EPW Presents AFTERSHOCK!!!

[Malicia Savage]

Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we go for the first time behind the scenes of Affliction to give you, the viewing audience, a glimpse as to what happens when the cameras stop rolling... this is...

EPW AFTERSHOCK!

After the shocking developments at Affliction, we knew that tonight would be the perfect time to keep the cameras rolling. And it didn't take long before things got a little on the crazy and destructive side. Want to see what we mean? A word of warning... if you've got kids, might want to get them out of the rom now, because what you see back here is one hundred percent UNCENSORED and, in some cases, may not be suitable for younger audiences. Viewer and parental discretion is highly recommended.

The cameras have been alerted to a series of banging noises coming out of one of the locker rooms. The banging is getting a lot louder as we approach the locker room that is being used tonight by Malicia Savage. The door's just slightly open, so let's see if we can sneak a peek and find out what's going on.

The source of the noise becomes pretty obvious once we get a look in the room as Malicia is pounding her fists with everything she's got into one of the metal lockers, which right now is definitely dented beyond recognition and probably won't be usable for quite some time. Sure hope nobody else was planning to use that for a while. Her sister Callista is standing back, realizing that trying to calm down this six-foot-two, two-hundred-plus pound Human Weapon is not exactly the wisest course of action. Not when she's in this mood.

The banging finally stops when Malicia steps back, her breathing heavy as she surveys her battered, bloodied knuckles. Right now the adrenaline is flowing way too fast for her to even contemplate feeling anything resembling pain.

Callista: Feeling any better?

Malicia's face seems frozen in a vicious snarl.

Callista: Nuff said. We knew something like this was bound to happen, you know.

Malicia: Yeah. I gave them my back and they stabbed me right in it. The first time I've been pinned in the ring since coming back to the States and all because of those two.

Callista nods somberly, her eyes darting to the battered steel chair that rests in the corner. The one she used earlier on.

Callista: That bitch got lucky, you know.

Malicia: Yeah. She's still fucking breathing. Same with her brain-dead boyfriend. Next time we'll be ready, and we won't show any sort of restraint. They want to play, fine. We play. You, me...

Malicia reaches beside the locker and grabs the leather-covered, metal-studded kendo stick that she was brandishing earlier.

Malicia: And Precious.

Malicia grips the weapon with both hands, holding it like a samurai with his blade just before heading into battle. She seems more composed now, but one look in her eyes says that she is still seeing red after what happened earlier- when her own partners turned their backs on her when she needed them.

Malicia: The next time I see either of those two, they won't be able to run. They'll have nowhere to hide. Precious wants blood. I want blood. And I am damn sure going to get it. To hell with respect or sportsmanship. Fuck all that. They just went and made this personal. Nobody stabs this Human Weapon in the back. Not without dire, devastating and hellaciously... SAVAGE... consequences. Madman and Ariel want a fight? They've got one. Their 8-Bit Beatdown is nothing compared to the 128-bit, high-definition BLOODBATH that's coming straight for them. They want a war.. and I'll give them one they won't believe.. and they will NEVER survive.

Damn...please tell me we got all that. We did? Sweet. Now let's get the hell out of here before Malicia decides to unleash some of that rage on us.

[Trémo La'Crow]

(CUTTO: TRÉMO LA'CROW sitting on a bench backstage, drinking a beer.)

TRÉMO: "Get that f(bleep)ing camera out of my face!"

(He swipes at the lens.)

(CUT.)

[Madman Szalinski]

05.09.2010 - Post Affliction Footage

"Who the hell am I? What is happening to me?"

I spit onto the concrete floor of the crowded locker room. Bobby Heenan once said 'WCW, WWF, doesn't matter where you work, every locker room is the same. Just a bunch of naked people.'

"Well, fuck Bobby Heenan and fuck you too."

A couple of people looked over at me, but I don't care. I had my shoulder straps down on my singlet, and one boot off. Not even bothering to undo the other boot or to remove any of the rest of my gear, I merely continued playing with the straps on my other kickpad whilst lamenting out loud. Nobody paid attention to me, because I was in the one place where people didn't bust nuts when I walked into the room: a room full of bigger stars than me. And speaking of bigger, I now have much more confidence in myself after seeing the bulk of EPW's roster nude.

"Why was I chosen to be the man I am today? Couldn't somebody else have done the things I am asked to do? Was there no better candidate for this position? Am I really the best you can do, God? Why? Why did you have to give me the wisdom you have given me, that I may understand the true nature of the skilled hands I control? Why have you ignited my heart, set ablaze passion I shall never be truly able to quench? The fires will always burn, not resting or sleeping for an instant. For the rest of my life I will carry this torch.

Ripping my kickpad off, I tossed it down onto the bench beside me. Now, I looked dead into the camera and started to unwrap my hands.

"This is not a life to be patronized. While the rest of the world may rejoice in the things they have gained, I must punish myself for the things I have lost, for that is what is expected of me. I have no home, only more white lines, more cockroaches in motel bathrooms, more of the same empty horizons in front of me and behind me. I have been told to keep telling myself I must not quit, for the rewards are tremendous. Whether I pursue life, liberty, or happiness, I shall find it - but only after staining my hands with the blood of the innocent. The only ones who survive are shells of their former selves, but will be shrouded with the banners of their accomplishments, heralded by their mere appearances among society."

I stretched out a piece of the tape, about two foot in length. It was that semi-elastic shit.

"Well, guys, I've been thinking long and hard about this. And I have two choices."

"One is to give this up and walk away, to just admit that I'm really not up for this. Malicia and Callista, you two have got me thinking. And it hasn't all been good. Ariel is in the shower right now barely able to hold herself up. Her leg has a bruise on it the size of a fucking melon, and that's after all this time. She has been taking the blunt end of my whole plan, and she didn't do a God damn thing to deserve it. I was the one you wanted! Why didn't you and Malicia come after me? Why wasn't I the one who got his ass kicked? Not even bringing in Darren helped, you two still got to her. But why her? I'm right here, you stupid bitches! Come get some!"

I slammed my fist into my chest hard on the last three words, before remembering to use my indoor voice.

"The second is to go to that place I swore to the Lord I would never go. I've pretended to kill a lot of people for TV, but in real life I am not the type of man who enjoys that kind of cockadookie. I can't be brutal to people...or, I don't want to be. See, for some reason now when I hit the bags, I do it and I wish the bag was a human being. When I throw a bar of weights up into the air, I wish I was tossing my opponent up like a pizza crust. I want to slam haters like Onyx. I wanna be like Mike. I'm bouncing off the ropes faster than the blink of an eye. One two three four rope. One two three four rope. One two three four rope. But I run faster now than ever before. I bounce with more elasticity into the ropes, I come off with the force of a thousand comets. OnetwothreefourROPE. OnetwothreefourROPE. I feel like I am the wind and the force of gravity itself, as if no natural force yet alone any man could stop me. Project Revolution? He's a cross between Fergie and Jeff Hardy compared to the wind that is beneath MY wings. Kris Keebler? Mere powdered sugar as the dust from my heels clouds the air, making its own arena as the gods seem to mark out for me. But I come crashing down, I realize that I have nobody ti hit. Nobody to run into. And I start thinking...damn. I'm getting kind of...mad."

Heh...I started laughing. Just cracked up. Like, the first time I ever heard Uncle Ruckus speak laughed.

"That's my other choice I was talking about. I can just get mad..."

Now I'm laughing like I just saw Walk Hard for the first time.

"We all get...a little....bit...mad...sometimes."

I stopped laughing just long enough to stare into the camera, like I wanted to reach through the case and just snatch the lens out, because the lens is the closest I can come to grabbing you, the viewer, by the eye. I want to snatch you by the back of the fucking head, make you look at me. I am pissed the fuck off. Who the fuck are you? You think this is funny? Did you get a good laugh at me, hee haw bwa-SHUT THE FUCK UP! You laughed because I wanted you to, and now you get to listen for a second.

You think I'm living a nice, awesome life? I just get to sit on the Internet, tell people about how I think stuff nobody else has heard of in the past ten years is cool? I get to go from town to town with my hot girlfriend and beat up people for a living? You know why I do this and not you? Because I know what the fuck I'm doing. If you threw a punch at me, it would miss by about nine inches from hitting me where I plan on hitting you with the bottom of my palm: that nice chewy spot between your fucking jaw and your fucking cheekbone. I know what I'm doing, and you're the one who sits there and watches me do it, like you just did tonight when I put the entire JBW roster to sleep.

Of course, you don't even know it yet. Because, as far as you know, I might just go ahead and say "fuck this." I might walk away now, because I'm doubting myself and I don't think I'm that good. Well, the truth is, I am as good as I want to be. I don't want to be the best because I know how hard being the best can be. So that means I have to be a pretty big douchebag about things. Like I haven't already, right? The Savages seem to think I suck. Well, I got something for those two.

Carry on.

[Madman Szalinski]

07.04.10 - Post-Independence Footage

"HOLY CRAP MOTHER OF BALLS THAT WAS AWESOME!!!"

Madman Szalinski is seen in the line at the concession stand, backstage in Boston for Independence. He is still in his ring gear and mask, pausing his exuberant celebration only for a few seconds to alternate slamming down a large cherry Icee and a chili dog while scores of fans surrounding him egg him on. Ariel Shadows, holding the camera, yells over at him.

"That was great!"

"I know, that was like...that was like beating all of the Final Fantasy games at the same time. If I liked all of the Final Fantasy games...AW WHO CARES? I FUCKIN' WON! OH MY GOD I ACTUALLY WON!"

Madman reaches over the counter for some popcorn, throwing the entire bucket in the air upside-down and catching as much of it with his mouth as he can, fans rushing in for handfuls. He then takes some more of his Icee, brushing off the popcorn on the lid, and runs out into the hallway, grabbing a security guard by the shoulders.

"I WON! SHITFUCKGODDAMNSONOFSATAN I WON!"

Ariel snickers behind the camera, and ends the recording.