The FBI vs Legion

[Thomas Walker]

The steel structure hangs ominously over the ring, casting back the memories of all who've seen so many legendary matches held within such a structure--Inside GHW and elsewhere. Fresh steel has been crafted for the job but the memory remains. A familiar note strikes and the FBI video package begins on the titantron.



Purest, unsurprisingly lacking his ring dressing, struts to the stage in an ever increasing state of bangage. The Scotsmans hand buzzes with the active microphone he dangles at one side. Blood pumps rapidly through his veins as it ever does in situations where the full focus of the fans anger is focused on him.

"He certainly looks like he's sticking to his 'sick note' idea for tonight but I still don't understand this, he clearly signed his name to the contract for this match. What's he got in mind?"
"Well Colin thats what that magic stick in his hand is for, he talks into it and we can all hear it if you'd shut up for a second."

His music stops and the rabid Brit wastes little time in speaking up.

"I'm not one for raking the coals of fires already cindered so I'll condense this story as much as I possibly can: Me, Hughes, Corrin and Marcus joined forces for the good of GHW. We destroyed everyone we faced, ripped The Legion apart at the seams and won a tag title match for the FBI. Dom got scared for his reputation when I took everything he had to throw at me and still beat him so he recruited a new hand to replace Shawn Dreamer and viciously assaulted me. I'd love to put him through hell for what he did but I have it on good authority that it is a severe health risk for me to get in that ring anytime soon and I'm not willing to gamble with fate--In time I shall have my revenge but for now I must sit on the benches. Therefore, I must introduce to you the team representing FBI and future GHW Tag Team Champions."



"Hailing from Ayr, Scotland...Weighing in at 250lbs and standing just over 6ft 5in tall...The future of GHW and the fruit of my seed...Steven Glover!"

In blue shorts, knee/elbow pads and a silver sleeveless jacket Steven Glover Jr bounces to the stage beside his father and raises his arms to a ready made crowd of 'adoring fans'. Locking his significantly smaller father in a tight embrace before turning to the ring, the Scotland bred newcomer soaks in the fans boos much as his father would.

"And his partner, fighting his way out of London, England...Standing at a dizzying 5ft 8in tall and weighing 170lbs...He is The Block Rockin', Show Stoppin', Cherry Poppin', he'll break your heart then he'll break your jaw...he is a legend in the waiting, Corrin Cobain!"

The music remains constant as Corrin charges to the top of the ramp and raises his arms high overhead, his hands looking empty without a title. Something he no doubt has every intention to change tonight. A sly smile to Snr and a fist bump to Jnr then the two younger men sprint the length of the ramp and slide under the bottom rope. Purest takes the microphone backstage with him as he leaves.

"Did ol' papa pure really just refer to his son as 'the fruit of his seed'?"

TBC

[Sam Keane]

Just to kick this off, and get this match going as soon as possible, consider this me and kahlan's entrance. I'll edit later.

TBC FBI, good luck guys, lets make this an awesome match.

[Thomas Walker]

The bell rings, the crowds roars simmer as the fans retake their seats and each team takes a second to decide who shall first tie up with who. For Corrin it is the unfortunately pregnant Kahlan and for Sam Keane it is the Scottish Legend Purests son of the same name. The two teams stare off across the ring, Glover Jr and Sammy linking hands first and exchanging some choice unpleasantries until a knee to the gut silences Keane. He's then hooked by the collar and ran face first into the uppermost of three padded buckles in the corner nearest the entrance ramp, dazing him and muting his flailing arms long enough for Stevie to short arm shoot him towards the center of the ring before pulling the young man back and hoisting him high enough so his descent crosses paths with the thick connecting beam of the dominating cage. As this is going on the other two competitors also tie up. Being sadly comparable in size to his female opponent doesn't bode well for Corrin as the two struggle back and forth til she swings her leg round to put the slightest of pressure on the inner flex of his left knee to make him kneel, making him vulnerable enough for her to break the lock their hands held and clamp his neck to her waist. Choking the breath from him for a second makes him struggle violent til she wrenches upwards to lock it in securely and drops to her back, spiking the apex of her opponents skull in to the solid mat. Little K snaps to her feet and springs off her marker to drive her forearm into the fast approaching throat of Purest Jr who had the same idea in mind for a completely vulnerable Sam Keane.

With both their opponents down the team representing Legion start to put together a torture shop, each waring on their chosen men with light niggling blows as Glover is sandwiched between the back of Keane and one of the rings corners and Cobain is pressed into the other by Kahlan as she hooks his arm. Taking a step back and propelling him across the ring to her team mate, Sammy waits til the last second before stepping out of the smaller of his opponents path allowing him to crash into the stomach of the larger. Droplets of spit spray out to the ring as Corrins attempt to protect himself at the last second sadly meant the outside of his curled shoulder drove just above the unshieled waist of his partner putting the current tag team champions in a very comfortable position. Again dividing their efforts, Little K starts her assault on Corrin by pressing his face to the most ridged area of the steel links at the door and grinding the flesh by dragging him back and forth across it. Meanwhile Keane climbs to the top rope over Stevie G, waiting for the Scotsman to rise before diving forth and planting the soles of his boots into the mans upperback, careening him across the ring til his body hits the unwavering fence and comes to a stop.

"Kahlan and Sam are looking very, very comfortable inside this cage. The way they've used the cage to their advantage already shows us exactly what kind of match this is going to be."
"Indeed, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd been taking tips on this match type by the King of the Deathmatch. It's perfect for someone like him and even if they didn't seek it, I'm sure he'd be more than willing to tell them the best ways to hurt someone in this environment."
"It's what he does best, they'd be wise to listen to him."

Resting for a moment in her grating of Cobains facial features looks to be Kahlans undoing as the tag title contender locking his arms makes it nearly impossible for her to continue, less when he's able to clap the reverse of his left elbow into her jaw. Immediately dropping her to the mat the crowd begin to jeer the Englishman but he retorts while slapping his chest: "That's how we treat our women!" The fans may not be able to get to him but Sammy can and with a flurry of short shucks he does. A similar number of returns and an added volley from the rising Purest Jr is more than he can handle though and before long he has to relent on his own offensive to defend. Quick to snap, the brits lock an arm each over his back use their free hands to lift his feet from the mat and drop him across the stomach of the dazed Ladder Queen. Showing no regard for her partner Little K pushes his wrenching frame off hers and rolls on one side clutching her midsection and crying out to the mat. The striped officials surrounding the cage are as powerless to intervene as the gasping crowd who rain boos to the ring. Corrins spit is laced with the tiniest trickle of blood running into his mouth from his cheek but he powers on through.

Planting his foot between the legs of Keane, Corrin ties up the larger mans legs on his own and pulls the upper half of his frame from the mat so he can stare into the pool of glistening sweat left where he once lay. With everything in position Stevie hits the ropes behind him Cobain and comes back towards him at such pace he has to slow himself slightly before he can press down on the Englishmans shoulders and leapfrog himself up and over his partner into a freefall towards the Sammy. His fathers potentially career ending injury in mind, Glover has no moral conflict as he boards his legs a split second before they land on the bridged neck of his opponent and force his face into the wooden flooring with 250lbs of raw athlete on his back for added effect. Kahlan is yet unwilling to get herself further involved in the match as her concern is far from the titles, curled in the corner cradling herself and whincing in pain, so the Fucking British Invaders keep themselves focused on the whimpering mess at their feet. Another wicked plan fit for the H-Games seems to come to the pair with no more than a look and a smile prompting Glover to clasp a leg of Keane to each of his sides then straighten up, balancing the newest Legion member on his own shoulders before letting out a fiendish war cry. Dropping back the levity of the rolling Purebloody Baby springs his opponent to an upright position momentarily until Cobain slams his elbow into the tag champions jaw, causing him to collapse back onto the pointed knees of Glover from where he was just launched.

"It can be one punch, one block, one second posturing too long and the whole face of the match can change. We've seen it happen countless times here in GHW and tonight is no different."
"True thing, and with that cage playing a part in this drama that one moment you talk about can even odds that may seem insurmountable."
"Like you wouldn't believe. Ofcourse, I was never in a position close to being beaten but I seen it happen to alot of others."

TBC by Whoever