Darkness consumes the Gund Arena.
Uncomfortable echoes of silence bring audible coughs and the light of screens pointed towards the entrance.
Instead of the raucous overroar of “Ace of Spades”. The house lights begin to strobe in a non-linear and non-repeating pattern.
In the bastion of the astral abyss of silence, Lord Colossus steps out. Wearing a full length black cloak over his apocalyptic frame. His measured steps towards the ring bathed in ergodic epileptic light flashes, as cross-light is provided from flashes of cameras.
Stopping before the ring he drops the cloak to the floor. An endlessly scurrying ring attendant grabs the midnight black and twice his size garment.
Lord Colossus has around his neck a leather collar, on his hands fingerless leather gloves, and leather arm straps tied tightly with leather bands. In one hand he has a chain tightly held. As he grabs the top rope FROM THE FLOOR, the lights go glacial blue and white, as in two steps he is on the apron, over the top rope and standing in the ring, he moves to the middle of the ring and raises his chained fist to the sky.
As he does this a harsh blast of hideous feedback from Pulse Demon by Merzbow, as the lights drop back out…
After a moment of darkness the house lights flicker in the Gund Arena before buzzing themselves back into a more substantial existence. The air inside of the building is thick with lingering flash-blindness and a heightened sense of unease.
Something violent is about to get underway.
The fans are falling all over one another trying to be the first to their feet to roar approval at the Smoky Mountain Mastodon as he steps out into the entryway with a purpose and a length of galvanized steel chain. King Kong Frank, having likely spent the last several moments either slamming ‘shine or whipping himself up into a frenzy, sends the chain flying into a whirling calamity of spinning iron and raw Appalachian fury that has everyone within a twelve-foot radius more than a little nervous.
Howley: The hills are alive, Ross, but the sound of music ain’t what you’re hearing! You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down over here?
Ross: I mean… but… Sure, whatever. It’s fine. We’re… fine.
That wasn’t awkward, probably.
Howley: Are we having a moment?
Frank stomps down to the ring, eschewing his usual antics in favor of a death march toward Lord Colossus and everything that is about to go down. He savors the moment, cackling away like a maniac as he grabs the top rope and steps up onto the apron in one practiced, easy step.
Howley: Aw, here we go again with that nonsense!
Frank launches the chain at Lord Colossus, barely missing, then clears the top rope one leg at a time entering the ring. Much like last time they met, these behemoths can’t help but clash head-on, each man lobbing weapons-grade artillery at the other that would topple lesser opponents immediately if not sooner.
Moss: Frank is a man possessed!
Howley: With what, Ghost of Moonshine Past?
Howley: Not unless somebody PAYS ME~!
After a heated and extended exchange, Frank rares back and unleashes the straightest, most brutal headbutt that’s ever been thrown! The sound barrier is effortlessly snapped at the moment of impact and time slows to a dead standstill.
Howley: Didja hear that, Moss? Frank just cracked that mask!
The megalithic Lord Colossus staggers back before going down to a knee. Frank grins and retracts his chain and attacks Colossus with it, wrapping it around his fist and landing several more big shots to the wobbling giant. In a scary moment of lucidity Frank clips a heavy duty carbiner to the buckle of the Colossal Lord’s oversized leather collar.
KKF: HUSS! HUSS!! HOO-AHHHH!!!
Howley: That ain’t no “quick-release” job right there, Moss! You can better believe that’s some space-age military-grade tech right there that Frank’s got welded on the ends of that chain!
Frank wraps the other end of the chain around his own neck and clamps a carabiner onto place, snuggly attaching the two battlers together for the duration of the contest.
Moss: Referee Chip Newman makes it official, calling for the bell now that both men are properly accounted for and attached by the titular chain!
DING! DING!! DING!!!
Howley: Wish you weren’t so awkward, bud…
Lord Colossus is clearly cold, his bulk the only think keeping him anything resembling upright. Frank takes a step back and before giving birth to the sloppiest looking knee strike ever delivered, absolutely tattooing Colossus square in the face.
A chunk of thick white plastic flies errantly into the crowd, a closeup on Lord Colossus focuses on the mange of porous blond curls tufting out from behind the mask in a comical poof. Let’s call it a good thing that LC can’t see himself, there isn’t enough foulness in the cosmos that could fill that rage-ball should it ever be lit…
Moss: WOW! What a shot by King Kong Frank!
Howley: Yer tellin’ me?! King Kong Frank just gave Lord Colossus the most brutal King Kong Knee that I’ve ever seen a man take!
Frank dives on for a cover, Chip Newman dives into position…
Lord Colossus ain’t about that life, kicking out so emphatically that had Frank not been chained to him, he might have w////////////////ent up and over the top ropes and landed out in the bleachers somewhere. Colossus bellows as he makes his way up to his feet and plods toward Frank before the Hillbilly Hearthrob can make up any ground.
Moss: I’d say Lord Colossus is about to come unhinged.
Howley: About to? Have you ever seen our TV show?
Moss: [flat] It’s not syndicated where I live.
Howley: Move out of the sticks, man!
Colossus grabs Frank bodily and yanks him up and over but the Appalachian Nightmare struggles, giving even the massive master of the void fits and causing him to have to readjust and call an audible. Frank squirms around mostly upside down until with one more mighty heave Colossus gets him up about three stories high before dropping him down high on the back of his neck!
The air goes completely out of the room.
Moss: Oh my.
Howley: That was the worst Volt Thrower I’ve ever seen!
King Kong Frank lies crumpled into a mountain of rubble and Lord Colossus bellows an approving growl at his own craftiness and efficiency. With a heavy boot he forces Frank over onto his back where he keeps the boot planted and his weight on the fallen hillbilly.
Pfft, have you met Frank? He rolls a shoulder with a little bit of his own surliness and power. The gathered masses lose their minds, as is their way. Frank comes alive and gator-rolls out of the grasp of the apocalpyse in front of him.
Moss: That was a tense couple of seconds T-bird! I thought the worst there for a minute!
Howley: Nah, not this guy! You gotta put him unconscious or drop a zord on top of him to keep him down. The guy’s not wired just exactly the the right way, know what I mean?
Frank is up, wear and tear be damned, and the two go toe to toe in a chain-jangling massacre, the crowd is engaged and the gladiators in the ring are up to the job of entertaining them! Hands clap, feet stomp, and the fire of battle is blazing!
Moss: What’s it gonna take to put one of these two down, Thunderbird?
Howley: Nuclear winter?
The lights flicker.
Howley: WHAT THE HECK!
Moss: Who turned out the lights?
#The Ace of Spades#
And the Lord said, “let there be light.”
Howley: It’s WALT WHEZL?!
Moss: What’s he doing here? And who, or what, is that?
Flanking the worm-tongued Whezl are too equally extra-smedium lackey-looking types, both cosplaying Lord Colossus in the twinkiest way imaginable. Inside the ring, chaos resumes.
And the lights drop again, this time for less than a split-second before flashing back, blinding everyone simultaneously for the same split second. Whezl is now ringside, his two hench-men restrain Frank inside the ring as he finds out at the same time as everyone else that he’s facing the business end of a three-on-one streetfight!
Howley: What’s going on here?
But Frank isn’t one to be restrained, he rages against his captors and sends them both back but their grip on him remains as Colossus bellows and leaps into motion. At the last possible moment, Frank ducks himself and sends Lord Colossus backside over teakettle! He takes a hard tumble off of the ring apron and barely manages to keep his feet under him as he crashed back first into the barricade.
The commotion was all it took for Kong Kong Frank to redirect his fury toward the two sinewey, leather-clad grapplers at hand. With one mighty hand he lift-throws one of them across the ring into the corner turnbuckles. Reversing momentum he decapitates the other with a Lariat straight from back home on the mountain that uneasily and uncomfortably sent him toppling over and down onto his apparent lord and master, Lord Colossus.
Moss: What do you make of all this, Thunderbird?
Howley: I dunno, Moss, something squirrelly is going on if ya ask me, but I can’t quite put my thumb on it!
Frank marches over and grabs the other leather-clad agent of the void and picks him up just as easily as Colossus had lifted him earlier. The difference, though, was that there was no struggle and Frank got a head of steam by running across the ring launching him back-first over into the same gaping maw of nightmare material as his partner just met.
Enraged, Colossus sends his clone minions flying as he explodes himself back onto the field of battle. He steps right into another mind-altering headbutt from the Smoky Mountain Mastadon and another. The crowd rumbles and Frank throws another. And another. He grabs Colossus by the head and pulls him into a standing head-scissor.
KKF: HAH! HAH! HAH! YOU GON’ LEARN TODAY!
Frank stomps around like a madman, stamping his bare feet back and forth!
Moss: King Kong Frank has the massive frame of Lord Colossus upside down and helpless!
Frank drops him back down and wraps the chain around Colossus twice before leashing how own arms into the wrapped chain and pulling again, grunting as he got Colossus vertical. With a mighty roar Frank drops into a dangerous-looking piledriver!
At ringside Walt Whezl screeches.
King Kong Frank is spent, he crumples down to the mat and sucks wind like he’d been to Broadway and back in the last ten minutes.
Howley: I’m gonna be sick.
The instant replay focuses on the awkward position of Lord Colossus’s neck. It’s every bit as scary if not more than the outlandish attempt at a powerbomb just a few moments ago.
Moss: TOO MUCH!
Howley: I CAN’T EVEN!
Time passes, Frank sucks more wind.
Chip Newman starts up the double-count…
Frank tries to pull himself to his feet using the corner ropes to steady himself.
After a few stumbles, the Barefoot Brawler finally regains his barefooting. Get it? He shakes his head, praying for the cobwebs to let go and some sense of the drunken stupor that he normally thrives on would return. Don’t overthink it, just take the ride.
Lord Colossus’s head snaps to attention and then immediately snaps toward the hulking King Kong Frank standing above him.
Frank interrupts the ref’s count by attacking the rising Colossus. The Lord shakes it off and presses forward. Newman backs off and the two weary warriors once again start launching cruise missiles back and forth. In a Defiant rage, Lord Colossus reaches a massive, meaty hand at Frank. He catches hold to the chain and clamps down a death-grip and choke-lifts Frank up in the air before snatching him back downward, back-first over an extended tree truck-sized thigh and knee.
Howley: LORD COLOSSUS HAS BROKEN THE FRANK!
Colossus rides Frank down to the mat and exerts his infernal will over him. Ref Chip is in perfect position as us usual and he slaps the mat hard and true.
Moss: Not like this!
Howley: PUT A FORK IN HIM, MOSS!
DING! DING!! DING!!!
Colossus remains prone atop his spent victim.
At Ringside Walt Whezl shrieks in joy as his two minions stand at a distance, both only barely propping the other up to not be a pile of failure on the ground.
Moss: He’s killed King Kong Frank!
Howley: I didn’t think it was possible, Moss, even for this guy! This is great!
Inside the ring, Lord Colossus regains his towering composure and manages to somehow loom and lurch over the entire building and everyone in simultaneously. It’s noticeably weird, and people are generally uncomfortable with the scene that has unfolded in front of them.
Moss: Throw to something else! Anything! Somebody? ANYBODY?
Harold Robbins: The winner of the Chain Match by way of pinfall, LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORD COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!
The boo birds are ready, this is their finest hour, maybe even their reason for living. They came down on Lord Colossus like the torment of hellfire raining down from acid clouds in the sky.