PAXTON RAY VS. KENNY FREEMAN
THIS MATCH IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN! What do you think? Lamb to the slaughter? Upset for the ages? When you roll the dice in PRIME with a match up like this, with styles so disparate, it can make for some crazy outcomes.
Behold.
A trap remix of the Soviet Union national anthem plays over throughout the arena as Kenny Freeman steps out onto the stage, looking a little more confident about his choices compared to many weeks ago…and perhaps some of that has to do with Ivan Stanislav standing beside him, along with Randall Schwartz, who is motoring down to the ring in his water cooled graphite RBMK powered wheelchair much to the chagrin of the crowd as they boo the Master of the Moscowverse as Kenny walks to the ring.
Vince Howard: This match is set for one fall and has a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first…from Los Angeles, California by way of…um…Magnitogorsk, Russia…he stands at…two hundred centimeters? Weighing in at…one hundred thirty-six…kilograms? He is…a true comrade? A wonderful Communist? He is…Kenny…Freeman?
Looks like propaganda stretches far and wide.
Arriving at the ring, Kenny steps through the ropes, Ivan staying at ringside to seemingly cheer his not so new recruit on in the match!
“They say it’s good to start a story with a tragedy.”
The chunky guitar riff of “Fistfight” by The Ballroom Thieves kicks in as Paxton Ray walks out under the PRIMEView. Paxton sneers as the fans boo, then slowly holds his hand up in the air.
The day I finally met you like I knew I would
You raised me from the wreck of my doubts
You were smiling to yourself as if we both understood
The silent language of the anguish of a heart that sings but doesn’t make a sound
Paxton slowly walks towards the ring, looking around as the crowd rains hate down upon him. He steps up to the apron and steps over the ring ropes, then leans back against them and closes his eyes.
Vince Howard: His opponent, weighing in at 245 pounds…he is The Bayou Butcher…PAAAAAXTOOOOONNNN RAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!
Is Elvis Nixon prepared for this?
DING DING
The second the bell rings, Freeman tries to leave the ring, springing forth, attempting to dart between the ropes. Paxton Ray is having none of it. The Lafayette Bruiser rushes toward him, grabbing his body, jerking him violently back into the ring. Crash bang boom. Little Kenny Freeman hits with such force that he literally springs back to his feet after a roll. What follows after?
Nick Stuart: DISCUS ELBOW! Oh MY he nearly took his HEAD OFF right there!
Richard Parker: Paxton looking to finish this in record time!
Ray goes to grab the sprawled Freeman by the hair. What happens next shocks the entire world.
Nick Stuart: Wait! WAIT! FREEMAN PLAYING POSSUM!
Richard Parker: This is craziness!
Much smaller in stature, Kenny Freeman somehow, someway, manages to schoolboy the Bayou Butcher. It’s not just the jeans he’s pulling on…it’s the underwears.
ONE
TWO
THREE!
Oh yeah, THIS IS HAPPENING!
DING DING
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
Richard Parker: OH MY HOYT! HE FREAKING DID IT! RED ARMY RISING HE DID IT!
Nick Stuart: KENNY FREEMAN JUST GOT THE BIGGEST WIN OF HIS CAREER AND EVERYONE…EVERYONE IS IN SHOCK!
Foster Nackedy, wherever he is, is apoplectic. Incensed. His wonderful helmet surely swaying to and fro, looking out into the great beyond for guidance. There is none. Find it at the bottom of a liquor bottle, you student crippling shitfuck.
Vince Howard: YOU’RE WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNER–
Ivan Stanislav whoops and hollers.
Ivan Stanislav: DYAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAHAA!!
See?
Vince Howard: –BY PINFALL–
This miracle is so powerful, it NEARLY brings Randall Schwartz to his feet. Nearly. More like scooted an inch. Maybe his thighs twitched. It damn near causes him to flail out of his wheelchair and onto the ground to flop about like a dying fish.
Vince Howard: –KEEEEEEEEEEEEENNY–
Oh yeah, the match is done, right? Pay no attention to Kenny Freeman once again trying to dart out of the ropes, leaping into the welcoming arms of his Big Red Papa Bear. Pay no attention to the outright rage plastered all across Paxton Ray’s face.
Pay no attention to Elvis Nixon wildly waving his arms about, mouthing words the microphones around the ring can barely catch thanks to this monumental shocking upset.
Elvis Nixon: RAY GOT HIS SHOULDER UP! RAY GOT HIS SHOULDER UP!
The timekeeper gets it.
DING DING
Richard Parker: WAIT–
A dinner bell. Time to answer the call. Murderous intent lifts Paxton Ray to his feet and latches him onto Kenny Freeman, who, despite having a headstart, somehow never manages to escape the ring. Paxton looks to biel toss Freeman like a ragdoll, but somehow, someway, K-Free manages to get the slickest of roll ups.
Richard Parker: SECOND TIME’S THE CHARM!
Nick Stuart: FREEMAN GRABBING THE JEANS AGAIN!
ONE
TWO
KICKOUT!
With. Goddamn. Authority.
Uh oh. Oh no. Oh no no no Kenny. You did NOT just do that.
Nick Stuart: The first time…it was so close but it looked like Kenny Freeman had him, and the second time, Ray left no room to question. And you can tell he is incensed.
Richard Parker: But this could be a strategy. Some gameplan to finally deal with the hyper violent, hyper aggressive Bayou Butcher. The Running Of The Gators. Toro! Toro! Crawfish Boil!
Kenny Freeman might look like he’s about to go sickly white, but Paxton? He’s red. Top about to burst. Smoke bellowing from his ears and nostrils. Methodically, he rises, stomping forward, ready to kill the man in front of him like he was dealing with someone trying to wash his face in piss soaked mud pits filth. What does Freeman do?
Nick Stuart: Driving front dropkick from Kenny Freeman!
Richard Parker: Oh wow…that looked like it hurt, and Paxton can’t hide it.
Neither can Foster, who is smacking the ring apron, frazzled way more than he has any right to be. Ivan and Randall are glued to the proceedings, as are all the fans in attendance. Something is brewing here. Something monumental and unexpected.
Nick Stuart: ANOTHER running dropkick DRIVES Paxton Ray into the corner!
Richard Parker: It’s like he wasn’t expecting ANY resistance!
Nick Stuart: FREEMAN DRIVES HIS KNEE INTO PAXTON’S FACE! He got a running start and jumped on those middle ropes before launching himself with that knee!
Richard Parker: Oh Paxton…his face…his nose could be…
Nick Stuart: Broken. It could well be broken.
Ivan Stanislav: DYAAAAAAHAAHAA!!
Let’s call that The Multi-Hammer & Sickle. Impressive. But Freeman isn’t done.
Richard Parker: A back rake?!
Freeman once was looking to survive. But now? He’s feeling himself. Loving this. What’s the big deal? This was the Intense Champion?
Nick Stuart: Vertical suplex CONNECTS!
Well, he doesn’t hold Paxton up very long. Like, he nearly just falls over. But he definitely hit a vertical suplex on Paxton Ray. And, with pride for himself, for his brethren, for his Moscowverse, and for The Red Karmy (see it starts with a K because it’s Kenny), he floats over, lazily hooking the leg.
ONE
TWO
OH
HELL
NO
Richard Parker: uh oh…
The sound you hear is Kenny Freeman hitting the canvas from an authoritative kickout. And, while he springs to his feet rather quickly, when he does, he’s not alone.
THHHHHHHHHHHHWAAAAACK!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH
Nick Stuart: Paxton Ray…Paxton Ray…Paxton Ray…he was there to meet Freeman with that MASSIVE lariat!
Richard Parker: That arm…it hit him right in the face…
Kenny Freeman spins in the air, landing awkwardly in a crumble. The Bayou Butcher is unrepentant in his follow up, grabbing Freeman by the throat and lifting him back up, only to launch him in a successful biel toss.
Nick Stuart: This…could get very ugly in a hurry…
Richard Parker: Oh yeah…the fun is over…
Nick Stuart: And with Ivan and–
Richard Parker: Oh THIS could get VERY ugly–
The aforementioned Stanislav merely stands in his spot, arms folded across his massive chest. Some might think he would intervene. He does not. He has no quarrel with Paxton Ray…and with what he faces in mere weeks, why try and kick the Gator nest?
Freeman tries to get up, but he’s stopped by an elbow drop. Then another. And another. The Lafayette Bruiser clean jerks Freeman from the canvas, all before snapping him back onto it with sickening efficiency.
Nick Stuart: Brainbuster. The brainbuster.
While Kenny Freeman hasn’t been Rhine’d, he definitely isn’t on this plane of existence anymore. As if to prove a point, Paxton mounts Kenny, hitting him with closed fists, all until Elvis Nixon threatens to disqualify him. How does he respond? By grabbing Kenny by the hair and headbutting the absolute piss out of him.
Another choke lift. This one doesn’t stop once Kenny is on his feet. It’s like Paxton is tossing him in the air.
Because he is.
Lafayette Lullaby.
You know the rest.
ONE
TWO
THREE!
DING DING DING
Just think, in some part of the Moscowverse, this match ended the first time the bell tolled thrice. Unfortunately for some, fortunately for others, they’re on this side of the pizza slice.
Richard Parker: Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus.
Nick Stuart: I don’t think anyone would have expected a contest quite like this…
Vince Howard: Your winner…BY PINFALL! PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAXTON! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
Ivan stands outside stoically. There will surely be a discourse on maintaining proper Communist killer instinct (available for your home in 1995 only on Nintendo Ultra 64). And, even though Kenny Freeman is out like a light? Randall Schwartz somehow manages to be more still than K-Free could ever hope to be. We then fade to commercial.