Live from in the Palau Sant Jordi - Barcelona, Spain
From blackness to the backstage area in a re-arranged meeting room, Trent McKnight dressed up to his absolute best pinstripe suit. Standing between two set tables, with chair on the far side of both. One for himself in the center.
“Sir, I think the set here is ready to go for your peace talks.” Keal stated while walking into the scene. Unlike with Harmen, he had no coffee in hand. Just a NBW flag that he was jostling into place as a final touch.
“Tonight’s their final chance at a war, verbally. Before the War Games where it’s all out brutality and physicality. Harmen’s assured me after last week’s attacks on Spade, Malta, Saunders and all out mayhem that ensued, that there will be ZERO conflict tonight at a risk of either team’s own involvement and penalties.”
“I’d volunteer to take their place and all sir, but I have a match of my own…” Keal said with a hint of sadness. “I could cancel it but Harmen would definitely disapprove.”
Trent smiled, “I highly doubt anybody will risk it tonight.”
“Good thing. Then you’re all set so I’m going to head to the office.”
“Forgot something for the Treaty?”
“The other office, sir. I may have indulged in the wrong dinner. Excuse me.”
Like a bat out of hell, Richie race out.
Trent admired his set, “tonight Victory takes a leap forward.”
Cue up the Victory intro!
“Coming up first we have the Drunk Tank facing off against the Prague Drinking Team. My liver is hurting just thinking about it.”
“You’re tellin’ me. This could very well turn into an impromptu game of Edward Fortyhands.”
“What is that?”
“So do you suppose we’ll settle who is the prominent elbow bender in NBW tonight?”
“One more like that, and i quit.”
The ring announcer bellowed, “Introducing first, hailing from Dallas in the great state of Texas, the DRUUNNNK TANK!”
“Drunk Tank” by Drug Church hit the speakers in the arena and the crowd exploded as Jonny Bedlam emerged first from the entrance. Jimmy Houlihan emerged second and the crowd cheered again, though they weren’t as familiar with Jimmy yet. Jonny and Jimmy moved towards the center of the stage and stood back to back. Both men stretched their right arm out horizontally, and then bent their elbow and pulled their arm upwards. The Drunk Tank then moved down the walkway, high-fiving several fans on their way. They entered the ring via slide, then threw their arms up in the air to appeal to the fans.
“Introducing next, from the Czech Republic, the Prague Drinking Team!”
No music preluded the arrival of the Prague Drinking Team as they emerged from the arena side entrance. They pumped their arms upwards into the air a few times and then rushed down the ramp to the ring, and slid under the bottom ropes.
Both teams made their way to their respective corners. Jonny slapped Jimmy on the shoulder and nodded at his friend. Jonny then stepped through the ropes. On the other side, Josef Skala took the lead-off man position and Jan Bosko made his way through the ropes. The referee stood in the middle of the ring and signaled to the timekeeper. The bell rang and Jimmy moved towards Skala. Jimmy looked about the arena as he moved, and drank in the crowd. As large as Jimmy was, he felt tiny before this crowd.
Skala also moved towards Jimmy. Both men were sizing each other up. Jimmy extended his hands outwards, challenging Skala to a test of strength. Skala smirks at Jimmy and obliges him. Jimmy pushes mightily and Skala was scooted backwards. However, Skala gave Jimmy as much as he was given and staggered Jimmy back slightly. The men went back and forth a couple of times. Then, Skala reached out with his leg and swept Jimmy’s leg, knocking the big man to the canvas in a sort of STO.
Jimmy rolled backwards onto his knees and quickly got to his feet. Jimmy charged forwards at Skala and hit the big Czech with a shoulder block. Skala doesn’t fall, but is slightly shaken and knocked to the side. Skala attempted an overhead chop on Jimmy, but struck him on the shoulder rather than the skull. There clearly was some strong contact, but it didn’t jar Jimmy much. Jimmy shoved Skala backwards, and then charged at Skala with another shoulder block, which finally did knock Skala to his back.
Jimmy charged toward Skala and dropped an elbow on Skala’s midsection. Skala doubled forward, but also lifted his knees high and struck Jimmy in the back and the back of the head. The contact wasn’t massive, but enough to make Jimmy move away quickly. Jimmy stood up, but didn’t turn around quickly enough and was struck with a clothesline to the back of his head by Skala. Jimmy stumbled forward, looked slightly disoriented, but looked towards his partner Jonny. Jonny reached his arm out and beckoned to Jimmy. That reoriented Jimmy and he moved towards Jonny. Skala smelled blood in the water though and charged at Jimmy. Skala leaped forward, grabbed the back of Jimmy’s head and hauled him down in a two-handed bulldog, mere feet away from Bedlam’s outstretched arm. Bedlam howled in frustration.
Skala ran towards Bedlam, and pounded his chest. Skala howled at Bedlam.
“Not looking so good for you, you inferior drunkard.”
Skala moved backwards toward his corner, smirking at Jonny. Jimmy, however, seemed to get a rush of energy and got to his knees and moved forward. Jimmy made the tag several seconds before Skala moved to his corner and made the tag to Bosko.
Bedlam thundered through the ropes as Jimmy crawled out of the ring. Bosko was a few steps behind, but charged as well. Bedlam leaped forward and hit Bosko with a vicious spear in the chest, rather than the waist. As Bosko fell, Bedlam rolled forward and smacked Skala across the back of the head. Skala hadn’t yet gotten through the ropes and repositioned himself, and he nearly toppled forward off the apron. Skala steadied himself with the ropes.
Bedlam whirled and turned his attention back on Bosko. Bosko had rolled on to his knees, then pushed himself upwards. Jonny ran forward and attempted a front dropkick to the head of Bosko. This was too early to attempt such a move, though. Bosko moved sideways and grabbed the legs of Bedlam, then slammed him down to the mat as best he could without lifting him up.
Bedlam rolled away. Bosko stood up quickly. Bedlam was on his knees, trying to move towards standing, when Bosko charged and dropped a leg over the back of his neck and head. Bedlam was driven face first into the mat with a thud.
Bosko stood up quickly, then dropped another leg across the back of Jonny’s head. Jimmy had resumed standing in his corner and howled at Jonny’s torment. Jimmy tried to make his way through the ropes, but the ref saw him and warned him not to enter. Jimmy moved back quickly, with a huge scowl.
Bosko lifted Bedlam to his feet slowly. Bedlam looked a little woozy, and Bosko kicked him in the gut. Jonny doubled over and Bosko underhooked both of Bedlam’s arms. Bosko then lifted Bedlam up and attempted a double underhook backbreaker. Bedlam had duped Bosko though, and when Bosko lifted him he kicked upwards with both legs and struck Bosko in the chin. Bosko fell backwards with a sigh and Jonny fell on him as he hit the mat. The crowd hissed at the impact.
Jonny pulled both of Bosko’s legs forward and pinned him. The referee hit the mat and started the count:
Skala kicked Jonny in the ribs and sent him rolling away to break up the count. The referee got up and started to push Skala towards his corner. At the same time, Jimmy ran out of the corner. Skala is being pushed by the ref to the ropes. Jimmy lifts his leg high upwards and hits Skala square in the jaw and lower face with a Yakuza Kick over the referee’s shoulder.
Skala hit the ropes hard and tumbled backwards over them to the outside. The referee is shocked and moves aside quickly. He wonders if he should disqualify Jimmy, but does not since he wasn’t struck. Jimmy hustled out of the ring after Skala.
By this time, Bosko had yanked himself to his feet. His head was still slightly bent forward. Bedlam, stupidly, was enjoying the carnage of Jimmy striking Skala with boots on the outside and not paying attention. Bedlam finally noticed Bosko out of the corner of his eye. He moved toward the Czech and pulled him into a front facelock.
Jonny tried to pull Bosko down into a DDT and the attempt failed. Bosko punched Jonny in the side a couple of times, but Jonny attempted the DDT again. Nothing. Then Bosko showed some gumption and lifted Jonny into the air while still in the front facelock. Bosko used his arm and moved Bedlam across his back with Bedlam’s head at his hip. Bosko dashed forward and dropped Bedlam with a Kryptonite Krunch. Bedlam’s head thudded off the mat and Bedlam went nearly limp.
Jimmy was still outside the ring, now trading blows with Skala, who had a trickle of blood issuing from the side of his mouth. Both of them heard the thud and turned. A panicked look ran its way across Jimmy’s features. Jimmy dove under the bottom rope of the ring, but this was a poor choice. Bosko saw it coming, dashed, and springboarded off the second rope. Bosko turned in the air and brought a leg down on the back of Jimmy’s head. Skala grabbed Jimmy by the legs and yanked him back out to ringside.
Bosko took stock of the situation and quickly hooked a leg on Bedlam. Things looked grim for Bedlam. The referee dropped and began the count:
Bedlam miraculously kicked out, though appeared to go limp again immediately thereafter. Bosko was very frustrated. Bosko pulled Jonny to his feet though. Bedlam appeared to be quite out of it. Bosko charged towards the ropes, bounced off of them and attempted a corkscrew back elbow strike. However, Jonny managed to move out of the way, still clutching his head. The crowd erupted. This does not help Jonny’s head.
Bosko gets back to his feet, more frustrated. Jonny was slightly bent over. Bosko charged and swung a knee upwards….and didn’t connect. Bosko stumbled and turned around to face Bedlam. Bedlam seemed a little more able to stand now. Bosko moved towards him. Bedlam swung his leg up and towards Bosko with all his might and hit him with a roundhouse kick to the side of the head.
Bosko seemed to see butterflies as he spun slowly and fell to the mat. Jonny fell to the mat atop Bosko. The ref started the count as Skala noticed the pin.
Skala slid beneath the ropes
Skala tries to leap and break the pin up.
But doesn’t make it.
The referee called for the bell.
“The winner of the match, via pinfall, DRRRRRRRRRRRUNK TANK!”
I think so Brain, but, "Snowball for Windows?"
Away from public access in the Palau Sant Jordi waited the nBW wrestler more frustrated than any of Catalans in attendance. Sure, his was mainly driven by his self-righteousness more than anything else, but the man wore his against for all to see, half a face at a time.
“Well, get on with it,” barked the impatient Paragon of the Industry, Zed. Missing from the frame was his usual cohort, Rune, who was taken out two weeks ago in Germany by the Handsome Man Modelling School backstage.
“You..” stammered a nervous Sammy “2L3git2Fail” Hale, holding his microphone across his chest. “You asked for this air time. Didn’t even give me time to prepare…”
“Why? Why does this company surround me with such miserable failures. Here, look,” Zed got instructional - and it was physical. Zed of course had to be careful not to be the third person in a week fined for Hale. “You put the microphone here,” he almost knocked a tooth out, jamming it up to Sammy’s mouth. “You ask me a question, and if you do it correctly.. I will give you my time.” Simple, wasn’t it?
“Now, get with the questions.”
“Uhm, okay,” Hale may have been inspired by Zed trying to match the colour of his crimson red mask with the exposed half of his face. “Would you be able to provide us an update on Rune’s health situation?”
Microphone lifted gently toward Zed, and the pause.
“Your first question and you want to know about someone other than me? Fine. Rune was sent home following that cowardly display by Abercrombie and Bitch two weeks ago. His vision has cleared, but he has been diagnosed with a PCL strain.”
Hale retrieved the microphone a second too late and was shot a look. He needed to aim his next question a little closer to the mark, or maybe just start running.
“Can I ask how you are feeling heading into your rematch tonight teaming with Quinlan to take on the HMMS?”
You could see Zed’s eye twitch to remember that he had to have the… help? … of that glory hog, Mitchell Quinlan two weeks ago. That he had been booked to pair with him again tonight? …
“Do you think I really need anyone’s help out there, Hale? I am the Paragon of this very Industry. I am undefeated in 2018. And by this year’s close, I swear to all things Holy and otherwise that I will be at the pinnacle of this company as its rightful champion!”
Zed was priming up the hype engines when Hale got the bright idea to ask, “Didn’t you get tossed out of the WAR Memorial Battle Royal by Quinlan?”
This clearly wasn’t going to get a good response for Zed, and Hale was all too relieved when Zed’s ,”You!?” wasn’t directed to him.
“I heard my name, my apologies,” entered the aforementioned partner for this evening, Mitchell Quinlan.
“No, I need you to understand me,” Zed was pointing with his thumb. “What do you exactly think happened back there in Germany?”
Quinlan shrugged his shoulders, “I will admit that I haven’t watched all of the product while I was out, but I think you may have forgotten. That, my dear boy, was a win. You’re welcome, or whatever.”
Facepalm. Both hands. Doesn’t even matter that the mask had to be readjusted afterwards.
“Are you delusional? Do you think I needed you out there? Do you think I even wanted you out there, stealing MY spotlight?” Good to see Zed being so humble.
“Wait, just when I thought we were able to go on a tear and revolutionize the tag division here in no Brand?” Quinlan chuckled at his own display of sarcasm. He dared to plant his ‘reassuring’ hand on Zed’s shoulder. A move that was made possible by the fact that Hale had conveniently taken his leave the first chance he could get away. “Listen, big guy? We just got to get through tonight.” His hand was still on Zed’s shoulder, despite the obvious glaring. “Once that is done, we can go on our merry ways. You can get back to the plan of global domination you got going on in your head when other people are counting sheep... Ha”
Quinlan finally took his hand back as he passed in front of, and then towards screen right.
“What is so funny?”
“Oh, nah. It’s nothing. Nothing you’d like anyway,” Quinlan continued out of view towards Gorilla.
“No,” Zed was left all alone with the camera on him, “it’d be to easy to kill him right now.”
We parted ways from the backstage as singing could be heard down the hall, “They’re laboratory mice. Their genes have been spliced…”
PAID ADVERT BREAK PLACEMENT HERE
The show was back from a break and inside the ring looking very eager to compete against the former NBW Blitzkrieg and World champion. This was young Yuma Wakaba, a standout from Japan looking to make a mark tonight against the former champion. The crowd in Barcelona gave him a nice cheer as he pumped his fist.
Now out from the back came a man …
But not just any man …
The man … ager for “Big Talk” Jake Tockwell!
“Hot Sauce” Raul Ramirez walked out and the crowd was already all over him, trying to prevent him from talking.
”HOT SAUCE SUCKS! HOT SAUCE SUCKS! HOT SAUCE SUCKS! HOT SAUCE SUCKS! HOT SAUCE SUCKS! HOT SAUCE SUCKS!”
“Well, that’s not very nice,” said Raul. “However … I stopped giving a shit about you people a long time ago. YOUR 2017 Manager of the Year has something to say!”
He pointed to the ring.
“You’re in luck, Barcelona! Tonight, the man who will lead Team Big Talk to Victory will be in action in mere moments! I feel bad for Yuma Wakaba because there is NO way he’s going to beat the man that pinned … yes, that is correct. He pinned Brock Newbludd on Slam and will do it again in the War Games match now that we have the advantage. Now please welcome NBW’s 2017 Villain of the Year and your next NBW World champion when he leads Team Big Talk to victory. Welcome “Sweet Fire” Sally Reynolds and “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 his “Big Talk, Big … You Know The Rest” t-shirt along with his black and gold boas, the six-foot five and two-hundred fifty-four pound loudmouth from Memphis basked in the all the attention he was received. Sally Reynolds took a knee next to him and grabbed his leg as the pyro went off …
The downright tacky and equally flashy golden pyro exploded so many times that you would think the building had turned into a war zone! Tockwell strutted on down to the ring with his title and walked through the ropes with his undeniable swagger. Tockwell had Hot Sauce and Sally Reynolds on either side of him now he looked ready for action …
Tockwell then saw the man in front of him …
And he got drop kicked nearly out of his boots!
Yuma Wakaba was looking to get himself on the winning track and there could no better way to do than by defeating the former NBW World’s champion!
The Talk of the Town had yet to actually get his t-shirt off of himself and Wakaba grabbed his black set of boas and waved it around like it was a toy.
“OLE! OLE! OLE!” yelled Wakaba.
Sally and Hot Sauce were both surprised by the sudden flurry of offense by Wakaba. When Tockwell was trying to stand Yuma struck him on the jaw with a stiff thrust kick that struck Big Talk on his jaw and sent him right into the corner.
The running spinning heel kick in the corner followed and it stunned Tockwell while Yuma stunned and then skinned the cat to get back in the ring.
“Baby, you can beat him!” yelled Sally.
The gorgeous former head EMT of NBW watched Tockwell get in danger as Yuma Wakaba fired himself off of the top rope and fired a front missile drop kick from the top rope. Yuma was on fire!
”YUMA! YUMA! YUMA! YUMA! YUMA! YUMA! YUMA!”
Tockwell’s shirt was still on when Yuma looked back to see Big Talk about to get back up. But not for long.
Yuma landed a knee strike right between the eyes of Big Talk and laid him flat on his back. He jumped back to the middle rope came back with a springboard moonsault!
Yuma could make his career tonight with a win!
But Tockwell kicked out and spoiled that dream.
The referee removed his boas and Yuma now waited to climb to the top rope. If he could land his Kinetic Orbital Strike finisher that might be the end of it …
But the Talk of the Town blocked that and threw his black boa at him. The distraction was enough for Tockwell to grab Yuma and chuck him off the top to spike him on the mat!
The young Japanese superstar held his back and he limped to his feet when Tockwell grabbed him from behind and dropped Yuma with a huge backdrop suplex. After turning the tables and waiting for Yuma to sit up, Tockwell fired back on him.
When he fired off a running knee lift he knocked Wakaba right over. He went for the cover on Wakaba now.
And a kick out!
The crowd cheered on Wakaba as he continued to hold his hand out, almost like he was daring Big Talk to bring the fight to him. The Talk of the Town pulled Yuma back up by his arm …
TALK TO THE HAND~!!!
… and he dropped him with a massive sucker punch!
Wakaba simply collapsed to a knee and fell backwards but Tockwell didn’t let go of his arm. He pulled Wakaba up right into …
OUT OF BREATH~!!!
The crowd still tried rallying behind Wakaba, but he had little to no fight before his arm started to go limp. Tockwell continued choking him with his sleeper hold. The arm was lifted once … then twice … then three times.
Tockwell threw Wakaba down to the mat and then dusted off the shirt he still had on. Big Talk raised his arm and as the winner of tonight’s match, he proved that he was more than ready for the amazing War Games match.
“Let me introduce your winner … and the leader of Team Big Talk! The man that lead us all into a better tomorrow for NBW! JAKE! TOCKWELL!”
Big Talk then raised his arms out. He spiraled around and celebrated before he leaned Sally and kissed her. Hot Sauce then talked to a certain somebody.
“Oh … and Brock, we’ll leave you alone tonight to ponder how screwed you and your team are … but we found somebody that wants to say hi and you’ll probably see him later.”
Tockwell patted Yuma on the shoulder and then the group left.
In regards to Brock Newbludd what were they talking about?
Dynasty (The Belts, Not The TV Show...)
“Well, coming up next, I understand that we’re going to have Ravage and Vic Gravender explain their actions, interrupting a Dynasty Tag Team Title match between Clan Strongbern and The Rich Family on Slam, not to mention attacking them and stealing the Dynasty Tag Team Titles!”
“Isn’t it obvious, Adria?” Bernie snapped. “R-E-S-P-E-C-T. More than just a catchy song.”
“There’s a MILLION ways that Ravage and Vic Gravender can go about it, but they way they’ve been conducting themselves since forming this dangerous alliance has been nothing short of disrespectful to everybody else. They tirelessly flaunt how many titles they’ve won and then turn around and say nbW has given them nothing.”
“Nothing LATELY, Adria,” he corrected, “because opportunities have been going to all kinds of other stars. Jonny Bedlam, Brock Newbludd, Clan Strongbern, Jake Tockwell, Warren Spade, Spike Saunders, and the list goes on.”
“Well, nevertheless, they’re gonna be out here any…”
“Wanted Man” by Rev Theory.
The music of the men currently in posession (but not the reigning!) Dynasty Tag Team Championships walk out from the back with stolen property.
Ravage and Vic shot an understanding glance at one another and bumped fists before the two embittered nbW veterans made their walk towards the ring. They paid zero attention to the loud chorus of jeers they were getting for the moment as they approached the ring, surveying the crowd.
“All right, cut the damn music, we’ve got something to say,” Ravage said.
The music faded out as the two men entered the ring with the belts and flaunted them. Ravage snarled toward the camera.
“Two weeks ago on Victory 8, these titles were OURS. And then what happened? The Rich Family got involved in our shit. Go ahead, some idiot making minimum wage in the production truck, go ahead and play that footage we gave you!”
Vic and Ravage pointed at the VictoryTron and footage played…
FROM VICTORY 8:
Simon Brack was gone.
Because “THE FIRST” FREDDIE RICH pulled him of the ring and SOCKED the official!
DING DING DING DING DING!
The bell was called for and this was clearly going to be a disqualification because right behind Freddie, Donny, Declan and Todd Rich all ran forward and got into fights with Little Ricky and Ri-Khan Strongbern at ringside!
Clan Strongbern looked to have this match won, but The Rich Family had been their enemies since their grand return at Slam 100 when they staked a claim to the titles! Ravage was on the outside, watching the fights unfold between the two stables that had spilled all over the European tour. Big Rick saw Freddie Rich and leaped out from the ring…
Big Rick landed right into Freddie Rich on the outside and then attacked him with right hands! Both of those men were on opposite sides of the larger Team Newbludd/Team Big Talk War Games match later on this month, but the war between The Rich Family and Clan Strongbern was bordering on personal!
The crowd jeered as Ravage continued.
“We had those Clan Strongbern dipshits beat and The Rich Family horn in on our turf? What did you idiots do to earn that title shot other than attack and harass Clan Strongbern for weeks? NOTHING! We WON their dumbass vanity tournament to GET that shot.”
“Yeah,” Vic added. “What the fuck gives?”
Ravage shook his head and spat on the mat with disgust as his temper started to flare.
“It goes back to the same thing, Vic… DISRESPECT. It’s all we get here these days in nbW despite being two of its most tenured, decorated AND celebrated athletes.”
“Preach,” Vic said dryly.
Ravage held up the belts.
“We have these belts now because WE are the uncrowned Dynasty Tag Team Champions and WE don’t give a shit what little family feud Clan Strongbern and The Rich Family have going on. That match on Slam should NOT have happened because WE - the rightful champs - didn’t sanction it, did we, Vic?”
“So you can strike that match from the record, Harmen, because it didn’t happen. Now… Savage Badassery are fighting champs, so WE are going to be taking these titles! And with this belt, I am now the FIRST ever man to complete nbW’s Grand Slam! Clan Strongbern don’t know what they’re talking about… *I* am the one that has all the gold and bitches now!”
Vic slapped a hand Ravage’s shoulder.
“My man, you did it! Come on, assholes, clap for this man! Give him your respect! Kneel on the ground he walks on and kiss his feet!”
The booing only grew louder as Ravage mockingly held the Dynasty Tag Team Title in the air and walked in “slow motion” through an imaginary banner across a finish line. The antics stopped.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
The voice belonged to the leader of The Rich Family coming out now as Freddie Rich stepped out from the back with the entire Family in tow. Donny, Declan, and Todd each stood at his side while the man known as The First gritted his teeth.
“We staked our claim to those belts while the two of you were wallowing career limbo,” Freddie said coldly. “Before you even thought of this useless alliance the two of you have going on. Vic, why don’t you make yourself useful and tell Ravage what it’s like to mess with The Rich Family. Or did you forget how many times we left The Unstoppables laying?”
Vic smirked. “Funny… I remember having three Dynasty Tag Title matches with different members of your sorry-ass little litter up there and I remember that you went… 0-3. That sound right?”
Freddie quietly chuckled. “Yeah, but you traded down for a partner and you’re hardly looking, quote “unstoppable” these days. And since you’re about numbers, here’s one for you…”
The Rich Family started to swarm the ringside area slowly, each man taking a side of the ring. Freddie stepped on the ring apron first to look his rivals in the face with The Rich Family now surrounding the ring.
“Four on two.”
Ravage put up his guard and Vic brandished his stolen half of the tag titles like a weapon.
“LET’S GET THESE MOTHERFUCKERS!”
That unmistakably loud booming voice could only belong to one man…
BIG RICK STRONGBERN!
And right behind him, coming through the crowd were Rik Bonebreaker-Strongbern, Little Ricky Strongbern, and Ri-Khan Strongbern all ready to fight!
Big Rick and Ri-Khan hit the ring and now got into fights with Savage Badassery!
Rik and Little Ricky jumped into battle and now the two of them jumped on the members of The Rich Family. Donny tried to stop the Bonebreaker, but Rik CHUCKED Donny right into the barricade! Declan tried to cut off Little Ricky, but the seven-footer shoved him back…
THE LITTLE BIG BOOT!
Cats marrying dogs!
And the crowd was loving it!
Big Rick and Ravage laid into one another with forearms while Vic and Ri-Khan traded shots on another side of the ring. Ravage tried to elbow Big Rick in the head, but Big Rick ducked and fired back with a Release German Suplex! Ravage rolled backwards and when he crept up to his feet in a daze, Big Rick drilled him with a Running Shoulder Block knocking him through the ropes and out to the floor!
The blow sent Ravage packing from the ring just as Ri-Khan fired a huge high kick to the head of Vic Gravender! When he wobbled against the ropes, Ri-Khan charged and landed a Spinning Wheel Kick that knocked the big man out of the ring!
Clan Strongbern were now holding court in the middle of the ring and Big Rick made sure to grab their stolen titles before he grabbed a microphone. The Rich Family were going one way and Savage Badassery were on the outside, screaming bloody murder at the fact they’d been shown up by the champions.
“ALL RIGHT, ASSHOLES, CLOSE YOUR DICKHOLES AND OPEN YOUR NOISE-HOLES BECAUSE I’M ONLY GONNA SAY THIS ONCE. RICH FAMILY, WE’RE SICK OF YOU SORRY BITCHES TRYING TO RUN IN ON OUR TURF.”
He then pointed at Savage Badassery.
“AND WE’RE SICK OF YOU TWO. FOR A PAIR OF GUYS WHO’VE BEEN WORLD CHAMPIONS, YOU SOUND LIKE A COUPLE OF PUSSIES TO ME.”
Now back to the Dynasty Tag Team Titles.
“IF BOTH OF YOU WANT A FIGHT, MY BOYS ARE GONNA GIVE YOU THAT FIGHT! FREDDIE, I’VE GOT YOUR ASS AT WAR GAMES, BUT RIK AND LITTLE RICKY HERE ARE GONNA LAY OUT A CHALLENGE!”
Big Rick handed the microphone to Rik, who looked around at the two potential challengers for the Dynasty Tag Team Titles.
“You chumps want these belts so bad? We’re not lying when we say we’re gonna fight everybody in the damn universe. It’s on our new Clan Strongbern tee. See?”
Rik turned his back for a quick cheap plug of the new army-themed Clan Strongbern shirt that did read “We’ll fight everybody in the damn universe!” with Big Rick’s ugly mug flexing his arms in an Uncle Sam-esque pose.
“Since everybody wants in our business,” Rik said, “then we’ll make this simple if you all want these belts. At Gods Versus Titans, we want Clan Strongbern versus Savage Badassery versus The Rich Family for the Dynasty Tag Team Titles! If you want these belts, then try and take ‘em!”
Ravage and Vic looked across to The Rich Family and then back at Clan Strongbern.
“We accept!” Ravage shouted. “We’re taking those belts and I’m gonna be the first Grand Slam champion in nbW!”
“You guys?” Little Ricky asked. “You’ve been coming after us at every turn so here’s your chance to man up or shut up. What’s it gonna be?”
Todd grabbed the microphone from Freddie and yelled.
“You’re on!” Todd shouted.
Little Ricky nodded.
“Good… but I just thought of something. I’m not going through this crap anymore where the two of you run in on our matches. I’ll make the match one better… I say if all of you are game, we make this ELIMINATION RULES!”
The crowd popped at that!
Ravage and Vic Gravender nodded and Todd and Declan nodded in agreement as well.
“We’ll see you at Gods Versus Titans,” Freddie said. “And Big Rick… what happened at Slam is just a taste of what’s in store for you when we meet in War Games. Team Newbludd is FINISHED.”
Big Rick waved a hand at The Rich Family as the foursome departed up the ramp. But Ravage and Vic Gravender weren’t going anywhere and in fact, Ravage growled.
“Whoa, whoa, Big Rick,” Ravage said, still angry what transpired moments ago. “That’s Gods Versus Titans, but we’re not done tonight. You think that you’re hot shit because you won the WAR Memorial Cup and you attacked me tonight?”
Big Rick rolled his eyes at Ravage and… whoops, forgot to mention… YES, the trophy was out there. Why he carried it, no idea. But it was there in full display by the ring.
“THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE WRONG… I KNOW I’M HOT SHIT, BUT THANKS FOR NOTICING.”
A smirk crossed the small powerhouse’s face while Ravage snarled.
“You won a trophy… good for you. But I bet that I could take you out right now before you even got to War Games.. And what do I have to lose? We got our Tag Title match AND you’ve never beaten me, Rick. So what say you? I can take a few extra minutes to kick your ass.”
The King of Strongbern Style looked at his loyal followers and laughed.
“THIS FUCKIN’ GUY, HAHAHAHA... “ Strongbern turned around to face Ravage. “LET’S DO IT. AND I’LL DO YOU ONE BETTER… YOU SEND VIC TO THE BACK AND I’LL SEND MY GUYS OUT OF HERE… ONE ON ONE!”
An impromptu match was about to take place! Rik, Little Ricky and Ri-Khan both looked at their leader and wondered if this was worth it, but Big Rick saw their face and waved a hand at them.
“GO. I GOT THIS.” Big Rick said.
Vic looked at Ravage and shrugged before heading to the back, followed shortly by the rest of Clan Strongbern. Gods Versus Titans was coming up with a huge Dynasty Tag Team Title match added, but now Big Rick Strongbern was going to go one on one with Ravage after this break!
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After a brief commercial break, referee Slim J ran down to ringside and got in between Ravage and Big Rick Strongbern, and both men looked ready to tear into one another following what happened before the break.
“No WAY that Clan Strongbern walks out of Gods Versus Titans with the Dynasty Tag Titles!” Bernie Vaughn said. “These guys have made many enemies since issuing challenges left and right! They’ve got The Rich Family ready to win their first titles! They’ve got two former nbW World Champs to contend with. They’re toast!”
“Maybe they’re a bit proud,” Adria said, “some might call it hubris, but one thing you can’t take away from Clan Strongbern is that they want to fight to prove they’re the best collection of talent nbW has ever seen and with accolades like 2017 Tag Team of the Year and 2017 Tag Team Match of the Year, nobody can deny they’ve become popular breakout stars!”
“Maybe… but now Ravage is about to fight Big Rick and the last time these two fought… Slam 84, to be precise… Ravage defeated him.”
“That he did, but now can Big Rick score a big singles victory on his way to represent Team Newbludd for War Games or will Ravage gain momentum for himself leading into his Dynasty Tag Team Title match?”
To the ring now with Amelia Roberts.
“The following is a singles match set for one fall!” She said. “Already in the ring, weighing in at 230 pounds… from Bismarck, North Dakota… RAVAGE!”
The former nbW World, Keystone and Blitzkrieg Champion pointed at Big Rick and slashed a thumb across his throat.
“And his opponent, also in the ring… from Los Angeles, California, weighing in at 240 pounds. Representing Clan Strongbern… he is the 2018 WAR Memorial Cup Winner… BIG RICK STRONGBERN!
Big Rick let out a loud howl and pumped a fist in the air as the crowd cheered the powerhouse. Both men walked toward one another. Both men equal height at 5’9”, but definitely not cruiserweights by any means. The two went nose to nose, trying to intimidate the other before Slim J called for the bell…
DING DING DING!
...No, this was not a reunion of a British band that liked to wake up people before they go-go. This was Ravage and Big Rick Strongbern throwing right hands at one another just as the bell rang!
The crowd cheered as the two men tore into one another with rights for a good fifteen seconds of the match. They continued to throw blows until it was Ravage who made his first dirty move, blocking a punch and then firing back with a kick to the gut. He doubled Big Rick over and slammed him into the turnbuckle face-first before going wild with more right hands.
“This is MY ring and nobody else’s!” Ravage shouted.
He then pressed a foot down into the throat of the slightly stronger Big RIck and then continued to choke him with the boot until Slim J got in the thick of it. He ordered Ravage to break it off, but when he didn’t, he began a count.
“Do it now! One! Two! Three! Four…”
Ravage backed off and then pointed a hand at Slim J, the universal symbol for “I’m going to bitchslap into next week if you get in my way.” After glaring daggers at the official, he pulled BIg Rick up and shot him across the ring with a huge Irish Whip. Ravage charged in…
...But got cut off with a Running Shoulder Block out of the corner by Rick!
Big Rick let out another howl as he started to get back up to his feet, then shot Ravage into the corner. He followed him in and CRACKED him across the chest with a big Corner Clothesline, but that wasn’t enough. Big Rick ran back to the opposite corner, only to come back and blast him in the chest with a second Corner Clothesline! The back to back blows made Ravage stumble and then Big Rick struck him with another one, sending him over the top rope all the way out to the floor!
The fans chanted his name as he stood his ground in the ring, pacing around like he owned the joint. Following the series of blows that rattled the former nbW World Champion, Big Rick got himself positioned in ring.
What was he going for, you ask?
The powerhouse crashed through the ropes and knocked Ravage across the barricade!
Strongbern rolled off of Ravage and continued to lay into the former multiple-time champion with a succession of hard Clubbing Blows to the chest before grabbing the back of his head and smacking him against the ring apron. The blow knocked Ravage loopy and next thing he knew, he was being thrown back inside the ring.
After a quick offensive start by Ravage, Big Rick was now holding the advantage and this was definitely a different Big Rick than the one he fought a couple years ago for the right to meet Brock Newbludd at a PPV. He was even stronger now physically and seemed to almost be willed by the people to fight harder.
Big Rick pulled Ravage up and spit on his hand…
A trifecta of PAINFUL Knife-Edge Chops caught Ravage across the chest and he was doubled over in pain. Things went from bad to worse for one of the contenders to the Dynasty Tag Titles as he got put down with a Body Slam. Big Rick ran off the ropes and followed up with a Jumping Senton across the chest!
The wind was knocked out of Ravage’s chest as Big Rick crawled over and went for a cover now.
Big Rick stood up right after that and looked like he was about to deliver another one, but before he could make the jump, Ravage rolled outside the ring again.
The crowd called out Ravage for his hasty retreat after all the bluster he threw before the match. The Savage of the Ring took a few seconds to catch his breath, only for Big Rick to follow him out again and clock him in the back with a Double Sledge. In the middle of the aisle, he turned to drop Ravage with what looked like a Vertical Suplex…
Ravage blocked it and fired back…
SUPLEX ONTO THE RAMP!
The blow took a bit out of both men. Ravage was holding his back in pain, but Big Rick got the worst of it so a happy Ravage now rolled away and started to catch his breath after the beating he took.
“Not bad… but I told you, I’m better, asshole,” Ravage said.
He walked over to Big Rick and then threw him toward the ring apron before he climbed back up with him. When it looked like he was going to go for something big like throwing him back in the ring, he instead grabbed Big Rick by the neck…
DDT ON THE RING APRON!
Two big creative moves later and now Big Rick was flat on the outside of the ring not moving! Ravage sat up after a few moments from the fall and then rolled back into the ring, ordering Slim J to do his job and count out BIg Rick.
“Count him out! Go on, do it!”
The count-out continued now as a flustered Big Rick started to sit up and hold his head in pain.
He noticed the count and Ravage was yelling at him to count faster.
But Big Rick wasn’t letting it go down like this…
And he JUST made it…
But Ravage quickly ran in and struck Big Rick across the head with a big kick! After stumbling him with the big kick, he laid into The Big Lad with a few right hands and then a whip to the ropes…
The quick Powerslam planted Big Rick and now Ravage with the cover.
Big Rick’s shoulder came up at two and a half, but Ravage wasn’t done. The Savage of the Ring picked him up and pinned him into the corner before he began to let loose with a series of hard Chops and punches to the chest and head respectively. After the big set of moves he quickly grabbed Big Rick and snapped him over with another big Belly to Belly Suplex, planting him again.
The shoulder came up again, so Ravage decided he was going to end this match. He stood up and booted Big Rick a few times before pointing up top. He was going for his Frog Splash variation called The Cannonball, which had won him many of the titles he liked to boast frequently. Ravage was up top…
He grinned at the crowd and then threw the double tall man to Big Rick…
BUT HE WAS BACK UP!
Strongbern sat up in a daze and stumbled right into a punch to the head of Ravage. The blow stumbled him and Big Rick started to climb up the ropes. Both men were in a precarious position and nobody knew what Big Rick was going to do… half the time, he didn’t either. But what did happen was not what people thought it would be…
TOP ROPE RICKENSTEINER!
He hit the move perfectly and Ravage went skittering more than halfway across the canvas! It took Big Rick a few seconds to get his bearings but he went for a cover on The Savage of the Ring.
TH… FOOT ON THE ROPE!
Big Rick thought he had it won, but Ravage was the wise vet and saved himself from certain defeat! Strongbern argued with the official for a moment before he climbed over to pick up Ravage. He delivered a painful series of Clubbing Blows to the back of the North Dakota native and then pulled him up… TORTURE RACK, SUCKA!
The diminutive dynamo had that sucker locked in and tried to work out the back of Ravage. He cranked back on the hold, but Ravage quickly turned the tables on that by locking his own arms around the neck of Big Rick in Sleeper Hold-esque fashion to get him to let go!
Ravage slid out the back and then went to roll Big Rick up with a School Boy!
Big Rick shot up…
STRONG-ARM LAR… NO!
Ravage ducked the Lariat and even pushed Big Rick into the ropes only take him down with a Snap German Suplex! After the sudden release of the move, Ravage sat up and then delivered a Running Clothesline of his own that knocked Big Rick into the ground!
The cover followed!
Ravage angrily shoved his way right past Slim J after the failed cover and decided now was the time to finish things for good. He hooked the arm of Big Rick, and then another. He was looking for the Double-Arm DDT he called Greatness and if this hit, it was lights out…
BACK BODY DROP BY RICK!
He SURGED his way out on sheer power alone and then waited as Ravage started to get back to his feet. He grabbed his head and ran Ravage off to the corner, slamming right into him with a big Spear to the midsection. After the wind got knocked out of him, Ravage was standing on spaghetti legs when he held both arms out next to Ravage’s side…
He struck him across the back with a big Clubbing Forearm from the right side, then the left, and repeated about three or four times before he hooked him for another Torture Rack… but not a submission…
We’re keeping it classy here, but you can probably imagine what the F stands for and it was a big Argentine Coaster (Inverted DVD Faceplant) that rocked Ravage! Big Rick made the cover now.
The former multiple-time champion proved why he was such after kicking out of one of Big Rick’s best moves, but the 2018 WAR Memorial Cup winner threw off the elbow pad on his right hand.
“YOU’RE DONE, SON!” he shouted.
Ravage just barely had enough to kick out of the F-Hammer, but Big Rick went swinging for the fences. He ran and clocked Ravage in the back of the head with a Running Forearm, and then ran off the ropes after he stumbles…
The home run swing connected and Ravage nearly spun right out of his boots! But that wasn’t all.
Big Rick yelled and then hooked the arm of Ravage as he was wobbly and scooped him up right into a VICIOUS Scoop Brainbuster he called…
THE BIG LAD BUSTER!
The leader of Clan Strongbern hooked the leg.
Big Rick sat up and literally dusted his own hands together before sitting back up to his feet, happy with what was no doubt a HUGE victory. Now that Big Rick was intent on trying to do things his way in-ring, the young powerhouse sat up and beat on his chest with his arm raised by Slim J.
A defeated Ravage rolled out of the ring holding his neck, but he would be ready in time to challenge Clan Strongbern for the Dynasty Tag Team Titles.
As for right now… Big Rick was the big victor and with this momentum heading into the War Games match with Team Newbludd, even with Team Big Talk having the man advantage, Big Rick was confident in their chances.
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‘Confident’ by Demi Lavoto.
The fans half-cheered and half-jeered the arrival of Michelle Couli, however the half turned to full as Zhalia Fears walked out behind her and right up to the right barricade of fans for some photos. Cast gone, arm still in sling with the medical tape quite evident, she was still as chipper as ever.
“Up next we have a bit of a rematch or even repeat of the debut of Michelle’s opponent at SLAM’s sixty second episode.” Adria remarked while Vaughn yauned.
“Couli beat her then, and she’ll do it again tonight. Payback for talking crap on her last week.”
Michelle walked up the steps and on inside, waiting in the corner.
'Emerald Sword' by Rhapsody.
Lady Luxx bound out to the delight of the fans. Happy to see her make her in-ring return to singles action at last. Luxx and Zhalia hugged at the top of the ramp while Couli shook her head in disgust in the ring mouthing ‘really?’. Luxx sprinted the ramp and dove under the ropes before taking to her corner. Fears walking to the bottom of the rampway herself.
The two stared on across at one another while the official, Simon Brack, readied to ring the bell.
“Here we go Bernie!”
The crowd murmured and booed in the darkness. Everyone knew why.
The lights returned with Luxx and Couli back to back, both facing one of the Hellion Sisters wielding a set of steel chairs. It was a stand off and Lucretia was present in the corner. All they needed was the signal to attack.
Zhalia sat on the barricade, microphone waving in the air at the ring, before returning it to her bad arm’s hand.
“Lucretia, you really are predictable.” She grinned, and held her other hand up in the air. “Watch.”
She wasn’t going to wait. Lucretia cut her fingers across her throat and the sisters attacked.
Snap of the fingers by Zhalia.
The sound of metal on flesh and fists filled the air before the lights in the house returned. Couli and Luxx were down against the ropes with the Sisters in control, however behind them stood a woman holding a kendo stick.
“Hikari’s here!” Adria yelled into her headset just as the woman snapped the kendo across the back of Melantha, the taller of the sisters, snapping it in half. And crossing the air with a single leg dropkick to Circe. Now with both pieces of the split kendo stick she attacked the two women, hit for hit, neither had a chance to put up a guard as the agile and quick woman went to work. Strike after strike. Target, anything exposed. Four, six, twelve, seventeen, twenty two. Strike after strike in rapid succession.
Damage dealt, the two were deposited through the ropes to the outside with the help of Couli and Luxx, leaving Lucretia alone with Couli and Lux, and their savior. Who was far from unarmed.
“As I said. Pre-dict-able.” Zhalia smirked, “Michelle had this idea that you would not ignore a chance to catch her off guard so we made sure that her little tantram got filmed at SLAM. We knew that would get your attention and what do you know... it worked.”
By now Lucretia had backed out of the ring, taking to the steps as all focus was on her while Sora held ground in case of a receipt.
“We are short for time here Lucretia, as Gods versus Titans is just around the corner. And you have ducked our every move. Our every match. Avoided getting what is coming to you - well, I finally figured out how to get you in that ring.”
Fears wasn’t much of a talker. By far she usually let her friends and allies do that work for her but at the moment they were in that ring, where she wanted to be.
“What I have to say is more formality than a request. See I talked to Uncle Jack, well MJ’s Uncle Jack at any rate, and got this okayed last week. At the pay per view those three, and myself because by gosh I will be cleared for this… are going to face you Lucretia, and the sisters of bad, and your Police Academy fake Mastermind Mayor on the screen reject.”
The fans cheered, however most knew that it wasn’t going to happen.
“Show or do not show like usual. It will be four on four, four on three, four on two. It will not matter, as this will be a series of matches. One on one. One after the other. The winners will fight each other in a final team match.” she shifted her focus ringside to Melantha and Circe, “you two have no real choice in the matter. As contracted talent, if you fail to show … well Uncle Jack said he would fire one of you, or both.”
Lucretia laughed at ringside, as the Hellion Sisters now walked over and joined her. No longer feeling the effects of the kendo’s. Upset about that news.
“If you need a better incentive to stick around Lucretia, Jack said the winning team will guarantee their name in the talks for a future Women's championship division discussion with the bigwigs.” She paused while the fans responded. “And while there is only the seven of us really to make that division, I know according to Michelle, that that is something you would most want Lucretia. Gold.”
The masked woman nodded as the three approached the ring once more. Couli and Luxx were in fighting stances while Sora looked ready to strike the first set of hands to touch the ropes.
“We will take that as a yes. Not that there was much choice. At Gods Versus Titans, they can have their War Games. We are taking this to an all out Guild War.”
Fears tossed the microphone over to the ramp, before hopping down from the barricade and walking the right side of the ringside, while Lucretia led the Hellion Sisters around the left side toward the ramp.
That’s right. They were leaving, on foot, in clear view, for once. The trio continued up the ramp while Lucretia nabbed the microphone.
Her sight on the Epicenter in front of her, which focused on the four at the ring.
“Predictability, slime, works both ways.” Lucretia hooked her throat with her two fingers as she was prone to do for her gesture, “Our master… is already headed to Athens.” She kept on walking up the ramp while chucking the microphone back over her shoulder. Never once turning around to focus on the rest.
It took awhile to get to it but it was now official. 4 on 4, singles series. A guild war... whatever that is. GvT II. Order it now!
Hot Sauce's Hitman
Shifting on backstage, the camera faded in to show the always bubbly NBW interviewer, Veronica Hoyt, standing in front of the Victory interview backdrop. Smiling warmly at the camera, she raised the microphone she was holding up to address the live crowd and those watching at home.
“Welcome back to Victory!” she exclaimed. “Joining me at this time to give their final thoughts before their big showdown with Team Tockwell at Gods vs. Titans is none other than NBW World Heavyweight Champion, Brock Newbludd, and the ‘coach’ of his team, ’Fat Tuesday’ Davey LaRue!”
With a loud roar from the crowd erupting in the background, the world champion walked in to stand to the left of Hoyt. Still sporting a moustache, Newbludd adjusted the title belt on his shoulder and grinned at Veronica, who quickly averted her eyes away from the champion’s lip broom.
It was obvious she didn’t want to fall under another mysterious, moustache induced, spell like she did when she spoke with Brock and Davey on the last episode of Victory.
A few seconds later, LaRue entered from the opposite side that Brock had, taking his place next to Hoyt’s right. Thinking the same thing as her, Davey was wearing, of all things, a surgical mask so that his mighty crumb catcher was covered up.
“Dis is fa ya own protection cher,” the wily Cajun said as Hoyt glanced at the mask he was wearing.
“Well...I...I appreciate that Davey,” she replied, looking relieved.
“We didn’t want to have to lock you in a closet again for an hour,” Newbludd chimed in, causing Veronica’s cheeks to redden slightly.
“How about we just get to the questions guys?” she asked as she shook her head, obviously not wanting to dig into the subject of her lustful meltdown any further.
Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, Newbludd nodded his head and shot a grin over to his friend. While the mask may have covered his mouth, it was clear from the look in Davey’s eyes that he was slightly enjoying giving Veronica a ribbing.
“Shoot, Veronica,” Newbludd said.
Clearing her throat, Veronica turned slightly towards Newbludd.
“Brock, the road to Gods vs. Titans is coming to an end, and…”
Hoyt was suddenly cut off when Newbludd’s eyes widened in shock as he looked over her to lock eyes with LaRue.
“What the fuck!?” Brock blurted out as he raised a finger, pointing off camera behind a now confused Davey.
“Behind you, Davey!”
Spinning around, LaRue’s eyes turned into saucers and he instinctively threw his hands up in front of his face…
Just before a steel chair came crashing down towards him, courtesy of one ’Deadly’ Erick Davies!
While he may have gotten his hands up to protect his face from getting flattened, the blow still caused Davey to stumble backwards into Veronica, who in turn stumbled into Newbludd. Not wanting the young interviewer to get in harm’s way, Brock grabbed her before she could fall to the floor.
Reeling from the impact of the chair hitting him, Davey dropped down to one knee as Davies fully entered the picture. Raising the chair high above his head, the madman let out a guttural laugh.
“Big Talk and Hot Sauce send their regards fat man!” he screamed down to LaRue, before bringing the chair down with everything he had.
Newbludd blocked the chair at the last second with the world title belt!
Down on one knee, Brock did his best Captain America impersonation as he held his world title belt up like a shield as an angry Davies continued to push down with the chair.
“I don’t think so, Davies, you crazy sonuvabitch!” Newbludd sneered up Tockwell’s would be assassin.
Letting out a primal roar, Davies brought the chair back up and slammed it down again onto the world title belt.
“DAMN YOU NEWBLUDD!” he yelled out in frustration as Brock lunged upwards to push the lunatic back.
“No, damn YOU!” Brock spat back. “You fucked up, Erick, and now I’m going to send a message to those two assholes who hired you by beating your ass right HERE and right NOW!”
Taking a step back away from the world champion, Davies tightened his grip on the steel chair and smiled when his eyes fell upon the world title belt.
“I like that shiny belt, Brock,” the unhinged Davies said as he licked his lips in a disturbing manner.
Glancing at the belt in his hands, Newbludd cocked an eyebrow at Davies.
“I bet you do,” the champion said back, as he gripped the belt with both hands.
Behind Brock and still down on one knee, Davey tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head as he crawled away from danger.
“I won’t stop until the job is done, LaRue!” Davies spat out as he watched the injured LaRue crawl away.
“You’re going to stop after I bust your face open on the concrete, asshole!” Newbludd fired back.
“And you know what!?” the world champion asked Davies, flashing him a sadistic grin of his own.
“If you like this shiny belt so much, why don’t you try and take it from me!?”
Brock then glanced behind him to a visibly shaken Veronica.
“Veronica, go run and get me a ref!” he barked. “We’re gonna have ourselves a title match...and it starts NOW!”
With that, Newbludd charged in towards Davies as the lunatic raised the chair up!
For the second time in his career, the first being a bloody brawl over the Blitzkrieg title that took place in the backstage catering area over a year ago, Brock Newbludd was putting a NBW championship on the line against Erick Davies in an impromptu backstage street fight!
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The fight was on, and it didn’t start with the customary bell ring. Instead it started off with a much different sound…
Putting pressure on the man who had been tasked with taking out the coach of his WarGames team, Newbludd attempted to smash the world title belt into Davies face but Erick was able to deflect each attack with the steel chair he held in his hands.
The two men continued to battle each other with the makeshift weapons as they worked their way away from the interview backdrop. With the double doors that lead to the adjacent hallway at Davies back, Newbludd switched gears by dropping the title belt and charging in at Davies as he raised the chair up…
Getting underneath Erick before he could bring the chair down, the world champion wrapped his arms around him as he pumped his legs forward, causing the two to crash through the doors and spill out onto the floor of the hallway!
Getting tackled through the doors had caused Davies to lose his grip on the chair as he smacked hard back first against the concrete floor. On top of him, Newbludd immediately rose up to start firing fists at his face.
Around them, the various NBW staff who were only seconds before going about their normal routine now scattered to get away from the violence. Though one man was being drug towards the two fighting men by a recovered Davey LaRue.
Referee Tal Nedrick.
Reaching the two, Nedrick’s first action was locating the world championship belt and handing it to Davey before telling the coach of Team Newbludd to back away from the two combatants. LaRue obliged the veteran referee and grinned in satisfaction as he watched his friend unleashing with hammer strikes to the head of the man who had almost nearly sent him to the hospital.
Then that smile was quickly erased from his face when Davies managed to shoot a hand up at Brock and gouge him in the eye!
Grabbing his eye, Brock rolled off of Davies and tried to create some distance from him by walking down the hallway. Shaking off the barrage of fists that he had just absorbed, Davies scrambled to his feet and caught up with Brock to grab him by the back of the head.
Clenching the back of the world champion’s head with both hands, Davies then proceeded to smash Newbludd’s face into the side of the nearest wall. Not letting go, Erick smashed his opponents face first into the wall one more time before irish whipping him across the hallway to crash awkwardly into a janitor’s cart that was parked against the wall.
With Newbludd slumped over the janitor’s cart, Davies landed a hard punch into the back of Brock’s skull before grabbing a broom off the cart and breaking it across the champion’s back!
Arching his back, Newbludd gripped the sides of the cart in obvious pain. Dropping the busted broom, Erick then got in behind Brock and lifted him up for a back suplex.
Feeling himself getting elevated, Brock reached out towards the cart in a desperate attempt to find something he could use to stop from being suplexed on to the concrete. What he found was a toilet scrubber…
A used toilet scrubber.
Reaching the apex of the maniacally laughing Davies suplex, the desperate Brock thrust the toilet scrubber at his opponent’s face and stuck the head of the shitter cleaner right into the mouth of Davies!
Instantly Davies’ eyes widened and he dropped Newbludd to yank the toilet scrubber out of his mouth. Even though he was not known for being the most hygenic guy on the NBW roster (in fact he was the exact opposite), having a used toilet scrubber shoved down his throat was too much for Erick and he bent over in disgust as he gagged.
Landing on his feet, Brock brought an elbow down on top of the keeled over Davies head before wrapping it in a headlock.
Planting his feet, Brock then lifted Davies up and suplexed him on to the janitor’s cart!
Now sprawled out on top of the cart, the pained Davies tried to roll off of it, but a hard punch from Newbludd kept him there. Brock landed his fist perfectly, causing Davies to go glassy eyed and flop his arms out on the sides of the cart.
Landing a stiff elbow into Davies chest, the world champion then grabbed a bottle of glass cleaner from the cart to squirt some of the cleaner right into the face and eyes of Davies!
“AIIIIEEEEEE!!!” Davies screeched in pain and he immediately put his hands up to his face.
“Quit yer’ cryin Erick, this is what you wanted, you sonuvabitch!” Brock yelled in response to Erick’s yelp as he maneuvered around the cart.
Grabbing the cart with both hands, Newbludd disengaged the cart’s wheel brake with a kick of his foot before pumping his legs to start pushing the cart down the hallway. Soon enough, Brock was nearly running as he pushed the cart down the hallway at top speed!
Nedrick and LaRue, along with a small group of people who wanted to see how things would play out in this unusual world title match, ran after Brock as he continued to push the cart down the hallway at breakneck speed!
With the hallway coming to an intersection, Brock decided against trying to turn the cart, especially with Davies starting to come to as they sped along. Raising his head as he blinked his watery eyes, confusion spread over the madman’s face as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening.
Only steps away from the intersection, Brock frantically waved an arm at a couple of NBW staff who had walked in front of the careening cart’s path as they turned the corner from the adjacent hallway.
“MOVE!” he blurted out at them, and both staff member leapt out of the way just as Brock let go of the cart.
Propping up on his elbows, a wild eyed Davies looked utterly confused on what was happening, and by the time he had realized that he was on top of the fast moving cart, it was too late.
Snapping his head around to see where his janitorial chariot was taking him, Erick barely had a second to try and brace himself before the cart smashed into the concrete wall. Making a loud bang upon impact, the cart hit the wall with enough force to cause it’s back wheels to violently rise up in the air and catapult Davies into the wall!
Luckily, Erick was able to get his hands up in time to absorb some of the impact as he hit the hard concrete before he bounced off of it to land awkwardly on the trashed cart. The aftermath of the collision had indeed left the cart in a mangled heap, causing various cleaning chemical bottles, toiletries and cleaning tools to get strewn all over the floor.
Stalking towards his downed opponent with a grin on his face, Newbludd scooped up a toilet plunger that was lying on the ground and tossed it from one hand to the other. Reaching Erick, who was still lying on top of the wreckage, the world champion now stood over top of him and raised the plunger up high in the air with both of his hands.
Opening his eyes to see Newbludd looming over him, Erick attempted to escape but the world champions downward thrust was not only quick, it was also accurate and suddenly Davies whole world turned black when Brock stuck the plunger onto his face!
“C’mon Erick, let’s see how full of shit you really are!” Brock gleefully laughed as he plunged Davies face, the suction causing the madman’s head to jerk up and down.
Not really sure what to do in that unusual situation, Tal just stood behind Brock with a frown. For a second it had looked like the veteran referee was going to get down on a knee and treat it as a submission situation, but decided against it. There was no way he could decipher Davies muffled screams from inside the rubber plunger anyways.
Still plunging away on his opponents face, Newbludd shot a grin to LaRue who was clapping his hands in joy amongst the growing crowd of spectators. Davey was enjoying the show, and Brock was having even more fun performing it.
But, all good things must come to an end, and that’s exactly what happened when Davies shot a desperation kick upwards to nail Brock right between the legs!
Upon having his testicles kicked up into his throat, Brock’s face went white and he immediatly doubled over in pain and stumbled away from Davies, putting a hand up to the wall to stop from falling to the ground.
Having bought himself some time, Erick put both of his hands on the handle of the toilet plunger, which was still suctioned to his face to try and pull it off. Surprisingly, the plunger wouldn’t come off! Newbludd’s superior plumbing work had caused the plunger to achieve maximum suction!
Sensing that he still had an opening to turn the tide in his favor, Davies said ‘fuck it’ and staggered to his feet, plunger still firmly attached to his face. Even though the giant rubber suction cup covered the entirety of his mouth and nose, it was only covering one of the unhinged grappler’s eyes.
Using his good eye, Davies swung his head around to see Brock still hunched over against the wall as he dealt with severe ballache. Locating the vulnerable world champion, that one eyed widened and Erick scrambled over to Brock to hit him with a hard running knee to the side of the head!
With his trademark maniacal laughter being muffled by the plunger, Davies spun the dazed Newbludd around to face him, which caused the handle of the plunger to poke Brock in the eye!
Brock cried out in pain and put a hand up to his injured eye as Davies locked him up with a front waist lock. Dipping down, Davies began to power upwards for what was looking like a belly to belly suplex when he suddenly stopped.
To rear his head back and poke Brock in his other eye with the plunger handle!
Crying out in pain for a second time, Newbludd now had his hands on both of his eyes and Davies dipped down again to power the world champion upwards…
And hit him with a BELLY TO BELLY on the concrete!
Not known for his technical ability by any means, Davies was an unrefined, but tough as nails, brawler and the suplex he had just planted the world champion with was proof of that. But, despite how sloppy it may have looked, the resounding ‘smack’ that was heard when Newbludd’s back hit the concrete from the suplex indicated that Erick had driven his opponent down with authority.
Still lying on top of Brock after the belly to belly, and still with a toilet plunger stuck to his face, Davies hooked one of Newbludd’s legs in a bid to make history and become the NBW World Heavyweight Champion!
Diving down to the floor, Nedrick raised his hand and slapped it hard against the cement…
Kickout by Brock!
It was going to take more than one belly to belly, even if it was on the unprotected backstage floor, to keep Newbludd down.
Slamming his hand on the concrete, Davies pointed a menacing finger at Nedrick as he brought Brock back up to his feet to hit him with a hard short arm clothesline that sent the champion back down to the floor. Not letting go of Newbludd’s arm, Erick immediately yanked the groggy champion back up to his feet again.
And yes, the plunger was still connected to his face. And yes, Davies gave no fucks about it.
Driving a series into Brock’s midsection, Erick then led Newbludd down the hallway towards the gorilla position. The closer the two got to the black curtain that held the double sliding doors that opened up to the stage behind them, the more crowded the hallway got with NBW staff. Some of them ran away from the fight, especially when they caught sight of the plunger faced Davies, while others joined the group of people who had been watching the brawl from its onset.
Pushed against the wall, opposite of the gorilla position, was a table setup with ice tubs of bottled water for the wrestlers either exiting or entering the stage. Spotting the table, Davies continued to lead Newbludd along and locked him into a side headlock that was followed by a series of hard fists to Brock’s face.
Reaching the table, Davies yanked Brock’s head upwards from the side headlock while at the same time wrapping a leg around one of the champion’s legs…
SIDE RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP!
Much like his rough belly to belly he had performed moments ago, the leg sweep wasn’t the prettiest, but it made up for it with its sheer impact. Once again, Newbludd’s body slapped hard on the ground as a result, causing him to grab the back of his head in pain as he arched his back.
Giving a boot to the downed Newbludd for good measure, Ol’ Plunger Head then turned his attention to the table. Grabbing it, Davies dragged it away from the wall and when he was happy with it’s position, he picked Brock up off the ground to put him in a standing headscissors.
Letting out a muffled roar, Davies then began to lift Brock up…
He was going to hit him with his deadly package piledriver…THE COD (Concussion on Delivery)!
Or not! Groaning with effort, Erick continued to lift Newbludd’s 230 pound frame upwards until he got him all the way up and spun towards the table!
He was going to POWERBOMB BROCK THROUGH THE TABLE!
At the precarious apex of the powerbomb, a desperate Newbludd reached down and grabbed ahold of the plunger handle with both of his hands…
And managed it to pull it off of Davies face!
Having the plunger yanked off disoriented Davies (while also revealing a bright purple ring on his face) and it gave the world champion the opening he needed to avoid getting smashed through the table that was right behind him.
Still sitting on Erick’s shoulders, Newbludd brought the plunger down on top of his opponents head with a mighty two handed strike that caused the wooden handle to bust in two! Despite just getting his skull rocked by the blow, the resilient madman didn’t drop Brock and decided to give everything he had in him to send the champion through the table with the powerbomb…
Only to have Newbludd reverse it into an X-Factor!
Showing his veteran know how, Brock modified the X-Factor at the last second so that Davies head would be plunged into one of the tubs of ice water while at the same moment he shot his own legs out as far as he could to land on his feet on the other side of the table!
Still holding on to Davies head, the world champion kept it in the tub of ice water as Erick thrashed about. Yanking Davies head out of the water, Brock then reared back with his other fist and smoked the coughing lunatic square in the jaw with a hard right hook. Stumbling backwards from the blow, Davies didn’t notice Newbludd crawl on top of the table.
Eyeing up his target, Brock steadied himself for a brief moment before leaping off towards Erick!
And snatching him in a headlock in mid flight, and using the momentum to swing around as soon as he did!
TORNADO DDT...BLOCKED BY DAVIES!
Somehow, someway, the disoriented Erick had sensed his impending doom and managed to push Brock off of him before the DDT could be completed!
Landing on his back yet again, Brock disregarded the pain throbbing through it to use the momentum to his advantage and perform a backwards roll to pop up to his feet…
Just in time to see Erick charging in towards him…
Thinking fast, Brock simply hit the floor to hit the incoming lunatic with a drop toe hold! A drop toe hold that caused Davies recently toilet plunged face to bounce off the floor and bust him open!
Getting to his feet, Brock took a deep breath and picked Erick’s limp form up. Scanning his surroundings, Newbludd saw the black curtain that led to the stage entrance and decided to irish whip Davies through the black curtain that led to the double sliding doors.
Right after the sound of something hard hitting something even harder was heard, the camera switched it’s view to that of the stage itself. Suddenly the double sliding doors opened and Davies fell face first through them onto the metal stage floor. The live audience roared in delight at the site of Davies sprawled out on the ground right in front of the sliding double doors.
Apparently, the large metal stage doors weren’t automatic, which caused Davies to run head on into them and cause the loud ‘thud’ to be heard.
Suddenly the camera went split screen, the left side focused in on the laid out Davies and the right side focused in on Newbludd, who had a curious look on his face after seeing what had just occurred with Davies and the entrance doors.
Giving in to his curiosity, Newbludd quickly scanned the area until his eyes fell upon a young man holding what looked to be an oversized TV remote. Peeking his head through the curtain to make sure Davies was still down, which he was, Brock then hustled over to the young man who just stared back at him in shock.
“Kid, is that what I think it is?” the champion quickly asked as he pointed at the large controller in the young man’s hands.
Looking as nervous as a whore in church, the young NBW staff member looked at the controller then looked at Brock, then looked at the controller again.
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Brock yelled down to the you man. “Snap out of it dude! Does that 1980’s cell phone lookin’ thing control the doors!?”
““Yes...it controls the doors...the pyro...the holograms...really everything that happens during entrances…” the nervous young man responded.
Blinking his eyes rapidly as if to process the fact that the NBW World Heavyweight Champion was now breathing down his neck and asking questions about his job, NBW Entrance Coordinator and Senior Pyrotechnician, Augie Fergerwitz, swallowed hard.
Sensing the timid nature of the young man, Brock changed his tactics, while on the outside Davies began to stir.
“Listen, Augie...it’s Augie, right? Augie Fergerwitz?” Brock asked as he put a hand on the scrawny young man shoulder.
Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Augie nodded his head as he looked up to lock eyes with Brock.
“Whatever ya’ll doin’, bon ami, ya better do it fast!” Davey LaRue yelled at Newbludd as him and the referee both peeked through the curtain to see Davies was now on his hands and knees just on the stage side of the sliding entrance doors.
“You...you know who I am?” Augie asked with genuine disbelief.
Glancing up to the curtain, Brock frantically shook his head yes to Augie.
“Of course I do! Everybody knows Augie!” Brock exclaimed with the biggest grin he could muster.
“Well, everybody might not know ‘Augie’, you damn straight they know his alter ego on Call of Duty, the killing machine known as...”
“Please...please don’t say it on live TV…” Augie mumbled as he cheeks grew red.
“CLITCOMMANDER69! Oh man, you’re a hero on the digital battlefield, you’ve killed me so many times that I don’t even play when you’re online!” Brock enthusiastically finished as he anxiously looked to the door.
“You...you play Call of Duty?” Augie asked, some of the redness leaving his cheeks.
Meanwhile, on the left side screen, Davies was seconds away from getting fully upright.
“What ya doin’, Brock!?” LaRue screamed at his friend. “Go out der and finish him off!”
Not even acknowledging Davey, the world champion grabbed Augie by both shoulders and locked eyes with him.
“I do, CLITCOMMANDER69...I’ve fallen victim to your superior skills in many a firefight, though my identity on XBOX is secret… it is a secret I will tell you now, because I need your help...in the virtual world of XBOX Live I am known by another name...9INCHESLIMP…”
Augie’s eyes instantly lit up.
“YOU’RE 9INCHESLIMP!?” he blurted out and Brock nodded his head.
“I am, Augie...I am 9INCHESLIMP…” Newbludd humbly said as he managed to sneak a wink over to Veronica, who had been following the match from the onset.
Blushing slightly, the young interviewer turned away, apparently she played video games too.
“Heeeee’s uuuup…” Davey sarcastically said in the background as the left side of the split screen showed an upright and supremely pissed Erick Davies wiping the blood away from his face.
“Now it’s time for the ClitCommander to prove his worth on the battlefield of life, Augie!” Newbludd said as he shook the scrawny young man.
“9INCHESLIMP needs your help to defeat the evil Erick Davies…”
Seeing the broken toilet plunger on the floor, Newbludd snatched it up off the ground and pointed it in Augies face.
“WHAT SAY YOU!?” the champion screamed in a terribly done Middle Earth accent.
Inspired, Augie jumped out of his seat and raised a fist high in the air.
“The CLITCOMMANDER will help you in your noble cause 9INCHESLIMP!” he yelled back in an equally as bad Middle Earth accident.
“Ummm...what did you need me to do exactly?” he then asked in his normal, somewhat meek voice.
On the left side of the screen, Davies turned to face the double doors and let out a guttural roar before charging in towards the open double doors at full speed.
“First, I’m going to need you to close the doors for me, like right now.” Brock said, and Augie hit one of the buttons on the remote.
Davies was one step away from the doors when suddenly the slammed shut on him!
The crowd who had been watching the events unfold roared in laughter at Davies misfortune, but they were quickly hushed when a furious Erick scrambled to his feet and began to pry open the doors.
“Ohmygod! This is like the Walking Dead!” Augie exclaimed in a mixture of excitement and terror as Davies managed to pry the doors open enough to stick his bloody face through them.
“NEWBLUUUUDDD!!” the maniac screamed, causing blood to fly from his mouth and nose.
Concerned, Davey watch Davies do his best Jack Nicholson in The Shining impression before looking back at Brock.
“Enough of da foolin’ around Brock, go out der and take dis crazy gator down! Ya title’s on de line bon ami!”
Once again, Brock didn’t bother to look up at his friend. Instead, he studied the intricate controller in Augies hands.
“What’s that one do?” he quickly asked and Augie zoned in on the button he was pointing at.
“That’s for a spark shower, you know the one where the guys breath the smoke in and blow it out like a dragon?” the online entity known as the CLITCOMMANDER quickly answered.
“Hit it.” the champion ordered.
Still trying to muscle his way through the double doors, Davies face turned from menacing to shocked in the blink of an eye when golden sparks suddenly began to rain down on him!
“OW! OW! AHHHH! WHAT IS HAPPENING!?” he screamed as he backed away from the door and tried to put out a small fire that had started in his scraggly beard from one of the sparks landing one it.
Backstage, Newbludd watched on the teleprompter at his opponent’s misfortune and grew a slight grin. Then, he looked back to the controller and pointed at another button that had ‘CS’ etched on top of it.
“How about that one?” he asked Augie.
“That one? That one is for Clan Strongberns entrance music…” the maestro of entrances answered.
“Play it...but before you do, turn the volume up to eleven.” Newbludd ordered with a grin.
“It doesn’t go up to eleven, 9INCHESLIMP…” Augie was quick to point out.
“Uggghhh, fine.” Newbludd groaned. “Ten will do.”
“You got it!” Augie said as he turned the volume to the max
Still trying to put his facial hair wildfire out, Davies jumped from shock when an obnoxiously loud rugged guitar riff hit the speakers.
Covering his ears, Davies spun in a frantic circle. Why would Clan Strongbern come out for him!?
Another guitar riff.
Panicking, Davies put up his dukes and planted his feet. But, then he had to holster those dukes and put his hands to his ears again.
“WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING!?” Davies screamed out, while in the back Brock and Augie shared a laugh as the already mentally unstable Erick began to really lose his shit.
“Wait wait wait! Pause it!” Brock quickly said as he watched the teleprompter. Looking around suspiciously, Davies slowly lowered his hands away from his ears and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Ok, hit it one more time.” Newbludd said.
One more guitar riff.
“AHHHHHH!!!” Davies screamed out as he collapsed to the ground, nearing a full mental breakdown.
“STOOOOOOOPPPP!!!” Davies screamed out as he kicked his legs and began to roll down the ramp.
“Hang on, we don’t want to let him get too far away!” Brock exclaimed.
Augie gave the world champion a sly grin.
“I know just the thing…” the CLITCOMMANDER said with as much bravado as he could muster before pushing a button that was labeled “AR”.
Standing up on the ramp, the shell shocked Davies shambled around the ramp with his hands clutching his hair. The look in his eyes was akin to the first time someone walked into their parents bedroom and caught them having sex.
Utter shock and terror.
Well, needless to say those feelings were amplified when suddenly the lights dimmed and the ghostly holograms of fallen warriors suddenly appeared on both sides of him. The same haunting figures that appeared during Alex Reyn’s entrance.
Terror gripped Davies as he stared at the ghastly holograms who all had their eyes locked on him. Collapsing, a screaming Davies began to crawl up towards the stage.
“Jesus, is he crying!?” Augie asked, sounding sympathetic for Davies.
“Huh, I guess he is. Looks like ‘Big Talk’s’ assassin was exactly what I thought he was...a simple minded cowardly fuck." Brock said as he patted Augie on the shoulder.
“Thanks for the help CLITCOMMANDER, know why don’t you do me one more favor and hit the world champion’s music...and don’t forget the pyro!”
Augie gave Newbludd a thumbs up and watched him walk through the curtain to the double sliding doors with referee Tal Nedrick in tow.
Almost to the top of the ramp, Davies looked behind him and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the creepy holograms had disappeared. Too bad they were replaced with a explosion of red pyro that went off only feet from his face!
’Mouth for War by Pantera
With Davies scrambling down the ramp on his palms, the crowd roared in approval as Newbludd walked right through the red pyro to stomp down the ramp towards Davies. Still looking terrified out of his mind, the mentally broken Davies hopped up to his feet and turned to hightail it down the ramp and away from the man only a few minutes ago he planned on taking the world title belt from.
But in his rush to escape the nightmare, Davies stumbled and that was all Newbludd needed to catch up to him and lock him in a full nelson.
“I told you that you fucked up, Erick.” Brock hissed into Davies ear before he lifted him up and wrenched backwards.
MOTHER OF ALL SUPLEXES!
Davies head hit the ramp with a sickening thud, and Newbludd maintained a perfect bridge on his patented dragon suplex, prompting Nedrick to hit the floor.
Ladies and gentlemen...the winner of this contest...and STILL NBW World Heavyweight Champion…’The Innovator’ Brock Newbludd! Ring announcer Brent Williams announced to the roaring crowd from his seat at ringside.
NEW-BLUDD! NEW-BLUDD! NEW-BLUDD!
Joining his victorious friend’s side, Davey handed Brock the championship belt and its current owner raised it up high to the crowd as he stood over Jake Tockwell’s failed assassin.
Having survived everything Team Tockwell had thrown at him and his team over the last couple months, Newbludd looked ready to lead them into battle.
He looked ready for WarGames.
PAID ADVERT BREAK PLACEMENT HERE
“You have to wonder how those two are going to pair against the Handsome Man Modelling School tonight, Bernie,” Adria welcomed us back from break.
The Spanish/Catalan crowd was still hot, a party atmosphere forming in the Palau Sant Jordi when the first licks of Talk Pretty to Me hit the PA.
“Just because two guys can’t stand one another, and you think that limits their chances of success here against the well oiled, and tanned, unit of the HMMS?” Vaughn asked in return.
“That is exactly what I am talking about. Their rivalry last year was one thing, than it was Quinlan that showed Zed to an early exit in the WAR Memorial Battle Royal.”
“Good, I was just checking to see if you had concussed yourself stupid. Of course those two don’t stand a chance against the boys. I mean, you did see the social media posts sent out by the official HMMS handles? Chestnuts over an open fire, then stomped on by a heavy boot,” Vaughn painted it so you didn’t have to dive into your phones to check up.
“I think it is fair to say the boys are upset,” understatement of the year there, Hoyt.
“I’m twitching just being anywhere near the danger zone,” Vaughns subtly shifted his legs to a defensive position.
By now, the trio of Benny, Peter and Taylor were flaunting their way down the aisle. The Photogenic One leapt into his colleagues arms to avoid the unwanted touch of an ‘Uggo’ hanging over the railing. Startled, they picked up their pace to get to the safety of the 20’ x 20’.
“This tag team match is scheduled for one fall!” paused Roberts.
“One Fall!” the crowd repeated.
“Introducing first, being accompanied by the ‘Photogenic’ Peter Pham, ‘Tantalizing’ Taylor Smith and ‘The Beaut’ Benny Reyes! They are the Handsome Man Modelling School!”
All three piled into the middle of the ring and formed a huddle. Less ‘football huddle,’ more ‘girls gossiping at recess’ huddle. Perhaps some last minute strategy talks, but they’d only have so long.
The PAs stayed silent only a moment before Frontline by Pillar was echoing through the arena. The spotlights raced to the entry way and the Paragon making his way out. The Field took what was left of their boos and gave Zed his familiar response. Different though was a Mountain missing in action. That did little to stammer Zed’s self-confidence as he marched toward the numbers disadvantage.
Confident, but not stupid, Zed planted his boots at the base of the aisle and Pillar cut out.
In the short interlude, the audience had begun a fútbol chant.
Almost disheartened to quiet up the hooligans, the lyrics of The Glorious Sons started anyway.
“Come heavy or don’t come at all/
You leave your piece at home, that’s your call/
It never paid to be merciful/
Come heavy or don’t come at all”
Out to the stage was the mercurial Mitchell Quinlan, with whom the Spanish gave a modest reception.
“For a guy walking in there against three of the nastiest wrestlers on the roster, and teaming up with perhaps his highest profile rival during his time here in nBW, he sure does look confident,” Vaughn noted.
“I don’t know just how much the no Brand faithful really know about him, aside from that unwillingness to walk away from a fight,” Adria added.
“And that’s what makes him stupid.”
Tapping fists with any hanging over the rope, and pausing for one selfie, Quinlan was marching toward the battle ahead. Waiting for some sort of handshake, or understanding nod from Zed proved useless, so he just bounded up the apron and ropes to take a moment to bow to the crowd.
“And their opponents, ‘The Paragon of the Industry’ Zed! And Mitchell QUIIINNNLANN!” Roberts put a little something extra to that one.
Zed rolled under the bottom rope as Quinlan plopped from the top, and instantly things got chesty. The thing that was clear was the size advantage, and it wasn’t with the numbers advantage. Zed towered a couple of inches over everyone else, while poor Peter Pham was frightened off when Quinlan feigned a headbutt. To break this up was Simon Brack, in charge of this one. No was this going to start without his signal.
Quinlan and Smith respectively took position on the apron, leaving Zed and Benny Reyes to kick off the action.
DING! DING! DING!
The two heavyweights of their teams started this thinking the same thing: show just who the stronger was. They locked up in the center of the ring with a Collar and Elbow lock, and although Reyes was the first to make a push, Zed slipped the hold into an Overhead Hammerlock. From this advantage, Zed walked Reyes to the ropes.
Brack was all over it, calling for a clean break.
Surprisingly, Zed obliged. Or at least he couldn’t sneak in a cheap shot before Reyes did, landing a left on Zed’s check. Stunned, The Paragon found himself in a headlock and a the grinding forearm of The Beaut. Taking rear position, Reyes flashed a little bit of ameture proess dropping Zed to the mat with a Wrestling Takedown.
And immediately shifted back to a series of rights on the ground.
Before Brack could bring his halitosis anywhere near a nose only meant for mountain fresh scents, Reyes relented, instead grabbing the wrist of Zed as the two came back up. Stepping under and twisting Zed’s arm over, Reyes had the Armbar. Working the hold for a moment, Zed finally escaped by rolling through, and with the positioned switched, he’d drop Reyes quick with a hip toss. Seeing the back of Benny’s neck undefended, Zed sunk in a headlock that Brack twice had to tell him to not make a choke.
The only cheers for Reyes came out his corner, but like, as if he’d need anything but himself and his bros. Fighting, he’d slowly get back to his feet, though Zed wouldn’t release. When Reyes couldn’t pull the fingers apart, plan B was stepping to the side and hooking around Zed to break with a Back Suplex.
Upset that his face looked like he’d applied too much blush, Reyes tried to shake his head clear again. Glancing between Zed arching his back and the outstretched hand of Taylor Smith, Reyes decided to tag out.
Getting his first taste of the action, Smith circled looking for his moment. When Zed was halfway to right, Taylor buried a shoulder and drove Zed into a neutral corner hard enough for a bit of whiplash. Forearm smash up top was just to get the hands away from the midsection, where Smith belted a short series of Haymakers.
Zed was able to get just a second to try to get some air back into his lungs as Brack made Smith aware that he wasn’t going to take working on the ropes. Smith agreed in principal, he wouldn’t use ‘the ropes,’ but, just one?
Zed’s respite was up when Smith grabbed a headlock and ran his forehead over the top of that thinly taped steel coil. Smith released before Brack could use a count, and just flashed a dopey smile to the zebra.
A few more Forearm shots walked Zed back into the Handsome Man Modelling School’s corner. Taylor Smith trapted Zed as Benny Reyes tagged himself in. Nodding to each other, Reyes pulled Smith out of the corner and whipped him back in for the Assisted Corner Clothesline. Happy with the chaos caused, Smith gracefully exited.
But, unfortunately for Zed, he was still down in the unfriendly corner and Benny Reyes stalked in. As matter-of-factly as you could, Reyes laid in boot after boot, then using the sole of his boot to straddle Zed’s throat and choke.
Brack started the count.
But Taylor Smith tagged himself in and switched placed with Reyes. He too took to simply kicking away, stomping on the chest of Zed for four seconds before Reyes had tagged himself back into the match up.
Reyes went immediately back to the foot choke, and again Brack counted.
Smith once more slapped the shoulder of his partner, and second verse, same as the first. Only, this time, after something just short of ten seconds of dancing on Zed’s fallen torso, dragged The Paragon away from the ropes for a pin attempt.
But Zed was able to rock a shoulder off the mat stopping the count at…
“TWO!” the crowd chanted.
For his part, Smith handled the situation with as much dignity and respect as you’d think he would.
“That was three! You can count that high, right?”
And after using his fingers as a teaching tool, Taylor turned back to his prey. Couldn’t have liked that elbow to the gut Zed snuck in, stopping Smith cold. Back to his feet for the first time in a couple minutes, Zed clubbed an Overhand Right to the back. Stealing in a Butterfly Lock, Zed hoisted Smith off his feet and to the mat with a Suplex. Holding the Butterfly and using his head to turn, Zed pulled Smith back up to his feet, and then off of them with a second Butterfly Suplex. Feeling the first two weren’t enough punishment for the assault earlier, Zed landed another - Triple Butterfly Suplex!
Exhausted himself from the feat, neither man made much motion. Zed was the first to make a crawl toward Smith. As it looked like he’d simply lay an arm across Smith’s body for the pin, Zed thought otherwise. Brack even had slid into position when Zed pulled up to his knees and began reigning down rights while he cradled Smith’s head up with the left. A second spirit, this one all pissed off and bitter, overtook Zed. He dragged Smith up by the ears and shot him across the ring.
Bracing his shoulder, Zed wanted to drive Smith through the mat, but Smith showed some nimbleness and somehow managed to cartwheel out of danger. Taylor reached out and grabbed Zed by the neck and leapt - Lungblower!
The sudden offence had the HMMS back on top, and to keep it that way, Smith tagged in the fresher Benny Reyes.
Zed was half searching for what had just happened, and could be why he was slow to try to move to the outstretched hand of his partner. Quinlan was stomping in rhythm on the apron, and for the briefest of moments, the nBW faithful were clapping, cheering Zed on. He made that leap…
And ate a faceful of canvas. Reyes had got there just in time to pick the leg and stop the tag attempt, Zed coming just an inch away from Quinlan’s fingers. Reyes still hand the ankle and toyed with Zed as he tried to get back upright. The wild rights and lefts were easily to avoid, so Benny thought he’d give Zed a spin. We’ll never know what was on Reyes mind in that moment, but by the time Zed had gone the 360, Zed’s knee had driven into his temple.
Stretching between the top and middle ropes, Quinlan was finally able to slap Zed on the shoulder and make the tag. Amazingly, Benny was back to his feet, up but out of it. Quinlan bounding in with the Springboard Ring-In Tornado DDT driving his head back to the mat didn’t much help clear those cobwebs. Reyes was seated, reaching out to the wrong corner when Quinlan had picked his place and hammered his back with a Futból Kick.
Reyes could only roll to his stomach and hope his compadres had something to get him out of this perdictiment. Quinlan wasn’t having that, pulling him up and looking for the Cobra Clutch. He was able to get the hold applied, but Reyes was able to back him up into a corner to wait for Brack’s break. Unfortunately, it was Quinlan’s corner, and Zed had chosen to tag himself back into the match.
Quinlan let go the hold and hopped back to the apron, still fresh with Zed putting in 90% of the work thus far. Reyes made the slow walk to the safety of his corner, but was spun around by Zed who proceeded to make this sound with his hand against Reyes’ chest.
That one brought tears to the eyes of the Beaut, the next one just left a welt. A measured right knocked Benny to his ass.
Zed rocked himself off the ropes and walked forward with a Running Knee Drop, tumbling forward to Simon Brack, who was instructing Zed to leave the ring. Quinlan had made the blind tag when Zed was at the ropes. Zed wasn’t quick about it, to the point where Brack had to usher the Paragon to the corner.
Benny was still looking up at the house lights when Quinlan came in and tried the Senton. Reyes instinctively managed to roll out of the way of that one. Reyes only gets up enough to drop an Elbow, but only gets the mat, Quinlan having quickly dodged this time. Reyes was on his butt, looking for where Quinlan had gone, but he couldn’t see behind him. Quinlan jogged forward and tumbled over Reyes hitting the Rolling Neck Snap.
Seeing where Benny was on the mat, Quinlan looked at the corner and judged the distance. Mind made up, Quinlan was looking to take things high risk when he ascended the turnbuckle facing out to the audience, clearly thinking Moonsault, but, the audience never got to see the XL Luchador do his thing, as Zed slapped Q’s thigh hard enough to shake his footing. Eloquent as ever, Zed kindly asked his partner to…
“Get your ass on the apron!”
Confidently, Zed sauntered to the tired and beat-up Reyes. Now was the time he’d get to thinking about how he wanted to end this, how to set up one of his finishers. Instead, it was the time he got punched near the belt.
Trying again to create enough space to get himself out of the match, Reyes laid a Knee Lift to soften Zed some. With the front waistlock, he was thinking Belly to Belly, maybe. Zed had instead swung the physical momentum of the two to spin Reyes into position for an ugly looking German Suplex.
Once again the ring was cut in half and Taylor Smith looked a mile away. A Back Elbow walked Reyes back to Zed’s corner, where he was folded between the top and middle buckles with a Shoulder Block.
Quinlan had tagged himself back into the contest, to the disappointment of his partner for the evening. It seemed that Quinlan couldn’t understand that this match was supposed to be all about the Paragon of the Industry, as Zed illustrated with sign language. However, all the miming in the world couldn’t get Quinlan to care, so a facepalm later, Zed had a leg through the ropes.
Quinlan turned back to start pulling Reyes back up when he stumbled forward. Zed had blasted him from behind with a Forearm Shiver. Before Quinlan could ascertain just what in the Hell was going on, Zed had him lined up - ZNNIHILATION! That jumping knee strike spun Quinlan to the ground.
“What? What has Zed just done?” Adria didn’t quite understand the motivation.
“Making a mark, Hoyt. He was never going to win with that dolt. Honestly, I am surprised it had taking this long.”
With the deed done, Zed walked past the stunned faces of the Handsome Man Modelling School, and the ones formed into O’s booing the ever-loving crap out of him to the back.
It took a beat for the boys to figure out really just what had happened, but when they did, Reyes scampered over to Quinlan, rolled him and made the cover.
No, just before Brack slapped thrice, Quinlan had shot a shoulder off the mat with next to no time left to spare.
Not really believing it, Reyes dropped an Elbow and held again for the cover.
The elation of the moment was seriously being harshed by Quinlan’s refusal to just die. To drive this point home, Reyes drove a boot to his forehead. Grabbing the locks, Reyes pulled Quinlan back to his feet, and cinched a side headlock. Walking Quinlan finally to his own corner, Taylor Smith reached over and made the tag.
Still holding the headlock, Reyes moved a little ways from the corner as Smith took to the top. Once everyone had moved into position, Smith delivered a Double Foot Stomp to Quinlan’s back, bringing him to his knees. Reyes left to the apron to suck some wind.
Slapping lazily at Quinlan’s head, the whole crowd went “Ooooo,” when Smith dealt a serious backhand across his mouth. That knocked Quinlan to his back, and the camera caught the moment when he first spit the now pooling blood from his mouth.
Trying to get back to his feet, Quinlan is met with a Front Kick to the chest. The second one he catches, and in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, took Taylor Smith sailing over with a Capture Suplex.
In an act of defiance, Quinlan spat a glob of thick red stuff to the mat and waved for Benny Reyes to bring some. Taylor Smith agreed, quickly tagging Reyes back into the match. Reyes was slow to enter, but Quinlan just stayed standing in the center of the ring. When the finally got close enough, Q fired off a stiff Thigh Kick, that saw Reyes give up room. Closing again, and another Thigh Kick, this time with the left. Shaking out the knots, Reyes knew he needed to close the distance quickly. So, he rushed with a series of forearms taking Quinlan to the ropes.
Feeling down to his welted pecs, it was time to pay forward the pain. Spitting on his hand and rubbing them together, Reyes started with the wind up.
But the chop seemed to have the opposite effect on Quinlan. That can’t be right. Another for measure will set this straight.
Again, the pain only seems to intensify the drive within Quinlan. Upset and bewildered, for a second the two were forehead to forehead before Quinlan uncoiled a series of chops, thigh kicks, uppercuts, a spinning back kick and finally a headbutt - a little sequence he likes to call the Dragon Rush.
Having driven his opponent clear across the ring with the barrage, Quinlan backed up to the center of the ring, only to return and send both himself and Benny Reyes tumbling over the top rope on onto the floor with the Cactus Clothesline. The pair land in a heap.
Having stayed pretty quiet all match, it was time Peter Pham put this numbers advantage into overdrive. Just walking over to the rising Quinlan was enough to distract him for a moment. Sneaking from the other direction was Taylor Smith, and as he launched, Quinlan just caught it from the corner of his eye and bailed out of the way. Smith connected his forearm with Pham, and the two seemed to trip each other up.
Turning back to Benny Reyes, Quinlan went to the crash site, greeted with a punch to the jaw firing up from the on-one-knee Reyes. Quinlan responded in kind, and then some, grabbing the Muay Thai hold and throwing up a knee strike. Reyes grabbed hold of the apron to keep from falling down.
Taking a moment to check around him for Models about, Quinlan took Reyes’ back and lifted him up for a Back Suplex, which he deposited on the ring apron!
The Beaut was deadweight when Quinlan tossed him back under the bottom rope. Quinlan got to the apron and followed back in.
“SHORYUKEN!” shouted Taylor Smith as he caught Quinlan on the apron with a leaping uppercut straight to the nether regions. Immense pain immediately shot to every extremity, and Quinlan was more or less caught, hung, in between the ropes.
Benny Reyes was first back up, and seeing the handiwork of his partner, dragged Quinlan forward until he was draped over the middle rope and nailed a dangerous Neckbreaker.
Making his way to the corner, Smith got the tag in, and Reyes took Quinlan up into position. Smith hit the ropes. Pretty Boy Swag!
Dropping into the pin, this one was academic.
Quinlan hasn’t even drawn a breath since the nut shot.
DING! DING! DING!
“Ladies and gentlemen, your winners of this match, Benny Reyes and Taylor Smith, the Handsome Man Modelling School!”
For a match where the boys had the odds 3:2, and then their opponents tag team disintegrate right before their eyes, this was way too much of a war for the HMMS’ liking. A group hug in the center of the ring to celebrate lead to an idea.
“Get him up,” Peter Pham suggested to Smith and Reyes.
Obliging, the duo chased off Brack and each grabbed an arm to lift Quinlan up. With their feet, they kicked Quinlan’s apart. Pham licked his finger and held it to the air.
The Photogenic One took one step and Quinlan dropped all his weight straight down, causing Smith and Reyes to collide as his arms pulled in. Pham looked shaken but the still-not-dead Quinlan, but kept closing the distance. When he got there, there wasn’t a punt kick, instead, he ate a spinning elbow shot straight across the mush - Death by Elbow!
Quickly reaching in, Smith and Reyes retrieved Pham and carried him to the safety of the ramp way.
Come Heavy hit the PA as the fading image of this one was a beaten and bloodied Mitchell Quinlan nonetheless standing in the center of the ring.
Nothing bad ever happened to anyone whilst they had their pants around their ankles.
Over the last few weeks Richie Keal had acted as a protective buffer between Jack Harmen and the man they called ‘Doritos’. His efforts to protect his boss from his tormentor had generally fallen flat on their face thus far, but with the training of Harmen he was confident that at God’s Vs Titans he would be able to resolve an ongoing issue for his boss and unmask Doritos Man. What would happen after he was unmasked, Keal was still unclear on. Would simply unmasking the menace be enough to send him on his way, or would it only serve to poke the proverbial bear and force Doritos Man to reveal whatever it was that he knew about Harmen?
These thoughts, amongst others, had been pushed for now to the back of Richie Keal’s mind. Instead he was taking some time to himself and playing a game on his mobile phone and having a sit down. On the toilet. With his pants down.
Nothing bad ever happened to someone when they were sat with their pants around their ankles, did it?
Keal tapped on his phone hard, frustrated at whatever had happened on his game. He grunted. Whether that was down to the game or some other ongoing situation was unclear.
As he looked to the ceiling with frustration his phone began to buzz in his hand.
Oddly, the phone had the callers number already programmed in. That in itself wouldn’t be considered odd of course. We all save telephone numbers into our phones. What was odd was the name.
“W-wh…” Keal managed, his brows furrowed.
His head tilted to the left, then to the right. Then on the third buzz of the phone, he swiped to answer.
“ayyyyyyy ell emm ayy ohh!” came the crackling, sinister voice of a man. The voice would not have been out of place in the film ‘Scream’, had Henry Winkler played the bad guy. Because this villain, he was cool.
This villain was also, already, chuckling.
“Who is this?” Keal spat, straightening up in his… seat.
“ayyyyy, relax, relaaaax.” the voice said, dropping the false crackle to his voice and droping into his cool, leather-jacket-wearing tone. You could almost hear his arms stretching out, fingers elongated, palms pointing out and down in some slow exaggerated stretch. “it’s just your friendly neighbourhood thriller movie bad guy.”
“Wait. Cool Ranch...” The penny had dropped, “Doritos?”
“who is the coolest cat of them all? why of course, ‘tis i, the powdered enigmatic triangle, the man who makes entire ships of men disappear with one big gas bubble.”
“the one true leader of the army of sofa soldiers, sat poised to attack any minute mang. but until then let's all chill.”
“Why are you speaking like that?”
“tell me mister keal, you’ve met nacho cheese, you’ve heard of blackpepperjack… now you speak to the coolest cat of them all; Cool Ranch so perhaps you can tell me bro, are we all the same dude?”
It struck Keal as an interesting question. Sure, they all seemed about the same height; except Cool Ranch, who he hadn’t laid his eyes on yet of course. For all Keal knew, the man on the other end of the phone could be 4 feet tall. But nonetheless, it stood to reason that they could indeed each be different. It was certain that, from what he had seen of blackpepperjack[/i] he certainly seemed to move differently to Doritos Man. Now the man he was speaking to certainly had a different vocabulary. A different accent, even, to the two doritos men before him.
Keal snapped out of his thoughtful daze.
“Listen here you little turd burgler,” ‘literally’, he thought, “i’m going to see you at God’s Versus Titans, and when I say see you I mean see you. I’m going to rip that mask off’a your head as soon as I see y--EEK!”
The lights in the bathroom flicked off. Harmen was lit only by the light of his phone, most of which was obstructed by his face as he held it to his ear. Blood drained from Keal’s face as he fumbled up to his feet, grabbing the top of his trousers and trying to pull them up quickly. Unfortunately Keal staggered forwards, tripped over his y-fronts, and slammed right into the cubicle door, which of course, given its cheap plastic lock, sprang open immediately. Keal fell face-down on the floor of the bathroom, arms sprawled in front of him, his backside facing the ceiling.
The phone, still in his hand, was making a noise. Keal pulled himself onto all fours and then put the phone to his ear.
Cool Ranch was laughing. A lot.
“You piece of shit!” Keal screamed down the phone, “I’ll see you in the ring at Gods Versus Titans!”
The phone beeped, indicating the end of the call.
Back at the Victory commentation station with Adria Hoyt and Bernie Vaughn. All right, guy and gal, say things now.
“Coming up next, we’ve got two of the HEALTHIEST guys I know!” Bernie said. “The Health Fanatics are all about making goals and gettin’ swole and tonight, they’re gonna break a goal of breaking The Suplex Society in half!”
“We haven’t seen The Health Fanatics since their loss at Legacy,” Adria said, “and The Suplex Society came up just shy on Victory 7 of becoming #1 Contenders to the Dynasty Tag Titles. But Matt Haddon and his protege, Jax Curry, have shown a LOT of promise as team in a short time. A win for either of these teams is gonna go a long way towards a Dynasty Tag Team Title shot, so let’s get to it, shall we?”
“Let’s, Adria, Let’s.”
Now to ringside with Amelia Roberts.
“The following contest is a tag team match set for one fall!” she announced for the fired-up crowd.
“Call on Me” by Eric Prydz.
Their theme played nice and loud for them to pump up to. Blue strobes beat in perfect harmony to the tune. In matching red frat-like jackets from Washington State University, Damon Somner performed several star jumps while Greg Matthews completed the Farmer's Walk, carrying two black cast-iron kettlebells, weighing 20 kilos each.
"Introducing first...weighing four hundred and seventy-nine pounds... from Washington State...'The Engine' Damon Somner and 'The Powerhouse' Greg Matthews… HEALTH FANATICS!"
Somner arrived at ringside, rattling off another rapid trio of star jumps before taking a run and a jump onto the apron. The more methodical Matthews took a wee while to join him, electing to take to the stairs.
Now inside, together again, Matthews showed off his muscles as Somner stepped in front, setting off a flurry of fireworks in the process. Somner looked proud of his guys and now out came their opposition.
“Fight Like This” by Decyfer Down.
The new theme for the teacher/student tandem played and out came the respected former Keystone Champion Matt Haddon, along with his powerful Canadian protégé…
“And their opponents. At a combined weight of 503 pounds… they are the team of “Founding Father” Matt Haddon and “The Suplex Sensation” Jax Curry… they are THE SUPLEX SOCIETY!”
The crowd loved the catchy name and watched as the two men bump fists on the stage before heading towards the ring. Matt Haddon and Jax Curry both slapped fists with the fans and then climbed into the ring, eager to get this match started. Curry took off his new “Suplex Sensation” t-shirt and held it up, seeing which portion of the crowd would be loud enough to take it. The left side was rowdy, the next side a little more so, and then the final side facing the hard camera was the loudest, so he threw the shirt out and it was caught by a young member of the audience! The crowd was ready for this match and it appeared both teams were as well.
DING DING DING!
Matt Haddon was up first and the grizzled veteran known backstage as The No Brand Dad circled up with the smaller Somner and the two locked up. Haddon was the bigger of the two and powered Somner down with a tight Headlock to slow him down. The Engine then pushed back to the ropes and shot Haddon off the ropes. The former Keystone Champion shot right back, but missed a swing as Damon laid flat on the ground before catching Matt on the rebound with a great Jumping Calf Kick!
“BOOM!” Damon shouted.
Following a few sit-ups just because he could, Damon went for a cover quickly on Haddon, eager to get a big win under their belt.
Haddon shoved him right off before the two-count, but Somner was all over him like… well, himself on a protein shake, I guess. Somner grabbed the left arm of Haddon and worked it with a few Arm Wringers to soften him up. Haddon flinched in pain, but when Damon tried to twist the arm, Haddon grabbed his neck and brought him down hard with a Belly to Back Suplex that rattled the ring!
Haddon reached out and the tag was made to his powerful protege. The 258-pound former football and amateur wrestling star climbed in and set up his own partner with a Front Suplex, effectively slamming his own partner down on top of Somner! Haddon grabbed his chest and rolled out of the ring as Curry went for a cover.
Just after the two-count, Somner’s shoulder rose. Curry picked him up by his neck and then clubbed him with a hard Forearm Smash, sending him into the corner. Curry charged in and cracked the smaller Somner with a Running Back Elbow to the chest and then waited for him to come out before he THREW him with an Overhead Belly to Belly Suplex!
Haddon clapped for his protege and the crowd cheered Curry as he flexed his own pecs and made them dance with a grin on his face. After getting a few cat calls from some of the women in attendance, Curry waited for Somner to stand before he tackled him into the corner. He then pulled Somner up into a Vertical Suplex and held him there…
And then a tag from Haddon!
The former Keystone Champion then got into a position to allow Curry to pass him off WHILE still being held in the air! The crowd ooohed and aaaahed the strength by the two men before Haddon finally let The Engine fall!
Despite being a little on the disoriented side, Somner managed to kick out, but this match had been almost all Suplex Society thus far with them showing off their suplex-based arsenal and double-teams. Haddon threw another Forearm Smash into Somner and whipped him to the ropes where Greg Matthews finally got the tag in.
The Engine hooked onto the ropes and limped out of the way, but then Matthews tried to catch Haddon with a charging Clothesline. The nbW veteran was too experienced to fall for the blind tag right away, so he ducked the oncoming shot. Matthews came back off the ropes and charged into an Elbow Smash that stunned him on his feet, but Somner leaped and CRACKED Haddon with a Springboard Back Elbow!
To make matters worse for him, the blow only stunned The Powerhouse and Matthews made Haddon pay by deadlifting him with a Full Nelson and DRILLING him into the mat with a huge slam!
After the ring (and most likely, Haddon’s spine) rattled, Matthews took a second to admire himself and let the crowd get a good luck as he flexed his arms with Somner now pointing at him.
“That’s power! Right there!” Somner said, applauding his partner.
Somner left the ring as Matthews kneeled right over Haddon’s chest with a nonchalant cover… yes, while flexing.
Haddon shoved him off, but he was hurting in a bad way and it was about to get worse. The Powerhouse grabbed Haddon and pulled him up with another deadlift, this time in the form of a Gutwrench before walking around with Haddon in his grip. He walked over and the tag was made back to Damon Somner who readied for the next attack. Matthews hoisted Haddon into a powerful Deadlift Gutwrench and then Somner followed up with a Jumping Senton!
Curry grimaced from the impact of the tandem moves as Somner now followed with another cover.
So close to the win, but The Founding Father as he was known didn’t give up that easily. Damon twisted the arm of Haddon and led him up to a knee before he struck him with an Arm Wringer. He followed that up with a stiff Palm Strike to the arm and finished off the combo with a huge elbow to the shoulder after he went down!
Haddon howled in pain now trying to protect his arm, but Somner and Matthews were working over the former Keystone Champion and remained in control. The arm remained exposed and Somner made another tag out to Greg Matthews, who climbed back in as Somner held the arm out and struck it with a Double Axe Handle. Haddon let out another cry and held his left arm, but this left him wide open for another power move in the form of a Rib Breaker… but Matthews held on and then THREW Haddon back with a Fallaway Slam!
Haddon was now laid out on the ground while Matthews casually strolled over and made the tag to Somner, but not before he stepped on Haddon’s arm and continued to apply pressure. Somner stomped the arm and then hooked the arm into a Hammerlock Northern Lights!
CURRY WITH THE SAVE!
Saving his mentor in the nick of time, Curry delivered a boot to the chest of Somner and returned to his corner, but the damage had been done and Haddon held his arm in pain. Somner shot a glare at the Suplex Sensation while holding his back before he went to the corner and made the tag to Greg Matthews.
“Let’s end this!” he shouted.
Greg nodded as The Powerhouse and The Engine both looked to finish Haddon off with what looked to be their signature double-team finisher - an Electric Chair Neckbreaker combination they called…
RUNNER’S HIGH… NO!
When Haddon saw what was happening, he used his good hand and pummeled the head of Greg Matthews until he dropped Haddon back behind him. Haddon spun Matthews around quickly and then shoved him into his own partner, knocking him down. The Powerhouse suddenly found himself on the receiving end…
Haddon connected with a Shinbreaker right into a Saito Suplex on the massive Matthews and now both men were down!
Curry pounded on the turnbuckle and started willing the crowd of Spain into the action and will Haddon over to his corner. His mentor slid over…
TAG MADE TO CURRY!
The 6’ and 260-pound Canadian powerhouse entered the ring just as Damon Somner tried to stop him, only to get run right over with a huge Shoulder Block.
Greg Matthews was still down when The Suplex Sensation came over to him, AMAZINGLY applying a Gutwrench and then rolling him over with a huge Deadlift Gutwrench Suplex of his own…
But he held on!
The Powerhouse was pulled up by Jax Curry into a second Deadlift Gutwrench! But he still held onto that and rolled right over to his feet, taking Matthews over with three HUGE Gutwrenches and now rolled right into a cover!
Matthews kicked out, but Damon Somner was all over him and threw Forearm Smashes to silence Curry for good. He pummeled him and then grabbed the arm, looking for another arm-wrench variation, but Curry shoved him into the ropes. When he came back, he found that Curry had bounced off the adjacent ropes…
The POUUUUUUUUUNCE connected and Damon Somner got shot out of the ring like a rocket! But…
Matthews snuck up behind Curry and clocked him in the back of the head before laying into him with a Pop-up Powerslam! The crowd watched the move with amazement and then Matthews went for the cover!
Matthews growled that he wasn’t able to finish him off, but The Powerhouse pulled Curry up. He underhooked the arms, looking for The Cool Down… NO!
Curry charged him back into the corner and the tag was made by Matt Haddon! Curry reversed the hold and INCREDIBLY...
THE SOUND AND FURY!
The DEADLIFT German Suplex connected, but Curry didn’t follow through with the pin, instead watching as his mentor ascended the top turnbuckle…
THE PINPOINT ASSAULT!
The Diving Elbow Drop landed perfectly by Haddon and now The Suplex Society looked to get back on the winning track! Haddon covered him.
And they did!
“Here are your winners of the match… THE SUPLEX SOCIETY!”
Haddon and Curry had their arms raised… well, Curry did. Haddon flinched when he tried to raise the bad arm and told Slim J to raise the good one, so he did. The two celebrated their victory, but Curry walked over and motioned for a microphone. The silent powerhouse didn’t like to talk a lot, so what was on the mind of the duo?
Well, nothing, because he gave the microphone to his tag partner. The former Keystone Champion took it and the No Brand Dad waved his hand to the fans.
“Thank you, Barcelona,” Haddon said, letting the fans have a moment to get the hometown pop mention out of the way. “And to be frank, this victory was nice and it was something we needed after we came up short against Vic and Ravage…”
Haddon ran a hand through his beard before he continued.
“We came THIS close to getting a crack at the nbW Dynasty Tag Team Titles. Now, Jax, you have a hell of a future ahead of you and you’ve achieved things in your short amount of time that others would be jealous of… but I don’t want you to be the guy that is known as being THIS close… not like I’ve been.”
Curry intently listened to his mentor.
“To that end, we need to stay on the winning track so that is why… at Gods Versus Titans, The Suplex Society are issuing an open challenge to ANY tag team in the back. We want to get to those Dynasy Tag Team Titles.”
Haddon handed the microphone over to Curry.
“And we’ll suplex anybody AND everybody to do it!”
Curry threw the microphone down and he and Haddon shook hands before the two walked out of the ring.
The Truce - Part II
Backstage once more. Trent McKnight, now seated. Tablet next to him with his set of questions ready to go. However both tables were empty of guests.
“Maybe they have said everything they want to say.” Trent spoke to himself, “Still, I put it out there two weeks ago with confidence.”
Just then his tablet ran the familiar Skype sound. He saw the name calling and hit the accept.
“Nobody showed, eh Trent?” spoke the familiar voice.
“Veronica already informed me that Clan Strongbern left after Big Rick’s match. Tockwell’s gone. Brock’s still feeling it from earlier. And I see you’re not here either, Spike.”
Saunders chuckled, “I had a feeling. Jack made an edict to prevent any early blood shed. Clearly using Davies got around that but the rest don’t want to risk their opportunities by being a part of and winning the War Games. And that’s why I called.”
“Well, then let’s turn this into an interview.”
“Would love to but don’t have that time tonight, Trent. Sorry. Just taking a brief break before continuing with my students training. Checking in.”
“Oh.” Trent slumped back in his seat. Professionalism was pointless tonight. Harmen’s ruling had basically ruined his shot tonight. “How’s the back?”
“Getting there. Don’t worry, I’ll be there in Athens.”
“And Son of Malta?”
“Malta’s a fighter. Even my weight being dropped on him, it won’t stop him. He may as well have the blood of the late William Arthur Reagan flowing through him.”
“Any chance you can let me in on the remaining members of your team?”
With a chuckle and shake of his head, “Nope. But, don’t worry. It’ll be worth the wait.”
Trent sighed, reaching for the tablet he set it up on it’s side leaning against one of the objects on the table. Now the Colossus in better view. Gone was the usual bare chest or white shirt as he had what looked like a karate gi.
“If I can ask, who do you think will be the biggest opposition for you on Team Big Talk?”
“Trent, you’re turning this into an interview… but, after being flung around by the Great Wall, I would be remiss if I didn’t say I was planning to enjoy getting my hands on him. Not to mention as well ol’ Benjamin Jo-”
“-times up, Trent.” Saunders turned and looked back over his shoulder for a moment. “Breaks over. Before I go though, can I give you a bit of advice?”
“Jack and I go way back, and he’s a man of his word. He’s also a man of his own whims and enjoyment. Stop second guessing yourself. If you want Victory to stand out and not be forgotten in the mix, be aggressive and unique. For Jack, if it’s entertaining and serves a purpose, go with it.”
Trent seemed a bit at ease, deep in thought.
“I’ve got rookies waiting to be shown the impact of a properly done powerslam. It’ll be a fun night.”
The call ended as Trent closed out Skype. His attention going left then right to the empty tables. He sat in silence until it was like a jolt of lightning struck him as he shot to his feet and stepped forward.
“Don’t second guess it, hmm.” Trent grabbed his tablet and pressed the icon of the familiar assistant. The ring lasted less than a second. Keal’s face showed up, rather red from his earlier embarrassment. Hopefully with pants on. “Richie, get me a flight booked tomorrow to St. Louis. I’m going to do it. In person.”
“Do what, sir?” Keal held his phone out, further than needed as he could be seen trying to hold his own pants up. The belt missing.
“Go over the design of the Victory exclusive championship.”
Trent walked up to the door, pushing the camera crew on out along the way. As the Truce wasn’t happening, they were no longer needed. And he had a long night ahead of him.
Victory still had a Main Event itself ahead.
PAID ADVERT BREAK PLACEMENT HERE
It was time for the main event, and ‘Los Consejos De Un Padre’ by Gerrardo Reyes brought the Spanish fans to their feet.
Backstage, the duo of El Principe and VIP were seen to leaving their private locker room and make the short walk to the curtains, where a couple of guards saluted them and marched them towards the ringside area. Waiting there, and it was only about a matter of yards, was a limousine. One of the guards handed the esteemed individuals over to a chauffeur, who opened the door for them to get in.
Ridiculously slow and short, the driver escorted them for ten seconds or so prior to getting out himself and holding the door yet again, this time for the ego-inflated outfit to step out.
A red carpet leading to the steps was trodden by the twosome, Principe in front, and they wiped their feet again before the ring was graced with THEIR presence.
"Weighing a combined four hundred and seventy-eight pounds...The Crown Prince of Lucha Libre, El Principe and his partner VIP...they are A-LIST!"
Principe was treated to a warm reception from the Spanish fans. This was uncommon for him, but given that the Mexico native found himself in another part of the Spanish-speaking world for the night, the Barcelona crowd welcomed him. His partner VIP, however, was not greeted as kindly.
“It’s time for our main event! The former NBW Dynasty Tag Team Champions are back for the first time since losing their belts - and their bones - thanks to Alex Reyn,” Bernie Vaughn informed the viewers. “They’ll be looking to start their comeback trail to regaining those belts here with a win tonight.”
“Los Consejos de Un Padre” faded away as A-List got settled in. The sharp trumpet of Pepe el Trompeta’s “En er Mundo” pierced through the murmur of the crowd.
Brent Williams introduced the next team, “And their opponents, at an estimated combined weight of 500 pounds, accompanied to the ring by their manager El Gringo Loco... Los Hermanos Fantasticos Olé!” The Barcelona crowd let loose with an excited roar when two men stepped through the curtain. El Gringo Loco was a corpulent man in a crazy lucha mask and dressed like a Colombian drug lord from a bad 1980s cop movie. Alongside him was a tall, lanky man dressed in a yellow costume and lucha mask. There were red silhouettes of a bull on the mask and shirt alike, and the red lettering on the tights said, “Los Hermanos Fantasticos Olé!” This man also carried a red bullfighter’s cape, and he had very identifiable scars, as well as an equally identifiable tattoo of a snake eating its own tail on the back of his left hand.
“Well the fans here in Barcelona are certainly excited to see them,” Adria Hoyt observed. “That was an even louder reception than they gave El Principe! Of course, Los Hermanos Fantasticos Olé are one of the oldest groups in wrestling. They’ve been a tradition in Mexico since 1992.”
The pair made their way to the ring, leaving everyone to wonder where the other Hermano was. It was not long before they would find out. In a scene resembling the running of the bulls in Pamplona, a tall and hefty man chased after the fans, who all tried desperately to get out of the way. Most of them wore smiles on their faces, while some appeared to be genuinely frightened for their lives. The larger Hermano finally made his way through the crowd and stepped over the barricade, joining his partner and their manager in the ring.
“I’m not sure if I believe they’re only 500 pounds,” Adria scoffed... SCEPTICALLY! “That one is about 400 on his own.”
The show wasn’t over. Hermano Uno, the one who had the cape, waved it around to taunt his partner. Hermano Dos lowered his head and charged, only for Uno to step aside and pull the cape away. The crowd cheered, “Olé!” Once again on opposite sides of the ring, the gangly Hermano taunted the tubby one again with his cape. Just like before, he moved away at the last second, and the crowd responded with another “Olé!” The skinny Hermano handed his cape to El Gringo Loco, who folded it over the arm holding his cane. EGL left the ring so that the match could get underway.
The match began with El Principe and Hermano Uno representing their respective teams.
Uno caught El Principe unaware as soon as the bell sounded and Principe was already on the ground. EP had seen it late and tried to get his hands up, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the inevitable.
The smaller of the two ‘Brothers’ was already on his toes, eager to exploit the opening and hopped over the top rope, patiently awaiting for Principe to regain his footing. When the 2nd generation Mexican did…
Springboard Forearm Smash.
2...and only 2.
A Snap Suplex kept Principe in place and a tag to the much larger Hermano brought the 350-plus pounder into the squared circle…
Principe had rolled to safety, not only in the context of this contest, but perhaps for the sake of his career.
In fact, El Principe was able to tag VIP, who with a spring in his step, steamed in and was taken down by a Snap Powerslam. That had been a pretty speedy recovery by Hermano Dos and blown freezing water on a hot tag, not that the support were behind VIP at all, reflected by their cheer when Dos delivered that painful Powerslam.
H2 elected not to go for the cover and scraped the returning-from-injury Ingram up and plant him with another Powerslam, well until Ingram raked at the eyes and bolted out of the back door.
Call it confidence or arrogance, the next move in mind was ineffective: Price sought a Belly-to-Back Suplex, but his heavier opponent wasn’t going to play ball and Victor only ended up aggravating his own spine, no doubt still sore from injuries inflicted by the East Wind at Legacy.
Adding insult to injury, Hermano Dos showed Vic how it was done with a Belly-to-Back of his own and followed up with a damaging Elbow Drop.
2, knowing fine well it was a clean conclusion, said something to the referee and piled his weight onto Price once again, achieving the same outcome but making Victor work harder, hardly ideal given the A-Lister’s recent injuries.
Hermano Dos planted Price with a Backbreaker and then pointed at Principe, who took exception to Number 2’s callout, and entered the ring, forcing the referee to intervene.
In the meantime, 1 and 2 stuck the boots to Ingram while Principe nonsensically spouted in Spanish. Ironically, A-List were being played at their own game here and the fans in Barcelona lapped it up.
By the time Principe cottoned on, Numero Uno had vacated the premises and it was as if nothing had ever transpired. Dos shot Price into Los Hermanos Fantastico Ole’s corner with authority, spine-first of course, and complemented that with an energy-sapping, weight-packed Corner Splash that squashed Price and deprived him of oxygen.
A tag went out to the lighter, faster Hermano Uno. He came in and drilled VIP in the face with a vicious Busaiku kick that sent him stumbling out of the corner, wobbling like a member of the Drunk Tank. El Hermano crept up on Price from behind. He reached around to grab the Californian by the wrists, pulling his arms to cross one another. Then it was up and over, planting the A-Lister flat on his back with a devastating straight jacket German suplex! The referee dropped down for the count.
2½ but no more. Price had managed to kick out.
While the official was counting the pin, EGL tapped Dos on the back with his cane. The larger Hermano dropped to the ringside floor and ducked behind the apron, out of the referee’s view. Loco then rapidly tapped his cane on the floor three times.
“Hurry, hurry, amigo!” he whispered... URGENTLY!
Another man rolled out from under the ring. He was dressed just as the other two, but noticeably shorter, around six feet tall, give or take a half an inch. Hermano Tres climbed up to the ring apron to replace Dos.
Meanwhile, in the ring, Hermano Uno (the tall, gangly one) was in full control of the match. He brought Price back to his feet. 1 looked right at El Principe on the ring apron and called him a cretino. Incensed by the insult, Principe stepped into the ring again, ready to get a piece of the Hermano. The referee cut him off, however, just as before. During the distraction, El Gringo Loco lobbed the torero’s cape into the ring. Uno caught it and held it to cover himself (although not very well) while he and Hermano Tres made a switch. The two of them shouted, “Olé!” and Uno handed the cape back to Loco once he was on the ring apron.
Tres whipped VIP into the ropes and twisted around his body with an abdominal stretch. Once the referee had finally gotten Principe out of the ring, he turned to find Price writhing in pain from the submission hold. He did a double take, suspecting something was amiss, but shrugged it off. The bullfighters got away with the illegal switch -- thanks to their matching costumes and masks. The official checked to see if Victor wanted to submit. He shouted out an emphatic, “No!”
El Gringo Loco’s cane slowly poked its head inside the ring. The handle turned one way, then the other, as if it were scanning the area to make sure the coast was clear. Satisfied that it was, the cane jutted further into the ring, allowing Tres to take hold of the handle for extra leverage.
Price was visibly feeling the affects of the additional torque on his body. He gritted his teeth and let out a groan. Still, he refused to surrender. As the referee circled behind Tres to make sure there were no shenanigans afoot, the Hermano quickly released the handle of the cane. EGL withdrew it from the ring just timely enough to avoid being caught.
Satisfied that everything was on the up and up, the man in the striped shirt went back to check on Victor Ingram Price. The A-Lister waved off the idea of submission with his hand sticking up through the Hermano’s arm. Once more the attention of the zebra was fully on VIP, allowing the cane to sneak back through the ropes. Hermano Tres took hold of the cane again for the extra leverage of El Gringo Logo pulling on the other end from the ringside floor.
More gritting and groaning ensued, but still VIP would not submit. Call him what you will, and many people have over the years, Ingram’s pride wouldn’t allow him to throw the proverbial towel in without at least giving it a go.
Rather than the traditional route of ushering stern elbows to the breadbasket, God bless Gorilla Monsoon, VIP rushed Tres to the ropes in an almighty show of strength, something that impressed the masses, and threatened to shove the interfering El Gringo Loco off the apron. The official spotted the LHFO boss in time and told him to get down, rather than reprimand the Mexican for meddling. Remember kids, you can’t call what you can’t see. An invaluable lesson from our wrestling youth concerning the aforementioned Monsoon.
Back to the present, EGL safely stood down off the apron and wouldn’t be harmed - not tonight at least - and Tres was backed up against the ropes. VIP fired in two, make that three, rights and sent the third brother into the ropes, seeking a Samoan Drop on the rebound…
That wouldn’t be enough, though Ingram now had his tail up. They say these things come in threes and VIP embodied that.
Victor started with a routine Atomic Drop. Before Tres could ‘sell’ that, a knee to the gut diverted his focus a wee bit higher in the human anatomy. Finally, Ingram moved so he was behind the third brother and took him down with a Chop Block.
Time for a tag?
Price stumbled a bit, clearly weary from being on the receiving end of offence, and tagged Principe in, who walked straight over for a Figure Four Leg---Inside Cradle?!
Los Hermanos’ spare man had it locked pretty tightly.
TRES GOT THE TRES!!!
The victorious Hermano wasted no time in rolling out of the ring. El Gringo Loco was as happy as a clam at high tide. Los Hermanos Fantasticos Olé had won on their debut and knocked off the former NBW Dynasty Tag Team Champions to do so. This was a huge win for them and definitely something to build upon. Los Hermanos waited for the referee to clear out of the ring before heading up the aisle themselves. After all, they didn’t want their extra numbers to be exposed.
The scene inside the ring was the exact opposite picture. Victor Ingram Price was fuming mad at Principe for losing to an inside cradle. The two argued in the ring, and VIP even accused the Crown Prince of Lucha of colluding with their opponents. El Principe assured him in Spanish that it was not so. Price eventually calmed down and grabbed Principe’s arm to raise it. The Barcelona fans enjoyed the show of sportsmanship, right up until VIP drilled his tag team partner into the mat with a Flatliner!
RED CARPET TREATMENT!!!
The Beverly Hills Ballbuster then locked in a Koji clutch in what was an obvious attempt at re-injuring El Principe’s newly recovered arm! El Gringo Loco, who had hung around to watch the exchange between his former client and the Californian, bolted into the ring as quickly as he possibly could. He wound up and smacked Victor Ingram Price in the back with his cane!
This, however, only served to further infuriate VIP, who dropped El Principe to the ground. Turning around, he grabbed El Gringo Loco by his half-unbuttoned shirt. He pulled the manager of Los Olés in, ready to treat him to a Red Carpet Treatment of his own. EGL flailed his arms about in desperation. The Red Carpet Treatment would have to wait.
Los Hermanos Fantasticos Olé came to the rescue of their manager in distress! All one, two, three... Four of them? Where did he come from? The fourth Hermano Olé stood about six foot five and was clearly a powerhouse, judging by his build. As soon as the team advanced, VIP fled. He knew he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a four-on-one beatdown. He backed off, keeping his eyes on all four Hermanos in the ring to make sure they weren’t in pursuit. El Gringo Loco helped up his former client, El Principe, and the six of them celebrated in the center of the ring to the delight of the Barcelona fans.
The Treaty - Dusty
DRUNK TANK Versus PRAGUE DRINKING TEAM - Johnny
I think so Brain, but, "Snowball for Windows?" - Mitchell
"Big Talk" JAKE TOCKWELL vs. YUMA WAKABA - Markus
Dynasty (The Belts, Not The TV Show...) - Seth
'BIG' RICK STRONGBERN Versus RAVAGE - Seth
MICHELLE COULI Versus LADY LUXX - Dusty
Hot Sauce's Hitman - Gorman
BROCK NEWBLUDD Versus ERICK DAVIES - Gorman
QUINLAN & ZED Versus HANDSOME MAN MODELING SCHOOL - Mitchell
Nothing bad ever happened to anyone whilst they had their pants around their ankles. - Scott
THE SUPLEX SOCIETY Versus THE HEALTH FANATICS - Seth
The Truce - Part II - Dusty
LOS HERMANOS FANTSTICOS OLé Versus A-LIST - Ernie/Keegan