Title: The Ultimate ASS!

Featuring: Crimson O’Malec, Paddy O’Shea, & ???

Authors: Michael Doherty & Richie Synger

Position: Beginning of Fresh! (prior to *ALL* of Crimson O’Malec’s segments)

As the Relentless Champion, Crimson O’Malec walks around in the backstage parking lot, the arena erupts into cheers for the Poet. It seems the Champion is enjoying some time by himself as he strolls back and forth past a set of double doors that lead into the arena. The still air is cold enough to make his breathing patterns visible.

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> Hmm, where is he?

As if on cue, a set of headlights stream into the parking garage, blinding O’Malec in the process. An old Irish folk tune breaks the still air as a decrepit mobile home heads straight towards Crimson. O’Malec stands completely still, gazing into the headlights, almost as if he was entranced. The mobile home comes to a halt as the headlights vanish. Out of the driver-side’s door steps the Man from the Caravan himself, Paddy O’Shea.

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> Hey there, lad! Sorry if aye’m just a wee bit late! Feckin’ traffic is horrible, ya know?

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> Yeah, I know what you mean.

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> But, how about this, lad? Since aye was late, aye decided t’ give ye a gift!

Crimson stares at Paddy confused for a moment as O’Shea heads to the very back of his caravan. As Paddy begins to unlock the back doors of the caravan, livid roars emit from the inside, causing the mobile home to tremble from side to side. O’Malec is taken aback by this and literally jumps back a few inches. O’Shea, however, acts as if everything is okay and continues to unbolt the doors.

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> Umm… Paddy?

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> (yelling) Yes, lad?

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> What exactly is my… …gift? It’s not a bear, or a lion, or anything is it?

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> (yelling) No, lad! Ye’ll love it, aye promise! It’ll be fantastic! Just you wait and see! It is much better than a bear or a lion. Matter of fact, they call it the <I>Black Lion</I>.

Crimson’s eyes literally almost bulge right out of his head due to Paddy’s response. The Black Lion? What on God’s green earth could O’Shea possibly be referring to? Whatever it was, Crimson was sure it couldn’t have been anything good.

. . .

Or could it?

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> Christ on a cross! Those doors were feckin’ terrible t’ get open! Come on out, lad!

Paddy motions to something inside of the caravan to emerge. Responding obediently, the quaking of the caravan proves the occupant within the mobile home is beginning to exit. As the caravan inhabitant emerges, he follows Paddy’s lead to the forefront of his vehicle where the Relentless Champion is still standing.

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> See? This is my gift t’ ye, Crimson!

Paddy turns around to point his finger at a beast of a man. The man stands almost seven feet tall, and looks to weigh close to four hundred pounds. A fellow Irishman he is, as it’s obvious to his attire, which is similar to stereotypical leprechaun clothes. Though, this beast is no leprechaun, that’s for sure. If his sheer, massive size and weight wasn’t enough to strike fear into the bravest man’s heart, then perhaps the eerie mask he wore to cover his face did. Though, there was nothing too frightening about his mask, it was the questions behind the mask that were eerie.

Why did he wear this mask? What is he hiding? The mask in itself covered his head completely, with only holes to allow his eyes and mouth to be seen. Even they could hard be seen as the mask was made to shield as much of his face as possible. The mask itself was pure green all over with a vertical white stripe going down the center. Plastered across this white stripe was an orange shamrock with three leaflets. The left and right leaflets both occupied an eyelet on their respective sides. The three colors of Ireland – green, white, and orange – stood dominant among his entire apparel.

Crimson’s astonishment is evident due to the horrified look amongst his face. As small as he was, standing at just above five feet tall, this enormous, masked Irishman standing before him was like gazing into the Heavens, speaking to God.

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> Wh—Wha—What <I>is</I> it? He! I mean, <I>he</I>.

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> This here is a good mate of mine, all the way back from Eire Og itself. His name is Alistaire Seamus Sheridan, it is. Though, we usually refer t’ him as ARSE. Just look at his initials, lad! A – S – S. ARSE! That be feckin’ brilliant, aye tells ya.

The behemoth, simply referred to as ARSE by Paddy, grunts in response to show his approval.

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> O—Okay. How exactly is he a present, though?

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> Well, aye figured, since you have that there belt on ye hands, and might quite possibly have another on ye hands at Solarized, aye figured a wee bit of protection for ye wouldn’t hurt. Ya know, people are gunnin’ for ya. Ye truly never know who’s waitin’ around the corner for ya.

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> Okay. So, he’s pretty much here to watch my back if things get rough? That’s cool. I appreciate it, Paddy. Though, I usually can handle my own.

Crimson eyeballs the monster before looking back at Paddy.

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> So, what’s his name again?

<b>Paddy O’Shea:</b> Ye can refer t’ him as ARSE, if ye want. He definitely doesn’t mind.

Crimson glances back up into the never-ending eyes of the Black Lion.

<b>Crimson O’Malec:</b> ASS, is it? Okay, ASS. You’re here to watch my back? Good. Like I just told Paddy, I can usually handle my own. But if things get out of hand, I want you to control the situation. Does that sound good?

ASS simply roars in response as Crimson shivers from the tingling sensation running through his spine. Emerald Isle and the newest AWC superstar Alistaire Seamus Sheridan, or apparently better known as <I>ASS</I>, advance through the double doors that lead into the Wesbanco Arena.