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[Fade into the ring at Madison Square Garden, the most famous arena in the world, with 20,000 rabid, screaming fans surrounding it. This ring is where KARL BROWN will meet VICTOR MOLOTOV to determine the winner of the first annual TEAM Invitational Tournament. Pyro explodes at the top of the arena and the camera pans around like crazy, getting shots of fans in their various t-shirts and holding their signs... "Victor Molotov fears deodorant," "Karl Brown r00lz" and "I came all the way from the Storage Facility and all I got was this lousy sign!" Finally, the camera settles on Jess Chapel and the Iron Duke, both with their trendy TEAM collared polo shirts and headsets on.]
JC: Welcome everyone to MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, home of the first place Prague Rangers, the last place New York Knicks and the finals of the TEAM INVITATIONAL TOURNAMENT! After several months of grueling competition and superstars from more than ten feds overall, two men have emerged to battle for the right to be called the first ever Merritt Trophy Winner. Those two men are Victor Molotov and Karl Brown. And us two men are Jess Chapel and the Iron Duke! Now Duke, both of these guys were not consensus favorites to be here. A lot of people had Dan Ryan or Beast or Hida Yakamo in these spots. Why do you think they're here?
ID: Well, I hate to sound like one of you bloody American clichés, but it was clear from the beginning that both Brown and Molotov wanted to be here more. They saw the opportunity to become top stars in the business by defeating other top stars, and they seized that opportunity by the shorthairs. Don't believe the rubbish that people have been saying. Karl Brown and Victor Molotov being here is no upset.
JC: I would agree with those sentiments, Duke. These two men fought so hard, and now, they're here, fighting for two different reasons, two different wills. Both of them seem to have something different driving them. Karl Brown wants to build himself and this sport up, while Victor Molotov seems hell-bent on tearing it down. Duke, which force do you think is going to prevail?
ID: Well, I'll be buggered if I can guess right now. Part of me thinks this Molotov fellow is spot on with his assessment of the game today, but me heart is pulling me towards my countryman to bring pride and honor back to the Empire.
JC: The Empire's been dead for years, Duke. Give it up.
ID: It's an expression, you bloody wanker.
JC: I know, but if you're going to cop out on me, I'm not going easy.
ID: Bloody hell Jess, I ought to crack you one, but I do value the paycheck I get each time one of these shows airs.
JC: Oh Duke, you know you could never hit me. But anyway, we've seen and heard so much from these two competitors over the last few months. The time for words is over, and now, we decide who wins this inaugural tournament. To the ring.
[Camera cuts to Marvin Darling, decked out in a tux with an old-style microphone hanging from the ceiling.]
MD: Helloooooo New York City!
[CHEAP POP~!]
MD: This match is scheduled for one fall, has no time limit an' is the final matchup in this TEAM Invitational Tournament! Introducin' first...
[Cue up "Ride of the Valkyries."]
MD: ...from Petrograd, Russia...
[Enter Victor Molotov to nuclear heel heat.]
MD: ...weighing in at two-hundred and fifty pounds... he's th' Purifier... Victorrrrr.... MOLOTOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVV!
[Cut to a shot of Molotov walking stoically towards the ring, ignoring the boos and eyes afixed on the ring.]
JC: Look at him Dukey. He's a man possessed, I mean he's plowed through some of the best this business has to offer.
ID: Blimey, the resumés of the chaps he's beaten outright are impressive enough, although I'm not sure whether to count Dan Ryan's refusal to face him as a strike against him or a plus for him, seeing that he had a veritable legend in the Ego Buster reluctant to get into the ring with him.
JC: Well Duke, I'm still not sure of what to make of that. But the point remains. Vic's here, and lemme tell you, the only way you can put him down for good is if you break his neck. He'll keep coming at you like a pitbull.
[Molotov enters the ring and awaits.
Cue up "Rainmaker. Crowd EXPLODES!]
MD: And his opponent, weighing in at two-hundred eleven pounds, from Nottingham, England...
[Enter Karl Brown as the fans get louder.]
MD: Karl... THE DRAAAAAAGON.... BRRRRRRROOOOWWWWWWNNNNNNN!!!!
JC: Listen to this New York crowd give it up for the Englishman!
ID: They obviously have good taste, Jess. Karl Brown is going to prove that the sun never sets on the British Empire.
JC: I knew I should have gotten that mute button off of Tony Reale when I had the chance.
ID: You bloody wanker!
[Duke shakes his fist.]
JC: Duke, JAAMMMARRRR isn't here, you can stop doing that.
ID: Hmph.
[Karl Brown enters the ring.]
JC: Alright, they're both in the ring, and referee Pat Jones, on loan from Empire Pro Wrestling as a gesture from Dan Ryan for skipping town on us, is ready to call for the bell.
[DING DING DING]
JC: And we're off!
[The crowd explodes as the two men circle each other.]
JC: You can cut the tension with a knife here, Duke. Neither of these men wants to make the first move, but they're just circling each other. Both men were talking a big game, but maybe the Garden has them a little jittery?
ID: Perhaps Duke. I know from experience, I wrestled at Wembley you know.
JC: Dark matches don't count Duke. [ID: Bloody hell!] But this one does, finally, we get a tie up, Molotov with the early advantage with the hammerlock. Fairly simple hold here.
ID: Simple, yet it'll rip your bloody arm off if you apply it enough.
JC: So true Duke, so true... oh man! Brown just snapmared Molotov with his free arm. Molotov had the move in well enough but he made the mistake of hooking the wrong arm there.
[Molotov gets up and shakes off as Brown smiles at him.]
ID: Opening match jitters, nothing more. Remember Jess, these two have never faced off before.
JC: Probably Duke. We all know about Molotov's proficiency in both wrestling and shootfighting as we see here the latter with that standing armbar.
ID: Molotov working those arms. Methinks he's trying make sure Karl can't bloody well grapple him.
JC: Maybe but... and Brown counters him again!
[Brown with an elbow to the gut and a shove. Molotov looking visibly angrier.]
JC: Man, Karl Brown is catching Victor Molotov sleeping early this match.
ID: I have to say, he's bloody clever. He's showing some of that Dukish cleverness.
JC: He's not related to you, Duke. For one, he doesn't have a club foot.
ID: Bloody hell!
JC: Another grapple and Molotov this time with the side headlock. Simple moves here...
ID: Simple but effective if used...
[Brown out of the headlock and counters to a rear waistlock.]
JC: Counter! Another counter! Brown behind Molotov, struggling to get him over or down, I'm not sure exactly what he's trying to do.
ID: I don't know either, but he's shaking him like one of our nannies.
JC: Duke, I didn't know you had it in you, but Karl's got something in him, pitbull tenacity... and he gets Molotov over with that Olympic style takeover.
ID: Bloody well he does! Great amatuer wrestling there from my countryman there.
JC: I'm impressed. Karl's been training a lot, I know this just from being in contact. Both these guys are prepared.
[At this point, Brown is looking at a recovering Molotov with a smirk on his face.]
ID: Well, as much as he is prepared, Karl better not get lazy with this Russian bloke or he'll tear him apart.
JC: I'd agree with that, and I don't like the look on Molotov's face. HE looks... pissed.
ID: No you wanker, you don't think?
JC: Well, yeah, although Karl can handle himself, and he'd better be ready to. Looks like we're going to see another collar and...
[WHACK~!]
JC: ...NO! Molotov fakes him out with that Mongolian chop, right to the base of Karl Brown's neck on both sides!
ID: Dirty pool! Dirty pool!
JC: Duke, nothing dirty about that. A little cheap, but totally legal. Karl's now reeling a bit, and Molotov follows up with a big clothesline. Brown is to the mat, and speaking of pitbull tenacity, Molotov straight to the canvas with a divebombing knee right to Brown's brow! That knee is a registered deadly weapon in three states. Thankfully for Molotov, New York isn't one of them.
ID: Ha ha, very funny, ho ho, it is to laugh.
JC: C'mon Dukey, you know you chortled.
ID: Chortle?
[Molotov covers.]
JC: And not even a two on before Karl Brown kicked out of that one. Way too early in the match.
ID: Never too early, you have to establish dominance early. Good strategy, although I hope Karl is able to bounce back.
JC: Such a homer, Duke. [ID: Wanker!] Karl slowly getting up...
[CRACK! Molotov with a boot right to Brown's face.]
JC: Karl Brown gets for free the dental work he never got in England as a child, courtesy of Molotov's size fourteen!
ID: British dental jokes... the height of comedy. [rolling his eyes]
JC: Oh Dukey, I didn't know you cared. Brown holding his face on the canvas, Molotov drops back off the ropes and...
[WHAM~! Knee across the bridge of Brown's nose.]
JC: And a nosejob to go with that dental work. I'd have to say, Karl Brown is coming down to Earth a bit.
ID: It's a bloody shame, but he'll bounce back. The British always do!
JC: Molotov feeling his oats and he's got another pin attempt...
...one...
...two...
...quick kickout at two. I have to say, this has been pretty competitive so far.
ID: Yes, although it hasn't been move for move even. They've each had their time in the sun so far.
JC: Yes, and it's still very early.
[Molotov dragging Brown to his feet.]
JC: Molotov with Brown, suplex... no, Karl flips over him and now he's got the Russian in a rear waistlock... back body... and no! Another flip over and Molotov is behind Brown! The Purifier with the victory roll... one... no! Not even one! Brown rolls through! Brown rolls through into a wheelbarrow and...
[Molotov counters the wheelbarrow suplex, twists around and grabs Brown in a front facelock.]
JC: ...and I don't know how, but Molotov just nailed him with a DDT!
ID: I'm bloody speechless, Jess.
JC: Victor Molotov stops to catch his breath, and this crowd is clapping for him despite the fact that he's a complete and utter douche to them.
ID: Wanker or not, this crowd will respect you if you can bring it. Molotov can bring it.
JC: That much is true, Dukey. No rest for the weary though, because that Russian pitbull is at it again.
[The dreaded REST HOLD OF DOOM~!... this time a sleeper, applied to Brown in the seated position.]
ID: Pitbull indeed Jess. Victor Molotov is rabid, bloody rabid in his quest to purify this sport, and to him, that means he has to be bloody relentless, like a detective from Scotland Yard.
[Brown reaches for the ropes but Molotov yanks him back.]
JC: I don't know why he thinks this sport needs purifying though. It's the guys like Karl Brown or Felix Red or Maggot, Beast, Ken Cloverleaf. It needs the cocky and flashy and the guys who fly and use the trash. I mean, sure, we need the technical marvels too, but if this sport had nothing but Molotovs or Jean Rabesques and Chris Benoits, it would be boring, quite frankly.
ID: I somewhat agree with you, but you even have to agree that to a point, Molotov has a bloody point.
[Brown is inching towards the ropes so slightly.]
JC: I will never agree with him on that. His mission sucks, and Karl Brown will prove that, even if he loses tonight, he'll never give up and never let this creep end his career. Even now, as he's in this hold, Karl's moving, fighting to get to the ropes.
ID: He is... I bloody hope he gets there too.
JC: Homer.
ID: Sod off! Let's go Karl! Let's go England!
JC: Shameless, even when you're rooting for the same guy I am, but steadily, he's getting there, getting to the ropes.
ID: Just an inch... just one bloody inch and he's got a break.
[Brown reaches and grabs the second rope. The crowd pops big.]
JC: And he's in the ropes, but Molotov isn't letting him go at all! C'mon ref, get in there! Three, four... finally! Molotov breaks!
ID: Bloody rubbish, he doesn't follow the rules!
JC: The letter of the law says he gets five before he gets tossed.
[Molotov brings Brown up to hands and knees.]
JC: It may be cheap, but it's legal. Just as legal as that double axehandle to the back of Karl Brown's neck.
ID: Karl's in a bad way right now. Bloody Norah, things aren't looking good for the Empire.
JC: Well, that's what happens when Molotov isn't into wasting time. I'm telling you, he's Pavlov's Pitbull.
ID: Right clever.
JC: And just like a pitbull, Molotov rips Karl to his feet into that front facelock.
[Molotov lifts Brown into a suplex peak.]
JC: Up and down HARD with that brainbuster! Not a suplex, but a friggin' brainbuster!
ID: I felt that back here.
JC: And Molotov is not going for the pin here. Instead, he's wrapping up Karl in that...
ID: Bloody hell? That's...
JC: That's a keylock! A keylock! He's got Karl Brown in that deadly shootfighting submission. That move... you can't last in that move without tapping furiously.
ID: But Karl's not tapping...
JC: ...yet Duke, yet. Although he is pretty close to the ropes. That's his best shot.
[Brown waves his free arm in the vicinity of the rope, almost there.]
ID: Come on! Come on!
JC: Duke, you can stop cheerleading now and at least pretend to be objective!
ID: I can't, the tension's too great!
JC: It is, he's a half an inch away from the ropes now and... yes! Karl Brown is in the ropes! And again, Victor Molotov is not letting go of the hold, although this time, it's a much deadlier hold!
ID: Bloody hell! Get him off! Get him off!
JC: He's at three again, and now at four, Molotov releases the hold! Karl Brown is gasping for air...
[Molotov stands up and just smirks like he's the cat who ate the canary.]
JC: ...and look at Molotov. He knows he's taking some cheap liberties. Everything he does is in the rules, but that doesn't make it not cheap.
ID: I told you! Bloody hell, you don't listen.
[Molotov yanks Brown to his feet.]
JC: I do listen Duke, but I don't cheerlead.
ID: Technicalities.
JC: Yeah... yeah.
[Another front facelock and suplex peak.]
JC: And here we go again, this time Molotov holding there, blood rushing to the head...
[WHAM~! Another buster.]
JC: And I'm certain that one's done Karl Brown in. Two vicious brainbusters sandwiching a keylock. I haven't seen punishment like this since UXW closed doors.
ID: Bloody hell! Britain is in national crisis, and all you care about is your flipping nostalgia kick?
JC: [ignoring the comment] Molotov actually covers this time...
...one...
...two...
...th... NO! No, Karl Brown kicks out at about two and a half.
ID: Thank God!
[Molotov yanks Brown to his feet again into a front facelock.]
JC: Well, don't go thanking the Lord yet, because Pavlov's Pitbull is about ready to bite again...
ID: Bloody hel... NO... err... YES!
[Just as Duke says "errr... YES!" Brown reverses the third brainbuster at its height into a sunset flip pin attempt.]
JC: One...
...two...
...Molotov reverses up from the pin and just pops to his feet! [Cringes]
[Molotov stomps Brown right in the neck.]
JC: Christ Jesus! Every time Karl Brown seems to catch a break, Molotov just cuts him off like my Uncle Jimmy at the bar on paynight.
ID: Lousy Irish...
JC: Duke!... ugh... man, Molotov right back to the attack, this is looking more like a one-sixteen blowout than a classic final match.
[Molotov hits Brown with a swinging neckbreaker.]
JC: ...and now we're back to that keylock. Jesus, Molotov is serious about ending Brown's career here, and even though he is a little sloppy again being that close to the ropes, it doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter, he'll keep it locked in for an extra four seconds and claim to be following the rules to the letter.
ID: Well I know, but that's what he does. He's fanatical, and while I can't bloody blame him in some cases, I don't see how Karl Brown fits his mold.
JC: Mold or not, this is a sick quest.
[Brown locks his arm into the bottom rope.]
JC: And I'm not even going to get indignant anymore. This... I can't fathom why someone could be so hell-bent on something to want to destroy it.
[At four, Molotov releases the hold.]
ID: Well, nothing we can do but call this. Although I'm about ready to head out for tea.
JC: You can't leave Duke, you can't leave 'til it's over. That might be soon the way this is going.
[Another stomp to the head of Karl Brown.]
JC: This match is legalized homicide. And now Molotov's about ready to finish him off.
ID: I can't watch.
JC: Rear facelock and now, the rest of that hold is aca.... no, wait! Karl's got some fight left in him!
[Brown elbows Molotov in the gut.]
ID: Don't toy with me!
JC: Get your hands off your eyes.
[Another elbow, and another, and another until Brown is free.]
JC: Karl Brown is free from what I can only gather was an attempt for that Purifying Scourge. And now a snapmare! My God, Karl's not dead! He winds up...
[CRACK! Kick to the back of Molotov.]
JC: And the kick is good! Jets win! Jets win! Molotov holding his back and this deflated crowd finally has some air into it.
ID: I never thought I'd be leading a bunch of filthy New Yorkers in a cheer, but...
[Duke gets up and turns around to the crowd behind him.]
ID and CROWD: LET'S GO KARL!
[THUMP THUMP THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!]
ID and CROWD: LET'S GO KARL!
[THUMP THUMP THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!]
JC: Alright, you can stop that! Objectivity!
[Molotov to his feet wobbily, and Brown standing in wait.]
JC: It's Karl Brown's turn to play hunter here, stalking, waiting... Molotov turns around and now... belly to bel... awww no!
[Molotov blocks and counters with a belly to belly of his own. You can audibly hear the crowd DEFLATE at that.]
JC: I can't believe it! No matter what Karl Brown does he can't seem to get ahead!
[Molotov flips Brown over on his belly and applies a rear naked choke.]
ID: Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Bloody flipping hell!
JC: Molotov with another shootfighter hold and now he's rolling on his back. I think that's a rear naked choke with scissors... things aren't looking good now...
ID: A choke! A choke! That's bloody illegal!
JC: Duke, we went through this in the Beast/Molotov match. That's a legal hold, and... oh my Christ...
[CRACK! With his free arm, Molotov clubs Brown in the chest.]
JC: Molotov attacking the respiratory system here full on, at the passage where the air gets in in the throat and the lungs where it's processed. Molotov doesn't want Karl to breath anymore.
ID: Sickening. I can't stomach this.
JC: This is starting to...
[THWIP! Block'd! With his own free arm, Brown blocks a concussive blow from Molotov.]
JC: Brown's fighting back! Brown's a fighter! Swatting away the blows! And now he's rocking the boat!
ID: There's no quit in Karl Brown! Just like there's no quit in the Emp...
JC: We know Dukey, we know, the sun won't set, but in the ring, Karl Brown's nearly got the momentum to get into the ropes...
[Crowd pops!]
JC: He's in the ropes and this time he breaks the hold with the momentum!
ID: Finally, he shan't be able to stay 'til four.
JC: Molotov is up to his feet, and...
[Brown somehow finds the strength to swivel on his belly and swing around to trip up Molotov on his own belly.]
ID: BLLLOOOOODY HELLL!
JC: Molotov tripped up! And now it's time for Karl Brown to get in on submission action! Achilles lock!
ID: Bloody good show!
JC: Karl Brown's got that locked in... but Molotov's got too much left and too much of his body is free! He's moving around, up to his knee.
[Molotov swivels on his knee, breaking the lock on his ankle and getting to his feet, facing Brown.]
JC: I can't believe it, not only is he a brutal shootfighting killer, but he's got some mobility with that fused spine.
ID: Whatever it is they put in his bloody vodka, I want it.
JC: Molotov on one foot, Brown with the other, and I don't know how he's going to...
[CRACK~! Molotov's foot meets Brown's head.]
JC: And I don't know how, but a man with two fused vertabrae just nailed Karl Brown with an enzugiri. Now I've seen it all.
ID: I can't bloody believe it.
JC: Neither can this crowd. Victor Molotov has done what only the New York Knicks have been able to do this past year, and that's silence the Garden.
ID: Blimey, and I thought we were going to use the word "defecate" on air for the first time.
[Molotov grabs Brown into a standing headscissors.]
JC: No Duke, Beau Michaels was eliminated in Portland, and it looks like Karl Brown is going to be eliminated here. From New York to Memphis... PILEDRIVER! Karl Brown flops to the canvas like a dying fish, and now Molotov with the cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! NO! Karl Brown kicks out! Karl Brown kicks out!
ID: I can't believe it! He's like a bloody sponge for pain!
JC: He's got one hell of a will to win.
[Molotov brings Brown to his feet.]
JC: But a will to win won't do enough, not without some offense. Molotov looks like he's...
[POKE! Out of nowhere, Brown gouges Molotov's eyes.]
JC: ...HOLY CRAP! HOLY CRAP! Karl Brown just raked the eyes of Victor Molotov! He just raked the eyes and this crowd loves it!
ID: I don't think I'd ever be so happy to see an Englishman cheat!
JC: Molotov holding his face, staggering around the ring while Karl Brown catches his breath. This crowd is buzzing, and Molotov turns around...
[BOOT! DDT!]
ID: BLOODY NORAH! YES!
JC: Molotov gets spiked! And finally, Karl Brown has something going!
ID: This is a match again! Karl Brown is back in it!
[Brown stands, eyes on Molotov, catching a breather while Molotov recovers.]
JC: And that's the best part about wrestling. There is no score, the momentum can change at any time, and when it does, the match can end in an instant! Fifty point shots and...
[Molotov stands up, back facing Brown.]
ID: And I think we're going to see one here...
[BACK SUPLEX~! Crowd goes bat****.]
JC: I don't believe it! Molotov spiked on the canvas again and now the tides have turned. Molotov using the ropes to climb to his feet, but Brown's there, stalking his prey.
ID: Karl is so very calculating.
JC: And if I were Victor Molotov, I wouldn't turn around...
[CRACK! Dropkick right to Molotov's face.]
JC: HATE TO SAY I TOLD YOU SO VICTOR EM! And now the mad Russian is sent to the outside! This crowd is going nuts!
[Announcer quiet for thirty seconds as the fans go bonkers for Brown as he stands in the ring, eyes on Molotov.]
JC: Listen to these Noo Yawkaz, Duke!
ID: I am, I am, and for once, I'm in agreeance with the bloody mouth-breathers!
JC: New York, that's about as close to a compliment as the Iron Duke is gonna give you! Molotov shakes out the cobwebs and slides back into the ring, and it's almost like we're back at square one.
ID: Only both men have a lot taken out of them.
JC: Yeah, and I have to wonder, even though he's come back nicely, how much does Karl Brown have left?
ID: We'll, we're bloody going to find out!
JC: You're right, Dukey. Collar and elbow tie up and... a boot to the gut of Molotov! That refresher didn't do him much good, cuz Karl has him in that front chancery, like a reverse dragon sleeper.
ID: With all due respect, the chancery was around first.
JC: I'm just going to ignore that Duke. But what I'm not going to ignore is that finally, Karl is able to be the one wearing Molotov down instead of the other way around. Restricting the bloodflow to Molotov's head, taking away his most valuable asset, that brain.
ID: And it's so refreshing to have two intelligent buggers in a match rather than one smartie and a dullard like Beast.
JC: Be nice, Dukey. Call the match at hand, cuz we have a good one.
ID: Blah.
JC: Don't blah me. Your homeslice is draining the life out of Molotov and after b*tching this whole match that he was losing, you can't cheer him on rather than make fun of folks who aren't even here?
ID: Like I said... bloody blah.
JC: Jesus... Brown's got that hold cinched in tight... no, wait! Molotov got his arm free and he's punching Karl in the gut!
ID: Bloody hell, I jinxed 'im.
JC: Two, three, four shots to the gut, winding up for another and... no! Karl with a kick to the gut and a DDT!
ID: Jolly good show!
[Molotov holds his head, while Brown lays on the canvas.]
JC: And both these men seem spent. I wonder how long this match will go on for...
[Suddenly, Brown kips up, ala HBK.]
ID: Bloody good show!
JC: I just don't know where he got it from. He's gotta have something extra.
[Brown goes over to Molotov and drags him to his feet.]
ID: He's English. He's a born and bred winner, no matter what odds.
JC: Don't feed me that crap Duke, it has nothing to do with his Englishness. He's a warrior though, and he's going for a suplex here... no! Molotov slips behind Karl and now he's got him in a back body... no! NO! Brown slips out now, grabs Molotov on the way down and...
[CRASH! Reverse DDT!]
ID: BLOODY HELL!!
JC: Bloody hell indeed! I'm dumbfounded, not just by Karl, but by Molotov too, some of the stuff he's pulled out of his behind, and... this may be the best match I've ever seen, and I was there when Beast and Torment nearly killed themselves in a Hell in the Cell...
[Brown heads over to the corner.]
JC: ...I was there when Promo and Rat kicked each others' asses in a friggin' Burger King drive-through. I've seen it all.
[Brown climbs the ropes.]
JC: ...and this is just... this is up there, man, it's at least up there, like Brown is now.
ID: AAAAAIIIIIIRRR BRITTTTANNNNNIAAAA!!!!
[Brown leaps.]
JC: GUILLOTINE LEG DROP! He nearly decapitated Victor Molotov! Cover...
...one...
...two...
...and Molotov kicks out! Good Lord, I am spent, and I still think these two have a ton more wrestling left in them.
[Brown to his knees, breathing heavily, then gets to his feet and grabs Molotov to his.]
ID: You're telling me. These are two bloody iron men.
JC: Irish whip on Molotov, Brown with the lariat and Molotov ducks it. Brown turns around and THESZ PRESS! Molotov just hit him with that Lou Thesz press! The momentum swing again!
[Molotov starts raining down forearms on Brown's face.]
ID: Now that's a bloody interesting variation.
JC: Can't you see that Duke? Instead of closed fists, he's raining forearms, techincally legal. This a little less cheap than before, but that ultimate fighting style move, just punishing. And now Pat Jones steps in and he's breaking it up. Molotov obliges, albeit reluctantly.
ID: That ought to be illegal.
JC: C'mon Duke, you can't go arbitrarily deciding what moves are legal or not. Let 'em go, this isn't a round of golf at Augusta.
[Molotov grabs Brown to his feet and gets behind him.]
ID: But that's excessive.
JC: Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. All I know is, as much as we don't like it, Karl Brown got that and is about ready to get a German suplex.
ID: Bloody hel.... NOOO... err... YESS!!!
JC: I don't believe it! Karl Brown flips out of the hold and lands on his feet! Molotov just realized that and turns around...
[CRASH~!]
JC: DROPKICK! Right in Molotov's teeth! The Russian to the canvas like a sack of bricks! This crowd is going nuts!
ID: And I'm going bonkers myself!
[Brown picks Molotov right up.]
JC: I've learned to live with that, Dukey, you big homer you.
ID: Am not!
JC: Are too... and side Russian leg sweep on the Russian assassin. How á propós.
ID: Don't you go using those bloody French phrases on me now. I'll kill you!
[Brown up and at the head of Molotov.]
JC: Thanks Dukey, I didn't know you cared, but all that aside, Karl Brown putting the boots to Molotov right in his skull. I guess those boots are made for stompin', eh?
ID: After taking blows like that, I wouldn't be surprised if Molotov's brain turned into Yorkshire pudding.
JC: Gross Duke, but I still think you're neat. Karl now sitting Molotov up from behind and... HENNIG SPECIAL! That flipover neckbreaker, it's quick but deadly.
ID: Shades of two late greats there, as Eddy Guerrero was fond of that move too.
[Brown goes to Molotov's upper body to pick him up.]
JC: Yep, and now it looks like Karl's going to go back for more... no! Molotov just rolled Karl into an inside cradle! I don't believe it!
ID: Bloody hell! He's some weird pitbull/cockroach hybrid!
[Count of two before Brown reverses the cradle to his own advantage.]
JC: Wait a second! Karl reversed it! Now he's got the cradle in... two... and Molotov kicks out. Jesus Christ man, I think I'm going to have to go to my cardiologist after this match.
[Brown picks Molotov to his feet.]
ID: I don't know, maybe if you stopped eating those bloody biscuits and chicken, you wouldn't have palpitations!
[Brown Irish whip on Molotov.]
JC: But they're sooo goooood. Molotov charging in and Karl with the lariat... DUCKED! Molotov just stopped dead in his tracks! Backslide...
...one...
...two...
...Karl kicks out! Just when you think he's got the momentum for good, Molotov always finds a way to creep back in.
[Both men get up a little slowly.]
ID: Bloody hell, I am beside myself right now.
JC: I think this crowd is too, and now both men back to their feet in what I can only describe as a war so far. Karl winds up for a punch, and it's blocked! Molotov counters with a chop...
CROWD: WOOOO!
JC: ...and he follows it up with an Irish whip, Karl off the ropes and Molotov with the monkey flip... NO! Karl blocks it!
ID: Begorrah! Is he going to whip out the old Birmingham Crab?
JC: That's Boston Crab, spank you very much, and I don't think so. He's leaning back a bit, we might see an old-fashioned catapult here!
ID: You're bloody right, Jess.
[Brown leans back, sending Molotov flying.]
JC: BOOOOMMMMBS AWAAAAAYYYY! Molotov just landed throat first on the top rope!
ID: Un-bloody-believable!
JC: Un-bloody-believable is right, Duke, and now Karl grabs a back-stumbling Molotov in a full nelson... DRAGON SUPLEX FROM THE DRAGON! With a bridge to boot...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! No! Victor Molotov just kicked out. I thought that could have been the match there.
[Brown flips Molotov over onto his belly.]
ID: Well Jess, as much as I would have liked it, Molotov still has a bloody large amount of fight left in him. He's driven by his mission too much.
[Brown locks in an STF on Molotov.]
ID: He won't stop until he's either crippled Karl Brown and in his mind, the Stygian Beast known as EPW, or until he himself has been crippled.
JC: Well, the way both of these warriors have been working each other's heads, they might both be crippled afterwards, and I'm sure this STF isn't going to help matters for one Victor Molotov.
ID: ANd that not only works the neck, but the chest and abdominals as well.
JC: Wow, good color analysis. I didn't know you had it in you Duke.
ID: Of course I bloody well did, Jess. Don't underestimate you.
JC: It's hard not to sometimes, Dukey. [ID: Bloody hell!] Molotov is getting closer to the ropes though, he might break the hold.
ID: Bloody hell, keep him away from the ropes, Karl!
JC: There goes that cheerleading streak again, Dukey. Molotov is reaching for the ropes and... he's in, he's in the ropes and well look at this, Karl Brown just broke the hold immediately.
ID: He's up and smirking, Jess. I wonder if he did that just to send a message to Molotov?
JC: No doubt he did, Dukey.
[Brown drags Molotov to his feet.]
JC: And no doubt he plans on continuing the punishment now. Looks like Molotov is about to be served up a nice, juicy T-bone steak... no! Molotov slipped out at the height of the suplex!
ID: Slippery bastard!
JC: Molotov behind and... back suplex, Karl Brown landing right on his neck!
ID: Every time... Begorrah, he's too tenacious.
[Molotov to his feet, grabbing Karl to his by his head.]
JC: He's very tenacious, and that plus his warped frame of mind... I fear what would happen if he actually got a chance to be loosed in a major promotion. Molotov now positioning himself to Brown's side...
[CRASH~! Molotov with the tear drop suplex at a very high angle to Brown.]
ID: Bloody hell!
JC: Good God! I think Molotov just killed Karl Brown. I think he completed his mission, because that suplex was ESS-EYE-SEE-KAY SICK! The pitbull with a cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out! He kicks out! He can't be alive... he's gotta be a zombie or something.
[Molotov drags Brown to his feet.]
ID: He's nothing of the sort, Jess. He's English! He's tough!
JC: Both these men are tough. Molotov now looking for some more punishment, and he's got that front facelock in tight. Could we see another brainbuster here?
ID: Maybe we will, maybe we won't...
JC: ...or maybe we'll see Karl Brown counter that into a Nothern Lights suplex, my friggin' Lord...
...one...
...two...
...th... no! Molotov kicks out! I can't believe this match! Just when you think it's going one way, it takes a sharp turn.
ID: Well, I can tell you one thing. I bet that wanker Molotov believes now that this match wouldn't be as easy as thrashing that fan last week.
[Brown is up, leaning against the ropes for a breather. Molotov struggles to get up.]
JC: That was a despicable act, Dukey, and even if he wins this match, Karl Brown will have made him pay for it. Both men are up now, and they seem to be taking a little breather... no wait, Molotov was faking it! Lunges at Karl... Karl caught him! Karl caught him! Fujiwara armbar!
ID: Brilliant awareness by Karl here!
JC: These two men are giving it their all, and neither man deserves to lose this match, even if Molotov is a soulless assassin, who's now in the ropes and Karl once again breaks immediately and cleanly!
ID: Haha, I love it! Molotov is all buggered now, Karl is really under his skin.
JC: Karl dragging Molotov to his feet and a Rude Awakening style neckbreaker. I think I heard a vertebra snap in Molotov's neck. Karl covers...
...one...
...two...
...no! Molotov kicks out, and Karl wastes no time floating to Molotov's head and locking in a seated sleeperhold.
ID: All these bloody sleepers, I'm starting to get a bit drowsy!
JC: Don't you dare fall asleep on me, Duke. We've made it this far, don't quit on me yet.
ID: I'm not, I'm not. No matter how this match ends, I want to be here to see whether it's my countryman who stands tall, or whether it's the Russian who completes his mission.
JC: Good form, Duke. Good form. And Molotov is showing some good form here, up on his knee, trying to power out of this sleeperhold.
ID: This bugger... he just won't quit!
JC: Did you expect him to, Dukey? He made it to the finals, and just like neither one of us expects Karl to quit, Molotov shouldn't be expected to either. Molotov now to his feet struggling to get out... no! Karl saw it and dropped the hammer on him with that sleeperdrop!
ID: Bloody Norah!
JC: Karl pops right back to his feet, off the ropes and elbow drop right across Molotov's throat! Cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! No! Victor Molotov kicks out! Karl Brown is to his feet and he's signaling to the crowd.
ID: He's going to do it! He's going to finish Molotov!
JC: That's what it looks like because he's got Molotov locked in that dragon sleeper now. We're going to see the Dragon's Bite!
ID: Holy Begorrah.... bloody hell!
[Before Brown can lift Molotov for the move, Molotov deftly maneuvers, twisting around and countering with a DDT.]
JC: Bloody hell indeed, Dukey! Of all the counters... holy crap, I can't believe I just saw that, Victor Molotov escaping certain doom, and now both men are on the canvas!
ID: I can't take it anymore. I'm bloody drained, Jess. Bloody drained.
JC: You and me both, Dukey, but I really don't think the end is in sight.
[Molotov sits up as the ref Pat Jones breaks his count at six.]
JC: I mean, these two men must have an infinite reserve of will to win. Molotov is up now and... good Lord! Shades of Mr. Hyde here with that Beastslayer!
ID: A bloody Regal Stretch!
JC: Molotov stretching the life out of Karl Brown. I mean, this man is a master of submissions, and slowly but surely, he's worn the Dragon down to the point where I wouldn't be surprised to see him tap with every passing second.
ID: Karl Brown will never tap! A Briton doesn't give up!
JC: Unless that Briton is you, right Dukey?
ID: Pipe down you bloody wanker! I'm rallying the troops!
JC: Well, the troops do need to be rallied for Karl, because he's being stretched. Still, he's close to the ropes. He just needs to get in the ropes.
ID: Bah, what's the use, Molotov will just keep the hold locked in until Pat Jones counts bloody five.
JC: That may be the case, but at least after those seconds, he'd be out of the hold without having to tap, and that's more than I can say for him now. But he's getting closer, closer...
ID: Almost there!
JC: And... he's there! He's in the ropes and... holy crap! Molotov with the clean, immediate break!
ID: I don't flipping believe it!
JC: Neither do I! The only explanation I can think of is that Karl doing it finally got to Molotov mentally. I'd call this a moral victory for Karl Brown, but right now, moral victories mean as much as being armed with a Bowie knife in a nuclear war.
[Molotov grabs Brown to his feet in a front waistlock.]
JC: Molotov looking for the belly to... NO! Karl with the headbutt! Breaks loose from the waistlock and now.... LARIATO!
[Crowd explodes.]
ID: My word!
JC: Brown to his feet and he's looking over to the corner with the approval of this crowd. I think you're going to have to bust out the Air Britannia call again, Dukey.
[Brown heads over to the ropes swiftly and climbs.]
ID: I don't know. He can't be going to the well too many times, but if he hits this move, the match could be over.
JC: But he has to hit it, I agree, and he's on the top. Leaps with the splash and... NO! Molotov moved! Molotov moved! Karl flips on his back and Molotov with the quick cover...
...one...
...two...
...Karl kicks out!
ID: I knew it, I told you, he shouldn't have gone.
[Molotov up and brings Brown to his feet.]
JC: Well Dukey, hindsight is twenty/twenty, but you can't win matches unless you take calculated risks. This one just didn't pay off, and now Molotov is in control. Double underhook and textbook butterfly suplex. Molotov back over with that Pavlov Pitbull tenacity and he sits Karl up into an abdominal stretch.
ID: If he wasn't seated, I'd think maybe he was segueing into the Molotov Cocktail.
JC: Well, maybe he is, I don't know, but for now, he's working the neck and abs with this hold.
ID: Either way, things do not look peachy for Karl.
JC: Well, that's been the case most of this match, but Karl has been fighting back. Same thing with Molotov, hell, both of these guys.
ID: I know, Jess.
JC: Wait a second, Karl's showing a second wind.
[Brown starts to push his shoulders back and get some leverage.]
ID: Wouldn't that be his fourth or fifth bloody wind?
[Brown is up on one knee as Molotov's grip on the hold is breaking.]
JC: Christ Duke, can't you let me make an analogy in peace?
ID: Bloody never, Mr. "I can't stop calling Duke a homer."
JC: You are a petty man, Duke, but Karl is about to be a free man... yes! He's out of the hold and he gets behind Molotov in a rear waistlock... BIG GERMAN SUPLEX! Molotov rolling over on his stomach and once again, Karl Brown is on the hunt!
ID: Be still my beating heart!
[Brown up and now looking over Molotov's upper back, sizing it up.]
JC: I'm with you on this one Duke, but it's worth it. I guarantee you that, whoever wins this Merritt Trophy will have deserved it.
[Brown with one knee drop on Molotov.]
JC: Brown must want to literally break Molotov's back here, he lands another knee to that back, and now another.
ID: Three knees!
JC: You can rhyme, Dukey, and he's going for a fourth... no, Molotov rolls out of the way, but Brown stops short! He leans back and... ELBOW DROP! Right across Molotov's chest! He outsmarted the assassin there!
ID: Bloody right he did!
JC: And now a cover...
...one...
...two...
...th... no! Molotov kicks out! He kicks out! You can see the frustration start to set in on both men, on Karl for not being able to finish and on Molotov for not being able to keep up the dominance he had earlier on in the match, for letting it slip away like this.
[Brown lifts Molotov up to his feet. Irish whip.]
ID: But one thing you need to remember, like you said earlier...
JC: TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER! Big move here and Karl with another pin attempt...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! Kickout! As you were saying Dukey?
[Brown slams the mat and kneels up.]
ID: Well, I was saying, like you said earlier in the match, there is no score in these matches, so momentum shifts are huge.
[Brown picks Molotov up again and another Irish whip.]
JC: That is correct. Molotov could get back in this match at any moment, but now he's totally not in it, as Karl with the step-through neckbreaker out of the Irish whip this time. Another cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! Another kickout, this one with a little more authority than the last one!
ID: I'm telling you, there bloody has to be something in his damn vodka!
[Brown pounds the mat again but this time gets right up, grabbing Molotov with him.]
JC: Maybe there is, and maybe there isn't, although whatever's left will be gone if Karl hits the Dragon's Bite here like he wants to...
ID: C'mon Karl, c'mon...
JC: NO! Molotov with one elbow, but Karl still holding on for dear life, another elbow... one more, the rear facelock is broken... ACE CRUSHER! ACE CRUSHER! Victor Molotov just hit Karl Brown with an ace crusher and he again escapes near defeat!
ID: I've compared him to a pitbull and a cockroach tonight... dare I bloody call the wanker the Russian Houdini?
[Brown on the canvas, holding his head, Molotov kneeling up, taking a small breather.]
JC: I don't know Dukey. I just don't know anymore. Molotov is up, leaning on the ropes, while Karl is struggling to get up after taking that stunning move right to his chin.
ID: Molotov should have covered when he had the chance.
[Brown getting up to the ropes, leaning on them.]
JC: Easy to say that, Duke, but you don't know what physical condition he's in. He's been through a war tonight. Both men now up and approaching each other in the middle of the ring...
[PUNT!]
JC: ...Molotov with a DDT! He covers...
...one...
...two...
..thr... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out! Molotov can't believe it!
ID: Neither can bloody Molotov!
[Molotov storms to his feet.]
JC: You're right, he's beside himself, Dukey. Pavlov's Pitbull stomping Karl's head like a winemaker stomps his grapes.
ID: Bloody hell, if he wasn't trying to kill Karl before, he certainly is now.
JC: Molotov bounces back off the ropes... KNEE DROP! Drops the knee right across Karl's forehead, and I think he's dead.
ID: You've been saying that all match, and he keeps coming back. I wouldn't hire you to be my bloody coroner.
JC: That's good, because this is the only job I love. Molotov covers...
...one...
...two...
...th... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out!
ID: I bloody told you!
[Molotov slaps the canvas and has a word with Pat Jones.]
JC: Alive, yes, but after all the punishment he's taken, do you think he can actually come back?
[Molotov picks Brown to his feet.]
ID: Don't be daft, Jess. You could have said the same about Molotov. Both of these men are true champions, no matter what happens here.
JC: That one at least is right Duke. Molotov whips Karl into the corner, follows in slowly, now perching Karl on the top turnbuckle. I think we're going to see a superplex here.
ID: One of many moves we could see, Jess.
JC: Well yeah, but conventional wisdom... Molotov now climbing the turnbuckles, he's up to the first... second... and KARL BROWN STILL HAS SOME LIFE LEFT IN HIM! Right hand to the Russian assassin! Another right! Molotov can't fight back without losing his balance!
ID: He's in no man's land... if he holds on to the ropes, he can't defend himself. If he lets go, he falls!
JC: Karl winding up again...
[Brown nails Molotov with a third right, Molotov flies off the turnbuckles and the crowd EXPLODES!]
JC: Will you listen to this ovation for Karl Brown?
ID: I bloody love it, but he has to follow up!
JC: Karl's waiting for Molotov to get to his feet... I don't know if he should be biding his time like this.
ID: You said it before... calculated risks! He's bloody taking one right now!
JC: Molotov is up and...
[Brown leaps from the top doing a somersault motion.]
ID: BLOOOOODDDDY HEEEELLLLLLLL!!!
JC: DRAGONRANA! DRAGONRANA! DRAGONRANA! HOLY CRAP, KARL BROWN JUST HIT VICTOR MOLOTOV WITH THE DRAGONRANA!
[Crowd absolutely goes apesh*t.]
ID: What a move! It paid of... but why isn't he covering?
JC: I think this crowd... and Karl want to make sure Molotov is finished for good!
ID: But he already tried to hit the Dragon's Bite twice... Molotov has it scouted!
[Brown grabs Molotov to his feet, getting behind him and putting in a dragon sleeper.]
JC: I don't know. Maybe he thinks third time is a charm.... no! Molotov is fighting again...
[Brown quickly clubs Molotov across his chest and locks back in the sleeper.]
JC: That'll put him down... Karl goes up...
[CRASH~!]
JC: DRAGON'S BITE! DRAGON'S BITE! KARL BROWN FINALLY HIT THE DRAGON'S BITE! Cover...
...one...
...two...
....THREE!!!
[DING DING DING DING]
[Crowd explodes! Chapel takes off his headset and leaves the broadcast area.
ID: I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Karl Brown has bloody done it!
MD: Heeeeere is your winner.... and the 2005 Merritt Trophy Winner...
...Karl... "THE DRRRRRRRRAAAGGGGONNNNN..." ....BRRRROOOWWWWWNNNN!
ID: I... I am bloody speechless right now! Britannia rules the wrestling ring once again!
[The trophy people come down to the ring with the beautiful, three-tiered Merritt Trophy. Chapel, who'd been waiting for it, takes the trophy and enters the ring. He takes the microphone from Darling.]
JC: Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, it is my honor to present to you, the first ever Merritt Trophy winner, a man who went through five other men in five epic wars to earn this right. A man whom I am proud to say will be the first standard bearer for this trophy and for TEAM... KARL BROWN!
[Chapel hands the trophy over to Brown, who hoists it high to a hyoooge pop from the New York crowd.]
ID: That's the bloody most beautiful sight these eyes have ever seen! Congratulations Karl! England loves you! For Jess Chapel... I'm the Iron Duke! Thank you for watching the TEAM Invitational Tournament! Good night!
[Fade to black.]
JC: Welcome everyone to MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, home of the first place Prague Rangers, the last place New York Knicks and the finals of the TEAM INVITATIONAL TOURNAMENT! After several months of grueling competition and superstars from more than ten feds overall, two men have emerged to battle for the right to be called the first ever Merritt Trophy Winner. Those two men are Victor Molotov and Karl Brown. And us two men are Jess Chapel and the Iron Duke! Now Duke, both of these guys were not consensus favorites to be here. A lot of people had Dan Ryan or Beast or Hida Yakamo in these spots. Why do you think they're here?
ID: Well, I hate to sound like one of you bloody American clichés, but it was clear from the beginning that both Brown and Molotov wanted to be here more. They saw the opportunity to become top stars in the business by defeating other top stars, and they seized that opportunity by the shorthairs. Don't believe the rubbish that people have been saying. Karl Brown and Victor Molotov being here is no upset.
JC: I would agree with those sentiments, Duke. These two men fought so hard, and now, they're here, fighting for two different reasons, two different wills. Both of them seem to have something different driving them. Karl Brown wants to build himself and this sport up, while Victor Molotov seems hell-bent on tearing it down. Duke, which force do you think is going to prevail?
ID: Well, I'll be buggered if I can guess right now. Part of me thinks this Molotov fellow is spot on with his assessment of the game today, but me heart is pulling me towards my countryman to bring pride and honor back to the Empire.
JC: The Empire's been dead for years, Duke. Give it up.
ID: It's an expression, you bloody wanker.
JC: I know, but if you're going to cop out on me, I'm not going easy.
ID: Bloody hell Jess, I ought to crack you one, but I do value the paycheck I get each time one of these shows airs.
JC: Oh Duke, you know you could never hit me. But anyway, we've seen and heard so much from these two competitors over the last few months. The time for words is over, and now, we decide who wins this inaugural tournament. To the ring.
[Camera cuts to Marvin Darling, decked out in a tux with an old-style microphone hanging from the ceiling.]
MD: Helloooooo New York City!
[CHEAP POP~!]
MD: This match is scheduled for one fall, has no time limit an' is the final matchup in this TEAM Invitational Tournament! Introducin' first...
[Cue up "Ride of the Valkyries."]
MD: ...from Petrograd, Russia...
[Enter Victor Molotov to nuclear heel heat.]
MD: ...weighing in at two-hundred and fifty pounds... he's th' Purifier... Victorrrrr.... MOLOTOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVV!
[Cut to a shot of Molotov walking stoically towards the ring, ignoring the boos and eyes afixed on the ring.]
JC: Look at him Dukey. He's a man possessed, I mean he's plowed through some of the best this business has to offer.
ID: Blimey, the resumés of the chaps he's beaten outright are impressive enough, although I'm not sure whether to count Dan Ryan's refusal to face him as a strike against him or a plus for him, seeing that he had a veritable legend in the Ego Buster reluctant to get into the ring with him.
JC: Well Duke, I'm still not sure of what to make of that. But the point remains. Vic's here, and lemme tell you, the only way you can put him down for good is if you break his neck. He'll keep coming at you like a pitbull.
[Molotov enters the ring and awaits.
Cue up "Rainmaker. Crowd EXPLODES!]
MD: And his opponent, weighing in at two-hundred eleven pounds, from Nottingham, England...
[Enter Karl Brown as the fans get louder.]
MD: Karl... THE DRAAAAAAGON.... BRRRRRRROOOOWWWWWWNNNNNNN!!!!
JC: Listen to this New York crowd give it up for the Englishman!
ID: They obviously have good taste, Jess. Karl Brown is going to prove that the sun never sets on the British Empire.
JC: I knew I should have gotten that mute button off of Tony Reale when I had the chance.
ID: You bloody wanker!
[Duke shakes his fist.]
JC: Duke, JAAMMMARRRR isn't here, you can stop doing that.
ID: Hmph.
[Karl Brown enters the ring.]
JC: Alright, they're both in the ring, and referee Pat Jones, on loan from Empire Pro Wrestling as a gesture from Dan Ryan for skipping town on us, is ready to call for the bell.
[DING DING DING]
JC: And we're off!
[The crowd explodes as the two men circle each other.]
JC: You can cut the tension with a knife here, Duke. Neither of these men wants to make the first move, but they're just circling each other. Both men were talking a big game, but maybe the Garden has them a little jittery?
ID: Perhaps Duke. I know from experience, I wrestled at Wembley you know.
JC: Dark matches don't count Duke. [ID: Bloody hell!] But this one does, finally, we get a tie up, Molotov with the early advantage with the hammerlock. Fairly simple hold here.
ID: Simple, yet it'll rip your bloody arm off if you apply it enough.
JC: So true Duke, so true... oh man! Brown just snapmared Molotov with his free arm. Molotov had the move in well enough but he made the mistake of hooking the wrong arm there.
[Molotov gets up and shakes off as Brown smiles at him.]
ID: Opening match jitters, nothing more. Remember Jess, these two have never faced off before.
JC: Probably Duke. We all know about Molotov's proficiency in both wrestling and shootfighting as we see here the latter with that standing armbar.
ID: Molotov working those arms. Methinks he's trying make sure Karl can't bloody well grapple him.
JC: Maybe but... and Brown counters him again!
[Brown with an elbow to the gut and a shove. Molotov looking visibly angrier.]
JC: Man, Karl Brown is catching Victor Molotov sleeping early this match.
ID: I have to say, he's bloody clever. He's showing some of that Dukish cleverness.
JC: He's not related to you, Duke. For one, he doesn't have a club foot.
ID: Bloody hell!
JC: Another grapple and Molotov this time with the side headlock. Simple moves here...
ID: Simple but effective if used...
[Brown out of the headlock and counters to a rear waistlock.]
JC: Counter! Another counter! Brown behind Molotov, struggling to get him over or down, I'm not sure exactly what he's trying to do.
ID: I don't know either, but he's shaking him like one of our nannies.
JC: Duke, I didn't know you had it in you, but Karl's got something in him, pitbull tenacity... and he gets Molotov over with that Olympic style takeover.
ID: Bloody well he does! Great amatuer wrestling there from my countryman there.
JC: I'm impressed. Karl's been training a lot, I know this just from being in contact. Both these guys are prepared.
[At this point, Brown is looking at a recovering Molotov with a smirk on his face.]
ID: Well, as much as he is prepared, Karl better not get lazy with this Russian bloke or he'll tear him apart.
JC: I'd agree with that, and I don't like the look on Molotov's face. HE looks... pissed.
ID: No you wanker, you don't think?
JC: Well, yeah, although Karl can handle himself, and he'd better be ready to. Looks like we're going to see another collar and...
[WHACK~!]
JC: ...NO! Molotov fakes him out with that Mongolian chop, right to the base of Karl Brown's neck on both sides!
ID: Dirty pool! Dirty pool!
JC: Duke, nothing dirty about that. A little cheap, but totally legal. Karl's now reeling a bit, and Molotov follows up with a big clothesline. Brown is to the mat, and speaking of pitbull tenacity, Molotov straight to the canvas with a divebombing knee right to Brown's brow! That knee is a registered deadly weapon in three states. Thankfully for Molotov, New York isn't one of them.
ID: Ha ha, very funny, ho ho, it is to laugh.
JC: C'mon Dukey, you know you chortled.
ID: Chortle?
[Molotov covers.]
JC: And not even a two on before Karl Brown kicked out of that one. Way too early in the match.
ID: Never too early, you have to establish dominance early. Good strategy, although I hope Karl is able to bounce back.
JC: Such a homer, Duke. [ID: Wanker!] Karl slowly getting up...
[CRACK! Molotov with a boot right to Brown's face.]
JC: Karl Brown gets for free the dental work he never got in England as a child, courtesy of Molotov's size fourteen!
ID: British dental jokes... the height of comedy. [rolling his eyes]
JC: Oh Dukey, I didn't know you cared. Brown holding his face on the canvas, Molotov drops back off the ropes and...
[WHAM~! Knee across the bridge of Brown's nose.]
JC: And a nosejob to go with that dental work. I'd have to say, Karl Brown is coming down to Earth a bit.
ID: It's a bloody shame, but he'll bounce back. The British always do!
JC: Molotov feeling his oats and he's got another pin attempt...
...one...
...two...
...quick kickout at two. I have to say, this has been pretty competitive so far.
ID: Yes, although it hasn't been move for move even. They've each had their time in the sun so far.
JC: Yes, and it's still very early.
[Molotov dragging Brown to his feet.]
JC: Molotov with Brown, suplex... no, Karl flips over him and now he's got the Russian in a rear waistlock... back body... and no! Another flip over and Molotov is behind Brown! The Purifier with the victory roll... one... no! Not even one! Brown rolls through! Brown rolls through into a wheelbarrow and...
[Molotov counters the wheelbarrow suplex, twists around and grabs Brown in a front facelock.]
JC: ...and I don't know how, but Molotov just nailed him with a DDT!
ID: I'm bloody speechless, Jess.
JC: Victor Molotov stops to catch his breath, and this crowd is clapping for him despite the fact that he's a complete and utter douche to them.
ID: Wanker or not, this crowd will respect you if you can bring it. Molotov can bring it.
JC: That much is true, Dukey. No rest for the weary though, because that Russian pitbull is at it again.
[The dreaded REST HOLD OF DOOM~!... this time a sleeper, applied to Brown in the seated position.]
ID: Pitbull indeed Jess. Victor Molotov is rabid, bloody rabid in his quest to purify this sport, and to him, that means he has to be bloody relentless, like a detective from Scotland Yard.
[Brown reaches for the ropes but Molotov yanks him back.]
JC: I don't know why he thinks this sport needs purifying though. It's the guys like Karl Brown or Felix Red or Maggot, Beast, Ken Cloverleaf. It needs the cocky and flashy and the guys who fly and use the trash. I mean, sure, we need the technical marvels too, but if this sport had nothing but Molotovs or Jean Rabesques and Chris Benoits, it would be boring, quite frankly.
ID: I somewhat agree with you, but you even have to agree that to a point, Molotov has a bloody point.
[Brown is inching towards the ropes so slightly.]
JC: I will never agree with him on that. His mission sucks, and Karl Brown will prove that, even if he loses tonight, he'll never give up and never let this creep end his career. Even now, as he's in this hold, Karl's moving, fighting to get to the ropes.
ID: He is... I bloody hope he gets there too.
JC: Homer.
ID: Sod off! Let's go Karl! Let's go England!
JC: Shameless, even when you're rooting for the same guy I am, but steadily, he's getting there, getting to the ropes.
ID: Just an inch... just one bloody inch and he's got a break.
[Brown reaches and grabs the second rope. The crowd pops big.]
JC: And he's in the ropes, but Molotov isn't letting him go at all! C'mon ref, get in there! Three, four... finally! Molotov breaks!
ID: Bloody rubbish, he doesn't follow the rules!
JC: The letter of the law says he gets five before he gets tossed.
[Molotov brings Brown up to hands and knees.]
JC: It may be cheap, but it's legal. Just as legal as that double axehandle to the back of Karl Brown's neck.
ID: Karl's in a bad way right now. Bloody Norah, things aren't looking good for the Empire.
JC: Well, that's what happens when Molotov isn't into wasting time. I'm telling you, he's Pavlov's Pitbull.
ID: Right clever.
JC: And just like a pitbull, Molotov rips Karl to his feet into that front facelock.
[Molotov lifts Brown into a suplex peak.]
JC: Up and down HARD with that brainbuster! Not a suplex, but a friggin' brainbuster!
ID: I felt that back here.
JC: And Molotov is not going for the pin here. Instead, he's wrapping up Karl in that...
ID: Bloody hell? That's...
JC: That's a keylock! A keylock! He's got Karl Brown in that deadly shootfighting submission. That move... you can't last in that move without tapping furiously.
ID: But Karl's not tapping...
JC: ...yet Duke, yet. Although he is pretty close to the ropes. That's his best shot.
[Brown waves his free arm in the vicinity of the rope, almost there.]
ID: Come on! Come on!
JC: Duke, you can stop cheerleading now and at least pretend to be objective!
ID: I can't, the tension's too great!
JC: It is, he's a half an inch away from the ropes now and... yes! Karl Brown is in the ropes! And again, Victor Molotov is not letting go of the hold, although this time, it's a much deadlier hold!
ID: Bloody hell! Get him off! Get him off!
JC: He's at three again, and now at four, Molotov releases the hold! Karl Brown is gasping for air...
[Molotov stands up and just smirks like he's the cat who ate the canary.]
JC: ...and look at Molotov. He knows he's taking some cheap liberties. Everything he does is in the rules, but that doesn't make it not cheap.
ID: I told you! Bloody hell, you don't listen.
[Molotov yanks Brown to his feet.]
JC: I do listen Duke, but I don't cheerlead.
ID: Technicalities.
JC: Yeah... yeah.
[Another front facelock and suplex peak.]
JC: And here we go again, this time Molotov holding there, blood rushing to the head...
[WHAM~! Another buster.]
JC: And I'm certain that one's done Karl Brown in. Two vicious brainbusters sandwiching a keylock. I haven't seen punishment like this since UXW closed doors.
ID: Bloody hell! Britain is in national crisis, and all you care about is your flipping nostalgia kick?
JC: [ignoring the comment] Molotov actually covers this time...
...one...
...two...
...th... NO! No, Karl Brown kicks out at about two and a half.
ID: Thank God!
[Molotov yanks Brown to his feet again into a front facelock.]
JC: Well, don't go thanking the Lord yet, because Pavlov's Pitbull is about ready to bite again...
ID: Bloody hel... NO... err... YES!
[Just as Duke says "errr... YES!" Brown reverses the third brainbuster at its height into a sunset flip pin attempt.]
JC: One...
...two...
...Molotov reverses up from the pin and just pops to his feet! [Cringes]
[Molotov stomps Brown right in the neck.]
JC: Christ Jesus! Every time Karl Brown seems to catch a break, Molotov just cuts him off like my Uncle Jimmy at the bar on paynight.
ID: Lousy Irish...
JC: Duke!... ugh... man, Molotov right back to the attack, this is looking more like a one-sixteen blowout than a classic final match.
[Molotov hits Brown with a swinging neckbreaker.]
JC: ...and now we're back to that keylock. Jesus, Molotov is serious about ending Brown's career here, and even though he is a little sloppy again being that close to the ropes, it doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter, he'll keep it locked in for an extra four seconds and claim to be following the rules to the letter.
ID: Well I know, but that's what he does. He's fanatical, and while I can't bloody blame him in some cases, I don't see how Karl Brown fits his mold.
JC: Mold or not, this is a sick quest.
[Brown locks his arm into the bottom rope.]
JC: And I'm not even going to get indignant anymore. This... I can't fathom why someone could be so hell-bent on something to want to destroy it.
[At four, Molotov releases the hold.]
ID: Well, nothing we can do but call this. Although I'm about ready to head out for tea.
JC: You can't leave Duke, you can't leave 'til it's over. That might be soon the way this is going.
[Another stomp to the head of Karl Brown.]
JC: This match is legalized homicide. And now Molotov's about ready to finish him off.
ID: I can't watch.
JC: Rear facelock and now, the rest of that hold is aca.... no, wait! Karl's got some fight left in him!
[Brown elbows Molotov in the gut.]
ID: Don't toy with me!
JC: Get your hands off your eyes.
[Another elbow, and another, and another until Brown is free.]
JC: Karl Brown is free from what I can only gather was an attempt for that Purifying Scourge. And now a snapmare! My God, Karl's not dead! He winds up...
[CRACK! Kick to the back of Molotov.]
JC: And the kick is good! Jets win! Jets win! Molotov holding his back and this deflated crowd finally has some air into it.
ID: I never thought I'd be leading a bunch of filthy New Yorkers in a cheer, but...
[Duke gets up and turns around to the crowd behind him.]
ID and CROWD: LET'S GO KARL!
[THUMP THUMP THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!]
ID and CROWD: LET'S GO KARL!
[THUMP THUMP THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!]
JC: Alright, you can stop that! Objectivity!
[Molotov to his feet wobbily, and Brown standing in wait.]
JC: It's Karl Brown's turn to play hunter here, stalking, waiting... Molotov turns around and now... belly to bel... awww no!
[Molotov blocks and counters with a belly to belly of his own. You can audibly hear the crowd DEFLATE at that.]
JC: I can't believe it! No matter what Karl Brown does he can't seem to get ahead!
[Molotov flips Brown over on his belly and applies a rear naked choke.]
ID: Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Bloody flipping hell!
JC: Molotov with another shootfighter hold and now he's rolling on his back. I think that's a rear naked choke with scissors... things aren't looking good now...
ID: A choke! A choke! That's bloody illegal!
JC: Duke, we went through this in the Beast/Molotov match. That's a legal hold, and... oh my Christ...
[CRACK! With his free arm, Molotov clubs Brown in the chest.]
JC: Molotov attacking the respiratory system here full on, at the passage where the air gets in in the throat and the lungs where it's processed. Molotov doesn't want Karl to breath anymore.
ID: Sickening. I can't stomach this.
JC: This is starting to...
[THWIP! Block'd! With his own free arm, Brown blocks a concussive blow from Molotov.]
JC: Brown's fighting back! Brown's a fighter! Swatting away the blows! And now he's rocking the boat!
ID: There's no quit in Karl Brown! Just like there's no quit in the Emp...
JC: We know Dukey, we know, the sun won't set, but in the ring, Karl Brown's nearly got the momentum to get into the ropes...
[Crowd pops!]
JC: He's in the ropes and this time he breaks the hold with the momentum!
ID: Finally, he shan't be able to stay 'til four.
JC: Molotov is up to his feet, and...
[Brown somehow finds the strength to swivel on his belly and swing around to trip up Molotov on his own belly.]
ID: BLLLOOOOODY HELLL!
JC: Molotov tripped up! And now it's time for Karl Brown to get in on submission action! Achilles lock!
ID: Bloody good show!
JC: Karl Brown's got that locked in... but Molotov's got too much left and too much of his body is free! He's moving around, up to his knee.
[Molotov swivels on his knee, breaking the lock on his ankle and getting to his feet, facing Brown.]
JC: I can't believe it, not only is he a brutal shootfighting killer, but he's got some mobility with that fused spine.
ID: Whatever it is they put in his bloody vodka, I want it.
JC: Molotov on one foot, Brown with the other, and I don't know how he's going to...
[CRACK~! Molotov's foot meets Brown's head.]
JC: And I don't know how, but a man with two fused vertabrae just nailed Karl Brown with an enzugiri. Now I've seen it all.
ID: I can't bloody believe it.
JC: Neither can this crowd. Victor Molotov has done what only the New York Knicks have been able to do this past year, and that's silence the Garden.
ID: Blimey, and I thought we were going to use the word "defecate" on air for the first time.
[Molotov grabs Brown into a standing headscissors.]
JC: No Duke, Beau Michaels was eliminated in Portland, and it looks like Karl Brown is going to be eliminated here. From New York to Memphis... PILEDRIVER! Karl Brown flops to the canvas like a dying fish, and now Molotov with the cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! NO! Karl Brown kicks out! Karl Brown kicks out!
ID: I can't believe it! He's like a bloody sponge for pain!
JC: He's got one hell of a will to win.
[Molotov brings Brown to his feet.]
JC: But a will to win won't do enough, not without some offense. Molotov looks like he's...
[POKE! Out of nowhere, Brown gouges Molotov's eyes.]
JC: ...HOLY CRAP! HOLY CRAP! Karl Brown just raked the eyes of Victor Molotov! He just raked the eyes and this crowd loves it!
ID: I don't think I'd ever be so happy to see an Englishman cheat!
JC: Molotov holding his face, staggering around the ring while Karl Brown catches his breath. This crowd is buzzing, and Molotov turns around...
[BOOT! DDT!]
ID: BLOODY NORAH! YES!
JC: Molotov gets spiked! And finally, Karl Brown has something going!
ID: This is a match again! Karl Brown is back in it!
[Brown stands, eyes on Molotov, catching a breather while Molotov recovers.]
JC: And that's the best part about wrestling. There is no score, the momentum can change at any time, and when it does, the match can end in an instant! Fifty point shots and...
[Molotov stands up, back facing Brown.]
ID: And I think we're going to see one here...
[BACK SUPLEX~! Crowd goes bat****.]
JC: I don't believe it! Molotov spiked on the canvas again and now the tides have turned. Molotov using the ropes to climb to his feet, but Brown's there, stalking his prey.
ID: Karl is so very calculating.
JC: And if I were Victor Molotov, I wouldn't turn around...
[CRACK! Dropkick right to Molotov's face.]
JC: HATE TO SAY I TOLD YOU SO VICTOR EM! And now the mad Russian is sent to the outside! This crowd is going nuts!
[Announcer quiet for thirty seconds as the fans go bonkers for Brown as he stands in the ring, eyes on Molotov.]
JC: Listen to these Noo Yawkaz, Duke!
ID: I am, I am, and for once, I'm in agreeance with the bloody mouth-breathers!
JC: New York, that's about as close to a compliment as the Iron Duke is gonna give you! Molotov shakes out the cobwebs and slides back into the ring, and it's almost like we're back at square one.
ID: Only both men have a lot taken out of them.
JC: Yeah, and I have to wonder, even though he's come back nicely, how much does Karl Brown have left?
ID: We'll, we're bloody going to find out!
JC: You're right, Dukey. Collar and elbow tie up and... a boot to the gut of Molotov! That refresher didn't do him much good, cuz Karl has him in that front chancery, like a reverse dragon sleeper.
ID: With all due respect, the chancery was around first.
JC: I'm just going to ignore that Duke. But what I'm not going to ignore is that finally, Karl is able to be the one wearing Molotov down instead of the other way around. Restricting the bloodflow to Molotov's head, taking away his most valuable asset, that brain.
ID: And it's so refreshing to have two intelligent buggers in a match rather than one smartie and a dullard like Beast.
JC: Be nice, Dukey. Call the match at hand, cuz we have a good one.
ID: Blah.
JC: Don't blah me. Your homeslice is draining the life out of Molotov and after b*tching this whole match that he was losing, you can't cheer him on rather than make fun of folks who aren't even here?
ID: Like I said... bloody blah.
JC: Jesus... Brown's got that hold cinched in tight... no, wait! Molotov got his arm free and he's punching Karl in the gut!
ID: Bloody hell, I jinxed 'im.
JC: Two, three, four shots to the gut, winding up for another and... no! Karl with a kick to the gut and a DDT!
ID: Jolly good show!
[Molotov holds his head, while Brown lays on the canvas.]
JC: And both these men seem spent. I wonder how long this match will go on for...
[Suddenly, Brown kips up, ala HBK.]
ID: Bloody good show!
JC: I just don't know where he got it from. He's gotta have something extra.
[Brown goes over to Molotov and drags him to his feet.]
ID: He's English. He's a born and bred winner, no matter what odds.
JC: Don't feed me that crap Duke, it has nothing to do with his Englishness. He's a warrior though, and he's going for a suplex here... no! Molotov slips behind Karl and now he's got him in a back body... no! NO! Brown slips out now, grabs Molotov on the way down and...
[CRASH! Reverse DDT!]
ID: BLOODY HELL!!
JC: Bloody hell indeed! I'm dumbfounded, not just by Karl, but by Molotov too, some of the stuff he's pulled out of his behind, and... this may be the best match I've ever seen, and I was there when Beast and Torment nearly killed themselves in a Hell in the Cell...
[Brown heads over to the corner.]
JC: ...I was there when Promo and Rat kicked each others' asses in a friggin' Burger King drive-through. I've seen it all.
[Brown climbs the ropes.]
JC: ...and this is just... this is up there, man, it's at least up there, like Brown is now.
ID: AAAAAIIIIIIRRR BRITTTTANNNNNIAAAA!!!!
[Brown leaps.]
JC: GUILLOTINE LEG DROP! He nearly decapitated Victor Molotov! Cover...
...one...
...two...
...and Molotov kicks out! Good Lord, I am spent, and I still think these two have a ton more wrestling left in them.
[Brown to his knees, breathing heavily, then gets to his feet and grabs Molotov to his.]
ID: You're telling me. These are two bloody iron men.
JC: Irish whip on Molotov, Brown with the lariat and Molotov ducks it. Brown turns around and THESZ PRESS! Molotov just hit him with that Lou Thesz press! The momentum swing again!
[Molotov starts raining down forearms on Brown's face.]
ID: Now that's a bloody interesting variation.
JC: Can't you see that Duke? Instead of closed fists, he's raining forearms, techincally legal. This a little less cheap than before, but that ultimate fighting style move, just punishing. And now Pat Jones steps in and he's breaking it up. Molotov obliges, albeit reluctantly.
ID: That ought to be illegal.
JC: C'mon Duke, you can't go arbitrarily deciding what moves are legal or not. Let 'em go, this isn't a round of golf at Augusta.
[Molotov grabs Brown to his feet and gets behind him.]
ID: But that's excessive.
JC: Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. All I know is, as much as we don't like it, Karl Brown got that and is about ready to get a German suplex.
ID: Bloody hel.... NOOO... err... YESS!!!
JC: I don't believe it! Karl Brown flips out of the hold and lands on his feet! Molotov just realized that and turns around...
[CRASH~!]
JC: DROPKICK! Right in Molotov's teeth! The Russian to the canvas like a sack of bricks! This crowd is going nuts!
ID: And I'm going bonkers myself!
[Brown picks Molotov right up.]
JC: I've learned to live with that, Dukey, you big homer you.
ID: Am not!
JC: Are too... and side Russian leg sweep on the Russian assassin. How á propós.
ID: Don't you go using those bloody French phrases on me now. I'll kill you!
[Brown up and at the head of Molotov.]
JC: Thanks Dukey, I didn't know you cared, but all that aside, Karl Brown putting the boots to Molotov right in his skull. I guess those boots are made for stompin', eh?
ID: After taking blows like that, I wouldn't be surprised if Molotov's brain turned into Yorkshire pudding.
JC: Gross Duke, but I still think you're neat. Karl now sitting Molotov up from behind and... HENNIG SPECIAL! That flipover neckbreaker, it's quick but deadly.
ID: Shades of two late greats there, as Eddy Guerrero was fond of that move too.
[Brown goes to Molotov's upper body to pick him up.]
JC: Yep, and now it looks like Karl's going to go back for more... no! Molotov just rolled Karl into an inside cradle! I don't believe it!
ID: Bloody hell! He's some weird pitbull/cockroach hybrid!
[Count of two before Brown reverses the cradle to his own advantage.]
JC: Wait a second! Karl reversed it! Now he's got the cradle in... two... and Molotov kicks out. Jesus Christ man, I think I'm going to have to go to my cardiologist after this match.
[Brown picks Molotov to his feet.]
ID: I don't know, maybe if you stopped eating those bloody biscuits and chicken, you wouldn't have palpitations!
[Brown Irish whip on Molotov.]
JC: But they're sooo goooood. Molotov charging in and Karl with the lariat... DUCKED! Molotov just stopped dead in his tracks! Backslide...
...one...
...two...
...Karl kicks out! Just when you think he's got the momentum for good, Molotov always finds a way to creep back in.
[Both men get up a little slowly.]
ID: Bloody hell, I am beside myself right now.
JC: I think this crowd is too, and now both men back to their feet in what I can only describe as a war so far. Karl winds up for a punch, and it's blocked! Molotov counters with a chop...
CROWD: WOOOO!
JC: ...and he follows it up with an Irish whip, Karl off the ropes and Molotov with the monkey flip... NO! Karl blocks it!
ID: Begorrah! Is he going to whip out the old Birmingham Crab?
JC: That's Boston Crab, spank you very much, and I don't think so. He's leaning back a bit, we might see an old-fashioned catapult here!
ID: You're bloody right, Jess.
[Brown leans back, sending Molotov flying.]
JC: BOOOOMMMMBS AWAAAAAYYYY! Molotov just landed throat first on the top rope!
ID: Un-bloody-believable!
JC: Un-bloody-believable is right, Duke, and now Karl grabs a back-stumbling Molotov in a full nelson... DRAGON SUPLEX FROM THE DRAGON! With a bridge to boot...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! No! Victor Molotov just kicked out. I thought that could have been the match there.
[Brown flips Molotov over onto his belly.]
ID: Well Jess, as much as I would have liked it, Molotov still has a bloody large amount of fight left in him. He's driven by his mission too much.
[Brown locks in an STF on Molotov.]
ID: He won't stop until he's either crippled Karl Brown and in his mind, the Stygian Beast known as EPW, or until he himself has been crippled.
JC: Well, the way both of these warriors have been working each other's heads, they might both be crippled afterwards, and I'm sure this STF isn't going to help matters for one Victor Molotov.
ID: ANd that not only works the neck, but the chest and abdominals as well.
JC: Wow, good color analysis. I didn't know you had it in you Duke.
ID: Of course I bloody well did, Jess. Don't underestimate you.
JC: It's hard not to sometimes, Dukey. [ID: Bloody hell!] Molotov is getting closer to the ropes though, he might break the hold.
ID: Bloody hell, keep him away from the ropes, Karl!
JC: There goes that cheerleading streak again, Dukey. Molotov is reaching for the ropes and... he's in, he's in the ropes and well look at this, Karl Brown just broke the hold immediately.
ID: He's up and smirking, Jess. I wonder if he did that just to send a message to Molotov?
JC: No doubt he did, Dukey.
[Brown drags Molotov to his feet.]
JC: And no doubt he plans on continuing the punishment now. Looks like Molotov is about to be served up a nice, juicy T-bone steak... no! Molotov slipped out at the height of the suplex!
ID: Slippery bastard!
JC: Molotov behind and... back suplex, Karl Brown landing right on his neck!
ID: Every time... Begorrah, he's too tenacious.
[Molotov to his feet, grabbing Karl to his by his head.]
JC: He's very tenacious, and that plus his warped frame of mind... I fear what would happen if he actually got a chance to be loosed in a major promotion. Molotov now positioning himself to Brown's side...
[CRASH~! Molotov with the tear drop suplex at a very high angle to Brown.]
ID: Bloody hell!
JC: Good God! I think Molotov just killed Karl Brown. I think he completed his mission, because that suplex was ESS-EYE-SEE-KAY SICK! The pitbull with a cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out! He kicks out! He can't be alive... he's gotta be a zombie or something.
[Molotov drags Brown to his feet.]
ID: He's nothing of the sort, Jess. He's English! He's tough!
JC: Both these men are tough. Molotov now looking for some more punishment, and he's got that front facelock in tight. Could we see another brainbuster here?
ID: Maybe we will, maybe we won't...
JC: ...or maybe we'll see Karl Brown counter that into a Nothern Lights suplex, my friggin' Lord...
...one...
...two...
...th... no! Molotov kicks out! I can't believe this match! Just when you think it's going one way, it takes a sharp turn.
ID: Well, I can tell you one thing. I bet that wanker Molotov believes now that this match wouldn't be as easy as thrashing that fan last week.
[Brown is up, leaning against the ropes for a breather. Molotov struggles to get up.]
JC: That was a despicable act, Dukey, and even if he wins this match, Karl Brown will have made him pay for it. Both men are up now, and they seem to be taking a little breather... no wait, Molotov was faking it! Lunges at Karl... Karl caught him! Karl caught him! Fujiwara armbar!
ID: Brilliant awareness by Karl here!
JC: These two men are giving it their all, and neither man deserves to lose this match, even if Molotov is a soulless assassin, who's now in the ropes and Karl once again breaks immediately and cleanly!
ID: Haha, I love it! Molotov is all buggered now, Karl is really under his skin.
JC: Karl dragging Molotov to his feet and a Rude Awakening style neckbreaker. I think I heard a vertebra snap in Molotov's neck. Karl covers...
...one...
...two...
...no! Molotov kicks out, and Karl wastes no time floating to Molotov's head and locking in a seated sleeperhold.
ID: All these bloody sleepers, I'm starting to get a bit drowsy!
JC: Don't you dare fall asleep on me, Duke. We've made it this far, don't quit on me yet.
ID: I'm not, I'm not. No matter how this match ends, I want to be here to see whether it's my countryman who stands tall, or whether it's the Russian who completes his mission.
JC: Good form, Duke. Good form. And Molotov is showing some good form here, up on his knee, trying to power out of this sleeperhold.
ID: This bugger... he just won't quit!
JC: Did you expect him to, Dukey? He made it to the finals, and just like neither one of us expects Karl to quit, Molotov shouldn't be expected to either. Molotov now to his feet struggling to get out... no! Karl saw it and dropped the hammer on him with that sleeperdrop!
ID: Bloody Norah!
JC: Karl pops right back to his feet, off the ropes and elbow drop right across Molotov's throat! Cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! No! Victor Molotov kicks out! Karl Brown is to his feet and he's signaling to the crowd.
ID: He's going to do it! He's going to finish Molotov!
JC: That's what it looks like because he's got Molotov locked in that dragon sleeper now. We're going to see the Dragon's Bite!
ID: Holy Begorrah.... bloody hell!
[Before Brown can lift Molotov for the move, Molotov deftly maneuvers, twisting around and countering with a DDT.]
JC: Bloody hell indeed, Dukey! Of all the counters... holy crap, I can't believe I just saw that, Victor Molotov escaping certain doom, and now both men are on the canvas!
ID: I can't take it anymore. I'm bloody drained, Jess. Bloody drained.
JC: You and me both, Dukey, but I really don't think the end is in sight.
[Molotov sits up as the ref Pat Jones breaks his count at six.]
JC: I mean, these two men must have an infinite reserve of will to win. Molotov is up now and... good Lord! Shades of Mr. Hyde here with that Beastslayer!
ID: A bloody Regal Stretch!
JC: Molotov stretching the life out of Karl Brown. I mean, this man is a master of submissions, and slowly but surely, he's worn the Dragon down to the point where I wouldn't be surprised to see him tap with every passing second.
ID: Karl Brown will never tap! A Briton doesn't give up!
JC: Unless that Briton is you, right Dukey?
ID: Pipe down you bloody wanker! I'm rallying the troops!
JC: Well, the troops do need to be rallied for Karl, because he's being stretched. Still, he's close to the ropes. He just needs to get in the ropes.
ID: Bah, what's the use, Molotov will just keep the hold locked in until Pat Jones counts bloody five.
JC: That may be the case, but at least after those seconds, he'd be out of the hold without having to tap, and that's more than I can say for him now. But he's getting closer, closer...
ID: Almost there!
JC: And... he's there! He's in the ropes and... holy crap! Molotov with the clean, immediate break!
ID: I don't flipping believe it!
JC: Neither do I! The only explanation I can think of is that Karl doing it finally got to Molotov mentally. I'd call this a moral victory for Karl Brown, but right now, moral victories mean as much as being armed with a Bowie knife in a nuclear war.
[Molotov grabs Brown to his feet in a front waistlock.]
JC: Molotov looking for the belly to... NO! Karl with the headbutt! Breaks loose from the waistlock and now.... LARIATO!
[Crowd explodes.]
ID: My word!
JC: Brown to his feet and he's looking over to the corner with the approval of this crowd. I think you're going to have to bust out the Air Britannia call again, Dukey.
[Brown heads over to the ropes swiftly and climbs.]
ID: I don't know. He can't be going to the well too many times, but if he hits this move, the match could be over.
JC: But he has to hit it, I agree, and he's on the top. Leaps with the splash and... NO! Molotov moved! Molotov moved! Karl flips on his back and Molotov with the quick cover...
...one...
...two...
...Karl kicks out!
ID: I knew it, I told you, he shouldn't have gone.
[Molotov up and brings Brown to his feet.]
JC: Well Dukey, hindsight is twenty/twenty, but you can't win matches unless you take calculated risks. This one just didn't pay off, and now Molotov is in control. Double underhook and textbook butterfly suplex. Molotov back over with that Pavlov Pitbull tenacity and he sits Karl up into an abdominal stretch.
ID: If he wasn't seated, I'd think maybe he was segueing into the Molotov Cocktail.
JC: Well, maybe he is, I don't know, but for now, he's working the neck and abs with this hold.
ID: Either way, things do not look peachy for Karl.
JC: Well, that's been the case most of this match, but Karl has been fighting back. Same thing with Molotov, hell, both of these guys.
ID: I know, Jess.
JC: Wait a second, Karl's showing a second wind.
[Brown starts to push his shoulders back and get some leverage.]
ID: Wouldn't that be his fourth or fifth bloody wind?
[Brown is up on one knee as Molotov's grip on the hold is breaking.]
JC: Christ Duke, can't you let me make an analogy in peace?
ID: Bloody never, Mr. "I can't stop calling Duke a homer."
JC: You are a petty man, Duke, but Karl is about to be a free man... yes! He's out of the hold and he gets behind Molotov in a rear waistlock... BIG GERMAN SUPLEX! Molotov rolling over on his stomach and once again, Karl Brown is on the hunt!
ID: Be still my beating heart!
[Brown up and now looking over Molotov's upper back, sizing it up.]
JC: I'm with you on this one Duke, but it's worth it. I guarantee you that, whoever wins this Merritt Trophy will have deserved it.
[Brown with one knee drop on Molotov.]
JC: Brown must want to literally break Molotov's back here, he lands another knee to that back, and now another.
ID: Three knees!
JC: You can rhyme, Dukey, and he's going for a fourth... no, Molotov rolls out of the way, but Brown stops short! He leans back and... ELBOW DROP! Right across Molotov's chest! He outsmarted the assassin there!
ID: Bloody right he did!
JC: And now a cover...
...one...
...two...
...th... no! Molotov kicks out! He kicks out! You can see the frustration start to set in on both men, on Karl for not being able to finish and on Molotov for not being able to keep up the dominance he had earlier on in the match, for letting it slip away like this.
[Brown lifts Molotov up to his feet. Irish whip.]
ID: But one thing you need to remember, like you said earlier...
JC: TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER! Big move here and Karl with another pin attempt...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! Kickout! As you were saying Dukey?
[Brown slams the mat and kneels up.]
ID: Well, I was saying, like you said earlier in the match, there is no score in these matches, so momentum shifts are huge.
[Brown picks Molotov up again and another Irish whip.]
JC: That is correct. Molotov could get back in this match at any moment, but now he's totally not in it, as Karl with the step-through neckbreaker out of the Irish whip this time. Another cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! Another kickout, this one with a little more authority than the last one!
ID: I'm telling you, there bloody has to be something in his damn vodka!
[Brown pounds the mat again but this time gets right up, grabbing Molotov with him.]
JC: Maybe there is, and maybe there isn't, although whatever's left will be gone if Karl hits the Dragon's Bite here like he wants to...
ID: C'mon Karl, c'mon...
JC: NO! Molotov with one elbow, but Karl still holding on for dear life, another elbow... one more, the rear facelock is broken... ACE CRUSHER! ACE CRUSHER! Victor Molotov just hit Karl Brown with an ace crusher and he again escapes near defeat!
ID: I've compared him to a pitbull and a cockroach tonight... dare I bloody call the wanker the Russian Houdini?
[Brown on the canvas, holding his head, Molotov kneeling up, taking a small breather.]
JC: I don't know Dukey. I just don't know anymore. Molotov is up, leaning on the ropes, while Karl is struggling to get up after taking that stunning move right to his chin.
ID: Molotov should have covered when he had the chance.
[Brown getting up to the ropes, leaning on them.]
JC: Easy to say that, Duke, but you don't know what physical condition he's in. He's been through a war tonight. Both men now up and approaching each other in the middle of the ring...
[PUNT!]
JC: ...Molotov with a DDT! He covers...
...one...
...two...
..thr... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out! Molotov can't believe it!
ID: Neither can bloody Molotov!
[Molotov storms to his feet.]
JC: You're right, he's beside himself, Dukey. Pavlov's Pitbull stomping Karl's head like a winemaker stomps his grapes.
ID: Bloody hell, if he wasn't trying to kill Karl before, he certainly is now.
JC: Molotov bounces back off the ropes... KNEE DROP! Drops the knee right across Karl's forehead, and I think he's dead.
ID: You've been saying that all match, and he keeps coming back. I wouldn't hire you to be my bloody coroner.
JC: That's good, because this is the only job I love. Molotov covers...
...one...
...two...
...th... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out!
ID: I bloody told you!
[Molotov slaps the canvas and has a word with Pat Jones.]
JC: Alive, yes, but after all the punishment he's taken, do you think he can actually come back?
[Molotov picks Brown to his feet.]
ID: Don't be daft, Jess. You could have said the same about Molotov. Both of these men are true champions, no matter what happens here.
JC: That one at least is right Duke. Molotov whips Karl into the corner, follows in slowly, now perching Karl on the top turnbuckle. I think we're going to see a superplex here.
ID: One of many moves we could see, Jess.
JC: Well yeah, but conventional wisdom... Molotov now climbing the turnbuckles, he's up to the first... second... and KARL BROWN STILL HAS SOME LIFE LEFT IN HIM! Right hand to the Russian assassin! Another right! Molotov can't fight back without losing his balance!
ID: He's in no man's land... if he holds on to the ropes, he can't defend himself. If he lets go, he falls!
JC: Karl winding up again...
[Brown nails Molotov with a third right, Molotov flies off the turnbuckles and the crowd EXPLODES!]
JC: Will you listen to this ovation for Karl Brown?
ID: I bloody love it, but he has to follow up!
JC: Karl's waiting for Molotov to get to his feet... I don't know if he should be biding his time like this.
ID: You said it before... calculated risks! He's bloody taking one right now!
JC: Molotov is up and...
[Brown leaps from the top doing a somersault motion.]
ID: BLOOOOODDDDY HEEEELLLLLLLL!!!
JC: DRAGONRANA! DRAGONRANA! DRAGONRANA! HOLY CRAP, KARL BROWN JUST HIT VICTOR MOLOTOV WITH THE DRAGONRANA!
[Crowd absolutely goes apesh*t.]
ID: What a move! It paid of... but why isn't he covering?
JC: I think this crowd... and Karl want to make sure Molotov is finished for good!
ID: But he already tried to hit the Dragon's Bite twice... Molotov has it scouted!
[Brown grabs Molotov to his feet, getting behind him and putting in a dragon sleeper.]
JC: I don't know. Maybe he thinks third time is a charm.... no! Molotov is fighting again...
[Brown quickly clubs Molotov across his chest and locks back in the sleeper.]
JC: That'll put him down... Karl goes up...
[CRASH~!]
JC: DRAGON'S BITE! DRAGON'S BITE! KARL BROWN FINALLY HIT THE DRAGON'S BITE! Cover...
...one...
...two...
....THREE!!!
[DING DING DING DING]
[Crowd explodes! Chapel takes off his headset and leaves the broadcast area.
ID: I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Karl Brown has bloody done it!
MD: Heeeeere is your winner.... and the 2005 Merritt Trophy Winner...
...Karl... "THE DRRRRRRRRAAAGGGGONNNNN..." ....BRRRROOOWWWWWNNNN!
ID: I... I am bloody speechless right now! Britannia rules the wrestling ring once again!
[The trophy people come down to the ring with the beautiful, three-tiered Merritt Trophy. Chapel, who'd been waiting for it, takes the trophy and enters the ring. He takes the microphone from Darling.]
JC: Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, it is my honor to present to you, the first ever Merritt Trophy winner, a man who went through five other men in five epic wars to earn this right. A man whom I am proud to say will be the first standard bearer for this trophy and for TEAM... KARL BROWN!
[Chapel hands the trophy over to Brown, who hoists it high to a hyoooge pop from the New York crowd.]
ID: That's the bloody most beautiful sight these eyes have ever seen! Congratulations Karl! England loves you! For Jess Chapel... I'm the Iron Duke! Thank you for watching the TEAM Invitational Tournament! Good night!
[Fade to black.]