RyanCarrWeber The Weakest Link: Prologue

Christian vs. Tim vs. Eric

After the announcement, Eric, sitting with Christian and Tim, turned to them, apprehensive but trying hard to sound blase and comical, "heh, you guys ain't gonna whip my ass in the three corners match, are you? if you two want to be the team, I understand. I don't really need to wrestle anyway."

"You could do singles," Chris offered, and recovered quickly, "though I don't see why you're less part of this team than either of us."

"Well, you're brothers. Besides, I'd probably lose the match anyway. I should just quit."

"Oh, shut up, dude," the older brother snapped. "Stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself! You're a fine wrestler, and you're gonna do the match."

"Fine, fine.... I'll see you guys later." Eric took leave of his friends outside TW Gym and walked off, while Chris and Tim just looked at each other.

***

On the day of the match, the three went through their usual team preparations, warming up together, psyching each other up.

Chris intoned, "hey, this may be our last act as a threeteam, but no matter what, we're all still friends, right? On three."

They chanted, together, "THREE, TWO, ONE, TWO, THREE, RIGHT!"

They walked out together and waited at the entrance to ringside. The announcer took the cue and announced them together. "The following match is the first in the series of three-team split ups to be done as three corners matches. Entering now, please welcome, at a combined weight of 434 pounds, CHRISTIAN, TIM, and ERIC!"

The three ran down to the ring together and bounced around it. Then Eric stepped out onto the apron, leaving the brothers to start against each other.

The announcer continued, "this match will go until one wrestler is either pinned or submits. No countouts will be called, and neither will disqualifications be given for interference by the third man, as that call would leave us with one winner and two losers."

DING

DING

Tim started the match by leaping at his brother and clotheslining him to the mat. He dropped a quick elbow to Christian's chest before pulling him to his feet. Twisting the arm into a hammerlock, he guided Christian over to the corner, where, in their normal fashion he made an early first tag to Eric. Eric entered and lifted a knee to Christian's exposed gut. Tim released the hammerlock, letting Chris drop to his knees, and stepped to the outside. Eric pulled Chris up and irish whipped him into the ropes, leaping at him with a cross-body block that landed Chris on his back with Eric on top. The ref dropped to count 1....2.... Chris rolled over under Eric's small weight, and then stood up, guided to his feet by Eric. The smaller boy again tossed Chris into the ropes and he rebounded readier than before, ducking a clothesline attempt and, on the second rebound, taking Eric down with a flying straddle. Chris landed in a schoolboy pin on Eric and punched him once in the head.

Chris stood up and pulled Eric to his feet. He hooked Eric into a front-face lock, and hooked one of Eric's arms over his own neck. Grabbing the waistband of Eric's bike shorts, Chris lifted him into the air over his head and fell back for a textbook suplex. Standing, Chris pulled a winded Eric into position and tagged Tim. Tim climbed to the top turnbuckle rather than through the ropes and entered with a flying elbow which smashed down accross Eric's chest. The move was very effective, as Eric rolled to his side, though Tim also felt the effect of his hips slamming into the mat harder than he had expected.

Tim got to his feet slowly, and then pulled Eric to his. Eric was whipped toward a corner, but reversed it, irish whipping Tim into a corner, followed closely by a clothesline by Eric wich connected hard with Tim's trapped torso. Eric led Tim out to the center of the ring and crotchslammed him dead-center before tagging out to Chris. Chris entered through the ropes, but then climbed to the second turnbuckle. He leapt and nailed Tim with a legdrop accross the chest. Chris pulled Tim to his feet and whipped him into the ropes, wrapping him up as he returned into a well-applied abdominal stretch. Chris cranked it on, arching his own back to get the best leverage. Eric reached out a hand to offer Chris additional leverage, but he declined.

The bigger teen looked over at Tim and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Chris walked over to Eric, pulled him up to his feet from his knees and immediately crotch-slammed him right back down to the center of the ring. Chris bounced off the ropes and landed a massive leg-drop accross Eric's thin chest. He got up and tagged in Tim, who climbed to the top turnbuckle and slammed down onto Eric, who bounced with the impact of Tim's 149 pounds crashing full-weight onto him. Eric was aching, but kicked out of an attempted pin at two. Tim got up and grabbed each of Eric's legs in an arm, rolling him over into a Boston Crab, which he cranked on as tightly as his lanky frame would allow on the more compact wrestler. Eric moaned as he was stretched, and resolved not to submit.

After nearly five minutes of leaning back as far as he could, Tim gave up on bending the nimble bike boy into submission. He dragged Eric, still face down and breathing heavily, to the center of the ring. Tim bounced off the ropes above Eric's head, then off the opposite ropes, gaining momentum for a vertical splash onto the boy's upper back. Eric's breath was driven out as Tim's full weight crashed into a sitting position on his back. When Tim got up, Eric arched his back, practically writing on the mat as Tim tagged in Christian.

Christian got right to work. He pulled little Eric to his feet and Irish whipped him into a corner with such force that he bounced back out of it, falling face-first to the mat. Chris picked him up, backing him into the corner and draping his arms over the top rope. Taking hold of the middle rope, Christian drove his shoulder repeatedly into Eric's slight midsection, causing the boy to become lodged between the middle and top ropes, grimacing in pain as his abs were assaulted. Chris straightened him up yet again and walked accross the ring. Chris ran for a full-body press, but Eric saw it coming and dug deep, throwing himself out of the way in the direction of Tim's waiting tag.

Chris's chest slammed into the top turnbuckle at full speed, severely winding him. He fell to the mat, clutching his chest, while Eric crawled slowly towards Tim. Momentarily, Chris went to head off the tag, but just as he was about to slap Eric's hand away from Tim's, the tag was made. Tim stepped slowly through the ropes and pulled Chris to his feet. He whipped him into the opposite corner and connected with a body block. Christian was further winded, and Tim followed up with a series of three forearms to Christian's taut stomach. He led Chris back to the center of the ring, and slammed him dead center. "Ready, Eric?" Tim yelled, maintaining eye contact with Chris. Eric caught on quickly, and climbed to the top, nodding as Tim tagged his leg.

Eric leapt from the turnbuckle, tucking and stretching in a textbook frog splash that slammed down onto .... Christian's raised knees. Eric rolled away, clutching his utterly busted abs, kicking at the mat, feeling like he had to wretch. Tim just watched from the apron as Eric rolled to the floor, and then he followed the boy down. He helped Eric to his feet, and then pulled him into position for a suplex. While Chris continued to regain strength in the ring, Tim lifted Eric, holding him for twenty seconds before falling FORWARD, slamming Eric's front onto the lightly padded cement floor of the TBW Arena. He pulled Eric to his feet again and rolled him into the ring by his trunks.

Little Eric was in serious pain and still holding his tender guts as Chris pulled him to his feet. Eric took a blind shot, hazarding a punch that barely connected with Chris's abs. The older boy shrugged it off and backed Eric into the ropes, where he tied his arms. With Eric bound, Chris unleashed a flurry of stomps to the boy's already aching abs. Eric whimpered and begged Chris to let up. "Submit, then," Chris said. But Eric wouldn't. His little body was almost totally limp with the pain when Chris gave up and tagged out to Tim. By the time Tim got to Eric, the ref had untied the boy and he was clutching his midsection, laying prone on the mat.

Tim measured Eric for a harsh elbow, which he followed with three more of the same before pulling the boy to his feet and tossing him in the ropes. Tim stayed accross the ring, and met Eric's return with a back-body drop, which sent the lighty over the ropes and careening to the padded cement floor.

Chris was on him instantly, helping him up, asking if he wanted to end it, making sure he was alright. Eric insisted he could go on, if he could just tag out soon, and Chris said, "well, get over to me!" Eric SO wanted to be a part of this team.... he just had to prove himself to the brothers. Chris rolled Eric back into the ring, where Tim was waiting with a stomp to the head. He dragged Eric to the center of the ring and positioned him there before tagging in Chris, who entered with a splash off the top turnbuckle, his 152 pounds smashing down upon Eric's already-weary torso. Chris hooked a leg, pulling Eric tight. The ref counted, 1....... 2........ as the ref's hand began to fall a third time, Eric kicked out with the last of his energy.

Chris got up, and signaled over to Tim. Tim climbed to the top turnbuckle and waited. Chris pulled Eric to his feet and over to the corner which Tim had ascended. Tucking Eric's head between his legs, Chris swung him up for a powerbomb, so that Eric was sitting on his shoulders, with Chris's face in his crotch and Tim on the ropes in front of him. All at once, Tim jumped and Chris slammed the boy down, so that as Chris's maneuver slammed Eric's small frame to the mat, Tim's full weight crashed down onto his chest. Tim remained there, in a schoolboy pin, sitting on Eric's chest as the ref counted an easy three.

After the match, Tim and Chris helped Eric back to the lockerroom, praising how tough he'd been. "If you'd only gotten to tag one of us," they said, but it offered little consolation. And his mood wasn't helped when they left the arena for home together, leaving him behind, alone and out of the tag team.

Later, in the locker room Eric felt dejected. He had dominated, dammit, for a bit, anyway. But it wasn't enough. The other two had taken licks, but still the little guy was the one to go. It was, Eric supposed, as it should be.

He looked up as Kevin entered and immediately his aching stomach began to churn, fearful of the pounding he expected Kevin would probably deliver. The posse leader saw his apprehension and assuaged his fears, "chill out, Eric, I ain't gonna attack you. You've earned too much of my respect." Eric visibly relaxed. "I know I have a reputation as a schemer, but I always respect guys who try their hardest even when they're being plotted against."

"Shut up, Kevin," Eric retorted, defending his friends. "Chris and Tim are my friends. It was a straight fight. I lost. It's not so hard to grasp."

"How can you be so naïve? You're the one who's having trouble seeing that you were double crossed. Did you actually watch any of the moves they did on each other? They were pulling punches, dude." Eric was getting angrier, more defensive, so Kevin spilt everything he knew.

Chris and Tim had known they had to approach this issue delicately. Eric was their friend, after all, one of their best, but the brothers knew that it made the most sense for the two of them to stick together. They were, first of all, brothers. Secondly, they were closer in weight and little Eric had proven an albatross several times. They decided, when they got home that night, that Eric would have to go, though they knew it wouldn't be easy.

"I feel like we should just go into the match and let it be fair - he's fifteen pound s lighter than either of us… it's not like we have to plan for him to be the one to lose," Christian had said to his brother the next day at the gym as they were discussing the issue, having forgotten to check the weight room for any lurkers - namely Kevin, who had filed the overheard plotting in his mind for possible use later.

"We need to kick his ass, after he tries to kick ours."

"Yeah, make him see he's the weak link so he'll want to leave."

Tim parroted, "you are the weakest link," and both finished the line: "goodbye."

Eric was stunned. He hated that what he had feared had been proven true. And he wanted revenge. Yes, the match had been fair. It wasn't like they cheated or beat the shit out of him for pure pleasure. But they hadn't had the decency to just tell him they wanted to stay a team, which he would have understood.

"Bastards! They fucking lied to me. Immature fucking pricks." Eric kicked a nearby locker, hard enough to dent it, and Kevin simply watched and listened. "Thanks for telling me, dude. God, I want to see their precious little brotherly team destroyed."

"That might be arranged."

"Huh?"

"I have a proposition for you." Kevin was smiling ear to ear as he sat down and began to explain. "I had thought you were a joke. As a team, you guys were. But you took a hell of a beating before you submitted tonight. You're tough; tougher than either of them. Join my posse. If you do, I'll see to it that a one-shot team you're on destroys them."

The idea sounded great to Eric.... until he realized what Kevin meant. And thought of his friends - and he did still think mostly fondly of them - getting pulverized by one of Kevin's HW minions. He sat down, ready to decline, but in sitting strained his back. He remembered again the needless punishment he'd endured.

"You're on."

Kevin smiled wickedly, indeed his most frequent smile, and replied, "welcome to my Posse."