Combat Arts & Wrestling presents High Stakes

The scene opens to a small but well-furnished office. A smiling Scarlett is sat behind the desk.

Scarlett: So it's CAW's first PPV and I've taken High Stakes to the Hammerstein Ballroom for the best atmosphere in North America. Kicking off the show, Chris Williams will get a chance at revenge as he takes on Howard Show in a Bloodsport division match. Then we have the first High Stakes Match - the winner gets a shot at their divisions belt while whoever gets pinned loses their job. It will be Butcha Yafi, Cesar Pineda and Manu Solider taking the risk this time.

The first CAW Tag Team Champions will be crowned too as several teams - including a mystery one - face off in a gauntlet match. The entry numbers will be picked at random to ensure everything's fair. Then our two divisional champions make their first title defences. Due to last weeks no contest, Psycho Dragon will take on both Seth Skyfire and Trevor Andrews while Sonichu will put his strap on the line against mini-tournament winner Krash.

It's going to be a hell of a night and they'll be a lot on the line. Don't miss it.

December 7th, 2010

Fade in. Aesha sits fidgeting in a hospital waiting room, exhaling slowly as a way of calming herself down. As per usual, she’s dressed fashionably; make-up, black winter coat, tight-fitting dress and boots. The door swings open and a middle-aged doctor beckons her outside into the corridor. In silence, she follows him past several rooms. Then he stops and turns to her, a very stern expression on his face.

Doctor: Miss Cole, I don’t want you to be alarmed when you see Mister Ashton. He has suffered quite serious burns and scarring to his face. Right now we’re unsure on what can be done in terms of plastic surgery and skin grafts - but we’re doing all we can.

Aesha: Okay.

Doctor: Just make sure you sign out when you leave.

Aesha nods once. The doctor walks away briskly as she takes a deep breath. Without knocking, she pushes open the door and cautiously enters. A figure in bed instantly reaches to the bed-side table, grabs hold of a prosthetic mask and clasps it to his face.

Aesha: You don’t have to do that.

Storme sinks back into the bed, his head resting gently on a soft pillow. Through the eye-holes of his mask, he watches Aesha push her flowing black hair out of her face. She stands still, hands clasped together, blinking back the first teardrops.

Storme: I don’t want you to see me like this.

Aesha: It won’t make me think any less of you.

Storme: That’s real sweet - but it’s just not true, is it? Appearance is important, Aesha, and we both know this very well. You seem to have forgotten all about the Syndicate of Sexy.

Aesha: Honestly, that doesn’t matter to me now. All I’m thinking is that the man that trained me is going through a painful time in his life and he needs somebody to help him through it.

As an awkward silence ensues, Aesha takes a few paces closer to Storme. With the mask obscuring his face, she cannot tell his emotional response to her words.

Storme: So that’s it, huh?

Aesha: What do you mean?

Storme: The man who trained you - that’s as far as we go – but that’s never been enough for me. Don’t you get it, Aesha? I love you. I fucking love you.

Her eyes gently close as tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.

Storme: I always have done; from the days I trained you right up until this very second. That’s why it hurt so much when you were with Dash... you know, I would have left Kaya for you. I swear I would have left her.

Aesha opens bloodshot tearful eyes and looks into Storme’s, mascara ruined. She takes a deep breath and then speaks with a tremble in her voice.

Aesha: I-I’m back with Dash now.

In an instance, Storme’s hands clench into fists and his head lowers, chin nearly touching his chest. Aesha sniffs as she wipes away more tears.

Aesha: I’m so sorry, Steve. There’ll be other girls.

Storme: No. Not now. Not with these burns.

Aesha: The doctor said that-

Storme: I know what he fucking said! There’s a chance they can make me normal again... a chance... why didn’t you ever give me a chance, Aesha? All I want from you is an answer. Come on, you owe me that much. What does Dash have that I don’t?

Aesha immediately turns and walks quickly to the door. She opens it but before passing through, takes one final look back at the bed.

Aesha: I hope you get better soon, Steve. I really do.

Storme glances sideways at the solemn Aesha. She blows a kiss and leaves. Fade out.




December 8th, 2010

Fade in. Steve Storme is still lying mask-clad in the hospital bed. Since Aesha left, he has done nothing but reflect upon all the successes and failures of his past – all the things he regrets. His train of thought is disturbed as the doctor enters with a weak smile.

Doctor: How are you feeling today, Steve?

The doctor waits by the door for a few seconds, waiting for a response. When none comes, he clears his throat and takes a few paces closer.

Doctor: Well I’ve got someone outside who’s here to talk to you about options - what to do next with your life.

Storme: I don’t need advice from somebody who doesn’t even understand the business I work in. I get tired of people looking in from the outside THINKING they know what’s best for me.

Doctor: No no, Steve, this man was a former professional wrestler himself. He had to retire earlier than expected as a result of injuries inflicted by rivals, so he’s perfectly qualified to discuss your future with you. Hopefully this will be beneficial.

When there is no reply from Storme, the doctor opens the door and “The Eliminator” Zachary hobbles in with aid from a cane. Steve doesn’t turn his head and just continues staring into space. Zachary has changed considerably; his stomach protrudes and his previously muscled arms have sagged. He walks with difficulty into the room and stands leant on his cane as the doctor exits. When the door shuts, Zachary speaks firmly with some bitterness in his voice.

Zachary: Bet you didn’t see this coming, huh?

Instantly recognizing Zachary’s voice, Steve’s head turns rapidly, his eyes narrowed.

Storme: W-what the fuck?

Zachary: I volunteered to do this. Why? Well if I’m totally honest, I wanted to see how far the mighty Steve Storme has fallen. You know, a lot of people have been waiting, no, praying for this – the day you get your comeuppance.

Storme: If you’ve just come to gloat then you can get the fu-

Zachary: You can’t say you don’t deserve this, Steve. Ryan Ashburn may have thrown the fireball but your downfall was always going to happen sooner or later. It was inevitable. There’s a common saying that I’m sure you familiar with: karma’s a bitch.

Storme: Still bitter, I see.

Zachary: Wouldn’t you be?

Storme: I ended you for a reason, Zach, a good one at that.

Zachary: Oh don’t give me that shit. You just wanted to make a statement.

Storme: You didn’t deserve that paycheque. Not when CGS was on its knees.

Zachary sighs, eyes studying the contours of Storme’s mask.

Zachary: Maybe not, but look at me now. I used to be strong; I used to look chiselled out of stone – like a Greek god. It took me years to achieve that. I could bench press more than anyone in the damn locker room. Now I can barely lift myself out of bed each day. A few years ago I was on top of the world: a World Champion. Nobody remembers that though. My career will be defined by what you did to me. That night you robbed me of my legacy. I was a king among men... now I work a desk job at a fucking gym.

Storme says nothing, his mind racked by guilt as he sees the sadness in the eyes of Zachary.

Storme: I-I’m sorry...

Zachary: It’s the nature of the game; cut-throat - kill or be killed. What are you going to be remembered for? My only advice is for god’s sake, don’t let it be this.

Zachary motions to Storme’s mask-clad face and Steve responds with a single nod. Zachary nods himself as he turns to leave, hobbling out as slowly as he entered and leaving Storme alone with his thoughts again. Fade out.




December 9th, 2010

Fade in. Steve Storme awakes suddenly to the creaking sound of the room’s door. He turns quickly to see a flash of vibrant red hair before this woman disappears into the corridor. Storme tries to leave his bed but due to lying down for so long, his legs aren’t ready for it so he stumbles and falls. When on the ground, he realises that he isn’t wearing his mask – somebody must have removed it. He glances round the room and sees it on his bed-side table, concluding the woman with the red hair must have done it. With a struggle, he pulls himself back onto his bed and tries to think who this woman could be. Fade out.




December 10th, 2010

Fade in. Steve Storme is still in bed, checking through the inbox on his phone with the prosthetic mask across his face. The door opens and a tall figure dressed in black suit slips inside. The man has jet black hair, slicked backwards, and a slight smile on his pale face as he approaches Storme’s bed. The mask-clad wrestler spots a small brown paper package under the man’s arm.

Storme: Who are you?

The stranger chuckles a little, stood with hands clasped together.

???: We have spoken before, Steve – a few years ago.

Storme: Oh?

???: Does Ring of Glory mean anything to you?

Storme: Yeah, I won the championship there a couple times.

???: Indeed. Does the name Dante mean anything to you?

Storme: Vaguely. I think we were on different brands though...

Dante: Correct.

Storme: So, uh, what are you doing here?

Dante: The truth is I’ve been keeping track of you for a while.

Storme: What do you mean by that?

Dante: I haven’t been following you, Steve, I have better things to do.

Storme: I should hope so.

Dante: I’m just interested by you – no – fascinated. I find your whole story to be quite remarkable. I’ve watched your shoots interviews, I’ve read your book, but I wanted to meet you in flesh.

Storme: So what do you want – an autograph or something?

Dante laughs again, shaking his head from side to side.

Dante: No, actually I’ve got something to tell you... but it can wait. First, why don’t you open your Christmas present? I know it’s early but I thought you’d need cheering up.

Storme takes the brown package from Dante and cautiously opens it. Inside is a cellophane bag filled with white powder. Beneath his mask, Storme smiles just a little – for the first time in days.

Storme: Thanks...

Dante: No problem. There’s more of that back at my place.

Storme: You’re a dealer now, huh?

Dante: I share my drugs with friends.

Storme: Oh we’re friends now?

Dante: I don’t see why not. You could do with a friend.

Storme: I have plenty of “friends” already.

Dante: Exactly. “Friends”. How many times has Krash called you since End of Days?

Storme: He hasn’t.

Dante: So like I said, you could do with a friend – especially one that can provide you with your favourite things.

Storme: Usually anybody that wants to be my friend has an ulterior motive. What do you want from me, Dante? A way back into the business?

Dante: No, I just want to hang out. I’ve got a big apartment in Brooklyn that I share with a couple cute girls. Maybe you can come over sometime – I’ve got more than just coke.

Storme: Maybe.

Dante: Until then, why don’t you enjoy your present?

Storme: I’ll wait until you’re gone.

Dante shrugs and then takes a few paces towards the exit.

Dante: Well then I think it’s time I take my leave. I’ll see you around.

Storme nods in response and Dante’s off into the corridor, the door gently closing. Steve takes a few moments to reflect upon that unusual meeting before turning to his present. He tears the cellophane bag open, carefully pours some of the contents onto his bed-side table and then removes his mask. Wanting a quick fix before interrupted, Storme doesn’t bother making lines and just dips his nose straight into the powder. Several big snorts later and he’s sprawled back on his bed, eyes drifting shut.

When they open, Storme is stood in a void of total blackness. Then a single white spotlight flickers on to reveal he’s now clad in the prosthetic mask and wearing a stylish black slim-fit suit.

Storme: I’ve only been back a couple weeks and already I’m starting to miss my hospital bed. Why? Well I only had to put up with one pathetic ignoramus – the doctor. It’s a different story here. Most of you reprobates make me want to punch a wall. Hell, I can barely stand my own tag team partner – but I know he’s got my back. When I was in hospital, Alyster Black called me every single day without fail. Did I want to talk to him? Hell no, I never picked up and I never called him back.

Well, at least not until the night of 1.2. Black had shown his loyalty and so I knew he would be the perfect choice to launch my counter strike with. See, I’m a smart fighter; I know that even someone of my calibre can’t bring down a whole group by himself. Everyone needs an ally, somebody to watch their back – especially when at the top. Once you reach the upper echelon, all the lowlifes want to drag you back down to their level. They say “most young kings get their head cut off” – I’m the exception to the rule.

It’s been over three years now and I’m still ruling with an iron fist. It doesn’t matter who has what belt because I transcend championships. That furry piece of shit can claim to be the best on Bloodsport but ANYONE with sense knows otherwise. I’ve proved my worth time and time again. I’ve beaten everyone in this industry that’s ever been relevant and even more that aren’t. Speaking of irrelevant, me and Black are facing several punks at High Stakes with the chance to be the first CAW Tag Team Champions.

The opponents are weak; I see the fear in their eyes. They may boldly proclaim their superiority but deep down inside, they don’t believe in themselves. They know that they’ve been mismatched against a monster, a force that they’re incapable of conquering. I’m just tired of hearing the same recycled lines from simpletons that shouldn’t be setting up the ring, let alone fighting in it.

The Bloodhounds. What’s the point of this little partnership again? It seems to me like Eric Logan just wants someone to carry his bags and swallow his spunk. Meanwhile Horatio Gates is awestruck because he gets to play water boy to a former CGS World Heavyweight Champion. That’s cool and all but I won that belt FIVE times. So what does that make Logan? One fifth of the man I am? That’s giving that loser too much praise. Regardless, if the drugs don’t kill him then I damn sure will.

The rest of these minnows are all the same. Sure, they may differ in specifics but they all have the common theme of self-entitlement to things they don’t deserve. Be it respect, championships or whatever else massages their over-inflated egos. I resent naming these kids in my promos; I don’t want to give them a single minute of fame – especially when they’ll use it to spew the same bullshit. Will they make good on their promises? There’s more chance of Aesha keeping her legs closed when Dashy comes calling.

The truth is that none of N.M.E.’s opponents deserve to even be in this match. The Bloodhounds failed at the first hurdle, losing to a thrown-together team with no experience whatsoever. So logically, the rest of the tandems in this gauntlet will be more of a challenge despite consisting of has-beens, no-hopers and never-wills. Listen. I don’t take any of you seriously. I don’t view any of you as a threat. Even you Logan, I’m not impressed by your transitional title reigns. You want my respect? Of course you do – I’m the greatest of all-time. So earn it or at least die trying.

Happy New Year, motherfuckers. Just know your days are numbered.

Fade out.

Alyster Black Presents: Ch. IV

Legend
italics = Alyster's thoughts
bold = actions/descriptions
red = Alyster's dialog


The scene opens in the bedroom of Alyster Black where Alyster is sleeping unmasked in his bed, his body is covered by an assortment of blankets and his head is surrounded by soft comfortable pillows. The alarm clock on the bedside table next to the bed reads 7:29 am. When it flips to 7:30 the alarm goes off, playing some soft easygoing music. Alyster smiles to himself and turns over. He extends his arm and plays around with the surface of the alarm for a few seconds before turning it off. Alyster then sits up in his bed, extends his arms and yawns; he is wearing a bright blue pyjama top. The door to Alyster’s bedroom opens and a strange older woman walks through the door.

Woman: Ally honey, good to see that you’re finally awake. Come on now breakfast is ready and the children are eager to open Christmas presents. We can’t start without you.

Alyster: Okay mom, I’ll be out in a sec.

Alyster’s mom: I love you dear.

Alyster: Love you too mom.

Alyster’s mother smiles and backs out of the room, softly closing the door as she goes. Alyster pushes his blankets to the side then swings his legs over the side of the bed. He slips his feet into a pair of slippers then opens the top draw of his bedside table. Inside it is his mask which has been modified for the Christmas season. Instead of Alyster’s usual mask is one depicting a round yellow smiley face with a Christmas hat sowed on. Alyster smiles a big cheesy grin and puts his mask on. He then stands up and stretches a little bit before exiting his room. Alyster walks down a long hallway lined with another 4 rooms (3 bedrooms and a bathroom). Alyster gets to the end of the hall and walks into the dining area where a bunch of strange people are sitting at the table waiting for him so they can eat breakfast.

All of the people: Ally!

Alyster: Merry Christmas everyone.

The three kids sitting at the table (all aged from 5-9) get out of their chairs and charge at Alyster. They all grab him around the waist and hug him tight telling him how much they love their “uncle”. Alyster’s pregnant sister tells the kids to return to their seats. Alyster then sits down at the head of the table, his mother hands him a plate of hot bacon and eggs before sitting down next to the man we can assume is Alyster’s father at the other end of the table. Everyone begins chatting to each other, except for Alyster who feels a strange feeling in the pit of his chest, like he doesn’t belong or that somehow none of this is “right”. Alyster was quick to dismiss these feelings when his brother in law began talking to him.

Manu “Justice” Soldier: Alyster man how excited are you for High Stakes where we will be teaming with each other in a tag team title match against that team None More Evil, Steve Storme and Psycho Dragon?

Alyster: Brother in law, I am very excited for this match. Hopefully we can both win our first titles ever in our wrestling careers.

Manu: And maybe you can get revenge on Steve Storme for defeating you ever so decisively those four times, and calling you a hack and an overly happy idiot.

Alyster: Man that Steve Storme makes me mad. And depressed...I wish I was on the other side of Steve’s aggression...

Manu: Aww you look sad Alyster. You know what will cheer you up? Opening a present. Come on kids why don’t one of you get uncle Alyster one of his presents so he can open it.

At once all three of Alyster’s nieces and nephew leave their seats and charge towards the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. They argue of which present to give to their uncle before deciding on one and bringing it to him. They hand Alyster the present and he opens it. He frowns at the sight of it, a CAW Rivalries Series package which includes a Steve Storme action figure sculpted to depict Storme as the dominate (jerk) hero and Alyster Black, cheaply crafted and only painted in two colours. Included in the pack is a card which has the stats of their last 4 matches against each other, the last of which is highlighted and reads “3.9 seconds.” Alyster then manages to force a smile at his family before blacking out.

The scene opens again in the dead of the night, Alyster is hanging from a noose dead with a suicide note attached to his chest. On the cover reads “Next time someone calls you on your bullshit act on it and strive to improve. Don’t slack off and become the failure that I was”.

Alyster: AHHH! What the fuck?!

Alyster wakes up from his dream and looks at his alarm clock.

5:24 AM

Alyster: Goddamn that was a surreal dream. Fuck...




Note: This was going to be a lot longer and way better than it turned out but I kept putting it off until too late and I have to post it now otherwise I would no-show. Sorry Alex.

A/N: Godamnit, I hate writer’s block. But a semi-good RP is better than no RP. Sorry guys.

----

Our scene opens to the industrial grey backstage hallways of CAW, the hanging fluorescent lights illuminating the hallways, as the camera panned slowly to the left to reveal a red backdrop behind the man known to the wrestling world as Krash. Dressed in black jeans, red sneakers, and a lavender unbuttoned short-sleeve jacket over a basic white T, he nodded once at the camera, grinning.

“Hey, CAW.” He said, and waved at the camera. “Number one contender to the Ultraviolent title, Krash, here giving you a decent promo to spread some sunshine into your otherwise grey lives.” Krash clapped his hands, and the TV screen behind him fizzled to life. “What happens when Sonic the Hedgehog gets drunk one night…”



“… and wakes up next to an equally drunk Pikachu?”



“One of three things, my friends. One: The start of a horrible new sitcom,
Two: The next Lady Gaga fashion choice, or
Three: Sonichu.



“It’s quite horrible, isn’t it?” Krash noted. “Oh yes, it kinda makes me glad I wasn’t a fan of either Sonic or Pokémon. Must’ve been the only person in the world who didn’t like either. I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. Words cannot accurately describe what Sonichu is. The closest thing would be something along the lines of ‘The Mentally-Challenged Offspring of a Sonic/Pikachu One Night Stand, as told by Christian Weston Chandler.’ Zap to the extreme, indeed.”

Krash’s monologue was quite suddenly interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, to the tune of Story Of The Year’s Never Let It Go. Surprised, he looked around for the source of the sound, finally finding his phone in his pocket. He checked the caller ID, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Uh, we’ll have to postphone this promo.” He mumbled, somewhat stunned. “Til next time, I’m Krash, I’ll see you later…” He said, kinda dazed, and the screen promptly cut to black as he answered the call.

Comeback Season: Part 1

When I leave this whole wrestling business I want people to remember me as one of the best Mexican Wrestlers to make it to the big leagues. When the little wrestling nerds go on their forums and make their topics about the best Mexican wrestlers to wrestle in the U.S. I want them to mention my name alongside the names of Eddie Guerrero, Rey Misterio Jr., and Dos Caras.

I don't want people to remember me as some "jobber" who basically was a stepping stone for anyone that wanted to take the next step in their career as a wrestler. I don't want people to remember me as the racist Mexican gang member who couldn't back his shit up when it came down to it. If I retired today I'd be retired for all that shit.

About two weeks ago, as I was sitting in my apartment (yea I said apartment because working for CAW thats all I can afford) thinking about why I got jumped by my own Latin King brothers and about what the one who pulled the gun on me said, I started to realize that everything he said was completely on point. I deserved to get my ass beat and get set up because as a Latin King member I was slipping and was breaking all the rules that I learned before I became an official member.

I need to get back to my roots like I said before and need to start over and work my way back up to being the man I used to be before I got into all of this wrestling shit.

I need to find Andrés Cesar Pineda and I cant find him here in New York. I'm going back to Chicago.

___________________________________________________________________

The scene opens with Cesar Pineda sitting in a Black Four Door 2008 F150 Truck looking out the window towards a cold lonely cemetery filled with tombstones and crypts. Pineda looks and sees a woman sitting at a grave crying and smiling as she moves her hands around the name engraving. He sits and thinks about what that woman must be filling, sitting at the grave of someone who she lost most likely to soon considering the City that their in.

Pineda's thoughts are interrupted by the "coo" coming from the back seat of the F150. He looks back and smiles at a baby boy, who resembles a younger him, and opens his door before opening the back door to the truck and picking up the little boy from out of the car seat and standing out in the cold brisk air of Chicago.

Pineda wears an all black button down shirt tucked into some all black chinos pants, and Armani eXchange belt on with a black fleece jacket over it. Pineda locks the trucks doors and carries the little boy up a hill walking past numerous tombstones with flowers on them and covered in fresh dirt. Pineda reaches in his pocket and puts on a pair of Armani Sunglasses as he continues to carry the little boy past the graves until they arrive at a grave with a tombstone with Antonio D Pineda 1962-2000, father, brother, Inca. AMLKN engraved into it.

Cesar sits down and places the little boy in his lap as he traces the name written on the grave with his fingers. The baby boy sits in his lap and looks around smiling not knowing were he is. Cesar looks down at the baby boy and smiles before giving him a kiss on his head.

Cesar- It's starting to seem like the only time that I come and see you is when something bad happens to me or I get to place in my life were I can't talk to anybody else but you. I think it's funny that I come to talk to you even though your not here with us anymore. *Pineda crosses himself*

Shit hasn't been right since they took you away from us, especially for me. I've developed a little bit of a habit over the past couple of years of taking anti-depressants to help me deal with shit that goes on my life. I know you wouldn't have wanted me to start using all this shit but I've never really listened to everything you've told me not to do even though I should have. I mean I joined the Latin Kings even though you told me, Ivan, and Marcos not to. *Pineda laughs a little bit to him self before continuing*

So ummm.... yea I'm still doing this wrestling shit and now I work for this little company called Combat Arts and Wrestling. I don't make shit working for the company but the atmosphere backstage is good and I don't have to deal with any of the political bull shit that I deal with in Takedown. Oh yea I signed a little contract extension with Takedown even though the last time I talked to you, I told you I was done.

But anyways, in CAW I'm gona be fighting at the next Pay-Per-View called High Stakes for a shot at Pure Wrestling Championship. I face this clown Butcha Yafi and this no body that calls himself "Manu Soldier". Usually before a pay-per-view I'm nervous as hell thinking about am I gona win am I gona lose. What's the weakness of my opponents and all that bull shit but for this pay-per-view I don't feel like that. I'm calm as hell going into this one not caring if I win or lose you know? It could be these anti-depressants I'm taking though I'm not sure.

Your probably wondering who this little guy is here sitting in my lap. This is your grandson Christiano. We call him Chris for short though and yea he's mine. He's about 9 months now and is probably the only thing that I can honestly say that I'm proud I did. I made a kid but it came with some consequences as usual because his mom is my boy Eric's younger sister Carmen. We've been messing around for a while and when I found out that I got her pregnant I was excited and scared at the same time because for one I'm only 23 im not ready for a kid and I didn't know what this was gona do to me and Eric's friendship.

If I heard that my best friend was secretly fucking my sister and still fucking other girls I would be ready to kill him. I don't know how I'm gona tell him because I still haven't told ma or Marcos. The only person who knows is Ivan and he keeps pressuring me to tell everybody but I aint ready. I don't know when I'll be ready but when I am I'll face all of the consequences that come with it.

Pops I'm asking you to be with me for real at High Stakes because I'm going to need you there with me to make it through all of this shit. I love you man and I'll be back to talk to you soon.

Pineda kisses his index and middle finger and touches the grave before standing up with his soon and walking away as the scene fades to black.

Sonichu in CAW Special Issue: A Clockwork CWCville Part 1

Night: The road to CWCville

A car could be seen racing down the road, roaring past anybody unfortunate enough to come across it. It rammed past cars, sending them careening off into the gutters, and caused plenty of chaos. Driving it was a man in white, wearing a black bowl hat and a sun-like tattoo around his right eye. His buddies, dressed in the same anarchic fashion, were roaring in carnivorous delight, howling over each car or citizen that was injured. The driver stared directly at what was in front of him, a dystopia city much like the streets he had walked around in... CWCville.

???'s Narration
"It was a flip dark chill winter that made you shiver in your boots, that is I, Alex, and my three droogs. We were off to do the evening in a little of the old, ultra-violence on a town called, CWCville, as in 'Quickville'. It gave us all a good feeling in our guttywuts to tolchock some malchicks, and some fellow malchicks offered us some grand money to bash in a certain chelloveck, called 'Christian Weston Chandler' along with his strange furry friend, 'Sonichu'. But oh my brothers, even I felt what they called a gut feeling about this, like there was something about to skivvy into your boots. Little did we young malchicks know that we were going into the night of our lives...."

The car raced forth, right into the town....

Night: CWCville

The streets were full of the latest Sony LCD TVs broadcasting the likes of CAW (mainly cut up CAW tapes so it only glamorized Sonichu) and the mayor's egocentric rants, with all the humans and Sonichus watching like mindless drones. The mindless public watched in awe as the fat, raving-mad manchild known as Christian Weston Chandler bounced around his office like a retarded kangaroo on crack while wearing an abomination of a blue Sonichu costume. What classified as 'so-bad-it's-good' entertainment to internet trolls was a hypnotic masterpiece to the brainwashed masses of CWCville. If they were to ever think for themselves... would they reject CWC and Sonichu, or continue worshipping the moron?

It was like they needed a revolution. A new leader. But for now, they watched the manchild's latest antic, revolving around Sonichu's next match, an important title defense against a CAW wrestler. It was a very special occasion in CWCville, as the defender of justice and the Father's greatest creation, Sonichu, would battle it out with a man known only as Krash. So CWC, in all his wisdom, decided to start ranting about Krash, putting all the attention on him instead. Because, you know, that's how everything's done!

The poor PSEye filmed Chris shouting at the camera now, his greasy face filling the entire frame.

CWC
"So you see, Krash should juss go... crash into a tree or something, because that's all he can do. He is nothing compared to my Sonichu, and he is also a liar and a phony who's tryin to take CWCville's reputation. And you know who does that to our glorious town? That's right, the trolls. The trolls with their pickles, and their niggo friends who I think should all be thrown into CWCville jail for trying to ruin our fine establishment... because they are not STRAIGHT!"

Quick as lightning (no pun intended) CWC already burst into rage, screaming at the camera in front of him.

CWC
"THOSE GODDAMN TROLLS, GETTING INTO THAT CDW-CAW AND CALLING THE SHOTS AGAINST SONICHU! KRASH KNOWS CLYDE CASH! HE AND HIS AGENDA AGAINST SONICHU AND ALL THAT IS TRUE AND HONEST MAKES ME WANNA... GRRRRRRRAAAAAGH!"

He screamed right at the camera, a true case of tard rage. Sonichu quickly raced to his side, looking rather apologetic with the Ultraviolent title belt around his shoulder.

Sonichu
"Father, is there something wrong? Did those slanderous trolls hurt you again?"

CWC
"Krash is a troll! He is a liar and a cheat, and I want to strangle him! UUUUURRRRGH!"

Sonichu panicked, and quickly ran around CWC's room, setting up the PS3 and handing him the controller.

Sonichu
"Here Father, here's the PS3! Those trolls won't get you there!"

Meanwhile, as CWC screamed, Alex and his droogs had already infiltrated the CWCville hall. Allison Amber, the secretary, thought she saw some white-clad young men, but decided to ignore it... hopefully they were trolls who managed to sneak into the manchild's mayor hall and piss him off big time. That was always fun to watch.

As Alex approached, the young lad thought he heard something akin to a child screaming. His eyebrow raised, and he knocked on the door. Sonichu went to get the door, and Alex's eyes widened slightly at seeing some yellow hedgehog with the tail of a mousey creature he remembered from some children's computer game.

Dim
"Hey, who the fu-"

Alex quickly whacked him on the kneecap with his stick, then glanced at Sonichu.

Alex
"There's been an accident, my brother, and we need to use the telephone, quick! It's an emergency!"

Sonichu looked convinced, but CWC, too lazy to get the telephone, said without looking from the PS3....

CWC
"Well maybe you should go find another phone? I am rather busy at the moment."

The three droogs looked at each other, confused. Was this guy aware of their tricks, or at least wasn't trustworthy? However. Alex knew full well that he was busy doing something else, and in fact was quite a fool.

Alex's Narration
"As I looked at the fat little man sat down on his chair, dilly-dalling with his computer games, I realized that this was not an ordinary chelloveck. Was he the famed 'Christian Weston Chandler' that these malchicks wanted me to kick in? Well, it was a chance at the old ultra-violence, so why not? Besides, there was nothing more but him and his silly TV images, so I decided to put a stop to this."

Alex
"Well, my brother, this isn't going to solve itself!"

He and the other droogs rushed through the door, cackling menacingly as they put their masks on and get ready for some fun. They pushed through the door, and started to trash the mayor's office, crackling in delight. Yet, CWC didn't seem to notice, or to even care since he had his PS3. Sonichu cowered in fear as the masked young men wrecked havoc and laughed.

Sonichu
"Ah, Father! A crazy guy in white is attacking us, we have to call the Chaotic Combo!"

CWC
"Would you be quiet, I am working on it!"

Suddenly, Alex kicked in the PS3, then Pete and George grabbed Chris and forced him down on the ground. Alex then took out two pickles, leading to CWC's face grimacing in horror and rage, juggled them in the air and began to ab-lid a song, famous to anyone who has a taste in culture other than being spoon-fed it from TV and video games. He raised one pickle, and he shoved it in Sonichu's mouth, forcing him to keep it in when he tried to spit it out while he danced around on his cane. Hell, it was a more entertaining sight then watching Chris do it.

Alex
"I'm singin' in the rain~"

He then kicked CWC in the gut, then put the pickle in his mouth, causing CWC to froth with rage. Sonichu moaned 'Father!' underneath the other pickle.

just singin' in the rain~"

Alex's leg then kicked CWC again, but all CWC was rage harder.

CWC
"You slanderous troll! Leave me and mah Sonichu alone!"

The others holding Sonichu also took turns in punching Sonichu in the gut, along with Alex as he tormented the autistic manchild. However, considering it was Chris, maybe Alex was doing something special anyways.

Alex
"What a glorious feelin'~"

Alex kicked CWC in the gut again, leading to another 'TROLL!' outburst. Alex moved over to Sonichu and drew out a knife, and Chris's eyes widened as Sonichu struggled underneath the duct tape.

"I'm happy again~ I'm laughin' at clouds~ so dark above~"

And now, the true hero emerged; Alex started to cut open Sonichu's costume, but before he could, Alex stopped, coming up with a better idea. Sonichu kicked at Alex, but the droog holding him down held him up so Alex could troll him some more. Alex then punched Sonichu in the gut... if he had become a pro wrestler, he probably would have solo'ed the entire CAW locker room.

"The sun's in my heart, and I'm ready for love, let the stormy clouds chase, everyone from the place."

Alex then used his knife to cut out the Sonichu Medallion from CWC's neck, and took out a lighter. Sonichu began to scream in horror and he started to kick out, but the droogs turned to ambush him violently, being the heroes they were. CWC looked rather horrified too, and looked to be almost pleading with Alex.

CWC
"Please, don't be such a meanie, I'm begging yo-"

Alex
"Come on with the rain~ I've a smile on my face~ I walk down the lane~ with a happy refrain~ Just singin',~ Singin' in the rain~"

Alex quickly kicked CWC in the gut again, and flicked his thumb against the lighter, lighting it. He then set the lit end on the clay medallion, and the flames spread as Alex grinned behind his mask. The righteous flames of troll justice licked at the medallion, crushing all of CWC's hopes and dreams for CWCville... the symbol of his power was disappearing before his eyes, engulfed in yellow evil. He was convinced fire was the troll's work.

Alex
"Viddy well my brother, viddy well."

As the medallion turned to ashes, CWC gritted his fangs, then Alex whacked him over the head with his staff. Then, Alex grinned to himself as he thought something up.

"This john was the mayor of this dump, right boys? We should just take over and treat the young malchicks and such to a good old horrorshow, right lads?"

The droogs agreed, and as they started to clear up and start spreading their influence on CWCville, the droogs threw CWC into CWCville Jail, where he would be ambushed by a bunch of niggos.

[Morning: CAW Locker Room]

After Alex and his droogs had dealt with the autistic manchild and his creepy mutant hedgehog creation, Sonichu had been sat on his chair for the last few hours, traumatized by what had happened. He stared at the floor, then at his belt, knowing that at home, his father was suffering in the hands of that troll.

Sonichu
"I failed Father... why didn't I use my zappin' powers to defeat that slanderous troll? He must have been hired by Mary Lee Walsh... but still, we would have been spared from the pickles... but I do know one cool and groovy thing. If I defeat them, I could defeat Alex and return CWCville to the way it was! If I don't then... Father... I swear... I will not go down... not before I ZAP TO THE EXTREME!!!"

After his match, what will Sonichu do next? Will he go back to CWCville in order to save it from Alex DeLarge, or will he slip and let CWCville become... A Clockwork CWCville?

PART ONE, END

(Sorry for the rush job, had things come up)

And we're done. Thanks to all who RPed or let me know they wouldn't be RPing (Kayla and Cool Smark). It's disappointing to see the others produce nothing though - especially for title matches. Don't expect to get another one handed to you as easily as this one was...