Toothless Aggression

Chris Benoit walked into the Jubilee Arena in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. "Thank God! It's good to be back home!" Chris thought to himself.

The WWE was here for a Pay-Per-View, Survivor Series. Last year, Chris had been part of a tag team title match, which he ended up losing.

This year however, was different. This year, Benoit had a shot at the WWE Heavyweight Championship. He had to face Brock Lesnar, the resident man-beast of the company. Not even two months had passed since Lesnar had steam-rolled Kurt Angle to get the title back. Then, he defeated The Undertaker to keep his title.

"Oh, god, this is gonna be a bad night." Benoit thought back to Thursday night, when Lesnar sent him through a wall head first. His neck hadn't been the same since he broke it almost two years ago, but now, it wouldn't loosen up. He couldn't turn his neck fully, and it ached constantly. "Yeah, it has to be the one night I get my shot. Damn it!" Benoit thought to himself.

One hour before the PPV was set to start, Benoit got called into Vince McMahon's office. Vince was the chairman of the company, as well as the owner.

"Chris! Have a seat please," Vince said in his booming voice, giving Chris' hand a firm shake. Vince sat down behind his desk, and looked over papers from a folder on his desk. "Chris, I have been looking over your last physical report from this afternoon, and I have some bad news." Vince stared over his black rimmed glasses, and set his steely gaze right on Benoit.

Rising from his chair to approach the desk, Benoit began to finish the statement. "Mr. McMahon, I know what you are going to say, and with all due respect..."

"No Chris, you don't know what I am going to say, so please, sit down, shut up, and listen to me!" Vince's tone was slightly raised, so Benoit knew it was in his best interest to sit back, and listen to the boss.

"Now Chris, your physical shows that there is still a problem with your neck. You don't have full mobility, the muscles are knotting and sensitive, and you can't bear weight on it. Chris, I have no choice but to pull you out of the match tonight. I am sorry," Vince said, removing his glasses, and clasping his hands, before looking at the seething man sitting before him.

Benoit could feel the hair on his neck prickle, and his hands gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in. "There is no way, in my hometown, that I am going to give up my right to fight for this title, Vince!"

"Chris, I will not listen to this, I am only doing what is right for my employees." Vince said, defending himself.

"No, you're doing what is right to protect your pockets! You can't take the chance of someone getting hurt, and suing you, or of losing any talent that is making you money! You don't care at all about me, you care about what I can make for you!" Benoit felt the chair give under his grip, not even knowing he was tensing up.

"Chris, be reasonable, there is a high possibility you could get hurt tonight, why can't you see that?"

"But there's a chance I won't get hurt, and that is what I see!"

Vince hung his head down, his broad shoulders rising with his temper. "Chris, Lesnar is an animal! He doesn't care who is in there with him, he will do anything to keep his title. I can't let you take the chance with him, the odds are in his favor!"

Benoit grabbed the chair he had been sitting in, and hurled it at the wall. The chair shattered, and the wall cracked. He planted his hands on the desk, and stared at Vince, meeting his steely gaze with a downright chilling gaze.

"Screw the odds, and screw taking me out of this match."

Benoit left the office, and went to prepare for his match.

Tony Chimmel, Head Ring Announcer of Smackdown!, stood center ring, and prepared to announce to the crowd the unfortunate news about the main event title match for the night.

"Ladies and Gentleman, due to unforseen circumstances, tonight's main event match for the WWE Heavyweight Title is.........."

Tony was unable to finish his next statement, because the tones of Our Lady Peace rang through the arena, signaling the arrival of the hometown hero, Chris Benoit.

Tony had not heard noise like this in his entire run as head announcer. These people were coming out of their seats for their boy, and he knew that the main event was in progress, with no way of stopping it now.

Benoit passed through the curtains onto the ramp way. He wasn't prepared for the actual, physical blast he felt when the fans cheered for him. Like a shockwave, it threatened to push him back through the entrance curtain. He had to smile, but he was careful not to let it show. He had to stay in the right frame of mind for the match. Benoit stared at the ring, his new home for the next however many minutes of hell. 16' ft. x16' ft., with five ft. posts in each corner, and three ropes connecting them all wasn't much space to spend possibly the last moments of your life in.

After stepping in the ring, Benoit turned to the entrance, and awaited his rival. The hard guitar riffs soon strummed throughout the arena, and the lights went dim. Brock Lesnar entered the arena, and the crowd fell silent. Lesnar jumped onto the apron, and flexed his shoulders.

"Good god! The tattoo on his back is almost bigger than I am!" Benoit thought to himself. Lesnar was huge, standing well over half a foot taller than Benoit, and weighed nearly 70 pounds more.

Tony Chimmel came to center ring, and began his announcement.

"Ladies and Gentleman, the next match is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the WWE Heavyweight Championship! The challenger, standing 5'10", and weighing in at 229 pounds, from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, 'The Crippler', Chris Benoit!"

The crowd went crazy once again when the hometown boy's name was called, which made even Lesnar look around at them.

"And, the defending champion, standing 6'4", and weighing in at 295 pounds, from Minneapolis, MN, 'The Next Big Thing' Brock Lesnar!"

The boos echoed through the arena nearly as loudly as the applause had been for their hero. Lesnar became even more incensed at the show of disrespect the crowd had made to him.

Senior Referee Michael Chioda held up the Title Belt, all 15 pounds of gold, showing it to the contenders, as well as the crowd. He called the two fighters into center ring. "OK, you two, you know the rules, and you know how to break them. Let's give them a clean fight, and a true champion. Let's rumble, come on!" as he called for the bell to be rung.

Lesnar and Benoit circled each other like gladiators in the Coliseum, each afraid to make the first move, wary of the others skills. Finally, the calm was broken by Lesnar, swinging his arm at Benoit's head with a vicious clothesline. Benoit ducked it, and ran to the ropes, gaining speed, before slamming his body weight shoulder first into Lesnar's chest.

Lesnar didn't move an inch.

Benoit ran to the ropes again, ducking one, then another, then a third clothesline, only to be caught by Lesnar's boot in his gut. With the wind knocked out of him, Benoit was thrown to the ropes by Lesnar, and ran right into a power slam, when Lesnar twisted him in the air, and slammed him back first into the mat.

"Oh, Damn! I can't feel my toes," flashed through Benoit's mind, right before he was grabbed around his throat, and lifted to his feet by Lesnar.

"Welcome home, Chris! I hope you're ready for what you've gotten into, 'cause I know I am!" With that, Lesnar grabbed Benoit at his knees, and lifted him over his head, bench pressing Benoit several times, before choosing a side, and tossing Benoit out of the ring, over the top rope. The crowd reaction was a mix of awe and fear, and time almost stood still for Benoit, preparing for his harsh landing.

Benoit landed with an audible thud on the announcer's table, five feet from the ring he was tossed out of.

"Chris, are you ok?" asked color commentator Tazz, not sure how to handle this. He could see blood coming from Benoit's nose, and he wasn't sure if there was a tooth missing or not, it was hard to tell.

"I'm fine, dammit! Why are you asking?" was all Benoit said to Tazz as he started to get up from the table. Suddenly, Lesnar threw his arms around Benoit from behind, lifting him clear of the ground in a reverse bearhug.

Benoit couldn't catch his breath. His vision was almost tinted red from the blood being squeezed into it. Finally, Benoit used a last ditch effort that he was almost afraid to use.

Benoit slammed his head backwards, connecting with Lesnar's face. He swore he could hear cartilage cracking. Lesnar emitted a blood curdling scream, releasing Benoit and grabbing his nose.

For the first time since the match began, Benoit felt he had the upper hand. He ran at Lesnar, ready to deliver an elbow directly to the freshly broken bone, when Lesnar snapped to almost immediately.

Suddenly, Benoit no longer felt he had control of the match.

Lesnar grabbed Benoit around the waist, and lifted him onto his shoulder. Then, he dropped forward, slamming Benoit as hard as he could down onto the safety mat surrounding the ring. In this case, however, they didn't provide much safety. Benoit's head bounced off the floor, and suddenly, his vision went totally white.

Benoit was unable to sort the noises in his head. The people were shouting, but he was able to pick out one voice, shouting above the rest, "Look Out! Here he comes!"

However, the warning was too late. Benoit was able to make out a mountain of black through the white sea swimming in his eyes, and he knew the mountain was Lesnar, and he was mad. Lesnar grabbed Benoit with one hand around his throat, and lifted him off the ground, holding him up with one hand.

"YOU COME INTO MY RING, TRY TO TAKE MY TITLE, AND THEN YOU BREAK MY NOSE!!!! YOUR GONNA PAY LITTLE MAN, YOUR GONNA PAY BIG!!!"

With one hand, and freakish strength, Lesnar threw Benoit over the top rope, nearly seven and a half feet from the floor, back into the ring. The crowd was stunned, all gasping at the feat of strength. Lesnar climbed back in the ring, and picked Benoit up, draping him across his massive shoulders.

"I'm tired of you, little man, it's time to finish this." Lesnar climbed to the top rope, almost five feet above the ring mat, and held Benoit steady on his shoulders, face down. The crowd was silent in anticipation of what was to come.

Lesnar leaped from the top rope, and threw Benoit off his shoulders, holding Benoit's head under his left shoulder, and landing on his back, slamming Benoit face first into the canvas mat. Benoit's momentum carried him across the ring, rolling over and over, until he fell under the bottom ropes, to the safety of the outside. Lesnar couldn't pin him outside the ring, so, as it was, his plan backfired, ensuring Benoit of another chance, for the time being at least.

Chioda started his 10-count. If he reached 10 before Benoit crawled back in, Benoit was counted out, and his effort was for naught.

Images flashed through Benoit's mind, starting with his debut in the WWE, then his first Intercontinental title win, then his first World title match, where he had won the title for a total of 1 minute before the decision was reversed. Benoit saw himself holding that title for a split second, and then, it happened.

He opened his eyes.

The fans sitting ringside could tell you that there was something ablaze in Benoit's eyes when he got up. He walked smoothly, evenly, not like a man who had just been beaten to a bloody pulp. His nose was bleeding freely now, and he was sure it was smashed to pieces. Benoit brushed it off, he didn't care about that now. He only cared about one thing.

WINNING!

Benoit jumped onto the ring apron, then leaped over the top rope, running at Lesnar. He slammed his knees into Brock's back, knocking him off his feet. Lesnar spun around, and got Benoit around the waist again, then ran forwards, slamming his spine into the ring posts.

Benoit jumped out of the corner, and slammed his elbow into Lesnar's face. Once again, Lesnar picked him up, and ran him spine first into the corner. This occurred twice more, and twice more, Benoit came out running, slamming Lesnar's already shattered nose.

Finally, Lesnar tried something different. He kicked Benoit in the gut as he was running towards him, and grabbed him around the waist. Hoisting Benoit up, Lesnar flipped him over in midair, and powerbombed Benoit into the corner, his head ricocheting off the turnbuckle.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH DAMN!!!" Benoit felt his neck wrench, and grabbed it. He pulled his hand away, it hurt even worse to touch it. He pulled himself up, and saw Lesnar running at him. Benoit got his legs up, planting the soles of his boots into Lesnar's jaw. Lesnar stumbled back, and that gave Benoit his opening. He climbed to the second rope, and jumped over Lesnar, grabbing his waist, and trying to flip him over onto his back. He didn't count on one thing, however.

He didn't count on Lesnar catching his legs.

Lesnar held Benoit by the calves, and moved out from the corner. Then, he pulled on Benoit's legs, hard, and sent him flying back over Lesnar's own head, slamming on his back, and his neck, into the mat.

Lesnar stepped over Benoit's motionless body, and planted his foot on Benoit's chest, motioning for the ref to count the pinfall.

Chioda hit the mat, and brought his arm down for the three count, "ONE...TWO...."

The "THREE" count never hit.

Right after the second count, Benoit suddenly sprang to life. He brought his legs up, and wrapped them around Lesnar's knee, locking his ankles over Lesnar's knee, and bringing the big man down. Lesnar landed flat, and was already feeling the pain. Benoit was trying to hyper extend his knee, and he knew it. Lesnar's only hope was to get to the ropes and break the hold. Mustering all the strength he could, Lesnar flipped over onto his stomach, and dragged Benoit with him. Benoit's face was mashed into the mat, but he refused to let go. Lesnar reached the ropes, and Benoit had to release him.

Lesnar pulled himself up in the corner, and Benoit saw his chance. He slammed into Lesnar, and turned him around. Benoit grabbed Lesnar's arm, and slammed him face first into the mat. Locking Lesnar's left arm between his knees, Benoit wrapped his hands around the champs forehead, and pulled back. Benoit had the Crossface locked in, and he was praying that it would actually work. Lesnar had never submitted in his entire career, could this be the day?

Benoit had the hold on in the center of the ring. Lesnar wasn't tall enough to reach the ropes. Benoit knew he had him, there was no escape.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

Faced with the possibility of losing the title, and worse, being forced to submit, Lesnar found the strength to push himself up on his one good arm. He reached his knees, and started to stand up, with Benoit still latched onto his arm and head, refusing to let go. Lesnar stood up to his full height, and tried to shake Benoit off. Lesnar slammed Benoit down to the mat, and the force caused him to release his grip on the champion.

Lesnar grabbed Benoit, and started to climb the turnbuckle again, reaching the very top. He held Benoit in front of him, and was ready to throw him head over heels, when Benoit resorted to the most common defensive move anyone could ever use.

He kicked Lesnar where it counts, dead center groin.

Lesnar couldn't breathe, he had the wind knocked out of him. Benoit pushed off of Lesnar's shoulders, and jumped to the ring mat behind him. Looking back up, Benoit saw Lesnar facing away from him, still on the top rope, and he had an idea.

God help him if it worked.

Benoit stepped back, and got a running start. He climbed the turnbuckles like a ladder, wrapping his arms around Lesnar's waist, and mustering all the strength he had, Benoit pulled back, tossing Lesnar backwards, head over heels, all five plus feet to the canvas.

Brock arced through the air, and landed on his face on the mat. The entire arena hit its feet waiting to see if this was it. Benoit climbed the ropes again, and cut his thumb across his throat. The entire arena knew that it was time for him to fly.

Benoit looked at Lesnar, and noticed for the first time how far he had thrown him. Lesnar was clearly almost 15 feet away from him. That distance was nearly impossible to reach.

Benoit just shut his eyes, and jumped.

Chioda had spent nearly 14 years as a referee, and he had never seen a feat such as this. Benoit leaped nearly 15 feet, landing solidly on Lesnar with a diving headbutt.

Benoit looked up, and saw that he had made it. He hit Lesnar with the headbutt. Benoit saw his last chance, and took it.

He jumped on Lesnar again, locking in the Crossface, and cinching it even harder this time. Benoit pulled back to the point Lesnar's head and feet were almost facing the same direction.

Ten seconds later, the impossible happened.

Brock Lesnar, "The Next Big Thing", former NCAA collegiate National wrestling champion, and youngest heavyweight champion in WWE history, tapped out.

The entire crowd hit its feet, and the sound was deafening. They had come tonight to see a battle worthy of an epic poem, and they witnessed something miraculous.

Benoit stood up, and was presented his WWE Heavyweight Championship. Benoit climbed the corner, showing the belt to his hometown, and the exhaustion took over. Benoit sank to his knees, unable to even stand. Chioda helped him to his feet, and shook Benoit's hand, patting him on the back.

Chris Benoit stood in the center of the ring, looking out at his hometown people. He felt an enormous sense of pride, and of accomplishment. Chris Benoit, one of the toughest men in WWE, if not the entire business, started to cry. It wasn't because of the pain, or because of the exhaustion. It was because, for the first time since entering the business, Benoit felt truly, honestly and gratefully happy. As he walked from the ring to the back, Benoit had one thought running through his mind.

"Damn, it's good to be home!"