Redemption: Strikeforce vs. Saboteur and Action Saxton - World Tag Team Titles

[Ty Burna]

For the third time in their careers, Strikeforce will be taking on the team of Action Saxton and Saboteur in tag team action but this will make the first occasion where the World Tag Team Championship will be defended. Saxoteur won the chance to face the champions after defeating them on Meltdown 75 and ever since then, the friendship between these two teams have been getting a little heated and a little more aggressive. Can these two teams maintain cool heads and showcase why these two are the best teams in the division (despite being the only teams in the division) and can Strikeforce overcome the 1 PPV cycle tag champ curse that most teams receive?

Deadline is Wednesday, July 25th at 11:59 PM Central Time.​

 

[Shotaro]

Our dressing room was empty, my bags were packed and everything that could even be remotely nailed down was. It had only been around twenty minutes since our embarrassment at the hands of Saxton and Saboteur, and less than five since I had left the Medic for a routine check up. Mikey was still there, they’re probably going to have to x-ray his ribs. I found a seat against the wall and waited, one of the crew had promised to come for me if they were taking Mikey out of the arena so for the first time in weeks I was left to my own thoughts.

What was I doing? Two months ago I was on top of the world; I’d barely even considered Dinah for weeks, let alone spoken to her. She knows how it works though, she knew me well enough to know that I would become introverted if I was truly at risk and right now I was. I resolved to call her as soon as I knew the situation with my partner.

Saxton and Saboteur were all I could think about. They were clowns, clowns that I knew we could beat but ever since they became a tag team they’ve managed to make us look like fools. Hell, on Meltdown Mikey kicked Saboteur’s ass and even then he was the one that needed the medics. My fight against Saxton devolved into chaos when Saboteur threw Stormrage through the curtains, I just couldn’t understand it. How did those two clowns get their act together so quickly? Their feud was hardly friendly and yet, now they are tearing us apart week after week. With each defeat I was losing my discipline and making more reckless and dangerous mistakes. I would never have charged Saboteur like I did half an hour ago if I were concentrating; I would have made him come to me. I was fighting ferociously rather than intelligently and I kept paying the price. I need to get my head together before Redemption if we’re going to beat them and keep our titles.

Then there was Stormrage, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was dragging him with me, since we won the belts he’s become more aggressive, more arrogant, he thinks he is untouchable. Have I done that? Has my poisonous rage caused that or have the titles simply pushed a cocky kid into an arrogant monster? He’s not talked about Rose in ages either. The titles keep us on the road a lot more with public appearances but in private he hadn’t mentioned her in almost a month. I can’t imagine she’s left him, but even so, it’s strange.

There was a knock at the door and one of the crew told me they were taking Mikey for x-rays just to be sure, I thanked him and said I would make my way to the hospital. I cleared out our dressing room and made my way to the car, stopping to grab a bottle of water on the way. The hospital was on the outskirts of town, the journey was quick but I called Dinah on the way. I’d missed a scan, I promised I would be there for all of them but I missed the scan where I would find out if I was going to be the father of a son or daughter. She has a scan the day after Redemption; I swore I would be there, she promised to leave me if I didn’t make it, regardless of the reason. I was sacrificing everything that really mattered for some gold around my waist. Why was I torturing myself like this, I felt I was running in circles with the whole thing.

When I arrived at the hospital, I came to a dead stop. My hands and forearms were laid across the top of the steering wheel and I rested my head. I let out a heavy sigh, I felt my breath through the fabric of my jeans. After the best part of a minute, I made my way to the hospital doors.

The radiology waiting room was vast, white and empty. Four people amply filled their seats, two were blind drunk, and the other two were old people whose families did not care enough to go with them. One old lady was delirious, calling for ‘John’ as she rolled around in her seat. Mikey was nowhere to be seen, I sat next to the old lady in silence. She grasped my hand tightly and thanked me, calling me John the whole time. She told me she knew I would visit her and I was always her favourite grandson. A short while later the real John appeared and, after a brief confrontation where he accused me of any number of heinous crimes. I explained the situation and then left him to comfort his grandmother. During the confrontation one of the drunken fans began haranguing me for being a wrestler, more particularly for daring to take on the almighty Saboteur, he was easy enough to ignore though I couldn’t help but size him up, just in case. He had clearly broken his arm, judging by the way he was holding it, I guessed he was lucky it hadn’t become a complex break. He had what remained of a skating elbow pad on his other arm and his jeans were worn where he’d landed on his knees too often. He was a skater or a BMX fan and if it boiled down to it his legs would be the easiest target, he would try too hard to defend his broken arm. His knees had likely taken a battering judging by his jeans and I knew I would be able to take him down with minimal effort.

Mikey made his way into the waiting room, grinning from ear to ear. His ribs were fine, but he had to keep them taped for a few days. He was scheduled to appear on some TV show to be interviewed about his Tag Team Championship run so far. The interview was going to be live, so Mikey had to keep his mind sharp.

A few days later and Mikey had just had the tape removed from his chest as he left for the studio. I wished him luck as he left and then made my way to the room to watch his appearance.

The interviewer pursed his lips after the introductions and asked Mikey one simple question.

“What does Redemption mean to you?”

 

[Richard Blonoff]

What does Redemption mean to me? A hundred different things. It means a shot at revenge against the only team to beat us clean. It meant a chance to pay back Saboteur for making me temporarily deaf. A chance to pay back Saxton for sending me to the hospital. It meant a chance to...

...Mr. Stormrage please answer the question.

The voice snapped me out of my thought process. The light was suddenly blinding. Startled I quickly answered.

At Redemption Strikeforce will win and prove that we are the best team in WZCW.

That didn't really answer my question. The reporter asked confused.

Oh, I'm sorry what was the original question?

What does Redemption mean to you?

I take a moment to think over the question a second time. Running my hand through my hair I look at the ground before answering.

Redemption means a chance to defend our titles, nothing else.

The reporter looks at his cameraman confused. He isn't buying my lie anymore than I am. I adjust my belt on my shoulder and try to look more professional, but my mind is clearly elsewhere.

How do you feel about the fact that your opponents are clearly the fan favorites?

My jump into professional mode is quickly broken by my phone vibrating in my pocket. I reach in and check it, completely ignoring the question.

As I read the message the reporter, clearly annoyed, clears his throat. I look up and put my phone away.

Sorry about that, James was just sending me some info on our training regiment this week. I take a moment and then answer. The fans love them but I don't fully understand why. What is it about them that draws fans in?

Well they are both fun loving guys and put on a show for the crowd. They really put it on the lines for the fans. They are both really good guys and great friends.

Annoyed I change the tone in my voice.

Great friends! Are you kidding me? At the last PPV they had a brawl that covered nearly every square inch of the building. A few months back when we beat them in our first meeting they got into a fight that spilled out onto the streets.

I stop to take a drink of my water in an attempt to calm down but the reporter presses on.

They seem to be working well as a team and they put on good shows for the fans.

No! A good team doesn't have wild fist fights that halt traffic. A good team doesn't turn on each other after a simple mistake. A good team works together and wear these.

I hoist my belt up higher on my shoulder and pat it.

But the fans... I cut him off.

Don't give me that bullshit about the fans! If they cared about the fans they wouldn't end up nearly murdering half of them in the sky box at Kingdom Come. Caring about your fans means overcoming the odds, conquering your fears, and putting differences aside to put on a good show. James and I have done both of those and still the fans cheer for a 70s reject with an anger problem and a clown in a spandex suit who won't even show his face to his so called fans.

This is a televised interview, you can't swear! How can you do this, turning your back on the fans?

I don't give a damn, the fans can kiss the fattest part of my ass. I didn't turn my back on the fans. I went through hell in a TLC match, I gave my all in two tag matches against Saboteur and Saxton, I went deaf against Saboteur, I was attacked by him the next night and went to the hospital thanks to his partner, and the fans still cheer him. I didn't turn my back on anyone, the fans turned their backs on me.

The anger in my voice is evident at this point.

But, but, what about...

I cut him off again.

What about nothing! This interview is over.

No amount of food or video games could calm my rage. It wouldn't stop me from trying however. I made a short trip to a hole in the wall mom and pop burger joint. As I sat and waited, face down in my arms I felt a tug at my shirt. I looked back to see a young child, who couldn't have been any older than nine or ten, with a pen and napkin.

Mr. Stormrage sir, I was wondering if you weren't busy if I could have your autograph?

The apprehension in his voice was evident. Even without the vocal giveaway his body language spoke volumes about his nervousness. His knees looked weak, he was starting to sweat, and he couldn't maintain eye contact to save his life. Maybe it was because I knew in a few minutes I could stuff myself with bacon and cheesy deliciousness, maybe it was because I could tell he was clearly nervous to approach me, or maybe I saw a little of myself in the shy young boy, but I cracked a smile and took the pen.

Sure little man. What's your name?

Bobby.

I started to scribble our names on the napkin when he spoke again.

If it isn't too much trouble, could you maybe tell Action Saxton hi for me? He is my favorite.

I had just finished my name when he spoke. No longer did I see myself in the nervous boy. Instead I saw everything I had started to resent in the fans. They use you long enough to satisfy their thirst for entertainment and then cast you aside when they are finished. They were no better than 343 Guilty Spark when he turned on Master Chief once he had outlived his usefulness in the original Halo.

I glared at the boy and simply ripped the napkin in two. I handed it back to him before walking to the counter to grab my order. I sat the bag in the passenger seat of my car and headed to meet James for training.

As I drove, doing my best to save my burger and fries for when I got home, my phone started to ring. I answered, it was Rose.

Hey dear, what's up?

Nothing much, James and Dinah are having it out over the phone.

She sounded depressed. It wasn't the usual depression that came with the two of us being apart for a few days. We both had hectic schedules and were on the road a lot so it didn't hurt much only being a voice on the phone.

They will get over it. She is probably just having lady problems, or she is having baby hormone issues.

No, there is more to it. James has been on the road so much lately and she needs him.

She sounded less depressed and more angered than before.

And I know how she feels. Ever since you guys won those belts you are everywhere but home. Sometimes I wish you would go back to some nerdy guy piggy backing off the success of a former pro fighter, at least then I got to see you.

Hey now! Belty is one of the best things to happen to me. She validates me. All the hard work I put in, the sacrifices I made. I had to wait a whole month before I finally got to play Mass Effect 3! That was hell! Why can't you be happy for me?

My tone and volume were starting to match hers.

I am happy for you Mikey. Its just that...

She pauses but I fill end the silence.

Just that what?

Its just that right now I'm not very happy with you.

I drop my phone. I keep driving but don't remember any of the drive. I don't even remember if my phone shut itself off when it hit the floorboard or if it died. Until I met up with James I was just going through the motions.

I sat in silence inside the ring until he arrived. He was talking but I wasn't listening. I finally snapped out of my haze when a stiff jab from James knocked me on my ass.

Mate, where is your head today?

I looked up at James, still a bit rattled. He offered his hand to me but I knocked it aside and stood up on my own.

Are you okay? Maybe we should take it easy, you seem out of it.

I'm fine, lets just do this.

I tighten my gloves and nod at James. We circle each other a few times before we start to feel each other out with jabs and feints.

You are looking light on your feet. A few months ago you could barely make a lap around the ring without sucking in air. Now look at you, a regular Ali.

I ignored his praise and kept up my pace. I went in with a few jabs as cover before shooting for a takedown. Despite my size advantage, James still had a skill advantage on me, no matter how much he told me I had improved, and was able to stuff my attempt and create more distance. After blocking a few weak shots from James I came in again, harder this time.

Easy man, no need to give Saboteur and Saxton an advantage by taking each other out.

After we separated, James was saved from a third assault by a phone call.

Hold up mate, Dinah was supposed to ring me, probably her now.

As James exited the ring, removing his headgear and gloves I walked to the corner and slumped down. My mind was racing. Having the belt did validate me and everything I had sacrificed, but was that validation worth my relationship? It had obviously changed me, I was more focused, I trained harder, I was on time for appearances, and had even dropped a few pounds. To me that was more than worth it. Or was it? In the back of my mind I couldn't help but think I was trying to convince myself more so than others. Before I was able to continue selling to myself James climbed back into the ring.

Dinah wants me to have diner with her this evening so what do you say we go five more minutes and wrap it up?

I just stood up as James put his gear back on. He was content to take it easy but I came back to finish what I had started earlier. Only this time, instead of jabs I came in with a flurry of straight and hooks, tagging him enough to stagger him. I picked him up and slammed him hard to the mat. He was clearly furious with me.

What are you on about? I'm not Saboteur, I didn't cause you to lose your hearing for a day. Last time I checked I wasn't Saxton either, so take it easy.

What am I on about? What about you? All day you have been going half speed, not taking this seriously. Do you want to end up like every other team and lose the belts as quickly as we won them?

Our tempers were quickly growing out of control.

Those belts have changed you. You used to be a fun loving guy but now look at you!

I've changed. Yeah I have changed for the better. I'm focused and energized.

You seem focused on losing your relationship!

We were just short of a full on shouting match at this point.

Oh look who's talking. You can't even remember to go to Dinah's appointments. Some dad you will turn out to be!

James raised his hand, but instead of hitting me he placed it to his head and fell back onto the ropes.

You are right, I don't have my priorities straight. I have put aside my family, my girlfriend, my unborn child, all for a belt.

I walked over to him slowly.

No, you don't. Because the old James would have put me on the floor for that remark. You are going soft on me. You better get your head in the game before this weekend because if you cost us the titles there will be hell to pay.

He looked up at me, a mix of anger and confusion.

You are right, the old James would have laid you out. Maybe one day you will grow up though. When you do give me a call. I'm out of here.

James grabbed his bag and stormed out. I followed suit. As I made my way to my car James' words replayed in my mind. I was surprised to see Rose was waiting for me.

Look I wanted to...

No, I want to say sorry. My mind has been so clouded with being the champ and being popular lately that I have forgotten about the one person I was popular with when I was still some bum staying up until 4am to play Zelda. I love Belty, I love her a lot.

I look into my car at my belt hanging out of my bag in the back seat.

I love you a lot more though. You mean the world to me, more than Belty ever could.

I could tell that she was on the verge of tears as I spoke.

I'm jealous of the fan support that Saboteur and Saxton have. I'm jealous of the respect that James gets for his skills. All that has caused me to forget how people used to be jealous of our relationship.

I put my arms out and she fell into my embrace. I lowered my head to hers as I held her.

I know at times I seem distant and I hate it, but I always have you in my heart. I do this so I can give you everything you deserve. If I have to choose between Belty and you I will always take you. It may feel like the end of Grand Theft Auto 4 all over again, choosing between Niko's cousin and his girlfriend, but you will always be the right choice.

She tightened her grip around me, her tears starting to stain my shirt.

Remember the end of Red Dead Redemption? John Marston went through hell for his family and I will do the same for you. In the end he sacrificed himself so his wife could live. That was his redemption for the crimes he committed. I hope it never comes to that but if I had to I would do the same.

I looked down into her blue eyes, gleaning from her tears, and we shared a kiss. What did Redemption mean to me? It meant I was a champion in the blue eyes of the only person who mattered.

 

[JGlass]

Signal Panic, Inc. presents
Action Saxton and Saboteur
in
"Get Focused!"​

Saboteur is waiting impatiently outside of Hartford Hospital, a mere two-minute ambulance ride from the XL Center where Saboteur’s tag team partner, Action Saxton, was just involved in a literally explosive situation with Mikey Stormrage.

Most of the time Saxton would just walk off any sort of wound he suffers in a fight, but the electrical burns suggested he needed some medical attention, and his frizzed out afro suggested he needed a trip to the barber. Saxton doesn’t let just anyone touch his hair, so he and Saboteur figured a trip to the nearest hospital would be the first order of business.

The duo left for the hospital just a few minutes before Ascension went off the air and it’s now getting close to midnight. Saboteur has been waiting impatiently for his friend for a little over an hour, and he’s starting to get worried. His pacing grows faster and faster, and he’s beginning to fidget with his hands. The other folks that are passing in and out of the hospital are becoming wary of him. Some stop and stare, others avoid eye contact and quickly shuffle by him, hoping to not attract his attention.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Action Saxton rolls out of the hospital in a wheel chair.

Saxton: Sup sucka?!

Saxton is in a surprisingly good mood for a guy who just got put into a wheel chair by an opponent, grinning ear to ear with some pep in his voice.

Saboteur: Oh my god they maimed you! I knew it was bad! Oh dear lord, I’m going to have to find a new tag team partner! I wonder what Armando Paradyse is up to these days…

Saxton pops up out of the wheel chair and kicks it back towards the hospital.

Saxton: Relax fool, I’m fine. The nurses sexually rubbed some topical ointments on the burns and told me to take a few cold showers for the next few days. The wheelchair is just some sucka ass policy they have.

Saboteur dials back the emotion a little, but it’s obvious he’s still holding something back as he rapidly taps his foot and furiously nods his head.

Saboteur: Oh, okay, good. Yeah, good, great even. Great.

Saxton: ‘Srong with you son? You help yo’self to Doc Kurtesy’s prescription pad again?

Saboteur: Wrong with me? Nothing’s wrong. Not a thing. I’m peachy. I’m keen. Peachy keen, jelly bean.

Saxton scratches his head and looks at Saboteur with some concern.

Saxton: Yeah… well, the important thing is I’m okay and ready to train for our title match at Redemption! What should we do this week, talk to a professional martial artist that worked part time at a burger king? Beat ourselves with the ugly stick and enter an eating contest? Give ourselves a generic name and call it a night?

Saboteur suddenly grabs Saxton by the collar of his shirt and pulls him face to face.

Saboteur: The time for training is OVER, Saxton! We’re better than these guys! We know it, the fans know it, and they know it too! Why do you think they’re resorting to cowardly attacks? Because they know that WE are better than THEM.

Saxton softly pushes Saboteur away to break the hold on his collar.

Saxton: You better slow your role there, Saboteur. You know how much this t-shirt cost? Too much for you to go and stretch the collar out, damn!

Saboteur: We don’t need to train. We’re ready physically. We’ve already beaten Strikeforce before, and we’ve beaten men that are better than them too!

Saxton: Well then if we ready, what are we standing around here for? Let’s get our chill on! There’s a bar just around the corner that sells giant margaritas for five bucks.

Saboteur sticks his face back in Saxton’s face and yells.

Saboteur: We’re not ready!

Saxton: But you just said we are!

Saboteur: We’re ready physically, yes, but we’re not ready emotionally! We haven’t accepted the magnitude of the situation yet: we’re competing for the WZCW Tag Team Championship! This is my first title shot ever, and your first title shot in nearly a year! We’re not fighting over a spoon any more; we’re fighting for the greatest prize in all of tag team wrestling all over the world!

Saxton takes a few steps back.

Saxton: I know that sucka. I just don’t see no reason to get all worked up about it!

Saboteur: You need to get worked up! You need to get mad!

Saxton: And don’t you think that’s what Stormrage wants? This is a case where cooler heads will prevail. You need to get zen, like me.

Saboteur: Of course it’s what Stormrage wants, but what he doesn’t know is that anger, when controlled, can be a powerful weapon. How do you think I beat Ty Burna? Do you think I beat him by being “zen?” No! I beat him by getting mad! How do you think I topped Alhazred so many times? I got angry? And you know how I beat you at Kingdom Come?

Saboteur has Saxton’s full attention now.

Saboteur: I got PISSED! There’s a time and place for keeping your cool, but when something big is on the line... that’s when you get angry!

Saxton is quiet for a few seconds before he starts to nod and locks eyes with Saboteur.

Saxton: Okay… alright, you right. But how do we focus that anger? How do we take unadulterated, pissed off violence and mold it into controlled fury?

Saboteur’s anger turns to an almost maniacal grin.

Saboteur: Come with me.

Saboteur grabs Saxton by the arm and drags him away.

The scene quickly turns into Saboteur and Saxton sitting on steel folding chairs in front of a black curtain.

Saboteur: Strikeforce. Nice name. Get it out of a cereal box?

Saxton chuckles for a second before shaking his head and looking at the camera.

Saxton: James Howard and Mikey Stormrage! Man, who woulda thought the odd couple was going to become the tag team champions? Not me, I’ll tell you that right now, I sure as hell did not.

Saboteur: On one hand, you have a fat piece of crap that can barely move around a wrestling ring, and on the other hand you have Mikey Stormrage.

Saxton: Well hold on now Saboteur, that ain’t fair. James Howard might be crap, he might not be able to wrestle, but he ain’t fat! He sure as hell is ugly though!

Saboteur: So let me get this straight, the WZCW tag team champions, the guys we’re set to face for the titles this Sunday at Redemption, they’re fat…

Saxton: Like a Thanksgiving turkey that ate all the pie.

Saboteur: Ugly…

Saxton: Like the offspring Steve Buscemi and Satan.

Saboteur: Stupid…

Saxton: Like a chihuahua with brain damage.

Saboteur: And helpless.

Saxton: Like a paraplegic Helen Keller.

Saboteur leans back in his chair and exhales quickly.

Saboteur: Sheesh, what do these guys have going for them?

Saxton: Well, they mean, that’s for sure. They don’t think twice about jumping you from behind, talking unjive smack behind yo back, and just being all around… well, ain’t no polite way of sayin’ it, so I’ll just give it to you straight: they assholes.

Saboteur: And we’ve had our fair share of dealing with assholes, haven’t we, Saxton?

Saxton: The Apostles of Chaos could tell you a thing or two about getting whooped by Saboteur and Saxton, that’s for sure.

Saboteur: That’s right, while Mikey Stormrage was stuffing his face full of hot pockets and James Howard was going through anger management, Saxton and I were taking on the best WZCW had to offer… and putting them down.

Saxton: So listen up James Howard, you unjive, uncool, untalented, ugly sack of grade A dog crap: I ain’t gonna let you go on your so called “blood rage” this Sunday. Oh HELL no! You see, you may have been an MMA prospect, but Action Saxton has been trained by the deadliest kung fu masters in the entire world, and that AIN’T no joke! I’ve beaten grand masters in hand to hand combat, some UFC wannabe ain’t nothin’ compared to some of the trained killers I’ve put down.

Saboteur: And I heard what you said about me, Stormrage. You called me a bug, said you’re gonna step on me. Well congratulations, you got me in one match. I’d get on you for faking an injury and suckering me in, but I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same to get the win. Hell, when I kick you in the nads this Sunday and pretend that nothing happened, I’m sure you’ll be just as mad as I am. So yeah, congrats on your one win.

Too bad it won’t mean anything come this Sunday. That match isn’t even in my rearview mirror; it’s not even on my radar. All that matters is that you pay for what you said to me, and pay for what you did to Saxton.

Saxton: Yeah, and I ain’t forgot about it either!

Saxton holds his left arm up revealing some burn marks.

Saboteur: Congratulations, Strikeforce, you got our attention. You’ve earned it, you beat arguably the best tag team ever for those titles, and you’ve managed to keep them for more than a few weeks.

Saxton: And before we’d go, we’d like to take this time to thank you. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to face you for these belts. Thank you for pissing us off by ripping us in your promos and attacking us from behind. Thank you for giving us more of a reason to fight than just for those belts, because now we don’t just want your titles, we want to hurt you. And above all else… thanks for keeping those belts warm for us.

Saboteur: Because that’s all you are: placeholders. You did a good job, but you’re coming up against the next big thing. You’re about to face the full, unadulterated power of Saxton and Saboteur.

Saxton: And suckas, we ain’t joking around this time.

 

[The Doctor]

Signal Panic, Inc. presents
Action Saxton and Saboteur
in
"Get Angry!"

Action Saxton and Saboteur walk through a door into Saboteur’s apartment. Saboteur seems relieved, but still angry as he hunches over with his fists clenched. Saxton, on the other hand, seems amped up as he jumps around the apartment, sparring with the air.

"Hell yeah, sucka!" he exclaims. "Now that’s what I call a promo! The King himself can’t talk as smooth as Action Saxton!"

"Martin Luther?"

Saxton look at Saboteur, slightly confused. "No, Elvis."

Saboteur shrugs and leans against the wall. He lazily brings one of his costumed hands up to eye level.

"Whatever. We only have a week now until we face Strikeforce. Just hold onto that anger, because it’s going to get a million times more intense when we see them entering the ring at Redemption."

Saxton stops jumping around and puts his hands on his hips as he looks at Saboteur.

"No way can I let you go into the match like this, sucka," he says. "You were right, that was a good way to get the proper amount of angry, but you trippin’ if you think that helped us focus. If anything, all I want to do is smack James Howard over the head with the ring bell, and I’m pretty sure we can’t win the match that way."

Saboteur sighs, exasperatedly. "Well, what do you suggest we do then?"

Saxton taps the side of his nose.

"There’s only one place you can go to put yourself in the right state of mind before a match. Come on, sucka, we're going to Wyoming."

He grabs Saboteur by the arm and tries to drag him out of the apartment, but Saboteur doesn't budge.

"Why do we always have to go to Wyoming?" he says, pouting. Saxton rolls his eyes.

"Because, Saboteur, Wyoming does not exist. It is also where my favorite bar run by my best friend is, and it is also where we built our tower."

"It's halfway across the country, and the Saxtonmobile is out of gas. How are we going to get there?"

Saxton smiles. He reaches offscreen and brings into shot a large oar.

"Simple, sucka. We're going to row."

Saboteur looks placated. The two of them head out into the parking lot and prepare for the long haul.

---------

"Gimme some of that good-ass coffee, Marce, because your favorite super team is back and better than ever!"

"I just rowed in from New Jersey, and boy are my arms tired!"

Marceline, owner of the diner/bar The Paper Gangster, looks over her shoulder as the voices of Action Saxton and Saboteur comes booming through the crowded place. A few of the bar's regulars turn to look as well, waving at Saboteur and Saxton as they make their way to a table by the window. Marceline turns back to The Kid for a moment to finish pouring him a drink. He smiles in thanks as Marceline puts the bottle away and heads to the corner table.

"Sax! Sab!" she exclaims happily. "It's great to see you two again!"

"It's great to be back, Marceline," Saxton replies, chuckling. "Damn. I haven't been back just for a visit for a while. Not since Kingdom Come, when I was training to fight..."

He trails off, staring at Saboteur. Saboteur stares back. In fact, I would go so far as to say he glares back. The tension in the diner's corner is rising quicker than fans using a well-timed Armando Paradyse match to go to the bathroom.

"I should have kicked your ass."

"You should have been meaner."

"You should have observed the 'no takebacks' rule."

"You shouldn't have made me agree to such a dumb trade."

"Saxton Smackdown!"

"Saboteur Sweep!"

"Guys!"

The escalating argument is cut off at the knees at the sound of Marceline's voice. The two tag team partners turn to look at the owner of the diner, who is looking both exasperated and amused.

"Look, you two," she says, "I know why you came here."

"Woman, you don't know m-"

"Sax, I've known you since we were kids. You're not always hard to predict."

Saxton snorts, but a smile is playing across his manly face. Marceline continues.

"If you guys want to defeat Strikeforce at Redemption, you need to be on the same page. Get rid of some of this tension."

"I'm not going to give him a massage."

"Sucka, you'd probably be terrible at it anyway."

"Hey! I give great massages!"

Marceline holds up a hand. The two stop bickering once more.

"No one's going to massage anyone."

Saboteur looks vaguely disappointed. Marceline thinks for a bit before holding up her hands disarmingly.

"Have either of you just tried...apologizing?"

Saxton looks at Saboteur. Saboteur looks at Saxton. There is a long pause.

"...She's right."

Saxton looks away, sighing.

"Sucka, I'm sorry for all the things I said and did before Kingdom Come, and I'm sorry I made you give up your best friend for a spoon."

"And I'm sorry for infiltrating an evil DVD-counterfeiting child-enslaving crime ring dressed as an Easter Bunny just so I could kidnap him back."

"Are we gonna be cool from now on?"

Saboteur presumably smiles under his mask.

"Yeah, we'll be cool."

"Great!" squeals Marceline, clapping her hands and beaming. "I'll get the coffee and let you two talk shop."

She hurries off, and the two friends lean heavily on the table.

"As I was saying before we left," Saxton says, his voice low, "If we want to win, we need to get more than just angry. We need to focus, we need to strategize, and we need to figure out how exactly we're going to kick Strikeforce's ass. Again."

Saboteur nods. "I say we kill them."

"No! That would get us disqualified! We gotta think of a good strategy!"

Saxton slams a fist down on the table.

"Sucka, I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in Master Chop Onion's Ninja Academy, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on evil ninja syndicates, and I have over 300 confirmed ninja kills. I would have gotten none of these if it wasn't for my amazing strategic planning skills. Now, Master Chop Onion always used to say something in Chinese. I have no idea what the hell he said, because I don't speak Chinese, but I always imagined it was something like 'Know your enemy and you will know yourself'. Now, I thought we knew our enemy. We trained in their strategy and we pinned their rather amply-sized asses to the mat, one-two-three. So what the hell changed?"

"They got angry."

"Exactly. But now we are angry too. So if we take this anger and use it to become better than them, we have this match in the bag. What do they have that we don't?"

Saboteur ponders.

"The WZCW Tag Team Championships?"

"Exactly!" roars Action Saxton, taking a drink from the large mug of coffee Marceline has just handed him. "But what else? Nothing, that's what! But what do we have that they don't?"

"A cool theme song?"

"No, their's is pretty damn cool."

"A tower?"

"For all we know that fat sucka Stormrage made the team a tower already with Minecraft or something. Think deeper."

"An ever-changing team name that keeps the fans guessing?"

Action Saxton points at Saboteur. "Back up a bit, sucka, and say what you said again."

Saboteur looks confused. "Guessing?"

"Before that."

"Ever-changing?"

"After that."

"The fans?"

"You're damn right!" Saxton roars. "We have the fans on our side, and I think if I have learned anything by joining wrestling it's that I sure as hell like kicking ass when you have a whole lotta people wanting to see you do it! So let's recap this thing: We have the anger, we have their number, we have everything they have except for their belts, and now that we know what we are fighting for, how we will fight, and why, there is nothing that can stand in our way. Is this correct?"

Saboteur looks down at his hands and starts to count on his fingers. After a moment he gives up.

"Yes!" he shouts. "It's correct! I think!"

"Yes, it certainly is! We know those suckas like the backs of our hands, and when we channel our anger to punch their fool heads in and hit them with the Saxton Smackdown-"

"Saboteur Sweep!"

"-or the Super Touchdown, the only things those suckas will have over us is nothing!"

Saxton stands up and turns to the rest of the regulars in the diner, most of whom are looking on in rapt attention.

"Can you dig that?"

The customers roar in triumph, throwing napkins into the air. Marceline hugs Saxton and claps Saboteur on the shoulder.

"Go get 'em, boys!" she exclaims. "They'll have to permanently engrave your names on the belts by the time you're through!"

Action Saxton and Saboteur high-five and exit the bar to the sound of raucous cheers.​