WHO WILL HAVE THE LAST LAUGH?
“WELCOME TO THE GLOBE, WELCOME TO LOS ANGELES, AND WELCOME TO…THE LAST LAUGH,” the now-familiar booming voice of Lucas Quinn announces as fans are treated to the sight of fireworks and a rather raucous crowd ready for GLOBAL’s fourth outing on pay-per-view, and the first of Season Two.
Lucas Quinn looks immaculate, as always, with a brown suit, white shirt and a blue and green GLOBAL tie. To his left, Mark Deltzer has a white shirt, matching sneakers and black trousers while Allie Reece, on the opposite side, dazzles in a blue-sequin dress and purple heels, all combining to complement her pink shoulder-length hair.
“GLOBAL Nation, this is what we’ve been waiting for. A steel cage match tops the bill, the Legend himself, Sean Darring, will defend the GLOBAL Championship against the dangerous, unpredictable, and unstable Jerry David. Who will see the funny side of things tonight, the two of them locked in a steel cage, following a bitter rivalry, instigated by the challenger to get under the skin of the veteran, Sean Darring” Lucas sells.
“No doubt, Lucas, and Sean Darring has been a brilliant champion, but Jerry David is already battle-hardened, having emerged as the winner of GLOBAL’S greatest-ever feud, emphatically too, putting EZ Rah to rest. He beat Steve Blaine up for a reason. The funny thing, no pun intended, I don’t think it’s personal for Jerry, but he made it personal for Sean Darring. It was a callous, calculated and arguably amazing thing, I deplore it, don’t condone it, but from the challenger’s perspective? Do whatever it takes to win? It might be the key to victory tonight,” Deltzer holds his hands up.
“No chance,” Allie is dismissive immediately.
“A rematch between The Rutherford Guys, Daniel Dream and Nikolai Sinclair, and Trouble Roxx, who’ve been hard at work to make amends,” Lucas sets Allie up.
“I think they will,” Reece reckons.
“I don’t.”
Allie brushes that off.
“What about John J. Truth v Crusader X for the INTERNATIONAL Championship?”
Reece points at Mark.
“I wouldn’t like to call that one. Crusader X is one of the most amazing athletes you’ll ever see, but Truth is dirty, dogged, determined, and has Border Control in his corner. What I will say is that it could steal the show,” The Mark states.
“The Rich Family and Prime Time Athletes is one of the longest, strongest and most bitter rivalries that we’ve seen so far in GLOBAL Will it end tonight? It seems so. Come on, The Riches,” Allie shouts.
“Unashamedly biased,” The Mark quips.
“Damn right. And my girl, Angel Ramirez, will lead her team to glory against Miranda Wright’s slaves in a six-on-six elimination encounter,” Reece nails her colors to the mast.
“Keegan and Darren Best will have it out, falls count anywhere, with the veteran looking to teach Darren Best a lesson, and punish him for crimes against professional wrestling,” The Mark announces.
“Best of British against Metal Militia is another make-or-break bout for both teams in our loaded tag team division, and Valorie Vitality will also be in action against Alfie Button, The Mark with the exclusive on that later,” Lucas rounds off.
“I’ve got another exclusive, Lucas. Son of Malta and Alex Reyn is OFF. We’ll know more about that on Domination Twenty, and it will be our main event then too, so what a way to start the new year,” The Mark raves.
“In the meantime, what a way to end THIS year – The Last Laugh,” Lucas rounds off, staring down the camera at the GLOBAL Nation.
SAFE
A white text subtitle reading “ONE WEEK BEFORE THE LAST LAUGH…” appears on the bottom of the screen.
We fade in to an empty Fruit Punch Jarritos bottle sits on a table in a dark room in center frame.
A pair of hands holding a phone comes into view. The phone has a telltale black X on a white background on the case. As Crusader X leans into view, he begins speaking.
“John… John… John.” X shakes his head. “You may be the most deluded son of a bitch I’ve ever met. You think you’re a brave warrior fighting for freedom and truth. You think you’re a shining example of American values. You think you’re a great champion. But do you want to know your greatest delusion of all, cabrón?”
X leans in.
“You think you’re safe.”
A wicked smile spreads across his face.
“You think that hiding behind your little SS brigade and paying off Staggs makes you untouchable. You think that, because I ‘couldn’t get past your boys’, because you STOLE that match from Alfie and I, that I won’t be challenging you at the pay per view.” X shrugs. “Alright,” he says nonchalantly. “Let’s put that to the test.”
X presses something on his phone. It’s a different model than we’ve seen before. A burner phone, perhaps? A dial tone sounds. As the call is picked up, he turns the phone to the camera to show the name on the screen.
Giovanni Ferrari.
“Giovanni Ferrari speaking,” sound the phone’s speakers. “May I ask who’s calling… AND how you got my private number?”
“Hello, Mr. Ferrari. It’s Crusader X.”
“X?! Oh thank God.” His relief is clearly audible. “We’ve been trying to reach you for three weeks now. Only Alfie’s gotten a hold of you and he said he got one word answers. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you.” X’s tone is jovial. “Everything came back great. I’m 100% cleared and ready to go, physically and mentally.”
“Great! That’s great to hear.” Ferrari pauses… and then his tone changes to an angry one.
“Where the [bleeep] have you been?!” he shouts. X smiles and nods through it as Ferrari continues. “You didn’t show up at Domination 19 to tape a promo, you didn’t send us anything, you didn’t communicate with us at all about bookings… The Last Laugh is a week away! What were you thinking?!”
X’s tone loses most of its joviality. “Listen, Mr. Ferrari. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things actually. About my career, about GLOBAL, about my place in the company. It’s no secret, but I’m… pretty displeased about this company’s handling of the treatment I’ve received at the hands of Mr. John J. Schmidt recently.”
“Ohyou’vegottabe[bleep]ingkiddingme,” mutters Ferrari under his breath.
X’s smile drops and his tone gets more serious. “I don’t think the board has done enough to reprimand him for his behavior… or to protect myself and Alfie. We both feel very unsafe. To tell you the Truth…” X says, emphasizing the word “Truth”, “It’s made me reconsider renewing my contract at the end of-”
“Okay. Okay. Enough. What do you want? And before you say anything, if the answer is “fire Truth,” the answer is no. We’ve already suspended him. That’s all I can do at this point.” Ferrari drops the exasperated tone in his voice and goes full PR mode for the last sentence, almost sarcastically. “How can we handle this situation in a way that makes you feel safer?”
X leans in to the phone. A growl creeps into his voice. “I want John J. Schmidt. One on one. At the pay per view. For the International title. No gimmicks. No bull[bleep]. Just him and me. The way it’s supposed to be. I want to end this. And I don’t care that Alfie and I lost. I DEMAND-”
“Done.” Ferrari cuts him off.
X backs away from the phone in mock surprise, as though he expected this. “Really? Just like that?” he says. “I thought I’d have to fight for it.”
Ferrari chuckles. “Did Border Control really scramble your brain THAT badly? Come on, X. The heroic masked luchador trying to get revenge on an evil racist freak? That match is a license to print money. You want it, I want it, the board wants it, the fans want it. The only ones who don’t want it are Truth and his goons… and it looks like they’ve been outvoted.”
Ferrari and X laugh together.
Ferrari continues. “And no, I don’t care that you lost. Truth wants to make a mockery of my company? I want you make a mockery out of him. But if I’m gonna do this, I need you to hold up your end, alright? If you EVER pull this ghosting [bleep] again, you’re on your own. For good.”
“Of course, Mr. Ferrari. I apologize. I’ll be better about communication in the future.” A smile creeps across X’s face. His tone becomes glib. “Oh! Speaking of communication, I should probably let you know that I’ve been filming this conversation.”
“…SERIOUSLY?” Ferrari’s almost shouting. “Why?!” His tone is incredulous.
X shrugs. “We could use it to promote the match. Might make for some good television. I can delete the video if you want, though.”
Ferrari snorts through his nose. “No, no, we’ll use it. I don’t care. I’ve gotta go. Got a conference call in ten. Have a good night, ya goddamn weirdo.”
CLICK.
X sets his phone down. He nods and laughs.
“And with a simple conversation… your delusion of safety…”
X stands up and walks out of frame.
CLINK!!
X roundhouse kicks the Jarritos bottle off the table. It flies out of frame. CRSSHH! The sound of it breaking can be heard off screen.
“…has been shattered.”
X grabs the camera suddenly. His whole face fills the frame as he shouts:
“BRACE YOURSELF!”
mAKING AMENDS
Backstage, The Informer is standing beside two familiar faces who have, nevertheless, not been seen for some time in the halls of GLOBAL Wrestling. Clad in baseball caps and loose-fitting garments, Teagan Trouble and Izzy Roxx grin at both the backstage interviewer and the camera itself, the redhead even giving the latter a little wave. A cheer is heard from off-camera as the intrepid reporter begins his spiel.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome…tonight’s challengers for the GLOBAL Tag Team Championships…Trouble Roxx. Ladies…”
The interviewer begins to turn towards the two girls, clearly ready to fire off a question, only to be interrupted by Teagan Trouble.
“…before anything else, dude, we just wanna say…we’re sorry for how we treated you last time. We were in kind of a crappy place, but that’s still no excuse.” The redhead grins. “We promise we’ll give you more than one word this time.”
The smile is returned by the interviewer, who is finally able to set up the line of questioning.
“Ladies…you are facing off tonight against GLOBAL Tag Team Champions, The Rutherford Guys, who won the belts from you back in September, in a match where, no offence, you appeared to come off second best. In light of that, how are you feeling going into this match?”
Surprisingly, Teagan’s answer, when it comes, is surprisingly even.
“You’re absolutely right, dude. We WERE second best. Daniel and Niko won custody of our babies fair and square. No court in America would have ruled against us.” Trouble’s mischievous grin makes another appearance. “…which is why we went to Japan to settle this case.”
“That’s right, we did hear you had been training in Japan. What impact do you think that will have on the outcome of tonight’s match?”
“Well, Informer, all I can tell you is, we’ve got a game plan…and the Rutherford Guys aren’t ready for it. They have NO IDEA what’s coming their way. No one does.” Teagan’s smile grows wider, a cocksure expression spreading across her features. “Trouble Roxx 2.0 has landed – and tonight, we’ll be looking to make amends for what happened three months ago. Daniel and Niko may be sitting back there right now thinking they’re about to get an easy lay-up win, but an hour or so from now…they might feeling a lot different. An hour or so from now, when all is said and done…we’ll see who gets The Last Laugh.” Trouble points out towards the camera, tilting her head downwards so her aviator shades slide down her nose. “Dream…Sinclair…brace yourselves. Winter is coming. And by the end of tonight…you just might find yourselves out in the cold.” The redhead pats her partner on the shoulder. “C’mon, Iz.”
That turns out to be the cue for both women to exit stage left – though not without the otherwise silent Izzy gesturing to the camera to the effect of “watch us”. After a moment, however, the Informer finds himself totally alone in the interviewing area, and therefore left with no choice but to wrap up the segment and throw the feed elsewhere.
It is said that once each millennia a monster is born unto innocent parents. Those parents always seem to try their best, but can never quite get the hand of raising the antichrist. And so it stands to reason that, inevitably, eventually, the child finds itself abandoned. Some parents are resilient and bullheaded, refusing to give up on their special, misunderstood little buttercup. Some parents, however, are crackheads.
This is a story of the latter parenting approach.
The corridors of the hospital were as sterile as its operating tables; white walls, turquoise floors and strip light after strip light split the ceiling like lanes on the freeway.
The windows have chicken wire running through them, and through the slightly frosted windows only darkness exists as the cold midnight sky huddles behind thick grey clouds. Rain slaps against the window in waves as the cold wind howls.
In the one occupied hospital bed on a ward of eight beds a woman screams. Her screams echo down the sterile hallways, bouncing from the soulless hard-wearing painted walls, rattling from the steel fabricated trolleys stocked with bandages and blood pressure monitors, and off down the corridor the screams scurry like a chimpanzee in a diaper; uncontrolled, erratic, and with little grace.
The woman has refused to give her name. The midwife presumes this is because there is likely to be several warrants out for her arrests by the looks of her. She is a skinny woman, her mottled and pocked skin sags from her bones. Her curly hair is tied up in a tight bun, pulling some of the wrinkles out of her face, but by no means pulling all of them from her face. This amount of wrinkles, the midwife surmised, would require the work of a very skilled plastic surgeon to put right. She is 23 years old, but she could pass for late-50s.
“Get this fuckin’ thing OUTTA MEEEEEEE!” she howls as the pain of another contraction thunders through her body.
The midwife reassures her that she is doing well, which she isn’t, and that she is nearly there, which she is not.
Hours pass as the rain and wind refuse to relent, as the pain of this birth intensifies, until eventually the midwife says those three magic words that all women long to hear.
“One last push!”
With a scream, followed by a squelch, a baby is born, but another sound follows the familiar squelch, a sound that the midwife has never heard before during labour.
A rustling.
“It’s a baby bo–GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
The umbilical cord is wrapped around the nurse’s throat as the baby pulls and pulls. The nurse gurgles and collapses to the bed, then to the floor.
The mother howls in pain and shock, pressing on the nurse call button as the baby topples from the back of the unconscious nurse and begins to cry.
The new mother peers over the edge of her bed and finds that on top of the baby’s head appears to be a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos.
And so concludes the nativity tale of the Antichrist.
Doritos Man.
Merry fuckin’ Christmas.
LIKE AN AMERICAN HERO
Rutherford and his clients are seen backstage with The Informer.
“I am here with the Rutherford Guys. Welcome gentlemen.”
Rutherford shakes hands with the man, while Nikolai and Daniel just stand there with their championships hanging over their shoulders.
“I got a lot of burning questions from the last show, but let me start with this, Richard, how do you feel the time here at Global has been for your clients?”
Rutherford smirks. “You know what. When I first arrived, I did loads of research and strategy planning to figure out how I was going to handle this Mr. Dream and Mr. Zebub situation. Bringing Mr. Sinclair to give a guiding hand was always part of my plan. Mr. Dream was almost brainwashed. I say almost because he realized quickly who stepped up to help when he was about to be beaten down. He got reminded what we could do as a group. Yes, it took a few weeks before I revealed who it was, but deep down I believe Mr. Dream knew I would never come here alone. Fast-forward a few weeks. Mr. Dream is now holding gold and has had numerous main event matches. That is what we have always done. That is why my clients are THE best tag team in the world. Is it the gold Mr. Zebub pushed for? No…but here is the thing with us. If we lose, we bounce back. I do not believe in public humiliation after a loss….well…at least not if my clients would be on the receiving end of it.”
The Informer takes a second before turning to Daniel.
“Daniel, I got a two part question for you. First, we have now heard your manager’s words about the situation. But what is your version of the past few months for you? and secondly, what would your path be looking like under the guidance of Zebub?”
“It’s a ‘what have you done for me lately’ industry,” Daniel asserts, a confident tone in his voice. “When Richard went on vacation, I couldn’t let the industry forget about me, so I teamed up with Benedict Beel Zebub. But things didn’t work out. Look at what Rutherford has done for me lately,” he concludes, raising the championship on his shoulder.
“I must say you have been doing very well, Daniel,” The Informer says before turning towards Nikolai.
“Nikolai, you have made quite an impact since your arrival. But we don’t know much about you. However, last show we did some hints towards a previous rivalry. Is that something that might continue here in Global?”
Nikolai whispers to Rutherford, who nods in agreement.
“Mr. Sinclair has enjoyed a new industry to dominate. Was he expecting an old rival to be here? Yes because I warned him. His rivalry with Mr. Reyn was based on hard fought victories. In the end Mr. Sinclair beat Mr. Reyn so bad he left the company and was not heard from again. We thought we were done with him….but I guess not. For now the focus is on the Tag Team Championships. But if Mr. Reyn steps in my client’s way..like he did last show. There will be consequences.”
The Informer looks a bit confused the answer came from Rutherford but quickly moves on,
“Daniel. Last week was a big match for you against Son Of Malta. You did not come out victorious but what do physically and mentally draining matches like that do to you? Does it make you wish you were not a tag team or can you juggle both?”
“I want it to be known that my tap out was a strategic tap out,” Daniel responds, a determined tone in his voice. “That battle was all about pride. But I have something more valuable than pride, the Tag Team Championships. And sometimes you gotta sacrifice your pride for the greater good. I’m like an American hero.”
The Informer looks a bit surprised.
“A strategic tap out. Does that mean you, if it was not for Richard and Nikolai, you would have won that match?”
Daniel is about to answer but Richard steps in.
“Excuse me? Mr. Dream is a professional and he does prioritization based on what needs to be done. I am willing to assume the management would be less than satisfied if he continued the match, beat up Malta but got himself too injured to defend his championship on a PPV. Do you think they become the world’s best tag team without thinking further ahead than one match? In singles matches you need to be careful because if you let your team down for no reason on the big night, it’s a chip on your shoulders and you feel guilty. Strategic tap out yes…but if that was in a match for a singles Championship the risk would have been taken and Mr. Dream would have won that match for sure.”
The Informer looks excited.
“That is truly brilliant! Now as for tonight. Tag Team Championship rematch, Last time out you had the surprise advantage. This time i am sure Trouble Roxx have been keeping a close eye on you. Will you successfully defend your championships or will you fold under the pressure?”
Nikolai and Daniel look at Rutherford awaiting an answer.
“My clients will do what they do best. They will walk into that ring, they will beat the hell out of their opponents and walk out with the win. Yes, we had the surprise of Mr. Sinclair last time, but that make very little difference. Mr. Sinclair have had one match since they won their championship. Who do you think holding the cards? Trouble Roxx or Mr. Sinclair? I can promise you, unless you have been facing him numerous times, you have no idea what you are in for. Mr. Dream just come out of a very physically demanding match and standing here prepared for a fight.”
Rutherford turns towards the camera.
“Trouble Roxx, I am afraid you will lose tonight and end up in the back of the line. Maybe then you get time to properly scout my clients and realize you do not got what it takes to beat them. They are world-class athletes, and they are the WORLD’S BEST tag team. My clients will hold these championships for a long time.”
Rutherford again shake hands with The Informer before they all walk away.
THE RUTHERFORD GUYS vs TROUBLE ROXX
GLOBAL TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP
“Hollywood…are you ready?”
The proclamation, made over The Globe’s PA system by a deep, distorted voice, raises the audience’s curiosity, ahead of the explosion which ensues with the following few words, spoken in a normal tone by a familiar female voice.
“Then MAKE! SOME! NOOOOOOOIIISSSSSEEEEE!!!”
The instruction is promptly obeyed, as the arena erupts as one for the return of perhaps the most consensual tag team in the company. As such, when Teagan Trouble and Izzy Roxx emerge from behind the curtain to stand at the top of the entranceway, they are showered with an entire quarter’s worth of love from the fans – which, after brushing fingers in their special handshake, they set about acknowledging, to the booming background score of both “Mission to Rock” and “Downtown” Jason Brown.
“Ladies and gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for…”
“…ONE FALL!” As ever, the Voice of GLOBAL lets the audience indulge in their usual call-and-response pattern, before continuing.
“…and it is for the GLOBAL Tag Team Championships! Introducing first, the challengers! From Beverly Hills, California, at a combined weight of two hundred and forty pounds…the team of TEAGAN TROUBLE, and IZZY ROXX…TROUBLEEEEEEEE ROOOOOOOOOXXXXXXX!!”
As they step further onto the entranceway, the better for Teagan to do the usual count-in with her drumsticks before throwing them into the crowd, it becomes clear that the former – and, potentially, future – Champions have dressed for the occasion, with Teagan sporting the down-the-middle black-and-red pattern synonymous with Harley Quinn, while Izzy has dyed green streaks into her raven-dark hair, caked her face with white makeup and opted for a bright purple pants-and-blazer ensemble and bright yellow and purple sports top, the whole clearly meant to evoke Quinn’s perennial partner in love and crime, The Joker. Needless to say, both outfits only cause the reaction to become more raucous, as does Teagan’s new gelled-up pixie cut, which several fans attempt to touch as the two girls make thir way to the ring.
“It has been three whole months since we last saw Trouble Roxx inside a GLOBAL Wrestling ring, when they faced the very same men they will take on tonight, and saw their reign as Tag Team Champions come to an end at the hands of Daniel Dream and Niko Sinclair.”
“That’s right, Lucas – and that moment, that loss, motivated these girls to seek out further training in Japan, in order to be prepared for the challenge of this rematch here tonight. You know, in case you were wondering how committed Trouble Roxx were to pursuing their goals…”
“I never doubted them for a second, Allie.”
“Good. Now, can we talk about how the girls are SLAYING with these cosplays? Joker and Harley Quinn – because ‘The Last LAUGH’, get it? And Teagan’s new haircut? Oh. My. Gosh!”
As the two male announcers are left with little to say in the face of their female counterpart’s girlish excitement, Trouble Roxx at long last enter the ring, having been stopped multiple times for photo-ops with fans all the way down the entranceway. As they take to the center of the squared circle, Teagan holds up the microphone in her hand, a gesture which is enough to make the cheers from the crowd intensify, as they anticipate what is shortly to come. And, sure enough…
“If you don’t know who we are…”
Fans who had been gleefully chanting “…you should have been paying ATTENTION!” are, however, surprised when Teagan changes the script.
“…you should know by now. It’s been, like, a year, dude. Get with the program!”
Rather than be cross, however, the audience simply chuckle, as Teagan goes on with her statement.
“Just in case you crash-landed on Earth last week, or started following GLOBAL in the past three months – which, seriously, dude, what TOOK you so long? – we’re gonna let everybody in here tonight give you a little refresher. WE ARE…!”
Teagan holds her microphone out to the crowd and lets them be the ones to recite the usual spiel, which they do with gleeful abandon; it is, therefore, only at the very end that Teagan once again rejoins the choir.
“…and soon to be your FIRST EVER TWO-TIME GLOBAL Tag Team Champiooooonnnsss….I’m Trouble, she Roxx…and together, we’re…”
She once again lets the crowd roar out the team name, before erupting into applause. Teagan lets this carry out a while, simply smiling, before playfully teasing the crowd.
“Oh, and it’s THREE continents now, not just two. Ya girls have been in JAPAN, remember?” Teagan turns towards the hard camera, a smile dawning on her features. “By the way, shout-out to Coach Monroe! Coach, if you’re watching this, this one’s for you. Domo Arigato, Ms. Monroe-to!”
More cheering ensues, which subsides when Teagan once again brings the microphone to her lips.
“Anyway…enough goofing off. We got some gold babies to win back custody of. So both of you deadbeat dads, get your butts out here and let’s sort this out once and for all!”
“Yeah!” Izzy surprises even Teagan when she jumps in on her own live mic. “As a legendary warrior of legend once said…’enough talk. Let’s fight!’”
With that, she removes her blazer and throws it into her team’s corner, eliciting another strong reaction from the crowd. She and Teagan then both place their respective microphones beside the jacket, before turning back towards the entrance curtain, to await the arrival of their opponents, and the current Tag Team Champions
“Their opponents, led to the ring by their manager, Richard Rutherford, weighing a combined four hundred and seventy-three pounds, DANIEL DREAM, NIKOLAI SINCLAIR…THE. RUTHER-FORD. GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYYYYYYYYYYS!”
With a smile on his face, Richard walks in front of Daniel, wearing his tag belt proudly around his waist, while Niko’s is draped over his shoulder.
“Their glorious domination since Domination Fifteen has continued, but the very team they took the titles from represent their biggest threat, what can Trouble Roxx do with The Rutherford Guys? We’re about to find out in what is an outstanding opener here at The Last Laugh,” Lucas assures us.
As Dream and Sinclair enter the ring, the two teams engaged in a heated, though not entirely hostile staredown, which ends only when each of the Rutherfords surrenders his belt to referee Barry Snider, Sinclair retreating behind his team’s corner while Izzy Roxx goes to stand behind hers, where she goes about tying her long hair into a more manageable bun. With both legal wrestlers in position, and no other impediments to the match getting started, referee Snider calls for the bell, officially getting the first-ever GLOBAL Tag Team Championship rematch under way!
“Here we go! The Last Laugh is officially off to a start, with Teagan Trouble of Trouble Roxx facing off against Daniel Dream of the Rutherford Guys.”
Surprisingly, this match is not off to Trouble Roxx’s usual fast start. Rather, Teagan Trouble seems more than content with waiting for Daniel to make a move, while the same is also true of the reigning Champion; as such, for a few moments after the start of the match, neither competitor throws a strike or even makes a move, the two instead circling one another. At the announce table, Lucas takes this opportunity to talk strategy with his colleagues.
“Guys, if you’re Trouble Roxx, and you got outwrestled at GLORY and haven’t competed for three months, how are you going about winning this?”
“Keep Sinclair out of the match.” Deltzer’s answer is immediate, and assertive. Allie Reece, on the other hand, gives it a little more thought.
“Yes, definitely keep Sinclair away, but also, make Daniel Dream have to stick to a single gameplan.” She pauses for a moment before expounding on her point. “The guy is most dangerous when he has all of his arsenal at hand. Take away some of that. Make him work with limited resources. Resources you know how to counter.”
“Impressive, Allie.” Lucas sounds almost proud of his female announce partner as, in the ring, Teagan Trouble has finally gotten things started by aiming a low dropkick at Dream’s knee. The Champion, who had been swinging a clothesline, is stopped dead in his tracks as, from a prone position, Teagan aims another kick up at his kneecap, sending him reeling further and allowing her to connect with a neat leg sweep, which finally floors Dream, allowing her to kip back up to her feet and soak in the cheers of the crowd.
“Good starting sequence by Teagan Trouble, as she manages to take Daniel Dream off his feet by dealing some damage to his knee.”
“That may not seem like much at a glance, Lucas, but if you think about it, Daniel Dream is twice the size of Teagan Trouble, so really, targeting his lower half is the only way someone like her can bring him off-balance. That is actually smart strategy by my girl Double T.”
“That makes it even more of an impressive start for Trouble—and another kick to the knee of Daniel Dream!”
Indeed, when Dream once again surges forward with a clothesline, Teagan is able to duck, gain the Champion’s back, and connect with a kick to the back of his knee, which throws him off-balance again. She then repeats the gesture on the opposite joint, bringing Daniel to his knees and putting him in perfect position for Trouble’s patented leg lariat! Dream goes spiralling down to the mat, and Teagan advances for a cover!
ONE!
—Kickout by Dream!
“A little early for a cover, T-T…”
“Maybe so, Allie, but that sequence proved Teagan has a definite strategy in place here, and it involves weakening Dream’s knees.”
“Which is smart, considering how much he uses them for his offence…”
“Definitely. It’s like you said, Allie. Take away Daniel’s main weapons, and your chances increase dramatically. And so far, Teagan is doing a good job of doing just that.”
Nor is the Trouble Roxx redhead done, as she proves right after the pinfall attempt, when she chop-blocks Daniel’s knee, then, as the Richard Rutherford associate goes down, begins attempting to set up a kneebar, to the astonishment of an incredulous Mark Deltzer.
“Submission attempt from Teagan Trouble!?!?”
“Seems like they did learn something from their time in Japan…”
Dream is having none of it, however, and uses his free leg to kick Teagan in the head, sending her sprawling to the mat herself, for the first time in the matchup. The American Dream immediately begins attempting to pull himself back up to a vertical position with the help of the ropes, but Teagan once again flies in with a chop block, further weakening her opponent’s leg joint! She is then happy to comply as Barry Snider asks her to back up and give Dream some space, but as the camera pans in, it becomes apparent that her eyes are still scoping out her opponent’s knees, as Teagan plans her next move.
“How the tides have turned since the last time these two teams met! This time around, it’s the Rutherford Guys having to battle for the upper hand, against a well-prepared Trouble Roxx!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mark. There’s still plenty of match left. Let’s come back to this in a few minutes, shall we?”
“That’s right, I forgot I was talking to the number one Daniel Dream stan…”
“I’m just saying. Never count Daniel Dream out…”
As if to prove his main fan at GLOBAL right, Daniel manages to dodge Teagan’s next attempt at a knee attack, spinning out of the way and countering with a crescent kick, which sends the redhead reeling. While his knee does not appear to appreciate the choice, Dream knows he has to capitalise on this, his first opening, and leaps towards his opponent, finally connecting with a clothesline!
“Third time’s the charm for Daniel Dream, as he finds a lifeline for the first time in this match!”
“I told you never to count him out! With Dream, it ain’t over ’till it’s over!”
Having extricated himself from his predicament, Dream is finally able to come to a fully vertical base – or would have been, had Teagan not performed a dragon screw leg whip which drapes him over the ropes!
“Another new move from Teagan Trouble, and it looks like the hiatus really did pay off!”
With her opponent once again vulnerable, Teagan is able to recover from her prone position and land a blow to the back of Dream’s head, sending him to the outside! She then walks over onto her corner and tags in Izzy Roxx, before diving over the ropes and catching the recovering Dream with a big crossbody! She then quickly rolls off the top of her opponent, allowing Izzy to run along the apron and connect with a cannonball senton of her own!
“BIG impact from Izzy Roxx, and the Rutherford Guys continue to struggle to…”
“….NIKOLAI SINCLAIR FROM OUT OF NOWHERE!!”
Indeed, perhaps fed up with being powerless, the second Rutherford Guy has come around from his team’s own corner and barrelled into Teagan Trouble with a big tackle, taking her down onto the concrete. With his opponent down, he then begins to connect with stomps, which immediately draw boos from the crowd in attendance at The Globe.
“Nikolai Sinclair getting involved in this match…but I’m not sure if he wants to save his partner, or just deal damage!”
“My guess is both, Lucas…”
“Either way, my girl Izzy’s not standing for it!”
In fact, the moment she sees her partner get attacked, Izzy Roxx leaps onto the apron and flies at Niko with a crossbody, which sends them both to the ground. As such, for a long moment, all four competitors are laid out on the floor on the outside, as referee Snider continues his count.
SIX!
SEVEN!
Being the freshest of the four – as well as the legal woman for her team – Izzy Roxx is first to her feet, stumbling towards the apron at the count of EIGHT! A few feet in front of her, Dream also begins to pull himself together, and both competitors reach the apron by the count of NINE!, quickly sliding under the ropes to beat the count at virtually the same time.
“Close call for both competitors, but this match continues!”
Worried as she is about Teagan, however, Izzy takes a moment, as she pulls herself back up, to check on her best friend and partner, who is just regaining a vertical base herself. Teagan initially gives her friend a thumbs-up, but then her eyes widen in alarm, and she shouts out for Izzy to turn around. The smaller half of Trouble Roxx quickly does just that…but too late, as she is caught and spun around into a powerbomb position. Izzy thinks quickly, however, and reverses it into a headscissors, once again sending Daniel Dream into the ropes!
“Quick thinking from Izzy Roxx to escape that predicament, but little by little, the Rutherford Guys are evening things out, after a hot start by Trouble Roxx!”
As she pulls herself back up to her feet, Izzy Roxx once again goes to check on her partner, who has now regained her corner. The pair side-eye Sinclair and manager Rutherford for a moment, before Izzy tags Teagan in once again, only for Teagan to tag Izzy back in straight away. This, as it turns out, is so that they can perform the rocket launcher-type manoeuvre they call Lift-Off…
…which is caught by Daniel Dream, and reversed into a fallaway slam!
“BIG COUNTER by Daniel Dream, and that may have turned the tide, right there!”
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Mark – with the Rutherford Guys, it ain’t over ’till it’s over. Either man can turn a match around on a dime…and no amount of scouting can prepare you for that.”
Having found yet another lifeline in the match, Dream is quick to roll through to a vertical position and make a beeline for Izzy…only to find himself at the receiving end of yet another dropkick to the knee! The American Dream falls back down to a kneeling position, and Izzy takes the opportunity to connect with a headscissors, which sends him sprawling in the opposite direction.
“Trouble Roxx’s tactics continue to work a charm, and so far, this has been the opposite of their first encounter.” Mark Deltzer is seen turning to his senior broadcast partner. “Lucas, could the Rutherford Guys be suffering from overconfidence?”
“I don’t know about OVERconfidence, Mark. They definitely underestimated Trouble Roxx, but based on their previous encounter, they had no reason to think Teagan and Izzy would go through this much of a change in just a couple of months.”
“I don’t know about CHANGE, you guys.” It is the female third of the team’s turn to get involved. “Trouble Roxx have ALWAYS been this good. The match back in September was simply a case of them not being prepared for, let me remind you, a SURPRISE opponent, and letting their inexperience get the best of them.”
“WAS it just inexperience, though, Al? Or were Trouble Roxx themselves overconfident on the night?”
Surprisingly, no response is forthcoming from Allie Reece as, in the ring, Izzy Roxx narrowly avoids getting superkicked by Daniel Dream, spinning out of the way just in the nick of time. Unfortunately, this leaves her with her back momentarily turned to a famously quick opponent, and it does not take Dream more than a moment to catch her in a full nelson position; from there, he manages to connect with a full nelson facebuster, planting Izzy to the mat! He turns her over, and goes for a pinfall attempt!
ONE!
TWO—n’t be this time!
“Signs of life at long last from Daniel Dream, who finally manages to create a pinning predicament for his team!”
“Yes, Mark, but he needs to keep the momentum going. A tag to Sinclair might be just what the doctor ordered for the Rutherford Guys at the moment.”
“Richard Rutherford clearly agrees with you, Lucas…”
Indeed, Dream and Sinclair’s manager can be heard yelling instructions from ringside, to the effect that Daniel should look to tag in Nikolai. Dream acknowledges this with a brief look towards his manager as he returns to his feet, but makes it clear he is not about to interrupt his own run of offence, as he spins the groggy Izzy Roxx around and lifts her into a spinning DDT!
“NEVER WAKE UP connecting, and here’s the cover!”
ONE!
TW—inning will have to wait, as Izzy kicks out!
“Daniel Dream finally has a grip on this match, and he does not appear willing to let go of it just yet!”
“Oooh, I wonder what Richard will make of that…”
The manager, however, does not appear too put out by Dream’s course of action, simply looking on as the American Dream throws the now helpless Izzy into his team’s corner and sizes her up.
“He’s not…! Not on a bad knee, SURELY!!!”
He does. Daniel Dream runs in and connects with a running high knee attack to Izzy…with his less damaged knee. Even still, his more worn-down side is none too pleased by this, and Dream buckles slightly immediately after connecting, leading Rutherford to begin shouting instructions again. This time, however, Dream does heed them, reaching over and tagging in Nikolai Sinclair!
“Sinclair is in, and this could be a decisive moment for Rutherford’s guys!”
“It’s THE Rutherford Guys, Lucas. Get it right!”
“I wasn’t actually naming…BIG IMPACT BY SINCLAIR!!”
GLOBAL’s veteran announcer is forced to stop mid-point as Nikolai Sinclair re-introduces himself to Izzy Roxx by way of a big knee in the corner – which, unlike when his partner tried the move a moment earlier, is not hampered by a worn-down limb. He then profits from his control position in the corner to connect with a series of uppercuts to his much smaller opponent, before picking her up like it was nothing and draping her over the turnbuckle with a reverse STO!
“Big offence from Niko Sinclair, who asserts himself over Izzy Roxx!”
“Not that that’s hard when she’s half his size…”
“Even still, Allie. Nikolai Sinclair is a dangerous man, arguably more so when he is all business. We have seen both sides of him since his arrival at GLOBAL, and while he is brutal when unhinged, it was this side, the side in full control of himself, that got the job done back in September, and who appears to be doing likewise here.”
Indeed, the fresh half of the Rutherford Guys continues to be very much on top of things, as he sends his challenger literally flying overhead with a belly-to-back suplex. Then, as the increasingly groggy Izzy attempts to pull herself to her feet, he brings her up himself, before throwing her back down with a chokeslam!
“Niko Sinclair just manhandling Izzy at the moment…and this is what you were talking about earlier, Quinn. The Rutherford Guys can turn the tide of a match at any moment, if they’re given the opportunity. And unfortunately for Trouble Roxx, they absolutely gave their opponents the opportunity, and the Champions are profiting from it.”
Very much so, as it turns out, as Sinclair once again leans in to bring Izzy up to her feet. A few attempts at punches to the gut from the challenger show she is still alive, but are incapable of regaining the upper hand for her team, as Sinclair lifts her up and connects with a gutwrench neckbreaker! He then quickly follows this up with a series of elevated knee drops, further wearing down the smallest competitor in the match. The camera catches the look of shock, horror and concern on Teagan Trouble’s face as she sees this match slip away from her and her partner’s grasp, but valiantly continues to incite Izzy to make a tag. That, however, seems difficult, as Niko has her isolated all the way on the other side of the ring, where he continues to administer punishment, setting her up for an inverted belly-to-back mat slam…
…only for Izzy to reverse it into a hurricanrana!!
“WHAT A COUNTER by Izzy Roxx, and she needs a tag here!!”
The Globe comes alive as the Joker of Trouble Roxx pauses only for a moment, to shake off the cobwebs from Sinclair’s offence, before immediately setting off on her hands and knees towards the corner, looking for Harley Quinn! This proves easier said than done, however, as Sinclair recovers quickly and lunges towards her, looking to pull her back and continue his spell of offence; even as she is pulled back, however, Roxx manages one final, mighty stretch, and brings Niko Sinclair face to face with Trouble!
“YES! TAG MADE TO GALAXY BRAIN TEAGAN! GO GET ‘EM, GIRL!”
Allie’s entirely unironical scream of excitement initially catches her broadcast partners off-guard, but then has them chuckling at its girlish excitement. In the ring, however, the situation is no laughing matter, as Teagan sets out to avenge the treatment given to her best friend and partner, while also sticking to her own devised strategy – namely, by landing repeated leg kicks to either side of Niko Sinclair! Her opponent, however, appears to absorb punishment, and Teagan is barely quick enough to dodge his attempt at grabbing her into a chokeslam. This, in turn, allows her to aim a dropkick at Sinclair’s knee joint, much as she had done with Dream earlier. She then goes for a similar strike on the opposite side, but is instead forced to roll out of the way of a turning kick from an increasingly irritated Sinclair! This, in turn, allows her to land a dropkick to his back, throwing him off-balance, then trip him with a Russian leg sweep. Sinclair makes as if to get up, but Teagan reacts faster, landing her fist drop and elbow drop combo and further wearing down her bigger opponent.
“Teagan is finding her groove here against Sinclair, and if she can do to him what she did to Daniel Dream, perhaps Trouble Roxx can pull an upset here!”
“I don’t even know if I would call it an upset, Mark. This match has been evenly split enough that Trouble Roxx could credibly take it, just as much as the Rutherford Guys.”
“I…will actually give you that one, Al. You’re absolutely right.”
As the usually bickering duo reach a momentary compromise, in the ring, Teagan has backed up into her corner to tag in Izzy Roxx. Rather than go behind the turnbuckle, however, she then walks beside her partner towards the center of the ring, positioning herself on the right side of Niko, while Teagan takes the left. The two then exchange a look and hand signal, before teaming up to grab the big man and attempt to lift him up!!!
“DOUBLE SUPLEX ATTEMPT FROM TROUBLE ROXX!!”
The crowd gasp as, combining their strength, the girls are able to lift the 260lbs Sinclair and throw him back-first onto the mat – an impressive feat for two women their size, even if their attempt can only be classified as a suplex in the loosest of senses. Still, it is enough to elicit a ‘HOLY SHIT’ chant from the crowd, and a visceral reaction from the girls, who yell out in each other’s faces, pumping their arms at waist-level in celebration, before stepping in for a double high-five.
“Teagan and Izzy are elated at their effort, and who can blame them?”
“There’s a thing I didn’t expect to see from Trouble Roxx…but only goes to show that they were serious about their training…”
“They had better get serious about the match, too. As in, stop wasting time and cover the guy!”
“Give the girls a break, Mark. They just had a Super Saiyan moment.”
“…wait, you watch Dragon Ball?”
As Deltzer splutters in surprise, in the ring, Trouble Roxx fully embrace the seriousness of the moment, and Izzy Roxx goes for a cover. Snider slides in to count…
ONE!
TWO!
—and a kickout by Sinclair!
“See? If they had been quicker, that could have been a three. That’s all I was saying.”
“They’ll get there eventually, Mark. You can’t rush art.”
No sooner has Sinclair kicked out than Izzy is back on her feet, and looking to put some distance between herself and her opponent. Hearing Teagan’s call for a tag from the corner, Trouble Roxx’s blue-streaked Joker does not hesitate, beginning to make her way over to the corner…
…only for her partner to be pulled down off the turnbuckle before her very eyes!!
“RICHARD RUTHERFORD PULLING TEAGAN TROUBLE DOWN AND PREVENTING THE TAG!!”
Seeing the moment play out before her very eyes, Izzy does not even hesitate – she leaps onto the turnbuckle, calls for Teagan to ‘MOVE!’, then DIVES onto the Tag Champions’ manager with a suicide plancha!
“IZZY ROXX PUTTING HER BODY ON THE LINE FOR HER FRIEND AND TAG TEAM PARTNER!!”
“Now THAT is friendship goals…”
Unfortunately, while it has succeeded in laying out Rutherford and bought Teagan some time to recover and pull herself together, the dive has knocked Izzy for six, and it takes the smaller half of the challengers a good while to recover, prompting Snider to start his count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
Izzy is beginning to pull herself up and stumbling around by the count of ‘FIVE!’; before she can begin to find her own way back to the turnbuckle, however, Sinclair intervenes, grabbing her and throwing her against the post, then the ring steps. That is as far as he makes it, however, as Izzy’s partner chooses to repay her best friend in kind, and absolutely NAILS Sinclair with a Superkick!
“OVERDRIVE TO SINCLAIR!”
“TIMBEEEERRRR!”
As the announcers continue to lose their minds, Teagan leaps into action, bodily grabbing the dazed Izzy and pushing her towards the apron. She then helps her friend get onto the canvas and rolls her under the ring…just in time to prevent being rushed by Daniel Dream! Teagan herself is just quick enough to avoid being tackled to the floor by the other half of the Tag Team Champions, instead ducking down and tripping Daniel up, sending him crashing onto Rutherford, a few feet away! Through all this, Snider inexorably carries on with his second count of ten, having restarted it when Izzy rolled back into the ring.
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
It is now Dream’s turn to bodily lift his partner up and push him onto the apron – a task which proves much more difficult than it was for Teagan, largely due to the massive Sinclair being fully knocked-out by the kick. Still, the second Rutherford Guy is known for his strength, and is eventually able to roll Sinclair back into the ring, and stop Snider’s second count at ‘SEVEN!’
“Both competitors back in the ring now, but both worse for wear…and this one is going to come down to who can come to the quickest.”
“That’s right, Lucas – and right now, it appears Izzy is well ahead of Sinclair in that department…”
Indeed, while the Tag Team Champion is only now pulling himself together, the challenger has managed to make it all the way to her feet – even if she, too, is still attempting to fight through her groggy daze and regain her bearings. Even still, she manages to somehow wander in the right direction – towards her corner, where the fully recovered Teagan is once again waiting, hand outstretched. Seeing this, Daniel Dream rushes over to attempt to repeat Rutherford’s gesture…
…but is too late, as the tag gets made, Teagan Trouble reenters the ring, and it is Izzy who comes crashing down at the end of Dream’s grab, taking them both down onto the concrete floor!!
“TAG MADE TO TEAGAN! SINCLAIR IS DAZED! GET ‘EM, GIRLS!”
It is clear by the look on Trouble’s face that she intends to do just that, the only way she knows how. Further proof of this is given when she raises her arm in the air and stamps her foot on the canvas, signalling for her signature move. The crowd buzzes in anticipation as Teagan waits for Sinclair to regain a vertical base, then roars as their favorite surges forward, leg outstretched…
….and gets floored with a kick from out of nowhere by Sinclair, just as she herself connects with her own!
“OVERDRIVE!!!”
“VICTIM’S END!!!”
The crowd’s pitch only increases as both competitors crash to the mat, knocked out from the impact of the other’s big strike! In fact, for a long moment, all that can be heard inside the Globe are the chants of ‘HOLY BLEEP!‘, which drown out Snider’s third ten-count in as many minutes!
ONE!
TWO!
“I guess Teagan did not wear down those legs quite enough, and it cost her, unfortunately…”
“She managed to take Sinclair down with her, though…and now, this one could come down to this one ten-count being answered!”
THREE!
FOUR!
“You’re not wrong, Mark. Both teams have exhausted everything they had in the tank at this point. I see this one coming down to who can muster up that extra portion of resistance, and answer Snider’s count before it expires…”
FIVE!
Right now, however, that is proving difficult for either competitor, both of which, halfway through the count, are only just beginning to stir. Snider presses inexorably on.
SIX!
SEVEN!
“I’m starting to worry this could end in a draw here. I don’t see either Teagan or Sinclair making it to the end of this count…especially after both took multiple impact-based moves in quick succession…”
“We’ll just have to see, Mark…” Her reply given, Allie’s tone drops to a whisper. “Come on, Teagan…come on, girl…”
EIGHT!
“Come on, Teagannnn…”
NINE!
“OK, I’m officially calling it. This one is a dra—”
“—NO!!! SINCLAIR’S ARM IS UP!!! NIKOLAI SINCLAIR HAS ANSWERED THE TEN-COUNT!!”
Lucas Quinn’s breathless exclamation is matched by an equally incredulous gasp from the crowd, which is then immediately followed by a curious mixture of disappointment, disapproval and admiration for the Tag Team Champions’ incredible feat of endurance. This is, therefore, the background audio “Downtown” Brown’s voice has to cut through as he makes the result official.
“Ladies and gentlemen…the winners of this match, as the result of a TKO…and STILL! YOUR! GLOBAL! Tag! Team! CHAMPIOOOOONNNSSSS…Daniel Dream and Nikolai Sinclair….THE RUTHERFOOOOORDDDD GUUUUUYSSSSS!!!”
“Say what you want about their attitudes, but the Rutherford Guys are absolutely the real deal inside the squared circle, and they’ve proved it again here tonight!”
“That’s right, Mark, but let’s not overlook Trouble Roxx’s effort here as well. The girls may not have made good on their promise to have The Last Laugh and win back the titles, but they DID show up with a gameplan, executed it perfectly, and brought the result down to a coin toss. If you compare their performance tonight with the last time these two teams met, it’s apples and oranges.”
“Absolutely, Allie. And let’s not forget the technical prowess our challengers displayed here tonight, as well.”
“I wasn’t, Lucas. Believe me. I mean, Sinclair is STILL feeling that kick…”
Indeed, as he is helped up by his partner and manager and has his hand raised, Nikolai still appears a little out of sorts; even still, he joins Daniel in holding up the belts and pumping their fist at the crowd, while, directly behind them, Izzy Roxx weeps as she helps her own partner back to her feet.
“Heartbreak for Trouble Roxx, but they can walk out of the Globe tonight with their heads held high, and a valid claim to another rematch in the very near future.”
“Absolutely, Lucas. Even still…it’s always disappointing to get so close to a goal and be unable to complete it…and Teagan and Izzy will be feeling that pain right about now. Their mood will definitely be at the opposite end from where it was a half-hour or so ago. As you said, though, I would not be TOO discouraged…if they keep improving on what they’ve shown tonight, the future can only be brighter for these girls.”
It is on a close-up of Izzy relaying the news to her best friend and the two girls sharing their tears that the feed cuts away elsewhere…
A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE
Teagan Trouble has finally managed to wipe the last streak of a tear away from her cheek and once again put on her brave face when her cellphone begins to vibrate somewhere deep in her sports bag. Initially unsure of where the device is, and becoming increasingly worked up by the incessant buzzing, the redhead is one step away from simply tipping the bag upside down when she finally finds the small black rectangle, still tucked away in one pocket of her jeans. Mentally scolding herself for simply throwing her clothes into the bag, Trouble whips the phone to eye level, and is met with an unexpected close up of a frowning blonde woman flipping a black-nailed finger at the lens, the words ‘COACH MONROE’ etched across her forehead like a slogan, directly above an international cellphone number.
Whatever strength the Trouble Roxx member had managed to dredge up from deep inside her immediately seeps out of her, and she suddenly has to find a place to sit in order to prevent her legs from bucking under her. She therefore signals to her still-tearful partner, and the two momentarily park themselves on the foremost of a row of equipment crates placed near the rear exit of the arena. Only then does Teagan dare answer the phone, only to be met with the predictable temper explosion.
“Are you two fucking shitting me? I called like five times already! Pick up your goddamn phones!”
“…hey, Coach…” Teagan is unable to even muster up the usual attitude when confronted with one of her trainer’s rants, instead simply greeting her in a tone as listless as her mood. This causes Jacqui Monroe to abruptly halt her tirade, switching to a far softer tone as she now addresses her student directly.
“Hey, kid….you OK?”
Once again, Teagan can only conjure up a shrug, as, beside her, her partner lapses into another fit of sobbing. The redhead’s eyes shift sideways for a moment, and a look of concern comes over her features.
“Uh, Coach? Can I call you back?”
“I doubt you have enough credit to make calls to fucking Japan…” The blonde’s snark returns in full force for a moment, only to give way to yet another tone, this one of total seriousness. “Besides, I want Grasshopper to hear this too.”
“It’s…really not a good time, Coach…” Teagan once again attempts to end the call, but her coach is having none of it, and her next few words make both girls jump from their sheer volume.
“GRASSHOPPER!! STOP BLUBBERING LIKE A GODDAMN BABY AND *LISTEN TO ME*!”
The sudden explosion startles the tears out of Izzy Roxx, who is nevertheless still sniffling as she shuffles closer to her partner, the better to look into the lens.
“Hey, Coach…” Unlike Teagan’s, Izzy’s voice is the husky croak of someone who has been endeavouring her best to drive all emotions out of herself through her tearducts. Once again, Monroe’s tone softens at the sound, as the Coach repeats the same question she had posed to Teagan moments before.
“Are you OK?”
“I…*sniff*…I’m sorry…” Izzy can barely coax the words out, leading Teagan to place a hand on her back in solidarity. Their Coach, however, has no such sentiment.
“Sorry for WHAT?”
“You…*sniff*…you KNOW what for, Coach…”
“No. No, I really fucking don’t. Please enlighten me.”
It is Teagan’s turn to gape in disbelief. “Um…isn’t it *obvious*?”
“Again..no. No, it’s fucking not. I mean, I know I’m blonde, but am I missing something here?”
“Um…we *lost*…?”
Monroe’s tone is in stark contrast with her student’s as she replies. “Yeah, so…?”
This only compounds Teagan Trouble’s surprise, even managing to tap into her anger reserves. “…SO, we couldn’t do what we came to you to do!” Tears brim the redhead’s eyes as her tone steadily rises. “All that training…all that effort…all those hours and days and months…and we weren’t good enough! We STILL weren’t good enough!” Conscious of making a scene in a public hallway, the redhead makes a titanic effort to pull herself together as she once again slumps down onto her seat. “You were right, Coach…we ARE just a couple of one-trick ponies who got lucky. We’re nowhere near ready yet. In fact…” Trouble manages a dry chuckle. “…in fact, we wouldn’t know ‘ready’ if it porked us in the butt and took both our wallets.”
Her sanitised version of her Coach’s own comment is, however, not enough to draw the expected chuckle out of Monroe, and a long moment of awkward silence ensues, to the point where Teagan feels obliged to break it. Just as she is about to open her mouth, however, Monroe finally speaks.
“Are. You. Fucking. SHITTING. Me?!”
Whatever words Teagan had prepared die in her throat as the blonde force of nature launches into the sort of speech she once made a career out of.
“Are you SERIOUSLY fucking shitting me right now? Did you SEE how that match ended? Did you SEE what you two DID in there? Are you seriously that fucking dense that you can’t tell the difference from the FIRST time you fought those guys?” Monroe shakes her head. “Don’t bother answering that, I know you know you’re not. And that’s why it PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF to see you two sitting there crying like a pair of goddamn three-year-olds instead of being proud of yourselves.”
These words cause both women to raise an eyebrow. “Proud…? But…”
“…but NOTHING. You lost. True. You lost because you got kicked in the head and the other guy got kicked in the head a little less hard. You lost because you were down for ONE SECOND longer. You lost because his arm just happened to fucking move at the exact right time. You didn’t get pinned. You didn’t get shown up like the first time. You didn’t chump out. You went in there, you used your game plan, and it WORKED. It fucking WORKED. I can’t stress this enough.” Monroe is now gesturing wildly in her agitation. “You took Daniel Dream out of that match. DANIEL DREAM. YOU two. Grasshopper and Strawberry Shortcake. Not even two hundred and fifty pounds between you. And you stop the Number One Contender to the goddamn World Title from doing anything all match long.”
“He’s not—” Once again, however, Teagan’s words get cut right across by her Coach, now fully lost in her own words.
“And that suplex? HOT DAMN! That shit made me jump up out of my goddamn chair! Again….two hundred and fifty pounds between you, and you pull THAT off, and then you come crying to me that you didn’t win? You work together, and you get a guy twice your size off his feet, and you have the GODDAMN BRASS OVARIES to sit there and tell me TO MY FACE that I was right about you being lucky?” Monroe shakes her head again. “Do me a favor, cupcakes…get that shit ALL the way out of here. In fact…” The blonde scorches the girls with her dark green gaze. “…in fact, if that’s the mindset you wanna have coming out of that match, maybe don’t bother reporting back. I don’t train fucking babies. I train warriors. So, if you come across that pair of warriors I saw in that ring tonight, tell ’em I got a guest room and a sofa bed available.”
Another long moment of silence follows fhis final rant, where the only sound heard is both girls’ nervous gulping; then, at length, the usual suspect speaks up.
“You…we…” Teagan pulls herself together, actually straightening her back in an attempt to bolster her own ailing self-esteem. “…we’re sorry, Coach. You’re right.” The redhead somehow manages a sad grin. “We DID kind’a kill it, didn’t we?”
“Kid, you did better than nine out of ten out of all my students would have done in that situation. Hell, you did better than your friend Hellraven.”
“Who?” The redhead’s genuine surprise brings a chuckle out of the coach.
“Yeah, it figures she didn’t tell you.” Then, taking pity on her students, she clarifies. “I meant Hayley.”
“Seriously? Better than Hayley?” Teagan’s tone is somewhere between surprise and skepticism, but Monroe simply nods.
“Do I ever just make up shit to make you feel good about yourselves?”
“Um…NO?!” Izzy’s sudden crash-landing into the conversation makes both other parties in the exchange laugh, and her partner punch her playfully in the shoulder.
“Welcome back, Rocketship Izzy! We thought we’d lost you out in space!”
Monroe, however, is far more pragmatic, simply going on with her point. “Anyway, like you said, I don’t bullshit. So if I’m telling you you did good, *you did fucking good*. Capeesh, cupcakes?”
This time, the answer comes loud and clear. “One hundred percent, Coach!”
Monroe nods. “Good. Maybe I won’t start changing the locks just yet after all…”
The ensuing, comfortable silence speaks louder than any further words could.
FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE - DARREN BEST V KEEGAN
“A strange match of sorts on the way, a falls-count-anywhere clash between Darren Best and Keegan, and we all saw the match shaping up, out here on commentary and closer to it than most feuds and matches that come about,” Lucas Quinn smiles.
“Keegan blames Darren Best for Alex Reyn’s destruction here in GLOBAL and elsewhere. When Reyn was at his lowest ebb, Darren offered an olive branch to team together, probably because Best wanted to finally get revenge on Reyn for all the pain and humiliation, but wanted to do it with Reyn at a hundred percent, and not a shadow, not the man that Gemini could brag about beating twice,” The Mark fills people in.
“That makes sense, from Keegan’s perspective. We’ve seen it here, you’ve told us about it Mark, a lot of people have suffered at Alex Reyn’s hands unnecessarily. Keegan and Darren being two of them, Freddie Rich, VIP, and you’ve told us Paul Sanders’s problems stem from Reyn too, speaking of which…”
“Doing okay, Allie. He’ll be at Domination Twenty in the new year,” The Mark gladly reveals.
“Great news,” Lucas claps.
“Club Foot” by Kasabian interrupts the banter between the three-pronged commentary team as the crowd volume builds and builds.
“He’s in control, and don’t be surprised if he is for the majority of this match, because the stipulation suits him, and Darren’s got his work cut out for him. If he can put Keegan down, off the back of Mr. Merchandise, you can believe Darren Best is back to his, er, best,” The Mark chuckles.
“You’re not funny.”
Keegan emerges to a great ovation. Black boxing trunks with a white trim, dark brown hair brushed to one side, and a goatee with bulging muscles and a grin the size of the Tyne Bridge.
“Always popular, always dangerous, always ready to go to war with someone,” The Mark raves.
“Oh, without a doubt. I’ve never had the displeasure of facing him, I know people who have, and they say he hits like a truck. Darren Best is coming off a satisfying win over Mr. Merchandise and talk about coming full circle. At the start of the season, Best ate one of the biggest surprises we’ve seen, perhaps in the history of GLOBAL, losing to Mr. Merchandise, but at the third time of asking, he recorded a decisive victory and brings that confidence here.” Quinn agrees and expands.
“Definitely, but this is a different opponent, evening, stipulation, and proposition altogether. Darren struggled to get over the line against Mr. Merchandise, who’s a better wrestler and athlete than Keegan, but Keegan brings power, danger, and a thirst for justice to punish Best because of Alex Reyn’s actions. It’s a totally different match-up, one which may play into Darren’s hands, though I don’t think it will for that stipulation alone. If this were a regular wrestling match, but it isn’t, and Keegan can’t get disqualified? Oh, man. I don’t envy Darren Best right now,” The Mark shakes his head.
Keegan stops his entrance halfway down, folds his arms, and waits for Best.
The recently deceased Tina Turner’s iconic anthem “The Best” plays.
“Keegan won’t even give him the luxury of a pay-per-view entrance,” Allie complains.
“He’s ready for war and ready to punish Darren Best,” The Mark interjects.
Darren Best, his blue tights and shoulder-length hair glistening in the spotlight, enters to a positive reaction, suggesting a crowd split, and he walks right towards Keegan, not looking away. In the end, he adopts a fuck-it attitude and dashes towards the veteran powerhouse, and they exchange punches in the aisle, which Keegan quickly wins after four apiece to be exact. He rams Best’s head into the rail before tossing him over into the fans, who stand back straightaway, respecting both Best and Keegan, who might be about to join them.
“That might’ve been a mistake,” The Mark warns.
“Fight fire with fire,” Allie reacts.
“Which is a mistake. He has to be smarter, not braver,” Deltzer retorts.
He doesn’t, yet at least, throwing a big right that puts Best on his back, not long after the New York native managed to climb to his feet, which must be disheartening. Keegan climbs over the barricade, only to throw Best back where has just come from, and then the fighter rejoins Best back in the aisle.
“Darren’s getting dizzy,” Lucas muses.
“Not that dizzy, though,” Allie reacts upon seeing Best meet Keegan with a right to the ribs, which Keegan weathers and he emerges from another exchange victorious, via a headbutt before slamming Best on the concrete.
“The tenacity and physicality that Keegan possesses might be too much for Darren,” Lucas opines.
“I wouldn’t write him off completely, but you’re right” The Mark throws in.
“I would,” Allie jokes as she sees The Geordie Genius SMASH Darren’s head off the left-sided barricade with a Russian legsweep. Keegan shakes his head, hinting that this needn’t be happening, but dispels that thought momentarily by dragging Darren up and slamming Best’s head off the opposite barricade, slightly closer to the squared circle.
“You’ve changed your tune,” The Mark chortles.
“Well, it’s a woman’s prerogative, isn’t it?”
“This is wild. The match, I mean,” The Mark declares.
Keegan then chucks Darren towards the spotlight, whipping him spine-first against the edge of the apron, but Best comes back with a lariat, which Keegan shrugs off, and instead, drops Darren where he stands with a cracking clothesline of his own.
“He isn’t messing around,” Deltzer says, shaking his head.
“No, he isn’t, and now he’s setting Darren up…Irish whip into the steps, which he gets, of course, he does, and Best is in a world of trouble. This is a mismatch, Mark,” Lucas laments.
Keegan walks up the ring steps, with Best in tow, dragging Darren. The Brit, rather aptly and ceremonially, wipes his feet on the apron before mule kicking Darren between the legs, yes it’s a blatant low blow that no one can do anything about other than groan at Darren’s misfortune, and things are about to get an awful lot worse if your name’s Darren Best.
“It might be…DDT ON THE APRON! Okay, that’s it. Darren is done.
Darren is OUT. The Englishman sits on the apron, motioning at Darren, hinting that Best has nothing left. So far, it’s all going according to plan for Keegan.
“Keegan is in complete control and command and could end this here and now if he wanted,” Lucas firmly believes.
“He could, but he doesn’t want to, and that could be a mistake,” Deltzer warns.
“So, he is messing around then, isn’t he?” Allie’s query goes unanswered.
On that note, the Newcastle native pulls a table from out underneath the ring, causing some cheering among the crowd and many of the masses sit forward in anticipation. Meanwhile, after setting it up, Special K drags Darren up,
LOW BLOW…
…BACKDROP DRIVER THROUGH THE TABLE!!!
“WHERE did that come from?” Lucas wonders.
“I told you it could be a mistake,” Deltzer says, knowingly.
ONE…
TWO…
“All of that work down the drain, and Darren Best is back in it,” Allie chips in after being quiet for quite some time.
THREE…
FOUR…
“Could Best steal this?” Allie asks.
FIVE…
SIX…
“We’re about to find out,” Deltzer replies seeing Darren crawl and drape a hopeful arm across the experienced campaigner’s chest.
ONE…
TWO…
THRE—-NO, SIR!!!
Darren suddenly stands up, and then on Keegan’s hand.
“Keegan has a bad hand, courtesy of Alex Reyn, who broke all of his fingers. But, that makes them even, because he did the same thing to Darren Best,” The Mark comments.
“He broke his head?!” Reece wonders.
“Not quite, but Reyn is responsible for Darren’s concussions, and that’s arguably worse, because how often do you get dropped on your head in wrestling? Darren shouldn’t still be doing this, but it’s a sickness,” The Mark bemoans.
Darren kicks Keegan’s arm and isn’t done yet. He comes out of the ring, pulls a chair roughly from the same place the table was unearthed earlier, and rolls back in.
“You do what you gotta do, sometimes,” Lucas concedes.
WHACK!
WHACK!
WHACK!
“FUCK!”
Best takes Keegan’s arm and slams it into the apron on a trio of occasions, repeated armbreakers, and let’s see if you’ve been paying attention.
“Predictable, huh? I bet they hurt though,” The Mark with a dial back to a previous exchange with the victim on commentary.
“Best rolls Keegan back into the ring – well, it would suit him for the bout to take place in the squared circle, and perhaps it would make a statement for Best to pin Keegan cleanly in the ring,” Quinn claims.
“Oh, for sure,” The Mark confirms.
As Best joins him, Keegan uses his head – literally – to catch Best in the ribs a couple of times, but Darren sits him down with a single-arm DDT, and then picks him back up for a regular DDT, and Darren opts for a cover, chancing his arm. Ahem.
1…
2…
“Keegan showing his toughness,” Quinn comments.
“In fairness, Best, too. He came through a hell of a storm just to be here, and still in the match,” The Mark counteracts.
Best patiently waits for Special K to get to his feet before unleashing a superb SUPERKICK!
Nevertheless, Keegan doesn’t go down. Darren doesn’t need a SECOND invitation to unleash a SECOND SUPERKICK!
One…
Two…
THR-EATENING!
Special K JUST gets a shoulder up. Darren could be on the brink of winning after looking down and out. He sets Special K up for a snap suplex, when all of a sudden, Keegan puts the brakes on, not once, nor twice, but thrice. And remarkably, a counter is on and yes, Take One, action, Keegan reverses it.
Not that he’s content with that, sidling up to Best, not for anything cozy. On the contrary.
Crossface punches.
Half a dozen of the buggers and they’re all mean.
Best is groggy.
Keegan is dominant, and up on his feet again.
“I don’t know how he’s standing, better than he ever did, looking like a true survivor, and making Darren look like a little kid,” The Mark raves.
“Well done, Elton,” Allie claps back.
Best is barely able to stand. He composes himself, looks round for Keegan, who is hurtling towards him like a truck with a running shoulder block that sends Darren straight out of the ring via the middle ropes and down to the floor with a dull thud, hardly helpful towards Darren’s cause, Best a constant victim of concussions and head-related injuries for almost eight years now, and getting no change nor sympathy from Special K here at The Last Laugh.
“What is Keegan doing?” Reece points.
“HEADING TO THE TOP ROPE?!” The Mark replies when he clocks Keegan’s position.
Yes, The Yardstick is, much to everyone’s utter astonishment. He positions himself when, just as remarkably, Darren gets up, realizes where is, jumps up onto the apron, and in one sudden movement…
“DARREN BEST JUST HIT KEEGAN WITH THE BEST NECKBREAKER EVER,” The Mark shouts in excitement, as the crowd erupts and applauds Darren’s daring springboard avalanche neckbreaker BACK into the ring.
One…
“I can’t believe that,” Lucas admits.
Two…
Three…
“He rarely, barely hits that,” The Mark states.
Four…
Five…
“He got all of it there, though, and that could win it for Best, should he be able to execute a cover anytime before New Year’s,” Reece counteracts.
Six…
Seven…
Darren’s up.
Keegan, still shaky, isn’t that far behind. Best swings a right hand. He whips Keegan, who reverses it and when Best arrows back towards him, the British bruiser finds a solution…
SPINEBUSTER!
“Just moments ago, we thought Keegan was definitely done, and now he’s back in control and looking to win it. This sport is amazing,” Lucas laughs.
Darren is flat out on the mat, and The Mark almost rubs his eyes when he realizes that what Keegan is about to do.
“Not only that, Lucas. Because Keegan is going for and is about to get, yes, BEST. SUBMISSION. EVER, oh wait…”
The scorpion armlock is blocked by Best throwing a couple of punches at Keegan’s knee to avert pain and shame. Keegan nurses the left knee for a moment, his stronger leg, which he demonstrates by leaning back off the ropes and KNOCKING BEST THE FUCK OUT with a soccerball kick, more like a penalty kick, which he hit as if he were taking one for England at the World Cup, and Best has stayed hit – CONCUSSION ALERT!
The referee asks Keegan to take a step back, which he does. Keegan should be annoyed, according to our commentators, but such is his confidence and the punishment he wants to inflict.
Best is given the all-clear to continue, and woozy sits up. Keegan waits…and waits…and waits…Best is up on his feet and near the top right-hand corner of the ring…
SPEAR!!!
Or it would have been.
Had Best not sidestepped Keegan, whose momentum carries him through the ropes, out of the ring, and square into the ring post.
“If Darren doesn’t capitalize on this, I’d get his head examined for multiple reasons,” Deltzer insists.
Best takes the chair with him and sits Special K up just to bash his brain in with an unearthly chair shot to the forehead, Darren throwing the chair away in disdain and for dramatic purposes, a huge dent in the furniture, and presumably on Keegan’s face, both reminders of how hellacious that chair shot was.
The gears are moving as Darren contemplates his next move. Best goes up to the apron and comes back down to the arena floor with a MOONSAULT!
1…
2…
…AND A HALF.
OUTSTANDING MOONSAULT!
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”
The Mark’s yell is upon seeing The Yardstick CATCH BEST on the way down, and Special K stands up, still cradling Best as a baby, talk about a deadlift, and Keegan knees Best towards the ribs while doing so, the crowd chanting and cheering as they see this tremendous power display.
Special K sets himself, as the crowd gasp, and Lucas calls the action as it unfolds…
“Keegan with a POWERSLAM ON THE FLOOR, NO HESITATION, NO WASTED MOTION, Darren Best, thanks for coming, Keegan, congratulations…”
ONE…
TWO…
THRE-BEST’S TURN TO KICK OUT!
Barely, but ever so significantly, Darren’s shoulder comes up off the ringside floor. Keegan’s hands are on his hips, shocked at what he has just seen, and he questions the count. Keegan curses to himself again, and then shakes his head.
“He is about to throw his toys out of the pram, and throw Darren Best out with them,” The Mark cheekily calls.
“What more can he do? Darren should have been dead and buried, not literally but you know what I mean, long ago,” Allie asks.
“You don’t know him, Allie,” The Mark tells his colleague.
Keegan takes Best by the head, and then clotheslines him into the front row to the right of where the aisleway ends, and grabs the nearest chair to the barricade once the fans have vacated their places.
He brays Best with the chair over and over, four, five times to the chest, neck, arms and back. Now, it’s the Newcastle native throwing the chair away. He drops down, hooking the leg…
ONE…
TWO…
TH-AT WON’T BE ENOUGH!
“He is running out of ideas,” Allie insists.
“Keegan does look frustrated,” Quinn confesses.
“Which doesn’t bode well for Best at all, guys,” The Mark replies, shaking his head.
“Another powerslam on the way, NO, Best has the presence of mind to slip out, and push Keegan into the barricade….ANOTHER BACKDROP DRIVER, THIS TIME ON THE CONCRETE FLOOR, AND YES, YOU’RE RIGHT FANS, HOLY SUGAR!” Quinn calls.
“Is that what they used to give you at church on Sundays?” Allie, puzzled, asks over the crowd chanting something somewhat similar.
One…
Two…
Three..
An instant replay relays the actions to the fans one more time.
Four…
Five…
Six…
Seven…
“We could have a draw here, and what would that settle?” Reece ponders.
Eight…
“Getting closer to that being a possibility, Allie,” Lucas affirms.
Keegan looks like he has just emerged from a car crash, and Best can barely stand. Both men know that it’s only a matter of time before this bout ends. Keegan is bleeding from the forehead, so it might seem like a silly idea to go for another SPEAR…
Knee by Best catches the Newcastle native squarely on the nose, possibly breaking it for the umpteenth time in the Englishman’s career…
“Oh no, wait a minute,” The Mark whispers, cottoning onto what’s about to happen.
The arms are locked, and Darren is dead set on unleashing hell on Keegan right here, right now…
“IS HE…HE IS, YOU KNOW…”
Yes, he is, lads and lasses…
“BEST OF BOTH INTO THE BARRICADE!!!”
The wrist-clutch exploder, usually reserved for the turnbuckle, has just slammed Special K’s head, neck and back into the unforgiving barricade. The legend’s body goes limp, as Best, breathing out of his ass, can only manage to put his head on Keegan’s chest, almost using it as a pillow, as the audience counts along…
One…
Two…
THREE!!!
“Well, I don’t know what to say,” The Mark says.
“You should look for another job then,” Allie immediately fires back.
“I know what you mean, Mark, a big and brilliant win for Best, by far the most meaningful of his career here in GLOBAL,” Lucas waxes.
“Perhaps ever, Lucas. Darren has lived off potential for a long time, and don’t get me wrong, there are some decent wins on his record, but this right here, is right up there, and it’s the manner of it. He took a hell of a beating, he gave one out in return and it’s Keegan in this environment, added to finally getting one over on Mr. Merchandise a fortnight ago, and while it would be too early to say it’s all systems go, Darren has definitely turned a corner and now has two great wins on the spin,” The Mark praises Best.
Darren gets his arm raised as Jason Brown gives the official word, and now, Darren can afford himself a smile as he goes to check on Keegan, whose lights are on, but nobody’s home.
“Is this a taste of what’s to come at The Last Laugh? A sample of the GLOBAL roster letting it all hang out at the end of the year, which in turn, also coincides with GLOBAL’s first year, and Sean Darring v Jerry David to top it all off at the end of the evening?” Lucas sells.
“It could be. In the here and now, you would have thought if anyone was getting knocked out, coming into and during this fight, it would’ve been Darren Best, so it’s testament to him that Keegan is lying unconscious, and he is the one with his hand in the air,” The Mark compliments the New Yorker.
Darren staggers to his feet, basking in the cheers briefly as Tina’s vocals belt out, proclaiming Darren the best, at least on this night in Los Angeles, though he was definitely forced to work for it, and that’s putting it mildly.
“Hard-fought, not so much hard-thought, for the thinking man’s wrestler, Darren Best, but it proves he’s not as one-dimensional as people may believe,” The Mark mentions.
“Time will tell, and he needs to build on this,” Allie questions.
“A good win, though, Allie?”
“Yes, for sure, especially when I thought Keegan would destroy him, and I’ll admit that he has beaten two very different opponents, but for someone mentioned in higher circles, he needs to be more consistent and prove it on a regular basis. This could be the start of it, the bounce Darren needs,” Reece states.
Darren picks Keegan up and extends his hand. Special K, holding the back of his head, does a double-take and urged by the crowd, accepts the New York grappler’s gesture and the crowd cheers to see the bad blood put to bed, and Keegan raise Darren’s arm in triumph.
“Quite a bit of bitterness built up between these two has just washed away, Keegan blaming Best for the destruction Alex Reyn has inflicted here in GLOBAL and in professional wrestling, period,” Quinn comments.
Special K smiles.
“Make sure you fuckin’ get him this time, Darren,” Keegan tells him, away from the glare of the cameras.
He cradles Best’s cheek.
Darren nods at the Newcastle native.
“You’ve helped me tonight, I needed that fight and coming through this. I’ve always respected you, and people have said it, and I agree…this is the biggest win of my career. Thank you so much,” Darren tells his beaten opponent.
Keegan nods back at him, and then raises Darren’s arm once more, pointing and then applauding before vacating the spotlight as Downtown Brown reads out the official word, and Darren affords himself a wry smile.
Mission accomplished.
Time to work his way to the top, and back to Alex Reyn.
A MESSAGE TO THE RICH FAMILY
Backstage, The Bro stands ready with the microphone, preparing to interview the Prime Time Athletes, Jimmy Classic and Trae Larkin, ahead of their anticipated grudge match against the Rich Family. He is hesitant due to the nature of the disrespect the Prime Time Athletes always bring but asks anyway.
“Prime Time Athletes, Jimmy Classic, Trae Larkin, we’re just moments away from your showdown with the Rich Family. Emotions have been running high. What’s your mindset going into this match?”
Jimmy Classic grins confidently, “Bro, we’re heading into this match with the same mindset we’ve always had – domination. The Rich Family has tested our patience for too long, and tonight, we settle the score once and for all.”
Trae Larkin chimes in, “The past is the past, but tonight, the tables turn. The Prime Time Athletes are here to restore honor and teach the Rich Family a lesson they won’t forget.”
The Bro follows up, “Freddie Rich has made a miraculous recovery last week. How does his presence impact your strategy?”
Jimmy Classic nods, “Freddie’s strength and determination inspire us. His presence fuels our motivation to put an end to the Rich Family’s tyranny. Tonight, we fight for Freddie and for justice.”
Trae Larkin adds, “Freddie’s watching, and we won’t let him down. The Rich Family may think they’re a force to be reckoned with, but tonight, they’ll know the true power of the Prime Time Athletes.”
The Bro shifts gears, “The Rich Family has been a thorn in your side for weeks. What’s your message to them tonight?”
Jimmy Classic smirks, “Rich Family, your reign of chaos ends tonight. The Prime Time Athletes are here to expose your true colors and bring justice to the ring. Get ready for a beatdown you won’t soon forget.”
Trae Larkin interjects, “You thought you could break us, but all you did was awaken the beast. Tonight, the Prime Time Athletes will make sure the Rich Family pays for every transgression.”
As the interview wraps up, The Bro asks, “Any final words for your fans and the Rich Family watching?”
Jimmy Classic raises an eyebrow, “Everybody, get ready for a show; it’s Prime Time! To the Rich Family, your time is up. The Last Laugh belongs to the Prime Time Athletes, and you can do nothing about it.”
Trae Larkin concludes, “Rich Family, the bell is about to ring, and your reckoning begins. Get ready for the beating of a lifetime, courtesy of the Prime Time Athletes.”
PRIME TIME ATHLETES V THE RICH FAMILY
The arena erupts in cheers as the three Rich brothers – Declan, Todd, and Donny – make their grand entrance through the curtains. Decked out for the match, Todd and Declan are geared up, while Donny proudly sports a Rich Family Legacy t-shirt. The trio strolls down the aisle, generously interacting with Global fans by slapping hands along the way.
Lucas Quinn’s voice resonates, “The Rich Family has been embroiled in a relentless battle with the Prime Time Athletes, enduring their games and disrespect for months. They triumphed in the respect match, but tonight marks the end of it all. You can see the determination in their eyes; they are prepared for war.”
The Mark chimes in, “The journey to this match has been a lengthy one. It feels like these teams have been locked in rivalry for years.”
Allie interjects, “In a way, they have. The Prime Time Athletes threw down the gauntlet on the inaugural episode of Domination, sparking a year-long plan to get under the Rich Family’s skin. And now, a year later, we’re here.”
The Rich Family reaches the ring, standing together in the center as they anticipate their adversaries. Declan passionately calls for the Prime Time Athletes to make their entrance while Donny and Todd work to keep him focused on the impending showdown.
The pulsating beats of “Legacy” by Dirty Palm & Benix flood the arena’s PA system, echoing the arrogance, disrespect, and confidence synonymous with the Prime Time Athletes, the reigning Season 1 Tag Team of the Year outsteps “The Suplex Ninja” Trae Larkin, adorned in his classic wrestling singlet, followed by the swaggering entrance of Jimmy Classic.
Lucas Quinn remarks, “If Trae Larkin embodies the attitude of Prime Time, Jimmy Classic is the epitome of arrogance.”
Jimmy Classic removes his sunglasses, basking in the chorus of jeers. The duo proudly hoists their 2023 Best Tag Team trophy, flaunting their success in the faces of detractors.
Allie, with a hint of disdain, comments, “I can’t believe they won that award. There were at least five or six teams more deserving.”
The Mark adds, “Their opponents tonight could easily be among them.”
Undeterred, the Prime Time Athletes strut down the aisle with unwavering swagger, engaging in banter with fans. Meanwhile, inside the ring, Donny and Todd skillfully keep Declan at bay, his frustration visibly simmering.
Lucas Quinn observes, “These guys know how to get under anyone’s skin. I’m not sure if there’s a more polarizing team in Global.”
Allie interjects, “I can answer that, NOPE!”
The Prime Time Athletes reach ringside, proudly raising their 2023 Best Tag Team Trophy, especially taunting the unamused Rich Family. The fans respond with universal thumbs down and, in some cases, the unmistakable one-finger salute.
The Mark snickers saying. “You almost have to admire just how good these guys are at getting people to dislike them.”
Allie corrects him, saying. “Dislike? Try hate.”
Lucas Quinn brings it back full circle. “Referee Shane Staggs has the lofty assignment to try to keep order in the match tonight.”
The Mark sarcastically questions. “Or perhaps to keep order and a riot from happening?”
The Prime Time Athletes, unfazed by the animosity, confidently entered the ring, the trophy still in hand. Trae Larkin shouted taunts at the Rich Family while Jimmy Classic, now wearing a cocky smirk, exchanged words with the referee.
The Rich Family, on the other hand, stood united, their eyes fixed on the duo that had tormented them for months. The referee, aware of the volatile situation, took a moment to ensure order before signaling for the match to begin in earnest.
Trae Larkin and Jimmy Classic, embodying the arrogance that had defined their reign as the Season 1 Tag Team of the Year, met the determined gaze of the Rich Family. The atmosphere was charged, and the crowd eagerly anticipated the clash of these two formidable teams.
Lucas Quinn comments. “Tension from these teams has filled the arena. One wrong move, and it could all explode, guys.”
Allie says. “This is what happens when the Prime Time Athletes are involved. Everyone around them wants to smack that smile off their face.”
DING DING !!!
Lucas Quinn enthusiastically declares, “And the action is underway! Todd Rich and Trae Larkin kick things off for their respective teams, setting the stage for what promises to be an intense match. The energy in the arena is palpable.”
The two athletes engage in a lock-up at the center of the ring, showcasing their strength and determination. Todd, leveraging his power, manages to push Trae back into the ropes. The referee intervenes, calling for a break, but true to form, Trae seizes the opportunity to rake Todd’s eyes, drawing ire from the announcer team.
Lucas Quinn expresses his frustration, “Oh, come on! That’s a classic Prime Time Athletes move, exploiting any opening they can find.”
Allie empathizes, “Todd didn’t anticipate that cheap shot, and now, he’s facing a bit of adversity.”
The Mark chimes in, “This is what makes the Prime Time Athletes so formidable. They’re not just skilled in the ring; they’re masters of psychological warfare.”
With Todd temporarily blinded, Trae tags in Jimmy Classic, and the duo attempts a double suplex. However, the situation takes a turn as Declan Rich storms into the ring, delivering a barrage of quick punches to thwart the Prime Time Athletes’ plans. The crowd roars in approval as Declan fights for justice!
Lucas Quinn cheers, “Declan Rich with the heroic save! He’s not allowing his partner to be double-teamed like that.”
Allie observes, “Unity is the cornerstone of the Rich Family’s strategy. They always have each other’s backs.”
The referee manages to restore order by guiding Declan back to his corner. Seizing the moment, Jimmy Classic exploits the distraction, choking Todd on the ropes. The audience responds with resounding boos as the Prime Time Athletes persist in employing their questionable tactics.
Lucas Quinn, with a touch of wordplay, remarks, “A classic move indeed from the Prime Time Athletes. They’re not interested in a fair and square victory; it’s all about winning at any cost.”
The Mark offers his insight, “The Rich Family needs to weather this storm and find an opening amidst the chaos created by the Prime Time Athletes.”
Jimmy Classic attempts a clothesline on Todd after whipping him into the ropes, but Todd showcases agility by ducking and retaliates with a flying forearm that catches Classic off guard. The fans erupt in cheers, and on the outside, Donny Rich enthusiastically supports the resurgence.
Lucas Quinn comments, “Todd Rich is showing remarkable resilience here. Jimmy Classic may be disliked, but his wrestling skills are undeniable.”
Allie grumbles, “I won’t give that guy any credit.”
Jimmy Classic seizes an opportunity, tripping Todd Rich and ensnaring him in a pair of leg scissors. He adds insult to injury by ripping at Todd’s face, and Referee Shane Staggs counts to five before Classic breaks the hold, punctuating it with a defiant pose that draws jeers from the audience.
The Mark chuckles, “If they had tomatoes, Prime Time Athletes would be dodging them right now.”
Allie adds, “Or batteries.”
Jimmy Classic continues his assault, executing a picture-perfect moonsault on Todd Rich. Shane Staggs counts for the pin.
ONE …
TWO …
Lucas Quinn exclaims, “No, Todd Rich kicks out!”
Classic, undeterred, drags Todd to the corner, tagging in Trae Larkin, known as “The Suplex Ninja.” Larkin enters the ring, firing off kicks on Todd as Classic holds him open. The Prime Time Athletes coordinate for a double-team move, with Trae Larkin setting up a suplex. Classic steps forward, delivering a stiff crescent kick.
THWAP …
Larkin completes the sequence with a suplex, slamming Todd Rich onto his neck and head.
Lucas Quinn observes, “A brutal double team by the Prime Time Athletes, and Todd Rich is in serious trouble early in this match.”
The Mark notes, “Declan is eager to get involved. He’s practically reaching through the ropes.”
Trae Larkin taunts Todd Rich, holding him in a partial chokehold and provoking Declan to intervene. Declan attempts to breach the ropes, but the referee intervenes to maintain order. Larkin intensifies the hold, transitioning it into a full chokehold, exacerbating Declan’s frustration.
Lucas Quinn expresses his dismay, “The Prime Time Athletes are exploiting Declan’s impatience. It’s a psychological game, and they’re playing it well.”
Trae Larkin maintains the chokehold on Todd Rich, showcasing his technical prowess and enjoying the psychological advantage over the frustrated Declan Rich. The Suplex Ninja continues to taunt and mock Declan, goading him to break the rules and interfere. Declan, seething with anger, exchanges heated words with Trae Larkin, amplifying the tension in and out of the ring.
Lucas Quinn observes, “Trae Larkin is not just a skilled athlete; he’s a master at getting into his opponents’ heads. He knows exactly how to push Declan’s buttons.”
Allie adds, “And it’s working. Declan needs to keep his emotions in check, or he’s playing right into the Prime Time Athletes’ hands.”
Trae Larkin continues to exploit the distraction and maintains control over Todd Rich. Larkin executes a series of calculated strikes, focusing on Todd’s midsection and weakening his resilience. The fans, eager for a Rich Family comeback, grow more vocal in their support.
The Mark remarks, “The Rich Family has the crowd firmly behind them, but Trae Larkin is unrelenting. He’s dissecting Todd Rich in there.”
Larkin whips Todd into the ropes and catches him with a spinning heel kick on the return. Todd stumbles and Trae seizes the opportunity to tag in Jimmy Classic. The Prime Time Athletes maintain their seamless teamwork, a testament to their years of partnership.
Lucas Quinn notes, “The continuity between Trae Larkin and Jimmy Classic is undeniable. They know each other’s moves inside out.”
Jimmy Classic enters the ring with a cocky grin, relishing the chance to capitalize on Trae Larkin’s groundwork. The duo executes a combination maneuver, with Classic delivering a scoop slam and Trae following up with a leg drop. The coordination between the Prime Time Athletes is clinical, and Todd Rich is feeling the effects.
Allie sighs, “It’s frustrating to watch the Prime Time Athletes at work. They may be arrogant, but they’re effective.”
The Mark acknowledges, “You can’t deny their skills. But the Rich Family needs a game-changer right now.”
Jimmy Classic drops down and goes for the cover.
ONE …
TWO …
Todd Rich summons the strength to kick out at two, demonstrating resilience amid adversity. The crowd responds with a mixture of cheers and encouraging chants for the Rich Family.
Lucas Quinn shouts, “Todd Rich refuses to stay down! The Rich Family and the Prime Time Athletes are delivering a clinic in tag team action tonight.”
Jimmy Classic, frustrated by Todd’s tenacity, locks in a chinlock, applying pressure on Todd’s neck and exerting further control over the pace of the match. The Rich Family fans intensify their supportive cheers, creating an electric atmosphere in the arena.
The Mark remarks, “Todd Rich is enduring a lot of punishment. He needs to make that crucial tag to Declan soon.”
As Todd Rich struggles within Classic’s grasp, Declan Rich, seething with anticipation on the apron, rallies the crowd behind his brother. The momentum begins to shift as Todd Rich fights out. Elbows ricochet off the body of Jimmy Classic. Todd Rich breaks out and drops Jimmy Classic with a good old-fashioned Texan lariat!
THUD!
Lucas Quinn proclaims. “Todd Rich just knocked the arrogance out of Jimmy Classic! However, the damage has been done, and both men are on the mat now.”
The Mark says. “The fans are going nuts for Declan to get in the ring. If he does, the arena may collapse!”
Jimmy Classic dives and tags in Trae Ninja. He rushes in to stop the Rich Family Momentum. He grabs the ankle of Todd. He looks at Donny Rich on the outside laughing, but Todd Rich uses his other foot to nail Trae Larkin right into the skull with an unexpecting enziguri!
THWAAAAAPPP!!!!
The fans go ballistic as Todd crawls toward his corner, the fans on their feet, urging him to make the tag. Todd Rich digs deep, summoning a reserve of strength after that surprising enziguri. The arena erupts with a thunderous mix of cheers and chants for the Rich Family as Todd inches closer to his corner.
Lucas Quinn exclaims, “Todd Rich is showing incredible resilience! The Prime Time Athletes didn’t see that enziguri coming, and now Todd’s got a chance for the tag!”
As Trae Larkin stumbles back from the unexpected kick, Todd reaches out desperately, the anticipation building in the arena. The fans rise to their feet, collectively urging Todd to make the crucial tag to Declan Rich.
Lucas Quinn shouts, “The atmosphere in here is electric! The Rich Family fans are on the edge of their seats!”
With a burst of determination, Todd manages to slap Declan’s outstretched hand. The crowd explodes into cheers as Declan, fueled by adrenaline, storms into the ring. The Prime Time Athletes look momentarily stunned as Declan unleashes a barrage of powerful strikes, taking control of the match.
The Mark exclaims, “Here comes Declan! The Rich Family’s powerhouse is clearing house!”
Declan Rich delivers a series of thunderous clotheslines, knocking Trae Larkin out of the ring. Jimmy Classic attempts to intervene, but Declan counters with a spinebuster that shakes the ring. The fans are roaring their approval.
Lucas Quinn declares, “Declan Rich is a force to be reckoned with! The Prime Time Athletes didn’t see this onslaught coming.”
As Trae Larkin regroups on the outside, Declan turns his attention to Jimmy Classic, who is staggering to his feet. Declan hoists Classic onto his shoulders.
Allie excitedly says. “Shut these balloons up, Declan!”
Declan Rich, with Jimmy Classic draped across his shoulders, stands tall in the center of the ring. The crowd, electrified by the Rich Family’s resurgence, erupts into cheers as Declan showcases his dominance. Sensing an opportunity, Todd Rich recovers on the apron, ready to rejoin the fray.
Lucas Quinn shouts, “Declan Rich is in control and the Prime Time Athletes are reeling! This match has turned into an all-out war between these two teams!”
The Mark adds, “The Rich Family is showing why they’ve been fan favorites. The Prime Time Athletes are finding out that you can’t underestimate the unity of blood.”
Declan executes a thunderous running powerbomb, slamming Jimmy Classic to the canvas with authority. The impact reverberates through the ring, and Declan goes for the cover.
ONE…
TWO…
Kickout!
Lucas Quinn exclaims, “Jimmy Classic kicks out! The resilience of the Prime Time Athletes is on full display.”
Undeterred, Declan maintains the pressure. He pulls Jimmy Classic back to his feet, sending him into the ropes. On the rebound, Declan catches Classic with a thunderous spinebuster, eliciting another round of cheers from the audience.
The Mark comments, “Declan is letting out all that rage! The Prime Time Athletes are struggling to find an answer to this onslaught.”
Declan, feeding off the energy of the crowd, signals for the end. He sets Jimmy Classic up for the Filthy Rich, a signature move that has spelled defeat for many opponents.
Lucas Quinn shouts, “Declan Rich is looking to put this one away! If he hits the Filthy Rich, it could be lights out for the Prime Time Athletes!”
As Declan lifts Jimmy Classic into position, Trae Larkin, recovering on the outside, attempts to intervene. However, Todd Rich intercepts Trae with a lightning-quick clothesline, sending him sprawling to the arena floor.
Allie remarks, “The Rich Family is not letting the Prime Time Athletes play any tricks. They’re here for a fight!”
In the ring, Declan readies himself for another attempt at the Filthy Rich. But just as he’s about to execute the move, Jimmy Classic manages to slip out of Declan’s grasp. Classic desperately tags in Trae Larkin, who enters the ring with a burst of speed and rage of his own.
Lucas Quinn notes, “The Prime Time Athletes narrowly avoided disaster there. But now Trae Larkin is back in, and he’s looking to turn the tide.”
Trae charges at Declan, attempting a quick strike, but Declan counters with a heel kick that sends Trae spinning. Declan goes for another cover.
ONE…
TWO…
Thr—kickout!
The Mark observes, “Trae Larkin manages to kick out! The Prime Time Athletes are hanging on by a thread. Declan has turned this match completely upside down.”
Allie adds. “Todd Rich has now recovered on the outside and is cheering his partner on!”
As Trae struggles to get back on his feet, Declan keeps the pressure on. He whips Trae into the corner, following up with a charging clothesline. The impact is enough to make Trae slump in the corner, dazed and vulnerable.
Lucas Quinn shouts, “The Rich Family is relentless! They’re not giving the Prime Time Athletes any room to breathe.”
Declan, with precision and determination, hoists Trae onto the top turnbuckle, signaling for a superplex. The crowd roars in anticipation as Declan prepares to unleash a high-impact maneuver that could further shift the momentum in favor of the Rich Family.
The Mark exclaims, “If Declan hits this superplex, it could be game over for Trae Larkin and the Prime Time Athletes!”
Declan begins the ascent, but Trae desperately fights back, delivering elbows to Declan’s head. With each strike, the tension in the arena grows, and the fans are on the edge of their seats, unsure of who will gain the upper hand. As Declan Rich attempts to execute the superplex, Trae Larkin fights back with a series of well-placed elbows to the side of Declan’s head. The two wrestlers find themselves in a precarious position on the top turnbuckle, teetering on the brink of disaster. The crowd holds its collective breath, witnessing the intense struggle between the powerhouse Declan and the agile Trae.
Lucas Quinn shouts, “Trae Larkin is fighting for his life up there! He knows that superplex could be the end.”
With a burst of agility, Trae manages to slip out of Declan’s grasp. He lands on the apron, narrowly avoiding the potential devastation of the superplex. Declan, realizing the reversal, regroups inside the ring, ready for the next exchange.
The Mark comments, “Trae Larkin showing his resilience and ring awareness. The Prime Time Athletes are crafty, and they’re not going down without a fight.”
Seizing the moment, Trae springboards off the top rope, catching Declan with a missile dropkick that sends the big man staggering. The arena comes alive with a mix of cheers and jeers as Trae gains a crucial advantage.
Allie remarks, “Trae Larkin is using that high-flying style to turn the tables. The Prime Time Athletes are proving why they’re a force to be reckoned with.”
Trae quickly tags in Jimmy Classic, and the Prime Time Athletes begin a well-coordinated assault on Declan Rich. Classic focuses on Declan’s legs, trying to chop down the fresh and neutralize his strength of agility and speed.
Lucas Quinn observes, “The Prime Time Athletes showing their tag team expertise. They know how to isolate their opponent and dismantle them piece by piece.”
The Mark adds, “They’re trying to take Declan off his feet. Without his speed and agility, the Rich Family might be in trouble.”
Jimmy Classic locks in a figure-four leglock, putting immense pressure on Declan’s legs. The referee checks on Declan, who grits his teeth, enduring the pain while reaching for the ropes. The crowd rallies behind Declan, urging him to break free.
Lucas Quinn exclaims, “Declan Rich is in a world of hurt right now! The Prime Time Athletes are targeting those legs with surgical precision.”
In a display of sheer determination and probably hatred, Declan manages to power out of the figure-four leglock, causing Jimmy Classic to release the hold. The momentum swings back in Declan’s favor, and he now needs to make a tag to Todd Rich.
The Mark says, “Declan survived that submission, but he’s got to get to Todd for the freshman advantage.”
As Declan crawls toward his corner, Jimmy Classic tags in Trae Larkin. The Prime Time Athletes, sensing an opportunity, cut off Declan from making the crucial tag. Trae delivers a swift kick to Declan’s ribs, further sending a message.
Allie comments, “The Prime Time Athletes are not giving Declan a moment’s rest. They’re relentless in their attack.”
With Declan still struggling to reach his corner, Trae and Jimmy execute a double-team suplex, slamming Declan to the mat. The referee admonishes them, but the damage is done. The Prime Time Athletes continue to showcase their tag team prowess.
Lucas Quinn says, “The Rich Family is in a tough spot right now. Declan needs to make that tag, or the Prime Time Athletes might walk away with this one.”
As Trae Larkin goes for the cover, the anticipation builds.
ONE…
TWO…
Thr—kickout!
The atmosphere in the arena is charged as Declan Rich kicks out, demonstrating his resilience and determination to the delight of the crowd. Despite Trae Larkin’s frustrated expression, he signals for the end, opting for his devastating finisher—the Ninja Nuke.
Lucas Quinn, expressing concern, remarks, “Trae Larkin seems determined to put an end to this. If he connects with the Ninja Nuke, we might have to endure the Prime Time Athletes’ bragging for months.”
As Trae prepares to execute the Ninja Nuke, he lifts Declan Rich into position. However, Declan counters with a sudden small package.
ONE …
TWO …
THR —
Trae Larkin defiantly kicks out, avoiding the near fall. Unfazed, he charges at Declan, but Rich surprises him with a lightning-fast Springboard Roundhouse Kick. The crowd roars in approval as Declan seizes the opportunity and makes a quick tag to Todd Rich, who storms into the ring.
The Mark comments, “Declan Rich with the quick counter, and now Todd Rich is entering the fray. The Rich Family is turning the tide!”
Allie adds, “It’s payback time for Todd Rich, and I’m here for every moment of it!”
Todd Rich, fueled by the desire for revenge, executes a powerful suplex on Trae Larkin, slamming him to the mat with a resounding thud.
THUUUUUUUUUUUD!
Lucas Quinn notes, “Todd Rich is dishing out some payback of his own. The Rich Family is on fire!”
With Trae Larkin dazed, Todd Rich roars with intensity and pulls him up to an elevated position. In a display of strength, Todd locks in a dragon sleeper, applying pressure and looking to put Trae Larkin to sleep.
Lucas Quinn questions, “Is this the end for Trae Larkin? Todd Rich is determined to make him submit with that dragon sleeper!”
With Trae Larkin trapped in Todd Rich’s dragon sleeper, the situation looks dire for the Prime Time Athlete. Sensing the urgency, Jimmy Classic rushes into the ring to save his partner from potential submission.
Lucas Quinn exclaims, “Here comes Jimmy Classic! He’s not going to let his partner tap out.”
Jimmy Classic unleashes a flurry of well-placed kicks, forcing Todd Rich to release the dragon sleeper. The referee struggles to restore order, admonishing Jimmy Classic to return to his corner. Meanwhile, Trae Larkin takes advantage of the chaos, rolling out of the ring to catch his breath.
Allie observes, “Classic with the timely save. The Prime Time Athletes are masters at turning the tide in their favor.”
The Mark adds, “The referee has his hands full trying to control this match. It’s breaking down fast.”
As the official attempts to regain control, Todd Rich and Jimmy Classic engage in a heated staredown. The tension in the arena reached a boiling point as both teams were itching to resume the action. Suddenly, Declan Rich enters the fray, and a two-on-two showdown ensues.
Lucas Quinn shouts, “Declan Rich is in, and we’ve got chaos in the ring! It’s a two-on-two brawl!”
Declan and Todd Rich unleash a barrage of coordinated attacks on the Prime Time Athletes. The crowd is on its feet, erupting in cheers for the Rich Family’s comeback. Declan throws Jimmy Classic into the corner, while Todd focuses on Trae Larkin, who reenters the ring.
The Mark comments, “The Rich Family is taking control! It’s pandemonium in the ring, and the fans are loving it!”
Allie adds, “This is payback for all the cheap shots and mind games. The Rich Family is delivering justice!”
As the chaos ensues, the referee struggles to restore order, attempting to separate the dueling pairs. However, the animosity between the two teams intensifies, leading to a wild exchange of blows and high-impact moves.
Lucas Quinn observes, “The ref is losing control here. It’s an all-out war between these two teams!”
The Mark remarks, “This match has reached a fever pitch. It’s anyone’s game now!”
Amidst the escalating chaos in the ring, the Rich Family seizes a fleeting moment of control. Todd Rich executes a thunderous spinebuster on Trae Larkin, causing the entire ring to tremble. Simultaneously, Declan Rich sends Jimmy Classic to the outside ring apron with a well-aimed triangle dropkick, subsequently propelling him to the outside. The crowd erupts in cheers as the Rich Family stands on the brink of victory.
Lucas Quinn enthusiastically exclaims, “The Rich Family is taking command! The Prime Time Athletes are left reeling!”
Allie interjects, “This is payback for all those cheap shots. The Rich Family is demonstrating how it’s done!”
As Todd goes for the cover on Trae Larkin, the anticipation among the crowd intensifies for a potential victory. The referee drops down for the count.
ONE…
TWO…
THR—
Abruptly, Jimmy Classic, recovering on the outside, intervenes by pulling Todd out of the ring, disrupting the pinfall. The referee sternly admonishes Classic, attempting to restore order to the tumultuous match.
The Mark observes, “Classic with the save! The Prime Time Athletes are refusing to go down without a fight.”
While Declan and Jimmy Classic engage in a brawl on the outside, the battle between Todd and Trae resumes inside the ring. Todd gains the upper hand with a barrage of powerful strikes, setting the stage for a potential finishing move.
In a momentary diversion, Declan Rich considers grabbing a chair and signals towards the vulnerable Jimmy Classic. However, Donny intervenes, preventing Declan from resorting to such tactics.
Lucas Quinn notes, “Looks like Donny Rich doesn’t want Declan to use the chair. He’s steering clear of stooping to their level.”
The Mark comments, “I’m not sure about that decision. Sometimes, you have to fight fire with fire.”
As Declan turns away, Jimmy Classic seizes the opportunity, shoving him forward into Donny Rich and causing a collision of heads. Classic then seizes a chair and ruthlessly smashes it into Declan Rich on the outside.
CRASH!
Expressing frustration, Allie exclaims, “This is precisely why he should have finished off Jimmy Classic when he had the chance!”
Meanwhile, inside the ring, Todd Rich maintains control over Trae Larkin, executing a slingshot belly-to-back suplex.
THUD!
Lucas Quinn shouts, “Todd Rich is dominating! The Rich Family is on the cusp of a monumental victory!”
ONE…
TWO…
THR—
A collective sigh of disappointment ripples through the crowd as Trae Larkin defiantly shoots a shoulder up, narrowly avoiding defeat. Undeterred, Todd signals for his finishing move—the Strike it Rich!
The Mark observes, “Todd is looking to seal the deal with the Cradle DDT. He’s ready to finish Trae Larkin!”
However, the tide abruptly turns. As Todd prepares for the move, setting up Trae Larkin, Jimmy Classic seizes the opportunity on the outside, wielding the Tag Team of the Year trophy.
Allie exclaims, “Hold on! What’s Classic doing with the trophy?”
With a sly grin, Classic reenters the ring while the referee is preoccupied with the chaos on the outside. As Declan lies incapacitated and Donny attempts to draw attention to the mangled chair, Classic waits for the opportune moment. Just as Todd is about to execute his move, Classic ruthlessly smashes him in the back with the trophy.
THWACK!
Lucas Quinn expresses disbelief, “Oh, come on! Classic just turned the trophy into a weapon!”
The Mark comments, “That’s a blatant low blow! The referee needs to catch this!”
While Todd is momentarily stunned, Trae Larkin seizes the opportunity. Shaking off the cobwebs, he delivers a fisherman suplex!
Lucas Quinn shouts, “A Fisherman Suplex by the Suplex Ninja! Trae Larkin with the cover!”
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The referee counts to three, and the Prime Time Athletes claim victory through a combination of cheating and underhanded tactics.
Allie groans, “I can’t believe it! The Prime Time Athletes manage to steal the win.”
The Mark adds, “That trophy just became a tool of deception. The Rich Family had this match won.”
The Prime Time Athletes jubilantly celebrate their controversial victory in the center of the ring, hugging each other as the fans shower them with boos. Despite Donny Rich’s objections to the referee, the match concludes, marking the Prime Time Athletes’ long-awaited triumph over the Rich Family.
As the Prime Time Athletes revel in their controversial victory, the arena pulses with a mix of boos and disapproval from disgruntled fans. The announcers express their frustration and disappointment with the outcome.
Lucas Quinn begrudgingly remarks, “Well, folks, it’s official. The Prime Time Athletes have claimed a tainted victory over the Rich Family. I can’t say I’m thrilled about how this match concluded.”
Allie adds with a hint of annoyance, “It’s disappointing, Lucas. The Rich Family had the match won fair and square, but Classic’s underhanded tactics with that trophy turned the tide.”
The Mark chimes in, “This isn’t the way we wanted to see this rivalry play out. The Rich Family deserved a clean victory, but the Prime Time Athletes had other plans.”
Meanwhile, in the ring, Trae Larkin and Jimmy Classic continue their celebration, raising each other’s arms in triumph. The Tag Team of the Year trophy, now tarnished by its role in the match, is held high as a symbol of their cunning tactics.
Lucas Quinn expresses his frustration, “I can’t condone this, Allie. The Prime Time Athletes resorted to cheating to secure the win. It’s not the kind of victory that should be celebrated.”
Allie agrees, “Absolutely, Lucas. This tarnishes what could have been a defining moment for the Rich Family. They had the Prime Time Athletes on the ropes.”
As Trae Larkin taunts the fans, Donny Rich approaches the referee, vehemently arguing about the blatant use of the trophy. The official tries to explain the chaotic nature of the match, but Donny’s frustration is palpable.
The Mark comments, “Donny Rich has every right to be upset. The referee had his hands full, and the Prime Time Athletes exploited the situation.”
Lucas Quinn concludes, “Well, Global Nation, it’s been a rollercoaster of a match and not the ending we hoped for. The Prime Time Athletes may be celebrating, but the stain of their victory will linger.”
As the Prime Time Athletes continue their celebration, the disappointment among the fans and announcers lingers, setting the stage for what promises to be a contentious chapter in the ongoing saga between these two rival teams.
AN EMBARRASSMENT OF RICHES - NO, JUST AN EMBARRASSMENT
Moments later.
Declan Rich is the first to rush through the curtain, hands on hips, dejected, and shaking his head profusely. He looks to be on the verge of tears. His sister, Samantha, kitted out in all-black dress, is the first to greet him, but Declan is inconsolable.
“EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. We get this CLOSE,” he places his thumb and index finger together.
Frank tries to come over, but Declan brushes him off, and storms off.
“Leave him, Dad,” Freddie says, approaching on crutches.
“He’s not a leader, anyway,” Freddie laments.
Declan turns on his heels, and pushes Freddie off his crutches and onto the floor.
“What the fuck did you say? We had the same problems when you were captain of the ship, and don’t you forget it,” Declan points at a startled Freddie as Todd restrains Declan while Frank and Donny pull Freddie up to his feet, Samantha fetching her elder brother’s crutches for him.
“I’ll give you it this one time, Dec, but you try that again, and I’ll give you a reminder of your childhood,” Freddie boasts.
Declan waves him off, clearly incensed at another must-win match ending up in YET another decisive defeat for The Rich Family.
ASSIGNMENT ORDERS
The atmosphere in the old abandoned locker room deep in the bowels of the GLOBE would already be understandably tense even without the presence of the leader of the ragtag band of misfits who currently call it their home away from home. Where normally there would at least have been some joking attempts at lightening the mood, there is now only breathless silence, as the muscular, dark-haired woman in black denim and leather slowly paces back and forth across the cramped, musty room, her eyes bearing a hole into each of the six men stood opposite her in turn.
“I don’t need to tell you maggots what will happen if you embarrass me out there tonight…do I?”
“MA’AM, NO, MA’AM!” Three voices ring out loud and clear, bouncing and echoing off the tiled walls, while the other three men silently give signs of acknowledgment; the woman, however, does not so much as bat an eye as she continues her growled address.
“Good. And I’m going to assume I don’t need to go over the gameplan again, either…?”
“MA’AM, NO, MA’AM!”
This time, however, the woman appears more skeptical, and calls on one of her recruits, the tall, girthy, scowling man at one end of the line.
“Dann!”
“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am!” Steve Dann stands even straighter at attention as his superior addresses him again.
“Run these maggots through the tactical detail.”
Dann snaps off a quick salute. “Ma’am! Neutralize the male perps and isolate the female, Ma’am!”
This time, the shadow of a sadistic smirk does broach the woman’s features.
“And after that…?”
Once again, the response comes almost immediately. “Ma’am, incapacitate with extreme prejudice, Ma’am!”
The woman’s eyes narrow ever-so-slightly, a glint briefly lighting them up. Even then, however, neither the man called Dann nor any of his companions get any sort of praise, the woman simply casting her eyes over the group before singling out another one of its members.
“Public…you’re up first, so your squadmates won’t have to babysit you.” She glares at the man in question, an unremarkable specimen in every way. “And DON’T embarrass me. Or ELSE.”
The man in question visibly goes weak at the knees, but manages to stammer out an acknowledgment, which the group leader barely appears to hear, let alone register, as she once again addresses the group as a whole, glaring daggers at each member in turn.
“You maggots have your assignment orders. Don’t fuck them up.”
Then, as the men once again acknowledge her as one, she begins to stride out of the room, only to turn back on the last step for one final remark.
“Oh, and I picked you maggots an entrance theme. Not that any of you pathetic losers DESERVED it yet.”
With that, the woman finally makes her exit, leaving her six recruits absolutely bursting to break ranks, but not daring to, lest their commanding officer still be close enough to hear them. Even still, the mood in the room has clearly changed, the previous tense atmosphere replaced with a new kind of nervous energy, as each of the men within side-eyes the others, all the while anticipating his first Pay-Per-View outing in a good, long while.
6-oN-6 ELIMINATION TAG TEAM MATCH: UNITED ANGEL EXPRESS v
S. I. M. P.
The GLOBAL feed returns to the ringside area just as an unfamiliar theme song begins to emit from the speakers. Predictably, Pantera’s “Cowboys From Hell” initially elicits no reaction from the crowd in attendance, who only begin to voice their displeasure when a large group of people appears through the entrance curtain and begin to make their way down towards ringside, while being loudly introduced by a masked hypeman, whose live microphone somehow manages to be heard over Dimebag Darrell’s meaty riffage.
“Lamers and genitals…introducing…at a combined weight of HOLY CRAP, BATMAN! #OnePunchDann, the man with the plan! Flanagan, who hits you ‘cause he can! Thing One, whose chill is gone! Thing Two, who’s gonna hurt you! Joe Public, ain’t no rhyme for Public! AAAAAND yours truly…the guardian of lost souls…the powerful…the pleasurable…the indestructible #MarksMan!”
“These men have certainly been feeling themselves since coming together as a team…”
“…and so has everyone else in GLOBAL! Know what I’m saying?”
“That wasn’t funny, Mark, and you should feel ashamed. These guys are no laughing matter. They need to be stopped. And I’m hoping Angel Ramirez, Team United and the LA Express are the ones who get The Last Laugh here tonight!”
“Check you getting all corporate brandname-y, Al! Don’t tell me they’re paying you extra…”
“They’re not paying me extra, Mark. I just know how to do my job. Unlike you.”
As Allie Reece cannot resist a particularly sharp barb towards her broadcasting peer, the six men being discussed have made their way into the ring, where they all stand somewhat awkwardly, not entirely sure how to react – all, that is, except the self-professed #MarksMan, who gets up on the turnbuckles on each corner and mugs to the crowd as if this was his last chance to do so.
“Not used to coming out first, are you, boys? Not LATELY, anyway…”
“Do you think somebody forced them to come out first, so they wouldn’t get up to their usual antics?”
“If that was the case, give whoever had that idea a raise!”
“Actually…I just did. Hey, Mr. G., you heard the girl! How ‘bout a raise? Or, hey, I’ll settle for a Christmas bonus!”
“Settle DOWN, Mark.”
Quinn’s admonishment comes at the exact moment when the crowd’s reaction switches from jeers to cheers, as “So Rough, So Tough In LA” heralds the arrival of the men’s opponents for the evening, the collective made up of Angel “The Kid” Ramirez, the tag team known as the LA Express, and the trio named Team United – or, as “Downtown” Jason Brown announces them…
“Their opponents…the UNITED ANGEL EXPRESS!!”
“Oh my gosh, that’s SO cute! What a GREAT name for this team!”
“Hey, Allie, your Valley girl is showing…”
“You ever met a Valley girl who could thump you, Mark?”
As the cutest couple in GLOBAL (RIP #AmberButton) continue to bicker at the announce table, the six men already in the ring have slid out onto the floor, and engaged in a staredown with the five men and one woman standing a few feet away. To their credit, Angel and her crew give as good as they are getting, and a long, tense moment ensues…
…after which the two teams lunge at one another, immediately engaging in an all-out brawl!
“Well, we were supposed to have an elimination tag match tonight, but it appears the participants have other ideas…!”
“An elimination tag is not enough to contain all the feelings these twelve men and women have for one another, after having clashed so many times in recent weeks…”
“Not to mention the fact that these guys have it out for Angel Ramirez, for reasons I have yet to fully understand…”
“It’s all that woman Miranda Wright’s doing. She’s putting them up to all this. I’ve known half these guys for a while, and they’re not bad people. Steve Dann has a temper, sure…and Chett Marx is a little overbearing sometimes…and Public is extremely susceptible…but…”
Lucas Quinn begins to falter in his train of thought, and Deltzer immediately picks up on the reason why.
“So what you’re saying is…they ARE bad people…”
Knowing he has failed to put his point across, Quinn compromises. “…all right, they have their flaws. But I don’t think they’d be capable of something like this on their own. That Wright woman somehow got in their heads, and is making them do her bidding.”
“She’s not here TONIGHT, though…and they’re still going after these kids…”
“Well, they likely know what will happen if they don’t…”
“…yeah, good point.”
As Deltzer extends his broadcast partner an olive branch, at ringside, the heated brawl continues to escalate, with both sides remaining relatively even. The United Angel Express are using their quickness to evade and counter their slower opponents’ attacks, but Steve Dann and Flanagan, in particular, are dealing substantial damage whenever they manage to connect with one of their rivals. One punch by Dann, in particular, sends young Gage hurtling towards the ringside steps, with the youth managing to halt himself just in time to prevent hitting them; unfortunately for him, he then gets rammed into by the burly Irishman, who spears him into the steps so hard he dislodges them!
“HOLY SMOKES! GAGE JUST GOT SPEARED OUT OF HIS SHOES!!”
The crowd audibly gasp as the youngster goes down, but Flanagan remains as stoic as ever, simply laying the boot to the youngster until he is surprised from behind by Gage’s partner, Trevor, who smashes down on him with a leaping double-ax handle. It takes another one to take the Irishman down, but Trevor can capitalize, he is himself falling subject to the very same move, as a livid Chett Marx rants and raves at him.
“NO ONE DROPS THE BANHAMMER BUT ME! YOU’VE JUST BEEN PERMABANNED, YOU LAMER TROLL!”
He then begins to put the boot to Trevor, at the same time as the quickly recovered Flanagan does the same to Gage. Unfortunately, with both men focusing on the boys from the LA Express, Steve Dann is left with very little cover for his remarkably slow reaction time, and finds himself swarmed by aerial attacks from the notable high-flyers in the opposing team. Angel Ramirez, in particular, is remarkably in her element, her parkour skills in full display as she bounces like a pinball off every even slightly elevated surface, landing repeated air strikes on the hapless One Punch Dann, as her Team United allies keep the remainder of Miranda Wright’s forces at bay. Flyin’ Ryan Ansell has, predictably, managed to get the best of Joe Public, whom he has taken down through a rapid succession of aerial moves, while Ant Rushton and Ade Flowers are fighting each of the two Salamanders, with Rushton taking on One while Flowers deals with Two.
“Things continue to break down here, and I very much doubt we will be getting any match between these teams here tonight…”
As Quinn makes his thoughts known, the situation once again swings around in favor of Wright’s troop when, having laid out both of the LA Express members, Chett Marx and Flanagan return to help their squadmates, once again giving their group the numbers advantage. And while Ansell is able to take on Marx, Flanagan engages Rushton, leaving both Salamanders to tag team Flowers two-on-one. To his credit, the Team United member holds his own, even managing to duck a poison gas attack from Salamander One and make him spit the black goo in his partner’s face, before laying each of them out with rapid-fire spinning heel kicks, getting himself out of a difficult situation and freeing himself up to help Ant Rushton fend off the powerhouse Irish brawler.
“Ade Flowers has just laid out both Salamanders by himself!”
“The numbers are now more even, with three wrestlers apiece still standing…so I guess this still sort of counts as an elimination tag team match…just an unofficial one.”
“And now CHETT MARX!!”
Indeed, the man with the blue checkmark has just managed to lay out Flyin’ Ryan and Break Da Internet, and wastes no time jumping in to help Flanagan with his two-on-one handicap. The two halves of Team United therefore find themselves separated once again, with Flowers drawn in by Marx while the increasingly weary Rushton once again finds himself one-on-one with the seemingly tireless Flanagan. To his credit, the Team United member underdog continues to fight valiantly as the Irishman smashes him against the nearby barricades either side of the entryway and delivers endless clubbing wear-down blows; his resistance falters, however, when Flanagan hoists him onto his back, then delivers a backpack stunner onto one of the steel structures, which comes crashing down from the weight!
“BACKPACK STUNNER ONTO THE BARRICADE FROM FLANAGAN!”
“Goodnight, sweet prince!”
That is, indeed, the end of the fight for Ant Rushton, at roughly the same time as, a few feet to the left, Ade Flowers manages to connect with a spinning heel kick to Chett Marx, knocking him out cold – only to be grabbed from behind by Flanagan, and put into position for a backpack stunner of his own.
“Flanagan looking for a second backpack st—NO!!! ANGEL RAMIREZ!!!”
The crowd explode as the young prodigy – who, up until now, had had her hands full trying to wear down Steve Dann – launches onto the Irish brawler with a big dive, causing him to involuntarily release Ade Flowers and knocking him to the ground. She leans in to slap hands with her Team United associate…
…whose eyes widen as he yells for Angel to move!!
Reacting instinctively, the teenage fan-favorite ducks and rolls out of harm’s way – but, in doing so, causes her team-mate’s undoing, as he catches the brunt of the punch Steve Dann was aiming at the back of Angel’s head!! Such is the force of the blow that the Team United member goes flying back a couple of feet, landing atop his partner by the fallen barricade, totally out cold.
“Ade Flowers just put his body on the line to save Angel, much as she had done for him!!”
“That’s what you do in a team, Lucas – you have your people’s back!”
“Angel is not happy with herself right now, though…”
Indeed, seeing what she has caused has Angel distraught, her eyes wide in horror and her cheeks flushed in a mix of embarrassment and anger. Still, these conflicting feelings spurn the young Latina on, as, with a primeval cry, she jumps on Steve Dann’s back and begins to land clubbing blows to his neck and shoulders!
“Angel Ramirez now trying to even the playing field as much as possible, as she finds herself alone against the two largest members of the opposing side…”
“She has to use her street smarts here. Explore her strenghts, and her opponents’ weaknesses. This is definitely an uphill battle for her, but I believe she’s got what it takes to at least hold her own here.”
“We’ll see about that, as now FLANAGAN!”
Indeed, the Irishman has just reached in and effortlessly plucked the youngster from Steve Dann’s back; Angel, however, somehow manages to push herself off the big man, and topple backwards on top of her opponent, simultaneously sending him to the ground and breaking her own fall.
“Innovative evasion tactic from Ramirez, who is still fighting even against all odds…!”
“See? That’s what I meant. That survival instinct. That’s what’s going to save Angel here.”
This latest display of street survival skills has managed to rally the fans even further behind Angel, and the Globe comes alive with deafening chants and cheers of support for the young Latina, as she struggles against her two much larger and more experienced opponents. Unsurprisingly, the next few moments are spent using her quickness to evade, stick and move, her focus alternating between the two men as she takes turns hitting each of them, the better to keep them at bay.
This strategy works remarkably well for her, and the volume and pitch inside the Globe both rise, as fans begin to believe in a miracle. Angel, too, is clearly feeling herself, and decides to take things one step further, leaping onto the nearest barricade (that is still standing, at any rate) and taking off with her Angel’s Flight crossbody, aimed straight at Flanagan…
…only for him to catch her and throw her back up into the air, as Steve Dann steps in with a knockout punch to the head!!
“NO!!!”
“ANGEL!!!”
The crowd’s effusive cheering suddenly subsides into an eerie, horrified silence as the youngster hits the concrete, seemingly in slow motion, then lies there, unconscious, her brave and fearless participation in the brawl finally over.
“Is…is she…?”
“We…have no way of knowing, unfortunately, Allie. That was quite the blow she took…and to the head, as well…”
“Somebody p-please g-get the EMTs down here…”
As a choked-up Allie Reece does her best not to cry, and the usually talkative Mark Deltzer is stunned into silence, the two survivors of Miranda Wright’s squad slap hands in acknowledgment of a job well-done – a gesture which, while simple, earns them the hatred of the entirety of the Globe. Deafening boos begin to rain down from every corner of the arena, which both men are forced to fend off for a long moment, before a disembodied voice cuts through the noise, giving the fans a new target for their hatred…
ONE LAST MESSAGE FOR JERRY DAVID
Backstage, Sean Darring is not just preparing for the main event or the Global Heavyweight Championship match; he’s slowly lacing his boots, gearing up for an absolute personal war. His eyes gaze through his actions, intensely focused on the task at hand. Unusually expressionless, the champion has returned to a place he’s avoided for nearly a decade.
“Jerry David, our time is almost near. In this business, you always expect the unexpected. I’ve accepted that, at times, business becomes personal. And every so often, things become so personal that everything else around it takes a back seat.”
The legend continues to speak in a serious low tone, still focused on lacing his boots.
“I’ve laced these boots thousands of times, spent night after night in the main event. It’s always an honor to be involved in a championship match, but tonight, none of that matters. For one night only, all of that takes a back seat. When that bell rings, and we are surrounded by steel, it will be about who can hurt one another more, who can make who bleed the most, who will break last.”
Those words bring a small smile to the legend. For the first time in a long time, we see a little happiness in the champion, but it’s quickly erased as he continues speaking.
“Tonight, there will be no rules, no mercy, no forgiveness. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a war like this. Some will call it justice, but the hard truth is it’s cold, unforgiving revenge.”
The legend pauses, letting those words sink in.
“In just a short time, it will all be over. Only one of us will survive. The EMTs are standing by. I go out night after night, knowing it could be my final match. Do you? Your addiction to the limelight, your need for that laugh, your dreams of relevance could all come crashing down tonight.”
The legend finishes lacing his boots.
“That is what drives me tonight. The thought that tonight could be Jerry David’s last laugh.”
ALFIE BUTTON V VALORIE VITALITY
“Some insight to share, Mark?” Quinn enquires.
“This match has come about, according to a secret source, due to some backstage chats and tension between these two, Valorie mocking Alfie on multiple occasions,” Deltzer explains.
“So, Alfie or Darren told you,” Allie sarcastically replies.
“She’s got you there, Mark,” Lucas laughs.
“Cat’s out of the bag,” Allie replies.
Deltzer shakes his head.
“Well, we know you’re close to both of them, and you’re not denying it, but thanks for the information,” Lucas mentions.
“It’s nice to see him quiet,” Allie believes.
“Let’s change that: What type of match do you expect to see, Mark?” Quinn questions Deltzer.
“You two. Anyway, a fast-paced, dynamic affair, and the thing is, I believe this at least, fans see them as high-flyers AND strikers whereas I see Alfie as the clear-cut highflyer and Valorie is so much more of a striker and an all-rounder, but she hasn’t has faced as many, if any, as quick as Alfie,” The Mark tells the viewers at home.
Let Me Entertain You.
A cheer goes up, but an even bigger one trumps it when Alfie appears, and he suddenly sprints towards the squared circle, slides underneath the bottom rope, and then stands on the bottom right-hand set of ropes before performing a picture-perfect backflip.
“He looks ready – we’ll find out if he really is,” Allie asserts.
“Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” by A Perfect Circle plays, and the no-nonsense Valorie Vitality, sporting a blue-themed camo t-shirt tied at the waist to show a little bit of her stomach, tight yet comfortable black shorts, black combat boots, the dog tags of her deceased father, black fingerless gloves, and a red and blue sweat-band around her upper arm with the Marine’s symbol accompany her on her way to do battle with Alfie Button.
“We know SHE’S ready,” Allie picks up.
“Yes, and it’s a testament to her natural talent, desire, determination, and hard work that we don’t see this rookie, which she is, let’s remind ourselves of that…”
“I know, Lucas,” Reece protests.
“Not enough do, and she’s favorite virtually every time she walks out here, and tonight is no different. The guy standing there – Alfie Button? Been wrestling for eleven years, made his debut against Son of Malta, challenged for World championships, and won some big matches, and not a decade ago – recently. Headline Domination Two and Four against Dream and Darring, no chump let me tell you, and I, for one, am looking forward to this.”
Reece reaches the ring, putting her dog tags down near the timekeeper’s table and then rolling in, fixing her gaze on Button, whose dreamcoat is off. His pixeled tights with shades of blue, yellow, pink, and light green make him easy to spot from the back of The Globe. We’re underway.
A tie-up brings the two of them together, or so we’re led to believe, until Valorie stops short with a cracking roundhouse, which Alfie narrowly avoids, almost like Matrix-style fashion.
“That, right there, sums both of them up,” Deltzer declares, pointing for further emphasis.
They circle one another with Button putting it to Vitality whether there’ll be a collar-and-elbow at the second time of asking, but Val remains stoic and serious.
There will be, it seems. Valorie immediately walks Button back to the top left-hand corner, only for Alfie to swivel her around and break as the assigned official reaches four. The moment the Briton breaks, Vitality engages again, forcing Button back to the corner, only for him to push her back, and then they take turns winning the tie-up until they’re in the adjacent corner, with Alfie currently holding the advantage.
BOO!
He did, until Valorie fired a fantastic right hand off early, jumping the gun so to speak, and ignoring any warning, solely focused on beating and dominating her opposite number.
“This new attitude, I don’t like it,” Reece disapproves.
“Barry Snider, GLOBAL’s head referee, has let things slide early, and I question whether that’s the right thing to do, but I have a feeling Valorie won’t be allowed to get away with too much more,” The Mark implies.
Vitality puts that theory to the test, mounting Button in the corner and palm strikes are the order of the day, raining down on Button’s mane, accompanied by boos I may add, as Barry Snider again reaches four.
Valorie comes down, and receives a brief warning, but when she storms back in, she’s greeted by a storm from London, England…
I PITY THA FOOL! I PITY THA FOOL! I PITY THA FOOL! I PITY THA FOOL!
A quartet of tasty, well-placed European uppercuts has forced the American back several paces in the bottom right-hand corner, and now it’s Button’s turn to mount her in the corner. The crowd count along, drowning out Barry’s…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE…
FOUR…
FIVE…
SIX…
SEVEN…
Vitality finds a way to shove Button off. He dusts himself down, gets back up, and aims a…
SUPERK-Valorie dodges that, seeing the cocky Cockney crotch himself on the middle rope in the corner as a result of his overzealousness, egged on by the capacity crowd, gathered at The Globe.
A dragon screw leg whip, abrupt as it sounds, takes Alfie’s left leg down (and his entire body, for that matter) with a zip, thud, and snap and that, according to The Mark, could change everything.
However, Valorie doesn’t rest on her laurels and jumps on Button in a mount stance, scoring with five hard right hands to the point that Alfie is now flat out on the mat.
That seems to be the signal for Valorie to depart, via the ropes, and head upstairs, given Alfie’s motionless state.
“It’ll be Valorie who kicks things off in the high-flying stakes, what are your thoughts, Mark?” Quinn defers to Deltzer.
“It’s a signal of intent, and significance, for Valorie, especially if she hits THIS,” Deltzer screeches.
CORSCREW SHOOTING STAR PRE-nglish gets out of the way in the nick of time!
“Crashed and burned, and it gives Alfie some hope,” Reece adds.
ONE…
TWO…
“Can he capitalize?” Quinn asks.
THREE…
“Yes,” The Mark affirms.
FOUR…
FIVE…
An exchange of punches, three apiece, sees Valorie win out as her palm strikes prevail at the expense of Alfie’s European uppercuts. She whips Alfie to the top right-hand corner, and as he comes stumbling out…
GERMAN SUPLEX!
Eins
Zwei
D-enied!
“Is Valorie on the verge, already?” Quinn questions his colleagues.
“I think Alfie has a little bit more to offer, but Valorie is efficiently going about her business,” The Mark states.
“Wouldn’t surprise me if she ended this quickly. She has a tendency to finish people and owns the quickest victory in the history of GLOBAL,” Reece reminds everyone.
“What would a win do for both of them? Hold that thought for a moment.”
Quinn is interrupted by Valorie lifting Alfie and choking him in the corner, testing her limits like a rebellious teenager, as she withdraws on four, just avoiding a scolding by head referee, Barry Snider, staring him down.
“For Valorie, it is a move in the right direction, but Button could do with this more, you feel,” Allie admits.
“Neither can afford a defeat, it is of equal importance,” The Mark reckons.
Valorie backs off as a result of being told off by Snider. When she returns, it’s with an additional vigor and venom, or it may have been, however, the Cockney cuts her off with two teeth-rattling European uppercuts. Vitality bites back with a spiteful headbutt to the bridge of the nose, stopping Button dead in his tracks, and capitalizing with a BIG B-utton catches it!
Alfie looks her dead in the eye, and in the flash of an, er, eye, he returns the favor with a dragon screw leg whip of his own.
“Will Alfie capitalize on that?” Allie wonders.
The double down, yet again, reaches four. Button takes Vitality by the head, and leads her a merry dance halfway across the ring, launching himself, up and over the top rope, down to the floor and draping Vitality across the top rope with a hair-pull hangman, OH YEAH, which he calls cliffhanger before bad luck strikes.
“Right in front of us, Allie has just jarred his left leg upon landing, and that looks like a bad one, guys,” Quinn calls as Alfie crumples in a heap, favoring his ankle, which looks to have given way.
Snider stars counting Alfie out, ever so slowly. In the meantime, Valorie rolls out, shaking loose the effects of Button’s recent attack, and comes to collect.
“It’s bubbling, you can tell there’s tension, but it hasn’t quite caught fire yet,” Reece believes.
“I agree,” Quinn adds.
Vitality has Button back on the battlefield, and she is up on the apron, destined to use the rope that was used against her seconds ago.
“What is she waiting for?” Reece asks.
Alfie is up…
…only to be mowed back down via a stunning…
Springboard hurricanrana!
1…
2…
Not quite!
Vitality takes it out on Alfie with some mounted slaps, winding the cheeky geezer up, and he manages to kick her off for some respite. As Button gets back to his vertical base, it isn’t for long. Flustered and frustrated, he wanders right into the BIG BOOT this time!
1…
2…
3?!
NO!
“Every time, Valorie is one, maybe even two, steps ahead of Alfie in the head,” Allie observes.
“He’s a confidence wrestler, for sure, and his confidence is not what it once was,” The Mark sadly laments.
“What do you mean?” Lucas probes.
“He gives off an aura of not giving a you-know-what, but perhaps all of these defeats have finally got to him, and Valorie is clearly under his skin,” Allie leads.
“I’m not sure about that, but it must’ve taken its toll, yes,” Deltzer concedes.
Meanwhile, Valorie unleashes an elbow drop and a kip-up, for added effect, illustrating and underlining Vitality’s dominance. She gets no love from the locals in Los Angeles, or further afield for that matter, and just shakes her head at their disapproval.
Living vicariously though the Londoner, those jeers are converted into cheers. As Valorie approaches Alfie, he springs into action in more ways than one, taking Vitality aback with a stunning kip-up hurricanrana of his own and his bow generates a totally different reaction to Vitality’s merely moments ago.
“He’s right back in this,” The Mack excitedly calls.
HEEERE’S ALFIE!
A sublime standing shooting star press explodes and detonates all over Vitality’s ribs, perhaps putting Alfie’s plan into action.
1…
2…
Button scrapes Vitality up off the mat, whipping her into the top set of ropes, and uncorking a corkscrew elbow that flattens Valorie and increases the decibels among the 2,500-strong capacity crowd in California, willing Alfie on in his quest to overcome Valorie Vitality.
He heads left, only momentarily, running, skipping, and jumping onto the middle rope on the western side of the squared circle to show he and his native country…
…BRITAIN’S GOT TALENT!
The springboard moonsault press connects, and Alfie ‘gets all of it.’
What reward will it reap?
ONE…
TWO…
TH-AT’S NOT ENOUGH!
Alfie goes up top, showing something of a leg injury, but ignoring it…Valorie is there to intercept, no, Alfie pushes her back down…
THEN…
Alfie Button…
COME.
ON.
DOWN.
The fabulous frogpump elbow, a mixture of a frogsplash and an elbow drop, encourages the crowd…
…Then discourages them all at the same time.
Valorie rolls out of the way, avoiding it altogether, and slaps on a timely cross armbreaker.
Alfie yells in pain but is adamant that he isn’t going to give up the ghost, at least not here and now. However, after rejecting Snider’s appeal of quitting for a second time, Vitality almost takes that personally but professionally applies more pressure to Alfie’s arm, causing the Cockney to curse rather loudly, which Lucas apologizes for on commentary. He also points out that it’s normal in the ring, given what they go through, and Alfie is going through the wringer here, constantly one step behind Valorie, whether it be getting the first aerial move in, chopped down via submissions, and who knows what may be round the corner?
POWERBOMB!
See?!
Alfie powers and pushes through the pain to pick up the 126-pound Vitality, with the cross armbreaker still applied and Vitality clinging on for all she’s worth, and is set to drop her with a power-hurricanrana by Vitality to foil the Englishman at the last possible second.
“Again, Valorie proves to be one step ahead of Alfie by countering his counter, and could win it here…”
ONE…
TWO…
TH-AT WAS CLOSE!
Vitality keeps Alfie down with a handstand leg drop and again elects to go up top, via the top left-hand corner. Valorie is perched on the top rope, waiting for Alfie to stand. When he does, Vitality comes down with a double axe han-g on? What is it? It’s not a bird…
It’s a SUPERKICK!!!
“INCREDIBLE,” The Mark proclaims.
In mid-air, Alfie plucks Vitality out of it with a STUNNING superkick, but sadly for him and those gathered in The Globe, the Englishman cannot exploit the gaping opening.
ONE…
TWO…
“It really was,” Lucas echoes as an instant replay is pulled up for the viewers.
THREE…
FOUR…
FIVE…
SIX…
SEVEN…
Alfie is stirring.
EIGHT…
He makes a dive for it…
As one count ceases, another commences…
ONE…
TWO…
THRE-NO!
“Fackin’ ‘ell,” Alfie exclaims, ruffling his mane and pushing his long hair back before dropping Valorie with a DDT as Vitality is crawling on all fours.
He comes over to the top-left corner, sitting Vitality up, and hoists himself up on the middle rope, uncorking a basement reverse elbow to the upper back.
“Cut it out, and normally Alfie does that from the top rope, but maybe, just maybe, because Valorie has caught him up there once or twice, and the same vice-versa, he didn’t want to take as much time to set it up, for fear of getting caught, and it has paid off,” The Mark mentions.
By the time Mark gets all of that out, Alfie is back on the western side of the squared circle and this time, buoyed, the Brit hops over the top rope…
…Valorie is up, and reads it, so Button jumps over, rolls through…
SUPERKICK!
Button flops on top…
…ONE
TWO…
THRE—WHY DON’T YOU ROLL OVER, VALOOOOOOOOOORIE?
“Vitality saves herself at the last-gasp second,” Lucas compliments the ex-marine.
It’s Alfie’s turn to go up…or it should have been. However, Vitality nips that notion in the bid by slamming him halfway across the ring, and off the top rope.
She doesn’t let him register the pain, recover or even breathe.
A cobra clutch is applied, and Alfie is drowning and fading fast. To add to his misery, Valorie decides she’s had enough of the submission and drops her rival with a cobra clutch legsweep, cashing the chips in, and firmly taking control of the contest back as a consequence.
“She’s too good,” Allie laments.
“Alfie must be so disheartened, he’s just had a bright spell, running through the repertoire, and Valorie is back in command…LAST HOORAH!”
Is she ever, Lucas!
Vitality is on the verge of claiming another vital victory, one of the biggest yet, in a blooming career.
“What a year it has been for Valorie, and she’s about to crown it by making an eleven-year veteran and former World championship challenger, the uber-talented Alfie Button, tap out in the middle of the ring in what has to be said, a dominant performance,” Lucas sells.
The STF camel clutch submission is on, and Alfie might be out. Snider’s first queries go unanswered before Button’s eyes grow wide, and he shouts NO defiantly a couple of times, partly to motivate and wake himself up, and that filters into the masses, who in kind, give the English grappler an injection of energy.
Vitality is taken aback, not expecting Button to fight back.
“He’ll give it a go, you can be assured of that,” The Mark promises the GLOBAL Nation.
“That, we can agree on,” Allie attests.
“He’s close,” Quinn muses.
“YES!” Deltzer shouts, unashamedly showing bias.
Alfie gets to the ropes, but Vitality isn’t going to let go without milking it, and is visibly frustrated at having to release the hold, presumably because she thought she had Button and victory in the bag.
After a brief exchange with Snider, she comes to collect. A whip to the buckle…PELE KICK!
“Where did that come from? He calls it Match of The Day, and it might be the most important move of Alfie’s day, because defeat looked inevitable there,” Deltzer admits.
A double-down ensues. Let’s skip to seven.
Alfie’s European uppercut is caught, his wrist twisted, and all turned into a fantastic and fluid reverse STO, which paves the way for something even more meaningful in the form of a code of silence, and will Button be silenced here and now? He’ll have to utter two words first, though.
Again, Alfie is bang in trouble, and Vitality taunts him. She has changed tact, illustrating her more varied arsenal. If the STO put him out for a moment, the Code of Silence woke him up.
“He can’t catch a break,” The Mark throws his hands up.
“Too quick for him,” Allie reminds him.
“But Button still will not quit,” Lucas sounds impressed.
With Vitality’s legs wrapped tightly around his neck, like an anaconda mercilessly strangling its prey, Alfie crawls and crawls, urged to seek shelter in the form of the bottom rope at the top of the ring…and he gets there!
“Submissions have succeeded in grounding Alfie, but Button hasn’t quit, so Valorie may change gears here, and go for something else, having worn Button down,” Lucas analyzes.
Vitality gets Alfie up for a powerbomb-ed! A facebuster counter throws a spanner in the works, as The Mark tells everyone the counter is called “Ratings Slump.”
1…
2…
3…
4…
5…
6…
Vitality is up first…Alfie dives through her legs…roll-up…Vitality falls down…
1…
2…
“Not quite enough,” The Mark rues.
However, Valorie beats – and keeps him – down with a flurry of double axe handles to the neck and back.
A whip sends Button north, but he returns south and puts Vitality down with something that gets the crowd, commentators and himself going with a potentially tide-turning…
RED BUTTON!
“Wow,” Reece is shocked.
“If Alfie could get there, this would be over,” The Mark reckons in response to Button’s take on the Flying Chuck Kick.
ONE…
TWO…
THREE…
FOUR…
FIVE…
SIX…
SEVEN…
EIGHT…
This time, Alfie is up first, and he makes the calculated risk to come to the outside…SEASON FIN-Valorie catches and crotches him on the top rope before take-off on the scintillating 720 DDT, suplexing him back into the battleground…or does she?
Alfie lands on his feet and attempts a superkick, but Valorie senses the go-to tactic being spammed, hardly surprising, and goes low with a leg sweep attempt that works, and tries to grab the STF again, but Alfie grabs the ropes before she can really sink her claws into him.
“Desperate times, as they say,” The Mark conveys.
1…
2…
3…
4…
5…
6…
They kip up at the same time!
“Scary,” Allie raves.
The crowd cheers.
Circling, Alfie and Valorie come together with a collar-and-elbow, and Alfie emerges triumphantly, in this instance at least, with two, you know what’s coming, don’t you?
I PITY THA FOOL!
I PITY THA FOOL!
He whips Vitality back to the top right corner, but Valorie lands on the middle rope, and as Button dashes in, she catches him beautifully with a sunset flip powerbomb!
ONE…
TWO…
THR—NO!
Vitality thought she had it, but this team, she doesn’t get mad. She gets even more vicious.
THE LAST, LAST HOORAH!
Will it turn out to be just that?
The STF camel clutch is on once again, and Alfie may have run his last race. He isn’t responding as Valorie tightens her grip. However, sensing that Alfie is out, Valorie suddenly drops him, and gets a telling-off by Snider.
“That’s confidence for you,” Reece reasons.
Instead, she stands Button up, who’s on wobbly legs, and a double roundhouse kick decks Button. She shakes her head, not content with putting the Brit out of his misery, kicking him in the ribs for good measure.
Eventually, he climbs to his feet, and she takes a step back before firing in a quick one-two of a scorpion kick and a spinning back kick wind and ground Button.
“Enough’s enough,” Lucas implores Snider to step in.
However, Vitality is now stood on the bottom rope, having dragged a hapless Button towards her…
Moonsault!
She’s not done. The middle rope is her next destination…
Moonsault!
Finally, she heads to the summit…
MOONSAULT!
“Solider’s Final Flight,” The Mark calls.
“And Alfie’s final fight,” Reece chucks in.
Only now does Valorie hook Alfie’s legs, staring at the camera with a menace in her eyes…
One…
Two…
Three!!!
“Valorie Vitality racks up another wonderful win, yes, she was favorite, and we said that from the outset, but turning up and beating someone of Alfie Button’s quality doesn’t just happen overnight,” Lucas compliments the victor.
“I beg to differ, like you said before, a year in, and she makes it look easy.”
“Not just anyone can do that a year in, Allie,” Lucas counters.
“That, I can get behind.”
Despite the boos, Vitality shrugs them off and goes to collect her dog tags as the camera shows Alfie still unconscious, spread-eagled on the deck.
“His pride will be damaged,” The Mark predicts.
“Where does he go from here?” Quinn puts it to Deltzer.
“I really don’t know, but he’ll be back. I know that,” Mark promises.
“I can’t wait, but something has to change for him. He has lost his way in GLOBAL. No shame in losing to Valorie, though,” Lucas reminds us, as she walks up the aisle, controlled, nowhere near as plucky or enthusiastic as when she walked out just over a year ago.
“Where does she go, Allie?”
Reece pauses for a second, watching Vitality leave.
“Wherever she wants, whenever she wants, and I genuinely believe she should be talked about as a potential contender to Sean Darring – or Jerry David – but perhaps she needs a win over an Alex Reyn or a Daniel Dream first,” Allie declares.
“Some statement,” The Mark chips in.
“One I stand by.”
THE FORCE AWAKENS
“Welcome to the new normal.”
This short but impactful sentence rings out across the arena just as its speaker, a muscular woman with dark hair clad in a leather jacket and jeans, emerges through the curtain and smirks at the livid audience. Predictably, the boos only intensify with this display of defiant insouciance, but the fever-pitch reaction appears to have no effect on the woman, who simply continues her address as she begins to make her way toward her associates, gesturing around her at the pile of laid-out bodies as she goes.
“See, this…what you see right here…this is only the beginning. This is nothing but a demonstration of what happens when scum-sucking nobodies decide to get cute with us.”
The brunette leans over and yanks a tuft of the unconscious Angel’s hair, leaning over to speak directly in her face.
“I TOLD you you didn’t get to make demands of me, little rat. I TOLD you you didn’t get to have what you wanted. You didn’t listen. And now all of your friends are hurt, because of YOU.”
As she stands back up, a sadistic smirk has appeared in the woman’s features, which remains in place even as another round of hate-fuelled jeering rains down on her from the stands – one which she, once again, almost nonchalantly ignores, as she now turns towards the entrance curtain, as if addressing someone backstage.
“See, these men right here…” She gestures towards her associates, both those standing, the couple only now recovering, and those still laid out. “…these men right here are no longer your punching bags. No longer your stepping stones. No longer the poor sad sacks you trot out when you need an easy fight and you want to look good. No longer your ENHANCEMENT.”
This last word is spat out with as much vitriol as the brunette can muster, as, behind her, her two standing associates scowl.
“No…what you don’t realize is that everything has changed. What you don’t realize is that these men were tired of being held down. Overlooked. Ignored. Dismissed. Disregarded. Made goddamn jokes out of.” Once again, each word drops with all the impact of an icy nail, even through the crowds boos. “What you don’t realize is that there is power in anger. There is power in frustration. And most of all…there is power in mobilization.”
The brunette looks around as, slowly but surely, her group begins to assemble around Steve Dann and Flanagan, beaten, but not broken. Even Joe Public sports a proud smirk and holds his back a little straighter as he joins the ranks, despite the death glares still being shot his way by the group’s two main lieutenants. The squad leader, however, chooses to ignore these, simply gesturing towards her otherwise united front as she continues.
“Nevermind Twelve Angry Men…all you really need is six.”
The six in question gesture insultingly at the crowd, who reacts in kind, as their leader continues.
“See, on their own, these men may have been nobodies…but together…they are a Force. WE are a Force…”
The woman then surprises each of her six soldiers by moving into line with them and holding up the hands of the men to either side of her, Steve Dann and Flanagan. The rest of the squad almost instinctively follows suit, and it is with seven pairs of arms linked in a triumphant chain above the group’s head that the woman concludes.
“…a GLOBAL Force.”
Then, breaking the arrangement as soon as she had created it, the woman points all six of her men towards Angel Ramirez, her barked order ringing through the Globe loud and clear.
“GET HER!”
With this, and to the horror and revulsion of the crowd, all six of the group’s members begin to stomp a mudhole into the prone young Latina, adding insult to injury!
“NO!!!”
“Haven’t these men done enough?!”
“We get it – you won! Leave the kid alone!!”
As all three announcers voice their displeasure – Mark Deltzer looking ready to leave his chair and confront the six men himself – the increasingly vocal audience is finally given something to cheer about (and someone to cheer for) as a group of figures come pelting down the ramp to engage the six men!
“TROUBLE ROXX!!! THE METAL MILITIA!!! THE RICH FAMILY!!! THE CAVALRY ARE HERE!!!”
“How do you like the numbers game NOW, boys?”
To their credit, Miranda Wright’s men brace themselves to take on the unfavourable odds; the squad leader, however, has other ideas, and quickly barks orders at her battle-worn squadron to regroup and retreat. The squad members appear all too happy to do so, and soon beat a hasty retreat, lined up single-file behind Wright. Angel’s saviors are therefore left to hurl taunts and challenges at their backs, before devoting their full attention to helping their fallen comrades back to consciousness, and to their feet. Even without a confrontation, however, their appearance was enough to change the mood, and the announcers now struggle to make themselves heard over a raucous ovation.
“Of COURSE they didn’t want to face the odds! Gee, who would’ve thunk it, right?”
“I don’t know, Allie…I think it was Miranda who didn’t want to risk it. I think they would have gone for it. That’s how crazed they’ve become!”
“I agree with Mark. They’re not just dangerous, they’re RECKLESS. And that makes it all the more urgent that somebody steps in to stop them.”
“We may be looking at those ‘somebodies’ down there right now…”
“One can only hope, Mark…one can only hope…”
It is with the able-bodied wrestlers helping the battle casualties up the entranceway and towards the curtain, under heartfelt applause from the crowd, that the feed cuts elsewhere.
LAST MINUTE BRIEFING
“OK, everybody know what they’re doing?”
The two men and the young woman standing across from GLOBAL International Champion John J. Truth all nod, the taller of the two males offering a few words of reassurance.
“Don’t worry, boss. We got your back.”
“…that’s what I was afraid of.” GLOBAL’s most controversial superstar rolls his eyes, before turning back towards his associate. “I’m gonna say this one more time, just so you two assholes get it through your thick skulls…” Truth pokes a finger into each man’s chest, in a gesture which might have resulted in a broken appendage, had the duo not been on the Champion’s payroll. “…STAND. BACK. You got that?” Both men nod. “Good. I don’t want to give this son of a bitch any excuses to go crying to the goddamn suits about us ‘cHeAtInG tO wIn’ or whatever.” Truth applies air quotes to his last few words, performing his usual mocking quasi-impersonation of anyone who disagrees with him.
“IF these boys see that you’re in trouble, though, John…they’ll step in and deal with it. Won’t you, boys?” The woman’s honeyed tone has both men just as agreeable and compliant as Truth’s harsher demeanor, much to the latter’s displeasure.
“Jesus Christ, Lexi! They knew what I meant! They’re not stupid! Well, not that stupid, anyway…”
“It never hurts to clarify, John. They might have thought you meant ‘stand down, no matter what’…”
“Yeah, boss. You did say ‘stand down’, and not nothin’ else…”
This last remark, from the taller and broader of his two male acolytes, has Truth facepalming.
“…I stand corrected. Jesus tapdancin’ Christ, Lincoln…!”
The woman named Lexi is, as ever, quick to defuse the situation.
“Not that they’ll need to, of course. You won’t have any trouble whatsoever beating that horrible thug. You’re the General…!”
The brunette’s thousand-watt smile is, however, not enough to prevent a scowl from Truth.
“I still wish we could have had Staggs for this. What were you thinking, Lexi?!”
Lexi, however, simply giggles off the question. “I told you, John. I wasn’t.”
“Clearly…” John side-eyes his accomplice for a moment longer, then judges it better to carry on with business. “Who do we have, by the way?”
“Referee?” Lexi affects a moment of thought. “Mr. Sullivan, I think they said it was…”
“Sullivan?! SULLIVAN?!” The mere mention of the name makes the International Champion splutter. “Now do you see what you’ve done?! He’s the toughest bastard out of all of ’em! He’s not going to let anything slide! And he can’t be bought, either! GgGgGnNnHhH….”
Truth’s rant devolves into a continuous sound of frustration as he buries his head in his hands in an attempt to calm himself down. Lexi, however, appears unfazed, simply stepping in to place a hand on his shoulder.
“John…. John…! Look at me. Look at me…!”
As she says this, she gently lifts Truth’s face out from between his hands, a gesture he surprisingly allows, and turns it towards her own.
“I told you, John. You don’t need any advantages. You have the little thug running scared. This match tonight is your statement. And you will make a statement. Without any help from the referee, or me, or the boys, or anybody else. Do you understand?”
Another moment of silent gazing elapses between the two, before John nods, in turn causing Lexi to beam.
“Fantastic! That’s the General I know and respect!”
These words make Truth, too, break into a smile, which only widens when Lexi steps in again and plants a kiss on his cheek.
“There. For luck.”
With that, turns towards the two bodyguards, her beaming smile fading to a confident grin.
“Let’s go, boys. It’s nearly time.” She looks over her shoulder at Truth. “General…do the honors.”
Still a little bamboozled by the rapid succession of events, John J. Truth is nevertheless quick to sling his American Championship over his shoulder and lead the way out of the door, into the arena hallway, and towards the most important matchup of his life.
JOHN J TRUTH V CRUSADER X
INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP
Never has the fanfare of “Stars and Stripes Forever” managed to dredge up quite such a negative reaction as when it begins to emit through The Globe’s speakers, indicating the arrival of the company’s most hated group of contracted superstars – and drawing the predictable groan from Allie Reece.
“Oh, NO…! Is it THIS time already?”
“I’m afraid so, Allie. John J. Truth is set to defend his International Championship against Crusader X.”
“UGGGGHHHH!”
“C’mon, Al. You knew it was coming at SOME point. At least we had advance warning…”
“Ugh…I guess…”
When the group does come out, they achieve the double prowess of also being booed while waving the biggest American flag available in the State of California, along with other, more regular-sized flags. The ride-on lectern the Champion and his female cohort come riding in on is similarly bedecked with the Stars and Stripes, the same motif which adorns Truth’s Apollo Creed cape and top hat, as well as, on this occasion, his wrestling tights. By his side, the attractive young brunette he appears to have teamed up with is, as ever, attempting to take over “Downtown” Brown’s job, though her voice is barely audible over the sea of boos.
“Ladies and gentlemen…please rise in salute…of YOUR GLOBAL American Champion…and mine…GENERAL JOHN! J.! TRUTH!”
The already nuclear levels of jeering only intensify, and Allie Reece struggles to make herself heard over the raucous din.
“Does he think he’s representing America? Because he’s not representing ME…”
As he wheels past a cameraman, the Champion makes a point to turn towards it and state that “the illegal’s been mighty quiet lately”. He then just as quickly dodges an incoming projectile – which appears to be a half-eaten hot dog – before turning away once again and regaining his composure…
…but not for long, as a figure suddenly comes sprinting from the back and barrels into him, sending the lectern tilting forward and crashing to the ground!
“CRUSADER X ATTACKING FROM BEHIND!!”
“How d’you like that, Champ? An eye for an eye!”
Truth’s female companion has just enough time to dive into the arms of the two bodyguards behind her, shrieking in horror, before the whole contraption hits the concrete floor of the entranceway, sending a deafening clatter echoing across the Globe, which causes many a fan in attendance to either jump out of their shoes, cover their ears, or both.
The two men tussling directly beside the structure, however, barely seem to notice this – or, indeed, anything else around them. The masked man, in particular, appears hellbent on bashing the Champion’s head into the barricade, much to the delight of nearby fans. He then throws Truth into the steel structure, sending it crashing down…before being accosted by both of the latter’s bodyguards!
“Well, what did he expect?”
“I guess he wasn’t thinking, unfortunately…”
The duo have barely managed to take the challenger down, however, before another figure rushes in for the rescue – Crusader X’s own tag team partner!
“ALFIE BUTTON TAKING ON LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON AT THE SAME TIME!!”
Indeed, the owner of the Technicolor Dreamcoat has just sacrificed himself to give his partner an opening – which Crusader X takes, tripping up the closest of Truth’s security guards and sending him tumbling into the other! Then, as both men fumble to disentangle themselves, he rolls back through to his feet, and makes as if to help Alfie fight them. His partner, however, shakes his head, pointing at Truth.
“Go get ‘im.”
X hesitates for another moment, clearly torn, then holds out a fist to Archie. The Brit touches it with his own, all the while urging the masked man not to lose sight of his quarry – advice which X heeds, leaving Alfie to make himself scarce as he himself focuses in on Truth.
“Alfie Button providing backup for X here…but also helping him remember who his true target is.”
As the two men separate, Truth’s two bodyguards clearly hesitate as to who they should focus on; their female associate, however, prevents them from being baited by the distraction provided by Alfie, instead pointing to where their leader needs help. The two men nod and begin to run in the opposite direction…
…but are too late to prevent Crusader X from shoving the groggy Truth under the ropes and into the ring.
“Both competitors are in the ring…”
“…despite Border Control’s best efforts…”
“…and the referee has called for the bell! Here we go!”
Predictably, the early goings in the match proper belong to Crusader X, whose method of retribution for previous matches has succeeded in wearing down his opponent. The masked man is, therefore, able to connect with a vicious thrust kick to the head of Truth, whom he has propped up in a seated position in the corner. He backs up and delivers another, then a third, presumably purging all of the hatred, anger and frustration the target has caused him over the past few months.
“Crusader is not holding back at ALL here tonight…but who can blame him?”
“Who, indeed, Mark?”
Seeing their leader in trouble, the two security agents appear ready to intervene, and it takes a hand gesture and a few hushed words from their female associate to deter them from this goal and make them stand down. As such, they are forced to watch helplessly as the International/American Champion is hit with a low roundhouse kick and a corner dropsault, before being pulled away from the turnbuckle and towards the center of the ring, and put into a sleeper hold. Here, however, he does manage to put up some resistance, and a wild elbow flies at Crusader’s head; fortunately for Truth, this connects with precisely X’s weak spot – his chin – causing him to release the hold and reel back a few steps in pain and surprise.
This is all the opening the American Champion needs to put some distance between him and his opponent, and attempt to regain a vertical position. As such, quick though X is in going back on offence, Truth is nevertheless able to catch him with a kick of his own – a wild push kick which succeeds in sending Crusader reeling back enough for Truth to finish regaining a vertical position. The challenger is right back on offence again, but this time, the Champion is able to counter with a rolling elbow, straight to Crusader’s nose! A loud crunching sound echoes across the Globe, causing fans in attendance and at home to wince, and the announcers to gasp.
“BRUTAL shot to the face of Crusader X from John J. Truth…but the challenger’s strategy appears to have worked…”
Indeed, no sooner has he connected with the strike than Truth’s legs threaten to give out, forcing him to lean against the ropes. Crusader once again wastes no time, throwing him to the outside, then diving after him with a suicide dive, which topples them both to the floor!
“BIG DIVE from Crusader X to the outside!”
“That is his specialty, but he needs to be careful…there are snakes around the outside of the ring…”
“Snakes? I would say they were hyenas…and fully ready to pounce…”
Indeed, Truth’s two bodyguards are visibly jittery with the desire to help their boss, and the woman in the power suit has her hands full attempting to contain them, as she herself looks on in undisguised apprehension. In fact, all three of Truth’s acolytes appear rooted to the spot as, across the ring from them, their leader takes an Asai moonsault on the floor from the increasingly fired-up Crusader X!
“Crusader really is putting his body on the line in this match so far, in pursuit of revenge against John J. Truth!”
“That’s right, Quinn. I guess he took Truth’s comments about not bleeding for the belt to heart, since he appears ready to do just that here tonight!”
“What I’m curious about is, why aren’t Truth’s gang getting involved? Normally, they’d be all over X by now…”
“Maybe they’ve had their profiles suspended, and can’t post…”
“…very clever, Mark. But you know what I meant.” Quinn pauses for a moment, before resigning himself to his lot. “I guess Alfie is enough of a deterrent…or maybe there’s some other, esoteric reason. I guess we’ll never know…”
As the announcers banter, Crusader X has managed to bring the bout back into the ring, literally wrestling Truth onto the apron, and then under the ropes. He then scales the turnbuckle, looking to connect with a diving tornillo…
…but Truth rolls out of the way, causing his challenger to eat a mouthful of mat!
“Crusader crashes and burns, and he needs to recover quickly, if he wants to retain his advantage in this match!”
To his credit, X attempts to do just that, quickly scrambling onto his knees; Truth, however, has revived and has other ideas, handing his opponent a receipt for all the kicks to the head earlier.
“Running punt to the skull of Crusader X!”
“Neither man is holding back here so far. This one’s been a slobberknocker from the jump, and it looks like it will keep on going that way!”
“Notice how Truth never even went for a pin. This is about more than just a title belt. This is personal. From BOTH sides.”
As if to prove Allie right, rather than drop down and cover, Truth is heard yelling “STAY DOWN, BOY!” before beginning to put the boot to Crusader X on the floor. Referee Duncan Sullivan is therefore forced to intervene, telling Truth to back off. The controversial superstar, however, has no intention of complying, instead reminding the referee that he is the top Champion in the company, and he can do what he wants. Sullivan’s response is, in turn, to point out that he, Sullivan, has the power to make Truth lose that status with one call. Truth, however, seems intent on arguing the point…that is, until he gets pulled down into a jumping neckbreaker from Crusader X!
“X profiting from Truth’s own self-created distraction, and landing a big impact move!”
“Again, notice how he specifically went for a move, as opposed to a roll-up. These two don’t want to win – they want to hurt one another.”
Suddenly, the announcers’ analysis is interrupted by a loud, sarcastic snarl.
“STAY DOWN, BOY!”
The crowd EXPLODE as Crusader X hands John J. a receipt of his own, before backing up all the way to the ropes and diving in with a baseball slide to the back of Truth’s head!
“HOLY SMOKES!”
“BRUTAL offense from both men here, reflecting their feelings for one another!”
As he rolls through to his feet, Crusader pauses to acknowledge the crowd for the first time, holding up his arms in the trademark cross-shape in response to the deafening chants of “X!” echoing all across the arena. Knowing he must not lose sight of Truth for too long, however, he quickly spins around and steps in towards his opponent, lifting him up; even those few moments were precious, however, as Truth is able to literally come up swinging, landing a series of punches to his opponent’s midsection X bucks with each blow, but manages to bring his opponent to a fully vertical position regardless, fighting through Truth’s punches, and blocking his sudden attempt at an uppercut, before countering with one of his own! He then lands a second before Truth has time to react, but is rocked by a counter as he goes for a third! Truth is therefore able to add a repeat of his own, and soon, the two are engaged in an all-out uppercut slugfest in the center of the ring!
“X and Truth now going at it with fists!!”
“What this match lacks in finesse, it makes up for in ruthless aggression!”
“…Careful with your wording, Quinn…you might get us sued for copyright infringement!”
Despite the fact that he has the strength advantage in the punch-out, John Truth still strives to ensure he retains the upper hand, by suddenly switching from uppercuts to a brutal headbutt, which rocks Crusader X. The masked man takes a couple of steps backwards, and Truth wastes no time, letting loose with a stinging five-fingered poke which catches X between the eyes, and then pressing his thumbs into the eyes themselves!
“X feels the Sting of Truth…but it appears Sullivan did not much like those pokes to the eyes…”
Indeed, John’s underhanded blow has not escaped the referee’s attention, and he once again wants a word with the Champion. Like before, however, Truth is less than agreeable to this, and argues his case with the referee, oblivious to Lexi’s insistent pleas to drop the subject and re-focus on X. Predictably, this gives the masked man an opening, and he promptly capitalises by leaping onto Truth’s shoulders and connecting with a poisoned frankensteiner, which sends his opponent flying halfway across the ring, much to Allie Reece’s delight.
“That’ll teach him not to be a little whiny baby!”
The crowd, too, are elated by the electrifying move, and X himself cannot resist a moment of interaction with the crowd, as he once again throws up his arms in the shape of his namesake letter, before running towards his opponent looking for a Canadian Destroyer…
…which gets reversed into a big backdrop by Truth!
“X was looking to finish it with the running Canadian Destroyer and the Parasite’s End, but Truth was able to counter that time…”
“…and he seems mighty pleased about it…”
Indeed, finding himself back on top, the Champion immediately begins to jawjack at his opponent again, telling him he is “not winning this” and once again calling him “boy”. Even as he does so, however, he continues to move, ramming through his opponent with a running shoulder block. He stands over X for a moment, yelling “STAY THE BLEEP D O W N!”, before dropping an elbow on the masked man. He goes for a repeat, but X displays his amazing reflexes by popping up, seemingly out of nowhere, catching his opponent’s arm in midair, and sending him sprawling into the corner with an arm drag!
“WHAT A REVERSAL by X!!!”
“Top THAT, Truth!”
Like the announcers, the crowd, too, erupt as X pulls off the incredibly impressive counter; knowing better than to rest on his laurels, however, the challenger immediately follows up with a dropsault to the seated Truth in the corner, landing on his feet and running straight back in with a low roundhouse kick to his opponent’s face, which floors him!
“STAY THE BLEEP D O W N!”
The crowd cheer once more as X again mocks Truth, refusing to be condescended to by the International Champion. He then reaches in and grabs a handful of his opponent’s hair, using it to pull him up; this, however, is when Truth once again comes alive, surging forward and ramming his head into X’s midsection, creating enough separation for him to bail out of the ring – a move which, predictably, does not sit well with the crowd.
“Well, at least he put his hard head to use…”
Deltzer’s attempt at a joke falls flat, however, with both the crowd and his announce partners being more interested in X’s immediate reaction to John bailing outside – namely, to leap over the ropes and take the Champion down with a Tope con Hilo!
“HIGH IMPACT ONCE AGAIN FROM THE CHALLENGER!!”
“Still no reaction from Truth’s team, though…either they’ve become sick of him, or they were told not to interfere…”
“Judging by the personal nature of this match, I would not discount the latter…”
As the announcers speculate about the lack of inactivity from the two suited men, on the opposite side of the ring, X is only just rolling off Truth, as Sullivan’s count reaches ‘FOUR!’ At ‘FIVE!’, he leans down to bring his opponent up, this time keeping his head at a distance as he throws him against the barricade. He does not let go, however, and promptly spins around 180 degrees to throw him against the ring post behind them. Still with Truth in his grasp, he smashes the Champion’s head against it a few times, then shoves him onto the apron, and finally into the ring. He then begins to scale the turnbuckle, ahead of launching off with his patented corkscrew moonsault. The crowd explodes as the masked man takes off…
….then groan as the move goes awry!
“X MARKS THE—KNEES UP FROM TRUTH!!”
Indeed, the Champion’s survival instinct has once again kicked in, and he throws his knees up just in time to catch X square in the midsection. The challenger crumples into a heap, and the American Championship holder takes the opportunity to pull himself back to his feet, somehow managing to tune out the sea of boos descending upon him as he shakes off the cobwebs and regains his composure. Then, wasting no more time than strictly necessary, he goes about removing the turnbuckle pads – a goal Duncan Sullivan is immediately at hand to prevent.
“Duncan Sullivan’s experience in the business showing there, as he prevents Truth from exposing the turnbuckles…”
“…but Truth is NOT happy!”
“…when is he ever?”
As Allie Reece makes a very good point, in the ring, the Champion gives it credence, as he once again begins to vehemently argue with the ref, telling him to get off his case and reiterating that, as “the top Champion in this goddamn place”, he can do whatever he feels like. No amount of efforts from Lexi on the outside are able to make him drop the matter, and as such, it only really gets resolved when a recovered Crusader X comes up from behind and does to Truth what Truth was getting ready to do to him, much to the delight of the crowd in attendance .- and Allie Reece.
“HA! Turnabout’s fair play, asshole!”
The noise from the stands remains at fever pitch as X leaps onto the turnbuckle and, without letting go of Truth’s head, connects with a springboard flipping reverse DDT, driving Truth head-first into the mat!
“PARASITE’S BANE connecting!!”
“…X is starting to show off just a little, though. He had better check himself before he gets too carried away…”
The purpose of the move becomes apparent a moment later, however, when Crusader once again goes up top, only to leap off with yet another corkscrew moonsault! This time the move connects, and X goes for the cover!
“X MARKS THE SPOT…but wait, why isn’t Sullivan counting?”
Indeed, rather than slide in to count, the match official is instead pointing at the ropes – or rather, at the space UNDER the ropes, where John J. Truth has just about managed to place his foot! The crowd, who have been booing what they perceive as a repeat of the Shane Staggs debacle, now jeer even louder for the reigning Champion’s lucky escape, as X himself exhibits body language which conveys irritation and frustration that he was unable to put Truth away. Even still, he is loath to relinquish his momentum, and quickly goes back up top again, leaping off a moment later with a double rotation moonsault. Mark Deltzer is almost giddy when he calls it.
“X
MARKS
THE
WHAT?!”
NO!!! TRUTH ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY, AND CRUSADER CRASH-LANDS ONCE MORE!!
“X pulling out the big guns here, but Truth manages to delay the ending yet again!”
“And what’s worse – now he has the upper hand again!”
Not that he will be able to use it, as the simple effort of regaining a vertical position already has him stumbling and pausing for a breather. One such moment sees him lean over the turnbuckle, where he finally manages to sneakily remove the cover pad, hiding his actions with his body so Sullivan won’t see it. When, a moment later, he fully regains his bearings again, he has therefore endeavored to create an advantage for himself, which he promptly seeks to explore, bringing Crusader to his feet and ramming his head against the exposed buckle; at one point, however, X manages to turn the tide, and Truth eats a faceful of turnbuckle in his own right!
This, predictably, incenses the Champion, who drives an elbow backwards into Crusader’s face, managing to connect and create enough separation for Truth to drive his heel backwards into his opponent’s private parts, causing him to cry out in pain!
“Was that accidental..? Or did Truth mean to hit Crusader down ‘there’?”
“Gee…what’cha think, Mark?”
“Intentional or not, it worked. And Sullivan never saw it!”
The upper hand newly regained, Truth shoves Crusader face-first into the mat, in what is not so much a move as a gesture of humiliation. He then compounds this by placing a foot on the back of X’s head and pushing down, all while scraping his boot across it.
“KNOW YOUR PLACE, BOY!”
Nuclear boos begin to emanate from the stands at this – only to turn into cheers when Sullivan steps in, clearly indicating no such behavior is taking place in his ring. The reaction from Truth is predictable in its angry and confrontational nature, with Truth openly defying the referee by landing a vicious, crunching stomp to the back of X’s head, but nobody in the arena is able to predict what happens next. Truth walks over to the corner, in full view of the referee, and motions for his posse to retrieve the Championship belt. Sullivan, evidently, seeks to prevent this, threatening the International Champion with disqualification, but Truth’s only response is to snap at the referee.
“You are REALLY starting to PISS ME OFF!”
With that, and now in full possession of the belt, Truth swings it around and whacks Sullivan smack in the forehead, sending him hurtling to the floor!
“JOHN J. TRUTH JUST ATTACKED DUNCAN SULLIVAN!”
The Champion is clearly pleased with himself as he yells at the prone Sullivan to “disqualify THIS, motherBLEEPer!”, before reminding him that he is the Champion, and he calls the shots. He then steps in towards the recovering Crusader X, and makes as if to swing the belt at HIM…
…only to feel his hand be stayed, as somebody grabs the belt from behind!
“ALFIE!!! ALFIE BUTTON IS TRYING TO TAKE THE BELT FROM JOHN J. TRUTH!”
Predictably, Truth is not at all happy about this, hurling homophobic slurs at Alfie as he tells him to “let go!” After a long moment’s tussle, he eventually does manage to retrieve his Championship title…but, like at the start of the match, the distraction proves effective, as Alfie’s intervention allows Crusader X to recover, and surprise Truth from behind before he has time to turn around!
“PARASITE’S END CONNECTING!”
“But there is no one to count the pin!”
Indeed, while Truth has been caught dead to rights by X’s trademark Canadian Destroyer, Duncan Sullivan remains knocked out, ruling out the possibility of a pin. Crusader does not appear to mind this too awfully much, however, barely allowing Truth to get back up before nailing him with a superkick! The Champion goes down like a log…but, a moment later, so does Crusader, as he is hit from behind with stereo lariats!
“WELCOME TO AMERICA, MOTHER*BLEEP*ER!”
Lincoln and Washington have, at long last, decided to intervene, in keeping with the pre-match briefing from their boss, and continue to stomp away at Crusader X even after he is down for the count. This only lasts a moment, however, before their actions are hindered yet again by Crusader’s cavalry, who seems perfectly content to fight both Border Control agents two-on-one to avenge the treatment of his friend.
“MATCH OF THE DAY KICK FROM ALFIE BUTTON TO THE HEAD OF WASHINGTON!”
“And he’s looking to do the same to Lincoln, as well!”
Indeed, the intrepid Englishman leaps up at his opponent, his intention abundantly clear; Lincoln, however, is quicker, plucking the daredevil from midair and placing him over his shoulder, before performing a running powerslam over the ropes to the outside.
“Alfie Button just became a victim of Deportation!!”
“This match has broken down completely!!”
“Did you expect anything less? I’m just surprised it took them this long…”
“I still think they had orders from Truth to stand down unless the situation called for it. His whole attitude throughout this match has been different than usual. I think he wanted to win this one on his own.”
“Well, look where that got him…”
“At any rate, any chance he had is long gone by this point, and currently Lincoln of Border Control is the only one left standing…”
“…except Sullivan is coming to, look!”
Indeed, the match referee is just now recovering from the blatant attack by Truth, and beginning to regain his bearings. He kneels on all fours for a second, shaking off the last of the impact, then pushes himself to his feet, the better to survey the situation around him. He looks around…
….sees Crusader X, Truth and Washington laid out…
…sees the GLOBAL International Championship lying on the canvas between them…
…sees Alfie Button unconscious on the outside…
…sees Lincoln inside the ring and mugging to the crowd…
…remembers what happened just before he lost consciousness…
…and has no hesitation, promptly calling for the bell!
“That’s it! Sullivan’s called it! This one is officially over!”
“Mercifully over, you mean…”
Indeed, while the sound of the bell startles Lincoln, who whirls around and steps in towards Sullivan menacingly, the official’s decision is final, and it only takes another moment before “Downtown” Brown is relaying the match result to the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, as the result of a disqualification…CRUSADER X! Still your GLOBAL International Champion, through Champion’s advantage…John J. Truth.”
Brown’s tone is, as ever, completely flat as he announces the name of GLOBAL’s most controversial superstar, nearly getting drowned under the nuclear sea of boos which rains down from all corners of the arena. Lincoln now looks murderously towards the timekeeper, seemingly ready to throttle him right along with the referee, and it takes a quick soothing intervention from Lexi to make him stand down and focus on helping his associates regain consciousness, while, a few feet away, the announcers discuss what just transpired.
“John J. Truth once again finagled his way out of a title defence…but for how long?”
“There was no ‘finagling’ about it, Mark. The man is unhinged. Dangerous. In words as well as actions. He has to be stopped. And if Crusader X can’t be the one to stop him, then somebody will have to step up.”
“I still have faith in Crusader, personally, Lucas. He was on the right track here tonight, before Truth snapped and lost it for himself…”
“I don’t think he lost it for himself at all, Mark. I think, after a certain point, he MEANT to lose, because he knew he would retain regardless. He is not just dangerous – he is also cunning. Again, he HAS to be stopped.”
“You’re not wrong there, Allie. For now, however, his reign lives on for at least another fortnight…”
“…which is nothing short of tarnishing for our brand-new International Championship…”
It is on Allie Reece’s typically vitriolic observation, and a shot of the two awake members of Truth Control still attempting to revive their associates, even as EMTs rush down to check on Crusader X and Alfie, that the transmission begins to pan out, before finally cutting elsewhere.
HAPPY NEW YEAR - AGAIN
Maximus Armstrong Calvin Kronk, the shirtless and massively-built, bandana-wearing mustached man-mountain is back on an LA highway, even though we’re in winter than summer, not that Los Angeles is the coldest place, but still.
“DID YOU ALL HAVE A HAPPY TWENTY TWENTY-THREE? WELL, I HOPE TWENTY TWENTY-FOUR BRINGS EVEN MORE!”
His voice rises above the sound of his pickup truck’s engine, the light wind and passing traffic, not that many people will outspeed this maniac.
“BUY MORE GASOLINE, EAT MORE MEAT, AND TRAVEL WHEREVER YOU DAMN WELL PLEASE. IT’S ALL A LOAD OF NONSENSE, HANDSOME MEN AND GORGEOUS WOMEN. THEY WANNA CONTROL YOU – DON’T LET THEM! BE THE PERSON YOU WANNA BE, NOT THE PERSON THEY EXPECT YA TO BE! YOU’LL SEE MORE OF YOUR UNCLE MACK IN THE NEW YEAR! KEEP CALM AND WATCH GLOBAL!”
ACROSS THE MILES...
A roar and gasp goes up as the GLOBAL Nation feasts its eyes on a well-known wrestler from another company.
With his hair combed to the left, the five-ten, two hundred and twenty-pound sensation, famed for his in-ring skills and even more for causing controversy any time he opens his mouth, Jonny Miles, the so-called wrestler of his generation, spits on the floor and rubs it in with the bottom of his foot.
“GLOBAL. Your Uncle Jonny here. How sad must you all be to be excited for a match between a pensioner and a comedian, oooh, it’s in a steel cage? Tom and Jerry was right about one thing, though. Darring, why don’t you pick on someone worthy? Not that Victoria and David fits the bill. In fact, why don’t you all come to Miami, Sean’s hometown, to really test yourselves? Yeah, I’m starting a war between our two promotions. Let’s see if anyone’s got the balls to finish what I’ve just started. Merry Fuckin’ Christmas, you morons,” he says, shaking his head.
Lucas looks at The Mark, who is dumbfounded. Allie, however, shakes her head upon seeing that message.
“He’s THE moron, yeah, I’ve said it. I ain’t scared of firing a shot back, and I hope Darring was watching, because he’ll wipe the floor with that pretender, any day of the week. He is the one who hasn’t faced anyone. Seen his record? Unbeaten in how many? The Mark could’ve beaten most of them and you would’ve beaten them all, Lucas, even though you’re retired,” Allie rants.
“WOW,” The Mark finishes, thought it’s unsure whether that’s because of Allie’s speech, Jonny’s words or just seeing the wrestler appear on GLOBAL television, well pay-per view technically.
BEST OF BRITISH V METAL MILITIA
The rousing fanfare of “Rule Britannia” echoes across the Globe to not much reaction at all. A few sections begin to jeer, but mostly, the welcome the two men and one woman who emerge through the curtain receive is marked by indifference, rather than any particular form of love or hate, making “Downtown”’s introduction all the more clearly audible.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for…”
“…ONE FALL!” As ever, the crowd comes alive for the ring announcer’s call-and-response, if nothing else. “Downtown” is therefore seen grinning as he continues.
“Introducing first, from London, England, at a combined weight of four hundred and forty pounds, the team of Rupert Royston-Fellowes and Nigel Kensington III…the BEST! OF! BRITISH!”
This visibly does not sit well with either half of the pair, with the blond wrestler in particular scowling and frowning in every direction as he begins to follow his team-mate and manager down the entryway. The darker-haired man appears more agreeable, though visibly confused, and leans over to exchange some words with the short but dynamic woman in a blinding canary-yellow suit walking one step ahead of him. Whatever inaudible reply she gives appears to assuage him, if only momentarily, and the trek to ringside is only disrupted when the blond half of the duo stops to flirt with a fan in the front row. The woman, however, appears less than responsive to his advances, going so far as to smack him across the face as he tries to kiss her hand. The close-up camera catches a flash of anger coursing behind the man’s eyes, as well as the bristling of his body, but before he can fully react to the moment, his partner is there, leading him away while apologising to the offended woman. The two men then exchange quiet, yet visibly heated words for a moment, stopping only to ascend the steps into the ring, where their associate already awaits them.
“Tonight is a night of returns, ladies and gentlemen. After Trouble Roxx have had their first match in three months earlier tonight, we are now set to see the Best of British have their first match in almost SIX months!”
“And facing Metal Militia, no less – another team who hasn’t competed in several weeks!”
“That’s right, Allie. From what I heard, though, the Best of British have been keeping busy on both the interview and the charity event circuit, both here in LA and in their native country of England.”
“Well, neither of those helps make you a better wrestler…just saying.”
Before any of the announcers can give any further thoughts, the blonde woman brings the microphone to her lips, her dazzlingly white smile glistening under the lights.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Kerry Buckingham, and I represent the fine young gentlemen behind me, Mr. Fellowes and Mr, Kensington.”
The woman indicates each man in turn, the crowd remaining divided between indifference and light jeering as each of them steps forward.
“Now, ahead of their scheduled contest this evening, these two fine young gentlemen would like to make it known they will be donating the entirety of the match purse to their opponents, in a gesture of solidarity. Thank you.”
Some cheers can be heard this time, even as the blond man splutters in clear disagreement, forcing his partner to once again attempt to calm him down. The blonde woman is, however, oblivious to all this as she steps out of the ring and to the outside, leaving the squared circle to her two associates, who continue to confer in hushed whispers as they wait for their opponents.
And they do not have to wait long at all, for a few moments later, the intro riff to Metallica’s “Metal Militia” heralds the arrival of the team of the same name, accompanied, as ever, by big sister Hayley. The three youngsters are met with a much warmer reception than their opponents as they stop just outside the curtain to crack cans of beer together and engage in a collective headbanging session, complete with dual sets of finger-horns, before racing down the entryway to ringside, slapping every hand in sight. “Downtown” Brown does the honors, as ever.
“And their opponents…from Pine Bluff, Arkansas…at a combined weight of three hundred pounds…and accompanied to the ring by Hayley ‘The Raven’ Robinson…Chris Brutalizer and Aiden Destruktor…the ME-TAAAAAALLLLL MI-LI-TIAAAAAAA!”
“Much like their opponents, the Robinsons have been somewhat absent from recent GLOBAL cards, but here they have their first-ever Pay-Per-View opportunity, and they’ll want to make the most of it!”
“You said it, Mark. A win here tonight could significantly improve the position of these young men and woman within the GLOBAL roster…”
“…but first, they’ll have to get past two opponents trying to make their own name well-known…”
As the announcers discuss the repercussions of this match for the Robinsons, the two boys enter the ring, each scaling one turnbuckle from which to stretch their arms out to the crowd. This, predictably, elicits yet another round of cheering from the crowd, which subsides only when Chris Brutalizer retreats behind his corner, leaving younger brother Aiden Destruktor to face off against Rupert Royston-Fellowes.
“The biggest and smallest competitors in this matchup starting us off…and it’s worth noting that Rupert Royston-Fellowes weighs almost two-thirds more than Aiden Destruktor.”
“Yes, Aiden is undersized…but he has that quickness that is very hard to counter, unless you’re quick yourself…”
As though to give credence to Mark Deltzer’s words, Destruktor has the early advantage over Fellowes, dodging out of the way of his opponent’s attempt at offence and pulling a face at him when Rupert glares in his direction. This repeats twice more, with the youngster clearly amusing himself, before a scathing comment from Hayley on the outside makes him stop and actually connect with a move, on this occasion a dropkick to the back. Rupert stumbles, but is able to pivot his body into a roundhouse kick…only for Aiden to slide in and take his supporting foot from under him with a leg sweep! This actually draws a chuckle from the crowd, though Hayley appears less impressed, reinforcing the need for her brother to “stop BLEEPing around and be serious”. To this, Aiden responds only with a mock-salute and a bow, before turning back to face his opponent…
…and being thrown over with a big German suplex!
Hayley’s cry of “I done tole you!” is still audible above the crowd reaction, as both Aiden and Fellowes roll through to their feet, the former swinging a clothesline, but instead getting caught with one himself! Rupert then profits from his opponent’s prone position to connect with a few stomps, before his partner intervenes and talks him out of it. The blond half of the team is visibly reluctant to relinquish the opportunity, but does eventually, begrudgingly comply, sulkily stepping away from his opponent and giving him the space to pull himself back to his feet. Even still, the moment Aiden is back on his feet, Rupert is on him again, yanking him up by the hair. Aiden attempts a headbutt, but Rupert merely laughs it off, tossing the youngster back-first into the turnbuckle for his audacity, then connecting with a running clothesline, which pins Aiden to the ring post. He back up again, then rushes in once more for a knee strike, before delivering a rapid-fire sequence of forearm shots to the face of his young opponent.
“Brutal spell of offence by Rupert Royston-Fellowes…and now a poke to the eye of Aiden Destruktor!”
This time, there IS a reaction from the stands – a negative one. Rupert does not seem too bothered by it, but his partner appears to think differently, and begins urging him not to go any further. Rupert visibly sulks over this, shrugging his shoulders petulantly, but Nigel Kensington stands firm, until, eventually, it all becomes too much for the blond, who tags his partner in and goes to sulk behind the turnbuckle!
“Tag made to Nigel the Third, as the Best of British continue to attempt to cut the ring in half.”
Nigel, however, appears to go about it somewhat differently, as, rather than keep Destruktor trapped in the corner, he pulls the youngster out and sends him flying with a German suplex. Destruktor sees a lifeline – as do the rest of the crowd – and begins to crawl towards his corner, but this is where Nigel’s real plan is revealed, as he hits the youth from behind with a clothesline, taking him down. The jeers from the crowd, which had died down with Rupert’s exit from the ring, intensify again as Nigel lifts Destruktor up, then floors him again with a crisp belly-to-belly suplex. He rolls through to his feet, waits for Destruktor to do the same, then steps in once again, setting up and then delivering a butterfly suplex! Back the other way goes Destruktor, as Nigel bridges into a pin!
ONE!
TW—ild kickout by Destruktor!
“Kickout by Destruktor there, but I have to admit, Nigel Kensington is showing some real skill here. I had both of them pegged as the cheating and shortcuts type, but I may have to revise my opinion of them…”
“How could you have pegged them as anything? They’ve had all of, what, two matches?”
“First impressions, Mark. First impressions.”
As the announcers banter, in the ring, Nigel continues to punish Destruktor, this time setting him up for a delayed vertical suplex; he stalls for so long, however, that his young opponent is able to wriggle out, landing on his feet and immediately pulling Kensington down into a rollup!
ONE!
T—hat is not going to be enough, kid!
Despite his failure to cause an upset, however, Destruktor appears to have been bolstered by this turn of events, and once again manages a dropkick to Nigel’s back. Rather than mug for the crowd, however, he follows it up this time, connecting with a bulldog which faceplants Kensington the Third. The camera focuses in on Hayley’s appreciative expression on the outside., as her brother pulls himself back to his feet, then springboards into a diving headbutt, which connects with the back of Kensington’s head.
This time, Destruktor does allow himself a moment of celebration, before climbing the turnbuckle, looking for a cannonball senton; Kensington, however, is sufficiently aware to roll out of the way, and the youngest of the Robinson brothers connects back-first with nothing but canvas!
“Nigel Kensington presented with an opening here…and he is not about to waste it! Tag made to Rupert Royston-Fellowes!”
Indeed, the blond member of Best of British is brought back into the match by his somewhat woozy partner, and wastes no time cutting Aiden off yet again. What little space to move the Metal Militia member had found is taken away once again, as Rupert shoves him to the post across from his team’s corner and once again unleashes with a barrage of various strikes, with particular emphasis on forearms to the face and knees to the gut. He then whips the youngster across to his own team’s corner, shouting an instruction to Nigel, before rushing in with a running knee…
…that Aiden dodges!!
The look on Rupert’s face is a mixture of surprise and anger as he hops around on one foot for a moment, clutching his knee in pain; then, remembering he is in a match, he turns around…
….or would have, had he not been rolled up yet again! Referee Danielle Harris slides in to count…
ONE!
T—oo soon, kid!
Now legitimately angry, Rupert aims a kick at his fellow blond, which pushes him to a seated position, leaving him prone to a second, which takes him down. On the outside, Hayley looks on worriedly as Fellowes begins to stomp all over her brother, then caps it off with a brutal curbstomp, completing a solo variant of the move known as The Downtrodding. He then pulls the youth away from the corner and covers!
ONE!
TWO!
—Brutalizer breaks up the pin!
“Aiden saved by his brother in this instance, but how much more punishment can he take before he folds?”
“I guess we’re going to find out, Mark…”
Indeed, Rupert appears to have no intention of lightening up on his offence, as he yanks Destruktor to his feet and connects with a backbreaker. He then begins attempting to set up a Boston Crab, facing towards the ropes while his opponent faces away, but Destruktor is able to kick up, throwing off Fellowes’ balance and preventing him from locking in the hold. Destruktor wastes no time slipping out of it, and almost immediately begins crawling full-tilt across the mat, looking for the tag to his brother; Fellowes, however, thinks quickly on his feet, and is able to reach in and lock in the Boston crab second time around! He attempts to pull Destruktor further from his corner, but the youngster continues to strain in the other direction, his hands now mere inches from his brother’s. Rupert cinches in the hold, drawing a yell of pain from his young opponent, but still Aiden fights on, looking for a tag.
“There’s that backyard grit these boys are known for…”
“Love it or hate it, backyard wrestling gives you several useful skills, endurance and toughness being two of the main ones.”
“And those are precisely the attributes that could help Destruktor her—YES!! Tag made to Chris Brutalizer!!!”
The crowd roars as the older of the two performing Robinson brothers comes in, immediately breaking Fellowes’ hold on his brother, before connecting with a dropkick to the Brit’s face. Rupert goes careening into the ropes, and Brutalizer reacts quickly, connecting with a clothesline which throws the Brit up and over. Rupert manages to hang on and skin the cat, however, and is soon back on the apron…where Brutalizdr is waiting with an elbow shot to the face! This causes Fellowes to drop down from the apron, clutching his nose region in utter shock. He tries to put some distance between himself and his opponent, but Brutalizer has other ideas, launching across the ring and meeting him on the other side with a baseball slide, which connects with Fellowes’ side and sends him tumbling into the barricade. The Brit barely manages to hold on, but his opponent does not let up, sliding all the way out of the ring to meet him on the outside with another clothesline, which sends him over the barricade and onto the floor, in the middle of the fans!
“Great spell of momentum by Brutalizer, using that brawling style to take Rupert Royston-Fellowes out of his comfort zone and stay on top of him…”
“He may be just as inexperienced as his brother, and barely out of his teens himself, but in this case, a couple of years’ maturity make all the difference.”
Indeed, Chris Robinson’s approach to the match is diametrically different from his brothers’, with the youngster showing focus and drive where Aiden had exhibited childish clowning. Perhaps this explains the difference in fortunes between the two, with Aiden finding himself mostly at the receiving end of offence, while Chris manages to remain on top, now throwing Fellowes into the apron ahead of tossing him back in the ring to break the referee’s count. He then leaps over the ropes to connect with a rare high-flying move, in this case a double-footed stomp to the back.
“Brutalizer using Fellowes as his personal landing pad, as the Metal Militia continue to enjoy the upper hand.”
Having taken a page from his brother’s book, the youngster now seeks to return to his usual style, pulling Rupert up to his feet and pinning him to the turnbuckle, perhaps looking to enact revenge for the treatment the blond Brit subjected Aiden to moments earlier. There follows a sequence of ten punches, which – while successful – is somewhat marred when Rupert manages to lift Brutalizer up in the air, take a few steps out of the corner, and throw the redneck down onto the mat with a powerbomb!
“Fellowes back in this match with a bang, and could this be a turning point for the Best of British?”
The run of offence from Brutalizer appears, however, to have taken a considerable toll on Rupert Royston-Fellowes, who pauses only to connect with a stomp to the fallen youth before making a stumbling beeline to the corner to tag in his partner. It is, therefore, Nigel Kensington III Brutalizer is faced with when he finally manages to bring himself back up to a vertical base, and it is from Nigel that he receives the running Superkick which immediately takes him back down to the mat again, to the shock and surprise of the crowd.
“ETIQUETTE LESSON, FROM OUT OF NOWHERE!!!”
“That’s got to be it for Brutalizer!”
Nigel clearly appears to think the same, judging by the way he immediately drops down on top of his opponent for a cover. Referee Gabby slides in to count..
ONE!
Destruktor begins to enter the ring…
…but has his jorts grabbed by Kerry Buckingham!
“WAIT A MINUTE!!”
TWO!
Hayley Robinson notices this, and comes rushing around the ring to barrel into the Best of British’s manager…
…but just a moment too late to prevent her brothers’ opponents from getting the…
THREE!
…and the big Pay-Per-View win!
“Kerry Buckingham running a distraction, and ensuring her team gets the win in this hard-fought contest against Metal Militia!”
“Do the Robinsons have reason to feel hard done by here?”
“I don’t know, Quinn. I mean, sure, Destruktor might have broken up the pin, but after that kick, this match was as good as over…”
“Maybe so, Mark, but even still, Kerry Buckingham proving a decisive factor here, as her team return to the GLOBAL ring with a bang!”
“If her intention was to have them be well-liked, she failed. Listen to this crowd…!”
Indeed, the crowd are giving Nigel, Rupert and Kerry a piece of their mind as the trio have their hand raised in the center of the ring by referee Gabby Harris, and their name announced as winners by “Downtown” Jason Brown. The boos turn to an explosion of cheers, however, when the three Robinsons creep up from behind the Best of British, tap the opposing trio on the shoulder, to get their attention, then – as they turn around – drench them in beer from recently shaken cans!!
“THE ROBINSONS TAKE REVENGE!!”
“And these fans are loving it!”
“I don’t know, guys…isn’t that a bit like being sore losers?”
“They’re just having fun, Mark. Leave them alone!”
It is with the announcers arguing the merits of the Robinsons’ actions, and the trio in question engaging in a chug-a-thon in the corner, as their opponents splutter and scramble to pick themselves up under the derisive laughter of the crowd, that the feed cuts away from the arena.
She had lost her job, her apartment, her boyfriend had left her, and her father had cut her off.
It had been quite the week for Tennessee.
Now she found herself propping up the bar up the block from her old apartment, her car, which now doubled as her new apartment, was parked around back and she had just spent her last $5 on one last beer.
She wasn’t exactly a ten-out-of-ten, but she was a pretty girl. Twenty pounds overweight, mostly on her tits and chins, with long brunette hair tied back in a loose ponytail. If she had made any effort at all, she might be considered good looking, but as it stands she is wearing light grey jogging pants and a black hoodie with the words “LEGENDARY OATMEAL” printed across the front.
Still, this is a mans world, and it was nearly 3am in a dive bar in downtown New York. It therefore makes complete sense that the following things happened:
- A man with a bag of potato chips on his head bought her another drink
- He asked if she came here often
- He asked where she lived
- He asked if he could have a tour of the place sometime
And now she finds herself in the back of her station wagon being ploughed by a dude who refuses to take the bag of chips off his head and insists she calls him Doritos Man. Still. His cock was huge, and he had a pretty good idea of how to sling it around.
Quite the week, indeed.
"THE LEGEND" SEAN DARRING Vs. JERRY DAVID
WORLD TITLE
STEEL CAGE MATCH
The arena lights dim, with the exception of a few spotlights that illuminate a small band set up just off-centre on the top of the stage. A guitarist, a keyboardist, and a bass player. They play some introductory music as if this was The Late Show.
Standing in the centre of the ring, surrounded by the mesh of the cage, Marcus Anthony Newman announces the challenger for the GLOBAL World Heavyweight Championship.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for your main event of the evening. Introducing first, from New York City, New York, weighing in at two hundred and nine pounds… He is the comedian who packs a punch. The joker who ain’t joking. Ladies and Gentlemen, Jerry David!”
Jerry David steps out onto the stage wearing a long navy blue robe. Beneath it, he wears his trademark white trunks, boots, knee pads, and elbow pads. His eyes are completely black, glazed as if they were freshly fired glass. He grins from ear to ear, pointing toward the black afro-donned keyboardist. The keyboardist gives an overly enthusiastic smile and waves back at Jerry.
The crowd is not smiling. Boos echo around the arena, drowning out the musicians’ introductory music.
Jerry seems not to notice the boos and grins all the way to the ring. He walks up the ring steps and steps through the cage door, swooshing his robe as he gets into the ring via the ring ropes.
Slowly, his musicians fade their music to nothing. Soon enough, they will pack up their gear and head home for the evening – another job well done.
“And now, introducing…”Marcus Anthony Newman begins, as Final Countdown by Europe begins, “Your defending GLOBAL Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion. Hailing from Miiiiiiiiiiiami. Florida. Weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds. He is “The LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGEND”… Sean Darring!”
“The Legend” Sean Darring steps out onto the stage wearing… wait…
He’s wearing the same robe as Jerry David.
A bizarre bit of head games. But by who? Jerry or Darring?
Jerry David beams a smile in the ring, turning to show his back to the ramp just as Darring takes a slow 360-degree spin at the top of the ramp.
Darring raises his arms, lifting the title above his head. On his back, the letters read “Legend”.
But so too does Jerry’s.
As Darring completes his 360-degree turn, he sees Jerry standing with his back facing Darring, a thumb reaching across his back to point at the word emblazoned on his robe.
Darring stops for a moment, dropping the title down to his shoulder, and stares at the back of the opponent who has, week after week, got the better of him one way or another.
Is doubt creeping into the mind of the champion?
He continues towards the ring, slapping the hands of a few fans but never taking his eyes off David, who slips the robe off to the canvas and takes a cross-legged seat in his corner.
Darring walks to the steps and enters the ring through the cage door, stepping through the ropes. He takes the championship from his shoulder, folding the straps in on themselves, and takes a long, loving look at the belt as it lies across his pals. He then hands his GLOBAL World Heavyweight Championship to tonight’s official, Aaron Powell.
As Darring’s music fades and he removes his robe, Aaron Powell holds the title aloft.
The cage door is closed as Powell hands the title out of the cage to the second official, former police officer Shane Staggs.
Ding, ding.
The bell sounds, and Jerry David unfolds himself, getting to his feet.
Two technical wrestlers circle one another, each looking for the first opening. David biding his time, Darring surely apprehensive about what may happen during the course of the match with this unhinged version of his opponent.
The two men lunge at one another, locking their arms in a traditional tie-up. They push at one another, locked in a stalemate for a few moments before the bigger man takes the advantage. Darring pushes David backwards into the corner, slowly pushing his arms into the air and…
SLAP!
A massive slap across the chest of Jerry David!
“Woo!” the crowd screams.
Darring wastes no time, spinning 360 degrees and aiming a clothesline at David, but David ducks, rolls, and lands on his feet. Darring is now standing prone in the corner.
David charges. Running knee strike to the temple of Darring!
NO!
Darring leans back, the knee sailing past his nose.
David lands on his feet, his back now facing the cornered Darring, who locks in a waist lock, pushing his foe forward, looking for a German sup–
David drops to the ground, tripping Darring’s legs by hooking his feet into a drop-toe hold.
David leaps on the back of Darring. A technical match so fa–
And SMASHES his nose into the canvas.
Once, twice, three times!
Darring’s nose bursts open, blood dripping from his nose as David climbs up his back and smashes repeated forearms across Darring’s face.
Darring manages to roll onto his back, covering his face with a boxing guard. David continues to pound away with closed fists at the face of Darring despite the guard blocking the majority of the blows.
David looks around the arena. Fans boo him.
What happened to this man? A man who once stood up for his principles against E Z Rah? A man who defended the GLOBE against the otherworldly Jester, banishing him to hell? Now he looks… different. Paler, further away.
Darring takes advantage of David’s distraction, picking his leg and rolling him over onto his back. Darring leaping to his feet, keeping hold of the ankle.
Leg drop to the knee of David!
Jerry David rolls in agony, grasping at the knee.
Darring is quick to drag David up to his feet so he can capitalise on the injur–
LOW BLOW!
Everything is legal in a steel cage!
Jerry David goes low! Shades of his rivalry with E Z Rah.
Darring arches over in pain, and David is straight to his feet. He grabs the hair and the trunks of Darring and launches him through the ropes, face-first into the mesh of the steel cage!
Darring springs back into the ring.
Boot to the midsection of Darring, who again arches over.
KNEE TO THE FOREHEAD!
Darring flings backwards and collapses as a dead weight.
Darring is breathing differently. He’s out cold!
Jerry David is the NEW World Champion!
GLOBAL Wrestling is forever changed.
But no, of course, Jerry David isn’t finished with Sean Darring. This isn’t even about the world championship. This is about power. About bragging rights. This is about being dominant.
Jerry heads over to the turnbuckle, peeling away the protective cover to unveil the metal beneath.
He turns back to Darring, picking up both of his ankles and STOMPING and what lies between.
Another low blow!
Darring rolls onto his side, his knees bent. He’s awake now, but what an awakening.
David picks up the heavy head of the world champion, pulling him to his feet. He locks in a bear hug, taking a few steps backwards towards the turnbuckle, and BAM! Release belly-to-belly suplex! Darring is flung through the air, his lower back hitting the exposed top turnbuckle!
Darring collapses in a heap.
He is lying prone on the canvas, his body a twisted mess already.
David gestures to the second official to unchain the door, which Shane Staggs does immediately.
David steps easily through the ropes and snatches the chain from Staggs hand!
David gets BACK IN THE RING!
This match was over! He could have walked out, but instead, he just wanted a weapon.
He gets back in the ring, wrapping the chain around his fist, and heads over to Darring.
Jerry David straddles Darring and starts to hammer away with his chain-wrapped fist into the forehead of the champion, splitting his head open. Blood pours in thick waves from his forehead, his nose still bloodied from the beginning of this assault. He has no fight left in him.
After an entire minute of punching, David’s arm tires.
He stops punching and gets to his feet, unwrapping the chain from his fist.
Unbelievably, Darring rolls over, trying to get to his feet.
Jerry David laughs.
Darring crawls on all fours towards David, putting his hand on David’s boot.
David pulls his foot from under Darring’s hand and STOMPS on his fingers!
Darring howls in pain.
David takes a step back and
WHIP! CRACK!
Whips Darring’s back with the chain!
Darring howls once more.
WHIP! CRACK!
Again, he lashes the champion.
And again!
AND AGAIN!
David sits on the back of Darring and wraps the chain around his face, the metal in the mouth of the GLOBAL World Heavyweight Champion. He locks in a Camel Clutch, using the chain to pull Darring’s head upwards.
Darring screams, blood covering his face, dripping across the chain and to the canvas. He reaches out his arms, reaching towards the ropes, but no rope break will be coming – the rules are different here in the cage.
David stands for a moment, locking his feet into the back of Darring’s knees. He stands up and jumps, stomping the knees of Darring into the canvas. Darring yells out again as David quickly re-wraps the chain around Darrings face, pulling him backwards so that he is kneeling up. David lies backward.
MEXICAN SURFBOARD! WITH THE CHAIN AROUND DARRING’S MOUTH!
Darring is screaming. His arms flail around for as long as David is able to hold the surfboard.
Darring is unceremoniously dropped to the canvas, where he lies on his face.
David does a kip-up, showing that he is still full of energy and ready to inflict more damage in this one-sided assault. He reaches his arms out and smiles at the audience, slowly turning around the ring, seemingly wanting to look every single booing audience member in the eye one by one.
The lights in the arena go out.
The building is pitch black for around thirty seconds.
When the lights come back up, Jerry David is standing holding a barbed wire two-by-four. Around the ring, there are steel chairs, garbage cans, stop signs, kendo sticks, and a barbed wire table set up in the corner.
Who did this?
Who can manipulate time and space in such a way as to deliver so many weapons in so little time?
Could it be? Is he here?
Has Jerry David signed away his soul to the devil himself, Doritos Man?
Sean Darring stirs. He looks around, his eyes widening, his mouth falling open aghast.
He rushes towards David but is quickly smashed across the forehead with the barbed two-by-four!
He stumbles backwards, holding his forehead.
David tosses the club and instead runs against the ropes, charging back towards Darring, who looks up just in time to see THE PUNCHLINE! Superman punches the bloodied face of Sean Darring.
Darring is down on his stomach again!
Jerry David stands over, Darring for a moment before grabbing a steel chair from the canvas.
He raises it above his head and SMACK! Into the back of Darring’s head, the chair cracks. And again, and again.
He tosses the chair down and scoops Darring’s legs up, cradling them beneath his armpits. He turns Darring so that his head is in the centre of the ring.
Slingshot!
Darring’s head ricochets off the cage!
Darring lands on his feet between the cage and the ropes, holding the top rope for support.
David seizes the opportunity, again charging across the ring.
THE PUNCHLINE!
NO!
Darring steps back, and David punches the steel cage!
David jogs around the ring, holding his damaged knuckles.
Darring steps back into the ring.
Spear! Darring takes down David with a spear! A desperation move from Darring!
Darring leaps back to his feet.
He drops an elbow into the heart of David, who jolts on the mat.
Back to his feet, a second elbow.
Back to his feet, a third!
This tires the champion out, and both men lie next to one another on the mat.
Darring is the first to move. He slowly rolls onto all fours and crawls to the ropes, dragging himself to his feet.
Good Lord – Jerry David just did another kip up to his feet.
Darring turns around.
SUPERKICK!
NO!
Darring ducks the superkick aimed at his face.
Darring grabs David’s head from behind.
Falling Sleeper Hold from Darring!
Great move from a seasoned veteran. He keeps hold of the head and locks in a sleeper hold. He manoeuvres around, trying to lock his legs around the torso of David.
It’s locked in.
A sleeper hold to slow the pace of the match down is a great technical move from the champion who, despite how it may look, clearly still has his ring awareness.
Jerry holds his arms out. Now, it is his turn to look for a rope break.
Slowly, the arm movements of Jerry fade, and he goes limp.
Darring gives another few good tugs away at the neck of Jerry David before relinquishing the hold and taking a moment to breathe.
Darring gets to his feet and looks at the cage door.
The fans cheer as he gets to his feet, standing over Jerry.
He takes a look at his opponent, napping on the canvas, then back to the door.
He takes a step towards the door – freedom in sight and–
LOW BLOW!
Jerry David was playing opossum!
David launches Darring over the top rope and into the cage face-first again.
Darring bounces back into the ring.
David runs him straight across the ring, launching him again over the top and face-first into the cage!
And back across the ring, into the cage once more.
Darring stumbles into the middle of the ring and collapses.
David locks in a waistlock and hoists Darring back to his feet.
German suplex!
David rolls through.
German suplex!
He rolls through again but sees something at the top of the ramp.
Is that?
He relinquishes the waistlock and drops Darring to the mat.
Surely not.
Rushing down the ramp is…
…Steve Blaine!
A bandage across his head, wearing a GLOBAL polo shirt and blue jeans, one of Jerry David’s victims appears to be coming for retribution.
Steve waves his hands at Shane Staggs, and Staggs happily swings the unlocked cage door open.
David rushes towards the door, throwing himself between the middle ropes towards Blaine…
Who whips out a taser and tases the FACE of Jerry David!
David staggers backwards into the ring.
LOW BLOW!
A truly desperate move from Darring, who is up on his knees, his forearm through the legs of Jerry David!
Steve Blaine is GETTING IN THE RING!
Desperate times are clearly calling for desperate measures here at The Last Laugh Pay-Per-View!
Blaine picks up a Kendo stick.
He aims it at David, who is still arched, still hooked on the end of Darring’s arm.
Darring shoves David forward. Blaine aims his shot, swinging the kendo stick.
BAM!
Jerry David boots Steve Blaine straight through the chest, flattening him to the canvas! Simultaneously, he snatches the kendo stick from his hand. He spins on his heels and smashes it into the face of the kneeling champion, Darring.
Darring arches backwards, but stays on his knees.
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
Darring slouches to the canvas.
David turns around and looks at Blaine, who is rolling around and holding his chest.
David scoops him up and clubs him across his back.
Blaine collapses back to the mat.
David scoops him up AGAIN.
He tucks the head of Steve Blaine under his legs, setting him up for a… POWERBOMB!
David raises Blaine up onto his shoulders and runs across the ring, tossing him STRAIGHT THROUGH THE BARBED WIRE TABLE!
NO!
He isn’t a wrestler!
He isn’t a competitor!
Jerry David doesn’t give a DAMN!
Steve Blaine screams in pain, tangled in the barbed wire.
And Jerry David is laughing!
He holds his side, laughing maniacally.
He turns, still laughing…
Straight into a steel chair shot!
Sean Darring stands over Jerry David, blood still wet on his face, smeared across his chest.
Jerry David sits bolt upright, still laughing.
SMACK!
Another chair shot. David is out!
No… He sits up again and laughs aga–
SMACK!
Down he goes again.
Darring tosses the chair and leaps on David, smashing him in the face over and over.
David stops fighting back. Stops covering up.
Darring gets to his feet, out of breath, beaten, bloodied, and the first thing he does isn’t leave the cage to retain his title… The first thing he does is check on his old friend Steve Blaine.
He helps Blaine up from the barbed wire and carries him towards the cage door.
But who is standing between them and their exit?
Jerry David.
Darring steps forward, swinging a right.
SMACK!
David retaliates with his own.
SMACK!
And back and forth they go, exchanging blows.
ZZZZAP!
Jerry David hits the canvas, jerking around.
Steve Blaine stands over him, holding the taser!
Darring looks at his old friend.
Blaine looks back.
They embrace in a hug, Blaine still grasping the taser.
FINALLY, Jerry David has gone to sleep.
And now “The Legend” Sean Darring can have the LAST LAUGH by leaving here tonight the reigning, defending GLOBAL World Heavyweight champion.
Darring gestures for Blaine to get out of the ring first. He steps through the ropes and drops out of the ring via the cage door.
Just then, Sean Darring turns and looks down at Jerry David.
The champion isn’t done with Jerry David!
With Jerry David out cold and lying on his stomach, Darring locks in a scissor lock to David’s arms. He rolls in the same direction on David’s head, forcing his body up at an angle where his neck supports his body weight. As he does so, Darring tries to hyperextend David’s elbow across his body.
THE LEGEND LOCK!
Darring locks in his finisher, a submission hold. Adding insult to injury!
He relinquishes the move and rolls towards the cage door, sliding out of the bottom rope and straight out of the cage door, landing on his feet.
The bell sounds.
Ding, ding, ding!
Marcus Anthony Newman makes the announcement as “The Legend” Sean Darring’s music plays through the PA system, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, and STILLLLLLLL GLOBAL Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion… “THE LLLLLLLLEGEND” SEANNNNNN DARRINNNNNNNG!”
Darring and Blaine wrap an arm across one another’s shoulders as Darring is handed his World Championship.
He raises it above his head as the fans cheer loudly, his music almost entirely drowned out.
He has seen off arguably his most difficult opponent, certainly his most violent one. He has come out on top, seemingly against the odds, after weeks of treachery and turmoil.
He remains the GLOBAL World Heavyweight Champi–
BLACK.
The arena lights cut out.
The music of Darring cuts out.
The fans cheers die to an eerie silence.
Camera torches are all that illuminate the arena.
The lights THUD back on.
Sean Darring is done.
Steve Blaine is gone.
The weaponry has gone.
But something new is here… Something or someone.
Doritos Man.
And he is standing on top of the steel cage, holding a microphone.
He looks down at Jerry David, who lies unconscious on the canvas below.
“You were the chosen one, Jerry David. The Man to carry out The Plan. But you let the power I bestowed upon you overtake you, to drown you. And now look at you. Defeated. Alone. And useless.”
“What am I to do, Jerry? What am I to do?”
“It feels as though your time here at GLOBAL Wrestling has come to an unfortunate but absolute end.”
“For what it is worth, I am sorry for what I am about to do. But fate has brought us here, and I am merely the messenger of fate, not its maker. And I come here today with a message for you, Jerry. A message I very much do not wish to deliver. And the message is this…”
“For all of us, our time comes. Today, your time has come.”
“Goodbye, Jerry David.”
THUD.
Lights out.
A few moments pass.
THUD.
The lights come back on, and Doritos Man remains exactly where he was – standing atop the steel cage, only now he is holding up Jerry David, ready to dive from the cage.
PILEDRIVER!
A PILEDRIVER FROM THE TOP OF THE CAGE!
The ring below them collapses in on itself. The two men are lying in a hole in the ring!
THUD.
The lights go out.
THUD.
The lights come on.
And Doritos Man is nowhere to be seen.
EMTs rush to the ring to tend to Jerry David, who isn’t moving. Whose eyes are shut…
The show ends with Jerry David having a neck brace strapped to him.
Will he ever walk again?
Will he ever be the same again?
And what next for the GLOBAL Champion? Where can he go from here? Who will challenge him next for his GLOBAL World Heavyweight Championship?