SLAM! Episode 92
Live from the West End Park Ampitheater in Doha, Qatar
V/O - “Over ten years ago a small-time promotion out of Reading, PA came to existence. Over the years superstars have debuted and grown, some have retired, and others are still around today. Owners have changed. Locations have shifted. But one thing has always stayed the same. The name. Three Initials that have survived through the thick and the thin.”
The NBW logo is shown as it fades in and out showing the various designs from past to present. The voice-over by Trent McKnight continues.
V/O - “Those initials represent the past, the present, and the future. No Borders. No Boundaries. No Bull. Nothing But Wrestling. Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the NBW!”
A video package rolls showing past wrestlers and on-screen talent from the original promoter Alex Styles to Xander Napoli onto the current: Thaddeus Boyle. Three different men with three different agendas, all of which were responsible for the success that is NBW.
V/O - “Many athletes have paved the way for the current generation entertaining the fans every week.”
Shots of Jason Kain, Maximizer, Frost, Rey Campbell, Cal Roberts, Blake Gray, Rejection, Uncensored, Jade Greene and Alan Helms filled the screen before being replaced with shots of macWICKED, Ali Amore, Lunatic, D-T, Max Hopper, High Flyer, Sam Potright, Dream Warriors, Rik Bone, Callie Urban, Heaven and Hell, Shawn Jessica Hart, Remy Leroux, Brock Metzer, The Gordon Brothers, Andrew Martin, Mat Walton, William Arthur Reagan, Nightlife USA, Sweet Daddy K, Techno Dragon and numerous others as the clips speed up to a blur.
Side to side ‘Special K’ Keegan and ‘the Colossus’ Spike Saunders fade into view before being replaced by an imposing image of the former Double Champion, ‘Superstar’ Vince Jacobs and his Cheshire-like smile.
His image is replaced by clips of the members of his Upper Echelon; Judasbleek, Warren Spade, and the Son of Malta.
They are soon replaced by the likes of Vic Gravender, Chris Moliano, Derecho, Judasbleek, Son of Malta, Torment, RaVage, Tremoid, Lexia Hart, Benjamin Jones, For The Win, Johannes Antonious de Castonovo and Aleczander of Family Keeling, Handsome Man Modeling School, Supersquad, Zed, and more as the clips speed up once more.
V/O - "The time to break the mold is now. To be somebody. To make a mark. To be..."
The NBW logo spins to life once more and fades out to the simple initials...
"Boys, gather round."
Freddie Rich, de facto leader of his family faction, asked his brothers Declan and Donny and cousin Todd for a moment. Without a match scheduled, it was curious to see all four of them in their wrestling gear and ready as if they were about to contest an 8-man war.
"We know what we have to do?"
Freddie looked at every one of his soldiers individually, particularly Donny, staring at his youngest brother, who broke the silence: "Yes, Freddie."
"Last week, we were the laughing stock of No Brand Wrestling. I'm sick of it. How about you, huh?"
The eldest Rich put his hand in the middle for his three relatives to join their hands with his as they whipped themselves up into a frenzy, akin to sharks or whales, take your pick, join the swarm, join the pod - join 'em both.
Suddenly, Freddie Rich glanced up at the cameraman, realising the private moments had been filmed: "DONNY...What did I tell you about the door?"
Taking it upon himself to sort this out, our cameramen scampered when Freddie approached them and ordered them to 'GET OUTTA HERE.'
No doubt, Donny was in for another rollicking inside the confines of the Rich Family dressing room.
Was he the only one?
Fade out and into the opening SLAM video.
LAST TIME on SLAM
As the SLAM opening video faded out the events of the past several weeks unfolded on screen, while acompanied by the voice over of Trent McKnight.
"Two weeks ago, following a tremendous pay per view event in Singapore, on our last episode the NBW witnessed the first night of the NEW Keystone Champion-"
Cue up: Max Hopper's arrival into his first defense.
"And NBW World Heavyweight Champion."
Cue up: Warren Spade, Fenton Woods and EZ Blaze's celebration of dethroning the King of Hell.
"One man survived twenty four, five, six or so competitors at Twenty Five to Life and won his shot at the NBW World Heavyweight Championship in the Main Event of Legacy later this year."
Cue up: Brock Newbludd's interview.
"Fair to say, while we saw a new reality in NBW, it was not without its own faults."
Cue up: The In Crowd retaining at 25L and proudly showcasing they're still the Dynasty Tag Team and Blitzkrieg Champions.
"Or dangers and destruction."
Cue up: Freddie Rich and the Rich Familiy interrupting said interview, challenging Brock for his guaranteed shot. Newbludd coming out the victor, to being beat down by the Rich Family, saved by Hopper. And finally to the surprise attack by Benjamin Jones. Jump ahead to Hopper's defense against one half of the Dynasty Tag Team Champions, El Principe. Successful at that. To the attack by A-List, then Alex Reyn, and save from Darren Best and ultimately GM Jack Harmen. Jump ahead once more to the first defense of Spade against his friend Blaze, the shocks on the faces of the audience as Blaze nearly had Spade down until he was Torn Asunder. Ending with Jake Tockwell and Hot Sauce announcing their first hunter to the $250 thousand Bounty they put out.
"From debuts and returns to champions and sacrifice. SLAM had it all. And tonight we advance forward as the NBW World Tour continues. Championships will be on the line, including the NBW World Heavyweight title when Warren Spade defends it against the first man after the bounty. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to SLAM!"
The SLAM logo faded into view before opening up to the cheering crowd that filled the West End Park Ampitheater in Doha.
Unsolved Mystery Opponent
In the Ring
The fans of Doha were greeted by the manager of the NBW World champion Warren Spade … the Monster of the Mid-South’s manager, Fenton Woods!
“Gather around, everyone, gather around!”
The arena went dark and a lone spotlight was now on the entryway. Whoever this person was had their back turned to the camera so as to hide his face, but he was a man in jeans, a black coat and a red and white carnival barker hat. He was very short and couldn’t have been any more than five-foot four, but when he spoke, people listened.
“Doha, welcome to NBW Slam!”
A large cheer arose from the crowd.
“Please welcome the up and coming high flyer … the Picasso of Planchas, The Da Vinci of Dives, The Monet of Moonsaults … EZ BLAZE!!!”
The crowd cheered for the high flying dynamo that helped Spade earn his title match in the first place!
“And of course my other client and the man who kicked Derecho’s ass so bad he went into hiding … THIS IS YOUR NEW NO BRAND WRESTLING WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION …”
Fenton pointed his cane at the entrance.
He tapped his cane on the ground and his spotlight disappeared. The crowd was baited with anticipation and when words appeared on the EpiCenter they went crazy.
Warren Spade was here!
“Into The Arena” by Michael Schenker Group played and The Monster of the Mid-South basked in the reception from the crowd with the nbW World championship raised to the sky! After enjoying the response, he hunched over to let Fenton Woods ride on his shoulders and walked out with EZ Blaze, lifting HIM as well!
The monster who once boasted a two-year undefeated streak in No Brand Wrestling was now basking in the glory of his first singles championship seven years after debuting with the company. The large giant from the Mid-South stomped his way toward the ring and let go of both Blaze and Fenton. After his manager and his masked friend entered the ring, Warren raised the title again and climbed inside! He was now in a mood.
When his voice boomed the music faded quickly and quietly. The King of Monsters was anything but.
“You think you’re cute with your little bull-shit bounty. You wanted a shot at my championship and the second that I’m giving it to you, you turn tail and you come up with trying to put a bounty on my head. You try to throw that cash EZ’s way and try to break up our friendship?”
EZ didn’t talk, but the Great Aerial Artist did give the entrance a slap to the inner crook of his arm and a raise of his right arm. One of the international gestures for “eff you” no doubt directed at Tockwell.
“Now I’m done entertaining this crap. I don’t care what mystery opponent you dug up. I don’t care if he is in NBW right now, if he was in NBW before or if he cleaned toilets at NBW events. If you want a fight with me for the strap then you get your ass out here right now! We’re doing this right now, Doha!”
The crowd loved that thought! The NBW World title on the line right now?
Team Pinky Swear as they were coming to be known as waited for someone to come out. But it wasn’t who he thought it was.
The hit remix by KISS, regardless how old the damn song was, always meant the fans were jumping to their feet in anticipation of the one man in NBW that actually towered the current NBW World Heavyweight Champion - the doors pushed open and out walked that man - Spike Saunders.
Mic in the right hand, ready to go, but rather than talk then and there he strolled down the ramp and up to the ring, stepping over the ropes to meet the champion face to face.
A fist rap on the chest.
“You did it. By god, you did it Warren.” He smiled and took a step back, not looking to come off as antagonizing. “Quite the return journey and you end it on a high note by dethroning Derecho at long last. So many of us had tried. Some succeeded but most failed, and even those that succeeded failed in the end.”
Referencing the former champion that Derecho curtailed.
“Now, I thought about coming out here two weeks ago but I knew you were a man of your word. Or I know, rather, now that you are. So Blaze was going to get the first shot-” he reached forward and tapped the masked crusader on the left shoulder. Tap, being more of a smack downward in that instance, “great job kid! You gave it your all and damn well nearly had this oaf.” With a grin he turned back to Spade, “so I left it alone. But now that that’s over with, and despite Tockwell and his bounty with that dipshit Raul… What say we… settle things up.”
Of course the fans were readily behind this as they cheered the thought.
“One on one, Giant vs Giant, in another classic Hoss fight… this time with this-” Saunders tapped the belt with his finger, “NBW World Heavyweight Championship on the line!”
The crowd was on their feet at the chance of two of the biggest men in nbW and the possibility of their Legacy match from last year taking place tonight! Spade and Fenton seemed like that arrangement just fine,
“Well, Spike …” said Spade.
But before The Colossus could get himself an answer…
“Voodoo Child” by Brick + Mortar.
The crowd gave a decidedly mixed response for the man coming out from the back - possibly in part to him cutting off the potential of a blockbuster match but moreso because of who he appeared aligned with for the last show. Fresh off a victory two weeks ago over the former nbW World, Keystone and Blitzkrieg Champion Ravage, the man known as Ohiyama marched down to the ring and walked right into the lion’s den.
The Active Volcano entered the ring and though he was a big man himself at 6’6” and nearly 280 pounds of solid muscle, he looked up to the twin skyscrapers that were Spike Saunders and the nbW World Champion Warren Spade. Still, he showed no fear of either man and signalled to the entrance.
“Cut my music,” Ohiyama said.
The music faded out quickly and The Polynesian Powerhouse marched right up to Spike.
“I have nothing but the utmost respect for either of you and my intent wasn’t to come out here to interrupt whatever business the two of you have, but Spike… “
Ohiyama turned to The Colossus.
“At 25 To Life, you were defeated by Jake Tockwell. Last week, I defeated a former World Champion. I think that if there is anybody that should be able to claim next rights to the championship shot, it should be me.”
The crowd gave another mixed reaction for what Ohiyama said. Spike’s facial expression indicated he clearly disagreed. The Active Volcano turned to face The One Man Stampede and Fenton Woods.
“I know that Jake Tockwell has some opponent lined up for tonight, Warren, but I am asking you to consider fighting a new opponent, hoaloha…”
“I’m not out here asking you for this match just because I want it; I’m TELLING you that I HAVE to have this match. For my own well-being and for my fam…”
Saunders spun Ohiyama around and things were clearly getting interesting - tense, even.
“Look, Ohiyama, I do respect what you’re doing out here”, Saunders said, “but whatever your reasons for wanting this shot - you dictating to ME who should get a title shot isn’t something I’m cool with.”
The Polynesian Powerhouse didn’t back down from Saunders and slapped his hand away.
“You need to keep your hands off me, Saunders,” Ohiyama said. “I don’t care what kind of a tenure you’ve had in nbW. If you provoke me, I WILL do something about it, Spike.”
Fenton Woods was getting uncomfortable with all the masses of humanity in the ring so he cut in.
“HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY … HEY!!!”
Now all eyes were on Warren’s manager.
“Look guys I know my client is a popular man and rest assured, he’ll fight you and he’ll even fight your mothers to prove he’s the best but right now we have …”
“Children, children, please!”
The voice that was now commanding attention was everybody’s favorite General Manager, Jack Harmen! The crowd cheered the wacky man in charge of all things NBW when he walked out from the back sans music.
“Gotta get me some catchy music! Is the Weeknd cheap?” said Harmen. “Eh, I’ll just bully Richie Keal to find that for me later … I mean I’ll ask him politely to get it for me. Yes.”
Warren turned his attention to the General Manager.
“Whatever you’re here to say, Harmen … I don’t give a shit. I want Tockwell.”
Harmen shrugged his shoulders after that declaration from the Monster of the Mid-South.
“Well sir I’m afraid that I…” Off of Warren’s dirty looks, “Richie will have to disappoint you. Yes. Richie. Definitely all Richie. You see, he took it upon himself to iron out Tockwell’s mystery opponent. It’s somebody that you know pretty well, Warren, and that match is final. I’m kind of excited for it…”
The Monster of the Mid-South ignored the cheers of the crowd and talked over them. He mulled it over.
“Fine. I’m going to take apart whatever idiot Tockwell got to agree to his stupid bounty and then his ass is going to need said money to pay for traction when I’m done with him.”
Harmen sighed, “Now YOU, my CHILDREN!” referring to Ohiyama and Spike Saunders. “You … very large disproportionate children at that. Christ we have a lot of big wrestlers on this roster. Turns a giant into a dwarf…” Harmen trailed off, lost in thought, before returning to the task at hand. “Ohiyama, you’re correct and Spike … is a former World champion and all that. So I’ll do this. Ohiyama, you and Saunders are going to beat each other up for the amusement of the fans of Doha! The winner takes on the winner of Warren Spade and Tockwell's mystery opponent on Slam 93!”
Another big match signed for tonight! Ohiyama and Saunders locked eyes knowing what a big opportunity this was. Harmen rubbed the back of his neck. “And if you or the fans don’t like that, blame Richie. It’s all his fault. Taking two weeks to go home to tend to his sick bird. What is that?” Harmen looked to the camera. “Good luck Mr. Pippins.” Harmen turned back to Warren. “Rest assured my good man, we’ll still need a main event for the strap at Scorched so I promise you, one way or another, you’ll get your hands on Tockwell. But if I have anything to say about it… and I DO, you’ll do it as a fighting champion.”Harmen winked at Warren. “Pretty sure your dance card is full for the near future…”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Spade.
He raised his championship over his head to let Saunders and Ohiyama bask for a moment and then left the ring.
Warren Spade’s theme played and he and the rest of Team Pinky Swear left the ring with Ohiyama and Spike Saunders still staring at one another before their upcoming match later tonight.
It looked like everybody was wanting a piece of the fighting champion and he wouldn’t have it any other way like he just said. Warren walked past Harmen and gave him a quick stare. Harmen smiled and gave him a nod as he did, breaking whatever tension he could.
“And now it's time for a dose of payback!” C.G. Gains said to the crowd as we went back to ringside. “The Handsome Man Modeling School encountered a bit of a hiccup in their journey to the top last time we saw them, but tonight they get back on track.”
“If by hiccup you mean Peter Pham losing in only two moves by Teddy Palmer, then you are correct.” Melissa Vandeart added.
“That Palmer guy cheap shotted Pham and you know it. I'd like to see him try that bullcrap with Benny The Beaut tonight.” Gains retorted.
“If by cheap shot you mean Teddy kicking Peter right in his mouth after he was disrespected with a slap to the face, again you are correct.”
“Just hush, alright? Tonight, Palmers balls belong to the Handsome Man Modelling School!”
And to the ring we went.
“Big Rings” by Drake feat. Future.
Silver spotlights began to swirl their way across the arena. Eventually after a few seconds, the lights converged.
”THE BEAUT” BENNY REYES!
“PHOTOGENIC” PETER PHAM!
“TANTALIZING” TAYLOR SMITH!”
The names flashed and out from the back with a purpose were The Handsome Man Modeling School! Smith. Reyes looked to avenge the humiliation that Pham suffered last Slam, and his runway inspired intensity showed it. His broskis acted as his hype men, jacking him up as they made their way towards the ring.
“Making his way to the ring from Santa Cruz, California… accompanied by “Tantalizing” Taylor Smith” and “Photogenic” Peter Pham...one third of the Handsome Man Modeling School, “The Beaut” Benny Reyes!
All three men staggered themselves on the ring steps, layering themselves to pose for the crowd. Reyes flexed his hulking muscles, Pham did a selfie face the best he could while still factoring his aching jaw into the equation. Smith again showcased the pearly whites the lined his mouth. After the three men posed they entered the ring.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen.” A voice from beyond the stage echoed throughout the arena. “Last Slam I don't think the No Brand audience understood the importance of my clients debut. I don't think they understood that as he walked through this very curtain, the winds of change followed.”
Grady Patrick sauntered onto the entrance ramp, the crowd stirred slightly, but most still not quite sure what to make of cane reliant Irishman.
“So I ask that you all rise to your feet. I invite you to enjoy this night. A night that you’ll never forget…”
Cue “Hallelujah” by Panic At The Disco
Teddy Palmer blew through the entrance curtain, his arms outstretched with an air of arrogance circling him. Grady stepped aside letting Teddy take center stage, allowing the fanbase to take in every bit of the greatness he believed Teddy Palmer to be, and wanted them to buy into too.
“And his opponent, hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada...being accompanied by Grady Patrick, Teddy Palmer!”
Teddy strutted his stuff down towards the ring, slapping hands with the aisle side fans, whether they wanted it or not. Teddy rolled into the ring as Grady attended his post, flashing an all knowing grin towards the two thirds of the Models on the outside with him. Simon Brack ordered each man to their corner, allowing the anticipation to slightly build.
Like a bat out of hell, Reyes took a different approach in his matchup than teammate Pham had, charging intensely at Palmer. With a quick side step, Ted allowed Benny to crash sternum first into the turnbuckles, sucking the wind from his lungs. As he stumbled backwards, Teddy wrapped his arms around Reyes waist, wasting little time snapping him back with a bridged German Suplex. Brack dropped for the count.
Different approach, and nearly the same result as Ted was inches away from disposing of a model in record time. Ted was quick to his feet, and looking to end his night early, signaling to the crowd that a Whistle Blower was imminent. Staggering to his feet, Reyes turned around, but his jaw didn't suffer a similar fate that Pham’s had.
Ted's attention had been turned to Taylor Smith on the outside of the ring, who had hooked his foot as he was about to tag Reyes with his footprint. Pointing over the rope, down at the model whose raised arms plead his innocence, the distracted Ted was quickly downed with an avalanche splash.
That's when our competing model unleashed what resembled the fury of a starving runway walker in the presence of a buffet line.
Lefts and rights. Rights and lefts. Kicks and stomps. Closed fist and slaps. No body part was targeted specifically, and the red marks and welts on Ted’s body proved that. Turtling was his only option, hoping to endure the onslaught long enough for his opponent to wind himself.
Outside the ring, Grady Patrick had wobbled his way towards The Hyena like pack to voice his displeasure. As Pham stepped towards him, he was quick to remember that is protection was currently on his back in the ring, fighting for survival. Changing his tune, he backpedaled faster than he walked forward, Pham’s ego inflating with the intimidation.
In the ring, Reyes had pulled Ted up from the canvas, but was quick to reintroduce the two. The ensuing snap duplex was a thing of beauty. Reyes hoped back to his feet, darting towards the ropes. Swinging a leg into the air, he jumped off the planted foot, torquing his body mud flight, finding the optimal angle to drive his elbow into the heart of Ted. Quickly he hooked a leg.
Thinking Brack was a little slow with his clapping hand, Reyes disputed that his elbow provided him the necessary three count. Ted rolled over and crawled to the edge of the ring, using the ropes to pull himself up into an upright position, but Reyes had abandoned his argument with the zebra. As he steadied himself and turned around, Ted was met with a charging body block that had him split the middle ropes, landing on top the ring apron.
Benny reached overtop the highest rope, and grabbed onto the trainwrecks flowing locks. Simon ordered Reyes to release his grip, but Benny ignored the official, pulling Ted to his feet. Hooking his head, the intention was to suplex Palmer back into the ring, but his hooked leg on the bottom rope prevented it. Again an attempt was made, and again Ted fought it off. In defensive desperation, Ted latched onto the back of Reyes head, and dropped to the arena floor, using his 200 plus pounds to pull Benny's throat across the top rope.
The loss of air snapped Reyes upward as he stumbled back towards the center of the ring gasping, attempting to quickly regain his breath. Ted took the opportunity to hop back onto the ring apron and line up his shot. Smith ran towards Ted, but was mere milliseconds late as Palmer leapt up, using the top rope as a springboard. Ted gracefully flew into the ring, his Fabio like mane flying in slow motion fashion behind him. All three models clearly appreciated a good set of hair when they saw one. What they didn't appreciate was the flying knee that landed square center in Benny’s face, dropping the largest member of the trio.
Ted rolled through onto mat, perching himself in the corner of the ring. With both hands on his face, Reyes didn't get knocked over completely but still struggled to pull himself back to an upright position. He felt his nose, bridge to tip, to make sure it was still photograph worthy, and his concerns were thankfully stifled. As he turned around in relief, he was caught by the sprinting Palmer with a launching slingblade that drove the back if his head into the mat. Ted again opted out of the pinfall attempt, looking to keep his momentum going, again setting up shop in the corner of the ring.
“Benny Boy! Stay down!” Taylor pleaded.
“No! Get up! Trust me!” Grady shouted.
“You shut up!” Peter snapped back.
“No you shut up!” Grady replied.
“Everyone shut up!” Benny interjected, not knowing whether the console his face or the back of his head.
The childish ringside antics distracted Benny from the impending doom that awaited him inside the ring. As he made his way to his feet, he was in a dazed fog from the blow his head took off the little give to it ring mat. He turned around, unexpectedly to be met with what could've very well spelled the end of his quest to avenge his photogenic friend.
The teeth shattering kick dropped Reyes, sending him gracefully to the canvas. As the birdies chirped overhead, Teddy, yet again, made no attempt for a pinfall, desiring the final blow to end this match emphatically: The Dirty Dangle 2.0. Each blow had chipped away at Reyes, and each time he was slower getting to his feet. To this point he had only rolled over on to his stomach.
It was time for the models to unite...
Smith hopped up onto the apron, hollering at the not too bright Simon Brack. Bracks attention towards Smith was the opening Pham had desired as he slid into the ring with vicious intentions dancing in his head. He tapped his foot on the canvas looking to gain retribution, two weeks in the making. He waited for Teddy to turn around, and as he did…
SWING IN A MISS!
Teddy dodged the flying foot towards his genitals, letting them live to see another day. Pham whipped around to counter Ted’s dodgeball-esque agility, but what came next, he was not expecting…
A KICK TO THE NUTS!
Pham screamed like one could imagine a guy getting kicked in the nuts would. Pham hunched over and soon there was no air left in his lungs to scream, but it didn't prevent him from trying. Teddy exposed of the Asians body, dumping him with little care between the middle ropes outside the ring.
However, with his attention occupied with Pham, Reyes had risen to his feet. Perched and ready to pounce on Ted as he turned around, Pham's sacrificed testicles was the opening that HE needed. His opening was only a temporary one though, as an unexpected set of arms wrapped themselves around his feet from outside the ring.
Reyes made quick work getting free of the little man's weak grip, but yet another opening was provided via the distraction of another non participant…
ANOTHER KICK TO THE NUTS!
Teddy went two for two on his field goal attempts, this time dropping Reyes to his knees. Grady hobbled as quickly as possible around the ring as Reyes gifted the audience with screams of his own. With one swift swipe of his cane, Grady took Smith's legs out from under him, sending him tumbling hard onto the unforgiving ring apron, rolling off to the equally unforgiving concrete floor.
Brack, (who might I add must be deaf to have not heard or at least acknowledged the prior guttural screams) annoyed with the outside shenanigans, turned around to the in ring action, just in time to witness Teddy Palmer rebounding off the ropes towards a kneeled and groin clutching Benny Reyes.
DIRTY DANGLE 2.0!
Much like last Slam, it was academic from this point.
Ted draped himself on top the limp body of Reyes as Simon Brack dropped into position to make the count.
DING! DING! DING!
“Your winner of the match, TEDDY PALMER!”
Teddy was quick to roll out of the ring, avoiding Taylor Smith who was darting into the ring. His cocky grin had steam exiting Smith's ears, and he held up two fingers to signify each member of the Modelling School he had downed. Grady Patrick stepped over the still squealing Pham to join Ted, raising his hand victoriously in the air as “Hallelujah” serenaded the arena.
MaX-Files: The Invasion
Space Hopper Command Bridge
NBW Slam returned from commercial straight to a flying saucer wobbling its way through space. A familiar voice, that of the Keystone (Title) Guardian, Max Hopper, spoke over the scene.
“NBW, not another Frontier…” Max Hopper began. “These are the voyages of the Flying Saucer Space Hopper. Its mission, to save the universe in the coolest ways possible… To boldly do what no wrestler has done before!”
appeared above the flying saucer as it zoomed to and fro through space. The fans inside the West End Park Amphitheater screamed out in joy.
The scene shifted to the bridge of the Space Hopper. There was an eerie green light. The bridge was full of consoles packed with buttons and blinking lights. Sitting in the captain’s chair was pro-wrestling’s chief expert on the weird and bizarre, himself, Max Hopper, complete with his trademark tinfoil hat on his head, SeX-Ray Specs™ on his face, and Keystone (Title) around his waist. Comfortably occupying the chair next to him was none other than the winner of NBW 25 to Life, the man who would have a shot at the NBW World Championship at Legacy, BROCK NEWBLUDD!
Max had some abrasions peaking out from underneath his SeX-Ray™ specs. These abrasions were leftovers from the attack one Alex Reyn mounted against him at the last episode of NBW Slam, in Istanbul. Even with the bruises, Max was still pleased as punch to have his good buddy Brock Newbludd, winner of NBW 25 to Life, as his guest for another episode of his show.
“Hey NBW fans and Space Cadets!” Max Hopper greeted the fans. “Make sure to put on your Max Hopper OFFICIAL tinfoil hats, because it’s time for another exciting episode of MaX-Files! I’m your host, Max Hopper. And tonight is a very special night, because I have as my very special guest a very good friend and future Champion of Earth, the winner of NBW 25 to Life 2017, BROCK NEWBLUDD!”
Max paused for a moment to let the fans in the West Park Amphitheater, who were watching on the Epicenter, get their cheers out for Brock. Once the cheering had died down, he continued.
The paranormal investigator turned his attention toward his guest. “Welcome to the Space Hopper, Brock.”
“Thanks, Max, it’s good to be here. This is a pretty cool ship you got,” Brock replied before hitting a button on the high tech chair to spin around in a complete circle.
“Don’t play with that. My chief engineer is still working out the kinks,” Hopper cautioned him. “So, you’re the big winner of this year’s NBW 25 to Life. Wait… it is this year, isn’t it?” Max asked, checking his watch. “It is. Good. Alright, well, everyone has been sending me one question in their faxes, texts, emails, telegraphs, smoke signals, and sub-wave radio. How did it feel to win the big match and a shot at the World Title?”
“Well buddy, to be honest, I felt a lot of things right after I tossed Jake Tockwell’s sorry ass out of the ring and…” Newbludd stopped briefly to glance at Hopper with a wry smile. “Can I say ass on your show?”
The Keystone (Title) Guardian answered, “The kids’ tinfoil hats should protect them, so they’ll be fine! And speaking of tinfoil hats, I have something for you...” Max reached down next to him and produced a tinfoil hat, just for Brock Newbludd! “Here you go, guy! Just a little congratulations present.”
“Hey, what a guy, thanks Max!” Brock said as he took the aluminum headpiece from Max and examined it as if it were a precious artifact before setting it down on the floor next to him.
“Well go ahead and try it on!” Max urged Brock and Newbludd waved a dismissing hand at his friend.
“I better not buddy, it might mess with the microchip the government put in my head when I was stationed at the Groom Lake facility,” Brock replied with a straight face. “You probably don’t want me to short circuit and go all ‘Winter Soldier’ on your spaceship, I reckon.”
The paranormal investigator was intrigued by Brock’s admission. “Groom Lake? You were at Area 51? What year?”
“Oh, I was only there for a short stint, 2004 maybe,” Brock answered as he nervously scratched his head. “I was just guarding a shipment of some three foot long boxes... kinda shaped like coffins, now that I think about it… nothing too exciting.”
“Ah okay. That was before I escaped from there, then. Glad I wasn’t responsible for you losing your job, then! Remind me after the show and I can remove that chip for you, if you want. Getting back on course, though,” Hopper tried to steer the interview back on topic.
“Right, right,” Brock agreed. “And thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass. If I turn my head just the right way I can pick up Milwaukee Brewers games from anywhere in the world.”
Brock suddenly turned his head ever so slowly until he reached a certain point and stopped, suddenly a big grin grew across his face.
“Hey hey!” he exclaimed. “Brew Crew’s up by two runs!”
Newbludd slapped his friend on the knee in celebration, before straightening in his chair and clearing his throat.
“Anyways... to answer your question. Winning 25 to Life was an incredible feeling, Max. First off, I had been chomping at the bit to get my hands on Tockwell after he injured me, and it felt like poetic justice to have him be the last guy I eliminated on my way to victory. Secondly, I’ve been in this business for a long time, and it felt like all my hard work that I’ve put in through those years finally paid off in that match. But, I tell you what buddy, don’t be thinking that I’m done yet, I’ve still got a title to win at Legacy.”
Suddenly Brock’s eyes widened and he leaned over in his chair to give Max a slap on the back.
“Congrats to you too man, that Keystone belt looks good on you!”
“Thanks, Guy!” Max Hopper beamed, patting the Keystone (Title), which was around his waist. “It’s really important for me to have control of the Keystone right now, with this evil threat looming over NBW trying to bring about an apocalypse, and all.”
“Apocalypses are never good,” Brock agreed. “I’d love to help you out with that buddy, but this 25 to Life win of mine has put a giant bullseye on my back, and now I got a so called ‘bounty hunter’ coming after me. Well, more like he’s coming after what I have.”
“If Jones wants to take me on, he’s going to have to do it face to face. He’s going to have to be the tough guy he thinks he is. And if he does, I’m going to send his ass packing, just like Ali Amore did. Nobody’s taking this title shot from me, especially not some bingo hall cage fighter like Jones,” a now sneering Brock answered.
It is sometimes the case that causes follow their effects. This was one such example, as the answer preceded its question. Non-linear causality, timey wimey, time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so, and the like. “You were jumped last week by Benjamin Jones. What’s going on there?”
This reverse in the normal causal relationship created a brief period of awkwardness. It was soon interrupted when the door to the command center slid open. A Cylon appeared in the doorway, shouting in his robotic voice, “INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!”
“Should I set my phaser to stun?” Brock asked his friend.
Seeing Hopper’s eyes were on the Cylon, Brock did another 360 spin in his chair for fun.
“What is it, Ron? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of an interview?” pro-wrestling’s leading authority on all things weird and bizarre barked at his Cylon crewman.
The answer soon followed as Ron the Cylon was bowled over by the Rich Family, who stormed the Space Hopper bridge, catching Max Hopper and Brock Newbludd completely by surprise!
“Oh shit! Space carnies!” Brock blurted out before pushing a random button on the console in front of him, causing the ship to tilt to the right. “Engineering report! We need more Rons up here!”
Max scolded his friend as he tumbled out of the captain’s chair. “I told you not to touch anything!”
“Shields at fifty percent!” Newbludd yelled with a hint of laughter in his voice as he fell out of his chair as well.
The spaceship had brought out the child in Newbludd, but that light heartedness evaporated from his demeanor as he scrambled up to his feet to help defend his friend’s pride and joy.
Then the ship tilted again, causing both him and Max to fall back down.
Surprisingly, the Riches had been able to maintain their balance during this by hanging onto the console and with their two targets struggling in front of them they pounced.
Freddie Rich picked up Max by the head and smashed him right into a console! Sparks flew everywhere, while Todd and Donny both started to rain down the punches onto Brock like hurricane Tammi with an i.
“Get em’ boys!” Declan exclaimed as he took a step forward to help Freddie put the boots to Max, when suddenly a pair of silver robotic hands wrapped around his waist!
“Defensive protocol 467890!” the robot exclaimed as he lifted a shocked Declan up higher in the air.
“ATOMIC DROP!” Ron’s metallic voice exclaimed and he dropped Declan down to have him land split legged across his giant metal knee!
Flopping to the ground, young Declan grabbed his tailbone in pain while Ron awkwardly lifted one arm up and bent it to put a hand to his ear.
“Defensive protocol, designation Omega...”
Suddenly the robot’s right leg bent at the hip to stick out straight, while flames shot out underneath his opposite foot to lift him to a hovering position a good four feet above a cowering Declan.
“BATTLESTAR LEG DROP!”
With that the jets cut out from his single boot, causing Ron to fall straight down towards Declan.
“AHHHH!” Declan shrieked in terror as he rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being utterly crushed by Ron’s huge metal leg!
Well, let’s just say that when whoever, or whatever, designed and built the ship they never planned for a 1,000 pound robot doing leg drops on it.
Which would explain why Ron’s descent didn’t stop when he hit the floor as he busted completely through it to land on the deck below it.
“Detecting fracture in outer anal hull, shutting down into self repair mode.” Ron’s voice could be heard through the massive hole he just made.
This freed up Declan to help his oldest brother. Freddie started to direct traffic and ordered Declan and Todd to put Max Hopper and Brock Newbludd into headlocks.
“Did I just hear that your robot just tore his butthole?” Brock’s muffled voice asked his friend as he tried to break free of Todd’s headlock, only to receive a fist to his face for his effort.
“I… think so… “ Max coughed back, trying to get air in his lungs.
“He...just...tore himself a new asshole!” Brock managed to say back and received another fist in his face an instant later.
“This… isn’t… the time for this!” Max sputtered, trying not to laugh.
“Now what are we gonna do with them?” Todd asked Freddie.
“We’re on a spaceship,” Declan suggested, “we could space them.”
“There’s an idea,” Freddie agreed. “You like space so much, Hopper? Let’s see how much you like it when we throw you out the airlock!”
With that, the Rich Family moved off the bridge and into the corridor, ushering the caught 25 to Life Winner and Keystone (Title) Guardian toward the nearest airlock. Normally, this would be the time for a voiceover asking if our heroes would be able to escape an out of this world death and instructing everyone to tune in next week. Not the case tonight.
As they approached the airlock, Max spotted something on the wall. “Brock… “ he coughed. “Brock! That button… up there…”
“I know,” Brock answered, “don’t touch anything.”
“No… push… it!” Max offered his permission this one time for Brock to play with the ship’s buttons.
Brock gleefully obliged, doing his best to reach…
“Prepare… for ...more ...Rons...space...carnies!”
And he got it! Or something in the area of it, at least. Immediately, a very loud, computerized voice announced, “THANK YOU FOR PRESSING THE SELF DESTRUCT BUTTON. THIS SHIP WILL SELF DESTRUCT IN TWO MINUTES AND FORTY FIVE SECONDS!” This was followed by a second-by-second countdown.
“Huh?” Brock surprisingly asked. “You said that button, right?”
“Trust… me,” Max assured him as his face started to turn purple.
The Rich Family was thrown into a panic, causing Todd and Declan to let go of their two hostages. Freddie gave the order. “What the bloody hell? Quick, get off the ship before it explodes!”
Freddie, his cousin, and his two brothers all fled the scene! They found an escape pod and got away just as the countdown reached…
Brock cringed… But nothing happened!
“What the… I thought this thing was going to self destruct?” the 25 to Life winner asked in confusion.
Max rubbed his throat, trying to catch his breath. “Oh, that’s just where I left off in Space Balls.”
Deep in thought, Darren Best sat alone, staring into space until his daydream was quashed by an arm around his shoulder, courtesy of cocky and Cockney sidekick, Alfie Button: "Dazza, what's the matter, my son?"
Best gazed at his other half, well in a wrestling sense at least: "Nothing, Alfie."
"Uncle Alfie reckons you've said ya all right all week because you fink that and deep down, you do. But now, it's 'ere, 'e's ere and you're 'avin' second foughts. It's fine, my man. I mean, 'e almost killed you..."
"I'm sorry. But, you've always wanted this. The chance to look 'im in the eye, kick 'im in the balls and whip his arse all over the ring. Well, we're gonna do that in just a minute. So, wipe away those tears and chase away those restless fears..."
"Are you quoting Dire Straits?"
"'Dire 'oo? I read that on Facebook."
Best smiled: "I believe that."
Alfie tapped him on the shoulder: "You should. And start believing that we're gonna annihilate Alex and VIP."
Full of his normal brashness, Button stood up and exited left. Darren took a moment, let out a deep sight and whispered to himself: "Here we go. This is it."
This wasn't a typical tag match for Darren Best and probably ranked above his tag team title tilts.
They were professional.
This was PERSONAL.
Are We Allowed to Call People Strange Bedfellows in 2017
Even with the sun dipping below the horizon as Slam kicked off here in Qatar, it was still sweltering. That is the exact excuse Veronica Hoyt had holstered had anyone the stones to ask why she had a large scale fan blowing just off-screen. It just so happened that she knew how her hair looked with a gentle breeze blowing through it.
“Three, two,” came from stage left.
Hoyt took her cue and flashed a friendly, subtle smile into millions of homes worldwide. “Guys and Gals, I am your new, fresh face of hard hitting journalism, Veronica Hoyt.”
“Get on with it, girl,” crawled in from stage right, with sting in its tail.
“With more sass and ass than my sister.”
“Damnit Veronica !”
With short pouting and flawless eye rolling, Veronica continued, “And I am being joined by the self-professed Parmesan of the Industry; Zee.”
The camera panned back and re-centred to include the half covered, totally scowling face of Zed. He had to bob his head out of the way of Veronica’s whipping locks.
“It is the Paragon of the Industry, fool. And my name,” he stammered to find the words to accurately describe just how flabbergasted he was at such airheadedness, “stupid bitch, is Zed.”
Giving up on posing for the camera, Veronica turned to make eye contact with the subject with whom she was intending to conduct this interview. And her hair totally had Zed wiping at his face. “Zed? Really? Is that a British thing?”
Zed’s face went stone cold, not even dignifying that with a response. “Do you actually have some questions for me? I am kind of trying to... no… very busy preparing for this match against Xiang and his pet monster.”
“That’s it!” Finger snap and all. “I wanted to get your thoughts on the chance our GM Harmen has given you tonight, after that attack last week. You know, after you lost to Quinlan?” That jab was unnecessary, and entirely intentional.
Zed’s first reaction was to clear his throat. Then sidestep the insult, letting the fantasy of Michelle Couli popping Veronica’s head off like a Barbie-doll take place of any counter-punching. There was real punching to be talking of. “Xiang never was the smartest fortune cookie in the Chinese restuarant, was he? I brought him out of obscurity that was 4CW, along with that wannabe fighter Yulan, to form my XYZ Affair faction. They were a means to an end. And an end I enjoyed putting the period on. But to do something so bold, and cheap, as to attack me after a match? And for what? To try and prove some kind of point years later? That his attack dog was something to be feared?”
Pause for a breath and awkward villainous laughter.
“Let’s see how frightening this roster finds his attack dog after Rune and I neuter that bitch.”
“I may have to thank Harmen for actually getting something right for once. He starts keeping this up and I might just allow myself to believe this boat isn’t being driven by a bunch of monkeys.”
“But, Zee…” Veronica tried a second time to call Zed’s attention.
“Now the next step is showing him, this place, and the whole damned world why I am the Paragon of the Industry. And why I will close out this year with the single most dominant performance of any competitor under contract to this Hellhole, past or present.” Zed’s chin was high, his hands punctuating each line. He was getting wrapped up in his self-aggrandizing, if only this pesky girl would stop trying to cut in.
“But Zed, while this is going to be a tag match, Rune will not be your tag partner tonight,” that statement half sounding like a question as Veronica had a look of surprise on her face.
But it was nothing compared to Zed’s.
“What? What do you mean, little girl?”
Obliging, Veronica started, “Tonight’s tag match will be Xiang and the Great Wall against…”
“If Rune wasn’t my partner, then just who exactly is?” Zed asked, cutting Veronica off before she was going to get to his answer.
Frustration etched on her face, Veronica turned and signalled for the fan to be killed. She took a lower tone and said, “You will be teaming tonight with Mitchell Quinlan.”
“For fuck’s sakes!” the immediate, guttural response from Zed.”Of all the ass-minded shit that this office has tried to play on me, now this!?” Zed was all about his pity party, but Veronica only smiled. “Enough of you, I need to find that imbecile Harmen and have him straighten this out, one way or the other,” Zed barked turning away from Hoyt, heading off-camera.
“Don’t really think you have the time, Super Chief. Wasn’t your match next?” Veronica asked through pursed lips.
Zed turned his head back to Hoyt, then to camera, and finally back to the direction he was headed in. He took a stride or two out of frame and let out a cry of frustration. “Fuck!” echoed throughout the hallway.
Camera back on Veronica, she smiled and signed off, “That match is coming up on this other side of this commercial, so, stayed tuned sweeties.”
Out of commercial, the image was back to the arena and the crowd standing up to boo, because their universal favourite heat magnet, Xiang was on the stage. “Born in China” rang out through the West End Park Amphitheatre and mixed with the jeers and produced something that was near magic to the Chinese Patriot’s ear. The other thing so magic? That’d be the giant, muscle-bound man simply known as the Great Wall was striding behind.
“How much do you figure Xiang feeds Wall a day?” C.G. Gains asked, assumedly grabbing his wallet off-screen .
“Feeds?” Van der Aart quipped. “I always just thought Xiang let him run through a forest, having him eat everything from duck to deer to, well, probably bear.”
“Making there way to the ring!” the always excited Brent Williams started. “Proudly hailing from Beijing, China! Weighing in tonight at two hundred and fifteen pounds! He is the Artist of War! XIANG!”
As Williams was getting his second breath, Xiang and the Great Wall were climbing up the apron. The Great Wall gazing in our dear announcer’s direction was enough to have him double clutch on his delivery.
“With him, from Guangzhou, China! We really didn’t get a chance to get his weight for tonight because he scared away our technicians! He is the GREAT WALL!”
“How do you figure they’d go about weighing something that big? Have him step on two scales? One foot on each and just add the numbers together?” C.G. Gains brought the hard hitting questions.
Waiting for their opponents, the Great Wall took a few last minute stretches against the ropes, while Xiang spoke Mandarin to a totally confused Brent Williams. But at least Xiang finished it with a laugh? Or was that worse?
The mood in Qatar changed when the opening lyric of ”Heavy” by the Glorious Sons replaced Born in China.
”Come heavy or don’t come at all…
You leave your piece at home, that’s your call…”
Fresh new theme, still serious face.
“Odd how we came to this match tonight. As last Slam, Quinlan picked up the victory, but then circled back to help Zed against the attack by Xiang and the Great Wall,” Van der Aart with the exposition.
“I would say that was the dumbest move this guy has ever made, but, you also have to remember Quinlan had the opportunity to make himself the 25th and final entrant in the 25 to Life match and squandered that on his little rivalry with Zed.”
“That didn’t stop him from putting on a spirited performance...” Melissa tried to start down that road.
“Spirited? Glue sniffer there was tossed a half hour before the match ended,” Gains shut that shit down. “But, I guess the worst thing that happened because of that mistake was another in a long list of disappointments for this paint chip eater. Swinging a chair at the Great Wall?” he let hang like a legitimate question for a beat. “Maybe the Wall will do me a solid and literally squash this punk. Get him off our televisions for good,” was punctuated with a short burst of honest, and evil, laughter.
While his character was under assail out of earshot, Quinlan never took his eyes from the ring, even when he was bumping ‘knucks’ with the fans hung over the guardrail. It was a good thing the fans were paying attention, but oh, the .GIF that could have made…
“Hailing from Brantford, Ontario, Canada! He weighs in tonight at two hundred and twenty eight pounds! Mitchell QUINLAN!”
Bracing a knee against the apron, Quinlan yanked himself up. But rather than go to the top, then flop into the ring with the all-too welcoming Xiang and Great Wall, Quinlan stuck to the apron. He didn’t take his eyes off of them, but knew the music was going to switch any time now.
Any time now.
“You don’t think Zed is actually appealing this match with General Manager Harmen right now, do you?”
“Or he is just showing why he is the smartest guy on this roster,” Gains countered. “I mean, why would he want to get into that ring with something the Great Wall? And then to be forced into teaming with the guy that broke his nose on the last Slam?”
“Zed asked for this match, in a roundabout way. And now he is just going to walk away? The Paragon isn’t a coward, is he?” Van der Aart was just able to finish before the familiar tune finally cut into the Glorious Sons.
”Frontline” by Pillar.
“I always knew Zed wouldn’t back out of this one. He’d probably have done it by himself if it came to it,” C.G. broke ankles with that pivot.
And sure enough, from the back and onto the stage was the half-covered visage of the Paragon our this Industry. Notably absent was his preferred tag partner and hired gun, Rune. Zed took a few steps toward to the ring to shout something, presumably to Xiang, but our microphones didn’t really pick it up. Zed turned and made it immediately clear.
“And now Rune, too? The numbers game just swung out of Xiang’s favour,” Melissa posited.
“Not really. The Great Wall has easily got to be worth what? Three guys?” Gains counter-posited.
With his own heavy in tow, Zed ignored the few people that reached out, not always with all fingers up, on his way to the ring. Tonight he was focused.
“And his tag team partner! Hailing from Parts Unknown! Weighing in tonight at two hundred and forty seven pounds! The self-professed Paragon on the Industry! ZED!”
Zed swiftly made his way up the steps to a short conference on the apron with Quinlan.
“I can’t say I expected this much chemistry from these two. Zed is holding the ropes for Quinlan?” Melissa was puzzled.
But then Quinlan leapt over the top rope.
“Spoke too soon, I guess.”
Across the ring, Xiang was giving final instructions to the Great Wall before the giant took a place on the apron.
“Xiang and Quinlan to get this one underway! Let’s go!”
Quinlan stepped to the middle of the ring and pointed to the spot Xiang should stand. Cautiously, Xiang walked over, and seeing a free shot to be taken, blasted Quinlan with a backhand. The strike swayed Quinlan, and keeping on him, Xiang tried in with a jab. It wasn’t until he grabbed a tuft of hair that Quinlan launched a counter attack. First breaking the grip with a Pro Bowl DE quality rip, Q knocked Xiang to the mat with less of a STO, and more of a lariat/heel trip combo. Xiang corkscrewed to the match.
Xiang tried to scramble back to his corner, but found Quinlan had ahold of his foot. Carefully, Xiang got up on one foot, begging with Quinlan to let him go. When that failed, he swung a right that nearly toppled him, but didn’t connect with Quinlan. Tired of the game, Quinlan swung Xiang around. With rear position, it wasn’t long before he had a waist lock, and Xiang sailed overhead with the German.
Landing in the unfriendly corner, Xiang used the ropes to get up, looking timidly at Zed’s unnerving smile. The quick display from Quinlan had tossed out any gameplan Xiang may have walked into this match with. Trying to avoid getting caught with a right from the outside, Xiang didn’t notice Quinlan charging his way forward.
Xiang slumped back down in that corner, and Zed held his hand over the top rope. Quinlan took assessment between Xiang and Zed, then Xiang and Zed again. This may have been the first recorded instance of Zed getting a pop for tagging into a match.
Zed poured quickly through the ropes and began laying in boot after boot. As our ref, Ed Gates, tried to back him out of the corner, he would relent, but only far enough to gain a little steam for his Drive-By boot.
This match hadn’t started the way the Artist of War had envisioned. No way did he think he’d have to try to escape a pin attempt this early.
Xiang was able to rock a shoulder up, but Zed was only trying to force Xiang to expend some energy. As for the rest of that energy, Zed quickly cinched in a chin lock. After a minute struggling in the hold, Xiang was finally able to get vertical enough to drop back down. The Jawbreaker broke the hold.
Now with a small window, Xiang laid in measured strikes to the temple, ear and neck. Taking Zed by the neck, Xiang was looking for a DDT, but instead was lifted into the air and tossed a few feet back by the much larger Zed. Not long after Xiang landed, he was taken off of his feet by a Super Kick.
Looking to regain his dominance, Zed picked up Xiang, or tried to.
“Son of a fuck!” Zed let fly, grabbing his hand, now red with Xiang’s dental imprint.
Shaking that off, he balled up a fist and just missed driving it through Xiang’s mush. But, deftly ducking below, Xiang kicked at the back of Zed’s knee. Twice. And with the larger man chopped to size, Xiang took a wrist lock. Ringing round a time or two, Xiang transitioned into a shoulder lock and leaned back to the waiting Great Wall. Close enough, Xiang slipped one arm out and extended to meet the bear-like paw.
Finally able to loosen his arm out from Xiang’s grip, Zed shoved him into the corner, unaware of the tag. One back elbow was all Zed could score before he felt the Great Wall grab his shoulder and forcefully remove him from the corner.
Getting to his feet, Zed clued in to his new opponent. But took almost too long to figure out how he’d go about this giant, only narrowly dodging a lazy haymaker. Speed would have to be the game, so Zed pulled his best Rocky impersonation, using the Great Wall’s ribs like a boxing bag.
The problem with getting that close was how easy it became for the Great Wall to swat Zed back with a Rear Elbow. Undeterred, Zed was looking to combine speed and force with a shoulder block. The Great Wall didn’t budge. The Paragon’s disbelief was short lived and replaced with the idea that a second attempt would be all it took. So Zed took back off to the ropes, but had all the air knocked out of him as the Great Wall used his head like a battering ram, striking him in the chest.
Pounding a hand on the mat after that one, Zed could only use his feet to kick away the Great Wall as he slid himself back to his corner. When the Great Wall locked eyes with Quinlan, he stopped his pursuit and seemed to welcome Zed’s exit.
Quinlan leapt over the ropes and started walking directly to the smiling giant. And while that was an image that would send most sane men running in the other direction, Quinlan only offered one back, before dipping in and firing off a series of stiff thigh kicks. The Great Wall was able to swat Quinlan back some before he was fell, he only left Quinlan the room to spin back with a stiff right; Spinning Backfist!
The Great Wall was staggered a bit, but bemused when he felt Quinlan trying to reach around his waist. What could Quinlan do with a waist lock? The confidence faded from the Wall as the crowd’s excitement ramped up when Quinlan had somehow gotten a few millimetres of air between the Great Wall’s feet and the ringmat.
But then Quinlan’s back gave out before he could do anything as silly as toss the near four hundred pounder over for a German.
With a touch of fear, Wall got serious quickly. Back safely on his feet, he used his massive forearms like an ax to swing away against Quinlan’s back. After walking Quinlan around the ring with those, the Great Wall easily yanked Q high into the air in a Military Press. Fight not beaten completely out of him at the point, Quinlan wriggled himself free and slipped down with a Hurricanrana… ish. He wasn’t able to flip the big man down, but the motion was still enough to create some separation. Enough space to try to tag in the fresher man.
But Zed wasn’t to be found standing on the apron. He hadn’t been there since he tagged out. By the time Quinlan was looking to him for some help, Zed and Rune where taking their final steps to the back. With this realization, desperation found a home on Quinlan’s face.
But then something else clicked. Like early Fall Out Boy said, ‘Sugar, we’re going down swingin’!
Clambering back to his feet, Quinlan fired a few rights to the face of the Great Wall. He pressed on with a pair of inside thigh kicks, and finally a straight kick to the chest. The Great Wall was stunned by the flurry, giving Quinlan the moment he needed to head to the second rope and leap toward him with a Shining Wizard!
The Great Wall was to a knee after Q’s found it’s mark. If he was going to pull this off, there was no time to waste. Quinlan took the ropes looking for the added momentum for something, but found Xiang’s knee in his back instead. His Blitzkrieg sunk, Quinlan tried to take a piece out of Xiang. Instead, the Great Wall swung a fist with ill-intent to the weakening back of Quinlan. The blow knocked Q to his knees in obvious pain.
“Jiéshù tā!” instructed Xiang.
And ‘end it’ the Great Wall sought to do, taking Quinlan up in the standing arm triangle.
Five Stars Vice!
Quinlan could do little to fight his way out, his back twinging with pain every time he thought about throwing a knee or kick. Still though, he wasn’t going to be giving up without trying something.
But it kinda gets hard to think when you don’t have any oxygen going to the brain.
The referee made his way to the free arm of Quinlan and tried raising it. It fell limply back against the massive frame of the Great Wall. Trying to raise it another two times wouldn’t do anything. Trying to protect Quinlan, Ed Gates signalled for the bell.
This one was over.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your winners of this match! Xiang and the Great Wall!”
”Born in China” started to play again, but the Great Wall held that choke for a few more seconds. When he finally decided he was finished, he just let Quinlan flop to the mat Xiang took the center of the ring to celebrate while ringside medical staff rolled Quinlan out of the ring to check on him.
I feel so sorry for you right now.
He’s backstage. You know how this goes.
“Hello, nbW fans!” Trent said. “I’m Trent McKnight and standing by at this time, I have with me… Clan Strongbern.”
Off-camera, a voice could be heard; a very unmistakable and booming voice at that.
“YOU LITTLE BITCH… WHAT KIND OF INTRO IS THAT? PUT SOME STANK ON IT.”
“Glad I’m moving on to web content soon…” he muttered under his breath before throwing a little more gusto into his intro. “I have with me… Clan Strongbern!”
“DO YOU EVEN HAVE PUBES, MCKNIGHT? JESUS CHRIST, GIMME THAT…”
The always angry and possibly deluded Big Rick Strongbern marched onto the stage in a huff with all three of his goons. Little Ricky Strongbern, Rik Bonebreaker-Strongbern and Ri-Khan Strongbern. The latter growled at Trent again in a very low tone as Big Rick patted him on the shoulder.
“TRENT, YOU REMEMBER RI-KHAN, RIGHT? LOYAL ATTACK DOG, HE’S GONNA FUCK YOU UP IF YOU DON’T DO WHAT I SAY.”
Trent stood there with Big Rick putting the mic back in his hand as Ri-Khan let out another growl.
Big Rick snapped his finger at Trent to put the attention back on him.
“YOU’RE A MIC STAND NOW, SO SIT THERE AND HOLD THAT SHIT.”
McKnight did as he was told with Big Rick holding the mic.
“CLAN STRONGBERN HAS SOME IN-RING BIDNESS WE NEED TO HANDLE, SO LIKE TRENT, I’M GONNA MAKE THIS SHORT…” he emphasized the last word despite only being a couple inches taller than Trent standing at 5’9”. “... AND LIKE ME, I’M GONNA MAKE THIS SWEET.” He turned to Little Ricky. “LITTLE RICKY!”
The Artist Formerly Known as Tremoid turned down the man that owned his contract.
“YOU GOT THAT BOGOTA BITCH, ALI AMORE. PUT HIS ASS IN THE GROUND.”
Little Ricky nodded. Big Rick turned to Bonebreaker-Strongbern and Ri-Khan.
“YOU TWO… YOU GOT THE UNSTOPPABLES IN A TAG MATCH. SAME THING I JUST TOLD LITTLE RICKY… DO THAT TO TYSON EXTRA SMALL AND LITTLE BITCH GRAVENDER. YOU GOT THAT?”
Rik chuckled. “I’m gonna break their faces and it’s gonna be sweet.”
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Ri-Khan yelled. That probably meant he understood his instructions.
The leader of Clan Strongbern folded his arms and shot a sneer at Trent.
“HERE’S ONE MORE SOUNDBYTE FOR YOU… VIC, TYSON, YOU THINK THAT HAVING ALI AMORE AS YOUR LITTLE BACK-UP MADE A DIFFERENCE? WELL, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING THE TWO OF YOU CHUMPS ARE PROBABLY USED TO HEARING…”
Big Rick flexed an admittedly impressive bicep to the camera and then pointed at his thugs.
Clan Strongbern left quickly to go take care of business tonight.
Little Ricky vs. Ali Amore.
Clan Strongbern vs. The Unstoppables.
Don’t miss it!
Returning from break, the camera faded in to show the beautifully lit outside of the West End Park Amphitheatre, before doing a sweeping shot of the 14,500 rabid NBW fans that it currently contained. Zooming along the front row to let those lucky fans get their brief moment on television, the camera finally stopped to settle in front of the desk of the dynamic announcing duo of Melissa Vanderart and C.G. Gaines.
“Can you believe these fans here in Qatar, C.G.?” Mel asked her partner. “The atmosphere here is just electric!”
Nodding his head in agreement, C.G. spun around in his chair to take in the sold out crowd before coming to a stop and letting out a small chuckle.
“I can believe it Mel.” he smugly answered. “And why wouldn’t they be? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for these settlers to see international superstars like The In Crowd and Clan Strongbern live and in the flesh.”
Mel rolled her eyes at Gaines giving another one of his trademark biased and unsubstantiated claims.
“For some reason C.G., I highly doubt that very few people her in Doha have come out to see the likes of those two groups,” she said back, before raising an eyebrow to the grinning and oblivious looking man sitting next to her.
“And to call these people here ‘settlers’ is not only offensive, but entirely wrong. Qatar has the highest per capita income in the world,” she bluntly stated and now it was Gaines turn to roll his eyes.
“Lighten up Mel!” he said as he put his hands up defensively. “They should take that as a compliment, because everyone knows that they wouldn’t be so well-off here if they wouldn’t have invented that nerdy strategy game, Settlers of Qatar.”
Vanderart just stared at him blankly for a long moment and C.G. gave her a look of disbelief in return.
“You really need to get out more Mel,” he said in a mock caring tone. “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of Settlers of Qat---”
“Wow C.G., you never cease to outdo yourself,” Vanderart said, cutting off Gaines. “Let’s just move on to our next matchup, which will feature a young man from the Isle of Man---”
“Yes!” C.G. blurted out, to now cut Mel off. “I like this Charlie Birkin kid, Mel, he’s definitely going places here in the NBW. He’s got the three tools every wrestler needs to succeed...ability, charisma, and a boner inducing manager in Ali Carr! This kid has got the right stuff, no doubt.”
“I’ll have to agree with you on everything besides, for obvious reasons, the ‘boner inducing’ manager,” Mel answered with as straight of a face as she could. “And unless you want me to throw up on you, please contain that pocket rocket in your pants when Ali comes out.”
Crossing his arms, Gaines simply leaned back in his chair and frowned at Mel.
“Pocket Rocket?” Gaines scoffed. “More like thermonuclear missile, Mel. And thanks for agreeing with me, by the way. Recruiting Charlie and Ali was the best thing Matt Haddon has done with anything related to wrestling in YEARS! And if those two shining stars were wise, they’d avoid trying to learn anything from that choke artist!”
“They should probably just avoid Haddon all together, especially after they’re immature antics after Matt’s match on the last Slam,” Mel said. “For those two to come out and disrespect the man who brought them into the NBW was totally uncalled for.”
“Oh boo hoo for poor Matt!” Gaines shot back. “The guy walks around here like he’s got some kind of ‘pull’, and people should just respect him because he’s old and has the lowest hanging balls in the locker room. If you ask me, the ‘No Brand Dad’ should just stick to giving crappy wrestling lessons and leave the real wrestling to young studs who are hungry for success, like Charlie.”
Mel simply nodded her head and smiled to herself, causing Gaines to give her a suspicious look.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s funny that you mentioned ‘hungry young studs’, C.G.” Mel casually answered. “Because I was just about to get Charlie’s opponent for the night. While he might not be as lean on years as Mr. Manx, he’s most definitely what you would call a ‘stud’. In fact, I think it’d be safe to say that there’s no one hungrier, or on more of a roll, than him right now in the NBW.”
“Who is it?” C.G. asked trying his best to be as casual as Mel.
“Let’s just put it this way C.G., the only man in NBW right now who has a target on his back as big as this man’s is Warren Spade,” Mel said. “And last week, Benjamin Jones fired off the first shot at that target…”
Gaines face went completely white.
“How could Harmen do this!?” he cried out as he threw his hands up into the air. “Newbludd!? Charlie’s just a kid! This was that bastard Haddon’s doing, I know it was! Dammit… why couldn’t Jones just have finished him off then and there?”
“Because as history has shown us C.G., it’s going to take a lot more than that to take out the 25 to Life winner,” Mel pointed out.
“Sources earlier in the week told me that Harmen made this match after seeing Birkin’s disrespect of Haddon, and also because he didn’t want to deny the people of Qatar a chance to see Newbludd in action. A more than likely very angry Newbludd who has been hunting the hunter Jones since the heinous attack.”
C.G. folded his arms across his chest and looked away in disdain, while Mel looked up into the camera.
“There you have it folks, we’re ready for our next match!” Mel said. “Young and hungry Charlie Birkin going one on one against a man who a month ago ate twenty six other men’s lunches on his way to becoming the 25 to Life match winner, Brock Newbludd! With that, let’s send it up to Brent Williams!”
And that they did.
“The following contest is a singles match set for one fall!” Brent Williams announced for the fans of Qatar.
“Faster” by Within Temptation.
On one side of the massive stage towards ringside, a man in a black leather jacket walked out his hands fastly behind his arms with a smug smirk to the crowd. With him was a VERY attractive young blonde woman.
“Introducing first… from Douglas, in The Isle of Man… being accompanied to the ring by Ali Carr… weighing in at 223 pounds, this is ”MR. MANX” CHARLIE BIRKIN!”
Carr lowered to a knee and tightly hugged the waist of the young man with wavy brown hair a moustache right out of the 80s. The young Manx walked towards the ring arm-in-arm with Ali Carr and surveyed the crowd. On the one hand, it looked like Ali couldn’t believe they were there, but on the other, it looked like he belonged right there. Carr got to ringside first and opened the ropes by sitting on them. The 20-year-old Birkin entered the ring and gave Carr an uncomfortably long kiss before she followed inside. Ali walked up to Brent Williams and shot him a pair of goo-goo eyes before motioning that she wanted the microphone.
“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys!” Ali shouted in very bubbly and almost cloying voice that grated the citizens of Qatar. “It’s so great to be here tonight! You’re getting better, Mr. Announce Guy, but I think I can do better introducing my man, okay?”
She brushed Brent with a dismissive hand and he shook his head at the bubbly blonde.
“He is No Brand Wrestling’s future holder of all titles! He’s the totes-amazing best fiance ever! He is the apple to my eye and the best thing between my thighs…”
Birkin shot her a wink and a seductive smirk.
“Please allow ME to introduce the future defeater of Brock Newbludd… my love-bug... my fiance..." she showed off a modestly-sized rock on her left hand. "MR. MANX, CHARLIE BIRKIN!”
The cocky kid took a knee on the mat with one arm behind his back and extended the other arm upwards. The crowd booed at the self-serving introduction and Birkin smiled.
“Aye! The best that’s in!” said Birkin.
Birkin twirled his manly mustache. Ali gave the microphone back and watched Birkin hold out his hands. Ali took the coat off seductively for him before the 25 To Life winner was slated to arrive.
Carefully folding the coat up and tucking it underneath her arm, Ali made her exit from the ring, but not before blowing her fiance a kiss that made him grow another cocky grin across his face.
Sauntering over to a corner, the young man had a relaxed look about him. It was hard to tell if it was his inner confidence, youthful ignorance, or inherent arrogance that led to his nonchalant demeanor. Either way, this was a big opportunity for Birkin to make a name for himself in the NBW and he seemed unfazed by the growing buzz in the crowd as Brent raised the microphone up once again.
“And his opponent!” Williams bellowed out right before the late, great, Dimebag Darrell’s shredding guitar riff began to blare throughout the speakers of the arena.
‘Mouth for War’ by Pantera
Making his way out onto the large stage, ‘The Innovator’ Brock Newbludd received a tremendous ovation from the crowd. The 25 to Life winner looked full of vigor as he trotted to one side of the platform to raise a fist to the people before going to the opposite side to repeat the gesture.
“From Milwaukee, Wisconsin! Weighing in at 232 pounds...he is the 2017 25 to Life winner...he is ’THE INNOVATOR’...BROCK NEEEEWBLUUUUD!” Williams boomed out over the cheering masses before making his exit from the ring as referee Tal Nedrick made his way into it.
Hitting the ramp, Newbludd stopped briefly and threw his fist up again as red pyro shoot down each side of it. Despite the overwhelmingly positive reception from the people he called his ‘army’, Brock had the look of a man with bad intentions and he sneered when he caught sight of Charlie, who put his hand to his mouth to do a mock yawn at Newbludd’s arrival.
There was no doubt that Newbludd’s sour mood had to do with the man known as ‘The Bounty Hunter’, Benjamin Jones, who had not only taken Brock out in a well timed sneak attack on Slam 91, but had also staked claim to Newbludd’s world title shot at Legacy. After winning the 25 to Life match, Brock had become a marked man and now the best hunter in the game had targeted him.
Rumors in the back were that Brock’s frustrations also had to with the fact that he had been unsuccessful in trying to hunt down and exact some revenge on ‘The Bounty Hunter’ since the attack. It would appear that Jones was a hunter that would not make for easy prey.
So, needless to say, just seeing this newcomer from the Isle of Man brazenly disrespect him before their match more than likely only fueled Newbludd’s growing frustration even more.
Walking down the ramp and through the lingering smoke from the pyro, Brock stuck an arm out to slap hands with the fans, though he kept his anger filled crystal blue eyes fixed on Charlie, who took notice of Newbludd scowl and countered it with another toothy grin.
Sliding underneath the ropes, Newbludd popped up to his feet and walked towards the center of the ring, cracking the knuckles on each hand as he went. Meanwhile Charlie hopped out of his corner to walk with swagger towards the middle, twirling his moustache as he went.
Stepping in between the two and sticking his arms out to create some space, referee Nedrick quickly looked at each man and raised his arm up…
Only to be interrupted.
“LET’S GO CHARLIE! SHOW THEM WHY YOU PUT THE MAN IN ISLE OF MAN!” Ali screeched out before licking her lips erotically.
“Aye! There’s only ONE ‘Innovator’ here, babe!” Charlie confidently yelled back, just as Tal finally dropped his arm.
DING! DING! DING!
Taking a quick step and leaping in the air to close the gap between himself and the preoccupied Birkin, Brock brought the youngster’s full attention back to the match by driving his elbow straight down onto the top of Charlie’s head!
The blow caused Birkin’s knees to shake, and Brock quickly followed up by grabbing Mr. Manx right by the moustache!
“AHHH! AHHH! Let it go! Stop!” Charlie screamed out as Brock tugged on the thick lip rug, and Newbludd quieted him down by using his free hand to punch Birkin square in the jaw.
Dragging Birkin across the ring to the ropes, Newbludd finally let go of the young man’s prized mouth brow to land a flurry of knife edges chops that were followed up with a stiff clothesline that sent Mr. Manx up and over the top rope to land on the outside at the feet of a very distressed looking Ali Carr!
Leaning over the ropes to look down at the two, Brock wiped the sweat from his face with the hand he had grabbed Charlie’s moustache by and immediately pulled it away as a repulsed look came over him.
“What the hell!? Smells to me like you need to clean out that rotbox between those skinny little legs of yours, Ali!” Newbludd yelled down with a hint of amusement to Ali as she helped her man back up to his feet. “If he’s from the Isle of Man, then you must be from the Isle of Whore!”
Instantly, the manager’s face went red, though it was hard to tell if it was from embarrassment or anger and the fans who were closest to the scene burst out into laughter, before a threatening glare from Carr quickly shut them up.
Angered, Ali began to throw a hissy fit and let go of Charlie to start screaming a tirade insults at Brock who only laughed harder the more upset she got.
Meanwhile, Tal started counting Charlie out.
Getting up to his feet, Birkin’s face was just as red as his fiance’s, both for being tossed out of the ring by his flavor saver and for Brock’s opinion on what it smelled like.
“Some of the boys in the back thought you needed to be taught some respect, Charlie!” Brock yelled down to the fuming Birkin. “And your lesson starts now, boy!”
Backing away from the ropes, Newbludd gave Birkin ample space to get back in.
“GET IN THERE, CHARLIE! DEFEND MY HONOR!” the flustered Ali screamed at Birkin, and a much more serious looking Mr. Manx re-entered the ring.
“Nobody talks about Ali’s precious flower that way...NOBODY!” Charlie proclaimed as he rushed in at Brock.
Steamboat Armdrag from Newbludd!
With Charlie down on the mat, Newbludd kipped up and dashed towards the ropes and bounced off of them but found himself stumbling forward on the rebound courtesy of a well timed boot grab from Ali! Carr’s hand was so quick that Nedrick didn’t see it!
Though Tal did give Carr a suspicious glance as boos poured out from the packed house, and Ali simply gave Nedrick the most innocent smile she could muster.
Nearly going head over heels as he tried to regain his balance, Brock stumbled right into the waiting arms of Birkin, who had just done a kip up of his own to get back upright…
NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!
Charlie lifted Brock up and threw him over with a beautifully done release variation of the classic suplex! But, Birkin wasn’t done there, as he kipped up to his feet for a second time and blew the applauding Ali a kiss before leaping high in the air to drop a leg across Brock’s throat.
The youngster looked to keep his early momentum going against the cagey 25 to Life winner by hopping back up and delivering another leg drop to Brock before going for the first pin of the match.
Kickout by Newbludd!
As expected, Brock easily kicked out, though Birkin didn’t waste a second in keeping the pressure on by pinning Brock’s right arm down to the mat and driving a stiff knee directly into his shoulder. No doubt, Mr. Manx was showing some veteran know how by targeting his opponent's shoulder to weaken it for his trademark Bridging Fujiwara Armbar submission.
Sending another knee into Newbludd’s shoulder, Charlie then stood up and took a deep bow in the direction of his beautiful fiance that made her gush and everyone else in the arena boo with disdain.
Flashing his trademark cocky smirk to the thousands of haters surrounding him, Birkin picked Newbludd back up to his feet and set him up for a single arm DDT. Flashing a wink to Ali, Freddie jerked backwards to plant Brock and didn’t move an inch.
Suddenly Birkin’s eyes went wide with shock as his feet left the ground…
BRIDGING NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX BY NEWBLUDD!
Kickout by Charlie!
By repaying Charlie for the Northern Lights given to him before, Newbludd had turned the tide slightly back in his favor and he looked to keep it that way as he brought himself and Birkin back to a standing position.
Instantly Charlie lashed out with a right hand to catch Brock off guard, but Newbludd saw it coming and leaned back to avoid it while at the same time grabbing Charlie’s other arm to level him with a short arm clothesline!
Still hanging on to the arm, Brock pulled the disorientated Birkin back up before irish whipping him hard into the corner. Lining Charlie up, Newbludd rushed in and drove a flying knee right into Birkin’s stomach, causing the arrogant young man to double over in pain.
Grabbing the still bent over Charlie, Newbludd drug him out of the corner a couple feet before putting Birkin’s head between his legs and signaling to the cheering crowd that it was time for some piledriving.
Newbludd reached down and began to lift Birkin up, when suddenly the pesky Ali appeared on the ring apron, causing referee Nedrick to immediately warn her to get down.
Brock wasn’t fazed one bit by his opponent’s annoying fiance making a stink on the apron and lifted Birkin until he was fully upside down…
“OHMYGODNO!” Ali dramatically exclaimed as she saw her husband to be’s head get spiked into the mat and the shock of it all suddenly caused her to throw her arms in the air and crumple down to the apron.
She had fainted!
Busy throwing Charlie’s limp body off of him, Brock didn’t notice Ali’s crisis on the apron and hooked Birkin’s leg for the pin.
Still holding Birkin’s leg, Newbludd craned his neck to see that Nedrick was down on one knee checking on the Carr’s condition! Angrily, Brock screamed for the referee to get his head in the game before emphatically slapping his hand down on the mat with the crowd counting with him…
Brock shared the crowd’s disapproval of the veteran ref’s lapse in judgement, for if that would have been Nedrick’s hand hitting the mat, the match would have been over right then and there.
But, unfortunately for Brock counting his own pin would get him no closer to victory.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Newbludd yelled in frustration as he stood up and stomped towards Nedrick. “Christ, Tal, just kick her off the apron! You here to be a nursemaid or a referee!?”
Nedrick either didn’t hear Newbludd over the loud booing or he just chose to ignore it as he shook Ali by the shoulder. Then much to the referee’s relief, somehow Carr began to miraculously recover as soon as Brock started to make his way towards herself and Nedrick. Pulling herself up by the ropes, Carr gave Tal the most innocent of smiles as he offered her help up.
After get upright, Ali gingerly climbed off the ring apron and back down to the ringside floor, managing to slip a sly wink at Brock in the process. She had just used one of the oldest trick’s in the book to save her man, the damsel in distress, and she executed it perfectly.
His fiance’s well timed distraction had allowed Charlie a small amount of time to recover from the piledriver, and with both Newbludd’s and Nedrick’s backs turned to him, the clever rookie took advantage of the situation by crawling over to Brock…
LOW BLOW TO BROCK!
The forearm straight to the nether regions of Newbludd caused the former Blitzkrieg champion to double over in pain and Tal to spin around to only see the aftermath of it.
But Birkin wasn’t finished…
School Boy pin with a handful of tights! Nedrick doesn’t see it!
THR---No! Kickout by Brock!
Birkin had almost stolen the victory!
The close call caused Ali to jump in the air from the tension, causing Nedrick to frown at her as he realized that he might just have been played for a fool by the beautiful young woman. Shaking his head, Nedrick turned his attention back to the two combatants.
Getting back up to his feet first, Charlie once again dropped another quick knee to Brock’s shoulder and without any hesitation the youngster saw his chance at glory and took it…
By locking in the OOPS, GOT YOUR ARM!
A huge grin spread across Birkin’s face, he had the submission locked tight!
“Break it up, Charlie! Break the hold!” Tal commanded the young man, effectively raining on his parade.
While Birkin had indeed looked every bit the part of a veteran ring technician by deftly applying his deadly submission, he also made himself look like a green as grass rookie at the same time. He never considered the fact that they were still relatively close to the ropes, while the veteran Newbludd did and before Birkin could do any major damage Brock placed a foot on the bottom rope.
One rookie mistake was followed by another as a frustrated Birkin instantly broke the hold, not even bothering to milk the 4.9 seconds he had to wrench on Brock’s shoulder before he absolutely had to let go.
Still, Birkin had control of the match and intended to keep it that way as he pulled Brock up to his feet and set him up for an irish whip into the corner.
Reversed by Newbludd!
Shifting his weight and grabbing onto Charlie’s arm at the same time, Brock effectively countered Mr. Manx to send him into the turnbuckles and rushed in right behind Birkin to send him flying out of it with the timeless maneuver, the monkey flip!
Embarrassed by being sent head over heels in such a ridiculous fashion, Birkin leaped up to his feet and charged back towards Newbludd only to be sent back down to the mat via a beautiful standing dropkick from Brock!
Shaking off the dropkick, Charlie hopped up and rushed in again!
Basement dropkick from Brock!
Backing himself into the corner, Brock locked eyes with Ali and returned her wink from earlier before pushing himself up to the top rope...
Having his legs taken out from under him, Birkin smacked face first into the mat. But still, the stubborn kid slowly rose back up ready to charge back in for a third time, though he only was able to lift a foot before Newbludd came soaring in from above…
Smashing Charlie down into the center of the ring and using the momentum to roll through the landing, sprinted to the opposite corner. Hopping up, Brock stood up and signaled to the crowd…
Ali had jumped up to the apron again, this time to grab Newbludd by the foot! Newbludd had no issues with kicking her away from him, so he immediately did so. But, Carr caught herself with the top rope and then resorted to pleading with Brock.
For the third time in the match Carr had intervened on her fiance’s behalf, but this time she did away with any subtlety. Now Tal was done with her games and promptly ordered her off the ring apron or else her actions would get her man disqualified.
Ali tried to argue with Nedrick, in an obvious ploy to buy Birkin some more time, but quickly hopped off when the referee began to raise his hand to signal the disqualification. Shouting a final warning to her, Tal decided to let the match continue and Ali batted her long lashes at him in thanks.
Cursing to himself in regards to all the nonsense with Carr, Brock rose up again to hit his top rope finisher and suddenly found himself staring nose to nose with Charlie! Once again Ali had bought him enough time to recover!
Socking Brock in the stomach, Charlie hooked his arm around Brock’s neck…
REVERSED INTO A CROSSBODY PIN!
In mid flight Brock maneuvered himself to land right on top of Charlie!
Kickout by Birkin!
Immediately Newbludd sat up and looked daggers towards Ali, who was jumping up and down in joy at Charlie’s kickout. While the kickout was impressive, if Brock’s original plan on the top rope would have not been interrupted it would have been lights out for Mr. Manx.
Suddenly Ali stopped her celebration when she noticed Newbludd now smiling wide as he looked at her.
Then she realized he wasn’t looking at her...Newbludd was looking behind her. She then also became aware of the loud cheering coming from the crowd.
Slowly turning around, Ali’s face went white when she saw red.
More specifically, the red hair of one very pissed off Sally Renolds stomping down the ramp towards her!
No doubt, the NBW EMT had been watching her boyfriend Brock's match in the back, and after watching Ali's escalating antics, she decided to take matters into her own hands.
Halfway down the ramp she pointed a knowing finger at Ali that made Charlie's bride to be instantly throw her hands up defensively and start to backpedal. Hoping to get herself out of trouble like she had successfully done with the referee so far, Carr tried her damndest to look as innocent and sweet as she could possibly be as Renolds came closer, but it was obvious that Sally wasn’t buying it.
Meanwhile in the ring, both men were back on their feet and Charlie was sent into the ropes via an irish whip from Newbludd. Hitting the ropes, Birkin caught sight of the scene unfolding at ringside and took his head away from the waiting Brock to briefly focus his attention to the two women.
Birkin’s lapse in concentration cost him, for as soon as he snapped his head forward he was planted into the ground by a big time ROTATING SPINEBUSTER from Newbludd!
On the outside of the ring, the still backpedaling Ali maneuvered around the outside of the ring and was now panicking as a fist clenched Sally got within feet of her.
Left with no other option, and not wanting to get into a scrap with Renolds, Sally did the only thing she could do.
Showing impressive quickness with her feet, Ali slid underneath the bottom rope of the ring and sprinted across it, to the surprise of Brock who she nearly ran into, before sliding out the opposite side to run up the ramp! Reaching the top of the stage, Carr stopped momentarily to throw another hissy fit before disappearing through the double doors.
Satisfied with her work, Sally imitated Carr by dramatically blowing a kiss to Brock, who rolled his eyes in return.
Thanks to his girlfriend, the pesky Carr was eliminated from the equation and Brock wasted no time in finishing his lesson with Charlie.
Speaking of Birkin, he had managed to roll over onto his stomach just in time to see Ali disappear through the sliding double doors, causing him to be immediately taken over by rage.
Slamming a fist into the ground, the fired up Birkin willed himself up to his feet and came at the just turning around Brock.
Clothesline-Ducked by Newbludd!
Barely missing his target by a few inches, Birkin slammed on the brakes and spun around to lash out with a wild Discus Punch!
Ducked by Newbludd!
Missing again and spinning, the youngster kept his momentum going and shot his arm out for a desperation spinning backhand!
Ducked by Newbludd!
Avoiding the third attempted strike, Brock stayed low to let Birkin finish his rotation before sending a fist into his gut and lifting Charlie up…
BLACK HAWK DOWN!
Newbludd’s variation of the Steiner Screwdriver drilled Charlie’s head into the mat and got the crowd into a frenzy as they anticipated the cover to end the match.
But, Brock wasn’t done quite yet, he wanted redemption for one of the moment’s that Carr had ruined earlier.
With Birkin sprawled out on the canvas, Newbludd went to the corner and climbed up.
Signaling the crowd exactly like he did earlier in the match to receive the same approving roar in return, Brock leapt off...
SKY TWISTER PRESS!
The crowd went wild as Brock executed his rarely used Corkscrew Moonsault Splash perfectly onto Birkin to land back first on top of him, but instead of hooking one of Charlie's legs, Brock rose up to his feet.
Apparently Brock had one more 'teaching moment' for Mr. Manx as he grabbed one of Charlie's arms and yanked him up to his feet before spinning Birkin around to lock him into a full nelson...
MOTHER OF ALL SUPLEXES!
Arching his back for a perfect bridge, Newbludd had his hands still locked around Birkin's neck to complete the pin, causing Nedrick to hit the mat and the crowd counted along with his hand slapping the mat…
DING! DING! DING!
“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this contest by way of pinfall… ‘The Innovator’ Broooock Neeewbluuuudd!” Brent announced to the applauding crowd as he stood up from his usual ringside seat next to the timekeeper.
Williams then moved to sit back down, when suddenly he heard his name being called.
“Brent, gimme that damn mic!”
It was Newbludd, who was leaning over the top rope and motioning for Williams to toss him the microphone. Meanwhile, behind Brock, Tal was helping a woozy Birkin make his way out of the ring.
Shrugging his shoulders, Williams obliged and under hand tossed the microphone to Brock, who snatched it out of the air with one hand and walked to the center of the ring.
“JONES!” Newbludd yelled out as he gazed up to the stage. “Benjamin Jones!”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Brock spread one arm wide as he raised the mic back up with the other.
“I know you’re here, Jones! I saw some of those mouth breathers that are in Club KO wandering around in the back and I know they don’t stray too far from their meal ticket, so get your ass out here!”
Pacing around the ring, Brock made sure to glance behind him to make sure Jones wasn’t trying to repeat a sneak attack from Slam 91. Seconds passed, and the crowd began to boo as it appeared more and more likely that The Bounty Hunter wasn’t going to show his face.
“C’mon Jones!” an angry Brock beckoned. “I know you want my title shot! Well, it’s right here! I’m right here! Come down here and try to take it from me!”
Lowering the mic, Newbludd stood and waited, and still nothing.
“You goddamn coward, come out here! Face me like the man you think you are!” Newbludd yelled in frustration before taking a deep breath to calm himself.
“You call yourself ‘The Bounty Hunter?” a calmer Brock asked with a smirk. “You’re not a hunter, I am…and now I’m coming to get YOU!”
With that Newbludd threw the mic to the mat, rolled underneath the bottom rope and started to make his way up the ramp.
Even though Newbludd had just captured a victory against the impressive looking rookie Charlie Birkin, his work wasn’t done.
Brock cherished his one chance he had at wrestling immortality, and he made it clear that he would stand up to any man who tried to take it from him. His victory at 25 to Life had caught the attention of one of NBW’s alpha predators, but it was obvious from the determined look in his eyes that he was not wavered by the fact that this particular predator after him was one of the most dangerous men to ever grace a NBW ring.
But Brock had to fight to keep what was his, and now he intended to make ‘The Bounty Hunter’ his own personal bounty, he would turn this hunter into the hunted.
The Hunt Begins
After the break, the camera faded in to show a determined Brock Newbludd walking with a quickened pace down the middle of the main corridor that was directly underneath the amphitheater. Having just finished his match with Charlie Birkin only moments ago, the sweat covered Newbludd was still in his ring gear and was headed for the main dressing room to no doubt get showered and changed.
Though from the way Brock’s eyes were darting back and forth, making sure to catch a glimpse of every person who passed him in the hallway, it was clear that he was already on the hunt for Benjamin Jones.
Brock kept his motivated pace until suddenly something caught his eye and he stopped in his tracks to stare at the door that was now immediately on his right.
The men’s restroom.
Narrowing his eyes, Brock pushed the door open with force, causing the backside of the door to make a loud smack against the wall.
“JONES!” Newbludd yelled as he walked in with his fists at the ready, and the door shut behind him before the camera could follow him inside.
A second later the sound of a stall door being kicked open was heard.
“SHIT, SORRY DAVY!” Brock yelled out in shock. “Why did you put your feet up when I came in here!?”
“Oh, bon ami!” a relieved Davy LaRue said back. “Ya scared ol’ Davey when ya kicked in da door like dat! I was tinkin’ you were me new pal, Jonny Bedlam comin’ ta make me do anudder shot!”
“Oh, no...wait, what?” Brock asked incredulously. “Don’t you have the night off? Why wouldn’t you want some shots?”
“I do! Dis gator ain’t ever turned down a good time!” the Cajun emphatically answered. “But dat Bedlam is couillon (Cajun for crazy) Brock! Even though he a Texan, he sure don’t act like one o’ dem stiffshirted fools. Dat boy can party like a coonass even though he ain’t one, and I thought I could come in here and take a lil’ breather, ya know?”
“Davey LaRue take a breather from partyin’!?” Brock laughed. “Shit, that’ll be the day!”
“Even de best need to occasionally reflect and take a shit, bon ami.” Davey retorted.
“Wise words Davey,” Brock agreed. “Anyway, speaking of shit, I’m looking for a piece of one, Benjamin Jones. You seen him?”
“No, he’s in de dressing room...sumbitch went in der during your match.” LaRue said.
“Motherfucker…” Brock said in a hushed tone to himself. “Davey...I’m going after him, so finish your dump quick and head over there.” Brock said. “If he’s there with his Club KO guys, I might need some backup. You down?”
“Oh ya, and if we get in a scrap…”LaRue said as he grunted, “I’ll be light on my feet!”
“They won’t know what hit em.” Newbludd jokingly agreed, and then the stall door could be heard closing again.
Not a second later, Brock walked back out of the restroom with the same focused look on his face and instantly headed for the dressing room.
Walking only a few feet, the 25 to Life winner stopped once again to look at another door. The last one before the dressing room’s.
The women’s restroom.
Looking back to the men’s room where he just had an awkward, yet surprisingly casual, conversation with his best friend, Newbludd decided to leave this stone unturned.
“With my luck that Lucretia chick is probably in there birthing a demon or something…” Brock muttered to himself. “I think I’ll take a pass…”
Walking only a few more feet to the dressing room door, Brock stopped and rolled his neck as he took a deep breath.
Unwinding a length of some of the black athletic tape that his wrists and hands were wrapped in, Newbludd then bit down and broke the length off before grabbing both ends to pull it tight. Satisfied with the makeshift garrote, a weapon he was known to use in Blitzkrieg matches from time to time, Brock glanced back to the men’s room.
No Davey yet.
“Fuck it.” Newbludd said to himself before narrowing his eyes and kicking the door in.
Newbludd had his garrote in between his white knuckled fists and stared menacingly about, surveying the room, only to see Jonny Bedlam luxuriating on a large leather couch. Jonny stared at Newbludd, with a smirk. Jonny jovially put a silver flask he’d been holding up to the side of his mouth like Bugs Bunny would with his famous carrot.
“Myaaaaah….What’s Up Brock?”
Newbludd’s serious expression slackened a bit and he let his arms fall to let the garrote hang limp. “Dammit, Jonny, I was ready to strangle someone.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you. I like a little breathplay from time to time. Just make sure you pull my hair too.”
Newbludd chuckled and stared at the ground, defeated.
“Were you looking for that Jones character?” Jonny inquired wistfully.
“You got it," Newbludd replied.
“Yeah I wouldn’t mind choking him either. You seen ol’ Davey? He and I were getting up to some mischief with this contraband ethanol we got here. I think we actually be beheaded for consuming it, makes the drunk so much better. Haha. In fact, I thought you might be state police comin to get me,” said Jonny, while putting hands up slightly as if in surrender.
“Yeah, Davey’s uhh...in his ‘office.’ Hopefully completing some paperwork at this point.” Brock stared through the now kicked-in door at the bathroom door then back at Jonny.
“You got it.” Bedlam answered nonchalantly.
“I like your style, Bedlam.” the former Blitzkrieg champion and no stranger to a good bender answered.
“Less do dis Brock! Time for dis gator ta eat!” yelled LaRue as he appeared beside Newbludd with his fists raised, only to quickly drop them at the sight of Jonny sitting on the couch.
“Well shit, we musta missed em!” the Cajun said as he put his hands on his hips.
“Must’ve just missed him?” Bedlam asked with a smirk. “Davey, you’ve been in the shitter for forty-five minutes! And Jones hasn’t been in here all night!”
Confused, LaRue scratched his head.
“Oh...maybe dat was last show I saw him in de locker room?” Davey asked himself before looking to Brock.
“I’m sorry Brock...dis ethanol dat Jonny has really messes with my melon.” Davey said apologetically before chuckling. “I tink I just pulled a Max Hopper and did some time travellin’!”
Rolling his eyes at his friend, Brock gave him a forgiving slap on the back.
“It’s alright buddy, one way or another, I’m gonna find him.” Newbludd said before looking behind him through the open door.
“I’m gonna go see if Sally has seen him.” Brock said before glancing at Bedlam. “Save some of that shit for me, I’ll catch up with you two later.”
“You got it, boss!” Bedlam replied with a smile as he raised his silver flask up to Brock.
“Good luck, bon ami!” Davey said as he walked over to take the flask out of Bedlam’s hand and take a healthy swig.
Leaving the dressing room, Newbludd hung a left and then took another left to disappear around a corner to head towards the medical room.
As soon as Newbludd was out of sight, the door to the women’s room opened up slowly and none other than Dina St. James. stepped out into the hallway and looked towards the direction Newbludd was heading.
Smiling, Benjamin Jones notoriously devious wife and business manager reached into her pocket to pull out her cell phone.
“He just left the locker room...no...hold off for now, I think he’s going to see his woman in the trainer’s room….yes, I understand, but just be patient, I’ll let you know when the time is right.”
Putting her phone away, James turned on one heel and headed in the opposite direction of Brock. Staying on James for a few seconds, the camera then faded to black.
Big Talk from a Weather Balloon
The scene switched elsewhere backstage with a certain Blitzkrieg champion and a certain manager of that certain Blitzkrieg champion talking no doubt about another certain champion who had a certain bounty put on his head for his championship.
That was lot of certainty.
“That NBW World belt’s as good as mine after tonight, Hot Sauce, and you and I both know it,” said Tockwell confidently.
“Yeah, champ! After who we got lined up tonight …”
“Hot Sauce” Raul Ramirez and “Big Talk” Jake Tockwell were both confronted by the young and lovely new interviewer, Veronica Hoyt who was no doubt on the hunt for her first big story.
“Hi!” yelled Veronica. “I’m here for a story! Who’s your opponent for Warren Spade tonight? Tell me and I promise I won’t tell a soul!”
Big Talk and Hot Sauce weren’t entirely sure what to make of the new interviewer and younger sister of Adria Hoyt cutting into their private conversation. Just like she wasn’t sure how to conduct a proper interview quite yet on account of her total lack of experience.
“Little girl, you need to leave! Now!” Big Talk shouted. “You need to go ---”
That’s when Big Talk put up his hand to stifle his manager. Given Veronica was a member of the opposite sex, Big Talk knew exactly what to do.
“I know you, pretty lady,” said Big Talk. “Veronica, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me! Newest backstage interviewer for NBW.”
“That’s right.” said Tockwell with his debonair smile. “I’ve got a news story for you in my dressing room, honey … but I have a request for you.”
Veronica looked at him with a quizzical expression. “What’s that?”
Tockwell took his Blitzkrieg title and showed it off.
“If you want to interview a champion you gotta do it right! You can come back to my dressing room and then I’ll give you a real mic that you can speak into if you catch my drift!”
Veronica looked at him with confusion.
“Umm … well I already have a microphone but I guess we can do it your way.”
“Oh honey they always do it Big Talk’s way!”
Before what was no doubt going to be a different kind of interview from what Veronica thought happened in interviews Tockwell was interrupted by the light turning into an alien green. An indistinguishable humanoid figure appeared in a dense fog, marching its way ever closer. The humanoid figure finally stepped out of the fog and spoke…
It was none other than NBW’s resident paranormal investigator extraordinaire, Max Hopper! “The Space Pimp” glided out of the fog, closely studying Big Talk and Hot Sauce. He was seemingly uninterested in Veronica Hoyt, the new interviewer for NBW, which one might have pointed out was quite curious in itself, as he had never encountered her before. This was, of course, were it not for the simple fact that the everyone was more focused on the impending encounter between the respective Keystone and Blitzkrieg champions.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Max Hopper assured them, “this is just a routine check for ghosts, ghouls, aliens, sasquatches, yetis, abominable snowmen, giant heads from Easter Island, mermaids, sirens, bedknobs, broomsticks, lions, witches, wardrobes, psychic phenomenon, the Loch Ness Monster, haunted grilled cheese sandwiches, Elvis, free-floating orbs of light, Hillary Clinton’s emails, Donald Trump’s brain, and trans-dimensional beings.” The paranormal investigator proceeded with his inspection, rifling through the pockets of Hot Sauce’s coat.
“Hey!” shouted Raul, pushing himself away from NBW’s resident Space Pimp. “First rule, Hopper: only ladies of the nine or higher variety are allowed to touch Hot Sauce! I won’t hate if people want to look, but no touching!”
Tockwell focused his attention on a fellow holder of an NBW title and growled at Hopper.
“Look Jag-Luc Picard, this is Big Talk’s invitation to Veronica for a No-Pants party and there ain’t no sign on the door saying you’re invited. Now fly your ass back to Uranus and beat it before I beat you … and maybe set my sights on that pretty little Keystone you got there, pal.”
“You know, I can tell a U.F.O. when I see one, but in this case it’s just the light from Venus reflecting off the swamp gas coming out of your mouth!” Max Hopper shot back. “You want to get in the ring with me? Fine, I’ll prove that I’m no weather balloon. But first why don’t you tell me who this mystery opponent for the Champion of the Earth Planet is tonight?”
“You … you what?” asked Tockwell.
“He wants to know who the mystery opponent is for Warren Spade tonight,” said Raul.
“Isn’t that what I just said?” Max Hopper asked, sounding decidedly like Mr. Spock or Mr. Data.
Tockwell looked at Max Hopper with a confused face - that was probably something the Space Pimp was accustomed to.
“And just why in the living, breathing walking talking hell would I ever divulge that information to any of you jags, let alone you, Captain jag of the starship Jag-a-prize?!”
Now it was Hopper’s turn to be confused. “I don’t work for the Judge Advocate General,” he said, scratching his head, “although it might be a good career move for me.”
The paranormal investigator shook the thought out of his mindbrain. “Now look, like I said, this is just routine. I’ve got to make sure you aren’t bringing in anything that’s going to threaten the fabric of the FaceTime continuum! Reality itself! No warlocks, clones of Kim Kardashian, goblins, leprechauns, ghost pirates, alien ninjas, and DEFINITELY not that thing from the Upside Down in Stranger Things! Nothing paranormal, you got it?”
By this point the Blitzkrieg champion had it up to his blond locks with Max Hopper’s particular vernacular. That was made clear by a throbbing vein in his forehead.
“All right that’s it! Big Talk don’t know what the hell you just said, but the one thing that you don’t do is tell Big Talk what he can and can’t do. I run with the In Crowd, not the Rich Family and I ain’t a toothbrush for you to just come here and take a number one on. If you’re lost, Hopper, let me say it loud and say it proud for ya …”
Big Talk cleared his throat.
“I’m Jake Tockwell and what I say goes! Hopper, what I’m saying is this: if you want to keep sticking your X-Files-loving nose where it don’t belong, then here’s the truth and it ain’t that far out there - you got something else Big Talk wants and it’s that Keystone title!”
Max Hopper peered down at the Keystone (Title) and then right back up into Tockwell’s eyes. “If you think for one nanosecond that I’m gonna let such an important artifact fall into the hands of a giant meteor hole like you, you’ve got another thing coming, Guy! I need the Keystone (Title) to protect the world from the Winds!
“But… “ Max continued, “I’ll gladly defend the Keystone (Title) against you and pop you like the weather balloon you are!”
Raul turned to Tockwell. “Did he just say you’re full of hot air or something?”
Tockwell scoffed. “It don’t matter what this zero has to say. Your belt’s gonna look good next to my Blitzkrieg championship and then when my mystery opponent takes down Warren Spade tonight, I’m gonna have all three of the biggest belts in this place! And you don’t need to be a space detective to know how cool that sounds! Right Veronica?”
He winked at Veronica who was still there for some reason trying to cover this “breaking” story. Big Talk and Hot Sauce walked away and left Hopper with Veronica as they prepared to set their sights on all the gold in NBW they could possibly have.
Max Hopper fiddled with something he had retrieved from Hot Sauce’s pocket… a wet nap. “The game is afoot! Catch you later, lady guy!”
With that, Max Hopper bolted off into the ether, leaving the befuddled Veronica Hoyt on her own.
“Can you believe this next one, Melissa? All the hoss fight!” C.G. Gains said. “Ohiyama and Spike Saunders to fight for the right to challenger for the nbW World Heavyweight Title in two weeks!”
“The stars have aligned and apparently it’s mass hysteria in the streets, Gains,” Melissa spoke. “But I agree with you. Both Spike Saunders AND Ohiyama had designs earlier in challenging for the title, but Jake Tockwell’s mystery opponent for the bounty has been locked in for tonight. If Warren Spade defeats that opponent tonight, then he’ll take on either his LONG-TIME rival, Spike Saunders or he’ll be taking on the former Blitzkrieg Champion, Ohiyama! No rest for the fighting giant and we don’t even know who is lined up to fight for the belt at Scorched II yet!”
“Bring it on! Two big dudes running into each other for my amusement. That, my friends, is good watching.”
“You don’t have any friends unless you pay for company, Gains. Let’s go to ringside for this very important match with heavy championship implications!”
The fans of Doha let out a thunderous roar when a graphic for #1 Contender’s Match appeared on the Tron.
“The following contest is a #1 Contender’s Match and the winner of this match will challenge for the nbW World Heavyweight Championship on Slam 93 in two weeks!”
That music meant it was time for the crowd to go insane! The most massive of the massive in nbW today stomped his way out from the back and soaked in the TREMENDOUS response he received from the crowd. He flashed his shades and stormed towards the ring. He had never fought Ohiyama before and had seen just about every hot rookie prospect, every veteran, every young star and everything in between make an appearance on his ground – he was the constant.
“From Beverly Hills, California, standing at seven foot three and three hundred thirty-seven pounds... he is the former nbW World Heavyweight Champion… “THE COLOSSUS” SPIKE SAUNDERS!”
The Man with The Plan And The Devastating Boom Headshot Right Hand made his way onto the apron, surveyed the busy Doha crowd and then stepped over the ropes before entering the ring. Spike took off his sunglasses and handed them to one of the ringside technicians before waiting for his opponent. He had been on the hunt this year for another shot at the nbW World Heavyweight Championship and if he wanted it, he’d have to go through a man that was undefeated in singles competition since his return at the end of last year.
The crowd now watched with anticipation at what was happening at ringside. The lights faded to black until a series of yellow and green spotlights shined at the entrance. The crowd continued to buzz for what was happening next until four men in yellow dress robes made their way out, pounding on tribal drums. The crowd was excited for the entrance and a silhouette appeared on the top of the ramp.
A BIG silhouette to be precise. The massive being proceeded to dance along with it in a fire dance tradition before he stopped and let out a war cry…
“EO NA TOA! EO NA TOA E!”
A HUGE explosion of red pyro went off behind him and the opening six-second mark of Ohiyama’s theme began to play.
“Voodoo Child” by Brick + Mortar.
“And his opponent… from Hilo, Hawaii… weighing in at 278 pounds… OHIYAMA!”
The 6’6” 278-pound Hawaiian garnered a loud, but mixed reaction from the crowd! The soft-spoken but double-tough and ultra-physical strong-style grappler marched towards the ring with a look of determination on his face. His personal issues with family had been weighing heavily on his mind traveling back and forth from Hawaii to nbW on tour, and there was the issue of Raul Ramirez trying to court Ohiyama.
Shockingly, he didn’t tell Raul to fuck off yet.
The former nbW Blitzkrieg Champion walked into the ring and stared Spike down before letting loose the shaka sign. Pillars of fire EXPLODED from all four turnbuckles, but Saunders remained focused on the task at hand. Ohiyama waited for the bell to ring and the man in the middle, referee Chuck Radford called for the bell.
DING DING DING!
OHIYAMA WITH THE SHOULDER TACKLE!
As much height as The Colossus had over his opponent, Ohiyama was a fairly big man himself at 6’6” and 280 so he smashed all of his body weight into the large frame of Saunders… who didn’t go down!
The blow stunned Saunders just enough so Ohiyama ran off the ropes to try for a second Running Shoulder Tackle…
Second verse, same as the first!
Saunders still teetered some, but the 7’3” monster remained vertical so Ohiyama ran off the ropes a third time…
And it was NOT a charm.
Ohiyama let out a roar and then ran off the ropes before coming back to try and launch an offensive at Saunders a fourth time…
Spike got his massive boot up and DROPPED Ohiyama big-time! The crowd was shocked because Ohiyama had not ever been met with this level of resistance right off the bat! And Spike was about to pin him with a shot at the nbW World Heavyweight Title on the line!
The Active Volcano kicked out, but with a rare shot at the biggest prize in nbW on the line and an opponent who was known for overwhelming his opponents with his aggression, Spike Saunders had to give Ohiyama everything he had in order to keep him down and face the winner of Warren Spade and his mystery opponent for tonight!
“Get up!” Saunders shouted.
He waited for Ohiyama to stand and when The Polynesian Powerhouse did so, Spike doubled him over with a vicious knee and then pummeled him down across his back with some vicious Clubbing Forearm shots! He then backed up Ohiyama into the corner by firing three more big Knee Strikes to his chest. He was doubled over and when he charged him by his arm and neck, he powered him up and straight-up TOSSED Ohiyama across the ring with a big Biel Throw!
The crowd was stunned. Ohiyama had met some resistance by a variety of opponents, sure, but NEVER had been completely manhandled by anybody. That being said, if there were anybody in No Brand Wrestling today that could do that to him it would of course be a man nicknamed the Motherfucking COLOSSUS.
Ohiyama rolled out to the outside and thought to himself how to approach him. As he walked to the outside, he noticed that there was “Hot Sauce” Raul Ramirez on the ramp, watching with the same manila folder that he left for Ohiyama two weeks ago after he defeated another former nbW World Champion in Ravage. He ignored Raul and then watched as Spike climbed over the ropes. He wasn’t keen on taking a count-out win tonight and wanted to hand Ohiyama his first singles loss since coming back to nbW in late 2016.
The Active Volcano slid back into the ring while Spike climbed out and waved for him to come back inside the ring. The Colossus was angry that he had been had this quickly, but stepped inside. The second he did…
THRUST KICK TO THE GUT!
He was doubled over with a vicious kick from The Active Volcano. Ohiyama then fired off a second wicked kick to the chest of Saunders as he was doubled over, shooting The Colossus upward and knocking him back into the ropes. With Saunders doubled backwards, Ohiyama reached his hand out…
FIVE brutal Knife-Edge Chops had stunned Saunders just enough and started to leave a red welt where Ohiyama had struck him. Even a monster like Spike had been devastated by some of the more brutal Knife-Edge Chops in the business. He tried to whip Saunders…
Even as much damage as Ohiyama had just doled out with the Chops, Saunders was still able to fight back and spun Ohiyama around to drop him with an improvised Short-Arm Clothesline. He followed that up by running off the ropes and landing a HARD Elbow Drop right to the chest of The Active Volcano! Spike stayed on top of the former Sweet Daddy K with a lateral press.
The Hawaiian Godzilla kicked out, but Spike remained focused on keeping the fight back to Ohiyama. As Ohiyama tried to stand again, Spike bounced off the ropes. Another vicious Clothesline was coming, but it was Ohiyama that ducked the shot. When Spike came back, he was met with a Double Cross Chop to the chest! Ohiyama stunned Spike and rammed him into the corner and when he got himself a running start, he CRACKED Spike in the chest with a Running Back Elbow in the corner.
Ohiyama ran cross-corner to get himself some extra momentum for his next attack when Spike stopped him cold with another Elbow Strike. The Active Volcano was out on his feet when Spike ran forward…
DROPKICK BY OHIYAMA!
The 278-pounder caught The Colossus right on the chest with a Dropkick and sent him packing towards the ropes. Ohiyama charged at him with all the speed he could muster and managed to POWER Saunders up and over to the floor with a powerful Running Lariat! Raul Ramirez looked very impressed with what he was seeing and clapped from the top of the entrance ramp.
“You got this, Big Oh! Take him out!” Raul shouted.
Ohiyama continued to watch as Spike tried to pick himself up off of the floor. Ohiyama saw Spike on the floor and decided that he would need a different approach in order to take out The Colossus when he charged off the ropes…
RUNNING NO-HANDS PLANCHA TO THE OUTSIDE!
That was one that Ohiyama had not really pulled out before, but when a shot at the nbW World Heavyweight Championship was on the line, you didn’t hold back. He CLEARED the top rope and landed on Spike Saunders out on the floor, which brought the crowd to their feet!
After a few moments of clearing out the cobwebs following the rough landing on top of The Colossus, The Active Volcano started to stand up. The crowd were cheering his name but he paid them no mind as he helped Saunders get back to his feet only to get him back into the ring after a little bit of effort. Ohiyama rolled forward and he went for the first cover of the match.
And a big kickout from Saunders at that!
Ohiyama reached over and he tried to pull Saunders back up so he could try for another big power move. He tried to set him up over the shoulder…
DAI FUNKA… NO!
The mighty Fireman’s Carry Backbreaker that he called the Dai Funka Death Drop failed because Spike was still too coherent and drove a few elbows down onto the back of Ohiyama. After blocking the dangerous move, he struck him with a Throat Thrust and then booted him twice. He stunned Ohiyama with another knee…
That was a big one from Saunders who dropped Ohiyama like a bad habit! After a truly MASSIVE kick, Spike Saunders ran off the ropes and he dropped a big Leg Drop! Given that he was no orange-skinned goblin, he kneeled over and The Colossus was looking to show the younger star what for on his way to possibly taking on Warren Spade.
Again, the defiant shoulder of Ohiyama came up off the mat again, but Spike wasn’t through trying to win this #1 Contender’s Match. He pulled Ohiyama up with two handfuls of hair and picked him up before launching him to the ropes. When he came back, he DROPPED Ohiyama with a Kitchen Sink Knee Lift right to the gut! Spike was wrestling a great match, using his size and strength he had over pretty much everybody in nbW to overwhelm the younger hopeful.
Spike went for a quick go-behind and tried to end things right then and there. He hoisted him up… was he gonna get Spiked?
Before he could get The Active Volcano up for the apex of the move, Ohiyama shifted his weight and elbowed him in the back of the head. He stunned him for a move and tried to elevate Spike…
RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX ON THE COLOSSUS!
The crowd was in SHOCK! Like stated previously, Ohiyama was a big boy, but Spike was a REALLY big boy! That being said, both competitors were down now as Ohiyama had taken a beating, but the VERY unexpected power move by Ohiyama had Spike down! The crowd were roaring in approval!”
The dueling chants were erupting (bad pun intended) for both #1 Contender hopefuls as they both struggled to get up to a vertical base. Ohiyama crawled towards the ropes to use them to get back to his feet while Spike Saunders was trying to get himself up on his knees.
“Go, Big Oh! Go, Big Oh! Go, Big Oh!”
Now Raul Ramirez was at the ring apron watching the match practically rooting for Ohiyama to pull off what some would consider an upset against one of the hash tag Top Guys of nbW. Saunders was up first followed by Ohiyama who was now in the corner. Spike saw him and he charged full speed ahead with intent to crush him with a Body Avalanche in the corner…
Ohiyama dodged it and kept on running across to the other corner. He charged in and BLASTED Saunders with running Corner Clothesline! The blow caught Saunders in the chest but it was enough to stun him so Ohiyama could keep on running off the ropes. He went cross-corner and charged again, connecting with a second Corner Clothesline! The second blow rattled Saunders and that gave Ohiyama a chance to whip him, but Saunders stopped that shit and reversed it, sending Ohiyama back into the corner.
Saunders tried again, but Ohiyama got both feet up and kicked him right in the chest. With the monster stunned, Ohiyama headed to the ring apron. He was going to go up top again, but Saunders saw it coming and grabbed Ohiyama by the head. Instead, Ohiyama caught him flush on the jaw with a Back Elbow then turned around and PLASTERED him with a Headbutt to the chest! Not quite his King Kong Smash, but it was enough to stun Saunders so that way he could go in and go up top…
Ohiyama took him down with an amazingly graceful simple but effective aerial move! He stayed on Saunders!
Ohiyama thought his mounting offense would have netted him the big win tonight, but instead it was Saunders spoiling his hopes of becoming the next challenger for the nbW World Heavyweight Championship. Ohiyama had him lined up on the mat now and pointed both fingers at Saunders…
“EO NA TOA E!”
He let loose his signature war cry and waited for Saunders to get back to his feet so he could land the move that had struck down every opponent that he had ever fought against yet. He went running towards him with the charging Running Knee Strike…
Right in the chest! He just leveled Saunders with one of his finishing maneuvers and the crowd was going nuts! We had a new #1 Contender! The camera caught sight of Raul Ramirez counting along with both the fans in the arena and the referee!
Both Ohiyama and the legions of nbW fans couldn’t believe it! Raul’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor after that! There was no way that Saunders had kicked out of The Wavebreaker because nobody had ever done so yet. It kept down fellow giants in Little Ricky Strongbern aka Saunders’ old rival Tremoid, but Saunders’ shoulder was up.
The Active Volcano tried to quickly shake off the frustration he was feeling internally as he waited for Saunders to stand a second time. He grabbed him by the wrist and tried to end things for him with his Wrist-Lock spin into an even stiffer Headbutt. He pulled Saunders around as he reached his feet…
KING KONG KN--BOOM! HEADSHOT!
Before Ohiyama could spin him around to land the stiff Headbutt to the chest, Spike balled up his fist and STRUCK Ohiyama right on the dome! The blow echoed throughout the arena accompanied by the groans of the fans followed by Spike goozling him…
Spike gave him the old one-two and there was no way Ohiyama was kicking out! Raul was frightened by Saunders about to win!
THRE…. KICKOUT! BARELY!
Spike protested with Chuck Radford. There was NO way that Ohiyama had just kicked out of one of his best moves, but that’s apparently and exactly what happened. There was no doubt that The Polynesian Powerhouse was hanging out on Dream Street and KTFO Drive just barely able to comprehend where he was with the kick out!
“Yeaaaahhhhh!” Raul yelled. “Show ‘em, Ohiyama!”
Some of the fans that had been fans of the sport of American professional wrestling started up a chant that was growing in popularity in the last several years.
“THIS IS AWESOME!” Clap-clap-clapclapclap
“THIS IS AWESOME!” Clap-clap-clapclapclap
“THIS IS AWESOME!” Clap-clap-clapclapclap
“THIS IS AWESOME!” Clap-clap-clapclapclap
“THIS IS AWESOME!” Clap-clap-clapclapclap
Spike right then and there wasn’t concerned with what the fans thought about the match by sheer virtue of needing to end this match as quickly as he could. Against a younger opponent, the longer match may have gone in his favor, but Spike was no stranger to epic long matches such as his legendary battle with J. Leslie Voss.
The Colossus turned his attention back to Ohiyama and kicked him low in the gut. He set him up and was thinking a Powerbomb or a Piledriver – either of which would spell curtains for the Big Oh. He hoisted him, but suddenly Ohiyama surged to life and spun his way out of the power move attempt. He then came back with one of his own…
KING KONG SMASH!!
The Wrist-Clutch into the STIFF Headbutt finally connected! Spike was drilled right in the chest and was STILL on his feet, but Ohiyama charged off the ropes and landed a hard Chop Block to the leg! Saunders went down again and now Ohiyama didn’t waste time…
Number two of the match connected right to the chest of the kneeling Saunders! He was down and out, but he knew it STILL may not have been enough. He didn’t waste time pointing to the crowd. He was heading up top…
After a roar, Ohiyama took flight one more time…
THE VOLCANIC ERUPTION!
Ohiyama landed the Diving Splash and the crowd counted along as he hooked the leg, hoping it would finally be enough to stop him.
AND IT WAS! OHIYAMA HAD JUST SCORED THE BIGGEST WIN OF HIS CAREER, DEFEATING SPIKE SAUNDERS!
“HERE IS YOUR WINNER OF THE MATCH AND CHALLENGING FOR THE NBW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP ON SLAM 93… OHIYAMA!”
The Hawaiian Godzilla was no doubt given the toughest fight of his career against Spike Saunders. He’d battled other former World Champions such as Torment long ago over the Blitzkrieg Title and just recently against Ravage, but this victory was no doubt his most important one so far. Ohiyama let out a roar and pointed to the heavens again, incredibly elated with this victory where he had to throw everything and two kitchen sinks to put The Colossus down for the three-count.
“That’s my guy! My guy! That’s my guy!” Raul Ramirez shouted.
Ohiyama punched the mat out of sheer emotion and let out another roar before he walked over to help Spike Saunders back to his feet after this incredibly physical fight between two of the toughest men in nbW today. He tried to help Saunders, but The Colossus shook his head in the negative. He slowly and surely used the nearby ropes to try and get back to his feet, still feeling the effects of two Wavebreakers, a King Kong Smash, and the Volcanic Eruption that had been his bread and butter in the last two shows.
Spike extended his hand to Ohiyama. Clearly, the look on his face said he was less than thrilled with the fact that he had just got beat in an important match, but Spike was a consummate professional first and foremost.
“Good match.” Spike said.
Ohiyama was about to take it without hesitation, but…
“Let’s go, Ohiyama! You win, let’s get out of here!” Raul shouted. “You shake his hand and this is off the table!”
Ohiyama looked at Spike and then back to Raul. Whatever it was that Raul Ramirez had on him… this information had to have been something good… or something bad, if it had to do with ANY member of The In Crowd.
“Let’s go! NOW!”
The Active Volcano shot a look at Raul Ramirez and then back at Spike.
“Sorry, hoaloah,” Ohiyama said with a hint of regret.
Spike shot an angry look at Raul Ramirez, not forgetting the part he played in repeatedly interfering in his Blitzkrieg Title match against Tockwell back at 25 To Life. Spike watched the two leave and the crowd booed Ohiyama and “Hot Sauce” Raul Ramirez as they made their exit. Whatever this thing The In Crowd was trying to get Ohiyama to do had to be something big if it was making him compromise his in-ring ethics.
With a belt around his waist, you'd expect El Principe to be happier. However, his hands-on-hips stance suggests something was up and I suspect it may have something to do with him being the opposite of Hank Wright last night.
He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Okay, get over it. Wait, what's that?
His fellow tag team titleholder, Victor Ingram Price, is partner Alex Reyn for a rendezvous with The Entertainers later on?
"We have gone over and over this: What don't you understand?"
Principe shook his head. It would seem while he is monolingual, his grasp of English wasn't bad, a point this author can relate to. Well, I do teach it after all
"Okay, he beat you up, but that's exactly why I'm doing this. Plus, you hate The Entertainers. We kill two birds with one stone."
Inside, El Principe must've been thinking: "To save your own ass, you mean?" Unfortunately, he couldn't articulate it in our mother tongue.
"Alex Reyn is a wild animal. He cannot be tamed or controlled. He's feral."
Principe looked puzzled: "Will?"
That took Vic aback, but then it dawned on him what Principe thought he said and he let out a laugh: "No, though I've met him a few times. Funny guy. Anyway, think of Alex Reyn is our falcon - he's a free bird, totally wild, but ultimately...
"He'll do OUR hunting for us."
The scene faded out only to open up backstage once more where we find ourselves following along the terror duo right hand women of one Michelle Couli, the Hellion Sisters. Two packed shopping bags in each hand, the pair walked the corridors.
“-next time Ima pull dose lockes of hers clear awf!”
The shorter of the two, Circe, told her taller colleague as they walked the corridor.
“Yeah.” Was her response.
“Tha was a cheap victory. Iz bad enough dat we have to fight dos bitches widout tv. But to lose to dem skata chicka and cowgirl, hell nah.”
“Yeah,” Melantha responded, short but sweet.. Nope just short as she listened to Circe’s rants about losing a darkmatch to a duo of women from the PULSE developmental.
“Michelle won’t be happy. Thankfully these bags of goodies will sprucen her mood.” They came to a stop at a closed door, Circe’s hand going for the knob and turning it.
To push it open.
Much to their shock it wasn’t Michelle Couli in the room to greet them.
Zhalia Fears sat sideways on a chair with her feet hanging over the armrest, giving the two a wave.
“Get that bitch!” Circe shouted while dropping her bags.
“Eeep!” Fears spun around to get out of the chair but immediately Circe was there tackling her into the chair and knocking it over. She then decked her hard with her forearm before Melantha joined her and shot her boot forward to strike her neck, pinning her up against the wall. Feet dangling.
Circe let fly with her frustrations, pummeling into Zhalia’s chest and stomach. Much needed stress relief after the embarrassing loss.
“Ugh… Pa-” Zhalia tried to talk but the boot across her windpipe was making that quite difficult. “Parl-uhh.”
“God damnit, what the hell is all that racket?” Couli walked into the room, towel wrapped around her waist and another for her hair. Spotting her two cohorts standing close to the wall. “Are you two arguing again?” She walked across the room towards them.
“Parleeeee-” squeaked out Fears as Couli got a better perspective and saw Zhalia hanging up against the wall.
“Melantha, drop her.” To which, she pulled back and let Fears drop to her knees clutching at her neck and breathing in air. She sighed, “as much as I hate this, we’ve put our own issues aside for the moment and come to a truce. That truce, Circe,” she turned towards the smaller woman in the room, “extends to you both.”
“WHAT?” Circe pulled back and looked down at Fears, one may have made out a grin there for a moment. Circe sure did and struck her with a knee to the side of her head.
“CIRCE!” She got yanked backward by Michelle, “-Enough. Both of you, out.”
Melantha caught the wrist of Circe and pulled her out with her, as reluctant as she was. Circe slammed the door shut as she was dragged out. Couli then looked down at the recovering woman.
“Enjoy it while it lasts. Once we’re done,” she pointed down at her, “you’re done.”
“Noted.” Zhalia coughed out while standing back up. Clearing her throat she tipped the chair back over and took a seat staring forward at the near naked woman. “Now, you sent me a message to come in here to talk about Lucretia. You know who she is?”
“And then I’m going back to being a Goddess at the side of my Paragon. And yes I did, for in half an hour, outside Harmen’s office.” She looked at her, “not in my room when I’m in the shower. ”
“I was bored.” She kicked her feet back over the armrest, and craned her neck on the chair still feeling it. “That towel works for you.” She grinned and laughed.
“Whatever,” Couli spat, “And yes, she made it quite clear. And no I’m not telling you or those two. We, as in you and I, are going to demand Lucretia in the ring. What happens after that-”
“Do tell.” spoke a voice from behind her. She knew immediately who it was.
Couli turned back towards the doorway, but far too slow as two of those circular objects were flying towards her courtesy of Lucretia. Fears however was quick to her feet, leaping from her chair and tackling Michelle out of the path. Those objects exploding in air into sparks and flame. Igniting the carpet and furniture around them.
Zhalia grabbed the first thing she could and started flinging it into the flames to smother them out. Thanks to those homemade concoctions, it didn’t last long.
Flames out, Fears tossed the cloth aside and collapsed in exhaustion against the wall: “Damn, that was close ‘Chell.” She turned towards her, and as much as she tried to hold it in she couldn’t help but giggle.
Arms crossed across her now bare chest and thighs, a very beet red Couli shouted: “GET OUT!” She shook her head trying to loosen the towel wrapped around her hair.
Fears shrugged and walked towards the exit, “sheesh, you try and help someone out and this is the treatment you get.” She walked out into the hallway, “we will talk later then ‘Chell. But hey, looking good.” She smirked and held up two thumbs towards her before getting blasted with a towel tossed into her face.
Muffled by it, she spoke: “In three, two, one…”
“Okay,” Zhalia walked down the corridor and up to official Simon Brack. “Hey Simon, Michelle needs some help back there. Would you be a dear?” He hurried down the corridor, used to being called to action. Fears continued on, whistling one of her favorite songs from childhood as she was on the hunt for Lucretia. Turning the corner just as a loud screech and scream of GET OUT filled the air and everything faded.
“Clan Strongbern have been on the warpath in recent weeks,” Melissa said. “They’ve got two matches tonight against men they’ve been targeting so let’s see how they do now that the odds are a little more even.”
“Amore’s a former World Champion and Keystone Champion,” C.G. Gains said. “But Clan Strongbern have proven they don’t care what fancy titles you’ve held or what you call yourselves. You heard Big Rick a couple weeks ago; he’s here to make noise and get attention. Going after people like The Unstoppables and Ali Amore? That’s all the attention you need!”
“But Ali and The Unstoppables aren’t just going to roll over and let somebody make their name off their expense.”
“We’ll see about that, Melissa! I think Clan Strongbern are gonna mop the floor with Amore, then they’ll do the same to The Unstoppables tonight!”
And to Brent Williams we go for the announcements.
“The following contest is a singles match set for one fall!” Brent Williams shouted.
“That’s Amore” by Dean Martin.
The music played and out came not only one of nbW’s most decorated and talented workhorses, but a man who wasn’t going to give an inch to anybody no matter of size, strength or star power. Ali adjusted his bandaged arm and headed towards the ring with intent to get some payback for being put through a table backstage by Little Ricky two weeks ago.
“Introducing first, from Bogota, Colombia… weighing in at 212 pounds… the former nbW World Heavyweight and Keystone Champion… ALI AMORE!”
Ali “Don’t Call Me Enzo” Amore climbed up the ropes and then leaped over the top rope to get inside the ring. He then leaped to the second turnbuckle to soak in the adulation of the Doha crowd before he waited for his opponent.
“Let’s Kill These Motherfuckers” by Lair of the Minotaur.
The theme came with a thundering boom as the lights in the arena went pitch-black. Suddenly, a HUGE spotlight shone on the stage and one by one, the monsters came out.
“Little” Ricky Strongbern, the near-seven footer.
The monstrous powerhouse Rik Bonebreaker-Strongbern.
The wild attack dog, Ri-Khan Strongbern, who grabbed the camera and let loose a loud growl!
And of course…
“Big” Rick Strongbern who stood 5’8”, 228, but was twelve feet tall in his own mind.
“Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Big Rick Strongbern, Ri-Khan Strongbern, and Rik Bonebreaker-Strongbern… weighing in at 299 pounds… LITTLE RICKY STRONGBERN!”
Little Ricky looked at Ali Amore and this would certainly be the biggest victory of the former Tremoid’s career if he could beat a decorated star like Amore tonight. He entered the ring by stepping over the ropes and looked out to the disdainful crowd that hated Clan Strongbern. Ricky looked down at Ali and was completely focused as the bell rang.
DING DING DING!
“DON’T YOU DARE FUCK THIS UP!” Big Rick shouted.
Ali and Little Ricky started circling each other, cautiously clutching at straws, reaching and grabbing hands. From the outside, Rik Bonebreaker-Strongbern (I wonder if it says that on his birth certificate) simly reached in and touched Ali's left leg to, for lack of a better term, fuck with the former Keystone kingpin's head.
Unfortunately for him, Rich had left his hand on the apron and Ali gave him a receipt - and our audience a giggle - by stamping on said hand, leading the Clan to complain.
The official wasn't having any of it and he had to get with the program when Little Ricky took advantage of the distraction with a big-time left that instantly sent Amore to the corner. Perhaps it did cost Ali after all.
While in the corner, Ricky continued the beatdown, pummelling Amore until the Colombian was on both knees, breathing heavily, AHEM, and suffering the effects of an early onslaught by the tallest and least-appropriately named cog in the Strongbern machine.
His stablemates appreciated Ricky's handwork and implored the skyscraper to stick to what had brought him to the dance, capitalising on his significant size advantage at the expense of AA.
Upon dragging Amore up slowly, the Californian kept the Colombian in the corner with a HARD CHOP. A second one, apparently for good measure, forced Amore, holding his chest, out of the corner and seeking separation.
However, the Artist formerly known as Tremoid was hot on the quick heels of Ali, who tried to cut Ricky off with a kick to the abdomen as LR zoned in. Instead, it was batted away by a third Knife-Edge.
Irish Whip to the opposite corner turned Amore inside out and drew respectful applause, headed by Big Rick, from the other three-quarters of the Clan. The Unwilling Pawn was doing a great number on his illustrious opponent here in the early going.
Not that he was done...
Snake Eyes to the South American.
Rather than go for a cover, Ricky picked Ali up again and repeated knee strikes rattled Amore's rib-cage, threatening to induce the contents of the Colombian's breakfast that morning.
The referee got to the count of four and the ex-Tremoid was asked to break, which he did, enabling the Strongbern Clan to attack Amore from all sides, wailing away with ravage lefts and rights. Ali struggled to cover up, hopelessly unable to defend himself in this 3-on-1 mugging.
They all scattered the second the official turned around and applauded, encouraging Little Ricky to build on his canny handiwork, which he did with a couple of kicks to stabilise his significant lead.
A Scoop Slam cemented that further. Nevertheless, he then went and threw it away by missing a Jumping Elbow Drop!
Big Rick cursed LR under his breath and then waited with bated respiration when Ricky went to the well again....only to get the same outcome.
With the crowd on his side, as opposed to three goons, sorry Big Rick, I love you really, Ali stirred and his superiority in the speed stakes enabled him to telegraph Tremoid's trajectory and earn a crust of offence, courtesy of an Arm Drag. Yes, the guy whose arm had hurt him for months...never mind!
An Armbar ensued. I won't bore you with the details for risk of taking up too much TV time.
Ricky didn't want to be down there (DOWN WHERE?) too much himself and grabbed Ali by the nose, ushering the former World champion into the corner for another break.
There, The Unwilling Pawn didn't play nicely and attempted a sly right hand, which Ali read, blocked and responded to with a right of his own. Repeat and rinse.
Backed by the crowd, the Superstar of Bogotá added another hat-trick of powerful rights until a timely knee to the stomach stopped him in his tracks.
That was the end of the Colombian's comeback and to make matters worse, the third time was the charm; Little Ricky scored with his Jumping Elbow Drop.
And that's all he got.
Little Ricky tossed the former World and Keystone titleholder to the outside and was reprimanded for doing so. While they had a discussion, cue another gang beating as Rick, Ri-Khan and Rik all set about the South American; the two bigger men holding Amore back so their leader could tee off on the hall-of-fame contender with three, free punches that floored Amore, especially when Ri-Khan and Rik removed their helping hand. In fact, Ri-Khan didn't allow Amore any time to rest, ramming Ali's handsome face into the apron.
If that weren't enough...
POWERSLAM on the outside by Rik! Talk about getting revenge for that stamp on the hand at the start of this contest. They rolled Amore back in, conveniently before the official, who suspected foul play but couldn't call it by virtue of not seeing it, and Little Ricky executed the academic cover.
Th..at won't be enough!
Urged on, Little Ricky applied a Rear Chinlock, which upset The Great Leader who didn't feel his underling should have slowed the temp down and I'd be inclined to agree with him.
Fearing their wrath perhaps, the former Tremoid let go and came over to seek advice from the gang.
ADD DIALOGUE HERE.
Wait a minute...
Ricky is going to the second rope. He's missed with two Elbow Drops thus far (successful at the third time of asking.) Would his Leg Drop be more fruitful on its first go?
Ali had to act quickly - and the notorious speedster did. It seemed he was playing possum there, up on his toes and kicking Ricky not once nor twice, but thrice and then bringing the big lad down with a penalty-like punt that any number nine worth his salt would've been proud of.
LR retreated to the corner, his turn to look for space in this relationship, but Ali wouldn't relent.
I PITY THA FOOL!
I PITY THA FOOL!
I PITY THA FOOL!
Three stiff European Uppercuts may've necessitated a trip to the dentist's.
LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, UP(ppercut.)
No, not one of Kid Chameleon's cheats - SEVEN PUNCHES. What a wonderful combination and Little Ricky was rocked! Big Rich was livid and the other two servants were struggling to contain the Napoleon-like figurehead.
A whip was reversed by Little Ricky; the Colombian countered the counter with a Basement Dropkick and summoned up enough strength to SLAM LR here on Slam 92! Fun fact for you: Ali competed in the main event of the maiden episode in a 6-man battle. Would he see 100? That may depend on the conclusion of this clash.
Amore felt he needed to up the ante and take a chance. He lived and died by the sword and his jaunt to the outside represented another roll of the dice. When Little Ricky, who had no clue where Amore was despite the directions, turned...
Slingshot Crossbody Block-ED!
The Unwilling Pawn had heeded their advice, which led to a very high-five with Big Rick jumping up to tag Rik on the outside...
Every member of the Clan questioned the count and Little Ricky was called over for more inspiration by his charismatic leader.
“YOU! COUNT FASTER!” Big Rick shouted at the ref. “AND YOU! PIN HIS BITCH-ASS!” Pointing at Little Ricky.
Little Ricky nodded and then whipped Amore into the ropes on the left-hand side. I'm sure that was phase one of the plan...
Missing with the little Big Boot wasn't part of the script and neither was that phenomenal Pele Kick, a term I loathe by the way, which Ali had dusted off and delivered beautifully.
Superb Standing Moonsault!
Wait just a second!
Ali was on his bike and before Clan Strongbern could figure out what was going on, it had been spelled out.
And the cover ensued!
The bell rang and Ali Amore was the victor!
“HERE IS YOUR WINNER OF THE MATCH… ALI…”
The introductions stopped that fast. The rest of Clan Strongbern swarmed the ring quickly and Ali Amore had little chance to defend himself as the group of musclebound monsters attacked!
“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Big Rick shouted.
He tackled Ali with a huge SPEAR and laid right into him with a series of devastating rights! Big Rick continued to attack while both Rik and Ri-Khan helped their Napolean-like boss put the boots to the Colombian. Try as Ali might, he wasn’t able to fight the odds…
That was the crowd roaring!
Tyson XL and Vic Gravender ran towards the ring quickly and looked to return the favor from when Ali Amore had tried coming to their aid in a sneak attack on the Slam prior to now! Clan Strongbern saw them coming and quickly scattered out of the ring like gigantic cockroaches while The Unstoppables entered the ring to check on Amore.
“No! What business do The Unstoppables have out here?” C.G. Gains yelled. “This is Clan business!”
“The match is over, Gains! The Unstoppables have seen enough!” Melissa said. “They’re done dealing with the numbers game of Clan Strongbern now they’re taking the fight right back to them!”
The former Dynasty Tag Team Champions both helped Ali to his feet in the corner.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” Ali said.
Vic motioned for a microphone while the members of Clan Strongbern remained on the outside with Big Rick about ready to blow a gasket. He kicked the nearby guardrail out of frustration while Vic looked at them.
“I’m sick of this shit,” Vic began, “and I think the fans of Doha are, too!”
The raucous cheap pop ERUPTED from the crowd as the surly World Class Badass leaned over the ropes. The former nbW World Champion looked right at Rik and Ri-Khan.
“Ali Amore’s sick of your shit. Tyson XL is sick of your shit! I’m sick AND tired of this shit. So if the two of you fucking mutants want a fight, we don’t got to wait until later tonight! Let’s do this RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW!”
The fans liked that! Big Rick turned in disgust to the fans and then turned his attention to Rik and Ri-Khan.
“THE TWO OF YOU… GET IN THERE AND FUCK THEM UP! NOBODY TALKS TO ME LIKE THAT!”
“You got it, boss,” Rik said with a sadistic grin.
He nodded to Ri-Khan as the two devastating bruisers headed towards the ring. The same official of the last match stuck around because we were getting that match…
DING DING DING!
Vic Gravender and Tyson XL had been waiting since 25 To Life to get their hands on members of Clan Strongbern and tonight, they were going to do just that. The second that two of Clan Strongbern’s beast hit the ring, Tyson and Vic attacked!
FIGHTS ALL AROUND!
Rik? Vic. Vic? Rik.
Ri-Khan was fighting Ty-Sawn. I mean, Tyson. Sorry.
The four big men were slugging out like whoa on either side of the ring with neither man giving up an advantage.
The camera panned across the ringside area with Ali Amore in the corner of The Unstoppables, no doubt hanging out to return the favor from when they came to his aid. On the other side, a pained and wheezing Little Ricky was holding his rib cage off his match with Amore just moments ago while Big Rick shot him a look of disappointment.
“GOOD FUCKING LORD! RIK! RI-KHAN, SHRED THESE TWO!” Big Rick barked.
While Rik and Vic were exchanging right hands with no signs of stopping, Tyson Xl was putting the boots to Ri-Khan in the corner. He continued to lay into him with big rights and the fights continued until Ri-Khan grabbed his arm…
AND HE BIT TYSON’S ARM!
Tyson certainly didn’t expect that, nor did he expect a High Kick to the head! Before Khan was known for being in Clan Strongbern, he was known for being a stout monster from Mongolia with a penchant for kick-boxing. It was clear despite whatever Big Rick and Clan Strongbern had done to make him act so insane, he hadn’t forgotten how to kick a head off! Tyson went down to the ropes!
Meanwhile, Rik tried to fight off Vic Gravender in the corner and pummeled him with rights. He tried to pull Vic out of the corner, but the 364-pound World Class Badass had different plans…
He caught him HARD in the chest with his signature Running Headbutt and the blow knocked the wind out of Rik! He didn’t go down, but Vic had an opening and lifted Rik, THROWING the 328-pounder over the ropes!
Tyson was still groggy as all get out from when Ri-Khan laid the boots to him. The Attack Dog tried to run at him in the corner with a Hip Attack… NO!
BODY AVALANCHE BY VIC!
Ri-Khan’s attack missed, but Vic’s didn’t! Tyson then ran off the ropes and caught Ri-Khan…
The Running Front Dropkick of Tyson knocked The Attack Dog back into the corner like he was fired from a cannon!
“NO! NO, DAMN IT, NO! FUCK THEM UP! NOW!” Big Rick yelled.
While the leader of Clan Strongbern was ready to blow a gasket, both of the monsters had been sent packing from the ring for the moment! crowd roared as The Unstoppables ruled the roost, daring either member of Clan Strongbern to get back in the ring and fight!
“You fucks wanted to step to us?” Vic shouted. “Come on! Step up!”
Vic even sat on the ropes, offering to hold them open for one of them to enter as Rik limped over to check on Ri-Khan. The two monsters were regrouping on the outside for the moment while Tyson XL had seen enough. The legal man of the match as was deemed so by the official Slim J was about to take flight. He had his sights set on Ri-Khan…
SOMERSAULT DIVE TO THE OUTSIDE…
ON LITTLE RICKY!
The chants came out loud and proud for The Walking Tank!
Shockingly, Little Ricky had shoved Ri-Khan out of the way to take the full brunt of a 280-plus pound man flying over the top rope! The crowd was amazed by the always-crazy-as-shit and athletic Tyson XL for his capabilities in the ring. Even Big Rick was taken aback a little by the self-sacrifice of Little Ricky to take such a blow, but as Tyson XL started to try and get back to his feet and look for his target…
YAKUZA KICK BY RI-KHAN!
The Attack Dog charged right at Tyson and OBLITERATED him in the midst of all the chaos with a big kick to the head! A Legitamate Japanese Businessman Kick if you’re PC like that. Ali Amore watched on in surprise as in the confusion, Clan Strongbern thrived again thanks to the numbers!
Vic tried to help his partner, but he was spun around by Rik Bonebreaker-Strongbern and HIT with a Standing Spinebuster!
The crowd was in disbelief over that! Nobody had ever manhandled Vic Gravender like that before in nbW, but it looked like the most powerful member of Clan Strongbern had done just that!
Ri-Khan rolled Tyson XL back into the ring and with things finally settling down into more of a traditional tag format for this bout, Ri-Khan wasted no time in putting a series of carefully targeted kicks into the side of Tyson!
A far cry from the wild beast that had been seen until now. Was this “Attack Dog” thing just some kind of intimidation tactic?
Well, maybe not.
He bit Tyson’s arm again!
Tyson let out a howl of pain as Ri-Khan continued to go at his arm like it were some kind of a chew toy. Even Rik was a little put off by his partner’s taking of Clan Strongbern Attack Dog perhaps too literal but it was working. He threw The Walking Tank over to the corner of Clan Strongbern and the big tag was made to Rik Bonebreaker-Strongbern!
The Bonebreaking-Behemoth hopped in place a la a certain big former MMA fighter-turned-wrestler who only works a couple dates a year as Tyson XL tried to pick himself up. When he did, Rik ran off the ropes and RAMMED into him with a massive Running Shoulder Tackle! The blow nearly cleared Tyson XL from the ring like so many victims had due to his Scud Missile Dropkick. Tyson was on the receiving end of such force and now Rik went for a cover on Tyson.
The first cover of the match after this massive slugfest, mind you.
Tyson with a possibly-expected kickout because Rik looked like he was having fun in there taking the fight to The Unstoppables.
He pulled Tyson up by his man-bun (Seriously, Markus, why a man-bun) and threw him into the corner. He rammed his back elbow into his face several times and then directed his attack lower by RAMMING him in the gut with a painful series of Shoulder Thrusts! The wind was knocked out of Tyson and that’s when Rik pulled him out of the corner. He scooped up Tyson and he THREW him out of the corner with a fuck-ugly, but a great Throwing Body Slam!
A relatively simple move made that much more dangerous by the freakish strength of a former powerlifter. Bonebreaker-Strongbern pulled Tyson XL back into their corner and put him down before making the tag to Ri-Khan. The beast climbed into the ring and Rik held Tyson’s head with an elbow to his throat before Ri-Khan laid into him with some rather VICIOUS Vader-style Forearm Hammers! Blows caught Tyson on the jaw from either side!
Vic was finally starting to get back up in his corner and held his back from the massive Spinebuster that he’d taken from Rik Bonebreaker-Strongbern moments ago. He watched Clan Strongbern take apart his tag team partner while Big Rick was gritting his teeth together.
“THAT’S RIGHT! THIS IS OUR RING NOW!” Big Rick shouted.
The blows continued to take their toll on the former ACW World Heavyweight Champion before a solid High Kick from Ri-Khan put him down in a seated position in the corner. Ri-Khan ran off the corner and Vic tried to swat him, but he was just too far. That didn’t stop Ri-Khan from pulling out his next move…
Exactly as advertised, it was a Cannonball Senton from a man with Khan as part of his name. Hence, Khannonball.
And the cover followed.
Tyson with another big kickout, but he was needing to make the tag. Ri-Khan howled at Slim J and even made him jump before he tried to pull Tyson back up…
RIGHT HAND! RIGHT HAND! RIGHT HAND!
Three of those solid hamhocks caught Ri-Khan on the jaw to allow Tyson XL a chance to get back to his corner… but Ri-Khan grabbed the back of Tyson’s hair and SNAPPED him down to the ground. Right after that, he ran off the ropes and delivered a HARD Elbow Drop to the head!
Tyson had come so close, but yet was so far thanks to Clan Strongbern. Ali Amore continued to watch the match from their corner as Vic tried desperately to find an opening for a tag. Clan Strongbern were showing excellent teamwork for a group of deluded, musclebound borderline mutants. Rik was tagged in again as Ri-Khan wrapped both hands around the throat of Tyson and continued to strangle him.
“Break it up, Ri-Kha, no…”
Ri-Khan shouted and you bet your ass that Slim J bolted out of their corner with the quickness. Rik laughed at him and then waited for Ri-Khan to move so he could grab him. Rik climbed to the second rope and simply fell…
A simple Falling Splash off the second rope nearly drove all the wind out of Tyson XL! Rik covered him again.
Vic had seen enough and charged in to save his tag partner with a boot to the side of Rik’s head! The blow disoriented him long enough for Rik to try and get rid of Tyson once and for all. He scooped him up over the shoulder and was looking for his Running Powerslam called The Crush Rush…
The modified Inverted Headlock Lariat by Tyson XL caught Rik by surprise and drove both monsters down! Now the crowd was aching for Vic Gravender to get the tag and the fans cheered for The Unstoppables member! Rik rolled over…
TAG TO RI-KHAN!
The Attack Dog made it into the ring and tried to stop Tyson. He pulled his leg, but Tyson brought up his other one and caught him in the face! Tyson turned…
TAG TO VIC GRAVENDER!
The 364-pound former nbW World Champion made it inside the ring now and he charged right at Ri-Khan, knocking down the 289-pounder with a hard Shoulder Tackle of his own! When he pulled The Attack Dog up, Big Rick yelled obscenities from his corner as Vic charged in and FLATTENED Ri-Khan with a big Body Avalanche in the corner! He pulled him mid-ring and then threw him to the other side…
Second verse, same as the first!
A second Body Avalanche was followed by Vic grabbing Ri-Khan by the head and letting him have it with a series of HARD Trapping Headbutts to the chest! He then pulled him and PLANTED Ri-Khan with a big Exploder Suplex!
The crowd cheered as The World Class Badass climbed to the second rope and took flight…
THE INCREDIBLE FLYING WRECKING BALL!
The Second Rope Diving Headbutt connected! Would this be all for Ri-Khan?
Ri-Khan got the shoulder up, but that’s when Vic slashed a thumb across his throat signaling he was going to put The Attack Dog out of his misery. He charged off the ropes looking for his Bulldozer Somersault Senton…
Much like Rik did to Ali Amore earlier, Big Rick grabbed Vic’s leg! He laughed at him and when Vic turned around…
The same high-impact Spin Kick from Ri-Khan that cost people some matches back at 25 To Life! He hooked the leg of Vic and tried to get the huge win!
Big Rick was in shock because that should have been three! He climbed up on the apron and pointed at Slim J!
“YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR ASS IN THE PARKING LOT LATER, YOU LITTLE SH…”
Ali Amore pulled him off the apron and THREW Big Rick into the steel steps! The former nbW World and Keystone Champion had seen enough and gave him a little receipt for earlier when Clan Strongbern tried to attack him!
Inside the ring, Rik tried to get back into the ring to interfere…
But Tyson XL ran back in and cut him off at the pass with another Scud Missile Dropkick! Rik went flying out of the ring and that left Vic alone with Ri-Khan. He pulled up the groggy Vic and pushed him into the ropes, but didn’t see the blind tag by Tyson XL! Vic threw him into the ropes…
Ri-Khan was DRILLED into the mat with a HUGE Pop-Up Powerbomb by Tyson XL! But that wasn’t all because Vic Gravender ran off the ropes…
He nearly flattened him with a Running Somersault Senton! Tyson XL made the cover as the legal man on Tyson as Vic watched for any other members of Clan Strongbern trying to interfere.
What a win tonight! Tyson XL helped Vic to his feet and the two celebrated in the ring with Ali Amore coming inside to join them. Clan Strongbern had given The Unstoppables one of their hardest fights as a tag team since they formed, but with Ali Amore there to help even the numbers game, The Unstoppables had just persevered!
“HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS OF THE MATCH… THE UNSTOPPABLES!”
Vic Gravender, Tyson XL and Ali Amore all joined forces in the ring now and that set Big Rick OFF! He was holding his head in pain while Rik limped out of the ring helping Ri-Khan. The monsters all were very bitter over the fact that they had gone 0-2 tonight against three men that had been in their crosshairs since 25 To Life and now, they had just struck back in a big way.
“NO! NO! NO! TURN THAT FUCKING SHIT OFF! NO!”
Big Rick unfortunately had a microphone in hand and he pointed at the threesome in the ring.
“ALI AMORE! VIC GRAVENDER! TYSON XL! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! PEOPLE LIKE YOU HAVE BEEN ON TOP FOR FAR TOO LONG WHILE PEOPLE LIKE US SIT AND SUFFER! I’M DONE! I’M SICK OF YOUR SHIT!”
Vic waved his hand and asked for a microphone again.
“Well, then, Big Rick…” Vic said. “If you have such a problem with us, why don’t you… do something about it ton…” he then snapped a finger. “Oh, wait. You tried. And YOU ALL LOST!”
The crowd cheered, but Big Rick was about ready to go apeshit.
“NO! NO! THIS ISN’T HOW IT’S GOING TO GO DOWN! IF THE THREE OF YOU WANT A FIGHT, THEN CLAN STRONGBERN IS GOING TO GIVE IT TO YOU! AT SCORCHED, THREE OF US AGAINST THE THREE OF YOU! I WILL BE AVENGED TONIGHT AND CLAN STRONGBERN WILL REBOUND AND RIP YOU ALL THE FUCK APART!”
The crowd popped at the thought of that match! Clan Strongbern versus Ali Amore and The Unstoppables. Vic looked at Ali and handed his fellow former nbW World Champion the microphone.
“We accept!” Ali shouted. “Thugs like you have been running around here throwing your weight around long enough. We’ll be repeating tonight and leaving you walking out of Scorched with ANOTHER bitter pill for the four of you to swallow!”
And it was official! A huge six-man tag for Scorched!
But Vic wasn’t done. Ali handed the microphone back to Gravender and he turned.
“But that’s Scorched. I’m sick of your little ass barking out orders and hiding behind people like a little bitch, Strongbern. How about I just cut the head of the big dipshit snake that is Clan Strongbern on Slam 93? Vic Gravender versus Big Rick Strongbern on Slam 93! Let’s see how you do in the ring on your own?”
Big Rick growled at the fact he was being counter-challenged, but he sighed.
“I ACCEPT! I WILL BURY YOU, WORLD CLASS FATASS! I’LL BURY ALL OF YOU!”
Big Rick threw down the microphone and the wounded Clan Strongbern retreated. Vic, Tyson and Ali all celebrated with the legions of fans one more time. Tonight, things had gone their way and next week, it looked like Big Rick was finally going to have to get his own hands dirty against a former World Champion in singles action.
And a World Class Badass at that.
Something in My Throat
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! Can’t believe I lost!”
“It was all that dumb EMT’s fault! Sally what’s-her-face! You would’ve won, baby!”
That was the sound of a very annoyed and defeated Charlie Birkin walking backstage with Ali Carr. Birkin’s head was still throbbing after being dumped on his head courtesy of 25 To Life winner Brock Newbludd’s Mother of All Suplexes.
“That wanker…” Birkin growled. “His arse’ll be mine next time. I’m still The Best That’s In! I’m already great and I’m only twenty, love!”
“Yeah, Charli… ew.”
The source of Ali’s disgust was the man walking in front of them. The two stopped when they saw none other than the man they antagonized two weeks ago, Matt Haddon. The Founding Father was having himself a cup of coffee in solitude backstage when he happened upon the two.
"Cough cough cough. Sorry." He actually said the word cough. "Sorry... I was drinking some good joe and almost choked on it... oh, sorry, was that uncalled for?"
Mr. Manx looked annoyed at the mere presence of Haddon.
“So I lost, big deal… “ Birkin scowled. “Boy, I don’t make a habit of losing ALL the time like YOU.”
Haddon shrugged it off.
“You’re right. My won-loss record is less than stellar, I’ll admit that. I took a gamble on fighting The Great Wall and I lost. Shit happens. But I try. I’m not back here making demands like a whiny little girl.”
Birkin pointed a finger at Haddon. “And THAT’S why you’re a failure. Litcheragh.”
Haddon was confused by the word. “Um… gesundheit?”
“It’s what you Yanks call lazy! I’m tryin’ to make somethin’ out of my career, boy, not make a mess of shite like you.”
“Well, okay, pretty boy. I help get you a spot in the roster and you want to talk down to me to mask your own shortcomings… well, how about this? If you want to do something about it, you can back up all that bluster against me in the ring. How about it… BOY?” Haddon said, mocking Birkin’s Manx-English.
Birkin and Ali exchanged glances.
“Ew,” Ali said. “Charlie here wants to fight REAL wrestlers, not… well, you. Ew.”
“Right, love. Let’s go grab a bite. He can choke on his coffee all he wants.”
Charlie and Ali both shot him a glare and the young engaged couple left Haddon to his cup of coffee. He shook his head.
“Stupid millennials. You all have to learn things the hard way.”
Alfie Button and Darren Best had turned the corner. After a losing streak in jOlt, they had challenged for the tag team titles and were on the up until...
Alex Reyn arrived.
Isolating the duo by putting Alfie on the shelf, Alex tested Darren's mettle in a series of matches that saw Best improve immensely with each one, albeit with the same outcome every single time...
A win for The East Wind.
At Slam 91, Alex Reyn marched into No Brand Wrestling hunting for Max Hopper's newly-won Keystone title - Hopper's worst nightmare come true.
To the East Wind's delight however, another opponent was placed in his path, a familiar face, someone he presumed maimed, crippled and long gone...
Darren Best arrived.
Prior to Darren denying Reyn a clear shot at Max, El Principe had been collateral damage, being brushed aside by The East Wind. He was clearly annoyed that VIP had agreed to team up with Alex against The Entertainers, despite El Principe's hatred of Best and Button when they essentially brought his own run in jOlt to a halt (I'm a poet and don't even know it.)
That's all history.
We're pretty certain it hasn't been forgotten and it's not all water under the bridge. In fact, it's POURING in nbW down and I won't even make any Reyn/Rain jokes.
This tag team bout will be contested under Lucha rules with tags, the typical currency, accepted as well as rolling out of the ring being acceptable in this climate.
They were inside the arena.
'Let Me Entertain You.'
Best came out first with Button presumably admiring himself in the mirror, doing his hair.
Waggling all of his fingers, clearly seeking attention and actually attaining it, Alfie playfully barges into Best, who doesn't budge, from behind. Upon doing it a second time, Best responds by looking and Alfie's index finger instructs him to gaze up at the big screen.
"Dazza's day of destiny."
Indeed, it was.
"Introducing first,weighing in at a combined four hundred and twenty-seven pounds - Darren Best and Alfie Button. THE ENTERTAINERS."
Afterwards, Alfie storms to the ring, sliding underneath the bottom rope and onto the top turnbuckle in the lower right-hand corner of the ring, where he gains more acclaim from an appreciative audience. He urged Darren to join him, but the more level-headed member of the pair takes him time; a stark contrast to the psyched-up Englishman, who leaps off the turnbuckle with a bounce and a distinct swagger in his step, blurring the lines between arrogance and intensity. Either way, The Entertainers were raring to go.
VIP left his private locker room and made the short walk to the curtains where a couple of guards saluted him and marched towards the ringside area. Waiting there, and we're talking about a matter of yards, is a limousine. One of the guards hands the esteemed individuals over to a chauffeur, who opens the door for Ingram to get in.
Ridiculously slow and short, the driver escorts him for ten seconds or so prior to getting out himself and holding the door yet again, this time for the ego-inflated star to step out.
A red carpet leading to the steps is trodden by Price.
Introducing...weighing two hundred and forty-eight pounds, fresh off a film set in Hollywood, California...please welcome Victor Ingram Price...V.I.P!"
A soft chant begins to spread throughout the area. Starting as a whisper but growing into a chorus as the lights darken while images begin to flicker on the viewers screens. Images of violence, war, and a solitary figure watching it all.
The chanting has grown louder now and the drumbeats of Nightwish’s “Seven Days to the Wolves rise in volume as mist spreads throughout the stadium ghostly images of great heroes and villains forming two parallel lines along the ramp.
The rock part of the song kicks in and thunder roars while fire erupts on the stage, revealing the cowled form of the East Wind Alex Reyn hands outstretched over the flames, he’s shirtless save for an open black cloak with a wolf skull mask. His body covered in ancient symbols and markings that seem almost to glow and move in the firelight.
He begins to walk forward, and the ghostly figures kneel as he approaches them, only to rise up as he passes them. As if more energised. Turning to watch as he walks, himself never breaking eye contact with the ring.
“Howl! Seven days to the wolves
Where will we be when they come?
Seven days to the poison
And a place in heaven
Time drawing near us
They come to take us”
He climbs atop the top rope and looks out, surveying the arena with an appraising eye as thunder crackles once again.
Coldly, he steps down. Removing the cowl and placing it on the ringpost. Dropping into a low crouch to stare down his opponents.
From the darkness into the light. Price presented Reyn with the opportunity to showcase his skills from the outset. It was unusual for Victor to willingly vacate the spotlight. Was he trying to appease the instinctive, highly dangerous Alex?
Understandably, Darren Best was chomping at the bit to battle Reyn from the get-go, the audience included, but in a stark role-reversal, Alfie proved to be the calm head for once and wouldn't budge: "Dazza, chill, my man. You'll get your chance."
Darren was LIVID. Alfie turned round and placed his two hands on his own head to reiterate his point: "You get tunnel vision around this fella. Leave it to me."
For one of the few occasions in nbW, the Brit was booed for denying Darren an instant shot at retribution. Then, the bell rang and Alfie, ignoring everyone, circled and circled and circled, seemingly cautious of Reyn himself...
Was it for Alfie's reluctance to get his feet wet or Alex's unconventional approach of backing into the corner, lounging and leaning back as if he were bored by Button's negative approach? He had got into Alfie's head when the two met in jOlt and it worked again, as Button became a bull, going gung-ho to steam in...
SUPERKICK by Alex! That was surely a slap in the face to Mr. Button, who used that move more than Cristiano Ronaldo bust out lollipops.
However, when you are an advanced user of a manoeuvre, you're well-versed in evading it and Alfie did just that with a slingshot out onto the apron and then back into the ring to take Reyn down with a dazzling Slingshot Hurricanrana...
Only for Alex to deflect the impact with a cartwheel! Clever. But, Button was a step ahead and brought Reyn down a peg or two with a quick-thinking and rapidly-executed Basement Dropkick aimed at the knees.
At this point, Best was BEGGING Button for a tag. Alfie, hands on hips, looked out over the crowd and pondered whether it was the correct move for them as a couple. The nbW faithful all cried for him to do it and Button bowed down to the viewers, he was their choice after all, and...
Yes, Best was in and...
Just like that, Reyn rolled out of the ring, enabling Victor Ingram Price to replace him. No tag was necessary, a fact that Darren may be served to remember later in this bout, and this prompted yet more boos. We would have to wait.
Instead, Best and Price, who'd met in singles and tag action, were set to tangle and they did with a typical, traditional Tie-Up that Best used to his advantage, assuming control with an Arm Wringer. Nonetheless, the bigger, stronger, more devious Price used his upper body to force Best into a neutral corner.
A request by the referee for a clean break was surprisingly respected by Ingram, who's not opposed to breaking the rules, a contrast to Reyn, a lawful villain (yes, they exist) who prefers to break your legs.
Coolly stepping back, Price beckoned for Best to attack. Darren didn't need a second invitation, trying to tie Ingram up, but another pace back gave Price all the space he needed to deliver an assertive boot to the gut.
Thereafter, Vic whipped Best into the western set of ropes and punished him with a big-time Belly-to-Belly Suplex once the human boomerang returned gratefully into Price's path.
And that was all. Big time? Tut.
Perhaps Darren was running on adrenaline. Regardless, it was refreshing for yours truly to see a professional wrestler quash a count prior to 'TWO.'
VIP exited right, enabling Reyn to go in after the winded Best, akin to a tiger hunting wounded prey.
But, Button preserved his partner by pulling him out of the ring, prompting a mixed reaction as some spectators wanted to see Best and Reyn finally get it on, whether Darren was at a disadvantage or not, while the logical among the masses respected Button's lack of selfishness and decision-making.
Best fell into the former category and the normally sensible Darren was letting heart rule head. This was a definite change for both men with Alfie tucking his emotional side in his pocket and putting his thinking hat on.
"Alfie, what is your problem? All I wanna do..."
"That's your problem, right there, Dazza. You're not finkin'..."
Reyn's SPEAR was intended for Alfie. But Best shoved Button out of the way and took the hit instead, thus marking the first physical altercation between the pairing since their notorious run together in jOlt. Probably not in the way either of them ever imagined, but life has a habit of surprising you. Speaking of which...
A shocked Alfie copped an Enzui Lariat from Victor. You'd expect to see The Entertainers as a more cohesive unit, but right now, Reyn and Price were outdoing their opposition in that area.
Not wasting any time, Vic tossed Button back into the ring and joined him. Ingram grabbed Alfie's left leg, but the Briton was able to kick him off before rolling to his feet, hitting the ropes and effortlessly avoiding Ingram's Lariat, this time at least...
Alfie had seen the Clothesline attempt. What he didn't bank on was Reyn dragging him out of the ring when Alfie hit the second set of ropes and before you could say 'Great Train Robbery' the cheeky Cockney was thrown into the nearby barricade.
Alex's assault was far from finished: A Running Knee to the ribs followed and then he slung Alfie head-first iinto the apron.
Reyn's stealth skills were legendary. Surprisingly, he didn't notice Best sneaking up on him, primed to strike with a Running Clothesli-Baseball Slide by Price to protect the East Wind.
Rather than thank Ingram, Alex, all business, slid Alfie into the ring. Repeated knees to the ribs caused the Cockney to cough and splutter violently.
"In jOlt, Alex Reyn tore Alfie apart and he may just do that here with Darren Best now out of the picture," predicted a sombre Melissa Vanderart.
"And, he's not living off a past reputation: he ANNIHILATED Paul Sanders on his nbW debut at our last Slam. This guy is LETHAL," added CG Gains.
Reyn cinched in a Dragon Sleeper, wrenching somewhat and it was asking serious questions of Alfie, who was struggling to stay conscious.
Actually, Alex seemed somewhat impressed with Alfie's newfound resilience, finding him to be a tougher adversary to break, affording the Englishman a wry smile. Don't confuse that with compassion because here comes...
THE EAST WIND C-OUNTER BY Alfie!
Superb Shiranui! Beautifully done by Button.
Alfie was dying for a breather - does that make any sense? Price yanked the rug away from Alfie on various levels, pulling him straight out of the ring...
...Or he would have had The Entertainer not reached for the rope, holding on for dear life. Can he hang in there?
Reyn with a Running Curbstomp---CLOTHESLINE by Best instead! That warranted a significant cheer by the crowd, thrilled that Darren had finally got offence in on Reyn and Best himself must've been pleased with that.
Meanwhile, his partner managed to kick Price off - not for long though. VIP was coming after the Cockney, who ducked a Lariat...
What Ingram didn't see was Darren, who had a Single Arm DDT with Price's name plastered all over it.
This was getting out of hand: Alex then tried to blindside Darren with a Superkick as he got to his feet, but it was Button's turn to come out of NOWHERE, wherever that is, and leapfrog Darren to stun Alex with another gorgeous Hurricanrana and Alfie got ALL of it on this occasion.
Shall we have a party, boys and girls?
Amidst that chaos, Alfie whipped Alex into the corner. He cocked his right hand and the crowd roared. Alex would hate them for this, but right now, the audience stated...
I PITY THA FOOL!
I PITY THA FOOL!
The Cockney called for another whip...
I PITY THA FOOL!
He was about to fire in a fourth when Reyn again incurred the crowd's disdain by rolling out of the ring and regrouping with Ingram. The Entertainers had found their groove at long last and had made the strangers look just like that. Could they keep it up?
Yes they could.
In years past, Alfie had always used the Tope Con Hilo as his Out of Ring attack. But while fighting Reyn, Best had developed one of his own. And now tonight, the Entertainers wowed the audience with a TANDEM version of that move!
BIGGER! LONGER! AND UNCUT!! (Stereo Tope Con Hilo Rana)
Reyn and Price were rolled into the ring. Best and Button glanced at each other.
"Shall I go first?"
Button had an alternative proposal: "Why don't we go togevver?"
A wry nod.
OUTStanding Moonsault by Darren and HEEERE'S ALFIE!!! (Standing Shooting Star Press.)
The official couldn't even answer, so The Entertainers flopped on top of Reyn and Price respectively!
THRE-ATENING, BUT NOT QUITE!!
Alfie kicked Victor out of the ring, leaving Best alone with Alex and Darren seemed primed to set Reyn up for...
Best Submission Ever (Scorpion Armlock.)
I say seemed; it didn't happen. Darren took too long to set his feet correctly and Reyn capitalised on the false start with a Drop Toehold that deposited Darren onto the middle rope. What could that lead to?
A sensational Running Step Up Guillotine Knee Drop to the back of Best's neck. OUCH! That may've done serious damage and Reyn was now stalking Darren, so what lay in store next for the native New Yorker could cost Best a chunk of his career, like their last meeting in jOlt did.
Alfie to the rescue with 'I'M ALFIE BUTTON, BI-SUPERKICK!'
The impact was stunning! The Springboard Forearm Smash was squashed by Reyn's sensational Superkick! Alex must've had eyes in the back of his head on that one.
Best or Button?
Frustratingly for Darren, Reyn turned his attentions to the latter, searching for the East Wind Cutter Meanwhile, VIP was going to put an exclamation point in the victory, grabbing Darren in preparation for a special Tornado rendition of Red Carpet Treatment!
Just after Ingram had taken off, Best sat him down with his wonderful Wrist-Clutch Exploder into the turnbuckles, aka BEST OF BOTH!!
Operative word being both...
In perfect harmony, Reyn hit Alfie with the EAST WIND CUTTER! Eerie stuff here.
Instinctively, Best and Reyn, not realising, rolled to cover and then their eyes locked.
They both stood up simultaneously, forgetting about their fallen foes, slowly as the audience also ascended to its feet. They had interacted, but this, THIS, was it.
Kick by Reyn!
Punch by Best!
The two lunged at each other, and the brawl began! Alex tried to grab Best's throat, but Best caught the arm and tried to negotiate soem kind of hold while Reyn slammed his knees into Best's ribs! The New York native tried to fight back with punches of his own, but Reyn, attacked him with a bite to the throat!
Or at least he would have, if Best hadn't headbutted him right then and there!
Best went on the offensive now and momentum carried the two of them out of the ring, the crowd cheering the intensity of their battle.
The impact of hitting the floor caused them to seperate, but they were on top of each other in seconds! battling back and forth on the outside, Reyn trying to use his strikes, while Best tried to get in close and catch him in some kind of hold! It was like watching a wolverine fight a python!
That was the sound of the two men hitting the barricade! Their fight carrying them up and over and into the crowd, which gave them a wide berth as the two continued fighting even as they rolled on the concrete ground! Best managed to shove Reyn off and get to his feet, only to charge at Reyn and tackle him into a row of chairs, the two of them still going at it in the crowd! Non stop, back and forth! Head to head! Nose to nose! Neck and neck! Stern to stern! Yin to Yang! Rice to beans! Beans to rice! Meat to moat! Hoof to cow! BOYSTOMENFLIESTOSTINK- SOMEBODY STOP ME!!!
Anyway, now that the camera's can no longer follow them, Let's let them do their thing: VIP and Alfie had been hit with the respective finishers at the same time and lo and behold, they were stirring in sync as well. They would have to finish this off for their two teams. We had started with four and it had transformed into a one-on-one encounter between two tag team specialists, one being a reigning champion.
They were weary. VIP seemed to have a bit more left in the Hank Wright, lifting Button up for some special VIP Treatment (Last Ride.)
Notwithstanding, and they were BARELY, Button fought the irritating Ingram off, sending Price into the corner for separation. Ordinarily, we would have heard the crowd's best Mr. T impressions, but Alfie still resembled Bobby Ewing in the 10th season of Dallas.
VIP seized the initiative again, though Alfie cut him off with...I PITY THA FOOL after all and shot a dazed and confused Californian East-bound...
The Hollywood Star opted to swing Alfie around, only to get cracked with Match Of The Day (Overhead Kick - Pele to some of you...)
No, no, VIP saw that and caught the stray kick, converting it into an STF dead CENTRE of the ring! What a turnaround and what drama we have here.
It could be curtains for the Cockney, who had his hand cocked, apparently read to practise his door-knocking technique on the canvas. Alfie was in agony.
Button's hand formed a fist as he pushed himself towards the ropes, egged on by an appreciative fanbase, willing Alfie to overcome one half of the Dynasty Tag Team champions, an accomplishment in its own right.
You can see the gears going around in Alfie's head; the poor pup wondering whether he should live to fight another day or leave it all in the ring.
In the end...
What did he do?
He bit down on his non-existent gumshield and reached the promised land in the form of the bottom rope!
Cheers and applause echoed around the arena. Button had passed a personal gut check that even Alex Reyn would afford a smile should he be here to witness it instead of exchanging leather with Darren Best in an undisclosed location. Fuck knows where they are.
Price broke at four, eventually rolling off Button. Both men were feeling the effects of the finishers they'd suffered and the sequence that had ensued, panting, digging deep for one final gust of wind that would drag them over the line. Who would summon it?
Again, Vic wanted to take Alfie out for some VIP Treatment. It was a struggle, but Ingram got Button up into the air for the Last Ride...
Only he couldn't keep him there.
Or could he?
If Ingram could raise Button slightly higher, it would be all over for Alfie. Instead, we're sorry to say this nbW...
The Falling DDT Counter to a Powerbomb worked perfectly here. Where on earth did that come from?
And, a Small Package!
Could the element of surprise be enough?
Yes, it was. A MASSIVE win for The Entertainers and while Alex Reyn would head Darren Best's list, what kind of impact would that have on the doubles division? At Legacy, A-List had exacted revenge on The Entertainers and gone onto to stop The Unstoppables on two separate occasions. However, here tonight, Button had got the better of Price.
Could The Entertainers fight on two fronts?
Would A-List be running scared of them now?
Where were Best and Reyn?
Jonny Bedlam: Two Weeks Ago
A black screen popped up and some letters faded in:
“2 weeks ago in Boston”
The black scene setting frame swirled into a colorful scene. A Boston pub with many Celtics regalia sporting Bostonians presented itself to the viewer. Many were alive with the spirit of booze, as you might imagine. Jonny Bedlam and his good friend Petey were standing against the reddish wooden bar, watching what was likely a TV, out of view.
“The freakin bricks Wall and Beal are tossin, youd think they was on a construction site uh somethin, ehh Jonny?”
“The Wiz certainly dont appear ‘ready’ this year either. I think Big Green may have this series.”
“Ha, I know yous a fan uh that Polish fellah...Gortat???”
“Yeah, not enough goon centers with a good midrange shot anymore.”
“Aint dat tha truth?”
Jonny took a sip of a large glass full of brown liquid. “Well enjoy your booze here tonight Petey...in a couple of weeks we are gonna be in a place where it’s real hard to find.”
“Haha, I’m so glad ya takin me witcha to the sandbox. I aint left Boston in a couple of yeeeahs.”
“Your elocution certainly doesn’t betray that my friend.” With that, Jonny stared at Petey with a sarcastic smile that made Jonny not have to define elocution for Petey and brought out a hardy chuckle.
“Plus, Jimmy couldn’t make it this go-round. He’s got some roadie gig with a Red Dirt band for the next month. By the time I hear from him again, hell probably be full on Dixie Mafia.”
“Red Dirt? Dixie Mafia? Whass all that J?”
“I knew those Massachusetts high education rankings had to be suspicious”
“At least they dont teach us which fahhhm animal is the most like fuckin a broad.”
“HEY! Mr Carter in Ag Tech was one of my best teachers ever!”
Both of them laugh. Both take another sip of their beverages.
“But while we are there Pete….seriously....keep your head down and nose clean. You getting hurt again would set your mama to my neck with a steak knife. She’s barely forgiven me for the time you got nailed with a chair last year.”
“Jonny...stooooop. i got this buddy. We got Muslims in Mass, and Ive never had a bad wuhhhd with one of em. Its not like theyre the damn Italians.”
“Wasnt your last girl Italian?”
“All of em ahh, buddy.”
“Ok, but I mean it, be careful.”
Fade to black.
In the Ring
Silence in the arena is interrupted by a distant voice on a walkie-talkie and then a recognisable anthem to music fans, though not the nbW faithful.
'Kids' by MGMT.
"Oh no..." uttered Melissa Vanderart.
"FINALLY," CG Gains stated, standing up to applaud...
"Big Kid" Chris Smith.
Boos reverberated, except for CG's solitary one-man band, basking and revelling in this individual's handiwork, shelving Kid Chameleon on the same show Alex Reyn hospitalised Paul Sanders.
"GAME OVER for The Players," crowed Gains.
Chris Smith wobbled down the aisleway like a poor Big Daddy impersonator. However, he'd shown himself to be a dangerous customer, not to be underestimated, by slamming Chameleon through a car windscreen.
As he stepped over the top rope, he called for a microphone. Maybe we were about to find out the method that lay behind Smith's madness.
"My name's Chris Smith and everything I do is for the kids."
Chris held his massive paw up to the giant screen for video footage to be rolled and simply muttered: "Reason one."
Backstage at our nbW Live show a month ago, Kid Chameleon and Paul Sanders head through the curtain, coming up short in a tag team triple threat encounter with For The Win and the actual victors, The Rich Family.
"Hello, my name's Chris Smith and it's a pleasure to meet you, Kid."
Chameleon stared straight through the 6'6 blonde-haired bruiser: "It isn't a pleasure to meet you, Chris."
Chameleon walked off, prompting Paul to laugh: "Kid doesn't like bullies."
Smith shouted: "I'm not a bully. Hey Kid, why don't you come and say that to my face?"
Gains nodded: "Now, we know why."
Vanderart couldn't believe what she was hearing: "Are you kidding?"
A straight-faced, straight-laced Gains contemplated: "Pun intended?"
Smith didn't say another word and we headed to a commercial break. Surely, he had more grounds than the mere snub of a handshake?
Stemming from an earlier confrontation between two of NBW’s current singles champions, the leader of the In Crowd -- Blitzkrieg champion “Big Talk” Jake Tockwell and resident alien hunter aficionado Keystone champion Max Hopper - that brought us to tonight’s match. Big Talk’s greed for all things gold led to this match being made tonight. While he had his designs set on obtaining the NBW World championship from his hated enemy Warren Spade, he was not above going after other championships.
Could the keeper of the Keystone (title) defend his precious belt tonight against a man who held victories over big monsters like Spike Saunders and Warren Spade and the 25 to Life winner Brock Newbludd?
Would Jake Tockwell get some payback for stable-mate El Principe’s defeat on Slam 91 and be a double champion in the process?
All those questions and more to be answered with the next match to come!
“All right, the moment you've all been waiting for! The moment where NBW’s fastest rising star adds another notch on his Toughest Man in No Brand Tour and becomes the DUBBA-DUBBA-DOUBLE champion you all crave and need!”
The former rockstar and former wrestler “Hot Sauce” Raul Ramirez walked from the back to bask in the jeers of the crowd. He raised an arm out to the crowds of Doha!
“Please welcome to the stage at this time, the man with the gift of gab – which means both his great voice and his deadly lariat … Spike Saunders has felt it! Warren Spade has felt it! Brock Newbludd has felt it and you, too, Max Hopper, will feel the POWAHHHHHHH of wrestling's best lariat! Please welcome the man that will be holding thirty pounds of gold tonight … “BIG TALK” JAKE TOCKWELL!!!”
The Eagles’s hit single “Life In The Fast Lane” played and the arena soon became washed in a sea of gold! Decorated in black and gold boas, the six-foot five and two-hundred fifty-six pound loudmouth from Memphis basked in the all the attention he was receiving. He raised the ends of his boas and looked pretty happy with how unhappy the crowd was to see him. He also strutted out the Blitzkrieg title he wore proudly and was looking to add
“Mr. Success right here!” yelled Tockwell. "Future double and then triple champeen coming through!"
The man known as Big Talk hit the ring and threw off his boas before handing them to the official for the match, Simon Brack. He also unstrapped his Blitzkrieg title.
“Hot Sauce … make sure that zero doesn’t mess up my boas!"
“You got it!” said Raul.
Raul Ramirez criticized the official for the way he handled the boas and Jake Tockwell and the Memphis brawler entered the ring to much jeers from the crowd! He was loud, he was brash, but he almost always found a way to win. He was up to the challenge tonight of taking Hopper's Keystone title but you can bet the Space Pimp wouldn't give him the satisfaction without a fight first.
One by one, each section of the arena went dark. It was almost as if someone, or something, had tampered with the lights. The West End Amphitheater was transformed into an eerie green. A thick cloud of fog rolled in. It was almost… alien.
Brent Williams apologized to the nbW faithful. “Ladies and gentleman, please excuse the interruption. We seem to be having problems with the - “ His feed cut out and was replaced by a screeching noise. Then, as if someone were switching dials on a radio, voices came through the speakers.
“I… Want… To… Believe!” the radio voices announced. Then the sound system roared to life with the geek punk classic “U.F.O.” by Boris the Sprinkler.
Amidst all the green, the Epicenter came to life, with a silvery object zooming to and fro in the distance. It grew closer, and closer, until finally it was quite clear and almost close enough to touch.
It was a flying saucer! A hatch door opened, lowering a stairway, and a bright, white light emanated from within the strange craft. A shadowy figure slowly took one step after another until it reached the ground. Finally, the mysterious being stood in the entryway, surrounded by the same bright, white light. The hatch door closed, and the U.F.O. sped off. When it vanished from the Epicenter, the same silvery object appeared above the crowd in the form of a large, silvery, saucer-shaped balloon!
As Jesse Ventura once said in an episode of The X-Files, “No other object has been misidentified as a flying saucer more often than the planet Venus.” However, this was not the planet Venus. This was the “Space Pimp” and Guardian of the Keystone (Title) Max Hopper! He stepped into the aisle, flinging his arms out wide, showing off the Keystone Championship, which was around his waist, to the crowd.. The nbW Faithful formed a veritable ocean of tinfoil hats. They ate up every minute of Max Hopper’s entrance, especially when he strolled up to a young fan and gave her the tinfoil hat off his own head! She didn’t have one of her own already.
Max Hopper strode to the ring and climbed up to the apron. He unfastened the Keystone (Championship belt) from around his waist. He folded the straps underneath the plating and held it up, moving it around like a flying saucer. When he ducked to enter through the ropes…
Jake Tockwell launched an early attack!
Right off the bat, Big Talk caught the paranormal investigator with his patented knee lift. The official moved in right away to get in between the Blitzkrieg champion and the defending Keystone champion who was left seeing stars after the cheap shot by Tockwell. He walked up to check on the Space Pimp and asked him if he wanted to continue to make sure he was good to go
“Make it so,” Max Hopper commanded. He snapped his fingers, returning the lights to normal!
After he gave the green light the bell was sounded.
Tockwell circled like a vulture on the still-vulnerable Hopper and landed a nasty right hand to him while he was in the corner. After charging at him using a second clothesline in the corner he grabbed Hopper’s arm and led him to the opposite side of the ring. A big elbow to the jaw clocked Hopper and before he knew it, it was the dastardly Tockwell trying to make himself a double champion with a school-boy roll-up!
Hopper kicked out!
The Guardian of the Keystone (title) was still left groggy and Tockwell used his taped wrist to rub viciously across the face of Max Hopper in a bit of old school meant to give welts. He threw Hopper out from the corner a second time and then jumped off the second rope to deliver of all things, a back rake! How heinous!
Hopper shouted out in pain and fell to his knees with the bigger brawler right behind him. Tockwell rolled up both of Hopper’s arms and then tried to steal another quick win courtesy of a back-slide!
The Space Pimp rolled through the hold and made it to his feet. Tockwell tried to take his head off quickly with his signature discus punch called Talk to the Hand, but Hopper wasn’t listening! Now it was Hopper’s turn to go for the quick win when he rolled up Tockwell with a small package.
And this time Big Talk kicked out!
Tockwell would attest to not knowing anything about a small package and would question anybody questioning his manhood. We would stop talking about that and focus on the task at hand which was Tockwell trying to become a double champion. Tockwell tried swinging for the fences again but he was greeted by Hopper shoving him into the ropes. Perhaps the most downright entertaining of all the current NBW titleholders then surprised Tockwell with a rolling reverse cradle!
Tockwell powered out using his leg strength.
The Space Pimp was still trying to get his wits about him and confronted Tockwell but he was a cheating bastard of the highest caliber in wrestling and threw Hopper by the waistband of his pants to shoot him into the middle buckle. He threw him down and then went for yet another pin-fall using his feet on the ropes for leverage …
But the official of this match was no dummy and saw what Big Talk had done! He stopped his count and admonished the Talk of the Town for his actions.
“Don’t do that again or you’re getting a DQ!” yelled the ref.
“Shut up, Zebra! He’s got a title to win!” yelled Raul Ramirez.
Hot Sauce now watched Hopper light up Jake Tockwell’s chest with some knife edged chops and listened to some faint wooing from the crowd who were no doubt major wrestling fans themselves. He turned Tockwell’s chest bright-red with even more painful chops now and then tried to send Tockwell to the ropes with a full head of steam. Tockwell reversed that and now it was Max Hopper finding himself in the corner with an angry Tockwell going after him.
Max got his foot up to block him, but Tockwell threw it down and doubled the Space Pimp over with a knee. What followed next …
TALK TO THE HAND!
… Because Tockwell had enough!
One of the best discus punches in the game crumpled the Guardian of the Keystone (title) like a large piece of paper. He didn’t fall fully down in the corner and had it not been for the corner he surely would have fallen, but that gave Tockwell a chance to pull the fan favorite out from the corner and take him down with a high and tight vertical suplex!
“Count out this space JAG!” yelled Tockwell.
He pointed where Hopper fell and he went for a cover to end things and secure another title to the Blitzkrieg he already had.
No dice and no Keystone!
Hopper’s shoulder came up off the mat and Tockwell was angrier now than he was at the start of this match. The fans of Doha were now rallying behind the Space Pimp as Tockwell brought down some vicious hammer-like punches to his temple and a good elbow to the crown of his skull.
“Say nighty-night, you stupid zero!”
Tockwell muscled the smaller Hopper and elevated him into a gutwrench. He was going for a gutwrench powerbomb but at the apex of the move Hopper started to kick his legs out just enough to make Tockwell lose his grip so he could land behind him. Tockwell spun his body around and came face to feet with Hopper.
GENETIC CLONE OF PÉLÉ KICK!
Tockwell was nailed right on the side of his done with the incredible athletic move by the defending champion and Hopper crawled his body over to Big Talk to cover him.
This match had been faster and probably more furious than a movie franchise about cars doing impossibly crazy and outlandish things. Tockwell was looking up the lights still wondering what hit him so that’s when Hopper doubled him over with a toe kick. One arm was hooked and then the other with Hopper looking for one of his versions of the double underhook sit-out buster called the Glass Ceiling.
“Max Hopper hasn’t used that move in years!” Melissa Vanderart observed. “He’s really pulling out all the stops tonight.”
“That or maybe he sent in a younger version of himself for this match against Tockwell,” Gains countered. “One that’s in better physical shape, perhaps.”
Either way, the Loud-Mouthed Prick found himself rolling out of the ring afterward. The Guardian of the Keystone (Title) saw this and started chomping at the bit. He pointed to the crowd to his right…
“GOTTA!” they responded.
He pointed to the crowd to his left…
“HAVE!” they shouted in return.
Then, like a choir conductor, he got the whole crowd on one, long note.
The Space Pimp took off for the ropes opposite Tockwell’s ringside position, preparing to fly! On his takeoff run, however, Hot Sauce Ramirez hooked the Blitzkrieg Champion with his cane and used it to pull him out of Harms’ way. (Hi, Ryan!)
“Awww.” The crowd was a bit deflated that they would not yet get to witness Max Hopper’s out of this world flying skills. Though, this did not mean that there would be any break in the action. NBW’s senior expert on the supernatural stepped through the ropes and ran around the ring apron in pursuit of the Talk of the Town. Once the Space Pimp was in range, he held up his fist and called out his move before leaping from the ring apron.
Like a photon torpedo, Max Hopper’s clenched fist zeroed in on its target: the Blitzkrieg Champion’s sciatic nerve. Much to the amusement of the Qatar crowd, Hot Sauce Ramirez tried to rub the feeling back into his client’s nerve, located on his buttocks. The pair argued with the referee over the fairness of the move the entire time.
It wasn’t long before the Keystone Champion had had enough. He marched up behind Jake Tockwell, grabbed him by scruff of his neck and the seat of his pants, and tossed him right back into the ring! Max climbed up to the ring apron to follow, but when he tried to step through the ropes, the Blitzkrieg Champion was ready for him. A swift kick to the chest stopped the paranormal investigator in his tracks. All Talk and All Action grabbed the defending champion by the head proceeded to pull him through the ring ropes.
The rope-hung DDT spiked Hopper’s head into the canvas! Tockwell dragged him away from the ropes and made the cover, hooking the leg.
3 - No! Max was able to kick out just before the count of three!
Out of frustration, Big Talk lodged an informal complaint with the referee that the count was too slow. Then, seeing Max Hopper starting to squirm around, Tockwell dropped an elbow right into his opponent’s chest. With the paranormal investigator still laying flat on the mat, the Talk of the Town clamped on a side headlock. He rolled Hopper over onto his stomach and created a blind spot from the zebra’s view, which he used to sneak in an illegal choke!
Max Hopper thrashed about wildly, kicking his legs, unable to breath. By the time the official had gotten into position to catch a glimpse of the choke, however, Tockwell’s hand was already off of the Guardian of the Keystone (Title’s) throat. Satisfied that everything was Kosher, the referee got back out of the way, presenting Big Talk with another opportunity to engage the chokehold. There was more kicking and punching the canvas by Hopper. The referee checked again to make sure it was all legal, and once again, Tockwell was one step ahead of him, having already released the choke.
The crowd started to get behind NBW’s guru on all things ghastly with a chant of “I WANT TO BELIEVE!”
Lacking the strength to fight his way back to his feet, Hopper hooked Big Talk’s leg and rolled him onto his shoulders.
No! Tockwell was able to shift his weight and get right back into the headlock. Big Talk was trying to pop Hopper’s head like a pimple, but Max was able to cradle him up again.
Again, Tockwell rolled back onto his duff and away from any danger of being pinned.
The crowd persisted in their support of the paranormal investigator, however, and it seemed to give him some kind of supernatural strength that allowed him to fight his way back to his feet! Max threw a punch into the Loud-Mouthed Prick’s breadbasket, then another, and another! He continued punching until he was finally free!
The crowd came alive. Max Hopper whipped the Blitzkrieg Champion into the ropes, but when he ducked his head for the spinebuster, Jake Tockwell countered it with a DDT! Big Talk scooped up the paranormal investigator and dropped him like a sack of potatoes with a powerslam. He hooked the leg.
3 - No! Max had just enough energy to kick out.
“That’s it!” Tockwell screamed in annoyance. “It’s time to finish this JAG!” He pulled Hopper to his feet and whipped him into the ropes…
GIFT OF GAB - MISSED!
Big Talk stuck his arm out for his lariat specialty, but Max Hopper ducked underneath. When Tockwell turned around, it was right into a SUPERKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK! It caught the Blitzkrieg Champion flush on the chin. With the challenger sprawled out on the mat, the Space Pimp stepped out to the ring apron. He grabbed the top rope, ready to propel himself into the ring…
He was unable to get any air, however. He tried again, but still couldn’t get off the ring apron. He looked down to find Hot Sauce’s cane hooked around his foot! Max argued with Ramirez, giving Tockwell plenty of time to get back to his feet. He charged at his completely unaware target, but Max Hopper saw him just in the nick of time to drop to his back, pulling down the rope in the process! The Talk of the Town spilled out of the ring, landing right on top of his manager!
Max stepped back into the ring and directed the crowd just as he had done earlier. He pointed to his right…
He pointed to his left…
He held up both hands high to the heavens…
He took off to the ropes opposite Hot Sauce and Big Talk. When he came back, the Space Pimp flew over the top rope with a Fosbury flop!
GOTTA HAVE MY HOPS!
And this time, he did! The move connected and knocked over both Jake Tockwell AND Hot Sauce Ramirez in the process! All three men were down in what looked like the wreckage of the Roswell crash. The man in the striped shirt began his mandatory ten count.
He didn’t get far in before a roar took over the crowd, starting in the back and growing toward the ring. The Rich Family had arrived!
Freddie directed traffic, as Donny and Declan both brought Max Hopper to his feet. They each put a hand on the back of his head and rammed him straight into the ringpost!
DING DING DING!
It was as this point that the referee called for the bell, awarding the match to Max Hopper via disqualification, not that anyone could hear it over the boos from the crowd. This did not stop the Rich Family’s attack, however. Declan and Donny pulled the paranormal investigator to his feet again. This time, they fed him to cousin Todd.
STRIKE IT RICH - ON THE CONCRETE FLOOR!
The cradle DDT drove Max Hopper’s skull right into the concrete floor, reopening a gash from the attack by the debuting Alex Reyn on the last Slam, in Istanbul. Todd sat him up and stood over him, raining down punches directly into that gash from overhead. Freddie issued some instructions to Donny and Declan, who went searching underneath the ring for something. They pulled out…
A table! The two youngest members of the Rich Family set up the table while Todd continued to hammer away into Max Hopper’s bloody forehead. Once the table was set, the First climbed on top of it. He barked some more orders and Todd passed off their unconscious victim to Donny and Declan, who in turn offered the Guardian of the Keystone (Title) up to the eldest and leader of the Rich Family, Freddie, for sacrifice.
RAGS TO RICHES - THROUGH THE TABLE!
Wood splintered everywhere from the impact of the cradle piledriver. It looked as if a Sharknado had swept through. Max Hopper was motionless in the midst of the wreckage. Freddie stooped over to get right in Max’s grill.
The eldest of the Rich Family issued a warning, “This is just a taste, Space Boy. I’m going to take everything you care about away from you. Your Keystone Title, will be mine. Everything you have will be mine!”
To add insult to injury, Freddie Rich slapped the Keystone Champion in the face. The Rich Family celebrated on their way to the locker rooms, and the Qatar crowd booed them the whole way.
Taking One for the Team
The scene transitioned backstage into the locker room area. Teddy Palmer sat on a folding chair, his right leg elevated, his foot resting atop the seat of a chair in front of him. On top of his foot rested an ice pack, for reasons unknown. His phone in hand, he gawked at the screen, presumably scouting local dating/hookup sites.
“What the hell is this all about?” Grady’s voice is heard off screen.
Hobbling into frame, Grady seemed to be somewhat concerned, but mostly skeptical, as he pointed towards Ted's frosty foot. Ted didn't look up as Grady inquired, still scrolling through his screen. He did offer up a brief explanation though.
“Nut kicking takes a lot out of a man, Grady.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Nut kicking is no joke my friend. Quite frankly, I'm baffled that those models have yet to injure themselves with such high risk offensive maneuvers.”
Reason now known.
“You're an idiot.” Is all Grady could say as he shoved Ted's foot off the chair so it could occupy his ass instead.
Ted's interest seemed to peak as he stared at his screen, finally looking up at Grady.
“Would you?” Ted asked, turning his phone towards Grady to reveal a woman.
Our presumptions were right.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What?” Ted asked, seeming slightly offended.
“Look at her! She's what? Three hundo? And even that is a generous assessment.”
“Fat shaming Grady? You ought to be ashamed!”
“She's crossed eyed in this picture…”
“I could help correct that, if you know what I mean.” Ted said, winking creepily at Grady.
“What's wrong with you?”
“The real question is what's wrong with you?” Ted countered before trailing off to himself. “Bet she'd be down for a pizza…”
“I’m not finished with you!” Was heard in the distance.
Ted's ears perked up as he lowered his cellphone.
“Braun?” He inquired, standing from his seat, Grady joining him.
“What?” Taylor Smith asked as he entered the frame, Pham and Reyes following with ice packs on their nuts.
“Oh, it’s you.” Ted seemed relieved. “What can I do you for?”
“You think you can beat us at our own game? Huh!?”
“Well, to be quite blunt, yes. In fact, twice now.”
“This guy with the jokes again.” Smith snapped, looking back at his buddies, forcing a fake laugh.
Ted was confused by this, sharing a glance with Grady expressing such.
“Next week, we end this!”
“But I thought I ended this already?”
“This was only the beginning!”
“I thought Slam 91 was the beginning?”
Smith was fuming at this point, much like he had been earlier in the evening. Stepping closer towards Ted, the Trainwreck couldn't help but smile at the models frustration.
“Teddy Palmer. Taylor Smith. Slam 93. Your nuts will be eaten alive!”
Teddy was a combination of disgusted and horrified. Pham was confused. Reyes wondered if what he just heard was correct. Smith just realized what he had said.
“You...you know what I mean!” He tried to put that fire out, but to no avail. “Get ready…”
Smith turned around to walk away, Pham and Reyes backing up slightly with knowing grins on their faces.
Smith whipped around, swinging his leg forward with evil intentions. Teddy’s eyes widened, and he had no choice but to act fast. Grady, who had already checked out of this conversation and was playing on his phone needed to take one for the team.
The Team of Ted's Testicles.
Ted grabbed onto Grady’s shoulders, pulling him in front of him to shield himself. Smiths foot flew between Grady’s legs, launching his boys into his stomach. Grady’s eyes clinched shut, and he dropped like a stack of bricks.
“One day Teddy…” Smith said, backing up as Palmer looked slightly relieved. “One day…”
The Handsome Man Modelling School vanished, leaving Ted to be alone with his fallen comrade. Sitting back down, Ted picked up his phone, turning his attention back to the interrupted conversation.
“I think I'm going to message her…”
“You...ass...hole…” Grady spit out.
Elsewhere, as it's Main Event time.
The bounty was making a lot of people get in on the hunt for the current NBW World champion Warren Spade. The Monster of the Mid-South stated he would not shy away from any challengers no matter who they were. The current Blitzkrieg champion Jake Tockwell had offered up $250,000 to anybody who could put that theory to the test. If somebody defeated Warren Spade for that championship and brought him the title, he would award them with the $250,000 in cold hard cash.
While things didn’t go so well for Tockwell earlier in the night when Max Hopper defeated him to retain the Keystone championship, Tockwell still had his Blitzkrieg championship and if whoever he got for this bounty could do what he wanted, he might just be NBW World champion before the night is over.
Was Warren Spade ready for whoever was coming to fight him?
You can bet your bottom dollar he was sure going to try.
“Gather ‘round everybody, gather ‘round!”
“Ladies and gentlemen … allow me to bring to you the man that liberated the NBW World title from the clutches of Derecho … the giant that leaves a path of destruction for your amusement …”
He tapped his cane on the ground and his spotlight disappeared. The crowd was baited with anticipation and when words appeared on the EpiCenter they went crazy.
“Your reigning and defending NBW World heavyweight champion … the Monster of the Mid-South … the One-Man Stampede … The King of Monsters!“
Warren Spade was here!
“Into The Arena” by Michael Schenker Group played and The Monster of the Mid-South basked in the reception from the crowd. After enjoying the response, he hunched over to let Fenton Woods ride on his shoulders. The monster who once boasted a two-year undefeated streak in No Brand Wrestling was approaching the ring fast with the NBW World title worn around his neck like a gigantic collar.
He stopped to gaze upon the ring with the fans cheering the giant every step of the way. The King of Monsters then took in a deep breath and climbed up to the ring. Spade handed off the championship to the referee of the match, Simon Brack and then he took a spot mid-ring. Whoever was waiting for him on the other side of the curtain better pray they were ready for the fight of a lifetime. Warren fought through hell for the better part of nine months to get the NBW World title and would fight like hell to keep it.
“Life in the Fast Lane” played and out came an angry Jake Tockwell. He was still feeling raw about the fact he came up short against Keystone champion Max Hopper for his title, but Tockwell tried his best to forget about it. If all the cards were right, whoever he got to pick up this bounty would make him the NBW World champion by the time tonight was all said and done. As always Tockwell didn’t go anywhere without Raul Ramirez watching himself. With a microphone at his side, Raul Ramirez and his phony smile.
“BIG TALK AND THE HOT SAUCE COMIN’ AT YA!!!”
Raul had been schmoozing Ohiyama all night, but right now it was back to the business at hand.
“Tonight we promised you a man that’s going to take that title from you Warren Spade. Your giant Cinderella story ends tonight when we bring to you a man that you know very well.”
Fenton looked a little bit worried. Spade didn’t.
“He was one of your stable-mates in the Upper Echelon years ago. He was a man that holds victories over many men on his way to the top. One of those includes an NBW Hall of Famer. Please welcome a man that knows how to tie you in knots and he’ll rip off your legs and take that title from you. That man is …”
Tockwell and Raul raised their hands to the stage.
The theme that played…
The Maltese National Anthem.
Fenton shook his head in disbelief at the fact that they had managed to pull out …
SON OF MALTA!!!
He had a brief return in the 25 To Life match before his dreams of main eventing Legacy were taken by the eventual winner Brock Newbludd.
This is wrestling though. There’s more than one way to the NBW World championship and now that Jake Tockwell opened the door with his $250,000 bounty. Son of Malta was looking to redeem his 25 To Life appearance tonight and there was no better way to do it than to take the NBW World champion and then become $250,000 richer!
Son of Malta walked towards the ring with the crowd giving him what was mostly a mixed response; equal parts shock and intrigue. The two-hundred fifty-pound submission specialist walked with intent to rip the title away from Warren Spade as he headed into the ring. The Upper Echelon ran roughshod over NBW for a long time back in 2010 and 2011 and they knew each other inside and out. Warren Spade looked at his former friend and watched him enter the ring. Spade had the size, sure. But Son of Malta had chopped many large opponents down to size including Hall of Famer Keegan.
The bell rang.
Spade was about to get into a defensive stance but not before he reached out to Son of Malta.
“You tell me how this is going to be Malta,” said Spade. “Are you really going to take that dick’s money for this title?”
Son of Malta eyed the title being held to his left and then turned back to Warren Spade who tried to extend an olive branch. He looked at the hand being offered.
… and he spat in it.
There was no language barrier when it came to that gesture. Complete and utter disrespect from Son of Malta. He was a former Infamy champion and a former Dynasty Tag team champion as the Sons of Evolution with Derecho and VIP so SoM was no stranger to success. He had never held the big one in NBW but if he could defeat Warren Spade, he would be the fourth member of the Upper Echelon to do it after SVJ, Judasbleek/Travis Martinez and now Warren Spade.
“I was hoping you’d take that attitude,” said Spade. “You were always a cocky little pain in the ass.”
Son of Malta said nothing but allowed for him to ring the bell.
The second that the bell rang, Son of Malta’s opening gambit was a good one because he came right at Warren Spade by drop kicking him into a corner. Jake Tockwell watched the match happen because he had a completely vested in whoever came out as the winner, given he was set to buy the championship off of whoever held it.
Son of Malta tried to chop the giant monster down by going after his leg as quickly as he could. He grabbed him and let the Monster of the Mid-South have it with a European forearm to the jaw. He fired a chop, another European chop and another kick to the leg. If Son of Malta had learned anything from such ruthless NBW luminaries like “Superstar” Vince Jacobs and Derecho, it was how to be vicious.
He posed for the fans with Spade actually reeling a little in the corner. Son of Malta was in control right now and he wanted Warren Spade to remember it.
But something he forgot was simple:
Warren Spade was right behind him and now he was angry.
A head butt nailed Son of Malta in the face!
Multiple blows from Son of Malta and the NBW World champion was still on his feet. However one blow from the champion put SoM down hard!
“Kick his ass!” yelled Fenton. “We’ve got a championship to keep and a Tockwell to show up!”
Tockwell watched the match and watched as Son of Malta got manhandled by the champion. He was going to bring down the hammer with a big chop into the chest, but Son of Malta actually moved and cracked him with another big kick to the left knee. That blow stunned Spade and Son of Malta fired another one! He had picked his target and with his submission being a cloverleaf-based submission called the Maltese Cross, he was setting up the perfect gameplan to take the title away from his former stable-mate.
But Warren Spade proved that sometimes, power trumps technique and that’s exactly what he did when he grabbed Malta’s arm as he tried another shot. He turned him around and then hoisted Malta right into his side. He was gutwrenched and carried around like a little kid with Spade smiling around. He held him up in the air as Fenton Woods started a drum roll against the ring apron. The crowd joined in with claps …
With a massive gutwrench toss all the way across the ring, Warren Spade was ruling the roost right now! He then hoisted Son of Malta back to his feet and whipped him to the corner with a ton of energy. He charged at him and flattened him with a big charging clothesline in the corner. Warren Spade then pulled him out of the corner and hoisted him high against the ropes where he picked him up and chucked him down with a big throwing scoop powerslam! The ring rattled and things got even worse when he ran off the ropes and sank a big-time elbow drop to the chest.
Son of Malta with a kick out from underneath the mighty frame of the Monster of the Mid-South, but Spade continued to punish him. Son of Malta limped back up but a huge back suplex from over seven feet in the air took him right back down!
Tockwell freaked out at the fact that Warren was dominating the Son of Malta right now after a hot start. Warran turned over to face Jake Tockwell and got a chance to go for the pin on the challenger.
The kick-out from Malta allowed him to stay in the game.
The former Infamy champion and Dynasty tag team champion escaped, but Warren Spade now had him in the cross hairs.
”STAM-PEDE!” Clap Clap. ”STAM-PEDE!” Clap Clap. ”STAM-PEDE!” Clap Clap. ”STAM-PEDE!” Clap Clap. ”STAM-PEDE!” Clap Clap. ”STAM-PEDE!” Clap Clap. ”STAM-PEDE!” Clap Clap.
Dragging his feet across the mat was the prelude to the Trample and he could nail this move, Son of Malta would have zero chance to collect on Jake Tockwell’s quarter-million dollar bounty. Spade ran off the ropes with a chance to land the massive spear, but when he got back off the ropes, it was Son of Malta rolling away from the ring so he could go to the floor.
He knew the Trample very well as a fellow former stable-mate of the Upper Echelon and no doubt had the chance to study Warren Spade’s newest moves in his repertoire prior to accepting this title match. He ducked to the outside but Warren Spade wasn’t going to take a count-out victory.
Warren stepped over the rope quickly and jumped to the outside where he buried a few knees to the chest. He aimed to throw him at the ring steps, but Son of Malta surprisingly gained his footing and stepped over the ropes. Warren jumped forward at him, but …
DROP KICK OF THE RING STEPS!!!
When Warren gave chase, Son of Malta used another well placed drop kick and sent the steps right into his knee!
That was Warren screaming in pain as his knee had taken some serious damage in the moment and if there was a chance for Son of Malta to capitalize, now was it.
Spade tried to quickly get back under the ropes and get himself back into the ring. The thing about the beauty of technique was that it didn’t matter if you were five feet, six feet or even seven feet – everybody was the size when they were taken off their feet.
The relentless Son of Malta headed into the ring to follow up on the opening that was created by himself. He tried going after the leg of Warren Spade a second time but Spade was quick to land a forearm club to the side of the head and stun him. Warren then tried to line him up in his sights but a shoulder tackle to the left knee caught him again and finally, the giant was chopped down!
Son of Malta took a second to enjoy the damage he had just created when fighting the Monster of the Mid-South. Warren Spade tried to get vertical again, but multiple times as he tried to do just that, his former stable-mate in the Upper Echelon put a well-placed boot between his eyes.
“That’s right! Kick that giant JAG down to size!” yelled Tockwell.
Son of Malta wasn’t paying any attention to the hate that Tockwell was spewing and instead made his way to the second rope for some extra oomph for whatever he had planned next. He took flight and came off the top rope with a very effective diving knee drop right on the bean!
Son of Malta was a technician and submission specialist first, but any chance he could get to go for the pin or make Warren exert extra energy, he was going to do so. Now that he turned this into his kind of match, he didn’t waste any time pussyfooting. He grabbed the long left leg of Spade and he put a boot right into the hamstring several times.
“Get up, Warren!” shouted Fenton.
His cries were to no avail because he kept putting the boot down on the leg of the King of Monsters to soften him up for any number of leg-based submissions at his disposal. He pulled Warren’s leg to the nearby rope and then used the second rope for leverage so he could execute a pair of knee drops aimed right at the leg!
Warren tried his best to keep Malta away and shoved him to the ropes at one point, but Malta came right back. Warren pushed him away again and used the corner to stand. When he got near the Son of Malta he came charging in, but Warren got the knee up. He tried landing his Old Size 22 … no!!!
Malta caught the knee over his shoulder and dropped right down into a move like a stunner, dropping Warren’s knee against the hard shoulder! Spade fell forward and that left him right open for Malta to grab him by the leg. He hooked an arm and then brought Spade down with a devil’s lock DDT!
It took some doing and some elbow grease for the Son of Malta to maneuver Warren Spade to go t his back but when he did he hooked the bad leg of Spade for some extra leverage.
And another kick-out by Spade!
That one took a lot out of him because he exerted force on the bad leg and thus, left himself open for another attack. Son of Malta had a few submissions to work over the knee in his back pocket and one of them was going to be the classic figure-four leg-lock!
One of the staples of old school professional wrestling was this very hold and it was working to great effect on Warren Spade right now as he was left in the center of the ring. Warren tried using his tremendous upper body strength to reach out and grab hold of Son of Malta, but even the tall Spade was just beyond his reach.
“No!” yelled Son of Malta.
The tactician had found his opening and so far, Spade hadn’t produced much of a defense against SoM’s technical acumen. Spade crawled towards the ropes and reached out to place a massive hand on the bottom rope. That was normally the cue for his opponent to let go of the hold, but the former Infamy and Dynasty tag team champion didn’t let go until the official provoked a count.
“1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … “
The official counted to four and Malta broke it up right there. With a title run and $250,000 on the line for taking the title from Warren Spade, that gave Malta plenty of incentive to not get disqualified. He stepped to his feet and looked down at Warren’s manager, Fenton Woods.
“You’re still a prick you know that?” said Fenton.
Son of Malta returned the favor by once again spitting, this time nailing Fenton’s carnival barker hat! The crowd booed his blatant disrespect of his former stable-mates and turned his focus back to winning the biggest title that had eluded him in his previous NBW stints.
When he tried to grab onto the leg of Spade to reapply the dreaded submission attempt, Warren used the other boot and shot Son of Malta across the ring like he was fired out from a cannon! Son of Malta had to grab the ropes to keep himself from being thrown across the ring and when Spade got up, he was on his shoulders!
Spade tried for any variation of Torn Asunder …
Malta had the moves out of the argentine backbreaker rack set-up scouted very well and slipped out behind Spade to deliver yet another vicious chop block right to the knee! Spade fell back down to a knee and that gave Malta a chance to go for another move off the second turnbuckle. He landed a flying neckbreaker off the second rope and now Malta’s time may have been near and he may have just become a quarter million richer!
Close, but no cigar!
He jumped on top of Warren again and tried to hook that bad leg.
Closer, but this is a no smoking section!
The King of Monsters got a huge pop from the crowd after kicking out of the big move. When Spade tried to stand, Son of Malta quickly moved over to the leg. He took hold of it and snapped downward with it, snapping the leg back even further! Son of Malta was like a hungry pitbull when it came to working over the giant and if he could finally land that Maltese Cross, Warren Spade’s hopes of staying champion would be dashed to bits.
He went for the leg and crossed over. If he could secure the modified cloverleaf he called the Maltese Cross, this would be it. He tried to step over …
He tried …
But Spade swung the other way and sent Son of Malta flipping forward!
Jake Tockwell wore an angry frown right now while Fenton Woods continued to watch the match. He slapped his hands on the apron feverishly to get more of the crowd behind him while Son of Malta was still trying to stand. When he stood up and tried to keep Spade from standing, Spade blocked his kick and met him with a head butt to the chest.
Now Spade was on his feet!
He waved at Malta to get him for his attack. He tried to go low on Spade by taking him down with a single leg but Spade got his knee up and dropped him with a coconut crush courtesy of a French giant! He followed that up by firing a very loud chop to the back of Malta, making him arch his back! Spade then moved backwards and held onto the top rope to give himself some extra standing room.
THE OLD SIZE 22~!!!
His patented thrust kick caught Son of Malta on the jaw and rocked him! Spade collapsed to the mat and then draped his massive arm over the technician.
But Son of Malta stopped that by getting his foot on the ropes!
“Yes! Yes! Yes! $250,000 says keep fighting, Malta!” yelled Tockwell.
The Blitzkrieg champion and Fenton Woods watched from their respective corners as Spade started to call for the end by snapping his arms over his shoulders in exaggerated fashion. He wasn’t going to dare try the Trample for fear of the damage done to his knee and simply waited for Son of Malta to stand up. A toe kick was placed firmly in his stomach and he tried to pull him down but when Malta saw the move coming, he moved out of the way and then ran off the ropes. He looked like he was going to target the leg with another shoulder block, but shockingly Warren jumped over him!
Warren’s leg was hurting him, but he fought through the pain just as Malta came around …
WEST MEMPHIS TWISTER~!!!
No Trample, but he caught Son of Malta as he was running back at him and spun him around to deliver the ring-shaking black hole slam! Spade clinched his knee and unleashed a beastly howl to the fans. The King of Monsters then pulled Son of Malta up over the shoulder again …
“No! Damn it! Damn it, damn it all to hell, you useless JAG!” an angry Tockwell shouted.
“Yeah!” yelled Fenton.
The crowd cheered loudly for Warren Spade hooking the legs of Son of Malta!
Another week equated to a second successful defense for Warren Spade who was slowly living up to his mantra as wanting to be a fighting champion all around the world! He sat up and patted Malta on the chest for giving him a good fight even if Malta hadn’t offered that same respect at the start.
“Not bad, Malta.” Said Spade. “Too bad you’re still a prick.”
Spade kneeled himself up and got back to his feet, checking on his bad wheel when Fenton Woods stepped into the ring and raised his shoulders. Jake Tockwell wasn’t through with him at all yet.
“No, no, no! The important people are talking! In Crowd business means you all shut up and listen!”
The celebration for Warren’s second successful defense of the championship wasn’t going on for long at all before Tockwell grinned like he knew something the champion didn’t.
“I’m Jake Tockwell and what I say goes! Warren Spade, what I’m saying is this:”
Tockwell pointed to the back.
“Son of Malta is a capable wrestler, but Big Talk ain’t no idiot, Spade! You big jag, if you think that I didn’t have a Plan B, a Plan C, a Plan D all the way to god-damn Plan Z, then you have another thing coming! See there’s a guy that won the right to face you last night and there’s a man that’s going through a lot of personal crap I would only wish on a festering boil on the ass of life like you! This man’s made no secret that his family ain’t doing so well back home and it may have taken Raul some sweet-talking to get him to agree, but just in case Malta didn’t cut the mustard, I had a plan in my back pocket!”
He gestured to the entrance and waved his hands to the man coming out.
“Spade, let me introduce to you the man that’s already chopped down two former NBW World champions including your BFF Spike Saunders to get this far! Let me introduce you to the man that will make damn sure that Big Talk gets what’s rightfully his and make sure his family has been taken care of …
Reluctantly the Hawaiian Godzilla known as Ohiyama walked out from the back and looked pretty unhappy with the situation as it stood. He was a man known for his morals, but with the death of a loved one back home, something like $250,000 would make him a world of difference. Ohiyama did not look the least bit happy to take up Jake Tockwell on his offer, but it looked like he had cast his lot wit Spade’s mortal enemy.
“Say goodbye to your title you dumb JAG!” said Tockwell with a laugh behind it. “Slam 93 for the biggest strap in NBW … Warren Spade, I’m going to enjoy the big man Ohiyama taking that title from you!”
Ohiyama thus far hadn’t been defeated in singles action and was indeed on the biggest roll of his career. All he could do was stare at Warren Spade and the man standing between him and $250,000 to help take care of family issues.
Warren raised his championship to show Ohiyama what he was in for and the crowd were going to witness a very hard hitting battle in two weeks!
Warren Spade versus Ohiyama for the NBW World championship on Slam 93.
The Bounty Hunter's Gambit
With the main event finished to cap off another exciting episode of Slam, the camera did it’s usual slow fade to blackness that signified the end of the show. But instead of the NBW flashing across the screen, the camera surprisingly faded back in to reveal a street clothes clad Brock Newbludd walking by himself down the corridor that led to the amphitheater’s main lower level exit.
Gym bag slung over his shoulder, Brock was no doubt getting a headstart back to the hotel before the mob of fans that attended the show started pouring out of the stadium. This was unusual for Brock, who usually waited for Sally to finish her EMT duties after the show and more times than not killed the time by mingling with fans and signing autographs.
But, it was obvious from the resentful look on Brock’s face that he was in no mood for waiting around for anyone, or interacting with anyone.
Well, scratch that. There was one man who Brock wanted to interact with, a man who he had searched high and low for the entire night only to come up with nothing in return.
A man who two weeks ago left him in a heap in the middle of the ring on what should have been one of the best nights in his life after winning the 25 to Life match.
A man who then made it clear that he intended to rip Brock’s Legacy title shot away from him.
That man was Benjamin Jones.
Getting closer to the exit, Brock suddenly stopped and reached into the front pocket of his jeans to pull out his vibrating cell phone.
Staring at the phone for a long second, Brock answered it.
“Hey...no, I’m taking off early babe,I might meet Davey and Bedlam at the hotel bar if they’re not dead from drinking ethanol...yeah, like the stuff they put in gas...huh?...no...well, I mean I thought about trying some…”
For the first time since leaving the dressing room earlier in the night to look for Jones, Brock had taken his focus from his surroundings to talk with his girlfriend Sally on the phone.
“Jones?...no, I didn’t find him, but he can’t duck me forever…I’ll find that sonuvabitch...
And with his head no longer on a swivel and his guard completely down, Brock had no chance to react when the man he had been trying to find all night had instead found him.
Benjamin Jones entered the picture to stand behind Newbludd with a smug smile on his face.
“And do what?” Jones asked, and before the wide eyed Newbludd could even react Benjamin grabbed him around the waist…
GERMAN SUPLEX ONTO THE CONCRETE!
Brock hit the concrete in a very bad way! Jones took a good blow himself doing such a move like that, but Benjamin Jones kneeled over and smiled. After not being seen all night on Brock's hunt for the man who prided himself on being The Bounty Hunter, Jones writhed in pain from the impact, but quickly kneeled over, he crawled over to where Newbludd had skittered off the concrete.
The Bounty Hunter got close to where Brock landed. Brock held his back in pain with Jones right in his ear.
"If you want me in that ring, you'll do it at Scorched... and you'll put your 25 To Life rights on the line... or you don't fight me AT ALL."
Jones eventually took a moment to pick himself up off the ground before standing over Brock. After looking mighty proud of his second cheap shot on two consecutive nbW shows, Jones calmly walked away into the night as the show faded to black with the nbW Slam! logo.
Family Briefing - Keegan
Last time on SLAM - Dusty
Unsolved Myatery Opponent - Markus, Dusty, Seth
Teddy Palmer vs Benny Reyes - Gary
MaX-Files: The Invasion - Ernie, Gorman
Restless Fears - Keegan
Are We Allowed to Call People Strange Bedfellows in 2017 - Mitchell
Quinlan & Zed Versus the Xiang Dynasty - Mitchell
Mine's Bigger - Seth
'The Innovator' Brock Newbludd Versus 'Mr. Manx' Charlie Birkin - Gorman
The Hunt Begins - Gorman, Johnny
Big Talk from a Weather Balloon - Markus, Ernie
Ohiyama versus Spike Saunders - Seth
Falconry - Keegan
Get Out - Dusty
Ali Amore versus Little Ricky Strongbern - Keegan
Unstoppables versus Clan Strongbern - Seth
Something in my Throat - Seth
The Entertainers vs VIP & Reyn - Keegan, Shae
Jonny Bedlam: Two Weeks Ago - Johnny
Reason 1 - Keegan
Max Hopper versus Jake Tockwell - Ernie, Markus
Taking One for the Team - Gary
Warren Spade versus Son of Malta - Markus
Bounty Hunter's Gambit - Gorman, Seth