Triangle Tag Match

[privateers]

The pearly veneers of Handsome Henry Kelly flash across the screen, flanked by the Privateers

This is Handsome Henry Kelly, joined tonight by Bill Davidson and John Blake, the Privateers, who are on their way to the ring to compete against not only their long-time rivals, the Logging Crew, but also against the GHW Tag Team Champions, Millson & Simpson. Gentlemen, how difficult will it be to maintain your focus tonight, faced with personal and professional feuds?

You’re wrong there Henry me lad, these aren’t separate feuds at all.

True enough Bill. You see Henry, we’re hunting the Logging Crew, and when you’re hunting, whether on land or sea, you need bait. Millson, Simpson, you’re the bait. When Cletus & Big Jim see what we do to you, we’ll draw them in.

The Logging Crew are a couple of sharks, and we need to start chumming the water. So, you fellows are the little fish who we grind up to draw the big ones.

Alright, so you say the champs are little fish…?

No one can deny that they’ve done well for themselves, and that they’ve had the titles a long time, but we all know that that’s only part of the story.

We all know that when Millson had the book, under GM Jones, he made sure that the tag team titles were protected, and that’s why it was that you saw matches like “one member of the Legion versus Vince Vegas” or why Chris Pyro ditched his brother, or why Big Jim is holding a singles title.

And do you know why that was?

No, It doesn't matter what you had for dinner!

On account of Mighty Man Millson isn’t a tag team Fighty fighty person, he’s just a rich kid with a bodyguard. They aren’t a real team, so while he was in power there would be no real teams. If one came up, he just nudged one guy until the team got lopsided and fell over.

You’ll see it tonight Henry, he’ll try to steal the show, make it all about him, and as long as the checks clear Johnny Simpson could give a damn. The only problem is that Dave Meltzer and Bill Apter never heard of GHW, or Mighty Man Millson.

So, he can push himself to the moon, and he’s still nothing more than a little fish.

Bait.

See ya ‘round Henry.

Best of luck…

Alestorm hits the speakers and the crowd stands in expectation of the Privateers.



The following contest is a triangle tag team match. Introducing first, John Blake & Bill Davidson, The Privateers!

As expected these days, the reaction tonight is mixed. A few fans hold signs decrying the so-called “Sea-Faring Bastards,” while children cheer and ladies ogle the finely chiseled physiques of the sailors.

Davidson & Blake are doubling down tonight, getting ready for Rise of the Fighty fighty persons and their big title shot.

Accordingly Colin, they have got to be careful. An injury in this match could cost them the gold this weekend. On the other hand, if they can cause an injury, it could give them the edge.

And what about the Logging Crew? They’ve been perennial contenders for months, but dropped the ball a few months back in their only title shot to date. Where to their plans lead, or are they just out to wreak havoc?

That’s likely it, those two guys can talk about plots, but I get the impression this fued isn’t exactly paint-by-numbers. Cletus & Big Jim are wild cards for sure, and ought to make this match even more interesting than it is.

TBC

[Cletus & Big Jim]

The dulcet pickings of Leadbelly usher the crowd to its feet in anticipation of the Logging Crew



Introducing from the backwoods of New Brunswick, Cletus the Lumberjack and the King of the Deathmatch, Big Jim, they are the Logging Crew!

Like the Privateers have just experienced, the reaction the Logging Crew is mixed, albeit the other way around. Instead of cheering, all but the bravest of children hide behind their parents’ legs as the woodsmen walk past and the ladies recoil in revulsion at the look of their homely visages and twisted grins.

Big Jim produces a microphone from under the mass of fur and chains

Everything comes to he who waits, and I’ve waited a long time for this.

A pity the belts ain’t on the line…

Sure is Cletus, but wait another while and that might happen yet.

Boys, I’m not sure I bought that interview with Kelly. You lads are so agitated most times, but you barely cursed once tonight. Well, me and Jim got to talkin’ just now and we figured you needed something to light your boiler fire.

Let ‘er rip boys



The Motorhead theme pours over the arena, and it takes no great brain trust to deduce that it once accompanied the erstwhile manager of the Privateers to the ring.

Blake & Davidson are furious, until they realize that this isn’t all. It is then they see it, at first only a speck floating above the lights, descending down toward the ring. It glides on the air with frills and tassels swelling up around it. It dances within the lights, swoops down toward the arena floor and in mere seconds rolls to reveal the large Union Jack emblazed upon its bust line. Blake blinks in disbelief, sure that it must be a figment of his overactive imagination. Yet there it is; the dress that set the fans hearts ablaze, the one that looked so entrancing on her, tight in all the right places. As it comes closer the tatters and rips are all too apparent, as are the laughs of the loggers over the heavy metal sound.

TBC

[Millson and Simpson]

Despite the new music, the crowd erupt in boos as the titantron of the hated GHW Tag Team champions, Mighty Man Millson and Johnny Simpson, is shown on screen. As the music reaches it's first crescendo after 10 seconds, the curtain bulges and Millson steps from behind it, with big Johnny Simpson flanking him, title belts around the waists of both men. Arrogantly, the duo pace down the entrance ramp, ignoring the petty squabbling in the ring between the Privateers and the Logging Crew, sliding into the squared circle in tandem to show a united front. As the referee tries to keep order, Millson, Blake and Jim step out of the ring, leaving Simpson, Davidson and Cletus as the starting competitors in the contest.

TBC

[privateers]

“The Punisher” stares down his opposition amidst an electric atmosphere and opts to take the offensive, knowing that his having the gold makes him a marked man. A crashing blow from the bodyguard sends Cletus reeling backward, and Simpson manages to get a headlock on the surprised Davidson, which he grinds in mercilessly. Bill tries an atomic drop but can budge the close to three hundred pounds of tag champion. Simpson seems mildly amused by this, but doesn’t smirk long as he turns his body into a running tackle by the man from Beaubears. Driven backward, Johnny is taken to the ropes where Cletus proceeds to choke him. The referee steps in with a DQ count, but the hold is broken by Bill Davidson, who spins the logger around, ducks a wild roundhouse, and scoops the big man’s legs to put him on his back.

Bill Davidson gets the early advantage, which has to put some wind in the sails of the Privateers.

Oh, that’s rich, how long have you been sitting on that gem? Davidson doing well in the early going, but there’s plenty of match left to go.

A lotta arms and legs flying around in there, they had best be careful.

This is wrestling, not entertainment Colin.

Bill looks down with pleasure on his former foe and invites the recently mobile Simpson to join him in the performance of a double hamstring pull. The move leaves Cletus stretched out and sore, but the teamwork is short-lived. The Scotsman manages a single-leg trip, and looks to wrap up the burly boy from the farms. A few kicks with his free leg manages to free Simpson from the submissive prospect and sends the sailor stumbling to get his bearings, with a thought to review the situation. The Punisher seems slightly affronted by the betrayal and, seeing Cletus back on his feet, invites the Brute of Beaubears to repay their common enemy. The moment that the lumberjack looks away to set himself to task, Simpson jumps him ferociously, driving a knee-lift to the stomach and a powerslam on the Beaubears Island native. Then, with a smirk, he smashes his elbow into Davidson’s face. Simpson, now totally in control, looks to his corner, and receives an approving nod, before returning to the matter at hand. He whips Davidson into the ropes and ensures that the man from Aberdeen falls directly into the path of a powerful lariat that flips him 180 degrees in the air. Adding insult to injury, Johnny rakes the man’s eyes with his boot. As Davidson flops about, the big man drapes the still prone body of Cletus over the second rope and makes to execute his patented leapfrog body guillotine, but the logger rolls clear and Johnny is twisted in the ropes and in pain. As Cletus makes the tag to Big Jim, Davidson sees his attacker caught and proceeds to work him over.

Simpson had the run of this match, and now he’s on the receiving end. It shows you why they call it tag wrestling. Johnny needed to tag out while he was still in control. It’s always better to be tagging while you’re still a little fresh than when you’re on your last legs.

Do you think that mistake is on account of the lack of in-ring activity from the champs, as a tag team, these last few months?

Yeah, it could be that Davidson & Blake are on to something.

Big Jim surveys the situation, before striking out against the trapped Johnny Simpson. For a rare, and very brief time, the long-fought enemies are united over the bruising form of the current tag champion, but soon they realize their error and begin to trade blows themselves, allowing the ignored giant to slink into his corner and make the tag. In the midst of battle, Jim charges, but Bill drops down and Jim stomps over him to the far ropes. The perverse pulp peeler bounces off and finds Davidson running perpendicular to him in a criss-cross. Both men know where this is heading and after a few bounces and ducks they both go for their respective clotheslines, trying to outstep their opponent. The force of their collision picks up both men’s feet and the crash to the canvas once again. The dapper Englishman now swaggers into the ring and executes a photographic rolling thunder on the motionless logger. Following up with an ankle lock brings Davidson back to reality as he struggles and strains to free himself, or get to the ropes. At length, Millson relinquishes the hold, sensing Big Jim is on the rise once more, and not wishing to leave himself exposed

Millson is showing you why he had three titles for a time. The Privateers can whine and say he booked himself to the top, but it’s control of this kind, over two guys that both have size over on him, that shows everyone here in the building, and at home in TV-land, that he’s no fluke.

I don’t think anyone thinks he’s a fluke Al, it’s his methods that are troubling sometimes.

Well, I don’t think any of these teams have halos around their heads…

Milson turns and pushes back from his burly aggressor, dipping to deliver a drop toe hold that introduces Jim’s face to the canvas. The world champion mounts the ropes and waits patiently as his prey turns to face a cross body. Jim manages to throw a stiff shot to the gut of the flying man, but is still dazed. Bill swoops in with a roll up on the man from Black Rapids, but the woodsman has enough in the tank to kick out at two. Bill shrugs his shoulders and makes the tag to John Blake.

TBC

[Millson and Simpson]

The crowd go silent, the tension felt by all in attendance, as the English half of the Privateers enters the fray for the first time, his eyes locking onto the King of the Deathmatch. Jim stares upto the sky and points towards the tattered dress of Blake's ex-wife, a smirk enveloping his battle-hardened face, enjoying the Englishman's torment. Unable to take any more, the Plymouth Pitbull throws his fist hard into the jaw of the lumberjack, sending him staggering. Jim replies with a right hand of his own and the two trade punches, each strike more venomous than the last. Blake earns the upper hand, however, ducking a haymaker from the Black Rapids Brawler and replying with a picture perfect Dropkick to the sternum that knocks down the KOTDM champion. With a head of steam, Blake begins to rally the previously mixed crowd, receiving cheers from the Nebraskans who afford the Privateers the benefit of the doubt in this contest and backed by the fans in attendance, Blake hits the ring ropes, preparing for a high-impact manoeuvre. Unfortunately for the Privateer, he runs too close to Cletus, who throws his paw onto the small of Blake's back, flooring the unsuspecting sailor. Not one to sit idly by, Davidson leaps into the squared circle and sprints full speed ahead at the Beaubears Native, bodychecking big Cletus off the ring apron and to the concrete below. Happy with his work, the Scotsman begins to walk back to his corner, only for his facial regions to meet the right foot of the Mighty Man, who shoots his leg upwards and connects with the sailor's chin, an audible crunch the result of the Super Kick.

What a Super Kick from the tag champ and Davidson could be out of it for the rest of the contest. I think he's knocked out.

The Privateers and the Logging Crew may have unfinished business, but they can't turn their backs on Millson and Simpson for even a second.

As Davidson rolls out of the ring with his last vestige of consciousness to join the unresponsive Cletus on the outside, the Ultimate Ego sets his sights on his two opponents, noticing that the bitter enemies have both fought to a knee. Triple M hauls himself onto the top rope and as Blake and Jim reach their feet at the same moment, Millson leaps into the air, shifting his entire body weight towards the duo. This time the Cross Body connects and despite the combined efforts of the lumberjack and sailor, all three men crumple in a heap on the canvas. Having more about him than his two opponents, the Mighty Man regains his ring presence and rolls onto the pectorals of Big Jim, the man in the zebra stripes noticing the pinfall attempt and slapping his hands to the mat twice, before the King of the Deathmatch throws his arm skywards. Unperturbed, Millson tries the same ploy with John Blake, but once again, the Privateer escapes an early shower. The Mighty Man crawls over to his corner and tags in Simpson, who slowly enters the squared circle, knowing full well that he's in control of proceedings. Showing immense strength, Simpson grabs both Blake and Big Jim by the throat, hauling them to their fullest verticality and preparing himself for a gargantuan Double Chokeslam. However, with survival instincts kicking in at the same precise moment, both logger and buccaneer plant their boots into the midriff of the giant, doubling over the Punisher. With a glance at each other, both men begrudgingly drape their arms over the neck of the Georgian and lift him skywards, hoisting Simpson all the way over their heads and onto his back, the Double Suplex wresting control from the tandem of Millson and Simpson.

Would you believe that? A show of teamwork from these bitter enemies. And now Simpson's in trouble.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, Fuzz.

As the Punisher grabs his back in pain, Blake and Jim stare holes through each other once more, before Jim turns to face Simpson and begins to stomp mudholes into every exposed region of the giant. Taking this as an invitation to do the same, Blake joins in on the beating, mounting the Punisher and throwing fists onto the bridge of Simpson's nose. Once the giant looks to be flittering between sensitivity and senselessness, the buccaneer dismounts and throws his hands up to the fans, earning another round of cheers. Unfortunately, the hard-hitting King of the Deathmatch feels no such kindredship with the crowd and turns those cheers into one long, drawn out jeer, coming up behind Blake and kicking him inbetween the nether regions. As the Plymouth Pitbull collapses to the mat with the air sucked out of his lungs, Jim takes a brief moment to laugh sadistically at the plight of his foes.

TBC