Here it is, the actual wrestling match. This was the fifth issue, and the last posted on my Conundrum site. There's another one I had started, that's finished now. I'll probably post it next week, because I'm still working on the issue after. Please feel free to read and review - it would be nice to know someone is reading this!

Um, IS anyone reading this?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the X-Men. I am using Stevie Sherman, Mickey D, and the ring announcer with the permission of their creators. This is of course, non profit.

Hope you enjoy!

=-=-=-

(The crowd was dead quiet for a couple seconds. Or, what passed for a crowd in this half full (but still slowly filling) circus tent was. The main event was about to go down. Even Jean could feel the buzz, and she was hardly a wrestling fan. She had a couple friends that were into it when she was younger. Jean had a lot of friends that were either into tv's or movies. Jean's thing was classical movies, especially romance. She took an occasional ribbing for it, but her love for old movies never wavered.

(Tonight's feature, however, was wrestling. Jean Gray had followed the young man she was sitting with - named Scott Summers - after he'd fled the scene of the crime, so to speak. It started when she'd sensed a great evil. Her and her mentor, Professor Charles Xavier, traced it to a nearby town. What they happened upon - and successfully interrupted - was a battle pitting this handsome young man and his best friend (more on him in a second) against their bosses - Warren Worthington, the third, and his top scientist Henry McCoy.

(She'd gotten there just in time to stop them, and warn them of an impending danger - one which showed up mere moments later! After battling a gigantic blue android that called itself Apocalypse, Scott and Bobby, worried about the repercussions of their activities, bailed on the others. After a fair deal of debating, Jean reached out with her mind to find where they were at - and once again seemed to sense a situation about to explode. She followed here just in time to join this handsome stranger at this hybrid of a circus and amusement park - complete with a couple wrestling matches!

(Jean wasn't sure, but she got the feeling the 'danger' she might be was in the ring. Maybe it was Bobby? She KNEW he was a mutant, after all. Jean shrugged, and figured she'd take it as it came up. She couldn't tell what they were saying, though . .

(In the ring . .

Dukes: That's right, pal! I beat you, the whole world opens up! And you know what? I'm gonna do it!

Crusher: You sure about that . . . Blob?

(Blob's face turned an immediate shade of red. Crusher just laughed.)

Dukes: Don't CALL me that!!

(Fred D. Dukes had actually been nervous until this point. After all, this was a huge star. Not now. No time to think, which wasn't a major concern for Dukes. He threw himself forward, shoving Crusher back. Dukes was as surprised as about everyone else as the over three hundred pound superstar went flying backwards, through the ropes, and to the concrete floor on the outside. The ring announcer quickly scuttered aside. Stefan (Stevie) and Mickey D. (Mike) couldn't help but laugh at their own team mate's situation. The audience seemed to find it rather amusing after a second, themselves. In addition to being ring announcer, though, the elderly Dan McDowell was also charged with relaying the action to the fans, via his microphone and the public address system.)

McDowell: Blob showing that strength of his again.

(Dukes shot him a glare, trying to let the elderly ring announcer he did NOT appreciate the name. Not much else he could do without getting the circus master in an uproar. Old goats . . . Dukes's mind snapped back into the present, as he watched the superstar Crusher Hogan slide back into the ring. Crusher looked pissed off. Not like Dukes was expecting him to turn sissy, but man, that look in his eyes . . . Dukes didn't care. He felt confident now - maybe a little too much so, throwing his arms in the air, inviting Crusher to take his best shot.)

McDowell: Blob's looking pretty confident already. Crusher Hogan looks all business right now, though, really laying into the Blob!

(Dukes didn't even feel the first few blows, really. That's what he expected. That changed. Crusher was like a mad man. Dukes thought he'd back down, back off when he saw Dukes smiling.

(Crusher wasn't looking. He was like a machine, now, pounding on Dukes until he actually took a step back. It was starting to hurt! Those damned fans were cheering it, too. What the heck?)

McDowell: I can't believe it! Crusher's driving Blob back! He's looked virtually invincible in his first two matches, but now . . . no! What a backhand shot from Blob!

(Indeed, Dukes was starting to panic, so he reacted instinctively by leveling Crusher with a meaty forearm smash. Dukes was too stunned from the offense to do any thing to follow up, though.)

McDowell: I can't believe he leveled the over three hundred pound crusher like that. Looks like he ain't done, either.

(Crusher's still stunned. Dukes simply walks over to him, and aims a kick directly to his ribs. Ouch!)

McDowell: Looks like the rookie's manhandling the ring veteran now.

(Fred snarled. It wasn't a pleasant look. Jean's eyes narrowed in concentration.)

Scott: What is it? Something wrong?

Jean: Wrong? Yes. Yes, I think so. Or, at least, there will be. It's like the feeling I had before. The one that lead the Professor and I to you in the first place. A feeling something's about to . . . explode.

Scott: Explode? Like what?

(Jean doesn't answer. Her mind's reeling, trying to figure out this overpowering sensation. In the ring, the action continues, unabated.)

McDowell: Blob pulls Crusher to his feet. FOREARM shiver!! The superstar, Crusher Hogan, gets rocked into the corner! Blob charges! Hogan moves!

(The ring shook. Ok, that's a bit of an understatement. The ring nearly broke in two from the force of Dukes running into it's corner! Stefan and Mickey D had to hang on to avoid being shook off the side of the ring! Dukes spins around, stunned. Crusher lays in a couple forearm shots.)

McDowell: I'm not sure how much effect those shots are having right now, but Blob isn't totally shaking them off, either.

(Jean couldn't help but notice the build up of anger was already swelling. It was hurting her mind to be so tuned into it. Scott noticed it, a bit concerned.)

McDowell: Blob tries to fight back with a swing, and a miss! Another right by Blob gets ducked!

(Indeed, Dukes had missed again, and he wasn't enjoying it. This wasn't right, he was supposed to be having his way like the last matches. They tried to hide and dodge, too, but Dukes caught up with them! He always . . . .ouch!

(He found his fuming interrupted by a solid standing side kick to the side of his jaw from Crusher! Of all the nerve . . . Before Blob knew what was going on, he was clotheslined once, then twice, then a third time. The third time had enough force to send the mammoth Dukes head first over the top rope to the outside!)

McDowell: I can't believe it! Crusher just clotheslined Blob to the outside! I can't believe the ring ropes weren't snapped by that!

(Not waiting to be tagged into the action, Stefan quickly scales up the ropes as Dukes staggers around. Stefan bites his lip for a second, then forces himself to fly through the air, into the giant "Blob," Fred J. Dukes!)

McDowell: Looks like Stefan's getting in the action, too!

Bobby: Alright! Nice move, Steve!

(Bobby cautiously stayed back from the action, of course. Just before the show, he'd been talking to the rookies. Mike and Stevie (Mickey D and Stefan by their ring names) weren't much older than Bobby himself. Once they got to talking about the match, it didn't take long for Stevie to suggest Bobby be their one night "manager." Mikey was against it, of course, but they talked him into it. As long as Bobby agreed to keep clear of the action, of course.)

McDowell: Steve got into the action with that flying body press, but he paid for it when Blob pulled him off the ground and tossed him into the air like a rag doll!

(Steve managed to roll as he landed, tucking his head so his neck wouldn't get snapped. It helped, as in it helped save his life. His body wasn't broken in two, but it did go instantly numb as soon as he landed on the cement.)

McDowell: He coulda snapped Steve in half there, and he doesn't care! Here comes Mike D!! (He catches himself) Mickey D starts laying in his own rights and lefts! After the punishment Blob's taken so far, so he's not standing up to that punishment. Blob's shook, I think, because he's shaking like a bowl of jelly.

(And the funny thing is, it's not from the blows - although he can certainly feel them. He was pissed off. Pissed off that the match wasn't going how he wanted. Pissed off at being called the Blob. Hell, on top of that, he was starting to get hungry again. Real hungry.

(It would turn out to be a fateful hunger soon.)

(Dukes swapped Mickey D back with a wave of his meaty forearm, sending Mike sprawling to the ground.)

Scott: Man, that's one powerful fat dude.

Jean: Yeah. I think he might be a . . . mutant.

Scott: A mutant? No way . . . . well, I mean, I guess I could see it. You don't really think . . .?

(Jean didn't answer, still deep in thought - and psychic probing. Meanwhile, Dukes had dropped Mickey D with a massive headbutt that sent him reeling. He ignored Stevie, who was just starting to move, and rolled back into the ring. The elderly ring announcer's comments about it resembling a whale just seemed to tick him off even more. Dukes expected to have to fight his way up through a Crusher barrage.

(Instead, he pulled himself to his feet, using the help of the turnbuckles, to see that arrogant jerk standing in the middle of the ring, arms crossed across his chest. He had that stupid smirk on his face, too. Stupid know it all just got lucky, Dukes fumed to himself.

(Crusher just starred as that flat Blob had to use the turnbuckles to pull himself to his feet. He was glad this fat piece of trash had tossed Crusher's partners out. It'd make HIM - Crusher Hogan, former WORLD champion - look like the big hero for sticking up for his poor, worthless partners. Maybe it'd almost look like it meant something in two seconds when Crusher whooped Blobie's butt. Almost.

(Crusher taunted Dukes from the center of the ring about having to use the turnbuckle to get back to his feet, tossing in a few obscenities for good measure. He could see the fat nobody's face turning red with anger, but he didn't really care, as long as he would get this show moving. Crusher expected the fans to be breaking out laughing. They weren't, but they were probably just bored by Crusher's idiot opponent.

(Dukes just starred at him, not responding to his taunts. At least, he wasn't responding verbally. He took a few steps forward, hoping to lure Crusher into a false sense of security, then suddenly threw his weight forward, diving at Crusher!)

McDowell: Here we go! Crusher ducks under Blob's attack, and NAILS HIIM with a perfectly timed spin kick! What a move!

(Scott knew this Crusher was a jerk, but he couldn't help applauding the move. Blob staggered forward. Crusher didn't give him a second after the amazing display of agility. A forearm shiver caught him from behind, sending him into the turnbuckle. Blob grunted, annoyed, and in pain. Again. Crusher smiled, mockingly. Dukes spun around, trying to wipe it off his face with another forearm blast. Didn't help, mainly because Crusher smartly dodged underneath it. Stupid coward, stupid move. Now Dukes was off balance, and easy pray for a simple shove from Crusher. The mighty Dukes, off balance, crashed to the mat!

(The crowd started laughing. A strange reaction, maybe, and certainly one that only served to turn Dukes face even redder with frustration. Again, he pulled himself to his feet. He realized Crusher would just take this as an opportunity to attack. He relished in the idea. Dukes didn't have to wait, long, either. Obviously not wanting to pass up the chance to press his advantage, Crusher stalked forward before Dukes had even totally regained his footing. He yanked his head back, just barely avoiding a right cross from Crusher. It wasn't much of a head movement; Dukes was hardly some pansy gymnast, after all. But just like he thought, Crusher didn't expect much movement from the mountain sized man. Dukes didn't give him time to worry about that, though. Another forearm shot rocked Crusher, sending him back. Now to try that fancy new move Dukes had been taught.

(Crusher didn't expect the forearm shot. Stupid rookie still fighting? he thought. He had to punish him for that. No other option if he wanted to maintain his level of respect, tattered thought it was. This was just a little part of getting back the respect that belonged to him that he never should have lost in the first place. Too much thinking; he hardly managed to duck under that sloppy clothesline attempt. He figured Dukes would be coming off the other ropes, but when he turned around, it didn't matter. Standing mule kick was almost absorbed into that ugly gut of this "Blob" character, but it had it's intended effect. But it allowed Crusher to set himself up for his crowd pleaser. A right cross caught Dukes one second. Crusher allowed the familiar momentum to swing his body around, straight into a perfectly timed crescent hook kick to the fat slob's throat. Crusher didn't even bother to turn around, soaking in the fan reaction. He frowned. Sure, it kind of got a buzz, but these fans were probably too stupid to know how exciting a move they'd just witnessed. It burned Crusher. Just like always, all his hard work going to waste because or someone else's mistakes and stupidity.)

McDowell: Now Crusher's really taking over!

(Stefan and Mickey D was eyeing it intently, obviously eager to be a part of the action. They'd soon get that chance, it seemed, when Crusher wondered towards their corner, obviously bored. Mike could tell that by the look in his face. He reached out to tag in Stefan, who was obviously ready for the action, but something stopped Crusher, causing him to pull his hand back, and turn around. The look of boredom suddenly become one of embarrassment. Mickey, only a rookie, still knew enough about this man's ego to figure what was going through his mind. He wanted to make it obvious he could finish this freak off. When that didn't happen like it should, he got pissed. Stefan took his hand down. He obviously figured it out, too. He glared at Crusher, who didn't even notice. Crusher wanted to finish this monster off all by himself. Sorry, hasbeen. Stefan might not realize it, but all you're gonna do is cost us this match. That attitude, you'll just start getting stupid and careless, and that ain't gonna work.

(Crusher, ego and all, was pretty popular, even in this non traditional, hardly even casual fan environment. The rookies had been working on fan relations, too, of course, both by design and nature. No one really knew what to think when an impudent rookie, Mickey D, reached out, and slapped Crusher on the shoulder.

(He'd just tagged himself in to take on the monster. Bobby knew who he liked, so he was cheering. Scott saw him, and joined in. Didn't take but a second for Jean, despite herself, to get into the action. And this, dear reader, is exactly why, within minutes, the half filled "stadium" of a broken down wrestling tent, was cheering Mickey D.

(Cause and effect here. That's what pissed of Crusher, even more than he already was. That's why he wasn't thinking when he knocked Mickey D down. That's why the crowd basically decided he'd turned on them, and responded in kind. Mickey was fuming. Mickey was being cheered. Those are two factors that can't be underestimated. The short but stocky Southern thug by his own admission had always had a mean streak in him. He wasn't bad tempered, but he wasn't someone that let himself be toyed with.

(The shove from his partner didn't hurt much, especially when Dukes didn't follow up. Mickey couldn't say why, nor did he care. He got half way up, and dove a shoulder into Dukes mid section. The crowd "oomfed" even though the move appeared to have little to no effect. Not a problem. Mickey D - why did he have to take that name?- had gotten enough time to get in his feet. Now he was just gonna start pounding on Dukes, and see what happens. Turns out, not much. Then Dukes raised his arm to swat Mickey D away, or so it seemed. Mickey couldn't do much but brace for impact. He pulled his arms up to cover, then realized by all rights, as fast as Dukes could hit the move, he shouldn't have been able to cover. He looked up. To pretty much everyone's surprise, Dukes felt his nose - and saw a bit of blood on his fingers. Mickey D, for the first time in the night, thought he was very close to toppling this freakish, bearish giant.

(But then, Dukes looked up at him. Dukes had this fire in his eyes, this hatred on his face. It was contorted - sickeningly, disgustingly, impressively contorted- into a mask of hate and fury. It hit Mike's soul. It cut through the determination. Mike was a bit afraid. Well, that's only half the truth. For a second, Mike was struck with pure terror and a vague sensation like he'd just angered a mother bear. But then the cooler, calmer side of Mickey D kicked in, and the fear subsided. It didn't go away, but that would have been a stupid response. Still, reason quickly kicked in, and when Mickey D chose to bail out of the ring, he knew what he was doing. When he chose that dive to be in the opposite direction of his team mates, he didn't feel any regret.)

McDowell: For some reason, Mickey D just dove to the outside! I wouldn't blame him, with that look on Blob's face. But it looks like Blob's gonna follow.

(Mickey D had been waiting for a moment like this. First, the crowd was into it. WAY into it. Second, they WERE on the outside. Mickey was sure, no way the ref would toss this one out . . . even if he did igo for the props/i, so to speak. Blob hardly had time to get to his feet on the outside as Mickey fished out something out from under the ring.)

McDowell: Mickey D's dug up something . . . I can't tell what it is from here. Whoa, now I can. Looks like one of the tent stakes! He just NAILED Blob across the midsection with it! Again! A third time! The referee is obviously letting it slip!

(Dukes really started to feel it now. His knees weakened. He shoved the small black haired annoyance back, but his legs felt like they were about to buckle. He stalked towards the downed Mickey D, eager to finish him off, but heard a sound behind him. Dukes spun around, sure that it was Crusher Hogan, trying to cheap shot him from behind. He turned around, expecting to see someone, but only seeing the ring announcer in the ring.

(Then he looked up just in time to see a body flying towards him. Even though Stevie Sherman's attempt to nail the mammoth Fred Dukes with a flying body press from the top rope seemed to simply result in him bouncing off Dukes, the gigantic Dukes staggered back, obviously having felt it. Dukes clenched his stomach in obvious agony.

(Something felt wrong. It wasn't the pain . . . it was hunger. His body felt weak. Where were those losers with the pizza? This was an emergency, his stomach felt like it was tearing itself apart.)

McDowell: Blob wondering around now . . .

(He didn't get a chance to finish his thought. Dukes had let his emotions get the better of him, and allowed himself to snatch the microphone out of the elderly ring announcer's grip. Jean looked own, feeling her own concern grow. Finally spotting the pizza, Dukes swatted Mikey D aside, sending him flying into Stefan! The kid with the box was too shocked to protest when he grabbed it.)

Kid: Hey, man, what you doing?!

(Dukes didn't listen, just scarfed the pizza down. He even started eating the box before he realized what he was doing.)

Kid: What're you doing? Freak.

(Jean almost passed out, sensing the backlash of hatred and . . . sheer power. Scott turned his attention from the action to grab her before she fell. As she did, Blob actually hit the fan! The lad went flying up and back, crashing into the remainder of the audience. Crusher realized the show was over . . . but he didn't accept that.

(No one was here to call the action, and the fans were quickly getting the idea it was time to get out of town, as Crusher drove Dukes backwards! The two fell into the emptying benches, causing them to collapse. Jean, meanwhile, was trying to regain her composure.)

Scott: I think we've got a problem . .

(As the crowd quickly escalated into chaos, Jean couldn't help but agree with him . .)