12.30.2004
THE SUPERDOME
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
10:53 PM CENTRAL STANDARD TIME
To the lucky sixty-four thousand fans who had managed procure tickets to Santa's Sack of Beatings, the show had been worth every penny.
The night had started off with a bang, as Brody Meyer had pulled off a stunning upset over Yoshi Kawazughi. The valiant Ryan Corey had bested hated BWA president Matt McClain in a two out of three falls match.
And who could ever forget the brutality that Ulfric and Preston Price had exhibited in their log cabin house of pain match?
Sure, there had been disappointments. Up and coming Rayven had bested longtime Louisiana State champion Wendy Briese in a ladder match, then watched as poor Wendy had been completely humiliated by Team Danger.
Then, in the stunner of the night, Eric Dane had used every dirty trick in the book to bring down the beloved Mike Bell, then gleefully announced Bell's involuntary addition to Team Danger's ranks.
Throw in some explosions, a couple betrayals, and one disgusting incident involving Daniel Pollaski and a jar of cat urine, and it had been an interesting night.
But now the main event was in full swing, and the crowd hadn't sat down all match, anxious to see who the new World Wrestling Alliance Heavyweight champion was to be.
And yes, there WOULD be a new champion.
After ten days of watching Kakuma desecrate the belt both men had held in such high regard, Terrence Thompson and Victor Mandrake had wasted no time in disposing of the heretic champion. Terrence had stood idly by as Mandrake hit his legendary Killing Fields, and pinned the.World Champion to eliminate him.
And to set up Twister vs. Diablo for the World Championship... just the way it was supposed to be all along.
And so the crowd had screamed their collective throats raw as Terrence and Victor struggled, the arena firmly behind the Twister, hoping he could bring down the enormous monster and end his reign of terror once and for all.
Right now, they stood to be pretty disappointed, considering that Mandrake had one of his hands wrapped around Twister's throat.
*WHAM!*
The crowd gave a collective groan, as the chokeslam echoed around the arena. Inside the ring, Terrence Thompson gasped for air as he clutched his throat. He had had Mandrake right where he wanted him, and somehow, the big bastard had weaseled out of it. And now he was in bad shape.
Very bad shape.
In truth, Terrence had been doing rather well all match, and he could tell that Mandrake was running out of steam. But so was he, and given that the Immortal One outweighed him by a good 200 pounds, his moves had far more devastating impacts, especially at this stage in the match.
Terrence felt himself being picked up off the mat, and found himself in a standing headscissors. His addled brain was starting to realize that he was in a bad situation, but for some reason, the rest of his body wasn't responding.
Suddenly, he found himself being flipped end over end, and the next thing he knew, he was atop Mandrakes 7'4 frame, hoisted in the air so he could see the entire arena. Oddly enough, he noticed a hotdog vendor pacing up and down the Superdome aisle, and thought about how good a couple of franks with mustard and relish would be right now...
And then he dimly realized he was going back down.
Uh oh...
The growd let out another groan as the powerbomb connected, and Terrence's neck and back exploded into pain.
Terrence blinked stupidly as Mandrake covered him, and dimly heard the referee's hand slap the mat for the first time. He was done. Too much pain, not enough energy... no way in hell he was going to be getting back up.
Ah well, it was a good effort. He'd probably get another chance at this in another nine months or so. Maybe things would go his way then.
As for now, all he wanted to do was go backstage, find Pollaski (what the fuck did he do to get himself banned from the Superdome anyways?), go home, and get some sleep. Its a shame the powerbomb hadn't knocked him out... he'd be asleep already.
Oh yeah, he'd need to grab Wendy, too.
The referee's hand hit a second time.
Holy shit... Wendy.
He remembered the last time he had seen her. She was a broken, humiliated mess, covered in dried soda pop from head to foot, tears running down her face. But even as much a wreck as she was, she had given him a good luck kiss...
Kick their asses, Terry. For me
Those were the words she had said to him. It had been a shock, given that Wendy's borderline puritanical ethics generally didn't allow her to swear. But she had... because she wanted him to win that bad.
Come to think of it... he kinda wanted to win too.
So why the hell was he lying here, being pinned, and the referee's hand coming down for a third time?
How the fuck was he going to face Wendy if he lost here? Hell, how the fuck was he going to face himself?
He had faced Victor Mandrake twice before, and both times, he had come up short. The first time, he had been blindsided by Matt McClain. The second time, he had passed out from blood loss before he could end it. There was no way he was going to fail a....
The referees hand slapped the mat a third time.
But Terrence's right shoulder was no longer touching it.
The crowd roared its approval at the kickout, and Mandrake burst into fury at the referee over the call.
Terrence laid on the mat, wondering how he had gathered the stregnth to do that.
The answer was there.
Anger.
Fury.
This was the bastard who had kidnapped his girlfriend and tortured her in a dungeon for two weeks. This was the bastard who had broken into his house in the middle of the night. This was the bastard who had shown up on his lawn with the severed head of a woman, and picked a fight.
Fuck it, this was the bastard he was winning the World Championship off of!
Mandrake, for his part, had stopped his threats to the referee, and turned his attention back to Terrence. He was being dragged up, and set up for another powerbomb.
Again, Terrence was hoisted in the air above Mandrake's head. Again, Terrence found himself looking over the crowd. But this time, his head was clear. This time only one thought had permeated his brain.
Fuck you, Victor Mandrake!
Terrence threw himself backwards, and, surprised, Mandrake let go of him. Desperately, he reached out, clasping his hands around the back of Diablo's neck, driving Victor's head down as he fell.
Terrence winced as he landed on his rump, but in front of him, Mandrake's skull plowed face first into the canvas, laid out by the X-factor facebuster.
It was the damned finest Head On Collision he had ever landed, and Mandrake was out cold. Terrence covered.
And prayed.
It had to be it. Mandrake was out cold.
One!
It better be it. The Sparkstarter hadnt worked. There was no way in hell he was going to lift Mandrake for the Last Lap, and, the way was feeling, the Black Flag might knock him out as well as Mandrake.
Two!
Please God, let this be it... he was out of ideas.
Please?
Three!
Holy shit... it was it.
Victor Mandrake was defeated.
And he, Terrence Thompson, was the new world champion
3.10.2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
7:27 PM EASTERN STANDARD TIME
"And THAT," Terrence Thompson proclaimed to his daughter, "is why your daddy is the MAN."
Seated next to him on the sofa, Wendy rolled her eyes, and flipped off the television. With her and Terrence's return to wrestling growing more and more imminent, the two had decided to show Theresa some of their old matches, hoping to explain to their daughter what was going on so she wouldn't freak out the first time mommy or daddy took a piledriver.
Theresa had reacted well, but Wendy still wasn't sure. Her parents had been Broadway actors, and they had always put their careers ahead of their daughter. No way was she going to jeopardize her daughter's upbringing like that. She had vowed that, regardless of what happened in the ring, she would always have time for her daughter outside of it.
But still, she worried about the psychological effect having a career where she fought for a living. Obviously, she knew that she wasn't the first wrestler to have a child, but the thought of what would happen if she or Terrence got injured, or worse, weighed heavily on her. She supposed that if she didn't worry about stuff like this, she'd be a rotten mother.
Other than Wendy's trepidation, the comeback had been going well. The two had found a gym to train, and a group of sparring partners who would remain discreet. Pollaski wanted the comeback to be a surprise, holding off their return for maximum impact. Wendy wasn't sure.she liked the secrecy aspect of it all, but, at the same time, it would be amazing to hear the gasps of astonishment as the WhirlyBirdz made their triumphant return.
"What are you thinking about?" Terrence interrupted her thoughts.
Wendy smiled at her husband. "Just the usual pre-comeback jitters, I guess."
Terrence nodded. "I've been thinking about it too. I mean, what if we fail? What if we suck?"
Wendy nodded. "But training is going well. Our chemistry is as good as its always been, and we're getting our techniques down."
Terrence nodded. Their training session today had been the best one yet. They had sparred against two three hundred pound brawlers, and had performed wonderfully. Terrence could swing with the best of 'em, and Wendy, with her "you can't hurt what you can't catch" style, had frustrated them endlessly with her darting kicks and quick springboard aerials. Not a day was going by when they didn't feel themselves improving.
"Besides," Wendy added, "watching these old tapes reminds me of what we used to do to win, and its brought back some fond memories."
Terrence nodded. The two sat in silence for a few seconds, before Terrence pointed at the now dark TV.
"That's gonna be me again." he declared.
"Pardon?" Wendy asked, bringing herself out of her own thoughts.
"World Champion," Terrence repeated, looking his wife dead in the eye. "It took me three years to get it last time. I'm not waiting that long again."
Wendy smiled reassuringly. "You won't have to, I'm sure. But I wouldn't mind a shot at the championship myself." She added.
"Well, either of us have got to be better than the past couple of champions. A washed out cokehead and a snake-dressing cultist? The only thing that could make it any worse is if they got a clown."
Wendy smiled grimly. Terrence hated clowns, and no one, not even her, knew why.
Terrence continued. "My first reign was only twenty-three days, and I lost it because I made a stupid career choice. But I don't care how many matches it takes. I don't care if I have to go through the rosters of all five regions, that world championship WILL be around my waist."
Wendy nodded absently. Only once had she been even a regional champion, and many people had never considered her world title material. She hsd flat out dominated the Cruiserweight ranks, bit against heavier (280+) opponents, she had struggled. She was hoping the new striking techniques she was learning would help her overcome her size disadvantage.
She'd have to... her beloved Cruiserweight title was long deactivated. Besides it would be awesome if she became the first female world champion to not require six people to help her win.
Both Birdz were interrupted by a knocking on the door. Terrence, shrugging at his wife, stood up, and walked into the entranceway.
"Hey Dan!" the Twister announced. "Come on in!"
Terrence led a shivering Pollaski into the room, where Theresa, who had been idly coloring since Terrence's match ended, gave a yelp of joy. Pollaski smiled at her, then at Wendy.
"How goes it, kids?"
"Fine!" laughed Terrence. Despite being three years younger than Terrence and one year younger than Wendy, Dan had always referred to the Birdz as kids. "When you gonna announce us to the world, because I think we're ready."
Pollaski smiled. "I'm not announcing anything. Actions speak louder than words, and I know exactly the action the three of us are going to take."
At this, Terrence and Wendy exchanged nervous, but excited glances. Terrence sat down on the couch, while Pollaski dropped into a recliner.
"So, did any of you see Defiance on Monday?"
"Tuesday. Monday was my birthday, so we DVR'd it. We saw it on the new TV Wendy got me." Terrence gestured to the massive plasma now hanging on the wall.
Pollaski whistled. "Bravo, Wendy..."
"And that was only the second best present she gave me. The best was later that night when she..."
"TERRY!"
Terrence shot a sheepish grin at his now red faced wife. "Sorry, hon"
"Well, anyways, did you see Eric Dane talking about the tag titles?"
Wendy nodded. "Yes, and I think its absolutely disgusting that he..."
Pollaski cut her off. "That's gonna be you guys."
Dead silence greeted this announcement. "What's going to be us?"
"You guys are going to Defiance to win the tag titles."
Both Birdz stared at Pollaski in slack jawed amazement.
Wendy was the first to find her voice. "I don't know, Dan... that seams a little-"
"-Suicidal" Terrence finished for her.
Pollaski shrugged. "But doable. Look, I know Defiance is a bunch of Eric Dane Kool-Aid drinkers. But they've got their own internal rivalries as well, and, well, Hydra is hardly popular. "
"That hardly helped the Untouchables." Terrence noted
"The Untouchables made the same mistake every other AW idiot has made. They went after everyone. We're going to be quick and surgical. Get in, win the belts, get out."
"Is that all?" Terrence replied with an eyeroll.
Wendy saw an entirely different problem. "Even if we get out of Defiance with the belts- and our lives, we won't be the champions. That's the Hardcore Icons."
Pollaski grinned. "And there's the beauty of it all. Once you have the belts, give them back to Valora and Umbrage... in exchange for a title shot."
"You want us to RANSOM the belts?" Wendy asked, appalled.
"Why not?" Pollaski asked, shrugging. He knew Wendy's overdeveloped sense of honor was going to come into play. "Those two aren't even 'hardcore' enough to even TRY to get their belts back!"
Wendy frowned. "Still, it just seems... unethical."
Pollaski rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth to argue, but Terrence cut him off.
"Wendy, look at it this way. If we return the belts to the Icons, we'll be doing them a favor. Isn't it only fair that we get a favor in return? And besides, we'll have done something they weren't even willing to attempt. If they snub us, they'll look like absolute cowards."
Wendy paused for a second, before breaking into a smile. "And either way, the belts will be revalued by being out of the filthy hands of Team Danger."
"Attagirl!" Terrence smirked, giving his wife a quick hug. "Now we just need to pull this off without dying."
"Look," Pollaski said. "You two worry about beating Greer and Lightning. I'll make sure you get in and out- alive."
Pollaski smiled to himself as Terrence and Wendy exchanged a quick kiss, then immediately set themselves to figuring out how to get scouting tapes on their first opponents.
He had done it... the Birdz we're coming back, and he was going to run with his old friends again. And if WhirlyBirdz got themselves a third tag team title run right off the bat, he was going to be proud of them.
As for himself...
Chance Wolfington couldn't recover those titles.
Brad Johnson couldn't recover those titles.
Jason Carmondy couldn't recover those titles.
Anthony Pallandino couldn't recover those titles.
Daniel Pollaski could... and more importantly WOULD recover those titles.
His stock was about to go way up.
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