Mad Scientist

Things are going to be a little heated over the holidays for me, but I could write something for just after Christmas. Maybe for December 31st?

Well, it is damn tough to write a match illustrating the weardown of two straight days of top-card matches without working in a little bit of face-ness. Heels aren't supposed to get hurt, darn it. We're supposed to get inexplicable and infuriating byes through the difficult parts while the face has to pound his way through a man-mountain and an evil Puro heel with his entourage. Just sayin'. I thought Tod wrote a better match overall. His match had Alexander being a lot more like his old dickish self. I particularly loved the little bit at the end where Tod had Michael try for the Silent Scream. Golden.

What he said. Prayers and blessings to you and your family.

Way to go, Tod! That was a damn fine match. Congrats!

Great so far. I'm liking the tourney idea. The staggered rounds adds a lot more suspense than I thought it would.

Hey! Happy Birthday to you as well. Sorry I'm late returning the wishes, but I was visiting family for the Thanksgiving Holiday, and I am always incommunicado during those visits.

Dude, take care of your family. Our fictionalization of fake professional wrestling will keep. Best wishes and prayers.

I'm in if I get the axe...

Yes, you could give Alexander a bye. See, problem solved.

Stables require a lot of prep and coordination. That goes against my basic tenets of laziness and slackery when it comes to the internetz.

This sounds cool. And I like the low limit for the first round, as I've got the new WWE video game this month to destroy my Xbox with. Once that's burned out, I'll have more time to write a bigger match for Round 2, presuming that Bruner doesn't squash me beyond recognition.

I'm in for the Classic. Also, a promo/squash show in November or December wouldn't be a bad idea.

I am absolutely terrified that this was posted in complete seriousness.

But now you're...but you were Quiet...and Taiga Star...and...*head explodes*

Yup. By the time you get to Jarrett, the difficulty has gotten ridiculous...but maybe they're trying to accurately reflect the improbability of getting a clean win over Double J in TNA, eh?

Don't worry, it gets better. If you keep at it, you'll eventually unlock the Cradle Shock...your character's default finisher!

Kind of strange...you can create your own in-game video and sound editing, but the game won't be able to use it as a video option for your Titantron? I love the idea of the Highlight Reel, but how hard would it have been to allow the option of integrating it into the Titantron videos? Cool, yet a little bit of a let-down.

I remember seeing the roster editor. You can only do it when you start career mode, though, if I am remembering it correctly. No changing general rosters once you've begun a wrestler's career path (but your wrestler can jump to go after new titles), at least that's how I understood it.

There is no count-out. And no referee. And you better learn to use a chair to win during the story mode.

Thank heaven for that, at least. No Tenay and no West, and I don't have to concern myself with how to write commentary that's so dense that even Mike Tenay has a hard time with it.

This photo of a promotional game box seems to indicate a "Highlight Reel" feature that will let you record your matches or moves and share them online. I'm not certain it's legit, but it sure as heck looks real to me. Now, if this allows us to use this footage to create our own TitanTron video, that would be all kinds of awesome... *continues wishful thinking* Anyway, here's the photo:

BTW, if someone else hasn't already called it...OPENING PROMO!!!!!!!!!!! (Note the multiple exclamation points for added emphasis, followed by the pathetically pedantic parenthetical for gratuitous grammatical gimmickry and excessive alliteration opportunities.)

That's exactly the effect I was going for. I consider that high praise.

I'll start the show with my meager offering. I tried to write a technical wizardry versus power and tenacity...unfortunately for me, Va'aiga did it a lot better. Here's my meager offering: MICHAEL ALEXANDER VS. VA'AIGA - SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP “Here we are, folks! The biggest show of the year and the biggest match of the show! SWF Genesis and the main event!” Mak Francis exults. “Damn right, Francis!” The Suicide King agrees without his usual begrudging whine. “Right here in Greenville, South Carolina, the hometown of the greatest technical wrestler in the ring today, Michael Alexander!” King's glee is a little unsettling. “And tonight, Michael is going to finally take back the SWF Title and the howling idiot Va'aiga is finally going to get what's coming to him! I've been waiting all night for this!” “I don't know about that, King,” Mak replies. “But I will say that fate seems to be leaning in Alexander's direction tonight...his return match for the title happening in his hometown at the biggest SWF show of the year, Genesis?” The crowd at the Bi-Lo Center has begun a low sussurus; they know what's coming as well. Referee Brock Samson steps into the ring and puts out his cigarette, grinding it out on the turnbuckle. He is followed by the SWF's announcer extraordinaire, Funyon. The big man raises the microphone as he relishes his biggest spotlight of the year. “Ladies and Gentlemen...the next match is the main event of SWF Genesis 2008!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “This match will be one fall for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “First, the challenger...he weighs in at 221 pounds...he hails from...GREENVILLE, SOUTH CAROLINA...!” The lights dim to flickering blue and white as Metallica echoes through the Bi-Lo Center. “Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oftenest in what least we dread, Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow....” A resounding bell heralds the beginning of “For Whom the Bell Tolls” by Metallica, and a video montage of Alexander’s previous in-ring exploits interwoven with a new branching double-helix fractal graphic. The montage has been updated to include bits that feature Toxxic, MANSON, and Insane Luchador. Blue and white strobes flicker in the arena, for this special occasion coalescing on the ramp as a projection of the South Carolina state flag, and as the guitar kicks in... Alexander steps out onto the stage, and the flicker lighting stops dead. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “He is the Mad Scientist of the Mat...MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALEXAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDER!” Michael takes some time to bask in the unusual adulation. He raises his hands and the crowd roars again in response. He begins his walk to the ring as the crowd starts their chant. “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “I never thought I'd see the day when Michael Alexander would get a face pop!” Mak mutters, amazed. “Well, you'd have to figure the people from his hometown would know quality, talent, and greatness when they see it.” King adds smugly. The Mad Scientist climbs into the ring and raises his hands to his hometown crowd in a rare show of salutation. Alexander's hand is raised to each side of the arena, followed as if on cue with a chorus of cheers. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “This is almost surreal, King.” Mak shrugs uncomfortably. “Well, at least his fellow South Carolinians know genius, talent, and greatness when they see it, Francis,” King instructs. “It's a shame the rest of the world lacks the perception of Alexander's home state.” Michael Alexander looks like he's calling for the microphone, but before he can... The arena lights dim sharply, the entranceway fills with smoke, and the spotlights home in on the entrance gate. The loud shouts of Pacifika Hip Hop star Savage ring out across the arena... “PITO SUTE AKILAGI! (IT'S THE REEEEMIIIIIX!) It ain't good, it ain't good 'cos you'll get jumped in my hood! PITO SUTE AKILAGI! (SAVAGE!) It ain't good, it ain't good 'cos you'll get jumped in my hood!” “Typical Maori,” grumbles King. “Interrupting his betters.” “I hope he interrupts Alexander a little more about the head and shoulders myself,” Mak replies. Va'aiga steps out into the entrance gate and walks through the smoke. He throws the BOO-YAH! Punch combination then throws back the hood of his entrance robe. Va'aiga begins his walk down the ramp, throwing a few phantom jabs. Alexander's face tightens and he waves away the microphone, devoting all his attention to the approaching champion. Funyon catches up quickly. “And the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, from New Zealand...weighing in at 350 pounds...he is the Maori Badass...VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVAAAAAAAI-INNNNNNNNNNG-GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Savage's thumping tones reverberate through the Bi-Lo Center. He points to Michael and makes a peremptory cutting motion across his throat. “How many dudes you know roll like this? How many dudes you know flow like this? Not many, if any. Not many, if any. How many dudes you know got the skills to go and rock a show like this? Uh uh, uh uh, I don't know anybody.” Va'aiga steps into the ring and throws his robe to a ring attendant before climbing up onto the turnbuckles and throwing the Shaka Signs, but he only gets more jeers as a result. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “This has got to be a new experience for Va'aiga,” Mak remarks. “Usually the Maori is the crowd favorite.” “Well, maybe this crowd actually wants a champion who can wrestle?” King inquires sarcastically. Va'aiga and Michael Alexander stare at each other, the Maori fuming and Alexander sporting his characteristic smirk. Referee Samson growls at both men, asking if they're ready. Va'aiga tosses his robe to the ring attendant and grunts. Alexander nods, dropping into a “sugarfoot” catch stance. Samson calls for the bell. DING! DING! The Maori bulls forward with a snarl, trying to close the distance and start pounding. Michael shoots low, dodging behind. He goes for a quick single leg pick-up, tripping the big man and sending him to the mat. Va'aiga catches himself, though, only falling to his knees. The Mad Scientist takes advantage of the situation with a quick stomp to the back of the Maori's leg, eliciting a growl from the big man and slowing Va'aiga's efforts to rise. Alexander kicks Va'aiga's right arm out from under him, causing the surprised Maori to drop to the mat. The Evil Genius uses the opening to snag his opponent's right arm in a Fujiwara arm bar. The crowd approves. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Ha! Already the big lug is being outclassed, Francis! Only a minute into the match and he's already on the mat!” “Like you said, King, it's only a minute into the match. I don't see the Maori Badass being in that position very long.” Va'aiga is not amused. With a bellow, the Maori Badass pushes himself up to his knees. Alexander tries to use the arm bar to force the big man back down, but Va'aiga will not be stopped. Rising to his feet, Va'aiga glares at Alexander, who still has his right arm barred. The Maori bulls his opponent into the ropes, and whips him off. Alexander rebounds, leaping up to strike the charging Maori with a flying forearm smash...which causes Va'aiga to stagger a little before he shrugs it off. “Well, it looks like Michael Alexander may have really gotten himself into trouble now, King! It's always a bad idea to go after the Maori's head...” “Well, Alexander should know to go after a VITAL area, Francis, and we all know Va'aiga's head is the least vital part of his body.” He reaches for Alexander, grinning viciously. Michael, realizing this could pose a problem, ducks behind the lumbering Maori, grabbing Va'aiga's wrist and using it to twist his opponent's arm into a hammerlock. Va'aiga starts to consider firing an elbow, but realizes that Alexander's positioning is such that he can't reach him without dislocating one or both of his shoulders. Before the big man can reevaluate, however, the Mad Scientist begins snapping off a series of vicious kicks into the back of the Maori's right leg. Va'aiga stumbles slightly, favoring his now-stinging right leg...then suddenly plows backwards, smashing a surprised Michael Alexander into a nearby turnbuckle! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “And the Maori schools Michael Alexander again. Getting into close proximity of Va'aiga is generally a recipe for serious injuries, King.” “Whatever, Francis. Va'aiga luckily tripped himself and fell onto Michael; we both know that's the only way he can deal with actual wrestling.” The impact understandably loosens the Evil Genius' grip, allowing the exceedingly grumpy Maori to get free and let loose with a series of crushing back elbows to Alexander's jaw. Va'aiga still seems to be favoring that right arm a little, but the only way you'd notice is that he seems to be using his left elbow for the aforementioned pounding. Va'aiga grabs the arm of his stunned opponent and Irish whips him into the opposite turnbuckle, with sufficient impact to cause the smaller man to bounce out of the corner like a billiard ball, flopping to the mat. The big man gets back into his groove by throwing up his trademark shaka sign and bellowing, “BOO-YAH!” The Greenville crowd doesn't react as the Maori would normally expect. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “HAHAHAHA! Francis, did I tell you I love Greenville? Finally, a crowd that sees this lumbering idiot for the waste of space that he is! AND they appreciate the greatness of Michael Alexander!” “King, Alexander lives here! Of course the crowd's going to cheer for him!” The Maori looks as though he is taken aback by the reaction, but it only last for a moment. However, that is enough for Michael to drag himself up to his hands and knees. Seeing this, the Badass responds with his characteristic vigor, booting the Mad Scientist squarely in the gut with a field goal worthy kick...or at least it would be in American football. Alexander grunts in pain and rolls away. The big Islander follows him, dragging the South Carolinian up by his head and executing a stunning headbutt! Alexander's legs buckle, but the Maori hoists him up into a high bodyslam, walking him around the ring for a few seconds before tossing him across the ring with a snarl! “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “Va'aiga is dominating Alexander now, King! If he doesn't figure out some way to neutralize the power and striking expertise of the Maori, this match isn't going to last long.” “This is only temporary, Francis. It's inevitable that the Maori was going to get in some offense; even a broken clock is right twice a day. Enjoy it while it lasts, because Michael will turn things around again in short order.” The Mad Scientist tries to get back up as Va'aiga stomps after him. He manages to get back to his feet in time for Va'aiga to fire off a nasty cacophony of body blows, driving him back into the corner. The Maori then whips his opponent into the corner. Alexander slumps into the corner after the impact and the Maori celebrates in his usual way – casting his hand aloft for the shaka sign and howling “BOO-YAH!” “This is not good for Michael Alexander, King. Once Va'aiga gets into a groove like this, you might as well try to ride out a tidal wave.” “Michael can handle this, Francis! He's got the force of destiny behind him; we're here in his hometown for the biggest show of the year for the biggest prize in the SWF!” With a frightening grin made even more horrific by his facial tattoos, Va'aiga charges in after Alexander with a brutal Yakuza kick! Michael Alexander, being the uncooperative buzzkiller that he is, drops under the kick, causing the Maori's right foot to go over the top rope as the Islander crashes into the corner! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Not one to let such an exquisite opportunity slip by, the Mad Scientist slides deftly out under the bottom rope and manages to grab the Maori's right foot before the stunned Badass can pull himself out of his predicament. With an obvious glee, Alexander tucks Va'aiga's foot under his right and settles back, using the top rope and turnbuckle as a brutal fulcrum to strain the beleaguered right leg of the Maori! To make matters worse, the Evil Genius slips his legs through the bottom and middle ropes to scissor the poor Maori's other leg and locks it in, putting terrific pressure on not only the legs and knees, but also the hip and groin of his monstrous opponent! For the first time in quite a while, the SWF fans are treated to a howl of pain from the Pacifican powerhouse! The Greenville crowd eats it up like funnel cakes! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “YES! This is perfect, Francis! Va'aiga's finding out why they call Michael Alexander the Mad Scientist of the Mat; there's not even a name for that hold!” “This is the worst position for Va'aiga to be in for sure, King. Alexander only needs one chance for a hold like this to take most people out. Even though this hold is blatantly illegal, it lets Alexander do some severe damage before the ref forces him to break it.” It will remain a perpetual testimony to the sheer fortitude of Va'aiga that he was able to remain upright mostly under his own power. Brock Samson snarls out a count after ordering Alexander to break the illegal hold. Alexander holds on for dear life as the count starts. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR... Alexander breaks just before the five-count is finished, and the Maori staggers away from the corner, his right leg wobbling beneath him. The Evil Genius rolls back into the ring and quickly gets back to his feet. “And, as usual, Michael Alexander just avoids disqualification in an effort to hurt his opponent. That kind of thing is just uncalled for, King.” “Please, Francis, this is a World Title match. Nothing is uncalled for. You don't hold back when the big gold is on the line, especially when you're in front of your hometown!” Va'aiga comes after him with his normal reckless abandon, heedless of any damage done. However, the tender attentions of the Mad Scientist have slowed the Maori down enough to give Michael Alexander a bit of an advantage. Moving with the smooth grace of natural talent and continuous practice, the Evil Genius snags the right arm of his oncoming opponent, twisting it into a standing arm bar. The Maori groans and tries to power his way out of it, but Michael Alexander methodically wrenches the arm to force him into compliance. “Alexander going back to his basics on the big man. I'm not sure getting this close to Va'aiga is a good idea, King. The big man is still in this match, and he's got a big size and power advantage.” “Look, Francis, Va'aiga is on his knees and Alexander is in control. I think that makes this a good idea!” Unfortunately for Alexander, compliance is not exactly one of the Islander's strong suits. The big man reaches for Alexander's grip on his wrist with his left hand, struggling stubbornly through the pain of the classic hold. More than a little disheartened by this, the Mad Scientist takes a different tack, snapping off a couple of crisp kicks to the Maori's right leg, the subject of his recent attention. The leg buckles despite the angry snarl of the Pacifican, dropping him to one knee and giving Alexander some extra leverage on the arm bar. Surprisingly, at least to Michael, this does not stop the monstrous Maori's struggles. As a matter of fact, it seems to have lit a fire under the big man, who tries to surge back up and toss Alexander away like a sack of rotten fruit! Another wrench of the arm slows the Maori just enough for Alexander to initiate a surge of his own, leaping up to deliver his patented heel-kick enzuigiri to the annoyed Maori! Alexander rolls smoothly back to his feet, smiling...only to gaze into the countenance of a furious Va'aiga, who has not been so much staggered by the assault on his cranium as energized by it! “Uh-oh! Michael Alexander seems to have gotten the Maori's dander up! It's about to get ugly, King!” “Va'aiga starts out ugly, Francis. I know it's tough for Michael to adjust to Va'aiga; he's used to dealing with people whose heads are more than hatracks or blunt instruments.” The maddened Maori drives a startingly fast left jab into the Evil Genius' jaw, stagger him! Unfortunately for Michael Alexander, that's merely the tip of the iceberg he just walked into, as the Maori fires off a second left jab, rocking the Mad Scientist like a headline heavy metal concert! A third left jab leaves little doubt as to what's coming, and Va'aiga puts an exclamation point on the scene with a “BOO-YAH!” and a thunderous right hook that flattens Alexander like a cheap pancake. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Va'aiga is pummeling Alexander now. The Champion is at his best here; that BOO-YAH was not a good sign for the so-called Evil Genius, King.” “No need to mock your betters, Francis. Sure, the Maori has gotten to turn this into another brawl, but Michael Alexander won't let it last long.” Va'aiga stumbles a little after the hook, and takes a moment to regain his balance as Alexander tries to regain his senses. The big Islander stalks around behind his opponent, and as Michael reaches his feet he finds himself snagged in a rear waistlock. It's very likely that, even in his befuddled, post- “BOO-YAH” combination state, Michael Alexander's lightning-quick analytical mind recognized the situation he was in, and formulated any number of devastating and effective countermeasures. Unfortunately, his body was not in any shape to perform any of them at that moment, leaving him to suffer the indignity of being German suplexed by the Maori Badass. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Rolling Suplexes! Va'aiga is definitely on a roll now, King!” “Punning doesn't make you any less ridiculous, Francis. So the Maori is getting in a few shots. Michael Alexander is still walking out with that belt, and the SWF will still be saved!” That indignity is compounded further as the Pacifican rolls him over with the rear waistlock and muscles him into a full nelson grip, relishing the situation for a moment before whipping the Evil Genius back to the mat with a dragon suplex! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” The calumny starts into geometric progression as Va'aiga hauls Alexander back up using the full nelson, then shifts his grip to a half-nelson cross-arm choke, and flips the smaller man onto his head with the Swiss suplex! Alexander flops limply to the mat. The Maori nods to himself as he rolls Alexander over and goes for the pin! ONE! TWO...! NO! “YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “One count away, King! Va'aiga is seriously dominating this match now. There's only so many headdrops that Alexander can take.” “Th-that's just stupid, Francis. Va'aiga is just delaying the inevitable.” The Maori and the referee both looks surprised as Michael Alexander manages to slip his shoulder off the mat by the merest of margins. Va'aiga grabs Alexander's head and begins pounding his cranium into the mat, only stopping when Alexander flops into the ropes and Brock Samson orders the break. The Maori clambers back to his feet, still favoring his right leg more than a little. Alexander is slow to even roll himself over. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Is Alexander even in this match now, King? He is barely able to get back up.” “He's in it, Francis! Va'aiga can't fight history and destiny! Come on, Michael!” The big Islander begins stalking Alexander as the Mad Scientist pulls himself back to his feet. Just as Alexander gets up and turns toward the Maori, Va'aiga charges him, sending the smaller man up and over with his spear tackle! Alexander lands on his head and shoulders behind the Badass, but to his credit still stubbornly remains conscious. Va'aiga shakes his right arm and flexes his shoulder, still feeling a little of the earlier work Alexander did on his arm, and obviously noting that using that shoulder in his spear tackle did not help matters. This of course does not hamper his ability to once again throw up the shaka sign and shout, “BOO-YAH!” The crowd responds at least partly in kind. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “See, Francis? Va'aiga is still suffering from Alexander's attacks. The blood is in the water.” “Then why is that desperate edge in your voice, King?” Michael Alexander is still lying on the mat when Va'aiga approaches him. The monstrous Maori pulls him up and forces the still staggered South Carolinian into a standing headscissors and smiles to the crowd, pointing toward the outside of the ring. The Pacifican powerhouse then hoists Alexander up onto his shoulders and into position for a powerbomb! The big man then heads for the ropes, intending to toss his hapless opponent over the top rope. Alexander desperately fires a series of punches at Va'aiga's head, but that works about as well as you might expect. Va'aiga falters a little, but keeps heading for the ropes with Alexander poised for the powerbomb. Alexander then resorts to a different tactic. He grabs one of the fingers on Va'aiga's left hand, twisting it. The Maori loses his grip on Alexander for the merest of moments as he gets to the ropes...and that is just enough. Alexander rolls to his left, flinging his right leg quickly over Va'aiga's head and using his legs to scissor Va'aiga's right arm, pulling it quickly into a version of the flying armbar! This maneuver coupled with the two wrestler's position leaves Alexander hanging outside the ring clutching Va'aiga's right arm in the jujigatame, with all of Alexander's weight pulling Va'aiga's armpit down across the top rope, putting even more pressure on the shoulder! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “Good God! Again Michael Alexander pulls an incredible save! And he's pulling Va'aiga's arm out of its socket with that flying armbar!” “That's right, Francis! That's why you never count a guy like Michael Alexander out. No matter what, he's always able to pull out something that nobody could even conceive of, let alone do!” The Maori roars in pain and anger. Alexander holds on and wrenches the armbar as much as he can. This also has the not-to-be-discounted benefit of keeping him from plummeting to the floor as Va'aiga had obviously intended. Fortunately for the Pacifican powerhouse, the hold in ridiculously illegal and Brock Samson snarls at Alexander to break the hold as he starts the count. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR... Alexander reluctantly breaks the hold rather than risk a disqualification. Luckily he manages to avoid plummeting to the floor by grabbing the ropes as he releases the Va'aiga's arm. Still more than a little rattled by the Maori's assault, the Evil Genius hangs on the the apron, catching his breath and trying to recover his bearings. As Alexander is technically outside the ring, Brock Samson starts his count. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Va'aiga, for his part, staggers away from the ropes, cradling his right arm with a grimace of pain and fury. Turning back to his opponent, the big Islander stomps back over to try and drag him back into the ring. Alexander slumps against the ropes wearily, and the angry Maori reaches for him...but it seems that Alexander was playing possum, as he grabs Va'aiga's right wrist and drops form the apron, snapping the Maori's shoulder across the top rope! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “Ha! Again, the Maori puts himself right where Michael Alexander wants him, Francis! If this were a chess game, we'd be saying 'checkmate' right now!” “Not so fast, King. We both know how quick the momentum can shift in the ring. I have to admit that Va'aiga let his enthusiasm get the better of him there.” Michael Alexander grins wickedly as he rolls back into the ring, but it is clear that he's not moving as quickly or as smoothly as he normally could. Va'aiga staggers back from the ropes, again forced to cradle his right arm as he howls in pain. Michael charges after Va'aiga, this time shifting gears to deliver a nasty chopblock right to the injured Maori's right knee! The big man goes down hard, taking most of the impact on his right shoulder due to the angle of Alexander's perfectly angled chopblock on his knee. Va'aiga has only a moment to gasp at the pain before Alexander begins stomping methodically on the Maori's right arm, working his way from the shoulder down to the hand, ending with a truly vicious stomp onto Va'aiga's fingers for that little extra. The Greenville fans count along: “ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” “FOUR!” “FIVE!” “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” “That arm is going to be a liability now, King, and he's already worked over that leg. Alexander is trying to put a damper on that lariat, I think.” “Of course he is! That's how a tactical wrestler works. You take away your opponent's strengths. This would a lot more satisfying if Va'aiga could understand what was happening.” Va'aiga snarls as he snatches his hand away from the vicious attention of Michael Alexander. The big Maori rolls away and struggles back to his feet. Va'aiga has just made it to his feet when Michael Alexander delivers a spinning back kick to the big man's ample midsection, doubling the injured Islander over. Alexander bounces off the nearby ropes and charges, cracking Va'aiga's conveniently placed jaw with a running knee lift! The Maori staggers away, a little stunned but still standing. “And Alexander hits with a knee lift, but the Maori is still up, King!” “Va'aiga never really knows when to give it up, Francis. No surprise there.” Michael Alexander, looking a little flummoxed at Va'aiga's continual, stubborn uprightness, grabs Va'aiga's right arm, twisting it into a standing arm wringer. The big man growls and starts to power out of the the basic hold. Alexander snaps a quick knee into the Maori's gut, doubling the big man over once again. The Mad Scientist throws his right leg over Va'aiga's right shoulder, then leaps up, putting his body's entire weight on the Maori's shoulder, driving the Pacifican and his injured shoulder into the mat while keeping the arm bar scissored. Before the maddened Maori can surge up to avenge this iniquity, the Evil Genius then traps his opponent's right arm in an inverted shortarm scissors! “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “The Mad Scientist of the Mat strikes again, Francis! I don't know what to call that, but I know I like it!” “Michael is really throwing everything he's got at the Maori, King. I don't know how Va'aiga is going to be able to deal with this kind of thing. The Maori is a bit out of his element.” The monstrous Maori roars like a crippled lion as the Mad Scientist begins to rock back and forth, exerting terrible pressure on Va'aiga's shoulder and arm. Alexander screams to the ref to ask the Maori. Brock Samson growls the question, and the Maori spits out a decisive negative, followed by an expletive of equal decisiveness. Alexander excoriates the big man as he wrenches the hold. The Badass pushes himself up to his hands and knees. Michael Alexander tries to force the big man back down, but Va'aiga forces the Evil Genius over onto his back, putting Alexander's shoulders on the mat! Brock Samson, who had been watching for the big man's tapout, now begins to count the Evil Genius down! ONE! TWO! THREE... NO! “The Maori with a surprisingly technical counter to the hold. He was this close to holding Alexander down for a three count!” “It was surprising, Francis, I'll give you that. I find it surprising when that big lug doesn't trip over his knuckles. I don't think you can call rolling over a 'technical counter,' though.” Alexander wrenches the hold violently and rolls his shoulder up, forcing the big man back down onto his belly and left elbow from the sheer angular force on his right shoulder. The Pacifican powerhouse howls in frustration and pain, but miraculously he begins to drive himself back up...first to his knees, then to his feet, remaining hunched over. Even the audience gasps as Va'aiga uses his pinioned arm and shoulder to lift his surprised opponent up off the mat, perching Alexander perilously on his shoulder. The Evil Genius has a completely flabbergasted look on his normally arrogant mug as the Maori fights through the agony of the modified shortarm scissor to smash Alexander to the mat with a diving powerbomb! The audience mostly boos and chants for the hometown boy, but a strong undercurent of support for the hyperdetermined Maori, whose mettle has impressed even the biased Greenvillians. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “VAH-ING-AH! VAH-ING-AH!” “HOLY CRAP! Va'aiga just powerbombed his way out of that hold! What a counter! I can only imagine the pain he had to deal with to do this!” “That Maori just doesn't know when to quit! He could have pulled his arm out of its socket doing that! And now where does that leave him? He's still hurt!” Both men are lie on the mat, gasping for breath either from sheer agony like Va'aiga or from having all the breath After a moment, Brock Samson starts to count both men down. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! “VAH-ING-AH! VAH-ING-AH!” “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” The two grapplers each struggle to their feet. Va'aiga's right arm seems to be only barely servicable. Michael Alexander shakes his head, stumbling a little from the powerbomb's aggravation of the earlier punches and headdrops by the Maori Badass. Alexander tries to fire off a punch at his opponent's head, but even an injured Va'aiga is still a natural brawler, blocking the blow with ease, then driving a headbutt into Alexander's inflated cranium. The Evil Genius, being struck with the problems of trading punches with even an injured Badass, shifts his attention to Va'aiga's right leg, peppering it with a series of nasty kicks! The Maori stumbles, momentarily dropping to one knee. Alexander then hits the ropes and rebounds, going for a flying forearm to take down the Maori...but Va'aiga surges back to his feet in a flood of angry adrenaline to catch Alexander in a lateral press! The big Islander stumbles with his opponent's weight and his right arm shows signs of weakness. However, he only has to hoist Alexander up and drop him down with a brutal Maori Drop near the corner! “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “VAH-ING-AH! VAH-ING-AH!” “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “Wow! I thought Michael was going to take over again, but the Maori Badass reasserted himself with some authority! He squashed Alexander with that Maori Drop, King!” “Come on, Michael! You can't let this buffoon continue to drag the SWF down the toilet!” Michael Alexander sprawls lifelessly on the mat. Va'aiga clambers back to his feet and looks at the corner, then throws the shaka sign, only grimacing slightly as he bellows, “BOO-YAH!” Some of the audience follow suit, and the Maori slowly ascends the turnbuckles. Alexander still lies on the mat, exactly where Va'aiga planted him. Howling, Va'aiga leaps down with the P.O.P., pumping his legs to fling himself down onto his hapless opponent! But Alexander rolls with amazing alacrity toward the turnbuckle and out of Va'aiga's path! The big man can do nothing but crash to the canvas, grunting with the impact. The Maori curls up, cradling his right arm, his shoulder rattled by his unceremonious encounter with the mat. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “VAH-ING-UH! VAH-ING-UH!” “YES! Alexander's still in this, Francis! And the Maori just got a face full of canvas!” “Alexander narrowly avoided that P.O.P., King, but he's still taken a severe beating. I don't know if he can come back at this point!” In an unspeakable display of raw vitality, the big man gets back to his feet before Alexander. He staggers against the ropes, using them to support his weight. Michael Alexander also uses the ropes, slowly clambering back to his feet. Seeing Va'aiga teetering, Alexander begins to stagger toward the Maori. As Alexander approaches, the Maori Badass springs off the ropes with an burst of speed that he manifests for only one purpose...the head-taking, victory-making, earth-shaking... LLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAATOOOOOOO... But Alexander rolls backward and down as the Pacifican powerhouse charges, dropping beneath the rampaging Maori, scissoring Va'aiga's right leg and catching his ankle...! The Islander has no choice but to fall right into the Gordian Knot! Alexander wrenches at the hold like a man possessed, knowing that this is quite possibly his last chance. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “MICH-AEL! MICH-AEL!” “VAH-ING-UH! VAH-ING-UH!” “TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!” “I love it! The Maori bungled his way into the Gordian Knot by going for that lariat! Alexander had him scouted and now Va'aiga is learning why he lost this match before it started!” “It does look bad for Va'aiga now, King, but he's been able to fight his way out before! Don't count him out just yet.” “I don't want to count him out yet, Francis; I want him to suffer a bit more first!” The Maori howls as his leg is stretched at a sickening angle. He tries to reach for the ropes, but they're too far. His own charge has left him sprawled in the middle of the ring. He struggles to haul himself closer to the ropes, but even as he raises himself up, Michael Alexander puts even more pressure on his right leg, and even the Maori's raw-boned vigor is not enough to allow him to force his beleaguered form to injure itself further. He drops back to the mat. Once again, he struggles toward the ropes, and Michael Alexander desperately responds...with nary an inch gained toward salvation. A ball of rage builds in the Maori Badass, as the realization dawns that he can't escape. Slowly, the ball of rage is drowned in a flood of gall as he comes to the only decision he can reach. However, the inevitability makes it no easier for Va'aiga to do what must be done... TAP! TAP! TAP! “Va'aiga tapped out! I can't believe it! King, we've got a new champion!” “We had a new champion as soon as this match was made, Francis, but it is satisfying to finally see things back the way they should be.” Referee Brock Samson calls for the bell... DING! DING! DING! Alexander slumps back, releasing the Gordian Knot, and Va'aiga rolls away. Both men struggle to their feet again and stare at each other. Brock Samson brings up the belt and hands it to Michael Alexander, who stares at it. Va'aiga glares at them both as Samson somewhat reluctantly raises Michael Alexander's hand to his hometown crowd. “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “The big Maori gave everything he had and then some, but Michael Alexander pushed himself to his limits here. I think it could have gone either way, but Alexander's tactical approach managed to weaken the big man just enough to get the win.” “Francis, stop sounding so surprised. Michael Alexander was the better wrestler, and he won the match by wrestling. When it came down to it, Va'aiga just wasn't able to turn this into the brawl he needed to win.” Alexander raises the title over his head turning to every side of the Bi-Lo Center as the crowd roars. Va'aiga favors his leg still, and he leaves the ring as Michael Alexander basks in the adulation of his hometown crowd as we... FADE OUT!

IGN just tossed up a vid of MVP. They gave him his drive-by boot to the head as a signature move. It looks almost like he's stomping them in the head rather than kicking them. Anyway, here's the link to IGN's video.