[b]"Watch the clotheslines."[/b]

Connor spoke the words carefully into his opponents ear as he clutched him close, then watched him stepped back as he was Irish Whipped towards the ring ropes. It was a routine he'd practised a million times: Irish Whip into ropes, clothesline, opponent pops back up, second clothesline, opponent goes for the reverse, counter into the DDT. Crowd boos as 'Rabid' Rob Reynolds goes for the pin. Kick out at two. 

[b]"Time to go home."[/b] Connor smiled down at the much younger wrestler, a local they'd brought in as a jobber for TV. Connor had made sure to run through his finishing move with the kid before the match, here's hoping he'd remembered their conversation. 'Rabid' Rob Reynolds leered over his battered opponent, then raised his head the the sky and let out a high pitched howl. His signature wolf howl. Even though he'd only been with PWG a short time, the crowd knew what it meant. This poor young man was about to get suplexed. Hard.

Connor leaned down and scooped the much smaller wrestler into a suplex hold. Just as they'd talked about, he raised him up and the kid did his best to post himself, hanging in the Vertical Suplex for what seemed like an eternity. The longer he held it, the more impressive it would look to the crowd. Finally, when it looked like he was beginning to wane (and his face started turning an unhealthy shade of purple), Connor ended it, bringing dropping him down and planting him with the slam. Just on the periphery of his hearing, he could make out the unmistakable sound of the commentary team screaming the name of his finisher down their microphones, really selling the move to the audience. The boos drowned out everything else as he crawled into the cover, lazily lifting his defeated opponent's leg up to signify the pin. One... two... three... ding ding ding.

[b]"Your winner by pinfall... Rrrrrrabid Rob Reynolds!"[/b] The ring announcer called into his microphone as the sound tech did his job and began piping Ozzy Osbourne into the stadium. The referee stepped forward to raise Connor's hand. This was the part where he could really sell how much of an asshole Rob Reynolds really was. He shook off the hand, threatening him with a balled fist, before leaning over the defeated jobber and beginning to strike him repeatedly in the head. The referee immediately tried to pull Connor off of him, but was pushed back so that the beating could continue. The boos increased, if that were even possible, as more 'match officials' appeared and tried to pull him away from his fallen opponent, eventually requiring four referees to pull him off the man. Even then, 'Rabid' Rob Reynolds continued thrashing about like a wild animal, throwing elbows and headbutts towards anyone stupid enough to get within range. Finally, he was escorted back up the ramp and through the curtain, the crowd continuing to loudly boo him the entire way.

[b][centre]***[/centre][/b]

[b]"Christ, did you see that crowd tonight? I got some pretty decent heat, but they fucking [i]crucified[/i] Max during the title match. In all my years up in Fort George, I [i]never[/i] saw a foreign heel cheered for."[/b] Connor turned towards Matt Edwards, another relative newcomer on the scene. He hadn't learned his real name yet, but had made sure to watch the match he'd had that night and was fairly impressed.

[b]"Si, that was fucked up, man."[/b] A shorter man in a lucha mask joined in. [b]"Don't know what is with these crowds.. back home, you cheer the good guys and boo the bad guys. These fans just want to boo everyone!"[/b]

[b]"Right? Anyway.. did you hear the big news about the [i]Battle in Seattle[/i], Jimmy D reckons he overheard Flanagan saying he'll be putting a lot of the younger guys in the Battle Royal. Something about 'grabbing brass rings'. You reckon any of us are in for a chance?"[/b]