WELCOME TO GLOBAL
An aerial camera zooms in on the GLOBAL Studios lot in Hollywood. Stage 49 has been specifically and specially redecorated for tonight. They’ve kitted the normally-white sound stage out in gold from the outside with ‘GLOBAL’ written in large black letters.
A booming voice: “Welcome to Hollywood, everyone, and the world-famous GLOBAL Studios here.”
There are two tiers with the top one being covered in some oakwood to reflect the name and its relationship with the theater where one William Shakespeare became a household name the world over. Red carpet covers the entire aisleway and fireworks are set off every couple of seconds to the screams of the capacity crowd, somewhere in the region of 2,500-3,500 fans, depending on who you ask.
The squared circle has the GLOBAL logo emblazed on it with green and blue ropes and purple turnbuckles, and now the camera focuses on three faces.
Lucas Quinn, the African American former UWE wrestler, is in all-brown suit with a white shirt and a red tie, the word ‘GLOBAL’ shining in a gold glitter: “Welcome to a new era for professional wrestling.
Welcome to a place where sport meets entertainment. An early Christmas present for wrestling fans everywhere…WELCOME TO GLOBAL! Live on GNC for our two-hour season premiere and our bosses have rolled out the red carpet, literally, and we have no idea what to expect. You just never know what – or who – might be round the corner. For example: ‘Legend’ Sean Darring is one half of the main event but has no clue who he’ll be facing and will need every bit of his experience to combat that.”
Lucas is flanked by Allie Reece and Mark ‘The Mark’ Deltzer, who is far more casual, wearing a black and white GLOBAL cap with a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. Allie has a punk-like red leather jacket to compliment her pink and blonde hair, white blouse and white dress pants.
The Mark turns to Lucas and looks up at him: “One thing we do know, Lucas, is that the first-ever GLOBAL Tag Team champions will be crowned momentarily in the company’s first-ever match, fittingly. Four teams will fight it out in what should be a Christmas cracker three weeks before Santa comes down my chimney. I cannot wait!”
Allie Reece takes her turn to talk to the folks at home: “He’s the only visitor you’re likely to get this Christmas or any Christmas, Mark. Gentlemen, I thought we were in Hollywood. Where’s my script, Mister Producer? I don’t have a clue what to expect, and I love it! Bring it on.”
Quinn chuckles while The Mark echoes Allie’s sentiments: “We’re fans at heart and are just as excited for this season premiere as you are at home.”
Lucas shakes his notes: “We’ve got some rumors over the roster. Some of those will be confirmed tonight, others will be ‘false news’ and others will persist and rumble on for weeks. Speaking of rumble, don’t go anywhere. Four teams – Best of British, The Rich Family, The Master Sisters and The Dirty Birds – are UP FIRST.”
THE VIEW FROM THE OTHER SIDE
The apple rolls past us down the sidewalk, plump and bright red and sparkling with droplets from the wet cement. I make a lunge for it, but the kid gets there first, her high squeal of triumph belying her age.
‘DIBS!!!’
Back on her feet and with the loot firmly secured within her grasp, however, she quickly regains her composure, fixing me with a cocksure smirk. ‘Sorry, homes…too slow. Ya snooze, ya lose.’ She makes as if to take a bite out of it, but stops herself short, the smirk changing to a wide, childish grin.
‘Just kiddin’.’
She scrubs the apple on the sleeve of her oversized hoodie – arguably just making it dirtier – and tosses it at me. ‘You the man with the knife, papi. Do ya thing.’
I grin back at her, my standard-issue Army knife already in hand. One neat slice later, the kid and I each have a roughly similar-sized chunk of apple to delightedly bite into.
‘Best fuckin’ apple I had in a while’, the kid states through a smiling mouthful of pale yellow. She leans forward to look past my folded knees, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. ‘I seen where it’s come from, too. Fruit place, right up there.’ Resolve suddenly streaks across her features as she pulls herself back up to a standing position. ‘In fact, know what? Hold up here a second, I’mma run up there an’ get some more.’
I am just in time to grab at her sleeve before it is too late. ‘WHOA, whoa, whoa, whoa! No, you’re not. I know you ain’t got money to pay for ’em.’
Her only response is a dry chuckle, coupled with another smirk. ‘I don’t need no money. I’m ’bout to get myself a five-fingered discount.’
‘No. You’re. NOT’, I retort, tugging at her sleeve with each word, for emphasis. ‘C’mon, kid.You wanna ruin this thing for us before we’ve even got it?’
‘What THING?’ She is no longer amused. ‘Ain’t no THING. Not yet, anyways…’
‘Yeah, but imagine there IS’. I jerk my head at the building across the street, one of the many similar ones in this particular part of town. ‘You really want the guy who runs that grocery store to tell everyone in there he caught you stealing before your job interview?’ I jerk my head again, this time downwards, motioning her to sit back down. ‘You gotta THINK about this kind of stuff, Angel…’
To her credit, she clearly IS thinking about it – and, from the look on her face, quickly deciding against it. Seeing my chance, I swoop in to seal the deal.. ‘Besides, if we get this gig, we’re gonna have enough money that you can buy every damn type of fruit they got in that store, and still have some left over for Twinkies and chocolate bars.’
‘Yeah, and your smokes…’ Her grin tells me her mind has gone off the idea, and the worst is over. Still, I have to be careful: she’s been known to change her mind at the drop of a dime. I had better try some sort of diversion, make sure she’s REALLY not thinking about it.
‘So…you know what you’re gonna say once we go in there?’
‘Yeah.’ She smirks again, wiping bits of apple from her lips with her sleeve. ‘Nothin’. I’m gonna sit pretty an’ let you do the talkin’, so I don’t say nothin’ stupid and blow it for both of us.’ Her tone is sing-song and sarcastic, but I am not humoring her on this. Not after the shitshow at the auto-shop.
‘Right. Now, you ready?’
She gives me one of her patented sarcastic looks. ‘Nah, fam. I got a three o’clock at the hair salon, an’ then I gotta get my nails done, and buy a new dress an’ shoes an’ a Baby Louis Vuitton.’ Then, rolling her eyes: ‘Let’s just do this shit, already.’
‘OK. You go on ahead. Be right behind you.’
I tear one last chunk out of my apple slice, toss away the gnawed-clean core, close my eyes, take a deep breath and say a little prayer in my head. Only then do I get up and follow my partner across the street, for the meeting that could change our lives.
MIND OVER MATTER
Somewhere in Tokyo, Japan, a young blonde ‘gaijin’ woman hits a worn-out wrestling mat face-first, and HARD. As her left cheek connects with the now threadbare surface, a voice cuts through the ringing in her ears:
‘GodDAMMIT, kid! Fuckin’ CONCENTRATE!’
‘I AM concentratin”, the girl growls, shooting her interloper a baleful glare as she pulls herself up to her feet and runs her arm under her bottom lip to wipe away the spittle and blood.
‘You’re not even TRYING’, comes the matter-of-fact reply. ‘Your mind’s so far out in space, you might as well be on fuckin’ Mars.’ The speaker – a taller, more muscular, significantly older version of the young blonde with piercing steel-blue eyes, a lined and weathered face and a commanding aura about her – steps in closer to her understudy, arms folded crossly in front of her. ‘So stop thinking about Whatsisname, and get your goddamn mind back down to Earth. Otherwise I’m gonna say fuck it and go back to the couch and watch ‘Andor’ with Alpha.’
‘Like hell you is’, the younger woman spits. ‘We watchin’ that shit together.’
‘Yeah, well…you should’a been thinking about that, instead of Whatsisface…’
‘Fuck you’, the youngster snarls. ‘Just ’cause you ain’t never had none, don’t mean I gotta!’
‘Who says I ain’t never had none?’ The older woman chuckles humourlessly. ‘Ask him who his fuckin’ Dad was seeing right before he split up with his mother…!’
It is the youngster’s turn to chuckle, more of a snort or scoff than anything remotely resembling mirth. ‘Bull. Sheeeeet.’
Surprisingly, the older woman does not rise up to the bait, merely shrugging as she retorts:
‘Like I said…ask him. Aren’t you two going back and forth on Twitter all the time? Well, next time you’re doing that shit, get that in there somewhere. See what he fuckin’ tells you.’
‘Man, whatever’. It is the youngster’s turn to shrug. ‘Shit’s his bizniss, not mine.’
‘Yeah, well, that other shit’s MY business, and it didn’t stop you calling me out on it…’
‘That shit’s different, tho’…’ The youth’s earnest tone visibly puzzles her older counterpart.
‘Oh yeah?’ The older blonde cocks a quizzical eyebrow. ‘How?’
The girl shrugs again. ‘Well, ’cause you my coach…’
‘Uh-huh. And that makes my business your business?’
‘Yeah…pretty much…’
‘So, your coach’s business is your business, and important to know about and shit…but your GODDAMN PARTNER’s ain’t?’ This visibly throws off the youngster’s hitherto cocksure demeanor, causing the older woman to chuckle and shake her head in disbelief. ‘You ever listen to yourself, kid? ‘Cause the shit that comes out your mouth sometimes, I swear…’
The younger blonde seems poised to reply, but her elder does not give her that chance. ‘Right. From the top. We got less than a week to get you ready for this Hollywood shit, and you ain’t even CLOSE to ready for prime time yet.’
With that – and despite the youngster’s attempts to get a word in edgewise and close out the argument – the duo resume their training session, with the only words spoken from there on out being about the various drills performed.
THE BEST OF BRITISH Vs THE RICH FAMILY
Vs THE DIRTY BIRDS Vs THE MASTER SISTERS
‘Rule Britannia’ plays for the second time in the space of a few minutes, and the Best of British back n the ring – now in more suitable wrestling attire – soaking up the boos from the crowd, and waiting for their opponents to make an appearance.
And they do not have to wait very long, as fairly soon the crowd erupts for the fan-favourite Rich Family. And Freddie, Todd, Declan and Donny certainly return the love, pumping up the fans in the higher stands even as they slap hands and interact with those at floor level. Rupert and Nigel watch with a deprecating smirk from their vantage position inside the ring as the four man engage in a full lap of the ringside area, before the two actual contestants climb the steps and occupy their position in the corner, pointedly ignoring the snide whispers and pointing fingers of the two Englishmen.
No sooner have the Riches taken their spots than the main theme from the Disney film ‘The Mighty Ducks’ starts up on the Titantron, heralding the arrival of a young man and woman in matching hockey jerseys themed after the movie’s titular junior hockey team. These are Ross Hanson and Hayley ‘The Raven’ Robinson, otherwise known as the Dirty Birds, whose earnest, fired-up attitude earns them an ovation from the crowd – even BEFORE Hanson enters the ring and takes off his shirt, exhibiting an impressive set of abs, which draws a squeal from the female contingent in assistance. The male portion of the audience then holds their breath as Robinson does the same thing herself…only to let out a sound halfway between relief and disappointment as the youngster is revealed to be wearing a customised Slayer sports bra/crop top underneath. Well aware of this, Hayley has a brief mocking finger-wag towards the crowd, which she promptly turns into an equally playful middle-finger bird, to a surprisingly warm reaction. She then throws her own hockey shirt in the corner, over Ross’s, before joining her partner behind the turnbuckle to discuss strategy; unlike the Rich boys, however, she is definitely not immune to Rupert and Nigel’s mocking demeanour, and it takes all of Hanson’s best efforts to prevent her from getting in their face about it.
Any further escalation is, however, cut short as ‘Love is a Parasyte’ by Blanck Mass starts up, announcing the arrival of the fourth and final duo of contestants in the match, the Master Sisters. Soon afterward, the three women appear on the entrance ramp, their demeanours vastly different as they begin to make their way to the ring: ‘Dr.’ Carnival Dawn gets her kicks mouthing off to fans from her much larger sister’s shoulders, and spraying them with soda from a hose connected to a soda fountain, as said sister, Moonlight, merely looks directly ahead, her face set into a scowl of concentration. By their side, Aurora is the very picture of scowling haughtiness, almost matching Rupert and Nigel – a demeanour she breaks only to scold her smallest sister when Dawn’s soda kernels begin to soak HER instead of the fans. By the time the three arrive in the ring, she has managed to retrieve Dawn’s soda fountain, and is looking for somewhere to dump out the contents, much to her sister’s anger. The two promptly engage in a bickering contest over the true ownership of the contraption, all while Moonlight attempts to stretch and focus on the match ahead, her eyes rolling almost to the back of her head over her sisters’ antics.
As such, when the bell rings and she is the only one of the three who appears to have heard it, she finds herself forced into the role of legal woman, stepping forward to meet Hayley Robinson, Rupert Royston-Fellowes and Freddie Rich, respectively. Predictably, there is very little by way of a reconaissance period, and even fewer pleasantries, as the four athletes waste no time engaging their opponents, the men making a beeline for each other while the women do likewise. Rupert and Freddie find themselves drawn into an old-fashioned punch-up, each aiming jabs, crosses and haymakers at the other, while poor Raven finds herself vastly outmatched against the much larger Moonlight Master, who turns the young redneck into the Loki to her Hulk, throwing her about every which way with suplexes and slams, which the brawling youth finds herself powerless to counter. As such, the opening moments of this match go very much against the fan-favourites, which find themselves on the back foot of both of the initial exchanges – so much so that Rupert soon find a way through Freddie Rich’s defenses, allowing him to get up closer with his opponent and begin displaying some of his more technical prowess, first through a belly-to-back suplex, and then a German, which he bridges into an early pin attempt. The referee slides in…
ONE!
TW—kickout by Rich!
Oddly enough, this is where things begin to turn around for the fan-favourite, as, after being brought up to his feet again by Rupert, he manages to land a knee shot, which throws his opponent off just enough that Rich is able to capitalize with a facebuster! Then, as Fellowes hits the mat face-first, and to a huge ovation from the crowd, Freddie runs the ropes and, after checking the Brit is pulling himself to one knee, connects with a leg lariat, sending him sprawling to the canvas once more!
As all this is going on, a mere few feet away, Hayley the Raven has found herself unable to follow her male counterpart’s lead, as Moonlight continues to manhandle her, throwing her into the near turnbuckle before connecting with a running splash. From the outside, Aurora barks an approving ‘again!’, and Moonlight promptly seeks to oblige, this time whipping Hayley into the Masters’ own corner. Here, however, the smaller wrestler sees a chance, and dodges out of the way of the oncoming impact, sending Moonlight herself into the turnbuckle! Momentarily caught off-guard, the biggest of the Master Sisters promptly turns around…only to get hit with a splash herself!
Unbeknownst to Hayley, however, Dr. Carnival – who has finally stopped bickering with Aurora about the soda fountain, instead helping her sister gleefully pour its contents over the Spanish announce team, drenching them in cheap supermarket-brand Diet Cola – has blind-tagged herself into the match, and wastes no time literally leaping into action, flying off the turnbuckle with a sunset flip that catches Hayley by surprise and sends her literally head over heels into a pinning predicament! The referee once again slides in…
ONE!
TW—and a kickout by the Redneck Raven!
As Ross practically invades the ring screaming for Hayley to come tag him, Carnival Dawn rolls through to her own feet, looking to continue the spell of dominance her sister had instated. To this effect, she begins by dropkicking Hayley in the face – in a move remarkably similar to one Rich just employed against Rupert Royston-Fellowes moments earlier – before running over to the far turnbuckle, monkeying her way up it, and waiting perched for Hayley to slowly pull herself to her feet…only to take her down again with a missile dropkick! Clearly pleased with herself, the diminutive wrestler takes a moment to grandstand, bigging herself up to a crowd who does not seem entirely appreciative of her antics, clearly still miffed about being soaked in 20-pence-a-bottle Cola earlier. Still, the superstar does not let this affect her, taking her sweet time to extol her own virtues – with her sister Aurora’s backing from ringside – before once again turning towards Hayley…
…and almost getting turned inside out by a HUGE lariat, that would have made Hayley’s mentor proud!
The tables finally turned, ‘The Raven’ wastes no time capitalizing on her new-found advantage, sliding in with a baseball slide which sends Carnival tumbling out of the ring, then quickly following her opponent to the outside herself,
Meanwhile, across the ring, the two men continue to fight, Rupert having regained the advantage over the fan-favourite Rich, who he has trapped in the Best of British corner and is punishing with sundry punches and knee shots, seeking to wear him down. Then, as the fan-favourite slides down onto a seated position, he adds in a few under-the-radar stomps, before allowing his partner to join in on the fun, presenting the hapless Rich to him on a silver platter. Nigel graciously obliges, and the two engage in the tandem beatdown they labelled The Downtrodding. Surprisingly, the referee does not appear in any hurry to prevent the two-on-one beatdown, and the British duo is therefore able to amuse themselves to their heart’s content before – after five interminable seconds – Rupert retreats behind the tag rope, leaving Nigel as the leading man.
As the second half of the Best of British sizes up his opponent, on the outside, Hayley has run up against a flaw in her plan to devolve the match into a brawling contest – namely, that there is an extra Master Sister to reckon with on the outside, and one who, as she soon makes clear, is anything but reluctant to get involved in the proceedings. ‘The Raven’ therefore finds the odds stacked against her, especially after Moonlight, not willing to stand idle as her sisters fight, joins the fray herself. To her credit, however, the young redneck does not back down, doing her best to hold her own against the three women on the opposing team, even if she is visibly struggling. Just as she begins to falter, however, the odds are somewhat evened by the involvement of her tag team partner, who appoints himself as the only male element in this brawl by engaging the biggest of the Sisters, and managing to keep her at bay. This promptly causes Carnival to divert her attention away from Raven and jump on the male Bird’s back, screaming at the top of her lungs for him to leave her sister alone, as she is only a kid. This, in turn, leaves Hayley an opening to deck Aurora with a clothesline, before lunging forward to peel Carnival off Ross. The force of her motion nearly causes all three wrestlers to stumble, but Ross instinctively shrugs his shoulders, making his partner’s task easier. With Dawn about to land on her, Hayley thinks on her feet, and throws the smallest Sister over with a suplex, causing her to smash against the barricade and land on top of her fallen sibling.
Two out of three foes dealt with, Hayley then promptly joins Ross in dealing with the third Master Sister, who – as luck would have it – has just been rocked by a strike from the male half of the Dirty Birds. Seeing their chance, the two youths surge forward with stereo lariats, decking the big woman and effectively defusing what hád started out as a somewhat sticky situation. Elated with themselves, the two take a moment to indulge in a celebration of sorts, low-fiving one another before bumping chests, knocking noggins and sharing their excitement with the crowd, who gets suitably pumped up and is happy to respond in kind. Then, their Bash Brothers (or is it Smash Siblings?) moment out of the way, they promptly make their way back to their own corner, where Hayley tags in Ross, allowing him to join in on what can now be classed as somewhat of a sausagefest. In no hurry to join the fray now that his partner is safe, the second-generation heir of Madman Szalinski and Ariel Shadows is more than happy to simply observe from the turnbuckle, occasionally sharing an observation with his partner – and, once, having to dodge out of the way as Nigel Kensington III comes hurtling into their turnbuckle, closely followed by an onrushing Freddie Rich, who connects with the First Class dropkick! He covers, Ross clearly debating whether it is worth breaking up the pin as the ref slides in…
ONE!
TWO!
…and Hanson has his mind made up for him, as Rupert Royston-Fellowes literally stomps in to break the pin iand save his lifelong friend!
As the Brit checks to see whether his friend is all right, Hanson finally decides to join the fray, first by helping Freddie Rich to his feet and then – after exchanging a look with his fellow fan-favourite – by joining forces with him to dump Fellowes to the outside! Then, still working together, the two men bring the dazed Kensington to his feet, and give him the exact same treatment!
With that particular spot of bother dealt with, the two men are now free to engage each other one-on-one – a prospect which the crowd seems to relish. Before any blows are dealt, however, Freddie Rich steps forward, offering Ross a handshake…
…which his fellow generational superstar accepts, to the delight of the fans in attendance!
Their pact of sportsmanship sealed, the two wrestlers finally engage one another, tying up. After a rather evenly matched back-and-forth – the two men being virtually the same size – the much fresher Hanson ends up gaining the upper hand, forcing Rich into the far turnbuckle, where he manages to connect with a running cannonball flip senton! He stands up, the camera capturing the huge grin on his features as he backs up for another… which Rich manages to dodge out of the way of, gaining Ross’s back as his opponent goes sprawling into the turnbuckle backside-first! Using his ring expertise, Freddie then immediately capitalises on his vantage position by pulling Hanson up, grabbing him in a hammerlock position, and connecting with a hammerlock DDT! The Son of Madman faceplants, and his fellow fan-favourite quickly follows up with a fist drop to the back of Ross’s head, before turning him over and covering!
ONE!
TW—Hayley Robinson with the save!
As ‘The Raven’ quickly slides back out of the ring, Freddie once again brings Hanson to his knees, visibly pondering his next move…
…only for his opponent to spring to life, pushing him off with a headbutt to the stomach before connecting with a huge lariat! Taken by surprise, Freddie goes sprawling onto the mat, and it is Ross’s turn to capitalize by connecting with a jumping forearm across the Rich family member’s chest! He remains on top of Rich for the cover!
ONE!
TW—
—Hanson gets pulled out of the ring by the two members of Best of British!!
The fans gasp, then boo their disapproval as the two men exert their revenge on the Son of Madman, connecting with stereo clothesline to take him down, before engaging in a ringside Downtrodding! Seeing this, the nearby Raven promptly seeks to intervene, twisting Kensington around to face her and appearing fully intent on engaging the much larger man…
…whose eyes suddenly shift upwards, a smirk appearing across his features.
Hayley barely has a moment to mentally process this information before she, too, is sprawling to the ground, the result of a chair shot from Aurora Master. The crowd’s boos become deafening, totally overpowering Carnival’s triumphant yell of ‘take THAT!’, as the Sisters and the brothers-from-another-mother exchange a quick look…
…before Freddie Rich comes crashing down on top of all of them!
The crowd erupt as seven of the eight wrestlers involved in the match pile up in the corner, in various states of consciousness.
Predictably, Freddie is the first of the downed wrestlers to begin budging, the rest being all but knocked unconscious. He pulls himself to his feet, shaking the cobwebs, and begins to stumble towards the ring, sliding under the bottom rope just as, below, Moonlight Master and the Best of British begin to stir themselves. Faced with no opposition for the foreseeable future, the worn-out Rich chooses, rather than to wait for one of his opponents to come to, to instead limp across the ring and tag in his fresh tag team partner and brother, Todd, whose first chance it is to get involved in this match!
With no opposition yet in sight – the three Brits only just pulling themselves to their feet – Donnie is free to lean against the ropes for a few moments, hyping up the already ecstatic crowd, who respond in kind. Meanwhile, on the outside, Rupert and Nigel have now fully regained consciousness, but appear in no hurry to re-enter the ring; in fact, after a few moments of private conference, they visibly decide for the exact opposite, turning their backs to the mat and beginning to make their way up the ramp, their derisive facial expressions and hand motions indicating they do not deem it worthy to continue on with the match, and have chosen to leave of their own accord. This, predictably, is met with disapproval from the crowd, who grace the British duo with a chant of ‘GROW SOME BALLS!’ Rupert and Nigel, however, refuse to rise to the bait, instead doggedly continuing on their way to the back; after a few moments, they have disappeared behind the curtain, leaving the remainder of the match to be contested between three teams.
In the ring, Todd Rich, who seems just as disapproving of the two men’s choice as the rest of the arena, has very little time to process what is happening, as he soon finds himself having to contend with the biggest of the Master Sisters. This visibly throws him off, presumably since Moonlight is a member of the ‘fairer sex’ – and he ends up paying for it, as the blonde has no such qualms, and knocks him over with a big clothesline! As she goes to pull him to his feet, Rich’s own inhibitions are gone, and he lands a high knee to Moonlight’s stomach, reeling her enough that he is able to reverse the momentum of the match, actually picking his opponent up and throwing her in the air, before connecting with a pop-up kick! Moonlight goes sprawling to the mat, and Donnie gains a precious few seconds to consider his next move; then, seemingly having made up his mind, he picks the biggest of the Master Sisters up, drives her to the ropes, and connects with a crisp and beautifully executed slingshot belly-to-back suplex, one of his signature moves! Moonlight lands back-first on the mat, and Todd slides in for the cover…
ONE!
TWO!
…kickout by Moonlight Master!
The fans voice their disappointment as the stunning move fails to seal the deal and Donnie is forced to start over. Still, the generational wrestler does not seem too bothered, simply shrugging it off as if to say ‘oh well’ before once again bringing Moonlight Master to her feet and connecting with another belly-to-back suplex, a regular one this time. He then turns to face his opponent, waiting for her to bring herself back up to one knee before running in for a leg lariat; Moonlight, however, shows off her reflexes, popping up suddenly and throwing him overhead with a huge back body drop!
To his credit, however, Donnie is still fighting as he gets picked up, managing to land a few blows to Moonlight; he is, however, powerless to resist as she tosses him against the corner and prepares to run in for a big splash. It connects, causing Rich to slam against the post, in a daze; a smile on her lips, Moonlight steps back, looking for another to seal the deal…
…before getting tackled by an onrushing Ross Hanson, who is recovered and back in the match with a vengeance! The speed and impact of the move send both wrestlers to the ground, but Hanson is quick to pull himself back up, then, noticing some movement near the far turnbuckle – which turns out to be his similarly recovered partner just regaining her position behind the tag rope – looks squarely at Hayley, motioning to Moonlight and asking if she wants a piece of the Master Sister; then, when his partner nods, he walks over to their corner and tags her in, bringing ‘The Raven’ back into the match like a house of fire! A moment later, Moonlight finds herself on the receiving end of a flurry of punches, all matters of size and weight seemingly side-stepped by the young blonde’s fury; then, when one particularly hard blow causes the bigger woman to reel back a step, Hayley quickly capitalizes with a running punt, which further unbalances Moonlight, allowing the young redneck to rush in with a spinning elbow, sending the bigger blonde to the turnbuckle. Hayley thus gets to dish out a measure of revenge, as she splashes Master in the corner, just as the bigger woman had done to her earlier! The fans erupt in cheers at this sequence, and become even louder as Hayley backs up a few steps, seemingly in preparation for the corner kick she calls Raven’s Talons! Their cheers quickly die down, however, as Moonlight dodges the – admittedly telegraphed – attack, causing the redneck to connect with nothing but the steel post!
As the youngster reels from the impact, her opponent prepares to capitalize, but a yell from her team’s corner causes her to stop and glance to where her sister is calling out, perched atop the buckle, hand outstretched. It is not without an eyeroll that Moonlight acquiesces, walking over to tag her older but much smaller sister back into the fray.
As ever, Carnival seeks to make an impactful entrance, flying off the turnbuckle towards Hayley; this time, however, the redneck is ready, catching her with an arm drag which sends her sprawling across the mat! The smaller wrestler picks herself back up quickly, ducking under an incoming lariat, only to get caught and faceplanted with a big bulldog! Wasting no time, Hayley scrambles to her feet and delivers her trademark Redneck Stomp, further drilling Carnival’s face into the canvas. Then, ignoring her own partner’s urgings to cover her fallen opponent, she looks towards the nearby turnbuckle, nods to herself, and begins to ascend. She takes a moment to look down, the crowd holding their collective breath, then turns herself around and jumps off for the Raven’s Flight inverted shooting star press…
…only to crash land, as Carnival rolls out of the way!
As she brings herself to her feet, the Master Sister cannot help but gloat, directing a quick and triumphant ‘haaa!’ towards her fallen opponent, then tapping the side of her head while looking directly at ‘the Raven”s facepalming partner. As she prepares to cover the young redneck, however, she notices Donnie Rich stumbling towards her, and a mischievous grin crosses her features; she therefore quickly disposes of her still senseless opponent, dumping her to the outside, and – ignoring Aurora’s apoplectic invectives – turns her attention to the ‘third wheel’ in this match, fixing him with a defiantly amused stare. Then, seeing his reluctance to hit her, she taps her cheek, as if inviting him, while puckering her lips flirtatiously; when he still hesitates, she becomes more forceful, goading and taunting him to strike her, until he finally obliges…only for Carnival to easily dodge. Rich turns around, runs in again…and Carnival is not there; a third time…and again, no one home. Then, just as the now-dizzy generational wrestler is attempting to ascertain where exactly his opponent went, Carnival pops up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder and briefly grinning at him as she quips, ‘surprise, motherf—er!’ before hitting him with a hurricanrana! It lands, and Donnie goes sprawling over, as Carnival calls out to her sister; then, with Moonlight in position, she all but parkours up the turnbuckle, into her sister’s waiting arms…only to get launched off a moment later, in an assisted rocket launcher which sends her flying onto the Rich family member1 In perfect position for a cover, she promptly hooks the leg!
ONE!
—Ross Hanson runs out of his corner, in an attempt to break the pin!
TWO!
—Moonlight Master flies at him, intercepting him midway and handing him a receipt for the tackle from earlier, which sends them both tumbling through the ropes and out of the ring!
THR—NO!! CARNIVAL GETS PULLED OUT OF THE RING BY RUPERT ROYSTON-FELLOWES AND NIGEL KENSINGTON III!
Yes – the two Best of British members have seemingly decided to, now that circumstances are more in their favour, actually return to the match and attempt to steal a win. They would, however, have reckoned without Aurora and her chair, which she has no qualms in swinging, taking the two men down and putting a damper on their plans as soon as they had been put into motion. She then just as quickly hoists Carnival up onto the apron, telling her to go finish the job. As she re-enters the squared circle, however…
‘HEY!’
Carnival whirls around and sees Hayley ‘The Raven’, her eyes practically lit up red, charging towards her, arm outstretched! The smallest of the three Masters is, however, just about able to just about duck the already winding Raven’s Bite discus lariat…which ends up hitting the just-recovered Todd Rich, putting him out of action again! As for Carnival, she has wasted no time capitalizing on her quick reflexes, jumping up and bringing the redneck along with her on the way down, as she connects with the jumping cutter she has dubbed the Masterplan! Hayley knocks noggins with Todd as her own hits the canvas, rending her unconscious, and Carnival has but to choose who to cover…and that is an easy decision, as she decides to assert herself as the winner in the battle against the Dirty Bird! She hooks Hayley’s leg and covers, the referee sliding in for the count!
ONE!
Ross Hanson sees what is going on, and attempts to scramble into the ring!
TWO!
Moonlight and Aurora Master yank Hanson’s legs back, tripping him up, just as Freddie Rich makes a dash for it from his own corner…
THREE!
…only to be a fraction of a second too late, and seeing his Family’s chance at gold escape his grasp in the process, as Carnival Dawn clinches it for the opposite set of siblings!
WINNERS and first-ever GLOBAL Tag Team Champions: The Master Sisters
Their goal accomplished, Aurora and Moonlight rush into the ring to congratulate their smaller sister, whom they hoist up onto their shoulders, giving her a vantage point from which to gloat at the audience. Aurora even hands her the freshly refilled soda fountain, which Carnival delights in spraying all over her various fallen foes, the kneeling, dejected Freddie Rich, the referee and the two announce teams, before turning the hose back towards the loudly booing audience and drenching them, as Aurora flips them a bird and trash-talks them accordingly.
BLACK FRIDAY? PERHAPS
The screen opens to a night scene in what looks like a strip mall area somewhere in the world. There are footsteps heard and the screen pans around to show Christian Pierson walking down the sidewalk. He has a black trench coat (leather, of course) and it appears to be a dark suit on under it. His dark hair slicked back as always in the classic “Gordon Gekko” style made popular so many years ago. He claps his gloved hands together and then points toward us.
“This used to be a lot of fun for me,” Pierson began. “I’d be brimming under the collar with excitement all Thanksgiving day for THIS…”
His pause causes the screen to swivel quickly to a few stores open at what must be a late hour. No real lines, but you can tell it is busy enough inside. The picture moves back to our yuppy focus, who still has not even showed one ounce of emotion or expression since walking up.
Christian takes an almost disappointed breath and starts talking as he drops his hands to his sides.
“It is called ‘Black Friday’ and it used to be a true event. A battle royal for the ages. Grown men willing to throw punches over toys for their precious children. People willing to sell out their mothers to get what they wanted.”
Another pause as he slightly shakes his head in disappointment.
“Of course,” he continued, “It really isn’t black Friday anymore. I’d call it more of a grayscale Friday. You know what I mean when you want to call it black, but there just isn’t enough color to really paint it in?”
The cool character stops and points toward a store with darkened windows and broken class behind the “condemned” sign nailed over it.
“I had my first real fight in that store,” Pierson mused. “Some little red-headed bitch with a stutter demanded the last whatever it was….pokeballs, dragonball pee….I don’t even remember now. I just know she sent her Daddy in after it.”
His face is frozen, as if reliving the memory in his head.
“She…..she had…..,” his voice almost breathless as he goes into another slight pause before moving forward with is thought. “…such belief in that stupendous oaf of a man.”
He cocks his head just slightly to his left and a slight curl come to his lips.
“I told her as much when I gave her my Christmas gift to her….his right eyeball.”
He closes his eyes and takes a breath, inhaling the memory he is reliving.
“Now the crowds are less and people buy on-line,” Pierson lamented. “You can’t enjoy this holiday the same way anymore. But I do try.”
“Christian!” a new voice bellows.
The screen widens out and we see Manny standing in almost a matching ensemble.
“You know there has to be some fat piece of shit who wants a computer part or something in there,” Manny smiled as he spoke. “Let’s go already!”
Pierson nods.
“They say you ought to kill people with kindness,” His lips curl again as he starts to slowly take steps toward the store. “I say kindness is overrated.”
He walks past the camera with Manny right behind him and as the camera swivels to follow them, it is only Pierson opening the door and walking in.
The screen goes black.
Then we hear a lady let loose a blood curdling scream.
Then silence.
GONE...BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
Suddenly the arena goes dark, and a countdown starts playing on the video tron, counting down from ten in red. Once the countdown reaches zero, the first two notes of the Maltese National Anthem play and various snapshots of beautiful places in Malta Are shown, starting with Valletta, Gozo, Sliema and finally, Golden Bay. The video stops for a couple of seconds and zooms to a shot of one of the most mesmerising nights in wrestling history in Malta, when a PPV was held at Golden Bay.
Following the shot of the PPV held in Golden Bay, the arena goes dark again and a huge Maltese Cross comes up following with a shot of a man from behind. The camera zooms slowly as he turns facing it and suddenly the arena explodes as they immediately recognize him. As the camera continues to zoom in, he looks at the camera and says:
“The Son of Malta is coming to GLOBAL, and I will not be coming alone! Together we will continue what we started. And I promise you that in Global you will see me wrestling, you will see me fighting and you will see me dominate like never before.”
SoM continues: “You might remember me from The Fighting Zone, you might remember me from nbW or you might remember me from SCW but you are damn sure that for the last 20 years whenever I stepped my foot inside the ring or the cage I dominated, I shred blood and tears and whether you booed me or cheered me I always gave a hundred percent.
“The ring and cage cost me everything. My mentor was killed during a fight, my son was killed after a show, but I am still here because of those three. Those three crazy sons of bitches that you know and love or hate, but they were always there for me and will continue to be there for me. And together we will dominate Global again! And before I leave, I want to leave you with a memory that some of you might have forgotten.”
The video goes back to 15 years ago during a huge battle in Palermo between Keegan and William Arthur Reagan exactly at the moment when Keegan hits the devastating and fatal blow on WAR.
Rest in peace, William.
REMEMBER ME?
An intimidating drum beat sounds out as Gemini walks out to the wrestling ring. Gemini is dark complected/tan and wears black and purple wrestling trunks with the left side black and the right side purple. His boots also match the color of the foot they are on. His mask is also split down the middle with purple on the right and black on the left. There is no real reaction to him as he reaches the ring, step through and asks for a microphone.
“Has he ever done this before?” asks Quinn.
“Hell if I know,” replies Deltzer. “But he wants to sound off I guess.”
Gemini raises the microphone to his mouth, but says nothing. There is no reaction, but nothing to react to, if one were honest. Finally, he speaks.
“For years I have toiled,” he states matter-of-factly. “Ages spent in the shadows behind people who claim to be better than I am. I was kept at the bottom of the ladder for years until I gained a real opportunity not so long ago.”
“What is he talking about,” chides Allie Reece with her voice overshadowing the scene before us. “The guy hasn’t been anywhere since SCW shut down a couple of years ago.”
“He did say ‘not so long ago’, Allie,” mentions Deltzer.
Gemini’s pause is over and he continues with a confident look on his face.
“Those of you who witnessed when I managed to defeat the untamable in SCW must remember,” He says in a boasting fashion. “You all see a man like Alex Reyn and think he is unstoppable and beast-like, but I know one thing for certain….”
Yet another pregnant pause.
“He is mortal.” A grin almost forms on Gemini’s face behind that microphone. “I know because I had my hand raised twice!”
Fans give him a little clap for success against such a foe.
“Tonight,” Gemini continues. “I face another such mountain of a man in the ring: Son of Malta. A man so bland he comes out to his country’s anthem and only has their flag as his claim.”
Gemini chuckles a bit to himself. He must really have thought that a solid insult.
“Malta, tonight you step in here a proud son of your native land,” says the masked man, “but when the match ends and you have felt the wrath of Gemini’s Thunder, everyone will see that my time has arrived after long last! Now get here and let’s get this over with!”
He throws the microphone down as the announcers begin sort of chuckling about Gemini’s confidence, even with his victories over Alex Reyn more than two years ago.
Gemini stands ready as “Downtown” Jason brown picks up the microphone and introduces Malta’s favorite son for his entrance. The Maltese National Anthem sounds off and the Son of Malta makes his way to the ring. He steps through the ropes and stares toward his opponent with utter concentration.
The referee looks to both men, then calls for the bell and the match gets underway.
DING! DING!! DING!!!
The two men start to slowly circle each other, searching for that critical opening with which to seize an advantage early. No doubt they both understand the grappling abilities of the other. Finally they surge toward one another and connect with a collar-and-elbow tie up in the center of the ring.
Gemini holds his own in this tie-up, but ultimately Malta manages to get the advantage and shoves Gemini into the corner. He rushes in behind the masked man to try and add some offense, but Gemini side steps at the last second and Son of Malta smashes into the corner turnbuckles.
This only enrages Son of Malta as he turns around and Gemini stands there slowly shaking his head. Malta rushes into another tie-up in center ring and again these two men seem shockingly even. Gemini manages to stop a Malta attempt to shift the hold and reverses it into back arm lock.
Son of Malta swings his arm wildly for a back elbow strike, but Gemini ducks under and then connects with a knee to the stomach of his fearsome opponent. He grabs him and throws him into the ropes for an Irish whip quickly going for his double axe-handle finisher, but Malta rebounds with a diving tackle that lands under the swinging arms of Gemini and connects with his right hip. Both men hit the canvas with a thud.
Gemini is trying to get to his feet, but Malta is far faster and is already up and he grabs him with a side headlock. This is not just any side headlock, but the “Satan of Side Headlocks,” which is a signature Malta move to wear an opponent down. Gemini is trying to push out of it, but Malta has it locked solid. After several seconds, Gemini manages to use his strength and lift Malta up and over with a straight lift and hit a pseudo-suplex to escape the hold, which got a nice reaction from those in attendance.
Gemini doesn’t follow up quickly as he is still getting his bearings after being in the headlock for a short bit. By the time he makes it over to Malta’s favorite son, there is no easy prey. Malta blocks the swinging right hand attempt and follows up with a straight jab to the throat that staggers Gemini back several steps.
Malta showcases his strength by wrapping his arms around Gemini and lifting him straight up with a German Suplex. Gemini lands awkwardly and rolls under the bottom rope and outside the ring. As Malta stands defiantly in the ring waiting for his opponent to reenter the squared circle, Gemini shakes off the effects of the suplex and waves off the negative comments from some ringside fans.
“Don’t brag about what you can do if you aren’t sure you can pull it off,” Reece notes on commentary.
Gemini smacks his hands on the edge of the ring apron and slides back into the ring. He gets to his feet and dodges another advance by Son of Malta. Before Malta can turn around, Gemini grabs him around the neck and head, attempting to lock in the kata-hajime submission hold. Malta manages to block it with his right hand, but the two are locked in a seeming stalemate. Malta begins to push the hold away and Gemini suddenly kicks up from behind and allows his toes to land a low blow to double over his opponent.
Gemini goes on the offensive, shoving Malta into the corner and starting a barrage of elbows and knee strikes that would make any MMA fighter proud. Malta is defending himself against as many as he can, but Gemini is landing as Malta tumbles into the opposite corner. Gemini steps in and grabs Malta to go for a suplex of his own, but Malta blocks it and lifts Gemini with a vertical suplex and holds him in the air as he slowly rotates in the center of the ring and drops him down.
Malta picks Gemini up and then lifts him for a Northern Lights suplex that he bridges over for a pin attempt…
ONE!
TWO!!
TH…..KICKOUT!!!
Gemini escapes, but only because it seems Malta is out to make an example of his first GLOBAL opponent. The Maltese Machine pulls Gemini back to his feet and grabs him from behind in a cobra clutch, only to lift the masked man into the air and drop him with a cobra clutch slam. The crowd gave a reaction to the impact.
Gemini is relentless as he begins to stomp on his fallen opponent. Gemini is trying to get to his feet, but gets dropped back tot he canvas with ever massive shot from those boots. Finally, Gemini leaps to his feet and toward Malta to try a surprise attack to reverse his fortunes.
It was a failure.
Malta catches Gemini and lifts him with a snap German suplex. He rolls through and forces Gemini flat to the canvas before clamping on his double undercut cross face submission hold, which he calls “The Maltese Cross.”
The referee is looking at Gemini and it takes about four seconds of being locked in that hold before we can audibly hear Gemini saying he gives up, tapping his free hand as fast as he can. The referee calls for the bell as Malta lets go of the hold with a look of triumph on his face.
“Your winner by submission,” Brown yells out, “SON OF MALTA!”
Malta stands with his arms raised as the Maltese National Anthem again is heard. Gemini is left holding his neck in the corner as the victor exits without even looking at him a second time.
ADVERTISEMENT
Gentle piano music plays, as a montage of clips appear.
Firstly, a man swirls around in the night time, on the wet sand of a beach. He is wearing a full suit.
A group of crows are startled and fly away from the branches of a bare tree.
Cars speed to their destination in a sped-up recording of night time traffic.
A woman in a long shirt and long socks sits by a window sipping a coffee from a wide brimmed cup as rain trickles down the pane.
An elderly man leans over his elderly wifes shoulder and they look into one another’s eyes lovingly, smiling.
A crinkle lets itself be heard above the background music.
A knight gallops atop his noble steed across a damp, uneven field.
The stars swirl at speed around the black night sky.
An orange powder drifts into view beneath the stars.
I Am Doritos.
A bear launches itself after a salmon in an autumn lake. Tearing its head off with his huge paws.
You Are Doritos.
A cat falls from a fence into a pond, hilariously flailing around. Drowning.
We Are All Doritos.
A man skiing hits a tree at speed, his skis and poles flying through the air. Every bone in his body is broken.
Together.
A car crash. It’s a bad one. People may have died. There is blood everywhere. A woman is screaming in pain.
Forever.
On the screen, complete black. Then one word.
Consume.
And beneath it, the Doritos logo.
THE STAR
The plush red carpet has GLOBAL written on yellow, but besides that special addition, this soulless white office full of light with an ovular table to house the GLOBAL Board of Directors could be anywhere, Los Angeles or Rome, and we’re taken into the middle of their meeting.
At the head of the table is the Italian American President, Giovanni Ferrari, who looks every bit the actors he used to represent. With a crisp grey suit that costs more than what some of these wrestlers earn in a month and slick-yet-typically-thick black hair, dark stubble and an effortless tan that would melt any swooning mother-in-law’s heart, he stands out in many a room he walks into, but especially this one where your natural hair color is at a premium. Surrounded by men, besides his ally Jarrod Cruz to his immediate left, another youthful and fairly handsome man in an all-black number, everyone is old, wrinkled and presumably out of touch. The sigh Giovanni lets out before kicking proceedings off is indicative of his mentality right now.
The bastards have set me up to fail. I’m gonna prove every last one of them wrong, though fuck knows how when this is the shit I’ve got to work with at board level.
Ferrari clicks his fingers and we’re off to the races: “Okay. Gentlemen, most of you are used to casting actors, extras and directors rather than wrestlers. That is why we’ve invited Ray Young, arguably the greatest to ever do it, to lend his expertise. Ray, weigh in at any time.”
Ray, grey unsurprisingly, but always a snappy dresser, in a gorgeous navy blue pinstripe number, smiles and poo-poos the round of applause he gets from the other members of the room.
“Let’s get down to it,” Ferrari says, picking up the first photograph and holding it aloft for the directors to see.
“Sean Darring.”
Straightaway, the man to Ferrari’s immediate right, wades right in: “Too old.”
That individual, Stanley Jones, was a hell of a Hollywood agent back in the day. Long in the tooth and on the verge of retirement, his eyes don’t betray his lack of enthusiasm and he’s well aware that this is a way of ousting him at GLOBAL Studios. This is not a fresh challenge for him. The fact that he calls Sean Darring ‘old’ is an irony not lost on anyone at the table, though it’s early days and nobody wants to rock the boat – yet.
What am I doing here? What are any of us, besides Ray, doing here? What the fuck is GLOBAL doing in the wrestling business? We’re a film studio, a news station and we make movies, TV – not this shit. What has the world come to?
At the other end of the table, Giovanni’s self-inflicted right-hand man, Oliver Smith, who looks just as fed up as Jones, and is three years younger, yet high-level management here: “I mean, he looks like a professional and we’ve got him in the main event, haven’t we? He doesn’t scream Hollywood Leading Man to me, though.”
Giovanni, who appeared alongside Sean Darring at a press conference merely days ago, knows LSD still has an awful lot to offer and is a hell of a capture for the company, because unlike any of his fellow executives, he knows a thing or two about wrestling. So, what does he do? He tucks his chin in, and seeks the advice of the one man that everyone at the table is forced to listen to when it comes to this profession.
“Ray?”
Young, unlike anyone else here, has the fitness and enthusiasm of someone half his age, even if he’s starting to show signs of slowing down, at least on his forehead and cheeks: “He’s incredible, as much as I hate saying that, and I expect him to be in the business end of the GLOBAL Title tournament when we announce. He’ll be there or thereabouts, no doubt about it.”
Ferrari gets what he needs from Young and places Darring’s photo down to reveal the next picture on the pile.
“August Lazar.”
Next to Ray Young, the oldest yet funniest man in the room – one Adam ‘Old’ Hatt. At the age of 90, he has more stories than Matthew, Luke, John and Mark. His aren’t about Moses or Jesus – Marilyn Monroe and JFK, more like it. He has no filter, he could be dead at any point, yet he still takes care of himself, reflected by the snap white dress which matches his hair: “He’s huge – perhaps too big.”
Back to Giovanni’s direct opposite, Oliver Smith, at the far end opposite to me, presumably so Ferrari can throw pens at him as the night progresses: “Definitely passes that airport test, doesn’t he? But, yeah, not many leading men in Hollywood are over six-five and he’s almost seven-five! We don’t want someone THAT tall, I don’t think.”
“Son of Malta.”
Stanley Jones scrunches his face up and pouts, indicating he’s unconvinced: “He’s from Malta? Does he speak English?”
Hatt waves his hands in the air: “Where is Malta? Is that in Europe or Asia?”
While Young is amused, he puts his hand on Hatt’s and reasons with him: “He can fight and wrestle. He can give anyone trouble on any given night. I don’t know how he’ll be after two years off, but we’ll get an idea tonight.”
Ferrari winks at Young, who smiles and mouths ‘no problem’ back at the President, fully aware of the task in front of him.
“EZ Rah.”
Jarrod Cruz, Ferrari’s closest confidant, decides to break the trend: “From what you’ve told me, he reminds me of Logan or Jake Paul, and that means he’s got a shout. Look at how much those guys make. Whether that means he’s the star, or the supporting actor, time will tell.”
Back to Oliver Smith, Executive Vice President of GLOBAL, no less: “Who is Jake Logan?”
Cruz throws his arms up in disbelief: “Give me strength!”
Smith waves his fist at Cruz for his insolence: “I’ll give you more than that!”
Ferrari claps his hands to quieten them down: “GUYS!”
Once he has sufficient silence, he picks up the next photo.
Aleczander The Great.
Jones sounds somewhat surprised to see a familiar face: “Seen him before. He’s been on TV, hasn’t he?”
Again, Oliver Smith has something to say: “He has, but a LITTLE full of himself.”
Young has the last word: “I don’t mind that, though. This is entertainment. Pro Wrestling! We need that.”
“VIP.”
Hatt asks: “How tall is he?”
Young doesn’t miss a beat: “Six-five.”
Hatt turns to Young, and throughout the day, they’ve already established a strange yet remarkable relationship that is going to endure for however long Hatt has left, due to their love of life, excess and ability to tell stories: “How much does that guy weight?”
“Two fifty, two sixty,” Young tells him roughly, knowing fine well what Price weighs, but eager not to reveal too much about his personal fondness for someone he has been a mentor to.
Hatt: “He’s got a star quality about him, for sure. He looks like someone who would kill his brother for a bottle of Grapefruit Fresca”
Young wants to laugh, because it amuses him AND he knows it to be true, but he composes himself, using his fingers to reel off Price’s attributes: “Listen, he’s got all the tools, background and credentials to be a major player here.”
THE ONE
A Caucasian man with shoulder-length black hair, wearing a red suit jacket over a black undershirt, walked into the GLOBAL board of directors meeting room with a black cane that has a wooden handle despite not looking a day over forty. He looked around the room with a sly grin. The board of directors was a group of mostly sixty-year-old men, wearing black or grey business suits, seated around a rectangular frosted glass table. Some of the board of directors were balding or completely bald, others had greying or completely white hair.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says smoothly, “allow me to introduce myself. I am Benedict Beel Zebub, and I am honored to be standing before you today.”
The board of directors murmu nervously.
The nineteen-time world champion, ‘Evergreen’ Ray Young, no spring chicken by any means, nods and extended his head, “Yeah, I know you. What are you doing here? This is a private meeting, and if you were honored to be standing before us, you wouldn’t have interrupted us. So, why don’t you—”
Young is cut off by Zebub as he raises his right hand.
Benedict continues, “This is a historic day.”
The board of directors continued to murmur nervously to themselves.
“A historic day for all of us,” he said. Benedict continued, “I know you are looking for the final entrant in the tournament and I have made a call. This guy is The One.”
The entire board of directors, including Ray Young, gaped at Zebub. The room was silent. Even Ray Young was speechless. Benedict smiled at the shocked faces in front of him, folding his hands on the handle of his cane. Benedict turned around and walked out of the GLOBAL board of directors meeting room. The board members said nothing. They just sat there, in disbelief.
THE BIG DREAMS OF BIG AUG
Soundbytes from various sports outlets start to play. Spotlighting a TOWERING man on and off the basketball court.
“August Lazar! Selected to play in the NBA!”
“Always a bright smile on his face, August Lazar already turning heads! Quickly becoming as popular off the court as he is on the court! A big man with an even bigger appetite!”
“Standing at seven-foot four and only twenty-three years of age! With a YouTube show, Big Aug’s Grub Vlog Traveling the United States and abroad, taking on food challenges! Hot foods, cold foods, huge portions that would stop normal men in their tracks!”
“August Lazar with a bright future! Posting great stats! Wanting to follow in the shoes of other powerful centers! Big things are expected from this big man!”
Clips of Big Aug on his YouTube show, Big Aug’s Grub Vlog, taking on challenges. Conquering a tower of a sandwich by himself. Eating some of the hottest wings that any man could eat. That time he tried Mt. Rainier’s Revenge hot sauce… and barely survived. Eating eight scoops of ice cream in a race against the clock! Consuming various calories a day.
And now, a voiceover in a Romanian accent.
“Big things were gonna happen for me… August Lazar. But you can call me Big Aug. I play basketball. I dunk on lots of small people. I get my name in movies. I get the money to move my family here to America with me. But Big Aug do the stupid thing. I listen to the wrong people. It cost me everything. Coach say “go ahead and do it. It all turn out okay.”
Guys… it not okay. It not okay at all.”
More soundbytes, but unlike the previous sounds brimming with positivity… nothing but contempt or disappointment.
“Breaking news: NBA hopeful August Lazar issued a two-year ban from the sport for blood doping.”
“Now every move this kid makes is going to be under a microscope. When he gets to play again… if any team will even have him after this.”
The earlier voiceover.
“Is true… nobody wanted to take another chance on me in basketball. But where one door closes… you can kick another down to make the monies for your family to move here. A buddy of mine, Angel Trinidad was like ‘AUGIE, YOU BIG AS ****! YOU SHOULD DO THE WRESTLINGS!’ So I find a seemingly nice and reputable place… and I go do the wrestlings.”
Stock footage of the GARGANTUAN man from January 2019, standing in a ring. Johnny Slather’s House of BBQ and Headlocks, with an emphasis in training the big bois of wrestling. The tall, dirty blonde wavy hair of the big man as he towers over the other students in class, running drills in a ring.
“Wrestling not something I knew how to do. Basketball and eating whatever life throws at me. That’s what I do. But from that first hit of ropes… this it for me. Wrestlings is what I wanted to do for rest of my life.”
More clips play of August Lazar in other organizations that he has frequented, winning several titles for himself in the process. On top of that, Big Aug’s Grub Vlog taking off into its own spin-off, Big Aug’s Big Ass Kitchen inviting fellow wrestlers and former basketball players on the show to make whatever the fudge comes to mind.
“I was a heavy. I was bodyguard for other wrestlers. But now… here in Global Wrestling, Big Aug do this all for himself and for people who supported me to see where I am today.”
Now Big Aug standing solo in a ring, already a World Heavyweight Champion in his young career, but not wanting to stop there with just one. Now the giant steps foot into an empty Global ring.
“Now Big Aug ready to conquer new challenges. New foods. New rivalries. I am Boss of the Sauce! Mr. Spice Guy! The Man With the Iron Stomach! I want to entertain! I want to have fun! I want the whole world to know it’s okay to have appetite for life!”
Now finally a present-day shot of Big Aug looking down at the camera.
“My name “Big Aug” August Lazar! And you have two choices… you can chow down… or you can throw down!”
"BIG AUG" AUGUST LAZAR VS. "VERIFIED" CHETT MARX
The crowd is buzzing for the action that has been on display tonight and the bell rings to let the crowd know the next match is about to start.
“Break Da Internet” by Moneybagg Yo.
The music hits and out comes a masked man with a black mask and grey eyeholes to where only his face is visible. A black singlet in pants and black boots with blue check marks running down the sides. He holds out his cell phones and starts posting some nonsense on Youtube… and his response?
“Take this ratio.”
Send.
With a smile on his face, he holds the cell phone out again and then heads to the ring, talking more online trash and ignoring the fans.
“The following contest is set for one fall!” yells ring announcer “Downtown” Jason Brown. “Introducing first, not telling you about his height and weight because he won’t give his info to data miners or spambots… “VERIFIED” CHETT MARX!”
Marx looks to be in good shape and then slides onto the ring apron. He starts a live stream that makes it to the tron.
“Gonna kick some dude’s ass! Three minutes or less! Watch me! Hit like and subscribe!”
He slides into the ring and refuses to give his phone up to the official so he can finish whatever absurd theory he has about the moon landing on some Subreddit. He’s looking pretty confident in his chances as his music cuts.
Yo
I go by the name of Dame Jones
I’m with my crew
And we gon’ show y’all what we be snacking on
Ya dig
“Hot Cheetos and Takis” by Da Rich Kidzz.
Chett Marx keeps on thumbing away on his phone, but when he sees his opponent… he stops and drops the phone instantly.
TOWERING through the entrance, the dirty-blonde monster with hair tied back in a bun, wearing a red and black sleeveless body suit! He looks out to the cheering crowd with a box in hand as a friend of his works a phone.
“That’s right, folks! Big Aug! First time in the Global Wrestlings! This for you, Big Aug Grub Vlog!” he yells. “Here you go!”
He opens the box and starts dispensing various candy, peanuts, jerky and snacks to me fans on the way to the ring as he makes his way down the red carpet to the ring while his entrance is being streamed. Chett Marx is annoyed cause he should be the only one allowed to stream, while Jason Brown makes the announcements for said giant.
“And his opponent, from Clearwater, Florida, by way of Romania… accompanied by manager, Del Waterstone… he stands SEVEN-FOOT FOUR and weighs in at THREE-HUNDRED NINETY-NINE pounds… he is Everyone’s Zest Friend, Boss of the Sauce, Mr. Spice Guy, One Giant Tasty Snack, The Appetite For Life, The Man With The Iron Stomach…”
After running through all the nicknames, the large foodie points up to the sky, then pulls himself up onto the apron. He walks over the ropes with ease and then points up as his name is announced. Del jumps onto the apron to film!
“BIG AUG” AUGUST LAZAR!”
The crowd cheers the big man as he pumps a fist… then Chett Marx runs and clocks him in the back with a forearm!
The bell rings…
And Big Aug turns around slowly. He looks out to the crowd with a smile on his face and a look of “can you believe THIS guy?”
Chett Marx fights back! He jumps all over Big Aug and tries a number of forearm shots to the chest! When those don’t seem to have much of an effect, he spins around trying to figure out what to do. Big Aug seems to be nice enough to let him have a free shot, so he winds up and NAILS him across the chest with an open-handed chop.
The chop does nothing.
Big Aug dusts off his chest and offers him another one with a wave of his hand.
“Ratio!” Marx screams as he throws another chop!
Chett looks pretty satisfied with himself. He shakes his hand, but he’s happy with the shot that he’s thrown. He turns around and seemingly readies another one, but instead it’s The Boss of the Sauce pushing him into a corner before THROWING him into a massive biel throw that has the crowd stunned!
Chett Marx’s back is hurt and he kicks frantically across the mat as the crowd is watching in amazement. Auggie points to each side of the arena, wanting to see if the crowd wants him to throw someone again. He grabs Chett Marx again and then pushes him to the corner before a second big biel throw sends him flying like Big Aug is doing his best Uncle Phil impression!
“AAHHH!” Marx screams as he hits the mat a second time. Auggie shrugs before the former NBA player has a little more fun. He hooks Marx by the body and then holds him up for a suplex…
Holds it…
Holds it…
Holds it…
Then drops him down with a release front suplex! Marx is twitching in pain and rolls out to the floor while Big Aug gets more cheers! Meanwhile, Mr. Verified is limping across the canvas with Lazar is enjoying himself. The official starts to count down Marx.
“One! Two! Three! Four! Five!”
The count continues as Big Aug looks disappointed. Chett is starting to slowly crawl away from ringside, but Mr. Spice Guy has decided No More Mr. Nice Guy because he doesn’t want to take a countout win.
“Six! Seven!”
Big Aug takes an extra second to step over the ropes and go to the floor after Chett.
“Aw, hell!” he yells.
Chett rolls off the other side with Big Aug slowly stalking him across the ringside area. He rolls to the other side and Marx gets in first. When Lazar gets there…
Baseball slide dropkick!
The one kick knocks August back, but he merely stumbles. Chett gets back up and heads to the ring apron now that he finally has the giant down. He stands on the apron and CRACKS August in the mouth with a superkick while standing on the ring apron. August stumbles back a little more…
Superkick II: Electric Boogaloo.
August gets stumbled again! Still on his feet, but Marx sees the strikes are working. He steps back into the ring and then gets ready to fly. The crowd is booing Marx as he runs off the ropes and take flight with a suicide dive…
ONLY TO BOUNCE OFF BIG AUG COMPLETELY AND HIT THE FLOOR!
The crowd cheers as Big Aug shakes off the superkicks and holds his arms out to applause from the crowd while Marx is writhing on the floor, wondering who put up the brick wall he ran into. Big Aug picks up Marx off the mat and then presses him! He holds him and THROWS Marx up and over the ropes back into the ring!
Marx is limping up and tries to use the corner to pull himself up while Big Aug slowly pulls himself up and back into the ring. He stands across from The Verified One and yells out before he charges and then hits a HUGE running back elbow in the corner that crushes Marx! The big impact has Marx hurting, but Big Aug puts him on his shoulders and then drops him with a snake eyes. Aug takes off with another surge off the ropes and KICKS Marx in the chest with a big boot, completing a combo called The Food Chain!
“IT’S CHOW TIME!” Aug yells to the crowd.
They cheer when he picks up Marx one last time and hoists him slowly into a back suplex…
Then shifts into a chokeslam!
THE FOOD COMA!
Big Aug casually places the palms on Marx’s chest.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The bell rings after that and Big Aug’s music plays once again for the crowd! Everyone’s Zest Friend raises his fists in the air with the official trying his best to raise his hand in victory.
Big Aug steps past a hurt Chett Marx and then over the ropes to leave the ring. He high-fives Del, then picks up the snack box and then starts tossing out a few more to the Global fans as he walks back up the red carpet, happy with his first win in Global under his belt!
VIRAL COMEDY
Ezra Johnson, currently going by E Z Rah after deciding he wants to try becoming a professional wrestler, appears on the phone screen. His mess of blonde hair covers one eye as he beams widely into the phone, which is currently acting as his camera.
There is a live chat to the side of the screen as he records, which currently only has 12 active users, none of which are saying anything. His voice is fairly hushed.
“Hey, wassup guys. It’s me, the big E-Z, taking it E-Z here at chuckles comedy club.” he says, his smile beaming across the internet to nobody in particular.
He rotates the camera slightly showing a small group of middle aged people enjoying a night out, laughing amongst themselves. A muffed, louder voice speaks through a microphone.
“So, as many of you may know, for the past couple of years I’ve been training to be the greatest pro-wrestler on the planet. This is in-between all the other cool shit I’ve been getting into like my energy drinks and the dopest range of NFT’s out there on the net yo. Check ‘em out if you haven’t yet. Crypto is the future! Links in the description!” he whispers with excitement, pointing down to the imaginary comments section in his lap.
The Live Chat has jumped up to over 300 people now, and numerous emoji bubbles start floating up from the bottom of the screen. They are mostly angry faces and thumbs down with the odd laughter and throwing up emoji in there. The chat is now starting to become more populated with comments like ‘This clown again?’ and ‘F*** off.’
“I’m here checking out this absolute boomer who actually tries to wrestle at the same promotion as me. Guy named Jerry David.” he scoffs, “Now this absolute fool is actually getting kicked out of the places he plays for picking fights! So I’m here to see if I can prank him enough to get him kicked out again!”
E Z laughs out loud and slaps the table obnoxiously. The room goes quiet and some of the comedy club guests look at him.
“Hey. Hey, buddy” the microphone booms, “you want to keep it down out there?” Jerry David announces, his hand raised out across the dark audience, palm up, exasperated.
“Oh, sorry buddy. I s’pose you’re not used to the sound of laughter coming from your audience.” E Z sniggers to himself. The room remains silent.
Jerry looks agitated but keeps his composure.
“Is that what that was? Here I was thinking a merry-go-round had a squeak.”
The crowd laugh lightly.
“Hey man, that’s not funny.” E Z barks back like an upset teenager.
“Not nearly as funny as that crayola all over your face. I didn’t know the blind orphanage was moonlighting as a group of tattoo artists.”
The crowd laugh.
“Is that the right collective term?” Jerry asks the crowd, looking around, “group of tattoo artists? Group? Herd? It has to be a herd, surely.”
The crowd laugh again, more loudly than before as Jerry smiles with them.
The feed on E Z’s phone is now more animated than ever. Word had gotten out over the failed ‘prank’ and the link of the live stream shared across multiple sites. The Live Chat now boasts over 14,000 people, with laughter emoji bubbles flooding the screen.
“Oh yeah? Man this ink probably cost more than your whole crappy apartment. Look at you standing there in your thrift store outfit in front of 15 people. My li’l pinky is worth more than what you made in a lifetime.”
“Well if being rich means I have to look like you, just call me broke.” Jerry retorts.
E Z looks disgusted at Jerry as the Live Chat starts to scroll so fast it’s hard to make out any of the comments. The people watching counter is now over 50,000 as the Live Streams virality quickly picks up pace.
“Whatever, man. You better watch your back at Global. No fake.” E Z spits.
E Z starts to storm out of the building. As the laughter around him grows he pushes over a table on his way out of the door before noticing his phone and holding it in front of his face again.
“Man, that idiot wasn’t even worth the effort. Straight up loser who’s gunna bomb harder in the ring than he does up on stage. You guys know what’s real though. Thanks for checking out the vid and make sure you check out my Global debut next week. Take it E-Z, guys. Imma head out.” E Z beams into the phone, his faux enthusiasm pluming his chest like a fresh set of feathers.
E Z lets out a huge sigh as he drops the phone by his side and ends the stream. The video displays ‘Offline’ as the chat and viewing figures remain active. The chat is full of people laughing at him and saying they can’t wait to see him get his ass handed to him in the ring.
As E Z leaves the club, Jerry, seemingly unphased, picks up where he left off, discussing the pro’s, and lack of con’s, of pop tarts. Meanwhile, E Z finds himself heading out into the wet L.A. night, with thousands of followers, but completely alone.
KINGDOM COME
A break between matches is made slightly more lively by the arrival of a perfectly suited and booted duo of young gentlemen, to the tune of traditional British march ‘Rule Britannia’. The one on the right is blond, with short, slicked-back hair, broad shoulders, a cocksure smirk and an icy twinkle to his steel-blue eyes, while his partner, leaner and lankier, has his brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and a slightly less intense expression. Both are already armed with microphones, which the blond one puts to good use after casting the Hollywood crowd no more than a cursory glance from the entry platform.
‘Allow us to introduce ourselves…’
‘…we are men of wealth and taste.’ This ad-lib by his partner appears to tickle the blond, who pats him on the shoulder while visibly cackling off the mic. Then, a moment later and his composure regained, he continues:
‘My name is Rupert Royston-Fellowes. This gentleman here…’ He once again pats his partner on the shoulder, this time more pointedly. ‘…is Mr. Nigel Kensington, the Third. Together, we are The Best of British…for we represent the very best of British wrestling.’
‘That’s right.’ The darker-haired half of the team picks up from where his partner has left off. ‘PROPER grappling, Not this sports-entertainment nonsense you lot cultivate over here. In other words, this…’ The youngster engages his partner in the briefest of lock-ups, before engaging in a pantomime of spinning around in circles on one leg, gesturing wildly. ‘…not this.’
At this point, the boos – which had already begun to trickle down – begin to rain on the duo in droves, but neither man seems too worried; on the contrary, the blond one at least appears to be relishing the reaction as he speaks up once again:
‘Precisely. Well put, Nigel. I could not have said it any better.’
Then, over even louder jeers, he adds:
‘Nor are we alone in this endeavour. One like-minded individual, at least, has seen the value of our endeavour, and agreed to lend a hand. Not just ANY individual, either, but one of the most skilled and well-regarded grapplers to ever emerge from the British Isles. Which is why I now demand a moment of RESPECTFUL SILENCE….’ The youth pauses for a moment, as if daring the crowd, and they rise to the bait spectacularly. ‘…for the arrival of our esteemed colleague and partner…Mr. David O’Brien!’
The two men turn towards the ramp, clapping enthusiastically – an action in which they are joined by absolutely no one else. Davey-Boy O’Brien emerges from behind the curtains to jeers mostly with a small cheering section out there somewhere. He pays none of this any attention, instead he greets his fellow stablemates with handshakes before accepting the microphone from them.
“It’s been two years since many of ye last saw me on a nationally syndicated TV program. Hell, this one is global. It’s even in the name! During that two years, I’ve gained more experience an’ I’ve become one of the top prospects in the sport of professional wrestling. While I have gained experience and evolved in those two years, I cannae help but notice a certain someone has not evolved at all. Ye see, I was a-waltzin’ backstage an’ I saw a man from my past. I’m gonna be up front. He’s part of the reason I am what and who I am today…”
Nigel and Rupert shrug and nod in agreement with this notion as Davey-Boy continues.
“That person is, of course, Keegan. I donnae how he feels now, but he wasnae too happy with me last time we shared a promotion together, not that I care. Ye see, I did what I had to do back in SCW, an’ I have every intent on doin’ it again here in GLOBAL. That’s why I brought some backup in the Best of British. Between these two dandy men an’ meself, we will dominate this company. We will build an empire! Ladies and gents, lads and lasses, feast your eyes on the new super power of professional wrestling, we are The United Kingdom!”
The crowd begins raining down boos upon the trio, who just seem to revel in all of it. As the trio begins to walk toward the entrance tunnel once more, the show proceeds to a commercial break…
A SQUARE GO, AYE?
Kasabian’s Club Foot kicks in after the sound of lightning. Just in case they aren’t sure, the letters flash up on the giant screen at The Globe to confirm their suspicions: K-E-E-G-A-N.
An eruption of noise, and there he is, right on cue: One, take control of me, you’re messing with the enemy.”
The English Export, who has fought some of the best in a 21-year spell Stateside, shakes that large right arm of his and punches the air, appreciative of the spine-tingling response reserved for his rival. As fans get to their feet, he waves his hand vigorously, telling them not to bother, but he, like any entertainer in the world, is delighted he hasn’t been forgotten in his two-year absence. Not the first time you’ve heard that tonight, is it?
Rising above the noise, he needs every bit of that booming British accent: “Thanks, lads and lasses. It’s lovely to be back in sunny LA. Hollywood’s not really my scene, but the squared circle is and you’re a lairy bunch, aren’t you? I love it,” he applauds the audience, and they reply in kind.
He continues once it dies down: “For those of you that don’t know, I’ve run a little company called UNITED for wrestling fans in the north of England ever since SCW closed. Our mantra is to put a hell of a show on for folks like you, and also provide pro wrestlers with a platform in an industry where there are fewer and fewer places to work, which is why I’m so grateful to GLOBAL for opening its doors AND for taking us on as a developmental territory for aspiring wrestlers to perfect their craft before coming here.”
Keegan holds a thankful hand high above his head and directs the audience’s attention to the entrance behind him: “It’s my pleasure to announce the arrival of one example here and now – former UNITED Middleweight and Heavyweight Champion, ‘Flyin’ Ryan Ansell!”
Lukewarm applause greets the amazing aerial artist, who looks good to go here, with a white t-shirt over his red trunks and boots. Keegan shakes hands with Ansell before heading up the ramp and leaving to great applause. Ansell composes himself: “I know you don’t me, GLOBAL Nation, but I hope you will. It has always been my dream to wrestle in America, and as Keegan says, it’s still by far the best place to come and showcase what you can do. I cannot wait to get started…”
Before Ryan can say anything else, “Ill Ray (The King)” by Kasabian kicks up across the arena. Because of their unfamiliarity with the music, the crowd stands and looks toward the entrance as Davey-Boy O’Brien emerges from the entrance tunnel. There’s a section of the crowd who cheers for O’Brien, but the majority of the crowd boos him due to his association with Best of British collectively as The United Kingdom. As per the norm for him, Davey is already dressed out in his ring gear, sporting a Fresca-branded wrestling jacket. He has an amused smirk on his beard face that almost looks condescending toward the other man standing in the ring. Davey-Boy came prepared with his own microphone which he lifts to his mouth as he walks toward the ring: “It’s good to see that Keegan has finally moved past doting over me. I guess he has a new toy to play with since I strayed from his chosen path.” Davey jogs up the ring steps and enters the ring before walking toward Ansell. “Ye say ye cannae wait to get started? Well, I say no time like the present, eh, mate? I’ve already got me trunks on, an’ yer already in the ring so how ‘bout ye an’ me ‘ave a square go right now?”
Ansell contemplates it for a moment. With no mentor to bounce ideas off, he smiles and says: “Good job I came prepared.”
ADVERTISEMENT
“DO YOU LIKE TO READ?” a man screams into the camera, his entire face in shot and not a morsel of background showing. “DO YOU? DO YOU LIKE IT?” he screams some more.
“LOCAL LIBRARIES ARE CLOSING!” he booms, his face reddening with rage. “ANOTHER LOCAL SERVICE DOWN THE PAN. AND WHY? BECAUSE NOBODY IS HERE. LOOK!”
He steps away from the camera and is standing in the middle of a silent, dimly lit, poorly maintained local library. He is the only one there, besides an elderly, slightly terrified librarian sitting open mouthed and holding her glasses away from her face. This, despite them being on a chain around her neck therefore negating the necessity for her to hold the glasses in the first place. She is aghast, is the point.
“YOU SAY YOU LIKE TO READ. OH, READING IS GREAT. I READ TO MY CHILDREN EVERY BED TIME. YEAH? WELL WE LIBRARIANS DON’T BELIEVE YOU. AND IF I SEE YOU ON TWITTER TELLING EVERYONE HOW IMPORTANT READING IS FOR CHILDREN, AND I CHECK YOUR LIBRARY RECORD, AND YOU HAVEN’T BEEN HERE FOR OVER TWO YEARS, I’M COMING FOR YOU SANDRA FROM BUTTFUCK, OHIO. I’M COMING FOR YOU, AND YOUR STUPID ILLITERATE CHILDREN. AND I’LL BURY YOU ALL ALIVE. AND I WILL WRITE A HAIKU WHILE I WAIT FOR THE LAST OF THE OXYGEN TO RUN OUT. YOU LYING LITTLE TRASH BAG!”
The librarian shushes the screaming man.
“SHUSH? ME? ME SHUSH? SHUSH YOURSELF!” he turns to her exclaiming, spit flinging from his mouth, before turning back to the camera.
“GET YOURSELF DOWN TO THE LOCAL LIBRARY, OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL NOT BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR MY ACTIONS. DO YOU HEAR ME?”
The library door clicks open and a young mother enters with her son, who can’t be a day over five years old.
“AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?” the angry librarian screams as he turns to the young family, unholstering a pistol, “AND DON’T YOU DARE SAY HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSIPHERS FUC–”
There is a long, high-pitched beep, and the screen fills with static.
FLYIN' RYAN ANSELL Vs DAVEY-BOY O'BRIEN
A referee enters the ring, telling the audience all they need to know as he says something to Davey-Boy then Ryan Ansell. More than likely telling them their match was approved as both men back into their respective corners.
After the referee calls for the bell, both men walk toward the center of the ring. Ryan Ansell offers a handshake to Davey-Boy who reaches out and takes the handshake. After they shake, Davey-Boy doesn’t release the shake, instead he yanks Ryan toward him and catches him with a headbutt!
As the crowds booing, Ryan tries to regain his composure, but Davey gets on the attack quickly. He hits Ryan with three alternating European Uppercuts before putting him down with a sickening Discus Forearm shot! Davey wasn’t kidding about having A Square Go with Ansell it would seem!
Davey grabs his prone opponent around the waist and proceeds to deadlift him from the canvas, looking for his patented Deadlift German Suplex! Flyin’ Ryan shows some quick thinking though as he’s close enough to the ropes, he kicks off of them and flips over Davey-Boy allowing him to land on his own two feet!
Ryan uses his momentum to shove Davey-Boy chest first into the near turnbuckle then catches Davey in the upper-back with a Front Dropkick!
Seeing a window of opportunity, Flyin’ Ryan leaps over the ropes to the apron then climbs the turnbuckle and sets himself up in front of a dazed O’Brien, he grabs him in a front face lock then goes to spin himself off of the turnbuckle!
TORNADO DDT! Wait…
Davey-Boy, in an amazing display of power, stops the rotation, gets his own arm hooked over Ryan’s head then deadlifts Ansell into the air into a Stalling Suplex position!
During the Stalling time, Davey even does some squats, displaying the raw power he possesses before finally dropping backwards, bring Ansell to the mat with a hard impact.
Instead of falling up though, Davey opts to kip up to his feet and throw his arms into the air. He does this long enough for Ryan to start getting back to his feet, but Davey grabs him in a front face lock and we hear him yell out, clearly directed at Ryan Ansell: “YE WANNA SEE A TORNADO DDT, MATE?! I’ll show ye a Tornado DDT!”
Davey jumps up onto the ropes and hits a rope-assisted Tornado DDT, planting Flyin’ Ryan head first into the canvas. The crowd groans at the impact and begins to boo as Davey finally goes for a cover.
ONE…
TWO…
THRE…
Wait, Davey lifts Ryan’s head up from the mat. This sends the crowd into a booing frenzy as O’Brien just laughs at the crowd’s reaction. Davey picks up Ryan’s now lifeless body and raises him into a fireman’s carry. In another impressive display of leg strength, he walks up the turnbuckle, sits on the top turnbuckle before leaping off and dropping Ansell across his knee with an Avalanche Gutbuster!
Ansell rolls across the mat clutching his gut in obvious pain!
Davey-Boy takes the time to mouth off at some of the crowd while Flyin’ Ryan is showing there is literally no quit in him as he begins pushing himself back to his feet. Unfortunately, his stomach is really in pain, and he’s very slow-moving.
Davey happens to turn just enough to see his opponent getting to his feet so he immediately gets back on the attack by shoving Ryan Ansell into the near turnbuckle then pulling him back out before rolling him down to the ground and up into a devastating German Suplex!
ROLLING STONE SUPLEX BRIDGE HOLD!
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The crowd boos as Davey-Boy aggressively rolls Flyin’ Ryan to the side. As the referee raises his hand, his two partners-in-crime, Nigel Kensington and Rupert Royston-Fellowes make their way down to the ring. O’Brien pulls his arm away from the referee once he realizes he can get it raised by his fellow stablemates instead.
After that, they turn their attention back to Flyin’ Ryan Ansell who is barely even moving at this point. Davey shoves the kid’s head with a thrusting boot while talking trash to him. Meanwhile, Best of British just stands back, watches, and laughs as it goes down.
Fortunately for Flyin’ Ryan, this isn’t allowed to go on for very long as the crowd suddenly gets out of their seats for Ryan’s fellow UNITED wrestlers, Royal Air Force!
Ade Flowers and Ant Rushton make a beeline for the ring. When The United Kingdom notices, they decide it’s time to hit the road as they bail out of the ring and circle back around toward the entrance ramp while looking back at the men in the ring.
Ade Flowers asks for a microphone while Ant Rushton checks on Ansell, with both RAF members’ eyes never leaving their compatriots and newfound rivals: “Aw, so you don’t like it now the odds are even? Funny, that. Me and Ant, we look after our own and Ryan here is like a little brother to us. Let’s see if you’ve got the same bond in the so-called United Kingdom.
“How about next week we do it on a level playing field? The six of us do this in a tag team match?”
Davey-Boy sneers a bit as he looks side-to-side at his fellow stablemates, Nigel and Rupert, who simply nod. O’Brien points toward the ring and shouts: “YOU’RE ON, MATE!” The three of them continue to back there way up the ramp as we cut back to the ring where RAF is helping Ryan Ansell back to his feet as the show cuts to a commercial break…
GETTING YOUR FLOWERS
As the Global fans packing The Globe @Stage 49 wait to see what comes next on today’s premiere of DOMINATION…
Welp.
Turns out they don’t have to wait long.
A pitch-black arena is what’s next.
A golden light starts to shine over the entrance.
Under the golden light, a young, unnamed woman in a gold-sequined evening gown comes out with a bouquet of yellow flowers. Followed right after by a young, unnamed man dressed in a dark brown business suit with a golden tie, holding some sort of giant plaque in hand. Both stand in front of a podium (now conveniently) placed on stage. “Downtown” Jason Brown’s voice starts to instruct the audience on what to do next.
“Ladies and gentlemen… you are now asked to rise to your feet, to put your hands together and clap repeatedly until you are asked to stop making noise… please welcome…”
Jason is reading from a card that he clearly doesn’t want to read… but shrugs cause he’s being compensated enough to put up with a wee bit of nonsense.
“He stands at a really tall six-foot four! He weighs in at two-hundred and sixty four pounds of chiseled, yet immaculate granite… he is Global’s newest, greatest and most worthwhile acquisition… and you can refer to him as GLOBAL Wrestling’s First Ballot, Future and Greatest Hall of Famer…?” his voice trails off like the last statement is a question. “This is…”
He clears his throat.
”ALECZANDER! THE! GREAT!”
“Hall of Fame” by The Script feat. will.i.am.
The crowd doesn’t know how yet to react to what they are seeing, but when they see the big man coming out wearing a golden business suit and tie… without sleeves… they start jeering for the pomp and circumstance they didn’t pay to see. The man is of mixed black and white heritage. With upper arms and a chiseled chin so at least that portion of his intro appears to be true. He adjusts his tie and waves to the jeering crowd. His blue eyes look out to the crowd, filled with pretentious air (as if the intro wasn’t obvious in that fact alone.)
He takes his place near the podium and looks like he’s about to cry on command, but when the tears don’t come, he quashes that thought and points out to the crowd.
“All right, shut that shite off, yeah? I’m gonna use words I’ve prepared for all of you!”
The music is quiet.
“Ladies, gentlemen… and yes, even you, disrespectful wankers booing…” he says with a trace of Manchester accent, eroded slightly by his years of living in the US. “Tonight is officially the greatest night of Global Wrestling! Because not only do you already have a great, global, international star like me who can penetrate multiple demographics at one time! A man who grew up in the UK, became a star over there, then came to the US years later, became a citizen and became an even bigger star here! You have someone who can connect with audiences the world over! You have someone with a wealth of live television AND wrestling experience! Global Wrestling is already the greatest promotion in the world because it has ME to carry it across THESE shoulders. Get a look at this wingspan, yeah?”
He turns around and starts to flex his arms.
“I had the sleeves removed so I can let this magnificent musculature breathe!”
Aleczander turns back to the podium.
“Let me tell you a little about myself, Global!”
The crowd is booing louder, not wanting to hear the pompous man talk, but he ignores them anyway.
“My name is Aleczander The Great! You may know me from a little group called Team HOSS! Won Tag Titles the world over! ACW! nbW! DEFIANCE! West Essex Wrestling! Good old TW! Toronto Wrestling! ABC! 123! If you can string together any three letters, I’ve CARRIED people to tag team gold… but going forward, I ain’t about all that, mates. Enough of that bollocks! Tonight and from every night on for the rest of my career… I’m all about ME and what I can do for YOU, Global!”
More booing.
“What you see before you is a man that is not only going to hitch Global onto his back, he will take it to new heights that no promotion has ever risen to! I have FIFTEEN years experience as a top-level wrestler! I have even more than that as a successful former reality star in the UK! You can go online right now with your little phones… but wait until after the induction ceremony please… to look at all my great work! The Panty Raid Triathalon! Ready, Set, Snog! The Amazing Chase For Tail! The Surreal Life… until that sod, Rodman… or should I say, Dennis SODman, took me spot… and the critically reviled “Alecz Snogs Manhattan” where I married me way into this country! But as I enter my thirty-ninth year on this planet, I need to make goals for the end of my career at everyone else’s expense, so with that in mind…”
He snatches the microphone off the podium.
“Stand up! It is now time to induct me into the GLOBAL Hall of Fame and make this all nice and official-like! The Mancunian Muscle! The Golden Great! The Manc Miracle! Time to cement my place as Global Wrestling’s first-ever Hall of Famer! Now gimme that! I’m gonna finally get me flowers!”
He snatches the plaque and the flowers out of the hands out of the presenters. The lights dim, save for a golden spotlight shining on Alecz and Alecz alone.
“Hit me music!”
“Hall of Fame” by The Script feat. will.i.am.
The music plays a second time as he raises the plaque and flowers to boos from the audience. He tries to enjoy the moment, but it isn’t long before his face looks like the crowd has. His face sours and he looks back like the crowd grew a second head. He looks down at the flowers and plaque.
“All right, all right, cut, cut, cut! This ain’t workin’, eh!”
The music cuts out as Aleczander grabs the microphone.
“Stop booing! This is the best I could do on this budget these stupid Yanks back there! Come on, now! A little appropriacy, please!”
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Aleczander scowls at the crowd.
“All right! You want to do this again? Cause we’re gonna do this again! And I WILL have me damn flowers for putting Global on the damn map! Now! We’re doing this again! Hit the music!”
More booing as he walks backstage. The unnamed presenters look confused, but try and maintain some composure.
For the third time…
“Hall of Fame” by The Script feat. will.i.am.
The piano intro plays yet again and gets booed before Aleczander The Great returns once again. With big, stupid smile on his face, he blows kisses to the crowd! He walks over to the podium and takes his plaque and gold flowers again. He walks over to the podium a second time.
“Global Wrestling, thank you! I am Aleczander The Great and I look forward to carrying everyone’s arses back there! You have placed your trust in me and…”
More booing rains out.
“…And I’m going to do my best to carry this ungrateful roster to the top, kicking and screaming if I have… okay, come on! Appropriacy, people! Appropriacy! It’s in me Thesaurus! It means show decency! Come on!”
The jeering has clearly broken him.
“That’s it! I’ve had enough! You’ve ruined this moment for me and I’m about to do what any good person would do… take me flowers, complain online and show the lot of you wankers what for verbally before I show some wanker what for in that ring! I was gonna give you a great match later tonight that you can remember for generations, but as us Yanks might say, bump that. I hope the rest of this show is dog’s bollocks then you come crying to me to make it better… CAUSE YOU WILL!”
The so-called Hall of Famer walks off…
Then comes back to snatch the Hall of Fame plaque again. And then the flowers. He takes a sniff of the flowers, glares out to the audience, then marches off as this segment comes to a close.
LEGENDS NEVER DIE
The press has been gathered and herded into the room like cattle as they await the “guest of honor.” After a few minutes of loud chatter, it quickly dies as long-time wrestling veteran “The Legend” Sean Darring appears from the left side. The legend is wearing a classic black suit with a purple tie. He gives a warm and friendly smile and nods to the front row as he takes his seat in front of the masses.
The legend is joined by GLOBAL’s representative Giovanni ‘Due’ Ferrari, also wearing a nice suit and smiling ear-to-ear as he sits next to the legend himself. A dozen or so flashing lights for pictures are taken as we hear the voice from the side of GLOBAL’s press officer, Alicia Fawkes.
“Thank you, all, for being here tonight. Before we open for questions – Mr. Ferrari would like to say a few things.”
Giovanni Ferrari leans forward, glancing at his notes in front of him. “Thank you, Alicia. And thank you to all of you joining us tonight. We are happy to have you join us on this new professional wrestling adventure, GLOBAL. We are honored to have this man sitting next to us tonight.”
As Giovanni Ferarri continues to speak, the camera shifts to “The Legend” Sean Darring, who smiles as the cameras take another shot at the well-traveled wrestling veteran.
“He is a man we all targeted the second we decided to draw up our dream roster or the opening of GLOBAL. I could run down his resume, but that would take up most of our time here tonight, so let’s jump right to the main course because, quite frankly, I am having a hard time holding my excitement in any longer. Here at GLOBAL, we are proud to introduce the man competing in our first main event, the legend himself, Sean Darring.”
A decent size applause breaks out as Sean Darring stands up momentarily, shaking the hand of Giovanni Ferarri and thanking him before sitting back down in front of the positioned microphone.
“Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to Mr. Ferarri, GLOBAL, and all of you for making me feel so welcome in an unexpected chapter in my wrestling career. This all materialized quickly, and I don’t know if I have taken the time to digest what is in front of me, but trust me when I say that – I am honored and excited to be a part of GLOBAL. While in terms of the industry – GLOBAL is a baby company with a lot to prove. What convinced me that this company is for real and here for the long haul is the professionalism and vision of such a well-respected front office; they have my complete trust that not only will this company be pretty unique. And you can quote me on this, one-day this company will be talked about as one of the greats in our industry, and I am so honored to be a small part of that from day one.”
Darring’s high praise and respect raise many eyebrows in the room as GLOBAL president Giovanni Ferarri thanks the legend for his trust and kind words. GLOBAL Press Official takes the queue and opens the space for questions.
“Hi, Mr. Darring. Mitchell Moon from Headlock Weekly. Let me be the first to welcome you back to the wrestling industry. We are pleasantly suprised to see you back after what appeared to be your swan song in SCW. Can you tell me your thought process in deciding to join GLOBAL and how you think you will fair with what looks like a pretty young and talented roster?”
Darring nods, agreeing with Mitchell Moon with a slight chuckle. “I knew the first question would be like – What is your old ass thinking?”
This makes the whole room laugh as the legend continues. “You know, I was hanging something on my ladder last summer. Like all of us, I climbed my six-foot ladder and started to reach up. Within seconds, my ladder gave out, and I found myself quickly lying on my left side. For a few days after – this old body felt like it went another night with Alex Reyn just by making a silly mistake and taking a tumble off my ladder. At that time, I remember thanking the lord that I wasn’t still being tossed around the ring with the great stars of today. So to answer your question – I don’t know what I was thinking, but I hope Mr. Ferrari has a lot of ice tubs backstage because it’s obvious I will need them.”
Laughs and smiles all around as the legend wait for his next question.
“Mike Wilson with LA Sports – “You have been announced in the first main event for Domination, but your opponent is unknown at this time. How do you prepare for a mystery opponent, and looking at the roster, is there anyone you are worried about?”
Sean Darring blurts out – “All of them.” That gets another chuckle, but he continues.
“Thanks, Mike. That is a good question. At this time, I don’t know who my opponent is. However, that comes with the territory. This wouldn’t be my first time going into a situation that is a bit of a mystery. Mentally, I am still sharp, and the challenge excites me. Physically, I am just making sure I am in the best shape I can be. As you pointed out, this roster is stacked with hungry talent. They are just waiting for their shot, and beating me sure wouldn’t hurt. Everyone in that locker room is a threat, especially on day one. There are only assumptions and opinions on day one. We will find out quickly who the real players are. It very well could be that mystery opponent of mine.”
Giovanni Ferarri follows up.
“Well said, and I just wanted to add. Sometimes, business complications must be worked out before we can fully announce everything. However, we are excited about this main event’s potential, and I think everyone will be treated to a fantastic first event.”
A hand in the right corner is raised and is called on for the next question.
“Hello, Mr. Darring, and welcome to Los Angeles. I am Becky Moore with Channel 5. Can you tell us what you hope to accomplish in what may be your final chapter inside the ring?”
The legend pauses, thinking for a moment, then answers.
“To finish with no more hospital stays. Hah, no, I think that is a difficult question to answer. I am not thinking about tomorrow; just taking this final chapter one step at a time and trying to enjoy this unexpected gift I have been given. If I can be a positive influence for whatever time I have left in this business, that would be great. If I can inspire someone to be the next Sean Darring or better, that would be the ultimate gift. This business has given me a great life. When I started, I didn’t even know if I would survive a week. Here I am, 46 years old, still getting invites to compete. I am not sure how this is going to end. Or should I say when? I don’t know if I can compete with the future of this industry anymore. However, if I can give just a little back to the industry that made the legend, then whatever happens in this final chapter will be fine by me.”
GLOBAL’s President, Giovanni Ferrari, cuts in again.
“Such a humble response, but I think we all know what Sean Darring brings to a company, and when he steps in the ring, he is one of the best this industry has seen. There was a reason the wish list started with him. Make no mistake; we expect him to be as dangerous even at 46 years old as he has been in the past.”
Another hand is raised, and the next question is called.
“John Reynolds, The Wrestling Beat. You have been pretty vague; let’s hear it. You have one match left in GLOBAL. Who is it?”
Sean Darring smiles, knowing the question has him on the hook.
“Reporters … Is Chris Hopper around still? He is as old as I am, and we have tiptoed around each other for decades. I think the answer has to be Alex Reyn. I mentioned his name earlier, and it’s no secret we still have some unsettled business. The last time we stepped inside the ring, I was lucky enough to get the better of him. I know he will be sulking in some shadow backstage, cursing my name. The guy is good if not one of the best. You must be on your A game when you step inside the ring with Alex Reyn. It’s a big moment; if we aren’t here for moments like that, it’s time to hang the boots up.”
Sean Darring looks over at Giovanni Ferrari and says – Maybe one day. Press Officer Alicia Fawkes cuts in, saying – One more question.
“Mr. Darring, AJ Madison from Wrestling Fanatic dot com. You have been humble and respectful for the better part of the past few years of your career. However, tapes and footage show that for most of your career, you were more of a snake using whatever advantage you could to further your career and pad your legacy. What do you say to the critics questioning the authenticity of the older, wiser, and humble Sean Darring?
A bit of a hardball question that the legend didn’t expect.
“That is a good question that I haven’t thought much about. I guess the more straightforward answer is – It would be a lot easier to cheat my way through victories, take advantage, and use anyone and everyone in these final runs. I know my body would indeed thank me. But, no, it’s a genuine question for which I don’t have an answer. I was in a different mindset for most of my career. My first tag partner and mentor, Bob Young, showed me a very successful way, and I made a legacy out of it. However, the older one gets, the more one reflects on the real legacy one wants to leave. At this stage of my career, it’s become more about how I can benefit the industry instead of how the industry can benefit me. Now, it’s up to all of you to decide how genuine you think I am. However, I hope my actions over the past few years support my words.”
Giovanni Ferrari takes a queue from the Press Officer and stands up.
“Thank you to everyone for joining us this evening. We are excited to have “The Legend” Sean Darring with us and excited for the future of GLOBAL. We invite you all to join us for Domination, where you will see Sean Darring in our FIRST MAIN EVENT.”
Sean Darring stands up and shakes the President of GLOBAL’s hand. He then turns to the room for one final thing.
“For any of you who want to ask me more challenging questions. Join us backstage for Domination. There will be a whole locker room of great young talent you can meet and talk to. For any of you who take at least five minutes and speak to the future of this industry – I will hang around after the show and answer anything else you wish to ask me.”
And with that – the men begin to exit the stage as we end the press conference and fade.
PRIME TIME VIEWING
Jimmy Classic and “The Suplex Ninja” Trae Larkin are standing by, soaking up what appears to be the most significant moment in their young professional wrestling career thus far. The two youngsters ooze confidence and attitude as Jimmy Classic is decked out to the nines in fashion with a fur overcoat, luxury sunglasses, and fur boots. While Trae Larkin is a bit dialed down, wearing an open vest, pants, and gold sunglasses, he still oozes out “prime time” charisma.
With them, a fellow newcomer in the form of the freckled, blue-eyed Tobias Bellamy, kitted out with a light brown hat, green t-shirt and blue cargo pants, notable for the distinctive knee brace on his left leg. Let’s not forget the red satchel for his laptop and supplies.
Bellamy begins: “Let’s start with the basics here; Who are you? I don’t mean just the name; I, and the audience, want to know what kind of person you are. What got you into wrestling? Family member? Someone you look up to?”
A smile forms as the softball opening question tickles the two men. The more flamboyant of the two, Jimmy Classic is the first to speak and asks: “You want to know the Prime Time Athletes? You want to understand what drives us?
Trae Larkin glares at the nervous Tobias Bellamy. However, Jimmy Classic throws the youngster a bone, not crashing his first GLOBAL interview.
“It’s a simple story, T,” he begins.
Tobias tries to cut in to correct Jimmy that his name is Tobias, but Trae Larkin holds up a finger telling him not to interrupt.
“While most professional wrestling stories have a long-drawn journey of idols, generations of legacies, and a born love for the art, the Prime Time Athletes aren’t anything like that. What you are looking at is plain and straightforward greatness in every aspect of life, T. Everything we have done in our life, we have excelled in. If we want it – then it’s ours. There is only .001 % of true “alphas” out there – or what we call “A-listers,” T. How lucky are you in your first ever GLOBAL interview you get to _make_ your career with the top two?”
Tobias Bellamy tries to respond, but Trae Larkin cuts in, saying it’s a rhetorical question as Jimmy Classic continues.
“You are looking at your worst nightmare. The kids you idolized in your miserable childhoods. The naturals in your little league games. The homecoming king, your girlfriend, daydreamed about. Your college star quarterback and national amateur wrestling champion. The asshole you point across from your boring little lives but wish you could live _ONE_ second of ours. You act like you want to know who we are, T? The truth is everyone already knows who we are. We are those guys you have wished you could be your whole life. “
Tobias Bellamy sarcastically responds: “Well then, I am sure you will make many friends around here. What about you, Mr. Larkin? Or does he always speak for you? Why GLOBAL, specifically? What drew you in?
Trae Larkin didn’t find the sarcastic youngster funny, but he obliges taking the question.
“GLOBAL is in _our_ town, T. Tinseltown, the City of Angels, Hollywood … It only made sense if a league wanted to be big time, then they would go out and get prime time. It’s a natural fit for us. We have been traveling the globe for the past few years, perfecting our craft. It didn’t matter if it was down in Mexico or across the ocean in Japan. We were the spectacle, and in our town, our division, our league – it’s only going to be prime time.”
Of course, Jimmy Classic couldn’t resist adding his “two cents.”
“In just a short time – Jimmy Classic is about to become Jimmy Global, T. “
Tobias Bellamy nods, not in agreement, but to continue the interview: “Is there anyone you’re excited to match against? Or, alternatively, anyone you don’t want to fight?”
Jimmy Classic and Trae Larkin lower their sunglasses a tad, looking at each other and then back at Tobias as if they are saying – Is this guy serious?
Trae Larkin is the first to respond: “It’s like this guy isn’t even listening.”
However, Jimmy Classic knows the “game” well and turns it into Jimmy-time: “Once the GLOBAL world sees the Prime Time Athletes in the ring, we will be every team’s dream match. Who do we want to fight? Quite simply, everyone. We want air time. We will become the faces of GLOBAL as the prime-time brand continues to grow.”
Tobias Bellamy giggles looking at his notecards as he asks his next question. So uhhhh, got any friends in the industry yet? Anyone you want us to keep an eye on with you and all that?”
A big sigh by the Prime Time Athletes as Trae Larkin slowly removes the golden sunglasses from the midpoint of his nose.
“Friends? We didn’t come to GLOBAL to make friends. We are here for a statement. Who is the best tag team in GLOBAL, T?”
Tobias Bellamy looks around like maybe it’s a trick question but responds by saying: “I don’t know, perhaps The Rich Family?”
Jimmy Classic snickers: “The Rich Family, huh? As Trae Larkin continues on his rant.
“Then that’s who we want to face.”
Tobias Bellamy can feel the tension as he looks to quickly move on and close the interview: “Let’s end this on a good note; Any last words you want us to add in for the print? Quips, warnings, last-minute advice for kids or other newbies?”
Jimmy Classic holds his hand up to a frustrated Trae Larkin as if he is saying to his partner; I got this.
“Last words of inspiration, eh, T?”
Tobias Bellamy nods in agreement.
“Well, the first thing that comes to my mind is you need a haircut, T. I can’t believe they even let you in the arena with that mess. Then you need to go out and get yourself an actual suit. Not that thrift store-looking blanket you have on. And those shoes, T!?! Don’t even get me started. It will take much more time to fix this than we have time.”
The Prime Time Athletes have a good laugh as Tobias Bellamy seems to be taken aback as the two men find themselves laughing amongst each other as they turn and walk off. Tobias Bellamy tries to shout toward them, but the PTA is quickly gone.
He has the last word: “At least I am not walking around with roadkill on! And it’s not “T” – It’s Tobias. Oh well, back to you guys.”
VALORIE VITALITY Vs EL PRINCIPE
Lucas Quinn and his two colleagues, Mark ‘The Mark’ Deltzer and Allie Reece flank him on either side: “We’ve just heard from upstairs that Valorie Vitality, a debutant no less, is about to face…El Principe!”
The Mark is aghast: “El Principe? As in former nbW Tag Team champion, one half of the team that stopped The Unstoppables and former SCW TV champion…THAT El Principe?”
Quinn nods: “Yep, the same one.”
The Mark exaggeratedly throws himself back into his chair, throwing his hands up: “AGAINST A DEBUTANT? Why don’t they just throw me in there instead?”
Allie Reece leans in, pointing her pen at Deltzer: “I’d pay to see THAT. GLOBAL, book it.”
“Blow Me Away” by Breaking Benjamin.
As the male vocals and bells chime, the arena goes dark. Once the first guitar riff hits, the lights flash on as the words VITALITY flash on the screens above the entrance. Smoke fills the arena as Valorie makes her reveal. Simply staring ahead at the arena, she simply salutes at her opponent in the ring before making her way over. Getting to the ring, she jumps onto the apron and using the top rope vaults herself over, landing on her feet before taking a moment to look at the dog tags around her neck. She would smile and kiss the dog tags before giving them to someone to hold onto before taking her place in the corner of the ring.
Quinn zones in on that feature: “The dogtags belonged to her late father, who was a marine. Valorie followed in his footsteps, serving this great country with distinction. A multi-talented athlete, of that there’s no doubt, and as you can see by her entrance, full of life and zest, this is a tough assignment for any debutant to walk the aisle. Her opponent is a former singles and tag team champion, who was born into wrestling and is referred to as wrestling royalty in Mexico. The gap in experience is so vast, but Valorie Vitality will bring an awful lot that El Principe has never seen, which is saying something, and that’s why she’s a dangerous proposition for Principe.”
Reece cannot wait to interrupt Quinn: “Well said and all that, Quinn, but she’s got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Does she look nervous? No, look at her up on that top rope, she is in the moment, and ready for war? Give me a break. She’s done that FOR REAL. El Principe holds no concern for her. And when you’ve lost your dad, like she has, what’s a defeat to a wrestler like El Principe?”
Speaking of which…
“Los Consejos De Un Padre.”
Gerrardo Reyes’s versión of the song starts off slowly, but as the trumpets pick up in tempo and volume, ‘The Crown Prince of Lucha Libre’ and the ridiculous crown that sits atop his masked head shine brightly under the Hollywood lights here inside Stage 49.
Blue and gold, like a cheap rip-off of a superhero, cover the entire body of El Principe, who calmly walks the aisle, oblivious to the boos directed at him: “Like him or hate him, El Principe is a talented wrestler, who comes from an incredible line of wrestlers. The ‘El Principe’ name breaks the mould. His father? Arguably the most famous luchador of all time, El Rey. We refer to him as a second-generation star, but he isn’t. Like only one other person we know, our very own Brandon Garrick in the studio, this guy is a FOURTH generation. Let that sink in. That’s the size of Valorie Vitality’s assignment this evening. So, if she wins, you can imagine how humiliating it’ll be for this man south of the border. I dare say, he may need a mask just to enter the house.”
Principe, like Vitality before him, hands his prized possession, the aforementioned crowd, to the official. Mind you, it doesn’t contain anywhere near the same sentimental value, even if he’d disagree with that until he was blue in the mask.
The bell sounds.
Valorie adopts a fighting stance that many, irrespective of their martial art, would and is mocked by Principe for it, who ‘mirrors’ what she does – poorly, I might add. When the bell rings to officially get us underway, not to mention Vitality’s wrestling career, she starts well by blocking a Principe punch beautifully and countering with a straight left of her own. That should teach the 2nd generation star, though it probably won’t.
Right on cue, he closes the distance, but tries another tame-looking punch and promptly gets countered yet again. Frustrated, Principe kicks the bottom rope and Valorie affords herself a wry smile at how quickly she’s managed to get under her more experienced opponent’s skin.
The masked Mexican then changed tact and forces a tie-up, which he wins, marching Valorie, pun intended, back to the corner. Our official, Gabrielle Harris calls for a breakup. As he does so, Principe breaks the habit of a lifetime, though not so anyone on commentary or in the crowd would here, so let me fill you in. He whispers: “Daddy’s Girl,” in English, which Vitality hears perfectly. Principe then holds his hands up, but Valorie turns him around rather rapidly and starts hammering down on Principe with alternate lefts and hands until the Mexican cuts a lonely figure, resting on the bottom rope, with nowhere left to go. Vitality doesn’t hold back with her subsequent corner foot choke and holds it until the brink of five. She gets a bit of a telling-off for her troubles by Gabrielle Harris: “Valorie, don’t do that again. You jumped the gun when you were supposed to break and then pushed your luck with the choke there. That’s your first warning.”
‘Double V’ takes it in her stride in multiple ways, backing up a few paces before storming in with a purpose. In the meantime, Principe has stood up, seemingly luring the rookie in and counters her momentum with a well-time hotshot, or so he thought.
On commentary, Reece exclaims: “Look at that agility and quick-thinking by Valorie to land on the top rope.”
The Mark chips in: “And, for all of his experience, the veteran Principe hasn’t got a clue where she is.”
Momentarily.
The former SCW TV titleholder turns around. Showcasing her superior speed and athleticism, Vitality jumps down from the top turnbuckle onto El Principe, via the top rope, with a Springboard Dragonrana that gets her and the crowd going.
Lucas Quinn remarks: “Valorie Vitality might be a newcomer to wrestling, but if you weren’t aware, that would tell you right there that she’s no stranger to combat, and was two, possibly three, steps ahead of someone who’s been involved in wrestling for as long as he can remember.”
Reece contributes: “Once again, El Principe doesn’t know where he is, hunched over…BEAUTIFUL Axe Kick, and I don’t think Valorie is done there.”
Valorie patiently waits for Principe to stand upright before mowing him down with an emphatic BIG boot, and enthusiastically flops down to record her first victory inside the squared circle…
Uno…
Dos…
Tr-y again, Valorie!
Undeterred, Vitality stands Principe up prior to taking him down again, with ease as Quinn adds on commentary, via a Russian Legsweep. Valorie is cheered as she mounts her Mexican opposition and tees off with half-a-dozen rapid-fire punches before breaking on four in accordance with the official’s count, mindful of not ignoring his previous warning.
Contrastingly, El Principe, slow to his feet following that fabulous barrage by Vitality, tries to complain. He narrowly avoids a wonderful-yet-wild Roundhouse Kick, showing he does still have his wits about him, and negotiates a tie-up, which he wins yet again with a knee to the ribs.
Quinn: Dolores Bell, one of El Principe’s favorite tactics, more commonly known as a Bell Clap. Before our veteran referee can step in, it’s the turn of our veteran wrestler to capitalize on a rule-bending trick and set Vitality up with a Belly-to-Belly Suplex, and it’s one full of impact.
Over to Lucas Quinn, the voice of GLOBAL and only individual on our 3-pronged broadcast team who has wrestled: “They don’t teach you that in the gym. Valorie is no stranger to dangerous environments, but that bone-on-canvas contact doesn’t get any easier and El Principe isn’t finished.”
In fact, Quinn, who has done his homework, knows it’s the first part of a trilogy. Principe’s second Belly-to-Belly doesn’t register on the (Wendi) Richter Scale like the original effort, but the cumulative damage will resonate, no doubt. Principe doesn’t release, seeking the trifects, and gets it, completing EL TRICOLOR. Count, referee, and know your role, por favor…
One…
Two…
Valorie shoots a defiant shoulder up. Meanwhile, Principe questions the fair count. Trust him to complain. Our referee gives him the peace sign to reiterate it was a near fall, not a match-winning one.
Principe ponders raking the back, and cleverly takes a glance back to see the referee has a great view of it. He chooses not to, lifting Valorie up for a German Suplex, complete with a bridge.
Eins…
Zwei…
D-enied!
El Principe, fresh off his suplex spree, changes tact and looks to apply a Single Leg Lock. Just as he’s about to turn VV over, Valorie surprises him with a Headscissors Takedown from a sitting position and climbs to her feet, limping a little as a result of the technician’s fine handiwork.
And that pays dividends for El Principe momentarily when he catches an eager Valorie with a counter of his own in the form of a Drop Toehold. Insultingly, he applies a Side Headlock and makes the mistake of patting her on the head, which Reece gulps at on commentary, and the three-strong commentary team collectively does it when Vitality stands up and DECKS Principe with a fantastic forearm strike. The crowd lights up and groans on Principe’s part in equal unison.
El Principe tries to stand up, and falls back immediately, akin to a boxer beating a 10-count. In the meantime, Vitality heads outside and stays on the apron, constantly monitoring Principe’s position. When she senses he’s conscious of where he is, she shows off her gymnastic background. Principe, believing her to be posturing, runs right into a lovely Vaulting Headscissors Takedown. Vitality already has another maneuver in mind and treats the crowd to another example of her amazing agility with a technically gorgeous Handstand Legdrop.
1…
2…
3?
Not quite!
Just as Valorie is about to jump on Principe again, he catches her with a kick to the knees while he’s in a seated position and shows he can trade heavy blows with an Undertaker-like uppercut that reels Vitality, though to her credit, she doesn’t go to ground. She does, however, when Principe stands up and completes a 1-2 combination consisting of an Inverted Atomic Drop and a Shinbreaker.
Figure Four coming up…until Vitality fights free with a couple of hard shots from a seated position herself, mirroring what Principe did to her merely moments ago.
Reece comments: “I believe Valorie thought about using a kick there, but may still be hurting from the Shin Breaker, and went for fists instead. It paid off. She’s got a lot of weapons in her arsenal, and not surprisingly, with her military and gymnastic background.”
A kip-up backs that up and a Pele Kick fells Principe in one swoop.
The Mark exclaims: “Where did that come from?”
“An impressive debut, regardless of what happens here, from Valorie Vitality, who has been the aggressor against a man who should have walked into this match as favorite yet looks bewildered by what he’s seen.”
Reece weighs in: “She’s a breath of fresh air, and he’s long into the tooth.”
A slight limp precedes Vitality’s ascent to the top rope in the north-western corner of the battleground.
Excitedly, Quinn quips: “Vitality will fly…Corkscrew Shooting Star Pre-YES, NO, Principe with the knees up, and that’ll knock the wind out of anyone’s sails in a hurry. Principe looking to punish Valorie here, and this is where the veteran excels. This has to be the moment when he capitalizes.”
A Snap Suplex is a sound start. He follows that up with a couple of elbows to the inside of the leg, and a Seated Senton before dragging her over to the ropes and completing the trick not once, but twice. That stuff hurts.
Principe drags Valorie up, whips her to the opposite side and she comes back with a desperate forearm. However, when VV sprints in, yet again, Principe is there and he thwarts her offensive attempt with a wonderful Wheelbarrow Backbreaker, softening up the spine, too.
Another Kneebreaker visibly hurts Vitality, but an attempted Belly-to-Back Suplex sees Valorie land on her feet – just about anyway – and then she buckles, letting Principe back in, who exploits the opening with a fabulous Front Chop Block that has an awful lot of venom, intensity, and intent behind it…
…Or would have done.
“Valorie Vitality, just in case you weren’t aware, shows sensational agility AND ring awareness to avoid a tide-turning Front Chop Block by El Principe, and scores with a Standing Shooting Star Press to the Mexican’s back as he flops forward as a result of missing that Chop Block. Oh my god,” Reece reacts.
And if our enthusiastic commentator is impressed by that, then how about: Two does of a Roundhouse Kick, and in spite of Valorie’s power source being drained by the Mexican Mat Master (said no one ever, except for now,) step two is a superb Scorpion Kick, which has got El Principe stumbling around like Flanagan on St. Patrick’s Day, and now for the third and final act…Spinning B-LUE THUNDER BOMB BY PRINCIPE TO STEAL IT?!
Uno…
Dos…
TRE-SO CLOSE!!!
Valorie’s Sweet Chin Remix hasn’t got its full first airing, that’ll surely come another time. Meanwhile, El Principe, after taking a battering, is now looking to build on the Blue Thunder Bomb. Both are teetering. Who can get that all-important and decisive move to dash the other one’s chances here on the maiden GLOBAL Domination, live in Los Angeles?
Quinn: “Principe looking to turn Valorie over here. Can he get it? Yes, no, Valorie is fighting with everything she’s got, but Principe is also doing everything in his power to turn Vitality over. Can he do it? Yes, he can! EL CLUTCH is on, and after going through the dryer with Vitality, it looks like Principe will prevail here.”
EL CLUTCH (KONDO CLUTCH!)
Principe has got Valorie folded up like a sun lounger, and Vitality now understands why people talk about El Principe’s experience and technical skills, because she’s suffering the brunt of that at his hands – aye, literally. God, I hate that word.
“Don’t count Valorie out yet, Quinn. She’s fighting it, her legs are what brings her to the dance, and look at her go…YES! You go, Vitality! She got there,” Reece smugly states.
Quinn concedes: “Yes, she did, much to the delight of Allie Reece and the capacity crowd here, but Principe is happy to play party-pooper, dragging her out of the ropes the hard way and catching Vitality in mid-air with a bone-crunching Powerbomb, AND he holds on for a second edition to make it a Double PowerbomNO, Valorie puts on the brakes, gets in a hard right hand then finally, a Hurricanrana reversal by Valorie!”
1…
2…
NO!
Principe is up first, though Vitality is not far behind and the Spinning Back Kick she couldn’t get for Sweet Chin Remix earlier on.
Yep, she gets it here instead!
Reece punches the air: “YES! What a shot by Valorie! She’s now going to the top, and yes Lucas, it now looks like Valorie is going to prevail here.”
Lucas defends himself: “I’m sorry I can’t take sides like you, Allie.”
While their bickering continues at the desk with The Mark resting his feet on the table like a proud instigator, Vitality comes over to the bottom rope to start the beginning of the end and hit Principe with a Moonsault from close range. He doesn’t budge, as she resumes her routine and replicates her form from the middle rope with another stunning Moonsault.
“This is it, gentlemen,” Reece brags.
Heading to the summit, Vitality knows she’s almost home and dry. She takes a moment, breathes deeply and then takes off for the trifecta…
FINAL FLIGHT!
Valorie shouts ‘YES’ once again while Quinn takes over: “Vitality got it, all of it, and yes, looks on course for a tremendous first victory here in GLOBAL, wrestling in fact…”
UNO…
DOS…
TRES!!!
Vitality jumps up, and is greeted by Gabrielle Harris to raise her hand in victory, a moment Valorie will never forget. Breathing heavily, perhaps the significance of the moment hasn’t yet kicked in, and she climbs the top rope to give a military salute who repay her hard work and efforts ten-fold by rising in their masses to give her a magnificent standing ovation. Over to our team:
Quinn goes on: “Valorie Vitality with an amazing win on her wrestling debut against a man that has enjoyed singles and tag team success in Mexico and here in the USA, and you could say that was a dominant win, all in all.
In between, Vitality comes to the diagonally opposite corner to repeat the feat.
The Mark remarks: “El Principe did ground Valorie at times and should’ve been a nightmare first opponent. He used his regular strategy, which I think was the way to go here, less than he usually does, and I think that cost him. Having said that, I truly believe we should give Valorie Vitality the credit she deserves for being too fresh, too fit and ultimately too much for El Principe.”
The third leg on Valorie’s tour, and the reception is no less vociferous than the previous two.
Reece rounds it off: “I was just about to tell you off for downplaying Valorie on her debut.”
“I wasn’t,” The Mark says, holding his hands up defensively.
Finally, Valorie completes her victory lap around the ring, and heads out of the squared circle, victorious and now smiling from ear to ear, clearly having enjoyed her in-ring bow.
“That’s all right, then. El Principe didn’t wrestle well because he wasn’t allowed to. This match was all about Valorie Vitality, a tricky first match to have, and she passed the test with flying colors.”
Winner: Valorie Vitality
FROM A TO SO BE IT
Amber Lee is pacing back and forth in front of the dressing room, a jump rope in one hand. She was dressed in her show gear consisting of black leather pants and a black and grey tank top with matching wrestling boots. She is nervous and when she was nervous, she either ate or worked out, right now was one of those workout times. She starts doing double unders to try and calm her nerves. People pass by and a few times they nod their heads to Amber, but nobody ever says hello. She doesn’t know a soul here and she is beginning to wonder what she has gotten herself into. Amber stops for a moment to take a drink of water and to look at her cell phone that she has sat on a chair when someone approaches her from behind.
The jet-black mane and Technicolor dream coat of Alfie Button make the cheeky Cockney a hard man to miss. However, in this instance, he gravitates towards the impressive Amber, 6’2 and a good four inches taller than Alfie.
“Wait a minute, ‘ang abaht. I recognise ya from somewhere. You’re, give me a sec, no, no, don’t tell me…you’re Amber Lee? Ah’m right, aren’t I? ‘Ey Alfie Button, very pleased to meet ya, ‘ow are you, Amber? All right?”
Amber smiles and tucks some hair behind her ears as she reaches out to shake hands. “You’ve seen me before?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
Alfie grins back at her and nods: “Yes, I ‘ave, ma’am. Wrestleverse. It was a guilty pleasure ov mine. Aw, sugar, I shouldn’t mention ovver companies ‘ere, should I, you never know ‘oo might be tittle-tattling, treacle, but yeah. You ‘ad a food fight, which I fort was FANTASTIC. It looked like a lotta fun. Was it?”
Amber responds: “Oh god you saw that food fight match from Wrestleverse? It was pretty cool I guess until she tried throwing a pair of tongs at my head! Luckily, I ducked, and she missed me altogether. So, Alfie, where have you performed? Or is this your first time getting into a wrestling ring?” Amber asked as she looked him over on the discreet side
Alfie, hands on hips, cocks his head to the side, being uncharacteristically coy: “I’ve been arand, sweetie. Not as famous as you but duckin’ and divin’ in different places. Good job, she missed, ain’t it? I mean…’oo brings a pair ov tongs to a food fight, eh? Some people! So, you’re gonna be in GLOBAL, I take it?”
Lee nods in agreement: “I am, and I am guessing you are as well? I decided to take a break after Wrestleverse for a few months to help look after my mom who is recovering from cancer. She’s doing much better now and is recovering nicely, she wanted to be here tonight but the doctor said her health isn’t quite good enough just yet. Man was she right pissed when the doc told her that!”
The fast-talking Button sighs and his dark puppy eyes are most definitely on show: “Aw, man, ‘ow do I, EVEN I, reply to that, Amber? I’m sorry, darlin’, that is ‘orrible, I mean, proper naughty, and God bless ya mum. Glad to ‘ear she’s doin’ well now, and that ya back wrestlin’ again. Tell you what: When she is ready to come to a show, do me a favour and come and find me? It’d be great to meet ‘er, Amber. And it’s been lovely meetin’ you, too. If you ever need anything, just give me a shaht. We could be Tag Team champs down the road. I can see it now: The A-Team. No, wait, got it – THE A-GAME! Yeah, or just…Alfie and Amber? OR Amber and Alfie? Eivver way, petal. A pleasure and don’t be a stranger.”
Lee replies: “Thank you Alfie I will tell her that and I will let you know. She’d love to meet one of my co-workers, I’m sure. Listen, I was wondering if you didn’t have plans after the show if you wanted to go and get dinner with me? I’m always starving after a wrestling match.”
Alfie laughs: “A girl after my own ‘eart, Amber. I can’t understand why more wrestlers don’t get the munchies after a long day at work. Wherever you want. I’ll meet you back ‘ere and we can paint the town red…or just ‘ave a bottle ov the red, my treat.”
And, just as Alfie glances back at Amber Lee, oblivious to Button’s admiring gaze, the parted curtains of a tanned, clean-shaven competitor who has a leather jacket over blue tights with four distinctive letters that give away the identity of this ‘sports entertainer’ immediately: BEST.
Alfie almost squeals: “DAZZA, MATE, ‘ow are ya doin’?”
Darren is crushed by Alfie’s welcoming hug, given that they haven’t seen each for at least eighteen months: “I WAS okay, and how are you? WHO is that?”
Button takes one last look: “Amber Lee, and before you say anyfing, it ain’t like that and she’s outta my league. Wrestleverse. ‘ell of a wrestler.”
Best smiles with a twinkle in his eye, hopeful one of his best friends finds love: “Nothing else?”
Alfie shakes his head: “No, sir. She’s a good girl, though we are going out for dinner, ah ah, it’s nuffin’ like that. I fort she looked lonely, and I’m a friendly geezer. Mind you, I was brickin’ it as I was speaking to ‘er.”
Best adopts a serious stance, shaking his head relentlessly: “You don’t usually struggle with the ladies, Alfie.”
Alfie waggles his left index finger: “Ladies, I DO struggle wiv, and Amber’s one ov ‘em. Anyway, let’s skip pleasantries or we’ll be ‘ere all day. Seen ‘im yet?”
Best genuinely doesn’t know who Alfie’s talking about, and his eyebrows affirm that: “Who?”
Incredulous, Alfie lets out an infectious laugh, which reminds me of Kurt Angle during his posturing with Brock Lensar: “Come on…don’t come all over butter-wouldn’t-melt wiv me, particularly when you’re giving me grief for Amber. Your main squeeze…There’s a wind comin’, and you know what I’m sayin’.
Best shrugs his shoulders: “He’s not even here – to my knowledge.”
Alfie affords himself another chuckle: “To your knowledge, no. But, ‘e’s ‘ere and you’re dafter than you look if you don’t fink he ain’t gonna show up ‘ere, pronto.”
Best plays devil’s advocate, folding his arm and adopting a defensive stance: “What makes you say that?”
Alfie slams his right hand into his left, seemingly playing detective and laying the law down: “Right…let’s ‘ave a look froo the key’ole.”
Darren turns his head and pretends to call Miss Lee back to embarrass his ex-tag team partner: “Amb…”
Button covers his friend’s mouth and then lets go, lowering his own voice, though not after telling Best off: “DON’T, DAZZA! Right. Your mate has an obsession wiv you and vice-versa, right? ‘Oo else is there? Malta, rivalry. Darring, rivalry. The Rich Family to a geezer, rivalry. Me, ‘oo started this ‘ole fing, or was the reason at least, and Darring went and mentioned ‘im in the presser earlier. We’re all under one roof, and it ain’t Toys R Us, is it? Come on, Dazza. He might not be ‘ere now, but if ‘e ain’t ‘ere by next week, I’ve got a shot wiv Amber Lee, and I really don’t before you say anyfing. We’ll be friends, possibly tag team partners at best, pun intended. Get your ‘ead outta the clouds – we’ve been in several places togevver with The Riches, and Reyn has been there. Every. Single. Time. What are the odds on ‘im changin’ the ‘abit of a lifetime? Really?”
Best flashes a smile that shows he visits his dentist’s more frequently than his handler: “I didn’t know you were into conspiracy theories, but if he is, so be it.”
Alfie arches his hands, like that annoying emoji Scott sends me: “So be it?”
Darren doesn’t hold back: “So be it! Let him come and…”
Nor does Alfie, who resembles a rooster nodding with the jet-black mane of his: “Beat you for the fifth, sixth time? What is it now?”
Best feigns to be hurt, holding his heart: “Was that really necessary?”
Button pokes Darren in the same place: “Yeah, I fink it was. I look out for you, and you for me. But, watch out for The East Wind – because it ain’t blowin a gale right now, but soon, it sure will be and you’ll be in the firin’ line. Laters. Good to see ya, and take care,” he says sincerely, grabbing Best’s hand for a moment, and pressing it against his own chest before departing because guys don’t show their emotions, or whatever.
OLD SCHOOL V NEW SCHOOL
Valorie Vitality, fresh off a convincing wrestling and GLOBAL debut against the well-travelled and seasoned El Principe, looks pretty pleased with herself as she enters the backstage area and gets some approving nods from GLOBAL staff until she comes across one Jed Johnson, not dressed to wrestle, and looking like he’s about to have a night on the town with Jason Brown, sunglasses indoors and a rather ‘fetch’ black shirt with gray trousers: “Valorie Vitality, another acrobat. Great. Just what the wrestling business needs.”
Valorie halts mid-stride and glances at this person from the corner of her eye before speaking: “… Is there something wrong with the way I performed in the ring? Because if there is something you think I can improve on, I’m all ears…”
Jed sniggers and holds his hands up incredulously as he animatedly explains his personal philosophy: “Where do I start? Valorie, this is called WRESTLING; Do you honestly think you did anything that resembled wrestling in there? That would be your starting point. THAT is what you can improve on.”
Crossing her arms, she would simply arch an eyebrow: “Oh really… you say what I did wasn’t wrestling… but I don’t think the others seemed so bothered by it… neither did the crowd… What matters is putting on a good show… correct?”
Johnson repeatedly shakes his head in disagreement: “No, No, no! What matters is staying true to the art and sport of wrestling. The crowd has got nothing to do with it. You sold out, like countless others before you, and degraded yourself and this sport in the process. So, you won and got a few cheers in the process? Well done,” Johnson concludes, giving Vitality a mocking golf clap.
A tinge of anger begins to swell within Valorie, but she remains stoic, her gaze unwavering. “If that’s how you feel… maybe YOU could show me what the “true sport of wrestling” is all about? You seem to be quite the expert after all. You must have QUITE a lot of victories under your belt if you can criticize my techniques in the ring.”
Jed steps forward, closing his eyes, and then opening them to meet Vitality’s gaze square on: “Maybe I will. How does next week suit you, Valorie? That’s if you haven’t got a gym class already booked?”
She smirks a bit as she uncrossed her arms, resting one hand upon her hip and extending the other out towards Jed. “The sooner I can put your foot in your mouth, the better… I’ll see you next week.”
BLIND DATE
“Hell is gone and Heaven’s here, there’s nothing left for you to fear…shake your ass, come over here.”
Everyone recognizes Robbie Williams’s hit single from nigh on twenty years ago. Many in attendance realize it indicates the imminent arrival of one Alfred Button, better known as Alfie, who DARTS out, unable to contain his excitement. He is delighted to perform in front of an American audience once again. A former World title challenger and showman, the chirpy Cockney might be hard to understand, but he’s got a heart of gold, a way with words and is a supremely-gifted athlete to boot.
Jason Brown: “On his way to the ring…weighing one hundred and ninety pounds, from LONDON, ENGLAND…The A to B of Professional Wrestling, The A-Game, Freed from Desire…everyone in GLOBAL is terrified…faster than a hiccup and pick-up put together, the man who the boys wanna be and the girls came to see, from Bhutan to Milan, if anyone can, HEEERE’S…The Viewers’ Choice, The Host with The Most, ALFFIIIE ‘YOU’RE ALL MUTTON DRESSED ASSSSSSSSSS” BUUUUUUTTTON!!!”
Lucas Quinn: “Jason Brown has done a hell of a job tonight, and clearly sought out Alfie Button for that personal introduction. Alfie’s blisteringly quick and already on hand to thank ‘Downtown’ for his marvelous MC work, and on the top rope. This man has been a star, like others here, who has been waiting to break out for years. We saw great strides in SCW, where he unsuccessfully challenged for the World title there. Can he go one better and put his money where his mouth is here in GLOBAL? He doesn’t even know who he’s wrestling, like so many others tonight, and you can tell he doesn’t…”
Button catches Quinn and points down towards him: “Lucas, look ‘ere mate…no swearin’ on commentary, the first night, innit? Monkey’s. That’s the word ya lookin’ for, mate. I don’t give a MONKEY’S. Learn it and life’s a doddle.”
“You heard it from Alfie himself. He doesn’t give a…MONKEY’S?”
“You get used to him. He’s one of my favorites, I’ll not lie. But…”
CALL ON ME!
The Mark shakes his head in disbelief: “Not these guys, you’ve got to be kidding me, COME ON,” he says throwing his headset down for extra effect.
Adorning tight red t-shirts and navy blue trunks, the fair-haired and fit Damon Somner, weighing in at 180 pounds, is up front and center, performing star jumps while the curly-haired Greg Matthews, broader than a door at 6’4 and 274lbs, struts behind him like he owns the place.
“They don’t come much fitter than ‘The Engine’ Damon Somner or much stronger than ‘The Powerhouse’ Greg Matthews, collectively known as Health Fanatics. Fortunately, Somner doesn’t possess his partner’s power and likewise, Matthews isn’t exactly renowned for his finesse or every tandem in GLOBAL would be in trouble, but they compliment each other very well. The question is: What are they doing here? They’re not contracted to GLOBAL according to our notes, and Alfie was set to face someone in singles competition. Is it Somner or Matthews, because they represent two significantly different tests?”
“He doesn’t give a monkey’s, Quinn,” The Mark reminds Lucas.
Somner calls for a microphone as he ascends the stairs, chuffed with himself for raining on Alfie’s parade: “Alfie Button, we have never ever liked you. You’re just, what do you Brits say again, a PRAT. Yeah, what are you gonna do?”
If you’re anything but British, this theme song won’t mean a damn thing to you, and so it proved in LA. Somehow, an executive in GLOBAL either wrangled the rights for this or, MORE THAN LIKELY, the recipient – or little toerag – of this theme music told them they’d be able to get away with if they ever used it: “We’ve got some half-priced cracked ice, and miles and miles of carpet tiles TV’s, deep freeze and David Bowie LP’s.
Pool games, gold chains, wosnames and at a push
Some Trevor Francis tracksuits from a mush in Shepherds Bush Bush, Bush, Bush, Bush, Bush, Bush, Bush.”
Alfie is open-mouthed, he knows what’s coming and covers his eyes as one Danny Button, his cousin, walks out with a burberry hat, a full-length leopard’s skin jacket, fake Ray-Bans, a large gold chain and silver earrings with loafers, and he’s a sight for HAPPY eyes.
Danny also has a microphone with him: “In case ya don’t know, that ravver special young man just ‘appens to be me cousin. Now, Alfie, I know you reckon I’m embarrassin’ mate, but ‘ear me aht. Honest a God, I’m ‘ere to ‘elp. These geezers wanna a right sort-out, and I’m game, believe me. But, the troops are ‘ere, so I don’t haffta, me old treacle.”
“I call you, when I need you, my heart’s on fire. You come to me, come to me, wild and wired.”
SIMPLY.
THE.
BEST.
Darren Best, Alfie’s former partner and the other half of The Entertainers, emerges to an excellent reception…THE SUPER MARIO BROS THEME BY MR. BUNGLE?
Oh, no!
The Mark squeals, and I mean SQUEALS: “YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES…”
Looking like only he, The Fonz, Spider from Micro Machines and the character from the game with the same name can, Kid Chameleon is here to lend his services to Alfie’s cause. That’s a tough call, though not according to The Mark.
Then…
Amber Lee walks out. Alfie does a double take, and meets Amber’s eyes: “Fank you,” he mouths to her.
Danny: “Tough competition, Alf.”
Just for the record, NO ONE calls him Alf. Only this numpty.
“So, instead ov puttin’ ya on the spot, I’ll leave it to the crowd: If you want Darren Best, give ‘im a cheer.”
Danny takes that into account: “Not bad, Dazza.”
Best takes a step back, as does Kid Chameleon, and they’re clearly in on it to fix the result. Danny sees what the pair are up to: “If you want Kid Chameleon in the back there, give ‘im a cheer.”
It’s a good reaction, mainly emanating from the commentary position, and Danny waggles his right hand, claiming it’s close between Kid and Darren. Before he can even announce April Lee’s name, egged on by Kid and Darren urging them to raise the roof, the audience erupts, as April smiles, no doubt aware of all these stupid shenanigans are going on around her.
Danny raises the microphone to his lips: “Looks like we ‘ave a winner. ‘Rosie Tea’ Amber Lee, sweetheart, go and knock those PLONKERS on their ARIS for me, trifle.”
ALFIE BUTTON & AMBER LEE Vs HEALTH FANATICS
The hometown girl gets an OUTSTANDING ovation as Brown gives it the big’un: “From LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA…give it up for the AMAZING AMBEEEEEEER LEEEEE!”
One suspects that Alfie Button may’ve had a word with Jason Brown while ‘Blind Date’ was in progress.
Amber steps between the ropes and Alfie Button immediately greets her with a hand on the shoulder, unsure how to act around Miss Lee: “Amber, I really appreciate ya comin’ out ‘ere to help me.” As he says that, he notices Danny and Darren waving goodbye, and discreetly gives them a V, and it’s not for Victory.
“I didn’t understand a word your cousin said,” she admits to Alfie.
“You don’t wanna, eivver, Amber. I wish I didn’t, believe me,” he says shuddering.
With that out of the way, Damon Somner and Greg Matthews, almost forgotten about amongst all that nonsense, come to a compromise on who’ll start for them.
Alfie Button encapsulates the stereotypical English gentleman by allowing Amber Lee to start. She smiles, readying herself to square off against Damon Somner, who isn’t anywhere near as chivalrous. A collar-and-elbow is silently negotiated, or so Somner thinks, when Lee uncorks an exquisite Capoeira Kick that has Damon doing the chicken dance! Two seconds later, he’s rolling around on the floor like a headless chicken when Amber gives him a carbon copy Capoeira, Part II.
Somner rises to his feet unsteadily. In vain, he attempts a Short Clothesline, but isn’t able to do an Iron Sheik and hospitalize this woman, who is much more capable and wraps him up in knots, courtesy of a Full Nelson. While Somner’s scrambling amuses The Mark on commentary, there’s no love lost there, Lee compounds his situation by effortlessly elevating him into the air and back down with an awesome Full Nelson Slam!
Rather than go for the cover, perhaps playing into Amber’s enthusiasm and inexperience in equal measure, or testament to her grander vision, Lee simply waits for Somner to rise and aimlessly wander into a Short-Arm Clothesline. Somner is only kept upright by Amber, simply because she wants to whack him with a second one, which she does successfully and emphatically. If that weren’t bad enough, a delightful Dropkick decks Damon and Amber ‘gets her flowers’ in the form of a fantastic round of applause.
Lee beckons to Button, who like everyone else in attendance, is clapping her excellence. She is more curious to know whether he wants the tag or not, and he does. However, before she departs the scene, Amber presents Alfie with an early Christmas present in the form of an opening to showcase his high flying skills by planting Somner with a brilliant Belly-to-Back Facebuster, which the crowd gets a kick out of, given it looks like she was going to slam him backwards as opposed to planting him face-first. Button scurries up to the summit and poses prior to taking off with a gorgeous Frogpump Elbow, which he affectionately dubs…
The Mark: Alfie Button…COME ON DOWN!
1…
2…
Greg Matthews imposes his physical presence on proceedings, firstly, because he can and to prevent what he perceives to be a threat to his team’s chances. However, what he doesn’t bank on is a returning Amber Lee and Alfie Button showing first-class teamwork, despite this being their initial outing as a duo, and unleashing a picture-perfect Stereo Dropkick to thwart his interference and send him back to the corner with his tail tucked between his legs, much to the fans’ and commentators’ hilarity and delight.
And, that continues momentarily. Amber goes to link arms with Alfie, who awkwardly believes it’s a cuddle (we’re both British, so sue me!) and…
“Did Alfie Button just try to hug his tag team partner in the middle of the match,” Allie laughs.
In true Mark fashion, he sticks up for one of his favorite stars: “He got confused, it happens.”
Allie snaps: “What happens? Hugging your crush in the middle of a tag team match on LIVE TV?”
The Mark points to the ring: “Look, he’s saying sorry.”
And to be fair, Alfie is. He digs his thumbs into his eyes, mightily embarrassed, wishing the earth would swallow him up. After a reassuring word by Lee, the Englishman Irish Whips her towards Matthews, though Amber REVERSES it and instead it’s Alfie who’s sent hurtling towards the man mountain that is Greg Matthews, who cuts the Cockney off with a hefty Reverse Elbow!
Lee makes up for that by making use of Alfie, perhaps not in the way the young English chap would like, stepping up on him, so Button serves as a springboard and Amber scores with a STUNNING Leg Lariat in the corner. Just for the record: Alfie Button is the legal member for his team.
Amber is ushered out by our INEXPERIENCED REFEREE’S NAME HERE and gets her second standing ovation of the bout in a mere matter of moments. Sublime.
Meanwhile, Lee leaves Button, who is now up, behind to deal with Somner. Damon isn’t far behind and gets to the exceptionally quick Cockney first, somewhat surprisingly, delivering a kick to the speedster’s knee before driving him into the mat with a DDT to potentially change the chartered course for Health Fanatics.
Somner executes three textbooks star jumps, and it gets a customary reaction of being roundly booed. He adds some substance to his style, however, in the form of a stiff elbow drop, and then another. Unlike his perfect trifecta of star jumps, though, the little dipstick goes and misses with his third, because of his predictability and the fact that his opponent is quicker than Kylian Mbappe running directly at Harry Maguire. Hopefully, it’s coming home.
Alfie goes and makes a mug of me, though. He misses with his own Standing Moonsault, and that gives the inexperienced official an opportunity to hone her craft, what on earth am I talking about? She only needs to count.
Upon reaching 4, Damon comes to collect the Cockney flyer. Notwithstanding, Somner’s Suplex attempt is blocked by the Brit, who not only puts the brakes on, but SMASHES Somner with an UNBELIEVABLE European Uppercut, hollering I PITY THA FOOL to accompany it. Annoyingly, Alfie takes it everywhere, spams the life out of it and catches on. It will in GLOBAL, and I pity you, Dear Reader.
Moving on, Somner replies with a meaty right of his own, but what would you know…I PITY THA FOOL! The Mark, familiar with the European Uppercut and its reaction, parrots Button on commentary.
A Standing Shooting Star Press from Alfie!!
1…
2…
Not enough!
The cheeky Londoner gives Amber the green light for the tag. NO? Okay, I tried. Button rams Damon’s head into Lee’s long left leg and Amber enters, promptly lifting the cardio freak up onto her shoulders, so he’s over seven feet in the air. Seemingly scared of heights, Damon frantically scrambles for a last-second solution, and reverts to punching the top of Amber, but to no avail. Amber falls backwards, Damon bearing the brunt of the collision, courtesy of an…
ELECTRIC CHAIR FACEBUSTER!!!
1…
2…
Greg is there to pull Amber away from Damon, and silently takes his second warning for interrupting. Coincidentally, Amber decides to unearth a move in hers and Matthew’s playbook, hauling Somner up like a bag of sugar and holding him up there at her own will, the crowd counting to ten until Amber ‘pities the fool’ and drops him squarely with a delectable Delayed Vertical Suplex.
Amber has done her part – again. It’s now Alfie’s turn to be tagged back in, and he has massive plans…
BRITAIN’S GOT TALE-IN the nick of time, Damon escapes, paying Button back for earlier.
Somner is closer to his half of the ring than Alfie is, and edges towards Greg’s outstretched paw, which he slaps and the strongest individual in the match demonstrates that raw, brutish strength. With one basic Lariat, he turned Alfie inside out, threatening to take the Brit back to a bygone era and publically behead him.
While Quinn raves about Matthews on commentary, and The Mark sulks, Amber’s instinct is to interrupt, just as Matthews has done. Unfortunately, our official manages to prevent her AND if that isn’t bad enough, the Health Fanatics double-team Alfie, though in fairness, Damon is almost oblivious to this: Greg lifts Somner up, who is somewhat startled, and drops Damon onto Alfie for an assisted Splash! Greg flees the scene, leaving Damon atop Alfie…
1…
2…
Alfie still has enough in the bag to deny Damon. Just for good measure, Amber starts a ‘LET’S GO ALFIE’ fund, I mean chant, and three thousand fans humor her, Alfie and themselves, even if Greg is asserting himself like the proverbial bull in a china shop, tossing Alfie around with an Inverted Suplex like the Cockney were a Barbie doll. Well, he has the hair for it, at least.
Greg stares at Amber, presumably because of what she did to Damon earlier, and NAILS her new tag team partner with a Full Nelson Slam that might as well be the bird.
ONE…
TWO…
Alfie kicks out again.
Damon, who tends to do this, wants back in now that Matthews has done the heavy lifting, figuratively and you know the rest.
Before he goes, Greg wants you and specifically Alfie to remember him, and he sends Button to the HF corner, back-first, with AUTHORITY. Somner steams in, sprints towards Button and Damon lets rip with a Flying Forearm, and then shoves him back towards Greg, who goes out with a bang, and a BIG-TIME BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX!
Like a thief in the night, Damon scurries over to take credit for Greg’s great work…
1…
2…
Amber saves Alfie – again.
While she is unwillingly escorted out by our official, Somner and Matthews extract the urine with relentless Double Axes, here come the smashes and do a demolition job on Button, crushing him like a, mm, pineapple. Matthews gets out while Damon mouths off to Amber. He’s in control, Alfie is hapless, at least for now, and can do nothing to deny Damon from issuing a beautiful Butterfly Suplex. Rather than going for the cover, which may seem churlish, Somner takes his time scooping Button up and taking the English Rocket over with a smooth Snap Mare and a subsequent Enzui Lariat to the back of the bonce. OUCH!
Somner then rebounds off the northern set of ropes, closest to the commentary team, for an attempted Running Knee, but Alfie rolls backwards out of harm’s way.
Button is now back up, barely, before a corker of a Calf Kick just beats Alfie’s attempted SUPERKICK to the punch. Does that make sense?
Somner tags Matthews back in, and Health Fanatics have clearly read the first chapter on the book of tag team wrestling, haven’t they? Frequent tags, keeping each other fresh and isolating one member of the opposing team.
Button may or may not have read that book. But, as Matthews lifts him up like his Monday morning weights, Alfie has a surprise in store for the strongman, countering Matthews with a RATINGS SLUMP!
1…
2…
3…
Oh, you thought it was over? No, this is the referee’s count.
4…
5…
6…
Matthews stirs first, but Button is the quicker of the two and makes Greg ‘The Weakest Link,’ which is a DDT to a kneeling opponent.
Another double down. Let’s skip to 6 again…
Matthews gets to Somner.
Damon rushes into the ring like a firefighter heading into a burning building. Unfortunately, he’s about to have his fire extinguished when Button dives and tags out to his newfound partner, Amber Lee, and cue the hot tag!
BIG BOOT!
Somner is dead to the world. However, Lee isn’t about to let him lie in. She wakes him up with a KIM—CLOTHESLINE from the blind s—SUPERKICK BY BUTTON FROM THE BLIND SIDE! All control has been lost, as if it were ever really there with this referee, and Matthews goes tumbling through the middle rope, Humpty Dumpty style, and we’re not sure if he can be put back together after that one.
Somner, suffering the side effects of Amber’s BIG boot, is reeling. Alfie says something inaudible that isn’t quite caught by the camera, but quickly becomes apparent as he and Amber stand side by side and then wreak absolute havoc on poor Damon Somner’s chin, detonating with a STEREO SUPERKICK!!
Amber looks at Alfie, who holds his hands out as if to say: This is all yours, and it is, partly because she’s the legal representative for this team.
Button stands guard in case Matthews mounts a miraculous recovery. He is on the outside, but can only watch as Amber hooks Damon’s right leg…
1…
2…
3!!!
She hugs Alfie, who doesn’t know how to react, and then our referee raises BOTH their arms high into the air with Amber delighted at their victory and Alfie bewildered by what has just happened, akin to what his dazzling speed does to others. Now, he knows how Michael Corleone felt when he saw that stumbling thunderbolt called Apollonia.
Come on, ‘Downtown’: “YOUR WINNERS…AMBER LEE AND ALFIE BUTTON!”
Could this be the start of a beautiful partnership and a significant addition to our tag division?
Winners: Amber Lee and Alfie Button.
ADVERTISEMENT
Pacing across a wide open space of grass, with a smattering of trees, is a man in his 60s wearing a cream suit. His face is rounder than the older viewers would remember it being. He is walking at a blistering speed.
“Were you once a famous comedic actor, famed for his sketches on primetime television?”
The scene cuts, and now he is walking across the screen in the complete opposite direction, again at the pace of a man twenty years his junior.
“Were you invited on to panel shows and chat shows every week?”
Again the scene changes and he is going in a different direction.
“Do pensioners still stop you in the street and shout cutlery based catchphrases at you?”
Another directional change.
“Do you miss the days of gala’s and awards ceremonies?”
He’s still walking fast but in yet another direction.
“But do you still like reminiscing about those days when you could do cocaine in the toilets without the paparazzi portraying you to be some villenous oaf?”
Another change, but now he seems to be stomping rather than racing.
“When you could do what you wanted, to who you wanted, and get away with it because the publicly funded television networks would cover your tracks?”
He is walking directly to the camera all of a sudden, stopping just a few paces away.
“Well you are in the right place. Join the RWDNWAAA today. Because, Respectfully, we did nothing wrong. The Aging Actors Association. For those of us who never did anything wrong, and nobody can ever prove otherwise.”
NERVES OF STEEL
Fresh off an emphatic first-round knockout, Tommy Steel, the charismatic crew-cut and no-nonsense knockout artist and submission specialist wanders into his post-fight press conference and takes a seat: “Thanks, guys. Questions?”
A blonde-haired female journalist starts us off: “Tommy, Marta Garcia here, an amazing win. What is next?”
Steel stares straight ahead, trying not to get worked up by what he believes to be an empty and pointless question: “You know what I want. I’m not gonna stop until I win the title. It doesn’t matter who, where or when.”
A young 20-something fan stands up in the second show with a light-blue t-shirt, black jeans and bright white sneakers: “Congratulations, Tommy. It was an impressive finish. You can knock people out or make them tap out. Do you believe you’re the best fighter in the division?”
Steel relentlessly shakes his head and raises his hand: “Have you not been to any of my press conferences, kid? You’ve already answered your own question. Guys can usually do one OR the other. I can do BOTH. Which makes me the best fighter, not only in the division, but the company and the entire sport.”
A journalist diverts Steel’s attention to the back of the room: “Tommy, you’ve often talked about turning your hand to other things, like fighting YouTubers if the money were right or going into professional wrestling. We recently heard rumors GLOBAL, a new wrestling company based in Hollywood, might be interested in securing your services. Is that true?”
Getting agitated, Steel keeps bobbing his head around like one of those cheap Chinese cats: “Nobody’s reached out. Listen. I may say some things about those people, and they’re not on my level, but if the money’s right…put up or shut up!”
The same journalist presses him on that: “So, you would be interested?”
Steel takes a moment, unlike him, before answering: “I’m not thinking about anything right now.”
“As a wrestler or commentator?”
Son of a gun. We can tell who the professional in here is, can’t we, dipshit?
“What’s your name, son?”
“Lucas Quinn,” the African American remarks for the record.
“Lucas, if the money’s right, I’ll commentate on my own matches while I beat the shit out of someone. I’ll tell you one thing: They don’t want me in Hollywood! Okay, guys, good night and I’ll see you soon.”
THE X-FACTOR
Alfie is walking down the hallway backstage immediately after his match, still in gear. Crusader emerges and approaches him, wearing casual clothes. A hoodie, black jeans, and one of his merch shirts.
“Alfie Button! Great win out there. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Crusader says, extending a congratulatory hand.
With a weirded-out expression looking down and accepting the handshake, Alfie greets Crusader with an ‘ello, ‘ow are you?’
Crusader explains: “I’ve been watching your matches online for a long time. You’re a hell of a competitor, man. When I started my training about seven years ago and told them that I wanted to focus on high flying, you were actually one of the guys that my trainers and fellow trainees told me to watch out for. Said you had a lot of potential. I’ve seen you in some WARS, man. Your match against Caleb Foley in SCW for the title. Those times you faced that psycho, Alex Reyn. Can’t believe he’s here too. But through it all, you’ve stuck to what you do best even when everyone tried to hold you down or belittle you. And you’ve never lost sight ofwhat’s truly important: the fans. You’ve been a real inspiration to me. And now that you’re here in GLOBAL, I think you have the chance to go further than you’ve ever gone.”
Alfie finds this whole conversation a tad surreal, though is impressed at how much this guy knows: “You’ve done ya ‘omework, mate. Fanks for ya kind words, I appreciate it.”
Just as Button is about to turn on his heels and walk away, the chirpy Crusader picks up where he left off: “So, I have a proposition for you. First of all, I’d like for us to train together sometime. And since I’ve been a tag wrestler most of my career and I’d like to get back to that… maybe we can team up. Our styles are different enough that we can cover each other’s weaknesses and play to our strengths. We could even teach each other a thing or two. What do you say?”
Alfie, not often stuck for words, deliberates the invitation: “Sounds great mate, but I’ve got a quick questing for ya if you don’t mind: Exactly, ‘oo the ‘ell are you?”
Crusader laughs, you know the fake kind: “Oh, my apologies! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Crusader X. I’ve mostly wrestled down in Mexico and the southwest, but I signed here after…”
Alfie interrupts, pointing at him, something clearly on the tip of his tongue – figuratively speaking, of course: “YEAH, you do look familiar. I saw ya ‘it someone wiv a Double Roation Moonsault against…Vagabond, or somefing or over…Vagabundo Jr, that’s right. You’re one ‘eck of an aflete, my man. That was you, right?”
Crusader chuckles again: “Yes. It was.”
Solemnly, he adds: “Most difficult match of my career.”
That soon subsides for a smile: “But I’m proud of it.”
Button agrees: “Ya should be, mate. Well, what I’ve seen of it anyways. I’ll give it a prover watch and get back to
you mate. I’ve got dinner wiv Amber Lee, you should really watch her stuff too, she’s amazing. I really must dash – speak to ya soon…”
As Alfie goes to leave, Crusader laughs and gently blocks his path: “Ahhh, you don’t need to. I plan to have my best performances yet right here in Global. And I’m sure you do as well. I think that, together, we can help each other to achieve that better than we could alone.”
Button sighs out of frustration: “Listen mate, we don’t know each ovver. Yes, I’ve seen clips of ya, and you clearly of me, but this is the first time we’ve met and you’re a ‘ell ov a salesman, I’ve been arahnd enough to know that, but I ain’t buyin’ just yet. I’m doin’ okay on me own, but if anyfing
changes, I’ll get back to ya. Cheerio.”
Crusader holds his hands up: “You’re right. We don’t NEED each other’s help. We NEED food, water, shelter, and love. That’s it. Everything else in life is a matter of want, not need. I WANT your help. I WANT to team with you. I WANT to win titles and make a statement in wrestling. I WANT to prove that these parasites who look down on you and I and everyone who doesn’t do things their way are wrong. That’s what I WANT. But you’re right. This is all talk. So, during my debut match, how about I SHOW you why it’s a good idea for you to want the same things?”
Button gently says: “Oookay, mate.”
Crusader closes the deal with another handshake: “Great! Really nice meeting you, man. See you around.”
Button, almost worn out by the conversation, puts his hand on his mane and scrubs it a couple of times: “And I fort Danny were weird. Anyway…”
THEY CALL ME THE FAT MAN...
Steve Blaine, black suit and tie and ready for an dinner party invitation at a moment’s notice, is standing by with ‘The Fat Man’ Steve Dann, kitted out all in blue, akin to Akeem for you old-school WWF fans out there, and greasy shoulder-length brown hair with a towel, which is a tad confusing, given it doesn’t look like he’s washed his hair for weeks.
Anyhow, Dann is nervously kicking his heels on the floor, staring straight down the camera as he listens intently to the experienced interviewer: “Steve Dann, on this history-making night, you get the opportunity to make a bit of your own when you face Victor Ingram Price, AKA VIP, who has been installed as an early favorite to be the first GLOBAL champion, whenever that may be decided.”
Dann sighs before grabbing Blaine’s hand, so Dann is controlling the microphone without rudely snatching it away from Blaine: “From one Steve to another, GLOBAL has brought me in to be the fally guy once again. I’m enhancement talent, yes, that’s what we call it in the trade. I’m an opponent. I’m here to make VIP look good. People like me, Steve, that’s what we do. That Dann’s a good wrestler, even if he’s fat, out of shape, ugly and nobody would give him a second glance if he were on fire. That’s fine.”
Blaine asks: “How do you beat VIP?”
Dann smirks and pushes his unwashed mop back, oozing no style whatsoever: “How does he beat me? They’re not giving me a chance, and you’re not giving me a chance, so give me that damn microphone right now. We’re done.”
Blaine surrenders his grip and Dann shoos him away: “I admit I was at the back of the line when the faces and bodies were being handed out. No problem. I was there bright and early the day wrestling skills were distributed. And, as far as I’m concerned, that’s what this is all about. GLOBAL doesn’t even feature wrestling in its marquee. These days, it’s all about sports entertainment and if your face fits, and VIP’s does. Apparently, he knows the higher-ups, so their plan is for him to beat me convincingly, and move on to bigger and better things. I’ve seen it my entire career. And, I’m used to it. But, I am also fed up and pissed off, and so tonight, VIP, I’m gonna make an example of you. The ring is a leveller. You can wrestle – so can I. WHEN I beat you, GLOBAL management still won’t give me my due, but I’m gonna beat you and everyone like you until they have no other option. It ain’t over till ‘The Fat Man’ wins.”
'THE FAT MAN' STEVE DANN V VIP
Coming back from commercials, viewers are only treated to the tail end (they haven’t missed anything, in reality) of Steve Dann’s entrance as ‘Downtown’ Jason Brown reads his vitals: “From Shreveport, Louisiana, weighing three hundred and seventy pounds…It Ain’t Over Until…’The Fat Man’ STEEEEEEVE DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN….WIIIIIINS!”
That is the highlight. Over to what what Giovanni Ferrari and company want you to see, though. Firstly, the theme music: Cee Lo Green’s ‘Bright Lights Bigger City.’ The catchy 2009 number, which some feel should’ve been a bigger hit than it actually was, is indicative of Victor Ingram’s career: A former tag team partner of El Principe as part of A-List, he has also enjoyed some semblance of success as a solo star, and is tipped to do well in GLOBAL in many quarters.
As he walks that aisle, having forked out thousands of dollars on a glorious gold and purple robe with ‘VIP’ sparkling across his shoulders and neck, the leggy VIP also has matching tights. To complete the entrance of someone who cannot hide his ambition to be ‘The Star’ here in GLOBAL, fireworks shoot off from the stage, spraying gold glitter in all directions. Victor Ingram Price cannot complain that they haven’t featured him ahead of his first bout for the company.
However, as he walks up the steps, and onto the apron, smiling ear to ear and revelling in the attention, Dann has other ideas.
Immediately, Steve Dann jumps on Victor coming through the ropes, which annoys the hell out of VIP, presumably because his grand entrance and GLOBAL debut has been cut short by someone, he feels is beneath him (Everyone is, according to VIP.)
Quinn quips: “Steve Dann ripped the script up right in front of VIP’s eyes and the aspiring Hollywood actor didn’t take kindly to it.”
Dann fires off with a trio of right hands, backing VIP up into the south-eastern part of the ring from the entrance and much to the delight of the crowd and Ingram’s chagrin, Steve unloads a volley of unanswered shots until VIP, robe still on by the way, is slumped in the corner with nowhere else to go having been dominated by Dann on their respective GLOBAL debuts. The crowd cheers this, though Aaron Powell, the tallest referee in wrestling, is less impressed and gives Dann a warning, which brings the mood down ever so slightly.
“You know the rules, Dann. Break before five,” Powell says, leaving Dann furious, but Steve just about holds his anger in, eager not to be disqualified and keen to stick it to VIP and the management as a result.
Dann pulls away and then returns with interest in the form of a BIG Body Avalanche, squashing VIP. A Belly-to-Belly Suplex greets VIP, who would have fallen without that intervention, though I’m not sure how grateful VIP is for that.
A cover here…
1…
2…
Dann to win it…3?!
No, not quite.
Buoyed by that, and realizing the crowd was on his side, Dann exits left, playing to the public and embracing his de facto face status for the contest.
SLINGSHOT SPLASH by the 370-pounder, and surely that’s it…
…Price rolls out of the way, avoiding a sure fire upset in the process.
Quinn: “What a start by Steve Dann. Ingram hasn’t got going, and is now just taking his robe off. Mark, you know him better than any of us here. What is going on in his mind right now?”
The Mark: “It’s written all over his face. He’s frustrated, furious that Dann has ruined HIS moment, and he’s set to take all of that out on Steve Dann in a second or two.”
In fact, Victor throws his gorgeous golden robe over the top rope like a guest tossing their unwanted towel into the shower once they’re done with it, only this is thousands of dollars, though that shows you how much Dann’s out-of-the-gate assault bugged and bothered him.
Ingram gets to work by dropping to Dann’s ‘level’ and choking Steve mercilessly until Powell hovers close to five. Like Dann, Price also doesn’t want to be disqualified, and Powell shows no partiality whatsoever, issuing Ingram with exactly the same warning. However, VIP doesn’t react as well as his opponent did.
“What is your problem?”
Powell steps towards Price: “Excuse me? You’re the one with the problem and if you continue like this, we’re gonna have an even bigger one.”
The Mark claps Powell’s words: “You tell him, Aaron. That narcissistic piece of work thinks he can get away with anything, and it helps, I must admit, it looks like Aaron could probably destroy Price and Dann in the same night if they wanted to fight him. I probably shouldn’t say that.”
Unbeknownst to the audience, The Mark actually gets told off for that off-hand comment in his earpiece by the powers that be.
Anyway, as you can imagine, Victor is clearly incensed and sticks the boots to Steve Dann until he is forced out of the ring on the west side of the ring, having received similar treatment to the robe that is still on the arena floor on the outside, and is only now just being picked up by our ring announcer, INSERT NAME HERE, who doesn’t get paid for that.
Powell looms large, he is 6’8 after all, and looks down in Price, who is 6’5 himself: “Victor, I’m telling you, calm down, respect the rules OR I will disqualify you.”
Typically, Price responds: “Do you know who I am?”
Powell gets a kick out of that, though elects not to show it: “Yes, I do and I don’t care.”
Ingram looks like he’s about to get in Powell’s face. Aaron doesn’t flinch at the thought, and the crowd volume increases, almost baying for Ingram to try it. In a way, that brings Victor to his senses, as he doesn’t want to grant the fans’ wishes of an upset here. That motivates him at the best of times, and here, it sobers him up.
Instead, he slides through the ropes to greet Dann, who has gone for a little walk, at the south side of the squared circle and unknowingly given Ingram more room to aim at, slamming Steve’s head into the ring apron.
Then, he slams all 370 pounds of Steve Dann on the red carpet, and The Mark can’t resist: “That’s NOT the Red Carpet Treatment VIP usually uses, but hey, it’s effective in the situation.”
Reece represents MOST people by firing back: “Yes, we get it and no, it wasn’t funny.”
Meanwhile, Vic rolls back in only to roll back out, breaking Powell’s count of four to a close. It’s clear he wants to spend some more time on the outside, and lo and behold, The Mark wasn’t too wide of the mark: Victor is going for his patented Flatliner, The Red Carpet Treatment on….the red carpet.
“If he hits this, it’s over either by count out or disqualification,” The Mark predicts.
“That might be one of the smartest things you’ve ever said,” Reece reluctantly agrees.
Dann, sensing immediate dangers, picks Price up and then forcefully rams him into the steel steps like a bull running through someone during ‘Sanfermines.’
Over to Quinn: “What impact from Dann, and he’s gone from a certain defeat to what could be a famous victory in the blink of an eye because VIP looks like…”
Before he can finish his sentence, The Mark shouts: “BULLSHIT!”
Quinn is perplexed: “Pardon me?”
“I’m sorry, but he does,” The Mark apologizes.
Allie wonders: “Do you want to be fired the first week?”
Anyway, back with the action, and Dann rolls back in on Powell’s count of four. Steve seems content to pick up a victory via count out and leave Vic in the cold. Let’s fast-forward to between six and seven when Price makes it, barely mind, onto the apron. Dann decides to react and set up a Suplex designed to bring Victor back in the hard way. Can he get it? Yes! With no fightback at all. Hollywood’s Brightest Star, as only he calls himself, is fading badly on his bow here in his own ‘personal playground.’
One…
Two…
Vic’s still in it.
“Ever since the start of the match, this hasn’t gone according to plan for VIP, has it?”
The Mark picks up Quinn’s question: “Is that you using another script analogy without actually using the word ‘script?’
Lucas laughs: “Yes, I was thinking about it, but then thought…would that be too cheesy?”
Dann’s Irish Whip interrupts that awful commentary and just as Steve is about to take off with a daring, can’t wait for the main event by the way, Diving Crossbody, the Californian KICKS Steve SO HARD in mid-air to bring the superheavyweight bruiser back down to earth with a bang.
VIP points towards his head, and rather than appreciate his quick thinking, the audience boos. The best way to get back at them? Punish Dann, who for tonight only perhaps, represents them. He scoops Steve up, intent on an Irish Whip of his own, only for Dann to reverse, showing Steve still has enough in the tank. Not only that, he cuts VIP off with a questionable Two-Handed Throat Thrust, but rather than stick around to be reprimanded by Powell, he takes another step towards spoiling Price’s party with an ENORMOUS Jumping DDT!!!
“That could do it,” expresses Quinn.
ONE…
TWO…
TH-AT WAS CLOSE!!!
So much so, that Dann questions Powell, who reiterates it was a two. Steve then gets on with his job, another Irish Whip nigh, and once VIP reaches the corner, Dann sets off with – and scores with – a stunning CCS Enzuigri, Samoa Joe style. Are we looking at an upset here? VIP’s former partner, El Principe, was the victim of one earlier. Could Ingram be the next name on the list?
Dann lifts Price onto the top turnbuckle like a baby and sits him down before planning to join him for what almost certainly won’t be a dinner for two at a fancy restaurant.
Ingram rejects Dann’s invitation with a pair of rib-tickling right hands and a headbutt, which does as much damage to Price as it does to Dann, who slides off the buckles. Unfortunately, for him anyway, Ingram looks like he’s about to fall off the top ropes to the outside, and just manages to catch himself. Oblivious to anything else, The Mark makes his partners and those around him laugh legitimately by mirroring Price’s previous head-pointing, while impersonating Ingram’s current drunken-like status, as all of this is in progress
A kick by VIP causes some separation. No one is laughing when Price, certainly by his standards, takes a MASSIVE change by lunging with a DIVING RED CARPET TREATMENT (Flatliner.)
However, disaster for Dann is averted when Steve catches the Californian in a Bearhug position and rams, not for the first time, Ingram into the buckles where he came from! VIP’s back must be killing him.
Dann backs up a bit, just as he did with the Body Avalanche at the outset, and a STINGER SPLASH LANDS. VIP comes out of the corner like a demolished block of flats, and Steve, keen to enter the history books with a convincing win on Domination 1, returns with a regular Splash, which ALSO connects!
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!
Dann gets it!
Quinn cries: “WHAT AN UPSET HERE.”
NO, he doesn’t. VIP, somehow, some way, moved his shoulder mere millimeters. Dann and the crowd can’t believe it, and Steve raises his arms, only for Aaron Powell to pull them down and warn Steve that the match and VIP are still alive. The folks here at The Globe thought that was it, as did our commentators. Back to present tense…
Steve looks out to the crowd. The majority of them roar encouragement, urging him to find that one final move that is bound to seal VIP’s fate and spoil his grand plans, whatever they may be, here in GLOBAL.
Dann shouts: “That’s it!”
Steve successfully whips Vic into the ropes, pushes him up into the air for his ‘COOKIE CUTTER’ (Based on the Bubba Cutter) and he gets…
A Hurricanrana reversal for his troubles!
The Mark shakes his head repeatedly: “I don’t like him, I won’t lie, but he’s an amazing athlete for his size and that was an amazing counter. I did not see that coming.”
Price, breathing hard, is now the one calling for Dann to get up. The crowd, silent and stunned, manages to muster some resistance in the form of jeers…
SPINNING HEEL KICK BY DANN!
…Which turns them into cheers.
“I didn’t see that coming either,” The Mark happily confesses.
Dann crawls over to execute the cover.
1…
2…
NO!
The crowd, charged up, encourage Dann. Maybe this time: An Irish Whip by Dann, who wants to prove he stands out for the right reasons with the aptly-named COOKIE CUTTER in mind…
Only Ingram never lets go of Dann’s hand and in an instant, quicker than it takes for your noodles to be ready or your kettle to boil, Victor Ingram Price, thinking more clearly than anyone else gathered in Stage 49 despite being roughed up by a 370-pound human bowling ball, has the presence of mind to DRAG Dann into deep water and give him a special dose of THE RED CARPET TREATMENT in the center of the ring!!!
It’s left to The Mark, through gritted teeth, to yell out: “LIGHTS OUT FOR THE FAT MAN!”
That’s not all: Oddly, Victor goes to follow through and lock on a version of the Koji Clutch, only for Aaron Powell to immediately SHOVE him off, which startles Price and onlookers everywhere as a result. Open-mouthed, Victor is HOT, and watches in amazement as Powell turns Dann over, making sure Dann is flat out – which he is. In what is a strange turn of events, Powell calls for the bell, causing mass confusion. Powell comes over to the far side to talk to our ring announcer to explain what has gone on, Price at the front of the queue searching for answers first and foremost, as the official word is relayed to the crowd: “Your winner…via TKO…Victor Ingram Price…V.I.P!”
Powell’s bid to raise Price’s hands are snubbed. Ingram angrily storms out of the squared circle in spite of his hard-fought victory. He heads down the aisle, decked out in red carpet fittingly for him, and only turns at a safe distance, mouthing obscenities at Aaron Powell, who stares stoically before turning his attentions to Steve Dann, who is now moving, albeit groggily.
Puzzled, Allie ponders: “Okay, what just happened? I get him being hot for being jumped by Steve Dann at the start. But, he wins the match and is angry at the referee for doing the right thing by protecting Steve Dann? What on earth was he thinking about applying a submission after hitting The Red Carpet Treatment? Why didn’t he just go for the cover?”
The Mark has the last word on commentary: “That’s why he’s an asshole, guys.”
Winner: VIP
AND HERE, I EAT YOU ON THE FOOD CHAIN
A FURIOUS Giovanni Ferrari storms towards the backstage area, cursing underneath his breath as he goes. He times it just perfectly catching close friend, Victor Ingram Price, arms folded, though not in his typically obnoxious demeanour.
They both go off one on another: “VIC, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”
“What was what, Giovanni? The stupid fucking imbecilic referee you gave me out there? Where was Snider? Or even Staggs? Where the fuck did you get him?!”
Ferrari lowers his tone and ushers Price away: “He’s here to help.”
Ingram is taken aback by that and laughs in the president’s face: “Here to help? What would he have done if he wasn’t?”
Giovanni whispers: “Lower your tone. There are people watching.”
Ferrari sports a fake smile for some backstage staff that catch his eye: “HEY, how are you doing?”
Ferrari puts his arm around VIP and escorts him away from prying eyes: “Let me tell you a few things: You and Dann are over six hundred pounds between you. He’s six-two and you six-five. Powell’s the only guy who can deal with you physically if anything gets out of hand, and I didn’t think that would happen, but I’m sure glad I had him in there.”
In a controlled shouting-yet-whispering tone, Ferrari edges his face closer to that of his friend’s: “WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING BY PUTTING ON A SUBMISSION AFTER KNOCKING DANN OUT?!”
Ingram seems genuinely surprised, though not in the slightest bit intimidated, by his dear friend’s outburst: “I was trying to make a statement.”
Giovanni nods, though not in agreement: “Oh, you achieved that. Vic, I love that you’re here, but remember we’ve got at least forty wrestlers here, and rising. I’ve got a board of directors deliberately set up to fail. The network isn’t really behind this at all, and that shit hits me FIRST, and rolls downhill after that. Jerry Watkins has drawn a lot of attention to this business, which isn’t highly thought of in my circles anyway, and then you, one of my best friends in the world, goes to seriously injure someone on the first show. This isn’t the VIP Show, even if you think it is.”
“Is it not? So…”
Ferrari raises his hand: “All of the promises I made? I promised you an opportunity and you’ve got one. It’s up to you to make the most of it in the ring. You’re pretty lucky, given that Watkins had you blackballed from the business and here you are, butthurt after winning a match because there was a referee you didn’t like. Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”
Before Ingram can interrupt, Giovanni continues: “I’m not playing favorites here, Vic. Are we clear? I’ve got a wrestling company to run, and you’re a wrestler, so go out there and wrestle. If you win, you win. But, leave me to my job and I’ll leave you to yours, AS LONG AS you’re not pulling dumb shit like that. Oh, and Powell? He’ll be your referee in the next match too.”
Price grabs Giovanni’s arm: “Please, you don’t want to do this.”
Ferrari fights free: “Do what? You’re not bigger than me here, Vic. And you’re not bigger than GLOBAL. Good night and talk later.”
Price watches Ferrari wander off. VIP is seething but smiles at onlookers. Mindful of not making a scene, he silently acknowledges them and walks in the opposite direction.
THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
Brandon Garrick, the long-haired 4th generation star with bright blue eyes, is standing by in our studio overlooking The Globe while ‘Jump Around’ by House of Pain plays in the background, causing fans to get a bit rowdy and sing along in anticipation for the main event.
From left to right: Brandon, Ray Young, who has left the boardroom, Jackie James, Michael Mercer and Jimmy Mann.
“Gentlemen, we’re almost at the end of a historic night. ‘Legend’ Sean Darring, which we’ve known for a week now, will be one half of the main event. His opponent? Yet to be determined. Ray, you’ve won the World title more than anyone else here combined by some distance. How do you combat that?”
The white gnashers are on full display: “Pleasure to be here, I CANNOT wait to see Sean Darring in action and who he’s up against. I am SO excited that it’s ridiculous. But, to answer your question, Brandon: What can you do? In this situation, you do you, and that’s what I would do, and I’m sure Sean Darring will. When you’re as good as he is, go out there and show everyone why you’re the man, why you’re in the main event and be the best version you can be. Guys, we keep worrying about who the opponent is. THEY should be worried that they’ve got to get in there with this guy. He is GREAT. G-R-E-A-T, and I don’t say that about too many people in our business.”
Ray is distracted by some fans chanting his name and gives them a whirl. Brandon moves down the line: “Jackie, you’re renowned for your wrestling technique, experience and wisdom, as is ‘Legend’ Sean Darring. What advice would you give him?”
The cameras pick up LSD approaching what you all know as the Gorilla Position, and pictures are beamed to our live crowd, who are excited to see the iconic figure, looking a million bucks, ready for action.
James answers: “I don’t need to tell this man anything. Like Ray said, worry about yourself. This guy has got several submissions in his arsenal, not just the Legend Lock, and he’s won more titles than many guys have had matches. Beware though, look at Valorie tonight. Experience goes a long way, but Sean’s got unbelievable ability, incredible conditioning and is a smart man. Put all of those tools together, and that’s why he’s a legend.”
Brandon thanks Jackie before gesturing to Michael Mercer: “Michael, you and I spoke earlier on today about Darring. I want to ask you about his opponent. What would you do in THEIR position? They’ve got the advantage, we think, of knowing they’re going up against Sean Darring. How do you approach it from their point of view?”
Mercer licks his lips: “We don’t know if it’s a brawler, high flyer, submission specialist or a mat wrestler getting in there. Like these men have said, be you and stay away from Darring on the mat, no matter how good you are. Everyone in this studio is a fantastic technical wrestler, and NOT ONE of us would like to trade holds with Sean Darring. Like Jackie said, there’s so much more to him than the Legend Lock. He’s got the Spider, which I’d hate to be caught up in, and he’s lethal on the mat. Stay away from him there, make him wrestle your match, and what I’d do, Brandon? Hit him early with a big move, one of your go-to weapons, and get his attention. It’s not easy to get this man’s respect. Don’t be in awe of him, either.”
There are boos as Jimmy Mann stands up in the studio, albeit in jest, in tribute to one of the great heels of yesteryear. He sits back down, everyone smiling, and brings his chair forward: “Brandon, you’re gonna ask me what I’d do? Lemme tell ya. I’d CHEAT. There, I said it, but you’ve gotta be smart about it. Too many guys today? They do it in full view of the referee. Mask your punches, use your head, especially in the tie-ups, and break on the count of five.”
Europe’s Final Countdown plays as Brandon turns to the camera: “Gentlemen, and Jimmy, thanks for your thoughts. We still don’t know who Sean Darring is going to face. But, would you bet against him, America? And the world? Let’s see if he can get through this. Down to ringside for GLOBAL’S FIRST, HISTORY-MAKING MAIN EVENT!”
"THE LEGEND" SEAN DARRING Vs ???
As we get set for our main event, the focus is on legendary boxing announcer Marcus Anthony Newman who stands in the centre of the ring.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, this match is set for one fall! Introducing first, from Miami, Florida… Weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds… he is…
“T H E L E G E N D”
S E A N D A R R I N G ! ! !
Several fans begin to cheer as green mist emerges from the back. “The Legend” Sean Darring walks through the mist as he walks down the aisle way. Decked out in a full-blown golden robe with the words “The Legend” written in silver glitter letters. Some fans reach across their seats and into the aisleway trying to touch the legend. Sean Darring stops along the way to greet young fans and spend a few seconds with them as he continues towards the ring.
On commentary, The Mark is almost giddy with excitement.
“THE LEGEND IS BACK EVERYONE!! Former SCW World Champion! A CWF Hall of Famer and a true legend in our sport!”
“But he gained those accolades through intelligent planning.” Quinn noted “Tonight, he’s going up against a completely unknown opponent. The last time he did that, it didn’t go well for him.”
“But I think that’s exactly WHY he’s accepting these challenges.” Allie said. “That war with Alex Reyn, which he WON in the end, made it clear that he doesn’t have that many more years left in him. We’re looking at a man who wants to live the twilight of his career without fear and without regrets.”
Finally, after what felt like a long few minutes, The Legend steps between the ropes and into the squared circle. Sean greets the fans. He turns one final time with his long elegant robe and raises his arms.
“Oh come on, it’s the LEGEND! Give him more of a reception than that!!” On commentary, The Mark was incensed. Allie meanwhile shrugged.
“It’s natural considering our platform. A lot of these people are movie fans, not sports fans. They haven’t followed Mr. Darring’s illustrious career like we have.”
“Yeah, well they’re in for a treat.”
[The robe comes off and Sean Darring takes in a massive ovation from the crowd before he folds the robe up and tosses it aside to a stagehand.]
“Alright! Who’s he gonna face?!” The Mark is rubbing his hands in excitement.
The Hollywood crowd has their phones out ready to record videos. Smoke fills the entrance ramp. A platform rises from the top of the entrance ramp. A slim athletic Caucasian man with blonde hair comes from the entrance ramp. The man wears a blue shirt, jeans, white cowboy hat, and American flag for a cape. The titantron shows an American flag pattern with the words ‘THE AMERICAN DREAM’ in red, white, and blue lettering. “American Idiot” by Green Day blares over the PA system in the arena. Daniel Dream walks down the entrance ramp.
“Holy sh- DANIEL DREAM??!!” The Mark has almost jumped out of his seat.
“Break it down Mark.” Quinn said. “What does Sean Darring have to face tonight.”
“One of the fastest rising stars in our industry! Former IBW World Champion! United States Champion! And a record setting tag team champion!”
“He’s a man that is definitely looking to make an impact here tonight against a pro-wrestling legend.”
Newman announces into the mic, “From Atlanta, Georgia! Weighing in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds! ‘The American Dream’ Daniel Dream!”
Daniel finishes his walk down the entrance ramp, heads to the corner, walks up the ring steps, climbs up to the middle turnbuckle and throws his hands up to fire up the crowd. Daniel hops back down to the ring apron, turns to face the crowd, before entering the ring over the middle rope. Daniel goes to the other turnbuckle, gets on the middle turnbuckle, and fires up the crowd. Daniel gets off the turnbuckle, takes off his American flag cape, folds it, and hands it to Newman ringside.
“Alright, here we go! The LEGEND vs the American Dream! Quinn, break this one down!”
“Both men are well versed in technical wrestling. Daniel Dream looking a lot leaner with a height and weight advantage, Sean Darring obviously has the edge in weight and experience, but he also hasn’t prepared for his opponent like Dream has.”
The two wrestlers lunge towards each other for a lock-up, For a few seconds, they struggle. Giving ground back and forth until Sean Darring tries to slip behind Dream for a waist lock, but Dream uses his longer reach to keep his distance and instead uses Darring’s own movement to bring him down with an arm drag. Darrig is quick on the recovery though, and goes for another lock up, only to be slapped in the face by Daniel Dream!
“OH COME ON!!” The Mark yells from the commentary while Quinn is more neutral.
“Daniel Dream trying to get inside the head of his opponen-”
“That’s not strategy, Quinn. That’s just him being a prick!”
Some of the crowd is laughing at that, but Daniel’s cocky smirk suddenly turns into a look of fear as an irate Sean Darring grabs him for a single-leg takedown that Dream narrowly averts by back-peddaling and grabbing hold of the top rope.
The referee calling for the break now. Sean Darring slowly backs away… Looks like it’ll be a clean break…
Darring swings his hand at Daniel’s face! The Dream covers up to protect himself!
..And Sean Darring mockingly pats him on the cheek before stepping back and making a ‘bring it!’ gesture. This gets a MUCH more positive response from the crowd.
“Ha! Two for flinching ya jerk!”
“Please remember we’re meant to be unbiased Mark.” Quinn admonished.
“He started it!”
Now it’s DREAM’S turn to look enraged, but that anger costs him as an errant charge is quickly caught with an arm drag into a fujiwara armbar by The Legend. There’s a struggle in the hold, Dream is able to turn towards Darring to alleviate some pressure and make it to his feet. Pushing Sean into the ropes, he shoots his opponent off towards the other side of the ring. Trying to trip Sean up with a drop down, but the wily veteran grabs the ropes to halt his own momentum!
“Daniel let Sean get in his head too much just now and of course we see Darring’s experience to avoid that drop down. It’s an instinct not a lot of our younger guys have.” Quinn said.
A rolling kip-up brings Dream back to his feet and the two stare each other down. Darring is still near the ropes, and Dream charges! Darring ducks, launches dream over his head and out the ring, but The Drea skins the cat and tags Darring with a nusty rope-hung enzuigii that rings the legend’s bell HARD!
“OOF!! Nasty shot there to the back of the neck there!” The Mark winced as Quinn nodded.
“Sean Darring suffered a rather severe blow there in 2020 that very nearly shortened his career. I’d say Mr. Dream has done his homework.”
Not done yet, Daniel slinghots himself between the top and middle rope, turning his momentum into another rolling kip-up before scoring with a beautiful and brutal superkick right on the button!
“And another shot to the head by Daniel Dream!” Quinn called.
As his opponent drops like a sack of potatoes, Daniel Dream takes time to pose for the crowd as he gets a few cheers for his athletic ability while others are a bit more hesitant, clearly put off by his disrespectful attit-
SCHOOL BOY PIN!! DARRING CAUGHT DREAM WHILE HE HAD HIS BACK TURNED!!
ONE!!
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DREAM GRAPEVINES DARRING’S ARM TO TURN THE PIN INTO A LEBEL LOCK!!
Darring is one step ahead of him however, raising his hips off the mat to prevent full execution, he moves his weight into Dream and manages to get Dream flat on the mat with the Legend over him in a mount! Daring grabs Dream’s wrist, looking for an armbar from this position, but Dream is savvy enough to clasp his hands, preventing the extension and roll into Darring to pin him with a bridging jackknife pin!
ONE!!
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KICKOUT!!
Both men kip up to their feet! Dream nails Darring with a dropkick! Kips up again, whips Darring into the ropes, tries to trip Darring with a drop down, but the legend leaps over, hits the ropes on the other side, Dream evades a clothesline with a leapfrog, both hit the ropes…
BEAUTIFUL DROPKICK FROM DANIEL ON COLLISION!
That was smooth and silk and Dream knows it, blowing kisses to the fans as Darring moves to the corner to recuperate, but now the cheers from the fans have been growing less frequent, more boos as Daniel Dream’s smugness is beginning to test their patience.
“What an exchange by both men! Some beautiful wrestling on display there!” Quinn applauds on commentary.
“Yeah, but the fans are getting mighty sick of Dream’s attitude and so am I.” Mark growls
Still smiling smugly, but with a manic glint to it, Dream swaggers over to where Darring is slumped in the corner and presses his heel against the legend’s throat, choking hi in the corner as his smile turns to a sneer, and then a snarl!
The fans are most certainly booing now as the ref orders Dream away from his opponent with Dream offering a placating shrug to the official before pulling the legend to his feet, ruffling the veteran’s hair, and then VIOLENTLY SLAPPING DARRING IN THE MOUTH!!
“Complete disrespect shown to the Legend!” Mark calls.
“It’s been shown from the start.” Allie noted, speaking up for the first time in a while. “Toying with his opponent, spending more time playing to the crowd, I think Daniel Dream expecte an easy win here tonight against a man past his prime. He’s getting annoyed with his opponent, and himSELF that Darring is actually matching him.”
MUCH louder boos this time. It’s safe to say that whatever benefit of the doubt Deam may have earned, it has QUICKLY been used up as Dream slaps the legend AGAIN, waving to the fans with each slap as if either oblivious to or mocking the crowd.
A third sla-CAUGHT BY SEAN DARRING!
Monkey Flip throws Daniel Dream overhead, Darring maintains hold of the wrists and rolls himself into a mount over Dream before raiing down four forearms! One! For! Each! Slap!
ARMBAR FROM DARRING!! THIS TIME DREAM IS TOO DISORIENTED TO BLOCK!!
Its only Dream’s proximity to the ropes and height that save him as he JUST manages to get a foot under the ropes to save himself a millisecond before hyperextension. The ref calls for a break and Sean Darring obeys, not wanting to sink to his opponent’s level as Daniel Dream uses this moment to retreat out the ring. Clearly favouring his shoulder as Darring calmly stands and raises his arm to a DEFINITE pop from the crowd without once breaking eye-contact with his opponent.
For a second. There is a satisfied smirk on the face of the legend.
“YOU STILL GOT IT!” *clap-clap clap-clap-clap!* “YOU STILL GOT IT!” *clap-clap clap-clap-clap!* “YOU STILL GOT IT!” *clap-clap clap-clap-clap!*
“Sean Darring clearly doing a much better job of maintaining his composure, credit to his years of experience.” Quinn noted “And of course, already with a target found on Daniel Dream’s arm.”
“They look about equal in terms of wrestling skill, and Daniel is definitely the more athletic” Allie said “That mental focus is going to be a big asset for Sean Darring in this match.”
Daniel re-enters the match, but is looking a LOT less over confident now, even flinching back for a brief second at a lock up as it sends a brief jolt through his now sensitive am to the amusement of his opponent. Growling, Dream lunges forward, and they lock up!
“Here we go!” The Mark calls
Dream manages to get a headlock on Darring, but Darring counters it into a wristlock on Dream, the lucha trained Dream uses a handspring to twist out of the wristlock and grab Darring’s wrist for a wrist lock of his own, only for Darring to reverse the grip and take control back! Darring now takes Dream to the mat with a side headlock takeover, but Dream gets a headscissors lock on Darring! The veteran struggles in the hold, but Dream has it on tight, forcing Darring to get a ropebreak to escape the hold.
Except Dream refuses to release! The referee starts counting! One.. Two… Three… Dream releases on four to avoid being disqualified.
Getting up, he pulls darring to his feet and whips his opponent into the ropes! Backbody dro-
No! Darring drops to his knees in front of Dream, going for a uppercu-
Dream caught him in a small package!
“Counter for a counter! This is like a human chess game!” Quinn calls
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DARRING REVERSES IT INTO A SMALL PACKAGE OF HIS OWN!!
“And a counter by the Legend!” Mark calls.
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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KICKOUT!!
They’re both up! Suplex attempt by Dream! Daring blocks it! Suplex attempt by Darring! Dream floats over behind the legend! Backslide Pin!
ONE!!
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TW-!!
Darring escapes, catching Dream in a sunset flip pin!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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Dream escapes! Rolling senton cover!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DARRING BRIDGES UP OUT OF IT! CRUCIFIX PIN BY THE LEGEND!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DREAM ESCAPES! LA MAGISTRAL CRADLE BY DANIEL DREAM!!
“LA MAGISTRAL!! DREAM USING HIS LUCHA LIBRE EXPERIENCE!!” Allie calls
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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THR-!!
DARRING IS OUT!!
“WHAT AN EXCHANGE!!” Quinn cheers as the crowd gives a standing ovation. “What a display of wre-”
Both men up, and-DREAM PUNCHES DARRING SQUARE IN THE MOUTH!!
“AN ILLEGAL CLOSED FIST!!” The Mark yells.
“Like I said, he’s getting frustrated. He thought Darring would be an easy opponent.” Allie said.
“Cry him a river! He’s still a cheat!”
The ref immediately warns Dream about that illegal use of a closed fist as Sean Darring drops to a knee, but Dream hits the ropes cooking in for a running knee to the back of Sean Darring’s head! A location Alex Reyn had ruthlessly targeted just two years ago!
Darring ducks! Shot misses! O-Connor Roll from the legend!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DREAM JUST ROLLED UP DARRING!!
ONE-!!
DARRING ROLLS UP DREAM!!
ONE-!!
DREAM ROLLS UP DARRING!!
ONE-!!
“THIS IS INSANE!” Mark cheers
DARRING ROLLS UP DREAM!!
ONE-!!
DREAM ROLLS UP-!
The two of them hit the outside mats with a thud as their struggle for control takes them under the bottom rope and out the ring. Separating now, a furious Dream charges into his opponent! Going wild with unches as the veteran fights back! It’s an old fashioned hockey fight at ringside as the fans cheer on the Legend, and the ref starts counting!
“Both men going at it right in front of the fans!!” The Mark cheers
ONE!!
Daring grabs Dream’s wrist! Irish whi-
No, Dream plants his feet, reverses momentum to whip Darring into the barricade! Dream charges in- Caught by a boot from Darring!
TWO!!
Dream stumbles back from that boot to his face, Sean Darring dies in for a chop lock, but Dream LEAPFROGS BACKWARDS OVER DARRING!!
“Holy God, that athleticism!” Even The MArk is impressed by Dream
THREE!!
Now Dream is behind Sean Darring. He dive in, looks like he’s going for a Chopblock of his own except…
FOUR!!
LOW BLOW!! LOW BLOW FROM DANIEL DREAM!!
FIVE!!
And with the ring apron blocking the referee’s view, it looked like it had just been a normal chopblock!
“Oh come ON!! Is the ref blind!?” Mark yells
SIX!!
Sensing victory, Dream grabs Darring and rams him headfirst into the steel ring steps! Knocking them out of place on impact!
SEVEN!!
Darring is out on the floor and Dream calls dives in the ring! Could he win by ring out??!!
“Not like this! Not like this!” The Mark is furious.
EIGHT!!
“I agree with my partner.” Quinn says, “Both wrestlers are far too skilled to see the match end on something like this!”
Darring is stumbling to his feet, having to use the ringsteps and Apron to keep himself upright, he’s clearly disoriented, but his veteran instincts are kicking in!
NINE!!
Does he have time to shake off the cobwebs before the ten count??
TE-
JUST MADE IT I- SLIDING KNEE FROM DANIEL DREAM!!
“Dream taking advantage!” Quinn calls. “He picked his moment perfectly!!”
The crowd boos as Dream had been lying in wait in case Sean Daring actually made it back in time, and the Legend, still reeling from the last two hits, had been completely blindsided by this latest attack.
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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THRE-
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JUST KICKS OUT!!
There’s a yell of frustration from Daniel Dream! Frustration and disbelief that that wasn’t enough as he starts hammering away on his grounded opponent with wild punches!
THAT, unfortunately for the Dream, kicks the veteran’s fight or flight and a decade of combat instincts into high gear!
TRIANGLE CHOKE ARMBAR!! TRIANGLE CHOKE ARMBAR ON DANIEL DREAM!!
“Dream losing his cool and Darring takes advantage!” Allie called.
Dream thrashes wildly in the hold!! A look of sudden panic on his face! The legend has it looked on good, arm is being hyyperextende…
Wait, what’s this… Dream is standing up, he’s managing to DEADLIFT SEAN DARRING OFF THE MAT!!
“THE POWER OF DANIEL DREAM!!” Mark on commentary
CARNIVORE’S LAST HUNT (Elevated Sit-out Powerbomb) WITH ONE HAND!!
COVERS HIM!!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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THREE???
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DARRING GETS HIS HAND UNDER THE BOTTOM ROPE JUST IN TIME!!
“Was it Sean’s resilience that saved him, or right place, right time?” Quinn asked.
Dream falls back on the mat, head in his hands. Both he and Darring are breathing heavily and as they roll away from each other and begin slowly pulling themselves to their feet, onlookers can see that they’re each favouring their arm and neck, respectively.
Dream has managed to make it to his feet first and violently stomps down on the back of a kneeling Sean’s neck! Grinding the heel of his boot into his opponent until the referee pulls him away! Dream Isn’t done though as he pushes past the referee to knock the wind out of Darring’s lungs with a vindictive soccer kick to the ribs.
“He wants to punish Sean.” Allie said, “He’s angry that Sean is ruining what could have been a perfect debut in his eyes.”
“What, turn up, squash the old man in five seconds, off to the bar for drinks?”
“More or less.”
Now he picks Darring up, going for a second attempt at Carnivore’s Last Hunt, but Darring grabs a hold of Dream’s ankles to prevent being lifted! An irate Dream starts hammering his fists down on Darring’s back, trying to break his grip, and manages to get Darring to let go for a second…
SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB BY DREAM!
“You may not like his attitude, but that was GENIUS wrestling!” Quinn said “Both the sunset flip powerbomb and the regular type have a similar beginnin but throw the opponent in a completely different direction! It’s a brilliant misdirect!”
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DARRING KICKS OUT!!
Dream can taste victory as he stands above Darring, calling for the Uncle Slam (Angle Slam)!
UNCLE SLA-!
No! Darring gets a hold of the bad arm and counters with an arm drag! He maintains wrist control as Daniel gets back to his feet! Arm wringer into an armbreaker across the shou-
Wait! Dream just pulled Darring into a sleeper hold! Centre of the ring! Darring is struggling, reaching back!
“Darring working on the arm, but Dream again attacks the hea-” Quinn can barely keep up with the action
Snapmare from the legend! Hammerlock on Dream! Darring goes to ram Dream’s shoulder into the turnbuckle, but Dream runs UP the turn buckles to land behind Dream with a backfli- Wait, Dream might have tweaked his knee upon landing, he stumbles for a sec- VICTORY ROLL BY SEAN DARRING!!
“Dream’s had a bad knee for some years.” Allie explained “Looks like it gave him some trouble there.”
“I don’t think Sean Darring saw that though.” Quin commented. “That Victory Roll was an almost instinctual counter to an opponent attacking him from behind. Veteran ring savvy right there.”
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DREAM ROLLS IT BACK INTO A VICTORY ROLL OF HIS OWN!!
Before the cover could start though, Dream instead grabbed Daring’s leg, turning th pin into the PATRIOT LOCK (Ankle Lock)!!
Wait! Darring rolls into Dream, grabs Dream’s ankle…
And turns it into an ankle lock of his own!
Suddenly Darring’s eyes light up! Dream is in position! He releases the hold, and practically dives in to snare Dream in the LEGEND LOCK (Crucifix hold)!!
“Darring staying focused on the arm! Looking for his ultimate submission!” Quinn calls
Wait! Daniel catches Darring! Fireman’s Carry style roll into a pin!
“Beautiful counter!” Quinn shouts
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DARRING ROLLS IT INTO A CRUCIFIX PIN!!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DREAM KICKS OUT!!
Dream is up first! Sliding knee strike! Hooks the leg!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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ANOTHER KICKOUT!!
Dream grits his teeth, applying a gutwrench, again looking for Carnivore’s Last Hunt but Darring manages to break his grip, maneuvering behind Dream for a hammerlock before chaining that into a facelock, then hooking both arms for a double underhook!
Tiger Driv- No! Dream with a huracanrana!
That move created some distance… RUNNING HIGH KNEE!!
Gutwrench applied… CARNIVORE’S LAST HUNT!!
“HE GOT IT THAT TIME!!” Mark cries
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DARRING KICKS OUT!!
“NO ROPE BREAKS THERE!! THAT IS PURE, UNDENIABLE TOUGHNESS FROM THE LEGEND!!” Mar cheers
Giving a sigh and groan of frustration, Dream falls back and rolls away. As Darring lies winded on the mat, Dream takes the time to massage his shoulder and check his leg. So far, nothing seems seriously damaged, still a good bit of mobility in his arm, ad he can put weight on the leg easy enough. Fortunately Sean hadn’t seen that little stumble earlier, but it might be time to put this away.
Grabbing Darring from behind, Dream takes hold of his wrist, looking for the ripcord variant of “American Revolution” (High Impact Elbow Strike), but realising his opponent’s intentions, Darring backpedals to ram Dream back first into the corner! That causes separation and Darring whips Dream to the opposite corner, only for the athletic Dream to spring onto th top rope and- CROTCH HIMSELF AS DARRING FALLS ONTO THE ROPES CAUSING DREAM TO LOSE BALANCE!!
Dream is dangling helplessly upside down in the “Tree of Woe” position now, legs tangled in the top rope and both Sean Darring and the fans cannot help but enjoy his humiliation.
“The fans are loving this and so am I!” Mark cheers
Running Dropkick to a dangling Dream! Injury added to insult! He’s got Deam’s wrist, dragging him to the centre of the ring, calling for Legend Lock!
Wait a minute! Dream just surprised him with a small package!!
“Don’t count Dream out!” Quinn calls
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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KICKOUT!!
Dream straddles Darring’s back now, attempting the John Locke (Full Nelson Camel Clutch) but Darring slips out behind. He tries another Hammerlock on Dream, but Daniel counters and gets behind his opponent! AMERICAN REVOLUTI-NO! Sean Darring counters with an improvised arm-trap reverse STO to jam Dream’s elbow into the mat!
“Brilliant innovation from the Legend!!” Quinn cheers
The crowd pops and it look like Sean may have this! Fujiwara armbar!
Dream is in agony now! He’s struggling, crawling, trying to claw his way to the ropes, reaching out, can he get it…??
Ropebreak!
“Credit where it’s due, Dream has some toughness of his own.” Mark admitted.
Just in time too as Daring is forced to release the hold. The legend isn’t about to relinquish control that easily though as he pulls Darring to his feet, ready to shoot him off the ro- ENZUIGIRI BY DREAM!!!
“ENUIGIRI!! HE TOOK US ALL BY SURPRISE THERE!!” Quinn called
That kick caught the legend completely by surprise and square on the back of his neck!! The legend drops to the mat! Dream falls onto him for a cover!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DARRING KICKS OUT!!
Dream takes a second to nurse the pain in his arm and reconsider his next approach. Darring is still lying on the mat and Dream gets an idea. Rolling INTO Darring, he hooks his armm and leg s that when Dream rolls to his feet, he brings Darring up off the mat WITH him in the fireman’s carry position! Getting his opponent off the mat while minimising the weight n his own elbow!
“What a BRILLIANT use of leverage by Daniel Dream!” Quinn called
He adjusts Darring’s position, UNCLE SLAM!!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DARRING KICKS OUT AGAIN!!
A grit of the teeth by Daniel Dream. What the hell does it take to put down this old fart??
He’s standing behind Darring, beckoning, calling for the man to stand up!
AMERICAN REVOLuTION USING HIS NON-DOMINANT HAND!!
Unfortunately, not being used to throwing the elbow with that arm allowed Darring to duck and get behind Dream!
BACK SUPLEX ARMBAR!!
This is it! There’s no way Dream can survive another attack on his…
Hold up…
DARRING HAD GRABBED THE WRONG ARM!!
YEARS of wrestling instincts and muscle memory had lead the veteran to instinctively grab the arm that had thrown the attack, but Dream had switched to using his OTHER arm in order to protect the targeted limb like a lizard dropping its tail and Darring had caught the bait! The reduced pain allows Dream to quickly clasp his wrists to block the extension! Standing over dream, he stomps down on the legend with hard kicks to try and force Darring to let go, but the old man is like a pitbull until…
DREAM JUST SCRAPED HIS BOOT ACROSS THE LEGEND’S EYES!!
Separation, and Dream is behind Darring, Poison ‘Rana-DARRING SPINS HIM INTO A POWERBOMB!!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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THR-!!
JUST KICKED OUT!!
Darring is back in control though! He grabs the bad arm! Trying to turn Dream over for the Legend Lock, but Dream recovers enough to fight back with his long legs and get some separation!
Kip-up then a high knee from Daniel Dream! Jumping Complete Shot!!
“More blows to the head!” Mark shouts
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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DARRING KICKS OUT!!
The veteran is forcing Daniel to dig DEEP into his arsenal as he climbs up top, looking for Head of State (Diving Headbutt), but Darring has years of experience and rolls as far out of Dream’s range as possible, avoiding the attack while staying out of Dream’s range.
Dream is still on the top as Darring takes a second to recover.
Then he charges at Dream! Leaping onto the top rope with him! Perhaps looking for an avalanche belly to belly, but the quicker Dream has already dropped down before springing onto the ropes and then Darring’s shoulders for an AVALANCHE POISON ‘RANA!!
“OH GOD NO!!” Mar is almost out of his seat in horror
No! Electric Chair Facebuster off the middle rope to Drop Dream on the top turnbuckle!!
Dream gets his hands up to block the impact! Dragon Suplex attempt by the legend! Dream breaks the hold, switch behind!
Full Nelson Facebuster into the buckle! Darring is stunned!
POISON ‘RANA SPIKES THE LEGEND RIGHT ON HIS HEAD!!
“THAT COULD BE IT!! THE BACK OF DARRING’S NECK JUST GOT DRIVEN INTO THE MAT!!”
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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THREE??
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LAST SECOND KICKOUT!!
There is a LOUD applause from the fans as Dream collapses, head in his hands and disbelief on his face. Now more than ever does he truly understand the resilience of Sean Darring.
He has no choice.
Bad arm or no. He HAS to use the American Revolution.
Waist lock applied. Going for the wrist lo-
No! Amazing recovery by Darring as he counters into a hammerlock on Dream! It’s not Dream’s dominant arm though and Dream counters into a waistlock again! Grabs Darring’s wrist a-
DARRING WITH ANOTHER VICTORY ROLL!!
ONE!!
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TWO!!
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BACK INTO A VICTORY ROLL BY DREAM! HE GRABS THE LEG FOR PATRIOT LOCK BUT DARRING PULLS HIM INTO A SIDE HEADLOCK TAKEOVER!!
Headscissors by Dream! He keeps them applied as he stands to force Daarring into powerbomb position! He tries to lift, but his arm can’t take the weight! Backboy Drop by Darr-No!
Dream floats over behind! Waist lock applied! He grabs the wrist for the ripcord American Revolution but Darring grabs the ropes to prevent the rip cord!
“Action too quick to call! Both these men are putting on a clinic!” Quinn calls.
“They both need this!” Allie joins him “Dream to prove he’s the future! Darring to show he’s not over the hill just yet!”
So Dream instead goes for a Roaring Elbow American Revolution to the back of Sean’s head!
Sean ducks!
A BRUTAL CHOP KNOCKS THE WIND OUT OF DREAM’S LUNGS!!
Armdrag by Darring!! Holds the wrist, going for LEGEND LOCK!!
No!! Dream counters! Using the same trick before to roll them both up into the UNCLE SLAM!!
NO!! Darring manages to get off of Dream’s shoulders, but Dream still holds his wrist! He’s behind Darring! Ripcord Elbow??
NO! COBRA CLUTCH BY DREAM!!
“Billion Dollar Dream!” Quinn calls “A Billion Dollar Dream to Sean Darring!!”
“No Quinn.” Allie corrects him “That’s the AMERICAN Dream!”
DARRING IS STRUGGLING, FADING FAST!! HE TRIES TO BREAK OUT, THE TWO OF THEM ARE NEAR THE CORNER BUT DREAM IS NEAR SUFFOCATING HIM!!
“This could be it!” Quinn calls
Wait a minute…
“What’s Sean thinking..?” The MArk leans in as anticipation builds
Sean braces his feet on the buckles, pushes off…
AND FLIPS OVER DREAM TO PIN HIS SHOULDERS TO THE MAT!!
“WHAT A COUNTER!! OLD SCHOOL WRESTLING RIGHT THERE!!” Quinn cheers
ONE!!
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TWO!!.
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DREAM TRIES TO GET HIS SHOULDER UP!!
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BUT AT THE LAST SECOND, DARRING LEANS HIS BODYWEIGHT INTO THE BAD ARM TO PREVENT THE ESCAPE!!
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THREE!!
DING!! DING!! DING!!
Newman’s voice is almost drowned out by the fans!
“HERE IS YOUR WINNER!! SEAN!!! DARRING!!!”
“WHAT A MATCH!!” The Mark cheers “WHAT A BATTLE IN OUR MAIN EVENT!!”
“And what a beautiful use of both weight and leverage from the Legend.” Quinn adds. “Leaning his weight into the bad shoulder to keep Dream from kicking out.”
“A statement win by The Legend on our debut show.” Allie speaks up “But the match could have gone either way. We’ll have to see how Dream responds to this defeat and where Darring takes this momentum!”
“Tune in next time!” Mark calls.