Post by @whirlwind_LLC on Sept 2, 2019 8:24:30 GMT -8
Meet The Mastodon, The Saturn Boys, and what the connection is between them. Source: Southern Florida Wrestling.
Ozzy Osbourne’s “Hellraiser” swiftly interrupts the more modern sounds of Nelly and with that we’re greeted with the sight of one of the most imposing figures in the entire performance center. The Mastodon. His singlet was snug which accented his his toned, ripped figure, his arms as big around as the average skull. The light beamed off his shiny scalp as the man pumped his arms up and down repeatedly, seeming to say “MAS-TO-DON! MAS-TO-DON! MAS-TO-DON!” His walk to the ring was unnervingly calm, and perhaps the thing more calm was his reaction of feigned indifference to the Saturn Boys in the ring. The Mastodon merely snorted and rolled his shoulders back as the bell rang.
Gil Saturn points at his head, he knows he can outsmart this shallow minded brute, with that he ran right at The Mastodon, who caught the brash loudmouth on his shoulder, and drilled him to the mat with a scoop powerslam! Firmly pressing his body over Gil’s in the ring, referee Ivan Rex wasted no time in counting the lightning pinfall.
1!
2!
3!
Ace Manners: WHAT?! That’s it? It took longer to get them to the ring!
Mike Saturn wasn’t happy at all, he jumped onto the ring skirt to argue with Ivan who insisted he must have been on drugs or something. The Mastodon kicks Gil to the side and barks at Mike, urging him to come inside too. Now Mike, feeling smarter than his brother since he was a year older, knew he wouldn’t fall for the same trick. Cautiously he entered the ring and began to creep towards the powerhouse.
Ace Manners: I guess we’re having another match here!
Mike steps up, ducking underneath a wide and clearly telegraphed punch from The Mastodon, quickly slapping him on the return! Big mistake. Mike then tried to slide in behind The Mastodon and apply a rear waistlock, but the big man had other ideas with an elbow to the side of the face that rocked the older Saturn! Mastodon sent him into the ropes, then on the return he had a special present for Mike - a scooping powerslam of his own! The small, but passionate crowd in attendance popped for the big move to send the two overly confident Jersey Shore wannabes packing from the Southern Florida Championship Night!
Ace Manners: Wow. I don’t really know what to say here. The Mastodon, folks. He’s won his round and will be moving on to challenge the winner of the semi-finals and I think that’s gonna be my pick to win this whole thing!
*Later that evening*
Without warning, Gil and Mike Saturn make their way to the ring, this time they’re not empty handed. Gil had a steel chain and Mike had a light tube, which prompted The Mastodon to turn his attention to them! Mike slid into the ring first and swung the light tube at him, but The Mastodon instead grabbed it in his hands and pulled it away from Mike! Then with his knee he brought the light across it to break it just right in front of him! Mike was shocked!!
Ace Manners: Oh my God that’s not human! That’s...that only served to make him mad!
Mike then slid back out of the ring, but this time The Mastodon wouldn’t leave it alone. He slid out of the ring and, Gil stepped up to the mammoth of a man and whirled the chain at him. The Mastodon caught that too, ripping it from Gil’s hands! It was at that moment, Gil Saturn knew...that he *** up. The Mastodon let out a loud snort as he gave chase to The Saturn Boys right up the aisle and through the back.
Ace Manners: Good grief what exactly is happening here?! This looks serious, men are breaking light tubes on their thighs and monsters are chasing each other with steel chains...what did I sign on for?
*Later Still That Evening...*
We see Gil Saturn with a black eye and Mike Saturn with a bloody nose and a fat lip...as well as The Mastodon chained up tight to a lamp post! While he tries to struggle and use his freakish strength to break free, together The Saturn Boys take a cinder block and lunge forward, cracking it against the side of The Mastodon’s face! Of course this would knock him out, and The Saturn Boys - though looking like little more than a hot mess - high five each other for a job well done, before collapsing on the pavement...
At the onset of the bell, Mastodon charged straight ahead, bullrushing into both Saturn Boys with a double shoulderblock that took them down to the mat! Mike was the wiser of the two as he rolled to the outside while Gil wasn’t so lucky. Mastodon picked up Gil by the hair and threw him into the corner, followed by a repeating series of lariats in the corner; one, two, three, four – when Mike jumped onto the apron and aimed for Mastodon’s head with a double fisted sledge, but Mastodon ducked down and Mike clobbered Gil in the face!
Thatcher: That can’t be good for their brotherly love!
Gil stumbled out of the corner and right into a waiting Mastodon, who pounces on the smaller Saturn with a Lou Thesz Press! Punch after punch reined down until Mike finally entered the ring to deliver a basement dropkick to knock the big beast out of the clutch. Mastodon rolled back from the kick...and then sat up with a snarl! Mike sat up, looking on in horror at what he just likely induced!
Thatcher: That didn’t seem to do anything but piss him off…
Mastodon jumps up to his feet while Mike does the same, then with a pounce that would make Monty Brown jealous, Mastodon leaps into Mike with a barrage of fury-laced strikes! Mike’s inability to fight back sends him into defense mode as he frantically tries to cover up before being pushed back into the ropes. Referee Farva orders the man beast back to no avail, prompting his five count to begin;
1!
2!
3!
4 –
Gil Saturn breaks the count as he jumps into the fray with a lariat to Mastodon’s back! Mastodon lets out a roar of rage as he turns to Gil – which enables Mike to quickly grab the big man’s arms like he were being handcuffed!! Gil lays in a pair of gut punches intertwined with stiff knife-edge chops to the big man’s chest, seemingly slowing him down and subduing his rage.
Thatcher: The Saturn Boys did it question mark? Did they just slay the beast for Veronica?
Slowly, The Saturn Boys work The Mastodon down to his knees, Mike still holding him from behind while Gil, now, brings the pain with a pair of high (medium I guess) knee strikes to the face! Mastodon spit takes from the impact before falling face first from them. Quickly, Gil flips him over and the two of them make the pin;
1!
2 –
The Mastodon powers out!!
Thatcher: WOW! Run, boys…
Angrier than ever, Mastodon slaps the mat as he rises back to his feet, daring the Saturns to make their move. Gil runs right at him with a shotgun dropkick to the chest, into the ropes. Then off the other ropes, Gil rebounds into him with all his momentum, a vaulting body press – BUT MASTODON QUICKLY SIDESTEPS AND GIL FLIES THROUGH THE ROPES TO THE FLOOR, ALMOST NAILING VERONICA!!
Thatcher: Gil Saturn folks, looking like Alaska Airlines Baggage Claim…
Veronica jumps up on the apron and snaps at Mastodon, barking at him to look at her. She blows the beast a kiss then just as he looks toward her;
Mike quickly looks to capitalize on the distraction as he sails across the ring with a huge suuuuuuuuuuupppeeeeerrrrrrr kiiiicccckkkk to the face, knocking Mastodon into the corner! Veronica jumps down off the apron and Mike heads back to the opposite corner. He shouts out something inaudible before running right back at Mastodon, presumably for a finishing blow – BUT MASTODON DUCKS DOWN AND MIKE HANGS HIS LEG OVER THE TOP ROPE!
Thatcher: Uh oh…
But not to fear, Mastodon is here to “help” him free himself. First, Mastodn pumps both arms up and down, prompting the Gimnasio to chant along with him;
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
Then, Mastodon grabs Mike by the hair and waistline of his leather pants, pulls him back from the corner, then with a velocity unheard of from a man his size, spins him out with the “Mastobomb” (Deep 6 Powerbomb)!! Mastodon makes the sharp, crisp cover with a hook of the near leg while Veronica watches on, his eyes locked on the holder of the “Gulf Coast Championship”.
1!
2!
3!
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner as a result of a pinfall, and having earned the opportunity to challenge for Veronica Taylor’s “Gulf Coast Championship”. TTHHHHEEEE MAAAASSSTTTOODDDOOONNN!!!!
Ozzy’s “Hellraiser” emphatically takes over the sound system, much to Veronica’s worst fears being realized...
Mastodon emphatically releases the pin and stands up. Referee Farva holds one arm up, but the other motions around his waist, directly at Veronica. His eyes remained ever-fixated on his task at hand.
Thatcher: Wow, all I can say is wow! The Mastodon made a statement tonight, and I have no idea how Veronica Taylor will ever defeat this man, let alone save her little pink championship. This might be her demise…
Meanwhile, in unison, the entirety of the Gimnasio was firmly behind the man beast;
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“I tell you what!” One Bad Ass James Kelloggs says as the scene slowly fades in inside of the locker room of the Gimnasio Nuevo León arena, home of Whirlwind Wrestling. Joe and James are getting ready for their tag match later tonight and James is doing some stretches with some bands while Joe is standing looking out the window of the Gimnasio Nuevo León out over the parking lot lost in thought.
“That little bitch is gunna have a hard time finding himself a partner. Fucking no one is going to want to team with that whinny little bitch. We’ve got this! Straight up, we’ll teach him a lesson. No one fucks with us and gets away with it! You hear what they called us! Universal Gentlemen! Like that is a slap in the face or something. We fucking owned that shit hole and owned that name! Just like how we’re going to fucking own this place and that belt is going to be back around your waist in short order!” James rambles on about with his shirt off as he works out with the bands.
“Listen! Callaway ain’t going to know what happened to him till I take my fucking knee and smack him upside his fucking cocksucking lips! No offense. He is going to get the Bad Ass One taking him down to the mat and make him cry like the bitch that he is! I’ll hit him so hard that his lips will swell up like that black bitch on that movie you like, with the nerd who dances in those silly fucking moon boots.”
“Lafawnduh.” From Napoleon Dynamite fame Joe says.
“Yeah! Fucking Lafawnduh! Bitch had a set of lips on her and when it’s all said and done, when you win back your belt and we kick that fucker Callaway off to the side like a bag of trash, Fucking Callaway will be the white male version of her! Little bitch, fucking try and kick me, I’ll punch you in the balls and rub your face in your own piss and shit from the beating I’m going to give you.”
As James rambles on and on, Joe sighs. He checks his phone, checks his messages. He glances up from his phone and gazes out the window again.
In the background, James is acting out what he’s going to do to our Champion Callaway which it looks like trusting his crotch in his face and calling him a “Bitch”, following by smacking the side of his head several times and saying “Oh! You like that! Yeah I thought so! You fucking pig!”
Joe rolls his eyes and checks his phone again. This time swiping to his text messages, opening them and sending out a quick text……..
Backstage correspondent Nikki Mynx stood in front of a Whirlwind Wrestling logo banner with an ear-to-ear smile as she introduces her guest.
Nikki Mynx: Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me introduce another new signee of Whirlwind Wrestling, Hidekai Hideyoshi!
Standing to her right are two men dressed in suits, one considerably younger than the other. The lapels on their suit jackets are matching Japanese flags. The younger of the two men says a few words in Japanese, before the older gentleman offers a translation for Nikki.
Translator: Hidekai san, says he is excited to be here in Whirlwind Wrestling, and he can't wait to perform for our fans.
Nikki: How are you adjusting to the U.S. culture so far, Hideaki?
Nikki asks innocently before another individual with shoulder length black hair and dressed in an American flag patterned suit walks confidently through the scene and delivers a near deliberate shoulder to shoulder contact with Hideaki, forcing him to stagger back from the impact. Hideaki continues to stare insulted at the man's disrespect, a look of confusion and frustration on his face.
"You can call me Geoffrey Thomas Anderson, the Fifth. The only fifth generation megastar to ever grace this industry and the man whom will single-handedly put this company on his back and carry it to the moon. Bask in my glory, and revel in my brilliance."
Nikki: Mr. Anderson, I'm in the middle of an interview with Hideaki at the moment, but when I'm done I will -
GTAV: You dare put a man of MY caliber on the back burner? Do you know what my net worth is?! You fool! Do you even KNOW who I am? The office put out a newswire solely to say I was coming! Did they do that for this guy? Who's the more important one now!
GTA storms off the scene, a sign of over-confident swagger and perhaps a hint of animosity in his steps.
Nikki Mynx: But I...shrewd guy. Mr. Hideyoshi apologies for the interruption, please be sure that Whirlwind Wrestling is most happy to have you here. I can't believe some people would be so rude...anyway, on behalf of this company, I want to wish you the best of luck as you begin your career here in Mexico!
Nikki offers her hand to Hideaki as she turns to face the camera.
Nikki Mynx: Derrick, back to you at ringside.
The older gentleman slaps his hand to the back of Hideyoshi and makes a comment in their native language as the scene cuts.
Thatcher: Ladies and gents, this is one explosive contest I can’t wait to see.
Dead Elvi’s “Lucha Libre” plays to a loud pop for…
For…
The one…
The only…
Jose Sanchez!
Thatcher: The Gimnasio sure does love this guy’s heart, but tonight, I don’t think this will be his night…
He stood at the top of the aisle with his chest puffed out and the entirety of the Gimnasio encouraging him. Jose darted down to the ring with the quickness of a three-legged cat, before the Warrior Queen and Jacob rushed out behind him to waylay him in the aisle! Jacob kicked at the man’s face a couple of times before Alkaia finally picked him up and HURLED him into the safety barricade! Jacob let out a hearty horse laugh as Alkaia picked him up and HURLED him to the other barricade across the aisle! Jacob then went around behind Alkaia and hopped on her back, an arm raised as he rode his monster to victory to the ring where referee Farva ordered her to immediately ordered her to leave the ringside area.
A pair of EMTs rush out to tend to Jose while Jacob lounges in the corner of the ring, propped across the top rope like a hammock.
Thatcher:! Jacob! This is low, even for you! You never had any intention of fighting Jose here tonight. You just wanted the coward’s way out. You’re a snake! A slimey, slithering, cowardly snake…
Carefully, the EMTs begin helping Jose onto a stretcher while Jacob urges Farva to begin counting him out.
1!
2!
The EMTs begin carting the young fan favorite up the aisle to a deafening chorus of booes from the Gimnasio!
Thatcher: Folks, you hate to see things end like this, poor Jose, I hope he’s – waitaminute!
At the top of the aisle, Jose sits up from the stretcher! This prompts the Gimnasio to cheer and chant for their hero to the bewildered dismay of Jacob in the ring…
Thatcher: Jose, don’t do this. Think about your future, there’s no shame in being looked at professionally…
The EMTs try to push him back to the stretcher, but Jose won’t allow it! He stumbles off, and even with a limp he hobbles his way down to the ring. Jacob looked like he saw a ghost as Jose slid into the ring. Farva checked with him one more time, with Jose emphatically nodding his head that he wanted this!
Thatcher: Jose...I hope you know what you’re doing. For your sake.
Just as the bell rang, Jacob leapt from his perch like a cat on the couch, then into a twisting back elbow that caught Jose hard across the jaw, knocking him right down! Quickly, Jacob made the cover as Farva counted;
1!
2!
Jose kicks out!
Thatcher: YES! Go Jose!
Jacob looks up at Farva increduously. Again he goes for a cover, this time with a lateral press;
1!
2 – Jose kicks out!
“Unbelievable”, Jacob thought to himself. But it’s only a matter of time, right? Jacob grabs Jose by the hair, forcing him upright. He puts his finger in Jose’s face mocking him, belittling him…until Jose fires back with a stiff right hand across the brash movie star’s face! Another strike, and this crowd is practically eating out of Jose’s hand, their cheers louder for each landing strike!
“JOSE!”
“JOSE!”
Jose continued the onslaught with a kick to the gut followed by a spinning neckbreaker on Jacob, planting him firmly on the mat, followed by a quick cover;
1!
2 – Jacob barely kicks out before the two!
But Jose doesn’t let it get him down, he rises up first and stomps the actor for good measure. And another. Jose then hits the ropes and comes back, his fists clasped together as he drops a double elbow across the sternum of Jacob! Jacob reels in pain as Jose looks across the ring at the turnbuckle, then to the Gimnasio as if waiting for their direction.
“CLIMB!”
“CLIMB!”
“CLIMB!”
They all shouted at the rookie, to which Jose nodded as he marched to the corner. He climbed up the turnbuckle, ending with his feet on the second rope while sitting on the top. His knees buckled, this situation clearly not one of his forte, but with a deep breath he leapt off, plunging his elbow into the actor’s chest!
BUT JACOB ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY!
A heart-shattering depression fell over the Gimnasio for what looked to be Jose’s second wind. Meanwhile, Jacob managed to slowly pull himself ever closer to Jose, and groggily he throws his arm across Jose’s chest, prompting a count from Farva;
1!
2!
…
…
Jose kicks out!
“YES!”
“YES!”
“YES!”
Thatcher: Incredible, Jose is still in this thing!
Jacob sat up in more shock than anything – but so did Jose! In unison, the two climbed to their knees and traded punches, and then to their feet. Jacob went for the classic collar-and-elbow lockup, while Jose went low with a solid toe kick to the gut! Jacob doubled over in pain, and with the opportunity presented, Jose grabbed Jacob in a front facelock and drilled him with a DDT! But wait, Jose isn’t done! Jose, retaining the front facelock brings Jacob back up, to deliver a second DDT! BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE! Still retaining the front facelock, Jose again pulls Jacob up to his feet, this time he wraps Jacob’s arms back, and drops him with a double arm DDT! The Hollywood B-Lister is out cold, and with a rush of adrenaline, Jose drops down into a firm cover with a hook of the near leg!
1!
2!
…
…
…
…
…
Jacob barely rolls the shoulder up!
“THAT WAS THREE!”
“THAT WAS THREE!”
“THAT WAS THREE!”
But referee Farva holds up two fingers, insisting the count wasn’t a match ender.
Thatcher: Oh my gosh, Jose, finish this!
Jose pulls Jacob up one more time, but Jacob, looking out on his feet, grabs Farva’s shirt collar and pulls him into the grapple. Farva’s collision is enough to obscure his vision such that Jacob can kick his foot back, nabbing Jose in the crotch which doubles him over in pain. Jacob then moves around, draping one leg over the back of Jose’s neck, then spinning, driving him to the mat with the “Encore” (Overdrive)! Jacob practically collapses over Jose’s body as Farva counts the pin;
Thatcher: Damn it, not this way…
1!
Thatcher: C’mon Jose kick out.
2!
Thatcher: That sonavabitch!
3!
It was a moment that, to them, time would have stood still for. Hearts all around the Gimnasio sank as Farva’s hand slapped the mat for the third time. After such a career-defining fight, Jose Sanchez still, ultimately, fell victim to the obnoxious Hollywood movie star after all.
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner as a result of a pinfall…”The Official Michael Bay of Pro Wrestling”! JAAAACCCOOOBBBB!! HOOOTTTSTTUUUFFFFF!!
Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” reined down over the Gimnasio as Farva grabbed Jacob’s arm to raise, though the actor was still laid across Jose.
Thatcher: Talk about your heart wrenching stories, Jose fought so hard, against the adversity, against the sneak attack, he showed incredible heart in the face of the scourge of Whirlwind evil himself, but at the end of the day…well, I’m sure through his botched plan for an easy night, being in the fight of his life, this night tonight will be a night that Jacob Hotstuff will not soon forget either. Jacob was a very lucky man tonight, over a very game Jose. Folks, we gotta get these two checked out, meanwhile, check out this clip from our past.
While the EMTs were quick to arrive to tend to Jose, Warrior Queen Alkaia was just as quick to pick up her “employer”? She slung his body over her shoulder and walked to the back, leaving the ring to Jose. Jose, now standing up, received a standing ovation for his efforts as the EMTs helped him gently out of the ring and up the aisle.
Out at the merch table for Whirlwind Wrestling, with a sold out crowd streaming in, while most fans grab a drink and something to eat before finding their seats, some gathering around the merch table to pick up the latest merch and rumor has it that the signed Veronica Taylor poster and the newest Mad MAX tee are huge hits, but at this second, the table is being flooded by the under 10 crowd, all excited and so happy, packing themselves in as tight as they can to get close to, and get a selfie with the one!
The only!
Orgulloso Guardián Del Arcoiris!
“The Rainbow Warriors” and OGDA’s “Shining Stars” are so thrilled to see him. OGDA is busy high fiving and hugging his very dedicated fan base. So busy that he doesn’t see his phone buzzing away on the corner of the merch table.
But someone did.
In the midst of the chaos a huge fat chubby hand swipes OGDA’s phone to unlock it and it’s not password protected. The same chubby fingers tap on OGDA’s text messages and reveals a new message from one Joe Jones. Before we can get a good look at it, the chubby hands pick up the phone and a couple of seconds later, the phone is set back down on the table with a reply.
“Sure thing!”
After it is sent, and read, the fat finger that is not OGDA’s finger, then deletes the texts without OGDA ever knowing about it. But the children are so happy getting hugs and selfies with the great OGDA……
Baldwin Knight: Ladies and gentlemen, last month we witnessed, what I personally believe to have been a misguided mistake at-best, when an impromptu match between new signing Maria Montez and Jacob Hotstuff at Day of Judgment was ended prematurely after my guest at this time threw a white towel into the ring on Jacob’s behalf. Francine, it’s a pleasure to have you here with me of course, you’re looking well as usual.
He stood up to extend his hand to the wife of the MMA legend, MAX Danger, which she daintily accepted, before taking her seat across from the seasoned reporter.
Francine Danger: Thank you, it’s good to be here.
Baldwin Knight: I’m gonna jump right down to business, Francine. The question we’ve all been wanting an answer to since last month is “why’d you do it?” Jacob, for as good as he believes himself to be, has been anything but endearing to fans and athletes alike since his posh arrival to the company. Even you, you scolded him for his unsporting attack toward Lisa Lightning ahead of their match. I know I can’t speak for everyone, but most of the people on this roster were surely enjoying watching that actor turn forty shades of blue as Maria choked him out. Most of our roster...except you. He’s been nothing but disrespectful toward you on social media, he’s been downright aggressive toward your husband specifically, so you of all people I’d assume would gain the most satisfaction to watch Jacob “pay the piper”, so to speak, yet, it was you that showed him the reprieve to make the punishment stop. I, along with everyone watching at home...would love to know why.
Francine Danger: What, so because someone is a rude jerk to me and my loved ones that means I’m supposed to just accept and watch them struggle? I know I’m not a fighter, so maybe I don’t get the culture and all...but is it not more correct to turn the other cheek?
Baldwin Knight: Is that how you really feel? A man that has your husband so angry he’s ready to unload many right hands on him. A man that, from this reporter’s vantage anyway, is the sleaziest man in wrestling today. A man that hit another woman in the back of her head with a lead plate, and you would ‘turn the other cheek’? No, I don’t buy that Francine. You’re too nice of a woman for me to believe that you’d feel that way. All due respect, but I don’t think that’s what you really feel. Try again.
Francine’s face turned visibly red, she was clearly getting upset and she wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Francine Danger: I know you’re a freelance reporter...but who are you to even tell me what I’m thinking and am not thinking?! Like you can just sit across from me and try to put suggestions in my head based on what the societal norms are?
Unlike Francine, Baldwin kept a straight, cool, wall of stone demeanor.
Baldwin Knight: Hmm. You’re awfully defensive over something that was just a simple unbiased observation. But if you insist…
Francine Danger: Look, okay, I get it. Jake is a bit much at times, sure he comes on strong…
Baldwin leaned in, listening intently as it seemed his stern demeanor was enough to crack her open.
Francine Danger: And, I mean sure, like I said I do understand what you mean. But, Jake and I, and MAX, we have a history. We’ve been friends for over ten years now, so while I can’t approve of what Jake does...he’s still a close friend at the end of it.
Baldwin offers a sympathetic nod.
Baldwin Knight: That has to be really hard for you. To be stuck in the middle between the man you swore you’d spend the rest of your life with, and a close friend, knowing the husband and friend will probably never get along...I wish I could offer you advice there, but I can’t say I’ve really found myself in a similar situation.
Francine Danger: So now you’re a shrink? You ask me a tough question and then try to dig inside my head for some kind of inner conflict I’m wrestling with? And who made you a psychology expert? Where’d you get your degree?
Baldwin Knight: Francine, I -
Francine slammed her hands on the table, pushing herself up out of her chair.
Francine Danger: No. You know what, I thought you were different, Baldwin. I thought you weren’t gonna judge me but you’re just the same as any other news outlet. This interview is over.
With one fluid motion, Francine spun on her heel and turned out through the door,
Baldwin Knight: Francine, I didn’t mean to -
But she was already down the hall, leaving Baldwin Knight to himself, his scoop over before it could really begin…
Backstage in the Gimnasio halls the masked man himself, Pendragon stood wearing a black suit with a green tie to match the green trim on his mask tonight while a young African American man; the very same seen working at the Academia Internacional de Lucha de Pendragon during the video package at Genesis Wave stood next to him wearing a grey and black suit of his own. The man, yet to be introduced by name, seemed to keep his cool reasonably enough on the surface but there was a bright glimmer in his eyes; this was the big stage, the premiere promotion in all of Mexico, a country in which he has trained and resided in for close to a year.
Pendragon couldn't help but chuckle as he placed his hand on his student's shoulder in an attempt to reassure him.
But the people aren't going to expect perfection out of the gate; they want to see effort. They want to know that you're serious about giving it your all every single night. They want to see what's in your character when you face adversity, they want to see how you respond when things aren't going your way; do you remain true to yourself or do you start looking for shortcuts? But perhaps most importantly of all; they want to see this."
Pendragon taps to his heart with his free hand before tapping his student's chest as well.
"They want to see heart. As long as you give it your all you'll be able to hold your head up high, no matter what happens. You're going to be tested a lot throughout your career both as a professional and as a person and you will have to make some difficult decisions and some sacrifices along the way. I'll be here in case you need someone to talk to but at the end of the day you need to follow your heart."
The man nods as he soaks in his mentor's knowledge like a sponge as what could be as many as a million thoughts run through his mind; possible challenges, moral dilemmas, potential championship wins, losses, setback and triumph. Tonight was the night that his dreams would begin to turn into reality; this was it, he was here.
Suddenly the moment between mentor and student was interupted as a soft feminine voice echoed in the hallway, presumably nearby but just out of the camera's sight.
Pendragon pats Sean on the back as they begin to turn and walk down the hallway.
"You got this, Sean."
Thus begun the journey of Sean Tuoni, the very first graduate of the Academia Internacional de Lucha de Pendragon into the squared circle. Could he manage to capture lightning in a bottle? The future will tell in due time.
In the hallway leading towards the stage area is The Bad Ass James Kelloggs and Double J Joe Jones.
“I wouldn’t sweat this Joe! They can make all of the stupid fucking stips that want, but truth is, you won’t need another title match after this because in a few fucking minutes, we’ll make that bitch tap the fuck out and that belt will be back right where it belongs! Around your motherfucking waist!”
Joe stops walking and adjusts his white fur coat made from real rabbits and turns around and looks down on his pint sized partner.
“Look. I hate to do this. But you’ve got to sit this one out little buddy.” Joe says to James, who has a shocked look on his face.
“It’s a tag match, what do you mean sit this one out?”
“I found someone else.”
“Someone else?”
“Listen, I know you want to get your hands on Callaway as much as I do, but the stakes are really high and I can’t…..I can’t overlook the small parts of this match.”
James’s face gets red. “Motherfucker!”
“I know! I couldn’t help myself, but listen. When you get in that ring, Callaway is going to wind up that big boot of his and kick you into the middle of next week, and you’ll flinch, and freeze in place and it’ll be over. I can’t…..I can’t have that. I want my belt back. Who know who Stevie got for a partner. I had to get some muscles.”
“That is such bullshit! I’m not afraid of that little fucking bitch? Fuck that! His big boot doesn’t scare me one bit!”
“Really?”
“Fuck yeah! In fact! That bitch better ...AHHHHHHHHH!!!”
As James begins to state his case, Joe winds up and takes a couple of steps towards James and lifts his boot in the air to hit his own running kick on James, his drops to the floor and curled up in the fetal position. Joe stomps his foot on the concrete floor and looks down at James, who opens one eye and is pale white, frozen with fear.
“Sorry buddy. I had to replace you. Maybe next time, yeah?” Joe says before turning and continuing his way towards the ring.
James sits up in the middle of the floor looking so pissed off. “I wasn’t afraid. Honest! I wasn’t. You fucking bitch!”
We jump cut backstage to find none other than Hollywood Jesus himself, self-proclaimed "Michael Bay of Pro Wrestling", Jacob Hotstuff. He had a fresh towel around his neck and, for once, Warrior Queen Alkaia was nowhere to be seen. Jacob was breathing heavily however, having just fought the match of his career, or something like that, with Jose Sanchez.
"How dare. They. Force my secret weapon. From ringside." His breaths short and sparse as he desperately reached for a nearby bottled water.
"Jake?" A female voice called from down the hall. Jacob however, recognized the voice instantly. It was sweet, to him. Almost serene.
"Jacob, so you did come back. It's...good, to see you again."
"Francine..." He stood up, a vain attempt to act all tough and macho. "It's been a long time. Over a year since...you know, Triple Threat was when we last saw each other."
Francine Danger: Jake...what happened to you? I know, I saw...that match. Watching your body get burned alive, it was horrifying. But after, in Florida...who, are you?
Jacob had been a certified douchebag ever since his infamous inferno match with Pendragon, over a year ago. Some would call him crazy. He would go off about his "Blazin Brilliance", even going so far as to call himself the God-King of professional wrestling. He was out of control, he mocks God...
Jacob Hotstuff: Things change. When Whirlwind and The Knight Family ceased operations in twenty-eighteen, I wasn't done yet. I needed somewhere to go and unleash all my pent up frustrations on the world. They needed to see that I was the saviour of the silver screen...they needed to see that Hollywood Jesus was the future they couldn't deny...
Francine Danger: I know you and Maximillian will never be friends again, but you know you didn't have to leave. You're as much a part of our lives as we are your's. What did you have to prove? You're already a movie star, look at your catalog of roles. You've secured the lead role for the anticipated Sharknado VIII: Bigger and Toothier, set for twenty twenty-five. You didn't have to go to Florida. you didn't have to do anything. You could have stayed here, maybe flown to Hollywood to shoot your films. I just...
Jacob Hotstuff: You missed me? After all our history, you're the one to miss me?
Francine Danger: Jake, I --
Just about that moment, a towering shadow came into the shot, beside Francine.
MAX Danger: The hell you doin' round my wife, Jake? Get on...or else you gonna wish your scalp would get burned again.
Jacob Hotstuff: Oh, Maximillian, never change you big dumb ape. Fine, whatever. Some of us had to work tonight. Maybe next month you'll pull your weight around here too. Francine, we'll talk more...whenever.
Not wanting more trouble and having already had a match, Jacob left the duo to themselves.
Francine Danger: Max...could you...do you think you'll ever...?
MAX Danger: After what Jake did? To us? Nah. That man gonna catch these hands one day, mark my words. Your man ain't gonna retire 'till I get him in a fight.
Francine Danger: …
The “Olive Garden Club Mix” shoots out, causing a wave of confusion across the Gimnasio, although it was short lived as the source would make itself known sooner than later.
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen please welcome, Monte the Python and RUIN!
“BOOOOOOO!!!”
Monte the Python along with RUIN (both men wearing a set of black track pants with a green trim, and an Olive Garden t-shirt with a small WW LLC logo at the bottom of it) could be seen at the top of the aisle, Monte with a breadstick in his hand and RUIN with a stem glass half full of something, probably alcoholic. The two received boos as they headed down the aisle…
Thatcher: These two make me sick, these bitter, past their prime, or in Monte’s case - never had a prime - losers just can’t handle that there are better conditioned, more athletic performers in not just this company, but the world…
Monte was used to the lack of respect these people showed. After all, who was he but the gopher in the back, but one thing about Monte is he never let it get to him. He stopped for a minute and smiled, almost taking in the boos and jeers directed to him over his actions a month ago. RUIN on the other hand, didn’t care. His expression was one of blank apathy as he drank from his glass. The only thought on his mind had to be money, and where to get the next drink. Some would call that an alcoholic. RUIN would call that success. And, as long as he had that Whirlwind contract, he’d feel all the success he could dream of, win or loss, he knew he was getting paid...
Thatcher: Folks, collectively these two have dubbed themselves the ...sigh… “Meat Sauce Mafia”, and they’ve demanded this air time tonight to talk about why they did what they did. I’m sorry.
By now, the two had reached ringside. RUIN set his glass on the apron and carefully pulled himself in under the bottom rope, making sure not to spill his drink. Monte however took his sweet time walking up the steps, stopping to take a bite of his breadstick, then again after climbing to the top of the turnbuckle with an arm raised triumphantly, as if he had pulled off a monumental feat. He remained for a moment longer as he just took in the atmosphere of recognition, and success.
RUIN: Listen up, ‘cuz I just got a somethin’ to say. What you hicks just saw, last month, was domination. WE just pissed all around this company to mark it as our own! WE showed who runs this place, with our mouths, and our money. And in case you too stupid to figure it out...money talks. Just look at my downside guarantee, I make more to stay home, than another would get to smash a guitar on someone else’s head…
RUIN winked at the hard cam, then passed the mic to Monte.
Monte the Python: Look ‘ere, ain’t nobody payin’ no dollars to see two guys slap fight over respek. So you can thank US, for savin this whole dang show, and givin’ yo asses somethin’ to bitch about on the internet for a month. Way I see it,
Monte takes a bite of the breadstick, down to about the ¼ left of it.
Monte the Python: Yawl the ones that owe US a thank you for, services rendered. We saved yo behinds from havin’ to watch two guys hug it out. The office ain’t even want me to go out there, but I did what I did, ‘cuz I’m a man, and ain’t no pencil pusher gonna tell me wut to do no mo’. Nah. I ain’t the one. Way big money Monte sees it, we run this place now, so yawl betta get used to seein’ my name ‘round here, ‘cuz I ain’t goin’ nowhere. And ya kno big bad RUIN and I, we gonna take that bling bling title too, don’t even argue ‘cuz you can’t even deny!
Monte handed the mic back to RUIN, whom took another drink to finish his glass before continuing.
RUIN: That’s right! Whirlwind Wrestling is where the big boys play...so all you little kids just sit back and let the MEN do business! Tell your friends...RUIN and Monte are the guys to beat…
Monte hovers over the mic with RUIN.
RUIN & Monte in unison: And the Olive Garden, is the place to eat!
Thatcher: Oh my gosh. And they probably just made a commission just by mentioning the restaurant name on live pay-per-view too…
The two obnoxious, borderline drunks share a massive chest bump when…
“Karma” by Kamelot begins to play in the Gimnasio stopping the Meat Sauce Mafia in their tracks. As the song begins to pick up Pendragon emerges from the back, seeming shedding his suit from earlier for his ring gear, the green highlighting the dominance of black throughout his attire. The crowd cheers and Pendragon lets them have their moment, much to the chagrin of the Olive Garden duo as he stood on the stage.
Pendragon: And here I thought Olive Garden was running a special promotion tonight, right here in Monterrey, Mexico...
Pendragon flashes a thumbs up as the crowd gives him his cheap pop as the Meat Sauce Mafia couldn't look any more annoyed if they tried.
Pendragon: I always wanted to say that; you'll have to excuse me this once. You know, I smelled Olive Garden's breadsticks and some of their endless alfredo pasta sauce but instead all it was the grease stains on Monte's pants and some of the leftover sauce spilled all over RUIN's shirt.
RUIN goes to check his shirt as Monte's eyes glance over his pants, his hands lightly dusting them off.
Pendragon: It's easy to talk a big game; say how you're going to do this and piss all over that but when the chips are down and the lights are bright it's like the two of you never show up. I don't mean physically in the literal sense; I'm sure everyone at Paco's Taco Shop three blocks away can hear these people booing you out of the building, no, but these mythological versions of yourselves that you try to sell to these people and lie to yourselves for a quick ego boost never seem to step out of that curtain. I mean take RUIN; the guy with the worst temperament south of Washington, D.C, he's the first to make every unreasonable demand in the book... and he's often the first shown the door and blacklisted for it, all because he believes he should be given everything before having to earn it. Or how about Monte, the Python, how about you, Monte? Running papers back and forth and running the company’s media accounts; well... I mean that as your job title anyway. But don't let ole Monte fool you; the guy would look for any excuse in the book to offload his duties to a young intern while playing Runescape on company time and taking three hour lunches at Olive Garden all while trying to get his hands on that Endless Pasta Pass. I can only assume the powers that be caught onto your act, otherwise you'd still be in the back collecting an easy check for minimal effort.
Monte the Python: So what if I did? You and MAX; yawl both got yo asses handed to ya during yo little hugfest!
Pendragon: Anyone can catch somebody from behind with the element of surprise; cowardice requires very little effort. It's easy to talk the talk but can you walk the walk? Can you back up your words with actions when they matter most? I could dissect and analyze the two of you all day, I could muse about your collective insecurities and your moral deficiencies; your need for attention in a pursuit and an attempt of self-validation, even the metaphorical masks the two of you wear to try to keep your fragile illusions of self in tact and hanging by a thread. But; I realize that'd be an exercise in futility; you've both given up on yourselves and you can't help a man that doesn't want to help himself. It's not a language either of you understand or want to... but if you wanted a fight; all you had to do was ask. But hey, don't take my word for it…
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell what was next. Metallica’s “Seek and Destroy” blasted the ears off the Gimnasio with a deafening pop for the only dual-sport athlete in Whirlwind history, MAX Danger! But, where was he? The music played for another minute or so with RUIN and Monte looking around nervously, but there was no sign of MAX.
RUIN: Where’s your boyfriend at, little boy?
Monte the Python: Don’t think that foo’ is here. Probably got scared after the way we embarrassed his behind last month! But if ol’ Mr talks-too-much is lookin’ for a fight…
Suddenly, the tense vibe in the Gimnasio roared to life again as the ring mat began to open. From under it, a big, dark, angry man was quickly pulling himself up…
Pendragon: You might want to turn around…
Just on cue, the two of them turn around right into a HUGE right hand from MAX! The punch clocks RUIN right across the jaw, while Monte backs the hell up like a scared little puppy.
MAX Danger: Man, y’all talk way too damn much, thought we was gonna fight tonight?
Thatcher: MAX Danger, always the man of impeccable timing, haha.
Monte’s complexion turned as pale as could be in the face of the underground mixed martial arts legend, and it was all he could do to backpedal his way out of the ring. Without falling over his scared, trembling little knees!
“Man, forget you, punk. Tryna come creep up on the Meat Sauce Mafia like that!”, Monte yelled half inaudibly with no mic.
MAX Danger: Yo, anytime yo sorry butt is feelin’ it, you just come find me lil bitch. We’ll square up and I’ma make sure yo ass don’t ever get involved in my business again. And as for you, Pendragon...the pleasure is mine. We’re gonna have our fight, we gonna see who the better fighter is...and it sure as hell ain’t Monte the Bitch!
Pendragon nodded on the outside while Monte dragged RUIN out under the bottom rope to help his Mafia brother from ringside.
Thatcher: There it is. Folks, I’m getting word that next month at our October show, All Hallows Eve, the Meat Sauce Mafia is going to get a chance to prove all their words here tonight, when they take on the team of Pendragon, and MAX Danger. I for one, cannot wait to see Monte get in the ring and go face to face with either of these two men. Hope your life insurance is paid up, Monte!
Joe Jones, and the masked hero we know and love BESTER – err, I mean Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris were all smiles in the ring. OGDA looked genuinely happy, while Joe’s smile was one of a certain mischievous victory. After dumping the world’s smallest badass for the night in favour of the unstoppable juggernaut of smiles and positivity, his plans had finally come to fruition.
Thatcher: Like him or not, you can’t help but admire the ingenuity of Joe Jones here tonight. OGDA’s strength is unmatchable and James Kelloggs has shown prior to be skittish of Stephen’s Calsi Kick. I’m sure their friendship is strong, but Joe is doing business tonight. He’s got all the focus in the world on becoming the first ever two-time IWC; and there’s nothing anyone will do to stop him.
Cold’s “Remedy” plays to welcome out the reigning IWC, Stephen Callaway. With the Championship proudly sat atop his left shoulder, he produced a mic with his right hand to address his people.
Stephen Callaway: So Joe Jones seems to have it all figured out. He had a friend, he even pulled the last minute bait and switch, and it would seem my days as the champion are numbered. As you can see, I’m even alone right now…
“BOOOOOOO!”
“YOU CAN DO THIS!”
“DON’T GIVE UP!”
Callaway smirked at the chants before slapping the faceplate of the beautiful Championship.
Stephen Callaway: It would be easy to admit I’ve been out-smarted and defeated by the intellect of Joe Jones. And while I may be strong, I’d be foolish to enter the ring alone to face the mammoth that is Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris and try to match strength…
Thatcher: What is he saying? I’ve never known Stephen Callaway to give up!
Stephen takes the title from his shoulder and begins to lay it on the aisle at his feet. But, just as he unfolds the second strap, he stops and looks up at the ring, locking eyes with Joe Jones direct.
Stephen Callaway: But...I’ve ALWAYS, got an angle. And I dug down deep when I was looking for the perfect partner to defend my Championship with. And it wasn’t until I made an eleventh hour phone call to one of my best, most trusted friends, that I knew I could count on…
With both fingers pointed back to the curtain, Lil Troy’s “Wanna Be a Baller” surprised the Gimnasio, and Joe Jones alike, to see the man who would be Stephen’s partner;
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen, the International Whirlwind Champion Stephen Callaway and the “Epitome of Epic” making his return to the squared circle for the first time in four years...B. Epic, they are; EPPPPIIICCCC!!!! ANNNGGLLLLEEEE!!!
Thatcher: For the first time since...oh my God, since the Kingdom of Pride in 2010, B. Epic and Stephen Callaway have joined together for one more match!! Look at Joe’s face!
Joe was dumbstruck! Amid all his planning, contingencies, and contingencies for his contingencies, Stephen Callaway had the angle that he never could have imagined!
Stephen and B. Epic shared a double high five before retrieving his Championship from the aisleway then finally making their way to ringside. The two split to the perpendicular corners then in unison, jump from the floor to the ring to a loud pop.
Thatcher: Amazing. Nine years later and their chemistry is still on point!
Joe rolled his eyes, feigning an unimpressed demeanor. Nothing was gonna stand in his way of reclaiming HIS Championship tonight and to prove it, he was gonna start this match off himself. On the other side was Stephen and B. Epic doing rock paper scissors to start the match, with Callaway losing so he’d take the ring first.
Thatcher: Here we go folks, our second main event of twenty-nineteen and it would start off with two day one Whirlwind performers, fighting over the right to own the richest prize in the history of this company; the International Whirlwind Championship.
Joe made the first move as he leaned in close, but it was Callaway that took his arm and whipped him to the mat with an arm drag. Joe hit the mat and sprung back up, with Callaway again slinging him to the mat with a second arm drag! This time Joe slapped the mat and got up slower on his own terms, first to a knee and then his feet while Callaway went back to the well – but this time Joe ducked behind, wrapping his arms around Callaway’s waist in a rear waistlock. Callaway struggled with impunity before sending a back elbow to Joe’s face, which Joe ducked, before finally whipping Callaway into the ropes. On the return, Joe hits a near picture perfect dropkick catching Callaway flush on the chest and sending him to his back! Joe quickly follows him in with a pin and a hook of the near leg as senior referee “The Jazz” makes a count;
1!
Stephen kicks out!
Unfazed, Joe gets back to his feet, soon after being met by Callaway. Joe sweeps the leg, but Callaway jumps like a jump rope before bringing his knee down across the side of Joe’s face. Brutal. Callaway then hits the opposite rope, to which B. Epic slaps his shoulder which prompts Callaway to stop while B leaps from apron to top rope, to Callaway’s shoulders to a set of double knees across Joe’s chest! He sticks the landing and remains seated as such, prompting The Jazz to drop into position;
1!
2!
Joe kicks out!
The crowd was on fire for B’s return to the ring, just as athletic as ever, he looked like he hadn’t even lost a step! B stood up and waited for Joe, who took his sweet time getting his bearings straight. When he finally did though, it took no time for B to step up, and tag Joe behind the ear with a step-up enziguri, sending the former champ right back to the mat! B again makes the cover, prompting OGDA to make the save!
Thatcher: A bit uncharacteristic of the superhero...he probably just got excited.
B stood up and stared down with the bigger man, but OGDA wanted no part of this. He backed up and returned to his corner because those are the rules, and rules are meant to be followed. B stared at the biggest hero, maybe even breathed a sigh of relief when –
The Jazz slips into position and counts the quick roll up by Joe Jones!
1!
2!
B kicks out!
Thatcher: Joe Jones out of nowhere off the OGDA distraction! How would Stephen have reacted if his long time friend and partner just lost his own Championship?!
B sat up as Joe slipped in behind with a reverse chinlock, shouting at the young but seasoned pro that he shouldn’t be here. The Gimnasio, however, ever their own minds…
“CHINLOCK CITY!”
clap, clap, clapclapclap
“CHINLOCK CITY!”
clap, clap, clapclapclap
Joe paid them no mind however as he synched the hold in tighter, Callaway encouraging his partner to fight back to his own corner.
Thatcher: Smart by Joe here, slow the pace down because you know if B. Epic is allowed to move, you won’t be able to keep up with him.
B slowly started to move, ever-so-slightly repositioning his body to get out from under Joe’s pressure. Callaway started clapping along, which prompted the Gimnasio to follow suit and even Beste – err I mean OGDA to do the same! Because who doesn’t like to clap? Joe could feel the momentum beginning to slip under his hold, and he had to do something. Then it hit him. Removing one arm from the hold, Joe used the now-free arm to elbow B right in the side of the neck! This put him right back to sleep, giving Joe the chance to walk back to his corner, tagging in the hero of Mexico, OGDA!
Thatcher: Listen to this crowd for Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris! Monterrey sure loves their hero!
OGDA stepped into the ring, and it was like a rush of endorphins washed over his body! It’s been almost a year since he’s been able to do the one thing he loves second only to his kitty Spartacus, and you could tell he was excited! After taking it all in, he looked at B whom was just sitting up, albeit rubbing his neck after that elbow strike. B looked up in time to see a running knee strike from the hero, though he low bridged it, matrix style and OGDA went stumbling forward into Callaway’s corner, whom was all too eager to catch the big man with a rope-assisted guillotine off the top rope! OGDA stumbled around while B quickly scrambled to his feet and into the closest ropes to OGDA. With one foot on the middle rope, he springs back, doing a one-eighty degree rotation with his right foot extended to connect with “The Epic” (Springboard Carbon Footprint) on OGDA – but he slaps him away!
Thatcher: WOW! What a display of power!
Sensing the end was near, Callaway hit the ring, behind OGDA, almost stalking him.
Thatcher: We’ve seen this before…
Quickly, Callaway steps forward, wrapping both hands around OGDA’s neck in the Calsimission (Tazzmission)! OGDA thrashes about wildly and Joe enters the ring to save his partner – but eats a drop toe hold, as his leg gets swept by a just coming to B. Epic! The impact from the fall sends Joe into OGDA, which sends OGDA back into the turnbuckle, crushing Callaway between them! B is the first to stand up, but is followed soon after by Joe – an athletic mismatch if ever there were one.
B nails Joe with a stiff left hand, to which Joe retaliates with a stinging knife-edge chop. This left-hand and chop trade proceeds for a few iterations before Joe gets the upper hand with a sneak rabbit punch to the gut of B. Joe smirks, he’s not into the hype of B. Epic, and knows that he could do anything he could do better. He approaches the side ropes, and places his foot on the middle. With a deep breath he springs off the ropes with a beautiful double axel jump (that’s two-and-a-half rotations, for those not familiar with ice skating)
BUT GETS CAUGHT WITH A HIGH KNEE TO THE FACE FROM B!!
Thatcher: Oh no, Joe! What beautiful form, but that high knee strike was bowling shoe ugly!
The impact sends Joe down hard as he holds his nose, while B goes instinctively into the pin. The Jazz however waves it off, saying Joe isn’t legal. Waitaminute, Joe isn’t legal?!
B gets unceremoniously pulled to his feet by OGDA and wrapped up tight in a belly-to-belly form, before being launched overhead with the “Huggy Time” (Bayley to Belly)! B crashes to the mat hard while OGDA goes to check on his friend Joe Jones, whom orders him to look out for Callaway whom is just now rising out of the corner. Joe slowly crawls back to his corner as OGDA stalks Callaway, catching him out of the corner with the “Huggy Time”, also throwing him with a thunderous belly-to-belly suplex!
Thatcher: Do we have a new champion imminently? Can anyone stop Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris?!
OGDA looks to his corner to see Joe Jones leaning over the top rope, begging for a tag. OGDA looks down at the remnants of Epic Angle and the marvelous carnage of Joe Jones’ plan actually unfolding like Nostradamus, then questioningly he TAGS JOE IN!!
Thatcher: What is he doing, he could have walked away as the International Whirlwind Champion right now…
With the most smug of expressions on his face, Joe stepped back into the ring and picked up the dead weight of Stephen Callaway. He set him into a reverse headlock, reverse DDT position…
“I told you! This is MY TIME! MY TITLE! MY COMPANY!”
That was it. It was that exact moment. Joe kicked his leg back, and it was “Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am” (Crossrhodes)! The Gimnasio sat in a deafening, mortified silence at what they just witnessed. Joe Jones had called his shot, and on this night, live at RANCOR! he had delivered on exactly that!
Joe stood up, through heavy breathing, he spat down on Callaway’s body. The ultimate form of disrespect…then, he set his sights across the ring, only for his moment to be interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. He brushed it aside, but the hand grabbed him and spun him around – it was OGDA, staring him face to face!
Thatcher: Waitaminute, what are we doing here…
Joe pushes his friend back, “stay back, I’m gonna win this match for you and I!” But OGDA didn’t respond. “Helloooo?” No answer. Joe shrugged and spun back around. That was when it happened.
OGDA suddenly took Joe by the waist, and lifted him up in the air, planting him with a HUUUGGGGEEEE, THUUUNNNDDEEERRROOUUUSSSS, “deep six powerbomb”! The Gimnasio looked on in questionable, unblinking shock…
Thatcher: That looked familiar…damn it what just happened here?!
OGDA pullss Joe across the mat, lying him out there like he was about to be hung from a cross, then while standing above him, he reached behind his head, ripping off the mask revealing for everyone to see;
Thatcher: THE MASTODON?! WHAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING?!
Waking up from the corner after the first thunderous “Huggy Time” was B. Epic, as he crawled to the confusing sight he was witnessing. With nothing The Jazz could do, B. Epic throws his left arm over Joe’s probably broken, shattered body, to which The Jazz makes the count;
1!
2!
3!
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners as a result of a pinfall, representing Epic Angle...Stephen Callaway and THE NNNEEEEWWWWW INTERNATIONAL WHIRLWIND CHAMPION; B. EPPPIIIIICCCC!!
Lil Troy’s “Wanna Be a Baller” hits as The Jazz hands the Championship to B. Epic, just in time for Callaway to come to and witness what has to be seen as...a betrayal? A traitorous act against a brother-in-arms?
Abruptly, the music cuts as the cameras focus on the top of the aisle as a very rotund, morbidly obese man waddles half way down of course with a mic in hand.
?: Remember me, Joe?! I remember Southern Florida too, and the way you stole that contract from me! You stranded me with nowhere to go, no money to get out! But guess what…I’m your worst nightmare now…
Thatcher: Nanook…the history between this man and Joe Jones goes as far back as time will tell.
Nanook: And you see that man there, the one that brutalized you? Get used to seeing him, because that man is my new client. He is The Mastodon, we met in Southern Florida right as you left. And now, you can expect to see much, much more of him because he, myself, and the Whirlwind? We’re all signed to a very, very lengthy, lucrative contract…that expires one day after yours!
Thatcher: Oh no! Folks, what a way to close out RANCOR! and boy did it ever live up to it’s name! We’ve got a new champion in spite of the now ex-Champion being on the winning side, we’ve got Nanook back with a vengeance, The Mastodon, and what about the Meat Sauce Mafia? Surely they won’t take what happened earlier lying down. For now, we’re out of time so make sure you catch us again on October thirty-first, All Hallows Eve! Join us, and see if Pendragon and MAX Danger can put the kibosh on the Meat Sauce Mafia, what’s next with Joe Jones and Nanook, how Stephen Callaway will respond to his brother-in-arms win, and of course, will B. Epic choose truth, or dare, to kick off his championship reign?! Thanks for watching everyone, good night!
WhirlwindⓇ Flashback said:
Imagine Dragons' "Natural" plays an overly animated Gil Saturn to the ring, with Mike Saturn at his side. In the ring Mike stands in the center with his hands on his hips, pecks glistening under the fluorescent lighting. Suddenly, Gil rolls in and jumps onto his brother’s back, arm raised and tongue sticking out, like you could tell the Saturn Boys were overly confident in their abilities to win what had to be called in their mind, the “Saturn Family Invitational”...Ozzy Osbourne’s “Hellraiser” swiftly interrupts the more modern sounds of Nelly and with that we’re greeted with the sight of one of the most imposing figures in the entire performance center. The Mastodon. His singlet was snug which accented his his toned, ripped figure, his arms as big around as the average skull. The light beamed off his shiny scalp as the man pumped his arms up and down repeatedly, seeming to say “MAS-TO-DON! MAS-TO-DON! MAS-TO-DON!” His walk to the ring was unnervingly calm, and perhaps the thing more calm was his reaction of feigned indifference to the Saturn Boys in the ring. The Mastodon merely snorted and rolled his shoulders back as the bell rang.
Gil Saturn points at his head, he knows he can outsmart this shallow minded brute, with that he ran right at The Mastodon, who caught the brash loudmouth on his shoulder, and drilled him to the mat with a scoop powerslam! Firmly pressing his body over Gil’s in the ring, referee Ivan Rex wasted no time in counting the lightning pinfall.
1!
2!
3!
Ace Manners: WHAT?! That’s it? It took longer to get them to the ring!
Mike Saturn wasn’t happy at all, he jumped onto the ring skirt to argue with Ivan who insisted he must have been on drugs or something. The Mastodon kicks Gil to the side and barks at Mike, urging him to come inside too. Now Mike, feeling smarter than his brother since he was a year older, knew he wouldn’t fall for the same trick. Cautiously he entered the ring and began to creep towards the powerhouse.
Ace Manners: I guess we’re having another match here!
Mike steps up, ducking underneath a wide and clearly telegraphed punch from The Mastodon, quickly slapping him on the return! Big mistake. Mike then tried to slide in behind The Mastodon and apply a rear waistlock, but the big man had other ideas with an elbow to the side of the face that rocked the older Saturn! Mastodon sent him into the ropes, then on the return he had a special present for Mike - a scooping powerslam of his own! The small, but passionate crowd in attendance popped for the big move to send the two overly confident Jersey Shore wannabes packing from the Southern Florida Championship Night!
Ace Manners: Wow. I don’t really know what to say here. The Mastodon, folks. He’s won his round and will be moving on to challenge the winner of the semi-finals and I think that’s gonna be my pick to win this whole thing!
*Later that evening*
Without warning, Gil and Mike Saturn make their way to the ring, this time they’re not empty handed. Gil had a steel chain and Mike had a light tube, which prompted The Mastodon to turn his attention to them! Mike slid into the ring first and swung the light tube at him, but The Mastodon instead grabbed it in his hands and pulled it away from Mike! Then with his knee he brought the light across it to break it just right in front of him! Mike was shocked!!
Ace Manners: Oh my God that’s not human! That’s...that only served to make him mad!
Mike then slid back out of the ring, but this time The Mastodon wouldn’t leave it alone. He slid out of the ring and, Gil stepped up to the mammoth of a man and whirled the chain at him. The Mastodon caught that too, ripping it from Gil’s hands! It was at that moment, Gil Saturn knew...that he *** up. The Mastodon let out a loud snort as he gave chase to The Saturn Boys right up the aisle and through the back.
Ace Manners: Good grief what exactly is happening here?! This looks serious, men are breaking light tubes on their thighs and monsters are chasing each other with steel chains...what did I sign on for?
*Later Still That Evening...*
We see Gil Saturn with a black eye and Mike Saturn with a bloody nose and a fat lip...as well as The Mastodon chained up tight to a lamp post! While he tries to struggle and use his freakish strength to break free, together The Saturn Boys take a cinder block and lunge forward, cracking it against the side of The Mastodon’s face! Of course this would knock him out, and The Saturn Boys - though looking like little more than a hot mess - high five each other for a job well done, before collapsing on the pavement...
The Mastodon vs Gil & Mike Saturn w/ Veronica Taylor
At the onset of the bell, Mastodon charged straight ahead, bullrushing into both Saturn Boys with a double shoulderblock that took them down to the mat! Mike was the wiser of the two as he rolled to the outside while Gil wasn’t so lucky. Mastodon picked up Gil by the hair and threw him into the corner, followed by a repeating series of lariats in the corner; one, two, three, four – when Mike jumped onto the apron and aimed for Mastodon’s head with a double fisted sledge, but Mastodon ducked down and Mike clobbered Gil in the face!
Thatcher: That can’t be good for their brotherly love!
Gil stumbled out of the corner and right into a waiting Mastodon, who pounces on the smaller Saturn with a Lou Thesz Press! Punch after punch reined down until Mike finally entered the ring to deliver a basement dropkick to knock the big beast out of the clutch. Mastodon rolled back from the kick...and then sat up with a snarl! Mike sat up, looking on in horror at what he just likely induced!
Thatcher: That didn’t seem to do anything but piss him off…
Mastodon jumps up to his feet while Mike does the same, then with a pounce that would make Monty Brown jealous, Mastodon leaps into Mike with a barrage of fury-laced strikes! Mike’s inability to fight back sends him into defense mode as he frantically tries to cover up before being pushed back into the ropes. Referee Farva orders the man beast back to no avail, prompting his five count to begin;
1!
2!
3!
4 –
Gil Saturn breaks the count as he jumps into the fray with a lariat to Mastodon’s back! Mastodon lets out a roar of rage as he turns to Gil – which enables Mike to quickly grab the big man’s arms like he were being handcuffed!! Gil lays in a pair of gut punches intertwined with stiff knife-edge chops to the big man’s chest, seemingly slowing him down and subduing his rage.
Thatcher: The Saturn Boys did it question mark? Did they just slay the beast for Veronica?
Slowly, The Saturn Boys work The Mastodon down to his knees, Mike still holding him from behind while Gil, now, brings the pain with a pair of high (medium I guess) knee strikes to the face! Mastodon spit takes from the impact before falling face first from them. Quickly, Gil flips him over and the two of them make the pin;
1!
2 –
The Mastodon powers out!!
Thatcher: WOW! Run, boys…
Angrier than ever, Mastodon slaps the mat as he rises back to his feet, daring the Saturns to make their move. Gil runs right at him with a shotgun dropkick to the chest, into the ropes. Then off the other ropes, Gil rebounds into him with all his momentum, a vaulting body press – BUT MASTODON QUICKLY SIDESTEPS AND GIL FLIES THROUGH THE ROPES TO THE FLOOR, ALMOST NAILING VERONICA!!
Thatcher: Gil Saturn folks, looking like Alaska Airlines Baggage Claim…
Veronica jumps up on the apron and snaps at Mastodon, barking at him to look at her. She blows the beast a kiss then just as he looks toward her;
Mike quickly looks to capitalize on the distraction as he sails across the ring with a huge suuuuuuuuuuupppeeeeerrrrrrr kiiiicccckkkk to the face, knocking Mastodon into the corner! Veronica jumps down off the apron and Mike heads back to the opposite corner. He shouts out something inaudible before running right back at Mastodon, presumably for a finishing blow – BUT MASTODON DUCKS DOWN AND MIKE HANGS HIS LEG OVER THE TOP ROPE!
Thatcher: Uh oh…
But not to fear, Mastodon is here to “help” him free himself. First, Mastodn pumps both arms up and down, prompting the Gimnasio to chant along with him;
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
Then, Mastodon grabs Mike by the hair and waistline of his leather pants, pulls him back from the corner, then with a velocity unheard of from a man his size, spins him out with the “Mastobomb” (Deep 6 Powerbomb)!! Mastodon makes the sharp, crisp cover with a hook of the near leg while Veronica watches on, his eyes locked on the holder of the “Gulf Coast Championship”.
1!
2!
3!
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner as a result of a pinfall, and having earned the opportunity to challenge for Veronica Taylor’s “Gulf Coast Championship”. TTHHHHEEEE MAAAASSSTTTOODDDOOONNN!!!!
Ozzy’s “Hellraiser” emphatically takes over the sound system, much to Veronica’s worst fears being realized...
Mastodon emphatically releases the pin and stands up. Referee Farva holds one arm up, but the other motions around his waist, directly at Veronica. His eyes remained ever-fixated on his task at hand.
Thatcher: Wow, all I can say is wow! The Mastodon made a statement tonight, and I have no idea how Veronica Taylor will ever defeat this man, let alone save her little pink championship. This might be her demise…
Meanwhile, in unison, the entirety of the Gimnasio was firmly behind the man beast;
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“MAS-TO-DON!”
“I tell you what!” One Bad Ass James Kelloggs says as the scene slowly fades in inside of the locker room of the Gimnasio Nuevo León arena, home of Whirlwind Wrestling. Joe and James are getting ready for their tag match later tonight and James is doing some stretches with some bands while Joe is standing looking out the window of the Gimnasio Nuevo León out over the parking lot lost in thought.
“That little bitch is gunna have a hard time finding himself a partner. Fucking no one is going to want to team with that whinny little bitch. We’ve got this! Straight up, we’ll teach him a lesson. No one fucks with us and gets away with it! You hear what they called us! Universal Gentlemen! Like that is a slap in the face or something. We fucking owned that shit hole and owned that name! Just like how we’re going to fucking own this place and that belt is going to be back around your waist in short order!” James rambles on about with his shirt off as he works out with the bands.
“Listen! Callaway ain’t going to know what happened to him till I take my fucking knee and smack him upside his fucking cocksucking lips! No offense. He is going to get the Bad Ass One taking him down to the mat and make him cry like the bitch that he is! I’ll hit him so hard that his lips will swell up like that black bitch on that movie you like, with the nerd who dances in those silly fucking moon boots.”
“Lafawnduh.” From Napoleon Dynamite fame Joe says.
“Yeah! Fucking Lafawnduh! Bitch had a set of lips on her and when it’s all said and done, when you win back your belt and we kick that fucker Callaway off to the side like a bag of trash, Fucking Callaway will be the white male version of her! Little bitch, fucking try and kick me, I’ll punch you in the balls and rub your face in your own piss and shit from the beating I’m going to give you.”
As James rambles on and on, Joe sighs. He checks his phone, checks his messages. He glances up from his phone and gazes out the window again.
In the background, James is acting out what he’s going to do to our Champion Callaway which it looks like trusting his crotch in his face and calling him a “Bitch”, following by smacking the side of his head several times and saying “Oh! You like that! Yeah I thought so! You fucking pig!”
Joe rolls his eyes and checks his phone again. This time swiping to his text messages, opening them and sending out a quick text……..
Backstage correspondent Nikki Mynx stood in front of a Whirlwind Wrestling logo banner with an ear-to-ear smile as she introduces her guest.
Nikki Mynx: Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me introduce another new signee of Whirlwind Wrestling, Hidekai Hideyoshi!
Standing to her right are two men dressed in suits, one considerably younger than the other. The lapels on their suit jackets are matching Japanese flags. The younger of the two men says a few words in Japanese, before the older gentleman offers a translation for Nikki.
Translator: Hidekai san, says he is excited to be here in Whirlwind Wrestling, and he can't wait to perform for our fans.
Nikki: How are you adjusting to the U.S. culture so far, Hideaki?
Nikki asks innocently before another individual with shoulder length black hair and dressed in an American flag patterned suit walks confidently through the scene and delivers a near deliberate shoulder to shoulder contact with Hideaki, forcing him to stagger back from the impact. Hideaki continues to stare insulted at the man's disrespect, a look of confusion and frustration on his face.
"You can call me Geoffrey Thomas Anderson, the Fifth. The only fifth generation megastar to ever grace this industry and the man whom will single-handedly put this company on his back and carry it to the moon. Bask in my glory, and revel in my brilliance."
Nikki: Mr. Anderson, I'm in the middle of an interview with Hideaki at the moment, but when I'm done I will -
GTAV: You dare put a man of MY caliber on the back burner? Do you know what my net worth is?! You fool! Do you even KNOW who I am? The office put out a newswire solely to say I was coming! Did they do that for this guy? Who's the more important one now!
GTA storms off the scene, a sign of over-confident swagger and perhaps a hint of animosity in his steps.
Nikki Mynx: But I...shrewd guy. Mr. Hideyoshi apologies for the interruption, please be sure that Whirlwind Wrestling is most happy to have you here. I can't believe some people would be so rude...anyway, on behalf of this company, I want to wish you the best of luck as you begin your career here in Mexico!
Nikki offers her hand to Hideaki as she turns to face the camera.
Nikki Mynx: Derrick, back to you at ringside.
The older gentleman slaps his hand to the back of Hideyoshi and makes a comment in their native language as the scene cuts.
Thatcher: Ladies and gents, this is one explosive contest I can’t wait to see.
Jacob Hotstuff w/ Warrior Queen Alkaia vs Jose Sanchez
Dead Elvi’s “Lucha Libre” plays to a loud pop for…
For…
The one…
The only…
Jose Sanchez!
Thatcher: The Gimnasio sure does love this guy’s heart, but tonight, I don’t think this will be his night…
He stood at the top of the aisle with his chest puffed out and the entirety of the Gimnasio encouraging him. Jose darted down to the ring with the quickness of a three-legged cat, before the Warrior Queen and Jacob rushed out behind him to waylay him in the aisle! Jacob kicked at the man’s face a couple of times before Alkaia finally picked him up and HURLED him into the safety barricade! Jacob let out a hearty horse laugh as Alkaia picked him up and HURLED him to the other barricade across the aisle! Jacob then went around behind Alkaia and hopped on her back, an arm raised as he rode his monster to victory to the ring where referee Farva ordered her to immediately ordered her to leave the ringside area.
A pair of EMTs rush out to tend to Jose while Jacob lounges in the corner of the ring, propped across the top rope like a hammock.
Thatcher:! Jacob! This is low, even for you! You never had any intention of fighting Jose here tonight. You just wanted the coward’s way out. You’re a snake! A slimey, slithering, cowardly snake…
Carefully, the EMTs begin helping Jose onto a stretcher while Jacob urges Farva to begin counting him out.
1!
2!
The EMTs begin carting the young fan favorite up the aisle to a deafening chorus of booes from the Gimnasio!
Thatcher: Folks, you hate to see things end like this, poor Jose, I hope he’s – waitaminute!
At the top of the aisle, Jose sits up from the stretcher! This prompts the Gimnasio to cheer and chant for their hero to the bewildered dismay of Jacob in the ring…
Thatcher: Jose, don’t do this. Think about your future, there’s no shame in being looked at professionally…
The EMTs try to push him back to the stretcher, but Jose won’t allow it! He stumbles off, and even with a limp he hobbles his way down to the ring. Jacob looked like he saw a ghost as Jose slid into the ring. Farva checked with him one more time, with Jose emphatically nodding his head that he wanted this!
Thatcher: Jose...I hope you know what you’re doing. For your sake.
Just as the bell rang, Jacob leapt from his perch like a cat on the couch, then into a twisting back elbow that caught Jose hard across the jaw, knocking him right down! Quickly, Jacob made the cover as Farva counted;
1!
2!
Jose kicks out!
Thatcher: YES! Go Jose!
Jacob looks up at Farva increduously. Again he goes for a cover, this time with a lateral press;
1!
2 – Jose kicks out!
“Unbelievable”, Jacob thought to himself. But it’s only a matter of time, right? Jacob grabs Jose by the hair, forcing him upright. He puts his finger in Jose’s face mocking him, belittling him…until Jose fires back with a stiff right hand across the brash movie star’s face! Another strike, and this crowd is practically eating out of Jose’s hand, their cheers louder for each landing strike!
“JOSE!”
“JOSE!”
Jose continued the onslaught with a kick to the gut followed by a spinning neckbreaker on Jacob, planting him firmly on the mat, followed by a quick cover;
1!
2 – Jacob barely kicks out before the two!
But Jose doesn’t let it get him down, he rises up first and stomps the actor for good measure. And another. Jose then hits the ropes and comes back, his fists clasped together as he drops a double elbow across the sternum of Jacob! Jacob reels in pain as Jose looks across the ring at the turnbuckle, then to the Gimnasio as if waiting for their direction.
“CLIMB!”
“CLIMB!”
“CLIMB!”
They all shouted at the rookie, to which Jose nodded as he marched to the corner. He climbed up the turnbuckle, ending with his feet on the second rope while sitting on the top. His knees buckled, this situation clearly not one of his forte, but with a deep breath he leapt off, plunging his elbow into the actor’s chest!
BUT JACOB ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY!
A heart-shattering depression fell over the Gimnasio for what looked to be Jose’s second wind. Meanwhile, Jacob managed to slowly pull himself ever closer to Jose, and groggily he throws his arm across Jose’s chest, prompting a count from Farva;
1!
2!
…
…
Jose kicks out!
“YES!”
“YES!”
“YES!”
Thatcher: Incredible, Jose is still in this thing!
Jacob sat up in more shock than anything – but so did Jose! In unison, the two climbed to their knees and traded punches, and then to their feet. Jacob went for the classic collar-and-elbow lockup, while Jose went low with a solid toe kick to the gut! Jacob doubled over in pain, and with the opportunity presented, Jose grabbed Jacob in a front facelock and drilled him with a DDT! But wait, Jose isn’t done! Jose, retaining the front facelock brings Jacob back up, to deliver a second DDT! BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE! Still retaining the front facelock, Jose again pulls Jacob up to his feet, this time he wraps Jacob’s arms back, and drops him with a double arm DDT! The Hollywood B-Lister is out cold, and with a rush of adrenaline, Jose drops down into a firm cover with a hook of the near leg!
1!
2!
…
…
…
…
…
Jacob barely rolls the shoulder up!
“THAT WAS THREE!”
“THAT WAS THREE!”
“THAT WAS THREE!”
But referee Farva holds up two fingers, insisting the count wasn’t a match ender.
Thatcher: Oh my gosh, Jose, finish this!
Jose pulls Jacob up one more time, but Jacob, looking out on his feet, grabs Farva’s shirt collar and pulls him into the grapple. Farva’s collision is enough to obscure his vision such that Jacob can kick his foot back, nabbing Jose in the crotch which doubles him over in pain. Jacob then moves around, draping one leg over the back of Jose’s neck, then spinning, driving him to the mat with the “Encore” (Overdrive)! Jacob practically collapses over Jose’s body as Farva counts the pin;
Thatcher: Damn it, not this way…
1!
Thatcher: C’mon Jose kick out.
2!
Thatcher: That sonavabitch!
3!
It was a moment that, to them, time would have stood still for. Hearts all around the Gimnasio sank as Farva’s hand slapped the mat for the third time. After such a career-defining fight, Jose Sanchez still, ultimately, fell victim to the obnoxious Hollywood movie star after all.
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner as a result of a pinfall…”The Official Michael Bay of Pro Wrestling”! JAAAACCCOOOBBBB!! HOOOTTTSTTUUUFFFFF!!
Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” reined down over the Gimnasio as Farva grabbed Jacob’s arm to raise, though the actor was still laid across Jose.
Thatcher: Talk about your heart wrenching stories, Jose fought so hard, against the adversity, against the sneak attack, he showed incredible heart in the face of the scourge of Whirlwind evil himself, but at the end of the day…well, I’m sure through his botched plan for an easy night, being in the fight of his life, this night tonight will be a night that Jacob Hotstuff will not soon forget either. Jacob was a very lucky man tonight, over a very game Jose. Folks, we gotta get these two checked out, meanwhile, check out this clip from our past.
While the EMTs were quick to arrive to tend to Jose, Warrior Queen Alkaia was just as quick to pick up her “employer”? She slung his body over her shoulder and walked to the back, leaving the ring to Jose. Jose, now standing up, received a standing ovation for his efforts as the EMTs helped him gently out of the ring and up the aisle.
Out at the merch table for Whirlwind Wrestling, with a sold out crowd streaming in, while most fans grab a drink and something to eat before finding their seats, some gathering around the merch table to pick up the latest merch and rumor has it that the signed Veronica Taylor poster and the newest Mad MAX tee are huge hits, but at this second, the table is being flooded by the under 10 crowd, all excited and so happy, packing themselves in as tight as they can to get close to, and get a selfie with the one!
The only!
Orgulloso Guardián Del Arcoiris!
“The Rainbow Warriors” and OGDA’s “Shining Stars” are so thrilled to see him. OGDA is busy high fiving and hugging his very dedicated fan base. So busy that he doesn’t see his phone buzzing away on the corner of the merch table.
But someone did.
In the midst of the chaos a huge fat chubby hand swipes OGDA’s phone to unlock it and it’s not password protected. The same chubby fingers tap on OGDA’s text messages and reveals a new message from one Joe Jones. Before we can get a good look at it, the chubby hands pick up the phone and a couple of seconds later, the phone is set back down on the table with a reply.
“Sure thing!”
After it is sent, and read, the fat finger that is not OGDA’s finger, then deletes the texts without OGDA ever knowing about it. But the children are so happy getting hugs and selfies with the great OGDA……
WhirlwindⓇ Flashback said:
Baldwin Knight: Ladies and gentlemen, last month we witnessed, what I personally believe to have been a misguided mistake at-best, when an impromptu match between new signing Maria Montez and Jacob Hotstuff at Day of Judgment was ended prematurely after my guest at this time threw a white towel into the ring on Jacob’s behalf. Francine, it’s a pleasure to have you here with me of course, you’re looking well as usual.
He stood up to extend his hand to the wife of the MMA legend, MAX Danger, which she daintily accepted, before taking her seat across from the seasoned reporter.
Francine Danger: Thank you, it’s good to be here.
Baldwin Knight: I’m gonna jump right down to business, Francine. The question we’ve all been wanting an answer to since last month is “why’d you do it?” Jacob, for as good as he believes himself to be, has been anything but endearing to fans and athletes alike since his posh arrival to the company. Even you, you scolded him for his unsporting attack toward Lisa Lightning ahead of their match. I know I can’t speak for everyone, but most of the people on this roster were surely enjoying watching that actor turn forty shades of blue as Maria choked him out. Most of our roster...except you. He’s been nothing but disrespectful toward you on social media, he’s been downright aggressive toward your husband specifically, so you of all people I’d assume would gain the most satisfaction to watch Jacob “pay the piper”, so to speak, yet, it was you that showed him the reprieve to make the punishment stop. I, along with everyone watching at home...would love to know why.
Francine Danger: What, so because someone is a rude jerk to me and my loved ones that means I’m supposed to just accept and watch them struggle? I know I’m not a fighter, so maybe I don’t get the culture and all...but is it not more correct to turn the other cheek?
Baldwin Knight: Is that how you really feel? A man that has your husband so angry he’s ready to unload many right hands on him. A man that, from this reporter’s vantage anyway, is the sleaziest man in wrestling today. A man that hit another woman in the back of her head with a lead plate, and you would ‘turn the other cheek’? No, I don’t buy that Francine. You’re too nice of a woman for me to believe that you’d feel that way. All due respect, but I don’t think that’s what you really feel. Try again.
Francine’s face turned visibly red, she was clearly getting upset and she wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Francine Danger: I know you’re a freelance reporter...but who are you to even tell me what I’m thinking and am not thinking?! Like you can just sit across from me and try to put suggestions in my head based on what the societal norms are?
Unlike Francine, Baldwin kept a straight, cool, wall of stone demeanor.
Baldwin Knight: Hmm. You’re awfully defensive over something that was just a simple unbiased observation. But if you insist…
Francine Danger: Look, okay, I get it. Jake is a bit much at times, sure he comes on strong…
Baldwin leaned in, listening intently as it seemed his stern demeanor was enough to crack her open.
Francine Danger: And, I mean sure, like I said I do understand what you mean. But, Jake and I, and MAX, we have a history. We’ve been friends for over ten years now, so while I can’t approve of what Jake does...he’s still a close friend at the end of it.
Baldwin offers a sympathetic nod.
Baldwin Knight: That has to be really hard for you. To be stuck in the middle between the man you swore you’d spend the rest of your life with, and a close friend, knowing the husband and friend will probably never get along...I wish I could offer you advice there, but I can’t say I’ve really found myself in a similar situation.
Francine Danger: So now you’re a shrink? You ask me a tough question and then try to dig inside my head for some kind of inner conflict I’m wrestling with? And who made you a psychology expert? Where’d you get your degree?
Baldwin Knight: Francine, I -
Francine slammed her hands on the table, pushing herself up out of her chair.
Francine Danger: No. You know what, I thought you were different, Baldwin. I thought you weren’t gonna judge me but you’re just the same as any other news outlet. This interview is over.
With one fluid motion, Francine spun on her heel and turned out through the door,
Baldwin Knight: Francine, I didn’t mean to -
But she was already down the hall, leaving Baldwin Knight to himself, his scoop over before it could really begin…
Backstage in the Gimnasio halls the masked man himself, Pendragon stood wearing a black suit with a green tie to match the green trim on his mask tonight while a young African American man; the very same seen working at the Academia Internacional de Lucha de Pendragon during the video package at Genesis Wave stood next to him wearing a grey and black suit of his own. The man, yet to be introduced by name, seemed to keep his cool reasonably enough on the surface but there was a bright glimmer in his eyes; this was the big stage, the premiere promotion in all of Mexico, a country in which he has trained and resided in for close to a year.
"You weren't kidding, this place is bigger in person. I can still hear the crowd all the way back here." Almost as if on cue a slam on the mat could be heard as the crowd popped for the spot. "I've never worked in front of a crowd like this before, how do you manage keep it together? Wouldn't the noise be distracting to work with? I mean yeah you want the crowd to react to what you're doing and hopefully cheer you on but; wow. It's like a concert pumping out decibels at times out there."
Pendragon couldn't help but chuckle as he placed his hand on his student's shoulder in an attempt to reassure him.
"I understand; it's a lot to take in. I remember when I first started working in the ring, long before I donned this mask and fresh out of the wrestling academy there's were definitely some emotions to work through. You're nervous, you want to put your best foot forward and make a good first impression; you only ever have one shot at accomplishing that. Nobody wants to pour their heart and soul into something only to immediately be rejected at their first opportunity. The thought can be absolutely soul crushing if you dwell upon it.
But the people aren't going to expect perfection out of the gate; they want to see effort. They want to know that you're serious about giving it your all every single night. They want to see what's in your character when you face adversity, they want to see how you respond when things aren't going your way; do you remain true to yourself or do you start looking for shortcuts? But perhaps most importantly of all; they want to see this."
Pendragon taps to his heart with his free hand before tapping his student's chest as well.
"They want to see heart. As long as you give it your all you'll be able to hold your head up high, no matter what happens. You're going to be tested a lot throughout your career both as a professional and as a person and you will have to make some difficult decisions and some sacrifices along the way. I'll be here in case you need someone to talk to but at the end of the day you need to follow your heart."
The man nods as he soaks in his mentor's knowledge like a sponge as what could be as many as a million thoughts run through his mind; possible challenges, moral dilemmas, potential championship wins, losses, setback and triumph. Tonight was the night that his dreams would begin to turn into reality; this was it, he was here.
"Whatever happens; I'm proud of you for making it this far."
Suddenly the moment between mentor and student was interupted as a soft feminine voice echoed in the hallway, presumably nearby but just out of the camera's sight.
"Sean Tuoni, the office will see you now."
Pendragon pats Sean on the back as they begin to turn and walk down the hallway.
"You got this, Sean."
Thus begun the journey of Sean Tuoni, the very first graduate of the Academia Internacional de Lucha de Pendragon into the squared circle. Could he manage to capture lightning in a bottle? The future will tell in due time.
COMING SOON
In the hallway leading towards the stage area is The Bad Ass James Kelloggs and Double J Joe Jones.
“I wouldn’t sweat this Joe! They can make all of the stupid fucking stips that want, but truth is, you won’t need another title match after this because in a few fucking minutes, we’ll make that bitch tap the fuck out and that belt will be back right where it belongs! Around your motherfucking waist!”
Joe stops walking and adjusts his white fur coat made from real rabbits and turns around and looks down on his pint sized partner.
“Look. I hate to do this. But you’ve got to sit this one out little buddy.” Joe says to James, who has a shocked look on his face.
“It’s a tag match, what do you mean sit this one out?”
“I found someone else.”
“Someone else?”
“Listen, I know you want to get your hands on Callaway as much as I do, but the stakes are really high and I can’t…..I can’t overlook the small parts of this match.”
James’s face gets red. “Motherfucker!”
“I know! I couldn’t help myself, but listen. When you get in that ring, Callaway is going to wind up that big boot of his and kick you into the middle of next week, and you’ll flinch, and freeze in place and it’ll be over. I can’t…..I can’t have that. I want my belt back. Who know who Stevie got for a partner. I had to get some muscles.”
“That is such bullshit! I’m not afraid of that little fucking bitch? Fuck that! His big boot doesn’t scare me one bit!”
“Really?”
“Fuck yeah! In fact! That bitch better ...AHHHHHHHHH!!!”
As James begins to state his case, Joe winds up and takes a couple of steps towards James and lifts his boot in the air to hit his own running kick on James, his drops to the floor and curled up in the fetal position. Joe stomps his foot on the concrete floor and looks down at James, who opens one eye and is pale white, frozen with fear.
“Sorry buddy. I had to replace you. Maybe next time, yeah?” Joe says before turning and continuing his way towards the ring.
James sits up in the middle of the floor looking so pissed off. “I wasn’t afraid. Honest! I wasn’t. You fucking bitch!”
We jump cut backstage to find none other than Hollywood Jesus himself, self-proclaimed "Michael Bay of Pro Wrestling", Jacob Hotstuff. He had a fresh towel around his neck and, for once, Warrior Queen Alkaia was nowhere to be seen. Jacob was breathing heavily however, having just fought the match of his career, or something like that, with Jose Sanchez.
"How dare. They. Force my secret weapon. From ringside." His breaths short and sparse as he desperately reached for a nearby bottled water.
"Jake?" A female voice called from down the hall. Jacob however, recognized the voice instantly. It was sweet, to him. Almost serene.
"Jacob, so you did come back. It's...good, to see you again."
"Francine..." He stood up, a vain attempt to act all tough and macho. "It's been a long time. Over a year since...you know, Triple Threat was when we last saw each other."
Francine Danger: Jake...what happened to you? I know, I saw...that match. Watching your body get burned alive, it was horrifying. But after, in Florida...who, are you?
Jacob had been a certified douchebag ever since his infamous inferno match with Pendragon, over a year ago. Some would call him crazy. He would go off about his "Blazin Brilliance", even going so far as to call himself the God-King of professional wrestling. He was out of control, he mocks God...
Jacob Hotstuff: Things change. When Whirlwind and The Knight Family ceased operations in twenty-eighteen, I wasn't done yet. I needed somewhere to go and unleash all my pent up frustrations on the world. They needed to see that I was the saviour of the silver screen...they needed to see that Hollywood Jesus was the future they couldn't deny...
Francine Danger: I know you and Maximillian will never be friends again, but you know you didn't have to leave. You're as much a part of our lives as we are your's. What did you have to prove? You're already a movie star, look at your catalog of roles. You've secured the lead role for the anticipated Sharknado VIII: Bigger and Toothier, set for twenty twenty-five. You didn't have to go to Florida. you didn't have to do anything. You could have stayed here, maybe flown to Hollywood to shoot your films. I just...
Jacob Hotstuff: You missed me? After all our history, you're the one to miss me?
Francine Danger: Jake, I --
Just about that moment, a towering shadow came into the shot, beside Francine.
MAX Danger: The hell you doin' round my wife, Jake? Get on...or else you gonna wish your scalp would get burned again.
Jacob Hotstuff: Oh, Maximillian, never change you big dumb ape. Fine, whatever. Some of us had to work tonight. Maybe next month you'll pull your weight around here too. Francine, we'll talk more...whenever.
Not wanting more trouble and having already had a match, Jacob left the duo to themselves.
Francine Danger: Max...could you...do you think you'll ever...?
MAX Danger: After what Jake did? To us? Nah. That man gonna catch these hands one day, mark my words. Your man ain't gonna retire 'till I get him in a fight.
Francine Danger: …
The “Olive Garden Club Mix” shoots out, causing a wave of confusion across the Gimnasio, although it was short lived as the source would make itself known sooner than later.
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen please welcome, Monte the Python and RUIN!
“BOOOOOOO!!!”
Monte the Python along with RUIN (both men wearing a set of black track pants with a green trim, and an Olive Garden t-shirt with a small WW LLC logo at the bottom of it) could be seen at the top of the aisle, Monte with a breadstick in his hand and RUIN with a stem glass half full of something, probably alcoholic. The two received boos as they headed down the aisle…
Thatcher: These two make me sick, these bitter, past their prime, or in Monte’s case - never had a prime - losers just can’t handle that there are better conditioned, more athletic performers in not just this company, but the world…
Monte was used to the lack of respect these people showed. After all, who was he but the gopher in the back, but one thing about Monte is he never let it get to him. He stopped for a minute and smiled, almost taking in the boos and jeers directed to him over his actions a month ago. RUIN on the other hand, didn’t care. His expression was one of blank apathy as he drank from his glass. The only thought on his mind had to be money, and where to get the next drink. Some would call that an alcoholic. RUIN would call that success. And, as long as he had that Whirlwind contract, he’d feel all the success he could dream of, win or loss, he knew he was getting paid...
Thatcher: Folks, collectively these two have dubbed themselves the ...sigh… “Meat Sauce Mafia”, and they’ve demanded this air time tonight to talk about why they did what they did. I’m sorry.
By now, the two had reached ringside. RUIN set his glass on the apron and carefully pulled himself in under the bottom rope, making sure not to spill his drink. Monte however took his sweet time walking up the steps, stopping to take a bite of his breadstick, then again after climbing to the top of the turnbuckle with an arm raised triumphantly, as if he had pulled off a monumental feat. He remained for a moment longer as he just took in the atmosphere of recognition, and success.
RUIN: Listen up, ‘cuz I just got a somethin’ to say. What you hicks just saw, last month, was domination. WE just pissed all around this company to mark it as our own! WE showed who runs this place, with our mouths, and our money. And in case you too stupid to figure it out...money talks. Just look at my downside guarantee, I make more to stay home, than another would get to smash a guitar on someone else’s head…
RUIN winked at the hard cam, then passed the mic to Monte.
Monte the Python: Look ‘ere, ain’t nobody payin’ no dollars to see two guys slap fight over respek. So you can thank US, for savin this whole dang show, and givin’ yo asses somethin’ to bitch about on the internet for a month. Way I see it,
Monte takes a bite of the breadstick, down to about the ¼ left of it.
Monte the Python: Yawl the ones that owe US a thank you for, services rendered. We saved yo behinds from havin’ to watch two guys hug it out. The office ain’t even want me to go out there, but I did what I did, ‘cuz I’m a man, and ain’t no pencil pusher gonna tell me wut to do no mo’. Nah. I ain’t the one. Way big money Monte sees it, we run this place now, so yawl betta get used to seein’ my name ‘round here, ‘cuz I ain’t goin’ nowhere. And ya kno big bad RUIN and I, we gonna take that bling bling title too, don’t even argue ‘cuz you can’t even deny!
Monte handed the mic back to RUIN, whom took another drink to finish his glass before continuing.
RUIN: That’s right! Whirlwind Wrestling is where the big boys play...so all you little kids just sit back and let the MEN do business! Tell your friends...RUIN and Monte are the guys to beat…
Monte hovers over the mic with RUIN.
RUIN & Monte in unison: And the Olive Garden, is the place to eat!
Thatcher: Oh my gosh. And they probably just made a commission just by mentioning the restaurant name on live pay-per-view too…
The two obnoxious, borderline drunks share a massive chest bump when…
“Karma” by Kamelot begins to play in the Gimnasio stopping the Meat Sauce Mafia in their tracks. As the song begins to pick up Pendragon emerges from the back, seeming shedding his suit from earlier for his ring gear, the green highlighting the dominance of black throughout his attire. The crowd cheers and Pendragon lets them have their moment, much to the chagrin of the Olive Garden duo as he stood on the stage.
Pendragon: And here I thought Olive Garden was running a special promotion tonight, right here in Monterrey, Mexico...
Pendragon flashes a thumbs up as the crowd gives him his cheap pop as the Meat Sauce Mafia couldn't look any more annoyed if they tried.
Pendragon: I always wanted to say that; you'll have to excuse me this once. You know, I smelled Olive Garden's breadsticks and some of their endless alfredo pasta sauce but instead all it was the grease stains on Monte's pants and some of the leftover sauce spilled all over RUIN's shirt.
RUIN goes to check his shirt as Monte's eyes glance over his pants, his hands lightly dusting them off.
Pendragon: It's easy to talk a big game; say how you're going to do this and piss all over that but when the chips are down and the lights are bright it's like the two of you never show up. I don't mean physically in the literal sense; I'm sure everyone at Paco's Taco Shop three blocks away can hear these people booing you out of the building, no, but these mythological versions of yourselves that you try to sell to these people and lie to yourselves for a quick ego boost never seem to step out of that curtain. I mean take RUIN; the guy with the worst temperament south of Washington, D.C, he's the first to make every unreasonable demand in the book... and he's often the first shown the door and blacklisted for it, all because he believes he should be given everything before having to earn it. Or how about Monte, the Python, how about you, Monte? Running papers back and forth and running the company’s media accounts; well... I mean that as your job title anyway. But don't let ole Monte fool you; the guy would look for any excuse in the book to offload his duties to a young intern while playing Runescape on company time and taking three hour lunches at Olive Garden all while trying to get his hands on that Endless Pasta Pass. I can only assume the powers that be caught onto your act, otherwise you'd still be in the back collecting an easy check for minimal effort.
Monte the Python: So what if I did? You and MAX; yawl both got yo asses handed to ya during yo little hugfest!
Pendragon: Anyone can catch somebody from behind with the element of surprise; cowardice requires very little effort. It's easy to talk the talk but can you walk the walk? Can you back up your words with actions when they matter most? I could dissect and analyze the two of you all day, I could muse about your collective insecurities and your moral deficiencies; your need for attention in a pursuit and an attempt of self-validation, even the metaphorical masks the two of you wear to try to keep your fragile illusions of self in tact and hanging by a thread. But; I realize that'd be an exercise in futility; you've both given up on yourselves and you can't help a man that doesn't want to help himself. It's not a language either of you understand or want to... but if you wanted a fight; all you had to do was ask. But hey, don't take my word for it…
”LET’S GET DANGEROUS!”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell what was next. Metallica’s “Seek and Destroy” blasted the ears off the Gimnasio with a deafening pop for the only dual-sport athlete in Whirlwind history, MAX Danger! But, where was he? The music played for another minute or so with RUIN and Monte looking around nervously, but there was no sign of MAX.
RUIN: Where’s your boyfriend at, little boy?
Monte the Python: Don’t think that foo’ is here. Probably got scared after the way we embarrassed his behind last month! But if ol’ Mr talks-too-much is lookin’ for a fight…
Suddenly, the tense vibe in the Gimnasio roared to life again as the ring mat began to open. From under it, a big, dark, angry man was quickly pulling himself up…
Pendragon: You might want to turn around…
Just on cue, the two of them turn around right into a HUGE right hand from MAX! The punch clocks RUIN right across the jaw, while Monte backs the hell up like a scared little puppy.
MAX Danger: Man, y’all talk way too damn much, thought we was gonna fight tonight?
Thatcher: MAX Danger, always the man of impeccable timing, haha.
Monte’s complexion turned as pale as could be in the face of the underground mixed martial arts legend, and it was all he could do to backpedal his way out of the ring. Without falling over his scared, trembling little knees!
“Man, forget you, punk. Tryna come creep up on the Meat Sauce Mafia like that!”, Monte yelled half inaudibly with no mic.
MAX Danger: Yo, anytime yo sorry butt is feelin’ it, you just come find me lil bitch. We’ll square up and I’ma make sure yo ass don’t ever get involved in my business again. And as for you, Pendragon...the pleasure is mine. We’re gonna have our fight, we gonna see who the better fighter is...and it sure as hell ain’t Monte the Bitch!
Pendragon nodded on the outside while Monte dragged RUIN out under the bottom rope to help his Mafia brother from ringside.
Thatcher: There it is. Folks, I’m getting word that next month at our October show, All Hallows Eve, the Meat Sauce Mafia is going to get a chance to prove all their words here tonight, when they take on the team of Pendragon, and MAX Danger. I for one, cannot wait to see Monte get in the ring and go face to face with either of these two men. Hope your life insurance is paid up, Monte!
International Whirlwind Championship
Tag Team Match
Tag Team Match
Stephen Callaway© & ? vs Joe Jones & James Kelloggs Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris
Joe Jones, and the masked hero we know and love BESTER – err, I mean Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris were all smiles in the ring. OGDA looked genuinely happy, while Joe’s smile was one of a certain mischievous victory. After dumping the world’s smallest badass for the night in favour of the unstoppable juggernaut of smiles and positivity, his plans had finally come to fruition.
Thatcher: Like him or not, you can’t help but admire the ingenuity of Joe Jones here tonight. OGDA’s strength is unmatchable and James Kelloggs has shown prior to be skittish of Stephen’s Calsi Kick. I’m sure their friendship is strong, but Joe is doing business tonight. He’s got all the focus in the world on becoming the first ever two-time IWC; and there’s nothing anyone will do to stop him.
Cold’s “Remedy” plays to welcome out the reigning IWC, Stephen Callaway. With the Championship proudly sat atop his left shoulder, he produced a mic with his right hand to address his people.
Stephen Callaway: So Joe Jones seems to have it all figured out. He had a friend, he even pulled the last minute bait and switch, and it would seem my days as the champion are numbered. As you can see, I’m even alone right now…
“BOOOOOOO!”
“YOU CAN DO THIS!”
“DON’T GIVE UP!”
Callaway smirked at the chants before slapping the faceplate of the beautiful Championship.
Stephen Callaway: It would be easy to admit I’ve been out-smarted and defeated by the intellect of Joe Jones. And while I may be strong, I’d be foolish to enter the ring alone to face the mammoth that is Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris and try to match strength…
Thatcher: What is he saying? I’ve never known Stephen Callaway to give up!
Stephen takes the title from his shoulder and begins to lay it on the aisle at his feet. But, just as he unfolds the second strap, he stops and looks up at the ring, locking eyes with Joe Jones direct.
Stephen Callaway: But...I’ve ALWAYS, got an angle. And I dug down deep when I was looking for the perfect partner to defend my Championship with. And it wasn’t until I made an eleventh hour phone call to one of my best, most trusted friends, that I knew I could count on…
With both fingers pointed back to the curtain, Lil Troy’s “Wanna Be a Baller” surprised the Gimnasio, and Joe Jones alike, to see the man who would be Stephen’s partner;
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen, the International Whirlwind Champion Stephen Callaway and the “Epitome of Epic” making his return to the squared circle for the first time in four years...B. Epic, they are; EPPPPIIICCCC!!!! ANNNGGLLLLEEEE!!!
Thatcher: For the first time since...oh my God, since the Kingdom of Pride in 2010, B. Epic and Stephen Callaway have joined together for one more match!! Look at Joe’s face!
Joe was dumbstruck! Amid all his planning, contingencies, and contingencies for his contingencies, Stephen Callaway had the angle that he never could have imagined!
Stephen and B. Epic shared a double high five before retrieving his Championship from the aisleway then finally making their way to ringside. The two split to the perpendicular corners then in unison, jump from the floor to the ring to a loud pop.
Thatcher: Amazing. Nine years later and their chemistry is still on point!
Joe rolled his eyes, feigning an unimpressed demeanor. Nothing was gonna stand in his way of reclaiming HIS Championship tonight and to prove it, he was gonna start this match off himself. On the other side was Stephen and B. Epic doing rock paper scissors to start the match, with Callaway losing so he’d take the ring first.
Thatcher: Here we go folks, our second main event of twenty-nineteen and it would start off with two day one Whirlwind performers, fighting over the right to own the richest prize in the history of this company; the International Whirlwind Championship.
Joe made the first move as he leaned in close, but it was Callaway that took his arm and whipped him to the mat with an arm drag. Joe hit the mat and sprung back up, with Callaway again slinging him to the mat with a second arm drag! This time Joe slapped the mat and got up slower on his own terms, first to a knee and then his feet while Callaway went back to the well – but this time Joe ducked behind, wrapping his arms around Callaway’s waist in a rear waistlock. Callaway struggled with impunity before sending a back elbow to Joe’s face, which Joe ducked, before finally whipping Callaway into the ropes. On the return, Joe hits a near picture perfect dropkick catching Callaway flush on the chest and sending him to his back! Joe quickly follows him in with a pin and a hook of the near leg as senior referee “The Jazz” makes a count;
1!
Stephen kicks out!
Unfazed, Joe gets back to his feet, soon after being met by Callaway. Joe sweeps the leg, but Callaway jumps like a jump rope before bringing his knee down across the side of Joe’s face. Brutal. Callaway then hits the opposite rope, to which B. Epic slaps his shoulder which prompts Callaway to stop while B leaps from apron to top rope, to Callaway’s shoulders to a set of double knees across Joe’s chest! He sticks the landing and remains seated as such, prompting The Jazz to drop into position;
1!
2!
Joe kicks out!
The crowd was on fire for B’s return to the ring, just as athletic as ever, he looked like he hadn’t even lost a step! B stood up and waited for Joe, who took his sweet time getting his bearings straight. When he finally did though, it took no time for B to step up, and tag Joe behind the ear with a step-up enziguri, sending the former champ right back to the mat! B again makes the cover, prompting OGDA to make the save!
Thatcher: A bit uncharacteristic of the superhero...he probably just got excited.
B stood up and stared down with the bigger man, but OGDA wanted no part of this. He backed up and returned to his corner because those are the rules, and rules are meant to be followed. B stared at the biggest hero, maybe even breathed a sigh of relief when –
The Jazz slips into position and counts the quick roll up by Joe Jones!
1!
2!
B kicks out!
Thatcher: Joe Jones out of nowhere off the OGDA distraction! How would Stephen have reacted if his long time friend and partner just lost his own Championship?!
B sat up as Joe slipped in behind with a reverse chinlock, shouting at the young but seasoned pro that he shouldn’t be here. The Gimnasio, however, ever their own minds…
“CHINLOCK CITY!”
clap, clap, clapclapclap
“CHINLOCK CITY!”
clap, clap, clapclapclap
Joe paid them no mind however as he synched the hold in tighter, Callaway encouraging his partner to fight back to his own corner.
Thatcher: Smart by Joe here, slow the pace down because you know if B. Epic is allowed to move, you won’t be able to keep up with him.
B slowly started to move, ever-so-slightly repositioning his body to get out from under Joe’s pressure. Callaway started clapping along, which prompted the Gimnasio to follow suit and even Beste – err I mean OGDA to do the same! Because who doesn’t like to clap? Joe could feel the momentum beginning to slip under his hold, and he had to do something. Then it hit him. Removing one arm from the hold, Joe used the now-free arm to elbow B right in the side of the neck! This put him right back to sleep, giving Joe the chance to walk back to his corner, tagging in the hero of Mexico, OGDA!
Thatcher: Listen to this crowd for Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris! Monterrey sure loves their hero!
OGDA stepped into the ring, and it was like a rush of endorphins washed over his body! It’s been almost a year since he’s been able to do the one thing he loves second only to his kitty Spartacus, and you could tell he was excited! After taking it all in, he looked at B whom was just sitting up, albeit rubbing his neck after that elbow strike. B looked up in time to see a running knee strike from the hero, though he low bridged it, matrix style and OGDA went stumbling forward into Callaway’s corner, whom was all too eager to catch the big man with a rope-assisted guillotine off the top rope! OGDA stumbled around while B quickly scrambled to his feet and into the closest ropes to OGDA. With one foot on the middle rope, he springs back, doing a one-eighty degree rotation with his right foot extended to connect with “The Epic” (Springboard Carbon Footprint) on OGDA – but he slaps him away!
Thatcher: WOW! What a display of power!
Sensing the end was near, Callaway hit the ring, behind OGDA, almost stalking him.
Thatcher: We’ve seen this before…
Quickly, Callaway steps forward, wrapping both hands around OGDA’s neck in the Calsimission (Tazzmission)! OGDA thrashes about wildly and Joe enters the ring to save his partner – but eats a drop toe hold, as his leg gets swept by a just coming to B. Epic! The impact from the fall sends Joe into OGDA, which sends OGDA back into the turnbuckle, crushing Callaway between them! B is the first to stand up, but is followed soon after by Joe – an athletic mismatch if ever there were one.
B nails Joe with a stiff left hand, to which Joe retaliates with a stinging knife-edge chop. This left-hand and chop trade proceeds for a few iterations before Joe gets the upper hand with a sneak rabbit punch to the gut of B. Joe smirks, he’s not into the hype of B. Epic, and knows that he could do anything he could do better. He approaches the side ropes, and places his foot on the middle. With a deep breath he springs off the ropes with a beautiful double axel jump (that’s two-and-a-half rotations, for those not familiar with ice skating)
BUT GETS CAUGHT WITH A HIGH KNEE TO THE FACE FROM B!!
Thatcher: Oh no, Joe! What beautiful form, but that high knee strike was bowling shoe ugly!
The impact sends Joe down hard as he holds his nose, while B goes instinctively into the pin. The Jazz however waves it off, saying Joe isn’t legal. Waitaminute, Joe isn’t legal?!
B gets unceremoniously pulled to his feet by OGDA and wrapped up tight in a belly-to-belly form, before being launched overhead with the “Huggy Time” (Bayley to Belly)! B crashes to the mat hard while OGDA goes to check on his friend Joe Jones, whom orders him to look out for Callaway whom is just now rising out of the corner. Joe slowly crawls back to his corner as OGDA stalks Callaway, catching him out of the corner with the “Huggy Time”, also throwing him with a thunderous belly-to-belly suplex!
Thatcher: Do we have a new champion imminently? Can anyone stop Orgulloso Guardian Del Arcoiris?!
OGDA looks to his corner to see Joe Jones leaning over the top rope, begging for a tag. OGDA looks down at the remnants of Epic Angle and the marvelous carnage of Joe Jones’ plan actually unfolding like Nostradamus, then questioningly he TAGS JOE IN!!
Thatcher: What is he doing, he could have walked away as the International Whirlwind Champion right now…
With the most smug of expressions on his face, Joe stepped back into the ring and picked up the dead weight of Stephen Callaway. He set him into a reverse headlock, reverse DDT position…
“I told you! This is MY TIME! MY TITLE! MY COMPANY!”
That was it. It was that exact moment. Joe kicked his leg back, and it was “Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am” (Crossrhodes)! The Gimnasio sat in a deafening, mortified silence at what they just witnessed. Joe Jones had called his shot, and on this night, live at RANCOR! he had delivered on exactly that!
Joe stood up, through heavy breathing, he spat down on Callaway’s body. The ultimate form of disrespect…then, he set his sights across the ring, only for his moment to be interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. He brushed it aside, but the hand grabbed him and spun him around – it was OGDA, staring him face to face!
Thatcher: Waitaminute, what are we doing here…
Joe pushes his friend back, “stay back, I’m gonna win this match for you and I!” But OGDA didn’t respond. “Helloooo?” No answer. Joe shrugged and spun back around. That was when it happened.
OGDA suddenly took Joe by the waist, and lifted him up in the air, planting him with a HUUUGGGGEEEE, THUUUNNNDDEEERRROOUUUSSSS, “deep six powerbomb”! The Gimnasio looked on in questionable, unblinking shock…
Thatcher: That looked familiar…damn it what just happened here?!
OGDA pullss Joe across the mat, lying him out there like he was about to be hung from a cross, then while standing above him, he reached behind his head, ripping off the mask revealing for everyone to see;
Thatcher: THE MASTODON?! WHAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING?!
Waking up from the corner after the first thunderous “Huggy Time” was B. Epic, as he crawled to the confusing sight he was witnessing. With nothing The Jazz could do, B. Epic throws his left arm over Joe’s probably broken, shattered body, to which The Jazz makes the count;
1!
2!
3!
Cruz Bleckley: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners as a result of a pinfall, representing Epic Angle...Stephen Callaway and THE NNNEEEEWWWWW INTERNATIONAL WHIRLWIND CHAMPION; B. EPPPIIIIICCCC!!
Lil Troy’s “Wanna Be a Baller” hits as The Jazz hands the Championship to B. Epic, just in time for Callaway to come to and witness what has to be seen as...a betrayal? A traitorous act against a brother-in-arms?
Abruptly, the music cuts as the cameras focus on the top of the aisle as a very rotund, morbidly obese man waddles half way down of course with a mic in hand.
?: Remember me, Joe?! I remember Southern Florida too, and the way you stole that contract from me! You stranded me with nowhere to go, no money to get out! But guess what…I’m your worst nightmare now…
Thatcher: Nanook…the history between this man and Joe Jones goes as far back as time will tell.
Nanook: And you see that man there, the one that brutalized you? Get used to seeing him, because that man is my new client. He is The Mastodon, we met in Southern Florida right as you left. And now, you can expect to see much, much more of him because he, myself, and the Whirlwind? We’re all signed to a very, very lengthy, lucrative contract…that expires one day after yours!
Thatcher: Oh no! Folks, what a way to close out RANCOR! and boy did it ever live up to it’s name! We’ve got a new champion in spite of the now ex-Champion being on the winning side, we’ve got Nanook back with a vengeance, The Mastodon, and what about the Meat Sauce Mafia? Surely they won’t take what happened earlier lying down. For now, we’re out of time so make sure you catch us again on October thirty-first, All Hallows Eve! Join us, and see if Pendragon and MAX Danger can put the kibosh on the Meat Sauce Mafia, what’s next with Joe Jones and Nanook, how Stephen Callaway will respond to his brother-in-arms win, and of course, will B. Epic choose truth, or dare, to kick off his championship reign?! Thanks for watching everyone, good night!
