Post by Rose on Aug 24, 2008 21:07:53 GMT
MED: So welcome to the Heart of the Sun, [that sounded so much cooler in my head ¬_¬] for this the inaugural broadcast of NOVA Fusion. If you're reading this, then you've evidently either missed it and want a recap, or decided you want someone else to give you your opinions. Luckily on both counts, you have us; Mark E. Dangerously, Dan Dare and Chris Pain, the third of which is on a quest to find the Skrull Throne World this week, which apparently is located somewhere near Leeds, where they might be having a festival, but hopefully, he's just getting hot pokers inse-
[DD: Get on with it, you Skrull.]
MED: So without further ado, the NOVAppreciation Society [another one which sounded so much cooler in my head,] Presents NOVA Fusion¬!!!
Shaun Wilson vs. Deathcrush
MED: This match can be summed up with one acronym, one symbol, and one name, all in caps for emphasis: "LOL@DEATHCRUSH." You'd think a man who was basically pure Metal in human form would be less lame, but there we go. As a match, it remained competitive for all of about 3 femto-seconds from the bell ringing. Man, Jobber squashes are so 1980's. I dunno about "coolness" and "swagger" but NOVA did get a load of head-drops from Shaun Wilson, [considering how short the match was, anyway] leading me to believe that Deathcrush's neck is Metal, even if the rest of him is made of Pansy. It only takes the Imperial Shogun of Sexy, two Wilson Drivers, and the Clothesline from Houstonand a Partridge in a Pear Tree to realise his mistake, and go to work on his leg, and that as they say, is that. Tap Now, Cry Later, and Deathcrush is seriously considering both. Fortunately for my faith in humanity, he's too metal to cry, but that might be because tap is instantaneous.
Winner: Shaun Wilson via submission.
Richard Rose vs. Steffan Huggett
DD: Richard Rose makes his way to ringside accompanied by Ruby Grey's ass. Huggett and Rose begin to battle as the match begins, but I'm too busy watching Ruby and pondering the Ultimate Question of the Infinte Cosmos - Why isn't my dick between Ruby's tits? Meanwhile back inside the ring, Rose has been doing his best Shaun Wilson impression by dropping Steffan on his head a few times, and he's doing it with a smile. Ruby is wearing a black sundress and red heels. I wish she was my girlfriend. I think I'd like that. Perhaps I should send her some flowers. Bet she likes Roses. Ha! Geddit? I am a (t)wit. She slams the apron a few times, yelling out instructions for Rose. I wonder if she charges for that stuff? Rose locks in the Stigmata on Huggett and gets and insta-tap which makes Ruby hop up and down with praise, but unfortunantly means she and Rose have to leave ringside. Damn you Rose.
Winner: Richard Rose via submission.
hide Kitazawa vs. Nightmare
DD: Nightmare comes out first and to be fair, is looking good for a man who's retired more times than Hulk Hogan. The crowd also give him an insane pop. hide Kitazawa is out next, accompanied by Pata. The bell rings and I can see Sonatine's hard on as the two trade strikes, with hide getting the advantage first. Nightmare is backed up into the corner and with a cry of "Soh Cah Toa. Bitches!!", hide decides now is the perfect time for a Maths lesson and teaches Nightmare (in detail) about the study of triangles. Sine and Cosine are taught easy enough, but when it comes to Tangent, it appears Nightmare isn't listening as he avoids the Bionic Elbow, picks up hide and throws him across the ring, thus ending school for the moment.
Nightmare follows hide, teaching a lesson of his own in striking. Both men should get together and compare notes, we could have an MMA renaissance. Nightmare drives a running knee to hide who is seated in the corner but only gets a two count. The battle continues in Nightmare's favour for most of the remainder of the match, but he cannot gain a pinfall over hide. Eventually Nightmare picks up a chair that was seated in the corner of the ring (a gift from a bored Sonatine) and attempts to take hide's head off, only when bone meets steel, it's not hide's skull as anticipated -- it's his fist, driving the steel chair into Nightmare's face. A similar pattern follows, with Sonatine nearly creaming himself, until M and Sanderson Reed appear to overrule him, spouting some shit about the integrity of NOVA.
Winner: No Contest. ¬_¬
Mark Renner vs. Dragon Slayer
DD: Mark Renner made his way out to ringside. Instead of Dragon Slayer, Triple J's music hits and we're treated to this lovely promo that I cannot be arsed to recap, so I'll show you the transcript I got in my inbox.
And with that, Triple J climbed down from his throne, slid into the ring and beat the living shit out Mark Renner with his shovel, before carrying Renner's body backstage. Closer examination of the tapes reveal J mouthing the words "I'm gonna bury this fucker behind the garage." Oh dear, we have a maniac as our champion.
Winner: Triple J it seems.
TrembleKing Yori vs. Jose
MED: Well that was real fucking mature, 3J. Seriously, who books this shit? Anyway; we're moments away from naming his next challenger, and it's either gonna be a Goff or an Opera Singer. I guess Juh-Juh-Jay was right about that Stupid Water. Not that I'm complaining, because that Yori guy *can* sing. The match went at a blinding pace from beginning to end, and was mostly pretty competitive, given the fact that only one seems to have an actual background in combat sports. Jose's best chance came when he blocked a spear-tackle type of move, and hit a DDT with a Choke on the end of it, which Ace Ryder valiantly managed to give the name of with a straight face. Alas, with me there is no such luck. Maybe it's because he's getting paid, and I'm just some twat with a keyboard. This however slightly disrupts around three hairs on Yori's head, which he did not take very kindly to; and from his spot on the apron [waiting for another of his strangely named moves, this time, a springboard knee;] Jose just laughs at his attempts to restore it. Yori has the Last Laugh, when his hip/ass connects with Jose's face, by way of counter. Jose is not the only person surprised by the three count that followed; Yori was ecstatic, and even took the time to share with us a song.
¬_¬
Winner: TrembleKing Yori by Pinfall
TV Title: Jay Bain [=0=] vs. Jonathon Quinn
MED: We come back from commercial with a nice slice of Southern Fried Slide Guitar. This the TV Title theme? If so, it's pretty bitchin'. Ace Ryder - who's in the middle of the ring - doesn't seem to agree. In fact, it seems to confuse him. Still a sweet tune though. Anyhow, he blags our collective heads with a short speech about how awesome this maiden NOVA Fusion Main Event is going to be, and what an honour it is for the Title and whatever else. I sort of skip this bit, because I want some coffee, but when I get back we have Jonathon Quinn's snazzy-ass theme tune, which I'm pretty sure was used as the House opening, but still. After that, Jay Bain celebrates his appearance with an attempted demolition job of the arena, and I wish I had pyro like that for my entrance, but then I don't even have an entrance.
[DD: Get on with it, you Skrull.]
MED: Yeah, right, Match. The bell rings, and the two prettiest pretty boys in NOVA show us that they're not just an attempt to get the girls interested in NOVA, and that they can actually wrestle. Jay Bain in particular reminding me that he has an amateur wrestling background, which until now was something I'd dismissed as something that I heard in a dream. Quinn's no slouch either, so we're left with a true exhibition of technical skill, although the opening exchanges just prove that they're evenly matched. Bain is rather impressed and offers a handshake, which is smugly brushed aside by Quinn; and when they tie up again, it's a little less civil. Rope-breaks start coming slower, and there's more use of the point of the elbow for leverage. There's a nice sense of something a little more sinister brewing.
That something comes soon enough, in the form of the old favourite "Synchronised Dropkick" spot, although in a modern twist, as Jay Bain pauses to soak in the respectful applause, Quinn nails him on his nose with a flying Sole Kick. Ace Ryder, that lovably innocent face commentator is mortified and has to be reminded that NOVA isn't a Tea Party [unless it was the kind of Tea Party they had in Boston that one time;] and that they're here to pummell each other; which, thankfully for us, Jonathon Quinn is now doing, pausing only to readjust his hair, while he has a Sharpshooter applied. Now *that's* vanity, and he's probably lucky Bain can't see him. Of course, somehow, Bain does get wind of this, and the anger steps up a gear, and where once they were exchanging wristlocks, now we've moved onto slaps and punches.
This is the good stuff. Pro Wrestling is great because of Blood and Hatred, and while there isn't much of the former right now, there's a ton of the latter; and it really favours the “heel.” Well, Quinn isn't a true heel like say that chimp on a palanquin earlier, but in this case he is. Anyhow, anarchy follows, set to the tune of that slide guitar again. The “666” puts Bain down, and Quinn moves in for the kill, or up, as the case is when your finisher is a Shooting Star Press [in this case dubbed To Hades and Back] although when he gets to the top rope, something strange catches his eye: a man, in suit playing solitaire on the ring-apron. How long has he been there? And slightly more importantly, who the fuck is he? Quinn getting a face-full of bright yellow Poison Mist. According to Oroku Higurashi's old profile, Yellow Paralyses, although from Quinn's writhing, I'd have to say that this doesn't. Anyhow, Bain recovers just enough of his senses to capitalise with the Offcore, but not see that mist, as the mysterious music gets to the first line of singing: “In My Time... Of Dyin'” Aww shit. Billy Fuckin' Walker. What the fuck? Who the fuck books this shit? Quinn is out for the count, and Huachuca City strikes again. Led Zep makes way for 10 Years, and as the purveyor of the Blond [!] Mist smirks his way to the back, Jay Bain's joy is somewhat hollow.
Winner, and STILL NOVA TV CHAMPION: 100%GJay Bain!!!
MED: Well, Constant Reader, that was that. A new #1 Contender was named, a Champion retained under dubious circumstances, and Jobbers were squashed. Not sure what was going on in the Dragon Slayer/Mark Renner match, but then I hadn't heard a peep out of either all week, so I really didn't know what I was expecting. Early reports from the show are saying that Kitazawa might have injured his hand, and that Shaun Wilson might be getting an actual match next week...
Damn, I really need to think of a catchy sign-off phrase.
[DD: Get on with it, you Skrull.]
MED: So without further ado, the NOVAppreciation Society [another one which sounded so much cooler in my head,] Presents NOVA Fusion¬!!!
=======================
NOVA Fusion
24.08.08
The Pyramid
=======================
NOVA Fusion
24.08.08
The Pyramid
=======================
Shaun Wilson vs. Deathcrush
MED: This match can be summed up with one acronym, one symbol, and one name, all in caps for emphasis: "LOL@DEATHCRUSH." You'd think a man who was basically pure Metal in human form would be less lame, but there we go. As a match, it remained competitive for all of about 3 femto-seconds from the bell ringing. Man, Jobber squashes are so 1980's. I dunno about "coolness" and "swagger" but NOVA did get a load of head-drops from Shaun Wilson, [considering how short the match was, anyway] leading me to believe that Deathcrush's neck is Metal, even if the rest of him is made of Pansy. It only takes the Imperial Shogun of Sexy, two Wilson Drivers, and the Clothesline from Houston
Winner: Shaun Wilson via submission.
Richard Rose vs. Steffan Huggett
DD: Richard Rose makes his way to ringside accompanied by Ruby Grey's ass. Huggett and Rose begin to battle as the match begins, but I'm too busy watching Ruby and pondering the Ultimate Question of the Infinte Cosmos - Why isn't my dick between Ruby's tits? Meanwhile back inside the ring, Rose has been doing his best Shaun Wilson impression by dropping Steffan on his head a few times, and he's doing it with a smile. Ruby is wearing a black sundress and red heels. I wish she was my girlfriend. I think I'd like that. Perhaps I should send her some flowers. Bet she likes Roses. Ha! Geddit? I am a (t)wit. She slams the apron a few times, yelling out instructions for Rose. I wonder if she charges for that stuff? Rose locks in the Stigmata on Huggett and gets and insta-tap which makes Ruby hop up and down with praise, but unfortunantly means she and Rose have to leave ringside. Damn you Rose.
Winner: Richard Rose via submission.
hide Kitazawa vs. Nightmare
DD: Nightmare comes out first and to be fair, is looking good for a man who's retired more times than Hulk Hogan. The crowd also give him an insane pop. hide Kitazawa is out next, accompanied by Pata. The bell rings and I can see Sonatine's hard on as the two trade strikes, with hide getting the advantage first. Nightmare is backed up into the corner and with a cry of "Soh Cah Toa. Bitches!!", hide decides now is the perfect time for a Maths lesson and teaches Nightmare (in detail) about the study of triangles. Sine and Cosine are taught easy enough, but when it comes to Tangent, it appears Nightmare isn't listening as he avoids the Bionic Elbow, picks up hide and throws him across the ring, thus ending school for the moment.
Nightmare follows hide, teaching a lesson of his own in striking. Both men should get together and compare notes, we could have an MMA renaissance. Nightmare drives a running knee to hide who is seated in the corner but only gets a two count. The battle continues in Nightmare's favour for most of the remainder of the match, but he cannot gain a pinfall over hide. Eventually Nightmare picks up a chair that was seated in the corner of the ring (a gift from a bored Sonatine) and attempts to take hide's head off, only when bone meets steel, it's not hide's skull as anticipated -- it's his fist, driving the steel chair into Nightmare's face. A similar pattern follows, with Sonatine nearly creaming himself, until M and Sanderson Reed appear to overrule him, spouting some shit about the integrity of NOVA.
Winner: No Contest. ¬_¬
Mark Renner vs. Dragon Slayer
DD: Mark Renner made his way out to ringside. Instead of Dragon Slayer, Triple J's music hits and we're treated to this lovely promo that I cannot be arsed to recap, so I'll show you the transcript I got in my inbox.
Mad Sin's "Speak No Evil" echoes throughout the arena, echoing the arrival of NOVA's first Trans-Atlantic Champion, Triple J. As the curtain comes back, though, we can see that this is no normal entrance...
J is sat in a throne, which is being carried by eight tall, muscular men, each dressed in a suit. The champion sits high above the front row, a beer in one hand, the belt over his shoulder and a smoke dangling from his lips. He is frankly, as happy as a pig in shit. And where is Brandi in all this, I here you ask? Why, she's waking along side the men, in a black PVC bikini, the leash in J's right hand connected to the dog collar around her neck.
This is what happens when you give trash power.
Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, presenti-
3J: They know who the fuck I am.
Jay clears his throat loudly, spitting off the edge of his platform into the crowd below him.
3J: So, I've been told to come out here and make my first address to my new minions, to come out and here and survey my kingdom. Kinda like Clinton, except I'm not covered in my own sperm...
J winks at Brandi:
3J: She's careful not to waste a drop. But, I digress. Let's have a look at the ingrates and halfwits that have come on down to the wrasslin' show tonight...
Jay takes a moment to peer around, the sneer never faltering from his face.
3J: Jesus, looks like someone dropped a fuckin' bomb full of ugly right in the middle of this town, then tried to put out the fire with stupid water. Look at you all, letchin' at my woman, wishin' ya'll were me. WELL IT AIN'T GON' HAPPEN, YA HEAR!? Triple J is your Trans-Atlantic Champion and he's gonna fuckin' stay your Trans-Atlantic Champion for a long fuckin' time. I don't give a fuck about that Opera singin' fuckin' joke, that Edward Scissorhands whatever-the-fuck-he-thinks-he-is, 100% Gay Bain, that Slitty eyed little bastard, or any of the other little bitches that mince around the backstage. I'm the fuckin' boss, and all of you better get used to it!
Another quick look of disdain at the audience...
J is sat in a throne, which is being carried by eight tall, muscular men, each dressed in a suit. The champion sits high above the front row, a beer in one hand, the belt over his shoulder and a smoke dangling from his lips. He is frankly, as happy as a pig in shit. And where is Brandi in all this, I here you ask? Why, she's waking along side the men, in a black PVC bikini, the leash in J's right hand connected to the dog collar around her neck.
This is what happens when you give trash power.
Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, presenti-
3J: They know who the fuck I am.
Jay clears his throat loudly, spitting off the edge of his platform into the crowd below him.
3J: So, I've been told to come out here and make my first address to my new minions, to come out and here and survey my kingdom. Kinda like Clinton, except I'm not covered in my own sperm...
J winks at Brandi:
3J: She's careful not to waste a drop. But, I digress. Let's have a look at the ingrates and halfwits that have come on down to the wrasslin' show tonight...
Jay takes a moment to peer around, the sneer never faltering from his face.
3J: Jesus, looks like someone dropped a fuckin' bomb full of ugly right in the middle of this town, then tried to put out the fire with stupid water. Look at you all, letchin' at my woman, wishin' ya'll were me. WELL IT AIN'T GON' HAPPEN, YA HEAR!? Triple J is your Trans-Atlantic Champion and he's gonna fuckin' stay your Trans-Atlantic Champion for a long fuckin' time. I don't give a fuck about that Opera singin' fuckin' joke, that Edward Scissorhands whatever-the-fuck-he-thinks-he-is, 100% Gay Bain, that Slitty eyed little bastard, or any of the other little bitches that mince around the backstage. I'm the fuckin' boss, and all of you better get used to it!
Another quick look of disdain at the audience...
And with that, Triple J climbed down from his throne, slid into the ring and beat the living shit out Mark Renner with his shovel, before carrying Renner's body backstage. Closer examination of the tapes reveal J mouthing the words "I'm gonna bury this fucker behind the garage." Oh dear, we have a maniac as our champion.
Winner: Triple J it seems.
TrembleKing Yori vs. Jose
MED: Well that was real fucking mature, 3J. Seriously, who books this shit? Anyway; we're moments away from naming his next challenger, and it's either gonna be a Goff or an Opera Singer. I guess Juh-Juh-Jay was right about that Stupid Water. Not that I'm complaining, because that Yori guy *can* sing. The match went at a blinding pace from beginning to end, and was mostly pretty competitive, given the fact that only one seems to have an actual background in combat sports. Jose's best chance came when he blocked a spear-tackle type of move, and hit a DDT with a Choke on the end of it, which Ace Ryder valiantly managed to give the name of with a straight face. Alas, with me there is no such luck. Maybe it's because he's getting paid, and I'm just some twat with a keyboard. This however slightly disrupts around three hairs on Yori's head, which he did not take very kindly to; and from his spot on the apron [waiting for another of his strangely named moves, this time, a springboard knee;] Jose just laughs at his attempts to restore it. Yori has the Last Laugh, when his hip/ass connects with Jose's face, by way of counter. Jose is not the only person surprised by the three count that followed; Yori was ecstatic, and even took the time to share with us a song.
¬_¬
Winner: TrembleKing Yori by Pinfall
TV Title: Jay Bain [=0=] vs. Jonathon Quinn
MED: We come back from commercial with a nice slice of Southern Fried Slide Guitar. This the TV Title theme? If so, it's pretty bitchin'. Ace Ryder - who's in the middle of the ring - doesn't seem to agree. In fact, it seems to confuse him. Still a sweet tune though. Anyhow, he blags our collective heads with a short speech about how awesome this maiden NOVA Fusion Main Event is going to be, and what an honour it is for the Title and whatever else. I sort of skip this bit, because I want some coffee, but when I get back we have Jonathon Quinn's snazzy-ass theme tune, which I'm pretty sure was used as the House opening, but still. After that, Jay Bain celebrates his appearance with an attempted demolition job of the arena, and I wish I had pyro like that for my entrance, but then I don't even have an entrance.
[DD: Get on with it, you Skrull.]
MED: Yeah, right, Match. The bell rings, and the two prettiest pretty boys in NOVA show us that they're not just an attempt to get the girls interested in NOVA, and that they can actually wrestle. Jay Bain in particular reminding me that he has an amateur wrestling background, which until now was something I'd dismissed as something that I heard in a dream. Quinn's no slouch either, so we're left with a true exhibition of technical skill, although the opening exchanges just prove that they're evenly matched. Bain is rather impressed and offers a handshake, which is smugly brushed aside by Quinn; and when they tie up again, it's a little less civil. Rope-breaks start coming slower, and there's more use of the point of the elbow for leverage. There's a nice sense of something a little more sinister brewing.
That something comes soon enough, in the form of the old favourite "Synchronised Dropkick" spot, although in a modern twist, as Jay Bain pauses to soak in the respectful applause, Quinn nails him on his nose with a flying Sole Kick. Ace Ryder, that lovably innocent face commentator is mortified and has to be reminded that NOVA isn't a Tea Party [unless it was the kind of Tea Party they had in Boston that one time;] and that they're here to pummell each other; which, thankfully for us, Jonathon Quinn is now doing, pausing only to readjust his hair, while he has a Sharpshooter applied. Now *that's* vanity, and he's probably lucky Bain can't see him. Of course, somehow, Bain does get wind of this, and the anger steps up a gear, and where once they were exchanging wristlocks, now we've moved onto slaps and punches.
This is the good stuff. Pro Wrestling is great because of Blood and Hatred, and while there isn't much of the former right now, there's a ton of the latter; and it really favours the “heel.” Well, Quinn isn't a true heel like say that chimp on a palanquin earlier, but in this case he is. Anyhow, anarchy follows, set to the tune of that slide guitar again. The “666” puts Bain down, and Quinn moves in for the kill, or up, as the case is when your finisher is a Shooting Star Press [in this case dubbed To Hades and Back] although when he gets to the top rope, something strange catches his eye: a man, in suit playing solitaire on the ring-apron. How long has he been there? And slightly more importantly, who the fuck is he? Quinn getting a face-full of bright yellow Poison Mist. According to Oroku Higurashi's old profile, Yellow Paralyses, although from Quinn's writhing, I'd have to say that this doesn't. Anyhow, Bain recovers just enough of his senses to capitalise with the Offcore, but not see that mist, as the mysterious music gets to the first line of singing: “In My Time... Of Dyin'” Aww shit. Billy Fuckin' Walker. What the fuck? Who the fuck books this shit? Quinn is out for the count, and Huachuca City strikes again. Led Zep makes way for 10 Years, and as the purveyor of the Blond [!] Mist smirks his way to the back, Jay Bain's joy is somewhat hollow.
Winner, and STILL NOVA TV CHAMPION: 100%
=======================
FIN
=======================
FIN
=======================
MED: Well, Constant Reader, that was that. A new #1 Contender was named, a Champion retained under dubious circumstances, and Jobbers were squashed. Not sure what was going on in the Dragon Slayer/Mark Renner match, but then I hadn't heard a peep out of either all week, so I really didn't know what I was expecting. Early reports from the show are saying that Kitazawa might have injured his hand, and that Shaun Wilson might be getting an actual match next week...
Damn, I really need to think of a catchy sign-off phrase.