Welcome to Magnum Opus
“Magnum Opus” by Sunlust opens the inaugural GLOBAL Pay-Per-View over the top of a montage of the shows stars.
Hayley ‘The Raven’ charges towards Carnival, her arm outstretched, but the discus lariat is ducked and connects instead with Todd Rich, knocking him out.
A slow motion shot of Hayley’s stunned face turns greyscale before…
Carnival jumps up and hits a jumping cutter.
MASTERPLAN!
Hayley’s head ricochets off Todd Rich’s as she collapses to the canvas.
Carnival covers Hayley.
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Now the Masters Sisters are celebrating, holding the tag team titles aloft and a golden hue covers the montage clip.
“Magnum Opus.” a deep-throated voiceover reads.
Jerry David stands in a comedy club and delivers a punchline. The audience laugh, and laugh, and laugh. A black man in the front row falls out of his seat.
Cut to:
Jerry David is launched through a bass drum.
Standing over him, glaring down, is E Z Rah.
“A work of art…” the voiceover says.
Daniel Dream lays a hard right on the jaw of Alfie Button, folding him up like an accordion.
Pin!
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
“A piece of music…” the voiceover says.
Steve Dann is almost cut in half by the huge SPEAR of Aleczander The Great, his body smashing into the canvas with a heavy thud.
Pin!
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
“A piece of writing…” the voiceover says.
Alf Alferson scratches his nipple and raises a victorious index finger into the air.
“Regarded as the most important work by an artist…” the voiceover says.
Christian Pierson CURB STOMPS Joe Public’s face into the mat.
“The best work of a composer…” the voiceover says.
Valorie Vitality hits a SPINNING BACK KICK to the face of Jed Johnson – his nose explodes and he slumps to the floor.
Pin!
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
“The greatest piece by a writer…” the voiceover says.
Darren Best flails in pain, the submission hold locked in by the ‘Legend’ Sean Darring.
LEGEND LOCK!
Darren’s face reddening, he taps out.
“A piece of literature.” the voiceover says.
Alex Reyn hits a rolling cutter on Son of Malta.
EAST WIND CUTTER!
Pin!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
“Tonight…” the voiceover says.
Sean Darring turns his body, the background is black, golden speckles overlay his slow motion turn towards the camera.
“Three men…” the voiceover says.
Alex Reyn steps forward from the darkness, golden speckles overlay his slow motion step toward the camera.
“Battle it out.” the voiceover says.
Daniel Dream turns his body, the background is black, golden speckles overlay his slow motion turn towards the camera.
“To crown the inaugural GLOBAL World Heavyweight Champion.” the voiceover says.
The GLOBAL word title spins on a plinth, golden coloured jewels fall over it as though it is raining.
“And one man will create his…
“MAGNUM OPUS.”
Prima Materia
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 the first-ever GLOBAL extravaganza, Magnum Opus. Welcome to Hollywood, California and welcome to The Globe, where over two and a half thousand eager, chomping-at-the-bit fans have gathered to see no fewer than TWELVE matches, including a three-way fight, and a fight it’ll be folks, to determine who the inaugural GLOBAL Champion will be.’
There are two tiers, with the top one being covered in some oak wood 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 aisle way and fireworks are set off every couple of seconds to the screams of the capacity crowd.
The squared circle has the GLOBAL logo emblazoned on it with green and blue ropes and purple turnbuckles, and now the camera focuses on three faces.
Lucas Quinn, decked out head to toe in a glorious blue suit, and whose voice you heard earlier, is flanked by The Mark to his right. The Mark has decided to put a white shirt and trousers on, unusual for him, and Allie Reece has decided to doll up, her characteristic pink locks still in tow of course, alongside a sparkling red dress that would wow, even at The Oscars. Fitting, wouldn’t you agree?
Lucas’s smile in itself is befitting of a Colgate commercial as he looks down the barrel before turning to his colleagues. ‘Mark ‘The Mark’ Deltzer and Allie Reece, join me, Lucas Quinn, in a night for the ages. Magnum Opus, which means ‘The Great Work’ in Latin, and we’ll briefly start with the main event. It’s only fitting that I should quote Shakespeare at The Globe: ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’ We have three of wrestling’s finest competitors battling out for the honor of making history, who is who in your opinion, Allie?’
Reece gives Quinn a staggered look. ‘Quoting Shakespeare, huh? What’s the question?’
Allie raises her voice to rise above the screams of the capacity crowd as the fireworks go off inside the arena, and our cameras survey various signs, the GLOBAL Nation is out in force and thrilled to be here.
‘None of them have had greatness thrust upon them, that’s for sure, though some might argue Daniel Dream is the blue-eyed boy of GLOBAL. Darring has achieved greatness and may’ve been born great. Reyn is yet to achieve it, but he will one day, no doubt.’
Quinn brings The Mark in. ‘Mark, your knowledge of wrestling is exceptional, encyclopaedic even. What can we expect from the main event?’
Deltzer cups his ear. ‘Barely heard that Lucas, and you’re not a difficult man to hear, ordinarily. The unexpected, of course. Any of the three men can win it which is what makes it such a special match, not to mention what’s at stake. I cannot wait, but what an evening we’ve got before that.’
Quinn grins. ‘We certainly do. It’s not the only title on the line tonight, of course. The Master Sisters, the first Tag Team champions, defend their crown against the brothers, The Rich Family. The Master Sisters beat three other teams, but on Domination Three, The Rich Family took a disqualification decision over the reigning champions.’
Reece looks down at her notes. ‘August Lazard, Big Aug and the biggest man in the industry, will go to war with Aleczander The Great and the WINNER will become the number one contender to the GLOBAL Championship. Will it just be Aleczander or the entire United Kingdom that Aug fights?’
The Mark continues ‘Speaking of war, a streetfight between ‘Queen’ Bianca Davis and Angel Ramirez could be the match of the night, they’ve gone at it twice already and this is the rubber match. Talk about a contrast in fortunes and style, but they mesh remarkably well in the ring and that should be one for the ages right there, Quinn.’
‘I couldn’t agree more, Mark, and likewise a simmering tension between potential partners, the charismatic and disarming Crusader X finally meets Alfie Button in an explosive and dazzling contest between two of the finest athletes anywhere in the world.’
Allie shakes her head. ‘And if those two matches weren’t personal or physical enough, what will happen when ‘Crypto King’ EZ Rah meets ‘King of Comedy’ Jerry David in a Last Man Standing match, a contender for the most heated rivalry we’ve seen so far in GLOBAL and for Match of The Night in its own right?’
Quinn chuckles. ‘I had to read this one, didn’t I? In a controversial rematch, Amber Lee will meet The Mark’s idol, Kid Chameleon, with a twenty-minute time limit. No controversy tonight, guys.’
The Mark rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll move on. Son of Malta and Alfie’s former partner, Darren Best, both long-term rivals of Alex Reyn, will meet in what could be a technical masterclass, but what is certainly a make-or-break match for both.’
Reece laughs. ‘I suppose this one was meant for me. Yes, I knew it. Valorie Vitality versus Jed Johnson, the most unnecessary rubber match in wrestling history, in a submission match. No excuses for the loser, who will have to quit, won’t they, Jed?’
Reece’s laughter continues as she feels Lucas and The Mark glare at her to the point that she covers her face with the card she has just read.
‘An emotional match for Ross Hanson, whose last ever night in professional wrestling coincides with our first special. The Dirty Birdz, The Metal Militia and er, Tits ‘N’ Ass.’
Allie and The Mark exchange a high-five and shout ‘YES’ at presumably conniving to get the ‘serious’ Quinn to read that out.
‘Honestly, it’s such a shame we’re losing Ross Hanson, but that performance will be something to behold. And, continuing on the theme of tag teams, another rivalry that has escalated is between Health Fanatics and Prime Time Athletes in a constant one-upmanship of who’s physically superior and who can be the biggest dicks, sorry, it had to be said.’ The Mark holds his hands up on that one.
Having now recovered, Reece rounds things off. ‘The unpredictable Christian Pierson faces an uphill task, in more ways than one, when he faces the very predictably dangerous ‘Great Wall.’
Lucas’s smile comes to the fore again. ‘From The Great Wall to The Great Work, from China to the United States, wherever you are, sit back and bust the popcorn out. On behalf of GLOBAL Studios, welcome to Magnum Opus. It’ll be someone’s crowning moment, for sure.’
Rent Has Been Collected
Before Magnum Opus.
We fade into the view of a simple American home in the suburbs. Pristine white walls frame simple rectangle windows that look out onto a neatly kept lawn surrounded by a classic, white-picket fence. From a tree hangs an ol swing, and above, rotted and clearly not used in years, an old treehouse. Relics of a time when children ran and played on this lawn. A physical memory that the owner no longer had any practical use for… but also didn’t have the heart to tear down either.
We see the inside of the house now. We see the afternoon sun shining in on family photos. Smiling children and proud parents. We hear an old grandfather clock ticking gently way.
We see the clock lying on the floor. Face smashed and blood staining the broken glass
We see the shattered remains of a coffee table.
We see a trail of blood, we follow it along the living room floor, and see that it leads to a door that has been smashed in, and a basement down below.
In the darkness below, we hear weak, labored breathing, a bloody hand is illuminated as a phone flashes to life. The numbers 911 are seen.
“help…” Frank Rich weakly groans.
A month has passed.
Rent has been collected.
Twitch Live Stream Watch Party
Somewhere in Beverly Hills, a pinkish-red haired girl presses the button to start a live stream on popular streaming platform Twitch. After a few moments of leaning towards the screen, squinting from behind big, hipsterish granny-style glasses as she tries to ascertain if the feed has indeed started, she turns to the shorter, dark-haired girl by her side.
“I THINK we’re live…”
“Uh…” The second girl leans in towards the screen herself, frowning slightly. “Yeah…yeah, we’re definitely live.”
“Awesome, awesome, awesome.” The redhead leans back in her chair, her voice taking on a somewhat more declarative tone. “What is UP, Americaaaa! You know who this is! It’s ya girls, Teagan Trouble…” She points at herself, then at her partner. “…and Izzy Roxx, TROUBLE ROXX, coming at you live from Beverly Hills! How’s everybody doing today?”
Responses start to come in on the reasonably populated stream chat, which Teagan appraises for a moment.
“Great. Fantastic.” She scans the chat for a few moments, taking in the comments and questions from those in attendance. “Yes, thebackdropking, I DO wear glasses in real life. Just for screens and stuff. Kind’a lame. I totally ROCK these, though, right?” She playfully tugs at one of the wings in her glasses, causing them to move up and down; then, appearing to see a familiar name among the audience, she shouts him out specifically. “Hey, Brandon! Chat, say hi to Brandon. We used to date back in junior year in high school.”
As the chat explodes with messages to the effect of “Hi Brandon”- as well as a few stating what a lucky man he was, and chastising him for letting Teagan get away, it is Izzy’s turn to shout out someone specific she has spotted in the side text panel.
“Hey, Miles!”
She compounds her greeting with a finger gesture indicating a heart. A moment later, a string of heart emojis from user ‘milesaway’ appears in the chat in return, causing Teagan to put a hand on her chest and coo, while Izzy clarifies the situation for the benefit of the remaining viewers. “My boyfriend’s in the chat…”
“A-ny-way…” Teagan grins as she deftly brings the stream back on its rails. “Today, we are gonna be having ourselves a totally rad WATCH PARTY up in here! GLOBAL Wrestling Magnum Opus, bay-bay! Let’s freaking GOOOOO!”
“GLOBAL Wrestling Magnum Opus!” Izzy echoes her partner. “Hecks yeah!”
“Which, by the way, we COULD have been at. Live. For free. Y’know, ’cause we work for them…” Teagan cannot prevent a cocky grin from broaching her features. “Except we don’t really KNOW anyone there yet, so it would probably have been kind’a awks. Y’know?” Izzy nods, as if to corroborate her partner’s statement.. “So we decided to come on here and hang out with you guys instead.”
Another nod from Izzy, as Teagan’s grin makes a return. “We DID manage to get the two people we DO know to come round here and do a collab with us, though. Come on in, guys!”
Here, her eyes flick upwards as two muscular men enter the frame and sit either side of the two girls, each giving the camera an awkward grin-and-wave.
“Chat, everybody say hi to Ant and Ade. Better known as TEAM UNITED, from GLOBAL. They’re really cool dudes. You’re gonna love ’em.” Here, the redhead leans forward, cupping one side of her face as she stage-whispers into the camera. “They have really freakin’ sexy accents…” Then, resuming her more relaxed position, she addresses the two men. “You guys ready for this?”
Both Ade Flowers and Ant Rushton respond affirmatively, causing Teagan’s grin to develop into a full-on smile.
“Good. ‘Cause me and Izzy have BEEN ready! Let’s do this.” She turns back to her screen and taps a few buttons, then addresses her audience again. “Right. Chat…get your Pay-Per-View streams ready, and we’ll tell you when to start playing. Ready?” She looks around once more for confirmation, nods her head briefly, then begins the countdown. “OK, guys…we’re starting in three…two…one…let’s freaking GOOOO!”
A moment later, the sounds – if not the sights – of GLOBAL’s very first Premium Live Event are heard through the speakers, and the Watch Party is officially under way.
The Prince and the Pauper
With less than an hour to go before the start of GLOBAL Magnum Opus, the parking lot and surrounding areas of The Globe are bustling with activity. Roving cameras capture fans hurrying to and fro, with some of said fans even taking the time to mug for the camera or display their homemade signage before resuming their way inside.
One particular camera person, however, happens across something significantly more interesting, which they waste no time latching onto; for, a short distance away (sufficiently removed to be effectively out of the way, but close enough to make himself heard) stands a dishevelled middle aged man, his tatty bomber jacket, jeans and combat boots every bit as greasy as his thin, wispy, scraggly hair, sonorously haranguing whoever is close enough to hear him.
“You think you know what’s up? You know exactly two things about what’s up: Jack and s–t.”
As the camera draws near, the lettering on the man’s shirt, partially hidden by his jacket, becomes somewhat clearer: it appears to read “I AM TRUTH”. Before the cameraperson can zoom all the way in, whoever, the man notices them, and promptly reaches out to pull them in, all while bringing his face disturbingly close to the lens.
“The f–k you think you’re filmin’ over here, boy?” The man’s tone is half-whisper, half-growl, and all urgency. “They send you to spy on me with your little camera? Get some dirt on me?” The cameraman lets out a panicked gasp as the man begins to shake him – and, as a result, also his expensive equipment. “’Cause I know there’s no such thing as the First Amendment up there on Orion, but this ain’t the goddamn Trapezium. This is ‘Murica. And over here, we honor the Constitution!”
“Dude…calm…down..just…filming…fans…” Despite the enforced judderingness of his message, the cameraman does his best to reason with the scraggly man. This is partially successful, in that the man at least releases his grip, but insufficient to dispel his suspicions.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell you what – here’s something to show your little overlords.” The man raises a double middle-finger towards the lens, his voice now a venomous snarl. “You got that, kid?”
Before the cameraman can reply, however, the man’s head snaps sharply to his right (the camera’s left) as his attention is drawn to something else – something, apparently, just as deserving of his vitriol.
“Oh, gimme a goddamn break! We really gonna let that guy walk around in a goddamn mask?”
The camera quickly whirls around, following the man’s gaze, and just as quickly pinpoints the object of his scorn – masked lucha libre legend, and GLOBAL superstar, El Principe. The Masked Wonder himself appears, however, oblivious to the man’s invectives, presumably due to his reluctance to speak, or indeed learn, English, and simply continues on his hurried way to the stage door. This does not, however, deter the man, who continues to cry out for attention.
“Seriously, anybody gonna do ANYTHING about that guy?! Motherf—er could be a goddamn terrorist or something!”
Seeing his ranting is still being ignored, the man then takes off at a brisk pace – for his physical condition, anyway – calling out as he goes.
“Hey! You! Asshole in a mask! Hey! HEY!”
Here, he finally catches up to Principe, clasping one hand around his shoulder; startled, the superstar whirls around quickly, swatting the man’s hand away as he gets in his face.
“Qué haces, pendejo?”
Perhaps surprisingly, however, this does not intimidate the man or in any way cause him to change his behavior – much to the contrary, as he appears to double down on scorn.
“Oh…he’s not just a terrorist…he’s a WETBACK as well! Ain’t that just f—in’ rich!” He looks slightly up at Principe, an unpleasant smirk dancing on his features as he juts out his arm, finger outstretched. “Border’s THAT way, amigo. Go ahead and get your ass back over it.”
“Qué dices?” Despite his confusion, Principe’s tone is openly hostile.
“Sorry, bub…’no habla‘ illegal. Take it up with the feds at the border.”
Principe opens his mouth as if to speak again, then notices the GLOBAL lanyard around his interloper’s neck, identifying him as a fellow roster member. At that moment, the gloves are off – quite literally, as Principe angrily stuffs them in his pocket before grabbing the greasy man by the lapels of his jacket.
“Vamos a hablar en el ring, pinche pendejo!”
The man, predictably, does not reply, instead simply setting himself free from his opponent’s grasp – a task which Principe makes easier by dismissively pushing him away – and smoothening down his jacket irritably.
“Hands OFF the leather, compadre! This s–t is vintage! And I already told you…” The man overenunciates his next few words, in purposeful mockery. “Noooooo….hab-laaaaah….i-lle-galllll…! Comprende, asshole?”
“He wants you in the ring, dude.” The cameraman’s helpful interpreting job only earns him the man’s sarcasm, along with a glare.
“Who’s asking you, kid?”
“Whoa…dude…OK…sorry for existing…”
“You should be.” There is not a hint of irony in that statement – or, indeed, the following one, directed at Principe. “You want me in the ring, dipshit? Well, guess what – I ain’t booked to compete tonight, and I know my goddamn rights. You can’t make me go out there. It’s a goddamn breach of contract. My lawyer would come down on your ass – and you don’t want THAT, do you, you goddamn green-card dodger?” He smirks again, still as unpleasantly as before. “So…guess what…you’re s–t outta luck there, pal. Sucks to be you.” Then, he turns to the cameramen. “Make yourself useful and tell him what I said.”
The cameraman promptly does, in fluent Spanish, Principe’s body language indicating he is reflecting on his foe’s words. Then, after a long moment, the lucha superstar utters a dismissive sound, complete with matching handwave.
“Bah! Una próxima vez…” Then, he turns to look at his interloper face to face once more. “Pero tú no te creas que te vas a escapar. Tú eres mío, pinche pendejo de mierda!”
“He said…” The cameraman’s words, however, are met with an equally dismissive gesture from the man, who is already walking away, loudly proclaiming not to care about what his opponent said. The altercation visibly over, the momentarily fortunate cameraman sees himself forced to return to run-of-the-mill B-roll duties – though now with a new spring in his step, derived from the knowledge that he has stumbled across true wrestling-broadcast treasure, and good things could be coming to him as a result of this stroke of luck…
The Numbers Don't Lie
Hours before Domination 5.
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.
They don’t convene very often, and the only occasion to date – Domination One. They’ve had various meetings via Zoom, those who know how to use the app, and there have been board meetings between two and five members at a time, but not with them all to a man sat round a single table.
At the head of that table is the Italian American President, Giovanni Ferrari, who looks every bit the actors he used to represent. With a crisp black 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. Inside, he is terrified, though a cup of coffee being put down in front of him calms him for a moment as he looks up at the suited woman for a moment, affording her a smile. ‘Thanks very much, Alicia.’
Fawkes takes her place behind him, pulling out a pen, presumably to record minutes. Let’s have a roll call, shall we?
Giovanni, as we have established.
To his immediate left, we have another good-looking man and an ally, Jarrod Cruz, born to a Colombian mother and American father, who looks great in a pinstripe blue suit.
On the opposite side, an all-white number, custom made from head to toe, though not as youthful nor handsome as he once was, the 19-time World Champion, Ray Young, wrinkled and wearing the battle scars of too many bloody bouts over a career that has spanned more than three decades.
Next to Ray Young, the oldest man in the room, wearing a hearing aid and forgetful of his age, the 90-year-old Adam Hatt, wearing all black and making Ray laugh with yet another story about ‘the golden age’ in Hollywood, Young delighted to meet someone who has more outrageous stories than he does, particularly about the people featured in them.
While not friends, the spectacled Oliver Smith, the 62-year-old Executive Vice President in a green jacket and blue trousers, and the 66-year-old Stanley Jones, who resembles an old boxer in his white shirt and gray pants, present a united front at the opposite end of the table.
‘Gentlemen, we’ve got a number of points to go over today. First on the list is who will main event Magnus Opus in February. I got you to vote last week, and the two wrestlers that emerged were Daniel Dream and Sean Darring, both very deserving. I wanted four, but those two were so far ahead, and I got a bunch of other names.’ Ferrari concludes, his hands flashing like a maelstrom of dolphins, typifying his ancestors’ nationality right about now.
He chooses to go to his thumbs, not the mattresses, to reel of the next names, ‘In reserve, you gave me Aleczander, Big Aug and Alex Reyn, plus several others names I won’t go into. So, what I have decided is this. Aleczander The Great will meet August Lazar to determine the number one contender to the GLOBAL Championship.’ That way, they finish their rivalry, the fans get a match they really want to see, and we get a worthy number one contender to the crown for Gold Rush, our second special show,” finishes Ferrari.
‘Dream and Darring are in. What’s also in-‘ Ferrari clicks his fingers, and Alicia Fawkes hands him a pile of papers.
Giovanni distributes the sheets like a croupier dealing a hand as they all lean in to pick one up, and there are some visible gasps, particularly from Hatt and Smith, who cannot believe the information they’ve been shown, ‘Yes, guys, we’ve had our reservations about Alex Reyn, and I’m still devastated at what happened to my good friend, Victor, but the numbers don’t lie. When he’s on screen, our numbers go up, along with Dream and Darring, of course. Alex is undefeated, unlucky not to have won a World Championship elsewhere and despite your concerns, it has been made clear to me.’ Ferrari stops, pointing to the ceiling, indicating people ABOVE him at GLOBAL.
‘They want Alex in the main event. He’s money, we’re a business, and one that is a small part of a worldwide empire, so irrespective of your thoughts, Reyn is in the frame to become the GLOBAL Champion.’
Stanley Jones raises his hand.’ Giovanni, this is a disgrace.’
‘I know Stanley, and we agree. So, I asked them if there was a way round this, and I argued that Alex had only technically won one match, which was against Gemini, because VIP was a no-contest, right? They couldn’t say much to that, so tonight, Alex Reyn has to qualify. Ray?’
Young leans forward, ‘Guys, Reyn is one of the most dangerous wrestlers of all time. We’ve got one man on this roster who has pushed him harder than most, and that’s Son of Malta. He has won two matches here, more than Reyn, and he took the match in a heartbeat.’ Ray confirms, clicking his fingers to emphasize how rapidly Son of Malta answered the call.
Giovanni takes the baton back, ‘And, we sweetened the deal by saying Son of Malta would take Reyn’s place if he were to win, so tonight, we’ve got a main event in place. Get through that, and you go to Magnus Opus to mix it with Dream and Darring.’ Giovanni smiles.
‘I’m amazed you’re in such a good mood.’ Cruz says, shaking his head.
Ferrari looks like he’s seen a ghost, and shakes his head, ‘Not now, Jarrod. NEXT on the agenda, after Magnus Opus, we’re going on the road. We’ll be hitting different places here in the US, Britain and maybe even Mexico before coming back to California, but not The Globe, we don’t think.’ Giovanni predicts.
Cruz takes up the mantle. ‘We’ve got so many British wrestlers, the ratings are great over there, and it would be stupid not to. It’s a risk leaving The Globe, but one we’re willing to take, and nobody here has to travel. We’ll keep in touch through Zoom and meet again at the specials. G?’
Ferrari salutes everyone. ‘Great job, guys. Keep up the good work.’
Aleczander The Great Vs. 'Big Aug' August Lazar
“We’ve got our first match on tap for tonight!” Lucas Quinn starts for the intros of tonight’s opening match. “Two of the BIGGEST stars right now in GLOBAL Wrestling and we’re talking size! The self-professed “GLOBAL Hall of Famer” Aleczander The Great! Six-four, two sixty-seven! “Big Aug” August Lazar! SEVEN-FOOT FOUR! THREE-HUNDRED NINETY-NINE POUNDS!”
“We’ve seen these two mow through the competition,” says Mark Deltzer. “From the jump, people have been talking about Aleczander, but when that attention started to possibly go the way of the former NBA player, August Lazar, some say the green-eyed monster called jealousy reared its head!”
“That’s right,” Allie Recce adds. “Aleczander noticed the attention The World’s Biggest Foodie had been garnering. His YouTube show, Big Aug’s Grub Vlog, has done big numbers! His mere presence and friendly demeanor have turned heads! So when Aleczander challenged him to a test of strength, he was bested in arm wrestling and the same was about to happen with Tug of War when Aleczander attacked Big Aug! And it got worse from there, didn’t it, Lucas?”
“It did. Big Aug ran Aleczander out of the ring on DOMINATION 4, but on DOMINATION 5 after a win over Paul Sanders, Aleczander not only challenged Big Aug to this match, but when he came out to the ring to accept, he was blindsided by The Best of British! Nigel Kensington III and Rupert Royston-Fellowes helped Alecz orchestrate an attack!”
“And guys, we got big news just before we went on the air!” Mark chimes in. “By the end of the night, we will have crowned the first-ever GLOBAL’s Champion… but the winner of this match between the two undefeated starts, will become the official #1 Contender for that title!”
“Wow!” Allie exclaims. “As if our opener wasn’t big enough like we’ve been saying… but it just got even BIGGER!”
“That’s enough from us!” Lucas said. “We’ve got a lot of action here at Magnum Opus and tonight, we kick it off with this #1 Contender’s Match! Let’s go to “Downtown” Jason Brown for the introductions!”
The bell sounds as the camera hurries over to “Downtown” Jason Brown looking extra dapper for tonight’s occasion!
“The following is your opening contest of GLOBAL Wrestling’s Magnun Opus and will be a #1 Contender’s Match for the GLOBAL Championship! Introducing first…”
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.
TOWERING through the entrance, the dirty-blonde monster with hair tied back in a bun, wearing a red and black sleeveless bodysuit walks out and raises a finger in the air! He looks out to the cheering crowd with a box in hand. Just like his prior appearances, August Lazar’s best friend and manager, Del Waterstone, records the entrance on his phone while wearing the first bit of August’s GLOBAL merchandise, a red “Chow Time” apron with a pair of cartoon teeth around the logo.
“GLOBAL WRESTLINGS! IT’S CHOW TIME! AND TONIGHT, ALECZANDER, YOU’RE THE MAIN COURSE!” yells Big Aug to the hard camera in front of him.
Unlike past appearances, there’s no Big Aug Snack Box and there’s no handing out snacks to the audience. Tonight, The Boss of the Sauce has his game face on tonight.
“Let ‘em know, Augie, let ‘em know!” Del shouts. “Aleczander’s gonna get this work and we’re gonna get that #1 Contender spot!”
The GLOBAL Nation give August Lazar a nice ovation as he raises a hand to either side of the stage and encourages the crowd to make some noise! Big Aug finally arrives at the ring, he reaches up and grabs the ropes. He pulls himself up onto the ring apron and then steps over the ropes to enter the ring. Once inside, Mr. Spice Guy gets ready as Jason Brown gives him his specialized intro!
“Introducing first… 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…
Big Aug holds a finger up for every nickname given…
“He is Everyone’s Zest Friend… Boss of the Sauce… Mr. Spice Guy… One Giant Tasty Snack… The Man with an Appetite For Life… The Man With The Iron Stomach… and The Largest Athlete in The GLOBE…”
Brown takes an exaggerated breath as Big Aug poses in the ring.
“BIG AUG” AUGUST LAZAR!”
Wrestling’s Largest Foodie raises his hands in the air to cheers from the crowd! Del takes off the “Chow Time” apron and then gives it over to a young kid in attendance to take home! The game face of Big Aug remains as he gets ready to get his hands on the self-proclaimed Hall of Famer. Lazar’s music finally cuts and he gets ready for the arrival of his opponent.
“And his opponent… from right here in Hollywood, California by way of Manchester, England… he weighs in at 264 pounds, and he demands to be referred to as GLOBAL’s First-Ever Hall of Famer…”
The video screen on stage lights up and shows the outside of the venue…
A gaudy golden-hued bus starts to pull out into the parking lot just outside The Globe @ Stage 49 and finally comes to a dead stop. The camera focuses on a big banner just outside the bus in a silver-colored hue.
ALECZ EXPRECZ
The camera pans to a pair of pristine white boots stepping off this awful bus and into the parking lot before quickly walking into one of the entrances of the door…
Big Aug and Del both watch along with the rest of the GLOBAL Nation as a voice not entirely unlike the late Don LaFontaine starts to read an introduction…
THERE ARE MANY FINE WRESTLERS WITHIN THE HALLOWED HALLS OF GLOBAL WRESTLING…
MANY ARE GOOD…
FEW ARE GREAT…
SOME ARE MONSTERS…
SOME ARE DREAMERS…
SOME ARE EVEN LEGENDS…
BUT…
THERE IS ONLY ONE GLOBAL HALL OF FAMER…
AND THAT GIANT WANKER, “BIG AUG” AUGUST LAZAR AIN’T IT!
Big Aug grips the ropes and scowls in the direction of the stage.
“GET OUT HERE, ALECZANDER!” he shouts. “GET OUT HERE AND TAKE ASS-KICKING LIKE MAN!”
But the video continues.
SOME DON’T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH INCURRING THE WRATH OF THE HALL OF FAMER…
“It was one of the worst things I ever suffered in the ring” replies Son of Malta.
The quote was from a very recent show and completely out of context here.
BUT EVERYONE KNOWS THAT HE’S THE RIGHT MAN TO CARRY THIS COMPANY!
“He still looks like a champion and nobody would be surprised if he walks out of Magnum Opus with the win,” Lucas states. Again, completely out of contest.
AND HE IS UNIVERSALLY LOVED BY ALL!
You are everything I love.
You. Are. Doritos. ALECZANDER THE GREAT.
TONIGHT, HE CEMENTS HIS PLACE IN GLOBAL WRESTLING’S HALL OF FAME AND WALKS OUT WITH A BIG, FAT WIN OVER A BIG, FAT BLOODY BASTARD!
HE…
IS…
The video goes dark.
“Hall of Fame” by The Script feat. will.i.am.
The piano intro plays and the crowd is already jeering! On stage, an unnamed pair of blonde female presenters are on stage much like his debut with a bouquet of yellow flowers and a plaque respectively. The music plays as two fountains of golden pyro start to shoot out from either side of the stage…
“ALECZANDER THE GREAT!”
The Gilded Great is rocking his signature wrestling attire. Golden thigh-length trunks and knee pads, pristine white boots and white wrist tape, gold-tinted sunglasses, a golden bandana and about four or five gold chains around his neck. He holds his arms out and steps around in a circle to show off his admittedly fantastic physique! Once he’s finished, the female presenters each take an arm as he walks on down to the ring slowly.
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
With each step, small pops of gold pyro pop off on either side of The Red Carpet as he makes his way into the ring! Once he finally reaches the ring, Aleczander hands off his chains, glasses, flowers and plaque to the two presenters. He slowly walks up the steps and then poses on the ramp. When he turns around…
BIG AUG GRABS HIM BY THE ARM AND BIEL THROWS HIM INTO THE RING!
The crowd is all ecstatic and Big Aug has has more than enough of the BS spectacle that Aleczander has thrown.
“RING BELL!” Big Aug demands. “NOW!”
Referee Duncan Sullivan does as he’s told as the ultra-hot crowd is here to see a fight tonight!
DING DING
The GLOBAL Nation is sounding off in full force behind August Lazar as he picks up The Gilded Great off the mat!
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
He bats Aleczander The Great across his back as he tries to stand with several big clubbing forearm shots, followed by pinning him to a corner to deliver a big knee strike to the gut!
“Oof!” Aleczander sounds out as he crumbles to a knee in the corner.
There’s no more Mr. Nice Guy tonight for Mr. Spice Guy! The Largest Athlete in The GLOBE picks up Aleczander and throws him to the opposite corner. When he lands, Big Aug shows some great speed for a man of his size…
Body avalanche in the corner!
Aleczander gets the air deflated out of him like a several-years-old joke about Patriots footballs, but Big Aug doesn’t let him fall to the mat! Instead, he points back at the other corner and then pitches the self-proclaimed GLOBAL Hall of Famer back the other way…
Corner back elbow to Aleczander!
Del Waterstone continues to film on the outside more clips for Big Aug’s Youtube show (and probably some to capture memories of the guy who beat up Big Aug now getting beat up). The Mancunian Muscle is still floored on his feet, but not quite out just yet. He grabs him by the head and then FLOORS Aleczander with a massive headbutt to the face, knocking him down to the mat!
Aleczander The Great is left seeing stars as he continues to roll around the mat, but August Lazar doesn’t let him get away. He puts not one, but BOTH feet down on the chest of Aleczander as he’s in the ropes!
“MAKE ALL THE NOISE! COME ON!” Aug yells.
The cheers get LOUDER as he encourages an already-hot crowd to continue voicing their support of squashing Aleczander The Great’s innards into his muscular, but treacherous body.
“Come on, Aug, back it off!” Duncan Sullivan shouts.
Big Aug does no such thing, prompting the stern official to start counting.
“Break it off! Now! One! Two! Three! Four!”
The Tasty Giant Snack does as he’s told and backs off, wanting to beat Aleczander fair and square and not get disqualified to lose out on a future title shot in the process.
“Get him, Augie! Get him in the corner and chop him!” Del yells from the outside.
The former NBA player doesn’t smile, but he does drag Aleczander The Great up. The Gilded Great tries to plead.
“No! Mate! Don’t chop me pecs off! Those are my second and third greatest parts!” he shouts.
Big Aug’s response?
THWACK!
A BIG meaty chop slapping meat!
August tries to shake the pain out of his hand while Aleczander hangs onto the ropes for dear life and tries to hobble away from Big Aug. Unfortunately for him, Lazar gives chase and goes after Aleczander in the corner. GLOBAL’s self-professed Hall of Famer is pinned to another corner and he once again tries to plead for the safety of his pecs. When Big Aug isn’t interested in hearing that, he picks up his hand and delivers a HUGE gut punch to the ribs of The Gilded Great!
Aleczander flails out of the corner and falls to a knee again, trying to get some wind back in his body. When he tries to stand, Big Aug comes at him again and palms the back of his head. He lifts his knee up and nails an Andre-style facebreaker knee smash! Aleczander hasn’t been able to get any sort of offense on the giant at all and tries to get out through the ropes…
But August grabs an arm! And now has him up!
“No! No! No! I’m The Hall of Famer!” Aleczander shouts. “I’m supposed to slam YOU!”
He tries to free himself, but Big Aug now shows off his first smile in this match as he holds Aleczander up in the air…
Holds it…
Holds it…
Holds it…
Then finally lets him drop with a huge body slam to the delight of the GLOBAL Nation! The World’s Largest Foodie puts a foot on his chest and then STEPS right over him, making Aleczander cringe in pain! He clutches his chest and rolls around the mat in agony, but still once again tries to get away from The Largest Athlete in The GLOBE.
“Oh, no!” Big Aug shouts.
He palms the back of Aleczander’s head and his pleas once again fall on deaf ears as he gets slammed into the nearest turnbuckle face first! He gets rocked once again.
Big Aug holds up his hand to give the crowd one more big chop to the chest. He has the hand up…
THUMB TO THE EYE!
…but Aleczander has different ideas and gets a desperate thumb up to save himself!
Duncan Sullivan reprimands him for his actions and warns him not to do it again, but Aleczander The Great isn’t hearing any of it! He goes right at the much taller August and throws a pair of big kicks to the left leg of The Boss of the Sauce. When his body lowers from the kicks, Aleczander starts to throw punches in bunches! The blows stumble August when he charges off the ropes and then SLUGS him with a big forearm to the back! He then doubles over Big Aug with a kick and then throws a STIFF European Uppercut! When he has Lazar backed into the ropes, Aleczander throws both arms out wide…
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“Shove it up your arses!” he fires back.
Aleczander rolls his arm and charges at the ropes, perhaps looking for an early Golden Touch axe bomber…
Boot to the gut!
Big Aug checks Aleczander in the gut to stop him and then runs the ropes…
SUNSET MOTHER-LOVING FLIP?!
The crowd GOES NUTS as Big Aug leaps over Aleczander into a Sunset Flip of all moves!
ONE…
TWO…
Aleczander is almost SHOCKED as the crowd can’t believe what they just saw! He gets back up, but Lazar sits up and hits the ropes…
“NOT TODAY!”
He CHECKS Aleczander with a huge running shoulder tackle off the ropes! After Aleczander goes flying, he ducks down for a cover and applies a lateral press!
ONE…
TWO…
Aleczander kicks out and rolls to the floor to loud jeers! The crowd is still floored that the big man busted out a sunset flip of all the things a giant can do, followed by the Not Today shoulder tackle, but Big Aug stands up and stares down Aleczander. He steps over the ropes.
“No, no, no!” Aleczander shouts.
He’s been beaten and tossed around, but manages to try and hobble away from him. That doesn’t stop Augie from going after him still!
The GLOBAL Nation watches as Aleczander rolls back into the ring, but Big Aug not far behind him. When he starts to pull to the rope to get himself back up, but out of nowhere, Aleczander attacks again with a big running shoulder through the ropes! Big Aug gets gut checked by The GLOBAL Hall of Famer as Aleczander takes a breather to try and collect himself after the beatings he has endured so far in this match.
“Get him away! Back him up! Count him out!” The Gilded Great shouts.
The Boss of the Sauce is only momentarily rattled but then pulls the ropes up to get back into the ring, but Aleczander comes in and attacks with a few more clubbing blows of his own! He strikes and strikes and strikes just as Big Aug gets up, but The Man With the Iron Stomach shoves him back into the corner.
Big Aug tries to get back in, but when he sees Aleczander coming off his right side, he swings and CLOBBERS him with a big clothesline! The self-professed GLOBAL Hall of Famer continues to get beaten every which way but loose as he crawls across the mat. Del tells his massive best friend to stay on him and August nods as he pulls Big Aug up, only to deliver another stiff headbutt to the face!
The GLOBAL Nation continue to vocalize their support as he goes down to the mat with Aleczander and grabs his throat. He lifts him off the mat partially, then PLANTS him!
AGAIN!
AGAIN!
AGAIN!
AGAIN!
Completing The Cookie Dunk combo!
Big Aug then stands up and and pumps a fist for the crowd before hitting the ropes to deliver a MASSIVE elbow drop to the chest! He pins his weight onto Aleczander The Great’s chest for the win, revenge and the #1 Contendership all at once!
ONE…
TWO…
NO!
Aleczander’s legs are free and he uses them to kick out of the cover!
The GLOBAL Nation cheers as Big Aug stands to his full height and starts to call for the end of things quickly! He takes the arm of Aleczander and then starts to signal for the back suplex chokeslam called The Food Coma…
But before can fully set it up, Aleczander gets an elbow up and catches Lazar in the face! The big man gets stunned by the shot when The Gilded Great runs behind Big Aug! He swings and misses with a clothesline…
CHOP BLOCK TO THE KNEE!
The big running shoulder to the knee of August Lazar has the giant stumbling! He falls to a knee and hobbles his way to the corner!
Aleczander grabs his shoulder and he’s still suffering from the damage done by Big Aug throughout the match so far, but the crowd jeers when he quickly dips to a corner while he watches The Boss of the Sauce trying to hobble to the other corner…
RUNNING SHOULDER TO THE KNEE!
Once more, Aleczander finally gets the chance to take a literal leg out from under Augie! He goes on the attack in the corner and delivers a few well-placed kicks to the knee, but August blocks one and then smacks Aleczander with another big chop to the chest, sending him staggering backwards in the corner.
“NOW YOU’RE GOING UP, MATE!” The Mancunian Muscle screams.
The crowd jeers him with Big Aug starting to hobble! He grabs Big Aug by the arm and head and The GLOBAL Nation starts to buzz loudly as he looks for a suplex on the big man. He tries to hoist up Big Aug with all his might…
But The Man With the Iron Stomach plants his weight firmly down to keep him from going over.
Then he delivers another side elbow to the jaw of Aleczander!
With Aleczander stunned, Big Aug points at the ropes and charges off of them to look for another big move…
…
…THE AIRPORT TEST!
The GLOBAL Nation collectively jump up in SHOCK! Aleczander catches Big Aug coming off the ropes and delivers a SPINE-RATTLING Thrust Spinebuster! Aleczander collapses to the mat after successfully pulling off the Herculean task of taking August Lazar off his feet in a GLOBAL Wrestling ring for the very first time!
“I DID THAT, YOU FUCKING WANKER!” He shouts. “HALL OF FAME STRENGTH!”
And he finally crawls over to go for the win as the GLOBAL Nation look on, still caught up in disbelief as Big Aug’s back is on the mat for the first time ever!
ONE…
TWO…
KICKOUT!
A LOUD cheer resonates through The GLOBE as Big Aug powers Aleczander off of him just after the two-count!
“Three! That was a three!” Aleczander shouts.
Duncan Sullivan comes back with two fingers, causing Aleczander to punch the mat in frustration. Del looks worried at ringside and stops the filming on his phone immediately after his client and best friend has been taken off his feet. Aleczander looks out at him and then quickly goes for the left leg that he chop blocked some time ago. He grabs the leg and starts to kick away at the hamstring!
Big Aug finds himself truly in a vulnerable spot for the first time in his GLOBAL Wrestling tenure! He tries to reach up to stop the self-proclaimed GLOBAL Hall of Famer from working over the leg, but Aleczander continues to deliver kicks to the leg!
“YOU AREN’T THE STRONGEST, YOU GIANT TOSSER! I AM! ME!”
He then drops a big elbow down on the leg of Lazar!
The GLOBAL Nation continue to jeer as Aleczander laughs to hismelf. He gets up again and picks off the leg with another elbow drop then does his best DJ Khaled impression…
Another one!
Another one!
Another one!
Aleczander stands up after the fifth consecutive elbow drop to the legs and he gets loud jeering from the crowd as he stands up. He goes to shout at them, but The Boss of the Sauce starts to kick him away with the other leg!
The Mancunian Muscle goes back a few steps, but when Big Aug turns to get back into his stomach to push up, Aleczander is already on the attack again and hits another jumping elbow drop on the left leg! Big Auug is left howling in pain as Alezander gets up to his knees and takes the time to gloat now that he has the big man on his back for the first time.
“WHO’S TALLER NOW, DICKHEAD?” Aleczander crows.
The GLOBAL Hall of Famer gets up as Big Aug tries to hobble up, but he gets stopped when Aleczander hits the ropes and then dives at him like a huge missile with a sliding shoulder tackle! He once again puts Mr. Spice Guy on his back and then hurriedly goes right into a lateral press!
ONE…
TWO…
SHOULDER UP!
The Largest Athlete in The GLOBE has the fans rallying around him as he throws a big arm off the mat! That’s when Aleczander goes right back to the leg! He hits another elbow drop on the large tree trunk posing as a human leg and then applies a tight leg lock!
“Tap out, idiot! Tap, tap, tap!” Aleczander screams. “Ask him, Duncan Hines, ask him!”
He cranks back on the knee by interlocking it with his own legs and then uses a free arm to fire more clubbing blows and elbows to the knee joint!
“Do you give?” Duncan Sullivan asks Big Aug.
“NO!” He shouts back.
Aleczander responds in kind by unlocking the hold briefly, dropping another elbow into the joint and then resumes the leg lock! The Man With the Iron Stomach lets himself fall to his back with both shoulders the mat!
ONE…
The shoulder comes up with Big Aug trying to be careful to keep an arm up! The GLOBAL Nation continue to watch the punishment unfold before him as Del Waterstone starts slapping the ring apron rhythmically, getting the crowd to clap.
“LET’S GO, BIG AUG!” Clap x5 “LET’S GO, BIG AUG!” Clap x5 “LET’S GO, BIG AUG!” Clap x5
“CLOSE YOUR WORDHOLES, ARESHOLES!” screams Aleczander.
The cheering has Big Aug getting back into things as he tries to use his long reach to grab Aleczander! He has The Gilded Great by his neck, forcing Aleczander to torque harder on the leg lock! August tries to fight through the pain and shifts his body weight…
Then uses the other leg to hit Aleczander in the face to break the hold! Again! Again! Again!
Aleczander is forced to let go of the hold and looks disoriented as August tries to roll away and create space – something he’s not used to having to do in a wrestling ring very often, if at all. The Gilded Great is checking his nose and mouth after having a massive leg dropped on it several times in succession before he pulls himself up. He’s a hair quicker to get to his feet than Big Aug.
He screams as he charges right at The Largest Athlete in The GLOBE…
SIDEWALK SLAM!
The ring shakes when he drops Aleczander flat on his back and then goes for a cover!
ONE…
TWO…
NO!
Aleczander with the kickout!
“Stay on him! Stay on him!” Del yells to his best friend.
Big Aug gingerly gets back up and then the former NBA player raises a mighty hand to the sky to let the GLOBAL Nation know what’s next! He waits and stomps his good leg to the mat, getting the crowd behind him…
Aleczander stumbles up and turns…
GOOZLED!
He grabs him by the throat and lifts him up, but Aleczander SLAMS a big elbow in mid-move to the side of Big Aug’s head, making him release his grip on the chokeslam attempt! Everyone’s Zest Friend stumbles back when Aleczander picks the leg yet again with a chop block from behind! August falls forward to his knee when Aleczander gets up and slowly peels off an elbow pad. He throws into the crowd and then charges off one set of the ropes as Big Aug is on his knee…
Then the other…
GOLDEN TOUCH!
With a MIGHTY axe bomber, he chops the giant down square in the middle of the ring, sending a big spritz of sweat flying everywhere! The GLOBAL Nation can’t believe it as he crawls over and shakes his right arm after the impact!
“GOT YOU! THIS TITLE SHOT IS MINE!”
He jumps on top of Aleczander and then tries to hook the bad leg!
ONE…
TWO…
THR… KICKOUT WITH AUTHORITAH!
The Boss of the Sauce shoves Big Aug right off of him and sits up off the mat, forcing Aleczander to go wide-eyed. He looks up at Duncan, and then back to August Lazar, sitting up and annoyed with the fact that he hasn’t been able to put away the giant just yet after having him on the ropes for so long. He sits up just as Big Aug is starting to get back to his feet and then pulls on the ropes frantically, waiting for the chance to strike. He grits his teeth.
“GET UP! GET UP! NOW!” Aleczander screams with a stomp of the feet.
Like him or hate him, The GLOBAL Nation knows what’s coming next as he waits for the chance to strike with his running spear called The Hall of Fame Induction!
When Big Aug finally picks himself up…
Aleczander charges…
CROSSBODY BY BIG AUG!
The self-proclaimed GLOBAL Hall of Famer gets ran right the hell over from a massive man flying at him as a counter to the Spear! The GLOBAL Nation roar loudly as Big Aug rolls right over him and hits the mat with his knee still giving him some trouble. On the other side of the ring, Aleczander is flattened and looking up at the ceiling lights!
Aug is down!
Aleczander The Great is down!
Duncan Sullivan checks on both men after a replay shows the massive Big Aug pulling out a couple of big moves in this match to try and wrestle his way into the #1 Contendership spot!
Back in real time, Big Aug slowly starts to stand up with the aid of the ropes and tries to shake some feeling back into his knee. On the other side, a sweat-dripped Aleczander The Great has been battered by this monster, but still wants the #1 Contendership for himself! Lazar scans the crowd…
“RRRRRRAAAAAHHHHH!”
Del helps get the crowd behind his best friend when he resumes slapping his hands on the apron. Big Aug gets ready to strike as Aleczander tries to get up off the mat!
He charges right through Aleczander with a big running clothesline and knocks The Mancunian Muscle off his feet!
Aleczander stumbles back up and gets clobbered by a second from the big man!
Big Aug gets ready to close the proverbial deal as he grabs Aleczander and then whips him as hard as he can at the nearest corner with a big hammer throw! Aleczander hits the corner and the whiplash has him staggering forward into a MASSIVE Back Body Drop that sends the self-professed GLOBAL Hall of Famer high up into the lights before he comes crashing down with a huge thud!
The leg still seems to be giving August Lazar some trouble, but he tries to shut out the pain with a shot at the soon-to-be-established GLOBAL Championship in tow!
When Aleczander gets back to his feet, he grabs The Manc Miracle and hoists him up over the shoulders and then drops him face-first on the turnbuckle high in the air with a huge snake eyes… then a short-burst big boot off the nearby ropes…
THE FOOD CHAIN!
Aleczander is down when he gets his neck locked up by Big Aug. He picks him up to the mat…
HEARTBURN!
Big Aug STRIKES him down with a big clubbing forearm right to the heart, knocking him back to the canvas! Big Aug has him down where he wants him!
He goes to cover Aleczander and has the future title match in his sights!
ONE…
TWO…
…
BIG AUG GETS UP?
The GLOBAL Nation start to JEER when Big Aug breaks off his own cover because Del is shoved down at ringside…
BY RUPERT ROYSTON-FELLOWES!
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The member of The Best of British stands over Del and grabs his phone before throwing it down and breaking it against the steel steps! They keep booing as he stands over Del…
Until The Boss of the Sauce reaches out and grabs him by the head! He pulls the Brit into the ring and HURLS him into the ring! Rupert tries to stagger to his feet and then gets WALLOPED with a big Heartburn as well!
With a clear path for Big Aug to end this, he grabs Aleczander by the neck and pulls him away from the ropes…
Until Nigel Kensington III shows up on the apron! Big Aug charges and knocks him off the apron as well… and when he picks up Aleczander…
He grabs him for the Food Coma with the back suplex…
But Aleczander DRILLS him with a huge series of right hands that seem to be doing some damage to Big Aug!
He looks stunned on his feet!
The camera doesn’t catch whatever Aleczander might have just put into the waistband of his trunks, but while Lazar is stunned, the self-proclaimed GLOBAL Hall of Famer hits the ropes once…
Twice…
HALL OF FAME INDUCTION!
With a HUGE running spear with tremendous force behind it, the giant topples to the canvas! The crowd BOOS as Aleczander crawls over!
He leaps on top of his chest and hooks a mammoth leg!
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
DING DING DING
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Aleczander’s theme plays as he rolls up off the gargantuan body of his gargantuan opponent. He looks up and cackles madly as he slowly rises to his knees. He limps up to his feet and holds out a hand, DEMANDING that Duncan Sullivan raise it. Duncan rolls his eyes, but does the job that GLOBAL Wrestling pays him to do.
“Here is your winner and the #1 Contender to the GLOBAL Championship… THE… ugh… GLOBAL HALL OF FAMER… ALECZANDER THE GREAT!”
Aleczander falls back to his knees and starts to act like he’s gonna cry…
There’s actual tears…
Of laughter.
“DID IT, MATES! ALL ON ME OWN! I’M THE STRONGEST! I’M THE BEST!”
He leans against the mat and the crowd is booing as Nigel Kensington III is helped to his feet outside by Rupert Royston-Fellowes on the outside. Del Waterstone has been laid out just outside the ring by Big Aug and thanks to their appearance at ringside, they’ve just helped Aleczander once again slay the giant.
Aleczander rolls out of the ring and takes in the boos as he takes a sweat-soaked victory lap around ringside! He laughs in triumph and then meets up with The Best of British halfway up the ramp, then pulls something out of his tights. He puts it on his pinky and kisses what looks like a clunky golden ring…
“HALL OF FAME RING, BABY!” Aleczander shouts. “HALL OF FAME RING FOR A HALL OF FAMER AND #1 CONTENDER LIKE ME!”
He kisses the ring once more and then lays a phantom punch into the nearest camera on him before backing up.
Big Aug is finally coming around, holding his head and chest in pain after being laid into multiple times with the Hall of Fame Ring. He looks over to Del to see if his friend and manager is okay, but the final vision we see is Aleczander The Great and The Best of British standing at the top of The Red Carpet. Though his status as a GLOBAL Hall of Famer may be called into question…
The fact that he is the #1 Contender to the GLOBAL Championship is not.
Winner: Aleczander The Great
GLOBAL Sit Down
Recorded earlier in the day.
One of the most respected men in the business Steve Blaine has sat down with a long-time friend and one of the three men who will compete in the Magnum Opus Main Event, “The Legend” Sean Darring. Since it’s still earlier in the day, the legend is still decked out in his tailor-made black suit with a symbolic gold tie. Steve Blaine also dressed the part in a gray suit and purple tie. Steve Blaine and Sean Darring appear to be joking with one another as the camera begins rolling.
Steve Blaine asks Sean Darring, “Sean, it’s been a long road. Here we sit again, preparing for another big event shown in cities across the globe. Did you honestly think you would sit here with me again, discussing another opportunity like this?”
Sean Darring nods, thinking through his answer, and responds with a warm smile. “Steve, I learned long ago to never think about tomorrow as long as you lace the boots up today. I have had a blessed career. I have dodged a lot of the obstacles most older veterans deal with. I am relatively healthy. My mind is still partly intact. Sitting here with you talking about this honor and opportunity hits home.”
Steve Blaine continues with the questions asking. “Let’s start with Daniel Dream. You already faced him in the first GLOBAL main event and won. What do you think of Daniel Dream?”
Sean Darring points over towards the hanging USA flag and responds. “Proud American? Maybe, a little too proud sometimes, but he is very proud. Daniel Dream has a lot to be proud of. There is no doubt he has earned his spot in this match tonight. You mentioned our first match. That feels like ages ago. The stakes are different here. He has been crowned the chosen one. But will he be crowned GLOBAL champion? Everyone assumes that Magnum Opus will be Daniel Dream’s night.”
Steve Blaine’s playful demeanor changes with the next question. “Your other opponent is a man you know all too well with your legendary battle in SCW, Alex Reyn. I remember that match well. Are you mentally and physically prepared to return to the ring with Alex Reyn?”
Sean Darring raises his eyes, giving an honest response. “No. Anyone who tells you differently is lying. I remember that night well. The blood, the pain, I still have the scars. Alex Reyn, while a bit of a cliche with his dark, angry brooding demeanor, is a legit nightmare inside that ring. Nobody knows it better than I do. He is going to come out there, and it’s going to be chaos. It’s who he is. There is no preparation for it. There is only surviving it.”
Steve Blaine nods in agreement following up with another question. “We talked about Daniel Dream and Alex Reyn. What about you? What about the legend? How are you feeling going into tonight? Should Daniel Dream and Alex Reyn be worried?”
Sean Darring sits reflecting for a moment. He turns, looking at the giant Magnum Opus promotional poster with the three men plastered with the small Doritos promotional logo in the corner. He then turns back and replies. “It’s the million-dollar question. If you were going to vegas, the safe bet would be to place your bets behind one of the younger, faster, tougher men. However, the data tells you otherwise. I have beaten both men. I stepped inside that ring, and I survived the chaos. Sometimes the older, wiser, battle-tested warrior uses his years of experience to survive just long enough to raise that arm. I have never been one to play the safe bets anyways.”
Steve Blaine likes the confidence and answer in his “battle-tested” friend. He asks, “What would it mean to you to become the GLOBAL Champion after everything you have accomplished and been through in your career?”
The Legend smiles at the thought and answers. “It’s the reason we are here. There is no other reason in the world to step inside the ring with men like Daniel Dream and Alex Reyn if you don’t have the drive to wear that illustrious golden prize. The day I inked my GLOBAL contract, I knew it would be my last chapter. To win the GLOBAL Championship with a locker room like this would be an honor that would be worthy of an end of a legacy.”
Steve Blaine looks a little nervous, asking the tricky question. “You talk about the final chapter, legacies, and the end. Does that mean we may not see the legend for that long, Sean?”
We have reached an obviously uncomfortable point in the interview for the legend, but he hesitantly responds. “I don’t want to make tonight about me. Tonight is about GLOBAL, and it’s historic night. A locker room full of future stars in this business is ready to go out and entertain GLOBAL Nation. I have a contract that I am fully prepared to finish, god willing.”
Steve Blaine takes the queue from his friend. He extends his hand. “It’s always a pleasure to talk to you, my friend. Best of luck tonight in your quest to become GLOBAL Champion.”
The Legend accepts the handshake and responds. “You will have the best seat in the house, Steve. It’s not only going to be historic tonight, but it’s going to be legendary!”
Steve Blaine nods in agreement asking one final question. “Before we turn these cameras off, Sean. Can you give us a final message about tonight?”
The Legend smiles almost like it was scripted, but Steve and Sean know each other well. “Champions, they come and go. Legends last forever.”
The Case For Darring
Jabari Crossover strides purposefully through the backstage area of GLOBAL Studios, his eyes scanning the corridors until he spots Allie leaning against a nearby wall. Jabari approaches Allie Reece, who looks like she has just arrived with her shoulder-length pink hair down, gray cardigan and matching sweatpants, backstage and asks her in his usual confident tone, “Hey Allie, I’m curious to know, what are your thoughts on the main event tonight between Alex Reyn, Sean Darring, and Daniel Dream?”
Unlike The Mark, Reece doesn’t hesitate. ‘Sure. Sean Darring, definitely. Don’t get me wrong. They’re all A-MA-ZING, but one, he hasn’t lost. Two, he has beaten Dream. The Mark has filled me in on his past with Reyn, and that’s not unfavorable, either. He’s got the experience, stamina, wisdom and technique, and the other guys don’t have a massive advantage over him when it comes to power, so yeah, Sean Darring’s my pick.’
Jabari says, ‘I see what you’re saying, Allie. Darring’s been on a roll lately, and he’s definitely got some impressive victories under his belt. His stamina will also come into play because he’s dealing with not just one opponent, but two. Do you think that Reyn will target Darring and what do you think will happen if Sean Darring isn’t even involved in the final decision?’
Allie claps her hands, impressed, and amused by Jabari’s query, all rolled into one. ‘I don’t think Reyn will only focus on Darring, but he may pay more attention to him because he probably wants some sort of revenge. I’ll be surprised, but not shocked, if Darring isn’t there at the end of the main event. They’ve all got a chance.’
Jabari smiles and adds, “And that’s what makes for an exciting main event. Pleasure as always, Allie.”
Reece nods and waves back. “Thanks, Jabari. See you.”
Amber Lee Vs. Kid Chameleon
‘Well, buckle up because these two had a war on Domination Five.’ Lucas reminds us.
‘One that remains unresolved if you ask me.’ Mark Deltzer grumbles.
‘No one is asking you, but you have a habit of telling us these things anyway.’ Allie complains in response to Mark’s moaning.
‘I appealed to the GLOBAL Board of Directors, Giovanni Ferrari himself, and he said he couldn’t overturn the original result, but that Kid Chameleon deserved another crack at Amber Lee, so here we are.’ The Mark says defiantly.
Allie is equally bullish. ‘Lightning will strike twice, and this time, it’ll be faster.’
Objectively, Quinn opts to hype the match. ‘Fans, you may be in for another treat. It’s Amber Lee versus Kid Chameleon, Part Two, and the time limit this time is twenty minutes. Will we need them?’
Sporting sunglasses indoors, ripped denim jeans, a plan white t and that black leather jacket which makes him looks like The Fonz, or in Kid’s mind, Spider from Micro Machines, Kid Chameleon gets a half-decent reception, walking out to Mr. Bungle’s ‘cover’ of the Super Mario Bros. theme. His partner, Paul Sanders,
‘Before my colleagues argue like cat and dog, Amber Lee officially picked up the victory against Kid Chameleon in the nick of time, but that controversy and the quality of the action has led to a natural and immediate rematch, which is the one thing all three of us can unanimously agree on.’ Quinn points out. Talk about being diplomatic.
‘Kid was robbed.’ The Mark predictably claims.
And, 3..2…1 ‘No, he wasn’t. Amber won it at the death, I’ve watched it back multiple times, and Amber will prove it wasn’t a fluke here at Magnum Opus.’
Over to you, ‘Downtown’ Brown, ‘From Windelm, weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds, Nintentdo’s Number One, X-Box’s X-Factor, Kasumi’s Secret Crush, Lara’s Boyfriend, Mario and Luigi’s Other Brother, Gouken’s Third Disciple, Bass Armstrong’s Future Son-in-Law and the Saturday Night Slam Master, KID CHAMELEON!’
Paul pats Kid Chameleon on the back, and th
en departs, retreating to the right-hand corner nearest The Mark, who Paul acknowledges, Allie Reece and Lucas Quinn.
Reece teases Deltzer. ‘Saying hi to your buddy there, Mark. I will say I’ve seen worse sights in my line of vision, but keeping it professional and being a wrestling commentator, Kid Chameleon should really get rid of him.’
‘Lose Control’ by Poe The Passenger allows some audience members to do just that, particularly when Mr. Brown announces, ‘From LOS ANGELES, California, weighing in at one hundred and seventy pounds…AMMMMMMMMBEEEEEER LEEEEEEE!’
In a yellow top and blue shorts, Amber waves, and extra cheers go up at the sight of one Alfie Button, in action later on, accompanying her in his technicolor dreamcoat.
‘That’ll set tongues wagging, all aboard the Amber Button ship.’ The Mark playfully comments.
‘Two great athletes, and whatever’s going on, doesn’t really affect the match, does it? Interesting to see what part Alfie and Paul Sanders may play on the outside, though.’ Allie mentions.
‘Probably, zero.’ Deltzer reacts.
Amber tags the fans on both sides of the aisle way, Alfie pointing back to the big screen, which flashes up – Will Amber play with Kid again? My money’s on repeat.
‘We agree, Alfie.’ Reece applauds.
‘It’s a shame, I really like Alfie.’ The Mark grumbles.
Amber walks the stairs and steps through the ropes as Alfie urges The Globe to raise the roof, and the bell sounds, ‘Lose Control’ fades out and the second match here at Magnum Opus is the second between these two fan favorites on opposite ends of the win-loss spectrum in GLOBAL so far.
The Californian comes storming out of the trap, seemingly searching for a Spear very early on, but Kid senses the imminent danger and uses ‘The Amazon’s’ momentum against her with a Drop Toe Hold, and an elbow to the back of the head, allowing The Mark to call it ‘Dake Toe Hold’ according to The Player’s, er, Playbook.
However, The Mark’s voice rises substantially when he sees the SEGA Ambassador switch to a submission move, and not your run-of-the-mill hold, only the deadliest one in his locker.
‘AKI’S REVENGE.’ The Mark screams excitedly.
‘This could be over, and over quick.’ Quinn chips in, recognizing the danger.
Allie Reece’s mouth looks like it could catch an entire beehive, shocked at Amber’s predicament and realizing that The Mark would be unbearable, even more so than usual, however, Reece’s mood mirrors Lee’s leg strength pretty rapidly. Amber, impeded by the 190lbs on her back, displays why regular gym workouts can pay dividends, inching towards the ropes, even with the leather jacket-clad console king on her back, making it an excruciating push-up to pull off, but the bottom rope looks increasingly inviting and she’s determined to get there, which she does, prompting a round of applause from the good folks at The Globe.
‘Wow. Amber, not gonna lie Mark, looked in danger for a moment there.” Allie admits.
‘Still does.’ The Mark shoots back defiantly.
‘Which path should Kid go down, Mark? You know he has plenty of submissions in his arsenal, but Amber’s a good technician in her own right, and do you go for arms or legs, as all four of those limbs look lethal to me.’ Lucas ponders.
‘He can go either way, but if it were me, I’d go for both, starting with the legs, because he’s already on that path, and not only does it affect her strength, it also takes that height advantage away. Plus, if you can’t stand, you can’t win. It doesn’t get simpler than that, does it?’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ Lucas confirms, parroting his partner.
Chameleon allows Amber, who has a slight limp, to stand, stalking her to the bottom right-hand corner. As he’s coming in, with nowhere else to go, the leggy Lee illustrates the height difference with a superb right hand down the pipe. Before Kid can inevitably fall from both the power and element of surprise packed into that wonderful shot, Amber swivels him round, so it’s Kid who’s now trapped in the corner and Lee makes that count by using her left hand to hammer away with a couple of massive blows, wobbling Chameleon to his core. Talk about standing tall.
Once again, Amber doesn’t let Lara’s Boyfriend fall, but on the subsequent Irish Whip attempt, the World’s Greatest Gamer clings to the middle rope, refusing to make the short trip across the squared circle. A pair of potentially teeth-shattering European Uppercuts, in tribute to Alfie Button, who applauds approvingly on the outside, softens Kid up. Finally, Amber whips Chameleon into the buckle, sending him upside down and out, leaving Kid laying in front of our three-pronged commentary team.
‘There’s your boy, Mark, and again, Amber rides the wave and comes out on the other side.’ Reece brags.
Amber Lee joins Kid Chameleon outside and gives Allie a smile and a wave as Reece calls her name. Lee scoops Chameleon up and drops Kid onto the desk with a Snake Eyes-esque slam, The Player’s forehead smacking the edge of the commentary table, causing The Mark to grimace as if he were in the match himself instead of his favorite GLOBAL grappler.
There is nowhere for Nintendo’s Number One to go, and Amber rolls Kid back in.
1…
2…barely.
‘A long way to go, I guess.’ Lucas comments, doubtless pleased at the prospect of another knockdown drag out.
‘Kid’s going up again.” Allie states, having a dig at The Mark, and unquestionably impressed by Amber’s raw power.
‘Gorilla Press coming up…and she gets it. Kid FELT that.’ Quinn waxes lyrical about Amber Lee.
Amber encourages Gouken’s 3rd Disciple to get up, and he is intent on doing so, even though Kid’s ribs seem to be a tad sore. Through gritted teeth, the World’s Greatest Gamer gets to his feet, only to get taken off them again…
SPEAR!!!
‘That’s it, right there.’ Reece predicts.
1…
2…
Not too far away!!
‘Amber, and I’m being complimentary to Kid here, has to capitalize on this, because they both had a war a fortnight ago, and neither one wants to leave this to chance.’ Allie analyzes.
‘Not with what happened on Domination 5.’ Quinn contributes.
Despite being quiet in the last sixty seconds or so, The Mark pipes up. ‘Don’t count Kid out. He almost had Amber immediately.’
‘That was so one minute ago.’ Reece chuckles.
‘Credit to Amber, she’s playing with The Player just when it appeared to be ‘game over’ out of the gate.’ Cheers for that, Quinn.
While Lee readies herself for the next move, Reece tells The Mark that this is what she thought would happen on Domination 5, comparing it to Lee’s thrashing of Kid’s partner, Paul Sanders, on the previous episode. Fortunately, Paul doesn’t hear any of this, a hooked spectator like two and a half thousand others, though cutting a much more concerned viewer than the vast majority of them.
In the meantime, a BIG boot by the 6’2 amazon from down the road, goes astray as Chameleon catches it, quashing the Californian’s vertical base with a Single Leg Takedown and dropping an elbow to the inside of the leg, reminiscent of prime Bret Hart, allowing The Mark to call it as a ‘Standing Leg Clutch into an Elbow Drop’ in case you’re wondering.
Unsurprisingly, The Mark has found his voice again, but Lucas is also paid to give his thoughts.
‘Dragon Screw, a huge one, and wait a minute. Kid stands up, and drags Amber with him, and she doesn’t look ready for that.’ Lucas observes.
The second one, inevitably, arrives and leaves Lee in a heap on the floor and Alfie Button winces, biting his left thumb before roaring Lee on in a bid to get her back up as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Paul applauds and punches the air, delighted to see Kid back in charge.
With Lee on the ground, Chameleon unleashed his ‘Crazy Stomp’ comprising three stomps to Lee’s left knee and continuing to stomp away at the canvas, causing some fans to laugh. For a mental reference, you lot, think of Chuck Taylor getting carried away or Shinsuke Nakamura’s ‘Good Vibrations.’
‘Kid’s feeling it.’ The Mark beams, rubbing his hands together now Nintendo’s Number One is back in the mood.
Normally, Chameleon sets the next move up with a takedown, but if you’re paying attention, that has already been done here, and Amber’s also still on the canvas. Skipping that stage, Kid keeps control with a hard right at point-blank range before ramming the back of Lee’s head into the canvas three times, paying tribute to Tekken’s Marduk with another aptly named Skull Crusher.
‘You were talking big, what was it, about a minute ago, and now you’ve gone quiet.’ The Mark revels in winding Reece up and gets a kick out of her blunt response of ‘shut up’ and claps his hands together in glee.
Kid goes back to a bygone era for his next move, rolling back the years in wrestling and anime, evoking memories, and different incarnations of Terry with a…
‘Terry Special.’ The Mark never misses a beat.
Terryman or Funk, take your pick, either way…
This. Move. HURTS.
The World’s Greatest Gamer goes around the track three times with the Stepover Toehold, and rather than maintaining control of the submission, Kid decides to let go, much to Reece’s bemusement, amusement, and then annoyance at the arrogance and stupidity, which The Mark wholeheartedly disagrees with. Chameleon goes for bone-on-bone, knee-on-knee contact though, so it’s not like Lee gets away scot-free.
‘There is method to the madness.’ The Mark remarks. Hey, Shae.
Button and Sanders both encourage their respective tag team partners, Paul affording himself a smile while Alfie nervously paces like a caged bear, shaking his head and then nodding to himself like a madman, which he is.
Kid pulls Lee up by the arm, and in any other circumstances, it would look like Lara’s Boyfriend is giving ‘Alfie’s girlfriend’ a hand up, a gesture of goodwill, but there is something far more sinister in Kid’s thinking.
A Michinoku Driver, II to be exact, AKA…
Mega Drive-vaded! Amber elbows down on Kid’s head, forcing him to slump down, without going to the ground. Seeing an opportunity, Amber runs the ropes, springing off the left set of ropes, only to be taken down with an uncharacteristic Thesz Press as a setup, but The Mark immediately knows where Kid is going as soon as he tugs on Amber’s left arm with that of his own, wailing away with the free right not once, twice, nor even thrice, nor four or five, but SIX TIMES, doing quite a number on Lee, and then transitioning into a Cross Armbreaker!
‘NHB Combo, and this time, he isn’t letting go.’ The Mark informs us.
Over to you, Allie. ‘I believe you, and Amber has to make this happen. This is a spot to be in, all right.’
Lee refuses to quit, budge or even give the official an opportunity to call this one off. Alfie, looking concerned, bangs on the mat, trying to get the crowd going and Amber as a result. She seemingly responds to the Button-led bandwagon, making use of her long limbs to cleverly break things up, rather than unnecessarily rebelling against this and expending energy that she doesn’t have to, touching the bottom and middle ropes with the sole of her right boot after several seconds of struggling.
‘Yes, she got there, and I’m relieved, guys. Kid is bringing it AGAIN.’ Reece says, exclaiming and nodding at the same time.
Kid, not unlike a few minutes ago, patiently waits for his opposite number and rues that hint of hesitation when he cops a big-time Roundhouse Kick, causing him to stumble like a boxer being walloped by Deontay Wilder. Lee edges towards Kid, who instinctively goes for the most basic of moves with a Clothesline, but Lee reads it, ducking underneath. She traps him with a Full Nelson, though with the bigger picture in mind, takes him up off the ground, into the air and back down in one foul swoop for a patented Full Nelson Slam, extracting appreciative applause from an audience in awe of Amber’s athletic and physical prowess. Lee hooks the leg in hope…
1…
2…
And only 2. Lee scrapes Kid up off the mat, and he surprises her with a STIFF European Uppercut to the throat.
‘I PITY THA FOOL.’ The Mark shouts it so loudly, the Londoner opposite the ring hears him and shoots Deltzer with a dirty look. Mark holds his hands up, and while Lucas and Allie stir the pot, Deltzer insists he doesn’t mean anything by it. Alfie playfully points the finger, telling him to stop, which Mark apologizes for.
‘Stop trying to get me into trouble, guys. Alfie and I are tight, he gets I love Kid, but I respect him AND Amber, no matter what you say, do or think.’
In the meantime, Chameleon has ushered in another pair of excellent uppercuts, but here comes Lee, responding with a hat-trick of her own, and hers have more purchase and meat on the bone behind them. A fourth puts an exclamation point on her dominance, prior to whipping Chameleon to the southern side of the squared circle, meeting Kid square with a BIG Boot before falling to the ground and realizing that might not have been the (Darren) best idea.
‘She’s a quick learner, Amber, and won’t make that same mistake again.’ Reece reckons.
Eventually, the Californian executes the cover.
1…
2…
After Kid’s shoulder shoots off the canvas, energetically and defiantly, Amber waits for a second for leaning in with a Lariat once Chameleon is back on his feet, but now it’s her turn to miss, and Kid ducks before assuming a waistlock position. What does he have in mind?
To start with, a German Suplex, YA!
With Amber a little woozy on that one, Chameleon transitions into a terrific Tiger Suplex to make that two unanswered head dumps, and you can bet your top or bottom dollar, both if you want, he’s going for the trifecta.
Yes, a delicious Dragon Suplex completes the set, like on Domination 5, and Kid’s cover has The Mark on the edge of his seat.
Uno…
Dos…
Tr-y again!
‘Amber’s taking a lot of punishment, and deserves an awful lot of respect for that.’ The Mark believes, perhaps paying the Amazon a backhanded compliment.
‘That should worry an awful lot of people on the GLOBAL roster.’ Reece retorts.
Either way, Kid goes up for a Hurricanrana, but learning from their previous match and proving Reece in this instance, Lee knows he’s about to make her dizzy before lowering the boom, so to speak, and counters with an earth-shuddering Powerbomb!
‘Fantastic, explosive and impressive.’ Quinn raves.
‘Are you still talking about the match?’ The Mark wonders, and Allie lets out a naughty laugh in response, playfully punching Deltzer’s shoulder before realizing she was amused by The Mark, and folds her arms defensively and disgustedly.
Meanwhile, Kid can’t defend what’s coming his way when Amber sticks it to Chameleon with a fabulous right hand and sweeps him off his feet, probably in a way Alfie has dreamed of doing with Miss Lee to a degree, with an assertive Scoop Slam that almost makes The Player a permanent part of the mat they’re battling on.
‘KIMURA, coming up.’ Reece squeals enthusiastically, and now her head, like Lee’s, is screwed back on. Okay, not the optimum choice of words.
‘Again, Amber’s submission might have come just a tad early, it’s still painful like this, but she hasn’t got it locked in the way she wants, and Kid reaches out with his right hand to touch the bottom rope and Lee must, reluctantly, relinquish the feared submission move.’ Lucas lauds.
‘She’ll get him with it later on.’ Reece boldly predicts. Allie’s making a habit of that, isn’t she?
A Collar-and-Elbow sees Kid uncork a European Uppercut, just like their match three weeks ago, only this time, Amber weathers it and fights fire with fire, paying tribute to Alfie on the outside with not one, but two European Uppercuts of her own, the second one flooring The Player in the process. On cue, Alfie, go on, son…
I PITY THA FOOL!
There’s even more reason to pity Kid when Lee lifts him with contemptuous ease, seeking Go to Sleep, but Kid elbows his way back down to safety. Thereafter, he looks to leather Lee with a Crescent Kick, but Lee has learned her lesson from their first match, catching what caught her that night. However, Chameleon goes back to the well of something else that worked that night, and it does here, with a Leg-Feed Enzuigiri. We’ve got another double down and it gives the commentators, all with their own agendas, to contribute their two cents’ worth.
‘These two have done tremendously well to make it this far in my personal opinion.’ Quinn coughs up.
One…
Two…
‘They don’t need your personal seal of approval, Lucas.’ Allie says mockingly.
Three…
‘Not saying they do, they’ve earned it from each and every audience member in The Globe from Domination Five and here at Magnum Opus.’
Four…
The Mark reflects. ‘It’s been different, it’s been similar, it has had fewer breaks, I don’t know which match is better, but they’ve gained each other’s respect, above all, and that’s something that won’t go away any time soon.’
Five…
Six…
And as Amber, incredulously, uses her hands to pull herself up, it gives Quinn the chance to piggy-back off Deltzer. ‘And, right here, Amber Lee isn’t going anywhere any time soon, and neither is Kid Chameleon. They’re both up on the stroke of seven.’
Amber hits Kid with a hard right hand, but not only does Kid take it well, he one-ups Amber with a Roundhouse Kick, something she has used to great effect on him and Paul Sanders in recent weeks. Notwithstanding, as Kid scurries through Amber’s legs, she catches him in the nick of time. Lee lifts Lara’s Boyfriend up to his feet and then chucks him over her head with a HUGE Release German Suplex, which makes most of the crowd gasp at the awesome power display. Lee rushes over to claim her second triumph, erasing any doubts that remain from Domination 5…
One…
Two…
Thr—NO!
Amber appears taken aback by Kid’s resistance, questioning the count, and quickly accepting it. How do you build on that?
Hazarding a guess here, how about Kid Chameleon GOING TO SLEEP?
Lee has him in the Fireman’s Carry position, ready to detonate when Chameleon once again manages to break free and shock Amber, the commentators and everyone in attendance with a Reverse Northern Lights Suplex, otherwise known as the Southern Darkness Suplex in The Mark and Kid’s respective vocabularies, which leaves Lee face-down on the mat.
‘Just when you think Amber clearly has a power advantage, and she definitely does, Kid does something that reminds you he’s more than capable in that department himself.’ Quinn claims.
The Mark agrees. ‘Amen, and if he’s got in mind what I think he does, then what you’ve just seen will look like a piece of toast at the buffet.’
Kid Chameleon lifts Amber’s legs and starts swinging, which Lucas realizes is a Giant Swing early on, but after the third lap, the audience starts counting along. On the SIXTH lap, Chameleon tosses Amber backwards face-first, akin to a hotshot in the center of the ring. He keeps hold of her legs, and performs a back roll, sitting atop her back with a Texas Cloverleaf and immediately, the pain sets in.
‘SWINGING DIXIE BUSTER, BABY. Kid has got Amber Lee tied up in this hold, and in the series at one-one. It’s on, it’s over and she’s done.’ The Mark brags cockily.
‘This could be the biggest gut check in Amber Lee’s GLOBAL career so far, Domination Five included. Then again, she survived an early scare here this evening, but this is later on in the day. Amber needs to fight. Is she up for it?’
Allie can’t believe what she’s hearing from her colleagues. ‘Of course, she is and look at her, shaking her head, telling the referee NO repeatedly, she knows where she is, and doesn’t want to give up. Her hands are outstretched, she’s trying to break it, bravely, but Kid has got it in and got it in good, to be fair.’ Reece confesses.
It’s evident Amber is seeking refuge in the form of the middle rope as opposed to overcoming the hold with her sheer strength. She makes decent headway, and is roared on by the crowd, giving it one almighty push, leaning forward and barely touching the middle rope, forcing Kid to break, and he does so on 3, prolonging the pain for a wee bit longer before, mercifully, Amber can breathe without being caught in a pretzel with a near 200-pound Fonz Impersonator on her spine.
‘That took a lot out of Amber.’ Allie says, ever so solemnly.
A punch to the chest bone paves the way for a nasty-looking left hook, and The World’s Greatest Gamer is in the groove here. Lee’s body turns away, again, unquestionably rocked by the punishment The Player is serving up. Kid heads right and leans against the ropes, just waiting for Amber to give the green light and sit up. When she does, he dashes towards her with terrific and terrible intent.
It’s in the GA-A Push Flap-Up and a Capoeira Kick one-two double whammy keep Kid at bay and hand the keys of control back to Amber, who now on her feet, is keen to assert herself with a patented Roundhouse Kick, only to have the tables turned when Kid busts out a right cross from out of nowhere, a left cross that wobbles Lee, and then a kick somewhere south of the border that hurts, irrespective of gender. That last blow gets Chameleon a warning that he pays no mind, given he’s in the zone, focused on stringing several moves together. In fact, Chameleon appears to be going for a Sharpshooter, stopping short and instead settling for an Elbow Drop to the chest area, making Alfie wince for all sorts of reasons, ones which we won’t get into.
‘Hang Hang’ The Mark proudly proclaims as Amber is left nursing her chest, though multiple body parts of both performers are aching right about now.
While Amber lies on her side, Kid forces her to sit up with a wild left-footed kick to the back, and that’s just the start of The Player’s next sequence. He hops onto Lee’s back with a sudden Seated Senton, which certainly gets her attention with an audible response, the pain shooting through her spine. Does Chameleon care? No, he adds to Amber’s woes with a Reverse Chinlock, boring compared to the rest of Kid’s repertoire – or anyone else’s for that matter, it’s 2023, after all – but it’s really a gateway to A QUARTET of vicious headbutts to the back of Amber’s head, which opens both combatants up. They’re both BLEEDING from the head, Kid from the front and the back of Amber’s head, which worries Sanders and Alfie once they detect the claret. Our commentary team pick the bones of that, not that Kid is letting the sight of his own blood bother him. On the contrary, he’s a leather-clad shark at this moment in time.
‘It’s a different match, no doubt, but it’s still tiresome, gruesome now there’s blood involved, and it takes a physical toll. Will this go the distance, like it did last time? My guess is yes.’ Quinn tells us.
‘West Thrust, by the way.’ The Mark reminds us, unrelenting in his attempt to tell you every move in The Player’s playbook.
As Amber sits up, it appears Kid Chameleon, running from the blind side, may be attempting a Perfect-like Rolling Neck Snap, but just as he wraps his hands around Amber’s head and neck, he comes back down with a bang, catapulting into the bridge of her nose with double knees, and that impact reverberates around The Globe, giving the cheeky Cockney, Alfie Button, cause for concern while Paul Sanders jumps up and down, realizing this could be it.
‘ROUGH NIGHT, and it has been, hasn’t it? A first defeat for Miss Amber Lee, coming up.’ The Mark announces.
1…
2….
NO!
Deltzer yells. ‘HOW DID AMBER KICK OUT?!’
Rather than get mad, a Roundhouse by Kid Chameleon is coming up, looking to clean the clock of the dazed Lee, only for Amber to anticipate her own weapon, and duck before tying Chameleon up with a fantastic Pumphandle Sitout Powerbomb!
‘Just like that, after everything Kid has just inflicted, one move can chance a match and that could be it for Kid.’ Allie states confidently for the record, your honor.
A brief crawl to Chameleon’s prone body and a desperate outstretched arm, the right one, from Lee puts Reece’s theory to the test.
1…
2…
Not this time, though Reece reckons it may have worked out in Lee’s favor just a split second (or two) earlier, which The Mark denies, naturally.
Amber ups the ante with a couple of VICIOUS Kneelifts to the Nintendo fan’s nose, perhaps breaking it in the process, a technically-sound Snap Mare and a run, skip and jump towards the left set of ropes before compounding Chameleon’s misery with an on-the-money Basement Dropkick, and could that be enough to end Kid’s resistance?
1…
.
.
.
2…
.
.
.
NO!
The closest near-fall attempt yet has The Player’s cheerleader, Mark Deltzer, biting his fingernails.
‘In their two matches thus far, these two have been on some rollercoaster rides. Just moments ago, Amber Lee looked out of it, and now she’s…’
Lucas is rudely interrupted by Allie’s sudden call of ‘GREEN LIGHT’ directed at The Mark, who stares straight forward, trying ever so hard to ignore her.
Keen to build on her lead, Lee sets Kid up for a marvelous Short-Arm Clothesline, not letting Lara’s Boyfriend go, and treating him to a second dose, which does not go down well, though Kid does. Thereafter, he is helped to his feet by Lee, who takes two steps back before unearthing a stunning Standing Dropkick and scrambling over to see if she has the winning scratch card…
ONE…
TWO…
THRE-EATENING!
‘So close.’ Reece laments.
‘Indeed, Allie, and like the match at our last show, it feels like we’re at that point of one move looks like it could be enough, but then these two brave warriors go and kick out, so you never know. They’re well-matched, and Amber’s in another fight, and she knows it.’ Lucas compliments Chameleon and Amber, killing two birds with one stone. Will Lee’s next move kill off Kid’s chances of revenge?
It may, you know…
BELLY-TO-BACK FACEBUSTER!!!
Shall we check?
ONE…
.
.
TWO…
.
.
THRE-NO!
The 2,500-strong crowd breathes a collective sight, a mixture of frustration, admiration, and desperation, as our fans support both combatants, and are enjoying a rerun of the 15-minute to-and-fro from Domination 5.
And, in a change of Larry Tact, Amber lifts Chameleon up into a similar position to the Belly-to-Back Facebuster, only this time it’s a trap…
A Prism Trap.
“Could Chameleon submit here?’
The Mark dismisses that notion, while secretly scared his favorite wrestler may because Amber’s a BEAST.
However, so is Kid it seems, as he leans for the ropes, fighting through the undeniable pain until…
‘LEE PULLS HIM BACK.’ That’s the sound of Lucas yelling in awe of The Amazon’s combination of sensational strength and quick thinking, rag-dolling Chameleon about like a 190-pound toddler.
In vain, Paul tries to catch Kid’s hand and guide it towards the rope, but fails, extracting an outraged reaction from Alfie, who attempts to capture the official’s attention.
‘I thought you said he wouldn’t get involved, Mark.’ Reece reminds Deltzer.
‘I apologize for him, and he’s made me look like an idiot.’ The Mark confesses.
Meanwhile, Alfie gets over to that neighborhood pretty sharpish, and Paul holds his hands up, owning up to his misdemeanor and not looking to aggravate Alfie or Amber, for that matter. Naturally, Amber’s up first and Kid Chameleon joins her, only for him to eat a boot to the gut and a right hand down the pipe, readying Gouken’s 3rd Disciple for an Irish Whip to the top right hand corner, which she negotiates with ease.
However, the second part, which is a Corner Splash misses, and Chameleon gets out of the wrong part of town in the nick of time. He then backs her into the corner with Sagat’s well-renowned Tiger Knee and it soon becomes another awesome one-two with a Dragon Punch, a flying European Uppercut, which makes Alfie Button annoyed and impressed in equal measure if you can imagine that as Lee falls out of the corner like a redwood, and hey, she has the height for that analogy.
Sensing she’s not completely out of it, Chameleon seeks to make it a hat trick, and what better way to do that than a Soccerball Kick in tribute to the sport’s best-selling series in its LAST YEAR, no less…
IT’S ALL IN THE GAME—-SPEAR!
Huh?
Amber stands up, and at short-range, takes Lara’s Boyfriend down with a devastating Spear.
‘YES, Amber. Green light, girl. Mark, I’m sorry, your boy’s going to sleep.’ Reece gloats.
‘No, you’re not sorry.’ The Mark replies.
‘You’re right, I’m not. Come on, Amber.’ Allie admits, having reverted to fan mode and forgetting she’s supposed to be somewhat impartial.
The Los Angeles lass, albeit groggily, comes to collect Chameleon, and perhaps seal another victory at his expense, keeping her winning streak alive and prolonging his winless run, killing two birds with one stone…
GO.
TO.
SLEEP!!!
And the crowd’s reaction…that’s what you call a POP in its true form, and Alfie is included in that. I hope he doesn’t accompany Amber back to the hotel afterwards. Anyway…
‘She got it, she got ALL of it.’
Tired, Amber flops on top as the crowd counts along, delighted that the hometown girl is going to win it after another hard-fought battle…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!
“At the fourteen-minute mark, no pun intended, Amber doesn’t leave it QUITE as late to defeat Kid Chameleon for the second time in as many shows, but man, was it another war. Kid gave it a great shot, but Lee proves herself the better of the two in another fight that could easily have gone either way.’ Lucas states.
‘Hey, listen Mark, I know it didn’t go the way you wanted, but Amber’s amazing, so there’s no shame in losing to her and Kid is great. He needs to ditch Paul Sanders and go solo, though.’ Reece opines.
Sanders hears the remark. ‘Yeah, Mark, what do you think of that?’
Allie is set to apologize, but Paul silences her with a simple raise of his hand. ‘I’ve heard you say I’m not with it, I make bad decisions. Are you going to blame that on me?’
Some ringside spectators close to this are distracted by this developing situation as Alfie holds Amber aloft, and swings her around for the four corners of The Globe (get it?) to pay tribute to the LA Lady, triumphant once again.
‘Paul, you did nothing wrong here tonight.’ The Mark reasons.
‘Tonight? But, on other nights?’ Paul ponders.
‘Come on.’ The Mark holds his hands up, looking at Allie, who is worried about her broadcast partner, and then at Lucas Quinn.
‘Don’t look at them, what is this? All pals, yeah?’ Sanders steps back and kicks the desk, which actually makes him look childish. He glares at Mark, and then wanders off, while Kid Chameleon, who’s just coming around now, looks on. Amber and Alfie exit on the opposite side, oblivious to what has just gone on, celebrating the former’s success and hugging once more before going over what has just taken place.
‘Mark, what was all that about?’ Allie asks.
‘I have no idea, and did I say anything bad about him tonight?’
‘No, you didn’t.’ Reece confirms.
‘He is erratic, though.’ The Mark states.
‘That’ll get you into trouble.’ Reece reminds Deltzer.
‘I get paid to tell the truth, and while I’m at it, Amber deserved that tonight. Not going to change my mind on Domination Five, Kid did well, but it was Amber’s night and she’s some competitor. I wish her and Alfie an enjoyable evening. Kid’s getting his confidence and condition back.’ The Mark says, somewhat upbeat.
Amber and Alfie turn to the crowd, and wave, before Button’s hand grazes Lee’s, making it look like they may be holding hands.
‘Hey, did you see that?’ Lucas wonders out loud.
‘Nothing in it.’ Reece insists.
‘You can keep kidding yourself, Allie, but Alfie and Amber are heating up. What a power couple they could be. UNLUCKY, KID.’ The Mark yells as Chameleon winks at him before leaving, a round of applause extended his way for another sterling effort, albeit with a third straight solo reverse to show for it.
Winner: Amber Lee
Gunningham.
Marsh Lane, Barton Hill, Bristol
3:30am, February 13th, 2020.
The area of Barton Hill stands just to the East of Bristol’s bustling city centre, existing in the shadow of the Temple Meads railway station, its lines crossing back and forth across the small manor. The High rise flats which surround the area like gigantic guards posted on the entrances and exits of the manor are stained by the passing of time and have stood in place since the rebuilding efforts after World War II. They climb endlessly towards the drizzling night sky of the urban estate.
After the post-war regeneration project of the 1950s and 1960s many homeless people from inner-city Bristol found themselves housed in the new high rises until the population became so overcrowded that additional homeless residents had to be housed in neighbouring communities such as Southmead or Lawrence Weston.
As the years dragged on the post-war homeless population, struggling to find employment in an underfunded and overcrowded manor of Southern England started families. These families had no choice but to rely on the Welfare State to financially support them and their offspring.
Now the estate lies in ruin. The high rise flats sway in the wind, the pebble dashed walls grow bald like the malnourished middle-aged men that occupy the homes within. Litter blows in the cold breeze of the winter night’s air, dogs bark in the distance, fences and roller shutters secure every small business in the area from community centres to corner shops, and graffiti covers almost every surface.
It is on this night, where Marsh Lane meets Avondale Road, by the side of an overflowing public trash can with the moon eclipsed by the blocks of flats surrounding the semi-derelict street, that a man is pinning a stencil to a marked and dirty beige wall. He has baggy jeans on and well-worn navy blue Adidas Gazelle trainers, the laces are too long and drag on the floor. His hair is brown and shaggy, his navy blue t-shirt is spattered with various colours of paint.
For years he has avoided the police, having learned quickly how to do so after spending several hours hiding beneath a dumper truck, engine oil leaking onto his shoulder. Police had raced up and down the embankment just metres away from him, seeking him out after he had spray painted “LATE AGAIN” on the side of a passenger train.
Tonight he works quickly, having prepared his materials ahead of time. He has the right coloured tins of spray paint neatly organised in their order of anticipated use in his holdall, the stencils are pre-cut, and a roll of masking tape hangs from the handle of his satchel. He has done this before, this much is clear.
His work is world-renowned and has a distinctive style. One that will bring the side of this small end-terraced house great fame in the morning, and for some time thereafter.
But on this night, having evaded capture by police for so long, having concealed his identity from the world’s media for the length of his career, this artist is not entirely alone.
*
Across the street from the graffiti artist, in a small flat above a Chinese takeaway that has long since closed for the night, a family of first generation Chinese immigrants sleep soundly in their double bed. The father, still smelling of grease as he always seemed to, snores loudly. His skin is marked with the olive spots of age, which cover his balding scalp. Only a wisp of grey hair clings to the sides of his head nowadays, despite only being 40 years of age. His wife sleeps next to him, separated from him by their two young children; eight and four: two girls.
But this story isn’t about the sleeping impoverished Chinese family who came to England seeking a fresh start and business opportunity, only to be met with poor public housing accompanied by taxation and inflation rates that made simply breaking even a seemingly impossible task. This story is about the man in a tuxedo standing over them, the pale moonlight lighting him up through the dirty net curtains. On his head the man wears a Nacho Cheese Doritos bag. In his hand, he holds a paint gun.
Doritos Man gently moves the net curtain to one side, peering down at the man as he works.
“Robert Del Naja… No.” he whispers to himself.
“Paul Gough… No.”
“Neil Buchannan…” he scoffs to himself.
Rumours have been abound for several years that the famed artist might be a retired children’s television presenter.
The thought of a man who was once famous for creating large pieces of art from children’s t-shirts or old motorcycle parts seems ridiculous to Doritos.
“No.”
His head tilts forwards as he inspects the top of the artist’s head.
“But Robin Gunningham? We shall see.”
On the street the artist is checking the level of his stencil by eye, having stepped back several feet and knelt down on the back of his calves. This gives Doritos Man the opportunity he has been waiting for. He swings his paint gun over his shoulder, the strap holding it steady against his back before flinging open the window and hurling himself out of the opening, the net curtain blowing in the breeze of the drizzling evening. He grabs hold of the drainpipe and slides down it in one graceful movement. His knees bend under the strain of the height he has quickly descended from, but he doesn’t even come close to losing his footing.
As Doritos turns, so does the artist, but his face remains obscured as a bright red paintball explodes against the tip of his nose. The artist grabs his face, trying not to scream as Doritos sprints, the clipping and clopping of his well-polished dress shoes echoing down the otherwise silent street. He launches himself through the air and simultaneously swings his paint gun through the air.
THHHHHHWACK!
The head of the paint gun smashes against the temple of the artist, sending him crumpling to the floor, the back of his head hitting the curb hard and knocking him unconscious. Doritos meanwhile, lands on his feet.
After slinging the paint gun back around him it is Doritos who now sits on the back of his own calves as he looks down at the artist, his unconscious face covered in red paint.
“Gunningham, indeed.” he sniggers, “and what for this piece here?” he asks the unconscious man as he stands himself back up and gestures towards the wall, against which two stencils have been placed. One at the base of the wall, one up much higher with the ladder still set against it.
“Is this to be your masterpiece?” Doritos asks. “I think not. This piece, a young hooded lady holding, what is that, a slingshot? Firing flowers that are to burst as if fireworks,” he says, his hand gesturing upwards to the second stencil.
Doritos scoffs.
“A little ‘on the nose’, don’t you think? And on the eve of St. Valentine’s Day, no less, evoking comparisons to Cupid of course. You old romantic, you.” he says as he turns back towards the unconscious artist.
“And yet this little protagonist is firing the most rudimentary of weapons, is she not?” he asks, turning back to the piece, “Surely symbolic of her angst and her inability to resource adequate weaponry to fight back against…”
Doritos turns and crouches again.
“Against what exactly, Gunningham?” he asks, looking into the closed eyes of the painter.
Doritos head turns with a rustle as he eyes a large white trash bag filled with rose petals and ivy.
“Ahh, of course. This is not a firework she is to detonate, but rather a flare. A warning shot.”
He stands again and takes some steps towards the incomplete graffiti.
“Genius.” he whispers to himself. “What a shame it would be if it were to remain unfinished… This deprived area might get a day or two’s joy from the simple gesture, the celebrity of it all. Not that these peasants would understand its true meaning. But I’m sure it will catch the eye of a collector and perhaps bring some much needed investment into the area.
“But it seems unlikely.”
Doritos turns and stands over the artist, looking down at him once again. Now the man is stirring, his head rolling from side to side, quietly groaning.
“Lets not take the risk, Gunningham. Take to your ladder, and see what you can do. Make this your… Magnum Opus.”
The clip clopping of Doritos Man’s shoes echo up the quiet street, leaving the man known as ‘Banksy’ to regain his consciousness and complete the work known simply as ‘Valentine’s Day’.
Health Fanatics Vs. Prime Time Athletes
‘Two teams, who if they were chocolate, would eat themselves.’ Allie proclaims as the graphic of the tandems are shown to our viewers, letting them know that Health Fanatics and Prime Time Athletes, who’ve built up quite a rivalry in the last couple of months through their one-upmanship at the gym and physical challenges in front of a live audience, are up next.
‘The place to start is – how fit is Greg Matthews? The Prime Time Athletes have taken that left leg away from him, cheating in the challenges and, more importantly, weakening him for tonight’s tussle.’ Quinn wades in.
‘The strongest man in the match is not normally the weakest link, but thanks to Classic and Larkin, who actually make Somner and Matthews look LIKEABLE, and that’s saying something.’ The Mark shockingly claims.
A retro classic, Call on Me, blares out over the airwaves to hint at the arrival of Health Fanatics, who get a mixed welcome, and Damon Somner starts by posing, a la Shawn Michaels sans the fireworks, in front of Greg Matthews. The camera crew are eager to get a look, and sure enough, Greg still bears the scars of the hyena-like attack by the PTA, and a reinforced brace is there to try and protect Greg’s left leg, but what he can’t hide is the visible limp and grimace every time he accidentally places his entire 270-pound frame down on it. He’s walking gingerly, a complete contrast to the sprightly Somner, who has already hit the squared circle. Matthews trudges along, eventually ascending the stairs. As soon as he does, Eric Prydz’s vocals cease.
‘Downtown’ Jason Brown announces. ‘Weighing four hundred and seventy pounds, ‘The Engine’ Damon Somner and ‘The Powerhouse’ Greg Matthews.’
Not the usual introduction one would expect from Brown, who normally puts a bit more salt and pepper on the plate than that,
Legacy by Dirty Palm & Benix hits the PA system, which only means one thing. Two of the most arrogant young men are in the GLOBE. The first to emerge from the curtains is the team’s workhorse, “Suplex Ninja” Trae Larkin. Larkin is dressed, ready for battle, in a neon green and blue singlet with matching boots. He wears his gold sunglasses. His flamboyant partner, Jimmy Classic, joins Larkin decked out in a full-blown fur coat, luxury sunglasses, and matching neon green and blue wrestling pants. Classic’s coat comes off, as Jimmy basks in the boos being directed at the Prime Time Athletes by the GLOBAL Nation.
Brown revs things up a tad more here. ‘From Los Angeles, California and Seattle, Washington respectively…weighing in at a combined four hundred and forty pounds…LA’S OWWWWWWN JIIIIIMMMMMMY CLASSSSSSICCCC! AND…SUPLEX NINJA….TRRRRRRAAE LARRRRRRRKKKKIIIIIIIIN!’
‘I think these two brats paid Jason Brown off to make them sound like a million bucks compared to Health Fanatics.’ The Mark says, stirring the pot. Classic poses while Larkin exits left, and Greg Matthews is already stood on the apron, taking no chances. With two in and two out, the captains, if you like, are set to get us underway.
‘Greg Matthews may’ve got us started if his left leg were a hundred percent, but it looks like the previous attacks in the physical challenges have made their minds up for them.’ Lucas laments on behalf of the Health Fanatics.
The Mark, however, puts him right. ‘Damon would usually start them off anyway, bringing Greg in for the power moves, but you wonder how much of a part he’ll play. Is this a handicap match already? We’re going to find out if Damon Somner really is ‘The Engine’ because that’ll get tested by Classic and Larkin here tonight.’
Jimmy tests the water with a tentative yet show-off Superkick, which Somner effortlessly evades with a couple of paces back, and returns fire with an equally-cautious kick of his own, even more afraid to make a mistake than his contemporary due to the aforementioned state of Mr. Matthews on the outside.
After four to give seconds, they tie up, which Somner quickly converts into a Hammerlock, which in turn gives way for a Side Headlock, Damon seeking to grind Jimmy down. He does somewhat until Classic turns the con into a pro with a Belly-to-Back Suplex, only for Somner to re-counter the counter by landing on his feet, and negotiating a roll-up. Alas, Classic doesn’t go for it, shoving Somner off. Jimmy takes an early chance with a Standing Senton, which Damon is wise to, rolling out of the way and leaving Jimmy looking like an ass by landing flat on his, er, ass.
It gives Damon an opening, and he looks to capitalize on it by coming off the ropes on the left side of the battleground, scoring with a superb Basement Dropkick to the side of the head. Unfortunately, it prompts a trio of star jumps, which the trio sat at the desk berates him for.
‘Nicely done, but I don’t think he should be showboating.’ Quinn observes.
‘Or wasting energy, super-fit or not.’ The Mark weighs in.
Allie cuts to the chase. ‘He looks like an idiot.’
Upon wasting precious seconds, Damon eventually comes to collect Classic and takes it the now upright Jimmy with a stiff headbutt and an Irish Whip. Unfortunately for Somner, he telegraphs the leapfrog and Jimmy uses Damon’s own momentum against him with a sublime Spinebuster, and Jimmy’s not just done yet…
CLASSIC SAULT!
Kota Ibushi’s Golden Moonsault gets an amazing airing as Jimmy gets all of his signature move. Strangely, he opts not to make the cover, seemingly settling for making a statement instead. Apparently, he’s looking for Larkin.
On the way out, Classic cannot resist and takes a cheap (yet) smart shot, courtesy of a FRONT CHOP BLOCK to Matthews, ignoring the official’s protests and kicking the biggest and strongest guy out of the squared circle, compounding the powerhouse’s misery. It looks grim for Greg right now.
In fact, Classic tells Larkin to forget the tag, he’s enjoying himself too much, and may live to regret it as, unlike before, Somner’s second schoolboy attempt catches Classic off guard…
1…
2…
‘A Cutter coming up, no, Classic shoves Somner off into the ropes having anticipated it, but the Superkick is caught by Somner. What’s he going to do?’ Quinn speculates.
Well, I’ll tell you Lucas. Upon spinning Classic around, Damon softens Jimmy up with a stiff kick to the gut and makes it another case of second time lucky by unearthing the Cutter he had in mind moments ago.
1…
2…
Matthews is only just getting back onto the apron now, and you can see the gears clicking in Damon’s head, whether to bring the big man in or not, but he elects to stay in as opposed to tagging out.
Somner goes for another whip, this time to the turnbuckles in the north-west of the ring. However, after successfully negotiating that, Damon runs right into a Hotshot reversal by Classic, hanging Somner out to dry.
Classic capitalizes on Somner’s weakened state, folding Damon up after a MASSIVE Running Powerbomb out of the corner…
1…
2…
NO!
Despite Damon’s multiple attempts, Jimmy’s effort is the closest in the contest thus far.
Classic leads Somner towards Larkin’s waiting boot in the bottom left-hand corner, and two minutes into this two-on-two tussle, we have our first tag. Trae gets to work, performing a Snap Mare on Somner, bringing him back to a more central position and the back takes a beating via a vicious Shoot Kick. Larkin looks over the crowd, gesturing that Somner is nothing, which prompts some boos. The fans aren’t particularly fond of Somner either, but the PTA’s previous shenanigans and cocky attitude makes Health Fanatics de facto faces in this one.
Trae aids Damon, only to lock on a Full Nelson, but before he can get it properly applied, Somner speedily turns it into a Belly-to-Back Suplex, the same move he reversed against Classic earlier on. At 2 on the double down, Damon gives Greg a look, and Matthews nods prior to holding his hand out. The big man is ready, but is he able? I guess we may find out.
Larkin has stirred, but Damon has a clear path to Matthews, and there it is. The tag is made.
‘What a CLOTHESLINE by Matthews.’ Quinn reacts, immensely impressed by Matthews turning Larkin inside out with that massive Lariat.
Greg bends down for a lateral press…
1…
2…
Classic not only pulls Greg off Larkin, but makes sure he gets Greg’s left leg in the process, ramming it into the mat milliseconds after breaking up the pin, extracting boos from our capacity crowd here in California.
‘You may not like it, and I don’t either, but it’s effective.’ Quinn states for the record.
While the referee has a word with Classic, rather proud of his handiwork before exiting left, Larkin further weakens Matthew’s cause with three Leg Breakers, Greg screaming out every time his left leg smacks the mat.
A Fireman’s Carry from Larkin, and he elects to bring Classic back in. Jimmy heads straight to the summit.
‘Quick tags too, Quinn, are effective, especially against Greg Matthews here tonight.’ Allie adds to her broadcast partner’s observation.
‘Usually, and no disrespect intended, you’d want to isolate Damon out of the two because of Greg’s phenomenal power, but here, he’s obviously the weakest link and the Prime Time Athletes would be served to keep Greg in there for as long as they possibly can.’ The Mark muses, more of an authority on Health Fanatics than Reece and Quinn combined.
Looking back at Greg, Classic prepares for launch with a Moonsault Press, only to get caught by Matthews, who before planting Jimmy, elevates him a notch higher.
‘Good god, that would be impressive at the best of times, but when you consider his left leg right now, WOW! A remarkable Running Powerslam by Greg Matthews, and that has to take a lot out, but that might be worth it for what is one of the best reactions and ovations he’s ever had in his career, I imagine.’ Lucas raves.
‘It sure is.’ The Mark confirms.
Let’s fast-forward you through the double down, which reaches five when Matthews places an outstretched right arm across Classic’s chest.
1…
2…
Classic kicks out. Greg places his hand on his leg, winces a little bit, but then makes a decision to get on with it and he picks Classic up. A hard right hand sends Jimmy back to the corner, where only the buckles are keeping him up. Smartly, Trae, who’s right there, slaps Classic on the back, tagging himself in. Larkin runs at Matthews, ducks underneath a Clothesline, having learned a painful lesson moments ago, and springboards back off the eastern set of ropes, only for Matthews to catch him in mid-air and you know where this is going, right?
ANOTHER Running Powerslam!
‘That could be it!’ Lucas exclaims.
1…
2…
Like before, Classic interrupts the pinfall, taking a caution for the team, but he’s not content with that. How does he interrupt the cover? By standing on the back of Greg’s left leg. As Matthews cries out, our official ushers Classic away, Jimmy protesting his innocence, however, his smug grin betrays his insincerity. He gladly takes his second warning, knowing he may only have one left, but it’s worth it. Just listen to the crowd and that squealing pig, Greg Matthews. Music to his ears.
However, music to the crowd’s eyes, is the sight of Somner dragging a prone Matthews towards the ‘right part of town’ and Classic mouths ‘Damn it’ to himself, the audience winding him up further by increasing their volume.
‘Well, it’s not exactly legal, but is turnabout fair play, as they say?’ Quinn asks.
‘What’s good for the goose, and all that.’ Reece remarks.
‘Absolutely. I don’t condone cheating, but most of it has been coming from PTA, so why shouldn’t Somner give it back to them?’
The moment the referee turns around, Somner tags Matthews and rolls him out underneath before witnessing a tag on the other side from Larkin to Classic. Fresh legs, pun intended, for both outfits.
Somner is quick, but Classic shows his superiority in the speed stakes by countering his sprint with a dazzling Hurricanrana-cum-pinfall…
1…
2…
Roll-up by Damon…
1…
2…
Two rapid-fire attempts, and Somner, following a period of rest, seems good to go again, sending Classic to the right-hand side ropes, grabbing Jimmy on the way back, only to be punished by a tremendous Tilt-a-Whirl DDT counter!
1…
2…
NO!
‘Lovely work by Jimmy Classic there, and it looks like he’s going for the Classic Plex, no, an inside cradle by Damon catches him by surprise.’ The Mark calls.
Jimmy’s Bridging Fallaway Powerbomb, the deadliest move in his arsenal, might cost him here as it’s countered by Somner…
1…
2…
Somner narrowly misses with a follow-up kick, and Jimmy negotiates a La Magistral to punish Damon’s minor mistake, threatening to turn it into a major blunder…
1…
2…
Not quite.
‘A string of near-falls here for both Somner and Classic, making me wonder if one will get caught one. You never know.’ Quinn says.
‘It doesn’t cost a thing to try.’ Reece muses.
A Forearm Smash by Classic makes Somner check for teeth, thanks Arn, and a Hangman’s Neckb—ackslide by Damon, who drives forward with every bit of his being…
ONE…
TWO…
TH-AT’S NOT ENOUGH!
The hot near-fall leaves the crowd a wee bit woozy, but incredibly, Classic keeps his composure with a back roll, only to come forward with a CLASSIC KICK!!!
Jimmy’s Superkick echoes around The Globe like a gun shot. Will it be enough?
ONE…
TWO…
THRE-Somner’s shoulder, barely, just barely, comes up.
A round of applause ensues, irrespective of these two teams’ natural alignments.
‘Damon’s stamina, just in case you were wondering, never in doubt. But, what about his resilience? He just showed some there. However, he’s fighting two very fit young men alone in Jimmy Classic and Trae Larkin, you have to wonder how long Damon can continue for, given how close that was from the Classic Kick. Are the Prime Time Athletes on the verge, and does Greg Matthews, who is only just getting to his feet now, have ANYTHING left to give?’ Cheers, Quinn.
Meanwhile, Classic shouts something to Larkin that our cameras and microphones can’t quite make out. Jimmy glances over his shoulder to see Larkin in position, executing a fabulous Frankensteiner and serving up Somner on a platter for Larkin, who catches Damon in mid-air with a scintillating SITOUT POWERBOMB!
‘Wonderful, wonderful teamwork there by the Prime Time Athletes, and Greg Matthews isn’t the only one who can throw people around in this match, after all.’ Lucas gushes, impressed by that brilliantly put-together double team maneuver.
1…
2…
Somner kicks out! How, we have no clue!
Meanwhile, Classic goads Greg, catches him with a Dropkick as the big man is coming in, and Matthews slumps on the apron, indicative of his state before, during and no doubt after this match is in the books. He really is a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest, and yet, he’d usually be the one dishing it out under ordinary circumstances.
Just as the official is about to dish out a final warning, the PTA serve up a plate of their own, which is rather difficult to digest…
DOUBLE SUPERKICK BY PTA!!
‘That’s it, Damon’s done, his race is run.’ The Mark predicts.
ONE…
TWO…
THRE-DAMON, LORD KNOWS HOW, KICKS OUT!
Larkin isn’t letting Damon rest though, Dragon Suplexing Somner and ‘The Engine’ looks like he may break down. Classic adds to Damon’s woes momentarily with a wonderful Wheelbarrow Suplex and Trae looks set to complete the terrific teamwork and trifecta, which will surely wield a 3-count at the end of it, with a T-BONE—DOUBLE LARIAT by Matthews, who picks the perfect moment to intervene and all four are on all fours, as the crowd applauds, impressed with what they’ve just witnessed, as well as urging Health Fanatics to find another wind and shut Prime Time Athletes the hell up.
ONE…
The Mark pipes up. ‘Both Damon and Greg showing great resilience here, but to give Prime Time Athletes their due, they’re definitely dishing out the punishment, and making Health Fanatics work, not the other way round.’
TWO…
THREE…
Lucas Quinn concurs. ‘Yeah, you’d expect the Health Fanatics, given their name, to be in better condition, but the Prime Time Athletes showed their pedigree in the challenges, questionable tactics aside, and they’re doing where and when it matters, here at The Globe tonight.’
FOUR…
FIVE…
Greg Matthews, a man who prides himself on his first-class physique and incredible strength, is reduced to being a baby in this bout, crawling back to the HF corner, his left leg in even more agony than at the beginning, despite not being the legal man for that long, really. Meanwhile, the commentary team is currently confused by who’s legal and who’s not, but what everyone is sure of? We’re back to square one.
SIX….
The count is quashed. Classic tries to make the tag, but is denied by Damon, who drags him away from dry land and into the deep waters located in the centre of the ring. However, when Somner seems set to unleash a submission, Larkin bends the rules by running in, only to taste a Back Body Drop for his troubles. Somner, taking up the mantle of single-handedly winning this for the Health Fanatics, whips Larkin to the top left-hand set of turnbuckles before doing the same thing to Jimmy Classic, who is sent flying into Larkin, making Trae’s pain all the worse.
Suddenly, a tag to Matthews, who takes a shortcut to the corner with a CORNER SPLASH!
And, he’s not done, you know…
Snap Powerslam to Classic.
‘He looks great. Oh no, I spoke too soon.’ The Mark sounds apologetic, not a tone he often takes when referring to Somner or Matthews, but it seems genuine here.
His Powerbomb attempt is a step too far for Matthews, as his left leg gives away, and he clutches his knee. The referee comes to check on Greg, who can’t speak for the pain, and to add insult to injury, Classic ignores Miss Harris by booting Matthews in the face.
He bypasses Gabrielle completely, hell-bent on adding further anguish to Greg’s cause, and does so with a devastating Dragon Screw Leg Whip.
With the damage done, Classic does away like a burglar fleeing the scene, tagging Trae Larkin in, presumably to finish Greg off once and for all.
Jimmy lingers, like bad BO, and it soon becomes apparent why. After Larkin lays the table with a Suplex, Classic takes flight and boomerangs back towards the hapless, at least here, Somner with a Springboard Moonsault…
…or he would have.
Instead, Matthews interjects himself to mow Larkin down with a big boot, and Somner CROTCHES Classic on the top rope, leading to the biggest cheer of the contest at the sight of Jimmy suffering, and an entire bloodline being cut off there and then.
Damon drags Jimmy off the top rope, making the local lad fall flat face-first on the mat, making the masses laugh. Matthews has found his way back on the apron. Meanwhile, Somner hooks Larkin’s arms and takes the ‘Suplex Ninja’ down with a beautiful Butterfly Suplex.
1…
2…
Not quite. Damon comes back off the right set of ropes with a Diving Crossbody, but Larkin, like what you may expect from Greg Matthews, catches ‘The Engine’ in a Scoop Slam position, and gives it to Damon with a couple of knees to soften him up. The commentators suspect if Trae is going to avenge the Butterfly Suplex from moments ago, and they’re all shocked when Trae sets Somner down, grabs him in a Three-Quarter Facelock and…
NINJA NUKE!
Quinn is the first to twig just before impact, but in the blink of an eye, Trae has taken Somner out with his finisher, better known to me and thee as an Asai DDT. Prior to covering Matthews, Larkin senses Matthews is about to enter, so he takes the stuck-between-the-ropes brusier with a beautiful Dropkick to take Greg’s left leg out. Matthews slumps forward, and stumbles, and with it, it seems Health Fanatics’ chances have just evaporated.
Trae, to his fairness, doesn’t mess around and scurries back to the centre of the ring where Somner is flat out.
One…
Two…
Three!!!
‘The Prime Time Athletes have done it. All of a sudden, it’s Damon Somner, not Greg Matthews, who takes the fall, but make no mistake about it, Larkin and Classic worked together amazingly, and they isolated BOTH of their opponents, before and during the match. A magnificent example of their togetherness and cohesiveness on display.’ Quinn praises PTA.
Jimmy comes over to hug Trae, the glue that holds the team together and the one who gets them over the line. They have their arms raised by the referee as ‘Downtown’ Jason Brown announces. ‘The winners of this contest…THE PRRRRRRRRIIIIIIME TIIIIIIIIMMMME ATHLEEEEEEETES!’
‘They’re douchebags, but they got the job done and they’re a team to watch.’ The Mark believes.
‘Jimmy Classic is from California, and yet, he still came in here and got booed, which tells you what these fans think of Prime Time Athletes. However, as well as being incredibly arrogant and obnoxious, they’re also incredible athletic and talented. Well done to them.’ Reece remarks.
They ‘bounce’ while Matthews and Somner, both down and out, looks soundly beaten.
‘A good win, but we’ll see how they deal with bigger challenges and better teams in the future.’ Deltzer concludes.
Winner: Prime Time Athletes
The Case For Dream
Jabari confidently walks down the backstage area and spots Lucas Quinn, who is already dressed in his beautiful blue Hugo Boss suit, in the distance. Jabari approaches Lucas Quinn backstage and asks, ‘Hey Lucas, what are your thoughts on tonight’s main event between Alex Reyn, Sean Darring, and Daniel Dream?’
Quinn mulls it over for a moment, his index finger pressed against his upper lip. ‘I’ve been going back and forth between all three at various times, but I keep coming back to Daniel Dream. He’s the biggest man in the match, the most athletic, which is more important by the way, and he’s a great wrestler as well. For me, he is the best all-rounder in the main event and arguably the company, so yeah, I’m going for Daniel. Bet on Dream…Bet on America.’
Jabari nods and says. ‘That’s right, Lucas. Daniel Dream is one of the most dominant wrestlers we’ve seen in recent times. And tonight, I have a feeling he’s going to unleash his ‘Carnivore Mentality’ and tear through his opponents. It’s going to be one heck of a match.’
Quinn also nods, going along with Jabari’s assessment. ‘Yes, he has been dominant, he’s got the skills, the mentality and if he does that, I just hope he keeps his cool, but perhaps he needs something like that to combat Reyn, and he’s also got a score to settle with Darring. He’s been in imperious form since, though, and has looked virtually unstoppable.’
Jabari responds. ‘Yeah, ‘Carnivore’, has been known to have a mean streak, but he also has a tendency to lose his cool. If he lets his frustration get the better of him, he could have one of his moves reversed by Darring again. And let’s not forget about Alex Reyn, he’s been just as, if not more dominant, brutalizing his opponents. It’s anyone’s match to win.’
Lucas holds his hands up. ¡It is, and that’s what makes it a fantastic first main event. I can’t wait. It should be an amazing contest, no matter who wins, but Diamond Casinos and Daniel Dream have got my money. Thanks, Jabari.’
Jabari smiles and replies. ‘Pleasure is all mine, Lucas.’
Who Buys That Crap?
We get text on a black screen that says “LAST WEEK… BEFORE CRUSADER X VS. DARREN BEST…”
Inside the GLOBAL men’s locker room, Darren Best walks up to his locker holding his bag and opens it.
From the inside of the locker, we see a figure standing behind Darren.
The figure speaks in jovial tone. “Hey, Darren!” He comes into focus. It’s Crusader X.
The expression on Darren’s face falls a bit. “X.” He turns around. “Hello. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“Good! So, management probably told you that I requested our match tonight,” says X.
Darren nods solemnly. “Yes. They did.” He pauses. “…May I ask why?”
X looks Darren straight on. “Well, like with Alfie, I’ve been watching you wrestle for a long time, too, Darren. My old partner and I used to watch clips of you two teaming together on my phone before shows. I was always blown away by your skill on the mat. You’re one of my toughest opponents yet. I’m sure of that. But I was even more blown away by your resolve. Even through your injuries, through your battles against guys like Alex Reyn, everything you’ve faced, you’ve always done things the right way. And tonight, we can both show the world what pro wrestling looks like when it’s done the right way. And win or lose, it’ll be an honor.”
X extends his hand. Best shakes it, slowly but firmly.
“You know, X? I really appreciate that. Thank you. I’ve actually been watching you for quite a while too.”
X’s face brightens. “Really?”
“Of course,” Best responds. “Both in Mexico and in Texas. The moment I saw you in singles, I knew your name would be everywhere in a couple years. I knew there was a chance I’d face you down the line. You’re an incredibly gifted athlete… and an even more gifted tactician. I have my work cut out for me tonight.”
X beams. “Thank you! I-“
Best cuts him. “Unfortunately, you’re a TERRIBLE liar.”
X appears stunned. “A liar? What do you think I’m lying about?”
Best continues, staring him straight on. “I read your interview. ‘Oh, I’m not trying to build an army!’ Do you really believe that anyone here buys that crap?”
X scoffs. “‘That crap’ is the truth. I just want to work with like-minded wrestlers, and-“
Best cuts him off again. “Be honest, X. With yourself and with me. This ‘nice guy’ act will only get you so far.” X flinches slightly as Best gets closer to his face ans continues. “Look. You speak a lot of sense. About the cheating, the nepotism, all of it. I hate it too. But I’ve seen a lot of guys just like you. Ideologues who lose their heads trying to ‘fight the system’. The system always spits them out. The locker room’s been talking. I know you’ve heard them. You’re making a lot of enemies. You’re dividing people. If you escalate this into some kind of idiotic war, some of these guys are going to do anything to take you out of this sport… and they’re gonna take out anyone dumb enough to stand by you, too.”
X scoffs again. “Are you telling me to give up? Forget about my beliefs?”
Best raises his eyebrow. “No. It’s your funeral. I don’t care what you do… with one exception: Leave Alfie out of it.”
X nods. “So THAT’S what this is about.”
Best continues. “Did you know that in all my years of knowing him, I have never seen Alfie happier than he is now? He likes it here in GLOBAL. And he’s got a good thing going with Amber. I don’t want you ruining this for him.”
X laughs. “Darren, I’m not trying to get in between him and Amber. I just want to work with him. I admire him and I think we could help each other improve. That’s all this is. No forcing him to share my beliefs. No ‘army’. No ‘war’.”
Best points at X. “You’re lying again.”
X’s smile drops. He raises his voice and points to the floor emphatically. “I am NOT lying.” Darren doesn’t flinch. He stares him dead on with a grave look in his face.
X continues. “If he does agree to team with me, I’m not forcing him to do anything. He could end our partnership at any time. And if these enemies you’re talking about do come for me, he doesn’t have to be a part of that fight if he doesn’t want to. He can walk away at any time. It’ll always be his choice.”
Best snaps back. “See, you say that, but you say a lot of things. You’ve been hounding him from the start, trying to buddy up to him, and you just so happen to be wrestling people who have a history with him. Very convenient. You’re pressuring him into this. And you’re not even TRYING to hide it. I don’t care if you think you’re giving him a choice. Leave. Him. Alone.”
X throws his hands up. “Alright.” He gives a slight smile. “You know what? Let’s let our match decide. If I lose, I’ll take back my offer to Alfie for the time being. And I’ll reconsider my approach here in Global. If I am just another ‘ideologue’ doomed to fail, someone like you should be able to beat me. But if I win… all I want you to do is think. Think about this: isn’t freeing professional wrestling of corruption something that wrestlers like me, or Alfie, or you should strive for? It seems like a losing battle… but what if someone could win it? I look at your career and I see a great athlete and an honest competitor who’s been screwed and spit on and beaten down over and over by people who don’t even belong in this sport. And every time that happens, you put your head down and move forward, but for what? Why don’t you look at the people who took what you’ve earned from you? If men like Alex Reyn or Sean Darring were no longer a concern, where would Alfie Button be? Where would Darren Best be? Tag team champions? Regional champions?”
X pauses, moving close to Best’s ear.
“…World champions?”
Best stays silent. His stoney expressions shifts to something… uncomfortable, allmost pained. He looks to the floor. We get a close up of his face. In his eyes, you can almost see an entire career’s worth of dreams, ambitions, failures, heartbreak, and pain. For the first time since the conversation started, for the first time in a long time, he seems… uncertain of himself.
Best realizes this. He snaps back into his stone-faced expression. “Look, I don’t care about a stupid wager or… whatever you want me to think about. For the last time, leave-“
Alfie bursts in, sees Darren, says he’s been looking for him and wants to talk, but then spots Crusader X.
“Alfie! Hey!” says X.
Alfie warily greets Crusader. ‘All right, I was lookin’ for you too mate.’ Crusader X smiles ear-to-ear upon hearing that, but Button clocks Best staring off into space awkwardly, clearly a bit shaken.
‘Dazza, you look a bit peaky, mate. Am In interrupting somefin’ ‘ere as I can always come back later if you wanna? No skin off mah nose.’
Darren goes to speak. “We-“
X cuts him off. “Not at all. We were just talking about our match. By the way, I didn’t talk to you about it last week after your match, but have you given any more thought to my offer?”
The cheeky Cockney nods. ‘As it happens, I ‘ave and that’s why I wanted to talk te ya. Listen, I appreciate all the messages and everyfing following my loss to Darring, and I can still learn a fing or two from you, Dazza as well, I don’t pretend I know it all, cos I don’t and I never will.’
Button continues. ‘You did a number on Kid, and Dazza and I ‘ave always struggled with Kid, ‘aven’t we? But, I’m still not convinced by you, and I’ve got a feelin’ Dazza probably said somefing similar before I walked in ‘ere. But, why don’t you show me first-and at Magnum Opus? Why don’t we put my skills and your stills to the test, and if I win, well, you’ve got nuffin’ to teach me, wouldn’t you agree?’
Crusader nods, affording himself a wry smile. ‘I do. And if I win?’
Button holds his hands up. ‘We work togevver for a match, and see where it leads.’
X is taken aback. “Oh.” He seems a bit reluctant… but then he smiles. “That is interesting. I do love a good wager.” He glances at Darren, who tenses up. He looks back at Alfie. “I accept.” X offers his hand and Alfie shakes it.
Alfie points his left index finger at Crusader X. ‘A deal’s a deal. I’m lookin’ forward to it, geezer.’
X smiles at both of them. “Me too. I can’t wait. This is exactly why I signed with Global. Well, I should get going. See you out there, Darren. I’ll give you my best.”
“Very funny,” says Darren flatly.
Alfie puts his arm around Darren and looks Crusader dead in the eye. ‘Even though you were incredible against Kid, this geezer right here.’ Alfie slaps Best on the shoulder.
‘Dazza’s a ‘eck of a test for anyone, and you’ve got ya work cut out for ya.’
X smiles. “One way to find out. Brace yourselves.” He exits the locker room.
Button looks back and jokes. ‘See ya later, Crusader.’
Darren stares silently.
Alfie turns and asks Darren. ‘What the ‘ell was that abaht?’
Best responds sheepishly. “It’s nothing. Just… X being X, you know?”
Button nods along like a Churchill dog. ‘Oh, trust me, mate. I know.’
Christian Pierson Vs. The Great Wall
“Fans, up next we have a man looking for a return to form in Christian Pierson,” Quinn relays.
“The last match was….interesting,” Allie adds, “He seemed fine and suddenly Sean Darring just took him out with no defense or fight in him at all!”
“It WAS Sean Darring,” The Mark chimes in, “A man who is fighting for the Global Championship in the main event.”
Allie responds with a furrowed brow, “I get that, I really do. But anyone who watched that match walked away wondering why Pierson suddenly stopped moving his arms in defense or even offense.”
“Well,” Quinn inserts to move things forward, “Maybe we get answers in this match as PIerson takes on The Great Wall. Let’s throw it up to Jason Brown for the introductions!”
The screen adjusts to now show the familiar wide shot of the ring where Jason Brown stands with microphone in hand.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Brown begins, “The next match is set for one fall. Introducing first, standing at six feet, three inches tall and weighing in at two hundred and twenty-four pounds, hailing out of Burlington, Vermont, here is CHRISTIAN PIERSON!”
Blacklite District’s “Cold As Ice” begins playing as the yuppy Christian Pierson walks out. The fans seem to have a mixed reaction for the enigmatic performer and the view point changes to a close up of him entering the arena. He is wearing black tights and blue boots with gold on the heel and tongue of the boot.
“He certain looks ready for this one,” Allie notices.
“He better be,” adds The Mark, “Because his opponent is named aptly.”
Pierson enters the ring and goes to a corner, looking confident. He hands his entrance gear out and seems content as he awaits the entrance of his foe for this grand event.
“And his opponent!” Brown sounding even more pumped up in his introductions tonight, “Standing at towering seven feet, one inch tall and weighing in at three-hundred and sixty-five pounds. Hailing from Guangzhou, China and led to the ring by his mentor Xiang, here is THE GREAT WALL!”
Shen Yi’s “War Dance” begins to ring out on the PA system as the giant monster comes walking out with Xiang a step in front of him. There is a look on his face that shows no emotion. This resolute beast is seemingly unflappable despite boos from the crowd.
“Pierson is getting a golden ticket tonight as The Great Wall was not exactly a solid presence his last time out,” Allie states.
“That wasn’t the REAL Great Wall,” The Mark retorts. “You see the man walking in front of him now is Xiang, the leader of the Xiang dynasty, and a great leader. We have not truly witnessed what The Great Wall can do because Xiang had been absent.”
“And now he’s here,” fires back Allie, ” he isn’t doing the fighting in the ring for him.”
“Allie, you just have to understand what Xiang means to The Great Wall and vice versa,” answers The Mark. “Pierson has his work cut out for him, without a doubt.”
The view switches to a closer view of Pierson as Manny stands in the corner. The moment The Great Wall stepped over the top rope and into the ring, they look at each other and time suddenly stands still. Pierson steps toward his frozen-in-time opponent.
“What the literal fuck!” Pierson exclaims.
“Listen, you wanted a challenge at the biggest event,” Manny responds, “so why is his size a shock? His name is The Great Wall for crying out loud!”
“LOOK AT HIM!” Christian yells with a stricken face that shows how concerned he is.
Pierson shifts and stands where he is right between referee Aaron Powell and The Great Wall. He looks at the referee and again seems uneasy.
“I thought THIS GUY was huge,” and his head turns as he points to The Great Wall, “but this motherfucker is….is….”
“A great wall,” quips Manny.
“Fuck you, Manny,”
“Listen kid,” Manny continues, “stick to the plan I laid out and you will be fine. Don’t make me have to teach you another lesson.”
“The legs,” Pierson nods as he speaks.
“Exactly.”
Pierson kneels and looks at the legs of The Great Wall, muscular and large. “They are fucking TREE TRUNKS!”
Manny aggressively steps to Pierson and grabs him by the head as he speaks. “Stick to the goddamn plan. Take out the legs and the body will follow. You do it your way, and I promise you the penalty will not be worth the defiance.”
Christian’s face shows some genuine fear as he nods. The pair walk back to the corner and suddenly the view shifts back to the wider view and time once again resumes.
Xiang exits the ring as Aaron Powell calls for the bell.
DING! DING!! DING!!!
The Great Wall stands at near center ring and watches as PIerson slowly walks out of the corner and looks apprehensive as he circles the larger man.
“Looking for an opening,” Quinn states.
“Looking for a crack in the wall, one might say,” replies The Mark, cracking wise as usual.
Christian circles and goes for an MMA-style sweep kick to the left leg that has zero effect on Wall’s body. He just stands there unfazed. PIerson throws a second kick to the right leg almost directly to the side of that knee.
Nothing.
The Colossus again stands with no movement, with no worry, and worst of all for the yuppy – with no reason to flinch.
Pierson yells as he charge and dives right at the legs of his opponent, wrapping his arms around them and trying to use his entire being to get one of them to move and gain an advantage. The Great Wall looks to Xiang and his mentor nods. At this nod, the behemoth swings and lands a forearm to Pierson’s back that drops the smaller man all the way to the canvas and gets a grown from the crowd.
Pierson rolls and scurries out of the ring, standing there and staring up at the monster that still has not moved a single inch from the spot he stood when the bell rang.
“Pierson being smart and getting out of the ring,” Quinn notes for the broadcast.
“At this point, I bet he wishes he had never stepped foot in there,” Allie adds.
The view switches to show Pierson as Manny stands next to him.
“The legs aren’t working,” Christian says. “I need to find a different way.”
“I already warned you, now get back in there and stop acting like a scared little bitch.”
“Manny,” Christian turns his head to look at his friend and Manny just stares back.
After several tense seconds, Manny finally speaks, “All of this time and you still don’t trust me. Do it my way or you will wish you had because I’m done fucking around with you.”
With that the view changes back to normal and Manny is nowhere in sight. Pierson sees the count by Powell happening and he slides back into the ring.
Pierson gets to his feet and takes off to the ropes and rebounds himself towards his giant opponent. He jumps into a drop kick tot he right knee yet again, but it doesn’t move the Guangzhou Goliath a single inch.
Christian gets up and rushes to the corner and begins hitting the top set of ropes in that corner over and over. Is he frustrated? Is he angry?
“That is called biting off more than you can chew,” The Mark notes.
“He might be more for almost anybody,” Allie responds.
“Not Daniel Dream,” retorts Deltzer.
Pierson yells again and then takes off running at The Great Wall. He leaps and tries to hit a flying forearm, which The Great Wall brushes off. Pierson stands there and starts throwing punch after punch to the stomach and chest of his larger opponent. Yelling out loudly as he lands every single blow into the body.
The Great Wall remains.
Unmoved.
Pierson takes off again rebounding off the ropes and then rushing to the corner closest to his massive opponent. He leaps and propels himself off the top turnbuckle back toward The Great Wall with a spinning kick, which the Colossus literally sweeps away with his giant right arm, sending Pierson tumbling to the mat and rolling across the canvas to a chorus of boos from the crowd.
The view switches to a canvas-level view of Pierson’s face with Manny leaning in under the bottom rope.
“I told you so,” Manny chides. “And now you have to pay the price.”
Pierson’s eyes go wide as the screen switches back from that view.
Pierson pulls himself up, but a look of almost panic is on his face as he struts right up to The Great wall and hauls off with his right foot and kicks him right in the groin.
For the first time, the giant of a man showed some reaction to what Christian has thrown at him.
“What is he thinking?” questions Allie.
“He is realizing what he has to do to have a fighting change and he went for it,” Quinn acknowledges.
Yet his arms are not up for a follow-up attack. The Great Wall’s brow is frowning and he quickly grabs Pierson by the throat.
“This is not good,” Allie mentions.
The Great Wall lifts the yuppy in the air and then hit a head butt that is loud enough to be heard over the crowd. Pierson crashes to the canvas and the behemoth finally steps out of the spot he has held since the match began.
The giant grabs Christian up from the canvas and straight lifts him up into the air with a military press. He stands there with his smaller opponent over his head and looks at the entire crowd. He just holds him up there for what seems like forever before just removing his support and allowing Christian to fall straight down tot he canvas with a thud.
Pierson bounces so hard from the impact that he ends up back on his feet only to receive a jumping overhead chop from the Colossus that hits him square in the nose, busting it with blood immediately on impact and sending Pierson to the mat again.
Xiang yells out something in his native tongue and the goliath again moves to Pierson’s fallen body and pulls him up. The blood is dropping from his nose as he whips him across the ring and he bounces off the turnbuckles like a pinball and back to the giant foot of his opponent. The big boot drops the smaller man instantly and the crowd groans yet again.
“Christian Pierson is in deep trouble,” Quinn relays to those watching at home.
“He has had no answer at all for this monster,” Allie adds.
The Great Wall again moves slowly and pulls Pierson to his feet. Then with sudden swiftness, he grabs Christian with an inverted choke slam into a face buster.
“RONGYAO!” yells out Quinn.
“It is all but over,” Deltzer comments.
“You have to wonder what is wrong with Pierson right now,” Allie adds, “because he is not fighting back at all!”
The camera suddenly zooms in close to Pierson’s face. Toward his eye and then to the pupil. Suddenly it is like we have literally gone inside his brain.
And our view is of Manny standing at what looks to be a large bank of computer hard drives and processors, with an Ax in his hand.
“I warned you, Mejo!” Manny says as he swings an ax into one of the computer banks and sparks fly everywhere. “I’m death and life to you and now you will understand or die!”
He starts swinging wildly and with every hit, sparks fly.
The camera suddenly jerks back and we follow the same path back. Pupil, eye, face, and so forth until we are back at the normal view of the ring where The Great Wall has Pierson in the corner and he is just pummeling him over and over to the head with massive strikes with those giant fists.
Finally, and perhaps mercifully, The Great Wall pulls Pierson by the head and gets him in position, lifting by the waist and into the air before dropping him with a massive jack-knife powerbomb in the middle of the ring.
“DAO BOMB!” Quinn screams out.
“It’s over,” laments Allie.
The Great Wall places a foot on Pierson’s chest as Powell drops for the count…
ONE! TWO!! THREE!!!
The bell sounds as “War Dance” again sounds throughout the arena and Xiang enters the ring. He points at Christian and seems to be saying instructions to his giant charge.
“What is he doing?” Allie questions. “The match is won and over.”
“Oh, now is when he makes a statement,” The Mark adds, knowingly.
The Great Wall pulls Christian up and again lifts him for another Dao Bomb, except this time he methodically walks to the edge of the ring by the ropes and tosses the smaller man like a rag doll out of the ring and to the arena floor. Pierson lands awkwardly and is not moving at all.
“We need paramedics out here NOW” Allie yells out.
Xiang looks proud of his man pointing in his direction as the crowd starts booing.
We see medics rushing out with a wheeled stretcher as they start tending to the fallen yuppy.
“Well they say he understood the risks when he got in there tonight,” Quinn begins, “but you hate to see someone get hurt.”
“And he had as bright future, too,” Deltzer adds
“You shouldn’t talk about him like he is done forever,” Allie defends the fallen star.
“Isn’t he though?” questions Deltzer.
Medics have Pierson on the stretcher and are wheeling him up the aisle. All the while Xiang taunts the crowd in the ring as his monster stands with his right arm raised, victorious.
Winner: The Great Wall
The Angel and The Jerk Interviewer
Backstage, New York slickster-cum-interviewer The Bro is seen standing alongside GLOBAL’s youngest and least experienced roster member. As the camera focuses in on them, the backstage staffer wastes no time, promptly making the appropriate introductions.
“Dudebros and bro-ettes, please welcome my guest at this time…the Street Queen of Angel City…Angel Ramirez, bro!”
Angel, whose arms are full with a humongous bucket of barbecue chicken, nevertheless manages to hold up one hand in a ‘hang loose’ gesture, before promptly picking out another piece and biting into it. She then holds the bucket out towards The Bro.
“Ya want one?”
“Nah, bro…I’m gonna pass, bro…they get mad if you eat on the job, bro, I-swear-to-Gawd!”
Angel shrugs, pulling the bucket back towards her as she takes another bite of the drumstick in her hand. The Bro cannot help himself from taking a longing look at the admittedly delicious-looking pieces in his guest’s hand, but quickly regains his composure and begins the interview.
“Angel…in a few moments, you will be having a Street Fight with Queen Bianca Davis…and bro, lemme tell you this, bro…I think you bit off more’n you could chew, bro, I-swear-to-Gawd!”
“Why?” Angel’s tone is unusually snappy, but The Bro is unfazed.
“Well, bro, just ’cause Queen Bianca has shown before that she isn’t afraid to cheat…and there aren’t any rules in a Street Fight, bro. Which means she can cheat all she wants and not get punished for it, bro, I-swear-to-Gawd!”
“So?” Angel shrugs again, biting into yet another chicken wing as she thoughtlessly tosses the previous one’s bone over her shoulder. “She can cheat, I can cheat. Even stevens…BRO.”
The Bro appears oblivious to the Latina teenager’s barb, merely pressing on with his line of questioning.
“Even still, bro…she has a lot more experience than you do, I-swear-to-Gawd!”
“No she ain’t.” Angel is once again quick to counter. “Why everybody think they know me? Ain’t nobody here know me but Saul, y’feel me, BRO? Ain’t nobody else in this joint know where I come from or what I done. Not you, an’ damn sure not Queen ‘P–a’!” The next bite of the chicken is an angry one. “Real talk, I prolly been in more street fights growin’ up than everybody else up in here all together! You wanna talk about how Queen ‘P–a’ gonna cheat? You think I ain’t know that? You think I ain’t ready? Hell, bro, I cheat too. In fact, I do more’n just that… I LIE, I CHEAT an’ I STEAL. Kind’a like how I’m ’bout to STEAL back a win off of that ‘p–a’. An’ if I have to LIE an’ CHEAT to do it…that’s how it’s gonna be. So, go on ahead an’ write this down, BRO…if Queen ‘P–a’ think she gonna just trample me again, she ’bout to have her world rocked.” Angel holds up the piece of chicken in her hand. “’Cause see, that girl just like this chicken wing. Last time, she got roasted; now, she ’bout to get smoked.”
With that, the Latina promptly turns away from The Bro and strides confidently off-stage, carelessly tossing the second wing’s bone right into the interviewer’s face. It is therefore on a shot of a grimacing Bro attempting to collect himself that the feed cuts away.
Angel Ramirez Vs. 'Queen' Bianca Davis
Street Fight
A posse of Los Angeles street rappers spit about being “So Rough, So Tough in LA” as “The Kid” Angel Ramirez emerges through the curtain, accompanied by her partner, Saul Morgan, and looking more focused than ever, as evidenced by the absence of any of her usual crowd-pleasing shenanigans. Much to the contrary, her only concessions to personality this evening are her adored pair of vibrant pink running shoes and the bucket of chicken she is seen picking from on her way to the ring – the bone from her latest finished piece flying off somewhere into the crowd a moment later, no doubt to be treasured as a prized possession, germs be damned. Her hands full with the meal at hand, she is unable to interact with fans on the way down – other than to offer one of them a swap of his hot dog for a piece of her chicken, which he refuses – but nevertheless feels their love, as cheers rain down on her from all sides, which cause her trademark broad grin to appear on her features, replacing the focused frown previously in place.
“We are seeing a different Angel Ramirez here tonight…” Allie’s statement is promptly corroborated by – surprisingly – BOTH her broadcast partners.
“No, duh” is The Mark’s remark. “She knows this isn’t playtime anymore. This is a STREET FIGHT here. S—t just got real. In fact, SHE made it get real. So it’s definitely time to put her big girl pants on. And it looks like she has.”
“What remains to be seen is whether her inexperience will cost her again, against a notorious wily opponent…” Lucas completes his colleague’s thought just as Angel joins referee Aaron Powell in the ring, her slender teenage frame making for a stark contrast with his hulking, nearly seven-foot shape. A moment later, as though speaking of the Devil – “All Hail Queen Bianca” is heard over the loud speaker, indicating the arrival of the Queen, and eliciting a typically enthusiastic reaction from The Mark.
“BOW DOWN TO YOUR QUEEN!”
“Still a hard pass” is Allie’s response, as the woman herself emerges through the curtain, to the sound of the first few chords from “Bad Bitch” by Bebe Rexha. Afterwards, Royal Trumpets blare as being carried in on a throne is none other than the Malibu native herself, doing a Royal Wave while soaking in the negative reaction of the fans. As she is carried out she looks at Angel and Saul with a look of disgust on her face looking down her nose at them. Angel’s reaction, however, is no different than usual, as “The Kid” scrunches up her face and shakes her head dismissively.
“Bianca remains unimpressed by the Queen’s antics, but we shall see who prevails here in the end…”
“The Queen will, of course, Lucas. That’s why she is the Queen” comes Deltzer’s response.
“Yes, but she is also fighting in a dress and heels, which can’t be practical.” It is Abby’s turn to speak up. “I mean, Angel’s in jeans and sneakers. That’s the right idea. I’m sure Bianca must have at least ONE shirt and pair of pants other than her wrestling ones she could have used…”
As the announcers debate each fighter’s odds, Bianca is seen yelling at the stage hand to climb up the steps to hold open the ropes for her. Only after he makes his way up and does just that does the Queen make her up the steps and enter the ring, where she smugly poses soaking in the boos, as she gives everyone a good glimpse before she heads to her corner taking off her crown and handing to one of her entourage, then undoing her cape and handing it off along with her sceptre. She then leans into the corner scoffing at her opponent disgusted she is even sharing a ring with them, before stepping forward and demanding Angel bend the knee. This, predictably, elicits a scoffing reaction from the Angeleña, who not only does not bend the knee, but actively signals for Saul to get her a microphone. When one is passed up to her, she holds up the nearly empty bucket still in her hand, for all of The Globe to see.
“See this right here? This right here is chicken.”
She tosses the last couple of pieces in the bucket to Saul – who wastes no time tucking into them – before turning back to the Queen, her smirk widening as she points at her opponent.
“And this right here? This right here is chickens—t!”
With that, she flips the bucket upside down and stuffs it over Bianca’s head, to the delight of the fans in attendance! The Queen is, predictably, less amused, shrieking as she stumbles around, groping as if looking for something to hold on to. Also predictably, Angel wastes no time capitalising, dropping down for a Russian leg sweep which lands Bianca on her behind on the mat!
With her foe down, Angel wastes no time calling out to Saul to ‘pass that microphone’; however, her partner is otherwise engaged, as the moment the Queen hits the mat, her entire entourage surges forward. Saul is therefore forced to step in front of them and get into a fighting stance, reckoning (correctly, as it turns out) that none of them is a fighter, and therefore, none of them will dare engage him. This does not, however, prevent the ever faithful Simple Simon from heeding his now soggy-haired and enraged Queen’s demands the moment she gets to her feet, and throwing the Royal Sceptre into the ring. Seeing this, and knowing he will have no time to intercept, Saul does the next best thing, unwittingly complying with his partner’s wishes as he throws Chekhov’s Microphone into the ring, all while calling out for her to pay attention.
And not a moment too soon, as it turns out, as no sooner is the sceptre in Bianca’s hand than she seeks to use it to hurt Angel; warned by her partner, the youth is, however, able to parry the blow (though just about) and quickly explore the opening, jabbing the microphone into Bianca’s exposed midsection! The strike is more surprising than impactful, but nevertheless sufficient to send the Malibu blonde reeling back a couple of steps, putting Angel out of danger for the time being. Knowing she does not have much time, however, the Latina promptly tosses the mic back over the ropes, freeing up both her hands to make a grab for the sceptre; Bianca, however, holds onto it tooth and nail, and the two promptly engage in a heated tug-of-war in the centre of the ring…
…which ends when Angel stomps on Bianca’s foot, causing her to cry out and release her grip on the weapon in her hand! She make a desperate grab for it, but Angel is quicker, grabbing the stick, then safety-rolling away from her opponent and kipping up a few feet away, in a fluid motion which gets an appreciative reaction from the crowd in attendance – as well as the commentators.
“Impressive athleticism from Angel Ramirez, who has been acquitting herself very well so far.”
Deltzer, however, is not inclined to agree with his older broadcast partner. “Scraping by, you mean, Lucas. Besides, she’s only making it worse for herself. She is making Her Majesty angry. And you wouldn’t like her when she’s angry…”
If this is, indeed, the case, then Angel is in for a big surprise, as she is now going out of her way to rile up Queen Bianca, dodging out of the way of every charge the blonde makes for her sceptre, sometimes with a flourish. The crowd get into this, and begin chanting ‘Olé!’ with each successive dodge, bringing that trademark grin to Angel’s features. However, her success has the inevitable effect of making her too cocky – or perhaps she just telegraphs one of her moves a little too much – and Bianca is able to make a grab for the weapon mid-charge, throwing her opponent off-balance. It is Angel’s turn to go sprawling, as Bianca recovers what is rightfully hers.
“Uh-oh…watch this, Lucas. Now she’s going to be in for it!”
And indeed, no sooner has she recovered the weapon than the Queen is charging at her opponent, swinging it in a horizontal motion. Caught mid-kip up, Angel is just quick enough to stop herself in a bent-over-backwards position, effectively limbo-ing under the strike! The crowd lose their collective minds at this display of ability, but Angel is not done yet, as she then ducks under the reverse strike and limbos back the other way – this time, on purpose, and with all of the theatrics! She then directs a smirk at the incredulous Queen, all while chanting a Conga rhythm directly in her face, bringing another huge reaction from the crowd.
“Angel is perhaps getting a bit TOO cocky here…She’d better not let herself go, or it could cost her…”
Abby’s wise prediction is proven a moment later, when Bianca directs a poke at her opponent’s eyes, then profits from the split-second distraction to finally hit Angel over the head with her sceptre, sending the Latina reeling sideways into the far turnbuckle!
“WHAT A HIT!” Deltzer is practically standing up in excitement. “That kid has to be out cold!”
“Not quite.” Abby is seen peering into the ring, as the camera momentarily pans to the announce table. “She’s still hanging in there…just about…”
Indeed, though dazed and bleeding from the side of her head, the Latina is still conscious enough to stand – a situation Bianca seeks to change, as she charges her foe again, once again landing a blow to the side of her head. Angel, who had just begun to make her way out of the corner and along the ropes, is sent hurtling over them to the floor, now seeming well and truly unconscious.
The moment the teenager hits the floor, Saul forgoes his guard duties to run to his partner’s side. After checking Angel’s pulse and eyes, he then begins to shake her, attempting to revive her. Bianca’s associates are clearly considering a joint attack when Saul decides on more desperate measures. Making a dash to the announce table, he grabs all three of the announcers’ bottles of water, emptying one of them in the direction of Bianca’s entourage as he begins to run the other way. The distraction has the desired effect of leaving the Queen’s servants gasping, blinking and collecting their bearings, thus giving Saul enough time to dunk another full bottle’s worth over his partner’s head!
Once again, the desired end is achieved, as Angel promptly revives, shooting into a seated position as she splutters and coughs. Saul, a huge grin of relief on his features, gives her a moment to recover, then urges her to an upright position, making her aware of the situation, and guides her towards the apron. A soaked-through and still half-conscious Angel therefore manages to roll back into the ring a moment later, pausing only to take one last breather before pulling herself upright.
“Great awareness there by Saul Morgan to help his partner…”
“Well, he has Marine training, Lucas. I assume you develop an instinct for this sort of thing in the Military…”
“Quite possibly, Abby. Tell you what, though, Bianca better get back in gear quick, or it’s going to cost her!”
Indeed, all throughout the count, the Queen has had her back turned and her focus squarely on the crowd, whom she is hotdogging and grandstanding to, much to their disapproval. Their reaction suddenly changes, however, as a now definitely conscious Angel sneaks up behind the Malibu blonde, yanks her hair, and pulls the sceptre from her hand!
“Called it!”
“Shut up, Quinn.” Mark Deltzer’s tone is as acerbic as the Queen’s glare as she once again finds herself on the floor, this time pinned down to the mat by her own sceptre, which Angel is using as a weight on the Queen’s fanned-out hair! The Latina herself is bent over the back of her opponent’s head, clearly enjoying herself as she trash-talks down to the Queen. A moment later, however, she is once again focused on the task at hand, as she stomps on Bianca’s hair several times, causing her to scream and bringing Powell over to admonish her. Angel does not take well to this, promptly pointing out that there are “no rules in a Street Fight, holmes”, but nonetheless complies, pacing back a few steps to allow Bianca to recover, though not going as far as to hand her back her sceptre.
“You know, she has a point…there ARE no rules in a Street Fight. I guess this was more of a question of sportswomanship than anything else…”
“Yes, Abby…the question is, would Bianca have done the same if the roles were reversed?”
Quinn’s question goes unanswered, however, as the moment Bianca is back upright, Angel is on offence again – and ready to hand her the receipt from earlier with a sceptre swing of her own! It is Bianca’s turn to go sprawling into the ropes, and the Latina rushes in with a big charge, which sends her opponent out of the ring and onto the floor, right in front of where her entourage is once again being held at bay by Saul. Unlike the Queen, however, Angel is not about to stand around gloating, instead promptly backing up to gain momentum, before taking a big dive over the ropes, and onto the assembled Court on the outside!
“WHAT A DIVE by Angel Ramirez!” It is now Allie’s turn to stand up out of her chair, enthralled by the goings-on.
“Yeah, well, if she can’t follow up on it, it’s just flashy flippy s—t…” Ever the sore loser, Mark Deltzer nevertheless has a point, as the tumble appears to have taken its toll on Angel, too; fortunately, Saul was not only quick enough to get out of the way once he realized what was about to happen, but also still in possession of one of the three bottles of water he pilfered earlier, which he wastes no time emptying over Angel’s face, The Latina comes up spluttering once again, and The Tramp grins.
“To clear your head a bit…”
A playful middle finger is Angel’s only response to the quip, as she assesses the situation, locks eyes with Saul, acknowledges his nod, then bends over to pick the Queen up from amid her still unconscious subjects. Bianca stirs a little as she is brought up to a vertical position, but Angel takes it upon herself to wake her back up fully when she throws her against the nearby guard rail! Front-row fans hastily back up as the Queen comes crashing into the barrier, while Angel shares a high-five with Saul and hands him the sceptre, for safekeeping. Saul is heard asking if she needs any help or wants him to stay with her, but Angel waves him off, merely telling him to hold onto the weapon in his hand for a while. As such, the former Marine quickly returns to his original position guarding the Queen’s Court, while his youthful partner takes off in the opposite direction, away from the ring and towards the barricade.
“She’s…giving away the weapon?” Deltzer can barely hide his disbelief. “In a STREET FIGHT?! And she says she has EXPERIENCE in them?”
“I’m sure she had a good reason. Right, Allie?”
“Don’t ask me, Lucas. I’m a bit surprised myself… But, I’m not the one out there fighting. And I’m not in Angel’s head to know her strategy…”
“You don’t need to be in her head, Allie.” Deltzer’s tone is as snide as ever. “That’s not where her strategy is. It’s up the other end. At least that’s where she’s been pulling all of her stuff out of up until now…”
“Well, it’s been working, though…”
Indeed, the Latina still has the upper hand, as she once again grabs Bianca and smashes her head into the barrier; however, her hand slips on the Queen’s hair, still greasy from the BBQ chicken, and she ends up unwittingly giving Bianca an opening, which her opponent promptly explores, driving an elbow into the teenager’s midsection, then pulling herself upright and grabbing Angel’s own hair, screaming like a banshee! The younger fighter attempts to break loose with a well-placed stomp to Bianca’s naked foot, but – while the strategy does work – is unable to prevent herself from being tossed into the very same guardrail she was intending to throw the Queen into! Fans on this side of the entranceway are, therefore, also forced to hastily make room, as the Queen comes marching up, murder in her eyes, grabs Angel and tosses her across once again, screeching “KNOW YOUR PLACE, PEASANT!”
“I warned about making the Queen mad…didn’t I warn about it?”
“Yes, Mark. You did. And it seems you were right.”
“Thank you, Lucas. Hear that, Allie? I was RIGHT.”
Allie does not, however, rise up to the bait, instead merely ‘oof’ing as Angel gets thrown into one of the beams supporting the entrance structure, then has her head rammed into it until blood starts gushing out. This has the predictable effect of making her dizzy and woozy, and she is therefore easy pickings for Bianca, stumbling right into a Queen’s Makeover facebuster, right on the concrete! The fans’ gasps somehow do not manage to drown out Bianca’s screech of ‘COUNT IT!!!’, which Powell promptly obliges to, as the Queen covers!
ONE!
TWO!
TH—NO!!
“Still some fight left in that little alley cat!” Lucas’ relieved tone matches the crowd’s reaction, even if their favourite is still far too groggy to acknowledge it – not to mention, at her opponent’s mercy. Knowing this, Bianca promptly brings ‘The Kid’ to her feet and pulls her down by the hair into a backbreaker, further wearing her down.. She covers again!
ONE!
TWO!
—NO!
By this point, Angel is beginning to shake off the cobwebs, and when Bianca next goes to set her up for a move, manages to fight back with some weak punches, then a decidedly not weak headbutt, which sends the Queen reeling backwards. Sensing her opportunity, Angel rushes in with a shoulder tackle, which throws the Queen off the platform and onto the middle of the audience; not wasting another moment, Angel promptly dives off the platform herself, to hit Bianca with a flying elbow drop! She covers, and Powell – still on top of the platform and looking down at the two women – kneels down to count.
ONE!
—NO!
“Yeah…no. Not with an elbow drop…”
“It was worth a try, Mark. Besides, it will have worn down Bianca, at the very least…”
As Lucas jumps into the discussion to side with his female counterpart, Angel brings Bianca to her feet and promptly begins to lay into her with punches, each rocking the Queen back a little further; to her credit, Bianca does her best to respond in kind, though she finds herself being driven progressively further and further backwards through the crowd, which parts like the Red Sea to let the two brawling women through. No soda cup, hot dog or bag of chips is safe, as Angel and Bianca stumble their way through, focusing on nothing but one another, and inflicting as much pain to their opponent as possible.
“This one’s going out of bounds!” Despite his dislike of one of the competitors involved in the match, The Mark remains true to his name, barely bothering to conceal his excitement with the slugfest currently at hand, which is rapidly making its way to the end of the floor and towards the hallways of Studio 43. Indeed, no more than a minute or so after entering the floor-standing section, the two women disappear through one of the many admission doors scattered around the arena. The following few minutes are, therefore, collated from a mixture of security camera footage and conveniently placed camerapeople, which gets synced with the venue’s giant flatscreen, allowing fans in attendance as well as at home to continue following the action.
‘Action’ may, actually, be too tame of a name for what is transpiring backstage; ‘ultraviolence’ might be a more suitable term. Indeed, the brawl appears to have escalated into the wrestling equivalent of a final fight scene from a Marvel or DC film, as each woman attempts to smash the other onto as much of the surrounding environment as possible; and while equipment crates are, by and large, sturdy enough to withstand a hundred-odd pound impact, merch and concession vendors are seen hastily gathering their wares, lest their stalls be chosen as the next target – which does end up occurring on a couple of occasions.
Eventually, the two women’s rage-blind attempts at offence end up extrapolating the concourse, however, as the two stumble in through a door – still trading punches, slaps, shin-kicks and hair pulls, as is wont of any street fight worthy of that name – and find themselves inside the women’s toilets! Whatever surprise this causes is, however, exceedingly brief, as the two promptly begin attempting to take advantage of THAT environment, as well. Angel rams Bianca against the hand dryer, which clatters with a loud CLANG!, but it is the Queen who gains the upper hand during this period, as she drags her opponent towards one of the stalls and – after first banging her head against the door, and then slamming the door on her head – shoves her in and pushes her down onto a kneeling position. From there,she channels her inner high-school mean girl to push Angel’s head into the toilet bowl just as she flushes, gleefully yelling ‘BEND THE KNEE!!!’ as she effectively gives the very first swirlie in the History of sports entertainment!
This milestone feat accomplished, the Queen brings her opponent’s head up by the hair – Angel spluttering and gasping for air – and prepares to dunk her in again; Angel, however, is quicker this time around, spewing toilet-bowl water onto the Queen’s face, then – as she screeches in disgust – forcing her down to her knees and promptly returning the favor! She then brings the still stunned and screeching Bianca – whose inability to stop screaming has left her choking on a mouthful of flushed water – and throws her across the room into the sink area, where she once again pushes the Queen’s head down (this time, onto one of the sink bowls) before turning one of the taps on at full power – the one with the RED dot marking! Bianca screeches and splutters as a wave of hot water descends upon her, cleaning out the gunk in her hair, but also scalding her face! She claws like a she-devil, no longer caring which part of Angel she hurts, but it is her involuntarily thrashing legs which do the damage, as she bucks them straight into the Latina’s pelvis!
Angel screams and releases her hold momentarily, allowing Bianca to pull herself upright, glaring at Angel like an apparition in a horror movie, before living up to the comparison by lunging at her, yowling like a banshee. Seeing this vision from Hell barrelling down on her, the youngster does what any sensible person might do – turn on her heels and run out the bathroom door! On her way out, she presses a finger to her lips, asking referee Powell – who is respectfully stationed outside the door – for secrecy before diving behind a pile of crates. Thus, when Bianca gets outside, there is no sign of her opponent anywhere, nor will referee Powell respond to the blonde’s screeching demands to be told where “that peasant” is.
The Malibu Queen – her poise forgotten along with the put-on British accent, and her face a mascara-streaked mask of hatred – is therefore forced to take on the role of the Velociraptors in what amounts to an arena-corridor version of the iconic kitchen scene in ‘Jurassic Park’, as she cautiously stalks the surrounding area, scanning for any sign of her opponent. Eventually, and perhaps inevitably, she finds herself peering behind the mountain of crates Angel was seen hiding behind…but the Latina is one step ahead, carefully coming around the opposite side of the structure and gaining Bianca’s back; before she knows it, the Queen is therefore being pulled down into a rollup, which referee Powell is at hand to count!
ONE!
TW—the Queen kicks out, and angrily at that!
The moment Bianca shakes the pin loose, Angel is scrambling to her feet and putting some distance between herself and the Queen. She dives behind a nearby concession stand – one the owner has not been quick enough to salvage – and begins to grab cans of bratwurst sausage, hoarding them in her arms as she fends off the stall owner’s objections with a promise to “come back and pay for ’em!” Before the hapless man can put a word in edgewise, his former tins of sausages are being used as projectiles to stop the oncoming Queen in her tracks!
While the first couple land, however, Bianca soon dodges the attack by shoving an unfortunate and totally unrelated passerby onto the path of the projectiles, effectively using him as a human shield as she ducks around his side and charges Angel. Caught unawares, the Latina is unable to react fast enough, and soon finds herself rammed against a nearby wall, her stash of ‘ammunition’ scattering all over the surrounding area. All, that is, but one single can, which the Latina promptly uses to bash the Queen over the head, throwing her off just enough for the teenager to wiggle out of her predicament and throw Bianca against the same wall herself! She then grabs the blonde by the lapels and flings her towards a nearby door, before rushing in with a shoulder charge…
…which sends both of them toppling onto the Studio 43 parking lot!
Fortunately, no cars are moving at that moment, although the two women DO topple a parked motorbike with their momentum. Only the briefest of acknowledgements is paid to this, however or the fact that they are outside at all – as the two are much too busy clawing at one another, in what has devolved from a semblance of a wrestling match into what certain prominent figures in the business might refer to as a “CATFIIIIIGHT!”
This ends when Angel – screaming as her eyes get gauged by Bianca – drives two knees into the Queen’s gut, prying the blonde’s fingers from her eyeballs long enough to connect with a headbutt, then – as the Queen topples sideways – roll out from under her. She begins to pull herself upward, but Bianca makes a grab for her leg, causing her to faceplant onto the concrete, and forcing her to kick out blindly with her other leg. A crunch, a scream and a loosening of the blonde’s grip indicate the blow has landed, as Angel scrambles to her feet and pauses a moment to take a look around and assess her options. She eventually appears to settle on a plan, and once again puts some distance before herself and Queen B; as such, when the blonde pushes herself to her feet to give chase, there is once again no sign of her opponent. Bianca is therefore left to seethe with rage as she scans her immediate surroundings, before a whistling sound causes her to instinctively look up…straight at the her smirking opponent, who is standing on top of a nearby 4×4! Angel pauses only to give her a sarcastic little finger-wave before launching off with a missile dropkick, which pushes the Queen back down onto the hard tarmac!
Blotting out the high-pitched sound of the car alarm (surprisingly, the only consequence of her stunt, with the vehicle suffering no damage) Angel pauses only long enough to ensure referee Powell has managed to keep up with the brawl – he has – before running across to the opposite row of cars, selecting one which happens to be facing outwards, leaping onto its hood, and springboarding into perhaps the only wrestling move she has truly managed to master – the split-legged moonsault known as Fallin’ Angel…
…WHICH GETS COUNTERED IN MID-AIR BY A BRAZILIAN KICK FROM BIANCA!!! The Red Bottom Shot connects flush, and the teenager crumples in an unconscious heap on the tarmac!
Rather than cover, however, Bianca simply takes a minute to compose herself – as much as her grimy, slimy, bloodied, scratched, dishevelled, makeup-smeared, torn-clothed appearance can be ‘composed’, anyway – before disdainfully instructing Powell to “like, count it!” Deeming it unlikely that Angel will recover in the next few seconds, the hefty official does just this, beginning the standard ten-count required to declare a TKO, all while filming it on his smartphone, for evidence.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
SIX!
As he reaches the count of SEVEN, however, he is surprised to see the seemingly knocked-out teenager begin to stir.
At EIGHT, she is rolling over onto her side and ever-so-gingerly pulling herself onto one elbow…
…And by NINE she has managed to struggle onto a seated position!
The last number in the sequence therefore gets stuck in the stunned, bug-eyed Powell’s throat, as the Latina once again puts a finger in front of her lips, pointing two fingers towards her eyes in the universal sign for “watch this”. Then, after once again assessing the situation, and seeing Bianca a few yards away, still oblivious, she ducks down behind the nearest row of cars, running parallel to the Queen’s trajectory all the way to the end, where a Monster Truck invitingly offers it hood for climbing onto. This takes the teenager significantly more of a struggle than it might normally have, the Queen’s shot having managed to take a toll, but Angel is nonetheless able to clamber up to the roof of the car in time to once again surpise the Queen – this time, by unwittingly setting off the car alarm in the exact moment Bianca is walking by! The Queen gives off a little scream and takes a step to the side, twisting her body to see where the sound is coming from…which is all the opening Angel needs. The Latina once again launches off with a picture-perfect moonsault, and this time – the Queen being too surprised to react in time – the move connects, taking both wrestlers back down to the ground again!
Powell comes darting across the parking lot, but Angel is in no hurry to cover. Instead, she takes a page out of Bianca’s book, simply quipping “TKO, bro!” as she begins to walk back towards Studio 49. A stunned Powell queries whether she is going to cover, but Angel simply repeats “TKO, bro!” over her shoulder, not so much as stopping on her tracks to acknowledge the official. As such, and after a shrug, Powell once again whips out his smartphone, filming Bianca’s prone body as he counts.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
He keeps a lookout for any signs of stirring from the Queen, but none occur.
EIGHT!
Was that a slight twitch? Or just a muscle spasm?
NINE!
Bianca’s body goes limp again, the spasm having seemingly passed. Powell therefore confirms what Angel knew all along, by counting…
TEN!
He then pulls out a walkie-talkie from his belt loop and transmits the match result to – presumably – the timekeeper inside the arena. A moment later, the echoes of a huge cheer float out from somewhere within Studio 43, indicating Angel’s win has been made official.
The match winner herself is, however, not yet all the way back to the Globe – instead coolly walking past some of the other venues within the huge complex – when she is forced to duck, as a gaggle of men go rushing past her, headed for the outside. Angel pales when she recognises Queen Bianca’s court, and her leisurely, casual stroll becomes a run as she dashes back to ringside at full pelt.
Before she has made it all the way back, however, she stops short, a grin of relief spreading across her features at the sight of her partner – battered, limping a little, but otherwise unharmed. Saul himself returns the grin as he sees her.
“Did we win?”
“Duh. Tol’ja. Street fights my thing, holmes.” Then, for once forgoing her too-cool-for-school attitude, she dives in for a hug – one Saul unabashedly returns, and which is broken up only by the arrival of Aaron Powell, who takes in the scene but offers no comment, instead simply addressing Angel.
“C’mon, kid. Come get your arm raised.”
“Nah, fam, We good. I already got my arm raised.” Angel uses her free arm to point to the one Saul is holding up in the air; Powell, however, is adamant, and with some encouragement from Saul, Angel finally acquiesces to follow the official back to the Globe, her partner walking a few steps behind.
Inside the arena, a hero’s welcome awaits Angel, who pauses by the curtain to soak in the roar of the crowd before taking off in a full-pelt victory lap down the entranceway and all around the ring, slapping hands and getting cuffed over the head by the ecstatic fans in attendance. As such, it takes another long moment before the Latina teenager finally makes it back into the ring, to officially have her arm raised by the match official and her tag team partner, and her name shouted out by “Downtown” Jason Brown.
“What. A. Match.” Allie is still somewhat stunned by what she has just witnessed.
“Indeed, Ally. It was long, it was grueling, it was bowling-shoe ugly, but she did it.” Lucas Quinn sounds to all the world like a proud father as he comments on the bout that just ended. “Tonight, this young teenage girl lived up to her promise, and proved herself a name to watch out for and reckon with.”
“I hate to admit it, but…yeah. Kid put some respect on her name. The Queen will bounce back, though, make no mistake about it.”
As Mark Deltzer offers perhaps his first show of true respect towards Angel, inside the ring, the dishevelled, bruised, but clearly radiant teenager herself continues to beam from ear to ear, basking in the glow of what she has accomplished, safe in the knowledge that, no matter what happens going forward, from that night onwards, GLOBAL is going to remember the name Angel Ramirez.
Winner: Angel Ramirez
The Joker & The Queen
A sound familiar to everyone, but one you might not be able to place, begins to play in the arena and across the car park speakers. It is the sound of half a dozen lutes and half a dozen recorders playing ‘Greensleeves’ in unison.
From behind the curtain in the arena a group of musicians appear, marching in sync with the music. They are arranged alternatively by instrument. A lute player, then a recordist, half a dozen men on each side of the entrance ramp. They are dressed in Elizabethan clothing, a cap adorning each of their heads, puffed trousers tucked into tight, long white socks. Each man is heavy-set and has a beard, as if they were at a Henry VIII lookalike competition. They begin to march down the ramp, towards the ring before surrounding the ring like lumberjacks.
Meanwhile, in the car park, a very similar thing is happening. A dozen men, all dressed in the same attire as the men at rinside, enter the car park in the same formation, playing their lutes and recorders. They march around Queen Bianca as she sits herself up, beaten and bruised from the match. She looks up at the strange men marching around her.
Her opponent having left the car park after celebrating the victory, she finds herself alone and being surrounded as the men walk around her, playing their song, each one of them looking down at her without a traceable emotion on their faces.
Then, without warning, the lights of the car park go out. A cars lights flick on to full beam, illuminating Bianca Davis.
Then, stepping between the light and Bianca, another person’s shadow appears. The silhouette casts a shadow showing a large hat with three points, each topped by a bell. From what Bianca can see, the man standing before her has his face painted white with black crosses painted across his eyes and thick, black paint around his lips. He is holding a plastic spectre in his left hand, and a microphone in his right. His entire outfit is coloured with bright yellows and reds, patched in places with green material.
The music stops in sync with The Jester stomping his foot on the floor and doing jazz hands.
“Ahhhhhhh!” he appears to be saying as he looks through the darkness down into the corner where ‘Queen’ Bianca Davis is sitting.
The lights come up in the car park as his jazz hands continue. Bianca is looking up at The Jester.
“I’m so sorry!” the shrill, simple voice of The Jester shrieks, “I am so, so sorry to learn of your loss, my queen!”
He takes a deep bow in her direction.
“I hast come to entertain thee, with tricks a plent-ee.” he rhymes, his voice like nails on a chalkboard.
He tosses the microphone and sceptre to one side and begins to cartwheel around Bianca, finishing up back where he started, landing on one knee, his head facing Bianca. He rises his head quickly and again gives Bianca another set of jazz hands.
“Ahhhhh!” he says, a big grin on his face and his tongue lapping out of his mouth.
The microphone lies at the feet of Bianca. She leans forward and picks it up.
Queen Bianca looks confused, as if she is unsure what she is seeing or hearing; the loss is already annoying her, but now having to deal with a clown? This can’t get any worse.
“I have one question… Who on Earth are you?” She asks, having scooped the microphone up and got to her feet, looking around at all the men who have come with him. She looks to be in shock.
The normally haughty Queen looks confused as she asks, “Seriously, your Queen is asking you a question, and I expect an answer. Who are you?!”
The Jester cartwheels around the car park once, twice, three times, completing three entire laps around Queen Bianca, who stands with her mouth hanging open, waiting for an answer. He lands right in front of her and leans into the microphone she is holding.
“From the castle of Bianca I be,
with magic for you to see.
And I bring with me,
For my Queen Bee…
PRANKS!”
The Jester opens his hand and blows. A huge puff of smoke and glitter blasts Queen Bianca in the face, causing her to cough and splutter.
“UGHHH WHAT THE HELL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”, she screams into the microphone.
The Jester looks shocked at his Queen screaming in his face. He holds his face in his hands and his shoulders jiggle up and down. He appears to be crying.
Suddenly, the lights go out in the arena and car park simultaneously.
A few seconds later the lights come back on. The Jester is gone. So too is his entourage.
Standing in the car park is Queen Bianca; solitary, sweaty, beaten, and confused. She looks around but finds nothing and nobody.
Don't Be Afraid To Let Them Go
We get text on the screen that says ‘LAST WEEK… AFTER CRUSADER X VS. DARREN BEST”
It switches to a close-up of The Informer’s face as he’s standing backstage, holding a microphone. He speaks into it. As he’s speaking, the camera zooms out to see Crusader X by his side. ‘I’m joined here by Crusader X after his shocking victory over Darren Best tonight. X, how are you feeling?”
Crusader X points back to the ring where he has just excelled, hyped and ecstatic. ‘Informer, I feel INCREDIBLE! Did you see that? This is what I’ve wanted. This is what professional wrestling is supposed to be.’
The Informer nods. ‘Now, for a bit, things looked like they got pretty heated out there.’
X nods. ‘They did. And I expected them to. Darren’s tough as iron and proud as they come. As he should be. When you’re wrestling someone like that, you need to be sharp, and you need to be ruthless. In this sport, every single opening your opponent gives you is a chance to get the win. You don’t get a lot of those openings when wrestling Darren Best, so I had to take every single chance I got tonight.’
The Informer gives a thoughtful ‘hmmm’. ‘What I noticed, though, is that at the end, even after all that, you two still shook hands. That surprised me. What are your feelings on Darren Best? Do you have any words for him?’
X turns and stares at the camera, as if addressing Darren directly. ‘Darren Best? You’re every bit the competitor they say you are. You’re every bit the wrestler I knew you were. It was an honor to face you. The only reason you lost is because you made one key mistake, and I capitalized. That happens to everyone. It’s happened to me more times than I can count. Those moments hurt at the time, but they mean a lot to me now. Those moments make us who we are as wrestlers. After this, I have no doubt in my mind that I’ll face you again and you’ll be an even tougher opponent than you were tonight. Hold your head high and be proud of what you’ve accomplished in this sport. Oh… and remember what we talked about.’
The Informer nods. “Thank you for your time-”
“X!” Someone shouts down the hallway in a cockney accent.
Alfie Button steps into frame.
“Alfie! I-”
Alfie is clearly upset. ‘What in ‘eaven’s name did you say ta Dazza earlier?’
The Informer bails, not that I blame him.
X waves his hand. ‘Oh, nothing, man! We were just talking about our match, why I’m here in GLOBAL, my offer to you, that kind of-
The cheeky Cockney turns uncharacteristically serious and Alfie cuts him off. ‘Nah, that ain’t gonna wash wiv me, pal. See I know Darren better than anyone in wrestling, so I know fine well ‘e wasn’t ‘imself out there and ‘asn’t been since ‘e spoke to ya. Coincidence? Plus, Darren didn’t wanna talk about what you ‘ad said to ‘im, so that tells me you said somefing to get in ‘is ‘ead. That’s what I reckon.’
X tilts his head. ‘Well… okay, to be honest, he wasn’t happy about my offer to you. He thinks that teaming with me is a bad idea that could get you tangled up in things.’
Button chuckles. ‘Well, yeah, I KNEW that. Dazza’s told me finks you’re bad news. So, what did ya say to ‘im?’
X pauses. ‘Well, I made him a wager. I said I’d take back my offer to you if I lost. And then I said that if I won… I wanted him to think about a few things.’
Alfie gets increasingly exasperated. ‘Okay, so what did you mean when you told ‘him to fink about what you said? You’re not makin’ any sense ‘ere.’
X shakes his head. ‘About what it means to be a wrestler. About where he could be in a sport free of parasites. Simple things! I wasn’t trying to get in his head.’
The Englishman’s eyes widen. ‘Yeah? Well, whatever you said, you did.”.
From there. Alfie gets up in his face and asks. “You know why I challenged you first instead of just teaming up with you? You’re a great wrestler, I can’t deny it, and we could definitely learn a fing or two from each ovver, no doubt. There’s just one problem. I don’t trust you, and ‘aven’t from the first minute I laid eyes on ya. Your offer, over-the-top friendly geezer attitude, then ya threaten Kid, I reckon you did the same to Dazza. So, you’ve freatened two ov me best mates in wrestlin’, beaten them ‘andily and fair play to ya, and you’re still lying froo that mask ov yours, and I can see it from ‘ere. All ov this makes me want to ‘ave a fight wiv ya, not team up wiv ya. Know what I mean?’
X gets a fiery look in his eyes. He smiles in an almost… menacing manner. ‘Good. Bring that attitude to Magnum Opus. You’ll need it.’ he growls.
Alfie points his finger at Crusader. ‘See that, that right there, that’s the real Crusader X, innit? You’ve just shown your true colours…’
Amber Lee comes into frame. She has changed into her ring gear ahead of facing Kid Chameleon later on, but is clearly happy to see Alfie again in the meantime. ‘Alfie, hey!’
She notices X.
“…Oh. It’s you.”
X smiles. ‘Amber Lee! I don’t think we’ve met officially. Really impressive victory out there. Congratulations.’ X offers her his hand.
Amber looks X up and down, shakes her head, and then accepts it. ‘I should probably shake your hand now, because I may not be able to once Alfie is finished with you.’
Crusader X nods his head bullishly. ‘Confidence. That’s what I love about everyone’s favorite GLOBAL Power Couple. Well, Miss Lee, a pleasure. Alfie, always.’
Alfie thanks April. ‘Fanks for showin’ up when you did, and calmin’ me down. Right, where to start on Kid Chameleon? A slippery customer, if there ever were one.’
They walk down the hall, Alfie looking bad to see if Crusader X has indeed departed the scene, visibly creeped out by the charismatic and enigmatic masked marvel.
Alfie Button Vs. Crusader X
‘Let Me Entertain You’ by Button’s countryman, Robbie Williams, blares out, and the technicolor-coat-wearing Alfie Button emerges. His tights match, containing shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, all designed to test the pixels and resolution of your widescreen televisions, just as a wildlife documentary or Pixar feature film would. After high-fiving some fans close to the rampway, he sprints to the ring.
Lucas Quinn says, “Alfie Button has had a bit of a rollercoaster so far in GLOBAL. However, tonight a win here would give the London native a huge boost.”
The Mark sarcastically responds, “Not until Alfie sheds some weight … Shed Amber Lee off his back.”
When the blast of feedback at the start hits, the lights go out on the main stage. If there’s a screen, a black X on a white background goes up and flickers a bit. Once the guitar riff kicks in, CRUSADER X, also in black on a white background, appears onscreen. When the lyrics kick in, a spotlight shines on the center of the stage. In it is X, standing facing the crowd with his arms crossed above his head in an X. As he makes his way to the ring with an exaggerated stride, he high-fives every fan he can on the way there. Once he gets to the ring, he climbs every turnbuckle and poses with the X.
Lucas Quinn compliments X saying, “Crusader X has joined GLOBAL with a lot of fire and hype. He looks to keep his winning ways up with his biggest GLOBAL win yet.”
Alfie Button and Crusader X stand inside the ring as the assigned GLOBAL official runs through the rules of the match. The masked Crusader X glares across the London native. The official points to the timekeeper and calls for the opening bell.
DING, DING!!!
The Mark goes to the tale of the tape, “This is about as even statistically as you can get. Both men come in at five foot ten and weigh just under two hundred pounds.”
Alfie Button extends his hand, offering a sign of respect. Crusader X hesitantly reaches out and slaps it. The two lightweights begin to circle the squared ring.
Allie adds, “Crusader X is on his crusade of brilliance, but there is a sign of respect between the two men.”
The two high flyers lock up in the center of the ring, and the masked superstar, Crusader X, places Alfie Button quickly into a side headlock for positioning. Button backs Crusader X back into the corner, gets loose, and comes up with a closed right fist, but Crusader X is quick on the defense tossing his hands up as the referee calls for a break.
Lucas Quinn says, “Some mind games by Crusader X as Alfie Button respects the rules and backs away.”
Crusader X storms out and, this time, grabs the arm of Alfie Button and begins to twist. Alfie Button goes down to one knee as Crusader X uses his boot to extend the pressure on Alfie’s arm.
The Mark compliments Crusader X, “Crusader X, while fast and talented, knows that Alfie Button may be the only one to match his high-flying impact wrestling style.”
Crusader X extends the arm as Alfie Button begins to roll and flip himself out of the arm lock, but as Alfie kips up, Crusader X holds that and drops down on top of him now with an armlock on the mat.”
Allie adds, “Crusader X playing some mid-games and keeping Alfie grounded simultaneously.”
Crusader X maneuvers Alfie Button on his stomach and extends the arm up with his knee raising his arms into an “X” symbol which fires the fans up, who boo. Crusader X then grabs that arm and brings Alfie Button back to his feet. He turns using his body and flips him over, holding that arm, but Button uses his legs and wraps them around the masked head of Crusader X with leg scissors. Crusader X breaks out, but Alfie locks a headlock on the seated masked Crusader X.
Lucas Quinn says, “Both men now controlling the early going of the match with technical holds. They both know it only takes one wrong move for either man to get rolling, which could spell trouble.”
Crusader X is back on his feet as Alfie Button hangs on to that side headlock. X pushes Button up against the ropes and sends him across. Alfie Button comes roaring off the ropes, taking the masked superstar down with a shoulder. Alfie then takes off again, hitting the ropes. Crusader X uses his legs on the mat to trip Button, who comes off the ropes, and the masked superstar quickly locks on an STF submission hold.
The Mark is impressed, saying, “I didn’t expect this game plan by Crusader X at all, Lucas. Crusader X can get as wild as a ping-pong ball, sometimes bouncing around. However, tonight he is taking things slower and looking for an opening keeping Alfie, who can get nearly as unpredictable close.”
Crusader X has transitioned back out and grabbed that arm, extending it again, keeping Alfie Button on his knees with one hand down on the mat. Both men slowly get back to their feet, and while holding that arm at an angle extended, Crusader X hits Alfie Button in the midsection with a knee. He lands a second knee. A third! Crusader X places his leg over the neck of Alfie Button and flips over, taking Alfie Button down with an arm-drag takedown.
Lucas Quinn compliments Crusader X, “Impressive takedown by Crusader X. Alfie Button grabs that arm as Crusader X soaks up some of the jeers by GLOBAL Nation.”
As Alfie Button begins to get back to his feet, Crusader X slows him down with a kick. He backs Button up against the ropes and sends him across. Crusader X bends down for a back body drop, but Alfie Button stops and gives the masked superstar a kick of his own! Alfie takes off, hitting the ropes, and Crusader X leaps with a high-leaping leapfrog. Alfie Button rebounds and leaps over Crusader X, who has dropped to his stomach. Crusader X hops back up and goes for a standing dropkick, but Alfie Button is ready and uses his arms in the ropes to stop himself.
Allie says, “Big heads up by Alfie Button.”
Alfie Button is shaking his arm from the earlier damage, and as Crusader X gets up, he goes for a roundhouse kick, but Crusader X ducks under it. Crusader X uses Alfie’s momentum and sends him over the ropes, but Alfie Button lands on the outside ring apron. Crusader X turns and notices Alfie Button springboarding. As Crusader X hits the ropes for extra speed, Alfie Button drops down in the ring and leapfrogs a charging masked Crusader X. Crusader X rebounds and hops over Alfie Button, who now has dropped to his stomach. Crusader X rebounds and eats a dropkick right into the masked face.
Lucas Quinn says, “Anything you can do, I can do better says ALFIE!”
As the fans cheer him on, Alfie Button hops up, fired up. Crusader X crawls over, using the ropes to get to his knees. Alfie Button helps him up and gives him a stiff knife-edge chop across his chest.
THWAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!
Crusader X stumbles across the ring holding his chest. Alfie Button grabs the masked superstar and pulls him in, landing a big European uppercut. Button grabs the head of Crusader X and takes him down with a headlock takedown. Then pops up and gives a stiff kick to the mid-back of Crusader X. Alfie button pulls X up by his mask, and Crusader X tries to punch Button in the midsection, but Alfie Button drives down a big elbow on the back of Crusader X’s head. Alfie goes to capitalize, but Crusader X takes the feet from Button. Crusader X is now on the attack, but Alfie Button with a kip-up head scissors takedown!
Allie says, “Look at the style of Alfie Button. He is on point with his moves.”
Alfie Button helps Crusader X up again, taking the masked superstar down with a vicious snap suplex.
THUD!
Still, on the attack, Alfie Button helps Crusader X back up and pushes him up against the ropes. He goes to send X across, but Crusader X reverses it. Alfie Button leaps on the ropes, and as Crusader X comes behind him, Button turns and leaps with a springboard flying body press.
ONE!
TWO!
…Crusader X with a strong kick out. Not ready to slow down, Alfie Button lands a leaping poisoned frankensteiner on Crusader X. He follows it up with a standing shooting star press, landing directly on the masked superstar for another cover.
ONE!
TWO!
…Crusader X again fires a shoulder out, stopping the cover.
Lucas Quinn says, “Alfie Button is speeding this match up to his comfort level. Crusader X will have to start matching him move for the move if he wants to survive tonight.”
Alfie Button, now with the momentum springboards again, hits the moonsault press. Not staying with the pin, he pulls Crusader X back up and goes for another suplex, but this time Crusader X blocks it and slows things down with a small package.
ONE!
TWO!
… Alfie fires out. Both men are up, but Crusader X ducks under a charging forearm. X leaps with an impressive vertical leap, landing on the turnbuckles, then turns and leaps out, hitting a side hurricanrana.
The Mark shouts, “You have awakened Crusader X!”
Crusader X now pulls Alfie up and begins to return the favor landing a brutal overhand chop.
THWAP!
THWAP!
Alfie Button stumbles and begins eating a series of kicks… Low kick, low kick, and a roundhouse kick by Crusader X. Alfie Button, now barely on his feet, is taken down by a standing neckbreaker by the masked superstar.
Lucas Quinn says, “Crusader X is so flawless with his moves. He moves around the ring like a cat, always landing on his feet.”
Crusader X smells blood, grabs the legs Button, and flips over into a bridging pinning position.
ONE!
TWO!
… Alfie Button powers out. Crusader X kips up, showing off as the fans boo. He springboards as Alfie slowly gets up and hits a kick right to the side of Button’s head.
CRRAAAAACK!
Allie comments, “You heard that kick through the arena.”
Crusader X mockingly lays back on top of Alfie Button, nonchalantly pinning him.
ONE!
…Button shoves Crusader X off, and this time BOTH men kip up and are face-to-face.
Lucas Quinn says, “Looks like Crusader X fired up Alfie Button!”
FIST FLY… GLOBAL NATION IS ON ITS FEET!
The Mark comments, “A high-flying wrestling match was happening, and a brawl broke out.”
Alfie Button goes for a powerbomb position and lifts Crusader X, but Crusader X leaps and lands behind him. Crusader X shoves Alfie Button into the corner and follows suit leaping up into an enziguri to the side of Button’s skull. Crusader X lifts Button and drops him down with a brainbuster. He hooks the leg!
ONE!
TWO!
…Button kicks out. With a spinning roundhouse kick to the sitting Button, Crusader X again drops down for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
…Button kicks out. Crusader X slams his hand on the mat, trying to tell the official to count faster.
Lucas Quinn says, “Two near quick falls by Crusader X. However, X thinks that last one should have been three.”
While X complains, Alfie Button continues to work to his feet, and the masked superstar turns to continue his onslaught but eats a standing superkick.
SMAAAACKKKK!!!
Crusader X stumbles, and Button lands a DDT on the kneeling masked superstar!
THUUUUUD!!!
Allie comments, “Ay… It’s a superkick followed by The Weakest Link! Alfie always has such cute names for his moves!”
Instead of making the cover. Alfie Button calls for the masked superstar to get to his feet, and as Crusader X obliges… Alfie Button springboards off the ropes and lands a flying chuck kick!
SMMMAAAAACCCKKK!!!
Lucas Quinn shouts out, “Red Button! Alfie just landed that devastating kick!”
Alfie crawls over and makes the cover!
ONE!
.
.
TWO!
.
.
.
THR–
Crusader X kicks out just before the final slap. The fans erupt, thinking the match is over, but the referee leaps up, holding two fingers.
Lucas Quinn says, “So close for the English superstar! Alfie almost ended things with that kick.”
Alfie Button feeds off the fan’s energy, cheers, and near-victory hops over the ropes and sets up for the Season Finale – 720 DDT.
The Mark nervously mentions, “Crusader X may have kicked out of the Red Button, but the Season Finale is a different story.”
Crusader X slowly gets up, shaking the cobwebs, seemingly unsure of where Alfie is. The English native leaps up and springboards off the ropes, but before he can wrap that arm around X’s head, Alfie eats a standing superkick counter.
SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!
The counter deflates the hopes and dreams of GLOBAL Nation. The impact of the kick brings Crusader X down to one knee as he continues to shake the fog from the earlier damage.
Lucas Quinn continues to call the action saying, “Alfie was seconds away from hitting the Season Finale and picking up the victory. X showed why it takes everything PLUS the kitchen sink to defeat him.”
The cheers start to pick up again as both men reach their feet. Alfie Button hits a European Uppercut that rocks Crusader X. Crusader X charges out of the corner, ducks another big right by Alfie Button, and locks himself around the back of Alfie Button like a boa. He uses his momentum and lands a crucifix bomb.
Allie marvels saying, “Both of these men are so fast and agile. When you think they are about to gain some momentum, something like this changes the whole pace of the match.”
Crusader X now hops back up on the top ropes. He flashes the mighty “X” sign but notices Alfie moving. Instead of hitting his corkscrew moonsault, he flips off behind Button, who is on his feet, and lands a jarring thrust kick. Crusader X pulls the stunned Alfie Button forward, raises his arms again, making that “X” symbol, and lands a devastating Canadian Destroyer!
THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!
The Mark shouts, “X Marks the spot! Crusader X just hit an amazing Parasite’s End!”
ONE!
.
.
.
TWO!
.
.
THREE!
… Shocking POP as the referee notices Alfie Button’s boot on the bottom rope before slapping the mat. Crusader X raises his arm, thinking the match has been won, but the official is waving off the finish trying to explain.
Lucas Quinn shouts, “What a veteran move by Alfie Button. He may have seen stars but had enough veteran awareness to find the ropes. Crusader X doesn’t seem happy as the referee pleads with him, explaining what happened.”
The masked superstar glares at the official, pointing to his shoe, trying to explain what happened. Alife Button has now started to slowly use the ropes to pull himself up to his feet, barely able to stand. The fans shout – ALFIE!!! ALFIE!!! ALFIE!!! This further irritates Crusader X, who turns and charges toward Button, who is against the ropes. Button ducks and the masked superstar’s momentum sends Crusader X tumbling over the top ropes.
Allie notices that X is in a bad spot saying, “Crusader X is at a huge disadvantage now. Alfie takes off!”
And Allie is right; Alfie Button, fighting through a mild concussion at the very least, hits the ropes and dives through the bottom rope into a tornado DDT, sending Crusader X head-first into the outside cement!
CRRRRAAAAAAACCCKKKKK!!!!!
Lucas Quinn is shouting over the screaming pop of GLOBAL Nation, saying, “ALFIE JUST JUMPED THE SHARK!”
The fans continue to chant – ALFIE! ALFIE! ALFIE! The referee has rolled out, checking both men on the cement floor outside.
The Mark says, “Usually, the referee goes right into the count, but when there is a safety concern, that won’t happen until all parties’ safety is checked.”
The GLOBAL official has rolled back in the ring and started the daunted ten count. Alfie Button and Crusader X start to work their way to their feet. Button throws a half-powered right hand that Crusader X no sells. Alfie Button notices the ring apron and leaps, springboarding into a reverse elbow!
BAM!
Crusader X stays on his feet amazingly and lands a desperation roundhouse kick to the temple of Alfie taking him down. Crusader X smells blood and, like an agile cat, races up outside the ring and launches into a picture-perfect Asai Moonsault as Alfie slowly gets up!
HOLY ! HOLY ! HOLY !
HOLY ! HOLY ! HOLY !
HOLY ! HOLY ! HOLY !
Lucas Quinn mentions, “Alfie and Crusader X using the ropes and outside of the ring to their advantage! Crusader X now rolls Aflie Button back inside the ring, just beating that ten count.”
Crusader X finds himself back on the ring apron, and as Alfie gets to his feet, he springboards up and goes for a DDT, but Alfie uses Crusader X’s momentum backward and counters into a spine-buster-looking counter.
THUD!
Alfie drops down forward, pinning Crusader X!
ONE!
.
.
TWO!
…KICK OUT!
The Mark asks, “What will it take for one of these men to pin one another? They are pulling out high spot after high spot and SURVIVING!”
Alfie Button slowly begins the climb to the top rope. The fans are on their feet, cheering on the fan favorite. He leaps – FROG SPLASH!
…KNEES UP BY X!
CRAAAACK!!!!
Allie sympathizes, “That can dislocate a rib!”
Alfie Button rolls on the mat holding his stomach and rib area in pain as Crusader X slowly makes it to his feet, rubbing his masked head. Alfie Button has rolled slumped in the corner, and Crusader X lands a nasty dropsault in the corner.
SMAAAACK!!!
Lucas Quinn shouts, “Crusader X just kicked Alfie Button in the mouth in that corner! What is Crusader X doing now, he is going back up to the top rope, and Alfie Button has rolled away from the corner, trying to regain focus for at least the sixth time in this match!”
Crusader X wastes no time this time. He leaps high in the air and moonsaults … not once, twice into a rare double rotation moonsault landing square on the chest of Alfie Button!
The Mark shouts, “X MARKS THE WHAT!?!?!?!”
ONE!
.
.
TWO!
.
.
THREE!
DING, DING!!!
Lucas Quinn marvels, “This match had everything. Two of the very best high flyers in GLOBAL. Amazing moves. Multiple close calls. And in the end, it took a rare and amazing move to put Alfie Button away.”
The Mark compliments Crusader X saying, “Crusader X may have just stolen the show here tonight. He has cemented himself going forward as a threat against anyone.”
Crusader X’s hand is raised as he turns, looking down at his fallen foe, Alfie Button. He gives what can be perceived as a nod of respect, turning, climbing the ropes, and making the “X” symbol with his hands.
Winner: Crusader X
Viral Comedy Recap
The Magnum Opus theme music plays over the top of the following montage of clips…
Jerry David is speaking to the audience at a small, dark comedy club. A man now known as E Z Rah heckles him.
*
Jerry David leans on a wall backstage at a GLOBAL event, swiping on his phone.
Meanwhile, just a few feet away, E Z Rah stands behind a tall, black sound box. He clenches his phone tightly in his fist, his fingers turning red, then white.
“He’ll go viral over my cold, dead body, yo.” He seathes, before storming off up the corridor.
*
E Z positions the camera of his phone in front of himself as he moves towards the entrance of a building decorated with neon lights. Above the door the lights read “Big Todd’s”.
He pushes the door open to reveal a large open space venue filled with round tables, each surrounded by a small handful of people. He points his camera up to the stage to reveal Larry David, looking as smart as ever in a navy blue sports jacket, a neatly pressed white shirt, and some smart blue denim jeans. He is wearing a pleased smile on his face, which drops as he notices E Z.
“Now look here,” Jerry says into the microphone, gesturing over towards E Z, “Now what’s the deal with these Millennials?”
As soon as Jerry says the word ‘Millennials’ E Z rushes the stage, catching an audience member in the back of the head with his elbow as he rushes past the round tables, and slides up onto the stage, taking Jerry down with a swift double-leg takedown.
Viewers of his feed miss all of this, as his camera flails around, a mixture of light and dark flickering across the viewers screens.
Inside the comedy club, however, the audience are treated to the following bloodbath.
E Z, having taken Jerry down with the double-leg takedown, quickly mounts Jerry and smashes him in the forehead with the butt of his phone. He hits him over, and over, until a thick wound opens on his forehead. E Z’s phone starts to fall apart in his hand and he tosses it to one side.
Undeterred, he grabs Jerry’s hair with his left hand and bitch slaps him across the face.
Jerry is dazed, blood blurring his vision, but he makes out the shape of his microphone lying on the stage floor. He reaches for it and swings it wildly at E Z who easily dodges it.
Half of the audience have made for the doors, but the other half, the less desirable half, are standing around the edge of the stage like a group of vultures waiting to pick at the bones of the bloodied carcass of Jerry David.
E Z rolls to his feet and stomps the ribs of Jerry a few times, before heading over to where the band would normally be seated.
Fortunately, the band are on a contractually agreed smoke break, and are nowhere to be seen. Their instruments, however, remain neatly nestled in their respective holders.
E Z picks up a bass guitar and slings the strap over his shoulder, mimicking playing it. His performance is aimed at one of the several people filming the brawl.
He removes the strap as Jerry gets up to both knees, raises the bass over his head, and brings it crashing down into the forehead of Jerry. The neck of the bass snaps on contact, the body of the guitar dropping to the stage with a heavy thud. This is followed shortly by the body of Jerry David hitting the stage with an equally dull thud.
“You wanna mess with me, brah? Nah. Ain’t gon’ be that E Z.” E Z spits between heavy breaths.
He pics Jerry up by his belt and the scruff of his neck before tossing him through the drum kit.
Bah-Dum-Tish, goes the drum kit.
*
Jerry David holds a timekeepers hammer over his head.
*
LOW BLOW from Jerry!
*
LOW BLOW from Jerry!
*
THIRD LOW BLO—NO!
E Z slaps the leg away, causing Jerry to spin and show E Z his back. E Z gives Jerry a hard shove, sending his face into the exit door.
“Nah. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice… shame on…”
And here E Z trails off, instead grabbing Jerry’s shoulder and spinning him around. But Jerry is ready for him. Kick to the abdomen! SNAP SUPLEX THROUGH THE DOOR!
*
Jerry places E Z on his feet on top of the car and places his arm around the back of his neck but this might be harder than he thought. E Z starts trying to punch his way out of the situation but his injuries are still taking their toll. With great effort, Jerry manages to lift E Z from the top of the car high into the air above him in a suplex position before dropping him down directly onto the top his head with a thunderous brainbuster.
There is a sickening crash as E Z drops directly through the car’s sunroof, landing face first in between the two front seats in a crumpled heap, blood still gushing from his head. Both men remain still as the car’s alarm blares out, neither having the power or energy to move.
Backstage staff and a pair of EMT’s rush to the scene all of a sudden.
Back at ringside the referee is leaning through the ropes talking to the timekeeper and ‘Downtown’ Jason Brown, the ring announcer.
“I don’t think they’re coming back.” the referee shrugs.
The timekeeper has no hammer, so improvises a quiet ring of the bell with a teaspoon that was lying around.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, Alf Alferson.”
Alf scratches the underside of his man boob and gives the fans a thumbs up without any facial expression.
Alf Alferson goes 1-0 in his GLOBAL record.
*
E Z Rah glares down the camera lens from his hospital bed.
Jerry David glares down the camera lens from his hospital bed.
*
The two men’s heads fade into one another.
The Dirty Birds Vs. Metal Militia Vs. Tits 'n' Ass
Ahead of the next scheduled match, an unfamiliar theme song causes a predictably middling reaction from the fans. This is “Ass’n’Titties” by Three Six Mafia, which heralds the arrival of two hitherto unseen wrestlers – two women, one blonde, one brunette. The brunette, who walks in front and gleefully riles up the crowd, is taller but slimmer, with a flashy Jersey Shore aesthetic; her friend, who strongly resembles a more muscular version of Miley Cyrus, subscribes to more of a trucker type of look, and has a far more subdued attitude, merely walking in silence behind her loud and brazen partner.
“Ladies and gentlemen, up next is a special attraction Triple Threat Tag Team match, specially organised by Ross Hanson as a farewell party, ahead of his retirement from wrestling. These two ladies are one of the three teams involved, though I was unable to find more information. Allie?”
GLOBAL’s ever reliable scholar is as prompt as ever with the reply.
“Well, I don’t blame you, Lucas. These two are HARD to find any data on. However, as a local and a wrestling fan, I DO know who they are. They used to work for a company right down the road in Malibu, called Girl Power Wrestling. It closed down several years ago, though…and I heard they’d gone to Japan after that…but the trail runs cold from that point on. Anyway, the one at the back is called Molly Cyrus, and the other one I believe goes by just Tammy T now. They call themselves…” Allie’s cringe is almost audible. “…Tits’n’Ass. T’n’A for short.”
“Yeehaw! I like some Tits’n’Ass!
“Don’t be such a man, Mark…”
As the announcers learn about the visiting team from the walking wrestling encyclopedia that is Allie Reece, in the ring, the two women continue to get a mixed reaction from the crowd – mostly derived from Tammy’s penchant to rile them up, all while currying favor by showing off her admittedly toned body. A somewhat underwhelming gun show gets less of a reaction, as Tammy urges her partner, Molly, to also show off her somewhat more impressive one – a request the blonde acquiesces to only grudgingly.
She has barely begun to flex, however, when another theme song starts up on the Globe’s speakers. This time, it is Metallica’s old-school anthem “Metal Militia”, which heralds the arrival of three young men in their late teens or mid-twenties – two nearly identical-looking blond youths with long hair in ponytails, wearing sleeveless metal shirts and jean shorts, and a stockier, darker-haired man in a canvas hat, leather jacket and camouflage pants.
“Now THESE guys I know about.” This time, Allie does not even need prompting to relay her findings. “They’re Hayley Robinson’s brothers. The two blond ones there, they’re the actual team. The other one is…I guess not a manager, but…you know…he looks out for them.”
“Yeah? Then why is he going into the crowd?” Deltzer’s remark is accurate, as the older-looking man leaves his two younger charges at the top of the ramp and takes off into the crowd, after patting each of them in the back.
“I guess he trusts them to get it done by themselves.” Allie’s tone is the opposite of Deltzer’s, reasoned and understanding. “That’s what you do sometimes when you’re an older sibling… Tell you what, though, I wouldn’t know what to do if I ever had to fight my sister. These guys have got to be feeling some feelings right about now…”
If they are, then they are not showing it, as they simply enter the ring, nod towards the two women in the opposite corner – at least one of them blatantly awestruck by their looks and physique – and wait for the stars of the show to come out.
They do not have to wait long, as soon, the main theme to the Disney movie “The Mighty Ducks” heralds, for the last time, the arrival of the team known as the Dirty Birds. Decked out in their movie-accurate hockey jerseys, Ross Hanson and Hayley Robinson appear more sober than usual as they make their way to the ring, perhaps feeling the gravitas of what is more than just another match. At the announce desk, Lucas’ tone matches the overall mood, as he solemnly remarks on the team’s arrival.
“And here they are…for the last time ever, or so they claim. Hayley and Ross, the Dirty Birds.”
Presumably aware of the nature of this match, the fans greet Ross and Hayley with a considerable ovation – one which the duo somewhat forlornly acknowledges as they ascend the steps into the ring and take to their assigned corner, to wait for “Downtown” Jason Brown’s inevitable introduction.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a Triple Threat Tag Team match scheduled for…one fall! Introducing first, from right here in Los Angeles by way of New Jersey and Tennessee…the team of Tammy T and Molly Cyrus…” Brown pauses a moment, the look on his face clearly betraying his emotions, before he opts for the professional approach, bellowing out “…TITS! AND! ASS!”
A titter ripples through the crowd as the now much more relieved ring announcer continues.
“Their opponents, from Pine Bluff, Arkansas…the team of Chris Brutalizer and Aiden Destruktor…the METAAAAAAALLLL! MILITIAAAAAAA!”
The two boys in question flash devil horns to the crowd as Brown goes on to introduce the main attraction.
“And their opponents…having their farewell match…from Cincinnati, Ohio…ROSS! HAAAANSOOOON! And from Pine Bluff, Arkansas….HAYLEY…THE RAVEEEEEENNNNN…ROBINSOOOOON! The DIRTYYYYYYY! BIIIIIRDSSSSS!”
Introductions made – in style, as ever – Brown quickly vacates the ring, allowing the time keeper to do his duty and ring the bell to officially get the contest under way!
The match starts with Aiden Destruktor, Tammy T and Ross Hanson as the legal wrestlers for each team. Before the bell, Aiden offers Ross a handshake, only to remove his hand when he goes to grasp it – a prank which amuses him, brother Chris, and even the two other guests, but which earns him a clout over the head from big sister Hayley, who steps into the ring specifically for that purpose. The youth has, however, only a moment to rub his head, loudly complaining, before the bell echoes across The Globe, officially putting the match under way.
Unsurprisingly, Aiden goes straight for Hanson, whom he begins to furiously pummel with punches, as if wanting to let something out of his system. Ross, of course, fights back, the two men going blow for blow all around the mat. While Ross has a slight size, reach and power advantage, the contest is surprisingly even-keeled, with the smaller teenager pulling from his reserves of Southern grit to stay in the exchange – then ducking under a somewhat more telegraphed punch from Hanson to slip behind his opponent and land a dropkick to his back, which sends Hanson stumbling forward, off-balance. Only here does Tammy T – who has spent the first few seconds of this match sitting on the turnbuckle and engaging in running commentary to her partner – finally step forward, landing a few stomps on Ross’s head and back before quickly resuming her position once Destruktor approaches. As such, the redneck teenager is free to bring his opponent up to his feet, spin him around, and lunge forward with a clothesline…
…which Hanson dodges, running the ropes and then hitting one of his own on the rebound!
“There is clearly no love lost between these two men. This is more than just a guest spot for these kids…” Lucas’ remark is corroborated by the ever studious Allie.
“That’s right, Lucas. Apparently, Hayley Robinson’s brothers are not all that into her boyfriend, Hanson. And I guess the feeling is mutual…”
“It sure seems that way, Al..”
Indeed, in the ring, the two men continue to trade stiff blows, with Hanson delivering chops to Destruktor’s chest while the youth, pinned against the turnbuckle, attempts to fight back with forearm shots and knee strikes to the midsection, many of which manage to land flush. Even still, Hanson is holding firm, and clearly managing to do some damage of his own – in fact, one suspects Destruktor’s chest may be looking somewhat red underneath his sleeveless t-shirt…
The exchange ends when Ross himself pulls the teenager out of the corner and throws him across to the opposite turnbuckle, which happens to be his team’s; here, fans are treated to the odd scene of Hayley Robinson giving an opponent a pep talk, as she urges Aiden to “wake the hell up” and get his head in the game.
“You don’t see THAT every day…” Mark Deltzer sounds uncharacteristically amused at the scene.
“Well, they ARE family…I guess you always want your family to do as good as possible…”
“Yeah, Quinn…but in a match you’re trying to win? That’s kind’a dumb…am I right, Al?”
“Sadly…yes. You’re PARTIALLY right, but you’re still TECHNICALLY right…”
As Deltzer whoops for joy, in the ring, Hanson is connecting with his second corner splash, further wearing down his opponent – while, in the far turnbuckle, the third team in this contest is still perfectly content to sit and watch.
“I love how the girls are just sitting there like, ‘let these dudes fight. I ain’t about to chip my nails!’”
Predictably, Deltzer’s comment raises Allie Reece’s heckles, and she promptly snaps at him about the sexist nature of his remark.
“Um…Al? Have you LOOKED at that chick? She’s TOTALLY the type…”
Surprisingly, Allie hesitates for a moment as she counters. “…even still…don’t be that guy, Mark.”
“You mean an Alpha Male?” Deltzer’s voice is all smugness.
“I mean an ass.”
As Allie puts her broadcast partner in his place, in the ring, the tide has turned somewhat, as Destruktor has managed to evade Hanson’s third splash and dropkick his opponent into the turnbuckle. He then reaches in and throws Hanson across to the opposite ring post, before rushing in with another dropkick, this one of the basement variety. Hanson slumps down onto a seated position, and Destruktor aims another dropkick at his face.
“This kid is like a noob playing a fighting game…just spamming one move over, and over…”
“Hey…whatever works, Mark…”
“What do YOU know? Chicks don’t play fighting games. Just, like, Cooking Mama or whatever…”
“Look me up on Switch Online sometime. Kick your butt at Smash…”
“Pfff…who plays Nintendo? Real gamers are on Xbox…”
“Riiiight…that’s convenient.”
Deltzer chooses not to rise up to the bait as, in the ring, Hanson has fought his way out of his predicament, and tackled Destruktor down towards the center of the ring. Both athletes then scramble to their feet, and Aiden is quickest, dodging Hanson’s clothesline attempt and tripping him up with a Russian leg sweep. The Son of a Madman goes stumbling forward, and the teenager seizes his chance, connecting with a bulldog which plants Hanson! Then, clearly in need of a break, Destruktor baseball-slides his opponent to the outside, before taking a few steps back to tag in his brother. The ever well-informed Allie pipes up once again.
“Here comes the second member of the Metal Militia, Chris Brutalizer – or should I say, Chris Robinson? Now, according to some info I found from a previous league these boys were involved in, this is the middle brother. Older than Destruktor there, but younger than Hayley and their fourth sibling, on the outside there…”
“They all look young to me…”
“That’s because they are, Lucas. I think the oldest is in his mid-twenties…Hayley herself is only twenty-three. From what I heard, they have all been wrestling since they were teenagers.”
“Aren’t they STILL teenagers?”
As Mark Deltzer’s question goes unanswered, in the ring, Chris Brutalizer is clearly having doubts about going after a woman, which only exacerbate when Tammy raises her hands in a clear demand for mercy. Uneasy about hitting a girl that is not Hayley, Chris relents, turning away to check on Hanson on the outside…
…which is exactly the opening Tammy needs to attack! No sooner has the Metal Militia member turned his back than she is raining down on him with blows to the back and neck, and even a sneaky knee between the legs, which referee Gabrielle Harris is out of position to spot! Caught completely by surprise, Brutalizer doubles over and falls to his knees, giving Tammy a chance to kick him over the head and send him down to the mat!
“That Jezebel!!”
“Yeah, I agree, Lucas. That’s not right.”
As Allie, for once, sides with a man over a woman, in the ring, Tammy has flipped Chris over and hooked the leg, looking for a cover. Gabby slides in..
ONE!
TW—broken up by Destruktor!
As the youngest member of the Militia once again makes himself scarce, Tammy turns around to confer with her tag partner about what to do. Molly Cyrus, however, simply shrugs her shoulders, causing her partner to snap “yeah, thanks for nothin’, babygirl!” Forced to improvise, the Jersey native then turns back towards the Southerner, who is just pulling himself to his knees, and rushes in with a knee to the side of the head, which takes him straight down again!
“A good spell of offence here from one of our guests, and Chris appears to be in trouble..”
“And the girl’s about to be in trouble too, Lucas!”
Indeed, Allie has spotted what the other two are only now noticing – namely, Ross Hanson climbing over the side apron and back into the ring. Busy giving the audience on the opposite side another glimpse of the gun show, Tammy also does not notice him until it is too late and she is getting pulled down into a rollup! The referee drops down to count!
ONE!
TWO!
–-broken by Molly Cyrus!
There are clearly no hard feelings between Hanson and the two women as both he and Tammy roll through to their feet, Hanson simply shrugging and smirking apologetically at Molly before grabbbing Tammy and dropping her with a snap DDT! He drops down to cover…
…and gets punted in the head by a recovered Chris Brutalizer!
Having found his way into the match at last, the second member of the Metal Militia no longer appears to have any reservations about attacking a member of the opposite sex – at least judging by the way he tosses Hanson aside to drop several elbows on the prone Tammy! He then picks her up, only to toss her across the way with a suplex, then – as she lands near the ropes – baseball-slide her to the outside, much as his brother had done earlier with Hanson. He then takes a moment to mouth off to her for her shenanigans from earlier, before turning around…
…straight into a big lariat from Hanson, which throws Brutalizer to the outside as well, causing him to land on top of Tammy!
Rather than follow through, however, Hanson instead backs up to his corner to bring his girlfriend into the match for the first time. Wary of attacking her own brother unless the situation calls for it, however, the blonde chooses instead to focus her attention on Tammy, for whom she appears to have no love lost. She therefore helps Chris to his feet, leaving him to shake off the cobwebs and recover, before picking the guest Jersey native up and slamming her against the apron, ahead of rolling her into the ring. Back inside the squared circle, she then brings the former stripper up to a vertical position, only to set her up for a facebuster; Tammy, however, comes alive, connecting with a sneaky eye poke which has the desired effect of causing Hayley to release her hold, then grabbing the blonde onto a facebuster of her own!
“She apparently calls that the Five-Dollar Special…” Deltzer, who has been strangely subdued all throughout the match, finally makes himself heard, immediately bringing about a response from Lucas.
“Yeah…that was cheap, all right.”
“Effective, though…”
No one can really counter Deltzer’s statement as, in the ring, Tammy covers and Gabby counts.
ONE!
TWO!
—broken up by Chris Brutalizer, who YANKS the brunette off of his sister by the hair and transitions into a hairmare, sending her sprawling! Rather than cover his still prone sister, the middle Robinson brother then chooses to follow up his punishment of the guest wrestler, whom he has clearly not yet forgiven for her sneak attack; in his anger, however, he ends up walking straight into another sneak attack from Tammy – one which, again, Gabby does not see, as she is busy admonishing Molly Cyrus for attempting to enter the ring. The Southern belle’s well-timed distraction gives her partner a precious few seconds in which to come over and execute the tag – just as a revived Hayley Robinson throws her ass-over-teakettle over the top of the turnbuckle and to the outside!
“Was that a legal tag?”
“I think it was, Lucas, yes.”
Indeed, Gabrielle Harris signals for a valid tag, making Molly Cyrus the legal woman in this match for the first time. And her first course of action is, predictably, to go straight for Hayley, and hand her a receipt for what she has done to her partner, sending her flying to the outside. She is then just in time to dodge the recovered and onrushing Brutalizer, who suffers the same fate as his sister, becoming the third body in the growing heap.
Seeing both their partners being flung to the outside, both Ross Hanson and Aiden Destruktor rush to their side, to ensure they are all right. In the commotion, nobody notices Molly Cyrus, having run the ropes, leapfrog to the top rope and fly off towards them with a springboard Shooting Star Press! Molly comes down onto the whole pile, sending everyone tumbling every different direction (her included!)
“WHAT A DIVE by…” Quinn pauses to check his notes. “…Molly Cyrus, taking everyone else down with her!”
“Yeah. That one’s going to take some recovering from…”
Deltzer’s words soon prove true, as all six athletes remain down for a long moment – what would probably be a six-count or so, had there been any count-outs. Only after this long interval does everyone begin to stir, with Molly Cyrus and Chris Brutalizer being first and second to their feet. Chris stumbles to the apron, then rolls into the ring, where it takes him a few extra seconds to rise to his feet, as he shakes off the cobwebs. In contrast, the nimble Molly climbs onto the apron, attempting another springboard into the middle of the ring. Eventually, however, she opts for a simple crossbody plancha instead, hitting it but doing so with so much momentum that Chris is able to roll through, wrapping her up in a pinfall! The referee slides in to count!
ONE!
TWO!
T—ammy barely makes it over in time to break up the pin! Tammy struggles to her feet, only to be pushed back through the ropes by the other Robinson brother, who has made a full recovery! He reels from the shoulder check, stumbling back a bit, before meeting resistance in the form of the similarly revived Ross Hanson! Ross grabs him in a rear waistlock! He sets him back down to absorb a running shot from Chris, putting him into Ross’s grasp as well! Ross is able to hook both boys up, one on each arm!
Ross Hanson hits a double back suplex on both of his girlfriend’s little brothers!
“What the…? He’s not the legal man! Can he even DO that?”
“Five seconds, Deltzer…He showed he knows the sport, right there…”
Indeed, no sooner has the double suplex been hit than Hanson pushes Aiden Destruktor through the ropes before following himself, giving center stage back to his life and wrestling partner. Molly, however, is quickest off the mark, and slides in to pin the unconscious but legal Chris Brutalizer!
ONE!
TWO!
—Hayley Robinson breaks the pin with a brutal Redneck Stomp to the back of Molly’s head!
Fully recovered and with fire in her belly, “the Raven” wastes no time throwing Molly to the far turnbuckle, barely allowing her to connect back-first before running in with a splash! She backs up for another, but Molly manages to dodge, attempting to counter with a clothesline. Hayley is able to dodge, however, and profits from Molly’s off-balance position to flapjack her onto the turnbuckle! The impact makes Molly bounce off the structure, and Hayley picks her up again, this time connecting with a turnbuckle bulldog! Molly comes out of it stumbling, and Hayley leaps onto the turnbuckle, connecting with a corner hurricanrana, which sends her opponent sprawling…right onto Hayley’s brother, Chris, who was preparing to join the fray once more, and who is knocked loopy by the impact!
“Good momentum from Hayley Robinson here…even if she DID just accidentally knock out her own brother.”
“Hey! They’re technically opponents, Quinn. Let’s not forget that!”
“…thank you, Mark. I was not aware.”
Lucas’ sarcasm is lost on “The Mark”, as inside the ring, not realising what she has caused to occur, “the Raven” has once again ascended the turnbuckle, this time looking to take off in Raven’s Flight! The inverted shooting star press connects flush with Cyrus’s midsection, but Hayley chooses not to cover; instead, she stands up, calls out for Ross, and walks over to their corner to tag him in.
“WHAT?!” The Mark is all but spluttering in disbelief. “Why didn’t she just cover?”
Allie, however, is experiencing no such feelings of confusion, instead stating “I think I know why…”
Understanding what his girlfriend is doing, the Son of a Madman stops only long enough to kiss the redneck blonde on the lips before entering the ring. He takes a moment to assess the situation, sees Chris Brutalizer just scrambling to his feet, and heads over in his direction. He pulls the young man up and begins to set up a move, but something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye – a recovered Molly Cyrus, making a run for both of them! Hanson therefore lets go of Brutalizer in order to dodge out of the way of Molly’s lariat, which connects with the Militia member instead, sending him tumbling over the ropes. Before the Southern belle has time to capitalise, however, Hanson is reaching in from behind, picking her up over his shoulder, and connecting with his patented tombstone piledriver – much to The Mark’s delight.
“SCOOPSTONE connecting!”
Hanson is smiling as he goes for the cover.
ONE!
Tammy and Aiden Destruktor fly out of their respective corners!
TWO!
Tammy intercepts Aiden…
…then gets laid out by Hayley, who protects her boyfriend long enough for him to get the…
THREE!
Hanson is still smiling as he rolls through to his feet and joins Hayley in the center of the ring, to have his hand raised by referee Gabby Harris, and hear his name bellowed out by “Downtown” Jason Brown.
“Ladies and gentlemen…the winners of this match…Hayley Robinson and Ross Hanson…THE DIRRRRRRTYYYY BIIIIRDDDSSSS!”
“A good win here for Robinson and Hanson in Hanson’s farewell match…though the question does remain: what’s next for Hayley Robinson?”
Neither Deltzer nor Reece are able to answer Quinn’s question, instead simply gazing at the blonde as she goes over to each of her brothers and attempts to revive them, while Hanson does the same with the two members of Tits’n’Ass. It is on this tableau that the broadcast leaves the six young people, taking viewers elsewhere.
Winner: The Dirty Birds
Twitch Stream Watch Party II
Elsewhere in the Greater LA area, Trouble Roxx’s Twitch stream is proceeding apace, the chat having blown up with reactions to that last match, which the two hosts are now discussing.
“Holy CRAP, what a match! What did you guys think?”
Teagan Trouble turns to their two special guests, who smile shyly at the camera, Ade Flowers venturing an equally timid comment.
“Yeah, it was great…”
“Great? It was UH-MAY-ZING!” Teagan gestures wildly to emphasize her point, then just as quickly regains her prior composure. “Probably my favorite of the night so far. How ’bout you, Iz?”
“Same…!”
“Guys?”
“Well, I liked Alecz and Big Aug. I think Ade preferred looking at Amber Lee…”
“She’s easy on the eye, mate. Not going to lie.”
“She also has A BOYFRIEND, you creeper!” Teagan thumps her friend playfully on the arm. “Not too short for you, though, huh?”
“Nope.” Ade grins at the camera, his shyness slowly vanishing. “Good on Alfie, though. He’s a mate, and he deserves it.”
“Speaking of which…who are your favorites at GLOBAL? I mean, BESIDES us, obviously.”
“Ugh…” It is Rushton’s turn to grin as he gently deflects the question. “You know I need to go back to that locker room in a few days…”
“Come on!” Teagan taps him lightly in the arm as well. “Spill it! Just between us and the dozens of people on the chat right now!”
“I like everyone…” Ant’s smile asks the girls not to press the issue – which Teagan, to her credit, does not, instead turning the focus back on herself.
“I gotta rep my boi E Z! Dude’s got swag for DAAAAYS!”
“Shut up, Teagan!” Three voices ring out the exact same words in perfect unison, causing all three speakers to collapse with laughter and share a quick high-five behind Teagan’s back, before turning their attention to the Pay-Per-View stream, where another match is about to begin.
Darren Best Vs. Son of Malta
Lucas Quinn marvels at the historical atmosphere and event. The Mark continues the GLOBAL praise saying the future is bright. Allie compliments the Global Nation saying they have been hungry for wrestling, and tonight you can feel the energy.
The iconic anthem of the legendary Tina Turner kicks in and respectable applause for Darren Best when the fan-favorite emerges smack bang on cue: “YOU’RE SIMPLY THE BEST – BETTER THAN ALL THE REST.”
Lucas Quinn compliments Darren Best. Last seen taking Sean Darring to the limits, Darren Best looks to add to his already decorated career. Allie adds that Darren Best is one of the better technicians in GLOBAL with a fitting submission move, The Bester Submission Ever.
Darren Best stands in the center of the ring and begins to use the ropes to loosen up as the fans continue to offer up respect to the veteran. The referee comes over and talks to Best. They have a good chuckle, and Best gives the official the thumbs up in respect.
Lucas Quinn says that Darren Best is a proud and respectful competitor. He has accomplished a lot but also overcame his share of demons. He is a guy you want to root for and see succeed.
The Maltese national anthem hits the PA system, which only means one thing: the dangerous Son of Malta emerges from the curtains to a mixed reaction. The GLOBAL nation respects the dangerous technician but likes Darren Best. The announcers remind the fans that Son of Malta is as dangerous as they come. The Maltese Cross is one of the most feared moves in GLOBAL, and he is mentally nearly unbreakable.
Son of Malta continues to walk down the aisle, focusing on Darren Best. The Mark talks about the tale of the tape between these two veterans. Son of Malta has the size advantage, but only by a few inches. They are both tough-nosed technical veterans. It’s the battle of the Maltese Cross versus The Best Submission Ever. Lucas Quinn marvels at how close these two men are, and it’s a perfect match for a historic night. Allie adds a small nugget saying it’s New York toughness versus the toughest man to come out of Malta.
Before the bell, both men walk to the center of the ring. The assigned official appears to be running through the rules of the match. Both veterans nod in understanding and slap one another’s hand in respect as they back away and the official calls for the opening bell.
DING DING !!!
The fans POP as the bell rings, and the two veterans begin to circle one another, running through their mental strategy as they look for the first opening. After a few moments of circling, the two finally lock up in the center of the ring, and the waited tension adds to the suspense as the fans cheer on the first sign of action.
Lucas Quinn talks about the chess match that is going on between these two men. Usually, they are two, maybe three steps ahead of their opponents, but both men have been through wars like this and are ready tonight.
Both men fight for position as Darren Best is the first to move the bigger Son of Malta backward and into the corner of the ring. Malta holds his arms up, using his knee in the ropes, calling for a break as the referee is over to oblige. Darren Best responds by holding his arms up and slowly backing away.
The Mark compliments the Son of Malta for taking advantage of Darren Best’s goodwill. Allie wonders how long it will take before things get a bit personal.
Both men begin slowly circling a second time extending the opening chess match between the two decorated technicians. Darren Best is heard asking Son of Malta if he is ready this time. Son of Malta responds You are about to find out. The two men smile and lock up again. Darren Best quickly transitions to an armbar. Son of Malta not to be outdone reverses it. Best looking for a quick opening is taken down by a transitioned headlock takedown by Malta. Both men right back up, and Best charges forward and into an armdrag takedown by Son of Malta.
Lucas Quinn reminds the fans that these are two of the best technicians you will watch anywhere. Every move and transition can lead to a counter if you aren’t careful with these two.
Son of Malta extends the arm of Darren Best as he holds on. Malta brings Best back to his feet, still holding that arm. Best backs Malta up against the ropes, but before he can send him off, Malta again refuges into the ropes forcing a rope break from the official as Best shakes his head but slowly backs away.
Allie comments that the Son of Malta is trying to get into Darren Best’s head. When the action starts to pick up on behalf of Best, he puts the breaks on it and takes advantage of Best’s goodwill.
Son of Malta takes a step forward but eats a knife-edge-chop by Darren Best.
THWAAAAAAP!!!!
Lucas Quinn says Darren Best has decided to step things up!
Son of Malta returns fire!
THWAAAAAAP!!!!
The Mark says there will be some rest chests in this match!
Darren Best not to be outdone with another chop!
THWAAAAAAP!!!!
Son of Malta!
THWAAAAAAP!!!!
Lucas Quinn talks about the impact those chops are having.
Son of Malta goes for another one, but Darren best ducks it and rifles a series of chops.
THWAAAAAAP!!!!
THWAAAAAAP!!!!
THWAAAAAAP!!!!
Best backs the veteran up … Malta pulls Best forward with a High Knee. Both men stumble around, trying to recover from the stiff damage.
The Mark comments that these two are supposed to be proud technical veterans. Allie responds, saying that a stage like this forces you to bring everything to the ring.
Darren Best fires forward a series of forearm shots. He goes to send the Son of Malta across the ropes, but Malta reverses it. Best ducks under a wild backswing. Best springboards and takes Malta down with a springboard armdrag.
Lucas Quinn says Darren Best won’t be outdone, and an armdrag by him, and one might say the “best” armdrag. The Mark replies I see what you did there, Lucas.
Darren Best, the master of working on the arm, locks an armbar on the Son of Malta. Best transitions into his pattened amrbeakers.
THUD!
THUD!
THUD!
Lucas Quinn sympathizes with the Son of Malta. Those can’t feel good as Darren Best works the arm of Malta here in the early going.
Darren Best grabs the arm of Malta and yanks him in for a single arm DDT, but the Son of Malta counters by pulling Darren Best into an armbar of his own.
The Mark mentions that while Darren Best may be at the top of the technical ladder, the Son of Malta is quite the battle-tested technician of his own.
Malta holds Best’s arm and extends it upwards, nodding his head confidently, but that only lasts for a few seconds as Darren Best is waiting for the right moment and counters right back into holding Malta’s arm in an armbar.
Lucas Quinn mentions that every move between these men can be countered. Allie questions how many years combined of experience these two men have. The Mark jokes that whatever it is still isn’t as many as Sean Darring has by himself.
Another counter as Son of Malta positions Darren Best into an arm throw. Darren Best hops back up but is kicked square in the head by an enziguri!
SMACCCK!
Lucas Quinn marvels at the impact the enziguri had. I have seen concussions happen with less force than that.
The Son of Malta locks a cross kneelock on Darren Best. The official quickly slides in place to check on the veteran as the Maltese veteran applies pressure.
The Mark mentions that if the enziguri knocked Darren Best out, the cross knee lock has woken him up. Lucas Quinn says Darren Best can find ways out of nearly any submission move. Allie adds that he better do it quickly.
Darren Best refuses to give up as the official checks on him. The Son of Malta continues to try and apply pressure, but with the adjustment, Darren Best finds an opening and works his way out. A suprised Son of Malta is back up who is joined by a limping Darren Best. Malta goes on the attack but is dropped with a heads-up DDT out of nowhere.
THUUUUD!
Lucas Quinn yells that Darren Best has the heart of a lion with that big counter.
Darren Best quickly returns to his strength to work on the Son of Malta’s arm with another armbar. Malta tries to break out, but Best drops down with a hipdrop armbreaker.
With each armbar, Lucas Quinn says Darren Best sets Malta up for the Best Submission Ever. The Mark questions if it will be enough to keep him out of the Maltese Cross.
SMACK!
Darren Best plants a standing crescent kick to the face of the seated Son of Malta. Best drops down and makes the first pin cover of the match.
ONE!
TWO!
… KICK OUT!
Darren Best hops up and attempts a standing moonsault that he calls OUTstanding Moonsault, the Son of Malta gets his knees up, and Best lands on Malta’s knees.
Lucas Quinn compliments Malta on the heads-up move.
The Son of Malta pulls the veteran up and unloads on his stiff shoot-style leg kicks.
Lucas Quinn sympathizes with Darren Best, winching at the sound of each of those kicks.
The Son of Malta then locks Darren Best and lifts him perfectly backward with a bridging northern lights suplex!
ONE!
TWO!
… KICK OUT!
Darren Best breaks out of the bridge. The Son of Malta quickly attacks again and begins to lock on his dreaded Indian Deathlock, but the veteran, Darren Best, reaches and rolls the Son of Malta up out of pure instinct!
ONE!
TWO!
… KICK OUT!
A forceful kick out, but Malta and both men are back up, but Malta has the upper hand and hits a Superstar Kick!
SMACK!
The Mark is suprised at the echo that kick had throughout the Globe.
The Son of Malta pulls Darren Best up and locks on a cobra clutch, then lifts him up, slamming him down on the mat with the cobra clutch slam.
THUUUD!
ONE!
TWO!
Lucas Quinn marvels at Best kicking out again. Mentions that Darren Best is taking quite the punishment.
The Son of Malta locks on a side headlock. Darren Best counters, sending Malta off the ropes, and Best rebounds, hitting a bulldog that lights a fire into the crowd as they POP!
Lucas Quinn questions where that came from, as Best looked to be running on empty. Allie mentions it’s the biggest night of GLOBAL. Nobody wants to quit on the biggest stage.
Both men continue to stay down, looking up at the bright lights of the Globe.
DAR-REN! DAR-REN! DAR-REN!
The fans fully support Darren Best, the Son of Malta is up first. He approaches Best, who is up next, kicks the approaching Malta in the stomach, and hits a big Backdrop Driver!
THUUUUUUUD!
Lucas Quinn says listen to those fans! They are in full support of Darren Best. The Mark sarcastically calls Global nation a fickle bunch. Says just a few shows ago, they were supporting Malta. Allie quickly reminds everyone that it was more about Daniel Dream than the Son of Malta.
The Son of Malta, showing that he is tough as nails, is right back up but dazed, and Darren Best pulls him in for a Best of Both, otherwise known as a buckle wrist-clutch exploder.
THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!
Darren Best stumbles back to his feet, trying to shake the cobwebs and regain focus takes a moment to pump his fist in appreciation of the support of the rabid Global Nation. He begins to lock on the Best Submission Ever, but Son of Malta senses danger and dives into the ropes desperately.
Lucas Quinn compliments Son of Malta, saying he almost had sixth sense right there. He noticed the danger and dove into the ropes before Darren Best got that arm. The Mark reminds the fans that it only takes one mistake for Darren Best or Son of Malta to lock their deadly finisher on.
Darren respects the referee’s orders and backs away at his request holding his hands up. As the Son of Malta turns, Darren Best launches into another superkick, but Malta starts to make people wonder if he is spiderman with more sixth sense dodging it. As Darren Best turns, the Son of Malta hits the ropes and lands a kick of his own, a spinning heel kick.
Allie pops for the counter as Son of Malta hits that kick on pure instinct.
Both veterans are down, and the official stands over them, counting them down as the fans roar for the action. Lucas Quinn hypes the match and night, saying the stage does not get any bigger. Both these veterans know a win here would go a long way in getting them back on the right track.
Darren Best and the Son of Malta work back to their feet simultaneously. Son of Malta eats a right but pulls Darren Best in for a big snap Belly-to-Belly Overhead Suplex.
THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!
Darren Best grabs his lower back but hops back up and into an awaiting Son of Malta, who drops him with a fireman’s carry slam!
THUUUUUUUUUUUD!
ONE!
TWO!
2/3 … KICK OUT!
Lucas Quinn says that was so close! Darren Best just got his shoulder up. The Mark talks about the wear and tear a match like this takes on an individual. Both veterans give that little extra with each move looking for that big win.
Both men are back up. The wear and tear of the night are starting to show. Malta with more stiff bone-snapping leg kicks… Darren Best with a heads-up veteran move with a counter jawbreaker! The Son of Malta stays on his feet as Best attempts a double hammerlock to turn into a jumping piledriver, but Malta with a back body drop.
Allie says that Son of Malta had that well scouted and that extra work in the film room may be the difference.
Big leg lariat by the Son of Malta. The Son of Malta locks on the calf crusher.
Lucas Quinn says that Darren Best is in trouble! Both men are submission experts, and Darren Best is trying to position himself in a position that gives him the best opportunity to get out.
Darren Best is close to tapping, but it hangs on and gets to the ropes as the fans roar in support.
The Mark talks about how close that was.
Frustrated, the Son of Malta pulls Darren Best up, but the small package rolls up out of desperation by Best.
ONE!
TWO!
… KICK OUT!
The Son of Malta kicks up and comes up swinging! Darren Best ducks under and another cross-arm breaker!
Lucas Quinn talks about how the Son of Malta’s arm will be near useless for a few days.
The Son of Malta holds his arm as Daren Best goes for another Best Submission Ever, but Malta rolls through – Both up and European Upper by Darren Best and a series of leg kicks by Malta.
The Mark says both men going back to their strengths. Best working on that arm and the Son of Malta with those kicks!
The Son of Malta places Darren Best on the top turnbuckle and Avalanche Belly-to-Back Suplex.
THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!
The fans gasped as nearly all the wind got knocked out of the sail on that move. The Son of Malta grabs Darren Best and double undercut … cross face!
Lucas Quinn shouts out there is the Maltese Cross! The Mark sympathizes with Best, calling the Maltese Cross one of the most dangerous submissions in GLOBAL.
Darren Best attempts to hold on, but he cannot move Malta closer to the ropes and taps the mat giving the Maltese warrior the victory.
DING DING!
The Winner of the match … THE SON OF MALLLLLLTA!
Lucas Quinn talks about both men’s guts and effort in this epic battle. Beating Darren Best is no easy task, and this victory places the Son of Malta right back on the mat.
Winner: Son of Malta
Old Willy.
London, England
Saturday 3rd April, 1599.
It had taken the family some time to settle into their new community, having moved south from the peaceful and leafy town of Stratford-Upon-Avon to the bustling City of London. Now the children have settled into school and his wife has found herself some female companionship on account of her thrusting herself bravely into the social events arranged by St Helens church just a few hundred yards up the street from them. The fact that that the family were beginning to finally find their footing meant that the famed writer was finally finding time to work on his latest play, which was due to begin casting in just three short months.
The room in which the writer sits is dimly lit by candlelight. The dark wooden panelled walls absorb the light, making the room feel warm and cosy. The room is sparsely furnished with two bookcases, each filled with hardback books, and a writing table which angles upwards against the small window of the room, overlooking the gloomy street outside.
The moonlight casts an additional orange hue over the candlelit table, at which a man sits holding his quill.
He is a balding man, his head pointed at the top which is mirrored by a sharp, short brown beard on his chin. He is wearing dark clothing accented by a white ruff around his neck.
The quill flits between his fingers, turning between his index finger and thumb as he stares through the window, idly watching the raindrops lightly mist his window.
He sighs gently and, with his empty hand, rubs his dry, tired eyes. Today has been a long day, and whilst a lot has been achieved the writer has reached an impasse. For the last few hours he has sat staring at a half-filled page, not sure on his next move.
As his eyes adjust back to the dim light after having rubbed them he swears he sees a flash through the window. Something black had briefly glimmered under the moonlight, passing his window. He places his quill back into its inkwell and stands up, leaning across his writing table. He looks through the window and up the street in the direction that the object had moved, but sees nothing.
“Dastardly black feline of witches.” he mutters to himself, sitting back at the table.
He reaches back into the drawer and pulls a flat, round metal box from inside. He pops the lid open and removes a tiny spoon, scooping some of the white powder from the box as he goes. He takes a quick sniff of the powder and places the spoon back in the tub, replacing the lid and placing the box back in the drawer, closing the drawer behind it.
He looks at the quill standing in its inkwell, taunting him.
“How hast thee the gaul to look at me with such eyes?” he asks the quill, “I shall burn you in the evening’s fire!”
He stands again, the chair scraping on the wooden floor as he pushes it away from him with his calves.
“Thou taunt me nightly! I can bare it no more!”
He grasps the quill by the feather, crushing it in his hand, and lifts it from the inkwell high above his head before slamming it down onto the table.
“Now thee shall feel the pain of man.” he tells the quill, before picking it back up and turning towards the door of the writing room, swinging it open with such a force that it slams against the panelled walls.
The hallways of the house are unlit except from the pale light of the evening that creeps in through the small window at one end. There is barely enough light to make out your hand in front of your face.
The writer stomps up the hallway, which is also panelled in the same way as the writing room he has stormed from, but with a few small alcoves along its length. As he passes one of those alcoves something catches his eye. That black glimmer again, just above eye level this time, and static. He stops in his tracks and takes a few steps backwards so that he can look into the alcove and catch the cat climbing his panelled walls, but in the alcove he finds nothing but darkness.
He shakes his head and turns to continue his journey, but is blocked by a man dressed in a strange outfit.
In front of the writer stands a man in futuristic clothing. A black blazer neatly tailored to fit his slender, tall torso with matching black trousers and shoes that glimmer even under the palest of moonlight. On the man’s head is a black bag of a material the writer has never seen before, a large orange triangle is printed in the middle of the bag and a word, upside down, is scrawled across the triangle.
Doritos.
The man’s breath is taken away and he instinctively raises the quill above his head, ready to attack.
“From whenst have you came?” he asks the beast in front of him, who stands at least a foot taller but is as thin as a rake.
“Chill, mother fucker.” Doritos says, his hand gently resting on the writers raised fist, guiding it down by his side. “I’m here to help, my man. I know you are tormented by the play you are writing. But here, I have somethin’ that can help, dude.”
Doritos reaches into the pocket inside his suit jacket and pulls an entire manuscript, yellowed and weathered with age so much that it appears to be hundreds of years old.
“It’s, like, historically critical you get this shit right, my man. Kids around the world will totally thank you for what you’re about to do. Like, for the rest of time kids will be forced to read your shit and write essays about it an’ shit. So don’t fuck it up, aiight, Old Willy?”
Doritos shoves the manuscript into the writer’s chest with enough force that the writer takes a step backwards.
He takes the manuscript and looks down at it, trying to decipher the title.
Amlóði
“What is,” the writer begins, but looking up he finds himself standing alone in the darkness.
He looks back down at the manuscript and flicks to the first page.
Before long the writer is sat back in his study devouring the entire ancient script, on which he would base his greatest play: Hamlet.
E Z Rah Vs. Jerry David
Last Man Standing Match
The lights dim slightly as a hush starts to wash over the crowd. A spotlight starts to roam around, looking for its mark before landing on the top of the ramp. A live band then starts to play generic ‘welcome to the show’ music as the curtain opens and Jerry David emerges, smiling and greeting the band with a polite wave of the hand. The crowd cheer wildly as he takes a dramatic bow in the spotlight.
Before he has a chance to raise his head, E Z Rah emerges from the back, running at full speed. He shoves Jerry onto the ground.
Jerry rolls down the ramp as E Z stares at him, breathing heavily with a look of utter fury on his face. He still looks a bit busted up from a couple of weeks previously and from the look he’s giving Jerry, he isn’t ready to forgive and forget anytime soon.
The band have stopped playing and are all eyeing each other, trying to figure out what to do as E Z grabs the back of Jerry’s blazer and starts dragging him towards the top of the ramp.
Soon the band realise that they have to move and all scramble to do so just in time to avoid Jerry being thrown in their direction and into the mass of instruments.
The instruments all fall, clattering and banging under the impact of Jerry hitting them. He struggles to grasp hold of one of the instruments to defend himself but E Z is already upon him.
Before Jerry can fight back, he is lifted in the air in a suplex position before crashing down directly onto the drum kit. Equipment is crushed, a cymbal goes rolling off into the distance and both men are holding their backs.
E Z manages to stand after a moment and looks around for an official. He argues with him to begin the count before being told the match hasn’t officially even started yet. E Z doesn’t accept this as he starts to get in the officials face, shouting and frantically gesturing. The official is having none of it though, he only shakes his head and smirks slightly as he sees what’s about to happen.
Confused, E Z looks behind him to be met with a thunderous…
CRASH
An electric guitar comes smashing down over his head. The guitar explodes into smaller pieces as E Z lies motionless on the floor.
Jerry takes a moment to compose himself and readjust his clothing, as the band tentatively make their way back to their stand.
Jerry hoists E Z onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and gives his band the thumbs up as they strike and strum what little remains of their instruments. The drummer rapping his drumsticks on a snare drum, the guitarist using a Ukelele that hasn’t been mic’d up.
Jerry continues his entrance, waving and greeting the crowd as E Z groans in pain.
Jerry boots E Z in the side, rolling him down the ramp before leaning over and gathering E Z up to his feet. He places E Z onto the apron and pushes him into the ring before climbing up the steps and entering himself.
The referee helps E Z sit up in the corner and starts to chat to him. E Z nods his head and starts to get to his feet. Seeing that E Z is okay to continue the referee turns to Jerry who also nods. With that, a hand gesture is made to the timekeeper, the bell rings and this match is officially underway.
Jerry wastes no time, charging at E Z who is still propped up on the bottom turnbuckle. Jerry launches himself through the air.
CANNON BALL!
Jerry lands on top of E Z before rolling right back to his feet and sprinting across the ring. Then again, he runs at E Z.
CANNON BALL!
Jerry gets back to his feet again and sprints once more across the ring before turning and charging directly into a spear from E Z Rah.
E Z takes Jerry down and hops straight on top of him, swinging wild blows at the face of his nemesis.
Jerry leaps at E Z, grabbing him firmly with a double leg takedown before fully unloading on his tormentor. Right hands at first as E Z struggles to defend himself before Jerry loses control and starts pummelling E Z with everything he has. Jerry climbs off and scours the vicinity looking for anything he can to inflict further damage. He gets a few more kicks in to make sure E Z isn’t getting up any time soon and makes his way out of the ring as the referee starts to count.
ONE!
Jerry is looking under the ring, he grabs a table and starts to slide it out into the ringside area.
TWO!
E Z is trying to try sit up as Jerry slides the table into the ring, but instead of following it inside, he goes back under the ring.
THREE!
E Z is clinging onto the ropes as clanging is heard from underneath the ring. Jerry emerges again but this time he’s holding a ladder! He slides it out and starts to push it into the ring.
FOUR!
E Z is up now, stopping the count but leaning face down into the turnbuckle. He’s not thinking straight after all those shots to his head. He barely even notices Jerry coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. The next thing E Z knows he’s being lifted up into the air and dropped directly on his head with a sickening thud. German suplex!
As E Z clutches his head and neck, Jerry gets to work on his elaborate plan. He sets up the ladder in the corner of the ring as the referee gets to a one count. Then he sets the table up in the middle of the ring before looking at E Z. The referee counts to two as Jerry decides he isn’t quite happy and slides out of the ring and once more goes looking underneath.
THREE!
Jerry emerges carrying a large metal trash can, he gives it a bang with his hand to make sure it’s nice and solid before throwing it in the ring and following.
FOUR!
Just as E Z starts to get to his feet he turns to be smashed in the head with a garbage can. He staggers around dazed, trying to regain himself, but suddenly everything turns black. Jerry has placed the garbage can on top of E Z’s head before throwing him onto the table.
Jerry wastes no time. He climbs the ladder, which is still leaning against the turnbuckle, halfway. He turns to look back at E Z, trash can and all, still lying motionless on the table. He continues to climb until he reaches the top before turning to look down at his foe. The flash of cameras and loud cheers start to fill the arena. Jerry takes a moment before leaping off the ladder, extending an elbow and coming crashing down into the trash can, E Z, and the table. The table instantly folds in two as the trash can bends itself round E Z’s torso and head. Both men look hurt as neither are able to stand. The referee starts the count again.
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!
Jerry manages to sit up, still clutching his arm as he shuffles back into the corner.
FIVE! SIX!
Jerry is on his feet, breathing heavily and nursing his sore arm. E Z is attempting to free himself from his metallic prison.
SEVEN!
Inch by inch the trash can is starting to come loose, with one final effort it comes flying off and out the ring.
EIGHT!
Jerry uses the time to recover as E Z tries his hardest to get to the ropes and pull himself up. He’s still dazed and hurt.
NINE!
Just in the knick of time E Z manages to lift himself up onto his feet, stumbling and uneasy but on his feet nonetheless. Jerry glares at him in disbelief as E Z smiles smugly, though at this point it’s unclear if that’s because he beat the count or he has no idea where he is.
Jerry shakes his head before looking around the ringside area. He drops out of the ring and grabs a chair, slamming it against the guard rail a couple of times so the satisfying noise of steel-on-steel can be heard by every last one of the 2,500 paying fans. He slides it under the bottom rope and follows it in, but rather than springing towards the chair, he just stands there, looking at E Z Rah. E Z Rah looking at Jerry David. Each snarling, each aching and sore. The chair sits between them like an innocent child of divorce. Which parent will it pick? Which will it only see on a fortnightly basis under supervised conditions?
Jerry gestures towards the chair.
“Take it.” he tells E Z. “You need it.”
E Z looks at the chair, then at Jerry, then at the chair again. He leans in to pick the chair up when STOMP! Jerry’s foot stomps the chair back to the ground, pinning E Z’s fingers beneath it. E Z yelps in pain and Jerry quickly spins his body, aiming a kick at E Z’s head, but as he does E Z’s fingers come free and he ducks and rolls. Jerry spins a full 360 degrees to find E Z has rolled to his feet. E Z snaps a quick dropkick to the right knee of Jerry, who then collapses immediately down to one knee, his face looking down at the chair. E Z is back to his feet immediately and he bounces from the ropes.
CURB STO–NO
Jerry backs away, leaving E Z to stomp on the steel chair instead. E Z spins to find it is now Jerry’s turn to be on his feet. Jerry swings for a field goal.
LOW BLOW!
MY GOD! The injured penis of E Z Rah!
But wait… E Z Rah is tapping his temple and shaking his head. Jerry is grasping his right foot. What has happened here?
Jerry, sat on his backside and tending to his foot looks up at E Z, who reaches down into his trunks and pulls out a steel cup! He holds it aloft for all in attendance to see, still tapping his temple. He turns so everyone can see the steel cup that had been protecting his injured peni–MY GOD!
Jerry David sneaks up behind E Z and drives his arm betwixt his legs!
LOW BLOW!
A low blow to the injured, unprotected penis of E Z Rah!
E Z collapsed to the mat as Jerry gets to his feet, bowing to the audience.
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR…
Jerry collects the steel cup from the mat as E Z writhes in pain. He shows it to the audience, tapping his temple. The crowd lap it up.
FIVE, SIX…
E Z is still in pain but up to all fours, his head bowed, one hand cupping his gentleman’s agreement. Jerry hurls the cup into the tenth row, where there is a minor scuffle as people fight over who wants the cup. It’s none of them. None of them want it. They can’t get out of the way fast enough, and they’re happy to fight in order to avoid having to pick that cup up.
SEVEN… EIGHT…
E Z pulls himself up using the ropes and turns to face his nemesis once more. Jerry is quick on the offence as E Z steps away from the ropes, swinging a wild right that E Z easily ducks. E Z locks in a waist lock and delivers a basic twisting waist lock takedown, which means he now lies on top of Jerry’s back, and Jerry’s face is once again staring at the steel chair.
E Z readjusts his grip, moving up from the waist into a full nelson! Jerry is helpless.
SMASH!
Jerry’s face is smashed into the steel chair!
SMASH!
Again!
SMASH!
Again!
SMASH!
Again!
SMASH!
Again!
E Z relinquishes his grip as Jerry’s body goes limp! He’s out!
ONE, TWO.
E Z breaks the count. He isn’t done here, not by a long shot. He grabs the back of Jerry’s hair and pulls Jerry’s face up and away from the chair. E Z slides the chair out from underneath Jerry and starts to open the chair up. He sets it almost in the centre of the ring, then turns his attention back to Jerry, who he drags over to the chair, placing him face down on the chair, his head sticking out of the back. Jerry is out cold! This match could be over now!
E Z slides out of the ring and hurls the timekeeper from his seat, stealing it from him and folding it shut.
He slides into the ring along with the chair and ascends the first rope. Then the second rope. Then right to the top turnbuckle. He looks unsteady for a moment as the weight of the chair shifts his centre of gravity, but he then looks down at Jerry having regained his balance.
E Z soars through the air, tucking the chair beneath him.
FLYING LEG DROP!
A flying leg drop, with a chair under his ass, onto the neck of Jerry David, which is across the seat of yet another steel chair!
NO! Jerry has been playing opossum! He moves out of the way just in time and E Z lands hard on the steel chair he flew through the air with! He arches his body in pain, Jerry lies flat on his back.
ONE, TWO, THREE.
E Z pulls himself back to his feet.
Jerry pulls himself back to his feet.
Each man now stand in opposing corners. In the ring with them a ladder leans against one of the free turnbuckles. The remainder of a splintered table lies just beneath a ring rope, having been kicked out of the way by the referee. A garbage can lies crushed on the outside of the ring. One chair is set up, one is flat on the mat. It is absolute carnage. Yet both men stand proud, each huffing for oxygen, each wounded, but neither willing to back down.
These men HATE one another. It’s in their DNA. They were born to meet and fall in hate for all of eternity, and destiny has come to play out here tonight.
The two men tie up, each struggling to gain a power advantage over the other. Eventually it’s Jerry who manages to whip E Z into the corner turnbuckle, he runs immediately to him but is met with a large boot to his face. E Z jumps back to sit on the turnbuckle before launching himself at Jerry with a flying European uppercut.
Wanting to make sure Jerry stays down, E Z picks Jerry up and places his head firmly between his legs, he points to the crowd and flexes his muscles to a chorus of boos before lifting Jerry up around his waist and sitting down with a thud, dropping Jerry directly on his head in a package piledriver.
E Z rolls out the ring as the referee starts the count.
ONE!
E Z grabs a steel chair
TWO!
He jumps up onto the apron with it and continues to climb up on the turnbuckle.
THREE!
He waves the chair around his head frantically, a stupid grin on his face before he gets himself into position.
FOUR!
E Z crouches down low and holds the chair below him, with one huge leap he jumps into the air, placing the chair underneath him as he does, hitting a massive top rope double foot stomp into the chair and Jerry.
The chair flies off as the refs count stops and restarts, E Z is rolling about clutching his leg as Jerry holds onto his chest.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
Both men start to stir, E Z makes his way to the ropes.
FOUR! FIVE!
E Z has now propped himself up in the corner, waiting for the win.
SIX!
Jerry is slowly dragging himself to the edge of the ring
SEVEN!
Jerry is finding the strength to pull himself up.
EIGHT!
He manages it! Jerry is back on his feet. E Z screams in frustration as he goes in for the attack, this time he’s met with an elbow to the stomach.
The two men take a moment to catch their breath, as E Z leans against the ropes, Jerry makes a sudden charge for him, raising his leg. He lands with a hard hitting big boot to the jaw of E Z Rah. E Z tumbles over the top rope but manages to hang onto the ropes, leaving him on his knees on the ring apron.
Jerry spots an opportunity. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to E Z and stares down at his stunned foe. He leaps off, extending his arm and grabbing E Z’s head on the way down! The DDT drives E Z hard into the apron, both men tumble onto the floor outside the ring.
The referee starts a count.
ONE! TWO! THREE!
Jerry is using the side of the ring to help himself up, E Z is making his way to a large group of jeering audience members near a barricade.
FOUR!
Jerry is up on his feet. He looks around just in time to see E Z flop unceremoniously over the barricade and into the crowd who start pelting him with drink and food.
Jerry, in order to stop him from getting too far away, gives chase. He leaps over the barricade and makes his way through the crowd.
Just as he spots E Z crawling on the floor, he sees him reaching into his pocket and pulling out a large wad of cash which he then throws into the air.
All around E Z descends into chaos, people from stands around the arena run to the area money is raining down from. This crowd want that money! They want to benefit from E Z’s ‘generosity’.
Jerry tries to push people aside in order to find his tormentor but people are joining the crowd at an alarming pace.
Jerry starts to look all around, desperate to spot any sign of E Z but unfortunately he feels him before he sees him.
CRACK!
A huge chair shot to Jerry’s back causes him to wince and cry out, his shoulders arched backwards, pinching towards one another.
E Z grabs him and throws him back over the barricade to ringside, following him to make sure he stays down, but Jerry doesn’t know well enough. He is already up to his knees.
E Z levels Jerry with another hard chair shot to the back of his head.
CRACK!
Jerry collapses face down.
E Z takes a moment to regain his senses, breathing heavily and looking over his fallen opponent. A wry smile creeps over his lips as he grabs another chair from beneath the ring, setting it up on the floor facing the ring. He drags Jerry to his feet and sits him down in the chair before sliding into the ring and getting to his feet.
Looking down at Jerry and with no regard for either of their safety, he runs at the ropes, rebounding and picking up speed as he charges towards Jerry. With all his agility, he leaps over the ropes, flips and lands back first into the sitting Jerry. The hard impact causes both men to collapse in amongst the bent and disfigured chair, rolling around in agony holding their backs.
Here comes the count!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
E Z starts dragging his way up the steel steps as Jerry tries to grab the edge of the ring.
FIVE!
SIX!
Both men are crawling around, it looks like each movement is causing them great discomfort.
SEVEN!
EIGHT!
E Z is on his feet, clinging to the turnbuckle as Jerry does the same with the ring apron. Both men make their way back into the ring to continue their hard hitting fight, E Z almost falling through the ropes, Jerry barely able to slide under the bottom rope.
E Z hisses through his teeth, spit flinging from his mouth.
Jerry heaves breaths in and out, his eyes fiery with rage.
E Z’s hands run through his hair, his frustration at not being able to put Jerry away is now fully showing. He has one more trick up his sleeve, or rather down his trousers. He reaches in and grabs what appears to be a small black box, a smile creeps across his face as he flicks a switch. It’s a taser!
The electricity crackles away as E Z makes his way towards Jerry, who has the wherewithal to notice what’s going on and quickly slides out the ring. He starts making his way up the ramp, shouting to the officials about the weapon E Z is coming after him with but all they can do is shrug. Jerry starts into a sprint, desperate to avoid E Z who starts to pick up speed taking after him into the back and the endlessly looping arena.
E Z, still in chase, runs desperately through an open doorway in the direction of Jerry, only to be met with an outstretched leg. E Z trips and slides across the floor, taser leaving his hand and spiralling off down the hall. Jerry quickly grabs the back of his head and slams it down into the floor a few times for good measure.
Jerry looks around for a way to finish this once and for all and spots it. A glorious freestanding 7 foot tall sheet of glass with a map of the entire arena printed into it. Very chic. Jerry knows what he has to do, he picks up E Z as best he can and starts to make his way over to the glass map.
The closer he gets, the more speed he picks up until Jerry is running at nearly a sprint, ready to throw E Z straight through the glass. Just as Jerry is about to release him E Z spins and uses Jerry’s own momentum against him. Both men refuse to let go of each other, an apt metaphor for their hatred. They both go careening through the thick glass, shards both small and large shattering and falling all around them. The sound of the shattering glass echoes through the cold, empty halls of the arena as the men thud limply to the concrete floor.
Neither men move as the referee signals for some EMT’s and starts the count:
ONE!
TWO!
Still neither man stirs.
THREE!
FOUR!
Small slits of red start to form over the bodies of E Z and Jerry.
FIVE!
SIX!
Jerry’s hand twitches but neither man is making an attempt to move yet.
SEVEN!
E Z’s leg attempts to push him forward.
EIGHT!
Jerry’s fingers scrape along the floor, finding nothing but shards of glass and pools of blood.
NINE!
Neither man has managed to move further than an inch from the spot they landed.
TEN!
EMT’s rush over to both men as ‘Downtown’ Jason Brown makes the announcement from the centre of the ring.
Ding, ding, ding.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this match is a DRAW!”
The crowd give a mixed reaction. Some still revel in the carnage they have witnessed and others appear irked about the lack of a definitive finish.
One thing is certain though. Although these men may have proved they belong here in GLOBAL, neither one is willing to end this war.
Winner: Draw
Making A Wish Come True
The screen now shows a backstage area with a ton of kids and adults all surrounding one child in a wheel chair. Behind them is the familiar “Make-a-wish” banner that we all have come to know and love.
“This is going to be awesome!” one of the kids exclaims as the child in a wheelchair beams with a prideful smile at living out a dream of being backstage at a wrestling event.
“Well, I’m here!”
The loud voice parts the sea of humanity as the object of the wish appears – or so they thought.
It is Gemini.
Really?
Yes. Gemini, standing in his full ring gear as he steps forward toward the youngster in the wheelchair.
“Hey there little Tommy!” He says as he kneels down next to the chair.
“My name isn’t Tommy,” the child responds.
“I’m sorry, little guy. I took some bumps on the head the last time I granted one of these little wishes,” the masked man replies. “Maybe you saw my wish-granting match with Alex Reyn?”
“You lost,” the child again fires back matter-of-factly. “And I’m a girl.”
Gemini looks over for a second and then looks back toward the camera.
“We all make mistakes, kid.” he continues. “Let’s get this picture and fulfill that wish.”
“I was supposed to meet Sean Darring,” the wheelchair-ridden girl states.
“Darring, Smarring.” He says without missing a beat. “Let’s just fill the wish.”
“No.”
Gemini stands to his feet and looks down at the little girl and all her friends and relatives. None of them have a happy face and in fact a few of the adults look stark-raving mad.
“Can’t I just fulfill another wish and do something nice?” He asks.
“I want to see Sean Darring! That is my wish”
Gemini slowly drops his head with disappointment and walks away. But as he gets a few steps, he turns and makes a simple comment.
“Fuck you, kids.”
He walks away as the camera fades to black.
The Master Sisters Vs. The Rich Family
Tag Team Championships
The first to enter the ring and the contenders for today’s match are Freddie and his cousin, Todd.
They enter the arena clearly focused on the ring, and on what this match means. This could finally be the match that lands them their very first tag team title. Something that every wrestling family dreams of holding, at least once.
As they get in the ring, nodding to the audience who’s cheering them on, and set up in their corner, they await the people that they need to win to finally reach their goal.
The Master Sisters, Aurora, Dawn and Moonlight enter, but only after letting the audience linger a bit to their entrance theme, “Love is a Parasyte” by Blanck Mass. After about a minute or so, Dawn slides in and throws a water balloon, or should we say, a cola balloon, right into the audience. Laughing as it slams face first into a guy on the fourth row.
She signals to the other sister to give her another, but they both look at each other and show their empty arms, bar the usual two titles over Aurora’s shoulder. Dawn lets out a “Bah” and continues to the ring disappointed.
Aurora stops and whispers something to Moonlight, who asks “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I have a plan.” replies the older sister, to which Moonlight shrugs and nods, and then returns back inside, leaving only the two smaller, but older sisters here.
Dawn seems confused for a second, as Aurora jumps into their corner, but quickly shrugs it off and slides in, while Todd starts things out on the Rich side of things.
Both start with a hand grapple, but the Master sister is quick to slip through Todd’s hands and get behind him. He turns around to face her, but she runs past him again and onto the ropes.
She hops on them and jumps back, hitting Todd with a splash that sends both wrestlers to the ground, but Dawn doesn’t take much time on the floor, getting up with a kick-up and hitting Todd with a low dropkick to keep him down. She runs to the springboards again and Moonsaults out of them onto her opponent. Todd tries to get up afterwards, but he quickly gets another kick in the face.
Dawn pauses to pose to the booing audience, letting Todd finally get up, but before he fully recovers, she runs and hits him with an hurricanrara.
Still trying to keep the match on her side, she quickly gets on top of the turnbuckle and jumps into a swanton bomb, but Todd finally manages to outspeed her and rolls out of the way. Dawn still rolls and lands on her feet, however, and runs into Todd, who’s currently trying to get up using the ropes.
He has enough awareness and consciousness to flip the small woman over his head and into the outside, but Dawn continues to show her amazing ability to fall, using the ropes to land on the edge of the ring on her feet. She shouts a “Ta-da!” to the audience, before being pulled back into the ring by a suplex courtesy of Todd. He shakes his head and grabs her, fully understanding the implications of letting her move for even a second. He whips her into a corner and tags Freddie in who runs after her and hits her with the point-blank dropkick he calls “First Class”.
He follows it with a snap suplex into a pin that does not pass the first count. He takes a second to look at Aurora in his opponent’s corner, who was now pulling her feet back out of the ring.
“What?” she asks, but Freddie is already back on the legal sister, grabbing her and setting her up for a successful springboard stretch. Dawn’s complaints are muffled over the loud orders of her older sister to tag her.
Freddie lets her go, and goes for another pin, but she jumps out at one again. He goes to grab her, but she kicks him in the face and rolls to her side of the ring, tagging Aurora in at last.
The sister gets in the ring and hits a shinning wizard on Freddie’s face, then Irish whips him into the corner and goes for a splash, but lands face first on Freddie’s elbow, he pulls himself out of the corner and hits Aurora with a hammerlock DDT, then lands on her starts hitting her with punches. Aurora tries to slip from behind him but Freddie doesn’t let her, getting her up and in position for a suplex that lands.
He grabs Aurora’s legs and puts her in position for a figure four lock, punching her knees to the displeasure of the currently screaming woman. She tries to reach a rope, any rope, but when she realizes that they’re in the middle of the ring, she shifts into trying to hit Freddie, but he avoids her swinging arms.
After about a minute of struggling, the hold is finally broken, but not by any of the legal members, instead, it’s Dawn who decides to rush in and drop a leg… drop into their legs causing both sides to separate and scream in pain.
“Why didn’t you just hit him?!” asked Aurora, grabbing one of her legs, while rolling to the corner. Dawn simply shrugs as an answer, and turns to face Freddie, but before she can act, Todd joins the party and pushes her out of the ring, suicide diving right after her.
Inside the ring, the legal members of each team are currently sitting on opposite corners staring at each other and rubbing their respective legs.
Freddie is the first to get up and despite the pain, rushes to Aurora’s corner, where he’s met with a knee to the face, that seems to cause more pain to the giver than the receiver as Aurora lets out a word I can’t really write here, but let’s assume the microphone didn’t caught it either way.
Freddie grabs her and hits her with a double underhook backbreaker. He studies his surroundings. Aurora’s down by his feet, Todd is currently on his corner, and Dawn is still a bit dizzy on the outside. Seemingly the perfect time he grabs Aurora and sets her up for Filthy Rich, his cradle piledriver, holding her for a second, glancing at the titles outside, and then… music.
Rule Britannia starts playing, causing the Rich Family to turn their heads to the entrance, where the two members of The Best of British are now entering. Todd jumps out of the ring to stand between them and his cousin, while Freddie lets go of the Master sister, and grabs the ropes asking “What do you want?”
The two brits stop still relatively near the entrance and fake indignation.
“Now, now…” says Nigel. “No need to be like that, we’re just here to see our associates defend their titles. Which, by the way, you should be paying more attention to them than us.”
Freddie catches the pink lady running on the outside, and calls for Todd to watch out, but it’s a bit too late as she grabs his neck and lands with a Masterplan, a jumping diamond cutter, that lays him down on the floor.
Aurora uses the distraction to grab Freddie’s legs and catch him in a surprise rolling pin.
One! Two! And Freddie kicks out, to Aurora’s disappointment. Freddie does not have much time to recover since Aurora jumps and hits him with her Bow!, a jumping DDT. She rolls and tags her sister in, who’s already on the corner. She jumps to the turnbuckle and does a pitch perfect split-legged corkscrew moonsault, a move she calls Perfect Chaos. She goes for the pin… One! Two!
Todd slides into the ring and goes to interrupt the count but…
THREE!
Dawn rolls out and she’s hugged by her sister, who’s still holding her knee. Nigel and Rupert get into the ring, clapping and handing the champions their titles as the announcer confirms the result of the match:
“The winners of this match, and STILL your Global Tag Team Champions… The Master Sisters!”
The group of Brits leave the ring, celebrating, while Todd is left sitting by his fallen cousin.
Winner: The Master Sisters
The Case For Reyn
Jabari Crossover, decked out in an exquisite gray suit, walks confidently through the backstage area of GLOBAL Studios in Hollywood, followed by the GLOBAL camera crew. The soft thud of his boots echoes down the corridor as he makes his way towards Mark Deltzer. Jabari asks Mark in his gravelly but confident voice, ‘Hey Mark, quick question, who do you think is going to come out on top in the main event tonight between Alex Reyn, Sean Darring, or Daniel Dream?’
The Mark, who hasn’t changed yet and is sporting his normal black short-sleeved T-shirt, ripped trainers and bright, white Nike sneakers ponders it for a second. ‘Tough question, and I’ve been asking myself that for the last three weeks. I’ll go for Reyn, because he’s crazy, reckless, unconventional and will do just about anything to get the job done. You haven’t even seen HALF of what he’s capable of, I don’t think I’ve seen it completely myself, and that in itself is scary, Jabari.’
Jabari nods thoughtfully at Mark’s response before replying, ‘I hear you, Mark. Reyn’s definitely a wild card in this match, and we’ve seen him unleash some brutal attacks on his opponents before. But I wonder if that kind of vicious style will be effective against someone like Daniel Dream, who’s known for his precision strikes. And don’t forget about Sean Darring, he’s pulled off some surprising wins with his ability to reverse his opponents’ moves. It’s going to be a tough match to call.’
Deltzer holds his hands up. ‘No doubt, Dream and Darring have been unbelievable from day one. I’ve been a fan of Dream’s for a long time, and there’s a lot to love about ‘Legend’ Sean Darring, too. It’s so hard to call, but Reyn is wild, unpredictable and in a three-way match, where the action will spill out onto the floor, lots of room to use the surrounding environment, weapons and things of that nature, it all favors Alex Reyn, unfortunately.’
Jabari nods in agreement and responds. ‘You’re right, Reyn is so wild and unpredictable that even someone like Sean Darring, who’s known for his reversals, might not be able to anticipate his next move. And with the ref being lenient in his previous matches, who knows what kind of madness we could see in the main event of GLOBAL’s first pay-per-view?’
Mark lets out a little chuckle. ‘You’ll have to tune in to find out. Pleasure, Jabari.’
Crossover smiles and says. ‘I’ll be tuning in from here in the back. Pleasure as always, Mark.’
Jabari shakes Mark’s hand before walking off.
The Invention of the Cowbell
Vienna, Austria.
Monday, 17th October 1825.
A greying man sits alone in front of a grand piano inside a vast room painted a fresh beige. His hair is wavy and long, parted in the centre. He is wrapped up warm with a red cravat warming his neck and chest, tucked neatly into his white dress shirt, on top of which a thick red jacket is wrapped around him.
A large fire roars beneath an ornate mantelpiece, warming the room and acting as its only source of light.
The room is dark on account of two reasons; firstly, that night has drawn in early this evening, and secondly that the long, heavy curtains having been drawn across the floor to ceiling windows, of which there are two.
Three cream settees sit in front of the roaring fire, neatly organised around a busy rug. Beyond those there is nothing but empty space and the grand piano at which the man sits, engrossed in his work.
The man, already well-known for his exceptional musical compositions, has been gradually losing his hearing over the last few years and his health has declined alongside it. Despite this, his passion for composing music hasn’t faltered. If anything, the loss of his hearing has driven him forward, eager to complete as much work as possible before his inevitable and rapidly approaching death.
‘Knowing that you are living on borrowed time has a way of inspiring a man to action’, he would tell people.
Currently he is working on a piece that will become known as ‘Für Elise’, a piece he knows is to be his finest piece to date. Not only the composition, but its inspiration is the most divinely beautiful thing he has known in his long life.
Therese Malfatti is a wild haired beauty, with eyes darker than the deepest ocean. She is the daughter of a Viennese merchant and cousin to the infinitely wealthy and intelligent Johann Baptist Malfatti von Monteregio. But her riches and connections are not what draws the composer to her. Rather it is her astonishing beauty and sharp wit.
This composition, inspired by Therese, and written for her, is to be his gift to her on the day that he will ask for her hand in marriage.
He tinkers with the ivory keys of his grand piano before making a note on a sheet of paper that sits on top of the piano.
“Es fehlt etwas…” he ponders. “Aber was… Aber was?”
As he sits thinking about what the missing touch might be, his eye is caught by the flames of the fire, which flicker wildly.
“Ein haunch.” he mutters to himself with a shake of his head.
Just as he looks back at the keys of his piano, the flames of the fire roar loudly, as though they have been doused in gasoline. At the same time they also turn a vibrant purple.
The composer looks up again, his eyes growing wide with terror.
“Was ist das?” he exclaims, his body becoming rigid with fear.
He jumps up and away from the piano stool, backing away from the fire until…
BUMP.
The composer turns to look at what he has bumped into, knowing the room to be empty between the piano and the door on the south wall. What he sees elicits a scream from his mouth so loud and so forceful that it is almost silent.
Standing before him is a man in a Hawaiian shirt, wearing a flower lei, beige cargo shorts and white flip flops. This is fashion that is as-yet unseen in the 1800s. In one hand he holds half a coconut with a paper umbrella and straw sticking out of the top. In the other hand he is holding a cowbell. More bizarre than any of these things though is what the man is wearing on his head. An upturned purple bag of Doritos Flamas.
“¡Arriba Arriba!” the man exclaims in a high pitched voice as he throws the coconut up into the air.
Doritos sprints around the piano and back in front of the composer, catching the coconut in his hand without spilling a drop.
Then, without warning, Doritos smashes the cowbell across the composers head.
DINNNNNNNNNG!
The composer collapses into his piano stool, his body slumping backwards onto the keys.
DUNNNNNNG!
Thick, dark blood trickles from the grey hairline of the composer as he weakly tries to sit himself up, groaning as the piano keys clunk under the elbow that is propping him up.
“You’re nearly there, Gringo! All you need is a little more…”
DINNNNNNNNNG!
“Cowbell!” Doritos finishes, smashing the cowbell into the composer’s head again, knocking him off the stool and to the floor.
Doritos leans over the man, his stool, and the piano, putting his drink down on top of the piano and grabbing the quill. He makes a few notes on the paper, drops the quill on top of it, grabs his drink and takes a long sip on the straw.
“¡Andale Ándale!” Doritos exclaims, “Get back to work, Beethoven”.
Doritos kicks the ribs of the unconscious composer gently.
“Come on Ese, no time to waste. In years to come people gon’ say this is your Magnum Opus.”
The composer lies still. He is completely unconscious.
Doritos shrugs and puts his drink back on the piano. He takes a final momentary glance at the unconscious composer, stands the cowbell up next to his drink and charges at full speed towards the roaring purple fireplace, leaping into the fire and disappearing up the chimney.
The flames will soon die down to a calming ember, rumbling below the spent logs of the fire, crackling with a relaxing asymmetrical melody.
In a short while the composer will regain consciousness, finish the Piña colada in the coconut, and add the cowbell to the pile of instruments he owns.
Later ‘Für Elise’ will be considered Beethoven’s finest work, despite it containing no cowbell whatsoever.
Jed Johnson Vs. Valorie Vitality
‘Take it away, Allie.’ Lucas smiles, giving the pink-haired and red-dressed announcer the opportunity to recount the rivalry between Jed Johnson and Valorie Vitality.
‘On Domination Two, Valorie Vitality had a bee in her bonnet and DESTROYED Jed Johnson.’
We are taken back to the event as rhythmic stomps that signal the end as she watches Jed try to rise. ‘Sweet Chin Remi-DEAR GOD!!’ Quinn almost yelps as the roundhouse busts Jed open!
Then a scorpion kick splits his lip!
“Ow!” Allie on commentary visibly winces!
“STOP! STOP! HE’S ALREADY DEAD!!” Yells a terrified Mark!
A bloody Jed Johnson drops like a stone, and Valerie places her foot on his chest.
‘If that wasn’t enough, she repeated the feat on Domination Five. It may have gone longer, but it was no less dominant as Valorie found ANOTHER way to beat Jed.’
“Jed is OUT,” Allie declares.
“It’s over,” Lucas concludes.
Valorie completes the third phase of Solider’s Final Flight, her tremendous Triple Moonsault, to do the double over ‘Double J.’
‘Here we are. Apparently, those wins don’t count, according to so-called Wrestling Historian Jed Johnson, oh and here he comes.’
No fanfare, no music, a rarity for professional wrestling in 2023, particularly for a special event or pay-per-view, but Jed Johnson is being booed to the ring. Talk about no frills. The white of Domination 5 is replaced by red tights and a black trim, with Johnson emblazoned down the right side.
Quinn throws it out there. ‘Here we go, what can Jed Johnson do differently?’
‘A lot.’ The Mark replies.
‘Nothing.’ Reece retorts.
Jed rolls underneath, and struts around the squared circle, primed for action, looking around The Globe.
‘Okay, I’ll bite. What do you mean by that?’ Deltzer wonders.
Allie obliges. ‘She’s beaten him TWICE, and this guy isn’t the wrestler he thinks he is, or the one he’s convinced you he is. He’s technically sound, and he does a few submissions, but what else is there? I’ll say it here and now – Jed Johnson is basic, something that Valorie Vitality isn’t. She’s a brilliant all-rounder, and Jed is one-dimensional. He won’t change, so how can he win? He can’t. Stop conning everyone at home that he can, guys. They’re not stupid.’
Blow Me Away by Breaking Benjamin
As the male vocals permeate through the now roaring crowd and the arena darkens, the flag of the Marines can be seen on the projector above the entrance before suddenly glitching into the Marine’s insignia, the word VITALITY appearing in front of it when the first guitar riff begins. As the first verse is sung the lights cut back on as smoke surrounds the entrance, a silhouette slowly making its way through. The crowd simply roars louder as they see Valorie Vitality make her way to the ring, ignoring extended hands her way as she focuses on the task at hand. Approaching the apron, she climbs on top, hanging onto the top rope before using it to propel herself up and over. She could only take a deep breath as she looks around at the packed-out arena, hearing chants of “VALORIE! VALORIE!”. It is a bit of a confidence boost that is starting to calm her slight nerves, and she moves to take off the dog-tags once again from around her neck, kissing it and muttering something before handing it off to an official for safe keeping. With all of that done, she makes her way to the corner of the ring, brushing a lock of her black hair behind her ear as she waits patiently for the bell to sound.
Quinn goes into selling mode. ‘A wonderful competitor, woman, and role model. As Allie will attest to, no doubt, she didn’t even have to give Jed a rematch. Everyone, besides Jed, knows Valorie won their two matches fairly and squarely, yet here we are and Allie, how do you rate Jed’s chances of avenging the two previous losses?’
Reece replies. ‘Not highly, not surprisingly, and it’s like you didn’t listen to a word I just said, BUT it is his type of match as The Mark has reminded me all week, and he should have a better idea of what she’s like, having been in there twice. She’s got too much for him in almost every department, and she will make the so-called great wrestler submit. I don’t see it personally. Jed’s okay, decent even, but he’s no Sean Darring, now. Come on, let’s be real.’
And the sound of the bell makes this one real, for the third time, it’s Valorie Vitality versus Jed Johnson and the winner must make their opponent submit.
Jed circles Valorie, mouthing some obscenities, clearly trying to get into Vitality’s head, which Allie dismisses as ‘a waste of time’ on commentary. Jed continues circling Vitality, dictating the terms of the Collar-and-Elbow before eventually electing to engage. Valorie emerges victorious from this exchange, forcing Jed back to the top right-hand corner, only for Jed to turn the tables and stick Valorie there, which no one does, obviously. She isn’t having any of it, swivelling Johnson around, and this time, she applies an appropriate amount of technique and strength that Jed has no answer, stuck to the buckles, and unable to escape. The official calls for a clean break, which leads to a great deal of caution on both sides, neither wanting to give the other an inch, and it is surprisingly honored.
UNTIL…Jed fires in a rapid right, which Valorie reads perfectly, blocking it in the process. Vitality returns fire with a fabulous roundhouse right and follows up with a lovely-looking left and this is going to get ugly early on. The referee steps between them, ordering the eager warriors to stand down, but among the melee, Jed somehow sneaks a right over the top, connecting with Vitality’s forehead.
Duncan knows something happened, he’s not daft, hence why he’s officiating this one, but you can’t call what you can’t see, after all. Meanwhile, Valorie clutches at her forehead and decides to get even when the path is cleared for them to engage again, grounding Johnson with a swift Double Leg Takedown and mounting the poor guy, hammering away with a succession of lefts and rights, all peppering Johnson’s forehead, cheeks and chin, totalling seven until Duncan’s count reaches four. Frustrated, hands on hips, Valorie and Duncan have an inaudible exchange, well that is until we pick up ‘I’m taking no shit from either of you.’ No prizes for guessing who that is.
Johnson has fled to the outside, cursing himself, probably in a bid to get back on track, though after tasting two defeats to Valorie, that is arguable. According to Johnson though, they were tainted, hence why we’re here for a threepeat. Jed hears the count and laughs to himself incredulously. Given the stipulation, he believes the referee, Duncan Sullivan, is being daft. However, after doing a couple of laps round the ring, stopping once to glare at an indignant fan, Johnson opts not to tempt fate and rolls back in on the stroke of 7.
What awaits him is a Collar-and-Elbow, instigated by Valorie this time, and it’s a momentary gateway into an intense and nasty-looking Side Headlock. Try and he might, once again, the experience and ‘expert’ grappler cannot find the emergency exit, which Reece deems worrying for Johnson.
‘The so-called wrestler cannot get out of one of the most basic moves in wrestling, applied by a former solider and gymnast. I wonder what excuses Jed will have in store later on.’
Quinn nods along ‘I happen to agree.’
His go-to move appears to be a handful of hair, and Duncan reprimands him for that. However, Johnson tries it a second time anyway, purely out of desperation, and Duncan prises Jed’s hands away from Valorie, extracting a cheer for the official and some mat-stomping by an irate Jed from underneath.
‘HEY MAN.’
Referee Sullivan kneels over and waggles his finger. ‘Stop pulling at the hair or I’ll be forced to take action.’
Unable to make the third time the charm, Jed changes gears and ushers some hard rights to the liver, weaking Vitality enough to help Jed get back on his feet. Johnson’s comeback trail doesn’t last long at all, mind, with Vitality ‘trolling’ Jed by taking him back to the mat with a second Side Headlock.
Allie applauds. ‘Beautiful and look at his childish reaction.’ Vitality also affords herself a smile, which in turn draws decent applause from the audience.
Reece continues her gloating and self-appointed role as Valorie’s cheerleader ‘So far, so good, and it’s all going Valorie’s way – again. Is ANYONE surprise?’
Jed has to go back to the start, and he has been running in circles while these two are tails apart. Anyway, JJ is at least up to a vertical base, albeit with VV in control via the never-ending Side Headlock, na na na na na na. That soon changes, though, as Jed summons the strength, while still at Valorie’s mercy with the Side Headlock, to counter with a timely Shinbreaker. That on its own isn’t enough to cause separation, but it encourages him to double his money, and he does so. Lifting Vitality a little bit higher, Johnson’s follow-up Kneebreaker snaps the Side Headlock, and Vitality tends to her leg, without hitting the mat.
A short-range Lariat does the trick. Jed is booed while he holds the back of his head, feeling the effects in the early going. He looks out at the crowd and tells them to shut up, which doesn’t go down well, but hey, what do you expect?
‘Perhaps this is what Jeds need to do to gee himself up.’ Deltzer suggests.
‘He’s just a, I’d better not say that word with kids listening.’ Reece replies, risking (and then saving) her job as a result.
A Snap Suplex, perfectly done, gives Johnson a glimmer of hope, though Reece cuts right through that narrative immediately. ‘A false dawn if you ask me.’
Another second Snap Suplex, again right out of the manual, and a third to make it a hat trick quietens the crowd, though you can’t fail to hear the sound of Valorie’s spine striking the canvas.
Jed holds his arms aloft, seeking accolades that aren’t forthcoming anytime soon. While Reece trashes his time-wasting antics, Johnson does get back to the task at hand, and applies a Seated Abdominal Stretch.
‘This won’t make Valorie tap out.’ Reece bemoans, mocking Jed’s ‘lame’ submission.
‘It doesn’t have to. Yes, she’s in tremendous condition, but this could drain her energy, especially if he keeps doing that.’ The Mark observes.
THAT being a series of stiff-looking left-handed forearms to the ribs, which visibly annoy Vitality. However, why get mad when you can get even. Valorie, roarer on by the masses, picks herself (and Jed, I guess) up off the mat, and finds the key to the escape room with a HARD Hip Toss to the ground. Before she can pounce, however, Jed has the sense to roll away, using the middle and bottom rope to slide underneath and out to the floor.
‘Smart move by Jed there.’ Quinn surmises.
‘It wasn’t so smart when he angered Valorie, was it?’ Allie has a comeback for everything where this rivalry is concerned.
Eager to get at Jed, she’s advised to take a step back, which she ignores, not allowing Duncan Sullivan the time or space to start the count. Unfortunately, it’s to her detriment as Jed trips her from the outside, via the bottom rope. He now has control of her leg and rams it into the edge of the apron on the south side of the squared circle not once, nor twice, but THRICE. This changes the complexion of the submission-oriented affair for one Jed Johnson.
Valorie slithers away. A smile etched on his face, Jed heads back into the battleground, only to roll back out, presumably because he has changed his mind on something. Instead, he stands on the apron, where he has just done damage, and get this, SLINGSHOT SPLASHES Valorie’s affected right leg!
‘What a hypocrite.’ Reece concludes.
‘He may be, but that still targeted the lower body, and hurts Vitality.’ The Mark offers up.
‘If he wins, will it be recognized, though?’
‘By us or him, Allie? We all recognize Valorie as being two-up in this series.’ Deltzer reasons.
Whether or not Jed has betrayed his principles is up for debate, but Jed does go back to what he knows best with a trio of Legbreakers, each one sounding more vicious than the previous one.
‘Jed Johnson is now wrestling EXACTLY the kind of match he’s always wanted.’ Quinn comments, above the boos being directed at the Atlanta-born, mat-based, big-headed, old-school villain of the piece, standing (relatively) tall in the center of the ring right now.
Jed drags Vitality to the west side, placing the prone right leg on the bottom rope. Johnson keeps it low with a pair of Seated Sentons, and again you could argue they’re technically high-flying moves usually. Johnson mocks Vitality’s reaction by hobbling away, prompting more jeers from the crowd and the biggest one of all is a direct result of Jed telling them to, and I quote, ‘go fuck themselves.’ Beat that, anonymous GM.
‘What a difference a minute or two can make in a wrestling match.’ Lucas says, potentially stirring the pot with Allie Reece on the rampage. Strangely, Allie stays silent.
Quinn continues. ‘It looked like Valorie was going to have it all her own way again, but we’ve got a detour, for now at least, and Jed can have NO complaints if he doesn’t get the job done tonight.’
Texas Cloverl—egs up, Valorie forces Jed back against the ropes, and he pretends to hit his head on the back of the rope and falls forward, ‘accidenally’ dropping a headbutt to the abdomen.
The crowd is up in arms at that one, Allie Reece being the ringleader of course, and Duncan Sullivan isn’t totally taken in by it. However, he cannot prove it wasn’t accidental either. He warns Jed, regardless, and Johnson protests his innocence.
Johnson asks. ‘Are you going to disqualify me?’
Duncan replies sternly. ‘Not yet.’
Jed shrugs his shoulders and gets back to work. ‘No? Okay then.’
Texas Cloverleaf, take two and action. No, wait, time out. Before he does, Jed drags Valorie away from the ropes, dead center, and then applies it. In spite of some fight back, Jed’s twist on this tried and tested submission has the final say, and it is on!
Defiantly, Valorie refuses to surrender, shouting ‘NO’ four times right off the bat while simultaneously dealing with the pain and issue of figuring this potential headache that makes her leg ache.
‘Stop asking her. She’s not giving in to Jed Johnson.’ Allie deduces.
Just as Valorie’s making some headway, Jed pulls the rug from out underneath her and everyone at The Globe, dragging her back to where it all started – the middle of the ring. One step forward, and two steps back. Jed remembers the Side Headlock from earlier on, and is now returning the favor, albeit with a far more dangerous and effective submission, especially when you consider the end game of this decisive fight in the three-part series which has mostly gone Valorie’s way.
Jed expertly leans back, milking the submission for all it’s worth and posing problems Vitality has never experienced in a wrestling ring.
‘This is the first real gut check for Valorie, but it was for Amber Lee earlier in a GLOBAL ring, and she passed the test. Can Valorie follow in Amber’s footsteps?’ Quinn contemplates.
‘Can? She will.’ Reece proclaims.
The Mark utters a line he’s bound to regret later on. ‘Has Jed Johnson, at long last, finally worked Valorie Vitality out?’
‘WHAT? What did you just say?’
Quinn plays peacekeeper. ‘Could it be third time lucky, I guess is what Mark is saying. Jed’s faring better.’
‘She has beaten him TWICE, and she’s going to do it better. If Jed has got Valorie figured out, then I don’t know what that says about him. You two are unbelievable and speaking of two, Jed Johnson is wrestling’s equivalent of two plus two.’
Ouch! Quinn sensibly heads in a different direction. ‘Look at Valorie fight this, and her legs are critical, it’s where a lot of her strength comes from, plus you factor in her agility and flexibility, and that may also be why Jed has targeted the legs, beyond being a technical wrestler. It has worked – to a degree. But, Vitality, defiant, telling the official no every few seconds, and she’s up, carrying over three hundred pounds between her and Jed Johnson. Everyone here wants her to do it, she can do it, and she is doing it. Inches away from the bottom rope. One MONUMENTAL effort to get there and get there she does. YES!’
A cheer goes up at the sight of Valorie lying in the ropes, that took a lot out, but it has kept her in the contest and can she build from here? Jed prolongs the agony a little bit longer, no surprises there, and releases on four. He is given a little telling-off, smarting from not getting the job done, and is heavily breathing himself, tongue hanging out, hands on hips, fuming that Valorie reached the ropes.
After a few seconds away, Johnson turns around and comes back to pick the bones, only for Vitality to shock him with a couple of well-times and well-aimed kicks to the lower stomach, the second one flooring Johnson. Backed by the fans, Vitality mounts Johnson, who to his credit covers up better than in previous exchanges, weathering some of Valorie’s eight punches on the elbows and shoulders, though 50% of them still find their intended mark. Sensing an intervention by Duncan Sullivan, Valorie peels herself off, allowing a woozy Jed to get back to his feet. When he does, like your regular person getting out of bed in the morning, Vitality threatens to put him back to sleep with a devastating Double Roundhouse Kick, the first steps of Sweet Chin Remix, and the baton is firmly back in the hands of the impressive debutant. Maybe she has worked Johnson out, once and for all.
A big Biel throw, normally more befitting of a monstrous powerhouse, tosses Johnson into the corner with authority, and he hurts his back upon hitting the top turnbuckle. Valorie softens Jed up with a barrage of punches, the volume ascending with each passing blow, and Jed is hapless. Valorie, enraged, beats Johnson down to the bottom rope, not for the first time in their trilogy, and then sticks her left boot on Johnson’s throat, prompting a count. She breaks on three and a half.
Lucas recalls. ‘Shades of her debut against El Principe, who we’re convinced said something to rile her up.’
‘What happened to him? Where is he now?
‘That’s out of order.’ The Mark comments.
A Russian Legsweep brings Jed out of the corner, and Sullivan looks like he’s going to count, but Valorie nixes that by choosing to mount Jed and fire off with another quartet of punches, none of which Johnson is able to defend or evade on this occasion.
‘She has solved this puzzle.’ Reece gloats.
Valorie looks down on Jed, allowing him to get up. An awesome Axe Kick puts him right back where he belongs in many people’s eyes, and she issues a follow-up to the spine, making it a Double Tap Axe Kick. Jed favors his back and in doing so, leaves himself open to a Sleeper.
The older-than-the-hills hold is applied, and this looks like it is in Valorie’s hands, figuratively and yes, even literally.
‘Compared to your standard, this is a different weapon altogether. She may be seen as a wrestling novice, but she applies a move like this so differently to your average wrestler, look at the torque on it and also, look at the ‘expert’s’ face which is turning seven shades of purple right about now.’ Reece beams.
In fairness, she’s not wholly inaccurate. Johnson looks like a supermarket shelf’s worth of Ribena.
Jed is clasping away, unable to get away, and Duncan Sullivan is having a close look at whether the Sleeper is legal or not. He deems it above board, much to the chagrin of the fading Jed, who is flailing away like a pensioner fending off a mugger with her handbag, however here, it works. After five blows, he forces his way to freedom, but can’t voice his complaints to Duncan due to all of the coughing and spluttering he’s undergoing.
Vitality doesn’t let Jed breathe, yes that is completely intentional, and an Irish Whip is followed by a Reverse Elbow, and Vitality kips up thereafter, showcasing her agility, resilience and amazing condition, not to mention the control she’s now exerting over this contest. If that isn’t enough for you, or for Jed, she’s standing over Johnson and set to apply, WHOO…
A Figure Four.
‘One of the go-to submissions for many a wrestler, past or present, experienced or inexperienced, and pretty good technique by Valorie. She’s more of a striker and a high flyer, but this is a submission move after all, and puts pressure on several different points.’ Quinn informs our viewers at home.
‘Does it play into Jed’s strengths?’ The Mark thinks out loud.
Not three seconds later, Jed is able to reverse, proving Deltzer right. More importantly, he quickly tries to use the ropes, which Duncan spots and immediately instructs Jed ‘not to even try it.’
Jed drags Valorie with him towards the ropes, anyway, but she’s able to reverse it back into her original Figure Four. Smartly, Johnson breaks the hold by touching the middle rope, and Valorie breaks on three before both of them limp away from the scene, worse for wear.
They circle one another, again, cautious, and yet predatory at the same time, not wanting to give away something silly or commit a major mistake, particularly Jed.
‘Valorie has so much to lose here despite winning twice already. Will Jed rematch Valorie if, by some fluke, he wins? I doubt it. Valorie has to win to shut him up once and for all, and not let all of her hard work go down the drain.’
A Leg Sweep by Valorie shows Vitality is starting to head down a submission-oriented path, albeit still showcasing her sensational striking skills, and just as Jed gets to one knee, he’s stung with a second effort. That must be annoying.
Vitality has Johnson at her mercy and what does she have in mind for him next? An Irish Whip, no, she pulls Jed in for a Flatliner and Valorie’s not done there as she transitions beautifully into…
CODE OF SILENCE.
Jed isn’t silent, far from it, but he’s also defiant, refusing to lose to this particular move. Vitality’s legs are wrapped around Jed’s head, akin to an anaconda, as he she uses her free left hand to support her own frame plus it adds extra, agonizing leverage to this terrific submission hold, allowing Allie to forecast pending doom for Jed Johnson.
‘This is it, right here, even if Jed doesn’t tap out, he will later on. In each match Valorie has had, there has been a point where she just runs away with it, and we’ve reached that point, gentlemen. She’s outwrestling the wrestler, and there’s nothing Jed can do to her, EXCEPT THAT.’
Sorry, the yelling is due to watching Jed sink his gnashers into Valorie’s leg, something very few people would be prepared for.
‘He’ll regret doing that. He had better make this HIS moment and turning point, because if he doesn’t, Valorie Vitality is going to do what I heard one podcast host say and bury his body in the desert, where they can’t find him.’
‘Desperate men.’ The Mark chips in.
Quinn agrees. ‘Absolutely. Valorie is hobbling worse than she has, and so is Jed. You’re right, Allie, Valorie looks MAD right now. She needs to keep her cool.’
Obviously, Vitality cannot hear Quinn, just as well really, and it shows. After being careful not to make too many mistakes, Valorie’s overzealousness sees her storm into a Drop Toehold, and that’s not all Johnson has in store for his rival.
Muta Lo-Elbows by Valorie stop Jed from getting what he wants. He moves away. As Valorie rises to her feet again, Jed lures her into a Lariat attempt, beckoning her to attack, and the Atlanta technician regains the upper hand with a sublime Tiger Suplex!
‘Jed’s got a taste for it.’ Quinn reckons.
In fact, it seems he does, at least when it comes to Suplexes. No point in going for a pinfall, of course, or he would have. But, Jed wants to do more damage, and a Vertical Suplex is next on the agenda. Valorie has other ideas, landing on her feet behind the antagonist of the piece. Instead, just as we have discussed the lack of pinfalls, it looks like Vitality has forgotten the stipulation by rushing Johnson towards the ropes in search of a Schoolboy/Schoolgirl pin, though it’s a setup for a Sharpshooter, or perhaps even the Texas Cloverleaf that Jed used so successfully against her earlier on.
Jed kicks her straight off, but she stops herself and by the time Jed is up, he’s soon back down, courtesy of an outstanding Overhead Kick.
In spite of Jed’s beliefs, Vitality is going to use the ropes here. She hops over and out onto the apron, preparing herself to come back in once Jed climbs to his feet for the umpteenth time tonight. Valorie braces herself and lets Jed have it with a dazzling..
Dragonrana!
Naturally, you may expect a pinning predicament to follow, but what fans aren’t expecting, nor Jed, is an STF Camel Clutch, and the GLOBAL Nation can be forgiven for not realizing the significance of this, because Johnson is in immediate danger right now for this is one of Valorie’s three finishers, and it’s on in a submission match.
Before she can fully pull back, Jed, who may have been wise to this somehow, edges close to the ropes to avert a major scare. Allie predicts it’s only a matter of time and Jed won’t have any arguments, or even a case for one, when Valorie goes three for three, and on this occasion, it’s done via submission.
Jed baits Valorie in and Vitality bites. He thinks he’s got the better of her with a Back Body Drop, only for her to land on the apron. When he turns around…
Springboard Face Crusher!
And not only that…
Right back to the STF Camel Clutch, otherwise known as…
THE.
LAST.
HOORAH.
Allie breaks the move name to the boys on commentary, and wonders if it is, unsurprisingly and ultimately reaching the conclusion that it is the end of Jed Johnson’s journey.
Lucas, more animated than usual, sets the scene. ‘Jed is hanging in there, but Allie may well be right. He’s in agony, he’s got nowhere to go and yet, you know he cannot stomach the thought of surrendering to Valorie Vitality.’
‘If he doesn’t quit, will he have a career?’ The Mark asks.
‘He’s done, either way.’ Reece believes.
‘There’s life beyond wrestling, and Jed knows that which is why his hand is cocked. Will he give it up here? He can’t bear the thought of losing, but at the same time, he’s risking serious damage every single second he’s stuck in this submission move, and the pain must be even more unbearable, which is why, YES, he has to tap out and Valorie Vitality is victorious for the third time!’
‘I told you both, and all of you at home. That was Jed’s best performance, but ultimately, Valorie’s on another level and maybe, just maybe, he’ll give her some respect.’
Duncan Sullivan raises Vitality’s arm into the air as she stands up, but before her celebration can get started, we have an interruption.
Music blares out, but it isn’t ‘Blow Me Away.’ The guitar riffs of ‘Police Truck’ by The Dead Kennedys virtually deafens the capacity crowd here in The Globe.
Two skyscrapers, 6’9 and 6’6 respectively, saunter out. Dressed in LAPD uniforms, they walk side by side, biceps building through their blue tops. Tanned with a crew cut, black hair in case you’re wondering and a smarmy expression most would want to wipe right off that kisser, Brady looks mean, keen and ready for business. His partner, the brushed-forward brown hair of the slightly smaller Strauss, who by virtue of being smaller, more agile and quicker, starts running to the ring, having got his night stick out. Okay, BEHAVE!
‘Oh no.’ The Mark exclaims, worried.
‘These guys, Brady and Strauss, are The Law and I’ve got a feeling they’re here on Jed Johnson’s orders, not Valorie’s, OH!’
Strauss rams the night stick straight into Valorie’s ribs and a Double Axe Handle-like club from the stick to the back of the neck puts Vitality on her back. Strauss tends to Johnson, ignorant to the capacity crowd’s disdain and disapproval, and to make matters worse, here comes the bigger Brady to pick at the carcass.
Our timekeeper repeatedly rings the bell in a bit to deter The Law, but Brady steps over the top rope. Johnson hugs Strauss, grateful to see him, and Strauss throws the hand cuffs to Brady, who has his back to the entrance, focused on ‘arresting’ Valorie Vitality for ‘crimes against wrestling’ if that’s even a thing. However, just as Brady’s about to enjoy himself, the fans’ jeers suddenly turn to cheers as two figures explode through the entrance curtain and come pelting down to the ring to engage the two members of The Law! Saul Morgan quickly puts the nearest man, Brady, in a sleeper hold, yanking him bodily away from Val, while Angel runs to the far end to shoulder-tackle Strauss – then, when this proves less effective than initially predicted, to follow up with a somewhat more effective headbutt, which throws the man off-balance, priming him for a leg sweep! No sooner does the second Lawman hit the floor than the Latina mounts him, grabbing his lapel and landing a series of punches to his face, each punctuated by a vitriolic sentence fragment.
“GET! OFF! MY! FRIEND! ‘PEN’! ‘DEJO’!”
She punctuates this last word with an uppercut, which lays Strauss out for good – punches to the head are, after all, still punches to the head, regardless of the age and physique of the person delivering them – then rolls off the top of her quarry and pulls herself to her feet, the better to go and check on Valorie. It is with Saul letting go of his equally unconscious opponent and joining his concerned partner in helping their mutual friend to her feet – under a thunderous ovation from the fans in attendance – that the scene shifts elsewhere.
Winner: Valorie Vitality
Act III
We open up to aerial shots of Hollywood, Los Angeles. Flashing between night and day. Cut in between them are shots of Giovanni at press conferences, walking the Red Carpet and waving to cheering fans.
‘We’re aiming to be different to every other organization on the planet. Wrestling, as we know it, is not what it once was. Tastes have changed, society has evolved, and we don’t want to fill the void that UWE left. We want to be bigger, bolder, braver. This is not just the birth of a new wrestling organization.’
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. Voice over of Giovanni plays over all of this.
‘Here at GLOBAL, we are proud to introduce the man competing in our first main event, the legend himself, Sean Darring.’
Darring humbly says. ‘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. 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.’
The scene fades out.
Cue ‘Wasted Time” by Hollow Point Heroes.
Cut to the surprise debut of Daniel Dream.
The Mark exclaims. ‘Holy sh- DANIEL DREAM??!! One of the fastest rising stars in our industry! Former IBW World Champion! United States Champion! And a record setting tag team champion!’
All my eyes have ever seen
Was a long and empty road ahead
A fiery light will lead me through the darkest days
And darkest nights
Destination set, I’m well on my way
No more conflicts will keep me at bay
My mission is clear now
It’s time to execute the plan
Shots cutting back and forth between the final minutes of the match and Darring’s interview on 02. We see Darring counter the American Dream submission into a pinfall for the CLOSE victory.
Darring recounts their battle. ‘Everyone that has stepped inside the ring knows you win more matches because you are lucky than you do because you are just that darn good. I learned early in my career that it’s better to be lucky than great and unlucky. Tonight, I am okay with Daniel Dream being great and myself being lucky.
I can’t stop ’til they’re singing
I won’t stop ’til they’re screaming
With me, with me
My heart left on a train today
But my mind and body went a different way
Take some time to clear your mind
And when the sun shines, it’ll be okay
We’ll all live to fight another day
There’s no such thing as wasted time
Wasted time
We see the final minutes of Daniel Dream vs. Alfie Button. Dream knocking Alfie out with the American Revolution. A voiceover of Daniel Dream plays over the action
“You are looking at the real MVP. I watched as everybody, EVERYBODY, tried to live up to my legacy. And surprise, surprise, everybody failed. I hear you claiming that I’m not worthy, I’m not deserving of my position here in this company. I’m beginning to think people have forgotten just exactly who the hell I am and just exactly how the hell I became your MVP. Darring, here’s what you don’t seem to understand, since you and I have crossed paths, you have only been dealing with ‘masked Daniel.’ But you’ll find the further we go on this journey, the closer we get to the Magnum Opus, the match you THINK you want, and the more my mask is going to begin to slip off. You see, you might think you’re the Legend. But even the Legend is no match for the Carnivore behind the mask.”
Follow the masses and tip your glasses
To a bright and ever filling world
Of rock star dreams and second chances
Just clap your hands and keep on dancing
The stage is set, it’s judgement day
The time has come to make it on our way
Nothing can stop us
And you will see, you will see the day
We cut to the debut of Alex Reyn. We see him silhouetted against the flames like a nightmarish spectre. We see him tearing apart VIP, Gemini and even Son of Malta as we hear the voice-over from the commentary.
‘HE’S HERE!!!’ Quinn screams in absolute shock. ‘THE EAST WIND!! THE SCOURGE OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING IS IN GLOBAL!!’
‘One of the most dangerous individuals in all of professional wrestling, this man has left entire promotions in ruin!’ Allie tries to stay professional.
‘jOlt, HKW, NBW, SCW… All closed down or fallen apart almost immediately after his time there! And that’s not getting into the LIVES he’s ruined and the careers he’s ended! This man has a rap sheet that would make a serial killer jealous! What is GLOBAL THINKING?!?!’ The Mark yells.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, at Magnum Opus, we are proud to announce three men will battle for the distinction of becoming the first ever GLOBAL Champion. The two individuals who headlined Domination One, ‘Legend’ Sean Darring and ‘The American Patriot’ Daniel Dream. They’ll be joined by arguably the most dangerous wrestler not just in GLOBAL, but in the world – ‘The East Wind’ Alex Reyn.’
We cut to Sean Darring confronting Alex Reyn.
“Alex, it’s been too long. After all, we have been through, and you haven’t written. You didn’t call. No visits to the legend ranch. Not even a single Christmas card!”
We see Black and White footage from SCW of Alex Reyn coldly standing over a bloody and broken Sean Daring, before it cuts to an equally bloody Alex Reyn passing out in the Legend Lock.
I can’t stop ’til they’re singing
I won’t stop ’til they’re screaming
With me, with me
My heart left on a train today
But my mind and body went a different way
Take some time to clear your mind
And when the sun shines, it’ll be okay
We’ll all live to fight another day
There’s no such thing as wasted time
Wasted time
Footage shows an exhausted and humble Sean Darring taking interviews backstage. Alex Reyn’s voice plays over it all.
‘You know… normally I’d think this talk of companionship mere sarcasm, but with YOU, Sean… I could almost believe it from the man who’s spent the last ten weeks practically begging for the pity of others. ‘I’m past my prime!’ ‘I barely survived Dream!’ ‘I just got lucky! This is a battle between the greatest warriors around. If you’re truly the wretched, pathetic old man surviving on luck that you call yourself, then LEAVE and do not disgrace this battle with your presence.’
Now we see footage of Darring’s VICTORIES. We see Darren Best submitting to the Legend Lock. We see Alfie Button being rolled up as Reyn’s voice continues to play over it.
‘I have FOUGHT you, Darring. I know full well you’re not the simpering wretch you pretend to be. Stop trying to beg for the pity of the inferior and show us who you REALLY are.’
We see footage from IBW of Daniel Dream locked in a guillotine from Alex Reyn. Then in contrast, we see him taking out Son of Malta and the Great Wall with the American Revolution. Dream’s voice is heard over it all.
‘Alex Reyn, I’ve certainly improved from the lamb that you last saw me as. You want to talk about survival of the fittest? You’re looking at him. I, Daniel Dream, am the ultimate carnivore. I didn’t change pro wrestling. I didn’t blaze a new path or redefine a wrestling style. I wrestle like Daniel Dream. Then I will retire. And there will be nobody like me.’
No, I won’t wait! (I won’t wait!)
For the day it all falls away!
No, I won’t wait! (I won’t wait!)
For the day it all falls away
On a back void, we see a side profile close-up of a determined looking Sean Darring. There’s a flash of lightning and a side-profile close up of an EQUALLY determined Daniel Dream appears, meeting The Legend’s gaze. One final flash shows the silhouette of the East Wind, Alex Reyn looming over both of them.
My heart left on a train today
But my mind and body went a different way
Take some time to clear your mind
And when the sun shines, it’ll be okay
We’ll all live to fight another day
There’s no such thing as wasted time
Wasted time
A blazing montage of the wrestlers highlights and fights flashes before our eyes as the song reaches its crescendo! We hear the words of Giovanni one more time. Echoing, as the music fades out.
‘We’re aiming to be different to every other organization on the planet. Wrestling, as we know it, is not what it once was. Tastes have changed, society has evolved, and we don’t want to fill the void that UWE left. We want to be bigger, bolder, braver. This is not just the birth of a new wrestling organization. This is a game changer. As Conor McGregor and many others have said: “We’re not here to take part, we’re here to take over.” To Global.’ He says, raising a glass of water to the gathered press pack.
Main Event
Alex Reyn Vs. 'The Legend' Sean Darring Vs. Daniel Dream
World Heavyweight Championship
We see Allie Reece, Lucas Quinn and The Mark at the commentary desk, all grinning from ear to ear. ‘You all know what’s next, and that’s why we’re smiling. To top it all off, the first GLOBAL Championship match featuring three of the most amazing wrestlers anywhere in the world. Daniel Dream, Alex Reyn and ‘Legend’ Sean Darring will leave it all in that ring, and when is all said and done, one man will have etched their name in the history of GLOBAL FOREVER by becoming the inaugural champion. As you’ve heard throughout the night, we’ve all got different picks. I’m sure you’ve got yours. What we’re all in agreement on is that this should be an EXTRAORDINARY way to end this event. HERE WE GO.’
A soft chant begins to spread throughout the arena, interrupting Quinn’s soliloquy, or so it feels like, and the buzz around The Globe is palpable. Starting as a whisper but growing into a chorus as the lights darken while images begin to flicker on the viewers screens. Images of violence, war, and a solitary figure watching it all.
Marcus Anthony Newman, do your thing. ‘This is THE MAIN EVENT of MAGNUM OPUS, and it is FOR the GLOBAL CHAMPIONSHIP. Introducing first…’
The chanting has grown louder now and the drumbeats of Nightwish’s “Seven Days to the Wolves” rise in volume as mist spreads throughout the stadium, ghostly images of great heroes and villains forming two parallel lines along the ramp.
‘With a GLOBAL record of three wins and no defeats, weighing two hundred pounds…’
The rock part of the song kicks in and thunder roared while fire erupts on the stage, revealing the cowled form of the East Wind Alex Reyn, his hands outstretched over the flames. He’s shirtless, save for an open black cloak with a wolf skull mask. His body covered in ancient symbols and markings that seemed almost to glow and move in the firelight.
‘He is THE EAST WIND…ALEEEEEEEEEXXXXXX RRRRRREEEEEYYYYNN.’
The flames spread down the aisle in a flash! Igniting the signature Red Carpet and turning it ash black as Reyn begins to walk forward, and the ghostly figures kneel as he approaches them, only to rise up as he passes them as if more energized, turning to watch as he walks, Reyn himself never breaking eye contact with the ring.
Take it away, Lucas. ‘Alex Reyn may be the most dangerous man in all of wrestling today. The East Wind is a fitting moniker for someone who blitzes, terrorizes and simply blows opponents away. Three for three, he annihilated the capable Victor Ingram Price and made amends against Gemini before booking his place tonight with a hard-fought victory over old rival, Son of Malta. He has looked unstoppable, impregnable and downright terrifying doing it.’
“Howl! Seven days to the wolves
Where will we be when they come?
Seven days to the poison
And a place in heaven
Time drawing near us
They come to take us.”
Reyn climbs atop the top rope and stares down at the crowd for a few seconds. Thereafter, coldly, Reyn steps down removing the cowl and placing it on the ring post before turning to stare down the entrance way, awaiting his opponents.
Quinn captures the thoughts of many by voicing it out loud. ‘That’s a scary sight for anyone, isn’t it?’
Newman pipes up again. ‘From Miami Florida…’
The classic guitar riff, joined by the illustrious beat by Kee Marcello of the legendary band Europe, begins as The Final Countdown blasts through the PA system throughout the Globe. Golden strobe lights begin outlining the entranceway. Bright lights join it, and fireworks as the fans erupt in support for the one … the only “The Legend” Sean Darring.
Quinn resumes. ‘Not that it’ll bother this man, who has seen and done it all. Even he is wary of Alex Reyn, however, but not fearful. A career that has spanned decades with twists and turns, and is there another that says ‘Legend’ Sean Darring, in his mid-to-late forties, becomes the face of a world-famous Hollywood studio? There just may be.’
Marcus bellows. ‘Weighing two hundred and forty pounds, also with a perfect record of four wins and no defeats in GLOBAL to date…it is THE LEGEND HIMSELF, SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEANNNNN DARRRRRRIIIINNNG.’
Donning the long golden robe with silver and purple trim around the letters – LEGEND across the robe’s back. The legend stands with his arms extended, sending a clear message to the man in the ring who stands unamused, Alex Reyn. Sean Darring turns and begins to take a long-awaited walk down the now blackened aisle way. Momentarily he stops and gives appreciation to the support from GLOBAL Nation.
Reece’s voice rises in excitement. ‘What’s not to like? A lovely, humble guy who is an incredible ambassador, talent and example of what it means and takes to be a professional wrestler. He’s been here, he knows what it takes to get it done, and I believe Darring will do it again.’
Darring slaps the hands and hugs a young fan before going to ringside. Alex Reyn continues to keep his eyes on his long-time rival. Walking up the stairs and between the ropes, Darring stops and turns around, soaking up the moment and looking at the Magnum Opus logo and the thousands of cheering fans. The Legend slowly turns to lock eyes with the nightmare, Alex Reyn, Darring gives a look and a nod as if saying, “Let’s do this one more time.”
The snarl from Reyn gives everyone the answer they expected when, all of a sudden-
‘And THEIR opponent.’ Newman reminds us.
The opening chords of “Cult of Personality” by Living Colour blast through the arena, a procession of people dressed in golden and purple jackets, each wearing a yellow smiley mask, line up along the entrance ramp. They stand in silent reverence as Daniel Dream makes his way to the ring. Wearing a yellow smiley mask of his own, Daniel is bathed in a holy spotlight that shines down on him like a beacon, creating a dramatic and awe-inspiring spectacle for the wrestler who has become known as the Carnivore as he strides towards the ring.
‘The golden boy of GLOBAL, no doubt about it, who has been in phenomenal form from Domination One. Unlucky to lose to Darring, he has assembled a record of four and one since, going through Alfie Button, Son of Malta, The Great Wall and El Principe, quite the list, and has just as many wins to his name as anyone else. Bet on Dream…Bet on GLOBAL.’ Quinn muses.
‘Weighing two hundred and twenty-five pounds, originally from Atlanta, GA, but currently residing in the nearby West Hollywood, California, ‘The American Patriot’ ‘The Leader of the American Revolution’ and with a record of four wins and one defeat, DAAAAAANNNNIIEEEEL DRRRRRRREEEEEAAAAAMMM!’
Reece squeals. ‘I’ve waited weeks for it, and now it’s finally here. May the best man, whoever that may be, no controversy.’
All three men, Alex Reyn, the murderous monster from seemingly out of nowhere, ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream, the American prodigy favored by GLOBAL, and Sean Darring, the veteran, the fan favourite, looking for one more shot at the gold, all circle each other. Their heads are on a swivel, no-one wants to be caught off-guard.
All of a sudden, that looks like it may happen. Superkick by Carnivore! Trying to catch Sean by surprise!
‘Whoah, almost.’ Quinn claims.
‘The one man who is almost impossible to surprise,’ Reece retorts.
No! Darring catches it! Dream tries to take Darring by surprise, but the veteran is one step-ahead and now Dream is hopping on one leg! Reyn tries to take out the knee with a low dropkick, but no!
The athletic ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream leaps OVER Reyn to kick Darring off with a dropkick of his own!
‘That’s why we were all excited coming in, what a start and listen to the crowd,’ The Mark gushes, delighted to be there, let alone calling the action.
Buying himself space now, Dream rolls out the ring and gestures to Reyn and Darring. The mics don’t pick up his exact words, but the message is clear. ‘You two go at it. Don’t mind me.’
Reece scoffs at this. ‘Oh, I’m sure, you do all of the work and I’ll claim all the glory.’
Meanwhile, since the three men CLEARLY aren’t going to stand around and have their names introduced, the referee has decided “Screw it!” and called for the bell to get the match “Officially” started.
DING! DING! DING!
‘We’re only now underway, and it already feels like plenty has happened.’ Quinn says, his mind and heart racing.
Alex Reyn and Sean Darring, old rivals with a bitter dislike of each other, lock eyes.
Then with a silent nod of agreement, they both slide out the ring to go after DREAM!!
‘This is an interesting development.’ The Mark observes.
‘It sure is.’ Allie agrees.
Daniel’s eyes go wide as he realises he has just made himself the target for both men, he slides back in the ring to get away from Sea-
SPEAR BY REYN!!
‘A BIG move early on by ‘The East Wind’ will get the attention of Daniel Dream in a heartbeat.’ The Mark calls.
The spear hits Dream’s blindside and Alex wastes no time in dragging Daniel by the wrist towards the ring post, but the cagey ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream rolls out the ring and uses Alex’s own grip to yank him headfirst into the ringpo-! No! Reyn blocks the impact!
Darring from behind! Bouncing Dream’s head off the steel post! He grabs hold of Dream’s wrist and sends him CRASHING into the ring steps!
‘Well, I’m sorry, guys, but I’ve just lost a LOT of respect for Sean Darring. That was treacherous, gutless and an Un-American thing to do, attacking a true American Patriot like a snake in the grass. I expected better from Darring,’ Quinn complains.
Reece and Deltzer exchange a look of bewilderment, taken aback by the intensity of Quinn’s comments, lending more fuel to the fire that Lucas has an inherent bias towards Daniel Dream that may come directly from employers way above his, or even Giovanni’s, pay grade.
As Dream lies next to the ring steps, Reyn calmly stalks closer towards him. Hands at clasped behind his back as he coldly eyes the fallen Carnivore.
Then he’s suddenly on top of Dream! Shoving his head between the ringsteps an th post in away that is giving those who saw Reyn’s match with VIP sudden flashbacks!!
Reyn backs up. Looking for the dropkick!
SEAN DARRING INTERCEPTS HIM!!
Quinn yells. ‘I THOUGHT Darring was a hero, a selfless savior, a noble and courageous sole with pure intentions, who acts in the best interests of others before his own, especially the fans. It doesn’t look that way to me.’
The Mark counters that, just before Reece can unload. ‘Darring has never been Dream’s biggest fan, but he is NOT about to stand there and watch Alex Reyn end another man’s career!’
‘He is acting in someone else’s interests, Quinn.’ Reece shoots.
A waistlock stops the East Wind’s charge! German Suplex from Darr- No! Reyn flips out to land behind Darring!
…Crotch first on Darring’s outstretched foot.
There is a LOUD laugh from the crowd as the camera zooms in on a VERY satisfied looking Darring as Reyn collapses.
‘It looks like the wind might have just been taken out of The East Wind’s…sails.’ Allie chuckles, joining in with the crowd’s collective feeling.
Not for long! Darring has rolled him in the ring! Cover!
ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!!
.
.
.
REYN KICKS OUT!!
Still, that was an EARLY two count, and all three know it! Darring doesn’t waste time in trying to capitalise with the Legend Lock (Stranglehold Alpha)!
No!
‘Almost.’ Reece whispers.
Reyn has the move scouted and trips Darring up with a leg sweep!
Only to eat a basement dropkick to the head from ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream!
The opportunistic Dream has picked the perfect moment to come in and now he picks up the East Wind.
Carnivore’s Last Hunt (Elevated Sit-out Powerbomb!)
‘Wow, this could put a dent in…’ Quinn says, somewhat excitedly until…
Reyn counters with a hurricanrana!!
But Darring is right on top of Reyn! Trying to get Reyn into the Legend Lock, but Dream has already shaken of the rana and grabs Darring from behind, Deadlift him of the mat!
AMERICAN REVOLUTION (Ripcord Elbow)!!
‘THIS IS IT.’ Quinn shouts.
No!
Darring falls back to avoid the elbow, and Monkey flips Dream over his head who uses the momentum to catch REYN in a flipping hurricanrana to the applause of the fans!!
‘Amazing action, like we’ve come to expect from all three of these guys.’ Quinn states, reminding himself to be a little bit more professional and impartial.
Dream has Darring to himself! High knee! Darring blocks! He’s got a hold of the leg! Dream tries an enzuigiri! Darring ducks! Goes for the Legend Lock!
REYN OUT OF NOWHERE! GRABBING DARRING IN A GUILOTINE!!
‘You don’t want to be in such a vulnerable position against someone this dangerous.’ The Mark advises Darring, and in the process, telling the fans in case you know, they ever meet Reyn down a dark alley.
Wait… Daring is able to slip out, using his technical expertise to escape Reyn’s hold, maintain’s a wrist lock and…
LEGEND LOCK ON REYN!
‘Nor do you want to be in THIS position either, Mark.’ Reece exclaims, her pick attempting to grab GLOBAL gold early on.
No! Dream hits a high knee on Darring! Reyn rolls him up in a school boy!
ONE!!.
.
.
DREAM BREAKS IT UP!!
‘Everyone is so alert, on top of their game and it’s a scintillating start.’ Quinn beams.
Reyn rolls to face Dream with a low growl. The two maintain eye contact as they both rise to a standing position. Dream isn’t blinking as he stares down the East Wind.
‘No fear shown, no quarter given.’ Lucas lauds Daniel and Alex alike.
The two dash at each other! High knees clash in mid aitr! Spinning back kick from Reyn is parried by Dream! Reyn tries for a spinning kick from the opposite leg, but Dream ducks, slipping behind the East Wind! American Revo- No! Reyn ducks the elbow! Slips behind Dream!
EAST WIND CUTTER (Lifting Rolling Cutter)!!
No!
‘This is amazing, breathless, the amount of BIG moves they’ve tried early on is testament to how vital victory is, and the threat posed by their opponents.’ The Mark comments.
Dream knocks Reyn loose with a standing overhead kick!
Reyn is reeling back, clutching his nose, but he drops low to avoid Dream’s superkick follow up! Moving in close before the off-balance Dream can react and locking Canivore in a Calf Slicer!
‘Blink, and you’ll miss it. Dream looked in control, and now he’s in serious jeopardy, but now…’ Quinn is struggling to keep up with the action.
Wait… Darring is back and trying to grab Reyn in the Legend Lock!!
Alex IMMEDIATELY retreats as far away from Darring as possible, but in doing so he has to let Daniel out of the Calf Slicer.
It’s a moment of respite for all three as they back off or roll away to once again form a circle and stare each other down.
‘A round of applause from an appreciative audience. A breakneck, ferocious tempo being set by three of the greatest athletes on the globe, here IN The Globe.’ No, you’re not funny, Lucas.
Once again, Dream makes the first move! Going after Alex Reyn with a leg pick, looking for the Patriot Lock (Ankle Lock) but Alex rolls him up with a Victory Roll!
ONE!!.
.
.
DREAM ROLLS IT BA-ONLY TO GET KICKED IN THE FACE BY DARRING!!
The Mark spots something. ‘Reyn did that on purpose, guys. He saw Dream lining up the kick, and set Darring up there, so he’d be the one to take the boot instead. That was brilliant. Honestly.’
Reyn capitalises! Dragon Slee-
No! He has to release as Darring drops an elbow that hits Dream instead!
Sean Darring locks eyes with Alex Reyn. The very air in the arena seems to go cold. The audience is holding in its breath as the watch the first true in-ring staredown between the two in years…
‘This is some prospect here.’ The Mark adds, aware of the history these two share together.
Darring moves first, stunning Reyn with a knife-edge chop before grabbing his wrist to try and negotiate the Legend-
No! Reyn behind! East Wi- No! Darring sweeps the legs, he tries grabbing Reyn’s heel, but Alex catches him in a small package!
ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!! DREAM WITH A SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK TO BREAK UP THE PIN!!
‘That worked like a dream for Daniel right there.’ The Mark seems to have taken up the mantle on commentary for the time being.
He grabs Darring from behind! Deadlift him off the mat!
American Revo- wait a minute!
In an act of brilliance, Dream uses the ripcord to disguise his TRUE intention!
Uncle Slam(Olympic Slam)!
‘Now it’s Dream’s turn to lure someone in.’ The Mark compliments the Georgian grappler.
No! Darring with an arm-drag counter!
‘Or Darring’s turn instead.’ Allie retaliates.
But Reyn catches Darring with a superkick to the back of his head!
POISONED RANA!!
‘That’ll turn things in Reyn’s favor in a hurry.’ Quinn comments.
Darring’s head hits the mat with a sickening crunch as the fans cringe. Many are familiar with the damage Reyn can do to the head. The damage he once did to DARRING’s head.
Daniel tries to catch Reyn off guard with a shoot kick as he rises, but Reyn catches the leg. Dream’s eyes go wide with horror before Reyn practically rips his leg from its socket with a Dragon Screw!
Darring isn’t moving, and the East Wind has picked its target. Stomping Dream’s leg into the mat with a kneebreaker!
‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream rolls out of the ring, clutching his leg and Reyn…
Reyn turns his attention to the Legend.
Darring’s knee whiplashes as a violent knee strikes him in the temple! He desperately tries to cover up, but Reyn won’t relent as he hammers him with knee after cruel knee into the veteran’s skull! Darring tries to defend by catching the knee and taking Alex down with a single leg, but the First Predator transitions into a guillotine choke in the centre of the ring!
‘Under duress, Darring kept his composure admirably, and turns it into an enormous advantage here.’ The Mark raves about ‘Legend’ giving him his props.
‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream sees his chances at winning the title in jeopardy and dashes back in the ring to try and break up the submission with a kick, but Alex has once again slipped away, causing Dream to kick Darring in the head!
Spear from Reyn! No! Dream leapfrogs over! Reyn hits the ropes! Dream catches him in the uncle sla-
No! Reyn counters with a headscissors takedown on Dream, and uses the momentum of his spin to take a just risen Darring back down with a tornado DDT!!
‘Wow, what action by every single one of them there, this is shaping up to be EVEN BETTER than what we thought.’ Lucas states genuinely moved and impressed.
‘Alex’s high flying, some debate if that’s his primary style or not, is like a blue-ringed octopus. It looks real pretty…until the poison sets in.’ The Mark warns.
The Headscissors was intended to stun more than injure however, meaning Dream is able to get up before Daring and tries to catch a now grounded Reyn in the Patriot Lock (Ankle Lock), but Alex delivers a hard kick directly into Daniel’s knee! Daniel collapse forward and Alex catches him in a Guillotine Choke!!
The desperation from Dream is immediately apparent as he thrashes in an attempt to break free! Alex’s hold his like a vice! His arm squeezes on Deam’s neck, cutting off vital oxygen!
Dream is able to get his feet planted, even with his vision beginning to blur. In a display of his superior strength, he begins rising to his feet, carrying the entire weight of Alex in a deadlift!
Northern lights su-!
No!
Reyn swings both his feet into Dream’s knee as he uses the momentum to spike Daniel on the top of his head with a DDT!
Then he re-applies the guillotine!
Dream is already stunned from the DDT! He might not be able to fight it off this time!
‘Reyn is relentless, but wait, what is Darring doing?’ Quinn wonders.
SEAN DARRING PULLS ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream OUT THE RING!!
There’s an audible reaction of relief from the fans as Darring potentially saves the match for himself! Dream is holding his throat and retching as Reyn…
ASCENDANT’S WRATH (Running, springboard, suicide, crossbody) FROM ALEX REYN!!
‘That right there could be what turns this in the direction of ‘The East Wind.’ According to Deltzer.
Both men are crushed against the barricade from that as the East Wind’s momentum seems unstoppable. He grabs a dazed Sean and rams him headfirst into the ringsteps. Punishment for denying the first predator his prey.
Now, Alex lifts up the apron, searching under the ring for a tool, a weapon. Triple Threat matches had no count outs or disqualification, and Reyn was about to take FULL advantage.
Perhaps realising the threat Reyn with a weapon would pose, Dream tries to stop him, only to have the edge of a chair driven into his ribs for his trouble!
Another blow from the chair! This time driven into his gut before the ruthless Reyn presses the edge of the chair against Daniel’s throat!
‘This is why I picked him, guys.’ The Mark laments, holding his hands up.
‘You cannot afford to let this runaway train to get going.’ He finishes off.
Immediately realising the risk, Dream falls back, tossing Alex overhead with a monkey flip! He tries to wrestle the chair out of Reyn’s grasp, but the East Wind’s tenacious grip is like a vice!
Wait! Dream manages to pull the chair free!
‘That could be a…’ Quinn sets up.
Only for Reyn to superkick it into his face!
Allie twists the knife. ‘Are you still betting on Dream after that?’
Dream goes down. And now Reyn grabs him by the ankle. He drags him over to the ringsteps.
…And places his ankle between the steps and the post.
‘This is evil.’ Quinn moans.
Reyn measures… RUNNING DROPICK!!
Dream JUST manages to pull his ankle free before Reyn crushes it like VIP’s skull!
‘Thank God.’ Lucas sighs.
Dream is in full retreat now! Trying to put as much distance between himself and this monster as possible. But Reyn calmly picks up the chair. Walking after him in an almost leisurely, unhurried pace.
‘There’s something not quite right about Alex Reyn.’ Quinn proclaims.
‘YOU THINK?’ Reece yells.
He’s on top of Dream now. Swinging the chair at his-
DARRING GRABS THE CHAIR!!
‘Sean, once again, may just have saved Daniel, himself and the match.’ The Mark says.
The fans cheer to see Sean Darring back in the fight! A kick is buried into Reyn’s gut! The Legend grabs the East Wind! Looking for a ddt on the outside, but Alex surges forward to ram dream’s back into the edge of the apron! He throws a punch at the Legend, but Darring catches the blow, grabs Reyn by the back of the head and tries to slam Al exs face into the apron, only for Alex to block the impact and ram the point of his elbow into Darring’s nose!
Darring is stunned, and Aex rams the CROWN of the old man’s skull into the edge of the apron before tossing him into the ring.
‘I don’t know how long Darring has got left, I guess he doesn’t, but it might just be borrowed time after that.’ The Mark reckons.
Reyn has picked up the chair now and slid into the ring. He is stalking Sean Darring. Waiting with eerie calm for his old rival to rise.
He brings the chair down like an executioner’s axe, but Darring JUST rolls out the way! A second swing, but this time the legend lashes out with a boot that strikes Alex Reyn on the chin! He uses that moment of separation to rise to his feet, going for a European Uppercut, but Alex slips behind! East Wi-!
Darring swings the chair at Reyn’s face! The blow misses, but it forces Reyn to release the hol-
DREAM OUT OF NOWHERE WITH A SPRINGBOARD CROSSBODY TO DARRING!!
‘Where did he come from?’ Reece wonders.
The move, intended for both opponents, but Alex dodges at the last second to let Darring take the brunt and now charges at the rising Dream!
Deltzer is impressed by what he’s seeing. ‘Smart work AGAIN by Reyn.’
Flipping DDT- Dream collapses on his back to drop Reyn in a modified flapjack!
The Mark fills us in again. ‘Lucas, talk about bigger picture here.’
Quinn interrupts. ‘You’re right, Dream LET his injured leg give out to turn Reyn’s signature flipping DDT into a flapjack. He took one to win one, and he, Benedict or Jabari, one of them, has done their homework there, and that’s reflected on Reyn’s face.’
Reyn is genuinely stunned for the first time in a while and Dream capitalizes! AMERICAN DREAM (Cobra Clutch)
‘Bet on Dream…Bet on Ameri-can’t believe it!’ Lucas goes from 60 to 0 in 2.9 seconds – or less.
Wait, Daring has grabbed Dream! Rear naked choke!!
It’s a stereo submission! Daring has Dream in the choke, while Dream has Reyn in the American Dream!
‘Wow, well, expect the unexpected in a triple threat when the GLOBAL Championship, no less, and how will this sequence end, let alone the match? This is intense, it’s incredible.’ Quinn raves.
Ultimately, it’s Reyn who manages to escape fist as the rear naked choke on Deam weakens his grip. He swings a roundhouse at Darring who has to release dream in order to avoid the kick! Hitting the ropes, Reyn vaults off Dream’s back for a cross-
No! Dream catches him in midair! UNCLE SLAM! DARRING CATCHES REYN’S LEGS! UNCLE SLAM/POWERBOMB COMBO!!!
Allie nods her head at the desk. ‘Beautiful teamwork.’
Darring is smart enough not to try for a pin with Dream right there to break it up. He catches a kick from Dream who tries the same dropkick trick from the start of the match, but this time Daring is ready for it and as Dream’s back hits the mat, Darring twists his legs in a familiar lock.
Figure Four…
Then he falls back on the mat HARD.
Figure Four Legbreaker!!
Reyn comes in now with kick to Darring, but in one swift motion, Darring rolls into Dream, grabs him, and rolls Dream over into a human shield to take the kick!
A shift of the hips and now Dream is being pinned small package style!
ONE!!.
.
.
REYN BREAKS IT UP!!
All three roll to their feet! Reyn throws a roundhouse at Darring who ducks, causing the blow to hit Dream instead. With Reyn off balance, Darring slips behind him and drops the East Wind with a neckbreaker!
Reyn is clutching at his neck, but wisely rolls of the ground, not wanting to get caught on the mat by a submission specialist! But Daaring tries to pull him down for the Legend Lock, only for REYN to slip out behind!
East Wi-!
No! Victory Roll By Darring! He grabs the leg, turning Reyn over onto his back, looking for a figure-
A hard kick from Reyn to the back of Sean’s knee sends him falling backwards! Alex tries to grab him in a Dragon Sleeper, but the wily Sean blocks the submission attempt. Turning it into an attempt at the Legend Lock!
Reyn rolls it into a schoolboy! Wait! Darring with a triangle choke! Reyn into a jacknife pin!
ONE!!.
.
.
DARRING KICKS OUT!!
‘This is AMAZING, how can they keep this up?’ Quinn contemplates, almost childlike.
Sean Darring is up first and before Reyn can react, the legend stomps down VIOLENTLY on his elbow! The East Wind is reeling as Darring grabs his leg and like Reyn did before, nearly twists it out of its socket with a Dragon Screw!!
There is a cold look in Darring’s eyes. A focused look. If Reyn wants to be ruthless and violent, Darring has NO problem giving him a taste of the same.
An elbow is thrown to the back of Reyn’s head that Alex BARELY ducks, but now HE is on retreat, trying to get some distance! He hits the ropes, trying to counterattack, but his leg gives out after few steps, allowing Daring to knock him to the mat with a dropdown!
Quinn recalls. ‘Darring’s going old school here. Very few fans, or even wrestlers, remember this these days, but the dropdown was originally designed as an ATTACK on the legs, and ‘Legend’ Sean Darring, whose tactics at times tonight have been shady, knows enough about the dark arts.’
Wait! An opportunistic ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream grabs Daring from behind as he gets to his feet, looking for the Dream Crusher (Full Nelson Facebuster), but Darring counters into a rolling leg-scissored cross kneelock!!
Immediate agony washes over Dream’s face! He’s scabbling on the mat, trying to block out the pain! Trying to crawl to the ropes! He reaches out… and grabs hold!
‘Just to remind you fans, there is no rope break in this match, so Darring can keep the hold as long as he wants. But he also won’t win if Dream taps while holding the ropes since he’s technically out of bounds.’ Lucas observes, and his head’s back in the game at long last.
Alex has grabbed Daring from behind! Locking in a Dragon Sleeper! Darring is forced to release Dream as he finds himself suddenly struggling in Reyn’s grip, but Dream grabs Ryn, rolling him up into a pin!ONE!!.
.
.
DARRING PULLS DREAM OFF REYN, LOOKING FOR THE LEGEND LOCK!
No! Dream counters! American Revo-
His leg buckles as he tries to plant it! Shot goes wide as Darring ducks it, countering with a belly to back suplex!
In comes Reyn! Spea-Monkey flip by Sean Darring! Fighting off both men at once! He maintains wrist control, looking for the Legend Lock again! Reyn tries to get him of his feet with a double-leg, but the crafty veteran grapevines his legs around Reyn’s arms to get him into a Lebel Lock!!
Now it’s Reyn’s turn to scrabble! To reach out for the ropes! For something! ANYthing to let him break out of this ho-!
‘You don’t see Alex Reyn this desperate very often, so enjoy it folks.’ The Mark laps up.
‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream pulls Reyn out of the ring! Both wrestlers collapse against the barricade, painting heavily. Reyn is nursing his arm, neck and leg, while Dream has to use the barricade to support his weight. From inside the ring, Darring looks down at BOTH of his opponents.
Then he kicks his feet up and reclines on the top rope as the fans laugh out loud!
‘That’s COOL right there.’ Reece contributes.
There’s anger on the faces of both Reyn and Dream, but they know a bait when they see it. They know Darring is trying to get in their heads. He’s not the fastest, or the strongest, but he IS the most experienced, and that experience has been working masterfully for him in this match.
‘If he keeps this up, the match is his.’ Reece boldly claims.
Reyn and Dream exchange a meaningful look. Darring’s quick wits and effectively targeted limb work has slowed them both down and limited their offence. Personal dislike aside, they’re going to need to work together in their current state to regain the advantage.
The two attack from different angles! Dream tries to knock Darring off the top rope, but Darring lands on his feet, blocking a rope-hung enzuigiri from ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream! Reyn has grabbed Darring from behind now, looking for the East Wind! Darring counters with a snapmare that throws Alex back first into the corner, but Dream has already grabbed his ankles and is pulling him out the ring!
Darring manages to kick Dream off and BARELY manages to slide out the ring to avoid a second rope moonsault from Alex Reyn! The two wrestlers are swarming the legend! American Revolution by Dream! Darring tries the same Belly to Back Suplex counter from before, but Reyn takes out his leg with a chopblock!
Quinn’s at it again. ‘Teamwork makes THE DREAM work.’
Darring drops Dream, and Alex rolls the legend back into the ring! Dream meanwhile, elects to get some distance, let the other two beat each other up like he wanted from the start, let him look for an opening and let his sore leg rest and recover.
Back in the ring and Reyn is straddling Darring’s back, firing dangerous punches to the back of the legend’s neck! Sean is able to cover up from the assault and slip out back to try and negotiate an STF, but Reyn’s elbow catches him on the bridge of the nose when he tries to apply the facelock!
Reyn is able to pull free, but he almost collapses trying to stand, and he needs to use the ropes for support. His relentless offense hasn’t given his legs NEARLY enough time to recover.
‘Alex Reyn is full throttle, but this is where he lacks the experience of a Sean Darring.’ Allie believes.
Darring grabs the arm, shooting him off towards the other side of the ring. But Alex doesn’t even TRY to run on a bad wheel, instead LETTING himself collapse and using the momentum to slide out the ring to get some time to regroup.
Time Darring is NOT about to give him.
‘A masterclass by someone who knows how and when to pick his spots.’ Reece is revelling in her role and Darring’s position here in the contest.
Darring slides out the ring to attack the East Wind and NARROWLY avoids having his head taken off by a steel chair!
‘And, seeing as you think you’re both clever, Reyn has slipped out the side of the ring where the chair had dropped from before, and he is fixed to use it. There, you’re welcome.’ Reece states smugly, and she’s not wrong.
Reyn swings the chair, but Darring dances out of reach! Reyn is hobbling after him, but with his leg in its wounded state, he can’t keep up. Swinging the chair futiley as Darring dodges him like a matador. In a mirror of their first match, it is DARRING with a cocky smile as he stays teasingly out of Alex Reyn’s reach.
ALEX REYN SPEARS HIM INTO THE RING STEPS!!
‘Darring shouldn’t have provoked Reyn there.’ Allie admits.
‘Some of the old Darring I was talking about from before, slipped through and got too overconfident, too cocky for such a humble guy.’ Quinn reminds everyone.
Reyn has SNAPPED. His left hand is squeezing the Legend’s windpipe with murderous intent while his right strikes at Sean’s face again and again!
‘This is seriously worrying.’ Reece admits.
‘It’s why he’s a serious threat to every single person in that locker room, and why I’ll never understand how he got through the door, let alone be on the brink of becoming the first GLOBAL Champion, and I take NO pleasure in saying that.’ The Mark states, torn between being right in terms of tipping the winner and morally, too.
Darring’s vision is blurring, but he fights back with a headbutt and pulls the stunned Reyn feetfirst into the ring steps! Reyn rolls away, clutching at his face as blood begins to seep between his fingertips!
There’s blood in the water, literally, and Darring is looking to capitalize. He moves to grab the East Wind-
He collapses against the commentary table. Face pale with agony as the instant replay shows Darring approaching Alex Reyn, who swings the edge of the steel chair straight into his shinbone.
‘So simple, so barbaric and yet so effective.’ Quinn winces, a reminder of various matches throughout his own career between the ropes.
Darring can barely put weight on his leg now. Unable to defend himself as Alex strikes him across the face with the metal chair.
Blood flows from the wound.
‘He won’t go down without a fight.’ Reece reacts bullishly, still believing ‘LSD’ can pull it off.
Darring spits blood from his mouth as he glares defiantly from behind a mask of blood at the East Wind who matches the look from behind his own crimson ma-
‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream FROM OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE WITH A SUICIDE SPRINGBOARD VAN-TERMINATOR THAT SENDS ALL THREE MEN THROUGH THE TABLE!!!!
The fans are SCREAMING the commentary has backed off in shock as all three men lie in the rubble of the exploded table! ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream is lying on top of his two opponents who look near unconscious!
And of course… the chants from the crowd..
“HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!!
There’s a crafty, triumphant smile on Dream’s face as he sits up. Stretching out his legs, finding his balance steady.
Quinn has had time to gather his thoughts. Dream has easily taken the least amount of damage in this match. Not only did the other two break his fall, but they’ve been tearing into each other while he’s had frequent moments to rest. Buy now, he’s pretty much shaken of his leg damage, while those two have nearly crippled each other, and now he becomes the odds-on favorite.’
Reece bites back. ‘Another cheap plug for Dream and Diamond Casinos, I guess?’
Now Dream moves. He grabs Alex Reyn and…
UNCLE SLAM INTO THE RINGPOST!!
Quinn ignores Reece and reacts as a fan would. ‘UNBELIEVABLE. Daniel Dream, or should I say Carnivore, is back and baying for blood. You thought there was a shark in the water before?’
The East Wind drops like a ragdoll and Dream rolls Darring into the ring, sliding the chair in as well. Grabbing Darring’s leg, he places it on the bottom rope and tries to stomp down on his already purple shin, but Darring pulls the leg out of the way.
So, Dream brings the chair down onto it.
Darring cries out as the metal chair strikes his shin over and over again! The Legend looks like he’s about to pass out from the pain as he feels the repeated impact of metal on bone!
Dream grabs the ankle now. Looking to trap Darring’s leg inside the folded metal chai-
A kick to the groin by Darring!
No!
Dream had anticipated that desperation move and snaps his legs hut! Trapping Darring’s leg between them.
Then he twists in a familiar pattern and the fans gasp and boo as theyy realise he’s looking to trap darring in his own Figure Four!!
Wait! Daring just grabbed him! Small Package!
ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!!.
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.
DREAM ROLLS OUT, COUNTERING INTO “NEVER AWAKE”!! (Lifting DDT)
COVER!!
ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!!.
.
.
THR-EYN PULLS DREAM OUT THE RING!!
‘That was it right there, surely.’ Quinn concedes.
The crowd gasps at that nearfall, but Reyn is clearly in a bad way as Dream drops him on his face with the Dream Catcher (Jumping Complete Shot)!
Dream kips up to his feet, but for the first time since the table broke, we see a slight stumble. A wobble of the knee.
Allie mocks Dream and Quinn. ‘Oh no, his leg might not QUITE have recovered as much as he’s letting on.’
Meanwhile, Darring has been using the ropes to pull himself up. Both Darring and Dream lock eyes from across the ring.
…Then their gaze turns to the steel chair lying in the centre of the ring.
Both men make a dash for it! Diving towards the chair to grab the weapon before their opponent can!
Darring can’t get to the chair in time, and is forced to roll away, on the retreat as Dream violently swings the chair at his head! He tries to get out between the top and second rope, using the ropes as a barrier between himself and Dream. But Dream instead brings the chair down on his leg again!
There’s a howl of pain from Darring as Dream springs onto the top rope and…
CHAIR ASSISTED SPRINGBOARD DIVING STOMP CRUSHES THE BACK OF DARRING’S HEAD AGAINST THE APRON!!
There’s an audible gasp as Darring collapses limply to the floor. Looking down at his fallen opponent, Dream mockingly raises an arm to the crowd who shower him with boos.
SPEAR FROM ALEX REYN!!
No!
Again, Reyn’s injuries slow him just enough for Dream to see the attack coming, catch him in a facelock and swing him around with a Never Awake that drops his shins onto the metal barricade before driving his face into the floor!
Once again, both men are down and Dream has complete control. He goes to roll Darring into the ring, only to feel Reyn gripping onto his ankle. The East Wind can barely STAND, but he refuses to allow Dream to get the pin on Darring!
A harsh stomp on Reyn’s face knock him loose but Darring has woken up and Dream took his eye off the ball!
Belly to Ba-
No! Dream flips out! LAnding behind Darring! He stumbles for asecond as the impact tweaks his leg, but still manages to grab Darring’s wrist!
American Revolu-!
Reyn dives at Darring’s leg, knocking him off his feet, Dream’s shot goes wide as Darring collapses, throwing the now off balance Dream over his head!
But Dream still has wrist control! He rolls to his feet, pulling Daring onto his shoulders!
Go To Sleep!
The knee impacts the bridge of Darring’s nose! Dream grabs him again! This time there’s no escape!
AMERICAN REVOLUTION!!!
Quinn cannot contain his excitement. ‘THIS IS IT.’
…Sean Darring collapses to the floor as the elbow sails over his head!
Lucas is in shock. ‘I CANNOT believe it. Was that an intentional dodge or did he just collapse from being kneed? If it was, hats off to Darring, years of experience or not, that was genius. Credit where it’s due, but I have a feeling it wasn’t.’
Reece isn’t sure. ‘I’d love to tell you it was, but I don’t know and there’s only one man who can answer it and he’s a bit busy. I don’t even know if he’ll remember it later on.’
Dream is scowling no as he looks down at a Sean Darring on his knees-
ALEX REYN RUNS UP SEAN’S BACK TO HIT DREAM WITH A RUNNING KNEE TO HIS FACE!!!
The impact of the move sends not only Dream, but REYN sprawling across the ramp! A carnage of bodies and limbs everywhere!
‘How much do they want this? BADLY is my guess, perhaps more than even we imagined.’ Quinn concludes.
Both are lying on the outside floor now. Dream from having his face near kneed off, Reyn from exerting his already near depleted energy reserves in trying to deliver it.
Practically drawling towards his opponent like some horror movie zombie, Reyn tries for his signature grounded knees to Dream’s temple but Dream suddenly surges to life! Grabbing Reyn for the GTS!!
Now he grabs Reyn’s arm! Looking for the American Revolution, but in a mirror of a few minutes ago, Darring sweeps his leg out to trip REYN up, causing the elbow to again misfire!
Allie steps up. ‘It might be unorthodox, well it is, but both Reyn and Darring have essentially and effectively saved each other from the American Revolution, and denied Daniel from realizing his dream. With Dream in a much better state, physically, than both of them, neither can afford to let the other go down, because if this becomes a one-on-one match, Dream is the clear favorite. They have to keep the other one alive to save themselves.’
There is VISIBLE frustration from Dream now, as he grabs BOTH men at once! Looking for a double Uncle Slam! The two of them fight free, hammering a way with wild, unfinnesed punches and blows, but Dream surges to life, a knee slams into the East wind’s chin, before Dream swings the same leg back to practically take Darring’s head off with a back kick!
‘I won’t deny it – Dream is on top.’ Reece notes.
He once again grabs the Legend, rolling him into the ring! He tries to grab Sean fro John Lock (Full Nelson Camel Clutch), but sheer veteran instinct propels Daring to slp out the back!
Darring grabs Dream! LEGEND LO-
DREAM ROLLS HIM UP!!
ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!!.
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THR-.
.
.
REYN JUST BARELY BREAKS UP THE PIN!!
‘Alex JUST got there.’ Reece emphasizes.
The East Wind grabs Dream tryin to slow him down with a guillotine to take the wind out of him, but.. But…
Dream is deadlift Alex Reyn as he rises to his feet!
He pops Alex onto his shoulders!
CARNIVORE’S LAST HUNT THROWS ALEX REYN OUT THE RING!!
‘That’s it. Over.’ Reece shakes her head in disbelief, resigned to that move damaging Reyn first and foremost, but also ‘Legend’ Sean Darring in the process.
The East Wind hits the floor outside hard! But as Dream looks down upon his work in satisfaction, Darring grabs him from behind in an O-Connor Roll!
‘Wait a minute, Darring to sneak it.’ Quinn screams.ONE!!
.
.
.
TWO!!.
.
.
DREAM THROWS DARRING OFF INTO THE ROPES!!
Dream kips up as Darrin bounces back! He grabs him! AMERICAN DREAM!! THE AMERICAN DREAM IS LOCKED IN!!
The Mark applauds and mirrors the crowd’s chants. ‘Yes, thisis awesome and that was also awesome, just awesome, by Daniel Dream.’
‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream is wrenching on the hold! Darring is struggling to escape, his face is turning purple! He tries to reach out for something, but there’s nothing to grab!
Wait… He’s getting his feet on the top turnbuckle… It’s how he beat Dream last time…
No! His leg gives out! Darring collapses to the mat! Dream is right on top of him! The hold is still locked in! Darring has nowhere to go! Dream has leverage!
Reyn is crawling to his feet.. He’s limping to the ring. He needs to get there in time! Needs to break up the-
FREDDIE’S NIGHTMARE (Claymore Kick) BLASTS REYN IN THE FACE!!
In case you’re wondering what you just read, you’re not alone. Allie Reece sums up the mindset of many right about now. ‘WAIT? WHAT?!’
The kick sends Alex Reyn sprawling as the fans scream in shock! Freddie Rich is here! Freddie Rich has attacked the East Wind! He grabs Reyn by the head, Bouncing his skull off the barricade before tossing him over the barricade into the crowd! Following after Reyn, the cameras pick up on him delivering brutal, furious punches to the East Wind as the crowd swallows them up!
Allie is astonished at what she’s witnessing. ‘What on earth is Freddie Rich doing here? We know there’s a rivalry that goes back a LONG time, but this is uncalled for, and a shame, even for ‘The East Wind’ to potentially lose this way.’
In the ring though, the match has come to an end.
Darring’s fans now it as they watch with despair. Reyn was Darring’s last hope of getting out the hold. And now he’s fading fast.
The referee calls for the be-
Wait.
There’s movement from Sean Darring!
‘Good god, he just does not quit.’ Quinn calls, a mix of admiration, shock and resentment all rolled into one.
He’s crawling, one arm in front of the other, like a soldier at boot camp, crawling, dragging the weight of two men towards the ropes! He reaches out! Stretching his hand…
Reece chimes in. ‘He doesn’t know how to. Your Shakespeare quote at the start, Lucas? This man, he was BORN GREAT.’
To grab hold of the bottom rope!
There’s a pavlovian cheer from the crowd, but Dream won’t let go! Why would he? In a match where he can’t get disqualified?
But that ISN’T Darring’s plan. He’s using the ropes to pull himself up! To bring himself to a vertical base!
Allie, do the honors. ‘It’s not just a break the ropes offer, it’s LEVERAGE.’
Dream realises what’s happening! That his grip is loosening as Darring pulss them both to their feet! He yanks back! Trying to pull Darring off the ropes, but Darring uses that EXACT moment to TWIST…
AND THE MOMENTUM RIPS HIM FREE OF ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream’S HOLD!!
The fans cheer at this narrow escape as Darring collapse to the mat, rolling to fall out the ring near what used to be the commentary desk. The camera shows him shuddering and breathing heavily.
Dream can sense it. His victory is near. He can almost FEEL the world title in his grasp! He slides out the ring, reaching out to grab Darring by the hair, but Darring surges to life and splashes a bottle of water in Dream’s eyes!
Dream reels back! Temporarily blinded and this gives Darring the opportunity to SMASH a monitor over his head!
Dream is busted open! Darring grabs the chair… and brings it down on Dream’s back!
And again!
And again!
The fans chant for one more time, but Dream dives in the ring to get away as the fans boo!
Darring is right after him, but the distance and Darring’s bad leg gives Dream time to see it coming and catch the chair! The two now struggle for control! Dream tries to kick Darring in his injured shin, but in a mirror of earlier in the match, Darring catches Dream’s leg between is own!
FIGURE FOUR BY SEAN DARRING!!
The fans cheer as ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream screams out in pain! His head in his hands as though trying to block out the agony shooting up his leg!
Wait… Dream braces himself… he turns himself over… AND REVERSES THE PRESSURE AS BOTH MEN ARE ON THEIR STOMACH!!
Now it is DARRING who is in absolute agony as all the pressure is now on HIS leg. The fans can see the struggle in his eyes, the fight within himself to NOT. TAP. He’s crawling to the ropes; his pupils are pin pricks of pure pain. He’s crawling. Reaching for those ropes. His shin might well be BROKEN, and it feels like knives are cutting it open as Dream. Dream KNOWS he has this near one. He’s doing push ups now. CLAPPING push ups as Darring bites down on his hand to keep from screaming out and the fans boo! Urging the Legend forward!
That cockiness might have been a mistake though! As Dream does another clapping push up, Darring SURGES forward, grabbing hold of the bottom rope and using it to turn them back onto their back! Dream goes from cocky to panicked as the pressure is back on HIS leg!
Desperately, he starts slamming his fist into Darring’s bruised and purple shin! Trying knock himself loose! And thanks to Darring’s injury. It works. Dream disentangles himself as the fans boo.
Both men lie on the mat. Trying to push themselves to their feet. At this point it’s a wonder they can even STAND, much less fight.
Dream, unsteadily, stumbling slightly, manages to get to his feet and grab Darring for the PATRIOT LOCK!!
Wait! Darring rolls through, grabs Dream’s ankle for an ankle lock of his own! But Dream rolls it back into the patriot lock, stumble a bit on his bad leg, Darring pulls him into a Victory Roll!!
ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!!.
.
.
THR-.
.
.
LAST SECOND KICKOUT!!
Dream grabs Darring! Looking for Never Awake! Darring pulls his head free! Schoolboy pin!
ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!!.
.
.
THR-.
.
.
DREAM’S LEGS GIVE OUT!!
He had been leaning into the pin and that put too much weight on his bad leg! Dream tries to grab him for the John Locke, but Darring slips out, grabbing a sleeper hold on ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream! But the American All-star is rising to his feet! Crying the weight of The Legend on his back!
UNCLE SLA-!! SLINGBLADE COUNTER FROM SEAN DARRING!!!
‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream IS DOWN! SEAN SCRAMBLES FOR THE COVER!!ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!!.
.
.
THREE?!.
.
.
DID HE??.
.
.
NO!! DREAM KICKS OUT AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND!!
The fans can see the despair in Darring’s face. He was so close. SO CLOSE. He tries to put Dream in the Legend Lock. Tries to use his one, ultimate hold, but his own leg can’t take the pressure. There’s been too much damage. Dream, with near inhuman stamina and recovery, grabs his leg, violently twisting his ankle in the Patriot Lock! Darring is able to break free with a kick to Dream’s face, but that’s yet MORE damage on his already injured leg.
And ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream has murder in his eyes.
CARNIVORE’S LAST HUNT!!!
DARRING COUNTERS WITH A HEADSCISSORS THAT THROWS BOTH MEN OVER THE TOP ROPE AND OUT THE RING!!!
The crowd roars in excitement! The previously “Holy Shit!” chants now replaced with another, familiar chant.
“THIS IS AWESOME!!” *Clap, Clap, Clap-Clap-Clap!* “THIS IS AWESOME!!” *Clap, Clap, Clap-Clap-Clap!* “THIS IS AWESOME!!” *Clap, Clap, Clap-Clap-Clap!*
Meanwhile, outside the ring, the bodies of Dream and Darring are only just now beginning to stir. EVERY part of their bodies ache. They’re at the brink of collapsing from sheer exhaustion. Only pride and the desire to be the FIRST GLOBAL Champion keeps them going.
A forearm from Darring.
Dream responds with one of his own.
Darring with a chop.
Dream with a punch.
The two exhausted, battered men are brawling on the outside. Both running on fumes. Daring seems to take control with a series of knife-edged chops as the fans rally behind him.
Dream stops his rally with a kick to the shin!
The fans boo this tactic as Darring is thrown headfirst into the ring steps before Dream tosses him back into the ring!
‘Dream is in command and looking to put Darring away.’
Dream slides back in the ring. Stalking Darring, calling, SCEAMING for the old man to stand!
Darring slowly gets to his feet…
AMERICAN DREAM LOCKED IN!!
Quinn stays calm, surprisingly. ‘Nowhere to go for Sean Darring, as great as he is, but we know he won’t give up.’Darring is struggling in the hold once more! He’s trying to get to the ropes! Trying to reach for that leverage… He’s right there…!!‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream throws him forward! American Dream turned into AMERICAN REVOLUTION!!Wait! Daniel stumbles! Darring drops low..!AND DROPS ‘Carnivore’ Daniel Dream ON THE TOP ROPE WITH THE FLASHBANG (Stun Gun)!!
Lucas takes us for a brief trip back in time. ‘The Stun Gun is the finisher of Darring’s old mentor just as he was breaking into the business as ‘The Natural’ and it has served Sean remarkably well here.’
DREAM DROPS TO THE MAT CLUTCHING HIS THROAT AND DARRING IGNORES ALL THE PAIN IN HIS BODY AS HE PRACTICALLY THROWS HIMSELF INTO A PIN, KNOWING THIS IS HIS ONE! LAST! SHOT!ONE!!.
.
.
TWO!!.
.
.
THREE!!.
.
.
WAS THAT IT??!.
.
.
YES!! RING THE BELL!!DING! DING! DING!
‘I CANNOT BELIEVE IT.’ Quinn exclaims.
A moment of silence quickly subsides and gives way to a deafening roar from the 2,500 fans in The Globe, many of them firmly behind ‘Legend’ Sean Darring, as the commentators stay quiet and let The Legend bask in another amazing moment, another milestone in a career littered with championships and achievements, and this one the latest (and for us, greatest) in an unbelievable body of work.
‘The Master has created another masterpiece, The Legend lives on and against all odds, the forty-something has turned back time to become the FIRST EVER GLOBAL Champion, here at Magnum Opus.’
Daniel Dream shakes his head in disbelief. ‘The Final Countdown’ comes on full blast, threatening to burst everyone’s ear drums, as Marcus Anthony Newman picks his microphone up. ‘THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH AND THE FIRST EVER GLOBAL CHAMPION…LEGEND. SEAN. DARRING!!!’
An almighty eruption occurs, registering on the scale somewhere. Dream, down but not out, shakes his head and figuratively kicks himself as he takes on look back, stepping through the ropes to exit and reflect on what might have been.
All smiles, Giovanni Ferrarri, with the GLOBAL Championship belt clutched in his hands, steps through the ropes, congratulating the exhausted Darring, who in typical gentlemanly fashion, wipes the sweat off his hands, fixed to proudly claim the rich prize that he, and Dream and Reyn, gave their heart and soul in the hope of achieving this moment.
Ferrari shakes his hand, insistent on unfurling and wrapping the new belt. After a brief hitch, and a laugh at himself, he gets there. Darring raises his arms in the air after the crowd gives him a thundering and well-deserved ovation.
‘They were all amazing.’ Reece says, her voice breaking.
‘The Great Work, well it was done by all three. This man, through all of his experience, intelligence, hard work, diligence, resilience and determination, used all of those attributes and more to stay in it. Great sportspeople, or people period, in all walks of life find a way to win, even when it looks unlikely. Sean Darring did just that.’ Allie proudly declares.
‘He definitely did, and you’re right, Allie. They all had their moments, but Darring did just enough, to have his moment of glory. A true champion by anyone’s metric and a proud moment for him, and for us to have him as our captain, our flagbearer and franchise player moving forward. What a man, what a champion and what a legend. Congratulations, Sean.’ The Mark remarks.
Fireworks go off, Darring unflinched, as he takes the title off and holds it in the air for the people, a man of the people, as if he’s saying. ‘I may have won it, but this is every bit yours as it is mine.’
As the show is set to go off the air, Darring returning to the corner where ‘he put his feet up’ before, and now he actually can having MORE THAN earned it, the voice of GLOBAL signs us off. ‘I have said Bet on Dream for weeks now. I guess what I should have also said alongside that is NEVER bet against ‘Legend’ Sean Darring. An incredible competitor to the end and what a way to end Magnus Opus. ANOTHER masterpiece by Darring, but Reyn and Dream, too. What a match and what a night. Congratulations to everyone involved, and we’ll see you in Miami for what will be an emotionally-charged evening in a fortnight. GOOD NIGHT.’
Winner: 'The Legend' Sean Darring