Welcome To Classic Wrestling: Episode 20
The Classic Wrestling fans are going crazy in the studio as we come onto the air. The cameras zoom past them as they all stand and cheer. I’m sure most of the fans at home are doing the same. The cameras come to rest on Otto Price behind his podium. He smiles from ear to ear as the tones of AC/DC begin to fade out. He speaks into his microphone as we open the show.
Price: Welcome Classic Wrestling fans to the 20th airing of Classic Wrestling on RBTV! I’m your host, Otto Price!
The fans cheer for Otto-bot.
Price: We’ve got a very exciting night of Wrestling action planned but we’ve also got some HUGE announcements regarding ClassicMania! Remember fans, tickets are on sale right now for the big show! We’re going to be coming to you LIVE on Pay Per View from The Joe Louis Arena in lovely Detroit, Michigan! We’re just a few weeks away from the biggest event in the history of Classic Wrestling!
Classic fans around the country pick up their phones and call their favorite nationwide ticket chain… TicketBlaster!
Price: Coming up tonight we’ve got great singles action including our Main Event when the HUGE Holo Make takes on the man whos been dead set on getting his hands on Alex Bruder… “Feral” Freddy Kilgore! Two huge superstars! One Classic Wrestling ring!
“KILGORE! KILGORE! KILGORE!” Breaks out across the studio.
Price: We’ve got a big tag team match as our Champions, The Amazing Amaretto’s will face The Bolts in a non title matchup! Can the champions defeat the dark duo? Or will Walt Whezl draw up a succesful plan?
The fans boo both teams loudly. Although there is some love for Suzie in the crowd, including a couple of Tshirts in the front row labeled “The Suzie Section”. They also have unlit cigarettes in their mouths!
Price: All of that plus four other action packed matchups! Strap in old school wrestling fans, it’s about to be Classic! Now I’m going to send it down to my partners at ringside for our first matchup!
Haul vs Cal Crawford
As soon as the bell rings Haul shows aggression and bolts towards Crawford. He immediately puts the man into the corner. Crawford weasels his way between the ropes as the ref quickly steps in and breaks the two men apart. Haul reluctantly steps backwards as Crawford waves him away with the back of his hand. Crawford adjusts his tights much to the dismay of Haul.
Moss: Looks like Crawford wants to get in the head of Haul.
Howley: It shouldn’t be that difficult. Just look at the man. Pretty sure I hired him for some grunt work a few years back.
Moss: I highly doubt that.
Howley (Screaming at Haul): YOU STOLE FIFTY BUCKS AND YOU DIDN’T PAINT MY SHED!
Haul once again goes on the attack, but Crawford ducks between the ropes and out of harms way. Clearly frustrated, Haul shoves the ref to the side and drags Crawford back to the ring and let’s loose a flurry of elbows to the side of Crawford’s head. Cal gets a bit of a reprieve when he thumbs Haul in the eye and buys himself some time.
Moss: Just blatant cheating right there.
Howley: He gets what he deserves.
Moss: I’m fairly certain you didn’t pay him to paint your shed.
Howley: How would you know?
Cal runs off the ropes but is met by a boot to the midsection. Haul clubs down on the back of the hunched over Crawford, who falls face first to the mat. Haul begins to stomp on his downed opponent. Haul picks Cal up by the hair and tries to lift him high into the air for a suplex but Cal hooks a leg around one of Haul’s. Haul tries again but it is once again blocked.
Moss: Cal is doing everything in his power not to kiss the mat.
Howley: Looks like he won’t have much of a choice here in a second.
Haul raises a knee to the midsection of Crawford, lifts him up and flattens him face first on to the mat. Haul goes for a pin.
Crawford gets a shoulder up at the last second.
Moss: Looks like Haul has this match well in his grasp in a dominant fashion.
Howley: On second thought the guy I hired was clearly not him.
Moss: Thought you’d come around eventually.
Haul runs his hands through his hair as he sits up. He nods slightly towards Crawford who is rolling towards the ropes. Haul reaches out with a hand and grabs the ankle of Crawford. He begins to kick his feet wildly as he stretches for the bottom rope. With his other hand Haul grabs both feet and drags Crawford to the middle of the ring.
Moss: This doesn’t look good for Cal.
Howley: Not sure there’s much more he could do to survive at this point.
With both men in the middle Haul gets to his feet and hovers over Crawford who holds both hands up begging.
Moss: Classic technique to give yourself some time.
Howley : It’s all about buying that extra second.
Haul shakes his head as Crawford kicks up towards Haul but his boot is caught.
Moss: However it doesn’t always work.
Haul pulls Crawford up to his feet and lifts him off the ground easily. Crawford’s arms and legs are swinging wildly. Haul is paying little attention to him when he flings him over his head.
Moss: HAUL AWAY!
Howley: Dead center in the middle of the ring. Count to a billion. Pocket the fifty bucks and call it a day.
Robbins: The Winner of this match Via Pinfall… HAUL!
Moss: What a victory for one half of REPOSSESSED!
The bell rings and the fans boo loudly. Gnash on the outside is happy enough with the outcome but doesn’t exactly jump for joy for his Tag Team Partner.
Howley: These guys may be a bit on the weird side, but I’ll tell you this, they sure are dangerous! Watch out to whoever is in their way!
Suddenly, the Blue Öyster Cult’s “Godzilla” begins to buzz throughout the studio, causing a hum of confusion among the ClaW faithful, until the unmistakable presence of a certain manager drives them to jeers.
Moss: Eddie Dante has arrived, fresh off of splitting up his tag team the Foreign Legion in our last episode, and he looks as smug as ever!
As Mushigihara flanks Dante, it’s clear where the smugness comes from, as he saunters into the ring with a waiting Otto Price, visibly nervous as The Emperor follows and comes uncomfortably close to the intrepid interviewer.
Price: Well, Eddie Dante and Mushigihara have requested this time in the ring tonight to address some things, but I guess the most obvious thing to ask is… why? Why did you two attack Leon Van Zandt? Where does this leave the former tag team champions, The Foreign Legion?
Dante grins as he gently coaxes the mic out of Otto’s hand and into his own.
Dante: The simple truth is, Otto Price, that it doesn’t. After a disastrous showing on the so-called “Professional’s” part, a decision was made to send him on his separate way, and to void his contract as a part of the Foreign Legion, and on out of Classic Wrestling, because he simply could not hack it.
A gusher of boos comes Dante’s way, as Mushi just mean-mugs the crowd in response.
Dante: Moving forward, I will push forward with Classic Wrestling’s Emperor, Mushigihara, and show the world just why HE was always the stronger half of the former Classic Tag Team Champions, and soon, he’ll show himself as fit to reach the top of the mountain!
A familiar, thick European accent comes from the speakers, as the screen comes alive with the face of the now-abandoned grappler himself, Leon Van Zandt.
Van Zandt: We are not finished, Meneer Dante. Not yet. You and Mushigihara saw it fit to assault me after we lost last time, but did you truly expect me to not come back for my vengeance? Fool. I am still recovering from that cowardly attack, Meneer Dante; my body is battered and my ego bruised, but my fighting spirit burns on… and it burns for comeuppance.
Dante stares at the big screen, as Van Zandt smolders.
Van Zandt: We will settle this. If I must go to Gruff Meyers myself and demand it, WE WILL settle this. Mushigihara and Leon Van Zandt, at ClassicMania. It will happen, and I will get a measure of satisfaction. Any attempt to frustrate that will simply delay the inevitable, and make the payment for your actions more grave. You’ve been warned.
The screen goes dark, and the camera focuses on Eddie Dante, who slowly goes from a stoic, observant viewer, back to his smug, self-satisfied grin as he shakes his head and mouths the words “I don’t think so.” The crowd jeers once more at him and his massive client as they depart the ring, and file out backstage, as the feed cuts to commercial.
Scott Hunter vs Jay Evans
Both Jay Evans and Scott Hunter stand in the ring. Hunter is stretching his arms back and forth to loose up while Evans pulls on the ropes in preparation.
Moss: We’re ready to go wrestling fans… introductions were given before the break and here we go!
Evans and Hunter immediately begin to circle each other with their arms at the ready for a lock up. They go around a few times, both looking for an opening… when suddenly…
Moss: Wait… Evans is asking for a mic.
Howley: If we have to listen to some of that music the kids today like so much, I’m outta here.
Evans holds the mic up while he paces around the ring.
Jay Evans: Yo! I’ma break it down for you right here…
NOPE! Hunter takes the opportunity to clip Evan’s knee out, causing the rap star to fall backwards to the mat. Hunter maintains control of the knee, extending Evan’s leg and dropping a series of rapid fire elbows right into the joint.
Moss: Scott Hunter in no mode for nonsense here tonight, and he appears to have a gameplan.
Howley: Think he’s showing off for his would-be future partner?
After lifting Evan’s entire leg and driving it knee first into the mat three times, Hunter then drapes Evan’s knee over the middle rope and drops down with a senton causing Evans to clutch his leg and cry out in frustration. Scott drags his opponent away from the ropes and toward the center of the ring as Evans futilely tries to reach out for help. A kneebreaker later, and Hunter is signaling for the end.
Moss: Scott Hunter is thinking Figure Four here! A dominant showing that you have to believe might be his attempt, as you said, to attract a tag team partner in his quest for gold.
Hunter gets one leg wrapped around, but as he bends down to grab the second leg… Hunter is able to roll him up into a small package outtanowhere!
Howley: Evans almost caught one, Moss!
Both men back up, and Evans scores with a desperation clothesline! Hunter scrambles back to his feet only to eat another! Evans is firing up! He hooks Scott Hunter for a suplex, and as he brings his opponent over…
…Hunter slips free and lands around the back of Jay Evans with his arms locked around the rapper’s waist! He releases the hold to once again drive all his force into Evan’s knee with a shoulder thrust knee clip, and this time there’s no stopping him as he locks on the Figure Four.
Moss: He has it locked on!
Jay Evans screams out in desperation as he reaches for the ropes, but he’s way too far away. The referee moves in to check and see if he’d like to give up, but he shakes his head no. He drops down flat on his back to try to relieve some of the pressure, but with his shoulders down the ref moves in to make the count…
No! He gets his shoulder up before he can lose. But within seconds, they’re back down again.
Evans shakes his head and grimaces. He plants both his fists into the mat, trying to summon enough power to turn the move over!
Moss: Jay Evans looking to reverse the pressure!
Howley: C’mon Evans, show this jabroni what you’re made of!
Evans grunts as he turns… turns… turns… he ALMOST has Hunter over… he’s SO close…
…but in the end, he just can’t. He collapses to the mat and has no choice but to tap out to avoid his knee being permanently damaged.
Hunter immediately breaks the hold and gets to his feet to allow the referee to raise his hand in victory.
Robbins: Your winner via submission… SCOTT! HUNTER!
Moss: Hunter wasn’t messing around tonight. He had something to prove
Before the shroud of the blackest midnight descended upon the studio audience of CLASSIC WRESTLING, the hellebore sound of a black hole rotating began the incantations of the damned “first prayer” intermingled with inordinate sounds grinding.
A white light shone down over the entrance wherein flanking the looming Shadow over Innsmouth that was Lord Colossus stood Huninn and Muninn. The pleather and pewter of the Bolts paled in comparison to all that which is their Colossal Lord.
Walt Whezl capered, as Lord Colossus simply gloamed towards the stage. Whezl reached the microphone first, whereupon Huginn and Muninn shuffled up to him, lackeys lacking in both spinal fluid and that object it surrounds. The three men who were almost one Lord Colossus if they stuffed into a trench coat had more confidence than they were due.
The entire reason was the miasmatic monstrosity behind them.
Whezl: If you seek a monument! Look around you! If you seek salvation, KNOW THE LIGHTS HAVE GONE OUT ON CLASSIC WRESTLING THIS DAY!
Lord Colossus stood immobile behind him.
Whezl: Not only today do we offer sacrifices to the great miasma in the form of Both LARRY ROCKFIELD but also, The Amazing Amarettoes are offered up! CURSED IS HE WHO TRUSTS MANKIND! THEY WHO MAKE THEIR STRENGTH IN THE FLESH AND CLEVERNESS! The cursed constellation has formed over Classic wrestling and on this day…
A single hand of spikes reached over the top of the three men, and grabbed the microphone briefly lifting Whezl from the ground before he relinquished the stick.
Lord Colossus: Every letter is a codex of abject horror to men like Larry Rockfield who presume to stand in the unlight of feverish convulsions. Before me are three supplicants to the void themselves. Willing or not.
Both Huginn and Muninn cower at the inference of choice. As if there was any.
Lord Colossus: The shadow of terror casts long, very low it brings the strongest of men, very low it brings all whom would stand before it.
Lord Colossus looks at the three men before him.
Lord Colossus: The presumptions of constellations and the lack of knowledge in their distances and non-archimedean distances reveal the greatest weakness. That before me are supplicants. Desiring to be brought to nothing. Desiring to be brought to the void.
They must walk alone. For though the great maw spins ad infinitum, not even the splinters of your spines will adorn it, if not from your own hand. Suck the marrow of darkness each of you on your own, and you will have proven yourself to me. But those devices are yours. YOURS ALONE.
The voice of Lord Colossus took up the power of the astral drain.
Lord Colossus: LE VENT DE LA VERITE A REPONDU COMME UNE GIFLE A LA JOUE TENDUE DE LA PIETE!
He dropped the mic and left his lackey’s befuddled.
Howley: What in the entire heck was that about?
Moss: You mean, all of the hecks? The entirety of hecks given, Thunderbird?
Howley: You better remember who it is yer gettin’ familiar with there, Moss! Just because I’m retired don’t mean I forgot how to smack around nerds like you!
Moss: Moving right along, joining us here at the desk for the next match is none other than the Premier American Champion himself! Ladies and gentlemen, King Kong Frank!
Ever the embodiment of chaos and commotion, Frank unleashes himself onto the commentary station. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Howley: Speak English!
Howley: I can’t even-
KKF: HUSS! HUSS! HUSS!
The crowd gets behind Frank immediately, hussing along with him much to the chagrin of one Joel “Thunderbird” Howley.
Howley: You better be glad I’m retired, bub!
KKF: HAH! You done mashed yer own taters, Thunderchicken! Ol’ Frank ain’t a’scared of you an’ that big mouth’a yours, an if’n yer lookin’ to catch a good ol’ fashioned country BUTT-WHOOPIN then keep on yackin’, fatboy! YOU UNNARSTANNIT?
A familiar voice chimes in from just outside the field of vision.
It’s Scott Hunter, waltzing up to the announcer’s booth.
Scott Hunter: Fancy meeting you here.
Scott looks around worriedly.
Scott Hunter: You didn’t bring any of those bears with you, did you?
Bushy brows furrow over wild eyes. King Kong Frank regards the smaller man with a hint of respect that might not be perceptible unless you knew specifically what to look for.
KKF: Is you soft in the head, boy?
Scott actually feels his own skull.
Scott Hunter: No.
Joel Howley clears his throat, loudly.
Moss: That is to say, what can we do for you Mr. Hunter? We’re just about to get the next matchup underway and-
Hunter waves a hand and pulls up a chair.
Scott Hunter: Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just out here to do some scouting of the Adequate Armadillos up there. The moustache guys. I don’t remember which is which. I know they used to be plumbers…
His voice trails off.
KKF: Is you messin’ with ol’ Frank, boy? I can’t never tell how squirrely you actually is!
Scott ignores Frank’s trepidation.
Scott Hunter: Well technically I was planning on coming out here and making lewd comments and gestures toward the Aboriginal Aligators, but I suppose I could do some commentary.
With that, Hunter picks up an extra headset and puts it on his head.
Scott Hunter: One, two… testing… three, five? Okay, it works.
Moss: Well um, I guess we have TWO guest commentators for this match…
Howley: Not with this again!
Amazing Amarettos vs The Bolts
Through the distraction of King Kong Frank and the brash velocity of Scott Hunter’s wit and presence, the diminutive Huginn and Muninn, collectively known as The Bolts, find themselves standing in the center of the ring. There is no Walt Whezl, no Lord Colossus.
There is certainly a void, only not thee void, ya dig?
The magic word is accompanied by a theatrical puff of smoke.
Also probably a bunch of mirrors.
KKF: I ain’t fer all this hoodoo magick hullaballoo! Gives me the heebee-jeebees!
Next thing anybody knows Carlo and Gomez are not only inside the ring, but each Amazing Amaretto is perched atop an opposing turnbuckle with their tag title belts gleaming and holding the most broad of “ta-da” poses. There is an overly-sized padded neck brace wrapped securely around Gomez’s neck, likely the result of being strangulated by King Kong Frank at Classic 19. The bell is called for.
DING! DING!! DING!!!
Hunter: To be fair, you don’t like anything but moonshine and dirty feet!
Howley: HA! You tell ‘em, Scott!
Howley: What? Where’s the lie?
Inside the ring the match plays out about like you’d expect. The Amarettos’ speed and guile have got the Bolts looking like a couple of confused toddlers with two left feet out there. Throw in a splash of twin-magic and a heaping helping of misdirectional prestidigitation and it’s not long before Carlo’s got Huginn isolated in the Amarettos corner and the tag champs really start going to work.
Moss: I’ll say this about the Amarettos, they may not always follow the rules as written, and sometimes I think they cheat just to see if they can get away with it, but you won’t find a better-prepared tag team anywhere in CLASSIC Wrestling!
Hunter: I beg to differ! I personally belong to one-half of the greatest tag team of all time! Not only that, but I can all but GUARANTEE a Tag Team Title run by the end of the year, nay the month!
Howley: You an’ what army, kid? You ain’t even got a partner!
Hunter: Bah! Semantics…
Meanwhile, the Amarettos continue putting on an exhibition in tag team wrestling, completely out-classing the Bolts at every turn. At one point Muninn almost gets in an offensive hold, but Gomez bamboozles him right back into the corner where Carlo is ready with an extended hand for the tag and the double-team is on!
KKF: I don’t get it. Why don’t one’a them gimpy lookin’ fellers just pick up somethin’ big and smash it over one’a them Harry Potter dorks’ big ugly head?
Hunter: Well, far be it for me to assume, but wouldn’t that go against the rules?
KKF: The whats?
Hunter: The rules. Of engagement. The entire reason for the referee? None of this sounds familiar to you?
KKF: Reckon I just like to rassle, ain’t never paid no attention to no rules!
Howley: That explains a lot.
Howley: What? It does!
More fancy and fantastical offense ensues inside the ring and before long each Amazing Amaretto is perched atop an opposite turnbuckle.
Hunter: Is this bunch of smoke and mirrors really the best representation of tag team wrestling here at CLASSIC? I mean really?
KKF: Gol’dang buncha HOODOO SORCERY iff’n ya ask me!
Hunter: Which, you may note, I did not.
Gomez and Carlo both leap in unison. If anybody liked the Amarettos this is where you’d see flashbulbs popping in the background. Nobody likes them, though, so what you do see is a bunch of people with boo-boo faces getting ready to heckle the tag team champs!
Moss: AMAZING ATOM SMASHER! It’s all academic now!
KKF: Ol’ Frank didn’t see no *accidents!* Looked like a couple’a highfalutin ELBOW DRAWPS to me! HEH-HAH! HUSS!
Hunter: I can’t… I absolutely can not.
Howley: Me either, kid. Me either.
The cover is made. The referee is in position.
DING! DING! DING!
Robbins: Your winners of the match, Carlo and Gomez, the AMAZING AMARETTOS!
There are boos.
But also, there are cheers.
Moss: There’s some commotion going on over by the-
Howley: It’s Haul and Gnash! The REPOSSESSED!
It absolutely is, and the two Post-Apoc Powerhouses make it very loud and very clear that they’re next in line for a shot at the CLASSIC Tag Team Titles!
Hunter: Oh, absolutely not! I called dibs last week!
Scott Hunter is up quicker than a hiccup, he doffs the headphones from the commentation station and makes off in the direction of the interloping Haul and Gnash.
KKF: DANGIT BOY! YOU AIN’T EVEN GOT NO PARTNER!
Meanwhile, inside the ring, the Champions are strongly implicating that there is absolutely no way that they’re defending against Repossessed.
Moss: This is getting out of hand!
KKF: HA! YOU AIN’T SEEN NUFFIN YET! HUSS!
Scott Hunter walks right up to Haul and jabs a finger into his chest.
Hunter: BACK OF THE LINE, BUB! I GOT DIBS!
Gnash trucks him.
The Amarettos point and laugh.
King Kong Frank gets serious.
KKF: Reckon I’mma go help the kid, beat me up another couple’a them whips an’ chains yay-hoos! They’s like a buncha dang ol’ palmetto bugs out there, prob’ly survive the dad-blasted ‘pacolypse just by hidin’ under a buncha rocks!
Frank wasn’t using headphones, and it doesn’t take him too many powerful steps before he’s standing right in front of both Haul and Gnash, daring either one of them to make a move! Scott Hunter scrambles to recover and before you know it the lightbulb goes off over his head, a very possible partner having presented himself at just the right time!
Howley: Looks like they’re about to kick it into high gear over a shot at the Tag Titles, Moss!
Moss: Speaking of, the Amazing Amarettos seem to have vanished into thin air!
Actually, they’re hiding underneath the ring. The champs bailed from the ring as soon as King Kong Frank stood up and they “magically” crawled under the ring where the plan was clearly to wait until a commercial break after the commotion to come out again.
“NOW YOU FOUR LISTEN HERE!”
Moss: That voice… it’s so… gruff.
Howley: That’s because it’s GRUFF MYERS!
Moss: The Commissioner is in the house tonight!
Gruff Myers: Y’all wanna fight?
That is an overwhelmingly enthusiastic quadruple yes.
Gruff Myers: Y’all want a shot at-
He points at the ring where the champs are not. Rolling his eyes, he gets back to the task at hand.
Gruff Myers: …at the Tag Team Titles?
More enthusiastic agreement, the fight has been momentarily forgotten.
Gruff Myers: Good! Great! Then as of right now, you can keep yer hands to yourselves!
Gruff has meanwhile managed to wedge himself bodily between the four men just in case the need to “handle business” should arise.
Gruff Myers: Because next week it’s gonna be you two…
He eyeballs the Reposessed.
Gruff Myers: Against you two!
Gruff’s gaze darts to Scott and Frank.
Gruff Myers: Winners get the Champs at CLASSICMANIA!
…and the crowd goes bananas.
Cut to commercial.
The match over, Alex Bruder stomps over to a corner, leaning his chest against the top turnbuckle and catching his breath. It must be true that there’s no rest for the wicked, as he barely lowers his head before the opening chords of “Wildside” blare over the loudspeakers of the Classic Wrestling Studio!
Moss: You had to know this was coming. “Feral” Freddy KIlgore has been hunting down Alex Bruder for weeks, and it looks like he’s finally got him dead to rights. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him move that fast!
Kilgore hits the ring at full speed, sliding under the bottom rope and quickly getting to his feet. Bruder is able to turn and get his hands up as Kilgore rocks him with big lefts and rights. Kilgore scoops him up and slams him to the mat, then grabs Bruder by the wrist and jerks him back up so he could do it again.
Howley: Impressive strength by Kilgore, but he has a huge main event with Holo Make later tonight. Is this the best use of his focus and energy?
The crowd, despite not hearing Howley, cheers in a way suggesting that they believe it very much is. Alex hits the mat after the second body slam and rolls outside, perhaps looking to make another exit, but Kilgore just as quickly leaves the ring between Bruder and the entrance way.
Moss: Get a load of this! Bruder has his hands up, trying to soothe the wild Apex Predator. Good luck with that.
Kilgore licks his lips, shakes his head back and forth, and charges at Alex Bruder, only to be tripped by a drop toe hold, and crashing face first into the barrier between the ring and the crowd.
Howley: Good night, and thanks for coming, Freddy Kilgore.
“All Business” looks down on a knocked out Kilgore. He tenuously grabs a fistful of hair and drags Kilgore’s face against it, and still no response from Papa Wild Thang. The terror in his eyes vanishes, and he cockily struts over to little Mikey Collins and his father seated just a few feet away.
Bruder: You see kid? Not sure why people don’t listen to me when I tell them the truth. Ain’t no such thing as heroes!
Moss: Bruder may need to double check his math. Kilgore is back on his feet!
It takes Bruder a second to notice the change in crowd response and tempo – but he’s no dummy, and his eyes go wide as he pieces it together. He turns swiftly, looking to catch Kilgore with a cheap shot. He connects… but Kilgore absorbs the blow and shakes it off! The crowd response swells as Bruder goes for a second shot, but this one is blocked by Kilgore and answered with one! Two! Three right hands! Kilgore grabs Bruder by the back of the head and swiftly rolls him into the ring.
Moss: I fear there’s nowhere to run for Mr. Bruder.
In the ring, Bruder is trying to crawl under the bottom rope to safety but his leg is caught. He’s brought up only to be clotheslined back down. Bruder stumbles into the corner where he’s caught with several stiff stomps to the chest. Kilgore’s eyes are that of a crazed animal as he lifts Bruder up, wraps his arms around his waist, and simply throws the man across the ring. Bruder lands in a heap, sitting up and appearing to be dazed. Kilgore responds by kicking him in the face and keep his head up so he can unload with more right hands.
Moss: Alex Bruder can’t defend himself… Freddy Kilgore might want to be careful here…
The referee for the previous contest tries to reason with Kilgore, but Papa Wild Thang pays him no heed. Finally, the ref is bold enough to try to pry Kilgore off Bruder… but he gets a SHOVE across the ring for his troubles!
Moss: That is NOT the Freddy Kilgore we know! He’s completely snapped here!
Howley: He’s a wild animal. Maybe it’s time somebody put him down before he hurts anyone else…
With Kiglore turned to push the ref, Bruder takes full advantage by kicking Freddy off him and desperately rolling under the bottom rope. “All Business” hits the mat and tries to get up and make a hasty exit, but in his dazed state he’s not quick enough. Kilgore is out of the ring in a flash and he simply continues his onslaught of brutal right hands. At this point, all Alex Bruder can do is roll up into a ball and pray for the raging berserker to run out of steam – but by the look on Papa WIld Thang’s face, that ain’t happening anytime soon.
But as fate would have it, the beatdown is happening right in front of a particular little boy… as Mikey Collins watches with a confused look on his face as his hero savagely beats on a helpless opponent. Kilgore’s red face radiates pure hatred… until he’s again stopped by a hand on his shoulder. But this time, it’s not a referee… it’s from over the barricade, and it’s Mikey Collins father – the very man who Alex Bruder assaulted months ago. The hatred slowly drains out of Kilgore’s face as he looks eyes with Mr. Collins… and then cranes his head down to little Mikey, who looks terrified.
Mr. Collins: Please! Freddy! I need you… I need you to be the hero the boy thinks you are…
Kilgore again looks at Mikey… and now all the anger has gone from his face. He sighs, looking down at Alex Bruder, who is still curled up in a ball. He withdraws his right hand. Uncurls his first… and instead holds it out to Mikey for a high five. Mikey looks timid at first, but after a reassuring look from his father, he high fives his hero. Big smiles all around.
Moss: Mikey Collins bringing the crazed Freddy Kilgore back from the brink.
Howley: Gag me.
Kilgore walks away from Bruder, stepping over to the small table where the timekeeper sits. We can’t hear what he says, but he holds out his hand as if asking for something, and in response the timekeeper hands him a microphone. Kilgore rolls into the ring before getting back to his feet and raising the mic to his lips.
Freddy Kilgore: Alex Bruder… get up, baby.
On the outside, Bruder has figured out that the coast is clear, and is using the guardrail to get back to his feet. He turns to meet the cold gaze of his rival in the ring.
Freddy Kilgore: Bruder, this needs to end, baby. I need this to end. You need this to end. I can chase you through Classic until the end of time, I can rip you to pieces, and leave you laying for the vultures to pick up what’s left, and you’ll have deserved all of it… but as one of my little Wildhearts just reminded me, that’s not who I am. Not who Papa Wild Thang wants to be.
Bruder still looks stunned, but he’s paying attention to Kilgore.
Kilgore: When we fought at Capital Clash, you didn’t have a choice. Like every spineless coward, you were backed into a corner. But you want this end? YOU WANT TO STOP LOOKING OVER YOUR SHOULDER!? ACCEPT MY CHALLENGE!
A pause to let the anticipation build.
Freddy Kilgore: PAPA WILD THANG… AGAINST ALEX BRUDER… IN. A. STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL. CAGE!!!!!
The crowd positively erupts at the promise of blood and mayhem.
Freddy Kilgore: IN THAT CAGE, WE BATTLE ONE LAST TIME. IN THAT CAGE, WE BATTLE LIKE MEN. IN THAT CAGE… WE. END. THIS!!!! Say yes, Bruder, and I’ll see you at ClassicMania. Say no?
Kilgore looks to his feet, looks back at little Mikey Collins, and finally meets eyes with Bruder again.
Kilgore: I’m trying to be the better man. Don’t make think about the alternative, baby.
Kilgore goes to the corner furthest away from Alex, giving him the opening to make his exit. He then rolls out for the ring and starts slapping hands with the fans at ringside, starting again with Little Mikey Collins.
Lord Colossus vs Larry Rockfield
We come back to ringside, where we see Harold Robbins and Kevin Clady have been joined in the ring by Lord Colossus and Larry Rockfield before we cut to commentary!
Moss: We’re back with a big, big match ahead of us as Lord Colossus takes on Larry Rockfield!
Howley: I love a good hoss fight, Patrick! This gon’ get good!
Robbins: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first…from Parts Unknown, weighing in a whopping 350 pounds…LORD COLOSSUS!
The crowd boos Colossus, who pays no mind to his detractors as Wehzl taunts them.
Robbins: And his opponent…from Asbury Park, New Jersey, weighing in at an immense 390 pounds…LARRY ROCKFIELD!
Those in the crowd familiar with Larry’s story are seen rooting for him, with the majority still trying to make heads or tails of the relative newcomer. With both men ready, Clady calls for the bell to start this match!
The big men lock up, each looking for the advantage over the other in terms of the power game…and eventually, we see Colossus gaining said advantage as he sends Rockfield into the ropes, before connecting with a shoulder tackle…but the Diamond doesn’t break!
Moss: Whoa! Rockfield is NOT down after that big shoulder tackle!
Howley: No way Colossus is gonna let this lie! Rockfield’s still standing but he could be in trouble!
Larry taunts Colossus before hitting the ropes again, this time looking to be the aggressor as he looks for a shoulder tackle on Colossus…who doesn’t fall down either!
Moss: Lord Colossus standing tall after that tackle, and we have ourselves a standoff!
Howley: Something’s gotta give, Patrick, and I have a feeling it’s gonna happen sooner rather than later!
Thunderbird accidentally playing the role of Nostradamus here as the massive men go at it, trading lefts and rights until Rockfield sends Colossus to the ropes, looking for a clothesline on the rebound…who sticks his arm out in self-defense, and both men get caught! The hulking masses both drop to the canvas, much to the surprise of the crowd as Clady checks before starting his count!
We see Colossus slowly coming to, as is Rockfield.
Both men look a little wobbly but make it back to their feet, stopping the count! Colossus manages to snap out of it quickly, hitting a knee to the midsection of Rockfield that doubles the Diamond over!
Moss: Oh boy, could this be it?
Howley: Rockfield’s a big boy, can Colossus throw this volt!?
Colossus sets Larry up, but the lower center of gravity makes it difficult for the taller Colossus to hoist Rockfield over! Larry tries to fight out of it, but gets another knee to the midsection for his troubles…and this time, Colossus manages to lift the Diamond up and over, releasing him to the canvas for a huuuuuge powerbomb!
Moss: Volt Throw!
Howley: My lord, what power by Colossus here tonight!
Larry Rockfield is down and out as Colossus puts a boot on his chest for the cover!
DING! DING! DING!
Robbins: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pinfall…LOOOOOORD COLOSSUS!
The bell rings and Lord Colossus stands up after the quick match. He looks down at his opponent without guilt, malice, or anger. Like a hunter who appreciates his kill, he stares down at Larry Rockfield.
Moss: Convincing win for Lord Colossus this week as the newcomer Larry Rockfield comes up a little short!
Howley: Colossus is just that. He’s colossal!
Walt Whezl on the outside smacks the mat as he barks orders at Lord Colossus. The fans begin to get loud but the reason is unknown until someone slides under the bottom rope behind Lord Colossus.
Moss: What’s this!?
A big double arm clothesline to the back of the neck drops Colossus face forward. He tries to get back up but the clubbing blows from the enormous arms come fast and furious.
Howley: That’s CHICK GRILLBREAST! What’s he doing here?
He’s attacking Lord Colossus without prejudice. He goes for his neck, shoulders and arms over and over again. He pulls off the cut off shirt he’s wearing and wraps it around the neck of Colossus and steps over his back.
Moss: Choking camel clutch with that cotton shirt! Colossus reaches for the ropes but it’s not a legal match. He’s just as confused as the rest of us on why this would happen!?
Chick finally drops the clutch and stomps on Colossus some more. The fans boo loudly although it’s a slightly mixed reaction as Colossus isn’t a fan favorite either.
Grillbreast reaches down and with a few yanks he’s able to pull the mask off of Lord Colossus’ face. Hidden now by both his hands and what’s left of the cut up tank top that Grillbreast was wearing, he buries his face in the mat.
Howley: Are we finally going to see what this guy looks like!?
Moss: Grillbreast has that mask… wait.. What’s he doing with it?
Flexing as hard as he can we see both ends of the mask start to bend inward toward one another. The fans sit in awe of the strength and then finally the mask gives way and splits into two pieces. Grillbreast slams them down onto the mat and flexes over what’s left of Lord Colossus while letting out a raging yell.
“YOU THINK YOU’RE THE BIGGEST AND BADDEST IN CLASSIC WRESTLING? NOT ANYMORE!”
Grillbreast leaves the ring sending the ring bell off the table on his way through.
Moss: We’ve never seen anyone manhandle Lord Colossus like that! That was incredible!
Howley: I doubt it’s the last we see of these two. If I know Colossus, there’s going to be heck to pay when he comes to!
Moss: We’ve got to take a break, but we’ll be right back Classic Fans!
Freddy Kilgore vs Holo Make
Robbins: Introducing first! In the corner to my left, he hails from a Lost Island in the Pacific! Weighing in tonight at 374 pounds…. HOLO MAKE!
The fans boo loudly as Holo shoots them a nasty look. In the other corner, his opponent hops from one foot to the other, staying loose. The fans get loud as Robbins brings the microphone back to his face.
Robbins: and his opponent! In the corner to my right, he hails from the WILDSIDE! Weighing in at 282 Pounds… Being accompanied by WILDKAT! This is “Feral” FREDDY KILGORE!
The fans get loud and cheer on one of their favorites!
Moss: It’s MAIN EVENT TIME Thunderbird!
Howley: You’re right about that Moss and what a main event we’ve got, two giant hulking men, meeting in the middle of a Classic ring! I hope that thing has been reinforced for all this weight!
Ding Ding Ding!
Freddy Kilgore bursts out of his corner and moves towards the middle of the ring. Holo takes his time but meets him there. The two circle one another before Kilgore motions to the fans. They yell out his name in response. Holo looks unpertrubed.
Howley: Ol’ Feral one doesnt’ look too bothered despite not having the height or weight advantage here!
Moss: Keep in mind we saw earlier tonight Kilgore finally get his hands on Alex Bruder!
Howley: Should have been preparing for this match!
They lock up and Holo is able to gain the advantage quickly. He backs Kilgore into the corner and goes to push him all the way through the ropes. Kilgore hangs onto the tie up and pulls Holo with him and they both now tangle with each other and the ring ropes. Official Chip Newman is quick to begin his five count. Both men break the hold.
Moss: I don’t think Kilgore’s going to let Holo toss him around like he’s used to!
Holo makes a motion that he’s going to break Kilgore in half. The fans boo loudly back at him.
They tie up again, this time Make uses breaks the tie up and grabs Kilgore around the neck. He lifts him off his feet and slams him down quickly.
Howley: Look at the strength! I don’t think Freddy’s got a choice.
Holo backs into the ropes and comes catapulting back with a jumping elbow drop. Kilgore rolls out of the way, much to the delight of the fans. They both get up and Kilgore slaps a headlock on the big man. He cranks on it in the middle of the ring. Holo is able to Irish whip the slightly smaller wrestler off and drops down. Kilgore runs over top of him before Holo gets back up. Holo goes for a hip toss but Freddy Kilgore blocks it. Holo lifts again, and once more Kilgore is able to stop the momentum. Kilgore spins across Make and then tries the same move to him. Make goes up and over. Pumping his fists Kilgore has brought the entire studio to it’s feet.
Make gets back up and catches a chop to his chest for the effort. His arms swing as he tries to keep his balance but the Feral one strikes again with a chop. After a third one, he changes it up with a kick to the gut. Make bends over and Kilgore drops him with a quick suplex. Kilgore floats over and hooks the leg.
KICKOUT by Make!
Moss: Not enough that time!
Kilgore converts the pinfall into an armbar and begins to yank on the muscles in Holo’s shoulder. He reaches out to the ropes but can’t reach them. Chip Newman gets right inside to make sure the big man isn’t giving up.
Holo works his way up to his feet, using his strength to pull Freddy as well. He then lifts with all he’s got to get Freddy into the air. Moving towards the turnbuckle he sets his backside on top of the turnbuckle and uses his free hand to throw a big Hawaiian chop to Kilgore. After a second one the armbar is broken and Freddy is in a precarious position.
Holo Make backs away and then turns around and comes rushing in with both hands above his head.
Moss: WATCH OUT!
Kilgore gets his boot up just in time as it connects with Holo’s face. He holds his jaw and stumbles away from the corner but turns and tries again. Kilgore this time bounces off the second rope and jumps OVER Make, clearing him by a few inches. Kilgore lands on his feet and rolls to ease the impact on his knees. Holo meanwhile crashes into the turnbuckle and turns around holding his chest.
Moss and Howley: CALL OF THE WILD!
The big boot connects against the big man and the entire crowd “OOOOOOOOs” as Holo’s head snaps backwards. He crashes down in the middle of the ring and Kilgore falls on top.
Moss: WOAH! He’s done it! He hit the Call of the Wild by surprise and took the big man down!
Howley: When you have a move like that in your arsenal, sometimes it’s a one hit KO. As was the case here! Holo put up a great fight but Freddy Kilgore had one more big move up his pant leg!
The Bell rings and “Wildside” by Motley Crew starts up. The fans dance along.
Moss: That was an incredible match between Freddy Kilgore and Holo Make, and fans, thank you again for tuning in. With ClassicMania just weeks away, we want to remind you to call your Pay-Per-View provider and order now. Don’t wait for the last minute rush!
“Train of Consequences” starts playing, and Moss seems surprised.
Moss: We are desperately short on time, and Bruder picks now to attack Kilgore again?
Inside the ring, Kilgore is back on his feet and staring at the entrance curtain, his eyes fixed on an emerging “All Business” Alex Bruder. Bruder stops just past the curtain, and derisively golf claps for the King of the Jungle.
The two men lock eyes, and Bruder stops clapping, before offering a curt nod. Kilgore’s eyes appear to be ready to burst out of his skill as he looks toward his hated rival.
Howley: Attack? Never! It looks to me like we have an agreement. At ClassicMania, “Feral” Freddy Kilgore will face “All Business” Alex Bruder inside the steel cage! It’s going to be vicious! Sadistic! Brutal! And we’ll see the action up close and personal!
Moss: The only better seats than ours would be from your living room, live on pay-per-view! For Joel “THUNDERBIRD” Howley, I’m Patrick Moss, this has been Classic Wrestling on RBTV! Goodnight folks!