Nikita, Part 1--Scott & the Stranger tonywrestles2

Scott was the first to find him. The president of Kappa Chi, the "brains" frat on campus, double majored in computer science and music, with a strong minor in European studies, and spoke several languages. A junior, he earned some extra cash by tutoring freshmen, even ones that hadn't yet pledged a frat, or worse, were pledging one of the others. On his way back to the dorms one early October evening after one such tutorial session, he heard, just for a second or two, a soft tenor voice humming an old Russian folktune.

Scott was intrigued. Whether most of the guys on this particular floor even knew that Russia existed was questionable--who'd know Russian music? He doubled back, straining his ears for the music that had caught his attention. Three or four doors behind him, on the left, he hit paydirt. And saw him.

Scott felt his breath catch in his chest. The young man was smaller and lighter than he, but his trim body was near perfect, with little extra flesh to be seen. Sitting against the far wall on his single bed, he looked like a dancer or a gymnast, Scott decided. He wore no shirt, showing off a large, beautifully defined chest and chiseled abs, baggy white pants, and a pair of headphones, which were presumably the source of the music. An open book lay in his lap, and he turned the pages idly, as if he were only making a token effort at study.

Scott watched, transfixed, as the young man continued to read and hum, still unaware of the upperclassman's presence. He shifted positions once, then again, and finally turned over onto his stomach. Scott's eyes widened at the stranger's perfectly-rounded ass. Definitely a dancer, he decided just before the stranger looked up and saw him there........

"Come in," he invited in a softly-accented voice. Scott stepped into the room, breathing in a faint, soothing aroma as he did so. It took him a second or two to recognize it as cinnamon, and his eyes caught the burning brownish-red candle on the dresser.

The young god followed his gaze and grinned. "My roommate is very strong. This helps clean the air," he said, as he lay his book and headphones aside and climbed to his feet. He held out a hand. "My name is Nikita."

"Scott." Nikita's grip was firm and strong--those muscles weren't just for display purposes. "I heard your music; I didn't know anyone in this wing listened to anything but crap-hop."

Nikita shrugged. "My mother plays the piano in concert halls. I heard this all the time in our house."

"Where are you from?"

"Sindi. It is...."

"In Estonia, near Parnu," Scott grinned, as Nikita's eyes widened. "Let me guess, nobody on campus even knows where Estonia is, right?" At Nikita's nod, Scott pressed his advantage. "You should meet some of my brothers--fraternity brothers, I mean. I'm the chapter president for Kappa Chi. We try to pick guys who think with their big heads," he pointed at his temple, "and not their little ones."

Scott pointed to his package, and Nikita's smile grew wider. "I would like to meet your brothers very much," he said.

"Great! We're throwing a party Saturday night; you should come." He pulled out a pen and paper from his books and scribbled directions to the Kappa Chi house. "About nine o'clock."

"I will come. Thank you for inviting me."

Scott's heart raced all the way back to the house. With any luck, he'd extended Nikita's stay well into Sunday morning.....and after that, who knew?

Buzz swaggered across the quad. Some guys walked, jogged, trotted, sauntered--Buzz swaggered. Always.

He had reason enough, that was for sure. He was the college underground wrestling champion. The baddest dude on the campus. There wasn't a single guy here that could take him.

(He never thought about the bar, and nobody--NOBODY--mentioned it. Not since tha freshman from Oregon, anyway. Bets were still being taken over whether he'd come back next year.)

Movement farther along the path caught Buzz's eye. And held it. Damn, that was one hot little number walking toward him! Tight slacks showed off incredibly muscled legs, nice shoulders, and a killer face. Buzz felt a familiar stirring in his groin.

The kid wasn't really paying attention to where he was going. Buzz had learned how to work that one by the time he was twelve. He moved to the left side of the path, where the number was, and waited. Sure enough, the guy ran right into him.

"Hey, why don't you watch where the fuck you're going?" Buzz snapped, giving the kid a poke in the chest--not hard, not even enough to discolor the kid's skin for more than half a second, just enough to get his attention.

The kid looked up....and up....and up. He was about as big as Buzz had been at fifteen. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't see you, I was thinking..."

"No, you weren't thinking, boy," Buzz replied, "because if you'd been thinking, you wouldn't have run into me. WOULD you."

The kid shook his head, obviously scared shitless. Certainly scared speechless.

Buzz put his hand on the kid's shoulder--again, just enough force for the kid to let his imagination do the work. "Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your ass right here?" he asked, his tone sounding like he was discussing if it might rain tomorrow.

More head shaking. The kid was gonna get whiplash if Buzz didn't wrap this up quick.

"Well, this is your lucky day, kid," Buzz said, patting his cheek, "because I can. It's because I want to show you off to my boys at our kegger Saturday night, and I can't do that if I put you in the hospital."

The kid went white. "I can't....I promised...."

"Oooo, 'can't,'" Buzz parroted. "Not a good word to use. We're drifting back to the ass kicking we were talking about before. You know I can do it, right?" The kid swallowed, and nodded so hard Buzz thought his hair might fall off.

"Fine. Nine o'clock, Saturday night. Lambda Theta house. You can find your way there by yourself. If you play nice with my boys, we'll get along just fine. If not....."

He shoved the kid, this time hard enough to send him sprawling on the grass. He swaggered away, laughing. "See you Saturday, lunchmeat."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Nikita couldn't believe what had happened. Who was this man, and why hadn't Nikita seen him? How could he have missed that mountain of solid muscle?

Now he was going to have to miss the Kappa party. Who knew what that man would do to him? And Scott, beautiful Scott, might not talk to him again.

The tears came, and Nikita wept, his sobs drowning out his pounding heart, and the footsteps on the path.....

The footsteps belonged to John, president of the professional partyboys of Delta Rho. Over the course of their conversation, John told Nikita that if he thought too much, he'd go nuts. Every problem, John said, could be solved with enough beer.

Over the next couple of days, Nikita met the other five fraternity presidents. Rick, leader of Zeta Iota, encountered him while studying in the library. Blake, of Epsilon Xi, spotted for him on the bench in the gym. Brian (Sigma Sigma) and Garrison (Beta Chi) actually sought him out, Brian to rave about Nikita's financial wizard father, Garrison to discuss his aristocratic mother. And in the locker room after a workout, Gamma Tau president Damien out-and-out propositioned him.

Nikita didn't know what to do. Most of the fraternities--and their presidents--held at least some interest for him. The only thing of which he was absolutely sure was that he wanted no part of Buzz. The enormous jock terrified him, and, despite his magnificently-sculpted physique and impressive endowment, repulsed him. And worse, all of the frats were throwing parties at the same time, all had invited him, and Saturday was coming up fast....

Saturday came, and Nikita decided it would be safer to spend it in his room. He regretted missing the parties with Scott and John and the others, but at least we would be safe. Buzz didn't know where he lived; maybe by next week he'd find another target.

He didn't realize how edgy he was until a light tap on his door made him jump. "Hey, Nick, can I borrow some shampoo?" he heard Myron Wilson from the other side of the door. Composing himself as best he could, Nikita retrieved his shampoo from his medicine cabinet and opened the door.

Myron wasn't alone.

Buzz sent Myron sprawling along the hallway with a negligent-seeming shove and grabbed Nikita by the shirt, pulling him into the hallway and slamming him into the concrete wall on the other side. "Told you you'd get your ass kicked if you didn't come to my party, lunchmeat," he growled. Nikita could smell the alcohol on Buzz's breath, a sickly stench that turned his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Myron weakly rubbing his throat where Buzz had choked him into luring Nikita out.

"Thought you'd get away, huh?" Buzz sneered. "Not a chance. I've had my boys following you all week. They're waiting back at the house--let's go."

Nikita struggled uselessly in sheer terror as Buzz half-dragged, half-carried him through the dorm. People poked their heads out of their rooms to see what was going on, saw Buzz, and quickly closed the door. Nikita's heart sank into his stomach--no one would help him.

As they left the dorm and headed for Fraternity Row, Buzz threw back his head and started singing at the top of his lungs, "I get what I want, it's a one way trip--you ain't my lady, you my........"

* * * * * * * *

Almost ten o'clock. No Nikita. Scott sighed and tried to care about the party going on around him. Had he misjudged the foreign boy? He considered getting too drunk to care. The more he thought about the idea, the better it sounded. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check the front of the house one more time.

As he stepped onto the porch, he was assaulted the worst singing voice he'd ever heard in his life. Buzz, he thought with contempt. He looked in the direction of the caterwauling, and sure enough, there was the jock with one of his drunken buddies.

Or was he? Scott couldn't tell, but Buzz's companion looked more like he was trying to get away than anything else. And he looked familiar.........they were nearing a streetlight, he'd be able to get a better look.......

Holy shit!

NIKITA!!!!!!!!!!!!

Scott didn't even realize he was in motion until his body slammed into Buzz's and sent them both tumbling to the grass.....

Scott straddled Buzz and started raining wild punches on his face and chest. Again and again his fists struck the jock, as adrenaline surged through his veins and pure rage blinded him.

Buzz, his reactions slowed by the booze, absorbed the brunt of Scott's fury for about thirty seconds before fighting back. A massive shove sent Scott tumbling off of him. He slowly climbed to his feet, feeling a throbbing pain around his right eye and a trickle of blood around his mouth.

"You're dead, motherfucker," he growled, getting into a fighting stance. Scott lifted his fists in response and prepared for battle.

By now an audience was gathering, including members of other frats. Damien and Rick shouldered each other out of the way to get a better view of the action. Garrison found himself face-to-face with Brian--the two were natural enemies.

Scott tried to force himself to fight calmly. Buzz's considerable size advantage was offset by his intoxication--sober, he would likely have made short work of Scott. Scott flicked jabs into Buzz's face, one, two, three, and then followed the third with a right hook to the body.

But that right hook took him within Buzz's reach. The massive jock wrapped his arms around Scott's ribcage, pinning his right arm in the process, and began to squeeze. Scott hammered his left into Buzz's head in a desperate attempt to free himself, but Buzz kept his face out of range, and Scott's blows, like everything else, bounced harmlessly off Buzz's skull.

The crowd saved Scott. As he and Buzz struggled back and forth, the simmering hostility between Garrison and Brian finally erupted into all out warfare, and a right cross from Garrison sent Brian careening right into Buzz from behind. Buzz, surprised, released Scott and turned his attention to this new opponent. Meanwhile, Blake and Rick were rolling around on the grass, digging their fists into each other's sides and cranking excruciating headlocks. Damien, momentarily bereft of an opponent, found himself nose-to-nose with partyboy John.

The street was a war zone, with fights breaking out all over the place. Young men grappled with each other and swung fists with abandon.

It was only a matter of time before Campus Security caught wind of the riot. A sharp-eared sophomore was the first to hear the siren and sound the alarm. Students scattered, back to their respective dorms or houses to have their wounds tended.

Scott made sure all his brothers were safe behind the frathouse door before heading for safety himself. Nikita had disappeared, but Scott knew that the campuswide war over him had only begun.

They met two nights later, in a secluded corner of the library. Buzz grumbled about missing Monday Night Football, but his ego was still smarting over the fracas over the weekend.

All eight chapter presidents were in attendance. With each new arrival, the tension inched just a little bit higher. Scott, since he'd called the meeting, spoke first. "Saturday night was a stupid move on all our parts," he began. "The administration doesn't care what we do behind closed doors, but brawling in the street like that could get us all expelled, and our houses shut down. I think I'm right in saying that none of us want that."

The other seven men nodded.

"Here's what I suggest. We all have scores to settle--and we all want Nikita in our houses. So, this Saturday night, we have a battle royale. All eight of us. Last man standing gets Nikita. If anyone wants to get personal--well, that's what these things are for. Sound good to all of you?"

It did, and all seven immediately agreed. There wasn't anything else to discuss. The eight chapter presidents returned to their houses, to prepare for a fight that would be talked about in awe for years to come.......

The week passed, as weeks tend to do, but for eight young men, each day felt like a century. Scott's challenge drove all but the most basic thoughts--eating, sleeping--from their minds. By Friday afternoon, seven of them were ready to pound the walls in frustration. Buzz actually did--fortunately there was enough plaster in the house to make repairs.

Saturday night finally arrived. The eight frats gathered in the common arena, surrounding the ring and leaving space for their leaders to march onto the battleground. They glared at each other, but no more than that; the battle royale would be the only fight tonight, and each frat's sergeant-at-arms had orders to enforce that with a club, if necessary.

A loud cheer erupted from the Lambdas as Buzz strode down the aisle and climbed into the ring. He looked huge, a mountain of muscle and sinew. He wore his championship belt, and gray, pornographically-tight trunks. He stood dead center in the ring, his body saying without words, "This is my turf. I am the master here."

Determined not to be outdone the Gammas gave an even louder ovation for Damien as he trotted into the ring. The California boy wore green trunks to match his eyes, and every muscle gleamed in the spotlight. He smiled his dazzling smile at his house, then turned his heartbreakingly beautiful face to the massively-muscled jock.

The Betas' ovation for Garrison was reserved--at least as reserved as college students can get. He marched down the aisle as a king among his subjects. Dressed in high cut white trunks, his movements were elegant, dignified, but his eyes were hard as steel.

Rick sprinted into the ring and leaped onto the top turnbuckle, to the wild cheers of the Zetas. The black-clad athlete dropped to the mat and bounced off all four sides of the ropes in turn, swatting Buzz on the rear in passing. The jock took a half step toward him, but Rick bounced away before Buzz could retaliate.

Epsilon screamed loud and long for Blake as the star athlete vaulted over the ropes and danced in place to warm up. Every perfect muscle on his body looked pumped and ready, making him seem as large as any other man in the ring, even though he was the smallest. He wore navy blue trunks and, like the other men, was barefoot.

Brian of Sigma was the next to enter the fray. He strutted down the aisle to the cheers of his frat, took his time getting into the ring, scratched the hip of his light blue trunks, and flipped it in Garrison's direction.

Suddenly it started raining! Raining beer, that is. John sprayed the crowd with the stuff, earning him some truly evil looks from the other frats and a wild ovation from the Deltas. He was careful not to get any on his scarlet trunks, though, and disposed of the beer before entering the ring.

And then it was Scott's turn. The silver-clad fighter strode down the aisle and climbed into the ring, no wasted movements, everything precise and calculated. He danced in place to get his blood and adrenaline pumping, and took careful note of where everyone else was in the ring.

The combatants were ready. The stage was set. Each man picked out a first opponent......

And the bell rang!

The ring erupted into mayhem as the eight young men launched themselves at each other. Garrison and Brian met in the center of the ring; Garrison was determined to eliminate the nouveau riche Californian, and Brian was equally bent on teaching the inbred stuffed shirt a painful and humiliating lesson.

Buzz tried to get at Scott, but was intercepted along the way by John and Rick; lacking any kind of hostility toward each other, the two decided to take the big man out first. Scott instead found himself teamed with Damien against Blake; the varsity wrestler was the smallest man in the ring, but had the most practical experience of any of them.

A clubbing overhand right by Damien sent Blake to his knees, and Scott followed up with a left roundhouse that laid the Epsilon man flat on his back. The two began to tattoo the prone fighter's chest and stomach with their feet. Blake rolled left and right, trying to avoid the blows.

Buzz endured nonstop pummelling from his two opponents, including a round kick from John that made his teeth rattle. Finally, he'd had enough. He grabbed a handful of Rick's hair, did the same for John, and sent their heads crashing together! The two smaller men collapsed to the mat, seeing stars. Buzz hesitated a moment, then began to savagely kick John. Scott could wait for now.

Nearby, Garrison ducked a roundhouse left from Brian and scooped the other wrestler up in a fireman's carry. He adjusted his enemy in midair, and then slammed him down to the mat hard enough to make him bounce. Pouncing on his fallen foe, Garrison straddled him and began raining fists down on Brian's unprotected face.

In the audience, Nikita watched as the eight men fought over him. In some respects, it was extremely flattering, he thought. Watching what they considered fair fighting, though, he admitted to himself that he was a little frightened, too.

Inside the ring, the three separate fights began to mingle. Blake struggled to his feet, blocked an overhand fist from Scott, and caught a wide-open Damien with a kick to the stomach that sent the prettyboy staggering backward--straight into Buzz's waiting arms. The huge jock maneuvered Damien into a corner and inflicted more punishment on his abs while Scott and Blake continued their battle.

Free from Buzz's attentions, John and Rick were able to climb to their feet. Rick nailed Garrison from behind with a kick between the Beta Chi man's shoulder blades, while John found a quiet corner and used the respite to try and clear his head.

Buzz soon tired of pounding Damien, and besides, he had a personal score to settle. He reached down, lifted his exhausted foe, started to throw him out of the ring.....and reconsidered. He twisted his body and brought Damien down hard across his knee. Damien slumped to the mat, stunned. Buzz stood, grinning, and went looking for Scott.

He didn't have to go far. Scott connected with a dropkick to Blake's jaw, but landed almost at Buzz's feet. "Hi, there," Buzz grinned, just as he viciously stomped on Scott's forehead. A galaxy of stars exploded behind Scott's eyes. He tried to get to his feet to fight back, but Buzz wasn't about to let him.

Meanwhile, Scott's dropkick had sent Blake into the ropes, where John was waiting. He swung a pair of hard chops into Blake's chest, the second lifting him four inches off his feet. Sensing a possible elimination, John grabbed Blake's legs and tried to force him over the ropes, but Blake jabbed his index and middle fingers into John's eye, and the partyboy released the hold and sank to his knees, clutching his face.

Desperate for any advantage against the much larger Garrison, Rick brought his forearm up between the blueblood's legs. Garrison crumbled to the mat in agony. Rick looked for someone else to brutalize, saw John still on his hands and knees, and pounced upon the prone wrestler. His arms snaked underneath John's to meet at John's neck, and Rick used the full nelson to grind John's face into the mat.

Blake, seeing his previous opponent snatched away from him, moved in on Garrison. Two stomps to Garrison's kidney sent the Cajun rolling onto his back. Blake snatched up Garrison's left leg, and executed a textbook legdrive.

Scott, in desperation, dove for Buzz's legs and sent the man-mountain tumbling over his shoulders. Before he could take advantage of the situation, however, he was blindsided by Brian. Meanwhile, Damien, with his second wind in him, leapt upon Blake before the athlete could follow up on his legdrive.

Damien dragged Blake to his feet by his hair, scooped him up, and amazingly pressed Blake over his head before slamming him down to the mat. Blake writhed in agony as pain shot up and down his back. Meanwhile, Buzz, on his hands and knees, tackled Scott from behind, just as Brian shoved him back. Scott went tumbling over Buzz's back, and Buzz and Brian went to work on the prone fighter.

Garrison had climbed up the ropes to his feet when what to his wondering eyes should appear.....but Blake's prone body, slammed there by Damien. Two swift kicks to Blake's shoulder conveyed louder than words that Garrison's legs was just fine, thank you for asking. Brian abandoned his assault on Scott and charged Damien, who had climbed to the middle rope, but Damien met him with a kick to the gut. Brian doubled over as the breath left his body, and Damien slapped on a tight headlock with one hand and started pounding Brian's face with the other.

Buzz continued to beat Scott, his fists leaving bruises on the lighter man's chest and back. A massive right hand sent Scott reeling to the mat, and Buzz, looking for fresh meat, saw Blake nail Garrison with a right cross. Buzz went after Blake, but Garrison still had some fight in him, and drove his elbow into the back of Buzz's neck. The three of them went down in a tangle of flailing arms and legs.

Damien leaped into the air and planted both his feet solidly on Brian's jaw, sending him staggering into the ropes. Scott, shaking his head to clear it, joined the three-man fight on the floor. Rick, growing bored with the full nelson, dragged John to his feet, whipped him into the ropes, and met him with a kick to the stomach.

But Blake had escaped the melee and nailed Rick with a dropkick just as John went down. Rick landed at Damien's feet, and Damien began stomping on him. Scott also left Buzz and Garrison, tackled Brian, and schoolboy pinned him, just as Buzz did the same to Garrison. After a half dozen solid shots, Buzz brought Garrison to his feet and bulled him into the ropes.

Buzz let his feet do the talking, kicking Garrison in the back and legs. But Garrison fought back, staggering Buzz with a solid shot right on the nose. Nearby, Damien continued his assault on Rick, bodyslamming him hard into the mat.

Brian twisted out from under Scott and sent him with a shove in the general direction of John, then joined Buzz to attack Garrison. The two big men hoisted Garrison up, and double suplexed him to the mat! Garrison was stunned and Buzz and Brian brought him up again and easily tossed him over the ropes to the floor below.

And then there were seven. Whether or not there was joy in Mudville, there was certainly none in the Beta Chi section. Meanwhile, the battle went on.

With Rick down, Damien chose Blake as his next target. He slammed into the Epsilon man with a flying knee right to his jaw, and followed up with a pair of hard right hands to the belly. Damien hurled Blake into the ropes, and as the athlete came hurtling back, wrapped him up in a sleeper! Panic grabbed Blake as he felt Damien's forearm against his carotid artery, cutting off the blood to his brain.

Brian and Buzz, having eliminated Garrison, turned to new prey. Brian tackled John, and the two men traded lefts and rights without a thought for defense. Scott, sensing that Buzz was coming for him, surprised the champ by taking the offensive. He rammed his shoulder into Buzz's gut, doubling the big man over, and then grabbed him by the hair and sent him headfirst into the turnbuckle. Buzz sank to a sitting position on the secod turnbuckle, but Scott connected with an uppercut that straightened Buzz right out. Lifting the enormous jock, Scott shifted him in mid air, and came crashing down on top of him in a huge powerslam!!!

Rick watched the three brawls in front of him with a sort of detached bemusement. He couldn't decide which one to join.

Blake felt consciousness slipping away as Damien held the sleeper as tightly as he could. Summoning up the last of his strength, he reached over his head, buckled down, and snapmared Damien over his head before sinking to the canvas and shaking his head to clear it.

Scott whipped Buzz into the ropes, intending to backdrop him.....but instead grinned evilly as Buzz's arms were tangled in with the top two ropes! Scott moved in slowly, easily evading Buzz's wild kicks, and finally nailed him deep in the stomach with a big left fist. "You know what payback is, don't you, Buzz?" Scott asked. And he fired another shot into Buzz's abs.

Blake, recovering, saw Scott working Buzz over, and moved to join him. Scott backed away, letting Blake occupy Buzz while he himself surveyed the rest of the ring. Brian and John were still going at it, but there was Rick and Damien moving in.

John suddenly found himself fighting alone against three opponents. He backed into a corner, and lashed out with desperate kicks and punches. But it was no use--Damien seized his right arm, Brian his left, and Rick his legs. Struggling, John was lifted into the air and unceremoniously dumped over the ropes to the floor outside.

Six exhausted fighters continued their epic battle. Tired but elated over the elimination of John, Damien punched the air with his fist in celebration and tackled both Blake and Buzz. He swiftly grabbed both by the hair and knocked their heads together. While Damien continued to punch and kick buzz, Blake slowly got to his feet, stood in place for a second or two--and then pitched over onto his face.

Brian threw one last taunt at the semiconscious John, then turned, and ran right into Scott's foot to the stomach. Brian hit the mat and Scott continued to kick and stomp him. But Brian fought back, and he and Scott were soon going toe-to-toe.

Rick saw that Blake was the only one without a dance partner, and rectified the situation. He grabbed a handful of the athlete's hair, dragged him to his feet, and set him into the ropes, narrowly missing Scott, who had been thrown in the opposite direction by Brian.

Meanwhile, Damien felt his adrenaline surge through his veins, as he pummelled the surprisingly helpless Buzz. With a strength that surprised everyone in the room, Damien lifted Buzz into a bodyslam position, and then pressed him, holding him there for a good five seconds!

Rebounding off the ropes, Blake was met with a roundhouse right from Rick, sending him to the floor at Damien's feet, just as Damien slammed Buzz down on top of him. Blake's ribs screamed their protest as the superheavyweight landed on them. Brian, meanwhile, slammed his forearm across Scott's throat, sending him down to the mat again.

Damien brought Buzz up in a full nelson; Rick did the same with Blake. Their eyes met, and they nodded. They backed to opposite corners, then charged, still holding the nelsons, obviously meaning to slam their victims together.......but Blake escaped. The whole thing collapsed into a chaotic pile-on, with Damien getting the worst of it!

Blake recovered first. He climbed to his feet, and went to help Scott with Brian. Meanwhile, a fired-up Buzz began practicing field goals, using Rick's head as the ball, while Damien staggered away and tried to recover his strength.

Blake hoisted Brian up into a over-the-knee backbreaker, position, while Scott hopped up to the second rope, intending to follow up. But Damien was there. Before Scott could leap onto the fallen Brian, Damien sent a stinging jab up to Scott's face, and Brian, now back on his feet, began to pound him.

Damien went back to the Rick-Buzz slugfest. He caught Buzz from behind, lifted him into the air, and dropped him with a back suplex. But Blake, watching the action from the ropes, nailed Damien with a flying bodypress while the prettyboy was still on his back. Rick, not to be left out, stomped on Blake's head after he landed.

Damien rolled away from Rick and Blake, and continued his work on Buzz. He slapped on a front facelock, moved his arms down Buzz's massive body to his waist, lifted him upside down, and drove him headfirst into the mat with a hard piledriver! Buzz was almost out of it. Damien lifted him up, carried him to a corner, and tried to get him over the ropes! Buzz fought back, weakly, grabbing the ropes with one hand and poking at Damien's eyes with the other. Damien settled for a shoulderbreaker, and Buzz screamed at the impact.

Blake and Rick continued to trade punches, but a wild miss by Rick left him wide open. Blake slammed him on the jaw with everything he had. Rick staggered back, reeling. Blake rushed him, bulled them both into the ropes, and used the rebound momentum to drive Rick over the opposite ropes and out of the match!

With Buzz down and momentarily out of the action, Damien was free--so Brian charged him! He bulled the smaller man into a corner and drove his knee repeatedly into Damien's stomach. But Blake came in from behind with a solid shot to Brian's kidneys. Brian's back arched in pain, and Blake frog-marched him across the ring, where Scott was waiting.

Buzz re-entered the fray and sent Damien into the ropes, but Damien caught him with a flying elbow that sent him down again.

A double whip by Scott and Blake sent Brian hard into the opposite buckle, and the new team turned their attention to Damien. But Brian wasn't done yet, and he joined the pile-on.

Damien, however, fought back with much greater success than John had before. A quick trip landed Blake on his face, and a back kick nailed Scott right in the gut. Brian switched targets, and began to kick Scott in the shoulder and neck. Scott reached out, grabbed one of Brian's ankles, and yanked as hard as he could, sending the moneyboy ass over teakettle.

Blake was back on his feet and had Damien on the ropes. One hand grabbed a wrist, the other Damien's neck, and Blake sent the face man across the ring, to crash into the opposite buckle--

--or at least, he would have, if Scott hadn't chosen just that moment to scramble to his feet. The collision was much worse on him than it was on Damien, who went back after Blake with renewed ferocity. He shot a left jab into Blake's face, and quickly followed with a right hook to Blake's liver that doubled him over. Damien then abandoned boxing for brawling, grabbed Blake by the head, and sent him stumbling into Brian. But Scott, recovering from the collision, nailed him from the side with a dropkick.

Damien shrugged it off, pounded his chest, and challenged Scott, "C'mon! Try it again!" Then, out of nowhere, Buzz launched himself into the air and connected with a thunderous dropkick from behind that sent Damien over the ropes and out of the match!

The battle lines were drawn, now--on one side was the newly-allied Scott and Blake, while on the other stood Buzz and Brian.

"Stood," of course, being a figurative term. Brian was still flat on his rear with Scott tap-dancing on his face, while Buzz had just delivered a dropkick and had only made it back to his knees. Undaunted, he swung a wild right at Blake, but Blake retaliated with an overhand right that sent Buzz right back down again.

Then Blake brought Buzz to his feet, sent him into the ropes, launched himself in the opposite direction, and smashed the big man to the mat with a cross body block! Scott, as if in tribute, did the same with Brian, and he and Blake high-fived each other in congratulation.

Brian slowly climbed to his feet, and Scott moved in. Buzz was still prone on the mat, and Blake decided to really punish the jock. The crowd screamed in anticipation as he climbed the buckles. He steadied himself, measured his man, launched himself into the air--

--and ate canvas. Buzz wasn't as stunned as he looked, and rolled away at the last second. He saw Brian and Scott battling away, and moved in. Let Brian have the elimination, he thought. I want that guy.

Buzz clubbed Scott with a two-fisted blow to the back of the neck that sent Scott to his knees. He locked eyes with Brian and jerked his head in the direction of the fallen, unmoving Blake. Brian understood. He dragged Blake to his feet--the varsity athlete came weakly to life and tried in vain to fight back--and draped Blake over the top rope. Brian reached down, grabbed Blake's ankles, shoved with all his strength......and just like that, Scott was alone against Buzz and Brian.

Scott told himself not to panic, but it was hard to take that advice. He spun on his heel and launched a solid back kick that caught Brian in the guts and sent him staggering back, then quickly sidestepped the charging Buzz. Brian came at him again, and Scott forearmed him in the chest to drive him off, then whirled and chopped the side of his hand into Buzz's throat.

They're not used to working with a partner, he thought. I need to get one of them out of here before they figure it out!

He kneed an onrushing Brian just north of the border, and sent a quick jab into Buzz's face that landed spang on the big jock's nose. Scott quickly brought Brian up and into the air, slammed him down hard, headlocked the doubled-over Buzz, and bulldogged him right onto the prone Brian!

Buzz had had enough. He got to his feet and roundhoused Scott before the other could react, then raked his fingers across Scott's eyes for bad measure. He secured a front facelock on Scott, and motioned for Brian to help himself. Brian sent a pair of stinging shots to Scott's ribs, trying his level best to break them.

Buzz and Brian each grabbed an arm, looked at each other, nodded, and double whipped Scott into the ropes--but Scott nailed the two of them with a double clothesline! He kicked Buzz in the head to keep him down, then brought Brian up and sent him crashing down again with a beautiful vertical suplex. Buzz got to his feet, but Scott sent him into the ropes and met him with an elbow right to the chin.

Scott knew it was now or never. He brought Brian up again for a second suplex--but this one was positioned to deposit Brian over the ropes! Brian landed hard, and it was more than a few minutes before he was able to move.

Buzz leaped on the still-prone Scott, and the two of them rolled back and forth on the mat, savagely punching each other in the ribs and bellies. Scott ended up on top, and with a strength fueled partially by desperation and partially by anger, literally pummelled the champ into submission. Buzz's eyes glazed over and rolled back into his head. Scott contemptuously brought him to his feet and tossed him over the ropes.

It was over. Scott's body trembled with exhaustion as his men filled the hall with their cheers. Scott slowly climbed out of the ring and staggered to Nikita. The Estonian lad ran to support his new friend, and the two headed straight for the frat house. No one saw either again for several days.