Ace Aarons: 5'9, 187 Luke wasted and lifeless in the inverted bearhug An abstretch has rookie babyface crying for mercy The rook embraces his heel debut as he chokes the air out of the jobber with the ring ropes Luke's face as he clutches for an imaginary life ring as he drowns in the soul-sucking bearhug Luke may not be able to walk out of the ring as his already weakened spine is stomped
Sleeping Beauty
It's a rare treat to watch two rookies debut against one another. Both Ace Aarons and Luke Lonza claimed extensive indy pro wrestling experience on their BG East applications. Both of them are devastatingly handsome and beautifully built. On paper, this was supposed to be a close battle, but it appears that someone was padding his resume.
"I'm ready for some competition today, that's for sure, yes siree!" Luke chatters to himself, stretching out his tanned, teen-heartthrob body before the match. His rosy cheeks and perfectly coiffed pompadour would have made Luke the winner of beach blanket bingo 60 years ago, particularly in his stark white, sensationally tight square cut trunks. To call Luke pretty doesn't quite cover it. He's excessively prepossessing.
"Ready for competition, huh?" Ace asks, climbing into the ring sporting silver trunks, black boots, and extensive body art. His bearded face and bald head strike a dissonant chord next to Luke's butter smooth young body. "You think you're ready for this?" Ace demands to know. "Yeah, I know I am!" the teeny bopper insists with a detectable note of anxiety rising in his tenor voice.
Luke is still checking the altitude of his hair when Ace slams him to the mat and cinches on bodyscissors and a sleeper. "You still think you're ready?" Ace asks again, flexing his big, beautiful bicep pressed tightly against the kid's carotid artery. Luke is buttoned up and sagging within seconds. In what very well could be the fastest knockout in BG East history, dashing Luke is slack and unconscious within seconds of the start of the match!
It's an objective fact that Luke is patently outclassed and in entirely over his head. Far less clear is where Luke finds the balls to refuse to formally submit when Ace slaps him awake. "Where am I? Oh, no, I'm ready for competition!" Luke insists groggily, opening his eyes to the waking nightmare he's found himself in.
Ace is solid core pro heel. He picks apart Luke's luscious young body piece by piece with sensational chain wrestling. Chicken wings stretch out the teeny bopper's baby smooth chest while yanking his shoulders out of their sockets. Smoothly adjusting his grip, Ace yanks the flush-faced kid to his feet in a neck wrenching full nelson. Tied in the ropes, twisted like a pretzel around a ring post, Luke gets a first class tour of every diabolical torture that a pro wrestling ring offers, with a snarling, contemptuous heel as his tour guide. Ace possesses his body at will, riding him in a camel clutch and prying his back in half in a gorgeously executed Boston crab.
Wherever Luke is hiding all of that vaunted indy pro experience he was bragging about, he's putty in his opponent's hands. He has zero counter moves. He doesn't know the first thing about a reversal. The only thing he manages to succeed doing, repeatedly, is obsessively fixing his hair when it gets mussed up by the manhandling he's suffering.
Actually, there's one other thing Luke somehow manages to succeed at, despite the spectacular mismatch. He persistently manages to frustrate Ace's deep, raging desire to hear the kid submit. He's sleepered unconscious repeatedly, refusing to give the hot heel the satisfaction of tapping. He passes out from the pain several times, his body twisted and wrenched joint from joint, but Luke stubbornly rides the agony to oblivion rather than admit that he's imprudently bluffed his way into this living hell, and that Ace is the better man.
Luke's stubborn refusal to admit the obvious finally crumbles underneath an avalanche of bitter brutality from the truly seasoned pro in the ring. Luke finally submits to an abdominal stretch, then to a torture rack, then to a hangman. When he isn't passed out from the pain, Luke is openly sobbing, begging for it all to be over. "I can't do this anymore," he cries in a bearhug, still fixing his hair even in the midst of his absolute humiliation. "Oh, now you're done?" Ace flares angrily. "Well, I'm not done!"
Fans of achingly-pretty-boy destruction and stark terror in the ring will feast for days on the epic unmasking of a delectably doomed Luke. And everyone can learn from this cautionary tale about the dangers of padding your wrestling resume.
Luke helpless as the fellow newbie works a leg nelson
Luke lets out a heart-rending cry of pain as he's bent in a torture rack
Ace works a bow and arrow variation over his knee
A brutal bow-and-arrow variation on the ringpost has the fresh-faced babyface screaming
Luke arches and bulges in the high booted corner choke
Ace pulls down hard to work the babyface's spine further with the torture rack
Luke Lonza: 5'9, 185 Ace wraps around Luke like an anaconda, working a cobra clutch bodyscissors combo A camel clutch variation has the new jobber on the block screaming bloody murder Ace loving his dominance as he bends Luke back in the inverted headlock Ace displays his dominance over the jobber as he carries his wasted bod on his shoulders A camel choke wrecks Lonza's spine even further
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