Drayden looked at one of the monitors nearby, displaying the camera as it panned over the crowd, as energetic as always. The show’s theme song blared over the speakers, and the camera panned to the commentary desk, where Wade Palmer was bouncing his head to the heavy bass riff as it faded away, and the crowd in attendance were left to their devices, screaming and cheering as Wade spoke into the headset to crowd back home.

“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages…. welcome to AWE Shock n’ Awe, the longest running weekly episodic television show in history. We are coming at you live from Chicago, Illinois, surrounded by thousands of the most passionate wrestling fans in the world, who are just as amped as you to hear what Drayden has to say after his legendary title defense against Caiden Winters at Judgement Day, a match which will be looked on in the years that follow as a classic one, ending when Drayden broke out a move that hasn’t seen the light of day since 2007, when Drayden used it to retire the legendary Blaze Pierson: a burning hammer.” Wade paused for a moment and smiled into the camera, winking his left eye at it. “Of course, I can confidently say that not a single one of you are more excited to hear what he has to say than me.”

Drayden’s music hit and the crowd naturally went nuts. Not only was this the MAN, this was their hometown hero. It was deafening and it didn’t die down, even as the music played and Drayden wasn’t there. He couldn’t bring himself to walk out quite yet, he was savoring the sweet, sweet crowd’s cheers one last time before it all went to shit.

Finally, he pushed his way past the curtain… and headed down to the ring, with a crutch underneath his left side, where his leg was injured. Drayden was limping, with the championship belt strapped around his waist. Man, this sucked. The crowd was just staring at him, the cheering ceased for a moment, before they all realized what was about to happen.

Believe me, I don’t want to go.

Drayden grumbled in his thoughts as he climbed up the stair and into the ring, hobbling over to the side of it and reaching out for a folding chair, which was handed to him. Drayden put the chair down in the center of the ring, then went back and reached out for a microphone. Then he sat down in the chair and let himself enjoy the atmosphere just a while longer.

Drayden finally pulled the microphone up to his lips. “Trust me, I don’t want to go anywhere, but all good things must come to an end. Unfortunately, it’s time for me to take a step back and get some rest. I was informed on Sunday, after my match with Caiden Winters, that I sustained a few… detrimental injuries, and that it was a miracle that my body lasted this long before giving out on me. I’m having surgery tomorrow, and then I’ll be out for… almost a year, they said.” Drayden paused for a second, looking down at the title belt that was now sitting in his lap: his legacy. As he said that he had to be gone, for that long, the crowd couldn’t help themselves: they booed.

“I know believe me, I know. Being gone that long is a joke. But I’ve been doing too much, too fast. I need to slow down and get some rest, unfortunately, or I can never wrestle again.” Drayden paused again, and the crowd cheered, before another… off the wall chant started.

“Now you guys sound like my girlfriend.” Drayden said, and if the place had been deafening with cheers before, the same effect was happening now, though instead of cheers, it was loud and impassioned booing, drowning out almost anyone in the arena’s ability to think. If they loved Drayden, they hated Drayden’s slutty girlfriend who DIDN’T DESERVE IT even more. Barbie was a damn good heel. Drayden cracked a crooked smile, before speaking into the microphone. ”I should have expected that. Now, before I finish up here, I want to make sure that you guys know this isn’t good bye, this is just see you later.”

Drayden looked down at the title in his lap and rapped on it with his knuckles, “time to address this. I don’t know how many fans here in attendance, and how many at home know this but there’s a contractual obligation in all AWE contracts to defend a championship once every thirty days. Due to my injury, I won’t be able to do that. So… As of right now, I’m relinquishing the AWE World Championship.” He said, taking it off of his lap and slowly setting it down on the ground, “but I want whoever holds this next to know that you’re just keeping it warm for me. I’ll be back. And I’ll get my title back.”

Drayden stood up from the chair that he sat in, leaving the title on the ground, and he used the crutches to carry himself up the ramp and to the backstage, showered in cheers as he went off screen. There was only a brief reprieve after he finally walked off stage, before the music for the king of the land hit, and Roddy Quinn himself stood at the top of the stage. The man listened to the reaction he got, before he smiled and headed down toward the stage and toward the AWE Championship, the iconic title that defined this business and frankly defined Roderick’s life.

He walked up the stairs and into the center of the ring, where he took a microphone from a nearby stage hand. “I know what you all are thinking. ‘What are they going to do about the championship?!’ ‘Will Roddy hand it to the person who deserves it the most?’” Roddy Quinn paused for a brief moment as the crowd began to excitedly chant. Roderick had seen this one coming a mile away…



However, the boss was quick to shut those down: “Unfortunately, if you ask me, the only one worthy of holding this title, of holding this trophy that defines the dreams of thousands of professional wrestlers around the globe… has just left the arena. Without Drayden, there isn’t a single person on the roster that I would simply hand this to. No one has earned that right.” Roderick Quinn was showered in boos for shutting down the dream that the fans had of Caiden Winters being the champion. He shook his head as he felt the boos fall down around him, “Now I know you may think that you all know better, but what matters around here isn’t what you want, it’s what I want. Remember that now, or suffer for it later. I’m in charge here, I’m the boss, I’m the man and you pay to watch what I want you to watch. Now, about what I want to watch…”

What did the kids in the back call this? ‘Nuclear heat,’ he’d heard Kevin say. Even with the microphone, by the end of that little spiel, Roddy’s words could barely be heard over the boos that never seemed to stop, never seemed to tire. Roddy let them boo him for a while, even relished it — he was used to being cheered, but this was too easy. Maybe it was just Chicago, who knew? He was happy that he was going to be a prominent character for a few months, before he was gone forever, and he’d enjoy every second of it. Cheering or booing, it didn’t matter how they reacted as long as they reacted.

“What I want you to watch is a tournament, featuring all the prominent members of the roster. At Triple S, the Sin City Showdown in Las Vegas, Nevada at the T-Mobile Arena, the two men who make it to the finals will face off to crown a new champion. Good luck to everyone backstage.” Roddy bent down and picked up the title from the floor of the ring, throwing it over his shoulder. He went to put the microphone down as he prepared to leave the ring with the belt, but paused for a moment, having one last thing to say. “And yes, Caiden Winters will be in it. In fact, his tournament match will be tonight, against Zachary Wake, in your main event.”

The crowd exploded, and with the title over his shoulder, Roderick Quinn nodded to them, smiling slightly, the plan for the future of the heavyweight title being out there and open to the fans. Now, it just had to play out the way they wanted, and he had faith in his writers and his roster to put on the greatest show on earth, night in and night out.

“And remember. The entire world is watching.”

With that last statement, Roderick handed the mic off to a stagehand, and headed backstage with the prize that everyone would be vying for.

The tinkling notes of her theme song prepped Barbie for her entrance and she got in position to walk. The lights of the arena dimmed to near blackness as the intro played. When the first few notes of the song hit, the titantron lit up with her stage name “Barbie Summers” in thick, glittery pink script. The very edges of the screen were bordered with bright white circular lights, very reminiscent of old school movie theater signs, a hint at her Hollywood-sized dreams.

Dressed in a shiny spandex mockery of a purple and pink cheerleader’s uniform, Barbie strutted her stuff down the aisle. The crowd wasted no time greeting her with their usual chorus of boos. Barbie took it in stride, posing for photos and dancing to her theme as if she heard nothing at all. She was a star, and this aisle was her red carpet. Confetti cannons posted along both sides of the aisle blasted glittering gold and silver flecks into air to rain down upon the champion, and some lucky fans. Gold like the title at her waist, and silver like the crown on her head. How lovely.

Upon arriving to the ring, Barbie deftly jumped up to grab the second rope. Using her upper body and core strength, Barbie pulled herself up and pushed her feet forward so that she slid onto the canvas without touching the bottom rope, limbo style. She stood up from the entrance smoothly and did a quick princess wave to the left, and another to the right, before she made her way to the center of the ring.

In the middle of the ring stood an ostentatious, gaudy throne that was draped in silks and flowers to match her outfit. Barbie sat gently in the throne, stuck her nose up in the air, and held out her hand for the referee to place a microphone in. Once he did, Barbie grinned smugly at the crowd before beginning her monologue.

“You know, a girl like me has people… and my people have been telling me some very interesting things recently. Do you know what they’ve been saying to me?" she paused and awaited their response. They booed, naturally. Some even picked up their taunt about sucking Drayden - to which she did not respond to today, she was sticking to her own script, for once.

“I’ve heard that some of you have taken to calling me the Plastic Queen. And, you know?” Barbie mockingly put a hand to her chest as if she was overcome with emotion.

“You know, that is just so cute. Really, it’s quite amusing. Plastic is fake, I get it. How verrry clever. But let me set you straight here... just because I am something that none of you - or any of these other wrestlers - will ever be, doesn’t mean that I am not real. If being THE BEST female wrestler in AWE history makes me fake, then package me up and call me plastic, by all means. Plastic or not, though, you are absolutely right about one thing, Dolls, and that is that I. AM. QUEEN.” The blonde made a show of crossing her legs regally on the throne before toying at a rose petal with her left index finger. Her right hand still held the mic that she spoke into.

“And it has been a very big week for your Queen, in many ways. This week marks the 100 day anniversary of me driving the Evil Sorceress out of the kingdom, isn’t that wonderful? I have had over one hundred glorious, victorious days with this title. It should be a time of celebration for us! But… the festivities must wait, for our King...” Barbie frowned at the crowd, and there was a large part of Barbara frowning behind the character as well. This was a hard time for Drayden, and it broke her heart to see it.

“Our King has to go away for some time. So, my Dolls, it looks like it’s just going to be you and I for a while. While pretender kings may come and try to warm this throne in Drayden’s stead - I want you all to know that the TRUE ROYALS of AWE aren’t going anywhere. Drayden will be back and by my side once more."

Barbie's voice grew harsh and assertive now. “This is our kingdom, and I will continue to rule for the both of us. If anyone thinks they have a right to this throne, they can meet me in the ring where they will only end up bowing at me feet -- Long Live Queen B!”

After cutting her promo, Barbie slid through the ropes and gracefully hopped down from the apron. The ominous wind-chime-like notes of the intro to her power rock theme echoed through the arena. The chorus of boos surrounding her seemed to match the mood of the song; that was more than coincidental. Despite the open heat thrown at her, Barbie sauntered up the ramp towards backstage with the widest of smiles. She paused for a moment and cupped her right hand to her ear, as if they weren’t singing loud enough for her.

“What’s that, Dolls?” the blonde asked, referring to her anti-fans in her usual manner. She turned around and walked backwards up the ramp, holding her hands out in front of her and pulling her fingers towards herself and then away. and then back towards herself again - beckoning them to get louder. The crowd took the cue and booed loud enough to reach the rafters.

“Oh, you haven’t had enough of me, huh?’ Barbie taunted as the cameras panned in to get a better view of her smug grin. “Well, okay then,” she said and did a mock curtsy before the people and then pranced back down the aisle, towards the ring.

Sitting at the center of the desk, where he always did, Wade watched as the AWE Women’s Champion turned around and headed back toward the ring. “I guess… she’s not done yet? Must have a few more… choice words for the fans that are here tonight.” He commented, digging his fingers into the bag of Gummy Octopus in front of him, stuffing one into his mouth. The only way to stop from getting too hype, was to eat candy.

The Plastic Queen walked along the edge of the ring and blew a kiss towards the fans - wrestling fans, not necessarily her fans - on the right. Making her way to the announcer’s desk, Barbie ran a single index finger along the surface, like she was inspecting it for dust. She brought her hand up to get a better look, rubbed her thumb and index finger together, and then shrugged. The reigning diva hopped up onto the desk and planted her cheerleader-esque-skirted bottom right between Wade and Marcus.

“Mind if I join you boys?” Barbie asked, but didn’t wait for any response. Their opinions didn’t matter, a Queen needs no permissions to do as she pleases. She even went so far as to snatch a sugary sea creature from the baggie in front of Wade and took a slow, verging on lewd, bite of it. Chewing on the treat, Barbie turned to MarkyMark Granger and plucked the headset right off of his head.

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically and adjusted the headset so that it wouldn’t displace the small, glittery tiara that Tay had nestled in her blonde pile of curls earlier that day. Mark openly gawked at the entire display, obviously enamored by the sex appeal rolling off of her in waves. “Who do you think you are, looking at me like that? Have you seen my boyfriend?” she asked, catching him staring, and rolled her eyes dramatically.

Being the one with the faster quip, Kane Zimmerman, who leaned back in his chair like he had no care in the world, pulled his shades up and gazed upon the sexually attractive, yet gaudy, blonde. A smirk fell on his face before he chuckled, “Hey, B. If you don’t want to be looked at, maybe you should give up your title like your man was forced to do.” While bringing his chair down, he dug into his pant’s pocket and took out a container of orange tic tacs, Barbie scoffed, not even giving such a statement the time of day. “I’m mildly jealous you chose to sit there, instead of here.” He gestured toward the section between him and Wade and then poured the candy into his mouth. What a tease.

“Maybe if you knew your place, I would have, Kandy Kane.”

“Alright folks, it’s showwwtimmeee. We are starting off the night right with match number one being a women’s tag match. Let’s see who we’ve got coming in tonight, right here on AWE Shock N’ Awe” Marcus Granger announced just moments before the first theme song began.

Knowing that she was the first person up, Tsunami was standing outside the main entrance to the ring. She was looking down, shaking her arms to get looser. The sweet, sweet guitar riff had blared and it was time for Tsunami’s entrance. Her name was splayed all over the titantron as the wrestler ran outside, an arm raised as she sped down the ramp toward the ring. The crowd cheered for her, mostly because of her status as a face. Most people loved her. It was a great feeling to be so loved and well received by her fans.

As she got to the bottom of the ramp, she slowed down and gave a few fans high fives, before going to the other side and giving a few lucky fans the same treatment as well. After doing so, Tsunami made her way to the ring, strutting her stuff up until she got to the ropes. Climbing on the very edge of the canvas, she put her weight on the ropes and turned around, raising her arms, fingers pointed up toward the sky.

The crowd surged with energy. Utilizing that, Tsunami entered the ring and started to shuffle around the edges to keep her muscles warm. This was going to be a rough match and she was going to have to give 110% to keep up with the people she’d be facing.

When that first metal riff hit, and the lights turned green, and the titantron started to play Sydney’s video, the reaction was mixed, both in reception and volume. Sydney was booed because she was a heel, cheered by a few because she did good work in the ring, but didn’t get as loud a reaction as the faces or Barbie, who even without her reputation as a backstage opportunist, still has the mic skills to get any crowd to boo their lungs out. Sydney wished she had that kind of power or presence, but she was no talker. She could give a decent intimidating promo, but like Rosado, she communicated best in the ring without words, just selling the story with her face, her actions, and her body.

Sydney marched out from behind the partition and up the ramp briskly and with purpose. On this occasion, she was wearing desert camo ring gear, a matching military cap, and big black punky boots with as many buckles and zips as could fit onto one pair of boots.

When she reached the ring, she leapt from the floor to the edge of the canvas in a single bound. Who needs steps? She then took off her cap and dumped it unceremoniously on the floor before stepping into the ring, and pacing back and forth, all the time eyeing up Tsunami, as if she was a tiger, and the plucky face had just wandered into her enclosure.

Following the short reprieve as the crowd continued its fading reception, the lights dimmed near to a blackout; this was no power failure, no no, and the excitement was already palpable. It only increased as there came a sound almost like a fancy motor revving up, a vehicle accelerating down a straight road. The choral voices sung over a building beat: EYES FLICKER, HEART BEATS QUICKER INSIDE lyrics mirroring the mood of the crowd whenever a match with this particular wrestler took to the ring...and the skies. The beat continues to build and the lyrics along with it. ’BEFORE WE BEGIN TO SAY GOODBYE...LET’S START MAKING UP… FOR LOST TIME!

As the beat hits hard with its explosive note, the lights flash on, yellow strobes flicker to the beat, and the eruption of cheers is enough to drown out the pumping, thumping, electro track. Rosado wastes little time in appealing to those in attendance, coming from backstage with a front handspring, her flourish being a thrust thumbs up with a smile so wide it could count as a toothpaste commercial. Rosado had a way of working the crowd for different reasons; while some might look to sex appeal or whatever counted for aesthetics - both the wrong things to focus on if Rosado were to have an opinion - Rosado just had an energy and charisma about her that made her incredibly easy to love. Nothing about her was eye catching, from her expressive, though standard and unprettied, face to her attire which looked like something she would wear to the gym: a black sleeveless top, red shorts that weren’t tight on the hips to allow freedom of movement, and shoes. She looked like she wandered in off the street, but the way she walked down the ramp, slapping hands, throwing up hand signs of positivity, and always, always smiling...she belonged here.

Rosado didn’t take the stairs to the apron. She leapt up from the ground and used that momentum to leap again, this time landing on the top rope, balancing atop it just long enough for her music to crescendo again. Rosado bobs her head, looking first to the crowd and then to those already assembled in the ring. Before the music ends, Rosado springs off the rope, landing in a somersault and coming up center of the ring to the last gasps of cheers and applause; the match hadn’t even started and already Rosado was showcasing her energy.

With her music fading, Rosado practically leapt to her corner to give her partner, Tsunami, a pat on the back and an earnest thumbs up. Someone had to be confident, and fortunately Rosado had plenty to spare.

The girls on the ring were soon forgotten the moment the crowd heard the earsplitting screech and the lights began to strobe black and white. The titantron matched in timing for the waves of light and revealed intense close ups of the goth styled Star that was about to grace the crowd with her presence. From her eyes to her lips to a black crossed choker necklace around her neck… anyone who had a goth fetish would surely have wet dreams tonight. And every night, really. The white lights stopped flashing and shifted to red on the drum beat, swiftly panning to reveal the bewitching wrestler known as Morgana. Since her aesthetic was something the crowd always looked forward to, even if some didn’t want to admit it because she was a prevailing heel and unfortunately the former, not current, Sovereign of the Women’s Championship Title, she made sure there was something new at every show.

Before Barbie, she was everyone’s eye candy that they loved to hate. Before Barbie, it was her sensual curves and dynamite sex appeal that all the people cared about. Before Barbie, the Witch was the relevant force, not the stupid, plastic, ooooooh shiny, sparkle bitch, who fucked her way to the top.

Welcome to the entertainment business, world!

Morgana’s makeup was on point, as per usual, thanks to her own skills and Tay’s extra eyes. Her lips were adorned with plum lipstick, her eyes, which were a sharp, icey blue, vibrantly popped due to the dark and smoky eyeshadow and eyeliner to accentuate her provocative expressions. For those who took the time to examine her face, they could see shades of red. Her long, light pink hair was teezed to give her appearance volume, but also the message: this bitch is crazy. Which honestly wasn’t a hairstyle she did often. Her black jeaned shorts hardly had any length and did reveal some flesh, her stomach resembled that of a toned belly dancer, and her tall legs had delicate nylon that reached to her mid thigh (outfit).

There was no fear written on her face, only confidence. Morgana would relish in this moment and every moment she had the spotlight. All eyes would be on her, after all. When the guitar rift started, she strutted down the ramp, that ‘caught on fire’ behind her. Timed well and following her, as if every step she took caused the floor to burn. Letting her body do the talking, her right hand rested on her slender neck and trailed down it to give her fans what they wanted. Her. With her head held up high, her piercing gaze scanned the audience, who were mutually in an uproar. Yelling her name. Telling her to give them hell! Some even throwing shade about her and her feud with Barbie. This only made her… want more. She ate up everything they threw at her. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly.

Keep it comin’ children.

Near the bottom of the ramp, she looked at someone randomly, puckered her lips into a kiss, and winked at them. She didn’t need to sleep her way to the throne to be enticing. Smoothly, she slithered her way to the ring, bent over to slip under a rope, purposely sticking out her voluptuous bottom, and twirled around so she was facing her people again. Lifting her hands up in the air. she beckoned them to get louder. And they did. Her recognizable smirk appeared on her flawless face and she soon after joined her partner, but rather than prowl around Tsunami and Rosado, her attention wasn’t on anyone in the ring.

No. She was looking at the commentator table, where Barbie, who had an irritating, faux smile on, was sitting. God, she hated her.

Barbie waggled her fingers in a mocking wave to the former AWE Women’s Champion. Her sparkling white smile was as fake as the nacho cheese they were serving to the attendees in the stands.

“And what a match this is bound to be. We have Tsunami and Rosado versus Sydney Ellis and Morgana. Excellent, wonderful! You can feel the energy in the crowds, this place is vibrating right now. I can’t tell what’s louder, the cheers or the boos. We will have to see which team reigns supreme.” Marcus chimed in before the start of the match.

“Hah!” Barbie remarked with a light knee slap. “Reigns supreme? We’ve got that wannabe Japanese girl, GI Jane, the freaky mute, and last and certainly least, the has-been Women’s Champion. Supreme isn’t really what comes to my mind here. This just a bunch of girls playing in the sandbox, building sand castles and wishing they were Queen.”

That fuckin’ bitch.

As soon as the bell rung, Sydney stopped circling Tsunami and immediately rushed her, catching her in a grapple and forcing her back towards the corner, making use of her strength and power, which trumped Tsunami’s. Tsunami knew that she was in trouble as soon as she hit the turnbuckle. Sydney was a lot stronger than she was, so clinching up was going to be a nightmare. Tsunami threw some knees at Sydney’s midsection, causing Sydney to loosen her grip. The powerhouse responded with a swift headbutt, before grabbing her opponent and tossing her from the corner to the middle of the ring like a ragdoll. The crowd popped, booing the heel for her brutal treatment of a beloved face. Sydney smirked and slowly advanced upon Tsunami, who was slowly getting to her knees.

Sydney grabbed her head with both hands and pulled her up. Tsunami subsequently countered with a footstomp, freeing herself from Sydney’s grasp as she had the upper hand. She fired with a roundhouse kick to the midsection, pulling it early enough so that it wouldn’t hit Sydney’s gut at full force. Then came an uppercut as Sydney keeled over, aiming for the very edge of her cheek bone.

Tsunami then backed off and got some energy from the crowd, she dashed toward the ropes, letting herself bounce off the rope and converting the momentum she had received into a dropkick, before rolling backwards into a standing position where she thought about what to do to Sydney, who was still lying from the dropkick.

The much smaller woman had a good idea, and started off with an elbow drop, preceded by plenty of theatrics. She then kicked Sydney’s arm. After feeling the crowd cheer, Tsunami pulled Sydney up, grabbing her arms and standing her up so she could hit one of her favorite moves. Closing the distance between them, Tsunami clinched and clasped her arms behind Sydney’s back, before hopping slightly so that she could get the momentum she needed to pull off the belly-to-belly suplex.

Now that Sydney was once again on the floor, she was going for the pin. Amanda didn’t expect Dawn to give up so soon.

“It looks like we have Tsunami closing in for a pin. This early, can it happen?”

Tsunami pulled the leg and listened to the referee, and the crowd count. “1...2…” and then followed the kickout.

“Ohhh, not yet, Tsu. Not yet. The fans are not liking that, it’s clear that they are rooting for their girl over Sydney. What will she do next?”

“Get Jackhammered by Sydney Ellis, that’s what. Watch. This is damned child’s play, Mark.” Kane chuckled to himself. It was obvious which side he was rooting for.

Tsunami looked devastated that she couldn’t get the pin, but she knew that it wasn’t going to happen so soon. She got up, wondering what she was going to do next. Was it time? Was it time to hit the flying triangle?

Tsunami turned to the crowd and raised her arms to get them hyped up. The crowd, the announcers, the referee, and Sydney all knew what was coming next. Tsunami sprinted to the ropes, taking the momentum she would receive from bouncing off, and utilizing it once again to pull off the flying triangle. Once she was close enough she hopped up as high as she could with her legs out. Targeting the shoulders, she wrapped them around and swung herself so that she could get Sydney on the ground. Wrapping her legs around her neck in a triangle, she pretended to squeeze the living lights out of the other wrestler and get her to tap or pass out.

Sydney, however, now that she was being grappled on the floor, was in her element. She quickly overpowered the smaller woman, and put her in a very real looking Kimura lock, before using her free hand to repeatedly deliver stiff blows to Tsunami’s face. Though these were pulled, and the force went across the face instead of into it, they still made legitimate contact. Dawn had already bought Amanda flowers as an apology gesture.

Tsunami’s offence had crumbled as she now lay in a heap on the floor, covering her face. Sydney got to her feet, pulled Tsunami back up, and then delivered a BFT to her, sending her stumbling back into the ropes, on Sydney’s side. Just in case, Sydney pulled her back into the center of the ring to avoid a possible tag, and put Tsunami’s arm over her shoulder, setting her up for the Jackhammer.

Sydney never lost a match on free TV with this move. Hitting it meant game over, so the mere act of setting it up earned her enough heat that she was now met with a cascade of boos, which turned to cheers, when, before she could lift Tsunami up, the plucky face pushed her away. This reversal of fortune was short lived, as Sydney quickly felled her again with a discus clothesline, before making a cover.

“And another attempt at a pin, this time Sydney on top.”

“Yeah, she is.”

1...2...Tsunami kicked out just before the three count. Sydney got back up to her feet and began stamping on the prone wrestler’s head as the booes once again began hailing down. Sydney smiled up at the crowd, before picking Tsunami up like she weighed nothing at all and delivered a powerslam to her, she then took in a second to strut around with her arms open and flexed, laughing after brutalising the crowd’s beloved face.

“Ohhh, this is just hard to watch. Absolutely brutal. Sydney Ellis is hammering on Tsunami. She may have to make a tag soon, this could be the end.”

This was the perfect time to really throw a wrench in things. Barbie Summers seized the opportunity, being the opportunist that she was. “Hey, Morticia.” the reigning champion addressed her well-known foe with a mocking nickname.

“Did you get lost on your way to the nearest freak show? This is professional wrestling, honey. Are you lost?” Barbie teased the dark beauty.

Morgana’s eye twitched at Barbie’s vexatious voice. Tightening her grip on the rope, she visibly grimaced and the camera zoomed in on the pink-haired wrestler’s face, as she grinded her teeth together in undeniable aggravation.

Keep calm. Stay collected.

Lying on the floor, taking deep breaths as Tsunami had just received a rather hard powerslam. She was a little winded from the move, but Sydney was doing a good job letting her recover while she did some theatrics. Then she determined that it was Rosado time. Rolling around, she crawled to Rosado with her arm reached. She could sense that Sydney had figured out what Tsunami was going to do and was going to get to her. But, before she could do anything, Tsunami had posted up with an arm and used it to propel herself forward and tag Rosado in. After doing so, Tsunami rolled out of the canvas so that she could get resituated outside of the ropes.

Why was there so much talking? Was this a match or some stupid teendrama? Everyone talked too much, especially in this match, and it was only serving to do one thing: annoy the ever loving shit out of Rosado. The crowd was cheering as Rosado hopped the ropes to enter the ring, moving with purpose and speed towards Sydney and leaping towards her like a pouncing simian. Rosado latched onto the taller woman and began to deliver quick punches to the head; Rosado’s speed was not enough compensation to knock down Sydney with just a splash, so after delivering her standing punches she leapt off Sydney, landing on her feet like a cat, and charged forward again to continue up the momentum.

Never give them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Words she heard in her head over and over again. Sage advice, almost, and Rosado was certainly following it to a T. A leaping strike. Overbearing offense, what it lacked in strength, it made up for in swiftness and repeated offense. It was like a flurry of slaps, punches, and unorthodox delivery methods for each. Let the catty ones talk talk talk. It made this whole affair easier for one party. With Sydney feeling the brunt of Rosado’s attacks, Rosado used the middle rope to give a kick to Sydney’s midsection, effectively capping her initial flurry of blows. Even Rosado had to take a moment to catch her breath now, but the statement had certainly been made.

“What’s with all the black, anyway? Did the witches kick you out of their coven? No, that’s not it, it’s because you’re in mourning, right? … because of your loss of this -” Barbie gestured to the Championship Belt worn around her waist. Barbie had the sorceress’ attention now. Excellent. “Or mayyybe, it’s just because you’ll never be anything but a mere shadow of your father. What’s it like, little goth, having to constantly live in the shadows of people that are so much better than you?”

Oh, fuck this! Sydney didn’t need her help. Morgana had more important matters to attend to. One being putting this bimbo slut in her place. If there was something that separated ‘the prep and the goth’ it was Morgana put years of blood, sweat, and tears to get where she was today, while Barbie… well.

Jumping down, with only the audience to notice her, but not her partner, Morgana hissed at the blonde that sat her fat ass on the announcer table, “I actually like when you spread filthy lies about me. It means you’re spreading more than just your legs.” Her lips curved into a smirk. Taking a step closer, locking her prominent gaze with her rival, Morgana nonchalantly stretched her arms and mocked back, “Must be nice, though. Thinking you’re something other than trash. Cute, even.” Her notorious kittenish giggle escaped her lips.

Sydney crawls to the ropes, only to find that her tag team partner was not there, but was instead at the announcer table, facing down Barbie. "Hey!” She yelled, slapping the canvas multiple times loudly. "HEEEEEY!”

Again with the stupid talking! Rosado rolled her eyes and held up her right hand and made a mocking hand gesture of a mouth flapping as she pointed at Sydney and the bickering broads down near the table. Their mistake. Rosado’s gain. As Sydney was calling for help, Rosado grabbed a leg and pulled her back to the center of the ring where some stomps were delivered just as a statement, like a red mark through a test, highlighting the mistakes made. Being unable to knock Sydney down earlier, Rosado took the opportunity to deliver mounted strikes to the head before relenting.

Rosado pulled back a moment, long enough for Sydney to rise, which was just long enough for Rosado to admire her handiwork. The girl looked out of it, like she didn’t know what was going on. And Rosado just smiled.

Sydney suddenly shakes her head, quickly snapping out of her post-beatdown trance, before delivering a Rolling Wheel Kick to Rosado’s head, and then flipping back to her feet rather impressively. Sydney was back in the game!

Rosado gave Sydney an inch...now she had to make sure a mile wasn’t taken. Rosado was shaken, wobbly, taking a step back, but maintained the wherewithal and presence of mind not to let this mark the end of the match or her time in the ring. The spot monkey darted into action, meeting the delivered wheel kick with a leap up, a turn, and a kick to the head of Sydney in true enziguri fashion. Rosado landed on her chest, rolled through, and was back on her feet, her smile seeming less whimsical and more sinister with each breath she took.

Sydney recoils, wobbling and drooping, looking like she’s close to falling over, but recovers, and hit another Rolling Wheel kick, connecting firmly with her opponent’s head. This time, she doesn’t flip back, but slowly, and shakily climbs back to her feet.

“Lies? Oh, darkling, these are factual observations. You’re right though, I do love using my legs to get what I want. Just like I did when I had you beggin’ for mercy in a Legally Blonde. Don’t you remember? You remember, right?” Barbie continued to antagonize the witchy wrestler. She was, of course, referencing the infamous submission that put Morgana out of the title, and Barbie into it, over 100 days ago. Barbie crossed her legs daintily and grinned wide with pride, curling a blonde lock of hair around her finger. If she had bubble gum, she would snap a bubble right about now.

Seething with anger, the beast in Morgana was begging to rip out of her and gauge Barbie’s eyes to shreds, but rather than jump at her irrationally, she gave a condescending sneer. Her nostrils flared, her eyes flashed and closed into slits, her hands balled into fists, and with her deadly demeanor, she let out a loud, “HA!” If her eyes were a weapon, the daggers residing within them were aimed right at Barbie’s head, waiting to slash at her delicate face. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is? You may hold the title, but you hide behind the throne. All you do is talk, Barbie Summers.” Morgana inched closer like a predator approaching her prey. Her air of confidence never leaving her. “Without Drayden, you are nothing. You’re only worth what people would pay for you; and that’s not your skills as a wrestler, or even your pretty little face.”

Breaching into Barbie’s space, but still not making any contact, the darkly clad woman gingerly traced her finger down her own chest, “All you have to offer is your body. Oh, and your boyfriend’s talent. The moment you do decide to come out and play, I’ll be waiting, and baby...” Morgana leaned forward. Her breath tickling Barbie’s ear, as she whispered, “I won’t be as forgiving.”

Rosado reels from the kick, her body shook and head stinging. She uses the ropes to stay upright while her eyes narrow towards Sydney. If one wasn’t enough to down the bitch, then here was round two. Another rush forward, another jump, another enziguri to Sydney’s head, with an impact loud enough to carry to the top seats. Again, Rosado landed on her chest, but she vaulted up and continued her assault, a follow through. She was like a dervish, but she was still feeling the effects of twice taking a boot to the head. Her slaps were connecting, her punches were finding the mark, but it was like David and Goliath and David’s sling only had pebbles.

It called for something drastic and flashy, otherwise known as the Rosado Method. After giving another kick to the midsection that didn’t topple the beast, Rosado pulled back and vaulted her way to the top of the turnbuckle, taking only a moment to point to the crowd - this one was for them. Turning on a dime to face the ring, Rosado didn’t hesitate. This monkey was about to fly.

Sydney sees Rosado leap from the top rope, but the powerhouse is ready for the little monkey, and catches her in a fireman’s carry. With a roar, she heaves, and lifts Rosado up into a Military Press, which she hold for a few seconds before dropping Rosado and letting her slam into the canvas. Sparing a few seconds to grin at the heavily booing crowd, she then grabs the back of Rosado’s shirt and lifts her to her feet with just one hand, before swiftly throwing a muscular arm around her throat and locking the Tropical Tamarin in a Standing Chokehold, right in the center of the ring!

“Well, that’s game! We’ve seen that move be locked in time and time again, and there’s almost no way out of it. I guess Sydney’s going to win this match… despite the numbers game.”

Sydney grins, and starts to shake the life out of Rosado, in addition to keeping the move tightly cinched in.

She could get out of this. She knew she could. She was a fighter. And Sydney was shaking a bit...too…

Using the momentum and size difference, Rosado struggled free by following-through and flipping over Sydney’s head, landing with shaking, wobbly feet. Her offense was slowing. Time for the salvo. A kick to the right rib, a kick to the left, a boot to the knee. Her kicks were what she had now. One two. One two. One two. Kick kick. Never give an inch. They were both tired, but Rosado had one more trick up her sleeve. She backed off, retreated back to the top of the turnbuckle, this time taking no moment to appeal to the crowd. Sydney was reeling...this was the moment. The do or die.

Rosado leapt into a forward flip and as she was coming down she grabbed Sydney by the head and dragged her down to the mat by sheer force of gravity and will alone, driving her opponent down. The shooting star DDT hit its mark, and Rosado made sure to go for the cover now that she had toppled the four inch taller giant. One. Two. Three.

“Hmm Hmm Hmm” Barbie held a laugh in her chest haughtily. “Speaking of being all talk…”

The bell sounded and the electro beat of Kuaga (Lost Time) blares to a supportive crowd and a beaming pair of victors.

“Perhaps you should have been paying attention to the match you just lost, Doll.”

Sydney, by this point, had rolled out of the ring, and was supporting herself on the side of the apron, panting heavily, and absolutely livid. She turned to the announcer table, and started to briskly stomp towards Morgana, her so-called tag team partner, who had left her high and dry to fight two opponents. Sydney was not going to take this betrayal lying down, and unbeknownst to Morgana, Fury itself was marching towards her back.

The first the gothic wrestler would know of Sydney’s presence would be a pair of hands grabbing her hair and slamming her face into the announcer table. When she turned to look, she’d see Sydney there, absolutely seething. "Thanks for the help back there, partner!” she shouts in Morgana’s face before proceeding to throw stiff blow after stiff blow into her partner’s face, beating her down until she was floored, dazed and clutching her face.

“Oh, come now. Sometimes you can’t win every battle in the war, no one likes a sore loser, GI Jane.” Barbie quipped, owning her character, never losing the zest that kept the flames of the crowd’s heat for her burning bright.

The military girl, not taking kindly to that remark, then walks over to stare down Barbie for a few tense seconds, before ripping her headset off roughly. She looks down at it, turning it and examining it, amused, before throwing it back in Barbie’s face and marching off, back towards the entrance ramp. The message was clear; ‘You’re all talk and no fight, and that’s funny to me.’

Cameras panned in to get a closer look at Barbie as she adjusted her tiara. After smoothing her hair, she hopped down from the announcer table and stared after the heel with murder in her eyes, her fists balled up tight at her sides.

“What an exciting match we’ve had tonight. It looks like the feud between Morgana and Barbie Summers isn’t dying down in the slightest. With Sydney in on the fight now, things are about to get verrryy heated in the AWE Women’s Division. I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t wait to see what these ladies have in store for us in the weeks to come.” Marcus said in closing, his excitement over the turn of events very evident in his words and facial expressions.

“You can say that again. Let the fire never die out. I’m too into it.” Kane, of course, had to add his last two cents. Hot babes. Hot fights. Hot drama. HOT.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Razorbladeeee!” Joy Ryder had a bright demeanor on, as she always did, and it reflected through her smile. Her blue eyes looked straight into the lense with the utmost confidence and then Chance panned to Alex’s face. Alex looked extremely focused, but there was also the slightest bit of nervousness on his face. While the image rested on Razorblade, Joy brought the mic to her right hand and before bringing it to his lips, she gave him a sympathetic gaze and welcomed him with her first question (they were on a time limit, after all), ”With all the heightened emotions in tonight’s Shock and Awe, I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head, so I have to know, how do you feel about this upcoming match with Chaos Clayton?”

Razorblade gave a smirk to the camera before he began speaking, ”Well, Joy, I’m am super excited for this opportunity. If someone had told me a year ago that I’d have a chance at the AWE World Title, I probably would have laughed right then and there. This is the biggest opportunity in my career, and I’ll admit that I’m VERY nervous. However, I’m not fighting for myself. I’m fighting for every little guy that the world seems to push down. Clayton is just the first step to a journey. What journey that is depends on how well I do.” Razorblade smiled at the camera and started bouncing on his feet and shaking his hands out waiting for the next question.

With a positive gleam, Joy nodded at his words. So far, so good. Razorblade was on the right path and he won over most of the younger generation’s hearts. Underdogs helped kids believe they could be something more than they ever thought they could be. He, along with Chaos Clayton even, still had work ahead of them. They had yet to become full fledged professional wrestlers, but they were getting there, and Joy wanted to help them as much as possible. If she wasn’t mistaken, she had three to five minutes of airtime, so she had to make sure she brought out the most character in Razorblade, in the short span of time. One question down, two more to go. “Going off what you just said, with your journey depending on how well you do, do you think you have what it takes to take down Chaos Clayton? Like what do you think you have over him?” It was time to hopefully bring out the passion in the wrestler. Being humble was all good and dandy, but every wrestler needed to be aware of their strengths and weaknesses, and even better if they knew where they had the advantage over their opponent.

Razorblade looked back to the camera and said, ”Everyone knows that Clayton and I have similar fighting styles, but he doesn’t have the heart I do. If it gets too difficult he’ll look for a cheap way to win. I know all of his tricks. I’ve watched his matches and know exactly how he likes to fight. I’ve also got an up over him in grapples and submissions. All I need to do is lock him in a submission and he is done for. He just can’t last as long as I can.”

Come on, Alex. Bring out your character, exaggerate more. Win your fans over. A devilish grin fell on Joy’s face. With the mic by her lips, she thoughtfully asked (there was a hint of challenge in her tone), “How long can you last, Razorblade? How far are you willing to go? Because there’s a lot of competition out there and you know this business by now. If you don’t have what it takes, you’ll be buried alive.”

”Someone has to be there to put a smile on the kids’ faces. I want to be that person. I will be that person. You wanna know how far I’ll go? I’ll keep going until I can’t move my body, and I do it for them. The kids need a hero. Even if someone says that they can’t, they need someone to show them that they can. That no matter how much the world pushes them down that they can stand up and be champions of their own lives. Now yes, there is a lot of competition in this business, and they’ll do everything they can to push me down. But I will always get back up and prove them wrong. I am--” Razorblade looks a Joy and smirks then continues, ”Razorbladeeee! Remember that name.” He gave his signature howl then walked off smiling.

The camera stood on Joy, as Razorblade walked off. She playfully shook her head at his teasing (since he said his name in the same tone and affliction as she did at the beginning of the interview). She was an expressive woman!

And commercial.

The next match was about to begin.

The lights dimmed in the arena until it was pitch black, the only lights being those from the audience's phones and camera, pointed to the stage entrance. They eagerly awaited the follow up to the tumultuous Women's tag team match. All of a sudden, the beginning guitar riff blared throughout the arena. The signature entrance music of the biggest rebel in AWE history. Red searchlights flooded the arena, soon focusing on the center of the stage, showing a masked figure clad in red and black with his arms held high, facing downwards and hands balled into the devil horns.

As the music reached its first drop, Chaos Clayton threw his arms downwards, synchronising with the pyrotechnics that erupted in a wave either side of him as he finally turned his head upwards onto the crowd. No one could tell, but Duncan was smiling behind his snood. His wide, crazy looking eyes scanned the crowd as he began to stride down the ramp. The crowd exploded with cheers, all hungry for the upcoming havoc that was about to occur. These were the reactions that Duncan lived for. As he reached the end of the ramp, Clayton looked at the crowd again, head turning from left to right before directly facing the camera.



His own catchphrase was bombarding Clayton from the crowd as the Arbiter of Anarchy ran the tip of his thumb across his neck, before whipping around and jumping up on the canvas, gripping onto the ropes. He stepped through, walking a lap of the ring before pacing back and forth in the middle and finally crouching down, looking at the stage, awaiting his opponent. The camera zoomed in, and his eyes was clearly transfixed on the entrance. Clayton extended his arm and fanned his fingers backwards and forwards as his music died down, saying "Bring it!" to the man who was about to walk through.

“All in or nothing, with war and mayhem running through his blood, Chaos Clayton, the guy who just doesn’t give a damn, is about to destroy the ring. Are you NOT ENTERTAINED?!“ Kane voiced into the mic with a wide grin plastered on his face.

The arena became a dimgray when the music for the resident Underdog began playing. Three red spotlights lit up the entrance following Alex as he walked to the center. Dropping to his knees and extending his arms outwards as he took in the cheers of the audience. Alex then stands up and begins running down the ramp high-fiving the fans as he runs down.

Alex runs all the way around to the announcers table. He hops on top takes a deep breath then howls along with the crowd. He was ready to give a good show to his Pack and they were excited to watch. From his position Alex stared right at his opponent and pointed right at him saying something that no one could hear from the added combo of music and fans cheering.

He hopped down then jumped onto the apron. He then propelled himself over the ropes in a flip running straight to the corner afterwards raising his arm in the air with a thumbs up. Hopping off the corner he looked back to Clayton ready to put on the show.

“And it looks like his opponent is ready for the match as well. Will this be the match that propels Razorblade into the main event scene? He’s finally being given a chance, and we are going to get a chance to see it live, right here on Wednesday night Shock n Awe.” Wade Palmer, the beloved voice of the AWE spoke into the microphone as Alex jumped onto the turnbuckle.

The referee signaled to the two fighters, who nodded that they were ready. The bell was rung and the match was underway.

Chaos Clayton strafed right and Razorblade mirrored the movement to the left as they circled each other. Clayton leaned his head from side to side, creepily sizing his opponent up.

Razorblade made sure to keep his hands up ready for whatever Chaos was about to do.

“A chance? We’ll see about that, Wade. Razorblade is still a pup for all I care. A little wolf pup about to pounce on a lion. Who do you think wins?”

“We’ll see. I believe that Razorblade has got so much heart, so much passion for this business… it might just give him the upperhand here. Didn’t your mama ever tell you that it’s not about the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the heart in the dog?”

Slowly they inched towards each other and grappled into a lock-up with neither giving an inch.

Clayton started pushing forward, using his legs to slowly press the Underdog towards the corner, while they tussled back and forth for control. Soon enough, Chaos pressed his weight against Razor on the corner, trying to gain some leverage. The struggle lasted a few moments before the Anarchist could free his right arm and deliver a series of elbow smashes into the shoulder of Razorblade. Only the five count from the referee and his intervention could make Clayton cease his relentless assault as the match official pushed him away from the corner to the centre of the ring.

“Look at that. Sometimes being as reckless and chaotic in the ring as Clayton can be isn’t necessarily a good thing. He damn near got himself disqualified, and if that happened… he can kiss the AWE World Title goodbye.”

“Uh-huh. It ain’t over yet. If anyone is kissing the AWE World Title goodbye, it’s that boy trying to be a man. The Underdog. Which would benefit us all, LET’S BE HONEST.”

Razorblade shook out his shoulder a little as he stepped away from the corner. He waited for the ref to step away from Clayton and paused to let Clayton make the first move.

Clayton cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. He turned on his feet and ran towards the rope, twisting around and bouncing back into it, using his slingshot manoeuvre to propel himself towards Razorblade, shouting as he charges forward.

Razorblade quickly plants his left foot into the ground and just as Chaos gets close spins around launching his right foot in a spinning back kick towards Chaos' head. The impact causes Chaos to fall back hard, as he clutched his head to mimic being hurt. Quickly Razorblade takes this opportunity to set-up for a moonsault over the apron. He hops over while Chaos is still groggy and after a moment launches himself over the ropes toward Clayton.

“Look at that, see? Razorblade clearly has it in him to be a major player in the AWE, but does he have what it takes to be the champion and fill the huge gap left by Drayden? Let’s find out here tonight, live in Chicago.”

Chaos Clayton grunts out in pain as he gets squashed by the moonsault, still reeling from the devastating counter kick that stopped his attempted clothesline.

Razorblade stands up from the successful moonsault and starts to lift Clayton up. Once he is on his knees Razorblade runs to the ropes bouncing off of them going for a shining wizard.

Clayton grabs Razorblades' lower leg as he set up for the Shining Wizard. He leans back onto the mat and twists round, throwing Razor downwards over him.

Razorblade can't do much to try and counter the move and ends up landing right on his back knocking the air out of him.

Chaos finally gets up and stands on his feet. He clasps his hands around Razor's head and lifts him up too before attempting to irish whip him into the corner. "Get ready!" the Anarchist called out. To the crowd, this was a taunt and a warning. For Razor, this was a heads up. Once Razorblade is leant against the turnbuckle and facing him, Clayton charges and yells again, bringing his knee up to collide into the stomach of the Underdog. Leaving his opponent there for a moment, Chaos Clayton turned away to the crowd, making his hands posed as claws and slowly tore apart the air, appealing to the roaring crowd.



“Rip him to shreds and feed him to the dogs.”

“Will you STOP?”

However, Clayton was exposed. Despite knowing it was coming the knee still hurt. It took a second to recoil from it and while Clayton was appealing to the crowd Razorblade came up behind him. He grabbed the back of his neck and his pants. He threw him towards the ropes and was preparing to kick him.

Clayton sprang up onto the ropes, planting his feet onto the bouncy ropes before twisting back, attempting a disaster kick. His eyes went wide as he realised the heavy blow that was about to come his way.

Razorblade ducked under the kick and turned bounced off the ropes then jumped with his feet going straight towards Clayton's face. This time he connected and both landed on the ground. Razorblade then said loud enough for his opponent to hear and no one else, "Go ahead and roll out now." Razorblade moved slowly towards Clayton as if he was going for a pin.

“Look at the height off of that dropkick! It’s unbelievable how athletic this kid is. You can talk down to him all you want, but even you can’t deny it Kane. Kid’s got hops.”

“Bounce, bounce, goes the bunny, but he’s still kind of fluffy. Anyone who told him to be himself couldn’t have given him worse advice.”

Clayton writhed on the ground, groaning from the counter attack. He gave a very slight nod to his opponent as he waited for Razor to inch closer until he rolled away and out of the ring, landing on all fours, exclaiming in pain before collapsing onto the floor panting. He stumbled up to the barricade, catching his breath right in front of the front row crowd before shaking his head and holding onto the side of his head, before looking up at the ring, still looking a bit dazed.

Razorblade stood up visibly frustrated. When he saw Clayton leaning on the barricade he smiled. He stood straight up and belted out a howl which a lot of the fans joined in on. He ran to the ropes opposite of the side Clayton was outside the ring at. Running towards the side Clayton was at Razorblade planted his hands on the ground flipped once then once on his feet again flipped over the ropes into a senton aimed at Clayton.

Both men hit the ground with staged force. Only thing that saved Razorblade from damage was the cushion that was Clayton's body. Razorblade rolled to the barricade and smiled looking at his handiwork. He stood up and looked at the crowd who were chanting.



“Listen to this capacity crowd support their fan favorite! It’s clear who they want to win, and I don’t blame them.”

“Keep talking, Wade. I always yawn when I’m interested.”

Razorblade bent down to pick up Clayton. When he lifted him up Razorblade hit him with a european uppercut. From there he pushed Clayton into the ring and pulled himself to the apron, stopping the ref's countout. He ran to the turnbuckle and hopped on top.

Razorblade sat on the turnbuckle waiting for the signal from Clayton that he was ready. Clayton slowly pulled himself up and stumbled into Razor's path. He looked up and twisted his right foot a few degrees, the signal for Razorblade to jump. Instantly Razorblade jumped off the turnbuckle towards Clayton. Landing on the shoulders of the man, Razorblade leaned back going for a hurricanrana.

Chaos Clayton clasped onto the belt of Razor's shorts, lifting him back up so he was upright. Clayton looked up, nodding slowly while his eyes stared wide, as if they were boring into Razor's mind. When he was lifted back up there was obvious shock on Razorblade's face he went to strike Clayton, but he was too late. Chaos Clayton immediately dropped to his knee, and simultaneously used the power of gravity to slam Razorblade down onto the mat, landing with a sickening thud. Delivering the powerbomb, Clayton leant back and threw his arms out wide, roaring out before scurrying on top and lifting up Razorblade's leg for the pin.

The referee slid over, slapping the apron with each count as well as being echoed by the crowd.

“One, two, three! That’s it, ring the bell!”

“BOOOOOOOYAHHHHHH! What did I say? The pup doesn’t got what it takes! IN YOUR FACE.”

“He tried his damndest, but he just couldn’t get the job done… That’s alright, Razorblade. Be proud of the show you put on, and keep swinging.”

Clayton stood up, and stared down at the defeated Underdog. He threateningly ran his thumb across his neck before twisting and throwing his hands up as rocker symbols in victory. Theme music kicked in as the Anarchist flung over the rope and hopped down from the apron, walking up the ramp and to the backstage, not giving the ring a second look as he disappeared behind the curtains. Chaos Clayton's work was done.

Razorblade slowly rolled out of the ring as Clayton was walking up the ramp. He fell to his knee and after a moment slammed his hand down on the ring. He took his time walking up the ring as the beaten Underdog.

“And now we’ll head backstage, where the winner of this match will be doing an interview with Joy Ryder.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time, CHAOS-” Pause for dramatic effect. “Clayton!” Her blue gaze glinted with elation and anticipation. Chance, as silent as he was, did give Joy subtle cues to show if he was into her performance or not. The image went from her face to Chaos Clayton’s, who was sweaty and obviously looked like he had one hell of a battle. While she congratulated him and asked her first question, she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “Your fight with Razorblade kept me on the edge of my seat. Congrats on your win tonight and tearing the floor up like you usually do! After watching that match, I can’t help but wonder if you might have underestimated your opponent. There were times I thought, wow, the underdog might beat Chaos. Do you agree?”

Duncan was indeed quite tired from the match, but he didn’t mind too much. In fact, he loved interviews with Joy. Duncan took every chance to transform into Clayton, and Joy always did her best to make everyone’s characters even better than one could do by themselves. It’s why she’s been at this for so long. His mask was up, so facial expressions couldn’t do much to convey his emotions. It was all in the eyes, body language, and talking.

He stared down, chuckling a little before looking to Joy. "You corner a dog, Joy…”, the Anarchist began. In his head, Duncan’s mind was racing around, deciding on the next thing to say. He’d never mess with a tournament standings or go against Roddy or the writing team, but when it came to scripts? Fuck scripts. No fun! "...and the dog bites. That kid’s got a helluva bite, but he’s got a long way to go before he’ll prove to me that he’s more than a dog. I wanna see how he can destroy.” Chaos Clayton continued, saying the last word with such glee only a maniac could understand. And in fact, that’s what Clayton was. A true tornado of discord and destruction, and Duncan cherished every moment he could wrestle and act as him. Another chuckle escaped his lips before he tapped the side of his head with his finger a couple of times. "The mind decides how we act, but sometimes not even I will know how I’ll act. That’s why I win. You can’t plan against unpredictable.”

“But isn’t that now predictable for you?” With a raise of her eyebrow, Joy challenged her subject. “Being unpredictable, I mean. Wouldn’t you think, to a degree, having a strategy is necessary? Because who knows what the future has in store for us! The future itself is unpredictable. Chaos would not exist if there was no order.” Her words. that flowed out of her light pink lips naturally and inquisitively, made her think of her brother, who sadly was still in Japan. Everything he did had purpose and he caused an equal amount of destruction. Actually, he probably caused more. The argument here was: Does being unpredictable give you a competitive advantage? In theory, the potential benefits of unpredictability can exceed its cost, but to her, you could lose far more because you are not prepared. The oppose of unpredictable isn’t predictable. The opposite is strategic. How would Clayton be seen as anything but a chaotic fighter? How would his fans see him as a leader, who chooses the game to play and shapes how it’s played, when he goes out on a whim?

In chess, amateurs play for tricks, masters play for position. Does Chaos Clayton have what it takes to be one of the masters? This was his moment to shine and show Roddy that he was more than an uproar. That he wasn’t a happy accident. That he was a Star of American Wrestling Entertainment.

Duncan smiled behind the mask. Damn she’s good. Clayton quickly clapped his hands and pointed at Joy. "That’s it! There, there it is!” He exclaimed excitedly. In fact, he even took the mic right out of Joy’s hand. "The two don’t co-exist off of each other, like parasites to a host. They oppose each other.” He said, as if he had hit some sort of break through. "This is why I’m here. Chaos doesn’t need order to occur. Chaos is freedom! Freedom to do what you like! Take what you want! I’m here to take that Title. I want it! Make no mistake, Joy. Oh no.” As Clayton’s energy grew, he stood up and talked directly to the camera, pacing back and forth as he stakes his claim. “My Age Of Anarchy is upon the AWE!” He announced, getting more excited and sounding more crazy, delusional and most of all, aggressive. Even beginning to shout!

"Anyone who’s against me, who will oppose me, who will try to stop me! They will know the definition of pain when I leave that ring. Strategize… that…” Clayton finished, his wild eyes staring at the camera just those few sweet seconds longer before dropping the mic to Joy’s feet and walking away, out of the camera’s view.

The classic electric guitar riff of one of AWE’s finest veterans blared through the speakers, and a large mix of cheers and boos surrounded Zachary Wake as he stepped onto the entrance ramp, though it was clear that the boos were far more prominent. Zack smiled that glorious smile of his and proceeded down the ramp, purposely timing the walk out to match it with his music. Clothed in his favorite burgundy trunks adorned with the name “WAKE” in golden lettering on the back, Zachary made his way down the metal ramp with his chest held high. Many fans stuck their hands out for high-fives, and Zachary leaned towards them, even extending his hand, but as the fans swung towards Zack, he pulled his hand back close then pointed at the few who went for the high-fives and laughed at them. Their expressions turned sour, and Zack couldn’t get enough of it. Even after being in the business for a full decade, getting heat was still so fun, and the little things like that were the best bits.

Zachary rolled into the ring, and as the music hit 52 seconds, Zack closed his eyes, spread his arms wide and laughed, taking in anything and everything the crowd sent his way. After basking in the noise for a good ten seconds, and as the music faded, he faced the hard cam and flexed his muscles.

“Well, the fans are happy to say how they feel about Zachary Wake, and it isn’t positive. And, I’ve got some good news for those watching at home: we had our last commercial break before this match began, so you’ll be enjoying this one without any further interruptions.” Truth be told, Wade was just as hype as the raucous, on fire crowd was. There wasn’t a damn thing they could mess up with this match; Caiden Winters always had brilliant matches, and Zachary Wake was nothing to sneeze at.

As Zachary Wake’s music came to a close, Caiden Winters did not immediately start. Instead there was a brief pause, as the crowd got hot for the person the desperately wanted to see. Yes, they loved him, despite what he said when he was on the mic, despite how much he claimed to hate the fans, they adored Caiden. And it was hard not to! He was fantastically skilled, and whether the people backstage liked it or not, in this business, in ring ability and psychology got people to love you.

Oh, it felt good. Caiden loved it, even if his character didn’t. That didn’t stop him from playing to the fans, at least a little bit. Working this match, he had been told to play it face; so face he would play. The music hit, and the man himself stepped to the top of the stage. “Is this what you came to see? You come to see me!?” Ooh, felt good.

“You hear the roar of the crowd? They’re answering Caiden Winter’s questions. And that answer is a heartfelt ‘yes.’ Don’t let them down.”

Caiden’s stroll down to the ring continued, and by the time the music got to the chorus, Caiden had rolled into the ring, and was facing Zack; a certain air of confidence about him. He wasn’t going to lose this, no way. This was his time.

Zack met face to face with his opponent, and grinned at him. “You ready, boy?” Each superstar radiated an immense amount of confidence, and the crowd was feeling it smack them in the face. It had been quite a while since these two last met, and now, only one of them would be progressing towards the AWE Championship.

Caiden smirked at his opponent, and nodded. The ring announcer stepped out of the ring, and the referee gestured for the bell to ring… and Caiden opened the match with a quick maneuver, running up to Zachary and jumping up for a dropkick, fluidly bending his body. High energy. The move connected beautifully, and Zack bounced backwards, dropping onto his backside and resting against the ring ropes. He looked up at the man now standing over him with a slight look of shock. The crowd accepted the move, and started up their chanting for Caiden once more.

Caiden grinned at his opponent on the floor after rolling up to his feet. Caiden put a hand up to the side of his head and flicked it out at Zack, firing a finger gun at him. “I know you got better than that in you.” He said, gesturing for Zack to get up and bring it better than that.

“Winters, showing a little bit of confidence here in the beginning of this match! What an explosive way to begin a match that’s sure to be a clinic.”

Zachary happily obliged, and stood up. He then held his arms out and locked them in with Caiden. After a short back and forth struggle for power, Zack gained the upper hand, pushing his opponent up into the corner. The referee broke the hold after a few seconds, but as Zack began to turn away from Caiden, he quickly doubled back and sucker punched him right in the jaw. The crowd booed the action, as they should have, but Zack didn’t stop there. He grabbed Caiden’s head with both hands, then drove a knee into the man’s abdomen. “You wanted to see better? Well you’re gonna get better!” After another punch, Zack grabbed Caiden’s arm with both hands, and dragged him away from the turnbuckles, attempting to throw him into the opposite corner.

Caiden was caught slightly off guard by the attack, but he was ready by the time Zack tried to throw him into the corner, countering and spinning around. He threw Zack into the corner himself but was quick to follow, ready to hit a corner kick and end this quick and clean. Zack expected the skilled Caiden to go for some big, flashy moves, so when he saw a big kick coming his way, Zack quickly ducked down and rolled out of the corner, allowing him some space. Zack turned to the crowd, and with a stern look on his face, shouted. “I AM THE BEST!” This only made the crowd more aggressive towards Wake, but he didn’t care. This match existed to prove that exact point.

Caiden’s response was in the form of a move. Quickly turning out of the corner and running toward the ropes in front of Zack as he struck a pose. He jumped up onto the ropes, and put his feet on the second rope, launching himself into a backflip in the air. He flew backwards and smoothly grabbed Zack’s neck as he landed, dropping him down to the floor in a reverse neckbreaker. Caiden then hopped up to his feet and mimicked Zack’s pose, “I’M BETTER THAN THE BEST!

“This is their chance to prove it! After all, the winner of this match advances in the tournament to crown the next AWE World Champion, an accolade held only by the best in the business.”

Zack held his neck in pain (faking, of course), and slowly crawled over to the ropes, pulling himself back to his feet with his spare hand. Once he got to his feet he tilted his head back and forth, allowing it to create several cracking sounds, and it was fine once more.

Zack took no time waiting for his opponent, and bounced off the ropes behind him, then sprinted towards Caiden, giving the man no time to react, turning around as Wake connected a stiff clothesline, knocking Winters to the ground. Wasting no time, Zack grabbed the downed Caiden’s legs, and mouthed “Liontamer.” Zack then proceeded to lift Winters ever so slightly off the ground, letting him bend his body to get into position.

Caiden’s face contorted in pain and he screamed as he stared into the camera, his face contorted into total agony as Zack twisted him. The referee came near him and yelled, “Do you want to quit?!” The ref demanded, and Caiden shook his head valiantly, lifting himself up on his forearms and crawling toward the ropes in an act of defiance. He would not give up! He had to win the title. Unfortunately for Caiden, the roadblock named Zachary Wake stood in his way. Soon after he began crawling, he was forcefully stopped with a stomp to the head. Zack pulled Caiden back to the centre of the ring, and re-applied the submission.

”WInters has to break this hold! He has to find a way to get new life, new energy, new power to pull himself to the bottom rope! We’ve seen this move put away so many other competitors in the past!”

Caiden was stunned now, and it showed in his face, eyes seemingly dead and empty. At this point, Zachary was laughing out loud, and every now and again turned his head to Caiden, shouting “Come on, give up!” And Caiden was met with supportive cheers from the crowd.

“Look at the life drain out of Winters’s eyes! The pull of Wake on the hold is clearly getting to him, he can’t take much more of this… but listen to the fans, rallying behind a man they love despite his sometimes blatant disregard for them!”

Maybe Caiden could win this match, but not if he was stuck on the ground. Zack noticed the chants, as it was impossible not to, and replied to them with a sour expression. “HE CAN’T WIN!” Caiden was feeling the power of the crowd though, and in a sudden burst of energy, he pulled himself toward the ropes and snatched the bottom one in his hand, and the ref was on it in an instant.

“Break the damn hold, Wake!”

“And Winters got ahold of the rope! Freedom for Caiden! The match rolls on.”

Wake was stunned by the quick movements of his opponent, but when the referee demanded he break it up, Zack didn’t. The ref began counting towards five, and Zack deliberately held onto the move until the count of four. At that point, he let go of Caiden’s legs, and stood up proud. He grabbed Caiden by the hair, and lifted him to his feet, letting Winters use the ropes to pull himself up. As soon as Caiden was on his feet, Wake spun his around and put him in position for his signature stalled suplex. As Wake held Caiden’s head close to his, he spoke in a low voice. “Flip backwards out of the suplex, then you can start your comeback from there.”

Caiden gave Zack a bit of a nod and let himself hover in the air for a while, planking his body stiff into the air, before he let himself roll backwards and out of the suplex. He planted his feet expertly, now behind Zachary. He twisted out of the hold and threw Zachary into the corner. This time, he sped at the opponent and lifted his foot up for the high speed, high energy, powerful kick in the corner that he’d done hundreds of times before. The crowd popped for Caiden finally hitting the move he missed earlier, and Zack put on a stunned expression dropping to the ground in front of him.

“Look at the force on that kick, it damn near knocked Wake’s head off! If he doesn’t show up at the next show, it’s because that kick made him lose his damn memory.”

Caiden rested in the corner for a second, before climbing up to the top ropes. Once he stood atop them, he held his hands out in front of himself, and spun them, “You wanna see it?!” He shouted, and the crowd loudly cheered, and without a second thought, the massive man was in the air, way higher than he had any business being, spinning around 450 degrees, before splashing down onto Zack’s body. Caiden rolled off of his opponent and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back up to his feet so he could set Wake up for the Solstice, and bring this match to an end.

“Winters hitting a beautiful four fifty splash, something a man his size shouldn’t be able to do. What a physical specimen he is.”

Zachary was quickly elevated onto Caiden’s shoulders wide-eyed and shocked. Zachary then belted Winters with a few short forearms, before putting his hand over his opponent’s eye and pretending to gouge at it. Caiden quickly dropped down, and Zack easily stepped off of Caiden’s shoulders. The crowd ate it up, and once again booed the dirty tactics Wake employed. While Caiden grasped his eye in pain, Zachary walked calmly over to one of the corners, and began untying the top turnbuckle. The ref was down next to Caiden, asking him if he was okay and if the injury was serious. Zack dropped the cover to the floor, then turned back to Caiden.

“Winters almost had the WInter Solstice in position; if he hits that move the match is surely over. You might not agree with Zack’s tactics there, but you can’t ignore that they were damn effective. Look at the time he’s getting now to remove the turnbuckle; who knows what he has planned with that?”

Caiden pushed himself up to his feet, shoving the ref away. ”I’m fine, I’m fine.” He spat out, and then quickly moved toward Zack. This match was going well; they worked together smoothly, but time was of the essence. Caiden locked up with Zack and spoke under his breath. “Finish soon. I’ll hit you with the Enzuigiri, ref looks away, you lowblow me from the ground, then roll up. Feet on the ropes, remember? Make it good.”

“You think I won’t make it look good?” Zack replied.

He then grabbed one of Caiden’s arms and pulled it towards the corner with the exposed turnbuckle, but Caiden quickly turned the Irish Whip around once more so that Wake would be on the receiving end of the exposed steel. Wake ran towards the turnbuckle, but as he got closer, he stuck his hands out and grabbed the ropes beside the corner, stopping his momentum. He stared at the steel, then spun around to see one of Caiden’s forearms flying towards his face. Zack scrunched his face up and took the blow, falling backwards and letting his raw flesh meet the cold steel. He screamed in pain, only to be shut up by an uppercut from Winters.

“An oversight from Wake! Caiden counters the Irish Whip and Zack nearly falls victim to his own trap! Now look at Winters, getting ready to end this for certain.”

After the uppercut, Caiden pulled Zack back closer to him and jumped up into the air, driving a kick into the side of his opponent’s skull, hitting his trademark enzuigiri, watching as Zack crumpled down to the ground. Caiden knew at that point that he had the match on lock, jumping back up to his feet as the referee turned around to deal with the uncovered turnbuckle.

“The Enzuigiri was picture perfect, but Caiden has to wait for the referee, to finish dealing with the turnbuckle to count the pin…”

The kick delivered from Caiden rattled Zack’s brain, sure, but it wasn’t enough to end him. Caiden was waiting for the referee to be done fixing the turnbuckle so he could put Zachary behind him and come that step closer to the AWE Championship. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. As the referee finished up tying the turnbuckle back on, Zack got up to his knees and drove an unforgiving fist into Caiden’s groin, and his face said it all.

“A lowblow! Zachary Wake is going to steal a win in the AWE World Title tournament! Not like this!”

With the hand that had delivered the low blow, Wake pulled Winters over him and down to the ground, performing a roll up pin. The referee turned around to this, and immediately got down to begin the pinfall. While the ref was distracted with numbers, Zack hoisted his feet up on the middle ropes, adding some leverage to his pin.

“Wake’s feet are on the ropes, elevating the pressure on the pin! That bastard is stealing the damn match right out from under Winters! Winters had him, and Wake used the ref’s distraction to his advantage and hit the damn lowblow!”

“One, two, three! That’s it, ring the bell!”

And with that, Wake had won, and was now a step further towards the World Championship. Zachary’s theme started up once more, and it was official. The crowd didn’t like it, and Caiden sure as hell hated it, but Zachary Wake couldn’t be happier. Caiden was laying there, sitting up in disbelief as Zack basked in the heat before heading to the back. After he went backstage, the music was cut, but Caiden still sat there, the same look in his eye.

“And you have to feel for Winters right now. He was going to win the match fair and square, but like he’s done so many times before… Zachary Wake cheated to improve his own standing here in the AWE… Just downright despicable.”

He stood up and slowly walked over to the referee, reaching outside of the ropes and asking for a mic, which was handed to him. “Do you know what you just did? Do you understand?” He demanded, and the smaller man slapped his hands together three times. One two three. “You didn’t see him hit that lowblow on me?! You… you…” Caiden stepped closer to the referee.

“The ref didn’t see it, he just called the match down the middle as best he could. It wasn’t his fault.”

“You’re dead.” The mic was dropped and the crowd exploded as Caiden laid his hands on the referee, punching him in the face again and again before lifting him up onto his shoulders, and dropping him down to the mat with a vicious Winter Solstice. Then, Caiden picked him up again… another Winter Solstice. He picked him up again… one more. This time, Caiden left the ref’s limp body in the middle of the ring, picking up the mic. ”It isn’t going to end like that. Roddy… I got a bone to pick with you…” He growled into the microphone before sliding through the ring ropes and heading up toward the backstage, his music now playing over the speakers, the last shot the camera showed being the ref, seemingly as dead as Caiden had promised, laying in a lump in the middle of the ring, ring doctors sprinting past Winters to check on him.

“What did we just see? Caiden Winters laid his hands on an official, left him broken and battered in the ring, and left a message for Roderick Quinn. Luckily for you, in ten minutes, on AWE After Hours, Joy Ryder and mine first guest will be none other than Caiden Winters. Stay tuned on AWE,com to see if we can shed some light on this.”

The lights dimmed, and the cameras shut off. Show’s over.

With the queue that the camera was indeed speeding, Joy’s on-air persona flooded over and she shook her head, smiling at Wade, “The referee might actually be dead.”

“Which raises the question of: did he deserve it? No, absolutely not. You never put your hands on the official when you’re out there, no matter what happens. If they make a miscall, then so be it. They’re out there doing their jobs, and their job isn’t to fight the competitors.” Wade reached under the table, where he kept his snacks, and withdrew a can of Pringles — original of course — and popped a couple into his mouth, crunching them thoughtfully. “Caiden Winters is going to be fired, you know. And he deserves it. Or, at least suspended.”

Joy visibly grimace in front of the camera. Yeah, no. She was going going to argue her point. The referee deserved ‘dying’ because he failed to do his JOB. “Y’know, Wade, you don’t notice the referee unless he makes a bad call. And here tonight, he made a call that could ruin an exceptionally talented wrestler’s career. I’d like to think we’re all referees at heart. We like to call the throws and errors. Caiden Winters is indispensable. He’s far too loved and far too talented. Losing him would cause unwarranted backlash for the AWE.”

Wade shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, I love him as much as the next person, maybe more than anyone else, but I don’t think it’d be that huge of a dent. The shadow is always filled in the end. Nobody here is fully indispensable.” Wade explained as he crunched on some Pringles, nodding to accentuate his point. “Putting your hands on an innocent official is just as reprehensible as cheating to win.”

Narrowing her eyes at her mentor, Joy didn’t respond for a brief second. He was doing this on purpose. She was already heated and this was doubling that. “Oh? So you’re saying that not even Drayden is fully indispensable?” she challenged Wade. This. Was. War. “If a referee can’t do his job he shouldn’t be out there calling the shots and determining the AWE history.”

“Yeah, I would happily argue that Drayden isn’t indispensable. I believe fully that everyone in the AWE could be in that spot — and maybe before tonight, I thought it was a certainty that Caiden would be stepping up to the plate to take that spot, but I don’t know anymore. Maybe he’s not what I thought he was, maybe he’s not what any of us thought he was. These things happen, and I know it sucks that the referee didn’t see it, but… you have to look at it from his perspective. The ref calls it as he sees it; he doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head. He had to cover up the turnbuckle that was exposed when the low blow happened, he was thoroughly distracted. He was doing his job.” A couple more moments of getting her riled up, then he’d call Caiden on.

“And now he’s dead.” Joy looked away from Wade and to the camera, grabbing her glass of water and lifting it up to the audience, “Ain’t that right, fans? He was warned, wasn’t he? Caiden does kill.” she aggressively sipped at her water, fire in her eyes.

Wade shrugged his shoulders, “Well, I guess you can ask him about the situation yourself, because as I’ve just been informed: Caiden Winters is not, as of this moment, either suspended, nor has he been given well wishes for all his future endeavors. In fact, quite the opposite. He’s going to be our guest tonight.” Wade said, and the man himself walked onto the stage, a clear air of frustration and anger around him as he headed onto the set and took a seat next to Joy.

“Now, I don’t really feel like talking, but it turns out Roddy is too scared to let me anywhere near him, so I guess I will. Hi, I’m Caiden Winters, and if you’re wondering, if you should believe what Joy just said, yeah. You should. I’m a killer.”

Wade looked over at Joy, and stuffed a few more Pringles into his mouth, waiting for the inevitable explosion of words.

Joy caught her gaze with Caiden, as her mind instinctively thought about her next course of actions. With a mischievous smirk, she turned her head toward Wade’s direction and tilted her head, still not agreeing with him, “Caiden, I’m so glad you could be here with us tonight, but what I can’t fathom is why Mr. Palmer here thinks the referee was completely innocent, do you agree?”

“No, I don’t. But, I finished my issues with him out there, don’t ya think? I beat his damn ass, and it’ll be a miracle if he makes it to another show. The person that I have a problem with… is the man upstairs. Roddy Quinn. Roderick Quinn. The man who damn near didn’t sign me because he didn’t think I was good enough to wrestle in his stupid company. That title shouldn’t even be decided in a fu— tournament.” Caiden bit his tongue and Wade held back a smile as he took the chance to speak.

“And what do you think should be done for it? The champion won his last title defense —”

“That title should be around my waist! I don’t care if he won the match, I don’t care if Drayden beat me—” Caiden paused for a moment, before spitting out in his best Wade impression, “-- fair and square in the middle of that ring. I kept my promise. I said that Drayden wouldn’t make it out of the arena on his own two feet. And he didn’t. I did say that, you remember, Joy?”

Taking another sip of water, she nodded in agreement, “I sure do. You were the first wrestler on Do or Die. Caiden Winters never breaks his promises. Not then, not today, not ever. And what did you say specifically tonight?” Once again, Joy looked at Wade, enjoying this After Show thoroughly. “You’re dead.”

“That’s right. And you know what else I said? That I am better than the best. I am actually as good as everyone else out there pretends to be, it’s scary. The fact that Roddy thinks he can hold me back, by putting together a tournament, and then putting me against someone who CONSISTENTLY cheats to win. So he cheats. He wins the match on a technicality, and now what? I’m out of it? I don’t get a chance at the world title now? Nobody else in this tournament earned their spot, I earned my right to be the number one contender before I broke his damn knee.” Caiden leaned forward toward the camera, shaking his head. “I’m going to take this show over. One step at a time, and if Roderick Quinn thinks that he can hold me back by screwing me out of what should be my title, then he’d better walk his ass out to the ring and hold me back himself. I’m done playing games.”

Joy’s gaze was fully locked on Caiden now. “And what are you going to do, Caiden Winters? How are you going to get Roddy’s attention? FULL attention?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” And with that, Caiden dropped the mic he’d been holding on the floor, pushed himself away from the glass desk, and walked off screen.

“Well, he’s certainly got a chip on his shoulder…”

“I do… want to know.” Joy softly responded, holding her glass of water with both hands. She’d be waiting to see what he had in store for the AWE. She couldn’t wait.

A slightly nervous Ian, now ready to go as Owen Sparks, stood behind the curtain. He gave his arms one final stretch before the shredding of the electric guitar in his theme song began. After Sexton’s insightful words from the week prior, Owen stepped out from behind the curtain, microphone in hand, and began to walk down the ramp of Shock ‘n’ Awe.

“Los Angeles, how’s it going?!” The crowd gave cheers here and there, though none were as big as a proper, well-known wrestler like Caiden or Drayden. Listening to Sexton’s advice, Owen continued.

“You know, I’ve always loved this place. California seems like the place to be, and I’m going to prove that I deserve to be here.” Owen walked up the steel stairs beside the ring and onto the apron. “Tonight, I face Kidd Neon.” He then went in between the middle and top ropes, and stepped into the center of the ring. “And Kidd Neon doesn’t deserve to be here. I am here to show you that I deserve to be in this championship tournament. I am going to prove-”

“And it looks like Kidd Neon doesn’t want to hear any of what Owen has to say. And, really, who can blame him? Two young upstarts are getting a chance to showcase their abilities here.”

The auto-tuned voice of Kidd Neon’s theme song played over the arena’s loud speakers, interrupting Owen. Kidd Neon stepped out onto the ramp, throwing his hands up in the air as he looked out at the crowd. He made his way to the ring, looking like a psychedelic mess with his glowsticks and reflective strips on his pants, and also hiding the fact that he hated his theme music. Owen turned to face his opponent, shielding his eyes from the bright lights the boy produced.

At the ring Kidd Neon approached Owen with a look of contempt on his face, and started speaking into the microphone. Owen held it out for Neon to speak, all the while wearing a nonplussed expression. “I don’t belong here? I’ve traveled into higher states of consciousness and communed with the rave spirit that infuses our lifecore, yet you arrive on the scene and will take my place? You’re just like someone starting a rock band in 2017, an upstart with a stupid dream and no future.” Some boos came out after he took a cheap dig at the crowd’s musical tastes.

“Questionable music tastes aside, it’s time for Neon to prove his point. Does he belong here? The AWE fans don’t think so, and he’s only got this one shot to prove them wrong. Not even the passionate fans of our company from around the world could question if he belongs here if he won the AWE World Championship.”

“Dude, who cares about all that! What is he even ON? The rave spirit? Lifecore? As long as I don’t hear that bass drop again, we’re good.”

Owen couldn’t help but laugh at the verbal attack. “I’m sorry, I should rephrase that; you don’t belong anywhere near a wrestling ring, Neon. Your flashing lights give me migraines and your taste in music isn’t any better.” The crowd politely cheered at Owen’s insults, yet he wasn’t done. “And you think I’ve got a stupid dream, and that I’m going nowhere? Think again. I’m going places, places much higher than you ever have or will.” And with that, Owen dropped his mic, then battered Kidd Neon with a quick forearm. The crowd lit up at the sight of this, and cheers came from all over. Owen beckoned the referee into the ring, who rid the ring of the microphone, and rang the bell.

“And just like that, this match is underway! Let’s see what these two have for us tonight!”

“Y’know, if Kidd actually drops Owen like he drops the bass, I might expect more from him. Better bring the fire.”

Owen wasted no time following up the strike with a rather fake looking right hand, then pressed Neon against the ropes and jerked Neon’s arm towards him, irish whipping Neon to the ropes on the other side of the ring. Without slowing down, Owen ran after Neon, and as Neon turned to bounce off of the ropes, Owen’s right elbow had a rough collision with Neon’s jaw. Owen spun anti-clockwise out of the strike, then backed up to the ropes behind him, where he once more began running, using the ropes to propel himself at a right angle towards Kidd Neon.

As Owen ran, Kidd Neon wrapped his arm around his upper torso and bent his knees, but then paused for a moment, realising the two had screwed up the timing, before pushing him back to the ropes and sending him bouncing off again.

“Look at the defense mindset of Kidd Neon, shoving Sparks away just in time. It doesn’t get better than this.”

On the second approach, Neon got his arm in position and this time jumped into the air, taking Owen by his side with him as he completed the moonsault. Both wrestlers flew into the air and landed on the mat with a crash. Neon got up to his feet right after landing, and started mocking Owen as he laid on the mat, getting into his face and shouting at him.

“Hell to the yeah, ladies and gents. That’s why that mindset pays off. An effortless Energy Flash from the Kidd.”

Without missing a beat, Owen coiled up his legs and as Neon approached he stuck them out, kicking Neon in the stomach. The strike was admittedly a bit stiff, but as they had done many times before, both got into position for their next spot. Kidd Neon backed up into a corner, and Owen ran from the centre of the ring towards him. As Owen got close, he jumped, feet landing on Neon’s waist, and hands clutched his neck. Owen leant back, and as he dropped to the ground and Neon was above him, he kicked his feet up, attempting to monkey flip his opponent. The crowd got riled up for the potential for Owen to gain a quick victory, but those cheers were quickly silenced as Neon, easily flipped out of the hold and to his feet.

Kidd Neon dropped down and rolled out of the ring, then standing and turning to the Los Angeles crowd, full of fans from his hometown and held his arms wide open, expecting to hear cheers from seeing one of their own in the big leagues. And the crowd did cheer, but not for the reason the boy expected. Owen, still inside the ring, bounced off of the ropes opposite to Neon and sprinted towards him. Owen dived in between the middle and bottom ropes, launching himself at Neon. The two both fell to the ground, but Owen quickly stood up to the cheers of many. He stuck a finger up in the air and spun it around, indicating “one more time”.

“Look at the dive from Owen! Crazy athleticism from such a young talent. These two are both kids we’re sure to see around for a long time to come.”

“AWE will make them great. Are we staring at our next champion? WE’LL SEE. They got a lot of competition out there, but at least they got spunk. I’ll give them that.”

Owen climbed back into the ring and jumped up to the turnbuckle closest to Neon. He positioned his feet in a way that would allow him to get a nice jump, but almost slipped doing so, having to bend down and hold onto the corner to stay in his precarious position. Neon slowly stood up and turned to face Owen, acting slightly dazed. As soon as he did, Owen leaped off of the turnbuckle, reaching a tremendous height before crashing down with a flying cross body.

“The height! The young lions are putting it all on the line for the entertainment of this crowd, and it’s awesome. We just might be looking at the next champion, don’t you think?”

“They ain’t got manes yet. I’ll wait and see what else they have in store for us.”

The landing was rough, and both wrestlers were definitely going to be bruised for the next week. As the two laid doing in a heap, Owen whispered to Kidd Neon. “Let’s go into the kicks next. Make sure to sell the dives, though.” Neither of the competitors were amazing at selling, but they were both smart enough to know that no-selling big outside dives like that was plain stupid.

Owen picked his opponent up, and rolled him into the ring, going for a quick cover. The referee got down and began counting. One, two, and a quick shoulder up. As Owen was standing up, Neon rolled forward and threw out his legs, connecting against Owen’s head with the sole of his foot. Owen retaliated with a roundhouse kick, which Neon ducked under, but followed up with another kick with his other foot, all in one fluid motion. Neon shook his head and put one hand on his jaw after that impact, then frowned and ducked low for a sweeping kick that fell short, but he kept moving. Now he bounced up off the mat and turned onto his side, standing on one hand and hammering Owen straight in the temple with the tip of his foot. Owen tumbled to the side, but bounced off of the ropes behind him and jumped up, nailing Neon in the chin with a simple dropkick. As Neon was still reeling from the kick, Owen placed his hands beside his head and kicked up from his back, flipping onto his feet, then quickly placed one foot on Neon’s hip, and swung the other towards Neon on the other side of his body, connecting with a solid enziguri.

“Kick after kick after kick. I didn’t even know there were so many different ways to kick… learn something new every damn day.”

“Like a BRUCE LEE MOVIE, WADE! Shi---”

“Chill man, chill.”

Kidd Neon tumbled down landing flat on his side, shaking and writhing to sell the impact as he laid on the ground next to the turnbuckle. Owen saw an opportunity and started to pick up speed, holding his arm out like he was ready for an elbow drop. Neon jumped to his feet before Owen reached him, then lept onto the second rope and flung himself into the air. He dove over the head of Owen Sparks and wrapped one arm around his neck, then in one swinging motion brought him down to mat headfirst.

After a quick taunt consisting of doing the famous Melbourne Shuffle beside Owen as he lay collapsed on the ground, Kidd Neon helped him up only to send him into the ropes with an irish whip. Neon started running the ropes himself, sliding under Owen’s legs as the first passed each other, then leaping into the air and wrapping his legs around his head as the crossed paths again on the return trip. Both wrestlers spun around as the grip of Neon’s legs held tight around Owen’s neck, then Neon reached his arms over and wrapped up one Owen’s arms as he released his main grip. Again Owen’s face smacked the canvas as they hit the ground, and Kidd Neon wrenched the arm back as he returned to his feet.

Still gripping the arm, Neon stepped over it with one leg and wrapped it around the other leg as he spun around. He dived over Owen, grabbed hold of his shoulder in the middle of the roll, before landing and pinning him to the mat. With a leg entangling one of Owen’s arms and his arms cradling the other side, Neon had solid leverage for the pinfall. The referee knelt down to count the pin, shouting one, two then a sloppy kick out from Owen. The referee had to pull his arm away at the last minute as he almost counted the three.

Both wrestlers backed away to opposite corners, taking a moment to rest, prepare for the finish to the match, and allow the crowd to start up a chant.

“Look at that offense, just unbelievable the way he can maneuver like that. So impressive, are these young wrestlers, full of heart and energy and ready to prove to the world that they’re the best around.”

Let’s go Owen!
Owen sucks!

Let’s go Owen!
Owen sucks!

_{“Let’s go Owen…. Owen sucks.”}

Owen smiled at the sound of the chants, and laughed when Neon acted offended. “Wait, he probably is offended. Oops.” Owen then gave a tiny, inconspicuous nod to Neon, and Neon nodded back, signifying the two were both ready. With that, Owen ran towards Neon, jumping and attempting to clothesline him into the corner. However, Neon ducked and rolled out of the way, making Owen faceplant into the top turnbuckle. Owen turned around so he was facing away from the corner, and Neon repeated Owen’s action, landing with the clothesline. Neon then grabbed Owen by the shoulders, who lifted a knee into Neon’s stomach. Owen then grabbed Neon and spun him around so he was in the corner. Next, he aided Neon in climbing up so he was sitting on the top turnbuckle. Owen took a few steps back before charging forward and stepping up with his left foot on the middle turnbuckle, then jumping up and kicking Neon in the temple with one more enziguri. Owen landed flat on his back but quickly stood back up, catching Neon sideways as he wobbled around and fell of the turnbuckle.

From this, Owen walked to the centre of the ring, directly facing the hard camera. Some of the members of the crowd stood up and cheered, knowing this was the beginning of the end. Owen spun Kidd Neon clockwise, letting go of him with his left hand and dropping to one knee, allowing Neon’s back to fall onto that knee for a picture perfect Swinging Backbreaker. If there was one thing these two were good at, it was selling each other’s finishers. As Neon writhed in pain on the mat, Owen stood in front of and looking away from him, then quickly jumped backwards into a Standing Corkscrew Moonsault, then remained on top of Neon to the referee’s count of three.

“Sparks got HOPS!”

Right as the referee slapped the mat for the last part of the count, Neon burst up with one shoulder, just too late to avoid losing. He didn’t clear it with Owen first, but the result was the same, Owen had won.

“And just like that, Owen has advanced in the tournament! Can he make it all the way? Stay tuned to find out.”

Owen slowly rose up to his feet, then allowed the referee to raise his factor at the victor. Before his theme started up once more, Owen grabbed a microphone from one of the guys standing on the outside of the ring. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is proof. I don’t care who’s next, because I am on my way to the top!” Neon made a show of making an angry face and staring down Owen, but ultimately said nothing before walking off.

The crowd was absolutely livid, lively, and loud. Why? Because her theme song started off with her father’s intro with the steady heartbeat before the screech of her theme song came into play, causing the audience to have a near heart attack for a second, believing The Faceless was making an appearance. She did, however, wore his mask and everything that was planned had intention. She wanted them to remember. The AWE’s history is what brings them back to their seats, here at the STAPLES Center, and any stadium for that matter. Part of the AWE’s history was the beast that was her father. When Morgana was at the center of the ring, she let the crowd’s rage fill her with vigor as she stood there still, crossed arms, like her dad would do. When she was ready, and only when she was ready, she took the mask off slowly, gradually, with care, revealing her pale face. She looked down at it in total silence, listening to the crowd settling down, waiting for her to talk.

It was her time to shine.

Grabbing the mic away from the referee, Morgana brought it close to her lips and maliciously snickered, “Fooled ya.” And strutted around the platform, her ravishing hips moving with every prominent step she took. Her amorous face was what they’ve all been waiting for and so she would let them take her in.

Eat it up, babies.

As she seductively serenaded the masses with her nectar sweet words, she kept a tight grip on her father’s mask, “How many of you paid attention to our last show? If I remember correctly, I was told by a special someone, I don’t think I need to drop names for you all to know who, that I will never be anything but a mere shadow of my father. ‘What’s it like, little goth’, having to constantly live in the shadows of people that are sooooooo muchhhh better than you?’” There was undeniable mockery in Morgana’s tone when she quoted Barbie, emphasizing the valley girl that made her cringe on the inside and out.

Completely amused, her smile gleaming brightly, she widely grinned, “Give respect where respect is due. I am here, thanks to my father. If it weren’t for him, how would I have known that I am a true serpent in the still waters of the AWE? I am the fear in their souls. I am hell on Earth. The desire in me is far greater than any ‘doll’ that thinks they’re worthy for more than just a hand clap.” She softly patted her mic hand with her father’s mask to display her giving a slow and steady clap to the other divas. “I’m hungry. I want to throw anyone who gets in my way to the hounds. How would I have known how starving I was until I was fed? My fathers gave me a foundation. And I built my own legacy from it. Oh yes! I say fathers.” She paused and waved the mask in front of her face, with conviction and utmost seriousness with the words that flowed out her lush lips, that felt like venom coursing through their veins.

“Wouldn’t you say Roddy Quinn is daddy too? Not just for me, but for my father, and every star he gives the benefit of the doubt. Every star he FEEDS so that they can get a hunger that is hard to satisfy. That desire that can only be given after you take the bite of the apple from his garden of Eden. Oh!” Morgana dramatically gasped in surprise, her eyes widening, “Wait…”

Pause.

“When you think of Barbie what’s the first thing you think of? That she’s pretty in pink? Or that she too is what she calls a shadow of other people. Mm, especially the shadow of her Dray-dee-poo.”

By now the enchantress was by the rope, leaning on it and scanning the audience with her crystal blue eyes, “If she were alone, would she have built the kingdom that she wanted? Happily ever afters don’t last forever, especially to those that don’t respect the ones that help her lift her heavy crown. I don’t see a warrior. I don’t see a soul shining with royalty. I don’t see the hunger in her eyes. I see nothing.”

Morgana would be interrupted by another voice suddenly being heard in the arena, and it simply said, “You want to talk about people being nothing?” The crowd was left confused but the voice. It was not one they recognised immediately, but that was because it was not one used to talking. After a few seconds pause, it added the word; “Partner?” Now people were starting to catch on. At that moment, Sydney, in baggy green cargo pants, a black zip-up hoodie and her military camo cap with mic in hand, started to make her way down the ramp, met with a loud but mixed reaction. She was cheered for interrupting Morgana, but booed because the crowd remembered her treatment of Tsunami and Rosado last week. She brought the mic back to her face when she was halfway down the ramp.

“Last week, I lost a two-on-one handicap match. You might remember it. You were there, watching, posing and running your mouth while REAL wrestlers actually stayed at the ring, and wrestled. Oh no, wait. It was a tag match! And you were my partner! I remember now!"

By this time, she’d got to the ring, and slid under the ropes, getting to her feet. Now they were sharing the ring. "There are more women in this division than Barbie. I don’t care that you were the Champion a hundred days ago. I care that last week, you were supposed to have my back, and you didn’t, and I’m not the kind of woman you want to do that to. I might take it personally.”

There was always someone who wanted to take her limelight. Yawning widely, Morgana turned her body to face Sydney, who finally was using her voice for once. Wasn’t that absolutely delightful? “Then take it personally. At least then you’d be someone worth remembering.” Her lip pulled up in that wicked, devilish smirk she was known for.

Sydney lowered the mic, and started to walk slowly and purposefully towards Morgana, the expression on her face making it look like she was actually trying to kill her. ‘Stick to your strengths’, Dawn had been told earlier. She wasn’t the best promo-giver in the world, but being a soldier gave you a few skills when it came to being intimidating. After a few very tense seconds, Sydney smiled, though it was not a happy smile. She brought the mic back up to her face, and merely replied with "Oh yeah, speaking of remembering, that reminds me. How’s your face?” The ‘Oooooh!’ s started from the crowd. Even with Sydney’s dominant streak, it had been a good guideline for the women’s division to not piss Morgana off.

Morgana, or Mileena internally, gave Sydney a glint of respect from that comment, though externally, she glared at the wrestler that was testing her patience. “It’s seen better days. Actually, I was kind of disappointed. You could’ve done so much better.” Not only a sadist, but also a masochist. “It amazes me that you believed we could ever be partners. You want to be on my level?” With apathy, Morgana closed the space in between them. They were scarily close to one another. Chests only centimeters apart. “Climb, soldier.”

Those words took Dawn back to her own training. She tried to picture the Drill Sergeant in her head. Their mannerisms, their face, their venom. She’d need as much as she could get to make this like work.

With the deadliest and most venomous of stares Sydney had ever given, she sneered and then spoke, in a low, quiet, chilling voice; "Are you challenging me, Morgana? Because if you want a match, I’d be very happy to oblige you.” They stared at each other with hate for a little while longer, before Sydney dropped the bombshell.

"You’re not scary, Morgana. I know you get told that a lot, but people still tell you because you haven’t done anything about it. You’re just a pale ghost of your daddy. Would you like me to teach you what fear really is?”

Again with the ‘daddy’ comments. How unoriginal. Obviously, Sydney doesn’t stay tuned to phenomenal promos. That’s right, because she interrupted it. Rude. “Bite. Me.” Morgana hissed. To answer her question. Yes. This was not a challenge, it was an invitation.

Sydney got closer, and tensed her arms. It looked like she was about to hit Morgana, but before anybody could get too excited, she dropped the mic, and left the ring, making her way powerfully up the ramp, not looking back, and the boos started to rain in for her.

The crowd wanted blood.

The arena was silent for a few long moments. Nobody knew what was going to happen next. There was no activity. Nobody knew what to expect. Then something strange happened; The AWE main theme played and the titantron showed the text in black and white 'Local talent'; Chris Dent which got a few cheers from the local indie fans who knew the wrestler from his work in the local indie scene. He was known for being a really good wrestler and having no other gimmick to speak of, and his treatment by the AWE reflected this. His presentation was so plain and generic, it was refreshingly different. To the main theme being his entrance music, but the very basic titantron, to the plain black ring gear, boots armpads and trunks. He wasn't a vanilla midget but his build was average for a wrestler, his hair was long and he had a goatee. If one wrestler could embody the word 'wrestler', it was this guy; Chris Dent. His utter forgetfulness made him memorable.

He walked straight to the ring and climbed the steps to climb through the ropes in a truly unremarkable fashion, after which he calmly paced, waiting for his opponent.

Then the telltale rising pitch of a better-known wrestler started, and the lights turned purple. The crown immediately started cheering and booing in equal succession, but there was no doubt about it. The crowd was ignited! The reason why would become clear as the rising pitched sound reached it's end and a sea of purple fireworks showered the stage as both the song and the titantron mirrored each other in presenting the words "I AM THE ONE AND ONLY!" and standing in the glow of the fireworks, with his fist raised, and wearing silver trunks and knee-high purple boots and gloves, was Oscar O'Sullivan.

And it was true. As he made his way to the ring, preening and posing for the booing fans up the ramp, and offering hands to children only to rip them away to the child's anguish, he really was the one and only. Face or heel, Oscar was a through-and-through superstar. He was the exact opposite of Chris Dent in every way. For eleven years, Oscar had been a joy to watch. From his midcard feuds with wrestlers long since retired, to his World Title win, to his feud with Drayden which will forever go down in the annals of AWE history. He'd spend a lit of time recently in the lower midcard, with a brief push straight after his injury, but his skill at not just wrestling, but character work was a double edged sword. He was a useful tool to elevate other stars. He could make anyone feel important, and thus that's what his task had become. But no matter what position on the card he was in, the crowd loved him.

When Oscar reached the ring, and he and Chris faced off; the two most different styles of character one could hope to see in the same ring, the bell wrong, and they immediately started to grapple, and to the surprise and shock of the audience, Chris pushed Oscar to the floor.

It was at that moment that Chris suddenly started getting cheered properly for the first time in the night. They grappled again, and this time circled each other, but the moment Chris shielded Oscar from the ref's line of sight, Oscar delivered a swift knee below the belt and then caught Chris in a headlock, which was held for long enough, Oscar gauged, for the loud boos Oscar was getting for such a despicable act to die down. Oscar then called "Now" to Chris, too quiet and subtle for the cameras to pick up, and Chris slipped out of the headlock and twisted Oscar's arm painfully around, which, once the cheers had started to die down, was reversed into Oscar's own armlock, and then Oscar kicked the man's legs from under him and started to choke him before the ref pulled him away. The crowd were being taken on a rollercoaster, but Oscar didn't want to wear them out, just keep them hot for the rest of the night, and he eased off and started to pace Chris like a hungry lion while the younger indie guy recovered. Oscar then ran at Chris, but he leapfrogged over the heel and started to turn round, but was caught by a Pele kick to the face, followed by a Second Rope Moonsault, but Oscar didn't cover. Instead he gestured to Chris' prone body as if you say 'Do you guys believe I'm fighting this pathetic nobody'.

While Chris was still writhing, Oscar climbed to the top rope, and raised his fist, which used to be a sign that he was about to his the Six-Axis, a fan favourite move, but fans knew better. Heel Oscar would gesture for the move and hit a knee drop instead, and fans knew not to get their hopes up anymore. Sure enough, he leapt knee first, but Chris put his own knees up and Oscar landed painfully onto them.

As Chris stood up, now Oscar was writhing. This time, Chris went to the top rope and delivered a Swanton Bomb to Oscar. The crowd roared excitement, and the commentary team lost their shit screaming assorted phrases like 'No! No!' and 'It's gonna happen!' and 'What an upset! If Oscar is beaten in round one by local talent!'

Chris made the cover. 1....2...kick out. Oscar kicked out incredibly close. The crowd went wild. This was amazing T.V.! Oscar and Chris both slowly got to their feet and stared at each other, and as they did Oscar realised that it was time to wrap up this quick match lest the audience get burned out, and Gethin's match was next. Oscar wanted them hot for that one! He charged Chris who made a move to grab Oscar but he dropped to his knees and slid under Chris' reach, getting back to his feet without breaking stride, rebounding off the ropes and delivering a flying knee to Chris' face, flooring the local talent. He then dragged the younger wrestler up painfully by his hair.

Chris' cries being picked up loud and clear by the mics so that they didn't get drowned out by the cascade of boos. He then set Chris up for a Crucifix Cutter, hit the move, made the cover, 1, 2, 3. Oscar had beaten the local talent and moved on to round 2 of the tournament. The smarks were cheering as hard as they could, and the casual or local fans were booing. The crowd hadn't had a second of silence throughout the short match. As Oscar made his way to the back, followed shortly after by Chris, that was when the crowd finally started to die down. Oscar had made Chris look good, which in turn made Oscar look good as he'd just beaten a good wrestler as opposed to just some jobber. Chris' career will also get better after this. Literally nobody lost. Oscar O'Sullivan really was the One and Only.

Oscar O’Sullivan’s match had come to a close. It was short but the audience let their inner animals come out, having gone completely wild from the hype, consumed by the pure elation, ecstasy, and entertainment that is the AWE. Joy Ryder stood beside one of the more… vicious animals in the building. Not necessarily a monster because there was strategy and tactics behind the brutality. A monster got lost in their blood rage and most, if not all, didn’t understand what they were doing that made others shake and quake with the very sight of them. There was purpose in this wrestler, always purpose, which honestly made this man far more intimidating than his colleagues because he knew what he was doing. From the root of his impulses to the expressions on his face, he knew what he was doing.

Gethin Rhys.

Although he was beyond charming, with a smile that could make anyone that was sexually attracted to him swoon, she knew better. Joy knew what he was capable of doing and how merciless he could and would be out on the ring. Some say a brutal artist, which he preferred, she related him more to a compulsive predator, constantly calculating his next move, while keeping that blinding smile on. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time.” Pausing for a brief moment, she gazed up at the handsome man with her cute dimpled smile, but there was a slight edge in her expression, as if she were personally uncomfortable because she, along with the audience, feared this man. Was it fear, though? Or did she simply not trust the heel that stood before her? “Gethin Rhys!”

And with his introduction done, she could get straight into the promo. “Gethin, so what are your thoughts with how the AWE World title tournament came to be?" She paused for a second and then added, “With Drayden’s injury and all.”

Gethin looked down at the small yet striking young woman and consciously decided to only lower his charming grin slightly instead of getting rid of it completely. “First, allow me to congratulate you Miss Ryder, you are looking as beautiful as always.” The human torture device brushed a gentle finger across Joy’s marble skin before speaking again. He had not asked her permission to do that but he knew Joy or at least he hoped he did. She loved getting lost in the moment and making his character seem even more horrible was something she would jump at the chance to exploit. For his benefit, of course. As a result, Joy visibly cringed but kept the act up. He touched her. Gritting her teeth behind her closed smile, she nodded to him as her ‘thank you’, but knew he had more to say.

“Secondly, well, I consider Drayden’s injury to be very unfortunate, I mean, after all I wanted to be the one to take him out myself. Not to worry though, when he comes back… I hope he enjoys the adulation from the sycophants, virgins and morons we call our fans. It won’t last. You see, Drayden will get his rematch for the championship and sadly for him, it’ll be against me. And when his blood has dyed that grey canvas red and the little kids tears in the crowd have stained the arena floor… that will be my masterpiece. That’ll be the end for him. This tournament doesn’t mean a thing. I debuted in a tourney remember? The Wally Norton Battle Classic. I won that, no problem. This thing will be the same. Bet on it.”

The handsome Welshman took the glasses from his face and placed them somewhere off camera. “Next question, darling.” Gethin cracked his famous fists and knuckles, his hands worn from the hard hitting style that had become his signature over his ten years pro. For a moment his mind wandered to his days as a young lion in Japan before the icy gaze of one Joy Ryder brought him back to the present.

Aha, darling. “As justified as your confidence is, be careful... Icarus too was confidant, until he flew too close to the sun. You don’t think there’s other competition out there for you? I’m sure Drayden may very well get his rematch, but who’s to say it’ll be against you? Well, besides you.” Joy felt like she was treading dangerous waters, showing her lack of faith in Gethin Rhys, doubting his abilities to take the title home. Biting her bottom lip, she brought the mic to his mouth and waited for his response.

Gethin’s eyes furrowed slightly. How dare she say something like that. He clenched his teeth and inhaled deeply, cracking his neck slowly and loudly for the microphone to pick it up clearly. He was holding back, that itch, that fever that tore apart his soul. The Edward Hyde inside his Henry Jekyll was clawing to the surface, clambering for air in the abyss. Gethin raised his left hand, the striker placed it softly on its side onto Joy’s shoulder, “You feel that? That’s control. Don’t dare speak out of turn again.”

Removing his hand and dropping it back into his other waiting palm, he continued on, “I never said there wasn’t any competition, my dear. Competition is what keeps me going. It’s what makes me, me. That said, there may be competition but none can beat me. Bring me Owen Sparks. Bring me Savaka. Thunderbird. Hell, bring me your brother in Japan. It doesn’t matter who I fight, they’ll lose and I’ll tell you why. I have the one thing every wrestler fears; the ultimate hold. My Owari Death Clutch cannot be broke, that is a fact Joy and I dare anybody to come and try. Test me and you will fail boys, you will fail.”

Maybe her brother will come at some point! Joy didn’t know. He didn’t keep her in the loop with his wrestling career. All she knew was what she found on the internet or the occasional skype calls of him talking about everything BUT wrestling, like the newest ramen flavor he tried, having a snapchat series called: Ramen Review. Blake Ryder was a man who liked to surprise, especially when it came to him coming home.

Gethin Rhys’ ego was bigger than his head and she prayed to god one day her brother would make this sick fighter kiss the very ring he considered his life. His home. Internally, Joy’s stomach curled with how Gethin thought he was warranted to continuously touch her, as if she was a mere object to make him look good. She knew this was all acting, but still, she was a woman who thrived off of the moments and by hell, this moment was irritating the shit out of her. “I think they’ve heard enough.” Joy’s stare turned cold, deciding Gethin didn’t need to say anymore. It was her job to help him, but overstep your boundaries and she’ll fucking walk away. Beatrice can bitch at her later. “We’ll see what you have in store for us! Oh, and--” Before exiting the frame, she glanced back at him and grimaced, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

The interviewer was the first to leave and Chance Ryder, the videographer, kept the camera on Gethin Rhys for a little bit longer, after making sure the sound guy aimed the boom to the wrestler, to pick up any last words.

Turning to face the camera directly, a sick grin crossed the strong style killers face and a dirty, sadistic chuckle cleared his throat. “A word of warning; gentlemen of AWE, I am the most dangerous professional wrestler on the planet. This we all know. Professional violence is what I do for a living. Step into the ring with me and you have two choices. Knock out or I choke you out. Whatever your preference. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go kill some idiot and then I’m going to go find myself a nice girl...or boy you know me, I’m not prejudiced. Good day.” Gethin reached down and pulled his gumshield into frame and placed it into his still grinning mouth before walking out of shot.

After the tantalizing interview of Gethin Rhys by Joy Ryder, the crowd was ready for some action involving "The Welsh Dragon" but before that match was to happen the eerie music of The Creation started playing through the arena. The crowd booed because they wanted to see one of the best heels in the business, but instead they'd have to see another big guy squash some local competitor. As the big guy was making his usual approach, someone with an unmistakable mask on his face trotted out behind the beast making similar motions with the major difference of the masked man carrying a bat. As the crowd started cheering Initiate lightly tapped the creation on the shoulder. Once the broodish man turned around Mathys raised the bat and 'swung' right at the mans head sending him to the floor. Under the mask Mathys was smiling nearly as big as his mask was. He pretended to inspect the guy as if making sure he was out when in reality he was just making sure he didn't hit him to hard. Once satisfied with the crowds reaction, Mathys lifted Creations arm and placed the bat under there and patted the man on the head. He stood up and instantly looked towards the ring where the LC was and cocked his head as if confused. The crowd started chanting

LET'S GET WEIRD!
LET'S GET WEIRD!

At the end of the second 'weird' Mathys bolted towards the ring and slide right in. He hopped to his feet then pointed from the ref, to Magic Hawkins, to himself, then finally to the timekeepers area. He did this two more times until someone came to the ring and must have told the ref that this was know the match. While the ref spoke to the message man and the timekeeper Initiate waltzed over to Magic and stood in front of the man before starting to poke the man on the chest. Magic quickly smacked Initiate's hands away and Mathys stayed frozen until he heard the ref telling the two to get in their corners. Mathys slowly went to his position but as soon as the bell rang he rushed right at Magic and delivered running dropkick. Mathys quickly did a kip-up from his position and noticed Creation being helped to taken out back. Initiate walked to the ropes and hopped on the bottom one staring at his victim while bouncing up and down on the rope.

Magic took this moment to run up and flip Initiate over the ropes causing him to land on the outside of the ring. Magic then set up in a way he could run towards the opposite ropes for a boost to do a suicide dive. Initiate slowly got up looking around wildly as if confused on how he ended up outside the ring. He stood up and began turning towards the ring just as Magic was about to launch through the ropes. Quickly Initiate leaned to the side of Magic's aim grabbing Magics shoulder and body swiftly spinning to smash him down in a Snap Scoop Powerslam. Most of the crowd exploded at the unexpected move. Initiate lifted up his opponent and rolled him into the ring. He slid in right after him and picked magic up setting him up for a Final Cut. Magic shoved Initiate off hitting him with a quick elbow and then bounced off the ropes running towards Initiate. Initiate quickly lifted Magic high in the air stumbling backwards then dropping him on to the ropes in a Stun Gun. Initiate rolled on top of his downed opponent for the one, two, three.

Initiate stood up and rapidly clapped. He walked towards the ref and gave him a massive bear hug. He then proceeded to lift Magic and pushed him out the ring. He followed him out and then helped him up the ramp when before leaving he quickly gave him a noogie. He then dropped the man right there and left as if nothing even happened.

The Staples Centre descended into darkness as the lights went black. This could be a prelude to the entrance of many of the AWE’s finest in ring performers. Yet when the unmistakable retro synth beat began to bleed into the arena through the speakers, it meant only one thing; Gethin Rhys was coming. Purple flames began to rise across the titantron before the Welsh Dragon’s name appeared in cursive. The dull blue spotlight effortlessly blended with the 80’s neon to reveal the chiselled human torture device standing atop the stage. There was no flash Rhys; his ring gear was simple enough; black trunks, kickpads, boots and gumshield. The only design being the Welsh flag on the front of his trunks. As the tempo increased, the pinks turned into blood reds and the lingering cheers transformed into a thundering storm of boos and jeers. None of this would matter as Gethin began his deliberately slow and sinister walk to the thing he called home; the squared circle. His eyes were filled with pain and their gaze had not left the cowering young man who stood in the far corner of the ring.

Gethin Rhys was the most dangerous man in AWE; everyone knew it. Other wrestlers were more technically sound true; others were more charismatic but none could turn up the intensity like Gethin, none could make you more scared for a performer than him. He was often named the most violent wrestler on the planet and for good reason. He had been seduced by the glow of violence from an early age. It had enthralled him, it had warped him into what he was today. Some called him a monster. Gethin Rhys was not a monster, he was an artist; a brutal artist and the ring was his canvass. Tonight would be the start of his masterpiece.

He entered the ring as the lights came back up to normal; his eyes had not once left his opponent. Chad 2 Badd was his name or something like that. It didn’t really matter because Gethin was going to eat him alive. As usual, the ref had already placed his hands on Gethin’s chest to stop him from tearing the poor little sods heart out before the bell even rung. A sick smile crossed the Welshman’s face as the referee called for the bell to start the contest.

Chad of course went for the collar and elbow tie up. That wasn’t going to work for the man from Cardiff. In an instant, Gethin had already planted Mr 2 Badd into the ground with an arched yakuza kick straight from the corner to the young lads face. Within a millisecond, he was on top of his opponent, raining down hard open handed strikes to his head and neck. Of course not a single one of these actually connected, Gethin was a professional after all and protecting your partner was part of the craft. He threw a final strike before whispering into Chad’s ear "Corner spot.” Getting to his feet, Gethin shoved his fingers into Chad’s open mouth and grabbed his upper jaw, with a hard yank he began to drag the terrified youngster to the corner before pulling him to his feet. Pulling his hand free, the brutal artist slapped Chad 2 Badd again before leaping and driving a stiff knee into his opponents chin.

YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!

The crowds disdain was like ecstasy for Gethin as a wry smile crept upon his lips. As he approached Chad again, the plucky youngster pressed both his hands forward into Gethin’s gut with a double palm strike. Seeing an opportunity, Chad went after his winded foe with a few more hard strikes. The Welsh Dragon burst into a fit of laughter as he motioned for Chad to continue hitting him. With every blow, Rhys began to laugh more and more before finally he switched gears. One, two slap to the face, right leg kick and a spinning left heel kick to the gut and Chad was hunched over. Gethin hooked the legs from beneath his opponent, sending him to a seated position and setting him up for vintage Rhys. The Dragon ran the ropes and sure enough he struck with a devastatingly stiff penalty kick to the chest of 2 Badd. Gethin’s strikes were best in the game, no one could deny that fact. The crowds massive cheers with every successful strike was testament to the fact.

Raising a single finger to his lips, Gethin began to shush the crowd and they did what they were told. They knew what was coming. Grabbing Chad 2 Badd’s left hand, the ruthless ring general pulled him to his feet before tearing the fingers apart with his signature finger snap move. The crack of the bone echoed throughout the arena followed by sudden thump of foreheads as Gethin cracked Chad with a headbutt.

YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK! YOU SICK FUCK!

The crowd began again and they were right. All of this was just overkill. Gethin could have finished this with one move but that’s not how the surgeon of this theatre operated. Blood began to seep lightly from beneath Rhys hairline and he grinned again. Chad 2 Badd was out but it wasn’t over. There was one last thing to do. As the blood trickled down his head, Gethin closed let out a sigh of release. He took a knee and wrapped his arm around his opponents neck in a dragon sleeper before modifying it by interlocking his far hand behind his back with the other. This version of the dragon sleeper was known as the Owari Death Clutch and Gethin had said he was going to bring it to the AWE. Chad 2 Badd did not even tap out from the End Waltz, his body was limp and as the bell rang Gethin took a second before releasing him.

"Thanks brother.” Gethin whispered before getting to his feet and listening to the announcers confirm his advancement in the AWE tournament and the crowd jeer him with a small patter embracing his brutality.

PRO VIOLENCE! PRO VIOLENCE! PRO VIOLENCE!

Following the brutal Gethin squash, the crowd were clamoring for another match; for more violence, but suddenly the lights went out, as did the titantron. The entire arena was in complete, sudden, unexplained darkness. As far as the crown knew, it could be a powercut. After a few very tense seconds, the titantron showed a flickering lightbulb, followed by a longer spell of silence and darkness, but now the crowd were reassured that this was deliberate.

Then, the familiar music of a music box started playing, and suddenly the whole arena started to cheer. They knew what this meant. They knew what was back. Another image started to show on the titantron, and they quickly quietened down and started to pay attention.

The video on screen was CCTV footage of a bandaged man in a hospital. It cut away to a shaky cam showing the 'Burns Ward' sign. It went dark again, but still, the unsettling music played. The titantron flared back to life, this time showing still pictures of nurses unravelling the man's bandages. In each of the pictures, the nurses faces were harshly scored out with a pencil. The last picture passes by very quickly but still slow enough to everyone to have registered it. It was the bandaged man grabbing a nurse's throat. In this one her face hadn't been scored out, and was a contorted, sickening scream of shock and pain.

The series of pictures then moved onto another CCTV video. This time it was a fisheye camera recording a padded cell. A figure in a straightjacket was sitting down, facing away from the camera. This footage must have played with no changed for a solid thirty seconds, before a roll of static went down the screen, and suddenly the figure was right in front of the camera, staring up at it. Many of the audience jumped. There were a few more cheers now, as the face that could now be seen was definitely Hector. The cheers were definitely lost in the overpowering silence of the majority of the crowd.

Suddenly, a grainy, black and white cartoon started to play. It was just cutesy 1930's style animals walking around a village and talking, but with the music, and in context of what they saw before, it was really creepy. Slowly, it would dawn on the crowd that the buildings in the background were melting. Then the sun and clouds started melting. Then, as the characters themselves started to melt, still with smiles on their faces, the music started playing backwards.

The cartoon burned away in a fire, the vivid color and realism of the flames bringing the crowd back from the cartoon. Now, on the Titantron, in his old gear and mask, was Hector, though his green and white ring gear was charred as if burned, and his mask, before a creepy, blank smiling mascot head, was now slightly melted into something even creepier than before. He appeared to be standing besides a chain-link fence, and it was night-time. He leaned into the camera, and spoke, in a menacingly jovial tone; "I can't wait to play more games with you all!"

The Titantron went off. The lights came back on, and there were some cheers of excitement, but it wasn't deafening. Many of the crowd was still shocked to silence. Everybody, however, was of the same opinion; What they had just watched was amazing.

Sexton's music hit and he stepped through the curtain to a mixed reaction. This week's show was in Los Angeles, and Sexton himself was a California native. He had anticipated a bit of a hometown pop, and so he had come prepared to deal with it.

"The following contest is a first round match-up in the AWE World Title tournament! Introducing, from Venice Beach, Cal--"

"Gimme the fuckin' mic!"

As he ripped the microphone from the female ring announcer's hands, Sexton hoped that his F-bomb didn't come through on television. He suspected that it did. Oh well. At least it was after 10 PM.

"Listen here daddeh, because I got a little somethin' for ya. This is truly a new era for American Wrestling Entertainment. A new era, with a new champion. And you know Sexton P.S. Love wants a piece of that action darlin'. This company needs me as the World's Heavyweight Champion, and you know I need that belt just as bad. Sexton Love's got to have that world's title belt daddeh. He's got to have it. It's got gold on it. It's got platinum on it. It's got lead, iron, copper, and zinc! It's got uranium, and TITANIUM. It's got cobalt, asphalt, your fault, my fault, SAN ANDREAS FAULT! You heard that right daddeh."

Sexton lowered the mic for a moment, allowing the crowd to cheer. The line really made no sense, but it was all about delivery, just ask Superstar Billy Graham. After allowing the crowd to amp themselves up, Sexton began to speak again. It was time to bring them crashing down.

“Sexton Love is being oddly… polite here tonight, you don’t hear that very often from him.”

"I've been all around the world, and I've been a champion everywhere I went. I was a heavyweight champion in Canada, Japan, Iran, and Pakistan, a champion all over the world daddeh. But you know that I was born and raised in southern California."

Another huge pop.

"And I have never, ever, learned more about what it meant to be champion than last week in CHICAGO, ILLINOIS!"

And there it was.

“Nevermind.”

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.”

The crowd turned on a dime, relentlessly booing the brash and arrogant villain. Was it cheap heat? Yes. But he was just getting started. Sexton tore off his t-shirt to reveal a Chicago Cubs jersey underneath, the team that beat the L.A. Dodgers in last year's National League Championship Series. Heat didn't come much cheaper than that.

"I'm DOWN for the Chi-Town darlin', because Sexton Love is a champion, and Chicago is the city of champions! Just ask the Los Angeles Dodgers! L.A. is a city of losers, and daddeh that just doesn't work for me..."

Sexton continued ranting, but his voice was being drowned out by boos. Suddenly, the sounds of A Tribe Called Red blasted through the arena as the crowd exploded. Thunderbird rushed down to the ring, instantly bringing the fight to Sexton and sending the fans into a frenzy. The proverbial shit was on.

Thunderbird took him from pillar to post, whipping Sexton across the ring and relentlessly beating him down in the corner with a flurry of punches. The Bird grabbed Sexton's jersey and pulled it off his back, holding it up high for the entire arena to see. He tore the jersey in half and threw it down as the crowd cheered.

“Thunderbird is doing what’s right and the fans are definitely in favor of it. Who can blame them? Sexton Love may as well have betrayed his hometown territory and committed high treason.”

Thunderbird turned around and was instantly met with a clothesline as Sexton exploded out of the corner. The cheers turned quickly to boos as the Lovely One began mouthing off to the fans. Looking for some payback, Sexton grabbed the Native American headdress that Thunderbird wore to the ring as part of his entrance and tore it up. He threw the shredded mess of feathers onto his opponent as he put to the boots to him, drawing even more heat.

“Yeah, and look what he got for it? Paid back in the fullest by Sexton Love, you never take your eyes off of a wiley opponent like the Sexecellence of Sexecution.”

Enraged at Sexton's display of disrespect, Thunderbird began to fire up, mounting a comeback with a series of shots to the midsection. With Sexton reeling, Thunderbird came off the ropes with a full head of steam but was cut off with a boot to the face. Sexton pointed to his brain as if to say he was "outsmarting" his opponent. Classic heel move. Sexton went for a cover, but Thunderbird kicked out at two. As soon as Thunderbird lifted a shoulder off the mat, Sexton transitioned from a pinning position to a reverse headlock, wearing his opponent down.

“And now he just keeps the pedal to the metal and closes this one out. Another feather in the cap, so to speak.”

“Is that a reference to the headdress being torn up?”

“...Maybe.”

Sexton tightened his grip, looking around at some of the fans in the front row. A younger fan was wearing a Thunderbird t-shirt and a Dodgers cap. Target acquired.

"Clayton Kershaw sucks!" screamed Sexton, trying to get a rise out of the fan.

"Let's go Thunderbird! Get him!"

"Shut up, kid! I'll be your new stepdaddeh!"

The kid's mother was sitting right next to him.

"What the hell did you just say?!? Kick his ass, Thunderbird!" yelled the rather large woman.

"Fat broads need Love too!"

This was the best part of the job.

“Now that’s just plain uncalled for. These fans came here to see a show, not get picked on by the wrestlers!”

The crowd began to clap, willing Thunderbird to break the hold. The Bird reached out with one of his arms, as if drawing on the energy of the 15 000 plus in attendance. He slowly rose to his feet, but Sexton refused to relinquish the hold. Thunderbird hit a few elbow shots to the midsection, losing his grip, and then powered him up with a back suplex! This time it was Thunderbird with the nearfall.

“Look at Thunderbird feeding off of the energy of the crowd! It’s beautiful.”

“I still don’t think he has it in him.”

Both men slowly got up, with Thunderbird having a slight advantage. He hit Sexton with a kick and set him up for a double underhook powerbomb. BAM! Sexton was slammed down in the middle of the ring. The Warpath River Plunge. One of Thunderbird's favorite moves. 1...2...Sexton barely kicked out.

“You were saying?”

“Two count isn’t a victory, Wade!”

Still in control Thunderbird grabbed Sexton with a front facelock, lifting him into a suplex position. He held Sexton up in a stalling vertical suplex, a pretty impressive feat of strength, and prepared to flip him forward into a uranage slam. He called it the Totem Pole Suplex. At the last second, Sexton countered, hooking Thunderbird with a DDT and planting him down on his head!

The Impale-Her DDT! Thunderbird was rocked by the signature move, clutching his neck in pain. But the exhausted and battered Sexton was unable to capitalize right away. Finally, he crawled onto the cover. 1...2..Thunderbird kicked out! Frustrated, Sexton got up to his feet. He slapped Thunderbird across the head, yelling at him to stay down.

"You see this? This is the real Thunderbird, right here!" Sexton pointed down at his crotch, then slapped his opponent again.

“Sexton nearly had him there! And look at him taking the time with his opponent, taunting him.”

“Need I remind you that a two count isn’t a victory, Kane?”

Hooking Thunderbird's legs, Sexton bridged backwards into the Love Lock, essentially his own version of the legendary Muta Lock. He wrenched back on Thunderbird's injured head and neck, thrusting his bridging pelvis upwards repeatedly. Still feeling the effects of the DDT and earlier headlock, Thunderbird desperately crawled for the ropes to break the devastating hold. By now the crowd was fully in The Bird's corner, cheering him on to keep fighting. Thunderbird outstretched his hand, looking like he may tap out, but managed to pull himself just a little further and grab the bottom rope. The referee ordered Sexton to break the hold, but Sexton kept it applied for a few extra seconds. More heat.

Looking to finish things off, Sexton lifting up Thunderbird by his injured neck, and called for the piledriver. As he set his opponent up, Sexton's gaze found the same enthusiastic young fan in the front row.

"I'm gonna break his damn neck!"

“Here comes the end, see ya Thunderbird. Come back Wednesday, maybe you can open the show.”

The hesitation cost him, as Thunderbird exploded with a back body drop, countering the piledriver! 15 000 strong collectively lost their shit as the babyface fired up for his comeback. Thunderbird began a Tatanka-like war dance, strutting around the ring and ramping up the crowd.

“You never take your eyes off of your opponent, that was a rookie move from Sexton, taunting the crowd like that.”

Sexton fed in for a series of knockdowns and bodyslams as the Native American warrior built momentum. Sexton fell down to his knees, begging and pleading for mercy. The babyface balled up his hand into a fist but Sexton grabbed the ref by his shirt and pulled him in between them like a human shield. Thunderbird shoved the ref aside and grabbed Sexton, but Sexton quickly hit him with a lowblow! Having been thrown out of the way by Thunderbird himself, the ref wasn't in a position to see it.

“Not again! We just saw a tourney match end like that last week!”

“Shut up, Wade! You do what you need to do to win the damn tournament and take the AWE World Title home! Where I come from, cheater is just a fancy word for winner.”

“Remind me to never go where you’re from.”

“We don’t want you anyway.”

Boos began raining down, as the crowd sensed where the match was headed. With a smirk on his face, Sexton lifted Thunderbird up for his finishing move, the Sexecutor. He elevated Thunderbird into a torture rack position, relishing the moment. One last time, he looked at the fan at ringside.

"It's all over daddeh!"

Suddenly, Thunderbird trapped both of Sexton's arms form the torture rack position and rolled backwards! He countered the Sexecutor into a crucifix pin! Caught in the rollup, Sexton kicked his legs in panic, trying to break free of the pinning predicament! 1...2...3! Thunderbird had won the match!

“Again looking away from the business at hand! Too caught up in making sure the fans know he hates them, Sexton Love just got eliminated the AWE World Title tournament!”

“Even I have to hand it to Thunderbird, he took his shots when he could, and now he moves forward.”

Thunderbird rolled out, leaving an utterly shocked and stunned Sexton Love in the ring. The triumphant babyface walked up the ramp, his arm raised in victory as the female announcer confirmed the result.

"Ladies and gentlemen your winner, THUUUUUUUUNDERBIRD!"

Another day, another show. Sometimes the grind got to him, but generally speaking… Wade Palmer loved his job. Every second of it, from beginning to end of each day was an adventure, and that he truly enjoyed. Aftershock was a personal baby of his, a pet project that he’d suggested to Roddy a few years back. Now it had a huge following, and he and Joy Ryder ran it together… and it was fun.

At its core, that’s what wrestling was supposed to be: fun. A lot of people took it too seriously, a lot of fans made it out to be something that it’s not and would attack wrestlers for even the slightest fault in the ring, on the microphone… Wade Palmer felt bad for Owen Sparks and Kidd Neon. When he checked the internet tomorrow, he was certain the internet wrestling community (the IWC, or as Roddy called them, ‘the dirty internet smarks’) would be calling for the public beheading of the two young’uns.

Wade sat down behind the desk of the Aftershock set and smiled at Joy, who was already waiting for him. Wade tossed a large bag of gummi worms onto the desk and chewed on one as the camera started rolling. Hurriedly swallowing it, Wade spoke to the camera. “Welcome to AWE Aftershock, where we talk about the show that just transpired, and bring a guest or two to come on screen and chat with us. Tonight… we nearly had a show end the same way last week’s did, in a questionable way, but. Everything went just fine as far as I can tell. We’ll address the question being asked by all the fans out there, trending #1 on Twitter all night… Where’s Caiden?”

One hand was rested on her notepad, the other hand was rolling her pen on the glass surface. Back and forth. Back and forth. When she found her opening to add to Wade’s dialogue, she stopped what she was doing and gave him her genuinely sweet smile, with just the right amount of her natural personality and just the right amount of her professional front, “Isn’t it obvious, Wade?” Joy raised her eyebrow, her expression displaying the fact that she couldn’t even fathom the possibility of this NOT being true. “He has bad blood with Roddy Quinn, so of course he’s going to use times like these, where he doesn’t even get a match on tonight’s show, to keep to his word and: Quote. Take this show over. One step at a time. Unquote.’” She brought her attention to the camera and confidently added, “And we all know he keeps to his word.”

“It might not be that obvious. Maybe, and I’m just spitballing here… but maybe he wasn’t here this week because he didn’t want to show his face after his despicable actions last week. OR, and I might be wrong here because it probably would have been announced… maybe he got suspended for being an asshole, Joy.” Wade accented his statement by viciously tearing a piece of his gummi worm off. “You don’t just attack referees and go on like nothing happened.”

Oh this shit again. Joy gritted her teeth in annoyance. “We both know, Mr. Palmer.” Her words were enunciated and her blue eyes glinted with serious passion, “Caiden Winters isn’t a coward. If he were, he wouldn’t have ‘attacked’ the referee after he DID warn him. The ref made a bad call. And you don’t cross, Caiden." Internally, Joy was getting hella’ grumpy, but she had to keep this professional. Straightening her body, she put her pleasant smile back on, while her eyes locked with the camera lens, “Did you hear that folks? Caiden might have been suspended. Do you believe it? Because I don’t. That would be another bad call, don’t you think? Why don’t you tell us what you think happened to Caiden Winters on Twitter and remember to @AWE and put the hashtag AWEAftershock.”

“I think Caiden Winters is plotting and deciding how he’s going to take out his rage on Roddy Quinn. But that’s not all I think; you want to know what I think? I’ll tell you. I think it’s a mistake. I think Caiden Winters needs to keep his head down after that little bout of rage, and wait until Roddy calls him and then he should ask for another chance, or he’s going to be screwed for the rest of his tenure here.” Did Wade the person believe this? Of course not, but he knew what to say to get Joy going, and he wanted this show to be hers more than his.

“What wrestler who kept his or her head down ever became a star? A LEGEND? None. Caiden Winters is a force to be reckoned with. He never stops doing his best just because his boss doesn’t give him credit. You know who does see his potential? The fans. And without our fans, where would we be? Caiden Winters deserves to be on the AWE and to get the respect he deserves, he has to make bold moves.”

“I guess we’ll just see how it goes, huh? Anyway, let’s move on.” Wade glanced down at his notes briefly, reading over them. “Did you catch what the Initiate did today? He just… took another man’s place in the tournament. I guess that’s the kind of thing he tries to push, huh? Well, Joy we’re one step closer to what you seem to want: total anarchy. Or maybe you’re less okay with people breaking the rules when you don’t have a crush on them.” Another gummi worm.

Did he? He did, didn’t he? She did NOT have a crush on Caiden. Without batting an eye or even blushing, Joy twirled her pen in her hand and smirked at Wade, “Let’s not go there.” As much as she wanted to make a low blow and use his relationship with her sister against him, she decided to keep things on track. Joy Ryder was a professional. “Like I said. To get noticed, sometimes you have to make bold moves. If they were so against the ‘total anarchy’ they would have nipped this match in the bud. Did they? No. Why? Because the fans liked what they saw. Who has more control now?” The company, the wrestlers, or the fans. If Joy gave into her emotions, she would have darted her pen at Wade’s face and stole his gummy worms… but, the show must go on. All personal feelings aside.

“It’s the fans. It’s always the fans who have the control. Maybe what you’re saying has some merit, maybe getting noticed IS that important, but I cannot and I will not sit by and watch as the wrestlers who are paid to fucking—” Wade was getting a little impassioned himself. Dude was a mark, hated heels. “—wrestle the other wrestlers attack referees, blindside their peers before they can start their match… even the low blows I saw tonight and last week… that kind of stuff would have legends in this business who worked until their bodies gave out and they couldn’t crawl to that ring to put on a show for these fans… the way some of the AWE roster acts would have those legends rolling in their damn graves. Did you see the despicable way that Sexton Love acted tonight? It’s disrespectful, and it’s damn near disgusting.” Keep things rolling, Joy.

“Oh you mean the low blow that cost Caiden his match? If I’m not mistaken, Caiden Winters fought right. It was after the fact that he decided to show us how he really feels.” Okay, she needed to keep this rolling, but she was still riled up from the heavy, negative focus on her favorite wrestler. For a second, she gave her peer dull eyes, before tapping her pen on her notepad and continuing, “And yes, I saw. And our fans reacted accordingly. You may be right with how there should be a limit to the way our wrestlers act, but I will stand by my opinion that there are exceptions. And the people who help make our grey lines more clear are tuning in tonight.”

“I agree with you. I don’t think the fans show up to get tormented like that, but what do I know… But you know what really spoke to the fans tonight? None other than Morgana — and if you talk to Kane later, despite what he may say… he was marking out and totally thought it was her father. Of course, all good things must come to an end, and she was interrupted.”

Joy’s expression brightened. She too had marked out, thinking her uncle figure was going to make an appearance. Her dad’s best friend showing up out of the blue? Insane. At last, it was all a ruse. A good one at that! On top of the excitement she had because of that, she also simply liked the Women’s Division and the drama that surrounded it. It was like some Real Housewives pettiness and she LOVED it. “Interrupted by someone we have never gotten many opportunities to hear as much as the other Divas before. And the thing that got me was, I could feel the tension... and I wasn’t even physically on the ring.”

“Luckily for us, and the fans, we’re going to get to hear some more from her tonight — without further adieu, please welcome our guest for the evening: Sydney Ellis.” Truth be told, Wade didn’t pay enough attention backstage to know for sure if all the drama was real or fake, but he did his best to keep Trinity mostly out of it… Not much longer, though.

Sydney Ellis marched into the shot and took her seat. She was wearing the same ensemble she has worn when she interrupted Morgana. She gave a curt nod to them both. "Joy. Wade,” she hammered, not looking in a great mood, but at least not openly hostile. "Yeah, I tend to let my actions speak for me, but tonight, I couldn’t let it go. There were things that needed to be said. And after all that, Morgana still has the gall to look down on me.”

“Morgana tends to look down on… well, everyone. It’s the way she’s always been, and I doubt a few strong words are going to change that. You’ll have to do more than that.” Wade explained, leaning forward as he chomped on another gummi worm. “I’d argue that the only way you’re going to get her to look at you any differently, is to beat her ass in the ring.”

"There are no excuses,” Sydney retorted icily. "There are no reasons why I would let anybody look down on me. I haven’t lost a singles match in thirteen months now. Beating asses in the ring is my first language. Maybe the message to Morgana simply didn’t get through to her in English.. Or maybe I’ll start every sentence with ‘Barbie’. That would get her attention. All Morgana cares about is the title she lost to a plastic doll that can’t fight. And she looks down on me?! It’s almost impressive how she managed such a pathetic feat!”

“There’s a lot of fire in you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who really likes this side.” Joy complimented the wrestler, who sat on the other side of Wade. Tilting her head in curiousity, she took in the other woman’s words carefully and then inquisitively inquired, “Wouldn’t you care, though? If you lost the title from anyone really? You spend day and night, rain or shine, for this one thing and then finally. You have it and then someone comes around and takes it all away in a blink of an eye.” After taking a pause for a moment so her question could resonate with the audience and after she snapped her free hand's fingers when she said the word 'blink' to emphasize her point, Joy added, “I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel like something would be wrong if any winner didn’t react to a certain extent.”

Sydney leaned back and smiled with an air of superiority that was sure to infuriate any of the women’s locker room that were watching. Regardless of how much they liked Dawn, Sydney was a nasty piece of work. "Honestly, if there’s a single woman back there that I couldn’t destroy in a fair fight, they’d have earned it. I wouldn’t hold my breath, though. If I became champion, that belt wouldn’t go anywhere anytime soon after.”

Raising an eyebrow in intrigue, her lips curving into a smirk, Joy chuckled, “So will you? Become champion, I mean. Because what you’re saying is, you’re fully confident you can take down all your competitors, including Barbie Summers. That’s a lot of competition.”

"You’re implying that Barbie would ever agree to fight me. She won’t. She’s a coward. One day she’ll be usurped by a woman who doesn’t disgrace that belt just by holding it, and they might accept a challenge of mine. But Barbie?” Sydney shook her head. "She did not get to where she is today by fighting. She won’t fight me. She’s not a fighter. She might spout several pages of the Mean Girls script at me, or pull some strings with her husband, or use every dirty trick in the book to claim to have beaten me without fighting me.” Sydney then looked straight down the hard cam. "Barbie Summers can not and will not fight me.” she challenged.

“Those are some fightin’ words!” This was why Joy loved the Women’s Division. The amount of drama that arises from a wrestler simply calling a bitch out. It was delicious! She couldn’t wait for more. “We’ll have to wait and see if Barbie tuned in and how she’ll react. Is she really the coward Sydney Ellis says she is? Or is she simply waiting for the perfect moment to assert her authority and show us who wears the crown?”

Pause for dramatic effect.

“Unfortunately, we’re out of time.” Joy pouted at the camera, wishing she could talk all night about the AWE, and then glanced over at Sydney, “Thanks so much for coming on today. I’m sure from here on out, we’ll hear more from you, yeah?

"That entirely depends on whether or not anything needs to be said in the future.” Sydney replied curtly.

“And with that being said, we bid you farewell for tonight, AWE fans. If you’re in the area, make sure to show up at the Golden 1 Center next Wednesday for Shock N AWE, and a trail of shows leading us there. Don’t forget to follow the AWE and all your favorite superstars on Twitter! Even if you can’t be in the arena, tune in next week. It’s the only way to find out who’s going to be the next champion.”

“Bye, guys! Oh, and don’t forget to keep tabs on the #1 trending question on the AWE’s twitter account. Where’s Caiden? Until next time on Aftershock.” With her beaming smile, Joy waved at the camera. The moment her twin brother said ‘and cut’, she slouched down in her chair. Thoroughly exhausted from numerous things, like her curiosity of where Caiden actually went tonight since he was nowhere to be found backstage, Joy sighed, “Great job everyone! I need… wine.” She was ready to go to the hotel and call it a night.