AN UN-FLAIR FIGHT

BY

BOB WRIGHT

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first in a planned series of stories that would basically be considered "The New Adventures of Hulk Hogan's Rock 'n Wrestling." They are set at an unspecified time during the 80s-early 90s golden age of the sport, encompassing essentially "a year in the life." Kayfabe will be more or less in effect in this series, although real life will occasionally be brought into the mix as well, with a few actual WWF storylines from back in the day being adapted every now and then. While of course real persons will be brought to life in this series, and a few real life traits will be shown every now and then, their portrayals here are more or less fictional, and all character personalities are copyrighted by World Wrestling Entertainment, all rights reserved.

This series is dedicated with respect to the memories of:

-Andre Rousimoff

-Randy Poffo

-Elizabeth Hulette

-David Boy Smith

-Sherri Martel

-Freddie Blassie

-Richard Rood

-Curt Henning

-Ray Traylor

-John Tenta

and all the rest of the greats that made the Golden Age of wrestling so entertaining that are no longer with us. And now, as usual, sit back and enjoy the series.

NOT THAT LONG AGO IN AN ARENA NOT THAT FAR AWAY...

It was crunch time. Ten more lifts in just thirty seconds to meet his self-appointed goal for this last workout before the big match. But Hulk Hogan knew it was something well within his reach.

Straining with all his muscles, he pressed the barbell up over his head repeatedly, trying to block all other thoughts out of his mind. And so, he had in fact completed twelve when the soft, slightly Southern voice gently called out "Time." With a deep breath, he let his spotter take the barbell off his hands and looked upwards. "You think I'm ready?" he asked knowingly.

"Hulk, I'd be willing to say you're in the best shape of your career right now," the very lovely Elizabeth Hulette told him with an encouraging smile. She turned to the right. "Nice work on the spotting, Tito; now let's see what you can do. Hulk, switch with him."

"Gotcha," Hulk rose off the bench press couch and let a ready to go Tito Santana lay down for his turn. Before he could hand him the barbell, however, the door to the main training room swung open wide. "The Madness says dinner's here, ooooooooooooooh yeah!" came the eager shout from behind the large stack of takeout boxes obscuring the newcomer's face.

"Over there on the table, Randy; we're not quite done yet," Elizabeth pointed to the one in the corner.

"And I'm not done either, 'cause I got something else on the way back, too," the boxes went down on the table, revealing the shaded face of Macho Man Randy Savage. Digging through his pocket, he stepped forward towards Elizabeth. "I know I've given you a lot of these lately, but I'd say the best wife in the world deserves nothing less, so..."

He produced a stunning diamond necklace from his pocket. "Oh Randy, I...you didn't have to..." Elizabeth stammered gratefully as he attached them around her neck.

"Oooooooh yeah I did," he pulled her close, "I wanted you to look the best tonight when I skin that snake Roberts on national TV for you."

The two of them kissed. Hulk smiled warmly. "He really does care for her, doesn't he?" he asided to Santana on the bench press table.

"Absolutely, amigo," Santana nodded firmly, "But between all the jewelry and the fancy dresses he gets her every other week, I don't know how they stay solvent."

"Well, they are solvent, and if we helped in any way, all the better," Hulk glanced around the room with a satisfied expression. Indeed, ever since the Mega Powers had formed, Hulette's Wrestling Emporium had taken off once word had gotten around that the biggest and most popular stars in the World Wrestling Federation worked out there. Even now, he could see the kids on the other side of the glass looking in at their heroes getting in shape.

But not just any heroes. The best of the best in the business. Since word had gotten around that many of his most adamant foes had been forming together a super group to take down the Mega Powers, Hulk had decided in conjunction with Savage to form their own super alliance of wrestlers, men who believed in the same values they themselves now did. And since then, the "Mega Powers Rock 'n Wrestling Connection" (Savage had bristled at such an ungamely name at first, but had since warmed up to it) had easily become the hottest ticket in all of wrestling.

Assembling the dream team had been at times easy and at times challenging. But Hulk had had one name on the list from the very start: his idol since he started in the business, Andre the Giant. Although the big man's career was starting to wind down by now, he was still a force to be reckoned with, and indeed on the other side of the ring, the oversized French wrestler was almost yanking the weights off the machine every time he pulled the bars with his immense strength. Another key component had been obvious from the start as well, not least of all given his current standing as Intercontinetal world heavyyweight champion, and inside the large practice ring in the center of the room, he was now leaping off the top rope in a blur of pink and black. Scion of arguably the best wrestling family in the world, "Hitman" Bret Hart had been rocketing up the ranks ever since he'd gone single and was now hovering around the number one contender position. While Hart had in fact been more than open to joining, though, he had insisted his brother-in-law be invited as well as a precondition. But that had been no problem for the Mega Powers, for the British Bulldog Davey Boy Smith, kicking the flying Bret off himself in the ring, was also of top notch caliber.

Other talent had auditioned, but not all had fit the criteria he and Savage had laid out. Slowly but surely, the field had been winnowed down to four addition team members. Santana, as part of a previous alignment with Hulk not too long ago, had two runs as Intercontenal Champion, and had been chosen for durability (and besides, Hulk knew, the athetic Mexican needed some communal arrangement after the violent breakup of his former tag team recently). Doing chin-ups along the near wall, Ricky "the Dragon" Steamboat had just returned to active action following a sabbatical for his son's birth, and thus had almost missed the cut, but he had indicated that if they'd waited long enough he'd be eager to join (although he did still have some reservations being on the same team with Savage, the two of them having a not all that pleasant background dating from before Savage had met Elizabeth). And Hulk himself had been reluctant to hire the two remaining team members, who had once been brutal rivals to him, but he had since been convinced Rowdy Roddy Piper and the Big Boss Man had fully reformed themselves into better people, and thus had decided to bring them on. Still, as he watched them bench pressing nearby, it did feel strange to a degree working with people who once wanted nothing more than to kill him. But nicer people they had indeed become-and under Elizabeth's informal tuteledge, it seemed they'd become even better than before (Savage, though, declined to let his wife directly manage anyone else in actual bouts-he had in fact been quite firm about this, although so far Elizabeth didn't seem to mind).

The boisterous Scotsman now eager tossed the barbell to the floor-almost on top of the Boss Man's foot, in fact-as Savage called out, "Come and get it!" to the rest of the team and galloped over to the table by the front window ahead of everyone else. "Just a hamburger?" he looked supremely disappointed as he opened the carton in front of his seat.

"Well come on, Roddy, we can't be too much out of shape for tonight's show," Hulk reminded him, sitting down across from him.

"But I'm not even on tonight's show!" Piper all but whined, "I wanted something full course!"

"Well consider it advance advice for next month's Summer Slam," Savage grumbled at him, "And besides, the kids don't want a fat Piper to sign the autographs for, right?"

He gestured at the eager faces still pressed against the glass not far away as Elizabeth went over and opened the door. "OK everyone, we're going to have a little dinner now; once we're done, you can all come in for the autographs," she told them all gently, pulling the curtain over the window shut for privacy. "I never get tired of this," she remarked with a smile, sitting down next to her husband and taking out her hamburger, "No matter what everyone else thinks of us, we're heroes to them."

"Oh absolutely," Andre agreed between chomps of his king-sized hamburger, "Without the fans, what we do isn't worth anything."

"Well you'd probably draw anyway, Andre," Steamboat patted the Giant on the back, "I'd say all of us are still basically clinging to you, even Hulk."

"Well, I'm not sure about that, Rick; as world champion of the biggest wrestling organization in the business, I think Hulk's carved out a pretty good niche of his own; Mathilda, here you go, girl," Davey held out a piece of bun for his pet bulldog, who eagerly came scurrying out of the corner to take it.

"But with all due respect to Hulk, Andre put wrestling on the map in the first place," Bret interceded, somewhat reluctantly handing his own piece of bun to the bulldog as well, "And what we really all have to thank is Tunney's efforts in trying to promote us to a wider audience; some day, people are going to look back and commend him on being a visionary."

"Amen," Hulk nodded with another bite; there was no denying that WWF President Jack Tunney had been running one of the best businesses in the industry ever since he'd taken over. Unlike the rough and tumble atmosphere of the other territories, the WWF's focus on family and fair play had been a consistent winner over the last few years.

There came a knock on the door. "Uh, sorry to intrude, everyone," Elizabeth's assistant Amanda stuck her head in, "But Okerlund's here for the interview with Hulk on the main event tonight, and then they want to shoot the promos for the intro afterwards."

"Well send them in, then," Hulk rold her. Moments later, the familiar figure of Mean Gene Okerlund squeezed through the door, microphone in hand and a cameraman in tow. "Hulkster," he greeted the world champion warmly, "This shouldn't take too much of your time; just something they wanted to run before the match."

"Just show me where you want me, Mean Gene," Hulk nodded.

"OK, uh, right over there by that stack of weights should be good," Okerlund pointed. Hulk sauntered over towards it and waited until the camera had white balanced (off Steamboat's robe) and focused. "We're here at the now popular Hulette's Wrestling Emporium with WWF world heavyweight champion Hulk Hogan as he prepares for what might be the biggest title defense of his career; Hulkster, are you worried at all about the claims that Nature Boy Ric Flair has made claiming he's the real world's champion?"

"Well you know something, Mean Gene," Hulk grandly proclaimed, "Ric Flair has certainly talked the talk, but so many other so-called contenders have failed to walk the walk when the time came to stand in the ring with the Mania. Tonight, the Nature Boy will feel...!"

Without warning, the door to the primary training room was shoved open behind them. "...told you, you can't come in here!" Amanda was protesting ineffectively to the intruder.

"Cork it, toots," the old man in the loud purple suit pushed past her, then turned the camera lens towards himself with his cane. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the REAL world's champion!" he declared emphatically, "Who tonight will make...!"

"Blassie, this isn't your segment!" Bret rose up indignantly, followed by the rest of the team, "So get...!"

"The REAL world's champion, Ric Flair!" Classy Freddie Blassie ignored him and pointed grandly towards the door with his cane. "WOOOOOO!" came the shout as the bleached-hair wrestler in the black, diamond and feather encrusted robe spun through the door. "Well, well, face to face at last, big man," he cockily sized Hulk up, "Tonight, the running ends on Saturday Night's Main Event, and it'll be a pleasure when I hoist your belt high and add it to my collection. Then, all the dumb stupid kids will have a real hero to look up to, the REAL world's champion, WOOOOOO!"

"Well now wait a minute, Ric Flair!" Okerlund cut in, "Hulk Hogan IS a fine hero for the kids! And furthermore, I don't think he's been running from you at all, not when he has so many other contractual obligations to...!"

"Let me tell you something, Okerlund, you pencil-neck geek!" Blassie cut in, seizing the microphone, "We all know full well that dolt Jack Tunney is protecting this Benedict Arnold here," he gestured contemptuously at Hulk, "Since when has he ever had a REAL challenge since he stole my belt off my man the Iron Shiek...?"

"YOUR belt?" Hulk was enraged, "It's not YOUR belt, Blassie; it belongs to no one but whoever can actually earn it!" he gestured at the title around his waist, "And you and the Iron Shiek certainly didn't earn it when...!"

"Of course I earned it, Hogan you chump; I spent thirty years in this racket trying to earn it!" Blassie roared back at him, "And Ric here is so much more better than you; he's actually won in the other territories when it counted...!"

"Sure, Blassie," Bret stepped forward, frowning, "If you call pulling every cheat in the book to get his titles earning it..."

"And I have a belt to prove it," Flair undid his robe and removed the admittedly impressive golden belt entitled RIC FLAIR: REAL WORLD'S CHAMPION on it, "It's better than your belt, Hart, and yours'll look a whole lot worse when I have the WWF title to compliment it. And now that I'm with the best and classiest manager of them all," he put an arm around Blassie, "I can guarantee the public," he smiled confidently into the camera, "That tonight's match will be one that will be remembered for years to come, as the end of Hulkamania for good, WOOOOO!"

"Well a lot of people would disagree with that, Ric Flair; in fact, I for one see Hulk Hogan remaining champion," Okerlund said defiantly.

"Oh really, Okerlund? Well no one here asked for your opinion, did they?" Blassie gave the reporter a sharp poke with his cane. "I've been looking forward to this for a long time," he glared Hulk down, "Tonight, Hogan, the real world's champion will get me what's rightfully mine back and ruin your career for good, which is what happens to all traitors. Let's go, Ric; I think we got our point across."

"Gotcha," Flair, though, stayed put, staring cockily right at Elizabeth. "Sure aren't keeping good company today, are we?" he almost taunted her.

"Ric, please, just leave," she told him bitterly.

"Oh I see, I'm no longer..." Flair was cut off as Savage leaped up and seized him by the robe. "The lady said get outta here, Flair," the Macho Man threatened him, "Or would you like to go through your match tonight with a Macho Madness hangover, yeah!"

"Oh, I'm really scared by..." Flair abruptly did turn scared as Andre rose up behind Savage, towering over all three of them with a scowl. "Uh, Freddie, wait for me," he hastily backpedaled out of the room after his manager. "All right, folks, you saw it right here; bad blood between the champion and challenger even before the match starts," Okerlund regained his composure and turned back to the camera, "Needless to say, this should make the match all the more exciting; now, back to ringside."

He took a deep breath as he signed off. "I swear, Blassie's people just seem to be getting crazier and crazier every day," he remarked softly to the cameraman.

"Well don't you worry, Gene, they ain't coming in here again if they know what's good for them," Piper said confidently, flexing his muscles.

"Thanks, Roddy, that makes me feel at ease," Okerlund said, looking a little uneasy around Piper as well, "Uh, intros..."

"Right, we're ready. Hold these, Roddy," Bret handed his shades to the Scotsman and trotted over to a blue screen wall against the far corner. His face twisted into a determined expression as the camera's light went on. "Ted DiBiase, you keep going on and on and on about how your money makes you better than everyone else," he said firmly straight into the camera, "Well tonight, it'll be my pleasure to take you down a few notches, and no amount of money's going to save you this time when you are, on national television, excellently executed."

He looked a little hesitant once the camera's light went off. "Was that intense enough?" he asked the cameraman, "I wasn't over the top...?"

"Nope, that should cut it, Mr. Hart," the cameraman nodded, "Mr. Macho?"

Savage eagerly bounded over to the blue screen, Elizabeth in tow. "Jake 'the Snake' Roberts, they say an elephant never forgets; well the Macho Man don't forget either, yeah," he growled furiously at the camera, "I'll never forget the poison running through my veins, but I especially won't forget or forgive you putting your slimy hands on Elizabeth! You hurt her, and you embarassed her, and tonight what goes around comes around, yeah! (he flung his shades away and glared furiously into the camera, pointing straight at it) Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Macho Man; vengeance is mine!"

He "danced" triumphantly away as Hulk confidently replaced him for the finaly promo. "Real world's champion, Ric Flair? Don't make me laugh!" he all but snorted at the camera, "You may have a fancy belt, but it's clear you don't believe in the prayers, the vitamins, and the training, or anything that really matters! It's put up or shut up time, Ric Flair, and whatcha gonna do when the 24-inch pythons run wild on you!"

He struck a strong, muscular pose. "OK, excellent," the cameraman flashed Okerlund a thumbs up.

"All right, thank you everyone," Okerlund congratulated the group, "And good luck with your matches tonight."

"Thank you, Gene," Elizabeth told him in turn, "And on your way out, let the kids in; I promised them it's autograph time."

"Certainly," Okerlund told her. "Ah, I like this job, Rob," he confided in the cameraman as they held open the door for the throngs of kids now streaming in for autographs, "Especially with Hulk and his team-not those OTHER guys..."