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With the events of the evening coming to a close, the crowd grows more restless having plopped down top dollar for a bunch of filler. Seriously, two promo segments that really achieved next to nothing. In fact nothing of consequence wouldn't be happening until now. Bob Saget enters the ring.
Saget: The following match is for one fall and is an open challenge for the Tag Team titl...
Saget gets cut off by the new choice music of The Siege. All three members walk out in fight gear, Jenn leading the pack with one of the tag titles and Donovan heading up the rear with the other, Shaw stuck in the middle with a microphone.
Shaw: Please allow me to interrupt, see, this isn't about the tag titles exactly, Bob: you might want to read the fucking index cards we give you. This is a hostage situation. We are The Siege and it's pretty much what the fuck we do.
The trio saunter down to the ring, getting a "controversial" response that's a mix of vehement disdain or devoted adoration. The "blondes" as it were are wearing the gold while Kenny spins some more on the microphone. Kevin and Jenna walk up the steps to the apron; Donovan being a gentlemen and holding the ropes open while Kenny steps in after his fiancee.
Smith: Here we go, finally something worth listening to.
Brunswick: Folks, as of right now we still don't know if any team has accepted the challenge of The Siege.
Shaw pats the mic to hush the crowd.
Shaw: When presented with opportunity, the ambitious would strive to achieve. Instead we've heard crickets. We laid out an open challenge, an opportunity for anyone, to come out here and try to end The Siege but nothing. In fact the only rumblings I've heard were from a certain "someone." This someone has got a big head because he won his belt back from Kevin Donovan. This someone dared to "kinda" challenge me by saying that if I put my points up then he would challenge me here tonight: despite us making our intentions fairly clear to anyone with a first-grade education and a minor grasp of the English language that "this" is what we had to offer this event, these fine people, and the company rather than sitting at home and beating off to hentai while my best friend defends his title. And as of this moment, not a single soul has stepped forward.
Smith: Not that I blame them, Brunny. It's The Siege.
Brunswick: So they go to bat for you once and now this is what you do?
Smith: [[EDITTED OUT BY ACE: APOLOGIES TO ALL WHO SAW THIS. FURTHER ACTION WILL BE COMING]]
Brunswick: ... Jesus Christ.
Shaw: And folks, we just want to put on a show for you. We can't let the Onslaught provide the only match of meaning for this entire event. Because who wants to watch that? Who wants to pay to watch that? See, The Onslaught, with their selfishness; it trying to take money out of the pockets of everyone else that isn't them. The Alice Harrises, the Danny O'Briens, good people who don't fit The Onslaught-mold and they think don't deserve that fat pay-per-view money. Last month they did it to Kevin by Takato forcing his rematch to take place after the event. So as long as we have the titles or the means, we will provide for you and for our fellow wrestlers. And in this such instance, we still maintain our stance of providing opportunity to any team that wishes to step forward and claim their stake. But given the silence that seems more and more unlikely, doesn't it, Kevin?
Donovan nods.
Shaw: It's not a disrespect to anyone, to be quite frank, I wouldn't want to face myself and Kevin as a unit either. But maybe Jenn wants to get it, the couple that slays together stays together after all. Or maybe two graduates of Catch U wanna show off that good, ol' fashion rasslin'. That's the risk and maybe the reward. But if we don't get two people that want to come out and try, that can't happen for you good people.
Another mixed response.
Shaw: So, I have decided to call an audible. The shot clock, please.
A timer appears on the screen with ":05" across it in big white font.
Shaw: When that timer reaches zero, something important will happen. Scenario one, some team comes on down, two of us will wrestle them for the tag team titles as promised. That's scenario one, the one that we've given ample notice for: the one we're waiting on still. Or scenario two, which comes from the crafty Jap brain of one Takato Kazama. See, that kid is a whiz with numbers, go figure, and he deduced that I have ample points towards challenging him for his title. A keen observation on his part. And he went so far as to suggest that "if I wanted Takato Kazama to wrestle on the show so bad, why don't I just step up and do it myself." So, taking a cue from a true mastermind, why not. Now, here's the funny thing. This is where all the suspense is going to come from. You are going to call all your friends right now and tell them to buy this because of this announcement. If at that buzzer, no team comes down then I am automatically "cashing in" 3 points towards the X-Division title. But here's the kicker
Donovan takes the mic and recites a passage written on a note card.
Donovan: PRW Rules and Regulations, Section 4, Article 5 "No showing a championship or contender spot match will result in the loss of the championship/contender spot for the respective characters as well as all points."
Brunswick: What a bastard!
Smith: He's smart, Brunny.
Shaw: See, if nobody comes out to try and take the tag titles, then I have no choice but to make up for the gap in the card with a title match of my own, that being the X-Division title. And if Takato Kazama doesn't get off his ass and make it to the ring ten seconds after that buzzer, then I will be your NEW PRW X-Division champion because a coward like him doesn't deserve it to begin with! And that belt will be handed to me, by him, personally.
Brunswick: He's a son of a bitch! He's manipulating the system and for what.
Smith: Dude's smart, Brunswick. I think he deserves a title for that.
Kenny Shaw quickly adopts a look of 'are you fucking kidding me?' as the tick and boom plays out over the arena before the energetic young up start El Boomo bounds out onto the stage full of youthful excitement. The Siege look at one another in frustration as 'Boom! Shake the Room' by the Fresh Prince begins to play and it appears we aren't going to see an X-Division championship match here tonight.
El Boomo dances his way down the gangway and seems completely oblivious to the fury that is swelling within the ranks of the Siege. They had hoped that nobody would be foolish enough to accept their open challenge let alone this kid whose only experience up until this point had been to be powerbombed by Razer over, and over, and over. Oh, and to find out that he was a luchadore (from England!) who was scared of heights. Imagine that, a luchadore who is too afraid to climb to the top rope.
Boomo bounces around the ringside area, slapping the hands of the fans who are glad to see anybody answer the challenge of the Siege because who doesn't want to see a PRW World Tag Team championship match up? Well, probably the ones that wanted to see a PRW X-Division championship match up but such is life. Boomo climbs up the stairs and hops through the ropes with reckless abandon before jumping on the spot, throwing his arms wide and screaming 'BOOM' to the crowd. A strong 'oooooooooooo' is sent back his way but as he gathers his bearing any pleasure at the fans getting onside with him quickly dissipate as The Siege surround him. Boomo finds himself at the center of a very, very angry triangle.
Kenny Shaw, "Who the fuck are you?"
El Boomo, "I'm El Boo..."
Kenny Shaw, "No one gives a fuck, shut up. Now correct me if I'm wrong here but I'm pretty sure this is an Open Challenge for the PRW Tag Team championships. The perquisite being that a tag team accept the challenge. You are not a tag team. Hell, I don't think you're even all man."
Boomo isn't given the mic but he can be heard to explain that he figured he would just pop out here and someone else would come down to team with him and 'BOOM' instant tag team. This seems to make Shaw in particular even angrier because Boomo was just delaying his becoming X-Division champion. This wouldn't do in any way. Shaw shakes his head and throws the microphone out of the ring as all three members of the Siege converge on El Boomo. Hell, you could say they have him under siege. You could say that but maybe that is too easy? Easy or not it is the truth of the moment.
Boomo looks from side to side and suddenly begins to realize the mistake he has made. His eyes shoot from Shaw to Donovan to Jett, he hops from foot to foot, spins to the spot to try and keep each member of the Siege in his sights but it is all too much for Boomo. He is in over his head and as the Siege pounces he can only hope that someone takes pity on him and comes to his aid otherwise he is what you would call royally fucked.
The Siege rain down blow after blow and if this doesn't end soon then El Boomo's PRW career is going to be over before it has even begun.
The lights went down on the three on one ass kicking.
Smith: The Hell?
Brunswick: With the way this night has been going, Doug, it could literally be anything...
The darkness persisted for a little longer with the crowd holding up smart phones with the flashlight app on and shining, or setting off flashes on their cameras. Then, music groaned from the speaker system as a grayscale image of a single, wide open eye materialized on the tron screens.
The lights started to strobe when the music kicked in full tilt, flickering to black light. There was a familiarity to this at first, and an initial crowd pop. Many figured that this was Tsukishima Shadow returning. Portishead theme, black lights, the whole thing felt like her entrance, but the clipshow on the tron revealed otherwise. The images there were rapid fire, darting between Topes, Heel Kicks and Moonsualts...the woman doing them looking vaguely similar to another resident Joshi...at least in technique execution.
Then the woman broke curtain, black kimono, black, wide brimmed sedge hat with a massive black veil that surrounded the whole ensemble, and black long gloves covering her hands. The drama in the ring having halted for the newcomer, the crowd was muted by it all in turn...then Tsukishima Shadow walked out onto the stage with the woman in black, stopping behind her with an evil grin when she stopped at the edge of the ramp.
El Boomo quickly vacated the ring for the ringside near the apron as the veiled figure stared at the remaining contents between the ropes. She put a hand to her chest and then extended a hand out palm up, let it fall...then she started down the ramp with Tsuki in tow.
The crowd confused at first now start to sound for the meddlesome Psycho Bitch and whatever she was bringing to the title scene.
Smith: Look, Tsuki brought the tag team champions a present!
Brunswick: There's a frightening concept! A gift from Tsuki might as well be a foreclosure missive or a court subpena! Nothing worth getting excited about!
Smith: Well, one things for sure...
Brunswick: And that is, Doug?
Smith: Things will bleed and probably scream tonight...
Saget: Making her way to the ring from Osaka Japan by way of Apopka Florida, accompanied by Tsukishima Shadow, standing at 5'11, weighing in at 167lbs...MMMMMOOOOOOTOOOOOKOOOOO...SSSAAAAKUUUURRRRAAAABAAA!!!
Smith: Motoko Sakuraba, huh, I thought she was still murdering bitches in Pachinko Parlors in Japan and bleeding people out in armories across the mid-west...looks like Tsuki ringed her in for tonight!
Brunswick: Does Tsuki run a sort of fucked up finishing school for Joshi transfer students to the states?
Smith: For the women deemed too disturbed when churned out by Urashima's school, yeah.
Brunswick: Well, you're familiar with this one. What are we to expect?
Smith: No Harakiri Armbars...Lotta kicking, elbowing and kneeing, some rebound and springboard offense, complete and total emotional breakdowns and screaming fits...
Brunswick: Gotcha!
Making the end of the ramp, Tsuki snapped her fingers at El Boomo, motioning him to come over. Motoko held out her arms to either side as Tsuki verbally walked El Boomo through the process of untying the obijime, then the obi belt itself. El Boomo handed them to Tsuki and Motoko dropped her arms and shrugged the kimono into a crumpled heap as Tsuki took the sedge hat from off her head, mouthing several things to her.
The lights went back on and the towering Japanese woman stood scowling. Pale, tall, athletic, she wore a tight, two-piece wrestling ensemble, knee-high black boots, long gloves, and a scowl. Her long black hair looking like stranding of ebony. She stared up at Donovan, Jett and Shaw, then held her hand out to El Boomo expectantly.
El Boomo just blinked at it until Tsuki slapped him on the back of his head and verbally screeched at him to take Motoko's hand. El Boomo snatched it up fast and led Motoko to the stairs, where, she ascended slowly into the ring, El Boomo holding her hand right until she ducked in.
Tsuki, job done, rounded the ring and went straight to the commentary table as Sakuraba approached Shaw. She held her right hand to her chest briefly and then offered it out to Shaw, palm up. Shaw, who, obviously, didn't care and turned his face to the hand. Such was his way. So Motoko brought it to Donovan, same motion, but Donovan spat into her open palm. Motoko didn't even flinch or react at this passed moving her offered hand to Jenna, who, eyed the hand with a grimace, seeing the spit pooling in the palm.
Then Motoko coldly slapped Jett in the face with the offered hand, spit clapping flesh. Jett was caught completely off guard, and Motoko kept right on with hostilities, grabbing two handfuls of Jenna Jett's hair and jerking her towards the apron, where, she Moolah Whipped her through the ropes, between top and middle.
Jett crashed against the barricade outside as Donovan and Shaw Pearl Harbored Motoko from behind with Forearms.
Tsukes: Hey guys!
Brunswick: Tsuki.
Smith: Akina. I see you brought El Boomo and the Siege something to play with!
Tsukes: I share my toys, Doug. But isn't she charming, Donovan gives her spit in her palm, and she just rubs it in the face of his rotten crotch whore! That's so giving. Honestly, Motoko needs to be more selfish and less selfless.
Brunswick: Yeah...right..Anyway! I'm not familiar with Motoko...
Tsukes: Step into the ring then, Brunny! Shaw and Donovan are introducing themselves right now, getting all chummy with her, why not you too!
El Boomo jumped into the fray, taking some of the heat off of his partner, descending the ring back into wild chaos as the four tussle each other with blows. Lucas Millar managed to establish order with the aid of Mutsumi Saeki, who entered the ring with two Kendo Sticks, one for herself and one for Millar.
Regulating matters together, Lucas settled the Siege into one corner while Mutsumi bitched out El Boomo and Motoko in the other, waving her Singapore Cane at them both.
When Saeki left, Lucas took up his spot at the center of the ring and signaled for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
Waving the match on, Kendo Stick in hand, Lucas walked out of the center of the ring as Motoko took point for her side, and Shaw for his.
Brunswick: Match finally underway...
Tsukes: Really, it looked like it had already started before I and Motoko walked out...
Brunswick: LEGALLY started, Tsuki.
Tsukes: Semantics.
Smith: So, has she overcome biting people mid match at all?
Tsukes: Who? Motoko? Ah, fuck no!
The two come to the center and Motoko offered out her hand, exactly like she had before the bell. Did Kenny care? NO! He batted the hand aside and Thrust Kicked Motoko. The Osakan hugged her stomach, and staggered back several feet as Shaw came in with a hand strike. Motoko ducked under his arm and spun about, lunging her shoulder into Shaw's stomach.
Shaw doubled and Motoko grasped his head and hooked his arm before kneeling it all to the mat for a Front Face-lock. Lucas checked the hold, making sure it was all right and proper before going to Shaw, receiving a quick rebuke from the man, he finally stepped away from the affair, but hovered just in case.
A simple hold, Motoko held it fast as Shaw started to struggle it up. Motoko sandbagged her weight and cinched it up a little more, her arm hooked around Shaw's arm starting a slight torque. She also repositioned her legs into a mountain climb position. One leg forward and bent, one outstretched and straight. When Shaw started to lift the hold, Motoko brought the outstretched leg in fast, kneeing right into Shaw's collar bone.
A quick gasp sounded, and Shaw dropped back to the mat.
Brunswick: Ruthless bitch like you, I see. Where'd you find her? Orphanage? Broken home? Whorehouse?
Tsukes: An estate, actually. She's rather well bred, very proper. Likes traditional cooking, and long walks on the beach. Her dream date is with James Garner.
Smith: She knows he's dead, right?
Tsukes: Yup! Told her right when I took that garish hat off her head!
Smith: Ooohh.
Tsukes: Shaw's definitely getting the worst of it right now!
Shaw battled back up, taking another knee that arrested his rise, bringing him back down to the mat. The hold so tight, Shaw couldn't shake his head in aggravation at his situation and how he was approaching it. A Front Face-lock was bread and butter, and also the equivalent to conjunctions in pro wrestling. He could break this elementary hold, in spite of the brutal element accompanying it.
Shaw forced himself up again, anticipating the knee. No longer trying to pry Motoko's hand off, he used that hand to snag the back of Motoko's bent leg. He brought his own knees beneath him and despite the discomfort, squeezed in a grip on Motoko, hooking the impacting knee before it could retreat. then he stood with a loud groan, springing to his feet before he pitched back in one flowing motion, nailing a modified Muken with Bridge Pin.
Millar shot in as the crowd popped for the spectacle of the counter.
ONE!
TWO!
And a fast kickout.
Motoko rolled away from Shaw and Shaw rolled away from her, both popping up fast. They stared at each other and came back to center, Motoko bringing her hand to her chest again before offering it out to Shaw once more. Shaw looked at it momentarily and slapped it aside once again.
A Joshi cry sounded, and Shaw folded at the waist, recipient of a Knee to the gut. Motoko pressed forward with Overhand Chops to Shaw's brow, each reported not only with the slap of impact but the peeling keen of a Joshi cry. Backing Shaw into the ropes, she pressed her shoulder to his, grasped his forearm and Irish Whipped him to the opposing ropes.
Mid-whip counter, Shaw Short Armed the whole thing into a Clothesline, flooring Motoko. Head bouncing off the mat, Motoko framed her head with her arms, bellowing shrilly as she sat up from the impact. Shaw went into immediate action, Thrust Kicking Motoko right in the face, leveling her back to the canvas. He held a pause, aimed his foot and stomped down on Motoko's face, drawing a jolt from her form.
Smith: Shaw's battling a woman who is not only taller, but almost his same weight! That has to be all sorts of strange! I didn't think they grew them that big!
Tsukes: Blame it on the indigenous radiation...
Brunswick: Too soon, Tsukes!
Stomping a mudhole, Shaw decided to forgo walking it dry, grabbing Motoko by her hair and hauling her up. But Motoko reached up, grabbed Shaw's head and as she came vertical she kicked her feet out and sandbagged, the top of her head smashing into Shaw's jaw.
Shaw whipped back to the mat, holding his face, while Motoko crawled to her corner and leaped forward, slapping El Boomo's hand.
El Boomo stepped into the ring as the Lucas counted the tag legal. They approached Shaw as he started up, arresting him at each shoulder together, the two performed a quick upward jerk that lifted and flipped Shaw into a curl, then a vertical drop.
The Double Underhook Driver shook the ring and crumpled Shaw as Millar chased Motoko verbally from the ring and into her corner.
It was up to El Boomo now... (Shaw in, El Boomo tagged in)
With Shaw's bell rung, Boomo takes the opportunity to capitalize with an amateur crossbody and a short flurry of closed rights to the skull of half the tag team champions. The shots rain down until Miller steps in to chastise on account of the flagrantly illegal technique: breaking up the assault that was a small measure of retribution from the one he received moments ago. With Boomo escorted away from the cruiserweight, Kenny finds the opportunity to pull himself back up.
At least for the time being.
Once Miller is done with his admonishment, Boomo goes back on the assault; intercepting Shaw from a knee by taking one of his own and cinching in a side headlock. As he wrenches the neck, the New Orleans crowd watches intently as does Motoko on the apron and Jett from the floor. All but Donovan seems to be invested in the outcome.
Kevin stands lackadaisical on the apron, as if by osmosis he's adopted the perpetual apathy shared by his Siege-mate. He rolls his eyes and slouches forward against the ropes, spouting clichés of encouragement in an inaudible monotone while his partner fights to a vertical base. As he does, Boomo leans in deeper with the headlock; making him pay the toll with spinal pressure as Shaw finally drives the Brit-ador against the ropes. Sending him packing as he slips his head from the grip.
Boomo hits the far ropes with gusto, building momentum as a loopy Shaw staggers to the center of the ring and finally drives into the tag champ with a shoulder tackle. Boomo hovers over Kenny, waiting until Shaw turns to shoot for the leg before backing into the ropes. Kenny gets to a knee but dives back down on his belly for the trip as The Explosive One springs at him; clearing him with a small jump and continuing to build speed. Shaw rises and bounds to the center of the ring, cutting off Boomo with a back elbow to the chest that the six-footer couldn't duck if he wanted.
Kenny is still feeling the ill-effects associated with a deliberate head drop and is slow to capitalize on the Reading pseudo-volador, taking a second too long to start to pull him to his feet and is reprimanded by way of a knee to the ribs for the mistake. Boomo backs Shaw into the ropes, grabbing him by the wrist before sending him for a run. Boomo waits for Shaw to rebound and Kenny is effortlessly lifted off the mat for a tilt-a-whirl. The masked challenger rolls Kenny through the air but somewhere in the manipulation, Shaw regains control of his faculties and clutches Boomo by the arm as he falls back with a masterful lucha libre style armdrag. The luchador is flung towards the ropes, Mokoto becoming more invested in the action upon the reversal. Boomo is quick to his feet with the support nearby and manages to backdrop an oncoming Shaw over the ropes to the apron. The taller man turns as Kenny pulls back on the middle rope for extra spring as he hits his fellow grappler in the abdomen with a shoulder thrust.
Boomo recoils, doubled over, and even turns back to his corner-mate for the tag. Given a tentative grasp on a common language between the two, Mokoto's gesturing does the opposite effect of conveying urgency to make the tag and he turns back. As he does, Kenny has already stepped through the ropes and as is a shared technique between the three, steps off the bottom rope. The low perch puts Kenny nose-to-nose with Boomo before he lunges at him and hooks himself around the luchador's neck and lets his legs swing around. With Shaw's shoulder firmly planted under Boomo's chin, the following is made ever so devastating. With the ging-ador's head tilted back, the snap forward plants Boomo on his face while the rest of his 235 is carried over and folded against his neck: the adopted technique called the Downward Spiral.
Kenny sits up with a snarl having been the target of his opposition since the cavalry came in. He rubs his neck, still feeling the effects of the retaliation. He turns over to stand while Boomo graps at the ropes in hopes of beating Shaw to his feet and getting the tag. While hanging onto the top rope, Boomo is upright; tentatively like a toddler learning his first steps. He hangs off of the cable with one arm while reaching for his impromptu partner, unaware of Shaw's intent as he runs up behind him and sweeps the leg in a manner the Kobra Kai would approve. Boomo's legs kick into the air and with the grip as firm as it is on the ropes, he manages to make a 3/4 backflip until his arm wrings out and he plants onto his head and shoulder: a few feet from Sakuraba's touch.
Following the Hennig Bump, Kevin's expression turns more intent; studying Boomo's expression. From what little can be seen, Kevin checks the omens. Eyes shut, teeth clenched, and finally grabbing the arm. A sneer crawls across Kevin's face, fortunate enough as Shaw was stomping over like an angry child, tagging him in regardless.
Kevin steps in and puts his hands up in the Muay Thai stance he's noted for, circling around the front of Boomo and firing off one of those Muay Thai kicks he's famous for: his shin connecting with the shoulder and forcing an agonizing growl out of Boomo. Kevin turns to Mokoto, dead-eyed and slack-jawed, holds his hand out: palm facing up. The Offered Hand glares coldly at the mockery, even more so as Kevin's expression returns to normal and all but one finger curls back into an unkind gesture. She keeps her cool, staying in her place while Kevin pounces on Boomo.
He grabs him by the arm and pulls him towards the center of the ring, pushing his arm back as he entangles it with a Kimura lock. Kevin drops to a knee, about to cinch in the body scissors, but Boomo takes the roll to alleviate the pressure. Kevin still has a figure-four on the arm as Boomo sits up and the grappling know-how of the Triple Crown winner sees him effortlessly transition into a wakigatame: Fujiwara armbar to the uninitiated.
Boomo, pinned to the canvas, reaches out with his free hand for the ropes, his partner: anything at that point while Donovan cooly lays back across the largest man in the contest and keeps the arm unnaturally straight. Kevin keeps an eye on Mokoto; more than checking for interference. His piercing gaze meets hers, a mutual glance of fuck/eat/kill and in no particular order while Boomo struggles.
Howling something and reaching out, Mokoto meets Kevin's smug expression with pure rage. Kevin, still staring at Saku, spins his hips and takes a knee while keeping the arm barred. Using his hands, he rolls Boomo's arm against the mat like he's making dough with his right hand and using his left to lift the English Mexican-style grappler's left hand off the canvas: a basic aikijujitsu technique that someone of Mokoto's pedigree would be more than familiar with as well as the screams that accompany it. And like that, Kevin suddenly twists his body into an elbow drop to the back of the arm.
Boomo makes a space from Donovan which provides to be more detrimental than anything else as it furthers him from Sakuraba. Boomo retreats to a neutral corner, cradling his arm while Kevin sits Indian-style and chuckles at the Japamazon. Boomo pulls himself up with one arm and Kevin stands up, arrogantly sauntering back over to Boomo and throws another round kick at Boomo: indiscriminate in its targeting but happens to connect with Boomo's abdomen.
Kevin again uses his body to block Boomo from his own corner, forcing his retreat into the Siege's camp where Kevin can leisurely saunter over and tag Shaw back in; the two changing places and the veteran tag team maintaining their control over El Boomo and by extension the hired gun of Tsukishima Shadow.
The Annual Matthew Logan Award for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Technical Excellence
A Little Inspiration
Classic
Trisha aka "Breadquanda," May 8 2014
04:19 AM
All white people do is listen to "dont stop believing" and break iphones
Well, he has found himself under siege. Again. So far he isn't very good at this whole 'not kicking his backside kicked' thing. Shaw smirks to himself and then begins to Boomo in the arm, quick and hard. Boom. Boom. Boom. O? Boomo cries out in pain and clutches his arm as Shaw immediately tags out, apparently deciding not to exert anymore energy on this waste of space. Kenny tells his running buddy, and makes sure every person in the arena hears as well, to 'rip his fucking arm off'.
Oh God, what had Boomo got himself into?
The thought ran through the rookie's head over and over. It bounced off every side of his rattled brain and he couldn't begin to remember why he had thought it was a good idea to challenge The Siege for their titles. Much the same way he couldn't remember what had struck him as a good idea his debut night. In fact it was a God awful idea to throw out an open challenge on your first night in a company when you know bloody Razer is backstage. Boomo would still be worried about how sore his head was from all those powerbombs he received at the hands of the One Man Army but the pain that coursed through his arm had his complete and utter attention. And that was bloody stupid of him as well because he was almost oblivious to Kevin Donovan circling him like a vulture compelled by the stench of suffering and death. There would be 'no quarter' for Boomo tonight and Motoko Sakuraba could only watch on helplessly as Donovan lay the sole of his boot into the arm of the Britadore three times in rapid succession and before Boomo could even whimper his attacker threw himself on top of him in a mount position and began pushing down on his arm. The fans began to panic, Motoko could see her chance to win gold in her debut match crumble just a breath's flutter from her fingertips and Jenna Jett began to mock anybody who was willing to pay attention to her. Donovan quickly took control of the arm via the elbow and wrist, then thrust his elbow hard into Boomo's face as he locked out the head of his victim before slipping his right hand under the bicep to take a hold of his own wrist. Then he pulls back and wrenches Boomo's shoulder in ways it does not want to go as he lifts his elbow up along his leg from the mount and the young luchadore (from England!) finds himself deeply embedded in a Key Lock submission that everyone had accepted would bring an end to this match. And more than a few people suspected might just end Boomo's career before it had even had a chance to truly begin if he didn't just give it up and tap, tap, tap.
Josh Brunswick, "Holy crap, I think Boomo's arm is about to be detached from his body. Why doesn't this kid just give up already?"
The submission hold is so brutal that the panic bubbling up to the surface across the arena has arisen after only a few seconds of the hold being locked in but it appears that Boomo isn't ready to give up. He also has an arm free. At two hundred and thirty odd pounds Boomo is the biggest contestant in this match despite manufacturing an image of someone more focused on speed and agility than brute strength and when he lets loose a few shots with his free right arm into the back of Donovan's skull it is just enough to loosen the man's grip for a moment. The contact of the blows wasn't debilitating but when enough is enough you thank your lucky stars and you scarper. Unless you're Boomo, then you just kind of lay their in a confused state and let a now very angry Kevin Donovan impose his will upon you again. This is exactly what Boomo does and wills are imposed. Donovan drags the rookie to his feet by the edges of his mask then whips the man across the ring by his bad arm. It appears the Bostonian is trying to keep Boomo off his game by constantly switching up the pace of the match and he chases after the Brit. He doesn't expect Boomo to hook his arms around the top rope before the masked man can be ricocheted back towards him by the ropes so Donovan finds himself in the air with his feet raised to arm level to kick any function that arm might have left into oblivion. He lands on his back and vaguely hears the muffled curses of Boomo as reality of using his bad arm to hook the ropes comes home to roost. Donovan attempts to sit up, and in fact does so, but it appears Boomo has pushed his pain to the side for one moment and as KD adjusts to his surroundings his stomach sinks, he feels the explosive press of Boomo's boots on his face and his world is consumed by fire as Donovon finds himself a victim of a running dropkick. His head crashes off the canvas as Boomo rolls away in agony having landed on his arm. It seems Boomo doesn't appear to be considering the consequences of his own offense but he does get to his feet as quickly as possible, not wanting to let the momentum die off. Motoko holds out her in hand for Boomo and he takes a long moment to consider his options as he eyes the young Japanese's woman offer but then shakes his head and heads for the corner and the turnbuckles!
Tsukishima Shadow, "Tag her in you dumb son of a bitch. What is he doing?"
Josh Brunswick, "It appears that El Boomo is looking to fly."
Doug Smith, "Fly? He's scared of heights! He is about to cost himself and Motoko this match. What an idiot."
Idiot or not it appears Boomo has made his decision and he puts a foot on the bottom turnbuckle and eyes the crowd cheering him on. He pushes up and has both feet off the floor but appears to have made a mistake by climbing up facing the outside of the ring which adds a good few feet onto the drop on the far side. Boomo takes a big gulp and with some severe trepidation turns around on the bottom having apparently decided that he is quite high enough, thank you very much! He looks down at Donovan lying a few away from him as Kenny Shaw openly laughs at him and the theatrics that are accompanying Boomo tonight. Then he makes a decision; he is too high. Much to the astonishment of, well, everybody Boomo gently lowers himself down from the bottom rope with a small shake of his head and once his feet are back on solid ground he gathers himself for his big moment. His body contorts on the spot as he screams 'BOOOOOOOM' out into the open air, apparently not the slightest bit embarrased by his choice to get off the ropes, and gets a decent 'oooooooo' back at him. A lot of fans aren't sure what to think of Boomo in this moment but another large proportion can't get enough of his fear of heights and there is a big pop when he jumps on the spot and hurtles down towards his opponent with the biggest, most spectacular, unbelievable Splash ... from the canvas. Oh, and he misses, eats canvas and the entire arena groans in unison as if the very foundations of the building had swayed in disappointment. Boomo grabs at his face as Donovan climbs to his feet having rolled out the way and pushes Boomo in the face with the toe of his boot as if checking for vitals signs. The calm face of neutrality doesn't slip from KD's face as he steps back across the ring and tags Kenny Shaw back into the match so he can catch his breath as Mokoto Sakuraba watches on in frustration. The pair had their moment to take advantage of Boomo's counter measures and instead he had stood at the edge of glory and thrown their hopes into the abyss.
OOC: To be continued. Boomo and Shaw the legal men. Boomo on the floor having missed a splash, Shaw has just come back into the match.
Shaw gives his lady a wink and even apologizes for her not being able to get any ring time whilst Boomo finally starts to get up; turning over to his side and finally making a real effort to tag in Motoko. He reaches for her, arm stretched out as he starts to crawl; alerting Shaw who immediately springs back into action: jumping into the air and driving the sole of his boot into the lower back of Boomo and halts progress.
Shaw stomps on Boomo again in the same fashion; letting gravity assist the downward thrust. The group dichotomy becomes more apparent the more the two men work over Boomo. Kevin is the predator; singling out the weak, old, and slow and nipping at them until they lose their will and then finishing them off. Shaw is a classic scavenger: the cleaner of the team. He's the one that does the flashy moves and big spots; getting the pins more often than not. Whatever is left when Kevin is finished, Shaw gladly picks the bones.
El Boomo is no different. Circumstance saw his arm become become a target; it was Kevin that exposed it, worked it, prodded at it until Boomo could no longer defend himself: creating a pressure point should he find himself in peril. Now Shaw is going to be the cleaner. Kenny circles Boomo who is still trying to crawl to Ms. Saku; nonchalantly stepping on his hand to halt that progress. Shaw stares at him with a distant stare; studying the reaction as if the concept is alien to him. And in the blink of an eye knocks Motoko off the apron with a forearm and then runs back over to Boomo with a stomp to the skull.
Motoko has had enough. She immediately rolls into the ring, looking to retaliate against Shaw but she's cut off by Lucas Millar. She doesn't care, she tries to push past him; allowing Jenna to slip into the ring and but Boomo into a Camel Clutch. The flagrant cheating sends Motoko into a rage; screaming "baka" this and "busai" that and a "baku" or two but that doesn't keep Millar from trying to keep her in her corner. The distraction even allows Kevin to come in and he takes a seat behind Jett, back-to-back, and puts Boomo in a Boston Crab. The Catch U Kids whisper something to each other, instructions no doubt as in unison they stand: lifting Boomo off the canvas and folding him in half. As if things couldn't get worse for the guy, Kenny comes in and nails him with a superkick right between the eyes.
New Orleans groans, then oohs, then ohhhs, and then boos as Jett and Donovan let the Englishman splat to the canvas. The Siege basks in it, joining hands and taking a bow; because they're assholes. That bit of showmanship, while unappreciated by the majority, still finds a receptive audience who applauds in the minority. Jett and Kevin slip out unnoticed and Kenny goes back to hitting Boomo with big, jumping, stomps; like he'd been doing it this whole time. Millar finally reigns Motoko in and she gets in her corner, grabs the damn tag rope, and holds out her fucking hand so this son of a bitch can let her into the match.
Kenny turns back to Lady Mo, seeing if he can't get her to try and come in the ring again but Motoko averts he eyes from Shaw, looking right at her partner; not letting that insolent little shit get in her head. Kenny nods and walks back over to Boomo and like Jenn before him, takes a hard sit right on the small of his back. Kenny pulls back on the left arm, stretching it over his knee like one would to set up a Camel Clutch but then switches it up, turning slightly and planting his knee against the base of Boomo's neck as he wrenches back on the arm bar.
The crowd starts a clap rally, Motoko yells Japanese things at him, all signs point to Boomo either escaping or giving up. Boomo holds his free hand up, hovering it over the canvas to signal for the submission if need be but instead it takes on a life of its own, rallying more crowd support for the poor bastard to whom it happens to be attached. The claps grow, as do the chants of "Boom-O! Boom-O!" which Jett on the outside tries to co-opt into a "Ho-Mo! Ho-Mo!" chant that isn't nearly as catchy. The spirit of New Orleans infects Boomo and with one arm pushes himself and Kenny up off the canvas with near supernatural strength. Kenny keeps his footing and traps Boomo's arm in his armpit with a standing key lock. Boomo gets to a knee and with his free hand clobbers Shaw in the jaw. Another heavy bomb rocks Shaw and sends him reeling into the ropes. "For the love of fuck, tag out." hopes everyone, while Boomo presses his advantage just one second longer. He grabs Kenny by the wrist and whips into the far ropes, he ducks forward... way ahead of schedule and Kenny dives over with a sunset flip; catching Boomo by the legs and taking him down but the Brit rolls back to his feet: popping up and sending a pair of boots to the chin of the Minister of Propaganda.
Both men are down, Kevin reaches for Shaw, Motoko for Boomo. Kenny and Boomo revive and come to the same conclusion of "get the hell out," which is more than a relief for those who have been watching El Boomo for these past few minutes. Shaw crawls to Kevin and El Boomo crawls to Sakuraba. The crowd is on edge as they push up a few feet from their destination, both dive forward and now it's going down.
[TBC - Legal: Motoko Sakuraba and Kevin Donovan. Hot Tag]
The Annual Matthew Logan Award for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Technical Excellence
A Little Inspiration
Classic
Trisha aka "Breadquanda," May 8 2014
04:19 AM
All white people do is listen to "dont stop believing" and break iphones
Donovan had been baiting the hook all night. Poking the beehive, teasing the dog. All proverbially speaking. And now, with two hot tags, Kevin Donovan stood before Motoko Sakuraba, the target of his antagonism. Motoko scowled, rolling her shoulders before her eyes leered and her lips tugged upwards at the edges. Moving in like a curve ball, Motoko arced an inward course at Donovan full throttle.
Back stepping fast, Donovan showed off some of that fabulous footwork learned at Catch U, learned at the foot of Matthew Logan himself. God, the boy moved just like him sometimes.
How often had people slipped and called him Logan?
But no, Donovan was still his own animal, his own subgroup of technical and douche. He'd conquered the last couple Asians he'd encountered. Haruna Urashima he killed in the ring like a small dog. He'd taken the X-Division title from the most famous Asian of PRW in Takato Kazama. This Rice-a-roni bitch from the armories wasn't going to cause him pause.
Donovan shot in now with reaching arms, and the Japamazon narrowly darted clear, both competitors spiraling in turn to an about face. They dropped into crouches, vaulted forward, collided, and No Quarter sent the Osakan Hit-Woman rolling across the mat promptly there after.
Motoko spilled to the mat by the Arm Drag kept rolling through off the momentum, popping up into a swift trot into the ropes, rebounding back at No Quarter. Donovan dropping down to either pitch her up or avoid her offense altogether. In reaction, Motoko went to her knees, skidding down before Donovan. Hand held to her chest, she extended it out palm up again, and when the Logan Understudy looked up, she slapped him hard across the face.
Crowd oohing, Donovan recoiling and holding his cheek, Motoko stood and with the same hand flipped the bird. She brought the extended middle finger to her right eye and pulled down the bottom lid, sticking her tongue out at her opponent when he turned about.
The crowd popped for the Hired Gun for the first time that night. Not too big, but appreciative none the less. Donovan fumed as Motoko sunk into a Kamae stance, arms out in front of her, anticipating Donovan. Donovan circled in.
Brunswick: If that wasn't blatantly laying down the gauntlet, I don't know what was!
Smith: Motoko has some moxie in her to do that to PRW's resident Triple Crown, but whether it was wise? I doubt it!
Tsukes: Tools are rarely sensible, they just want to get jammed up in all sorts of business...
Brunswick: I'm not sure how to take that remark, Tsukes.
Tsukes: What I'm saying is that the only difference between Motoko and say something like a monkey wrench or a prostitute is that she doesn't have Craftsman tatooed on her ass and she tends to shower on a regular basis.
Brunswick: Ah, thanks for the clarification on that...
The Triple Crown snapped out a fast Round Kick at Motoko's legs, coming up against a counter Round Kick from the Offered Hand. Donovan went to the well again, sweeping another one in and finding it checked. Kick pads a godsend, the two start Soccering each others in-steps, ankles and calves with a flurry of low aimed Roundhouses. Kick countered and fired and countered in turn, the two are soon locked in a leg war.
Abandoning legs, Motoko C-stepped in to brush aside another of Donovan's Round Kicks and led with an open palmed Jab. Donovan blocked it out with a forearm and drove sideways with a Muay Thai Elbow that Motoko Chopped aside, Elbowing back at in at him. Donovan countered with an Elbow Strike and the two backed away from one another a couple paces. They circled and stared daggers, sweat beading from their brows as Motoko massaged her chopping hand and Donovan his elbow.
The crowd couldn't help it.
They popped ample for the borderline Chop Sake flick moment. It was like Sonny Chiba verses Tony Jaa...only in a wrestling ring, and in New Orleans.
Hands out before her, left low right high, knees bent slightly, Motoko stopped circling and centered into another Kamae before she stepped in at Donovan like a bolt of Pacific lightning, initiating a Collar Elbow Lock-up with the heavier man, banking on her slight height advantage to give her an edge on the leverage front.
No dice.
Donovan dropped stance, and weight, sinking low for a quick lift after a Go-Behind transition. Motoko went up and over, crashing flat on her back as Donovan bridged the Suplex for a pin. Millar rushed in and laid down the count.
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
The thoroughbred in Donovan had to set the boundaries for "Eastern Promises", let her know that slapping him came with repercussions, that stepping into the ring with him garnered the same regardless. Motoko needed to be educated, and Catch U's curriculum was Wrestling Common Core! Motoko rolled clear of the kickout, and Donovan was up and at her in a blink.
Barely in a squat, Motoko was forced to not think so much as react, dropping back to the mat and scissoring No Quarter's ankles, pitching him face first into the mat. But Donovan caught himself with his hands, bringing his feet beneath him and standing. When he turned about, it was right into a sidling Motoko, hooking under her arm while jamming her hip into his inner thigh. With a flicking of her hips, Motoko tossed Donovan to the canvas, who, rolled onto his feet, sprang up and rounded on Motoko fast.
Motoko rushed in, cutting him off and hugging his waist. She cried out with a Joshi scream and pitched backwards with Donovan.
Back to the mat, face staring into the arena lights, Donovan felt the stiffening tension Motoko applied throughout her body to set the bridge. Millar comes in quick again, kneeling down and slapping the mat for another count.
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
Donovan rolled clear of the kickout and stood. Again, the two are scowling daggers into each other. Sweatier now, and flushed, both competitors look sideways at their partners and start walking to their respective corners, Motoko rubbing the small of her back as she went, looking strained. They checked each other with side glances, but it seemed they were parting amicably enough...
Brunswick: That may have been the cleanest, most respectful exchange in the match so far tonight. Muay Thai meeting Ronin Goju in an explosive collision!
Smith: Even I'm a little shocked, Brunny. I expected a lot more eye gouging, fish-hooking and all around tom-fuckery...and there you have it, clean!
Tsukes: This is bullshit! I expected better from both those two!
Donovan came to Shaw after another over the shoulder glance and held out his hand. Shaw reached out, but could tell by his partner's demeanor that the effort seemed forced and half hearted. This was all being postured. Last second, Donovan reeled about and charged.
Surprisingly, Motoko had done the same.
The crowd spiked verbally as both came into inexorable contact. Neither expecting the other to do the same, they were committed to their respective assaults so much so that aborting them became impossible. Motoko in sideways spring through the air, turning for a Heel Kick, and Donovan pitching into his Flying Knee.
Both met chest to chest and crashed down in a heap to the mat. The crowd cringed and groaned in their seats.
Rolling away from their person to person equivalent of a fender bender, Donovan and Sakuraba hugged their respective midsections, gasping for breath and seething from vision whiting pain. Motoko banged her forehead repeatedly to the canvas when she rolled onto her stomach, getting her knees beneath her. Donovan, having a wider sense of awareness from being a practiced ring general immediately righted himself with a roll, aiming himself towards his corner and a reaching Shaw.
The two started to stand, but Motoko had to turn about to find her corner, halting her progress up. Donovan made his tag fast, and Shaw shot off like a rocket. Motoko is reaching for her tag when Shaw T-Bones her in the side with a tackle that takes them both to the mat. The Siege's natural chemistry and unspoken communication is proving to be pivotal. Where El Boomo and Motoko have to try and get on the same page, Donovan and Shaw have been on the same page writing stanzas since before the bell rang.
Smith: Honestly. I'm surprised they're doing this good...
Brunswick: The Siege is laying, well, siege to PRW for a reason; they're accomplished, heavily experienced wrestlers each! Hell, Jenna Jett alone has some serious entries on her resume alone! The fact that two born yesterdays are still holding their own after the six minute mark is astounding!
Tsukes: Sakuraba is a good kid...don't know what the Hell is going through the Limey-dore's head, but I just get this feeling that he's going to do something really cool all of a sudden!
Smith: Willing to place a bet?
Tsukes: Ten bucks?
Smith: On the table!
Shaw is putting boots to back on Motoko, working her into the carpeting like gum. After some heel grinding, Shaw smiled at the crowd, doing a fast taunt before dragging Saku up by her hair and uppercutting a Forearm into her jawline. He proceeded to hammer Motoko back in a corner too far, keeping her away from any potential tag. Shaw leaned his weight in, shoulder to collar bone on the Japamazon and whipped her clear.
Before the let go, Motoko short-armed the affair, twisting back around on Shaw and driving a knee home to his stomach. Shaw gasped and buckled at the waist, wide open for Motoko to Chop his chest, eliciting the Ric Flair Woooing from the crowd. Backing Shaw into the corner now, Motoko grabbed the top rope for balance with both hands and battered away at Shaw's torso with her right knee. She screamed, perhaps, the only words she knew in English.
Motoko: ME! SO! SORRY!
Motoko whipped him into the opposite corner before Millar could get to five in his count, following in fast, she buried a knee into Shaw as soon as his back found the pads. Motoko grabbed the top rope, and sent some more knees to Shaw's core.
Motoko: ME! SO! SORRY!
A small portion of the crowd actually echoed a chant, parroting her antics as Motoko hooked Shaw's head and led him out of the corner with a Front Face-lock, falling backwards for a DDT that laid out one half of the Siege in the center of the ring, isolating him from the corners and aprons.
Motoko's face looked weary now, weathered. It was time for her to get clear and see if her partner, who was hopefully a bit fresher than he was before, could capitalize on all her handiwork. It was bought at high cost, so it wouldn't do to waste it.
Coming to her partner, she stared at him intently, almost untrusting. Her hand paused mid slap, not meeting El Boomo's hand. She hesitated, breathed, and finally slapped Boomo's palm while shouting, El Kama! Boomo stepped in and Motoko stepped out. The ball was in his court now, and his to dribble out.
El Boomo enters the fray with a newfound gusto, having been allowed several minutes of rest, and with much of the heavy lifting done by his partner. Motoko steps out of the ring to the apron while Boomo stalks Shaw, pulling him to his feet and grabbing him around the waist. Shaw is in no mood to "razzle dazzle" or "pizzazz" anything and clocks the challenger in the jaw with a back elbow. The sudden elbow to the face grants Shaw his freedom before Kenny kicks over his shoulder; twisting in the air to hit Boomo with the boomerang kick. Kenny covers, hoping the 1-2 shot would do its trick and retain the tag titles.
One.
Two.
The Reading Luchador gets the shoulder up.
Kenny pulls El Boomo up to his feet and takes him over with a snapmare, applying a reverse chinlock. Kenny looks around and surveys the situation. Motoko is reeling from her exchange with Kevin still but still fresh enough to cause some problems as evidence by her kicking the crap out of him. Kevin isn't so fresh and clean either, holding his ribs from the offensive barrage. During his analysis, Shaw doesn't notices Boomo working to his feet. He gets to a knee with Shaw and drives both of them to their feet. He throws a few elbows to the gut of Kenny Shaw, backing him into the ropes and firing him off. He swings for the fences with a clothesline that's easily ducked under and Kenny jumps to the middle rope. Boomo turns as Shaw springboards back looking for a Shaw Stunner and ducks away; Kenny showing off a little now with a backflip into the ring. Boomo swings again with a lariat attempt that is ducked a second time, this time the consequence being a thrust kick from Kenny to the gut of Boomo; knocking him back into the corner.
Kenny charges in at the ginger but ends up getting backdropped onto the apron. Boomo, recalling this scenario from earlier, goes on the offensive with Shaw; attempting a shoulder thrust after hitting the ropes and blind tag from Sakuraba. Boomo ducks through the ropes, looking to knock off Shaw but Kenny leapfrogs the attempt, twisting his legs into a Rocker Dropper against the ropes. Motoko stays on the warpath, pulling Kenny up by his hair after reaching over the top rope. Kenny desperately threads his arms around Motoko's and grabs her by the back of the head, pulling her neck-first across the top rope with a hot shot as he drops off the apron. Motoko slingshots back into the ring as Kenny rolls in and tags back in Kevin.
While Millar sees Boomo to his corner, Kevin throws low kicks the back and legs of Sakuraba as she crawls on the canvas; leading her into a corner. Motoko sits upright against the bottom rope and Kevin peppers her body with lightning quick round kicks. He pulls her up to her feet and hooks her around the waist as he hooks the leg. He gets low with a lift and drops back with a T-Bone Suplex that sends Motoko halfway across the ring and still rolling until she reaches the other corner. Kevin hangs back waiting for her to stand before running in with a head of steam. Motoko sees him coming this time and leans against the ropes; getting both feet up to the face of the Triple Crown winner. Motoko grabs Donovan around the waist and Kevin swings with a back elbow; completely missing his mark and spinning in place before Sakuraba bridges back with a release Northern Lights Suplex into the corner. Kevin's legs hit the top rope, seesawing him into a faceplant against the canvas. Kevin rolls to the floor following the drop and the Japamazon sees an opportunity present itself.
She steps through the ropes as Kevin lays prone and faces away from him. She checks her landing and with elegance and grace dives back into an arch, flipping onto the downed Kevin Donovan with a moonsault. While the maneuver is met with a share of fanfare, it did no favors to Saku or her beaten midsection. She rolls off of Kevin and right into the path of Kenny Shaw who takes advantage of the ref's preoccupation by running the ropes and setting up a dive. He closes in and slingshots over the ropes, holding on to land on the apron and fake out Motoko who runs to the railing to dodge the attack. She turns back just in time to see Kenny flip off of the top rope from a seated position and barely has time to protect her head as Shaw comes at her with an Arabian Plancha.
3 out of 4 are down and that leaves El Boomo who steps into the ring much to the delight of the crowd. At this point they're just pulling for him; hoping he conquers that fear that keeps holding him back from reaching his true potential. He leans against the ropes for some spring and charges at Shaw. He's in his sights and repeats to himself "It's not that far." He closes in and just as Kenny gets his hands up to catch, Boomo chickens out: holding onto the middle rope and falling through to the apron before letting himself down gently and jumping at Kenny Shaw with a running avalanche. It was close enough and the crowd gives him a roar of approval: maybe he'll get him next time. During all the commotion, nobody really noticed Kevin slipping back into the ring and running the ropes all of a sudden. Boomo turns as Kevin dives under the middle rope, ingenious to Boomo as a "stepping stone" to his potential dives in the future, but detrimental as Donovan clobbers him with an elbow to the jaw.
Kevin pulls Motoko up and rolls her in the ring before assisting Kenny to his feet and Shaw following her in. Mo is on autopilot, attacking the first thing she sees and that happens to not be the legal participant. She hammers on him before pulling him up with a front facelock and gets tagged with a massive high round kick to the back of the head. Kenny spins out with the wristlock and pulls her into an airplane spin. Around and around, Kenny goes, where he stops, it's when Kevin times a second round kick to the head of Motoko as she was being taken for a spin. Kenny lets her slump to the canvas and slips to the apron as Kevin goes for the pin.
One.
Two.
Boomo pulls Kevin out of the ring!
El Boomo immediately floors Donovan in the metaphorical sense with a huge haymaker to the jaw; literally knocking him back against the railing. When Kenny goes to pull Boomo off, the enraged Limey turns and clocks him one as well. Boomo is a house of fire until Shaw rakes the eyes; sending him into retreat. Kenny turns as Motoko vaults over the top rope; sailing through the air. Thinking fast, Kevin shoves Kenny out of the way and catches her with a modified version of the Press Kick. Motoko crumbles from the blow and the boys roll her back into the ring.
Millar is preoccupied with the 2-on-1 in the ring, and doesn't pay much attention to the outside where a blinded Boomo turns just as Jenna Jett bee lines right for him and cuts him down with a surprise spear; the back of Boomo's head hitting the guard rail. No, in the ring Lucas counts as Kenny scales to the top turnbuckle and Kevin puts Motoko in a front facelock following a tag. Kevin hooks the tights of the Offered Hand and hoists her up, stalling for a moment, before falling back with a massive spike brainbuster into the canvas. He rolls out of the ring, stopping the DQ count, as Shaw dives off the top rope with his elbow pointed at the heart of Motoko Sakuraba and connects with the Shawshank. Kenny holds on for the cover.
[FINISH ATTEMPT Shenanigans into a Brainbuster and The Shawshank]
The Annual Matthew Logan Award for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Technical Excellence
A Little Inspiration
Classic
Trisha aka "Breadquanda," May 8 2014
04:19 AM
All white people do is listen to "dont stop believing" and break iphones