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Fight Night 5 Results!

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Author Topic: Fight Night 5 Results!  (Read 671 times)
Greenbean
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« on: July 28, 2009, 06:44:37 pm »

Dark Match 1: Mysery vs The Ace Killer

Match Writer: Greenbean


Mysery and Ace circle each other as the bell has already rung. Each man eyes each other from a safe distance. The two finally come forward and meet in the centre of the ring, after jockeying for position Mysery shoves Ace Killer sending him flat on his back, Ace anticipates his landing and rolls backwards firing right up and at Mysery who barely sidesteps the oncoming Ace. Killer hits the ropes, Mysery drops down and Ace hops over him, Killer hits the other side of the ring, Mysery pops up looks over his shoulder and tries to leap frog him but gets caught on the way up. Killer locks his arms around Mysery's waist, Mysery drops down hits the mat and pushes up, as he comes back up he slips his arm up around Ace's neck, when his momentum comes down he drives Ace Killer face first into the mat with a bulldog.

Ace pops to his knees holding his face, Mysery hits the ropes and first off hitting a low missile drop kick to face of Ace. Not wanting to waste time Mysery lifts Ace Killer up, sets him up and hits a crisp snap suplex. The ring shakes a little with the impact and Ace arches up in pain. Wanting to stay on his opponent Mysery stalks Ace, he straddles him and leans down smacking the side of his head, Ace suddenly comes alive and rolls Mysery up into a pinning maneuver...

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Kickout! Mysery kicks out with ease as both men scamper to their feet and Ace quickly wraps his arms around Mysery's waste and hits a belly to back suplex, Mysery lands hard on the back of his neck and doesn’t quickly recover. Ace does however and lifts his opponent up. Hooking his arms under Mysery's and delivers a belly to belly suplex. Getting back up he throws a few quick kicks into the side of Mysery. He then lifts him up and whips him into the corner, Mysery hits hard and sticks in the corner. Ace comes storming in and lifts a knee into the chest of Mysery as he falls forward but Ace doesn’t let him fall he whips him into the opposite turnbuckle, which Mysery hits here with a thud as well as his back to Ace, as Mysery hit the turnbuckle chest first.

Ace is still on Mysery, he lifts him up and sets him on the top turnbuckle and then climbs to the middle rope and ducks his head under Mysery's arm. He sets him up for a belly to back suplex and Ace lifts Mysery up, only he does so a little to fast and Mysery flips right off of Ace Killer and lands on his feet in the ring. Ace glances over his shoulder then leaps backwards turning in mid-air, he’s attempting a cross body-dropkick! As he comes down he’s caught flush in the chin with a dropkick that came out of nowhere, leaving Ace almost out cold as Mysery stumbles back catching himself on the ropes.

Calling for a finish, Mysery now pulls Ace Killer up to his feet and sets him up in position for the Torture Soul!! Up goes Ace Killer...and down he goes!!! Mysery just finished off Ace Killer as he now covers...

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3!


Schumacher: Here is your winner...Mysery!
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« Reply #1 on: July 28, 2009, 06:45:02 pm »

The camera fades in on our most “beloved” General Manager, Green Bean himself, at his desk. There’s a light knocking on his door. [/color]

“Come in.”

He looks up from some paperwork, last minute preparations for Fight Night. Anything to keep his ratings above that punk Luke Hamilton. However, he looks confused as Madison waltzes in with a disc in her hands.

“Good Evening, Green Bean.” She waves at him, but he doesn’t seem impressed, still annoyed at the sudden LoA she took, also annoyed at how abruptly she’s returned.

“…Make it quick, Madison. I’m very busy, and you have a match to prepare for.”

“Hey, Beanie baby. Don’t you worry about my match. I have it covered, though I’m a little shocked you paired me up with some **** who got her ass handed to her by my little sister.”

“Punishment…”

Madison sits down in front of GB’s desk, propping her feet up next to his little nameplate. “I’m the one who does the punishing, boss… You’ll see that in a bit. And, if you want, you can experience it after the show tonight…”

She winks at the general manager, who raises an eyebrow. “…Right. I said make it quick, and I doubt you trying to scare me is the real reason you’re in my office.”

“Oh, right again you are, right you are. This…is why I’m here.” Madison reaches forward and roughly  shoves Green Bean back, so she can take the disc in her hands and push it in to the DVD player.

“Don’t bother asking me how I got it because I won’t tell you, but just watch…”

Quote from: Philli Stadium Security Camera – Parking lot B

The view is from an upper angle, though it’s obvious that the two people on which the camera is focused are the wrestler Scylla and Ace Borger’s manager, Cassandra. Evelyn is trying to get past her younger sister, who’s blocking her from exiting the parking lot and heading in to the back of the arena. They were clearly in a fight when this was recorded.

“Why are you so pissed off!?” The shorter sibling shouts, her voice echoing through the garage.

“They won’t let me get close to Borger… At all the house shows, if I come near the hallway that the men’s locker rooms are housed, security interrogates the crap out of me. If I get too close to him during autograph signings or in the airports, I’m pulled aside and told to behave. Cassandra, you have no idea how badly I want to get back at Ace Borger for what he did to Adam… I want to make him suffer. I hate him almost as much as I hate Madison.”

“You don’t even know Ace! Your love for Adam has always made me nervous, Evey! The man who **** beats his SON!”

“So, now you’re going to agree with all of these falsehoods to make yourself look cleaner and more saintly to Borger…”
 
“There’s truth in all rumors.”

“And there you go again… You heard what Adam had to say and you still don’t believe him. Why, because you’ve had his arch enemy inside you!? Like a filthy ****??”

“Do not call me a ****, Evelyn…” Cassy warned.   “And don’t talk to me about whoring myself out! Just look at you! You’d do anything to make it to the top; I’m shocked you’re probably not blowing Green Bean! I bet you’ve suggested it to him once or twice, so you could get a world title shot! ****, I’m sure you probably pleaded the same thing with Angelus!”

The insult comes as a shock to Evey. For a woman who was drugged and nearly raped not even a month ago, such accusations kill her a little bit inside, especially coming from her baby sister. Furthermore, she does not have a good comeback for it.

“I…I can’t believe you’d say that to me…” She mumbles.

“What? You just called me a ****! And while we’re at it, I can only IMAGINE how close you and Deming are that you’d defend him so blindly! That you’d go so far as to attack Ace and probably get yourself fired just to make him –and yourself – feel better!”

“I won’t attack Borger, Cassandra… That’s reserved for Adam. But I do want to make him feel like **** for what he did…”

“And how are you going to accompli—”

Suddenly, without any warning, Cassy’s on the ground. Her head lulled heavily to the side after her limp body bounced a little on the pavement, leaving her looking like a rag doll. A bit of blood almost instantly seeps from her bottom jaw, her lips slightly parted.

Evelyn stands over her, rubbing the knuckles of her right hand with her left palm. Cassy’s eyes dilate; she’s unconscious.



The camera zooms out from the television, and pans to Green Bean…his eyebrow still raised.

“…Wow.”


“Yes, wow…” Madison doesn’t take the disc back. Now she sets her hands on Bean’s desk and looks at him pleasantly. “That right there is delicious, delicious black mail. I know both my sisters operate. Evelyn probably feels bad about it by now, and Cassy won’t dare say anything to Ace Borger, knowing how he’ll react. He’d kill Evelyn, or at least try. Consider this my little gift to you, Green Bean. It’ll be much easier to control Eve if you have this in your possession. She would not want Borger to see that.”

“Hmm… This could get Cassandra in a bit of trouble too, you know.”

“That’s fine. I don’t really care. My goal is simple. I want Evelyn to suffer… And this is quite a step in the right direction.”

Green Bean tents his fingers, thinking a moment, before he gets a poke in the middle of his chest. He looks up as Madison tugs at his tie.

“Such a cute tie…Looks good on you.”

“Oh…kay?”

“You’re so adorable, Green Bean… My little Beanie baby. I’m glad to be back… I’m glad to be on Showdown so I have you as my GM rather than that lame ass Hamilton. He’s nowhere near as handsome as you…Look at you, I just wanna roll you in butter and add a pinch of salt and—”

Madison jerks forward, snapping at Green Bean. It’s sudden enough that even he jerks back in his seat.

“!!!”

“…And just eat you up.”

With that, the redhead moves off Bean’s desk, and saunters out, leaving the General Manager staring ahead in slight confusion as the camera fades out.
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« Reply #2 on: July 28, 2009, 06:45:31 pm »

Match 1: Madison and Christine Valentine vs Vladimir Dostoevsky and Jamal Alvandi

Match Writer: Greenbean


Madison and Christine both argue over who will be the lady starting this match off, while Vladimir and Jamal are on the same page from the off, it's gonna be Jamal Alvandi and eventually Madison decides to step out of the ring, while Christine is still talking with her, Jamal attacks her and hits her hard on the back, causing her to immediately drop to the floor. Christine tries to get back up but a number of viscious stomps by Jamal, followed up by some strikes with the knee not only keep her grounded, they may have concussed her. Jamal picks Christine up and gets her in a scoop slam position, showing off strength by keeping hold of her and finally dropping her across his knee, a nice backbreaker from Alvandi has Christine on the canvas again. He now lifts Christine, but Valentine is fighting back and starts hitting some heavy rights, she then runs into the ropes and comes back, clotheslining Jamal, but it doesn't knock him off his feet, instead he encourages her to do it again.

Christine hits the ropes again, hitting another clothesline which at least rocks Jamal this time and without wasting a moment, Christine hits the ropes again, believing she can knock Jamal down this time, but Alvandi extends his boot high and just levels Christine with a big boot, knocking her right back to the mat. Jamal now extends his arm and tags Vladimir into this match and immediately Vladimir drops a leg across the chest of Christine, making the cover...

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Kickout! Christine tries to roll over, but Vladimir won't allow it as he picks Christine up and suplexes her back to the mat hard, this tag team are doing a great job in dissecting this young lady. Vladimir now pushes Christine into the turnbuckle corner and starts driving his knee into her stomach time and time again until she eventually drops to the canvas. Vladimir heads up to the top ropes and tries a diving headbutt...but he fails to connect! Christine got out of the way just in time and Vladimir headbutts the mat! The race is on now as Christine begins to crawl towards her corner, looking to tag in Madison who's pumped on the outside. Vladimir tags in Jamal...and Christine tags in Madison! Madison climbs right in and instantly superkicks an oncoming Jamal Alvandi, knocking him down to the mat and now she begins to unload with 4 European Uppercuts in a row on Vladimir, a dropkick then has Vladimir crashing to the outside.

Madison rushes to the ropes, springboards and goes for a Lionsault on Jamal Alvandi, as she does so, Christine tags herself back into this match so Madison's attempted pin won't count, instead Christine attempts a pin...

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Kickout! Madison pulled Christine off of Jamal!! She isn't having the pinfall stolen from her as she climbs out of the ring with Christine still yelling at her. Meanwhile, Vladimir has tagged himself back into this one and then dropkicks Christine in the back, sending her running into Madison and inadvertantly tagging her back in, which the ref acknowledges. Madison is more concerned looking at Christine, who bumped her head nastily on the turnbuckle post and now Vladimir attempts to suplex Madison back into the ring, he throws her over, but Madison lands on her feet! Unprettier!!! Madison covers...

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Schumacher: Here are your winners...Madison and Christine Valentine!

Madison's music plays on the P.A as she struts around the ring, victorious and the only one standing, unconcerned about her partner as she poses for the fans, a triumphant return.
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« Reply #3 on: July 28, 2009, 06:46:05 pm »

Match 2: Mr. Broadway vs Masahide

Match Writer: Anj


Mr. Broadway is currently standing in the ring as his “wonderful” song fades away over the PA system.  “Fire after Fire” comes blaring over the sound system now as Masahide appears from the back.  He walks down the ramp, as the eyes behind his mask are focus solely on Mr. Broadway.

Schumacher:
And his opponent!  Weighing 247 pounds!  From Osaka, Japan!  He is mmmmMMMMASA-HIIIIIIIIDE!

Masa walks down the ramp and slides into the ring, removing his trademark samurai robe.  The ref calls for the bell and the two begin circling one another in the ring...

Hugh:
Well, we get set for another great match up tonight as-Mr. Broadway leading off already!

Broadway steps in at Masa and swings, but Masa ducks and counters with a roundhouse directed right into Broadway’s ribs.  Broadway stumbles back, holding his ribs for a moment before shaking it off.  He gives a smile of confidence, and then comes charging full speed at Masa!  JIEITAI!  Masahide steps to the side and catches Broadway first with an inverted sto and then gets him in a koji clutch!  Broadway has no where to go!  His face turns beat red as he reaches for the ropes which may as well be a hundred miles away!  Masa screams “TAAAAAAP!  TAAAAAP!”

Bobby:
HOLY COW!!!  Masa just connected that out of no where!  This could be one for the books, Huey!

Hugh:
I can not believe how quickly Masa got the submission in!  Broadway has no where to go!

And then, it’s lights out.  Broadway’s body falls limp.  The ref grabs his left wrist and drops it to the mat.  He does so again, and it drops.  He does so a third time-IT DROPS!  He orders the bell and tells Masa to release the hold.  Masa stands up with both arms raised as he gets a mixed reaction from the UWE fans in attendance tonight.

Hugh:
Can you believe how quick Masahide was able to choke Broadway out!?!

Bobby:
I know!  You’d think it would take alot more to choke him out!
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« Reply #4 on: July 28, 2009, 06:46:31 pm »

UWE Tag Team Championships Match
Match 3: Kenji Moori (c) vs The X


Match Writer: Greenbean


The bell sounds and this one is underway between these two superstars. The two come into the middle of the ring and The X is talking trash to Kenji, who just stands listening to The X, until Kenji just slaps The X hard, right across the face, slapping the taste outta his mouth almost. The X's head snaps with the slap, as he slowly turns his face back to look at Kenji, a smile on his face, a smile which quickly turns to anger and he hooks both legs of Kenji and takes him down with a double leg, just hammering away at Moori with a flurry of mounted punches, showing no sign of pulling up it's down to the official to get The X up as X risks disqualification. As much as he didn't want to, The X listens to the referee and gets off Kenji, coming back up to his feet and Moori checks his lip for blood, there isn't any so he carefully gets back to his feet, keeping an eye on The X but The X again comes running at Kenji and before he can react, X knocks him down hard with a stiff clothesline, this time Kenji remains on the floor but crawl into the corner, giving him a chance to get up as the ref prevents X to continue his attack, much to the dismay of the fans, who boo the official, although rules are rules.

The second Kenji is up, X comes walking with a purpose towards him, but he can't get any offence in as the ref gets himself inbetween the two of them, Kenji is still at the ropes and whilst The X is persistant in getting to him, Kenji simply sticks a thumb in his eye, with the ref concerntrating on backing The X up he didn't see it and now Kenji assumes control as he drops The X with a hard right hand, allowing himself time to come out of the corner. He throws a couple stomps the way of The X, simply just to keep him grounded and then hits the ropes, coming back and hitting a fist drop, finding the mark on X, catching him right in the face as The X rolls over in pain, holding his face.


Moroso: Y'know this Kenji is smart, talented and athletic. On his day, he can beat anyone.

Reynolds: Don't discount The X's will to win though Bobby, this is a guy who gives his all day in day out.

Kenji now stands primed and ready to attack The X when he gets up and comes at him, swinging a big clothesline towards him which The X ducks, then X attempts his own clothesline which Kenji ducks now and then he just clocks The X with a hugh Roundhouse Kick, The X immediately falls face first into the mat and believing he could have this one won right here, Kenji covers X...

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Kickout! Kenji quickly spins over The X, giving him no time to breathe as he applies a front neck lock on his foe, trying to squeeze the life out of him and weaken his opponent. The X really has been slowed down here and although there's no chance of him tapping out to this hold, it's certainly painful and quite frankly a move he'd rather not be in as the fans begin to do their part in order to get him to his feet, they clap, they cheer, they stomp their feet, anything they can to get X back up and it looks to be working as the arms of X seem to come back to life, shaking furiously as he gets a second wind, much to the dismay of Kenji, who shows some panic in his face. Powerless to resist The X getting up, Kenji decides to just maintain the hold, hoping this flurry will soon pass, although it doesn't as The X is now up to his feet and hitting Kenji with hard shots to the stomach, each of which taking it's toll on the Tag Champ until finally the hold is broken. With a wave of new found momentum and the fans going nuts, The X hits the ropes as he tries getting back into this one, he comes back at Kenji-spinning heel kick from Kenji! That slowed The X right down in his tracks and although X won't stay down from that move, he plays into Kenji's hands as Moori sets him up for a Fisherman Suplex, turning it into a Fisherman Suplex DDT move, possibly snapping the neck of X as the fans gasp, The X remains still and Kenji covers...

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Kickout! Again The X is showing great courage in kicking out, but he's in no fit state to punish Kenji at all. Venturing up to the top ropes, Kenji is thinking Shooting Star Press and judging by The X's lack of movement, it appears as though he's gonna hit it as Kenji leaps up into the skies, Shooting Star Press-No! The X moved at the vital moment and Kenji crashed, stomach first into the mat as both men stay down. It's obvious who the crowd want to get up first as the ref begins his count to ten. He makes it to 7 before both men are up and this match continues as Kenji comes at The X, swinging a right at him only for The X to block and hit Kenji with a right of his own which just staggers Kenji until Kenji comes back at The X with another right handed attempt which is again blocked by The X, who connects with another right hand which this time renders Kenji unable to counter and X now starts unloading with right after right of his own, he's damn sure fighting his way back into this thing and Irish whips Kenji into the ropes, as Kenji returns, The X hits a nice powerslam as he slowly builds momentum. Kenji is up quickly but tastes a clothesline that knocks him back down albeit for a second or two but as Kenji gets back up again, he's dropped once more by a standing dropkick from The X, who now seeks the fans approval and they roar for X, getting behind the guy. Kenji now tries getting up again, only for The X to set him up for his own Fisherman Suplex, this one connects too and X keeps hold of the move, like a Perfect-Plex and the ref begins to count...

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Kickout! Now it's Kenji's turn to show some resolve as he kicks out of a long two count. This doesn't distract X, who sets Kenji up for X Marks The Spot!! He has Kenji in a reverse DDT position..but Kenji throws his leg over the top of his own head, booting The X in his to stop X hitting his finisher, which would more than likely end the match. Kenji manages to fight out of that predicament, but drops to one knee as The X comes walking towards him again, hoping to-8/6/2035!!! Kenji just PLANTED The X with his finishing move and manages to drop onto The X while the ref counts, the crowd are in shock at the suddeness of that move...

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3!


Schumacher: Here is your winner...Kenji Moori!

Both men are down on the mat but it's Kenji the one victorious as he gingerly gets up to his feet, holding the back of his neck but the taste of victory is enough to numb the pain for now. The X put up a hell of a fight but came up just short as he's still on his back, looking up at the lights. Kenji holds the Tag Titles up high before vacating the ring.
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« Reply #5 on: July 28, 2009, 06:46:53 pm »

Match 4: Evelyn LaRivierre vs E.E. Faulk

Match Writer: Greenbean


The lights flicker frantically before going completely out. It is silent for a moment, until words echo throughout the arena:

"SINNERS....They're all sinners....they're all going to the painful, everlasting, FIREY HELL."

"Wicked Garden" by STP blasts through the speakers, and a shower of sparks fly from underneath the Tron as Scylla walks into view. She's alone tonight, no Kevin by her side.[/i]

Schumacher: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from New Orleans, weighing in at one hundred and sixty pounds...Evelyn LaRivierre!

She makes her way down the ramp, staring intently at ring. The redhead doesn't bother using the stairs; she climbs underneath the bottom rope and then onto the mat as she stands in the center of the ring, arms folded, waiting.

A lit fuse appears on the Titantron, with its hiss being the only sound in the arena. The fuse runs out at the bottom of the screen and BOOM! The stage erupts with fiery, explosive pyro.

Schumacher: And here opponent, from New York City, weighing in at one hundred and sixty five pounds...E.E. Faulk!

Through the smoke arrives E. E. Faulk, as the song "Path" by Apocalyptica plays him to the ring.

With conflicting emotions, Faulk doesn't really seem struck on starting this match as he walks up to Evelyn, speaking to her but Scylla just responds by hitting him with one viscious forearm, which immediately has Faulk rocking and a relentless Scylla hits him with 3 more hard shots, which has Faulk stumbling back into the corner. Faulk quickly tries getting out of the corner, but another shot just as hard from Scylla sends him back into it and now Evelyn starts stomping away at Faulk, not giving him a moments rest bite, realising the best chance to win this match is to keep on Faulk, Evelyn just keeps kicking away. She didn't want this fight either, but it's happening and she's never gonna back down from a challenge, which is evident as she again switches to more of these forearm shots, Faulk just can't seem to get out of the corner at the moment here.

The ref is telling Evelyn to back up, but she's not listening, she's in the zone and now continues her assault with European Uppercuts, four of them to be precise, all of which find the mark perfectly. Taking one step backwards, Evelyn now steps back at Faulk, just hitting one hellacious, closed-fisted right hand on Faulk which drops him down to one knee now in the corner. Showing an agrresive streak that would match anyone in UWE, Scylla continues to attack Faulk with stomps that Steve Austin would be proud of, creating her own mudhole as Faulk slumps further and further to the mat. Graciously, she lets Faulk back to his feet, but this is only to Irish whip the guy into the opposite turnbuckle, showing great strength for one her size. Evelyn now comes running at Faulk, but 'Double E' finally decides to fight back as he shuffles his feet and hits Scylla with a back elbow, which caught Evey good and dropped her to the floor, holding her jaw. Taking a couple of breathes to calm himself down after Scylla's onslaught, Faulk turns to see Scylla getting back up and hits her with a European Uppercut of her own, a taste of her own medicine here. In a rare match for Faulk, he's facing someone he's able to lift quite capably and executes a suplex on Scylla, but Scylla is able to turn in mid-air and land on her feet, she spins Faulk around, kicks him in the gut and plants him with a DDT, driving him face first into the mat and immediately rushes in for the cover...

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Kickout! Faulk pushes Evelyn up and rolls onto his side, preventing another pinning opportunity. With a huff, Scylla is back to her feet, but Faulk doesn't spend much time on the ground either as he gets himself back up, only to receive another forearm shot to the nose from Scylla, again sending him back into the turnbuckle which keeps him on his feet. Scylla hits him with another hard shot, it's a wonder Faulk's nose isn't busted the amount of punishment it's taken so far in this one. Faulk must think it's Christmas come early when Scylla stops hitting him in the nose, only to realise it's because now she's chopping him in the chest hard, three shots and each of which echo throughout the arena, with the audience mimicking the legendary nature boy with each shot.


Moroso: Dayum! Look at Faulk getting owned off a girl!

Reynolds: That 'girl' beat 29 superstars to win the Rumble and will headline Wrestlemania. Something tells me if she heard you saying that, you'd be the one getting 'owned' by her.

Faulk now comes staggering out of the corner, holding the top rope and Scylla hits him with a clubbing blow, hard to the back of his neck, making him drop down to one knee and one more clubbing shot is followed up by Scylla Irish whipping Faulk into the ropes. As Faulk returns, Evelyn goes for a clothesline, which is ducked by Faulk, Scylla turns around quickly-Yakuza Kick by Faulk! The former World Champion just turned this match into his favour with the first high impact move of the match, knocking Scylla down he may have knocked some of her teeth out too!

Holding her mouth, Evelyn shakes her head, trying to regain her senses but a determined E.E. Faulk is persistant now, he pulls her back to her feet and bounces her head off the turnbuckle pad, keeping her in the corner as he prepares to dish out some punishment of his own. In the corner, Faulk hits a few stomps, followed by chops of his own and now Scylla flops onto her ass in the corner as Faulk now backs up. Sore, but still wanting to fight, Scylla uses the ropes to pull herself back up to her feet as Faulk approaches, ready to inflict some more damage. Now as he comes back, he takes a little too long and a kick to the stomach from Scylla buys herself a little more time, Faulk now goes for the head of Scylla, but before he can get her she kicks him in the stomach again, one more kick sees Scylla with a chance of fighting her way out of the corner until Faulk shows his intelligence and drives his knee into her stomach, slowing her down again as he pulls Scylla into the middle of the ring. Faulk Irish whips her and as Scylla returns, he goes for a clothesline, which is ducked and now Scylla is building momentum as she hits the opposite ropes, she returns...only to get taken back down with a flying knee from Faulk, hitting her exactly where he intended too.

Faulk attempts as pinfall now as he hopes to win the match...

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Kickout! You don't beat a Royal Rumble winner like that, Faulk should know as he gets right back up to his feet, pulling Scylla up by the head. Another knife-edge chop from Faulk has Scylla rocking as he sees her near the ropes Faulk comes running, looking to clothesline her over...only for Scylla to wisely lower her head and send Faulk over, crashing to the outside. Evelyn drops to a knee though and isn't able to capitalise on this opportunity as Faulk slowly, but surely, gets back to his feet and climbs onto the ring apron again. This time he goes a little more high risk by springboarding off the ropes towards Scylla: but Evelyn rises to her feet in time and counters it into a ring shaking spinebuster, even for two wrestlers as light as these! Scylla thinks she has it now as she hooks the leg of Faulk...

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Kickout! Evelyn rolls her eyes, she half expected a win there as did quite a few people here, but she didn't get it and the fight continues. Evelyn brings Faulk up to his feet, attempting to Irish whip him, but Faulk spins under the arm of Scylla, kicking her in the stomach and DDT'ing her, unlike Scylla though, Faulk doesn't let go as he keeps the arm hooked around the neck of Evelyn, dragging her back to her feet, hoping to go for the second of three, the repercussion. Faulk goes to drop her again, but before he can Scylla shows great strength in picking him up off his feet and charging towards the turnbuckle with him, back first and freeing up her neck. She now lifts him again and sits Faulk on the top turnbuckle, looking for some high risk type move, possibly even her finishing move the Atonement as she climbs to the second rope...but Faulk pushes her off and Scylla lands hard on her back! Taking his time, Faulk gets back down from the ropes, he grabs Scylla, pulls her in, E2Kutter-No! Scylla spins out of it and rolls up Faulk, she grabs the tights too as the ref counts...

1...
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3!


Schumacher: Here is your winner...Evelyn LaRivierre!

Rolling quickly out of the ring, Scylla is victorious over a clearly unhappy Faulk. She didn't want it to end like that, but in her mind she had no choice as she tries explaining to an irate Faulk from a distance, but 'Double E' is more concerned with questioning the officials judgement here as UWE heads to a promo tape for tonight's main event, with Scylla the winner tonight.
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« Reply #6 on: July 28, 2009, 06:47:19 pm »

Last Man Standing Match
Match 5: Adam Deming vs Ace Borger


Match Writer: Deming


All right, it's mega-late, but I think it's pretty **** epic, and worthy of both my retirement, and in putting Ace over as the guy that actually brought that about.  I hope you like it... a couple of almost sleepless nights and the total ignoring of anyone online had to come about to make it all possible.  Enjoy.



Hugh: “And here we are, ladies and gentlemen… this next match may be just as highly anticipated as the main event: the Last Man Standing match between former best friends turned bitter enemies Ace Borger and Adam Deming!”

Bobby: “Ooooo, I just can’t wait to see that self-righteous Borger get what’s finally coming to him!”

Hugh: “Wait, Borger self-righteous?  Deming’s been the one who came to UWE with the intent on totally changing the way the sport is presented, and cutting down anyone who didn’t believe in his ideals.  Borger was brought in to keep him in check.”

Bobby: “Well sure, that’s the ‘official’ story, the one everyone has been fed.  What nobody seems to get, though, is that without Deming’s presence here, Borger would be out of a job and his kid would be eating tuna and rice every night, if that, because Daddy didn’t have the desire to get off his ass and get a job!  Borger should be thanking Deming for reawakening his desire to wrestle, not tie him to the walls of a steel cage crucifix-style and bash his head in with a steel chair!”

Hugh: “Yes, if you remember last week’s edition of Showdown, folks, you’ll remember that transpiring as a result of Deming taping Borger’s son Corbin at play in a successful attempt to lure Borger into an ambush completely off-guard.  And while Deming claims he did it only to assess whether Borger’s priorities truly were in the right place, his former best friend didn’t take that as comforting at all.”

Bobby: “Yeah, like I said, he tied him up all defenseless-like and broke – that’s right, I said ‘broke’ – a steel chair over Deming’s head!”

Hugh: “You don’t mess with a man’s family, Bobby.  You just don’t.”

Bobby: “What about Deming, then, huh?  He revealed the only reason that he wanted to check on Borger’s priorities is because he felt he was taking his son for granted… something Deming couldn’t abide seeing after his own son was taken away from him unjustly after being spied upon by a neighbor who didn’t know what he really saw.”

Hugh: “Yes, well he also claimed that it was the UWE fans who essentially allowed for that to happen, regardless of their total innocence, not to mention ignorance of the events in question.”

Bobby: “Well, Huey, I can’t expect you to understand the pressures of celebrity.  People don’t hound you everywhere you go, wanting to know all the little sordid details of your life for their own amusement since they have nothing more interesting to consume their time in their own lives.  I, on the other hand—”

Hugh: “You?  A celebrity?”

Bobby: “Damn straight.  It’s a blessing and a curse being this sexy, Huey… consider yourself lucky.”

Hugh: “Yeah… right… I’ll be sure to include that the next time I say grace with my family before dinner.  In any case, let’s go to the ring for the official ring announcements.

Schumacher: “Ladies and gentlemen, this next bout is set for one fall, and is a Last Man Standing match!  The winner of this match is the man whose opponent cannot get to his feet by the referee’s count of ten.  Introducing first…”

The lights go dark, and the giant screen shows a crawling shot of “Deadeye” Adam Deming’s body (viewed from the back), panning from his feet all the way up to head as the opening chord of his theme music fades in.  The shot shows Deming turning his head – a serious look on his sun-spectacled face – quickly on the guitar chord that breaks through the fade-in, serving as the launching pad for the major riff of Broken Glow’s “Dogs and Demons.”  As said riff kicks in, the man’s name (nickname and all) flashes across the screen in dark blue lettering in front of a red target symbol as the background strobes between black and white quickly. The first verse starts up and pyros placed in a target formation in front of the screen explode as the man himself, “Deadeye” Adam Deming, steps out onto the stage, wearing a towel around his neck.

Schumacher: “Hailing from Buffalo, New York… standing six-foot-two and weighing in at two hundred forty-five pounds… he is the ‘Preeminence of Precision’… he is the self-proclaimed ‘Most Valuable Playa of Professional Wrestling’… he is the man who always hits his mark… he is a seven-time former World Heavyweight Champion… this is ‘Deadeye’ Adam Deming!”

The screen shows shots of Deming hitting opponents with his finishing moves, as the crowd boos mightily for the “Deadeye.” He takes a moment on the stage to look out into the throngs of people assembled here tonight, sneering in contempt, before marching down the ramp to the beat of his music. He slides underneath the bottom rope and heads to the nearest set of turnbuckles, timing it so that he raises his interlocked hands into the air right as the chorus of the song sounds in the ears of everyone in the arena. He jumps off and runs to the opposite corner, raising his hands again to the insistent displeasure of the crowd before jumping out of the corner to get in some last-minute stretching.

Hugh: “Deming released a video to the Internet addressing his opponent tonight, and to say that he was not looking well might be the understatement of the year.  Unshaven, hair going every which way, huge circles under his eyes, apparently reeking by his own admission…”

Bobby: “Yeah, but that was a few days ago, though.  Look at him now, he’s all polished up and ready to go… it looks like someone’s about to go down tonight!”

Hugh: “The appearance wasn’t what concerned me, though… I don’t know if it was because of whoever edited that video or whatever, but he just seemed… I don’t know, I guess ‘lost’ is the right word for it.  Like he was drifting in and out of his thoughts.”

Bobby: “That was his stupid editor’s fault.  He’s not a tech-savvy guy, ya know… he was probably taken advantage of by some poor techie with a personal bias against him.  Maybe that’s why he looks extra pissed right now.”

Schumacher: “And his opponent…”

The opening lines of “Like Light To Flies” by Trivium sound over the PA and the crowd immediately begins to whip up a huge hometown hero’s welcome for the man the song heralds.  As the drums hit and the song goes into full swing, a blast hits the stage and leaves a wall of smoke so think you can’t see through it.  As the smoke clears, we see Ace Borger standing atop the rampway in his ring attire; his black shorts and black boots shine and reflect the light across his back, and his sleeveless hoodie hangs loosely on his large frame, the hood hanging down over the upper half of his face.

Schumacher: “Standing six-foot-three and weighing in at two hundred fifty pounds… himself a multiple-time World Heavyweight Champion… this is Ace ‘The Sniper’ Borger!”

Borger moves toward the ramp amidst the crowd reaction, now more raucous than ever, and hops up onto the ring apron.  He whips the hood off of his head and smiles, soaking in the adoration of his hometown crowd.  He excitedly points to his own chest and then to the fans in attendance, assuring them that they won’t be disappointed by his performance tonight.

Hugh: “He looks intense out there.”

Bobby: “Well I don’t blame him.  Knowing you’re going to have your ass handed to you by the best in the business to finally put to rest the rivalry you’ve been clinging to in order to validate your existence for the past four years has got to weigh heavy on your mind.”

Hugh: “Oh come on, Bobby… he came out earlier today and assured everyone that he was going to end this thing tonight; confidence isn’t something you often see drained away from Ace Borger.  Hell, he even brought his closest friends, his girlfriend and his son to the arena tonight to cheer him on.  They’re in that box right up there in the back of the arena, far away from the… let’s say ‘more dangerous’ elements UWE has to offer.”

Bobby: “The only thing that proves is how unbelievably naïve Ace Borger is.  The fact that those people are up there puts them in more danger than if they were to watch the show at home via pay-per-view.  I don’t care if those guys are United States servicemen – God bless ’em – they’re only fooling themselves if they think they’re helping keep Cassandra and Corbin safe from Adam Deming, especially since the ‘Deadeye’ said that he would never harm a child, despite anyone’s opinion to the contrary.”

Deming and Borger stare at each other from opposite corners of the ring as Borger’s music dies down.  The fans inch towards their seats’ edges in anticipation as Borger stretches his neck and Deming cracks his knuckles.  The referee admonishes them to come to the center of the ring, and they oblige, walking towards each other slowly, going nose-to-nose as they ignore the man in the striped shirt re-explaining the rules to them.  Snorting like rival bulls, everything has been leading up to this, and both men seem to block out everything but each other’s faces, a shared leer that continues even after the bell sounds.  The frantic, bloodthirsty, escalating cheers of the crowd have no effect on these two, the hatred they feel for each other fueling them plenty on its own.

Bobby: “Well, are they just going to stare at each other all night, or are they gonna mix it up?  Do they need a room or something?”

Hugh: “This match is so important to both of them… I think neither one of them wants to make a mistake; they want the other to make the first move.”

After several intense seconds that seem to take hours, Deming takes one step backward… only for it to be a fake-out, as it serves only as a wind-up for a wicked open-handed slap across the face of “The Sniper!”  Borger’s body rolls with the blow, remaining in the spot the blow’s momentum carried him to, smiling.  Turning back to face the defiant, condescending “Deadeye,” he chuckles and nods before unleashing a slap of his own… one that forces Deming into a 360o spin that forces Deming to seek support from the top rope.  Seething as he rubs his reddened cheek, Deming reaches back and swings for the fences, but Borger had prepared for this, ducks under it and nails the “Deadeye” with a right hand of his own.  Several more rapid-fire shots, and Deming is once again backed up into the ropes.  Whipped off of them, he’s hit with a dropkick right in the mouth on the rebound.  Not waiting for his hated rival to get to his feet on his own, he grabs Deming by the hair and throws him violently into the nearest corner.  Deming covers up, trying to block the hailstorm of forearm shots pelting him.  Eventually, the referee tries to separate the two, but Borger simply throws him aside.

Bobby: “Hey, he can’t do that to the referee!”

Hugh: “Well, he shouldn’t, but technically, he can without repercussions… this is a no-disqualification affair; anything goes until someone can no longer stand.”

That slight distraction with the zebra, though, gives Deming enough room to pull the re-advancing Borger by the tights, sending his face crashing into the second turnbuckle.  Borger’s body goes concave as Deming follows that up with a seated senton onto his back, nearly breaking him in half.  Borger screams in agony as Deming takes a short breather, wiping his lip to make sure it’s not bleeding – it’s not – before following up.  This time it’s Borger’s turn to be thrown by his hair, as Deming biels him out of the corner, showing surprising strength for a man his size.  Borger rolls over to the ropes, but Deming doesn’t allow him to escape the confines of the ring, stepping on his face with both feet as he holds onto the top rope for balance.

Bobby: “That’s it, Adam!  Crush that pretty-boy face of his!”

Borger manages to escape the torture of 245 pounds of force pushing down on his face and rolls to the center of the ring.  Deming drops an elbow on his former tag team partner, who again attempt to take an outside respite, only for Deming to again grab him by his hair and drag him back in the ring.  “Oh no!” he taunts loudly.  “I’m going to beat you in this ring, where everyone can see it!”  He drops a leg across Borger’s throat before… curiously enough, going to the outside.

Hugh: “Didn’t he just say he wanted to keep it in the ring?”

Bobby: “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to take advantage of the lack of rules in this match, Huey!  Look at what he’s got with him!”

Hugh: “Wait… what is that?  Is that the cane that he used the week after Borger broke his nose?”

Bobby: “Yeah, that’s the same handle, all right!  Poetic justice, Huey!  Get into it!”

Deming slinks back into the ring just as Borger starts to get to his knees, sneaking up behind him and choking him with the cane.  Borger struggles as his face quickly starts changing more colors than Violet Beauregarde leading up to her blueberry obesity issue.  It’s not easy with Deming on his back pulling with all his might, but Borger manages to make it to the ropes after several agonizing moments, expecting the referee to break it up.  He tries to, but Deming completely brushes him off.  “I’d like to see you do something about it,” is his challenge to the official, who recognizes it as valid, albeit reluctantly.  Realizing that the official can’t help him out, Borger desperately hurls himself through the ropes; he takes another hard shot to the throat with the cane as a result, but at least Deming catches his own throat on the top rope as a result, freeing Borger from the choke that could ultimately have cost him the match.

“The Sniper,” very cognizant of the importance of his bipedal position, makes sure to get to his feet quickly, using the barricade to do so.  Deming, however, stunned by the shot to his throat, writhes on the mat, prompting the referee to start his ten-count.  He gets up to “four” before Borger slides into the ring and begins furiously stomping on any part of Deming’s anatomy available to him, breaking up the count.  When asked what he was doing by the referee, Borger snaps back, “I’m nowhere near done with him yet!”

Hugh: “Looks like Deming is in for a long night, Bobby!”

Bobby: “Yeah, well the longer this match goes, the more it favors the ‘Deadeye,’ Huey.  I don’t see that as a problem at all.”

Hugh: “At what point did you all of a sudden become such an avid fan of Adam Deming?”

Bobby: “At the same point this redneck bozo Borger showed up here.  It’s like that T-shirt, you know?  ‘I have two favorite teams: the [home team] and whoever’s playing the [home team’s main rival].’”

Borger picks up the cane from the edge of the apron and looks at it, the silver eagle’s head on the handle shining under the bright production lights.  He sets up like a Major League designated hitter as Deming manages to crawl to his feet, and as he turns around to face him, Borger swings, cracking him square in the face with the metal handle, much to the delight of the crowd!  Deming is now bleeding from his brow, right above the bridge of his nose as he rolls over to the nearest corner.  He’s afforded little rest from Borger, though, who dropkicks him square in his face, further opening up the fresh wound.  Deming goes half-limp, and Borger smiles at his vulnerability.  Taking the cane, he holds it up, making it hover over his shoulder.  Smiling at the crowd, he backs up to the opposite corner before charging, stopping mid-ring to hurl the cane like a javelin right where he was aiming: Deming’s genitals.  Deming’s eyes bug wide as he crumples in an emasculated heap in the corner amidst a tsunami of cheers.

Bobby: “That’s just inhumane!  First the chair that for all we know may have given Deming a serious concussion, and now the total annihilation of the ‘Deadeye’s’ family jewels?!  This man has to be stopped!”

Hugh: “Well I can’t say I don’t feel for Deming right now… who wants to get speared in the testicles?”

Bobby: “… Come to think of it, I think I know a guy who actually might enjoy—”

Hugh: “I’m cutting you off right now.  There’s no reason to entertain the rest of that thought.”

Deming is dragged off the ground, though still curled up in a standing fetal position from the shot to the balls.  This is perfect for Borger, who uses his opponent’s bent position to easily transition him into a piledriver, spiking Deming’s bleeding head into the canvas.  Deming lays there motionless, and Borger nods to the referee, wiping the sweat from his brow.

One!

Two!

Bobby: “Look at him, though, he’s starting to get up already.  You’re not going to keep this man down for long… not with so much pride on the line!”

Three!

Four!

Hugh: “That may be true, but I don’t know if Deming can withstand this kind of continued assault for too long, though.  He’s not exactly got a lot of momentum on his side at the moment.”

Five!

Six!

That’s as far as he gets, but Borger doesn’t seem to mind.  A chance to further punish the man who stalked his son in order to get under your skin?  Yes, please.  Borger picks Deming up from behind, drilling him into the canvas with a high-angle belly-to-back suplex.  The force of the slam sends Deming hurtling out of the ring, where his progress is only stopped when his back hits the barricade.  The referee starts counting again, but doesn’t even get to “three” before Deming – with the aid of the barricade – gets to his feet.  What he doesn’t see coming, though, is Ace Borger, perched on the top turnbuckle, and is once again surprised to turn around into “The Sniper,” this time executing one of the highest cross-body blocks ever seen, flattening him against the concrete floor.  As with any high-risk move, though, the user accepts some punishment; Borger knocks the wind out of himself while executing the move, and is just as motionless as the recipient of the maneuver.

One!

Two!

Three!

Hugh: “Borger is stirring, but he’s breathing heavily.”

Bobby: “You see?  I told you, the longer this match goes, the longer it favors Deming and his superior stamina.”

Four!

Five!

Hugh: “Deming still isn’t in any position to brag about dominating the match, Bobby.  This one could be over soon at this rate.”

Borger is once again in a standing position, and grabs Deming by the arm.  He looks to whip him into the ring post, but the desperate Deming reverses the momentum.  Borger manages to stop himself just short of the post, but a spinning heel kick to the back of his head sends him careening into the steel anyway.  Borger goes down, holding his left arm and grimacing in pain as Deming steadies himself against the ring apron.  Borger sits back, propping himself up against the steel ring steps, but that only acts as a target for the “Deadeye,” who hauls back and nails Borger with a swift kick, crushing the hurt arm against the steps.

Bobby: “You see, Huey?  I told you… the ‘Deadeye’ thrives on these long matches.  He waits for his opponent to tire himself out, then goes to work.”

Borger jumps to his feet in an attempt to walk off the pain or escape Deming’s wrath – it’s unsure which one it is; possibly both? – but Deming is relentless, sneaking up behind him and nailing him with a forearm to the back of the head to set him up, before grabbing his arm, placing his foot underneath his armpit, and falling backwards, stunning the shoulder joint and sending shockwaves up and down the injured arm.

Hugh: “Innovative offense there by Deming.”

Bobby: “He knows better than anyone that when you’re in there with a crazy bastard like Ace Borger, you have to get a little creative.  You have to throw stuff at him he hasn’t seen before.  It’s one of the only ways to rattle him.”

Hugh: “Are you… actually giving props to Ace Borger?”

Bobby: “Absolutely not.  Let’s just put this into perspective, though… the first time he’d ever used the Vapor Trail was against Ace Borger, and he picked up the win with it.  And at that point, they were still friends.”

Deming smirks evilly as the crowd rains down the boos.  As with both of them previously all throughout the match, these catcalls go largely ignored, his total focus remaining on his opponent.  Throwing Borger back into the ring, Borger manages to get to his knees, cringing as he clutches his throbbing appendage.  Deming slithers back into the ring, setting up the perfect moment to strike.  As Borger pushes himself to his feet, Deming spins him around, kicks him in the gut, and sends him plummeting to the mat with an armbar takedown.  Borger spasms in pain and Deming smiles once more.

Hugh: “Deming looks like he’s enjoying himself now more than he has the entire time he’s been here in UWE.  Funny that this elitist prick who’s done nothing but preach the values of ‘pure wrestling’ for months is getting his kicks from this **** environment.”

Bobby: “You heard him a several weeks ago, Huey… he’s all about the equity and justice in the ring in normal competition… but when it gets personal like this, he has no reason to hold back.  Once he loses that kind of respect for you, all bets are off.”

Hugh: “I don’t know, I think he’s trying to fool himself of his true nature… remember, he also said last week to E.E. Faulk that he used to break people who crossed him in half… ‘literally.’”

Bobby: “It’s true, too.  Just ask Manny Sanchez.”

Hugh: “Who?”

Bobby: “I don’t know… I think he’s a friend of Kenji Moori’s…”

The referee looks like he’s going to count again, but Deming waves a finger at him.  Creeping up behind the cringing Borger, he waits for him to roll onto his stomach before pouncing on him, grabbing his bad arm and twisting it backwards into a painful reverse ude-garami hold.  Borger screams in anguish as Deming bends his arm around and behind him, all while bridging his own back to push Borger’s face into the canvas, grinding up his face and prohibiting him from moving laterally.

Hugh: “A kimura?  Where the Hell did he pick that up?”

Bobby: “I told you, when you’re facing a guy like Borger – especially when he knows you so well – you gotta get creative.  He’s probably been expanding his repertoire for just this occasion, I love it!”

Hugh: “There are no submissions in this match, so even if Borger taps, it won’t garner Deming a win, but it may just wear him down to the point where he’s in too much pain to continue.”

Whether it’s the fact that he recognizes Hugh’s sentiments as truth or the fact that he’s got too much pride to do so, the fact remains that Borger doesn’t tap out.  After several long moments in the hold, however, he manages to grab a hold of the bottom rope, using it to get enough leverage to roll himself forward, throwing Deming off in the process.  Deming, furious, starts to go after Borger, but stops his kick mid-swing.  Smirking as he sees the supine “Sniper,” he walks away, choosing to recline against the top rope and let the referee do his job.

One!

Two!

Three!

Bobby: “The damage is done!  There’s no way that Borger can withstand this much pain and have the strength to make it to his feet!”

Four!

Five!

Hugh: “I don’t know if I can disagree with you, as much as I hate to admit it, Bobby.  He was in that excruciating hold for a full minute.  And I know that doesn’t seem like a long time, loyal viewers, but when you’re actually in] the hold, it’s a totally different story.  Point being: I think this might be the end for Ace Borger in this match.”

Six!

Seven!

Being near the ropes has its advantages, though.  Deming may not have thought it would make a difference, but it does.  Borger grabs a hold of the bottom rope with his still-healthy right arm…

Eight!

… and with great effort hoists himself up one more rung, grabbing the center rope with the same arm, as he cradles his hurt left one.  He cuts it close…

Nine!

… but makes it to his feet before the referee can get to “ten.”  Surprisingly, Deming claps – albeit condescendingly – at his opponent’s moral victory.  His mocking quickly gives way to more offense, however, as he comes rushing with running forearm shot that makes Borger spill out to the floor.  Deming follows him outside and waits for him to get up before delivering a vicious double-knee strike to the back that sends him face-first into the guardrail.  This time, it’s Borger who’s busted open, and apparently a little punch-drunk as well, as he manages to make it to his feet, but swings wildly into the air.  Deming points and laughs mockingly, following him casually as he circles around the ring, chasing phantom enemies.  Eventually, he rolls back into the ring, almost taking the referee’s head off with a clothesline.  Deming, having enough of this fun, calls for the end, and grabs Borger’s shoulder.  Borger, however, spins on contact, nailing Deming in the face with a brutal spinning elbow strike that completely flattens Deming.  Borger, suddenly lucid, reaches into his elbow pad and pulls out a metal plate, much to the crowd’s collective delight.

Bobby: “HOLY… what happened?!”

Hugh: “Look at that grin!  He was playing possum that whole time!  He set Deming up for that shot with his loaded elbow pad!”

Bobby: “That sneaky little… he cheated, Huey!”

Hugh: “No disqualifications, Bobby.”

Bobby: “But… but… it’s still not fair…”

Deming’s wound had all but completely closed up, but the strike with the metal plate re-opens the cut above the bridge of his nose, wider than before.  Blood flows freely from the laceration, creating small puddles next to Deming’s face as it lays in stillness on the canvas.  He’s not unconscious yet, but it’s clear that while Borger’s hazy state was a red herring, Deming’s is the real thing.  His eyes glass over as he tries to roll onto his stomach, but as soon as he gets on his hands and knees, Borger mounts his back and digs his fingernails into the wound.  Deming’s certainly awake now, and screams in agony as his opponent’s fingers dig into his flesh.

Bobby: “That’s absolutely disgusting!  How can you root for this man, Huey?  He’s a damn animal!”

Hugh: “Well I honestly can’t say I approve of the savage nature of the attack… but these fans sure seem to love what they must see as Deming getting his just desserts.”

Bobby: “Yeah, well I just hope that our fans watching at home are smarter, more compassionate and have a higher moral character than these idiots in attendance tonight.”

Borger follows up the gruesome flesh-digging with brutal crossface shots before letting him drop to the mat.  Deming grabs the nearby bottom rope and hauls himself up clumsily, only to get clotheslined over the top rope to the floor by his nemesis, yelling after him, “Get the **** outta here!” before motioning to the referee to start his count again.

One!

Two!

Three!

Hugh: “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the salty language by Ace Borger.  Sometimes, when extreme emotions get involved, things tend to—”

Four!

Bobby: “Don’t apologize to the people, Huey!  This is pay-per-view!  We don’t have to follow the restrictions of basic cable here.  You should embrace the freedom.”

Five!

Hugh: “It may be pay-per-view, but I’d rather this show be conducted with a little more dignity and class than our Friday Night counterpart.  The sleaze on that show, the stuff that goes unchecked there is totally unprofessional and absolutely revolting.”

Six!

Bobby: “Coming from the man who’s calling a match where some guy just dug his fingers into an open wound on the other guy’s head, I think we’re way past being ‘dignified’ and ‘classy,’ don’t you think?”

Seven!

Hugh: “…”

Bobby: “What?  Nothing to say to that?”

Eight!

Hugh: “… No comment…”

Bobby: “Figures.  Oh, thank God in Heaven!  Deming’s on his feet!”

Deming makes it up just before “nine,” which seems to suit Borger just fine.  Sliding out to the floor, Borger hits Deming with a Yakuza kick that sends him over the railing into the crowd.  As fans move out of the way – whether under their own power or from Deming’s… let’s say, “physical persuasion” – “The Sniper” stands on the barricade, balancing himself carefully as he waits for Deming to make it to his feet.  He does soon enough, and Borger launches himself off the rail, nailing a beautiful somersault senton onto the “Deadeye” with nothing but a sea of chairs to cushion the impact.  The crowd starts up a fecal chant as the official hops over the guardrail to check on the condition of the two athletes.  Seeing them both suffering from the high-impact effects of the maneuver on the ground, he shrugs and does his job.

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Hugh: “Borger may have unwittingly signed his own death warrant there… it looks like his senton injured him as much as it did Deming.”

Bobby: “That’s why Deming is going to win this match.  Ace is just a big, dumb, stupid hillbilly jock, and that’s all he’ll ever be.  Deming was always the brains of the two of them, and it’s going to serve him well tonight.”

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Both men start to stir, and – using the surrounding furniture for support – manage to make it to their feet before the count of “nine.”  Borger holds his arm, having apparently re-aggravated his earlier injury, but shakes it off, ducking a Deming clothesline before delivering a right-handed lariat of his own.  Not letting him get a chance to recover, he tosses Deming back over the barricade and kicks him mercilessly in the stomach.  Deming gasps for air, and Borger picks him up, twists his body around and hurls him backwards with a pumphandle suplex onto the arena floor.

Hugh: “Wow, I bet that hurt!”

Bobby: “Great contribution, Captain Obvious.”

Rolling Deming inside the ring, Borger signals for the finish.  “It’s over!” he shouts as he encourages his adversary to stand.  He raises his hands as the “Deadeye” rises, grabbing him as he turns around.  He hoists him onto his shoulders… but can’t hold him there!

Bobby: “Did you see that?!”

Hugh: “He can’t get him up for the Dying Tired!  His arm and shoulder are too hurt; he can’t support Deming’s weight!”

Bobby: “That must be why he targeted it in the first place; it was an insurance policy!”

Borger’s body goes limp as he drops Deming backwards.  Neither one land terribly hard, but the pain buzzing in Borger’s left arm and shoulder prevent him from getting up too quickly.  Too bad for him; it gives Deming just enough time to recover and hit Borger with a dropkick to the back of his head.  “The Sniper” cradles his neck as Deming shakes off the cobwebs.  Sensing the tide turning in his favor, Deming grabs Borger’s arms across his throat, drags him to his feet, and turns him upside-down before dropping the back of his neck across his shoulder with his infamous, patented Crosshairs neckbreaker.

Hugh: “The dangerous thing about the Crosshairs is that not only is the back of your neck getting jacked against Deming’s shoulder, but your own arms squash your throat in the process.”

Bobby: “And only a genius like the ‘Deadeye’ would have thought to create such a powerful move!”

Hugh: “Well, you know what they say, there’s nothing new under the moon…”

Bobby: “Are you calling Adam Deming a thief and a liar?”

Hugh: “In this instance, not necessarily.  In general, though…”

Bobby: “Whatever.  You’re just jealous that he’s way more awesome than you are.”

The referee starts to count, but Deming clearly has further plans for his opponent.  Sliding to the floor, he reaches underneath the ring once more, this time pulling out a folding table.  The crowd pops for further furniture use as Deming slides the table into the squared circle.  Borger rouses himself at “six” and heads for the ropes for leverage, all while Deming sets up the table in the center of the ring.  As soon as Borger makes it to his feet at “eight,” Deming is there to greet him with an enzuigiri that sees him land on top of the table.  Deming hurries to lay him fully across the table before scuttling up to the top rope.  The fans rise to their feet; most don’t know exactly what Deming is going for, but those who do anticipate a beautiful sight.

Bobby: “Here it comes, Huey!  TOTAL!  NONSTOP!  ALTITUDE!”

Hugh: “Good Lord!  Did you see the hangtime on that frog splash?!”

All of Deming’s 245 pounds come crashing down on top of Borger’s prone form, easily shattering the table beneath into thousands of pieces.  Like the senton from before, though, the move takes its toll on both competitors, and Deming clutches his ribs, writhing in pain as Borger lies perfectly still in a quagmire of table shards.

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Bobby: “Come on, Deming, get up!  Don’t let it all be for nothing!”

Five!

Hugh: “If he can get to his feet, he may very well have this thing won.  I’ve never seen a frog splash with that kind of height or impact.”

Six!

Bobby: “That’s why he’s the best, baby!  Now if only he can just… get… up…”

Seven!

Deming manages to stand, leaning back on the top rope for support.  He smiles, but it doesn’t last.  Borger had been stirring at “six,” and before Deming knows it, Borger’s shakily on his feet just before the count of “ten.”  An irate Deming charges, but Borger ducks it, hoisting the “Deadeye” up and over with a back-body drop, hoping to send him to the floor once more.  Deming does fly over the top, but manages to hang on to the top rope on his way over and lands safely on the ring apron.  Once righting himself, he takes a swing at Borger, but Borger blocks it, grabs Deming by the hair and thrusts his face into the ring post.

Bobby: “What?!  What happened?!”

Hugh: “Deming just got his bell rung!”

Deming is dazed and slightly out of it, but not enough to prevent him from hanging on to the top rope for dear life.  That serves Borger’s purposes just fine, though; he hooks Deming’s head and throws his arm over his own head.  Lifting him up, the crowd expects a vertical suplex from the outside back in, but Borger has other plans in mind.  Instead, he uses the suplex position to mount Deming on the top turnbuckle.  The crowd’s anticipation rises as Borger follows Deming up the turnbuckles and stands him up.

Hugh: “Sniper’s Eye, coming up!”

Bobby: “No, no, no, no!  This isn’t supposed to end this way!”

The fans pop as Borger hooks the leg for his trademark top rope cradle suplex… but Borger pauses.  Looking down at the floor, then back at his helpless opponent, Borger grins.  He repositions himself and his opponent; instead of his back being towards the center of the ring, it’s now facing the outside.  And that’s not good news.

Bobby: “Oh, my God… you don’t think…”

Hugh: “Our Spanish announcers, Julio and Fe had better get out of the way!”

Bobby: “Holy ****, here they come!  Hit the deck!”

Julio and Fe just manage to scuttle away before Borger and Deming totally obliterate the Spanish announce table.  Everyone – regardless of the “PG” rating Showdown normally has – chants, “HO-LY ****!  HO-LY ****!” as the Spanish language announcers look on horrified at the carnage lain out before them.  The referee needs a moment to take it in as well, but ultimately, he’s a professional, and he’s going to do what he has to do.

One!

Two!

Three!

Hugh: “Bobby, neither one of these men is moving at all.  They’re barely breathing…”

Four!

Five!

Bobby: “I’m not surprised; I can’t believe they’re even still alive after that!”

Six!

Seven!

Hugh: “Still nothing.  I think they’re both knocked out here.”

Eight!

Nine!

Bobby: “Oh no, no!  It can’t end like this!”

TEN!

And yet it does; both men are finally showing signs of life, but neither one has answered the ten-count in time.  That being said, the man who administered the count hesitates to ring the bell; his hand is raised, but he hasn’t pointed to the timekeeper to signify the end of the match.  Instead, he calls over the ring announcer, whispering into his ear.

Bobby: “What’s going on here, Huey?  Why hasn’t the match ended yet?”

Hugh: “I don’t know.  I’m sure we’re about to find out, though…”

Schumacher: “I’ve been informed by the referee that although neither Adam Deming nor Ace Borger was able to answer the count of ten… that due to the nature of the personal rivalry between these two men… this match must have a winner!”

Hugh: “This is unprecedented!  We’re witnessing history, Bobby!”

Schumacher: “The official’s count will continue until one man is able to make it to his feet.  That man will then be declared the undisputed winner.  There will be a last man standing!”

Hugh: “You heard him, folks!  Welcome to UWE, where Last Man Standing matches actually live up to their billing!”

Bobby: “And you know what?  Good!  It’ll give Deming another chance to truly cement his well-deserved victory!”

With that announcement, both Deming and Borger – incredibly fatigued and weakened, but now fully conscious – look at each other with the same emotion readily evident in their eyes as the referee resumes his count: panic.

Eleven!

Deming, with great effort, starts throwing out his hands, clinging to debris and whatever else he can to get some kind of hold for pulling himself up.  Borger heads for the barricade, remembering how effective it was for his opponent regaining his balance earlier in the contest.

Twelve!

Borger still has a ways to go to get to the guardrail, and has to maneuver his way around the errant Spanish language announcers’ feet to navigate his way there.  For Deming’s part, pieces of table poke and prod him, impeding his progress, not to mention the fact that their combined sweat and blood on the table has made the pieces slippery; he can’t get a foothold.

Thirteen!

Hugh: “Whoever makes it to his feet first will win the match; that’s the referee’s edict, and both these men are desperate to be the winner.”

Bobby: “Man, these guys are beat up!  If this thing wasn’t so personal, I’d just say stay down, take the loss and live to fight another day.”

Fourteen!

Hugh: “Borger’s got a grip of the barricade!  He’s going to make it!”

Bobby: “Not before Deming, though!  He’s finally free of the wreckage of the table and almost on his feet!”

Fifteen!

And at that moment, both men get to a bipedal position and swing their eyes over to check on their opponent.  With confusion and hope in their eyes, each looks at the referee, wanting to know who managed to make it up first.  The zebra just shakes his head, though… and motions his arms together.  “Let’s go, boys!” he says.  “You both got up at the same time; the match continues!”

Hugh: “Did you hear that?  This match still isn’t finished!”

Bobby: “It’s gotta be soon, though, Huey… both of these men have used up a lot of gas…”

Both competitors hang their respective heads in disbelief, but Deming is the first to shrug it off.  His sneer makes it obvious that he’s tired of playing games; he’s going in for the kill.  He throws a haymaker, but Borger catches it and answers with a flurry of rights and lefts, each one backing him up a little bit until he’s back up against the ring apron.  A final shot sends him sprawling into the ring, and Borger is quick to follow him inside.  Deming gets up, but gets knocked back down again with a shoulder block.  He’s up again quickly, only to get dropped with another shoulder block, this time of the flying variety.  Once again Deming wills himself back up, only to be caught with a swinging neckbreaker.

Hugh: “What an offensive flurry by ‘The Sniper!’”

Bobby: “Come on, Deming!  Get your second wind, already!  I’ve got money riding on you tonight!”

Deming is wobbly as he gets up, and Borger once again signals for the finish.  He waits for the “Deadeye” to turn around before hoisting him on his shoulders – adrenaline numbing the pain in his arm and shoulder, surely – and dropping him down with the—

Hugh: “Dying Tired!”

Bobby: “Ha ha!  Not today!”

Hugh: “How did he do that?”

Deming flips out of the Dying Tired on the way down from the fireman’s carry, landing on his feet in front of Borger.  Furious, Borger goes for a lariat, but Deming ducks it, wraps his arm around Borger’s head and shoulder, pushes him forward and swings him back and around, drilling his face into the mat with the Vapor Trail!

Hugh: “Out of nowhere, he hits the Vapor Trail!”

Bobby: “This is delicious!  Ace Borger was the first one to taste Deming’s Vapor Trail, and now it’s going to be the thing that puts him out of Deming’s misery for good!  I love it!”

Deming smiles, as much in relief as in satisfaction as the referee begins his count.

One!

Two!

Three!

Bobby: “This is sure to put him away.  Nobody survives the Vapor Trail, Huey!”

Four!

Hugh: “I’ve yet to see anyone kick out of it… but that’s only a three-count.  This is ten.  And a slower count, at that.”

Five!

Bobby: “Oh, like it matters.  Did you see the way his head spiked the canvas?  How his body contorted from that torque?  It’s a done deal, my friend… a done deal.”

Six!

The crowd starts to get louder in encouragement for Ace Borger, clapping their hands and stomping their feet along with their chants of, “LET’S GO, BOR-GER, LET’S GO!”  Deming seems rather annoyed at their support for him, but considering his recently-revealed feelings for the fans, this should come as no surprise.

Seven!

What does surprise, though, is the movement of Borger’s hand, reaching out into the sky as if to hold onto some invisible, heavenly handle that would give him the leverage he needs.  As soon as Deming sees this, he nods his head in sarcastic appreciation.  “That’s the way you wanna play it?” he asks, heading to the outside once more.  “Fine.”

Eight!

Borger is on his hands and knees, feeding off the crowd’s support and the memory of his family’s invaded privacy.  Meanwhile, Deming is looking underneath the ring for something.  Finally finding the steel char he was looking for, he slides back into the ring.

Nine!

Borger is on one knee now… almost there.  But before he can get there, Deming cracks him across the back with the chair!

Hugh: “Good LORD, what a chair shot!”

Bobby: “He saw Borger moving, and he immediately went for that chair, Huey.”

Hugh: “If he’d just held on a little longer, he might not have needed to attack him again, though… he was on his way, but I’m not sure he was going to get up in time, Bobby.”

Bobby: “Deming’s never been one to hedge his bets.  He wanted to make sure this win was unarguable.  He doesn’t want any controversy whatsoever.  So he did what he felt he needed to do, and I can’t argue against it.”

“You wanna show me what you’re made of, huh?!” Deming screams at the ground-bound Borger.  “You wanna show me what you’re made of?  You wanna prove to me what kind of man you are?  Then just… end it!” he shouts, cracking the chair across his back once more before demanding the referee to count.

One!

Two!

Three!

Hugh: “This is just nasty.  He is brutally picking apart a defenseless human being.  I can barely watch.”

Four!

Bobby: “Oh, come on, you’ve seen worse than this.”

Five!

Hugh: “Not with so much manic hatred behind the eyes of the attacker, though.  Deming looks absolutely crazed…”

Six!

Hugh: “My God, I don’t believe it… Borger’s getting up!”

Bobby: “What?  No way!”

Unbelievable as it may seem, that’s exactly what Borger is doing.  His muscles shaking and his breathing heavy, Borger wills himself once again to his hands and knees.  And once again not taking any chances is Deming.  “Just make it end, Ace!” Deming shrilly wails, nailing him with another shot, this time to that hurt left arm, causing Borger to roll on the mat in agony.  “END IT!”

One!

Hugh: “You know what I’ve noticed, Bobby?”

Two!

Bobby: “What’s that?”

Hugh: “Deming’s choice of words… he keeps saying, ‘end it’… ‘make it end.’”

Three!

Bobby: “Yeah, so what?  He wants the match to be over with so he can finally be rid of his ungrateful little shadow there.  Makes sense to me.”

Four!

Hugh: “Yeah, but in that video he released, he said it too.  He said, ‘Only you can end it.  Step up.  Be a man.  End it.’”

Five!

Bobby: “I still don’t get what point you’re trying to make, man.”

Six!

Hugh: “Well, does that sound like the type of thing someone says to someone who wants their opponent to just lay down?”

Seven!

Borger fights for all he’s worth to make it to his feet, and Deming grits his teeth.  Breaking the referee’s count, he nails Borger with a knee right to the face before picking him up and putting him in the tree of woe position in the nearest corner.  “You’re weak,” he says as he crouches down, getting right in Borger’s face.  “You forced me to do this.”  Going back to the center of the ring, he picks up the chair he’d dropped and opens it up, placing it around Borger’s neck as he hangs upside-down in the corner.

Hugh: “Oh, sweet Mary… I’ve seen this before.”

Bobby: “Huh?

Hugh: “I’ve seen this ‘high’-light before, Bobby… in old tapes.”

Bobby: “What?  What’s going on?”

Hugh: “… He’s going to break his neck…”

Deming mounts the top rope amidst men’s taunts, women’s gasps and children’s tears.  He now stands high above Borger, looking down on him ominously.  Bowing his head, he whispers, “I’m sorry,” and reaches out his foot, ready to drop down across the chair.  Before he can, though, Borger manages to free himself from his furniture necklace and one last-ditch effort to avoid certain doom, frantically hurls the chair upwards.  The leg of the chair hits Deming square in the eye, and the “Deadeye” loses his balance, plummeting all the way down, hitting the guardrail right before crumpling to the floor in a bruised, broken, bloody heap.

Hugh: “I can’t believe what I’ve just seen!”

Bobby: “He just killed Adam Deming!  He just killed Adam Deming!”

Borger manages to pull himself up to sit on the top turnbuckle, panting in fatigue and relief as the referee somberly begins his count once more.

One!

Two!

Three!

Bobby: “I can’t believe what a despicable act was rendered here tonight on the part of Ace Borger!  We might have just been part of a snuff film!”

Four!

Hugh: “Is it any worse than what Deming was clearly planning to do to Borger?  He broke the neck of a guy by the name of Randal Williams with that deadly maneuver and nearly killed him.  Is Borger’s frantic defensive move really all that unjustified?”

Five!

Bobby: “Did you hear me cheering for Deming when he was going to break Borger’s neck?  No, you didn’t.  I didn’t condone that, nor do I condone what actually happened.”

Six!

Hugh: “Are you kidding me?  You were rubbing your hands like a giant arsonist insect just now… all you needed was a, ‘goooood… goooooooooood’ to top it off!”

Seven!

Bobby: “A man’s life might be in danger, and you’re quibbling with me over me rubbing my hands?  They were cold, and I wanted to warm them up.  What’s so wrong with that?”

Eight![/color]

Hugh: “You’re so full of crap, Bobby.  It’s a sweatbox in here.  There’s no way your hands were cold.  At all.”

Nine!

Bobby: “I don’t have to justify myself to you, Hugh.  I’ll have you know I have it on good authority that your mother—”

Hugh: “Sweet Christmas!  Somehow, some way, Adam Deming made it back to his feet!”

The play-by-play man’s shock is shared with everyone else in the arena, whether wrestler, tech crew member or fan.  Deming is up.  He’s quivering like a balsa wood tower trying to hold up a fifty-pound free weight and his left eye is swollen shut tighter than White House security, but he’s up.  “Son of a ****!” a shocked, but furious Borger exclaims as he goes outside and grabs the fallen chair.  He raises it high above his head… but suddenly stops.

Hugh: “Huh?  What’s going on?”

Bobby: “Maybe he’s had a change of heart and realizes Adam Deming is just better than him in every way and should just lay down for him.”

Hugh: “… Yeah, that’s not it.”

Bobby: “You don’t know that.”

Hugh: “Trust me.  That’s not it.”

What stops Borger in his tracks is Deming’s stance.  He’s just standing there.  He’s not making any effort to escape, or cover up… no attempt to stop it whatsoever.  He just stands there, eyes closed… shaking, but tranquil.  Borger looks at the referee and questions him on the matter, but he simply shrugs in ignorance.

“Just end it, Ace.”  Borger spins back around to see Deming, eyes (well… eye, anyway, singular) opened, peering at Borger pensively.  “Please… just let it end.”  He drops to his knees, closes his eye again and holds his arms out.  His chin protruding, his lip quivers as a tear rolls down his cheek.

Bobby: “I don’t… I don’t understand, Huey.  What the Hell is going on?”

Hugh: “I don’t know, Bobby.  I’m with you and all these people here… I don’t know what to think.”

Borger stares at Deming’s waiting, submissive form for a second, then at the chair.  Then, as if a light bulb turns on in his head, his eyes bug open.  Heaving an understanding sigh, he somberly raises the chair back over his head.  His face scrunched in what looks like regret, he slams the chair on the top of Deming’s head as hard as he can, severely denting the seat of the chair and popping loose the screws that hold the seat to the frame.  For what seems like an eternity (but for what really only lasts about two seconds), Deming’s form remains unchanged… before totally collapsing in dead weight.

Hugh: “Good GOD!”

Bobby: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone swing a chair with that much force before in my entire career!  And I’ve been doing this for a while, now!”

Borger dejectedly chucks the chair to the side before breathing a heavy sigh.  He runs his fingers through his hair as he sits on the ring steps, never taking his eyes off his opponent as the referee counts…

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

Nine!

Hugh: “And as if there was any doubt…”

TEN!

Hugh: “… it’s over.”

Schumacher: “Here is your winner… Ace ‘The Sniper’ Borger!”

The crowd roars in approval as Borger’s hand is raised, but the Texan seems to take no delight in his victory.  He just sits and watches as the EMTs hurry from the back to tend to the fallen “Deadeye.”

Hugh: “What you have just witnessed, loyal viewers, is history.  Not just for UWE, but for professional wrestling in general.”

Bobby: “What do you mean, Huey?  I mean, I know it was a great match, but—”

Hugh: “I think we’ve seen the last of ‘Deadeye’ Adam Deming… forever.”

Bobby: “Wait a minute.  You really think he’s… that he’s—”

Hugh: “I don’t think there’s really a question, Bobby.  We just saw Ace Borger put Adam Deming down… at his own request.”

Neck stabilization, stretcher, IV, the whole nine yards for Adam Deming.  And as the crowd gives Borger (and maybe Deming, too… you never know) a standing ovation, Borger stands and walks over to the medical personnel as they raise up the gurney and start to wheel him to the ambulance waiting backstage.  As he’s wheeled away, though, the “Deadeye” obviously fading in and out of consciousness, looks directly at Ace Borger… and smiles.  “Thank you,” he mouths before slipping back into unconsciousness, disappearing backstage.

Borger smirks and nods.  “No problem, man,” he says before finally acknowledging the crowd’s growing-ever-louder appreciation for his efforts tonight.  He raises up his arms and points at the private box his son, girlfriend and military friends are sheltered in before taking a bow and walking to the back.
« Last Edit: July 30, 2009, 03:22:37 pm by Greenbean » Report Spam   Logged

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« Reply #7 on: July 28, 2009, 06:47:50 pm »

UWE World Heavyweight Championship Match
Main Event: Angelus (c) vs Bryan Blaze


Match Writer: Greenbean


The opening to “Indestructible” begins to play all throughout the arena, as all the lights dim and right/blue spotlights circle around the stage. As the first verse is sung, Bryan Blaze enters from behind the curtain, and is instantly showered with nothing but the utmost hatred and excessively loud boos from the crowd in attendance.

No explanation will matter after we begin
Unlock the dark destroyer that's buried within
My true vocation and now my unfortunate friend
You will discover a war you're unable to win.


Schumacher: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the UWE World Heavyweight Championship! Weighing in at one hundred, ninety-three pounds, from Sydney, Nova Scotia, Canada....Bbbbbrrrrryyyyyaaaaannnnnn Blllllllaaaaaaazzeeee!

Blaze struts down the ramp as fans continue to pelt him with hate and obscenities. As he reaches the bottom of the ramp, he drops to his knees as pyro erupts all around/inside the ring.

Indestructible
Determination that is incorruptible
From the other side, a terror to behold
Annihilation will be unavoidable


Blaze circles around the ring, until he gets to the far ring steps. He quickly steps up them and onto the ring apron. Blaze then climbs the second turnbuckle and outstretches his arms in a taunt on the crowd.

Every broken enemy will know
That their opponent had to be invincible
Take a last look around while you're alive
I'm an indestructible master of war!


Blaze now climbs to the top turnbuckle and then front-flips into the ring, landing on one knee and pointing to the rafters, as the fans continue to boo.

"Fortune, fame, mirror vain
Gone insane...
BUT THE MEMORY REMAINS!"


*BOOM!* A huge pyro fires up from the stage as "The memory Remains" continues playing. As the smoke from the pyro clears, Angelus is left standing in the middle of the stage staring straight down at his opponent. There's a sudden chill that sweeps through the crowd as Angelus takes one good, long look around the arena.

"Heavy rings on fingers wave
Another star denies the grave
See the nowhere crowd cry the nowhere tears of honor"


Schumacher: Ladies and Gentlemen. From Las Vegas, Nevada! Weighing in at 225 pounds! He is UWE's first and only Grand Slam Champion! ANNNNnnnnnNNNNGELLLLLLUSSSSss!

"Like twisted vines that grow
Hide and swallow mansions whole
And dim the light of an already faded prima donna"


Angelus makes his way down the ramp, highfiving the occasional fan who holds their arm out desperately to touch him. Some fans can be heard cheering his name at the top of their lungs, others have not forgotten his past deeds and refuse to cheer him. Angelus' eyes say it all though. He's not here for them. Angelus slides in on the apron and pops up, immediately look over to his opponent and pointing to them, telling them tonight they're gonna just another fallen victim. He then turns around and runs to the turnbuckle, jumping up to the top rope and pointing around the arena, then back to himself. Angelus jumps off and turns to his opponent, loosening up a little before the match begins.

Fortune, fame, mirror vain, gone insane
Fortune, fame, mirror vain, gone insane
But the memory remains


Everyone senses this is as big of a big match environment as your likely to see. On one side of the ring stands the World Champion, Angelus and on the other side, a man much different to the guy everyone thought they knew: Bryan Blaze. Unlike their last one-on-one encounter, the crowd are now solidly behind Angelus here, chants break out for the champ with everyone vying for him to retain his title and give Blaze the ass-kicking he deserves. The referee holds the Championship high above his head, showing it off for all to see as he then hands the Championship to the ring announcer, calls for the bell, which sounds and the premiere match of the evening is underway, much to the pleasure of this capacity crowd who let out a simultaneous roar in antiscipation.

The two unique athletes maintain eye contact with each other and instead of rushing things both the Champ and Challenge realise to much is at stake as they slowly edge towards each other, looking to go for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, but just before they lock up, Blaze lowers his head and shuffles past Angelus, an obvious attempt to get into the Champ's head. Blaze begins to taunt Angelus who says nothing in return, just simply stares back at Blaze with those cold blue eyes, you just get the feeling that Angelus is ready to unload on Blaze at a moments notice. The ref calls for them to 'fight' as Angelus now comes walking with a purpose towards Blaze, who realises Anj isn't playing around so he backs up into the corner, even popping his head inbetween the ropes and causing the ref to get in the middle of them, preventing Angelus from attacking and while Anj isn't looking, Blaze runs past him and heads towards the opposite corner, standing, waiting for Angelus as Anj takes a deep breathe "if that's the way you want it" he says to Blaze and slowly comes walking towards him again.


Reynolds: Good tactics or coward-like actions Bobby?

Moroso: Definately good tactics. Blaze knows the champ is ready to self-destruct and how do you push the button a little, more than frustrating the guy who wants to rip your throat out?

Reynolds: Interesting theory. Although one could argue Blaze is simply scared he'll get his throat ripped out.

Blaze now comes out of the corner towards Angelus, then he quickly throws his boot up towards the head off Angelus, going for a Roundhouse Kick, but Angelus has great reflexes and ducks the kick and as Blaze spins back round to face him, Anj hits a kick of his own, to the stomach of Blaze, Angelus now gets Blaze in position for the C-2...but Blaze is able to wriggle out of it and immediately rolls backwards out of the ring, trying to catch his breathe as he steps backwards a little, Angelus looks ready to chase him, but the official prevents the Champ from leaving the ring, so Angelus stands in the middle of it, hands on hips as he waits for Blaze to return, but Bryan's in no hurry, he knows he has 10 seconds to get back into the ring and if by staying outside it may anger Angelus into a mistake, then so be it.

The ref's count reaches four as Blaze slowly walks back up the ring steps and climbs into the ring with caution, not taking an eye of Angelus as he expects Anj to charge at him. The ref makes sure Angelus doesn't attack Blaze while he gets back into the ring. With a smile on his face, Blaze gradually gets back into the ring, but lurks close to the ropes regardless, knowing he could possibly be getting to Angelus, Blaze holds onto the top rope and walks towards another corner, generating boos from the audience, but his game plan is working a treat as Anj is definately getting frustrated.

Finally Blaze steps away from the ropes as Angelus edges closer to him, Blaze doesn't back off this time and the two tentatively go to lock up again with another collar-and-elbow, this time it's Angelus playing the mind games by making Blaze thing he wants to lock up, but as soon as Anj gets within striking distance, he wallops Blaze hard in the ribs, causing Blaze to lower his head and now Angelus begins to unload with a flurry of right hands, all to the face of Blaze and all finding their mark but before Blaze drops to the floor, Angelus holds back, grabbing Blaze by the head and smashing him face first into the turnbuckle pad, then pulling him back into the middle of the ring and executing a suplex on Blaze, rolling over and attempting a cover...

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Kickout! Blaze gets the ring shoulder up and realising he's in trouble here, begins to crawl towards the ropes, hoping to get a little more breathing space, but this time Angelus won't allow it as he grabs Blaze by the legs, pulls him back into the middle of the ring and jumps up, dropping the leg across the chest of Blaze, trying to slow the guy down a bit as up to now, it's been difficult for Anj to get a hold of him. Sound strategy here by Angelus as he now applies a rear chin lock on Blaze, keeping the high flyer on the floor and destructing him bit by bit, finally the match is going to plan for Angelus. Blaze is trying to wriggle out of it, but Anj has the hold lock in pretty tight, although Blaze is still able to slide himself, with Anj on his back, towards the ropes and hooks his legs around the bottom one, which of course means the hold will be broken.

The ref tells Angelus to back up, but he isn't interested in what the ref has to say as he gets up, Angelus now starts to stomp at the back of Blaze, then he helps Bryan up and Irish whips him, only for Bryan to reverse it, sending Angelus for the run to the ropes, as he returns Blaze leapfrogs over his head, showing great leaping ability and now as Angelus returns, Blaze lies on his back hoping to monkey flip Angelus across the ring...but the Champ gets the breaks on just in the nick of time, grabs hold of both legs of Blaze and puts him in a unique pinning predicament...

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Kickout! Of course Blaze isn't gonna be beaten like that and Angelus knows that, he doesn't want Blaze to lose yet but he knows Bryan has to exert energy by kicking out, quite a clever way to tire out an opponent really. Again Angelus is the first up, followed by Blaze, who walks right into a stiff clothesline from Angelus, knocking him back down hard to the canvas. Anj gets him back up to his feet and with a kick to the mid-section, sets up Blaze for a hard right hand which causes Bryan to fall right back, only being propped up by the middle rope infact but this doesn't distract Angelus who now stomps a mudhole of his own into Blaze, much to the annoyance of the official, but Angelus stops before he could possibly get counted out, he knows this game well.

Anj now Irish whips Blaze again and as he returns Angelus back bodydrops Blaze, sending him high into the sky he's so light as Blaze crashes back down onto the mat with a thud. Feeling good about this match, Angelus takes his eyes off Blaze for a moment, but as he goes to fight Blaze he sees his number one contender get to the outside of the ring, Blaze needs to re-consider this match. Plan A obviously hasn't worked so it's time to turn to Plan B for Blaze, so it seems. Blaze turns around and begins to exchange words with the commentators "I don't need this title" he can be heard saying, but now it's Bryan who has his back turned, an open invitation for Angelus to hit a clubbing blow to his neck area and roll him back into the ring again under the bottom ropes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaze sees Angelus heading up top and at the opportune moment, he kicks the referee, which sends him into the ropes and in turn, causes Angelus to lose his balance, falling on his plums on the top turnbuckle as he's in quite the precarious position now. The ref isn't happy with Blaze, but knows there's nothing really he can do as Blaze just claims he didn't mean it, although he's gonna take advantage of the situation anyway. Time for a high risk move from Blaze as he now joins Angelus on the top ropes, both men are steady as an air of antiscipation fills the arena, Blaze now jumps up, wraps his legs around the neck of Angelus and pulls back, executing an amazing hurricanrana from the top ropes, really shifting the momentum in this match now!

This keeps both guys down for a considerable amount of time and Blaze is the one who's stirring first, the only thought on his mind here is climbing those ropes again, Blaze is determined to make it up and as he does so, he sees Angelus just getting to his feet so without a moments pause he jumps off the top ropes, with both his knees connecting with the chest of Angelus, driving the Champ to the mat with a modified double knee drop, this could be it as Blaze quickly covers...

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Kickout! Blaze is up to his feet and has an air of confidence about him, he has this match where he want it, but he still needs to be careful. Blaze lifts Angelus up quite lazily, giving Angelus a chance to turn this into a small package on Blaze, the crowd count along, thinking Angelus might have it here...

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Kickout! Both men are up but Blaze realises he can't take his time and immediately hits Angelus with a Pele Kick, knocking him right back down and keeping Blaze on top in this one. Blaze is up and let's everyone know how good he thinks he is, tapping himself on the back, but the fans don't share the same views as Bryan, they let him know how much of an **** they think he is with a chorus of boos as they try to will Angelus up to his feet.

Anj is finally getting back up, his natural instincts are to be vertical, no matter how much pain he's going through as the man who wears the World Championship with pride is up and ready to battle for his life. Wearily, he turns around, looking for Blaze...but getting up was the worse thing he could've done as Blaze springboards off the top ropes, flying at Angelus and dropkicking him halfway across the ring, possibly ending the match as Blaze hurries to pin Anj...

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Kickout! The fans pop for Angelus, this is why he's World Champion as Blaze slaps the mat once before getting the leg of Angelus and putting him in a single leg Boston Crab, trying to tear some muscles now and trying to prevent Angelus from being able to stand in this match, this match is working exactly how Blaze wants. Trying to reach for the ropes Anj's too far away, Blaze pulls back as hard as he can and the champ doesn't have much strength in him right now to crawl towards the ropes in order to break the hold.

Finally Angelus is able to turn over onto his stomach and with his free leg, pushes Blaze off him, causing Blaze to go shoulder first into the ringpost, a loud crack can be heard as some people gasp, some cheer and all are on the edge of their seats as Angelus is on his back and Blaze is still inside the ropes. The audience start a clap going, from a slow pace which eventually quickens in their hopes of getting Angelus up first, desperately trying to get him the advantage back in this one. It appears to be working as Angelus is up to his knees now, the will to win from both men is overwhelming as Blaze, favouring that left shoulder, is back up and throws caution to the wind by charging at Angelus, but Angleus lifts him up and drops him onto the top ropes, hotshotting him and again Blaze is down but Angelus can't take advantage as he drops to the mat again, both men are physically spent here but after a couple of deep breathes, both force themselves up, fighting through the pain barrier.

Blaze is first to attack as he swings at Angelus-ducked-THE VERDICT! Angelus just got Blaze with one of his favourite moves that causes the fans to erupt out of their seats, Anj drapes an arm over Blaze, looking to retain his Championship...

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Kickout! Angelus sits up and sits staring, thinking of his next line of attack as Blaze is still flat on his back, but he will not give in if he can help it. The ref crouches down and tells Anj it was 2, which he knows or else he'd be celebrating now and he gets back up, ready to finish off Blaze perhaps, who, although extremely groggy, is back to his feet too. Anj kicks Blaze in the stomach, setting him up for and executing The Chadinator! Again he covers as he bridges Blaze...

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Kickout! Blaze gets a shoulder up again, however seems to be on his last legs. Angelus is right back up, he has his second wind and starts encouraging the fans to get behind him, of course they do as a replay airs, showing both The Verdict and The Chadinator. Again Angelus kicks Blaze in the gut, this time thinking of the C-2 which would surely be the final nail in the coffin for Blaze...but Bryan's feet never leave the ground as he pushes Angelus back, before Anj hits the turnbuckle pad though, he puts on the breaks just in time and then turn back around to blast Blaze right in the face, rocking him backwards, Blaze turns back to face Angelus One Way Ticket!!! Angelus just took the head off of Blaze and covers to keep his Championship...

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Kickout!!! A right foot on the bottom rope from Blaze is all that saved him, but it's all that was needed. Some fans don't realise he got his foot on the ropes and begin to cheer until they see the titantron. The ref points this out to Angelus, good officiating and great ring presence from Bryan Blaze. As close as this match is to being over, it's not finished yet!


Reynolds: Angelus is pulling out all the stops here but Blaze, like him or not, won't quit. He needs something big to happen though, or else it's just a matter of time.

Moroso: This is destiny. Blaze is destined to finally sit on that throne as the top man in UWE and nothing Angelus does can change it.

Angelus now grabs Blaze and pulls him up to his feet again, the guy is dead weight and Angelus has to use a lot of strength just to get him up, but he finally is able to and now he sets Blaze up for the C-2 again!! Angelus gets Blaze up this time, but now Blaze slides down the back of Angelus, Anj turns and Blaze attempts a stiff kick-ducked by Angelus, as Blaze spins around on the spot he has his back to Anj, who now pushes him into the ropes, but Blaze shows great ability in countering as he pulls off the counter off the night, springboarding onto the ropes and spinning backwards and planting a foot to the skull of Angelus, Blaze got the Heatwave!!! A hush falls over the arena for a couple of seconds, before they see Blaze crawling towards Angelus as they begin to boo Blaze, as he now covers Angelus and hooks the leg...

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Kickout!!! Angelus shoots the shoulder up with the ref's arm literally an inch from the canvas, Blaze is denied for now!! Blaze brings Angelus up to his feet, contemplating his next move as he was sure the Heatwave would do the job, he even guarenteed it. Blaze thinks to go for another Heatwave!! Springboarding off the ropes, he comes at Angelus-One Way Ticket!!! Angelus caught Blaze true and knocks him the **** OUT!! Angelus flops onto Blaze, barely covering him but the ref counts...

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Schumacher: Here is your winner...and SSTTTIIIILLLLL UWE World Heavyweight Champion Angelus!

Two men went to war and only one man is left standing, the World Champion Angelus! The Champ is helped up by the official, who raises his hand in victory, followed by handing him his championship. The emotion pours through his body as he looks at the title, then Blaze and then finally hoists his belt up high into the air, which has the fans going crazy for him. Angelus climbs the turnbuckle and shows off his championship as Fight Night 5 fades to black on a shot of the joyous Angelus.
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