PWP: Vortex – June 27, 2000



Tuesday, June 27, 2000 (estimated)




MA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first…

[It’s crunchy. Yet it’s smooth. Boys and girls… it’s Eddie Van Halen! No, no, not in person. Over the P.A. That’s him playing those tasty licks. Aww yeah. Dig it. “Unchained” is chugging through the speakers and the crowd is getting to it’s feet.]

MA: About to make his way down the aisle… he is accompanied to the ring tonight by his tag team partner, Marky “Show” Peters…

[A brief surge in applause for the mention of the former “Rip”.]

MA: Weighing in at one hundred and eighty-three pounds… and hailing from Venice Beach, California…

[The cheering continues, bubbling over a bit at the sight of Marky and Chad entering through the curtain. They are each dressed as before, black “Slater Squad!” cotton tees and the brightly colered biking shorts. Chad silenty struts to the ring, rubbing his oiled up and chiseled 6 foot, 183 pound frame. Marky bounces around like a hyperactive child, slapping hands with the fans and occasionally stopping to rub the back of Chad’s neck.]

MA: He is one-half of the Slater Squad! Here is… CHAD “TIME” COOORMIER!!!!!


[Sliding under the bottom rope, Chad saunters to center ring and begins posing like the bastard child of Lex Luger and Susan Powter. It’s oh so sad. Marky meanwhile leaps up onto the nearest turnbuckle and raises his arms to another quick pop from the throng.]


MA: And his opponent…


[In the dark, a Chinese Mandolin’s distinctly tinny plucking filters through the speaker system. Each chord creating a sense of suspense, and yet, it is soothing to the air. All was calm. Up on the big screen a single word slowly materializes in huge blue lettering – ZEN. It shimmeres with a watery effect.]

[Then silence.]


[A deafening bomb-blast rocks the arena, accompanied by rapid machine-fun fire, and the Cormierling of dying victims; the unmistakable sound of warfare. In more huge lettering, this time metallic silver -GUERILLA- slammes next to and above the other. Chaos segued rapidly into the harsh guitar riffs and violent vocals of ‘Fired from Life’ by Brstle.]

## Some die for property ##
## Some die for love ##
## But nobody that I know personally ##
## Has ever come back again ##
## Fired from life ##

[Then comes the stuttering spotlight trained on the curtain-draped entrance that serves as tonight’s focal point for PWP wrestlers entering the fray.]

## So if I die for humanity ##
## Or if I die for your flag ##
## It’s for my own reasons ##
## Thank you very much ##
## Fired from life ##

[The spotlight shuts-off for a brief moment sending the crowd back into darkness. When it resumes a diminutive figure stands under it’s flashing gleam. Jett Torres, one half of Guerilla Zen. He throws a fierce glance towards the audience, lifting his arms above his head.]

## What is there of value ##
## That’s worth a human life ##
## Maybe all that hatred you’re feeling ##
## Is really for yourself ##
## Fired from life ##

MA: And his opponent, standing five feet and eleven inches tall and weighing in at a petite one hundred and ninety-two pounds…

## But if you’ve ever cared for someone ##
## Or someone’s ever cared for you ##
## Try to think about that look in their eyes ##
## Try to think about you ##
## Fired from life ##

MA: He is one half of the tag team known as Guerilla Zen, Ladies and gentlemen I give you Jettttt Toooooooooooorrrrrreessssssssss!!!

[Jett lets out a primal shout, just before taking off on a sprint. He slides under the bottom rope, popping back up quickly he raises his hands above his head one more time.]


SB: The bell sounds and this one is officially underway.

AR: And Chad is officially gonna get his ass kicked.


SH: More like his jaw.

SB: Torres on the offense right away, as he levels Cormier with a standing side kick to the face!

AR: If this takes more than 40 seconds, I’ll be shocked.

SB: Cormier is down, and Torres heads for the nearside ropes… second rope springboard… MOONSAULT!!

SH: Nailed it!

AR: Of course!

SB: Textbook springboard moonsault by Torres, and already Chad Cormier is finding himself in trouble.

AR: You sound surprised.

SH: Jett’s not happy there. He picks Chad up and hucks him towards the ropes.

SB: Cormier bounding off… OOH! A corkscrew body block by Torres! He was like a mulching machine just chewing up Cormier in mid air!

AR: Like a WHAT?!

SB: A mulching machine. You know… they use ’em to–

AR: Shut up, Sammy. You’re queer.

SH: Again Torres drags a stunned Cormer to his feet… this boy knows no mercy. He’d make a fine soldier.

AR: Bout time you came around.


AR: I spoke to soon.


SB: Snap suplex by Jett Torres, and so far he has DOMINATED this match. Once again he’s heading up top… not sure what he’s got in mind here but–

AR: Looks like another moonsault, brainiac.

SB: Torres leaps!





SH: The little runt didn’t even know where he was! He sat up and shook his head as if he was just trying to get his bearings.

SB: And Jett Torres ate canvas!

AR: Of all the rotten luck!

SH: I don’t think he even knows what happened.

SB: Marky Peters on the outside, shouting instruction to his dazed partner. I believe you’re right, General. Cormier’s still shaking off the cobwebs. It appears as though he avoiding that moonsault was purely accidental.

AR: It would HAVE to be.

SB: Torres still clutching his stomach after having the wind knocked out of him moments ago, and now it’s Chad Cormier, formerly known as “The Chisel”, but now going by the moniker of “Time”…

AR: Officially, the dumbest nickname in the sport.

SH: Hard to disagree there.

SB: Quick reverse chinlock being slapped on Cormier. Apparently he’s looking to go a little old school here tonight with this classic rest hold.

AR: My guess is he still doesn’t know where he is. He probably fell into that move to.

SB: Torres trying to get to his feet, as the referee checks to make sure it’s not a choke hold.

SH: And Jett gets up… he pushes Chad off towards the rope and falls back on the opposite side…

SB: Both men off… DROPKICK BY CORMIER!! He nailed that one pretty good and Torres is down!

AR: Lucky shot.

SB: Both men QUICKLY up though, and Torres charges at Cormier… ARM DRAG TAKEOVER BY CORMIER!

SH: A bit sloppy, but it got the job done.

SB: And the crowd is on their feet in support of the youngster. Marky Peters on the outside, clapping his hands and really cheering his partner on.

AR: Promise me this won’t last. I can’t take much more of it.

SB: Cormier locked in with an armbar here… but Torres rolls back onto his shoulders… KIP UP! And he quickly rolls out of that arm bar and pushes Cormier to the ropes again…


SH: Nasty spinning heel kick by Torres! Down goes Chad!

AR: Now THAT’S what I’m talking about.

SB: Chad slowly to his feet, and Jett with an Irish whip to the– REVERSED!

SH: Torres goes off the ropes… clothesline attempt by Cormier–



SB: Torres with a BEAUTIFUL counter there, flying right under and over Cormier and planting him with that DDT. Textbook!

SH: The boy can wrestle, I’ll give him that.

SB: A handful of hair by Jett brings Cormier to his feet once again… another whip to the ropes… AND TORRES FOLLOWS RIGHT BEHIND!! CLOTHESLINE SENDS BOTH MEN OVER!!

AR: DAMN! Jett just knocked that boy clear into next week!

SB: And he hangs onto the top rope! Jett Torres just clotheslined Chad Cormier right out of the ring, and now he’s skinning the cat to get back inside. Incredible athleticism shown by the youngster!

AR: You da man, Jett!

SB: Marky Peters over to see to his fallen partner, and he’d better watch out as Torres has his eyes set on Marky now too.

SH: Torres is going up top. What’s this?


SB: HURRICANRANA!!! GOOD LORD ALMIGHTY!! Torres just lept off the top rope to the outside! He landed right on Peter’s shoulder’s and sent him flipping over onto the hard ringside floor! That was amazing!

AR: I told you two losers that the Zen was a team not to be messed with. Even in singles competition, they’re unstoppable.

SB: It certainly appears that way as one-half of the Guerrilla Zen, Jett Torres, is now taking apart the Bod Squ– err, the Slater Squad, singlehandedly.

SH: And he’s not done there. Can you believe this maniac is going BACK up top?!

AR: Awwww yeah, bitches and ho’s! It’s time to pay the pimp! This Jett’s preparing for ANOTHER flight of fancy.


AR: Get hip, boys.

SH: Whatever.

SB: Torres up top once again. Peters is still down, and Cormier is staggering to his feet. It looks like he’ll be Jett’s target here. Jett prepares to leap…






SH: That boy may have some broken ribs!

AR: DAMNIT! Damnit, damnit, DAMNIT!!

SB: And Cormier bounced his forehead off the floor when he tripped over the prone body of his partner, Marky Peters. All THREE men are down and it doesn’t look like ANY of them are gonna be getting up soon.



SH: The referee’s counting both men out!

AR: Triple dog damnit!




SB: That’s it! This one’s history!

AR: Well THAT was a crappy way to end it.

SH: I don’t think it was planned that way, Archie. Torres looks like he might be seriously hurt.

AR: Oh, he’s fine. [yelling to Torres] GET UP, RUB SOME DIRT ON IT, AND GET BACK TO KICKING HIS ASS, TORRES!!!




(Note: I have no recollection of who actually wrote this match, though I assume I did. Since most of The BOD Squad’s matches were angled rather than “competetive”, I tended to write them in order to tell the story the other handler and I wanted told. Guerrilla Zen’s handler wrote their ring entrance.)



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