Hey Im Jordan

AWE: American Wrestling Entertainment

Mordecai

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^{6’2” - 250lbs | 3 years}

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|Birthname |
» Benjamin Graham Kennedy

|Hails From |
» Houston, Texas (billed from Death Valley)
» December 15th, 1993 (25)

|Fighting Style |
» Brutal. Mordecai his with devastating moves that look violent and real. He isn’t here to win matches and he isn't afraid to lose matches via disqualification or to win them via referee stoppage. There is no true method to his madness. He works stiff and hard. Is he the best ring worker to ever grace the AWE?

No, but he’s 25. Give it time.

|Signature Moves |
» Slingblade
» Irish Curse
» Executioner’s Calling
» End of Days

|Finisher |
» Godfell
» Excalibur

|Theme |
» King’s Herald

|Gimmick |
» After a few different gimmicks, floundering even in developmental, Benjamin approached the head of talent developmental, the same man who had hired him with an idea for a character: Mordecai. A supernatural gimmick, the character has a certain feel to him that hasn’t been around in proper force since the Ghost Ryder and the Faceless themselves roamed the hallowed halls.

Mordecai claims that he has come to help those fans who have become blind to the truth, that through his work in the ring, he will guide them to the light. His promos are mystical and almost rambly in nature, but he speaks the truth and no one questions.

Mordecai promises, again and again, that he will bring balance back to the AWE, and that he will banish the fallen gods who once claimed they were all powerful — for now, it is he that holds all the cards.

Hail to the king.

Though she sometimes stays back, Mordecai is often accompanied to the ring by his queen and his wife, Amore. Her character is that a brainwashed woman, one who bought into the cult of personality that is Mordecai, perhaps unwillingly at first — but Stockholm Syndrome… is a sunovabitch.

|Face or Heel |
» Heel

|Backstage Rep |
» A lifelong fan of the AWE, for the last three years, Benjamin Kennedy has been living his dream. He’d always wanted to be a wrestler wrestling anywhere. The fact that he’s wrestling in the AWE is just mindblowing, and not a day goes by where he doesn’t wake up and smile about it.

Almost four years ago now, took him every last cent in his meager bank account to transport him from his home in Houston, Texas to Orlando, Florida for tryouts at the AWE Performance Center, where all the talent was developed and trained. While he wasn’t very experienced, wasn’t the most fit and ripped person at the tryouts… Benjamin had the it factor, the elusive charisma that made Heath Ryder decide to take the leap of faith with him.

Was it worth it? The honest answer is no, not yet. While Ben has proven to be a sponge for knowledge and has worked with everyone that goes through developmental… he seems to flounder, and it wasn’t until this past six months that he started hitting his stride, with the Mordecai character.

He’s set to be called up very soon alongside his wife.

Very nervous.

But very, very excited.

|Other |
» 818487
» Tom Hardy
» Notably met his wife during his second year of developmental. Against the wishes of both of their families, they were wed just under seven months after meeting in Vegas, overnight, without telling anyone. It was not a fun day when their parents found out. So far, so good.

Ben has been quoted as describing their relation as a ‘passionate whirlwind.’

To his friends, he tells the truth: they had crazy sex in the performance center less than two hours after first laying eyes on each other, and it was true love — not at first sight, but at first feel.

CLOSED (Formally Aces High)

@mskennedy615We most certainly are still accepting! However, one of the GM team is currently in the process of moving. When she returns sometime in this upcoming week, we'll look over the sheet for you!

AWE: American Wrestling Entertainment

^{Collab with: @Silver Carrot @BrutalBx}

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Sometime before Shock N AWE Sacramento...

The booking lads of the AWE always seemed to take the place over whenever they went to a hotel room. The bed was moved out of their way, and a whiteboard was hung on the wall, scribbled on by all three whenever they had a thought to add. Notepads and binders were strewn about the mattress, containing all their notes and plans for every member of the roster.

The coffee table was covered in empty pizza boxes. and empty cans of Red Bull. As far as the team was concerned, this was the sign of a night that went well. The hotel room they were in now was just a quickly converted ‘office,’ and as soon as they were truly done for the night, they’d disperse off to their own rooms.

There was one piece of pizza left, and Kevin wanted it. After all, he’d paid this time. Leaning forward, the head of the writing team picked up the final slice of pizza (meat lover’s, of course). He chomped down on it in the silence of the room, the first bout of silence they’d had all night. As Kevin chewed on the pizza, the group maintained their quiet composure, and when he took the last bite, and swallowed down the last chunk of crust, Kevin looked up at the ceiling and finally spoke.

“Dude this guy is like impossible to find. I don’t know how he managed to be at the arena the whole fucking time and we didn’t see him ONCE. Caiden Winters is a goddamn master of espionage. So here’s the plan: we’re going to each get to the arena for next week’s Shock N AWE, like a few hours early, and camp out at the entrances. He doesn’t get in, without one of us catching him. Got it? JP, that means you can’t go hunting for Morgana so you can stare at her. This is important! The dude is legit getting upset because he thinks we don’t have any direction for him… Because he’s never around for us to tell him the plan!”

Gary nodded, a can of iced espresso in the caffeine fiend’s hand, but then a thought came to him. "Wait, how much earlier?” he asked.

"I don’t go actively looking for her!” JP protested before downing the last red bull and throwing it with Michael Jordan-esc precision into the trash. “If I just so happen to find her and look at her longingly and with love I can’t exactly help that can I? The heart wants what the heart wants...oh someone write that shit down, we could use that for any future romance angles...where’s my damn pen?!” Leaning back, he almost took a tumble trying to find his lost pen. Grabbing it from the floor, he quickly scribbled in his notepad before looking at the other two. "What were we talking about?...oh right yeah, sure I agree. Get Caiden before he gets in the building. I’m on board with that.”

“Focus, JP, FOCUS. Gary, I’m talkin’ like at least two hours before the show starts. It’s important we talk to him before we relive the Twitter incident of last year, followed by the Caiden and Roddy screaming match. Look, Caiden’s great, but we gotta help him realize that he’s not gonna get wasted by us… the last writing squad really fucked him.” Kevin explained, looking between both of his friends, “this is do or die, lads.”

"Sure, Two hours is fine. So when we meet him, do we all meet up, or does whoever meet him explain the plan? I feel like it should be the former," Gary mused, finishing his coffee and grabbing another red bull.

JP moved forward on the bed, scribbling a couple of more notes. "We get it, Kev. We don’t do this we lose Caiden back to Japan. I’m calling it, the book for Caiden Winters is closed and locked. We have a plan for him, we stick with it, we give this bubba a world title and the Wrestling Journal calls us mother chucking geniuses and the heroes of the new era of pro wrestling.” Glancing at his watch, the adorkable one decided to close up his notes and start grabbing up all of his stuff. "Right, we should get going. Early start tomorrow if we’re going to beat CW to the arena.”

“And maybe, JUST MAYBE, Danny Church will stop demanding we burn at the stake. Alright, I will see you guys at the arena. In the morning.” Kevin pushed his chair back away from the table, and stood up. Heading toward the door, he added. “hey, if this works, I’ll have Claire put in a good word with Morgana for you, JP. Get it in, brother.” Kevin winked at his friend, but was out the door too fast for JP to reply.

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The next day, at the Golden 1 Center...

Caiden Everett was surrounded by three people who were out of their goddamn minds. Who taught these men to speak like this? Did they know how to take turns? From what he’d gathered from their rambling, they actually had a plan for him, which was surprising to begin with… even more surprising? He was going fucking over. That was the only thing he’d gotten out of them, but no clarity.

Because they didn’t talk one at a time.

“SHUT UP. One at time! Go in a circle, fucking hell. How am I supposed to understand what you’re saying if you guys talk over each other endlessly!? Christ, it’s like talking to a bunch of children.”

JP leaned back in his chair and threw the empty breakfast bar wrapper into the nearby trash can before returning his attention to the mega star that sat opposite him and his good brothers. Swallowing down the last of his mid day snack, he began. "We get it, Caiden, you’re pissed because you think we haven’t been doing anything with you. Did you not hesitate to think maybe that was by design? A ploy by us to get you good and mad?” The adorkable one glanced over at his colleagues before carrying on. "I’ll put it bluntly; we have a plan for you my friend, a damn good one if I do say so myself. You are going over, CW. Not only that, by the end of this, you’re gonna be champ and you’re gonna have the best match in AWE history.”

"Of course, we could have told you this a lot earlier if you hadn’t gone into hiding since two weeks ago…” muttered Gary, who was stationed besides the door because Caiden admittedly made him nervous.

“Look, man. You drive things with your emotions, right? Well, we want this to be as real as possible. So channel how you felt about the company up till this point into your promos, your ring work. Make it seem real. Be passionate. That segment with Joy on Aftershock? That’s what we want. Don’t worry about what goes on outside of the company, we’ll handle blurring the lines as far as everything in the real world goes. People need to get worked by this — and they will. By the end of it, they’ll be wondering… is he really going to leave with the title? Did he go into business for himself? Gonna be great. Now, for the love of God… please don’t avoid us in the future, man.” Kevin suggested, dropping back the rest of a can of Red Bull as Caiden leaned back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling, lips slowly curling into a smile.

“Alright. Let’s see what I can do here. You’re giving me the opportunity I’ve been waiting my whole tenure here for, and I’d be stupid if I didn’t grab what’s being laid out for me, and made the most of it. I give you my word, this will be the best angle in the history of professional wrestling, not just the AWE.”

“Cheers.”

CLOSED (Formally Aces High)

^{Collab with: @Lovely Complex}

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Location: Death Road → Death Camp
Interacting with: Crazy Bitch (Molly & Company)
^{Jace is involved since he's with Angel: @Silent Observer}

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While his older twin brother by fifteen minutes drove his Chevy Tahoe, Trent Kable, who would die if he ever did get his license, had his earbuds in and eyes closed, listening to Jailhouse Rock by Elvis Presley, avoiding listening to whatever godforsaken heart attack music his brother was blasting. He bobbed his head to the tune and shaked his hands to the King of Rock’s groove. He had to get his pre-jitters out, so listening to good, ol’ classics would help him prepare to go to camp and make friends, for his mama’s sake. He hadn’t paid much attention to how much time had passed from when they started in Las Vegas, to their destination, somewhere in Southern California. They had to take a few stops because Trent got antsy… long car rides was A LOT for him to deal with.

As if he was the only person in the car, and not really caring if he was disturbing his brother’s peace because Trent-boy had a short attention span and wouldn’t have remembered to be peaceful anyways, he started singing along with his music that only he could hear.

“Number forty-seven said to number three
‘You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see’
sure would be delighted with your company
Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me~"

His iPod was on his lap and the boy didn’t think about anything besides Presley’s words. Any more thinking would make him NERVOUS. Hey, at least he looked hella’ dapper with his male colorful print design blouse, black jeans, and white bowtie. Dressed to impress like his sister taught him. Always got to impress someone and the first step was: make your body look good. Yepp. He was ready for camp and to make the ladies and men swoon with his smooth talk and killer looks. Can’t touch this! Trent was a ROCKSTAR.

That motherfucker.

That fucking prick.

Singing? Seriously? Who raised this kid? Were they autistic? What the fuck was he singing for? Evan Kable — who would only accept being called Kable — shot his brother a glare as he started to sing, hoping that would be enough to shut him the fuck up. When that failed, Kable did the only sensible thing. Punching on the touch screen of his SUV’s stereo, once he located his song, his finger turned the dial again and again until the car nearly shook on the road… then he turned it a few more clicks.

Sing now, bitch. Kable was certain that his brother wouldn’t even be able to hear his iPod’s music over the car stereo now. Kable was willing to drive in silence and brood, but Trent wanted to start shit. Well, that’s fine, Trent may like starting shit; Kable wasn’t a big fan of starting it… but he’d sure as fuck end it.

Aggressively, Trent pulled out his earbuds and leaned back in his chair. The fuck? Why is this so loud? Trying to overpower the music with his voice, which was hella’ hard, mind you, Trent gave his brother a dirty look, “YOU TRYING TO POP MY EAR DRUMS OR SUMTHIN?” Man, he’d have to dig into his backpack and find his earplugs. This was some straight up bull. If mama knew Kable was blasting music obnoxiously, she would have a conniption. This could KILL Trent. He would surely have a panic attack. Have no fear, he would do something that would help him focus on something else. The dorky kid rummaged through his bag in frustration. “WHY YOU GOTTA’ BE SO RUDE?”

Kable looked away from the road and directly in Trent’s eyes, wordlessly raising a hand off of the the wheel and giving his brother the finger. “GO HARD.” With that being said, Kable turned his attention back to the road and pressed the button to shut the stereo off in one fluid motion. “Don’t you ever sing within earshot of me ever again or I swear to god I’ll drive us into oncoming traffic. I got nothin’ to lose and even less to gain. Thanks for dragging me to bumfuck, California, asshole.”

“Hey! It isn’t my fault. I would’ve been happy staying at home with Sir Lancelot, but mum kept dropping these flyers under my door and then I thought, hey, maybe this could be a good experience for me. Think of this as a summer… a summer for love!” Taking out his drawing pad and his funky mustache pencil, he turned it over to the back page, which had a list. Do not sing or Kable will kill you.

“Yeah, I was gonna have a summer all about ‘love’ until Mom stabbed me in the back and used the knife to pop out the vertebrae. I have never been less excited for anything in my life.” He grumbled, glancing quickly down at the navigator. “We’ll be there in like twelve minutes apparently. Then we stay there. For ten. Fucking. Weeks. Ten weeks of my time. Stolen from me and repurposed so I can make sure no one hurts Mom’s precious little sunflower. So here I am. When I could be at Sonya’s place, with her coworkers doing things you don’t even know are physically possible. So thanks a ton.”

“Sonya’s friends… are a bit much.” Trent squinted his face at the thought of how intimidatingly sexual they all wore. Most weren’t even classy. Why didn’t his sister wear much clothes? HE DID NOT UNDERSTAND. “I think you’ll have a swell time, dear brother.”

“Bullshit. I think I’ll drown myself in the lake. Whatever man.” Kable shrugged his shoulders and rolled down the windows, letting the warm Californian wind into the vehicle as he turned down the road toward the camp, and in the distant horizon, he could see hell itself. “This is where they send you, to die. Under the Geneva convention, internment and death camps are a war crime. Just saying.”

His twin was not making this trip easy for him. Trent went silent after that comment. He didn’t want to think about death at camp… his mum wanted him to make friends. Bringing the sun visor down so he could look into the mirror to give himself one look check. His bow tie was crooked…

Straightening his tie, Trent locked eyes with himself and internally thought, You got this, chap. Be cool and everything will go swimmingly.

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The Kable brothers arrived right on the dot and within seconds the Tahoe was parked in the dirt parking lot, designated for those that drove - like them. It wasn’t hard to notice the bus or the crowd beyond that. The geekier of the two was the first to exit and grab his duffel bag, backpack, and bag of miscellaneous goodies, “I hope I brought enough…” Leading the charge, but not straying too far from Kable, who honestly made him feel secure in this unknown place, Trent’s gaze went wide as the people inched closer with every step he took. He should turn back. They should go back. Oh god, he was going to die. Wasn’t he? THEY MUST GO BACK.

Yeah, piss off. LIke Kable was going to drive that far, for that long and just willingly let Trent turn them around. No, you brought this hell upon them, you dug our graves, dear brother. Now you lay on it. Without a word, Kable put a hand on Trenton’s neck and pushed him forward slightly. He didn’t need to speak; actions, like always, spoke much louder than plain words.

Stiffening at his brother’s touch, the socially awkward boy obediently trekked forward. When they joined the crowd, he frantically looked from side to side at all the people. So many people. There was this intimidatingly attractive woman calling out names and handing out envelopes. His mind however was flooded with the new faces around him and the chitter chatter. Tightly closing his fists together out of nervousness, he internally tried to build his confidence up to handle all… this.

Be cool, Trent.

As soon as their names were called, Kable stepped forward to receive the envelopes and held his brother’s out to him. Ripping open the envelope, Kable pulled out a King of Diamonds, and a piece of paper that declared him as a member of the cabin. Looking over at his brother, he furrowed his brow, “what’d you get?” He demanded, wanting to make sure that he and Trent were not in the same cabin, or even the same area.

_{“Jack...Diamonds.”} Trent whispered, knowing very well his twin would not appreciate that response. Eh-hem.

Meanwhile at another section of the newcomers, Oliver stared glumly at his card — which did not match his girlfriend’s. “Bummer, I got da King o’ Diamonds. I don’t wanna be separate from you, that will make this trip suck.” Oliver complained in Molly’s direction, stuffing the card into his pocket. He didn’t bother looking at the Meet the Counselors section… what was the point when you already knew everyone?! Hopefully, he got someone good, though.

“OLIVER.” Molly was appalled by the results of her rooming assignment. WASN’T ASH HIS COUSIN? Did he not think to request putting them TOGETHER? Un-fucking-believable. “Spades? Do I look like a SPADES? Spades probably just has a bunch of EMOS and metalheads.”

Angel narrowed his eyes at Molly and gestured at his card that read the same exact thing that her’s said: Jack of Spades. “Do I look like a emo? OR a metalhead? And frankly, I don’t see a problem if that suit is filled with kids interested in those types of music.”

“Angel, you do wear a shit ton of black.” Molly crossed her arms and stared at the taller boy in a superior manner, “Plus, aren’t you even a little sad you won’t be in Diamonds with your puppy?”

“Please don’t call him that.”

“I agree with Molly, based solely on appearances, I could peg you as an emo,” Oliver said honestly, not even just agreeing with his girlfriend to agree. He was oddly pleased when Angel asked Molly not to call Jace a ‘puppy.’ That nickname made no sense and only made him think of that stupid Snapchat filter. “ANYWAY —”

“Just throwing in my two cents real quick, definitely an emo looking dude.” Alex added quickly, before grinning as Oliver shook his head and started speaking again.

“Scott and Logan told me to play the cards I get dealt, so I’m playing the cards I was dealt! It won’t be that bad, Mols.”

“Are you INSANE? STUPID? This is TEN weeks of us being on totally different areas of the camp. Look at this map.” Molly was one of the few, very few, campers that requested getting a map (she got her’s from Belle). “OLIVER.” She hissed in annoyance. “If you did your research or even prepared just a little bit, you would know how BAD our situation is.” Aggressively, she pointed at where she would be staying and then trailed her finger down the map to where he was staying. “At least Summer and Alex are the same freakin’ suit. This looks like a goddamn hike.”

“Because it is.” Summer chimed in. 25 minutes by foot, but if she wasn’t mistaken there were golf carts… though, not many. They could potentially snag one. Luckily, Alexander the Great had a plan to render golf-cart grand theft auto unnecessary — for now.

“Mols, go get that dude’s card. Look, he’s also a King of Diamonds, and he looks pretty pissed about it.” Alex said, pointing over at a tall looking fellow who had recently flicked his card in Ash’s direction and looked ready to stomp off and leave into the wilderness. “Dude throwin’ cards like Gambit. I can do that. Maybe. Probably. My brother can do that, I can’t, but he can. He gonna teach me. Then I can do that.”

“Brilliant, Alexander. Thank you for your glorious ideas. At least SOMEONE has them.” She swiftly turned her head toward her boyfriend and gave him a sassy glare, “Oliver.” And with that, the darling brunette flipped her hair and marched off, loudly demanding, “Angel. You too.”

Oh.

The ‘emo-looking’ jock shrugged at the princess’ request and followed behind her, pulling his boyfriend with him. Angel wasn’t going to let him go just yet.

“‘Cuse me. Hi--”

“This is Kable, I’m Trent! We’re brothers. Well his name isn’t actually Kable, that’s our surname, but I suppose that doesn’t really matter, because he prefers being called… Kable.” Trent noticed attractive campers approach them and went off rambling.

“Uh-huh, yeah. Okay. Thanks.” With dull eyes, Molly blinked at the geeky boy and then looked back at her target.

Kable spoke before she could even get a word off, “the fuck you want, bitch? I look I’m in the mood to talk to someone right now? Do I?” He did not.

Internally, Molly was extremely triggered and if she didn’t WANT what he had, a.k.a his rooming assignment, she would have bitched him out right then and there. Giving him her calm, regal smile, Molly lifted her assignment up, which was in between her pointer and middle finger, “I want your rooming assignment.” Straight to the fucking point. “I see you’re in Diamonds, I want to be in Diamonds. This is my friend, Angelo, he’s in Spades, as am I. If we trade, he would be your roommate. Along with this hot Asian chick that I so happened to remember getting this here cabin.” She waved the card slightly. “Let’s trade or forever be angry at the entire world and set this camp on fire.”

”What? Why do you want to switch? And why would this dude being in there make it any more appealing to me, anyway?” Kable folded his arms over his chest. Why would he just change his room like that? Maybe fucking with Trent all summer would be fun. Hot Asian chick? That intrigued him, though.

Angel could feel Molly’s response coming, but he learned that when it came to a girl like her, you had to talk before she did or you’d be given the worst headache of your lifetime, “Probably because I don’t really give a fuck about… anything, besides this guy.” He gestured toward Jace and continued, “Her man will be in that exact cabin. And you’d be doing me a solid by getting her out of there.”

Trent looked over Jace’s shoulder and noticed they were in the same cabin, “Sweet! Looks like we’re roomies.”

“It’s not just because Oliver is there!” Molly protested.

”Oh. Whatever, man, take it.” Kable said, shrugging finally. He didn’t want to be with Trent anyway, so whatever. If it meant giving his card away to some crazy chick… then that’s what it meant. Plus, she wouldn’t be his problem anyway.

“Now time to tell Oliver I did all the work for him.” Molly rolled her eyes, after snatching the card off the ground, this guy was a fucking asshole, and pranced off to her boyfriend. Angel gave a sigh of relief. How Oliver did it…. he had no idea.

AWE: American Wrestling Entertainment

^{Collab with @Lovely Complex
Ft. Joy Ryder, Justice Marshall, Claire Gilmore, Chance Ryder, & Roddy Quinn}

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Segment 3

“Okay, so you were in the hot tub with him, and you were drunk… then what happened? Surely, something happened, right? You don’t do something like that and just have nothing happen!” Justice turned to face her best friend as they sat next to each other in the makeup department, getting dolled up for the night. “Don’t tell me that the man you’ve been lusting after for your whole tenure here hasn’t put it in you yet! What’s the point of living life if Caiden Winters isn’t gonna show you the glorious pleasure of being cummed inside? Come onnnnn, Joy!”

Straightening Joy’s hair from behind, making sure there were no flyaways, Claire looked between Justice and Joy through the mirror. Oh my goodness. She had to hear about this. And as every girl already knew, she was all about confidentiality.

Oh, Joy. Did you? Did you sleep with Caiden Winters yet? SOUND THE ALARMS IF YOU DID.

Ms. Ryder didn’t like the attention on her, especially in regards to a male that she may have been highly sexually attracted to, even if she wasn’t going to outright admit it. Joy would deny it until it was true! Rolling her eyes at her best friend, letting one of Claire’s underlings put lipgloss on her, Joy directed her words toward Justice even if she couldn’t turn her head, “Justy…” Her friend could be such a vulgar woman sometimes. “I fell asleep.” Shrugging to herself, the interviewee admitted with hardly any care. Not even embarrassed. This would be the second time, in a row, she fell asleep with him next to her. This caused Claire’s expression to drop.

SHE FELL ASLEEP?! Her chances were limited and she FELL ASLEEP.

Justice squinted at Joy, a bunch of different responses flying through her head. Seriously, Joy!? Seriously!? After some consideration, Justice let out a long, drawn out sigh, looking at her lap. “This man just keeps letting you fall asleep and doesn’t make a move. I’ve made up my mind: he’s gay. He’s gotta be gay. Right Claire? Oooh, maybe that’s why he and your brother were always sharing rooms… I can get behind Caiden and Blake being gay. Even if it means my Joy doesn’t get what she wants. There’s no way a man just let’s you fall asleep twice without even touching you. Not even kissing you! He’s either gay, autistic, or… dumb.” Justice decided. As it happened, Caiden Winters was none of those things; but her mind was made up.

“He isn't like that!" Joy grew defensive, turning her head toward her friend the moment the lip gloss stick departed her lips. “Not ALL men think with their....”

“Dicks.” Claire cursed for Joy, who didn’t like to sound foul at work.

“Yes! It isn’t his fault he has a lot on his mind and probably doesn’t think of me like that.” It was in this moment, Claire realized that Joy had accepted the fate of being considered nothing more than ‘Blake’s little sister’.

The makeup artist, as well as hairdresser, gasped. “This absolutely won’t do! We must make you dynamite tonight. Yes. You will approach him again. But this time, full blown, sexy Joy. I have decided. After this show, I will make you my masterpiece.”

“You really don't have to..." Joy softly protested.

“Yes please! It’s sad watching her not only crush on him from afar, but deny crushing on him. It’s so obvious even Wade sees it, and Wade’s a nerd! All he ever does is watch tapes and eat donuts. Which I only think he ever has on hand to eat because of Trin…” Justice trailed off slightly, before puckering her lips a bit so that lip gloss could be applied. The end goal was to get Joy a boyfriend! Not just any boyfriend, the boyfriend. The one she dreamed of!

Joy opened her mouth to say something, only to hear a voice from behind say, “Joy, we need you in five!” It was almost time for Caiden’s promo and her chest felt tight. There was anticipation in her heart and a rush coursing through her stomach. Butterflies. She honestly didn’t know what to expect, since she refrains from reading the card. “Be there soon!”

Claire was almost done, curling the ends of Joy’s hair because why not? Her friend was going to be in front of her future bae. Every moment needed to count. “I’m not denying anything! Do you have any idea how Blake would react if anything were to… happen?” Joy grumbled in annoyance. Nothing good would come from her continuing her pursuit. “Unrelated but Trin will regret all those donuts she eats soon enough. It’s her daily diet. It’ll catch up with her one of these days!”

“Catch up… to her butt.” Justice remarked as she got up out of the chair, gesturing Joy to run off. “He’s gonna be pissed if you’re late, then you're never gonna get it.” She tutted, stuffing her hands in her pocket. Time to wander around until she got called.

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In the massive garage, where the TV trucks resided, Joy grasped tightly on her mic and took a deep breath in. Caiden hadn’t come out yet, but it was her job to stir him emotionally. Kevin had brought her aside moments ago to make sure that she focused the interview on Caiden’s questionable morals and his threat (or more like, his promise) toward Roddy Quinn. As much as she didn’t want to pressure him, it was her job and the moment he came in the scene, they would go live… in the ring and on many people's television screens.

Her twin met her gaze and gave her a nod. Turning her head to the right, she saw the backdoor open. It was time.

Indeed it was. Flying out of the backdoor was a man on a mission to bring his message to everyone who would dare listen to him: Caiden Winters. With a chip on his shoulder and a vendetta against damn near everyone in this company, he froze when he saw Joy standing there waiting for him, like she alway seemed to be doing. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Caiden Winters!” More of an informal interview introduction, but it fit the moment. Joy rushed toward him to make sure he didn’t get too far because she knew better. She knew he was a man on a mission, always. The camera followed her and then shifted from her face to his, “There seems to be some backlash with your threat at Shock N AWE Chicago for Roddy Quinn. Some people think you’re stepping out of line and need to know your place, that all you’re doing is ruining the image he helped build for you. Do you have anything to say about this?” Might as well hit him hard from the get go.

“Let’s me and you get one thing straight right here and right now. You think Roderick Quinn built my image? I’ve been doing this since I was fourteen years old. You think he came to a boy in Canada who could barely speak English and built him up? What do you think I was doing my whole life when I wasn’t here? I was in a real company, led by a real man: Misawa Baba, who helped me from day fucking one, when I arrived in Japan and he trained me and he helped me become the man I am today. Because of him, I’ve headlined the Tokyo Dome, I’ve won the Grand Prix, I’ve won the Battle of Los Angeles. Me and your brother held eight different tag titles at once — did Roddy build his image too, Joy? Idiot.” Caiden spoke with such apprehension, such anger… unbridled emotion flowed with each of his words — as always. The consummate professional, he never took the condescending looking out of his face; how dare she claim such a thing.

He’d apologize later.

Of course, Joy would rather ask other questions, but for the sake of entertainment and at Kevin’s request, she would keep egging Caiden along. Her heart did drop when he called her an idiot, but she knew better… it was all an act. Right? “Then why are you here?! In HIS empire? You want to be great. You say you are great. And yet, you allow your anger to influence your actions and all the people can see is you not keeping it under control and having a downright tantrum.” There was visible frustration and focus in Joy’s expression and her voice rose with every word. Did she agree with what she was saying? Not entirely. Many people, especially his fans, knew he was great, no, the best, and he had the whole package. But she’d play devil’s advocate if that meant he’d get more attention and… stay.

“I don’t say I’m the great, I say that I’m the best. That I’m better than the best. And Joy? I came here to bring the pain.” Behind them, a long stretch limo rolled up, and Caiden shifted his footing as it came to a stop. “You remember, two weeks ago. You asked me how I was gonna get the old man’s attention? Watch.” And then, as soon as the door to the limo opened, and Roddy stepped out of it, Caiden was on him in a flash, clubbing the old man with an elbow and then throwing him against the wall.

The old man never had a chance, as he was manhandled by the angry wrestler. Caiden threw Roderick Quinn into a random car, and when the true king of AWE slumped against the door to the car, Caiden picked him up by his shirt so they were face to face, and Caiden spoke. “I’m done with you wasting my time.” He growled at him, before he took his boss’s head and smashed out the driver side window with it, slamming Roddy’s face through the glass.

When Roddy slumped down out of the car and down to the ground, his face was dripping with the proverbial crimson mask, bleeding like a stuffed pig. Caiden turned, and walked directly toward the camera, heading toward the gorilla area, and when he passed Chance, he shoulder checked him, the camera shaking in response. What? Gotta play up the character.

Although Joy wasn’t seen on camera and Chance had focused in on Roddy’s face, the audience could hear her surprised and frantic voice, “Don’t let him pass out! Someone call the paramedics!” As calm as her voice tried to sound, it was obvious that Joy Ryder was completely shook. Her brown strands came into frame as she rushed to her boss’ side and then the camera cut to the inside of AWE, the stage camera, that aimed towards the ramp.

The music hit, and apparently Roddy had done a good job creating a hated persona for him, because even after the vicious attack on his boss, Caiden Winter’s reaction was loud and powerful cheers. Everyone wanted to hear what he had to say, and why wouldn’t they? He’d just went off on the only person that had supported him through this, other than the fans. He made his way to the ring slowly and with purpose; he didn’t have a match and to be honest, he didn’t give a damn if he did waste their time. This was his fucking show.

He rolled under the bottom rope and walked to the other side of the ring and held his hand out for a microphone — and, maybe out of fear, a mic was quickly supplied. Caiden, stomping around the ring as he spoke, his hand shaking slightly — he was hyped — began to spit the eternal fire. “Whoops, guess I beat down Morgana’s daddy; I better watch my damn back, that bitch has got daddy issues.” Snickering slightly, Caiden continued his monologue, “I’m only going to say this once, and I’m going to make it nice and clear: I hate him. I hate Roderick Quinn, and I hate everything he stands for. Now, hate is… hate’s a strong word, but I mean it. I hate him so much. And you know why I hate him? Because there’s one thing that I can’t stand, that makes my blood boil and that’s being ignored. And being ignored even when I yell AND SCREAM! For something that’s not going to happen, THAT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, and that’s an AWE title match… because someone back there knows that I am better than anything he has ever created, that his best creation — Drayden — could barely put me away when I had a dislocated shoulder, and mark my words, Drayden will never beat me again. Because I’m an indestructible wrestling machine, and I know every move in his book, I know counters to his counter’s counters. That’s fine, because Roddy Quinn can just sit backstage and watch me be better than anything or anyone that will ever step foot in this company.”

Caiden paused and let out a long breath. He closed his eyes and let himself calm down for a few seconds while the crowd cheered loudly. “There may never be another time that Caiden Winters steps into the ring at an AWE event and fights, but if there ever is, then it should be a good match; shake hands. Friendly competition between two great athletes… but it won’t be. Because, I hate everyone back there. I hate them, as shallow as it might be, because their bank statements look a lot better than mine after two years of being wasted potential here. Listen to me, I can only spend so many nights sleeping in my car, spill so many pints of blood, I can only go to the hospital and use a fake name because I can’t afford health insurance before I start thinking ‘you know, I don’t really wanna be so nice to people who have what I think… belongs to me.”

Another pause and this time Caiden was very suddenly fired up again. “I’M GONNA BEAT THE TRASH OUT OF WHOEVER STEPS FOOT IN THIS RING WITH ME NEXT! Because I’m hungry and I’m angry and I don’t… care, about anything. Right now, Roddy Quinn is being dragged back to the trainer’s room and he’s being examined to make sure yours truly didn’t do too much of a number on him, and he has no idea what he’s signed his company up for. Reality is going to give Roderick Quinn and all of the AWE a cold. Hard. SLAP! in the face.”

With that, Caiden Winters dropped the mic, and rolled out of the ring, heading back up the ramp.

He had to apologize to Joy.

AWE: American Wrestling Entertainment

Justice

^{5’3” - 110 lbs | 2 years}

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|Birth Name |
» Justice Andrea Marshall

|Hails From |
» Los Angeles, California
» March 23rd, 1992

|Job at AWE |
» Justice has a spot at the desk alongside her lifetime best friend, Joy Ryder, during the pre/kickoff show before PPVs, in addition to handing interviews that are put online. She works closely with Joy, and will eventually take the second spot at Aftershock alongside her friend.

|Skills |
» Let’s start with the basics: Justice has a nice voice. Does that sound basic? Well, that makes sense… because it is. It really started like that, having a nice voice. That was the only reason she was offered the job in the first place — it was on the recommendation of Joy Ryder that she applied for the job, and it was to the shock of herself that she got it.

Following that, she’s actually pretty good at this whole interview thing — maybe it’s from years of watching the AWE on television, but she has a way with talking to these people. She asks the right questions to generate the right answers to generate the proper amount of views. Why views? Because she does, specifically, the online interviews, things that they didn’t have a spot for on the main weekly card.

|Reason for being here |
» Her best friend works here, she gets to be on TV, and all of these people are so… hot.

|Looks & Style |
» She wears cute clothes, generally. She doesn’t try TOO hard, but is capable of maintaining a steady balance between cuteness and usability. She also tends to really like overalls — part of her grandfather’s influence, but hey. Whatever.

|Personality Traits |
» Attentive > Talkative > Charming > Overbearing > Nosy > Childish

|Favorite wrestler |
» Barbie, I loves me a good bitch. Hector, spooky is good. Drayden, what? He’s the ace, of course I like him. And Oscar, too! Dope dude.

|Rep at AWE |
» She’s too new to have that much of a reputation. She keeps up a pretty damn good facade of being a bright, bubbly, lovely little girl. So, so far, so good.

|Other |
» ed78dd
» FC: Katie Findlay

CLOSED (Formally Free Pass)

Location: CLOSE THE WINDOWS, DUDE, ITS COLD
Interacting With: The hungry girl ^{@Universorum@Lovely Complex}

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Did Mariah want to go shopping? No, not really. But she would anyway, out of love for Lala. Did she have money to spend? Fuck no, she made 9.30 an hour, and that’s only because they had to, she knew damn well Grandpa didn’t want to pay her well. Did she really care about these LA kids? Nah, dude. They were freakin’ weird. Did she worry about Remy after he kinda sorta had his heart ripped out of his chest and put throw a wood chipper? ...yeah, she did.

Without much of a knock or any indication of her presence, Mariah let herself into Remy’s home. Stepping into the kitchen where she saw her friend, Mariah moved about the kitchen with sweeping motions, shaking her head. She closed all of the windows, and looked over at Remy, finally addressing her friend. “Hey, buddy. How are you feeling? What’d ya make me?” She asked Rem, kissing her friend on the cheek. “Hey, man… I dunno what exactly happened, but I want you to know that I’ll be with you till the end! The bitter end, and if someone snubbed you I’ll shank them with a toothbrush — Pops taught me how to make one of those, apparently, when you’re in prison… that’s kinda important? I dunno.”

Quickly, Remy used his sweater sleeve to wipe Jar’s name off the window pane. With a nervous laugh, he tried to play it off like he was okay. He wasn’t okay. “Desi! Hey, um, nice seeing you… in my house. Make? What did I make…? Food. I made a lot of food.” A blubbering mess. “The breakfast kind.” He turned to face her, scratching behind his ear, his eyes were bloodshot and encircled with darkness, “There will be no shanking with toothbrushes. I’m fine! Don’t worry.” He waved his hand, as if he was brushing everything he was feeling aside, and he smiled at her, but it lacked the warmth that his closed friends knew he had.

“Bulllshittt, my guy. If you’re fine, then I must be like, The happiest person on earth and to be HONEST, I’m really not. Tell me what went down before I start texting and pestering your younger sister. And feed me.” Desi declared, sitting down at the kitchen table expectantly. Did they have time for breakfast? No. Did she care? FUCK NO. Hungry.

W-wah? Trying to defend his depression and make it seem not as bad as it was, Remy countered, “What are you talking about? You have no proof that I’m going through something.” Oddly enough, he obediently started making Desi a plate of food, piling all her favorites on it.

“I just have this feeling. Call it women’s intuition. Remrem, talk talk.” Desi demanded, thumping her fork on the table as the plate of food was thrown in front of her. “How can I help fix the issue if I can’t know what it is? Talk to me, or I’m just gonna start shanking the gay people at school with a toothbrush.” Mariah said, waving a fork with a piece of pancake on it, covered in syrup.

The last comment actually got a chuckle out of Remy. Taking in her request, while watching her in silence, his eyes scanning her expression and her hand gestures with the fork, Remy slumped into the seat beside her and brought his attention to the food. He hadn’t eaten much for the past couple of days. Fruit was really all he could manage to swallow. “I made a mistake and I really… hate myself for it.” He grabbed an unused fork and started playing with a small grape on the table, like a hockey puck.

“Well, what kinda mistake did you make? Hey, pass the black pepper.” Mariah said, gesturing as she attacked the food again. “I’m starving. Skipped dinner on accident last night. ...and lunch. ^{...and maybe breakfast.} But no matter! This is about you, my friend, my darling, my dude. So what went down? Are you sure I don’t need to shank someone?”

“If there’s anyone that needs shanking it’s probably… me.” Remy gently stabbed the grape on the table, while reaching for the pepper with his other hand. In time, Desi was gifted the black pepper and his mouth was rewarded with the grape he pulled off the fork with his teeth. He chewed for a moment, not saying anything more for at least thirty seconds, and then he heavily sighed. This was inevitable and she would give him hell until he told her everything - or well as much as he could in his state. “I ruined something good. I ruined my friendship with my best friend because I thought we could… I thought there was a possibility that he and I…. I thought… it doesn’t really matter now. I should have known better. I should have kept everything to myself and left things… the same. I shouldn’t have said…” I love you.

With sudden force, Remy threw the fork at the table causing it to ricochet off it and go in an aimless direction. “I’m fucking stupid, Mariah.” With obvious anger and sadness, all at the same time, he buried his face into his palms.

“Oh, Jar? Man, I dunno if I can shank the homie… Well, it’s okay. I don’t think you’re stupid. But I think you probably shouldn’t throw sharp metal objects all nonchalantly… You could hurt someone, or yourself. I think whatever you told Jar, it’s probably not as big a deal as you think? What I'm thinking, and I might be wrong, but I figure you tried to get Jar to go to the dance or something and cuz it threw Jar off — he probably don’t realize he’s a little gay — he turned you down. Probably aggressively.” Mariah said, chomping on a bite of hasbrowns. Man, she loved food so much. She loved it almost as much as she loved AC/DC. Almost.

“Yeah, sure.” The boy was disheartened and it would take more than the unlikely truth being told to him to make him feel better. Honestly, he just wanted to… sleep. “You can take as much food as you want to wherever you’re going today. I wouldn’t be able to eat all this by myself, anyways.” And it wasn’t like he was going to eat any of it anyways. His dad had already come downstairs, scold him for making the whole house cold and wasting the heat, then graciously took his, his future mom’s, and his sisters’ lunches with him. He was going… somewhere with them. Remy wasn’t really listening to his father. All he knew was his dad was going out with his girls. On the bright side, Remy would have the house to himself.

“What the fuck are you talking about ‘you’re going’? You’re coming too, dude. You think I’m goin’ down there with those crazy ass, ghetto ass, catty ass bitches from LA alone? Lala can only protect me from SO MUCH. I’m very tiny. You’re very tiny. We’ll be tiny together. And we’ll handle the Jar thing, y’know? Don’t worry about it, we’ll tackle that another day. For now, shopping. Sorta. I ain’t got no money.” Deserae scooped the last of her potatoes into her mouth, with a satisfying crunch. “You aren’t weaseling out of this, I don’t care how depressed you are.”

...“What are friends for?” Remy was left with no choice, literally. But, his friend did have a point. He shouldn’t abandon her to deal with the LA crew, who knew what they were capable of. They were… different, to say the least. After clearing his throat, he begrudgingly asked, “When should we head out?”

“‘Bout thirty minutes ago. We’re kinda late. I don’t care though.” Wordlessly pulling out her phone, she pecked out a text to Lala.

To: Lawls LOL
mission accomplished he is on board and we are standby for drawp
repeat we are standby for drawp
by which i mean imma drop the rest of this pancake in my mouth then we’ll be on our way to your house much love

Desi

“Now I’mma finish this food, then we can leave.” Mariah said smoothly, looking up from the plate and sawing into another pancake.

AWE: American Wrestling Entertainment

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Tournament Match: Owen Sparks (W) VS. Kidd Neon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chill man, chill.”

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

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

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

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

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

Let’s go Owen!
Owen sucks!

Let’s go Owen!
Owen sucks!

_{“Let’s go Owen…. Owen sucks.”}

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

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

“Sparks got HOPS!”

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

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

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

Morgana Promo (Sydney Staredown)

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

It was her time to shine.

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

Eat it up, babies.

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

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

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

Pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crowd wanted blood.

Tournament Match: Oscar O'Sullivan (W) VS. Local Competitor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joy Ryder intervews Gethin Rhys

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

Gethin Rhys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tournament Match: Initiate forces entry taking the Creation's slot. The Initiate (W) VS. Local Competitor.

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

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

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

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

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

Tournament Match: Gethin Rhys (W) VS. Local Competitor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PRO VIOLENCE! PRO VIOLENCE! PRO VIOLENCE!

Hype Package for the Re-Debut of Hector

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Main Event, Tournament Match: Sexton PS Love VS. Thunderbird (W)

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

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

"Gimme the fuckin' mic!"

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

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

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

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

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

Another huge pop.

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

And there it was.

“Nevermind.”

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Maybe.”

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

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

"Let's go Thunderbird! Get him!"

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

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

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

"Fat broads need Love too!"

This was the best part of the job.

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

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

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

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

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

“You were saying?”

“Two count isn’t a victory, Wade!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna break his damn neck!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We don’t want you anyway.”

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

"It's all over daddeh!"

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

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

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

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

"Ladies and gentlemen your winner, THUUUUUUUUNDERBIRD!"

AFTERSHOCK with Wade Palmer and Joy Ryder, featuring Sydney Ellis

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pause for dramatic effect.

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

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

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

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

AWE: American Wrestling Entertainment

@ZeusTheMooseYeah that's fine, I'll just have to inform James. I forgot about it while throwing the match list together, my bad. @JamesMuddy @The Kid Lantern This is my bad, but Sexton is gonna do a run in finish on that match with Thunderbird/Zachary Wake match to push the Thunderbird/Wake feud along. Sorry about that!

AWE: American Wrestling Entertainment

Daniel

<sup>Daniel “DC” “Don’t Call Me Danny” “Danny” “Danny Church” Church


6’ - 184 lbs | 12</sup>

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|Birth Name |
» Daniel Church

|Hails From |
» Sacramento, California
» October 9th, 1985 (31)

|Job at AWE |
» He does not work at AWE. However, he is often at their events and is friends with more than a few wrestlers and backstage employees. He is a wrestling journalist and posts stories as they come and go, and reviews the shows and matches. He reacts accordingly based on how he feels the company is performing, and has no qualms calling out a wrestler or wrestlers for having a shit match, cutting a shit promo, or calling out the powers that be for making their fucking look like goddamn geeks.

|Skills |
» Smooth talking
» Tech savvy
» Dadskills
» Radio host-esque silky smooth voice
» Good at ranting

|Reason for being here |
» When he was younger, in 2001, Daniel Church had a brilliant idea in his school computers class: he’d build a fucking website. Now, the first thing you had to do when building a website, was pick something you were passionate about… at the time, Danny Church was only really passionate about one thing: PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING. Even at the young age of fifteen, DC had a brilliant mind for coding and built a website that was grand, even for the times. It gained a following, and the forums on it exploded in popularity as the tape traders and more hardcore fans finally found a place to talk and get their opinions out there.

The Smark Remark, the website is known as, and it’s only grown since its original inception in mid-2001. Danny made friends with the right people, and after high school, he passed the day-to-day management of the website over to a team of administrators and moderators. The man himself began a focus on the content creation for the website. He hosted podcasts with wrestlers from all over the world, and he began to rate matches.

Every show he saw, either live or on a tape he bought, he rated the match. Over time, his ratings and opinions got a little controversial, with people arguing about whether he was right or wrong, but he there was one thing they agreed on: he was consistent. He also wrote reports on rumors that he heard, and posted opinions and frequently participated in conversations on the message boards.

Four years after graduating, when Danny was 22, his then girlfriend, Clarissa Whitaker, gave birth to his two beautiful children. Twins, a boy and a girl. Robert and Cynthia, Bobby and Cyn. His babies and his life — other than work. They are turning ten in January of next year, and attend an online school to make it easier on Daniel to travel around for his job. They haven’t seen their mother since they were two; as it turns out, their mother was… crazy, to say the least. After Daniel discovered her drug habits and realized she was a poison in his life, he cut her out and got full custody of his children.

Since then, the single dad life has been the life for him. Working and taking care of two rascals isn’t exactly the easiest lot in life, but… he makes it work. When he was called up by Walter Durrel, who proposed combining their two mediums a few years ago, DC jumped on the opportunity. Together now, they put out podcasts reviewing AWE mostly, as that’s Walter’s preferred company. In return, Danny Church offers the Smark Remark’s website as a new home for the Wrestling Journal. They make a surprisingly good team so far.

|Looks & Style |
» Decked out from head to toe in wrestling gear, Danny doesn’t give a FUCK about how people think of him in public. He’s a hardworking single father, get bent. He’ll sometimes match or contradict his children when they go to the shows — both of his kids are huge fans too.

|Personality Traits |
» Danny is brutal and quick to be critical. He doesn’t listen to the reasons for things sucking and just accepts that they suck. If a wrestler isn’t working at their full capacity because of injuries? Whatever, stop fucking working. Utilize your roster, people.

He’s fun to talk to, and is good at telling stories and ranting and making other people who agree with him happy. He often gets into long winded debates on his podcast with Walter, but as a person Danny honestly looks forward to it every night.

Deep down, he’s just a mark, dude. He loves wrestling, everything about it from the ground up is amazing, and he can’t get enough. The fact that he built something great out of his love for wrestling amazes him to this day, and the Smark Remark is his baby. He enjoys posting on the message boards to this day, and recording the weekly podcasts is something he lovingly looks forward to every day.

It’s his second baby, the thing he loves most right behind his children.

|Favorite wrestler |
» Caiden goddamn fucking Winters, fuck you Roddy for burying the best wrestler to ever grace this goddamn planet. And Retribution. Excited for him to come, which I'M SURE HE'LL DO EVENTUALLY ONCE RODERICK QUINN PULLS HIS HEAD OUT OF HIS FUCKING ASS. Gethin's a personal favorite too, at least he gets used properly by those idiots.

And fuck you Drayden, I bet you encouraged that shit, didn’t you? Gotta GO OVER EVERYONE. Asshole. And of course, my fucking kid loves you so I have all that stupid merchandise in my fucking HOUSE.

Trinity’s cool too.

And Morgana.

What? I can’t hate the kids’s favorites, I’d be an asshole.

Except for Drayden. Fuck you. And fuck your stupid fat head wall stickers, now you’re stuck to the goddamn wall behind my FUCKING COUCH.

|Rep at AWE |
» Honestly, most people at the AWE don’t really like him. Daniel is loud, brash, and he doesn’t care about calling them out if they do something stupid. If you botch one goddamn move you better believe DC will roast the fuck out of you. You lose a match looking like a geek and hate it? Too goddamn bad, Danny Church knows full well you’re a NERD and you’ll never live it down.

But, he’s undeniably good at the job, and they actually take his ratings seriously. The few wrestlers that Danny fanboys about are quite fond of him, and he does a good podcast that wrestlers try to take advantage of. It can just be hard to deal with someone that’s going to call out every little mistake you make, even when it’s more blamed on the booking team than yourself.

He also has a tendency to post rumors about who’s going to win or lose a match, and rarely checks the validity of his source. Unlike his partner, Walter, Daniel Church is not a journalist. He’s angry millennial who thinks Roderick Quinn is ruining his goddamn favorite thing by blowing Drayden and giving him everything he asks for.

This doesn’t stop every member of the locker room from obsessively checking his reviews, though. Even Roddy does it.

|Other |
» 16a064
» Jensen Ackles.