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Afterburn #2 – For The United States

Afterburn #2 – For The United States

The show opens with a fade in of Matthew Cories nailing the Chumbawamba on Mike Lane and pinning him.

“Matthew Cories has done it! By god, this kid is our new Hardcore Champion!”

Then darkness.

The flutter of birds is quickly accompanied by the frightening figure of Scarecrow – who Chokeslams Matthew hard into the canvas.

Then darkness.

And then he’s gone. No-where to be seen. The Scarecrow vanishes and we’re left with an unconscious Hardcore Champion.

“That’s the thing nightmares are made of!”

The World Championship, beautifully displayed inside a glass cabinet – that is until Marvellous Master Chef uses his skillet to break the case and steal the belt.

“So being that we’re both still in the tournament and both still within a shot of winning that thing, I’d ask you to put it back.”

WHACK!! SKILLET to the skull! DTR hits the canvas with a thud and MMC escapes the ring, running to the backstage area with a World Championship that doesn’t belong to him.

Our introduction comes to a close with the grinning masked smile of Master Chef, who in holding the title closely, exits the arena.

Explosions suddenly rock the arena and we’re live inside The American Airlines Arena, the not quite sold out crowd cheering loudly as Afterburn kicks off its second ever event here in the OSW. “Dying Breed” by Five Finger Death Punch plays in the background as the fans roar almost drowns out the sound. The camera spins to ringside where Rick Walker and Richard Roman sit, both full of smiles and eager to kick off the show.

Rick Walker: “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Afterburn. You know that after last week, we’re all keeping a vigilant eye on the dark corners of this arena tonight.”

Richard Roman: “None of us want to run into The Scarecrow.”

Rick Walker: “But that’s not exactly going to be easy for at least one member of the roster tonight as Matthew Cories goes one on one with the thing that attacked him last week.”

Richard Roman: “There’s also the continuation of the World Championship Tournament and as second chance saloon for many of the competitors last week when the United States Championship is decided inside a Battle Royal.”

Just then, the twang of Good Ride Cowboy hits as Colt Jackson steps out in front of the crowd, complete with cowboy hat and a dip of skoal in his bottom lip.

Richard Roman: “Who the hell is this?”

Rick Walker: “This is Colt Jackson, a new signing that isn’t actually scheduled to be here tonight.”

Colt walks straight to the ring, holding his right hand in the air while giving the longhorn salute. He rolls under the bottom rope and with a big toothy grin, asks for a microphone that he hastily receives.

“Thank ya for the warm welcome. My name is Colt Jackson, or Colt 45 if you’re feelin’ fancy and I ain’t even scheduled to be here tonight,” he says with a shake of the head, clearly upset by that fact. “But none the less, I’ve come out here to talk to you about the United States of America!”

A cheap pop and a “USA! USA! USA!” follow.

“Tonight there’s a Battle Royal for the United States Championship an’ I ain’t been invited to intend. I don’t see how that makes any sense seein’ as I’m the quintessential American. I’m from the great state of Texas, a state I love so much I gave a forearm for it,” he references his tattoo by raising it to the camera and then continues. “So who better to step into the ring tonight and become your representative; your United States Champion!”

The harsh, industrial sounds of Techno Animal’s “Cruise Mode 101″ crush the airwaves and interrupt as the house lights turn to a stramash of sporadic strobes. It doesn’t take long for Isaiah Black to emerge from the back, a hood pulled over his head and a microphone in his hand.

Rick Walker: “This appears to be a night for unscheduled appearances Rich, because that’s Isaiah Black and he’s not scheduled to be here either.”

Richard Roman: “So we’re dealing with a pair of gatecrashers? That’s perfect.”

He stops at the top of the ramp, bows his head, and throws his arms in the air. Fire bursts from two small, handheld flame-throwers for as long as “The Grim” can handle the scorching heat, before he drops them and stomps towards the ring. Inside, he heads threw the ropes and steps immediately to Colt.

“Get out of my ring!” says ‘The Grim’ receiving an extremely loud chorus of boo’s from the audience.“What? You think I give a damn about America, or some fool trying to win himself a Championship? Nah, you people had better listen up and listen up good.”

Colt folds his arms and it’s apparent he’s not impressed. Isaiah though doesn’t care a single dot and continues.

“If you’re gonna stand in this ring with me, you had better understand somethin’ Colt. I don’t give a shit about winning the United States Championship tonight, or the fact that someone decided not to put me in the match. But you know what? I’m going to enter myself, just like you. Do you know why? It’s because none of you fucks deserve it. You’re all weak, entitled, pathetic, attached to a life of glory you neither have or deserve. I know only one thing to be certain one thing in this world you’re entitled to and that’sDEATH. I’ll teach ya, I’ll teach ya when I’m comin’ for your throat!”

Suddenly he lunges at Colt, attacking him with brutal fists that send him sprawling back into the ropes. The viciousness of the attack is not only a surprise to Jackson but to the fans, who watch as Isaiah pummels away at him. He slides to the outside and grabs a lead pipe from underneath the ring, entering under the bottom rope.

Rick Walker: “Someone needs to stop this before this psychopath ends his career.”

Richard Roman: “I don’t think anyone can.”

Isaiah bends down and picks up his microphone, kneeling over a very dizzy Jackson.

“You see this Colt?” he asks showing him the metal pipe. “I could end you right now with this. You’re looking into the eyes of the end and I know you’re petrified, I know you’re terrified. I could put you out of your misery, but I won’t,” Isaiah surprises us all and says whilst dropping the pipe. “Not yet anyway.”

Isaiah stands up as Techno Animal’s “Cruise Mode 101″ blares again, the fans booing him as he heads to the backstage, uninterested in what they have to say.

Rick Walker: “That guy is scary. There’s something not right inside his head.”

Richard Roman: “Or is everything right? He said it himself, didn’t he? No-one is entitled to anything but death in this life and everything else is earned. Colt wanted to talk about the American Dream – well Isaiah has a reality check for him; it doesn’t exist.”

The sound of “To Them These Streets Belong” by Rise Against follows Ed Famous inside the squared circle where Hayden Hardkore is patiently waiting. At the sound of the bell, there is no hesitation from Hardkore as he sprints across the ring and lands a Yakuza Kick to the face of Famous who immediately drops to the mat. A quick cover. ONE … TWO … and Hayden Hardkore comes split seconds away from an extremely fast pinfall. Famous is pulled to his feet and Hayden hits the ropes. FROM NOWHERE Ed Famous catches Hardkore with a superkick that brings the American Airlines Arena crowd into a frenzy.

Famous chooses to not go for the pin, but instead brings Hardkore to his feet long enough to deliver a strong snap suplex that makes Hayden growl in pain. He makes the cover. ONE … and that is all he gets. Wait a second! That’s Zeek Williams! Zeek Williams is on his way to ringside. What is going on here? Both men back to their feet with Famous still in control. An inverted atomic drop and Hardkore is in pain, but remains on his feet. Famous follows it up with a REVERSE DDT and now he’ll go for the cover. ONE … TWO … THAT was close! Hardkore gets a shoulder up just in time.

Zeek Williams is standing at ringside and now Famous has spotted him. His attention is grabbed. Long enough for Hayden Hardkore to clear the cobwebs and preform a schoolboy. ONE … TWO … Famous kicks out and both men are up. HURRICANRANA from Hardkore brings Famous right back to the canvas. Hayden onto his feet and to the ropes. SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT and the cover. ONE … TWO … and Hayden Hardkore nearly comes away with another victory. Hardkore will try again. Famous brought to his feet. KNEE lift from Famous. AND another. And DOUBLE ARM DDT! It’s the INFamous! The INFamous! Famous makes the cover … ONE …

WAIT! Zeek Williams is up on the apron. The referee has abandoned the count and heads to the ropes. Famous is looking around. He doesn’t know why the official stopped counting. NOW he sees. Famous to his feet and he confronts Williams. Williams and Famous having words. And look out! There’s Hayden Hardkore! From behind with the rollup! ONE … TWO … THREE! Hayden Hardkore takes this match in the closing moments with an assist from Zeek Williams. Ed Famous is NOT happy!

Ed Famous is understandably furious after being cost the match but doesn’t have even a moment to react as Zeek slides into the ring and starts stomping a mudhole in him. Williams beats him down in the middle of the ring, stomp after stomp, brutalizing him before pulling him to his feet and leaping onto the middle rope- THE SILENCER!! THRUSTING KNEE TO THE FACE!!

Rick Walker: “These two are tearing each other apart?”

Richard Roman: “Good! After last week, Zeek is getting a little revenge.”

Williams though isn’t done and reaches down, pulling the scarf off of Ed Famous’ face, leaving him without his anonymity. Thankfully he’s laid out face first on the canvas but that doesn’t stop the fans from voicing their opinion.


Rick Walker: “I can’t believe he did that. He just risked revealing Ed’s face to the entire world and if we know one thing, it’s that he wants to keep his face out of the public eye.”

Richard Roman: “Then I would suggest better picking his battles because right now, he’s this close from being outed!”

Hayden Hardkore is extremely tired after his match tonight and heads to the backstage area, grabbing a bottle of water and rehydrating. As he arrives back there, Professor Bordeaux is stood waiting, clapping sarcastically.

“Congratulations, you must be extremely proud of yourself,” he continues with sarcasm. “You ignorant buffoon, desecrating your face with those markings and winning matches thanks to the interference of others.”

Hayden seems a little taken back. “Have you ever heard of the phrase; ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’? Well if you think for one second I’m an ignorant buffoon, or some kind of idiot, just because I wear this proudly, then mate, you’re the only ignoramus around here.”

Rick Walker: “That’s uncalled for.”

Richard Roman: “Well look at him, he’s an idiot prancing around here with those tribal markings all over his face.”

The Professor shakes his head with disdain.

“I see you dispute your features but not your victory,” Bordeaux muses, purposely. “It becomes apparent what matters more to you.”

The Flying Kiwi steps closer.

“What do you want me to say? Ed Famous was going to get beaten tonight whether or not Zeek Williams played a part in it. Am I proud of it? Not entirely but I sure as hell didn’t stand around and do nothing out there,” he says before barging past Bordeaux and beginning to walk off down the corridor. As he does, he shouts backwards. “Maybe you should worry about your own match.”

Rick Walker: “Professor Bordeaux faces off against Desmond Cross tonight – so perhaps Hayden is right and his focus would be better spent elsewhere.”

Richard Roman: “Don’t worry about Bordeaux, he’s fully capable of beating Cross.”

Bordeaux chuckles to himself, thinking he’s got Hayden’s number before walking off in the opposite direction.

This tag team match starts off with Waldo The Clown shoeing Rick Mad to their corner and reluctantly Rick goes to his corner. Brent Kersh is starting things off for his team. The Clown honks his nose and lets out a psychotic laugh as that seemed to take Brent Kersh off his game enough to poke his eye and then land a couple of rights to The Enforcer. Waldo irish whips Kersh but Kersh reverses it and catches The Clown with a running clothesline that sends the fans in a frenzy, seeing the Clown knocked on his wallet.

The Enforcer tags in his partner, 911, who comes into the ring, guns ablaze, striking The Clown with lefts and rights, landing an Enziguri which causes The Clown to stumble to his corner as Rick Mad tags himself in. This didn’t sit too well with Waldo but he goes to his corner. Mad runs at 911 but gets caught across the face by a spinning heel kick! Cover … One! Two! KICKOUT! Mad looks out of it. As Mad uses the aid of the ring ropes, 911 goes after Rick Mad but gets caught by surprise by a right hand that sends The White Ranger down to the mat.

It looks like Rick Mad is set to grab ahold of 911’s legs, looking to lock in the Sharpshooter. Waldo is extending his hand, wanting a tag in the worst of ways, Mad turns his attention to Waldo as Kersh enters the ring and grabs Rick Mad … SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT! The Enforcer knocks Waldo off the ring apron as 911 is up and hits the Hoax Call! 911 covers … One! Two! THREE! What a solid showing from two impressive individuals here tonight as they attempt to ascend the OSW ladder and make a name for themselves here tonight.

We’re backstage following DTR who is a man on a mission after last week’s assault left him with stitches. He barges into the locker room of Marvellous Master Chef, determined to get back the World Heavyweight Championship.

“Where the hell are you Chef?” he screams as he frantically searches the room for the belt. There’s food strewn everywhere, making it the most unhygienic place in the building. “My God this is disgusting.”

Rick Walker: “That’s like going through a garbage site. How could Dave search through that?”

Richard Roman: “He’s hoping he’s going to catch a whiff of that title but the only thing he’s likely to catch is hepatitis – if he hasn’t already.”

He can’t find it and with a sigh of frustration, turns around, heading for the door. Just then a knife comes whipping past his face with some velocity, barely missing him and piercing a note on a board behind him. DTR can’t believe it, turning to see the weapon and the note. He pulls the knife out angrily and takes a look.

Rick Walker: “Holy crap, that was close. Did you see that? That knife barely missed him.”

Richard Roman: “I think up until now people have thought of MMC as some kind of joke. He could of killed him, Ricky, it’s a matter of fact. There’s no joke in that.”

“I could make a good meal with Rattlesnake,” Dave reads aloud with a grimace across his face. “That son of a bitch! Where the hell are you? Huh? Up there?”

Dave storms towards the halls of the corridor but can’t find him. Wherever the Master Chef was hiding, he’s clearly gone now and left The Rattlesnake more than a little rattled.

The match begins quickly and viciously with John Pathlow combining his ring entrance with a football tackle that sweeps Mike Lane completely off his feet. A series of fists follow with Pathlow mounted securely on top of the dazed Lane. The bell rings, indicating a very impressive start for Pathlow considering the size advantage he is giving up in the match. An advantage that becomes apparent when Pathlow brings Lane to his feet and sends him to the ropes only to be reversed into a short arm lariat.

Pathlow is down, but Lane is reeling. Both men steadying themselves to their feet. Lane is the first to attack and it’s a snap suplex that puts Pathlow on his back. A cover. ONE … TWO … Pathlow is out in just the knick of time. Lane is quick to his feet and straight to the ropes. DIVING elbow to the face of Pathlow and another cover, BUT PATHLOW REVERSES INTO A KIMURA LOCK! What a great move from Pathlow and out of nowhere. Lane is in serious trouble here, but destiny is on his side as both men were close enough to the ropes for Lane to break the hold.

Lane is shaken and Pathlow smells blood. He’s quick to his feet, yet still woozy. Pathlow to the ropes and back, SWINGING neckbreaker and Lane goes down again. There’s a cover. ONE … TWO … ANOTHER near pinfall and Pathlow wastes no time in delivering another series of fists to the skull of his opponent. Lane brought to his feet and Pathlow applies a side headlock. INTO a running bulldog and Pathlow goes for another cover. ONE … NO, Lane kicks out again. What a match this has turned into. Lane is in trouble though. Brought to his feet again. SMALL PACKAGE FROM LANE! ONE … TWO … HE PULLS THE TIGHTS!!! THREE!!! Mike Lane steals the victory away from Pathlow and the Michigan native is not happy!!

Mike Lane retreats wisely up the entrance ramp after that impressive victory with a microphone and waits for his music to cut.

“You’re a loser John, don’t you get it? That’s two weeks and two loses in a row and I’m going to keep that coming until you tell me who the fuck attacked Errol Flint,” says Lane who then tries to catch his breath. He walks a little bit back down the ramp and continues. “You’re all about making money, right? Well you could’ve come to us and we’d of doubled that offer. Now you aren’t going to make a dime, do you know why? Because we all know that losers don’t make money.”

Rick Walker: “He has a point. Winning matches and Championships around here dictate pay. I don’t like the guy but he’s right.”

Richard Roman: “Amen.”

Before he can say another word, the fans roar and confuse him – that’s because Acid is barrelling down the ramp behind him. He grabs him by the pants and the back of the head and runs him straight into the ring where Pathlow is happily waiting for him. Mike pops up off the canvas and BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA! MASSIVE LEAPING SUPERKICK BY PATHLOW! That almost took his head off!


The American Capitalists stand in the ring, arms raised in celebration as Mike Lane lays beneath their feet, unconscious. Suddenly their celebration is interrupted as on the Titantron appears Errol Flint.

“Gentlemen, please, don’t let me interrupt your celebrations,” he says as the music comes to a quiet cut in the background. Pathlow and Acid turn to look at the Titantron in confusion. “I thought I’d remain at a safe distance this time because I have some news for you. Flatline is just two weeks away and you’re going to have a match. It’s going to be The American Capitalists vs. Mike Lane in a two on one handicap match.”

Rick Walker: “Uh, okay? Isn’t he putting Lane out to slaughter?”

Richard Roman: “He must have faith in him or something.”

The American Capitalists look extremely pleased with that – Pathlow grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“But that isn’t all. You see, this match is going to have some stipulations. First of all, if YOU LOSE then for the foreseeable future, you have no business. I’ll be shutting the American Capitalists down. No-one around here will be able to hire you and you won’t make a single dime from any of your matches until you tell me the name of the person who hired you.”

Rick Walker: “They’ll be wrestling for free!?”

Richard Roman: “He can do whatever he wants!”

“Secondly, it would seem the odds aren’t in Mike’s favour so it’s only fair that we have a special guest referee,” he says tapping his chin, pondering. “Now I wonder who’d love that opportunity? Oh I don’t know. How about ERROL FLINT! I’ll be seeing you at Flatline!”


Richard Roman: “This is unbelievable!!”

The Titantron flicks off and leaves the fans booing as The American Capitalists look at each other, perhaps realizing that they’re in some serious trouble now.

With the Cage lowered around the ring and both men inside it, the bell sounds and they lock up. Marcus over powers Lennox into a Side Headlock and is rushed against the ropes, only to be sent off and dropped with a Drop Toe Hold. Lennox quickly hops onto the ropes and tries to make his way up the cage, except The Black Knight is hot on his tail and follows. Both men fight on the top rope, Marcus finally wrapping a leg around and falling backwards with a RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP FROM THE TOP ROPE! There’s no pin falls in this one and you only win by escaping the cage.

The Black Knight is back to his feet and pulls The Incredible One to his, right handing him backwards into the ropes. He goes for another but Lennox blocks it, BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX! Matt drops him hard on the canvas and demands that he gets back up, yelling at him; “I’m not done with you yet, get up!”. Marcus obliges and gets back to his feet, only to be grabbed by the head and RAMMED HEAD FIRST INTO THE STEEL CAGE! JESUS CHRIST! The Incredible One quickly heads up the ropes and onto the cage, making his climb for freedom.

Marcus finally gets back to his feet, slowly trying to follow Lennox up. Matt is now at the top and swings his leg over, only to have his other leg grabbed by The Black Knight. Marcus pulls himself up there too and now both men sit slugging it out on top of the cage. The Black Knight bounces Lennox head off the cage rim once, twice and FINALLY SENDS HIM PLUMMETTING TO THE CANVAS!! The fans roar as Marcus swings his leg over and begins climbing down. He hits the floor and the bell sounds, The Black Knight picking up the win here tonight.

We catch up with Fate backstage who receives a massive cheer from the crowd here tonight. He’s walking down a corridor likely towards the curtain for his match when he suddenly stops, turns around and looks behind him. Clearly feeling like he’s being watched, he continues only to stop again.

“You don’t have to creep up on me like some kind of stalker,” he says expecting a response but receiving none. “If you want a pair of my panties, all you have to do is say so.”

Again, nothing – except crowd laughter.

Fate turns around once more and physically bumps into the large looming frame of Desmond Cross, whose smile is wide and white.

“No-one but God is there, my brother,” Cross says with joy, likely having been the one stalking him. “And God is always watching you. Just like a few moments ago when God saw you eat that Burrito, he talked to me and he said, Desmond…”

“Stop that man before he gets diarrhea?” Fate says holding his belly as if he feels a little sick. “That seems like some good advice but hasn’t God got more important things to do? Don’t you? If you and God are watching my every move Desmond, you’re going to see a few things you won’t like. I know it’s been a long while since someone, you know,” he whispers. “Touched you down there,” he smiles. “But Fate doesn’t have to wait that long, okay?”

Rick Walker: “That didn’t go down well.”

Richard Roman: “How dare he insult God’s messenger like that.”

Desmond’s insane smile suddenly turns to anger, anger that he manages to hold onto.

“You’re funny, you’re humorous, you’re clearly foolish too. God has sent me to save you but I’ve just realized, he wants me to save you from yourself,” Desmond preaches. “And it seems I may have to go to extreme measures to stop your soul from burning in the damnation of hell.”

Fate laughs, taps Cross on the shoulder and walks off down the corridor.

“Goodluck with that!” Fate shouts from down the corridor, not seeing the demented expression that has crept across the face of Desmond Cross.

Rick Walker: “This is going to get uglier before it gets better, isn’t it?”

Richard Roman: “I think so. I don’t think Fate realizes what he’s gotten himself into here.”

The bell rings as both men lock up in the middle of the ring, neither man gaining the advantage until Zeke goes low, landing a savage Muy Thai knee that impacts hard against Dave’s ribs. Zeke keeps hold of Dave, punishing DTR with knee after knee, a final one lifting Dave up a few feet off the mat. Zeek then throws Dave across the ring, attempting a clothesline that DTR ducks under, and turns into a neckbreaker. Zeek slowly gets to his feet and is met by a striking flurry from DTR, who kicks Zeek hard in the guts, powering him up into the air and landing an impressive BNBE, hooking the leg for the cover upon impact…One…Two…Kickout

Zeek slowly gets to his feet but gets taken down by a hard DTR clothesline as the crowd begin to cheer as the Rattlesnake begins to psyche himself up just as someone walks out onto the rampway. Marvellous Master Chef walks out, not speaking a word but holds the world title high in the air, DTR yells in anger at him before turning around right into a massive RIP DDT. DTR looks out cold as Zeek drops down for the cover…One…Two…Thr…Kickout! Dave just gets the shoulder up, as Zeek looks down in anger, stomping DTR with a few savage kicks

Zeek pulls DTR up to his feet, staggering DTR with a huge Muy Thai knee, before nearly taking his head off with a Discus Lariat. The RIP City Saint signals for the end, setting DTR up for the Silencer, but Ed Famous appears in the crowd suddenly, wielding a ‘I Made Zeke Famous’ sign. Zeek takes offence to this, jawing at Ed for a few moments before turning back around to DTR, THE RATTLER! Out of nowhere DTR hit his finisher and he has the leg hooked…One…Two…Three!!! DTR has won this, he’s going to the final four after again proving he can end a match out of nowhere, but he may well have Ed Famous to thank for the win though.

When we head to the backstage area, it’s to see 911 heading down the corridor to an amazing cheer from the crowd. He stops dead, approached and confronted by the Hardcore Champion Matthew Cories- who also receives a cheer.

“I wondered when we would finally cross paths,” Cories says with some pent up frustration. He’s not happy with 911, who stands there, hands on hips, looking at him. “It’s not every day you meet a fraud.”

“A fraud?” 911 asks with some confusion.

Rick Walker: “I wondered when this was going to happen.”

“Well there can only be one true Tommy, and you’re not he.”

911 thinks about it for a moment and shakes his head. “So that’s your malfunction, huh? I’m the White Ranger and you’re what, the Green Ranger? I don’t think it matters who’s Tommy because we both know that white beats green.”

“I AM the Green Ranger, only I’m more powerful than you, White Ranger!” he says poking 911 in the chest, mimicking an important scene from Power Rangers that we all likely recall.

Rick Walker: “Did he just quote The Power Rangers? These guys are nuts.”

Richard Roman: “Maybe Scarecrow actually knocked him back into the 90’s?”

The White Ranger scoffs at him and pokes him back.

“There’s only one fraud in Ranger clothing around here and that’s you, Champ.”

That makes the Champion furious but 911 doesn’t care. He simply shrugs his shoulders and walks off, leaving the Champ to fume at what he’s just heard. This one is long from over.

The bell rings and both men circle each other and lock up in the center of the ring, Cosplay quickly shoves Fate to the mat, breaking the lock up. The crowd get to their feet and look toward the entry way as Desmond Cross has stepped out from the back and plops himself at the top of the entry ramp on a steel chair. Cosplay doesn’t waste any time, delivering a stiff clothesline dropping Fate once again. The big man grabs his opponent by the hair and drops him with a huge belly to belly.

Cosplay gets a huge head of steam and rushes toward the grounded Fate looking to squash him but Fate moves. Fate is up to his feet in a hurry and delivers stiff elbows to the head of Cosplay but they look to barely effect the big man. Fate rushes against the ropes, comes off and is caught after trying to connect with a flying cross body, Cosplay drives him into the turnbuckle before dropping him with a slam that squashes Fate.

Getting to his feet, slowly, but surely Cosplay poses in the middle of the ring. While Fate still lays motionless on the canvas, Cosplay scoots his way to the turnbuckle and begins to climb to the top. As he stands on top he poses like Superman…When out of nowhere balloons begin to plummet from the ceiling. Cosplay immediately freezes and doesn’t know what to think which allows Fate to crash into the ropes, crotching the big man. Fate follows up the top rope, ADVERSITY FROM THE TOP, Fate takes a good brunt of the impact but not as much as Cosplay. Fate makes the cover, 1…….2…….3. Fate wins!!

The Black Knight is backstage jumping up and down on the spot, trying to get himself ready for the Main Event that takes place in only a little while when a hot Matt Lennox approaches.

“You must think you’re something special, huh?” Matt says holding his head, still in pain from the Cage Match earlier tonight that Marcus won. “Well let’s see how well you do in the battle royal!”

Rick Walker: “When is this guy going to learn that he’s picking a fight with the wrong man?”

Richard Roman: “Marcus found himself lucky tonight. It won’t happen again.”

“Hold on a second Matt, it was you who thought my losing last week was funny. You’re the entitled rich kid who thought beating up a Reverend meant that you could beat me inside a Steel Cage,” Marcus says with a shrug of the shoulder. He steps closer to the angered Lennox and offers him a challenge. “But look, if you still think you can take me, how about you fight me at Flatline?”

Lennox looks at him with a disgusted look.

“I don’t think I can, I know I can and I’ll prove it. I accept your challenge for a match at Flatline but it’ll be under my terms, alright?” He suggests with wide eyes as Marcus nods in agreement. “It’ll be a Submission Match.”

Rick Walker: “That’s one hell of a match up. If tonight’s match is anything to go by then this one will be an epic.”

Richard Roman: “An epic that Lennox will pick up the win in, that you can be assured.”

“It could be a Deathmatch for all I care, you’re on,” The Black Knight agrees. “I’ll see you out there tonight.”

Matt is about to walk off when he chuckles to himself, stops and shrugs his shoulders. “Oh I forgot to mention, no, you won’t. I don’t mean to hold you back brother, but I had a word with Errol Flint and it would seem that you’re no longer in the Main Event.”

The fans boo as we fade out with the shocked face of The Black Knight.

The bell rings and Cross quickly gets the upper hand, peppering the former Professor with a series of hard right hands before sending him across the ring, dropping him to the canvas with a massive clothesline. Bordeaux slowly gets to his feet, standing right into a series of rights and lefts from the monstrous prophet who powers Bordeaux up onto his shoulders, walking around the ring for a few seconds before planting him down with a thundering Powerslam. Cross dropping down for a cover shortly afterwards…One….Two…KICK OUT!

Cross goes to pick up the Professor when he notices Fate walking down the ramp to ringside. Cross leans over the ropes, yelling a few choice words at his rival, as he’s suddenly rolled up from behind by Bordeaux. One…Two..KICKOUT! Cross gets to his feet furious but gets a thumb to the eye from Bordeaux who follows up with a huge European Uppercut, dazing the big man. Bordeaux seeing his chance, rushes to the ropes, taking Cross down to the mat with a Chopblock, before dropping down with several knee drops to the right leg, trying to take out Desmond’s vertical base.

Bordeaux lands several kicks to the right knee before attempting a Figure Four Leg Lock, but as he wraps around the right leg, Desmond manages to kick him off with his left into the ropes and as Bordeaux bounces off, he’s taken down by a spinebuster variation, landing on the mat hard as Cross calls for the finish. Desmond signals for the Amazing Grace as he urges Bordeaux to his feet. The Professor slowly gets up but as Cross gets his hands on him, a low kick leaves him prone as Bordeaux shoves Cross’s head between his legs, EARLY DISMI…NO! “96 Quite Bitter Beings” by CKY suddenly hits out of no-where, distracting Bordeaux as he’s about to finish this one off. Hayden Hardkore doesn’t come out though and Cross backdrops his way out of the move, sending Bordeaux flat on the mat once more. This time, Cross doesn’t wait, powering Bordeaux up to his feet, lifting him up onto his shoulders, AMAZING GRACE. Bordeaux may be out cold as Cross hooks the leg for the cover… One…Two…Three!!! Cross has won it with a dominating display and he celebrates in style, almost flaunting his victory in the face of Fate, who simply smiles, applauding the win almost sarcastically, as both men engage in a powerful staredown.

When we next head backstage it’s to see Lord Richward Merriweather entering the building. Merriweather isn’t scheduled to compete tonight and as a result, Charlie Thompson is standing by with a microphone.

“Richard Merriweather-“ Charlie asks, only to be quickly cut off.

“LORD!” he spits back in her face.

Rick Walker: “I hate this guy. What’s his problem?”

Richard Roman: “Right now? I think it’s that she got his name wrong.”

She slowly wipes the spittal from her face and continues, “I’m sorry. Lord Merriweather, you’re not scheduled to compete here tonight but you’re here, may I ask why?”

Merriweather stands proud and sneers in her direction. “Do I need your permission to be here, my dear? I think not,” he responds nonchalantly. “I’ve refused to wrestle tonight because last week I was put into the ring with a disgusting ball of sweat and puss known as Cosplay. I will not be competing on Afterburn until I’ve been given an opponent worthy of my stature.”

Rick Walker: “He can’t do that. He’s on this roster to compete and last week was a disgrace.”

Richard Roman: “He’ll compete when he’s good and ready, Rick. Would you get in the ring with Cosplay?”

Rick Walker: “If I was paid to, of course I would.”

“Stature?” a scoffing voice says from out of picture. Rick Mad waltzes in looking about as unimpressed as can be. “Is it that you don’t want to wrestle or you can’t wrestle?” Mad asks. Richard steps back, almost in disbelief. “You’re not a wrestler, are you? You’re a business man. Well let me tell you a wise business decision, okay? Let me give you some business advice,” he offers without giving Merriweather a chance to respond. “You don’t fight, you don’t get paid.”

Mad taps his head and walks off leaving Merriweather almost gobsmacked. Charlie has a quick follow up question but it’s less than appreciated.

“What do you think of Rick Mad’s comments, Lord Merriweather?” she bluntly questions.

Rick Walker: “Merriweather didn’t like that at all.”

Richard Roman: “Can you blame him? Rick Mad has no respect.”

Instead of answering though, he scoffs himself and angrily walks off, clearly not happy.

Before the bell can ring, the MMC who is still holding the stolen World Championship kisses it and puts it in his corner like it’s his. He admonishes the referee telling him not to touch it which allows Acid to come over and jump right on MMC, throwing some forearms and taking him down to the canvas. As the Chef is on the ground trying to cover up, Acid is kicking away at him not giving him any space or room. Acid gets the Chef to his feet and throws him to the outside.

Acid throws his body against the ropes, coming off and connecting with a huge suicide dive to the Chef, throwing both men into the guard rail. Acid is the first to his feet, shaking the cobwebs out but sliding the Chef back into the ring. Acid climbs the top rope waiting for the Chef to get to his feet and when he does he flies off toward him but the Chef is waiting connecting with a dropkick that floors both men. Miraculously both men are able to get to their feet at the same time.

The Chef throws a wild punch but misses, Acid hits him with a atomic drop, bouncing him right down on his appetizers. Acid is looking to end this match, signaling for his finisher but as he sets up to finish it, the crowd stands on their feet as Mike Lane is sprinting down the aisle. Acid completely loses his composure, trying to fend off the distraction from Lane which allows the Chef to get to his feet. After a boot to the midsection of Acid, The Chef nails him with the Kitchen Sink!!! Just about broke his damn neck. He makes the cover, 1…….2…….3. The Chef wins.

The Marvelous Master Chef grabs the World Title and celebrates as if he just defended it. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dave The Rattlesnake sliding into the ring and the MMC quickly scurries out of the ring and up the ramp as DTR chases after him.

After the balloons from earlier tonight that some would suggest cost Cosplay his match, he angrily storms backstage looking for Waldo. He barges his way into his locker room and stumbles face first into a pit of balls. Bemused, he struggles to pop himself back up and looks rather astonished.

“Foiled by The Joker? This cannot be!” he says.

Rick Walker: “Cosplay just doesn’t have a clue, does he?”

Richard Roman: “More to the point, how did Waldo get a ballpit back there? I totally want one for out here.”

“JOKER!!!” he yells angrily.

Just then, Waldo appears, leaping through the balls to attack him. Cosplay doesn’t know what’s hit him – though it’s likely a ball – as Waldo pummels away at him, grabbing ball after ball and crushing it on his rotund head.

Rick Walker: “I don’t even know what to say about that.”

Richard Roman: “BALL FIGHT!!”

With Cosplay laid out face first in the ballpit and rapidly sinking to the bottom, Waldo pulls himself out and with a ball in hand, finds great humour in the experience.

“The joke is on you, Batman!” he says seemingly buying into this nonsense. He throws the ball down at the sinking Cosplay and smirks. “Why so serious?”

Rick Walker: “Jesus Christ. Are you going to tell me that Waldo now believes he’s the joker?”

Richard Roman: “I have no idea but it’s hilarious!”

With Matthew Cories standing in the middle of the ring with his title raised, the arena is suddenly thrust into darkness as the sounds of squawking crows can be heard. They flutter away and the lights turn back on, revealing the Scarecrow standing in the middle of the ring, his arms spread and his head lowered. Cories doesn’t know what to do as the bell rings and attacks him, battering him with right hands and kicks that barely seem to effect The Hayman. He looks around the crowd nervously before running into the ropes and coming back to a massive Clothesline than literally spins him inside out.

The Scarecrow looks down at him and grabs him by the throat, lifting him back to his feet and throwing him one handed into the corner. He then storms in with a massive Big Boot that Matthew somehow ducks underneath, scurrying away across the ring. Scarecrow turns around to see Cories with a low Dropkick, taking out his knee and taking him down to one. He backs up again into the ropes, running back with another that crashes into the terrifying mask of The Nightmare. The Hardcore Champion now has the crowd on his side and goes one more time, determined to take him down only this time, ScarecrowTHROWS HAY IN HIS FACE!! HAYDAY!!

Cories hasn’t a clue what just hit him and stumbles backwards, wiping the hay away as The Hayman gets back to both feet and grabs him, lifting him up and down with a Body Slam. The Hardcore Champion rolls away and to his feet, running almost blindly at The Scarecrow who scoops him straight into a Tilt-O-Whirl Slam. The Nightmare doesn’t cover though and stands up, raising his arms into the Perch position that signals the end. Matthew slowly stumbles to his feet, turns around and kick to the gut… POWERBOMB, but wait, he lifts him higher so that he’s almost in a Perch position himself – THE LIGHTS GO OUT! WHAT THE HELL? When they come back on, Cories is unconscious on the canvas and The Scarecrow is led across him. One…. Two… Three!! That’s it! It’s over! What the hell happened when the lights went out? Matthew Cories didn’t get revenge tonight but if he’s lucky, he’ll escape with his head.

Scarecrow grabs poor Matthew from the canvas with a massive hand around his throat, squeezing the life out of the poor kid. He’s apparently not finished yet and with a tilted head, is about to make Cories wish he was never born.

Rick Walker: “Oh come on, he’s had enough damnit.”

Richard Roman: “This is just scary.”

Suddenly, the sound of “Chariots of Fire” by Vangelis is heard throughout the arena, prompting the crowd to rise to their feet with a roar of excitement as the unforgettable sound of Brent Kersh’ music blares, interrupting The Scarecrow. Brent hits the stage with a microphone, looking rather displeased.

“Just hold on a second, alright?” Brent asks carefully. “I don’t make a habit of sticking my nose in other people’s business but I can’t sit by backstage like everyone else and watch this happen.”

Rick Walker: “I’m so glad someone feels that way.”

Richard Roman: “Brent had better be careful or he’s going to be leaving here tonight on a stretcher.”

The problem is – The Scarecrow hasn’t stopped looking at the limp frame of Matthew Cories. The Monster is hell bent on destruction and Brent knows it.

“HEY!” he screams this time, trying to get his attention. “Are you listening to me? I know you want someone to intimidate, someone to frighten, but the kid is done, he’s unconscious, he’s not going to fight back,” Kersh tries now in desperation. All he wants is for Scarecrow to stop. “Why don’t you fight someone who will fight back?”

With those words, The Scarecrow snaps his head around and into the direction of Kersh, dropping Matthew like he barely had him in the first place.

Then the arena goes dark.

Rick Walker: “Oh God, this can’t be good.”

Richard Roman: “The Enforcer had better get out of here.”

The lights return and Brent remains stood on the entrance ramp, looking towards the ring.

Only The Scarecrow isn’t there, he’s behind him, arms spread and head lowered. Kersh turns to walk away and bumps directly into the nightmare.

Rick Walker: “He’s behind you!!”

Richard Roman: “Too late!”

Scarecrow reaches out and grabs him by the throat, launching him as hard as he can into the Afterburn set behind him, damn near throwing him through it.

Rick Walker: “Jesus Christ!”

Poor Kersh is laying on top of the entrance ramp, his head busted wide open from the impact, but yet he still won’t give up. He reaches up at Scarecrow who looms over him, trying to grab at his legs and pull himself to his feet. It’s then that The Hayman grabs him by the head and whilst looking in his eyes –HAYMAKER!! WHAT A POWERFUL RIGHT HAYMAKER!!

Rick Walker: “He could of just knocked his teeth out. Holy Christ, someone better get out here and see to Brent Kersh.”

Richard Roman: “We’ve got the US Title Battle Royal coming up and I really don’t think The Enforcer is going to make it.”

EMT’s and security rush the stage, although no-one dares go anywhere near Scarecrow until the lights go dark. When they come back on, he’s vanished and that gives the EMT’s a perfect opportunity to assess poor Kersh, which they do, as he remains unconscious and bleeding from a wound on his forehead.

With Brent Kersh being attended to on the stage, the entire roster except Scarecrow, Marcus and the Championship tournament competitors make their way out to the ring. The bell sounds and we’re quickly underway with a mass brawl in front of us. The first go to over the top rope is Waldo The Clown – who Cosplay dispatches with as much force as he can muster, hopping through the ropes and diving off the ring apron with a massive Belly Flop, almost squashing the life out of the clown and eliminating himself in the process. The crowd roar with excitement at that but meanwhile, back in the ring, Matt Lennox is Clotheslined over the top rope to the outside by Ed Famous.

Three eliminations already and this match is on fire. Whilst the fight continues in the ring, we suddenly switch to the entrance ramp where Brent Kersh is awake and refusing attention. He pushes one medic away, telling him “I’m fine, I’m fine!!” before stumbling back towards the ring.

Rick Walker: “Is he really going to compete in this match? He’s still bleeding for Christ sake.”

Richard Roman: “What an idiot. Go and lay down you fool.”

Rick Walker: “I don’t think he knows the meaning of the words lay down and give up.”

Brent slides into the ring and is set upon quickly by Zeek Williams and Mike Lane who clearly have no intentions of letting him be. That’s when and to a massive ovation, 911 dives in, attacking Black with a Clothesline and dragging Lane away, only for Acid to nail him with a Crossbody Block. Kersh is back up and ducks an incoming Clothesline by Famous, running him straight over the top rope to eliminate him as well. Rick Mad meanwhile is brawling with Colt Jackson when suddenly, on the Titantron appears his wife Danita – being spoken to by Lord Merriweather. Rick doesn’t hesitate to slam Colt to the canvas with a right hand and storm to the outside, eliminating himself as he goes after Merriweather.

Just then, 911 is being leveraged over the top rope by Professor Bordeaux and as Kersh comes to help, he’s tackled with a thunderous Spinning Heel Kick by Zeek Williams and 911 is dumped over the top. Mike Lane is by now back to his feet and attacks Acid in the corner, making short work of him with Isaiah Black getting involved – that is until Colt Jackson evens the odds and both men start battling back. Colt blocks a Russian Legsweep attempt by Black and swings with a Clothesline, except Isaiah is wise to it and ducks, grabbing Jackson by the head and launching him over the top. Acid is quick to follow as Mike Lane gets his revenge, dumping the masked Green Dragon over as well.

Meanwhile across the ring, Brent Kersh has retaken the upper hand from Zeek Williams and with some help from Hayden Hardkore, dumps Zeek over the top and to the floor, eliminating him. Kersh is doing phenomenally well for someone who just took one hell of an attack. Just as the commentators say that, Kersh stumbles to his knees and Professor Bordeaux is there to take advantage, running him head first over the top to the outside.

Rick Walker: “What a valiant effort and a standing ovation from the crowd to match.”

Richard Roman: “I can’t believe he wasn’t eliminated much sooner.”

We’re down to the final four now in Hayden Hardkore, Isaiah Black, Mike Lane and Professor Bordeaux. Only one of these four men will become the United States Champion and unfortunately for Hayden, he’s outnumbered by the bad guys. All three men attack viciously, beating him down to the canvas and stomping away at him. They soon have him back to his feet and dumped unceremoniously over the top rope.

The final three all square off now and there’s no loved loss, especially from Isaiah Black who storms across and nails Lane with a Clothesline. Black turns around to meet Bordeaux and a massive kick to the mid-section, the Professor nailing him with a DDT. Bordeaux pops back up and smugly grabs Lane, throwing him over the top rope and dusting off his hands as though he’s finished. Lane though landed on the ring apron and it’s Isaiah Black who storms across the ring, ducking a Clothesline attempt and nailing a Dropkick that finally sends Lane off onto the floor.

Rick Walker: “We’re down to the final two! Either Isaiah Black or Professor Bordeaux are going to become our first United States Champion.”

Richard Roman: “So it all comes down to the American and the Frenchie. C’mon Frenchie!”

Both men lock up in the middle of the ring, Black winning the tie up and taking Bordeaux into a Hammerlock. He wrenches back but the Professor is quick to back him up to the ropes, where COLT JACKSON IS WAITING! WAIT A MINUTE! COLT PULLS DOWN THE TOP ROPE AND BLACK STUMBLES STRAIGHT OVER IT! HE’S OUT! JUST LIKE THAT! PROFESSOR BORDEAUX HAS WON IT! Colt Jackson, to a cheer from the crowd, quickly escapes through the audience as Isaiah Black sits on the floor, in utter disbelief that he’s just been conned out of the belt.

Irrespective of how it happened, Professor Bordeaux drops to his knees in celebration, standing only to demand that the referee place his newly won United States Championship belt around his waist. The fans hate every minute of it, booing wildly as Bordeaux raises his arms to soak in their response. We’ve a newly crowned United States Champion and he’s from… FRANCE.


Rick Walker: “This is horrible! Professor Bordeaux is now our OSW United States representative and Champion. What a night, what a terrible night. Until next time folks, we’re the OSW and you’ve been watching Afterburn.”

The show comes to a close with Bordeaux in the middle of the ring, his arms raised and the US title around his waist.



The Butcher