Mean Mike just finished battling Veins ass to sign a contract to wrestle, but these two newcomers are not yet finished with each other. They have just warmed up. Now that theyre well acquainted with each others body and moves, they can, as the saying goes, hit the road running. Vein is up for it, pushing Mean Mike by ordering him to clean up the mat. Hes asking for trouble, and he damn well knows it. He cant get enough. Mike cant believe his ears. The balls on this muscle jobber! To think he can push Mean Mike around? In seconds, the two brutes are locked into each other, collar and elbow, in an impromptu three-out-of-five-falls contest to decide who will have to push the mop.The action is quick at first, while the wrestlers are relatively fresh. Later, as they wear each other out, they slow down, of course, but they never stop--and they never lose their intensity. Neither guy needs any encouragement to lay into his opponent. They huff, they puff. It looks like an even match, with Mike and Vein taking turns being on top of the other guy. There are head scissors, chokes, punches. Five minutes in, and we see that Mean Mike lives up to every letter of his moniker. He takes a grim satisfaction in mopping up the mat with Veins butt. Twisting the tattooed body-beautiful into square knots, bow lines, sheet bends, clove hitches, two half hitches, and taut-line hitches--Mean Mike is shooting for his Boy Scout merit badge in roughhouse. Give it up, bitch, he commands his adversary, and Vein reluctantly submits.Next the battlers trade bear hugs. First up is Vein, whose triple-tread arms look like they could crush metal. Mean Mike thrashes and moans like hes caught in a trap, and he pretty much is, until, through pure dogged determination, he reverses the hold. Now Mike crushes Vein and whips him back and forth like a rag doll, his wrists gouging his victims spine. But when Vein repositions himself to clamp a head scissors on Mike, Mike feels the full force of the muscle gods mega-weight thighs. The pressure of these wheels against Mikes temples knocks the guy out. Mean Mike aint so mean anymore! Vein crows in triumph, as Mike kicks himself for losing. Even after such an ignominious loss, Mike takes it upon himself to lecture his opponent on the undependable nature of muscle, especially when you have plenty of show muscle, but dont know what to do with it on a wrestling mat. Stepping right into the trap, Vein strikes an arrogant double biceps pose, inadvertently slipping right into Mikes full nelson. Mean Mikes assault is punitive and savage. He wants to BREAK this man. He pushes Vein down to the mat and pins him, wrists pressed to the battleship-gray vinyl. Cmon, princess! he taunts the jobber. Then Mike stretches Vein out over his knee, piggybacking humiliation on top of pain by clutching and wringing the big guys nuts. Its the old five-finger mankiller. Mike follows up with a chin lock and body scissors combo. Vein almost powers out, emphasis on almost. Vein grumbles about Mikes resorting to a cheap shot to win. Mean Mike ignores the complaint: winning is winning, as far as he is concerned. Mike sets out to discover how much grunt and wriggle Vein has in him, pretzeling him and then stretching him out like taffy. From start to finish, this absolutely no-holds-barred fight is packed with heaving, gasping, grunting agony that, just watching it, you can feel in the bones. After Vein taps a second time, Mean Mike asks him, Want some more? Nobodys surprised when Vein replies, I always want more. Not even a fifth and decisive fall stops these guys from brawling. Theres bad blood here, and theyre both working it for all its worth. Im not done with you yet, bitch! says the victor to his humbled conquest. And the shows not over till the winner snags the loser in a rear naked choke that both cleans the dudes clock and sets him spinning off to dreamland.