nBW SLAM! Episode IV

RaVage	Versus	Callie Urban

Hardcore Pick Your Poison Match

Time for a family reunion, so to speak. Callie Urban is home at nbW and her first match back is against the man going up against Ali Amore for the world title. A man that was with the company back when Callie broke her neck, a former hardcore champ, a twisted, sick man that has stated he wants nothing more than to beat Callie out of the arena and send her packing her bags bag to whatever podunk hole she crawled out of.

RaVage.

Unfortunately for RaVage, he’s going to have his hands full. Urban wasn’t sitting at home eating bon bons during her absence. No, she’d been competing all over the world, picked up a few other title reigns, nearly killed herself again in the process and was back and ready to kick ass and take names.

‘Poker Face’ by Lady Gaga once more booms out and here is Callie, bouncing out of the gate, fired up, sprinting down to the ring and sliding underneath the ropes in a smooth motion, entering the ring. She springs up immediately with her fist in the air and runs and leaps on top of the turnbuckles, pointing to the crowd as they cheer.

'Wanted Man' by Rev Theory plays out moments later as the hardcore sensei, RaVage hulks out, shoulders squared, cracking his neck, scowl on his face. In his ego-induced confidence, he has made the match not only a 15 minute time limit, he let Callie goad him into declaring it a hardcore match up as well. That can only spell one thing.

Carnage.

RaVage hops into the ring and rolls his shoulders, limbering up while Callie takes off her leather coat and taps both boots to the mat. The ref checks with both of them and raises his hand high in the air. As he drops it, the bell sounds.

DING
DING
DING

RaVage surges forward, making the first move. He’s obviously studied Callie’s strategy as he takes her off guard before she can react, knowing she normally always tries to draw first blood.

SLAP

He bitchslaps her across the face, sending her reeling back several steps, clutching her cheek and jaw. RaVage beats his chest with his left fist and yells, taunting both Callie and the crowd. He goes to hit a running clothesline from behind when Callie ducks out of the way. He immediately corrects and turns around to see Urban staring at him, eyes blazing.

Whoops. Bright move, buddy.

Callie moved to lunge at him and RaVage braced himself for impact. When nothing happened he looked up, right into a thumb to the eye. Hardcore rules, thems the breaks.

Urban dropped down and kicked his legs out from under him, latched onto his left arm and locked in an armbar. Torquing back, she placed her knee on his head and began grinding it down into the mat. RaVage managed to worm out of the hold and threw Urban off, pinwheeling his arm gingerly. When she charged him again, he was near enough to the turnbuckles that a drop toe hold later, she had a face full of them.

Grabbing her hair while she was stunned momentarily, he backed up with her several steps then took a running start, throwing her in front of him like a javelin, ramming her shoulder into the steel post. Urban yelled in pain and rolled out of the ring to the outside.

RaVage hopped out after her, picked her up and hurled her into the barricade. The crowed ooh’ed on impact and Urban crumpled to the floor. Not done by a long shot, RaVage picked her up by the legs and lifted her up so she was barely supporting herself with her arms. Swinging back and forth, he built up momentum and soon, Callie was swinging in the air.

He slammed her into the barricade, head first. Then he did again and again and again. After the fourth hit, when Callie dangled from the hold, unmoving, he backed up, still holding her legs, ignoring the jeers of the crowd.

Backing up far enough, he turned around and swung her one more time. Right into the steel steps. Dropping her limp form, he beat his chest again before dragging her up by the hair and rolling her into the ring.

Callie Urban’s big return looked like it was about to end in a supernova of disappointment.

Dropping down for the cover, RaVage hooked a leg and the ref started the count.

ONE
TWO
THR-

NO!

Urban threw a shoulder up. Looks like there’s some fight left in her after all.

RaVage sneered and rolled her up for a cover again.

ONE
TWO

KICKOUT

Growling, he dragged her up by her hair again and threw her into the turnbuckles. He paced like a lion stalking it’s prey as she sagged against them, barely holding herself up.

Grinning he lunged forward and slapped her in the face again. Her her whipped to the side, but she didn’t react. So he slapped her a second time. Still barely a reaction. Outside the ring the crowd jeered as RaVage continued to toy with her.

A third slap and she slumped forward, head lolling on her chest. RaVage grinned and reared back and spit on her, the ultimate insult. Still no reaction. The crowd became restless, murmuring to themselves. Was the ref going to let this go on? Was Callie’s best friend, the stalwart of nbW, Spike Saunders going to let this go on?

Apparently it would go on until RaVage either pinned her, or until the clock ran out. Ten minutes left.

RaVage smiled, reared back, and punched her square in the boob.

Callie dropped down to the mat, clutching her chest as RaVage laughed. He lifted his leg to kick out at her when it was stopped with one hand. His grin faltered as he looked down. Callie lashed out and kicked his other leg out from under him. Keeping hold of his right leg, she rolled out from the ring and dragged him to the post. Grabbing his other leg, she stepped behind the post and, before he could kick her away, fell backward, driving RaVage’s nuts into steel.

The crowd roared and Callie let go. RaVage curled in a little ball inside the ring, while Callie stomped about on the outside, waving for the bell keeper and an other official to get up. She then collapsed both of their chairs and trunched back to the ring, throwing the steel contraptions over the ropes, narrowly missing RaVage’s head.

Eyes still blazing, she rolled in under the ring and laid on of the chairs out as RaVage began to stir. A quick punch to the nads and he once again curled into himself. Dragging him along, she placed his head on top of one of the chairs and picked the other one up, holding it high over her head. The crowd cheered, anticipating what was about to happen.

CONCHAIRTO!

RaVage’s body twitched and spasmed after the steel crashed his cranium, and Callie ignored the ref, placing his battered head back onto the chair again.

CONCHAIRTO!

CONCHAIRTO!

Throwing the chair away, Callie kicked RaVage in the gut before shoving the referee out of her way and leaving the ring. Her face was livid, a bright red and she looked like she was almost foaming at the mouth.

Walking up the ramp, she made no move to return to the ring. Instead she stomped up to the entrance, raised her fist for the audience and walked backstage.

Urban was gone. RaVage was KO’d. The ref had no choice but to declare the match a draw.

The moral of the story of RaVage? Don’t ever hit a lady in the boob.

Outcome:	Draw

Spike Saunders	Versus	Ali Amore

Pick Your Poison Match

“As you can see with the Battle Royale, the result was unclear. Even days after the event we still have yet to uncover any further news on who was the winner. Many say Zed was the last to touch, while those at ringside state they saw him touch the mat first. The two camera angles provided show Keegan and Zed hitting at the same moment, and Keegan and AMP hitting at the same moment.”

Trent sat back and crossed his arms.

“I am sure we will hear more on this result in the coming weeks. It’s been a hell of a show so far – but we’re not finished yet. Two weeks before the biggest match of his life, Ali Amore has to face the biggest man in No Brand Wrestling – Spike Saunders. If you remember, the two men had a match back in January with J. Leslie Voss as referee. Thaddeus Prometheus Boyle said that if Spike didn’t win the match, he’d never again receive a shot at the world title…

(Video footage shows Spike manhandling the then-champion effortlessly and later, JLV slow-counting.)

“Spike looked set to take Ali’s belt away from him but Voss denied him the opportunity by apparently declaring the time limit had expired.”

(The finish is shown as Trent describes it.)

“Tonight though, there was no championship on the line and no Voss as special guest referee. Just an honest battle between the two most popular singles stars on the roster. Sit back and enjoy. From everyone in nbW, thanks for watching. I’m Trent McKnight.”

The big screen lit up and already the momentum and the cheers from the fans were evidence enough while the announcers provided the setting.

ROLL CLIP

Marc Gordon: “Spike must wonder what he has to do to put this young man away.”

Terry Renton: “It’s a pity they can’t pin each other. I don’t want either of them to win.”

Saunders lifted Amore up off the canvas and scored with a head butt, which made Amore stumble back into the corner. Spike lashed him with three hard rights and then set him up for an Irish Whip, which he negotiated without any resistance…

CRASH!

That was Ali’s chest hitting the top turnbuckle hard.

Spike fell on top of the 24-year-old for the cover…

1

2

He then lifted him up into the Chokebomb position and that also proved to be successful, also leading straight into another pinning predicament…

Another 2-count.

No Brand Wrestling’s answer to BFG was in complete control here, effortlessly overpowering Amore, who besides a couple of spots in the opening sequences, hadn’t been able to utilise his scintillating speed and aerial-based offence. Speaking of which, he was now up in the air, thought not of his own accord…

Things were fixed to get a whole lot worse before they got any better as Saunders took a handful of the Colombian’s long locks to drag him up and then drilled him with a DDT.

Spike was doing what he wanted with the breakout star.

To emphasise his strength and dominance, he hauled Ali back up again, who was already breathing hard and heavily, and with one grab of the tights effortlessly elevated the challenger into the air, an awesome exhibition of power and a signal that he could do whatever he wanted to this boy, who was nowhere near him in terms of physical or professional stature, and after ten seconds of showing off, not an act you’d associate with Torment, he put the promising prospect out of his misery with a technically-sound suplex.

Two count.

However, after a simple step back and bouncing off the ropes, Torment took the piss by demonstrating that he also has agility in his arsenal with a Legdrop that had very impressive hang time for such a large individual.

1

2…

Ali was really up against it here. Saunders was walking this one and well ahead on the metaphorical scorecards. Ali had looked quick and prosperous when dazzling the 7-footer with a flurry of fists in the early going but that seemed a long time ago, even if in reality it was a matter of minutes.

1

2

Gordon exclaimed: “Amore will not stay down!”

Rents quipped: “That’s because he’s too stupid to stay down.”

Marc said: “I disagree. He’s got a lot of heart, courage and class. Words that clearly don’t belong in your vocabulary.”

Renton always had something to say: “But he hasn’t got a brain or he’d know to stay down. You can’t live with a freak like Spike Saunders when he’s in this type of mood. He maims people and Amore’s got a world title match next week. Well, he won’t make it there at this rate. It’s his own fault anyway. Everyone in the world thinks seven is their lucky number. Look what it’s done for him. It’s going to cost him his title.”

The giant played up to the crowd and there was speculation, primarily from the commentator’s desk, that he was looking for his patented move – Spiked! – and the fans also sensed it. Time was nigh and their favourite superstar was cruising towards a victory, a much-needed one at that after losing to Lunatic a fortnight ago.

Spike was up again and looking to make Ali pay for his audacity but an Irish Whip into the corner wasn’t followed up in the manner it should have been as Saunders stuttered towards Ali Amore and you just couldn’t do that where the Colombian was concerned. Subsequently, he missed with big boot badly, and by the time he turned around, Saunders was susceptible to the one move that could take anyone, anywhere, anyhow, anytime down to the ground…

Guaranteed.

CHOP BLOCK!

What a tide-turner.

Some fans applauded, while others booed. Other sections stood still. They were watching a wrestling match between two of the brightest lights in the company, both at different stages and ages. Spike was a veteran, who had experience all over the world and Ali was seemingly heading that way. They were totally different in every way but they were united by talent, popularity and an unrelenting desire to win. Spike had shone in this encounter, owning it completely. Now, others felt it was the South American starlet’s turn to showcase what he could do.

Amore dropped a knee onto that of his opponent’s and dragged the cut-down redwood over to the ropes where he brought his body down onto Spike’s left leg, who was doing what he could to try and stop the renowned speed merchant from dissecting the limb. It was unusual for the risk-taker to adopt a strategic stance, a tried and trusted formula over time that helped wrestlers win at the expense of bigger men than themselves, but maybe he had listened to his experienced mentor, Keegan, after all and it had served him well in his previous matches against Torment, whom he defeated to win the world championship against on Memorial Day, and his first defence against the technically sound Mark Mercury. Would it also be a case of third time lucky here tonight too?

Any aspirations Amore had of building any momentum were again as Saunders cut him off by ramming his enormous boot into Ali’s temple, leaving the livewire performer in a heap and back at square one. Foolishly, or maybe due to the beating he had taken that led him to make such an elementary mistake, Amore neglected to tie the titan up.

Saunders was taking his toll on the ex-champion, who had a golden and glorious opportunity next week. Maybe Rents was right. With the match against RaVage, arguably the biggest of his career, certainly since Memorial Day a year ago, in mind Amore could just take a fall, one blemish on his record. It wouldn’t be a disgrace to lose to the tallest man on the roster, would it?

He wasn’t listening to me. Then again, he was getting his ass handed to him.

Meanwhile, Saunders appeared to be intoxicated as he surprisingly elected to leave his comfort zone and head to the outside and climb up onto the top turnbuckle. Everyone was stunned, but they all rose to their feet. This was one of the summer’s must-see events. Surely, if Spike hit whatever he had in mind it would be curtains for Amore, not only regarding tonight but possibly Slam 5! He couldn’t afford to withstand much more punishment, let alone absorb all of Spike’s bodyweight from a great height. Ali, well a conscious one, would be well aware of the consequences, given his tendency to fly to get by.

It took Spike twice as long to get to the second rope as it would for Ali to ascend to the top level, which isn’t an insult incidentally but a testament to the Colombian’s quickness and let’s face it, I need to big him up in some way and hand him the occasional compliment because he hasn’t done much since you started reading…

Spike stood aboard the top rope, like the Empire State Building owning New York’s skyline, and took off but he had a crash landing as, and I’m sure most of the fans knew, Ali rolled out of the way in time. It would have been curtains if he’d endured that.

Saunders seemed to be struggling for breath, oxygen visibly leaving his body upon impact, and he was trying to pump some more back into those massive lungs of his. The Superstar of Bogota had taken a beating up until this point. Was this his way back into the bout?

As Spike stood up, Ali was also stirring, but also apparently weighing up different possibilities if the close-up on his face revealed anything. Suddenly, the South American dove in and took a leg, holding it on for dear life, but Saunders wasn’t going to move. Finally, with Ali refusing to release the pressure, it was Spike who finally buckled as he crashed to the ground. From there, Amore set him up for a good, old-fashioned Figure 4…

Except Spike used his free foot to kick the Colombian straight over the top rope.Amore must’ve been ready for it as he grabbed the bottom rope, skinned the cat and did a 360 back in. Spike also read this and kicked out again, but Ali side-stepped it and dropped a hard elbow to the inside of his opponent’s leg, kicked him in the face and then put the Figure 4 on as intended.

To cut a long story short, Ali held the move for approximately half a minute yielding a couple of quick 2-counts to remind Spike to keep his shoulders up. Then, just as the big man was about to try a reversal, Ali fought it and they both rolled into the ropes.

Thereafter, Ali kept Spike near the ropes and dropped a couple of bombs, using his whole body weight to crash into the huge specimen’s softened-up pin. He then brought the behemoth back into the centre of the ring, who wasn’t giving this up without a fight, but Amore kept him at bay with three stomps to the point of the knee.

With Saunders cut down to size, it was time for Ali to adopt his second strategy…

Come on, this wouldn’t be an Ali Amore match without high-risk.

Ali was gaining confidence. Maybe he was too confident but he had to try. Keegan had warned him to slow down in order to prolong his career, a ridiculous sentiment at 23 surely, though one that should be considered. Next week, he would try and lift his second world championship. However, he had to get there first. He was adopting a ‘kill or be killed attitude…’

SMACK!

And it looked like it was going to be the latter.

After leaping off the top rope, much to the fans’ appreciation, Amore ate a size 20+ boot for his main course.

Instinctively, Spike opted to go for his umpteenth attempt at winning this match…

One…

Two…

Three.

Except, it wasn’t

Amore had kicked out – AGAIN.

The audience, who were supporting Spike whole-heartedly and had angrily greeted Amore at the outset of the evening, realised in that instance why they had – or rather still – loved this young man. Sure, he’d lost the title and he was up against their very own Spike Saunders, the single most popular athlete in the history of the company, but he was giving up some thirteen inches and well over a hundred pounds yet he was taking what the titan could take, not through choice it must be said, and kicking out every time he was being counted out, literally by the referee and figuratively by the fans.

Saunders hadn’t been on the receiving end for long but now he wanted to end it. He sensed the end was nigh as he shot Ali into the ropes, but Ali came back off the ropes with renewed vigour as he avoided contact with the colossus that surely would’ve been fatal and went back to the drawing board with another chop block. Amore rolled out of harm’s way to the apron, breathing heavily, feeling the effects of this pre-requisite, prior to his meeting with RaVage. Spike was back on his feet and stood up, once again foolishly running towards Amore, who ducked and pulled the ropes down, sending Spike to the concrete floor in a heap, a clever but cheap move that garnered some heat from the fans. He didn’t care at this point and was growing into his designated role of heel, even if it was only for one night.

Somehow, the South American starlet summoned the strength, call it instinct or the presence of mind, whatever you want, and Spike was rolling around on the floor in agony, clutching his left leg and knee too. The official began to count both men but after taking a beating, it was Ali who got to his feet first and he stood on the apron, patiently awaiting for the dominant challenger, who was clearly limping as he barely managed to stand up, not that it was the case for too long…

Ali came up with a risky dropkick of his own, setting off from the apron and accurately targeting Spike’s vulnerable limb. It was an excellent decision, especially at what could be the business phase of this encounter.

Ali then took Spike’s endangered limb to a neutral corner and paid a compliment to Canada’s finest…

FIGURE-FOUR ROUND THE STEEL POST!

Spike shook his head, as did Amore, but in totally different ways. Ali, perhaps pissed off by the fans, refused to break on five, only doing so when the official stepped outside to reprimand him for his defiance. Amore ignored him, looking rather coldly, and slithered back in. It seemed that this experience alone was toughening the kid up, worrying given his tender years and near year-long reign at the top.

He had a lease of life, much-needed and newly-discovered impetus, and decided to take his built-up annoyance and frustration on the sole reason of it by viciously whipping Saunders into the steel ring steps, knee-first, and surprisingly, the steps didn’t budge. It had summoned up all of his energy but the rewards had been reaped.

Understandably, Ali wasn’t deterred by the boos and he couldn’t afford to be. His championship aspirations were at stake so he kicked Saunders several times, all with a bulls eye on that left knee, each seemingly stiffer than the previous thump.

Being away from the battlefield didn’t seem to favour Ali, you’d think, but it was working in his favour at this point. Nevertheless, one more whip didn’t work as Saunders put the brakes on and gave the kid a stiff elbow to the throat. As the Colombian coughed, Spike got his breath back as well. When Amore ran towards him, he was ready and welcomed him into his arms, catching the twenty-something in his arms. To slow the starlet down, he spun him around and then rammed him into the steel corner spine-first, the same one that had taken its toll on the titan. Now, Amore knew how it felt.

‘AA’ was dead weight but that didn’t matter to Spike, arguably the strongest man on the roster. He supported the precocious prospect, though not in a way he appreciated or wanted, and dumped him back inside. Saunders draped an arm across…

1

2

Ali kicked out and got a round of applause for that. Spike appeared to be frustrated but not down-hearted.

Spike lifted Amore up and fired him into the buckle. However, Saunders made the silly mistake of playing his lighter, faster opponent at his own game, taking a miscalculated and ill-advised risk that didn’t pay off. His run only succeeded in squashing the turnbuckles, not the intended target, who had moved at least two seconds before. Cheekily, the South American used a schoolboy…

1

2

Nearly! He wasn’t put off. Spike was up but again was beaten to the punch, literally, and swung one of his own, clearly out of frustration and it missed by miles. Ali cut the colossal figure off with another boot to the weakened leg and then slapped on a sleeper for good measure. The aerial artist used to box smartly, now, finally, he was wrestling smartly too. He had taken a lot of abuse and now he was coming into his own, his great conditioning coming to the surface and the sleeper, despite only having 212 pounds behind it, was sufficient to put the giant to sleep.

He fought it, kicking and punching, but effectively he was clutching at thin air – figuratively and literally.

Ali, while not noted as being the most technically proficient performer, had this sunk in pretty neatly. It was startling to see someone so strong reduced to a limp state through a simple move, time immemorial, one as old as the sport itself.

Ali took the titanic figure to the mat with him and got his whole frame behind Saunders. Funnily enough, the fans also got behind him – but in a totally different way. It didn’t seem to have any effect as the official asked Spike something but the nbW symbol didn’t reply, or even flinch. The referee raised the arm and it went down – hard. A second one didn’t seem to be much of an improvement. Naturally, the third one woke the sleeping giant up and the fans popped as they saw their hero back up on his feet than Boris Becker donates sperm. He berated the Bogota-born star’s breadbasket with three elbows and that was more than enough to cause separation.

He ushered the ex-champion back up against the ropes and fired him into the opposing set, but Ali bounced off them and easily ducked underneath Spike’s clothesline attempt, making him pay with a shrewd dropkick downstairs, taking his weight from under him and regaining control of the contest.

The stage was set. Spike was on his back and the Superstar of Bogotá was going to fly. This was his moment, the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He stood up on the top perch, completely at home and confident. There weren’t many better fliers in the business than him. FROGSPLASH!

Except, he waited too long, maybe by a tad, as his landing was blighted by a raise of the legs, which probably served to hurt Saunders even more, but it had to be done and they also hurt Ali’s midriff, a bonus given the nature of Amore’s signature move.

The official started to count. He got up to seven when both men started to rise. That stopped when they were officially up at 8 and Spike denied Ali’s right hand with a block and one of his own. Ali was rocked but he still knew enough to hit Spike with a counter but after that he didn’t get a look in as Sanders spent him sprawling with another shot and then suddenly set him up for…

SPIKED!

Well, he would have hit that if it weren’t for the bell.

DING.

DING.

Saunders dumped Ali to one side for a moment, not hurting his opponent and had his hands on hips, looking perplexed and frustrated. He, along with an arena full of people, waited to hear the official word.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the official time limit of thirty minutes has expired. As a result, this contest must be ruled… A DRAW.”

The nbW faithful booed the decision and it was the second time that Ali Amore had been saved by the bell and managed a draw with Spike Saunders. The first time was very suspicious but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this ruling.

Nonetheless, Ali had had his ass handed to him again and Spike, as it always seemed to be recently, was screwed out of a significant victory.

A chant bellowed around the ringside area: “FIVE MORE MINUTES" CLAP CLAP CLAP "FIVE MORE MINUTES!”

Amore was up to his feet and silence fell upon the crowd as he clapped eyes of a disbelieving Saunders, who with his hands on head and mouth wide open, could’ve been blown over. To be fair to Ali, he was humble enough to realise he’d been saved again and visibly mouthed ‘Sorry’ to Spike and extended his hand. Saunders pointed to the fans and raised his hand, suggesting they should give them what they wanted.

Ali appeared to be confused but Saunders explained the situation to him and Amore gazed out at the crowd. He spat on the floor and then nodded his head. He was given a round of applause. He owed them and he owed Spike.

We were in overtime.

At that moment, Thaddeus emerged with a microphone: “I hate to do this but we went off air at the last edition of Slam. We really can’t afford to do that again. We really haven’t got five more minute to give you guys.”

Spike looked at Boyle, who quickly took off in the other direction, and smiled. He couldn’t quite believe it. Ali apologized, his hands outstretched and Spike told him it was ‘no problem.’ The pair hugged to a great pop. Any disdain they held for Ali seemed to be only for tonight, they were back onside and would probably be on his side in his quest to overcome RaVage.

Fortunately for him, he’d arrive there in one piece.

The Camera cut away to the backstage where RaVage stood next to the monitor watching. He was visibly upset that the Columbian was still close to 90%, having expected the giant to tear him to shreds befor their championship match. "Even ground it is then." he mumbled as he turned and walked away while the logo faded into view.

Outcome:	Time-Limit Draw

CREDITS

The New Format - Dan

Just Whom is the World Champion - Keegan

Landlocked - Scott

They call it Fishing... - Dan

The Creedes Gauntlet Match - Dusty

Wheels. In. Motion. II - K

And Ah Call it Catchin' - Dan

Impending Announcement - Keegan

Do you like Hype? - Keegan

Remember that old Fighting Federation? - Keegan

Showtime Versus Psycho - Scott

HoF'er Remembers - Keegan

Know who else Remembers? - Keegan

The Woman, The Giant, and the Cajun - Dusty/Kori/Dan

Your Thoughts Presented - Dusty

15 Man Battle Royale - Dusty

And what of the Keystone? - Dusty

RaVage Versus Callie Urban - Kori

Ali Amore Versus Spike Saunders - Keegan