Freckles was on his game from the beginning, confusing Bena with random jumps, quick jabs, and timely insults. At one point, he called out El Mucho Bueno and said that his bodybuilder physique was just a show. Bena was in no mood to be told his pectorals weren’t impressive and lunged at his opponent. This was the first step of the “Viva la Raza” triple shank and Liddicoat knew his time was limited. Freckles countered with the “Tim Tam Slam”, which, depending when and how you say it, can represent a fighting move, a cookie, or simply a dirty phrase. In this case, it pertained to fighting and it was something to behold. Bena dropped to his knees begging for mercy, but Liddicoat wouldn’t hear it. He slammed down on Bena on watched as El Mucho Bueno writhed in pain. The fight was over and Freckles was on to the next fight.
TYSON WOODRUFF VS. WESTON POPE
Twilight.
A deserted alley in a remote Mongolian city.
Silence.
The Agent (Tyson Woodruff) had been here before. He had nothing to fear. He stood motionless as a dark silhouette emerged from behind a nearby fence and stepped towards him. Known to The Agent only as Raptor (Weston Pope), this unique foe had dark plans for The Agent that night. Unfortunately, Raptor underestimated The Agent’s training.
As Raptor lifted his arm to remove the hood veiling his face, The Agent acted. Assuming the arm lift to be the beginning of Raptor’s attack (and not caring if it really was), The Agent slipped a quick punch to the nerve cluster on the inside of the Raptor’s raised arm, startling him. Nanoseconds later, The Agent followed with a swift eye gouge, knocking Raptor slightly off balance. Needing to regroup, Raptor pulled the injured arm back towards his body. As that arm came back, The Agent grabbed the wrist to pull this arm towards him, and with amazing force slammed his forearm into Raptor’s held arm just above the elbow, shattering it. With his free inside hand, The Agent then delivered a crushing blow to Raptor’s windpipe, sliding effortlessly behind the Raptor’s now silent, suffering body. Another half second passed before The Agent stomped on the back of Raptor’s knee, driving him to the ground and destroying the knee in the process. But one step remained, and as Raptor struggled to make sense of the last four seconds, The Agent leaned in and with one effortless move, snapped Raptor’s neck and dropped him to the ground.
Twilight, one minute later. Silence still. A bum wanders into the alley to find Raptor’s body. No trace of The Agent. He already knows the location of his next foe.
ADAM WANKIER VS. DEREK MUAINA
Derek was no fool. He couldn’t let anyone who referred to himself as a wank defeat him. No, so play dirty he would. Having agreed to fight at dawn on the bridge connecting the Law School to the Wilkinson Center, Derek concocted a plan. He showed up at midnight the night before with 30 of his closest friends, eager to see where they might sabotage the bridge or hide weapons. As Derek, or Smooth Nitro as they called him, stood on the sidewalk examining the bridge supports, he heard the roar of a motorcycle engine behind him.
The Winning Wank gunned his Harley up the sidewalk towards Nitro. As he jumped from its path, Wank threw himself headfirst from the bike, connecting a wicked head butt to the center of Nitro’s right temple. As Nitro fell to the ground, blood gushing from the open wound, The Winning Wank used a Matrix-like body roll and flip to land on his feet. He bent down to interlock his hands around Nitro’s neck in a triangle choke hold.
“Any last words?” Nitro could muster none. “Just three for you then . . . who’s your daddy?” And The Winning Wank began to squeeze.
Moral of this story: you can’t out-dirty a guy named Wank. You try to pull some tricks at midnight, he’ll be there at 11, waiting.
Paul Rowley vs Mike Esselman
Unlike the battle between Mike Baer and Jim Fowler, there was no need for intervention in this fight. Neither fighter needed encouragement – they were both ready for a good battle. Esselman showed up to the fight with a costume that only he could assemble. His shirt simply stated “There is one intelligent Nascar Fan in the world… it’s me”. Even though this was a t-shirt, Mike also had on a tie (you’ve always got to be ready for business), making others doubt that the statement on his shirt was in fact true or not. Mike was bouncing off the walls with various rambled shouts that only he could understand. The crowd wondered how much caffeine this man had ingested before the battle… but they did not know – he hadn’t had any. His energy was simply unmatched and could not be contained. By the time Paul arrived to the match, Mike was sprinting in circles around the ring.
As Paul entered the ring, Mike began running circles around him. At one point in his ramblings he was heard to yell “I don’t need no stinkin’ wings to fly!!”. Suddenly he stopped in front of Paul and stared him in the eye. He had grabbed Paul’s finger and was smiling ever so slightly. “What is that?” asked Paul. “This is the dreaded Wuxi Finger Hold. SKADOOSH!” Mike tried to complete his move, but nothing happened. In all of his speed and might, Mike had miscalculated which finger to grab. His move was useless. Confused, Mike did the only thing he knew to do – he pulled down Paul’s pants. But this move only confused him more. Paul was wearing cut-off Jean shorts under his pants. He was a never-nude. With his secret out, Paul was enraged even more. “This is for all the never-nudes in the world!” He shouted. With that, he picked Mike up and shaped him into a ball. He had begun his cornballer move. “Scott!” He yelled. And Scott Maxfield emerged from the crowd with a vat of hot oil. Paul gently tossed Mike into the vat and the battle was over. Paul was victorious and Mike was happily taking a swim in his greasy bubble bath.