View Full Version : AWF Warzone - 8th October 2003; from Ibrox Stadium in Glasgow, Scotland

AWF Warzone
2003-10-12, 10:48 PM
Backstage – Mr Vaccaro’s Office
Mr Vaccaro sits sternly behind his desk, a pile of papers alongside him. He looks calm but determined.

Vaccaro: “My dear viewers, as you may already be aware, Syxx Feet Under saw a most heinous act carried out in the name of this program. I would like to make it clear that those who took part were, in no way, acting under orders from myself, nor were they in any way representing the feelings of the Warzone staff. Those involved were acting solely out of their own personal agendas, and as such will be dealt with privately by myself.”

He pauses for a few moments.

Vaccaro: “Regrettably, their actions has set about a course of events that I have been unable to directly influence. I can only react to these events. Primarily, the actions have resulted in the challenge of a War Games match being laid down at the feet of the Warzone brand. This challenge is something I will be addressing later in the broadcast. Until then, I hope you’ll enjoy the show.”

The Warzone credits roll, the music kicks in and we are [DELAYED DUE TO UNFORSEEN CIRCUMSTANCES] from Glasgow!

JFA: “Welcome, everyone, to Ibrox Stadium! Welcome to the Zone!”
JHA: “Oh, I’m pumped. We’ve got an action packed night ahead. Hardcore and TV Titles on the line… plus… we’re gonna find out, J. The War Games. Is it on? Is it off?”
JFA: “Well, Mayhem certainly think it’s on! AWF Champion G91 laying down the gauntlet, so to speak, after the events in the Iron Gauntlet. Given permission by Brendan Reilly… but it’s far from decided. But before we get that far, you can here music – it’s Beethoven…. And around here, that can mean only one thing!”
JHA: “Is it me? Or did it just get cold in here…”

The Lock vs. Morpheus

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, currently making his way to the ring… Morpeus!”

JFA: “Big win for Morpheus at Syxx Feet Under. Pinfall scored over UPF – you can bet that one’s far from over.”
JHA: “I still have to question what the hell UPF thinks he’s doing playing games with Morpheus. The guy’s a freak. And Morpheus isn’t all there either.”
JFA: “Much has been said about Morpheus, as we see him on his way to the ring here, the Ibrox faithful unsure quite what to make of him. Much has been said about his attempts to resurrect Silly Cow. He seems driven by the notion that his actions will somehow bring about the return of his previous fun-loving self.”
JHA: “And there’s as whack-job a notion as ever I heard. He thinks that inflicting pain on others is going to make his pain go away? Hey, whatever motivates y’to get through a match… just don’t point him in my direction.”
JFA: “Morpheus winning the Intercontinental Championship when he was Silly Cow, of course. And he may have his work cut out for him here, taking on another former Intercontinental Champion in The Lock.”
JHA: “Aren’t they former stablemates as well?”
JFA: “I don’t believe so. The Lock a stalwart of The Foundation; Silly Cow one of Pulp Faction. You may be confused by the fact that Windcharger was a member of each…”
JHA: “Aaah. I knew one of those Pulp Faction jobbers was ex-Foundation. Though, to be fair, if you’ve seen one loser then you’ve seen ‘em all.”

Finally reaching the ring, Morpheus slides under the bottom rope and stalks the referee. The official hurries around to the other side of the squared circle before the masked man stops abruptly and drops to his haunches, crouching by the ropes.

Get Rolled with the Fever on the Dancefloor

“And his opponent, from Melbourne, Victoria, Australia… The Lock!”

JHA: “Awh, look at the poor Aussie. All bandaged up.”
JFA: “The Lock severely injured in that Iron Gauntlet Match at Syxx Feet Under, of course. He lost a lot of blood due to heavy facial lacerations. Has been medically cleared to fight tonight, but as you can see – a few heavy dressings still present on his forehead.”
JHA: “Looks to have a black eye, too.”
JFA: “Grimlock soaking up the adulation of the crowd, certainly lost no support after that showing. Climbing into the ring, now. And… signalling for a microphone.”
JHA: “Oh no…”

Lock: “Hello, Ibrox! It’s good to be here. The Lock personally wants to thank you all for coming to see him kick seven shades of whatever courses through this masked freakazoid’s veins here out of him.”

Morpheus rocks back on his heels before jolting up to his feet and slowly creeping across the ring. Grimlock turns to face him and puts his hand up in defence.

Lock: “But the Lock doesn’t want to do that. The Lock’s so happy to be here that he doesn’t want to fight. Hell, the Lock knows that deep down, Morpheus doesn’t want to fight. The Lock knows that it’s just an outlet for the pain. Morpheus gets rid of the pain, then Silly Cow comes back. The Lock can get with that – the Lock remembers Silly Cow, the Lock liked Silly Cow.”

JFA: “I think we all did.”
JHA: “I didn’t.”

Lock: “But the Lock doesn’t think it’s right. The Lock knows that the more Morpheus hurts people, the less likely it is that we’ll ever see the dancer, the prancer, the ladies’ romancer back in the AWF. The 2 Lame was all about fun. But not the sort of fun that involves maiming people. So, here’s what the Lock says: The Lock says that we send the useless official back to the back, and that Morpheus and the Lock show the good people of Glasgow what it’s all about in a good old dance-off.”

JHA: “A dance-off? My god.”
JFA: “I don’t see why not! Silly Cow loved to dance. The Lock trying to appeal to the good natured side of Morpheus.”

Lock: “So, what does Morpheus say? Are we gonna hit the Lock’s music again and dance the pain away? Or is the Lock gonna have to get his hands dirty and beat that twistedness out of you like we all know he doesn’t want to?”

Creeping forwward, Morpheus leans into the microphone and mumbles “Let’s dance.”

The crowd explode as The Lock shakes Morpheus’ hand and the music starts up. The Lock takes center-stage momentarily as he breakdances in the middle of the ring. Stepping back, Morpheus slowly starts to boogie, before slowly getting into the groove.

JHA: “That’s the most disturbing thing I think I’ve ever seen.”
JFA: “It’s Silly Cow! Silly Cow is back. Beneath the mask lies the heart of everybody’s favourite 2 Lame!”
JHA: “And these British munchkins are lapping it up! That’s sick!”
JFA: “The Lock has appealed to Morpheus’ better nature! He found the outlet to bring Silly Cow back. And the people love him for it.”
JHA: “I don’t. I never liked Silly Cow. I could relate to Morpheus, but never Silly Cow…”

After a few minutes, the Lock signals that it’s time to go. The two exit the ring and embrace on the outside, before strolling back up the aisle. The Lock directs a cautious and uncertain Morpheus to the crowd next to the ramp, as he warily slaps hands, trying to remember what to do.

JFA: “I don’t believe this. Silly Cow has come back to the AWF!”
JHA: “I don’t believe it either. I feel sick.”

**A highlights package from Syxx Feet Under rolls, showing stills from all the Warzone matches, plus the main event**

JFA: “And… and we’re back here, folks. I really don’t know how to describe what’s just happened.”
JHA: “I do!”
JFA: “We didn’t have any cameras on the action at the time… for those of you unfamiliar with the stadia we’re dealing with, there’s a tunnel of sorts leading from the main stadium to the locker room area… we don’t know exactly what happened. Our cameras lost them as they entered the tunnel… all we know is that The Lock is currently receiving medical attention backstage, the entire tunnel area has been trashed… and Morpheus is nowhere to be found.”
JHA: “Isn’t it obvious, you moron? Morpheus took out the Lock! Silly Cow never came back…”
JFA: “No! I saw it myself, that was definitely Silly Cow under that mask!”
JHA: “Maybe for a brief moment, he came back… but as soon as he went through that exit… BLAM! He went back to Morpheus. As soon as he couldn’t see the people cheering him, Silly Cow disappeared!”
JFA: “Well, that’s purely speculation at this point, folks. What we do know is that Silly Cow, or Morpheus, or whoever the hell he is right now… he’s gone. He went into the tunnel, he didn’t come out the other side, the officials backstage heard a disturbance, and when they got there the Lock was lying unconscious, several chairs broken around him, and bleeding heavily from those facial wounds…”
JHA: “I’m right, I tell you! Morpheus destroyed him! Silly Cow faded as soon as they left the arena, so he tried to get him back by destroying the Lock!”

Backstage – Mr Vaccaro’s office
Amarant Odinson stands in the doorway, glaring at the Warzone owner, TV Title belt over his shoulder.

Amarant: “What the hell was that **** at Syxx Feet Under?”

Vaccaro: “I really do not have the faintest inkling of what you are talking about. Could you explain, please?”

Amarant: “When I became champion, it wasn’t a culmination of my training. It was another rung of the ladder. I won that belt because I needed a fresh challenge. New prey. What do I get? Cyberstrike and D-Extreme? They’re old news. I want a challenge. I don’t want to be relegated to fending off haggard windbags like those two.”

Vaccaro: “So… you’re telling me that the triple threat match wasn’t enough of a test of your skills?”

Amarant: “You seem to have grasped that much…”

Vaccaro: “Okay… I’ll see what I can do to make your title defence more… interesting…”

Amarant leaves as Vaccaro looks thoughtfully at the wall.

Tempest vs. The Big Scouse Machine

JHA: “I can’t believe what Tempest has to go through tonight. He’s the Lord Of The Mat! He shouldn’t be forced to fight riffraff like this!”
JFA: “Don’t complain to me, J. Complain to the bookers…wait a minute! We’re getting info from the back. And we’ve got a cameraman there…”

Cameras cut backstage as security and EMTs make their way to the parking lot. On the ground, we see the Big Scouse Machine laid out on the ground, a pool of blood forming near his head. Security begin to question the nearest witnesses as the EMT’s work to get the fallen superstar to the waiting ambulance.

JFA: “Big Scouse just got taken out! But how? And why?”
JHA: “Who cares? Let’s sit back and enjoy the moment.”
JFA: “And EMT’s loading Big Scouse into the ambulance…and Tempest is making his way out here. What does he think he’s doing out here?”
JHA: “Just bow to the king, J.”

Tempest makes his way into the ring, grabbing the microphone from JRA, and turning to address the crowd.

Tempest: “Good evening, plebeians! Now, I’m sure that most of you….well, I bet that some of you…hell, there must be one person out there who wonders what just happened to that nameless jobber that I was supposed to face tonight. Well, it just so happens that I managed to obtain some interesting footage. Roll it!”

The Archivetron lights up with an image of what obviously happened a few minutes ago. Big Scouse just arriving at the area, when he turns his head, spots something, and starts to run from it. He barely gets five steps before a car slams into him, sending him flying through the air to land on the spot where we have just seen him. The car skids to a halt, and the driver’s door opens to reveal…

JFA: “It was Tempest! He was the one who took out Big Scouse!”
JHA: “HA! Serves him right for thinking he can take on our lord and master!”
JFA: “*sigh*”

Tempest: “Yes, dear fans. It was I who took out you beloved Scouse. But rest assured, it would have happened anyway. If he had made it out here, he would have been completely destroyed by the AWF’s top superstar.”

JFA: “The guy wins one tournament, and suddenly he thinks he’s king of the ring?”
JHA: “Hey! Watch it with the copyright infringement, buddy!”

Tempest: “So, dear fans, I leave you with this note. As the Lord Of The Mat, I demand only the best that the AWF has to offer. If the next person I’m scheduled to face is anything like that, they’ll be taken out in the same manner.”

JFA: “Tempest leaving the ring.”
JHA: “And Big Scouse leaving the roster!”

AWF Warzone
2003-10-12, 10:49 PM
Mr Vaccaro walks through the corridors of Ibrox. As he does so, he hears a commotion in one of the locker rooms and sticks his head around the door.

Inside are Ravage, Strafe (modelling his new “QED, bitch!” t-shirt), OP2005 and the Tag Team Champions: Blood & Thunder.

Vaccaro: “What’s going on in here, then?”

The five men stand up. Wolfang steps forward.

Wolfang: “We’re just discussing why we’re not on the card.”

Vaccaro: “I have a lot on my mind right now. Plus… the Tag Team Championship is sort of a contentious issue right now. I’ll be dealing with that later on.”

Zarak: “Contentious? What’s happening?!”

Vaccaro: “Nothing for you to worry about… there’s just some legal issues to be resolved.”

Ravage: “Just so you know – if you accept the War Games thing, count me in. I’ve been there, done that.”
Strafe: “Tapped out…”
Ravage: “See that wall? Wanna find out how thick it is by going through it?”
Strafe: “You wanna find out how good my lawyer is, Mr ABH?”

Vaccaro: “Look… I appreciate the offer… but wait on it, okay? You’ll all find out later on. Oh, and OP. Why aren’t you ready? You’ve got a match.”

TV Title:
Amarant Odinson (c) vs. OP2005

JRA: “Ladies and gentlemen… the following contest is scheduled for one fall… and it is for the AWF TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP!”

‘More Human than Human’ reverberates through the Ibrox stadium as Amarant Odinson makes his way to the ring. The flashes of camera bulbs and the boos of the crowd create a ghostly sort of atmosphere in the impending darkness. The Rabid Wolverine seems less than thrilled as he makes his way to the ring, flexing his pectorals and neck muscles as he strides forward.

JRA: “Introducing first the champion… from Toronto, Ontario, Canada… the AWF TELEVISION CHAMPION… AMARANT ODINSON!”

The television champion decides that he can spare a moment for the throng. He surveys the crowd as he awaits his challenger.

JRA: “And his opponent… from Glasgow, Scotland… OP2005!”

The big Scotsman strolls to the ring, with his head tilted to one side as if he is straining to listen to something beyond the thumping of ‘The Waste’. He turns his head in the direction of this unheard sound, and nods vigorously at some unseen entity.

JHA: “Oh me, oh my… this is like a thumbscrew versus a screwball. Who the hell makes the matches around here?”
JFA: “That would be your good buddy Commissioner Vaccaro…”
JHA: “And what an excellent job he does!”
JFA: “Brown nose…”

The Glaswegian goliath charges at his adversary, knocking Amarant down to the canvas with a modified spear. Not taken unawares by this act, Amarant grabs one flailing arm and locks in a shortarm scissors to slow down the big man and bring the match to a pace he finds desirable. OP struggles briefly, but soon finds the rope and the champion breaks the hold.

JFA: “Amarant showing Op that he is the television champion, and that he will not be upstaged by anyone who wants to take away that title.”
JHA: “In other words, he’s going to bore the audience to tears.”
JFA: “Why are you so down on everyone?”
JHA: “That is a vicious rumour! I never had sex with anyone without their consent!”
JFA: “That’s not what I was getting at…”
JHA: “Shut up and call the match!”

Amarant waits on the challenger as OP charges at him. He takes down his adversary with a drop toehold and follows through, utilising his momentum, to turn it into an STF. OP claws towards the ropes, a great feat when you consider he is utilising only his arms and carrying over 200 pounds worth of television champion, who also happens to be choking the life out of him. After what seems like a decade, OP finally reaches a rope. The referee begins the five-count, and Amarant lets go at four-and-three-quarters to avoid being disqualified.

JFA: “Amarant releases the hold… I can’t see why… if he had held on, he would have been disqualified… which means he would have retained the title. I can’t imagine he’s developing a sense of honour…”
JHA: “What’s that?”
JFA: “I don’t imagine you would know. It’s an entry that’s been omitted from your internal dictionary?”
JHA: “Infernal? Like, hell yeah?”
JFA: “No internal… as in inside, within, interior.”
JHA: “Got it.”

Amarant and OP are both back to a vertical base. Amarant attempts to whip the big Glaswegian to the ropes opposite, but OP halts the process and counters with a bohemian clothesline, which hits with such force that it sends Amarant flipping through the air twice before he lands on the canvas. OP immediately goes for a cover; hooking Amarant’s left leg and holding down his left wrist with his right arm. The cover is better than moderately good. As the referee stoops to count, he gets 2 before Amarant reverses into another shortarm scissor. Or a variant thereof.

JFA: “Smart move by Amarant. He’s keeping the focus on that left arm of OP. If he neutralises that arm, it lessens the chances of OP dropping him with that move he calls the Gravedigger; a powerbomb turned into a modified Tombstone. Not only that, but it also limits the moves he can utilise against the Wolverine.”
JHA: “Oh, poor OP.”
JFA: “What is your damned problem?”

OP rolls through and manages to get to one knee and one foot. As he pulls himself to his customary bipedal arrangement, he manages to slip his right hand under Amarant’s back. The Wolverine still has hold of his left arm, but grows to regret that decision as OP hauls him into the air from the mat and brings him down with a modified powerbomb! The Glaswegian gets a two-count, and lets go of the Wolverine before heading to a corner. Instead of climbing the turnbuckles, as most people foresaw, he appears to be speaking to a shred of red spandex under the turnbuckles.

JHA: “What the hell is he doing now?”
JFA: “He’s talking to a wisp of red cloth.”
JHA: “I can see that! Why is he doing that?”
JFA: “Maybe he’s talking to Jinrai again.”
JHA: “That lunatic does know Jinrai’s alive and well and bugging the folks on Mayhem, right?”

As the debate continues, OP steps through the ropes to the apron and climbs to the top turnbuckle. He is unsteady at best, in both mind and body. Suddenly, Amarant surges to life and jumps to the top turnbuckle. Clearly, he expects to down the Scottish sentinel with an arm drag, but OP twists around at the last moment to try and keep his post on the turnbuckle. Instead of shrugging Amarant off however, OP follows him to the canvas where the Wolverine takes the opportunity to apply the House of Pain!

JFA: “House of Pain! This could be over right here! But OP finds the rope… and the hold is broken.”
JHA: “Amarant didn’t have the hold on like he planned. Essentially, the House of Pain is, in theory, a luche libre style arm-scissor takedown from the top which is turned into a shortarm scorpion scissor lock, with the heel inserted into the joint of the elbow. When you execute it, the idea is the arm-scissors take your opponent into a position further away from the ropes.”
JFA: “Basically, OP blocked it without knowing.”
JHA: “[censored].”
JFA: “That’s what I thought. When I first met you…”

Amarant and OP are quickly back to their more familiar stances; namely standing and staring at the other guy across the ring. As the Wolverine takes the initiative, OP sidesteps the Ontario native and pushes him face-first into the ropes. Amarant rebounds… and gets blasted with a belly-to-back suplex!

JFA: “OP could win this now… pulling up Amarant… and there’s the sign! The Gravedigger might be coming to a Canadian near you!”

OP flips Amarant up to shoulder height, and with both Amarant’s feet on his shoulders, falls to his knees; pushing the Canadian’s head toward s the canvas. At the last possible second, Amarant rolls over… and scores the win with a combination La Magistral and victory roll!”

The bell sounds, but absent are the announcement of the victor and his theme music playing in the background. Amarant looks perplexed.

JRA: “Ladies and gentlemen… I have just been informed that this match will now be… TELEVISION TITLE TURMOIL! The next opponent…”

Television Title Turmoil: Round 2
Amarant Odinson (c) vs. Ultimate Weapon

‘Stonecold’ hits the airwaves as Ultimate Weapon charges to the ring! He wastes no time in blindsiding the TV champ, before throwing him to the ropes opposite and hitting him with a huge back body drop on the rebound from the tensile strands. Amarant sits bolt upright for les than a third of a second before he slumps back down to the mat. UW covers him for a two-count, as OP2005 strolls to the back being consoled by Jinrai.

JFA: “And that’s hardly fair. I might not be the biggest fan of the Wolverine, but this isn’t right. He should have been given time to prepare for this.”

UW is back up, and he deposits Amarant back on the canvas from whence he came with a stiff suplex before climbing to the top turnbuckle and coming off with a flopping Senton bomb onto the champion. He rolls off his opponent, clutching his lower back, and struggles back to make another attempt to win the match via pin fall.

JFA: “Another cover by UW… 1… 2… and Amarant gets a shoulder up.”
JHA: “You know, despite the fact that I’m not Amarant’s biggest fan either, I’m inclined to agree with you on this matter. He was preparing for one guy. Now he has to face… how many?”
JFA: “According to the notes I’ve been handed from Vaccaro’s secretary… he has another two opponents if he overcomes UW. If not, UW has two more opponents.”
JHA: “You’re telling me that… if Amarant loses to UW… UW is the TV champ?”
JFA: “That does appear to be the case, yes.”
JHA: “Man… that REALLY isn’t fair…”

Amarant is dragged unceremoniously to his feet as UW sets up for a fall-away slam. As UW goes to fall back, Amarant shifts his weight and covers the challenger for a two-count. He pulls the Oceanside resident to his feet, and an Irish whip attempt is countered by a reversal into a shortarm clothesline from the challenger. UW covers, but only manages a two-count before Amarant pushes him off. The Wolverine kicks to an upright position and charges again… scoring a clothesline that almost decapitates his adversary. He scoops up the fallen UW for a body slam… but the challenger counters with a dramatic reverse DDT!

JFA: “And UW could be the next AWF Television Champion! 1… 2… oh, and how close was that?”
JHA: “You couldn’t have slid a pencil between the mat and the ref’s hand then. UW nearly won the belt!”
JFA: “And one of these two guys has to go on to face another two opponents after this! How fair is that!”
JHA: “Poor Amarant… having to go through all this. What did he ever do wrong?”
JFA: “You change your tune more often than a couch potato changes channels.”

As the two announcers insult each other at random intervals, Amarant is back on the attack. He climbs to the top turnbuckle, and dives towards the challenger with his arms spread wide. At the last moment, UW spins upwards and catches Amarant with a stunning neckbreaker variation which sends Amarant flying through the ropes.

JHA: “Oh no! Amarant’s gonna get counted out! He’s gonna lose the belt!”
JFA: “It certainly looks that way.”
JHA: “Get up, Amarant! Get up!”

As the ref counts seven, UW makes a move towards his nemesis. The interruption resets the count, and Amarant manages to get back into the ring at the count of six. The Wolverine is tiring… the effects of the competition are slowly mounting upon him. He catches UW with a forearm shot, but his timing is off; instead of hitting him at the peak of the move, he only lands it on the downward sway. The ref checks on UW, whose nose is busted from the earlier assault.

JFA: “Amarant looking a little the worse for wear… gets to his feet… as does UW… kick to the gut of Amarant… and there’s the signal! UW going for the Razor’s Edge… up… Amarant switches… 1… 2… 3! He got him!”

UW looks more than slightly chagrined by the decision, but the Oceanside native accepts the decision, and walks proudly to the back; slapping high fives all the way. As he reaches the entrance, ‘Maven’ rocks the Ibrox Stadium as UPF charges to the ring!

Television Title Turmoil: Round 3
Amarant Odinson (c) vs. UPF

JFA: “And here’s UPF! Spear takedown… punches to the temple… Irish whip… reversal… and a powerslam by Amarant! 1… 2… and a kick out by UPF! Amarant lifts him up… front facelock… suplex… and a second… a third… and a front suplex by the Television Champion! 1… 2… and another kick out by the man from San Francisco.”
JHA: “UPF isn’t wasting time… he’s going for the kill right away! I didn’t know he had it in him!”
JFA: “I can understand where you’re coming from there… Amarant now up again… grabbing the Californian… deposits him in a corner… and putting that left leg through the rope… and stretching the star-spangled superstar through the ropes! Referee utilising that five-count… and Amarant breaks at four-and-three-quarters. Irish whip by Amarant… UPF across the ring… hits the turnbuckles, spine first… Amarant charging in… and UPF moved out of the way! Amarant caught in a front chancery… UPF sits on the top turnbuckle… and there’s the Cyclone DDT! 1… 2… and Amarant barely manages to lift a shoulder from the canvas.”

UPF is back on the offensive, utilising a dragon sleeper to some good effect. Amarant manages to bridge up to a vertical base… flips himself to a point where he is hanging upside down over the mat… and brings a devastating Samoan neckbreaker to bear down on his adversary!

JFA: “The Wolverine with that devastating neckbreaker on UPF… 1… 2… and a kick out by UPF!”
JHA: “Where the hell is Amarant getting the energy from? He’s staved of the challenge from OP and UW… he’s faring reasonably well against UPF… is he going to have to go through the rest of the alphabet to keep his title?”
JFA: “I genuinely have no idea who the last participant in this event is… whoever it is will undoubtedly have an advantage over either UPF or Amarant… Amarant now lifting UPF from the mat… down with a body slam… again to that top rope… UPF still down… and there’s that driving elbow-and-knee smash from the top turnbuckle by Amarant. Cover… 1… 2… and another kick-out by UPF!”

Amarant brings his opponent up with both arms locked behind the Californian’s back. He kicks backward, and UPF soars through the air… landing on his feet! He turns toward the Wolverine, who is slowly getting to his feet and is painfully unaware of the status of his nemesis. As Amarant gets to his feet and turns to where UPF landed, he is surprised to be met by UPF’s steely blue gaze fixed on him from a vertical position, and even more surprised by the kick into his abdomen by the patriotic powerhouse. UPF pulls the Wolverine’s hunched mass towards him, and makes the signal for the Prime Cutter!

JFA: “Here we go… one Prime Cutter from a prime contender to the TV Title… lifts Amarant…. and connects! Wait… UPF dragging him out of the ropes… cover… 1… 2… and a kick out! UPF could have had Amarant pinned right then and there… but dragging Odinson out of the ropes may have cost him on that occasion… hauling up the TV champion again now… and down with a side backbreaker. UPF going to the top… looking for a Shooting Star-Spangled Press… and misses! Both men down… the referee using that ten-count again…”

As the referee reaches six, Amarant manages to get to his feet and strolls to where his opponent is lying on the canvas. As Amarant hauls the Californian upright, a silver and black object rolls over the guardrail, and lunges into the ring behind him. As Amarant pulls his opponent upright, the silver and black mass thunders into the back of him, knocking him to the canvas. The clothing is thrown aside as Morpheus makes his presence felt. The referee calls for the bell as Morpheus delivers the Anesthesis to the TV champion. The lord of dreams stands up again, and points, laughing mirthlessly at his nemesis UPF, before the star-spangled sentinel spears the ominous outcast to the arena floor!

JFA: “Damn him! That snake Morpheus robbed UPF of victory over D-Extreme three weeks back… in another TV title match… and he stole the win at ‘Syxx Feet Under’… and now he robbed UPF again! Somebody has to stop this!”

As UPF and Morpheus attempt to remove parts from each other’s bodies, a horde of referees led by Noah Ordak surges to ringside to stop them. As they struggle with the enraged patriot and the lord of dreams, ‘X Gonna Give It To Ya’ hits and D-Ex surges out of the crowd towards the fallen Wolverine!

Television Title Turmoil: Round 4
Amarant Odinson (c) vs. D-Extreme

JFA: “D-Ex has the cover! 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… and where the hell is the referee?”

As Greg Garrett goes to count the fall, the appointed official for the match, James Gordon, grabs him by the leg and drags him out to the floor. The two officials argue about who should be allowed to make the count, as D-Extreme looks out at the crowd with a face showing annoyance, confusion and bewilderment. He releases the cover, and moves towards the rope nearest the arguing zebras. He puts his head through the ropes to examine the problem, as Amarant pulls himself upright using the ropes. Unheard, the Wolverine stalks toward his opponent… and snaps off a Dragon suplex with a perfect bridge.

JFA: “James Gordon in now… 1… 2…. And D-Ex kicks out! Amarant in disbelief… and the crowd in uproar over this debacle with the referees!”

D-Extreme rolls to one side and catches Amarant with a clothesline as the Wolverine gets to a vertical base. He repeats the process five times before whipping the Wolverine across. He lowers his head in anticipation of a backdrop to the Wolverine, but is instead met with his own finishing move from the Television Champion!

JFA: “THE X-OCUTION! Amarant just hit D-Ex with his own move! Hooked the leg… 1… 2… and there’s 3! Amarant just beat D-Ex with his own move!”

As D-Ex alternates between staring at disbelief at the official and the champion, Amarant stands on the entrance path waving his TV title in the air and smiling a grin devoid of any warmth or emotion; a smile of pure malice and disdain. The crowd boo the TV champ as he leaves with his belt.


AWF Warzone
2003-10-12, 10:51 PM
As we come back to the ring, Mr Vaccaro has taken up a position in the squared circle and is clutching a microphone.

Vaccaro: “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It’s such an honor to bring Warzone to the United Kingdom for the first time. But enough of the pleasantries… I have some rather important business to address.”

JFA: “I’ll say.”

Vaccaro: “As few of you will know, in the light of what happened at Syxx Feet Under, certain officials in the AWF have pulled strings regarding the AWF Championship.”

JHA: “What?!”

Vaccaro: “The fact of the matter is, with the War Games challenge pending, and in light of the beating that Galvatron91 took at the hands of several Warzone roster members at Syxx Feet Under… it has been decided that the Game’s drafting to Mayhem can supercede the fact that the AWF Championship is not brand-exclusive. In layman’s terms, if he represents Team Mayhem… he’s got to be Mayhem Exclusive.”

JHA: “No Game! Warzone is gonna be Game-free!”
JFA: “And AWF Title-free, J.”

Vaccaro: “IF – that’s IF we accept the War Games challenge. If not, then the AWF Championship can come over here again. But then it’s upto the Game… and after what happened to him, I don’t know if he’d want to. Especially if we backed down from the challenge. Now, I did some digging… and I can invoke the same ruling here, with the Hardcore and Tag Team Championships. If I want to. And if I accept the War Games challenge.”

JHA: “Where’s he going with this?”
JFA: “I don’t know…”

Vaccaro: “So. I sat down and I weighed up the options. And I decided, that as of today, until further notice… you can consider the Hardcore and Tag Team Titles to be Warzone exclusives. Because I’m accepting the challenge of the War Games!”

JFA: “Good god.”

Vaccaro: “I’m tired of Brendan Reilly running this show down every chance he gets. This is the opportunity everybody on Warzone has been waiting for – to stand up and show those Mayhem punks where the real talent is!”

My World hits and Redstreak, Thundercracker, Astrotrain, Viewfind and the NWA make their way to ringside. Stopping at the foot of the aisle, Redstreak raises a microphone and responds.

Red: “Everybody knows where the talent is, Vaccaro. It’s right here. You want a team of five? Pick one. Any five from us six is more than enough to lay out the entire Mayhem roster. We started this… we’ll finish it for you.”

Mr Vaccaro grins in the ring.

Vaccaro: “No. You won’t. Yes, you got me into this… and I know you’d love to get the glory by representing my roster. But we all know that you’re an unfair representation of this roster. What you did was totally off your own backs and I don’t condone it for a moment. Your actions forced my hand, and I won’t let you force me into doing your bidding by picking your squad of goons for the War Games.”

TCA seeth on the outside.

Vaccaro: “Instead, I’m going to be totally fair about it. I’m going to send only the best. And I’m going to give each and every man on this roster the chance to prove they fall into that category. If Mayhem are fielding the Game… I’m fielding my champions, too. The Hardcore and Tag Team Champions, whomever they may be at the time, will represent Warzone. To make it fair, they’ll be defending on each show between now and Autumn Annihilation. They’ll be joined by two men. Those two men will be the last two standing in a battle royal to be held on next week’s show. If those five men are all from TCA, then so be it. If none of them are, then so be it. But whomever represents this show is going to EARN the right. And I’m not going to force anybody who doesn’t want to. War Games is a nightmare of a match… it’s totally unsanctioned by the AWF… and I’m not going to back anybody into a corner.”

Nodding to themselves, TCA back up the ramp and head to the back.

Vaccaro: “You want to play, Reilly? You want the world to believe your ramshackle ratings-feast is better than this? It takes more than two hours of cheap pops to beat the real wrestlers. You waltzed into my company, you usurped me, you bought out half the shares… now I get even. You started all this conflict, but rest assured I’m going to be the one who finishes it.”


Amarant Odinson confronts Mr Vaccaro as he comes back from the ring.

Amarant: “I’m still not champion enough for you, then?”
Vaccaro: “What?”
Amarant: “Why’m I not automatically in the team? I’m TV Champion. I’ve got more talent than the rest of this roster put together.”

Mr Vaccaro chuckles lightly to himself.

Vaccaro: “Fab. The Mayhem guys are queuing up to call the match insane, whereas mine are tripping over themselves to defend the honor of their brand. I like that. Amarant, it’s nothing personal. But that TV Title has to be defended on every broadcast. Including the Pay Per View. And I’m not willing to let you compete in War Games if you’re not 100%. Now, I know you think you can manage it… but I can’t take the risk. Seriously. Otherwise, you’d be an automatic selection.”
Amarant: “Really?”
Vaccaro: “Really.”

Computron vs. Redstreak

The sounds of Creed kick in as Computron makes his return to the AWF following a brief sabbatical.

JHA: “Ugh. This guy? AGAIN?!”
JFA: “We’re in the United Kingdom, so I think Computron’s picked the right tour to make his return.”
JHA: “I disagree. Really, I do. My life would be happier if I never had to see this goof or his erstwhile tag team partner ever again.”
JFA: “Well, you’ve no danger of seeing Jetfire for a while – he’s on Mayhem.”
JHA: “That’s true. But we did get rid of Cyberstrike to Mayhem this week… and it would be just my luck if that idiot Jetfire was the trade against him.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, coming down the aisle: from Cardiff, Wales… Computron!”

JFA: “Mixed reception for the Welshman from this Scottish crowd.”
JHA: “Eh? It’s all the same country, isn’t it?”
JFA: “I apologise to our British viewers on behalf of my colleague. I sincerely do.”

Metallica’s My World take over as the crowd noise turns exclusively to jeers.

JHA: “Wow. Feel that heat. What’s he ever done to these clowns?”
JFA: “And… and Redstreak bringing some insurance with him, it would seem.”
JHA: “You say that like it’s a crime!”
JFA: “On second thoughts, insurance is probably an understatement. The entirety of TCA out here with Redstreak.”
JHA: “Not the entirety! There’s no A-Train.”
JFA: “That makes a huge difference. These people absolutely mugged the Game at Syxx Feet Under. Now they’re all out here for one singles match against Computron? That’s unnecessary.”
JHA: “It’s just moral support.”

“And his opponent… from Detroit, Michigan: Redstreak!”

Flanked by Thundercracker, Viewfind and the NWA, Redstreak struts cockily to the ring before leaping onto the apron and stepping through the ropes.

JFA: “And that’s good sense by the referee! Ordering TCA away from the ringside area.”
JHA: “That’s not fair. Nuh-uh!”
JFA: “I don’t see how. Computron hasn’t got anybody at ringside with him. The GPA and Thundercracker backing up the ramp now… very begrudgingly. Some more referees out to convince them.”
JHA: “That’s not fair, J. They’re not causing any harm.”
JFA: “It’s the potential more than anything. Redstreak arguing with the referee… and Computron just attacking him from behind!”
JHA: “Well, that’s sportsmanlike.”
JFA: “Computron wailing away on Redstreak… turning him around now… hard right hand. Whips him to the ropes… and a high knee on the rebound. Picks Redstreak up… hard knife-edge chops… and an Irish whip to the buckle.”
JHA: “This isn’t fair either! He caught him from behind!”
JFA: “Computron with Redstreak in the corner… climbing the turnbuckles. Hard rights to the forehead, the crowd counting for him. Four, Five, Six… oh, but Red powering out of the corner. Inverted atomic drop, no blocked by Computron… and a thunderous clothesline from the Welshman! Lateral press – one, two… shoulder up.”

Kicking out, Redstreak scrambles to his feet, but Compy grabs him in a reverse chinlock. Shifting his weight, the American ducks backwards and lifts his opponent high before dropping backwards to the mat.

JHA: “Great counter.”
JFA: “Back suplex from Redstreak to reverse the chinlock. Back to his feet and off the ropes. Elbow drop? No! Missed by Redstreak, Computron rolled out of the way. Compy back up now, whips Red to the ropes, leapfrog on the rebound… sleeperhold! Caught Redstreak in a sleeperhold… and Red just throws himself forward and sent Computron crashing facefirst into the top turnbuckle.”
JHA: “Smart play there. Always knows where he is – great ring presence by Redstreak. That’s why he’s number 1.”
JFA: “Not because he surrounds himself with zeroes, then? Redstreak pulling his opponent away from the ropes, now. Hooks the head and a reverse DDT down to the canvas. Hook of the leg, but a kick out on two.”
JHA: “Zeroes?! Zeroes?! Oh, they’d kick your ass if they could hear you say that.”
JFA: “And I’d happily have them arrested for it. Redstreak off the ropes again… and that time the elbowdrop connects. No cover, though. Pulling Computron up. Front facelock… and a snap suplex. Floats over into a pinning combination, one… two… shoulder comes up just after the two.”
JHA: “That was close.”
JFA: “That was very close. Redstreak turning Computron over onto his stomach now. And just sits across that lower back, chinlock applied. Really looking to stretch Compy’s spine here, as well as push the air out of his lungs.”
JHA: “Great move. Pulls back on the head and neck area, puts all his own weight on his opponent, plus gives himself plenty of time to formulate a strategy to cope with what Computron’s brought to the table. Another reason why Redstreak is number 1.”

Glancing around to take in the crowd, Redstreak smiles to himself. He pulls back on Computron’s chin as the Welshman’s hands start to inch up to try and break the grip.

JFA: “Redstreak with those fingers locked in beneath Computron’s chin. Could easily slip into a chokehold.”
JHA: “Oh, good point! Choke him, Red!”
JFA: “Will you stop? You’re supposed to be impartial!”
JHA: “I am impartial! It just so happens that my level of impartiality varies from wrestler to wrestler.”
JFA: “Redstreak standing up now, releasing the hold to grab Computron’s arms. Perhaps going to try and change it into a version of the camel clutch.”
JHA: “Smart play.”
JFA: “But… oh, no – Computron just took advantage and slipped out the back door! Grabs Redstreak’s ankles, and just took the foundations away! Redstreak flat onto his face… Computron still holding the legs, spins him over… figure four leglock! Figure four by Computron, right in the centre of the ring! Redstreak flailing desperately, dragging himself across the mat like a whirling dervish and manages to get hold of the bottom rope.”
JHA: “Phew. I thought that was it, there.”
JFA: “Redstreak panicked there like you would not believe. Referee making Computron break the hold. He’s got to be tired from that chinlock. Redstreak clutching his knee, I don’t think the hold was applied long enough to do any real damage, though.”
JHA: “You don’t know that. He could have very delicate knees for all you know.”
JFA: “I think it would have come up in the past.”

As Red pulls himself up with the ropes, Computron staggers back to his feet in the middle of the ring. Taking aim, Redstreak darts across the squared circle and swings a clothesline at his foe. Computron ducks it though and charges across the ring and into the ropes. Rebounding as Red turns around, Compy connects with a spinning heel kick that knocks the American straight off his feet.

JHA: “Ouch…”
JFA: “Redstreak taken out, there. Upto his feet though… Comps with a stiff right hand… and another… and drives the point of the elbow into the bridge of the nose. Side headlock clamped in… backed into the corner of the ring… and a running bulldog from the Welshman. This crowd really warming up, here.”
JHA: “Bunch of savages. Redstreak’s being brutalised and they sit back and cheer…”
JFA: “Computron leaving the ring, now. Going to the outside. Third floor… lines it up… Redstreak prone below… elbow drop! Huge elbow straight across the chest. Hooks the leg, it’s gonna be over, one… two… oh, shoulder somehow comes up from Redstreak.”
JHA: “Somehow? It’s because he’s number one. Just ask him, he’ll tell you.”
JFA: “Computron up to his feet again, pulling Redstreak up… oh my god…”
JHA: “What? What happened, my monitor blanked out…”
JFA: “Redstreak… from his knees… just a blatant uppercut below the belt. Referee was at the wrong angle, missed it completely. Computron in sheer pain, there… Redstreak up to his feet…”
JHA: “Side effect! BAM!”
JFA: “Side effect connected by Redstreak… not covering, though. Pulling Computron up again… the Welshman’s gotta be out of this one… front facelock… and there’s the Redocution! High angle DDT.”
JHA: “Stick a fork in him, baby. That turkey’s done!”
JFA: “Hook of the leg… one… two… three. That’s it. Redstreak with a hard fought victory over Computron. And one you could say he doesn’t deserve…”
JHA: “How could anybody say that? He pinned him clean in the middle of the ring!”

Shaking the cobwebs clear as he stands up, Redstreak refuses the referee’s attempt to raise his hand in victory. Instead, he gestures up the ramp for some assistance.

JFA: “Now what? Oh… Redstreak stomping away on Computron. That’s uncalled for – the match is over, dammit! Putting the boots in. And here come the rest of TCA back to ringside. Like a pack of dogs getting the call from the alpha male… this is ridiculous.”
JHA: “First you call them zeroes, now a pack of dogs? Anybody would think you didn’t like these guys. And you’re meant to be impartial!”
JFA: “During the match, yes… but not at a time like this. Redstreak, Thundercracker, Viewfind, Prowl, Divebomb… all stomping away on Computron. He’s done nothing to harm any of them…”
JHA: “He stepped in the ring with Redstreak. You take on one, you take on them all!”
JFA: “That’s the biggest load of baloney I’ve ever… what the hell?”
JHA: “What happened to the lights? I can’t see!”
JFA: “It’s gone pitch black in here! The only light is the moonlight coming in through the open roof… but… what the?”
JHA: “Oh dear god…”

As the lights come back on, Brave Maximus is sat on the top turnbuckle inside the ring. He stares calmly through the mass of bodies, intent upon something.

TCA glance around bewildered, slowly putting the boots to Computron as they try to work out what’s going on.

JHA: “Oh no, J. What’s gonna happen now? He picked off Ghostal… now who’s he after?”
JFA: “I think only one person knows… and that’s Brave Maximus… that may be about to change, though…”

Dropping from the buckle to the canvas, Brave slowly raises his arm and points through the crowd before extending his finger in finality.

JFA: “Good god.”
JHA: “Homeslice, no!!”
JFA: “And Viewfind’s jaw just rooted itself in the mat! Viewfind disbelieving… and he’s out of there!”
JHA: “Run, homie! Run!”
JFA: “Viewfind getting the hell outta town! Straight into the crowd… Brave following him… no – the GPA standing in his way…”
JHA: “Oh god…”
JFA: “Not for long! Brave with a clothesline on Prowl… just took him right over the top rope… biiiiig boot to Divebomb. And through the ropes to the outside. Heading into the crowd, now. Tailing Viewfind…”
JHA: “Oh god. Poor homeslice…”
JFA: “But back in the ring and it’s poor Computron! Redstreak and Thundercracker still pummelling away on the Welshman. Red holding him in place… TC going top rope… Five star frog splash! This is despicable. Absolutely uncalled for.”
JHA: “This is fun! This is…”

The crowd explode as another figure charges through the entrance and down the aisle.

JHA: “What the?”

Sliding into the ring, he nails Redstreak with a hard right hand, before nailing a chop to Thundercracker followed by a boot to the midsection.

JFA: “Jetfire! It’s Jetfire!”

Wearing a “The War’s On” t-shirt, Jetfire delivers a stiff powerbomb to Thundercracker before the two Americans roll out of the ring and gather up the NWA.

JFA: “Jetfire’s on Warzone! Coming to the rescue of his former tag team partner!”
JHA: “This is the universe’s way of getting back at me, isn’t it? I hate you, karma!”

TCA glance back into the ring, eyes filled with hatred, as Jetfire hauls the beaten Computron up to his feet so the two can soak up the reaction of the crowd.

Two sides. Brought together by one heinous act.

Ten men. Brought together by two causes.

Two rings. Brought together within one demonic structure.

No referee. No count-outs. No disqualifications. No pinfalls.

Submit or surrender.

The only way to win is not to give up.

Easier said than done.

War Games – Mayhem vs. Warzone.
Live, Sunday 26th October 2003; from Old Trafford Stadium, Manchester.

The Theatre of Dreams is about to play host to a nightmare.**

Hardcore Championship:
RCOSD (c) vs. Astrotrain

JFA: “J, you know where we are?”
JHA: “I dunno. Somewhere in Loserville?”
JFA: “Nope. The Ibrox Stadium in Glasgow, Scotland, home of Glasgow Rangers FC.”
JHA: “Like I said. In the middle of nowhere.”
JFA: “Anyways, one of our next combatants hails from around these parts, and you can be sure that the fans would be giving him a good homecoming welcome.”
JHA: “Great. I’ll bring the beer. Be the only way I’m gonna enjoy any of this.”

The speakers come alive with “Crash" by Mephisto Odyssey & Static-X, and Astrotrain comes down the ramp, expecting some kind of reaction from the crowd. However, none is forthcoming, as it seems that they are holding back in anticipation, as if someone was trying to uncork a wine bottle. That cork finally comes undone as Rotterdam Terror Crops - Brutal Attack” blares, and RCOSD, Glasgow’s native son, appears on the ramp, Hardcore title in one hand, and shopping cart in the other.

JFA: “Crowd giving RCOSD a hearty welcome here tonight.”

Energized by the raucous crowd, The One Man Army races down the ramp, picking up enough speed to launch himself, riding on the back of the shopping cart, into the air. The whole mess lands near the ring. A-Train takes the opportunity to come out of the ring to help himself to some of the goodies contained therein, only to meet the business end of a baseball bat as RCOSD gets to his feet.

JFA: “RCOSD really taking it to A-Train tonight. He must be getting some good vibes from the crowd tonight.”
JHA: “I’m gettin’ something from them, too. But it ain’t good.”

A-Train valiantly tries to put up some sort of defence against the brutal beating that RCOSD is taking out, but it’s all for naught, as RCOSD proceeds to pound away. Slamming the baseball bat into his gut a final time, A-Train finally falls to the ground, s deep gash in the side of his head spewing blood. RCOSD takes this opportunity to head back to his shopping cart full of goodies.

JFA: “RCOSD going back to look through his shopping cart full of stuff.”
JHA: “Where does he find that stuff anyways?”
JFA: “Beats me. Maybe there was a sale at the hardware store. Buy one implement of destruction, get a dozen free.”

RCOSD finally makes his choice, and pulls out a golf club. Grinning evilly, the cheers of the crowd throbbing though his veins, he saunters back to the bloodied up A-Train, who is just getting to his feet. As A-Train get to his feet, RCSOD swings back…


…and swings at A-Train’s head, sending the big man head over heels…and into the announce table. RCOSD gives a big, hearty laugh at this, then goes over to the ring apron and begins to look under the ring for more tools. He tosses out some chairs, a broken piece of table, and a “STOP” sign out. Nearby, A-Train struggles to get to his feet, as the crowd cheers on. RCOSD halts in his weapons collecting to turn to a fan in the aisle, wearing a Rangers T-Shirt. Grinning, he grabs the “STOP” sign, heads over to JRA, grabs the microphone, hops over the security railing, and walks over to the fan.

JHA: “What’s going on here? When did this become ‘WARZONE: THE INTERACTIVE GAME?’”


The crowd erupts in cheers as they hear their hometown hero address them while in their midst.

JHA: “Great. The guy’s been taking “Cheap Pop” lessons from Mick Foley again.
JFA: “Sush, J. The man is speaking.”

RCOSD: “It’s great to be back home in…GLASGOW!” *yet another cheap pop* “And I see we got a fan of the Rangers here. What’s your name, son?”

Fan: “Tim, sir!”

RCOSD: “So, Timmy, how does it feel to be here tonight, seeing one of Glasgow’s finest in action?”

Fan: “It’s real great, sir.”

RCOSD: “Of course it is, because I’m the One Man Army, and no one…’scuse me a minute.”

As RCOSD and the fan were talking, A-Train was sneaking up from behind, hoping to catch RCOSD off guard. RCOSD, alerted by the drunken ramblings of a nearby fan, turns around and smacks A-Train over the head with the “STOP” sign. With a sickening *CRUNCH*, A-Train topples over to hit the concrete floor hard.

RCOSD: “Sorry, bud. But I’m talkin’ with the people fer a minute. Yer gonna have to wait a bit.”

The crowd laughs.

JHA: “Oh, shut up, ya bunch of drunkheads.”
JFA: “Better make sure you don’t catch RCOSD spouting that stuff.”
JHA: “Why? What’s he gonna do?”
JHA: “Probably what he’s about to do to the A-Train. Only you’re not as likely to get any chance to heal up about it.”

RCOSD: “Sorry, there, Timmy boy, but dear old RCOSD’s gotta go pound the daylights outta this welp, here. I’ll tell ya what, though. You come backstage afterwards and I’ll give ya an autograph, K?”

Ruffling the kid’s hair, RCOSD turns his attention back to A-Train, whose head now has a deep gash in it, spewing blood everywhere. The One Man Army picks up the limp and batted body, and tosses it over the security railing. After delivering a series of kicks to the de-railed A-Train, RCOSD picks up and slides the “STOP” sign into the ring, following up by sliding A-Train’s body into the ring.

JFA: “And the ref’s signalling for the bell. Hard to believe that so much has happened even before the match began.”
JHA: “Guess that means this will be over soon. I don’t think that A-Train can take much more of this.”
JFA: “Picking up A-Train now…and HELL SMACK! Hell Smack on A-Train. The crowd erupts in a frenzy! They’re really behind The One Man Army here!”
JHA: “Figures. Seals usually hoot and holler every time they get fed.”
JFA: “And now RCOSD picking up the “STOP” sign…sliding it into the middle of the ring…and now picking up A-Train’s body…oh, god! Don’t tell me! BASEMENT BREAKER ON THE STOP SIGN! BASEMENT BREAKER TO A-TRAIN ON THE STOP SIGN!”
JHA: “And the crowd goes wild!”
JFA: “RCOSD with the pin…1…2…3! RCOSD RETAINS!”
JFA: “I just said that, you idiot!”
JHA: “Really? I couldn’t tell. The seals are squealing too loud!”
JFA: "Goodnight, folks! We'll see you next week!"

AWF Warzone
2003-10-12, 10:52 PM
Matches confirmed for next week’s Warzone include:

UPF vs. Morpheus in a steel cage match!

TV Champion Amarant Odinson defends the title against the returning Jetfire!

Hometown boy Computron challenges the One Man Army RCOSD for the Hardcore Championship!

A huge over-the-top-rope battle royal to determine two of the members of Team Warzone for Autumn Annhiliation!

PLUS - a defence of the Tag Team Championship and much, much more!!

15th October 2003, from Ninian Park, Cardiff. Live, only on TFA Network!

Silly Cow
2003-10-12, 11:04 PM
Lock, you tried to bring Silly Cow back? You tried to bring him back! What made you think you could do that!?! You did not know him! You can't do anything for him! Only I can... or I could. I am not sure if even that's possible anymore...

And UPF. You think you've gone through hell with me? You think I've given everything I've got against you? WRONG! The cage, it will be full of pain. My pain, I will give it to you. You will feel what it is like! The bars will be red, the screams will be of agony, and god help me...I will love it.

Amarant Odinson
2003-10-13, 12:02 AM
OOC: Nice job on Warzone this week. Can't wait to see more.

*Backstage, we see the T.V. champ sitting on a bench with a towel drapped over his head. As he looks up, he sees a RJI with a camera crew heading towards him*

RJI: " Amarant, we'd like to get your reaction about Vaccaro and what he did to you tonight."

*Amarant gets up and takes off the towel.*

A.O. " What do you mean "What he did to me tonight"? I asked for a challenge and that's exactly what I got tonight. Week after week, I go out there and bust my ass in that ring. I go out there to show the world that I am the Best Damn Technical Wrestler out there today. I beat two guys in one match to keep this T.V. Title at Syxx Feet Under....

RJI: " But Amarant, what about tonight?"

A.O. " Where you not paying attention out there? I just went out and beat four guys in row. 4 wrestlers in one night. Tempest didn't even have to do that to become Lord of the Mat. But I went out there into that squared circle and I kept my T.V. title. OPM2005, Ultimate Weapon, UPF and once again D-Exterme, all of them tried but they couldn't beat me tonight.

RJI: So...you LIKED the match?

A.O. "It was tough but I wanted to improve my skills and show the everyone here just why I am the AWF T.V. Champion. And I did that tonight. This is not a joke. I'm here to stay and this title is here to stay around my waist.

RJI: What about the upcoming Wargames between Warzone and Mayhem?

A.O.: " It should be painfully obvious to you, the fans and the guys in the back that Warzone has the better talent. We'll prove it too just like we always do. G91, Cyberpunk, Tapedeck and his little cassettes, none of them has what it takes to make it here on Warzone. That why they're all over there on that "other show" They want to make life easier for themselves on Mayhem. While guys like the GPA, the Tag Champs: Blood and Thunder, D-Extreme and the Hardcore Champ: RCOSD are over here with me. Where the real wrestlers are. Where the true talent is.
At Wargames, Warzone's team will win without a shadow of a doubt. We beat them all out of the AWF simply because the boys Mayhem.... THEY CAN'T DO THAT."

RJI: One more thing Amarant, what about your upcoming match next week against Jetfire?

A.O.: Jetfire, I'm glad your back but you picked the wrong man to go after. If you want this T.V. Title, you're gong have to kill me for it. Bring everything you got to the table, boy. Because next week will be your chance to do what very few have ever done. I dare you to PROVE ME WRONG.

2003-10-13, 02:59 AM
Well well well, seems as though some boys in the back want to mock me for tapping to the game and a barbed wire baseball bat.

Odd, seems to me that I took one hell of a beating in that match so surrendering before my career was ended was the logical thing to do.

But anyway, let's face it if there is another War Games match, you need Big Daddy Rav.

And one this is for sure this time I won't tap out.

2003-10-13, 03:22 AM
Originally posted by Ravage

And one this is for sure this time I won't tap out.

And you said that last year, and we all know what happened.

You wanna talk about who is needed on team Warzone. Everyone on this show, hell, everyone in this company knows that if there is one Warzone superstar that is to be on the War Games roster. It's none other than The Whole F*cking Show, himself, Thundercracker. I know it, the announcers know it, and Vaccaro himself knows it. I'm more versatile and dangerous than any other superstar out there today. I'm one of the only men to ever take the Game to the limits. I'm a former AWF Heavyweight Champion, and all around great wrestler. So there really is only one logical choice here...and that is to make me, part of Team Warzone

2003-10-13, 03:32 AM
Fear not, my friend, the TCA will stand and represent Warzone, of that you can be sure...The Game is gonna eat mat baby, that's the other thing you can take to the bank. We will take down whatever ragtag bunch of fools they put together and bring the glory back to Warzone...following shortly after, the AWF Championship...oh yes.

2003-10-13, 04:43 AM
Ok TC, but remember one thing War Games was a team effort not to place the blame on anyone else, but nobody on team CWO tried to make a save.

But otherwise I am not going to bitch about it, a loss is a loss and thats that. I am not ashamed of it and if I can make up for that loss great.

Hell, I think you red and me would make a hell of a team. But we shall see.

2003-10-13, 07:44 AM
The Game is on the phone with Mr. Vaccaro.

Game: "Vaccaro...what is this bullsh*t about me not being allowed to defend on Warzone? What the hell is Reilly pulling here?"

Vaccaro: "Read your contract Game...while you are the AWF Champion and the belt is mutual Mayhem and Warzone property, you're contractually obligated to Mayhem...therefore if Reilly decrees that there is a conflict of interest or a chance that his investment in you could be damaged, he has the right to forbid you to come on this show. You really think I don't want the AWF world title on my show?"

Game: "...Fine...whatever..."

Vaccaro: "Look champ...I am sorry about what happened to you and King at Syxx Feet Under..."

Game: "I know you had no part of that...I just ask that you find a way to get that little chode smoker the Red Meanie in the War Games...cause when I get done with him...they'll have to use dental records to id the body..."

2003-10-13, 08:20 AM
OOC: great show! I like it!

D-Ex: Well now I might have lost again but the truth is, Warzone is the place where talents like Me..and the so called 'better talents who just beaten me by a cheap shot' like Amarant truly knows what makes a "good" show.."GREAT"! I mean Mayhem might be the first show here on the AWF but make no mistake that here on Warzone we get the better talent. Hell Mayhem are for loser hasbeens like Blaster and Cyberstrike heck almost all of them are..well except for Scout and Game though.

So next week I;m gonna put my heart and soul into that battle royal and be one of the 2 left standing! Cause I am the Xtreme. And I put the Xtreme in Warzone when needed as well!!!

2003-10-13, 10:25 AM
OOC: Kick ass Warzone!

IC: HA, one week I win the LOTM, the next I destroy Starscreamer, After that I try and fight my own against the punks from T.C.A., then after that I beat you all in a Fatal Fourway match, before Syxx Feet Under. But at Syxx Feet Under I got screwed over by the everyone that got in my way. So NEXT week I'm going to enter myself at the Royal Rumble for the 2 spots for the War Game, because at the War Games, I'm going to lead Team Warzone to Victory. I would be honoured to fight aside with Amarant, who tonight proved himself a worthly oppenent indeed. Plus it would be good to fight with Blood & Thunder who are the Current Tag Team Champions.

As You have Said Vaccaro, the title is now on Mayhem only, The current Champ is the there Team Captain, but who is ours? Why don't you make me, The loyal member to the Warzone roster, rather though, you haven't been giving me any good competition, the The Big Scouse Machine didn't last long.

So as I said make me the Warzone team captain, BUT thats only if I get into the royal rumble match, All I need is to get in, cause I know I'll win.

2003-10-13, 10:38 AM
OOC: Loiked it. Loiked it lots. Good work folkses.


Lord Zarak
2003-10-13, 10:55 AM
There will be a nightmare at Old Trafford if three things occur:

1) B&T lose the Tag Titles because of a, and I quote Vaccaro here, "contentious issue".

2) We lose the Tag Titles before hand in Cardiff

3) Arsenal are still top of the League.

Now, if this legal issue isnt resolved Vaccaro, we have your blood scent ready, my good man. I speak for myself and Wolfy here.

2003-10-13, 11:01 AM
IC: TCA will represent Warzone in War Games? You're basing that on the assumption that you are going to win the AWF Tag Team Titles. It isn't gonna happen. I don't know who the team will be, but Jetfire & Computron or Zarak and myself will constitute two-fifths.

As far as anything else goes, see what my tag team partner said.

Lord Zarak
2003-10-13, 01:56 PM
ooc- didnt read the whole show before posting. Apologies, and I request that you disregard the first point I make. Now, I go into character.


Compufire be the Tag Champs? TCA be the Tag Champs? Theres more chance of finding a virgin prostitute in a brothel than those two bunches of reprobates beating us!

2003-10-13, 09:19 PM
You shouldn't worry about compucr@p or the whole TCA Zarak. All you need to know is that the NWA will be the Tag Team champs by War Games. We have let you have your fun and we have let you run with the titles for long enough. Now we are sick of watching you two parade around thinking you are the best and we intend to put a stop to it once and for all. We are going to get our titles back and we will be in War Games with the rest of TCA and there is nothing you can do about it.


2003-10-13, 10:35 PM
IC: Divebomb? Yes you, jackass. I got two-hundred bucks and a Tag Team title belt says the NWA won't beat Blood & Thunder.

2003-10-14, 12:44 AM

Yo "brave" max!

I'm sick of yo games kid, lites on, lites off? make up you're mind.

so you wanna try and take out homeslice like you did Vin?
well guess what son? i was the man behind the Ghostal he was just a puppet and i was da master! holla at dat!

so dats why at the next PPV, Viewfind the human horror film vs Bitch maxxxxxxxxx! in a house of horrors match.

holla back!

2003-10-14, 03:07 AM
Ok then, if we will not beat you then we will beat who ever does and the result will be the same, we will be the Tag Team champs and we will still be in War Games.

Listen now, all joking and smack talk aside for a moment. We are the best and we will always be the best and the Tag Titles are ours and it is just a matter of time until we get them back. Blood and Thunder, Doomsday is Coming.........

Ultimate Weapon
2003-10-14, 06:00 AM
OOC: Terrific show!

IC: I was this close *index finger and thumb an inch apart* from facing you UPF! Don't think that I have forgotten my huge upset when I beat Morpheus with the help of your steel chair to the back of his head! Thats just as bad as losing a match! Our time will come when I lay you down 1-2-3. Trust me the time is nearer than you think, we stand upon the razors edge.

*chomps toothpick*

*walks away*

2003-10-14, 05:48 PM
OOC: Great Warzone!

OP2005: Pity i didn't win, RIGHT HERE IN GLASGOW! But one day it might... no...

*Op turns to the cloth as if it is talking to him*


2003-10-15, 12:26 AM
IC: These Tag Titles? These are yours? Funny... this says 'AWF'... not 'NWA'. And these little nameplates? This one currently reads 'Wolfang'... the other currently reads 'Black Zarak'. You want any more proof that these aren't your belts, I suggest you consult the AWF 2003 Almanac when it comes out in January, or go talk to the company lawyers.

2003-10-15, 01:00 AM
Just you wait. You will see what happens to people that oppose the NWA.

Doomsday is Coming.........

2003-10-15, 01:27 AM
IC: See what happens to people who oppose the NWA? Listen, Divebomb... you have experienced firsthand what happens when you screw with Blood & Thunder.

At Overdrive, you refused to cooperate. You cost me an opportunity; an opportunity to be in the ArchiveBowl and get a shot at the AWF Championship. What did you get? A Deathstalker.

Blood & Thunder faced the NWA for the Tag Team titles. P? got a concussion and we got the tag titles.

I blasted P? with the Crimson Twilight on Warzone about a month back. I took a beating from you and P? still managed to keep the belts... practically on my own for the entire match because you and your erstwhile tag partner didn't have the testicular fortitude to face Blood & Thunder.

What happens to people who oppose the NWA? They save money on gym memberships by getting free punchbags.

Choke on that, bitchboy.

2003-10-15, 02:47 AM
You lasted on your own the whole match. We wern't going for the belts if you had realized. We went in there with one purpose. To beat the hell out of you. That wasn't a match, it was a beating. You survived, I'll give you that, but that wasn't a match and hitting P? with the crimson twilight, oh no not the crimson twilight. Wolfang stuff a sock in it. You will lose, we will win, and you will no longer be the tag team champs. This war is far from over but when it ends the only team left standing will be the one that have been friends from cradle to now, The NWA.

2003-10-15, 10:30 AM
Hey Redstreak, you were lucky there, you cheated and you damm near made a lotof women unhappy. However, being the infinitly supererior wrestler to you I'm not angry, you see I see this as nothing more than a stumble, I was superior to you in the ring up until you went for the low blow and got those other loosers you fondly call your homies.

However despite my lack of anger towards you I still can't allow this sort of attack to go unpunnished so as soon as my lovely ladies have kissed the damaged area from that fight better you had better watch your back cause Computron, the hottest thing currently in the AWF is gonna make an example out of you!!!

2003-10-16, 03:41 AM
OOC: now why couldnt Mayhem have visited paradise? i mean Ibrox! i even have a move named after the place!!

great show by the way guys and gals!

Lord Zarak
2003-10-16, 11:35 AM
Originally posted by Divebomb
This war is far from over

You've got that one right Divebomb. Perhaps the most astute thing you said in that mini ramble of yours. There is no way that we will ever, ever lose the titles to you.

*polishes Black Zarak on his belt*

You see, the NWA are going backwards. We have raised the game to another level, and you just cannot cope. So, I suggest you go to the gym and pay for punchbags, instead of taking your frustration out on us two. Thats if you have the intelligence to.

2003-10-16, 09:51 PM
IC: Zarak... as is quite a frequent occurance in these parts... is right.

Seriously, Divebomb, if you want to go on and on and on ad nauseum about how great the NWA are, then you go right ahead. The fact that you need to have your assistance from TCA pretty much quells any substance the arguement (such as is) has.

2003-10-16, 10:14 PM
Wolf tell me when I have ever asked for assistance from anyone. Come on tell me. The truth of the matter is that by having assistance in a match it has cost us more than it has helped us. But sh!t happens.

The truth of the matter is that we know we could beat you two and you know we could beat you two and that is why we haven't had a real shot at our belts and don't say we have cause that, as I stated before was just us wanting to beat the hell out of you two. Anyplace, Anytime, Anywhere, in any match we could and are very willing to beat the two of you to regain or gold.

Thats it. Thats all I have to say and that is all I am going to say. The ball is in your court and it is up to you to answer the call and show us if you have the balls to put the gold up against your only True competition in the AWF.

The End.......

2003-10-16, 11:03 PM
Originally posted by Computron
Hey Redstreak, you were lucky there, you cheated and you damm near made a lotof women unhappy. However, being the infinitly supererior wrestler to you I'm not angry, you see I see this as nothing more than a stumble, I was superior to you in the ring up until you went for the low blow and got those other loosers you fondly call your homies.

However despite my lack of anger towards you I still can't allow this sort of attack to go unpunnished so as soon as my lovely ladies have kissed the damaged area from that fight better you had better watch your back cause Computron, the hottest thing currently in the AWF is gonna make an example out of you!!!

Everyone thinks they're a pimp...see Compy, you aren't even in my league...you don't strive to be number one, you weren't the first overall draft pick by Warzone. None of it. You and yer boy Jets seem to follow each other everywhere...kinda funny, that. If it goes as I think and the NWA goes to face the tag champs, then I'll be more than happy to take you down in the wargames brawl...then you'll learn that TCA is the premiere alliance of superstars out there, and why we will OWN Warzone...

You'll just be another footnote when we stand over the Mayhem bastards, victorious, and prove what I just said to be true.

Know it. Respect it. Fear it.

Believe it.

Lord Zarak
2003-10-19, 11:58 AM
Originally posted by Divebomb

Thats it. Thats all I have to say and that is all I am going to say. The ball is in your court and it is up to you to answer the call and show us if you have the balls to put the gold up against your only True competition in the AWF.

We did.

We beat you.

2003-10-19, 11:00 PM
IC: Yeah... but only after they beat me up. Or so they thought. You see, I've taken beatings from second rate stooges, and fourth-rate self-proclaimed tough guys like Divebomb and P? I can absorb a hell of a lot more.

2003-10-20, 12:10 AM
Just shut up and get in the ring and lets see what happens.

Lord Zarak
2003-10-20, 10:08 AM
Only too happy to oblige, again, and beat you, again.

See you at Warzone.