Housefly vs James Irish vs Roderick McRatrick vs Andrew Gilkison vs Haven vs Freakshow vs Duchess vs Cross vs Slambo the Clown vs Suicidal Killer vs Eddie Weston vs Jack Gilkison vs Prisoner 187

Rules of the Pier 6 Brawl- A sea of barbwire is placed outside of the ring as the match starts off with two competitors. Every two minutes another random wrestlers will join the match that is in progress. The only way to be eliminated from this match is if you are tossed over the top rope and land in the sea of barbwire.

Due to the stipulations of losing the #1 Contenders Match for the World Title several weeks ago, Duchess alone will be the very first person to enter the ring, and thus statistcally have the worst chance of winning the Pier 6 Brawl... Although that doesn't mean much anything can happen in these types of matches.

After every competitor has entered the ring, the match will continue until there are only two men left standing in the ring. Once there are two men left standing in the ring, as Hell in the Cell will lower from the ceiling, covering both the ring and the sea of barbwire. From then on the first man to exit the Hell in a Cell will be the winner of the Pier 6 Brawl, and will be named the #1 Contender for the A1E World Heavyweight Title at A1E's next PPV, A1E's Sudden Death!


A new promo thread for the Pier 6 Brawl will be posted every other day or so. When the new promo threads are posted, please post your promos in that thread only!


Check profiles if needed...

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Roderick McRatrick is STILL sitting on the pier, waiting for everyone to show up.

RMR: Man, when is everyone going to show up? I mean, I know I'm early, but you'd think someone would have the same idea I had. I mean, any other idea I have, someone else has too. I mean, I remember the time I was throwing Cub Scouts into the LaBrea Tar Pits, and bam, who do I see when I got there, throwing Cub Scouts into the LaBrea Tar Pits? Kobe Bryant. Sheesh. It's hard being me. Maybe Squiggy was right...

Man, I've gotten so low, I'm talking to myself.

Suddenly, a ghostly figure appears from the mist.

Ghost: You're not talking to yourself. I've been listening to you the whole time.

RMR: Wow! It's the ghost of Steve Guttenberg! Wow!

Ghost: Yes, it's true, I have assumed the role of the Ghost of Pier Six past.

RMR: Really? If you're the Ghost of Pier Six past, why are you dressed up like a flaming homo?

GoSG: I'm dressed like Gladiator, you twit.

RMR: Oh... and I didn't know Steve Guttenberg was dead.

GoSG: Well, I'm not dead, but my career is!

RMR: Well, that make sense.

GoSG: Yeah...

awkward silence

RMR: So, how 'bout those Las Vegas Outlaws?

GoSG: Dude, the XFL has been defunct for like three years now.

RMR: Oh, you're... you're right.

GoSG: Listen, you have to listen to me. If you want to win the Pier Six Brawl, you have to make your way to the arena.

RMR: Arena? But why... why the arena?

GoSG: Because that's where Bloody New Year and the Pier Six Brawl are being held.

RMR: Oh... what's Bloody New Year?

GoSG: It's the event that A1E is holding on pay-per-view.

RMR: Oh, okay... well, umm, I have a question, but I'm a little embarrassed to ask, ya know... I mean... umm, what happens when I get that... you know, not so fresh fee...

GoSG: Oh now you're just being foul. YOU HAVE TO GET TO THE ARENA OR YOU'LL FACE GRAVE DANGER!!!

RMR: GRAVE DANGER? OH NOS!!!1 Liek, graev dangre like the ninjas who have REAL ULTIMATE POWER?

cue ominous music

GoSG: No, you id... I mean, yes. That.

RMR: HOLY CRAP! I HAVE TO GET TO THE ARENA! Thanks Ghost of Steve Guttenberg!

GoSG: Hey, don't mention it.

Roderick runs off camera.

GoSG: Alright, now that that's done, time to change into my zombie outfit to appear in a Vreck Stone segment...

The Ghost of Steve Guttenberg floats off into the fog.

Darkness, empty, cold, almost life draining. It hairs in the air as it it a predator waiting to suck out the soul of its next prey. Drops of water can be heard landing on a cement floor. The camera travels down a long hallway, illuminated by random lights placed on the wall giving off a flickering pale yellow light. Slowly the as the camera reaches the end of the hall we see Haven sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. His arm is still wrapped with barbwire as we see his arm is covered with both, both fresh and dried. The camera zooms in on Haven as he begins to speak.

Haven- Yes, little rabbit, come on rushing to the arena. Come rushing straight to the jaws of your f**king death.

You know nothing of torture you're going to get once you hit that ring. The pain that will be there to f**king greet you. Or how you will instantly be skinned alive as you quickly will be drowning in a pool of your own f**king blood.

Haven flashes his sick smirk.

You will be broken, little rabbit, you will suffer. Just as the other mother f**kers in this match are going to suffer.

Like that b**ch 187 is going to suffer. That b**ch seems to think he is a man to be afraid of. The fly once even told me that he once was a man who this entire company even feared.

A low, gutteral, chuckle escapes his lips and echos through the hallway.

He looks like a f**king pussy to me.

Maybe to these f**king rabbits, b**ch, you are a bad man. You might hold them in fear. But I am not impressed.

We'll soon see how tough you are, 187, after I tear out your eyes and shove them down your f**king throat. Then you can go back to living in darkness for the rest of your useless, pathetic, life.

Haven lets out another low, gutteral, chuckle.

And then there is your bastard offspring...

The clown...

I really can't wait until I get my hands on you, clown. As I've heard that you are a sick mother f**ker in that ring. That you have created such violence, and chaos, in that ring to degree where it is almost legendary.

I still don't see it though. It seems you can take one hell of a beating though. As you are nothing more than a small dog, tied to a stake in the middle of the yard, who was kicked way too much. Or that of a child who shouldn't have asked his dad how his day was before then damn near getting beaten to death with a lead pipe.

You are no threat, clown, you are nothing more than a f**king punching bag. A rodent who deserves to finally be put of its misery.

Haven lets out another low, gutteral, laugh.

Unfortunately for you, clown, you'll have to find some other pathetic rabbit to become your savior. To take you out of your misery.

As I'm going to continue to add to your f**king suffering...

Pain is like breathing for you?

Good.

His sick grin grows wider on his face. A looks of sick pleasure is dancing in his eyes.

Lets see how well you f**king breath when you are coughing up on your own blood as I wrap barbwire around your throat and pull back. As I then watch as your eyes bulge out of your head. As the razor sharp wire start to slice through your neck.

And I take your f**king head right off your body!!

Haven lets out his sick laugh yet again.

Oh it will be a fun time, clown, it will be oh so fun...

Haven pauses slightly before continuing.

And then we go to the other bastard child of 187. The little rabbit called Mikey. Another little rabbit who has no idea of the f**king torture he is going to be experiancing in that ring...

Haven lifts his head and looks directly into the camera.

I have dealt with your kind before little rabbit. As you remind me alot of those other two wastes of a lives that I had the pleasure of f**king breaking down into nothing. The two little rabbits that the fly gave me break down for him as he was off playing in his Empire...

The rabbits of Jeff Bishop and Alex Chavez... I beleived they called themselves the Fallen Angels...

Oh I had a great time of breaking them. I loved hearing their screams. I loved the sounds that they made when they begged for mercy. When the whimpers began and the snot started pouring out of their noses as it mixed in with their blood as it landed on the floor...

You remind me so much of them. As Bishop eventually had a habit of f**king a steel chair. And its obvious you are employing the same relationship with that 4x4 of yours.

I'll break you, little rabbit, just like I broke them. I can't wait to hear your screams as well. I can't wait to see your teeth fly out of your mouth as I crush your jaw!

Not even the teachings of your pathetic master can save you. Your little body armor that you created for yourself won't f**king help you either.

You are nothing more than a little worm. Just like that useless b**ch of Eddie Weston...

That rabbit Weston will soon realize that he won't be in any condition to go after Torment, win or lose, after I get my hands on him. It'll be hard to get revenge on a man when your are paralyzed from the neck down after I rip out your f**king spinal cord...

A cold, scary, look of intensity is seen dancing in his eyes.

You want to bash my head in with a lead pipe, boy?

Suddenly Haven drives his fist, the one wrapped barbwire, into his right temple. A sickening smack echos through the hallway. Haven doesn't let up though. He fires punch after punch into his eyebrow. Quickly blood is spraying into the air after each punch. Finally he stops and pulls his fist away from his head. We can see that his eyebrow is busted wide open. The blood starts to pour down into his eye. Haven grits his teeth in pain before he then points to his open wound.

Come and try then, little rabbit. I'll even let you take the first f**king shot. Hit me right here. Hit me with everything you f**king got. If you are man enough to stand toe to toe with me.

Haven shakes his head.

But I don't think you are man enough. I think you are nothing more than a f**king coward. I think you'll only strike when my back is turned.

Fine... As the fly says often... So be it.

Haven then leans forward before driving his head back into the concrete wall! A sickening thud echos through the air. Haven flinches in pain, before leaning forward again, and once again driving his head back into the wall. Haven lets out a sick, painful, laugh as he reaches back and grips his head. He pulls his hand away from his head and smiles as he sees fresh blood on his fingertips. Haven looks into the camera, as we can clearly see pain dancing in his eyes, as he tilts his head.

There you go, little rabbit, I made a f**king target there for you as well. Lets see you hit it. You better hope you make it f**king count too. Because if you don't?

Haven lets out a sick laugh.

Then its my turn. As I will get the pleasure of turning your face into a bloody mush as I drive that lead pipe into over, and over, and over again. As then you will spend the rest of your f**king life eating all of your meals through a f**king straw.

Haven's smirk then fades. He closes his eyes as he flinces in pain. He shakes his head before opening his eyes. A cold look of death is seen in his eyes. He continues on...

Now, for the rabbit who has lost his faith in god, Cross.

A low, gutteral, chuckle escapes Haven's lips.

Don't worry, little rabbit, I haven't forgotten about you. Not like your f**king god has. Unlike him I won't turn my back on you after pissing in your face.

I'm more than ready to get into your face before then smashing it open. To unleash your screams as you face your own crucifiction.

Instead of a crown of thorns it will be made of barbwire as drive it into your skull.

I'll shove nails into each of your vital organs.

As I will then break each and everyone of yours bones...

Haven glares into the camera.

After I am through with you, rabbit, unlike your former master you will not rise from the dead. And if you do! I will gladly tear you apart all over again! As you are nothing more than my plaything to do as I wish.

Haven smirks.

Just like Duchess.

She is nothing more than a f**king barbie doll. Dressed up in pathetically awful looking clothes. Obviously enhanced in all areas by cheap plastic.

You can't fool me, little rabbit, inside you are f**king ugly. You try to hide your misery by buying clothes. By getting dressed up. As you strive to be perfect. You try to hide who you really are, even from yourself.

Haven shakes his head.

Its sickening really.

I can't wait to get my hands on you. To tear into your flesh. To bring that misery out of you. After I am through with you, little rabbit, you'll be the mirror image of your inner beauty. The way you should look.

Haven flashes his sick grin.

With your face full of scars, your nose missing, your hair set on fire, and all your fingers broken. As you will then be the ugly hag that you are forever...

Not even putting more plastic into your f**king body will save you you f**king whore.

Speaking of whores. It seems that rabbit, Irish, has gotten a new one. Hopefully, little rabbit, you bring her to the ring as well. I'll enjoy slicing her face open just as I did with Duchess...

Hell, maybe I'll even make a real woman out of her...

And when I am through with her, little rabbit, thats when I'll start working on you. And you'll see up close and personal of how f**king violent I can be. You'll be begging me to put you out of your misery. You'll be begging for me to throw you face first into that sea of barbwire...

Haven laughs before pausing. He stretches his neck as if trying to listen for something.

It's quiet.

To f**king quiet.

Haven slowly, shakily, gets to his feet. He places one hand on the wall to help him keep his balance. He glares off into the darkness. A sick smirks forms on his lips.

Now the real f**king fun begins.

Haven then walks into the darkness. As the darkness swallows him whole. The cameras remain where they are before then slowly fading to black.

***Duchess is once more in the lobby of the Manchester Hilton, she is dressed in a long black skirt, a pale blue silk blouse and black boots, her long blonde hair is pulled back in a French braid tied with a blue bow. Turning toward the camera she begins to speak.***

Prisoner, you didn’t like my pink outfit, and I hate red, how about blue, pretty isn’t it.

It is interesting in a match like this you get to find out how many different ways your opponents can insult you, fortunately, my opponents aren’t that intelligent. I mean really how many different ways can you say bimbo or whore. Please like I haven’t heard that sort of crap before, you’d think that just once someone would think of something just a bit more original, but since they can’t seem to bother, why should I, right. Well, because, the same old stuff is boring, really truly boring. So moving on.

Sometime you just have to wonder why some folks are walking around loose in polite society, I mean really talk about your sociopaths. This Haven guy, exactly what kind of a nut case let this freak loose on the world. Oh wait, I remember it was Fly, during his big bad Fly, Emperor of the World period. Let him clean up his own mess, don’t foist it on the rest of us to clean up.

I get this impression I’m supposed to be afraid of Haven because of what exactly, well, I’m not really sure, maybe his over use of foul language, or maybe his dislike of my wardrobe, please that only proves he has perfectly horrible taste, which while being an awful personality trait is nothing to be afraid of, so if it’s not those things what could it possibly be. Truthfully, nothing, there is nothing about watching a whacked out nut job bashing his head into a wall then ranting and raving that is going to scare me, sorry Haven, I know you’re trying, try harder.

Then there is Eddie Weston whining and complaining because nobody is paying attention to him, well sorry buddy but in the annuals of the A1E sociopaths you pretty much come in a distant 4th or maybe 5th depend on whether not you count the clown . I mean really son, you have this Haven, a real nut job, Prisoner 187, who also dissed my wardrobe, must be a trait of sociopaths, Jack Gilkison, new to A1E but trust me not a nice person, and the psycho clown, and you want to get noticed in that crowd. All you did was beat up some kid in the audience, real small potatoes. Like I said before try harder.

To be perfectly honest I’m really hoping that James and Roderick make it to the arena on time, it would be nice for a couple of reasonably sane people, excluding Roderick of course, to make it to this event. Maybe a couple of folks without an agenda, that might be nice to see for a change, perhaps even someone who doesn’t want to maim or kill everybody, yeah that would be a pleasant turn of events.

Well is you’ll excuse me I have an appointment at the spa, if as everyone suggests I’m going to be folded, spindled and mutilated, I might as well feel great before hand, right.


Tata

***With a small wave to the camera, Duchess, enters an elevator, pushes a button and the door closes***


jem

(Prisoner #187 is carrying his bag of treats and Mikey - still decked out in his Pier 6 Brawl outfit - hitchhike to the nearest airport. The sun is setting and the time is ticking...)

PRISONER #187: Actually blue isn't a bad color, and neither is black actually.

(#187 forms a disturbing smile)

#187: Especially since you'll be covered in those colors come Brawl time. And make note I'm not talking about the color of your clothes, but the color of your skin as I will beat you to that color if you get in my way.

MIKEY: Boss do I look ok in this outfit? I mean I don't look stupid or anything do I?

(#187 just ignores Mikey and continues talking)

Duchess I'm unhappy... I'm unhappy at the fact you dislike the color red, because you'll be seeing a lot of it during the match.

Most likely Duchess, that color will be dripping from the corner of your lips, it will be leaking out from your eyes, and then pouring from the wounds on your black and blue skin as the barbwire around you're perfect body punctures your beautiful skin, slowly at first.. then as you try to struggle it begins to rip, and then rip even more, as the razor sharp blades dig deep into the bone, and you'll scream till you can't scream no more. You'll just lie there within the sea of madness.

MIKEY: Come on... Is my outfit really that bad??? Maven seems to think so.. (Mikey mumbles something under his breath) .. Stupid Maven what does he know..

(#187 again just ignores Mikey)

This is the portrait that will be painted for you Duchess if you cross me. It is a painting of what will happen when you get tossed out of that ring.

A hard thought to take in I know, but it truly shows the dangers that lie ahead of you, and no matter how hard it is for you to swallow, this match is not meant for those with weak stomachs.

It's pure and simple Duchess. You have to survive 12 superstars, all 12 because you are teh first to enter.

MIKEY: BOSS!!!!!!!!

(#187 finally takes notice of Mikey)

#187: If you don't shut up I'm going to gag you to death with one of your dirty socks.

MIKEY: ...

#187: Mikey it wouldn't matter if you dressed in a tu-tu, your blood will still splatter and your bones will still break just like everyone elses. I just let you dress up because I thought you needed the confidence.

MIKEY: Oh.. ok then.

#187: Duchess, you can make yourself look as beautiful as you want, get all pretty for the match, but afterwards, I'll show you beauty is only skin deep when you leave that match covered in your own blood.

(#187 gives a sadistic smile)

(Static occupies the A1Etron for 5 seconds... Click... The camera seems to be positioned outside of Housefly's dressing room. A hand comes off screen to knock on the door. Fly's muffled voice can be heard...)

HF: Come in...

(The door opens as the camera then heads into the dressing room. There we see Housefly, dressed in his black cargo pants, white sleeveless hooded sweatshirt, and black housefly logoed baseball cap, standing in front of two monitors. The first monitor is tuned into the A1E network as Fly keeps an eye on each interview dealing with the Pier 6 Brawl. On the other monitor we see that it is playing the inaugural Pier 6 Brawl in 2002, the one where Big Dog won it. Fly keeps his eyes on the monitors as he doesn't say a word for a long moment. All we can hear is his slow, and steady, breathing. Then, without looking at the camera, Fly begins to speak...)

No matter how many times this fly watches each of the Pier 6 Brawls over the past three years to try to get a feel for this match, the more this fly realizes that watching these tapes is going to be utterly useless when its time to step through those ropes...

Each Pier 6 Brawl has a different flow, a different personality, about them. Each one is vastly different than the one before it. The only thing that remains the same is that it is very unpredictable.

There is nothing anyone can do to secure an outcome...

(Fly smirks...)

It is definately going to be a challenge to walk out of the brawl as a winner. But this fly loves challenges like that. This fly excels at them....

Now, onto the matters at hand, it appears that Duchess has mentioned how this fly brought the man known as Haven into this company...

(Fly nods to himself...)

Unfortunately that is very true...

This fly did bring that man into A1E because he was the last man that this fly could trust within this company after Gladiator stabbed this fly in the back and attempted to throw him out of the Empire...

It is something that this fly did not particularly wanted to do. As this fly knew the ramifications of bringing in the psycho into this company. Knowing how he couldn't be contained. Knowing how he's a threat to everyone, including himself, once he has stepped through those doors...

(Fly shrugs to himself...)

But sometimes, Duchess, when you are the middle of the war with someone you can't stand you pull out your most deadly weapons to ensure your victory... Your very own survival...

Sadly this fly doubts he could stop Haven now even if he tried... The most this fly can do is slow him down, enough to get a victory, but nothing more...

One just hopes Haven ends up killing himself somewhere along the way to put him out of our misery...

(Fly glances at the camera...)

And hopefully that happens during the Pier 6 Brawl...

(Fly returns his gaze towards the monitors...)

Until then this fly suggests to stay out of his way and simply pick your spots to strike him. Pray that you are able to elminate the ugly son of a bitch early... Or he will hurt you. This fly has seen up close and personal of what that monster can do...

(Fly smirks slightly...)

As for this fly though, Duchess, he is not out to hurt you. To maim you. Or even to make you suffer in any major way...

(Fly glares at the camera...)

The only thing this fly is going to do when its time for the two of us to stand toe to toe in that ring is strike you down to that mat, beat you down until you can hardly move, and then toss you into that sea of barbwire...

Why?

Because that is what it takes to win this match. And that is what this fly must do...

(Fly chuckles..)

And because this fly knows that there is nothing you can do to stop him...

(Fly's smirk quickly fades as he sends an ice cold glare to the camera...)

As for Haven...

This fly knows its only a matter of time before he and this fly are meant to stand toe to toe in the middle of that ring...

And this fly knows it won't be easy, far from it actuall, but this fly will toss you into that sea of barbwire Haven. This fly will make sure that you will get your euphoric bliss of pain as you are laying in that barbwire...

(Fly slowly turns his head and once again watches the monitors...)

As for Prisoner 187...

(Fly slowly shakes his head...)

You truely are a shell of your former self, aren't you?

It truely is laughable at what you have become..

A coward...

A little sniveling coward who now stands behinds others to get the job done for you...

You say that you are going to leave this fly out to the wolves, as they attempt to rip this fly into peices, as you then wait for the remains afterwards...

(Fly chuckles...)

This fly remembers when you perfered to face people at their best, 187, when you could prove without a shadow of a doubt that you were better than them...

(Fly slowly turns his head and looks at the camera. It almost looks like a look of sorrow is seen dancing in his eyes...)

Even though this fly couldn't stand you, 187, hell this fly hated you with every fiber in his being. At least you had a small shred of respect from this fly because you weren't a coward like you are now..

(Fly shrugs and turns back to face the montitors...)

As this fly has said already, 187, you are now a joke...

A laughing stock within this company...

As this fly will prove without a shadow of a doubt if, and when, we ever meet each other during the brawl..

As for your little bitch, Mikey?

He'll be tossed out of the ring long before he even gets a chance to go after Freakshow. He'll understand, up close and personal, why it is that this fly is the King of Flies!

You'll soon understand, Mikey, that just because you really, really, want to actually compare this fly to that of a real common housefly doesn't make it reality...

This fly is a man. Flesh and bone. And he will hurt you...

This fly promises that...

(As the inaugural Pier 6 Brawl ends on the monitor, Fly takes out the DVD, and then places another DVD in the DVD player. Fly presses play as we see that he is playing the 2003 Pier 6 Brawl, the one which Gladiator won. As the brawl starts, on the other monitor A1E Network is replaying Eddie Westons promo. Fly watches it for a brief moment before speaking...)

Ah yes... That reminds me...

Eddie Weston seems to have it stuck in his head that this fly doesn't consider him to be a threat...

That is where you are wrong, young Weston, as in this type of match everyone is a threat. Even you. Even that waste of a life Mikey...

And because you are a threat this fly is going to take you very, very, seriously...

But the fact remains, young Weston, that since you have yet to prove yourself within this company you have no idea who you are stepping into the ring with...

You got your ass kicked already by both Torment and Cross. The most you have done in this company is strike down a defenseless 10 year old child...

The fact remains, Weston, you will have your hands full during the brawl as everyone standing there in that ring with you is no 10 year old child. Roderick McRatrick may have the mentality of a 10 year old, or even perhaps younger, but that is besides the point...

The point is, Weston, you better be on your A game. Otherwise it will be a quick trip for you as you are sailing over that top rope and into that sea of barbwire...

Speaking of Roderick McRatrick...

It appears that he will now offically be part of this Pier 6 Brawl as he is now making his way to the arena...

Excellent...

As this fly would hate to see Roderick miss his oppertunity to take his turn to fly face first into the barbwire...

(Fly pauses for a moment as repeat of a James Irish promo is seen playing over one of his monitors...)

Ah yes, that reminds this fly, Roderick McRatrick isn't the only one who appears to be lost in making his way to the arena...

There seems to be some question of if James Irish will make it to the event on time as well...

As with Roderick, James, this fly hopes you make it to the arena on time. This fly also hopes that you will be well rested, and not distracted by your new friend before the match starts, as this fly doesn't want to hear any excuses after he proves to you that while this fly may have some of an ego...

(Fly turns and glares into the camera...)

... this fly can back his words up. As you will understand that firsthand when you, too, are sent falling into that sea of barbwire...

(Fly pauses for a moment, glances at the montitor of the A1E network, before letting out a sigh...)

Ah, its been awhile since this fly has heard from Andrew Gilkison...

Perhaps Andrew has once again decided that he has had enough of A1E, for some unknown reason, and is once again running out of the company like that of a dog with his tail between his legs...

Perhaps his rage for this fly, or even his lust for the A1E World Heavyweight Title, was not enough for him to stick around this time within this company...

(Fly shrugs...)

Or perhaps Haven, or even Jack Gilkison, has already gotten to poor Andrew and have placed him within a hospital somewhere...

It doesn't matter, perhaps that is the best, as Andrew then doesn't have to suffer the embaressment of once again getting beat by this fly...

(Fly glances at the camera...)

Now, as for Slambo, it seems he appears to be losing his mind... Or, at least, what little of a mind he has left...

Perhaps its the pressure of reality sinking in on him that he is outnumbered within this Pier 6 Brawl, that his goal of winning the brawl is very, very, bleak vision in the horizion. As it is far to much away for him to ever grasp onto...

(Fly chuckles for a moment...)

The clown has made the observation of how this fly has committed sins within this company... Within this life...

(Fly nods slowly...)

And this is true, very true, as this fly has committed more sins than he would ever would like to admit...

In many cases this fly is not proud of what he has done. In others, this fly will commit those very sins all over again if need be...

But when it comes time for this fly to pay for his sins, Clown, it won't be by your hands. You are not the one who is in control of my judgement...

Far from it...

As it is, in reality, that this fly controls over your judgement. Not for your entire life though, as this fly wouldn't want that responsibility even if he could choose to do so, but rather on the eve of the brawl itself....

This fly will be in control of breaking your goals, your dreams, your hopes of walking out of the Pier 6 Brawl in victory. As that simply will not happen.

This fly will see to it that you walk to your Highland Park Social Club in failure...

As you will then see Richard Farnswirth look down on you in disgust, even more so than normal...

Ken Cloverleaf will turn his back on you, never allow you gaze at the A1E World Heavyweight Title, even at a distance, ever again...

And your best friend Chip Friendly?

(Fly chuckles...)

Well, sadly for you, he won't be your best friend anymore. As why would he want a friend like you who managed to fail the HPSC?

He'll turn away from you, and perhaps becomes friends with Juen instead, and mocks you about it every chance he gets...

And then, once again, you'll be all alone...

No friends in your corner...

Nobody who cares about you in the least...

(Fly turns and looks directly into the camera...)

This will happen, Slambo, this fly promises you that...

As this fly will do everything in his power to make sure you are not there at the end when as the victor of the match steps out of that hell...

(Fly smirks...)

For there is nothing you can do, clown, to stop this fly from going on to face your precious hero, Ken Cloverleaf, and take away that A1E World Heavyweight Title...


I am the King of Flies!

(Prisoner #187 is seen doing some last minute packing)

PRISONER #187: Ok I think that's it. Let me go over everything to make sure I'm not missing something.

Pieces of broken glass... check!

20 foot steel chain... check!

battery powered nail gun... check!

sledge hammer... check!

and one bottle of battery acid... check!

(#187 looks over and notices Mikey with the camera, and he immediately slaps Mikey with his back hand)

#187: I told you I don't want to be filmed!!!!

(Mikey shakes off the cobwebs)

MIKEY: But boss what about saying something to your opponents. I thought this would be a good time for you to say something.. you know.. something to strike fear into their hearts.

(#187 just shakes his head)

#187: There you go thinking again. I told you to stop with that stupid shit. I'll say something when "I" want to. I don't care if the rest of A1E runs their mouths about how they plan on taking me out or each other..

MIKEY: But you're the boss! You're "suppose" to be the most feared man in all of A1E.

#187: At one point in time, that was fact. I "was" the most feared individual in all of wrestling, but not now.. because I choose not to be.

MIKEY: But why boss?

#187: I have other issues to deal with, other "priorities" to manage, but making these worms kneel and cower with fear is not one of them. I do not care about such things anymore.

MIKEY: Then what do you care about?

#187: It's not what I care about, it's what I HATE.

MIKEY: ?

#187: I hate Suicidal Killer. I hate A1E. And I will do everything in my power to destroy both of them.

MIKEY: You're going to try to eliminate Sukie fromt he brawl?

#187: Not just eliminate him from the brawl, but permanently.

MIKEY: Oh... that sounds gruesome!

#187: Indeed.

MIKEY: Wait, I thought you hated Fly as well?

#187: Oh him (gives an evil smile), it seems Andy wants to have his fun with the Fly. So let him.

MIKEY: But I thought you wanted to be the one who does Fly in?

#187: You'll learn later down the wonderful road of life Mikey, when you can have someone else do your dirty work for you... you simply let them, and if they do not finish the job, then at least they lightened the load for you.

MIKEY: Oh I see. So if Andy doesn't eliminate the fly then at least he'll weaken him to the point that you could sneeze on him and he'll fall out of the ring.

(#187 smacks Mikey upside the head again)

#187: I'm not going to sneeze on him.

MIKEY: You're not?

#187: No. I'm going to throw him to the wolves and let them have their fun.

MIKEY: You mean the rest of the A1E wrestlers?

#187: Exactly. If fly wants to think he has a target on his back and piss everyone off, then so be it. Let him suffer the consequences.

Now turn that camera OFF!

MIKEY: Oh sorry..

Deep inside the Texas state penitentiary, silence is the only thing you hear along with the clanging of metal. Walking down a dark hallway, passing the cells of the most vicious men of the state of Texas. At the very end of the hall there is a light, not a bright one, but a light that's seeping through the bars of the last cell. Inside of that cell is a monster, standing at a great height of 7 foot 4 and weighing in around 400lbs. The giant simply known as Suicidal Killer is doing dumbbell presses with his customized 150 pound dumbbells. As the giant's arms slowly reach the top he clangs the weights together. His sweaty mask is the only thing covering SK's disfigured face, watching the hatred in his eyes grow as he finishes his set. Dropping the weights carelessly onto the floor, and rising up from his bench hand crafted wooden bench like a dead man rising from the grave

SK: I'm not the one that's on the run old man. You've been running since day one. Always leaving and then popping back up again.

You're like a disease that's not lethal, just damn annoying, like the common cold. And like the common cold, there's no cure or vaccine that could suppress your outlandish behavior. Instead we just have to put up with it for a few days and then you'll drift back off into darkness like the coward you are!

SK straightens up his knee which you notice is still in a metal knee brace

SK: You think I've forgotten about what you did to me? Not to mention this little number you pulled...

SK points out to the camera the extremely disgusting scar on his chest

That night when you attempted to murder me in my own hotel room, you gutted me like a stuff pig and left me to die. But you forget…

(The giant grins in a very psychotic manner)

SK: Wounds heel, they turn to scars, and the scars remind us of our past.

I will not deny my past 187.

I will not deny that you took my soul and almost destroyed it. I won't deny that you tried to make me into your perfect weapon. A killing machine is what you wanted to do your own bidding.

You brainwashed me in believing that I was on the wrong path, that the Warden was nothing but a tool using me to do his own greedy bidding.

But you are just like him 187, nothing but a greedy little piggy. Always using people to get what you want and when you are done with them you'll just toss them to the butchers without remorse.

All those years you tortured people and became the number one enemy of A1E are behind you. It's in the past as are the memories, just like mine are in the past.

But as time passes, you've gotten clumsy. You have forgotten a major rule in your book of madness.

You left me alive. You didn't finish me off.

And here I stand!

SK stands up and it's an unbelievable how big this dude is)

You never were good at getting the job done. Just look at Fly, you couldn't finish him off, you couldn't finish off Beast when you had the chance.

You're washed up old man, and I'm going to finish what you started. Plan to lose a lot of blood at Bloody New Year, because I plan on draining you dry and I won't stop until the Prisoner is no more!

(SK lets out a sick laugh as the camera fades to black)

(The plane lands in Heathrow, and the passengers make their way off of it. Two workers open the loading dock and begin to unload the luggage from the plane, yet what they fail to observe are the two fists coming out of the dark, knocking both of the workers out cold. Prisoner #187 carrying his bag of treats and a slumped over Mikey who's dragging his trusty 4X4 and carrying a portable video camera exit the loading dock and begin to make their way to the arena)

MIKEY: Boss, did you really have to knock out those guys? I mean they didn't do anything to us?

(#187 slaps Mikey upside his head)

PRISONER #187: If you keep making stupid comments I'm going to continue to bitch slap you.

MIKEY: Owwww.. (Mikey rubs the back of his head)

#187: And how many times have I told you not to film me?

MIKEY: But boss, while we were on the plane I overheard some A1E promos being played up in coach, and let me say that there were a lot of them. Most of them had a lot to say about ya.

#187: I told you once I'll tell ya again, I don't care what those mice have to say about me. They can talk all they want about how brutal the match is and about how they know they can survive it.

They have "no idea" what lies ahead.

MIKEY: Really? How do you know that boss?

#187: Because I've been there. I participated in the first inaugural Brawl. I've seen the pain, and I've witnessed the carnage.

MIKEY: But what about Andy G.? He says to watch out for him. He has punched you in the face before.

(#187 just snickers to himelf)

#187: Andy means nothing to me, and if he wants to brawl it out with both Housefly and myself then he's biting off more than he can chew. He forgets at the fist brawl I drove an ice pick through his skull. I guess he still hasn't recovered from the blow.

You have to remember something Mikey, there are people that like to talk the talk, but there are only a few people that can walk it.

MIKEY: Can you walk it boss?

#187: If you're referring to completing the task that I've set before me, which is eliminating that overweight mass of lard - referring to Sukie - from this green earth, then damn right I will! Yet, when that task is done, and the wolves begin focusing their attention on me then that's when the fun really starts, because anyone else I can make bleed, squirm, or twitch with pain is a simple "bonus".

MIKEY: Do you think Fly is a bonus? I mean he's been laying the smack talk on both of us.

(#187 just sneers)

#187: Fly's wearing the unlucky number this week Mikey, manually placing the target on his back, and now everyone's aiming for the bull’s-eye. Fly has always lived in his own little world ever since day one.

MIKEY: Does that have anything to do with that whole "respect" comment he made. I over heard that and almost pee’d myself I was laughing so hard. Fly respecting someone... now that's comical.

(#187 slaps Mikey upside the head)

#187: You're absolutely right he respected me, especially when I kidnapped that bitch of his just to send him over the edge. And not to forget when I almost tore his leg from his socket, turning him almost to a cripple, he really respected me then. And finally when I ripped that gold belt of his from limping body, you're damn right he respected me - something poor little Andy couldn't do I might add.

But that was then. This isn't about respect, and frankly I don't care for it. Fly and everyone else can yap their choppers on and off about how I'm just a "shell" of the man I use to be. It's nothing new I haven't heard before, same shit different person, still all talk.

If and when the time comes Fly when you and I are trading punches back and forth, or even struggling through that sea of pain outside of the ring... You'll come to realize that even though I'm not the same Prisoner when you faced me those years ago, I can still kick your ass.

(#187 smiles sadistically)

MIKEY: That's great boss! Hey but what if little fly boy comes after me? Will you come over and save me? He's not too happy that I've referred to him as a measly ol' fly.

(#187 just snickers)

#187: You're on your own chum.

MIKEY: My own? But what if…?

#187: Listen if you can't back up your words then you shouldn't have made the comments.

MIKEY: Oh man... I'm done for.

#187: Look on the bright side, just hope he doesn't break your arms and legs, wouldn't want to lose those assets.

MIKEY: Why would he break my arms and legs!?!?!??!

#187: Well... that's what I would do.

(Mikey just cringes at the thought of getting his arms and legs broken)

MIKEY: Boss... are you just bullshitting me? Or are we in over our heads?

#187: Oh we're well in over our heads Mikey. They don't call this the most brutal match of A1E for nothing. But look on the bright side.

MIKEY: Which is?

#187: At least you're not Sukie. He thinks I won't finish what I've started.

He's in for a rude awakening - and I'm not talking about the wrestling move either.

Slambo finds comfort in the boiler room of the arena. He sits against he wall, his arms on his knees, his fingers slowly moving amongst themselves, hand over hand, interlaced, then not. As he speaks his eyes dart from his hands to the camera and back again.

Dross, drivel, dreck...dross, drivel, dreck...dross, drivel, dreck...I like those words. I like those words a lot. They are new and shiny like eggs and feel like powder in my mouth. Richard said them when he picked me up with Mr. Fikes. He has cars with TV's in them and he made me watch the other people in The Pier Six Brawl and listen to what they had to say. So many people. So much to say. I had to block my ears after a while because they were saying such nasty things. Such awful, nasty, thoughtless, meaningless, pointless things.

AND SOMETIMES THEY SHOUT LIKE THIIIIIIIIIS!

And they talk about blood and suffering and pain and torture and all sorts of unpleasant things.

But that's only some of them. Only the ones that have nothing else to offer. They define themselves through volume and filth because there is no little man behind the curtain pulling levers and throwing switches. They are just the floating head of Oz, bellowing and screaming, but in the end a parlor trick of smoke and mirrors.

Dross, drivel and dreck.

And then there are the quiet few. The pondering strategists. The thinkers. The planners. They've got the market cornered on mind games and plan to defeat their opponents before the bell even rings. Some of them are tricky, with their technicolor dream coats set to "humble" as they hem and haw about giving it their best and surviving the melee as their underdog underbite helps them overachieve.

Liars. The lot of them. Filthy, stinking liars. No better than the dirty birds who's tongues must weigh heavy with the stench of the hatred they exhale with every sophomoric metaphor they hurl.

This leaves us with the true believers. Those who honestly think they'll win - some even think they deserve to win and offer no apologies. Perhaps these few deserve your pity the most because they just don't see it coming. They hear what I have said and they understand the trials they will face at Bloody New Year, but they cannot for the life of them process the possibility of the unthinkable becoming their reality. Losing is not an option because they have made no alternate plans. They have no side agenda. They have no built in excuse. They simply seek to hold on longer than anyone else and ride a wave of victory to that which they think they are owed - The World Heavyweight Championship.

And any other time that just might happen.

But not this year.

Not this time.

Not this match.

Dross, drivel and dreck. Thousands upon thousands of words to fill the ears of all those who might be convinced of something that some of them wish they believed, some of them choose to believe and others have no choice but believe. The months spent in preparation. The hours spent steeling their nerves.

The guilty pleasure of a split second spent, eyes closed, a single frame of the most earned victory allowed to exist in the mind until the heart begins beating again and reality rushes back as blood flushes back to the brain, cycling itself throughout the body blissfully unaware of the rough, dry canvas that will become it's new home. Unaware of the tiny metal teeth that exist only to pry it from it's current vessel.

And me? This fool? This oaf? This toad?

This clown.

Who am I and where do I fit in? It always comes back to that, doesn't it? Maybe I'm the monster you have seen, all yellow teeth and bloodshot eyes just itching to claw a chunk out of someone's skull. Or maybe I'm the underdog - high society's tortured whelp. A flunky bent on proving himself once and for all. Maybe I am even the true believer simply answering destiny's call to stand and fight my fight and claim my victory.

Maybe I am all of these things.

Maybe I am none of them.

Maybe...

...

...maybe...

...maybe I am a little bird. A little brown sparrow sitting in a tree outside your window. Just another speck of nothing that makes up everything. Except this is the speck of nothing put on this planet to wake you in the morning and announce the arrival of another day...

...calling and end to the wonderful dreams you find in your sleep.

It doesn't matter though. No matter who says it, it's all dross, drivel and dreck. Dross, drivel and dreck.

Dross.

Drivel.

Dreck.

... as the tension.

The camera is inside the backstage area of the arena that Bloody New Year will be taking place at. Close up on the door as it opens to reveal Andrew F’N Gilkison, dressed in casual wear and a light jacket. Andrew notices the camera, gives a slight smile, and begins to speak.

You know, with so many lunatics and delusional raving maniacs in one match, I figured I would take a guided tour of one of the insane asylums here in Manchester, and I found some surprising information. Not that I’ll try to share it with you, because you got Mr. Incredible and his promos for useless information and statistics.

But allow me to do something I haven’t done much of this week, which is address some of the lunatics in question.

If I haven’t done that much, it’s because I would rather spend my energies preparing for one of the biggest and most dangerous matches of my career rather than running my mouth on a regular basis (and it seems the other camera crews were busy anyway).

God knows Haven could stand to be a little more silent, especially when everything that comes out of his mouth is pure shit and causes the IQ of anyone listening to drop substantially. I mean, seriously Fly, why couldn’t you at least bring in a lackey who was smart enough to tell a human being apart from a rabbit?

All that yelling and cussing might put fear into a six year old little girl, Haven, but it doesn’t impress or scare me. I’ve faced the worst psychos this business has to offer, and you don’t even rate in the top ten. I would probably put Eddy Weston a notch below you though, so aren’t completely useless.

Haven, come the PPV, all that ranting and raving about “f**king rabbits” won’t save you from the wrath of Andrew F**king Gilkison. Bottom line, save your f**king energy boy, because you are going to f**king need it big time when you cross my path.

Than, we got another nutcase who can’t say anything intelligent in the form of Stambo The Clown. A clown who thinks the Highland Park Social Club are really his friends.

shakes head

Silly little clown.

Take it from personal experience of a guy who wasted weeks of his career being a member of it Slamy, the Club are a bunch of assholes. If your goal in this match is to try to eliminate the competition for them, all you are going to get is disappointment because all it will get you is eliminated from this match while the rest of us fight for our lives to get a shot at Kenny boy’s belt (of course, it might not be his belt anymore after the PPV is over, but that is another matter).

I hope you got plenty of balloons to keep you busy, Slam, because you are going to have a lot of free time on your hands given to you very shortly.

Of course, I do need to respond to Housefly’s latest overly drawn out mess where he tried to explain to me how his career is not dying (despite recent evidence to the contrary) and how he is going to use this match to revitalize it.

Well sorry to be the proverbial monkey wrench Fly, but not while I live and breathe... not even over my dead body... are you walking out of this match the victor.

In fact, the chances of you walking out of this thing at all are remotely slim given the odds. Maybe the Housefly of old is capable beating those odds, but even you agree that he is dead.

Don’t count on me leaving A1E for a while, Fly, and don’t count on you being better than me just because you won ONE match out of the many ones we had four years ago either. Well, than again, you can count on anything you want because it’s a free country, but even your delusions and decent into madness won’t save you from the wrath of Andrew Gilkison. If there is one thing you CAN count on Fly, it is that!

As for Prisoner 187, well, he seems to be counting on me eliminating Fly so he doesn’t have to do it himself. Maybe you think I’ll save you from having to take down Fly yourself, Prisoner, but the question is... who is going to save you from me.

I bet you remember all the times I hammered my fist into your face four years ago, Prisoner. I remember it too, and I had such a blast doing it, I am planning on doing it again.

Suicidal Killer seems to be looking forward to doing it as well. Let’s hope he sticks to you and doesn’t try to get in my way, for his sake.

And my talk of psychos wouldn’t be complete without my older brother. But I think I would rather talk to him, face to face...

Andrew notices a female production assistant (and a very attractive one at that). He makes his way over to her.

Andy: Excuse me, miss...

PD: wide smile Amy... Amy Jordon.

Amy and Andrew shake hands.

Andy: Nice to meet you Amy. Do you know where I can find Jack Gilkison?

To be continued...

The camera fades to black.

"Not a great worker, but one hell of a gimmick"

(Static occupies the A1Etron for 5 seconds... Click... We see Housefly sitting in his dressing room. He is getting ready for the Pier 6 Brawl as we see he is wearing his black cargo pants, his red sleeveless hooded sweatshirt, and his black Housefly logo cap, as fly is begins wrapping his fists in tape. Fly doesn't look at the camera for a long moment. All we can hear is his slow, and steady, breathing. Then without looking up into the camera a smirk forms on his lips before Fly begins to speak...)

HF: Ah, yes, there he is...

This fly is glad you haven't run away again, Andrew, very glad. This fly is happy to see you are still in the area, for the moment that is, as it would be a shame to see you run from this company yet again with your tail between your legs...

(Fly glances at the camera...)

After all, Andrew, where is the fun in you and this fly standing toe to toe in that ring again if you happened to disappear again before the match even begins?

(Fly chuckles before he lifts his fist and slams into the palm of his other hand to pack down the tape even more...)

You know, Andrew, this fly does find it very amusing in listening to you continually talk out of your ass about this fly's career in A1E, considering the fact... well, you know... it is very obvious that you haven't been paying close enough attention the scene is actually like here in A1E...

(Fly places his arms on his knees and looks into the camera...)

Oh sure. It is obvious that you have look at a few sites on the internet and saw that this fly lost to Beast at Golden Dreams. You also saw that this Fly wasn't wearing the A1E World Heavyweight Title. Hell, perhaps you even saw the result of last years Vengeance when this Fly's Empire lost to Beast's group of the Anti-Empire within that WarGames match...

And upon seeing those two, to three, results you decided to do some creative math and decide...

(Fly leans back in his chair and starts shaking his finger at the camera while doing a very accurate impersonation of Andrew Gilkison...)

"Yup, look at that... Fly lost to Beast, he no longer has his Empire, and He's not the World Champion anymore like he was 4 years ago when I last stepped foot in this company. His career is dead..."

(Fly chuckles as he leans forward and places his arms on his knees. Fly just glares into the camera...)

If you did your homework, Andrew, if you even remotely watched A1E television before you came back you would know that my career is far from over...

If you looked closer, Andrew, outside of those two, or three, little facts of yours you would see that this fly defeated Big Dog at Mercury Rising. Not only did this fly simply defeat him, this Fly was the first man ever in this company, or anywhere else in the word, made him say the words "I Quit"!

Then, after losing to Beast at Golden Dreams, this fly then went on to defeated Gladiator, after he turned his back on me, at Cyber Brutality. And afterwards this fly, alone, killed the Empire.

Not one other person in this entire company can claim that. Yes, many will step in say there were there to help in its demise, help make it weaker. But none of them were able to commit the killing blow...

Only this fly was able to accomplish that...

(Fly smirks slightly...)

And as for your reasoning that this fly's career is dying because he does not hold the A1E World Heavyweight Title?

(Fly chuckles...)

That is simple enough, Andrew, as its the simple fact that is until now, this very moment, ever since this fly lost the A1E World Heavyweight Title to Snake at Golden Dreams in 2001 this fly has not been actively trying to gain the A1E World Heavyweight Title back...

For well over 3 years this fly was only focused on two things...

The first was the formation of my empire...

The second was my quest for vengeance over Beast for his crimes of stabbing this fly in the back...

(Fly nods slightly...)

And yes, once again, this fly failed in his efforts to destroy Beast's career...

Although it is not like this fly has been sitting on his hands for those three years as well, Andrew, as this fly has had countless success against varying opponents. This fly has also managed to win the A1E Cyber and Tag Team Titles...

(Fly glares at the camera...)

But one failure out of a career filled with success hardly means that this fly has one foot in the grave, and another standing on a bananna peel, Andrew...

(Fly shakes his head...)

So, no, Andrew, you are wrong in your assumption in how this fly is going to use this match as a way to revitalize my career...

This match is nothing more than the first, of many, stepping stones for this fly to once again get into that World Title picture. As this fly now, finally, turns his attention to reclaim the A1E World Heavyweight Title...

Is that so wrong?

Of course not. As that is why everyone is in this match. As they all want a chance to get a shot at that A1E World Heavyweight Title...

That is even why you are in this match as well..

(Fly smirks...)

If anyone is trying to revitalize their career, Andrew, it is you...

You may have had some success in MBE, but here in A1E, your career has been very lackluster...

Your two greatest claims to fame in A1E are defeating Nemesys for A1E Cyber Championship before then losing it to Reaper a week later. And your series of matches against this fly for the A1E World Heavyweight Title when you ultimately ended up losing...

Other than that, Andrew, you have done very little in A1E. And you have been run out of this company at least twice...

(Fly chuckles...)

Why don't you look in the mirror first and admit your own flaws before trying to take blind stabs at flaws that you percieve to think this fly has...

(An ice cold resolve is seen dancing in Fly's eyes...)

This fly is well aware, Andrew, that the odds of winning this match are very high against this fly. This fly fully understands that it will be a hard, long fought, fight. A fight that this fly possibly will not win...

But this fly is not going to give up, Andrew, this fly will keep on fighting until either he steps out of that Hell in a Cell in victory, or until he is thrown into that sea of barbwire in defeat...

(Fly sneers at the camera...)

This fly is well aware of the fact that he has a target on his back. As he has many enemies gunning for him...

You, Andrew...

Your brother, Jack...

James Irish...

Duchess...

Prisoner 187...

Suicidal Killer...

Cross...

Slambo...

And the rest...

(Fly nods slowly...)

Each one in turn has one issue, or another, that they must settle with this fly. As in attempt to pay this fly back for all the crimes he has committed against them throughout his career...

Each in turn, Andrew, this fly must face their wrath just like he must face yours...

(Fly slowly stands to his feet and glares into the camera...)

But this fly is not afraid...

Far from it...

This fly will stand tall against each, and every, one of you...

(Fly flashes a grin and nods at the camera...)

For this fly will keep on fighting until the very end, win or lose, this fly promises you that...


I am the King of Flies!

As Housefly's promo ends the picture goes grainy and a camera pulls back from a tight shot of a small TV in a dark corner of the underbelly of the arena. Slambo slouches in front of the TV, watching Fly prepare for his match and listening to him speak. As the picture fades to black he slowly reaches towards the monitor and turns the power off. He shuffles out of the corner and to the stairs leading up to the arena proper. He sits and begins speaking.

I think I have heard just about enough from everyone for now. It was so nice of Richard to give me my very own TV so that I can keep track of all of the people that want to hurt Kenny and I don't want to appear unappreciative...

...but enough is enough.

Never have so many taken so much time and put so much effort into saying so little. But I guess that is what we do, isn't it? For now anyway. Until...later on...

"Put up or shut up" they say. Don't they? Do they still say that? I think they do, but I don't know. It doesn't matter, they used to. And if they don't anymore they still should. Because really that says more than any of us have been able to say all week. When the match starts people are either going to put up, or they are going to have to shut up. It's wonderful in it's simplicity, isn't it?

I just wish it would start now because it seems like the only time some of these people will ever shut up is between the ropes. Yeah, a lot of them shut up real quick in the ring.

Real quick.

Slambo stares into the darkness for a long moment, closes his eyes and exhales a long, steady breath.

I don't know much. I don't know very many things. I know what I'm good for because there is not too much to remember and I know where I don't belong because I've got the scars that helped me learn that lesson to remind me. Other than that...

Slambo shrugs.

...that's why I'm so lucky to have friends like Richard, Chip and Kenny. With all the talk talk talking going on this week it would be easy for a person to get confused. My Club helps me stay focused. The tell me what is important. They tell me what to do so I don't have to be burdened with that myself.

But I know a couple things that they didn't tell me. Things that just come to me sometimes. Things that tell themselves to me during my alone time. There are a few things that have made themselves known to me concerning the Pier Six Brawl tonight. The first one is that Duchess is the first person I will put my hands on in this match. She will quickly learn the difference between cherry picking Slambo when he's fighting for himself and placing herself in the path of Highland Park's own Weapon of Mass Destruction when war has been declared on our champion. Duchess will feel it first - that much I know because when it begins it will be just she and I. I'm not asking to start the match with her, I guess I just feel lucky.

The other thing I know is this...

...that guy?

Slambo points in the direction of the TV with his thumb.

...that fly? He's going to be last. He's not the biggest or the meanest or the loudest or the strongest...but he's tough. I can tell. Yes, in the end it's going to be me and Housefly and he's going to want a shot at Kenny just as much as I want to deny him that.

Slambo's face goes gray and his eyes seem to die as he looks into the camera, hatred cementing a sneer onto his lip. A flash of spittle shoots from his lip as he speaks slowly with calculation.

You can NOT have him. You will not touch him. You will not hurt him.

Slambo closes his eyes and calms himself.

You will not win, Housefly.

I won't allow it.

Of course, he probably thinks the same thing about me. Part of him knows that I'll be there in the end. Part of him knows that I will outlast his own personal monster, The Prisoner, The Killer, The Trickster, The Duchess, The Irish, The Andrew, The Outlaw, The Ex Con, and The Show. He knows I'll be there in the end with him just as he knows he will defeat me.

That's what makes it all so much fun.

But I have seen his weakness. I have seen his fatal flaw and it all comes back to his sorry and pathetic pride. This man...this fly...this clown...this bug...

A large cockroach scuttles out of the shadows, drawing Slambo's attention.

Hello there. I was wondering when you would show up...what? What's that? Oh Barry, you're silly. Ken is my friend, Barry...Yes, Ken is also the Champion...oh hush up Barry...let me finish...

Slambo looks back at the camera.

That pride, Housefly...the burning ember in your gut that won't allow you to admit to real, honest failure...sure, you'll pay it lip service, "I lost this match, I lost that match," but you don't believe it. You can't allow yourself to believe it. It's easy to admit to small failures - easily dismissed as meaningless distractions. But when your life's work crumbles in front of the world...well that's a bit of a tougher pill to swallow, isn't it? You know what I'm talking about. Your impotent Empire. The fly blown corpsed shell of what was promised all those years ago - rotting atop this company for so long that we all gagged on the fresh air when you finally buried the body. And make no mistake, Housefly, that is all you did - you performed funeral rights in the post mortem. We killed your empire. We destroyed your dream. Convince yourself that it grew too powerful for it's own good. Convince yourself that the power struggle between you and Gladiator caused the explosion heard around the world. The fact is that when The Empire fell it was barely heard around the block. I know because I was chained to a dumpster in the alley around the corner. The rats barely stirred at the sound of your bloated Frankenstein crumbling to a heap. The Club could take credit for the murder, but it's beneath us. Do you hear me, Fly? The death of your Collossus is beneath ME! Yes, we kicked The Empire around for a couple of laughs, but even then the joke wore out pretty quickly. If anything my friends smothered your vision as a mercy killing then left you the job of cleaning the mess left by it's bed sores.

Am I getting through to you, Fly?

Are we communicating?

Understand this - your Empire failed, Fly. Your purpose is no more. And now you seek to reinvent yourself. I don't blame you. I don't even hate you for it. I just refuse to allow it to happen at the expense of MY purpose. You will not upend my reason for living, Fly. I will not allow you to define my dream. You are merely a player on the stage, but don't get too caught up in the performance Fly, because if you watch closely you might learn a thing or two about succeeding in your life's ambition.

Slambo looks down at the cockroach again.

Now Barry...why would you say such a thing? Whatever would Richard say if he heard you talking such nonsense? And Kenny? What would he think?

Slambo looks around him, over his shoulders and up the stairs. Dread covers his face.

Oh no, this just won't do at all.

Slambo stands and runs his fingers through his greasy hair. He closes his eyes and then snaps his head around in the direction of Barry. His eyes burn with betrayal.

My friends were right about you Barry...they were right all along. You don't care about me and I don't think you ever did. You're just like everyone else...jealous...jealous of my friends. I don't want to talk to you anymore Barry...go away! GO AWAY!

GOAWAYGOAWAYGOAWAYGOAWAY!

Slambo moves towards Barry and raises his foot into the air, aiming to smoosh the cockroach, who just stands there, seemingly oblivious to his impending doom. Slambo stops himself and recoils at his actions. He retreats into the shadows, breathing heavily...sobbing?

Please Barry...please go away...

The camera zooms in on the roach, who scuttles off under the stares.

...and please don't say those things ever again, Barry. Kenny is my friend...

...I wouldn't fight him...

...I would never fight him...

***Duchess is in her locker room getting ready for the Pier 6 Brawl, she is dressed in her ring gear, blue short, a matching halter top, matching boots and black knee and elbow pads, her long blonde hair is pulled back in a French braid tied with a blue bow. Taking a drink of water from an open bottle, Duchess caps the bottle and begins to speak.***

I guess no one told Slambo that if he wins this match he gets a shot at the Heavyweight Championship, gosh that must present a real dilemma for everybody’s most pathetic clown. Of course you could get lucky and Torment or BigDog will win the championship from Kenny. Personally I’ve got fifty bucks on BigDog, that would solve Slambo’s little problem right there wouldn’t it.

On the other hand there is the totally unforeseen possibility that Slambo won’t win the barb wire encircled cluster of a match. I mean really there are just so many totally uncontrollable personalities in this thing. I hesitate to call them sociopath again, because I hate repeating myself, but well truth hurts.

The interesting thing about this thing is that you learn something new about your opponents for example, before this I really never had much interaction with Fly, never that close to his radar I guess. Now I’m listening to him justify Haven. How in the world can anyone try to justify Haven. The man is a total lunatic. Really you let something like that loose on the world and then just say, what, oh well my bad.

It appears that Prisoner what’s his number and little Mikey finally made it to England, and we all wait with baited breath to see what kind of havoc they are going to cause next. I’m sure every one cares so very deeply about what this nut job and his little assistant nut job are going to do. Please I’d rather waste time in a discount shoe store.

James has also finally made it to England, Andy, Jack and Eddie are already and Roderick has finally made his way to the arena, seems everybody is here and it’s time to get this mess over with. It’s a good thing there is something worth winning at the end of this match or they would never get anybody sane in this thing.

See ya in the ring.

***Duchess grabs the black duster she wears over her ring gear and exits the locker room.***


jem

(Outside the arena in London, Prisoner #187 and his side kick Mikey, hop the security fence and head over to the back entrance)

MIKEY: Boss..?

PRISONER #187: WHAT?????

(As #187 grunts while breaking the backdoor lock with his wire cutters)

MIKEY: Wouldn't it be easier to go through the front door. I mean we are scheduled to be here.

(#187 glances over at Mikey, who just nods his head and prepares to slap himself - which he does - in the back of the head)

#187: You're catching on finally.

MIKEY: So I guess we want to surprise everyone?

#187: Hell no. This isn't a birthday party we're going to - even though there will be a clown and other fruity types of people attending. I don't want Houston to spoil anything. If we went through the front he'd take away our tricks and treats.

MIKEY: He wouldn't?!?!

#187: Oh yes he would and you know what.

MIKEY: What?

#187: He'd take away your 4X4, Congo.

MIKEY: Not CONGO!

#187: Yep, Congo.

(Mikey knocks in the backdoor with the help of his 4X4)

MIKEY: Screw that, I'm not leaving Congo in his hands.

(#187 gives an evil smile)

#187: It's about time you man'ed the fuck up, boy. Now repeat to me what your objective is tonight.

MIKEY: Take out Freakshow.

#187: And?

MIKEY: Smack fly upside the head with Congo!

(#187 smacks Mikey upside the head)

#187: Idiot.. That’s not what I told you.

MIKEY: Oh.. Yeah now I remember, you want me to knock the clown's teeth out.

#187: Nope.

MIKEY: Break his legs?

#187: Nope.

MIKEY: Give him a concussion?

#187: No!!!

MIKEY: Then what?!?!

#187: I want you to ... (Whispers into Mikey's ear)

(Mikey nods his head)

MIKEY: Right boss!

#187: Now go inside and wait for me, and leave that stupid camera with me.

(Mikey hands over his video camera to #187 as he sprints inside. #187 looks down at the camera and just gives a sadistic smile)

#187: You think you're all badass now huh Housefly? Thinking that you can muster up enough will power to take on everyone in this brawl.

Hell you even have the clown believing you. How pathetic is that...

Trying a new image is that it? A mixture of both the goody two shoes Fly you use to be and the so-called King Fly you were when you controlled the Empire.

You almost sold me on that "For this fly will keep on fighting until the very end, win or lose, this fly promises you that" line. What a load of crap.

You were right about that whole 'one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel' part... because that is not you. No sir. You're 100% healthy, top notch the best shape you're in, you're feeling great about tonight. Smell that air. Freshness. Look at that sky, not a cloud in it. The stars are in your favor. All you have to do is do your best and let it go from there.

Well Fly, you know where the "going with the flow" is taking you tonight?

Straight into the current of a tsunami of bodies, and the sick thing is... even the strongest of flies won't be able to stop it.

As for the clown..

(#187 sneers into the camera)

#187: Where's you're black heart? Left it in a dumpster have you? Too afraid of actually being the psychotic clown you use to be. And to think you were once a part of me. You're a disgrace. You couldn't even hurt a bug, and yet you expect to survive the horrors of tonight? You think you can last till the very end?

(#187 turns his sneer into a slight snicker)

#187: By the beginning of the match, you'll soon find yourself huddled in a corner, praying for your so-called friends to come down to the ring and help you.

But they won't be coming to help Slammy, because they're not your friends. You have no friends. You've built it up all week how you’re going to sacrifice your body for them. To sacrifice you're life for them. And when you see the mass carnage and mayhem of this war, this epic battle, the only thing left for you to do is to cower with fear, fear of losing the only thing that's been keeping you going these past few months.

Fear of being..

All alone.

Tonight you are all alone, and you're not even close to being man enough to stand up to the challenge, you never were and you never will be.

So I say to you clown, go ahead and dream your little dream, because that's all it'll ever be is a dream.

Sleep tight... and don't let the bedbugs bite.

(#187 grins as he tosses the camera on the ground and gives it one quick stomp)

(Static occupies the A1Etron for 5 seconds... Click... The camera pans around an empty arena. The A1Etron is set up. The chairs are all lined up behind the steel guardrail. As hundreds of huge spools of barbwire are lined up around the guardrail and going down the aisle. The ring is completely set up as well as Housefly, dressed only in his black cargo shorts, his housefly pendant necklass, and his black Housefly logo baseball cap, seen standing alone in the middle of the ring. Housefly takes in the empty surroundings. Not saying a word. As all we can hear is his slow, and steady, breathing. Then, without looking at the camera, Fly begins to speak...)

HF: This is it...

This is where the carnage, the mayhem, and the violence will take place...

It is right here where bodies will be broken, spirits will falter, and blood will be spilt...

(Fly lowers his head to look directly into the camera...)

It its here where one of us, only one, will endure all that chaos and walk out with a shot for the A1E World Heavyweight Title...

And the question is...

Does this fly think he can walk out of this Pier 6 Brawl with that World Title shot in hand?

(Fly pauses for a second as he lowers his head to think about it. Within an instant he looks up into the camera as a sheer look of determination can be seen dancing in his eyes...)

Oh hell yes!

This fly believes, deep down in his heart, that he will be there when the Hell in the Cell is lowered over this ring surrounded by a sea of barbwire. He can see himself as being one of the last two men standing within this ring after everyone else has been tossed over the top rope and into that barbwire...

And this fly can see himself battling with whomever the other person remains in the ring with him...

It does not matter if it is Slambo the Clown, Prisoner 187, Haven, Duchess, Andrew Gilksion, or anyone else standing across from this fly...

This fly believes he will walk out of that cell above us as the new #1 Contender for the A1E World Heavyweight Title...

(The camera slowly pans upward towards the heavens as we see the Hell in the Cell hanging above the ring. The camera then slowly pans back down to Fly, who has his head lowered, as he continues to speak...)

Now...

Since this fly believes he will walk out as the #1 Contender does that mean it will happen?

(Fly shakes his head...)

No...

As its one thing to be confident in yourself, and your chances for victory, before the match. And its a completely different story when the carnage stops...

Its an uphill battle, expecially when you have a target on your back, that is for damn sure...

But it is a battle this Fly is determined to win...

(Fly pauses for a moment before continuing...)

Prisoner 187 seems to think that this fly's confidence in his ability, of his chances within this Pier 6 Brawl, is nothing more than this fly trying to portray a new image...

As he thinks this fly is trying to play both the "good guy" and the "bad guy" at the same time...

(Fly slowly lifts his head and gives the camera an ice cold glare...)

That is where you are wrong, 187...

This is not an image this fly is trying to portray...

This fly is not trying to "get over" with a new personality, or any other crap like that, in hopes of impressing this fly's peers, bosses, or even the fans...

(Fly points at himself...)

This is who is I am... 187... Whether you like it or not!

Since the day I have ever stepped foot into a wrestling ring I have always been true to myself. Who I am outside of the ring is who I am inside of the ring...

That has never faltered...

Not when people loved me when I was all about honor, respect, and doing the right thing...

And not even I was hated because I was a complete, and utter, asshole...

(Fly takes as step closer to camera as we can see pure intensity dancing in his eyes...)

I don't give a damn, 187, if people love me or hate me. Because in the end I am one of the best wrestlers in this sport and there is no one who can deny that!

(Fly takes as step backwards and shakes his head...)

Not you...

Not Andrew Gilkison...

Not anybody...

And if anyone dares want to challenge me on that then they are more than welcome to come and stand toe to toe with me in the middle of that ring... Before this fly then tosses them head over heels over that top rope and into that sea of barbwire...

(Fly pauses for a brief second before continuing...)

Now as for the clown...

It seems you are certain that it will be you and this fly standing alone in the middle of this ring when its time for the cell to drop...

(Fly nods slightly...)

That may very well possible, clown, but as this fly just said. He doesn't give a rats ass who is standing here in the middle of that ring when the cell drops...

But, this fly can say, if you are the person this fly is meant to fight it out with at the end of the night...

(Fly forms a smirk and lets out a chuckle...)

So be it...

Because you are right, clown, just as you are so determined to make sure that this fly does not walk out of this brawl with possesion of that World Title shot... This fly is equally determined to make sure you do not walk out the as the winner as well...

(Fly's smirk slowly fades...)

So you think this fly's weakness is that one of pride, eh?

That this fly cannot admit failure?

Truely admit failure?

(Fly shakes his head...)

That is where you are wrong, clown, as it killed this fly when he saw his Empire crumble down into nothing. When a dream that this fly created quickly turned into a nightmare...

It no longer matters, clown, how the Empire died...

The fact is it is dead...

Buried and never to return again...

Some dreams are just not meant to be. It is that simple...

(Fly glares into the camera...)

Yet this fly has a new dream. A dream that he has already made into a reality on two seperate occassions...

A dream that will become a reality for a third time...

Once again becoming the A1E World Heavyweight Champion...

(A sheer look of determination and intensity is seen dancing in his eyes...)

And the first step to to accomplishing that dream starts tonight...

(Fly shakes his head...)

So here we stand, clown, two men ready stand up and fight for our dreams. Surround by others who are just as determined to make their dreams a reality as well...

Sadly only one will have their dreams come true...

(Fly looks around the ring and holds his out his arms...)

For the rest of you... Your dreams of going on to face the A1E World Heavyweight Champion will be crushed by this fly right here in this ring tonight...


I am the King of Flies!

(Backstage of the London arena, Prisoner #187 stands by himself. No Mikey. No bag of tricks. Just the prisoner and the an A1E camera)

PRISONER #187: Every breath you take... every bone of yours you break... I'll be there watching you.

That's right I'll be there, either it be in that ring standing behind or on the side of you.. or out in the sea of madness doing what I do best, making people bleed. I'll still be there watching you.

Keep this in the back of your mind Fly. You may not want to call it a threat, you may just disregard everything I say and focus on the task at hand. But know that my presence will be felt tonight, either it be by force or by just shear emotion.

It comes down to this... one match to decide it all, to decide who goes on to face the A1E World Heavyweight Champion.

#187 sneers into the camera)

It's been brought to my attention that the wrestlers or A1E do not seem to hold me as a threat. That I'm just some "nut job" on his last tank of gas, trying to climb that ladder back to the top, using this match as an act of desperation.

(#187 gives a slight chuckle)

#187: Oh how wrong you are. And it is these poor judgments that will cause each and every one of you to become nothing more than victims, and it doesn't even have to be by my hands, but by someone else you've underestimated. Like Eddie Weston, Andy, or Haven. These people that are as unpredictable as I am, are the worst to fear, because you know it's coming you just don't know how or when..

Ask yourselves this...

Do I care about the A1E World Heavyweight Championship? No.

Do I care about Ken Cloverleaf? No.

Do I care about reviving a career in this putrid federation? No.

I care for none of these things, unlike the Fly. I only care about revenge, something I will most indefinitely achieve tonight, and no one will stop me from it.

(#187 snickers as he glares at the camera)

#187: Fly you are truly magnificent, you know that. I admire a man who admits his faults. I admire a man who admits defeat is possible in his future. I admire a man who's willing to accept that he is only human. These things I admire about you Fly, because it's going to be that much more fun to break you in this match.

Your determined facial expressions, your courage, your underdog tone in your voice.. Being true to yourself.. All more reason why you will fall to your knees..

Bloody.

Broken.

Beaten.

You are the man that everyone wants to beat, and they will try, and try, and try to toss you out, but like you said you will give it everything you have and then some if need be.

It would be hysterical if Andy did toss you over, or Slammy, or even Duchess. I would most enjoy watching you fail.

What can I say, I have a sick sense of humor

(#187 gives an evil smile)

#187: But know this Fly. If the Andys and Slammys don't get to you, then I will most certainly will. Don't count on someone tossing me over the ropes and into the sea of pain, because I'll leave that job to you.

Come on and try to toss me over Fly. I dare you.

There's one thing about having a little experience with this match that gives me a slight advantage. I know how dirty people will play to get the win. I know that they will sneak attack you if necessary. I know once your back is turned they will toss you over quicker than you can say "Bloody hell".

Will I be one of these types of people doing such nasty things?

COUNT ON IT!

If I get the chance to make you scream in pain and make blood pour from your face, then count on me doing it.

Fly I bet you're a bit curious why I believe you will fail tonight. It's because my hatred for you out weighs your passion your determination for getting back into the spotlight.

I may not make it to the end, chance might have it that I get eliminated before that Hell in a Cell is dropped, but just like the clown stated, the fly is not making it to the end.

(#187 stares down at the ground and then back up to the camera)

#187: I hope you cherish that trinket around your neck Fly, because after tonight's match I plan on taking it for my own pleasure.

Reminding me of the pleasure I had making you bleed your future away.

(#187 laughs sadistically)

Andrew Gilkison is inside Jack Gilkison’s dressing room. Andrew is in his gear, clearly ready to step into the Pier Six Brawl. He is sitting on the chair, checking out the promos delivered by the competition. He begins to speak.

You know, it seems that Housefly is a little defensive there. It’s nice to see how I could strike such a nerve in him like that.

Smirks

But he did raise some decent points about my career in A1E as well. I am not going to paint a rosy picture of it, but than again, I haven’t been here on a constant basis like Fly has been.

Look at my own flaws, he says? Look in the mirror?

Well I got news for you there pal, I did.

That is one of the reasons I left.

You see, Fly, after I encountered that setback in my quest to gain the gold belt that you had around your waist at the time, I lost sight of who I really was. I forgot what got me to those matches against you in the first place, which was that same determination and dive that got you to the dance.

After the crap with Mr. Hyde, I became bitter and angry about where I was. I blamed everyone else for it. I thought I found friends with the Highland Park Social Club, friends that could get me to the belt that I wanted. Who knows, I stayed around long enough, it probably would’ve happened.

But than I took a long look at myself, at who I was becoming, at who I was having for allies, and I didn’t want to be that. I didn’t want to become that monster.

So yeah, I choose to get away, to clear my head, and take care of other business that had nothing to do with professional wrestling, and revaluate why I wanted to become a wrestler in the first place.

Maybe if you had done the same after your setbacks, you wouldn’t had turned into a lame soap opera villain who blamed his friends and his fans for his personal problems, and maybe you wouldn’t have wasted three years of your life with that Empire stuff.

Now who is the one having problems looking in the mirror?

Surely not me, Fly. I know who I am, and I know who I want to be.

One thing is for sure... I sure as hell don’t want to be you.

But even though I don’t have a high opinion of you personally, I love the thought of hooking up with you in the ring again. I am looking forward to going toe to toe with everyone in this match, and looking forward to hearing the crowd and feeding off their emotion.

I can’t wait for this match!

Now if only my brother would get in here.

Andrew continues waiting, as the camera fades to black.

"Not a great worker, but one hell of a gimmick"

(Static occupies the A1Etron for 5 seconds... Click... As fly makes his way back to his dressing room, shortly after conducting his latest interview in the ring, he slowly comes to a stop as he notices Andrew Gilkison's interview playing on a monitor in the hallway. Fly watches the interview before smirking slightly. Fly turns to face the camera, yet he doesn't say a word, as all we can hear is his slow and steady breathing. Then, finally, Fly begins to speak...)

HF: Ah, there is that phrase again...

The one where Andrew Gilkison is trying to compare this fly as nothing more than a "lame soap opera villian"...

Is that how you see this fly, Andrew?

(Fly shrugs as he continues...)

So be it...

In end it really doesn't matter what you think of this fly, Andrew...

It doesn't really matter what anyone thinks of this fly..

This fly doesn't care if people see me as a saint, a sinner, an asshole, are anything else...

(Fly points towards the direction of the ring...)

As what matters is what happens once we step foot in that ring. What matters what will happen when you and this fly finally stand toe to toe and look each other in the eye...

(Fly smirks as he glares into the camera...)

And even though this fly was, and perhaps still is, in your eyes a "lame soap opera villian" what you will find out, Andrew, is that this fly is still one of the very best wrestlers in this sport today...

This fly still has what it takes to take you out...

(Fly's smirk fades...)

You want to know what this fly sees when he looks in the mirror, Andrew?

This fly sees a man who always held firm to his ideals, and his beliefs, no matter what anyone else said...

No matter if this fly was filled with honor, or with anger, this fly has never backed down from one man who has ever stepped in front of him...

This fly never quit when trying to achieve his goals...

(Fly points at his heart...)

And this fly has always, always, fought with his heart. 100% of the time...

(Fly then points at the camera...)

You, and others like you, may not agree with the actions this fly has taken in his lifetime...

You can joke about it all you want...

(Fly glares at the camera...)

But in the end this fly rests comfortably knowing that that was not an act. It wasn't a guy pretending to be something he wasn't...

What you saw there was a man standing up for what he believed in... Right or wrong...

And if you asked this fly what he would do if he were placed in those exact same situations again. Knowing what he knows now. What would this fly do then?

(Fly nods to himself...)

This fly would make the same decisions...

Because this fly felt them to be the right decisions at the time...

And this fly would not have grown into the man you are seeing standing in front of you right now if he did not make those decisions...

(Fly smirks as he lifts his arms out to the side...)

Now you, and everyone else, can continue to love me or hate me...

This fly really doesn't care which one you choose...

As in the end this fly doesn't give a rats ass of what you think of him...

(Fly points towards the direction of the ring...)

Because tonight, all that matters to this fly, is entering that ring and tossing 12 other people over that top rope and into a sea of barbwire...

(Fly glares into the camera...)

For this fly is going to do everything in his power to gain that shot at the A1E World Heavyweight Title, no matter who stands in his way...


I am the King of Flies!

"Stonehenge
where the demons dwell
Where the banshees live and they do live well
Stonehenge
Where a man is a man
and the children dance to the pipes of pan"

With a new rental car, James Irish and Erin Flanagan are finally in England! But they still have a long way to go to get to Manchester.

JIrish: At this rate, we'll make it to Manchester with about a day to spare before the curtain rises on the Theatre of the Absurd one more time! I'm finally starting to feel it, here, the Pier 6 Brawl is almost here... it feels like anticipating April 15th, except with blood loss.

Erin: April 15th?

JIrish: Tax day back home. Hey... look at that!

A road sign reads "Stonehenge, 2 miles" with an arrow pointing at a side road.

JIrish: We gotta stop there! I've always wanted to see this with my own eyes!

Erin: Lad, it's a hunk of rocks that people think was some kin' of calendar. And I'd rather ye get t' Manchester to prepare for yer match!

JIrish: Come on, like you've never been a tourist before! This'll only take a half hour or so, and besides, we've got promo time here, what better backdrop can you ask for?

The two make a beeline for the site of the famous ruins, and proceed there-in.

JIrish: Now how about this? Isn't this something? I mean, this is downright beautiful.

Erin: I'll admit, it's got a charm. But it's a little cold out, lad.

JIrish: Cold? You want cold, you talk about Prisoner 187. The man is stone cold inscrutable. No sir, you could not scrute this guy if you so much as tried.

Erin: James, that makes absolutely no sense.

JIrish: I know, that's why it's fun to say. In all seriousness, though, 187 is a mystery wrapped in an enigma concealed within a fortune cookie. At least that's what he wants you to believe. Problem is for him, a man who depends on an aura of violence and merciless behavior, being in the same ring as Suicidal Killer, Slambo the Clown, Haven, Eddie Weston and even Jack Gilkison... all of them get diluted by it. You put enough sickos in the same ring, and they lose their mystery, their flair.

Erin: Ye can' be serious, lad! If ye ask me, i' just makes 'em more dangerous. Especially since ye jus' named almost half the blasted match!

JIrish: Yeah, which means they're as much a threat to each other as much as anyone else. And that is going to be their eventual downfall in this match. There's also something about facing down so many different psychopaths at once that deadens your fear of them. You're almost becoming a gung-ho maniac, just waiting for them to come at you full tilt so you can smash 'em upside the head and turn their momentum against them.

Erin: Now I know yer crazy. I kinna like that...

JIrish: Now you're the one who can't possibly be serious.

Erin: *chuckles* I still have faith in yer chances, lad, no matter how crazy ye are.

JIrish: Faith... Erin, you are a Segue Queen.

Erin: You mean those stupid scooter things?

James winces.

JIrish: I walked right into that one. But, yes, faith is something that Cross has been in short supply of lately. Which scares me a lot more than any Eddie Weston or Prisoner 187.

Erin: Now you have me curious, lad.

JIrish: My first match after I had walked away from the Negat1ve One persona also involved Cross. He was a little overbearing in his faith, but you could tell he was genuine in his devotion. That was almost a year ago now, and here he is now, sounding like a man lost. Cross isn't just a mouth that knows of which he spoke of, though. He's one of the most skilled competitors in the match, bar none. Calling him a transitional champion is not only selling him short, it's practically no-selling what he can do and is capable of. The very thought of that man losing his way and feeling he needs to prove something isn't one to take lightly. There's definitely something going on in that man's mind... and it's not going to be pretty if it goes wrong.

Erin: I see yer point. He does have a lot o' moxie and talent. Maybe not the most powerful of the bunch, but-

Suddenly, a druid walks onto the scene. speaking with an odd accent, like a wizard in a bad medievil melodrama.

Druid: Ahhhhhhh, so the two of you have come seeking REAL ULTIMATE POWER!!!

*Ominous music* James and Erin look around, wondering where the music came from.

JIrish: What in the name of Jack Kirby's pencil is going on here?!

Erin: Come again? REAL ULTIMATE POWER!!!? *Ominous music* Why did I just yell?

Druid: Yes, the influence of REAL ULTIMATE POWER!!! *Ominous music* is very strong indeed.

JIrish: Okay, this is freaking me out.

Erin: What, the REAL ULTIMATE POWER!!! *Ominous music* malarky, me bein' forced to yell by some strange force, or that darn music?!

JIrish: No, Roderick McRatrick being right about something! The world IS coming to an end! Let's get outta here!!

Druid: HALT!! Thou shalt not tread away from REAL ULTIMATE POWER!!! *Ominous music* lightly, lest thou becomest a victim of it...

A thunderclap rings out.

JIrish: Okay, it's a clear day, and there's thunder. The very idea of a clear day in England in the middle of January is freaking strange enough, but this REAL ULTIMATE POWER!!! *Ominous music* - dammit, now I'm doing it! That tears it, I don't care if I'm cursed for life, doomed never to have kids, or forced to dream nothing but "Ishtar" for the rest of my days, we're leaving!

Erin: Right behind ye!

The two hurry back to the car. A second Druid walks out, carrying some sheet metal, the source of the "thunder," obviously. The first one drops the funny voice.

Druid 1: What a bunch of rubes.

Druid 2: This never gets old.

Fade out.

Squiggy and Roderick are watching TV in the back. James Irish's latest segment is on.

RMR: See? I was right!

SJ: Shut up.

RMR: You're just mad cuz I'm right. Now, I'm going to be right again.... you have the clap!

SJ: No I... wait a second, it DOES burn when I pee...

cue ominous music

Roderick's in his locker room, lacing up his boots, when all of a sudden, non-ominous music starts playing...

Singer: (off-camera) We'll have an adventure and several long trips.

We'll make some new friends and maybe get a bite to eat

All cuz we say...

RMR: Whaddaya know, Haddi-man!

In walks Everyone's Favorite Blue Midget Homestar... HOMSAR! in what can only be yet another hallucination for the current former Triple Star Champion.

Homsar: Aaaaa-aaa-aaaa I'm foreeever your girl.

RMR: Wow! Homsar! I bet you've come to give me advice for my match, just like the Ghost of Steve Guttenberg did!

Homsar: Aaaaa-aaa-aaaa I'm the pride of the peaches!

RMR: That you are! Have you come to tell me how to throw out guys like Housefly or Haven? Or have you come to let me know how to diffuse the quirky, good-natured sarcasm of James Irish? How about fashion tips on how to look as good or better than Duchess in pumps?

Homsar: Aaaaa-aaa-aaaa I'm a trendy totebag!

RMR: That's it! Oh, I knew it all along, that's how I have to compete with Duchess and her ravishing good looks so I can be the belle of the ball...e. What else should I know, oh wise one?

Homsar: Aaaaa-aaa-aaaa I'm a soooong from the sixties!

RMR: Wow, such insight! I knew James Irish used to be in radio, but using that agaisnt him? Pure genius! Man, I'm so glad I came to the arena rather than go to that costume party with Prince Harry. Even though I did have the best Hitler costume and he probably looked bad as an SS guard without me.

Cut to a scene of the Prince's bedroom, where he's sitting on his bed, face in his hands. He looks up to the camera.

Prince Harry: Asshole.

Cut back to the arena.

RMR: But tell me, what else can I do?

Homsar: Aaaaa-aaa-aaaa I was raised by a cup of coffee.

RMR: I see what you're saying! I need to adopt a more high energy style. Man, this is great! Now I know what to do! Any last tips?

Homsar: Aaaa-aaaa-aaaa I'm savin' the best for last!

RMR: That's brilliant! Thank you Homsar! Now I shall win Pier Six, and I won't need the REAL ULTIMATE POWER!

Cue ominous music.

Homsar: Kelsey Grammar!

At that instant, a giant iron weight labeled only as "Heavy Lourde" drops from the sky inexplicably on Homsar's head. Cut to another locker room, where Squiggy Jackson is watching in disbelief.

SJ: Why am I not surprised that HE was the only one able to get a straight interview out of Roderick?

Fade.

We find Eddie Weston at a local hardware store in Manchester, England. He has a shopping cart with his lead pipe from before in the child's seat. He's heading down the ailes as he looks to the camera.

Don't mind me, just doing some shopping for The Pier Six Brawl!

When you go into a sick, bloodbath like this thing is going to be, you need to follow the Boy Scout Motto: "Be Prepared!"

Eddie stops by one shelf and picks up some rope, along with a shovel.

You know I've been listening to all these other sh*t heads talk and talk about how they are going to mess people up and how awesome and badass they are.

I'm telling you right now, most of you bithces in this match are nothing but targets with f'n bullseyes on your faces as far as I'm concerned!

In another isle, Eddie stops and picks up some floresent light bulbs, a package of screwdrivers and a hammer.

You got this Duchess freaking out about all the talk of blood!

Give me a break!! Listen up bitch, since your #1 your going to be the first person I find when I get to the ring and we'll see how you handle it when I take a screwdriver to your f*cking head and bust you open really good!!

These jokers called Freakshow and Jack G and McRatrick are nothing but pin up dolls i'm going to rip to shreds!!

The Cross who has lost his faith is nothing more than a punching bag as far as I'm concerned!

Eddie stops to grab a Sledgehammer, then a wrench.

But there are some people I'm going to take cery seriously.

Guys like Housefly, Andy G, Haven, Slambo and 187.....

You see, although I don't give a f*ck what these guys have done in their careers before this, they are all dangerous and sick mother f'ers!!

But they are already ignoring me, and that's just what I want!

A sick grin forms of Eddie's face as he grabs a package of extension cord, then several boxes of thumbtacks.

Guys like Fly have a good point, my experience inside a A1E ring has been severly limited....

But does that make me any less dangeous?

F*ck no.....

At least Fly isn't stupid enough to take me as a insignifigant threat, its smart thinking like that which has lead him to become so successful in the ring.

But this is my formal introduction into A1E....

I need to make a impact....

and I'm going to do it by destroying everyone else's dreams of winning the Pier Six Brawl and becoming the #1 contender to the A1E World Heavyweight Championship!

Theses guys like Haven, 187 and the Clown are sick and demented people, they like to dish out pain and take it on the chin with a smile like Mikey eating his Life cerial.

Eddie grins as he stops to pick up a ladder and puts it on top of his cart, then heads for the checkout.

Pain is something to be shared, especially with people you don't like.....

and I don't like any of you sh*t heads in this match!

Your all obsticals in my path of vengence against Torment, who will pay for almost ending my career before it got started!!

Eddie waits at the checkout while the cashier rings up his order.

I may not be famous.

I may not have title belts on my resume.

But I have some things that are nessecary to survive this hellhole!

I have DESIRE!

I have PASSION!

and I have AMBITION!!

I have nothing to lose and everything to gain! I love the fact you all want to ignore me! That makes me jumping you from behind, beating the sh*t out of you and then tossing your f*cking ass into that sea of barbed wire ALL THE MORE FUN!!

My game plan is already in motion.....

Soon enough I'm going to make my splash with a good old fashioned, sick and super twisted BLOODBATH!!

I'm not afriad of anyone or anything.....

After all the sh*t I've gone through in my life.......this is going to be a cakewalk......

I'm going to share MY pain with each and every one of you!

I'm going to make a name for myself!

and if your not careful bitches, I'm going to win the whole damn Showcase!!

then I'll go out and party with some of Bob Barker's Hoes!

Time to feel the pain a**holes.....

Eddie pays for the merchandise and then takes the cart out with him as the camera fades to black.

I'm not taking this sh*t anyomore!

"Dizzy, drunk and fightin'
On tequila white lightnin'
My glass is getting shorter
On whiskey, ice and water"

Well, James Irish is finally in Manchester. Right now, he's sitting in a pub and looks like he'd rather be getting a root canal. In the background, you can hear glass breaking and people shouting, and the loudest voice?

Erin: DON'T YOU DARE CALL IRISH BEER PISS, YA DAMN-

A very family-unfriendly tirade of curses and epithets is obscured by the sound of glass and furniture being broken. James just sits there stoically, no doubt wondering if he can sneak away without anyone noticing. Still, he just takes another sip of an apparently nondescript beverage, which is almost done.

Bartender: Second round for you, young man?

JIrish: Nah, looks like I'm officially the designated driver for the wailing banshee over there.

A male voice shouts "UNCLE!! UNCLE!!" out, and the fighting finally stops. A still very angry Erin comes over to sit down, not even caring to fix her hair that has gone a little wild in the fracas.

Erin: Stupid Brits. Don't know good beer when they taste it.

JIrish: Are you quite done, now? Posting your bail isn't exactly something I was looking forward to. You're lucky this place has a high tolerance for that kind of madness.

Erin: Oh, begorra, lad. Ye're supposed t' be the big, though one o' the two of us.

JIrish: Rather than start an argument, I'm going to simply point out that I can't afford to spend my nights brawling away here when I have the Pier 6 to worry about. Prioritizing is something you learn awfully quick in this business.

Erin finally notices what a mess she's become from the brawl.

Erin: Ugh, little bastards messed me up good. Lad, I'll be right back.

Erin goes over to the Women's Room, and James finally breaths a sigh of relief.

JIrish: Well, now that Red Sonia seems to finally be cooling off, maybe I can actually talk about something not so trivial. You see, the stool to my left here is empty. This is where I was expecting to find James Thompson, the Freakshow of the wrestling world. He and I have been here before. And, he's not here.

Show, you're breaking my heart here, man. I thought this time you were going to finally break out of your "cult favorite" standing and make yourself one of the immortals of this business. I guess that's not happening this time, unless you somehow manage to get your head into this game and fast. Or maybe I have to knock some sense into that apparently easily distracted head of yours. I hope I don't have to, but it seems like you need it.

And meanwhile, housefly seems to have grown a persecution complex. "Oh, woe is this fly, for everyone else in this match has some heinous crime they want avenged from mine own darker days in the depths of Imperial purgatory." Oh, get over it, Jack Frost. You made your own damn bed, now it's time for you to lay in it. Sure, you say you can handle anyone and anything, but if you didn't feel there was something unfair about the way people are singling you out, you'd be keeping your mouth shut.

Which must be the most impossible thing of all.

Further meanwhile, Roderick McRatrick is dreaming about internet mascots. Now, I'm not going to judge that little episode, because, well...

James just casually pulls out a series of colorful scarves tied together, a dozen fake daises, a Masters of the Universe action figure (Trapjaw, to be precise), a box of toothpicks, a copy of John Tesh's greatest hits, and those infamous plastic sunflowers bopping around to "Rubber Biscuit" that heralded his true return almost a year ago.

It'd be like kicking my son while he was down. If I had a son...

James picks up the Tesh CD, looking at it carefully.

How did that get in there? I'll have to take a flamethrower to this.

Now, Roderick is probably the closest thing to a kindred spirit in this whole match, except his brand of weirdness isn't as grounded by... well, it's barely grounded at all, it just seems to follow it's own rules. And they change all the time. Which is probably why only the best in this business are really able to get very far against him. I always wondered what a one on one contest between us would be like. So far, this match is as close as we've gotten. Which might as well be another way of saying "not close at all."

And all the while, 187 plots and plans, people like Haven and Eddie Weston rant and rave, Duchess keeps on shopping, and the band plays on as it ever has in this business. Everyone has their own little angle in this match. But, hey, what else is new?

The point here isn't who's beaten who in the past, or who is more talented, or sicker (good grief), or can make the best pop culture references. Hell, even Eddie Weston is moving in on that territory now! Rod Roddy he is not. Hell, he's not even close to the guy who replaced Rod. I can't even watch that show now that Rod's gone, you know? It's just-

Erin: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY?!?!

JIrish: Good-God-A-Mighty... not again...

A female form is seen flying in the background, and Erin flies right after it. James just reassumes that look on his face of total deadpan depression... then gets those goofy sunflowers bopping again, just because.

See you all in the ring. Unless Jacqueline the Ripper here thinks she can take my place.

Fade out.

(Static occupies the A1Etron for 5 seconds... Click... Fly is seen entering his dressing room. He looks up at the clock as he notices its getting closer, and closer, for the Pay Per View to begin. Fly then heads over to his bag and pulls out a bottled water. Fly opens the water and takes a drink. Fly then cracks his neck before then heading over to the montior to turn it on as James Irish's latest interview is seen playing. Fly watches the interview before letting out a chuckle. Fly begins to speak...)

HF: This fly has grown a persecution complex, James?

Is that what you really think?

(Fly lets out another chuckle before then taking a drink of his water. Fly then turns to look at the camera as he shakes his head...)

No, James, you are mistaken...

This fly is far from crying about the fact that he is a target within this match. That others in this match will come after this fly for his crimes that he has committed against them in one way or another...

This fly knows this for a fact...

This fly accepts it...

And this fly is prepared to deal with each of them in kind...

(Fly takes another drink from his water...)

All this fly was doing, James, was truthfully stating his observations of his challenges in this match...

(Fly nods...)

And that is the fact that the odds are against this fly to walk out of this match with a vicotyr. Just like everyone else.

Or rather perhaps the odds are more so against this fly's favor now when compared to the others in this match all because this fly, as you say, can't seem to keep his big mouth shut...

(Fly smirks...)

This fly seems to have a problem with that lately it seems...

(Fly shrugs...)

Oh well...

(Fly takes another drink from his water...)

Honestly, James, this fly doesn't give a rats ass if the odds are in his favor or not. This fly could care less if everyone is gunning for him or not...

In the end this fly will deal each, and every, single one of you in kind within that ring...

In the end this fly will do whatever it takes to defeat all the odds against him to walk out of that ring as the next #1 Contender for the A1E World Heavyweight Title...

(Fly smirks...)

You can count on that...

For this fly has built his career by continually defeating the odds against him....


I am the King of Flies!