Losing Matches Thread.

[Guest Kibagami]

Meh, fuck, and other exclamations of disappointment. I tried to work some arm psychology into a 3500-word match, and I ignored the no-DQ stip for most of the second half. May have been a mistake on my part. Feedback would be appreciated, especially from Stubby, if you get a chance to reply. Cheers.

 

S.

 

 

 

The beginning of AC/DC’s “TNT” thunders throughout the arena as the cameras return from

another commercial for “Frost” brand cigars. The entrance curtain begins to rustle as the camera

focuses in on the entrance ramp...

 

“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown!” echoes the disembodied voice of Mark Stevens Taylor

Nicholas Thompson emerges into a cornucopia of red and orange spotlights. The letters

“T-N-T” flash rapidly on the Smarkstron, accompanied by the Explosive One’s trademark

“Watch me exploooooooode!” booming over the PA. The warmer half of Chilly Chilly Bang

Bang briskly makes his way down the aisle, his trusty aluminum baseball bat in hand, doing his

best to ignore the various boos and catcalls being hurled at him from the audience.

 

“This matchup is scheduled for one fall, and is a no-disqualification matchup. Introducing first, he weighs in at two hundred sixty-seven pounds, and hails from Anaheim, California….representing the Magnificent Seven, and one-half of the SWF Tag Team champions…T….N….T!”

 

“Quite the warm reception for one-half of the tag team champions,” notes ‘Grand Slam’ as

Thompson climbs into the ring. The camera stays focused on the Explosive One as he

“KABOOM!”s his way across the ring, taking a moment as he reaches each corner to extend a

greeting of his own to the crowd.

 

“He’s giving back as good as he’s getting, Stevens...the question, though, is will he be able to

continue that trend tonight?”

 

“A good question indeed, Bobbi. I’m almost impressed with you.”

 

“Really, Mark? Really and truly?”

 

“Well...no.” Stevens grins as the camera returns to the announcer’s table, where a crestfallen

Bobbi Riley resignedly lowers his head and tries to hold back the oncoming tears. “For those of

you who missed last week’s program, TNT’s ill-timed interference cost Creative Control an

important tag team match against X-Force Nine last week on Storm, and Stubby is not too

pleased with Thompson.”

 

“That’s right, Stevens,” chimes Riley, doing his best to appear unfazed by his co-announcer’s

blistering verbal assault. “Fortunately for TNT, Creative Control is otherwise occupied with

more IMPORTANT people at the moment, and Stubby can’t afford to take the time out of his

busy schedule to hurt the Explosive One appropriately for his foul-up...”

 

And just as Riley finishes his sentence, the arena’s lights go out...and the Chinese character that

signifies “Retribution” flashes suddenly on the Smarkstron.

 

“But UNfortunately for Thompson, Stubby’s also found someone willing to make the time.”

 

What do you believe...(There’s nothing left of me)

What do you believe...(There’s nothing left to see)

What do you believe...(There’s nothing left of me)

 

Who should you believe...

 

An eerie cloud of white fog begins to billow out from behind the entrance curtains, and the

strobe lights surrounding the entrance ramp begin to flash a piercing bright light as Spineshank’s

“Detached” echoes through the rafters, doubling back upon itself and increasing in volume. The

crowd boos the dramatic effects enormously, partially because of how difficult it is to see

through them, but mainly because of the entrance they herald.

 

“Listen to this crowd, Riley! As much as they hate TNT and the Magnificent Seven, I think the

SWF fans hate Silent that much more!”

 

“Introducing second…he weighs in at two hundred and forty-eight pounds, and hails from Phoenix, Arizona…SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

 

As “Detached” reaches its chorus, the Silent One emerges through the fog at the top of the

ramp, his coat trailing behind him, his cane clutched tightly in his right hand. The former

Clansman walks to ringside slowly, but deliberately, and the camera cuts to a shot of a very

focused Taylor Nicholas Thompson awaiting the Slaughterer’s entrance...

 

“We saw a brief confrontation earlier in the show between the Silent One and Stubby P.

McWeed, if you’ll recall, Bobbi, where Silent basically offered his...services, I suppose, to

Creative Control for the time being. Stubby made this match no-disqualification to further

facilitate this impromptu business arrangement. TNT is going to have to be on top of his game

tonight if he expects to win, much less make it out of this match without a serious injury or two.”

 

“Well, Mark, he looks to be on top of his game to me.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Mark, the match is no-DQ, and Thompson brought a big freakin’ bat to the ring. I don’t know

about you, but I think that means he’s fairly prepared.”

 

Silent pauses at the top of the steel stairs at ringside to remove his coat and tie his jet-black hair

back out of his eyes before stepping through the ropes...but he does not relinquish his cane to

Eddy Long, opting to take it with him as he goes to meet the Explosive One in the center of the

ring as the final verses of “Detached” fade from the sound system.

 

“Thompson’s got that aluminum bat of his, and Silent has his blasted cane...this is looking less

and less like a wrestling match and a whole lot more like a streetfight to me.”

 

“Actually, Mark, I was thinking of it as a confrontation between two Sith lords to determine

who will rule supreme over this hotly-contested corner of the galaxy.”

 

“Riley, do you see any lightsabers in the ring?”

 

“Well, no...but you’ve got to work with me, Mark. I think the metaphor is particularly powerful

considering that-”

 

“Considering that you’re acting like a gigantic flaming dolt, Bobbi. Stop it.”

 

“But you’re not listening. If you pretend for a minute that-”

 

“Bobbi, if you make the Darth Vader/Silent comparison that I think you’re thinking of, I’m going

to beat you within an inch of your life, okay?”

 

“But if you think of the Emperor as-”

 

“I’m thinking of stapling your mouth shut, all right??”

 

“...Sorry, Mark.”

 

“Anyway, it looks like referee Eddy Long is ready to start this match...”

 

*DING DING*

 

“I think TNT has a small advantage as far as size and strength are concerned, but Silent is

deceptively quick in the ring, and I’ve NEVER seen someone absorb as much punishment as

the Slaughterer does and keep coming back for more. This looks to me like it’s too close to

call, Riley. Your thoughts on the subject, dork-boy?”

 

The two combatants stand face to face in the center of the ring, each one trying to psych out the

other in the early stages of the match...a small but vocal group of fans in the third row begin

chanting, “T-N-T! T-N-T!”, but for the most part, the crowd is uncomfortably quiet...

 

“Well, Mark, you know how I mark for all things Clan-related, and in the absence of the Clan

proper as a stable, Silent’s going to have to be my pick by defau...there he goes!”

 

Riley squeals with girlish delight as the Slaughterer makes the first move, swinging his cane

directly at TNT’s temple, but the Explosive One is just a moment ahead of his opponent,

doubling Silent over with a swift kick to the gut. TNT raises his trusty baseball bat high...

 

...And the fans pop for TNT?

 

WHACK!

 

The crowd suddenly comes alive as Thompson brings his aluminum bat crashing down against

the Slaughterer’s spine! An involuntary grunt escapes Silent’s lips as the force of the blow drives

him down to one knee.

 

“TNT gets the first blow of this contest, and the fans are actually cheering for him!”

 

“Actually, Mark, I think they’re cheering for the aluminum bat. It has that ‘superstar’ look about

it.”

 

WHACK!

 

WHACK!

 

Taylor rams the bat down into Silent’s exposed back, driving the Slaughterer down to the

mat...but Silent rises to one knee, a defiant look in his eyes, as Thompson carefully lines up one

more shot...

 

WHACK!

 

TNT lands his parting shot directly across the jaw of Silent, sending the former Clannite

sprawling to the mat! A thin jet of blood sprays out from Silent’s busted lips as he collapses,

face-down, on the canvas. Thompson advances confidently on his fallen opponent, a wide grin

visible on his face as the fans get solidly behind the Explosive One.

 

“T-N-T! T-N-T! T-N-T! T-N-T!”

 

“Thompson has Silent down, Riley, and he’s not moving! That no-disqualification stipulation that

Stubby added at the top of the show may be coming back to haunt him!”

 

The camera cuts briefly to the announce table, where Bobbi Riley is rapidly running out of nails

to bite, before switching back to the ring, where TNT is raising his bat high above his head,

preparing to deliver a knockout punch of sorts to his opponent...

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

 

...And Silent rolls out of the way, avoiding the oncoming aluminum bat by the closest of margins!

As TNT turns, the Slaughterer scoops up his cane from the canvas as he rises to a crouching

position...

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

“Silent scores a shot to the gut with that cane of his! How the hell is he even conscious right

now?”

 

“He’s the Slaughterer, Mark,” quips Riley as a slow-motion replay of TNT’s bone-jarring last

shot at the Silent One appears on the Smarkstron. “He’s suicidal, he’s homicidal, he’s frickin’

genocidal, and he’s just plain eeeeeeevil to boot!”

 

“Are you ripping off anybody we know, Riley?”

 

“I don’t think so, no.”

 

The explosive half of the tag-team champions backs off, the wind driven painfully out of him,

and Silent stands. The crowd immediately switches from cheering TNT to booing the

Slaughterer as Silent licks his lips, tasting the peculiar flavor of his own blood...

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

..before driving the steel tip of his cane into TNT’s right arm, forcing Thompson to drop his

weapon!

 

“Good God, did you hear those cane shots?” breathes Grand Slam as TNT backs away from

his opponent, leaving the bat behind. “Silent may have actually bruised TNT’s biceps, perhaps

even fractured the bone! The Explosive One’s going to be at a serious disadvantage for the rest

of this match!”

 

Casually tossing his cane behind him, Silent approaches TNT, who reclines against the

turnbuckle, gingerly holding his arm...Thompson, appropriately, explodes out of the corner,

hoping to catch the Silent One off his guard with a clothesline, but Silent calmly ducks the lariat,

grabs hold of TNT’s right arm, and twists violently to his right, dropping the larger man to the

man with an arm dragon screw. As soon as TNT hits the mat, Silent scrambles into position for

a short-arm scissors, again on his opponent’s injured arm, drawing an audible groan from the

crowd.

 

“Silent loves to target a body part and systematically break it down for an easy win, and that

no-disqualification stipulation seems to have made the Slaughterer’s job much easier. TNT

needs to keep Silent on his toes and off the mat if he’s going to have a chance.”

 

Back in the ring, Silent calmly shifts his weight to the right to prevent TNT from rolling out of the

hold, drawing a snicker from Bobby Riley back at the announce table. “Please, Mark, give

credit where it’s due. Silent is one of the premier mat technicians in the SWF today. Do you

really think Explodo-Boy has a chance at outwrestling him?”

 

“I’m not saying he does or he doesn’t, Riley, but anybody can make a mistake.”

 

“Shush. Name the last mistake you saw Silent make in the ring.”

 

“Well, there was that triangle hardcore match where he allowed himself to be pinned...”

 

“Shut up, Mark! That was all part of his master plan, a plan designed specifically to...”

 

“Riley, please have some dignity, would you?”

 

As Thompson tries to roll to his right, towards the ropes, Silent pushes the Explosive One’s left

shoulder back to the canvas, pinning his shoulders to the mat!

 

ONE!

 

TW-Thompson realizes his predicament, and immediately powers out of the pin...only to have

the Silent One reach over with his right arm and repeat the process!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

With an audible grunt, TNT uses his good arm to push himself off the mat and towards the

ropes. Silent is powerless to maintain the pressure on the injured right arm and prevent his

opponent from reaching the ropes...so he quickly adjusts his position and cinches in an armbar!

 

The Explosive One’s first indication of Silent’s change in tactics is the searing pain that shoots

up his injured arm as the Silent One wrenches backwards, trying his best to dislocate TNT’s

shoulder or hyperextend his elbow. Thompson wisely locks his hands together and pulls against

Silent with his left arm, alleviating some of the pressure...but it also prevents him from grabbing

hold of the ropes.

 

“A brilliant maneuver by the ever-resourceful Silent One!” gushes Riley as the two combatants

continue to struggle over the armbar. Mark Stevens shoots a look of disgust at his companion,

and the camera quickly cuts back to the in-ring action.

 

Silent continues pulling hard on his opponent’s right arm, doing his damnedest to break TNT’s

tenuious grip. The warmer half of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang braces himself as best he can...

 

“RRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!”

 

...And pulls Silent ever so slightly up off the canvas...before rolling to the right, and using the

added momentum to propel himself into the ropes!

 

“A throughly impressive display of strength from the Explosive One!” notes Stevens as Eddy

Long begins the five-count, forcing the Slaughterer to break the hold...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

“Impressive or not, Mark, it won’t do him a lot of good...”

 

FIVE!

 

Eddy Long goes to ring the bell, disqualifying Silent from the match, and the crowd is on their

feet in anticipation...

 

...until both the referee and the crowd remember that the match is no-disqualification.

 

Whoops.

 

Eddy Long turns back to the two althletes in the ring just in time to see the Silent One laughing in

his face. The Slaughterer smiles at Long, a sickening grin that is captured for posterity on the

Smarkstron, before turning his attention back to TNT.

 

“Wait a minute, Thompson still has a hold on those ropes...and he’s standing up!”

 

Mark Stevens’ observation is not lost on the crowd, who begin to stir as TNT uses his free arm

to pull himself upright; nor is it lost on the Slaughterer, who notices, with no small amount of

dismay, that he is slowly being lifted off the mat!

 

The Explosive One grabs hold of Silent’s belt with his free hand, and lifts the Slaughterer up

above his head, as if for a powerbomb...then drops him backwards, throat-first, onto the ropes!

The Silent One sputters and chokes on the canvas, gasping for air, as TNT carefully climbs to

the second turnbuckle, taking special care not to put any pressure on his right arm.

 

“Just like that, the momentum has reversed, and Thompson is back in this match!”

 

“Bah! You only THINK the momentum has reversed! Everything you’re seeing right now is

alllllll a part of Silent’s master plan...”

 

Riley trails off into a perplexed silence as TNT comes flying off the second turnbuckle and

drives his left elbow into Silent’s chest with a resounding THUD!

 

“TNT hooks the leg!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

“Wait, this isn’t in the plan, I think...”

 

TH-Silent kicks out, much to the crowd’s dismay.

 

“Ah ha! Wasn’t in the master plan!”

 

“Riley, you really do astound me sometimes.”

 

Bobbi grins, apparently unaware of the sarcasm dripping from Grand Slam’s comment, as TNT

lifts Silent from the canvas. Thompson picks him up (being careful to deposit most of the weight

on his left arm), and deposits him on the top rope. The Explosive One cinches Silent up carefully

in an inverted fireman’s carry, looking to end the match with the Detonator...

 

....but Silent flips out of the hold and latches onto Thompson’s arm as he does so, trying to

muscle the stronger man to the ground and into position for a Fujiwara Armbar!

 

“Reversal by the Silent One!” screams Bobbi Riley, and TNT goes down to one knee...then

stands up, grits his teeth, and pushes back with all his might, crushing Silent between himself and

the turnbuckles! TNT turns around as Silent stumbles out of the corner and grabs Silent’s head

with his left arm, then sits out, planting the Slaughterer with a 3/4 facelock neckbreaker!

 

“And a beautiful counter from TNT!” yells Stevens, and the Explosive One is already on his

way to the top rope! Spurred on by the fans, who continue to support Thompson with sporadic

chants...

 

“T-N-T! T-N-T!”

 

And other chants that are...indirectly supportive...

 

“SI-LENT SUCKS! SI-LENT SUCKS!”

 

...the big man leaps from the top rope!

 

“TNT’s looking for the Shell Shock...”

 

“MISS! MISS, DAMN IT!”

 

THUD!

 

TNT connects!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

...

...

 

...And Silent kicks out!

 

A collective groan emenates from the crowd as TNT, looking beside himself, slowly rises to his

feet. Thompson slowly picks Silent up from the mat, trying to ignore the pain in his right arm, as

he cinches his opponent up in a double-underhook.

 

“TNT’s looking for that Dynamite powerbomb of his, a move that’s put many men away!”

 

“There’s no way he hits it, Mark! He’s trying to lift a 250-pound man with basically one arm!”

 

Silent instinctively drops to his knees, trying to block the move, but Thompson resolutely pulls

him up. The Explosive One lets loose a mighty shout, and the Slaughterer’s feet are lifted from

the mat...

 

“KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGH!”

 

Thompson’s victory yell transforms into a surprised shout of pain as something in TNT’s arm

knots up, preventing him from lifting his opponent for the Dynamite powerbomb. Thompson

releases Silent’s right arm for a brief moment as a bolt of searing agony shoots from his wrist to

his shoulder...

 

..and that brief moment is all the opening that Silent needs.

 

“Rolling Jujigatame, and on that injured arm, no less!” yells Riley, with no small amount of glee,

and the audience groans as they sense TNT’s impending defeat. “It’s no disqualification,

Stevens! Thompson’s got nowhere to go but down!”

 

TNT fights valiantly against the hold, but his arm is too injured, and Silent is much too tenacious

with a win mere seconds away. The crowd still chants TNT’s name, hoping to somehow change

the inevitable...

 

Thompson holds on...

 

He holds on...

 

He holds on...

 

...

...

 

And he taps out.

 

**DING DING**

 

“Your winner by submission....SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

 

Spineshank’s “Detached” hits the speakers once again, and Eddy Long resignedly hands Silent

his coat. The Silent One pauses for a moment, looks down at the injured member of the

tag-team champions...smirks, and leaves the ring.

 

“A valiant effort from Taylor Nicholas Thompson, but in the end, Silent emerges with the duke,”

observes Mark Stevens. “There’s only so much you can put on an arm or a leg before it breaks,

and TNT knows that just as well as Silent does...honestly, I think that match could have gone

on much longer, but Thompson made the wise, if unfortunate decision, to tap and prevent

further injury to his arm...”

 

The camera captures one final shot of Silent walking up the ramp, “Detached” nearly drowning

out the boos and catcalls from the crowd, as we starwipe to another commerical...

 

...for Frost brand cigars, of course.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

I loved it, but it was very unconventional.

 

TNT's match, while somewhat unbalanced, had more "moves" and more of a build in them. I marked like hell for the extended submission sequences, but I can see why this one didn't take the cake. Too bad. Me likee.

 

::sheds a single tear::

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Wow, great match.

 

The main thing you need to improve on though, is ruling more than me, until then, I will always beat you.

[Guest Kibagami]

::pins TNT off a backdrop in thirty-four seconds::

 

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

S.