Author's Note

No I don't watch wrestling and this was supposed to be posted last week, but stupid me accidentally deleted it and I humbly apologies for the delay.

2) Nail vs. Edge - The Revival Match (version: 1.01)

The griffin winter is incredibly cold and fierce. Ulrich, the owner of the Arena and a griffin himself, often found himself hiring weather pegasi to come and change the weather just so he could hold a match on its scheduled day. Needless to say, the price tag for such an operation was enormous. To escape having to pay the bill very often, Ulrich decided long ago to have the Arena only operate 10 months of the year, leaving the two months with the lowest temperatures and most ferocious snow storms as a kind of "resting period" for the Arena. A time when necessary paperwork is filled out and new employees are hired.

The Championship is always the last match of the year and the largest money maker for the Arena. Once the two month rest is up, however, the second biggest money maker is hosted at the start of the new season. Surrounded in superstitions with the combatants picked by a random draw, The Revival Match always promises to be a wild opening to yet another year of bloodshed.

The Arena was filling up quickly today and the rumble of a thousand hooves and claws clicking on stone walkways made it all the way down into the locker rooms underground where one fighter was getting ready. Edge was seated on a simple wooden bench with four rolls of cotton bandages beside him. He was meticulously wrapping his ankles and wrists in the frail fabric while he hummed an old lullaby he'd learned when he was just a puppy. Despite the sad memories the song trudged up, Edge was feeling optimistic about the coming fight. Many fans would find this piece of information surprising after what had happened last year.

Edge could still picture the failure as clear as day: the misplaced kick, his enemy in the perfect position to strike, and the horrible crackle of his entire leg being smashed into powder. At the time, he had feared it was the end of his career. But pony magic was amazing. Not only had he made a full recovery, but he didn't even have a scar to show for it. Edge had to give credit to the fact the Arena employed the best doctors in the world. If he'd been anywhere else with an injury that serious it is likely he would never have walked again. And that's assuming he'd even been allowed to keep the leg.

As Edge continued to wind the cloth around his wrist, he smiled. "I'm not going to blow the Revival Match," he reassured himself confidently.

There was a saying in the Arena: "those who win the Revival Match will have supernatural protection from the God of War for one year." Edge didn't know for sure whether the gods existed, but it couldn't hurt to try and get one on his side.

"Time to go boy!" called a familiar brown draft horse from the brick doorway.

Edge nodded once and quickly finished his wrappings. He set the unused portions aside and rose from his perch to follow the earth pony down a lone corridor that led straight to the gates that opened to the battlefield outside. To the right was a crank with a braided rope wrapped around a wheel that served as a means to open the door. It would take a creature of trained muscle to turn it, luckily there was one present to do it for Edge.

"I got 300 bits on you, so you better not let me down," the pony warned Edge with a playful smile.

Edge gave him a thumbs-up as the telltale voice of the announcer boomed through the walls...

"I give you... EDGE!!" the announcer screamed into the microphone.

The doors slid apart and, not even waiting for the planks to separate completely, Edge sprinted out onto the field. There, he let a massive grin dominate his face and threw his arms over his head as he slid to the center of the ring just to get the crowd riled up. After his little show and all the roaring it created, Edge let his arms drop and simply took in the atmosphere. It was midday, the sun was out, the air was dry, and a thin veil of clouds was drifting along above. There wasn't a trace of a breeze, the temperature was perfect, and there were no empty spaces in the stands. It was a good day for a fight.

"Looks like we could be in for a dog pile!" the announcer tried to joke, but only a handful in the audience even chuckled. "This fine evening, we'll see Edge's first fight in almost four months. Don't worry though folks, that just means he's well rested and ready to kick some flank! Which he'd better be, because his opponent today ain't no crawdad."

Edge popped his neck and shook his shoulders to loosen up. He didn't even know who his enemy was going to be. The Revival Match had the unique quality that neither contender knew who they were going to fight, or if they were even chosen for the fight, until the day of. It made the match a little more interesting if it was a surprise after all.

"He stands a full foot taller than Edge, sports muscles of unnatural size," he stressed mysteriously, "swings a homemade hammer weighing in at 211 lbs alone and he is the longest running competitor in Arena history!"

Edge's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat at that description. It couldn't be...

"I give you... NAIL!!"

Edge took an involuntary step back and lowered his head, but kept his eyes trained on the creaking gate. There, in the shadows of the Arena's underground, a legend in the flesh stood patiently waiting to emerge. Even from this distance Edge's precise eyes could make out the massive defined shoulders, the rebellious shag of hair, and the terrifying shape of a monstrous hammer. The crowd was going ballistic, but Edge could hear it even over the cheers filling the air.

Nail's first hoof fall.

The ground seemed to shake with every step, the air pulsed along with his ancient heart, and the cowardly dust fled from his mighty form. Edge didn't know what to feel. Here he was facing his role-model, a veteran of the Arena, his inspiration for fighting in the first place. But that was just it, he was going to fight this marvel of power, not watch.

Nail came to within 20 feet of Edge before halting his advance and proceeding to wait for the bell. Edge couldn't help but eye Nail's crude hammer as it rested on his right shoulder with a boney knuckle clutching the handle. The design was as simple as it was effective. The head of the hammer was a whiskey barrel that had been filled with iron and then had a piece of rebar stuck in to act as a grasp. It wasn't the prettiest weapon ever made, but in Nail's hands it could take down demons... and it had.

"You will fall," Nail said in his deep voice.

Edge growled. "You won't be able to hit me with your slow clumsy movements," he taunted back, unwilling to be pushed around even by his hero.

Nail's pupils shrunk to the size of pins, his neck muscles tensing. "Nail. Not. Ever. Loose. To mut," he spat.

The ref, who was sitting on a platform on the lip of the ring, narrowed his eyes. This was going to be a very one-sided match and he couldn't help but look to the VIP Box where Ulrich sat with a smile across his beak. "The Spirit of Vengeance" versus the "The Rising Star"? It was a fishy match-up pairing a rookie against an established champion, but it wasn't his call and the announcer was all to glad to start it.

"FIGHT!!"

Edge brought his fists up and began bouncing on his slender legs, he would have to rely on his superior speed if he was going to win. However, Nail was not interested in such theatrics and went right for the main event. He charged forward with his hammer grasped in both hands behind his head like a deadly baseball bat.

When he was in range, Nail swung his hammer horizontally with as much force as he could muster. Edge dropped to his knees, spread his arms, and lowered his head so the attack would pass right over him. Then, like a spring being released, Edge jumped to his feet and delivered a quick left uppercut into Nail's armpit, sending a spark of pain up the limb that forced him to let go of the weapon with his right arm. Unblocked now, Edge delivered a powerful right blow to Nail's fat snout. Nail's head shot backwards in response and with his hammer well behind him, barely still clutched in his left hand, he was dangerously off balance. He backpedaled several steps, desperately trying to find his footing as Edge continued to pummel him with blows.

A left hook to the ribs, a right to the shoulder, another left to the face, and a final heavy strike to the diaphragm sent Nail into a humiliating kneel. As he looked up, gasping for breath, Edge did a devastating backflip with his right leg shooting out to kick him under the chin. The angle and power of the strike sent Nail's thoughts scrambling and his body lifting up just enough for him to fall over on his back. Numerous fans cheered at such an incredible opening to a fight.

Nail snarled in anger and sat up, his eyes homing in on their prey. Edge stepped back and continued to hop on his paws to keep mobile. Nail rose to his full height and slung the hammer back over his shoulder, his rippling muscles not so much as quivering despite its great weight. He took a slow cautious step forward, then exploded across the dirt with speed Edge had never seen him achieve before. Suddenly, Nail was standing over him with a his hammer aimed straight for his head!

The hammer smashed into the ground with the power of a falling mountain behind it and Edge, having lunged to the side with as much strength as he could, slid in the dust and rolled a few times before he was able to right himself and get to his paws. When he was standing again, there was dirt in his eyes and he took a second to wipe it away, but when his focused returned to the match, he gasped.

Nail roared as he flew at Edge, mindlessly swinging his hammer horizontally again. Edge jumped back out of range, the dog grunting as he felt the rush of wind blast through his fur, a clear indication of the power Nail was capable of. He quickly turned his hammer over and swung it through the air once more in the opposite direction from before. Edge was only barely able to hop backwards in time to be missed. He could even feel the tip of the weapon brush some of his coat.

Nail roared even louder, his rage boiling over. He brought his hammer up high over his head and jumped forward as he forced it down on his enemy. Edge did a backflip just as the enormous weapon tore into the earth and sent a shock-wave racing through the ground. Edge knew he needed to get some distance between them so he could rethink his strategy. He got an opportune moment as Nail struggled to lift the tool back onto his shoulder so he could heft it into the fight again.

Once Nail had secured his weapon, he discovered that Edge had fled almost two dozen steps away and was bouncing on his paws again. He bore his teeth and began stomping forward, making sure to put emphasis on his hoof falls the whole way. Edge took this pause as a time to analyze his opponent and try to form a plan. Unfortunately, Nail didn't give him enough time and before he knew it, the minotaur was on-top of him.

Nail raised his hammer high in the air and let it drop down where his target was standing. Edge flew to the right and raced past Nail's mighty arms, lashing out with a quick blow as he past. Nail merely grunted as the jab hit him in the ribs and made him stand a little straighter. He spun on his hooves like a top, thrusting out his weapon in an attempt to whack Edge right off his feet. When he met only empty air, his eyes opened in surprise. Suddenly, a weight plopped down on his shoulders, Edge's legs wrapping around his neck and hands gripping his horns with a vice-like grip.

Nail's hammer was flung out of his hand like a sack of potatoes and wild snorts flooded from his nostrils. Edge was riding him like some kind of stage bull, yanking his head this-way and that-way. Nail bellowed and bucked his body in every direction he could to shake off the little pest. He snapped his head back and forth, he shook his shoulders, he jumped and threw himself around and around. His hooves crushed the dirt, his great weight compacting it nicely as he charged around the arena like a wild animal, slowly choking.

Edge grunted and growled with every buck, his own body being tossed every which-way painfully. This may not have been the most spectacular way to win, but it was his best chance when facing an opponent who was so much bigger and stronger. Nail had trouble reaching up over his head, so the beast couldn't throw him off if Edge could just keep a decent grip. But as Nail thrashed around, Edge couldn't help but be thrown against his spiked horns once or twice. Blood soon began to leak from his wounds.

Nail gasped for breath, his limbs going heavy, and spots started to dot his vision. He couldn't breath, his head felt like it was made of cotton, and spit was pouring from his mouth. He made one last dash forward, no idea where he was going as his vision continued to lessen. Edge's eyes went wide and he ditched his ride with a backflip.

Nail smashed head-on into the Arena's stone walls only a moment later.

Edge crouched on all four limbs in the dust as he stared in awe at the spectacle. Nail had plowed into the wall, blowing a crater into the stone and sent debris shooting across the field. The stands where the audience sat visibly trembled from the crash and many of those seated stood up in shock. Everyone sitting directly above the site leaned over the railing and peered down as Nail's limp body slumped in a pile of rubble. The announcer was rendered speechless and the ref gawked across the Arena. Ulrich, sitting happily up in his booth a moment prior, was now sitting much farther forward with a confused stare plastered to his face. There was a cute, and well-known, pink mare sitting next to him who also jumped forward in her seat, desperately wanting to know what would happened next.

Edge wasn't sure if it was over or not. The ref hadn't called it yet and Nail didn't seem to be moving. Was he dead? "Hey! You alright?" he asked, sympathy for his opponent taking over as he took a single hesitant step forward.

Nail's only response was a dark grunt, almost a growl.

Edge reeled back in shock that the minotaur was still conscious. The behemoth slowly began to move, his horned head pulling from of the destroyed wall. His large hands grasped at the ground and lifted his considerable bulk away from the hole. His whole body quaked from the strain. The crowd was as amazed as Edge as Nail pushed himself upright and turned to face his enemy yet again. His face was bloody, his mouth broken and bleeding. His horns were both snapped, one of his eyes was sealed shut, and his nose oozed crimson.

He might have been standing, but his slumping shoulders, ragged breath, and the way his legs were shaking made it clear he was not in good shape.

A massive breath sent some of the blood flying from his mouth and Nail raised a heavy arm to wipe it off. In doing so, all he achieved was painting his arm red. Edge popped his knuckles and calmed his own breathing. A trickle of blood was running down his waist, but he was much better off than Nail, whose snarling was mildly discomforting.

For a time, the two merely stood there, waiting for the other to resume the fight. Eventually, Edge decided he'd given Nail enough to time to catch his breathe and went on the offensive. He dashed for his enemy, his arms raised and ready to strike out at his opponent. Nail's slouched form popped upward as he prepared to counterattack, his arms rising just in time for the assault to be unleashed.

Edge's first jab met Nail's broad forearms as they blocked any attack from reaching his injured head. Edge merely snorted and lashed out at the wall of flesh again and again. Punch after punch harmlessly beat against Nail's arms, none of them making him budge an inch. Edge, seeing this wouldn't work, thrust a blow under the guard and struck Nail in the stomach. The sudden pain made him drop his block and Edge immediately rewarded him with a right hook to the snout.

Nail stumbled to the left, his small hooves slipping and sliding as he tried to find a foothold. Edge, not willing to give him a moment, jumped into the air and lashed out at his off-balance opponent with a powerful right kick that landed on the side of his head. The minotaur reeled over and fell to the ground, sending up a small pocket of dirt and filling the air with coughs. Edge charged him again and threw yet another right fist at the downed beasts already abused nose.

A mixture of spit and blood splattered the ground as Nail's jaw seemed to unhinge. He lay there for a moment as Edge wandered off a few steps and cradled his knuckle, now beginning to feel a stinging in his hands. Looking at them, Edge could clearly see that his bandages were ripping and his skin was running red. He grit his teeth and looked back at his opponent. Nail was using all his strength just to stand up, his face a total mess. Edge just couldn't see his hero winning at this point.

Edge finally let a smirk adorn his muzzle, this match was over. He was going to win!

He barked once and charged at Nail, who had just gotten up, and unleashed a monstrous kick to his chest. The behemoth took three whole steps back. Edge rose on one leg and lashed out with his left, the kick met Nail's diaphragm and sent him back several more steps. He wasn't even trying to block now, his massive limbs simply dangling by his sides helplessly as he was beaten down by the smaller fighter. Long time fans of Nail could only sit back and watch as Edge struck him again and again. Hit after hit, the muscular brute simply took and backpedaled until... there was nowhere left to go.

Nail was pressed up against the Arena wall, the skin on his chest tearing from the number of hits he'd taken. Edge grinned and stepped away, clenching his right fist. Then, with all the strength in his being, Edge dashed forward and struck Nail straight on in the chest, rocketing more crimson from the minotaur's mouth. Edge held his fist there as Nail gasped in agony, his chest seeming to collapse in on itself. But then the impossible happened.

Nail's massive arms clamped onto Edge's, one hand on either elbow. The world froze, Edge's eyes filled with terror, Nail's with madness. Those who were close enough to see it knew that Nail had just won the fight. Ulrich, even hundreds of feet away, realized it.

Nothing in all this world is more terrifying than watching your own arm bend 90 degrees in the wrong direction. Nothing in all the world can make your heart stop as quickly as watching one of your limbs broken so easily. Nothing in all the world could have made Edge howl any louder.

Everything moved so fast, Edge didn't know how to keep up. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground screaming out and desperately trying to clutch his destroyed arms. He was wracked with so much torturous pain, he couldn't think, he couldn't move, he couldn't win.

The weight of the entire world suddenly slammed into his chest, his mouth shooting spit into orbit from the impact. His eyes bulged and he could just make-out Nail standing over him, murder the only thing on his mind. Then, the weight rose off him just as Nail lifted his leg, only for it to slam into him again. His ribs cried out for release, for somewhere to go. His organs compressed in his chest, his heart now had no room to beat. His lungs squished under the pressure, needing more room to inflate. And just like that, the weight lifted again.

Sweet air filled his lungs, oxygen flowed into him again. But the hoof fell once more and the cracking of bones rang out. Edge felt his body press into the ground, his insides being reduced to jelly. Blood gushed from his mouth like a geyser the sky turned black as oil. He couldn't move, nerves throughout his form were going berserk, sending a never ending torrent of pain signals to his brain. The light dimmed with each stomp, the will to continue crushed out of him, an endlessly cycle like a living hell.

What felt like an eternity later, two griffins in white robes grabbed Nail's shoulders and pulled him back. A snow white unicorn appeared above like an angel, a bright light encircling his head. Edge could feel his life leaving him, this must have been an angel sent by the gods to collect his soul. They must have been pleased with him, how close he'd come to winning. He had done his duty, he had fought to the end. Edge was ready to be taken away on golden wings to a place of eternal happiness. He hurt so much, he just wanted it to end.

"He's losing too much blood, get me a pump! His lungs are flooding!" a voice echoed in his ears. Angels don't need pumps, do they?

"He's in shock, where's that needle?" another voice reverberated. Since when did angels use needles for anything?

"Don't you dare close those eyes you mut!" a familiar gruff voice warned him.

All at once, the doberman burst forward in an attempt to sit upright. Immediately, a team of doctors held him down, desperately trying to keep him from moving. Edge's eyes jumped from one face to another, taking in one critical fact: these were doctors. His eyes continued scanning until they spotted Nail with his hammer slung over his shoulder marching out of the Arena. He knew right then. He knew without having heard the call that he had lost.

The doctors proceeded with their work. The unicorn noticed a lone tear snake its way out from under Edge's quivering eyes and watched it drip down his cheek to the dry dirt of the Arena floor where it was absorbed in a blink.

"I was defeated... in every way..."