What Would Have Happened If The Tapes Got Lost

[Guest Ace309]

I haven't seen one of these since my bump, but out of habit here we go.

 

====================================

 

We return from a commercial for Red Hat Linux featuring Annie E ("Because anything else is more convoluted than my history.... blargledyargle, Windows sucks.") and show a wide-angle shot of the Atlantic City Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The fans are shouting their usual "GRAND SLAM! GRAND SLAM!" chant, and the camera catches fans holding signs such as "Drop Acid Rayn," "Carnival Knowledge" and "Black Mist 4 Life." The SmarkTron shows photos of Durandal and Chris Raynor, with the US Title graphic below Durandal's picture, and finally the camera pans over to the announce table.

 

"We're live from Atlantic City," bellows Mark Stevens, "and we've got another exciting Storm underway! We opened up with Thoth taking on Johnny Rotten, and now we continue the theme of Clan versus Carnival as the Rayn Man takes on the Angry Man, Durandal defends his US Title against Chris Raynor! Later on tonight, World Champion and Carnival Ringmaster Edwin MacPhisto will take on Fallout with the added threat of ICTV Champ Sacred in a non-title match. And, somewhere in there, we've got a defense by Tag Team Champions Chris Wilson and Stryke against former X Force 9 stablemates Longdogger Pete and Ash Ketchum, and a singles match between Mercury and Xero! What a stacked card tonight in the Garden State!"

 

"Oh, quit pissing yourself over the damn Midnight Carnival," grunts Bobby Riley. "They main event every card here, but who are the top workers? MacPhisto? Pffffft." The spittle factor is HUGE. "I'll tell you what, this young man, Durandal, he's one of the best workers in the whole federation right now. His workrate, marks out of ten, I'd give him eleven... whereas Raynor's just a big, ignorant Carnie who can barely work a zipper."

 

Stevens, visibly agitated, takes off his glasses and cleans them on the edge of his pinstriped sport jacket. "You do know, Bobby, that Chris Raynor has been owed a title shot for several weeks and, in fact, Jay Dawg was stripped of the title rather than defend against him."

 

"Exactly. They didn't think he was good enough to give him the title by default, and he's certainly not good enough to take the title off this young, driven Clanster."

 

"We'll see when they prove it in the ring! Let's go to Funyon!"

 

Funyon, in the center of the ring wearing a white summer suit and a matching fedora, takes the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, just a side note before we begin: if you don't stop addressing me as 'Big Daddy,' there'll be hell to pay. And now, the next contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF US Championship!"

 

The lights go out. After a brief pause, "Electra Made Me Blind" by Everclear starts to play, and while lights begin to blink and flash. After the opening, when Art Alexakis screams "YEAH!" blue pyro explodes from all around the stage. The arena lights come back up, and Chris Raynor emerges from behind the curtain. Looking very fired up, he looks around at the cheering crowd, then takes his Midnight Carnival jersey off and throws it to the crowd, where legions of his fans scramble to pick it up. He makes his way to the ring, then enters and leans in his corner.

 

"Currently in the ring, the challenger... from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and weighing in at a lean, mean 250 pounds, a member of the Midnight Carnival... step right up for the Rayn Man, Chris RAYYYYYYYYNORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

 

The crowd cheers for Raynor, who throws his arms up and waves to the cheering masses. The lights go down again, though, and almost immediately the fans drop into a chorus of boos as the eerie intro to Stabbing Westward's "Darkest Days" starts to ring out through the arena. The SmarkTron fades to a blinding white, and the words "SO SAYS THE CLAN" appear on it in a black Gothic font. They throb and pulsate as Durandal brushes the curtain aside and walks out onto the stage wearing his black Clan robe. He unties the sash, revealing the US Title glinting in the spotlight. He crosses his arms and freezes, absorbing the arena's pure hatred for him. After a moment, he begins to stride to the ring confidently.

 

"And his opponent... from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 213 pounds... The SWF United States Champion... the Neglected Sword, DURANDAL!"

 

Durandal slides into the ring and ushers Funyon out of the center. He pulls his belt off and spreads it in the middle of the ring, then kneels down and bows before it. After bowing once, twice, three times as Mark Stevens mutters, "What a creep," Durandal picks the belt up, kisses it and hands it to referee Sexton Hardcastle. Durandal takes off his robe as Hardcastle holds the belt aloft, then gives it to the timekeeper and calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!

 

 

Raynor comes to the center of the ring and waits for Durandal to lock up. The US Champion stalls for a moment in his corner, then turns around and swaggers to the center looking like a fighting cock. He struts around Raynor, examining him from head to toe. Throughought the sizing-up, Chris just looks confused but goes along with it. As Durandal completes the circle around Raynor, he comes out to the front, gives Raynor one more once-over, and then slaps him open-handed across the face as hard as he can. Shocked, Raynor answers with a stiff right hand that sends his opponent reeling backwards! "Holy cow!" calls Stevens as Durandal staggers into the corner and shakes his head to regain his bearings. "It looks like Durandal's underestimated Raynor a little bit!"

 

Bobby Riley sighs painfully, then assumes a tone of voice normally reserved for a grandfather explaining to his grandchild why water comes out of the shower when you turn it on. "Haven't you ever heard of the rope-a-dope, you dope?"

 

"Isn't that normally employed later in the match than, say, the first punch?"

 

"That's one way to do it, alright."

 

Durandal stomps out of the corner looking angry and charges at Raynor, shoving him backwards. Raynor responds with another stiff right, this time knocking Durandal into the ropes. He stops his momentum by grabbing onto the top rope, then charges at Raynor. Raynor, looking disgusted at the US Champion's stupidity, throws his foot into the air for a big boot... which Durandal ducks! He spins behind, locks his hands and arches backwards, dumping Chris on his back with a quick and dirty German suplex! Sexton Hardcastle dives down to count the pin, but Raynor rolls through even before a one-count. Stunned, the Carnie rolls out of the ring and collects his thoughts on the outside. He looks dazed and stupefied, possibly injured by the stiff suplex.

 

"Was that Durandal underestimating Raynor, MARK? Was it?" Riley, at this point, seems to account for three quarters of the world's known supply of smug.

 

"Okay, so he hit Chris Raynor with one solid move. He took two punches to land one suplex. We'll see how far that gets him tonight."

 

Raynor tries to reenter the ring, but Durandal meets him with a Doc Marten baseball slide before he's able to make his way back in. He knocks Raynor backwards, then lands outside the ring and nails him with a pair of quick, stiff palm strikes to the chest. The Clan member quickly makes his way back into the ring, with the Carnie following him soon after despite being clearly stunned.

 

As Raynor gets to his feet, Durandal steps around and locks up for a vertical suplex. Raynor proves too strong for it, though, and actually manages to reverse the motion. He lifts Durandal high into the air and holds him upside down, his back against the ropes. Chris Raynor walks slowly toward the center of the ring, and when he gets there, spins around and casually drops backwards, slamming his opponent onto the mat. Durandal hits with sudden impact and practically bounces off the mat before he rolls to his stomach. Raynor rolls over and elbows him in the head, then locks his hands around his waist. He stands up, flips his opponent over and drops to one knee, slamming him across his knee in a vicious tiltawhirl backbreaker. Durandal crashes to the mat, and Raynor covers him for

 

ONE

 

 

TWO - Comfortable kickout for the US Champion.

 

Stevens adjusts his baseball cap. "Bobby, I'd have to say that Durandal seems a bit too cocky tonight. He's strutting up to Raynor and trying to hang with him as far as power goes, but he just can't."

 

"Durandal's cocky because he can be, Stevens. He rose to the top of the SJL faster than anyone in recent memory, and he defeated some of the top junior stars on the way there. Sure, he's getting caught now, but wait until the end of the match and see whose hand gets raised."

 

"At this rate, it looks like it's going to be Chris Raynor."

 

Raynor gets back to his feet and grabs his opponent by the hair to pull him up. He grabs the Clannie by the waist and again attempts to lift him up in the gutwrench position, but Durandal curls around his leg and takes hold of his foot. With a powerful twist of his arms, he torques Raynor's ankle and forces him to release the waistlock. Durandal spins around and comes out behind Raynor, then trips his free leg and secures an ankle lock, standing up and stepping around the leg to increase the pressure. Chris struggles, but can't quite reach the ropes. Sexton Hardcastle drops down to check for a submission, though by the time he gets to the mat, the SWF's favorite Caveman has started to push himself toward the ropes. He lunges... and grabs the ropes! The fans burst into cheers as Hardcastle counts "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!" and then forces Durandal to release the hold. He backs off with an uncharacteristic lack of cheap shots, and the camera catches him saying, "Listen, just get him back on his feet so I can (bleep) him up."

 

"My god, Bobby, did you hear that?"

 

"Yeah, Mark, he said he was going to (bleep) him up. What's the problem with that?"

 

"Well," says Stevens, "to begin with, we're a family show."

 

"Family show? Don't you remember who used to be on here? That gay, pantsless bastard who didn't care about anything except money shots and blowjobs? Family show? BAH! What the (bleep) are you talking about?"

 

"Stop that!"

 

"Ah, shut the (bleep) up."

 

Riley giggles to himself as we go back to the ring. Chris Raynor gets back to his feet and moves to the center of the ring, where Durandal meets him with a weak palm strike to the chest. Raynor absorbs the shot, but grabs his foe by the arm. With a quick wrench of the arm and a twist, he whips Durandal to the ropes and waits in position for the rebound. When the Clan member bounces off the ropes, Raynor lunges at him with a lariat. Durandal sees it coming, though, and ducks the clothesline. He performs a twist of his own and comes out behind, locking his hands around Raynor's waist. As soon as he catches on, the Rayn Man throws a stiff back elbow and then drops flat onto his stomach to prevent the throw, dragging the aggressor down with him. Frustrated, Durandal unlocks his hands and backs away from Raynor, letting him go the way a college wrestler cuts loose an opponent he'd rather take down and embarrass than ride to go for an honorable pin.

 

"Quite an astute move by the Carnival's junior member," intones Grand Slam. "I'm sure Chris Raynor's been watching a lot of films of Durandal, both from recent matches and from his days as the Superior One Tom Flesher, and he's clearly seen that Durandal makes some of his strongest attacks from behind."

 

"HOW DARE YOU?!" Obviously livid, Riley is practically screaming into his microphone. "Where on EARTH do you get off even IMPLYING that Durandal is gay, not that there's anything wrong with that? And even if he WERE gay, not that there's anything wrong with that, it would have absolutely NO bearing on this match. Mark Stevens, I would have thought you'd have higher journalistic standards than that. I'm disappointed."

 

Confused, Stevens pauses and then stammers, "Bobby, I'm just saying that his German suplexes and backdrop drivers are very stiff."

 

"Oh, 'backdrop driver,' is that what they're calling it now? In my day we didn't need playful, childish names for the genitals. We were content with using the correct, scientific terms, such as 'hoo-hah' and 'peen.'"

 

"God, would you PLEASE grow up?"

 

"It's okay, Mark. Seriously, they teach them this stuff in public schools now."

 

Raynor comes up to his knees and spins around to face his opponent, who tries to meet him with a Yakuza kick. Raynor, though, ducks it, grabs the leg and then comes up to his feet. With a flick of the wrists, he forces Durandal to collapse to the mat, and then follows him down with an elbowdrop into the small of the back. In one fluid motion, the challenger grabs his opponent by the wrist and yanks him to his feet, then sends him to the ropes. As he rebounds, Raynor catches him and hoists him skyward. As he falls backwards, Raynor pulls Durandal down with him and slams him forcefully to the mat. Grand Slam chuckles, "He doesn't just look like a pancake, folks. That move, as you know, is CALLED a flapjack, and that's about what Durandal feels like at this point."

 

Raynor grabs Durandal and pulls him to his feet yet again, realizing that he can basically put on a clinic of his power moves. Effortlessly, he spins his opponent around and ducks down to go for a belly-to-back suplex. Durandal, though, throws a back elbow and nails him in the face to pop him back up to his full height, then spins around and nails Raynor in the face with a spinning palm strike! As Bobby Riley calls, "ROARING SHOTEI!!!!!!!!" Raynor snaps backwards and falls down, stunned.

 

"Roaring Shotei?"

 

"Yeah, that's what they call it in Japan."

 

"You're making stuff up."

 

"Says the guy who says baseball players are tough."

 

Durandal drops cockily down onto Raynor, and Hardcastle counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO - KICKOUT! Raynor, still stunned, manages to kick out at two.

 

"I tell you, though, those palm strikes are extremely powerful," Stevens concedes. "Assuming he can set it up properly, Durandal might be able to ice the cake with one."

 

"Might? Damn, Mark, he WILL! That's it, I promise you right now, this match will end with a shotei."

 

But he's never right about the finish.

 

Durandal comes back up to his feet and pulls Raynor up by the arm. He tries to whip Raynor into the corner, but he's just not heavy enough or strong enough to force Raynor to go somewhere he doesn't want to go. When he realizes that, the US Champion looks up at Raynor angrily and smacks him across the face with yet another angry, disrespectful open-handed slap. Stevens is stunned by the audacity. "Durandal, a good three inches shorter and 35 pounds lighter than his opponent, is just trying to bully him! How he expects that to work...."

 

"Eh, he just knows he's superior to Raynor."

 

Stevens pauses. "What an odd thing to say."

 

"I know. Kind of literary and foreshadowy, wouldn't you say?"

 

With that, Durandal tries again to whip Raynor to the corner, but again, Raynor resists. Durandal looks up, very angry, and tries to slap Chris again, but the Carnie intercepts Durandal's hand and takes hold! As the fans cheer, Raynor grabs the hand and crushes it with all his might, twisting Durandal's wrist and forcing him to his knees with the intense pain! Raynor stands over Durandal, torquing, twisting and just generally hurting his left arm as the Clan member grimaces in pain. The camera zooms in to catch Durandal screaming, "OH GOD! JESUS! GOD, my ARM! HOLY (bleep)!" Stevens mutters, "Oh, not this (bleep) again...." and the US Champion starts to lunge desperately for the ropes. Raynor continues twisting and trying to break Durandal's arm off as he lunges for the ropes. Stevens declares, "It looks like Durandal's starting to get what he deserves! I don't know if he thinks he's some kind of dandy cruiserweight bully or what, but Chris Raynor is showing him what the SWF is all about!" Riley mutters, "What a damn shill" as Durandal stretches for the ropes again, this time grabbing the bottom rope. He looks painfully up at Sexton Hardcastle, who administers a standard four-count to Raynor.

 

ONE!

 

Nothing.

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Still no motion from Raynor! Hardcastle, who as a wreslter could suck the rust off a Buick and is even worse as an official, forcefully shoves Raynor backwards, failing to notice that in doing so he essentially helps him yank Durandal's arm out of the socket. Durandal yowls out loud and pulls his arm back in, cradling himself around it. Raynor takes advantage of the situationby charging in and slamming him in the shoulder with a vicious big boot. Rather than take the continued abuse, the US Champion rolls out of the ring and takes a breather.

 

Chris Raynor stays in the ring, playing to the crowd as Durandal walks around the outside. Hardcastle counts, but not with any degree of rhythm or consistency. Finally, around "EIGHT! Er... yeah," the Neglected Sword rolls back into the ring. Raynor spins around, making sure Durandal won't have the chance to ambush him, and charges at him with a lariat. Not quite ready for it, the Clannie gets absolutely pasted by the clothesline and crashes to the mat. Fluidly, Raynor reaches down and grabs him by his tender left arm. With a quick jerk and twist, Raynor yanks Durandal to his feet and then whips him forcefully into the corner. The challenger then charges in, climbing up onto the turnbuckles and mounting his opponent for the classic "10-Count Punch Thingie That No One Ever Named!" According to Bobby Riley, anyway.

 

("Is that a technical term, Bobby?" "Yes, not that you'd know that, MARK.")

 

Raynor holds his hand up, playing to the crowd. He almost seems to muster energy from them, despite the fact that he's never once stood on the stage and yelled "OOGA BOOGA!" He swings his fist around above his head and then slams it down with hammer force... but doesn't connect with Durandal's head. Instead, Raynor doubles over, still on the turnbuckle, and nearly falls out of the ring. Stumbling, he can't seem to keep his balance, and Durandal carelessly shoves him off the ropes and onto the mat, where Raynor stays curled up, and the source of his pain is revealed...

 

"What a move!" Bobby Riley sits at the table, marking out for Durandal. "I have NEVER in my LIFE seen a Galatea Special executed with such timing and precision!"

 

"All he did was hit him in the testicles. That's hardly interesting or technical. In fact, it's unethical."

 

"Oh, so now you're saying Durandal's trying to cop a feel? Jesus, Mark, I thought we dealt with this earlier."

 

Durandal walks out of the corner, stepping harder with each stride, and as he nears Raynor, glides up onto his toes and drops a diving headbutt into his opponent's stomach! Durandal covers Raynor for

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

TH- NO! Raynor kicks out, despite being the victim of severely unethical treatment of the testicles! When Chris rolls to his stomach, Durandal locks his hands around his waist and pulls him to his feet, looking for another German suplex like the one that scrambled Raynor's brains at the beginning of the match. Knowing what's coming, Raynor lunges forward and grabs the top rope. Out of frustration and hoping to get Raynor to release his grip, Durandal stiffs him with a palm strike to the back of the head. The shotei, though, does more harm than good, as it sends Raynor careening over the top rope and to the outside. Despite the fact that he could leave his opponent on the outside for a possible win by countout, Durandal grabs the top rope and slingshots himself over, then somersaults in the air and lands with a senton on Raynor's body. Raynor, the wind knocked out of him, tries desperately to get his stamina back, but before he can, Durandal yanks him to his feet and nails him with a crisp slap across the face. He grins and holds Raynor's head up by the hair, mugging for the camera like a witch doctor holding a shrunken head.

 

"What a fool!" Stevens is incensed, not in the least because he's seeing his stablemate disgraced. "Why... I hope Raynor can..."

 

"You're just saying that because you're a Carnie," intones Riley smugly as Stevens simmers.

 

Durandal smirks at the camera for a few more seconds... evidently, a few seconds too long, since before he knows what's happening, Chris Raynor has gotten to his feet and nailed him with a pair of solid right hands. He spins Durandal around so that they're face to face on the outside, then crouches down and with a burst of speed spears the US Champion into the cornerpost! Durandal staggers forward, practically falling face-first onto the floor, only to have Raynor catch him and throw him back into the ring.

 

Raynor follows Durandal in, then moves him into the center and boots him several times to keep him immobile. With his opponent in the center, Raynor drags his battered and bruised body to the corner and climbs to the top turnbuckle. A wave of cheers echoes through the crowd as they see their hero mounting the top rope, then leaping off. In the air, he cocks his elbow and then crashes to the mat, slamming the steely point of his elbow and all 250 pounds onto Durandal's body! The fans burst into a "RAYNOR! RAYNOR!" chant almost immediately as he rolls on top of Durandal and Hardcastle counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!!!!!! Hardcastle waves it off, holding up two fingers and pointing to Durandal's shoulder!

 

"He got the shoulder up! HE GOT THE SHOULDER UP!" Riley is absolutely ecstatic. "THIS ONE'S NOT OVER YET!"

 

"It should have been, Bobby. Chris Raynor's going to put Durandal away tonight, and he's going to go home with that US Title... and that, my friends, is a damn promise."

 

Raynor grabs Durandal by the hair and lifts him to his feet. The Carnie smiles at Durandal evilly, then hauls off and slaps him across the face, hard. He stares at the red handprint on the Clannie's face, listening to the fans cheer as Raynor returns the disrespect paid to him throughout the match by the rookie. Thinking about the entire match, with fire in his eyes, Raynor raises his hand and slaps Durandal again, hard. The loud "SMACK!!!!!!" echoes through the arena, and after a moment of silence, the fans burst into appreciative cheers.

 

"You know, Mark, those slaps aren't doing much damage."

 

"Bobby, you're missing the point. They aren't there to inflict damage. No, Bobby, Chris Raynor's slapping Durandal as a way to get him back for all the disrespect he's been paid. Chris Raynor's getting REVENGE."

 

With that, Raynor spins Durandal around. The fans know what's coming, and they stay on their feet. Despite Raynor's fatigue, he's going to go all the way and give them a beautiful finish to the match. He ducks down and puts his head between Durandal's legs, then lifts him up for an Electric Chair suplex. He stands up, hoisting the US Champion skyward... only to have the champ fall backwards and literally roll down Raynor's back! He completes his backward roll, landing on his feet behind Raynor, and then spins around. Completing a full turn, he nails Raynor in the back of the head with an unbelievably stiff...

 

"ROARING SHOTEI! ROARING SHOTEI! TAKE THAT!"

 

"Well, definitely an interesting counter... but can he...."

 

Before Mark Stevens can finish his sentence, Durandal steps in and tucks his head under Raynor's arm. He locks his hands around Raynor's waist, then arches his back and pops his hips. With a loud kiai, Durandal slams Raynor into the mat, spiking him on the back of his neck and sending a resounding "THUD!" echoing through the arena.

 

"He hit another one! Another back suplex!!!!! Backdrop driver! BACKDROP DRIVAHHHHHHHHHHH!" Riley practically creams himself when he sees Durandal hit another suplex from behind. Raynor, meanwhile, doesn't look to be in any condition for that.

 

Durandal holds his neck bridge, keeping Raynor stuck on his back for

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

Durandal releases the pin, shoving Raynor arrogantly off to the side. Hardcastle hands him the US Title belt and raises his arm as Funyon's voice rings out through the arena. "Your winner, and STILL SWF United States Champion.... DURANDAL!" Durandal takes the belt, then struts over to Raynor's body. With a look of utter and total disdain, he prods the body with his boot, and then walks away looking satisfied when Raynor doesn't move. With that, he takes his Clan robe out of the corner and walks self-assuredly up the ramp.

[Guest Muzz]

Bad luck about the loss, it was a great match indeed. I hope there's a rematch at the Pay Per View, yo.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Damn, that musta been a close one. You both did some spiff-ass work. Methinks that I'm gonna agree with the masses here and say that PPV is the place to be.