“Shut the fuck up! This is where you all are quiet as fuck, and we talk, you fuck heads!”
The crowd stilled and got into her. They went from cheering loudly, to half-cheering and half-boos.
As they gradually stilled, Tricia sternly commanded the audience, “Now, as we were about to say, in a matter of moments, you will all see the second Outlaw Qualifier. We, the family who hates together, we will stay here at ringside and we will be as violent and angry as we want. Because it's a triple threat, we really can do what the fuck we ever want! I mean think about it-- Fight Union might've signed only Fa originally, but they ended up with all of us to deal with. We're a pack! A coven! A goddamned team--we are devils! Don't ever think we aren't!”
Tricia then walked up to the closest camera she could, starting to brag again.
“I mean, think about it. I ran a bitch out of a company because I almost killed her, not giving her the time of day. So, FM... Suck my dick, cunt! Now, with the next match coming up, Fa, got anything to say?
Mikhail took the microphone as the crowd raised their voices with booing, but it looked like Mikhail was inspired by some overseas wrestler, his eyes mysteriously lighting up as he began to speak.
“Egal was heute Abend passiert, ich, Mikhail Reinhardt, werde Outlaw Champion sein. Und egal ob Bronson oder Dahl denken, dass sie mich schlagen können. 4 auf 2 Hündinnen. Und als die umwerfende Mutter verdammt Teufel sage ich, BRONSON, DAHL, GEBEN SIE GERADE AUF. Und Bronson, Dahl, komm hier vorbei!”
<No matter what happens tonight, I, Mikhail Reinhardt, will be Outlaw Champion. No matter what--even if Bronson or Dahl think they can beat me. 4 on 2 bitches. And as the presently dealing motherfucking Devil, I say, BRONSON, DAHL, JUST GIVE UP. Bronson, Dahl-- COME ON OVER HERE!>
The bell is ignored as Bronson pushes the referee out of the way and charges right over to Dahl, flattening him with his patented ‘Meat Cleaver’ knockout forearm. Not only does the forearm put Dahl’s lights out, but it also busts him open. Reinhardt stands back, watching the exchange with a deranged smirk on his face. Bronson grabs Dahl by the throat and starts choking him as the ref tries to call for Bronson to knock it off. Bronson’s either deaf, or he doesn’t care-- likely the latter--and he doesn’t obey the ref’s commands.
The crowd is going ape-shit, did we mention that?
Reinhardt comes up from behind, but somehow Bronson knows he’s there, so he captures Dahl and rips him over his head with an exploder suplex, straight into Reinhardt. Reinhardt collapses under the weight of Dahl, as Bronson screams out a roar reminiscent of a lion fused with a bear, fused with something out of a horror movie. Bronson leaves the ring and doesn’t even have to look for a weapon, as he’s immediately handed a barb-wire wrapped bat. He checks the weight of the bat and takes a few practice swings before heading back towards the ring.
Meanwhile, Reinhardt has Dahl in a rear naked choke and the ref is checking the hold. Dahl is nearly blue-lipping it as Bronson rolls back into the ring. Bronson swings twice. One swing rips a gash in Dahl’s hairline and the second sinks barbed wire right into Reinhardt’s elbow. Reinhardt has no choice but to release the hold as Bronson swings once more, just narrowly missing Reinhardt as he dodges.
Dahl rolls over in a heap as blood begins to pool. Reinhardt comes up to meet Bronson. Bronson takes another swing with the bat, but this time, Reinhardt catches the barbed wire and despite the fact that that barbs are sinking into his palms, Reinhardt just laughs maniacally. Bronson laughs back at him, and the two just mysteriously share a laugh for a moment. It ends rather abruptly when the bat is thrown to the wayside and the two start pounding on each other, roaring like angry bears.
Dahl, meanwhile, looks like he might be dead.
The crowd is really, really, into it.
There’s blood, sweat, and a lot of cussing coming from the general vicinity of the brawl between Reinhardt and Bronson. Dahl twitches a little bit, but he’s not making a move. With the help of an eye-gouge, Reinhardt is able to take control of Bronson and lands his ‘Concussion’ roundhouse kick to Bronson, putting Bronson down to one knee, leaning against the ropes. Reinhardt escapes the ring! While looking for a weapon, he’s handed a large glass bottle, formerly once-full of aged whiskey, and he heads back into the ring. Surprisingly, Dahl is back to his feet, but he is wearing a shining bloody mask. Bronson is back up too. Reinhardt jumps abruptly into the fray, taking a wild swing at Bronson with the glass bottle--but Bronson ducks! Instead, the bottle crashes right into Dahl’s skull--sending him to the ropes, and over and out of the ring!
Bronson tackles Reinhardt to the mat and the broken bottle goes flying. The two swing wildly. The savage fisticuffs doesn’t end until Reinhardt reaches out for the broken bottle and wields it like a knife, trying to slash Bronson’s throat. Bronson catches Reinhardt’s wrist and forces the bottle back towards Reinhardt’s face. The broken edge of the bottle is only an inch away from Reinhardt’s exposed eyeball before Reinhardt powers back, pushing the bottle away.
“I’ll skull-fuck you with this fucking bottle, you tattooed fuck!” Bronson roars!
Reinhardt laughs, “Flachwichser!”
<A great word meaning “fuck-wit”. >
Finally, the bottle goes sideways as the two men slam their foreheads against each other’s, crushing the bottle between them. Bronson falls off of Reinhardt and the two are immediately back to their feet--now both are pumping blood everywhere.
Outside the ring, Dahl looks like he’s dead.
Bronson grabs Reinhardt and throws him out of the ring. Reinhardt hits the mat hard, but seems to like it. He comes right back up, as Bronson exits the ring right into a flying knee from Reinhardt. Bronson collapses against the ring apron as Reinhardt looks for another weapon. Reinhardt comes up with a cheesegrater and while it seems unremarkable, he shrugs and wields it as a weapon, stalking Bronson. Reinhardt falls upon Bronson and grinds the cheesegrater across Bronson’s forehead, not surprisingly, making grated cheese out of his skin. Bronson takes the pain with a steely grimace, and finally drives a low blow into Reinhardt’s junk, triumphantly standing up as Reinhardt crumbles to the mat.
Oh and yes, Dahl still looks dead.
As Bronson heads towards Dahl’s corpse, he snatches a drink out of one of the crowd-member’s hands and knocks it back. He takes the stemware glass and crushes it against Dahl’s head before he pulls him up and slings him back into the ring. Bronson follows him, grabbing that baseball bat as he enters. He takes two solid whacks at Dahl’s back slicing it open. Bronson is also making that spine specialist in the second row very happy over the prospect of the bill resulting from the upcoming surgery.
Reinhardt pulls himself up onto the ring apron and takes a swat to the head from the bat, for his trouble. Reinhardt flies off the ring apron and slams into the guard rail.
Bronson turns his attention back to Dahl.
“Now it’s time for this little pipsqueak to fucking die!” Bronson exclaims, pleasing the crowd.
He sets the bat on the ground very specifically before pulling Dahl to his feet. Bronson lets out another roar before planting Dahl skull-first into the barbed wire portion of the bat with the ‘Skull Fucker’ sit out piledriver!
Bronson doesn’t even bother hooking the leg as he goes for the pin.
“One! Two!”
Reinhardt comes from out of nowhere to break the pin, but he’s too late!
“Three!”
'Dot your