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Summers rubs his jaw still seated in the corner before he pulls himself up. Fusion was showing some early grit, much to the dismay of the Marauder CEO who was hoping for a cake walk to the next round. Summers decided he needed to play to his strengths in the match, and that was to utilize some BS MMA.

The holder of the the physical Crimson King Championship walks towards Fusion looking to offer a lock up, but if Avari work to try and accept, Summers would actually get into a deeper clinch. Quadruple J style, really trying to drag the hot prospect into deep waters without exerting too much.

Avari had nothing to worry about as Summers didn't have any moves or go to's out of the clinch and released the grip as the younger Fusion asked him to take it easy.

He's gonna think I did that for him. I'll look so soft. I gotta do something.

Summers throws a standard backfist, not trying to get dizzy this early in the match. The Shooto Pro aimed this strike for the chin, but his set up and stance were very easy to telegraph due to Summers's truthfully novice approach to MMA's finer points.

"GUFFFFAWWW!!!"

Summers is kicked in the stomach and doubles over letting pit the exasperated escape of air heard in the arena. The twinges in his gut were evident on veteran's face. Known for a classic spot in the Marauders' first WWFG Tag Team Championship match, if the inexperienced Fusion had hit him two inches lower in the jejunum Summers would have been liable to release his guts on the canvas. The CEO raises his head while remaining hunched over with one hand wrapped around his midsection and the other on his knee to keep Summers slightly upright.

Summers got his breather and raised upright while Avari gained favor with the audience. It was time to take advantage of the rookie. Once again hunting the novice, Summers would briskly get over behind Avari and try to wrap him around the waist. "You got the psychology.." Summers would then look to arch his back to deliver a Pancrase German Suplex on the Fusion.

"BACKWARDS!"

Summers rolls to his feet and flexes his new chemically enhanced muscles he gained from his absence as the crowd lets out a chorus of boos. They were getting hot from the big impact so Summers knew to slow the pace down some more from the already few moves done. The CEO would look to sit Avari up in and plant him in a firm headlock.

"Alright now listen hear ya little s**t. I'm the one that calls the spots, you're working with me, not vice versa."

As Summers let off his mouth barely moving, muffled diatribe to Fusion, he'd add a few little jerks to stiffen up and the hold a little tougher for the rookie.

"Alright kid, here's what we do.. We're gonna get Boricuas nice and riled up here." Summers was plotting a heat spot to send the crowd to a riot. "Start fighting your way up like you're gonna break away. Some bow to gut action. I'll get them from there." Summers grumbled under his breathe, as he slightly loosened his grip on the hold. The CEO was in control here, but for some reason was trying to bark orders at the heir to the Fusion name to make moves. Were these mind games for the rookie or was this just a crafty veteran trying to steal the show?

Summers slowly was forced up as Avari scrapped his way out of the well timed rest hold. The shots were nailing him right in the roid belly between ribs, his show abs offering little support. Eventually Summers was forced to release his grip, but almost immediately attempts to reach up to Fusion's hair and pull him back down to the mat yelling, "This is heeeeat!"

The crowd was edged by the young star's comeback attempt. They were known to love their second generation stars, the Colons, Miguel Perez Jr., and now Avari Fusion. Summers's knowledge of Puerto Rican wrestling history was coming to play as he wanted a frenzy before he left for the next round of King of the Canvas.