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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:02:26 GMT -6
Ladder Match
Kyle Cameron vs Andre Jenson
[DING DING DING]
Taylor Lorde: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest...IS A LAAAAAAAADER MATCH!
HUGE pop from the crowd! They love them some good ole fashioned high flying fun! Four ladders are on outside, no doubt waiting to be used as weapons/climbed on.
Taylor Lorde: ...And, it is for the ACTUAL World Championship!
A deep voice booms from the PA system "In the world of the fantasy land of Kem begot a new type of warrior, one which was created from the fires of the star Elume and forged in the great battles of the third age. A warrior so daring and so brave that King Dennis the maker himself would try to destroy him and fail. This man is more than man, he is legend"
Big Blue Dress by Cranius begins to play as mist slowly rolls up the entrance ramp while Andre Jenson appears from behind the curtain, dressed in fresh Pokemon inspired garb. Andre looks around to the crowd with a huge smile, waving to both the left and right side of the ramp. He then beckons to the back and 4 other similarly clad LARPers emerge, flanking him. They look like the team from the Pokemon anime. The big man, wearing a green vest resembling Brock's takes position in front, while the tiny elf, dressed in a yellow crop top, shorts and a suspender takes the rear. The other two, a woman wearing glasses and a rather scary looking hairy beast bearing an odd resemblance to Pikachu take position either side of Jenson.
Taylor Lorde: Introducing FIRST! THE CHALLENGER! From THE FANTASTICAL ISLAND OF KEM, weighing 15.75 kweps, HE IS...THE DESTROYER OF GOBLINS...BANE OF UNDERSUND...KING OF KEM. HE. IS. ANDREEEEEEEEEEEEE. JENSON!
Jimmy Garcia: Andre Jenson making his return to the UCI after some time off, and his first match back is a fackin ladder match.
Gravedigger: Jenson specifically requested this match type though, he's probably ready to take whatever Cameron throws at him.
Jenson makes some waving movements with his hands and shouts something to the ceiling and they all start moving forward, seemingly satisfied.
When they get to the ring, AJ again makes some gestures and they stop, he shakes hands with each one of them, before pulling up the apron and grabbing a money pouch from under the ring. He gives each of the party a coin, and they take a defensive stance. He grins and then rolls under the bottom rope into the ring, while fishing out a couple of d20 dice and rolling them. He then nods as if acknowledging the results and shakes the referee's hand, forearm to forearm. After this, he climbs each of the middle turnbuckles in turn and looks like he casts a spell on each one of them with hand gestures and some reagents from his pouch.
Jimmy Garcia: Jenson came out during Kyle Cameron's open challenge for the ACTUAL World Title hunting for Charizards on Pokemon GO, but ending up accepting Cameron's challenge for a belt that isn't even sanctioned by the UCI. You gotta wonder what Jenson has to gain from this.
"So Whatcha Want" hits the airwaves and jeering erupts from the crowd as Kyle Cameron theatrically emerges from the curtain, the cracked ACTUAL World Title draped over his shoulder.
Taylor Lorde: Introducing SECOND! THE CHAMPION! FROM THE MEAN STREETS OF DOWNTOWN L.A, weighing 210 pounds, HE IS THE TOP DAWG...THE REASON YOU BOUGHT A TICKET, THE MAAAAAAAAAAIN ATTRACTION...KYYYYYYLE CAMERON!
Gravedigger: Typical negative reception for Cameron here tonight, he's been getting pinned week in and week out, but this is a mtch where there are no pinfalls, it's entirely possible that Cameron could get the victory tonight.
The crowd hurdling abuse towards him, Cameron pulls a black Sharpie from his pocket, offering to sign his autograph for the crowd in the front row, although no one takes him up on it. A random crowd member yells at him "YOU FUCKING DOUCHEBAG!" to which Kyle replies "You're just jealous of me!" The crowd continue booing him as he gets in the ring, trying to pull off awesome poses in the middle of the ring, even though he just makes himself look silly.
Jenson and Cameron lock eyes in the center of the ring, and the ref calls for the bell!
[DING DING DING]
Jimmy Garcia: Here we go, in only the second ladder match in UCI history. No DQs, no count outs, to win, you must climb the ladder and retrieve the belt. Expect a ton of high flying moves with that ladder in play.
Gravedigger: Jimmy, we KNOW what a ladder match is for christ's sake, let's just cut the bullshit and call the action.
Andre Jenson looks to grapple up with Kyle Cameron in the middle to start things off. However, Camerion is pre occupied with staring at Jenson's party outside, who stare right back at him. He starts mouthing off to the big guy, before turning back to Jenson incredulously.
Kyle Cameron: What a bunch of nerds. AND YOU'RE THE KING OF THE NERDS.
Jenson responds to this insolence...BY CHARGING FORWARD AND HITTING CAMERON WITH A SUPERKICK RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE! Cameron falls HARD, the crowd goes INSANE.
Jimmy Garcia: HOLY SHIT! SUPERKICK TO CAMERON!
Gravedigger: Wooooooooow. That was a VICIOUS superkick too. Don't insult a nerd's LARPing party, I guess.
Jenson goes to the fallen Cameron, still clutching his face in pain. He gets into a ground and pound position, then begins landing blow after blow to Cameron face. Cameron is defenseless, yet does his best to block the incoming shot with his forearms.
Jimmy Garcia: Cameron really in trouble this early on, the ref is powerless to stop Jenson's assault here, he can only watch.
Finally, Jenson stops hitting Kyle, gets off of him, and exits the ring, grabbing one of the ladders.
Gravedigger: Jenson's looking to end this early, I don't think Cameron will be getting up any time soon.
'Digger is incorrect. As Jenson sets up the ladder and start to climb, Cameron gets up, albeit a bit wobbly. He makes his way to the other side of the ladder, pushing it over. Jenson manages to make a safe landing on his feet in the ring. Jenson charges at Cameron, looking to hit him with the clothesline, but Cameron gets out of the way just in time to dodge it. Cameron lands a single punch to Jenson, but Jenson seems unaffected by it. Cameron lands another punch, then another, then another, finally managing to stun Jenson somewhat. Cameron takes this opportunity to slide out of the ring and catch his breath.
Jimmy Garcia: Kyle finally escaping the wrath of Jenson, if only for a brief moment.
Gravedigger: Hang on, looks like Cameron's looking for some weaponry under the ring.
Andre recovers from Kyle's blows, and notices that he's now looking under the ring for something to use. Jenson has just enough to get to his trusty dice bag on the ring apron, taking out a D20 and giving it a roll. He looks at the result, and doesn't appear too pleased.
Jimmy Garcia: This doesn't seem to bode well for Andre! The dice seem to have failed him this time.
Gravedigger: I still don't know why he puts so much focus on that die, it leaves everything to chance for him.
Jenson sees Cameron standing on the outside with a steel chair. He takes a deep breath, then charges forward, going for a suicide dive to the outside...
*SMACK*
Cameron SWATS HIM IN MID AIR WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!
Jimmy Garcia: Jesus Christ that made me wince a bit!
The camera then focuses quickly on the D20 still in ring, we can finally see the result: a natural 1.
Gravedigger: Of course.
Cameron smirks like a fucking douchebag, then lands ANOTHER SHOT to Jenson's back with the chair.
Crowd: FUCK YOU KYLE! *clap clap clapclapclap* FUCK YOU KYLE! *clap clap clapclapclap*
He doesn't respond in anger like he usually does. Instead, he just keeps on smiling as he hits ANOTHER SHOT to the back!
Jimmy Garcia: With a simple roll of the dice, the tide of this battle has turned immensely in Kyle Cameron's favor. After three IMMENSE chair shots, is Jenson done for?
Cameron tosses the chair aside, and the goes back into the ring, leaving Jenson on the outside. Kyle takes the ladder and sets it up in the middle of the ring before beginning his ascent, whilst on the outside Jenson slowly gets to his feet. Cameron is just within reach of the title belt, but Andre reaches into the ring...AND TAKES OUT A GIANT POKEBALL.
Jimmy Garcia: OH. MY. That thing is PRETTY BIG FOR A POKEBALL.
Gravedigger: Is Jenson...is Jenson gonna try and catch Cameron?
Jenson holds the ball, giving it a Gary Oak style kiss before HURLING IT TOWARDS CAMERON! Cameron has his hands on the belt, but gets hit FULL FORCE by the Pokeball, causing him to fall right off the ladder with a crash. Jenson, in a very Ash Ketchum moment, punches the air while exclaiming "YES!"
Crowd: THIS IS WRESTLING! *clap clap clapclapclap* THIS IS WRESTLING! *clap clap clapclapclap*
Jimmy Garcia: Surely tonight we have seen the evolution of the business, folks.
Gravedigger: Please never say that sentence ever again, Garcia.
The ladder still upright, Jenson gets back into the ring, and quickly gets back to climbing as Cameron slowly gets back to his feet on the opposite side of the ladder. Cameron finally gets up just as Jenson is within reach, and climbs up the ladder for himself! He gets to the top as Jenson gets his fingers on the belt. A quick forearm by Cameron to Jenson's face, and those same fingers are soon off.
Gravedigger: I've been in my fair share of ladder matches Jimbo, and this is a position NEITHER men want to be in, because all it takes is one hard hit to send either man tumbling down.
Jimmy Garcia: Both men staring each other down on top of the ladder, an intensity in both their eyes! This is UCI folks!
The tension rises at the top of the ladder, until finally Cameron SNAP and starts landing more forearms on Jenson, who is all too willing to respond with his own!
Forearm by Jenson!
Crowd: YAY!
Forearm by Cameron!
Crowd: BOO!
Another Forearm by Jenson!
Crowd: YAY!
Another Forearm by Cameron!
Crowd: BOO!
Yet ANOTHER Forearm by Jenson!
Crowd: YAY!
FOREARMS GALORE BY CAMERON!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Jimmy Garcia: DEAR GOD THESE FOREARM SHOTS!! WHAT WILL IT TAKE TO END THIS EXCHANGE?!
Jenson lets off one final forearm, but with much more force this time, knocking Cameron aback. His moment in sight, he decides whether to go for the belt while he has the chance. Instead, however...he gets Cameron in position.
Jimmy Garcia: NO. HE'S NOT GONNA TRY IT FROM THERE, IS HE?!
Gravedigger: Oh he is, trust me.
Andre Jenson: FOR KEM!
Jenson lifts Cameron up in a suplex...THEN BRINGS HIM DOWN TO THE GORUND IN A CUTTER! D20 FROM! THE! TOP! ROPE!
Crowd: THAT WAS AWESOME! *clap clap clapclapclap* THAT WAS AWESOME! *clap clap clapclapclap*
Jimmy Garcia: YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT THAT WAS AWESOME!
Jenson gets up and climb back up the ladder! Jenson is about to become ACTUAL World Champion!
Crowd: YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!
Jenson gets to the top, CAMERON GETS BACK TO HIS FEET AND TRIES TO CLIMB AGAIN...
...BUT IT'S TOO LATE, JUST AS HE GETS TO THE TOP JENSON HAS UNHOOKED THE BELT AND TAKEN IT OFF THE LOOP!
Kyle Cameron: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
[DING DING DING]
Taylor Wright: Your winner....AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW...ACTUAL WORLD CHAMPION...ANDRE JENSON!!!
Kyle Cameron: NO! NO! NO! NOT LIKE THIS!!
Cameron now back at top of the ladder, he gives Jenson no time to celebrate before trying to grab the belt out of his hands.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kyle Cameron: THIS IS MY FUCKING BELT, YOU LOSER! MY BELT!!
Kyle tugs at the belt...
Andre Jenson: THIS BELT IS NOW PROPERTY OF KEM!
Andre tugs at the belt...
Both men tug back and forth, harder and harder...until finally...
*SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!*
The belts literally SNAPS in half, the force of the break sending both men tumbling to the ground.
Gravedigger: Uhhh....what. What just happened?
Jimmy Garcia: I...do not know.
There is a moment of confusion, until Taylor Lorde gets back on the mic.
Taylor Lorde: Ladies and gentlemen, due to the ACTUAL World Title's 24/7 rules, the match is now being declared...A DRAW!
Crowd: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
Taylor Lorde: Therefore...your new...CO-CHAMPIONS...ANDRE JENSON AND KYLE CAMERON!
Gravedigger: WHAT.
Jimmy Garcia: That's insanity. Uhhh...I guess we have two ACTUAL champions now. I don't think even Kyle and Jenson know what to do.
Indeed, both men share confused looks, holding their respective half of the already broken Belt.
Gravedigger: We have to go to commercial, so stay tuned. Seriously tho...what the hell was that?
Fade to commercial. |
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:03:01 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:07:44 GMT -6
Surprise Return
The lights suddenly dim in between matches, and the fans look towards the ramp in confusion, the announcers having made no indication that a match is about to take place. After a few tense moments, a long guitar Riff echoes throughout the building!
The slightly confused audience offers applause in anticipation as the music plays, then finally through the curtain steps…
Jimmy Garcia: It’s Teddy Sol!Indeed, the crowd explodes as Mr. Sunshine steps through the curtain, dressed in blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt with a golden sun on the back. He adjusts his round red glasses and offers a genuine smile as the crowd roars in approval. Crowd: Welcome back! Welcome back! Welcome back!
Jimmy Garcia: We haven’t seen Teddy Sol since election day, when he suffered a concussion in his match for the rising stars title!
Gravedigger: I gotta be honest, I never thought we would see this guy again!Sol grins and points at the ring, then sprints as fast as he can, jumping at the last minute to slide under the ropes and halfway across the ring. He rolls over, leaning on one elbow and springing to his feet, rushing to the turnbuckle and holding both hands up happily! The crowd offers more appreciative applause, but quiets as a microphone is tossed over the ropes. Sol taps it a few times then flashes a grin to the crowd as he begins to speak.
Teddy Sol: Now, I have to be perfectly honest. When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t quite sure where my future lay, but when you can walk into a building and get an ovation like that? Doubt is the last! Thing on my mind.The crowd roars its approval and Blaze beckons them to grow louder, the noise becoming deafening as he looks around the packed arena.
Teddy Sol: Now at Election Day, things did not go as planned. Not only did I fail to capture the Rising Stars Championship, I found myself hospitalized.The crowd offers a sympathetic cheer.
Teddy Sol: Concussed.Crowd: What?
Teddy Sol: BeatenCrowd: What?
Teddy Sol: Battered.Crowd: What?
Teddy Sol: Bruised.Crowd: What?
Teddy Sol: Turned inside out and upside down by one of the toughest opponents I have ever had the misfortune of having my teeth readjusted by! But the funny thing about this business is that even though we may fall, even though we may stumble, and even though we may go down…There is always another day. When I was on the shelf, making sure that I would be able to keep myself standing, I got countless thank you notes, get well soon cards, and at least one strip-o-gram, although admittedly that could have been from our general manager. People sent pictures wearing Teddy Sol T-shirts, holding signs that said get well soon. Ten-year-olds with hope in their eyes wearing shirts with my name on it. When I saw that, there was no doubt in my mind, not even a moment’s hesitation. I knew, and I knew for sure that I wanted to get back into that ring as soon as possible!
The crowd Roars and intermixes chants of “welcome back” with “UCI” and “Mr. Sunshine” Sol basks in the raucous chaos, soaking in the enthusiasm of the crowd, seeming to grow energized by it, then with a determined look, a joyous fury, he turns towards the camera and shouts!
Teddy Sol: Well I want each and every one of you who were waiting for this day to come that your thoughts were not wasted! You did not hope for no reason! Because as of this moment, Teddy Sol is back! We! Are back! And we! Are better! Than! Ever!!At that, Teddy Sol throws down the microphone and holds out his arms, taking a deep bow as the crowd offers one final chant of “Welcome back” he grins and gives a thumbs up as the camera fades to commercial. |
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:08:18 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:15:15 GMT -6
Bar Room Brawl
Alex Richards vs Mr. Wright
Jayson Price stands in the middle of the ring as the crowd remains silent.
Jayson Price: Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t, under good conscious, allow the following match to be sanctioned under UCI rules. This rivalry between Taylor Wright and Alex Richards has gone well beyond the scope of our groundwork we’ve laid. The winner gains control of a property in no way affiliated with UCI and though the two competitors in question are under contract, I cannot control what they do outside of the ring. That being said there will be no referee on site, and no other wrestlers under contract or competing here tonight are allowed to be at the Sloshed Pit this evening, no camera men are to be present, and there is to be no commentary for the match.
Crowd: BOOOOOO!
Gravedigger: I’LL PISS IN YOUR IV AGAIN, PRICE!!!
Jayson Price: HOWEVER. Far be it for me to forbid you all seeing a violent spectacle so I’ve had my friends over at Anonymous hijack a feed from a friendly bystander with a camera to stream into the arena and onto YouTube Red. So without further ado UCI unofficially presents Taylor Wright vs Alex Richards in an on premise Bar Room Brawl.
The feed turns to static and then quickly turns to a shaky shot of outside the Sloshed Pit. Taylor Wright stands outside smoking a cigarette and puts it out on the door before shaking his arms out, cracking his neck, and walking inside. The camera runs forward and peeks in through an open window. Alex Richards is standing by the juke box downing the final drops of a bottle of Zimquila.
Richards smashes the bottle over his own head and blood starts flowing from his bald cranium and down his face with a sadistic smile. Taylor Wright can be seen with more than a slight face of fear.
Alex Richards: TIME FOR SOME FIGHTING MUSIC!
He pounds on the jukebox and music starts playing.
*Sunshine lollipops and rainbows, everything that’s wonderful is what I feel when we’re together*
(Sunshine Lollipops and Rainbows by Lesley Gore)
Taylor Wright: What the fuck is this.
Alex Richards: Her last name is GORE!
Richards comes charging in towards Wright and before he can react had made collision with a perfect form tackle lifting Wright in the air and pushing him back as Wright takes wild swings towards Richard’s back. Alex seems unfazed by the defensive attack as he smashes Wright’s back into the wall behind crashing a huge hole in the dry wall.
As Wright hits the floor Richards lays the boots on him by kicking downwards towards his head while Wright covers up to little avail. He continuously kicks and Wright has nowhere to go and nothing to do but cover up and take the vicious assault.
A voice is heard- presumably the guy taping.
Voice: Holy shit… I’ve never seen Richards like this before. He’s gonna kill him.
Richards relents for a moment and then walks over to the corner of the bar. He grabs a pool cue and walks back over to Wright. Wright gets to his knees and Richards winds up big for a homerun swing. Before he can swing Wright delivers a nasty low blow with a full forearm shot to Richards who has no choice but to drop down to his knees and drops the cue.
This isn’t a wrestling match, it’s a brawl and no two men brawl better than these two. Richards instinctively covers up too as Wright lays boots from the head to the kidneys, trying to hit anything that’s not covered by Richards’ massive forearms. A shot to the knees causes Richards to scream in pain and a kick in the mouth knocks out one of his teeth.
Wright drops to his knees and rubs Alex’s face in the ground and then slaps him across the face. Wright then picks up the pool cue and breaks it over Richard’s head. He hit the spot that was bleeding already causing even more blood to spout form the wound. Almost as though it gave him strength Alex springs to his feet and stares down Wright.
With a shocked look on his face he looks around for anything he can get his hands on. He grabs a bar stool and swings, crashing it over the back of Richards who continues his pursuit.
He grabs an empty bottle of Zimquila and smashes it over Richards’ head and again he shrugs it off and continues his pursuit.
Wright finds a folding chair and crashes that over Richards who seems to feel no pain and continues the pursuit. Then he takes another shot and Richards again feels no pain and continues. Wright takes one more shot and finally the big man slows down, unfortunately at the expense of the chair. Wright charges towards Richards who ducks and delivers a back body drop on top of the felt covered pool table.
He then delivers a few forearm shots to Wright to make sure he stays down. Alex grabs a pool cue and a cue ball. He sets it up and aims right in between Wright’s legs.
Alex Richards: Blue ball- back pocket.
He shoots the cue expertly and nails Wright in the nuts who then gets up and cries in pain. Richards wastes no time and rushes towards Wright with a clothesline, but Wright uses the big man’s momentum to toss him over the bar. Wright grabs another folding chair and hops over the bar to find nothing.
He looks around, knowing that Richards knows every nook and cranny of this god forsaken place, keeping an eye out for any motion.
Taylor Wright: Come out, come out wherever you are...
He finds a door to the office that looks like it’s open a crack. He walks slowly over to it with the chair at the ready. He kicks the door open.
Taylor Wright: Heeeeere’s Johnny!
No one is inside.
Taylor Wright: Where the fuck are you?
A glass comes flying out of nowhere and crashes into the back of Wright’s head and breaks open. A gash opens up as he turns around to see no one again.
Taylor Wright: What the f….
Another glass comes from another direction again smashing into the back of his already cut open head. He turns around again to see nothing.
Well… not nothing.
He sees a barrage of glasses coming flying at him from behind the bar from what looks like thin air. A Female voice screams…
Voice: YOU COCKSUCKING MOTHER FUCKER!
He swings wildly with the chair to deflect any projectiles that he can but the shrapnel of broken glass seems to be doing much more damage than when they strike and then as suddenly as it began it stops. He looks forward and sees nothing. The calm is eerie and the camera is shaky, too defending itself from the glass shards being thrown its way.
Wright steps forward to where it seemed like nothing was throwing shit at him and looks over the bar towards the ground.
Taylor Wright: Aha!
He jumps over and disappears behind the bar.
A moment passes and the camera hops into the tavern and trots over to the bar. It pans over the bartop and exposed below is a trap door leading into the basement. The camera man hops over and carefully heads down the dark and narrow staircase. A light gleams at the end and he rushes towards it. He pokes around the corner and looks in the open expanse of space.
It seems way larger than the space above. It is a makeshift fighting arena with a rope in a 40 yard diameter circle. Skeletons and body’s lay strewn about as well as beer bottles and blood soaked rags. On the walls are chains to keep people in. There are very crude weapons. A barbed wire bat. A pool cue sharpened to a fine point. There are two hammers chained together like nun chucks. There’s a 2x4. There’s even knife wrench.
Alex Richards stands in the center of the circle wearing boxing gloves with glass shards on them.
Alex Richards: Did you ever wonder why this place was called the Sloshed Pit. Well, that’s where you’re standing right now. Like I said, this won’t be the first time I fight for this bar, but for you, it will be your last. THIS is where we take our final stand. You grab your weapon
He raises his glass covered fists.
Alex Richards: I’ve got mine.
He walks over to a jukebox in the basement.
Alex Richards: PREPARE FOR MORTAL COMBAT!
He punches the jukebox.
*Sunshine lollipops and rainbows, everything that’s wonderful is what I feel when we’re together*
(Sunshine Lollipops and Rainbows by Lesley Gore)
Alex Richards: FUCK!
Taylor keeps the eye of the tiger as he walks towards the wall to choose his weapon. He chooses a Mace made out of what looks like a dog’s skull. He swings it around over his head as he makes his way towards Alex Richards who stands there with his fists up.
Wright takes a dive with the skull towards Richards who punches it away and delivers a punch to Wright’s side, tearing open his shirt and cutting his skin beneath it. Wright takes a step back as Richards remains wary of the flying object. Wright swings the mace towards Richards and Alex again tries to black it but misses taking a shot directly to the skull of Richards knocking him to his knees. Wright stays on him and delivers a downward blow to his back sending him face first into the mud of the Sloshed Pit.
He steps closer and delivers a punt to the side of the head of the Archduke of Confusion. Then another punt and then a third one for good measure. He drops to his knees and unhooks the gloves leaving Richards weaponless. Then he stands up and grabs the mace once more. He swings it over his head and then smashes the skull down into Richard’s back destroying the skull into pieces and leaving him there standing with a chain attached to a stick and panting heavily.
Taylor Wright: This bar is mine, bitch!
He walks away, kicking dirt onto Richards before he gets too far away.
Alex Wright: If you want the bar…
Wright turns around and sees Richard’s getting to his feet. He gets to a knee… then another knee, and puts one foot on the ground. He tries to lift himself up but drops to the floor and spits out blood. But he looks up at Wright with that same devious smile from earlier on in the night.
Alex Wright: If you want the bar… you’re gonna have to kill me.
Taylor stomps over towards where Richards is on his hands and knees still shouting threats towards Wright. He runs and delivers a finishing blow, a punt to the skull of Alex Richards.
But Alex grabs Taylor’s foot and sweeps it out from underneath him, dropping him to the floor and Richards mounts him, puts his knees on his shoulders and delivers punches to the face. Left and Right, Alex exchanges blows, randomly so Wright can never brace himself or go into it. He starts spitting blood up at Richards who doesn’t seem to give the slightest shit as he continues bludgeoning Wright.
He changes the fists to forearms and starts driving the back of Wright’s head into the mud below. Then he starts driving his elbow into his face. Richards stays on top of him and then puts his fists together and delivers a double axehandle to Wright’s face.
Taylor Wright: Stop!
He writhes around in pain as he shouts for remorse.
Alex Richards: What?
Taylor Wright: Stop… please.
He looks down at Wright, bloodied beaten and defeated. He gets up, but not without delivering one last punch to the face.
Richards walks off towards the camera.
Taylor Wright: If you want the bar…
Richards turns around.
Taylor Wright: You’re gonna have to kill me.
Alex Richards: Nope.
Taylor Wright spits out his own fair share of blood.
Taylor Wright: Yes… it’s the same rules.
He shouts, ready to face his maker.
Alex Richards: You judge a man not by how he treats his friends, but how he treats his enemies. I had you dead, Wright. Your life was in my hands, and I CHOSE to let you live. Because I know that it will hurt you more knowing that I let you live rather than making you die.
Richards walks off and the camera man rushes upstairs before he can be seen. You can hear Wright shouting in the background.
Taylor: THIS ISN’T OVER… THIS ISN’T
A bludgeoning sound interrupts Wright and his incessant screaming stops. Richards emerges from the stairwell and walks through the bar. He exits through the door, but not without turning the open sign over to closed as he walks off towards the horizon.
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:24:49 GMT -6
UCI Intercontinental Championship (Formerly Rising Stars)
David Sanchez © vs Michael
Gravedigger: Well here we go folks, the following contest will crown UCI’s first ever Intercontinental champion.
Jimmy Garcia: This match has been building since before Election Day when Michael was able to beat Sanchez with a simple small-package.
Gravedigger: I’m not a fan of Michael, but anyone who pins Sanchez is okay in my books.
Jimmy Garcia: Bitter much?
The commentary team discusses the match but for a few seconds more before the lights flicker and Taylor Lorde taps the microphone for attention before announcing the start of the upcoming match.
Taylor Lorde: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the UCI Intercontinental Championship. Making his way to the ring first; from the ruins of New York City, weighing in at two-hundred and thirty pounds; he is….. Michael!
“Come To Life” by Alter Bridge hits the speakers and Michael walks out from the back with a big smile on his face. He holds his arms up, acknowledging the crowd in attendance who in turn; cheer for his arrival.
Gravedigger: Michael earned the right to compete in this match by winning an over-the-top-rope elimination match last month. He gets better every single time he steps through those ropes, but does he have what it takes to get the job done when it actually matters?
Jimmy Garcia: I’d have to say he does ‘digger, this guy’s ripped through several main event talents, including his opponent tonight.
Gravedigger: Yes, but those have been exhibition bouts at best, we’re not going to get a real measure of what he’s capable of until tonight. If he can get the win over the mayor, he’ll have made a fan of me.
Michael walks down the ramp, high fiving fans on both sides. Really playing up to them, getting the crowd pumped up. He continues this around ringside, even leaning against the fans to pose for a picture or two as he goes fully around the entire area until he reaches the ring steps near the entrance ramp, climbs them and enters the ring.
Jimmy Garcia: He looks confident though!
Gravedigger: Wouldn’t you? In his mind he’s already won this match, and that could be his downfall here tonight.
The arena falls into a tepid silence as the opening guitar riff to Royal Blood’s “Out of the Black” begins to trickle out of the PA system, starting quiet and building to a thunderous din as the words kick into action. The crowd are perplexed at first until the titantron does the legwork in identifying who is coming to the ring by showing highlights from the career of David Sanchez’ various matches in other companies mixed in with what little vignettes and matches he has had here in UCI.
So don’t breathe when I talk,
‘Cause you haven’t been spoken to.
The song plays on as the audience erupts into a sea of distasteful chants and a rapture of hissing, gesturing and miscellaneous disapproving noises. David Sanchez appears center stage, his eyes unblinking as he soaks in the loathing. Dressed in his simple wrestling gear of purple cage-fighting shorts, taped wrists, Black and purple boots, capped with cut-off, black gloves he appears a much different man than he does behind the curtain. In contrast to his drug-addled antics of promos both past and present, as well as the everyday struggles and politics of being the mayor, this impressive specimen wears only one additional item to approach the ring, a T-shirt he had launched through his wives’ online fashion outlet. The slogan branded on this simple black garment reads “[FEAR] Fuck Empathy” in purple font.
Taylor Lorde: Making his way to the ring tonight, from Bogota, Colombia by way of City Hollow, Chicago. Weighing in tonight at 213lbs, he is the Mayor of Chicago and current Rising Stars champion; David Sanchez.
Gravedigger: Even his introduction is pretentious as fuck, I hate this dick.
Jimmy Garcia: Settle down Gravedigger! I’d like to take this opportunity to remind the viewers that while David might be the current Rising Stars champion, this match is for the newly created Intercontinental championship instead.
Gravedigger: So, he could be a double champion by the end of the night?
Jimmy Garcia: No, well yes in theory but I don’t think that’s the idea here.
David’s emotionless stare at the crowd turns into a grimace at hearing their hatred towards him, even as he rebuilds their city, he was still always known as the bad guy. He begins a slow pace to the ring. No pyrotechnics are launched, nor do the lights flicker. He believed simplicity was more intimidating than flashing strobes, smoke and fireworks. As he walks he removes the aforementioned T-shirt, an action which draws a slight stirring from the fans closest to the ramp who believe they may be given this item of clothing. Instead, upon acknowledging this optimism, Sanchez simply hangs the T-shirt over the optical lens of the cameraman who had been documenting his walk to the ring, causing a momentary fault in focus which is quickly dealt with as the low hissing turns into a tidal wave of boos by those disheartened by his inability to share.
I’ve got a gun for a mouth,
‘Got a bullet with your name on it.
Jimmy Garcia: Like him, or hate him. You can’t argue with the facts, and they speak for themselves… David Sanchez is possibly the most underrated superstar on the roster.
Gravedigger: He’s not underrated, he was voted into the World Heavyweight Championship match back at Election Day and traded his opportunity for an easier night against Erin Fausse and Teddy Sol. Ask Chase Jackson, he still hasn’t shut up about being put into that match as an alternate.
Jimmy Garcia: That match ended up stealing the show, so I don’t really know what you’re getting at?
Gravedigger: Jimmy… I fucking hate you.
As the music shifts back to a heavy guitar solo, David Sanchez slides under the bottom ropes and leaps back to his feet, staring down the ring announcer without so much as batting an eyelid at the audience. With this final blatant disregard for showmanship he turns back to the stage, awaiting his opponent whilst stretching out his limbs in a warm-up. He acts as though the arena is empty, as if this was simply a practice run. A slightly troubling smile appears on his previously void of emotion complexion as the music ceases and the crowd’s obvious resentment for his presence surrounds him like a warm blanket of hate. His eyes fix on Michael as the bell sounds and the match begins.
Ding Ding Ding!
The feeling out process is null and void as Michael immediately charges towards Sanchez, harboring a great deal of resentment after the Syndicate attacked him on Overload. Attempting a lariat, Michael stretches out his arm, looking for impact but instead finds himself falling victim to an arm-drag by the wily veteran who shifts his body weight at the last second.
Tapping his skull as Michael gets back to his feet, David’s arrogance costs him greatly as the young man from the ruins of New York wastes little time in evening out the contest by sending the Rising Stars champion to the canvas with an arm-drag of his own. Frustrated, Sanchez quickly scrambles back to his feet and straight towards Michael, but at the very last second the challenger drops to his back, pulling down the top rope as he does so and causing Sanchez to tumble over the elasticated cables and onto the protective mat which surrounds the ring.
Jimmy Garcia: Michael outsmarting the veteran there, this kid is a true student of the game. Every week he’s out here he seems to learn a little something extra.
Gravedigger: He crouched and pulled a rope Jimmy, no need to praise him like he just found the cure for cancer.
Jimmy Garcia: If you had known that move maybe he wouldn’t have eliminated you from War last year ‘digs.
Gravedigger: Did they switch your meds or something? Don’t you sass me boy!
Enraged by the chain of events that have found him outside of the ring looking in, David turns to the crowd, arguing with a group of young males in the front row who had found his fall from grace to be funny. After a few short moments of shouting in their collective faces, Sanchez decides that he has had enough. Waving the match off with his hands and beginning to head back up the entrance ramp.
Jimmy Garcia: That’s our mayor folks, afraid of a fair fight. He was more than happy to engage Michael when he was surrounded by the Syndicate or his goon squad but one-on-one he’d rather take his ball and go home.
Gravedigger: Except he can’t take his ball, the Rising Stars championship was effectively stripped from him with the opening bell of this contest. Not like that matters much to him, he’s done nothing but depreciate the value of that title since day one, the only reason he carries it is to keep the younger talent beneath him.
Before Sanchez can take his fourth step up the ramp, Michael has leapt through the ropes and sprinted after him, only to be suckered in by the crafty South American who turns at the last second and drives his shoulder into Michael’s abdomen, picking him up as he charges forwards and drives the challenger into the apron.
Happy now that he has regained the momentum of the match, David smiles that familiar serpent’s grin at the fans he was arguing with moments ago, stomping on Michael’s lower back as he looks directly into the eyes of the audience in the front row, all of whom bar a few smarks boo him loudly and without hesitation or fear of reprimand.
Jimmy Garcia: That’s not exactly going to help you win any votes Mr. Mayor.
Gravedigger: That’s assuming there’s ever an actual election, I wouldn’t be surprised if democracy is the next thing the Syndicate abolishes.
Sanchez picks Michael up now and rolls him back under the bottom rope, taking an extra few seconds to spit a wad of saliva at the crowd, who instinctively repeat this action towards him, much to the mayor’s disgust. By the time David has made it back into the squared circle, Michael is almost on his feet, so close to a vertical base in fact that as Sanchez attempts to hook his arm and neck for a suplex, the rookie is able to shift his bodyweight counter-clockwise, resulting in David being snapped to the mat courtesy of a swinging neckbreaker.
Jimmy Garcia: Sanchez needs to keep his focus on Michael if he wants to redeem himself after that loss last month, he can’t keep getting into a row with every fan that doesn’t like him, he’d be here all week.
Gravedigger: I long for the day when one of these people just gives him a salty right hook for his trouble.
Unlike his opponent, Michael wastes little time on showmanship. He picks David up to his feet once more and sends him into the ropes with an Irish whip before catching him with a dropkick on the rebound that sends Sanchez crashing back to the canvas once more. Before the fans can even catch their breath he lifts the mayor up again and repeats the Irish whip, this time throwing his opponent overhead with a belly-to-belly suplex which he swiftly attempts the pinfall immediately after.
One!
Two!
Kick-out!
Jimmy Garcia: Sanchez paying for his arrogance with that near-fall. He needs to find his feet in this match. That altercation with the audience in the front row has cost him dearly.
Gravedigger: It would honestly make my night if this kid goes two and zero over David Sanchez, it was a dream before the bell but the longer this match goes, the more it’s looking likely after-all.
Michael scoops David up once more, this time though; the additional time allotted for the pin attempt gives Sanchez an extra few second to catch his breath, and that’s all he needs to turn the tables, driving his head into Michael’s midsection as he is dragged up to his feet. Winded, Michael staggers a few steps back before he is pulled close to Sanchez in a double-underhook which the mayor soon alternates into a picturesque butterfly suplex. Rather than release the double underhook though, he torques his hips and tries to repeat the move again. Not having worn Michael down enough for such an attempt however, his opponent breaks one arm free from the clutch and uses it to instead force David down to the canvas, ensnaring his arm as he does so.
Gravedigger: Michael with an excellent counter to Sanchez’ butterfly suplexes, now it looks like he’s getting him in position for the Face Eater.
Jimmy Garcia: We’ve seen this upstart use this move to make bigger men than David submit, but can he lock it in?
Michael struggles to apply the hold for a few moments, but the more he moves, the more Sanchez is able to wriggle free; eventually wrapping both of his legs around the bottom rope and holding onto it for dear life as the referee counts to four before breaking the hold.
Jimmy Garcia: Excellent ring-awareness from the veteran there. That’s one thing you can’t take away from Sanchez, he is a master of positioning in the ring; whether it’s knowing where the ropes are in order to break holds or simply knowing which parts of the canvas have the least amount of give when dropping people on their heads.
Gravedigger: He’s... okay, I guess.
The referee is still warning Michael for trying to keep the hold on too long when David climbs back up to a vertical base and swings over the referee’s shoulder drawing the official’s attention so that he cannot see the southpaw strike landing plum into Michael’s throat, directly into the larynx with a closed fist.
Gravedigger: II take it back, he’s a dick!
Jimmy Garcia: I’m gonna have to agree with you there ‘digger, that was just flat-out despicable.
Oblivious to what has just happened, the referee steps out from between the two combatants, allowing Sanchez the freedom to charge straight forwards with an outstretched leg, driving his trademark Yakuza kick into Michael’s jaw.
Jimmy Garcia: Medusa’s Touch!
Gravedigger: Thanks for playing kid. Better luck next time.
Without wasting a single second, Sanchez drops down to the mat after Michael, who is still favoring his throat, as well as looking between the realms of concious and unconcious due to the Yakuza kick. With no emotion, no guilt and nothing remotely human etched on his face, Sanchez covers his opponent.
One!
Two!
Three!
Ding Ding Ding!
Taylor Lorde: Here is your winner by pinfall, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand newwwwwwwwww UCI Intercontinental Champion - The Mayor of Chicago.... David San-chezzzzzzz!
Wiping his boot clean as he gets up to his feet and demands the referee raise his hand, David does not so much as glance down at Michael.
Jimmy Garcia: That was a miscarriage of justice! Sanchez knew Michael had his number so he took a shortcut and used an illegal blow to set-up for the win. He should be ashamed!
Gravedigger: The squeaky wheel gets the grease Jimmy, or in this case; the smarter man gets the spoils.
Royal Blood begins to play once more as David Sanchez is presented with the Intercontinental championship, which he snatches from the referee and holds aloft for the world to see. |
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:25:39 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:34:22 GMT -6
Co-Main Event
No Disqualifications
Andre Holmes vs Erin Fausse
#Beachmania was set. The biggest pay-per-view that the promotion has ever put on, and no better place than Gainesville, Florida. O’Connell Center really appreciated all UCI had to offer but now we step into the ring with a boiling feud ready to steam out of the pot. The co-main event where the match will be under No Disqualification rules with Andre Holmes, and Erin Fausse facing off against one another.
Crowd: UCI! UCI! UCI! UCI!
Taylor Lorde is already in the center of the ring waiting for the cue. However, the cameras show Gravedigger, and Jimmy Garcia sitting down behind their announce table.
Jimmy Garcia: Ladies, and gentlemen! Welcome back to #Beachmania, and we couldn’t believe the crazy mess. Chase Jackson is the new UCI Television Champion, and David Sanchez retained the Intercontinental Title.
Gravedigger: Dat’ first ever Bar Room Brawl was insane. #Beachmania is breaking records, and necks.
Jimmy Garcia: But now we’ve reached our pre-main event. No Disqualifications. No rules. Andre Holmes finally gets his revenge match against Erin Fausse.
Gravedigger: Andre is a sore loser but is a real villain in this match. He could have let everything go but because of his own ego, and evil mind, he tortured Erin into this match.
The camera's view Taylor Lorde in the center of the ring with a smile on her face. Dressed in her signature blue dress, and black high heels. She gets the cue from production, and raises the microphone up to her lips.
Ding Ding Ding!
Taylor Lorde: Ladies, and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall, and it is under No Disqualifications!
“Ave Maria” starts playing lightly from the speakers, and then picks up to full volume around the sold out arena. The audience are strictly against Erin Fausse who walks out in her white tank top, wrestling tights, and black wrestling boots. Very upset that this match is happening as she stands on the stage, no smirk, not even her eyes blinking.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
She walks down the entrance path, and does her best to avoid the fans from touching her. Gainesville is really against Erin right now but all she wants is to put an end to this rivalry. Moving around the ring, and carefully taking each step before climbing up the steel steps.
Taylor Lorde: Introducing first! Hailing from Oskaloosa, Iowa! At five feet, six inches tall, weighing in at 135 pounds! She is Erin Fausse!
Standing in the center of the ring, the lights slowly return to normal. Back against the ropes, and eyes locked onto the stage waiting for her own true rival to come out, and give her the fight of her life.
Gravedigger: This all started cuz’ of Andre not learning to take a loss. Erin has been stalked, and patronized by a psychopath who forced her into this match just to feed his ego.
Jimmy Garcia: But Erin screwed Andre out of the match by cheating. He doesn’t take too kindly to being screwed over so he’s going to correct the mistake that happened.
A slow but assuring guitar riff starts building up; the lights around the O’Connell Center shut off. Grey video clips of Andre Holmes preparing backstage shows up on the screen until “Relentless” by New Years Day finally begins.
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Andre Holmes walks out wearing nothing but ripped black denim jeans, black wrestling boots, and white taped up wrists. He’s dressed for the occasion of going to war, and leaving his wrestling attire behind. As he walked down the entrance path, Andre knew this wasn’t a match. It was a fight.
Jimmy Garcia: Well I’ll be damned. Forget his wrestling gear, Andre Holmes has been waiting for this day to come, and he’s dressed to fight till’ he dies.
Gravedigger: Or dressed to kill. After all, Jimmy, he is a murderer, and Erin said that the problem isn’t with his alcohol, the woman, or his career, it’s him. He’s the problem.
Erin leans back on the ropes, and holds onto the top rope tightly. She doesn’t smirk but the two lock eyes in a very deep stare. Gainesville, and everyone watching at home is excited for this match to begin.
Taylor Lorde: Introducing her opponent! Hailing from Houston, Texas! At five feet, nine inches tall, weighing in at 201 pounds. H-
Andre quickly slides under the bottom rope, and springs on his feet. Taylor quickly leaves the ring; Erin, and Andre violently step into the center, and start trading blows. The referee waves his arms, and signals for the bell to ring.
Ding Ding Ding!
Jimmy Garcia: They are going at it! Erin, and Andre are not wasting any more time! Gainesville, get ready! We’re in for one hell of a fight!
Neither competitor is letting up in this brawl. They both fall down on the mat, and roll over each other while delivering blows into their skulls. Eventually, they separate to get some breathing room until meeting back in the center to continue their brawl.
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Obviously the ring won’t be enough to hold them, Erin, and Andre slip through out the ropes, and drops to the outside mat. Andre is up first, and releases a right knee to uppercut into her ribs. She hunches over, and he runs with her to barricade her body into the steel steps. The crash throws them off one another into the barricade.
Gravedigger: Has Andre lost his mind?! This man is a psychopathic, and sadistic killer.
Jimmy Garcia: Erin’s body became a bulldozer. The steel steps was flying into the barricade, and Andre is just getting started. He’s picking her up again.
His hands are grappled around her skull, and Andre smashes her face on the apron edge. Her head snaps back upon impact, and her body recoils down on the outside mat. Due to this match being under No Disqualifications, they can travel all around the world if they have to.
Crowd: ANDRE! ANDRE! ANDRE!
Erin is crawling away from Andre who is on her tail, and she gets on her feet before stumbling down on her chest on the entrance path. The concrete is right under them, and the fans are reaching out to try, and touch them. The moment Andre gets closed, she shoots up her thumb into his right eye, and digs it in.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Andre keeps walking up the entrance path. Rubbing his right eye that is temporarily blinded, and Erin quickly charges behind him to dig her forearm into his cerebrum. Knocking him face first onto the concrete, and then getting up on top to rain down forearms in the mount position.
Jimmy Garcia: And Erin Fausse using her dirty ways to turn the tables around. Now she’s on top of him mounting forearms as she blinded him with a dirty eye rake.
Gravedigger: NOTHING is ever dirty in No Disqualifications. Learn that you little rookie!
She gets off, and gives him some space. Andre continues crawling up to the stage, and Erin helps him back up to the feet. Both of them are moved into the wall, and his head leaves a nasty imprint in the steel structure. Erin reels his head back in, and crushes his skull into the steel structure again. She flips off the crowd, and keeps mouthing off.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Obviously she doesn’t care, and Andre is trying his best to get up. Erin latches her hand on the back of his head, and the two shift backstage. The referee follows afterwards, and the crowd starts booing as they can’t see what’s going on.
Gravedigger: Hold on ladies, and gentlemen. Our camera crew backstage are definitely closing in back on the action, and give us a few seconds.
Jimmy Garcia: Here it comes right now.
Backstage, Erin shoves him into a nearby equipment crate. He slams his right shoulder into it, and leans against the heavy box while Erin picks up a lead pipe on the table. She sprints into him with it but Andre reacts quickly by kicking her into the ribs. Hunched over, he grabs onto her body, and tosses her over the table.
Jimmy Garcia: Andre Holmes just flew Erin Fausse across the table like a piece of paper. These two hate each other so much that they do not care what happens to the other.
Andre Holmes: You wanna talk shit now? You wanna’ talk shit? CONTROL ME BITCH!
He rips the table away from her presence, and violently grasps her head in his hands. Dragging her up, Erin is then launched again over another table in the small hallway that leads out to and open lobby with a crazy number of equipment around them. She crashes over the table, and drops down on her back. Breathing heavily, and groaning in absolute pain.
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Erin stands on her hands, and knees but Andre runs forward, and soccer kicks the hell out of her ribs. She flips over onto her back, and covers her stomach with both arms. Nearly coughing out blood, and unable to even breathe from how powerful the kick was.
Gravedigger: None of you believed me but I told you Andre had a knack for physically abusing woman. Don’t try, and make him seem great Jimmy, the guy is loving every second of it!
The referee can only stand, and watch as the two do everything they can to tear each other apart. Andre helps Erin up again, and launches her spine first into a door. Her back plants against the wooden door, and he takes off into a charge only to find himself shattering the door into pieces, and falling onto the floor in the locker room.
Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!
Jimmy Garcia: Andre Holmes just destroyed the door, sacrificing his body! He took a chance, and made a huge mistake. You have to give it to Andre, he will do ANYTHING even sacrificing his own body to win.
Erin starts laughing. Seeing his body covered in splinters is really a comical sight. She walks inside of the locker room, and starts dragging him to the entrance by his arm. His body not even moving, Andre is breathing but Erin is really doing his best to bring him back to the ring.
Gravedigger: Andre can’t even move a damn muscle. Not like I give a shit but not a good sight to watch a man unable to move. Who da’ fuck am I kiddin’? He brought it on himself! Go, Erin, Go!
The camera changes to the entrance where Erin is dragging Andre across the cold concrete floor with his right arm. After a few moments, she manages to roll his body back into the ring but also look under the ring for a weapon of her choice. Erin stands up raising a kendo stick, and rolls into the ring with it.
Crowd: NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!
Before she uses the kendo stick, she drops down on her knees, and starts choking him with it. Pressing her arms deep into his throat as Andre is being choked. Arms flailing, and legs kicking everywhere. She releases the kendo stick off his throat, and hooks his leg for the first pin attempt of the match!
One!
Two!
Andre kicks out, and he rolls down into the ropes. Erin gets back up, and waits patiently; spinning that kendo stick around before clutching it with both hands. He stands on his knees, and leans chest first on the middle rope until she cracks the kendo stick across his back.
Crowd: OOOOOOH!
Jmmy Garcia: No remorse from the first ever UCI Rising Stars Champion! Erin Fausse nearly broke the stick across his back, and oh my god! She’s beating him down with it like a common dog!
Over, and over again. He is getting whiped on the body with Erin repeatedly swinging that stick over her head that keeps breaking into pieces over his body. Red marks are even seen on his back, chest, and stomach. Andre curled up in a ball, and suffering in a shit load of pain. She drops on top of him again, and goes for the pin.
One!
Two!
Andre kicks out again, and Erin has had enough. She walks over to the ropes, and swoops right through to walk to the turnbuckles. Seeing her opponent down on his back, Erin climbed all the way to the top, and positioned herself.
Gravedigger: Erin is lookin’ to fly, and I am ready to see that skinny ass tear itself up!
Just when she’s about to launch, Andre quickly gets up, and runs into the corner. He uses the top rope as a pole vault to Gamengiri kick her in the temple. The impact sounds across the arena, and she drops down from off the turnbuckle to the apron, and then collapses down on the outside mat.
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Andre stands in the center of the ring, and is hyping himself up. Erin barely gets off the mat, and he rushes to the ropes behind him for that extra spring in his step. The velocity is more than enough as he dives through the middle, and bottom rope to spear Erin Fausse in the chest, and smash her back against the edge of the announce table.
Jimmy Garcia: Heat Seeking Missle! A suicide dive between the middle, and bottom rope. Erin’s has been tossed into our announce table, and both competitors are down for the time being!
Gravedigger: Erin could have done it better.
Jimmy Garcia: We’ll see.
Andre is the first one to get up, and he gets and idea. He quickly digs under the ring for a specific item, and slides out a table. The crowd in Gainesville are off their feet; he read their minds pretty well. The table is set up, and Andre quickly drags Erin back onto the apron with him.
Gravedigger: OH HELL NO!
She gets nailed with a right elbow then followed with a left jab into her skull. Hanging on for dearly life but Andre tries to place her head into his pit but Erin nails his ribs with a couple of forearms. She removes her head, and nails him in the temple with her own forearms.
Jimmy Garcia: It’s a fight to hang on!
Both competitors take a moment to hang on, and regain their breath. However, Andre kicks her in the ribs, and shoves her head into his left pit before scooting the arm around his neck. The crowd stand off their feet, and watch as Andre lifts her vertical in the air until shooting back to Brainbuster her through the table.
Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!
Gravedigger: OH MY GOD! HOLY FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK MAN?! GET MEDICAL ATTENTION! ERIN, NO! MY BABY!
Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
Broken wood, broken bodies. Erin, and Andre lie next to each other in a broken heap of flesh, and blood. Gainesville is livid; the tension of this boiling rivalry so great to watch. The referee leaves the ring, and checks on their condition but luckily, they are still able to continue.
Jimmy Garcia: ANDRE HOLMES BRAINBUSTERED ERIN FAUSSE OFF THE APRON, AND STRAIGHT THROUGH THE TABLE!
He rolls over onto his chest, and takes a few minutes to even stand. Grappling his hands around her head, and rolling her into the ring. Andre follows up, and goes on top of her chest to hook the right leg.
One!
Two!
Th-
She shoots her shoulder up, and has no idea how the hell that happened. The entire arena is in awe that Erin is still alive, and well. Andre sits up; pain coursing across his entire body. Burying his face in his palms, and getting frustrated that she’s not out yet.
Crowd: THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!
He scoots his body back all the way to the corner. Grabbing each side of the top rope, he stood on wobbly legs. Andre leaned forward with foam coming out of his mouth, and Erin was sat in the opposing corner. She got up, and turned around.
Gravedigger: Look out Erin!
Andre shot out of the corner like a bullet. Sprinting across the ring for Erin to suffer a massive lariat into her chest, and have her seated down in the corner. To make matters worse, he run back into the opposing corner, and rebounded off the turnbuckles to drive that right knee straight into her nose.
Gravedigger: Trapped in the Corner! One of the trademark moves of Andre Holmes, and now he’s going outside the ring?
Jimmy Garcia: I thought for sure he was going to pin her but he’s looking for something. Must be really far in there, what the hell could it be?!
Dragging his body out, he removes three items. Two steel chairs, and one black bag that was tied at the end.
Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOH!
Erin is on her side. She has no idea whats going on. Andre places the black bag under the bottom turnbuckle of a corner, and slides into the ring with both chairs. He gets up, and uses one to set up in the center of the ring then raises his arms to the crowd. Spinning on his feet to see Erin shaking her head as he slowly walks into her drection with that evil smirk on his face.
Gravedigger: RUN GIRL RUN!
When he takes his final step, Erin drops forward into him, and nails her forearm into his genitals with a sick low blow. The clap of that strike made Andre fall onto his knees, and he held his jewels. Crowd boo’ing but Erin got up using the ropes, and stumbled like a wobbling chicken to even pick up a chair.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Jimmy Garcia: Oh no, it is that day again. It’s the same day. Deja Vu. She’s going to bash his skull in with that chair.
She walked behind him dragging the chair across the mat in her hands until lifting it over her head, and smashing the steel across it.
Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!
Jimmy Garcia: HOLY SHIT!
Gravedigger: MY GOD!
Andre fell to the mat face first with a gash opened up on his head. Blood pouring down his forehead, and face; creating a small puddle on the mat. Erin looked at the dented steel, and threw the first chair out of the ring as she kicked him over, and went down for the pin attempt again.
One!
Two!
Thre-
Out of nowhere, Andre just kicks out, and Erin backs up on her ass to the ropes. Staring into her palms, and they’re shaking. His blood stained on it, eyes widened to the shock of him surviving.
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ANDRE HOLMES! ANDRE HOLMES! ANDRE HOLMES!
Gravedigger: Ho--how is he...what? H-he…
Erin begs the referee to just call the match but Andre starts crawling from the corner into the center of the ring. She gets up, and stalks him down until he gets up bent with blood leaking like a tap was running. Erin sprints, and quickly lifts her right knee that clocks him in the jaw, and drops him down on his chest.
Jimmy Garcia: The Knee Trembler! The Knee Trembler! Oh my god! Knee Trembler! He’s out, Andre Holmes is down, and this match is over!
Gravedigger: YES! IT’S OVAH! IT’S OVAH! IT’S FUCKIN’ OVAH! MY GIRL ERIN DID IT!
She climbs on top of him again, and quickly locks his legs up for another pin attempt!
One!
Two!
Three-
Andre quickly shoves her off again, and Erin drops down on her side nearly ripping the hair out of her scalp. Enough games; she got up off her ass, and walked over to the other remaining chair on the mat, and picked it up. She held it deep into her arms, and watched him slowly get up off the mat.
Crowd: THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!
As Andre stood on his knees, she raised the chair over his head to throw but he caught it with both arms. She watched him rise on his feet, eyes widened with that bloody face. A demonic stare but he kicked her right in between her legs, low blowing her, and taking a page out of her book.
Jimmy Garcia: Payback is a bitch, and Erin just got low blowed by Andre Holmes!
Gravedigger: A cheating bastard!
Jimmy Garcia: No Disqualifications, remember?
He ripped the chair from her grasp, Erin fell to her knees covering her lady parts. Andre walked behind her, and raised the chair over her head until throwing it out of the ring.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Instead of the chair, he went over to the black bag, and grabbed it. Walking back over as he picked it up, and then untied it. Silence came over the arena. He violently put his hand under her chin, and raised it up as he opened the bag, and poured….thumbtacks into her open mouth.
Gravedigger: WHAT THE FUCK?! HE’S POURING THUMBTACKS INTO HER MOUTH! SOMEBODY STOP THIS! PLEASE, ANDRE, JUST LET HER GO!
While holding her, he whispered into her ear, and said these words. “God Forgives.” Quickly jolting to the side, he side stepped on his left leg, and shift out his right leg to Superkick the thumbtacks out of her mouth, and some sticked to the flesh inside.
Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!
Jimmy Garcia: OH MY FUCKING GOD! ANDRE HOLMES THRUST KICKED ERIN FAUSSE WITH A MOUTHFUL OF THUMBTACKS! HE’S GOING FOR THE PIN ATTEMPT!
Erin lied down on her back, heard turned to the side with her mouth oozing blood. A few thumbtacks attached to her lips, and some inside her mouth. Andre went down on her chest, and hooker the leg up for the referee to count.
One!
Two!
Three!
Ding Ding Ding!
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THAT WAS AWESOME! THAT WAS AWESOME! THAT WAS AWESOME!
Taylor Lorde: Here is your winner, Andre Holmes!
Andre slowly stands up on his knees, and looks at Erin in a blood mess. Medical attention rushes from the back, and quickly get into the ring to attend the two. Something in him snapped, and he slowly leaned down beside her until giving her the same kiss on the cheek she gave him.
Gravedigger: Andre Holmes is and evil sadistic mothafucka’ who should be locked up for all the crimes he has done. Spencer, you better do something about this. COMMERCIAL, NOW! |
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:35:54 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Aug 2, 2016 1:51:20 GMT -6
Main Event UCI World Heavyweight Championship Crow McMorris © vs Howard Black Special Guest Referee: Dune
The scene switches to absolutely jam-packed Beachmania crowd shouting themselves hoarse over the events that have transpired this evening. Fade into the announce table where Jimmy Garcia and Gravedigger welcome the camera's with wide eyes.
Jimmy Garcia: What a hot, explosive night for UCI's Beachmania so far...and now it's time for the most anticipated match of the evening as Crow McMorris defends the World Heavyweight Championship against none other than his former friend, turned bitter rival, Howard Black.
Gravedigger: That's exactly what the gold does to people Jimmy, you're new here so I'm going to cut you some slack, but when it comes down to it there are no friends in that ring...especially when the World Heavyweight Championship is on the line!
Jimmy Garcia: There's no concrete explanation why Howard Black would so vehemently turn on one of his dear friends, but lets take you back to the Overload before Election Day when Howard Black made his shocking return in violent fashion.
The scene fades into a video package that starts during Crow McMorris vs CJ3 vs Bonnie Blue. The match is coming to it's gut churning conclusion. CJ3 is reversed, knocked out of the way, Bonnie climbs to the top rope...SONIC SCREWDRIVER!...BUT SCARECROW HITS THE MURDER OF CROWS OUTTA GAWD FUHSAKEN NOWHYUH! ONE TWO THREE THE MATCH IS OVER. The music changes, dramatic undertones, as a masked hooded figure makes his way through the crowd. He lines up a tired Crow and blasts him with a knee to the back of the head, taking out the UCI World Heavyweight Champion. He takes his mask off to reveal himself as Howard Black, looking down on a prone McMorris with rage in his eyes.
Fade into the next night at Overload: Election Day. Howard makes his way out to the ring to a chorus of boos and jeers, dark circles under his eyes looking like he hasn't slept in weeks. A voice over plays as the arena audio cuts out and Howard moves towards the ring a silent obelisk.
Howard Black: So let me tell you why I did what I did. One: I attacked Crow McMorris because he’s holding something that I deserve. Something that I had spent my entire career being held down and cast aside for, and he just waltzes in, beats a loser like Omega, and has become the man. And while that made me sick, it was seeing this stupid Election Day crap and only guessing which other fan favorite losers you morons would push forward that made me want to puke my fucking guts up. So, two: I made my return and attacked Crow McMorris explicitly after the polls for this little dog and pony show ended because I don’t need a high school popularity contest to earn a shot at the belt – that should be self-evident.
...I’m going to shred through this roster like paper, and I’m going to put so many wrestlers on the injured list that Spencer Adams is going to have no choice but to give me the shot I deserve
The audio cuts back in and Buddy Roman makes his way out to the stage, microphone in one hand and a tuna on rye in the other.
You, Honey Profit, are a needful, pitiful thing. A small man who snapped the day his arm was snapped. Because in that moment you began to realize something as the crowds sort of clapped you and kinda liked you. You, Howard Back, are not over. You'll never be over. Because for these fans you're a stuck up prick. And stuck up pricks, such as yourself, are always seen right through. You can claim to be about the match, about just taking part; but we all know what that is; it's a lie. You, Howard Black, are a lie, and always shall be---
Howard Black: Shut the fuck up, Roman. If I want to listen to a Jew prattle all psuedo-intellectual about nothing, I'd go search a Bernie Sanders speech on YouTube. Now send out your "grandson".
Buddy Roman: You want my Grandson?
Howard walks to the ropes, leaning forward on them with his arms draped across them and the mic tilted to his lips. His brow furrows as his words come out in a low snarl.
Howard Black: Did I stutter?
Buddy smiles.
Buddy Roman: You will do.
The park lights suddenly cut out, plunging the venue into darkness. A moment later and they return with Crow in the centre of the ring! Howard backs off a few pace as Crow (dressed for combat) stands there, microphone in hand. He raises it to his lips.
Crow McMorris: First off, I want to thank you for teaching a valuable lesson last week. No matter who you are, or what you are. In this business? The only man you can trust, is yourself... ou don't get it, do you? I'm trying to help you. This is your one chance, your exit strategy. Because you, stepping up to me like this? That's a man who's lost his fucking mind. Last warning. Don't play a foot taller than you are with me. You won't like the outcome.
Howard Black: You want to talk about how it's everyone for themselves and then somehow chastise me for sending you a message? Well guess what, pal, how about you look in the mirror. Because frankly, my blood is on your hands, and I hold you personally responsible for what has happened to me since then.
The audio cuts out once more and a voice over plays as the two men stare each other down in the ring.
Crow McMorris: You're a rat in a maze Howard. Just be a fucking man for once and ask me for a shot.
The audio violently cuts back in as Crow shoves Howard back and smirks; Howard doesn’t hesitate to throw a punch. The blow strikes the champion across the mouth, but Crow is hardly taken aback. He responds with a fist of his own, and the two men quickly descend into a barrage of traded shot to the roar of the crowd. Neither man seems able to gain an edge over the other, both slowly staggered and draining in energy. Security pours from the stage, running down the ramp to the ring and tearing the men off each other as they continue to yell expletives.
Scene fades into the next week on Overload. Crow stands triumphant above a broken Logan. The murder machine has hold of the demon's signature joker card, casually twirling it over and over in his taped up hand. Buddy enters the ring, and hands McMorris a microphone as the stone faced zombie addresses the arena and one man in particular.
Crow McMorris: Look down, Howard. Look down at the mat and see where your future lies. It resides in the anguish of this young man. Remember a time when you had this poor bastard's confidence? His hope? Tonight I stole it from him because if I didn't, his life would have been taken soon enough. That's what I do, Howard. I save people. In three weeks I'm going to save you. Unburden you from a lost cause. Give you a chance to reconnect with your family. It's going to be a happy ending, Howard. You'll grow to like it...eventually.
Crow drops the mic as he steps over Logan; exiting the ring. Buddy clapping on his client as they leave the arena together; Logan surrounded by EMT's as they attempt to reset his shattered arm. Fade into the contract signing the Overload before Beachmania.
Crow McMorris: You want to play riddles? You want to play Jayden Thunder? Fine. Unravel this. I am a corpse. Yet I live. I am dead, yet I am alive. Tell me, Howard. What does that mean to your faith?
Howard slaps Crow's face HARD! There's an audible OHHHH from the crowd as Howard now has the microphone.
Howard Black: You know NOTHING of faith! You know NOTHING about what has brought me here. Don't you DARE condescend me about whatever stupid spooky shit you parade about, asking me how it relates to my "faith". You want to talk about God? You want to talk about "faith"?! Well let me tell you this, Cory: there is a hell, and believe me, I've seen it. And at #BeachMania that is exactly where I'll be sending you back to.
Jayson silently hands over his microphone to Crow, who appears visibly troubled by Howard's latest words.
Crow McMorris: So now we know...this isn't just a match for a title. This is about my right to exist. This is my faith in myself, against your faith in your God. That, is not a choice I would have ever asked you to make. That's a road you've chosen to travel down yourself. You need to remember that in the days ahead, in the weeks ahead. Because after I beat the living fucking shit outta you at #beachmania; you're going to have to answer to your God. And tell him, why you became a psychotic zealot out to destroy a man's second chance to live a life.
Howard Black: You don't GET IT, do you?! Do I have to beat you over the fucking head with it?! You think you're so fucking smart, but you're BLINDED by YOUR delusions and paranoia over that fucking thing. Well I'm going to do you a solid and take it off your hands so you can get a little better sleep at night without having to keep an eye on it. And it's gonna be even more fucking delicious kicking your arrogant, pretentious, psuedo-int -
Crow drops his microphone and rushes forward, Howard counters an uppercut and attempts to lock in the kimura, Crow counters that into a crowbar, countered again as Howard goes for a murder of crows! Crow wriggles out as Howard smirks...
And looks down at the belt that has fallen off Crow's shoulder during the scuffle; now lying on the floor between them. Crow has the pen and signs the contract with chagrin etched across his face. He picks up the title slowly, lifts it high to a booming cheer from the crowd. Never taking his eyes off Howard.
“It's on”, mouths Crow.
The screen holds on this as we slowly fade to black.
...everything will be reduced to ash...
The scene fades into a graphic featuring Howard Black vs Crow McMorris w/ Dune as the special guest referee. Cut to Jimmy Garcia and Gravedigger.
Jimmy Garcia: ...wow, I have goosebumps.
Gravedigger: This is a match years in the making, Jimmy. This is a match people have been tossing around on fantasy booking forums, this is a once in a lifetime event and we get to see it up close and personal! Who will walk away from Beachmania as the UCI World Heavyweight Champion?!
Jimmy Garcia: There's only one way to find out, Digger.
Camera cut to the ring where Taylor Lorde stands under a spotlight.
Taylor Lorde: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is our main event of the evening...and it is for the UCI World Heavyweight Championship!
Quick pop before the lights in the Warehouse go dark as the opening distorted oscillator of “Lost Boys” by Death Grips hits the PA. A chorus of boos immediately swells in the crowd as the beat kicks in and the snare rattles through the speakers. As “LOST BOYS” repeats, a strobe light hits the stage and Howard Black steps through the curtain, his hood up and head down. His collapses to his knees and throws his arms to the side as he tilts his head back and lets out a battle cry in synchronicity with the scream in the song. The lights come up in a dim blue and white as he jumps to his feet and begins to stalk down the aisle.
Taylor Lorde: First, the challenger. From Lincoln, Nebraska, weighing in at two hundred and fifteen pounds, he is “the Lost Boy”, Howard Black!
Howard ignores the crowd to either side as his eyes stay glued on the ring, stalking down the ramp with a look of cold rage upon his face. He makes his way up the steps and ducks beneath the top rope to enter, walking to the nearest turnbuckle and pulling himself up. He throws his head back and spreads his arms as a spotlight hits him, the crowd booing wildly. When he descends, he makes his way to his corner, pulling off the hoodie and tossing it aside. From his neck, he removes a silver crucifix on a thin chain. He stares at it for a moment, kisses it softly, then places it around the ring post before leaning back in his corner.
The crowd buzzes before the house lights die. The sound of cawing crows now echo throughout the arena as deep purple spotlights dance across the faces of screaming, attentive fans. As the ear splitting sound of the flock reaching it's crescendo. There's a moment of silence before “Another Body Murdered”, by Faith No More and the Boo Yaa T.R.I.B.E kicks in.
The relentless beat snarls while a lone purple spotlight appears on stage beneath a Infinity-tron of breakneck imagery; Kick! Wham! Cuttah! The unworthy falling victim before the might of the Murdah Musheen. A Murder of Crows! A vicious Roadkill! It's a glorious car crash of jobbers and victories as the Scarecrow finally emerges from behind the gorilla curtain, his massive form cutting a dark, brooding silhouette beneath the spotlight, a form eclipsed by smoke and light with only that luminous purple and black skull bandana visible.
Still masked in shadow, Scarecrow adjusts his taped right hand and steps forward, only now gaining depth and detail as he begins his focused procession down the steel ramp. We realize now that "El Fantasma" is wearing a customized black hoodie over his fight gear. The words, "El Fantasma", are emblazoned across the back in purple.
Taylor Lorde: And the champion...Standing at six foot six! Weighing in at two hundred and thirty six pounds! Back from dah dead! He is...DAHHH MURDAHHH MACHINNNE, CROW McMORHISSSS!
The spotlight above follows CMAC at a measured pace, his tall frame navigating around the squared circle, eager to dissect Howard Black.
Eventually (after Crow is satisfied that his mind games are complete) dat dayum Z-Saiyan saunters over the top rope and enters the ring, removing his hoodie and bandana and throwing them at a ring hand. The Murder Machine climbs the ring post and hits a sinister crucifix pose to a MASSIVE POP. Crow soaks up the adulation for a moment before waving his opponent on. After the pop, Crow leaps down and leans his muscular back against the ring post, assuming a demeanour of nonchalance, tinged with cold, almost sociopathic, menace.
The two eye each other, ready to tear the others head off as once again, all the lights in the arena turn off and the crowd begins to buzz. An arid mixture of red, yellow, and orange tinted lights hit the stage which is designed to look like a beach, but suddenly resembles a desert under the tempered glow. The sands begin to shift, breezing this way and that as a hollow whistle sounds throughout the arena. A figure jumps through the sand, followed by another, and another, and another. The figures continue to leap from the dunes as if they were there all along. They line up along the ramp as the hot lights melt away.
David Lynch's "The Pink Room" hits in the darkness. Golden spotlights scan the audience, and smoke pours out in front of the deep red lights that glow just beyond the curtain. An explosion sets off two pillars of fire on the stage, and Dune emerges in their wake.
Jimmy Garcia: It's him! Dune is here in the UCI!
Gravedigger: WHAT A NIGHT!
He stands atop the ramp and takes in the scene, acknowledging the UCI Faithful before he turns toward the ring. His cold eyes remain fixed on it as he strides down the ramp.
Taylor Lorde: Making his way to the ring...from the badlands of the Mojave Desert...weighing in at 276 pounds...DUUUUUNE!
The ring glows amidst the darkness as he slides in and shoots to his feet. He walks around the inner-perimeter, looking out at the crowd before turning towards the two competitors in the ring. He stares down both Crow and Howie before holding his hand out for the UCI World Heavyweight Championship. Crow hesitates for only a moment before handing over the belt. Dune stares at it, his face basking in the familiar golden glow before he holds it in the air and the crowd pops. He hands it over to a ring hand before calling for the bell...
Jimmy Garcia: Howie and Crow OFF WITH AN EXPLOSION OF OFFENSE!
Gravedigger: This isn't going to be any typical wrestling match, Jimmy. These men want blood from the other...and by god, I think we're going to get it.
The two men exchange rapid blows to any exposed area of flesh they can find. Howie with a quick dusting of Crow's face knocks the Murder Machine off balance. Howie uses this to his advantage and topples the larger man into the ropes...but Crow blasts back with a murderous lariat...but Howard ducks. They both whip around to catch the other in a working hold, but Crow uses his size to his advantage and pushes Howie down towards the mat.
Jimmy Garcia: The champions gaining the advantage here!
Gravedigger: Don't count Howie out just yet...
A quick elbow to Crow's gut knocks him backwards and Howie lines up an enziguiri, but Crow catches the smaller man in the air and switches positions to a Jewish – cuz German would be offensive in this case – suplex. He launches Howard, but Howard lands on his feet and bounces off the ropes, flying back with a massive springboard dropkick that knocks Crow to his back. Howard doesn't take the easy way out, he quickly lines up another springboard attack and jets towards Crow with violent intensity!
Jimmy Garcia: Howard Black not holding anything back right now! He wants the UCI World Heavyweight Championship so bad, he can almost taste the gold!
Gravedigger: How far is he willing to go, though?
Howard plummets on top of Crow with a stiff splash, knocking the wind directly out of both men. They both move around, but Howie gets to Crow first and throws his arm over the champion.
ONE...
TW...
Jimmy Garcia: Shoulder up at two and the match continues!
Howie slaps the mat as he lifts Crow by the base of his hair to his feet. He goes for a strong knee to the face, but Crow catches his leg! He whips Howie back, but Black uses the momentum and backflips! He lands on his feet...just to eat a devestating lariat from Crow, knocking the challenger to the mat! Crow fires a few stomps on Black before talking some shit.
Crow McMorris: Is that what you wanted Howard? Is this how you imagined this would go?!
Crow jumps and drops a devastating knee directly on Howard's chest, causing him to lurch forward in pain, grasping his collar.
Jimmy Garcia: A broken bone could be the least of his worries.
Crow McMOrris: Get up Howard! Get up and face me!
Howard rolls to his stomach and lifts himself to a knee, clutching his chest, and Crow fires off a massive roundhouse...but Howard barely dips out of the way. He rolls to the corner and leaps to his feet, where Crow is waiting with a body splash...but Howard rolls out of the corner and Crow bounces off the turnbuckle. Howard jets off the ropes and catches Crow with a hurricanrana...but Crow latches on and lifts Howard up, slamming him to the mat with a crushing powerbomb!...but Crow isn't finished! He lifts Howard up off the mat once again and drops him with a sitout powerbomb, hooking his legs for the three count.
ONE...
TWO...
Howard manages to shove out of the pin attempt and rolls backwards, crawling away from the towering World Champion. Crow smiles as he follows Howard around the ring.
Crow McMorris: Not so tall now are you, Lost Boy? Where's your God now?! He certainly isn't in this ring with y...
But Howard's had enough! He launches to his feet and uppercuts Crow in the throat, stunning the champion as he fires off a striking combo. Haymaker to the face, busting Crow wide open, another uppercut to the gut, finishing off with a roundhouse kick that stumbles the champ into the ropes. Howard roars and blasts Crow off the top rope with a dropkick that rumbles the arena. Dune stands by as the two men tear each other to shreds.
Jimmy Garcia: Howard draws first blood tonight!
Gravedigger: This...these men...wow...
Howard struggles to get to his feet as Crow shakes off the concussive fall to the hard arena floor. Howard shakes his head, slapping himself in the face, punching the mat.
Howard Black: Fuck...fuck fuck!
Howard gets to his feet and runs to the ropes, bouncing off and flying off the opposite side with a suicide dive...but Crow catches him!
Jimmy Garcia: MURDER OF CROWS TO THE ARENA FLOOR!
Both men hit the floor, not even daring to get to their feet. Crow begins to tremble, as if his soulless husk had to reset. Howard groans and spits as he struggles to move, his entire body threatening to give way now. Dune doesn't even count for the men outside, perfectly content to let this match play itself out. Crow crawls to his feet using the apron and lumbers towards Howard. He grabs him by the base of his skull and lifts him to his feet, driving his forearm into his head.
Howard bounds away from Crow and stumbles into the steps. Crow backs up a few paces and launches towards Howard with a driving boot attempting to take Howard's head clean off...but Howie barely sidesteps and hits Crow with a drop toe hold that drives him face first into the steel steps, opening the gash on his face even further. The coagulated blood drips from Crow's cheek as he slides down the steps and back to the arena floor. Howie stumbles around, nursing his chest with a look of fury in his eyes.
Gravedigger: Does Howard feel his chances of becoming UCI World Champion slipping away?
Jimmy Garcia: Not after a move like that, it takes tremendous awareness of your surroundings and pro timing to pull off something like that.
Howard climbs up on the barricade as droves of fans attempt to touch any part of him they can. He jerks away from them and waits for his moment. Crow gets to his feet as Howard runs along the barricade and dives into Crow, catches him around the head and drives it into the ring apron!
Crowd: OOOOOHHHHH!!!
Both men fall to the arena floor again, but this time it's Crow struggling to move. Howie hammer fists the floor below him.
Howard Black: I'm sorry...I'm sorry...
Jimmy Garcia: What? He's sorry? For what?
Gravedigger: What the hell is going on?
Howie gets to his feet and lifts a limp Crow to his feet, throwing him under the bottom rope. He climbs in after him and goes for the pin.
ONE...
TWO...
Jimmy Garcia: NO! MY GOD! HOW DID CROW KICK OUT OF THAT?!
Gravedigger: You've got to dig way down deep if you want to be a World Champion, especially in the UCI. This isn't a game. This is as real as it gets, and both of these men are proving that here tonight!
Howard begins to blast the mat with punch after punch, becoming immensely frustrated that he didn't score the pinfall.
Howard Black: FUCK!
Crow starts to stir as Howard rages. Howard turns to see Crow climbing to his knee, bounces off the ropes and blasts Crow with a falling knee...but Crow falls backwards and dodges the move. Howard eats the mat and rolls as Crow uses the ropes to get to his feet. Howard launches to his feet and the two begin to circle the ring. The crowd heats up as the two men look for their spot, waiting for the other to slip. Crow smiles, throwing Howie off for just a second, which Crow uses to blast Howard with a combination of strikes, ending in a stiff elbow that busts Howard's forehead clean open. Blood spills to the mat as Howard nurses the wound, but Crow doesn't give him a second to breath.
Crow lifts Howard off his feet and shoots him face first into the top turnbuckle, then lifts him up for a skull shattering brainbuster, driving Howard's head right into the mat. Howard, now limp on the ground, is open perfectly for an attack. Crow grabs him around the midsection and launches Howard with that avalanche Jewish suplex, holds on twice more for extra impact. Howard is nearly lifeless on the ground. Crow grabs him around the wrist and drags him towards the turnbuckle, climbs up, and leaps off with that awe inspiring moonsault from the top rope. He hooks Howard's leg for the pinfall.
ONE...
TWO...
THREE...
…
Jimmy Garcia: NO! HOWARD BLACK GETS THE SHOULDER UP! HOW?! HOW?!
Gravedigger: He wants to win, that's how! He wants that World Championship around his waist, that's how! Nothing is going to stop him from achieving what he sets his mind to. Nothing.
Crow is absolutely flabbergasted. The smile has dissapeared from his derelict face. His eyes no longer empty, instead full of worry and anger. He gets to his feet, dragging Howard with him. He grabs him around the throat, tight, and lifts him into the air.
Jimmy Garcia: The CROWBREAKER! IT'S OVER!...
Howard knees Crow in the face on the way up and Crow loosens his grip. Howard lands on his feet and wraps his arms around Crow's, falling backwards and digging his legs in deep to the Murder Machine's midsection.
Jimmy Garcia: KIMURA LOCK! HE'S GOT THE KIMURA LOCKED IN TIGHT!
Gravedigger: CROW'S STRUGGLING TO BREAK FREE!
Jimmy Garcia: Once Howie has the Kimura locked in, there's little to no chance of escape! Many men have fallen to this move, and many more will! Will Crow be next?!
Howard digs the Kimura in deep as Crow struggles against the leverage. He reaches his one free hand out towards the ropes. It's the only thing he can do! Howard's dug in so deep he's rooted in the ring! Crow struggles, he reaches for the ropes, they're nowhere close. His hand slowly lifts up...
Jimmy Garcia: We could have a new World Champion!
Gravedigger: ...Is he tapping?!
Jimmy Garcia: ….
Gravedigger: NO!
Crow slaps his hand to the mat, but instead uses the force to lift himself up off the ground, taking Howie with him. Howard tries to lock in the Kimura tighter, but Crow's newfound position won't allow it. Crow slams Howie into the turnbuckle repeatedly until he's forced to relent his hold. Crow decks him with his less hurt arm and knocks Howard back into the turnbuckle! A knee drives into Howard's gut as Crow whips him into the opposite turnbuckle. Crow charges and hits a huge basement dropkick that rocks the Lost Boy's world. Howie rolls out of the turnbuckle and towards the center of the ring as Crow throws another arm over the chest of Black.
ONE...
TWO...
THR...
Jimmy Garcia: ANOTHER KICK OUT FROM HOWARD BLACK! THIS MAIN EVENT CONTINUES!
Crowd: HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK!
Crow climbs to his feet, that rage and hatred continuing to build in his eyes...but suddenly, it all washes away, replaced instead by a melancholy look of pity and remorse. He lifts Howard Black to his feet, holding him up by his arm, looking him dead in the eye.
Crow McMorris: I'm sorry, Howard. I can't save you.
He lifts Howie in the air...but Howard catches Crow's leg, cementing his spot on the ground. He knees Crow in the gut and wraps his arm again with that Kimura.
Howard Black: YOU JUST DON'T GET IT CROW, DO YOU?
He wrenches the hold again as he locks those legs in tight. He digs deep.
Howard Black: I'M SORRY...
Howard digs in even deeper, deeper now!
Howard Black: I'M SORRY!!! I LOVE YOU!!!
You can almost hear the bones popping and the flesh tearing as Crow reaches high up in the air, his hand threatening to tap...but instead his hand falls limp to the mat as he passes out from the tremendous amount of pain Howard is putting him through. Dune cuts in and calls for the bell, separating the two men by pulling Howard away from Crow and holding him against the turnbuckle. He manages to calm Howard down as the ring hand gives him the belt. Dune hands it to Howard and holds his hand in the air as the crowd gives him a mixed reaction.
Jimmy Garcia: Wow. What a sight. To see these two men, once friends, absolutely demolish each other like that. Deeply saddening.
Gravedigger: You have to remember what was at stake here, what's always on the line. Somebody has to lose, somebody always has to lose, and Howard Black wasn't going to be the one this time. He wanted to prove he isn't the “best that never was” and be the best there is.
Jimmy Garcia: Upsetting. Sickening. These are all words that will be used to describe Beachmania in the fu...WOAH MY GOD!
Howard drives the UCI World Championship into the face of Dune, knocking him down to the mat in a tattered heap. He points at the belt, then to himself, then to the camera before dropping and rolling out of the ring to a tremendous heaping of boos! He slings the belt over his shoulder as he walks backwards up the ramp, leaving the two beaten men in the ring...a smile creeping up over his leering face. |
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