Post by Ryan Beyer on Feb 22, 2006 18:39:30 GMT -5
Brawl for All: Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Location: Washington, D.C.
Main Event: Shawn Michaels vs. Triple H
Fans in Attendance: 1,500
Location: Washington, D.C.
Main Event: Shawn Michaels vs. Triple H
Fans in Attendance: 1,500
Joey Styles: “Welcome, everyone to Brawl for All! I’m Joey Styles, with Austin Owens, and we have quite the show for you!” Austin Owens: “Yes we do, Styles! HBK takes on Triple H, and this match is all about revenge.” Joey Styles: “Shawn Michaels wants back at Triple H for his disrespect, Triple H wants HBK for taking the title away from him.” Austin Owens: “No title on the line, this is all about pain. You hate pain, dontcha, you chicken.” Joey Styles: “At least I’m not fat!” Austin Owens: “At least I get laid, Styles!” Joey Styles: “So?! I’m saving myself till marriage! Anyway, we‘ve got an interview with Randy Orton, Ryan Beyer ready and waiting.” |
Segment: Interview with a semi-truck The camera cuts to the back, as most of America, as well as Heyman laughs at Joey Styles. Ryan Beyer stands with Randy Orton at his side. Orton rolls his shoulders as he is asked a few questions by Beyer. One question comes up, and Randy has to think long and hard about it. Ryan Beyer: “Randy, you and Batista have hated each other for quite some time. What do you think your chances of winning are at the inevitable fallout?” After a few seconds of thinking to himself, Randy looks straight at the co-owner. Randy Orton: “Ryan, come on, isn’t it obvious? My chances are certain. I’m going to beat -” Randy is interrupted by a heavy clothesline in the back. A large arm clubs him, knocking him down. Batista’s face comes into view. The Animal lifts Randy to his feet, and forces him into a stack of tables, knocking them all down. Batista throws Randy over his shoulder, and runs to an elevator. The door quickly shuts as Batista is heard breathing heavy. The camera shakes as the cameraman runs up the stairs, emerging onto the roof. The elevator springs up, and out come Batista and Randy, both throwing heavy punches. The two make their way onto the roof, where Batista blocks one of Randy’s swings, and grabs him by the throat. Randy Orton looks in fear, as Batista lifts him and throws him against a large metal vent. Orton lays lifeless, as Batista lifts the deadened man to his feet. Batista shoves Randy’s head between his legs, and screams, echoing through the city. Batista flips Orton onto his shoulders, and walks to the edge of the building. A truck is directly below them. Dave Batista drops Orton, and he falls lifelessly through the top of the semi-truck’s trailer. Batista screams, “Orton. . . You should never have touched my son,” as the camera fades to black, then a commercial. Commercial The Budweiser Magic Fridge commercial plays, and millions of drunks around the world have a new wish for Pinky the Elephant. |
VS.
Triple H vs. Shawn Michaels
A distorted power chord shakes the arena, as Motorhead’s “The Game” begins playing through the dark arena. Green lights flash along the stage, as Triple H slowly emerges from behind the curtain, a water bottle in one hand, the other holding his intercontinental championship on his shoulder. He walks down the ramp, taking a sip from the bottle every few steps. He tosses the bottle into the crowd after taking one final gulp. He stands on the apron, facing the crowd, and exhales the water out onto the crowd. He steps into the ring, pumped up.
Three drum beats echo through the arena as “Sexy Boy” hits, and Shawn Michaels comes walking out, pointing to the huge crowd of the pay-per-view. HBK struts down the ramp, and eventually drops to his knees, looking straight up. A lines of pyrotechnics explodes behind him, like a wave of bright, beautiful white and blue sea. Michaels springs up, and gives a few people some high-fives. He slides into the ring, and, extending one leg, he flexes in the classic pose. He spins around, taking off his chaps and his vest.
Triple H climbs into the ring, as the bell sounds. Both men stare at each other, pure hate running through their veins. Tonight is not about glory or reputation for either man. It’s about pure spiteful revenge. The crowd is silent so that a pin could drop in the highest balcony, and it would be heard. The air tastes of bitter tension. Shawn Michaels and Triple H are both imagining the brutal and destructive things they want to do to their opponent. The tense moment is broken by a sudden swing from Triple H. He connects, but Michaels just fires back, twice as hard and twice as fast.
Two punches, and the tension returns in the stillness. This time, HBK breaks it, hitting HHH with two right hands. The match is fully underway, and only one man will be walking out successful tonight. More right hands force Triple H backwards, but Michaels is soon blocked and tripped onto his back. The Game drops down a quick elbow, connecting, but both men still stand tall at the same time. Any other men would crack under this pressure, like laying at the bottom of the deepest ocean. The pressure runs through their feet, colliding with itself in their brains, exploding through their capillaries.
Triple H makes a hard clothesline attempt at Shawn, but HBK lifts himself high into the air, connecting with a dropkick to the back of Hunter’s head. As HHH falls forward, time seems to have sped up. Perhaps the stress that rings through the arena has created a rush of time. Triple H gets back up, and meets Shawn with a stiff right hand. HBK falls, but his ascension is quick, and the men are ready to face off again. Triple H jumps into the air, shoving his knee into the face of the oncoming Michaels. Michaels falls again, as the two prepare themselves for the long, hard road ahead of them.
Michaels gets up slower this time, but instead of going straight to the offensive, he waits for HHH to charge him, and flips him over his back. HHH falls hard, and as he gets back up, he is met by a running elbow from HBK. The tension is gone, and anger is abound in the arena, it’s distinct scent floating into every inch. Triple H gets up, and is able to duck Shawn Michaels’ clothesline. Triple H lifts Shawn onto his shoulders, in the crucifix position. Triple H falls backwards, putting all of his weight onto Shawn’s lungs.
Shawn gets up, slower this time, but Triple H is also showing some fatigue. This match could be a deciding factor in how long one of these men wrestles. The two lock up in the middle of the ring, the struggle to push the other won by HBK. Driving Triple H into the corner, Shawn Michaels begins kneeing him in the stomach, allowing ten to twenty second intervals between each blow. Triple H is heavily slowed down, and after the fourth knee, he collapses.
Michaels leans on the corner, resting and regaining his composure. Triple H gets up faster than HBK expected, and as Shawn turns around, he is met by a running clothesline. It is Shawn Michaels who falls this time, but Triple H takes no time to rest. As Michaels struggles up, Triple H kicks him in the side. Hunter lifts HBK off of the mat, and holds his head up, trash talking.
Suddenly, Triple H is hit in the back of the head with a chair. The camera pans out to find Vince McMahon holding a chair. Shawn Michaels looks on in shock, as Vince lifts Triple H and holds him. HBK tunes up the band, as Triple H is held up, almost lifeless in McMahon’s arms. Michaels kicks, nearly knocking HHH’s head off. HBK pins Triple H as Vince counts to the crowd, one. . . two . . . three.
Winner:[/b] Shawn Michaels
The crowd cheers in a frenzy, as Shawn Michaels celebrates, Vince watching him lift his belt to the crowd. Vince is handed a microphone, as Triple H gets up.
Vince McMahon: “You know, Hunter, I just wasn’t thinking clearly when I put you back into that match. You’re back out of it! And you’re replacement will be. . . Kane!”
Vince waves to the crowd, which gives him a great sendoff. Triple H is arguing, but Vince is ignoring him. The camera pans in on a smiling Vince McMahon, the last time the sight will be seen, fading to the NHBWO logo.
