slowly stands on the outside of the ring and begins stalking Cormier. Cormier turns and heads towards the back...that is, until Revilation emerges from the entrance and blocks his escape. The AWA Owner begins to panick, but he runs out of time. Kartier has a twisted smirk on his face as he and Revilation grab Cormier and drag him to the back. Cormier struggles, but to no avail.] Cliff Anderson:: Revilation and Kris Kartier has just abducted Richard Cormier! This is bad, bad news for the owner of the AWA! [The edited version of "Hair of the Dog" by Nazareth plays over the speakers once again, and the fans erupt in cheers for the new Atlantic Champion! As McCool struggles to stand in the ring, James Nightbane emerges from the entry way with an annoyed look on his face. He slowly shakes his head from side to side as he stares a hole through the Atlantic Champion.] Cliff Anderson:: Look at James Nightbane. He's absolutely seething with jealousy. Oxford Flanigan:: Ladies and gents, I regret to inform you that we're out of time tonight. We'll see you all next week. Goodnight everybody! [The show fades to black as McCool and Nightbane glare at each other from a distance.] |
