The Crossroads: #OneMoreTime
Sept 2, 2016 20:00:29 GMT -5
Post by Silver Eagle on Sept 2, 2016 20:00:29 GMT -5
It was a unique sort of location, not in and of itself by looks - who would think that a simple place where two roads happened to meet way, way out in the country would have weight to it? But the facts were that a place like this was both nowhere and somewhere all at the same time. The veil between was thinner here, hoodoo men and women would seek to dispose of tricks, spells, what have you in just such a place as this. Usually, that is. This particular crossroads however, had a Claim on it, and according to local superstition things happened out here. Untoward things, dark things even.
They say while it was not the spot that Robert Johnson sold his soul to “the devil” that if a body had determination and a list of questionable things to bury - a picture of themselves, graveyard dirt, a black cat’s bone, and yarrow? That certain things could maybe, possibly, likely happen. The air was heavy here, almost oppressively hot with the advent of night, Summer nearly gone and Fall around the corner hadn’t broken the heat, the humidity that hung their pall over the darkening road. A shimmer came from the moon, full when it should have only been a waxing crescent, illuminating certain features, and making the road gleam like a white ribbon and the fence to the left look soft and warm save for a few small details.
There were dark lines over the pale wood, meandering and nearly black, the shine that spoke ‘wet’ on them as well… and as the eye was drawn to the top split rail of the fence to see what had created those lines. There were along the top, arranged in haphazard fashion, thirteen severed fingers stood up like soldiers, or witnesses to what might happen where those roads met, and those dark lines were of course blood that still dripped from each one.
He stood up from near the very center of the road, tall and austere, his features set to inscrutable as the toe of his heavy boot smoothed over a small scattering of freshly turned dirt. He squared his shoulders and took a step back, rolling up the sleeves of his summer-weight shirt as he did so, the rare breeze coming through to stir his dark locks as he counted his breaths, the tune of that certain song playing in his head, a very quiet rough chuckle as he whispered.
“Standin' at the crossroad, I tried to flag a ride. Didn't nobody seem to know me, everybody pass me by.”
There was a pause then, as the night sounds around him suddenly stopped. There was no lead in, just sudden silence from the crickets and animals that had been rustling in the bushes as that breeze picked up and swirled over the dirt he had tamped down with his hands, and then his boot. Behind him came a soft, breathy whisper, one that while he did not know it intimately, he knew nonetheless.
“Are you fucking serious right now, Andreas?”
Her voice, and a smile came for an instant, it tugged the corners of his lips upwards as he turned on the ball of his foot to come around to face her.
There she stood, Rori - once Aurora Jansen, her arms crossed over her generous chest as she stood there in her usual lowrise jeans, a plain white t-shirt (surprising) and her bare feet shifted on the dirt of the road, making her toe rings shine in the moonlight.
“You could have picked up the phone, you know.”
A wave of her hand vaguely at their surroundings, and he noticed her expression shift as those amazing green eyes focused on that row of gruesome decorative fingers along that fence, her fence and she turned that gaze to his face, reading him for long moments.
“Well. Perhaps you couldn’t afterall.”
She shook her head, those blond locks looking far darker right then, and her expression fought between amused and curious before coming to its usual default.
“I can’t guess that you actually want to make a deal, but you want something and it’s weighing on you. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be here with all these delicious little questions.”
He took a step toward her, and Rori tipped her head to the left, those eyes widening just a touch as he spoke.
“I have some questions as well.”
Rori’s full lips quirked, and she leaned in towards him as they stood opposite each other, the ends of his boots almost brushing her bare toes. She went up on those toes, to best look him in the eye, and then she whispered even softer.
“Andreas? You need to wake up.”
---
Some stories are easily forgotten. Others stand the test of time, drilling into your mind, becoming buried, ingrained into the very fabric of your being. Over and over and over again they will replay in your mind’s eye, ever repeating to the sounds of drums and warfare. In an industry in which every single day brings something old, something borrowed or something blue… rare it is that something fresh, something true, something new comes along and not only lights a flame under the sport of professional wrestling… but rains napalm down upon the fucking Earth.
That day was August the Twelfth, Two Thousand and Thirteen.
---
Aug 12, 2013 – EXPRO On FX#1
Talfourd leaps forward with a knee, and Andreas springboards from off the ropes with one of his own, and their stereo knee strikes land with impeccable precision, and a deadly force.
“DUELING PEACEMAKERS!”
Wulf doesn't have to wait long to get reacquainted with hid partner, as the Morning Star stalks him. Skulking behind him, Andreas waits for the opportune time to strike, and when the opportunity presents himself, he moves with haste. He lifts the Englishman across his shoulders in an Argentine Back rack, meanwhile Talfourd bounces on the middle rope, preparing for one of the most deadliest finishing manoeuvres in not just tag team wrestling, but ALL of professional wrestling.
“And here it comes.... FORGET ALL HOPE!”
The Moonsault/Reverse DDT combination spells the immediate doom for the team of Lenton and Erikssen as Andreas holds on for the cover.
“DUELING PEACEMAKERS!”
Wulf doesn't have to wait long to get reacquainted with hid partner, as the Morning Star stalks him. Skulking behind him, Andreas waits for the opportune time to strike, and when the opportunity presents himself, he moves with haste. He lifts the Englishman across his shoulders in an Argentine Back rack, meanwhile Talfourd bounces on the middle rope, preparing for one of the most deadliest finishing manoeuvres in not just tag team wrestling, but ALL of professional wrestling.
“And here it comes.... FORGET ALL HOPE!”
The Moonsault/Reverse DDT combination spells the immediate doom for the team of Lenton and Erikssen as Andreas holds on for the cover.
---
It was the second of a series of three matches that very night, a night that would carve the names of Andreas Lasiewicz and Sally Talfourd into gold, would carve those names into history, would carve those names into the very fabric of not only professional wrestling, but into EXODUS as a whole. That very night, The Turks cemented themselves as the true Tag Team champions of the world, and the world took notice.
Little would the world know that something else was born that night, through blood, through sweat, through tears. Through broken dreams and anguished screams… more trouble would await.
---
Sep 23, 2013 – No Church In The Wild
Sally lands a snapmare on Wulf then gets an armbar on the arm Andreas weakened earlier with the hammerlock. After about fifteen seconds of pure agony, Wulf gets his ankle on the bottom rope. Sally uses this opening of Wulf holding on to his arm to land her signature Implant Buster, causing Wulf to drop to the mat. Cover by Sally.
ONE!!
Lenton is in the ring to try to break up the pin.
TWO!!
Lasiewicz gets in the ring too and hits a clothesline on Lenton to stop any breaking up the pin.
THREEkickout.
“Wait, was that three?”
“It might have been. Wulf got his shoulder up right as the referee’s hand hit the ground. I couldn’t tell which happened first.”
“Judgment call here by the official…he’s calling for the bell.”
“Turks retain in a very hard fought battle. That was a tough call on TROUBLE. Just a fraction too late!”
ONE!!
Lenton is in the ring to try to break up the pin.
TWO!!
Lasiewicz gets in the ring too and hits a clothesline on Lenton to stop any breaking up the pin.
THREEkickout.
“Wait, was that three?”
“It might have been. Wulf got his shoulder up right as the referee’s hand hit the ground. I couldn’t tell which happened first.”
“Judgment call here by the official…he’s calling for the bell.”
“Turks retain in a very hard fought battle. That was a tough call on TROUBLE. Just a fraction too late!”
---
The second meeting between these two sets of titans brought controversy as opposed from pure spectacle. Whilst the first outing garnered the attention of the wrestling press for the lengths that that the two teams went to, this one was heavily marred by the call of a supposedly controversial refereeing decision. Talk spread like wildfire of the second encounter, calls of injustice, calls of corruption, calls to see this tale play out… one… more… time.
---
18th November 2013 – Autumn Effect – TLC 2 – The Turks Vs. TROUBLE Vs. Gods & Monsters
Back on the inside, Lenton is stalking Lifer, looking to nail another 3:00. But out from under the ring appears Andreas Lasiewicz… Holding a long, thick biker chain. He slides into the ring and nails Lenton from behind with a chained fist to the cranium! The Big L drops to one knee, and Lasiewicz follows it up with a vile Peacemaker that makes Steve’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He then spots Lifer beginning to get up… And he starts swinging the chain around his head like a lasso.
“This doesn’t look good for Lifer…”
“It’s like Sons of Anarchy meets Indiana Jones!”
Lasiewicz whips the chain at Lifer, and it coils around his neck like a python. Lifer is struggling to breathe, gripping the chain with both hands. Andreas lolls his head to one side then yanks on the chain pulling Lifer right towards him.
“GET OVER HERE!”
Lasiewicz then nails Zack Lifer with a vicious uppercut that turns him inside out, blood spewing from his mouth as he crash lands back on the mat.
“TOASTY!”
“This doesn’t look good for Lifer…”
“It’s like Sons of Anarchy meets Indiana Jones!”
Lasiewicz whips the chain at Lifer, and it coils around his neck like a python. Lifer is struggling to breathe, gripping the chain with both hands. Andreas lolls his head to one side then yanks on the chain pulling Lifer right towards him.
“GET OVER HERE!”
Lasiewicz then nails Zack Lifer with a vicious uppercut that turns him inside out, blood spewing from his mouth as he crash lands back on the mat.
“TOASTY!”
---
As the teams met for the third time, a third entry to the series entered. Names known for excessive violence, for their urge to torment and humiliate. But involving themselves into such a scenario, in attempting to steal the prize they longed for, to involve themselves in the brutality that the world was becoming accustomed to… they would pay a heavy price.
---
Lenton is the first up. He slides out of the ring, setting up a table as he does so. He leaves this one on the outside, however, before grabbing another one and throwing it over the top rope and into the ring. Wulf is up with him, and they set up the table together. Gunner attempts to stop them, but is knocked right back down to the mat with a double clothesline. They then pick up the lifeless Lifer. Sally is up as well, and stares at the two of them for the briefest of moments. In a bizarre showing of teamwork, Wulf and Talfourd pick up Lifer and hoist him onto Lenton’s shoulders…
“Triple Powerbomb right through the table! I never expected Sally to team up with Trouble in this match.”
“And Lasiewicz is getting up now!”
Andreas is indeed up now, and has slid another table into the ring. He sets it up in the corner before retrieving a bottle of Polish Spirit from under the ring. He holds it up for the entire crowd to see as they go wild. He takes a swig, and then pours the rest on the upright table. He nods to Lenton as he does so.
“Now Lasiewicz is working alongside them?”
“Are The Turks and Trouble working together to take out Gods and Monsters? Wait… isn’t Polish Spirit flammable?”
Producing a lighter from his tights, he sets the table aflame. Gunner is rising to his feet just as Lenton charges…
“BLITZ!!! BLITZ!!! BLITZ!!!”
“Right through the flaming table! Jeeeeeessssssuuussss!”
“Triple Powerbomb right through the table! I never expected Sally to team up with Trouble in this match.”
“And Lasiewicz is getting up now!”
Andreas is indeed up now, and has slid another table into the ring. He sets it up in the corner before retrieving a bottle of Polish Spirit from under the ring. He holds it up for the entire crowd to see as they go wild. He takes a swig, and then pours the rest on the upright table. He nods to Lenton as he does so.
“Now Lasiewicz is working alongside them?”
“Are The Turks and Trouble working together to take out Gods and Monsters? Wait… isn’t Polish Spirit flammable?”
Producing a lighter from his tights, he sets the table aflame. Gunner is rising to his feet just as Lenton charges…
“BLITZ!!! BLITZ!!! BLITZ!!!”
“Right through the flaming table! Jeeeeeessssssuuussss!”
---
In the world of Turks and Troubling Times, in the land that they built upon, upon the bloodstained grass of home, if any trespassed upon what they had fought to create… they would be snuffed out as if they never existed at all. And thus, it passed that the behemoths known as Gods & Monsters would be forced down by two teams who became the most bitter of enemies, the most violent of opponents. Nobody would interfere with what they had started. But only one team would finish, and alliances would be both formed and broken in an instant.
---
Lenton shakes himself off before posing for the crowd, but as he turns…
“POLISH FIREBALL!”
“He kept some of the spirit in his mouth and he just blew a fireball in Lenton’s face! I can smell that the Big L is cookin’!”
Lenton screams out in pain, but is then silenced by another type of fire, this time The Unforgettable Fire right down onto the canvas. Wulf seeks revenge, but is span around by Talfourd and cooled off by some Summer Rain. The crowd go wild as The Turks nod to each other and each begin climbing a ladder.
“The Turks have taken everyone out! This is academic.”
“POLISH FIREBALL!”
“He kept some of the spirit in his mouth and he just blew a fireball in Lenton’s face! I can smell that the Big L is cookin’!”
Lenton screams out in pain, but is then silenced by another type of fire, this time The Unforgettable Fire right down onto the canvas. Wulf seeks revenge, but is span around by Talfourd and cooled off by some Summer Rain. The crowd go wild as The Turks nod to each other and each begin climbing a ladder.
“The Turks have taken everyone out! This is academic.”
---
Out of all the encounters these teams had, out of all the matches in the short, bloody history of EXODUS, this was the one that was spoken of most. Not in hushed tones, not whispered in the deepest darkness, but out in the open. Word spread on the back of a silver tipped eagle, soaring far and wide about the tables, the ladders, the chairs… and the flames, oh those flames. The universe took notice, and these unholy names were written down in the pages of history in the blood they shed that very night.
And yet… the tale went on…
---
“He’s climbing the ladder. He’s almost there!”
Sally Talfourd suddenly springs into view, flying in from the top rope and onto the ladder!
“A piece of magic from The Last Magician!”
The last two standing, and it’s like their standing on top of Mount Everest.
“Both are reaching for it… They are so close.”
Just then, Sally stumbles in her reach…
“Sally stumbled! Wulf just clocked her one! He’s got the belts in his hands. If he can only unhook them…”
Wulf is suddenly pulled away from the ladder!
“What the…?”
“Lasiewicz! Lasiewicz has a hold of him!”
The Morning Star powerbombs Wulf right on top of the prone Lenton before collapsing to the mat.
“And now it’s only Sally…”
Sally Talfourd suddenly springs into view, flying in from the top rope and onto the ladder!
“A piece of magic from The Last Magician!”
The last two standing, and it’s like their standing on top of Mount Everest.
“Both are reaching for it… They are so close.”
Just then, Sally stumbles in her reach…
“Sally stumbled! Wulf just clocked her one! He’s got the belts in his hands. If he can only unhook them…”
Wulf is suddenly pulled away from the ladder!
“What the…?”
“Lasiewicz! Lasiewicz has a hold of him!”
The Morning Star powerbombs Wulf right on top of the prone Lenton before collapsing to the mat.
“And now it’s only Sally…”
---
Three more matches these teams would have, three more dances upon the chessboard known as death, three more important moves in order to scream out checkmate across the board.
---
December 2, 2013 EXPRO On FX#7
“The fans are going wild for this exchange.”
“And I thought people would be sick of watching the Turks against Trouble.”
Lenton makes it to his corner first, and Wulf dives in in a blaze of glory! He grips Andreas by the legs as he lunges for his turnbuckle. He grips the turnbuckle, but is yanked off, pulling the protective covering off of it as he is. Wulf begins pounding away at Lasiewicz, fists, elbows, headbutts, everything he has in his arsenal. Andreas is struggling to get up, his mouth bloodied by the blows. Yet a sick grin is spreading upon his face.
“Why has Andreas got that grin on his face for?”
“I think that incoming from South Korean Airways has something to do with it!”
Sally Talfourd off of the top rope! Beautiful moonsault there! The match official declared a blind tag, Wulf had no idea. Lenton attempts to come in, but is nailed with a single leg dropkick from a fired up Talfourd. Andreas begins to stalk Wulf now, look at his eyes!
“Beautiful teamwork from The Turks.”
“And we know what comes next.”
“Unforgettable Fire from Andreas Lasiewicz!”
“And High Hopes from Sally Talfourd! Here’s the pin!”
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!
“And I thought people would be sick of watching the Turks against Trouble.”
Lenton makes it to his corner first, and Wulf dives in in a blaze of glory! He grips Andreas by the legs as he lunges for his turnbuckle. He grips the turnbuckle, but is yanked off, pulling the protective covering off of it as he is. Wulf begins pounding away at Lasiewicz, fists, elbows, headbutts, everything he has in his arsenal. Andreas is struggling to get up, his mouth bloodied by the blows. Yet a sick grin is spreading upon his face.
“Why has Andreas got that grin on his face for?”
“I think that incoming from South Korean Airways has something to do with it!”
Sally Talfourd off of the top rope! Beautiful moonsault there! The match official declared a blind tag, Wulf had no idea. Lenton attempts to come in, but is nailed with a single leg dropkick from a fired up Talfourd. Andreas begins to stalk Wulf now, look at his eyes!
“Beautiful teamwork from The Turks.”
“And we know what comes next.”
“Unforgettable Fire from Andreas Lasiewicz!”
“And High Hopes from Sally Talfourd! Here’s the pin!”
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!
---
Dominance, that’s what they called it. No matter what one side did, the other always held a trump card, they always had something up their sleeve, as if they could predict their opponent’s every move, could feel every breath, could anticipate their everything.
---
Sally attempts a few open strikes, but they don’t have much effect on Wulf’s tough head. She springs to the ropes and dives over with a cross body, but Erikssen squashes her with a falling slam. He recomposes himself, making the tag to Lenton. Steve begins to eye her up, he seems ready for something…
“Is it three o clock somewhere?”
“Lenton is ready to pounce on Talfourd! THERE IT IS!”
“OUCH! Right into the turnbuckle!”
“DAMN! That turnbuckle was exposed. Sally is out! But Andreas managed a tag as she went down.”
Sally has rolled out of the ring now. Andreas, now the legal man has run out to check upon her. Her head had thundered off of the exposed turnbuckle, a trickle of blood pouring from her forehead. Wulf and Lenton seem generally concerned, as if they didn’t mean for that to happen. Lenton leans over the ropes, checking if Talfourd is okay as an eerie silence spreads around the crowd.
Lasiewicz and the official are checking on Talfourd now. This isn’t looking good for The Turks.
“I’m actually concerned. Will the ref end the match here? Or will Andreas have to go it alone?”
Wulf rolls out of the ring, moving over to Lasiewicz as he watches over Talfourd. He reaches them… But is met with a vice like grip upon his throat.
“Chokeslam from Lasiewicz. I’ve never seen him do that before…”
“That’s not Lasiewicz… That’s The Morning Star!”
Andreas is in a rage, going into full Morning Star mode at the sight of his fallen tag team partner. He stamps away at Wulf with ferocious intent, never relenting. Lenton leans over to grip Andreas by the hair, pulling him up to the ring apron. But as he is pulled up, he jabs The Big L viciously in the throat, making him cough as he struggles to breathe. The Krakow Native charges in, nailing Lenton with a vile Polish Hammer. Then another. And another. He just doesn’t want to stop. The ref tries to convince him to stop, but is met with a devilish glare that makes him jump right back. Lenton begins to stir, his nose bloody from the blows but is pulled right back down by The Morning Star!
“Lasiewicz in this mind frame is just scary!”
“And here is the Crisis Core Crossface! That move ends not just matches, but careers!”
Lenton is in agony, but tries to fight the hold. Andreas is letting out a bloodcurdling roar as he wretches back. Steve looks out for his partner, but he is still out from the uncharacteristic choke slam on the outside. Lenton finally realises what is best, and taps out.
“Turks are now five and zero against Trouble!”
“Is it three o clock somewhere?”
“Lenton is ready to pounce on Talfourd! THERE IT IS!”
“OUCH! Right into the turnbuckle!”
“DAMN! That turnbuckle was exposed. Sally is out! But Andreas managed a tag as she went down.”
Sally has rolled out of the ring now. Andreas, now the legal man has run out to check upon her. Her head had thundered off of the exposed turnbuckle, a trickle of blood pouring from her forehead. Wulf and Lenton seem generally concerned, as if they didn’t mean for that to happen. Lenton leans over the ropes, checking if Talfourd is okay as an eerie silence spreads around the crowd.
Lasiewicz and the official are checking on Talfourd now. This isn’t looking good for The Turks.
“I’m actually concerned. Will the ref end the match here? Or will Andreas have to go it alone?”
Wulf rolls out of the ring, moving over to Lasiewicz as he watches over Talfourd. He reaches them… But is met with a vice like grip upon his throat.
“Chokeslam from Lasiewicz. I’ve never seen him do that before…”
“That’s not Lasiewicz… That’s The Morning Star!”
Andreas is in a rage, going into full Morning Star mode at the sight of his fallen tag team partner. He stamps away at Wulf with ferocious intent, never relenting. Lenton leans over to grip Andreas by the hair, pulling him up to the ring apron. But as he is pulled up, he jabs The Big L viciously in the throat, making him cough as he struggles to breathe. The Krakow Native charges in, nailing Lenton with a vile Polish Hammer. Then another. And another. He just doesn’t want to stop. The ref tries to convince him to stop, but is met with a devilish glare that makes him jump right back. Lenton begins to stir, his nose bloody from the blows but is pulled right back down by The Morning Star!
“Lasiewicz in this mind frame is just scary!”
“And here is the Crisis Core Crossface! That move ends not just matches, but careers!”
Lenton is in agony, but tries to fight the hold. Andreas is letting out a bloodcurdling roar as he wretches back. Steve looks out for his partner, but he is still out from the uncharacteristic choke slam on the outside. Lenton finally realises what is best, and taps out.
“Turks are now five and zero against Trouble!”
---
They began to call it a whitewash. No matter the effort, no matter the courage, the result was always the same, the story always had the same ending, the song had the same lyrics but to a slightly different tune.
---
The match has descended into anarchy! Fists and chops are flying here, there and everywhere! Lenton backs Lasiewicz into the ropes, Wulf backs up Sally. They then whip the Turks at each other.
“They are going to collide!”
“No! Sally leapfrogs over a ducking Andreas…”
“And right into a BLITZ from Lenton! Sally is down!”
“It’s two on one, this is their chance!”
“6:00 from Lenton on Lasiewicz… And he bounces into Wulf!”
“The crowd are going wild!”
“BAR ROOM BOMB!!!”
“Is this it?”
ONE…
“Lasiewicz is kicking!”
TWO…
“Sally is still down.”
THREE!!!
“It’s over! It’s over!”
“I don’t believe it!”
“The undefeated Turks are finally dethroned!”
“Unbelievable!”
‘Can You Dig It’ blasts out from the P.A system as the crowd rises to their feet. Wulf and Steve just stare at each other, wide grins of jubilation and disbelief upon their faces as they realise what they have just accomplished! There are roars from the crowd as they begin to celebrate wildly.
“Trouble may not have won the first fall, they may not have won the second, missing out on the Honor Cup… But damn, did they just win the final fall!”
“And we have NEW Tag Team champions! Everyone is going mental!”
“And Lasiewicz has the belts… This doesn’t look good…”
Andreas has indeed entered the ring with the tag belts in his hands. He is shaking with rage right now, his eyes bloodshot as he glares daggers into them. The music begins to fade away as the crowd grows nervous at what might transpire. Talfourd is now next to him, looking up at the furious Polish Spirit, unsure to what he is thinking. She takes what used to be her belt from him, then joins him glaring at Trouble. The Turks then look upon the Tag belts… before handing them over to Trouble as the crowd goes wild! Andreas merely nods his head, before turning and exiting the ring. Talfourd shakes both Wulf’s and Lenton’s hands before following her tag partner out of the ring. Trouble’s music strikes up once more as they climb the turnbuckles to celebrate their huge victory.
“They are going to collide!”
“No! Sally leapfrogs over a ducking Andreas…”
“And right into a BLITZ from Lenton! Sally is down!”
“It’s two on one, this is their chance!”
“6:00 from Lenton on Lasiewicz… And he bounces into Wulf!”
“The crowd are going wild!”
“BAR ROOM BOMB!!!”
“Is this it?”
ONE…
“Lasiewicz is kicking!”
TWO…
“Sally is still down.”
THREE!!!
“It’s over! It’s over!”
“I don’t believe it!”
“The undefeated Turks are finally dethroned!”
“Unbelievable!”
‘Can You Dig It’ blasts out from the P.A system as the crowd rises to their feet. Wulf and Steve just stare at each other, wide grins of jubilation and disbelief upon their faces as they realise what they have just accomplished! There are roars from the crowd as they begin to celebrate wildly.
“Trouble may not have won the first fall, they may not have won the second, missing out on the Honor Cup… But damn, did they just win the final fall!”
“And we have NEW Tag Team champions! Everyone is going mental!”
“And Lasiewicz has the belts… This doesn’t look good…”
Andreas has indeed entered the ring with the tag belts in his hands. He is shaking with rage right now, his eyes bloodshot as he glares daggers into them. The music begins to fade away as the crowd grows nervous at what might transpire. Talfourd is now next to him, looking up at the furious Polish Spirit, unsure to what he is thinking. She takes what used to be her belt from him, then joins him glaring at Trouble. The Turks then look upon the Tag belts… before handing them over to Trouble as the crowd goes wild! Andreas merely nods his head, before turning and exiting the ring. Talfourd shakes both Wulf’s and Lenton’s hands before following her tag partner out of the ring. Trouble’s music strikes up once more as they climb the turnbuckles to celebrate their huge victory.
---
And thus, our little history lesson draws to a close. Six matches all in all, six matches tall and strong, six matches right and wrong. Through whispers and thoughts, these matches have been hammered into the memory of fan and competitor alike, not just in the company they were showcased in, but the industry as a whole. And now, the wild dance of madness is ready to be played out again, on another battlefield, a more stable ground of war not littered with landmine or debris. The world looked back and cried out for more, screamed #OneLastTime and the north east answered… yes.
It took six attempts for TROUBLE to dethrone the Turks. They truly were the purest image of the phrase, “if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again.” They may as well have made billboards, t-shirts, capitalized on the opportunity and watched it bear endless fruit.
But they didn’t.
As many believed this tale to have ended, Sally Talfourd and Andreas Lasiewicz went their separate ways. Both went on to pastures new, some following madness, some following righteousness, both following the path of glory. Tournaments were won, champions were crowned, names were sung in unity for the holy art of victory. And yet, the people still called for them to reunite. For three long years people begged on hand and knee, praying to the wrestling gods above to grant their wishes true.
And the gods of Frontier Grappling Arts smiled upon them.
Steve Lenton and Wulf Erikssen followed a different path. They floundered in their glory, falling by the wayside, not being able to live up to the reputation they once painted upon the squared circle’s canvas. Wulf now tries to live through the boots of his protégés, clinging to them for dear life as he cries to them to carry him over the breach #OneMoreTime. Lenton himself fell too, not managing the success of his tales in TROUBLE, nor his International fairytales.
One team took one path. One team took another. Who would have thought that those paths would cross #OneMoreTime… #OneLastTime.
We find ourselves at the crossroads once more… It is time we struck a bargain with the gods of the wrestling world.
Wake up… It’s real…
Remember the Turks when the world comes to take you…
#OneMoreTime.
