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The crowd was going insane as they cheered on Kara. Wracked in pain, she clawed her way over to her corner where her brother was waiting. Arm outstretched, Kronin was reaching to give his sister the relief she needed so she could make the tag, but she was too far away. Vision blurry, she reached out, and her arm slumped as she lost her strength. With her arms, she crawled a little more and reached again. Kronin nearly hopped over the top rope to make contact when unexpectedly, he was pulled off the apron.
Scott Slade: It's Dillinger! He snuck across the ring to pull Kronin off the apron and keep Kara from making the tag!
Chris Rodgers: Oh, thank God!
Kronin was angry and approaching Dillinger as the referee slid outside to separate them. He pushed Dillinger back and told him to get to his corner when Kronin nudged him from behind. The referee spun around to yell at Kronin as well, much to the German's surprise.
Scott Slade: Referee Bob Sigro is doing his best to instill some law and order, but Kronin better focuses on what's going on in the ring!
Chris Rodgers: Whatever momentum the frau might have had just now is gone as Johnny Rage is back up and laying hard shots into Kara.
Rage hit a European uppercut that sent Kara back into the corner where Dillinger had gotten back to his spot on the apron. Rage moved to the body and hit a body slam before tagging Dillinger in. Eric hoped over the top rope and hit an elbow drop. He hooked the leg and went for a pin, earning only one count. Dillinger stood up and tagged Rage in again. Eric said something to Rage as he hooked Kara's near limp body from behind around the waist. Rage took a step back before charging in with a big boot, but Kara slipped out of Dillinger's grasp. Rage planted a boot into Dillinger's face and taking him out in the process by error.
Scott Slade: Malfunction at the junction!
Kara dropped into the corner behind her as an enraged Johnny Rage lunged at her. She ducked underneath him, rolled, and dove making the hot tag! Kronin sprung into the ring as the crowd erupted!
Chris Rodgers: No! Stop him! Disqualify him!
Scott Slade: Kronin with the back body drop on Johnny Rage and a clothesline to Eric Dillinger! Look at him go!
An energized Kronin shoulder tackled Johnny Rage into the corner and started throwing in deep shoulder blocks. The crowd was going crazy when Eric Dillinger came running, but Kronin moved just in time. Dillinger splashed his teammate on accident, giving Kronin time to spin him around. The great kraut immediately began raining right, hands down on Dillinger before pulling him out of the corner and whipping him into the ropes. Kronin caught him on his way back with a black hole slam, annihilating the rookie wrestler.
Scott Slade: Beautiful Disaster! And he's not done!
Dillinger rolled out of the ring as Rage charged in with a clothesline. Kronin ducked and caught Rage around the waist and hit a German Suplex putting the grizzled veteran out of commission.
Scott Slade: The first of many Death by Suplex!
Kronin rolled over and pulled the big man to his feet to hit another super German Suplex. He rolled over to his side and was on top of Rage as he squatted over his body, still with the rear waist lock cinched in. He pulled Rage up to his knees and deadlifted the big man into another German Suplex. Kronin rolled again and pulled Rage up again, but the seven-footer began to fight out with back elbows. Kronin released the hold, and Rage went to hit the ropes, but Kronin grabbed him by the back of his trousers, pulled him back toward him, and hit another German Suplex before covering him.
Chris Rodgers: One! Two Thr—No!
Scott Slade: Rage barely getting the shoulder up as the German Suplex Machine goes on the rampage! Where has this been lately? Kronin lighting a fire inside himself! Taking None More Back to task!
Chris Rodgers: He's probably juicing! That's the only thing that could explain this!
Rage got the shoulder up just in the nick of time, prompting Kronin to get up and begin stomping on him. Rage fought with hands and knees to get back to his feet as he tried to cover up a flurry of strikes from Kronin. Rage was backed again into a corner when Kronin hit a back elbow that rocked him. Rage stumbled out of the corner and fell flat on his face onto the mat. The seven-footer's tall frame put him within reach of his corner, and he barely manages to tag in Dillinger as he fell.
Chris Rodgers: Thank God. Get in there, kid, and put a stop to this!
Scott Slade: Dillinger mentioned before the match his respect for him as both men served in their respective militaries. However, the respect stops there. Dillinger is hungry and ready to prove himself against the veteran wrestler.
Chris Rodgers: Who cares about all that? If Dillinger wants to make a name for himself, he had better stop the man who's single-handedly turning the tide of this match!
The two of them circled up before locking up in the center of the ring. Dillinger quickly moved behind Kronin, but the German reversed it. Kronin locked in a rear waist lock, but Dillinger used his momentum to roll forward and take Kronin over with him. Eric locked in a heel hook in the process and immediately began applying pressure. Kronin slipped out of it with a kick to the face and got to his feet. He placed a shot across Dillinger's back and put him in standing head scissors. He then lifted Dillinger into the Metal Meltdown.
Scott Slade: Kronin's going to finish th—No! Dillinger slips out!
Chris Rodgers: Thank God!
Dillinger fell behind Kronin, trapped one arm, spun him out, and hit the rip-chord knee strike. Kronin was stunned as Dillinger charged in and nailing him with shotgun knees that sent him into the turnbuckles. Eric got up and put his hands up to mock the crowd in attendance as if to ask them to rain down boos on him. Happy with himself, he came eye to eye with Kronin and grabbed him by the back of the hair with his left hand. He slapped Kronin across the face so hard it leaves a red mark on his face with his right. Incensed, Kronin quickly changed places with Dillinger and started unleashing massive haymakers.
Chris Rodgers: Rookie mistake by Eric Dillinger. Never give a kraut a reason to lose his temper.
Kronin hit a gutshot and put Dillinger on the top turnbuckle. He climbed up with him and set him up for a superplex. Rage quickly re-entered the ring and nailed Kronin across the back. He then climbed up to the middle rope hooking Kronin around the waist. However, before Rage could hit a back body drop, Kara, who'd recovered from her earlier assault and entered the ring. She landed a hard kick to Rage's knee and got underneath him. With one mighty heave, Dillinger was superplexed off the middle turnbuckle by Kronin, who took a back body drop from Rage, who received a powerbomb from Kara. Dillinger smacked the ring mat and popped up and fell through the middle ropes to the outside as the fans began chanting "holy shit."
Scott Slade: There are literal bodies around the ring as Dillinger seemingly got the worst of that exchange! It was like a totem pole collapsing to the ground! I've never seen anything like that in all my years covering this sport!
Chris Rodgers: Call in the National Guard; the German's are invading!
Kara pushed Rage out of the ring and moved to her brother, shaking him back to life. On the outside, Rage was beginning to stir, and Kara noticed it. Leaving Kronin in the middle of the ring, she dove over the ropes and hit a flying plancha. Rage caught her, however, much to Kronin's dismay. He quickly got up and dove through the ropes, and hit Rage in the midsection with an insane spear. Kara rolled off the bodies and slid back into the ring, moving up to the top rope. Kronin looked on as he watched her ascend.
Scott Slade: Kronin watching his sister go up top. What has she got in mind?
Chris Rodgers: Hopefully, she slips, and we don't have to worry about what she's got in mind!
Scott Slade: Oh no! There's Dillinger behind Kronin!
Dillinger cinched around Kronin's waist and lifted him to drive him onto the outside mats with a Saito suplex! Kara changed trajectory and dove at Dillinger, but he moved out the way at the last second. Kara hits the floor full force and is motionless upon impact. There was an audible gasp from the crowd at the carnage they've just witnessed. A few seconds after the impact, they all settle into an array of cheers and boos. A weakened Kronin struggled to get to his feet, but Dillinger hits a pump knee strike that sends him back down. Dillinger went back to Rage and got him up onto his feet. N.M.B. moved in on Kronin and threw him into the ring. Dillinger climbed in and tagged Rage into the match. Kronin received a boot to the gut from Rage and a forearm strike to the back of his head. Rage put him in a standing head, scissors as the fans looked on, booing Johnny as hard as they possibly could.
Chris Rodgers: They call this the Bloodclot! This is going to be it!
Rage picked up Kronin in a powerbomb as Dillinger flew off the top rope, hitting a leg drop. Kronin crushed into the mat upon impact; allowed Rage to fold him up into a cover.
Bob Sigro: O.N.E.! T.W.O.! THREE!
The crowd booed as the None More Blacks music started to play. Rage sat up on the mat, exhausted and smiling. Dillinger, meanwhile, jumped to the middle ropes with his arms raised. He was loving every moment of absorbing the negative energy emanating from the crowd.
Chris Rodgers: They've done it! None More Black has knocked off ze Germans in a lop-sided victory!
Scott Slade: That was hardly lop-sided. N.M.B.'s teamwork shone through, but the Reinhardts didn't go down without a fight.
Chris Rodgers: That's not what the video package will say when they pull audio from this match. Anyway, None More Black are your winners tonight, ladies and gentlemen.
Dillinger was in the ring, calling for a mic. One of the ring crew obliged. Dillinger slapped the mic a few times before speaking into it. The fans by this time were so pissed at them they'd begun throwing food and drinks into the wrestling ring, trying as hard as they could to hit one of them with a soda or a hotdog.
Eric Dillinger: Y'all saw it. Y'all all saw it! None More Black in our first real tag team match, our first victory. No one around to drag us down, no one to hold us back! All the tag teams and any singles competitors thinking about getting together are on notice from here on out! If you think about what we did to Kronin and Kara… Kara? Is it Kara or Kara? Anyway, if you think that was bad, then you have no idea what's in store for the rest of you. That said, eat a dick, everyone! You've been terrible; I hate you all! Good night!
Dillinger spiked the microphone before bowing out of the ring through the middle ropes. Rage, laughing, followed him out of the ring and up the entranceway.
Hank Sokolov and THNG stood next to Dasha Ivanova and Boris Drago near the makeshift stage curtain that led out of the dugout and onto the baseball diamond. The Russian team was all geared up and dressed for action for their big title shot for the Tag Team Championship. Hank had a big smile on his face after his second straight victory and was in the process of giving his Russian comrades some tips and pointers that they could use against LuLu and Huckleberry.
Hank: Remember, comrades! Don't get locked into any grapples with the fat one! Trying to move him is like trying to move a mountain. Blow him up with powerful strikes! Once he's on the mat, he's useless!
Boris: Dah, comrade Boris. We went over this multiple times in our training sessions. I understand the plan of attack.
Dasha: Perhaps comrade Sokolov wouldn't be so concerned if it wasn't for your stubborn pride, Boris. Sometimes it's better to use your brain than your brawn. Thankfully that's what you have me for, Dah?
Boris seemed frustrated by Dasha's comments. He'd been underperforming, and her high expectations were beginning to really grind his gears. The two were as tight as two teammates could be without sleeping with one another, but as in every long-term relationship, there was bound to be the occasional spat.
Hank: Dasha, Boris is ready. Trust me, the two of you will be flying back to Mexico with both golden straps on your shoulders. Every Russian's lips will be speaking your names come Monday morning. Just keep focused and whenever the skinny hillbilly enter's the ring, try to keep him from tagging out.
Boris and Dasha nodded and then turned around just as their music began to play. As soon they were through the stage curtain, a loud guttural roar grabbed Sokolov's attention. The sound had come from Chulun Bold, who'd escaped from Dr. Drakes's medical office and was wielding a steel chair. The Mongolian cracked Hank over the head just as he'd turned around and busted his forehead wide open. The Russian collapsed to the ground, entirely disoriented by the blow to his head.
Word of the attack had reached the show's producer, and the live feed cut to Bold standing over Boris breathing heavily. He then cocked back the steel chair and prepared to clobber Hank again, but before he could swing the chair downward, THNG ripped it out of his hands and tossed it away. She then jumped onto his back, hellbent on making Bold pay for his transgressions. Bold struggled to shake the strange vampire off of him but was unable to as she sunk her long fingernails into his chest and bit into his neck, and began feeding on the Monoglions blood.
Scott Slade: There's been an attack backstage! Chuluun Bold just jumped Hank Sokolov, and THNG is all over the back of him!
Chris Rodgers: He's paying for it now! That crazy bitch of Sokolov's is bitting into his jugular with those gnarly teeth of hers! Lord only knows what kind of diseases she's got!
With his jugular halfway torn out, Chuluun reached back and grabbed THNG by her long black ponytail and used all of his strength to whip her down on top of Hank. Blood gushed from Bold's neck and splattered onto the floor as he tried to apply pressure to the wound. The extreme depravity of the attack forced the producer to cut away back to the ring where Rose Johnston was about to announce Sokolov's compatriots to the fans. The security and medical team's rushed out to separate THNG and Bold and try to help Chuluun, who was on the verge of blacking out from blood loss.
Chris Rodgers: Good God, all mighty! Where in the hell does Allen Anderson find these freak shows? Bold is going to be lucky to survive that attack from that... that... disgusting thing!
Scott Slade: Serves him right for trying to exact revenge on Sokolov. He had no right to attack him. Hank beat him fair and square earlier tonight!
Chris Rodgers: I can't argue with that logic, Slade. Anyway, I think the Tag Team match looks as if it's about to start.
Rose Johnston was already standing in the ring when the live feed cut from the mess backstage. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight was placed on the former Miss America as she began to announce the start of the most important match of the evening.
Rose Johnston: The following match is set for one fall and is for the Ultimate Wrestling Tag Team Championship! Making their way to the ring first, the challengers from Moscow, Russia! Weighing in at a combined weight of 530 pounds, they are former Tag Team Champion's Boris Drago and Dasha Ivanova!!!
Boris walked out with Dasha onto the stage as "Sgori" by Strove started to play. The Cuban fans erupted in cheers and jubilation as the two proud Russians made their way down the aisle, uncharacteristically slapping high fives with the fans. The massive Boris had on a similar Olympic wrestling style singlet like the one worn by Hank Sokolov earlier. Dasha had on her military boots and her military-inspired wrestling costume, complete with her actual Russian standard-issue military cap.
Scott Slade: The Russian's seem to have regrouped after a rough couple of months. They've recruited the undefeated Sokolov into their fold and earned the right to face Huckleberry and Biggs tonight.
Chris Rodgers: They've got a shot to reclaim their belts here, and this is like a home-field advantage for them. They have the full support of these heathenesses Commi Cubano's in the bleachers.
As the two fan favorites made their way to the ring, their music was cut abruptly. The cameras cut back to the stage as "Old Town Road" by Lil Nas X, and Billy Ray Cyrus started to play over the speaker system. LuLu Biggs and Huckleberry jumped out from behind the curtain and began to dance with a slew of scantily dressed Latin women who'd slowly followed out after them. The Cuban fans booed the Americans unrelentingly, unamused by what they viewed as a six hundred pound glutton and dumbass American hillbilly.
Even though LuLu and Huckleberry weren't trying to make them angry, their sheer flamboyance and womanizing annoyed them profusely. It re-emphasized the stereotypes they'd formed from watching reruns of old American syndicated television shows like Miami Vice. LuLu had on a pink velvet and white fur robe, much like Rick Flair would wear under his bright yellow and black wrestling singlet. In his right hand, he masterfully twirled his gold pimp cane showing off for the cameras. The Franchise Champion had on his usual corny-looking flame decal wrestling singlet and had his long dirty blond hair slicked back. The little Appalachain looked ready for a fight as he confidently caressed both of his gold title belts on his way down to the ring.
Rose Johnston: Their opponents! The current Ultimate Wrestling Tag Team Champions! Hailing from the good old U.S. of A! Weighing in at a combined 749 pounds, LuLu Biggs and the Franchise Champion!! HUCKLEBERRY!!!
Scott Slade: LuLu and Huckleberry have been on a roll lately. They defeated Evolution and Metamorphosis to win the gold title belts. They defended them successfully in a tough four-way tag-team match against The Ultra Powers, The Young Guns, and the Russians they're about to face here tonight once again.
Chris Rodgers: I think when these two got together to form this team, most people wrote them off. However, they've proven to be quite the duo together.
Scott Slade: Well, we'll see if they can continue their title run here against Dasha and Boris. Dasha told me Boris has been training hard with Hank Sokolov for this match.
Chris Rodgers: Hah! We'll see about that... never trust a Russian. For all, we know Boris has been eating donuts all week.
Once at ringside, LuLu's ho's gathered by the guard rail near the fans in the front row. Huckleberry handed Referee Bob Sigro his Tag Team Belt before unstrapping his massive Franchise Championship belt and handing it over to him as well for safekeeping. Biggs also tossed over his belt to the referee. Sigro held up both tag team belts high in the air and then handed all the gold to Rose Johnston, who quickly got out of the ring. The champions decided LuLu would start the match for them. Ivanova quickly surmised that Boris Drago was the obvious choice for team Russia to combat his Sumo style, weight, and power.
Chris Rodgers: Here we go!
Scott Slade: This has all the makings of a classic!
The massive Russian and the girthy pimp stared at one another until Sigro signaled to the bellman. As soon as the bell rang, the two giants sprinted toward one another and collided. The two bounced off one another after the enormous impact and then immediately locked up in a grapple. LuLu forced Boris to break the scuffle by stomping on his foot. A loud crunch was heard by everyone in the arena, followed by Borris screaming from the pain of having multiple toes broken.
LuLu then followed up the unsporting foot stomp with a series of powerful Kesagiri chops that backed Boris up against the northeast corner turnbuckle. Biggs then kicked Boris in the gut and nailed him in the throat with a mega sword thrust. He then grabbed hold of the Russian brute, lifted him impressively into the air, and slammed him down on his knee for an inverted atomic drop. The fans booed Biggs heavily as he began to celebrate his impressive start cupping his ear, pretending he couldn't hear any of them. Boris held his groin area and fell to his knees, furious with what had just transpired.
Scott Slade: Oh man! The Drago family jewels are going to need good icing after this match!
Chris Rodgers: Hah! Score one for team Americah!
Scott Slade: Just look at Dasha screaming at Boris! She is not happy with him right now!
Chris Rodgers: I wouldn't want to make that woman angry. She scares me almost as much as Salinas does. She looks like the type of gal who likes to tie you up and crack out the whips if you know what I mean.
Scott Slade: Ok, well, thanks for that imagery...
Chris Rodgers: One for the old spank bank, eh Scotty? You liberals are into that 50 shades of grey shit!
Scott Slade: Will you please just focus on the match? Dirty old Grandpa! Jeez!
Slade let out a loud sigh as Biggs dragged the giant Boris up off the wrestling mat and locked in an inverted facelock. Biggs hooked Drago's arm with his free left arm and began to pull back and up, wrenching on the Russian neck and spine. Boris continued to growl and roar like a polar bear while he fought through the pain of the Dragon Sleeper hold, struggling to stay conscious. Dasha continued to shout at Boris, trying to keep him from passing out. The hookers outside of the ring jumped up and down, clapping happily, applauding LuLu as he manhandled the beast from Siberia.
Chris Rodgers: Impressive stuff from Biggs. He's squeezing the life out of that big Russian bastard!
Scott Slade: A Dragon Sleeper hold, no doubt picked up during his time in Japan. I believe that's the first time we've seen him use that hold in a match, Chris.
Chris Rogers: He seems to be getting better with every match. I think he was a little out of shape when he joined the roster earlier this year.
Scott Slade: A little out of shape? Chris, the man, is six hundred pounds!
Chris Rodgers: My point is that he'd never wrestled outside of Sumo before, and his stint in Japan, while successful, was pretty short-lived. Of course, if I had the choice of spending my time fooling around with sexy ladies or wrestling fat Japanese men, I'd probably retire early too.
Scott Slade shook his head as LuLu grew frustrated with Drago's resilience and released his arm so he could start hammering on the Russian's chest. After a few strikes, Biggs dragged Boris over to his corner and tagged in the Franchise Champion Huckleberry. LuLu held onto the inverted facelock hold as Huckleberry climbed onto the top turnbuckle and jumped off, landing a double foot stomp that drove Boris into the wrestling mat hard. The fans erupted again into a roar of boos as Biggs climbed out of the ring, and Huckleberry quickly covered Boris.
Chris Rodgers: God damn! Just look at that teamwork!
Scott Slade: Huckster with a cover! O.N.E.!! T.W.O.!!! No, kick out by Boris at the last possible second! He's got a find a way to tag in Dasha, or the Russian's are going home with another "L" tonight.
Huckleberry jumped off Boris and onto his feet and immediately went to work stomping on the seven-footer. He then started to do his infamous jig dance before bouncing off the ropes and landing a nice elbow drop on Boris, who was still struggling to catch his breath. Huckleberry tried to grab Boris by the head and drag him up, but the resilient Russian grabbed hold of little hillbilly's throat and began to strangle him with his giant right hand. The fans erupted in cheers as Huckleberry struggled to get free from his grasp, unable to breathe. After shaking off the cobwebs, Boris lifted Huckleberry and choke slammed him hard into the wrestling mat, causing everyone in the stadium to jump to their feet with a roar.
Scott Slade: My God! That's one way to change the momentum of a match!
Chris Rodgers: Boris outweighs Huckleberry by two hundred and twenty-six pounds! He's got almost twice the Champion's wingspan and towers over him by at least 14 inches. If Biggs and Huckleberry want to win this match, the Huckster can't be in the ring with Boris.
Scott Slade: Yeah, but Chris, you can't ever count Huckleberry out. He seems always to find some way to win. We've seen it multiple times!
Boris stumbled over to his corner and immediately tagged in Dasha, who had ordered him out of the ring. Dasha climbed up onto the top turnbuckle and then even higher onto Boris's shoulders, using his hands to keep her balance all the while. She then pounced on the dazed and confused Huckster landing an insane "Meteora" double knee drop crushing the Huckster who was seven feet below them. Dasha made sure to drive her knees into the pectoral and shoulder portions of Huckleberry's body. Dasha landed hard and rolled off the hillbilly, holding her knees in pain as Huckleberry screams in agony, with his arms wrapped around his upper body.
Chris Rodgers: I think that crazy move hurt Ivanova almost as bad as it hurt Huckleberry! What the hell was she thinking! That was insane!
Scott Slade: The movie is named after these giant cliffs in Greece, but I don't think I've ever seen a "Meteora" performed from that height! She could have broken both her kneecaps with that maneuver!
Chirs Rodgers: I have to wonder if Huckleberry's collar bones are in one piece. That is a fragile area of the body, and it doesn't take a lot of weight to break a collar bone. It happens to quarterbacks in football all the time. Usually, when they get sacked, and a defender lands on top of them with all their body weight.
Boris stepped back behind the ropes and stomped his foot on the mat, cheering Dasha on, trying to will her back to her feet. Dasha crawled to the ring ropes and pulled herself up onto her feet, and began terrorizing the Franchise Champion by stomping all over on him before knocking him prone on his back with a beautiful Savate kick. She then picked up the little Appalachian and whipped him into the ropes. The Franchise Champion bounced off of them like a rag doll, and in his dazed state, stumbled right into Dasha, who caught him and took him down with a Sambo scissor takedown using her powerful Russian legs.
Scott Slade: Sambo scissor takedown into a pin! O.N.E.!! T.W.O.!!! NO!!!
Chris Rodgers: I can't believe the Huckster kicked out of that!
Scott Slade: Me either, Chris! He's got to try to find a way to tag out. He looks in bad shape!
Chris Rodgers: The last thing he wants is to walk out of this match injured this close to his title defense against Jeremiah Vastrix at Ultra Slam Two!
Dasha got back up and then dragged the hillbilly up by his long dirty blond hair till he was back on his feet. She then grabbed his head, locking it under her arm, and attempted a suplex, but the Huckster blocked it by wrapping his right leg around Dasha's. The fans looked on shocked as the Franchise champion dug deep and reversed it by Fisherman suplexing Ivanova. Even more astounding was his where with all to arch his back and hold it for a pin.
Scott Slade: A reverse and a pin! O.N.E.!! NO!!! A brilliant and powerful kick out by Dasha Ivanova!
Chris Rodgers: The Huckster's got no quit in him! I think he caught Ms. Ruski by surprise there!
Both wrestlers laid on the wrestling mat, breathing heavily for at least thirty seconds. Then incredibly, they both found their way up onto their feet at about the same time. The fans roared as the two began to slug it out with lefts and rights until Ivanova snapped and rocked Huckleberry with a mammoth haymaker. With the Huckster dazed, she lit him up with her famous combination known as the "Spetsnaz Strikes" and clobbered him to the mat with a spinning right back fist that nailed the hillbilly's head.
With Huckleberry on his back struggling to regain his senses, Dasha grabbed both his legs and stepped in between them. She then twisted his legs into a knot around her leg and then stepped over, turning Huckleberry over onto his stomach. With Huckleberry firmly locked into the "Iron Curtain" submission lock, she began applying pressure causing excruciating pain to the hucksters' right knee and legs. Referee Bob Sigro dove to the mat and got in the Huckster's face asking him if he wanted to quit and tap out. The Huckster shook his head like crazy refusing as he tried to fight out of the hold.
Scott Slade: Oh no, it could be all over for the champions! A variation of the Sharpshooter from Russian known as the Iron Curtain. It's going to be impossible to get out of that hold!
Chris Rodgers: Where there is a will, there is way Scotty!
LuLu, not wanting to be disqualified for interfering, motioned over to one of his hookers for his solid gold pimp cane. The ho did as her pimp told her and tossed his rod up to him. With referee Bob Sigro down on the mat with his back turned to Biggs, Lulu reached back and flung the pimp cane at Dasha, nailing her in the back of her skull with its diamond-studded solid gold handle. The impact knocked Dasha out cold and dropped her flat on the wrestling mat, much to the crowd's frustration, who was eager to see Huckleberry tap out. Boris shook the ropes like a mad man filled with rage, angry at what had taken place.
Chris Rodgers: What a throw by Biggs! He absolutely smoked that Russian she-hulk!
Scott Slade: Sigro has picked up the cane and is having words with Biggs, but he's acting as if the cane isn't his.
Chris Rodgers: Hahaha, prove it, Sigro!
With Huckleberry's legs twisted up like linguine pasta noodles, he used his arms to crawl toward LuLu. Once close enough, he reached out, successfully tagging the pimp into the match. Dasha managed to roll over to Boris on the other side of the ring and tagged him in. Once again, the two titans collided in the ring center, exchanging hard right and left-handed punches.
Scott Slade: Look at these two giants; they're seriously going at it!
Chris Rodgers: What a match! What a fight! You can't ask for much more!
The fans roared as they watched the two behemoths pummel one another stupid. Once again, though, Boris was outpowered by the gigantic Mr. Biggs, who rocked him with a heavy-handed punch that caught him straight in the jaw. He then followed it up with a kick to the lower abdomen before grabbing hold of the seven-footer and locking his head between his big jumbo thighs. With the fans booing him hysterically, Biggs took the opportunity to gyrate his hips with Boris's head in between his legs in a sexual manner. The hookers at ringside laughed and giggled as they pointed at Boris while LuLu emasculated him.
Chris Rodgers: What in all that is holy is Biggs doing? That's disgusting!
Scott Slade: I've heard him describe it as the LuLu Wiggle! I think we just caught our first glimpse of it!
Chris Rodgers: No one... and I mean no one... in the entire wide world wants to see that ever again!
Biggs finished disrespecting Boris and then hunkered down and used every ounce of his strength to pick up all three hundred and seventy-five pounds of Boris onto his shoulders. The Cuban fans looked on stunned as LuLu power bombed the big seven-footer hard into the wrestling mat. The crowd went silent as Biggs stood slumped, exhausted by the fantastic display. Dasha looked on helpless as Biggs collapsed on top of Boris for a cover.
Chris Rodgers: Dear God, all mighty! I can't believe my eyes!
Scott Slade: Look at the look on Dasha Ivanova's face! She can't believe what she just witnessed! I don't think Boris has ever been manhandled like that before!
Chris Rodgers: O.N.E.! T.W.O.!! NO!!! NO!!! THE MATCH GOES ON!!! INCREDIBLE!!! HOW ON EARTH DID HE DO IT!!! HOW DID YOU KICK OUT AFTER A POWERBOMB LIKE THAT!!!
Scott Slade: Somehow, Boris got his shoulder up off the mat just enough to save the match! LuLu is in shock! He can't process how Boris was able to pull that off.
Chris Rodgers: That was a miraculous show of determination from the Russian. I've said a lot of bad things about these commie bastards. One thing I've never said is that Ruski's were sissies. They breed them tough as nails up there in Siberia, and if you wanted proof, you just got it.
Biggs rolled slowly off of Boris and struggled to get back to his feet, clearly winded. This gave Boris a bit of time to recuperate as he laid on his back, breathing heavily, trying to catch a second wind. LuLu managed to get on his hands and knees after two minutes of him just panting with sweat dripping off his fat face onto the wrestling mat. With what looked to be the last of his stamina, the six hundred pounder managed to crawl over to Huckleberry. The hillbilly pulled out a flask of moonshine, downed the entire thing, and then slapped his obese partner's hand for a legal tag. He then tossed the flask away and immediately climbed up the turnbuckle to the top rope.
Scott Slade: Here we go! The Huckster is heading to the top rope for the "Moonshine Devine"! He's looking to end this thing and put the final nail in the coffin!
Huckleberry ignored the boos from the fans and dove off the top rope attempting to hit his trademark flying headbutt. Boris, however, saw the move coming was able to roll out of the way just in time. Huckleberry slammed into the ring mat face first and looked severely concussed as he laid motionless in the middle of the ring. Boris mustered up some composure, got back up, and dove toward Dasha, who was eagerly waiting for his tag.
Chris Rodgers: OOOoooh! Nobody home, and here comes Dasha, the dominator!
Scott Slade: Dasha the dominator?
Chris Rodgers: Yeah, it's my new nickname for her! She dominates in the ring and in the bedroom! Hahaha!
Scott Slade: You're a sick old man, you know that, right?
Dasha once again went on the attack, stomping all over the Ultimate Wrestling Franchise Champion with her size nine military boot. She then picked him up and lifted him high into the air before slamming him to the wrestling mat with an impressive brainbuster. The leader of the Russian stable then covered the concussed hillbilly for a pin by rolling him up.
Chris Rodgers: The dominator with a pin, O.N.E.! T.W.O.!! KICK OUT BY HUCKLEBERRY!!!
Scott Slade: It's like no matter how much punishment this little freak takes, nothing phases him! How the hell is he still in this match? It makes no sense!
Dasha pounded her fist on the wrestling mat, irate that Huckleberry had managed to slip out of her grasp. She quickly got up, locked the Huckster's head into a sleeper hold, and attempted to cut off the blood supply to Huckleberry's brain. The fans cheered her on as she increased the pressure and screamed like a banshee while doing so. Referee Sigro moved in and saw that Huckster's eyes were closed shut, and his arms were limp.
Chris Rodgers: This doesn't look good for the Huckster, Scotty. She got that sleeper hold locked in tight.
Scott Slade:The blood supply to Huckleberry's brain is being cut off as we speak.
Sigro lifted the Hucksters right arm twice, and it dropped each time limply. With only one test for consciousness left, Sigro lifted the little Appalachian's arm up one last time, and the hillbilly caught it mid-way on its way down. The fans booed and cursed at the Huckster as he began shaking like a crackhead jonesing for a rock. Dasha's expression on her face soured as she struggled to keep the Huckster down on the mat. Before the strong Russian woman knew it, the Franchise Champion was back up on his feet and elbowing her in the midsection. After repeated elbow shots to the gut, she was forced to release the sleeper.
Huckleberry went to the ropes, bounced off them, and hit Ivanova with a powerful dropkick that sent Dasha barreling backward up over the ropes and outside the ring on the floor. Lulu's ho's immediately grouped around her like a pack of sharks in a frenzy and began to kick her repeatedly. With Dasha being counted out on the outside, Boris Stormed. Huckleberry was celebrating in the ring, dancing around, and Drago attempted to take his head off with a clothesline. The massive seven-footer was too slow to hit Huckleberry, however, and instead ended up socking Referee Bob Sigro in the back of his head, knocking him cold flat on his face on the wrestling mat.
Chris Rodgers: Oh no! Sigro is down! We've got no active referee in this match!
Scott Slade: The officials need to send in a backup; otherwise, all hell is going to break loose!
With the referee down, Biggs stormed into the ring and helped Huckleberry double team the Russian, clubbing him with blows and pinning him up against the northeast turnbuckle. Suddenly a commotion took hold of the fans as Jeremiah Vastrix forced his way through the crowd and jumped over the guard railing with a steel chair in his hands.
Chris Rodgers: Wait a damn minute! That's Vastrix! Jeremiah Vastrix has a steel chair and has revenge on his mind! SOMEONE STOP HIM!
Scott Slade: Do you honestly blame him? Huckleberry pried out one of his cybernetic eyes last week!
Chris Rodgers: You're right, Scotty. I'd be pissed, too, if I had to walk around with an eye patch on like a goofy pirate! Plus, those glowing doohickeys in his skull have to cost a fortune.
Vastrix snuck up behind the Tag Team Champions, who were too busy beating on Boris to notice him. Vastrix ran up from behind his nemesis LuLu Biggs and low-blowed him from behind. The Big man collapsed on top of Boris, crushing him against the turnbuckle. Huckleberry turned around to see what had happened to his partner, only to receive a devastating chair shot straight to the front of his skull. The violent blow sent the hillbilly stumbling into the ropes and caused him to barrel out of the ring, falling to the floor. The Cuban fans roared and began to chant "Hombre de la Máquina," happy with the violence the cyborg wrestler had unleashed on the American Champions.
Chris Rodgers: No! No! No! How could this happen!
Scott Slade: This is all Huckleberry's fault, and you know it! He brought this upon them by what he did at the last Friday Night Clash!
Chris Rodgers: My Spanish is a bit rough, but I believe they're chanting "Machine Man" Scotty.
Scott Slade: Absolutely! The cyborg wrestler seems to have won these people over! I think they enjoyed every second of that wicked chair shot!
With Huckleberry on the floor bleeding from his forehead Jeremiah turned his attention back to LuLu Biggs. He tossed the steel chair onto the wrestling mat and then grabbed Biggs by the head and neck and pulled him off Boris. Boris gasped for air as the pressure of the six hundred Biggs suppressing his breathing was finally lifted. With LuLu in Jeremiah's clutches, he gave the crowd a little cyborg shimmy shake before twisting LuLu Head and planting him headfirst into the steel chair with his specialized neck breaker, the "Down Low."
Scott Slade: DOWN LOW!!! DOWN LOW!!! ON THE STEEL CHAIR!!!
Chris Rodgers: This is going from bad to worse! Anderson, get your ass out here now! We need a referee!
With both Jeremiah's enemies incapacitated, he slid out of the ring and hopped back over the guardrail, and disappeared into the outfield filled with Cuban wrestling fans patting him on the back. With the tag team champions incapacitated, Dasha climbed back up onto the ring Apron and commanded Boris to revive Bob Sigro. Boris did as he was told, and Dasha climbed onto the turnbuckle's top rope nearest to Biggs. She then jumped off the ropes like an Olympic athlete and did an incredible 450-degree corkscrew in mid-air before crashing down on top of LuLu's humongous belly.
Scott Slade: Oh my God! 450 Corkscrew!
Chris Rodgers: God damn it!
LuLu Blubber sent the Russian bouncing up about three feet in the air before crashing down on the giant pimp for a second time. Dasha then pined LuLu and used all her strength to hook his oversized leg. A few seconds passed to her frustration before Sigro finally shook the cobwebs with Boris's help. As soon as he saw Dasha was on top of Biggs, he dove to the wrestling mat and began his count.
Scott Slade: O.N.E.! T.W.O.!! THREE!!!
Chris Rodgers: This can't be happening! America is always supposed to win!
Rose Johnston: The winners of this match, and NEW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS! BORIS DRAGO AND DASHA IVANOVA!! TEAM RUSSIA!!!
The bellman sounded the bell repeatedly, signifying the end of the match as Referee Bob Sigro presented the Russian Tag Team with their newly acquired championship gold belts. "Sgori" by Stvore began to play over the baseball stadiums' sound system as the crowd cheered on their Russian heroes. E.M.T.'s rushed out from the makeshift stage and ran down the ramp toward the ring to aid Huckleberry and LuLu. Both were still on their backs and not moving. Boris and Dasha gave each other a stern but affirmative nod before exiting the ring and marching back up the ramp and into the locker rooms.
Scott Slade: Fans, that was a wild Tag Team Title match! We've got to go to a quick commercial break, but when we come back, Vastrix takes on unfathomable W.E.N.D.E.!
Chris Rodgers: Bah! The fans didn't come here to watch Battlebots! We're going to watch two cyborgs walk up to each other to what, compare hardware specs? Dang it, the people demand wrestlers, not machines!
Scott Slade: Fans will be back in sixty seconds!
Allen Anderson sat in his chair inside the general manager's office for the Cuban National Baseball team. The office was located above the press boxes looking over the baseball diamond from high above. Posters of legendary Cuban baseball players like Jose Mendez, Dolf Luque, and Martin Dihigo decorated the office walls. The desk in front of Allen was full of signed baseballs from past teams dating back to the early 1950s.
Anderson was dressed in a fine Italian suit and was smoking a cigar while looking over some documents that concerned possible venues for Ultra Slam II. Suddenly the door to his office swung open, and W.E.N.D.E, the android, walked in. The lifelike human Synthazoid was already dressed in her wrestling gear and looked ready for some extreme action.
W.E.N.D.E: You wanted something?
Allen set the documents he'd been reviewing down on the desk and stared up at the W.E.N.D.E's cold glowing green eyes.
Anderson: I want a lot of things, Wendy... However, what I want from you tonight is to hurt Jeremiah as much as possible. The last thing I want to deal with is my mortal enemy running around with the Ultimate Wrestling Franchise Championship on his shoulder, making it even harder for me to get rid of him once and for all.
W.E.N.D.E: What's in it for me?
Anderson: Let's just say I know what you've been hunting for out there in that cold, cruel world of ours...
The Vice President of Ultimate Wrestling pulled out a yellow vanilla envelope from his briefcase. He retrieved a high-resolution photo from it and then slid the picture across the desk toward the W.E.N.D.E. The image was of the android herself in her "Lily Tiger" identity carrying the body of another W.E.N.D.E unit across her shoulders. The androids green eyes pulsed brightly as she scanned the photo in front of her.
W.E.N.D.E: Really now. You have my attention.
Anderson: I can give you information that will put you on the path to finding some actual real answers. Just make sure that Jeremiah can never grace a wrestling ring... or a boardroom... ever again. I hear there is a shortage of cybernetic eyes on the market if you catch my drift...
W.E.N.D.E: Jeremiah's a pretty popular guy on the roster with a lot of allies. He's also got a lot of power at his disposal. Tell me why hurting the owner of Hammer Industries on live international television won't come back to haunt me.
Anderson: Trust me, I'm going to be keeping him and his friends… very busy in the coming weeks. Perhaps, if I give you a snippet of what I have in store for him…
W.E.N.D.E leaned in, and Anderson whispered in her ear. The android smiled coldly as her eye's once again pulsed bright green with excitement.
W.E.N.D.E: You got yourself a deal.
The android marched out of the office with a determined look on her pale synthetic face. Once outside, she quickly sprinted her way down to the field for her match. As W.E.N.D.E disappeared from Allen's view, his smartphone began to ring and vibrate on the table. Allen quickly recognized the phone number and answered it.
Anderson: Yes, Cardinal Urizar. The W.E.N.D.E has been pointed at the problem. Step one of ridding ourselves of Jeremiah is in motion. Soon Hammer Industries will be back in our control, and War Hammer will again steer humanity's future... Yes, of course, sir. Once the W.E.N.D.E has completed her final task, I'll activate the new Titanium Angels. Yes, sir, it was good of Xi Jinping to put China's best programmers on the project. He's assured me that the A.I. shouldn't have a problem dealing with the W.E.N.D.E. Yes, Sir. Excellent sir...
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