Post by Jman2k3 on Nov 20, 2017 6:30:30 GMT
Bronson Box vs. Scott Stevens
The lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area. The video screen lights up and flashes across the screen a Texas flag, with the words, “Texas Born. Texas Bred.” “Texas Forever.“ branded into the flag. The crowd reaction is mixed, but there are more cheers than boos, as the opening guitar riffs and Hellraiser by Motorhead begins to play throughout the PA system.
Blackfront: Here comes a man still looking to really establish himself here in the UTA.
Ace: Stevens came here with a big reputation, Jason, but he’s done little to justify the hype thus far. He can make a huge statement if he puts Boxer away tonight, but it’s a tall order…
Blackfront: Stevens is looking to make it two televised wins in a row for the first time in his UTA career here, and he’s coming-off an absolute shellacking of Skylar Montgomery. He sees being drafted to Wrestleshow as a real “fresh start,” and you’re right: winning tonight would be a huge statement-maker.
The cheers intensify as the chorus hits the speakers, drawing out the man from Texas.
Announcer: Introducing at this time, coming to us from the Great State of Texas, by way of Houston…
Walking down the aisle, he fists bumps some of his fans while raising a fist at a few of the more vocal bashers.
Announcer: Standing at six feet, six inches, and weighing in at two hundred and fifty-six pounds...
As he finally gets to the ring, he climbs the nearest turnbuckle and stares down at his opponent.
Announcer: This...is....SCOTTTTTTTTTTTTT STEEEEEEEEEEEVENSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!
An icy glare and the throat slash gesture his only actions as he drops to the mat.
Ace: The guy clearly means business, and he comes with decent pedigree, I’m just not sure where he’s headed at the moment.
Blackfront: Let’s not forget that this is just the second show following the brand split, Tommy. Stevens is a superb professional wrestler, and he has as big a change of making an impact as anybody.
Lights all around the arena start shutting off one by one. When the big overhead lights shut off with a clunk the crowd pops simply for the sudden darkness. A whistling wind is heard, a hush falls over the arena. When the driving beat the man in black starts up, the fans perk back up. A few cheers, mostly derision from the UTA fans. When the lyrics to Johnny Cash’s God’s Gunna’ Cut You Down kick in, the whole arena rises up in one clear voice.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Blackfront: You wanna talk about having a point to prove? Last time we saw Box, he took a big loss to Kendrix, who, of course, belongs to Dynasty: a faction the battle-hardened Scotsman has no love lost for…
Ace: Box is gonna be piiiiiissssed, Jason! I can’t wait to see him conduct his symphony of destruction tonight. By the time this one’s over, the canvas is gonna be stained red with Texan blood!
Announcer: Now making his waaaaaaaaay to the ring! Hailing from the highlands of Scotlaaaaand. Weighing in tonight at two hundred and forty three pounds…
The lights come back on with a pop. Already standing on the ring apron, big as life and dressed for war. The Wargod. The Original Defiant. His name arching across the front of his tights.
Announcer: … BRONSOOOOOOOOOOOOON BOX!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Boxer closes his eyes and soaks in the reaction from the UTA fans.
Ace: I wouldn’t wanna be Scott Stevens at the moment, Jason! Box seems clam enough now, but as soon as that bell rings… phew!
Blackfront: An unenviable position, for sure, but you’re seriously selling Scott Stevens short here! His record’s been indifferent, but this match is just as important to him as it is Box. He’s gonna give it his all tonight.
As the music fades Bronson slowly climbs between the top and second rope, then takes-off as soon as he puts boot to canvas.
Blackfront: Wait a minute!
Boxer’s all over Stevens from the get-go, catching the Texan off-guard and clobbering his opponent with a barrage of hard lefts and rights!
Ace: Looks like Bronson didn’t wanna wait for the bell!
Powerless to separate the marauding Box from the big Texan, the referee shakes his head and calls for the bell. The match is underway, and Box has Stevens backed into a corner. After clobbering him with a hard forearm to the jaw, Bronson knees Stevens in the stomach then pulls him away from the turnbuckles by the hair. A hard elbow to the back of the skull puts Stevens to one knee, and a knee to the forehead knocks him down outright.
Blackfront: Bronson Box has come-out here like a cyclone of rage and violence! I thought he’d come-out strong, but this is insane!
Ace: It’s beautiful, Jason! That’s what it is!
The Scot doesn’t let-up for a second, stomping Scott Stevens multiple times before dropping to the mat and throwing several closed fists right into his face. The referee tires to warn him, but Boxer isn’t even listening.
Blackfront: He’s gotta be careful here, y’know – our official can easily disqualify him if he keeps this up.
Ace: “Careful”? I don’t think Boxer knows the meaning of the word.
By the time the announcers are finished babbling, Boxer has pushed the Texan out of the ring. Stevens is back on his feet, but he eats a right hand and a big double axe-handle. Unrelenting with the pressure, Box forces him up against the barricade, gripping Steven’s throat, then jamming both fingers into his eyes!
Blackfront: Blatant eye gouge from Boxer! Come on, referee! Do something!
Sure enough, the official bravely throws himself between Bronson and Stevens, but Box hasn’t got time for that nonsense. He pushes the referee aside mid-admonishment then goes right back at Stevens by grabbing his head, pulling him to the ring, and slamming his forehead against the apron!
Ace: All hail the Wargod! This is everything I was hoping would happen, Jason: pure, unbridled violence from Bronson Box, who’s out to make that Kendrix loss a distant memory.
Blackfront: Stevens hasn’t even gotten out of the gate yet! Boxer caught him off-guard by attacking before the bell, and he hasn’t let-off for a second.
Ace: Something tells me this is gonna be a long, long night for the big Texan.
Back inside, Bronson Box stands over Scott Stevens, gently kicking his sides, mocking his opponent. A smile – devilish and foreboding – stretches across broad Scottish features, before Boxer reaches down and wraps his arms around Stevens’ waist.
Blackfront: Ohmygoodness! Look at the strength!
Boxer straight-up deadlifts 256lbs of heavy muscle off the mat and drives him back down with a German Suplex!
Ace: This guy is a goddamn freak! Name me a stronger professional wrestler than Bronson Box, Jason…
Blackfront: I don’t think I can name a stronger man than Boxer, Tommy, let alone a wrestler!
Understandably delighted with his handiwork, Box stands over his down opponent, laughing.
Ace: He’s enjoying every single second of this…
He is enjoyable himself, but he also knows there’s work to be done. Boxer grabs Stevens and uses his immense strength to pull him up with another deadlift, but Stevens hooks his foot behind Boxer’s leg! A desperate elbow catches Box in the temple, disorientating him and forcing a break, which allows Stevens to stumble free!
Blackfront: Stevens is out!
Agitated, Box charges at much larger Stevens, but his forearm strike is blocked and countered with one of Stevens’ own! Scott follows-up with another, before scooping Scotsman up and slamming him down into the mat. Still feeling the effects of Box’s assault, Stevens falls back against the ropes, taking a few moments to recover.
Blackfront: Stevens is on-top, but he had to weather a heavy, heavy storm to reach this point.
Ace: It’ll take a lot more than a few seconds on the ropes to recuperate from the punishment Box has dished-out, and I don’t think ol’ Boxer’s feeling too charitable tonight.
Sure enough, Box is already scrambling to his feet long before Stevens reaches the length of recovery time he wanted. Cursing his fortunes, Stevens approaches the rising Boxer and wraps has around his waist. He’s forced to break his grip when Box lands a couple of elbows, but he ducks the clothesline that follows and whips his squat opponent across the ring. A big jumping calf kick catches Box on the rebound!
Ace: Houston Sidekick!
Blackfront: Things are starting to swing in Scott Steven’s favour! Boxer’s brow-beating took a toll, but it’ll show tremendous heart if he’s able to come back from it.
Stevens lingers on the mat for a moment, but a groundswell of crowd support urges him to his feet, and seen his back at his full vertical – unfortunately for him, so is Bronson Box. Box holds his head, feeling the effects of the Houston Sidekick, so Scott puts both hands behind his head and locks him in a Thai Clinch!
Blackfront: Uh-oh! This isn’t a good place for Box to be!
The Texan throws the knees, but he’s not quite able to pull the outrageously strong Box all the way down, and they smash into Boxer’s ribcage rather than face. Still, the shots are enough to drop Box to his knees. Stevens releases the clinch, throws Box’s head under the arm, and snaps back with a quick DDT.
Blackfront: DDT! And now the cover!
Scott Stevens hooks the leg.
…1!
…2!
But Bronson powers his shoulder off the mat!
Blackfront: Big-time move from Scott Stevens, and he’s now in full control of this match-up.
Ace: The guy’s clearly a very capable wrestler, but Bronson Box is a goddamn force of nature. Don’t expect him to be ‘out of it’ for too long…
Now deeply entrenched in his own comfort zone, Stevens knows it’s time to go to work. He stands-up and immediately leaps into the air, crashing down on Box with a big knee drop. Instead of covering Boxer, Stevens hauls him up and Irish Whips him into the corner, following up with a running back elbow! Box slumps down to the bottom turnbuckle, giving Stevens the window he needs to back-off, then coming charging forward with the running knee!
Blackfront: Right in the kisser! And now the cover…
Stevens pulls Bronson away from the ropes before dropping to his knees.
…1!
…2!
No! Box kicks out!
Ace: C’mon, War God! Bring the thunder!
Blackfront: Heavy, slugging offence from Scott Stevens. His style isn’t pretty, Tommy, but it’s certainly effective when he’s in full flow.
Ace: This is absolutely my kind of fight… it’s just a shame the wrong guy is winning!
Leeching energy from the crowd’s support, The Scorpion clambers to his feet, taking Box with him. After looking around the arena, he makes a big thumbs down motion.
Blackfront: Stevens might be looking to end it!
He kneels down and hoists Boxer onto his shoulders.
Ace: Don’t Mess With Tex--
Blackfront: NO! RED RIGHT HAND!
Sure enough, before Stevens can execute the Death Valley Driver, Bronson runs his elongated fingernails across the Texan’s scalp. Scott slackens his grip enough for Box to wriggle free and start clubbing the life out of him from behind.
Ace: Thank God for that!
Blackfront: How the hell does he keep getting away with this, Tommy?! Disgusting behaviour from Box -- this is supposed to be a goddamn sport!
Bronson has Stevens turned around now, and is laying into him with European Uppercut after European Uppercut.
Ace: Pah! If you can get away with it, DO IT. It might not adhere to your boy scoutt moral compass, Jason, but the game’s about winning! There are no prizes for being a nice guy.
But Box isn’t done making use of his scratchy right hand… oh no. Stevens is staggered, and with one hand on his head, Bronson clamps down with the other, digging his nails deep into Scott’s flesh.
Ace: GOD’S FIERY RIGHT HAND!
Almost grinning with pleasure as he applies the rancid submission, Boxer makes his opponent toil and squirm in pain. Stevens, however, isn’t gonna go out without a fight…
Blackfront: Wait! Look at this!
He battles through the pain, Stevens: reaching below Bronson’s compact torso to wrap his arms around the thighs, then haul him over his shoulders. Still stuck in a wild-eyed frenzy, Box maintains the clawhold… but he’s helpless to avoid the powerslam! Stevens falls away from Box and runs his hand across his scalp. When he pulls it back in front of him, it’s coated in a predictable crimson gleam.
Ace: Look at Stevens’ face…
Blackfront: He’s absolutely infuriated, Tommy! As if their interactions earlier tonight weren’t enough, Boxer has made him bleed now… he’s gonna try and pulverize the stout Scotsman!
Face flush with anger, Stevens rises to his feet and stomp, stomp, stomps away on Bronson with a righteous fury. He soon tires of this and violently yanks him up, tossing him into the corner, and dropping down to ram his shoulder into Box’s gut once, twice, thrice. With his opponent suffering, Stevens pulls him out of the corner by the collar and tosses him across the ring.
Blackfront: What power from Stevens, ragdolling Box over the canvas!
He drops to a knee and balls a first, throwing it into Box’s forehead, but he’s so overcome with emotion that he doesn’t realise the fatal flaw. It takes the referee’s shouting and waving for him to do that, and soon Stevens is up off Boxer, not wanting to get himself disqualified.
Ace: How many years experience has this guy got, and he still doesn’t know the damned rules?! NO CLOSED FISTS, STEVENS.
Blackfront: Stevens knows the rule, Tommy, but I think the sight of his own blood caused his animalistic side to come out there. Either way, both men are hurting…
Stevens eventually cools-off a little, accepting that the referee is in the right, before walking over to Box… and eating a gut punch!
Ace: HA! That’s what you get!
Boxer quickly tucks his head beneath Scott’s chin and jerks downwards.
Blackfront: Jawbreaker!
Unfortunately for Scott Stevens, Bronson Box is done screwing around. The jawbreaker sends his opponent stumbling towards the ropes, so the Scott follows him and hits a big knee to the gut before throwing his head between his legs. Eyeing a corner and showcasing incredible strength, Box hauls Stevens up onto his shoulders.
Ace: BOMBASTO BOMB!
NO!
COUNTER!
Stevens catches Bronson with a sharp elbow to the temple.
Blackfront: STEVENS BREAKS LOOSE!
The Scorpion jumps…
Blackfront: TOXIC STI-- NO! ANOTHER COUNTER!
Box pushes Stevens into the turnbuckle before he can hit the counter! Box steps back. Stevens turns and charges…
Boxer leaps…
Ace: FLYING STRONGMAN! FLYING STRONGMAN!
The flying Guillotine pulls the big Texan down to the mat. He tries to fight, but Box’s arm is light a boa constrictor around his esophagus.
Blackfront: CAN HE STAY ALIVE?!
Ace: He’s thinking about it, Jason! Nobody escapes this!
Blackfront: Look at how deep the hold is! Maaaaan, this is bad for Stevens…
A little too bad, unfortunately.
It’s a move Bronson’s done a thousand times before, and it’s perfect executed.
Steven’s thrashing and countering slowly fades away with his consciousness.
Ace: YES! YES! YES!
The referee recognises this instantly and forces Box to break the hold before any further damage can be done.
Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner… BRONSON BOOOOOOOOXXXXXXXXX!
Blackfront: Wow! How tough is Scott Stevens, folks?! He just wouldn’t tap-out… but full credit to Box! He knew exactly the kind of fight he wanted to make this, and he succeeded in doing so.
Ace: This guy is NASTY, Jason! All caps. Sometimes there’s just no escaping an expertly-applied submission, and honestly, I’m impressed Stevens didn’t tap. He took it like a man, but the Bronson Box train is well and truly back on track.
The lights in the arena go pitch black, as red lasers and spotlights light up the area. The video screen lights up and flashes across the screen a Texas flag, with the words, “Texas Born. Texas Bred.” “Texas Forever.“ branded into the flag. The crowd reaction is mixed, but there are more cheers than boos, as the opening guitar riffs and Hellraiser by Motorhead begins to play throughout the PA system.
Blackfront: Here comes a man still looking to really establish himself here in the UTA.
Ace: Stevens came here with a big reputation, Jason, but he’s done little to justify the hype thus far. He can make a huge statement if he puts Boxer away tonight, but it’s a tall order…
Blackfront: Stevens is looking to make it two televised wins in a row for the first time in his UTA career here, and he’s coming-off an absolute shellacking of Skylar Montgomery. He sees being drafted to Wrestleshow as a real “fresh start,” and you’re right: winning tonight would be a huge statement-maker.
The cheers intensify as the chorus hits the speakers, drawing out the man from Texas.
Announcer: Introducing at this time, coming to us from the Great State of Texas, by way of Houston…
Walking down the aisle, he fists bumps some of his fans while raising a fist at a few of the more vocal bashers.
Announcer: Standing at six feet, six inches, and weighing in at two hundred and fifty-six pounds...
As he finally gets to the ring, he climbs the nearest turnbuckle and stares down at his opponent.
Announcer: This...is....SCOTTTTTTTTTTTTT STEEEEEEEEEEEVENSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!
An icy glare and the throat slash gesture his only actions as he drops to the mat.
Ace: The guy clearly means business, and he comes with decent pedigree, I’m just not sure where he’s headed at the moment.
Blackfront: Let’s not forget that this is just the second show following the brand split, Tommy. Stevens is a superb professional wrestler, and he has as big a change of making an impact as anybody.
Lights all around the arena start shutting off one by one. When the big overhead lights shut off with a clunk the crowd pops simply for the sudden darkness. A whistling wind is heard, a hush falls over the arena. When the driving beat the man in black starts up, the fans perk back up. A few cheers, mostly derision from the UTA fans. When the lyrics to Johnny Cash’s God’s Gunna’ Cut You Down kick in, the whole arena rises up in one clear voice.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Blackfront: You wanna talk about having a point to prove? Last time we saw Box, he took a big loss to Kendrix, who, of course, belongs to Dynasty: a faction the battle-hardened Scotsman has no love lost for…
Ace: Box is gonna be piiiiiissssed, Jason! I can’t wait to see him conduct his symphony of destruction tonight. By the time this one’s over, the canvas is gonna be stained red with Texan blood!
Announcer: Now making his waaaaaaaaay to the ring! Hailing from the highlands of Scotlaaaaand. Weighing in tonight at two hundred and forty three pounds…
The lights come back on with a pop. Already standing on the ring apron, big as life and dressed for war. The Wargod. The Original Defiant. His name arching across the front of his tights.
Announcer: … BRONSOOOOOOOOOOOOON BOX!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Boxer closes his eyes and soaks in the reaction from the UTA fans.
Ace: I wouldn’t wanna be Scott Stevens at the moment, Jason! Box seems clam enough now, but as soon as that bell rings… phew!
Blackfront: An unenviable position, for sure, but you’re seriously selling Scott Stevens short here! His record’s been indifferent, but this match is just as important to him as it is Box. He’s gonna give it his all tonight.
As the music fades Bronson slowly climbs between the top and second rope, then takes-off as soon as he puts boot to canvas.
Blackfront: Wait a minute!
Boxer’s all over Stevens from the get-go, catching the Texan off-guard and clobbering his opponent with a barrage of hard lefts and rights!
Ace: Looks like Bronson didn’t wanna wait for the bell!
Powerless to separate the marauding Box from the big Texan, the referee shakes his head and calls for the bell. The match is underway, and Box has Stevens backed into a corner. After clobbering him with a hard forearm to the jaw, Bronson knees Stevens in the stomach then pulls him away from the turnbuckles by the hair. A hard elbow to the back of the skull puts Stevens to one knee, and a knee to the forehead knocks him down outright.
Blackfront: Bronson Box has come-out here like a cyclone of rage and violence! I thought he’d come-out strong, but this is insane!
Ace: It’s beautiful, Jason! That’s what it is!
The Scot doesn’t let-up for a second, stomping Scott Stevens multiple times before dropping to the mat and throwing several closed fists right into his face. The referee tires to warn him, but Boxer isn’t even listening.
Blackfront: He’s gotta be careful here, y’know – our official can easily disqualify him if he keeps this up.
Ace: “Careful”? I don’t think Boxer knows the meaning of the word.
By the time the announcers are finished babbling, Boxer has pushed the Texan out of the ring. Stevens is back on his feet, but he eats a right hand and a big double axe-handle. Unrelenting with the pressure, Box forces him up against the barricade, gripping Steven’s throat, then jamming both fingers into his eyes!
Blackfront: Blatant eye gouge from Boxer! Come on, referee! Do something!
Sure enough, the official bravely throws himself between Bronson and Stevens, but Box hasn’t got time for that nonsense. He pushes the referee aside mid-admonishment then goes right back at Stevens by grabbing his head, pulling him to the ring, and slamming his forehead against the apron!
Ace: All hail the Wargod! This is everything I was hoping would happen, Jason: pure, unbridled violence from Bronson Box, who’s out to make that Kendrix loss a distant memory.
Blackfront: Stevens hasn’t even gotten out of the gate yet! Boxer caught him off-guard by attacking before the bell, and he hasn’t let-off for a second.
Ace: Something tells me this is gonna be a long, long night for the big Texan.
Back inside, Bronson Box stands over Scott Stevens, gently kicking his sides, mocking his opponent. A smile – devilish and foreboding – stretches across broad Scottish features, before Boxer reaches down and wraps his arms around Stevens’ waist.
Blackfront: Ohmygoodness! Look at the strength!
Boxer straight-up deadlifts 256lbs of heavy muscle off the mat and drives him back down with a German Suplex!
Ace: This guy is a goddamn freak! Name me a stronger professional wrestler than Bronson Box, Jason…
Blackfront: I don’t think I can name a stronger man than Boxer, Tommy, let alone a wrestler!
Understandably delighted with his handiwork, Box stands over his down opponent, laughing.
Ace: He’s enjoying every single second of this…
He is enjoyable himself, but he also knows there’s work to be done. Boxer grabs Stevens and uses his immense strength to pull him up with another deadlift, but Stevens hooks his foot behind Boxer’s leg! A desperate elbow catches Box in the temple, disorientating him and forcing a break, which allows Stevens to stumble free!
Blackfront: Stevens is out!
Agitated, Box charges at much larger Stevens, but his forearm strike is blocked and countered with one of Stevens’ own! Scott follows-up with another, before scooping Scotsman up and slamming him down into the mat. Still feeling the effects of Box’s assault, Stevens falls back against the ropes, taking a few moments to recover.
Blackfront: Stevens is on-top, but he had to weather a heavy, heavy storm to reach this point.
Ace: It’ll take a lot more than a few seconds on the ropes to recuperate from the punishment Box has dished-out, and I don’t think ol’ Boxer’s feeling too charitable tonight.
Sure enough, Box is already scrambling to his feet long before Stevens reaches the length of recovery time he wanted. Cursing his fortunes, Stevens approaches the rising Boxer and wraps has around his waist. He’s forced to break his grip when Box lands a couple of elbows, but he ducks the clothesline that follows and whips his squat opponent across the ring. A big jumping calf kick catches Box on the rebound!
Ace: Houston Sidekick!
Blackfront: Things are starting to swing in Scott Steven’s favour! Boxer’s brow-beating took a toll, but it’ll show tremendous heart if he’s able to come back from it.
Stevens lingers on the mat for a moment, but a groundswell of crowd support urges him to his feet, and seen his back at his full vertical – unfortunately for him, so is Bronson Box. Box holds his head, feeling the effects of the Houston Sidekick, so Scott puts both hands behind his head and locks him in a Thai Clinch!
Blackfront: Uh-oh! This isn’t a good place for Box to be!
The Texan throws the knees, but he’s not quite able to pull the outrageously strong Box all the way down, and they smash into Boxer’s ribcage rather than face. Still, the shots are enough to drop Box to his knees. Stevens releases the clinch, throws Box’s head under the arm, and snaps back with a quick DDT.
Blackfront: DDT! And now the cover!
Scott Stevens hooks the leg.
…1!
…2!
But Bronson powers his shoulder off the mat!
Blackfront: Big-time move from Scott Stevens, and he’s now in full control of this match-up.
Ace: The guy’s clearly a very capable wrestler, but Bronson Box is a goddamn force of nature. Don’t expect him to be ‘out of it’ for too long…
Now deeply entrenched in his own comfort zone, Stevens knows it’s time to go to work. He stands-up and immediately leaps into the air, crashing down on Box with a big knee drop. Instead of covering Boxer, Stevens hauls him up and Irish Whips him into the corner, following up with a running back elbow! Box slumps down to the bottom turnbuckle, giving Stevens the window he needs to back-off, then coming charging forward with the running knee!
Blackfront: Right in the kisser! And now the cover…
Stevens pulls Bronson away from the ropes before dropping to his knees.
…1!
…2!
No! Box kicks out!
Ace: C’mon, War God! Bring the thunder!
Blackfront: Heavy, slugging offence from Scott Stevens. His style isn’t pretty, Tommy, but it’s certainly effective when he’s in full flow.
Ace: This is absolutely my kind of fight… it’s just a shame the wrong guy is winning!
Leeching energy from the crowd’s support, The Scorpion clambers to his feet, taking Box with him. After looking around the arena, he makes a big thumbs down motion.
Blackfront: Stevens might be looking to end it!
He kneels down and hoists Boxer onto his shoulders.
Ace: Don’t Mess With Tex--
Blackfront: NO! RED RIGHT HAND!
Sure enough, before Stevens can execute the Death Valley Driver, Bronson runs his elongated fingernails across the Texan’s scalp. Scott slackens his grip enough for Box to wriggle free and start clubbing the life out of him from behind.
Ace: Thank God for that!
Blackfront: How the hell does he keep getting away with this, Tommy?! Disgusting behaviour from Box -- this is supposed to be a goddamn sport!
Bronson has Stevens turned around now, and is laying into him with European Uppercut after European Uppercut.
Ace: Pah! If you can get away with it, DO IT. It might not adhere to your boy scoutt moral compass, Jason, but the game’s about winning! There are no prizes for being a nice guy.
But Box isn’t done making use of his scratchy right hand… oh no. Stevens is staggered, and with one hand on his head, Bronson clamps down with the other, digging his nails deep into Scott’s flesh.
Ace: GOD’S FIERY RIGHT HAND!
Almost grinning with pleasure as he applies the rancid submission, Boxer makes his opponent toil and squirm in pain. Stevens, however, isn’t gonna go out without a fight…
Blackfront: Wait! Look at this!
He battles through the pain, Stevens: reaching below Bronson’s compact torso to wrap his arms around the thighs, then haul him over his shoulders. Still stuck in a wild-eyed frenzy, Box maintains the clawhold… but he’s helpless to avoid the powerslam! Stevens falls away from Box and runs his hand across his scalp. When he pulls it back in front of him, it’s coated in a predictable crimson gleam.
Ace: Look at Stevens’ face…
Blackfront: He’s absolutely infuriated, Tommy! As if their interactions earlier tonight weren’t enough, Boxer has made him bleed now… he’s gonna try and pulverize the stout Scotsman!
Face flush with anger, Stevens rises to his feet and stomp, stomp, stomps away on Bronson with a righteous fury. He soon tires of this and violently yanks him up, tossing him into the corner, and dropping down to ram his shoulder into Box’s gut once, twice, thrice. With his opponent suffering, Stevens pulls him out of the corner by the collar and tosses him across the ring.
Blackfront: What power from Stevens, ragdolling Box over the canvas!
He drops to a knee and balls a first, throwing it into Box’s forehead, but he’s so overcome with emotion that he doesn’t realise the fatal flaw. It takes the referee’s shouting and waving for him to do that, and soon Stevens is up off Boxer, not wanting to get himself disqualified.
Ace: How many years experience has this guy got, and he still doesn’t know the damned rules?! NO CLOSED FISTS, STEVENS.
Blackfront: Stevens knows the rule, Tommy, but I think the sight of his own blood caused his animalistic side to come out there. Either way, both men are hurting…
Stevens eventually cools-off a little, accepting that the referee is in the right, before walking over to Box… and eating a gut punch!
Ace: HA! That’s what you get!
Boxer quickly tucks his head beneath Scott’s chin and jerks downwards.
Blackfront: Jawbreaker!
Unfortunately for Scott Stevens, Bronson Box is done screwing around. The jawbreaker sends his opponent stumbling towards the ropes, so the Scott follows him and hits a big knee to the gut before throwing his head between his legs. Eyeing a corner and showcasing incredible strength, Box hauls Stevens up onto his shoulders.
Ace: BOMBASTO BOMB!
NO!
COUNTER!
Stevens catches Bronson with a sharp elbow to the temple.
Blackfront: STEVENS BREAKS LOOSE!
The Scorpion jumps…
Blackfront: TOXIC STI-- NO! ANOTHER COUNTER!
Box pushes Stevens into the turnbuckle before he can hit the counter! Box steps back. Stevens turns and charges…
Boxer leaps…
Ace: FLYING STRONGMAN! FLYING STRONGMAN!
The flying Guillotine pulls the big Texan down to the mat. He tries to fight, but Box’s arm is light a boa constrictor around his esophagus.
Blackfront: CAN HE STAY ALIVE?!
Ace: He’s thinking about it, Jason! Nobody escapes this!
Blackfront: Look at how deep the hold is! Maaaaan, this is bad for Stevens…
A little too bad, unfortunately.
It’s a move Bronson’s done a thousand times before, and it’s perfect executed.
Steven’s thrashing and countering slowly fades away with his consciousness.
Ace: YES! YES! YES!
The referee recognises this instantly and forces Box to break the hold before any further damage can be done.
Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner… BRONSON BOOOOOOOOXXXXXXXXX!
Blackfront: Wow! How tough is Scott Stevens, folks?! He just wouldn’t tap-out… but full credit to Box! He knew exactly the kind of fight he wanted to make this, and he succeeded in doing so.
Ace: This guy is NASTY, Jason! All caps. Sometimes there’s just no escaping an expertly-applied submission, and honestly, I’m impressed Stevens didn’t tap. He took it like a man, but the Bronson Box train is well and truly back on track.