Post by Danny on Oct 17, 2022 1:53:31 GMT -6
And now UWF presents...
As the logo is seen, things go live to the inside of the arena as pyrotechnics go off from the stage and the camera pans around to get a shot of the fans from all around the world gathered for the 2022 edition of Bad Blood! The camera pans over to the commentary team where Corey Graves, Mauro Ranallo, and Tom Phillips are standing by.
Mauro Ranallo: Hello and welcome to Bad Blood! An aptly named show for all the vicious feuds we have going on here tonight. I'm Mauro Ranallo alongside my broadcast partners Tom Phillips and former International Champion Corey Graves.
Corey Graves: 2 out of 3 Falls, Last Man Standing, a Steel Cage match, I certainly hope we see a little of that bad blood spilled out in the ring tonight.
Tom Phillips: Easy there tiger. We've got a packed show tonight so how about we stop talking and get right down to the action.
Chimel: The following contest is a Two-Out-Of-Three Falls Match!
"Battle-Axe" hits the arena PA and the fans hit their feet. The cameras key in on the stage as Mox's 'tron plays, but he's not there. After a few long, awkward moments, the cameras eventually find the man walking through the crowd.
Chimel: Introducing first, from Cincinnati, Ohio, weighing 224 pounds, Jon MOXLEY!
Mox hops the barricade and enters the ring, then pulls off his vest and tosses it to the crowd. He performs some pre-match stretches ahead of the match.
The funky beat of Walk The Moon's "Headphones" plays and the crowd starts to boo as it means the arrival of the current? World Tag Team Champion Sami Zayn. He has the title in his hands and dances with it on the stage. He ends up calming down a bit but still walks with some swagger down the ramp, swinging his belt around like he's got a big one.
Chimel: And his opponent, from Montreal Quebec, Canada, weighing in at 212 pounds, The Dynamic Sami Zayn!!
Sami slides into the ring and continues to dance around with his belt much to the chagrin of the paying audience. Sami walks over and makes sure to show it off to all the fans before preparing for the match.
With both men now in the squared circle, Tony steps out and the Official calls for the bell.
VS
DING DING
Moxley cracks his neck from side to side, loosens up the traps a bit with some big shrugs, and then marches towards Zayn with nothing but ill intent. The sight of a man as dangerous as this particular 'Natti Native would have most folks quaking in their boots, if not running for the hills. Even with a change in name and attitude, Mox is every bit as threatening as ever, if not moreso now. His reputation proceeds him.
So why is Zayn smiling, then?
Phillips: What's up with Sami Zayn? Is he taking this seriously?
Graves: The Forever Champ put Dean Ambrose down, why should this be any different? There's no reason to be worried.
Ranallo: Or maybe he's just cracking under the pressure. He stole the win at the last pay-per-view with a low blow - securing consecutive pinfalls tonight is going to be take a lot more tricks and I think Jon Moxley might be wise to his act by now.
Maybe, Mauro, but why then with the grin? Jon sees his opponent smiling and he smiles right back, though his his a more menacing one, like he's going to enjoy pulling Sami apart one limb at a time.
Mox steps towards the Forever Champ who puts his hands up defensively, not even wanting to engage. The cowardice draws some boos from the crowd, which pick up a ton of steam when the fans see two people rushing in from outta nowhere to slide into the ring. The Hall of Famer clocks them as soon as they come in under the bottom ropes. It's El Generico on side and La Luchadora on the other!
Ranallo: It's Sami Zayn's so-called proteges, El Duo Dynamico! I should have known!
Graves: They're just coming out to support their mentor! Let me ask you something - if you saw some low-life from the grimiest neighborhood in Ohio's worst city about to mug your sensei, wouldn't you try and do something about it? I think it's honorable that they're coming in to save the day.
Phillips: Oh please!
Generico gets to Mox first, which doesn't do him any favours. The Pale Luchador gets clobbered with a knee to the face on the way in, followed by some heavy forearms thrown to the back to slow him down. Jon then turn to take a swing at Luchadora to ward her off, but that leaves his back exposed to Sami.
Zayn slithers in from behind and clips the Death Rider from behind, throwing himself into the back of the calves with a chop block. Moxley goes down like an injured race horse. The goons don't hesitate to jump all over him, ganging up to stomp and punch and bite and kick and whatever else as the Referee rushes to edge of the ring to call for the bell.
THE WINNER OF THE FIRST FALL BY DISQUALIFICAITON, JON MOXLEY!
The announcement stuns the fans in attendance. They're shocked to see Sami just throw away a fall so easily.
Phillips: What on earth is Sami doing? Is he trying to lose on purpose?
Ranallo: I think his twisted mind has actually concocted a compelling strategy here, Tom. He's giving up a fall, yes, but think of what this is costing Jon Moxley.
Graves: I've said it before and I'll say it again, Sami Zayn is a pro-wrestling genius. Nobody is on his level mentally.
The Official rushes back over to the scene of the crime where Generico and Luchadora are still on the attack. Moxley is banged up as all heck at this point, eyes swelling up black and blue, nose bleeding, bruises forming all over his body as the onslaught continues. There's just no fending off the numbers game.
Threatening another DQ if they don't back off immediately, Zayn instructs Generico and Luchadora to cease fire. He orders them to the outside and watch from the apron as he puts an end to rebranded Hall of Famer. El Duo Dynamico do as their told and head out to the floor, a chorus or thunderous jeers from the capacity crowd at Bad Blood accompanying them out of the ring.
Phillips: Too little, too late from the Referee! The damage is already done. As far as I'm concerned, this match should be thrown out. Sami should lose, be fined, and maybe even suspended.
Graves: Ugh. You're such a bootlicker, Phillips. He already lost a precious fall. Isn't that enough?
Phillips: No!
A wellness check by third man on Mox yields a predictable result - he's told in no uncertain terms to fuck off. There's no way Jon is about to give up on the fight. The answer sees Sami smiling all over again. He's huffing and puffing a bit following the vicious beatdown, but that doesn't stop him from backing himself up into a corner. And watching. And waiting.
Jon might have opted to keep going, but he's in really rough shape. A crawl turns to an uncertain stumble as he he careens towards the ropes on shaky legs. The man belongs in a hospital bed, not a wrestling ring. Still, he finds a post to lean on so he can take a breath, regain his composure, and somehow figure out how to recuperate following that -
Ranallo: MAMA MIA!
Graves: Zayn coming in outta nowhere with the Helluva Kick! He damn near took Moxley's head off!
Too dazed to see the train coming down the tracks, Mox didn't even notice Zayn lining him up or running in to execute his signature Big Boot. The Helluva Kick lands flush. Sole marries jaw bone and Jon is sent on a one way trip to the land of wind and ghosts. Sami lands with his leg caught hung over the top rope while a KO'd Moxley collapses to the canvas. The Forever Champ cracks a knowing smile towards the hard cam then unhooks himself to get down and sprawl for a cover.
1...
2...
3...
THE WINNER OF THE SECOND FALL, SAMI ZAYN!
Zayn gets up to his knees and sighs a deep breath of relief. Everything is going according to his sinister little plan. Generico and Luchadora are cheering him on from ringside while every fan in the arena is smothering him with hate.
Phillips: This match has barely started and they're already tied at one apiece.
Ranallo: Next fall wins it all.
Graves: And Sami Zayn has the advantage by miles. This is mastercraft by the Forever Champ.
Sami looks down at Moxley, who still seems to be out cold. He shrugs and reaches over to hook the leg, covering him one more time. The Official is still trying to get an answer from Jon to see if he's good to continue. So far, nothing.
Sami barks at him to count the pin, but the Referee just keeps asking Mox if he wants to keep fighting. Zayn screams at him to start the count. Eventually, the third man relents and starts slapping the canvas while the Canuck pulls that leg in tight.
1...
Ranallo: This could be it, folks. The lights are out at the Moxley residence, I'm afraid.
2...
Phillips: This is a travesty.
Moxley gets a shoulder up just in time! The count is broken! The fight continues!
Zayn shoots a suspicious glare up at the Referee, who insists the count was good. Sami just shakes his head and leans over again, really putting his weight into Jon's shoulders an hooking both legs this time when he shoots the half, confident a little more uumph is all he needs to end this early. The Ref counts it off again...
1...
2...
Mox shoves him off after the second count. Zayn sits up and pounds the mat in frustration.
Nearby, his cronies are offering up some encouragement. With his focus now on the outside, Sami quickly develops a plan B and puts it into action. The Canadian rolls under the bottom rope, reaches back in to grab Jon's ankle and yanks him out to the arena floor. With Moxley now lying on the ground beside the ring, Zayn gives a him a nasty stomp to the back of the head to keep him there before scrambling back into the squared circle. The Official starts to tell him off but Sami interrupts with the deman that he start counting Mox out. With a sigh, the third man does exactly that.
1...
2...
3...
4...
Graves: Jon Moxley is famously too tough for his own good. He's hardwired to kick out, even when he should be in the ICU. This is a great play by Sami.
Phillips: After that last boot to the head, I'm not sure Mox has the wherewithal to beat the count. This could be it. We've been robbed of what might have been a classic if Sami Zayn had the guts to play by the rules.
5...
Generico and Luchadora come around to taunt to Mox. They keep a safe distance while they hurl their insults, not wanting to risk another DQ.
6...
Mox sits up, but when he tries to stand, he collapses to a knee, one hand clasped on the ring apron in a feeble attempt to hold himself steady.
7...
In the ring, Sami urges the Ref to hurry up with his count.
8...
Jon tries to stand, but his head is spinning. It's difficult to get any balance. Back down to a knee again.
9...
With one great heave, Mox throws himself under the ropes and into the ring just before the ten count costs him the match. The fans explode into cheers. Sami Zayn is furious. He accuses the Referee of a slow count - that this is all some sort of conspiracy. His ranting and raving sees his back turning towards his opponent. The Official can't get a word in edgewise while he's being screamed at, but his widening eyes tell a story of their own. All he can do is watch as Moxley somehow finds the stamina to drag himself to his feet while Sami is none the wiser.
Ranallo: Sami needs to relax and get his head in the game.
Graves: If this Referee would just shut up and let him focus, he'd know what's going on. Turn around Sami!
Corey's words, as well as the growing buzz of the audience and the warnings of his thugs at ringside are all lost under the sound of his own tirade. Sami doesn't have a clue what's going on until he gets a tap on the shoulder.
He immediately goes quiet. Cold beads of sweat trickle down his forehead as he cautiously wheels around, hoping to see anyone else besides the person he know will be standing there.
Ranallo: Rent just came do, ladies and gentlemen.
Phillips: Karma's a B-word!
Graves: Grow up, Phillips.
The moment they're face to face, Mox drives his knee right up into Sami's guts. Zayn doubles over, totally winded, unable to get any air back into his lungs. Jon hooks his opponent's head under his arm and against his torso. With gritted teeth and a wild look in his blackened eyes, the man from the East Side of Cincinatti delivers a snap DDT with so much stank on it you'd think somebody had left in the back of the fridge for a month.
Zayn's head bounces off the mat like a sportsball. Mox rolls over but doesn't even try for a pin. With one hand still gripping the mane of his foe, Jon hauls him back to a vertical base then feeds him a stiff right hand right to the jaw. He uses his left to hold the head steady so he can feed the Canuck a few more shots, then whips him towards a nearby turnbuckle.
Sami careens shoulder-first into the gap between the top and middle ropes, colliding with the unmoving post. Bone and metal connect with a stomach-churning crunch that echoes around the lower bowl. Fans wince at the car wreck, but also love to see it.
Moxley takes a second to catch his breath, hands resting on his thighs for just a moment. He's in rough shape, but by gosh, he's still in this thing even after all he been through. The applause and support from the people gives him something of a second wind and with the enthusiasm of ten thousand plus willing him on, he marches over to the corner where Zayn is still curled around the buckle.
As he's about to get there, though, Luchadora hops up on the adjacent apron and starts talking some serious trash in her native Spanish. Definitely no Irish accent there. None at all. Before Mox can take matters into his own hands, Generico creeps up around the other side and comes gunning for Jon.
Phillips: Ugh. Here we go again!
Ranallo: Moxley and the Referee are focused on La Luchadora! They don't even see Generico coming!
Sneaky though the Pale Luchador may be, Moxley can feel him creeping up on the mat. He wheels around and catches the son of a gun red-handed. Generico pulls up and starts to back away, begging for mercy, trying to suggest this is all just some big misunderstanding. Mox just nods then levels him with a lariat that turns the guy inside out to a chorus of cheers.
He then bends over, scoops up the remains, tucks the head and hooks the arms behind the back to set up for his signature maneuver. There's a pause - some brief stalling to let the fear of God soak into Generico's soul. In those few seconds, Sami untangles himself from the post and crawls up behind Jon like a jungle cat in the long grass stalking his prey.
The fans put their boy on to the threat right away. Moxley abandons the Paradigm Shift, tossing Generico side like yesterday's trash then pivoting to find Sami Zayn right there waiting for him. He kicks the Canadian right in the mouth then pries him up off the canvas.
Under threat of disqualification, Luchadora reluctantly drops back down to the floor. The Referee gets his focus back on the match just in time to see Moxley dropping Zayn with a Headlock Driver! Sami's face slams into the canvas and Mox crawls on to him to shoot the half...
1...
2...
The Referee notices Sami's leg has found its way up on to the bottom rope. Luchadora is standing suspiciously close to apron there. Nevertheless, the count is broken.
Ranallo: The Mexican Minx strikes again! Moxley is having a hell of a time navigating his way through what has essentially become a handicap match.
Phillips: Security should have been sent down her already to escort these clowns out of the building.
Graves: Well maybe if Moxley was a nicer person he would have some friends to watch his back.
Jon sits up next to Sami, wipes some blood from his nose and takes another deep breath. He has to shake his head to try and ward off another dizzy spell, and while that's got him pre-occupied, Luchadora helps Sami roll out to the floor. Mox catches that out of the corner of his eye and curses under his breath. He's fed up with these games.
The Referee starts off a ten count and makes it to three before Jon waves that off and heads through the ropes to the outside. The third man pleads with him to keep the action in the ring but that just ain't happening pal. As the the action spill out of the regulation area, the fans start to cheer again, sliding to the edges of their seats in anticipation of seeing things go off the rails.
Mox walks towards Sami with a Michael Myers-esque pace. Luchadora almost has to drag the battered Zayn away from him. They're too slow. Moxley is for sure gonna catch up. They need a distraction and they get one in the form of Generico, who is also looking worse for wear after that vicious lariat.
El Generico comes up behind Moxley with a steal chair. The Referee breaks up his fresh ten count to warn the Pale Luchador that if he hits Mox, this match is over. That threat catches Zayn's attention and gets some life back in him. He screams at Generico, telling him no to cost him the win.
Ranallo: Interesting...
Phillips: However bad Sami wants to see Moxley get decked with that chair, the narcissist in him wants the victory even more.
Generico hesitates. Moxley turns to face him and dares the guy to give it his best shot. He puts his arms behind his back, leaving himself wide open for it. The crowd is torn. They don't want to see Moxley take a chair to the face, but also, it would mean the win. Generico seems just as confused. Such is the confounded, self-destructive insanity of Jon Moxley.
Another stern warning from the Ref, punctuated by a promise of the termination of his services should he eff this up from Sami sees Generico dropping the chair on the floor. Mox is all like "yeah, that's what I thought", then boots the dude in the guts, bend him over, hooks him up, and delivers a Gotch-Style Piledriver to him right on to the chair!
Graves: He just murdered him! That psycho just killed El Generico!
Phillips: That's on Generico! It's his own damn fault for getting involved!
A "HOLY SHIT!" chant erupts around the building as Moxley stands tall over the twitching Luchador. His neck is bent at an absurd angle next to a dented steel chair. Jon just sneers at the wreckage then gets back to business.
Turning around, he sees Luchadora helping Sami get back in to the squared circle. He follows suite, meeting Sami up in the ring and breaking up the ten count to keep this thing going. Zayn looks up at the man coming towards him with supreme worry written all over his face. He's lost all taste for this conflict. Mox doesn't give a heck.
Yanking Zayn to his feet, he feeds him a forearm shiver to the mouth followed by a knee to the midsection. From there, he hoos the arms behind the back, looking for a Paradigm Shift. Sami drops to a knee to cut that off. Mox immediately transitions, stepping around to the back to try for a choke.
The Forever Champ goes into panic mode, wildly kicking out his legs and backing the both of them up into one of the corners. Mox is sandwiched between the post and his opponent. He's still going for the Rear Naked Choke but the Referee steps in to break it up on account of they're touching the ropes. Jon begrudgingly releases his grip, but there's no hope for a clean break on Zayn's part. He fires an elbow back into Moxley's teeth before stumbling out towards the center of the canvas.
Phillips: Any chance this guy has for a cheap shot, he takes it.
Ranallo: Well you don't get to be "Forever Champ" by playing nice, I suppose.
Zayn calls the Referee over, suggesting he might be too injured to continue. This, of course, captures the full attention of the third man, who rushes in to make a quick medical assessment. With his back turned to the corner, he fails to notice Luchadora hop back up on to the apron. She wraps a friggin garrote around Moxley's neck and begins to choke the life out of him with the wire.
The fans boo their heads off, screaming at the Referee to turn around while Mox tries to pry the wire off. Luchadora just pulls harder, squeezing the air out of him.
Phillips: This is ridiculous!
Graves: Quiet Phillips, let the Referee focus. Sami Zayn could be seriously injured in there!
Seeing that his distraction paid off, Sami is miraculously healed in an instant! He pops to his feet and charges Moxley. As soon as the Ref is looking over there, Luchadora releases her hold and tucks the weapon away. Zayn comes rushing in with a Helluva Kick, looking to put an end to this one...
Moxley drops out of the way! The boot goes wide and blasts Luchadora instead! She's sent soaring off the apron to the floor, knocked out cold by her own mentor's attack! Zayn gawks at his mistake, mortified. And in that lapse of focus, Moxley catches him from behind with a roll-up...
1...
2...
No! Sami pops out just in time!
Phillips: Ah! Nearly had him!
Ranallo: Looks like Mox is just getting started!
Jon stays all over Zayn. He lands a flurry of clubbing shots to the head and torso then pull his foe up to his feet. A boot to the midsection sets him up for another Paradigm Shift. Mox hoists the hooked arms into the air and drives Zayn head-first into the mat!
Moxley rolls over to make the cover, but Zayn rolls too - right under the ropes to the floor. The fans groan, deflated by the escape just when justice was about to be served. Jon just collapses on to his stomach, sharing in their disappointment.
Graves: Once again, the ring IQ of Zayn pays dividends.
Phillips: Jon Moxley had him dead to rights, but Sami slipped through his fingers again.
The Cincinattian just lays there for a while, breathing heavy. On the outside, Sami Zayn regains some semblance of consciousness and starts to crawl towards Generico and that dented chair. The Referee starts a ten count for him...
1...
2...
3...
Zayn reaches Generico and tries to shake him awake, telling him to get up and hit him with the chair - to force the DQ.
4...
Phillips: Now this is truly revolting. Sami wants his own goon to attack him so he can get away with the easy DQ victory. Disgusting.
Ranallo: I'm surprised he didn't think of it sooner, actually.
5...
Just as Generico finally starts to stir, Mox slides out to the floor, effectively breaking up the ten count. He then limps over to Zayn and Generico. Just as the latter is about to lift up the weapon and do as ordered, Mox stomps down on it. Both Sami and his thug look up in shock to see their nemesis standing right there, spoiling their plan.
Jon shoves the help aside then grabs Zayn by the trunks and the hair to bouncer-toss him right back into the ring. He pursuses his foe, pulling himself up on to the apron. Generico scrambles after him and grabs his ankle, feebly trying to stop the inevitable. Mox shakes him off then boots him in the head to keep him down for good. He then steps through the ropes and grabs a hold of Zayn as he tries to flee.
Phillips: It's all over but the crying now!
Ranallo: Moxley with the RNC!
Rather than grounding Zayn and going for his patented Bulldog Choke, Mox just pulls Zayn in tight with an arm around his neck to squeeze the breath of of him. Sami instantly goes beat red, though that soon starts to fade blueish. The Canadian reaches out for the ropes but Mox pulls him away.
Sami is fading fast. His eyes dart around from side to side while his fingers ineffectively tug at the grip of his opponent. With no other option left, he scoots himself towards a nearby turnbuckle. The ropes are too far to reach with his lands, but stretching out his legs, he's just able to get some footing on the corner pads. He steps up the first, then the second, then flips himself over Moxley to bring both men crashing to the mat! They land right beside the ropes, and Zayn uses them for leverage as he holds Mox there for the pin...
1...
Phillips: Ref! Look! He's got his feet on the ropes!
2...
Ranallo: Damnit!
3...
DING DING
THE WINNER OF THE THIRD FALL...
SAMI ZAYN!
Zayn's music hits the PA and he immediately bails to the outside to evade the wrath of Moxley. He scurries towards the timekeeper's area, stepping over the flattened Generico to collect his Forever Championship belt - not out of pride, but so he has something to swing at Jon if it comes to it.
Phillips: Once again Sami Zayn cheats his way to victory. Somebody needs to put a stop to this menace.
Graves: Could you be more biased against someone? You're clearly part of the conspiracy. Sami Zayn is a top talent who just defeated one of the best to ever do it. In my opinion he's the clear cut Number One Contender for the UWF Championship.
Ranallo: I don't know about that. My hat's off to Jon Moxley, though. Even through a mountain of adversity, he showed us that he's still on of the toughest, grittiest, SOB's on the roster.
Mox sits up and shoots Zayn a look like he's gonna rip his head off next time he gets the chance. Sami just taunts him as he retreats up the ramp, belt clutched to chest, henchpeople left for dead around the ring. Bad Blood rolls on!
The cameras open up backstage in ‘Danhausen’s Lair’, where the Intercontinental Champion appears to be in the midst of a sit down stand-off of sorts. It’s not with his opponent for the night Tommaso Ciampa though, and judging by the fact that he is sat in front of a table full of boxed and carded action figures, it would appear that it doesn’t even have anything to do with the UWF whatsoever… Until the camera zooms out a little, and a former UWF star and well-known keen toy collector is seen sitting across from the champ…
Danhausen
So Danhausen sees your mint in packaging Dark Knight collection Batman and Marvel Select Hulk figures, and raises you… mint in packaging Ultimate Wrestling Retribution collection Scorpion and Bryan Samuelson!
Matt Cardona
What!? Are you serious bro!? No way!
Danhausen
Yes way! Explain yourself, Cardona!
Matt Cardona
First of all, he’s the man called Sting, not ‘Scorpion.’ And secondly, he’s not even a UWF Hall of Famer, meaning his value in this set plummets on that fact alone. Plus, this is the re-release from five years ago instead of the original. Even just looking at this figure next to the Batman one is embarrassing! And don’t get me started on the Danielson one…
Danhausen
But this is still very nice, very sellable merchandise in Danhausen’s possession. Danhausen estimates the valuation of these figures plus the previous batch to come to more than that of your estatehausen.
Matt Cardona
Bro… What logic are you going by? I’m honestly amazed that you are sitting here as the Intercontinental Champion. How did you of all people manage to achieve that when all I could get a hold of was the TV Title!?
Danhausen
Wait… you won the TV title? I thought it was that Zack Snyder fellow who accomplished that. Your resemblance is close, Danhausen will grant you that…
Matt Cardona holds his head in his hands and lets out a massive sigh…
Matt Cardona
That was me! Look, I went by an alternative name back then. It was five years ago, things have changed, I was in a different place at that time.
Danhausen
Danhausen is not entirely convinced. He’s studied all of the previous Ultimate Wrestling tapehausens and found no trace of you. This moment right here by Danhausen’s count is your first appearance on Ultimate Wrestling television. So welcome, Bat Cardona, to the fun clubhausen!
Matt Cardona
I’ve been here before! You know what, screw this! I’m not doing the figure trade with you!
Cardona suddenly gets up and pulls his action figures off the table and into his bag.
Danhausen
But Danhausen desperately needs that Hulk figure!
Matt Cardona
Tough shit! And you’re not coming on The Major Pod Network Either!
With his belongings quickly packed up, Cardona turns away and heads out the nearest exit door, much to Danhausen’s annoyance.
Danhausen
Hey! Don’t you dare swear in the presence of Danhausen! Be gone then, hideous scalperhausen! And don’t let Danhausen ever catch you in his lair again!
As Danhausen lets out a sigh of his own, he notices the cameras are still rolling and realizes his has to re-compose himself ahead of what is a big night for him.
Danhausen
Well as you can see dear viewer friends, Danhausen was trying to conduct some very nice, very important businesshausen with ‘supposedly’ former Ultimate Wrestling star, Bat Cardona, before his big match tonight with his rival Italian Tom, but it just ended up going south in a big way… but rest assured, Danhausen will not allow the misfortune to continue on into the night. You see, even with Danhausen’s Intercointinental Title not up for grabs tonight, there’s still an interesting scenario in place. Tom is looking to gain some form of redemption for his previous shortcomings against Danhausen, whilst Danhausen is aiming to prove that the events from Sunnyslam-a-rama were by no means an accident, and that he is now ahead of Tom by merithausen. Nothing is for certain by any means, but Danhausen has enough faith in his own abilities to try and see this one through once again, and prove that he is the dominant being that he knows he can be. Then once it’s all said and done, Tom will have no choice but to admit once and for all that he has failed, and that as far as current proceedings go, Danhausen truly is the dominant one! Anyways, Love That Danhausen! See you out there!
As Danhausen gives a brief wave, the camera then fades out to resume elsewhere.
Tony Chimel: The following match is scheduled for one fall, already in the ring, Stone Cold Steve Austin and introducing his opponent…..
Psycho Killer by Talking Heads hits the arena as Trent Seven walks out of the curtain. He stand on the stage for a bit before performing his signature mustache taunt.
Tony Chimel: Making his way to the ring, from Wolverhampton, England, weighing 216 pounds, TRENT SEVEN!
Trent jeers at the audience ringside as the boos flood in. He rolls inside the ring and lays on the center for a while, before going to and standing on one of the turnbuckles, staring down the stage, waiting for his opponent to come out.
The referee would check that both men are ready and then call for the bell. Austin and Seven would measure each other up, neither man making the first move. Eventually they would meet in the middle and initiate a collar and elbow, Seven would get the advantage and break up the hold, backing off from Austin he would dust off his shoulders, clearly seeing tonight as an easy opportunity. The crowd would boo this move but Seven would pay them no attention. Going back for another one, this time Austin would gain control and elbow Seven in the face and then rock him with some punches, Seven would retreat into the ropes and call for the referee to back up Austin which the referee does, this allows Seven to charge Austin while his back is turned and hits a Running Bulldog, immediately going for a pin.
Mauro Ranallo: Trent Seven making his presence felt here tonight against Steve Austin. Playing those mind games that he is very much a fan of, even roping the referee into it as an unknowing accomplice.
Tom Phillips: Hitting that devastating Running Bulldog, apparently Seven requested this match as he blames Austin for him losing that fatal four way on Revolution.
Corey Graves: I don’t blame Trent, he was one pinfall away from winning and that idiot Austin broke up the pin and then went on to lose the match. If I was Trent I would have done worse than a Bulldog.
1…2…..Austin kicks out.
Austin gets the shoulder up, despite the surprise attack he hasn’t had much off his sails taken out of him, Trent locks in a seated chinlock but Austin manages to get back to his feet and drives Trent into the corner, delivering an elbow to cause the break up, Austin then hits a stomp to Trents gut, causing Trent to sit down in the corner, Austin then keeps hitting the stomps repeatedly like an automatic stomping machine. Backing off a bit, Austin flips off Trent and then delivers one more stomp before picking him up and hitting a Suplex before going second rope and hitting a pointed elbow drop and going for a pin.
Mauro Ranallo: Austin back in the game here, Trent was trying to wear him down with that chinlock but Austin got him into that corner and hit those Mudhole Stomps and then than devastating elbow.
Tom Phillips: Those stomps have been a part of Austins arsenal for years now and its plain to see why, Seven might be second guessing showing Austin such disrespect earlier in this match.
Corey Graves: Seven shows respect to those who earn it and since his return, Austin hasn’t earned it. He’s a shell of his former self and a couple of lucky moves won’t change anything.
1….2….Kick Out.
Trent pushes Austin off him and Austin gets him up and whips him off the ropes, looking for the Thesz Press he is denied as Trent holds onto the ring rope, Austin charges him looking to knock him over the top rope but Trent hits him with an elbow and then a Knife Edge Chop, the crowd wooing as he does. Trent then hits Austin with another Chop and then grabs him and throws him head first into the turnbuckle, Austin bouncing out and right into a Spinning Backfist from Seven which knocks Austin down. Instead of going for the cover Trent goes to the middle rope and waits for Austin to stand.
Mauro Ranallo: Trent Seven with those vicious strikes out there, he may paint himself as a Gentlemen of this sport folks but trust me he is one of the most brutal strikers in our business today and a true veteran.
Tom Phillips: Trent deciding not to go for a pin and instead goes to the second rope, clearly he is deciding he needs to do more damage to Austin to keep him down permanently, Austin will just keep getting back up, the man knows no quit.
Corey Graves: Yeah well maybe if he knew when to quit, he’d still have a few brain cells left not join up with Cena and the Hoeski but clearly he drank the rest of them away and now its night night for Austin.
Austin gets back to his feet and Trent jumps for an Axe Handle but he’s met with a boot to the gut by Austin and then Austin drops him with a Piledriver. Austin then bounces off the ropes and hits a standing Pointed Elbow before getting up and hitting another. Stomping the groin of Trent he rolls him over into a Boston Crab but Trent manages to quickly crawl to the ropes, using those Veteran instincts to get to his feet. Trent goes for a Headbutt but Austin gets out of the way and hits a Stun Gun onto Trent, hanging him on the top rope. Trent holds his rope as he backs off and is immediately grabbed into a Sleeper Hold by Austin.
Mauro Ranallo: AUSTIN HIT THE STUN GUN. HE HASN’T USED THAT MOVE IN YEARS, NOW HE HAS SEVEN IN THE SLEEPER, THIS IS IT FOLKS.
Tom Phillips: Trent is fading fast here, Austin has done a lot of damage to that throat, already damaging Sevens ability to breathe and now he’s looking to siphon the last of the air out of him.
Corey Graves: Trent has been stuck in worse situations like this, Austin is half the ring technician Seven is, Trent will get out of this trust me.
Back in the ring and Trent is fading fast, Austin is swinging him back and forth with that Sleeper Hold and Austin has it in tight. Trent manages to make it to the corner and grab a ring rope, the referee tells Austin to break it up but Austin doesn’t need to as Trent hits him with a Mule Kick and Austin stumbles out the corner and falls down. The camera cuts to Trent who has a look of rage on his face, grabs one of Austins legs and slams it down into the mat, he repeats the act five more times, leaving Austin clutching his knee. Trent then stretches Austins damaged leg out and jumps from the second rope to stomp on it. The referee checks on Austin but Trent just slams the leg again into the mat before locking in a Kneebar.
Mauro Ranallo: A fire has been lit within Trent Seven, he is just massacring the leg and knee of Steve Austin, potentially setting him up for Seven CIrcles of Hell submission, Austin is in pain here folks, especially with that tight knee bar.
Tom Phillips: Trent has snapped here, if he has his way Austin won’t walk out of here, he’ll need a damn stretcher, Austin is tough but theres only so much a man can take.
Corey Graves: The referee should call it here but he won’t. He knows if he stops this he’ll need to answer to Austin and Seven, thats if Austin doesn’t tap out right now.
Back in the ring and the referee is asking Austin if he quits but Austin refuses to. Trent locks in the kneebar tighter, Austin shouting in pain but still the rattlesnake doesn’t give up. The crowd is cheering for Austin and it seems to light a spark in Austin. He manages to get his other foot round and kicks Trent twice in the face, causing Seven to let go. Seven gets back to his feet and tries to grab Austin but he’s met with a strike to the gut, Austin gets back up but its clear his leg has taken damage as he’s wobbly on it. Austin picks Trent up and throws him into the ropes and as Trent comes back he hits that Thesz Press onto him and tees off with the punches. Getting back to his feet, Austin motions for Trent to get up for the Stunner.
Mauro Ranallo: Austin is back in this, even momentarily thats all he needs to hit the Stunner and get the win.
Tom Phillips: As always, Austin fighting through adversity, showing Trent Seven that he can’t mess with him this easily and now its gonna cost him.
Corey Graves: God Phillips, you’re such a cheerleader. Until I see that 3 count, Seven is still in this.
Seven gets back to his feet and Austin goes for the Stunner but Trent pushes him off and hits a Chop Block to the damaged knee of Austin, Austin drops down and Trent goes back to damaging the kee. Satisfied with his progress he picks up Austin and hits a Powerbomb before hitting him with another Powerbomb. Trent then locks in the Seven Circles of Hell and Austin taps out.
Tony Chimel: YOUR WINNER OF THIS MATCH BY SUBMISSION: TRENT SEVEN.
The referee lifts the arm of Seven who rips it away from him, the crowd is booing Seven as the referee checks on Austin.
Mauro Ranallo: Seven securing the victory here tonight in quite the dominant performance.
Tom Phillips: Austin may have lost but i’m sure Trent Seven will make sure not to second guess him again.
Corey Graves: Austin will be lucky to walk again after that match but if he crawls back, i’m sure Trent will be more than happy to do it to the other leg.
Back in the ring, Trent is basking in his glory as we move on in the show.
The titantron switches from the Bad Blood graphic to a live feed from backstage. Renee Young is shown walking down the concrete corridor, eyes darting from side to side as she comes by adjoining passages. She's looking for something. Or someone. The company's premier backstage correspondent doesn't have time to spare - she's busy as busy gets, especially on pay-per-view nights. There's a sense of urgency in her gait and a frustration in her eyes as the search continues. Fans around the arena squirm in their uncomfortable plastic chairs, unsure of what they're supposed to expect. Just when it looks like Renee is finally about to give up, she stops in her tracks and breathes a sigh of relief.
Young: Ah... there you are.
Panning over, the camera reveals Kyle O'Reilly standing in a dimly lit hallway branching off the main one. He's staring at the wall, which looks to have been chipped away some where knuckles cracked it. Coincidentally, the Diabetic Dragon's fists are dripping blood. Renee cringes in that grimacey sort of way before diving in to this one.
Young: Hey... you uh... hmm... what's up, man?
Kyle's eyes are fixated on a singular spot on the wall - one in the dead center of where it appears he was beating it up. He growls a little under his breath like a provoked anime kid, but doesn't reply otherwise. Renee pries further with the delicate curiosity of a paleontologist.
Young: You getting ready for the big match tonight? It's your first every singles bout on a UWF pay-per-view. That's pretty excit-
KO'R: When I'm done out there, the only part of Cody Rhodes' whole entire body you won't be able to see bruises on is where his dumb ugly tattoo is.
The threat - nay, the guarantee - comes in a low monotone. The eye contact with the wall is perfectly maintained.
Young: Some pretty hard feelings there, eh? Ya know, I think he was just trying to help out. Really. Maybe he was a bit... I dunno... pompous about it, but you gotta remember, he's -
KO'R: Everyone thinks I need help. Or that I can't do this on my own. But I can. I don't need anyone.
Sensing there's a deeper underlying issue here, Renee comes in with the heavy follw-up.
Young: This isn't just about Cody, is it? Is this about Canadian Thanksgiving?
Kyle sniffs a little.
KO':R I dunno...
Maybe...
Yeah...
Young: Do you wanna talk abou-
KO'R Granna's new boyfriend sucks big time. He's the suckiest sucker who ever sucked and I hate him.
Young: Oh no. What did he do?
KO'R: He just... he thinks he's so friggin cool with his moustache and his Mister Shirts and his 2015 SUV.
Young: Kinda sounds like he's pretty regular. What's a "Mister Shirt"?
Kyle rolls his eyes and scoffs, like that's the dumbest question he's ever heard in his life.
KO'R: Ya know, Mister Shirts, like the kind with collars and buttons that grown-ups where to jobs and nice dinners? You have to wear them at Christmas and Easter for Mass, too. Those are the rules of being a Catholic.
Young: Of course. Right.
KO'R: The worst part is, he brought his idiot daughter over for dinner. Brittney or something like that. She's all like "I'm a wrestler, too". Like... puh-lease! Effing spare me. A chick wrestler?!?!
Young: Well... I mean... there are lots of those. You've wrestled Becky Lynch like six times. She beat you for the tag team titles. Asuka was literally your teammate in Sweet n' Sour Inc.
KO'R: Yeah, well even if she is, I bet she sucks. But she was all like "hey get me a job at UWF" and she just keeps asking so I go to get go more mashies and guess what?
Young: There were no more mashies left?
KO'R: They were gone, Renee. All gone. Casserole dish - empty. Nadda. And when I go back to the table to see who took them all, there's Briana or whoever the frick pouring gravy all over a heap of them. Granna can see I'm about to snap so she's like "It's okay, Kyle - Brooklyn or what's her face doesn't eat meat so she gets extra veggies". Then this B-word has the friggin balls to tell us that she isn't even a vegetarian, she's just doing NoMeatTober, which, by the effing way, is the worst thing I've ever heard of in my entire life.
Young: I bet that meant you got extra Turkey though, right?
KO'R: Not even! Manuel pigged out on the dark stuff! There weren't even leftovers. Renee, I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that I hate these people more than -
Now it's Renee's turn to interrupt.
Young: More than ISIS?
KO'R: Uh... yeah... how'd you know?
Young: Lucky guess. Listen, Kyle, I can tell you're upset, but you've got a really important match coming up right away here. Cody Rhodes is a formal world champion a few times over. He's experienced and dangerous and clever and I think you need to get your head in the game. Do some stretches or something, ya know, get prepared.
KO'R: Pffft, what do you think I've been punching the wall for?
Young: Right. Well, I guess all that's left to say is good luck and uh... remember, if Manuel makes Granna O'Reilly, maybe you oughta give him and that daughter of his a chance.
Unlike most interviews, it's Renee that walks away first this time, leaving Kyle with his twisted thoughts in that dark little hallway. Bad Blood rolls on!
Bright yellow spotlights begin to shine throughout the arena immediately garnering the attention of every fan in the building. The lights begin to twinkle and move throughout the arena before fixating the at top of the ramp and changing to a blue tint. The arena then goes dark as the music continues to blare loudly from the Speakers. Suddenly, large poles form a runway down to the ramp, and they instantly light on fire. The fire burns steadily as the camera fixates on the top of the ramp, waiting for the illustrious superstar to make his way out from the back to face the UWF Universe.
Without further adieu, The Visionary Seth Rollins steps out from behind the curtains with his arms extending outwards by his sides. The one and only Paul Heyman, bald head, and all, appears from the backstage area as well following Seth, rubbing his hands and wearing a self-approving look on his face as well.
The fans show their disapproval for the duo by launching incredibly loud boo's in unison that would register on the Richter scale. Seth walks down the ramp, slowly and methodically, his theme music exiting the speakers and entering the atmosphere, making it seem as if a real-life God like figure has just entered everyone’s presence. Seth finally makes his way to the ring, steps up the stairs and enters the ring with his manager behind him. Seth Rollins stands in the middle of the ring with both of his hands out to the side, presenting himself as a mythical being in a sense.
Tony Chimel: Hailing from Buffalo, Iowa & weighing in at 220 lbs, SETH ROLLLLLLLLLLINNNNSS!!!!!!!
"Homicide" by LL Cool J hits the PA System and out comes the "Notorious 187" Homicide!
Homicide comes out and the fans cheer. Homicide puts the gun signs up and than he fake shoots his pretend guns and makes his way down to the ring as the fans cheer him.
Tony Chimel: Introducing from Cocunut Creek, Florida by way of Brooklyn New York this is the Notorious 187 Homicide!!!
Homicide enters the ring and gets to the top turnbuckle removing his bandana and throwing it to the fans. He throws up a gang sign representing his LAX days. Homicide than jumps down from the turnbuckle and is ready for the fight at hand.
VS
DING DING DING!
The bell rings and the two men circle around the ring but Seth actually rolls out of the ring and goes over to the ringside area. He ends up grabbing the Prime Time Medal and tosses ti to the ground before stomping on it.
Tom Phillips: The blatant disrespect from the former UWF Champion.
Corey Graves: He's made his feelings about this participation trophy known and if Homicide wants to be seen as more than a paper champion, he'll need to prove it to Seth Rollins.
Mauro Ranallo: It looks like he has every intention of doing just that!
Homicide quickly exits out the ring to give chase but Seth slides right back in. Homicide comes back in after him but Rollins cuts him off with some boots as he's entering. Homicide fights through the kicks and manages to tackle Rollins to the ground. Seth is now at the mercy of Homicide as he just starts pummeling Rollins all over. The ref is trying to get control pf the situation but Homicide isn't letting up. Rollins manages to roll away and escape to the outside of the ring. He thinks he's safe but he doesn't expect to see Homicide come flying out at him with a Suicide Dive! Rollins gets knocked into the barricade but Homicide isn't done there. He picks him up and throws him right into the steel ring post! Rollin's skull bounces off the cold hard steel and Homicide throws him back into the ring.
Rollins puts his hands up and pleads with Homicide to wait and have mercy. Homicide looks around and the crowd is chanting "NO!". Homicide however gets blindsided by Seth with a punch to the gut. Seth jumps to his feet and hits a Jumping Knee right in Homicide's face. The Notorious 187 stumbles back to the corner and Rollins continues the attack. He runs at him but Homicide gets the boot up and clocks him in the face. Seth goes back a few paces and Homicide runs forward and connects with the Gringo Cutter! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Rollins kicks out at 2! Homicide brings him right back up and sets him up for the Gringo Killer but Seth manages to keep himself from being turned and instead uses his size and strength advantage to walk closer to the ropes and kick off of them, flip back over Homicide's back. He kicks the Prime Time Medal holder in the gut and sets him up for a Pedigree. Homicide has other plan however and flips him over with a Back Body Drop. Or at least that was the plan but Seth flips all the way over and lands on his feet. Homicide turns around into a Superkick. He's sent back a few paces and falls to a knee. Seth looks mighty pleased with himself and Heyman tells him to end it right now. Dan Lambert comes by and gets in Heyman's face. The ref is trying to get them separated but Rollins runs up on Homicide looking for the Curb Stomp. Homicide pops to his feet and moves out of the way just in time and gives Seth a kick right to the nether regions! He's hunched over in pain and Homicide ends up hooking both arms and turning him upside down to deliver the Gringo Killer! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, and STILL The Prime Time Medal holder, Homicide!
Mauro Ranallo: And with that win, Homicide has scored his 3rd victory and can now cash it in for a shot at the Intercontinental Championship.
Tom Phillips: Seth attacked him to prove that the medal was nothing more than a participation trophy but Homicide just proved him wrong.
Corey Graves: Are you guys blind? He cheated! That's what The Cartel does!
Rollins rolls out of the ring to be checked on by Heyman while Lambert comes in with the BMF title that represents the medal and hands it to Homicide along with the medal. He raises both and tells the IC champ he's coming for him next as the show moves on.
As the cameras fade into the next shot, the visual of the locker room showcases its emptiness. Nobody rests inside its interior...nobody but one man. A singular man, stuck all alone for the first time since he had laid hands on that which he calls his Harlan Gold. Trevor Lee is seated in a chair, staring out towards the wall with a thousand-yard stare on his face, not a hint of his serpent's grin to be found. For the time being, it appears that the mask is off of the man with the gold...
As he clutches the UWF Television Championship in one hand, the other is holding onto a cell phone, his grip rather tight on the plastic-bound communication necessity. With the camera hanging overhead, it catches a glimpse of a conversation being had...
Staring down at his phone, Trevor Lee begins typing once more, seeming to be completely lost in the words written, caring not for the camera looming over his shoulder.
After sending that final message, Trevor Lee stops...but when no reply is sent his way, Lee's face turns to a scowl. Still clutching the belt close to him, he sets it upon his lap and begins using both hands to start typing up a storm.
The scowl turns into a shudder as Lee shivers in some hybrid of fear and blind rage, and the messages continue flying through.
Lee is nearly convulsing in his chair between messages, the UWF TV Title shaking around as he thrashes in his own pit of anger, clearly knowing no self-restraint towards what has occurred, and perhaps, towards what is about to occur.
After the intense bout of copy-pasting, however, Lee snaps out of this trance he finds himself slipped into, as the Harlan Gold clatters against the floor of the locker room with a sharp, yet equally dull thud. The carpet below thankfully provides plenty of give for the title, but it doesn't provide anything for the champ himself, who begins shaking as he continues to type.
Waiting a few minutes, Lee looks at the phone.....but when he is given zero response, it feels as though a dam bursts in his mind. Not of sadness, or of despair...but something else entirely. Something that causes him to tighten his focus, and maintain something more than just a thousand-yard stare at the wall. A full-on glare develops on his face, his thoughts consumed by only one outcome, one result, one assurance that can set all of this aside. Setting the cell phone down for but a moment, Lee stands...but his exit from the room is cut off by a new face entering the room.
Kayla Braxton: "...Excuse me, Trevor Lee?"
Letting his eyes wander for a moment, they settle on the face of Kayla Braxton, and in that moment, Trevor realizes it's time to mask up once more. Putting on as false of a smile as he possibly can, he walks over towards the newest UWF interviewer.
Trevor Lee: "Well, well, well, well, well...what can Mista' Trevor Lee do for ya', sweetheart?"
Stepping backwards from Lee, Kayla clears her throat.
Kayla Braxton: "W-Well, Trevor Lee-"
Trevor Lee: "Mister Trevor Lee."
Kayla Braxton: "R-Right...m-mister, Trevor Lee. Could I get a word from you ahead of your steel cage match tonight with the challenger to your UWF Television Championship?"
For a moment, it seems as though Lee is expecting more to the statement...but when nothing comes, he cocks a small, yet powerful grin towards Kayla.
Trevor Lee: "Darlin', if ya' want words from the champ, then ya' came at just the right time. 'Fore we start though, I gotta' ask - ya' definitely different from that other one they got doin' these sorta' jour-nal-is-tic works 'round 'ere, so what's ya' name?"
Kayla takes a hesitant breath.
Kayla Braxton: "K-Kayla, Kayla Braxton."
Trevor Lee: "Well then, miss Braxton, lemme make ya' first real gig 'ere in the U-Dubya-Eff real easy? Ya' want words for my challenger tonight? I'll give ya' some words."
Taking a deep, calming breath, Kayla once more instinctively steps back, keeping the microphone at arm's length away from her to try and stay as far away from the UWF TV Champ as possible...but that smirk remains on his face as he waves to the camera.
Trevor Lee: "Good luck tonight, pardner'! I'm sure ya' gonna need it...'specially once I get through wit' ya' inside that there steel cage~!"
With the calming smile of a serial killer, Trevor Lee turns towards Kayla, who needs no further instruction on getting the hell out of the room, leaving Lee alone once more as Bad Blood heads elsewhere...
Tony Chimel: The following contest is a Last Man Standing match. The winner of the match will be the first man to make his opponent unable to answer a count of 10. Also suspended above the ring in a shark cage will be The Guild.
The camera would pan to The Guild already suspended above the ring in their shark cage. Miz doesn’t look particularly happy about it and Goldust looks downright terrified. The machine controlling the winch is currently placed at the top of the ramp.
Tony Chimel: Introducing first…..
”I Walk Alone” begins playing, sending the crowd into an uproar as many are booing but there are still fans sprinkled amongst them that are cheering the big man. Without much delay, out he walks and begins making his way to the ring.
Tony Chimel: From Washington D.C. Weighing in at two hundred and ninety pounds, BATISTA!
Batista enters the ring and gets ready for the match ahead.
Tony Chimel: And his opponent is already in the ring….. Eddie Kingston
Eddie doesn’t even wait for the bell to ring, charging forward at Batista and driving him into the corner, launching fists and chops like a mad man. Batista tries to cover up but despite his size, Eddie is chopping fast. Eddie snapmares Batista out the corner and bounces off the ropes, hitting a Sliding Forearm onto the Hollywood Animal. Eddie gets back to his feet and poses for the crowd, telling the referee to ring the bell. The referee, fearing what would happen if he doesn’t agree, does so and this brutal contest officially starts. Eddie turns round to deliver more damage to Batista but the Animal charges Eddie and picks him up, shoulder thrusting him into the corner before grabbing his arm and pulling Eddie out into a Short Arm Clothesline.
Mauro Ranallo: Off to the races here folks in a match set to finally determine who is the better between these two men. The bad blood between them has been going on for months now and how fitting tonight it comes to an end.
Tom Phillips: Eddie Kingston trying to catch Batista off guard at the start here, not even letting the referee ring the bell but Batista is on top, much like his lackeys suspended up above us.
Corey Graves: For months now Eddie Kingston has been a thorn in Dave Batista's side. Eddie claims he’s doing this for honor but we all know he’s jealous of Batista and his blockbuster career. Tonight, Dave releases his new Blockbuster “King’s Fall: The Eddie Kingston Story”.
1,,2,,,
Kingston gets back to his feet easily, Batista not having done enough to take it out of the hard brawling man. Batista picks up Kingston for a powerslam but Kingston pokes him in the eye and gets out of his grip, once again lighting his chest up with machine gun chops, Batista's usually tanned chest looking more like a tomato after a few seconds. Eddie would grab Batista wrist and Irish Whip him off the ropes, avoiding a shoulder tackle he would bounce back and hit a strong Lariat to Batista that would make Stan Hansen proud. Batista would still be standing but a bit worse for the wear so Kingston would try a Big Boot but Batista would throw him into the corner and charge, Kingston catches him however with a Uranage, planting the animal on his back before locking in an Inverted Cloverleaf.
Mauro Ranallo: Batista is in trouble here, a fire has been lit in Eddie Kingston and he is making sure to burn down any offense that the Hollywood Animal can unleash. A ring shattering Uranage for his troubles and now stuck in this inverted Cloverleaf.
Tom Phillips: Doubt Kingston all you want but few people can match the heart that this man has when he gets in that ring and in a last man standing match like this, you’ll need all the heart you can get.
Corey Graves: Hearts great and all Phillips but when it comes down to it you need the endurance and no one has endurance like Dave Batista. You know when he was filming Guardians in the Galaxy, he had to be in prosthetics for many hours, if that doesn’t take endurance I don’t know what does.
Back in the ring and Kingston is really working this Cloverleaf but the leg strength of Batista wins here and he manages to get to the bottom rope but the referee reminds him no rope breaks in a last man standing match, Batista then decides to crawl under the rope and drags Kingston the outside, Kingston letting go of the Cloverleaf as they both tumble to the outside. Despite the damage of the Cloverleaf, Batista gets to his feet first and charges and hits Kingston with a Running Clothesline, knocking him down. Batista then picks up Kingston and throws him head first into the barricade before delivering some stomps to the Yonkers native. He then points up at the Guild who throw down a pair of what seems to be brass knuckles. Batista puts on the Knuckles and delivers some grounded shots to Kingston, busting his opponent open and the blood begins to spill.
Mauro Ranallo: The Animal has been unleashed, Batista showing his authority towards Eddie Kingston and the Guild playing a part in that, delivering a pair of Brass Knuckles to Batista from their prison in the sky and the animal has used that to bus open his opponent.
Tom Phillips: Did nobody check those two before they were locked in the cage, I get it’s a no DQ match but those two should have had any illicit items taken away from them before they entered the cage, the whole point of it was so they could not get involved.
Corey Graves: Oh stop your moaning Phillips, this was just another way that Batista outsmarted Kingston. You see, to work in Hollywood you need to be talented and smart and Batista has both of those qualities in spades. You also need friends in high places and Batista has two of them tonight.
1…2….3…..4….
Kingston, with some difficulty manages to get back to his feet, waiting for Batista to be distracted getting some plunder from underneath the ring. Batista pulls out a Kendo Stick and a Chair. Before he can turn round he is grabbed by the waist and Kingston hits a German Suplex onto Batista. Eddie picks up the Kendo Stick and starts going off on Dave like his beloved Yankees. Eddie then grabs the shattered end of the Kendo Stick and turns Dave over before mounting his back and stabbing the sharp end into the Animals head, Batista now bleeding like a stuck pig, Eddie then uses the rest of the Kendo Stick to lock in a Camel Clutch onto Batista but decides after a few moments to let go and go for the chair instead. Picking it up he would place Batista's ankle onto the steel steps and then hit it with the steel chair, Batista shouting in pain. Eddie then would do that two more times before backing off.
Mauro Ranallo: Batista attempted to get some plunder to cause more damage to Eddie Kingston but that plan backfired like my old high school mustang. Eddie then busting open Batista like Batista did to him but gave up on that Camel Clutch, going instead for Dave's ankle.
Tom Phillips: Well you know what they say about turn about being fair play, Eddie took that bleeding and stuck it on Batista. The thing is this match is going to get even worse the longer it goes on but it seems Kingston is content to let the referee do his job right now and maybe end it here.
Corey Graves: God the both of you are such hypocrites, when Batista opens up Kingston its not right but now that Eddie is doing it, it’s ok. I will give Eddie props however, he is taking out the ankle of Batista, that means if Dave gets back up it’ll be difficult for him to support himself which will take out alot of the power moves that Batista uses to his advantage.
1…2…..3…..4…..5…..6……
In a shock moment, Eddie Kingston decides to pick up Batista, apparently not wanting the match to end this way. Kingston delivers some jabs to the face of Batista, all semblance of strategy has been thrown out here and Eddie is just deadset on making Batista suffer, the fists keep raining down but suddenly Eddie feels a large object hit him in the back of his head, looking up he sees the Miz without a boot and looks at the ground and sees said boot. Picking it up he flips off Miz and goes to hit Batista with it but he’s met with a Suplex to the steel steps, Eddie clutching his back as he rolls off the steps. Batista gets back up and picks up Eddie, climbing up the steps with him Batista jumps off and hits a Powerslam to the apron to Eddie, Eddie once again rolling off the apron and clutching his back in pain. Batista isn’t done and he grabs the steel chair and does the same as what Eddie did to his ankle, slamming the chair down into it twice.
Mauro Ranallo: MAMA MIA, POWERSLAM TO THE APRON, EDDIE KINGSTON IS GOING TO BE LUCKY TO BE ABLE TO WALK AFTER THAT.
Tom Phillips: Just before that as well, Batista suplexed Kingston back first onto those steels steps and then he took that Steel Chair and he might have broken Eddie Kingstons ankle and potentially his back folks, Eddie Kingston is going to be in rough shape here after tonight.
Corey Graves: Eddie is reaping what he sews, he is the one who for months has been at the back of Batista and how ironic its his back that might cost him this. There is a reason Batista is called the animal and Eddie Kingston is discovering that personally.
1…..2….3….4…..5…..6……7……
Batista decides to pick up Kingston, deciding he isn’t done with the Yonkers native. Picking up Kingston he hits a Backbreaker onto the already softened up back, Batista would then set up Kingston against the barricade, charging it Kingston, Batista would go for a Spear but at the last second, Kingston would roll out the way and Batista would not be able to stop in time and cannonball through the barricade, destroying the set up. Kingston would work as quick as he can, knowing his back can’t take much. Going after Batista, the pair would brawl through the crowd. Kingston and Batista would come to a concession stand, Batista would swing wildly with a Clothesline and Kingston would pick him up and back drop him through the table, popcorn and soda flying everywhere. Batista would kick at Kingstons ankle, the Mad King backing off slightly, which would allow Batista to make his escape, making his way up to the stage. The pair would now be fighting at the top of the ramp, next to that Shark Cage winch. Batista would go for it but Kingston would charge and hit a Big Boot to the back of Batista's head before picking him up and hitting a Uranage on the steel ramp.
Mauro Ranallo: This fight has now spilled out to the audience and pandemonium is officially here folks, we have popcorn and soda flying everywhere, i’m sure a few lighting rigs have taken some damage but they’ve made it to the stage.
Tom Phillips: That’s right Mauro, Batista seemed to have been trying to make a break for the shark cage controls, trying to get his cronies in on this match but all it got him was a Uranage to the steel ramp for his troubles.
Corey Graves: I can’t believe you two would even suggest such a thing, clearly, Batista was trying to get the operator out the way before that lunatic Kingston got to him. Batista is a man of the people.
1…..2…..3….4….5…..6….7…..8…..9……
Batista manages to get back to his feet at the very last second, actually grabbing an audience member's shirt for leverage to get back up. The man he grabbed looked like he was going to say something but the glare from Batista changed his mind. Batista was met by a stiff right from Kingston but the Animal went low and low blowed Eddie with his foot, Kingston collapsing to the floor. Batista would pick him up and Powerslam him onto the ramp before making his way to the controls. After a second of confusion he would intimidate the Winch Controller and make him lower the cage and grab the key from him, placing it in his wrist tape. Kingston had began to stir and get to his knees so Batista charged and hit him with a Big Boot to the side of the head, sending Eddie rolling down the ramp towards the ring. Batista grabbed him and threw him into the ring as the cage had fully lowered, grabbing the Miz’s boot from the outside, he would get in and open the cage, handing Miz the boot who would lay into Kingston with it as Goldust delivered his own strikes. Batista would then call for the Guild to get Kingston ready, picking him up and placing Kingston on Batista’s shoulders, they would hit a Triple Batista Bomb.
Mauro Ranallo: The Guild has now came into play, Batista’s lackeys have made their presence known and are looking to earn their paycheck, helping Batista deliver that devastating Batista Bomb.
Tom Phillips: Eddie has put up a great fight here tonight but Batista had a plan to get the Guild in here and it succeeded. Once again Batista cheats his way to Victory.
Corey Graves: Hey Phillips its not cheating if theres nothing in the rules against it. Batista used that Big Brain Mentality of his to get one over on Kingston and you just can’t accept it, the right man won here tonight.
1…..2…..3….4….5…..6….7…..8…..9………9.5
While the Guild was celebrating they didn’t notice that Eddie managed to roll to the outside, Batista looks at the referee and asks him why he stopped counting. He would then notice the missing Eddie and look over the ring rope to look for him only to be blasted with a fire extinguisher before Eddie chucked it at him, the fire extinguisher hitting him square in the face, Batista would fall to the ground and Eddie would charge back in and hit the confused Guild with a Double Clothesline, knocking them down. Seeing Batista stir, Eddie would get a wicked idea, using the last of his strength he would tip the Shark Cage over and Batista would look up and see its shadow fall on him, Batista was pinned underneath the Shark Cage but he was powering it off him. Eddie grabbed the Miz and Uranaged him onto the cage, he then did the same to Goldust. Climbing on top of the pair Eddie stood on top of them and added his weight to the pile.
Mauro Ranallo: An ingenious play by Eddie Kingston, using the prison of the Guild to trap Batista and then using the Guild as the blocks to weigh it down.
Tom Phillips: Kingston adding himself to this pile, trying to keep Batista down for as long as he can, just needs to keep him down for 10.
Corey Graves: DAVE NO, IT CAN’T END LIKE THIS.
1…..2…..3….4….5…..6….7…..8…..9……10
Tony Chimel: YOUR WINNER OF THIS MATCH….. EDDIE KINGSTON.
Eddie collapses off the cage and gets to his knees, completely exhausted from this match. The referee helps him get back to his feet and raises Eddie’s fist. Eddie slides out the ring and celebrates with the audience.
Mauro Ranallo: A hard fought victory by Eddie Kingston who is looking to put this chapter of his career behind him tonight.
Tom Phillips: These two men pushed each other to the limit tonight and it shows Eddie having to be helped up by the referee at the end.
Corey Graves: Well I guess Eddie has a brain in there somewhere but Batista showed that the only thing that could stop him was a cage and i’m sure he won’t forget this.
The camera cuts to Batista still trapped under the cage as people help to lift it and a smug looking Kingston celebrating his win as we move on in the show.
The scene opens with Cody Rhodes walking in the hallway and he is stopped by Rene Young.
Rene Young: Hey Cody, what are your thoughts on your match with Kyle?
Cody looks at her and he doesn't say anything.
Cody Rhodes: .............
Rene Young: Uh. Well, do you have anything to say?
Cody Rhodes look at Rene in her eyes and he begin to smile without giving no response before he walks away.
Rene Young: Well, I guess there you have it. Cody Rhodes folks. Back to you guys.
The scene fades and ends with him walking away leaving Rene Young with a confused look on her face.
The titantron would cut to Ciampa sitting backstage, he is by himself right now, Wardlow nowhere to be in sight.
Ciampa: You know this time of year, it gives a lot to think about. Its a time of reflection as we get closer to the end of the year and into a new start and recently i’ve been thinking a lot about that: a new start.
Shifting slightly, Ciampa would continue.
Ciampa: You see when I started off my 2022, I started it off in one of the best ways possible, capturing the Intercontinental Championship and while I didn’t win it, I came third in the Rumble and all that in one night it was a great feeling.
A feeling like that makes a man feel immortal and for months it felt like that. I knocked back every challenger for my belt, I showed that the Prime Time Medal was a curse on those who would face me, I sent people packing and a lot of them haven’t came back. I was the King of the UWF. Not CM Punk, Not Rollins and Not Shark Boy, it was me.
Shaking his head, Ciampa would look disappointed.
Ciampa: I truly believed my time as Intercontinental Champion would never come to an end, that i’d break Rick Rudes record and then double it but then came Summerslam and my second meeting with Danhausen. The first time I faced him it was relatively easy, I got through him without breaking a sweat and like many of his opponents I didn’t take him seriously.
Why would I he was a guy in face paint that seemed more interested in getting over with the crowd than actually on his matches, I underestimated him, i’m man enough to admit that, I underestimated him and it cost me my title, the title I spent months building up and now it was in his hands. I was determined it was a fluke.
Wiping a hand across his face, Ciampa would breathe out.
Ciampa: It wasn’t a fluke though, he outsmarted me. I didn’t take him seriously and it cost me everything I had built. That title. My reputation. My respect, all taken away in an instance due to my own hubris. For weeks I kept trying to convince myself the referee got it wrong but he didn't. Danhausen won that night and I lost. Since then it feels everything has been in a downward spiral. I’ve not won in weeks and Edge beat me.
Sure it isn’t a big deal to lose to the UWF Champion but if I want to move up in the card, I need to show I can hang with the top of the card and I couldn’t. That loss made me realize something had to change and it had to begin with me. Tonight that change begins and it begins with you Danhausen. No titles on the line, just pride. I’m going to go out there and give you the respect you deserve but don’t get it twisted, i’m winning tonight and when I get my hand raised, i’m cleaning up the rest of my past and then Edge or Shark Boy: I’m coming for that UWF Championship.
With that Ciampa would stand up and walk off to the side, slamming the door on his way out.
A lone synthethetic violion whispers through the air like a pretodactyl screech. Soon, a breakbeat ripples beneath. Strobe lights illuminate the entrance way. When the riff kicks in, it heralds the arrival of the Diabetic Dragon. Kyle O'Reilly storms out on to the ramp, fists and jaw clenched, looking like the quiet kid on a bad day. He does some shadow boxing at the head of the ramp while Tony announces his stats.
Chimel: Making his way to the ring from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada... weighing in at 200 pounds... Kyle O'Reilly!
Our beloved Canuck's pace is in lock-step with the propulsive groove en route to the squared circle. The fans in the arena born on the good side of 9/11 know the words and can't help but sing along when the chorus drops. Feeding off that energy, Kyle is spiritually compelled to shred some air guitar as he steps through the ropes to compete. He rocks the heck out with the UWF Universe before getting ready to friggin fight.
Tony Chimel: "From Atlanta, Georgia, Making their way to the ring, the American Nightmare, Cody Rhodes!"
The pryo goes off as the American Nightmare come out to a huge ovation from the roaring crowd and he has a huge smile on his face.
DING DING DING
As the bell sounds out in the arena, there is a brief moment of hesitation from both parties in this contest, neither man making a move towards the other. With this lack of action leaving the crowd restless, it would be The American Nightmare making the first move, as he steps to the center of the ring and extends out a hand towards Kyle O’Reilly.
With The Diabetic Dragon unsure at first, mostly because he simply must consider the possibility that Cody is out of his goddamn mind to be offering a handshake in this day and age of the modern art form known as professional wrestling, the crowd would be giving out mixed signals, some believing Cody to be an honorable man and wanting Kyle to give him the sportsmanship asked for, and some who clearly believe Kyle to have chosen violence today, calling for immediate bloodshed from The American Nightmare.
Finally, as O’Reilly steps forward, the handshake is met…and for ONCE, nothing else comes of it! It’s an honorable showing from both men, one that the referee briefly applauds in that weird non-clapping verbal manner, before calling for the two to begin wrestling.
Tom Phillips: “Honor being shown between Rhodes and O’Reilly tonight, as these two UWF legends get to meet in the ring for what must be close to a first-time encounter.
Corey Graves: ”Right, two legends - a decaying nightmare whose glory years are far behind him and a diabetic dragon soon to be entering shock without the guidance of Larry Sweeney. Certainly a pair of legends…”
Mauro Ranallo: ”Take away whatever you want from them in their current form, Corey, but you cannot take away these men’s accomplishments. One’s a two-time UWF World Tag Team Champion, one’s a former UWF World Heavyweight Champion, but tonight they are two men looking to make their mark in the ever-shifting landscape known as the UWF!”
With the handshake being broken off, it is back to the hesitancy for but a moment. However, this time it is Kyle who makes a move, looking to get Cody into a typical collar-and-elbow tie up. All too willing to get technical with his adversary, Cody obliges…and the match is FINALLY underway! The two men jockey for position, shifting around the ring to and fro, each trying to nab the advantage from the other…but after a few moments, it is Cody who slips out the back and sends Kyle down with a mat return, dropping him face-first to the canvas below, and it’s with a smile on his face that The American Nightmare stands over O’Reilly, having one-upped him so early on in the contest.
Mauro Ranallo: ”And it looks as though Cody Rhodes is showing some of that veteran instinct held deep within him tonight.”
Corey Graves: ”Honestly, it may be the ONLY thing Cody has from when he was world champion, Mauro.”
Mauro Ranallo: ”The match is still young, Corey, so we’ll see how it goes.”
Indeed we shall, Mauro, as Kyle scrambles to his feet and the two men lock up once again. This time, it is O’Reilly who takes the back, before spinning the waistlock into a side headlock, then into a wristlock, before finally pulling Cody down to the mat by the arm, letting go in the process to stand over Cody, giving the same glare to him that a teenager does to their parent when said figure of guidance refuses to leave their bedroom.
Laughing this off, Cody rolls to his feet, and the two lock up for a third time. This go around, Cody is a bit sharper, a bit swifter than Kyle anticipated. Breaking the pattern of the match by anticipating the waistlock attempt by O’Reilly, Cody grabs Kyle into a wristlock, before transitioning upwards into an elevated hammerlock, nearly a setup for a keylock, and then slowly backing Kyle into the corner. The referee, quite adept at doing his job, steps between the two, demanding a clean break…and Cody obliges, letting go of the wrist, his smirk still being shown to O’Reilly. This, however, is the wrong thing to do, as O’Reilly refuses the clean break by slapping The American Nightmare flush across the face!
Tom Phillips: ”What a cheap shot from Kyle O’Reilly!”
Corey Graves: ”A cheap shot? All I am seeing is Kyle O’Reilly FINALLY standing up for himself to the man who has insisted upon himself the entire way through his battles both alongside and against The Diabetic Dragon!”
Tom Phillips: ”But Corey, just a second ago you were-”
Corey Graves: ”I KNOW what I said, Tom! There is no need to remind me of my dislike for both of these men, but one fact remains true - one of these men are bound to win this contest, and if I were a betting man, I’d be hedging my bet on the one who shows aggression first.”
Mauro Ranallo: ”And to Corey’s point, there’s little more aggressive in a wrestling match than a slap right to the face!”
Corey Graves: ”Exactly, Mauro! That type of call is why HE is the #2 commentator of the table, Tom!”
From one personal shot to another, Cody seems to show no care towards the slap from O’Reilly, motioning for him to step out of the corner and lock up with The American Nightmare once more. However, Kyle’s having none of it, and instead rushes Cody for a barrage of strikes! Following multiple E. Honda style palm thrusts to the chest, Cody is met with a stinging uppercut to the jaw, then a forearm smash to follow suit, with Kyle finishing off this true combo with a double palm strike to the midsection, bending Cody over and extending this real-life meter burn. He steps back, and delivers a CRUSHING Ax Kick to the back of the head, before following with the SMAAAAAAASH~! of a Rolling Elbow, forcing Cody to slump down to the mat.
Mauro Ranallo: ”And Kyle O’Reilly is absolutely DEMOLISHING Cody Rhodes with these hard-hitting strikes!”
Tom Phillips: ”It could be an early victory here if Kyle can continue this momentum!”
With Cody sitting up from his dazed stupor, Kyle looks to put a finishing touch on, as he bounces off the ropes, and plants Cody back onto the mat with the Orange Slice, before falling into the first pinfall attempt of the match!
One!
Two!
No!
At an early count of two, Cody kicks out, with O’Reilly standing up soon afterwards, seeming a tad winded. Looking to catch his breath, he backs up into the corner, allowing Cody to slowly stagger to some less-than-stable footing. With legs of gelatin, Cody finds himself stumbling backwards, until some stability is found in the form of the opposite turnbuckles from O’Reilly. Kyle, getting some wind back, soon opts to waste it as he charges towards The American Nightmare, hooking his head in the process before attempting to spring off for a tornado DDT! However, before his mission can be completed, Cody is prepared with a counter, as Kyle lands on his feet…and is sent face-first into the turnbuckle by Cody pulling him by his exposed legs into the corner! Stumbling his way out from the turnbuckle, he turns around, and Cody capitalizes by rushing off the ropes and hooking his arm around Kyle’s head for a Bulldog, dropping him face-first to the mat!
Mauro Ranallo: ”What a crafty move by the veteran Cody Rhodes!”
Tom Phillips:”I suppose it can be considered payback from the slap earlier in the contest.”
Corey Graves: ”I don’t care what it is called! Effective, sure, but Kyle should be better than falling for tricks like that! Hell, him and Larry were the ones pulling those tricks just a short while ago!”
Revisiting the past aside, Cody is the one who now stands in control, and it looks as though he’s going to take advantage of it by immediately acting upon his veteran instincts, grabbing at the legs of O’Reilly and wrenching away on them, before letting the right leg drop to the mat. Keeping a hold on the left leg, Cody would begin dropping the big elbow onto the knee joint, standing up, and doing it all over again! After five or six of these, O’Reilly would truly be feeling the damage of such a basic, yet effective wear-down tactic, and it’d be Cody getting to his feet once again. Keeping the leg in his grasp, he stops before he lets another elbow fly, and instead simply flips O’Reilly over onto his stomach and locks in a hold that Kyle O’Reilly, a Canadian, should know all too well - IT’S THE SINGLE-LEG CRAB!
With the risk of being put away by the hold made famous by legendary Canadian wrestler (more specifically from Calgary…..Alberta, Canada) Lance Storm, Kyle instantly panics his way into a crawl, trying his damndest to get over to the ropes as soon as possible. As he powers himself to a three-out-of-all-fours basis, the crawl is made easier on him, as he makes it to the ropes…but there soon is another problem. All of that heavy breathing…it seems to have taken the wind right back out of Kyle O’Reilly! The man is struggling for certain, acting like a big hero who forgot to take his heart medication, and Cody recognizes this. Stepping back, he motions to the referee that he is backing off on purpose, telling him to check on O’Reilly.
Corey Graves: ”See?! Look at this, there’s no aggression from Cody Rhodes! The man is LETTING his opponent recover when he should be focused on winning!”
Tom Phillips: ”Corey, Kyle O’Reilly could be entering diabetic shock.”
Corey Graves: ”Well I hate to say it regarding the clear favorite of this match, but that is HIS problem! Maybe he should actually plan ahead for one of these matches instead of always having to bail out mid-way through to fix this problem!”
With Kyle rolling to the outside, the referee is quick to follow, and after a few seconds, a blood sugar test is administered just as usual with these Kyle O’Reilly contests. With O’Reilly easily able to provide some blood, it once again is just as usual - low blood sugar. This time, the snack of choice is an orange slice, appropriately enough given the near fall earlier in the contest, but it’s only AFTER he is out of this situation and back into the ring that he realizes what went down. As for the entirety of that test and situation, Cody had been backed into a corner, waiting on his opponent to feel better before continuing the match! Unsurprisingly, Kyle seems even more upset by this as he charges forward, blinded by rage and looking to burn some more meter, but Cody catches the first blow before anything can even begin!
Parrying O’Reilly, Cody slips behind, and drops Kyle to the mat with a Russian Leg Sweep, before then grabbing at the leg once more! Blood sugar low or high or in between, his left leg’s still gonna hurt, and that proves true as Cody drops a knee onto it this time, before then standing up and letting out a small ”WOO!” to the fans, before attempting to lock in the Figure-Four! However, before the hold can be completed, O’Reilly grabs hold of Cody, and gets him into a Small Package!
One!
Two!
...THREE?!
DING DING DING
Tony Chimel: ”HERE IS YOUR WINNER, KYLE O’REILLY!”
With O’Reilly on his feet, Cody is looking around confused for a few moments. He questions if that truly was a three count…but once he is affirmed that the match is over, The American Nightmare simply stands up and laughs it off, before walking back over to Kyle O’Reilly. With no grudges being shown, he offers a hand to Kyle for another showing of honor…but there’s no honor amongst thieves, and there damn sure ain’t no crying in baseball. Do either of those sayings apply here? Nope. But Kyle O’Reilly sure thinks so, as he looks at the hand, looks at Cody, and then walks off, refusing to reciprocate the approval of The American Nightmare as Bad Blood rolls on…
Shark Boy: So this is what it all comes down to - main event, Shark Boy vs Edge - UWF Championship on the line. It's been months in the makin'. It goes back to Final Battle two months ago, Edge with a grip of the tights steals the King of the Ring crown and leaves lil' ol' Shark Boy to contemplate things. Leaves ol' Sharky high and dry to think where things are goin' and where the ought to be goin'. See Edge don't realise it but the night he stole away the King's crown was the night he lit the fire under this shark's bass. It was the night he lit somethin' inside of me that I don't think I've ever felt. Through all the highs, all the lows, the wins and losses... Shark Boy's always been the same. Tougher than a two dollar steak and ready to raise shell anytime and anywhere. But at the same time, Shark Boy's always been the nearly man - second best, silver medalist... Shark Boy's never been the top dog in the UWF...
Shark Boy stops to contemplate before speaking again.
Even when I held that belt - the UWF Championship - I was never the top guy in a sea full of stars like Cody Rhodes, like AJ Styles. And maybe that stuck with me - maybe it stuck with me that I only held the title for a month and we know what happened after that, Edge won't let you forget. And through all those years sittin' at home I formulated goals, I had dreams of comin' back and cementin' my legacy. And maybe I was a lil' foolish thinkin' I could get there just by bein' the Shark Boy of old. Maybe I was a lil' mistaken thinkin' that raisin' shell and whippin' bass was enough to carry my old bass to the top once again and maybe that's why at every step of the way I've came up short - in short, Shark Boy's been empty handed, Shark Boy's return has been a bust.
Shark Boy stops and looks dead at the camera.
Which is why when Edge done to me what Seth Rollins did to me before and stole away my shot at glory, my redemption - my legacy solidified. That's when I looked in the mirror and said Shark Boy... you ain't gon' get to the top relyin' on that same old shrimp. To be the best you've got to evolve, son - you've got to get meaner, rougher, tougher... you've gotta dig deep and find that inner shark that brought you to the dance and you've got to bring it out like never before. Edge - tonight... you go into the ring to do war with a new and improved Shark Boy. A new focused animal - an animal you created Edge and the animal that's comin' to bite ya on the bass. I'm not claimin' to be a new man or nothin' but I'm tellin' ya straight you ain't ever seen the Shark Boy you're gon' see tonight. We've been at each others throats for a month now, from home invasions to tryin' to cave ol Shark Boy's skull in. We've been at each others throats Edge but tonight... I'm rippin' yours out because this shark smells blood and it's feedin' time, son. I'm not just comin' to win the UWF Championship, I'm comin' to prove a point and I'm provin' it in your blood... and that's the fishin' line... cos Shark Boy said so!
Shark Boy shoots out the fin-salute and knocks the camera out the way as he storms down the hallway
As Psycho Killer blasts over the speakers Ciampa walks out onto stage, flanked by Wardlow. The crowd boos the pair loudly.
Tony Chimel: Making his way to the ring and being accompanied by Wardlow from Boston, Massachusetts weighing in tonight at 201lbs, The "Psycho Killer" Tommaso Ciampa.
Ciampa quickly moves his empty hand down and a black and gold pyro bursts out of the stage as the pair makes their way to the ring. Wardlow making sure his boss doesn’t get harassed by any of the fans. As the pair reach the ring Wardlow sits on the ropes and lets Ciampa in. Ciampa then gets in his corner and awaits his opponent.
Suddenly the lights start to darken and flicker...
Cheers begin to ring all around the arena as the music plays and Danhausen takes to the stage. After a couple of slow spins around the stage area, Danhausen then raises his arms and gives out a determined yell as the crowd pops in appreciation.
Tony Chimel
Making his way to the ring, from Someplace Far Away, weighing at least 300lbs, Danhausen!!
Danhausen heads down the ramp, waving politely at some of the fanhausens in attendance before he hops up onto the apron and signals the nearby cameraman to get a close up shot of him. Danhausen then points directly into the camera lens and yells “Love That Danhausen!” before climbing through the middle rope and posing in the center of the ring with his arms held high once again.
VS
DING DING DING
The bell rings and much like their last encounter, both men stand across the ring staring at one another. Ciampa walks towards the center of the ring and extends his arm out. Danhausen looks around, trying to judge whether of not he should accept the handshake. He creeps up to Ciampa and tells him if it's a trick, he will curse him. Tomasso doesn't say a word, simply keeps his hand out. Danhausen goes to shake it and... nothing happens. Ciampa backs off to his corner. The Intercontinental Champion looks surprised but nods. He looks back at Ciampa but the bald bastard is slowly putting up two fingers and curses Danhausen! The champ looks flabbergasted and Ciampa comes barreling out of the corner with a massive Lariat! The enigmatic face painted freak nearly gets knocked out of his own shoes! Ciampa drops down and starts laying into the Champion, making sure he feels every bit of his frustration.
Corey Graves: There we go, teach this freak a lesson Ciampa!
Tom Phillips: The handshake and curse caught Danhausen completely off guardhausen.
Mauro Ranallo: That may be the case but I think the handshake was genuine. We'll have to see how Danhausen responds to this though.
Danhausen covers up as best he can but the ref is luckily there to give Ciampa the 5 count. He actually backs off at a count of 2 and gives Danhausen room to get to his feet. The Intercontinental Champion gets back to a vertical base and so Ciampa comes right back on the attack. He walks up to him but Danhausen puts up a finger and yells for him to wait. Ciampa does so, looking confused but Danhausen catches him with a headbutt! Very evil. Ciampa is knocked back into the corner and Danhausen goes over to him, climbing the middle rope and giving him the ol' 10 fist barrage. The fans count along but after the 7th punch Ciampa reaches up and grabs him in a powerbomb position. Danhausen looks shocked and it's not soon before he's brought down into Project Ciampa! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
But NO! Danhausen kicks out right before the 3!
Mauro Ranallo: A Project Ciampa this early into the match. I thought that was the end right there.
Corey Graves: It should have been the end if Danhausen knew what was good for him.
Tom Phillips: That's why he's Intercontinental Champion Corey. He's got that dawghausen in him!
Ciampa sits up and chuckles to himself. Close but no cigar. He grabs Danhausen and brings him up and over to the corner where he smashes his face into the top turnbuckle. Danhausen'e head bounces off the buckle and he turns back to face Ciampa. Tomasso starts to give him some knees to the gut until he sweeps his legs out from under him, causing him to fall to a seated position. Ciampa walks to the adjacent corner and looks at the man who took his title away from him. He then charges forward, looking to smash his face in when Danhausen moves out of the way just in time! Ciampa ends up kneeing the bottom turnbuckle and turns away limping. Danhausen is right there to catch him with an Inside Cradle!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
But NO! Not today Satan, Ciampa kicks out just in time! Ciampa looks to the ref, making sure it was just a two count. God help him if he lost to an Inside cradle twice. Danhausen rolls to the ropes to help himself get up. Tomasso gets to his feet but buckles at the knee from when he rammed it into the corner. Ciampa doesn't seem hurt, merely annoyed that his leg gave out but he slaps it a few times and figures it';s good to go. He walks over to Danhausen but he eats a Dropkick to the knee! Danhausen follows that up with a Big Boot to the side of the head! The Intercontinental Champion grabs his leg and drives his own knee right into it.
Tom Phillips: Looks like Ciampa may have been a tad overzealous to kick things off and his leg is now being targeted by Danhausen.
Mauro Ranallo: I think Ciampa knows all too well that sometimes, your body just might fail you.
Corey Graves: The day Danhausen learns to pick apart a body is the day I retire. He's going to play to these idiots and it's going to cost him, just watch.
As if almost on cue, Danhausen goes over to his corner and grabs the patented jar of teeth. He goes over to Ciampa and goes to pour the teeth down his gullet but Tomasso reaches up and grabs his hand stopping him. The jar is shaking as both men try to out power one another, some teeth spilling out onto the mat. Ciampa lunges forward and Headbutts Danhausen in the gut causing him to hunch over. Ciampa swats the jar away, spilling out even more teeth among the mat. He tries to get up but immediately buckles back down to a knee. Danhausen ends up grabbing his head and planting him with a DDT on a pile of teeth! He flips him over and you can see teeth lodged into Ciampa's head as the ref drops down to make the cover.
1 . . .
2 . . .
Ciampa kicks out! He rolls to the outside of the ring to get a breather but Danhausen has him right where he wants him. He exits out onto the apron and starts to sing Tequila. He moves in for the first kick but Ciampa expected this and catches his boot. He pulls him off the apron and Danhausen hits the back of his head hard on the way down! The former Champion uses this time to lean against the ring and get some feeling back in his leg. Danhausen is crawling over to the steel steps to help himself back up but Ciampa comes walking over with some evil intentions on his mind.
Tom Phillips: I don't like the way Ciampa is smiling right now.
Corey Graves: These pearly whites are what I'd rather see than that jar of disease Danhausen carries with him.
Tomasso grabs Danhausen's hand and places it on the steel steps. He walks up the steps and steps on it to keep it in place. He jumps up to stomp down on it but Danhausen removes his hand at the last second! He then Chop Blocks Ciampa behind the knee and he falls back to the floor! Danhausen climbs back onto the apron and once again begins to Tequila Kicks! This time Ciampa maybe got a bit rocked from his head hitting the mat and just eats the full force of the kicks until he finally lets out the "dadadadadadada! Danhausen!" followed by a big kick to the head! Ciampa goes down but the Intercontinental Champion picks him up and rolls him back into the ring to make the pin.
1 . . .
2 . . .
Ciampa kicks out at 2! Danhausen gets back to his feet and claims that it's nap time. Ciampa slowly rises up and Danhausen scoops him up onto his shoulders. Ciampa starts to fight back with some elbows to the side of the head that stun the champion enough for him to fall behind him. He ends up picking him up from behind and bringing him up onto his shoulders. He's struggling to not put so much weight on the bad leg but simply flips him out right away into an Argentine Facebuster! He rolls him over to make the pin.
1 . . .
2 . . .
The Champion kicks out! Ciampa brings him up and hooks both arms, getting ready to end things already. Danhausen however rotates out while keeping a hold of an arm and brings Ciampa in for a Short Arm Clothesline. Ciampa doens't let go and so Danhausen goes for another but Ciampa just absorbs it and shakes his head at him. Danhausen goes for a third Clothesline but Ciampa catches his arm. Ciampa moves in for a Headbutt but Danhausen remember's this offense from the last time they squared up and he leans back and flips Ciampa over with a Monkey Flip! Ciampa rushes back to his feet and runs back at Danhausen but the champion scoops him up and gives him a tatse of what it's like to be Very Nice, Very Kneevil! Ciampa goes down and Danhausen makes the cover!
1 . . .
2 . . .
Ciampa kicks out!
Mauro Ranallo: The title may not be on the line tonight but Danhausen still has something to prove here tonight.
Corey Graves: The only thing he's proving to be is ineffective. CM Punk has put down many a wrestler with that move but Danhausen hasn't done the same to anybody.
Tom Phillips: Pepsi Man may have perfected it but just you wait Corey, one of these days Danhausen will get the win with one.
Danhausen picks up Ciampa and hooks both arms, setting up for the Goodnighthausen. The former Champion rushes forward and backs Danhausen into the corner where he gives him a few more Shoulder Thrusts. With nowhere to go, Danhausen is at Ciampa's mercy as he gives him a Sicilian Barrage of slaps and knee strikes until he falls to a seated position. Ciampa walks to the adjacent corner and seems to be second guessing whether to try for this again but decides fuck it. He runs over and this time connects with a Running Knee Strike to the face! Ciampa isn't nearly done though. He picks up Danhausen and seats him on the top rope. He then climbs up to the middle rope and lays him over his back. He leaps off the middle rope to give him and Air Raid Crash from the second rope! He stays lean on him to make the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
But NO! Just before the ref can make the final slap on the mat, he glances over and sees Danhausen's foot on the bottom rope! Ciampa gets up and argues with the ref a little but realizes he needs to end things right now. Danhausen meanwhile has rolled underneath the bottom rope but this just makes Ciampa smile. He reaches between the ropes and picks up the Intercontinental Champion, bringing him in through the middle ropes, hooking his head. Danhausen realizes the trouble he's in and quickly pushes himself forward to get fully into the ring to avoid the Widow's Bell. He pushes Ciampa all the way to the middle of the ring but Ciampa starts hammering away at his back and causes him to go down to a knee. Ciampa switches things up and instead hooks the arms but Danhausen breaks through and instead grabs his waist, flipping him over into a Northern Lights Suplex! He does not keep the bridge in though and instead rolls over to the ropes.
Mauro Ranallo: Both men look like this match has taken a lot out of them.
Corey Graves: C'mon Ciampa, I thought you were better than this!
Tom Phillips: It just goes to show that Danhausen is no joke.
Corey Graves: Are you even listening to yourself? Ciampa just needs to be more ruthless. Go take is head off!
Both men get to their feet at about the same time. They look at one another but Danhausen starts to slowly lift his hands to curse Ciampa. Tommaso moves in and grabs his fingers. Danhausen shakes his head no but Ciampa starts to bend them back! Danhausen falls to his knees saying mercy but Ciampa gives him a Knee Strike right to the face! Danhausen is dazed and Ciampa quickly hooks both arms and sends him down to the mat with the Fairy Tale Ending! He makes the pin!
1 . . .
2 . . .
3 . . .
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, Tomasso Ciampa!
Ciampa sits up and grabs at his leg. He proved his point but not without some lasting damage. He looks down at Danhausen and gives him two taps on the chest for the well fought battle. Wardlow comes out from the back and helps him get to his feet but Ciampa says he's got it. He limps out of the ring and heads up the ramp as the show moves on.
The titantron switches from the Bad Blood graphic to a live feed from one of the concession stands in the hallways around the arena. It must be up in the nose bleeds because there really isn't anyone around. A father and his young son walk up to the register to place their order. When the adult man speaks, it's with a Churchill-esque English accent.
Father: Hmm. Yes. Hello. My handsome son and I would like to purchase two popped corns- one buttered, one non- and a brace of your finest diet colas. Rather. Indeed. England! For you see, in cheering on the athletic sporting contests, we have found ourselves to become quite, um, yes, quite and rather famished. So for our constitutions, we've embarked from our arranged seatings to come upon your humble confectionary wheretofor we might purchase vitals, per chance. Hm. Indeed. God Save the Qu - or rather, quite, God Save the King!
There's something not right about this guy. His grey hear looks like the re-purposed powdered wig of a judge, stuffed haphazardly under a top hat. His clothing belongs to a bygone era's bygone era - like he's dressed to wave off the Titanic rather than attend a pro wrestling event.
The cashier takes one look at them and sees right through it.
Cashier: Give it up, Moondog. I'd recognize that bullshit scouse anywhere - I know you thought you burned them all but I've seen your sex tapes and I will never... ever... forget that about them.
The cashier reaches over and yanks off the hat and the wig, revealing that the gentleman father is, in fact, investigative reporter Moondog LeCavlier!
LeCavlier: Draft! I mean... shit!
The cashier then glances down at his kid, who doesn't look much better. It's the opposite of when two people stand on top of each other and wear a trench coat to appear to be a very tall person. The son looks like someone crouched up knees-to-chest in side of an poor child's yellow rain coat.
Cashier: Jesus Christ, Jones. I've seen you stoop low but this is bad, even for you. Those strawberry ice cream stains better have been off that jacket when you stole it from the orphanage.
Jaytherious J. Jones, the Godfather of Cutthroat Journalism, stands under, unbuttoning the rain coat on the way and the folding it neatly over his arm.
Jones: I was gonna give it back when we were done... Scoops McCallahan!
The Cashier discards her own disguise. Sure enough, it's ol' Scoops under there.
McCallahan: I saw you pencil-necks coming a mile a way. You thought you could slip one past me, huh? Fat chance.
Jones: Fat chance? I hear that was nickname freshman year.
LeCavlier: Before the corrective surgery.
McCallahan: Yeah, well too bad there's no surgery to fix your tiny limp dicks, you abject sexual failures. Now tell me, what in the name of Pulitzer's Prize do you bathwater drinkers think you're gonna find here that I couldn't?
LeCavlier: We just followed the clues from Summerslam, you seven-headed beast of the apocalypse.
Jones: Which, of course, led us straight here.
McCallahan: Naturally.
LeCavlier: Naturally.
Jones: Naturally.
McCallahan: Well I hate to be the one to peanutbust your parfaits, but there's nothing here. Either it was a bad lead or Invisible Stan got here first. For heaven's sake, he could still be here. There's just no way to know.
LeCavlier: No offense, you glorified copy editor, but why don't you stand back and let the real pros have a once over of the crime scene.
The fellas brush past Scoops and start poking around the concession area. Moondog snaps some pics while J.J. produces a magnifying glass with which to inspectigate the area.
Jones: Yeah, you might've missed something well you busy with your girl problems. Ya know, like periods and stuff.
McCallahan: Fill your boots, jagoffs. I'm telling you there's nothing - oh for fucks sake, here she comes.
Jones: Here who co -
He finds his answer when he looks up to see Yikes Carumba skipping down the hall towards them.
LeCavlier: How does she always know?
Jones: She probably just follows the smell of fish bones and bottom shelf hair product.
Jaytherious shoots Scoops a knowing side eye. Like she cares. She wears her musk like a badge of honor. Yikes then arrives on the scene.
Carumba: Hey gang! Any new clues yet? I know how much you guys loooooooooooove clues.
Jones: Actually -
Yikes cuts him off mid-sentence.
Carumba: Wait! Hold that thought! My braces are tingling! I can feel a RUMOR coming on!
Yikes rubs her braces sensually. Her eyes roll back into her skull and her voice drops an octave with the prophecy of some hot gos.
Carumba: DID YOU HEAR THAT TREVOR LEE IS SLIPPING IN THE POLLS IN BID FOR RE-ELECTION AS MAYOR OF HARLON, KENTUCKY? RECENT DESTRUCTION OF LOCAL PROPERTY BY THE HANDS OF CO-WORKER ASIDE, ONE SOURCE CLOSE TO LEE TOLD US THAT HIS BEST FRIEND - A SO-CALLED BUTCHER - WOULDN'T KNOW A MEAT HOOK FROM A HOOKER! WHAT OTHER LIES IS HE TELLING HIS CONSTIUENTS?
Yikes' eyes and voice go back to normal and she starts typing the "news" into her phone. Scoops stares at her unblinkingly.
McCallahan: You terrify me.
LeCavlier: Is that... is that what you came all the way up here to tell us?
Yikes looks up from her phone and laughs, the glean of her braces catching off the lenses of her brand new glasses.
Carumba: What? No, silly. I mean, I like being this high up when I'm going parachuting - that's my favourite hobby - but I actually came up here - wait, I mean WE actually came up here to give you guys your invitations!
Jones: Invitations? To what?
Yikes doesn't answer, instead turning around, cupping a hand to her mouth, and calling out.
Carumba: Oh Rhi-Rhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
Rhino and Heath Slater enter the shot now.
Rhino: Gore.
Rhino hands Jones a few envelopes as Jones hands the extras to Scoops and LeCavlier.
Heath Slater: The big guy and Yikes are taking the plunge, baybay! And you’re all invited!
Skepticism is etched on the faces of the detectives as they talk amongst themselves. The gang huddles up, looking down at the invitations with their backs turned to the betrothed and their pal who has kids.
LeCavlier: This invite says it's a cash bar. There no way in hell I'm shelling out to turn a bad night into a good time.
Jones: Why's Rhino's hair always wet? I bet you ten bucks it gets caught in that chick's braces when they go to seal the deal at the alter.
LeCavlier: We need an excuse to get out of this. What's a plausible reason all three of us can't be there?
McCallahan: Three of us? It's every man for himself, Moondog.
Scoops spins around, the other two follow suite, but it's Scoops who's quickest to the draw.
McCallhan: Listen Yikes, as much I appreciate -
She's interrupted by the chiming of Yikes' cellphone. Of course she doesn't keep it on silent. Carumba reads the text and giggles, her brand new glasses bouncing around all the while.
Carumba: Eeek! Rhi-Rhi, look! Our first RSVP!
The War Machine leans over to see who it's from.
Rhino: Gore.
Carumba: Leave it to Palmer Canon to be on the ball! He's so professional!
Record scratch! The journalists exchange shocked faces. Of course nobody has seen or heard from Palmer Canon since Wrestlemania when he disappeared after being implicated in a conspiracy to take out the Invisible Man alongside Invisible Stan.
Jones: Wait... you're getting texts from Palmer Canon?
LeCavlier: And he's going to be at your wedding?
Carumba: Yep! We're getting married on Slammiversarry weekend so that all of our friends don't have to travel! But what were you saying Scoops?
McCallahan: Oh... I uh... I was just gonna say that we wouldn't miss it for the world.
Carumba: Well shine my braces and clean my glasses, that's great news!
Rhino: Gore.
Carumba: Love to stay and chat, but I got more sclusie invites to give out! TTYL!
Yikes, Rhino and Slater head off down the hall, leaving McCallhan, Jones and LeCavlier the scratch their chins / real moustaches as they ponder what this could be leading to at the next pay-per-view. Bad Blood rolls on!
The fans' eyes are drawn upward as the Steel Cage that has been suspended above the ring all evening finally begins to descend.
It touches down on the apron with a foreboding thud. Excited murmuring around the arena then turns to cheers when a familiar tune blares through the speakers.
Buzzard comes out from gorilla hands in the air as he mimics a spy glass, He searches the whole crowd before throwing his arms and moving forwards towards the ring.
Leyton has his arms out high in the air taking in the atmosphere of the arena before stepping through the door of the cage as the crowd keep chanting "Who are you" at the UWF Stud.
When the southern alt. rock hit "Ain't No Rest For The Wicked" starts playing throughout the arena, the fans' excitement is turned into scorn as out struts the man best known either as the mayor of Harlan, Kentucky or as the current UWF Television Champion, one mister Trevor Lee. Stepping in time with his brand spankin' new theme song, Trevor Lee is given a showcase of the "respect" that the fans have for him, as a cacophony of jeers rain down upon the champ, with them quickly amplifying as Lee stands at the top of the entrance ramp,
As Lee makes his way down the ramp, he has that sinister, serpent's grin put on full display as he looks out around at the gathered crowd, pamphlets focusing on his re-election in one hand, while the other clutches on oh so tightly to his precious "Harlan Gold". Offering out the pamphlets like candy, Lee doesn't bat an eye as a majority of the fans either toss them on the ground or rip them up, as his focus remains on simply basking in his own entrance.
Once at ringside, Lee opts to take the long road, striding to the hardcam side with that damned devilish grin on his face. Stepping up towards the door, mister Trevor Lee once again stops to look out to the crowd, using his newly-freed hand to clutch onto the ropes while keeping a firm grip on the UWF TV Title with the other, before then perking up to his feet. Finding his footing, Lee would point two fingers up to the sky, his eyes closed and a beaming smirk on his face, as he calls out how he's bringing both his in-ring and political game "TO THE MOON!"
With both competitors now in the ring, a tense staredown ensues while Tony Chimel makes the announcements from the outside.
Chimel: The following contest is a Steel Cage match and is for the UWF Television Championship!
Introducing first, the Challenger, weighing in at 200 pounds, from Bristol, United Kingdom... Leyton Buzzard!
And his opponent, weighing in at 220 lbs, he is the current UWF Television Champion, and would like to ask everyone in attendance to go vote for his re-election as Mayor of his hometown of Harlan, Kentucky...Trevor Lee!
The Referee raises the title belt high in the air to let everyone know what's on the line. He then hands the strap to the outside while before the door is shut up. A quick hand gesture signals for the bell and with that, we're off to the races!
VS
DING DING
The bells sounds and the fans are just a'buzzin in anticipation of what may well be the culmination of one of the most vicious and violent feuds in recent times. Champion and Challenger exchange lethal sneers - there's only air and opportunity between them, with four chain links walls comprising the venue chosen to settle this dispute. Trevor clenches his hands into fists. The plucky Buzzard cocks his hands up, ready for a fight. He shouts at the Mayor to bring it on. Lee springs into action.
But not towards Buzzard.
The TV Champ makes a B-line straight for the cage door. He practically spears his way through it, damn near knocking it off its hinges as he scrambles for sanctuary. Of course the UWF Universe boos the ever loving heck out of him for the cowardly tactic. Buzzard ain't having it either. The Brit dives after him and catches a boot to hang on to to keep his foe from escaping.
Ranallo: Lee is looking to get out of there A-S-A-P!
Phillips: Pretty unbecoming of a champion. The guy talks a big game but when it actually comes time to fight, his belly is as yellow as it gets.
Graves: Cram it, Phillips. You don't even know what you're talking about. It's a crime that the Mayor of Harlan was put in this situation in the first place. Buzzard belongs in an actual prison for what he did to the beautiful town of Harlan. I can't believe Trevor Lee is being subjected to this farce.
Lee claws at the apron, pulling himself out far enough to get a good grip on the corner of the cage. Buzzard advances his position as well, working his way up from the ankle until he's got a bear hug around the legs. Despite his desperate efforts, Trevor finds his hopes of a quick victory altogether stymied. He is forced to abandon the early escape to focus on ridding himself of the Bristolian.
To that end, Lee turns his attention backward and manages to wriggle on leg free. He uses that to send some brutal boots into Leyton's heads to shake him off and push him back. Buzzard recoils, moving down the leg he still has a grip on until he's just holding the ankle again. He then stands up and uses the added leverage to drag Lee back towards the center of the ring.
The TV Champ tries to halt that progress by hanging on to the ropes. Leyton uses that against him when he takes the other leg and flings his opponent up into the air like a clean sheet about to be folded. Lee flies into the sky before getting dumped unceremoniously right back on to the canvas. The Official shuts up the door behind him.
Phillips: Now Buzzard has Trevor Lee exactly where he wants him. This isn't just about winning a title, it's about settling a score.
Ranallo: Indeed, Tom. These two superstars have been at each other's throats for months. Tonight, they go to war in the sixth cage match in Revolution history.
Graves: There's a reason these kinds of match are so few and far between, Mauro. This is as dangerous as it gets. The steel can break bone in impact. The jagged corners where the chainlinks intertwine can catch and tear flesh without warning. And if these men should try to climb the sides, it only gets worse.
Lee is writing in pain on the mat. Buzzard just stares down at him for a moment, thinking back on every wrong this man has done to him. You can see the hate bubbling up in his blood as the veins in his neck throb and his face goes furious red.
Trevor starts to stand and Leyton is right there to meet him. He lands a stiff right hand to the temple of the Mayor that leaves him wobbly. A second jab puts the Kentuckian back down on the ground. Buzzard towards over his foe while he crawls towards the ropes. The Contender comes in with the assist, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck to pull him back up to a vertical base.
The Mayor of Harlan shoves him off and bolts across the ring, scrambling up the far turnbuckle then heading up the cage wall like a terrified squirrel. More boos from the crowd. They want some just deserts for this dude. Buzzard is happy to serve them just that. He gets a hold of the back of his opponent's tights to cut off the attempt and then slams him back down to the canvas with something that looks more like bailing hay that an actual wrestling maneuver. Lee crashes into the canvas and groans in pain, eyes squinted shut.
Ranallo: Lee is in a world of trouble early on here.
Phillips: I think it's worth noting that The Butcher is barred from the arena tonight. I'm sure that even with the cage, we would have seen Andy Williams try to interfere. Fortunately, he isn't even in the building.
Graves: Which is ridiculous, in my opinion. Would you ask Floyd Mayweather to fight without his cornerman? Would you ask a team to hit the field without their coach on the sideline? It's ridiculous.
Lee rolls over on to his stomach. His eyes dart from side to side in a wild frenzy until finding the cage door. Like a lost ship at sea heading for the north star, Trevor pulls himself towards that safe Polaris. He's wounded, though. Slow. And Buzzard's right there.
The Brit cuts him off with a stomp across the back of the shoulder blades. Lee is flattened out by the blow and rolls towards the ropes. Leyton follows him there and watches him use the cables to pull himself up again. The Contender seems to be reveling in what he's reduced his opponent to, but doesn't play with his food too much. There's work to do.
Once Trevor is kneeling and hanging off the second rope, Leyton reaches down, takes the back of his head and shoves his face into the side of the cage. The crowd "oooohs" as he drags the mayoral mug back and forth across the chainlink like he's grating cheese. Lee screams out in pain as he gets massacred by the steel structure.
Graves: No! How can he campaign is his face gets torn to pieces?
Phillips: Trevor Lee has bigger problems than worrying about election season right now. His reign as Television Champion might very well be over in a matters of minutes if he can't turn this around.
Ranallo: Typically we see this title defended in regulation wrestling bouts. This time of extreme aggression harkens back to the reigns of men like Marseglia and Havoc. There are Monster's Balls and Hardcore Matches a plenty in this belt's bloody history.
Once Buzzard's ha his fill of tormenting Lee, he pulls him away from the wall and up to his feet, then doubles him over with a harsh knee square to the abdomen. With Trevor winded and folded up, the Contender tucks his head and plants him down hard with an Implant DDT!
Lee might dang well be out cold at this point. Buzzard rolls him over and tries his hand at a pin, opting to settle this definitively in the ring rather than escaping the cage. The Referee slides in to count it...
1...
2...
Trevor rolls a shoulder up at two. The fans groan, but Lee doesn't seem discouraged at all. He sits up, looking as determined as ever to put his rival away.
Philips: Lee might have kicked out, but he's all but unconscious at this point. Why isn't Buzzard heading for the door?
Ranallo: I think because he wants the satisfaction of hearing that three count. He doesn't want to leave any question about who the better man is. For Leyton, it isn't about escaping this fight, but finishing. The cage is to keep his opponent in and interference out, and that's it.
Graves: If he's that foolish then he doesn't deserve to be Champion.
Buzzard stands up as the crowd start to chant his name. He nods, letting them know he hears their support. Bending over, he grabs a handful of that greasy hair and pulls Lee up to his knee. The Mayor is all but dead weight now. Leyton glares down at him, eyes full of judgment. Lee looks back, his own eyes glazed over until the sight of the man that burned his home church down seems to ignite something in him.
Lee shoots an arm up and catches the Challenger right where it counts with a blatant low blow!
Jeers come raining down from al sides of the arena. The Official is visibly disgusted but is powerless to penalize the Champ. Lee's dazed expression slowly morphs into a satisfied, punchdrunk smile, though that doesn't last long before the rage fizzes up again. Buzzard collapses on the mat beside him, clutching his junk and gasping for air. Lee simply scowls down at him, considering him with the same kinda vitriol you'd show a nail stuck in your tire.
Graves: See? Buzzard's hesitation just cost him big time.
Ranallo: I'm sure he wasn't expecting a fair fight, but he let his guard down for a second and that was enough for Lee to find an opening.
Phillips: Does this man have no shame?
Graves: "Shame" is for contenders, Phillips. So what if Buzzard is a "good" person? Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and get the prom queen.
Lee takes a fistful of hair to drag Buzzard up to his feet. Leyton's having a hard time getting there and staying balanced - even more so when Trevor flings him full-speed across the squared circle. The Brit careens across the canvas to hit the far cables. They have some elastic give, but can't get the full flex in before coming into contact with the cage wall. Buzzard slams into the chain link, which knocks him back towards the middle on rubber legs. The Champ meets him there with a jumping high knee strike right to the face!
Leyton goes down and Lee falls right on top to make the cover...
1...
2...
Buzzard shoves him off definitively after two! There's still some pep left in the kid.
The Mayor seems to take that personally, however. He turns his head and spits - not very southern gentleman of him, but this isn't a time or place for gentlemen. He grabs a hold of the Ref's shirt and uses the third man to help himself up. The Official pulls away and chastises Lee, but there isn't actually anything he can do about it. Trevor mostly just ignores him as he bends down to pick up Leyton.
Locking his hands around the Brit's waist, he musters up the strength to pry him off the canvas in one smooth motion, impressively hoisting him high into the air before delivering a devastating deadlift Gutwrench Suplex! He drives Buzzard into the mat with extreme prejudice, folding him up like a lawn chair upon deliver. The fans gasp in shock at the sight of it. Lee keeps stays in the position he ended with to effectively make a cover. The Official begrudgingly goes down to count it...
1...
2...
No! Buzzard pops out before it's too late, although this time it was a lot closer. Too close for comfort, even.
Graves: Here we see the power game of Trevor Lee come into play. He isn't the biggest guy on the roster, but pound for pound I'd wager he's one of the strongest. Buzzard, on the other hand, relies on a lot of high-flying, particularly with the help of the ropes in a sort of hybrid lucha libre style. That doesn't translate well at all in a cage match. Aggression got him an early advantage, but I really don't see a path to victory for him now that the Mayor is back in this fight.
Ranallo: Excellent insight Corey, even if it's something the fans at home aren't going to like hearing.
Phillips: Yeah but lets not forget that the only reason Buzzard isn't still beating the tar out of Lee is because of that low blow!
Lee gets to his knees, takes a deep breath, then looks over his shoulder towards the cage door again. He would have liked to secure a pinfall, but unlike his opponent, he ain't too proud to just walk away. Trevor stands up and starts off in that direction, but doesn't get far before the tenacious Challenger reaches up and grabs his tights to pull him back.
The Television Champ turns back and swats the hand away like a pesky fly. He then pulls Leyton to his feet. Buzzard catches him by surprise, having a little more fight left in him that Lee expected. He takes a wrist and flings Trevor towards the turnbuckle furthest from the door. Lee spins on approach so that he crashes into it back first.
Buzzard follows him there, headhunting with a running lariat. Trevor dips out of harms way in the nick of time so that Leyton drives himself into the corner post. He recoils, winded, ribs possibly bruised. Lee then scoops him up and lands him in a seated position atop the turnbuckle. Climbing up on to the intersecting center ropes, the Mayor reaches one arm through the legs and one over the shoulders. He steps to the top cables while lifting his opponent horizontally across his chest. Precarious though the situation may be, Lee optimizes hiss off-balanced-ness as he leans into it, falling backwards and jumping off at the same time to fully rotate both himself and the other guy through the sky with a backflip before landing down with a Fallaway Slam type press done in the style of a Spanish Fly.
It's a stupendous maneuver he calls the Collision Course - ordinarily reserved for a counter to an oncoming opponent. Tonight, Lee's founds a new use for it, and with Buzzard smeared out under him like a squashed bug, it might be enough to end the match. The Referee comes over to count the pin...
1...
Ranallo: After a move like that, I'd be surprised if Buzzard didn't have a collapsed lung or a ruptured spleen.
2...
Graves: It's all over but the crying, fellas.
Buzzard kicks out just before the third count!
The crowd explodes, awed by the truly remarkable resilience of the British Underdog. Lee rolls off and scoots away, horrified. He regards Buzzard's twitching body with the mortified awe of a Catholic priest at his first exorcism. There's no believing it or accepting it or stomaching it. It's an insult. It's a bad miracle.
Lee continues to scoot himself away from the resurrected body of Buzzard, inching himself towards the exit. Its not even a conscientious attempt at escape, he's just trying to put some distance between himself and Buzzard as he puzzles over how this kid is still in the fight.
Phillips: Lee looks like he's seen a ghost.
Ranallo: It could well be muscle memory alone - sheer instinct that had Buzzard kicking out of that extremely high impact assault. But it was enough. These two have been through a lot, but I don't think Trevor was expecting this kind of fight from Leyton Buzzard.
When his retreat has his back bumping into the ropes, Lee snaps out of it and cranes his neck to see the door right behind him. He takes a deep breath then uses the ropes to pull himself to a standing position. He's had enough. He barks at the Referee on the outside to open the door so he can leave. The fans are booing again. This isn't the conclusion they wanted. The Mayor doesn't care. He steps through the ropes and on to the apron, ready to win this thing the easy way.
"I burned down your church."
Somehow, the almost-whispered words from Buzzard cut through the cacophony of jeers to reach the ears of the Mayor of Harlan. He turns back around - slowly - blood boiling. Leyton is up to his knees. He doesn't have the energy to chase Lee down. All he has now is the reminder of his actions, taunting and haunting the man from Kentucky.
Lee heard him. He isn't confused. He knows what was done and what was said but he squints at Buzzard as if to ask "did you really just say what I think you said?" Leyton doesn't hesitate to repeat himself.
"I burned down your church."
Trevor steps back through the ropes into the ring. The Official manning the door if baffled, slowly shutting it behind him with a confused shrug. Buzzard manages to get himself back up to his feet while Lee offers him a new expression - a hair trigger scowl, daring him to say it one more time.
"I burned down your church you son a bitch."
That does it. Trevor Lee charges across the ring like a wild effing animal. He clobbers Buzzard with a running forearm to the side of the head that would knock the teeth out of most men. Leyton tips to one side but isn't afforded the privilege of falling over, as the Mayor clocks with with a left hook from the other direction to get him back up straight.
Lee then uses his lef had to hook the back of the head for some dirty boxing, feeding in shots with his right to an opponent who's too beat up to fight back. Boom! Blammy! Kabam! Knuckles crack against cheek bone and forehead and even neck and ear when then unhinged rage compromises aim.
Graves: This is turning into a massacre. I wouldn't be surprised if the Referee just shut this down.
Ranallo: Unlike in the UFC, UWF cage matches aren't typically ended by Official intervention, even when they inevitably go off the deep end.
"SAY IT AGAIN" Lee demands in between punches as the shots begin to slow from sheer exhaustion. "SAY IT ONE MORE TIME YOUR BRISTOL-BORN BASTARD!"
Buzzard turns his head, one eye swelling shut already. He spits out a mouthful of blood and a chunk of molar with it. That doesn't stop him from cracking a wry smile as he repeats himself.
"I burned down your church."
Lee clocks him again with a sledgehammer of a haymaker. This one knocks Buzzard out of his grip. The Brit stumbles back and lands hung up on the top rope, arms stretched out on either side to catch on the cable. It's the only thing keeping him up. Well, that, and the attitude. He spits out another glob of blood.
"I burned down your church... and you couldn't stop me."
Furious doesn't even begin to define the way Lee's feeling now. Irate doesn't cover it. Incensed, enraged, fuming - they all fall short. This anger is like the blistered smoke of a soul turned inside out, reeking of sulfur, burning like acid at the touch. It's so far beyond rational that its inhuman - there's an unevolved survivalism at its roots like it's an animal's fight instinct dialed to eleven. And yet, only a man who observes tradition and has elevated values and belongings to a hallowed degree could find the motivation to reach this absurd breed of breaking point. It's that creeping, caustic shadow that was always in the corner of the Mayor's eye, buried under pomp and circumstance, obscured by smiles and handshakes on the campaign trail. Now it's drenching him like sweat, splashed over his face, soaking up into every fiber of muscle necessary to throw hands with the illest intentions imaginable.
Trevor keeps swinging. Keeps landing. But Leyton won't stop.
"I... burned... down... your..."
Lee can't take it. He pops off with the killing blow, looking the break jaw with this next hit. It's a homerun swing, thrown with reckless abandon. And it's exactly the one Leyton was waiting for. He ducks underneath - some might say collapsing - and gets down under Lee to roll him up for the pin!
Phillips: Buzzard with the roll-up!
Graves: WHAT? NO!
1...
2...
Lee kicks out right before the third count. Big sigh from the fans. They thought that might have been. They hoped. They wished.
Trevor scrambles out of his opponent's grip and reach and gets back up. Buzzard is a bloody mess, not so quick to the draw. Still beside himself and then some, Lee stomps back over towards his foe like a bear coming at a wounded deer. He yanks Leyton to a vertical base but is so focused on causing some harm that he never sees a knee to the guts coming.
The barrage of strikes seconds earlier already had him spent for air. Whatever was left in his lungs gets coughed up when the shinbone hits the solar plexus. With some stunning hand speed, the Brit wraps one of the Mayor's arms between his legs while slapping on a half-nelson with the other.
Ranallo: Could this be it? Leyton chased this move all throughout their match at Summerslam, but in three attempts, couldn't land it.
Graves: Lee had him scouted from a mile away so -
Corey doesn't have time to finish his thought. He and the rest of the world can only watch on as somehow, someway, the brutalized British sensation conjures up the constitution to hoist his opponent up into the air, turn him over once he's there, and then drive him back down head-first into the mat!
Phillips: BUZZARD DRIVER! BUZZARD DRIVER! BUZZARD DRIVER!
Ranallo: MAMIA HE HIT IT! HE FINALLY HIT IT!
Trevor is crumpled and smashed, as dilapidated and destroyed as Harlan's house of worship. So bombastic is the delivery of Buzzard's best move, though, that Lee is sent rolling away a few feet upon delivery. Leyton reaches out to make a cover but there's nobody there!
The fans are crushed. Buzzard claws himself forward, the full weight of his injuries choosing this moment to take their toll. It's al he can do to keep himself from passing out from the beating he's taken, or the blood he's losing. But he won't give up. Not now. He's so closer. And closer by the second - the precious few of which he has to capitalize are slipping away.
Ranallo: Buzzard is mere inches away from scoring the pinfall that will win him the UWF Television Championship - a title that has launched the careers of men such as Vinny Marseglia and Aleister Black. This could be a life-changing moment for the young superstar. All he needs to do is get there!
Phillips: Come on, Leyton!
With every person in the arena cheering him on and chanting his name, Buzzard continues the impossible trudge forward until finally he's within arm's reach. Lee hasn't move. There's a trickle of blood spilling out the side of his lip. He's ripe for the picking. Leyton shoots forward with one last burst of energy and lands on top of the Champ to make the cover...
1...
No sign of life from Trevor Lee. No way he's kicking out. All he can do is turn his head to the side...
2...
Lee hawks a mouthful of blood right into the Referee's eyes as he leans in close to make sure the pin is there. The third man recoils, temporarily blinded by the grizzly drool shot all up in his face. It's a disgusting sight, but even more revolting to the capacity crowd is the audacity of the Champ, who has found a heinous way to stay in the fight.
Buzzard lets go of the hooked leg and just stays lying on top of Lee, spent. His best shot just came up shy. Once again, the snake found a way to slither out of his grasp.
Graves: Trevor Lee gets the job done. Say what you will about the man, but if I were a resident of Harlan, he'd get my vote, because I could rest easy knowing that no matter what, he'd find a way to keep his word, even if it meant getting down and dirty.
Ranallo: Never in all my years of calling combat sports have I seen something like that. I might be impressed if I wasn't absolutely sickened by the sight of it.
Eventually, Buzzard rolls off. For a long time, he just lies there, sprawled out on the canvas, staring up at the lights. He would be prime for a pinfall if Trevor Lee were in any better shape. The Mayor is still down and out as well, though. While the Official is busy clearing out his eyes so he can continue to do his job, both competitors are stuck in the same place there last match ended. They've spent months, and more specifically, the past ten minutes or so beating the holy hell out of each other. The river's run dry. The well's empty. There's nothing left to give. Except something has to. One way or another, something has to.
It's Leyton who sits up first. He half-rolls, half-crawls towards the closest buckle. It happens to be the one by the door. He uses each rung of the turnbuckle to climb back to his feet. The Referee standing on the floor outside offers to open the exit for him. He's offering a way out. Leyton considers it. Why not? It's right there.
But no. Not like this. He shakes his head. That's not how he wants to end the reign of Lee. He doesn't want to walk away from this man - he needs to put him down. Buzzard slowly - gingerly - as best he can with a concussion and bruised ribs and who knows what else - to face the action again. He sees Trevor Lee in the far corner. The Mayor is also using the post to his advantage in finding a vertical base.
Time slows. Now both up and on their feet, the bitter rivals exchange exhausted glances. Lee what's between him and the easy way out. The anger that erupted out of him moments earlier has all been poured out. What's left is the innate instinct for self-preservation. He shakes his head at the confounding Contender and turns his back to him, stepping up on to the ropes so that he can start the long climb to the top.
Phillips: Lee is looking to escape the cage! Surely Buzzard could beat him to the floor if he just went through the door!
Ranallo: There's just no way he's going to do that, Tom. That's not how he wants to win. That's not what this match means to Buzzard.
The fans are pleading with him to just walk out, but Buzzard refuses. Not yet. He isn't satisfied.
Limping across the canvas, Leyton reaches the opposite corner just as Lee steps from the top of the buckle to start his ascent up the cage wall. Buzzard reaches up to grab him but grimaces when his injured ribs prevent him from fully extending. He's forced to climb up in pursuit instead.
Fortunately for him, Trevor isn't going anywhere fast. It takes the Mayor damn near a full minute to pull himself up on to the top of the cage, where he sits straddled. Lee looks down towards the arena floor, which seems so much further away now that he's up there. Vertigo has him fascinated - transfixed - paralyzed. He gawks at the climb down long enough for Buzzard to catch up. The Brit climbs up beside him and punches him in the side of the head.
Lee starts to tip over towards the outside. Leyton won't let him go. He catches the Mayor and sits him back upright, leaving him open to a huge return shot. Lee's knuckles crack off of Buzzard's jaw, knocking him off balance. It's a bridge too far. Buzzard's taken too many shots to the head. He tilts towards the ring, but as he's falling, he vaults his legs up on to Lee's shoulders.
Ranallo: A Frankensteiner from Buzzard?
Graves: There's no way! They won't survive it!
Leyton wraps his legs around Lee's head and leans back as he falls, but Trevor wraps his fingers in the chain link to brace himself. Buzzard is shaken and falls to the ring all on his own, slamming hard into the mat right by the ropes with a deadly thud. The arena gasps then goes eerily quiet.
So quiet, in fact, that his busted up mumble floats all the way up to catch Lee's attention.
"I... burned... ... it..."
That's all he can manage, but it's enough. Lee leans back, stares up at the heavens, then flings his feet up on to the cage wall. With a crazy in his eyes, with clenched teeth, with the wrath of god in his heart, Lee jumps off of the cage, coming down like a thunderbolt with the Coup D'état!
Ranallo: MAAAAAMAAAAA MIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH~!!!
Graves: OH MY GOD!
Buzzard rolls out of the way! Lee doulbe-foot stomps nothing but ring! The wood shatters from the impact as he leaves a crater in the mat! The fans jumps out of their seats! They can't believe it!
Leyton sits up and sees the damage. Trevor Lee is half-buried in a destroyed ring, chunks of crippled wood and torn canvas obscuring the full calamity of it all.
That's it. That's enough. He's satisfied now.
Buzzard turns his back on the finished Mayor and starts to crawl towards the cage door. The Referee on the outside swings it open for him. The fans are screaming his name, cheering him on, letting him know they have his back, that he's their dude, and that he's won this war. The Bristol-Born Superstar - the underdog of underdogs who never gave up, slowly inches towards his first UWF title run. He crawls through the ropes, mere inches from reaching glory...
DING DING
YOUR WINNER...
AND STILL UWF TELEVISION CHAMPION
TREVOR LEE!
Buzzard hits the floor just in time to hear the bell and the wrong name called out. He looks back up towards the Referee in confusion, and then to Tony Chimel. He doesn't understand. What's the matter? The Referee on the outside collects the TV Title belt and carries it over. Leyton reaches out to take it but the Official walks right past him and circles around the corner of the ring...
... where a cackling Trevor Lee is waiting with hands outstretched to take his TV Championship back!
Phillips: What the hell is going on?
Graves: Watch the replay, Phillips!
The booing fans turn to watch the titantron, where they see Lee climbing through the hole he created with his meteoric stomp. He went through the busted ring and under the cage wall, clearly beating Buzzard to the floor by seconds. Leyton looks up and sees it all play out in slow-motion replay as well. He leans back against the apron, demoralized, then straight up collapses as the adrenaline fades and the beating he took takes it's toll.
Trevor Lee uses the cage wall to claw his way up to stand. He holds his title belt up high overhead and lets loose a victory howl when he sees his rival all but dead at the base of the ring. "Ain't No Rest For The Wicked" plays through the arena but you can hardly hear it for all the hate the Mayor's getting.
Ranallo: Once again, Trevor Lee walks away with the UWF Television Championship. Buzzard took the win at Summerslam via disqualification. Unfortunately for the Brit, Lee found a way to out-fox him again here tonight at Bad Blood.
Phillips: I can't remember a steel cage match as brutal or as personal as this one. The UWF Universe must be heartbroken over this loss for Buzzard. He came so close.
Graves: Not close enough. Trevor Lee would do anything for his community just like he would do anything to hold on to that title. There isn't a man like him on this roster and he just proved that to Leyton Buzzard. Emphatically.
EMTs rush down the ramp to check on Buzzard. Lee marches right past them, belt slung over his shoulder. The mask is back. The smiling politician has returned with the victory - at least for now. He continues up towards the stage while the cage is raised back into the rafters and Leyton is given some serious medical attention. Bad Blood rolls on!
We cut to the backstage area where Sami Zayn is already in a conversation with Kayla Braxton.
Kayla Braxton: Sami there's no time for an interview, the main event's about to start and-
Sami Zayn: Oh is the main event about to start? Why not just continue to give all the tv time to two guys who don't know when to shut the hell up. I'm only the greatest wrestler of all time, why do I need a minute of promo time.
Kayla Braxton: Glad we agree on something.
Kayla starts to walk away but Zayn quickly leaps in front of her and brings the mic back up to his face.
Sami Zayn: Nah ah ah! I guess Renee isn't the only one who needs to go back to journalism school. I am literally the hottest wrestler on the roster right now both in terms of momentum and pure sex appeal. I am hitting all five quadrants in the demo according to my Tiktok statistics. I'm what the kids call an influencer. I got the whole world eating out of the palm of my hand. Who cares what a bunch of losers in the crowd think of me. I get dozens of comments on every Tiktok I make and the numbers are only going up, just like my career. Think about it Kayla, after Edge gets done with Shark Boy, who's next in line? I don't see CM Punk anywhere. Seth Rollins just got made a fool. Batista had a shot but he just lost to that piece of human garbage Eddie Kingston who I beat two weeks ago. There's no one even close to my level and I know EC3 knows that. So go run off and do what you've got to do. I'll be keeping an eye on the main event because Edge or god forbid Shark Boy, this is your future.
Zayn lets go of the mic and Kayla walks away as Bad Blood rolls on!
Tony Chimel: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the UWF Championship! Introducing first, the challenger...
GIVE ME A SHELL YEAH!
The cowbell begins to tap before the guitars come in to signal the arrival of UWF's resident 'Shellraiser'. Nazareth's 'Hair of The Dog' blasts over the PA system as Shark Boy wastes little time in marching out from behind the curtain full of piss and vinegar, he's mouthing off to everyone and anyone in his immediate path. The crowd at ringside reach at Shark Boy but he maintains his focus on the ring stomping his way down the ramp continuing to mouth off the entire way down the ramp towards ringside.
Tony Chimel: Introducing, from the Deep Blue Sea, weighing in at 205 pounds... SHARK BOY!
Shark Boy stomps up the steps and through the ropes into the ring, he makes a b-line for the corner where he heads to the top rope and throws out the fin-salute to the crowd before throwing his two fists high into the air for all the Shark-o-holics out there. Shark Boy repeats this at the three other corners before taking off his vest and waiting for the bell to sound.
Chimel: And introducing the champion...
YOU THINK YOU KNOW ME
A familiar phrase echoes throughout the arena, leading into the opening bassline of Headlong Flight by Rush and with it, a chorus of boos. However, as each instrument joins into the song, smoke begins to fill the stage and before long, a figure walks out from behind the stage into the smoke. No bounding from one side to the other, Edge moves slowly, like a predator taking in his surroundings in order to best pounce on his prey. The crowd is not shy with their disdain for the Ultimate Opportunist, showering him in boos as he stalks down the ramp. Halfway down, he pauses, crouching low, his face contorting as he bares his fangs and in one motion, uncoils upwards, his hands held high with devil horns as pyro explodes behind him.
As the pyro finishes exploding, Edge slowly brings his head back to level and walks towards the ring. Only a few steps away, he runs and slides into the ring and as he moves towards a turnbuckle to pose and soak in more hate and boos, the ring announcer chimes in.
Chimel: Hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 240 pounds. He is the Ultimate Opportunist, and the UWF Champion: Edge!
VERSUS
DING DING!
The bell rings and Shark Boy rushes Edge, taking him to the canvas for a full mount and just raining punches down on the reigning and defending UWF Champion. The sudden onslaught catches the opportunist off guard and he scrambles to cover up, but not before eating a few of those blows. The official gets in there, then starts a five count. The shellraiser pulls back at four and a half, leaving Edge to roll out of the ring for a reprieve as he shakes off the daze from the assault.
Tom Phillips: Ladies and gentlemen, we're just getting underway here in this UWF Championship contest and already we can see Shark Boy is taking the offense to the UWF Champion.
Corey Graves: That psychopath has been nothing but offense this past month. He broke into the UWF Champion's home for God's sake! And somehow he got sprung from jail in time to make this match. Our potential next world champion belongs behind bars!
Shark Boy rampages around the ring before stepping up on the bottom rope and calling Edge to get back in. The Ultimate Opportunist signals for the ref to force some separation before he'll come up on the apron, and the official does so, so he climbs up and enters between the ropes. Shark Boy comes lurching at him before the official again interposes himself, demanding the challenger let Edge re-enter the ring. He steps off, circling like – well, a shark, when there's blood in the water. Edge then completes his entry to the ring, and as soon as his feet touch the canvas, Shark Boy rushes him, looking for a forearm. But Edge has it scouted now, and he ducks low before sweeping the leg, sending Shark Boy neck-first into the top rope! Shark Boy is sputtering as Edge rolls him up!
1...
...2...
...NO! Kickout at two and a half!
Mauro Ranallo: Edge is known the world over as an opportunist and he very nearly seized an opportunity to put this one to an early finish there by capitalizing on an offensive misstep from the challenger.
Graves: I'm telling you! Shark Boy is a total loose cannon! I should've expected Edge would out-think him.
The two men are right back to their feet and they just meet in the middle of the ring for a total donnybrook! They're throwing lefts and rights like it's NHL '95 and the gloves have been dropped. Sooner or later, Edge is spittin' chiclets after taking a nasty hook from the Shellraiser, but then he executes a picture perfect knee lift that doubles Shark Boy over, grabs him by the tights and shoulder, and spins him around before sending him outta the ring! Shark Boy lands with a thud on the floor outside the ring, but he gets back to his feet and starts heading back toward the squared circle, when Edge comes through the ropes with a suicide dive!
Ranallo: TOPE SUICIDA!
Phillips: Edge is going for the full mount!
Indeed, that Rated R bastard is looking to do a little ruthless ground and pound, his fists coming on in a flurry even as the official starts up the count. The UWF Champion's eyes are as buggy as they've ever been, pure psycho territory as he just wails on this man who has pushed him to his mental limit. This is a no holds barred slugfest, folks. It's all Shark Boy can do to cover up and weather the storm. When the ref hits six on the count, he shouts to the men to get it back in the ring. It's only then that Edge hauls the challenger up and rolls him back in under the rope, then climbs onto the apron. The Ultimate Opportunist glares at Shark Boy, then grabs the ropes and slings himself over into a classic leg drop! He transitions to a cover.
1...
...2...
...NO! Shark Boy gets a foot on the rope at two!
Edge grumbles about this and rises to his feet, bringing the challenger with him. He sends the former DMR off the ropes and bends over for the back body drop, but he catches a toe to the shoulder for his troubles and shoots up to standing, only for Shark Boy to toe kick him to the gut and deliver a Chummer that pops the crowd so hard the roof damn near blows off the place! Shark Boy parades around the ring, running his mouth and hot as shell before he drops down to all fours and gets right in Edge's face, talking no end of crap. "You better believe that I just kicked your bass!" He caps it all off, before making the cover. The fans are right in there for the count, too!
1...
...2...
...NO! Kickout just after two!
Phillips: What?
Ranallo: Mamma mia!
Graves: Yes Edge! Get up! Kick his ass!
Shark Boy rolls away, hands clawing at his mask in sheer disbelief. The fans thought it was over too; they kick up a holy shit chant. And then, something even more insane happens. Edge kips up! He scrambles for Shark Boy, but the challenger bails the hell out of the ring, dashing around that squared circle as though expecting chase. But Edge laughs, dropping into a squat and motioning for Shark Boy to come back in the ring. He's lining up the Spear like he's Captain Ahab just waiting to harpoon Moby Dick. Shark Boy steps up onto the apron and starts stepping through the ropes, and Edge tears off at him, but then Shark Boy pulls back and once more, the official interposes himself, urging Edge to back off and let his foe back in the ring. Edge laughs, tugging at his hair and half-crazed, but the momentum he build from kicking out of the Chummer is all but lost now as the game falls back into more cerebral territory. Shark Boy's eyes narrow, and he raises a hand, calling for a test of strength.
Ranallo: Well, the proverbial gauntlet is being cast: Shark Boy wants to see who the real big fish in this UWF ocean is once and for all, the good old fashioned way!
Phillips: You have to wonder how he thinks he wins that way. Edge has an obvious strength advantage.
Edge tugs his hair and looks to the fans as if imploring them for some kind of answer. He's met with a loud, Daniel Bryan style "YES!" chant. The Ultimate Opportunist looks back at Shark Boy's raised hand and sets his jaw, then nods. He raises his own palm, and the two men take tentative steps toward one another. One. Two. Three. They lock hands, then Edge brings up his free one. Shark Boy locks in. They start jostling for superior position. Edge twists Shark Boy's wrists outward. Shark Boy wrenches back.
Graves: What the Hell, Edge. Just Spear his ass!
The two grit their teeth, growl and grasp for the upper hand, literally. And then Shark Boy locks eyes with Edge. Edge locks eyes with Shark Boy. Both men struggle. It's like the Cold War. The Austrians and Prussians. The Spartans and Persians. For a moment, all time stands still and the fans collectively hold their breath, waiting to see who will emerge from this battle of might.
And then Edge just straight up headbutts Shark Boy, causing the challenger to stumble. He follows up by releasing a hand, and clutching the forearm of the hand he still has trapped, and pulls him into into a shoulder block, releasing the arms and letting him fall to the canvas. As Shark Boy tries to sit up, Edge surges forward and unceremoniously boots him on the masked face, then laughs and spits on his writhing body, before heading to the corner and dropping into that squat. Everyone knows what's coming.
Philips: I guess honor is out the window!
Graves: He's nicknamed the Ultimate Opportunist, you doorknob! What, did you expect him to play nice?
Ranallo: He said it rudely, but Corey's got a very good point, Tom. In the words of a former colleague of ours, that was Vintage Edge!
Shark Boy is slow to get back to his feet, dazed from the boot to the face and the headbutt that came before him. You might say he'd had his bell rung. The official moves in to check on him, and Shark Boy stands, trying to adjust his mask so he can see right before turning toward Edge...
...who launches out of the corner looking for the Spear! He darts faster than a tomahawk missile at Shark Boy, but Shark Boy has it scouted and dives the h*ck outta dodge! Unfortunately for the ref, there's now nothing between him and the heatseeker tearing across the ring, and Edge LEVELS the official like he's a bulldozer and it's the caved-in wall of a derelict building. Edge doesn't even realize what he's done until he goes for the cover and sees the pinstripes. He practically rips his hair out when he does, rushing to his feet and straight into another toe kick as Shark Boy goes for the Chummer again! But Edge shoves him into the ropes! Shark Boy rebounds and comes right back at him looking for a lariat, but Edge makes the best of the bad situation, dropping down to one knee and delivering a low blow that uses all of Shark Boy's rope-propelled momentum against him. His balls probably invert with the impact. He goes down like a sack of bricks. The fans boo louder than Democrats would if Donald J. Trump rolled up at one of their rallies.
Ranallo: What an absolutely despicable move by the Rated R Superstar!
Graves: The way I see it, Shark Boy threatened Edge's family, so now Edge is taking it out on Shark Boy's potential to have a bigger family. All's fair!
Edge moves in, grasping claws sinking into the fabric of Shark Boy's mask as he starts to tug at it. The challenger tries to push his hands away and preserve his anonymity, looking to keep that damn mask on his head. But he's still in pain from the low blow, and a stomp to the gut from Edge just makes him wheeze. Edge rips the mask off, then, but he doesn't expect what he sees next.
There's Shark Boy, formerly Dean Matthew Roll. But instead of seeing Mr. Roll, he stares at something else, dumbfounded for a moment. The fans fall silent as they too do not recognize the man underneath the mask. His head is shaved, his face is painted and he twists his neck to the side.
It's a big ol' pregnant pause. And then: Pffff!
MAMMA MIA!
Mauro exlaims as Shark Boy spits a mist in Edge's face! The Ultimate Opportunist claws at his eyes and screams in pain. The fans pop at the blatantly illegal display as Edge falls onto his back, thrashing about. He rolls over to his hands and knees and tries to wipe the mist out of his eyes but Shark Boy, or whatever was underneath the mask grabs onto him and places him in a Peruvian Necktie! Edge is stuck in the middle of the ring and has no leverage. He can't even see how close he is to the ropes due to the mist but it doesn't matter as it doesn't take long before his body goes limp and the ref calls for the bell!
DING DING DING!
Tony Chimel: Here is your winner, and the NEW
UWF CHAMPION: SHARK BOY!!!
Graves: No! He cheated! Replay! Replay!
Phillips: The Ultimate Opportunist was just outplayed by the sly antics of Shark Boy – if we can even call that painted-face, mist-spitting man in the ring that name anymore!
Ranallo: It's like Corey said earlier: all is fair...
The fans are applauding and cheering loudly as the Shellraiser celebrates his victory with a few clam juices tossed in to him from ringside. He also raises the belt, obviously, to another pop from the rabid crowd. Edge, meanwhile, is being tended to by emergency personnel as he apparently still cannot see as the show comes to its conclusion.
END OF SHOW
O'Reilly vs Rhodes - Leedles
Shark Boy vs Edge - Crann
Homicide vs Rollins, Ciampa vs Danhausen - Danny
Seven vs Austin, Batista vs Kingston - Gunn
Lee vs Buzzard, Ambrose vs Zayn - Fauche