JC: Alright Duke, you know what time it is?
ID: Time for you to bloody get a haircut?
JC: Only if you got me a gift card to SuperCuts for Christmas, Duke. Enough of the jocularity though, because this is it. This is the ultimate battle for the most prestigious prize in all of TEAM. As you can see, they built an extra ring and lowered the cage. It’s time for WarGames. A1E and The A-List, and frankly Duke, I could only see one of these teams making it to the final tonight.
ID: Normally, I’d be loathe to agree with you on choice of restaurant let alone ordeals of this business, but unfortunately, you are right. I didn’t think the A-List had the guns to get here, but let’s give bloody credit where it’s due here. Daniel Ferguson carried this team on his back and hauled them to this point with very little help at all.
JC: But he’s apparently got the rest of his team back tonight, and it’s going to help him, but in the same vein, this A1E team has been hot. You can argue that while Beast didn’t have to carry his team like Ferguson did, he was just as impressive, if not more so, and he’s had help.
ID: Bah, overrated claptrap, that’s what A1E is, and let me tell you, they’ll be in for a rude awakening if they thing the A-List is going to roll over easily.
JC: Well, I can’t speak for them, but you know that while Beast can be very glib sometimes, he’ll bring his A game for anyone, whether they be Allan Thomas or Nova. Big Dog never takes a day off, and no matter what you think about the antics of CHRONIC COLLIZION...
ID: ...formerly Crimson Calling.
JC: Thank you Duke. Did they pay you to say that?
ID: Bah, I’m a journalist, and I’m into providing the facts.
JC: *sigh* Anyway, no matter how you feel about their demeanor, you can’t deny their talent. This one ought to be a knock-down, drag-out affair. Who are you telling your uncle to take this year, Duke?
ID: Well, firstly, I’m glad you’ve finally come around to believing me, but I’ve advised my uncle to bet his mortgage payment on The A-List, and furthermore, I told him to put an extra fifty quid on Danny Ferguson winning Most Valuable Wrestler.
JC: You leave no stone unturned Duke. If I were your uncle, I don’t know whether I’d thank you or kick you in your jagged, yellow teeth.
ID: Blimey, I have the best teeth in all Britain. I’ve been voted as such for the last three years.
JC: That’s not saying much. Anyway, the stage is set, and I think we’re ready to begin. Let’s go to Marvin Darling for the introductions.
[Cut to Darling on the outside of the cage.]
MD: Welcome to tonight’s MAIN EVENT!
[Huge pop!]
MD: This is a WarGames match for thuh right to take home thuh Dupree Cup! One person from each team will start out in thuh cage, and every two minutes, one mo’ person will enter. There can be no falls until EVERYONE has entered thuh cage! After that, eliminations can only happen via pinfall or submission. There is
no escape from the cage unless you’ve been eliminated! Introducin’ first, from Thuh Aye-List…
[Cue up “Desperado” by Me First and the Gimme Gimmes.]
MD: ...he is the team captain, hailin’ from Hollywood, Caleeeforniiiia, weighin’ in at two-hundred thirty pounds... “Irish”... Danny... FERRRRRRGUSSSSSSSSONNNN!!
[Mixed reaction from the crowd as the glitz and glamour of Ferguson’s entrance blinds the arena in flashbulbs and green and gold strobe lighting. Bodyguards accompany the team captain to the ring, but Ferguson isn’t chewing the scenery like he’d normally do.]
JC: Man, you can tell Ferg is up for this match. No ham for the cam... era.
ID: Guffaw, guffaw Jesse. You laugh because you don’t understand that a man of such a distinguished background as his could be as great a wrestler as he is an actor!
JC: Yeah, about that, I saw an advance screening of
More Than Hardcore, and his performance was self-serving, syrupy and melodramatic.
ID: Hater.
JD: Not a hater, Duke, because he’s a phenomenal wrestler. He carried this team on his back, and they wouldn’t have even sniffed the first round if he didn’t do what he did.
[Ferguson enters the cage. Music fades.]
MD: And his opponent...
[Cue up “10001110101” by Clutch.]
MD: And to start off thuh affair faw Team Aye-One-Ee, weighin’ in at two-hundred-thirty-three pounds, hailin’ from Indianapolis, Indiana, he’s one-half of thuh Chronic Collizion...
ID: Formerly Crimson Calling.
JC: Not now, Duke!
MD: He is thuh Escape Artist... Erik... BLAAACCCCCKKKKKK!!
[Enter Erik Black, soaking up the mixed crowd reaction like it was Big Dog winning the World Championship at the Garden.]
JC: And Black is the complete opposite of Ferguson here, just acting like his feces has no odor.
ID: In all fairness, Jesse, he’s a member of the greatest tag team of all-time.
JC: Even greater than Liquid Snake and Londonboy?
ID: Not fair! You’re taking advantage of my sense of country! LONG LIVE ENGLAND!
JC: You make it too easy.
[Black strolls into the cage and is accosted almost immediately by Ferguson, who has lost his robe a long time ago.]
[DING DING DING!]
JC: AND WE’RE OFF! Ferguson starts out like a house on fire, right, right, right, right...
[Ferg pulls his right all the way back, turns around, spits on it a la the Rock, and...]
JC: HAYMAKER sends Black between the cage and the ropes, and THAT’S how you start off a WarGames match!
[Fans pop HUGE at the hot start to the match]
ID: Bloody right! Ferguson is working on another plane of existence at the moment.
JC: You can say that again, Duke. Black is staggering around like my Uncle Herbert on New Year’s Eve, and Ferguson just keeps laying into him! Right! Right! Black to the canvas, and Ferguson has that wild look in his eyes...
ID: I want you to bloody tell me if what he’s about to do is syrupy and melo-bloody-dramatic!
JC: Spinning toe hold, and that, my friends, is no acting! That’s crisp! Tribute to his hero, and Erik Black is flailing his arms like a fish! Too bad he can’t tap until EVERYONE’S in the ring!
[Ferguson lets go of the hold and starts stomping Black.]
ID: Too bad for Ferguson actually. He can’t do anything but soften Black up, and depending on who comes out next, he may not get the chance more than the minute or so left on the clock.
JC: So true Duke, so true. There’s no set order of who comes out next, although I can tell you it has been staggered so that no one can have any more than a one-man advantage before everyone gets in the ring. Ferguson now taking Black to his feet, whip and tilt-a-whirl slam!
ID: This has been a total whitewash thus far.
JC: You can say that again, although with Ferguson in there, you could call it a red-wash. Maybe a ginger-wash.
[Ferguson stomps some more.]
ID: Begorrah, Jesse! I choose to ignore the blatantly Irish traits of Ferguson so as not to look at him as a tainted heathen! Don’t you dare try to sully his good name in my eyes.
JC: Point taken, Duke...
[Ferguson turns around as he hears the crowd counting down...]
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
JC: Alright, here’s our next competitor... and it’s...
[The buzzer sounds, and Ivan Dalekchev comes strutting through the curtain, stopping several times to point at women and effeminate looking men in the crowd {he’s drunk, people} and scream “I VJORK YOU IN ASS!” at them]
JC: Ivan Dalekchev! Holy crap, Ferg is in trouble! Not only is it another A1E team member, but it’s Black’s tag partner!
[Ferguson notices this and drops down into a three-point stance.]
ID: Oh my.
JC: Ferguson is ready though. He’s going to try and take down perhaps the best pure tag team in wrestling today by himself, even though the Big Russian is taking his sweet time getting down here.
ID: Crikey Jesse, he’s a big sluggish man and possibly inebriated. Cut him some slack.
JC: Dalekchev finally enters the ring, and it’s déjà vu all over again! A flurry of rights from Ferguson, and he is a house on fire!
[Crowd pops as Dalekchev staggers back into the ropes.]
ID: Look out behind you, Danny!
[Black from behind with the reverse DDT.]
JC: JEEEBUS! Erik Black just came out of nowhere to deliver a sucker punch! Oh man, but that’s how things go in this environment.
ID: I was just going to bloody say, Jesse.
[Black holds Ferguson up for a recovering Dalekchev.]
JC: I know, I know. Just let me be me, mkay?
[Dalekchev raises his big Russian right hand in a flat palm and grunts.]
ID: I know there’s a sodding Philadelphia sports reference in there, but I refuse to humor you.
JC: Just like the Collizion is refusing to humor Ferguson at all... Dalekchev winding up that big meat hock on the end of his wrist...
[CHOP!]
DALEKCHEV AND CROWD: VJORK!
[CHOP!]
DALEKCHEV AND CROWD: VJORK!
[CHOP!]
DALEKCHEV: VJORK!
ID: Bloody hell, that was the most inane chant I’ve ever heard.
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
JC: Yeah, well, they like the CC but now something else has caught their interest...
[The buzzer sounds and Dametreyus Fuquieawytas bursts out the curtain and down the aisle like the Ultimate Warrior on crystal meth.]
JC: The cavalry has arrived! Dame... Damitri... ah, forget it, Ferguson’s bodyguard is sprinting to the rescue!
ID: What’s he in such a bloody hurry for?
JC: He’s...
[The CC~! notice this, and Black pulls Ferguson away. Dalekchev turns around and catches Fuquieawytas with a MASSIVE lariat that sends him crashing into the cage. Fuquieawytas ends up stuck vertically upside down between the ropes and the cage.]
JC: ...just trying to get destroyed as quickly as he can. I think someone should check a pulse on him.
ID: Ah, just a waste of good medical staff. Ferguson will be better off in the long run, just you watch.
[Dalekchev turns his attentions back to Ferguson as he and Black whip him into the ropes.]
JC: Yeah, better off getting double teamed. Ferguson running RIGHT into that double clothesline, and I think he almost got decapitated.
ID: Bah, even if he did, his head would gross more money on opening weekend than this entire sodding Dupree Cup Tournament.
[Black holds Ferguson in the seated-up position on the canvas while Dalekchev sends boots to the face.]
JC: Duke, that’s not a good way to go about keeping your job with TEAM.
ID: Bah, the pay’s sh*te anyway.
JC: Alrighty then folks, color commentator on the market tomorrow! Anyway, Ferguson getting some good dental work for free here, courtesy of Ivan Dalekchev’s boot. Dare I say he’s getting VJORKED in the mouth?
ID: Bah, that’s an image I don’t want EVER!
JC: Too bad! Dalekchev picking Ferg up to his feet, and I can only sense danger for the Red Haired Raider here. Black whips him off the ropes, and it looks like we’re going to see some kind of flippy move...
[Black ducks, and Ferguson stop short.]
JC: OR NOT! Ferg with the kick to Black’s dome... AND IT’S GOOOOOOD!
ID: Bloody hell!
JC: Ferguson wasting no time going after Dalekchev now! Left jab! Left jab! Now Ferguson’s got the Big Russian by the head!
ID: He’s not going to do what I think he’s going to do, is he?
JC: Oh he is Duke, because he just grabbed Erik Black by the hair! It’s a Coconut Crush...
[At the last second, Black and Dalekchev are able to block the move.]
JC: Or not!
[CC~! delivers the double headbutt to Ferguson.]
ID: The Chronic Collizion~! are the ones doing the crushing!
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
[The buzzer sounds. Meanwhile in the ring, CC~! follows up their double headbutt with a double haymaker to Ferg’s grill, sending him to the canvas.]
JC: Could this be reinforcements for Ferguson?
[Out of the back steps all 290 pounds of the former Champ, Big Dog.]
ID: Nope, just the bloody end of him! My uncle! My uncle!
[Dog stalks to the ring. Fuquieawytas is still twitching like a dying fish between the cage and ropes.]
JC: I think your uncle is the least in the order of danger priority here!
[CC~! still stomping away on Ferguson.]
ID: You don’t know the bookies he has to bloody deal with!
[Dog enters the ring.]
JC: It’s a three on one... wait, what’s Black doing?
[Black steps away from Ferguson and starts pointing at him.]
BLACK: Hey, Brawlin’ Big Dog! Get to work, I’m on break!
ID: Bahaha! He’s stepping back and letting the new guy do all the work! Bloody brilliant.
[Dog shoots him a look.]
JC: New guy? Dog is perhaps one of A1E’s most storied and decorated superstars!
ID: But he’s the new guy in this match.
JC: I guess if you want to get technical about it... give me a break. Dog goes to work now...
ID: Like he should.
JC:
sighs Like I said, he goes to work stomping away with Dalekchev. And really, if Fu, Fuqua, Fuqukucucko... ARGH, that guy doesn’t stop convulsing over there, Danny Ferguson’s night could be over once the last man steps through that cage.
[Dalekchev drags Ferguson to his feet as Dog starts pounding away with his soup bones.]
ID: Well, I bloody hope not, but if A-List wins and Ferguson doesn’t get named Most Valuable, my uncle at least still makes 80 pounds.
JC: How heartwarming. Dog done tenderizing the ribs and he whips Ferguson into the ropes. Wait for it, and BIG double clothesline by Dog and Dalekchev, and I’m pretty sure Danny Boy is going to end this match hanging on by a single nerve in his spinal cord. Dog picking Ferguson back to his feet, and this is turning into legalized homicide, and Black is STILL sitting back barking orders. Unreal.
ID: He’s bloody earned it! He was the first man in, let him take a break.
JC: There are no breaks in wrestling, Duke. There are no timeouts, no breathers. It’s one thing to lay low and conserve energy, but Black is doing his teammates no favors by being the bigshot here.
[Dog glowers at Black before lining up a shot between Ferguson’s eyes.]
JC: I mean seriously, he should show a little good faith here.
[Dog lands one right in the kisser on Ferguson.]
JC: But speaking of faith, I’m pretty sure Ferguson’s run out of his that he’ll be conscious by the time the next A-Lister gets here, which will be in a scant thirty seconds.
[Dalekchev starts to stomp Dog as he takes a break, still glowering at Black.]
ID: Thirty seconds could be a bloody eternity for him. He may be braindead! Stop the match and get him some help!
JC: I thought your uncle would make out alright if Ferg didn’t make it.
ID: I, well... he’s getting a bit greedy.
JC: Suuure... anyway, again, Dalekchev is bringing Ferguson to his feet, but the crowd is starting to count down...
CROWD: FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE...
[The buzzer sounds and it’s Chandler Tsonda rushing down to the ring.]
JC: Chandler Tsonda coming to the rescue of his original A-List teammate! Finally, Ferg gets some help!
ID: What about Fuqueiwytas?
JC: Like I said, Ferg finally gets some help! Tsonda catches Dalekchev with a quick left, Dog with a quick right, Black moves in, and Tsonda drills him with a dropkick! Chandler Tsonda has come in and evened this match right up even though he’s only guy functional for the A-List here!
ID: And now he doesn’t want anything with Dog or Dalekchev. Bloody like a Vietnamese, hitting and running.
JC: I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last comment, although the Asian-American groups might not, but this is sound strategy by Tsonda. I don’t think I’d want to engage on a three-on-one right now. Laying back and playing keep away is the way to go. Tsonda is hopping between the rings, and he swings around Dalekchev and lands a rabbit punch! Dog lunges at him, but Tsonda is just too quick.
ID: It’s bloody guerilla warfare!
JC: You can say that again, Duke. Peppering in his shots when he can get them, here with another shot on a beleaguered Erik Black who saw his respite UNCEREMONIOUSLY disrupted by the Jewel in the Crown winner! Think about it Duke, last week, he added the Jewel, and now he could add the Dupree Cup to his mantle.
ID: It’s madness!
JC: Indeed Duke, and Tsonda has no intentions of engaging anyone here. Another rabbit punch on Dalekchev, and the Model Citizen is floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee! Quick strikes and evasion, the only way to go as the bodyguard and Ferguson are both still recovering from their hits.
ID: Really, Fuqueiwytas should have been on his feet an eternity ago.
JC: Well Duke, look at who you’re talking about here. Black and Dalekchev both have had enough and they’re chasing after Tsonda. Dog cuts him off and they’re surrounding him.
ID: Chandler Tsonda, we hardly knew ye.
JC: He’s in a bad way, but he could be saved by the clock. It’s winding down, will it be Beast or will it be the Face Eater...
CROWD: THREE... TWO... ONE...
[The Illustrious Face-Eater pops out of the back and blazes a trail out into the ringside area.]
JC: It’s Facey! Facey! The A-List has gotten a HYOOGE break here! Facey rifles into the ring and right away confronts the three. It’s a three-on-two, but A1E is sandwiched here. I don’t think they know what to do...
ID: They should do bloody something before something daft happens to them.
JC: You may be right... no, you are right! Ferguson’s up and he just waylaid Ivan Dalekchev! Facey goes after Dog, Tsonda after Black, and this has turned into a full-fledged brouhaha!
ID: Donnybrook!
JC: Brouhaha!
ID: Donnybrook!
JC: Brou... ah, forget it. Black and Tsonda trading punches in the left ring, while Dalekchev is fending off Ferguson and Dog and Facey tussling in the right one. It’s pandemonium in there, and I can barely keep track of the action.
ID: Bloody fine play-by-play man you are, Jesse.
JC: Yeah, yeah Duke. Laugh it up now, but that’s nothing but six men brawling and one other guy twitching like a dead fish. Dalekchev sends Ferguson in the ropes, but fans on the clothesline. Ferg follows up with a chop block right to the Russian’s knees! Dog throwing those soup bones right into Facey’s ribcage. Tsonda and Black trading chops like Hornet and Melton in a good ol’ fashioned Greensboro hide tan-off.
ID: And Fuquieawytas twitching like he was bloody Marco Materazzi after getting noggin-knocked by Zinedine Zidane.
JC: And just when I thought I was the only one allowed to make bad sports references.
ID: That’s REAL football there Jesse.
JC: Sure it is, Duke. Tsonda and Black still with the chest-reddening action, and now it looks like Ferguson has Dalekchev in the spinning toe hold.
ID: He’s twisted both members of the Chronic Collizion in that bloody hold tonight.
JC: In non-consecutive occasions?
ID: Why yes, but...
JC: Then they should call him Grover Cleveland.
ID: What?
JC: Never mind, Duke. Dog with Facey in the corner there, making him wish he had never left that terrorist camp.
ID: You don’t bloody believe that to be real... do you?
JC: Hey, I go by what the cameras tell me. But after the beating Dog is putting on him right now, I’m surprised he’s not spitting up blood.
ID: I still don’t get why you’d believe...
JC: It’s a moot point by now. Anyway, the clock is running down and that only means one thing.
ID: We can get some bloody falls in this match?
[Dalekchev breaks the hold, but Ferguson keeps on him. Tsonda and Black still going blow for blow. Dog still working over Facey.]
JC: Yeah, and that also means Beast is going to come into the match. You gotta believe that he’s going to be the tipping point for A1E in this match. He’s fresh and rested, and he’ll give A1E an effective four on three advantage.
ID: Speaking of, d’ya think someone ought check on ol’ Dametreyus?
JC: Perhaps, but I don’t think I’d want to get into that cage unless I was a wrestler, speaking of which...
CROWD: THREE... TWO... ONE!
[BZZZZZZ!]
JC: And here comes Beast! Beast stalking to the ring, effectively tipping the scales in his team’s favor! I would not want to be ANYONE on the A-List right now.
[Beast stalks to the ring, but the battlers inside the cage ignore it for now.]
ID: Bloody hell, the A-List can take care of themselves, even at a disadvantage.
JC: Well, we’re about to see because Beast is entering the cage. He’s acting like the master of all he surveys over here.
ID: Well, as much as I’m loathe to admit, he’s earned that right.
JC: Looking around, and he spots a mark... and it’s the bodyguard?
ID: Bloody hell! He’s going for the easy kill!
JC: Beast yanks Fuq... I’m not even going to try to say his name.
[Beast grabs Fuquieawytas by his legs from between the cage and the ropes and then stands him up.]
ID: Damnit, Jesse, you’re a play-by-play announcer!
JC: I know, but this will probably be the last time I have to say this guy’s name... BECAUSE HE JUST GOT GORED OUT OF HIS PANTS!
ID: Good God!
JC: Beast going in for the easy pin, but Ferguson and Tsonda aren’t going to let him! It’s a two-on-one, while Dog continues to pound on Facey.
ID: I guess the original Listers don’t care about the bloody Collizion, but that may cost them.
JC: I’m sure Black is broken up about the respite he’s getting there. Beast fighting off both of them valiantly, although with the size difference between him and the other two individually, I’m not sure... hey, wait, the CC has got Fuqu... whatever!
ID: Begorrah...
JC: HIGH-VELOCITY CHOKESLAM! The Chronic Collizion...
ID: Formerly Crimson Calling.
JC: Ugh... they put the bodyguard on his ass, and now the cover... one, two, three and it’s academic. We have our first elimination.
[DING DING DING!]
MD: Ladies and gentlemen... Dametreyus Fuquieawytas has been ELIMINATED!
JC: We’ve gone from an effective four-on-three to a literal four-on-three, and now the Collizion seem out for easy pickings.
ID: Well, can you blame them? They’re looking to get this match wrapped up in a tight little bow.
JC: I guess not, but they’ve got Tsonda from behind and DOUBLE back body drop! I still don’t like the attacking from behind, but there are barely any rules in this kind of environment.
ID: Prude.
JC: Oh bugger off. Tsonda getting the business from the Chronic Collizion here, while Beast works over a clearly exhausted Ferguson. Dog still just destroying Facey. This is a total A1E whitewash.
ID: I’d have to say, my uncle is not looking too good right now.
JC: If he’s anything like you, Duke, he NEVER looks good.
ID: Oh sod off.
JC: Heh... wait a second, Black heading for the top rope, Dalekchev with Tsonda on his shoulders...
ID: Bloody hell...
JC: CHRONIC CRASHER! CHRONIC CRASHER! Chandler Tsonda just got broken in half! Black with the cover... one... two...
[DING DING DING!]
MD: Ladies and gentlemen, Chandler Tsonda has been eliminated!
JC: Now we’re down to two on one! Tsonda and the big black guy are gone, and it’s the entire team A1E intact going against Danny Ferguson and the Illustrious Face-Eater! The odds aren’t looking so good for the A-List or your uncle right now, Dukey.
ID: My word, Jesse, just rub it in, won’t you?
JC: Hey, I call ‘em as I see ‘em, Duke. And right now, I see the Chronic Collizion trying to win this match by themselves! They just yanked Facey away from Big Dog, and I’m not sure that the two-time former Champion is all that happy about it. Dalekchev putting Facey on his shoulders and another Chr... NO! NO! Facey just rolled up Dalekchev! One... two... THREE!
[Black can’t make the save from the top rope, while Big Dog does nothing to make any kind of save. Beast and Ferguson are still going at it, with Beast having the upper hand most of the time, Ferg getting some shots in when he can.]
[DING DING DING!]
MD: Ladies and gentlemen, Ivan Dalekchev has been eliminated!
JC: And just like that, we have three people gone from this match, and the A-List is in better shape.
ID: Forget that, Big Dog wouldn’t make the save! The blackguard!
JC: Consider it payback for the CC’s arrogance, and besides, shouldn’t you be rooting for A1E to self-destruct?
ID: Bloody hell, Jesse, you’re right!
JC: And now Facey trying to take advantage of the confusion with a quick roll-up on Big Dog... one... but Dog kicks right out. Black goes in for Facey but gets an elbow to the gut for his troubles. Chop to Big Dog right as he gets to his feet, and if you will, Facey is a house on fire!
ID: Burn these sodding A1E wankers to cinders!
[Facey is doing his best Superman impression, alternating chops between Erik Black and Big Dog. Meanwhile, Beast is stomping a mudhole in Danny Ferguson.]
JC: Kids, this is why you shouldn’t gamble. Facey still at it, chop to Black, chop to Dog, chop to Black, chop to Dog, and now, he’s going for the coconut crunch...
ID: Oh no!
JC: Dog blocks it and breaks free! Clubbing right to Facey’s face! Black scurries away like a wounded animal and Dog is back to making Facey’s internal organs look like milkshake! Black heads over to the corner and... has a seat?
[Dog and Beast are now simultaneously taking care of their A-Listers]
ID: He’s relaxing, Jesse. He’s earned it after pinning two A-Listers.
JC: And he could be doing a lot more in eliminating another one, either Ferguson, who seems gassed or Facey who may be spitting up blood before the night’s out. You really can’t deny that there’s a disconnect between Black and the other two A1E guys.
[Beast whips Ferguson into the ropes in one ring and NAILS him with a spinebuster. Meanwhile, Dog is peppering Facey’s gut with more soup bones.]
ID: Well, hopefully, that disconnect makes me money, but I guess since I’m an analyst, I should say that it’s not looking like that so far.
JC: That’s why we pay you the not-so-big bucks.
ID: You know it.
JC: Beast cover on Ferguson, one... two... no, kick out. Ferguson has some life left in him. Dog in the other ring and he’s just pummeling Facey there. This match is turning into a mismatch, and in fact, it’s been all A1E ever since the Collizion waylaid the ever loving crap out of Dame... well, you know who I mean.
[Beast mounts Ferguson and starts pummeling him. Dog whips Facey into the corner and follows up with a Hornet Splash.]
ID: You should make a bloody attempt to learn his name, Jesse. Stop being so daft.
JC: What? He’s out of the match now. I don’t need to know his name anymore. Facey stumbling punch drunk out of the corner, and Dog puts him to the canvas with a clothesline! Cover... one... two... Facey kicks out.
[Dog starts stomping on the prone Face-Eater.]
JC: Beast in the other ring pummeling Ferguson. Whip off the ropes and LARI... no! Ferguson ducks and plants Beast with a shoulder tackle! Beast up quickly but Ferguson there to greet him with a stiff DDT! The A-List has life! Ferguson drags Beast over to the cage, and...
ID: Bloody Norah! My uncle has a chance!
JC: YOU’RE RIGHT HE DOES! And so does Ferguson after cracking Beast’s head HARD against that cage! Ferg is free and Beast is out. He charges across to the other ring...
ID: Not so fast!
[Black pounces on Ferguson before he can rush to Facey’s aid.]
JC: Erik Black, so nice of you to rejoin this match! What opportunism, and the numbers game catches up with the A-List once again!
ID: See, I bloody told you taking a respite was a spot-on idea.
JC: Yeah, yeah. Black plants Ferg with a Russian leg sweep, but look over there, Dog’s got Facey in for the kill! Set up for the Dog Pound!
ID: Bloody hell!
[Meanwhile, Beast and Black are double-teaming on Ferguson.]
JC: Dog... NO! Facey slipped off Dog’s shoulder and the former World Champion ran face first into turnbuckle! Dog stumbles back... DROPKICK to the back of the head of Big Dog, and Facey’s FINALLY in control!
ID: It’s about bloody time.
JC: Facey off the ropes and splash on Dog! Cover... one... no! Dog kicks out! Ferguson is still getting waylaid in the other ring, but Facey is on cruise control right now! Dog’s up, but Facey off the ropes and a flying forearm right in Dog’s grill!
[Black holding up Ferguson for free shots by Beast in the other ring.]
ID: Grill? What are you, Jay-sodding-Z?
JC: Hey... shut up. Facey has Dog up again, and going behind him... he can’t be going for the Eaterplex, can he?
ID: Stranger things have happened!
JC: You can say that, Duke. Facey pulls back, but he can’t get Dog over! Dog breaks out of the hold and goes for a wide swinging clothesline, but Facey ducks!
ID: Be still, my beating heart!
JC: Kick to the gut and standing TORNADO DDT! Dog is down on the canvas, but is he out?
ID: We’re about to find out...
JC: Or not? Facey’s not making a cover here! He’s scurrying over to the cage and... climbing it?
[In the other ring, Beast and Black whip Ferguson into the ropes. Ferg ducks the double clothesline attempt and counters on the rebound with a flying double clothesline attempt of his own. Unfortunately for him, Beast and Black both duck, sending Ferg to the canvas with a thud.]
ID: Oh bugger, doesn’t he know you can’t get out over the top of the cage?
JC: I’d think so, and I’m starting to be a bit intrigued here. Talk about high risk, but there’s a whole other element when you have a cage match, especially one with a roof.
[Double suplex on Ferguson by Beast and Black in the other ring.]
ID: What in bloody blazes? He’s climbing onto the ceiling?
JC: Jesus Christ, he is! The Illustrious Face-Eater is trying to make like Spider-man, crawling inverted on the roof!
ID: Bloody hell! I knew it was a bad idea buying caging from that garage sale in Stamford!
JC: Bad idea? Not for Facey! The only way he’s even able to get that kind of footing is with the old-school blue steel cages! Dog is getting up and he has NO idea where Facey is!
ID: Yes he does! He’s looking up! He’s looking up!
JC: He is, and Facey... OHMYGODINHEAVENABOVEHEACTUALLYDIDIT!
[The Face-Eater drops from the ceiling and turns around mid-air to land a splash on Big Dog.]
CROWD: HOLY SH*T! HOLY SH*T! HOLY SH*T!
JC: FACEY WITH THE COVER... ONE! TWO! THREE!
[DING DING DING!]
MD: Ladies and gentlemen, Big Dog has been eliminated!
JC: In all my years, I haven’t seen anything as reckless, and I’ve seen a lot!
ID: My word!
JC: Facey is stirring on the canvas, but he’s not up yet, and who can blame him? Beast and Black are both looking over now, and I get the feeling that they’re like sharks smelling blood. And with Ferg sucking wind now, A1E is in perfect position to win the Dupree Cup, the biggest prize in the game.
ID: My uncle!
JC: Beast on his way over... but Black blocks him? What the hell?
ID: Glory hog! Bloody hell, he wants Facey for himself!
JC: Someone tell Erik Black that there’s no “I” in TEAM! Which is pretty ironic given that he’s the token tag wrestler left in this match!
ID: I wouldn’t bloody well call it ironic...
JC: FERG’S UP! FERG’S UP! HE JUST PLANTED BLACK WITH THAT DDT! Beast takes the chance to break free and head over to the other ring where Facey is still doing his best fish-out-of-water impersonation! Beast has Facey up...
[Ferguson grabbing Black to his feet in the other ring.]
ID: I don’t like where this is going...
JC: ABSOLUTION 2K4! Cover! One... two... THREE!
[Ferguson lines up Black.]
[DING DING DING!]
MD: Ladies and gentlemen, thuh Illustrious Face-Eatuh has been eliminated!
JC: And look! Duke!
ID: My word, the dream’s still alive...
JC: BOX OFFICE BOMB FROM FERGUSON TO BLACK! Cover... one... two... and Beast’s save attempt is not in time! Ferguson up!
[DING DING DING!]
MD: Ladies and gentlemen, Erik Black has been eliminated!
JC: Ferguson hops back and we’re down to our final two competitors! One a team, and both of them the Most Valuable Wrestler candidates!
ID: You couldn’t have bloody written a better ending!
JC: You could say that again, Duke, but I think that’s a poor choice of words given the business we’re in. Beast and Ferguson circling each other, almost like we’re down to square one, except Ferguson has been through the proverbial wringer. Beast is relatively fresh, and he’s got to have the upper hand.
[Grapple.]
ID: But despite his obvious ginger genetics, Ferguson has a second wind, an overdrive, a heart of a Champion.
[Clean break. They circle each other again.]
JC: Jesus Duke, if that were anyone you didn’t have money on, you’d be accusing them of using PEDs right now. Circle and grapple again, this time Beast with the upper hand, side headlock, Ferguson shoves him off. Beast into the ropes, going for the HYOOOGE LARIATO... NO! Ferguson ducks! Beast off the ropes again and leaps for the Thesz... NO! SPINEBUSTER FROM BEAST! I think he just broke Danny Ferguson’s and the A-List’s back with that one! Cover... one... two... NO! Ferguson kicks out!
ID: I’m hyperventilating!
JC: Don’t die on me Dukey! I have a feeling we still have plenty of match to go! Beast drags Ferguson to his feet, right hand blocked! Ferguson sends one right back and connects! And a second and a third! Ferguson off the ropes with the clothesline that Beast counters right into a Fujiwara armbar!
ID: Just when you think the tide’s turned...
JC: That’s just the way Beast is. He’s big and hairy, but he’s also a skilled counterwrestler and martial artist. He knows so many submission holds that men half his size would be hard-pressed to keep up with him.
[Ferguson squirms out of the hold and pops up grabbing his shoulder.]
ID: That much is true, and that’s why my poor uncle is about to be repossessed by the bank.
[Beast comes after Ferguson again with a forearm to Ferguson’s shoulder.]
JC: I didn’t know they could repossess humans.
[And another.]
ID: Oh sod off.
[And another. Ferguson goes down.]
JC: Thanks Duke, didn’t know you cared. Beast relentless in his pursuit of the Cup, and he’s going to try and make Ferguson tap again, this time with a cross armbreaker!
ID: That’s painful, even just to watch.
JC: Oh pipe down, you sissy. Just because you tapped to a headlock...
ID: UNSUBSTANTIATED RUMOURS!
JC: Ladies and gentlemen, the Iron Duke. Ferguson inching his way to the ropes, but I don’t think he realizes there are no safe zones in a War Games match!
ID: Well, he can at least use the ropes for leverage to get out of the hold. Or at least that’s what I’m bloody well hoping.
JC: I don’t think Beast is going to let him get that far! Up and stomping on Ferguson’s shoulder like it was grapes at a French vineyard!
ID: Bloody French! You should have just bloody mentioned Joey Melton and Michael Manson and I might not have to take any blood pressure medication.
JC: Sounds like a personal problem, Duke. Beast scoops up Ferguson up... shoulderbreaker! Once again, Beast is relentless!
ID: He’d better not do anything to damage Ferguson’s movie career. I’m sure that he’s got lawyers around the block waiting just in case they have a malicious assault suit or something going.
[Beast goes to scoop Ferguson up again.]
JC: That’s what stuntmen are... WAIT A SECOND! FERG WITH THE INSIDE CRADLE!! One... two... NO! Beast kicks out and Ferg rolls out of the way! There’s life left in him after all! Beast is up and he’s livid! Charges at Ferguson... olé! Beast chest first into the ropes and Ferguson again with the roll-up... one... two... no! Beast kicks out! Both men up, and Beast is... yelling at Ferg to take a shot?
ID: Bloody hell! Has he gone right daft?
JC: There’s gotta be something else to this. Ferg winds up and cracks Beast upside the forehead... with his bad arm! He’s holding his shoulder, and he fell right for the trap!
ID: I guess that furry fauna has a brain after all!
JC: I don’t think you should let him hear you call him a fauna, Duke. Kick to Ferguson’s gut, and I think we’re going to see a power bomb here!
ID: Bloody hell...
JC: Ferg up and... he’s going southpaw! He’s giving Beast some drilling lefts at the height of that bomb! Beast is wobbling... he’s out! Ferg got out of that predicament, and now both men are lying in a crumpled heap on the canvas!
ID: I swear, I think I got goosebumps on me bloody goosebumps!
JC: Both men slow to get up, and there’s no count here because there’s no draw in a War Games match. Someone has to win this match! Someone has to take home the Dupree Cup, and you know both of those men want to hoist it high with their teammates. Ferguson in the ropes, holding his shoulder. Beast on the other side of the one ring, and his bell is a little rung.
ID: Considering he was just in a crumpled wreck, I might want to say more than just rung, Jesse.
JC: Beast staggers over to Ferguson... Ferg kicks him in the gut! Can he get him up for the Box Office Bomb?
ID: My uncle bloody well hopes he can!
JC: He’s struggling to get him in position for that tombstone... his shoulder just may not have the strength! He... he... he can’t! He can’t and Beast chops him across the jaw for his efforts! Beast whips him into the ropes... LARIA... Ferg ducks! Beast turns ‘round... kick to the gut... BOMB! BOX OFFICE BOMB! Ferg hit it, but I’m not sure how much he had behind it! Cover... one... two...
ID: YES!
JC: NO! Beast kicks out! Beast kicks out!
ID: Oh bloody hell!
JC: AND A RAKE OF THE EYE! Beast just gouged Ferguson in the eyes! He wants that Cup so badly, he’ll blind another man to get it!
ID: Dirty pool! Dirty pool!
JC: Oh normally, you’d be all over that, Duke. My, how the roles have been reversed, and now, Beast is lining up Ferguson for something painful.
ID: Oh no!
JC: Say your prayers...
ID: Our Father, who...
JC: Not you! Ferguson! Beast charges in... FERGUSON MOVED! FERGUSON DODGED THE GORE AND BEAST JUST ATE THE BLUE PAINT OFF OF THAT CORRUGATED STEEL CAGE!
ID: There is a God and he loves me... err, my uncle!
JC: Both men staggering to their feet, Ferguson there first... kick to the gut, but Beast catches it!
ID: Enzugiri?
JC: Not quite! Beast spins Ferg around... GORE! GORE! Beast just Gored Danny Ferguson out of his pants! Beast has virtually locked this up for Team A1E... cover... one... two... th... NO! NO! Ferguson kicked out! Ferguson kicked out!
[Beast raises his arm in the air and roars... literally roars.]
JC: I don’t know about you, Duke, but I think Beast wants to finish this match. He’s stalking Ferguson.
ID: I’m getting a bit twisted in me knickers here Jesse.
JC: That’s... disgusting, Duke. Ferguson up, kick to the gut... Beast going for Absolution... NO! Too much momentum on the pumphandle and Ferguson flipped behind Beast!
ID: Turn around! Turn around!
JC: He does just that...
[Pause, Ferg kicks Beast in the gut.]
JC: BOX OFFICE BOMB! BOX OFFICE BOMB! FERGUSON HIT A SECOND BOX OFFICE BOMB! He falls exhausted over Beast... one... two......... THREE! THREE! FERG DID IT! THE A-LIST DID IT!
[DING DING DING!]
MD: Your sole survivuh in this War Games match... Danny Ferguson!
[Huge pop.]
MD: And your winnuhs... and 2007 DUPREE CUP CHAMPIONS...
[Facey, Tsonda and Fuquieawytas make their way back down to the cage.]
MD: THUH... AAAAAAAAAAAAAYYEEEEEEEE-LIIIISSSSSSSSSST!
JC: I can’t believe this! You have to give it up to Danny Ferguson. That man carried the A-List on his back. Duke? Duke? I think the Duke passed out because his uncle just won a lot of money. But you have to give it up to Beast too. He lived up to his name, and he’s just an incredible athlete. Look in that ring though. The four of them celebrating, and Ferguson’s carried them through so much...
[Tom Holzerman comes down with four security guards carrying the Dupree Cup with white gloves. One other guard trails them carrying the Rob Sampson Most Valuable Wrestler Trophy.]
JC: And here comes the reason for the tournament, the Cup... Jesus, I’m overcome right now.
[Holzerman and the guards enter the ring. Holzerman grabs a microphone.]
TH: Hello everyone, and please join me in congratulating the 2007 Dupree Cup Champions, The A-List!
[Another huge pop.]
TH: On behalf of TEAM, the Skyreach Centre, all the wrestlers who’ve participated, every fan who’s attended or watched this fine event and in the memory of Chad Dupree, I’d like to present you with the Chad Dupree Memorial Cup. Please hold it high, as it is a great honor!
[The guards hand the Dupree Cup to Facey and Tsonda, who then hand it over to Fuquieawytas, who holds it high.]
TH: And to you, Danny Ferguson, the man who was adjudged by a panel of writers, wrestlers and administrators as the best wrestler in this entire tourney, I present to you the Rob Sampson Memorial Most Valuable Wrestler Trophy. Hold it high, because that is also a great honor!
[Ferguson holds the trophy up with his left arm, his right shoulder still aching. Holzerman begins another round of applause as the arena explodes in congratulatory popping.]
JC: That’s it! Thanks for tuning in! Congrats A-List! You are the Ultimate TEAM for 2007! Please join us for even more action in 2008! For the Duke, I’m Jess Chapel... goodnight everyone!
[Fade to
]
