Anarchy In The UK: Gauntlet Match Emissary vs Storm Part 1

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Anarchy In The UK: Gauntlet Match Emissary vs Storm Part 1 Empty Anarchy In The UK: Gauntlet Match Emissary vs Storm Part 1

Post  Stan Daniels on Fri Jan 21, 2011 10:45 am




DETAILS:Mind games and outright attacks have helped to lay the foundation for one of the biggest feuds the company has seen in a long, long time as Emissary and Storm will finally take center stage and go one on one in a no holds barred, no-interference, bring your own gauntlet of choice match. Want to bring one down to ringside that is soaked in ether on the outside and can be set on fire? Fine. One that's got resin on it and is dipped in crushed glass? Your call! Just one though, so think it over!

RP RULES: Standard match rules. For each day that a participant gets up 2 posts that are either a)not back to back or b)at least three hours apart they will receive 1 additional point to the day's rp score. Post cap at 5 for scoring purposes.

SIM RULES: Wrestle your opponent 5x using any match type. All matches to be simmed on the 30th in order to score.




The fans only just filing in to the empty building for the sold out event, down in the locker rooms, Emissary sat in a plain folding chair, his elbows on his thighs, his head in his hands.

It was harder, some days, keeping his head from tearing itself apart...

Whose light to shine? Whose heart to break? What words to speak and whose will to take? It had all been so clear before. When? Gone now, whenever it had been. The end was drawing near, and there wasn't a thing that could stop it now. Fate was not to be denied when it managed to slink so close.

And just when he thought he'd not be able to steady his mind, to focus on any one thing, there came into his vision something not to be denied. Or two somethings.

A pair of legs.

Emissary followed them up, his face quickly morphed to hide the distress that had only moments before dominated it. Neutral in expression, he came up to the wicked grin of Pandora's.

"Big night," she said.

When had she come in? he wondered. Had it only been just now, and he didn't hear? Or had she been longer? Did he know?

Whatever confusion there was behind his eyes, he managed to keep it there, not betraying it to her. "Yeah," was all he said.

"He's yours," she went on. "And that bitch, Riley, is mine. Everything we've worked toward is right here for the taking."

"No," he said. "Not everything." He stood, pressed against her, looking down. "Tonight is just the end of the first step in a greater picture. In changing the face of this company forever. Tonight sends the notice. As long as I'm here... as long as we're here... none of these people are safe to sit back on the weight of their old accomplishments. That they can't scheme their way to the top as long as someone's there to hold them accountable in the end."

The Legacy to Be ran the back of his hand across Pandora's cheek, and chuckled.

"What is it?" she asked.

He shook his head, his lips torn back in a grin. "It's amazing, the things that pop up that you never expect. You know?"

She grinned in return, as he leaned in.

* * *

The night was wearing on, and Emissary and Pandora had gone their separate ways, each to prepare in their own way, after a collection of joint exercises.

To that end, Emissary had stalked up and down the halls for better than an hour. The catering crew had begun to watch him out the corners of their eyes, refusing to openly look at him. Staffers running to and fro, delivering messages from the floor to the executives, anything from pyrotechnic schedules to last second changes to the card, made sure to skirt around the man after only a glimpse of him.

He kicked a foot up onto the wall, pressed his weight against it, stretching. And when he'd done the other leg, he simply delivered a front kick to the wall for no reason at all. Like the rest of the world, it defiantly shrugged off the blow. Change was not so easy to achieve.

His back suddenly pressed against the wall, his head thrown back against it, fists clenched into balls at his sides, Emissary let out a primal scream that did nothing to quell the anxiety at finally getting out there, at finally delivering his message to the world in full.

The Uncrowned Prince slid down the wall to a sitting position, his knees drawn up tight. He pressed his forehead against his knees, muttering into his thighs. "There's a truth to everything. You just have to find it. Find it and ram it down their throats. Only the craven reject the truth. Only the weak, the low. Only the low. Raise them up." As he muttered, he was pounding his forehead against his knees.

When he raised his head at last, there was not someone to ask him if he was alright. Not someone to give him a strange stare. There were only the walls. Walls that betrayed nothing. Walls that stood, even when the world crumbled around them.

There was something to be learned from walls, he decided.

And with that, he uncoiled like a snake, crawled out to the middle of the hall, and started doing push-ups. And he kept doing them. Until the muscles in his neck bulged with the effort, until his face had turned beat red, and his arms quivered, he did them.

And sometime during the ordeal, a camera crew had gathered around him, just filming.

Paragon: And what an amazing match that was we just saw, folks, but let's not forget... later tonight, that man, Emissary, will be going one on one with Storm. It'll be the first time these men have ever faced off in anything other than a battle royal, since Storm was unable to compete in last weeks tag title match. We've all been waiting for this one all month, but you get the feeling Emissary has been waiting for this much longer than that. You can just feel the jealousy, the pure hatred he has for Storm, every time you see him speak. And finally, tonight, everything is going to come out in the ring. It's not going to be for the faint of heart, and if you've got children watching, I'd suggest you put them to bed before that one, folks. But, we've got to keep rolling on here, and next...

The lights for the camera went out, and the men that had seemed so interested in what Emissary was doing just moments before now filed out of the way without so much as a farewell. They didn't want to be near the man anyway. While they were joking about it later, one of the men would become strangely serious. When asked by the others what his problem was, he would have a very simple answer.

"It was just wrong," he'd say. "Something about him, about everything. Just fuckin' wrong. You know?"

But in Emissary there was no wrong. Not so much as the possibility for wrong. Not when he was so goddamned right. And the sooner he could prove to the world just how disgusting it had become, when as one they all admitted their wrongs as they proffered themselves before him, the better it would be not just for himself, but for the world at large. In the end, there could be no victory without right. And just so, there would be no failure for him as long as he wielded the mighty hammer karma had provided him. No matter the cost he was forced to reap, he would find a way to save the world from itself.



A predetermined course of events often held to be an irresistible power or agency.

Some believed that no matter what, The road ahead lays waiting for them, the outcome of all things decided. Others believe themselves destined for greatness and simply wait for it to come, and still others, a chosen few, believe they must reach out, Take Destiny by the hand, To force it to bend and move on thier time, To thier will. Such was the case with Emissary, Who believed himself destine to save the world from itself, Who considered himself Karmic Justice, The Savior of the modern era. The Legacy to be as it were. His story, not yet written but destine to be, a story that would be one for the ages, Passed down through time when those of us today are faded memories, Long gone from this mortal coil.


To control or play upon by artful, unfair, or insidious means especially to one's own advantage. To change by artful or unfair means so as to serve one's purpose

Some believe Manipulation To be a sin, A deed used only by the weak who cannot gain advantage on merit alone. Others believe it's a tool used only when needed, and only for the right reasons. Still others, a very select few, Find Manipualtion a means of enjoyment, A thrill so to speak, To keep people reeling and offguard, To cause Chaos and Confusion where none existed prior. A Valueble Weapon to be used to justify the means for whatever the case may be. Such was the Case with Jason Storm who considered himself a master Manipulator, A Man who could play anyone like a fiddle, A heartless bastard who could pull the puppet strings no matter how much his reputation was know. A man who could play the same people over and over again for years, A legacy already set to be passed down through time, long after his bones turned to dust.

Emissary & Jason Storm, Two men defined by two interchangable words...for each could be what the other believed themselves to be. Emissary the Manipulator who would take what he felt was his by force, His Legacy only just begun & The Destiny Of Jason Storm, A Legacy only to be added to.

On this night, They Destiny & Manipulation Run headlong into the other. As a Legacy To Be comes face to face with a Legacy that is.


Somewhere in another part of the arena, Much like his counterpart, Storm paced the floor in the hallways, Staff, runners, and the like knowing better then to get anywhere near him. Unlike his counterpart, His face is devoid of emotion. It's almost as if the air around him doesn't move, Much like the calm in the eye of a Hurricane. He places one leg on a nearby table and bends himself forward feeling the pull of the hamstring, Feeling the burn as the muscle stretch and then relax. He switches to the other leg aware now that a cameraman and another tech set up nearby. From the corner of his eye he looks at them and the look is enough to make them back away a few more feet. The light atop the camera comes on but Storm ignores it going about his business.

John: And this has been one hell of a night thus far and it only promises to get better, Such is the case with this man Jason Storm who's set to go one on one tonight with Emissary in the Main Event, A Gaunlet match where each man can bring any weapon of thier choice. In recent weeks, Storm has had more then a full plate with the likes of people like Rude and Holland to deal with. This month has not been kind to Storm or the Emerson family as we saw earlier tonight at the Press Confenence with Brett Maverick, Storm's brother. The heat has been building for this, the rage burning, the hate eating each man from the inside out, and about an hour from now, Storm and Emissary Collide in what is sure to be an epic battle the likes of which Federation X has never seen. Up next however we have.......

Finished with his stretching and being forced to stand out in the hallway for this ridiculous Promotional spot, Storm turns to leave the moment the light on the camera goes out. He pushes the camera out of the man's hand and shoves the tech aside as he heads back to his locker room.

Camera Guy: What a dick.

Although the man barely said it loud enough to be heard by anyone excpet his buddy the tech guy, Storm stopped and cast a glance over his shoulder. He snorted and then continued on his way.

Tech Guy: Are you a fucking idiot man? You're lucky he didn't just come over here and beat the shit out of you.

Camera Guy: He's not so tough....Emissary is going to wipe the floor with him.

Tech Guy: You can live in that fantasy as long as you like, But I'm just glad I'm not Emissary.....That guy is going to pay tonight. Bank on it.

Away from the stealing glances and stares, Storm walked into his locker room and slammed the door behind him. He walked over to the table, A black carrying case lay before him with the words "American Express" Airbrushed across it's top. Storm flipped through the combination locks and then opened the case slowly. He ran his fingers down the oak hilt of his most prized possesion. His fingers finding the prick of the barbed wire wrapped around the head of the sledgehammer...drawing a small point of blood. He placed his finger on his tongue, tasted it, savored it, relished in it, and smiled like a man might smile at the woman he loves.

He took the sledgehammer out and felt the weight of it in his hands, Felt himself become one with his dark lover.

"Not to worry my darling, I know your thirst, I know what you need, tonight you and I will bathe in his blood."

He placed the sledgehammer back in it's case like a loving father might lay his first born son down in his crib. He closed the case and walked over to his locker. Pulling out a roll of white tape, He began to tape his fists.......smiling and whistling "People Are Strange" By The Doors.......a little tune he once heard somewhere.....recently.



Paragon: Tonights main event is fast approaching, folks. After weeks of waiting, Emissary and Storm are finally going to square off, with all the rules thrown right out the window. And I understand our own Stats Sipowicz is backstage with the man that calls himself the Legacy to Be.

The camera cut backstage, where Stats was standing with his microphone, all dolled up in his suit and tie, clearly excited by the show they'd had so far, and the matches still to come. "Right you are, John."

Emissary, though, was leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, muttering things to himself too quiet to be heard.

"Emissary, tonight it... Emissary?"

The Uncrowned Prince had his eyes closed, lost to the world. When Stats touched his arm, Emissary's eyes snapped open. He slowly lowered his head and leveled a death stare on the much smaller reporter. He didn't say a word.

"E... Emissary. Tonight, all the mind games, all the words, all the brutal attacks... It all comes to a head. Can you give us a few words as to what you're thinking now?"

The Legacy to Be stared back in silence. He tilted his head slowly to the left, his eyes drifting away from Stats to the floor. He drifted away like that a moment, stopped himself, forced himself perfectly upright. Through a great force of will, he put his eyes back on Stats.

"No," he said simply.

"I... what?"

Emissary shook his head. "No." And with that, he walked past Stats, out of the shot.

The always professional reporter held the microphone, watching after Emissary, then looked into the camera, clearly baffled. With a shrug, he said, "Well, it uh... It looks like we won't be getting any words from Emissary here tonight."

Paragon: Well, that's a shocker if I ever saw one. But I'm sure we're going to have plenty more twists and turns tonight, and coming up next, we're going to see...


Emissary stood over the table in his locker room. For final preparations, there was no place like one you could lock a door and keep out the world.

But this time, there was something special. On the table was a black case, a small, but deep square. He slid his hand over the slick metal frame, reveling the cool touch, imagined that he felt a steady, thrumming pulse through the metal, as though inside there was a beating heart.

He caught a finger on one of the clasps, held it there, as if teasing human flesh, before he unsnapped it. The click echoed through the empty room, and he let out an expectant gasp. One finger slid along the edge of the case to the second clasp, flipped it open.

Taking the long breath that had never steadied the world, he slipped his finger between both ends of the case, and slowly raised the lid.

The inside was lined with plush red velvet. And at the center of it all, a steel gauntlet with clearly defined ridges over each knuckle, designed to tear flesh, batter bone. Each finger showcased detailed riticulation, giving it a level of flexibility unexpected for such a construction. Across the back of the hand were engraved the letters "FoK", Fist of Karma.

It was the first time Emissary had seen it since putting in the custom order. And it was beautiful.

He ran one finger over the joints and ridges, the detailed lettering. No. No, it wasn't beautiful. It was perfection boiled down to steel form. It would crush his opposition as he fought to crush the lack of righteousness in the world.

The Uncrowned Prince lifted the weapon... no, sculpture... out of its case with both hands, closed the lid behind it. He marveled at all of its intricacies, and promised himself he'd thank the man that crafted it for him. He would thank him the best way he knew how; by putting his creation to use, destroying first Storm, then everyone that opposed him, everyone that would take up the banner of corruption, no matter what sort of face they put on it.

He slid his hand inside, felt each finger slide into place. The inside of the Fist was padded, making it a comfortable fit. His hand clenched into a fist, seemingly of its own accord, then released again. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

And without a second's hesitation, his hand clenched back into a fist, he pounded it down on the lid of the case, leaving clearly defined indentations from the blow.

And there, looking down at what little bit of destruction he'd caused, Emissary smiled.


Paragon: Ladies and gentlemen, we're only moments away from our main event. It's been weeks in the making, and now it's next. But first, let's take a look at how this thing came to be. It all started last month at To the Extreme...

And the requisite recap video played, starting with highlights of Storm's involvement in the tag title match pitting Victory against the Hot Girls, highlighted by nailing Emissary with a Lightning Strike at the announce table, before it all turned when Karissa accidentally nailed him with his own sledgehammer.

Emissary's brutal attack ensued, with voiceover work highlighting various promos he did after the fact, about right, and the lengths to which one had to go for it. And that quickly turned into the mindgames Storm began in response, with the multiple Storms, and Emissary's wide-eyed reaction to them, to the Legacy to Be panicking inside the steel cage, taking out his fear, his anger, his jealousy on Eve Riley. Then, the way Storm had him at his mercy again, joining Reverend Future's team of lumberjacks, playing the mindgames once more with his spotlights and his lookalikes, until for the second time Emissary snapped, brutalizing Future before good reverend could regain himself... just in time for an errant Lightning Strike from Storm put him down for the count, the win to Emissary. Then, the tag title match from a week before, the Uncrowned Prince choking Storm's brother Maverick with a metal ladder across his throat, forcing him to cough up blood, before the seemingly heroic return of Storm, battered and broken from attacks untold, but still he came. But, the video ended with Storm looking up at the ceiling, cutting to a shot of what had dangled from the wire that held the tag title belts. Though it was blurred out, the effect was still there.

Paragon: Wow... Just an unbelievable set of events that have brought us to this point. I said it earlier in the night, but I think it bears repeating. Folks, if you have children watching, I strongly urge you to send them to bed. This is... this isn't going to be something you want them to see.

Hank: I don't know. Might be a good lesson in the way the world works. You do something wrong to someone, you pay.

Paragon: Well, I'd disagree with that. But, the hatred here between both men, the outright envy Emissary has to feel for Storm... To have this match main eventing this amazing card, with no title on the line... I mean, this isn't even about pride. Nothing so noble. This is just pure, unadulterated hatred. Two men that are coming out here with the singular goal of -destroying- their opponent. This isn't even about winning or losing to these two men right now, folks. Wins and losses go in a record book for someone to take a little pride. But this... I just can't even consider it. It's going to be messy. It's going to be brutal. They're going to hold nothing back, I assure you. Nothing.

And before he could go on, the lights in the building fell, bringing the fans out of their seats from the anticipation of the main event to come. There was a small pop at the darkness, before it turned to boos when the tron came to life.

Paragon: Here we go, folks.

As the music picked up past the bassline, a spotlight shone on the stage, with Emissary there, his snazzy white, sleeveless robe returned. His arms raised out, his head thrown back, he held that pose much longer than he normally would, the light glistening off the case that held the Fist of Karma as he did. He didn't move, his eyes closed so he didn't blink. It looked almost as if he didn't breathe. He was, in essence, a living statue.

Until he slowly lowered his arms and looked out over the crowd, the undulating wave of humanity that would scream for blood and pain, for broken bones and torn flesh, but would boo a man that brought to them hope for the future.

But he told himself not to hate them. They were inferior, sure, ignorant. But he couldn't begrudge them being fools. He would just have to educate them. Show them the light he offered for what it was.

And that began right now.

He forced one foot out in front of the other, and took the first step down the ramp toward the ring. It was just a ceremonial place, he knew. The battle would stretch far beyond its borders, but there it would begin.

It was ground zero.

Fans shouted derisive remarks, called him names, proudly held out pro-Storm signs in his path, but he brushed them away, never tearing his eyes away from the ring.

Paragon: This crowd here tonight not keeping their feelings for this man a secret. His actions in regard to Storm's family, his friends, have been nothing short of reprehensible. The sort of things you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.

Hank: Well, maybe -you- wouldn't...

Emissary climbed the ringsteps, walked along the apron to the camera-side turnbuckle, and climbed up to the second rope, staring out over the crowd, his robe dangling dramatically around him. The spotlight that shone on him was directly above, his forehead casting deep shadows over his eyes.

He slipped back down to the apron, crossed through the ropes into the ring, where there was no referee. That brought a smile to his face, the first hint of emotion he'd shown since stepping out before them.

And as the spotlight faded, the lights came up and the music died.

There was only the sound of the raucous fans, showing their disgust for the man in the ring with random boos, shouts, and a surprisingly loud, "Emo sucks!" chant.

Paragon: This is it, folks. Just one more man to bring out here, and this is underway.


And as the spotlight faded, the lights came up and the music died.

There was only the sound of the raucous fans, showing their disgust for the man in the ring with random boos, shouts, and a surprisingly loud, "Emo sucks!" chant.

Paragon: This is it, folks. Just one more man to bring out here, and this is underway.


In the back, Shelly Simmons stood near the tech table waiting for Storm, her hands working around her mic, the tension getting to her. She knew well enough that Storm would be in "Go Mode" which meant he'd likely not have anything nice to say to her or the public. Still she had a job to do. She could see him at the far end of the hallway carrying a large case in his left hand.

With all her years in the business and being around Storm, She had never seen him the way she saw him now. Always he was quick of foot ready to bring the fight to whoever it was that wanted a piece of him but tonight it wasn't the same. Each step was taken at an even keeled pace. There was no rush in his step as if each step was delibrate, with some hidden meaning to it. He drew closer to her and she pulled the mic away from her body, ready to be the professional she always carried herself as.


Moments ago......

Storm stood watching the monitor in his locker room as Stats tried to get a word with Emissary. He didn't care what Emissary had to say nor did it matter to him that Emissary said nothing. To the untrained eye, It appeared as though Emissary was totally focused on the match. His body, His movements, the facial ticks, the muscles that flex all told a story. In most cases it told Storm that his opponent had fear. What he was seeing from Emissary was not so much fear as it was conviction. Conviction in that the Path Emissary embarked on a month ago had been the right one. That he was ready and willing to do whatever he needed to do to take Storm out once and for all.

So much the better because Storm didn't want it any other way.

He watched as Emissary moved past Stats, his body speaking the words his mouth would not. He continued to watch as the Highlight video of thier current fued played. He couldn't help but smile ever so slightly. With no further need to watch the rest of the video, Storm plucked his treasured carrying case off the table and left his locker room.


Paragon: I'm getting word from the back that our own Shelly Simmons is about to have a word with Storm. Back to you Shelly.

Shelly: Greetings Fed X Fantatics, Shelly Simmons here and I'm about to grab a word with Storm who's approaching as I speak. Storm, Tonight you.....HEY!

Storm never broke his slow stride, nor did he even turn his head towards Shelly, He Just palmed her face in his hand and shoved her back away and continued moving forward.

Shelly: Well that wasn't very nice....asshole. Back to John and Hank at ringside.

John: Thank you Shelly. So hank, Thoughts? Niether man had anything to say and that's something we don't see very often in this business.

Hank: It's simple John, it tells me tonight we'll witness perhaps the worst bloodbath Federation X has ever seen. Both men are focused, both men ready to beat the other to a pulp. You couldn't ask for a better main event.

John: Excellent analysis....for once.

The Lights in the arena dim down as a slightly red hue covers the arena. Inside the ring, Emissary looks up from the canvas to the tron, the corner of his lip curling as the tron comes to life.

The crowd was fired up ready to see this get underway, Most of them cheered expecting to see Storm dance out onto the stage, But when the music began, itr was clear that this was anything like a typical entrance for The Real Deal. Only moments into the video did the crowd go quiet watching moments from Storm's past flash by on the tron. Emissary watched too, His eyes burning into the screen as his heart pounded hard inside his chest. As the Beat of the Kettle Drum hit, Emissary watched what some would consider a video lesson if you will.

For Each time Storm was down, He found away to fight back. Emissary knew this was no easy task. Perhaps that's why he picked Storm as a starting point. To put down the man who could not be put down. He watched each devastating blow to Storm followed up with the dreaded lightning strike....all in tune to the beat of the drum. If there was one thing History had taught many a people in this sport, it's that Storm could take a beating that would kill most anyone....and keep coming back for more. Back at the start of his career in the CWF of CSlam of old, A manager of a man Storm had defeated was qouted in a wrestling magazine one saying "I saw you beat that man like I've never seen no man get beat before......and the man kept coming after you."

And then up on the tron the images faded into three words.


The Curtains parted and Storm walked out on to the stage stopping just shy of the ramp itself.

The crowd's reaction of cheers was not for Storm, No....The crowd's cheers were nothing more then anticipation for the bloodshed that waited just around the corner. Storm stood holding the case showing no reaction to the crowd, His eyes locked on Emissary's. Then with one swift movement, Storm flipped the case off to his left were it hit the staged and skittered of the side......his infamous Weapon of choice....American Express resting in his left hand.

His eyes never left Emissary's or vice versa. Still walking at an even pace, He made his way down to ringside and much like when Emissary made his entrance, the ring announcer stood quietly. Storm looked up into the ring as Emissary backed off "Allowing" him to enter. Placing both hands and the sledge down on the apron, The Real Deal slid slowly under the bottom rope and then raised to his feet in no apparent rush to do so.

With him in his own corner and Emissary in his, The Lights came back up as the announcer raised his mic.

Ring Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to Our MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING! This is a No Holds Barred, No Disqualification, Falls Count Anywhere Gauntlet match. The only rule to follow is that each man is allowed to bring his weapon of choice!

And now the participants in tonight's Main event. To my left wearing the black and gold short trunks, he stands 6'4 and weights in at 230 pounds. He hails from San Francisco California, The "Legacy To Be"....EMISSARY!

Emissary gave no reaction, he stood eyes locked on Storm.

Ring Announcer: And to my right, Wearing the Black and Red tights, He stands 6'1 and weighs in at 221 pounds, he hails from Miami Florida, The "Real Deal", The "Most Manipulative Bastard In Wrestling".........STORM!!

Much like his counterpart across the ring, Storm didn't flinch or move a single muscle. The announcer made his way out of the ring as both men stood across staring at each other in what could be a battle of wills to see who might blink first.

Hank: I guess we're set but I don't see a referee. Are they just going to go at it till one of them can't go anymore or what?

John: It's my understanding that a special Referee has been assigned to this match. From what I'm hearing in my headset he should be coming out any second now.

Hank: Another twist?

John: With these two involved? Without a doubt.



Paragon: With these two involved? Without a doubt. Of course, it could just be an attempt by the Powerbase to keep a certain level of order here that maybe most officials wouldn't be able to keep.

Nonetheless, without a bell, Emissary and Storm walked out to the center of the ring to meet each other, Storm with American Express in his hand, Emissary still holding the Fist of Karma in its case. Their eyes locked on one another, they pressed their foreheads together. Their mouths drawn tight, there was no doubt that they didn't so much as exchange words.

Paragon: Look at the eyes. That's where the story is here, folks. Emissary has the height advantage, but Storm has no problem getting right into his face. And neither man too quick to get this battle underway.

Hank: They know what it's going to be once it starts. There's no stopping this thing once it gets going.

Paragon: Right you are, partner. The month of April has done nothing but lead these men to this point, but now that the moment is here, you can see the slightest hesitation. Once the first blow is delivered, these guys are bound to tear each other apart.

The sellout crowd was in an uproar as the two men stood face-to-face, a sudden "Kick his ass!" chant taking hold, but for who nobody knew.

And when the tron popped to life for the third time already, and the thumping music filled the arena, a new cheer threatened to tear the roof off the building.

Paragon: Oh my! Is this what I think it is?

And when Carnage stepped out onto the stage, wearing a black and white referee's shirt, the crowd actually managed to get -louder-.

Hank: -WHAT-?!?

Paragon: I can't believe what I'm seeing! As if this match wasn't big enough already, one of the most decorated men to ever lace up a pair of boots is going to be our referee for this one! I can guarantee you, nobody's going to be abusing the referee tonight!

Both men in the ring broke their stare to watch Carnage come down the ramp. Emissary gave no sign, no smile at the latest spoil from his campaigning with the Powerbase. No sign that this legend in a referee's suit was his ace in the hole.

Carnage, without missing a step, slid under the bottom rope, and pushed himself up to his feet. Without even glancing at either man in the ring, he strode between them, and signaled to the time keeper to ring the bell.

And at those three simple sounds, the match was officially begun.

Paragon: And we're underway here, folks! With this crowd still on their feet, I can barely hear myself think!

Hank: No big loss, partner.

Paragon: What?

Hank: I said it's going to be a big match, partner!

And with only Carnage between them, Emissary and Storm resumed their staredown until Carnage gave them the signal to begin, and stepped out of the way.

The fans were ready for them to explode into each other, but it didn't come. Still, they stood apart, neither taking the first move, neither taking the chance that the other had a counter in mind.

Paragon: And the mind games we've seen all month... here they are, carrying right over into this huge match.

And to that end, Emissary, still in his entrance robe, held the case with his Fist of Karma out to his side. Eyes on Storm, he knelt to one knee, gently set the case on the mat. And, to the amazement of everyone in attendance, he slid it away from himself toward the corner and stood, hands displayed to Storm as if to welcome him into starting this one clean.

Hank: Now there's honor for you! Let's see if the Real Deal is big enough to take the challenge!

Storm watched Emissary, then his eyes strayed to the case Emissary slid into the corner. He held the barbed wire wrapped sledgehammer up in front of his face, both for his own benefit and Emissary's. And as the crowd shouted for him to hit Emissary with it, Storm set the head of the hammer on the mat, and let it fall over onto its side. In the end, he kicked it to the side.

The Real Deal shook his head at the Uncrowned Prince. "I don't need it."

And as soon as he finished speaking, he launched himself at Emissary, tackling the Legacy to Be, robe and all, to the mat, laying into him with a series of rights and lefts as he tried to give himself a good position on top of the younger man.

But as soon as Emissary went down, he was thrashing and rolling to try to get himself away from Storm's all out assault. While the crowd exploded at the sight of Storm pouncing, Emissary was already shoving him away, and pushing himself back. Finally, with Storm swinging wildly and unbalanced, Emissary managed to shove him over, forcing him to brace himself on his hands, and Emissary rolled away.

But just as Emissary was rolling to his feet, Storm had already pushed himself back up, and tackled Emissary again just as he was coming up, the force of the blow carrying both of them through the ropes to the outside.

Paragon: Storm wasting -no- time taking this fight right to Emissary now that this thing is underway! Both combatants tumbling to the outside!

And when they did, Storm never lost his grip on Emissary, rolling on top of him again, pounding away at the man that had tormented his family, defiled the grave of his nephew, and all along had blamed Storm for everything he'd done. This was vindication, and while it was nowhere near the length he intended to go, for now it felt good. For now, it would do.

Emissary managed to roll onto his stomach under Storm, first covering the back of his head. Then, when he realized his escape was before him, he planted his palms on the concrete and pushed himself off the ground, effectively bucking Storm off his back.

And when he did, he kept rising up to his feet, staggering away, his robe threatening to get caught under a foot. And as he retreated around the ring, Storm came running, vaulted off the steel steps, and bulldogged Emissary on the outside.

His momentum, though, carried him past the Legacy to Be, where he slid across the floor before popping to his feet with a scream for the crowd as they cheered for the early carnage.

Speaking of Carnage, he was leaning against the turnbuckle, elbows propped up on the top rope, passively watching what was going on outside.

And as the camera came back around to Emissary, there was already blood pooling under him as he shook his head, trying to get his bearings to get back to his feet. The impact with the concrete had broken his nose, an eruption of blood instantly ran down his mouth and chin, onto his chest, before dripping to the floor.

Hank: Even when Emissary wants this to be a good, clean fight, Storm has to go and ruin it!

Paragon: There you have it, folks. This one's barely a minute in, and we've already got blood drawn!

Storm, driven into more of a combat frenzy at the sight of Emissary's blood, came in for the kill as the Legacy to Be managed to get up to his knees. But as Storm prepared to deliver the next blow, Emissary grabbed him by the waistband of his pants, and threw himself back, launching Storm shoulder-first into the ringsteps that had moments ago been his ally. The echo thundered threw the arena.

Hank: Oh-HO!

Paragon: And there's that opportunistic offense Emissary is so good at. A more clearheaded Storm wouldn't have been victimized by that. You have to believe that, as this match progresses, and the nerves settle for both men, that sort of thing isn't going to happen.

Hank: Well, the important thing is it -did- happen, and that's bought Emissary some time here.

The rare good call from Hank was right on the money, as Emissary was already pulling himself up on the apron. On his feet again, he put a hand to his face, pulled it away and grimaced at the blood, his face twisting up into a masque of pure rage as he turned back to Storm.

"Sonofabitch..." the camera's caught him muttering.

Paragon: Look out here. Looks like Emissary is losing his composure in a hurry. And lately that's only made him more dangerous!



The Legacy to Be stalked forward as Storm pulled himself up with the steps. His head cocked to one side, admiring the sight of his opponent struggling to get up, Emissary kicked at the back of Storm's knee, forcing him back down. He followed that with a stiff boot to the back of Storm's head forcing him to his hands and knees.

With a hop back, Emissary rushed in and planted a stiff kick up into Storm's ribs, sending the Real Deal tumbling against the steps and ring apron, holding at his side.

Paragon: This one has still only just begun, folks, but it's already quickly turning brutal. This is what I was afraid of.

Hank: Afraid of?! Are you kidding? This is what these people paid to see!

Paragon: Well, that may be the case, but it doesn't mean I have to like seeing two men destroy each other...

With his hands planted on the ring apron, Emissary dropped a knee into Storm's ribs, driving the air from his lungs, focusing in on one target. Again, he fell. And again.

Finally, aware that he was in a bad way if he let Emissary keep at him, Storm used the impact from the third knee drop to roll himself under the ring.

"What the fuck?" Emissary said as Storm vanished.

Hank: You see that? That's -dirty-! People shouldn't be allowed to go under the ring!

The Legacy to Be fell to his knees, threw up the ring apron and glared into the darkness under the ring. There were trash cans, tables, steel chairs, piles of brass knuckles, a machete, Johnny Rude's pansy little knife that Paul Hogan would laugh at, unused signage, Doink the Clown, and what might have been a muffler. But no Storm.

And while Emissary stuck his head deeper into the dark in hopes of finding something, Storm slipped out the adjacent side of the ring, clutching at his ribs with one arm. He came around the ring to see Emissary's legs sticking out from under the ring. With new purpose, he seemed to forget the pain in his side, took Emissary by the ankle, and hauled him out from under the ring, raised his leg high up in the air, and slammed the Uncrowned Prince's knee into the concrete.

While Emissary thrashed on the ground, his knee drawn up tight against his chest, teeth clenched as he growled in pain, Storm fell back against the apron clutching at his ribs.

Paragon: This early in this match, and you can already see the toll it's taking.

Hank: And we haven't even seen those weapons put to use yet.

Paragon: I shudder to think...

Nonetheless, while Emissary pulled himself up with the guardrail, Storm was climbing the turnbuckle.

Paragon: This isn't going to end well, folks.

Hank: You know... you're always so freakin' negative.

And just as Emissary turned to find Storm once more, the Real Deal was airborne. The Legacy to Be only had the time to see him through the air, his only reaction his eyes going wide before Storm caught him high with a flying crossbody. The Uncrowned Prince's back was driven against the steel guardrail before both men tumbled over the railing and into the stands, dousing themselves in someone's soda. On the way over, Emissary's boot caught a shirtless young man across the face, knocking him to the floor too.

Paragon: And into the stands they go! We need to clear those people out of there before somebody really gets hurt.

Hank: Lawsuits are not fun. It's a fact.

Storm forced himself back to his feet, kicked an empty seat the hell out of his way, sending it cartwheeling through the air, deeper into the sea of humanity. Security personnel and event staffers rushed to the area to get between the fans and the action, trying to keep the bystanders away from the action.

Before Emissary could recover, Storm was on him again, delivering stomps all over his body. With both hands on the railing for balance, he really started to get into it, not caring what he struck, only that he did. It was a visual oddly reminiscent of the one at To The Extreme, when the Legacy to Be had done the same.

And when Storm was satisfied with that course of action, he stomped away from Emissary, letting out another primal scream. Whether it was for the sake of the fans, or for himself alone, the people in attendance let out a cheer at the sound of it.

Paragon: Storm is absolutely a man possessed here. This has looked nothing like a wrestling match to this point. Both men can certainly get it done in the ring, but right now we're watching an out and out brawl. And I have to say, Emissary is getting absolutely what he deserves so far.

Storm returned to his opponent, the man that had targeted his family, and hauled him up to his feet, only to slam his head against the steel railing. Then a second time. Rather than a third, though, he pressed Emissary's throat against the rail, and leaned all his weight on it, choking the Uncrowned Prince right there in the stands.

"Is this what you wanted?" Storm chided the younger star. "Is this really what you were after? Huh? TELL ME!"

Hank: ... you got a comment about Storm losing it?

Paragon: Well... you know, I hate to quote anything Emissary's said, but... what Storm is doing here? This is Emissary's fault.

Hank: Figures.

And while he leaned against the Uncrowned Prince, still choking off his air supply, Storm started delivering stiff knees to Emissary's stomach and ribs.

Out of sheer desperation, the Legacy to Be managed to free one hand from Storm's grasp, reached up and jammed his thumb into the Real Deal's eye. And still, Storm didn't release him immediately. He only held him down, dealing with the pain a moment longer, until he finally turned away. As he walked away, one eye shut, giving his head a shake, Emissary fell into a sitting position against the steel guardrail.

The fans in the area, inspired by Storm's barrage, started into a "Kick his ass!" chant again. If you listened carefully, there was a smattering of "Storm's gonna kill you!"

Emissary coughed, gagged, did everything he could to try to get a taste of the precious air he needed. And as he did, he planted his feet, pushing himself along the steel, toward the security personnel and the crowd beyond them.

Storm came back around, his vision in one eye blurred, but still set his sights once more on the man that had declared his intent to force Storm and everyone he cared for right out of the business. Once more, he attacked.

But as he came in, Emissary, his shoulder pressed against the back of a burly security man's knee, reached back and caught the man by the seat of his pants, and pulled him back. He stumbled over the Uncrowned Prince's shoulder, and in an attempt to keep his footing, barreled right into the oncoming Storm, sending the both of them tumbling to the concrete.

But, the Real Deal was quick to push the big man off of himself, and was quickly getting back to his feet to resume the onslaught.

And Emissary saw that. Frantically, he pulled himself up on another security guard before retreating into the fans, shoving people out of his way with reckless abandon. Down went a small boy jumping up and down at the excitement, down went a teenage girl that was -totally- checking him out, down went anybody that got in the way of his escape.

Still, Storm followed over the litter of bodies Emissary threw in his way.

Paragon: And that despicable Emissary is showing absolutely no regard for the well-being of the people in the stands!

Hank: Bitches be trippin' Emo...

The Uncrowned Prince stumbled into another fan just as said spectator was raising his camera for a picture. Without a thought, Emissary wrenched the camera out of his hand by the wrist strap. With Storm gaining, the Legacy to Be whirled blindly, and swung the digital camera up over his head.

It impacted squarely on top of Storm's head, and exploded, sending plastic and batteries in every direction. The blow staggered the Real Deal, and he fell into a father trying to keep his children out of harm's way.

And Emissary pounced on Storm's back, forcing all three men to the floor, as the Uncrowned Prince wildly rained down with forearms, with no care for where they landed, or even who they landed on. Some caught Storm in the back of the head, across the back of the neck, while still others were planted into the face of the unsuspecting fan that had come down with them.

Paragon: Dammit, somebody's got to get out there and get them away from the fans! Somebody's going to get hurt out there!

And finally, Carnage rolled out of the ring, headed for the guardrail. It seemed he intended to do just that.



It was like getting hit with a triphammer as Emissary brought forearm after forearm down into Storm's head and shoulders. Near the Guardrail, Carnage was making his way into the crowd. Security had surrounded the downed men and began Pulling Emissary off Storm and the downed fan. As two of them yanked Emissary up and away from Storm, The Real Deal Scrambled to his feet and lunged at Emissary. More Security rushed in with 3 of them pulling Storm back while another man joined the two holding Emissary. Another security guy was checking on the downed man as Carnage drew closer.

And then the most unthinkable thing happened, Emissary turned on the security personal holding him as Storm did the same.....and the two men who wanted nothing more then to spill each others blood, started working together......against Security.

John: And now both men have turned on the security guys! Emissary is a house of fire and Storm is firing off like a madman!

Hank: How can you NOT LOVE THIS SHIT!!

Carnage was close now but as Emissary and Storm fought off Security he stopped and watched. Emissary had already taken down one man with a swift boot to the groin. Another was on the verge of falling after taking repeated shots to the jaw, Across from him, Storm had one of his own down after a vicious blow to the head with his knee. The second Security guy took a brutal headbutt right across the bridge of his nose.

John: This is totally out of hand now as Emissary and Storm are just Plowing through security.

Hank: That'll teach them to stick thier noses where they don't belong!

With only two security guys left standing, Storm looked at Emissary and Emissary looked back at Storm. Something unsaid must have passed between them and in that moment, Storm whipped his guy towards Emissary. Emissary whipped his guy towards Storm, And with almost perfect timing, they tandem clotheslined the guys whipped towards them. Both Rivals turned to face one another....both grinning.....and then as if the slight show of teamwork hadn't been enough of a suprise, Storm actually pointed to one of the Security guys getting up behind Emissary.

John: Am I seeing things or is Storm actually helping Emissary here?

Hank: I don't know......How the hell should I know? I just love all this VIOLENCE!!

John: Emissary whirls around and picks up the Security guy for a......what the hell?!?! TWO MAN REVERSE DDT!!

Emissary went for what looked to be a German Suplex but Storm Ran up behind him, grabbed the Guard by the head, and then both men dropped him hard to the floor. The crowd exploded. With Security now out of the way, Both men stood up and surveyed all the damage they had caused. Now convinced they could get back to the matter at hand, they both whirled on each other and the fists started to fly with more reckless abandon.

John: And here they go again!! What a rollercoaster ride this is! First they rip each other apart, Then they work together to beat the hell out of security, and now they're tearing into each other again.

Hank: I think I may have just soiled my pants.

John: Well I'm happy you're enjoying this so much.

As the fists kept on coming, it was Emissary who finally got the upper hand. he rocked Storm back with a left, then another, then another until the Real Deal was almost in another fans lap. Having seen the rampage from earlier, most of the fans scattered but one overzealous fan ran towards the men screaming for Storm to take the steel chair he had. He wanted him to Bash Emissary with it.

Emissary cut the kid off with a well placed boot to his midsection and grabbed the chair out of midair as the fan dropped it falling to the floor. Carnage took another step towards the foes thinking Emissary might use the chair on the kid, Instead, Emissary pulled back ready to unload on Storm's cranium. He swung down hard looking for the point of Storm's head.

John: This is going to be....NO!! Storm Caught the Chair!! He caught it and yanked it away from Emissary!!

It was nothing but pure instinct, the reaction to grab the chair as it came down. Storm quickly turned it around and swung at Emissary who dived into the crowd to avoid the blow. Emissary got up quickly and whirled around expecting Storm to come after him. Storm motioned for Emissary to come out of the crowd but he shook his head no as the crowd moved and he moved along with them.

Storm: Come on motherfucker!! Is this what you wanted?!?!

And then for no reason whatsoever, Storm started to pound himself in the forehead with the chair.......and on the 4th blow, busted his own head open. The Blood flew off the chair spraying the crowd as the crimson liquid stained his face. He threw the chair into the crowd not caring where it landed or who it might hit.....and again motioned for Emissary to come forward with another scream of rage.

The move was meant to intimidate and that's exactly what it did, Storm took off after Emissary and the legacy to be only went further into the crowd.

John: What the hell is wrong with this guy!?! He just busted his own damn head open!

Hank: Are you kidding? This is FANTASTIC!! Emissary bleeding from a broken nose, Storm bleeding from the head....and all this in less then 10 minutes!! I've died and gone to heaven!

With the crowd so thick farther into the seats, Storm started pushing people to the side but quickly lost track of Emissary.........the same could not be said for the Legacy To Be as he used the crowd to circle round behind Storm....and when the opening came, He rushed up behind him and brought a knee up into Storm's ribs. Before Storm could even acknowledge the pain that shot through his side, Emissary shoved him hard from behind sending Storm spilling onto the row of seats in front of him.....his ribs slamming hard across the backs of the chairs.

John: Emissary getting some serious shots in now on those hurt Ribs of Storm and it looks as if the crowd is learning quickly as they run like sheep from the wolves scattering in all directions!

Now it was Emissary's turn, He leaned across the back of the Real Deal pushing his ribs down harder into the edge of the seats as he shoved Storm's throat up against another seat choking off his air supply.

Emissary: I told you it was going to be instant you reap what you sow!

All Storm could do was gurgle as this awkward position gave him no leverage with which to work. With the full weight of Emissary on his back, he was helpless. Emissary kept the pressure on even going as far as to lift his whole body up just to drop it back on Storm causing him to slam harder into the edges of the seat. On the third Jump, Emissary and Storm went off balance spilling both men to the floor.

John: The Legacy To be is back up and now he's dragging Storm up by his hair! He's making his way into the aisle and up the ramp! Where the hell is he going?

Hank: Oh God, Someone in the back get the camera's ready, we can't afford to miss any of the action.

Emissary took Storm into the back and for the next minute and a half the crowd was able to settle back in thier seats. John and Hank were forced to recap the action as no one had a live shot of what was transpiring backstage.

Hank: I loved it when Snuck up on him. That was Great.

John: He surely did a number on Storm and his ribs with those chai....wait....we got a camera backstage now....and it should be.....HOLY CHRIST!!

Hank: OH MY GOD!! PRICELESS!! Emissary Just tossed Storm through a plate glass window backstage!!!

Although unsure of what had gone down during that good minute and a half of blackout, one thing was certain when the camera's came back on, Whatever had gone down back there, Emissary hadn't lost a bit of control.


Stan Daniels
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Anarchy In The UK: Gauntlet Match Emissary vs Storm Part 1 Empty Anarchy In The UK: Gauntlet Match Emissary vs Storm Part 2

Post  Stan Daniels on Fri Jan 21, 2011 10:46 am


Paragon: My god! The blood is streaming down Storm's face here.

Indeed it was, running into a pile of broken glass as Emissary kicked in the door of the small office he'd just sent Storm into. The receptionist inside skidded out of her chair, curling up in the corner as the camera man jockeyed for position, looking through the broken out window.

The glass crunched under Emissary's feet as he approached, imbedded in Storm's arm as he tried to push himself up to a more stable base. But the Legacy to Be stomped him back down into a heap on the glass. And there, Emissary stepped up onto Storm's back and jumped, thrusting his legs down as he landed, driving Storm's chest and stomach into the glass all the more.

In spite of himself, Storm let out a scream at the pain.

Hank: Ho ho hooo...

Paragon: How this was even sanctioned by the PowerBase is beyond me.

Still standing on Storm's back, Emissary pressed his boot against the back of Storm's head, and pressed his face into the glass. "Is this what I wanted?" he said, mocking Storm. Then he fell to his knees, mounted over the Real Deal. Leaning in close to Storm's head, he said, "Not yet it's not."

And with that, he ground Storm's face into the glass again, pulling his head from side to side, embedding pieces of glass in his cheek.

Paragon: Come on! If somebody doesn't put a stop to this, neither one of these men is ever going to compete again!

Fueled by the lancing pain through his face, Storm desperately planted an elbow into Emissary's ribs. A second dislodged the Legacy to Be from his back, and sent him tumbling across the glass-littered floor.

The Uncrowned Prince rolled up to a knee, though, and was back on the attack.

Until Storm gathered a handful of glass shards and threw them up at the Uncrowned Prince. Emissary shielded his face with his arms to keep anything from getting into his eyes, and skidded off balance on the glass.

Storm took advantage, forcing himself up to his knees, he caught Emissary in a makeshift spinebuster.

Paragon: Oh! Can you imagine what that feels like? On glass and concrete?

Hank: I'm trying not to, John. Can you pass the kleenex?

Paragon: ...

Storm pulled himself up on top of Emissary, and after a forearm across the bridge of his broken nose to keep him down, he took the Legacy to Be by both ears, and started pounding the back of his head against the floor. Once more, a reversed version of something Emissary had done, this time to avenge the attack on Eve Riley.

Paragon: And you can see Storm is fighting this battle not just for himself, but for everyone Emissary targeted during his despicable campaign against Storm.

Hank: I beg to differ, John. I think this one is all for himself. He's loving every second of this.

Paragon: Honestly, Hank, I don't think either of these men is capable of loving what they're doing right now. This has become so personal to them, there's no enjoyment here.

And as Storm finally ceased his attack, his eyes settled on a metal file cabinet in the small room. Through no small effort, he forced himself up to his feet, fell against the cabinet, and toppled it over onto the prone Emissary. It crashed down, the drawers popping out, spilling paper all over the floor, effectively covering some of the glass.

Storm, though, quickly kicked the cabinet away, and pulled a dazed Emissary to his feet, and tossed him back out the office door. Staffers that had gathered at the window to watch the brutality scattered as the Real Deal came stumbling out of the office.

Emissary, clearly unable to think clearly, did the only thing his body knew to do, and tried to commando crawl away. Storm, though, caught him by the ankle and started dragging him down the corridor as the Legacy to Be frantically scrambled to catch hold of something that would save him. And as such, he managed to catch hold of an extension cord that stretched across the corridor. It was, though, not secured to the floor, and it only followed with him as he was drug.

Until it reached the end of its slack between the areas it was plugged in, and Storm's progress ground to a halt. The Real Deal dropped Emissary's ankle, looked around for something to strike him with.

And, lo and behold, he just happened to be standing next to the catering table. And there, right in the middle of the table, was the night's coffee supply. Storm yanked it away from the wall and poured the coffee over Emissary's back. The Legacy to Be arched his back and let out a desperate wail.

And when the container was empty, Storm cracked Emissary over the back of the head with it, putting a dent in the metal side. He admired the dent for just a moment before tossing the container aside.

In that moment, a crazed fan ran into the picture, screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to get into the camera shot.


And as he turned to take a look at the action again, Storm caught him under the chin with a Lightning Strike.

Hank: You know, sometimes I really like that guy.

Paragon: Well, no surprise here. This match has thrown everything out of whack. We really need to get a lock on what's going on here!

But the delay proved enough for Emissary. As Storm lifted him up again, trying to get him to his feet, Emissary caught him with a low blow that brought him to his knees.

As quickly as he could manage, which wasn't terribly impressive given the damage he'd taken, Emissary managed to get to his feet, the extension cord still clutched in his hand. He wrapped the cable around Storm's neck twisted it around once to make it just that much more difficult to escape from. Then, he put one boot between Storm's shoulders and leaned back with everything he had.

His eyes blazing madness, Emissary stood on one foot, the other giving Storm no room to move, as he choked the life out of him.

Paragon: If somebody doesn't stop this... if Storm can't get out of this... I don't doubt for a second that this man intends to kill him!



There he stood, The Legacy To Be, His back Bloody with shards of glass and red as a sunburn from the hot coffee, Blood dripping down his upper lip and jaw from the busted nose, The Extension cord wrapped around Storm's throat choking the life right out of him. The Real Deal, Down on his knees at the mercy of his foe, Blood running from a 2 inch gash in his forehead, More blood from cuts and shards of glass buried in his cheeks, Ribs throbbing and already tender from the work Holland had done to him earlier in the week.

John: I see no way out for Storm here.....None! Isn't anyone going to do something?

Hank: Your ass ain't glued to the chair last time I checked, Why don't you go help him?

Emissary continued to pull on the cord with all his might as Carnage finally found his way up to the mayhem. His shadow on the floor enough to force the Legacy To Be to cast a glance over his shoulder. When he did that, he gave Storm just enough leeway to pull his body forward throwing his foe off balance. Emissary hit the concrete on his shoulder as Storm fell on his face pulling the cord loose from his throat.

The jarring hit to the floor on his shoulder didn't do that much damage but it was enough to slow him down a bit and it gave Storm time to get the cord from around his neck. Before Storm could get on his knees or push himself up, Emissary was already on his feet pulling at Storm's long blonde locks. It was all Storm could do not to be completely dragged farther down the hallway. He'd get to a foot only to stumble to his knees, get dragged a bit more, get a foot up, and then stumble again.

John: Now where the hell are they going?

Hank: Emissary is doing what he needs to do John and he'll use whatever he has to be it backstage or out here in front of us. I can tell you this though, This isn't even close to over.

Sucking in air in great gulps, Storm couldn't seem to get enough into his lungs as Emissary drug him over to where the makeup and costume personal set up. Still holding Storm by the hair, Emissary took in what was avialble to him and a slow grin crossed his face. He picked up a nearby blow dryer off the table and clocked Storm across the temple with it. Storm slumped to the floor face first.

John: And I think we got some seriously cruel intentions here as Emissary is clearing off that table after nailing Storm with that blow dryer.

Hank: You're more then right John. He has a mirror and he's laying it on the table.

There were four mirrors total in the area each one 4 foot by 4 foot. The Legacy To Be Placed one on the end of the table, Then went for the second one. Two more trips netted him the last two and what he had created when he was done was a mirror covered table. On the ground, Storm had finally caught his breath but the damage had still taken it's toll. Emissary yanked him up slowly to his knees, slapped him across the face, and then leaned down close to his ear.

Emissary: Now this.....This is getting close to what I want.

He yanked Storm to his feet and pulled him up next to the table. He went to lift up the Real Deal intent on driving him through the table and the mirrors......But Storm had other ideas. He had taken the breather on the floor and used it to let all the pain rush into his mind. Thus far he had allowed his anger, rage, and hate to be his main focus taking his most valuable asset away from himself. Now with the pain able to flow freely, He harnessed it and used it to turn the tide.

As Emissary went to lift him up, Storm reached out and grabbed hold of one of the 4 mirrors on the table. He brought a knee up into Emissary's midsection doubling him over. Storm stumbled back away from his grip and as The Legacy To be Tried to stand up straight, Storm hammered him over the head with the mirror shattering it to pieces.

Hank: WHOA NELLY!! Call The Yankees Because I think we got a new slugger on our hands. Did you see the way he bashed Emissary in the head with that?!?!

John: All I see is Roman Gladiator style fight were both warriors wanting to kill each other for the win. This is barbaric.

Hank: Jesus, Emissary is still on his feet!

How the man stayed on his feet was beyond reason as new, fresh blood began to seep from cuts along his forehead. The Legacy To Be Staggered, tittered, and almost went down....but managed to stay upright. Across from him, that sly cocky smirk emerged on Storm's bloody face. He shrugged, grabbed another mirror, and was ready to clobber Emissary again but his rival had another simple in fact it caught Storm off guard. As he raised the mirror to strike again, Emissary reached out blindly, caught the edges, and forced the mirror back down over Storm's own head.

Hank: And there goes 14 years of bad luck, 7 apeice for each man if you're scoring at home.

John: And now it's Storm refusing to fall. What the hell is keeping these men up?

Hank: Pride, Hatred, Rage? You name it.

Still wobbling and barely standing, Emissary smirked and grabbed another mirror. At the same time Storm somehow reached out and grabbed the last one. Emissary swung first shattering the third mirror over Storm's head. Storm out of nowhere and beyond comprehension somehow got a shot off of his own shattering his mirror on Emissary's head. Both men staggered, Wobbled, and then collapsed into each other before falling to the floor side by side..

Hank: And man did they just knock the SHIT out of each other!!

John: And it looks as if Carnage might actually have something to do now. Hopefully he makes a quick 10 count so this ends before we need to call a funeral home.

Carnage had followed along so far and now with both men down, he strolled over slowly to them. He bent down to get a good look, and then began a slow.......very slow 10 count.

John: My God man....Count faster. I mean Emissary is suppose to be his friend. Why is he counting so damn slow?

Hank: Maybe because he knows a draw won't settle anything.

John: So were suppose to what? Let one kill the other or watch both of them die?

Hank: Welcome to Drama Queen, Population You. Come on John. Stop with all the bull. What we got is a damn good and brutal fight on our that's well on the way to eclipsing anything we've seen before. have a little faith would you?

John: But they're going to kill each other.

Carnage had managed to get to five......and niether man had moved and inch.

Hank: I hardly think anyone is going to die tonight. Both of these men have proven they can take beatings most normal men can't. I for one think this is the best damn Main Event we've had yet and I'm not willing to see it stopped because you got a weak stomach Mr Superhero.

John: I'm all for settling a score but sometimes you have to keep things in check no matter how bad you hate someone.

Hank: Please.

John: Look at what they've done to each other so far.....I mean innocent fans are getting hurt.

Hank: Then they should have moved out of the way faster.

John: You're an asshole.

Hank: I love you to.

Carnage had made it to nine slowing the count down to a crawl. In reality, he could have counted to 30 by now. As he held his hands up to drop the final number that would bring this match to a halt, Both men suddenly sat up......leaning on each other's shoulders.

Emissary: You done?

Storm: Not by....a long

Emissary: In your.....dreams.

Another surprise greeted everyone watching as Emissary and Storm actually helped each other back to thier feet. Storm staggered to the left, Emissary staggered to the right.

John: What the freakin hell is up with these two? They just helped each other off the ground!?!

Hank: See Joan.....Get your panties out of your ass crack. They want to go stow all this they want to die crap.

John: Storm tries to swing at Emissary and falls across the table! Emissary swings and totally misses falling across the table himself!

The table gave way under thier weight and snapped in two. Both men hit the ground and lay in the splintered remains of the table........and then again....assisted each other back up.

John: And they did it again!

Hank: This is frickin awesome!

Storm then caught Emissary with a right, Emissary fired back with a left......Both of them connecting. Storm wobbled back as Emissary wobbled sideways. He tried to catch The Legacy To Be with another right but missed. Emissary slipped his arm around Storm's. Flipped him around, and shoved him hard into the wall. Storm bounced back off the wall and Emissary caught him with one arm around his neck. With Storm secured, He moved towards the staircase. He began to walk Storm up the steps as every so often, Storm would kidney punch him with his right hand.....and for each blow that landed, Emissary would fire off with one of his own into the side of Storm's head.

Clearly, Emissary's shots doing way more damage.

John: Great, Now they're working thier way up to the second level of the arena....and I don't think going UP is a grand idea. What was that you said about no one getting killed?

Hank: I may have to stand corrected.



The camera man followed as best he could as Emissary pulled Storm up the narrow service stairs with him. But the shot was compromised as Carnage forced his way past the camera man, knocking him down in the process, to follow the action.

Paragon: Alright, folks... it looks like once again, we're having some technical difficulties here, getting a camera into position. I'm... I'm being told that fall has broken the camera we had back there, so... I mean, I don't know.

Hank: Are you kidding me?! Get someone back there! How are we -missing- our main event?!

Paragon: Well... it's not that easy, partner. We don't have anyone in position right now. It could be a... wait a minute! Look there!

And finally one of the cameras in the arena zoomed into the second level where Storm had stumbled out from a concessions tunnel, and managed to hang a quick left, following the path to the next section. The fans in the area, slow learners apparently, crowded the area as security, caught off guard, tried to get control over the situation one more time.

Emissary, bloodied and clearly favoring the knee that had been slammed on the concrete, as well as the shoulder that had most recently taken a hard fall, emerged from the tunnel, staggering in pursuit. One fan, young looking man, managed to slip by security, and reached out to touch the Uncrowned Prince on the arm. Emissary, though, recoiled from the touch and responded with a hard shove that sent the fan tumbling down the steps that led to the balcony.

Carnage emerged last, content to just watch the mayhem as it unfolded.

The Uncrowned Prince continued the pursuit, catching Storm from behind. He wrapped an arm around Storm's neck and dropped to the concrete, bringing Storm with him in an inverted backbreaker.

Paragon: I'll be damned. A wrestling move.

Hank: It was bound to happen sooner or later.

The Legacy to Be used the back of one of the last seats in the section to pull himself back to his feet. He stumbled past Storm and held a hand back to indicate his fallen foe to the fans crowding around the security personnel.

"Is that your Real Deal? That's the Manipulative Bastard?" Emissary scoffed, shaking his head. "This... -this- is what happens to people that take the easy way. -This- is what happens to people that can't stand on their own two feet without a scheme to do it. -This- is what happens to the people that stand against the will of karma!"

And while Emissary berated the crowd, trying to drive home his message, Storm had crawled to the wall, and was working toward his feet again.

The Uncrowned Prince spit a thick glob of blood into the fans to accentuate his point, and turned around.

Just in time to catch a vendor's tray to the side of the head. A great cloud of popcorn filled the air for just a moment as Emissary staggered back a step, shaking his head. Meanwhile, Storm forced himself forward, and delivered a second shot that spun Emissary. It was all the Legacy to Be could do to keep his feet, his back now to Storm, as he stumbled down the first step leading to the balcony. Then the sudden fall sent him tumbling down several steps.

Storm tossed the plastic tray aside, and gave chase, planting a boot into Emissary's face, sending him tumbling down a few more steps.

Paragon: Look out here... this is getting into no man's land...

Emissary, after catching himself on the railing that ran down the middle of the stairs, desperate for anything he could use to defend himself reached into the stands and yanked something else away from a fan. This time... a neon pink sign that read, "Eve... HOTTEST girl". He didn't even have the where-with-all to be disappointed at the find.

Instead, as Storm threw another right for the Uncrowned Prince's jaw, Emissary held up the sign and let it envelop Storm's hand, pulling him as the Legacy to Be threw himself back, effectively vaulting Storm down the steps. The Real Deal managed to pad his first landing as best he could with his forearms taking most of the damage, but he quickly rolled to the bottom, slamming against the low concrete barricade that served as the edge of the balcony.

Emissary, though, took his share of punishment from the move, only narrowly avoided cracking the back of his head on the edge of a step, and slid down several stairs on his back, before he hooked his foot on the railing for the stairs.

Security was thronging all around the edge of the aisles, keeping the fans at bay, making sure nothing could get out of hand that close to the edge of a long fall back to the floor level. And they did a fine job, right up until Emissary grabbed one of the security guards by his belt, in an attempt to pull himself to his feet. The sudden pull at the back of his pants surprised the guard and set him off balance.

And the fans, already worked up to a fever pitch by the brawl they were witnessing, stormed through the slight break in the defenses to crowd around the action.

The Legacy to Be didn't notice at first, as he stalked down the steps toward Storm. But as he slipped his hands under Storm's arms and hauled him to his feet, leaning back against the railing, partly hanging out over the drop, those same fans started to crowd around the two combatants.

Paragon: Oh, this is bad, folks. Somebody get up there!

Since the security had lost all sense of control in the area, Carnage was doing his best to force the fans away from the battle at hand, roughly shoving fans away. But he was only man, and while he removed one person from the fray, two or three more came in from the other side.

In the midst of it all, Emissary delivered a right hand to Storm, then another. And as Storm dangled, Emissary actually slipped a hand underneath him, as if this was a battle royal to be won.

Paragon: I can't believe what I'm seeing! Emissary is actually trying to -throw- Storm over the edge!

Hank: Do you have a camera?

But Storm held fast, quick to jam a thumb into the Uncrowned Prince's eye to put a quick end to that idea. When Emissary gave him an inch, Storm fired back with a right hand that would have sent Emissary staggering. But in this case, there was nowhere to go. The people had crowded in so tight, he hit them like a wall and stuck.

Storm fired again, and connected. And as Emissary set himself to return fire, there was a great surge from somewhere in the back of the thronging mass of humanity. Those watching from across the arena saw it move through the group like a great wave. And when it came to the forefront, it collided with Emissary, driving him forward into the Real Deal.

Both men desperately grasped at the railing, Carnage forced himself through the throng in a bid to pull both men back... but it was no use.

Paragon: No, no, NOOO!!!

Flashbulbs went off all around the building as the two men flipped over the railing and fell out into open air, tumbling wildy. Somewhere below, a woman screamed and covered her child's eyes, turning him away from what was happening. The raucous cheers silenced in an instant as everyone watched in horrified awe. To everyone in attendance, it seemed to happen in slow motion, the men falling as if it was some climactic scene out of a movie.

But to Storm and Emissary, the result was much more immediate. There was only the realization that their grip on the railing wouldn't save them, Emissary with the added feeling of Carnage's fingers running down his calf as his mentor tried to catch hold of him. Then their stomachs turned themselves inside out at the feeling of falling. They saw the ground approaching much too fast, and then they tumbled through the air so they couldn't even see that.

A horrible crash filled the arena as the men crashed through a table that had been placed on a raised wooden platform, then the platform itself. It might have been there for a staffers to watch the show without taking up sellable seats. But that didn't matter now. All that did matter was its presence was all that prevented two men from splattering on the concrete after what amounted to a two or three story fall.

Paragon: That's it! This one's over right now! Somebody ring the bell! Where's Carnage? Can we get a shot of him, please, to get the call that this match is being ended?

Hank: He's heading back up the aisle, John! He's going for the steps so he can get down there and keep calling this thing!

Paragon: No! Dammit, he should be counting this from up there and putting an end to this! This is outrageous!

And one of the camera men who had been stationed in the ring rushed through the crowd to get a close-up shot of the human wreckage.

Emissary and Storm lay in a tangled heap, great chunks of wood littered over their broken bodies. From Emissary's calf, a shard of wood nearly an inch wide protruded. There was no telling how deep it was, but blood flowed from the wound in a rush. Storm lay on his stomach, blood pooled under his face. Whether it was from old wounds, or something new, there was no telling just yet.

Hank: What a match!

Paragon: This isn't a match, damn it! Is -anybody- going to stop this madness? Please?!

And when the first shot of both men stirring, small though their movements were, the sellout crowd exploded in cheers that this thing might actually continue.

But just how long could it go on?



This was as real as it got, As intense as it could get.

Both men lay in the wreckage of a long fall...and then the REAL Mayhem started.

Stage hands, Officals, Ring Workers, Paramedics, Even Shelly and Stats came flying out of all directions. Carnage ran down the steps taking them by three's. He was the first to arrive at the sight of impact and he quickly started shoving fans back with force behind each push. As Ring crew and stage hands arrived Carnage played General telling them to post up and keep the fans at bay. Paramedics came in down the ramp in 2's, a total of 3 teams. Two rolling stretchers, 2 carrying backboards, and the last set carrying double the set of medical bags they relied on in a Trauma.

John: And finally we're going to have some order!

Hank: Look at them all John....Piling out of every access way possible. Here comes Grayson and Sarah Kincaid!

John: Now that the powerbase is here they'll end this thing right now.

Hank: Not if they want ratings they won't.

John: Have you not a decent bone in your body Hank??

Hank: I do but....

John: Just Shut Up! You better pray for these men....they could be dead.

Hank: Ok ok.....Here comes Storm's brother Maverick.......and is that....yeah....The Hot Girls are with him.....Eve and Chance are out here now along with Emma!

John: There not the only comes Pandora DeVil....and there's Amp!

Carnage and his soldiers kept the crowd at bay. The paramedics had a clear path to both men as Grayson and LDG barked orders to the officials to clear a path. Behind them, Maverick pushed his way around Grayson, Eve and Chance following hot on his heels, Across from him Sarah was pushed aside by Amp who had overtaken Pandora, Ms DeVil wasn't far behind and she ducked around the Alpha Female of the powerbase.

All concerned, all worried, they gathered around the Paramedics.

Paramedic Captain: PLEASE!! GET BACK!! GIVE US ROOM!

Maverick: How's my brother damn it!?!

Eve: Unka Jason....Can you hear us??

Pandora: Emissary!!

Amp: Come on man do something for him!!

Paramedic Captain: GET BACK NOW!!

Grayson moved forward and put a hand on Maverick's arm but he shrugged it off. He turned to see who touched him.

Grayson: Come on Mav....let them do thier me back these guys off a bit ok?

Maverick nodded, He motioned Eve and Chance back. As they took a few steps back, he tapped Amp on the arm and motioned him to move back. Normally Amp would have just ignored him but he understood the need to let the pros do thier job. He grabbed Pandora's hand and pulled her back.

John: Everyone has gathered round waiting to see what the condition of these two men are.

Hank: And it looks like most of the roster is now making it's way out on stage. Seems that everyone is concerned.

John: And they should be......let's just all pray that these guys are ok.

For the next several minutes it was quiet as a tomb inside the arena. Not a man, woman, or child made a sound. No one from the staff or the roster made a peep. The only sound was the Paramedic's talking to each other as they did thier assements. "C" Collars were put in place to stablize thier necks, then came the painstaking matter of getting them both on backboards. When they were set, The Paramedic Captain asked for Amp and Maverick to help them lift both men onto the stretchers.

John: This is bad Hank....very bad...I have yet to see either man move an inch.

Hank: You know you're right....and I'm sorry I lost my head.....I don't want to see anyone like this either.

John: I know Hank....I know. Well it looks like they have them both on the stretchers.

Carnage led the way as the stretchers were rolled down the aisle, As they got around the ring the paramedics rolled them up side by side. Maverick, Chance, and Eve on either side of Storm's stretcher, Amp and Pandora on the opposite side with Emissary. Whatever had been impaled in Emissary's leg had been removed, a large bandage had been wrapped around his calf. As for Storm.....Something had cut his head deeper as the bandage over his forehead was already soaking through with blood.....he also had a large square bandage on his shoulder.....possibly from an embedded chunk of the table. As they neared the top of the ramp, members of the roster started backing up, parting if you will like the Red Sea to make sure there was plenty of room for them all to get by.

John: And I guess that's it from Anarchy in The UK.....Are Main Event ending in what we only can hope is not tragedy. This has Been John Paragon Along with Hank Pro....

Hank: Hold the phone!! Emissary is trying to get up!!

John: You gotta be kidding me.

They stopped both stretchers just shy of the curtain as Emissary had managed to unhook one of the belts on the backboard freeing his upper body. The Paramedics tried to hold him back but they need more help. The second the ones on Storm's stretcher tried to help thier co-workers, Storm found his belt and unsnapped it.

John: And now Storm....Storm is getting free...someone stop them!

The second Storm Sat up, some of the paramedics tried to restrain him. That Gave Emissary the opening he needed. He shoved one paramedic back and then elbowed the other one. Freeing his legs he tried to stand up off the stretcher but wound up falling to the stage. Two of the Paramedics trying to get Storm to lie down turned to help him. That's when Storm shoved one paramedic towards the corner of the stage. The man pinwheeled his arms and lost his balance falling. His partner rushed over to check on him leaving Storm alone to unhook himself....then he too fell off the gurney to the floor.

John: This is just crazy.....Come on....someone step in.

Emissary fought with the paramedics on him and managed to rip the collar off from his neck. When he got to a knee it was Amp and Pandora trying to help him up. Likewise, Eve and Maverick tried to help Storm back up to put them on the gurney.

It was at that point it became clear that neither man was ready to blinded by pain and half out of thier minds...they began to swing.

John: Oh My God!! Storm Elbows Eve!!

Hank: Emissary just punched Amp in the face!!

John: And now they're searching for each other!! Storm swings and misses nailing Pandora!!

Hank: Emissary just tried for a forearm to Storm's head but hit Maverick instead!!

John: And now Grayson is trying to step between them and gets two fists to the either side of his head for his troubles!!

Storm finally ripped the collar off his neck and tossed it backwards . He shook his head, found Emmisary, and went right for him. Emissary was finally able to see Storm and likewise went after him. The two men ran headlong into each other, Fell, and started rolling down the ramp one on top of the other....fists flying.

Grayson stood up, watched them roll, and then waved his hands.

Grayson: If they want to kill each other let them....I'm done.

Grayson whistled loudly motioning for all staff membres to head backstage.

John: What the hell??? How can they let this go on?? Grayson is letting them continue???


John: But you said....

Hank: I Lied....DUH!!

John: Asshole!!

Some of the roster went back behind the curtain, others stayed out. Chance stood over Eve trying to help her up as Maverick got to a knee. Beside him, Amp and Pandora pushed themselves up.

And at the bottom of the ramp....laying in a twisted heap....the Legacy To Be....and the Legacy That is.....still trying to punch each others lights out.



They Crowd was almost ot the point of hysterics as the cheered on these two men who just didn't want to stop.

The Minds and hearts wanting to continue.......but it was becoming increasingly apparent that the bodies didn't.

The flurry of punches they traded rolling down the ramp had all but turned into "soft taps" with each shot coming from the other with less and less frequency. With one last blow that had nothing on it whatsoever, Emissary rolled to one side as Storm rolled to the other. Carnage had moved back to ringside and stood over both of them. He kneeled down to check on each man.

Carnage: You one is going to blame you guys if you just let this end now.

Emissary: no.......fucking.......*heaving breath*......way.

Storm: in your.........*gasp*......dreams.

Carnage: Ok...if you both want to beat each other retarded that's your business.

Carnage stood up and began another slow 10 count while at the announce table, John continued to drone on about how this match should have been over some time ago.

John: And perhaps now this mayhem will end as Carnage starts another 10 count.


Carnage raised his left hand and called out 3. Storm rolled his head over to see Emissary as Emissary did the same thing eyeballing Storm.............Carnage called out 4

Emissary: Not.......done........yet.

Storm: no.......way.

Carnage hit 5 and both men rolled to thier stomachs. As Carnage called out 6 both men go to thier hands and knees. As the call of 7 came out, They leaned into each other.......each using the other for support to get to thier feet. Carnage waved off the count as both men wobbled and then fell against the ring apron.

John: This goes beyond Human limits, How.....I mean how can they even get up?

Hank: Well I wouldn't exactly call it getting up, more like leaning on the apron.

John: Insanity. Storm is trying to crawl back in the ring with great Effort and Emissary is following his lead.

With great difficulty, Both men managed to get into the ring. Emissary tugged and pulled at the the ropes in a vain attempt to get to his feet, Storm had been closer to the corner, he rolled over twice and then managed to prop himself into a sitting position in the corner with the aid of the second rope. After much pulling and tugging Emissary used the ropes to stand up but the second he let go he began to backpedal and wound up falling into the opposite corner from Storm And there both men sat......not moving.....but just staring at each other.

Outside the ring, Carnage walked over to the side of the ring, bent down, Lifted up the ring apron, found a cooler, opened it, grabbed a couple bottles of cold water, and then climbed into the ring. He walked over to Emissary and handed him two bottles, then did the same for Storm.

Hank: Now here's something you don't see everyday, A referee getting the wrestlers cold drinks.

John: At least for the moment they're not fighting each other.....and that's a good thing.

The desire to fight....the heart.....the was all there for both men.....but the Human Body can take only so much punishment. It had it's limits....limits that had been passed some time ago. The willingness to fight raged....But like it or not, The bodies needed a few minutes to recoup. One might think the crowd would grow bored and restless but that was not the case, They understood the stakes, what these two gladiators had been through so far.....and with anticpation of another series of epic brutality around the corner, they were more then willing to wait and let the men have a long breather.

Emissary opened his first bottle and drank half of it as across from him Storm poured the entire first bottle over his head. Carnage stood in a neutral corner leaning on the ropes, Watching them both. Emissary emptied the other part of his water on his head, Opened the other one, drank a bit of that one, then poured the rest over his head. Storm got the top off his bottle, drank three quarters of it, and then dumped the remaining cold liquid over his face.

The water that poured off both men and pulled around them on the canvas looked like some sort of insane Kool Aid from all the blood washed away with it.

John: This match has come to a grinding halt as both men try to get what would have to be a 4th or 5th wind.

Hank: And look at the crowd, they're on the edge of thier seats just chomping at the bit to see them go at it again.

Back in the ring, The Legacy To Be and the Legacy That Is locked eyes on one another.......not one of them blinking.

Storm: Rested enough pussy?

Emissary: I'm good....but I'll give you another 5 minutes....You know....being older and whatnot.

Storm: No need to wait.

Emissary: Good.

Two sets of hands reached up and grabbed the top rope. As they pulled themselves up to thier feet, the crowd went ballistic.

John: Dear God in heaven they're back up again and I guess there's no stopping them. Round Three, here we come.

Hank: Forgetting all the whining you've done part of you deep down inside has to love the warrior heart both of them are showing the world right now.

John: Yes.....I suppose I do.

Carnage stood in the corner watching as Storm and Emissary walked (or something that closely resembled walking) towards the center of the ring. Wobbling as they went, for the moment they each seem more sure footed then they had minutes before. As they drew closer, Storm rocked Emissary with a left hand. Emissary then stepped back in and caught Storm with a left of his own. Storm tried for another right but as he leaned back, Emissary burst forward and clotheslined him to the mat.....his momentum carrying him forward onto the top rope.

He looked at the crowd with a smile on his face while behind him, On the mat, Storm pulled the bandages from his head that had now been shoved down around his eyes.



*Post By Eve Riley

"Eve" shakes her head to clear the cobwebs. Her match with Pandora had been pretty brutal, and the shot to the head she'd taken from Storm had reopened the gash in her head, sending fresh blood trickling down her face.

"Chance" dabs at it with a cloth Emma has given her while Emma fans her with Eve's silver hand mirror.

Finally she motions to them both that she's okay, and the two offer her a hand back to her feet. Emma starts back to the locker room, but "Eve" reaches out and takes her hand mirror, then pats Emma on the shoulder.

"Eve": You go on back, Emms, I'm gonna stay out here and cheer for Unka Jason.

Emma: I can stay too if you want.

"Eve": Nah, that's okay, babes. I know you don't want to be this close to all that icky stuff.

Emma: Okay, then. I'm not going to watch it if I don't have to.

"Eve": Good idea, babes. You can turn the monitor in the locker room off and just finish the packing.

Emma: That was my plan. You two be safe.

Emma hugs them both, then makes her way backstage to pack up The HOT Girls' equipment. Meanwhile, "Eve" and "Chance" hook their arms together and walk down the ramp toward the ring to the cheers of the crowd.

The family connection between Chance Chambers and Jason Emerson is well-publicized, and a buzz begins as the fans begin to speculate whether The HOT Girls are coming just to cheer for Storm, or to actively get involved in the match on his behalf.

Emo stands over his downed opponent, hands on the top rope smiling out at the crowd when his eye catches the girls moving down the ramp. The barest hint of concern passes over his blood-spattered face as his mind registers the information.

Eve Riley owes him for two separate attacks. First came during the cage match for the tag titles, when Emo had choked Eve out, slamming her head repeatedly against the ringside steps. Then second, an attack with a sledge hammer during the X-Factor match against Storm had nearly cost her the title.

And now? It was payback time. "Eve" and "Chance" walk slowly towards the ring, the teen beauty's eyes locked with Emissary's, promising him the payment he so richly deserves.

While her match had been brutal in its own right, it had been nothing compared to the chaos the main event had been so far. The Legacy To Be knows that Eve is much fresher, and if she attacks, there won't be much hope of fighting her off.

The Faux Girls reach the ring apron and just stop, still looking up into the eyes of the Uncrowned Prince as behind him, Storm tosses the bandage that had been covering his head wound out of the ring and slowly pulls himself back to his feet.

Paragon: The HOT Girls are here, Hank, and you have to wonder what their intentions are. We all know that the girls are solidly against cheating, but if anyone ever owed another human being a beating, these two OWE Emissary some punishment.

Proctner: The NOT Girls won't do anything, John. They've lost their edge. They will never be relevant in Federation X again.

Paragon: Are you serious? Eve is a six time world champion, Hank, and three of those titles were won while she was following the rules. Chance's list of accomplishments is as long as your arm, world titles in multiple federations, holding the X-Factor and Superstar titles simultaneously.

Proctner: Yeah, but that was then. NOW, they're both losing their edge. They'll be out of wrestling, running a finishing school for bubble heads within the next year.

Paragon: Ohhhhh! Storm really took advantage of Emissary's distraction with a big knee to the back!

Proctner: He's got Emo in a little trouble here, draped over that middle rope, John.

Emissary's arms and head hang over the middle rope, his body sagging down to the mat. Storm moves up behind him, leaning through the ropes and pressing his weight down on the back of The Legacy To Be, choking him against the ropes.

"Eve" sees her chance and lifts the heavy silver mirror, taking careful aim. The mirror whistles as it flies through the air, Eve using both arms to generate maximum impact.

Just as the mirror is about to make impact Emissary manages to go limp, sliding down to the mat. The mirror makes impact with Storm's forehead, sending blood flying halfway across the ring.

Storm flies back from the impact, lying flat on his back in the center of the ring. Emo slumps near the ropes, fighting to regain his breath after the beating his throat had taken against the rope.

"Eve's" eyes go wide as she looks down at the blood covering her mirror. "Chance" looks at her in shock, as if trying to figure out how the blow had managed to miss its intended target.

"Chance" wraps her arms around "Eve" and starts pulling her up the ramp.

Paragon: OH MY GOD! Eve Riley just accidentally clobbered Storm with that mirror!

Proctner: Accident my ass! The HOT Girls are BACK! WHOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Paragon: It was obviously an accident, Hank! That shot was aimed at Emissary!

Proctner: You just keep telling yourself that, John. Amp's girlfriend was about to hit Amp's tag partner and cost him a match.

Paragon: Eve was looking for revenge for the things Emissary has done to her this month in his quest to punish Storm and you know it!

Proctner: I don't know any such thing. All I know is that Eve just turned on Chance's uncle, and all is right with the world! I LOVE YOU EVE!

Stan Daniels
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Anarchy In The UK: Gauntlet Match Emissary vs Storm Part 1 Empty Anarchy In The UK: Gauntlet Match Emissary vs Storm Part 3

Post  Stan Daniels on Fri Jan 21, 2011 10:46 am


*Post By Johnny Rude

Emissary and Storm had beaten one another beyond recognition. How they were still standing was a mystery to many people. This was, quite possibly, one of the most brutal matches since Acid Ed vs. Johnny Rude. This match wasn't about titles. It wasn't about fame. It wasn't about anything remotely resembling success in the industry and the drive to achieve it. Oh no, it was about something more. It was about hatred. The seering loathing that two men could have one another. This was beyond heat. Beyond an angle. Beyond the industry.

In countless ways, it was a HELL of a lot like Acid Ed vs. Johnny Rude. There were differences, of course. For one thing, as intense as this had been, nothing in wrestling history could match Acid Ed's final match. That's what any wrestling purist would tell you. And, as we ALL know, every purist is right, ALL the time. "Chance" and "Eve" backed away from the ring after striking Storm with "Eve's" hand mirror. Jason was already the perfect vision of gore, this attack made it worse. And then, all of a sudden, something happened.

What was that, you ask? The lights drop. An explosion rocks through the arena. The fans errupt in approval. The sounds of something coming down from he ceiling can be heard. "The Fight Song," by Marilyn Manson begins to play. The entrance of Johnny Rude begins to play on the TV system. The lights came back on, and the fans could see pornography raining down from the sky. Clippings from porno mags, beastiality, dildos, vibrators, pocket vaginas, lubricants, the works. The ringside was now surrounded by what appeared to be a cage. On top of the cage was a man, dressed all in black. Sparks flew from above as he seemed to be cutting through the chainlink.

Emissary and Storm were very close to helpless inside the ring. Emo recovering from Storm's attack and being strangled on the ropes. Storm reeling from the mirror shot, and so much more. The ceiling of the cage falls to the ground. The man in black slides into the ring via a harness and cord. Once inside, he detches the cord from the harness. Emissary looks on warily. The man turns to him, waves, and turns to Storm. Storm is barely conscious after all the punishment he had endured. And so he could do little as the man in black handcuffed one arm to the ring ropes.

The mystery man drove a few shots into the stomach of Storm. Emissary pushed himself off of the ropes determined to attack the interloper. The man in black heard his thunderous footsteps. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a taser. Turning in one quick motion, he drives it into Emissary's chest. Instant Karma drops to the ground as his body flops. The man drags him to the opposite side of the ring and handcuffs him to the ropes. The man then stands in the center. He takes off the mask he wears and-

John: It's...IT'S JOHNNY RUDE!! BUT...BUT...HOW!?!?!

Hank: Maybe he contracted Storm's personal physician?

John: That's not even FUNNY!

Rude: Ladies and gentlemen....boys and girls...children of ALL is I, Your Antichrist Superstar...Your Superstar Champion....Johnny...B....FUCKING...RUUUUUUDE!

Now, the last anyone saw of me, I was on death's door. And, well, I'm still not in true fighting form. But that's okay. I don't need to be. Not yet, anyway. But, I just COULDN'T stand by and watch as Emissary BUTCHERS my work!

I mean really, people....did ANY of you MORONS think that Emissary thought of all this by himself? Did you REALLY believe the idea of digging up Karissa's sons remains was something he could think of, all on his own. Oh, wait, Storm didn't know about that, did he? Well, when he wakes up and watches the tape...he will.

Emissary, you owe me your time in the spotlight, you useless FUCK!

And Storm....ahhh...Storm.....we have SO much history together.

Rude stalked over to the last remaining Emerson. He slapped him a few times to wake him. As soon as Storm saw him, he tried to reach after him. Johnny took a step back, amused at Emerson's efforts.


Rude: SOMEONE already tried that. But you see....I'm the brother of The Shepard...I am the TRUE Damnation of Man. Nothing will keep me down for long. Especially no two-bit flunkies of YOU...Jason Storm. Assuming, of course, it WAS you. But, I really don't NEED an excuse to kick your ass around.

But I'm not going for that, there will be PLENTY of time to kick your monkey ass up and down this arena when I officially, I'll just go for humiliation.

Rude unzipped his fly. The crowd boo'd him almost on reflex. The announcers cried out as a golden stream came from Rude's pants and cake the face and chest of Storm. Almost as if roused by smelling salts, The Emerson did everything he could to grab a hold of his hated rival. He was close, too, but not close enough. Once Rude was finished, he zipped up and walked back to the center of the ring.

Rude: And now, we'll return you to your regularly scheduled Rude programming...

Johnny drops a saw in the middle of the ring. It is sharp enough to cut through the handcuffs, if either Storm or Emissary reach it. Johnny re-attaches the cord and zips out of the hole he made in the cage and into the catwalk above. His work here was done.


Meanwhile, Carnage, who had been named referee for this match for the express purpose of keeping some semblance of order, apparently took his thumb out of his ass for the first time. But there was no reason for him not to retroactively do something (rather than, say, kicking the shit out of a jealous interloper), to make sure this match could continue.

The Devastator went to work first on Emissary, who was showing less signs of fight at this point. If he'd freed Storm first, the Real Deal probably would have just gone about killing the hell out of the Legacy to Be, given his current mindset and feelings for Emissary.

And once the handcuff was removed from Emissary's wrist, still hanging from the bottom rope, Carnage crossed the ring and knelt beside Storm, another bottle of water in his hand. As he poured it over Storm's head, he said, "Just cool it. Take a breath. Let me get this off of you."

Storm tore his eyes away from the downed Emissary, forced them onto Carnage, and he softened just a little, gave a nod. He watched as Carnage set to work cutting through his handcuffs.

And that was when Emissary struck. He'd been watching Storm out the corner of his eye, and now that the Real Deal looked more interested in what was going on in his own little bubble, Emissary rolled onto his side, pulled himself up to a sitting position on the ropes. The fans in attendance started a murmur of excitement at the movement, but Storm heard none of it. He saw only the saw at work, while his pulse thundered in his ears.

To Emissary, the sound was something more to be felt than heard. Their excitement rushed over him in a wave, and fueled him as he pulled himself up to his knees. Then, agonizingly, to his feet. Once there, there was a moment that he just breathed. It was all he could do.

But when he craned his head, looked over his shoulder, eyes settled on Storm... That was all he needed. He fell away from the ropes, stumbled around to face him, and then let inertia do the rest.

Paragon: Look out!

But it was no use, poor Mr. Paragon. Instead, Emissary punted Storm right up under the jaw, sending him sprawling against the ropes. Carnage fell out of the way, but quickly rolled to his feet, and got between Emissary and Storm.

The Legacy to Be seemed not to see him, though, and absently tried to shove Carnage out of the way to continue the onslaught on a helpless Storm. But, the referee was not to be denied, shoving Emissary back.

At the push, the Legacy to Be stopped, his face bunched up in confusion as his mind tried to work through the recent events. Why was he not beating Storm's face in -right- now?

And so, still confused, he looked up at Carnage, who was shouting something at him. They were words. They might have been english, but to the Legacy to Be, they were thick, as if spoken underwater. But soon enough the pieces came together for him that it was Carnage that was putting a stop to the vengeance proceedings.

"Are you...?" Emissary started to say, but trailed off as he finally began to understand Carnage's words.

"... and just stand the hell back while I get this thing going again!"

"What?" the Uncrowned Prince managed. He cocked his head to the side, glaring emptily at his former mentor. "What did you say to me?"

"I said get back!"

"Maybe you forgot why you're out here," Emissary droned. "You're here to make sure nobody gets involved, which you've done a bang up job at -that- already... and to make sure -I- win! Now get the hell out of my way!" Finished making his point, Emissary stormed forward again.

But once more, Carnage caught him, this time outright throwing him across the ring. Battered and weary already, his knee throbbing, a lancing pain still shooting up his calf, Emissary stumbled and fell against the ropes. As Carnage turned his back on Emo again, going back to work freeing Storm, the Uncrowned Prince stared back in disbelief, righteous indignation.

Hank: I can't believe Carnage is getting in the way of this match. Let these guys fight, dammit!

Paragon: That's exactly what he's doing, partner! But he's going to make sure it's a fair fight!

Hank: Fair fights are so overrated...

His mind certainly not functioning properly after the beating he'd taken, Emissary pushed himself away from the ropes, and began crawling back toward the pair of Carnage and Storm, a crazed look in his eyes.

Paragon: Oh my... Emissary's drifted off into his special place here...

Hank: And it looks to me like his eyes are set on Carnage here...

Close behind the Devastator now, Emissary pushed himself up, one foot planted, as well as the other knee, beckoning with his hands for Carnage to turn around.

And just as he released Storm from his handcuffs, the future Hall of Famer did just that. But, as Emissary caught him around the neck and took to the air to deliver a Mandate, Carnage used his superior strength to just push the younger man away, crashing down hard on his back in the middle of the ring.

Carnage just shook his head down at his former protege, wondering just how the kid could have wound up so out of it after all the work he'd done with him. He slipped out of the ring with the saw Rude had left behind and handed it over the announce table to John Paragon, who slipped it under the table. Back in the ring, he said down to Emissary, "Get your head out of your ass, and fight this match."

Emissary was already in the process of fighting back to his feet, his eyes still on Carnage, the old timer that didn't understand what Emissary was trying to do for -his- benefit, and would rather turn his back on the kid. And for what? Some sense of integrity? Please...

But, before he could make another attempt on Carnage, Storm exploded out of the corner, delivering a retribution punt to Emissary, both men tumbling to the mat.

And now that the match looked to be getting back to what it had been, the crowd started to get more interested again.

Storm, the one to deliver the punishment, lifted his head, leaving a trail of blood droplets on the mat as he did, and there, waiting for him in the corner, seeming almost to call his name, was American Express.



The little "Shower" from Rude aside, Storm found perhaps his 6th wind of the evening. Although some might consider it "embrassing" That Rude pissed all over him, it only proved to alot of people something Storm already thought about Rude.....that he was all about the shock value and perhaps, as his antics didn't float as well in Federation X, this is the reason he split time with that other company, the one with the ever shallowing talent pool.

Rude's failed attempt to steal the spotlight already forgotten by the fans, Storm crawled towards the corner almost like his prized possession was calling to him. As Storm's left hand touched "His baby", Emissary rolled over to his stomach and pushed up shaking his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. All he achieved was staining the canvas with droplets of his own blood.

Storm pulled his Sledgehammer out of the corner and used it as a brace to stand up. he leaned in the corner staring at it like a long lost lover. This wasn't about winning or losing was about who could do the most damage.....Not who needed a weapon to get over. As Emissary got to his knees, Storm placed a loving kiss to the hilt of the Sledgehammer and then got ready.

John: Storm has American Express and as hard as it is to believe....this match just got 5 times worse!

Hank: Emissary doesn't have a clue, he's trying to get to his feet and Storm is ready to chop him down.

Storm blew through the random hair in his eyes sending out a spray of sweat and blood that was dripping down his face and past his lips. His grin twisted into a mixture of pleasure and pain. His target stood, shook it's head, and then staggered a bit to and fro. the target stumbled around and Storm came out swinging for the gut.

John: Call it a sixth sense of blind luck but somehow Emissary avoided what was sure to be a chest caving blow with that Sledgehammer.

The momentum of the swing carried Storm into the ropes. he fell against them using them for support and then turned back around. Emissary was on one knee trying to stay upright and ready for the next assault.

Storm grinned, Charged, and again, through skill, Luck or the fact that both men weren't exactly at thier best, Storm missed. Emissary hit the mat and rolled to the corner.....the same corner he'd left the case holding his "Fist of Karma". He reached for it unaware that Storm was already moving up behind him.

John: Emissary has that case intent on doing damage of his own but he has no idea what's waiting behind him.

Hank: Wouldn't it be awesome if they managed to knock each other out again?

John: NO!

Storm waited, fresh blood seeping from the wound Eve gave him with the mirror getting close to blinding one of his eyes. As Emissary turned, Storm caught him in the midsection with the hammer. The Legacy To Be dropped the case as he doubled over. Storm reached out and grabbed the short hairs on his rival's head pulling his head back.....and then whispered in his ear.

Storm: Now this.....this is what you've been asking for.

John: Oh Lord no....He can;'t.....he won't....He couldn't.....

Hank: HE DID!!! He just placed the head of that sledgehammer into Emissary's throat and then brought him forward!!

Newton's Law: An object at rest tends to stay at rest, and an object in motion tends to stay in motion–unless an external force is applied. In this case, Emissary was the object in motion, The ring was the object at rest, and The hammer, more specifically, the handle was the external force as the end of it planted in the mat jamming Emissary's throat right across the barbed wire wrapped head.

John: His throat has to be crushed!

Hank: That was DEVASTATING!

John: Emissary is rolling around the mat clutching at his throat!

Storm grinned unaware that at the last second, Emissary got a hand in that managed to partially block the blow. His palm was cut to shit for it and his throat was still throbbing in pain but the damage wasn't near as bad as he was selling it. Storm bought the show hook line and sinker. He staggered over, bent down to pick up his sledgehammer with the intent of ending this once and for all.

As he bent over, Emissary rolled over and slammed the case he had dropped moments before into the side of Storm's head.

Hank: He must have partial blocked the blow somehow cause he just flat out sucker punched Storm!

John: These two just will NOT QUIT!

Storm lay on the mat trying to shake the echoing hollowed thunk of the case out of his head. Emissary with one hand still on his bruised throat and on one knee, reached down with his free hand and started unlatching the was time for the Karmic Fist to come out and play.......After all, Why should American Express have all the fun?


Blood from his shredded hand ran down Emissary's throat, as he rubbed at the growing tightness there. But, when he removed the Fist of Karma from its case, he forced himself to take that bleeding hand away, used it to steady his gauntlet as he slid his hand inside.

On unsteady legs, he stood, held his newly gauntleted hand up before his face, for his benefit and for the people all through the arena, flexed his hand.

Hank: Looks like it's payback time!

Paragon: How either one of these men is still dishing out any offense is beyond me.

The look in Emissary's eyes said he didn't intend to let this go on much longer. At least not for Storm. One well-placed blow, and the lights were going to go out for the Real Deal. And then... only then would he enjoy this match, as he did whatever he saw fit. And that definition stretched a long, long way at this point.

When he turned to Storm, the Real Deal was already back up to his hands and knees. Blood came in a steady stream off his forehead, staining the mat. And still, he was fighting to get back to his feet.

So, Emissary let him do just that. The Legacy to Be, back on his feet, stalked in behind Storm, Fist cocked back, as he beckoned Storm up with his bleeding hand. Teeth clenched, his lips spread back to bear them. The blood from his nose, from his forehead, ran down past his lips and stained his teeth.

Paragon: Picture of a madman right there. An almost perverse glee in his eyes at the idea of what he's about to do here.

Hank: He's about to lock this one up, John! One of the best matches we've ever seen here, and Emissary is about to get the win! Of course he's happy!

Paragon: I think winning is the furthest thing from his mind here...

Storm took hold of the middle ropes on either side of the turnbuckle to get up to his knees. Then reached up to the top rope and slowly made it to his feet. The crowd held its breath as he came up, waiting for the blow that was sure to come, anxious at the idea of what sort of damage it would do.

And, as everyone in the arena knew he must, Storm stumbled back, away from the corner, and turned around. Just as Emissary had advertised he would, he flew at Storm with a wild haymaker right, his only intent to take Storm's head right off his shoulders.

But the Real Deal had had more than enough time to think it over as he fought to his feet. The gears might not have been turning at full speed at this point in the battle, but they were still turning.

As Emissary swung, Storm ducked under it, quickly shuffled his feet to stop his momentum, and set...

The force of the blow he threw connecting with nothing, spun Emissary around wildly. He hit the ropes and came of with more speed than his otherwise dead legs would otherwise have allowed...

Then it was impact. A moment of silence from the crowd let it echo through the arena before thousands of hands shot into the air as the crowd erupted in an epic cheer.

Paragon: Lightning Strike! Storm just hit the Lightning Strike, and that might do it!

But the Real Deal collapsed to the mat, utterly spent. Emissary lay on his back, eyes cast straight up to the rafters, his eyes devoid of all thought. Please leave a message after the beep.

Hank: He can't make the cover! He's got nothing left!

Paragon: Oh, man... All he's got to do is get an arm over his opponent, and this one is finished. Instead, Carnage is counting out both men. What a terrible way for this one to end, with no winner...

Carnage, with his usual slow count that he'd learned from the pros, reached four.

The fans kept up their cheers, refusing to count along with Carnage, refusing to support the idea of a draw. After all the weeks of bad blood, all the mind games, there had to be a winner. One way or the other.

And at nine, as Storm pushed himself up onto one elbow, looked around the ring, they reached another level of excitement. Carnage, as he'd done all match, waved off his count to let this one come to its own conclusion.

Unable even to get up to his hands and knees, Storm dragged himself across the mat, leaving a grotesque trail of blood as he came. He reached for the Legacy to Be, but it was still too far. His face twisted by the pain, the unrelenting agony that coursed through his body, still he came. As he'd always done, Storm managed to harness that pain, turn it into a perverse sort of desire, and used that to keep on coming. Against all odds, against all reasonable belief, he pushed himself the last foot, and lunged one hand over Emissary's chest as he collapsed once more.

Carnage didn't waste a second. He fell to his knees, one hand planted firmly on the mat, and raised his right high into the air. The impact of it on the mat was drowned out by the sellout crowd. "One!" Up again, cutting through the air to stand poised like a conqueror's flag. And down. "Two!" Up once more, the last time, the calm before the storm to come. "Th...


Paragon: I don't believe it! Carnage is back up, pointing to Emissary's foot. Somehow, someway, the Legacy to Be managed to get his foot on the bottom rope! He can't even know he did it!

Hank: But most importantly, John... this match continues!

Paragon: Unreal!



Storm rolled over on his back looking up at the lights. How Emissary had found the rope with his foot amazing in and of itself. Storm pushed himself up on an elbow rolling over to one knee. He managed to get back up and used a free hand to toss his now bloody hair back over his head. Looking down at Emissary he spied the gauntlet Emissary had on his hand and decided he didn't really want to get punched with it. That's when he fell to his knees and went about the business of removing it from Emissary's hand.

John: Storm has that contraption free from Emissary's hand.

Hank: And now he's trying to put it on his own hand!

Now that would have been karma, for Storm to use The Legacy To Be's owm weapon against him.....However, The gloves was a special fit and would not fit on Storm's hand. Having toyed with it enough, he cast it aside. The thing skidded across the ring, tettered on the ring apron, then fell to the floor.

Turning his attention back to his foe, Storm reached down and grabbed Emissary by the neck. He began the slow work of dragging Emissary back into the middle of the ring.

John: and you can just feel it in the air....Storm has something huge planned here and he wants Emissary dead center so no foot can reach the rope.

Hank: He's got the momentum and I think he's going to end it right here.

Storm pulled, huffing and puffing as he went till finally, Emissary was laying dead center in the ring. Storm got up, Staggered over to American Express, Almost fell trying to pick it up, and then used the ropes to guide himself to the corner. Then he put one foot up on the second rope.

John: You gotta be kidding me....after all of this Storm is going up to the top rope??? is he out of his mind?

Hank: Look at it this way John, Here we got two men driven by heart and desire....this is true combat from two true warriors, it just doesn't get any better then this.

John: That I Can't deny. This one is going down in history....assuming Storm doesn't die perched up there with that Slegehammer.

The Intent? Come down from on high and drop the head of American Express right across the chest of the thorn in his families side. With that Intent, Storm leapt into the air coming down looking akin to a Samuari Warrior ready to deliver a death blow....and what a blow it would have been....if Storm hadn't taken so much time. As Storm leapt, Emissary harnessed a burst.....and got to his feet.....looking like a hungry shark waiting for it's prey to swim right into that mouth full of teeth.

John: Storm jumps and Emissary is up waiting........MANDATE!! MANDATE OUT OF NOWHERE!!


With almost uncanny perfect timing, Emissary jumped up just in time to wrap his arms around Storm's head. American Express popped out of his grip and went flying towards a corner as The Legacy To Be slammed Storm face first into the mat.....and the crowd was in a frenzy.

John: That was......I mean.....Jesus...I'm speechless.

Hank: Me too but it appears Emissary is having the same problem that Storm he's spent and not going for the cover.

it was True, Emissary was about spent but unlike Storm, Emissary wasn't that far away.....So as Carnage hit 5 and the crowd screamed for them to both get up, Emissary flung an arm over Storm's chest......and unlike Emissary....there was no rope to Save Storm.

John: And this is it.....1......2.......3...NO! THIS IS INSANE!!

Hank: HE GOT HIS SHOULDER UP!! Somehow someway, Storm got his shoulder up and this thing just keeps on going!!

Both men lay on the mat now faces to the lights....both wondering what they'd have to do to the other to actually end this thing.



What did it take? What would overcome the power of pure, unmitigated hatred, to keep either of these men down? Neither man could stand the idea of losing to the other. There was no way around that.

Emissary rolled off Storm, all the way back around to his stomach, and pounded the mat in disbelief. But this match was his. Storm was down, and he had to be on the verge. -Had- to be. He had but to press his advantage, and this match was his.

His eyes settled on American Express, but no. Emissary knew it had been Storm's downfall, and if nothing else, the Legacy to Be knew how to adapt to a situation. Instead, he knelt and pulled Storm up to his knees. Rather than pull him the rest of the way up, Emissary hooked an arm around Storm's head, and dropped him back to the mat with a makeshift DDT.

The Uncrowned Prince took two breaths, then forced Storm onto his back, and laid across him again.

Paragon: That's gotta be it.

But the crowd knew better. At two and three quarters, Storm's shoulder once more shot off the mat. Even still the fans let out another cheer at the great effort.

Emissary rolled to his hands and knees, now pouning the mat with his bleeding hand three times, as if only to show himself what it would sound like, leaving three separate red handprints. He followed them up with another deathglare to Carnage. But the legendary referee only shrugged and held up two fingers.

One word thundered through Emissary's mind. It was not "blood". It was not "pain". It was not "vengeance".

Composure. With the situation what it was, all he had to do was keep his composure, and this match was his. No mistakes, no regrets, no turning back. Victory at all costs. No matter what John Paragon said, victory meant something here. How could his message really take hold without a win?

No. Victory was everything now. The blood had been spilled, the agony inflicted. After all this... the only step left was victory.

Emissary forced himself to his feet. Shoulders hunched, hobbled on one leg, blood pouring from his face and hand, a blood-stained bandage coming apart on his calf, Emissary stalked around Storm.

Paragon: Emissary looking for his next big move here. Looking for that home run that will finally put this one away.

Spot on call from John Paragon as Emissary bent, lifted Storm's legs off the mat. Looking down at the Real Deal, shaking his head at the man he'd vowed to destroy, Emissary stepped through, crossing Storm's legs around his. Storm tried to resist the turn he knew was coming, but with both men weakened the way they were, Emissary's superior leverage made it impossible for Storm to fight it from there, and Storm was forced onto his stomach as the Legacy to Be sat back, cinching in the sharpshooter.

Hank: This is it! He's going to make Storm quit, just like he said!

Paragon: He's got it locked in tight. This is a move we've seen from Emissary in the past. He knows how to apply it, he knows how to keep it on. Storm is in the middle of the ring, no ropes in sight. This is Emissary's best chance. There's nowhere for Storm to go here! He can't have the strength to travel the length of the ring to the ropes.

Hank: Put it in the books, John. -Your- winner is Emissary.

Paragon: Well, Storm hasn't tapped out yet.

But he -was- screaming at the pain that shot through his already battered back, one hand reaching futilely toward the ropes that were so far away. Carnage dropped to his knees in front of the Real Deal, hands poised to call for the bell, asking Storm for the word.

But Storm shook his head, spraying blood with each shake. "Nooo!"

The fans were still on their feet, cheering. Whether it was to will Storm through the pain, or in appreciation for what the two men had already done, with the match seemingly done, it wasn't clear.

"Say it!" Emissary shouted over his shoulder. "SAY IT!"

"Let it go, Storm," Carnage said quietly, just between the two. "Nobody's going to think any less of you."


And at the words from Carnage, the suggestion that he couldn't beat Emissary now, that it was all but over, rage boiled through him. And with it, he managed to push his body up off the mat, relieving some of the pressure Emissary put on him. One hand firmly planted, he reached back with the other and caught Emissary's ankle.

The Uncrowned Prince's balance was thrown off as soon as Storm had forced himself up. The hooked ankle was all it took to send him tumbling forward where he had to catch himself on the rope, but managed to get hung up enough to drive the air out of his lungs again, and delay his recovery. So, while he held himself there on the second rope, on his knees, Storm crawled to the opposite side of the ring, and pulled himself up on the ropes.

Simultaneously, both men came to their feet, and turned to face each other.

They delayed, each looking the other dead in the eyes, past the mangled bodies, past the bloodied faces, into the raging centers beneath.

Paragon: And somehow! Someway! Both of these men are on their feet! And you have to believe, this one is coming up on the end! What more can these two men possibly give us?

Hank: They can give us one hell of a finish, John!



John: All thier strength, All thier power, All thier heart and desire.......Everything they got....that's what Storm and Emissary have given us tonight and with that, each man can claim another piece to thier legacies.

Hank: Love them, Hate them, Loathe them, You can't deny that this one will go down in wrestling History.

Not one ass was in a seat, backstage staff and wrestlers alike crowded around monitors, Not a single person in the arena was doing anything save for watching this match, Perhaps the most brutal match in Federation X history.

Storm stared across at Emissary......Emissary stared at Storm....Both bodies a bloody mess almost from head to toe......and in that moment each man could feel it, Everyone in the arena and at home could feel it....This one was almost over. It wouldn't be much longer now......and perhaps that's what Drove the crowd into another frenzy, the loudest of the night....or maybe it was the sight of these two warriors, Motioning for the other to "Bring it."


Hank: Both men charge!!

John: Storm goes for the clothesline but Emissary ducks under it! Storm stops and turns, Goes for another clothesline but Emissary ducks it again. Storm whips around....Emissary launches for a drokick and conn...NO! Storm grabbed his legs in midair and Emissary slams down hard on his back.

With all the air driven out of him, Emissary still found a way to beg off Storm as the shoe was on the other foot. Storm held Emissary's legs and then stepped in between them. Unlike Emissary, it took more force for Storm to roll him over but when he did, he locked in the Storm Surge (The Haus Of Pain).....With his shin across Emissary's neck pinning his head to the mat.

Hank: And could this finally be it? Storm has his own submission locked in and that Storm Surge is one tough move to break out of.

John: Carnage is asking Emissary if he gives but Emissary is screaming No at the tiop of his lungs!

Carnage asked again and again Emissary shouted no. Storm did all he could to break his foe in half but he knew well enough that it was only a matter of time before Emissary broke the hold. It was a simple matter of Length. Although nnot that much taller then Storm, Emissary had a long frame, most of it being his legs. In his weakened condition, there was no way Storm could maintain the hold. The second Emissary planted his bloody hand on the mat and pushed up, Storm started to tetter and fall. Rather then fall headlong into the ropes or possibly spill out onto the floor, Storm released the hold and fell to the mat.

John: Emissary is free and this one just keep on going......They won't be able to walk out of here when this is done.

Hank: And now they're both crawling to the ropes!

Both men made the ropes at the exact same time, In tandem they made thier way up to thier feet and leaned with thier backs for support.

Emissary's grinned through the blood on his face.

Storm returned the grin through his bloody face and hair.

And then for one final time....they both motioned for each other to "Bring it".....except this time....they both looked like savage animals ready to rip each other to shreds.

Storm: TO THE END!!

Emissary: TO THE END!!

And with that the two men found the strength, the will, and the drive to charge headlong at each other.

This would be the final minutes......

For the Legacy To Be......and The Legacy That Is.


*The Finale As Posted By Emissary, With Rights Turned Over To Him By Storm

(Taking care of this at Storm's request.)

Both men threw themselves at each other, and in spite of their battered bodies, adrenaline took charge and allowed them both to throw hard right hands in tandem, each connecting again and again with his opponent.

Until finally Storm won through, and Emissary was staggered. The years of taking so many epic beatings gave Storm the extra fortitude to last through the punishment, where the younger Emissary faltered.

Paragon: Emissary reeling! And Storm delivers another hard right! The Uncrowned Prince is out on his feet!

Hank: But he's still -on- his feet!

Storm wound up and put everything he had into the last punch, sending Emissary staggering wildly into the ropes. The Real Deal fell to a knee from the force he put into the blow, and Emissary lay against the ropes, his eyes empty, telling the story of just how gone he was.

Somehow, Storm pushed himself to his feet once more, for the last time. And he knew it would be the last. He stumbled to Emissary, fell against him to draw the ropes back, and let the recoil launch him upright again as he whipped Emissary to the opposite side. The Legacy to Be came back off the ropes, and Storm planted a reverse elbow up under the younger man's chin, sending him to the mat in a heap. The impact staggered Storm, as well, but he kept his feet.

Paragon: Emissary down once more, and look at his chest, partner. It's everything he can do just to get some air in those lungs!

Storm, mouth hung slack, looked down at his opponent for a long moment. Then, much to the delight of the fans, he craned his head, looked over his shoulder at American Express lying in the corner. A strange little grin spread at one corner of his mouth. There was no malice in it, but too there was no great humor. His mind had gone far beyond the realm where either of those emotions would be found. It was just a grin that came because his mind knew it should be there.

On legs that begged for mercy, threatened to give out with each step, Storm stumbled to the corner, stopped there, holding himself up on the ropes, and just looked down at his old friend that had been with him through the greatest trials. And now, here in this moment that transcended the weeks that had brought him here, his friend was with him again.

In the middle of the ring, Emissary managed to roll onto one side, forced his elbow down onto the mat, and managed to prop himself up halfway.

Having said his silent greeting to the hammer that was so much more than a hammer to him then, Storm bent, wrapped both hands around the wood hilt, and stood. The barbed wire wrapped head even with his face, Storm held American Express in what could have been an embrace, marveling at it as he never had before.

And outside the ring, the faux Eve Riley retrieved the Fist of Karma from the floor. While the cameras were on Storm, delivering the shot everyone wanted to see of the living legend, face covered in a bloody mask, and his legendary weapon, "Eve" slid the custom steel gauntlet across the mat, placing it perfectly against the Uncrowned Prince's stomach.

Out of it as he was, Emissary had no idea how his newfound prize came to be cradled against his body the way it was. But the simple sight of its ridged knuckles, and the emblazoned "FoK", told him it was his, and must therefore be worn. As Storm backpedaled out of the corner with American Express, Emissary slipped the Fist of Karma around his right hand and cradled it against his stomach, hiding it from Storm's view.

The Real Deal turned, saw his opponent in the first stages of getting up off the mat, and he nodded. Yes. Let him up. Let him think this match was still going on, when already it was won. When already the Uncrowned Prince's fate had been decided. He spread his hands out over the long handle, one tucked just under the head, the other all the way down at the other end. As he watched, Storm dropped low, legs braced to launch himself forward and deliver the blow that would end this match.

And Emissary tucked a knee under himself, managed to get at least that much, and wavered. Blood ran down his chest, off his free hand, stained his ring attire, his hastily applied bandages, the mat below him. And still he was able to turn one leg, put his boot on the mat, and raised himself up.

On his feet, his back to Storm, Emissary stumbled back... and began the slow turn.

Storm, unable even to register the excitement of what was happening did the only thing he could, the only thing all the years, all the miles, all the blood and tears told him he must do. His legs locked under him, and forced himself forward, toward the man that was not so much a man then, but a wavering target. He raised American Express with both hands, even with his head, and took the first steps toward destiny.

And as Emissary came around, his fist clenched, the muscles in his arm knotted, cocked back ever so slightly. Without thought, without even the capability for thought, acting only on instinct that had been bored into his mind in his upbringing among legends, Emissary turned, and blindly launched a Karmic-clad uppercut.

Storm took the final pained steps either man would take, and thrust the barbed wire wrapped head of his beloved sledgehammer at Emissary's head.

The earth-shattering, mind-altering impact put an end to the night. The crowd, along with its frenzied cheer, was unheard. John Paragon's excited call at the announce table, likewise did not exist.

It would be replayed over and over on Federation X TV and all over the internet, slower and slower each time it was shown.

As Emissary turned, his Fist of Karma irrevocably on its course, his eyes widened at the sight of the sledgehammer Strom intended for him, what he'd never even considered. Likewise, as Storm realized the trap Emissary had laid, his eyes opened just that much wider.

But there was no stopping it. Both men had committed to their respective sins, and there was no taking them back.

The Legacy to Be took the full brunt of the sledgehammer thrust between his eyes, just as the Real Deal caught those brutal steel ridges under the jaw. Time seemed to freeze as both men's bodies went limp, but somehow managed to stay on their feet just a moment longer. They fell into each other before each man collapsed on his back. American Express laid across Storm's shins.

Both men fell with a hand across the other, and Carnage fell to his knees. While neither man knew what was happening, the crowd shouted out along with Carnage's first count.


But blood and sweat intermingled on both men, making their flesh slick. And their arms, so heavy now that neither could hold them up, made it so easy for a hand to slide away...


But steel was heavy, treaded fingers found purchase. And while Storm's hand slid down Emissary's blood-soaked chest, back down to the mat, Emissary's open-handed Fist of Karma remained.


A bell rang out three times as the fans let out the most explosive cheer of the night, that this war between two men had finally ended. That this battle that somehow transcended the bounds of the human body had come to its merciless conclusion.

"Insanity Pulse" thrummed through the arena as the ring announcer made the call. Carnage knelt over both men, trying to get some sign of life out of either. Without delay, without any signal from the referee, paramedics charged down the entrance ramp with two stretchers. The ring filled with medical staff, and two newly brought backboards, the music faded, the crowd with it. The building was deathly silent, the only sound orders barked between the EMTs.

But once Storm, the Real Deal, the man who would never say die, a man that had gone through more ordeals in his career than ten lifetimes dictated reasonable, and Emissary, the Legacy to Be, who had been groomed for superstardom by the best the business had to offer, were transferred to their respective stretchers, and started the slow trek up the ramp, neither showing any movement, the crowd gave them another ovation.

If nothing had been decided in this match, even if the ongoing struggle between them wasn't decided tonight, there was one thing that could not be denied; the performance the fans had witnessed would not have been possible without one thing between two sworn enemies...


... end...

Stan Daniels
Stan Daniels

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