Summer Games XI

[So.]

[It comes to this.]

[The World Wrestling Alliance dangles by a hope and a nightmare. From our very inception there have been pre-conditioned notions of failure from nay-sayers near and far. Whispers of closure danced through the hallways of venues across the World as we scratched our way out of a toilet in Mexico and into the history books as the fastest rising and brightest burning Alliance in an oversaturated pool of flashy advertisement and and second-thought booking.]

[For years we called ourselves the best.]

[The only.]

[And then one day, while nobody was paying close attention, it all went tits to the wind. But that was okay too, because years passed before anyone really paid attention to the problems at hand. And hey, there were probably some highlights in there, too.]

[Aerius Hyrule?]

[Mr. Batee?]

[Brad Jackson?]

[OCW?]

[You know.]

[So.]

[It comes to this.]

[A tournament booked on a handshake.]

[A generation hanging in the balance.]

[This was the big one, win or go home.]

[Arlington, Texas.]

[Cowboys Stadium.]

[Eighty-thousand loud motherfuckers with wrestling addictions looked skyward at the sixty yard wide mega-fucking awesome, World’s Largest High-Definition displaying Jerry-Tron showing a video specially made for Summer Games XI.]

[GWAR.]

[Sick of You.]

# Sick! (Sick) Of!
# (Of) Youuuuu.
# I'm so sick, so sick of you.

[The camera pans.]

[Fireworks explode.]

[Pictures flash.]

[An old lady has a heart attack.]

[We’re a really big fucking deal.]

[SRSLY]

[We skip the obligatory bullshit opening montage of either the events leading up to the show or the glorious victories at tournaments previous.]

[Instead, we skip right to the makeshift “Summer Games” Studio, which is the regular setup for Defiance TV broadcasts with a “WWA (sucks)” bumper sticker slapped crookedly on the front of the desk.]

[Let’s say he’s in Jerry Jones’ personal suite.]

Angus Skaaland:
HOLY FUCKAPPLES!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

[We went all out this time, piping Angus live through the big ass TV in the stadium.]

Angus Skaaland:
It’s time for MOTHERFUCKING Summer Games!

Damien DeSett:
Yeeeeeah! I’m gonna throw the javelin!

Angus:
What in fuck’s name are you doing here?

[To the left unseen is the door to the private bathroom of Mr. Jones’ personal suite. Which Pete Whealdon bursts out of, holding a coffee maker labeled “property of the WWA”.]..Pete Whealdon:.Hi guys! I’m Pete Whealdon! HIGH FLYING ACTION!! FANS!!! Whoa, Damien! What’s up bro!

Angus:
GAH! AND YOU! I fucking quit.

[Pete Whealdon looks at Angus and strokes his chin thoughtfully.]

Pete Whealdon:
Damien! When did Kevin get a new body?

Damien DeSett:
Pete this is Anus Skatland, and he wants to know why we’re here. I couldn’t think of anything.

[Pete strokes his chin thoughtfully.]

Pete Whealdon:
Well Anus Kevin, I’m gonna let you know right now why we are here.

[Angus Skaaland is not amused.]

Angus:
I am not amused. What is a Kevin?

Muffled Voice From Beneath Angus’s Desk:
Mmmheheh...

[Pete Whealdon looks confusedly at Angus Skaaland. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.]..Pete Whealdon:
Did you eat Kevin? WHERE IS KEVIN!!!! FANS!!!

[He sets his coffee maker down on the desk with a resounding thud, doing his best detective look, only looking in the wrong direction, at a ficus plant.]

[Things get tense.]..Pete Whealdon:
I’ll have you know Anus Kevin, that if you don’t return Kevin to us immediately! Damien here-

[He slaps Damien in the chest. Damien winces.]..Pete Whealdon:
We’ll be forced to shave your head with a bananananananananna...nanan.. alabanana... babanan?..[Pete looks lost. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.]

Angus:
Did you hear something from under my desk? And you...

[He wags a finger at DeSett.]

Angus:
Want to translate?

Damien DeSett:
Well Anus, “Sweet” Pete’s a man of many words, and sometimes I don’t always understand them, but I think what he’s trying to say is that the Fuckbolts are here on a mission. And that mission is [Damien reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper] “Single B&M Wine Quantity: 2 Amount 1.98 Sub Total 1.98 Tax .17 TOTAL $2.15”. YEAH!

[Pete suddenly gets it. He slaps Damien in the chest again. Damien promptly falls to the ground.]

Pete Whealdon:
That’s right, and if you think $2.15 is going to be the end all Anus “Kevin” Skatland, eater of Dark Lords, then think again. Because we’re the Fuckbolts, and no one can stop us from winning Summer Games Eleven! Every other team, including the one with the monkeys, we’ve been training hard at the zoo, facing down monkey’s and gorilla’s, and we've even been sleeping in the sloth cage at night, getting our nocturnal routine down, and you don’t even know what we know, because we’ve forgotten more about what we don’t know than you will even ever know about what we do know about what you don’t know about what is known to be knowing about knowing these things, and lastly, when you think you know what we know about what you know about what we forgot to know, and you have to look the Fuckbolts in all four of our eyes, and you have to stare about knowledge and knowing, you remember this..
“Single B&M Wine Quantity: 2 Amount 1.98 Sub Total 1.98 Tax .17 TOTAL 2.15”. FANS!.
[From behind Pete the morpher alert sound from Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers is heard as Damien DeSett springs to his feet, cell phone in hand.]

Damien DeSett:
Sorry guys, we’re gonna have to forfeit the shot put competition. I’ve got some important business to take care of!

[”The Comedian” rushes into the bathroom from whence “Sweet” Pete came.]

[Pete Whealdon follows suit, instead of running in to the bathroom, he grabs his coffee maker and sprints headlong in to a wall. Knocking himself unconscious, and breaking the coffee maker.]

Angus:
What. The. Fuck. Hey!

[A rustling sound is heard as Angus backs away from his desk. From beneath, a fat man with black-framed, coke-bottle-lensed glasses wearing a cheap Devil costume from several Halloween seasons past appears.]

Kevin “Satan” Alloy:
Mmmhehehhh...Mmmmhahahheheh...  Tell me Angus, have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight?

Angus:
...

Kevin “Satan” Alloy:
Would you like to? Come on, you lead! MwaAHhaahhahAHAHAhahAHAHAhhaa!!!

[The Mouth of Defiance surveys the situation in shocked amusement.]

Angus:
Do you know where you are?

Kevin “Satan” Alloy:
Uuuhhhmmmhhehehh.. Is this Gloria Jean’s?

Angus:
No, fatpants, it’s Summer Games. Do you know what that means?

[Kevin/Satan glances about his surroundings, then returns his focus to Angus with a shrug.]

Angus:
It means VERY IMPORTANT STUFF!

[He huffs and he puffs.]

Angus:
LIKE THIS!

[The camera cuts.]

[Back in the arena proper everything has gone dark.]

[Eighty-thousand fans light lighters, cell-phones, and joints full of skank-weed, shimmering with excitement. They were only about to witness the single most important Pay-Per-View event in the history of the wrestling business and/or the universe.]


=-=-=


[An infamous guitar riff blared through the many speakers of the massive stadium. The song was instantly known to everyone in the stadium, and the boos rained down on the entranceway as they awaited the man that had used that song as his entrance song for over a decade. A single green spotlight shined on the entrance.]

[From the back, out walked the two time WWA World Champion Cobra, with his teammate and legendary wrestler in his own right, Stephen Greer.]

[The spotlight followed the two men as they made their way down the long entrance ramp to ringside, the fans continued their verbal assault on the two men. Over the last year, these two men had been at the center of a long battle between Defiance Wrestling and the WWA. They had fought, clawed, and cheated their way to World Championships, something the fans in Texas were sure to make them aware of their opinions of their title reigns.]

[The two men entered the ring and took in the moment. This was after all Summer Games. The biggest event in sports, period.]

Cobra:
Summer Games XI!

RAAAAAAH!

Cobra:
The biggest show of them all! The pinnacle of wrestling. The Mecca for all wrestlers. A show so important, that just winning this puts you on a pedestal so high, even the WWA World Champion looks up to you. And tonight, the WWA World Title is on the line. Tonight, this truly is the greatest Summer Games of them all!

RAAAAAAH!

Cobra:
For nearly a month, the world has been talking about who will be the third member of Team Hydra. Every name in the book has been mentioned. And yet, here we are, at the opening of Summer Games and we still do not know who the mystery partner is. The names are great. Stars, legends, even a god have been guessed, but no one has found out who the mystery partner is.

Johnny Lightning, Tyrone Walker, London Freemantle, Boston Bancroft, Dusty Griffith. All names that have come out as favorites to be the mystery partner. All are wrong. All are just not important enough for such a large stage that is Summer Games. No. Tonight we need someone bigger, grander. We need someone worthy of the stage we now stand on.

And what better place than Summer Games to have the arrival of the one true god, to have the arrival of our lord and savior.

BOOOO!

Cobra:
The third member of Team Hydra. The one that will all lead us to salvation. The one and true god. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give to you, the mighty JORMUNGAND!

[Cobra dropped to his knees and started to pray.]

[Over the speakers came the sounds of druid chanting. The words from another language, from a distant age once forgotten by society. Several moments passed with nothing changing. The spotlight that shined on the two men in the ring then started to grow larger and larger until the entire stadium had a green glow.]

[Out from the backstage area walked countless Serpentalists, several dozen at the very least. Each one dressed in identical Green hooded robes. The Serpentalists lined the walkway to the ring as the chanting became louder and louder. Then as abruptly as it started, the chanting stopped. And then there was silence.]

[A moment passed before fog started to fill the entranceway. A shadow of a figure appeared at the entrance. Very human, yet looking completely alien. Jormungand started his slow walk to ringside. Dressed in the very same green robe, Jormungand was wearing a very unique piece of headgear, one that looked as if Cobra’s mask had maybe been designed as an homage to this.]

[Or possibly the other way around?]

[As Jormungand made his way to the ring, the Serpentalists each fell to their knees in front of him, going into prayer in front of the man. After several minutes, Jormungand had finally reached the ring and climbed the stairs attached to the ring. With each step, the lights got brighter and whiter. Once he was on the apron of the ring, the lights were back to full power and there was no hint of green. With the help of Stephen Greer, Jormungand entered the ring, still wearing his headgear.]

[He slowly walked over to Cobra and touched his shoulder which caused Cobra to stop praying and stood.]

Cobra:
BEHOLD! The mighty Jormungand has arrived. The mighty Jormungand is the third member of Team Hydra. The final battle between good and evil has finally started.

Tonight you will be witness to the greatest night in humanity. Tonight you will see the end of all the sins and evil in this world. Those that are not pure will perish. Those that have not repented will pay for their sins. Tonight, the Serpent has come to save us all.

[Jormungand raised his arms slowly. Once they reached up above his head, he pulled them down as fast as he could and as he did, four bolts of lightning struck the ring posts with a loud thunderous clap. The light was a brilliant flash, the heat intense, felt by more than the first couple of sections on the floor. The group was a buzz of the fantastic display.]

Cobra:
The long and hard battle has begun, may the first victims be an example for those backstage and throughout the world.

[Cobra walked over to the edge of the ring and called for a referee to enter the ring and for the ring announcer to announce their opponents.]

Ring Announcer:
This is a first round bout in the Summer Games tournament. Introducing first, The “King of Pain” Stephen Greer, the two time WWA World Champion Cobra, and the mighty god Jormungand, this is Team Hyyyyydraaaaaa!

BOOOOOO!!!

Ring Announcer:
And their opponents. From the former Alliance region Wrestling Midwest. Here is Team WMW!

[All attention was drawn to the entranceway, yet there was no movement.]

Cobra:
Ring the bell. Count them out.

[The referee started to protest, but was quickly silenced when Jormungand took a step towards him, which caused the referee to nervously signal for the bell.]

DING DING DING

[The referee started to count out Team WMW.]

Referee:
ONE!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
TWO!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
THREE!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
FOUR!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
FIVE!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
SIX!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
SEVEN!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
EIGHT!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
NINE!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Referee:
TEN!

Serpentalists:
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

[The referee waved his hands in the air and called for the bell. Then scurried out of the ring before Team Hydra could notice.]

DING DING DING

Ring Announcer:
Here are your winners and moving on to the finals rumble of Summer Games, Stephen Greer, Cobra and Jormungand. Team Hyyyydraaaaa!


=-=-=


Angus:
So, Cobra, Greer, and Big Van Snakeface are going into the finals.

Kevin/Satan:
It’s good to see Jormungand again. He looks like he’s doing well, and his big head’s as shiny and bulbous as ever.

Angus:
... I shouldn’t even ask, but how, pray tell, do you know Jormungand?

Kevin/Satan:
Well it’s a long story, but back at the dawn of time before Jormungand learned his role in the greater cosmos, Satan once defeated him in a Loser Leaves Hell match to retain his dominion as King of the Damned. Meltzer gave it five stars! It was a pretty hot commodity amongst the tablet traders at the time.

Angus:
Right... the tablet traders... Gotcha.


=-=-=


[Dressed in camouflage, Team Missouri Valley Wrestling (Miss USA, Angel Casey, and Angel Scott) leave their dressing room and head towards the ring.]

[Dawn McGill and her Singapore takes the lead.  Jackie Daniels follows right behind her.  'Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl' Tessa Martin, holding up her loaded pizza box, trails behind Miss USA, Casey, and Scott.]

[MVW's ace backstage reporter Paige McGillicutty awaits as the six, wearing grim expressions and looking rather intense tonight, make their way towards her.]

Paige:
Miss USA.  Can I get a word-

[Miss USA waves her away and the group continues on towards the ring.]

Paige:
I guess not.


=-=-=


Angus:
Fiery words from the ladies of Missourri Valley Wrestling! Such intensity! You can practically feel the heat! Or is it just getting hot in here...

Kevin/Satan:
Satan is just preparing Tessa Martin’s own fiery fate for having failed to deliver Satan’s order within the promised 30 minutes!

Angus:
You ordered pizza? Sweet! Waitaminute - Give me back my lighter! Do not light that ficus!

Kevin/Satan:
MmehHeheehehmeeheheh...

=-=-=


[Deep inside the bowels of the massive tribute to the ego of Jerry Jones, Cowboys Stadium in Dallas, there were many different areas with crap stashed in 'em. This was one of them.]

[Dark, full of boxes, and cool, just what the doctor ordered. Dallas was STILL hot as balls. And so, Boston Bancroft sat by himself, perched on a big metal shipping crate, a towel around his neck. Sunglasses were tossed onto the crate beside him, and Boston was already in his ring gear. Shin-high black wrestling boots, tight spandex with golden bands up and down the legs.

[Eighteen in all! Reppin' the eighteen various Federation-wide, or World-level titles Boston had won in his career. Not that he liked to brag or any such thing.]

[Perish the thought.]

[Boston was silent, his hands clasped above his groin, deep in thought. Slight muscle twitches in legs, arms, or chest, beneath the beaten-up AWF tee-shirt that Boston wore in jest betrayed what he was doing. The veteran was running through moves, or spots, or other assorted wrestling situations in his head, and trying to figure out how to get out of them. It was important to know the escapes from the various favorite holds of those he'd be fighting tonight.]

[Around the corner, just to the left of the screen walked in three men.]

[Well. Two actual men and an annoying little imp that only technically counted as "man," skittering along slightly behind them. Murray Monroe was dressed as usual, a dirty, funk-infested, sweat-stained black polo, black refereeing slacks, his characteristic black trucker cap covering his greasy mane and one of the WWA World Tag Team Title belts clutched tightly to his left shoulder. Next two him were his two top clients. Some might say his only two clients. Jesse James, luckily not competing tonight, had on a pair of faded jeans, beaten-up ol' cowboy boots and an unbuttoned grey work shirt with his WWA World Tag Team strap around his waist. More important to James tonight was the beer in his hand. Joe Drago, who was most definitely competing in this event was already in his ring gear, trademark white towel covering his face.]

Murray Monroe:
Well, well, well, daddy, look who's here! The man who decided to crash the party tonight, last years winner.

[Boston snapped his fingers, pointing an index directly at Drago's chest.]

Boston Bancroft:
Joe Drago. The Wolf's Bite. Suplex into throat slam. Pretty cool move, man. It's got flash, and it's got impact. Major parts of a balanced breakfast.

[Boston smiled blandly, completely ignoring Murray, as if he were some sort of humming little insect. Which he essentially was.]

[Murray was about to say something but stopped upon feeling Drago's hand as he placed it on his shoulder. Drago, white towel still covering his face looked towards Boston, as Jesse James took a swig of his beer.]

Joe Drago:
The Boston Massacre, camel clutch. You sink that in with viciousness, I can respect that.

[Boston gave a manly nod of approval, jutting his chin out a touch. Hands moved to his sides, resting on the steel box.]

Boston Bancroft:
You do good work in the ring, dude. Keep at it, and keep that little pissant manager guy around. He's good heat, plain and simple. Good luck in the event. Despite any promoing to the contrary, I'm damn excited to have been asked to come and face all of y'all in this shebang.

Murray Monroe:
Hey now daddy, the money man ain't no...

[Murray stops as he feels Drago's hand clenching tighter on his shoulder.]

Joe Drago:
Murray serves his purpose, he does it well enough. You took the chance and jumped right into the fire here, I respect that. I'm looking forward to seeing you in the final rumble, it should be a great battle.

DING~![/i]

[The shiny elevator door's opened, and there, leaning against the back-wall, was the Cool one.]

[Cancer Jiles.  CCJ.  Mr. Cool.  The COOL anything.  The Anything COOL.  COOL anything the... eh?]

[Whatever.]

[You get it.]

[Playing the role of gentleman and scholar, and the guy who's just about on everyones last nerve... the slayer of all unCOOL things couldn't be any happier about that last little ditty.]

CCJ: (before exiting the tin box)
It's the smaller things in life that I most look forward to... like winning Summer Games.

[The COOL as well, was already dressed down in his ring gear.  He was donning some COOL, SG edition shades, and was oozing with a distinctive swagger and charisma.  He's also a note or two from fully zoned in, as if the magnitude of Summer Games was failing to resonate completely.]

CCJ: (relieved)
Yeah, this looks like a good place to get high.

[A smile, followed by what any normal human being would say after finding Boston Bancroft and Joe Drago hanging out in the dark basement.]

CCJ: (With a freaked out look on his face.)
What are you two queers doing down here?  

[Boston slowly turned his head to look at COOL Cancer Jiles, giving him the same oatmeal look that Boston gave to Murray Monroe.]

Boston Bancroft:
Mentally preparing for a big match, trying to keep from having too many potheads find me and bother me with dumb questions and even worse insinuations of... Well, anything. Why, what are you doing down here?

CCJ: (reeling)
Who... me?  What am I doing here?  This is my building... for tonight.  What kind of silly question is that?

[Awkward silence for a second as Drago and his entourage just stare at the self-proclaimed COOL Champion.]

Joe Drago:
What have we got here. It's the egg throwing frat boy. The biggest joke to professional wrestling since Xander Youngston cut promos after banging his step mom.

CCJ: (excited)
JOE!  Finally!  Did you ever pick up my dry cleaning?

[If it weren't for the stakes being so high, I believe that last quip would have started a fist fight.]

Joe Drago: (you can’t see it but he’s annoyed as hell underneath the white towel)
Is everything so fucking hilarious to you, you snot nosed little prick? This isn’t DREAM boy, this is the big time.

Murray Monroe: (Cutting in):
Yeah, daddy! It's Summer Games!

[Joe gave a stern look to Murray.]

Joe Drago:
It's no place for little kid games.

Boston Bancroft:
Hey, boys and girls.

[Boston waved, getting the attention of everyone in the room, before giving a meaningful look to Murray Monroe, giving him a wink. There was the girl in question.]

Boston Bancroft:
I don't know if either of you know this. But I've been in one of these before. Lemme tell you, they suck out loud and are almost as tiring as an orgy. You two may want to save your strength until the finals, because that's when every Tom, Dick and Freemantle will be gunning for blood.

CCJ: (confused)
How in the Quantum Leap-Hell were you smart enough to figure out my last-letter plan?  You stealing signs... you cheating son of a bitch?  I bet you are... I ought to have you arrested... or fined like that screw ball in New England.  On second thought... Drago, do my dirty work, again... and arrest that buffoon damn it!

[.....]

CCJ: (angry)
I said do it NOW!

[Sensing things escalating, Jesse James slides the beer in his hand down to a defensive position, as if to use it as a weapon but is met with a wicked glance by Drago, telling him to stand down.]

Joe Drago:
Listen kid. I don’t like you, you probably don’t like me and I don’t give a fuck if you did. You don’t have your egg throwing frat boys here with you, and don’t think about pulling any sandbag stunts like you did to the snake man. I’ll snap your fucking neck before you can think up the next annoying words to come out of your pie hole.

[Boston just leaned back a touch, a hand coming to his mouth to hide his mouth's wriggling. He was trying very, very hard not to bust out laughing. Both sides of this were immensely entertaining, and it was damn hard to keep from egging them on(eGG Banditing them on! Hi-yooooo!), or at least laughing at both men tearing into one another.]

Murray Monroe: (interrupting)
Whoa, whoa, whoa, daddy! Why don‘t we all just cool it for a second, huh?

[Murray stops realizing the word he just used.]

Murray Monroe:
It’s Summer Games, daddy! The big time! We wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt before they even got in the ring, right? Not that the baddest man on the planet here, the wrestling machine would get hurt, daddy.

CCJ:
Wait a second... I can't handle this as a "normie."

[Making a move for the joint, Cancer sparked up a doobie.]

CCJ: (exhaling a smoky, white, skunky sigh of relief)
What the fuck is the deal with all the "Daddy" shit?  Like... I don't even know what to say about it... and that is really saying something... cause I'm COOL and all.

[Is Cancer Jiles getting high, DURING SUMMER GAMES?]

[Facepalm.]

[Wait...]

[He is COOL.]

[This was some of what Boston missed, about wrestling. The hate-fuelled tirades of grown man versus grown man. God, he wished he had some popcorn for this shit. At the same time, two men were posturing and trying to show that they were badder than the rest, when they had the golden opportunity to find out for sure later tonight, in that very ring.]

[There is a spark in the eye of the former drug addicted Jesse James as he watches Jiles take a hit from his doobie. He steps back and just takes another swig from his beer as Murray Monroe steps forward towards Jiles.]

Murray Monroe:
Hey daddy, how about letting the money man take a hit of that. It’s for medicinal…

[Murray stops as he feels Drago’s hand clenching his shoulder tightly.]

Murray Monroe: (looking at Drago, pleadingly)
Come on daddy, the money man has a big night planned. It will help me relax, I got big plans with those ladies on team MVW later tonight.

CCJ: (loaded with heavy mayonnaise sarcasm)
Yeah... you're going to score all right.  

[Before Murry could advance, Cancer raised his hand in such a way, that it could be interpreted as him asking for silence.]

CCJ: (putting things in a COOL perspective)
Monroe Noshot, you got about as good a chance at scoring with them broads, as your Italian Stallion does at winning tonight. Or BA-STIN for that matter... being that you guys is hanging out with the winner and all.

Murray Monroe: (looking back at Cancer)
Whats that supposed to mean daddy? I'm the manager of champions, the ladies man, Murray Monroe and Drago's not Italian he's...

[Murray is cut off as Drago removes the white towel from his head and stuffs it into the annoyingly loud mouth of his manager. He menacingly stares ice daggers into his manager before advancing his gaze towards Jiles.]

CCJ: (pondering)
Maybe I was wrong about you...

[Boston hopped off of his metal crate, landing on the floor with both feet. Hands went to his hips, and Boston towered over all of the other wrestlers in the room. Everyone suddenly remembered... "Oh yeah, Boston Bancroft was a big dude."]

Boston Bancroft:
Well, kiddies. It's been fun. Drago, good luck whippin' ass against Team Girlfight. I somehow think that you lot are going to win, so I'll see you in the finals.

[Drago nodded approvingly as if to offer the same thoughts to his potential opponent later on, as Boston's finger slowly traveled over to CCJ.]

Boston Bancroft:
Jiles, you are one of the most cocky, arrogant dudes I have ever met. If you make it to the finals, I absolutely cannot WAIT to get a chance to fight you. We'll get to see which loudmouth has the better skills and the better ability.

[The finger slowly traveled back to Boston's own chest.]

Boston Bancroft:
But as for me? I wanted some peace. And I'm gonna go get it. So you four can keep snarling like leashed dogs if you want, but I'm gonna save my words for the matches.

[Eyes slowly travelled back to CCJ.]

Boston Bancroft:
And you an' I should smoke my victory blunt after the show. The thing looks like a tree limb.

[Boston Bancroft grabbed up his own shades, and slid 'em on. Now, the tall, bald, black man looked suave. He gave a winning, shiny grin, spun on his heel, and was gone down the hallway, like a ghost in the night.]

[Talk about COOL.]

[Drago walked up to CCJ and looked menacingly at him.]

Joe Drago:
Good luck to you tonight if you make it to the finals. You'll need it.

[With that he walked off, followed by James and Murray.]

[...]

[Murray popped back onto the screen, alone and looked at Jiles.]

Murray Monroe:
So how about that hit, daddy?

[And with that the screen fades out.]


=-=-=


Angus:
While I honestly hope the guy dies a horrible death at the hands of the Hydra tonight, I told Cancer he could burn one in here. But, he said he didn’t have enough to go around. Too bad for him I scored an 8-ball for later tonight and no Murray you’re not invited to the after party!

Kevin/Satan:
Sorry Mr. Angus but Satan has devoured your confectioner’s sugar.

Angus:
!!!

Kevin/Satan:
Satan can no longer feel his tongue!

Angus:
Oh for the love of Christ...

=-=-=

[Jimmy Kort told the world he should be at Summer Games. He had been shouting it from the mountain tops, he had been thinking of getting it tattooed on his forehead, or posted on a billboard. But instead of doing any of those things, he did what a normal person would do.]

[He got a motherfucking ticket.]

[He went online, to Craigslist, and he found a ticket. They were going cheap because apparently everything sucks now a days in the Alliance world and the economy is bad so people need the quick money.]

[So here he was right in front of the PPV watchers, right in the middle of THEE event.]

Kort:
I told y'all I'd make it here. I told y'all I deserved to be here.

[Kort smiles and nods his head. The FCC is on stand by incase he starts a racist rant, that's the negative press the Alliance doesn't need.]

Kort:
Truth a'the matter is I hope Team Defiance and Hydra get beat down. Neither a'them deserve to win this thing.

Now it's important to note when I say Hydra I mean Grand Daddy a'Pain his mystery partner and a'course the luckiest summabitch alive JAY EL, Johnny Lighting. Come to think of it, I ain't seen Lighting 'round much these days. Maybe he's hiding out while he fights off a bought of homosexuality.

[Kort smiles.]

Kort:
Heard it got JAY EL bad.

But yeah I don't count Cobra in that Hydra, hell he's just doin' what anyone with a half a'brain could'a done, surround himself with people willin' to take his falls. Kinda hopin' that maybe the Snake King wins, so I can pin him...again, but this time take his title.

[Kort nods his head and walks further down the hallway he is in.]

Kort:
As for Team Defiance ain't one damned person on that team that I wouldn't beat to a damned bloody pulp if I got the chance. Ain't none of them, cept Chico, fit to hold that Defiance banner. Hell certainly not Cancer Jiles. That shit's a travesty.

[Kort shakes his head, he can't really believe it.]

Kort:
Well I can't stay and chat, I got myself tickets to the show. Time to see if Team Defiance can embarrass themselves even more then having Bronson Box on the team. Also time to see if Adrien Cochrane can save Aye Dubya, my guess is probably not.

See y'all soon.

[Kort waves and approaches and usher and hands over his ticket.]


=-=-=



Skaaland:  
Right.  So here’s the deal on this match.  Joe Drago and Christian Light are representing the defunct interfed Coalition of Affiliated Leagues.  Heidi Christenson was going to be on their team, but now she’s not.  They’re going up against the Missouri Valley Wrestling Alliance’s all-ladies team.  

Kevin/Satan:
Mmmheh! Sometimes Satan wishes he could go up against an all-ladies team, but after eating Mr. Angus’s sugar he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to perform.

The “second” round one match was starting to draw some attention as the first real action of the night was underway!  With Joe Drago and Miss USA stepping in the ring, the bell rang for this match to start!

Drago and Miss USA lock up with Drago shoving down the former World Title contender.  Drago attempted to follow up with an elbow drop, but the patriotic diva rolled out of the way.  Miss USA ran against the ropes, hopping over the rising Drago.  She bounced off the other end, but…

THWACK!!!

…she got derailed by a spinning back fist from Drago.

Skaaland:  
Back in Defiance, we’d have the fans chanting “Drago’s gonna kill you”.

Kevin/Satan:
Here at Summer Games, the fans are chanting “Please make it stop”.  

Drago tagged in the former World Champion.  Christian Light gets a pretty big cheer from the crowd as he stepped into the ring.  Miss USA attempted a crossbody, but Light caught the Women’s Champion.  Light lifted her in the air for a Gorilla Press Slam but Miss USA agilely landed on her feet.  Miss USA bounced off the ropes one more time, but Light followed and nailed a thunderous spear that made the entire crowd gasp.

Angus:
Light with the cover!

…ONE…


…TWO…

Both Angels kicked Christian Light off of the downed Miss USA.

Skaaland:  
I’ll say this right off.  If the ladies are going to stand a chance in this match, they need to use teamwork, a lot.  Light’s so much bigger than they are that he probably could just lie on top of them and get a 3 count off it.

Kevin/Satan:
Satan doesn’t get it. Please explain.

Skaaland:
Just forget it, go find something shiny to play with.

Kevin/Satan:
SOLD!

Skaaland:
Good - Wait! Give me back my watch!

Light was back on his feet, and tagged in Joe Drago.  The World Tag Team Champion entered the ring, waiting for Miss USA, who is now stirring, to get back to her feet.  With his manager, Murray Monroe at ringside, shouting out orders for Drago to do, Drago started to measure up the opposition, who is holding on to the ropes to get her balance back.  Drago quickly locked in a sleeper hold as soon as she let go of the ropes.  With Drago dragging the sleeper hold to the center of the ring and Heidi threatening the Angel of Death to not run-in, it was going to be up to Miss USA to get out of the hold.  The referee lifted her arm once.

Drop.

The second lift.

Drop.

The third lift.

A SIGN OF LIFE!

Miss USA struck Drago in the lower abdomen with an elbow.  Murray Monroe hopped on the apron, complaining to the referee, but he was dropped with a kick to face by Miss USA.  Christian Light, knowing that Miss USA’s spine couldn’t be in too good shape from the spear and sleeper hold, leaped back into the ring and probably put the nail in the coffin for Miss USA when he immediately drilled her to the mat with a brainbuster.  Light covered Miss USA.

…ONE…

…TWO…

THREE!!

Miss USA was eliminated by Christian Light via brainbuster.

Skaaland:
She should’ve tagged out.  Lack of tag experience, maybe.

Angel Casey slid in the ring for the first action by a member of Team MVW who was not named Miss USA.  Casey attempted a dropkick on Light, but the former Summer Games champion caught her in mid-air.  Light turned her dropkick attempt into a sidewalk slam that made Angel Scott cringe on the apron.  Tag to Drago.

Angel Casey, showing her fighting spirit, charged at Joe Drago, but he was able to avoid the clothesline and grabbed her for a german suplex.  Casey tried to wiggle free as much as she could, but once the first german suplex hit, her spirit slowly faded.

Drago hit a second, followed by a third.  On the fourth, Drago kept his grasp and had Casey’s shoulders on the mat to secure a pin.

…ONE…

…TWO…


THR…NO!

Angel Scott quickly broke the pin up.  Drago whipped Casey against the ropes and tried his second sleeper hold of the match.  The arm lifts were done, but the extremely small Angel Casey had no chance.

Angel Casey was eliminated by Joe Drago via sleeper hold.

Skaaland:  
Alright, no offense to Angel Scott, but I’m not seeing any way she can come back from a 2-1 deficit against wrestlers the caliber of Light and Drago.

Angel Scott snuck into the ring and kicked Joe Drago where no man should be kicked.  The crowd gasped as the World Tag Team Champion fell to his knees.  Angel Scott ran against the ropes and hit rolling cutter on Drago.  Scott with the cover.

…ONE…

…TWO…

THR…NO!!

Joe Drago instinctively got the shoulder up.  Light started to express his wish to get tagged in.  Drago started to crawl towards him, but Angel Scott stomped on the left leg of Joe Drago.  Drago tried to kick back with his right leg, but Angel Scott dodged it.  Unfortunately, that dodge was the opening Drago needed to roll in his corner and tag in Christian Light.

Light was a man possessed as he first clotheslined the last remaining person without a Y chromosome.  She got back up and tried a clothesline of her own, but Light lifted his knee for a powerful kitchen sink.  She tried a low blow, but playing with Team Danger made Light aware of cheating moves and was able to avoid it as well.  Light decided that it was time to just end the match and lifted Scott in the air.

THUD!!

Christian Light beautifully executed his Danger Strike and got the final cover of the match.

…ONE…

…TWO…

THREE!!

Angel Scott was eliminated by Christian Light via Danger Strike.

Advancing to Finale: Joe Drago and Christian Light

Skaaland:  
And Team CAL heads to the finals.  Yeah, that’s what happened.

Kevin/Satan:
Satan knows, Mr. Angus, he just saw it. Say, do you have any more sugar?

Skaaland:
I’m not talking to you anymore. You’re not nearly as cool as I thought you were in the 80’s when I was carving “Slayer” into my forearm. You’re a bad Satan.

Kevin/Satan:
MmmmhehehhehhaHAhhaAAhaAh! “Bad Satan”! Sounds like it could make a good movie! Bahahaha! But seriously Satan needs moar sugar!

The former World Champion and the current World Tag Team Champion shook hands as they assisted Angel Scott to her feet.  Murray Monroe, still holding his nose from the Miss USA kick, started to show his enthusiasm with a fist pump as the camera cut to the backstage area.


=-=-=


Tap tap tap…

Adrien Cochrane:
Where the hell is he?!

RAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!

[The Dallas crowd give the fan favorite, Adrien Cochrane, some cheers as he appeared on the screen, tapping his fingers on the door frame of the lobby.]

Adrien Cochrane:
I think I need to tell the officials that Fujita is a no-show…DAMMIT!!

Booooo!!

[Adrien kicked air in frustration.  He started to walk back to his locker room with his head hanging low until he heard a voice.]

Jake Donovan:
Things not going so well?

[Cochrane chuckled…one of those chuckles when someone hit the nail on the head on your bad day.]

Adrien Cochrane:
Not one bit.  Horribly, in fact.  I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, Jake.  Adrien Cochrane.

[The former HRW Manhattan Island champion extended his hand for Donovan.]

Jake Donovan:
Jake Donovan.

[Jake extended his hand, accepting the handshake.]

Adrien Cochrane:
But yeah, things aren’t going to plan really.  One of my partner’s is being majorly uncooperative and the other one seems to be MIA.  I dunno what I’m going to do about Team Defiance if I’m going in the trenches by myself.

Jake Donovan:
That's got to suck, man. I was looking forward to someone stepping up and taking those assholes out. I gotta admit, I'm glad not to be on Team AW, Mandrake and Co. is going to send them back to Pennsylvania in zip lock baggies.

[A bit more genuine of a chuckle from Adrien.]

Adrien Cochrane:
Believe me, if I have to take down Team Defiance by myself, I will.  I would just prefer not to have to do it three on one.

RAAAHH!

Jake Donovan:
I wish you the best of luck doing it. Those guys are a cancer, and tonight, it looks like they are finally going to be silenced.

[The little light bulb over Cochrane’s head flicked on.]

Adrien Cochrane:
Well, here’s a thought…

[Jake stood still, waiting to see what he was thinking]
    
Adrien Cochrane:
You’re a capable, able bodied WWA competitor.  Maybe you can fill in for Kazuma Fujita…

RAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

Jake Donovan:
What?!...Who? Me?!  I haven't trained for this! Summer Games is like...well it's the diamond show of the whole bloody alliance!  It takes time to prepare for it!

Adrien Cochrane:
It also requires a full team.  I really need you to fight beside me, Jake.  With Long pretty much not even caring anymore, I’m pretty much going out there for a death sentence and giving those Defiance thugs the victory, not just for the match, but for the entire war they’ve started.  You and me are the last line of defense against Eric Dane’s usurpation.

[A long, drawn out sigh]

Jake Donovan:
I see your point. And while I don't think I'm ready for an event like this, I'll do it.

[Fist pump by Cochrane.]

Adrien Cochrane:
Alright!  Let’s go tell the officials that you’re coming in for Fujita.  You are a lifesaver, dude!

[The two walked off towards the offices backstage as the camera faded.]


=-=-=


Kevin/Satan:
Mmmhehehh.. It’s too bad we won’t be having fajitas, Tessa Martini still hasn’t delivered Satan’s pizza and he’s becoming quite hungry.

Angus:
I don’t see how. I’m of the opinion that you could benefit from the starvation diet. I also don’t see how Adrien Cochrane thinks this kid is going to help him or Ronnie Long in their bid against our boys. But who knows, maybe he’ll surprise us. Maybe he’ll murder Cancer Jiles. I hope he murders Cancer Jiles.

=-=-=


[Cannon walks down a long hallway in obvious focus before his big match. He abruptly stops as he looks on with an obvious shocked expression on his face.]

Cannon:
Herr Kellerman?

[Kellerman leans on a crate wearing a grey T-shirt over his wrestling attire. He sips from his aluminum water bottle and acknowledges Cannon.]

Kellerman:
Yes, Herr Cannon?

[Cannon rubs his eyes and points to Kellerman.]

Cannon:
I asked you first. Herrr...err...err Kellerman?

[Cannon continues to rub his eyes and looks flustered. Kellerman cocks his brow.]

Kellerman:
Yes, what is it, Herr Cannon?

[Cannon struggles to keep his eyes open, and it appears as if he is humorously making funny faces, but Cannon is obviously out of it.]

Cannon:
Sorry. I took four Benadryl's about an hour and a half ago. I think the 'lazy effect' is kicking my ass right now. Yeah, so what is up?

[Cannon smiles, as if he just now notices Kellerman standing in clear sight leaning against a crate with a water bottle in his hand.]

Kellerman:
Herr Cannon, you're under the influence before our big match? What's the matter with you? I thought you wanted to turn over a new leaf!

[Cannon shakes his head, as if he finally realizes his stupor like mannerisms.]

Cannon:
I know...I know. This hype has been kicking my ass lately. Sorry... Look, I'm prepared to kick the major hell out of Team Mandrake tonight. I just want you to know that you can expect no shortcuts with me. I hope you expect this much out of me. First round and Team Appalachian advances. Are we on the same page?

[Kellerman looks at Cannon with a slanted expression on his face and thinks to himself for a minute.]

Kellerman:
Do what you can to sober up soon, Herr Cannon. We're on soon. And yes, we're on the same page, assuming we both want to destroy Herr Mandrake.

[Cannon actually seems surprised by Kellerman's response and looks taken a back. He scratches his head and thinks about Kellerman's words.]

Cannon:
Of course, I want to destroy Team Mandrake. Why wouldn't I?

Kellerman:
I'm not sure, Herr Cannon. Perhaps it's because we have a history, and it wouldn't surprise me if you tried to stab me in the back. I'm trying to believe your new attitude, Herr Cannon, but I won't let my guard down just yet, especially while you're inebriated. Understand?

[Cannon nods.]

Cannon:
I understand where you are coming from but hear me out. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to come into Summer Games this year to win the WWA World Title. How would you not expect me to work with you fully to at least get to the finals? I want it and you want it.

[Cannon thinks about that for a second.]

Cannon:
Well, yeah, it would probably make perfect timing for me to attack you if we both make the finals since technically I wouldn't need you for support. However, things have changed in my life since our last encounter - which I'd like to remind you that you won on your own, and it was no fluke. Let me stand here right now and say that you are a tough competitor and I respect the hell out of you...

[Kellerman holds out his hand to cease Cannon's speech.]

Kellerman:
Okay, okay. It might cost me, but I'll trust you this time around. And if you should do anything to break that trust, Herr Cannon? Then I will follow you to the gates of Hell, seeking vengeance. Now let's go out there and give Appalachian Wrestling the last hurrah that it deserves. Let's make it to the finals and, Herr Can-... Chris... let's come out fighting.

[Cannon holds out his hand this time and puts a stop to that 'love story' ending that John Kellerman tried to portray.]

Cannon:
Wait a minute. Was I that bad?

Kellerman:
What do you mean?

Cannon:
You're getting all Terminator and shit on me. Depths of hell, Shakespearian type betrayals and all of that stuff. What's up with that?

Kellerman:
You said some pretty nasty stuff about my country, Chris, and I took that personally. I don't forgive easily when it comes to stuff like that. You burned the flag, for crying out loud. Just because we're on the same team doesn't mean that I consider you my pal just yet, and because of that, I'm watching you with eagle eyes. Does that make sense?

[Cannon shrugs.]

Cannon:
How long have you been in the business, John?

[Kellerman looks intrigued, wondering where this is going.]

Kellerman:
Only a few months, what does that have to do with-...

Cannon:
Keep those eagle eyes, John... You will need them.

[Cannon winks and turns to continue his way down the halls. John watches Cannon go, and a knowing smile crosses his lips once he's out of sight. He mutters to himself.]


=-=-=


[We cut backstage to Terrence Thompson's locker room, where Terrence Thompson is finishing his stretching, getting ready for the upcoming Team Mandrake vs. Team Appalachian showdown.]

[The door opens, and in walks his wife, Wendy, who is also dressed for the match and ready to go.   Terrence breaks into a broad grin, given that he hasn't seen his wife for a good week.]

Terrence Thompson
Wendy!  God, I've missed you.

[Terrence goes to embrace his wife, and give her a kiss, but while Wendy accepts the hug, she turns her face away as Terrence tries to kiss her.]

Wendy Briese-Thompson
No, Terrence, not until after the show.

[Surprised, Terrence pulls away, and looks at his wife.  She is carrying the same fire and intensity he saw in her a week ago, although he can definitely detect a bit of nervousness in her as well.  It's understandable, considering this is Wendy's first ever Summer Games]

Terrence Thompson
You okay?

[Wendy nods.]

Wendy Briese-Thompson
I am.  I just want to get out there, and get past the preliminaries.  

Terrence Thompson
Yeah, me too.  But we oughtn't keep Victor waiting.  We've got a tough fight ahead of us.

[Wendy nods.]

Wendy Briese-Thompson
I know.  Let's go.  Oh, and Terrence?

[Terrence pauses at his wife addressing him again.]

Terrence Thompson
Yes?

[A small smile from Wendy]

Wendy Briese-Thompson
Good luck.

[Terrence returns the smile]

Terrence Thompson
You too.  Now let's go.

[The two leave the locker room, and the scene fades.]


=-=-=


Angus:
D’aaaaaww what a moment between the Whirlybirdz. Well at least I’m more willing to believe the Briese-Thompsons are on the same page compared to the hashing out between Cannon and Kellerman, and just what exactly did Chris Cannon mean when he told John Kellerman he was gonna need to keep those eagle eyes? Even after all that, can these two men still really trust each other? Will Appilachian Wrestling get the final tribute in Summer Games that it deserves? Do I actually care what happens in this match so long as Victor Mandrake doesn’t make it to the finals? Not really, but this is a paying gig and I know how to do my job.


=-=-=



Cannon cheerfully entered the ring, warming himself up by bouncing off of the ropes several times, and stretching in the corner while Team Manbird conferred in the corner. Cannon's exuberance dropped several notches when the nearly double the size of him Victor Mandrake stepped in to the ring, a look of determination shot across his face

Angus:
Bad things are about to happen to Chris Cannon.

Kevin/Satan:
Who’s this guy?

Ding,Ding,Ding!

Cannon was off like a shot! charging at Mandrake at full speed! He ducked under Mandrakes initial attempt at a clothesline, rebounding and once again befuddling the much larger man by baseball sliding between his legs!

Angus:
Yer just gonna piss him off, kid.

Kevin/Satan:
This guy’s pretty big. How much does he weigh?

Angus:
Please stop now. I know what you’re trying to do but nobody else is gonna get it.

Mandrake, trying desperately to get his bearings was met with a towering dropkick that staggered him! Cannon charged in with a jumping forearm shot, before sprinting off of the ropes at full speed, the crowd eating up the underdog taking over! Ducking under another Mandrake swat, Cannon hand-springed in to the ropes.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The Crowd instantly deflated as Mandrake squished Chris Cannon with The Burning Fields, The cover was elementary as he almost dared Team AW to break it up.

Chris Cannon has been eliminated!

Angus:
I told you. What’d I tell you?

As Mandrake backed up to his corner, he tagged in Terence Thompson, who looked none to happy with Mandrake or the tag, but came in regardless. Kellerman seemed more intent on Zortalk entering the match, and Zortalk seemed to have the referee's ear when the referee managed to convince Kellerman to get in the ring, Zortalk waved to the crowd, inciting a smattering of boo's and "you sucks" being audible.

Kellerman hopped over the top rope, and preceded to tag Zortalk in. Zortalk argued, but the ref called the tag, and laughter was heard throughout. Zortalk moved in to collar and elbow Thompson, but faked him out and kicked him square in the ass! Thompson looking not so amused moved in, warily this time, Zortalk once again avoided the collar and elbow, booting him in the ass again! Thompson now seeing only red wildly charged at Zortalk who took cover in the ring ropes! the referee had no choice but to back Thompson off, Zortalk chortling the entire time!

Angus:
I can see it’s going to be a long fucking night...

Kevin/Satan:
Zortalk looks like he’s got a plan here.

Angus:
The hell you figure?

Kevin/Satan:
If Zortalk can make Terrance Thompson angry enough, he might end up making a mistake or getting himself disqualified and that’d even the odds for Appilachian. Eerrrrmmm... Mmmmhehehhh...

Thompson waited in the middle of the ring, and much to everyone's displeasure, Zortalk tagged in Kellerman, in the face. Kellerman hopped in the ring again, but this time Zortalk dropped to the floor, hand's up and a big grin on his face. Thompson not particularly caring who was in the ring took the opportunity to grab Kellerman from behind and dump him with a belly to back take down, rotating over to a headlock. holding the move for several seconds, Kellerman managed to work them back to a standing base, He threw Thompson in to the ropes, and tried to duck under the charging man, but instead ate Thompson's shoulder in the face. Thompson paused as Kellerman slumped to the mat, the man completely dead weight. Thompson tried to do something with the man, but instead rolled him over!

One!

Two!

Three!

Jon Kellerman has been eliminated

Angus:
Hrmph. Maybe not. Well, AW’s last hope comes down to Zortalk... So... Yeah.

Thompson waited patiently as Kellerman was rolled out of the ring, and Zortalk stood on the apron. The referee moved that Zortalk get in the ring, and Zortalk nodded, but not before asking the referee for the time. The referee was mildly wise to Zortalk's scheme and instead administered a five count, at four hand moving towards five, Zortalk ambled in to the ring. Wanting nothing to do with the man whom he had booted in the ass, Zortalk hulked up, saying he wanted Wendy Briese.

Angus:
This is solid strategy right here.

Thompson was having none of this.

He tried cornering Zortalk, cutting off his escape routes, but Zortalk defied him, by simply sliding out of the ring, the crowd, not in the mood for Zortalk's stalling to begin with was now absolutely furious as the referee began administering a ten count. Zortalk motioned for him to get Thompson back, and out of the ring. The referee was at 8 when he rolled in and back out of the ring, letting the referee know that he was not legally bound to face a man who had just gained a pinfall! the booing was thunderous, citing a long forgotten rule, The referee was forced to admit Zortalk's point, Thompson though was not going to be out clevered by Zortalk chose instead to tag in Victor Mandrake, infuriating his wife.

Mandrake possibly not wanting to have to play live marriage counselor tagged in Wendy Briese. at which point Zortalk rolled right back in to the ring and proceeded to pull a party favor out of his trunks and blow it at Briese, who responded by slapping him in the face, She threw some hard leg kicks, forcing Zortalk back in to the ropes, trying to whip the larger man, Zortalk locked a side headlock on! and quickly turned to the ropes. raking her eyes over the top rope! The ref hopped in immediately as he took her on a tour towards the neutral corner

SOMEONE KILL HIM!
SOMEONE KILL HIM!

At the four count, Zortalk pleasantly reminded him that he had until five, and released the hold! The referee admonished him, pointing at himself, and Zortalk re-locked in the side headlock, using his weight advantage to force her down to the mat. with the hold cinched in, and the crowd booing, Zortalk let them know he wasn't going anywhere, and once again utilized his weight advantage to roll her over.

Angus:
I can’t believe this is actually working.Kevin/Satan:
Satan’s picking up what Zortalk’s putting down.

The ref dropped down for the pin, and Zortalk rolled out of it, the ref hoped up, and Zortalk rolled back over for the pin, and once again as soon as the ref dropped down, he rolled out of the pin. Zortalk laughed at the referee as he once again rolled over for the pin, again the ref dropped down and again there was no actual pinfall attempt. Briese however, ended the charade by slipping out of the headlock and delivering a thunderous kick to Zortalk's back! Zortalk's face twisted in pain as she delivered another thunderous kick, the crowds approval only second to her annoyance!

Angus:
HEY! Is that any way to treat somebody that’s trying to have a good time?

Kevin/Satan:
No! But this is!

Angus:
Get your hands off of me!

She pulled Zortalk to his feet, and promptly snap mared him over, and delivered a third kick! The crowd exploded as Zortalk writhed in pain, Briese again pulled Zortalk to his feet, and Zortalk thumbed the eye! Wendy grabbed at her face, and Zortalk once again cinched in a side headlock, the crowd booed as the referee was completely unaware of what had happened.

Zortalk worked back over to his corner, before settling in on the mat. Zortalk seemed to be almost lounging, as he did so, he did against the corner, giving the referee an opportunity to administer the five count, once again breaking the move at four. Zortalk picked Wendy up by the hair, something she was not all that pleased with, and promptly slammed her head first in to the to the top turnbuckle. He repeated this several more times until the referee broke it up. Zortalk would then snap mare Briese over and in mockery, kicked her in the back!

Angus:
How’s that for payback, BIATCH!

Zortalk rolled Briese over, looking for the pinfall, and got a one count for his trouble. Zortalk looked stunned, and tried for the cover again, again garnering a one count. Zortalk pulled Wendy to her feet, and whipped her towards the ropes. however she caught the ropes and promptly tagged Victor Mandrake.

Zortalk's eyes went wide! As Mandrake surged in to the ring, Wendy and Terrence argued! Thompson tagged himself in! Mandrake turned around, and ALL THREE members of Team ManBird were arguing. Thompson however was the legal man, and this had not been forgotten by Zortalk who delivered a running drop kick to his ass, sending him in to his two partners! Mandrake and Briese tumbled out of the ring!

Angus:
Ha! Zortalk is going to make a go of it, he’s got those three goofs at eachother’s throats!

Kevin/Satan:
Mmmhehehheh... This is a favorite strategy of Satan’s. Zortalk’s not too shabby at this type of thing... Perhaps Satan could use a man like Zortalk... In HELL! MmhehhhehahahAHahAHAha!

The referee moved to check on them! Zortalk once again went to his tights for another party favor!

Thompson was furious!

Zortalk blew the party favor and chalk powder blinded Thompson! Northern lights Suplex! Zortalk scrambled to the top rope! He screamed something incoherent!

Angus:
HERE WE GO!

SPACE PHAROAH SENTON!!!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The referee counted to three, and the crowd continued booing as Zortalk hopped to his feet!

Terrence Thompson has been eliminated

Angus:
HA! It gets better and better.

Briese was the first one to the apron, so Zortalk pulled her in to the ring, and planted her with a German suplex, bridging for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

Briese got a shoulder up, Zortalk was infuriated with the referee, showing him how to count to three! However, this was just the advantage Briese needed, as she arm dragged Zortalk over! Zortalk scrambled to his feet, and was met with another deep arm drag, and another the crowd exploded as she went for the Irish Death! Zortalk picked her up though! She reversed the slam in to a hurricanrana!

ONE!

TWO!

Angus:
Get it together man! Slow it back down!

The crowd booed as Zortalk Kicked out! She pulled him to his feet and moved over to her corner and tagged in Mandrake, Mandrake delivered a hard boot to the midsection of Zortalk, almost doubling him over. Mandrake hoisted Zortalk up and dropped him with a side slam that shook the ring. Mandrake keeping the pace slow would then whip Zortalk in to the corner, and proceed to lay in heavy, heavy forearms to the back, coming out of the corner, he would plant Zortalk with another side slam, visibly bouncing him off of the mat with force.

Mandrake, well in control, pulled Zortalk again to his feet, this time by the hair, much to the protesting of Zortalk. Zortalk however would try to turn the tide, simply by stomping on Mandrake's feet, and avoiding his lunging blows, however, Mandrake was the fresher man and finally got a hold of Zortalk.

GASP!

Angus:
YEAH!

Zortalk snuck in the small package! TWO COUNT! The crowd exploded as Mandrake kicked out. Zortalk threw some forearms at Mandrake and charged off of the ropes, Only to eat a Chokeslam. Another cover only garnered a two count. Mandrake appeared frustrated as he sent Zortalk in to the ropes and put him back down with a big boot. Mandrake again chokeslammed Zortalk, leaving him laying in a heap on the ground, he rolled over and hooked the leg.

Angus:
Ah, shit.

ONE!

TWO!

Once again Zortalk kicked out, the crowd still booing as Zortalk refused to be eliminated. Zortalk would roll over to the ropes and feebly pull himself up as Mandrake looked on in disgust. As he approached, Zortalk would poke him in the eyes, and utilizing a burst of adrenaline, would hop to the top rope! FLYING CROSS BODY!

NO!

Mandrake caught him! He flipped him up on to his shoulders! Burning FIELDS!

Mandrake Covered!

ONE


TWO!

FOOT ON THE ROPES!

Angus:
WHOA! ZORTALK IS STILL ALIVE!

Mandrake pulled Zortalk to his feet again, and hoisted him back up on to his shoulders, moving towards the center of the ring! Zortalk in desperation with a crucifix bomb! Mandrake rolled out of the ring, Briese came in! Zortalk took to his feet, fists up! She however had other ideas as he was peppered with leg kicks, and dropped to his knees, a roundhouse kick to the head sent him flopping to the mat! She locked in the Banshee! Zortalk started crawling to the ropes! He Almost had them!

Angus:
COME ON! COME ON!

But she rolled on to her side, elevating Zortalk! Zortalk strained and screamed incoherently!

Angus:
NO!

The crowd exploded as Zortalk tapped out!

Angus:
Ah, for fuck’s sake...

Zortalk has been Eliminated![/b]

Advancing to the Finals: Wendy Briese and Victor Mandrake[/b]


=-=-=


Angus:
Well I hope that’s what everyone from A-Dub hoped to see out of their performance in Summer Games. Idiots couldn’t even keep Mandrake out of the big one. Zortalk, you can eat a bag of Hell.

Kevin/Satan:
It’s delicious! BwahAhahAHahA!


=-=-=


[We cut backstage to a lonely corner of the arena. The fallout of Team Mandrake and Team Appalachian Wrestling can still be heard out in the arena. The roar of the crowd is quieter here. As we pan through the shadows we find Defiance Wrestling superstar the "Bombastic" Bronson Box sitting quietly in a folding chair, his hands clasped tight around a worn wooden rosary, his eyes closed.]

[We listen in.]

Box:
Heavenly father. I come to you this night to ask for strength...

[The Dead Rabbit nods slightly.]

Box:
Strength to continue your noble works and herd these lost sheep back into your flock. I'm surrounded on all sides Lord by sinners and layabouts. People who pollute their bodies and minds and cast aside your word as though it were fanatical gibberish, as though I'm some sort of mad man.

[Bronson's breathing gets heavier.]

[This is an angry prayer.]

Box:
But I'm not mad, am I father? I'm your right hard. Your instrument. Your shepherds staff ready and willing to do what it takes to bring home those who have strayed. I've done well, haven't I? I've trained and worked and molded myself into what I can best hope mirrors and honors your image. Godly, honest, natural, strong, thinking.

If you see fit to allow me to achieve ultimate victory in tonight's contest lord I will use my position, as I always have, to spread your word and do your good works. Please lord give me the strength to show these people your influence, your power. So many of these men and women are prideful arrogant souls empty and devoid of even the slightest glint of your divine breath.

Sinners like Victor Mandrake and Cobra. Fools like Zortalk and Adrien Cochrane. Brazen females like Wendy Briese and Heidi Christenson. The whole lot of them spitting in your face Lord. Spit in your face and flaunt their many flaws and sins as though they were badges of honor.

Lord, I...

[A voice from behind Bronson startles him out of his quite ranting prayer.]

Voice:
Wouldn't push ups or a few Hindu squats be more productive this close to your match you weird fuck?

[Bronson's eyes flicker open.]

Box:
Evan. Fair of tongue as always.

[The Butcher himself. Evan Hurley.]

[Bronson gets up, his back still to his estranged tag team partner. Box wraps the rosary around his wrist as Evan starts talking.]

Hurley:
Bronson, listen. I just wanted to hash this out. We have a good thing going and I don't want my usual bullshit to fuck it up like its fucked up every other partnership I've ever had. I'm willing to really try and get my head on straight this time. Everything you've said and done while a little harsh makes...

[Turning and facing his partner Bronson looks Evan up and down before settling on the traditional nose to nose pro wrestling stance.]

Box:
For once in your bloody life shut your foul tongue and listen.

[A shocked expression is all Evan can muster.]

Box:
This isn't the time or place to "hash out" anything. I'm preparing for the most important bloody match of my career and you want to talk about our tag team? Your problems? You figure interrupting my prayers with your foul nonsense is the right choice of action?

[Box scoffs.]

Box:
We'll... talk... later boyo. In the mean time? I want you to watch as I march out to that ring and match wits with that bloody Chinaman, that little twit you've failed time and time again to make short work of and the current reining Heavyweight champion of the bloody World. You sit back here like the nonstarter you are, Evan. Smoke a doobbie and drink yourself stupid. Dull the pain of your pitiful pampered little life as I go out and grab life by the bollocks and give it a good yank.

[Box marches off down the corridor, not before of course giving Evan the least friendly pat on the back and wink combination we've ever seen.]

[Hurley simply lets out a deep sigh as he watches the Scottish Strongman disappear down the hallway.]

[We cut back to ringside.]


=-=-=



The final preliminary match was set to get underway, and the crowd was hot with excitement, for now the Defiance would finally get a chance at Cito Conarri's handpicked defenders of the WWA.  Even more intriguing was the last-minute replacement of Kazuma Fujita with rookie sensation Jake Donovan.

Angus:
Well, it’s go time. Defiance vs Conarri. This is where we begin to find out the future of the World Wrestling Alliance!

The crowd cheered wildly for the Defiance team, although most of the cheers were for Aaron Vasquez, as normally even the Defiance crowd couldn't find much to love about Cancer Jiles and Bronson Box.  The reception of Team Conarri was quite mixed, as even the Dallas fans had to respect the three men who had been decided to uphold the honor of the WWA.

The bell rang, and Team Conarri quickly conferred with each other, electing Adrien Cochrane to start for them, and Long and Donovan silently stepped through the ropes.  No such conferring on Team Defiance's part, as Vasquez and Jiles were halfway through the ropes before the first *ding* even hit, leaving one very bewildered Bronson Box alone in the ring.  Box looked over at his partners, giving each of them the evil eye, but turned back to face a very fired up Cochrane.

Angus:
Squash him! Like a fuckin’ bug!

Cochrane and Box locked up, the larger Box easily overpowering Adrien and backing him into a neutral turnbuckle.  He fired off a couple of closed fists to AC's midsection, before the referee began a five-count, and Box backed away, smirking at how easily he gained the upper hand.  Shoving the referee aside, he moved back in on Adrien, flipping him to the mat with a fireman's arry, and quickly applying an arm wrench.  Adrien, down on the mat and already taking some damage, tried firing elbows behind him with his free hand, but couldn't connect cleanly enough to get Box to break the hold.  Feeling he had milked the hold enough, Box let go, and "helped" Adrien to his feet, bringing him back down with a belly-to-back suplex.

Angus:
Jesus, this isn’t going to last long at all.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                
Box dragged Adrien to his feet, and the Bombastic one applied another hammerlock, and used it to leverage Cochrane over to the Defiance corner, where he was surprised to find no outstretched hand waiting from either AV or Jiles.  Frustrated, Box smacked Jiles on the arm, forming a legal tag, and CCJ looked highly offended.  Nevertheless, he reluctantly climbed into the ring, bringing a double axehandle down on Adrien as Box released him.  Laughing at his former friend, Jiles pulled Cochrane up by his hair, and raked his eyes.  AC stumbled back, trying desperately to blink away the pain, but Jiles was right on top of him, taking him down with a strong clothesline.

Angus:
Jiles... Cochrane... Don’t know who... I hate more... Brain... overload...

Kevin/Satan:
Satan prefers the one dressed like Booster Gold.

Angus:
You would.

Jiles pulled Adrien back to his feet, and bounced him into the ropes, but Cochrane came flying back with a jumping heel kick that sent Cancer crashing to the mat!  Adrien, who suddenly seemed to realize that Cancer was his opponent, was now completely fired up, beckoning for CCJ to get up.  Jiles did, and AC came in and rocked him with a series of stiff chops, then an elbow to the face.  Jiles stumbled back, and Cochrane flung him to the ropes, sending him airborne with a back body drop.  Adrien again demanded that Jiles get to his feet, but CCJ suddenly found himself wanting no part of being the legal man, and took this opportunity to dive at Vasquez, and tag himself out.

Angus:
OH SHIT SON! IT’S ABOUT TO GET REAL!

AV slowly stepped into the ring, his eyes never leaving Cochrane.  The two began to circle around each other.  Vasquez made to lock up, but Cochrane dodged, and sent him crashing face first to the mat with a drop toe hold, which he followed up by going to the ropes and bouncing off with a baseball slide dropkick to the midsection.  Vasquez held his midsection in pain, and Adrien grabbed his arm, dragging him over to the Conarri corner.  His hand smacked Donovan's and Jake was off like a cannon, vaulting over the top rope and landing a legdrop right across AV's throat!

Donovan hauled AV to his feet and fired off a couple of chops, but Vasquez began returning some of his own, the crowd "whoo" ing with each blow as the men exchanged.  The larger Chico began to overpower Jake, however, and grabbed Donovan, sending him to the ropes, but Jake leapt to the top rope, and springboarded back at Vasquez, nailing a 720 DDT!  Donovan was up immediately, going to the turnbuckle, and flying off with a corkscrew senton, connecting cleanly!  Donovan quickly covered for the first pinfall of the match..

Angus:
Aw HELLZ NAW!


One...


Two...


Kickout!

Vasquez was slowly getting to his feet, but Donovan fired off with a couple of elbows to the head to keep him dazed, then tagged in Ronnie Long.  Long gave Vasquez a couple chops to the chest, and sent him into the ropes, looking for a powerslam on the rebound...

HADOOOOOOOOKEN!

The roaring elbow connected out of nowhere, and Long stood upright for just a second, dazed, before collapsing to the mat.  Vasquez quickly covered...

Angus:
Goodnight, sweet prince.


One...


Two...


Three!

ELIMINATED: Ronnie Long

Angus:
That right there just happened. New Champ. Aaron Vasquez. Write that down.

Kevin/Satan:
How do you spell “Vasquez”?

Angus:
V... A... You don’t even have a pen!

Kevin/Satan:
Mmmhehhehehahahaheheh... Satan intended to carve it into your flesh.

So quickly had it happened, the only one who seemed to react at all was Aaron Vasquez, who triumphantly got to his feet.  The crowd, for the most part had been stunned into silence, until the realization hit, and soon the entire arena was in an uproar!  The Defiance Champion had just eliminated the WWA World Champion!  As an obviously stunned and embarrassed Long rolled from the ring, the tension in the arena rose considerably.  The champion was out, which meant that whatever else happened for the rest of the night, there WOULD be a new champion!

Angus:
Okay, I’m getting word on my super-secret government-issued James Bond earpiece that while Vasquez did just pin the Champion, and the belt is on the line, and it would be cool to watch him have to defend it the rest of the night, Chico isn’t recognized as the champion. I call bullshit.

For their part, Adrien and Donovan were absolutely stunned.  Sixty seconds ago, they were carrying all the momentum in the world, but now that was gone, and furthermore, they were down a man!  The two men exchanged looks, before Adrien slowly stepped into the ring, going to face Vasquez once more.  Vasquez, backed away, sizing up AC, but felt a sharp sting on his shoulder.  He turned around to find Bronson Box climbing into the ring, having made the blind tag.  The two men again stared at each other, but before any jawing could begin, the ref screamed at Vasquez to exit the ring, and so he did.

Angus:
Ah, fuck. NO INNER-TURMOIL! Save it for the Finale!

It was back to where it started, then, with Bronson Box and Adrien Cochrane facing each other down.  The two began circling again, and again Box gained the upper hand, applying a side headlock on Adrien.  Adrien countered by slamming Box to the mat with a nice back drop, and following up with a half-nelson.  Box powered out of the move by flipping Adrien over him in a modified snapmare, and applying an armbar, pulling hard in an attempt to dislocate Adrien's arm.  Adrien powered out before Box could firmly lock it in, however, and the two men returned to their feet, the crowd cheering at the technical display.

Angus:
Aw, not a standoff pop! FUCKSTOMP HIM!

Box wasn't caring about any cheers, however and he charged forward, surprising Cochrane with a double leg takedown and hopping on top of him, raining down closed fists to the head, while the crowd booed.  The referee ran in, and pulled Bronson away, the Scotsman reluctantly getting to his feet, while Adrien clutched his head in pain.  Box moved to his corner to tag Jiles, but CCJ wasn't even offering his hand.  Annoyed, Bronson turned to Vasquez, and smacked his hand, and climbed out of the ring.  

Vasquez walked up to Adrien, and layered the young man with stomps, while the pro-Defiance members of the crowd began to chant "Awful Waffle!".  Chico hauled Adrien up, and smashed his forehead into Adrien's face, Cochrane reeling back from the headbutt.  Vasquez caught him and hit a body slam, following up with a diving headbutt, connecting solidly!  Vasquez went for the cover...

Angus:
Goodbye Adrien!


One...


Two...

Angus:
FUCK!


Kickout...

Cochrane rolled the shoulder up, and kept himself alive.  AV slowly hauled Cochrane to his feet, but Cochrane rammed his head forward, butting Vasquez in the gut, doubling him over.  Adrien pulled away, and connected with a nice dropkick to the kisser, Vasquez stumbling back and falling into his own corner!  Adrien dared not move in, however, and Vasquez climbed to his feet, practically giving Cancer Jiles a chop in tagging him in.  Again, Cancer looked less than pleased, and he climbed into the ring, took one look at a grinning Adrien Cochrane beckoning him on, and tagged Box in.

Angus:
Oh for the love of-

Both AV and Box seemed pretty annoyed with Cancer Jiles at the moment, and both men gave him a death glare as he smugly rolled out of the ring.  Box shrugged, and turned back to Cochrane, who stood waiting in the middle of the ring.  The two men locked up again, but Adrien gained the upper hand this time after kneeing Box in the stomach.  He hooked Box up, and drove him down with a jumping DDT.  He followed this up by going for a dragon sleeper, but Box elbowed him away.

Angus:
I’ll say this for Jiles, keeping himself out of the match drastically increases his chances of making the finale. I’m pretty sure even Adrien would ragehump him into submission for his sheer face-punchability!

Kevin/Satan:
Ah, it’s been quite some time since Satan saw a good ragehumping. Good ol’ Caligula. So long, halcion days...

Both men got to their feet, and locked up, with Box again overpowering Adrien, and throwing him into the corner.  Adrien ran up the turnbuckles, however, and leapt off blindly, flipping over, connecting solidly with the ACEINATOR and driving Box's head into the mat!  Cochrane covered...


One...


Two...


Kickout!

Angus:
Ha! Adrien’s cool moves are WEAK!

Box kept himself alive, but it was close.  Adrien rolled to his feet, and tagged in Donovan, who came into the ring, connecting solidly with a rolling wheel kick to the head on Box.  Box staggered around, and Jake came up behind, driving him down with a Dragon Suplex, bridging for the pin!


One...


Two...


Kickout!

Angus:
YEAH!

Box managed to roll the shoulder up just in time.  Donovan hauled Box to his feet, but Box landed some stiff shots to the abdomen, forcing Jake away.  Box then fired an elbow off into Jake's face, and a couple rights and lefts, and Donovan was staggering on his feet.  Box, put up his fists, and began dancing around back and forth as if he was in a nineteenth century boxing match, while the crowd booed the taunting.  Box then charged forward with a clothesline, leveling Donovan!

Angus:
VINTAGE BRONSON!

[HEY! That’s gimmick infringement!]

Bronson wasn't done yet, however, and he lifted Jake to his feet, kneeing him a couple times in the stomach to keep him dazed.  Bronson hooked Jake up, and let loose a monster vertical suplex, suspending Donovan for almost twenty seconds in the air, before driving Jake's head into the mat. Bronson, made the cover...

Angus:
Come on, COME ON!


One...


Two...


Kickout!

Angus:
FUCK!

Donovan rolled the shoulder up, and kept himself alive.  Box fired a couple of shots to Donovan's head, and hauled him to his feet.  He leaped at Jake, wrapping his legs around in a closed guard, and then drove back into the mat, the crowd groaning as Donovan was trapped in the Flying Strongman!

Angus:
KILL HIM! CHOKE HIM! FUCK HIIIIIIIIIIM!

The guillotine choke was having it's effect, as Donovan's struggles were already starting to weaken.  Realizing his partner was in trouble, Cochrane was into the ring quickly, kicking Box in the side until he let go.  Box did, and the ref ordered Cochrane out of the ring.  However, as he turned to go, Jiles flew into the ring, driving Cochrane face first into the mat with a bulldog!

Angus:
Well look who remembered there was a match going on!

Jiles began pummeling on Cochrane, as the ref tried to seperate the two, to no avail.  Cochrane began fighting back, the crowd cheering as the two men brawled in the ring, while Donovan and Box both lay on the mat, catching their breath.  Jiles surprised Cochrane with a thumb to the eye, gaining an advantage.  Jiles battered Adrien with rights and lefts, then whipped Cochrane to the ropes, but Adrien reversed it, sending Jiles smashing into Vasquez, who flew off the apron to the floor!

Angus:
Ah, fuck, here we go...

Jiles looked stunned at the reversal, although not entirely upset about it.  He turned around, and found Jake and Adrien on their feet, and both men fired off a double dropkick, sending Jiles over the top rope and to the floor as well!  Jake and Adrien turned back to Box, who had gotten to his knee, and the two rivals hooked the Dead Rabbit up, taking him down with a double suplex.

Meanwhile, on the outside, Vasquez and Jiles had both gotten to their feet, and neither was happy.  Both men continued to argue, it going so far as Vasquez getting into Jiles face, and CCJ shoving him away.  Back in the ring, both Donovan and Cochrane had stopped to watch, and Cochrane, getting an evil smirk on his face, bounced off the opposite rope, running full tilt, and vaulted himself over the top rope, landing on both AV and CCJ with a big splash!

Angus:
FOR THE LOVE OF SOMETHING! GET IT THE FUCK TOGETHER GUYS!

Donovan actually laughed at the move, and went to the opposite ropes himself, obviously trying to better his partner.

BAM!

Unfortunately, he wasn't paying attention to Box, who had gotten to his feet and speared Donovan as he ran to make the leap!  Donovan crashed in a heap, and Bronson, grinning evilly, dragged him up, kicking him in the gut to double him over, and going for the Bombasto Bomb.

Angus:
Powebomb is stupid girly facepaint off!

As he was lifted up, Donovan came to life, and began firing punches at Box's head, forcing Bronson to let go.  Donovan fell on his feet, ducked a hard hook from Box, and hooked his arm around Bronson's neck, while at the same time using his other arm to hook the leg.  LIGHTNING SPIRAL!  Donovan jacknifed Box for the pin.

Angus:
NO!!! GET UP!


One...

Angus:
SOMEBODY HELP HIM!

Two...

Angus:
SRSLY GUISE HALP HEEM!

Three!

Angus:
Ah...

ELIMINATED: BRONSON BOX

Angus:
Fuck.

And just like that, the Bombastic One's dreams of winning Summer Games were over.  Outside the ring, both Jiles and Vasquez were pummeling on poor Adrien when they realized that their team mate had been eliminated.  AV broke away, and rolled into the ring, but was immediately set upon by Donovan, who preceded to pummel the new legal man with a barrage of stomps.  Donovan grabbed Vasquez and hit a swinging neckbreaker, then rolled out to the apron, measuring AV as he got up.  

As Vasquez got to his feet, Donovan leapt, springboarding himself in a crossbody block, but as he came down, Vasquez managed to catch him!  Vasquez then drove Donovan into the mat with a running powerslam, going for the cover.

Angus:
YES! YES!


One...


Two...


Kickout!

Angus:
Fuck.

Donovan kicked out, and kept himself alive for the time being.  Vasquez continued to press his advantage pummeling away on Jake with closed fists to the head.  After several blows, he pulled Donovan up, and slammed him down with a Russian Leg Sweep.  Vasquez reached down to grab Donovan's leg for some submission move, but Jake kicked him away.  Jake quickly got to his feet, and charged at Vasquez with a clothesline, but AV ducked, and responded with a double-fisted sledgehammer, which Jake threw himself back to avoid.  Finding himself near his corner, Jake tagged in Cochrane.

Adrien quickly vaulted to the top rope, connecting with a missile dropkick that AV couldn't quite get out of the way of.  Cochrane then picked Vasquez up, and threw him into the turnbuckle, running in and flinging across the ring with a nice monkey toss.  Adrien lined Vasquez up as he struggled to his feet, and ran in with a shining Wizard, but Vasquez dodged, and Adrien whiffed.  Adrien turned around, and Vasquez drove his elbow into Cochrane's stomach, hooked him up, and nailed a nice Fisherman's DDT.

Angus:
Jesus! That couldn’t have been pleasant!

Kevin/Satan:
Actually, Satan is quite pleased with it.

Angus:
Well there is that whole deal with Cochrane being destroyed so I guess that’s nice.

Looking over his shoulder, Vasquez saw Cancer finally wanting to tag in, and AV obliged him.  Like Cochrane did, Jiles vaulted to the top rope, and flew off, connecting squarely with a Frog Splash on Adrien!  CCJ held for the cover..


One..


Two...


Kickout!

Angus:
Shit, I was hoping they’d somehow cancel eachother out.

Jiles then retreated back to his corner, tagging in Vasquez again, who looked just downright pissed off that Jiles went for one single move, then left the match.  Jiles stepped out onto the apron, the two men arguing with each other, giving Cochrane valuable time to recover.  Vasquez finally entered the ring, going after Adrien, but Adrien evaded his grasp, and danced away.  Irritated, AV went after him, throwing a nice hook, and connecting with Adrien's jaw.  Cochrane fell hard to the mat, nearly rolling out of the ring, but Vasquez grabbed his legs to keep him in.  Seeing an opportunity, Vasquez leaned backwards, catapulting Adrien face-first into the Defiance turnbuckle.  Vasquez charged in with an elbow to the back of the head, but Cochrane rolled away, and now AV was the one to kiss the turnbuckle pad.

Angus:
NO! LESS COUNTERING! MORE LOSING!

Vasquez staggered away, holding his face, and Adrien wasted no time going for the kick to the gut, then he managed to get Vasquez up on his shoulders, driving him into the mat with THE DREAM BREAKER!  Adrien went for the cover, but the ref didn't even move to count.

Angus:
Jesus, how many finishers does this kid have?

For he had seen Cancer Jiles make a blind tag to Vasquez, making himself the legal man, and now Jiles was in the ring, with Cochrane only now realizing the ref wasn't counting.

Angus:
Finally Jiles makes himself useful! KIIIIIIIIIIICK HIIIIIIIIIIIIM!!!

And that's pretty much when Cancer Jiles’ foot shoved his testicles up into his throat.

Of course, the ref didn't see THAT, but Adrien was down on the ground, holding his groin in the sheerest of agony from the running soccer kick he had just taken.  Jiles stood over him, smirking, and even the pro-Defiance crowd had some reservations over what had just happened.  Jiles hauled the pain wracked Cochrane to his feet, took one step back, and gave him a bad case of TERMINAL CANCER.  Donovan ran in to make the save while Jiles covered, but Vasquez had recovered enough to be able to head him off at the pass.


One...

Angus:
DO IT! DO IT!

Two...

Angus:
YES!

Three!

Angus:
HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHA! FUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!

ELIMINATED: ADRIEN COCHRANE

Team Conarri was down to their last member, and both Vasquez and Jiles were double teaming blows on Donovan with utmost ferocity.  Finally, the referee managed to restore order and get Vasquez out of the ring.  Jiles stood smirking over Donovan, lazily kicking him in the head, as Donovan tried desperately to recover.  

Angus:
Don’t let up you idiot! MURDER HIM!

Jiles hauled Donovan up, and nailed a Manhattan drop, which meant pretty much ended any hope of any member of Team Conarri ever reproducing.  Jiles, again smirking like he had already won the whole tournament, sauntered over to the nearest turnbuckle, and began to climb.

Angus:
Don’t waste time!

Meanwhile, Jake Donovan kipped up.

Angus:
Ah, hell.

In a flash, Donovan was on Jiles, swinging blow after blow into his head.  Jiles lost his balance and slipped, racking himself on the turnbuckle, finally getting a taste of his own medicine.  Donovan followed up with a couple elbows, then climbed up the turnbuckle himself, hooking up Jiles, and DESTROYING him with a beautiful Avalanche Northern Lights Suplex!  Donovan was immediately back to his feet, his second wind in full force, as he climbed the turnbuckle again, this time flying off with a 450, connecting squarely!  He went for the cover..


One...

Angus:
COME ON! COME ON!

Two...


Broken Up!

Angus:
YES!

Vasquez broke it up with a stomp, then immediately left the ring.  Donovan, now realizing just how bad his disadvantage was in this two-on-one situation, ran to the corner, throwing an elbow at Vasquez to dump him off the apron.  He then turned back to Jiles, and ran in with a baseball slide dropkick to the back of his knee, and Cancer collapsed in a heap.

Donovan pulled him up, but Cancer quickly put a thumb to the eye, causing Jake to stagger away.  Jiles took this opportunity to get the hell out of there, going to his corner, and tagging Vasquez back in.  Vasquez leveled Donovan with a running shoulder block, then pulled him up to his feet, and hit a lung blower, flopping Donovan back to the mat.  AV covered.


One...


Two...


Kickout!

Angus:
SHIT FIRE AND SAVE BOX-MATCHES!

Donovan wasn't quite done yet, and he managed to kick out.  Vasquez pulled Donovan up, throwing him into the turnbuckle, climbing up in front of him, and rattling Jake with ten stiff punches to the head.  Vasquez then leapt up and backwards from the corner, flashing out with a fadeaway dropkick to Donovan's head, as Jake crumbled into the corner.

Vasquez then left Jake behind, and went to tag in Jiles.  But as he approached, Cancer dropped down to the floor, refusing to get back into the match.  Vasquez yelled at Cancer to get in, but Jiles continued to claim that AV had "it all under control", and insisted there was no reason for him to get involved.  Vasquez, realizing he wasn't going to catch a break after all, reluctantly turned back towards Donovan

And found he had used the time of the argument to recover, and he was now perched on the top rope, ready to leap.  And leap Donovan did, connecting with a DRAGONRANA, and holding for a pin!

Angus:
SHIT! FUCK! NO!


One...


Two...


Thr.

WHAM!!!!!!

Angus:
ohthankfuckinggod.

As soon as Donovan had gone airborne, Jiles had slid into the ring, and while Donovan struggled to hold onto the pin, Jiles had suckerkicked him with yet another nasty TERMINAL CANCER.  Donovan, completely out of it, flopped to the mat, while the referee looked on in confusion (of course he was too busy counting to notice this)  Jiles slid out of the ring, and Vasquez, who had absolutely no idea what just happened, took the opportunity and made the cover.


One...


Two...


Three!

Angus:
YES! YES YES!

ELIMINATED: JAKE DONOVAN

Advancing to the Finale: Aaron Vasquez and Cancer Jiles

As soon as the match was over, Jiles was back into the ring, smirking at Aaron Vasquez.  AV, who had just about of enough of Jiles through the whole match, got in his face, and again the two began to jaw at each other, the entire arena erupting into cheers as if the Defiance Champion and his top contender were about to start throwing down right then!!!

Quick thinking security guards hit the ring, and pried the two men away from each other before it could come to blows.  Reluctantly, Vasquez, then Jiles, were led backstage, while the crowd buzzed excitedly over the end of the preliminary matches, and the battle royal that was to come next.


=-=-=


Angus:
Ladies and Gentlemen, we have finally arrived. It’s time to shit or get off the pot.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!

Angus:
Joe Drago. Cancer Jiles. Stephen Greer. Wendy Briese. Cobra. Aaron Vasquez. Victor Mandrake. Christian Light. And the mysterious Jormungand. These will be the names etched in history, to live on in immortality as the combatants whose actions will decide not only a NEW WWA World Heavyweight Champion, but the very fate of the World Wrestling Alliance itself! This event, in the long held tradition of participants from the world over coming together to embrace the spirit of competition, has been making and breaking the biggest and the best in the world of professional wrestling every summer since the new millenium! THIS is Summer Games!

Kevin/Satan:
KEEP IT SHORT! Heh... Get to the point!

Angus:
Oh, ah, what I meant to say was, this is where we pull our dicks out and piss on the Alliance.

[A challenger appears!]

Pete MASK Dos:
Yo soy Pete MASK Dos! El Huevo bandito es numero uno!

Angus:
Oh, wonderful. You’re awake now. And just what the hell am I listening to?

[As does “The Comedian”.]

Damien DeSett:
I don’t have time to explain! This has gone on entirely too long now and the document has encountered a server error or bug! We’ve got to look into the problem now! Kevin, Pete! FUCKBOLTS... ASSEMBLE!

[With that inexplicable bout of nonsense, Angus is finally left alone to do the job as only he can.]

[Perhaps for the final time.]


=-=-=



“Ladies and gentlemen... THIS! IS YOUR MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN EVENT!”

Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

“In this over-the-top-rope battle royale, each competitor MUST be eliminated by being thrown over the top rope, and both of their feet MUST touch the floor!”

A pause, as the announcer, one Darren “DQ” Quimbey, looked out into the screaming mob of fan-based lifeforms. He smiled, and brought the mic back to his lips, card with phonetic pronunciations of each wrestler’s name in hand, but that was when the first few licks of entrance music began to play.

Why, it was most definitely not the raging metal or rap that most wrestlers used. No, it was gee-tar, in a most classic rock style. The fans born before 1985 would instantly recognise the song as Boston’s “Peace of Mind”, a classic piece of musical history.

Who the hell would use it as entrance music?

AS:
I have to say, that’s one way to differentiate yourself.

The gorilla position curtains were flung open, and out from the back, all full of piss n’ vinegar, rushed a tall, bald, black man. He grinned, snapping his fingers and rockin’ to the beat of “Peace of Mind”, and this, THIS was a mixed reaction.

Boston Bancroft threw his arms wide, a brilliant, pearly-white-exposing grin on his lips. As a man without a home fed, Boston was wearing a piece of nostalgia, a t-shirt with the old “AWF” logo upon it. Former home to Zortalk, Cannon, Brad Jackson, and Messr. Double B himself.

Boston threw his arms wide, giving a “YEAAAAAAAAAH!” to the fans in attendance. As the music continued to blare, Double B headed down the ramp, even dallying for long enough to slap some of the outstretched hands of fans by ringside. Coming to the ring, Boston dove under the bottom rope, rolling to his knees.

A microphone was pulled out of the waistband of Boston’s tights, sleek black spandex with brilliant, reflective golden bands going up and down either thigh, and one around the waist. With seven bands on each leg, it was pretty, but to those who remembered... That signified the number of Heavyweight and World Championship belts that Boston had won.

He wasn’t stuck in the past or anything.

Boston checked the butt of the mike, and looked up, grinning.

Boston Bancroft:
Told you I’d be here.

RAAAAAAHHHHBOOOOOOO

Boston shrugged a bit at the mixed response. Better than he had hoped for, honestly.

Boston:
So... As people so frequently have been reminding me, I still have a contractually obligated World Heavyweight Championship opportunity.

A moment’s pause, before Boston glanced down to the ring.

Boston:
This Finale Rumble is for the WWA World Heavyweight Championship.

Beat.

Boston:
I, Boston Bancroft, am officially cashing in my WWA World Championship title shot right here and now. I’m the first participant in this Rumble, and I’m not leaving until I’m eliminated. So, whoever wants to come out first and get in this ring, mano y mano, with Double B...

Boston grinned lopsidedly, walking over to the ring ropes and taking a seat on the middle one, making it even easier for someone to enter the ring.

Boston:
Come on out and we can start this Summer Games Finale Rumble off right.

A pause, as Boston sat on the ropes, grinning. The mic was handed off to a stagehand, who flipped it off and moved away, giving Boston plenty of room.

AS:
There’s a shitload of people in the finals here that I wouldn’t want to piss off. I’m not so sure that Boston’s confidence is gonna help hi-

Guitars, and these ones were definitely metal-style. The intro to Devildriver’s “Pray for Villains” blasted the arena, and the fans lit up, cheering for him. One way or another, Victor Mandrake was the man carrying the WWA flag, and so they were behind him. The lights dropped, as the song continued to play, and a set of red lights hit the entryway ramp.

Needless to say, the smile had been wiped clear off of Boston’s face, and he stood, backing up and getting into “game mode”. There was, however, a touch of worry to Boston’s features.

AS:
I think Boston’s shit-talking finally caught up with him.

Out of the back stepped Diablo, the humongous wrestler who had been one of the primary targets of Boston’s tirades. Upon seeing Mr. Bancroft alone in the ring, the smile plastered across Mandrake’s face was quite devilish. (ba-dum-pssh!)

Victor was in no hurry. He knew that Boston wouldn’t run, because to Boston, a lot was riding on this comeback. Down to the ring walked the biggest of the big men around, a hand running through his thick black hair, brushing it back over his head. As Boston stood in the ring, shaking out his arms, bouncing from foot to foot, the two met eyes, and Victor’s smile just grew.

AS:
Boston Bancroft is in a shitty fucking part of town right now.

Victor grabbed onto that top rope, and climbed up onto the ring apron, the metal superstructure of the ring shaking a bit as he did. Over the top rope Victor climbed, first one tree-trunk sized leg, then the other. And before Mandrake’s second foot even fully touched the ground, Boston Bancroft exploded from his stance, rushing across the ring, and leaping into the air! Biiiiig flying forearm to Mandrake’s face, and a brutal series of rights and lefts, BB just throwing powerful hooks, jabs, and crosses, rocking Mandrake’s face, battering his chin, and pounding Victor Mandrake right in the kisser!

AS:
Am I the only one who thinks Mandrake doesn’t feel it?

Victor Mandrake put a hand on Boston Bancroft’s shoulder, and plowed Boston directly in the face with a headbutt, that sent Boston snapping to the mat like a marionette with the strings cut.

AS:
Hooooooooooooooly hell.

Mandrake grabbed Boston by the shoulders, and hauled the six foot six wrestler back to his feet as effortlessly as if he was lifting a paper bag off the ground. A shove, and Boston stumble-ran backwards into the ring corner, hitting hard. Victor sauntered over, and dropped one, two, three forearms on Boston’s face, until those in the front row could hear the wet SPLURCH of Boston’s nose giving way.

Needless to say, some others decided that now would be a good time to rush the ring. First and foremost, the music of one Wendy Briese, “Elevation” by U2, the incredibly catchy, and even more infuriatingly easy to get stuck in your head than any other pop song, hit the speakers. Out from the back walked the Woman Warrior, the only chick to show up tonight and make it to the finals, eyes locked on the ring.

AS:
Well, at least this two-on-one isn’t on a DEFIANCE guy.

Wendy took her sweet time getting to the ring, as Mandrake wore Boston out with brutally powerful jabs. Being polite enough to not obliterate Boston’s shirt(Hey, AWF was a WWA fed, and not a DEFIANCE-friendly fed), Mandrake stripped it off of Boston’s chest, and a hand the size of a stop sign flew through the air, landing with an earsplitting CRACK across the black man’s pecs.

AS:
Good GOD, they heard that in the cheap seats like they were at ringside!

Wendy slid into the ring, keeping a wary eye on Mandrake. With Boston held up in the corner, Wendy was just able to turn, climb onto a middle turnbuckle, and wave to the fans. To the thousands of old-school fans here in the Cowboys’ Stadium, that meant camera time, and flashbulbs went off like crazy.

Boston wouldn’t be happy that for half of those shots, his face was contorted in agony and looked really weird.

This was the point when Christian Light’s music, “Peh peh peh peh”, hit, and the crowd erupted. And, luckily for Boston Bancroft, Christian Light was the least likely person in Summer Games to work with Victor Mandrake.

AS:
Even more lucky for Boston, Light’s got “The Reaper”, Joe Drago with him! These odds just got a LOT more even!

Did Angus just respond to narration?

Light and Drago stepped out from the back, as a unit. Wendy was watching them, and after glancing impassively to the fallen Boston, she swatted Mandake on the arm. Victor looked up from his task of stomping a hole through Boston’s sternum, and looked up the ramp at Light.

Diablo smiled. Again. Light, to his credit, didn’t waver, but just began the long march down to the ring. Victor put a knee on the middle rope, and began to pull up on the top rope, seperating them for ease of entry. As Drago and Light got down to the ring, they cased the joint, and climbed up, and into the ring.

Sure, Light and Mandrake really, really didn’t like one another, but then, there was some level of mutual respect between them as wrestlers.

Light and Drago backed into one ring corner. With blood still gushing from his nose, Boston was gesturing frantically under the bottom rope for someone to bring him a towel, as he crawled up to lean against the ring corner. Mandrake laughed deeply, and stepped back, leaning his titanic frame against the ring ropes.

Synth intro. “J’yeah, baby!” Daps n’ Pounds, by Kid Cudi hit, and everyone, whether they liked Light, Mandrake, Drago, Wendy or Boston to win, it didn’t matter. Most adults haaaaaaated “COOL” Cancer Jiles.

Although the kids loved ‘im!

Blue, COOL lights hit the entryway, and out from the back, thumbs tucked into the waistband of his boxing shorts, swaggered the COOL one, Cancer Jiles. In his characteristic “COOL as Cancer” tee-shirt, and of course, those stunna shades, Cancer Jiles looked fairly confident. Fairly cocky.

AS:
For the love of god will someone slap the shit out of him please?

CCJ paused halfway down the ramp, head snapping up to look over at a person in the stands. Bearded. Cowboy hat. It was as likely to not actually be the guy, but CCJ paused, and levelled a pair of fingers, double kickstands-style, at the man.

”COOL” Cancer Jiles:
FUCK YOU, CHUCK NORRIS!

CCJ grinned, and turned, swaggering back down towards the ring. Taking a look up at all the people in the ring, he climbed slowly onto the steel ring-steps, holding onto the steel ringpost. He didn’t need to get into the ring quite as of yet...

That was when Bloodsport, by Mobb Deep hit. Jiles’ head snapped back towards the entryway, but he was almost too late. Aaron Vasquez was here, and he was already flying down the ramp towards Jiles!

Jiles didn’t lose his COOL. No, the look on his face was shock at how unCOOL someone could be. Coming out to rap, wearing a bandana over their face, being a thug... Completely unCOOL. But, he was backing up, trying to get some space between him and Vasquez. Unfortunately, Vasquez was beelining for him, not giving the COOL one an inch!

AS:
Here we go! AV has been itching for a chance to get to kick Cancer Jiles’ ass, and I can’t wait!

AV and CCJ impacted with the force of two bulls in a mating frenzy, each one trying to impress the same super-hot whatever. And the whatever, in this case, was 20 pounds of leather and gold. AV kept throwing brutal, vicious right hands, until COOL Cancer Jiles broke and ran, diving under the bottom rope and into the ring! Vasquez went to follow, but the ref immediately got in the way, and CCJ found himself in the “No Man’s Land” corner, beside Boston Bancroft.

With a towel still held to his nose, squatting in the corner, Boston gave a solemn, manly head-bob to CCJ. Neither man had friends in this Rumble, and CCJ’s face went a bit still.

AS:
...Is Cancer Jiles trying to decide if he wants to team up with Double B?

Maybe.

Thump. BWAH-DAH-DAH-DAH... DOO-DEE-DOO-DOO-DOO

The intro to Metallica’s “Whereever I May Roam”, and the house lights dropped. The Hyda was here. And doom was coming to all those in the ring. Green spotlights hit the entryway ramp, just in time to catch the first few Serpentalist cultists coming from the back, in their hooded robes.

Person after person, identityless and genderless, filed out of the back in a column of two. Aaron Vasquez was the only person who was ignoring them, itching to get at... Well, someone. His gaze kept flicking from the COOL one to Diablo, completely ignoring these random people coming out and surrounding the ring.

Mandrake was laughing at them. He knew what powers the eldritch gods held, and he was hardly intimidated by some random robed cultists. Wendy Briese stared impassively at them from Victor’s side. COOL Cancer Jiles kept looking from them to AV, hand rubbing gently at his jaw. After a moment, he nudged the now-standing Boston Bancroft in the side and pointed to one.

COOL Cancer Jiles:
Lookit that one! Fatty fatty fat fat!

The cultist in question did indeed have a bit of a gut. Boston snickered quietly, and CCJ looked up to him, then rolled his eyes, muttering something about “Doozer woulda loved that”, and insinuating something about Boston liking dick.

Joe Drago and Christian Light watched the entryway seriously, heads leaned a bit together, muttering to one another. Sharing tips and ideas about who Jormungand was, how best to beat Cobra, whether or not they should team up on Greer...

Once the cultists had surrounded the ring, shoulder-to-shoulder going all the way from the gorilla position, down to the ring, around it, back up the ramp back to the gorilla position, they began that same chant. It was likely bolstered by mics or a recording or something, of course.

THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Out from the back, the song still blaring, walked first the “King of Pain”, Stephen Greer. Former WWA World Tag Team Champion in Team Danger and Team Danger*, former NWA World Heavyweight Champion, and a buttload of other accolades. He slowly rotated that Hellfire’n arm around, other hand clutched to his shoulder. Serious-face looked at the ring, watching everyone in it.

That was a lot of humanity in thar. Lots of flesh to Lariat.

Greer took a few steps forward, hands coming down to his hips. Pausing, Greer glanced back over his shoulder.

In a spangly green robe, Cobra walked from the back, the grin on his face putting any previous “Cat that ate the canary” grins to shame. He raised his arms up over his head, hands open, and the chant began again.

THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

Cobra walked down the ramp a bit, pausing by Stephen Greer’s side. The two shared a quick word, before both pointed to the back. As Metallica still blared, the chanting grew even louder and louder. It was time for Jormungand to finally appear.

THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!
THE SERPENT SAVES US ALL!

The curtains parted, and in a similar robe to Cobra’s, out walked a person with a giant fake snake-head over their own head. It was massive, at least three feet tall, and wobbled slightly with each step. It was as if the Cobra City Snakiacs’ mascot had showed up.

Victor Mandrake, in the ring, began to laugh hysterically. And for once, COOL Cancer Jiles just echoed Mandrake, both men holding their stomachs. Wendy arched an eyebrow, a look of disbelief on her face. Boston’s eyebrows knitted together. He wasn’t buying it. Light and Drago kept mumbling to one another, and Vasquez barely spared them a glance. He was here to not fight with Hydra until final-four time. AV only had eyes for Mandrake and Jiles.

The chant started to creciendo as the three members of Hydra began to walk down to the ring. Was that finally Jormungand? The man their entire religion was based on? After all of these months and years...

Cobra doffed the robe, handing it to a random Serpentalist on the way. Kay Oh Pee ignored everyone, heading straight for the ring. He rolled right under the bottom, and popped back up to his feet, fists going into the air.

Now THAT was a Yayboo moment. This crowd couldn’t get much more split.

Cobra came rushing into the ring, diving under the bottom rope and sliding on his stomach, slithering into the ring with a huge grin on his lips. Coming to his feet, Cobra slowly turned a circle, looking around the ring with slitted eyes, at all the future dead people surrounding him.

Jormungand slowly walked up the steel ring steps, and onto the apron. Once there, he paused, hands on the top rope, as if making sure his mask was secure and he wasn’t going to fall. And then, Jormungand raised his arms into the air, almost mirroring Cobra’s pose when the Serpentalist had summoned Jormungand.

The lights went out, and the music stopped. There was a commotion, as if perhaps the crowd of cultists were rushing away from the ringside area, and flashbulbs went off, trying to penetrate the darkness. Some laser pointers went off, vaguely showing outlines, but not much else.

AS:
For the love of Jormungand, will we get to the big reveal? This shit is killing me!

The lights slowly came back up, revealing... Well, just about everyone except Stephen Greer, Cobra, and Jormungand on one side of the ring, the Hydra trio on the other. The people arranged opposite looked around in confusion. This wasn’t where most of them were standing... But, as Jormungand slowly lifted his hands to his mask, all attention was on him.

Slowly, the mask was lifted away, straps having been removed moments prior in secret, and the man’s head became clear.

Eric Dane smiled, wiping a hand though slightly sweaty hair, stroking his long, blonde mane back into place, before dumping the mask over the top rope.

AS:
Jormungand is ERIC DANE?!

Cobra threw his head back and laughed, deeply, as Dane began to pull his robe off, exposing those familiar silver and black star-spangled tights. Tossing the robe over his shoulder, Dane reached behind him with his other hand, and pulled that long, black cane that he was so reliant on, out of the waistband of his pants.

Cobra kept laughing, all the way up until Dane brained him with the aluminum cane.

AS:
Oh... Oh my god.

Skaaland was having a hard time disguising the pure erotic glee he felt.

As Cobra stumbled forward, Greer took a step toward the front of the pack of opposing wrestlers, which was closer to Joe Drago. A grin appeared on his lips, and Greer spun on his heel, before turning.

AS:
The windup...

And Greer almost plowed into Eric Dane, after absolutely annihilating Cobra with the Hellfire Lariat.

AS:   
IT’S A HOME RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!

Greer scooped Cobra up with a armtwist, grabbing the back of the mask. The ref realized as Greer ran with Cobra towards the ring ropes “Hey, everyone’s in the ring!”, and signalled for the bell.

Just as the match began, the very first elimination happened, and Stephen Greer tossed a comatose Cobra over the top rope.

ELIMINATED: COBRA

AS:
AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA COBRA IS GONE! TEAM DANGER TRUMPS HYDRA!

Dane grinned, planting the cane between his feet, leaning on it a bit heavily. Greer turned, clenching his fists. Cobra was totally out by ringside, and the people in the ring were shocked.

Not shocked enough to keep from starting this shit off right, though! Light turned on his heel, to look up at the big man behind him. Victor Mandrake wasn’t sure who exactly to look at, but after a moment, he looked down... Just as Christian Light shot off a forearm directly to the mush!

Vasquez jumped Cancer Jiles, Briese went after a rushing-in Stephen Greer, Drago spun on his heel and made a quick decision, hammering a boot into Victor Mandrake’s stomach. His nosebleed slightly staunched and crusting over by now, Boston Bancroft made a snap decision of his own, and began to fire powerful forearms into Victor Mandrake’s head.

AS:
Victor Mandrake is taking a three-man shitkicking! Jiles and Vasquez have a hatefucking thing going on! Briese versus Drago! Dane is watching and laughing!

Mandrake was shoved into a ring corner, Drago, Light and Bancroft taking turns hammering powerful boots into his stomach. Wendy ended up in another ring corner, Greer easily overpowering her, and shooting off a POWERFUL knife-edged chop to Wendy’s chestal area! The smaller woman’s face blanched as the chop echoed to the rafters, her womanly parts in quite a bit of pain.

CCJ went low, hooking Vasquez’ waist and legs, and double leg takedown’d Chico! The COOL one shot off a knee as they fell, nailing AV directly in the ‘nads, and the tables had finally turned! With Vasquez in agony, CCJ began to hammer elbows into the side of AV’s head, trying his very damnedest to whip that ass!

Victor Mandrake was growing very, very tired of having these guys beating on him. Reaching out with two hands, he grabbed Boston Bancroft by the skull, and grabbed Christian Light by the skull, and smacked the two men’s heads together with a sound like two cantaloupes impacting wetly! Boston and Light dropped, and Mandrake slapped a hand around Joe Drago’s neck!

AS:
Oh balls. Mandrake’s pissed. CHOKESLAM ON DRAGO!

On top of Christian Light.

The path was clear.

Victor Mandrake lumbered across the ring, heading directly for Eric Dane. Dane took a limping step backward, favoring that knee, using his cane for support, and Mandrake grinned a big, big grin.

Dane backed up against the ring ropes, lifting that cane out before him as a weapon. Mandrake barked a laugh, and slapped the cane away, before reaching out and touching someone. Dane. In the face, with a jab. Eric’s world was rocked, and Mandrake put his big hand on the side of Dane’s face, and SHOVED, throwing the Only Star into the ring corner, sprawling to the mat.

Greer glanced across the ring at Dane and Mandrake, biting his bottom lip. Help Eric, or finish with Wendy? Decisions, decisions...

And then Wendy hauled off, hammering an elbow into the side of Greer’s head, with a roar of exertion of her own! Greer staggered back, and Wendy rushed forward, leaping and bringing her legs up, around Stephen’s head and neck. With a backwards flip, Wendy ‘rana’d Greer to the mat, sending the Kay Oh Pee skidding into the ring corner!

That meant Eric Dane was left alone to fend for himself against Victor Mandrake. Pulling himself up painfully, Dane looked like a horse with a broken leg. He just plain couldn’t get himself to his feet. Mandrake reached down, grabbing a big fistful of his hair and yanking Dane back to his feet.

Dane cried out in pain as Mandrake set Eric back on his feet, and Victor brought one big, big hand up, the hand coming crashing down on Dane’s chest and slapping an echoing CRACK onto Eric Dane’s chest.

AS:
Again, you’re welcome, cheap seats.

Christian Light, Boston Bancroft, and Joe Drago were finally coming back up, to their feet. Boston hung over the top rope, glancing to Light and Drago, panting. His nose was shot, leaving mouthbreathing as his only way of getting air. Drago nodded to Boston, then to Light, and the three of them rushed across the ring. Boston went for a chop block on Mandrake, Light went for a running dropkick to the small of the back, and Drago came in with a SECOND chop block!

Needless to say, Victor Mandrake went to a knee.

With Mandrake bowing in front of him... Eric Dane dropped the cane, hopped nimbly up, onto the top rope, hooked Mandrake’s head, and leapt off, spinning and forcing Vic to crash face-first into the mat, Tornado DDT-style!

AS:
Wait a fucking minute.

Dane popped back up, grinning brightly, arms going out to his sides. On that bad knee, Dane twirled, fingers beckoning reverence from the crowd. As he finally ended his spin, he was facing the still-angry, still-capable Victor Mandrake. Dane snickered to himself, and bolted for Mandrake. A step off of Vic’s knee, and Dane shot that “hurt” knee off into Victor’s face, Shining Star-style!

AS:
SHINING STAR! DANE’S BEEN PLAYING POSSUM THIS WHOLE TIME, HIS KNEE IS JUST FINE!

As Dane landed, straddling Mandrake’s fallen-prone body, he shot his arms out to both sides. The longtime Dane fans erupted, the longtime Dane haters didn’t.

Christian Light gaped with surprise, Joe Drago looked from his boss, to the others in the ring, and started to make a quick decision. Boston Bancroft just backpedalled, ending up in a neutral corner, a hand coming up protectively to his sore nose. What to do now? Boston looked nervously around the ring...

Cancer Jiles was forced back to his feet, the side headlock cinched in tight on Chico. The downtrodden ‘Nuccarican was doubled over, as CCJ ground that headlock in tight, his forearm grinding on Chico’s face. As Jiles tried to keep that headlock on, though, Chico gritted his teeth, and managed to turn himself around enough to get an angle.

Elbows began to hammer and smash into Jiles’ stomach, again and again and again, exploding the breath out of his lungs. A doublehanded shove, and Jiles went stumbling away, into the waiting arms of Joe Drago. Pictureperfect German Suplex brought Jiles down on his head, and Drago suddenly had a new goal.

Kill the COOL one.

Light and Dane were busy stomping a big fucking mudhole into Victor Mandrake’s chest and face, Dane setting his boot against Victor’s throat and pulling against the ring ropes, adding even more pressure and tension to the choke. As Diablo’s face reddened, it seemed that the surviving parts of Team Danger had the ultimate advantage!

Wendy had Greer pinned down in the corner, a painful armbar locked in, braced with her entire body’s weight. Greer’s face was twisted in agony, free hand grabbing fruitlessly at the bottom rope. He needed to get free... But there were no rope breaks!

AS:
Dane! Light! Someone help Greer out!

Boston Bancroft had finally chosen his mark. Coming roaring across the ring, Boston shot out a foot. Wendy looked up at precisely the wrong time, and caught that brutal Yakuza kick to the face, snapping the Whirlybird to the mat! Greer’s arm was released, and the King of Pain slumped into the ring corner, eyes coming up to glance at his helper.

Boston didn’t even pause to take a look back, just bent, scooping Wendy up with that ‘80s-tastic scoop slam. With Wendy held luchador-dart style on his shoulder, Boston proceeded to the ring ropes, intent on dumping her bodily from the ring. Wendy’s legs thrashed and kicked, the woman struggling and tryng her very best to not let the big man toss her...

Boston’s grip slipped juuuuuuuuuuuust enough for Wendy to slide down his back, an arm cinching around his neck. Boston arched back painfully, the hundred-*ahem* pounds of womanly power coming directly down on his throat forcing the big man to stumble, Wendy’s grip twice as furious and strong as Boston’s had been. There would be no getting free from this one with a simple mistake!

AS:
Wendy’s cinching in a Dragon Sleeper on Big Bad Boston! I think this comeback may have been a bit... premature!

Drago and Jiles were exchanging rights and lefts, Vasquez taking a rebound off the ropes to get a REAL running start going. As Drago hammered a boot into Jiles’ stomach, the COOL one ducked and stumbled backwards. This meant that the lariat that AV was thowing went right over Jiles’ back... And took Joe Drago’s face off!

CCJ coughed wetly, and as Vasquez turned, CCJ shot out a COOL-fuelled kick to Chico’s family jewels! Chico wobbled and fell to his knees, CCJ stumbling to the ring ropes and taking a few gasping breaths. As Joe Drago, the Reaper, came slowly back to his feet, jaw painfully aching, COOL Cancer Jiles hit his most reliable move.

As Drago fell back down, balls in agony from the second nutshot in a row, CCJ grinned. Dane and Light were trying to keep Mandrake down, but victor was struggling, thrashing, and fighting. This meant they had to redouble their efforts. Eric AND Christian put their feet to Victor’s throat, making sure the big man stayed down, and didn’t begin to haunt them.

Greer had gotten back up. Seeing Boston locked in that photo-perfect Dragon Sleeper, Greer backed up, hitting the ropes... And he went charging across the ring, winding up again! That Hellfire Lariat was cued up, and Wendy had no idea...

AS:
Holy shitfire.

Greer was staggered to see the Hellfire ducked. He stumbled, overbalancing... And Wendy had already let go of Boston. She followed Greer, grabbing that long-ago-injured knee and trying for the quick elimination! Yanking up on it, forcing Greer’s knee to overextend upwards, Wendy tried her very damnedest to pull Greer up and over the top...

Arm went forward... Arm snapped back. Wendy took the elbow, full to the face. Stumbling back, Wendy clapped both hands to her face. Boston Bancroft had gotten the woozies shaken from his head, and as Wendy staggered, Boston was there.

AS:
SPINNING BACKFIST! THE PIMP-HAND TO WENDY!

Wendy stumbled away from Boston, and Greer just slooooowly arched an eyebrow.

AS:
Ruh-roh. Boston just stepped on Greer’s Uraken’s toes.

Greer spun on his heel, backhanding Wendy with one of his own! Wendy spun around, going to a knee, both sides of her face painfully impacted by the powerful blows! As she came up, Boston was waiting, and Wendy took another backfist, this time from Boston!

Greer took a step back, flexing his backhanding arm... And as he shot another off on Wendy, Wendy ducked, legs shooting out! Greer’s legs were tangled up in Wendy’s, and Greer stumbled, dropping from the toehold...

And Greer’s arm came out as he fell, snapping into Boston’s leg, cracking him directly in Boston’s long-ago hurt knee! Boston fell, howling in pain, as Wendy came back up, panting heavily!

COOL Cancer Jiles was going back and forth between the fallen Drago and the fallen Vasquez, kicking them in the balls again and again, to make sure they’d stay down. With everyone else in the match either being choked or in DEFIANCE(Or Team Danger, which is just as fuckin’ bad), what other choice did he have?

The COOL one grabbed Chico by one ear, and began to yank him to his feet. After the severe testicular trauma that AV had been taking, he wasn’t hard to move around. CCJ grabbed ahold of Drago’s hair, and began to pull the Reaper up.

AS:
There is absolutely no way that Cancer Jiles will eliminate Joe Drago and Aaron Vasquez at the same time.

But he was sure gonna try. Backing up with Drago and Chico’s heads held in either hand, Jiles rushed forward... AND TOSSED BOTH GUYS OVER THE TOP!

Chico snagged the top rope with a hand, and landed hard on his hip, on the ring apron. Drago actually managed to grab the top rope with BOTH hands, spinning around and landing on both feet on the apron! The COOL one was shocked, and came running back in, fist coming back, but Drago blocked a punch, firing off one of his own!

Chico shot out a shoulder tackle, and COOL Cancer Jiles stumbled away. Drago went back in, real quick, and Vasquez just tumbled back into the ring under the top rope. God damn did his balls hurt.

Wendy Briese was struggling with Stephen Greer, on the opposite side of the ring. Drago headed after Jiles, but glanced over to where Victor Mandrake was doing his very best to get free from Light and Dane.

Eric Dane:
Drago! Get over here and kick this fat fuck in the face!

Joe Drago had a score to settle with Mandrake. So, taking a few steps back, Drago came flying across the ring, only to leap, and give a high-elevation dropkick to Victor Mandrake’s face!

Wendy had managed to get Greer down to a knee, and hooked his arm over the bottom rope. Springboarding off the bottom rope, Wendy came down, her entire bodyweight coming down onto his arm...

AS:
VAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!

Greer had pulled his arm back just enough to get his hand facing upward, between her legs. The armbreaker move failed, and Greer’s fingers clawed at Wendy’s groin! With a screech of fury and pain, Wendy turned, and SHOVED Greer away, the KoP’s hold broken!

Greer stumbled into the ropes, laughing and wiping his hand off on his ring trunks, trying to get the smell off his fingers.

AS:
Oh my god, Wendy Rottencrotch, I can smell that from here!

Greer cackled as he looked up from his stinkfinger... And in came Wendy, pivoting on her heel. She wasn’t a musclebound woman, but the discus windup meant that when Wendy dropped to her knee, all that momentum went straight to her hand, and Stephen Greer took the Discus Dick-Punch, 100% dead-on.

Greer’s laugh exploded into a scream, and as his balls were still in agony, Wendy ducked, waistlocking Greer. She lifted, giving a most unladylike grunt of pain, and tipped Stephen Greer over the top.. and to the floor.

ELIMINATED: STEPHEN GREER

The crowd erupted, some even trying to start up a “NA NA NA NA, NA NA NA NA, HEY HEY HEY, GOODBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYE!” chant. Eric Dane’s eyes bulged, as he looked across the ring, after where Greer had gone. Wendy slumped in the corner of the ring, panting, her legs together with still-sharp pain to her groin.

AS:
Cobra AND Stephen Greer gone early? Someone pinch me, this is a bad dream.

With Dane unfocused, this was Victor Mandrake’s chance. Taking a deep breath, Mandrake grabbed at Light’s ankle and SHOVED, sending Christian stumbling away! Drago caught a palmthrust to the face, and Mandrake powered to his feet.

AS:
ERIC! TURN AROUND!

Feeling the movements on the mat, Eric turned... and Victor shot his hands out, clapping them both to Eric Dane’s neck. A lift, as Dane was still surprised, and Diablo lifted Dane right up, and over the top rope! Fingers let go, and The Only Star hit the floor, with both feet!

ELIMINATED: ERIC DANE

AS:
This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening...

Victor Mandrake hammered a powerful stomp into Christian Light’s stomach, doubling Light over. A double axehandle smash sent Light crashing to his stomach, and out of the fight. Christian grabbed onto the bottom rope, hugging it, trying to get some wind back into him after the smash.

Boston and COOL Cancer Jiles were teaming up once more, in the other side of the ring. Aaron Vasquez was the unhappy third part of this menage-a-pain, the two men having gotten him off his feet, but Chico disagreeing with Boston and Cancer’s plan of elimination. With Chico clinging to the top rope, a leg hooked under the middle, Boston and CCJ kept lifting and shoving, trying to get AV to go.

Wendy Briese was kneeling in a neutral corner, catching her breath, watching those still in this fight. There were a lot of ‘em, and all of them were bigger than her. She needed to pick her place very, very carefully.

Joe Drago walked right up to the 7’4” Victor Mandrake, and reached up, backhand slapping Victor Mandrake right across the face. Victor had been looking down at the poor Last Nighthawk, who he was standing on with one foot, and this was clear out of the blue

AS:
Joe Drago is about to die.

Vic hauled off, and just PLASTERED Joe in the face, sending the Reaper stumbling back, almost falling over, but definitely dropping to one knee. Victor smirked, and looked back down to the agonized Christian Light, grabbing onto the nearby top rope and pulling up, even as he pushed down, lifting his other foot off the ground and putting MORE weight on Light.

Drago got himself back up, walked right back up to Victor Mandrake, and threw a straight punch into Mandrake’s mouth, ACTUALLY rocking the big man! Victor’s gaze, disrupted from looking down at the Last Nighthawk, came back up to Drago, and Diablo let out a growl. Cocking back an arm, Mandrake went to throw a punch...

AS:
DRAGO NEEDS TWO HANDS TO BLOCK MANDRAKE’S PUNCHES!

It was true, he did.

But block the punch, Joe Drago did.

Victor snarled, and brought his other massive arm roaring in, hammering it into Drago’s stomach. Joe’s pelvis shot out behind him, almost falling flat on his face from the impact of the punch, but Drago managed to stay on his feet! Somewhere deep in Cowboys Stadium, Murray Monroe was eating his fingernails down to the bone.

Mandrake rushed forward, an arm slipping between Drago’s thighs, other arm going around a shoulder, and Diablo pivoted, a snap powerslam hammering Joe into the ring with earthshaking power!

Wendy Briese came slipping in from behind, kicking at the back of Christian Light’s head, and Mandrake rose from the motionless, agonized body of The Reaper. Grinning, Victor came on over to Wendy’s side, helping rain pain down upon the Last Nighthawk.
Boston and Jiles were straining and struggling to throw Vasquez over, working as a team.

CCJ:
Hey, Big B. Hold this.

Cancer Jiles suddenly let go of Aaron Vasquez, and turned, slipping quickly across the ring. Joe Drago was on hands and knees, barely more than a few inches from the ground, trying to get himself back together...

Cancer Jiles grabbed a fistful of hair, grabbed the back of Joe Drago’s ring trunks, and hauled Joe up, before rushing to the ropes, pitching the Reaper up and over the top... And Joe, still dazed, dizzy, and aching from that 375-pound Powerslam, tumbled painfully to the floor.

ELIMINATED: JOE DRAGO

AS:
Cancer Jiles got an elimination? Fuck this gay Earth. I’m going to go eat a bottleful of aspirin.

With Jiles’ strength gone from the lift, it really, really wasn’t hard for Aaron Vasquez to wiggle free of Boston’s grip. Punches and forearms peppered Boston’s face, and Boston staggered back, letting go of Aaron Vasquez. Vasquez landed on both feet, panting, before rushing after Boston, clasping his hands together and plastering Boston in the chest with both hands, a sick-looking double axehandle smash sending Boston slamming to the mat!

AV went blowing by Boston, and as Wendy Briese turned, walking away from Christian Light, AV leapt, catching Wendy by the hair, knees doubling up. Thinking Wendy would be able to hold him, AV was quite shocked when Wendy’s knees buckle, and AV went crashing down on top of her!

AS:
I think AV meant for a lungblower there, but it looked more like a Thesz Double Kneedrop!

The COOL one was lingering in the corner of the ring, eyes flicking warily from person to person. He had had enough, and looked to the backstage, beckoning. As if they had been waiting for a signal, Doozer and The Dude came running out from the back, both men carrying small burlap sacks in hand.

The referees saw this, and collectively shat a brick. There were two set for this match, one on the floor to ensure both feet touched, one bouncing around in the ring and trying with all the effort of the Lord Jesus and every Catholic saint to NOT get in anyone’s way.

Too many of these guys weighed enough to crack a rib, for him to want to get sandwiched or kicked or anything.

But, both of them went quickly towards the entryway ramp, the one on the floor crossing his arms and waving them off, before wagging a finger at them. He had been instructed to keep order, by any means necessary.

Both Doozer and The Dude were trying to get past him, and to where COOL Cancer Jiles was reaching for that sack. And so, both referees had to go and stop them.

Victor Mandrake had noticed that nobody was on the loudmouthed Bancroft, and so he turned, grinning. Boston was just getting to his feet, his chest aching, his nose throbbing, his knee on fire. Boston turned around, and came face-to-chin with the grinning Diablo.

A fist plowed into Boston’s stomach, whooshing the air from his lungs. Victor tucked Boston’s head under his arm, and hooked Boston’s arm over Vic’s head. Grabbing ahold of Boston’s tights, Victor began to hoist Boston up, for a suplex...

Holding onto the tights tightly, Victor rushed forward, and simply dumped Boston over the top rope, delicately dropping Boston onto his feet, at ringside! Boston fell onto his back, and quite a few people in the arena erupted into cheers!

ELIMINATED: BOSTON BANCROFT

Eyes wide, shocked, Boston sat at ringside, on the opposite side of the ring from the members of the eGG Bandits, astonished. Looking around, Boston saw that he was alone on this side of the ring. Clapping his hands to his face, Boston let out a deep groan, and dove, scrambling under the ring apron, to vanish under the ring!

AS:
And don’t show your face around here again, ya wannabe!

Victor Mandrake turned around, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. Doozer hauled off, and THREW that bag through the air, the heavy thing tumbling and flipping in midair. COOL Cancer Jiles went back for that long bomb, and it came flying down, into his hands! Cradling it like a football, CCJ snuggled it to his chest as he ran...

Thump.

CCJ sloooowly looked up, to the smiling Diablo, the powerhouse of this match who towered over all others.

The COOL one shrugged, and lashed out with that bag o’ sand, and the metallic WHUMP of impact not only knocked Mandrake back a step, but knocked him down to a knee! Jiles swung again, this time with a backhand swing, and smashed Mandrake in the side of the face with the weapon once more, rattling big Vic’s brain-cage like it was a bell!

AS:
I swear to god, I will get a gun and shoot Cancer Jiles myself if he manages to eliminate Victor Mandrake.

The COOL one hauled off, and went for one final swing, but the ref was finally there, wrapping both arms around CCJ’s pair, howling things about “Another hit is an instant DQ!” and “I will throw you out of this bitch!”. Doozer and The Dude were being frogmarched to the back, a flying V of security guards having finally gotten there to help get rid of them...

Unfortunately for these guards, there was a shitload of other men boiling out of the back. Led by Papes, the entire contingent of Vasquez’ running buddies were here, and they blew through the security guards, fighting with the two eGG Bandits! The security guards didn’t know what the fuck, so it just became... a mess.

Wendy Briese crouched in the ring corner, again. Victor Mandrake was seeing stars, flat out on his back. Aaron Vasquez had forgotten Wendy when he heard the familiar gangbanging warcries, and leaned over the top rope, screaming and hollering for them to get the fuck out of here, they’d get him disqualified.

Chico was howling into a storm. Like they could hear him.

COOL Cancer Jiles saw his chance, and came up behind Vasquez. Grabbing both ankles, CCJ dumped AV over the top! Vasquez flew through the air, but before Jiles could even see the result, the COOL one then went diving away!

AS:
What the fuck is Jiles doing now?

AV managed to stay holding onto the top rope, as he was thrown. His face was flushing, teeth grinding together, eyes bulging knuckles whitening, biceps shaking with exertion, feet kicking... But AV held on! Chico held on!

Slowly, painfully, AV managed to pull himself up, arching his body, legs jackknifing and coming back up, until his feet went over the top rope once more! AV turned an twisted, falling onto the mat, onto his knees. Eyes came up, searching for the man who almost got ‘im...

Jiles was down in one of the ring corners, clutching the back of his head. Wendy was squatting in another, looking pensive. Victor Mandrake was out...

And Christian Light was slumped against the ring ropes, looking tired as hell. Almost as if he had just lifted up a 230-pound Niggah Rican.

b]Chico:[/b]
JU’ DEAD, WHITEBWOY

Chico came flying across the ring, foot leading the charge, and Light could barely manage a squeak of “No!” before AV kicked him with BRUTAL force in the chest. Light rebounded off the ropes, and AV fired a forearm, then another, then another, the Last Nighthawk falling back into the ropes and rebounding into each strike, making it hurt more, and more, and more, the more AV swung!

AS:
No, Chico! Think of who’s left! Two assholes and a broad who hates us! DON’T ELIMINATE LIGHT!

Chico grabbed Light by the neck and the side of his spandex ringpants, and stepped back, leading Light away from the ropes.

AS:
Oh, thank you, whatever Diety may be listening.

Chico spun, having wanted a running start. Now, with Light in tow, Chico went rushing across the ring, HURLING Christian Light over the top rope!

AS:
NO, NO, NO YOU DUMB GANGBANGER, NO!

Light barely managed to land one knee on the apron, grabbng the middle rope, the other leg going aaaaaaall the way down to touch gingerly on the floor.

AS:
OH THANK ___

Aaron Vasquez had predicted this. As Light went over, Chico danced back, pulling an arm back and crouching. As Light let out a loud cry of exertion, pain, and frustration, he managed to sloooowly pull himself up to the apron.

AS:
NO! DON’T YOU DO IT!

A cheer erupted from the crowd, as Aaron exploded into action, whirling as he charged Light. The Last Nighthawk straightened...

AS:
...hadoken...

Aaron blasted Light die-recktly in the face with the Hadoken Roaring Elbow, and Light fell cleanly out of the ring, tumbling to the floor. Both feet, his chest, his side, his face, everything touched the floor.

ELIMINATED: CHRISTIAN LIGHT

COOL Cancer Jiles grinned, and glanced to Wendy. She shrugged, and the two of them rushed across the ring. A double clothesline impacted the back of Vasquez’ head, and CHICO went flying over the top rope, AND LANDED!

AS:
FUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!

Chico was standing, and was outside the ring. But something was wrong.

COOL Cancer Jiles’ jaw dropped. Wendy blinked, running a hand slowly up an down her cheek.

AV turned, still standing on the fallen Christian Light, and dove back into the ring, sliding right past the astonished COOL one and Whirlybird.

AS:
...I think I just came. I need a cigarette.

CCJ came flying after Chico, hammering stomps into Chico as he began to rise, but AV would not be denied! Hammering brutal rights and lefts into CCJ’s stomach, Vasquez bulled back to his feet. A kneelift to CCJ’s stomach doubled over the guru of COOL, and Chico grinned. Chickenwinging first one arm, then the other, Aaron Vasquez had Cancer Jiles trapped.

AS:
Oh god yes.

Aaron Vasquez snapped a knee into Cancer Jiles’ face.

The crowd screamed for more.

Aaron Vasquez snapped another knee off into Cancer Jiles’ face. Then another. And another. Almost marching in place, AV continued to lift knee after knee into Jiles’ skull, ringing the COOL one’s bell again and again, to the approving roar of the crowd!

(some kind of crowd chant)

Wendy Briese used that perfect platform as a step. Running across the ring, she leapt, stepped off of Cancer Jiles’ back, hooked Vasquez’ neck with her arm, and swept those legs through. A spin, that broke the hold on CCJ, and Wendy’s “Vortexinator” spiked AV on his head.

HOLY SHIT
HOLY SHIT
HOLY SHIT

AS:
Vortexinator! Don’t let her get you out, Chico! You’re our last hope!

Cancer Jiles dropped to his knees, hands clapping to his face before he fell onto his stomach. Wendy panted, kneeling beside the fallen Vasquez. Mandrake was still out, the sack of sand having done its work admirably.

LET’S GO WEN-DY!
LET’S GO WEN-DY!
LET’S GO WEN-DY!

Wendy forced herself to her feet, trying to rally, but... Well, this had been a long, painful match. Wendy Briese had had most of her body groped or clawed, twisted, bent or slammed. Her stumble to the ropes to grab on and brace herself was understandable.

Cancer Jiles had crawled to the ring ropes, and was pulling himself to his feet. Wendy and Cancer both stabilized at roughly the same time, and again, they locked eyes. CCJ pointed to a side of the ring that Vic wasn’t lying in, AND that Light hadn’t been tossed over. Wendy gave a solemn nod, and working in unison once more, the eGG Bandit and the Whirlybird scooped Aaron Vasquez up, bringing him over to the ropes.

Together, Wendy and CCJ began to lift and push, hoisting AV onto the top rope. AV was just aware enough to reach out, first grabbing a handful of Wendy’s hair, then locking an arm around her neck! Wendy squawked, and Cancer Jiles grinned.

CCJ let go of AV, and took a few steps back. Wendy shouted for CCJ to “Get back here!”, and so... He did. Jiles rushed across the ring, and threw a clothesline, sending Wendy over the top rope, AND knocking Vasquez fully over the top!

AV landed facing the crowd, one arm looped over the top rope, barely managing to stay on the apron, and Wendy screamed, arms around Chico’s waist, legs flailing in midair! COOL Cancer Jiles growled in frustration, that FUCKING apron having done too much saving over the course of this match.

So, he turned, rushing across the ring to hit the ropes. As he came back, going for a shouldertackle, Wendy dropped from around Chico’s waist, landing chestfirst on the apron. AV ducked, yanking the top rope down just in time to let COOL CJ’s own momentum carry him over the top!

AS:
YES!

Cancer Jiles managed to grab onto Aaron Vasquez as he went over the top. Both fell to the floor.

AS:
NO!

ELIMINATED: “COOL” CANCER JILES
ELIMINATED: AARON VASQUEZ

With Chico’s homeboys and the eGG Bandits and WWA/DEF Security still fighting, CCJ and AV ended up on the ring floor surrounded by brawling people. Jiles was handed the spare bag of sand. AV was tossed a length of chain, and BADOW, the fight was on! They may have BOTH lost Summer Games, but that didn’t mean the fight was over!

Wendy Briese rolled under the bottom rope, panting heavily with exertion. She slowly pulled herself to her knees with the ring ropes, trying to catch her breath. Slowly, so painfully slowly, Wendy looked over to where Victor Mandrake lay.

And then Diablo sat back up.

AS:
Oh, for the love of god, he was playing possum.

Victor Mandrake stood up, as Wendy Briese slowly, shakily came to her feet.

Diablo:
Don’t think I’m going to take it easy on you just because we’re the final two.

Wendy nodded, and clenched her fists, arms shaking as she hunched over. Victor lifted an eyebrow, as Wendy doubled over. But, Wendy turned to face Victor, a shaky, but quickly powerful roar blasting from the 5’8” woman’s chest!

Wendy came charging at Victor, leaping into the air to hammer a flying elbow into Victor’s mouth! Shocked, Vic even took a step back as Wendy struck him! She stepped back, and jumped again at him, smashing him in the side of the face with another powerful elbow!

Mandrake staggered, and wobbled, arms flailing a bit. Wendy took this as a good sign, and turned, rushing across the ring. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, so she had to hope he was still foggy from the bag o’ sand shots. After rebounding off the ropes, Wendy came flying back at Victor, and leapt at him...

Diablo caught Wendy around the waist, and with a slight correction and bounce from a massive bicep, and Wendy Briese was perched on Victor Mandrake’s shoulder.

Victor rushed the side of the ring, and even with Wendy throwing elbows, punches, and kicking her legs, Wendy was tossed clear out of the ring, to hit the floor hard, like a sack of potatoes.

ELIMINATED: WENDY BRIESE

As Victor took a step or two back, fists pumping into the air. He had done it. Everyone was out of the ring, and Victor had nothing standing in his way.

AS:
Boston Bancroft is back in the ring.

Boston Bancroft was back in the ring, lurking behind Victor Mandrake.

AS:
Why is Boston Bancroft back in the ring?

Because Boston Bancroft was running at Victor Mandrake.

Mandrake heard footfalls behind him. He spun around, lashing out with a hand... and Victor caught Boston right around the throat! Diablo’s eyes bulged, his face contorting in unearthly fury, and he SQUEEZED with that hand.

Eric Dane had come rushing back out to ringside, leading an even bigger contingent of security. This time, “Buffalo” Brian Slater, DEFIANCE’s head of security was with him. With stun-sticks, clubs, and tazers, the mob of eGG Bandits, gangbangers, and WWA security guards made their way backstage, leaving Dane standing at ringside.

And by standing, this narrator of course meant “whacking the ringside ref in the head with a cane” and “reaching into the ring, grabbing the ref by the ankle, and yanking him out, then levelling the guy with an elbow”.

Mandrake dumped Boston out of the ring for the second time in the evening, and turned, grinning in joyful victory, just in time to see Dane decking the ref.

AS:
I think that Victor is going to finally murder Eric Dane, and we’re going to see it on payperview.

Mandrake went right out of the ring, over the top rope, and beelined for Dane. Fists clenched, and Victor barely managed to keep his voice level as he asked “What in the fuck do you think you are doing?”

AS:
Well, I’m oddly okay with this. Sure, I’ll be out of a job, but I bet Eric will take Mandrake with him.

As Mandrake towered over Dane, one final zebra-striped official came sprinting down from the back, running down to the ring. Skidding to a halt beside Mandrake and Dane, the ref began to motion for the two to break it up.

Diablo:
Declare me the winner right now.

The referee tugged at his shirt, and mumbled a few things, before pointing to Boston Bancroft... Who was still in the ring.

AS:
...Are you kidding me? NONE of the referees saw Bancroft be eliminated?

The referee gestured to Mandrake’s feet, which were firmly planted on the ground at ringside.

Eric Dane’s smile couldn’t get much bigger without the top of his head falling off.

AS:
And Mandrake is clearly now out of the ring.

Mandrake growled, looming over the referee, who just pointed insistently back into the ring.

AS:
I think the final two of this match has been reset!

Mandrake turned to Dane, a big finger thumping Eric in the sternum.

Diablo:
You will suffer.

Mandrake turned, and headed back into the ring, diving under the bottom rope. Boston rebounded off the ropes, and came rushing in at Victor, a foot shooting out to kick Vic in the side of the face! Mandrake wobbled back, on his knees, as Eric Dane followed Mandrake to the ring.

As Boston hammered double axe handle smashes into Mandrake’s forehead, and Dane shouted and slapped at Mandrake’s back, Victor COULD have been a touch distracted.

Instead, he let out a bellow, and charged to his feet, a European uppercut slamming into Boston’s jaw and sending Double B up, into the air! Boston crashed down onto his back, and Mandrake whirled, to face Eric Dane, who was still standing on the apron.

Diablo:
DEAD.

Mandrake came after Dane, hands going for him, but Dane swatted at one of Victor’s hands with that aluminum cane, then grabbed Vic by the hair, and dropped off the apron! Mandrake grabbed onto that top rope, the entire set of ringropes bending under Mandrake’s massive weight!

The ref in the ring moved to the apron, hollering at Dane, and gesturing for him to get the fuck out of here, but Dane’s eyes just widened, as he lifted both feet, setting them against the middle ropes, continuing to pull. He was NEVER going to let Victor Mandrake win this fucking event!

AS:
What did Boston just pull out of his boot, a wrench?

A black leather flap, actually, with a reinforced metal chunk in it. With Mandrake almost out, Boston just swung, and cracked Victor right in the back of the head!

Mandrake weebled.

Mandrake wobbled.

Boston ducked, and with a titanic grunt of effort, he grabbed an ankle, and LIFTED...

AS:
YES! YES! ANYBODY BUT MANDRAKE!

Tumble.

ELIMINATED: VICTOR MANDRAKE

DING DING DING

Boston Bancroft fell back, landing on his ass, eyes closed, a blissful smile on his lips. “Peace of Mind” began to play, and uniformly, the arena began to boo.

BULL-SHIT
BULL-SHIT
BULL-SHIT

Slowly, Boston began to rise back to his feet, the referee coming over and grabbing Boston’s arm by the wrist. The ref lifted that arm into the air, as Darren Quimby grabbed his mike up.

“YOUR WINNER... AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW WWA WORLD HEAVYWGHT CHAMPION! BOSTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON! BANCROFT!”

The WWA World Heavyweight Championship was handed up, into the ring, and Boston lifted both hands into the air, grinning. Of course the slapjack was gone. And the refs never, ever saw it.

Boston had been doing this for years, remember?

The belt was buckled around his waist, and Boston let out a long, slow breath, grinning like a madman.

Eric Dane:
BANCROFT, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE AND HELP ME!

Boston snapped back to it, seeing Victor Mandrake trying to crawl back to his feet, blood trickling down his back from the back of his head. He had one hand fisted in Dane’s tights, Dane continually raining down rights and lefts into Mandrake’s face, but the furious seven foot giant wouldn’t be deterred.

Eric Dane would die, painfully, for this indignity.

Boston Bancroft had gotten himself onto the apron, and went flying off, title belt clutched between his hands. Again, Boston cracked Mandrake in that bleeding back of the skull, this time with the WWA World Championship.

Victor wobbled, and Boston came back up, stomping Mandrake in the shoulder over and over, but Mandrake wouldn’t let go of Dane’s tights! Boston sighed, reached into the back of his own ringtights, and pulled that slapjack out again.

CRACK

Dane finally yanked free, as Mandrake dropped onto hands an knees. The Only Star scooped his extraneous aluminum cane up off the floor, and with a golf swing that would make Tiger Woods proud, Dane bent the damn thing around the side of Mandrake’s head.

Victor Mandrake finally fell flat on his face, and stayed there.

Boston Bancroft and Eric Dane climbed up onto the ring apron, and Dane grabbed Boston’s right wrist. Dane lifted Boston’s arm into the air, and both men began to give those patented shit-eating grins.

Double B slowly lifted the WWA World Championship into the air, and as the two-in-a-row winner of Summer Games, Boston let out a long, slow, gleeful breath.

The event was finally, mercifully, over.


=-=-=


[Eric Dane had done it.]

[He’d won.]

[For more than eleven years he’d been bucking at any authority figures that he could raise the ire of. He’d taken chances, he’d bit, scratched, and clawed his way to the top.]

[He was the face of the World Wrestling Alliance.]

[And now it was his.]

Eric Dane:
It’s over.

[Say again?]

Eric Dane:
For so many years I’ve carried this Alliance...

[The Only Star seemed to be surprising himself with his speech. These were not the words of a conquering hero...]

Eric Dane:
I’ve ranted and I’ve raved about my own importance, I’ve lied, cheated, and injured my way across the years, but somewhere in the back of my mind it was always for the betterment and the future of the Alliance...

...it was always about the Alliance.

[He pauses. Eighty-thousand fans sit helplessly in the palm of his hand.]

Eric Dane:
But not anymore. The contracts are legal, they’re binding. I’ve won Summer Games for the final time...

The World Wrestling Alliance is mine...

...to do with as I please...

...to remake in my image.

[He paces, a sure tell that he’s speaking the truth.]

Eric Dane:
And I refuse.

[There is a collective gasp in the arena.]

Eric Dane:
I refuse to be solely responsible for the life and death of the World Wrestling Alliance for another second. This place can rot in tape-trading hell for all I care. For months Defiance talent has consistently put on the best wrestling entertainment television.

[Sneer.]

Eric Dane:
They’ve been the shining example of how this job is supposed to be done, and I’ve been ignoring them, wasting energy on a pathetic war against pathetic competition.

But not anymore.

In the future, Eric Dane concentrates on Defiance...

[Snort.]

Eric Dane:
As of this moment, the World Wrestling Alliance comes to an end.

[Eric gazes around ringside, weighing the reactions of Defiance and Alliance fans alike. After a long, long moment of reminiscing, The Only Star returned the microphone to a ring attendant and left the ring.]

[He spoke to a few fans on the way out of the ringside area, and the camera shot lingered on him for several seconds before the feed is abruptly-]

[Cut.]


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