AoN Preshow: Over the Top Rope Battle Royal - Lethal Lottery Qualifier

[Kermit]

Participants: Brent Blaze, Connor Reese, Dustin Hunter, Jimmy Flynn, Mister Alhazred, Ricky Runn, Sandy Deserts & Thrash

Late last night a crack addict by the name of Hobo Joe hacked into WZCW's Website and posted an article that stated all non-booked roster members would compete in 4-Corners-Pictionrary event at All or Nothing. Since then, Hobo Joe has been arrested and the WZCW Management would like to apologize for the confusion. Good news though! WZCW does have a match for all of those not booked on the card. On the All or Nothing PreShow, we will host an Over-The-Top-Rope Battle Royale for all of those not on the actual card. The winner will be gifted with the first official Lethal Lottery spot. Good luck!

Deadline is Tuesday February 19, 2013 at 11:59 PM (Central). Extensions as per thread.​

 

[Viola Moonlight]

Connor Reese has been granted a 24 hour extension.

 

[GI Cake]

Ricky Runn, and Robert Johnson can be seen in a shady neighborhood in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was a late Evening, and Ricky was in his car with his friend in the passenger seat, was his friend, Rob. Around the neck of the Daredevil was a eight leafed clover, a wishbone, a horseshoe, and a rabbit's tail. In the trunk of his car had a old Johnny Scumm Tee-shirt a small bag of sand, a gram of weed, a carving knife, an old wrestling unitard, an issue of Playboy, and a issue of playgirl. All with the rear bumper of Ricky's card bent inward, the reminder of his accident involving running over Capone on live T.V. Ricky drove through the small neighborhood, following the directions on his phone. Getting frustrated with the directions he muttered.

Ricky:"Ugh, you would think this Witchdoctor who put his ad on Craigslist would be kind enough to put his address on Apple Maps."

All while Ricky drove with his eyes looking at the directions, Rob frantically grabbed at the car, holding on for dear life and shot back to his friend.

Rob:"Yeah, and I would like to still be alive when we get there, slow down!"

Ricky then rolled his eyes and said to him, still paying close attention to the directions being provided from the phone.

Ricky:"Look, once we find this guy, he'll get rid of my bad luck, and I'll be able to compete without worrying about killing someone, and I'll be able to win that Lethal Lottery spot, then become world champion. You gotta be more of a big picture--"

BAM!

The car stops with a loud thud, the front of Ricky's car running straight through the garage door of a small home near the bayou. Before Rob could speak, Ricky's phone chirped.

You have arrived to your destination.

Ricky:"Damn Apple Maps, maybe I should pay the extra dough for one of those GPS's to mount to your car."

Rob got out of the car, he rolled to the side and sat down against the car, checking his pulse and his body for any injuries. While the Daredevil casually stepped out of his car. Rob then spoke in shock.

Rob:"Ricky, how on Earth did you forget how to drive, and why are you worrying about a GPS when your car is completely trashed?!"

Ricky then bit his lip and looked upward, trying to figure out the best way to answer the question. After a bit of thinking, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said to Rob, walking to the back of the car to grab all the stuff out of the trunk.

Ricky:"I dunno, good question. I guess my bad luck got to the part of my brain that makes stuff like riding my bike or driving my car easy. Oh well, we will get a cab to get us back to the next show where we can get to the bus. Trust me man, this guy, Dr.Mama JuJu is going to be the answer to my awful losing streak. I will rather die before I become the next Darren Bull. Here, come help me with this stuff."

With the pop of the trunk, Ricky dug in and started grabbing the stuff from the back, Ricky grabbed the bag of sand and handed it to his friend. With the Magazines, and the other items in his hands, Ricky walks with his friend out of the wreck in the garage to the front door. Rob looks over to the stuff and asks quizzically.

Rob:"Uhh, what does all this stuff have to do with your bad luck?"

Ricky shrugged and said back to him.

Ricky:"Well I told this Dr. JuJu guy I'm a wrestler, and I had some bad luck. So I had to bring items that represented my opponents this week, and with some sort of funky spell or ritual or whatever all my bad luck will melt away."

Rob:"And all that crap hanging from your neck?"

Ricky:"You can never be too careful, dude."

Rob sighed than muttered.

Rob:"If only you said that before you ran Capone over."

Ricky turned his head and asked.

Ricky:"What was that, man?"

Rob:"Oh nothing man, carry on."

Ricky moved to knock on the door to the house. After a bit of waiting, a frail old woman moves to open the door. and looks over the Daredevil and his friend. With a thick Cajun accent she asked.

Woman:"Who be at the door?"

In the mix of her thick accent, and the way she spoke, Ricky was at a loss for words. He then spoke slowly and loudly.

Ricky:"I am Rickyy Runn.... I am here to see Dr.JuJu. Me speak English, does JuJu speak English?"

Rob:"Er, Ricky, she speaks English just fine, I don't think--"

The woman rolled her eyes and opens the door for Ricky and Rob to enter. Once inside the door was closed behind them. The room was filled to the ceiling with all sorts of voodoo books and relics. The woman didn't say much, except she just lead Ricky and Rob to a poorly lit Living room. In the middle of this room was a giant throne, sitting upon the throne was a tall man, his eyes covered by round glasses. With a dark laugh the man then spoke with perhaps and even thicker Cajun accent than the old lady before him.

JuJu:"So you must be Ricky Runn, I could feel the bad luck come in like a bull in a China Shop."

Ricky chuckled a bit nervously at the comment, hoping the man did not make mention of the destroyed garage. Ricky then walked up to the man asked.

Ricky:"haha, yeah, that was my luck making that crashing noise, so, how do we get started?"

JuJu:"First the payment boy, then I'll get the voodoo started, yeah."

Ricky nodded his head when into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, pulling out several hundred dollar bills and started to count them. Rob's eyes squint at the sight and asked.

Rob:"So um Mr.JuJu, how much do your services cost exactly?"

The Cajun man laughed while he took the small pile money from Ricky's hand and counted the money.

Juju:"For a hex this bad, I had to make your friend a very special offer, 1,500 dollars and all his bad luck will go away."

If Rob's jaw was able to fall from the floor, it would have. The price-tag for something so pseudo did not sit right with the man with nothing but common sense. Rob grabbed Ricky's shoulder and said into his ear.

Rob:"You sure this is a good idea man, you're putting a lot of faith and cash on this... I think you're better off just moving on dude."

Ricky simply nodded his head and said to his friend with a reassuring tone.

Ricky:"Relax man, this guy is a doctor, he knows what he is talking about. Have some faith."

Rob:"Ricky, I don't think he is a doctor, doctor-- oh never mind, just get this over with."

Once JuJu made sure the money was all there, he took Ricky and Rob into a backroom, in the middle of the room was a giant pot, the water in the pot was boiling hot. JuJu moved to put on a robe, and carried a large, wooden staff and said in a booming voice, shaking his stick in the air.

JuJu:"Oh great spirits! I Dr.JuJu, ask of, NO command you to remove the bad luck of the young Ricky Runn! Oh rabba rabb, habba jabba, Obbily, Moobily"

Rob's eyebrow began to twitch as he watched the spectacle, Ricky on the other hand watched in awe. Rob bit his tongue, deciding it would be better to just let his friend be immersed in this non-sense if it meant Ricky would stop blaming himself for the accidents around him.

JuJu:"Ricky Runn, come and present each item to the gods, tell them what each item means to your foes!"

Ricky nodded and walked up to the pot carefully. He then pulled out the bag of sand and held it up and said to the Witchdoctor.

Ricky:"Well this bag of sand represents Sandy Deserts, a woman who I am competing against at All or Nothing. She used to believe she was the Sandman. Sandy means well, but she is just a few short nuts away from a Payday bar. Much like this bag of sand, she may seem tough, but it only takes so much before she's scattered and stuck in all the wrong places in your pants. She carries a pouch of glitter or something. So I bring you this bag of sand for melting, or whatever."

Juju nodded his head and banged the side of the pot before commanding.

JuJu:"Good, now pour that in, and present the next item."

Ricky then pulled the Johnny Scumm shirt from his and held it up to JuJu.

Ricky:"My next opponent is Johnny Scumm, there really wasn't much to find to use to represent him so I--"

Rob shook his head and blurted.

Rob:"You're not facing Johnny Scumm, you're going against Trash, Ricky!"

Ricky's head tilts and then he responded.

Ricky:"Are you sure they're not the same person? I mean, he walks around like Scumm, talks like him, and acts like him, I could have sworn people were just calling him trash because of his wrestling ability. That or his new haircut."

Rob then shook his head and informed his friend.

Rob:"Nope, completely different person, but oddly enough, you aren't wrong, he is a lot like Johnny Scumm."

Ricky sighed then looked over to JuJu and asked.

Ricky:"Well can I throw this in anyway? It is an ugly shirt, if anything this belongs in the trash if you know what I mean."

Rob's hand smacked against his forehead, the Witchdoctor shrugged and said to Ricky.

JuJu:"Sure kid, whatever floats your boat."

Ricky then grabbed the carving knife and held it up.

Ricky:"This knife I was told belonged to Dustin Hunter. When I went to the middle of nowhere where there was a tree, and a few graves I saw this knife and a bunch of names scribbled into the tree. So I think it belonged to him. Anyway, this dude seems kinda out there, really weird guy. Can we throw this in there and hopefully he doesn't go all ballistic I took his knife please?"

JuJu nodded, banged on the pot and then Ricky threw in the knife. The next item he presented was the gram of weed.

Ricky:"This item represents Brent Blaze I think. he calls himself the addict, so I figured he should be represented by weed, a weed that ruins the lives of the youth, much like how he poorly represents the roster of WZCW. I'm sure he wants nothing more than to be in the Lethal Lottery, but consider him, weed whacked!"

Upon inspecting the gram of weed, Juju narrowed his eyes and asked.

JuJu:"Um Ricky, that isn't weed... that's a weed, you know, like from someone's front yard."

Ricky:"Well duh, it is. You think I want to worry about getting arrested for carrying drugs on me? I'm not Vega, I'm not some two bit criminal. I like not having a prior record, I'm sure Big Dave would fire my ass if he knew I did something awful like kill someone or stole for a living."

JuJu simply sighed and banged the side of the pot while Ricky tossed in the plant. Then Ricky presented the old, smelly unitard.

Ricky:"This item belonged to Jimmy Flynn, or at least that is what the guy on EBay I bought it from for a couple thousand bucks told me--"

Rob gasped and then started to bang his head against the wall and spoke to himself.

Rob:"I need to hire a financial advisor, I need to hire a financial advisor..."

Ricky then continued.

Ricky:"Right, anyway, Jimmy like myself had problems dealing with Vega. The dude, has a big heart, and even bigger biceps. Out of everyone in this match-up, he is by far the strongest one of the group. Thank god he doesn't wear this thing anymore, because I don't even think Dustin Hunter could fit into this thing."

The next item was then presented. The playgirl article with a rather fit man on the cover with nothing but a bowtie on him.

Ricky:"This item I am sure without a single doubt in my mind belonged to Conner Reese. Or at least owned a copy of it. I mean, look at it, it is everything Conner loves. I'm sure when he is isn't fencing, or getting his face busted in by chairs he is looking at Playgirl like damnnn. I've seen the way he looks at Hoss and Stark in the Shower room. Anyway, can we throw this in already, this thing is starting to stick to my fingers.

"Please, please just throw in already, before I stick my head into this pot!"

Without hesitation, Ricky tossed in the article of buff dudes, the paper vanishing in the hot water. Ricky then finally presented the final item, the centerfold with a beautiful blonde woman on it, her breast being covered with a box of Valentines Day Chocolate.

Ricky:"This item represents Mister, or the figurehead of Sexual Harassment lawsuits. He must have snapped something, because throughout our entire match last week, the only thing he was able to do was thrust his hips back and forth like he had a bad case of crabs... which come to think of it wouldn't be that bad of a guess. I wouldn't put it past him to hip thrust himself and Sandy right out of the ring."

Before Ricky could throw it in. The Doctor grabs the playboy mag and says to the Daredevil.

JuJu:"You know what boy, I think I'll hold onto this, I think I need to make sure this will work properly... yeah that's it. Now to complete the dehexing! Oggily, boogily, Mama Say mama say mama sa ma macosa!"

While chanting that, he began to stir the pot filled with objects that should never be made into a stew. JuJu then dipped into a pocket and pulled out a dust and threw it into the pot, causing a loud poof of smoke and a explosion to come from the pot. JuJu then shouted.

JuJu:"There you go boy, I can already feel your bad luck run from your body. Go out to All or Nothing, and show the world your new found luck!"

Ricky:"Holy cow, I think its working! Thanks JuJu, it was worth every penny! Come on Rob, we got to go to some random house show and talk to the crowd about how I'm going to win this week!"

When Ricky and Rob walked out the door and to the streets of New Orleans, the Witchdoctor grabbed the Playboy, and the money and laughed to himself and said with a wolf grin.

JuJu:"Haha, that kid sure was pretty dumb... oh well, easiest money I ever--"

CRASH!

A creaking noise can be heard from the ceiling above the doctor, then suddenly the piano from the upstairs bedroom crashed through the floor, crushing the Witchdoctor. While the witchdoctor struggled in pain under the weight of the piano Ricky got into his dented up car with his friend and said with a bright smile across his face.

Ricky:"I'm telling you man, I already feel like nothing can kill me, and even better, I won't be ending up hurting anyone by accident anytime soon. Once I get my first spot in the Lethal Lottery, I will have all the time in the world to prep for Lethal Lottery. Last year, it was Ty Burna, but this year, this year it is going to be Ricky Runn: the Lethal Lottery winner."

 

[Johnny Scumm]

July 22nd, 2001

Dirty Angels are midway through one of their greatest sets they've ever played. A 19 song setlist, filled with 6 Number 1 hits. The crowd are going crazy, but the band aren't onstage. The crowd think they're messing them around, but backstage, things aren't as they seem. Their lead singer, Michael Sullivan has lost all ability to sing. When reaching for the last note of "Crying For My Love", Sullivan felt his entire throat shred. He knew he couldn't sing and jogged straight off stage. His bandmates followed him immediately to find out what was going on. Drummer Alex Sandro finds Sullivan and sits him down.

Sandro: "Mike, what the hell happened out there?!"

Sullivan tries to convey his words, but only croaking is coming out. He points at his throat and sits there, throwing his head into his hands.

"You can't sing or what?"

Michael shakes his head and musters up everything he can to throw out a few words.

Sullivan: "My voice... it's gone."

"Guys! Over here!"

The rest of the band go over to where Sandro & Sullivan are seated so he can deliver the news.

"Mike says his voice has gone, I don't know whether he means he's killed it completely, or it's just been too much for him tonight. I mean, we really were pushing him with the set tonight, right? It could be out fault!"

Sullivan puts his hand on Alex's shoulder and leans forward. He's just about comprehensible, but he still wants to talk.

"It's... not your fault. Let me tell *Sullivan coughs, roughly* the fans.

"If you're sure Mike."

He nods at Alex and stands up. His face is quite obviously distraught and almost teary, but he starts to make way back onto the stage as his bandmates pat him on the back. As the crowd finally catch a glimpse of Sullivan on the stage, they begin to chant "ANGEL! ANGEL! ANGEL!", but Sullivan waves his hand, motioning for him to cut it out. The crowd begin to silence as a lonely lead singer with no band behind him moves to the microphone and struggles to speak.

"*Coughs* I'm sorry. My... voice, it's gone." *Sullivan wipes a tear out of his eye* "We can't carry on tonight, you'll get your money back." *Sullivan coughs again, rougher than before*

It seems as if the crowd doesn't mind as they begin to cheer for Michael Sullivan, the only man on the stage, who addressed the crowd himself, even though he could barely get the words out. He waves at the crowd who are still cheering just as loud as he disappears through the curtain on the side of the stage, where the rest of the band are waiting for him. They let Sullivan walk to the back alone, where he makes his way to the dressing room. That was the end of Dirty Angel and the end of Sullivan's musical career for good.

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February 14th 2013

In his house, Sullivan struggles to wake up. His back is hurting and he pushes on the bed to get up straight. Sullivan started a new career, as a Wrestler. Michael Sullivan is no longer his name, it's Thrash. He performs for a new crowd now, but it's a crowd he's already growing to love. The pain isn't something he's felt in 12 years, where the throat surgery he had to go through put him through some of the worst pain he'd felt...until now.

"Fucking back, fucking shoulder. This is a different kind of game altogether! But, one night down, one win down. I could get used to this pretty quickly. Those guys cheering for me as I dropped Dustin Hunter was a feeling that didn't feel new, but it was one that I'd not felt in a while."

Thrash turns his head to his right and on his bedside table is an envelope which he just flicks open with his hand. $3000 dollars, in cash, stares him back in the eye.

"It's real. I might've found something to keep me going at last. Maybe it's not impossible".

As he gets out of bed, there's a rapping on the door that can only be faintly heard. Walking to the door only in some sweatpants, he opens it to see Mr. Yorke, the debt collector standing in the doorway.

"I thought you weren't coming back anymore to trouble me?"

"Well, I'm not here to trouble you Mr. Sullivan *Thrash s******s at his name* I'm here simply for a routine check-up. They're meant to be a surprise so that you have not need to not be here when I turn up".

"And what does this check-up mean?"

"Nothing at all. I merely come round to see you and make sure that you'll be able to make your next payment, or whether you think you might have any troubles. See, having made your previous payment of over nine thousand dollars, thanks to your repossessed items being sold at an auction, we still have to make sure you'll be paying the next one."

"Troubles? Not at all Mr. Yorke! Actually, how much are my monthly payments?"

"Your monthly rent and utility payments come to one thousand, four hundred and sixty-two dollars."

"Hang on a minute Yorke, I've got something for you."

Sullivan runs back to his room, where he goes to the envelope of money, his first WZCW payment. He counts out $1500 dollars and clenches it in his fist, making his way back to Mr. Yorke, who's taking a look at the flowers in the garden.

"Mr. Yorke, this is for you. Well, it's for my next payment. I know it's not due for another two weeks, but I thought that I'd rather get it to you early than late. Oh, keep the change!"

"Umm... thank you? Mr. Sullivan, where have you got this money from?"

"I forgot to tell you, I've got a job. Oh, and you can stop calling me Mr. Sullivan now, please call me Thrash."

"Thrash?"

"Yep, I'm officially the newest member of Wrestlezone Championship Wrestling. I had my debut match just a week ago, where I beat Dustin Hunter, The Angel & James Carter to win my first ever match. This is only part of my first and definitely not my last payment."

"Congratulations Mr. S- I mean, Thrash. A man like yourself that had fallen on hard times after such a success was actually quite surprising to me. However, to see that you've got something to keep you going again is good."

"I won't have any problems with these payments anymore Mr. Yorke, I promise you that. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to the gym and get some proper training in before my next match at the Pay-Per-View, that is, if I even have one. I think I made my debut too late to get in with a chance of anything."

"Ok, I'll leave you for now. Good luck with the new career and I hope that I don't have to come back here again anymore."

"Oh don't worry Mr. Yorke, you won't. Just remember to tune into All or Nothing next week on Pay-Per-View and hopefully, you'll see me capturing the attention of a crowd that's gonna love me."

The two men shake hands and Thrash shuts the door behind Mr. Yorke, who makes his way to his car, money in hand. Thrash picks up a bag that he left by the stairs. He unzips it to make sure that he has the gear in it that he needs for the gym and he makes his way to WZCW Headquarters, to use all of their facilities.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thrash arrives at the Gym at WZCW Headquarters, dropping the bag by the bench press. He sits down & cracks his knuckles, ready to work out, but just as he lays back, he's interrupted by a booming voice in the otherwise empty gym.

"Heeey, Trashcan!"

He sits up from the bench press to see Johnny Klamor, commentator on Aftershock standing above him.

"I've been sent to see you. Believe me, it's not something I'd of my own accord."

"It's Thrash Klamor. Get it right"

"Yeah yeah, let's not waste time on details. I've got some news for you about the Pay-Per-View this weekend."

"I'm on the card? I thought I debuted too late but wow, if I managed that, who am I facing?"

"You didn't make the card Trashcan. Well, you didn't make it per se. You made the pre-show match. So you won't be on live television, but you'll be entertaining the people watching before the show starts, yippee. They want you to take part in an Eight Man Battle Royal, where the winner will take part in an even bigger Battle Royal type match, the... LETHAL LOTTERY! I doubt it'll be you."

"Wow, my second match in WZCW and I've already got the opportunity to be part of one of the biggest matches known to the company? This is great! Who am I up against?"

"If I can remember off the top of my head...*Klamor takes a deep breath* BrentBlazeConnorReeseJimmyFlynnDustinHunterMisterAlhazredSandyDesertsandRickyRunn."

Klamor smiles at the fact he was able to speak so quickly without Thrash understanding.

"In English Klamor?"

"Hmph. Fine. Brent Blaze, Connor Reese, Jimmy Flynn, Dustin Hunter, Mister Alhazred, Sandy Deserts and Ricky Runn."

"Ricky Runn in a Battle Royal?! With the luck he's having lately, if he eliminates someone, they'll probably end up with broken bones!"

"That's not funny Thrash. Don't be stupid. Now, you're going to have outlast these other seven men to be in with a chance of being in the Lethal Lottery. It's not likely you'll do it, but good luck anyways I guess. See you around."

"Thanks for the good graces Klamor, I'll see you at the Pre-Show."

Johnny Klamor walks straight back out of the room, whistling jauntily to himself. Thrash lays back on the bench press again, but sits straight back up again, not being able to focus.

"An Eight-Man Battle Royal huh? And the chance to be in the Lethal Lottery. Holy shit, this is crazy! But man, these aren't opponents I can drop out as easily as Dustin Hunter. I could drop them over the top rope with For Whom The Bell Tolls, but there's seven of them!"

Thrash holds up seven fingers in front of his face, one by one. Looking at them, he shakes his head in bemusement.

"Dustin Hunter. *He puts down one finger* I've beaten Hunter before, just the other night. He really needs to buck up his game and well, it's going to be difficult for him. If he can't pin a man, how can he come to survive with seven others and throwing them over the top rope? Then we've got Brent Blaze. *Another finger goes down, 5 remain* [/I]Blaze is almost as new as I am and last week, he got dealt a loss against the Mayhem Champ Vega. Hopefully this'll be playing up on his mind and he won't be 100% going into this match. When you've got so many competitors in the ring, the slight edge is obviously going to be needed no matter what it may be. Now Ricky Runn, *He drops another finger* that recent run of bad luck hasn't been too good for him. His mental state can't help him here at all, surely? He broken a girls neck, he ran a man over, so he'll obviously need to take some precautions before stepping into that ring with anyone! Not to mention your loss in the elimination fourway last week."

He stands up, still with four fingers held out.

"Jimmy Flynn. *Three fingers stay up now* He beat Jacoby Capone last week, but is that enough? It may be for himself, but there are people stepping between the ropes that are much better than him, such as Connor Reese. *Thrash goes down to two fingers* He beat the Number One contender to the Mayhem Title, Krypto last week. That's certainly more than enough to be eligible for this match! These people may have more experience than me, but I'm gonna do everything that I can to make this my match! Talking about experience, there's two people I've forgotten about. Sandy Deserts, *One finger remains up on his hand* Now, that girl's a big threat. She may not have won the fourway match last week, much like Mister Alhazred *The last finger does down, into a fist*, but they're still threats in this one. They both have great skills and experience, but this is the match where Thrash really needs to prove that he belongs in WZCW. I need to outlast another six men...and one woman in a match that could very well be the making of me. It could be the making of my path to the Lethal Lottery, then even the path to becoming the WZCW World Heavyweight Champion. I've been here a week and already, the possibilities are endless. I don't know whether I'm going to win this match or not, but I can guarantee you that I won't go down without a fight. Granted, neither will my opponents, but my stamina, the energy that I know I have will put me in a great situation and a possible advantage against the seven other competitors in this one.

Thrash throws up the metal signs and puts his head down. Slowly, he lowers his arms and raises his head.

"I'm here to rock All or Nothing and I'm going to say it now. I'm headed to the Lethal Lottery, one way or another."

Finally he lays back, grabbing the weights above him. He begins to bench press & all he has to do now is hope that at the end of the All or Nothing Pre-Show, he'll be headed to the Lethal Lottery.

 

[MMSoldier]

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Washington Academy.

Jimmy stands in another gym, this one considerably smaller than the previous one. The bleachers stand closes, maroon dull against the white. The court also shares the maroon color scheme. Jimmy holds up his hand, and motions to the area.

Jimmy: This was where my journey began.

He walks out to mid court, and rubs the wood with his foot. A warm smile streaks his face as memories rush back.

Jimmy: It was in this spot, where the Raiders gained a new wrestler. I had my first match here against a kid from Caribou. I wasn't much as a rookie, but I was able to pull it out and get my first pin. My rampage began here.

Flynn looks up at the rafters, then around the gym, following the maroon and blue banners adorning the walls.

Jimmy: My first year wasn’t much, as I only won three other matches and watched as my teammates rose up to PVCs.

Jimmy walks over to the corner of the gym, looking up at a sportsmanship banner for the football team.

Jimmy: Our football team rose as well, but that’s a story for another day.

He returns to the court, and sits on the hardwood.

Jimmy: Returning to our tale, my second year was the year of the Raider. Ask anyone else about the year; they’ll say I went on a tear, losing only one race.

Flynn looks over to the bleachers, his hands resting on his head and his eyes unfocused.

Jimmy: My opinion, right place right time. The high placers from the previous year had graduated onwards, and I was still pretty talented for my age. My fellow teammates and friends helped my rise to championships, and I won my first state championship.

Jimmy holds up a small plaque with his picture on it.

Jimmy: Here I am, right after my victory. And it was great. The Devil’s Dancer, on top of the world!

Jimmy throws his arms out, and smiles.

Jimmy: But, like every good champion, I started my preparation of defending my title. And, the following year, the season started great. But…

Jimmy reaches into his pocket and removes a black headband, nothing on the fabric.

Jimmy: My best friend, the person who supported me the most, passed away in a car accident. This headband was worn for the rest of the year, as I dedicated my perfect season to his memory, and my second Maine State championship.

Jimmy places the headband on the floor, and looks up again.

Jimmy: It’s been a while, bud, but you’ve never left us. You are still here.

Flynn sighs, and looks back down at the headband.

Jimmy: But, the match I’m going into isn’t what I like to do. After some idiot hacked the site, I was already confused, but now I’m planning, just how I was when defending my first state title.

Jimmy Leans back, hands behind his head.

Jimmy: A battle royal isn't my cup of tea, I'd much prefer a normal match up. But, I have a feeling that this match will be very interesting and I will rise to the challenge of this battle.

He rises, and walks over to the stands, his head looking up the entire time.

Jimmy: Four newcomers, to test their strength. One Blaze that has only dimmed. A Hunter, yet to find his prey. A Thrasher, whose time has only just begun, and a Sandwoman, who trained with the top.

Jimmy chuckles, shaking his head.

Jimmy: Brent Blaze had just faced the force I failed to win, and his climb has been stalled. That stall will continue even more, as his light dulls against me. Dustin Hunter, The Hollywood Nightmare, faced off against another member of this match, Thrash, where the latter pulled it out. Their lack of experience will cost them both as they face proper champions.

Flynn brings his hand up to his face, closing it in a fist.

Jimmy: We end our “newcomers” with Sandy Deserts, the Sandman. Now, my apprehension at calling her “new” is that she’s already been a wrestler before. A former Luchadore, she took some time and has just come back. As most of you know my feelings on the Lucha style, I’ll refrain. But her crazy antics will end with her crashing and burning.

Jimmy turns back to the bleachers and slides down the face, ending in a sitting position at their base.

Jimmy: Sandy faced two other opponents that will be in this match, one of which shares her high-flying antics. Ricky Runn, a former tag team champion has had a…interesting last couple of weeks to say the least. Sending two people to the hospital is not the best thing for one’s mindset. And yet, he’s still out here, but his mind won’t be in the ring, and that’s something you can’t have in this business.

Jimmy pats his knee.

Jimmy: The other competitor from that match, to be quite honest, disgusts me. Mister Alhazred should be happy with what he came out of that match with, because it should’ve been much worse. Alhazred will take what he wants, but he will go too much and have his hopes ended.

Flynn rubs his nose, sighing.

Jimmy: Leaving the one wild card, in my mind at least, in this match: Connor Reese. Reese has had his issues in the past, and I’m surprised he’s in this match. The higher ups don’t seem to like him all that well, but he has talent in the ring, which I respect. But, he’s attempted things that got him on people’s bad sides, and it will be unknown how his mindset will be.

Jimmy slaps his arm and smirks.

Jimmy: I’m going into this battle royal with momentum on my side and my heart ready to go. You all better be ready to dance, because The Devil’s Dancer won’t give you an inch come All or Nothing.

Flynn stands and returns once again to the middle of the gym. He picks up the headband and looks at it in his hand.

Jimmy: This is for you, bud. Rest easy.

He leaves the view as the feed cuts.

 

[Skairipa Matrix]

We see an apartment complex in downtown Detriot where there is only 1 light on in the whole building, A light in the apartment of Dustin Hunter. Inside the apartment Dustin is simply hitting a punching bag in sweats as he has seems to be working out some anger. Suddenly there's a knock at the door.

Dustin: What do ya want?

???: It's me. Open up.

Dustin sighs and walks over to the door, Then after looking through the peephole he unlocks the door and opens it, Standing before him is his good friend Katie Smith.

Dustin: Do you realize it's after midnight? You shouldn't be out this late.

Katie: I was worried about you and knew you'd be up. I haven't heard from you since the morning of your WZCW debut.

Dustin: Yeah well, Maybe there's a good reason for that.

Dustin walks away from the doorway and goes back to hitting the punching bag as Katie walks into the apartment and closes the door.

Katie: What's that supposed to mean?

Dustin: Nothing.

Dustin is clearly getting more annoyed as the conversation keeps going.

Katie: Dustin, I know you better than anybody tell me what's going on.

Dustin turns to face Katie after he stops hitting the bag.

Dustin: YOU COST ME MY DEBUT MATCH!

Katie is shocked by this statement, To the point she is at a loss for words.

Dustin: If it wasn't for you saying "oh lets go visit your mother and brother's graves. It'll be good for you on your big day" I WOULD HAVE WON! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!

Katie: YOUR THE ONE WHO ASKED ME IF IT WAS A GOOD IDEA DUSTIN! DON'T BLAME ME FOR YOU LOSING I WASN'T THERE!

Dustin: Doesn't matter, You caused me to lose focus of what's important and right now the only thing that matters to me is WZCW and taking that damn company by storm.

Katie: What about your family?

Dustin: I HAVE NO FAMILY! I LOST MY FAMILY THE DAY OF THAT GOD DAMN CAR CRASH!

Dustin turns and punches the wall as Katie is on edge and backs away from Dustin as she gets a tear in her eye.

Katie: What about me? I've been there for you whenever you needed anything! You always said we were like family.

Dustin: Look I don't have time for this, I have a battle royal to focus on and my first PPV match. I couldn't win when I had 3 opponents, Now I have 7! How am I supposed to win with you here wasting my time?

Katie walks over to Dustin and slaps him right across the face then storms out of the apartment in tears as he has never spoken to her that way before. Dustin however has no regret and doesn't bother chasing after her and instead throws a wicked punch into the punching bag, Nearly knocking it off the chain. Dustin now walks out of his apartment and onto the deck and sits in a chair he has out there with a half empty bottle of whiskey in hand.

Dustin: You know, I like the idea of being in a battle royal, I have 7 people there with me, That gives me 7 choices of someone to hurt, Someone to mangle. At All Or Nothing I will make EVERYBODY realize Dustin Hunter is no joke, DUSTIN HUNTER IS THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE OF WZCW! Tonight you will ALL find that out the hard way!

Dustin is clearly talking to himself as he takes another swig of whiskey before throwing the bottle on the ground smashing it. Dustin now stands up and looks at the view of downtown Detroit and rambles on in his possibly drunk state.

Dustin: Thrash, You got payback for last week coming your way this time. Last week I said I was gonna force you to Snap Back To Reality and this time I will make sure that happens. This isn't the place for an old rocker to relive their glory days. Ricky Runn, You injure people on accident, I DO IT ON PURPOSE! INJURING PEOPLE MAKES MY DAY! Sandy Deserts, I don't care that your a woman I will still hurt you just as bad as I would anybody else.

Dustin walks across his deck to the other side and leans over the railing.

Dustin: As for my other opponents, Brent Blaze, From what I gather you come from the same background as me, I see a little bit of myself in you but that's not gonna stop me from tossing you over the top rope. Connor Reese I don't know too much about you, But I like it that way. Jimmy Flynn I've watched you lose multiple times in the past few weeks, Tonight it's just another crushing defeat coming your way. Mister I see you out there every week with your non stop thrusting and acting like an idiot, I hope you leave that at home tonight though, I have no time to deal with you acting like an idiot.

Dustin is now sitting on the edge of his railing with his feet dangling off the deck.

Dustin: Let me give you 7 a piece of advice, In that Battle Royal just stay out of my way because I have an agenda and WZCW NEEDS me to be in the Lethal Lottery! Tonight is the beginning of my greatness, Tonight all of your worst nightmare's will come to life in that ring!

Dustin slides his feet back over the railing and down onto the hard cement of his deck as he walks over to a lawn chair and plops down in the chair then closes his eyes. Seconds after he closes his eyes however he hears a familiar voice...

???: Talking to yourself again?

Dustin jumps up out of the chair and is a bit surprised to see the ghost of his brother Austin.

Austin: What the hell are you doing?

Dustin: Drinking. Want some?

Austin: Your turning more and more into dad every day, And now your drinking like him too.

Dustin gets pissed off at this comment and throws a punch at his brother but of course it has no effect as his brother is a ghost.

Austin: Wow, Your even an abusive drunk like he is.

Dustin: What do you want? I got better things to do than deal with you.

Austin: What do I want? Oh lets see for starters how about you put the bottle down and then call Katie and apologize for the way you spoke to her tonight!

Dustin: The way I spoke to her? SHE COST ME MY MATCH! THAT WAS HER FAULT!

Austin: NO SHE DIDN'T! YOU COST YOURSELF THAT MATCH!

Dustin: HOW?

Austin: Cause you were too worried about trying to hurt Thrash instead of getting the victory when you had the chance, You always had that problem didn't you?

Dustin: I...I did not!

Austin: Look you always say you don't wanna be like dad well if that's the case put the bottle down. If your lucky that'll be the first step in getting Katie to speak to you ever again.

Dustin: I don't need Katie, I don't need you either.

Austin chuckles at that statement as Dustin begins to get furious again.

Dustin: Whats so funny?

Austin: I'm only here as a figment of your imagination, You needed a voice a reason and couldn't bring yourself to do it for yourself. You and I both know Katie is the only person you will ever fully trust, The only person who has ever been there for you since the car accident. She needs you too, You mean a lot to her but today you broke her heart.

Dustin: Woah....

All of sudden Dustin wakes up, In his lawn chair he has on his porch. Dustin looks around confused and sees the bottle of whiskey on the ground broken and the ghost of his brother nowhere to be found. He rubs his cheek that is still stinging a bit from the slap he took from Katie and sighs to himself, Realizing he screwed up real bad. Dustin walks inside now and splashes water on his face from the kitchen sink.

Dustin: What I have done? I screwed up real bad...After my match at All Or Nothing I know what I need to do.

Dustin looks at the clock on the wall that shows the time of 1:30 AM.

Dustin: Guess I better some sleep before the match.

Dustin walks into his bedroom in the apartment and closes the door behind him as the screen fades to black.

 

[IHW]

Brent Blaze
Eggs…

Beep

Brent Blaze
Milk…

Beep

Brent Blaze
Bread…

Beep

Brent Blaze
Damn it! I forgot the cheese!

Brent Blaze is currently standing in the check out line at a Kroger store, in Owensboro, Kentucky.

Brent Blaze
I am going to go grab some… I’ll be right back.

Brent walks off, leaving all of his shopping items on the conveyor belt. He struts through the Kroger, as he passes all the drinks. He comes past the Valentines Day items, and slows down staring at all of the cards and candies. He lifts up a pink and red card that reads “Happy Valentines Day,” with a cupid-like figure on the front. He opens it up and reads the inside. “Finally, You’re Mine.” He shuns off the first thought that comes to his mind, and tosses the card to the ground. He thought about getting one, but decided that there was no one for him to give it too. Blaze angrily walks off leaving the card face down on the ground. Finally, he reaches the back of the store. After searching around, Brent can’t seem to find the type of cheese he is looking for. He notices someone standing nearby.

Brent Blaze
Hey! Hey… You!

A man wearing a navy blue shirt turns around.

Man
Yeah?

The man turns around, and stares at Brent.

Brent Blaze
Where’s the damn Swiss cheese at in this place?

Man
I don’t… know?

Brent nearly flips out.

Brent Blaze
You mean to tell me…

Man
Hey, I know you! Ain’t you that guy who wrassles on WZCW? You’re… you’re Brent Blaze! The Addiction, right?

Brent looks astonished.

Brent Blaze
Why yes… yes I am.

Man
Boy, I tell ya, last week when you lost to Vega made me and my

Brent Blaze
What is wrong with you? Why are your eyes so red?

Man
I don’t know what you’re talking about!

The strange man tries to scurry away. Brent quickly walks after him.

Brent Blaze
What’s going on with you? I can help! Hey!

The man has disappeared amidst a random crowd of people. Blaze hurries up to see what is going on. There appears to be a girl lying on the floor.

Brent Blaze
What’s going on over here?

Blaze pauses for a few seconds.

Brent Blaze
ALEXIS!

BEEP BEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEPP

Brent Blaze sits up. He is now home in his room, just awaking. It’s obvious that the aforementioned events were a part of a dream, or rather a nightmare. Blaze checks his phone, and sees nothing on the screen but the time. Its 8:45, 45 minutes past when Blaze was supposed to be awaking. He expected at least a message from his friend Alexis, who he stormed away from last night while at dinner.

Brent lies there for a few more moments, thinking about the nightmare he just encountered. He gets up and travels to the kitchen. He opens the fridge and searches for something to eat.

Brent Blaze
I really do need to go to the store.

Da Da

Brent Blaze’s phone goes off. He quickly checks it, secretly hoping for a message from Alexis.

"One New Message"

“Hey Brent, you did good in you match the other night! Can’t win ‘em all bro. See you at AoN!”
- Dustin

Brent Blaze
Did good? I did great! Vega got lucky! That was luck! Fluke! That’s what it was. Three matches in and I was facing a champion! I didn’t blow it! I proved exactly why I am The Addiction! My potency was vigilant! Vega didn’t win that match from being a good wrestler! Vega won from being a cheater! That’s right, he cheated!

Brent grabs a jug of milk, about a third of the way full, and smashes it down on the counter.

Brent Blaze
Vega! Very enormous giant asshole! Ha!

Brent goes to the cabinet and pulls out some fruity pebbles with a familiar face on them. He thrusts it next to the milk.

Brent Blaze
Dustin says he’ll see me at All or Nothing? No, I will see him at AON! He is a newbie; no different from that James Carter loser I beat a few weeks ago. He is a loser- no different from the Paper Mayhem Champion!

Blaze grabs a bowl and spoon from the sink. He sprays them off, and sits them next to the rest of his meal.

Brent Blaze checks WZCW.COM on his phone whist the sink water runs in the background.

“Late last night a crack addict by the name of Hobo Joe hacked into WZCW's Website and posted an article that stated all non-booked roster members would compete in 4-Corners-Pictionrary event at All or Nothing. Since then, Hobo Joe has been arrested and the WZCW Management would like to apologize for the confusion. Good news though! WZCW does have a match for all of those not booked on the card. On the All or Nothing PreShow, we will host an Over-The-Top-Rope Battle Royale for all of those not on the actual card. Where the winner will be gifted with the first official Lethal Lottery spot. Good luck!”

Brent Blaze
Hobo Joe? I have got to contact whoever is in charge of this website and give them a talking to! A crack addict? Really? How could you be so dumb! How did a crack addict manage to hack the greatest wrestling promotion in the worlds website? I bet he does his drugs with the website editor! Better yet, I bet the editor is his dealer!

Blaze throws his phone to the couch. He starts to pour his cereal into the semi-clean bowl.

Brent Blaze
Who edits our web page? I am taking this to the boss! I will figure this out, and save this poor poor man. Or woman? They do drugs too! That’s how evil this world is. The negative effects have spread to all those around Earth. The poor! The rich! The smart! The Ricky Runns!

Blaze pours milk over his pile of cereal.

Brent Blaze
I bet Sandy edits the web page! Sandy Desserts, the crack dealer. Its got a ring to it; unlike her- but hey, maybe little ole’ Reese Pieces can put a ring on it!

Brent chuckles at his own little joke.

Brent Blaze
Thrash? Crap? No, Trash! Thrash is trash! Flynn can’t win!

Brent laughs as his jokes again, and then sticks his spoon in the cereal and marches to the couch. He begins to sit.

Splash!

Brent hears a big splash and then a pouring sound. He turns around and realizes he left the sink on. Brent rushes to the kitchen and turns the water of. He takes a few moments to clean up his mess.

Brent Blaze
Mister Alhazred, I wonder what he is doing right now? Probably bangin’ some women.

Brent pauses, then laughs at the though of Alhazred actually getting a women. Blaze then walks to the couch, and finally sits down. He picks his phone up before his cereal.

“One New Message”

Blaze checks it, once again waiting for Alexis to try and contact him.

“This is a reminder that your scheduled payment is due on the… ”

Blaze throws his phone at the wall. It falls, but still in one piece. He reaches for his cereal.

Brent Blaze
Dammit! It’s soggy!

Blaze sits his bowl down, not able to eat the mush inside.

Ring Ring Ring

The phone rings. Blaze stares it down, as he sits across the room from it.

Ring Ring Ring

Brent doesn’t want to get up just to be disappointed once more.

Ring Ring

Blaze jumps up after hesitating. He runs around the coffee table, nearly spilling his soggy meal, and reaches for the cell phone.

Ring-

Blaze picks up the phone.

Brent Blaze
Hello?

There is no answer, but as he pulls away he reads the screen.

“One Missed Call- From Alexis”

 

[Viola Moonlight]

The unrelenting downpour of rain slaps the face of Sandy Deserts who seems reluctant to seek shelter as the skies continue to soak everything in its path. Others in the streets race as fast as the slippery ground allows them too without falling over, attempting to find whatever tree, building or awning still has space underneath its protective cover. The local bus stop is over-run with people looking to partake in public transport, willing to pay the extra few cents to travel in this storm without absorbing the punishment of the dark, grey clouds looming over the city. Sandy however, was not budging no matter how angry and convincing Mother Nature could be in drenching her clothes and hair. Today wasn't her day of pander to her needs as there are many of those days ahead she can take to visit a beauty parlour and make herself look like any model who graces the cover of a popular women's magazine. Today was a day for her best friend, the Professor, who had been given his eviction notice from the hospitals; finally being discharged from its confines. The nagging injuries that had troubled the famous psychiatrist due to his performances in the ring had been treated well and his most recent setback was taken care of by the doctors inside as instructed on the Professor's orders. Despite how gloomy and depressing today's weather might make most people, it was a joyous occasion for both Sandy and the Professor and no amount of water falling heavily from above was going to stop the two from having their moment... a moment that Sandy had been waiting for a long time.

It wasn't one of those moments where Sandy had been anticipating for days on end without sleep. No, it was a moment where Sandy had been waiting on a park bench across the street from the hospital grounds, patiently sitting until the Professor would eventually make his way through the entrance. It seems the Professor was late in leaving the building and despite Sandy's concerns, she was intent on keeping the Professor's promise by waiting outside the building. Sitting down on an aged park bench outside in a heavy storm for an extended period of time isn't an ideal setting for anyone, especially when you are waiting on someone, and it made Sandy a little bit frustrated as she glanced at her wrist-watch for the time.

11.30

"So much for 10 o'clock..." Sandy utters to herself.

Despite the delay, Sandy remains optimistic and continues to stare at the entrance of the hospital as best she can through the rain where many people today have been rushing in and out through those doors, with the sound of the wind bellowing at her and the rain smacking the ground as hard as it can accompanying her as she waits. The wait does not last very long as Sandy sees the doors open once again, revealing a nurse wheeling out a man in a wheelchair who is very familiar; the Professor! As soon as they enter the outside world, the man in the wheelchair recognises Sandy and waves to her. Sandy's face lights up, the only thing that seems to be illuminated on this dark day, as she promptly gets up and rushes over to him who also stands up from the chair. As Sandy gets to the hospital grounds, she leaps at the Professor and the two embrace each other in a long, damp hug, ruining his semi-formal wear. He doesn't seem to care though as he is just happy to be outside and be free again. The nurse immediately folds the wheelchair up and lugs it back inside before the storm turns its anger in the direction of the hospital doors. Sandy and the Professor back up a little, ending the hug they shared.

"Are you glad to be out?" Sandy smiles as she asks the question.

The Professor nods, returning the smile.

"That's good to hear..." Sandy pauses for a moment, realising that the sentence doesn't necessarily hold true. The raised eyebrow and a slight smirk of the Professor shows that he heard the unintentional remark too. Sandy laughs before re-adjusting her sentence. "Good. C'mon, I've got Bessie waiting in the car park with your packed suitcase. Can't keep her waiting."

Before Sandy turns around, she notices a very confused look on the face of the Professor, questioning her with his eyes on the identity of Bessie. She lets out a small laugh.

"I got myself a new Monster Truck who is named Bessie" explained Sandy. "I bought it from one of those destruction derby shows when I got sent to do some House shows in Texas, right after her retirement derby. I couldn't resist."

The Professor looks down and shakes his head with a smile on his face.

"You can't tell me that you haven't done anything spontaneous in your life" Sandy retorts, standing up for her decision to acquire a big vehicle. "Don't worry, I only bought it because I felt I'd have a special connection with Bessie unlike your decision to buy a Chevrolet Corvette because you were trying to compensate for something."

A slight push by the Professor sends Sandy back into the rain (out from under the cover of the hospital awning). She does not care she laughs at her comment with the Professor putting his hands on his hips. Sandy shrugs "What?" He shakes his head again before gesturing Sandy with his arm to come along to the vehicle with Sandy taking point.

The two head towards the car park, out into the battlefield where the rain remained in control. Within seconds, the clean crisp clothing of the Professor became as drenched as Sandy's, who had been in the rain for over an hour. They didn't care about the weather though as the two walked together, squeezing past the cars in the tight parking spaces and eventually locating old Bessie. Sandy climbs up the driver's side, unlocking the car and opening the passenger door for the Professor who looks at the behemoth in awe. He is unsure of how to get in.

Sandy sticks her head out and yells "You lost your voice not your ability to climb. Use the tread on the tyres to get up."

The Professor does his best to enter the passenger side with Sandy extending a hand and pulling him up. He sits in the passenger seat with his head titled back and gasping for air as Sandy looks on unamused "I'm the only one out of the two of us who is in their forties and you're the one struggling to climb into a vehicle? Age is catching up to you, old man... I guess you heading over to the monastery to train isn't such a bad idea after all. You look like you could do with losing a few pounds and getting back into shape."

He nods as he slows down his breathing to a normal pace. Sandy looks at the disappointment on the Professor's face, someone who was able to compete on a regular 5 night a week schedule without problem to a man who cannot climb a few feet in the air without getting tanked.

"Don't worry" Sandy re-assures the Professor with a hand on his shoulder. "That used to be me right before I hit the twilight of my career. I was considerably slower in the ring, puffing as hard as the wolf in the three pigs fairytale when I was only 5 minutes into a match and I had some pretty nasty dizzy spells. A lot of people noticed and by that time, the only reason I had to stick around and wrestle was just for the fan service but as proud as a person I was, I didn't want to take a break as many advised me and I kept on trucking. Eventually, age had caught up to my gruelling schedule and considering my smoking habits back then had increased, going to nearly a 'pack-a-day' smoker, I wasn't able to cope and the lack of oxygen did funny things to my brain... around the same time you met me and took my case, helping me get off the ground."

Sandy took a brief moment to remember those dark days as the rain continues to hit hard on the roof of the vehicle. The Professor still intently listens. "If only I was able to listen and take the word of the everyone around me, I'd be refreshed from that break and possibly achieved more in my life as a professional wrestler, not wanting to come back and wrestle in WZCW in my forties because I want to fulfil my dreams of becoming a true legend... that's why I kind of envy you now, Steve. You have the chance to get yourself back into shape physically and spending time with the Master will get you spiritually back in the game too."

The Professor grabs the hand on Sandy, rubbing it with a small half-smile on his face, emphasising with her. "But... it's bad to dwell on the past, right? We're here now and the only thing that we can change is the future. For you, that starts by going back to the monastery. For myself, it begins with this Battle Royale that I'm competing in. I made my surprise return at Unscripted and I haven't captured the attention of everyone as I had hoped for... whether it was getting pushed into high-profile matches too early or simple ring rust but I've got a good feeling about this match. If I kick it up a notch with such a vast majority of rookies and veterans alike, I can put myself back on that radar just like Celeste did with one simple victory. I have the tools, the experience and the following of the crowd behind me... what could possibly go wrong?"

At that moment, the Professor taps the neck of Sandy and does a breaking or snapping gesture. The once proud face of Sandy that formed during her speech has now disappeared as the Professor continues to make jokes, pointing his finger up in the sky as it rests on his crotch. He then starts to slowly thrust in the direction of Sandy, who lets out a loud scream and sends an elbow straight into the Professor's happy area. A slight moan can be heard as Sandy covers her mouth and apologies.

"I'm so sorry!" Sandy cries. "I didn't mean to hit you but when someone thrusts in my direction, I freak. Bad child memories..."

Although in pain, the Professor looks up at Sandy with a troubled look. Sandy quickly comes back with an answer: "Oh, it's not as bad as what you're thinking... nothing family related. When I was about 6, my parents had high hopes of me being a figure skater and during a competition, I forgot my routine and started doing dance moves on-the-fly such as the thrust. When I was thrusting my lovely lady lumps off, the crowd was laughing at me and I saw a look of shame in my parents eyes..."

After a moment of reflection and recovery, Sandy starts up Bessie and puts her in gear. "Look at me, dwelling over the past again. I've got to stop doing that... let's get you to the monastery!" As she drives off, she forgets that other cars matter for a moment and crushes everything in her path, leaving a trail of broken metal behind her in the parking lot. The Professor doesn't seem too happy as Sandy continues to drive out of the lot and down the street straight through the middle, causing other cars on the road who were already having trouble keeping a steady path due to the rain swerve to the side to avoid her reckless driving. She turns to him with a smile and says "Still a better driver than Ricky Runn."​

 

[Remix]

Descent​

2 months ago –SWN: Louisiana début show

...The crowd finally has enough, forcing their way through gaps in security and flooding the ring area looking to tear Connor limb from limb. Wrestlers charge down the aisle to take control of the situation. The object of their rage slides out of the ring “right on cue.” He feels a tug as he’s pulled into the river of wrestlers. They step aside to make room for him as he’s dragged away from the danger.

“Kara!” DL Kroeger, the most experienced wrestler in the locker room calls out. “I’ve got him, grab his shit and load the car. He needs to be at the hotel before the mob realises where he’s gone.”

“I can pack my own bags, you know.”

Kroeger doesn’t break his strides towards the nearest exit. “You could, but in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a riot going on and I’d hate to see you get what you deserve.” Kroeger lets the heavy sarcasm sink in and looks back and glares at Reese. “You’re not worth the paperwork the Kens would need to do.”

“And yet you’re the general who rallied the boys so I could escape” Kroeger doesn’t bother answering, merely opening the door and holding it open for Reese and Kara who slides out in front of them making a beeline for Connor’s car.

Kroeger glances at his watch, frowns and floors Connor with a right hand. “What the fuck Reese!” Apparently there’s enough time for him to shout his frustrations before letting Connor leave. Internally, Connor smirks. Kroeger just set up what he’d planned for anyway. “You’re arrogant and unprofessional enough to try and start a riot with a defenceless bystander! Do you have any idea how dangerous your little stunt was.”

The internal smirk crosses over into Reese’s feature. “I didn’t think you were that naive, Kroeger.” He rubs his chin, slowly standing up. “The way I see it, I’ve just done you and the rest of the boys a favour.”

“A favour? If putting their bodies on the line to keep you safe from a drunk mob you intentionally riled to get that response is you helping us I’d hate to see what you’d count as ‘hindering’” Kroeger’s clearly furious at Reese’s stunt.

“Typical. You see Kroeger, you just demonstrated why your generation will be surpassed by people like me.” He checks his teeth, thankfully none missing. “You’ve spent your entire career thinking and acting inside the conventional little box that defines your role in the business. Me? I’m not limited by the conventions laid down by my inferiors.”

“Right” Kroeger’s tone drips with contempt. “So tell me, Reese why we should be thanking you for this opportunity to get banned from this arena?”

“Because, next week you’ll see the size of your paycheque. Do you really think I’d plan to start a riot without a reason? Please; I planted five people to record the chaos and upload the footage to youtube. From there it will be spread by social and traditional media. Alexander also agreed to call in a debt at TMZ to further spread the word of the riot. It’ll get picked up by the sheets, because I’m relevant enough that starting a riot counts as news. can’t buy publicity like that.” He pauses to let what he’s said sink in. “It’s when the line between truth and fiction becomes indistinct that real money can be made in this business, and thanks to you, it became more blurred. By assaulting me you’ve become part of the legend.” He walks towards the car, though not without final parting words. “You’re welcome”

He brushes past Kara on his way to the car, she drops the keys into his hand as he passes. The engine roars to life as he quickly flees the car park. Once he’s most of the way to the safety of the hotel he activates his cell phone to make a call, which is quickly picked up. “Kara, we need to talk...”

One week later Just after the main event of SWN: Louisiana’s second show



The Villain climbs the turnbuckle holding his newly won SWN: North American Championship belt over his head. The crowd his riot drew is on their feet, all united in their hate for their champion. He relishes in it. The feeling of power he had over the sea of marks is intoxicating, and he has power. Every seat sold because of his actions and decisions. Slowly though the people stop booing. From a small core of the audience a chant breaks out,. Not against him, but for the man who inadvertently made himself the hero of the federation.

It becomes unanimous, every man, woman and child chanting one thing. “Kroeger! KROEGER! KROEGER!” Reese plays to the chants, trying to silence them as the volume increases.



The pop is deafening, The Hero emerges basking in the adoration of an enraptured crowd. Next week: Lafayette where The Hero will once again lay his hands on The Villain.

One week later: Shreveport

The bell rings and both men approach their nemesis. Cautiously Kroeger extends a hand which Reese takes, also extending his other, which Kroeger cagily takes. With the Greco-Roman knuckle lock engaged both men attempt to prove that they are the stronger, better man.

Deadlock, no matter. Changing his tactic Reese uses a foot to free one hand, twisting the other into a wristlock and then cravatte. He rolls through with a snapmere variant, rising quickly to plant a foot into the seated Kroeger’s face. That was satisfying, as he stomps on the veteran’s body more before the ref forces him to back off. He does, with some exaggerated exasperation. Kroger gets to his feet, but doesn’t remain on them for long, Reese forces him to the mat with an armdrag, chained before he could react into a textbook armbar.

Close to 20 years experience and he can’t keep up? It would be amusing if it wasn’t so pathetic. Reese loosens the arm to mock his opponent. Messing with his hair, rather than cranking on the arm. Kroeger takes advantage to slip free and retreat for the relative safety of the ropes, pulling himself up. Intent on not allowing respite, Reese follows; perhaps too quickly as he finds himself being tossed over the top rope, though he lands on the apron.

Not for long though, Kroeger’s fist colliding with his jaw knocks him off. A plancha from the wiley Kroeger follows, driving him into the barely padded concrete and the air from his lungs. Kroeger fairs better, rising by the barricade. The sea behind him surging to life in support of their Hero. Reese is slow to get up, the ref’s count fast approaching ten. Kroeger shouts something, it’s swallowed by the crowd’s appreciation though they start a new chant “Fuck the count! FUCK THE COUNT! FUCK THE COUNT!” The ref takes a look at them and complies.

Reese has finally got to his feet, Kroeger charges shouldertackling him back first into the ring apron. A whip across the small gap smashes his ribs into the barricade where fists and scratches from the nearby mob bombard him. This is his game then? Not try and wrestle in the ring but make it a fight outside it. Let his experience and ring knowledge be his weapons. Fine, he knows a thing or two about fighting like this. Not that it’s helping, his hair pulled forcing him away from the crowd before his face is slammed three times into the ring apron and thrown into the steps. Kroeger steps back, getting a runup for his followup.

Reese barely evades the low angle dropkick scrambling to his feet, and back into the ring... or not, Kroeger grabs his foot, hauling him back out. Reese’s eyes widen as he hits the ground again, this time Kroeger’s perfect lariat the cause. The Johannesburg native doesn’t give him a reprieve, bringing the still dazed Reese to his feet. European uppercut, Reese stays up, barely. Again, he staggers this time eyes glazed over. Kroeger gestures to the crowd “One more!?” He yells. The crowd roars their approval, but the move never comes.

Reese’s foot meets Kroeger’s shin before he gets the chance, too surprised to react in time, Reese’s textbook complete shot combination is completed. Kroeger’s head bounces off the apron causing his nose to spout blood. Reese takes a moment to get his bearings and roll into the ring, begging the ref to start counting again. He does, though Kruger’s back into the ring by seven. Reese refuses to give him a chance to play his game again: punting him in the midsection and hitting a snap suplex, chained into a butterfly lock to set up the AES.

Damn the ropes, he’s gotten a foot to them. He releases on two, he’s got standards. This needs to end soon. Kroeger can and will change the game again, which could cost him the match. Kroeger rises at his own pace, Reese allowing him to approach the centre of the ring – away from the ropes. However, Kroeger’s regained enough wits to take charge with a modified sitout powerslam, dropping him to the side, rather than between the legs. Kroeger ascends to the second rope, waiting for Reese to get back to his feet. He dives off in a perfect flying crossbody. It’s not perfect enough to stop Reese rolling through with the momentum putting his challenger in a pinfall. The surprise is enough. Reese has won this battle at least. The war? Who knows, but these fans would pay again.

One Week Later: Baton Rouge

Kroeger stands in the ring, microphone in hand. He signals the packed crowd to quiet down so he can speak “Connor Reese, you won last week. I can not take that away from you. Well done. But we both know how close it was. We both know it could have gone the other way, and deep down that scares you because you didn’t prove yourself better than me. You came here thinking you were better than everyone else. That your crap smells of roses because Alexander Stark got you a contract in the ‘big leagues’. But you aren’t and it doesn’t. Reese, until you’ve beaten me I will be the asterisk associated with your paper championship reign.” He waits a moment while the crowd roars its support. “So Reese, come out here and settle who the best man here is. Is it the handpicked, groomed for glory “Next-Generation Superstar” or “The Once and Future King” DL Kroeger? Or you can hide in your locker room thinking about how lucky you were last week.” The crowd pops at the South African’s confidence and words.



Reese comes out to a chorus of boos, loudest he’s gotten in the state yet. “You’re right Kroeger, I did beat you and it could have gone either way. But there’s a problem with that. It didn’t! You came close, but you weren’t good enough, therefore I’m not going to grant you a rematch until you earn one.” Loud doesn’t begin to cover the boos now. “But, I can give you a chance to earn your match tonight. If you can beat my Number One contender, I will grant you a title match tonight. Do we have a deal Kroeger?”

“Sure, bring him out!”



“My number one contender, and your challenger is your old tag team partner Brent Madrox. Good luck.” Reese drops his microphone and laughs.

The laugh doesn’t last long. As soon as the bell rings, Madrox is doubled over by a boot to the midsection. The crowd winces and cheers as Kroeger hits the Johannesburg Neckbreaker for the three count. Kroeger gets his match after all. Suddenly Reese looks a lot less cocky

One day after Unscripted: SWN: Louisiana show in New Orleans before the show

A tired looking Connor Reese sits down opposite his opponent for the evening, as ever DL Kroeger.

“Long weekend?” Kroeger asks, taking a drink of water from a plastic bottle.

“Isn’t it always?” Kroeger tilts his head to signal his agreement. “I’ve got a question.”

“Ask away.”

“Why is it that here I’m able to succeed when there’s more than pride on the line, but in WZCW I choke.”

Kroeger laughs. “That’s your dilemma? I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out. You’re not the same in WZCW as you are here. Here you know who you are, there’s no ambiguity. You’re the champion, the best ever to walk through the curtain and into the ring, who has no respect for anyone but himself and will start a riot to sell some tickets. There’s no pressure or struggle to be anything other than what you need to be to. In WZCW you’ve got to be that while conforming to what Stark wants the sponsors to see, what he wants as well as what you want to be and do. You’re fighting yourself with the masks you have to wear in WZCW and that’s why you fail. Until you find a way to deal with that you’ll never succeed there like you do here.”

“Thanks Damon, for everything. we wouldn’t be selling tickets like we are without you finding new ways to keep the matches fresh every week.”

“You would, no matter who you’d be facing. I was just in the right place at the right time when I punched you in the face.” Kroeger takes another drink. “So, our match tonight. It has to end here. We’ve been up and down the state. It’s time for a new programme for you, but I can’t just drop it. Not after chasing you for so long. You need to end me.”

“You can’t be serious!” Connor says in pure disbelief. “I am not going to intentionally injure you!"

“What was it you said the first time we met that ‘it’s when the line between truth and fiction becomes indistinct that real money can be made in this business’” Reese scowls at his own words being thrown back at him but doesn’t refuse Kroeger’s suggestion.

A few hours later – Finish to the Main Event

Kroeger and Reese stand on the top rope, as if the latter is trying for a superplex. However, Reese adjusts the positioning, Kroeger’s near arm no longer in position for that move “James, what are you doing?” Fear permeates The Hero’s words

“Ending it!” The Villain says coldly, lifting the Hero while he does. He’s not quite high enough for a suplex though...

“This isn’t what” The Villain falls backwards spiking Kroeger’s head into the ring, quickly transitioning to a neck crank rather than KO:E. The ref quickly pulls him off The Hero’s corpselike body.

DL Kroeger once wrestled for three months on a broken neck. Not again.

 

[red ass skull muhfukkah]

Alhazred is sitting on his toilet reading the Lethal Lottery edition of WZCW Magazine from last year. The entire bathroom has a light shade of brown and yellow to it, the tiles are cracked and stained various colors and the sink is filled with hair and a green water that's been sitting for god know's how long. Alhazred makes a pushing face and a plop is heard in the toilet, he smiles.

He puts down the magazine and from a table next to him he picks up a CD cover from the band Dirty Angels, he looks at it for a moment, rolls it up in a ball and wipes his rear end with it. He tosses it the sink.

He picks up a news article about Jimmy Flynn winning the state wrestling championships. He nods in approval and smiles. The smile turns into a frown and he wipes his rear end with that as well, tossing it in the sink.

He picks up a Barbie doll with a neck brace on it and a Barbie dream car. He rams the car into the Barbie then wipes his rear end with the Barbie, tossing it in the sink.

He picks up a briefcase labeled Stark Talent Agency. He attempts to wipes his rear end with it but it's too big.

Alhazred: FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATS!

Running feet are heard overhead and coming down numerous levels of stairs. Alhazred stands up, pants still down, and waits next to the bathroom door. Fats bursts in

Fats: What is it Al-

Alhazred slams him in the face with the briefcase, knocking him out cold. He tosses the briefcase in the sink. He grabs a match, lights it and tosses it into the sink. The sink comes aBLAZE in an instant. Alhazred then pisses on it to put it out.

He picks up a picture of Sandy Deserts and stares at it. He starts a very slight thrusting motion. He pushes Fats out of the bathroom and closes the door. He sits on the toilet and grabs some hand lotion as the scene fades to black.

 

[Remix]

Misch addresses his opponents and descent in his contractual promo.