Post by Press1269 on Feb 11, 2020 20:15:05 GMT
The stooges are suddenly caught of when the lights go dim as "Strangle Hold" by Ted Nugent begins to blare across the arena. Red strobe lights flicker all around the building, and finally settle on the entry way. When the song settles into the breakdown, Press strides out from behind the curtain with one half of the IPW Tag Team Championships draped over his shoulder and a steel chair in his hands. He stops at the top of the ramp to gaze intently out at the crowd while his partner, Youth, appears beside him wearing the other championship and shares his partners intensity. Definitely not his usual boisterous self. The two men don’t do any of their normal fanfare as they make their way down to the ring, all business.
Nelson: Everyone batten down the announce table! The BombTrax are here!
Crumb: Honestly, I’m surprised. They took quite the beating after their match thanks to the Queen Bee’s.
Rose: HEY! It was The BombTrax that walked out of that match with a win, not Asstrid and her idiot partner!
Nelson: Be that as it may, the men aren’t scheduled for competition here tonight, so one must wonder what all of this is about…
Press swings his massive leg over the top rope to enter the ring while Youth springboards right over it. Upon landing he walks towards the corner where the timekeeper’s table is and demands microphones which are promptly given. He tosses one to Press, who has unfolded the chair and now takes a seat in the center of the ring. He lifts the microphone but pauses as a cacophony of boos come his direction. As if a little irritated, the big man shrugs it off while Youth shakes his head behind him.
Press: I don’t know what you people are booing. Is it because we finally gave those high-faluting hussies, The Queen Bee’s, their first loss? Or is it because we sent Captain All-Star on a well-deserved retirement? Or maybe, just maybe, you’re booing because we aren’t booked on this show…
The boos intensify as Press leans back in the chair, a smirk on his lips.
Press: Well, nothing we can do about that kids. You see, that little number The Bee’s did to me at the end kept me from being cleared to wrestle. Concussion or some such. But don’t you worry, I’ll be good to go by next show, and after tonight, I’m sure all of you will be to. Cause if you haven’t figured it out, that’s exactly what is going to happen while we’re here in IPW. You all are going. To the hospital, to another promotion, to retirement, to the morgue. Doesn’t matter. You’re all going somewhere, and we promise you, if you don’t do it yourselves then we’re going to do it for you.
Press lets the mic drop while Youth lifted his behind him.
Youth: Finally.
He pauses, casting a sidelong glance at the crowd who seems to perk up a little at the more popular of the two.
Youth: Finally, someone around here gets it. I mean, we were freakin’ worried. Worried that we were just gonna come on in your house and run roughshod. I mean, we still haven’t heard anything out of the IPW Heavyweight Champion, Mike Mason, so there’s that. But what The Queen Bee’s did after they lost was exactly what we were looking for. A little resistance. A little payback. Someone to stand in the breach and say, ‘You shall go no futher!’
Youth lets out a laugh, coming to a pause to place a reaffirming hand on his partners shoulder.
Youth: Only…we’re still here.
He flashes a trademark boyish grin at the crowd.
Youth: See, after New Year’s, Who Dis? 2, we’re kind of hoping that the introductions are over. That we don’t have to keep rehashing the same old schtick. You know why we’re here, what we’re after, and what we’re willing to do to get it. But there will be time for all that later. Tonight, since we have an entire show on the sidelines, how about we try our hand at something different. I've always wanted to see what it was like to sit at the commentary table and call a match. What do you say, Press? Want to give it a try?
A wicked smile begins to creep onto Press’s face, and he starts to nod.
Press: NOW THAT…sounds like a plan.
Nelson: Wait…what?!?
Both men flip their microphones to the canvas which causes a god-awful screech to go off throughout the arena. The fans boo as the two men make to exit the ring, Press making sure to fold up his chair and take it with him for later.
Crumb: Uh..guys…they’re coming this way!
Rose: Are you kidding me? Is this fat bastard really going to try and…
Rose doesn’t get to finish her sentence before realizing that the other stooges have already abandoned her, and she quickly tosses her headset to the table before running after them. Press and Youth step around the commentator’s desk and take a seat to a chorus of boos. Press is the first to get his headset on, the poor mechanism being stretched to capacity.
Press: Hey, folks, we’re back live in Santa Monica…Geez, what the hell is wrong with this crowd?
Youth: I don’t know…a couple pricks have apparently taken over the place and they don’t seem happy about it.
Press: Whatever…HEY, TORRES! GET YOUR FAT ASS UP THERE AND DO YOUR JOB!
The ring announcer looks shocked at being barked at as he makes his way up the steps and into the ring. After collecting himself, he looks down at his cards and takes a deep breath.
Torres: The following contest is a TRIPLE THREAT debut match scheduled for one fall or submission…
The lights go down as the low opening drone of "Razorface" rumbles through the arena. Random pulses and strobes of light flare across the Tron and throughout the rafters, eventually centralizing to the center of the Tron as a white pulse that grows brighter and faster in time with the sonar-beep. This builds to a crashing synthetic dirge, accompanied by orchestral strings, that signals the arrival of David Smith: he paces slowly out onto the stage, garbed in featureless black boots, tights, and kick/knee/elbow pads, a similarly featureless black duster swirling behind him.
Torres: Introducing first, standing at six foot five and weighting in at 242 pounds, hailing from Omaha, Nebraska…He is DAVID GIDEON SMITHHH!!
Smith pauses at the top of the ramp, staring predatorily down at the ring. Then, after a moment, he starts down to the ring, not once breaking stride or acknowledging the crowd as he reaches the outside mats, ascends the steel steps, and enters through the ring ropes. He crosses the ring and goes up to the second turnbuckle, where he scans the crowd like a hawk before hopping down to the mat, removing and tossing the duster to the outside, and beginning to limber up.
Press: Have we seen this guy before?
Youth: I don’t know, but the way he just looked at the ring it made me a little uncomfortable. Like the way you look at a cheeseburger.
Press: HEY! Nothing should stand in the way of a man and his burger…
The fans are rabbid with cheers as the sound of ‘Raw Material’ by Deap Vally hits the PA system. Signs go up in the crowd welcoming the ‘Caustic Siren’ as she steps out onto the entrance stage. She’s wearing a vicious smirk.
“Get your hands off my raw material
It's up to me if I'm animal or mineral
Baby, don't take it too personal
But your behaviour is typical, typical”
Her stride is less that of a human and much more that of a predator. She moves slowly, slapping the outstretched hands of fans as she goes. Her focus, however, is on the ring.
Torres: Now making her way to the ring, standing at five foot eight and weighing in at 135 pounds, hailing from Tribeca, New York City, New York…She is THE CAUSTIC SIREN…SHYLA CLEMMENSSS!!
Methodically Shyla continues, smiling here and there, posing for selfies with a couple fans, until finally she finds herself at the ring steps.
“Get your hands off my raw material
It's up to me if I'm ethereal or visceral
These beats are so delectable it's criminal
Your attempts to change them, it is so pitiful”
She slowly climbs the ring steps and quickly slides in between the ropes. Once inside the ring, the lights dazel fans as she goes to the center of the ring and holds her arms outstretched. As ‘Raw Material’ boils to its apex, Shyla moves to her corner of the ring and lightly stretches as she watches Smith do the same.
Youth: The fans sure do seem to like her. Maybe we should take notes.
Press: Here’s a note for you, the poor girl looks like she needs to eat something. I mean…this Gideon guy has her by like 110 pounds.
Youth: Yeah, I know. And she had that same cheeseburger look on her face. I’m telling you; I’m starting to get hungry…
The lights dim in the arena as "Cocky Af" by Megan Thee Stallion blares through the speakers. Blaise saunters out from behind the curtains. She stops at the top of the ramp, where a white spotlight shines. She lowers her sunglasses before turning to display her initials "GG" that are looped and written in gold on her jacket. It stands for many things, the list really went on- what she's known to the real world- Gwendolyn Geier, what she is to the pro-wrestling world- the Golden Girl, the Golden Standard. And so much more. You didn't want to get her started. Blaise stretchs her hands out before turning to face the crowd again. She has a grin red-painted lips as she adjusts her glasses to cover her eyes again before walking down the ramp.
Torres: and introducing the final participant, standing at five foot six and weighting in at 125 pounds, she hails from Venice, California…THE GOLDEN GIRL, BLAISEEE!!!
As she walks forward, the spotlight follows along with her. Blaise sings along to her song, with a hop in her step. She reaches the side of the ring and hops on. With one unimpressed look to the crowd, Blaise enters the ring and discards her sunglasses to the side. She walks to the turnbuckle across the ring and is halfway up, before jumping down with a smirk much to the dismay of the camera-ready fans. Blaise carefully takes off her jacket and hands it to the ring attendant before turning to face her opponents.
Youth: …..
Press: What’s wrong with you?
Youth: Did Torres just call her the Golden Girl?
Press: heh, heh, heh…Yeah?
Youth: And her name is Blaise?
Press: Yeah, couldn’t figure that out. Is it Blaze or Blasé?
Youth: Well one would be gimmick infringement, and the other would be apathetic. Something tells me the latter is how I’m going to feel about this match.
Press: Oh, come on. Don’t do that. At least she didn’t look like she wanted a cheeseburger.
DING DING DING!!!
Youth jumps at the sounding of the bell while the competitors all begin to square up.
Youth: Jesus Christ! That scared the shit out of me.
Press: Dude…You can’t say shit on Santa Monica television. Now hold on a minute while I even this up…
Press removes his headset and slips around the announce desk, scooping up the steel chair that he had propped up in the front. The three competitors lose focus for a minute by the distraction, looking down at the floor where he yells something up at them and then slides the chair under the ropes to the center of the ring. This actually brings a cheer from the crowd while the referee stares on in dismay. Press returns to his seat and slips the headphones back on.
Press: Alright! Let’s get this party started.
All three competitors stare down at the weapon now in the center of the ring just before David Gideon Smith makes a play for it. He’s quickly cut off by a running single leg drop kick to the face by Clemmens, who is promptly caught from behind by Blaise with a rear naked choke. Shyla stumbles around the ring with The Golden Standard on her back while David clutches his jaw and uses the ropes to regain his feet.
Youth: Golden Standard, Golden Girl, Golden Showers?
Press buries his face into his palms as Clemmens backpedals into the nearby corner, crushing her attacker, Blaise against the turnbuckles. It forces a momentary break, but as Shyla steps out to try and catch her breath she’s bulldozed by a clothesline from out of nowhere by a fast-moving Smith. The blow slams her back into the corner, subsequently crushing Blaise again, and when Gideon pulls her out by the hair of the head The Golden Standard slides down to a seated position against the bottom turnbuckle.
Press: Well, that’ll happen when your opponent is twice your size.
Youth: Maybe they should try and work together to whittle him down.
Press: Was that real commentary coming out of your mouth?
Youth: Yeah, man! I think I’m getting good at this!
Smith hooks Clemmens around the head and delivers a snap suplex that ends up bringing her tailbone first down to the steel chair that was never picked up. Shyla grabs at her lower back in pain as Gideon quickly pops to his feet and rushes in for a Cannonball Senton to Blaise in the corner. She, however, manages to use the ropes to yank herself out of the way, and Smith finds himself hitting the turnbuckles hard and then awkwardly slamming down onto the back of his neck and shoulders.
Youth: Ouch!
Press: Yeah, that’s a sure-fire way to get a crick in your neck.
Youth: Well Blaise is holding her ribs after being crushed into the corner twice but is the only competitor on her feet!
Press: Clemmens is finally getting up after striking the chair, and OH! Blaise with a superkick that sends her crashing back down to the mat.
Youth: There’s a hook of the leg…
One…
Two…
Press: Kick out by Shyla at two, and now Blaise pulling her back up to her feet to shoot off the ropes.
Youth: Good call, Press. You’re a real professional at this commentary thing!
Clemmens returns off the ropes while Blaise moves to the center and posts up to do something, but she’s caught by surprise when Shyla leaps into the air and hooks her legs around her head, swinging around for a head scissors takeover. Blaise skids across the ring as Shyla gets quickly to her feet and rushes towards the ropes and springboards into a wicked moonsault that crushes Blaise into the mat. She hooks the leg for a cover.
One…
Two…
Thr-NO!
Press: Pin was broken up by a now recovered Smith who yanks Clemmens up by her hair and the seat of her tights and tosses her through the ropes to the outside!
Youth: Gideon now pulling Blaise up to her feet and deliver three rapid palm thrusts to her chest that send her stumbling back into the corner.
Press: Looking at Nelson’s notes here, it says that David Gideon Smith is quite the striker…should be interesting to see what happens here.
Smith winds up and delivers an earth-shattering chop that causes the entire arena to chime in with a ‘woooo’. He hits her with another, and another, before taking her by the wrist and sending her hurtling towards the opposite side. She strikes the turnbuckles with authority which pops her out, sending her stumbling towards the center of the ring where David meets her with a running Edge Logic (Bicycle Knee).
Press: Damn…took her head off!
Youth: Yeah, and Blaise just crumpled to the mat while Smith drops over her for the cover.
One…
Two…
Thr-NO!
Press: Big save by Clemmens who just came off the top out of nowhere with a leg drop down across the back of Gideon’s head!
Youth: Smith coming up to his feet, and here comes the Caustic Siren with a few rapid-fire kicks of her own which knock him back into the ropes!
DGS lays against the ropes after a particularly nasty shoot and Shyla takes a few steps back to get some room to work. Unfortunately, it’s right into the waiting arms of Blaise, who laces her right arm between the woman’s legs and drags her to the mat for a roll up.
One…
Two…
Thr-NO!
Youth: Clemmens got out of that one on her own with a kick out, and now both ladies coming to their feet…OH!
Press: BIG DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE FROM SMITH TAKES BOTH OF THEM DOWN TO THE MAT!
David Gideon Smith looks like the time for maneuvering is over as he reaches down and scoops up the steel chair that was still just lying about the ring. He holds the chair aloft, waiting to see which of the ladies is going to rise first, banging it off his boots like he’s getting ready to go up to bat. Both women groggily push up to their feet, and Smith see’s the opportunity to take out both birds with one stone. He winds up and swings the chair with all his might, but at the last second Clemmens sees it coming and ducks. Blaise, seeing her opponent drop low, follows suit, and the chair harmlessly passes by overhead. There’s enough momentum in the swing that Smith spins all the way around, and when he catches his balance he’s holding the chair right in front of him.
Youth: DOUBLE DROPKICK BY BLAISE & CLEMMENS TO THE CHAIR WHICH FLIES BACK INTO SMITH’S FACE!
Press: That just sent the chair flying out of the ring, and DGS is down for the count!
Youth: Yeah, and Blaise just dove onto him for a cover!
One…
Two…
Thr-NO! Blaise is yanked off of Gideon by Clemmens, who quickly drops down and goes for a cover of her own. She also only gets a two count thanks to it being broken up by Blaise. Now the two women stand nose to nose with one another in the center of the ring talking smack.
Press: Blaise just backed off a little from this confrontation, looking out at the crowd and talking junk…NOPE!
Youth: The Golden Child tried to get a cheap shot on The Siren, but she blocked the punch and is firing in rights of her own that are knocking Blaise all the way into the ropes!
Press: Looks like she’s going to shoot her off, BUT SMITH IS BACK ON HIS FEET AND CATCHES HER COMING IN WITH A SPINE BUSTER!
Blaise clutches at her spine as she rolls for the ropes, and Smith pops up to try and get eyes on his other opponent. It doesn’t take him long, as Clemmens is running right at him, leaping to hook him around the head, and spins her entire body around for a Tornado DDT. Smith rolls towards the ropes off the impact, and he and Blaise both end up on the outside grabbing at their respective injuries. When Blaise catches sight of Smith, however, she rushes around the ring post and waffles him with a clubbing forearm that drives him hard chest first into the apron. The two begin to scrap, trading blows on the outside, all the while leaving Clemmens in the ring, who starts to climb up the nearest corner.
Youth: Clemmens is nearly at the top about to do some of my style of wrestling as Blaise and Smith try and beat the hell out of each other down below…
Press: Got to keep your head on a swivel in a three way, and the other two are about to find that out the hardway!
Just as the Smith and Blaise realize that Shyla is above them, The Caustic Siren leaps into a perfect Corkscrew Plancha that crash lands on the party below. All three superstars are wiped out in the aftermath, and the fans are completely beside themselves as a result.
THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!
Youth: Well, I guess that was awesome.
Press: It wasn’t bad, but I think we need to speed this up. At this rate, this thing’ll never end.
The big man tosses his headset back onto the desk and hops up, walking alongside the ring to the area where the superstars are laid out. He reaches down, and one by one, yanks them to their feet and tosses them back into the ring, the last one being Clemmens. The Siren has enough wherewithal to look up and see Press give her a wink before he makes his way back to the commentary booth.
Youth: Geez, man. You’re all heart. Like a real public servant.
Press: I know right. If Oliver Black hadn’t already handed out all this bullshit awards, I’d be a right shoe in for ‘Most Helpful Icon’.
Clemmens starts crawling over to the closest body, Smith, and drapes her arm over him for a cover.
One...
Two...
Thr-NO! Blaise, still lying on her back, kicks both feet into Clemmen's face and the Siren falls off of Gideon holding her nose. Blaise pushes up to her feet as Clemmens does the same, and when she looks up to see The Golden Standard, she rushes forwards...right into a Release Belly to Belly Suplex that sends her flying across the ring. Shyla slams to the mat with authority, and Blaise spins around to capitalize. As she does she notices that Smith has pulled himself back to his feet with the use of the ropes, and she charges in with a Spin Wheel Kick that sends him right up and over the top rope to the outside. Clemmens is back to her feet now but clutching at her lower back, and Blaise sneaks in behind her, grabbing her by the shoulders while dropping back with both knee's up for a Back Cracker (Double Knee Back Breaker)!
Press: Hot damn! The Golden Ticket is targeting Shyla Clemmen's back, and doing a pretty effective job at it.
Youth: Yeah, and with Smith on the outside she now goes for a cover with no chance of interference.
One...
Two...
Youth: Thre-NO! The Siren able to get her foot onto the bottom rope, and the referee caught it an is calling off the pin.
Press: Uh-Oh. Blaise is looking pissed about that as she's now bitching at the referee to do his damn job...
Blaises barks into the referee's face while he warns her to back off and return to the match when David Gideon Smith slides back into the ring from behind and rushes in with a Last Word (Clothesline From Hell) right into the back of The Golden Girl's head and shoulders. Blaise is flung forwards from the blow, clobbering the referee and clanking heads with him as she falls to the mat clutching at her skull. Smith quickly grabs her by the leg and yanks her away from the ropes before dropping for the cover, but the count never comes as the referee lay unconscious a few feet away.
Press: Well...this is a conundrum. What are they going to do now?
Youth: I don't know man, but seriously, I'm getting hungry. This can't go on forever.
Press: You know, since we've mastered this commentary thing, I think you should try your hand at other positions in the company.
Youth: Oh yeah? Like what?
Press: I've always wondered what you'd look like in the zebra stripes.
Youth: That's perfect! Man, way to spot an opportunity.
With that, Youth flips his headset off and runs to slide into the ring about the time that Smith comes up to his feet to curse at the downed referee. He turns upon hearing someone else entering the ring, and raises a fist as if looking for an attack, but Youth throws his hands up as if to say, 'Pump the brakes'. He steps over to the referee and pulls the man up into a seated position only to strip him of his shirt, and then nudges him under the bottom rope to the outside. Now donning the stripes, Youth points at the IPW patch on his shirt, and signals for Smith to continue the match. DGS just stares at Youth for a moment in disbelief, but with a shrug he quickly drops back down onto Blaise for another pin attempt.
One...
Two...
Press: Thre-NO! Blaise kicks out. Man...too much time had passed. HEY, REF! DO YOUR DAMN JOB!
Youth trots over to the edge of the ring where the announce table and holds his hands out at his sides comically, and as The BombTrax bicker back and forth with one another about his officiating, David Gideon Smith looks fit to be tied. Just as he's about to stalk over and confront Youth, he's taken by surprise when Shyla Clemmens suddenly pops up to her feet, leaps into the air while hooking him behind the head, and then falls back with both knees tucked towards his face.
Press: Crumb has written down there that Clemmen's calls that the Shattering Point...I'm just kidding. Crumb isn't literate enough to take notes. And there's a cover by The Siren!
One...
Two...
Thre-NO! Just in the nick of time Blaise manages to get to her knees and springs across the ring to shove Clemmens off of Smith, and now the three superstars lay on the mat battered and exhausted. Youth trots from individual to individual, checking them for injury, and asking if they want to continue.
Press: Well...while there's a dramatic lull in the action, let me take this opportunity to say a few words from our sponsor. Do you ever feel depressed or overly tired? Anxious and cramped? Ever feel like the world is closing in, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it? Well folks, do I have the cure for you. Just watch Astrid Samson and Brianna Rissi. Just one glimpse into their shit show of a life and you'll feel ten times better about almost any situation that you're dealing with. Remember while watching Astrid Samson and Brianna Rissi that you may experience bouts of dizziness or drowsiness, vomiting, nausea, and diarrhea. Not normal diarrhea either. Like earth shattering splatter fest mud butt. If you experience any suicidal thoughts after watching Astrid Samson and Brianna Rissi, immediately turn off your television and consult your doctor. Wait....the three competitors are starting to stir. Back to our regularly scheduled match...
Blaise is the first to her feet, but she is soon followed by Clemmens who still looks to be having back problems. The Golden Standard positions herself behind Shyla as she comes up and quickly brings her arms up under her, tying her up in a full nelson. As The Siren fights to try and get free she's shocked when she's hoisted up and over into a dragon suplex which slams the back of her head off the canvas while Blaise bridges for a pin.
One...
Two...
Press: Thre-Nope! David Gideon Smith in there with a stomp to Blaise's gut to break up the count, and now he pulls her up by the wrist to slam against his shoulder, shoves her back out, and DAMN NEAR TAKES HER HEAD OFF HER SHOULDERS WITH ANOTHER DEVASTATING CLOTHESLINE! There's the cover...
One...
Two...
Three!!!
Clemmens makes a last minute dive to try and break up the count, but Youth's hand has already struck the mat. The unusual referee pops up and signals for the bell while Torres makes the announcement.
Torres: And the winner of this match via pinfall....DAVID GIDEON SMITH!!
Press: Well, Clemmens doesn't look too happy about the outcome as she drops down out of the ring and slaps the apron. I can get how that is frustrating, and now the referee is going to raise Smith's hand...WHOA!
Press shoots up out of his seat as Youth goes to take Gideon by the wrist, but the victor jerks his hand away and the two commence to a stare down in the center of the ring. Beneath them Blaise rolls for the outside while Youth puts his hands up to pump the brakes a little, and shrugs his shoulders while exiting to join his partner at the commentary booth. Smith watches him go with a fist cocked and ready to go, but upon seeing there isn't going to be any shenanigans turns and takes a turnbuckle to celebrate his victory. Youth slips one of the commentary headsets over his ears and lets out a loud 'woosh' sound.
Youth: Man...that referee gig is a thankless job. You count the three for a guy and he acts as if you didn't do anything for him.
Press continues standing, staring holes into DGS, but eventually shrugs his shoulders and looks down at his partner.
Press: I think we've shot the ratings up enough for right now. Let's say we make our way to the back for that cheeseburger.
Youth: Damn right man, I've worked up quite the appetite!
The two men flip their headsets onto the table and make their way past the ring and to the ramp, Press never taking his cold eyes off of Smith who continues to celebrate. The shot then cuts to backstage.
Nelson: Everyone batten down the announce table! The BombTrax are here!
Crumb: Honestly, I’m surprised. They took quite the beating after their match thanks to the Queen Bee’s.
Rose: HEY! It was The BombTrax that walked out of that match with a win, not Asstrid and her idiot partner!
Nelson: Be that as it may, the men aren’t scheduled for competition here tonight, so one must wonder what all of this is about…
Press swings his massive leg over the top rope to enter the ring while Youth springboards right over it. Upon landing he walks towards the corner where the timekeeper’s table is and demands microphones which are promptly given. He tosses one to Press, who has unfolded the chair and now takes a seat in the center of the ring. He lifts the microphone but pauses as a cacophony of boos come his direction. As if a little irritated, the big man shrugs it off while Youth shakes his head behind him.
Press: I don’t know what you people are booing. Is it because we finally gave those high-faluting hussies, The Queen Bee’s, their first loss? Or is it because we sent Captain All-Star on a well-deserved retirement? Or maybe, just maybe, you’re booing because we aren’t booked on this show…
The boos intensify as Press leans back in the chair, a smirk on his lips.
Press: Well, nothing we can do about that kids. You see, that little number The Bee’s did to me at the end kept me from being cleared to wrestle. Concussion or some such. But don’t you worry, I’ll be good to go by next show, and after tonight, I’m sure all of you will be to. Cause if you haven’t figured it out, that’s exactly what is going to happen while we’re here in IPW. You all are going. To the hospital, to another promotion, to retirement, to the morgue. Doesn’t matter. You’re all going somewhere, and we promise you, if you don’t do it yourselves then we’re going to do it for you.
Press lets the mic drop while Youth lifted his behind him.
Youth: Finally.
He pauses, casting a sidelong glance at the crowd who seems to perk up a little at the more popular of the two.
Youth: Finally, someone around here gets it. I mean, we were freakin’ worried. Worried that we were just gonna come on in your house and run roughshod. I mean, we still haven’t heard anything out of the IPW Heavyweight Champion, Mike Mason, so there’s that. But what The Queen Bee’s did after they lost was exactly what we were looking for. A little resistance. A little payback. Someone to stand in the breach and say, ‘You shall go no futher!’
Youth lets out a laugh, coming to a pause to place a reaffirming hand on his partners shoulder.
Youth: Only…we’re still here.
He flashes a trademark boyish grin at the crowd.
Youth: See, after New Year’s, Who Dis? 2, we’re kind of hoping that the introductions are over. That we don’t have to keep rehashing the same old schtick. You know why we’re here, what we’re after, and what we’re willing to do to get it. But there will be time for all that later. Tonight, since we have an entire show on the sidelines, how about we try our hand at something different. I've always wanted to see what it was like to sit at the commentary table and call a match. What do you say, Press? Want to give it a try?
A wicked smile begins to creep onto Press’s face, and he starts to nod.
Press: NOW THAT…sounds like a plan.
Nelson: Wait…what?!?
Both men flip their microphones to the canvas which causes a god-awful screech to go off throughout the arena. The fans boo as the two men make to exit the ring, Press making sure to fold up his chair and take it with him for later.
Crumb: Uh..guys…they’re coming this way!
Rose: Are you kidding me? Is this fat bastard really going to try and…
Rose doesn’t get to finish her sentence before realizing that the other stooges have already abandoned her, and she quickly tosses her headset to the table before running after them. Press and Youth step around the commentator’s desk and take a seat to a chorus of boos. Press is the first to get his headset on, the poor mechanism being stretched to capacity.
Press: Hey, folks, we’re back live in Santa Monica…Geez, what the hell is wrong with this crowd?
Youth: I don’t know…a couple pricks have apparently taken over the place and they don’t seem happy about it.
Press: Whatever…HEY, TORRES! GET YOUR FAT ASS UP THERE AND DO YOUR JOB!
The ring announcer looks shocked at being barked at as he makes his way up the steps and into the ring. After collecting himself, he looks down at his cards and takes a deep breath.
Torres: The following contest is a TRIPLE THREAT debut match scheduled for one fall or submission…
The lights go down as the low opening drone of "Razorface" rumbles through the arena. Random pulses and strobes of light flare across the Tron and throughout the rafters, eventually centralizing to the center of the Tron as a white pulse that grows brighter and faster in time with the sonar-beep. This builds to a crashing synthetic dirge, accompanied by orchestral strings, that signals the arrival of David Smith: he paces slowly out onto the stage, garbed in featureless black boots, tights, and kick/knee/elbow pads, a similarly featureless black duster swirling behind him.
Torres: Introducing first, standing at six foot five and weighting in at 242 pounds, hailing from Omaha, Nebraska…He is DAVID GIDEON SMITHHH!!
Smith pauses at the top of the ramp, staring predatorily down at the ring. Then, after a moment, he starts down to the ring, not once breaking stride or acknowledging the crowd as he reaches the outside mats, ascends the steel steps, and enters through the ring ropes. He crosses the ring and goes up to the second turnbuckle, where he scans the crowd like a hawk before hopping down to the mat, removing and tossing the duster to the outside, and beginning to limber up.
Press: Have we seen this guy before?
Youth: I don’t know, but the way he just looked at the ring it made me a little uncomfortable. Like the way you look at a cheeseburger.
Press: HEY! Nothing should stand in the way of a man and his burger…
The fans are rabbid with cheers as the sound of ‘Raw Material’ by Deap Vally hits the PA system. Signs go up in the crowd welcoming the ‘Caustic Siren’ as she steps out onto the entrance stage. She’s wearing a vicious smirk.
“Get your hands off my raw material
It's up to me if I'm animal or mineral
Baby, don't take it too personal
But your behaviour is typical, typical”
Her stride is less that of a human and much more that of a predator. She moves slowly, slapping the outstretched hands of fans as she goes. Her focus, however, is on the ring.
Torres: Now making her way to the ring, standing at five foot eight and weighing in at 135 pounds, hailing from Tribeca, New York City, New York…She is THE CAUSTIC SIREN…SHYLA CLEMMENSSS!!
Methodically Shyla continues, smiling here and there, posing for selfies with a couple fans, until finally she finds herself at the ring steps.
“Get your hands off my raw material
It's up to me if I'm ethereal or visceral
These beats are so delectable it's criminal
Your attempts to change them, it is so pitiful”
She slowly climbs the ring steps and quickly slides in between the ropes. Once inside the ring, the lights dazel fans as she goes to the center of the ring and holds her arms outstretched. As ‘Raw Material’ boils to its apex, Shyla moves to her corner of the ring and lightly stretches as she watches Smith do the same.
Youth: The fans sure do seem to like her. Maybe we should take notes.
Press: Here’s a note for you, the poor girl looks like she needs to eat something. I mean…this Gideon guy has her by like 110 pounds.
Youth: Yeah, I know. And she had that same cheeseburger look on her face. I’m telling you; I’m starting to get hungry…
The lights dim in the arena as "Cocky Af" by Megan Thee Stallion blares through the speakers. Blaise saunters out from behind the curtains. She stops at the top of the ramp, where a white spotlight shines. She lowers her sunglasses before turning to display her initials "GG" that are looped and written in gold on her jacket. It stands for many things, the list really went on- what she's known to the real world- Gwendolyn Geier, what she is to the pro-wrestling world- the Golden Girl, the Golden Standard. And so much more. You didn't want to get her started. Blaise stretchs her hands out before turning to face the crowd again. She has a grin red-painted lips as she adjusts her glasses to cover her eyes again before walking down the ramp.
Torres: and introducing the final participant, standing at five foot six and weighting in at 125 pounds, she hails from Venice, California…THE GOLDEN GIRL, BLAISEEE!!!
As she walks forward, the spotlight follows along with her. Blaise sings along to her song, with a hop in her step. She reaches the side of the ring and hops on. With one unimpressed look to the crowd, Blaise enters the ring and discards her sunglasses to the side. She walks to the turnbuckle across the ring and is halfway up, before jumping down with a smirk much to the dismay of the camera-ready fans. Blaise carefully takes off her jacket and hands it to the ring attendant before turning to face her opponents.
Youth: …..
Press: What’s wrong with you?
Youth: Did Torres just call her the Golden Girl?
Press: heh, heh, heh…Yeah?
Youth: And her name is Blaise?
Press: Yeah, couldn’t figure that out. Is it Blaze or Blasé?
Youth: Well one would be gimmick infringement, and the other would be apathetic. Something tells me the latter is how I’m going to feel about this match.
Press: Oh, come on. Don’t do that. At least she didn’t look like she wanted a cheeseburger.
DING DING DING!!!
---David Gideon Smith vs Shyla Clemmens vs Blaise---
Youth jumps at the sounding of the bell while the competitors all begin to square up.
Youth: Jesus Christ! That scared the shit out of me.
Press: Dude…You can’t say shit on Santa Monica television. Now hold on a minute while I even this up…
Press removes his headset and slips around the announce desk, scooping up the steel chair that he had propped up in the front. The three competitors lose focus for a minute by the distraction, looking down at the floor where he yells something up at them and then slides the chair under the ropes to the center of the ring. This actually brings a cheer from the crowd while the referee stares on in dismay. Press returns to his seat and slips the headphones back on.
Press: Alright! Let’s get this party started.
All three competitors stare down at the weapon now in the center of the ring just before David Gideon Smith makes a play for it. He’s quickly cut off by a running single leg drop kick to the face by Clemmens, who is promptly caught from behind by Blaise with a rear naked choke. Shyla stumbles around the ring with The Golden Standard on her back while David clutches his jaw and uses the ropes to regain his feet.
Youth: Golden Standard, Golden Girl, Golden Showers?
Press buries his face into his palms as Clemmens backpedals into the nearby corner, crushing her attacker, Blaise against the turnbuckles. It forces a momentary break, but as Shyla steps out to try and catch her breath she’s bulldozed by a clothesline from out of nowhere by a fast-moving Smith. The blow slams her back into the corner, subsequently crushing Blaise again, and when Gideon pulls her out by the hair of the head The Golden Standard slides down to a seated position against the bottom turnbuckle.
Press: Well, that’ll happen when your opponent is twice your size.
Youth: Maybe they should try and work together to whittle him down.
Press: Was that real commentary coming out of your mouth?
Youth: Yeah, man! I think I’m getting good at this!
Smith hooks Clemmens around the head and delivers a snap suplex that ends up bringing her tailbone first down to the steel chair that was never picked up. Shyla grabs at her lower back in pain as Gideon quickly pops to his feet and rushes in for a Cannonball Senton to Blaise in the corner. She, however, manages to use the ropes to yank herself out of the way, and Smith finds himself hitting the turnbuckles hard and then awkwardly slamming down onto the back of his neck and shoulders.
Youth: Ouch!
Press: Yeah, that’s a sure-fire way to get a crick in your neck.
Youth: Well Blaise is holding her ribs after being crushed into the corner twice but is the only competitor on her feet!
Press: Clemmens is finally getting up after striking the chair, and OH! Blaise with a superkick that sends her crashing back down to the mat.
Youth: There’s a hook of the leg…
One…
Two…
Press: Kick out by Shyla at two, and now Blaise pulling her back up to her feet to shoot off the ropes.
Youth: Good call, Press. You’re a real professional at this commentary thing!
Clemmens returns off the ropes while Blaise moves to the center and posts up to do something, but she’s caught by surprise when Shyla leaps into the air and hooks her legs around her head, swinging around for a head scissors takeover. Blaise skids across the ring as Shyla gets quickly to her feet and rushes towards the ropes and springboards into a wicked moonsault that crushes Blaise into the mat. She hooks the leg for a cover.
One…
Two…
Thr-NO!
Press: Pin was broken up by a now recovered Smith who yanks Clemmens up by her hair and the seat of her tights and tosses her through the ropes to the outside!
Youth: Gideon now pulling Blaise up to her feet and deliver three rapid palm thrusts to her chest that send her stumbling back into the corner.
Press: Looking at Nelson’s notes here, it says that David Gideon Smith is quite the striker…should be interesting to see what happens here.
Smith winds up and delivers an earth-shattering chop that causes the entire arena to chime in with a ‘woooo’. He hits her with another, and another, before taking her by the wrist and sending her hurtling towards the opposite side. She strikes the turnbuckles with authority which pops her out, sending her stumbling towards the center of the ring where David meets her with a running Edge Logic (Bicycle Knee).
Press: Damn…took her head off!
Youth: Yeah, and Blaise just crumpled to the mat while Smith drops over her for the cover.
One…
Two…
Thr-NO!
Press: Big save by Clemmens who just came off the top out of nowhere with a leg drop down across the back of Gideon’s head!
Youth: Smith coming up to his feet, and here comes the Caustic Siren with a few rapid-fire kicks of her own which knock him back into the ropes!
DGS lays against the ropes after a particularly nasty shoot and Shyla takes a few steps back to get some room to work. Unfortunately, it’s right into the waiting arms of Blaise, who laces her right arm between the woman’s legs and drags her to the mat for a roll up.
One…
Two…
Thr-NO!
Youth: Clemmens got out of that one on her own with a kick out, and now both ladies coming to their feet…OH!
Press: BIG DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE FROM SMITH TAKES BOTH OF THEM DOWN TO THE MAT!
David Gideon Smith looks like the time for maneuvering is over as he reaches down and scoops up the steel chair that was still just lying about the ring. He holds the chair aloft, waiting to see which of the ladies is going to rise first, banging it off his boots like he’s getting ready to go up to bat. Both women groggily push up to their feet, and Smith see’s the opportunity to take out both birds with one stone. He winds up and swings the chair with all his might, but at the last second Clemmens sees it coming and ducks. Blaise, seeing her opponent drop low, follows suit, and the chair harmlessly passes by overhead. There’s enough momentum in the swing that Smith spins all the way around, and when he catches his balance he’s holding the chair right in front of him.
Youth: DOUBLE DROPKICK BY BLAISE & CLEMMENS TO THE CHAIR WHICH FLIES BACK INTO SMITH’S FACE!
Press: That just sent the chair flying out of the ring, and DGS is down for the count!
Youth: Yeah, and Blaise just dove onto him for a cover!
One…
Two…
Thr-NO! Blaise is yanked off of Gideon by Clemmens, who quickly drops down and goes for a cover of her own. She also only gets a two count thanks to it being broken up by Blaise. Now the two women stand nose to nose with one another in the center of the ring talking smack.
Press: Blaise just backed off a little from this confrontation, looking out at the crowd and talking junk…NOPE!
Youth: The Golden Child tried to get a cheap shot on The Siren, but she blocked the punch and is firing in rights of her own that are knocking Blaise all the way into the ropes!
Press: Looks like she’s going to shoot her off, BUT SMITH IS BACK ON HIS FEET AND CATCHES HER COMING IN WITH A SPINE BUSTER!
Blaise clutches at her spine as she rolls for the ropes, and Smith pops up to try and get eyes on his other opponent. It doesn’t take him long, as Clemmens is running right at him, leaping to hook him around the head, and spins her entire body around for a Tornado DDT. Smith rolls towards the ropes off the impact, and he and Blaise both end up on the outside grabbing at their respective injuries. When Blaise catches sight of Smith, however, she rushes around the ring post and waffles him with a clubbing forearm that drives him hard chest first into the apron. The two begin to scrap, trading blows on the outside, all the while leaving Clemmens in the ring, who starts to climb up the nearest corner.
Youth: Clemmens is nearly at the top about to do some of my style of wrestling as Blaise and Smith try and beat the hell out of each other down below…
Press: Got to keep your head on a swivel in a three way, and the other two are about to find that out the hardway!
Just as the Smith and Blaise realize that Shyla is above them, The Caustic Siren leaps into a perfect Corkscrew Plancha that crash lands on the party below. All three superstars are wiped out in the aftermath, and the fans are completely beside themselves as a result.
THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!
Youth: Well, I guess that was awesome.
Press: It wasn’t bad, but I think we need to speed this up. At this rate, this thing’ll never end.
The big man tosses his headset back onto the desk and hops up, walking alongside the ring to the area where the superstars are laid out. He reaches down, and one by one, yanks them to their feet and tosses them back into the ring, the last one being Clemmens. The Siren has enough wherewithal to look up and see Press give her a wink before he makes his way back to the commentary booth.
Youth: Geez, man. You’re all heart. Like a real public servant.
Press: I know right. If Oliver Black hadn’t already handed out all this bullshit awards, I’d be a right shoe in for ‘Most Helpful Icon’.
Clemmens starts crawling over to the closest body, Smith, and drapes her arm over him for a cover.
One...
Two...
Thr-NO! Blaise, still lying on her back, kicks both feet into Clemmen's face and the Siren falls off of Gideon holding her nose. Blaise pushes up to her feet as Clemmens does the same, and when she looks up to see The Golden Standard, she rushes forwards...right into a Release Belly to Belly Suplex that sends her flying across the ring. Shyla slams to the mat with authority, and Blaise spins around to capitalize. As she does she notices that Smith has pulled himself back to his feet with the use of the ropes, and she charges in with a Spin Wheel Kick that sends him right up and over the top rope to the outside. Clemmens is back to her feet now but clutching at her lower back, and Blaise sneaks in behind her, grabbing her by the shoulders while dropping back with both knee's up for a Back Cracker (Double Knee Back Breaker)!
Press: Hot damn! The Golden Ticket is targeting Shyla Clemmen's back, and doing a pretty effective job at it.
Youth: Yeah, and with Smith on the outside she now goes for a cover with no chance of interference.
One...
Two...
Youth: Thre-NO! The Siren able to get her foot onto the bottom rope, and the referee caught it an is calling off the pin.
Press: Uh-Oh. Blaise is looking pissed about that as she's now bitching at the referee to do his damn job...
Blaises barks into the referee's face while he warns her to back off and return to the match when David Gideon Smith slides back into the ring from behind and rushes in with a Last Word (Clothesline From Hell) right into the back of The Golden Girl's head and shoulders. Blaise is flung forwards from the blow, clobbering the referee and clanking heads with him as she falls to the mat clutching at her skull. Smith quickly grabs her by the leg and yanks her away from the ropes before dropping for the cover, but the count never comes as the referee lay unconscious a few feet away.
Press: Well...this is a conundrum. What are they going to do now?
Youth: I don't know man, but seriously, I'm getting hungry. This can't go on forever.
Press: You know, since we've mastered this commentary thing, I think you should try your hand at other positions in the company.
Youth: Oh yeah? Like what?
Press: I've always wondered what you'd look like in the zebra stripes.
Youth: That's perfect! Man, way to spot an opportunity.
With that, Youth flips his headset off and runs to slide into the ring about the time that Smith comes up to his feet to curse at the downed referee. He turns upon hearing someone else entering the ring, and raises a fist as if looking for an attack, but Youth throws his hands up as if to say, 'Pump the brakes'. He steps over to the referee and pulls the man up into a seated position only to strip him of his shirt, and then nudges him under the bottom rope to the outside. Now donning the stripes, Youth points at the IPW patch on his shirt, and signals for Smith to continue the match. DGS just stares at Youth for a moment in disbelief, but with a shrug he quickly drops back down onto Blaise for another pin attempt.
One...
Two...
Press: Thre-NO! Blaise kicks out. Man...too much time had passed. HEY, REF! DO YOUR DAMN JOB!
Youth trots over to the edge of the ring where the announce table and holds his hands out at his sides comically, and as The BombTrax bicker back and forth with one another about his officiating, David Gideon Smith looks fit to be tied. Just as he's about to stalk over and confront Youth, he's taken by surprise when Shyla Clemmens suddenly pops up to her feet, leaps into the air while hooking him behind the head, and then falls back with both knees tucked towards his face.
Press: Crumb has written down there that Clemmen's calls that the Shattering Point...I'm just kidding. Crumb isn't literate enough to take notes. And there's a cover by The Siren!
One...
Two...
Thre-NO! Just in the nick of time Blaise manages to get to her knees and springs across the ring to shove Clemmens off of Smith, and now the three superstars lay on the mat battered and exhausted. Youth trots from individual to individual, checking them for injury, and asking if they want to continue.
Press: Well...while there's a dramatic lull in the action, let me take this opportunity to say a few words from our sponsor. Do you ever feel depressed or overly tired? Anxious and cramped? Ever feel like the world is closing in, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it? Well folks, do I have the cure for you. Just watch Astrid Samson and Brianna Rissi. Just one glimpse into their shit show of a life and you'll feel ten times better about almost any situation that you're dealing with. Remember while watching Astrid Samson and Brianna Rissi that you may experience bouts of dizziness or drowsiness, vomiting, nausea, and diarrhea. Not normal diarrhea either. Like earth shattering splatter fest mud butt. If you experience any suicidal thoughts after watching Astrid Samson and Brianna Rissi, immediately turn off your television and consult your doctor. Wait....the three competitors are starting to stir. Back to our regularly scheduled match...
Blaise is the first to her feet, but she is soon followed by Clemmens who still looks to be having back problems. The Golden Standard positions herself behind Shyla as she comes up and quickly brings her arms up under her, tying her up in a full nelson. As The Siren fights to try and get free she's shocked when she's hoisted up and over into a dragon suplex which slams the back of her head off the canvas while Blaise bridges for a pin.
One...
Two...
Press: Thre-Nope! David Gideon Smith in there with a stomp to Blaise's gut to break up the count, and now he pulls her up by the wrist to slam against his shoulder, shoves her back out, and DAMN NEAR TAKES HER HEAD OFF HER SHOULDERS WITH ANOTHER DEVASTATING CLOTHESLINE! There's the cover...
One...
Two...
Three!!!
Clemmens makes a last minute dive to try and break up the count, but Youth's hand has already struck the mat. The unusual referee pops up and signals for the bell while Torres makes the announcement.
Torres: And the winner of this match via pinfall....DAVID GIDEON SMITH!!
Press: Well, Clemmens doesn't look too happy about the outcome as she drops down out of the ring and slaps the apron. I can get how that is frustrating, and now the referee is going to raise Smith's hand...WHOA!
Press shoots up out of his seat as Youth goes to take Gideon by the wrist, but the victor jerks his hand away and the two commence to a stare down in the center of the ring. Beneath them Blaise rolls for the outside while Youth puts his hands up to pump the brakes a little, and shrugs his shoulders while exiting to join his partner at the commentary booth. Smith watches him go with a fist cocked and ready to go, but upon seeing there isn't going to be any shenanigans turns and takes a turnbuckle to celebrate his victory. Youth slips one of the commentary headsets over his ears and lets out a loud 'woosh' sound.
Youth: Man...that referee gig is a thankless job. You count the three for a guy and he acts as if you didn't do anything for him.
Press continues standing, staring holes into DGS, but eventually shrugs his shoulders and looks down at his partner.
Press: I think we've shot the ratings up enough for right now. Let's say we make our way to the back for that cheeseburger.
Youth: Damn right man, I've worked up quite the appetite!
The two men flip their headsets onto the table and make their way past the ring and to the ramp, Press never taking his cold eyes off of Smith who continues to celebrate. The shot then cuts to backstage.