Dawn of A New Era

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"Warriors want a worthy opponent. There is no redress in fighting the pathetic."
-Donna Lynn Hope
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*This footage ripped from YouTube.*

We cut from a black screen to the interior of a small venue with a wrestling ring taking up a good deal of the available space; a small announce table sits nearby, helmed by a portly, graying man, and a muscular fellow wearing a gorilla mask.

Craig Hodgson: What a match this next one is going to be! We have XWCW Tag Team Champions the Action Stars taking on feisty challengers, S&M!

Hellraiser: The Red Chevron Club here in Guelph, Ontario is packed to capacity; more than 600 local fans have gathered to watch the Tag Champs dominate the competition!

CH: Mickey "Tombmaker" Wallbanger and the Torturer, Lee Applechuk already in the ring, waiting on the Seaman and Fister Mantastic to arrive, and it seems they won't have to wait long!

The house lights dim, and "Heroes" by Zayde Wolf begins to play over the speakers.

HR: The fuck? This isn't S&M's music! Who the Hell is this?

As the song progresses, two shadowy figures step out from the back and pause at the head of the aisle leading to the ring. The chorus kicks in with "We are heroes!" and the lights come back up, revealing Jay Omega and Alex Richards invading an indy house show. A house show that immediately becomes deafening as the newly formed XWF tag team make their way to the ring.

CH: HOLY SHIT!!!

HR: You said it! What are these two doing here? I haven't seen Omega and Richards in person since 2008!

CH: Shit is about to get real in here! Hellraiser, you'd better put away your 50 cent can of whisky, I'm gonna need to stay sober to call this match!

HR: Are you serious?

CH: Hell no, I'm just fucking with you! Pass that my way!

HR: I think you'll be pleasantly surprised; I upgraded my hooch.

CH: Oh, what are you drinking tonight?

HR: Seventy-five cent whisky!

At ringside, the referee tries to wave off the approaching Guardians Protection Services duo, then stops, and puts a hand to his earpiece. At the same time a cellphone vibrates at the announce table.

CH: I just got a text from the owner, Jon Schultz; apparently the GPS will be replacing S&M in a one-off match!

HR: This is going to drive our ratings through the roof!

CH: We're on the Internet now; we don't have ratings.

HR: Then how the fuck do we get paid?

Richards slides into the ring as the ref calls for the bell, and the Action Stars immediately lay the boots to him. The official gets involved, forcing Applechuk back toward his corner, which gives Alex the space he needs to surge to his feet, and begin trading blows with Wallbanger. Alex quickly gets the upper hand in the exchange, and drives Mickey back into the ropes. Richards whips Wallbanger across the ring, and powerslams him into the mat on the rebound.

CH: Alex Richards with a strong start here, despite retiring from competition more than two years ago.

HR: Whatever; I retired twenty years ago, and I could still kick your ass!

CH: I'm an out of shape alcoholic; you'd be hard pressed to find someone who couldn't.

HR: Good point. Alex stays right on top of Wallbanger, not giving the little shitstain any time to scrape himself off the mat!

CH: I thought you were a supporter of the Action Stars?

HR: Jay Omega and Alex Richards are in the ring right now. If you'll recall, they were both members of my Satan's Icons stable back in 2001. Although, they were very different people then.

Alex lays a heavy elbow drop into Wallbanger's sternum, then tags in Jay. The Omega Man vaults over the ropes and stomps Mickey a few times to keep him docile, then hauls the Latino man to his feet. Omega lets loose a rapid fire string of palm strikes to Wallbanger's chest and head, then follows up with a Discus elbow, a spinning crescent kick, and a tornado roundhouse that puts Tombmaker back down on the mat.

CH: Omega showing off some of the martial arts prowess he's known for, there, with a devastating combination!

HR: Jay Omega throws some of the stiffest kicks in the industry; I've been on the receiving end once or twice, and I can tell you from personal experience, Wallbanger has one fuck of a headache right now.

Jay tags Richards back in, then grabs Mickey by the legs as Alex shoots the ropes. Omega then slingshots Wallbanger straight into a running big boot from the Doctor of Mass Confusion.

CH: Have A Drink!

HR: Don't mind if I do!

CH: No, it's the name of the move.

HR: Don't care; still drinking.

Jay exits the ring as Alex makes a cover, but Applechuk scrambles into the ring to break up the pin. Incensed, Richards lays a few rights hands alongside Lee's jaw, then dumps the Torturer over the top rope. Omega drops down from the apron, circles around the ring, and begins brawling with Applechuk on the outside while Alex turns his attention back to Mickey, who is across the ring, using the ropes to pull himself back to a vertical base. Wallbanger rakes the eyes as Richards approaches to buy himself a little breathing room, and fires a sharp kick into the larger man's gut. A pair of quick forearm shivers softens Alex up a little, and Tombmaker plants him in the middle of the ring with a DDT.

CH: Ooh, that'll put a stop to Alex's momentum!

HR: Ha! Do you remember anything about these two?

CH: I don't even remember what I had for lunch.

HR: Six shots of vodka.

CH: Right! Though I prefer to think of it as a baked potato in liquid form.

HR: That explains why they were half sour cream.

Applechuk manages to break away from Omega, and scrambles up onto the apron, where Wallbanger tags him in. The Action Stars lever Richards to his feet and sling him into the ropes; Alex ducks under the attempted clothesline from the two men, comes off the other side of the ring with a full head of steam, and takes both men down with a double clothesline of his own. The Doctor stomps and kicks at Mickey, who slowly rolls out of the ring and flops off the apron, then pulls Lee up. Alex lifts the Torturer on his shoulders in an Electric Chair and starts spinning in place, while Jay moves to the high rent district. Richards dizzily stumbles toward his corner, losing his precarious balance as Omega comes off the top with a flying neckbreaker to Applechuk.

CH: GPS hit Lee Applechuk with Dazed and Confused, and this one is academic as Richards makes the cover!

ONE!

TWO!!

THREE!!!

*DING**DING**DING*

HR: Welp, you owe me fifty bucks, Craig.

CH: The fuck are you talking about?

HR: You bet me fifty bucks S&M were gonna get creamed in less than thirty seconds.

CH: They didn't even show up!

HR: But the Action Stars did, and they lost, so fuck you, pay me!

CH: Hang on a sec; Omega's calling for a microphone. Let's hear what he's got to say first.

Indeed, Jay takes a microphone from a stagehand, but has to wait a few moments for the small crowd to settle enough for him to be heard over the raucous cheers and dueling chants of "GPS!" and "X-Dub-F!". Finally, the fans quiet down, and Omega raises the mic to his lips.

Jay Omega: Hey yo.

Immediately, the crowd pops again.

JO: I don't think I need to introduce myself or my partner here, but just in case you've been living under a rock for the last twenty years, I'm Jay Omega, this is Alex Richards, and together, we comprise the Guardians Protection Services; no matter your target, the GPS will find them. We're still working on our tagline.

HR: It definitely still needs work.

JO: But Alex and I didn't come here tonight and potato the fuck out of these two prelim bums just for funsies, or because we were hired to by their original opponents. No, Alex and I graced this shitty bingo hall with our presence in order to make a statement. To deliver a message to the four people we will be facing on May 20th, at the Spectrum Center in Charlotte, North Carolina, and that message is simple; your time has passed. May 20th marks the dawn of a new era in tag team wrestling, as Alex and I move one step closer to our predestined date with the Just-Us League.

The crowd pops again at the mention of the XWF Tag Team Champions.

JO: Yeah, I like 'em, too. But that ain't gonna stop Alex and I from demolishing them. First, though, we've got to go through two teams of former Tag Champs, and what teams they are! There's Sarah Lacklan and Angelica Vaughn, whom I'll get to in a moment, and then there's the Bastards, whom I hear aren't very good. I'll start with them. But first, doobie snacks.

Jay pulls his ever-present black case and gold Zippo from his pockets, sparks up a blunt, and takes a few hits before passing it off to Alex and continuing.

JO: It's my understanding there's a whole band of them Bastards, and we're being treated to the duo of ol' Whiskey Dick, and his buddy Nickleback. Y'know, because he's ugly, and everybody hates him. Shit, hold on… Nickleback and Whiskey Dick? Jeez, it's like the summer I was 19 all over again! There's even a pale goth chick who's gonna go home disappointed! The difference being, Lacklan will be disappointed because of my performance, and not the lack thereof. Sorry if that was too personal; I overshare sometimes.

Omega takes the blunt back from Alex, and begins to slowly pace around in the ring while addressing his opponents.

JO: Back to the topic at hand; Whiskey Dick, you should thank Alex and I; after we stomp the shit out of you and Nickleback, you're probably gonna fail upward into your 82nd undeserved Universal title shot of the year. We're doing you a favour, really. And Nickleback can go back to being irrelevant outside of his usual shtick of 'sideshow act to more talented competitors". Because, let me tell you, I ain't impressed by a couple of third string title runs almost two years ago, no matter how long you held the strap. If Nickleback were capable of getting shit done on his own these days, maybe I'd have a little more respect for him. Probably not, but who knows?

Jay passes the dwindling blunt off to Alex as he walks past, then stops at a corner and leans back against the turnbuckle.

JO: But I would be remiss if I didn't talk a little shit about Team Vaucklan; Little Miss Rat Eyes, and the Vaughnemous One. Saving the best for last… Well, the best of our competitors; Alex and I are obviously the best in the match overall. Sure, Sarah's got herself a long list of accolades in the XWF, while Alex and I don't. Of course, we're still relatively new to the XWF, already got ourselves a title shot, and neither of us is carrying a dead weight partner through this triple tag match. Sorry, Angie, but you are the weakest link in the shindig; I consider Whiskey Dick and Nickleback a pair of bumbling idiots, but I'm taking them a little more seriously than you. It's nothing personal, you're just the least accomplished person involved. Also the youngest, though, so you've got plenty of time to grow yet. You can take a very valuable lesson from the ass-whoopin' you're about to receive.

Jay drops the mic, and the scene cuts to black.

Official List of XWF Achievements and Accomplishments

I ain't done shit.

Yet.