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Join date : 2010-10-09
Location : London, England

PostSubject: CXA REUNION SHOW - PART 3   Fri Apr 01, 2011 1:05 pm

The cameras cut backstage, and to a large locker room in which are located none other than our All-American heroes, Homer and Reggie Cyde.

Reggie is still sporting the new look he debuted in the recent outdoor promo. His hair is now salt and pepper grey, and its matched by a new short haircut. If you think any show of grey hair makes Reggie look weak, think again. If anything, this new look makes him look even more intimidating than before. He’s lounging back in a chair, his black work boots resting on a radiator in front of him. He is dressed in his ring gear – black leather trousers and a white vest top bearing the Cyde MMA logo. He looks perfectly calm, and is slowly dragging a whetstone across a large hunting knife, bringing it back to sharpness. But the way he’s doing it shows you he’s actually focussing in, mentally preparing for the upcoming contest.

By contrast to his brother, Homer is full of energy. He is also dressed in his ring gear of white and black MMA shorts with the Cyde screaming eagle logo, and his usual red white and blue boots and kneepads. He’s sporting a vest top the same as his brother, perhaps a nod to the hardcore nature of the match and to offer him a bit more protection. Homer is stalking around the locker room, but then looks up, notices a metal beam across the ceiling, and leaps up to it, doing slow pull-ups. For all his flash and hype, Homer is a very well conditioned and solid wrestler. His muscles as he completes the exercises show he’s built for go, just as much as show, as his large shoulders and biceps flex. The shameless plugs and the Hollywood icon stuff are over now – its time to get serious.

He completes a few reps before Reggie slowly turns to him.

“Would you stop that?”

Homer holds himself in place

“Stop what?”

“The Jane Fonda routine. Just take it easy”

Homer drops back to the floor. “I just want to get out there and kick their asses like it’s the Boston Tea Party all over again, Reggie. I can’t wait to smash Joxide’s face into a hundred pieces, kick all the teeth out of that big mouth of his, rip his head off, and shoot hoops with it.”

Reggie puts the knife he’s holding back down on the radiator and swings his feet down.

“Don’t get over-eager brother. That boy isn’t as stupid as he looks”

Homer smiles “Well that wouldn’t be possible”

“What I mean is, he’s dangerous. We don’t underestimate anyone. We certainly don’t underestimate Orland Zacconi.”

Homer walks back over to Reggie “You aren’t worried about that guy are you?”

Reggie shakes his head “I’m not worried, no, but I’m cautious. I’m cautious because I know the type. I am the type. Joxide picked well, and if you fly out there all piss and vinegar, that gives them an advantage I’d rather they didn’t have”.

Homer considers this for a second. He then gets up and walks over to a locker, on which are pinned two pictures – one of Joxide and one of Orland. He eyes the pictures.

“Fair enough brother, we play it your way, but I want Joxide, because when this is over…”

Homer rears back and slams a fist into the locker, or more accurately into Joxide’s face. It dents the locker door by several inches. He turns back to Reggie.

“And as for Zacconi?”

Reggie moves in an instant, there’s a flash of metal, and suddenly we see the blade of the knife he was sharpening has imbedded itself in the locker room door – right through the middle of Zacconi’s face.

“Oh don’t worry” drawls Reggie “I’ve got him covered.”

The show goes to a merchandise commercial advertising the range of CXA and vintage CWA and TXA merchandise now available from the CXA website. As it comes back, the commentators, still buzzing from the events of the last match, go into shameless selling mode.

“Wow” comments Reynard “What a fantastic range of quality merchandise available there Maxine”

“Oh absolutely, some of that stuff is great” replies Mars “A chance to really own some of the classic t-shirts of the CWA. I love that Special Giznap one with the S logo”

“And Jason, the best of TXA DVD – some amazing matches on there”

Tarsh agrees, grabbing a copy which just happens to have been placed on the desk “TXA saw some incredible matches Robinson – even a few with me in – and every one on here is a 5 star classic. I just wi………..”

Jason Tarsh doesn’t get any further before a generic rock track fills the air and yellow and green lights begin to flash on the stage.

“What’s this?” He asks “Reynard, is this on your format?”

“Its not on mine” says Mars, checking the sheaf of paper and notes she has in front of her “I don’t know what’s going on!”

As if to answer their question, the ring announcer, who has been whispering with the timekeeper, takes up his microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have just been informed that the following contest is a special bonus challenge match.”

As he finishes speaking, a figure steps out onto the stage. The commentators strain to make out who it is. Tarsh squints into the distance.

“Who in the name of God is that?”

Reynard is staring at his monitor “Wait a second, I think I recognise him. Isn’t that?.....”

Maxine cuts across him, suddenly recognising the mystery figure

“Its STICK BOY!!!”

Sure enough, the legend that is Stick Boy has bounded onto the stage. Dressed in yellow and green shorts with his name across the back, green kneepads, and yellow shorts, he is his usual enthusiastic self as he bounds down the aisle and jumps into the ring.

Robinson is unimpressed “What a shame we can’t hear his entrance music over the awful sound of the bottom of barrels being scraped. Seriously, who booked this guy?”

“Hey” replies Maxine “The guy was a part of the TXA. He’s got as much right to be on the show as anyone. Besides, he’s looking good. I think he may have actually filled out a little”

“So what is he now then, branch boy?” Robinson quips.

Maxine obviously wants to support the underdog, and is trying to be enthusiastic

“Boy Robinson, Stick Boy getting such a great pop here!”

Both Tarsh and Reynard look at her, because the crowd are pretty much silent. Robinson waves a hand in front of her face

“Are you on crack? You could hear a pin drop in this place!”

Tarsh agrees

“You aren’t kidding Reynard. He’s about as popular as rabies in a guide dog’s home! You could hold his fanclub meetings in a phone box.

Maxine is having none of it

“You guys are just mean. I happen to know Stick Boy has been doing OK for himself on the indy circuit, and he wants to show it here. If he can get a win here, he might finally get some respect.”

Reynard laughs

“Yeah Maxine, and I might win American Idol this year”

Stick Boy has grabbed a microphone, and steps forward to address the crowd. Maxine’s right that he’s put on a little weight and definition. He might go 165lbs-170lbs now, but he’s never going to trouble the heavyweight division, and his voice is still boyish as he speaks

“Hello everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Stick Boy. When the TXA was operating, I was the guy who regular got his ass kicked in this ring week after week. I never stopped trying, but I basically lost to all the top names you will see here tonight. Awesome, Shand, Fox, The Gimmick Guys, Absolute Zero, The Cydes, I took a fall to all of them. But you know, times change, and its been a while since the TXA was around. In that time I’ve been wrestling and I’ve been learning, and right here tonight at CXA Reunion, its time for the Sticky one….”

“Did he just call himself the Sticky one, Reynard?”

“Don’t even go there Jason”

Stick Boy continues

“…to show you what he is all about. So right here, right now, on this grand stage, I am issuing a challenge. I want to invite ANY former CWA or TXA star to come down that aisle and take me on one on one. I don’t care who it is. I will prove myself to anyone who wants to take the challenge”

Tarsh is incredulous “Is he insane? There are monsters backstage who would kill this kid!”

“Jason” comments “Reynard, there and people here selling ice cream that would kill this boy”

The crowd turn to the ring, waiting for the person who will accept the challenge.

Suddenly very familiar music starts to swell from the speakers, and on stage flame jets leap up into the air. The crowd know who this means, and there is an expectant “ooooohh” that rushes around the ring at the destruction about to be handed out.

“Oh no!!!” cries Maxine “Not him, God not him!”

But her worst fears are realized a mere couple of seconds later as the enormous figure of one half of Hell’s Guardians, Dominus walks onto stage. His bright white hair glinting in the light and his penetrating blue eyes staring out at the audience, the 6’10” Dominus cuts an awesome figure. He flexes his shoulders on stage, his thick tribal tattoos shifting under his impressive muscles.

Robinson watches Dominus walk onto the stage, and then reaches inside his jacket for his mobile phone. Maxine turns to him

“Who are you calling?”

“Interflora – I want to order some flowers for this kid’s funeral”

The cameras zoom in on Dominus and as it gets close he suddenly grabs it. Looking directly into the lense he says “Hell follows with me”

With that Dominus releases the camera and stalks down the aisle. He steps into the ring and stands looking at Stick Boy. Just waiting for the ring bell and his chance to explode.

Which he promptly gets. However, its not Dominus that get the early start, its Stick Boy. He is across the ring in nano-seconds and fires in a stiff boot to the mid section, followed by a series of stinging right hands to the jaw. Caught by surprise that Stick Boy is the aggressor, more than actually hurt, Dominus nonetheless is driven back against the ropes, where Stick Boy somehow hammers him into the opposing strands with an Irish whip. As Dominus comes back he is met with a spinning leg lariat, which knocks him to the canvas.

“Wow, Jason this is not what I expected !!

“Me either Reynard”

Maxine is overjoyed

“Excellent! Dominus not being able to get out of the blocks so far in this encounter”

Stick Boy is not wasting any time. With Dominus down he runs to the ropes and hits a perfect springboard splash on the much larger man, and then follows that with knee to the face. Pulling Dominus to his knees, he hits a short enziguri.

Tarsh is stunned “I can’t believe this!”

Neither, it seems, can Stick Boy. He looks surprised himself that things are going so well, but he isn’t about to waste the chance. He grabs Dominus and locks his head between his legs. Using a frankly ludicrous amount of effort to lift the larger man, Stick Boy strains but manages to get the enormous man half up and drops him on his head in an ugly and sloppy piledriver. He then springs up to celebrate, gesturing to the crowd…..

….which is a pity. It’s a pity because he’s not looking at his opponent. If he was, he’d have seen that a second after he sprung up, so did Dominus !

“He gets straight back up !! Jason, that’s amazing”

Stick Boy now turns and looks down, fully expecting to see the prone carcass of his opponent on the mat. What he sees instead is a large pair of boots, and what he swiftly feels is a forearm crashing across the top of his head like a sledgehammer. He collapses to the canvas, where Dominus drops four more kicks that keep him down before leaping high into the air and driving a double knee drop down between his shoulder blades. From there, Dominus sits on his opponent’s back, drags his arms back, and locks on a chin-lock, applying tremendous pressure to his neck with a camel clutch.

Dominus doesn’t want a submission though, so he gets off. Lifting Stick Boy he scoops him right up across his shoulders and delivers an awesome Death Valley Driver.

Reyanrd smiles “And now normal service is resumed”

Clearly, Dominus could make the pin any time he wants, but he wants to make a point. Hooking Stick Boy up in a butterfly position, he takes him over in a textbook suplex. He then lifts him again and goes for a more traditional form of suplex. However, Stick Boy isn’t dead. Incredibly, he reverses the move at the apex and glides out backwards. Stick Boy hammers in a clothesline to Dominus’ back, and manages to land a less than perfect dropkick to stagger the bigger man forward. Dominus is sent into the ropes and, stumbling, falls through them to the outside.

Stick Boy is still groggy from the attack, but knows he needs to maintain momentum. He ducks through the ropes and sees Dominus getting up. Stepping to the second rope, he uses the spring to power his legs up and back and attempts to vadersplash his rising opponent on the outside.

Unfortunately for Stick Boy, Dominus isn’t really stunned. He catches the falling Stick Boy on his shoulder, and in dead run, spears him head first into the metal ringpost. The sickening crack causes winces in the audience, and causes Stick Boy to collapse on the surrounding ring mats.

Maxine screams in shock, clearly worried about the fate of the Sticky One

“OH MY GOD !! Jason, what a sickening sound Stick Boy’s head made”

“Kind of an empty clunk wasn’t it? Not a lot in there to get damaged”

The referee is starting the count, but Dominus doesn’t actually care about that. This match is about making a statement, not about beating some jobber. He hauls the now totally out of it Stick Boy to his feet and hammers him into the guard rail near the entrance. Stick Boy is flying by the time he hits, and leaves a large dent in the metal.

Robinson Reynard is clearly enjoying the spectacle

“Oh man !! What impact ! This is brutal Tarsh, I love it !”

Dominus has backed off slightly, and Stick Boy somehow drags himself to his feet. He stumbles and stands unsteadily at the foot of the rampway. Dominus sees his chance. He runs full pelt at Stick Boy and crashes into him with a big boot to the face that absolutely rearranges Stick Boy’s teeth.

Maxine has seen enough

“Sweet Lord. Someone stop the match, that’s enough”

“It is stopped Maxine, the referee counted both these guys out some time ago. This is just extra curricular activity !!” advises Reynard

“But he’s going to kill him!!”

“Hey, you wanted Stick Boy to earn some respect – he just earned a draw against Dominus. That’s good going. Ha ha ha”

Stick Boy has been dragged to his feet and is being pummeled up the entrance ramp and onto the stage, each blow staggering him back. As he reaches the top of the ramp, Dominus suddenly reaches out, clasps his hand around Stick Boy’s throat, and smashes him into the metal in a short chokeslam. While there is not a lot of height, the suddenness and violence of the move still means the crack of skull on metal echoes around the arena.

“My God, Jason. Did you just hear Stick Boy’s skull bounce of that metal. How much more can he take?”

“Reynard, that’s a real shame”

“That Stick Boy is being mauled like this ?”

“No, that we’ve dented a perfectly good ramp on this idiot !”

Stick Boy is down, and for all intents and purposes, out. Dominus stands over him and a not too pleasant smile spreads across his face

Maxine is now panicked

“What’s he smiling for?”

Tarsh turns to her

“Lets put it this way. I hope they kept a bed spare in the ICU unit. We might need it !”

Stick Boy is dragged off the floor by Dominus and set up centre stage. He bends Stick Boy forward and locks his head between his thighs. Dominus points with his right hand….directly off the side of the stage !

“Reynard, he’s not thinking….???”

“Oh my Lord, Jason”

The commentator’s fears are well founded. Dominus now locks in a double underhook and manhandles Stick Boy into the air. Steadying himself, he starts a dead run toward the edge of stage, and as he gets near, suddenly throws Stick Boy up and forward. Its not quite a full Satan Driver as Dominus stops himself just before the edge…

Pity Stick Boy couldn’t. He sails forward into thin air, and then crashes down from the stage. Luckily for him, two tables set up below for the tech crew absorb at least some of the impact, and after the enormous crash subsides, Stick Boy is left sprawled in a mess of shattered wood !

“Damn, that was impressive Reynard !”

Maxine can’t believe it

“Impressive!! Impressive!! He might be dead!!”

Reynard considers this for a moment. “Could be……..So, what’s next?”

But before anyone can worry about that, another figure springs onto the stage and bundles into Dominus, fists flying!

“Wait a second” screams Maxine “That’s Shane Hunt!!!!”

“Hunt?” answers Tarsh “What the bloody hell is he doing here?”

“Kicking Dominus’ ass it looks like”

Sure enough, Shane Hunt, bedecked in jeans and his iconic “Wolves of the Hunt” t-shirt has bundled Dominus to the ground and is pounding him with a flurry of punches.

Unprepared for the attack, Dominus is having to cover up, but slowly he manages to get away from the attacks and make it back to his feet, where can throw some bombs back. Shane Hunt is a big man, but Dominus has the size advantage, and he starts to push Shane back toward the walls that make up the castle set. Swapping tactics, rather than landing a punch, Dominus shoves Shane back, looking to get some distance between them. He then tries to come in with his trademark big boot. However, Shane was expecting that and he catches the leg, pulling Dominus back to the ground with a wicked leg whip. Grabbing his opponent, Shane hauls Dominus up and sends him crashing to the metal stage in an enormous body slam.

Shane isn’t content though, and he goes back to hammering Dominus. However, he isn’t watching his back, and he’s forgotten that this is an open party. As he goes to throw a punch, Shane Hunt is suddenly blindsided by steel chair crashing into his back. He is sent sprawling on the stage.

The steel chair is being swung by none other than Jason.

“That’s Jason!!” cries Maxine “Dominus’ tag team partner. Both of Hells Guardians are here together!”

“That spells trouble for Shane Hunt” comments Tarsh “These two are an awesome tag team. Hunt might regret sticking his nose into their business”

It certainly seems like Tarsh is right, as Jason has helped Dominus back to his feet, and they have both turned their attention to Shane. They drag him to his feet, and Dominus gestures to Jason, who smiles an evil grin and nods.

“What are they doing Robinson?”

“Wait a second, that gesture. He’s calling for Jason to hit Sacrifice!!”

“Jason’s patented variation on the Vertebreaker? If he hits that on the stage he’ll break Shane Hunt’s neck!!”

That seems to be pretty much what Hells Guardians have in mind. Jason gets himself into position, and Dominus hauls Shane across. Jason locks himself into the hold as Dominus looks on approvingly.

However, before he has a chance to execute the move, a new gatecrasher arrives on the scene. Flying onto the stage in a frenzy, Paul James sprints across and lands a picture perfect kick right into Jason’s face. Jason releases Hunt and collapses to the floor.

“Paul James??? Jesus the way this is going the whole locker room is going to be out here in a minute!”

“That was always the great thing about TXA and CWA though Jason – anything could and usually did happen. Look at James go!”

Enraged at the attack on his tag team partner, Dominus steps forward and attempts to cut down the interloper with a murderous clothesline. However, Paul ducks under it. He grabs the chair that Jason dropped and as Dominus turns, Paul throws it full force into his face. The blow staggers the big man and for a moment he forgets about his attack.

Meanwhile, Shane has made it back to his feet. He grabs Jason, hooks him around the waist, and hits a hard gutwrench suplex onto the stage. He then backs off to stand side by side with Paul, and the two of them call Hells Guardians on.

Across the stage, Dominus looks like he might just be ready to take them up on the offer, but then he looks at Jason, and the fact that Paul has grabbed back the steel chair and is still brandishing it, and decides discretion may be the better part of valour. Instead he grabs Jason and hauls him to his feet, and then turns and backs toward the entrance, retreating to the backstage area.

“Hey!” yells Maxine “Come back and fight!!”

“Hells Guardians will be ready for a fight, but on another day when they haven’t been sneak attacked and their opponent isn’t armed with a chair” comments Reynard.

Paul James and Shane Hunt have watched Hells Guardians retreat. Now they turn to face each other. James extends a hand, and after a second or so’s hesitation, Shane accepts and they shake.

Back to our commentary team, and Reynard is holding up the slightly battered 2/4 trophy.

“You know, this could turn out quite the evening for me. I mean, £25,000 is not to be sniffed at. Say, Maxine, mon-cherie, when this PPV is over and I’ve got the money in my pocket, why don’t we go out and get a drink or two?”

“Are you serious?” Maxine asks

“Yes, why not”

Maxine bursts into a fit of giggles, unable to contain herself.

The cameras cut to the backstage area. We see Chio Reto wrapping blue tape across his wrists and forearms in preparation for his upcoming match. This is the last piece of his costume that he has to don; his new wrestling gear; now long tights in lieu of a singlet and a black bandanna wrapped underneath his lengthy blue-dyed locks. He appears to be whispering to himself, repeating some form of mantra to get himself into the right mindset.
As he continues his concentrated efforts, a new figure appears. It’s the Cyberstar, Vampire and Prince himself, My-Ron Novaar. His eyes fall upon the seated Reto, who continues his wrapping as though he’s not even there.
“My-Ron,” Chio greets him without looking up, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your match?”
“I’ve been ready for a while,” the Draconix Prince replies coolly, “It doesn’t take that long to... how did you put it again? ‘Tart myself up in a fancy costume’.”
Chio can’t help but permit himself a grin, and looks up at the former Myron Fox, “Hey, I call it like I see it.”
“I’m assuming you stand by your comments at the press conference,” My-Ron raises an eyebrow, “Just as I do mine. Much as - at the moment - I am loathe to agree with anything the man says, I agree with Shand; you really can’t win out there, Reto. That much I must wholeheartedly agree with.”
“Ah, well cheers for the pep talk,” Chio shakes his head, and gives My-Ron a look, “I suppose it’s only fair that I remind you that you can’t possibly beat Rob Arnold tonight.”
“Yes, I remember you saying that before,” My-Ron offers a thin smile, “Contrary to your belief, Mr. Reto, I can and will see through my plan against your supposed ‘Innovator’ of a friend. It is what I must do, and so I shall. No words will change that outcome.”
“Pretty rich, coming from the man who’s had no shortage of words to spew the past few months,” Reto narrows his eyes, “I’ll believe it when I see it, My-Ron. You’ve certainly tried to wow people with your fancy vignettes and shows, but I need to see some action from you now. I hope you’ll be willing to show me some. Providing of course you don’t get another flash of inspiration mid-match and decide to become a mime or something.”
My-Ron chuckles humourlessly at that comment, “I think it should be quite clear that I’m far too verbose to be a mime. In all seriousness, I can assure you that there will be plenty of action from me. This is my grand exhibition, after all; my Crucifixion match. I shall take great pleasure in humiliating that disrespectful Arnold tonight.”
Reto simply smiles right back at him, “Alright then. Prove me wrong out there. I look forward to it.”
“I’m not here to discuss my match though, Reto,” it’s My-Ron’s turn to narrow his eyes,

“There’s an important matter I need mention to you.”
Reto widens his eyes in feigned surprise, “You mean there’s actually something more important than the business of My-Ron Novaar? I’m astounded!”
“I mean it,” My-Ron replies stiffly, “It’s about tonight. You cannot win, not against David Shand.”
“You already said that,” Chio butts in, his amusement waning.
“Yes, but you have to understand. When I say that, I don’t mean against the David Shand YOU know.”
“What are you talking about?”
My-Ron sighs deeply, “There is more to the man we both once called our friend. A whole other person, you might say. I’m afraid that you’re stepping into the ring with a far more monstrous creature.”
“If you mean that David won’t show mercy even with our friendship, I already know that,” Chio insists, “And I expect nothing less of him.”
“It’s not that. You don’t appear to understand. That man HAS no friends. You have never been his friend, and you never will be. David Shand has showed his true colours recently. If you don’t believe me, ask his brother. His face would tell you the whole story.”
Chio looks puzzled, “What are you trying to say here?”
“Tonight you seek the glory you missed throughout your career. I did not really consider you capable of achieving it before, although I allowed for the freakish outcome we all know occurs on occasion. But now?,” My-Ron shakes his head, “Now you’ve no chance whatsoever. The Reaper is free.”
Chio sits back and sighs, “My-Ron, I think it’s time to come back to Planet Earth.”
My-Ron simply glares at Chio before continuing, “I’m on planet Earth Chio. Whereas you, you are below me right now at the gates of Hell. Seriously - Chris - do not participate in that match. You will not be able to handle it; you haven’t got what it takes.”
“You cannot beat him; I doubt you would even be able to survive. Forget about the match and move on with your life.”
“Not going to happen,” Chio almost snarls at My-Ron, “This is what I need. Tonight, I go out there and I prove myself. This is what I’ve been working so hard for. You can’t discourage me; nobody can. Not even the Soul Reaper himself. Tonight, I will win. I’ll show everyone that I can. I need to be on the top, even if for one night only, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
My-Ron shrugs his shoulders, “Fine, and I understand, because I’ve stood across the ring from his myself. Don’t say I never tried to warn you. If you absolutely must do it, remember this.”
“Remember what?”
“You must be prepared for anything, prepared to DO anything, be anything. But when its over...” he takes a breath, “After this you will never be the same, win or lose,” he turns around, and is about to leave, “Trust me, I know.”
With that, My-Ron Novaar walks away, leaving Chio Reto to mull over his words.

I'm not climbing to the top of the mountain. I am the damn mountain!
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