From: foleye@xanth.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man)
Newsgroups: rec.sport.pro-wrestling
Subject: FWF:  Titan vs. Lightning
Summary: The Invincible Titan Morgan defends his United States Heavyweight
	Championship against Aaron "Lightning" Murphy.
Date: 13 Nov 92 01:30:12 GMT
Article-I.D.: flop.1dv0f4INNkcn
Distribution: world
Organization: CS Dept, Oregon State University
NNTP-Posting-Host: xanth.cs.orst.edu

And now, the latest match from the Fictional Wrestling Federation arrives.

The contest:  the first (and perhaps only) United States Heavyweight
Championship defense of the Invincible Titan Morgan.

The challenger:  one-half of the most dominant tag team in the FWF (even if
they don't have the titles any more), Aaron "Lightning" Murphy.

Comments from both:

Lightning:

"I really don't know why Titan Morgan even signed on for this match.  I'm so
wired right now you can almost hear the fuses blowing!  At this point, it
doesn't matter who I'm up against, I'm just out to go kick some pour shmuck's
@$$.  Morgan, you really should give me the title now and save yourself a
very big hospital bill.  You're not up against a human being right now, you're
up against Vengeance Weapon Numero Uno, and up against that, you've got a tax
collector's chance at paradise!"

Morgan:

"Y'know something, Lightning, I do believe that's the first time anyone's just
counted Titan Morgan down before the match has even begun.  You think I've got
the hard job?  I've got the easy part!  All I've got to do is beat Vengeance
Weapon Numero Uno!  You've got to beat me, and each and every one of all my
TitanManiacs.  It can't be done, brother.  And if you expect the once and future
World Heavyweight Champion to just roll over and die, you've got something else
coming, dude.  Because when you step through the ropes, there's no turning
back.  You're in it for that hour, and I have no obligation to pin you quick!
So look forward to some Rice Krispie imitations from your poor old bones, Mr.
Murhpy, because when you mess with the best, you'll fall like the rest!!"

And without further ado, the giants clash . . .

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lights abruptly go out at the Glens Falls Civic Center in New York State,
and the fans wonder if there's been some blackout or something.  Then, a
brilliant flash, accompanied by a thunderous boom starts off the synthesized
movement "Storm" from the William Tell Overture.  A man in a black cape, with
long-legged black tights and a lightning bolt drawn both in fluorescent yellow
on the legs and in blue paint on his face, strides down the aisle.  His
sparkling emerald eyes look through the arena, tremorous anger running about
in them.

Alfred Grinchley looks at him approaching, and begins his task for the evening.

"THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS FOR THE UNITED STATES HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP.  IT
IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL.  COMING DOWN THE AISLE IS THE CHALLENGER.  FROM
KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI, WEIGHING IN AT TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE POUNDS, HERE
IS AARON 'LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHTNING' MURPHY!!!"

He is conspicuously without his partner, and some hardcores wonder what this
means.  Thunder is indeed nowhere to be seen.  The marks are happy to see it,
because they believe there's no way that Lightning can hold his own against
the United States Champion.

The hardcores aren't so sure.  To be certain, Morgan is perhaps one of the most
dominant figures in the singles ranks of the FWF, and whether Lightning can
beat him is a matter of conjecture.  But if he can't beat him straight, he
doesn't mind bending a few rules to beat him crooked.

Lightning climbs into the ring, unclasping his cape and tossing it to land in
a heap over the referee's head.  The official cavorts in anger, and causes some
hardcore fans to laugh in amusement as he clumsily tries to removes the ebon
cloth.  Lightning rubs one fist in the other hand, staring back up the aisle
with his head inclined forward, looking back at the dressing room from under
his forehead in an angered glare.

The music shifts, and Europe's "The Final Countdown" breaks over the PA system.
The eruption of noise from the fans is incredible, and the Grinch has to half-
shout, even with a microphone, to be heard over it.

"AND HIS OPPONENT, HAILING FROM LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. HE WEIGHS THREE
HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE POUNDS, AND HE IS THE UNITED STATES HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION:
THE INVINCIBLE TIIIIIIIIIIITAN MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRGAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!"

The blue eyed, bearded man in the half-torn azure T-shirt walks through the
curtains, and then recoils as if buffeted back by the sheer volume of the
spectators.  The marks and hardcores are both cheering wildly, for not only is
the man's image loved, but his actual wrestling ability is also top-notch.  He
is a wrestler one sees extremely rarely in the United States these days:  he's
loved, he's a face, and he can wrestle!

He takes the headband from his full head of hair and throws it out to the fans
next to the dressing room.  Then, with his bulging eyes on Lightning, he grips
his shirt and tears it from his chest slowly as he walks down the aisle,
revealing the Herculean sculpted physique beneath.  Lightning thinks of the
statistics:  6'9", 321 lbs. (up from 315, he notes), 25 inch biceps, and only
one pinfall and one disqualification loss in the history of the FWF, both by
questionable circumstances.  And, according to scouts, Morgan has been changing
his tactics a bit.  Gone is the Leg Drop of Doom, the last vestige of
resemblance to his hopefully-retired prototype.  Now, he has been practicing
a new, unknown finisher, and to date, no one has gotten up from it.  And he's
been practicing it with 450 pound guys as well as smaller men, such as
Lightning himself.

Morgan steps up to the ring apron, his finger up in the air before pointing
contemptuously at Lightning in the ring.  He steps in, yellow tights and boots
searched by officials in the dressing room for international objects.  Lightning
gets a similar perusal by the official in the ring.  The black and gold belt
around Morgan's waist is the official mark of the United States Champion, and
the #1 contender for the World Heavyweight Championship that has been held for
two-thirds of the FWF's history by Doctor Death.  The man who wins this match
gets the next shot.  Morgan, if he retains the U.S. Title, will quite certainly
get a mandatory shot at the World Title even if Murphy wins.

The strap is removed, and the official holds it overhead for all to see.  This
is the second most precious prize in the FWF World singles division, and both
men know it.  The belt is sent to the timekeeper's table, and the opening bell
is sounded.  Lightning looks up at his much larger foe, and the thoughts
going through his head can be almost heard by the Titan.  How is he going to
match?  How to overcome Morgan's power?  Even if he can, how to overcome the
technical skill of the U.S. Champion?  And if manages that as well, can he
put him away even then?  Morgan has taken hits from many opponents' finishers,
only to get up and deliver his own.  His opponents, with the exception of 
Doctor Death, haven't been so lucky.  It occurs to Lightning that Morgan may
have made the switch from the infamous leg drop because Doc was hit with the
move twice in the match in which he defeated Morgan for the World Champion-
ship.  Tactical improvement?  If so, Lightning had best make certain he doesn't
get caught in this new move.

Lightning and the Titan clutch an a collar-and-elbow tie.  It is a very brief
exchange, as Lightning is hefted three feet up into the air and hurled with
no small force into the turnbuckles.  Reflexively, he grabs onto the top rope
to avoid bouncing back out and right into Morgan's arms again.  He is treated
to an intimidating display of 321 pounds of solid muscle flexed before him.
Lightning ignores it, but the basic intent of the message is delivered.  There
is no way Lightning can match this man's power.

Lightning gets into another lock-up, but this time Morgan decides to haul him
over in a hip toss instead.  Lightning forgets his cool a moment, getting up
and running at Morgan in anger.  Morgan sets a moment, and almost easily tosses
him over his head in a Japanese arm drag.  Lightning gets up again, even
madder than the first time, and foolishly walks into a second.  This time,
his foot hits the ropes, and he decides that the floor would be a better place
to collect his cool again and think about what to do.  If Morgan demonstrated
a power superiority the first time, it is a technical skill superiority he seems
to be trying to establish this second time.  The lesson is not lost on
the Stormer.  He watches as the official backs Morgan away from the side of the
ring, and thinks for a moment.

He steps back up to the ring apron, and Morgan beckons from the middle of the
ring, allowing him a wide berth for coming back in.  Morgan starts to move in
once he's firmly inside, but Lightning backs into the corner, ducking under the
top rope.  Morgan glares out at no one in particular, but calmly backs away.
It's no skin off his tanned hide if Lightning wants to stall.  Is the challenger
that has to beat him here.  All Morgan has to do is last an hour, and Morgan
has the stamina to do it if not too much goes wrong.

Lightning comes out of the corner.  Morgan suddenly dives into a baseball-like
slide, his legs reaching for Lightning's ankle.  Drop-toehold?  Lightning leaps
out of the way.  No, I don't think so, he thinks.  Morgan stops at the last
moment, when Lightning is off the mat, grabbing with arms around the waist.
Don't worry, Morgan thinks back, I didn't think so either.  A moment later,
Lightning is hurled back over Morgan's left shoulder in a belly-to-belly
suplex!  Lightning gets up in a flash, only to be floored with a beefy-armed
clothesline from the larger man.  Lightning shakes his head, dazed, as Morgan
grabs a hammerlock.  The pain takes him out of his daze, as Morgan hefts him
up into the air, sending the back of his head flying into the top turnbuckle!

Lightning slumps to his side in a heap in the corner, and Morgan grabs him by
the platinum-blonde hair, hauling his arms over the top rope to keep him up.
A left and right to the jaw, right to the forehead, left uppercut to the jaw,
spin a bit, reverse knife edge, left, right, left, right, chop, and whip out
of the corner.  Lightning flies into the opposite corner, his back hitting
hard, the clothesline follow-up from Morgan hitting harder.  Lightning staggers
from the corner and crumbles to the mat on his belly.  Two index fingers in the
air from Morgan elicit a response from the fans that keeps Lightning in the
world of the living, but he's still in a world of hurt as well.

He tries to get on his feet, and his vision comes into focus a brief moment.
He sees Morgan's face, and pokes fingers to eyes.  Morgan hunches over, walking
blindly from the corner with his hand over his face, as Lightning tries to get
to his feet on the ropes.  If the match continues at this rate, it's not going
to last very long, he knows.  He gets to his feet, sees Morgan running at him,
and ducks to get the larger man up in a waistlock, dropping him throat-first
into the top rope.  A few kicks and stomps later, the champ is sufficiently
docile for Lightning to stop to catch his breath and reorient himself.

Lightning takes an estimate of Morgan's weight, thinks about what he can get
away with.  He brings the larger man into a gut wrench, hauls him up and over
into a suplex.  Not a lot of height, but it will do.  Morgan gets up a bit
faster than Lightning, however.  He isn't quite as aware of his surroundings,
though, and a thrust kick under the jaw puts him back down.

Lightning takes stock again, looking for something he can do to help himself
out.  Morgan's on his front, so he drops an elbow down to the small of the
back.  A second elbow, and Lightning decides to try legs now.  He crosses
Morgan's shins, and pulls back on them with all the leverage, bringing a wince
to the Titan's face.

The larger man sets himself on his arms, and kicks loose of the leg hold with
little trouble, though. Lightning lets go to avoid being thrown off, and drops
a knee to the small of the back before Morgan can regain his bearings from the
kicking effort.  A quick shift of his weight, and Morgan is stuck in a modified
camel clutch.  Lightning tries to shift Morgan's arms over his knees, but he's
too strong to move at this point.  So he keeps the chinlock and pulls back,
twisting around at the neck to make matters worse.

Morgan looks around, what little Lightning's manipulation of his facing will
allow, and sees that no ropes are around.  Lightning's game plan didn't start
out well, but it certainly seems to be working at the moment!  It doesn't do
Morgan any good to sit here in a wear hold while Lightning recovers from the
impact moves.  He slowly gets his knees shifted forward, until they are both
underneath him.  Lightning sees that he's going to be lifted off the ground
in another moment if he keeps this hold on, and so he gets off and launches a
boot to Morgan's ribs.  Morgan grabs at the sticken area, and Lightning thinks
he might have something here.  A second kick, and Morgan is flat on his belly,
groaning softly.

Lightning drops another knee to the small of the back, hitting ribs at the
same time.  Work on both, and hope one or the other will give eventually, seems
to be his train of thought at the moment.  Morgan gets to his hands and knees
and starts to crawl.  Lightning's train of thought gets sent back to the station
for a moment, and he kicks at the ribs again.  Morgan slows, but does not stop.
Finally, Lightning brings him back up to his feet, sending him across the ring.
A drop kick right in the nose sends him staggering backward, but he does not
go down any more than to land on the top ropes.  Lightning clenches his teeth
in dismay, and launches at him to send him over.



Morgan ducks under, and sends the smaller man over the top to the floor!  He
shakes his head, feels his nose experimentally.  No breaks.  Then he notices
the fans are cheering, suddenly.  Oh, yeah.  That's right.  He's ahead.  
Better move to stay that way.  He turns to the outside, looks at Lightning
reaching up to the ring apron.  He smiles.  "How about some help, Mr. Murphy?"
he chuckles to himself.  He grabs the wrist, squats a bit inside the ring,
then puts all his leg and upper body strength into lifting up by that wrist.
Lightning gasps, wide eyed, and realizes that he has two choices.  He can
watch his arm be torn off at the shoulder and thrown somewhere into the
audience for the vultures to play with.

He takes the second option, and is sent hurtling head over heel into the center
of the ring, to land partially on his head, partially on the arm that was used
to bring him in.  The expression on his face is a mixture of agony and shock.
The expression on Morgan's is jubilant, for a few moments.

That's the time it takes to see Jerry "Thunder" McGaghney standing at ringside.

He forgets Lightning a moment.  He walks to the other side of the ring, where
Thunder stands.  He points menacingly, warning him that he won't be as easy to
ambush as Andrew Simms was.  Thunder shrugs.  "No big deal.  Just watching."

"You can watch from monitors if you really want to," Morgan responds, pointing
back to the dressing room.

"And I can watch from here if I really want to," Thunder replied without
hesitation.  He points back at his partner and sarcastically tells Morgan to
resume beating on him.

Morgan turns, grudgingly getting his eyes back on Lightning.

The pain between his legs gets his attention off just as quickly.  Lightning
rolls aside to avoid the rigid tree falling on him as he keels over sideways.
The male portion of the audience groans in sympathy, while the female minority
begins laughing hysterically.  Lightning slowly sets a shin between his own
legs, his left leg over the right thigh near the hip, his right under the ankle.
He hurls himself back and sideways, contorting the limb back double, and
leaving Morgan in even worse condition that he was before.  The Titan rolls
onto his belly, twitching the leg to try to de-cramp the muscles in the thigh.
Lightning drops yet another knee to the back and ribs to stop his movements,
and he slumps flat to the mat, his body from the ribcage down hurting very
much.

Lightning nudges the side of his face with the sole of his shoe.  There's no
effect involved here, physically.  This is simple humiliation.  Morgan rolls
onto his back, and Lightning grabs his ankles underneath his arms, dragging him
back into the middle of the ring.  He sets the shins under his arms, feet
behind his back, and twists them around, stepping over Morgan's waist as he
is rolled onto his belly, and leans back with the shins still held in a Boston
crab.  Morgan contorts in agony, and the official asks for a submission.  The
Titan responds in the negatively, trying to get his arms from beneath his
chest and out to his sides.  Lightning leans back again, harder.  Morgan
bites his tongue against the scream that is fighting its way through his teeth.
Lightning sees a rope nearby, and lets a leg go to grab hold of it.

The marks shout in protest, and the official takes his eyes away from Morgan's
answer to a submission question to see what the complaining is about.  By this
time, Lightning's hand is off of the ropes.  The official sees them shaking,
however, and asks if Lightning has used them for leverage.  Lightning puts on
a "What, me cheat?" expression, and the official disgustedly turns back to
Morgan.  Lightning reaches back for the rope, and grabs hold of it again.
This time, the ref turns back to him a moment after looking away, and catches
him in the act.  He immediately begins a disqualification count, and Lightning
breaks the hold at the count of four.

Lightning turns Morgan onto his back again, and curls him over into a Boston
crab a second time.  Morgan, this time, has his hands to his sides, and he
crawls on them to try to get to the ropes.  He succeeds.  He listens carefully
for a disqualification count, but hears none.  He looks around angrily, but
can't see what's going on, as Lightning leans back in the move once again.
What is happening?  If Morgan could look around, he would see Thunder on the
opposite ring apron, arguing with the referee about alleged favoritism for
Morgan's benefit.  Morgan lets go of the ropes, clutching at his head in
frustration.

Finally, he lifts his chest off the ground with his hands in a push-up position,
and puts all his power into straightening his legs out.  Lightning is sent
flying away, careening into the back of the referee.  Thunder slaps the ref
gently, then, satisfied that he is indeed unconscious, gets on the ring apron
and climbs into the ring.  Drawing Morgan up to his feet, he sets him up in
a reverse fireman's carry, facing upward on his shoulders, while Lightning
climbs up to the top rope.  The fans crescendo in shocked recognition of Storm's
"Hurricane" being set up.  Lightning gets to the top, and launches off with
a knee, sending Morgan flopping over off of Thunder's shoulders to the mat.
A resounding "OOOOOOOOO" ripples through the fans, and the jeers from the
marks are deafening in Storm's ears.

Thunder wastes no time in getting out of the ring, trying to awaken the
official.  The referee indeed comes to, and sees Lightning on top of an
unmoving Morgan.  Wads of paper come flying into the ring as the official
crawls to count the shoulders.

One . . .

Thunder shouts for the referee to count faster.

Two . . .

He clutches his hands in agonized waiting as the arm rises for the third
time . . .



. . . and Morgan surges out of the cover, coming to his knees wide-eyed,
shaking his fists and his head in unutterable fury that two scoundrels such
as these could have thought to rob him of the United States Heavyweight
Championship so easily!  Lightning stands, stunned, and absently deals a
stiff right to the upper jaw to put Morgan back down.

He freezes, unbelieving, as Morgan focuses the sparkly blues on him and shakes
his head.

He tries a second jab as Morgan gets to one knee.

Titan Morgan stares at him in equal disbelief, wondering what stoopid thought
Lightning has in his head that he has any chance of winning.

A third jab.  Morgan rises to his feet, stalking around the ring, his fists
shaking in infinite wrath.  Thunder clutches at his head in worry, not wanting
to watch.  Lightning stares at Morgan, every thought and clue driven from his
mind by the amazing sight.  As Morgan turns toward him, he realizes that he's
better off fighting than gawking.  He takes a right hook, and hits Morgan on
the ear with it.

Morgan opens his eyes, and sees his smaller opponent, scared out of his wits.
He raises his right index finger, shaking it in the Stormer's face.  Lightning
backs off, edgy, his hands up, and Morgan follows every step.  A right is
blocked by a raised forearm.  A left is prevented the same way.  A rising knee
to the midsection, however, has nothing left to block it, and Morgan hunches
over.  Lightning laughs at Morgan's overrated qualities, and clenches him in
a headlock.  Morgan, just as quickly, is to the ropes and shoving Lightning
away.  A stiff shoulder on the rebound catches him off guard, sending him to
the mat.  Lightning goes to the ropes a second time, and Morgan rolls onto his
belly, sliding towards him to force him to jump over on the first pass, no time
being left to do anything else.

Lightning sees Morgan on his feet for the second pass, and aims a clothesline
at him.  Morgan ducks beneath, and spins to move near Lightning for the third
rebound.  He half-spins, grabbing Lightning up with a right arm over the collar
and the left behind the back, lifting his legs forward up beneath him, tucking
his head down behind, spinning him sideways so he is facing the ground as his
head is on the upswing, and Morgan puts the left arm into the front of the
waist for the trip downward.  Nice flight, nice maneuvering tilt-a-whirl,
not a friendly landing, though.  The wind heaves from Lightning lungs as Morgan
stands pointing at Thunder outside menacingly.  He turns back to Lightning,
sees that the smaller man is back to his feet almost, and lifts him up from
behind, setting him on the shoulder a moment before dropping his tailbone over
one knee.  No sooner has he impacted, than he is back up on the shoulder again,
and Morgan slowly steps from beneath him and lets him fall nearly seven feet
straight down, his entire spine hitting the canvas at once.  Morgan stands
quickly, stepping over Lightning on the way to the ropes and dropping a 321-
pound leg right over the smaller man's face.  

The fans, unaware of a finisher change, expect him to cover his foe right
there.  Not quite.  He draws his thumb across his throat sharply, and drags
the unmoving challenger to his feet by his hair.  He tucks the smaller man's
head between his legs, lifts him up by the waist, snaps him over facing up
onto his shoulder (my the ring lights are lovely this time of year . . . and
in so many colors . . . there's a red one, a blue one, a green one, wow . . . )
before one swift movement sends his upper spine and the back of his head at
a very uncomfortable-looking speed down to the mat.

Introducing the Power Bomb of Doom.

Morgan grabs a leg and head and joins hands in a cradle cover.

One!  Two . . .



Thunder reaches in, grabs a yellow-booted ankle, and pulls Morgan off of his
beleaguered partner.  The referee, no seeing it, goes into conniptions with
Morgan, wondering why he refuses to pin his foe.  Titan Morgan is not listening.
He stands and points menacingly at Thunder, his nostrils bulging in fury.
Whether Thunder's fear is feigned or genuine, the result is the same.  He
backs away and, when Morgan comes out after him, he turns and sprints back to
the dressing room.  Morgan is right on his heels, following him all the way
back to the curtains and disappearing in the the locker area, the term
"Justifiable Homicide" burning in his brain.

The official, utterly clueless as to what's going on, shrugs and counts to ten.

Lightning, also utterly clueless as to what's going on, has reached sixteen
in his own count.  Wait, did I already get the blue shiny one over there?  OK,
fifteen.  I wonder how they got those scaffolds all the way up there . . .

The bell sounds, and the Grinch gets on his microphones and makes the
announcement.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE WINNER OF THIS BOUT, AS THE RESULT OF A COUNT-OUT:
AARON 'LIGHTNING' MURPHY!!!"

The answering chorus of boos is deafening, and more wads of paper come flying
into the ring.  However, the result stands, and the official gently taps
Lightning on his face to try to bring him out of his stunned reverie.  He
shakes his head a moment, then sits up, still dazed.  He is wide-eyed when the
zebra tells him what has happened.  The import of it hits him all at once.
He has defeated the United States Heavyweight Champion, and thus becomes the
#2 contender.  (Morgan, remaining the U.S. Champion, is still #1 contender.)
He gets a mandatory shot at Doctor Death's World Heavyweight Championship.

And for now, Morgan get shifted back on the queue of World Title challengers
a notch.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------


And there it is.  A new #2 contender for the World Championship, by virtue
of a victory over the U.S. Champion and the previous World Champion.  And
Doctor Death has his next challenger.

Thus, coming up from the FWF:

Doctor Death defends his World Championship against Aaron "Lightning" Murphy,
in an ultimate heel vs. ultimate heel contest.

Titan Morgan defends his U.S. Championship against newcomer Rick Bondgrove in
an open contract match.

John "Flawless" Lawless takes on "Suicidal" Paul Stuart.

"Rock" Steve Rockwell continues his vendetta against "Scorpion" Stan Golding.

And finally, "Greased Lightning" Damien Flayer hopes to get some revenge in
a rematch with the returning "Hurricane" Andrew Simms.


Hasta.
 __________________________________________________________________________
|Stilt Man --Never ask a mortician to go out and bring you back a cold one.|
|  foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu	                            		   |
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