Anglo Love

 

The HOTV camera pans to a wide shot of a rabid crowd, cheering their heads off in the most iconic arena in Mexico. Airhorns can be heard intermittently from different parts of the building. PWA-02 is ROCKING at Arena Mexico.

Nick Stuart: Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Arena Mexico for PWA-02 Night Two! I’m PRIME Hall of Fame commentator Nick Stuart, and alongside me as always is fellow HOFer, Richard Parker! Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell will call some of the action tonight as well, as will Thunderbolt Smith and Rick Hall.

Richard Parker: But we’re the only ones who REALLY matter, Nick, don’t be afraid to say it!

Nick Stuart: Now, now, Richard, play nice. Anyway, we were supposed to kick off with a High Octane Fighting Club rules match between El Hombre Blanco and The Anglo Luchador, but Blanco couldn’t make it tonight.

Richard Parker: On one hand, I would’ve liked to have seen that mysterious dick-puncher whose identity is locked up so tight that it would take a Dan Brown-novel protagonist to uncrack get beaten by the most annoying man in PRIME. On the other, well, at least we’re spared seeing that annoying ass…

On cue, “Oye Como Va” by Santana hits on the speakers as the crowd goes absolutely apeshit for the one and only Anglo Luchador, who steps out of the curtain in his normal wrestling attire.

Richard Parker: You’ve gotta be kidding me.

The first Intense Champion of the ReVival takes his time, soaking in the cheers from, what he calls it, his “Vatican,” and slapping hands with the raucous fans lining the entryway. Airhorns have reached critical mass at this point

Nick Stuart: Fans love The Anglo Luchador here. He’s toured this country so many times, they’ve accepted him as one of their own.

Richard Parker: Just goes to show the stranglehold the woke cartels have on this country, cheering for this cultural appropriator.

Nick Stuart: Did Steve Solex hand you a pamphlet before the show?

Richard Parker: If I answer this question truthfully, Lindsay Troy might yell at me.

The Luchador reaches the ring and asks for a microphone, which he is obliged with almost immediately. He taps on it to make sure it works, then gives an enthusiastic thumbs up to the crowd, who pops with an enormous RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! He smiles through his mask before lifting the microphone to his mouth.

TAL: Ciudad Mexico, ¿COMO ESTAS?

RAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

TAL: Thank you, thank you. I really wanted to come out here tonight in the greatest venue in the whole world, Arena Mexico, put the pirate millionaire’s son in a headlock, and punch him until he said uncle.

Richard Parker: He can’t say that! He can’t say “pirate millionaire!”

Nick Stuart: I don’t think American copyright extends to Mexico, Richard, so he can. And I personally enjoy it, if you don’t mind me editorializing just a bit here.

TAL: Sadly, El Hombre Blanco could not make it to PWA-02: The Search for More Money.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

TAL: Now, now, I’m not going to speculate. As much as I pray nightly for his entire family taking a big downfall, I’m not going to cast aspersions on him because, as an old teacher of mine in high school said, “Why lie when the truth is much funnier?” I’m sure Mike, uh, I mean, “Hombre” will give us a great reason why he couldn’t make it. But enough about him for now. I’m here for a reason!

Richard Parker: Yeah, to make my life a waking nightmare.

TAL: See, my plane tickets were non-refundable, and even if they were, do you think I would miss an opportunity to visit mi patria adoptiva? Not a goddamn chance!

RAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

TAL: So, I’m here. I’ve got my tights and my boots on. I haven’t had a sip of mezcal since I got off the plane. I did my calisthenics this morning. I’m ready to go, papi. So, if anyone in the back wants to throw down, I welcome the opportunity.

After a few beats, “Keep on Lovin’ You” by REO Speedwagon hits on the PA. Out from the curtains steps “Tough Love” Darin Zion to a chorus of boos once the crowd gets a good look at him. He raises his arms in faux confusion, acting as if the fans in Mexico are in need of a little tough love themselves. He walks to the ring in an eternal eye-roll and slides into the ring, also requesting a microphone.

TAL: You know, Darin, we work for the same company. You could always ask Lindz for a match against me on ReVival.

Zion rolls his eyes again before he puts his microphone to his mouth.

Darin Zion: Excuses, excuses. I can see you TREMBLING in your boots at the prospect of facing the REAL uncrowned Alias Champion, the REAL uncrowned FOREVER PRIME Tag Team Champion, the REAL uncrowned HOW LSD Champion, CHOKING in front of your home crowd here.

TAL: I’m more afraid of food poisoning than you, Zion, and judging by how freely I drink the tap water down here, well…

The crowd laughs.

Darin Zion: Well, then, how about I show you a little TOUGH LOVE?  After all, I think beating you is a REAL opportunity. I can show PWA officials I deserve the next shot at El Hombre Blanco’s HOW LSD Championship…

TAL: Well, there’s like five of you in that company anyway, I’m sure you’ll get a shot within the next few weeks whether or not you win any match here. REGARDLESS, I’m not one to back down so…

The Luchador is interrupted as “The Truth” by OUTRAGE hits, and the grizzled joshi punisher, COMBAT Kabuto marches out with swiftness, focused determination on her face as she slides into the ring, no microphone needed. She stares with dead aim at the Luchador before pointing at him.

COMBAT Kabuto: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Zion starts laughing uproariously as the Luchador with shock puts his hands on his chest in a “Who, me?” gesture.

COMBAT Kabuto: 冗談じゃないよ、マスクマン！ あなたの血が欲しいのです！

Nick Stuart: I don’t know what she just said, but I think she means business.

Richard Parker: My Japanese is rusty, but I think she said something about wanting to kill him dead? Either that, or she wants his recipe for chicken-fried kelp.

TAL: Alright, alright, I’m not one to back down from a challenge. I’ll take on both of y…

Just then, “Godzilla” by Bear McCreary and Serj Tankian hits on the PA and the massive God-Beast, Mushigihara, stomps down to the ring with purpose to loud cheers. He too demands a microphone and receives it.

Mushigihara: Luchador! I remember when you trained me in the art of lucha libre. I am still grateful for those lessons. Forget the loudmouth and this angry woman and let me show you how much I’ve learned since then.

TAL: Jeez, what is this, everyone wants a piece of me? That’s fine, there’s more than enough to go around. Mushi, I get you want the one-on-one time, but you can’t skip the line. But, I mean, what’s more lucha libre than a scramble match?

Voice on PA: A trios match, uce!

Out from the curtain walks PRIME senior official and moonlighting current wrestler Timo Bolamba in his wrestling gear, already with a microphone in hand. The microphone budget for PWA-02 rivals the Dusk-era PRIME smoke machine budget, it seems. Timo keeps speaking as he walks to the ring.

Timo Bolamba: Seriously, you saw at PWA-01 how you and I brought the damn house down against SAIGO. People are STILL talking about that match a half-a-year later!

RAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

TAL: Bud, you said Trios match though. There are only five people here.

As Timo gets in the ring and takes his place next to the Luchador, only one sound can be heard ringing throughout Arena Mexico.

SKREEEEEEEEEEEEE!

From out of nowhere it seems, like a Hawlucha landing on his feet after executing a flawless Flying Press, Rocky De Leon, the Fully Dicked Pterodactyl himself, on the Luchador’s other flank.

TAL: Jesus Christ, Rock, you scared me nearly half to death.

Rocky De Leon: GWOK!

TAL: Alright, alright, I get it, you’re sorry. But next time, you gotta chill out.

Rocky De Leon: SKREE!

TAL: Alright, I accept your partnership too.

Richard Parker: Does, uh, does the Luchador understand what he’s saying?

Nick Stuart: We work for PRIME, and THAT’S what sets off your bullshit detector?

TAL: Well then, I think we have a nice little treat to…

Suddenly, Richie Valens’ iconic tune, “La Bamba” hits the PA.

Nick Stuart: I don’t think we’re done with the people who want in on this, but I’m not familiar with that entrance music…

Out walks a massive figure in blue, playing up for the few fans who know who he is.

Nick Stuart: Oh, that’s El Gran Azul!

Richard Parker: El Gran a-who?

Nick Stuart: He’s a relatively new wrestler. Not much is known about him except that he really likes the color blue.

Richard Parker: I swear to God if he shows up at Tropical Turmoil, I’m going to SCREAM.

The Grand Bluchador bounds to the ring and rolls in, snatching the microphone from a startled-looking Zion.

El Gran Azul: ¡Yo quiero lucha!

The Luchador, Timo, Zion, and Mushi look at him with exasperation. Kabuto has not taken her gaze away from the Luchador since coming out to the ring, while Rocky continues to fidget on the flank of the person who kicked this entire circus off.

Rocky De Leon: SQUAAAAAAAAAAWK!

TAL: I agree, Rocky, this is quite the pickle, but I mean…

Once again, another interruption. This time, “El Temblor” by Marea hits the loudspeakers which can only mean one thing.

Nick Stuart: ANOTHER wrestler? This open challenge is turning into quite the clown car.

Richard Parker: It was a clown car the moment the first guy walked out, if you ask me.

Out from the back stomps El Temblor, who makes a bee-line to the ring, slides under the bottom rope, and pops up. He pulls a microphone from his tights.

El Temblor: EL TEMBLOR REMEMBERS YOUR TREACHERY!

However, it is unclear at whom he is directing his accusation. Everyone in the ring except Timo and Rocky ask “who, me?” Timo is clearly used to this by now, while Rocky is oblivious to anything around him and finds purpose only fidgeting and making pterodactyl noises. Finally, the guy who started all this has had enough.

TAL: Alright, alright, enough! I didn’t think so many people would even be here without having a dance partner let alone come out and want to wrestle little old me. Quite frankly, this is getting all too cumbersome and I just can’t deal without settling down.

YET ANOTHER Voice on the PA: Of course you’re overwhelmed. You went and made something all about yourself like you always do.

Nick Stuart: This is getting just a bit ridiculous.

Richard Parker: Now hold on, this guy is making some salient points.

The confusion in Arena Mexico turns its attention to the entrance, but that befuddlement turns to scorn right quick as soon as the person who spoke that last line enters the arena.

Nick Stuart: Not this guy…

Felix Mullen of SHOOT Project steps out dressed in a full suit of conquistador armor with his ratty beard and mustache (groomed, for once).

Nick Stuart: I know I’ve been editorializing a lot for me, but this guy is a nuisance.

Richard Parker: Well, anyone who annoys the Luchador is alright by me.

Felix Mullen: No one should be surprised that this open challenge has turned into a self-serving masturbation session to assuage the massive ego of The Anglo Luchador. I mean, how much do you want to bet that half of these people in the ring are crisis actors? How much did you pay for Pigpen’s girlfriend to come out and make scowling faces at you? You prick!

COMBAT swings around, turning her murder gaze towards the self-proclaimed King of the SHOOT Project Deathmatch as he continues his slow, clanking march to the ring.

Felix Mullen: Not only have you poisoned my girlfriend’s brain into thinking that she can succeed in this business without me, but you’ve made a mockery of lucha libre! Cultural appropriator! What else will a white male like you colonize?

Richard Parker: Okay, now he’s annoying me.

Felix Mullen: Of course, you’re thinking, Felix! You’re wearing the ultimate uniform of the colonizer, the Spaniard’s armor! Well, that’s because irony is the only language you grotesque fans of lucha libre understand! What a boorish, onanistic “art.” PFFT! Just like the Spanish cleansed the world of the barbaric Aztecs, I, THE KING OF THE DEATHMATCH, am going to cleanse this arena of The Anglo Luchador and all who stand with him. I AM THE CONQUISTADOR!!

Felix tries to lift his leg to get into the ring, but the armor is too restrictive. He maneuvers his way at different angles to try and enter the ring without success. Finally, he says “fuck it” and rolls into the ring. After several attempts at trying to get up to his feet, Temblor and Zion finally lift him back up to an upright position.

Felix Mullen: Thank you. NOW, we have eight wrestlers in this ring and a referee.

He points at Timo, who rolls his eyes.

Felix Mullen: Let’s get this relevos atomicos match started. Who will stand with me against this foul luchador?

The wrestlers all look at each other, and the chatter is unable to be deciphered from observing alone.

Nick Stuart: Rich, I don’t think anyone wants to team with Felix.

Richard Parker: To be fair, the guy is in 16th Century armor. Good for defense, but terrible for mobility. I wouldn’t want to team with him either.

After conferring, everyone fixes their gaze on Mullen. Felix outstretches his arms to receive his allies, but instead, Mushigihara is the first to lunge forward with a big chest bump that sends him to his back.

Nick Stuart: Well, that didn’t go as he planned.

Richard Parker: If he was going to do the Hernan Cortes cosplay, he should’ve gone all the way and thrown smallpox blankets on The Anglo Luchador.

Next to lay boots to Felix is COMBAT Kabuto. Then El Gran Azul, Darin Zion, and El Temblor join in. Rocky, Timo, and the Luchador look on.

TAL: Hey, I don’t think this open challenge thing worked out the way I wanted to. You guys wanna go get tacos?

Timo Bolamba: Yeah, just not fast food tacos. I don’t wanna get in trouble again.

Rocky De Leon: SKREEEEEEEEEE!

TAL: Yeah, Rock, we can go somewhere that has lengua.

The Luchador, the Silencer, and the FDP casually walk out of the ring while the rest of the participants in the ring mercilessly maul Felix Mullen.

Richard Parker: It’s a good thing he’s wearing that armor.

Referees, young boys, and PWA officials all pour out of the back to stop the beatdown.

Nick Stuart: Well, what a beginning to PWA-02 Night Two! I can’t wait to see how the rest of this show shakes out.

FROM ONE CRUMB TO ANOTHER

 

The earth shattering, excitement rousing, show opener comes to a close. The place, Arena Mexico, is going absolutely bananas. The excitement for PWA 2 is through the roof. So much so astronauts in outer space can see the flares the fans are setting off in riotous anticipation of what is to come.

And…

,,,cut to Mr. Bulge himself.

The former High Octane World Champion. The former High Octane LSD Champion. The former FIVE TIME HIGH OCTANE TAG TEAM CHAMPION OF THE WORLD.

REPRESENTING PRIME.

AGAINST HIS WILL.

The Greek GOD of COOL. The righteous, dignified, and eggceptional eggsecutioner of the eGG Bandits.

El Maestro.

Cancer fucking Jiles.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Cancer Jiles: Hola, Mexico. Hola, PWA. Hola, Deontay Wilder. Hola, Papá.

A snicker.

Cancer Jiles: I figured I’d be nice and put everyone’s anxiety to rest by getting us kicked off. I mean, I know HOW you like to worry so go on and take a breath.

A pause.

So all can breathe.

Cancer Jiles: There ya go. Rest easy. The company man is going to come through. The show will be a success. Start counting the money. I am here, and not only that, what I plan to do later on here tonight will ensure the success of many more PWA’s to come.

Another snicker. Not from Jiles, but from someone offscreen. Well, from someone trying to be off screen but failing miserably at it.

Small room.

The COOLYMPIAN continues.

Cancer Jiles: As to what that plan is, and who it involves– I am going to walk across the wings of High Octane’s newest Glasgow Smile. I’m going to embarrass him so badly, so intentionally, that after tonight he’ll never want to leave his little birdcage again.

A pause.

For posterity.

Cancer Jiles: Not for PRIME, but for High Octane.

A nervous, confused, scared fart echoes from off screen. Lucky for ALL in the room the hidden man’s triple fart attack doesn’t smell.

Cancer Jiles: Yes, Conor the Clown will be thankful for what he’s got when I am finished with him. Frankly, I’m going to send him home without the white makeup and that alone is worth 97 Fruitopias.

A haughty, it’s for the kids dammit, thumbs up.

Cancer Jiles: And yes, that’s because his face is going to be yellow from my mist. In turn, IN TURN, High Octane Wrestling will be thankful to me, and in the end that’s all I ever really wanted.

A wink.

Not that you would know, because of the T-Shades.

Cancer Jiles: So, they will get their boy back, closer to becoming a man than ever before. Granted me might not be able to wrestle for a little while, but still. And I will finally get to say to them, to Papa, don’t worry about it. No big deal. Send me another crumb. I know you got quite a few over there.

A last snicker.

Cancer Jiles: It’s COOL.

Cut to the ring.

Kings of the Wild Frontier vs. Masters of the Moscoverse

 

Cut to the broadcast table where Missouri Valley Wrestling announcers Thunderbolt Smith and ‘Long Haul’ Rick Hall are.

Thunderbolt Smith: Hello again everyone, I’m Thunderbolt Smith of the MVW announce crew.  This is ‘Long Haul’ Rick Hall.

Rick Hall: Hey.

Thunderbolt Smith: And following that….well….I wouldn’t quite call it an opening contest so much as a mugging, we are OFFICIALLY ready to get underway with PWA-02 Night Two! We have seven matches on tap for you tonight.

Rick Hall: That’s right, Thunderbolt.

Photos of Boone Daniels and Crockett Davies (Kings of the Wild Frontier) and Kenny Freeman and Randall Schwartz with Ivan Stanislav (Masters of the Multiverse) appear on screen.

Rick Hall: Our opening match will feature a new tag team from MVW… Kings of the Wild Frontier… they’ll be taking on PRIME’s Masters of the Multiverse.

Photos of Scott Stevens and Abe Lipschitz appear on screen.

Rick Hall: Next, we’ll have HOW’s Scott Stevens taking on Abe Lipschitz from PRIME.

Photos: STRONK Godson and Coral Avalon appear next.

Rick Hall: High Octane Wrestling World Champion STRONK Godson will be taking on PRIME’s Five Star Champion Coral Avalon in the next match.

Photos: Joe Bergman and Sage Pontiff

Rick Hall: HOW’s Joe Bergman wrestles in his final match ever tonight as he takes on Sage Pontiff from PRIME.

Photos: Conor Fuse and Cancer Jiles

Rick Hall: After that, HOW’s Conor Fuse takes on PRIME’s Cancer Jiles in singles action.

Photos: Dan Ryan and Jatt Starr, Bowie Abrams and Bradlee Nelson, and Joe Fontaine and Sid Phillips.

Rick Hall: HOW’s Dan Ryan and Jatt Starr, Surf Express Bro from MVW, and Winds of Change of PRIME will face off in a three-way Tornado Tag match to determine the first PWA Tag Team champions.

Photos: Lindsay Troy and Ivan Stanislav, Steve Solex and Christopher America

Rick Hall: And in our main event… President and CEO of PRIME Lindsay Troy will meet HOW’s brand new HOTv champion Steve Solex in a Capture the Flag Match

Thunderbolt Smith: All right, Rick.

It goes pitch black in the arena.

Thunderbolt Smith: And it looks like it’s time to get the show started.

DUM-DE-DE-DUM, DE-DE-DUM-DE-DE-DUM, DE-DAA-DAAAAA
DUM-DE-DE-DUM, DE-DE-DUM-DE-DE-DUM, DE-DAA-DAA-DAA-DAA-DAAAA!

The music (Big and Rich’s ‘Save a Horse- Ride a Cowboy’) starts up and a big flash of light illuminates the arena.  When the lights come back on… Boone Daniels and Crockett Davies are on the stage… looking out at the crowd… sitting on horses.

Rick Hall: Well now…

Boone’s on a black horse; Davies is on a white horse.

Daniels is sporting a Daniel Boone-like coonskin cap, a worn leather jacket and other attire appropriate for a Western frontiersman.

Davies is also dressed in the attire of a Western frontiersman complete with hat and a shotgun slung on his back.

A spotlight shines on MVW’s ring announcer Heather Cooper standing in the center of the ring.

Heather Cooper: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.  TONIGHT’S FIRST MATCH WILL BE…

“ONE FALL!”

Heather Cooper: INTRODUCING FIRST… WEIGHING IN AT A COMBINED WEIGHT OF FOUR HUNDRED AND FIVE POUNDS!  BOONE DANIELS… CROCKETT DAVIES… THE KINGS OF THE WILD FRONTIER!

The crowd roars as a marching band walks in step behind the duo with two flag girls holding up a large banner that reads: ‘SADDLE UP.’

Behind the marching band there’s a group of five women dressed in suit coats and mini-skirts with garters who dance along to the music carrying briefcases in their hands.

Rick Hall: Coming out tonight with quite the entrance.  Almost Rah-like.

The procession moves forward when Big and Rich begin to sing.

Well, I walk into the room
Passing out hundred dollar bills
And it kills and it thrills like the horns on my Silverado grill

Upon closer review, the marching band are all playing banjos and fiddles, marching in step down the ramp towards the ring, led by the ‘drum major’ who leads the way.

And I buy the bar a double round of Crown
And everybody’s getting down
An’ this town ain’t never gonna be the same

Daniels and Davies appear relatively calm, perched on their respective horses, oblivious to the circus behind them, making their way down towards ringside.  This is their first real big boy match of their career and it’s in front of sixteen thousand people.

Cause I saddle up my horse
And I ride into the city
I make a lot of noise
Cause the girls
They are so pretty

We also see a farm girl driving a large, green John Deere tractor down the ramp and a cowgirl dance team… dance… behind her, trailing the rest of the group.

Riding up and down Broadway
On my old stud Leroy
And the girls say
Save a horse, ride a cowboy
Everybody says
Save a horse, Ride a cowboy

Daniels and Davies approach the ringside area.  They slowly guide their horses down the aisle at a leisurely stroll.

Well I don’t give a dang about nothing
I’m singing and Bling-Blinging
While the girls are drinking
Long necks down!

Arriving at ringside, Daniels and Davies circle the ring followed by the marching band and the girl driving a tractor.  The five women dressed in business suitcoats and the cowgirl dance team climb into the ring to do their dance routine there.

And I wouldn’t trade ol’ Leroy
Or my Chevrolet for your Escalade
Or your freak parade
I’m the only John Wayne left in this town

Daniels and Davies stop at the ring steps and dismount from their horses.  Two horse wranglers take the reigns and guide the animals back up the ramp to the back.

Cause I saddle up my horse
And I ride into the city
I make a lot of noise
Cause the girls
They are so pretty

The marching band and the tractor both start back up the ramp.  Daniels and Davies are now in the ring in the corner trying to stay out of the way of the elaborate dance routine going on in the ring.

Riding up and down Broadway
On my old stud Leroy
And the girls say
Save a horse, ride a cowboy
Everybody says
Save a horse, Ride a cowboy
What? What?

Boone and Crockett raise their arms at the ‘What? What?’ part.

Thunderbolt Smith: What?

Rick Hall: Yeah, that was a little awkward looking.

Thunderbolt Smith: At least both youngsters are getting a laugh out of that.

They begin to remove the cowboy garb and get down to their wrestling trunks.

Save a horse ride a cowboy
Everybody says
Save a horse ride a cowboy

The dancers quickly make a hasty exit leaving Boone Daniels and Crockett Davies in their corner to talk strategy one final time. As the Kings continue to warm up, we see a whole different sort of visual…the symbol of the Red Army, bringing our attention back to the entranceway for the arrival of the Kings’ opponents.

Heather Cooper: AND THEIR OPPONENTS…

A trap remix of the Soviet Union national anthem plays throughout the arena as Kenny Freeman steps out onto the stage, pushing the wheelchair of Randall Schwartz with Red Army leader Ivan Stanislav standing next to the duo.

Heather Cooper: ACCOMPANIED TO THE RING BY… THE RUSSIAN BEAR… IVAN STANISLAV-

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Heather Cooper: WEIGHING IN TONIGHT AT A COMBINED WEIGHT OF THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIX POUNDS… KENNY FREEMAN! RANDALL SCHWARTZ! THEY ARE THE MASTERS OF THE MOSCOW-VERSE!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

They arrive at the top of the ramp, where Randall asks Kenny to take a pause for the cause as the crowd shows their disdain for the trio in their presence.

Thunderbolt Smith: What’s going on here, now?

Rick Hall: They’re basking in the jeers from this crowd tonight.

And bask they do, the Masters looking rather smug as they nod to their new leader…

Thunderbolt Smith: Ivan Stanislav is big.  REALLY big.

Rick Hall: Bigger than Bill Dickinson even.  And that’s big.

…before Kenny gives a small nudge to Randall’s wheelchair, sending the Entertainer on a joyride down the ramp!

Rick Hall: What in the world…?

Thunderbolt Smith: Randall Schwartz is off his rocker, look at the smile on his face!

Why is Randall smiling, one may ask? Because he slams on his chair’s breaks near the end of the ramp, rolling into a somersault to the floor at ringside…before rising to his feet, revealing that he is quite capable of standing and walking.

This draws even more boos from the crowd, who don’t seem too enthused with the performance as Kenny and Ivan walk down the ramp to ringside.

Rick Hall: Randall can walk! It’s a miracle!

Thunderbolt Smith: We found out after PRIME’s ReVival 29 event that Randall Schwartz was cleared to compete tonight, and it looks like Randall has removed any doubt of his capabilities as the Masters of the Moscowverse look to make a statement at the expense of the Kings of the Wild Frontier.

Rick Hall: Thunderbolt, after Kenny Freeman put down Jack Owyns that same night they want to come out here tonight and prove to Ivan Stanislav that recruiting them to the Red Army was a good idea!

The three of them arrive at the ring now, with Randall sliding into the ring to stare down the Kings as Kenny takes a walk up the steps to enter. The pair starts to mouth off with the Kings as referee Davey Keels does the pre-match check of both teams.

Thunderbolt Smith: MVW’s senior referee Davey Keels will be in charge of this match.

Rick Hall: This will be one of the few times Daniels and Davies will actually out-weigh their opponents.

Thunderbolt Smith: Except Freeman and Schwartz have Ivan Stanislav in their corner.

Rick Hall: He may very well be the difference maker.  We’ll find out how far along Daniels and Davies have come in their young wrestling career.

Keel motions to the timekeeper’s table.

DING DING

Thunderbolt Smith: And night two of PWA-02 is underway.

Boone Daniels and Kenny Freeman to start.

Thunderbolt Smith: Here we go… NO!  It’s SCHWARTZ!

Schwartz runs in behind Freeman and try to catch Daniels by surprise.

SMACK

Thunderbolt Smith: DANIELS WITH A FRONT KICK AND HE NEARLY TOOK SCHWARTZ’S HEAD OFF!

Rick Hall: Alert move by Boone Daniels.

Thunderbolt Smith: Right hands by Daniels and Schwartz is down on the mat.

Daniels reaches out and tags in Crockett Davies.

Thunderbolt Smith: Daniels clubbing Randall Schwartz and makes a quick tag to Crockett Davies.

Davies lands right-hand forearms on Schwartz and Kenny Freeman looks like he’s about to come in.  Keels glances over to him and Freeman holds his fire for the moment.

Thunderbolt Smith: Davies whips Schwartz to the ropes.

Keels starts a five count on Daniels who hasn’t left the ring yet.

Thunderbolt Smith: Drop toehold by Davies.

Daniels runs the ropes on the other side.

Thunderbolt Smith: Big leg drop by Daniels.

Rick Hall: Good teamwork by the King-

Thunderbolt Smith: COVER BY DAVIES

ONE..

TW- Freeman clubs Davies from behind.

Thunderbolt Smith: Kenny Freeman makes the save!

Freeman goes right over to Daniels and dropkicks him off the ring apron.

Thunderbolt Smith: Freeman’s taunting Daniels but he doesn’t see trouble behind him.

Davies taps Freeman on the shoulder.  Freeman turns and…

SMACK

Thunderbolt Smith: RIGHT HAND BY DAVIES!

Rick Hall: That rocked Kenny Freeman!

Thunderbolt Smith: Another right hand by Davies spins Freeman around!

Daniels back up on the apron and he pops Freeman with a left hand.  Daniels holds out his hand and Davies tags in.

Thunderbolt Smith: DAVIES LOADS UP FOR A OVER THE SHOULDER BACKBREAKER!

Ivan Stanislav jumps onto the apron.

Rick Hall: Ivan Stanislav is screaming at Randall Schwartz to get up!

Thunderbolt Smith: Schwartz must have got his bell rung good- Daniels climbs to the top turnbuckle!

Daniels flies through the air.

Thunderbolt Smith: DANIELS GUILLOTINES FREEMAN!

Freeman crash lands on the mat.  Daniels rolls him up but Schwartz is revived and he boots Daniels in the back of the head.

Thunderbolt Smith: SCHWARTZ MAKES THE SAVE!

Rick Hall: Davey Keels didn’t make the count because Freeman wasn’t the legal man in.

Thunderbolt Smith: Now Davies and Schwartz are going at it.  Schwartz down.

Davies gives Schwartz another boot for good measure and then looks to clear out of the ring.

Thunderbolt Smith: Schwartz back on his feet and delivers a forearm shot to Davies.

Davies staggers forward into the ropes but comes right back out.

Thunderbolt Smith: Schwartz whipped into the corner by Davies.  Here he comes.

Davies with a forearm shot to the face in the corner.

Thunderbolt Smith: And Schwartz collapses in the corner.

Davies goes over and tags in Daniels.  Schwartz back to his feet and runs towards them.

SMACK

Thunderbolt Smith: Right hand chop by Boone Daniels catches Randall Schwartz coming in.  Headlock takeover by Daniels but Schwartz counters with a headscissors.

Schwartz releases the hold and goes to his corner to tag Kenny Freeman back in.  Daniels goes over to Freeman.

Thunderbolt Smith: Freeman uses his own foot to block a takedown attempt.  Standing switch by Freeman.  Snap German suplex.

Freeman holds the bridge.

ONE…

Thunderbolt Smith: Davies in and makes the save!

Rick Hall: Randall Schwartz is in the ring now.

Thunderbolt Smith: All four men in the ring.

Davies is throwing down with Schwartz… Daniels is tangling with Freeman.

Thunderbolt Smith: Boone Daniels stomping away on Kenny Freeman.  Rake of the eyes to Schwartz by Crockett Davies.

Davies lifts Schwartz up and slams him to the mat prompting the Russian Bear to climb up onto the ring apron.

Thunderbolt Smith: The Russian Bear is on the ring apron and he doesn’t look too pleased.

Rick Hall: Thunderbolt, Ivan Stanislav is saying words in Russian I don’t believe are family-friendly.

Thunderbolt Smith: OHHH!  Kenny Freeman just went low on Boone Daniels.

Daniels doubles over.  Davies sprints towards Freeman.

Thunderbolt Smith: FREEMAN MOVES!

Davies rams into the turnbuckle.

Rick Hall: He hit that at full speed!

Thunderbolt Smith: Freeman whips Davies into the ropes… HE GOES OVER!

Davies flips over the ropes… but he manages to hold on to the top rope with his hands.

Rick Hall: IVAN STANISLAV LOWERED THE TOP ROPE BUT DAVIES SAVED HIMSELF!

Thunderbolt Smith: Schwartz and Freeman are laying the boots to Daniels.  Davey Keels goes over and tries to break up the two on one.

With Keels’ eyes averted, Stanislav turns to Davies who’s landed right next to him.

Rick Hall: Uh oh.  Not a good place to be.

Thunderbolt Smith: STANISLAV…

…lifts Davies up with one arm…

Rick Hall: Oh boy.

…and with great force launches the youngster into the air and…

BOOM

…through the Spanish announce table at ringside.

Thunderbolt Smith: There’s a Spanish announce table?  I mean… IVAN STANISLAV JUST THREW CROCKETT DAVIES THROUGH A TABLE!

Ivan Stanislav: DYAAHAAHAA!!

Rick Hall: I think it’s safe to say that we’ve just had our first yeeting of the evening.

Thunderbolt turns to him.

Thunderbolt Smith: Yeeting?

Rick Hall: Hey, I did my homework for tonight.

Davies is somewhere in the wreckage of what used to be the Spanish announce table, which opens the door for the Masters to start taking control of the situation.

Thunderbolt Smith: Kenny making the tag back to Randall here, and these two are beating down on Daniels! They’re really taking advantage of Davies being incapacitated.

Rick Hall: And Davey Keels ready to break things up before they get too chaotic. Let them fight!

Kenny backs off, heading back to the apron as Randall goes to work on Daniels, locking in the dreaded chinlock to some jeers from the crowd.

Thunderbolt Smith: Wait, no, Daniels is starting to fight back!

Rick Hall: I don’t believe it, nobody gets out of the chinlock!

Thunderbolt can’t help but shoot a glare at Hall as Daniels gets to his feet…only to be sent to the ropes by the Entertainer, who catches the young man from behind with a sleeper hold yelling “GLAAH-I GOT ‘EM” in the process!

Thunderbolt Smith: Daniels trapped in another hold! Can he get out of the sleeper, or will he pass out?

Rick Hall: Schwartz out here putting on a clinic here in Mexico, Thunderbolt! You love to see it!

Randall cinches the hold in tight, trying to seep all the energy out of Daniels as Keely checks the arm, raising it up once only to watch it fall. Twice…and the arm falls again. And the third time…

Thunderbolt Smith: NO! Daniels keeps his arm up on the third check, indicating he’s still got some fight left in him!

Rick Hall: I’ll give him credit, Daniels has a lot of heart…but can he actually get out of the mess he’s in!?

Daniels hits Schwartz square in the sternum with an elbow shot, finally getting out of the hold as he hits the ropes…hitting a big shoulder tackle on the rebound, sending Randall down to the canvas!

Thunderbolt Smith: Down goes Schwartz! Down goes Schwartz!

Rick Hall: Oh no! Randall may end up back in that wheelchair by the time this is over!

Randall manages to slide back just enough for Kenny to get a blind tag in, before leaping off the ropes to hit a big leg lariat on Daniels!

Thunderbolt Smith: Oh my, what impact by Freeman on that leg lariat! Kenny’s already back to his feet…and he hits a dropkick that sends Daniels to the corner!

Rick Hall: Kenny absolutely precise in his motion and attack tonight, Thunderbolt!

Kenny drags Daniels away from the corner now, turning him onto his stomach before going to work on his overly-complicated submission hold!

Thunderbolt Smith: Freeman Special! PRIME fans will remember this move being put to good use on Jack Owyns at ReVival 29, and Kenny’s got it locked in tight on Daniels now!

Rick Hall: Oh man, if you thought the sleeper hold was something special…ain’t no way Daniels is getting out of this one!

Daniels is struggling, trying to reach for the bottom rope nearby…but he’s completely trapped between the head hold, the wristlock, AND the leg being grabbed!

Thunderbolt Smith: Wait a minute, Davies is finally coming to on the outside…but Ivan and Randall are on the attack!

Rick Hall: There goes the Kings’ chances of winning this one!

And Rick Hall makes the right call, as Daniels has no choice but to tap out! Keels calls for the bell, this one is over!

DING DING DING

Heather Cooper: HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS, AS A RESULT OF A SUBMISSION…KENNY FREEMAN AND RANDALL SCHWARTZ, THE MASTERS OF THE MOOOOSCOOOOWVERRRRSE!

The crowd inside Arena Mexico are none too pleased about this, booing the ever-living hell out of the Masters as Kenny finally releases the hold, allowing Keels to raise his arm in victory. Ivan and Randall slide into the ring, having done the proper amount of damage to Davies on the outside before the Russian Bear raises the arms of his recruits to another chorus of boos from the crowd.

Thunderbolt Smith: What an opening contest this was, folks! The Kings of the Wild Frontier showed a lot of heart in what is essentially their second match in the business, but it was not quite enough to overcome the might of the Masters of the Moscowverse!

The Right Foot

 

The broadcast picks up in the backstage area where Conor Fuse walks the hallway. Fuse sports a dark purple trench coat with various comic book characters printed on it. It looks like Conor just entered the arena and is headed towards his locker room. Once he arrives at a door, he looks at the nameplate and nods, as it reads ‘CONOR FUSE’. The former HOW World Champion pushes the door back…

And reveals none other than Vickie Hall on the other side, standing in the center of the room with her arms crossed. Flanked to her right is her Amazing Life Partner, Jonathan-Christopher Hall and to her left is Darin Zion.

Fuse seems perplexed. He walks out the locker room and looks at the nameplate once again. To his surprise, he was right, it still reads ‘CONOR FUSE’. Then the HOW superstar returns to the inside of the locker room and notices Vickie hasn’t vanished. Her expression hasn’t changed, either. In fact, all three of them are standing there stoically (even though it kind of looks like Jonathan-Christopher lacks confidence).

This time Conor backtracks out of the locker room, continuing to face the trio. He takes another peak at the nameplate. He tilts his head, as a sense of bewilderment crosses his face. Conor strokes his chin, like the 60s cartoon Batman GIF.

Fuse points at his locker room sign. Then he points inside the locker room, directly at Vickie.

He points at the sign and next at Vickie.

Sign, Vickie. Sign, Vickie. Sign-

Vickie Hall: STOP!

A looming silence hangs over the four of them until Vickie casually takes a step forward. Soon enough, she makes a b-line towards Conor.

When PRETTY PINK© is an arm length away from the gamer, she stops, raises her head… and smiles rather evilly.

She extends her arm.

Vickie Hall: Vickie Hall, nice to formally meet you.

Conor is tentative but he does eventually extend his arm and shake her hand in return.

Vickie Hall: Gosh golly, we got off on the wrong foot there, didn’t we?

It’s not often Conor feels like he isn’t the weirdest person in the room… until now. The HOW wrestler simply stands there and attempts to put a warm smile on his face.

Conor Fuse: Off on the wrong… foot?

Conor clearly has no recollection of interacting with the Hall’s before this specific incident but Vickie tilts her head back and giggles. She reaches out for Conor’s arm and snatches it, while playfully scolding Fuse with her free index finger.

Vickie Hall: Oh that whole news posting thing. On the PRIME website, silly. You were talking about Cancer Jiles – and then I took exception because, well, excuse my French but FUCK Cancer Jiles.

Vickie turns and points to Jonathan-Christopher.

Vickie Hall: My man already defeated Jiles like weeks ago.

She bats her eyes at Conor.

Vickie Hall: And now we’re off to the Universal Championship turmoil match! Such a dream!!

Vickie left out the small part of Jonathan-Christopher needing to defeat Ivan Stanislav first. Regardless, she powers through.

Vickie Hall: As for tonight, you may ask, “what are we doing here?”

Conor certainly looks like he wasn’t going to ask this question and he definitely doesn’t care. He just wants to spend time in his locker room, gearing up for his upcoming match, alone.

Vickie casually strolls back beside her man and his best friend.

Vickie Hall: We’re here to scout!

Again, Fuse doesn’t care.

Vickie Hall: Our hearts were broken when my boys were told they couldn’t defend the PRIME World Tag Team Championships anymore because there wasn’t a tag division. Here, in PWA, I’m told…

Her eyes narrow. Her voice lowers.

Vickie Hall: There IS a division!

Conor walks further into his locker room. He takes a seat on the bench and starts unpacking his duffle bag.

Conor Fuse: (deadpan) Great. (continuing to unpack) So why are you three in my locker room?

Vickie cackles harmlessly.

Vickie Hall: Because we got off on the wrong foot, you goof. The wrong foot, that’s all.

Conor glances up from his belongings and shrugs.

Conor Fuse: Okay, no worries. Consider us off on the right foot!… even though I’m a lefty and I use my left foot, lol.

Vickie takes a quick peak at Darin Zion with an embarrassing eye roll, as if saying “who the fuck talks like that?”, before bringing her attention back to Conor Fuse.

Vickie Hall: Amazing. Well, LEFT foot it is!

However, before the LOVE CONVOY leave Conor’s locker room, COMICON himself stops and winks at Darin Zion.

Conor Fuse: For the record, we were friends first.

Zion puffs out his chest and acts confident but is seemingly siding with Vickie and Jonathan-Christopher on this one.

Darin Zion: Yeah well, Jonathan-Christopher and I are going to win those tag belts at PWA-03.

Vickie sticks her head in the middle of it.

Vickie Hall: Jonathan-Christopher is Zion’s best friend, you see.

Fuse tries to suffer through the interaction. Knowing it’s mercilessly near the end, he just has to keep a straight face for another second or two longer.

Conor Fuse: Right. So, uh, good luck with the tag titles. Hope you guys win.

The LOVE CONVOY exits the locker room with Vickie providing a final comment.

Vickie Hall: Thanks, dear. Thanks so much.

PWA-02 goes to ringside.

Scott Stevens vs. Abe Libschitz

 

We return from the Love Convoy back into Arena Mexico, where inside the ring, the competitors for our next contest are already standing, ready to go in opposite corners. Scott Stevens looks strident in his focus, his hands gripping the ropes, ready to charge out and get this bout underway. Across the ring, Abe Lipschitz is…not. On wobbly legs, his smile is wide, sloppy, his eyes drooping. 

Nick Stuart: Folks, I have no idea what’s going on with Abe here but we’re about ready to get this next match underway.

Richard Parker: Fifty dollars says he ran into Jiles on the way to the ring again.

Nick Stuart: God help us all…

PRIME official Ashley Barlow directs between Stevens, who is eager to get this underway, and Abe, who she literally has to help back to a full stand. In the process, he nearly grabs her and tries to dance with her. Something…is very off here.

Nick Stuart: I…don’t understand this.

Richard Parker: And neither do I. Neither. Do. I.

DING DING

Uncoiling, Stevens charges forward, grabbing hold of Lipschitz, who is milling around his corner, shouting out something about Marjorie Taylor Greene. A tight collar and elbow from purported Demi-God of HOW becomes a biel toss, sending Lipschitz skittering across the ring.

Nick Stuart: Five inches in difference, nearly fifty pounds, and it looked like he just ragdolled him across the ring with little resistance.

Richard Parker: And Abe is…laughing?

Nick Stuart: Wasn’t there something shared about Abe feeling great going into this match? That people should beat their life savings on him?

Richard Parker: I would have even dropped fifty dollars on that, and if you did, your pants are probably filling with crap. 

Nick Stuart: Easy money?

Richard Parker: No resistance.

Abe staggers drunkenly to his feet, putting up his dukes. Stevens brushes an errant hand side, grabbing hold of Lipshitz with a side headlock, jerking him, trying to torque his neck. It’s crazy, then, that it’s Scott Stevens feeling the sting of such a maneuver, as Lipschitz blindly trips him and leverages for a pin, nearly showing the world the famous Stevens scorpion tail with how much of his tights he has a hold of.

ONE

TWO

NOOOOOOOOO

Stevens kicks out, grabbing at the waistband of his tights and yanking them back up. Nobody wanted to see those dangerously pale buns which are stark against his tanned and tattooed skin. Annoyed, he gets up, and as Abe stumbles his way back to his feet, and seeing that he is remaining stationary, grunts and throws his leg.

Nick Stuart: Remember The Alamo! 

Richard Parker: Damn, did you see how badly Abe’s head jerked back?

Lipschitz lays splayed out, and Stevens, realizing just what he’s dealing with, grabs a hold of him, lifts him up, and, with his arms locked around his neck, spikes him into the canvas.

Nick Stuart: Toxic Sting! Cover!

ONE

TWO

THREE

DING DING DING

Vince Howard: Your winner…by pinfall…SCOOOOOOOOOOTT! STEEEEEEEEEEVENS!

Nick Stuart: That…was quicker than most might’ve expected.

Richard Parker: And a different result than most would think going in, with Lipshitz being the next contender for the PRIME Alias title.

Stevens celebrates as Abe lays on the canvas, rolling around.

The Queen and The Prick

 

Backstage the entire area is buzzing with life as crew members are darting around trying to make sure the show is going smoothly. Wrestlers from multiple companies are congregating in the catering area but staying mostly within their little friend groups.

Walking solo is Dan Ryan, cutting a huge figure as he crosses the room. He doesn’t hear any of the muttering thanks to the Air Pods in his ears, playing “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

He adjusts the bag strap over his left shoulder and keeps his eyes straight ahead as he passes out of the room and into the interior corridors. He walks directly toward the administrative offices for the night, knowing exactly where to go and who he wants to see.

He approaches another corner and turns, seeing two Arena México security guards standing about three feet in front of a door at the end of the hall. He approaches without pause. One of them starts to step forward, but steps back again when Dan’s glare cuts a hole right through the middle of his head. The other guard, conflicted, holds a hand up.

Security Guard: Sir, please…

Dan turns his head to the second man.

Dan Ryan: Move.

The two guards look at each other, think better of things and step aside. Dan walks by and goes straight to the door. He reaches down and turns the doorknob, opening it into a large dressing room area turned into an office for the night.

Standing next to a desk is Lindsay Troy. Her back is to the door. On a sofa against the wall are her children, Dan’s niece and nephew, Kaz and Ami. They see him first, and they leap to their feet. Lindsay spins around, seeing her former partner standing, chin up and stoic, with a hint of annoyance.

Dan Ryan: I don’t know if you know why I’m here. I don’t really care if you know. But I have some things to say, and this time, I’m telling you, as clearly as I can, that I will say them, no matter how mad you are, no matter how much you hate me, no matter where we are.

Lindsay chooses to listen, for now, as he continues.

Dan Ryan: I want you to know. I get it. At PWA-01, I tried to be civil, I tried to be cordial, and I came hat in hand to show you the respect of apologizing to you face to face. You, of course, spit in my face and told me to fuck off. So then, Jatt and I showed up at one of your shows, we screwed around in the parking lot, sold some merch, may have insulted you and PRIME a bit, all because I knew it would get under your skin. Of course, it did. And now…

His eyes narrow a bit.

Dan Ryan: You’ve decided to get involved with my daughter again. You know the situation, but you don’t know the details, and you probably never will. I don’t really give a shit if you know that either. But I will tell you this…

He starts slowly walking in her direction.

Dan Ryan: I care only about the well-being of my daughter. I care about how she’s doing, what she’s doing, and I care about her safety and want her to thrive. I don’t want her suffering for my sake, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to prevent her from bearing the cross of my failures. But Lindsay… if you’re meddling in the life of my daughter to get back at me… you are threatening to cross a line.

Dan gets to within a couple of feet. Lindsay Troy, of course, holds her ground, not intimidated or deterred. But he continues.

Dan Ryan: You can be smug right now if you want to be. You can be pissed. That’s all well and good. And I’m not gonna threaten you. But I will suggest to you that you once again think about what you know of me and the things I have been willing to do to people over the years… Not a threat, Lindsay. I’m just telling you, there’s a line…

Kaz Troy: And you’d better back away from it, Uncle Dan.

The Heir Apparent puts himself between his mother and his uncle. While not as tall as the Hammer of GOD, the time spent in the gym and beginning his wrestling career has seen Kaz bulk up quite a bit since the last time Dan’s seen him.

Ami narrows her eyes and folds her arms over her chest.

Ami Troy: Maybe if Miss Phyllis was half as good at snooping as she likes to think she is, she would’ve known Cece came to Mom for help with getting work again. Y’know, since you messed that up for her and all.

Dan smiles slightly while Lindsay side-eyes him.

Dan Ryan: See, this is a perfect illustration of what I was talking about, because your son… my dear nephew… thinks he’s being brave, but there are just a few reasons why he isn’t picking his teeth up off the floor. Most importantly, so you all know and we are very clear, I will not lay a hand on anyone in this room not named Lindsay Troy, for any reason, under any circumstance, ever. I have fought you before, Lindsay, but I will not touch your kids. Not for any reason. And, the reason why I won’t respond to your veiled threat… Kaz…

He turns and looks right at his nephew.

Dan Ryan: …is because I respect that you are my nephew, you are your mother’s son, and as said before, there are lines that should not be crossed. As for you, Ami…

He turns to his niece, who is still scowling. He sucks air through his teeth a bit.

Dan Ryan: I sort of figured she came to your mother. Let me give you some friendly advice. Never show your hand so early. What I did there is called “bait.” I wasn’t 100% sure about the info you just blurted out, but I do appreciate your confirmation.

Her scowl deepens as Dan turns back to Lindsay.

Dan Ryan: If what Miss Ami’s saying is true, the situation is quite simple. I don’t mind you helping her if your motives are clear. I can’t help her now. If you want to help? (He shrugs) Go right ahead.

He smiles, then slowly looks at Kaz again, holding the smile while he averts his gaze down at both his niece and nephew. Lindsay steps next to her son and lightly places her hand on his broad shoulder.

Lindsay Troy: If you’ve gotten your big speech and “non-threats” off your chest, Daniel, you can leave now.

Dan steps back a bit, hands up, and smiling in resignation.

Dan Ryan: Fair enough. I’ll go. I don’t want to cause any of you any more trouble.

His eyebrows raise slightly.

Dan Ryan: Besides… this is a big show. I have some tag titles to win.

He winks at Kaz, who frowns, then turns to the door, opens it and walks out. Once it clicks shut, Kaz clenches his fist and growls.

Kaz Troy: Fuck him. I should’ve decked him. Piece of shit ‘roid ass motherfucker…

Ami Troy: (rolling her eyes) Oh yeah, Kaz. Deck Uncle Dan. So he can throw you through the wall right in front of us? Great idea, genius…

Lindsay Troy: That’s enough, you two.

Kaz looks at his mother, eyes still raging with fury.

Kaz Troy: He gets to destroy our family again, run you through the mud, come to a PRIME show and shit on your hard work and then suffer no consequences for it? That’s bullsh–

Lindsay Troy: Hey! Enough.

The Queen grasps her son by his shoulders and forces him to look her in the eyes.

Lindsay Troy: I know you want to deck him. You probably want to do more than that to him. But you need to pick your spots, understand?

After a moment of stillness, Kaz nods. She then looks to Ami.

Lindsay Troy: And he wasn’t wrong about not showing your hand, Ami, even if it put him in his place for a second.

Ami frowns again. Lindsay motions her over and wraps an arm around both her kids.

Lindsay Troy: I’ve got bigger things to concern myself with tonight than this. Until I have to worry about it, I’m not. I suggest you two do the same.

With that, the Queen reaches for her gear bag, and we cut to ringside.

STRONK! vs. Coral Avalon

 

The lights go out in Arena Mexico.

The beginning of Monster Siren’s “Real Me” hits the PA system as smoke fills the entryway. Lights shine behind the smoke, illuminating a silhouette that stands as a sentinel at the top of the ramp. When the guitars of the song hit, the silhouette bursts through the fog with a single spotlight shining down on him.

The 5-Star Champion of PRIME looks like he’s seen better days, having barely survived a war with Sage Pontiff to keep possession of his championship, and then enduring a brutal betrayal right after the match. His ribs are taped up underneath the championship belt around his waist and the large faux fur cloak he wears to the ring. He carries a battle standard which has two logos on it – one is the familiar PRIME logo. The other is a skull wearing half of a broken crown on it, the logo of the Crownless Kingdom.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen… the following contest, scheduled for one fall, is a non-title exhibition match! Making his way to the ring… residing in Seattle, Washington, he weighs in tonight at two hundred and fourteen pounds! THE CROWNLESS KING! THE 5-STAR CHAMPION! THIS! IS! COOOOOOOORRRAAAALLLLL AVAAAALOOOOOOONNNN!!

Avalon walks to the ring between rows of smaller yellow and blue lights that illuminate him as he heads for the ring. When he reaches the ring apron, he jumps up onto the apron and steps into the ring, taking care to not lose his regalia in the ropes. He finds the hard cam and puts up two fists with the pinkies and ring fingers out.

His music eventually dies down, with fans in Mexico chanting his name. All he has to do is wait for his opponent.

STRONK DADDY

STRONK DADDY

STRONK DADDY

Those words play on a loop through the arena’s sound system, the opening refrain to the chart-topping, genre-defining hit “STRONKER” by the beautiful, enigmatic FLAV RILLE, only heavily distorted, dulled, chopped ‘n screwed, and underscored by a bone-jarring thumping base.

STRONK DADDY

STRONK DADDY

STRONK DADDY

White lights pulsate inside the arena, briefly illuminating the raucous crowd, perfectly in sync with the words, which sound partly demonic, partly robotic, and definitely foreboding.

HE’S UNSTOPPABBBBLLLLLEEEEE!

The King Stallion’s custom entrance theme kicks in all the way, the song returning to its usual sound, as a lone spotlight shines down on the stage, directly in front of the entrance.

Michael Oliver Best walks out first, dressed to the fucking nines and carrying a weight scale propped against his shoulder. Everywhere they go, the scale goes (within reason), available at the drop of a hat to measure and document the big man’s perpetual bulking progress.

A few seconds later, MOB turns back around and points reverently to the entrance, and the hulking HOW World Champion pushes through the curtain, emerging out onto the stage. He’s immediately met by a MASSIVE but mixed reaction. He’s the Upcoming Large Object, after all—the industry’s best chance at crossover mainstream exposure. Let the man do his thing, okay? Let the man make all our collective lives better.

Atop a portable self-balancing scooter painted HOW red, rocking subtly and unintentionally back and forth, STRONK! scans the Arena Mexico with his typical David Puddy blank stare, bathing in the white light, 97RED respectfully fastened around his waist. The camera shoots him from below, facing upward, making him appear gigantic on the video screen behind him, despite his standing only five feet nine inches tall. As short as he admittedly is for his size, STRONK!’s equally as wide. Ripped to shreds and slathered in baby oil. He’s got the ‘money’ look promoters love (save, once again, for the whole ‘not six foot four thing).

Last out from the back is “the Original” Jeff Garvin, looking like he just rolled out of bed five minutes ago. He wears a faded Tennessee Technician sweatsuit (from 2003) and his short curly brown hair is tamped down on the left side of his head. He carries with him a spit bucket. Once he spots Coral Avalon, his old and greatest nemesis, standing outside the ring, his demeanor instantly shifts. He remembers why he’s here and exactly why he goaded STRONK!, after weeks of half-heartedly training him in old-school Memphis wrestling holds for a desperately needed paycheck, to challenge Avalon for the second-ever PWA show in the first place.

Twenty years later, and he still hates that beady-eyed fucker’s face. What a piece of shit, Garvin thinks. He looks awful.

Avalon doesn’t look awful. He looks to be in terrific shape.

Garvin, on the other hand, well… twenty years is a long time.

Many bottles of brown were drunk in those twenty years.

A lot of dust has collected on the equipment in his home gym in those twenty years.

Jeff sucks in his beer belly and pats the HOW World Champion on the back encouragingly.

The three men make their way down to the ring, with MOB and Garvin swatting the fans’ hands away as they reach beyond the barricade in hopes of touching STRONK! Daddy. Once inside the ring, STRONK! hands his championship over to MOB; it’s not on the line tonight, but he wears it everywhere. This is actually the first time he’s taken the belt off since winning it at War Games. He sleeps, showers, shits with that thing on. It bestowed upon him his newly acquired “!”, and that means no man is ever taking it off him. Ever.

When this match was made, Coral Avalon was not PRIME’s 5-Star Champion. STRONK! had not yet won War Games. He was not yet the HOW World Champion. What a difference two months makes, right?

DING DING

The moment the bell rang, a living brick wall of meat and hate makes a beeline for his taller but far lighter opponent. Avalon sees him coming and delivers a European uppercut straight to STRONK!’s face that… absolutely doesn’t do a single goddamn thing in deterring Godson from grabbing the Crownless King and flinging him from one side of the ring to the other like he’s taking out the trash.

It’s a suplex, yes, but good luck describing what kind of suplex it is. It’s more like STRONK! grabbed whatever he could of Avalon and said “happy birthday to the ground”.

Avalon bounces when he hits the ground, and comes up rolling into the turnbuckles on the opposite side of the ring. The expression on his face is bewilderment. STRONK! turns and charges Avalon, who manages to get up and kick both feet into STRONK!’s face, using his own momentum against him.

STRONK! backs away, and Coral immediately decides to pull out the big guns and comes charging in with the Rhongomyniad. But STRONK! catches his foot, then reels him into another suplex. This one’s a little more easily defined as a capture suplex, and Coral hits the canvas so hard that he rolls and lands draped face and neck first against the second rope.

Nick Stuart: What a monster this STRONK! is! He’s just flinging Avalon around the ring at-will!

Richard Parker: Look, say what you will about High Octane, and believe me, a lot of people are going to say a lot of things about that place, but they really don’t build guys like STRONK! anywhere except in some sort of secret super soldier lab. So, what I’m saying is that I think we need to issue a formal investigation into whatever secret lab they’re holding underneath the Best Arena, because STRONK! clearly escaped from it and he’s been allowed to do professional wrestling crimes.

The crimes continue as STRONK! moves in on Avalon and starts using his prodigious bulk to press Avalon’s head and neck against the second rope. The referee, Elvis Nixon, is forced to make a five count and admonish STRONK! after he releases the choke at the count of four and a half.

Hey, you know who’s at ringside? Jeff Garvin. You know who has plenty of reason to want to continue choking Coral Avalon? Jeff Garvin. You know who is actually choking him right now while the referee’s back is turned? You already know the answer to that question.

Nick Stuart: Uh, ref? Ref! Look behind you, Elvis!

Richard Parker: What? My monitor’s on the fritz, I don’t see what you’re yelling about.

Garvin only releases the choke when it looks like the referee is going to turn around, and manages to duck under his field of vision and start moving away from the scene of the crime when he does. Thus, Nixon is none the wiser.

Nick Stuart: As if it’s not bad enough that he’s in there against STRONK!, but that weasel out there is making this a handicap match!

Richard Parker: Okay, first of all, that’s Jeff Garvin and he’s a former world champion. Second of all, he’s not a weasel, he’s more like a beer elemental.

STRONK! grabs Avalon in a waistlock and hurls him mightily with a German suplex, planting him somewhere in the zip code of the other side of the ring. STRONK!, a creature with no wasted motion (because he wouldn’t want to burn unnecessary calories), is already moving towards Avalon to throw him again. Avalon’s momentum carries him underneath the bottom rope, and he’s recovering on the other side of the apron when STRONK comes for him.

But Avalon is more resilient than he’s given credit for sometimes, and manages to jump up and nail him in the head with an enzuigiri. STRONK! is staggered backwards, allowing Coral to springboard into a dropkick that actually manages to drop the stout monstrosity, though he’s quick to get back up to one knee.

Avalon bounces off the ropes, looking for the Secace forearm, but STRONK! promptly turns and blasts Avalon almost out of his boots with a wicked lariat that turns him upside-down and lands him hard on his stomach.

Nick Stuart: WHAT A LARIAT!

Richard Parker: He’s dead. He’s fucking dead.

Avalon isn’t dead, but he’s certainly not sure where he is right now. STRONK! decides to go for the cover, but the lariat only gets two after Avalon sneaks his shoulder up off of the canvas.

Nick Stuart: It’s been all STRONK! so far in this contest! This man’s power is unreal!

Richard Parker: He’s getting bigger~ He’s getting STRONKer~

Nick Stuart: Oh no. It’s contagious.

STRONK! isn’t just unstoppable, bigger, or STRONKER! He’s also relentless. Relentlesser. Okay, we need to workshop that. Anyhoodle, STRONK! pulls Avalon up to his feet, and lifts him up into the gorilla press slam in a display of easy power. He even lifts Avalon up and down as though he was the world’s least practical barbell.

It also gives Avalon time to slip out, landing on his feet behind STRONK! and going right into an O’Connor roll! It gets two, and STRONK!’s powerful kickout sends Avalon almost flying out of the ring before he catches himself on the ropes. When STRONK! comes charging in to take back his advantage, Avalon slips through the ropes and catches him with another European uppercut. This one is about as effective as the first one, so Avalon hits him with a second. Then a third. All this does is anger STRONK!, and Steve Solex would call for a little SMASH right about now.

That’s when Coral got clever.

Recognizing that his prowess with uppercuts of European origin are about as useful as a slug in a salt factory, Avalon grabs the bottom rope and slides underneath STRONK!’s legs. STRONK! turns and sees Avalon running into the ropes. He goes for another lariat, but Avalon grabs STRONK!’s arm and flips all the way over into a standing headscissors.

Nick Stuart: Wait! Avalon is looking for Excalibur here!

Richard Parker: That’s ridiculous! He’s STRONK!

While Avalon has STRONK!’s arms underhooked, STRONK! easily blocks the attempt at the Excalibur. So Coral rams his knees into his face multiple times to try and soften him up long enough to make the attempt.

The problem is apparent, though. STRONK! Daddy is bigger and STRONKER!, and did we mention that he’s unstoppable? He’s 307.1 pounds of pure muscle. He might not even have an idea of what body fat actually is. He is the man your man wishes he could be, but he can’t be because he is a weak baby man.

Coral is flung. It’s only because of his natural agility and the knowledge that his attempt at the Excalibur had been futile that he’s able to land on his feet. He doesn’t hesitate to run into the ropes in front of him.

Nick Stuart: RHONGO– NO!

Once again, STRONK! catches Avalon’s boot before it can hit him. This time, though, Avalon doesn’t give him the chance to suplex him out of it, as he leaps up with his other leg and hits him with another enzuigiri! This one rocks STRONK, and he falls to one knee.

Richard Parker: Look at all of the work it took just to bring that man down to one knee! He isn’t human! He’s STRONK!

Avalon scrambles to his feet, and grabs STRONK in a waistlock. He wants a German suplex, but his opponent’s low center of gravity is making it difficult. STRONK! eventually throws Avalon off of him with something resembling a judo throw, and then comes after him with another lariat the moment he’s able to regain his balance.

He’s met with a jumping knee.

STRONK! doesn’t quite go down from it, but he’s rocked. As Garvin shouts words of encouragement to his student (something that sounds suspiciously like “get that motherfucker!”), Avalon lands a few elbows to the back of his skull. I’m sorry, did I say a few elbows? My mistake, I meant a shitload of elbows. Avalon landed so many that even STRONK! can’t weather the storm and is dropped to all fours.

That affords Avalon an opportunity to pull something from the playbook of his best student.

Nick Stuart: Avalon… yes, Avalon’s got an octopus hold on STRONK! Can he pull the rabbit out of the hat here and get the submission on the HOW World Champion!?

Richard Parker: No way!

STRONK! tries to rip his arm out of Avalon’s grip, but Avalon holds firm with both arms against STRONK!’s one. Still, STRONK! is too… Well, STRONK! for the hold to be effective. Coral can’t bend his arm back far enough to really wrench in the hold, and he’s unable to use joint manipulation as he normally would to maintain control. After a few moments, he realizes that the hold could be countered, so he rolls off of STRONK! into a sunset flip. and manages to get him into a pinning combination for a two count.

When STRONK! and Avalon both get to their feet, both make moves to turn the tide of the match. STRONK! goes low, looking for a spear that would’ve surely cut Coral in half. But Coral leapfrogs over him, and when he lands, he runs into the opposite ropes.

Missing the spear takes longer for STRONK! to recover than anyone in Camp STRONK! would’ve liked. Thus, the third time’s the charm.

Nick Stuart: RHONGOMYNIAD!

The vaunted yakuza kick of the Crownless King connects flush on STRONK!’s jaw, and sends him through the ropes and out onto the apron. This isn’t very desirable for Avalon, who would want to connect a second of his “Armaments” to put this match away. Getting STRONK! back into the ring isn’t going to be easy.

So Coral steps out onto the apron to join STRONK!, and once again underhooks the arms for Excalibur. This time, though, STRONK is able to push Avalon off of him. He charges him, only for Avalon to catch him with another boot that turns him around. That’s when Avalon takes STRONK!’s back, locking in a sleeper hold!

Nick Stuart: Sleeper hold locked in, but it’s not going to do anything when they’re outside of the ring!

Richard Parker: I thought this guy was supposed to be smart at wrestling.

Nick Stuart: If STRONK! goes to sleep out here, though, he can’t win the match!

And, indeed, STRONK! appears to be fading in the sleeper hold. Coral leaps up onto STRONK!’s back to force him to carry his weight. It looks like it’s working well enough that STRONK! drops to one knee. Garvin, at ringside, wants desperately to get involved, but he can’t with the referee staring right at the action.

That’s when STRONK! comes alive, like the movie monster rising from his grave with an axe at hand. He stands up, and grabs hold of the top ropes. It’s not exactly a rope break, and Elvis in there is just trying to get them both back in the ring. It doesn’t matter. STRONK! knows what he has to do.

Have you ever taken a tube of toothpaste and just dropped a heavy weight on it? Like, say, a cinderblock? Or, since we’re talking about STRONK! fucking GODSON here, a barbell? Like a big barbell? That Thor might use?

I guess the point of this very long analogy is that STRONK! took Coral Avalon and fell backwards.

Off of the apron. To the floor. With Avalon caught between the concrete floor and the 307.1 pound body of the HOW World Champion.

OHHHHHHH!!!

Richard Parker: JESUS CHRIST!

Nick Stuart: I… I think we need a medical team out here, Richard!

Richard Parker: To hell with that, get a priest!

Avalon hasn’t moved since getting piggybacked to his possible demise off of the apron, while STRONK! is slow to get up. Behind him, Jeff Garvin can’t even hold in his Cheshire cat grin, even as he’s telling STRONK! to take Avalon back into the ring and break him further.

Referee Elvis Nixon renews his ten count after getting over his initial shock. Even though he might love to take the victory by countout, STRONK! doesn’t want to win that way and Garvin is requesting even more punishment. So, the Sultan of STRONK peels Avalon up off of the floor mat, and throws him back into the ring.

Nick Stuart: Just… just pin the man already!

Richard Parker: I don’t think that’s what STRONK!’s trainer wants him to do.

Indeed, Jeff Garvin is shouting at STRONK! to punish Avalon more, as though he believes that Avalon might still have a breath of life in him. STRONK! tries to pick up Avalon, but he has some difficulty because he’s just dead weight. Yet, he is STRONK! and there’s none STRONK!er than him, so he still lifts him up straight off of the canvas and lands a deadlift German suplex, bouncing him mercilessly against the canvas.

Nick Stuart: Someone stop this match!

Richard Parker: STRONK! is beating his corpse so badly that his ghost is going to feel it in whatever part of the afterlife he wound up in. My bet’s on the Field of Reeds. Nice place. Lots of reeds.

Garvin wants another one, and STRONK! is never one to want to disappoint his trainer. So he grabs a still-downed Avalon by the waist and does it again. Avalon seemingly makes no attempt to fight back, and is dropped nearly on his head by the second one.

Nick Stuart: Elvis Nixon has not stopped this match, and I don’t understand why!?

Richard Parker: His only job is to count to three!

Nick Stuart: His job is to ensure the safety of everyone in that ring, Richard!

Richard Parker: Wow, if that’s the case, he really sucks at his job.

STRONK! stands, but his breathing is starting to labor. STRONK! won the absolute brutality of War Games by picking his spots and preying on a Conor Fuse too preoccupied by celebrating, but in a one-on-one contest, he is a sprint kind of guy. A marathon? Ain’t nobody’s got the time for that.

So, when he goes to pick Avalon up for the third one, he’s noticeably slower than the first two times he did it. He’d much rather just finish this. He’d rather just put in the Loop Hold and cash in his paycheck courtesy of Lee Best for a job well done in smashing a PRIME champion.

But a job’s a job. He picked up Avalon by the waist and delivered a third German suplex.

But then something miraculous happened. Avalon lands on as close to his feet as possible given his physical well-being, before dropping to one knee. STRONK! only realizes that Avalon hadn’t been properly suplexed when Garvin is screaming frantically at him, so he turns to go inflict more punishment on him.

He’s too slow.

SMACK!

Richard Parker: What!?

Nick Stuart: You could’ve heard that knee from space!

It’s a straight knee, the kind that his championship-caliber former understudy in Japan liked to use to finish her opponents. STRONK! had shrugged off a lot of Avalon’s strikes throughout this contest, but that one rocked him.

Richard Parker: How is that man standing?

Nick Stuart: Standing might be a strong word…

Indeed, Avalon’s on shaky legs, and it’s not just because he drove his knee into a tank in the vague shape of a handsome, impossibly muscled human man. After a few moments of standing there, seemingly unsure of what he’s doing, he collapses on one knee. Was it a last gasp? Garvin could sense that STRONK! needed to finish things before Avalon did any of that plucky underdog shit he hated, and shouted at him to do just that. Why did STRONK! screw around so much, anyway?

STRONK! is holding his jaw like something got knocked loose from it. Probably nothing, man’s gonna spit out motor oil any second now. Still, he has a job to do. He moves towards Avalon with every intention to kill him. His stringy meat would not even be fit for STRONKuums.

But as STRONK! moves in for the kill, going for his patented vertical drop brainbuster, he is again kneed in the head. When Avalon falls back down un-brainbustered, he quickly gets an inside cradle!

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Nick Stuart: Avalon nearly stole it right there!

Richard Parker: Does this man’s theft know no bounds!?

STRONK! is actually slower to get up than Avalon, whose adrenaline is going into overdrive to compensate for the damage he’s taken. STRONK! still goes for another lariat, but Avalon ducks it and grabs the waistlock. He wants the German suplex again, but STRONK! attempts to use his low center of gravity again. And yet…

…he finds himself being lifted up.

Richard Parker: Impossible!

After a long, agonizing delay and surprising show of power from the lean Crownless King, he manages to complete the suplex with a bridge!

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Once again, STRONK! kicks out, but he does so as bewildered as he is exhausted. Avalon needs the ropes to get to his feet, but he’s up before STRONK! is. STRONK! staggers into Avalon, swinging wildly. Avalon ducks and lands the Lungblower backbreaker, but he doesn’t go for the cover. Instead, he rolls underneath the bottom rope and goes up to the top rope.

Nick Stuart: Coral Avalon is making a miraculous comeback here! He’s up on the top rope, could it be time for the Carnwennan!?

It isn’t, but that’s not because of STRONK!… it’s because of Jeff Garvin.

Garvin jumps up on the apron and while he doesn’t do anything directly, his presence is a distraction for both Avalon and Elvis Nixon.

Nick Stuart: No! Get that snake off of the apron!

Avalon realizes what Garvin is doing just in time to leap off the top rope and avoid a STRONK! that was about to meet him in the corner. He lands in a roll, and ends up in the opposite corner. STRONK! comes after him with the speed of a man who just hit a burst of adrenaline that his body labored to keep up with, so Coral used the ropes to jump up and over STRONK!

When he ran out of the corner, he ran towards the ropes.

Right towards Garvin.

Nick Stuart: RHONGOMYNIAD TO GARVIN!

Richard Parker: No!

The Original has no idea what hit him. He’s hated Coral Avalon for twenty long years, and yet he’s unlikely to have ever seen him do a yakuza kick before tonight. The Tennessee Technician is unlikely to know that Avalon’s version of the kick is named for the spear of King Arthur, let alone being able to spell or pronounce it. All he knows is that he’s not eating solid food for a couple of days because of it.

Coral Avalon does not make a lot of mistakes inside a wrestling ring, but this is most certainly one of them.

Because it affords STRONK! an opportunity.

Nick Stuart: STRONK! from behind! STRONK!… THAT’S THE LOOP HOLD!

Richard Parker: Never should’ve taken your eyes off of the prize, Avalon!

It is fortuitous that Avalon was still tangled up in the ropes after the Rhongoymniad when STRONK! got him in the choke sleeper. It means that the hold that won him the HOW World Championship isn’t yet legal. It means that there’s still hope.

STRONK! is very powerful, indeed, but he still gives up a lot of leverage from being shorter than Avalon. And in his efforts to rip Avalon off of the ropes, he loses Avalon’s back. The hold becomes closer to a side headlock. The hold becomes something Coral can counter.

A Saito suplex sends STRONK! to the canvas. The sheer jolt of the impact is enough to break the hold.

Nick Stuart: Where is Avalon getting this strength!?

Richard Parker: I don’t know, but I think that’s his limit, Nick.

Indeed, both men seem equally as slow to get up. The brief period in which Avalon had been in the Loop Hold has sapped much of his strength, and if STRONK! got the Loop Hold on him in the middle of the ring, you might need to call a coroner for him. Yet, STRONK! is gassed. He’s well past his limits in this sort of match. It’s something Jeff Garvin – once he’s able to recover from getting that kick in the face – may have to train his meal ticket to deal with.

Avalon’s just a little bit faster. He charges STRONK! and nails him, full force, with maybe the hardest charging European uppercut he’s ever thrown in his life. STRONK! hits the ropes upon impact and falls out of the ring in a daze. Before he even has time to get his bearings, Avalon is flying after him with a tope suicida!

Nick Stuart: TOPE SUICIDA! They’re right out here in front of us, Rich!

Richard Parker: Get them away! I don’t like this!

Avalon grabs STRONK! by the head and tries to pull him up to get him back into the ring. But STRONK! isn’t budging, as even gassed, he’s still a 307.1 pound muscle monstrosity. He refuses to do anything Avalon wants him to do. His efforts are hampered by the fact that Jeff Garvin, despite having been kicked in the face earlier, is once again ambulatory enough to try and sneak up on Coral.

Coral turns around and sees him. The expression he gives him is withering.

Nick Stuart: That snake in the grass, Garvin, once again!

Richard Parker: I mean, he’s not in the grass. This is a decidedly un-grassy environment. I’m just saying, it’s very bad camouflage for a snake.

Jeff Garvin hates Coral Avalon. It’s an old hatred, dating back to when Coral was a young and unproven rookie over twenty years ago. He would like nothing more than to bury Avalon in a ditch somewhere and piss on it afterwards. But Garvin is a shell of what he once was in 2002, and Avalon has become one of the best wrestlers in the world in that time.

Not that Garvin would ever admit it.

Of course, this match isn’t entirely about Avalon and Garvin, because that shit was twenty years ago, in a world far and away from PWA-02. This is about Coral Avalon and STRONK! GODSON. And STRONK! has ways to remind you that it’s about him, too.

Nick Stuart: No! Look out!

It’s too late, Nick. Not that Coral can hear you. Coral turns only in time for STRONK to grab him and fling him into the ring post. He hits it with his back and collapses on the ground near the entry ramp.

Richard Parker: Oh, he gon’ die now.

While this last show of strength from STRONK! has turned the tides, STRONK! isn’t doing good. He’s red going on purple. He’s breathing hard enough that the front row might need to worry about hypoxia soon. As Jeff Garvin is looking underneath the ring apron for something, STRONK! rolls back into the ring to break up the ten count, then rolls back out to stalk after Avalon.

It’s now that Jeff reveals what he has found: A table.

Nick Stuart: Oh, come on! Now we’ve got a table out here!

Richard Parker: What? People like tables.

He sets it up as STRONK! pulls a weary Avalon to his feet. STRONK! puts Avalon on the table, and then climbs up to the ring apron. This way, he doesn’t need to do anything more than fall on him. At his state of exhaustion, it’s the best option. Garvin tries to hold Avalon down to prevent him from getting out of the way.

There’s a problem, though. Two, actually.

STRONK! is too weary, and Avalon’s fighting back. He headbutts Garvin in the face, knocking him down and away, then gets off of the table to meet STRONK! on the apron.

Nick Stuart: Avalon’s back up! He’s on the apron, fighting it out with STRONK!

STRONK!’s blows don’t have the same effect they did earlier in the match, but Avalon needs to pour everything into his European uppercuts just to have any effect on the brick wall in front of him. STRONK! surprises him with a kick in the gut like something out of a film about Spartans, backing him away.

He turns Avalon around and goes for his old favorite, the backdrop driver. If he lands this, it might not just be over for the match, but for a man’s career. But Avalon flips over and somehow lands on his feet on the apron, a narrow and precise landing with no margin for error. STRONK! turns and gets met with the yakuza kick.

Nick Stuart: ANOTHER RHONGOMYNIAD!

Richard Parker: I swear, he’s just doing that to make you shout that word a lot tonight.

STRONK! doesn’t go down. The man is a monster. You might find someone like him emerging from Camp Crystal Lake in a hockey mask and a machete. However, he is stunned. Avalon grabs STRONK! and underhooks his arms.

He gives a pointed look to Garvin, recovering at ringside from the headbutt.

And then, with every last bit of his power, drops himself and STRONK through the table with a double underhook piledriver.

CRASH!

RAHHHHHHHHH!!!

Richard Parker: I… WHAT THE HELL!?

Nick Stuart: EXCALIBUR OFF OF THE APRON! THROUGH THE TABLE! NOTHING BUT CARNAGE OUT HERE!

Elvis Nixon had already been up to a five count when the Excalibur happened. He’s as shocked as everyone else by what’s happened out there. But he has a job to do.

SIX.

Coral Avalon has risked everything to get to this point. But he’s unable to get up. 307.1 pounds of dead weight lies on top of him.

SEVEN.

STRONK! is an animal forged from STRONKuums and hate. But he’s unable to get up, either. He might be unconscious.

EIGHT.

Jeff Garvin is in a panic, his nose bloodied from the headbutt. This can’t be happening. This is supposed to be revenge. A chance to destroy his enemy one last time. He tries to wake STRONK! up, dumping a bottle of water on his head.

NINE.

But STRONK! remains down, and so does Coral Avalon.

TEN!

DING DING DING

BOOOOOOOO!!!

Dissatisfaction erupts from the crowd, as Elvis Nixon goes over to Vince Howard to consult with him on the decision.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen… As a result of a double count out, this match has been ruled a NO CONTEST!

BOOOOOOOO!!!

Doctors and EMTs stream out to check on the conditions of both men, as the crowd continues to boo.

Nick Stuart: Folks, this was a wild one…

Richard Parker: We laughed, we cried, we watched Coral Avalon sail through the air forehead-first because that’s the only way he can sail…

Nick Stuart: But… this battle of HOW vs. PRIME has ended in a draw, and I can’t imagine anyone on either side of this one is happy about that.

Richard Parker: Well, I can think of one guy. He threw a copyright law book at a man the other day, I heard!

The scene closes on both Avalon and STRONK! being helped out of the ringside area by attending doctors, and we move on with the show, but not before a bewildered, angry Jeff Garvin sticks his face in a camera and growls, “You all saw that! He accosted me! I’m going to sue that motherf—”

The Finale

 

Joe Bergman sits on a folding chair in front of his dressing room mirror, staring at his reflection. He’s dressed in his wrestling gear. Tonight his eyes are wide open and his face has a wide grin to it. 

This is it.

Tonight is the final time Joe will step into the ring.

No words are spoken. 

Joe’s wife, Laura, enters the dressing room and gives her husband a long hug.  It’s a tight embrace, filled with love and support for the couple who recently remarried in Wales over a month ago.

Next… it’s Joe’s two-year-old daughter, Olivia, who toddles in behind her mother and gives her father a high five. Joe smiles. His heart may be heavy with emotion but he’s always happy to see his young daughter and future big sister of the Bergman’s unborn child.

Olivia Bergman: GO DADDY GO!

Then last, but not least, the door opens.  Sunny O’Callahan, Joe’s valet.  Bergman brought Sunny back to HOW to be his valet and helped restart her wrestling career in the process. Sunny rushes over to Joe and gives him a long, lingering hug. Joe closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment.

As Sunny pulls away, she looks at Joe with tears in her eyes. “You got this, Joe,” she says softly. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Also coming in, PRIME’s Adam Ellis and his wife Ginny Van Lear- don’t worry folks, she’s not packing tonight.  Texas Championship Wrestling owner Charlie Blackwell walks in with his wife Kenzie. The Alabama Gang… all of them (‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson, R.G. Jenkins, and Mark Hendry) join in. 

And then MVW majority owner Ray McAvay comes in with one-half of West Texas Adult Entertainment legends… the duo of Dark and Stormy… his wife Stacee ‘Dark’ Perry.

Joe nods, unable to speak as he stands up from his chair. He looks around the room at the people he loves most in the world, his family and friends, who have supported him throughout his entire career.

Joe claps his hand and signals it’s time for him to go.

Joe Bergman: Let’s do this.

With a deep breath, Joe gets and walks out of the dressing room, followed by Sunny and the others.  

Joe Bergman vs. Sage Pontiff

 

The match graphic appears and the crowd braces themselves for what’s to come.

Joe Hoffman: Joe Bergman’s last match is here. He’s definitely got his hands full with Sage Pontiff, though. Pontiff is certainly no push over. He’s been doing very well in PRIME I’m told.

Benny Newell: I’d rather have one of our own finish Joe Bergman off for good, because he will be finished off. Guy doesn’t have it anymore.

Joe Hoffman: Where are you getting this from?

Benny Newell: Good riddance.

Joe Hoffman: That didn’t answer my question.

As the announcers continue to bicker, Bryan McVay is in the center of the ring ready to get the ball rolling.

Bryan McVay: This match is for ONE FALL! Introducing first, from Joshua Tree, California… weighing in at two-hundred-one pounds… SAGE PONTIFF!

“Satori Part II” by the Flower Travellin’ Band plays as Sage casually strolls out to a chorus of boos, with seemingly no fucks given.

Joe Hoffman: Of course nobody’s going to cheer for this man tonight.

Benny Newell: I’m… thinking about it.

Joe Hoffman: You can’t be serious.

Benny Newell: Joe Bergman has continued to throw the Lee Best name under the rug for his ENTIRE career. Of course I don’t want this man to walk off into the sunset. I want him to be rolled off a cliff.

Hoffman ignores the Newell comment as Pontiff makes his way to ringside.

Joe Hoffman: A HUGE moment for Sage since it’s Joe Bergman’s last match, regardless. If Pontiff can be the one who takes him out with a loss…

Benny Newell: Yes. It would do great things for his career. Let’s point out the obvious.

Pontiff rolls into the ring as the crowd anticipates one of the men they came to see.

Bryan McVay: And his opponent…

The room is already deafening and everyone is on their feet.

Bryan McVay: From Planttin, Missouri… weighing two-hundred-twenty pounds…

The broadcast can barely pick up McVay’s voice because the crowd says it along with him.

Bryan McVay: JOE BERGMAN!!!!

RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

The opening piano played by Billy Powell begins. It is followed by the iconic guitar licks from Gary Rossington’s slide guitar. Then Lynyrd Skynyrd’s epic “Freebird” blares out of the PA speakers.

Joe marches out to a huge ovation. He raises his arms in the air and a can of PBR in tribute to the ‘ordinary people’ in attendance tonight and, of course, Section 214.

Benny Newell: 214 is retired after tonight. Thank fucking god. Guy should’ve been paying respect to the Best Alliance all these years.

Joe Hoffman: Get over it.

Bergman makes his way down, taking in the atmosphere for what is going to be his last time. Meanwhile, in the center of the ring, Sage Pontiff doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s locked his fingers together and rolls his arms around to stay “loose”.

Joe hops onto the apron and enters the ring to another ovation.

Benny Newell: (Sigh)

Referee Matt Boettcher calls both men to the center of the ring for a quick “talk”. Sage looks indifferent the whole time.

Joe Hoffman: Get your phones rolling…

With Bergman in one corner and Pontiff in the other, Boettcher calls for the bell and the crowd EXPLODES!

DING DING

Sage Pontiff makes his move and tries wrapping his arms around Bergman’s waist. Sage positions himself to the side of Joe and looks for a German suplex but Bergman sinks down so Pontiff isn’t able to.

However, not to be outdone, Pontiff ends up tripping Bergman to the mat and then he drops an elbow to the back of his head. Another elbow. Another. A third. Fourth. Fifth.

Joe Hoffman: Sage is not going to allow Bergman to have the spotlight. He’s attempting to take the crowd out of it right away.

Benny Newell: It’s smart. No sentiment.

Pontiff stands and pulls Bergman up with him. He connects with an arm drag. Pontiff is back to his feet and connects with another arm drag. Similar to the hard elbows, Pontiff continues to throw arm drag after arm drag, sending Bergman every which way in the ring.

Benny Newell: Did Joe mail this in before the bell even rang?

Joe Hoffman: C’mon now, I highly doubt that.

The crowd can tell Bergman is trying to survive but Sage has come to play. Pontiff pulls Bergman off the mat and looks for an atomic drop but it’s not a well carried out atomic drop so Joe slips out, bounces off the ropes and ends up hitting the PRIME star with an elbow of his own.

Pontiff lowers his weight, picks up Bergman and in one fluid motion he tosses Bergman onto his back with a backdrop.

Joe Hoffman: Unphased by the Bergman elbow-

Benny Newell: Yep, Ordinary Joe mailed it in.

Joe Hoffman: He did not.

Benny Newell: Listen, I don’t want PRIME to win, I already said that. But I’m not going to sit here and pretend I enjoy Joe’s work, either.

Pontiff peels Bergman off the mat and looks for a gutwrench suplex when Joe escapes, bounces off the ropes and ducks a clothesline attempt so he bounces off the next set of ropes. Bergman flies through the air, looking for a potential crossbody block but Pontiff catches him and turns it into a powerslam! Sage hooks the leg…

ONE.

TWO.

SHOULDER UP.

Benny Newell: Mailed. It. In.

Joe Hoffman: Sage Pontiff is twenty-four-years-old and no doubt recognizes how big this moment is. Maybe it’s more about him right now and less about Joe losing his footing.

Bergman is on his feet. He blocks a right palm shot from Pontiff and then reels him in for a side-to-belly suplex, which lands. Joe floats over, lifts Pontiff up and looks for a snap suplex this time when Pontiff hooks his right leg around Bergman so the move can’t be performed. In response, Pontiff lowers his own base and sends Joe Bergman head-over-heels overtop of him, crashing to the mat in another arm drag.

Pontiff dropkicks Bergman in the neck. He pulls Joe up and connects with a snap suplex. By now, the crowd is in a hush, worried they might not be seeing a lot of offense from Bergman at all.

Pontiff drops an elbow. He pushes Bergman to the mat and then bounces off the ropes, striking directly when Joe gets on a knee… with a running, leaping forearm strike.

Joe Hoffman: You could hear that one from over here!

Pontiff drags Bergman to his feet, kicks him in the midsection and then plants the vet with a sloppy looking DDT in the center of the ring. Sage rises, raises his hands to a chorus of boos and spins around-

WHAM!

Right into a forearm shot by Bergman!

The crowd comes alive as Bergman works quickly. He forearms Pontiff into a corner, then Irish whips Pontiff into the corner across the way. Sage meets it chest-first and sticks to the buckle. Bergman races in, looking for a shoulder block when Pontiff suddenly collapses and falls into a heap on the floor. Joe meets the buckle and gets nothing.

Joe Hoffman: That backfired. I definitely don’t think Sage meant to fall over.

Pontiff stumbles around on the canvas, trying to find a vertical base. He’s up, but Joe notices him by then. Bergman is cautious to approach his opponent this time but goes for a standing dropkick once he’s close enough.

Pontiff takes a minor step back, right at the last second and then he lunges forward, the split second Bergman hits the mat with his back. Pontiff snatches Bergman’s legs and tries to twist him into a figure four leg lock. However, Bergman won’t submit without a fight. Right before Pontiff locks in the move, Joe leans forward and drives his elbow into Sage’s face. Pontiff drops the hold, and Bergman rolls into the ropes to help him stand upright.

Pontiff won’t be denied. He’s like a pitbull and immediately charges at Joe the second the vet is on his feet.

Bergman tries for a jumping cutter but Pontiff snaps his head back at the last second and Ordinary Joe misses. Sage leaps onto the ropes right beside Bergman and then whips his legs across Joe’s head…

Into a poisonrana!

The crowd gasps as Bergman’s head ricochets off the mat.

Benny Newell: Should’ve retired ten years ago!

Pontiff stands, dusts himself off and looks over at the referee like he has the match won. He quickly finds where Joe Bergman lies and hooks a leg…

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT!

The crowd comes alive but Sage hates it. He’s immediately on the offense, hammering careless looking fists into Bergman’s face as the referee shouts for them to be open palm strikes. Needless to say, it doesn’t matter. Pontiff hurls Bergman into a corner and charges in with a wild splash. He takes hold of Bergman’s head and then performs a running bulldog in the center of the ring! Once again, Pontiff goes for a cover.

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: Sage didn’t hook the leg.

The crowd gives another sign of life, as they are seeing signs of life in the Average Joe. By now, Pontiff is driving his knee haphazardly into Joe Bergman’s face and Joe is trying to cover up, but having difficulty doing so…

Pontiff props Bergman onto his knees and hits the ropes-

Suddenly, Joe shoots up and connects with a roll through roundhouse kick, sending Pontiff out of the ring!

Sage falls through the bottom and middle rope to the surprise of the crowd. Bergman collapses on all fours, trying to catch his breath.

Joe Hoffman: Hell of a move there. Joe has bought himself some time.

Benny Newell: Whatever.

Bergman is on his feet and he’s firing up the crowd. He races over to the side of the ring where Sage is recovering from the roundhouse kick. It looks like the kick caught Sage under the nose and there’s a small trickle of blood running down his face because of it.

Bergman measures Pontiff…

Slingshot leg drop!

The crowd chants heavily as Bergman throws himself up and out of the ring, crashing down onto Pontiff in a picture perfect move!

Joe Hoffman: Benny, you were saying?

Newell doesn’t say a word as Bergman stands, shouts into the rafters and sends Pontiff back to where he came from… into the squared circle.

Bergman quickly follows. He sees Pontiff is trying to get on his feet so Joe performs the same move. The 214 grabs the top rope and slingshots himself over and into the ring, landing another leg drop to Sage!

Joe waits on his opponent to stir, before enclosing and taking Pontiff by the waist…

It looks like Bergman may be going for a gutwrench suplex when Pontiff wiggles his way out of it. Sage turns Joe around to face him and drills the Average Joe in the temple with a forearm. Pontiff looks to drag Bergman into a suplex himself when suddenly Joe reverses it into a hurricanrana!

Into a pin!

Joe Hoffman: Both legs hooked! Joe has both legs hooked!

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT!

Joe Hoffman: Barely a kickout! I thought Joe had Sage dead to rights!

Benny Newell: You could see Pontiff was trying to kickout the second his legs were trapped. Luckily for him, the last second was still available…

Both men are up, as the crowd gives a cheer. Bergman is certainly hurting, he’s clearly taken more damage throughout the match. But he’s sucking it up as best he can.

Sage cracks his neck. He marches to the center of the ring and raises his right arm.

A test of strength.

Joe nods and meets him in the center of the ring- but once he’s there, Pontiff kicks Bergman in the stomach and lands that gutwrench suplex!

Benny Newell: There ya go! Sage is here to win a match, NOT to worry about who’s last match it is!

Pontiff lifts a woozy Bergman off the canvas and connects with Atharvaveda, his release dragon suplex!

Joe Hoffman: This does not look good, Joe landed on the crown of his head!

Pontiff races over and pumps Bergman with a wild knee to the face. Sage hurls the vet into a corner and begins unloading again. It’s elbow after elbow to the side of the head before Pontiff whips Bergman into the corner across the way. Once Joe bounces out, Pontiff is there for an implant DDT. He pushes Bergman onto his back and looks for a pin-

When Bergman comes through with a desperation inside cradle!

ONE!

TWO!

NEARLY A THREE!

Pontiff can’t believe it. He pops to his knees and then levels Bergman with an elbow. Sage pulls at his hair, he’s shaking his head…

Joe Hoffman: Pontiff better not lose focus. Yes, that was almost a three but he’s STILL in control!

Bergman is struggling on all fours while Pontiff comes in with a shotgun dropkick to Joe’s face. Sage lifts Bergman up, tosses him into the ropes and then absolutely throws himself through Bergman’s body with what looks to be some kind of modified shoulder block/spear tackle.

Joe Hoffman: Pontiff is literally throwing his entire body at Bergman.

Joe is down and out. He lays on his back, motionless. Pontiff’s face is full of intensity as he contemplates what to do next. He begins kneeing Bergman in the side of the head, while trying to position him for his Canadian destroyer finisher…

The crowd is trying to give Joe life, but they aren’t sure he’s going to survive. Pontiff has Bergman in position-

And then Joe escapes and connects with a roundhouse kick. Bergman is on roller skates but he ultimately hits a superkick flush under Pontiff’s jaw. Bergman bounces off the ropes, leaps in the air and takes down Sage with a hurricanrana! Joe shoots up, he’s surviving off fumes now as the crowd continues to cheer…

Bergman turns to where Sage Pontiff should be…

But he’s not there.

Instead, Pontiff is behind Bergman. Sage latches onto Joe’s waist and throws the 214 in the air for a release German suplex!

Joe lands on his feet!

YOU STILL GOT IT!
YOU STILL GOT IT!

YOU STILL GOT IT!

Pontiff pulls at his hair. He charges at Bergman but Joe ducks and Sage hits the ropes. With Pontiff’s back turned to the vet, Joe grabs onto the PRIME star and tosses him over his head in Bergman’s own release German suplex!

The crowd is white hot and Bergman is feeling it. He Irish whips Sage into a corner but the California native hits the buckle so hard he flips right up it and now he’s sitting on the top buckle.

Bergman is going to meet Pontiff there. The crowd is on their feet, as both men are on top post, trying to go blow for blow. Suddenly, Sage slips away and lands on the second turnbuckle pad. He superkicks Bergman square in the jaw.

Joe Hoffman: This doesn’t look good…

Sage decides he’s going back to the top rope and he’s going to end Joe Bergman once and for all.

Pontiff hooks his right arm around Bergman and ensures Bergman’s left arm is also across his shoulders.

Joe Hoffman: Superplex time?

Pontiff pulls Bergman into a standing position. It doesn’t take long, a mere second after Pontiff pushes off the buckle with everything he has…

SLAM!

Superplex.

Joe Hoffman: SAGE HOLDS ON!

Pontiff floats over, still taking hold of Joe Bergman and connects with another suplex!

Sage STILL holds on! It looks like he’s going for a third suplex when out of nowhere Joe lowers his base, keeps his feet on the ground and somehow… someway… the wily vet connects with a falcon arrow suplex of his own.

AND HOOKS THE LEG.

ONE.

TWO.

KICKOUT!

The air is knocked out of the arena, as everything thought the match was over!

Joe Hoffman: I don’t know how Joe got that second wind! Bergman was hit with a suplerplex… then another suplex! How did he have the wherewithal to find a falcon arrow suplex!?

Benny Newell: The damage is done. That’s ALL Joe had left in him! Look at him, he’s DOA!

Benny’s words ring true… as the first person to move on the canvas is Sage Pontiff.

Joe Bergman hasn’t flinched.

No one in the bleachers sits. The crowd is prepared to witness the end of the match, and, of course, the end of one man’s career.

Pontiff is on his feet but he’s definitely feeling it. He looks down at Bergman and begins to position Joe…

Joe Hoffman: That’s all she wrote…

Sage takes one moment to look into the crowd and then a smile crosses his face. He takes a few steps back and charges at Bergman, looking for his Canadian destroyer-

WHAM!

Bergman connects with a standing dropkick!

The crowd is ruckus. Bergman barely has anything left… but he finds the second rope, pulls himself upright and measures Pontiff, leaping towards Sage with a cutter!

It connects.

Joe isn’t going to waste another second. He slides across the mat, hooks his arms around Pontiff’s neck…

And locks in the Dragon Sleeper!

Pontiff tries shouting at first. He’s even attempting to bite… but he can’t get his mouth anywhere close enough to Bergman’s flesh.

And he’s fading.

Fast.

Referee Matt Boettcher slides into position. He lifts Sage Pontiff’s hand…

Boettcher calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

The crowd gives a MASSIVE cheer upon Bergman being announced as the winner.

Joe Hoffman: He’s done it! In his last match… what a show of resiliency!

Benny Newell: Goodluck with your future endeavors. Can we move on now?

Bergman drops the hold the second the bell rings. He falls on his back, barely able to do anything else.

Bryan McVay: The winner of this match… JOE BERGMAN!!!!

Joe’s theme song plays as, finally, he’s able to stand, albeit with help from the ropes. Boettcher raises Bergman’s left arm, while the crowd continues to give a standing ovation.

Joe Hoffman: Bergman left it all on the line tonight. A heck of a career!

Even Benny Newell attempts to give in.

Benny Newell: Yeah, I guess. It was a good showing.

PWA 2 fades as Joe Bergman exits the ring and starts walking a lap around the outside, thanking as many fans in attendance as he can.

XY>XX

 

The sounds of the crowd reverberate through the backstage area of the Mexico City Arena as the crowd continues to buzz after the last match. In the corner, tucked away in the shadows of the backstage hallway, Solex is shown seated on a worn bench. Bent over with the type of focus that only a hardened combat veteran can have, he methodically laces his black combat boots, each pull and knot executed with sniper-like precision. With his boots tightly fastened, Solex slowly stands up and cracks his neck. The dim lighting from across the long corridor cast a series of dramatic shadows across his face that highlight the years of combat and pro-wrestling that have been etched into his face. His eyes lock onto the camera in the distance as a smug grin pulls on the corner of his mouth. With a deliberate slowness the camera zooms in, the lens fixed and centered on the HOTv Champion’s face.

Steve Solex: It’s funny that I’m back here in Mexico City. It’s actually kinda fitting, because in this very arena, only two weeks ago I became the greatest War Games Captain that has ever competed in professional wrestling when not only did my team win, but when my friend and protegé, STRONK!, became the HOW World Heavyweight Champion.

Solex rubs the sandpaper-like scruff on his chin where his glorious beard used to be as he continues to stare into the camera with a smirk.

Steve Solex: And tonight, I get to become the greatest professional wrestler who has ever competed in a PWA event when I absolutely fucking destroy that curly headed, no talent, light weight of a … woman … Lindsay Troy in the center of that ring in front of the tens of thousands of people in this arena, and in front of the millions of people watching around the world. Tonight I get to prove that the wrestling ring is no place for a woman and that the only thing that Lindsay Troy needs to concern herself with is what the back of a man’s hand tastes like every time she gets a little brave and wants to step out of line.

A ferocious chorus of boos erupt from the Mexican crowd as Solex’s voice booms from the sound system into the arena. Much to the dismay of the live audience, the boos only makes the sarcastic and arrogant smile on Solex’s face widen as he stands tall and soaks in the hatred from the crowd.

Steve Solex: Soft as baby shit, just like those PRIME fucks! I FUCKING LOVE IT!

The crowd continues to roar with boos, but again Solex smiles wide.

Steve Solex: LT, don’t let these people’s false confidence inspire you in any way. Don’t be fooled. You are what you are…and I am what I am. And there’s nothing you can do to change what that means. THE SCIENCE HAS BEEN SETTLED! I am stronger than you. I am smarter than you. And to be brutally fucking honest, I am better than you in every way imaginable!

The crowd’s boos continue to reverberate throughout the arena and backstage area, only adding fuel to Solex’s fire.

Steve Solex: Oh, come on. It’s true and every single one of you knows it! But, I can’t let my guard down, just because she’s a weak and pathetic woman. This isn’t a wrestling match, afterall, and I know that around any corner of this building is the possibility of ending up face to face with Ivan Stanislav. 

The crowd unexpectedly cheers at Solex’s mention of the Russian.

Steve Solex: The irony isn’t lost on me y’all.

Solex laughs and rolls his eyes.

Solex: If I was you … Ivan … I’d mind my own business and stay the hell out of the way, you COMMIE-FUCK. I’ve got no problem putting you in a sealed box, shoulder to shoulder, with that dumb bitch the minute this little game of capture-the-flag is over. And the same goes for any of you other … PRIMEates  … who might feel a little froggy tonight.

The crowd boos.

Steve Solex: Times up, LT. The only decision worse than calling yourself The Scarlet Sickle was signing up to face me tonight. The harsh reality of male exceptionalism is about to hit you right in the fucking face…and sweetheart, I’m here for it.

As the crowd’s boos continue to rock the arena, the camera begins to slowly pan back, giving the crowd one more look at the impressive stature and incredibly muscular frame of Solex. Solex holds his arms out to his sides, tilts his head back, shuts his eyes and takes in the enormity of the night in one deep breath. The boos of the crowd reaches new heights as the scene cuts back to the arena.

Conor Fuse vs. Cancer Jiles

 

From backstage, we return to the arena. The commentary table finds itself occupied with the PRIME commentary tandem of Nick Stuart and Richard Parker.

Nick Stuart: Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen! This second night of PWA-02 has been a monumental event thus far! In the next scheduled match, High Octane’s own fan favorite Conor Fuse will meet the universally derided Cancer Jiles of PRIME!

Richard Parker: I’m not sure I’m going to have the stomach for this match, Nick, but then again, I have been drinking the water. This might be the one match where I’d rather not see a PRIME star come out with a win.

Nick Stuart: That doesn’t surprise me. In any case, folks… due to contractual mandates made by one of the competitors, we are obligated to include an additional analyst tonight on the basis of “balancing” the calling in this match. That being said, allow me to welcome to our table the newly anointed “lead anchor” of Cracking News…

The camera pans out, revealing a third person sitting at the commentary table. It appears to be a pimple-faced teenager with the shittiest looking bleached hair wearing a white Member’s Only jacket over an Arthur Pleasant t-shirt.

Nick Stuart: …Chris Chickentenders…

Chris Chickentenders: That’s “COOL” Chris Chickentenders, Nick.

Nick Stuart: …I’m not saying that.

Chris Chickentenders: Too bad. You know, you guys probably feel real honored to be joined by the new anchor to Cracking News. Kinda makes me, like, a big deal.

Richard Parker: Hey, screw you, kid! I know it’s YOU that’s been sending me those threatening letters!

Chris Chickentenders: I have no idea what you’re talking about, Richard. First of all, thanks to the wonderful legal system they have down here in Mexico, I can proudly say that I am a “kid”… no longer. I sit with you gentlemen as a fellow man, ehhhuehuehuehuehue…

Richard Parker: God, that laugh…

Chris Chickentenders: Secondly, if somebody was sending you threatening letters, then maybe that’s a sign that you should be less of an ignorant douchebag on commentary? Food for thought, old dude. Otherwise, you can just eat my butt.

Richard Parker: Why you little–!!

Nick Stuart: Settle down, partner! This is hardly the time or place to pick a fight with a teenager!

Richard Parker: No, but this sure as hell is the one place where I can get away with it!

Chris Chickentenders: Settle down, Rich. We’re here to do a job. Kinda weak that it takes a real professional like me to remind you of that.

Richard Parker: (stammers uncontrollably in rage)

Chris Chickentenders: So tell me, guys, are the rules different down here in Mexico? Like, do people get put through the English-speaking commentary table rather than the Spanish one?

Nick Stuart: Uhhh, looks like things are about to get underway here. PRIME’s own Vince Howard is standing ready in the ring.

The entrance quickly becomes flooded with cosplaying comic book characters. From Batman to Spiderman, Dr. Doom to Grigori Rasputin, anyone you can think of is there. Even Colossus from the X-Men makes an appearance… except in this case he’s wearing a name tag that says COOLossus and looks a lot more like a skinny Cancer Jiles in silver paint. Regardless, once the stage is full, the group raises their arms and claps their hands in unison. They turn and point to the massive LCD screen hanging above the entrance.

The word COMICONOR appears.

The lights dim and “Is She With You?” by Hans Zimmer begins over the PA as a smoke bomb goes off on the rampway, covering the entire stage. Even cell phones aren’t able to look through this thick fog. Meanwhile, on the big screen, footage plays of Conor Fuse wrestling various High Octane opponents, in what looks to be edited like the signature to a DC Hollywood movie.

A scene stops on Cancer Jiles and the montage ends. The smoke on the stage has settled, and the original cosplay characters have vanished. Green ropes fall from the ceiling, looking like vines from plants. Numerous Poison Ivy cosplayers slide down the vines, sporting various poses.

Richard Parker: What the hell does Cirque du Soleil have to do with wrestling? What does this have to do with ANYTHING!?

Some of the Poison Ivys blow kisses into the stands while others continue to show off their flexibility. A few of them even reach the floor and start throwing green pixie dust into the air.

Richard Parker: This is pissing me off. I can’t believe we’re putting stock in Comic Book Guy to defeat Cancer Jiles.

Nick Stuart: Look, Conor Fuse is no joke. He’s an extreme risk taker, a two-time HOW World Champion, and a staple in DEFIANCE. He might be a little… uh, off, if you will, but look past the smoke and mirrors. Literally, look past them.

Richard Parker: I won’t hold my breath.

The broadcast feed switches to outside the arena, where a tumbler, similar to the vehicle found in The Dark Knight, speeds through the parking lot. An arena garage door opens and the tumbler enters, now driving through the backstage.

The crowd comes alive when the COMICONOR Mobile enters on the right, beside the elaborate staging. One of the Poison Ivys walks over as the car comes to a screeching halt and the driver’s door pops open…

This Poison Ivy’s face is shocked, because no one is inside.

Nick Stuart: If anything, I think this entrance is to piss off Cancer Jiles and take him off his game.

Richard Parker: It would’ve worked better if Jiles was, you know, already in the ring!

More smoke bombs explode, this time in the center of the squared circle. As the music continues to play, the lights dim again and a spotlight shines on the rampway entrance.

But nobody appears.

Finally, the smoke inside the ring clears and COMICONOR is revealed already inside the four corners, arms crossed, sporting a purple comic book inspired trench coat, while also covered in COMICONOR armor. The rest of the Poison Ivys enter the ring and start taking off Fuse’s additional gear.

Vince Howard: Introducing first… from Toronto, Ontario, Canada… weighing two-hundred-eight pounds… he is COMICONOR… CONOR FUUUUUUSSSSSSSEEEEEEE!!

There Conor stands in the center of the ring, sporting dark purple tights with comic book prints throughout. However, these are not sketches of real comic book scenes. Rather, they are markings of Conor and Jiles wrestling each other. There’s a sketch of Jiles being hit with the Super Splash 450 and another where The COOL has his head caved in via the Head Stomp. There’s even a drawing of Conor performing the Dark Phoenix Splash…

While Jiles bleeds yolk profusely.

Conor walks over to the referee as they exchange words. His theme song comes to a close and Fuse rests in a corner. However, the kid’s demeanor no longer seems carefree. He stares at the entrance, determined and intense.

Nick Stuart: I told you, when the bell goes… this guy is going to be a different animal.

Richard Parker: Well he better be. I nearly threw-up in my mouth many times over this nonsensical bullshit.

Vince Howard: And the opponent… hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and weighing in at two-hundred and eighteen pounds… representing PRIME Wrestling… please welcome, the COOLympian… the MAIN EVENT…CAANCEERRR JIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLEEEESSSSS!!!

The lights slowly draw to a dim.

A cool breeze moves through the air.

A gull, perhaps one from the sea, can be heard squawking.

Then, the beat of the wolf begins to pulsate throughout the arena.

Nick Stuart: This isn’t Screaming Jay Hawkings!

Richard Parker: It’s Hawkins. No G. And I can’t believe I have to root for this guy. Never in my life, Nick, NEVER DID I THINK THIS DAY WOULD COME. I can’t wait for this to be over, and for Rezin to smoke this fool at ReVival 30.

Nick Stuart: Me either, yet here we are. 2023. Chris, anything you’d like to add?

The guest commentator does not answer. He can not. He is too amazed. He is too overcome. Plus, the bottom of his jaw is in Beijing eating nuk soo kow and he has good table manners.

Nick Stuart: Jiles is rolling DEEP tonight at PWA 2! I think that’s Max Shell! Oh. Wait. It’s just a cardboard cutout a fan threw towards the entrance ramp.

Nick isn’t lying. The whole fucking crew is here. All of them. The Bandits. Out first is Beautiful Bobby Dean. He’s got on his PRIME color tracksuit, and seems more than happy to not be competing here tonight. Next is Lunchbox Laser, and he has a bound and gagged Abe Lipshitz slung over his shoulder. Both of them are also in PRIME color tracksuits as well.

Richard Parker: Hopefully they tie a weight to the bottom of Abe’s leg and drop him overboard on their way home.

Nick Stuart: Fair.

Behind LL and appearing for the first time ever as the eGG Queen is Lindsay Troy. Not that she is dressed as the eGG Queen, it just says it in the graphic on the screen. Also this is clearly a cardboard cutout because she’s in the back getting ready for the main event, you know that show ending match that Jiles used to be in once upon a time that he’s probably never going to be in again because you didn’t ask me ahead of time if this was ok, GEORGE?

Richard Parker: I’d literally take anyone else out there right now over Jiles. Anyone. Even the alien living inside Bobby Dean.

Lastly, the Greek God of COOL, Cancer Jiles, emerges. His hair is best in show. The mirror tint on his T-Shades is cocaine sniff ready. The collar on his PRIME colored tracksuit is popped to the sky.

Richard Parker: I hate this. I hate this more than anything.

There is no mixed reaction for Jiles. Everyone there boos. Everyone. Both the PRIMEates and the Octanites alike. Their fervor doesn’t matter though. It has no effect. This is Cancer Jiles. KING COOL. He doesn’t falter. He doesn’t fetter. He doesn’t flake. Not on PRIME. No, he is him, and him, rather he, simply smiles widely for all to see and then releases a short burst of COOLYPIAN YOLJK into the air to mark his territory.

Nick Stuart: Lucky fan. I bet he paid a lot for that seat.

After wiping his mouth and then exchanging high fives with the Bandits, Jiles, alone, heads toward the ring. Well, he slaps everyone high five except for the eGG Queen. She is of the fancy regal blood, and therefore does not touch the help. Not even if the help is a demigod who descended from Mount COOLYMPUS. Also, again, a cardboard cutout. Once down there, THE MAIN EVENT takes the long way around just so the people at ringside can get a good look at him. Plus, he stops by the announce table to hand off his precious T-Shades to Chris Chickentenders.

If his parents are watching the live broadcast, tell them CPR was administered and Chris was brought back to life.

Nick Stuart: Jiles said he had something special for Conor Fuse. Something from memory lane. My guess is it’s under that tracksuit.

Richard Parker: You don’t think they were…

WOLF TOTEM continues to blare. Jiles makes his way up the steps, and with one leg through the ropes tells his close buddy Timo Bolamba to keep Conor back while he’s entering the ring. Timo does as he’s told, albeit begrudgingly, and Conor rolls his eyes in return.

Nick Stuart: Maybe we’ll have a match at some point. Who knows?

The Maestro arrogantly moves to the center of the ring, and stares into his opposition’s eyes. He waits a few seconds, and then tears the tearaway PRIME colored tracksuit from his body in one swift motion.

Richard Parker: Check out his wrestling tights, Nick! Those aren’t his normal ones! Jiles has Conor Fuse’s face on them!

Nick Stuart: If I had to guess Jiles had them made after he defended the High Octane World Championship against Conor Fuse back in 2021. If I had to guess.

Conor seethes.

Cancer puckers.

Timo calls for the bell.

DING DING

Chris Chickentenders: Gentlemen… worlds are about to COOLlide.

Richard Parker: Please unplug him, Nick. I’m begging you.

Grinning ear to ear, Fuse energetically bounds out of his corner. Sneering in repugnance, Jiles reluctantly comes out of his own and joins him in the center of the ring. They circle each other for a beat before Conor offers up his hand.

Nick Stuart: Fuse is wanting to break the ice here with an old fashioned test of strength! But will Cancer go for it?

Richard Parker: Of course not. Because it’s a gesture of class and respect.

Chris Chickentenders: Class and respect are like, overrated, dude.

Cancer’s expression is one that suggests that Conor’s fluttering fingers look as appealing to him as one of Bobby’s bathroom towels. He instead propositions his own hand.

BOOOOOOOO!!

Richard Parker: UGH… figures!

Chris Chickentenders: Hey man, he doesn’t know where that hand has been. Like my cousin Craig’s Switch controller. Freakin’ GROSS, dude!

Fuse merely chuckles, and goes for it…

Nick Stuart: Cancer with a BOOTTOTHEGUT–!

NO.

RRRAAAAAAAHHHH!!

Nick Stuart: CAUGHT by Conor!

Cancer finds himself stuck on a single leg, the other caught up in the hands of a grinning Conor. Before he can react, Fuse pushes back, and Jiles ends up stumbling back to the ropes. Conor (some would say) graciously allows him a moment to regain his bearings, enthusiastically hopping between feet in the center of the ring while the capacity crowd

Nick Stuart: Jiles went for the cheap shot, but Fuse wasn’t about to be fooled by that!

Richard Parker: On!

Chris Chickentenders: …um… yeah, I think Cancer forgot to wipe his boots when he came into the ring.

Nick Stuart: Well Fuse, a two-time HOW World Champion in his own right, is hardly the kind of competitor for anyone to wipe their feet on!

Presiding official Timo Bolamba chides the lingering Jiles for delaying the action and tells him to get the fight going. Cancer doesn’t even waste the effort looking to the ref to show him his sneer of indignance, but finally breaks away from the ropes. Only because he wants to, though.

They go straight into a lock-up, only for Jiles to slip under and around to find Conor trapped into a waistlock. Cancer forces him toward a corner, only for Conor to spryly run up the turnbuckle and somersaults over Cancer in a display of agility that switches their positions and gets a rise from the crowd.

Again, Fuse doesn’t capitalize, but stands hopping in the center of the ring beaming his daring smile while Cancer stands in the corner completely red-faced.

Nick Stuart: You can truly sense that Fuse is getting under the skin of Cancer Jiles!

Richard Parker: If anyone can, it’s c0nOr!

Chris Chickentenders: Speak for yourself, Rich. It’s obvious that Cancer lives in your butt rent free.

Richard Parker: That’s now how that… ugh, whatever.

Jiles’s lips curl into a sour pucker of contempt. He marches out of the corner and the two lock up once again. Cancer is the clear aggressor now, delivering a trio of knee lifts to Fuse’s mid-section to back him into the corner. Bolamba is immediately there to call for the break. Cancer, blatantly getting his hands into Conor’s face, once again doesn’t seem to acknowledge Timo’s ability to carry any respectable level of authority.

Timo Bolamba: Break it up, Cancer! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOU–

Jiles breaks.

SLAP!

BOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick Stuart: Yikes! They could hear that all the way back home!

Chris Chickentenders: Ehuehuehuehheee…

The smile is gone from Conor’s face… but only briefly. Giving his jaw a brief rubdown, Fuse rolls his shoulders and comes out of the corner with his game face on. Pun intended. He joins Jiles in the middle of the ring looking for another lock up, but Cancer is waiting for him with another boot to the gut, this time connecting, and snags the arm into a single wristlock.

Cancer wrenches the arm, torquing Fuse’s shoulder, but Conor doesn’t stay put long, flipping over onto his feet to reverse with a sharp arm wringer of his own that snaps Cancer over onto his back. Conor quickly pulls him back up by the same arm and Irish whips him to the ropes.

Nick Stuart: Jiles in motion now… ducks a leapfrog from Fuse, who goes the other way… Cancer comes back with a running clothesline–but NO! He instead goes to the mat off the SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK by Conor!

Chris Chickentenders: Ugh… wall kicks are so lame.

Jiles rolls over onto his knees and again backs to the ropes for safety, holding up his hand and begging off Fuse. Conor sees the hand as an invitation for a high-five, which he joyously accepts, and then yanks Cancer back to his feet.

Richard Parker: Don’t give that scumbag even a second, cOn0r!

Nick Stuart: Fuse pulling Jiles up, traps him into a low front waistlock… and a RELEASED NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX sends the COOLympian flying over onto his back!

Cancer is clutching his back when he again rolls to his knees. Groping again for the ropes, he blubbers to Timo about keeping that punk off of him, but now it’s Bolamba’s turn to pretend to hear nothing. Conor presses the advantage, pushing Jiles off the ropes to send him running again.

Nick Stuart: Jiles off the ropes… and Fuse is ready on the return for a HURRICANRANA! Timo is there for the count!

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout by Jiles!

Richard Parker: Faster, Timo! FASTER!

Chris Chickentenders: Obviously, Richard, they have a different numerical system on the island of Fiji.

Richard Parker: …Bolambo is SAMOAN, you idiot!

Chris Chickentenders: He certainly is “someone”.

Richard Parker: …Nick, can I hit him? Just once?

Nick Stuart: Easy, partner… maybe just try ignoring him and focusing on the match?

Cancer scrambles under the ropes immediately after the kickout and powders out to ringside to mentally reassess the situation. The fans across the barricade jeer him in a plethora of languages that he both can and cannot understand, but their sentiment cannot be mistaken.

Richard Parker: Looks like Cancer can’t take the heat!

Chris Chickentenders: Ehhuehuehuehueee… you know nothing, Rich. He’s just reCOOLlecting himself.

Unphased by the opinions of mere plebeians, Jiles runs his hands through his heavenly white hair, and flicks his sweat into the front row. But when he turns his attention back to the ring, he discovers a human torpedo hurtling at him through the ropes!

Nick Stuart: SUICIDE DIVE by “The Vintage” Conor Fuse, completely laying out Cancer at ringside!

Richard Parker: Serves him right for taking his eyes off the match.

Chris Chickentenders: Sometimes, Rich, a star has gotta show these ungrateful butt-heads their place. Cancer’s just reminding them that seeing a star like him should be, like, a privilege.

Nick Stuart: Cancer is certainly seeing stars himself, as Jiles lights him up before throwing him back into the ring!

Jiles is knocked loopy, but nevertheless staggers up to his feet. Fuse doesn’t immediately follow him in, instead scaling the ringpost.

Nick Stuart: Conor is going UP TOP!

Chris Chickentenders: Heads up, Cancer! He’s using the -noclip cheat!

Nick Stuart: DIVING CROSSBODY CONNECTS and Fuse makes the PIN!

ONE!

TWO!

NO!! Jiles kicks out!

Richard Parker: Stay on him, c()nOuR! There’s no pause button here!

Fuse pops back to his feet and launches himself into the ropes for some speed. Cancer gets up in time to be met with a flipping neckbreaker by the returning Conor to put him back to the mat. He reaches for his neck and winces, but Fuse is only getting warmed up as he kips up to his feet and springs into the ropes again, bouncing off into a graceful backflip!

Nick Stuart: SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT by Conor Fuse! Hooking the legs for another pin attempt, and Timo with the count!

ONE!

TWO!

But Cancer gets the shoulder up again!

Chris Chickentenders: All this cheap flippy crap can go eat my butt! Cancer can’t even get a chance to get to his feet!

Richard Parker: Hopefully, he never does! I take back everything I ever said about Cirque du Soleil!

Once again on his feet, Conor backs into the corner and plots his next move. Slowly, he lowers his knuckles, taps the canvas, and pumps his fist high into the air a la Mega Man.

Conor Fuse: ARMA… OBTENER!!

RRRAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

Chris Chickentenders: What did he say? I don’t speak “l33tspeak” like some boomer.

Richard Parker: I believe the accurate translation is “get BENT, Cancer!”

Jiles is still trying to catch his breath as he works himself off the mat. Clutching the top rope, Fuse begins loading the boot.

!RANGO

!RANGO

!RANGO

!RANGO

Nick Stuart: This could spell doom for Cancer! Conor Fuse has him locked in his sights!

Jiles finally gets himself back onto two jelly-filled legs, and slowly turns around just as Fuse bursts forward with a SUPERKICK!

Nick Stuart: Looking to give Cancer a taste of his own medicine with TERMINAL–

Cancer yanks Timo into the path!

Nick Stuart: NO!! Look out, Timo!

Thrown off balance, Fuse has to put on the brakes at the last minute to keep himself from kicking the Samoan Slicer’s head clear off his shoulders. By the time he turns around, Jiles is there to greet him with a European uppercut that sends spittle and effluvia arcing through the air. Conor twirls off the impact and is left staggering in a daze, leaving himself open to a running forearm strike to the back of the head to drop him to the mat.

BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Nick Stuart: Fuse to the mat, and Cancer Jiles may have finally turned this match into his favor, although it’s heavily thanks in part to using the ref as a human shield!

Chris Chickentenders: A brilliant and next-level tactic, that only a genius like Cancer Jiles can pull off in a pinch.

Richard Parker: Damn! What was Timo thinking, getting close to the action?!

Nick Stuart: Trying to officiate the match? I mean, unfortunate as his positioning was at that time, it is his job.

Conor Fuse crawls his way into the corner, but the punishment comes back in spades as Cancer Jiles stomps a mudhole into him so deep he might as well put up oil derricks. Timo’s calls for him to let up fall on deaf ears. Tired of being ignored, the official grabs Jiles by the shoulder to pull him back. In doing so, he sets Cancer off, and the COOLypmian responds in kind by giving Timo a hard SHOVE to the chest.

OOOOOOHHH…

Nick Stuart: Oh boy! He’s asking for trouble now!

The enraged scowl on the Samoan Slicer’s face could sink entire islands. Timo steps forward and catches Jiles off guard with a shove of his own that knocks him onto his ass. Cancer is aghast, but the official tugs his shirt and dares him to do something about it.

RRRAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

Chris Chickentenders: Stupid Tim Alabama! What kind of umpire wears facepaint anyway?!

Richard Parker: That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night, kid, but for once, Timo is being Timo for a righteous cause!

Nick Stuart: What do you mean ‘for once’, Rich? Timo’s a saint!

Chris Chickentenders: More like a TAINT! Ehhuehuehuehuehueee…

Jiles takes his anger out on Fuse, dragging him out of the corner to continue his vicious assault of stomps, now while also verbally berating the Samoan Slicer turned wrestling referee, his professionalism, his ability to call a match, and his litany of allegedly illegitimate children. When he gets tired of wearing out his soles on Conor’s head and shoulders, he extends the arm and gives the fingers a stamp.

Nick Stuart: Cancer Jiles continues to go to work on Fuse, stomping him into a pulp and leaving him helpless to be picked back up off the mat! There’s a rear waistlock… and the GERMAN SUPLEX bridges Conor’s shoulders to the mat!

ONE!

 

TWO!!

 

THR–SHOULDER UP, by Conor! Still some hearts left in his life bar!

Chris Chickentenders: Yeah, but only a paltry few. And it’s at that point where it keeps making that annoying sound like BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP–

Richard Parker: MY GOD, SHUT UP!!

Chris Chickentenders: Geez… say it, don’t spray it, old dude. Don’t take it out on me because you hate Nintendo’s game design.

Jiles takes Fuse by the head to pull him back up and this time leads him to a corner, viciously driving his head into the top turnbuckle over and over. When he finally has him softened up, Cancer lifts Conor up to the top rope. Timo begins protesting, but the COOLympian dismisses him with a flick off his chin and climbs up to join Fuse.

Nick Stuart: We’re going into risky territory here as Jiles brings Conor to the top rope! He hooks the head and grabs the waistband, looking for the SUPLERPLEX… but it’s BLOCKED by Fuse!

Richard Parker: Fight, you weird comic nerd! Do literally ANYTHING right now!

Nick Stuart: Shots to the ribs leave Jiles stunned… and DOWN HE GOES after a shove by Conor.

Chris Chickentenders: HyhwhuuAAT?!

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Cancer sprawls backwards and lands awkwardly on his head, flopping lifelessly onto his back off the impact. He looks completely OUT, and Conor doesn’t look the gift horse in the mouth. Quickly, he repositions his feet to the top rope.

Nick Stuart: Hang on, Conor Fuse now in a position to do something!

Richard Parker: Do it, kAwNuWOAr! Give him the FLIPPIEST of FLIPS!

!RANGO

!RANGO

!RANGO

!RANGO

Nick Stuart: Fuse off the top with the SUPER SPLASH–

Knees up!

NOOOOOOOO!!!

Chris Chickentenders: EEHHUEHUEHUEHUEHUEHUEHUEHUEHUEHUEEEEE FUCKING BAAAADAAAASSSS!!!

Nick Stuart: JILES WAS PLAYING POSSUM!!

Richard Parker: THE RAT BASTARD!! THE RAT POSSUM BASTARD!!

Nick Stuart: INSIDE CRADLE FOR THE WIN!

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

THRRRR–KICKOUT!!

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Nick Stuart: I thought for a minute that could have been it! A classic deception by the COOLympian, but still not enough to win him this match!

Chris Chickentenders: Ugh… Conor can eat my butt! Obviously, Timo stalled on that last count! Cause he was temporarily blinded! By his stupid face paint! Because it melted it off his face from all the sweat he’s building up from worrying about how bad Cancer’s gonna kick his butt after this match!

Richard Parker: Oh, for crying out… you know, for as much as you spin facts, I’m beginning to understand why Cancer made you his lead anchor.

Chris Chickentenders: EAT my BUTT, Rich! Eat it after I ate TACO BELL!!

Jiles looks at Timo in disbelief, then follows through all five stages of grief in a matter of moments. The crowd doesn’t make the process any easier.

!RANGO

!RANGO

!RANGO

!RANGO

Jiles explodes to his feet. Fuse, clutching his ribs and struggling to breathe, is powerless as he’s yanked back to his feet and kicked to the gut. Cancer stuffs him with a DDT that spikes him so hard it sets him into a perfect headstand and planks to the canvas.

BOOOOOOOOO!!!

Cancer picks Conor up and does it again. Just because he can.

BOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick Stuart: Cancer Jiles has officially thrown off the gloves in this match, drilling Conor Fuse back to back DDTs straight to the head! I don’t know how anyone can withstand that!

Richard Parker: He’s not too good for cheat codes, is he?

Chris Chickentenders: Probably not. Unlike me, cause I always use cheat codes. I mean, the point is to, like, win, right?

Jiles struts to the corner. He clutches the top rope. He loads the boot. Conor struggles to rise. Mexico City cheers him on.

!RANGO

!RANGO

!RANGO

!RANGO

Nick Stuart: The COOLympian may be looking to put this one away!

Chris Chickentenders: Perfect timing! I got chicks waiting on me backstage.

Richard Parker: Oh, shut up, kid! If this nerd doesn’t flip his way out of this, I’ll hate him for life!

Fuse pushes himself up. Drops again to a knee. Jiles is coiled like a diamondback in the bush. Conor pushes himself up again…

Nick Stuart: Fuse back up… and here comes CANCER WITH THE–

Terminal Cancer.

Nick Stuart: TERMINAL CANCER!! TERMINAL CANCER!! TERMINAL CANCER…

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Nick Stuart: …by CONOR FUUUUUSE!!

Chris Chickentenders: OOOAAAWWW THIS SUCKS!! This EATS SO MUCH NASTY BUTT!!

Jiles drops to the canvas, a twitching mess, and Conor falls flat across his chest…

Nick Stuart: HE’S GOT THE PIN!!

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

THRREE–

Kickout.

Richard Parker: BWAAHH you gotta be kidding me!

AAAAWWWwwww…

Nick Stuart: The counter superkick OUTTANOWHERE hit its mark perfectly, but was still not enough to put down Cancer Jiles!

Chris Chickentenders: WHOA… that was INTENSE! But there’s no way Cancer would ever allow himself to fall to his own move. He invented the superkick, you know.

Both men lie exhausted on the mat after a rigorous battle. Bolamba begins a ten count, and the crowd gets loud, rousing both competitors to continue.

Well… let’s be honest, mostly just rousing Conor. Cancer is pushing himself back up out of spite by this point. Several agonizing seconds later, they’re up on their knees and hobbling toward each other.

Cancer lands a knife edge chop.

BOOOOOOOOO!!!

Conor responds in kind with a slap.

RRRAAAAAAAAAHHH!

Cancer chops.

BOOOOOOOOO!!!

Conor slaps.

RRRAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

Cancer chops.

BOOOOOOOOO!!!

Conor slaps.

RRRAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

And slaps.

RRRAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

And SLAPS!

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!

Nick Stuart: Fuse unloads on Jiles with a flurry of rights and lefts!

Richard Parker: Doing something every single one of us wishes we could have done to Jiles for years!

Chris Chickentenders: Speak for yourself, doofus…

Nick Stuart: Conor Fuse, mounting a comeback against one of the most–EYE RAKE!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Timo practically SPITS at the blatant gouge to the face, but is powerless to do anything as Cancer sizes up COMICONOR and puts his foot where the face is.

Chris Chickentenders: FUUUUUCK YEEEEEAAAAH TERMINAL CANCER!!

Richard Parker: NO!! GOD NO!! SOMEBODY GIVE HIM AN EXTRA LIFE!!

Nick Stuart: With just a single desperate act, and Cancer Jiles may have stolen this match out from under Conor Fuse!

With Conor Fuse finally on his back and at his feet, Cancer stands tall in triumph. He savors the moment. The audience boos thunderously. Millions watching at home are furiously creaming at their television sets. He has them all in the palm of his hand. Victorious, he leans down within inches of Fuse’s face, and whispers a message…

…that never gets heard.

Because without warning, he’s snatched off his feet and rolled forward by the legs of Conor Fuse.

Nick Stuart: ROLLING PRAWN HOLD!!

Chris Chickentenders: WhudthuhFWAAH?!

Nick Stuart: SHOULDERS DOWN!!

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

THREEEE!! GOT HIM!!

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!

Chris Chickentenders: WHAT THE FUCK, NO WAY!!

DING DING DING

Richard Parker: YYYYEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!!

Hans Zimmer hits the PA. Arena Mexico becomes fuego with the thunderous peal of cheers.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match, by pinfall…

COMICONOR… COOOOOONNNOOOOOOOORRR FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSEEEE!!!

With what strength he has left, Conor Fuse slips out of the ring as the eGG Bandits run in at all angles and throw themselves upon their fallen king.

Nick Stuart: When all seemed lost, poise and patience eventually paid off for the two-time former HOW World Champion! A hard-fought victory for Conor Fuse, and Cancer leaves Mexico with egg on his face!

Richard Parker: He did it by the skin of his teeth, but against my every expectation, cAwNoAr pulled it off, and I can sleep soundly tonight! Plus, it finally shut the Baby Bandit up! Got anything to say now, kid?

Chris Chickentenders: UH… UH… DUDE…

Nick Stuart: Fuse may have picked up the pinfall, but this was arguably far from a decisive win. I’m almost certain things are far from finished between these two. I’m also certain that the COOLympian will have a thing or two to say about this…

Richard Parker: More than likely, he’ll just punt it over to his resident spin doctor over here, Douchie Howser.

Chris Chickentenders: SHUT UP, Parker! And eat my butt! One day, I SWEAR I will kill you!

Nick Stuart: Hey now! Take it down a notch!

Abruptly, Chickentenders pops to his feet, stomps over to where Richard is sitting, pops an egg into his mouth, and defiles the color commentator by–

Chris Chickentenders: BLUGH!!

Oh wait, scratch that last part. Instead of doing whatever he was intending to do, Chris begins gagging as yolk pours from the corners of his mouth. Richard and Nick exchange confused glances.

Richard Parker: …what the hell are you doing?

Chris Chickentenders: Ugh… I was gonna, like, spit egg all over you, but I forgot to boil it!

Richard Parker: Great… can we get security out here, already?

Mexican police enter the frame and begin to drag the teenager away.

Chris Chickentenders: WAIT! I gotta get Cancer his glasses back!

Richard Parker: That’s okay! I’ll make sure they get to him.

Chickentenders gets an arm free as the police escort him away, and shakes it with all his might.

Chris Chickentenders: I’LL KILL YOU, PARKER!! MARK MY WORDS!!

Finally, he’s gone. The PRIME commentary team shake their heads in dismay.

Nick Stuart: Folks, on behalf of PRIME, I want to apologize for the quality of commentary tonight. Clearly, this doesn’t represent the standard we strive for at PRIME Wrestling.

Richard Parker: We swear, our hands were tied!

Nick Stuart: However, the main event is still to come tonight! Once again, I’m Nick Stuart, and on behalf of my associate Richard Parker, enjoy the rest of the evening!

Rated M for Miscellaneous

Deep in the bowels of Arena Mexico (but not too deep), a certain Hall of Fame wrestler has locked himself away in a bathroom.  Jatt Starr stands over the sink looking at himself in the mirror.   He looks panicked and pallid.   He is in the midst of a minor anxiety attack.  His hands are clasped on the side of the porcelain sink.   He looks up at himself in the mirror, his eyes welling up, his lip quivers ever so slightly.

Jatt Starr:  Calm down.  It was a fluke.  You’re still the Ruler of Jattlantis, the Thane of Starrkarth, the Sovereign of Starrgentina, the Rembrandt of Wrestling.  You can kick out of a roll up.

The Jattinum Standard is unable to convince even himself of that.  How can he pep himself up if doesn’t believe a word he is saying?  Instead, he looks at the broken, weak, pathetic reflection in the mirror and lets out a pained, angry scream.

Jatt Starr:  Try this again….You’re not a fraudulent champion.  Dan Ryan has your back, he could have ditched you for someone else, but he’s stuck by you.  Natalie wouldn’t have married a loser, she even told you it didn’t matter, it happens, it didn’t make you less of a man….why would she say “less of a man” if she wasn’t already thinking it, right?  She saw it…Joe Bergman…JOE BOOGERMAN….roll up for ten seconds….what the hell is wrong with you?!  How can you let that happen?  You suck!  You’re-you’re-you’re an irrelevant fribble!  A dunderhead!   Imposter!

The Marquis of MadagaStarr’s reverse pep talk is immediately interrupted by some loud banging on the bathroom door.  A familiar voice comes from the other side of the door.

Dan Ryan:  Jatt!  You in there?!  We’re up next!

Jatt Starr:  Occupied!

Dan Ryan:  Are you having a crisis of confidence in there?

Jatt Starr:  What?!  No!  Of course not!  I’m so super confident that I’m, uh, pleasuring myself to impure thoughts of….sexy…booby sexy time with….a woman….of awesome boobage….

Jatt froze, no one was coming to mind.  Instead, he blurted out the first non-HOW female wrestler that popped in his head….

Jatt Starr:  ….Sunny O’Callahan….and I’m feeling really…..conflicted about it….and guilty…

Dan Ryan:  Stop messing around and get out here!   We’ve got to go…..and wash your hands!

The Mayor of ManJattan looks back at himself in the mirror.   He just stares at himself, a couple of seconds turns to five seconds which turns to eleven seconds.  Finally, with a scornful glare, disgusted at his own reflection, he sniffs, hocks, and spits a greenish glob of phlegm onto the mirror.  As the phlegm oozes down across his reflection in the mirror, he forces his look of contempt into a phony smile.

Jatt Starr:  You are the Ruler of Jattlantis, you are the HOTv Co-World Champion, and EN DANICUS JATTICUS VINCIUM will be victorious!  Damn, I almost believe it..

The Baron of Boca Jatton buttons his jacket and turns towards the door, patting the HOTv Tag Team Championship, and heads out as the scene ends.

The Final Alliance© vs. Surf Express Bros vs. Winds of Change

 

Vince Howard: This is a tornado tag team match for the brand new PWA Tag Team Championships! Introducing first… one of the challenging teams… they are the current MVW Tag Team Champions… Bradlee Nelson and Bowie Abrams… SURF EXPRESS BRO!

The crowd gives a cheer as “Nothin’ But a Good Time” by Poison plays over the PA and Surf Express Bro make their way down to ringside.

Richard Parker: Do these idiots know where they are and what’s on the line?

Nick Stuart: I hope so? For their sakes.

Nelson and Abrams roll into the ring while their theme song comes to a close and Howard moves on.

“I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go…”

It’s the familiar theme of the Winds of Change, Oingo Boingo’s “Dead Man’s Party”. Only the reception for this song isn’t exactly what it’d been in the past year. There’s murmuring and confusion and more than a little booing. The pair of Joe Fontaine and Sid Phillips burst out from behind the curtains and head for the ring, paying little heed to the vocal fans in Mexico.

Vince Howard: The other challenging team… from Phoenix, Arizona… at a total combined weight of, uh… 2.8 powerbombs… JOE FONTAINE and SID PHILLIPS… THE WINDS! OF! CHAAAAAAAAAANGE!

Joe, with his doofus grin of confidence, can’t help but throw up the double birds for everyone to see. Sid doesn’t bother. He has the grim face of a man ready to powerbomb everything that moves, doesn’t move, or really in any state of existence whatsoever. Watch out, grandpa, that’s what I’m saying.

Nick Stuart: I can’t believe these two are showing their faces anywhere after the stunt they pulled last week.

Richard Parker: They can go wherever they want, Nick. No one’s gonna tell them “no” any more.

Both Joe and Sid take their time circling around the ring. Joe is still holding up deuces, while Sid simply walks in Joe’s shadow, threatening away anyone who might throw a bottle of piss at the two of them.

Nick Stuart: They better gear up, though. It’s not getting any easier…

Finally, after a lifetime of stalling, rude gestures and generally being a dick, Joe Fontaine rolls underneath the bottom rope… and keeps rolling until he reaches the other side of the ring so he can sit on the apron and use his middle fingers to perform a crotch chop in the general direction of some grandmothers, which is a verboten rude gesture that should have been left in the 90s where it belonged. Sid, who climbs into the ring a while ago, only shakes his damn head.

Richard Parker: Here come the HOTv tag team champions.

The camera pans over Arena Mexico. There’s a buzz in the air as the audience, the commentators, the timekeepers, the gatekeepers, the candlestick bleepers await the entrance of the HOTv Tag Team Champions (they would be disappointed if it were anyone else). Slowly, the lights in the arena start to dim, almost to black, but not quite. Then, “Daddy’s Home” by TJ Music begins.

A lightning effect flashes in the arena, followed by a thundering sound, and music begins to play.

The strobe lightning effect continues, and as the opening lines of the first verse start to play, two figures – one much larger than the other – step out onto the stage. Their appearance is met with another thundering sound, this time the sound of a healthy mixture of cheers and boos from all over the building.

Dan Ryan and Jatt Starr, collectively now known as “IN DANICUS JATTICUS VINCIMUS” stand center stage, one next to the other, soaking it in, their HOTv Tag Team Championships resting over their shoulders. Yes, Dan Ryan has been booed most of his career. They take a moment to soak it all in.

Suddenly, the music shifts from “Daddy’s Home” to “Back in Black” by AC/DC which prompts them to start walking down the ramp. Ryan has a natural confidence and swagger in his gait as he heads down the ramp, in his mind, this match is already won. The Ruler of Jattlantis, the Hero of Jattlanta, the Sultan of SeaJattle, Jatt Starr attempts to match his partner’s level of confidence, but to those who are paying close enough attention, they can tell it is just an act. The Jattinum Standard is less sure (moreso in his own abilities and letting down Dan Ryan rather than any lack of confidence in his partner).

Halfway down the ramp, someone throws something in their direction, but, with catlike reflexes unseen in a man his size, Dan Ryan sidesteps it but the cup of beer nails Jatt Starr in the side of the head (which is incredibly insensitive to the Jattlantic City Idol considering he is a recovering alcoholic and the sheer wastefulness of the cerveza). There is no EPU to hunt and beat down the fan, instead they rely on security.

Nick Stuart: You have to think these two men are the favourites, even if you like Phillips and Fontaine’s change in attitude.

Richard Parker: No love for the stoners? (pause) I’m joking; they’re worthless.

Nick Stuart: And yet Surf Express Bro are the only team who might have the whole arena on their side.

Jatt Starr and Dan Ryan make it to the ring, Jatt still wiping the beverage off the side of his face, Dan stops and looks out into the crowd once again, soaking in the reaction with no expression. Ryan cracks his neck before looking at Jatt. They both nod at each other and then climb up onto the apron and enter through the ropes. Ryan dashes into the ropes, bounces off and sprints to a turnbuckle, step-climbing up and then roaring into the crowd and settling into a snarling stare out at the masses as the Duke of Jattmandu steps onto the second turnbuckle, raises the HOTv Tag Team Championship into the air.

Both men hop down and head to a corner, mumbling and whispering strategies on how to handle the match as they wait.

Nick Stuart: Well, we’ve got tornado tag rules for this one, so you better be sharp, partner.

Richard Parker: I’m the colour guy, you’re the play-by-play. You better be sharp. Also, there’s no way you catch all this action. Godspeed.

DING DING

Jimmy Turnbull calls for the bell when Joe Fontaine and Sid Phillips quickly find Bradlee Nelson and Bowie Abrams, rolling them BOTH up into small packages! Jimmy picks one of the pins and counts.

ONE.

TWO.

BOTH ARE BROKEN UP BY RYAN AND STARR!

Nick Stuart: We almost had new champions!

Richard Parker: Surprised Sid didn’t go for a powerbomb there.

Ryan tosses Phillips out of the ring while Jatt clocks Fontaine under the jaw. Ryan hits the ropes and nearly takes Nelson’s head off with a big boot while Jatt, who doesn’t move as quickly, takes hold of Abrams and whips him into a corner.

Ryan hammers elbows down on Nelson, as Bradlee stumbles around the canvas, not being completely put out of his misery. Starr continues to knock Abrams in the corner, but Joe Fontaine hops onto the apron, takes hold of Starr’s head and hangs him up on the top rope.

Joe gives the middle finger to Starr as the champ falls to the mat, where Abrams explodes out of the corner, realizing he has a chance. He jumps on top of Jatt and hooks BOTH legs! Jimmy sees the pin, drops to the mat and starts counting.

ONE.

 

TWO.

 

NO!

Broken up by Sid Phillips! Phillips immediately takes Abrams and positions him into a powerbomb…

Connecting!

Nick Stuart: I’m stunned! If it wasn’t for Phillips, I’m not sure Jatt would’ve kicked out of that pin fall attempt!

Richard Parker: You can see it. Jatt’s confidence has been shot and this right here is not going to do you any favours, almost losing the match to a Surf Express Bro.

Phillips tries for a second powerbomb on Abrams when Dan Ryan comes in with a clothesline! Sid stumbles back but he’s not knocked off his feet.

Nick Stuart: Really the only man who can measure-up to Ryan’s size. We’ve got six-foot-seven Dan Ryan against six-foot-five Sid Phillips.

Phillips ends up bouncing off the ropes and running shoulder-to-shoulder against Dan Ryan. Neither man budges.

They stare at each other.

Meanwhile, they don’t see Surf Express Bro scaling the top rope on both sides of them. Nelson and Abrams jump-

Ryan catches Nelson by the neck and Phillips clobbers Abrams in the shoulder. Sid, of course, is looking for a powerbomb while Ryan hooks his arms around Nelson’s neck and attempts a full nelson slam.

WHAM!

Both men hit their moves at the same time and then turn back to each other-

Only for Joe Fontaine to slide underneath Dan Ryan and find The Marquis of MadagaStarr making his way over. Fontaine ducks a Jatt Starr lariat and quickly perches on the top rope. Joe flips off and performs a perfect moonsault, knocking his knees against Jatt’s forehead and sending Starr to the mat. Ryan, however, plucks Fontaine from the mat and drives him back down with a quick powerslam. Dan’s about to do more damage… when Sid hammers the Murder Daddy in the back.

Phillips drives his forearm into Ryan again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Nick Stuart: Sid has a lot of strength and it’s on full display here.

The crowd boos as Phillips works Ryan into a corner. He Irish whips the former HOTv Champion to the other side of the ring. When Ryan meets the padding, Sid comes in with a head full of steam-

OOMPH!

The wind (of change) is knocked right out Phillips as he fumbles backwards. Ryan looks for another blow but this time Phillips comes over the top with an axe handle smash! Now it’s Dan Ryan who stumbles to the center of the ring, and Sid’s eyes go wide.

Nick Stuart: He’s not going to… is he!?

Richard Parker: I’m not so sure…

Definitely, Phillips is going to try. He kicks Ryan in the gut and then throws the veteran’s head in-between his legs. The crowd rises, wanting to see if Phillips can powerbomb one of the most imposing figures in wrestling…

Until both members of Surf Express Bro are waiting on the top ropes AGAIN.

They fly off, but like clockwork each of them are snatched out of the air by Sid Phillip’s big mitts. However, this gives Ryan enough time to lift Phillips up, in a backdrop, sending the PRIME star up and over Ryan’s shoulders and to the canvas mat.

Ryan clotheslines the shit out of Nelson. He turns to see where Abrams is but can’t find him…

Because Bowie is out of the ring, leaning against the guardrail. Once Ryan notices where Abrams is, the MVW Tag Team Champion puts his arms up as if to say he’s not interested in wrestling anymore.

Abrams grins. He pulls out a blunt from his pocket and points to it, as if asking Dan Ryan permission to “sit this one out”.

Before the Murder Daddy can even make sense of what he sees, Joe Fontaine hits Ryan with a springboard dropkick and two middle fingers. Fontaine shoots off the ropes and flies across the ring again, catching Ryan under the chin with a perfect spinning heel kick, and two more middle fingers.

Nick Stuart: There’s no quit in Joe.

The crowd boos, but they don’t have a lot to cheer for here, regardless, because one Surf Express Bro is down and the other… is trying to light that blunt on the outside.

Fontaine starts superkicking Ryan over and over and over… working him into a corner. Phillips is back on his feet and ready to help his partner-

When Jatt Starr stands directly behind Phillips and spins him around.

Nick Stuart: Oh no!

Sid has Jatt by the neck. He thinks of choke slamming The Mayor of ManJattan but instead, Sid throws Starr into a powerbomb position…

And then crushes the legendary HOW talent with a ring shaking powerbomb!

Jatt looks like he’s out. Phillips covers while Fontaine prays his kicks to Dan can keep the big man at bay.

ONE.

 

TWO.

 

 

BROKEN UP BY NELSON!

Bradlee Nelson looks over to Bowie Abrams on the outside.

Bradlee Nelson: Whoa, I did that.

Fontaine comes in with a flying elbow smash, knocking Nelson for a loop. But it’s not too long before Dan Ryan gains a second, serious wind and EXPLODES from the corner.

He looks to take Fontaine’s head off but instead, Joe slips away and pushes Bradlee towards Ryan.

HAMMER OF GOD!

Blood flies from Nelson’s mouth. He crumbles to the mat like an accordion. Suddenly, Fontaine goes high on Ryan and Phillips goes low. They knock the big man down. Then Fontaine makes the smart play and hooks Bradlee’s right leg!

Nick Stuart: Winds of Change are going to steal this!

ONE.

 

TWO.

 

 

BROKEN UP BY BOWIE ABRAMS!

Richard Parker: Stoner was just waiting for the right time.

It doesn’t matter. All Abrams does is prolong the match. It doesn’t mean HE’s going to win it…

Sid Phillips drives an elbow into the side of Abrams head. He hurls the MVW Tag Champion into the ropes and upon return, he crushes Abrams with an elbow smash to the mouth.

Followed by a gutwrench powerbomb.

Followed by a top rope-aided powerbomb.

Followed by a jacknkife powerbomb!

Abrams is DOA.

Phillips places a foot on him for a pin… but at the count of two, it’s broken up by The Champion of Jattanooga.

Until Jatt Starr is whipped into a small package by Bradlee Nelson!

Richard Parker: I think I’m about to be sick…

ONE.

 

TWO.

 

 

THREE-

 

 

 

NOOOOO!!

The crowd is beside themselves, thinking they almost saw Jatt Starr lose to a stoner… but The Jattvian Prince rockets upright onto his feet, hands in the air, as if he won the Super Bowl or Stanley Cup.

Richard Parker: Starr has basically done nothing all match!

Nick Stuart: But he did kickout just moments ago! There’s that.

The Jattlantic City Idol turns to Nelson and clubs him square in the nose. Seemingly full of confidence now, Starr does a 180. He drills another right fist into Nelson, then positions him where he wants…

And connects with his finisher, The Falling Starr!

Just like that, Jatt is back!

He covers…

ONE.

 

TWO.

 

 

But Starr sees Phillips coming out of the corner of his eyes. Jatt breaks up the pin himself because he moves once Sid is too close.

Phillips dives an elbow onto Nelson while Jatt scurries to his feet and then dropkicks Sid on the side of the head. Before The Duke of Jattmandu can do more damage, however, Joe Fontaine is there with a tornado DDT!

Starr is planted in the middle of the ring. It looks like Fontaine wants to cover but Dan Ryan is ready to go. The smaller half of the Winds of Change nods. He cracks his neck and knuckles. He slams his fists against his head. He is more than ready to rise to the occasion and meet Dan Ryan in the middle of the ring.

Nick Stuart: I don’t like Joe’s chances.

Fontaine isn’t going to back down. He stands about chest-high to the big man, dead center of the ring.

Joe rears his right fist back…

Screaming as he brings it forward…

But the punch meets Ryan below the belt, not in the chest where it looked like Joe’s fist was initially going.

Joe screams again as Ryan doubles over and the crowd boos. Fontaine bounces off the ropes, running back towards Dan with two middle fingers high- and then he absolutely eats a desperate big boot from Ryan, sending the Arizona native head-over-heels, crashing to the canvas.

Nick Stuart: It looks like ALL men are down, in one form or another.

Believe it or not, even after three powerbombs, Bowie Abrams is the first on his feet to cheers from the crowd.

Clearly, however, he doesn’t know where TF he is.

Abrams takes a moment to survey the carnage.

Bowie Abrams: Dude…

Bradlee Nelson is up next. He makes eye-contact with Abrams.

Bradlee Nelson: Dude!

It’s extremely short lived, however, as Sid Phillips takes both their heads and smashes them into one another. Nelson stumbles back while Abrams is ready to eat a forth powerbomb.

This one of the sit-down variety.

SLAM!

Nick Stuart: We’ve got a pin… AND NEW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS!?

ONE.

 

TWO.

 

 

NO!

Ryan saves the day with a tackle to Phillips. The Starrabian Knight is also on his feet. He takes hold of Bradlee Nelson and sends him over Ryan’s way-

Ryan obliterates Nelson with a running clothesline, followed by a powerslam. Ryan takes hold of Nelson’s neck and ejects him out of the ring. It’s not so much an ejection, as it is an execution… because Nelson lands on top of the guardrail and hangs across it like folded laundry.

Next, Starr feeds his teammate Bowie Abrams. Ryan is about to throw Abrams into a powerbomb…

When Joe Fontaine clotheslines both himself and Starr over the top rope…

And Sid Phillips rises from the mat.

Sid and Dan are in a stare down as the crowd pays very close attention.

Nick Stuart: Another standoff?

Richard Parker: I hope Sid powerbombs the hell out of Ryan!

Ryan discards Abrams to the side, without performing his powerbomb. Sid rolls his shoulders and marches forward. He doesn’t want to wait any longer.

Nick Stuart: Here we go!

Ryan drags his right arm back and then throws it forward, clubbing Phillips in the chest. Sid budges, but not by much. One half of Winds of Change does the same thing… and strikes a blow across Ryan’s chest. Ryan moves back, a couple of feet, but that’s all for him, too.

Phillips grows impatient. He sends a WILD knee forward and it catches Ryan in the ribs. The Tag Champion doubles over while Sid’s eyes fall out of his head with excitement.

Nick Stuart: He’s going for it!!!

The crowd stands, wondering if Phillips is going to powerbomb Ryan and take the PWA Tag Team Championships.

Sid takes a deep breath and tries for it-

He can’t lift Ryan.

Phillips tries again.

No can do.

Ryan ejects himself from Phillips’ legs and aims for the Hammer of God…

NO!

Phillips moves out of the way! Ryan hits the ropes, bounces back and Phillips throws Dan in-between his legs again!

This time it’s El Jattador de Starrcelona who enters the ring with the save. He leaps OVER Dan Ryan and finds Phillip’s face with a knee smash! Starr hits the ropes for a second knee smash- this one knocks both Jatt and Sid to the mat.

Nick Stuart: SIROCCO!

Joe Fontaine comes off the top rope onto Jatt Starr with his springboard shooting star press!

…But Dan Ryan is right there to toss Fontaine out of the ring.

Nick Stuart: Uh, there’s just one problem.

Bowie Abrams is in the center of the ring, waiting to take down the giant.

Once Dan Ryan turns, Bowie thinks he has him.

Clearly, Bowie does not.

HAMMER OF GOD!

Abrams falls to the mat like he’s been shot.

Jimmy Turnbull slides into position as Dan makes the cover.

ONE.

 

TWO.

 

 

THREE.

 

 

 

Nick Stuart: Sid Phillips tried to get there but he was just too short!

DING DING DING

Vince Howard: The winners of this match and the men that will now retire the HOTv Tag Team Championships and are the first ever PWA Tag Team Champions…MEMBERS OF THE FINAL ALLIANCE AND HIGH OCTANE WRESTLING….. JATT STARR AND DAN RYAN!!!!!

Nick Stuart: The Final Alliance holds on. Really a hell of an effort by everyone involved.

Richard Parker: Screw the Surf Bros.

Ryan is handed a championship as, eventually, a battered Jatti Master enters the ring and is handed his belt, too. PWA 2 stays with the champions for a moment and then switches to Sid Phillips, who exits the ring with a scowl look on his face, since he was unable to powerbomb Dan Ryan. Phillips finds Fontaine resting by the guardrail where Bradlee Nelson is still draped overtop of it. Bradlee hasn’t moved since.

Nick Stuart: In the end, a victory for Ryan and Starr, who begin a new era with the new PWA Tag Titles.

Richard Parker: I like this change in attitude from Winds of Change. They’re on the up and up!

PWA 2 heads to commercial, as Ryan and Starr exit the ring.

Last Words

 

The shot begins with a PRIME flag proudly hanging along a wall, serving as the obvious backdrop for the scene. But not everyone is happy to see it.

Enter Ivan Stanislav and an equally miffed Alexei Ruslan.

The seven-foot-plus Stanislav, decked out in his proletariat garb, suspenders, and a proud hammer and sickle over his breast, growls at the cameraman.

Ivan Stanislav: What is this doing here?

He points at the PRIME flag behind him, while Ruslan, who wears a brown military cap with a red band and soviet pin on the front, along with his brown overcoat, starts to fish inside the coat’s pockets.

Alexei Ruslan: Aha, here it is!

It’s hard to say how Ruslan manages to cram so many objects (most of which are used to hurt people) into that jacket. Even if he was as big and tall as Stanislav, one would be hard pressed to carry the arsenal that he typically has on his person, and yet he produces a neatly folded Russian Flag.

Alexei Ruslan: This was supposed to be hanging on the wall, not the PRIME flag. This is for Russia! Not PRIME!

Stanislav bellows as well, as the entire situation begins to turn chaotic.

Ivan Stanislav: What kind of shenanigans is this?! Who put you up to this?!

Stanislav turns his back to the camera so he can start tearing down the flag at one corner while Ruslan stares daggers at the poor cameraman.

Alexei Ruslan: I’m going to make you pay for this…

“Nobody’s gonna make anybody do anything.”

Enter Lindsay Troy, stage right, dressed for war in all PRIME blue, white, and black gear. She wears black and steel-studded gloves and black steel-toed boots…departures from her normal gear, but concessions she made to Ivan and Alexei for the night’s main event. The Queen puts her hands on her hips and scowls at the two men throwing a tantrum in front of her.

Lindsay Troy: Can you two chill out and stop being dramatic for five minutes while we do this “last words before the match” thing?

Stanislav points at the PRIME flag.

Ivan Stanislav: This match is not for PRIME so much as it is for Russia. Everyone knows this! What is this doing up here?

The Queen sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose, and silently counts to ten before addressing them again.

Lindsay Troy: Look, if you want to see what’s behind the banner, be my guest, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The Russian Bear and Ruslan look at one another. They want to look, but at the same time they’re unsure. Ivan finally nods at Alexei. Ruslan pulls the flag back and peers at what’s behind it, and then very quickly lets the PRIME flag rest back where it was. His face turns red as, whatever he saw, certainly wasn’t something he likes. He stares at Ivan, considers, and then shakes his head.

Alexei Ruslan: Best not to, Praporshchik.

Stanislav inhales slowly and looks down at Troy.

Ivan Stanislav: Alright then, Lindsay, I trust my best friend’s judgment. Regardless of flag, it would still be good for you to say a few laudatory things about glorious Russian Federation in addition to how you are going to dismantle Solex tonight.

Lindsay blinks, shakes her head, then turns to the camera.

Lindsay Troy: Let’s go ahead and get the obvious out of the way. Steve Solex is a 100% Made in the USA Baby-Backed Bitch who’s never seen a piece of camel that he hasn’t considered sexually assaulting. He’s the guy that every single Incel and QAnoner jerks off to before they go to sleep at night. He’s the personification of that meme of a guy in a pool pouring a water bottle on his head with the caption “When you’re a Men’s Rights Activist and you finally get your rights.” He’s a complete toilet and anyone who buys into a thing he says should be flushed away along with the shit that comes out of his mouth.

A rousing cheer is heard from the fans inside the Arena México.

Lindsay Troy: Steve Solex is still big mad that two years ago I beat him at his own game and humiliated his dumb ass in a Fan’s Bring the Weapons Match in HOW. That was tailor-made for you, Steve, and you fumbled the bag and choked in front of over 19,000 people in Madison Square Garden. And now you’re about to go Owen Two in Mexico’s most famous arena against the lady that just refuses to get back in the kitchen and make you a sandwich. You’re a pathetic stain on this sport, you represent some of the worst of humanity, and I am going to take immense pleasure in beating you one more time, in PRIME time.

The Queen walks off toward the gorilla position, leaving Ivan and Alexei alone. Stanislav and Alexei look at one another for a moment and then back at the camera. Ivan grunts.

Ivan Stanislav: Christopher America! Five months ago you wrestled me and I bashed your body to pieces, and while you flailed against The Russian Bear, you pulled out tiny little army men to try to hurt me. It failed. Here we are again, you and I, and you have brought one more tiny, little army man to try to, what, stop the inexorable tide of Russia. It will fail again!

Stanislav grins crookedly.

Ivan Stanislav: And you, Solex, or Kutter, or whoever in Lenin’s name you think you are on any given day? It does not matter. Lady Troy is going to dismantle you in front of all these people and leave you bleeding in middle of ring. We see you both soon. This is going to be fun.

Ruslan, the smaller Russian, pipes up.

Alexei Ruslan: And we speak for Lindsay Troy as well when we say, absolutely, that we will bring honor and glory to The Russian Federation! People of Russia, know that Ivan Stanislav, Alexei Ruslan, and The Scarlet Sickle herself stands united against these upstarts!

Ivan looks down at Alexei and grins.

Ivan Stanislav: You stay back here, Alex, and make sure those two idiots do not do anything foolish. I will keep an eye on the ground.

With that, Stanislav lumbers past the camera. Ruslan, on the other hand, rummages behind the PRIME flag, tears down whatever was beneath it, and crumbles it up in a ball and exits to the right.

Main Event

 

We cut back to ringside as it is time for our main event. We are once again joined by High Octane Wrestling Hall of Famers Joe Hoffman and Benny Newell:

Joe Hoffman: Well here we go Benny. It is time for the match that I know you personally have been waiting for.

Benny does not hear Joe at all as he has taken his headset off and as the camera cuts to a hard shot of Newell we see the man putting on a new shirt.

With a smirk he puts his headset back on and then gladly shows off his shirt to the cameras and Joe.

Joe Hoffman: Really?

Benny Newell: Really.

Joe Hoffman: So asking you to be unbiased during this match is a no go I assume?

Benny Newell: You would assume correctly.

Joe cracks a small smile as he shakes his head at his longtime commentary partner.

Joe Hoffman: Well I do not think anyone will be surprised Benny…….

Commentary team stops as NATIONAL ANTHEM OF THE UNITED STATES hits the PA system and the crowd stands up to their feet.

Joe Hoffman: The wait is over folks!!

We cut inside the ring where longtime HOW ring announcer Bryan McVay is standing by with a cue card in his hand.

Bryan McVay: Making his way to the ring……the man that is representing not only High Octane Wrestling…..but for every person born with the XY chromosomes……the LAST Man in Wrestling…..THE ALPHA DAD…….THE MERCDAD……THE MAN THAT PUT ALLLLL THE WHINY FUCKS ON NOTICE……THE HIGH OCTANE TELEVISION CHAMPION…STEEEEEVVVVVVEEEE SSOOOOOLLLLLEEEXXXXXXXXXXXX!!!!

The reigning HOTv Champion makes his way out from the back with fellow Hall of Famer Christopher America behind him.

America has a giant United States of America flag with him and he waves it back and forth as the crowd boos unmercifully at the men.

Each man has their Bald Eagle on their shoulders and as they pause at the top of the ramp, red white and blue fireworks explode behind them, filling the Arena Mexico up with smoke.

Joe Hoffman: WOW. That is all I got.

Benny Newell: Stand the FUCK UP JOE…IT’S THE NATIONAL ANTHEM ASSHOLE!!!

We get a split screen of Benny holding his Santa’s hat across his heart as a solitary tear makes its way down his cheek as he watches America and Solex make their way down to the ring.

George and Valor, the men’s respective Bald Eagles, take flight from the men’s shoulders and land on opposite turnbuckles in the ring.

The crowd continues to boo as Solex and America climb into the ring and walk to the center of the ring and promptly salute to all the Patriots watching at home on HOTv.

Benny Newell: HOW IN THE FUCK CAN YOU NOT ROOT FOR THESE TWO!!!???

As the National Anthem fades out and the smoke starts to dissipate, all attention now turns back towards the entrance ramp.

Legendary by 7KINGZ hits the PA system and Lindsay Troy makes her way out from the back with Ivan Stanislav towering over the 6’3” Troy.

Ivan has the PRIME flag in tow and holds it up firmly as he remains focused on the enemies in the ring.

Bryan McVay: Introducing next….accompanied to the ring by Ivan Stanislav….she is the QUEEN OF THE RING……LINDSAY TROOOOOOYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: Well the Lady of The Hour is here and the man that defeated Christopher America at PWA is looking ALL BUSINESS as he walks behind her.

Benny Newell: This bitch has more nicknames than Jatt Starr and literally calls herself the GOAT. I can think of MANY farm animals she should call herself……but GOAT is not one of them.

Joe Hoffman: First off….completely uncalled for…..Lindsay Troy is a legend in this business. There is a reason that Lee Best literally BEGGED for her to join High Octane Wrestling in 2019. She is one of the greatest of all time. That cannot be argued.

Benny Newell: Look, the bitch just called Solex a camel fucker and I cannot question her own statement of calling herself a GOAT??? FUCKING SAWFT. I mean there is also a reason Lee BEGGED her to quit and if assholes can argue about if Youngblood looks good in whiny fuck white knight gear standing up for her…then I can argue if she truly is a GOAT of this business. She fucks sheep….and by sheep I mean that weak ass fucking roster of hers…..how about that??

Joe Hoffman: Let’s move on shall we…..The facts are simple here tonight Benny. Ivan did not hesitate for one second to call on Lindsay to be his proxy in tonight’s match and there was not much hesitation on the part of America either.

Back at ringside we see Troy and Ivan climb into the ring. They waste no time as they walk straight to the center of the ring and stand mere inches from their counterparts.

Joe Hoffman: Steve Solex and Lindsay Troy are literally standing nose to nose here as both stand exactly 6 feet and 3 inches tall.

Benny Newell: BUT THE MAN….and to be clear that is Steve Solex here….WEIGHS 80 POUNDS MORE THAN HER!!!!

Joe Hoffman: There is no doubt that Solex has the size advantage when it comes to his weight but LT has faced bigger man before and came out on top. Her quickness and long time training in martial arts has always served her well.

As Troy’s music fades out we can now here the crowd buzzing as all four wrestlers continue to stare each other down.

We see America, the greatest HOW World Champion of this era, looking straight up at the 7’1” Russian that defeated him earlier this year at PWA 01. Both men are holding their respected flags over their shoulders.

No one is flinching.

Benny Newell: Holy fuck does this have a big match feel to it.

Joe Hoffman: We have seen some great action tonight and it all culminates here with this match….this Flag Match.

Back in the ring, longtime HOW Referee Matt Boettcher, signals for all four wrestlers to go to their corners.

The fans in attendance are still buzzing and several whistles break out as flash bulbs light up the arena as no one is moving.

Finally, and slowly, Lindsay and Ivan slowly start back towards their corner.

Satisfied with the opposition moving first, America and Solex do the same.

Benny Newell: America NEVER backs down.

Joe Hoffman: Honestly? You really are going to bring politics into this match?

Benny Newell: IT IS THE COMMIE WOMAN FOLK VERSUS THE 97RED BLOODED AMERICANS!!!!

Someone…somewhere…..is starting to print those t-shirts.

Joe Hoffman: The time for talking is literally over. All opinions do not matter anymore. Quick ground rules for those that have not seen a Flag Match before.

Benny Newell: Just google RUSSIANS NAMED IVAN lose in a Flag Match. This shit goes ALL the back to 1984 and the COLD WAR. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Stanislav’s weren’t related to the Koloff’s….or the Kostoff’s for that fucking matter.

Joe Hoffman: Will you stop….

Back in the ring, we see Boettcher walk over to Troy’s corner and he places the PRIME flag in an already installed flag holder on the ring post as Ivan watches cautiously to make sure the flag does not fall. Satisfied that its firmly in place, he jumps down to the arena floor and pounds the canvas of the ring and yells out.

Joe Hoffman: The Russian Bear is AMPED up for tonight. Even though he had a big victory last night in the main event of night one, you can tell that Ivan would have no problem having another match tonight.

Benny Newell: Instant DQ. Match ends…so yes….please interfere.

We once again cut back to the ring as we see Boettcher put the United States flag in its flag holder on the ring post.

America gives Old Glory a salute and then jumps down to the arena floor. He looks up at Solex and the two men exchange a nod before the HOTv Champion turns his attention towards Troy.

Joe Hoffman: Here we go folks…….Lindsay Troy versus Steve Solex……the only way to win this match is to secure your opponents flag. THAT IS THE ONLY WAY!!!

Boettcher looks at both wrestlers and asks if they are ready as we see two crew members take the two bald eagles back to the back.

Both nod without taking their eyes off each other.

Boettcher signals for the bell and the PWA02 night two main event is officially underway!

DING DING DING

The sound of the ring bell being hit for the third time barely stops echoing before Troy rushes towards Solex and nails him with a running dropkick that sends Solex backwards hard into his corner.

Troy bounces right back to her feet and jumps up to the second turn buckle and begins blasting Solex with right hands until the man covers up. LT then reaches for the American flag and her fingertips graze the flag…

Joe Hoffman: SHOCK FINISH SHOCK FINI-

BOOM

Troy’s back hitting the canvas is now the sound that echoes throughout the arena as Solex just dropped her with a powerbomb.

Solex quickly puts one knee in the chest of Troy and begins dropping right hands of his own. None of the blows land fully however and as Solex rears back for another one Troy whips her right leg up and around the neck of Solex and pulls down on the back of the man’s head with our her might with both hands as she locks her legs together.

Joe Hoffman: Triangle choke from Troy!!!!

Benny Newell: Call it whatever the fuck you wanna call it…..but I am going to pay $9.99 for it later.

Joe ignores Benny as all focus is on the action inside the ring as Solex is trying to get out of the hold.

LT arches her back and applies more pressure but as she does Solex see’s and opening and delivers a right hand flush to the side of Troy.

Troy immediately lets go of the hold as the sound of her air leaving her body fills the arena.

Joe Hoffman: That was a HEAVY right hand that landed on the unprotected ribcage of Troy there.

Benny Newell: Bitch better have practiced her beathing….

Solex stretches out his right arm and then his neck as he watches Lindsay roll away from danger and under the bottom rope to the arena floor.

Ivan quickly rushes over and helps Troy up to her feet. LT pushes Ivan off as she holds her side in pain….clearly trying to catch her own breath.

Joe Hoffman: There is that fire from Troy that we have come to love over the years. She might be hurt here early in this match but she still has plenty of high octane fuel in her tank.

Benny Newell: I see what you did there….and I approve.

Back outside the ring, LT has gathered herself, and rolls back into the ring. On the other side leaning against the far ropes, Solex is still shaking his right arm out after the triangle choke. After another neckroll, Solex motions for Troy to bring it.

The crowd erupts as the two meet in the middle of the ring and lock up. Troy screams out as she gains the upper hand and begins muscling Solex back to the turnbuckle.

Benny Newell: I did NOT have that on the bingo card tonight….

The crowd gets louder with each step that Solex is forced to take backwards as Troy continues to gain momentum.

BOOM

Solex nails Troy with a quick right knee to the same side he dropped the punch just a few minutes ago. LT drops to the canvas and grabs hold of her ribs as the crowd boos Solex unmercifully.

Joe Hoffman: 80 pound difference and Troy STILL was muscling Solex back until that desperation knee.

Benny Newell: I would counter that he lured her in and ALLOWED her to open up her rib cage….but you know…I am just a independent wrestling LEGEND….what do I know??

Joe Hoffman: That was not strategy. That was desperation…all day.

Solex kicks Troy in the side of the head and the Queen of PRIME stumbles awkwardly on her side. She starts to roll away but this time Solex drops and elbow on the back of the woman’s neck and stops her from escaping the ring.

Solex pins Troys head down with his left hand and drives his right knee hard into the left side of Troy as she remains facedown on the canvas. She tries to roll away but Solex holds her head down with even more pressure and drives another knee into her side.

Joe Hoffman: If her rib or ribs weren’t broken earlier…they are now. Jesus.

Outside on the floor America can be heard clapping over the boos as he smiles from ear to ear as his counterpart screams at Troy to get up.

Seated on his knees next to Troy, the HOTv Champion smiles out at Ivan and flips off the Russian.

Benny Newell: That commie fuck needs to shut the fuck up….how else is Solex supposed to communicate with Kutter?!?

With a smile, Solex grabs the hair of Troy and pulls her up to her feet along with him. He grabs the woman around the waist and lifts her up and sends her over his head and crashing to the canvas behind them.

Benny Newell: RELEASE AMERICAN SUPLEX!!!!! FUCK THOSE GERMAN FUCKS WHO COST US THE WAR GAMES SELLOUT!!! THE BITCH JUST CRUMBLED TO THE MAT!!

Troy does in fact crumble up into a ball as the velocity of the suplex does more damage to her ribs. The crowd is urging her on as she reaches up and starts pulling herself up by the ropes.

Just as she reaches up for the top rope she is kicked back down as Solex kicks her left side once again. Troy, now seated in the corner, tries to block as Solex continues to hit her with repeated boots to the chest and stomach area.

Benny Newell: WALK THAT BITCH DRY!!!

After several kicks, Solex pauses his right foot up in the air and looks at the crowd who are no longer cheering for Troy………they are silent out of concern. Solex focuses in on a woman in the front row and blows her a kiss before driving another boot into Troy.

The fans at ringside near the woman lose their minds and begin screaming at Solex.

The HOTv Champion raises his two arms up in the air and takes in all the hate as Troy rolls to the arena floor once again.

Joe Hoffman: Solex is just proving to be too powerful for Lindsay and one has to wonder why not just go grab the flag right now why she is outside the ring?

Benny Newell: Really? You think Solex is just going to let her off this easy? Nah….there is a message that needs to be sent tonight and Solex is doing this for A LOT of people…not just himself.

Joe Hoffman: Well I am just saying….about a million times over the years the so called bad guy has a chance to defeat the good guy and instead takes his time and it ultimately costs him.

Benny Newell: YOU ARE COMPARING PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING TO MOVIES JOE HOFFMAN???? YOU TAKE THAT FUCKING BACK RIGHT NOW!!!!!!

Joe Hoffman: All I am saying is that Solex could win the match right now by literally just taking a few steps. Don’t mind me….just a lowly commentator here.

Outside the ring we see Ivan once again helping Troy up to her feet and this time she does not push him away. Ivan begins yelling in Russian at Troy and although she might not understand the words….she understands the message.

Troy nods her head repeatedly and motions to the fans in the front row that she has this…..

Solex begins taunting Troy again from the center of the ring and begs her to rejoin the fray.

She does just that.

Solex charges at Troy as she slides into the ring and jumps to her feet.

LT is able to duck a big clothesline attempt from Solex and as the man bounces off the near ropes she nails him with a knife edge chop.

WHACK

Men across the world cringe as Troy delivers another one…

WHACK

LT grabs Solex’s arm and leans into him before irish whipping him into the far ropes…..

Troy drops to the canvas as Solex jumps over her and as he comes off the ropes again LT nails Solex with a drop kick to his right knee causing the man to flip forward and land on his back.

Solex immediately grabs at his knee.

Troy jumps up to her feet, grabbing her side with her right hand, kicks the back of Solex’s knee.

The HOTv Champion quickly jumps up to his feet but just as he does Troy executes a flawless leg sweep with her heel connecting with the back of Solex’s knee.

The HOW Hall of Famer falls backwards on his back and grabs at his knee once again.

Joe Hoffman: Hard for Solex to use his size advantage here from his back. Great work here by Troy to get him off his feet.

LT grabs the right leg of Solex and drags him to the near corner. She quickly slides out of the ring and pulls Solex even further into the corner.

She then picks up his left leg and then looks out to the crowd while America pleads with her not to do it….

But she does.

Troy pulls back with all her might and crotches Solex into the ring post.

Lindsay Troy: Equal Rights….bitch.

The crowd erupts after hearing Troy talking shit to Solex.

Troy does not let up however as she grabs both legs again and this time she bends the right leg of Solex and then locks in her own legs……

Joe Hoffman: FIGURE FOUR ON THE RING POST!!!!!!!

Troy continues to hang upside down as she pulls down on Solex’s leg with all her might. The crowd is going crazy as Solex continues to scream out in pain.

Finally, LT lets go of the hold and falls to the arena floor. She crawls over to the ringside barrier and the fans help pull her to her feet.

Benny Newell: What kind of SAWFT shit is this? FANS ARE HELPING HER!!!?? THIS IS CHEATING!!

On the far side of the ring Ivan is screaming at her to get back into the ring and go for the American flag.

Troy nods and starts to walk towards the ring but she is cut off by America.

The HOW Hall of Famer and second greatest wrestling mind in the history of pro wrestling begins screaming at Troy for using the fans to cheat.

Troy pushes to go past America but the HOW legend grabs her by her right arm and stops her.

On the opposite side Ivan begins to RUN towards the action.

But he isnt needed.

The crowd gasps as Troy stops dead in her tracks and looks down at her arm being held back by America. She turns slowly towards the HOW Hall of Famer and America quickly panics and swings a right fist that LT is able to duck under.

As she ducks she charges America and slams him backfirst into the guard rail.

She takes a couple steps back and is ready to do it again but she stops…..her eyes go wide.

Several arms and hands begin pulling at America and begin dragging him over the guard rail.

Benny Newell: WHAT IN THE WILD WORLD OF SPORTS IS GOING ON HERE….AMERICA IS GETTING ASSAULTED….SOMEONE STOP THIS!!!!!!!!!

Joe is shocked and unable to speak as the everyone watches America literally be dragged into the crowd. The fans at ringside close the gab in front of him and the camera crews nor staff can see what is happening.

Suddenly several EPU agents emerge from backstage and begin running down the rampway.

WHACK

WHACK

WHACK

WHACK

WHACK

Ivan, having been handed a chair by a nearby fan, begins demolishing each EPU agent with chair shots.

Joe Hoffman: Clearly Ivan knows about the long standing rule not to trust anyone under a EPU mask.

Benny Newell: AMERICA IS LITERALLY BEING KIDNAPPED AND WE ARE CURIOUS ABOUT THE IDENTITY OF EPU AGENTS!!!!??? THIS WOULD NOT HAPPEN IN CHICAGO!!!!!!

No more EPU agents emerge as Ivan tosses the bent chair to the side as he stands guard at the bottom of the entrance ramp.

Back at ringside there is no more movement amongst the fans. The fans in the front row are now screaming at LT to go get her flag.

Shocked, Lindsay slowly regains her focus, and turns back towards the ring where she sees Solex is back up to his feet……barely putting any weight on his right knee.

Joe Hoffman: She clearly missed her opportunity at getting an easy win here…

Benny Newell: AMERICA WAS JUST KIDNAPPED FOR FUCKS SAKE…..WHERE IS THE CIA….THEY GOTTA BE IN THIS FUCKING TAINT OF A CITY…FUCK THIS MATCH…SAVE AMERICA!!!!!!

Benny stands up to his feet and slams his headset down on the announce table and starts to head towards where America was just pulled into the crowd.

WHACK

Troy PROMPTLY nails Newell with a right hand and the famed color commentator falls limp to the arena floor.

Joe Hoffman: Benny…why did you…….ugh…..this match has turned into complete chaos folks.

Back in the ring Solex screams at Lindsay asking why did she hit a frail and harmless old man. He begins begging her to get back into the ring.

She nods in agreement.

Troy runs towards the ring and starts to dive under the bottom rope but Solex drops an elbow….

And misses.

Joe Hoffman: Troy with a brilliant move there. She faked as if she was going to slide into the ring and Solex misses with the big elbow drop….and now Troy has pulled Solex out to the arena floor with her!!!

Troy grabs Solex by the back of the head and begins running with him as she tosses him towards the steel ring steps. Solex hits them knees first and flies over the top of them. He cries out in pain as his right knee continues to sustain damage.

LT climbs on the top of the steps and jumps off and drives her elbow onto the knee of Solex. She instantly then grabs a hold of Solex’s leg with her left arm and begins punching the right knee with her her right fist.

Blown up from the flurry of punches, Lindsay pushes Solex’s body away from her, as she shakes her hand.

Joe Hoffman: LT clearly feeling the punches to the knee of Solex. Just pure brutality here tonight folks. This was never advertised to be a wrestling match and so far it isnt. These two are just brutalizing each other in hopes to secure enough time to grab their opponents flags and secure the victory.

Troy finally gets back up to her feet and turns to see Solex using the announcers table to get up to his. She looks briefly at the United States flag that is literally within several feet of her…..but then turns back towards her opponent.

LT nails Solex with another right hand and the man stumbles sideways and lands in the seat formerly used by Benny Newell.

Joe scampers out of the way as LT grabs the HOTv champion by the back of the head and goes to bounce it off the announce table but Solex puts both his hands out and stops his momentum.

A quick elbow into the side of LT later and Solex gains some much needed time to gather himself.

Now leaning up against the ring barrier holding her side it is now LT who has the fans reaching out towards her.

But they once again pull her all the way up to her feet.

Several of the fans scream insults at Solex in Spanish as he just smiles and mouths the words “No hablo espanol”.

Solex takes a step towards LT and she swings a right hand at Solex but he blocks it and delivers one of his own sending her back into the ring barrier.

This time Solex does not allow the fans to help her out as he pulls her back up to her feet by the hair and tosses her ontop of the table.

He nails her with a couple right hands rendering her motionless as he slowly walks over and limps up the steel steps. Standing on top of the apron he looks out at the crowd who continue to give him hell and smiles.

He then runs and jumps off and the announce table explodes as Solex drives an elbow into the ribs……

But he doesn’t.

We get a quick split screen showing LT literally rolled off the table just before contact was made and Solex took the full brunt of the move and now lies crumbled on the arena floor.

We see Joe Hoffman sneak over and snag his headset ….stepping over the wreckage.

Joe Hoffman: Folks this is complete carnage. Benny is still in the shadow realm…..America is probably in some unmarked van in the parking lot…..and the EPU have been destroyed by Ivan….and now Solex is lying amongst the shards of what used to be the announce table. WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT!!??

The nearly sold out arena continues to chant for Lindsay to get back to her feet. Ivan has made his way over to the action and watches as Lindsay is the first to stir.

She pushes parts of the table away from herself and slowly staggers to her feet…..grabbing at her side as breathing is a literal chore with every inhale.

Joe Hoffman: Have to love the heart pride and desire being shown here by Troy. She continues to get back up. Gotta respect that.

The collective sounds of cheers reaches its loudest as Troy finally makes it up to her feet. She looks down at Solex who is not moving still.

She then looks up at the American flag.

She begins to walk.

Slowly.

But she is walking.

The cameras follow her as she slowly makes it up all three steel steps and places her right foot on the bottom turnbuckle as she steps up to snag the American flag.

She then looks down as someone tugs at her legs.

Benny fucking Newell.

Troy begins laughing as she looks down at Benny who is holding on for dear life. She takes a step down and kicks Benny in the side of the head….sending the announcer to the arena floor.

Linsday slowly climbs back down the steps and pulls Newell up to his feet and grabs the man by the face and looks him dead in the eyes before headbutting him.

Newell’s eyes instantly water up as his nose clearly breaks as blood begins rushing down his face.

Troy pulls at and rips the XY > XX shirt on Benny and the crowd begins laughing and pointing at Newell as he begins to crawl away from Troy as she holds the tattered remains of the shirt.

She tosses the shirt into the crowd and promptly kicks Newell in the ass and the man falls forward face first onto the arena floor.

Troy watches as Newell slowly gets up to his feet, blood pouring down his face and blinded by his own tears, and then she charges…

Joe Hoffman: QUEENS GAMBIT……QUEENS GAMBIT TO BENNY NEWELL!!!! WHY OH WHY DID YOU GET INVOLVED BENNY!!!!

The force of the double knee strike sends benny backwards and head first into the guard rail.

He is completely knocked out cold.

Troy gets back up to her feet and as she turns she sees that Solex is almost all the way back up to his feet and she begins to head back to the steps and the American flag.

Ivan watches as Troy reaches the steps and Solex starts towards her.

Joe Hoffman: TROY IS CLOSING IN HERE!!!

Ivan begins running……

LT reaches the top step……steps up on the bottom rope and reaches up……

IVAN SWINGS MADLY AND CONNECTS……

SOLEX GOES DOWN AS IVAN NAILS HIM WITH A POWERFUL CLOTHESLINE.

TROY’S FINGERS TOUCH THE FLAG……….

THEN SHE LETS GO………..

Joe Hoffman: WHAT THE H E DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS!!!!!!!!!

Everyone in the first few rows of the arena duck as two Bald Eagles fly in from out of nowhere and sink their talons into Troy’s shoulder and hand.

Troy swings blindly at the two eagles as George and Valor continue to sink their talons into her and stab at her with her beaks.

Blood begins to pour with each blow delivered by America and Solex’s eagles.

Troy staggers back down the steel steps as she continues to fight off the eagles.

She falls to the arena floor and covers up as they are relentless with their attack.

Then it all stops.

There is loud squawk’s heard as the eagles suddenly turn their attention elsewhere.

Joe Hoffman: WHAT IS A GREAT HORNED OWL DOING HERE!!!????

The owl just hit both Bald Eagles from behind and the eagles let go of Troy and immediately take flight to chase the owl.

The crowd cheers as the Owl gets in a few shots but is quickly outnumbered by the Bald Eagles. The birds then disappear from sight and an eerie silence comes over the arena as we get an overhead shot of a bloody Lindsay Troy looking at a downed Steve Solex.

The two downed wrestlers lock eyes as we see Ivan has once again stepped back out of the action but is watching on intently.

Joe Hoffman: Ivan kept Solex from stopping Troy. George and Valor stopped Troy from grabbing the flag. A random owl shows up and blindsides the eagles and has now led them away from the action…and oh by the way…..medics are currently putting Benny Newell on a stretcher!!! WHAT IS NEXT!!!???

Solex and Troy, with hate in each others eyes, slowly get to their feet at the same time. Both refuse the urge to use anything in the area to help them.

Neither not wanting to show any weakness but it is clear.

Solex is HURTING.

Troy is HURTING.

The crowd is LOVING it.

Both finally make it to their feet and do not waste any time as they begin throwing hands.

Solex with a right hand……

Troy with a right hand……

Solex with another right hand…..

Troy with another right hand…..

Solex kicks Troy in the gut doubling her over…..

While doubled over Troy punches the right knee of Solex knocking him down to one knee….

Solex with a headbutt to Troy…..

Troy smiles and headbutts Solex….

Solex smiles and grabs Troy by the ears and brings her in close and begins biting her nose….

Troy blindly punches out and nails Solex once again in the groin…..

Both stagger backwards as the crowd is in a fury as neither is giving an inch.

Joe Hoffman: Folks I do not have much to add here…I am literally watching this FIGHT along with you guys……this is madness.

Instead of reengaging, Troy rolls back into the ring, and Solex slides into the ring as well.

They literally begin crawling towards each other and once again start throwing hands.

The crowd cheers them on as they literally keep landing punches as they work their way up to their feet….

Solex finally is able to block a right hand…..kicks the woman in the broken ribs…and nails her with his finisher…

Joe Hoffman: STUNN-…..I MEAN SOLEXECUTION!!!!!!

A bloody Troy falls backwards from the momentum of the move and is out.

Solex staggers up to his feet…..flips off the crowd….and begins limping towards the PRIME flag.

Ivan watches with every step as Solex makes his way towards the corner….keeping an eye on Ivan the whole time as Stanislav walks briskly towards the corner with Solex….

Joe Hoffman: SOLEX IS ALMOST THERE…JUST NEEDS TO PULL THE FLAG OUT OF THE POST AND HE WINS!!!!!!

The HOTv Champion steps up on the bottom turnbuckle and reaches up and grabs the staff of the PRIME FLAG as the crowd lets out an audible groan as Solex firmly has his hand around the flag….

Joe Hoffman: IVAN HAS SOLEX BY THE THROAT……BUT SOLEX HAS THE FLAG IN HAND…..HE JUST NEEDS TO HOLD ON!!!!!!!

Ivan indeed has Solex by the throat with one hand and he lifts the HOTv champion up and TOSSES him into the middle of the ring….

But all eyes are on the PRIME flag……..

But it remains.

Joe Hoffman: Solex lost his grip!!!!!!!!!!! THE MATCH CONTINUES!!!!!

We get another overhead shot as we see Troy still out cold from the Solexecution and now Solex lying in a heap after being chokeslammed by Ivan.

Both flags remain lying still in their respected posts at the top of opposite corners.

Joe Hoffman: Oh now…what is going on?? MOAR SHENANIGANS!!???

The WHOLE arena …including Ivan…..turn towards the entrance ramp as we see a whole bunch of High Octane Wrestlers making their way out from the back….led by the High Octane World Champion STRONK!.

The HOW wrestlers get about halfway down the ramp when suddenly more bodies show up from the back.

Joe Hoffman: PRIME are making their way out!!!!

The HOW and PRIME wrestlers begin brawling down the entrance ramp and Ivan quickly joins the fray.

Literally the whole ringside area is filled with brawling wrestlers.

STRONK! beating down Youngblood…

The Colton Family with the advantage on the new PWA Tag Team Champions Dan Ryan and Jatt Starr….

Scott Stevens and Xander Azula oddly going at it with Kenny Freeman and Randall Schwartz….

Ria Lockhart taking it to Bobbinette Carey…..

Conor Fuse and Darin Zion working well together as they have advantage on Avalon and Wade Elliott….until Wade socks Zion square in the mouth and sends him straight to the ground.

Joe Hoffman: No sign of Cancer Jiles here…he is probably already back on the USS Octane so that tracks that he wouldn’t be relevant enough to be in this brawl….

Joe clearly losing his battle versus eye rolls here.

Again, we get an overhead shot as the ringside area is complete chaos…

But in the middle of the ring Lindsay Troy and Steve Solex are rising to their feet.

Joe Hoffman: Oh my God……they are both getting back to their feet!!!

The crowd is loving everything going on and it only takes a few moments for Solex and Troy to realize what is going on.

They both pause and look around ringside and see men and women that maybe they don’t necessarily get along with all the time…fighting for their companies.

Both Troy and Solex nod at each other.

Joe Hoffman: TIME TO FINISH THIS!!! THAT IS THE LOOK THEY JUST GAVE EACH OTHER!!!

The two wrestlers begin to circle each other as a prime bit of chaos reigns supreme on the outside.

Troy, covered in dried blood, holds her fists up.

Solex, barely able to walk, soldiers thru the pain as he looks for an opening.

Neither giving an inch.

They then charge.

Troy ducks underneath a clothesline attempt……bounces off the ropes….ducks under another clothesline attempt………jumps up on the second rope and flips backwards……lands on her feet and snags Solex’s head…

Joe Hoffman: BACKFLIP DD……. NOOO!!!!!

Solex spins out of the inverted DDT attempt and lifts Troy up and nails her with a snap suplex.

The HOTv champion quickly pivots and pulls Troy up to her feet and nails her with an American Leg Sweep.

Clearly on his second wind, Solex floats over and pulls Troy back up with him and grabs her around the waist in preparation of a belly to belly suplex but Troy once ahead uses her head…quite literally…and headbutts Solex right in the nose and now it is his eyes that are watering uncontrollably.

Solex lets go of the hold and Troy nails him with a pointed elbow to the nose that sends the man back into the corner……and bleeding.

Joe Hoffman: She is sizing him up!!!!!!

Troy steps back to the middle of the ring and then rushes at Solex and jumps into the air……both knees pointed directly at the bloody target that is Solex’s nose.

Her knees make direct impact and the force of her own momentum send her backwards to the center of the ring…..

Joe Hoffman: SHE MISSED!!! SHE MISSED THE QUEENS GAMBIT ON SOLEX……KNEES MET THE TOP TURNBUCKLE!!!!!!!

Solex LIMPS and staggers forward and drops a knee to the stomach of Troy…who immediately curls up in pain.

The HOTv Champion rolls her over on her stomach and then he positions himself in the middle of her back….pulls her arms back on his knees….and pulls back on her head with both hands around her neck.

Joe Hoffman: CAMEL CLUTCH!!!! CAMEL CLUTCH!!!!

Chaos continues to reign supreme outside the ring as if it was some part of some sanctioned violent organization that allows SHOOT wrestling in the Missouri valley.

Solex sits down in the middle of the back of Troy and leans back with all his might…..

But slowly Troy begins to fight off the move…..she makes it up to her knees as the crowd urges her on..

Joe Hoffman: THIS MAN OUTWEIGHS HER BY 80 POUNDS BUT SHE CONTINUES TO FIGHT!!!!!

Troy breaks her arms away from Solex and places them on the canvas and begins to lift herself up.

Solex is shocked as she slowly begins to pick him up off the canvas…..

Then he jumps……..and lands squarely on her back as his knee gives out.

Troy falls back down to the canvas and Solex leans forwards and begins dropping elbows in the back of Troy’s head.

WHACK

WHACK

WHACK

Troy puts her hands over he head as she tries to block the blows but its to no avail……and as soon as she goes to block the blows Solex quickly grabs her arms again and relocks in the camel clutch.

Joe Hoffman: RUTHLESS elbows there from Solex…he has the clutch back in!!!!!

The crowd is screaming for Troy to not give up…..and she doesn’t.

But she slowly begins to fade as Solex continues to lean back with all his might….literally chocking Troy with his bare hands as he pulls back on the move.

Finally her body gives out and Troy goes limp.

Joe Hoffman: SHE IS OUT!!!!!! SOLEX CHOKED HER OUT IN THE CAMEL CLUTCH!!!!

Solex collapses next to her and is breathing heavily as he lays next to Troy.

He looks at her and sees she is out cold.

Solex then slowly stands up and looks out at ringside where it’s 50/50 between the PRIME and HOW wrestlers brawling at ringside.

Except STRONK!. Hes still beating up Youngblood who is probably thinking about some dumbass game called System Shock…a game that no one else knows about is distracted by what is happening now.

And what is happening is Solex reaching the corner and making his way up to the first turnbuckle and reaching up.

Ivan then stops after tossing Darin Zion three rows into the crowd and turns to see Solex climbing…..

Solex reaches up…

Ivan slides into the ring……

Solex pauses as he sees Ivan coming at him….

Ivan reaches Solex in the ring……

Solex reaches up with both hands and lifts…..

Ivan grabs Solex around the waist and TOSSES him backwards past the center of the ring and skidding into the far corner.

Joe Hoffman: HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Arena goes silent as the cameras zoom in on Solex lying in the corner he started in and with the PRIME flag lying across his chest.

Bryan McVay: WINNER OF THE MATCH….THE HIGH OCTANE TELEVISION CHAMPION AND HIGH OCTANE WRESTLING HALL OF FAMER…..STEEEEEEVVVVVVEEEE SOOOOLLLLLLEEEXXXXX!!!!

A small smile comes across the face of Solex as he looks up at Old Glory still standing…..Who is the camel fucker now bitch”

PWA 02 comes to a close with the final overhead shot of PRIME AND HOW killing each other at ringside while Solex and Troy lay prone in the ring.