mat, when Lance nonchalantly walks right over him, steps on him, smacking the Greek muscle god down on his face. Adding to the indignity and patent discourtesy, Lance totally ignores Cratos protests. Lances silent treatment infuriates Cratos even more than the initial insult, especially when Romance cavalierly pushes him back without uttering a syllable. You keep this up and youre gonna be sorry, Cratos vows, swear, bro, I swear. A reverse bearhug at last catches Lances attention. The arrogant bad boy tries to power out, but Cratos has him locked up fast for a minute and a half. Both these guys are competition-quality bodybuilders, with biceps only slightly smaller than their egos. Cratos traps Romance even longer in a headscissors that pops every muscle and vein in the two he-mens rock-solid bodies, physiques tailor made to execute and withstand the slams, clutches, and armbars that follow. Lance gets just what he was asking for, and Cratos takes a grim satisfaction in cutting Mr. Romance down to size. But the shows not over yet. We get a generously long posedown, capped with a gut-punching challenge that only reignites the heat between these two.
