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[C-Verse 97] [HGC/DaVE] Everybody Knows

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“I'm a pretty good wrestler,” Jimmy Cox begins, sprawled on a beanbag in the corner what, to judge by the posters, is the BCG dojo. His sunglasses are low, he has a bottle of Powerade in his hand, is wearing a crumpled suit and tie, and is in essence the poster child for jet lag.

 

“I'm a pretty good wrestler, but I'm gonna be honest. Back then, I wasn't so good. I'd made myself a name in Japan off the Driver, and that's cool, that's great, but I got hired in Philly because I was getting a name in Japan.

 

“And man, those guys are vicious about your ringwork until they like you. I saw Michael Cook give Sinclair a huge bump, and after that, the crowd loved him. Roy Stephens, even, he was getting over.

 

“But I wasn't. I went in to talk to Phil one day, said that up front, and said, y'know, I'm ready to do what I've got to to earn my money, here's a problem, let's brainstorm.

 

“We went round and round a little bit, and it was actually Tommy, this kid even younger than me, who says, hey, how about Lefty?

 

“Because Lefty Jensen sent an audition tape to Phil once a month. He was so out of work it went back through funny and out the other side. And that's kind of a shame; Lefty could work, but he hadn't had any real success outside the pimp gimmick he'd had back in the 70s.

 

“So Tommy phones him up and says, sat in front of me, look, I'm going to be straight with you, we're bringing you in to pop the crowd on nostalgia, then this guy Cox is going to do his finish on you, and then we'll repeat that until the crowd respect his finisher.” A smile.

 

“He said, y'know, we'll figure out what to do with you depending how the crowd react. Hangs up, looks at Phil, asks if that's going to be alright!” Cox lights up. “I couldn't believe it, but hey, this was great for me. Tailor-made feud, one I'm gonna do all the fun stuff in...” He shrugs. “Meantime, when I started wrestling Lefty, that helped. The guy saw the value in teaching, you know?”

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Charlie Homicide has left his ratty leather throne in his run-down, ruined house. The HollyWeird Heavyweight Championship belt lies on the wooden floor and Homicide squats over it, shirtless, hands together, fingers steepled, as he studies it.

 

At length he draws in a deep breath and begins to speak.

 

“A man who has faith is a man who believes a promise unfulfilled,” he says. “A man who has faith is a man of words, not a man of deeds.

 

“A man of faith hopes for a better tomorrow, but a just man, an upright man, he makes the tomorrow he wants. He challenges. He strives.

 

“Christian Faith teaches others to be like him. He has heard that the meek shall inherit the Earth. It is no crime that he believes this, but it is a sin to teach it to others, to preach to them to deny their power, deny their capacity to grow.

 

“Christian Faith became an icon, and that makes him a relic of the world before blood and gold reunited. An aspect of a failing America, and a failing world.

 

“To help you all, I will destroy him. And all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

 

 

“I've heard his rant, yes,” Christian Faith tells Shane sneer, smiling easily as he does so. “It's cute and all, but I'm less than impressed. I'm glad he's gunning for me, don't get me wrong – he's the champion – but Shane, I'm here for one reason, I told you that when I asked for a contract.

 

“I want Sid Streets. He and me, we've got unfinished business.”

 

Sneer nods. “I get that, Christian, but he's one of the tag team champions right now. I can't give you a singles match on Pay-Per-View. Not unless he loses the belt.”

 

“OK, then. Put me up against him in tag competition.”

 

“Who's your partner?”

 

“I don't know, yet. But I'll find someone.”

 

Sneer smiles. “Bring me Sam Strong and I'll sign the match here and now. Bring me someone else, and you two will have to prove yourselves. But Christian – you have a shot at the world heavyweight championship, right now, if you want it. You're the champion's choice.”

 

Faith shakes his head. “Keep that shot warm for me, Shane, but no.”

 

Sneer sighs. “Find me someone and I'll see what I can do about Sid. In the meantime...” He raises a finger. “I'm not going to consider myself responsible for anything Charlie does to try and get you to take his match.”

 

Faith furrows his brow. “You're saying that specifically.”

 

“And I'll be telling Karen, too. I'd tell Homicide but I don't want to go anywhere near him.

 

“The fact is, Christian, I want you to wrestle Sid Streets, Pay-Per-View. People will pay for that. I want you to wrestle the champion, too – people will pay for that, and I have an obligation to at least try to keep a champion happy. I'd like all my wrestlers happy, but that's not going to happen.

 

“You're a good man, Christian. I won't deny that. And I'm going to help you where I can – but I have a whole roster to juggle. And I think you can survive the champ's attentions.”

 

“Oh, yes, I can. I have faith.”

 

 

Sid and Dusty Streets sneer. “We beat the Vesseys,” Dusty says. “Bring it on, Christian. With my brother by my side, you ain't gonna look so good.”

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James Casey Newbie

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Have finally caught up with this, started about 2 weeks ago but got distracted by your RPG.net threads, PS. What can I say? AMAZING, even better than I was expecting. Cobra/Valentine is pretty clearly the greatest feud ever. :)

 

Same. Which reminds me - I know it's way too late as you were asking for suggestions months ago, but I like it too much to let it go - the perfect team name for Devine and Ant-Man: Brittle and Little.

 

Anyway, credit to Peter Valentine for being entertaining...:eek:

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For the whole month of September, Azrael was almost entirely gone from HGC television. While Cowboy Ricky Dale showed up when he was booked for matches, but seemed distracted – though with the power of the dark angel within unleashed, he was still a formidable foe, winning most of his contests.

 

Dale seemed a lot more interested in finding the missing Louise Robinson. On any show he didn't wrestle, twenty seconds to a minute of footage was dedicated to an increasingly desperate quest, cruising the streets of Dallas looking out for her, postering neighbourhoods with flyers bearing her face, and, by the end, storming through squats and slums checking everyone in there, at one point bringing down the building's landlord with a Southern Justice into and through a rickety table.

 

Dale's ally was, meanwhile, elsewhere, harassing and hounding Pablo Rodriguez during the Priest of Pain's pursuit of Electrico, challenging him at every step. With no name yet given, the announce team took to calling him Dark Angel, though how he'd fare in a match was still unknown.

 

“It's been over a month, jackass,” Dusty Streets sneers at Dale. “You ain't finding her. You called the cops, they know, move on. You're makin' Texas look bad.”

 

Dale launches himself at Streets, but is quickly restrained by backstage employees. Streets holds up his belt. “You're not a tag team, and there's a queue. I'm a champion. I don't have to fight you unless I want to.

 

“Get over it, numbnuts.”

In mid-October, Azrael returned to HGC screens, seen at night standing by the grave of Sean Martyn, looking down upon it with an unreadable expression, the ground covered in mist.

 

 

He turns away, silently, and halts, face to face with the mysterious Dark Angel.

 

“You're behind this, aren't you?”

 

Azrael smiles grimly. “When she disappeared, both the men in her life were fighting in front millions, on camera.

 

“How, then, would I do it?”

 

“I regret ever granting you your second life.”

 

That gets a laugh from the bigger man. “I'm without honour eternally, then, in your eyes. And if I'm without honour, you see no reason I should exist.

 

“But you can't end me.”

 

“I can try.” He pauses. “This place your friend discovered... the modern day warriors. They have an event soon, a culmination.

 

“Be there, and be prepared to fight.”

 

Azrael smiles. “If there are warriors, I am with them. And I am always ready to destroy.”

 

 

The match was stunningly competitive. Azrael won, signing off with the Epitaph, but only after twenty minutes of fast-paced, hard-hitting action. Slams, dropkicks, and the two of them going toe to toe while Rhodes in particular sold it as a battle between gods.

 

Arena lights seemed to fail more and more as the match went on, and by the end the audience were invisible, the ring bathed not in white light but a dull, sinister orange.

 

After the three count had been made, Ricky Dale climbed into the ring, stepping into the light. He had a microphone in hand.

 

“He thinks you took her,” Dale says. “I know you didn't. I know she's gone to ground...

 

“I know you didn't take her. But I know you can find her.

 

“Sean... you're a monster. This isn't a truce.

 

“But she's still an innocent in all this. She needs to be found.”

 

And the lights went out. By the time they came back up, only the bewildered referee was left in the ring.

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“All the shoot videos out there are about making money,” Christian Faith says. He leans back, his arms stretching along the sofa, showing off the taut IPW T-shirt that adorns his frame. “Making money off this seemed... wrong.

 

“Let me start off with some things I truly should say. Richard Eisen is an incredible judge of a certain kind of talent. There's a speech that I know he's given to me, to both Sams, to Tommy Morgan and to Steve DeColt. I know he gave it to us. I know he's given it to a few others. And I know it was never given to Khoklov. I know it was never given to Rocky Golden, I know it was never given to Nicky Champion, although in my opinion he deserves at least a trial run with the big belt over there.

 

“The speech is a pretty simple one, and it's a lot more honest than he gives people credit for. He gives it to people he expects to be the top guy for a period of time – someone who might hold the belt more than once, who'll be main eventing more often than not for two years or more, and what he does is, he tells them that, and he tells them what he expects of them.

 

“I got on well with Richard because he was willing to be completely up front with me, no matter what.

 

“But then 1997 came along, and Richard... didn't cope well. Lawsuits. Rebookings. Signing a bunch of people from the indies – which was what the competition was doing – and that kind of thing.

 

“I was watching my best friend fall into a mental breakdown, and...” He takes another deep breath, visibly bracing himself. “And I couldn't help,” he says quietly.

 

Silence fills the screen for a nearly a minute before he continues, staring bleakly into nothingness.

 

“Matters came to a head not long before I left. Richard was trying a dozen new things. Rory McCallum on top was one, and I actually said to him, basically, that HollyWeird had finally started delivering good wrestling, and Rory wasn't going to do that.

 

“And I guess that was the last straw. He took a swing at me, and I didn't see it coming. Now, he's always been as happy in the gym as anyone working for him, and he has some power to his punches, and like I say, I took one in the kidneys. I saw red, and I'm not proud of it, but I hit back.

 

“He nearly went down from the first shot, but when he came back up my reflexes were kicking in. I stopped his swing and went with a headbutt, and that's how his nose ended up broken.

 

“I left the venue. Walked around for hours to clear my head. Officially I was fired for no-showing the taping that night. I'm pretty sure it was actually for the shot.

 

“Now, here's the bit that never even made it to rumour, and believe me, I watched to see if it ever did.

 

“When I'd signed for HollyWeird, when I'd showed up for my first couple of shows, I was home one night when my wife called me to the phone. It was Richard, and we talked.

 

“I thought he'd calmed down, I really did. But by ten minutes in... he was offering to put me back on the payroll, and all I had to do was make sure HollyWeird went to sh*t.”

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“Enjoy it while you've got it, pal,” Frankie Future, flanked by the Hustlers, tells Aaron Mustafa in early September. “You won't have it long, and that's the honest truth.”

 

Mustafa, the Hardcore Championship held loosely by the straps in one giant hand, shrugs. “You and your little army here?” He gestures at the tag team behind him.

 

“The Family will cut you down to size,” Future tells him. “It's not just the future you're dealing with. It's the Hustlers.”

 

“Hustlers.” The self-proclaimed 'Baddest' shrugs again. “Yeah, I can see that. Low-rent GQ mother*****rs.”

 

Roger Cage starts forward, but Future cuts him off. “You won't have it long, pal,” he says, and dips a hand into the pocket of his expensive suit. He throws a handful of banknotes at Mustafa. “Here. Have a party on the Family. Pay your last regards to my belt.”

 

With that, the trio is gone.

 

Mustafa takes on Babylon for the Hardcore Championship, later in the month. With Karen Killer at ringside, Babylon is adopting many of the moves of his mentor Homicide, but the Baddest has power on his side, and is showing a vicious street-smart brawling style, notably ducking a baseball bat swing and delivering a kidney punch on his way past, hitting the ropes, and coming back with a bat-assisted choke neckbreaker.

 

 

The match doesn't end, though, as the Hustlers hit the ring. Mustafa trades punches with both of them, holding his own until Killer hits a low blow; Babylon, meanwhile, appears unconscious, and cannot capitalise. With Mustafa distracted, the Hustlers hit a spike piledriver and leave him lying, running Killer and Babylon off rather than allow them a time with the belt.

At Destructive Energy, when Mustafa and Future do battle, the Hustlers intrude.

 

 

Eager to even the score, the Fox Den show up in retaliation. They may already have wrestled, but they're ready, even eager, to continue. Another Hardcore Championship match ends with a whimper, not a bang.

 

“I'm going to say this much,” Shane Sneer says, “that's total BS. A Hardcore match, by our rules, doesn't end until someone's lost. So it shouldn't end with nobody in the ring. It shouldn't end with people carrying one of the fighters off.

 

“Anyone who keeps that going will have me to answer for. Shane Sneer is going to do the right thing by you, people.”

 

“Let's get this out of your system,” Mustafa says, pacing up and down in the ring. “Come the end of the month, bring your boys. Meet me in the ring. And if three of you can leave me lying... without weapons... then I'm not going to ask Sneer to lock your buddies off. I'm going to let you take me on for the title and let all of them come for me.

 

“Make no mistake, you're gonna need 'em.”

 

Throughout October, Mustafa and the Hustlers engage in one brawl after another. The Family stooges come after Mustafa in ambushes, backstage, hitting when he least expects it, on one notable occasion invading his locker room while he showers after the match – the home fans don't see much of that one, but are treated to the sight of Ernie Turner apparently gagging on a bar of soap that's been rammed into his mouth.

 

 

The Baddest, by contrast, hits the Hustlers when they're in the ring. He hits Frankie Future during Future's in-ring “bragathons,” as Mustafa has taken to calling them.

 

The Family gather in the ring at Threatening Behaviour. Future has the microphone.

 

“We're here,” he calls. “We're ready to meet you, Mustafa, you so-called badass. Come on out.”

 

Nobody emerges. Future smirks. “Come on!” he calls again. “What are you, chicken?”

 

By now, the Hustlers are openly grinning. Turner and Cage high-five.

 

 

Music begins to play, but it's not Mustafa's music, and Vixen appears. There's a mild pop from the crowd, and she turns to them, raising her hands above her head, clapping along to the music.

 

Before too long, the auditorium is clapping along with her, and she turns, pointing above the big screen...

 

 

...as American Fox emerges atop the screen.

 

 

Fire Fox steps out beside Vixen. At a nod from the heroine, he takes off toward the ring at a run, sliding under the bottom rope and coming up into an exchange of punches with Turner, driving the Hustler back into the corner.

 

Cage steps forward to help his friend, then hesitates. He looks back at American Fox...

 

...and a spotlight follows Fox as he flies down to the ring on a zipline! He collides with Cage, laying him out with a clothesline, and begins to detach his harness. Future isn't having it! He grabs American Fox and sets for the Future Shock-

 

 

A smoke bomb flares around a turnbuckle! As the crowd roar, Future turns to face it – and Night Fox hurtles out of the smoke with a missile dropkick!

 

Footage surfaces in the first week of November; Aaron Mustafa getting ready to leave his hotel, when he's jumped by the Hustlers and two other men, beaten down in the foyer, rallying outside, then thrown into the path of a speeding car.

 

 

A fan's camcorder footage, Shane Sneer explains as he airs it on the big screen.

 

Future just smirks. “You know, Shane, you can say that, but he's already missed one month's defence. He can't miss two. If he can't defend – hell, I'm the last champion. You can't keep me out of a match for the vacant title.”

 

“Maybe so. Maybe not. But I can tell you this – everyone watching already knows that every match at A Little South Of Sanity will be a tag team match. And you won't have your boys here to help you, because they're going to be taking on the Fox Den.

 

“You... well, Romeo Heartthrob's chasing Monty Walker. I'd been thinking the Baddest and the ghost who walks would make a good team against their challengers. So you've cost me a money match.”

 

 

Midway through the month, and Frankie's momentum has never been so strong. He's wrestled on every show and picked up wins each time, this time with the Hustlers against the California Kid, Mario Heroic, and the Maple Leafs.

 

After getting the pin off a Future Shock and a handful of tights, Future turns toward the hard camera and strikes a pose...

 

 

...and then familiar music begins to sound, as Aaron Mustafa, somehow recovered from his car collision, sprints down to the ring. Cage rolls out and counter-charges, but gets backdropped on the steel ramp. Turner gets a chair, but the Baddest spears him. Future sets up for a Future Shock – but he's shoved off, and Mustafa hits his signature choke neckbreaker.

 

“Well,” Rhodes declares, “I'm calling it. Shane Sneer's money match is back on!”

 

“I just wish I knew how,” Goldworthy gripes. “That man ain't human. That's all I can say. That man ain't human.”

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Giel M Newbie

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I followed this diary with interest when it started. Stopped when I had some Internet trouble early this year. But I'm all caught up now. And, luckily, it seems to be during the intermission. Will be following from here on again, because the writing's just damn fun to read.

 

As much as I like your full-show write-ups, I DO think you should do a whole diary in the style of this six-month break, or the AQR aftermath, one day. The whole "I'm going to tell you all of the big story, but by bits and pieces, and from the perspective I'm most comfortable writing from" thing seems to agree with you and your writing style.

 

Which is to say. I LOVE those last few updates. And the shoot inteviews were always the favourite part of this diary. Not that I mind any of the REST, mind you...

 

Okay, I'm rambling. I tend to do that. What I really want the message of this post to be is a big "THANK YOU!" for all the stuff you put out to read for me. Both over here and on RPGnet when that was going on. It's made me a better TEW player. It has made me a better smark, as in, I understand differing booking philosophies better seeing you putting then into practise in TEW. And it has made me a better aspiring writer. So, yeah, thanks!

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“When you got right down to it,” Oxford recalls, “we were in the right place at the right time, with the right mixture of credibility and talent.

 

“We weren't gimmicky. The Untouchables' big problem, as HollyWeird went on, was that it wasn't gimmicky. It was just an increasing number of good wrestlers who were, basically, just wrestlers. So in the middle of a show about superheroes, horror movies, fake gangsters and all that, what we actually did was keep the old-school fans watching, while the kids and the luchadores brought in new fans who wanted to see fighting and everyone else got us a lot more spotlight.

 

“And honestly, the point I want to make? A lot of HollyWeird was like that. The Next Generation bridged between old school and new school. Richie P. The Vesseys. Jason Jackson. Jimmy Power. Rip. The new kids the Untouchables had, Troy was new school, but Kovach, honestly, he was a lot closer to old school. Japan does that.” He smiles. “We called him Killer for the old school vibe. Plus it dealt with two Joels in the same stable.

 

“People remember the weird storylines. They remember the crazy gimmicks. But the matches people watch on YouTube these days have people like me and Joel in them, and I'm proud of that. It shows we needed both.

 

“We got the big push into the title picture because we'd held belts elsewhere. If I'm totally honest, we probably got picked by Azaria more than Mr C, because Azaria wouldn't let anyone forget we'd held gold in Japan.” He chuckles. “I remember at one point Sam laid into him backstage, because Jason seemed to sell gold anywhere outside the U.S. as just being naturally better than gold in America.”

 

To judge by the canvas director's chair and the camera in the background, Sid Streets is on location with his popular hunting show. He clasps both hands behind his head in a very characteristic gesture, smiling, eyes wandering somewhere to the left of the screen.

 

“I jumped ship because Rip Chord asked me to,” he begins. “It helped my brother out, too, but don't get me wrong, neither one of us would've moved company to help the other on its own. We actually talked about that when he went to HollyWeird in the first place. We had the money we needed, you know, we had our own popularity, there'd have to be some reason to reunite the brothers.

 

“The storyline coming in gave us a great reason, and then we heard Christian was coming in. Which was fantastic – we hadn't finished our feud, not even remotely, in the SWF, and the first thing I said when I knew he'd signed, I called Sam and I said 'we have to use this'.

 

“Sam was staring down the barrel of – this was the week that he got wrestling Redwood out the way, because if Dusty was in on it, was Redwood? So he wasn't in a great mood, and it ended up being that Rip heard about it and passed it on to Nemesis.

 

“And Nemesis saw a solution to his own problem, and the result was me and Dusty got tag gold for a bit, and that gave Sam a reason to chase us and build up a program, and Homicide got a reason to chase Christian and build up a program.

 

“If you can do that sort of thing, you've got it made.

 

“Of course, meantime, we had our hands full anyway. Patriot kicked the whole invasion off, and we couldn't ditch him, but the idea with him, I found out, he and Whistler were going to work the midcard a while and that was it, and around then that was about what they could do.

 

“And all of a sudden here they were needing to main event. So, you know, what do you do?

 

“You do your best to get them ready for prime time, because Rip asked you to. He said if we weren't careful, there wouldn't be a wrestling business to remember us.”

 

Sid grins. “I, uh... I thought he was overdoing it, I'll tell you. But around November, December, something like that, he brought his kid in. And it all made sense, you know?

 

“He spoiled that kid rotten, once he found out he existed. And then the court thing happened...” He shakes his head. “It's a terrible thing when parents can't put it aside for their kids. I mean, don't get me wrong, these two had their reasons, and I don't think it could've gone any other way.

 

“But that doesn't stop me regretting it happened. Or being sorry that me being around made it worse.

 

“I used to think of Rip as the party animal. It wasn't until it all went wrong I realised which of us was worse.”

 

 

Monty Walker looks away from the camera, a clear picture of embarrassment.

 

“The end of 1997... should be the proudest time of my life. And there's a lot of it I remember very happily.

 

“Any time I was in the ring or on the mic was great. I held two belts, I was carrying a company, teaming with Dan Stone or wrestling him, feuding with the Player's Club, staying high-profile.

 

“When I was actually working, everything was great. Any other time, I was...” He shakes his head. “Man, I was cracking, and I was partying harder and harder to take my mind off it. When you get to the point you're daring Sid Streets to match you, you've already gone too far.” He offers a rueful smile. “By 99, we called that the Rip Chord Barrier. But in 97, I was enough of a party kid to hang with Sid. And that put me next to Rip and Bruce, and I had to match them.

 

“I never got arrested. That's a miracle. But stories did leak out...

 

“One of them made Rip's custody battle a total lost cause. I... you know, you can look it up if you don't know.” He looks straight into the lens. “But, please, I'd rather you didn't.”

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I followed this diary with interest when it started. Stopped when I had some Internet trouble early this year. But I'm all caught up now. And, luckily, it seems to be during the intermission. Will be following from here on again, because the writing's just damn fun to read.

 

As much as I like your full-show write-ups, I DO think you should do a whole diary in the style of this six-month break, or the AQR aftermath, one day. The whole "I'm going to tell you all of the big story, but by bits and pieces, and from the perspective I'm most comfortable writing from" thing seems to agree with you and your writing style.

 

Which is to say. I LOVE those last few updates. And the shoot inteviews were always the favourite part of this diary. Not that I mind any of the REST, mind you...

 

Okay, I'm rambling. I tend to do that. What I really want the message of this post to be is a big "THANK YOU!" for all the stuff you put out to read for me. Both over here and on RPGnet when that was going on. It's made me a better TEW player. It has made me a better smark, as in, I understand differing booking philosophies better seeing you putting then into practise in TEW. And it has made me a better aspiring writer. So, yeah, thanks!

 

Thanks for saying so, man... it means a lot.

 

Also, on a wider note, this is the first time this diary's won DOTM. So thanks, everyone who voted - for me or someone else.

 

Hope you're still enjoying the ride...

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“This is the New School speaking. This is the man who is just Too Good For TV. At my side, the greatest mind in the greatest body, the sensational Easy E. Also with me is the giant Dan DaLay, and the young prodigy Troy Tornado.

 

“Monty Walker, you call youself the world's best loved sellout. You act like you're leading DaVE's revolution. But you're kissing a**e with a Stone. You're as much a slave to tradition as Eric Tyler ever was.

 

“The true revolution will not introduce a Bliss State. It won't save DaVE from itself. The true revolution is the influence of the New School.

 

“Next week, DaVE arrives on TV. Next week, the man who is just Too Good For TV leads the charge. Leads the revolution. Makes TV good enough for the New School.

 

“And I'll be doing it with that belt you're keeping warm wrapped around my waist, sure as my name is Tommy Cornell. We're going to have us a lumberjack match to get things started.

 

“And you? You're goin' home in a f**kin' ambulance.”

 

“If tradition's getting in the way of good wrestling, then tradition needs to go,” Dan Stone Jr fires back. “If the new has something to teach us, then we need to pay attention to the new.

 

“What I'm here for – the only reason I'm here – is wrestling. W – R – E – S -T – L – I – N – G. That simple. That straightforward. DaVE is in a unique position to advance the sport I love.

 

“I want to help. You see, Tommy Cornell, you can talk like being a Stone makes me behind the times. You can talk like the Stones are lost to the past, wrapped up in the legend of our name.

 

“But that don't make it true. Ask your boy Tornado. It's not that he's bad – he's a hell of a talent – but me and him, just now, we went what felt like eight rounds, Texas Death Match style. And for all that he's good, what he isn't is good enough.

 

“I've spent long enough off TV. And this title match you're demanding, as Danger Zone TV airs? Well, Tommy Cornell, if you have a right to be in, I have a right to be in.”

 

 

Monty Walker finishes the last PPV before TV begins, in the ring, looking at the DaVE Extreme Championship.

 

“A lot of people want this,” he says. “A lot of people are sure that they're the one to beat the sellout.”

 

“YOU-SOLD-OUT! YOU-SOLD-OUT! YOU-SOLD-OUT!”

 

He waves the chant down with a grin.

 

“You want to come take this from me? Well come one, come all!” He grins. “Dan, you took me to a draw. You get a shot. Vibert, you still act like you run the place. Pick someone and they get a shot. Cornell, you've been pissing me off.” There's a strong pop. “I'm looking forward to trapping you in a ring with a bunch of badasses. You get a shot.

 

“Bliss, pick someone, and they get a shot. Elimination style. Five men.

 

“Let's show the world what Extreme really means.”

 

The main event of the first Danger Zone TV takes no quarter whatsoever. It takes five minutes before the first use of a weapon, with Derek Barnes hitting the ring to support Jimmy Cox's bid for the title, chair in hand. Stone catches the chair and Braun, wrestling for Bliss State, spears Barnes through the ropes and to the outside, only to turn around into the Immortal Driver. Cox makes the pin, but it's pure formality; nobody has kicked out of the Immortal Driver.

 

Nobody has even come close.

 

That puts a target on Cox, however, as to Vibert's fury, Cornell flashes Walker the time-out signal, jerking his thumb toward the master of the Immortal Driver. A superkick from Walker sends him into a Rough Ride from Cornell – and they BOTH make the cover to ensure he can't kick out.

 

Stone, recovered now from the chair shot, goes to work with a will, and no further eliminations follow for another ten minutes, at the end of which Stone catches a Walker superkick into the Stone Ankle Stretch.

 

Before the champion can tap, as Naess stresses the toll the hold must be taking on his ankle, Cornell low blows Stone, rolling him up for a pin, then comes up with a grin, obviously viewing the injured champion as easy pickings.

 

He sets for the Rough Ride -

 

And Walker counters in midair! High-speed falling DDT! Cover! One, TWO, THREE! THE CHAMP RETAINS!

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I'm curious about Monty Walker's overness. The way this diary reads, he's clearly the hottest thing in pro wrestling in this universe.

 

He's around B- ish.

 

He's easily the most over thing in DaVE and he's pushing lower-tier ME in HGC.

 

DaVE has pushed him to the moon, but if you look back over his HGC time, he's not necessarily doing that great...

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Over the coming month, Christian Faith throws himself into battles with the SWF invaders, often running in to aid other beleaguered HollyWeird types. He seems confident of victory at first, but as the fights go on and the interlopers keep on getting the upper hand, he becomes more and more rattled.

 

After a particularly vicious go-round with Masked Patriot, it's Liberty who meets Christian Faith backstage, sitting there awkwardly favouring his ribs.

 

The American Outlaw flips the baseball bat he has taken to wielding in his own clashes and offers it, grip first, to the leader of the faithful. Christian looks back at him with a rueful grin. “It's come to that, huh?” he asks.

 

“You've fought 'em, you tell me.”

 

Faith laughs. “I've fought all of 'em, a long time now. And I didn't think, coming here, they were going to be a problem. But...” He sighs. “They've got a fire lit under them like never before.

 

“I thought you guys taking beatings from them meant...” He chuckles. “I figured they'd found some easy meat. Turns out... hell no.”

 

“That's why we're worried,” Liberty tells him. “People with a passion like theirs, they actually might take the company down.

 

“If you're willing to help... you're A-1 in my book.”

 

Faith offers a genuine smile at that. “Thanks, man.” He takes the bat. “We'll beat 'em. Don't worry about that.”

 

Sid and Dusty make their third title defence – and their first on the big stage – in late October, at the Pay-Per-View, against the Powers of Hell. It's a strange one, where only Floyd Goldworthy seems willing to say he's cheering for either side.

 

Despite the power of Bubb and the violence of Nemesis, ultimately it's the Streets who prevail, the Road to Freedom staggering Bubb enough for the Dust-Off to land – and the pinfall cements their retention.

 

Christian Faith heads down to the ring as the brothers celebrate. He has a mic in one hand and a baseball bat in the other, slung over his shoulder. He stops short of the ring itself, not wanting to provoke further violence. “I'm still chasing,” he says. “You aren't getting out of this, believe me.”

 

Streets smirks. “That right? Challenging us on your own, are you?”

 

“Ain't gonna work, Chrissy boy. And I say that for two reasons.

 

“First off, I'm the tag team champion here. I don't need to do solo work with you.

 

“Second-”

He doesn't bother continuing. Babylon and Colossus, accompanied by Karen Killer, have reached Faith from behind; he fights Babylon off before eating Colossus' signature two-handed chokebomb on the ramp.

 

“Second,” Karen Killer purrs, “you have an appointment with the most upright of men...”

 

Christian Faith's shadow falls over bare wooden floorboards. The camera pulls back, showing him as a silhouette in a cracked doorway leading into the shattered house in which Charlie Homicide evidently makes his home, showing the HollyWeird World Heavyweight Champion at the other end of the frame, in his cracked, ruined seat which he treats as a throne.

 

Faith is the first to speak.

 

“You sent your lackeys for me.”

 

Homicide laughs. “I did nothing of the sort. I could not even if I wanted to.

 

“Those men are just and upright. They act of their own choosing, and that they offer me support is something I'm grateful for, that's all. Although I'm not surprised.”

 

Faith remains stony-faced after this response, and Homicide continues. “They understand what I do, you see. They know the need this nation has for blood and gold, and they, like me, look to help fill it.”

 

“You don't need to chase me to make me fight you,” Faith replies.

 

“Oh, is that so? Here am I, ready to baptise this gold afresh in your blood. Here am I with a great honour to bestow. And you run away to seek lesser gold, only to fail, as no man will call you brother...

 

“But you are not truly a man, man of faith. You hang back. You put your own vendettas ahead of the needs of others, and you set yourself up as an idol. You are grown soft, man of faith.

 

“And you are fit, at this time, to be sacrificed or to prove you are beyond that, and nothing more. But soon that proving shall take. And all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

 

Faith levels a finger. “You'll get what you're calling for. As soon as I'm damn well ready.”

 

The Masked Patriot has agreed to face Whistler in a Flag Match, and with that being the case, Liberty is set to be at a loose end as the month ends. A week's leeway is given for this to sink in with the fans.

 

At the end of that week, Liberty's quarrel with the invaders leads to a match against Peter Valentine being interrupted. When the Streets blindside him, the Patriot has Eugene Williams distracted, and a Dust Off sets up the Heart Punch. Valentine covers for the pin as the invaders celebrate-slash-raise-hell outside the ring.

 

Afterward, they roll back into the ring. Dusty Streets appears to be calling the shots here, and Patriot and Sid join him in putting the boot in. Whistler, clearly incensed, charges the ring, nailing Patriot with a Rebel Yell before being cut off. But Christian Faith follows at speed, ball bat in hand. His first shot – to Sid Streets' back – hits hard enough that the bat actually snaps.

 

 

The sides are somewhat even, at least until Bruce makes his way out. Sensing the trouble coming, Whistler and Faith pull Liberty out of the ring and beat their retreat through the crowd, who close ranks to prevent the Patriot from pursuing.

 

That Thursday, Liberty and Faith make their presence felt in Shane Sneer's office.

 

“Christian!” Sneer greets him cheerfully, then hesitates. “Ah. I take it, as there's two of you, you're still not interested in Charlie Homicide's challenge?”

 

“Oh, I'm interested. Have been all this time. But, well... I've got something to do first.”

 

Sneer sighs. “Alright, but in that case, you're wrestling Valentine tonight.”

 

Faith and Liberty exchange confused glances.

 

“It's like this. Since you signed your contract, Christian, you've been pulling against where the champ wants you. You've been causing a lot of headaches. Now, I've gotten used to that, and I've worked out I need to have a backup. And that backup is Duane Stone.

 

“He's good. He could be the champion next week, after this one, and if he is then Homicide stops carrying any more water than the rest of you, you two can sort your problems out whenever. But if Duane's going for the top title, then in three minutes, tops, I've got Valentine in here complaining.

 

“So you can fight him tonight. Smooth as you like.” He opens his hands, smiling. “We're clear?”

 

“We're clear, Mr Sneer.”

 

“Right. Word of advice – don't look past Peter unless you get past Peter. He's more than capable of putting someone in a hospital bed when he wants to.”

 

Faith and Liberty look at each other again. “Um-”

 

“Yeah, I know. It's like this; if you don't make it to show night, then Valentine can get in on the title match. So can Liberty.

 

“And whoever wins the match between the Vesseys and the Specialists gets their tag title shot moved forward.” He frowns. “I don't like having to have all these backups, Christian. Don't push your luck, alright?

 

“We're here to do business. Act like a businessman.”

 

Whistler makes it out to ringside with the impromptu team, battered but happily victorious earlier in the evening. Sam Strong, meanwhile, is preparing to enter a cage opposite a giant.

 

Liberty and Faith work well together, but they seem underdogs throughout the match; the Streets brothers have the experience together, the skill together, and all the momentum in the world. Whistler gets involved at one point when, Ryan Holland unconscious, Dusty hits Faith with a low blow to set up Sid with the Road to Justice – which doesn't connect, Whistler cutting it off and taking the shot himself.

 

Faith, re-energised, clears the ring with Faith Hammers – then the big man sets the entire crowd gasping. He hits the far ropes, comes back, and soars over the top rope in a huge suicide dive never seen before.

 

Ho-ly-****! Ho-ly-****! HO-LY-****!

 

The chants grow and grow and grow. In the ring, Liberty takes over, knocking Sid off the apron with a big right hand, dragging Dusty back into place. Another big right hand sends Dusty into the corner where Christian, returning, nails a Leap of Faith to put him down – and pick up the belts!

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“We felt a little robbed,” Karen Killer says, reflectively, from her rock-poster-decorated office. One single memento of her other career is on display, a promo poster of her with Charlie Homicide, hand caressing his championship belt suggestively.

 

“Charlie hadn't had a title reign anywhere that mattered before, not even in the territories. And then, suddenly, he was the best man available to take the top title in – well, number two, number one, around then that was a matter for arguing. You could go other way. We all said number one. Think positive, you know? Dread's big on thinking positive, and someone like him, the whole locker room starts to agree.

 

“So here he is and he's got the belt, he's cutting great videos, he's got me to cover during matches and face to face confrontations, he's good enough in the ring, and he's got a stable below him.

 

“And he's an afterthought. His biggest program was challenging a guy who was more interested in challenging for the tag titles. I mean, that's kind of screwing us over, right?

 

“I'm not saying he didn't have good matches. He did. Stand alongside Rip and Dread in a six-man and the match would be good whoever you put on the other side of the ring. Duane Stone was worth a PPV title shot on name alone, and we really should have sold that one harder, got more of the pure wrestling dollar.

 

“Liberty wasn't great yet, but he was damn good, and he had such a wave of momentum... There were some really good challengers. And anything you do with Christian Faith is going to be gold, of course.”

“The promos got a little strange,” Ricky Dale recalls. “Me and Sean had our thing where we did a lot of pre-tape work. Charlie was totally pre-tapes. I don't know if anyone noticed at the time, because Karen would talk at shows – but Charlie only talked when we could pre-tape.

 

“He'd been working a gimmick like the one he had here for years, but here, he wasn't getting reined in, he was getting encouraged to go bigger. And pretty early on he got to the point where, when he was delivering the lines, he had to fight not to crack up, to burst out laughing.

 

“We couldn't risk letting him talk at shows.”

 

“I had a lot of respect for Charlie Homicide,” Rip says, thoughtfully. “I remember the original plan was for Sam to come back from injury and go straight after him, but then Bruce came in, and the money in Sam locking up with Bruce again was way too big for Sam to ignore. But when that was the plam, I pushed for us to call Colossus up. Build him up, and I figured we could make that Sam's first challenge. Give Charlie a little more time to enjoy his reign before it all fell apart.

 

“I figured we could at least make Colossus and Sam into a PPV payday. Of course, not long after Sam got back, the two of 'em wrestled anyway, and Sam won easily, and it was on the Thursday show before the Thursday show was our only show for a bit.” He shrugs.

 

“Not that it was a bad match, you understand? But that should have made people some money.”

 

“Most of what we were doing at the time was treading water,” Joel Bryant, current booker under John Campbell, recalls from the depths of the Training Center. “At least as far as the company was concerned. We had eyes on us, we were scraping a profit despite the top payouts, but the top guys were getting older and their matchups were getting stale, and some of them knew it.

 

“A Sid or a Faith comes along and a few new options open up – man, people were DESPERATE for Sam against Sid at one point, and we held off on that as long as we could because once that was done, that whole thing was over.

 

“But if we wanted options, we had to make them. The Fox Den, Young Blood, us in the Specialists, the Next Generation...” He chuckles. “We were the only heel tag team that really got that kind of boost in the first year, and a whole bunch of face teams did – hell, look at that list, and I still forgot John and Clark Maverick.

 

“On the other hand, work singles and outside of Peter Valentine it was top-dog faces against new, up-and-coming heels or reinvented heels.

 

“And I think, right there, that was part of why HollyWeird succeeded. SWF had faces dominate the top ranks. Places like the TWL had been heel led.

 

“HollyWeird catered to both sides in different areas. We were a compromise point for fans of all flavours.”

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Phantom, you are one of the people that got me into the diaries and TEW. Your TCW diary is the only one I have downloaded and read for almost an hour non-stop. I love this one, although the bits are a little annoying compared to the style I'm used to you using.
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“I look at you,” Jimmy Power tells the Human Arsenal, “and I see a contender. You proved yourself. I'm not thinking what you can be for those idiots in the cheap seats. I'm thinking about what your future can be.

 

“We could make each other a fortune, kid. You're good. You can be better.”

 

“That what you told your stooge?”

 

“Marcus wins. A lot. Not that surprising. He hits like a runaway train.

 

“Now, you've not got his size. But I know tricks to take advantage of your skill.”

 

“And for this you've been attacking me?”

 

Power shakes his head. “You know why I drew a target on you, kid. And you know how that worked out for both of us.

 

“Stick with me. I'll get you more matches. More money. More wins. You want to be a champion before you're thirty? Because without me, that's not happening.”

 

The Arsenal looks at him for a long moment.

 

Power smiles. “You think about it. The attacks stop now.”

Two weeks go by and the Human Arsenal is back on the card – and up against Azrael.

 

He lasts barely a minute. Afterward, the Arsenal sees Power has been watching this whole time. He spits disdain.

Another three weeks go by. The Arsenal finally reappears on screen. His opponent? Peter Valentine. This is a much more balanced contest, but Valentine prevails using his signature move, Charlie Thatcher.

 

This time, when he sees Power watching, Arsenal charges him. Power braces, raising his hands to lock up, but Arsenal meets him with a flying dropkick that sends both men careering back through the entrance.

 

Cameras follow them into the brawl, which Power is trying to keep from being a brawl – he's wrestling, showing all his experience in stalemating attackers, ultimately taking the Arsenal down and locking in a chinlock. Arsenal struggles but doesn't have the counter to break free. Power begins to whisper in his ear.

Marcus Bowen is drawn opposite Jason Jackson. Azaria acknowledges that Jackson's HGC record is mixed, but plays up the high points and his recent successes alongside the Hype. Goldworthy retorts by asking why Jackson never seems to be in title contention, and Rhodes offers the opinion that Jackson is currently happy just seeing the new generation and testing himself against them.

 

Goldworthy isn't impressed by that approach, but grudgingly admits that Jackson still has it.

 

Bowen carries an advantage, nonetheless, throughout the match. It's not just the power – he's adding counters to his repertoire, and as Azaria fills in for the crowd, Jimmy Power and Jason Jackson have done battle in the eighties and nineties both across five promotions; they've always been drawn to feuding eventually.

 

With Power's tips, Bowen blocks Jackson for a while, wears him down, and hits his running Stampede. “It's like watching a train wreck!” Goldworthy comments.

 

The Human Arsenal, who's been watching, disappears back behind the curtain, looking disgruntled.

The Human Arsenal isn't seen on screen again until early December. When he does appear, it's in a situation nobody expected – he comes out for a tag match against the Fox Den with Marcus Bowen. Jimmy Power, while with them, is with them in a suit.

 

“Well, this isn't what we had scheduled...” Azaria notes.

 

“It's not what the Fox Den prepared for, either,” Rhodes says sympathetically. Goldworthy, meanwhile, is practically cackling, praising the Arsenal for seeing the light.

 

The Fox Den have been on an absolute tear, and at first the announce team are expressing shock simply that their opponents, apparently untested as a team, are holding their own. When they block Fire and Night's stereo superkicks, the crowd really wake up; when Arsenal monkey flips Night into Bowen's waiting arms for a sit-out piledriver, the announce desk just about explode.

 

Fire breaks that up, of course, but Arsenal counters out of his Furusawa armbar; undeterred, Fire plays target a while as Night recovers, then the two of them innovate a headscissors-lock/dropkick combination to send Arsenal out of the ring and a cutter/frog splash sequence to get Bowen off his feet and pin him.

 

“Don't let the record books fool you, folks,” Azaria says. “That was an incredible first outing, and I see big things for this team.”

Arsenal and Bowen are in competition again the following week, this time facing off against Sweet Sensations. While the 'pop stars' have been developing fast in the ring lately, especially since Miss Mexico and Reese decided to give them some tips, this is one of the most one-sided matches in HGC history; the Sensations, between them, land a total of one dropkick and one punch, while Bowen and Arsenal close them down and systematically beat them down.

 

About the best thing that can be said for the Sensations in this one is that, until the end, they kick out often and they kick out early – but their opponents are pushing at every exchange for a pinfall. Every big move is followed by a cover.

 

“They want the win,” Azaria says softly. “They'll do whatever they have to to get it, too, looks like. This isn't sadism – this is control.”

As December comes to a close, during Psycho Circus, the new duo participate in a four-team elimination contest for number one contendership to the tag belts, currently held by Liberty and Christian Faith.

They make a good showing of it, combining with the Demons of Rage to eliminate the fiery and enthusiastic Fox Den, before Bowen catches Demon Anger by surprise with his signature charge, and Arsenal takes advantage of the staggered opponent to hit the Ammo Dump and make a second pin.

All seems well for them until they are, at last, eliminated by the Next Generation.

 

Hill and Holmes offer them some respect after the match, and Bowen takes it. Arsenal is slower to shake the proffered hand, but ultimately does so; subsequent gesturing makes it clear they're looking for a title shot should the Next Generation win in January.

Waiting for that to be over, Jimmy Power mounts the ring steps, and Bowen holds the ropes open for him. He raises the microphone to his lips.

 

“Always said there was two things in life I hated, dogs chasin' cars an' broken down wrasslers chasin' me,” he says.

 

“I swore I'd never be that guy... and I won't. Because these two men with me are talented, hungry sons of b**ches who just need the trainin' to take them all the way to the top.

 

“These men are Heavy Duty. And Jimmy Power is about to become the most successful manager in wrasslin' history, This is only the beginning. You watch this space.”

 

A week into January, Power is backstage, reading a local newspaper and drinking from a mug.

 

“Damn fine coffee,” he remarks, to nobody in particular. He turns the page.

 

Giant Redwood walks up behind him.

 

“**** off,” Power says absently.

 

Redwood looks utterly horrified by this then enraged. He raises a fist-

Out of nowhere, Marcus Bowen brings him down hard with a clothesline.

 

Power takes another swig of coffee. “Pour yourself a mug, Marcus.”

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By which, obviously, I meant my next non-backstage update.

Marcus Davies, the former Morpheus, former American Buffalo, former Marcus Bowen, is seated on the bleachers at what looks to be an empty college football stadium. A cooler box rests next to hi. Throughout his appearances, in keeping with the COACH hoodie he wears, his eyes flick fro the camera to the unseen field and back.

 

“Something that was becoming clearer all of the time was that things were changing in the, what these days we'd call the fandom. A lot of the boys were saying it was the Internet that did it, but I've never bought that.

 

“When you're on the road all the time, the guys you ride with become your brothers and sisters. There's no other option. We'd go out and catch a movie some nights. Some nights everyone would pile into Rip's room, we'd drink, we'd shoot the shit, some folks were off in the corner with the magic laughing dust, the TV would be on in the background.

 

“People were looking at movies and TV different to how they had been. And that... you know, that was always going to apply to wrestling. We were starting to find out how.

 

“The way SWF had worked, the way the boys expected HollyWeird to work, being big was enough for some people. Jethro was never going to be the champ, but when he signed he figured he'd be feature material for life.

 

“And as it actually worked out, people were going off him so hard that when I clotheslined him for Jimmy, that nearly turned us face again for some of the crowd.”

 

 

Elmer Kelly, the big beast commonly known as Yellowstone, grins broadly, shrugging his massive shoulders. “The nineties were going to be the last gasp of the giant in wrestling, wasn't that what they said?

 

“Only that really didn't seem to happen. What happened was, what we do, what we are, how all that works, that changed. Kind of a frustration for me, really – I was getting some really good training down in LSW before they figured it out. It took me half the 2000s to relearn, you know?

 

“I got the same kind of training the Fox Den kids and Killer Kovach were getting, and only about half of it was any use to me.” A pause.

 

“Well, that's being unfair. I still say I have the best top-rope splash of any big man, period.”

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This is a much more balanced contest, but Valentine prevails using his signature move, Charlie Thatcher.

 

I've said it before, but I think you have too much fun writing Valentine.:D

 

“Well, that's being unfair. I still say I have the best top-rope splash of any big man, period.”

 

That right there is a TERRIFYING image.:eek:

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I've said it before, but I think you have too much fun writing Valentine.:D

 

That sort of line mostly goes in for my own amusement. I'm always glad when someone spots them; you guys are paying attention!

 

Working on the next post I mentioned, which features a bit of Redwood, at the moment. Might be up today, might go up tomorrow. Either way, consider it a Christmas present/

 

I've not got many more of these to do before we're up to date and can move forward. Who else is excited?

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MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEME

 

Great stuff as usual. The 500 pound Elmer splash reminds me of a Bryan Alvarez review of a gangsta-styled indy show where a 450ish fat guy somehow did a slingshot senton onto his opponent that resulted in near fatalities.

 

I think thats the link.

 

One thing I'm actually interested in is what exactly happens if more SWF contracts come up. If Keith or McCallum comes up, do they pull the trigger, or does Hollyweird step away from that and try to create its own stars for the fut-bahahahahaahaha god no Strong's still bookin.

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MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEME

 

Great stuff as usual. The 500 pound Elmer splash reminds me of a Bryan Alvarez review of a gangsta-styled indy show where a 450ish fat guy somehow did a slingshot senton onto his opponent that resulted in near fatalities.

 

I think thats the link.

 

One thing I'm actually interested in is what exactly happens if more SWF contracts come up. If Keith or McCallum comes up, do they pull the trigger, or does Hollyweird step away from that and try to create its own stars for the fut-bahahahahaahaha god no Strong's still bookin.

 

Y'all know Show used to do a moonsault, right?

 

And I tried for Sean McFly, didn't get him. Other SWF contracts... it'll depend.

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“So you're the king of extreme?” Hollywood Mike Kinsey asks Monty Walker.

 

Walker looks back at him, wary. “I guess some folks call me that.”

 

“You push the limits.”

 

“It's how I win.”

 

“Wanna push mine?”

 

Walker pauses. “Are we talking about the ring?”

 

Kinsey laughs. “Definitely,” he says, then leaves.

 

Monty watches him go, shaking his head. “What the hell was that all about?”

The Untouchables have been staved off, but the Players' Club are hungry now. While Electrico and Pablo Rodriguez continue their sparring elsewhere, Heartthrob, Kinsey, and Constantino are focused on Walker. Rocky in particular invades all of his matches for a solid month.

Elsewhere, Romeo Heartthrob is also devoting some time to pursuing the HollyWeird Girls, in particular Victoria and Reese, who are less than enthused with his promise to “show you a kind of mat technique that will make your heart... throb.”

Reese slams a door extra hard toward the end of the month. “Oooh... I want to break something!”

“What's up, babe?” Davey J asks sympathetically, flexing as he works out with his dumbbells.

 

“Sneer. He won't greenlight a match between me and Vic and those two Player's Club numbnuts. Says the network and the PPV carriers both won't accept it unless both sides are mixed.”

 

“Can you find someone to team up with... no, that's not going to work. Look – me and Jackie'll give them a match. How about that?”

 

Reese looks at him for a long moment, then pulls out her cellphone.

 

“What?”

 

“Get Jackie here. I'm calling Vic. If you two are going to do this, you need crash training, starting now.”

Despite Rocky's attacks, Monty Walker weathers the storm through the month, and in the last main event before the PPV, he teams up with Mr Lucha and Sam Strong against Rip Chord, Dread, and Hollywood Mike Kinsey. In a hotly contested bout, Chord and Dread between them put Strong down, only for Lucha to break up the pinfall.

 

Strong rallies only moments later, then drops to one punch from Dread outside the ring. He stays down for the rest of the match, amid clear confusion from Lucha, Walker, and Kinsey.

 

The others battle valiantly, but after some spectacular aerial antics, they're just outnumbered. Lucha falls to a Rip Chord DDT. Dread lays out Walker with a Dreadsault. Chord invites Kinsey to make the pin.

 

That pinfall loss is surely on Monty's mind when, before his championship defence against Kinsey, the Players' Club as a whole swagger down to the ring.

 

The numbers game is against the International Champion once again, and his expression shows how much he knows it. As Heartthrob and Constantino stop Kinsey outside the ring for a strategy huddle, Walker seizes the initiative, hitting the far ropes and vaulting over the top rope in what was, at the time, an almost never-seen sight as he leaps from in the ring to dive to the outside onto the trio stood outside.

 

He collects Heartthrob, whips him into the guardrail, then clotheslines him over; turning, he sees Constantino charging and meets that charge with a backdrop. With both of Kinsey's allies dumped into the crowd area, he takes a moment to celebrate, only to be cut off in his turn by a low blow from Kinsey.

 

“It's legal!” Goldworthy exclaims gleefully. “The match hasn't started! Get him in the ring, Mike!”

 

Which is exactly what Hollywood Mike proceeds to do, going for an immediate cover. Walker gets his shoulder up – barely – but he's been slowed, and Kinsey proceeds to take advantage of that.

 

Walker stays on his feet long enough to get his bearings after the pre-match assaults, and ultimately squeaks out a victory when, Constantino trying to get involved at ringside, Sweet Sensations hit the ring to bustle him away, distracting Kinsey long enough for Walker to nail a top-rope bulldog and get the win.

Later in the night, Sweet Sensations go up against Constantino and Heartthrob, with Victoria at ringside. The boy band come out with their game faces firmly in place, more than ready to compete.

 

Constantino starts for his team, Davey for his. They square up they circle-

 

Rocky boots Davey in the balls, right in front of Ryan Holland, plain as daylight. Holland stares.

 

He turns to call the DQ.

 

He turns back and punches Constantino in his own balls.

 

“Don't cross the Extreme Ref!” Rhodes chuckles.

 

“Its been a bad night for the Players – oh.” As Azaria was making his observation, Heartthrob entered the ring at speed. Knocking Jackie off the apron with a charging elbow, he doubles back, locking down Cupid's Clutch on Davey, cranking on the pressure.

 

It's Victoria who changes that, mounting the ropes to hit-

 

“Peter Valentine's gonna be piiiiiiiissed,” Kyle says cheerfully. And it has to be said that the diving headbutt she performs looks a lot like one of Black Cobra's signature assaults.

 

It's too late for Davey, at least in the short term; he has to be stretchered off.

Wherever the Player's Club go the following month – especially when they target Walker – they find Sweet Sensations waiting for them. It's a quiet, low-key sort of a war, but it's a war all the same, and a recurring theme at the announce desk is how these kids have gotten fired up. There's a lot of question, of course, about why exactly, and whether they can truly be more than they currently are.

In Shane Sneer's office, Monty Walker looks profoundly uncomfortable. “I don't want anything to do with this, boss.”

 

“What? Being rescued by a boy band hurting you back in Philly?” Sneer grins.

 

“Nothing to do with that. I don't like their music.”

 

“Nor do I, but my daughter loves it. And sales say she isn't the only one, so management says they stay.” He shrugs. “So here they are, and they're involving themselves in the business of three people involved in yours.

 

“That's your reason, anyway.”

 

“What's yours?”

 

“I'm not a wrestler, Monty. I'm caught between red tape and Victoria Stone, and anything that keeps me out of that trap is good by me – even if it means the ghost who walks teams up with some youngsters on pay-per-view.”

 

Walker sighs, looking at the International Championship. “Stupid thing is cursed,” he grumbles.

 

“How's that?”

 

“Boss, I've spent most of my time holding this title being hunted by packs. I want some nice simple matches where their buddies can't intervene.”

 

Shane looks at him thoughtfully. “Get through the six man, Monty. Next month I'll change things up, and any advantage someone has on you? They'll have had to earn.”

 

Walker looks at him suspiciously after that, but nods and leaves.

The six-man tag is surprisingly good, with Heartthrob and Walker providing the anchors for their sies while everyone else gets a chance to show their stuff and take some punishment.

 

Sweet Sensations are clearly improving in the ring, but the impromptu dance party causes them some trouble when Constantino rushes to take advantage. Walker has to break it up with a moonsault and he soon finds himself in further trouble when Kinsey comes in.

 

The Players' Club have a clear experience advantage and they let the younger team do most of the work, steadily exhausting themselves just to keep up. Heartthrob sees a moment, slides in, front Russian leg sweep to Davey, Cupid's Clutch is -

 

Not locked in! Monty comes off the top with a flying elbow, breaking it up easily. He drags Romeo up, steps back -

 

Sweet Sensations hit a stereo dropkick before Monty can land The Last Walk.

 

At this point all hell breaks loose. Six men battle in the ring, and ultimately, when all the punches and kicks are thrown, it's Walker and Kinsey who remain, their backs to one another as they watch the brawls outside.

 

They turn. They face each other. They close in. Kinsey plants a kiss on Walker. Walker is not a little flummoxed. But then, not long afterward, Walker isn't a little suplexed either. Or a little stomped. Or a little pinned.

 

“You know,” Hollywood Mike says the following broadcast, “that was wrong of me. Truly wrong.

 

“My sexual power isn't a tool for winning matches. It's a thing to be given as freely as all you ladies and men need. It's healing, it's love, it's the great embrace. So Monty, I apologise for surprising you. But not for moving you along the Kinsey Scale.

 

“But I know you're not feeling the healing, the love.

 

“I know you're not recognising the need. You should. You have it in you. But that's not-”

 

Walker's music hits and he marches down to the ring. Unusually in HGC, he has both his belts with him.

 

“I'm sick and tired of not going one on one,” he says, “when the title's on the line.

 

“Next week. You and me. In a cage. Whatever Sneer's got in store for this belt... I want you done with before it happens.”

 

“So long as you don't mind when I take your sloppy seconds on to Psycho Circus,” Kinsey smirks. “You want to know what it feels like to hold a championship forever? Ask Sam Strong.

 

“He'll tell you how it feels when someone pulls it out of your grasping fingers.”

The cage match is built up throughout the episode, clips from Walker's title reign being shown as well as a video discussing the fact that Heartthrob and Constantino have both held SWF titles, but Hollywood Mike Kinsey, thus far, hasn't. Much is made of the fact that Monty Walker is the longest-reigning champion in HollyWeird's short history.

 

The contest itself is a vicious, messy brawl. At one point, when Walker has the advantage, Rocky Constantino rushes down to ringside and starts to climb the cage, only for Sweet Sensations to run down too, climbing on either side of him. When they catch up, they each grab one of his arms and kick off from the cage into backflips, sending all three crashing to the floor.

 

Inside the cage, Kinsey's leathery frame is proving an advantage, as is his tag team cage experience from elsewhere. He delivers a Mustache Ride into the unforgiving steel and drags Walker out into the centre of the ring, makes the cover – and at the very last second, Walker kicks out.

 

More punishment continues, until Monty manages to block a couple of punches in a row, buying enough breathing space to take to the air with a pinpoint-accuracy dropkick.

 

Mike crashes into the steel himself, and the contest is a lot more even for a few moments, until a rash Kinsey charge sees him trapped between the ropes and the steel.

 

Walker takes full advantage, peppering him with a volley of kicks each of which drive him against the cage wall until he slowly trickles down it and back under the bottom rope.

 

Satisfied, and egged on by the Sweet Sensations, Walker ascends the cage wall to victory.

“I said it was going to be something new, Monty. I said people wouldn't have a chance to gang up on you.” Shane Sneer, proud in the middle of the ring, smiles to Monty Walker at the entry ramp as he continues.

 

“At the end of this month, if you make it there with the title – and I know you're a fighting champion – you will have made it a full year with the belt.

 

“Not bad, considering we only introduced that championship and crowned our first champion eleven months ago.

 

“If you make it to the end of the year, Monty, then at Malice in Wonderland we're going to celebrate... with a twenty-man battle royal for the International Championship.

 

“Anyone trying to gang up on you will need eyes in the back of their heads. Anyone trying to help you will need eyes in the back of their heads.

 

“You know something, Monty? I want you to win. A year as champion? Impressive. More? In this day and age, that's unheard of. So let me give you some extra incentive.

 

“If you make it there and you win there – and only if you win there – I will give holders of the International Championship the right to name their stipulation for title defences.

 

“You'll have earned it.”

After Duane Stone finally triumphs over Peter Valentine in the opening match of Malice in Wonderland, Shane Sneer is shown in his office. The door slams open and in marches Cowboy Ricky Dale, who opens his mouth but doesn't get to say word one before Sneer starts talking.

 

“Firstly, Ricky, it's been four months. I appreciate how you feel – I'm the one who requested Federal investigation, remember? The fact is, all the same, she's either unfindable by bad luck or by choice. I put you in this match in the hopes of shocking you back into the real world.

 

“Secondly, Azrael has at least honoured the terms of his contract. He shows up. He wrestles matches. Allowing a camera crew to film you making a damn fool of yourself chasing your high school friends all over the country to see if they've seen her isn't fulfilling your contract, I don't care how many fights it got you into, I don't care how many times Azrael-style creepy s**t happened. You have a job to do and so do I and as much as I'd like to give you more time to get your head together, my job says I've got to make you do yours.

 

“So save it, get out there, and try your best to win a damn title.” He pauses, and delivers the most devastating line of any pep talk. “God's sake, boy, take it from a Carolinan, you're makin' Texas look bad.”

 

Dale's face goes white and, without saying anything, he wheels around and stalks out of the office. The camera turns back to Sneer, who watches after him for a beat, then smiles. “Good kid,” he says to himself, before turning back to his monitor, on which the Tag Team Specialists are just emerging from the entryway ahead of their title shot against Liberty and Faith.

–

The double-ring setup of Malice in Wonderland truly comes into its own in the battle royal. At the beginning there are, indeed, roughly ten men in each ring, giving room for competitors to move.

 

However, the Hustlers, lackeys to current Hardcore champion Frankie Future, are both eliminated early on by Night and American Fox, representing the Fox Den in the contest; Roger Cage falls to a sprinting missile dropkick from Night Fox, and attempting to avenge him, Ernie Turner is outmanoeuvred and eats a double superkick to post him over the ropes.

Azrael, meanwhile, kept apart from his recent adversary Dark Angel by a watchful Cowboy Ricky Dale who remains between the two, gives a bellow of denial. Both of new team the Mavericks are eliminated in one incredible double-chokeslam.

Dark Angel and Teddy Flame do battle, before the Hype, seeing an opportunity, knocks Flame from the ring. He celebrates for just a moment; it's enough for a big boot from Azrael to eliminate him.

Electrico springboards across both rings with a flying headscissors, eliminating Pablo Rodriguez and hanging on to the ropes. Their rivalry was officially 'settled' by a match the previous month, but this contest showed clearly that it was anything but.

In the middle of the ring, Azrael and Dark Angel clash. The battle leads them to the ropes, and the unlikely difference maker is Giant Redwood, staggering Dark Angel with a double-axe handle long enough for Azrael to knock him over the top with an uppercut. Dale collides with Redwood in vengeance, but is interrupted by Azrael.

The Hype is next to go, when Marcus Bowen staggers him and the Human Arsenal takes him out. Heavy Duty nod to each other, turn, and meet a charge from Electrico as one; a simultaneous double-punch, one to the jaw, one to the gut, and then they dump him out.

That's when the Fox Den charge them. Stereo superkicks put Bowen over the top; Arsenal promptly tosses Night and drills American with the Ammo Dump, then bails to safety while Azrael puts out Killer Kovach.

Anderson tries to eliminate Tom Gilmore, but the young man has been receiving tips from Dread for reasons he's not sure of for weeks and has a good counter. Anderson goes out, as, a moment later, does Ramon Paez, his stay much longer than the announcers expected. They agree it bodes well for the lad.

As successful as he's been, though, Gilmore is the next to go; Azrael evades Dale's Leaping Lariat, but Gilmore can't. Azrael, meanwhile, blocks the champion – who hasn't been able to make any eliminations all this time, what with the size of the target on his back – and tosses him out one-handed, running roughshod over the competition.

 

American Fox gets him off his feet with a top-rope bulldog, but celebrates for too long; Azrael powers up to one knee and grabs him, boosts him over his head, throws him to the outside; American, meanwhile, wins acclaim by at least landing on his feet.

 

Dale and Azrael clash again, taking each other close to the ropes. After all this time developing his own powers, harnessing his growing rage, Dale has the advantage. He shoves free, pushes Azrael away, takes a moment to breathe, and shoulderblocks him over the rope.

 

Getting up, Dale celebrates for a moment. He turns -

A strangely familiar woman has come out of nowhere. Dale eats a chairshot which sends him over the top rope.

Recovering in the far corner, Giant Redwood wins the International Championship by default.

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