Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:47:27 GMT -5
[small]And now, Vertigo and Flashpoint present…[/small]
The scene shifts to an outside shot of the KeyArena in Seattle, Washington! We then transition inside the arena, where white fireworks shoot off in various patterns. We then head to a wide shot of the arena. The camera pans around, capturing the rabid crowd.
Kris Cruise: Welcome everyone, to the Emerald City! Welcome… to GLORY ROAD! Hello everyone, I am Kris Cruise and joining me right now is my colleague, Stephy Auger! Also joining us here tonight to call all of the action from the other brand is Flashpoint’s very own Geoff Penzer. Geoff, welcome!
Geoff Penzer: Thank you, Kris! Wrestling fans, we are coming to you live from the KeyArena here in Seattle, Washington! We are just a day away from All-Star Showdown Seven, which will surely be one of the biggest shows in this company’s history! But tonight, we present to you FGA’s latest supercard here on AxxessNet! We’ve got a great lineup for you from both Vertigo and Flashpoint. Isn’t that right, Stephy!
Stephy Auger: We sure do. But while Trashpoint makes up the undercard, it will be two grapplers from Vertigo that will take their rightful place in the main event. This is just another example of why Vertigo is better than Flashpoint!
Kris Cruise: Geoff, I sincerely apologize for my partner’s disrespect.
Geoff Penzer: It’s okay, Kris. Her words don’t phase me.
Stephy Auger: Excuse me!?
Geoff Penzer: Tonight we’ve got a ton of wall-to-wall action for all of you watching on AxxessNet. For starters, it’s the battle of the big men as Sloan Talbot takes on A.C. Smith in tonight’s opening contest! Talbot didn’t take too kindly to Smith ending his run in the Gold Rush Rumble and eliminating him. So as payback, Talbot jumped Smith while he was trying to help Flashpoint during the Vertigo invasion several weeks back. Things have continued to escalate to the point where we’re at tonight. If you like submission wrestling and seeing guys trading holds, then this isn’t the match for you. But if you like to see two hosses going blow for blow, then this once should be right up your ally. I don’t think we’re going to see too many wrist locks, if any, in this one.
Kris Cruise: No, I don’t believe we will.
Geoff Penzer: Up next is another match that’s been brewing for some time now, and that’s Brookford taking on Sage Clark. These two butted heads a while back. But things took an ugly turn when Clark was put out of action thanks to an uncalled for attack by Brookford. Since returning to active competition, Clark has been a thorn in Brookford’s side. With the match finally on, I expect things thing to get ugly in a hurry.
Geoff Penzer: Speaking of ugly, the personal issues between Salem Kaiser and Alex Chalwell went from bad to worse a couple of weeks ago when Chawell left Kaiser laid out in the parking lot with a cowardly attack. From the moment Alex Chalwell walked through those doors, Chalwell has carried himself with an air of arrogance.
Stephy Auger: As he should!
Geoff Penzer: But when the returning Salem Kaiser showed back up a few weeks ago, she was quick to put Chalwell in his place. That hasn’t sat well with the Virgin Islander and we saw his retaliation a few weeks back on the last episode of Flashpoint. Now he has to deal with a Witch that is out for a revenge. I wouldn’t want to be in his position tonight.
Kris Cruise: Neither would I.
Geoff Penzer: Then in our headliner, former World Tag Team Champion Ashley Sullivan goes one on one with Tristan Ambrose! This goes all the way back to Ambrose feeling slighted because in his mind, the red carpet was “rolled out” for Sullivan while he got nothing. The two then crossed paths in the Rumble and have found themselves on opposite sides of the ring ever since. Ambrose hasn’t shied away from upping the physicality in this feud. But things really got turned up a notch over a month ago when Ambrose’s goons, Gunnar and Ragnar, debuted and helped him take out Sullivan backstage! The trio tried to triple team Sullivan again on the last episode of Flashpoint. But Sullivan’s allies, Ashley Marie Chase and Antoinette Sands, made their FGA debuts by coming out to make the save. Now that the odds have been evened, Ambrose has no one to hide behind here tonight!
Kris Cruise: Then in our main event, it’s going to be Malcolm Drake taking on Chris Bond in a Dog Collar Match! There’s no disqualification! No countout! These two have been at each other’s throats for months, even after Drake helped Team Page defeat The New Murder in Steel Warfare at A New Odyssey! This feud feud between these two has gotten out of control, with backstage officials, fellow grapplers and even some of our great fans being put in danger due to the recklessness of these two! But tonight, they will be locked together by two collars and a chain. I’m expecting nothing but brutality in that one.
Geoff Penzer: We’ve got a solid night of action. So let’s send it on over to the ring for tonight’s opening contest!
Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:47:46 GMT -5
✦ SINGLES MATCH ✦ Sloan Talbot vs. A.C. Smith
The match starts with a stare down as both men meet in the center of the ring. The fans in attendance rally behind The Big Apple Asskicker as they jaw jack for a moment, trading verbal blows before Talbot strikes first. A huge forearm strike rocks AC Smith where he stands, but he just fires one right back. The two men continue trading blows for a few seconds before Sloan blocks one and counters with a side headlock to slow the pace.
It doesn’t take long for Smith to push his opponent against the ropes, summoning up the force needed to push Sloan across the ring. The big men collide in the center of the ring again, this time with a shoulder barge. But neither man budges an inch. A brief staredown follows as, this time, it’s AC Smith who goes against the ropes to come back with a shoulder barge. But Talbot stands tall. More trash talk is spoken as neither man wants to back down; they both run against opposite ropes this time, clashing in the center of the ring as Talbot staggers back a few steps upon impact. AC seizes the opportunity and runs against the ropes, coming back with another shoulder barge as Talbot stumbles back against the ropes, before charging at his foe with a shoulder barge of his own. The force sends the Big Apple Asskicker back against the ropes this time, but as he comes back he mows Talbot down!
The match continues as Smith moves his opponent into the corner and nails him with some forearm strikes and knife edge chops. An Irish whip follows, sending Talbot from pillar to post as Smith follows him in with a running clothesline. From there, AC is able to land a few more knife edge chops to the chest before he brings Sloan out of the corner. Some more strikes wear down Sloan before AC goes for an Irish whip, only to see it reversed. But AC rebounds off the ropes with a lariat that knocks Talbot down, and sends him barrelling out of the ring!
Talbot wants to gather his bearings on the outside, but AC has no intention on allowing him the opportunity; Smith follows his opponent around the ring, bouncing Sloan’s head off the apron and ring posts before rolling him back into the ring. An early pin attempt scores him a two count. Smith keeps the pressure on for a few minutes, working over Sloan in the corner; chops and forearms connecting in between Irish whips that see Talbot sent across the ring in both directions. The crowd seems to be getting behind Smith as he takes Sloan down with a stalling suplex, scoring himself another two count in the process.
But the advantage doesn’t last. Smith goes to the well once too often and sees a running clothesline to the corner countered by a big boot, before Talbot drills him with a lariat! The Monaco native takes a moment to catch his breath again. He starts with some forearm and elbow strikes, rocking AC where he stands once again. The action picks up moments later as the ring shakes upon a thunderous Samoan drop! And the crowd don’t seem to appreciate Sloan’s cold demeanor in regards to his opponent. He brings AC to the corner, working him over with shoulder thrusts and knee strikes as the referee tries to break them up before the ten count, only to get scared off by Sloan Talbot. As he turns back to his opponent, Sloan gets thrown into the corner by AC Smith, who lands a couple of big shots. But a wayward clothesline attempt gets ducked, and Sloan has the upper hand once again.
Talbot picks up a two count moments later after a huge running powerslam, showing off his strength. But AC gets the shoulder up in the nick of time. That’s soon followed up a spinebuster in the center in the ring, but again AC kicks out at two! Even then Sloan doesn’t let his emotions show as he brings Smith back up to a kneeling position. Talbot slaps his opponent around the face, drawing some boos from the crowd. And again. Smith picks himself up as Sloan slaps him again – only for AC to fire back with a forearm smash to the face! And another! The crowd getting behind the Big Apple Asskicker again until Sloan goes low with a boot to the gut. He runs against the ropes moments later, presumably for a running big boot – but AC Smith catches him with a side slam for a two count! But he’s not done yet. Smith wraps his arms around his opponent’s waist and hoists Sloan back to his feet for a huge German suplex! The crowd pop as the ring shakes once again, but the pin attempt only gets him a two count!
This time, Smith takes a moment to psyche himself up again as he waits in the corner. Sloan is holding his back as he stands back up, staggering backwards into the arms of AC Smith. An inverted headlock is applied as Smith connects with three colossal forearm strikes to the chest, before finishing the Police Lineup (inverted headlock elbow drop). The crowd cheering as AC climbs to the middle rope. He manages to get some air time before connecting with a spinning elbow, followed by a standing elbow drop. But still he can only get a two count.
Smith brings his opponent back to his feet again, and unleashes yet more strikes to the chest and head as he backs Talbot against the ropes. An Irish whip follows as Smith lowers his head for a back body drop…but Sloan has it scouted. A boot to the face has AC reeling, and the elbow smash that follows sends Smith out through the ropes onto the apron. The running big boot that follows sends Smith flying off the apron though, and crashing into the guard rail! The crowd turn again, booing heavily as Sloan Talbot leans across the top rope, looking down at his opponent.
The action doesn’t stay outside for long, as AC Smith manages to make his way back up onto the apron. Sloan’s ready for him, though, catching AC with some stiff strikes to the head. From there, Sloan displays an impressive amount of strength as he performs the Enter Tragedy (Superplex From Apron) on the 275lb’er! And the cover. ONE! TWO! THR-NO!
Now the emotion is beginning to seep through as Sloan drags his opponent back to his feet in the center of the ring. He lands a forearm smash, but AC fires one back! The crowd booing and cheering respectively as the two big men trade blows, going back and forth until – out of nowhere – AC Smith drills Talbot with an Ace Crusher! Both men are down for a moment, until Smith crawls across and hooks the leg. ONE! TWO! THR-NO!
Smith can’t quite believe it as he stands back up, holding his back in pain after that superplex. His chest heaving with every breath as he drags Sloan back to his feet again. Smith grabs his opponent and lifts him overhead with a gorilla press slam, the crowd roaring in delight – until the big man’s back gives out and Sloan is able to slip down behind AC! Smith turns around in time to eat a vicious big boot to the face that spins him on the spot, and allows Sloan the opportunity to hoist AC Smith up overhead. The Diggin’ Graves (Gorilla Press Spinebuster) connects and the crowd can only boo as the referee counts the three count!
Sloan Talbot O || Diggin Graves (15:23) || AC Smith X
Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:48:05 GMT -5
The scene opens only on the stern, stoic, menacing face of BROOKFORD. Just as he is about to speak, the hand of an unknown person blocks out BROOKFORD’s face. BROOKFORD sighs.
BROOKFORD: What do you think your doing?
The camera pans out. In the camera shot with him is his Dynamic Duo’s tag team partner TRENTON SNOW. BROOKFORD stares at Trenton.
BROOKFORD: You mind? Trying to get this over with!
Trenton Snow: Well, I want my wife to stop bugging me about a damn yacht. Screw Travis. Got to buy our agent a big fancy boat. Now Kayla wants one. I don’t come from money.
BROOKFORD shrugs his shoulders.
Trenton Snow: I’m not Donald Trump. Yacht’s aren’t cheap.
BROOKFORD rolls his eyes.
BROOKFORD: Not my problem.
Trenton Snow: That’s why I came to you, bud. You’re a problem solver.
Trenton smirks. BROOKFORD shakes his head.
BROOKFORD: Cute. Not buying your wife a boat. Get a job.
Trenton Snow: Fine snaggle pus. Just so you know, I got your back. Not against Sage. Ha. Your gonna kill’em. I’ll back off. Do you, bud. Kimmi Kiester is watching. Give her a reason to--
BROOKFORD gives Trenton a menacing stare. Trenton holds his hands up. He exits the scene. The camera gives BROOKFORD a full face shot.
BROOKFORD: Mothers tell their children the story of David and Goliath. David was a shepherd's boy. Knew how to use a slingshot. Experienced warriors couldn’t topple the giant. David comes along, got a lucky shot, became King. Mothers, and church folk tell this story to give weak people hope. Commentators use that fable to paint a picture to give the audience a reason to put faith in the little man. Sometimes, a David does get lucky. More often than not, David is squashed like the bug he is.
BROOKFORD: Real life is not some predictable story where good people always wins. In this real life scenario Sage, you are the DAVID who is going to get DESTROYED by this GOLIATH.
BROOKFORD: I’m not gonna settle for being GOLIATH. Consider me a GOD. A God of Destruction. I am the entity who holds your fate in the palm of his hands. I choose tonight whether you walk out under your own power or whether you are given a free ride to the emergency room. I will cast JUDGEMENT on the transgressions you committed against me.
BROOKFORD: You cost me the United States Championship.
BROOKFORD: You got involved in my business during the Gold Rush Rumble.
BROOKFORD: And you got involved in my match against Ashley.
BROOKFORD: Choking you out a month ago is not good enough for me. I am the all mighty destroyer who is going to solve his very own problem, that’s you. I pride myself on being a problem solver. I want to get back to doing what I came here to do.
BROOKFORD: Solve problems.
BROOKFORD: Collect a paycheck.
BROOKFORD: That can’t happen until you are dealt with boy. Tonight you accept I am one problem you don’t have an answer for.
BROOKFORD: SAGE... its over. No vengeance for you, son. Just pain. Unforgiving, pain.
Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:48:19 GMT -5
✦ SINGLES MATCH ✦ BROOKFORD vs. Sage Clark
The match starts with Clark and BROOKFORD running straight at each other. BROOKFORD throws out a lariat, but Clark ducks. When BROOKFORD turns around, Clark connects with a front kick before knocking him back with a spin wheel kick! While BROOKFORD is dazed, Clark runs forward and fires off a flurry of knife edge chops. The chops continue until BROOKFORD palms his face and shoves him down to the mat. Clark gets back up, runs right back over towards BROOKFORD and fires off a flurry of uppercuts. But again, BROOKFORD is able to shove him down to the mat. After returning to a vertical base, the plucky underdog Clark rushes back over to attack. This time, BROOKFORD grabs Clark and tosses him into the corner. The Problem Solver rushes in to attack when Clark counters with a boot to the face. The two switch positions in the corner before Clark fires off another round of knife edge chops. He then goes for an irish whip. But BROOKFORD grabs a hold of the top rope with his free hand. So Clark squats down to try and whip BROOKFORD into the opposite corner. But again, The Problem Solver blocks the move. He then lets go of the ropes, grabs Clark and tosses him back into the corner. He then throws out a backhand chop. But Clark ducks and counters with a knife edge chop. BROOKFORD throws out another backhand chop. But again, Clark ducks and counters with a knife edge chop. The crowd cheers as Clark knocks BROOKFORD away from the corner with another knife edge chop… and another… and another! He then turns and runs into the far ropes. When Clark returns, BROOKFORD knocks him down with a cross chop! Clark can be seen clutching at his throat.
The boos continue as BROOKFORD grabs Clark, marches into the corner and slams him face-first into the top turnbuckle. After turning Clark around, BROOKFORD delivers a hard backhand chop to the chest. Another backhand chop causes Clark to guard his chest. BROOKFORD then grabs a hold of Clark’s arms, wraps them around the top rope and fires off multiple backhand chops. The THUD from each chop can be heard throughout the arena! The boos continue as BROOKFORD continues firing away with chops. Clark wails in pain while the Problem Solver continues to chop the hell out of his chest! Once BROOKFORD is done, various marks can be seen across Clark’s beet red chest. An irish whip then sends Clark into the opposite corner. BROOKFORD comes barrelling across the ring before nailing Clark with a back elbow. He then takes Clark’s wrist, leads him out of the corner and knocks him down with a short-arm elbow smash! BROOKFORD reaches down, pulls Clark back up by the wrist and rocks him with another short-arm elbow smash. After Clark is pulled back up by the wrist, BROOKFORD blasts him with a trapping headbutt. After the Problem Solver lets go, he whacks Clark across the face with a slap that sends him stumbling over into the ropes. While Clark tries to shake out the cobwebs, BROOKFORD turns and runs into the far ropes. When BROOKFORD returns, Clark ducks and dumps him over the top rope. Instead of crashing to the floor, BROOKFORD lands safely on the apron. He then reaches over the ropes and locks Clark in a Sleeper. Clark can be seen flailing his arms around while the ref gives BROOKFORD until the count of five to break the hold. BROOKFORD reluctantly breaks the hold when the count reaches ‘four’. After pulling Clark out onto the apron, the crowd gasps when BROOKFORD gets behind him and tries to deliver a release German Suplex off the apron!!! But Clark is able to wrap his arms around the top rope. BROOKFORD goes for another German Suplex!!! But again, Clark blocks. The Problem Solver tries to yank Clark off the ropes and bring him down to the floor with a German Suplex!!! But The All-American hangs on for dear life!!! So BROOKFORD lets go and delivers multiple clubbing strikes across the back of the neck. BROOKFORD tries to go for another quick German Suplex!!! This time, Clark wraps his arms around the ropes, as well as hooking one of his legs around the bottom rope to block the move. So BROOKFORD lets go before delivering Mongolian Chops to Clark’s traps. The Problem Solver then turns Clark around, hooks him and throws him off the apron and to the floor with a T-Bone Suplex! BROOKFORD brings the action back inside and makes the cover. ONE… TWO…. Clark gets his foot on the bottom rope.
As the match continues, BROOKFORD brings Clark into the corner and slams him face-first into the top turnbuckle. After turning Clark around, BROOKFORD sends him slumping down in the corner with a barrage of palm strikes to the face. From there, BROOKFORD delivers multiple face washes to Clark before applying a foot choke. The ref gives BROOKFORD until he count of five to break the choke. BROOKFORD reluctantly breaks the choke when the count reaches ‘four’. After stepping all the way back into the opposite corner, BROOKFORD runs across the ring and hurls himself at Clark with a Cannonball Senton. But Clark rolls out out the apron, causing BROOKFORD to crash into the turnbuckles to cheers from the crowd! While BROOKFORD slowly rolls away from the corner, Clark slowly pulls himself up using the ropes. He then slowly climbs up to the top turnbuckle while BROOKFORD gets up on all fours. After BROOKFORD gets back to a vertical base, Clark leaps off and knocks BROOKFORD down with a missile dropkick to the back of the head! He makes the cover. ONE! TWO! BROOKFORD kicks out.
In the eighth minute, BROOKFORD reverses an irish whip. When Clark returns, he sees BROOKFORD setting up for a back body drop. So he counters with a rolling neckbreaker for a two count. A snapmare, followed by a dropkick to the back of the head scores a two count. Clark then delivers a rib breaker for another two count. The All-American sets up BROOKFORD for a T-Bone Suplex. But BROOKFORD blocks with multiple elbows to the side of the head. He then turns Clark around and goes for a German Suplex. But Clark blocks the move. After three back elbows to the face, Clark performs a standing switch, delivers an atomic drop and follows up with a Roaring Elbow to the back of the head! After BROOKFORD crumbles to the mat, Clark makes the cover. ONE! TWO! T-NO! BROOKFORD gets his shoulder up!
Clark brings BROOKFORD back to his feet… then quickly goes around and applies No More Words (The Sleeper)! The crowd cheers as Clark has the submission locked in. BROOKFORD seethes as Clark cinches the hold. The ref asks the Problem Solver if he wants to give up. BROOKFORD responds with a finger wag. After gabbing Clark’s arm, BROOKFORD lunges down to the mat, sending Clark rolling off his back! After both grapplers return to a vertical base, BROOKFORD rushes over to attack when Clark turns him around with another spin wheel kick! While BROOKFORD is dazed, Clark leaps onto his back and applies No More Words! BROOKFORD reaches out to the ropes. But he’s nowhere near them. He then tries to throw Clark off his back. But it’s to no avail. In a last ditch effort, BROOKFORD runs backwards before jumping into the corner, breaking the hold. After BROOKFORD staggers towards the center of the ring, he turns around and runs back cover towards the corner. But Clark throws him down with a big spinebuster! He rolls across BROOKFORD and hooks the leg. ONE! TWO! TH-NO! BROOKFORD gets his shoulder up!
As the matches wages on, Clark hits BROOKFORD with an uppercut… and another… and another! After an irish whip sends BROOKFORD into the corner, Clark runs, jumps and connects with Gut Check Time (Stinger Splash)! Once BROOKFORD is sent into the opposite corner with another irish whip, Clark runs, jumps and connects with Gut Check Time! After leading BROOKFORD from out of the corner, Clark doubles him over with a front kick. He then sets up BROOKFORD for American Pride (Fisherman Buster). But BROOKFORD gets his leg free, doubles Clark with a cheap shot cross chop to the throat, lifts him up and throws him down with a pumphandle powerslam! BROOKFORD pulls Clark back to his feet and stuns him with a spinning backfist. He immediately clobbers Clark with a discus elbow smash. Clark’s legs go limp before dropping down to a knee. BROOKFORD then turns and runs into the ropes while Clark slowly gets up off his knee. When the Problem Solver returns, he turns Clark inside out with a lariat takedown! After pulling BROOKFORD up from behind by the back of the hair, BROOKFORD delivers a sitout full nelson atomic drop before quickly locking on LIGHTS OUT (half nelson choke with bodyscissors)! BROOKFORD clamps on the hold as Clark begins to panic. He uses his free arm to try and pull BROOKFORD’s arm from around his neck. But it’s to no avail. He reaches out to the ropes. But he’s nowhere near them. The ref asks Clark if he wants to give up. But he refuses. So BROOKFORD squeezes even harder to apply more pressure. Clark keeps his arm out until it eventually goes limp. Once the ref confirms that Clark is unconscious, he calls for the bell.
Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:48:38 GMT -5
Backstage, a door swings open as Ashley Sullivan walks out of her dressing room. Ready and dressed in her ring gear, a hood covers the young woman’s face as she turns to the camera. A smirk can be seen on her lips before she pulls the hood away from her face.
Ashley Sullivan: So we’ve finally come to it. Now while tomorrow is called All-Star Showdown, this is where the real showdown that I care about happens. Right here, tonight, I finally get a chance to show that annoying little asshole Tristan Ambrose just how much of an idiot he really is. Tonight’s the night me and him finally go one on one. No more games. No more little tricks. FGA’s management could very well have named tonight Endgame because that’s exactly what this is for me.
Giving a look back over her shoulder, Sullivan gives a slight nod as if to indicate that her fellow members of the newly arrived Triple A are inside.
Ashley Sullivan: Since the day that I’ve come back to FGA, it’s like he’s been playing this constant game of trying to outdo me. I make my return and he shows up later on talking about “what about me”. I get come out for the rumble, and he has to be the one to try to eliminate me, even if he got thrown out in the process. I get a shot at the 15 championship and that idea just drove him nuts didn’t it. He had to come slinking by and cost me that chance. No matter what, he just couldn’t let it go that I was here and brought in his little Resistance cronies. He thought that would finish me off. But what he didn’t count on was that I have friends too, and I know they’ll back me up no matter what.
Crossing her arms over chest, Sullivan nods at the camera.
Ashley Sullivan: And here we are back on a level playing field. We can finally put this to bed and I can put Tristan Ambrose in my rear view mirror where he belongs. Why is that the place for him? Because all he’s about is trying to top what I do. Instead of making his place here in FGA all about me, why doesn’t he make it about himself and showing just why he belongs on a high spot on the ladder. But nope, he just can’t bring himself to think like that. And it’s precisely because of that mindset that he’ll always playing catch up with the rest of the roster. Me, I have goals that I want to reach for that are way beyond him
Pulling the hood back over her face, Sullivan starts to leave but stops for a moment.
Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:48:54 GMT -5
✦ SINGLES MATCH ✦ Salem Kaiser vs. Alex Chalwell
The match starts with Chalwell taunting his opponent, showing off his impressive physique as Salem just looks on and shakes her head. She beckons Alex forward for a collar and elbow tie-up, from which he inevitably gains the upper hand. With a side headlock applied, Chalwell eventually gets pushed away and against the ropes, only to knock Salem down with a shoulder tackle. He runs against the ropes and hops over the prone witch before Salem leapfrogs him. She leaps up for a dropkick, but Alex holds onto the ropes and watches as Salem crashes to the mat.
She gets back up by her own accord, but Chalwell is on her in a flash pushing her back into a corner. The knife edge chops light up Salem’s chest before he sends Kaiser from pillar to post, followed up by a running elbow smash to the face. Kaiser stumbles out of the corner and gets taken down by a snapmare as Chalwell goes for the early cover, only getting a one count though. Alex takes a moment to tell Salem to “stay down” as he kicks at her repeatedly, rolling her towards the ropes. Kaiser uses the ropes to stand back up on the apron. Chalwell has her by the hair, but he’s caught off guard by a shoulder thrust to the midsection. A sunset flip follows, but Alex kicks out at two as both competitors scramble to their feet. He lashes out with a clothesline, but Salem ducks under and dives behind for a roll up cover, earning herself another two count before Alex rolls out under the bottom rope to gather his bearings.
A look of pure anger on his face as Chalwell storms around the ring, which isn’t helped by the fans taunting him. The Virgin Islander lets his bravado get the better of him, however, as he turns to tell the fans to shut up – only to turn back around to see Salem flying over the ropes with a tope con hilo! A loud cheer goes around the arena as Salem takes out her opponent on the outside, and The Witch stands back up to soak in those applause.
The action quickly returns to the ring though, with Salem rolling him in under the bottom rope before climbing up top herself. As he stands back up, Chalwell eats a missile dropkick that sends him flying across the ring and towards the opposite corner! There, he stands back up with his back against the turnbuckles as Salem rushes in and leaps up to the middle rope before starting a ten punch combo! Alas, she only reaches seven before Alex manages to counter with an inverted atomic drop, buying himself some time. He rushes out of the corner with a clothesline, but Salem ducks under the arm and runs against the ropes, coming back with a handspring back elbow that catches Chalwell flush on the jaw! She goes for the cover, but he kicks out at the count of two.
As the match continues, Salem starts to target her opponent’s legs, dropping some elbows down across the inside of the knee as he’s on the mat before Alex finally manages to kick her away. Both competitors scramble to get back to their feet as Salem lashes out with some shoot kicks to the thigh. Left, right, left, right, before Alex catches her foot – only to get drilled by a leg-feed enzuigiri! Chalwell is reeling as he rolls away and back up to his knees, but Kaiser is already on the move. She rebounds off the ropes behind him and drops Alex with a somersault cutter! And the cover. ONE! TWO! TH-NO!
Kaiser takes a moment to play to the fans, rallying them behind her as her opponent is still down on the mat. She goes to help him back up, but somehow a thumb ends up in her eye! Chalwell pleads his innocence to the official who, for some reason, seems to believe him. The momentum shifts as Chalwell seizes the advantage, slowing the tempo of the match right down as he does so. He keeps Salem moving, peppering her with strikes and clubbing blows before eventually taking her down with an arm wrench short-arm clothesline. He even takes the opportunity to gloat again, telling Kaiser that she’s not on his level as he stomps at her prone body.
The high impact moves start to deal their damage as Chalwell lands a gutwrench gutbuster and a piledriver among others, but Salem stays alive throughout. The match ticked into the tenth minute as Salem found herself on the receiving end of “Thru the Virgin Isles” (Tilt-A-Whirl Mat Slam), but she still kicked out at two! Just like she did after the bridging fisherman suplex a minute later.
The frustration began to set in as Chalwell took it up a notch. The chops and slaps in the corner seemed to do the trick, as did the running high knee. Kaiser found herself on the mat a minute later after a big time tiger suplex, and Chalwell headed up top. The crowd booing him wildly as he posed, proclaiming himself the best thing around before leaping off with a diving headbutt…
Salem rolls out of the way in the nick of time, and Alex Challwell hits the canvas face first! Both competitors are down momentarily as the referee starts a count out, getting up to ‘five’ before Kaiser stirs. She’s using the ropes to get up as Chalwell manages to prop himself up on all four moments later. He moves up to a kneeling position and Kaiser drills him with a buzzsaw kick to the head! But he still manages to stand back up, so Salem summons up all her strength to run in and hit a standing monkeyflip DDT! The crowd are on tenterhooks as Salem stands up once more, waiting in the corner for Alex Chalwell to stand back up, before she charges in with the New Hampshire Handshake (high velocity leaping elbow strike to the jaw)! It connects, and Kaiser drops down on top of her opponent as the referee counts the three!
Salem Kaiser O || New Hampshire Handshake (16:13) || Alex Chalwell X
Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:49:43 GMT -5
HEADLINE ✦ SINGLES MATCH ✦ Ashley Sullivan vs. Tristan Ambrose
The match starts off with Sullivan knocking Ambrose down with a dropkick! After an irish whip sends Ambrose into the ropes, Sullivan connects with a spinning heel kicks that knocks Ambrose down! While Ambrose rolls to the outside, Sullivan turns and runs into the far ropes. When she comes back, she knocks Ambrose down with a baseball slide! Sullivan slips out onto the apron before pulling herself back up. She then begins to wave Ambrose up. Once Ambrose gets back to his feet and turns around, Sullivan runs along the apron before bringing him down with a flying hurricanrana! The crowd is firmly behind Sully as she rolls Ambrose back inside and makes the cover. But Ambrose gets his shoulder up at two.
Sullivan moves Ambrose against the ropes before delivering a pair of knife edge chops. An irish whip is then reversed, sending Sullivan into the ropes. When she returns, she slides through Ambrose’s legs. Once Ambrose turns around, Sullivan sends him flipping down to the canvas with a step-up enzuigiri! After heading into the ropes, Sullivan comes back and delivers the Wind Whisper (Rolling Senton) for a two count! Sullivan brings Ambrose back to his feet and knocks him into the corner with multiple right hands. After an irish whip sends Ambrose into the opposite corner, Sullivan runs across the ring and throws out the Wind Kick (corner big boot). But Ambrose catches her foot! After taunting Sully, Ambrose swings leg down before quickly grabbing her and delivering a reverse STO into the turnbuckle! He makes the cover. But Sullivan kicks out at two.
Ambrose stays on offense as he moves Sullivan into the corner and delivers multiple shoulder thrusts to the midsection. After the last shoulder thrust doubles Sullivan over, Ambrose pulls her away from the corner. He then goes to lift her up for a Turnbuckle Powerbomb. As soon as Sullivan gets on his shoulders, she hits Ambrose with right hands to the head. She then slips down in front of Ambrose, doubles him over with a kick to the gut and hits a DDT! While Ambrose is laid out, Sullivan climbs up onto the middle ropes and waves Ambrose back up. Once Ambrose returns to a vertical base, Sullivan flips off to go for a Blockbuster. But Ambrose rolls underneath it, causing Sullivan to whiff and land on her back. Ambrose pulls Sullivan back to her feet and delivers multiple knees from the clinch before delivering the Ambrose Special (Butterfly Suplex into a Mounted Guillotine Choke)! The crowd boos as Ambrose cinches in the hold. The ref gets down and asks Sullivan if she wants to give up. But Sullivan refuses. So Ambrose lets go before raining down forearms to the face!
In the eighth minute, Ambrose sends Sullivan flipping down to the canvas with a running knee to the gut. He follows up with a gutwrench piledriver for a two count. A tilt-a-whirl backbreaker scores a two count. Ambrose sets up for a German Suplex. But Sullivan blocks and counters with three elbows to the face. Once the hold is broken, Sullivan runs into the ropes. When she returns, Ambrose turns her inside out with a discus clothesline for another two count! After a lifting side slam, Ambrose drags Sullivan into position before stepping out onto the apron, Ambrose climbs up to the top turnbuckle and flips off for a 450 Splash. But Sullivan rolls out of the way. Instead of crashing on the mat, Ambrose lands on his feet before rolling forward. Once Ambrose gets back to his feet and turns around, he sees Sullivan running over to attack. So he counters with a Pop-Up Uppercut! Ambrose then throws out a roundhouse kick. But Sullivan ducks and counters with a side russian legsweep.
Sullivan returns to her feet, rushes over and flattens Ambrose with a Shining Wizard! With Ambrose sprawled out on the mat, Sullivan steps out onto the apron and calls for Sunset (Swanton Bomb). She then climbs up to the top turnbuckle and is about to flip off when Gunnar of The Resistance climbs up onto the apron. While Sullivan and the ref are distracted, Ambrose runs up the turnbuckles, grabs Sullivan and throws her down with a T-Bone Suplex! Ambrose crawls over and makes the cover. ONE! TWO! TH-NO! Sullivan gets her shoulder up!
Gunnar remains on the apron until the other two members of Triple A, Ashley Marie Chase and Antoinette Sands, come racing down the aisle! They each grab an ankle before yanking Gunnar off the apron! The crowd cheers as Chase and Sands club away on Gunnar! But the cheers then turn to boos as the towering Ragnar marches down the ramp to even the odds! Back inside, Ambrose steps out onto the apron and waves up Sullivan. Once Sullivan gets back to her feet and turn around, Ambrose knocks her down with a springboard forearm! He pulls Sullivan back to her feet, lifts her up and delivers the ドームズデー (Pumphandle Neckbreaker)! He makes the cover. ONE! TWO! THR-NO! Sullivan gets her shoulder up. Ambrose heads into the corner and waves up Sullivan again. As the leader of Triple A struggles to get back to her feet, Ambrose charges out of the corner and rocks her with the Lethal Dose (Jumping Knee Strke)! He makes the cover. ONE! TWO! THRE-NO! Sullivan gets her shoulder up! Ambrose repeatedly slaps the canvas out of frustration. The Leader of The Resistance gets in the corner and begins stomping his foot. The stomps pick up in pace as Sullivan is closer and closer to getting up to a knee. Ambrose then runs out of the corner and leaps up for The Cure (Curb Stomp)! But Sullivan slips out of the way and counters with a one-handed bulldog! She makes the cover. But Ambrose kicks out at two. An irish whip is reversed, sending Sullivan into the ropes. When she returns, Ambrose hoists her up for another Pop-up Uppercut. But on the way down, Sullivan counters with Into Dust (Codebreaker), sending Ambrose flying backwards! Once Ambrose gets back to his feet, Sullivan runs over and connects with a front dropkick, which sends Ambrose flying into the turnbuckles. After an irish whip sends Ambrose into the opposite corner, Sullivan runs across the ring and blasts him with the Wind Kick! After Ambrose crumbles from out of the corner, Sullivan steps out onto the apron. She then climbs up to the top turnbuckle. Sullivan’s about to flip off for Sunset when a young man lepas over the guardrail, hops onto the apron and shoves her off, sending her crashing down hard to the mat!!! As the camera focuses in on the young man, some fans notice him as the same man that set up Sullivan for the attack by The Resistance a little over a month ago! The crowd erutps with boos while the ref calls for the bell.
On the outside, Chase and Sands try to fight off Gunnar and Ragnar. But Ragnar is able to help Gunnar dispatch the opposition. Back in the ring, the young man climbs up to the top turnbuckle, flips off and crashes on top of Sullivan with a 450 Splash! He then holds Sullivan in place for Ambrose to drive her face-first into the mat with The Cure! After the duo leave the ring, the crowd erupts with boos as the three men stand behind Ambrose at the top of the ramp. On cue, all four members of The Resistance raise their fists in the air.
Ashley Sullivan O || Disqualification (15:07) || Tristan Ambrose X
Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:50:12 GMT -5
The Crimson Baroness: I remember a time, back when I was training to become a wrestler, back when I used to hear the name Malcolm Drake spoke in hushed tones...
[The familiar drumming of the opening to Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain” booms from silence.]
”Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies"
[The scene transitions to The Crimson Baroness; she’s sitting in an interview chair, dressed in her ring attire. Her legs crossed, hands resting on one knee as she talks.]
The Crimson Baroness: ...whether it was Dommy talking about his days in The Murder; when the three of them ran rampant through FGA, carving a path of destruction through the tag division and all the way to the FGA Championship. Or from Chris and the other trainers at LDFC, telling me about the wars he’s been through.
[There’s a moment of hesitation as TCB switches legs.]
The Crimson Baroness: People...they never spoke of Chris in the same way, did they? Throughout his battles against people like Dom Harter, Savannah Taylor, Luke Jackson, or Chris Q, God rest his soul. Or even when he won a fatal fourway match against Michael Tomkins, Andreas Lasiewicz, and Michael Hopkins. When he became the first two time FGA Pride Champion…
[She shakes her head.]
The Crimson Baroness: They never took the time to appreciate him. What he could do, what he did. As he helped to build FGA into the promotion that it is today. For twenty years now my husband has left pieces of himself in that ring. Putting on matches that these fans should remember for the rest of their lives. But what do they do? They care more for the flavor of the months…
[TCB tuts and rolls her eyes, pausing for a moment as she thinks of what to say next.]
The Crimson Baroness: They let some like Malcolm Drake develop a cult of personality around themselves, feeding off his every word. They let people like Jimmy Page or Johnny Karma ascend to the top. They watch as people like Yun Goeun, Neon, Julian Tijerina...Blake Rogers...get given title opportunities. But I promise you, after Glory Road, you’ll remember what Chris Bond can do for the rest of your life. As he brings down the man, the myth, the legend. You’ll speak of Chris Bond in the same reverence as the rest of your idols, as he finally takes his rightful place as a bonafide legend in this business…
[Darkness. The song picking up again.]
”And if, you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)”
”And if, you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)”
[The scene opens up to Jimmy Page sitting down in front of a black background looking at an interviewer off-screen. He scratches the side of his nose and contemplates for a moment.]
Jimmy Page: Malcolm and Bond are foundations in FGA. LIke they helped build this thing from the ground up. Two vets in this business who have had...two separate stories breaking in and making a name for themselves here. When I think of Drake, he’s been the guy who shaped this...enigmatic aura...so to speak that I wish I had. He’s unpredictable, I guess that’s why he helped me a couple of months back because he wanted to see the surprise on Dom’s face when he returned.
Jimmy Page: You don’t know what the Hell he’s thinking, and most people don’t want to pick at his head. That’s what makes this match so interesting, because he’s only showing you pieces of what he is. Chris has to worry about the entire picture. And not for nothin’, Bond’s pretty good. He’s a bit of a prick, but the guy’s old school. He doesn’t pull back, he doesn’t apologize, he understands the business and that’s what makes him what he is. He had his hand in teaching new wrestlers back when FGA had it’s Lion’s Den developmental territory two years ago. He’s forgotten more about wrestling and the in’s and out’s of it than most guys in the locker room will ever know.
Jimmy Page: Still don’t like’em though, still think he’s going about his mid-life crisis in a way that seems desperate. He wants to go down in a blaze of glory, he’s going to picking a fight with Drake. Drake finishes what he starts. And he’s gonna try and close this chapter on this rivalry between the two. Maybe that might be his downfall for overlooking Bond, who knows really? But at the end of the day, this thing is gonna boil over. All we can do is just watch honestly…
[The camera zooms in on Page’s face, his grizzled mane and stubbled face fading out to reveal the Crimson Baroness walking down a hall, being tormented by Malcolm Drake. Her running from fear to a shot of Chris storming out, looking for Drake, to the a close up of Drake dropping the Baroness on the ramp with a variation of Bond’s finisher at Only the Strong Survive, much to Bond’s horror.]
”Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light”
[We then get a quick shot of Seth Iser as it looks as if he is in a studio setting as he is sitting on a chair dressed in a suit.]
Seth Iser: I’ll keep this simple since I was asked for my opinion here. Personally I hope Chris Bond wins because Malcolm Drake is a lunatic but...professionally you have a very interesting match up here between the two of them. I’ll start with Chris and first thing that stands out when you see him in the ring is his experience. What does that experience mean? He gets the most out of every little move. We all know what leverage is in the sport...Chris’s experience means he knows how to truly maximize it. Like everyone knows how to put on an arm ringer. Chris’ll put his knee to the shoulder to bend your arm back that little bit further and know where to put his hands to get that extra ten pounds of leverage. The other is he will just stand up and punch you in the damn mouth. Win lose or draw you’re going to be sore the next day because you were in the ring with Chris Bond. Just there is a pair of tradeoffs for this. One is that bulky brace on his right knee is essentially a bullseye for any wrestler looking to aim for a victory. The other...I learned this in the fatal four way personally and that’s his temper. You find a way to weaponize his temper against him...he’s going to be far more into the business of maiming you than trying to beat you. And you can see where that can be a problem.
[There’s a pause as you can see a flash of Chris’s highlights showing a particular emphasis on what Iser means about leverage before you cut back to Seth.]
Seth Iser: Now for Malcolm Drake...is the fact that he’s such an unpredictable individual that he could jump off of a cage to try to get a piece of you or come through the crowd...under the ring. Hell...he might mug you in a damn store if he’s determined enough to get after you. That means especially in a hardcore situation where your imagination is your only limit...you can’t really prepare for what he can do. He could dive off the top rope with anything in an effort to hurt you. There’s also tradeoffs for that. First as we saw just recently...he ignored a match with Piper just to get after Chris. In a way they share this weakness even if it takes a different form. That kind of emotion and tunnel vision it can create. And secondly sometimes you can only do so much to try to make up for what you have. Wrestling has a reputation of being a land of the giants at times even with this wave of hardcore and junior heavyweight stuff coming in but when you’re 5’9 and 190...well...it’s a hell’va lot harder in a traditional sense to go in there and trade fists and you can’t do certain moves against most people just because of weight and leverage.
[You can see the various highlights of Drake play off now highlighted by that spectacular elbow drop against Dom Harter at A New Odyssey.]
Seth Iser: Professionally you have an interesting match up with some similarities and differences. Personally? I hope Chris Bond kicks Malcolm Drake’s ass.
”And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)”
[Former FGA champion Sean Sands is seen sitting in the interview room, dressed in a casual suit as he smiles.]
Sean Sands: If you had asked me if I thought that Malcolm Drake and Chris Bond would be going to war in 2018, I wouldn’t have been surprised. If you had told me that Chris Bond is the disliked one though? I’d have never guessed this 4 years ago.
Sean Sands: It’s funny how much time can change, especially when it comes to people. This war that they’ve got going has had many casualties, but it’s tough to care about that when you hate the man across the ring from you.
[Sands leans back in his seat.]
Sean Sands: Despite our differences, I can admit Chris Bond is very talented in the ring. Smart as hell too when it comes to that squared circle. But he relies too much on something else to help him out most times. He gets too complacent and he gets beat. He looks for shortcuts and he gets beat. The biggest problem Bond has is himself.
[The former champion moves around a bit in his seat.]
Sean Sands: Malcolm Drake, on the other hand, is a different animal. Smart and very good at what he does, yes. But he’s a lot more dangerous. Always has and always will be. He’s very good at getting in your head and building a nice camp up there. However, he’s got his weaknesses too. He sometimes lets his bloodlust overrun everything else and that’s possibly when you can take the most advantage against him, especially if you know how to, like Bond.
Sean Sands: These two hate each other and are willing to do terrible things to one another, so I’m not shocked at whatever happens.
”And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)”
[The camera pans from Sean Sands’ smirk to that of what appears to be a YouTube channel, or something similar, courtesy of an old familiar face… Bob Pooler.]
Bob Pooler: Ladies, gentlemen and assorted gender fluid patrons, tonight I sit before you a man waiting for a queue to pop so that I can get into this raid. Alas, we seem one tank short of a full team so instead … I vamp”
[He says with a smile as he adjusts the headphones over his ears.]
Bob Pooler: Now, ordinarily I’d be sitting here talking about whoever the flavor of the month is that’s hell bent on ‘comin’ for ma Strong Style title’, but something else caught my eye. Seems that there’s still a bit of blood pumping through the veins over in Frontier-land and a few of you reached out to let me know that there was an upcoming match that I should try and catch.
He leans forward, the smirk on his face widening into a full smile as a tendril of hair falls from beneath his backwards hat.
Bob Pooler: Malcolm Drake versus Christopher Bond
[He says with exuberance, the hair now dancing as his eyebrows raise and lower excitedly.]
Bob Pooler: Now, I’ve taken a few too many chair shots in my days, but I don’t remember the last time these guys faced each other, if ever there was a time. I mean.
Bob Pooler: For a pair of guys who’ve danced around the same small company for years, how’ve they NOT done this before? I dunno; but what I do know,.
Bob Pooler: Is that this is going to be a match for the ages. See, if there was anybody out there who knew these guys better …
He pauses, his eyes darting skyward as he comes to the sudden realization.
Bob Pooler: Well, I s’pose Harter knows Drake about as well as I do … but nobody knows Bond like me.
Chris Bond and Bob Pooler go back to a time in professional wrestling when it was about the wrestling. There were no vampires, demons, or Super Mario Wrestling Bros. This sport was pure and simply two guys beating the holy hell out of each other until one of ‘em couldn’t do it anymore. More times than not,.
Bob Pooler: Bond was the one getting his arm raised in that ring; on more than one occasion against me as well. Thing is, all you guys asking me who I think is gonna go over in this match? Well, seeing as how I don’t have a horse in this race I’ve got no problem throwing a random prediction your way.
He settles back in his chair, pulling the earphones off his head for a moment to adjust his hair back beneath his hat before replacing them. He takes a deep breath for a quick second before exhaling it out in force through his nose.
Bob Pooler: So Malcolm Drake – you guys already know that Drake and I ran together during my time in FGA. We were the predominant faction in that company and owned the tag titles. The Murder rolled over everyone that stood in our way. In the end.
He says with a shrug.
Bob Pooler: Only thing that stopped us was our own apathy. Drake got hurt, or peaced out, I don’t even remember; Harter? He, uh...
He pauses long enough to scratch his chin.
Bob Pooler: I haven’t got a clue what happened there. But I do know that whatever the reason, the three of us just faded out of FGA. I got my release and haven’t really looked back. See...
Bob Pooler: I guess when push came to shove I was never the ‘company man’ like Bond’s always been. That...
He says pointedly.
Bob Pooler: Is one of his strengths. Dude has always been able to dig deep and do whatever he could to come out with the win – of course that’s always been one of his weaknesses too. I’ve known Chris for damn near a decade and in all that time he’s never … never backed down from a fight. No matter how much bigger, badder, and meaner the other guy was – Bondo kept going. Probably what led to that knee of his getting blown out before it should have. Guys like him, the have a definite shelf life, but guys like Malcolm – with egos that big? They burn out even quicker. Hell, Mal isn’t the first guy to shine too bright before fading away. Anybody in the stream remember Chris Q?”
He stops to read the chat as it lights up with a flurry of activity at the mention of the former FGA superstar.
Bob Pooler: Yeah, guy had the world at his fingertips and then one day, poof!
Bob Pooler: So a winner, eh?.
He says with a half hazard shrug.
Bob Pooler: I’m going to go with Bondo because even though I know Malcolm will do anything to pull out a win, Chris just has lived with a horseshoe up his butt for the last several years. Guy is going to find an opening and then plant Drake for the one … two … three! Either way...
He says with a sly wink to the webcam.
Bob Pooler: I wish ‘em both the best of luck, and may the better man win!
[We cut from Pooler’s face, mid-game face, and to Vertigo 55, where clips of Bond being informed he was suspended for the night, to he and the Baroness taking a seat at ringside, to Drake’s scheduled match for the night, and all hell breaking loose as Drake flies over the top rope and crashing down upon the two of them. A quick cut to a slow-motion shot of Drake flying through the air and into Bond and the Baroness, popcorn and fans scattering. Then a quick cut back to their brawl, Bond being speared through the guard rail, and loads of security separating the two.]
”And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)”
[We cut to a black screen. Silence, as the song stops… and the deep, raspy voice of the Battle-Hardened Veteran, Chris Bond, sounds across the airwaves.]
Chris Bond: I am a man.
He starts, coldly and calmly. Sitting on a steel chair in the middle of the ring, Chris Bond is at the center of a dark, empty arena.
Chris Bond: I am a man, and this is my life. I eat. I sleep. I breathe. I bleed. I cry. I hurt and I pain for this. This ring, is where I feel most at home. This arena is my church. The screams of happiness and agony that echo throughout this hallowed chamber… those are the hymns of my faith.
He stops, tilting his head for a moment and looking up just barely, his left eyebrow arched for a moment.
Chris Bond: I don’t believe in talking snakes. I don’t believe in the creation of man. Good or evil. Isaac, Abraham, Paul, Judas, or Jesus himself. I believe in the tangible things, the things I can touch, I can feel… I breathe, see, or taste. I believe in… these.
Bond looks down at his hands, raising both up, and staring at the wrinkles of time, scars, and scabs that this this business, and his life, have taken a toll upon.
Chris Bond: These hands, have made me famous. These hands have won me titles. These hands… have cost me opportunities in life, in glory… and in love.
He drops his hands and places them atop his legs.
Chris Bond: I have been kicked and prodded and beaten up and down this country, across the pond, and over the world. I have had my dances with glory and laid in bed with failure. My career isn’t gilded with happiness… and greatness. I am no idol. I am no God. I am… but a man.
Bond stops, tearing up as he discusses his career. He looks down, and takes his right thumb and traces at the slight peak of the scar atop his knee.
Chris Bond: I am well aware of my mortality. I have met my weaknesses head on. The booze, the pills, my body and my mind… and I am well aware that out of all my shortcomings in life, my biggest adversary has and always will be… me.
He drops his head, crying out in a moment of shame before laughing a little bit in a fit of discomfort.
Chris Bond: And even though this battlefield of life has bits and pieces of me strewn all across the globe… I can’t quit. I’m not good at anything else. I gave up the bottle. I gave up the pills. I gave up the women. But I can’t give up THIS!
He shouts, standing up and kicking away the chair. His words echo throughout the empty arena, the chair making a loud racket as it smacks into the ropes before falling and sliding out and landing on the mat with a thud.
Chris Bond: I am jealous of Malcolm Drake. I envy the fact that those people cheer his name. I envy the fact that people fear his reckless behavior. I envy the fact that people root for his very presence. I envy that he could just walk away from it all… and me, I can’t. I’m stuck, forever chained to this business, this business that has built me up, broken me down, bathed in my blood and my sweat, and my tears… and Malcolm Drake was just going to walk away from it all, like none of it mattered.
A small tear rolls down his cheek. Chris quickly wipes it away and turns from the camera, looking out into the empty arena.
Chris Bond: History has a funny way of bringing two people together, Malcolm. We’ve both been dancing around this hall for ages. We’ve eaten at the same table. Slept in the same hotels. We’ve even rode in the same cars… but we’ve never really met each other one on one, have we Malcolm?
Bond looks out and waits for a reply.
Chris Bond: This war that we’re waging. It isn’t about glory. It isn’t about titles, or winning, or going down in history. No, the one thing I’ve wanted more than anything for years… has always been to be held in the same regard as people like you. People like Johnny Cannon, and Chris Q, and every other idol those people have screamed and cheered for. I was never seen as good enough to be compared to the likes of you! YOU’RE A GOD TO THEM!
He stops, and lowers his head in disbelief. He places his hands on his hips, standing in the single spotlight that shines over the ring.
Chris Bond: You are a f*cking deity of pain! And me? I’ve only ever been a footnote in the history books. I could never walk the walk, or talk the talk in their eyes. Hell, I don’t even think most of them would consider me worthy of lacing up your boots!
He stops, and lets out a quick fit of rage. Screaming out in rage and disbelief, his cries of rage and pain echo throughout his place of worship. He turns, slowly falling to the mat, stopping at his knees.
Chris Bond: I know that their words mean nothing. That their thoughts, their prayers, their concerns and their cheers mean nothing in the long run. But to be seen by others, by YOU YOURSELF as not being worthy, Malcolm… that is something you just can’t get over. Because I’ve known, even from the start that I am worthy. That you and me, we’re fucking equal. Cut from the same cloth, and this match… this dog collar match, it’s going to prove to you that you are not a god.
Chris Bond: It’s going to show them that you are not my superior. But that we are equal.
Chris Bond: You were never better than me, Malcolm. And as much as you think that you really could have walked away from it all. Men like you… Men like me… we’re forever destined to be chained to this business.”
He stops, breathing slowly, inhaling for a moment and then exhaling. His tattooed arms outstretched, like he’s sacrificing himself at the altar of his church.
Chris Bond: I am the one to show world that he, who they call a God… is nothing more than a man. One who drinks to numb the pain. One who bites and who kicks to feel anything. I am the one to show the one who thinks of himself as a God… that he bleeds just like any man. The pain is real, Malcolm. You’re not immortal. And at Glory Road, I’m going to show you your mortality by proving that you are not better than me.
[We cut back to the scene from earlier tonight, Vertigo 56, when Bond and Drake were separated by a sea of security and Asherman was reprimanding them. Reading them the riot act for behaving like starving dogs, snapping at each other over the smallest bit of food. The threat of cancelling their match, of being fired… and then a fast-forward version of everything else that has gone down. To the referee being thrown at Bond, to Drake and MacDonald exchanging words, to all havoc breaking loose. And it all culminates with…]
A darkened stairwell, lit only by the soft red glow of an EXIT sign hanging over the only way out. And under its halo, blocking the large steel door is Malcolm Drake. His bedraggled hair hanging limply over his face, mixing with the scraggly curls of his unkempt beard; piercing blue eyes staring up from between the dangling strands. Slowly, like the movement of a glacier, a smirk carves a path through the side of his mouth, raising a bearded cheek and bringing the creases of age up along his eyes.
Malcolm Drake: I WAS trying to leave.
Drake begins, his voice rising and falling with each empathetic inflexion.
Malcolm Drake: I WAS trying to do the right thing… heh… for once. I WAS trying to contain the fire, trying to make sure no one else got BURNED… but you couldn’t let me do that… could you?
Malcolm Drake: I’ve said it for months now: I want to take everything from you. I want EVERYTHING that Chris Bond has… so I can turn it to ASH. But why? Hmmm? Why? What drives me? What’s going on inside that crazy little, scruffy head of mine? You all always seem to want to know… Is Malcolm Drake just that crazy, just that DERANGED that he’d go through all this trouble, all this physical and mental anguish and torture, just because Chris Bond jumped him?
Drake’s smirk turns to a scowl.
Malcolm Drake: No.
Drake’s tone if flat, but direct. It always seems like someone else’s voice, lacking the lithe sing-song quality of his usual, extended responses.
Malcolm Drake: I’m not a man who has very much. That, as they say, is the nature… of the beast. BUT… I did have one thing. One… tiny… little… thing. And it was mine. It took me forever to get my grubby mitts even close to it… and for a brief moment I held it in my hands…
There is a long pause as Drake’s eyes falls to his empty, outstretched hands. Cradled, as if holding something very fragile and precious in his palms.
Malcolm Drake: ...and
Drake’s voice wavers slightly. He continues barely above a whisper.
Malcolm Drake: Heh, and… like a fool… I allowed myself to believe that - just once - I might be able to find some happiness in this world for me. To find some peace. After a life of pain, and anger, and violence, and HATE… and war… I thought I held that peace in my hands.
Drake’s shoulders droop, as if a large weight has just been placed across his back. It takes a moment, but slowly his head raises. And through the mess of hair and dirt, those blue eyes seem to smitter. Wet.
Malcolm Drake: I had… my way out. My EXIT…
Malcolm Drake: AND CHRIS F*CKING BOND STOLE IT FROM ME!
Drake mule-kicks the big steel door behind himself, creating a loud bang that echoes through the stairwell and causes the red “EXIT” light to flicker for a brief moment.
Malcolm Drake: He stole the only thing I had in this world… and he did it because he was JEALOUS of me. THAT is the kind of WORM that Chris Bond is. The man with all his titles, all his accolades, his beautiful wife, and the begrudging respect of his peers… he decided he didn’t have ENOUGH. His GREED and his JEALOUSY were too damn much. He had to steal the one thing I had for myself. Because… heh… because he wants my… aura…
Drake throws his arms in the air in exasperation, as if the reasoning is almost too stupid for him to fathom. To say it’s uncharacteristic, would be an understatement equivalent to a dog speaking being uncharacteristic.
Malcolm Drake: You want to know how I got this… F*CKING aura, Chris?! Because *I* am nothing like YOU. I’m not over six feet tall, hell I’m not even over 200 pounds. I don’t babyoil myself up, and I don’t count my titles and trophies. But most importantly, I don’t OBSESS about what other people think of me.
Malcolm Drake: I am who and what I am, because I can’t be anything else. Unlike YOU I am not measured in wins and losses. I’m not measured in titles or trophies. I’m not measured in neat little statistics and kudos and pats on the back from your f*cking chums.
Malcolm Drake: I am measured in that cold feeling in your stomach when you hear my name.
Malcolm Drake: I am measured in the hairs that stand up on the back of your neck. I am measured in the pimples that dot your skin when you lock eyes with me.
Malcolm Drake: I am measured in the number of bones I’ve broken, and the number of bones I still have to break. I am measured in the gallons of blood I’ve bled and the gallons upon gallons I’ve spilled.
Malcolm Drake: I...
Drake straightens his shoulders, pushing the hair out of his face.
Malcolm Drake: ...Am Malcolm. F*cking. Drake. And at the end of the day, you - Chris Bond - you’re still just a man. And all men die.
Malcolm Drake: You took away my exit… my way out… but what you failed to realize is that NOW… you’re trapped in here with me…
Malcolm Drake: Memento mori.
[As the two men come face to face, separated by about a foot and a few dozen security guards, the camera zooms in and captures their final words for one another.
Chris Bond: I want you to lay dying, feeling every insecurity that I have ever felt, and when you feel that last semblance of hope, of comfort, that’s when I want to stomp your life from your body and make you feel like you truly have nothing. Because, to me... you are nothing.
Malcolm Drake: I want to leave a pool of your blood on the canvas, and when you stare into it, when you look at your reflection, it’s Malcolm Drake you see staring back at you. Then, and only then, will you truly feel like you have nothing left. And it was all because of me, Chris. I am the one who took everything from you. I am the creator of your demise.
”And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you saying You would never break the chain (Never break the chain) Chain keep us together (running in the shadow) Chain keep us together (running in the shadow) Chain keep us together (running in the shadow) Chain keep us together (running in the shadow) Chain keep us together (running in the shadow) Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)”
Last Edit: Jul 27, 2018 16:52:04 GMT -5 by FGA Office
Post by FGA Office on Jul 27, 2018 16:52:45 GMT -5
MAIN EVENT ✦ DOG COLLAR MATCH ✦ Malcolm Drake vs. Chris Bond
Kris Cruise: And now it’s time for our main event of the evening!
Stephy Auger: Finally, we get to see Chris Bond make Malcolm Drake suffer for all his sins! I’ve been waiting for this for weeks, Cruise. And as a dog collar match?
Kris Cruise: This rivalry has been brewing for months, ever since 2018: A New Odyssey back in March of this year, where Malcolm Drake made his triumphant return to an FGA ring as a member of Team Page. That night they dealt a crucial blow to The New Murder – and we haven’t seen Dom Harter since that night, Stephy.
Stephy Auger: You don’t need to remind me, Cruise. But after that, Malcolm Drake seemed to want to retire. And that didn’t sit well with one man in particular. Since then we’ve witnessed attacks, brawls, scuffles. They’ve torn arenas apart trying to get at the other. And now they’re going one on one!
J.A. Aldridge: Ladies and gentlemen, our main event tonight is a DOG COLLAR MATCH and is scheduled for one fall!
"If you take a life, do you know what you'll give... Odds are, you won't like what it is... When the storm arrives, would you be seen with me... By the merciless eyes I've deceived... I've seen angels fall from blinding heights... But you yourself are nothing so divine... Just next in line..."
The house lights dim in the KeyArena, and the red lights soon flicker throughout the filled-to-the-brim center. The crowd jumps to its feet, blowing the roof off as Chris Bond makes his way out from behind the curtains. As he emerges from behind the curtain, there is a large burst of resentment from the crowd. With a spotlight lighting his way, Bond, accompanied by his villainess The Crimson Baroness, makes his way down the aisle and towards the ring, although he doesn’t slap any hands along the way this time. His focus remains entirely on the ring.
Soon enough he jogs up the stairs, and walks along the ring apron before wiping his feet. More boos reign down upon him as he stops and sneers at the crowd. Bond points to his shirt and smirks, before brushing off the jeers from the crowd. He presses his leg between the bottom and middle rope to make room for TCB to enter the ring. Upon her entrance into the ring, the crowd erupts into another chorus of booing! Bond shouts a few words of profanity before he too steps into the squared circle.
J.A. Aldridge: Introducing first, from San Antonio, Texas. Weighing in at 241 pounds, and being accompanied by The Crimson Baroness….He is THE BATTLE HARDENED VETERAN! CHRRRIIIIISSS BONNNNDDDD!!!
The self-proclaimed legend of the wrestling world walks to the center of the ring and stands there for a moment, as flashes go off throughout the waves of fans. The Baroness joins him, using her hands to emphasize his presence. Bond circles the ring, arms outstretched and shouting about how great he is, as the fans boo loudly once again. Bond clearly enjoys this, as his trademark smirk re-emerges on his face. Heading to his corner, Bond removes his t-shirt and hands it to the Baroness before doing a few stretches. He and TCB exchange words as they await Malcolm Drake.
Kris Cruise: Chris Bond looking set for action tonight. He knows what’s on the line, Stephy. He knows what he wants to do.
Stephy Auger: He’s a man on a mission tonight. For months he’s been trying to get at Malcolm Drake. Months spent wanting to make that man bleed, and to break his bones. But something’s always gotten in the way – whether it’s security, other wrestlers, Leonard T. Asherman!
Kris Cruise: None of which was helped by Malcolm’s actions at Only The Strong Survive. A night where he not only cost Chris Bond a shot at the Pride title, but also caused his elimination from the Gold Rush Rumble itself.
Stephy Auger: Factor in the attack on The Crimson Baroness a few weeks later, and Malcolm Drake has practically signed his own death warrant by agreeing to this match.
” I'm the man in the box Buried in my shit Won't you come and save me Save me”
The lights go out in the arena as Alice In Chain's “Man In The Box” starts playing over the speaker system. The strobe lights begin flickering on the entrance curtain in pace with the drum and bass line until they reach a crescendo at the chorus and Malcolm Drake bursts through the curtain. The fans here in Seatlle are on their feet, cheering loudly and raucously for the former leader of The Murder as he stands at the top of the aisle to soak in the reaction.
J.A. Aldridge: And his opponent. Hailing from Boston, Massachusetts. Weighing in at 192 pounds. He is MALCOOOOOOLLLLLLMMMMMM DRAAAAAAAKKKKEEEEE!!!
But only for a moment as Drake locks eyes with Chris Bond in the ring. With a hurried pace, he makes his way down the aisle, reaching out to slap some fans’ hands along the way before he jumps up onto the ring apron. The lights come back up, and both men are glaring at each other as Drake steps into the ring. The referee does his best to keep both men apart and in their separate corners as the music dies down.
Stephy Auger: Dead man walking!
Kris Cruise: Malcolm Drake just wanted a quiet exit from FGA after Steel Cage Mayhem. Instead he got dragged into this fight, Stephy. But if Chris Bond wants a fight, then that’s what he’s going to get tonight!
Stephy Auger: I’ve got no doubt that’s what he wants. That’s all The New Murder ever want. And tonight Chris Bond is going to prove to everyone here, and to Malcolm Drake, that he is better than they could ever imagine! And he is going to lay everything on the line to make sure that Malcolm Drake doesn’t walk out of this arena tonight.
The bell sounds to start the match as both men stand in their respective corners. The crowd here in the KeyArena firmly behind Malcolm Drake as he stands stoically, waiting for the official to wrap the collar around his neck. On the other side of the ring, Chris Bond is standing back, resting with his foot up against the turnbuckles as the referee walks towards him with the other end of the chain in hand. Without moving an inch, without removing his glare from the man across the ring to him, the collar is secured around Bond’s neck.
Kris Cruise: Here we go, Stephy. The main event of Glory Road is underway, and I personally can’t wait to see this one.
Stephy Auger: After Asherman was so close to cancelling this match – denying these fans the chance to watch Chris Bond beat seven shades out of that mutt, Malcolm Drake!
Kris Cruise: Brandon Macdonald stepped in a few weeks ago on Vertigo to make this stipulation. And now, after all these weeks – these months of back and forth brawling between these two. Tonight, we finally settle this one.
As soon as the referee steps back, however, both charge forward and immediately start trading blows in the center of the ring! Bond firing off right hands, Drake shooting them right back as neither man backs down. The crowd on their feet, cheering for Malcolm Drake even as he appears to be getting the worse of this encounter. He’s backed into the corner as Bond continues; he’s landing rights and lefts all over the upper torso of his opponent as Drake puts his arms up to block. But even the brief reprieve leaves him worse for wear as The Battle Hardened Veteran wraps the chain around his fist to continue pounding the flesh of Malcolm Drake.
The body shots cause Drake to grunt in pain, but the shots to the forehead leave him dazed. The referee tries to intervene, pushing Bond back a few steps towards the center of the ring. His nostrils flared as he snorts in anger, watching on as Drake slumps to a seated position in the corner. The crimson beginning to flow from a cut on his forehead…
…and Drake just smiles up at Bond as if to say ‘is that all you’ve got’?
Stephy Auger: Is he…smiling?
Kris Cruise: The blood has already begun to flow in this one, but I don’t think Malcolm Drake minds one bit.
Bond goes to charge in, but he’s met by a diving Drake! A double leg takedown bringing The New Murder member to the mat as it’s now Malcolm’s turn to wail away on his opponent. Rights and left hammering down on Bond, until he manages to roll over. He lands a few punches before Drake rolls him over again and both men tumble out under the bottom rope, with Bond taking the brunt of the fall. Drake, however, is quick to his feet as he gets up to stomp at the prone Bond.
Drake grabs his opponent by the back of the head and bounces it off the apron. Repeatedly. Until Bond is left kneeling there in pain, trying to shake the cobwebs from his head as Malcolm rolls into the ring…and right back out on the other side. He grabs the slack chain that binds them and yanks on it hard, slamming Bond face first into the steel ring post as the crowd cheer again!
Kris Cruise: A bit of ingenuity from Malcolm Drake there. I don’t know if there’s anybody in FGA right now who’d I hate to be in a match like this with, Stephy.
Stephy Auger: I can. And his name is Chris Bond!
The smirk widens on Malcolm’s face as he wipes the blood from his eyes. He rolls back through to where his opponent is leant back against the ring apron, arms spread to keep himself upright. That shot to the ring post seems to have done the job as Bond appears to have been knocked senseless, leaving him vulnerable to the knife edge chops that follow! The crowd “woo!” along with each chop until Drake switches tact, and starts stomping at the exposed torso of his opponent.
The Crimson Baroness walks around the ring, trying to get close to the action. But Drake lunges at her when he sees coming, forcing her back again.
Kris Cruise: Bond has that ace in the hole in the form of his wife in his corner, Stephy. But I’m not too sure how close to this one The Crimson Baroness will want to get.
Stephy Auger: She still needs to get revenger for the heinous actions Malcolm Drake took at Only The Strong Survive, Cruise. I see her playing a role in this one, and helping Chris Bond finally put Malcolm Drake down for the count.
Bond slumps to the floor as Drake hops up onto the apron, climbing in through the middle ropes. The crowd still chanting his name as he casts a quick glance towards his opponent, where Bond is just getting back to his feet. Malcolm sets off against the ropes for momentum, using all of the available chain, coming back with a suicide dive–
Kris Cruise: Oh my God! What a shot!
He says as Bond slams a steel chair across the face of Malcolm Drake! The former leader of The Murder slumping, half in and half out of the ring, across the middle rope as Bond drops the chair to the floor. He can hear TCB nearby clapping in excitement as he takes moment to compose himself. The Battle Hardened Veteran pointing to Malcolm as he’s laid across the ropes, asking them if this is their hero. His taunts are met with a chorus of boos and jeers as Bond climbs up onto the apron to deliver a running knee strike to the side of Drake’s head!
Drake slumps back into the ring as Bond follows him in, and drops down to hook the leg.
ONE! . . KICKOUT!
Kris Cruise: Malcolm Drakes kicks out at one!
Stephy Auger: That man just doesn’t know what’s good for himself, Cruise.
Or Drake knew exactly what he was doing as he looks up at the snarling face of Chris Bond. The gall of his opponent kicking at one is enough to cause Bond to stomp at his foe, working over each and every limb as Drake seems to be laughing in response. So Bond drags him back to his feet and shoves Drake towards the corner as he stomps a hole in his midsection. The chain gets wrapped around Malcolm’s head for a bulldog out of the corner, and Bond rolls him over to cover again.
ONE! . . KICKOUT!
But Drake gets the shoulder up at one again; the exasperation showing on the face of his opponent as Bond runs both hands up his face and over the top of his skull – before he grabs Malcolm around the throat with both hands to choke him out. The crowd booing all the while, until the referee intervenes to stop him. Bond stands back up and tells the official to ‘back off’, in no uncertain terms. TCB can be seen on the outside slamming her hands down on the mat as she shouts out to her husband. But Bond is helpless to what’s to come; the chain is wrapped around Drake’s forearm as he lunges up with a discus forearm smash to the jaw!
Bond drops to one knee as Malcolm stands there, unwrapping the chain as he tells the defacto New Murder leader to stand up and bring it. Visibly shaking in rage, his fists clenching and unclenching, Bond forces himself back to his feet as he stands face to face with Drake again. The two men glaring at each other, snarling, blood dripping down the face of Malcolm Drake. And the crowd are eating it up as the two men start trading blows again. Bond gets the upper hand once more, driving a knee up into the gut of his opponent after nearly ten seconds of forearm smashes, before he drives Drake face first into the top turnbuckle.
Stephy Auger: Chris Bond using that size and strength advantage to the maximum here tonight, Cruise. Say what you want about Malcolm Drake, but he does not want to trade blows with Bond.
Kris Cruise: He’s come up short both times, albeit with a shortcut that time. But if Drake’s going to stand a chance in this one he may not want to straight up try and overpower his opponent. That knee has always bothered Chris Bond, and I think Malcolm knows that. Maybe we’ll see him focus it later on.
Drake’s head bounces off the turnbuckles several times before Bond lowers his head to thrust his shoulder up into the midsection. He finally brings Drake out of the corner with a jumping backbreaker, but doesn’t go for the pin attempt as Bond calls out to his wife at ringside. The cameras don’t quite pick it up, but The Baroness immediately pulls up the ring apron and looks around…
Kris Cruise: Here comes the hardware.
Stephy Auger: The Crimson Baroness with a table in hand here. What’s she going to do with it?
The first table gets slid into the ring, right into the waiting arms of her husband as Bond positions it against one of the turnbuckles. Another table is brought out soon after the first, which TCB sets up at ringside as instructed. The crowd booing loudly again as The New Murder members work together to raise the stakes, while Drake is down and holding his back.
Bond heads back to his prone foe, stomping at the back and arms of Malcolm Drake. But that’s just not enough. Bond leans down to wrap his arms around the waist of his opponent, deadlifting Drake off the mat for a gutwrench powerbomb! But no pin attempt this time either, as Bond appears to have learned his lesson. Instead he brings Drake back up to his feet, and doubles him over with a toe kick to the midsection. Drake stays like that in the center of the ring as Bond runs against the ropes, coming back with a running knee lift that flings Malcolm backwards to the mat. And again, Bond take the opportunity to taunt the fans, asking them if this is the man they’ve chosen to cheer? Bond kicks at his prone foe, stomping at the chest as he tells Drake to get up and fight.
Kris Cruise: Don’t poke the bear…
Another stomp to the chest, but Drake just rolls away. He can’t get too far though, since they’re joined by a chain as Bond stands over, a leg either side. He slaps Malcolm across the face and tells him to get up. But Drake looks dazed. So he gets slapped again. Chris Bond even going so far as to rub his hand in the blood pouring from Drake’s forehead before he slaps the man! Leaving a bloody handprint on the cheek of the former crow…
…and Drake’s eyes open. A smirk on his face as he lunges up with a throat punch! The crowd cheering again as Bond staggers backwards gasping for air. Drake is sprite, defying belief as he kips back up to his feet and motions for Bond to ‘bring it’!
Stephy Auger: What the – how is he even back on his feet after all this?
Kris Cruise: Because Malcolm Drake doesn’t know the meaning of the word quit, Stephy!
Stephy Auger: Maybe if he stayed in school then!
Drake ducks under the clothesline attempt and comes back at a frenetic pace, catching his opponent with a flying forearm smash! Bond goes down, but gets back up in time to eat another flying forearm! Again, Bond gets right back up as he finds himself eye to eye with a madman; Drake unleashing a barrage of punches that back the Battle Hardened Veteran into the corner. There, Malcolm stomps at his opponent, even going so far as to wrap the chain around his boot as he starts to deliver repeated facewashes to Chris Bond! And the crowd are loving it!
Malcolm takes a moment to play to the crowd, staring out at them wide eyed and bloodied, before he rushes in a final running facewash that sends his opponent rolling out under the bottom rope to safety…
Stephy Auger: I think he’s lost it, Cruise. Malcolm Drake has lost whatever semblance of sanity he had left.
…or it would be safety if there wasn’t a collar around his throat. The chain in Malcolm’s hand pulling at Bond on the outside, forcing him back to his feet and back in under the bottom rope. Drake yanks the chain, forcing Bond to stumble across the ring towards him, and right into a front facelock for the DDT onto the slack chain! And now, finally, Malcolm Drake attempts a pin.
ONE! . . KICKOUT!
Kris Cruise: Did he? Did Chris Bond just kick out at one?
Stephy Auger: That’s The Battle Hardened Veteran you’re talking about, Cruise. He’s not giving Malcolm Drake the satisfaction of even getting a two count tonight.
Drake sits up, part in disbelief, but the smirk on his face lets the fans know that he’s enjoying the task at hand here. He has to wipe the blood from his eyes again, but Drake brings his opponent back to his feet. Dazed, Bond finds himself on the receiving end of several forearm shots that have him backed towards an empty corner, before Drake takes a run up for a shotgun dropkick that sends Bond hurtling back against the turnbuckles! He lands with a thud, but remains upright as Drake takes another run up, this time coming back with a running double knee lift – shades of Dom Harter there – that causes Bond to stagger out of the corner, right into an Ace Crusher!
The crowd chanting his name as Malcolm Drake stands back up. He’s feeding off the energy as, on the outside, TCB is yelling for her husband to get back up. A loud cheer goes up as Drake points towards the table in the corner, and he drags Bond back to an upright position again. The lights are on but nobody’s home as Bond stands there, precariously close to the table resting against the turnbuckle. A series of left hand jabs to the face rock him where he stands as Drake runs to the opposite corner. He picks up a head of steam as he runs in with a spear–NO! Bond reversed with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex, sending Malcolm Drake hurtling through the table!
Kris Cruise: Oh my God!
Stephy Auger: What a counter, Cruise! Chris Bond, like the seasoned veteran he is, knew exactly what to do! And Malcolm Drake paid the price there.
Kris Cruise: He might be broken, Stephy. Malcolm Drake might be broken in half right now. The speed at which he went through that table – I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like it!
Stephy Auger: He set himself up for that one. But more importantly, Chris Bond has just found a way back into the match.
On the outside, The Crimson Baroness can be seen pounding the mat with her fists, yelling at her husband to get back to his feet. But Bond is motionless on the mat. Drake is slumped in the corner surrounded by shards of broken table. And the referee has no choice but to start a count out.
But Chris Bond is finally starting to stir. He throws a shoulder up, and begins rolling towards the ropes. The Baroness is on hand to help him, telling him to make the bastard pay as a smirk forms on the face of The Battle Hardened Veteran. He manages to stand back up and pulls on the chain, dragging Malcolm Drake from the wreckage in the corner.
Kris Cruise: I don’t like the looks of this. What does Bond have in mind here?
Stephy Auger: I think…I think…he’s going to make the bastard pay, Cruise.
Drake is face down in the center of the ring as Bond stands to one side. The former crow pushing himself up to all fours as Chris Bond grabs hold of the chain that binds them again. The crowd immediately start booing as they sense the evil intent. With fifteen feett of chain clasped between his hands, Bond raises it up high and brings the chain slamming down across the back of his opponent! And again! And a third time! The dull thud of steel hitting flesh sounding repeatedly until Bond finally relents. Blood beginning to seep from the cuts on Drake’s back as he rolls around in pain.
But Bond isn’t done yet. He kicks at Drake, forcing to roll until finally he’s on the apron. There, Bond brings his opponent back to his feet and positions him across the middle rope for Rejection (Rope Hung DDT). Head first, Drake is driven into the mat. And this time Bond feels comfortable enough to cover with a lateral press.
ONE! . . T-KICKOUT!
Stephy Auger: Not again!
Her anger and disbelief is matched only by that of Chris Bond as he sits up in shock. His eyes bulging, shoulders heaving with every breath as he looks down at the smirking face of his opponent.
Kris Cruise: I’m not sure how he’s doing it, Stephy, but Malcolm Drake is getting even further under the skin of his opponent each time he kicks out at one.
Stephy Auger: He’s not human, Cruise. He can’t be! No man can endure what Chris Bond has put him through here and still kick out at one!
Bond does his best to undo the chain as he rolls to the outside, bringing Drake with him. Straight away, Bond goes over to the timekeeper and forces them to stand up as he grabs the chair out from under him. Then, with the chair in hand, he slams it down across the back of Malcolm Drake! The former crow staggers away, grimacing in pain as Bond brings the chair crashing down across his back once again. Drake stumbles, dropping to one knee as he holds onto the ring post for support. But Bond won’t let him rest. He stands Drake up, back against the post, as he swings the chair–NO! Drake ducks the chair shot, and steel meets steel as Bond hits the ring post with that shot!
Kris Cruise: That has to hurt!
Instinctively, Bond drops the chair as Malcolm can be heard laughing. The sound of which only serves to infuriate The New Murder member as he turns around – only to get punted between the legs! The crowd cheer as Bond drops to his knees, clutching the family jewels as he howls in pain. But not Drake. He staggers closer to his opponent, taking his head in both hands as he leans down to bite at the forehead of Chris Bond!
Stephy Auger: Is he–is he biting him? That’s sick! That’s disgusting!
Bond howls in pains swatting his hands to try and get Malcolm off him. In the background, TCB can be seen grimacing at the sight of her husband being bitten. But Drake finally lets go as his opponent clutches at his forehead, feeling for blood. Which gives Malcolm just enough time to grab up the steel chair and blast Bond across the top of the head!
Kris Cruise: I felt that one from here.
But Bond doesn’t go down. So a second chair follows, and down goes the Battle Hardened Veteran. The blood starting to flow from an open wound on his forehead as Drake holds the chair aloft, earning a pop from the crowd.
Kris Cruise: And it looks like we have blood from Chris Bond now. Both men have been busted open here, but did we ever expect anything less?
Stephy Auger: I’m surprised it took this long, to be honest. But the sight of his blood isn’t going to sit well with Chris Bond.
Drake drags his opponent around the corner on the outside, closer to where that table was set up earlier as he rolls Chris up onto the wooden top. Then, for good measure, Drake wraps the chain around his fist again to deliver a couple of punches to the face of his opponent. Just to keep him in place.
Malcolm climbs up onto the apron, holding his arm up for all the fans to see as he begins to wrap the steel chain around his arm. But the crowd’s cheers turn to boos as they spot The Crimson Baroness slide into the ring behind Drake. She drops down to one knee and throws her arm up between his legs for one of her patented low blows–NO! Malcolm closes his legs in time and traps TCB’s arm. A look of panic on her face as he look over one shoulder towards her, which only gets worse as Malcolm reaches through the ropes to grab her by the throat.
Stephy Auger: She’s not even in this match! Put her down!
Kris Cruise: The Crimson Baroness stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, Stephy. And now she’s going to pay the price.
TCB is brought onto the apron as Malcolm doubles her over with a boot to the gut. The crowd egging him on as he manages to lift her up for a powerbomb before he dives off the apron! A sitdown powerbomb off the apron, with the weight of both competitors driving Chris Bond through the table on the outside! It shatters on impact as the crowd gasp in disbelief! Bond motionless underneath the pile of bodies, while TCB is out cold on top of him. And Malcolm Drake is sitting there with a bloodied smile on his face as he rolls away from the wreckage, clutching at his lower back as he tries to bring himself back to a vertical base.
Kris Cruise: Bodies everywhere! Malcolm Drake throwing caution to the wind there, and now we have both Chris Bond and The Crimson Baroness down on the outside!
Stephy Auger: That was vile, Cruise. Using a man’s wife like that.
Kris Cruise: She’s a wrestler as well as a valet. She got involved in the match. I think she knew the risks too.
Stephy Auger: That’s what you always say! But Malcolm Drake is, was, and always will be a sick, demented man, Cruise. He’s just proving that tonight with this display.
Eventually, Drake does manage to stand back up, although his back appears to be giving him some problems. Undeterred, however, he grabs Bond up from the wreckage and rolls him back into the ring before following him in afterwards. The New Murder member crawling, blood dripping from his cut onto the mat as he does so, towards the center of the ring as Malcolm stands over him. Drake wraps the chain around the throat of his opponent as Bond clutches at it, trying to prevent it from choking him. Drake positions himself in front of his opponent, staring straight into his eyes as the chain is tightened…
…before Bond throws an arm up to deliver a low blow! Drake drops to his knees in agony, and Bond meets him with several hard rights to the face. Stunned, Drake can do nothing to stop his opponent from wrapping the chain around his throat as Bond pulls back. Both men standing back up as they’re choking each other with that chain.
They scream to each other as they keep their grip tight on the chain. Their faces reddening, and not just because of the blood, as both men tug at the chain. Neither man budging an inch as Drake pulls on the chain, then Bond pulls on the chain. Neither man backing down as their throats become constricted, their energy wavering and both men pass out in the center of the ring…
Kris Cruise: I think they’ve just choked the life out of each other, Stephy.
Stephy Auger: I didn’t think we’d actually see a murder here, but maybe we need to check on them here. After all they’ve put into this match…
The referee looks down at the passed out competitors and knows he has no choice but to start the count out.
Kris Cruise: Neither man is moving here.
Stephy Auger: They’re out, Cruise.
The referee calls for the bell as the crowd begins to quieten down, their cries for Drake to get back up before the count of ten dying down as J.A. Aldridge makes the official announcement.
J.A. Aldridge: Ladies and gentlemen, both competitors have failed to answer the referee’s ten count…as a result this match has been ruled a NO CONTEST!
Kris Cruise: A draw? Both men gave everything they had tonight to try and one up the other, but it looks like nothing could keep the other man down.
Stephy Auger: And here comes the medical staff to check up on Chris Bond and Malcolm Drake. After all the chain shots, chair shots, broken tables, neither man was able to answer the count out – and I have the feeling this one isn’t over yet.
Kris Cruise: Absolutely not. These men wanted to kill each other to prove a point. And they may have come close, but close just won’t cut it when it comes to this rivalry, Stephy.
The medical staff swarm the ring, checking on both men. The collars are undone and stretchers are brought out, with both Malcolm and Chris being loaded on. On the outside, TCB is just recovering from the powerbomb as she sees her husband unconscious on the stretcher. Panicked, she follows the stretcher back up the aisle as Drake can be seen waving his arms, telling the staff he doesn’t want to be stretchered out. But he has no choice in the matter this time.
Kris Cruise: There we have it, ladies and gentlemen. Glory Road has come to an end. For Geoff Penzer and Stephy Auger, this is Kris Cruise signing off. Be sure to come back tomorrow night for All Star Showdown, LIVE from Safeco Field! From us here at ringside, goodnight!