SJL Wrath, April 6th, 2003!

[Guest realitycheck]

No witty subtitle, no witty "national anthem"... gosh, I'm creative tonight.

 

Card:

 

SINGLES MATCH

Omega Storm vs. Syndicate

Rules: Is Storm still here? We're not sure, but this sounds like a good warmup match for our newest SJL competitor, Syndicate. Standard singles rules.

 

SJL TELEVISION TITLE MATCH

TRIPLE THREAT

Quiet Death © vs. John Duran vs. "Dark Rebel" Terry Wayne

Rules: We had a whole lot of no shows on Metal. I hope that ends here. Standard triple threat rules with the first pinfall winning the title. If no one writes, the title goes vacant.

 

SJL EUROPEAN TITLE MATCH

Tryst © vs. Christian Blackwell

Rules: Tryst fell short in a shot at World title contendership, won by Sean Atlas. Now he must defend his European title against a winner from Metal (against Aaron Carpenter), Christian Blackwell. Standard singles rules apply.

 

MAIN EVENT

Sean Atlas vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

Guest Commentary: Dace Night

Rules: Atlas faces Dace Night for the SJL World Championship, but since Dace just defended the title on Metal, he's getting a show off. Nobody said we at the JLCC were unkind. Anyway, Atlas warms up tonight against Spike, and Dace will be right there to watch his nemesis in action. Standard singles rules. Dace doesn't have to write a match.

[Guest realitycheck]

Axis: “Welcome everyone to the latest edition of SJL Wrath! We’ve got a great show of action lined up for you tonight, in particular our big main event of Sean Atlas taking on “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins. They’ve faced off in the past, but with Atlas set to take on Dace Night for the World Title on Crimson this will be a very important match for both men. Sean Atlas will be eager to continue his momentum heading into the biggest match of his career, while a Jenkins win over the #1 Contender would surely put him in position for a title shot himself.”

 

King: “Unfortunately we have to wait a week to see Sean Atlas defeat Dace and his silly Horrorcore garbage and bring the belt back where it belongs, so I guess we’ll have to settle for Atlas and Jenkins tearing the house down like only they can.”

 

Axis: “But before that we have our first match of the evening, former Television Champion The Omega Storm taking on the debuting Syndicate.”

 

King: “Syndicate may have been able to defeat Matthew Kivell in a dark match on Metal, but lets see how he handles stepping into the big leagues, and he hasn’t picked an easy opponent to start off with, Omega Storm is one of the top up and comers in the JL today.”

 

Axis: “Storm hasn’t been in the best of form over the last few shows, but you’d think he’s only a in or two away from recapturing the form he had as Television Champion, and a win here may be just the thing to boost Storm back up the card.”

 

King: “Well enough yammering, lets get these boys out here, it’s not nice to keep the Commissioner of the SWF waiting.”

 

Right on cue the arena lights die out for a few moments, then relight in a fast strobe, going from neon green, to light blue, to white at random, boos immediately starting up as the crowd recognises the entrance as that of Omega Storm’s. The house speakers rumble with thunder for a moment, then a loud thunderclap is heard, accompanied with a bright flash of pyro from the entranceway. “One Of A Kind” by Breaking Point kicks up and the boos only multiply in volume as Leandro Grines slowly makes his way down the ramp.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is set for one fall. Making his way to the ring first, weighing 245 pounds from New Haven, Connecticut, THE OMEGA STORM!!!”

 

Storm shouts and gestures back at the crowd as he heads to the ring, only serving to rile them up more as he slides into the ring, stalking around for a moment before focusing on the entrance, awaiting his next victim to arrive.

 

King: “Storm looks as ready as always, Syndicate has a tough night ahead of him.”

 

Axis: “Well Omega Storm is here, now all we need is for Syndicate to make his entrance and the first match of Wrath can get underway.”

 

Storm waits for his opponent with a supremely serious attitude, and he isn’t kept waiting for long as several blasts of red pyro fire up from across the stage, “Raise Up” by Saliva starting up as Syndicate steps through the smoke and sparks. Greeted by a warm welcome from the New York crowd Syndicate makes his way to the ring, Funyon beginning the introductions.

 

Funyon: “And now making his way to the ring, weighing 237 pounds from Portland, Oregon, in his SJL debut, SYNDICATE!!!”

 

As Funyon finishes his intro Syndicate slides into the ring, immediately focusing his attention on Omega Storm, both men circling each other for a moment as the referee signals for the bell to start the match.

 

DING DING DING!

 

As the bell rings both men dart forward, locking up with a collar-and-elbow tieup. Both men struggle back and forth for position, but it’s Storm that takes the initiative, utilising his weight and strength advantage to force Syndicate back, pushing him back towards the corner. But just before Syndicate bumps into the turnbuckles he turns Storm around and shoves him into the corner instead, breaking free of the hold and lashing him across the chest with a knife-edge chop! Sydnicate follows it up with another to the ‘WHOO!’s of the crowd, Omega Storm’s chest tingling with pain, but he doesn’t have time to focus on that, Syndicate looking to continue his early momentum, taking Storm by the arm and whipping him across the ring, sending him to the opposite turnbuckles. Storm smacks into the padded corner with a thud, just as Syndicate charges in after looking to crush Storm in the corner. Storm is ready though, and manages to get his feet up in time, Syndicate’s face greeted the bottom of Storm’s boots in a less than pleasant manner, Syndicate stumbling back holding his face. Storm bolts out of the corner with a smirk, thinking he’s got the best of the rookie, but as he goes to clothesline Syndicate’s head off Syndicate ducks in the nick of time, reaching up and catching Omega Storm around the neck, pulling him down to the mat with a neckbreaker, Syndicate quickly rolling on top of his opponent for an early cover!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

T… No, Storm kicks out with little difficulty.

 

Axis: “A good start for Syndicate, Omega Storm may have underestimated the newcomer there, he can’t afford to do that or he could very easily find himself on the losing end of this contest.”

 

Both men get up quickly, but it’s Syndicate up first, catching Storm with a boot to the stomach, doubling him over. From there Syndicate doesn’t let up, taking Storm by the head and driving the point of his elbow into the back of Omega Storm’s neck, firing away with a barrage of quick elbow and forearm shots, each stiff blow sending pain shooting up Storm’s spine, Storm dropping to his knees from the onslaught. Syndicate isn’t finished though, quickly scooping Storm up and holding him upside down, before dropping down and driving Omega Storm shoulder first onto his knee in a shoulderbreaker, Storm flopping to the mat as Syndicate covers him, the referee circling into position.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

TH… No, Storm gets his shoulder up in time.

 

King: “Well, I guess this Syndicate fellow has some talent after all. Omega Storm isn’t one to be dominated for long though, once Storm gets back in control Syndicate will get an introduction to just what life in the JL is like, and Storm can give out punishment with the best of them.”

 

Axis: “We’ll see, but Syndicate has certainly started strong, he’s obviously keen to make an immediate impact in the SJL.”

 

Following the kickout Syndicate brings Storm up in a headlock, pushing off the ring ropes to send Storm across the ring. As Omega Storm rebounds Syndicate jumps up for a dropkick, but Syndicate makes a rookie mistake of telegraphing the move, Storm holding onto the ropes and allowing Syndicate to crash to the mat in a heap, to the boos of the crowd.

 

King: “Syndicate makes the mistake, now Omega Storm takes the rookie to school.”

 

Syndicate stumbles back up as Storm sets himself, and as Syndicate turns to face him Storm runs forward, hitting Syndicate across the chest for a clothesline but holding on, jumping forward and slamming Syndicate back first to the mat with an inverted bulldog, the back of Syndicate’s head hitting the mat hard. Storm bounces back up to his feet almost immediately, and as Syndicate sits up Omega Storm pounces, coming up behind his opponent and going for a La Magistral Cradle, pinning Syndicate’s shoulders to the mat!

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THRE… No! Syndicate barely gets his shoulders up in time, barely avoiding an early loss.

 

Axis: “The La Magistral almost paying big dividends for Omega Storm, a very near fall there. But despite the kickout Storm is on top now, and I’d expect he’s going to take his frustrations out on Syndicate.”

 

The crowd are as always jeering Storm as he stands back up, but he ignores the insults of the fans, reaching down and pulling Syndicate up by the arm, quickly applying an arm wringer and wrenching away on the shoulder of Syndicate. Storm looks to continue the offence, going to whip Syndicate across the ring, but this time Syndicate holds on, whipping Omega Storm across the ring instead, and as Storm comes back Syndicate sets himself, pressing Storm up in the air looking for the Broken Arrow! But just as Syndicate looks to complete the samoan drop portion of the move Omega Storm manages to slip off behind Syndicate, landing safely on his feet! Omega Storm shoves Syndicate into the ropes from behind, and on the rebound stops Syndicate in his tracks with a kick to the midsection, before hooking him and lifting up in the air, keeping him suspended for a moment before forcefully slamming Syndicate down to the mat with a Jackhammer, the crowd booing as Omega Storm stays on top of Syndicate for the cover hooking the far leg for extra leverage.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THR… No, Syndicate twists his body and gets his left shoulder up in the nick of time.

 

King: “There we go, Omega Storm planting Syndicate with a big Jackhammer. Another big move or two and this could be over, Syndicate better come up with something quick if he’s to have a chance against Storm here.”

 

Storm gives a quick glance at he referee, not pleased that the Jackhammer didn’t score the pin, before refocusing on his opponent, pulling him up into a front facelock. From there Omega Storm reaches over and pulls Syndicate’s arm up into a hammerlock, and he uses the hold to suplex Syndicate up and over, tossing Syndicate overhead with a headlock/hammerlock suplex, drawing further boos from the New York fans as Syndicate writhes on the mat in pain, Omega Storm again dropping down on top of his opponent for a pin attempt.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

THRE… No! Despite the punishment he’s taken Syndicate has enough left in the tank to get his shoulders up, drawing a cheer from the crowd, hoping for a Syndicate comeback.

 

Axis: “A big suplex from Omega Storm, the former Television champion is starting to take the match over now, unless Syndicate can find a way to fight back this may be academic for Omega Storm.”

 

Omega Storm gets up once more, bringing a weakened Syndicate up with him. Standing Syndicate up Storm stands in front of him, before reaching back and putting his hands under Syndicate’s arms, lifting him up into a reverse crucifix. Right away the crowd goes up in boos, recognising the maneuver as the Omega Cloudburst!

 

King: “It’s time to wrap this one up, Omega Storm about to give Syndicate a first class ticket on the job train, Storm has finished plenty of people with the Omega Cloudburst, and it looks like Syndicate’s going to be the latest to be added to that list.”

 

Omega Storm is about to drop down into the Diamond Cutter, but just before he can Syndicate gets a surge of energy from somewhere, managing to slip out of Omega Storm’s grasp and land on his feet beside him. Before Storm can react Syndicate latches onto him, setting him in position for a Russian leg sweep, but instead of falling back Syndicate vaults forward, driving Omega Storm face first into the canvas with a Reverse Russian Leg Sweep! A big cheer goes up as Syndicate slams Storm to the mat, Syndicate rolling on top of his opponent for a cover!

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THREE... NO! Storm kicks out milliseconds before the referee’s hand greets the canvas a third time, to the displeasure of both the crowd and Syndicate.

 

Axis: “A big reversal from Syndicate, escaping the Omega Cloudburst and nailing Storm with a reverse Russian leg sweep! Syndicate’s caused the mistake from Omega Storm, can he take advantage!?”

 

Knowing this is his chance Syndicate ignores the pain he’s in, getting to his feet as he pulls Omega Storm up with him. With the crowd cheering him on Syndicate takes hold of Storm and scoops him up, holding him upside down in a tombstone piledriver position, though with Storm’s head level with Syndicate’s upper legs instead of his knees. Syndicate holds Omega Storm in position for a second, before quickly sitting out, spiking Storm’s head into the canvas with a sitout Tombstone Piledriver, the Vertigo! A big cheer goes up as Storm’s cranium greets the canvas, Syndicate wasting no time in rolling Storm onto his back and going for the cover, the fans counting along with the pin!

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

DING DING DING!

 

Funyon: “The winner of this match by pinfall, SYNDICATE!!!”

 

Axis: “Syndicate pulls out the victory! A good win on debut for the rookie, hopefully the start of a promising career in the SJL for Syndicate.”

 

King: “Bah, I don’t like it. To beat someone the likes of Omega Storm he must have cheated, Storm’s too good to lose to some rookie jobber.”

 

Axis: “He didn’t cheat King, it was a fair win. But moving on from this we have a Triple Threat Match for the Television Title, pitting champion Quiet Death up against both John Duran and Terry Wayne, and it’s coming up right after this commercial break.”

[Guest realitycheck]

Axis: "King, this next match is something that seems very familiar."

 

King: "That's right. A little more than two weeks ago, John Duran and Terry Wayne were involved in a triangle match for the SJL Television Title with then champion The Omega Storm. Terry Wayne ended up the victor and new Television Champion in that bout, but Wayne quickly dropped the title to current champion Quiet Death. And now, we have returned back to the triangle match. This time, Duran and Wayne will be facing Quiet Death for the Television Title."

 

Axis: "So, can Quiet Death hold on to the title, is Terry Wayne destined for a second reign as TV champion, or will it finally be John Duran's time to shine? There's only one way to find out. Let's go to the ring for the introductions!"

 

Funyon: "This next match is a triangle match scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SJL Television Title!"

 

The crowd cheers in anticipation, and Johnny Cash's "Hurt" strikes up immediately, the crowd giving "The Dark Rebel" Terry Wayne a mixture of boos and cheers as he makes his entrance. Terry begins his slow, silent walk down the aisle, some fans reaching out to get a high-five from him. Terry just walks past them, very intent in his focus, the black and white video of a snake eating a rabbit looping in its play behind Terry.

 

Funyon: "Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds, from Norfolk, Virginia, he is "The Dark Rebel" TERRY WAYYYYYYYYYYYNE!"

 

Terry enters the ring, keeping his eyes on the entrance to observe his opponents. Drowning Pool's "Sinner" blares over the speakers next, the crowd exploding in a chorus of boos as John Duran enters Madison Square Garden. The camera zooms in on a sign that says "Duran Sucks." John apparently notices this sign as well, showing the fan that John thinks the fan is #1 in his book, before continuing his walk down to the ring.

 

Funyon: "His opponent, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds, from Champaign, Illinois, JOHN DURANNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

 

Duran walks around the ring, hesitating to enter the ring with Terry, a man he certainly knows well having been in a few battles with him. A fan throws beer on Duran, splattering on John's right arm. The crowd begins to laugh at Duran, but Duran walks right up to the fan and threatens to slap him silly, making the fan back down. John laughs at the fan before finally entering the ring, opposite Wayne of course, keeping his distance from Terry until absolutely necessary.

 

Smoke begins to puff out of from the sides of the entryway, some of the crowd beginning to cheer already, knowing that Quiet Death is about to make his entrance. The lights change from black to dark blue, and two lightning bolts hit the bottom of the Tron, making some people in the audience go "Ooooh." The smoke completely smothers the entranceway, no cameraman able to get a clear shot of anything coming out of the entranceway. The word "Death" appears on the SmarkTron, and then dissolves into "Quiet Death." A beat bumps out of the amps, people's cheers growing in volume as the smoke begins to dissolve.

 

Funyon: "And their opponent, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-one pounds, from Parts Unknown, he is the SJL Television Champion, QUIET DEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATH!"

 

"Thou shall not fall..."

 

"Thou shall not fly..."

 

"Thou shall not fear..."

 

"Thou shall not live..."

 

The chorus of "Thou Shall Not Cry" by Bauhaus plays over the speakers as Quiet Death appears at the entranceway once the smoke clears, then slowly making his way down to the ring. The lights slowly begin to turn back to the way they were as Quiet Death enters the ring, going towards one of the empty corners and crouching down, waiting for the bell to ring.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

As soon as the bell rings, almost like a conditioned response, Terry Wayne and John Duran meet eyes and then move towards the center of the ring, Quiet Death keeping silent and to himself.

 

Axis: "Looks like the two familiar enemies will be going after each other to begin this match..."

 

John and Terry lock horns in the middle of the ring. John gets the advantage in the lock up and whips Terry into the corner. John charges after Terry, but Terry dodges and John is barely able to keep himself from running shoulder-first into the ringpost. John turns around, and Terry kicks Duran in the gut and takes him down with a swinging neckbreaker. Terry quickly goes for the cover, Quiet Death waking up suddenly as Anthony Michael Hall swings around for the pinfall.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

THR-NO! HE DIDN'T GET HIM!

 

Quiet Death runs over and stomps Terry in the head, breaking that pinfall. Realizing that this is now the time, Quiet Death goes on the offensive, bringing Terry to his feet and whipping him into the ropes. Terry ducks a spinning heel kick, and as Terry comes back, John gets to his feet and charges, taking Terry down with a clothesline. John turns around to focus on Quiet Death, but Quiet thinks quickly on his feet, kicking John in the midsection, and then--as John is getting back to an upright position--hitting John with a dropkick that sends Duran down to the mat. Quiet brings John to his feet, slowly, grabbing John's arm and wrenching it over his head, before reaching back and hitting John with a sidekick, Quiet's boot planting itself firmly under the chin of John, sending Duran right back down to the mat. Quiet goes over to pick up Terry Wayne, but Terry strikes Quiet in the throat, sending Quiet down to both knees. Terry bounces off the ropes while Quiet is down on both knees and leaps over Quiet's body, grabbing his head and snapping it down on his shoulder, sending Quiet whiplashing back to the mat.

 

Axis: "An action-packed match already, King!"

 

King: "That's right. We've already seen, in this match, the quickness of Quiet Death at work, as well as the brute power of John Duran and the calculating maneuvers of Terry Wayne."

 

Terry scrambles over Quiet, hooking the leg as Hall swings around to count the pinfall.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

THR--HE GOT HIM! NO, NO HE DIDN'T!

 

Duran comes over and drops a leg on the back of Terry's head, breaking one of Terry's pinfalls once again. Terry gets up to confront Duran, but Duran takes a couple of steps back, ready. Terry turns around to go after Duran, but John charges Terry, driving his shoulder into the gut of Terry and grabbing "The Dark Rebel"'s legs, driving him into the turnbuckle with brute force.

 

Axis: "That isn't the first time that Terry Wayne has felt the force of that move."

 

King: "And it won't be the last, either!"

 

Duran goes to work on Terry with hard shots to the body, but Quiet comes up behind John and grabs his arm as he swings it backwards, spinning Duran around and then throwing him into the opposite turnbuckle. John hits the turnbuckle hard, and then stumbles back towards the center of the ring. Quiet runs up to John, waiting for the right moment and then striking, jumping up and nailing John with a kick to the right side of his head, sending John down HARD.

 

Axis: "Whiplash Death! Impressive move!"

 

Quiet quickly goes for the cover on the damn-near knocked out Duran, Hall swinging around once again for the cover.

 

ONE...

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

THR-Wayne goes to elbowdrop Quiet, but Quiet senses Wayne coming and rolls out of the way, Terry elbowdropping Duran, despite having broken the pin. Terry isn't sure what's going on, and doesn't immediately try and go for the pinfall, but when he finally goes for it, Quiet has other thoughts, kicking Terry in the head, the crowd cheering and letting out moans of surprise as Terry's head smacks off the boot of Quiet Death.

 

Axis: "Despite the lethal kicks that Quiet Death has been dealing out so far in this match, I can't really declare that there is a really sure winner so far!"

 

King: "Terry Wayne really paid for breaking up that pinfall, though."

 

Quiet grabs Duran by his jet black hair and tries to bring John to his feet, but John resists for a moment, and then hits Quiet with a low blow. Hall was apparently dozing off or something to that effect, as he doesn't see it at all. The crowd boos and some start chanting "Bulls---" as John takes advantage of his situation. Quiet is bent over, so John wraps his arms around the waist of Quiet, putting him in a front waistlock and then lifting Quiet over his head and bringing him back down, Quiet bouncing off the mat after a waistlock suplex from Duran. Duran gets to his feet and showboats for the crowd a little bit--much to the crowd's chagrin--before John goes back to work on Quiet Death. John brings Quiet to his feet, and then bends down slightly, lifting Quiet up, putting Quiet over his head, once again showboating, the crowd booing as John drops Quiet down behind him, sending Quiet face-first into the mat.

 

Axis: "The power of Duran is truly amazing, wouldn't you say so, King?"

 

King: "I would. He could probably get himself out of a locked toolshed if he really wanted to!"

 

John taunts the crowd some more, giving some of them the finger, as Terry slowly gets to his feet. He sees the advantage at hand, coming up behind John and turning him around, kicking him in the gut, putting John in a front facelock and then driving him down to the mat with a DDT. Terry then signals towards the top rope as the crowd cheers. Terry climbs to the second rope, sizing up the distance and then flying off the second turnbuckle, crashing his knee down on John, the crowd cheering. Terry is a little dazed by the move himself, but gets over to cover John, Anthony Michael Hall swinging around for the cover once again.

 

Axis: "We're going to have a new champion tonight!"

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

TWO....

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

QUIET DEATH BREAKS IT UP!

 

The crowd is in disbelief, as Quiet Death somehow breaks it up, clubbing Terry in the back and breaking the pinfall. Quiet is beginning to get frustrated, and immediately goes over to Terry, getting him up on his feet. Quiet kicks Terry in the gut and then runs over to the ropes, springboarding off the second rope and spinning around just as Terry gets upright, kicking Terry right in the head with his right foot.

 

Axis: "OUCH! Quiet has been relying on those feet of his for all match, it seems, and it has been working out just fine, if I may say so myself."

 

Quiet goes to cover Terry, but Duran is back to his feet and--out of nowhere--somehow manages to lock Quiet in a Full Nelson. Quiet is caught by surprise and doesn't react quick enough, John bringing Quiet up and back down hard with a Full Nelson bomb. The crowd boos as John leans back and locks on the body scissors.

 

King: "YES! BREAK POINT! THAT'S ALL, FOLKS!"

 

Quiet immediately winces in pain from the body scissors being locked on, held in a very compromised position.

 

Axis: "King, Quiet is in a tough situation for one simple reason."

 

King: "Quiet can't use his legs very effectively locked in the move that he's in right now. Good strategy from Mr. Duran."

 

The crowd is divided. Half of them are cheering for Quiet Death to somehow find a way out of this move, while the other half are cheering for Terry to get up and break the Break Point, effectively saving the match.

 

Terry is stumbling to his feet, the crowd trying to get behind him and Quiet Death. John locks the body scissors on nice and tightly, as Hall leans in asking if Quiet gives. Just when it seems that Quiet is going to give, Terry comes out of nowhere, kicking Duran in the side. Duran immediately goes to his side, breaking the Break Point. The crowd erupts in cheers, Duran holding his left side after that vicious kick from Wayne. Quiet is in pain, as Terry brings Duran to his feet. Terry puts John in a standing headscissors, the crowd going nuts as they realize what's next...

 

Axis: "He's going for the finish right here! The Fatal Flaw!"

 

Terry brings Duran up perpendicular to the ground, John wriggling his legs to try and get out of it, but Terry quickly drops to his knees, Duran's neck bouncing off the mat. The crowd erupts in "Ooh"s and "Ahh"s, as Terry hits the Fatal Flaw on Duran.

 

Axis: "We're going to have a new TV champion tonight, King!"

 

Terry goes to cover John, but then notices Quiet getting to his feet.

 

Axis: "...What is he doing?"

 

Terry decides not to cover John, but instead goes over to Quiet.

 

King: "He wants to dispatch Quiet Death before he goes to cover Duran!"

 

Axis: "This could be a crucial mistake!"

 

Wayne goes over to Quiet Death, locking up with him and throwing him into the ropes. Terry charges to clothesline him over the top rope, but Quiet ducks the clothesline. Terry turns around to go after him again, but Quiet kicks Terry in his gut, Quiet's boot driving deep into Terry's gut. Quiet grabs Terry by the throat and then, using his left foot, sweeps Terry's legs out from under him. The crowd collectively "Ooh"ing as Terry hits the ground hard.

 

Axis: "Death To Opponent!"

 

King: "DTO, baby! Terry's an idiot for not covering Duran!"

 

John has some major cobwebs to shake out of his head, and is having trouble getting to his feet as Quiet brings Terry to his feet.

 

Axis: "Quiet Death is most definitely in control of this match-up!"

 

King: "Well DUH."

 

Quiet strikes the back of Terry's thigh, sending him down to his knees, grimacing in pain. Quiet takes a few steps back and clenches his fist, the crowd knowing what comes next. Quiet steps forward...

 

CRACK!

 

The crowd lets out a chorus of "Ooh"s as Quiet's foot connects with Terry's skull, sending Terry down to the mat, the crowd then switching to enthusiastic cheers.

 

Axis: "QUIET THUNDER! That's it!"

 

Quiet goes over to flip Terry over and cover him, but John comes out of nowhere, taking Quiet's head off with a clothesline.

 

King: "That certainly wasn't quiet! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

 

John doesn't waste time with a pinfall just yet, instead, John picks Quiet up and sends him over the top rope, crashing to the mat in the ringside area. Duran then quickly leaves the ring, Wayne beginning to move, but only to hold his head in pain. John waits for Quiet to get up, noticing that referee Anthony Michael Hall is checking on Terry Wayne to see if he is alright. John takes advantage of this, and as Quiet gets to his feet, dazed, his back to Duran, John goes to one knee and hits Quiet with a low blow. The crowd immediately begins to boo, Anthony Michael Hall never seeing a thing. Quiet crouches over, but John quickly hooks his arm under the body of Quiet and lifts Quiet up onto his right shoulder. Quiet tries to fight it, but John places his other hand on the back of Quiet, getting some leverage as John slightly lifts Quiet up and then brings him right back down, Quiet's head smacking off the under-protected ringside area with a loud THUD, the crowd giving a mixture of "Ooh"s and boos to John.

 

King: "RISE AND FALL ON THE OUTSIDE! Whattamove!"

 

John gets to his feet and flips off the crowd as they boo him, and then goes back in the ring. John taunts Terry, waiting for him to get up, the crowd continuing to boo John, not liking the way this match is heading. Terry is up, but dazed, his back to John, which is a mistake as John locks Terry's arms above his head.

 

Axis: "NO! This can't be happening! Not this way!"

 

John tries to lift Terry up in the air, but Terry blocks it, landing back on his feet and then swinging his leg back, hitting John with a mule kick right in the crotch. The crowd cheers as John lets the Full Nelson go immediately, Terry moving his body around and putting John in a standing headscissors.

 

Axis: "He wasn't dazed at all, he was playing possum!"

 

King: "And he's going for the Fatal Flaw, AGAIN! Come on, John, you can get out of this!"

 

Terry wraps his arms around John's waist and tries to lift him up vertical, but Duran is the one who gets the reversal this time, throwing Terry over his shoulders with a back body drop. The crowd is booing their heads off, as Duran quickly brings Terry back to his feet and goes behind Terry, locking him in a Full Nelson once again.

 

Axis: "Can Terry get out of it this time?"

 

John lifts Terry up, getting no resistance from "The Dark Rebel" and brings him right back down with a Full Nelson bomb, keeping the Full Nelson locked on as John leans back and locks Terry in a body scissors.

 

King: "YES! THERE'S GONNA BE A NEW CHAMPION!"

 

John locks Terry in the Break Point, Quiet Death still out on the outside of the ring. The crowd gets behind Terry, begging for him to find a way out of it. John locks it on tighter, and Anthony Michael Hall moves in, asking Terry if he gives. Terry shakes his head no, and John puts the move on as hard as he possibly can, seemingly crushing Terry with the force of the move.

 

Axis: "Terry is hanging on for dear life!"

 

King: "He can't take much more, though!"

 

Quiet Death is getting to his feet, shaking the cobwebs out of his bald head as Hall once again asks Terry if he gives. Terry doesn't give a response for a long moment, and then finally shakes his head. The crowd boos as Hall goes over and tells the timekeeper to ring the bell.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Funyon: "Here is your winner, and NEW SJL Television Champion, JOHN DURANNNNNNNNNNN!"

 

John tries to hurry Hall up in getting the TV belt to him before he can get a revenge attack from Quiet Death. Hall gives him the belt and John takes off just as Quiet Death enters the ring, looking to break Duran in half. Duran just laughs as he trots backwards down the aisle, holding up the TV title in celebration, the crowd continuing to boo.

 

Axis: "I don't believe this! Quiet Death wasn't even involved in the winning fall!"

 

King: "That's the way these matches work, and I love it! The right man won in this triangle match!"

 

Axis: "Maybe so, but kudos to Quiet Death and Terry Wayne on a match well fought against such a cheater as John Duran."

 

King: "Like he says, SIN TO WIN, baby!"

[Guest realitycheck]

“Three Libras” by a Perfect Circle begins to play it’s slow, melodic tune as Metal comes back from a short break. Soon after the music begins, Christian Blackwell makes his way out to the center of the ramp, looking down towards the steel floor as a few fans cheer, but the rest just look on quietly, watching him as he slowly walks down the ramp, small flames flickering to life beside him as if he were a druid.

 

“Welcome back from the break,” Axis says with a welcoming smile. “We’re gonna launch straight into our next match, and why not? It’s a bloody doozy!”

 

“Don’t ever use that phrase again Axis, please.” King answers with a groan.

 

Funyon gets on the mic as Blackwell nears the ring, walking up the steel steps and climbing into the ring, “The following match is for the Smarks Junior League European Championship!” The crowd cheers at the sound of the prestigious title. “… Introducing first, from Rosslare Ireland. Standing six foot four inches tall and weighing in at two hundred and thirty seven pounds… please welcome… CHRISTIAN BLACKWELL!”

 

Blackwell looks up at the crowd, panning through each face, trying to read what they are thinking inside, thinking about him. He thinks about what his brother said, and wonders if they really do care about him after all…

 

“Blackwell has been a bit disheartened by the fans over the past few weeks, and I guess they’re letting him know how they feel, and he knows how he should feel now…” King says, glaring at the fans. “It’s sad the way these fans treat these guys.”

 

He is somewhat answered as the fans suddenly spring to life, the lights blacken out, the fans are normally silent, but they cheer as a green light comes down from the heavens and illuminates the entranceway. The SmarkTron comes to life, the video running through a lush green forest at great speeds, finally stopping about 20 feet in front of a man, wielding a bow and arrow. He pulls the arrow back, releases, and as it reaches the screen, pyrotechnics on the opposite wall explode as “Forest” by System of a Down blasts across the loud speakers, and the sleeping crowd comes back to life as Tristan Whitt, also known as Tryst, comes rushing out of the back to stand within the spotlight, Bow in one hand, arrow in the other.

 

Funyon gets on the mic again, “… And his opponent, he hails from Bairnsdale, Britain. Standing six foot one, and weighing two hundred and eighteen pounds… he is the current SJL European Champion, he is… TRYST!”

 

Making his way down the ramp, Tryst takes off his quiver of arrows and hands it to the timekeeper, along with his bow as he rolls into the ring and soaks in the cheers from the rhapsodic crowd. The lights fade back up to normal, as Tryst eyes Blackwell while the fans cheer for the Sherwood fable, already beginning to chant the champs name in unison.

 

“Tryst is clearing the favourite here tonight,” Axis comments. “These fans have loved him ever since he has graced the halls of the Junior League, and he has taken their support and ran with it, winning the European title for the mighty Atlas!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, the fans give him the power to win, blah, blah. I’ll believe that when the fans raise their rings of power to the sky and call on the power of captain planet.”

 

“You watch too many cartoons in the morning, my friend…”

 

“Bah. Anyway, this should be a great match up, these two already facing once before with Tryst winning, but Blackwell has been impressive, so anything can happen…”

 

Blackwell is ready to go, taking a few menacing steps towards is English counterpart, but the eccentric Tryst still has his eyes on the referee, yelling something in his native, English tongue, before trying to rip off the arrow head hung around his shoulder! Blackwell intervenes before Tryst can act, clobbering him in the forehead with hard forearm shots, forcing Tryst into a corner. The Englishman, not too fond of his seedy Irish brethren, quickly counters, hitting a thrust kick into Blackwell’s beer belly! Tryst tries to avoid a fistfight, leaping onto Blackwell’s shoulders and holding on for dear life as Blackwell stumbles around the ring, trying to shrug him off!

 

“He may seem… kooky, at times,” Axis begins to say. “But inside that demented mind of his lies the cunning ring presence of a champion!”

 

“Axis, are you serious!?” King shouts in reply. “Tryst is obviously one step shy of being retarded! Just look how he’s not taking his eyes of the referee, it’s like he stalking him every second! The referee is just doing his job, and Tryst has built up in his mind that the ref is an evil villain. He lives in his own world Axis, he’s a menace to society!”

 

“That’s what the Mexican police said about you after our night in Mexico City…”

 

Finally Tryst is flung off of Blackwell’s shoulders, but he manages to land on his feet. Blackwell takes a swing, but Tryst comes right back at him with a spinning wheel kick! The Irishman drunkard manages to duck as Tryst rolls over his back. Blackwell quickly turns around, taking Tryst by surprise, trying to lift him up in a German Suplex! Despite his perfection with the move, Blackwell can’t hold Tryst back as he runs towards a corner, stepping up onto the first, second, and third turnbuckles, flipping over Blackwell’s head and kicking him square in the back, sending him face first into the turnbuckles!

 

“… Ok, he may not be retarded…” King manages to comment, in awe. “But he’ll slip up eventually, and if Stillwell weren’t here, I’m afraid of what he might do.”

 

“Luckily Stillwell is out here to keep him in line, but I think Tryst can handle himself after that awesome, awesome counter he just pulled! Blackwell looks totally surprised, and maybe he underestimated Tryst’s ability….”

 

“Or mental capacity,” King quickly retorts. “Blackwell is too cool, calm and collected to be surprised by anything, and he’ll wait till Tryst slips up and makes that one crucial mistake before making the final blow.”

 

Tryst puts his hands on the ropes beside him and uses them to spring into the air, dropping his knee down on Blackwell’s back! The crowd cheers as Tryst lays into Blackwell, hitting blows down his spinal cord, until the referee steps in, always the professional he yanks Tryst away and instructs him not to do it again. Tryst turns around, wide-eyed, until he yells to Stillwell, “My bow and quiver, Stillwell, hand them to me and I shall smite this heathen!” the referee just stares in disbelief, glancing toward Stillwell who just shrugs and sits down, smoking a joint.

 

Blackwell takes advantage of this momentary distraction, as he always does, slipping his arms around Tryst’s waist and lifting him into the air, slamming Tryst down on his back, holding onto him with a bridged pin!

 

 

… O – n - e!

 

 

 

 

… T - w – But Tryst manages to break the count, pushing out of the move. The crowd cheers in relief, seemingly setting off Blackwell’s violent streak, stomping on Tryst’s right leg again and again! The referee steps in once more pulling Blackwell away and giving him a piece of his mind! Blackwell restrains himself as he stares into the referee’ eyes, smiling for a moment, conducting himself like a gentleman, calmly going back to Tryst. The fans are suspicious of Blackwell’s demeanor as he lifts the Englishman onto his feet and whips him towards the ropes. Strangely, Tryst puts his arms around the top rope and stops himself from bouncing back off. Blackwell grunts as he charges towards his smaller opponent, but Tryst suddenly dives to the mat as Blackwell reaches him, low bridging the ropes, causing Blackwell to fly over onto the outside of the ring!

 

“… Ok, ok, you may be right Axis,” King grudgingly admits. “Tryst does have a brain for the business, but as we’ve already seen, he’s can be an out right spaz when he goes into his ‘other world’ as I call it. I tell you, it’s the drugs Axis.”

 

“I doubt we’ll be seeing Tristian “The Snake” Whitt anytime soon.” Axis replies with a chuckle.

 

King is unimpressed, “Hilarious Axis, here’s a tip, leave the jokes to me, Mr. Charisma.”

 

“… Bah. I told you I was right King, Tryst –is- smart, and if he keeps using these tactics, he’ll frustrate Blackwell until –he- is the one that makes the mistake.”

 

The referee begins a count, but as soon as he does, Blackwell slides into the ring. Tryst appeals to Stillwell to aid him, but he is too preoccupied by the Smurfs that run across the rafters to notice. Blackwell climbs back to his feet, just able to duck a flying clothesline from Tryst. The Robin Hood wannabe bounces off the ropes and leaps across the ring again, jumping onto Blackwell’s back and hanging on for dear life as he applies a shaky sleeper hold! Blackwell almost laughs as he feels Tryst hang onto him, as he simply falls onto his back, crushing Tryst and burying him into the canvas!

 

“…I just don’t get it!” King yells. “He was taking control, he seemed to know what he was doing, and then he goes and ruins it all by trying such a idiotic move as that!”

 

“It was folly King, Blackwell knew the counter that was simple, yet deadly effective. Blackwell is as much unpredictable as Tryst is!”

 

Blackwell seems quite proud of his efforts, but the crowd definitely does not share his optimism, some boos actually start to ring out from the crowd. Blackwell seems not to notice as he grabs Tryst by the leg and dives to the mat, locking his own legs around Tryst’s and twisting it with his hands! The referee slides over to check for the submission, but before he can, Tryst kicks Blackwell in the face with his free leg! The Irishman breaks the leg lock hold on the Sherwood fable, but dives across at him as he tries to get to his feet, pounding away with forearm shots! Tryst kicks Blackwell away again, striking him in the ribs, causing Blackwell to back away, and protecting the injury he still carries. Both men get to their feet, as Blackwell tries to clothesline Tryst out of his boots, but Tryst manages to duck, pivoting around and charging towards Blackwell, leaping into the air with a cross body! Blackwell catches Tryst! The Irishman stumbles around for a second like he just got thrown out of a pub, then steadies himself, dropping Tryst on his knee with a back breaker!

 

“Ooh, Blackwell spared no expense with that move, nearly snapping Tryst in two with a lethal back breaker, a great technical move,” King admires while cringing for Tryst.

 

Blackwell stands over Tryst, knowing he has time, grabbing Tryst’s leg and lifting it into the air, twisting himself around it and then grabbing Tryst’s free leg, dropping to the mat and hooking his leg over Tryst’s ankle, locking on a figure four! The referee is distracted by Stillwell slamming his hand on the canvas for no particular reason, before figuring out he has to look for the submission, diving onto all fours and asking Tryst if he’ll give up. Tryst, gritting his teeth through the pain shouts, “You’ll never get me to submit, Nottingham! Never!”

 

“What is Tryst babbling about now?” King asks.

 

“I have no idea King, but he’s determined to break this hold, starting to turn himself over to reverse the figure four!”

 

The referee almost seems surprised to see the Sherwood fable able to counter such a devastating submission from Blackwell, and watches intently for the move to be reversed. The Irishman is determined not to let Tryst get away, trying to put his legs through more pain, and ultimately disable him. But Tryst is far from disabled as he digs his fingers into the canvas, turning himself over…

 

…Onto his stomach! The crowd cheers wildly and starts to chant, “Tryst! Tryst! Tryst!” But the celebration is short lived as Blackwell lunges forward and grabs onto the bottom rope! A disappointed sigh is let out from the capacity crowd as the referee makes Tryst break the hold, which he sees as a sign of treason. The referee still confused by Tryst’s erratic behavior, steps away, but Tryst is furious with the referee! “I’m onto you and your treacherous plot to kill the king Nottingham! Don’t think for a second I’ll let you get away with it!” The referee is looking past Tryst though, almost hoping that Blackwell kicks his ass so he can officiate in peace. The Irishman climbs to his feet, sneaking up behind his prey and locking his neck around his arm, trying to bend him with a dragon sleeper! Tryst kicks and shakes violently, and Blackwell is unable to lock it on! He rethinks his strategy, lifting Tryst into the air with an inverted Suplex! Blackwell throws Tryst over his shoulder, but the Sherwood fable lands on his two feet! Blackwell turns around in surprise, only to be caught in a Northern Lights Suplex! Tryst executes it perfectly as the referee slams his fist on the mat…

 

 

… O – n - e!

 

 

 

 

 

… T – w - o – But he’s unable to keep hold of the larger Blackwell, and the Irishman kicks out strongly. Blackwell escapes to the safety of a corner while Tryst eyes the referee suspiciously, picturing him wearing a black tunic with a sword at his belt. The Englishman whips Blackwell across the ring, the Irishman thumping into the turnbuckles and grunting, holding his ribs. Tryst is in two minds as he looks at the referee out of the corner of his eye, and at Blackwell, charging towards his opponent, leaping into the air…

 

“Something is seriously wrong with Tryst,” King reiterates. “It seems he’s in two minds whether to attack the referee, or Blackwell!”

 

“Don’t you worry King, with his European title on the line, he won’t be taking Blackwell lightly. Who knows, maybe Tryst is luring Blackwell into a false sense of security?”

 

“No Axis, he’s a fruitcake, no doubt about it.”

 

But Blackwell puts his hands underneath Tryst and throws him onto the top rope! Amazingly, Tryst keeps his balance on the top rope as Blackwell turns around, almost looking cocky, but he looses his smile as Tryst flips off of the turnbuckle, twisting in the air and landing right on top of Blackwell with a corkscrew plancha!

 

“Absolutely beautiful move from Tryst!” Axis yells. “Instead of making the fans happy, Blackwell seems to be glad he isn’t making the fans cheer.”

 

“His brother is right when he says these fans are fickle,” King replies. “And Blackwell is too intelligent not to know that, and too intelligent to not heed his brother’s advice.”

 

Blackwell rolls away, trying to recover quickly as Tryst takes advantage, bringing Christian to his feet, striking him with a few European uppercuts before whipping him towards the ropes. One high flying move is followed by another as Whitt turns around and runs toward the ropes, jumping onto the second rope and flipping back off in a slow arch, landing on top of Blackwell as he returns, landing on top of him with an Asai Moonsault! But Blackwell manages to catch Tryst, holding onto him over his shoulder, charging forward and crushing him against the turnbuckle! Tryst is hung out to dry as Blackwell drapes his opponent’s legs over the top rope, trapping him in the tree of woe. Blackwell has the time to look around at the fans, some look on angry as Blackwell dominates their favourite Sherwood character once again. Christian just sighs and shakes his head, heading to the opposite corner of the ring, looking at Tryst as he hangs there without hope of escape. Blackwell rubs his hands together before charging across the ring, sliding halfway across the canvas with a diving dropkick…

 

… But Tryst pulls his torso up, narrowly escaping Blackwell’s feet! Blackwell crotches himself on the ring post! The fans cheer as Tryst hangs back down in his current position, grabbing Blackwell by the hair and yanking his head up and down in a impromptu submission hold!

 

“Wow!” Is all Axis can say. “The experienced Blackwell took too long to capitalize there, and if he had it would have been lights out for Tryst. But now Tryst is regaining the advantage with a unique but devastating submission hold, arching Blackwell’s back up and pulling on his neck!”

 

“A unique but –illegal- submission hold, Axis!” King yells. “He shouldn’t be allowed to do this! C’mon ref!”

 

“-You- are complaining about something illegal? Everything you do is illegal! I mean, you stole that chair from the guy next to you!”

 

King just laughs as the timekeeper scowls, swearing to King that he will one day get his chair back. The real drama however, is back in the ring, as the referee forces Tryst to let go and helps him out from the turnbuckles. Tryst eyes the ref wearily, not knowing whether this kindness is genuine, or another Nottingham trap. But Tryst turns his mind back to Blackwell, grabbing him around the head and pulling him out from the ring post, lifting him to his feet, rearing back onto one foot, forcing all his weight forward as his arm comes down…

 

“SLAP!” Catching Blackwell across the chest with a knife-edge chop! Blackwell just shakes his head as he grabs Tryst and trades places with the Englishman, throwing his opponent into the turnbuckles and showing hi how it’s done…

 

“SLAP!” His arm slapping across his chest with a knife-edge chop of his own!

 

“SLAP!”

 

“SLAP!” “Blackwell seemed insulted that Tryst dare hit him with a knife-edge chop!” King shouts. “Blackwell needs to school this kooky kid in his technical ways.”

 

“Oooh!” The fans do cry after every blow is struck, Blackwell leaving Tryst’s chest beet red as he whips him across the length of the ring, into the opposite turnbuckle. Blackwell follows Tryst in after the whip, but the Sherwood fable quickly counters, placing his hands on the top rope and using them to jump up into the air, landing his feet on Blackwell shoulder’s! Blackwell puts his hands on Tryst’s feet, throwing him off onto the apron outside of the ring, quickly trying to knock him off with a forearm blow, but Tryst counters with a quick shoulder tackle to the stomach. Tryst leaps onto the top rope before Blackwell can recover, landing his arm around Christian’s neck and twisting around in the air, turning himself around to the center of the ring and nailing Blackwell with a Tornado DDT!

 

“Great athleticism!” Axis compliments. “He may have surprised Blackwell enough to get a sneaky pin fall!” The fans chant along as the referee bangs his palm on the canvas, Tryst hooking Blackwell by the leg!

 

 

“… O – n – e!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“… T – w – o!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“…… T – h – r – “ No! Blackwell kicks out! The fans sigh in disappointment as Blackwell rolls away and Tryst once again suspects the referee of foul play, but sticks to his task as he sees his European title sitting on the announce desk. Blackwell climbs to his feet, but is struck by a few sharp kicks from Tryst, before attempting to whip Blackwell into the ropes. Christian however, reverses the whip into a short arm clothesline! But it fails to connect as Tryst rolls on the canvas, ducking the blow, then reaching back and putting his arm between Blackwell and rolling him up with a simple schoolboy!

 

“If anyone should know how to perform a schoolboy, it’s an Englishman! Tryst surprises Blackwell again, and maybe this will do it this time!” Axis calls out.

 

 

“… O – n – e!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“… T – w – o!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“…… T – h – “ No again! The crowd begins to electrify as they feel the end coming closer, Blackwell climbing to his feet to meet the threat from Tryst, who tries to knock his opponent silly with more European uppercuts. Blackwell mounts a comeback though, cracking Tryst in the forehead with some hard right hands, forcing him towards the ropes. Blackwell whips his opponent across the ring, placing himself into the center of the ring as Tryst return, grabbing one of his arms as he trips Tryst onto the canvas face first with a drop toe hold! Blackwell tries to lock on the Chickenwing, setting up the Cattle Mutilation submission!

 

“Blackwell’s attempting the Narcosynthesis!” King shouts in glee. “No one has escaped his clutches in this move yet… but Tryst is beginning to fight!”

 

Tryst struggles on the mat as he squirms and wiggles himself free from Blackwell’s grasp, rolling onto his back and kicking Blackwell in the face with both feet! The Irishman groggily stumbles backward into the ropes, bouncing off and coming back towards Tryst, who quickly climbs to his feet, ready to catch Blackwell unawares…

 

“Time for the Crusade!” Axis shouts in return. “Both men are trading finishers here, but Tryst has the momentum behind him, scoring two close near falls on Blackwell, and the Crusade will surely put the Irishman out!”

 

“But Blackwell is the sort of guy who doesn’t let momentum bother him, he’ll counter anything and everything! At least, I hope he does…” King says rather worryingly, biting his nails Tryst grabs Blackwell, throwing his arm over his shoulder and grabbing him by the belt, lifting him into the air quickly…

 

… Tryst spins Blackwell forward in the air, trying to plant him face first! But Blackwell lands safely on two feet! Christian kicks Tryst in the stomach, putting him in a standing headscissors and hoisting him onto his shoulders! But Tryst still fights on, Blackwell beginning to lose his grasp on Tryst, so he simply throws him over his head! But Tryst lands on the top rope on both feet! As Blackwell turns around, Tryst does as well, smiling as he leaps off the top, performing a front flip, aiming for Blackwell’s head…

 

… But Blackwell steps aside at the last second, causing Tryst to land face first on the mat! Blackwell, as quick as we’ve ever seen him before, falls on top of Tryst, holding him in place while he hooks his arms in a Chickenwing! Tryst begins to squirm hi arms out, but Blackwell simply lifts Tryst up and slams his head down on the canvas again and again!

 

“That’s, that’s… stop him ref! He can’t be allowed to do that!” Axis cries.

 

But Blackwell soon pummels Tryst enough to flip over the top of him, placed dead center in the ring, yanking back on Tryst’s arm while in a bridge position, locking on the Cattle Mutilation! As the referee slides over, Tryst yells, “I give up!”

 

“Yes!” King shouts happily. “That’s it! Tryst gives up in the Narcosynthesis! New champeen!”

 

“I can’t believe it!” Axis shouts in reply. “Tryst had all the momentum leading up to his two finishers, but Blackwell, the ring general that he is, simply countered each of Tryst’s moves and locked on the Cattle Mutilation to win his first SJL title!”

 

As Blackwell climbs to his feet, looking out at he fans who say or do little, simply watching on, the referee raises Black’s arm in the air as Funyon announces…

 

“The winner of this match and the… NEW, Smarks Junior League EUROPEAN CHAMPION… CHISTIAN BLACKWELL!”

 

Blackwell is handed the title, and he looks down at it, then at the fans, only a few of them cheering for him. He seems more hurt than pleased right now as he slides back out of the ring, throwing the title over his shoulder as he walks back up the ramp a victorious man.

 

“Stay tuned after the break for tonight’s main event"

[Guest realitycheck]

Pardon, please, the narrow confinement of your limbs.

Unfortunately, it's necessary for your correction.

Shriek to your heart's, content if you wish

I promise you pain and Nightmares, in that sequence!

 

The growled tones and screaming guitars of Cryptopsy blast out in the locker room, as the World Champ swings his head round and round, headbanging to the music.

 

Permit me to introduce you to "Tuesday"...

I favour her, this pretty blade, so tall and fine.

Hatred and violence are not our ways, but firm we are.

Squirming is useless, so is this colon, cry for me.

 

Beating his fists in the air, Dace grabs a bottle of water and pours it over his head.

 

Svelte is implement, its gentle caress lets you Bleed.

its subtle curvature, dancing, deeply slit your guts.

 

Throwing back his head and letting out a growl with the guitar solos, he crushes the bottle in his hand, and throws it away.

 

It's for your own good, you need guidance, I provide.

What is your pleasure? This is mine, A welcome change!

 

The music clicks off.

 

"Well, well Atlas, Number One Contender to my Title. Didn't I warn you that would be a bad idea?"

 

He smirks to the camera

 

"But no matter. I'm not the sort to attack you tonight in your match. What would be the point, the longer you wrestle, the more I can see your plans."

 

"You're not getting any lucky wins this time. Oh no. I'll have a few things planned for you."

 

Leaning into the camera, he growls a whisper.

 

"If you piss me off boy, it's going to be a Return to Darkness and Evil! To Fire and Flame! To Blasphemy! Desecration Hell and Damnation! All for Victory!"

[Guest realitycheck]

[King] Welcome back! You’re right on time to see the heavily promoted Schoolgirl in a Sandbox match between Sean Atlas and Dace Night for the World Title!

 

[Axis] What are you talking about, King? That was an April Fools joke. The match coming up next isn’t Schoolgirl in a Sandbox and isn’t for the World Title, but rather, a rematch between Sean Atlas and Spike Jenkins.

 

[King] You know every kind of way to kill a joke, don’t you?

 

 

The heavy metal beats of “Winds of Creation” by Decapitated sound through the arena as Dace Night walks through the curtain under red and purple lights. He wears his typical black jeans and boots, but has on his bran new “Horrorcore 666” jersey on under the trench coat. His trusty World Championship belt is secured around his waist.

 

 

[Axis] What’s this? Why is Dace Night out here? He’s not in the match.

 

[King] Aha! So the Sandbox match Is coming up! Why do you lie to me, Axis?

 

[Axis] I’m not lying, and there is no sandbox. Dace isn’t supposed to be here. He’s not even dressed in his gear.

 

 

As Dace walks down the ramp, a flustered Funyon scrambles to announce him...

 

“Umm, making his way towards the ring, the SJL World Heavyweight Champion, DACE NIGHT!”

 

He makes it to the ring, but instead of stepping inside, Dace walks around to the side.

 

 

[Axis] I think he’s joining us for commentary, King!

 

[King] Whoop de doo... Oh, hey champ! Come ‘ere and take a seat, won’t you?

 

 

Dace sits down next to the Suicide King and puts on his headset.

 

[Dace] You two must be wondering why I’m out here.

 

[King] Well, it definitely isn’t to see Spike wrestle.

 

[Dace] Of course not. I can beat Spike any day of the week. It’s Sean Atlas that I’m here for. We have a match on Crimson for my World Title and I’ve heard it’s a Deathmatch, which is right up my alley. But it seems like Atlas can in that environment so, I’m out here to scout him.

 

[Axis] I see. And you’ll be staying here at this table the entire time, correct.

 

[Dace] You got it.

 

 

“Look at me Now” by Reveille hits the speakers, resulting in a hometown pop from the fans. Lights flash throughout the arena as Spike walks out onto the stage, taken aback slightly by the cheers. He struts down the ramp, pretending not to pay any attention to them. Funyon takes up his announcing duties once again.

 

“The following match is set for one fall. Introducing first, originally from Long Island, NEW YORK... (pop) ...weighing in at 220 pounds, “Hollywood” SPIKE JENKINS!”

 

 

[Dace] Spike looks like he’s healed up well since Damnation in a Box. Good for him.

 

[King] He’s had plenty of problems with others, like Sean Atlas, since then, losing to him twice.

 

[Axis] Yes, but he became the first man to beat Sean Atlas, so you may want to watch him closely as well.

 

 

Spike makes it to the ring and rolls inside. Taking off his leather jacket, Jenkins tosses it onto the top turnbuckle pad and poses in the ring, taking in some cheers from the fans. He looks over towards Dace, wondering just why he’s out here. But Spike quickly turns away to keep his eyes on the entrance, awaiting Sean Atlas.

 

Suddenly, the starting chords of “Polyamorous” begin to play through the sound system, and after five second of these guitar riffs...

 

*BOOM*

 

... An explosion of white pyro goes off onstage, echoing throughout Madison Square Garden. Through the resulting smoke walks Sean Atlas, wearing the usual mask and white tights with an artistic black pattern. As he marches down the ramp, Sean looks at Spike in the ring, and Dace seated at the announcer’s table on the other side. The New York fans boo him on his way down.

 

“And his opponent, from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 230 pounds... SEAN ATLAS!”

 

Sean arrives at ringside, where his attention is focused solely on Spike. Jumping inside, Atlas walks around his opponent to the corner and stands on the middle rope, keeping a keen eye on the New York crowd. He quickly turns to Dace, but doesn’t give him a long enough stare before jumping down and coming to Spike

 

 

[King] It’s Atlas-Jenkins 4, and this time, it’s...

 

[Dace] Meaningless!

 

 

*Ding Ding*

 

 

And the match is on! Immediately after the bell, Atlas charges at Spike, looking to take him down with a spear to start things off... but Jenkins leaps over him, avoiding it. Sean stops short of the turnbuckle, where he turns around to see Spike coming towards him in a handspring...

 

 

[Axis] Tidal Wave! Atlas should know this move...

 

 

... And Atlas moves out of the way, leaving Spike with nothing in the corner but the pads! Sean sneaks up behind him and pulls him back by the legs, taking his feet out from under him. Jenkins falls, face first to the mat. He doesn't let it faze him though and gets to his feet right away, looking for Sean behind him. Atlas finds him first, with the back of his hand...

 

*SMACK*

 

The sound of flesh on flesh echoes throughout the Garden, as the fans "Whoo" along with it.

 

*SMACK*

 

Atlas attacks him as if Spike called his mama fat, chopping Jenkins back, closer to the corner behind him.

 

*SMACK*

 

Finally, he is forced against the turnbuckle pads, and Atlas stops with the chops... *smack* ...now. Sean lowers his shoulder and grabs the middle rope on either side of Jenkins, and with one strong tug he thrusts it into Spike's gut. Atlas pulls back, and again, drives his shoulder into Jenkins' midsection.

 

 

[Axis] The Big Apple fans jeer him as he continues the barrage of shoulder thrusts, standing solidly behind hometown boy Spike.

 

[King] yes. Weird, isn’t it? Especially when Atlas is dominating things so far here. What do you think of that, champ?

 

[Dace] I think Atlas is just showing off here. He knows he’s better than Spike, and wants me to see that. He’s doing exactly what I want him to do.

 

After nearly half a dozen shoulder thrusts, Jenkins finally gets angered enough to force Atlas away, and lifts his knee up to his Sean under his chin. Atlas is forced back rubbing his neck, when Spike pushes himself away from the corner and with the same leg he kneed Atlas with, tries to kick him from the side. Sean catches the leg though, and holds it under his arm as Jenkins hops on one foot like a crippled kangaroo. He gets ready to try an Enziguri, but Atlas quickly stops him before he starts. Sean throws his arm around Spike's neck, in an attempt to set up a Leg Capture Suplex...

 

But Spike remembers the move from their earlier matches and forces Atlas away with his hands. However, his foot is still in Sean's arms. Quickly, Atlas switches the arm that holds Spike's leg and again, swings his arm around Jenkins' neck. Lifting him up before Spike can pull away, Atlas hoists his opponent and drops him on his back with a Fisherman's Suplex! He keeps the hold on and bridges for the pin...

 

 

 

. . . ONE. . .

 

 

 

 

. . . TWO . . .

 

NO! Spike kicks out

 

 

[Dace] AHA! See, he can’t even take out Jenkins. What a loser.

 

[King] He beat you, didn’t he?

 

[Axis] King, hold your tongue.

 

[King] Axis, lose yours.

 

 

Knowing that he wouldn't have gotten a three count this early, Atlas casually stands up and takes Spike's hand, pulling him to his feet. Continuing the motion, Atlas tries whipping Spike into the ropes again. Jenkins bounces off and on his return to Atlas, tries to clothesline him... but Atlas ducks it and as Spike runs past him, Sean turns around and follows him, to be close when he comes off the ropes again. But instead of running the ropes as usual, Spike jumps towards them and lands on the middle one... He bounces off it and thrusts his leg out... catching Atlas with a springboard back kick! The fans pop for the move and for Jenkins, getting behind him even further.

 

 

[Axis] Jenkins blindsides Sean Atlas, taking him down with speed and agility.

 

[King] Why do these people like Spike so much?

 

[Dace] Because he’s like them!. He’s one of them, born in New York.

 

[King] Ah yes, Hudson River scum. They all attract each other, don’t they...

 

 

Jenkins comes to his feet, only to meet a near standing Sean Atlas. Hollywood hits a couple of forearms to Sean’s head, making him back up near the ropes, and then uses his fingers to rake Sean’s eyes, in plain view of the referee. He then follows up with a kick to the gut before scooping him up off his feet; turning him and slamming the champion back down onto his knee with a Backbreaker. Noticing where Atlas lays, Spike stands and dashes towards the ropes opposite Sean...

 

 

[King] He’s going for the rolling Thunder!

 

To the cheers of the fans, Spike comes off the ropes and dives down, somersaulting on his way back.

 

[Axis] Hollywood rolls through, comes back up to his feet and...

 

 

Jenkins lands with his back across Sean’s chest, compressing his ribs.

 

 

[Dace] Note to self: Atlas is dumb enough to not move away from the move.

 

 

Atlas tries to catch his breath. He isn't given enough time however, as Spike brings him up to his feet. He takes Sean by the arm and whips him across the ring, but into a corner. As Atlas comes into it with his back, Spike is already running and on the way there, does a handspring off the ring mat... Turning back upright, Spike comes into the corner and jumps, aiming for Sean's face with his feet... and hits it with both, perfectly executing The Spotlight on his second attempt! Atlas turns and leans over, instinctively grabbing his face, despite the mask acting as sort of an insufficient shield for him.

 

 

[Axis] If at first you don’t succeed...

 

[King] Be quiet. Use some original lines. Ever the... ahem, charismatic, Dace Night has better material than you tonight.

 

[Axis] Hey!

 

[Dace] He insulted us both...

 

[Axis] Two birds with one sto...

 

[King] Oh, would you just stop!

 

 

Spike wastes no time as he turns Sean back around, then puts him in a front face lock. He lifts the masked man into the air and places him on the top turnbuckle, making sure to slam him down hard. Jenkins throws a couple of punches at him, ignoring Ced’s remarks about them. Once he stops, Spike climbs up, first to the second rope then to the top one and makes sure to blatantly force his crotch against Sean's face. Waiting for a moment to hear a pop from the fans, Spike jumps onto Atlas shoulders, legs around his head... Then pulls back and twists his body, throwing Atlas off the top and into the ring with a Top Rope Hurricanrana!

 

 

[Axis] Frankensteiner from Jenkins!

 

[Dace] Spike is actually doing a good job here... Oh look, he’s about to pin him!

 

 

Spike crawls over and clutches Sea’s legs to cover...

 

 

. . . ONE . . .

 

 

 

. . . T W O . . .

 

 

 

NO! Atlas kicks out, refusing to take a loss to Spike Jenkins.

 

 

[King] You realize, Dace, that since Atlas beat you and a month ago, Spike beat Atlas, that it means Jenkins is actually better than you...

 

[Dace] Have you forgotten Damnation in Box already, King?

 

[King] Oh, Right. Well then, this is awfully confusing...

 

 

Upset with the count, Jenkins bangs his fist on the ring surface. He stands up and motivated, he walks to the corner of the ring. The crowd begins to sense what he's about to try and the noise in the Gund Arena grows louder. Spike grips the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle pad, then swings himself up to the top, one foot landing on the metal support between the ringpost and pad. Some flashbulbs go off as the boos grow louder, and the spot-fanatics cheer his efforts on. Finally, Jenkins stands himself up on the top rope and leaps off.... contracting and explaining his body in the air... and lands THE RATINGS GRABBER...

 

 

 

... On the empty surface of the ring! Atlas rolled away just in time to escape the frog splash!

 

 

[Dace] Dammit!

 

[King] Too early, Spike!

 

[Dace] if he landed that, the match would be over by now and we could be driving beck to the hotel! Dumbass Jenkins.

 

 

Spike rolls around on the mat, clutching his belly. Atlas, meanwhile, is sitting up nearby. He gets one knee down, then plants his foot, and finally his other foot. He stands up completely, hoping he could swing the momentum of the match his way. He walks over to Jenkins and by his hair alone, forces him to his feet. Moving to the side of him, Atlas sneaks his leg behind Spike's then his arm around him to hit a Russian Leg Sweep... but Jenkins isn't hurt enough to allow it, and instead, reverses it and drives Atlas down face first into the mat! Spike slides over near Atlas' head and outs his arm around the front of his neck. He pulls back and gets on top of Sean, trying to set up THE SILVER LINING!

 

 

[Axis] He could end it here, King! Just has to get that hold on tight...

 

 

Atlas struggles, trying to keep a bad situation from getting worse... Somehow, he manages to get both arms free and uses them to pry off Spike's hand... Atlas forces Jenkins off him and rolls to the side, quickly standing up. Spike rolls off in the opposite direction and also stands. But before he can turn around, Atlas latches on around Spike's neck, and quickly snaps his arm around Spike's shoulder, locking on the KATAHAJIME CHOKE!

 

 

[Axis] Katahajime! Atlas locked on the Katahajime choke on Spike Jenkins!

 

[King] This is it! Hollywood’s finished!

 

[Dace] Perfect, Sean. Perfect.

 

 

The referee, Ced Ordoñez, runs over to face Spike, asking if he’s ready to quit... Jenkins fights the desire to give up though, and shakes it off... Atlas continues to tighten his grip and put more torque on the hold, keeping Jenkins in place... Spike flails his hands, trying to at least shake one arm loose... Nothing helps though, as Sean’s grip is just too tight...

 

 

[Dace] See, this is exactly what Atlas’ game plan has been all along. He’s got this and the Saint’s Demise. Nothing more.

 

[King] It took you this long to figure that out?

 

[Dace] It’s obvious, King. You see his matches every week and it’s always the same. Just watch who has the upper hand on Crimson...

 

 

Spike gradually starts to fade away... His legs buckle and arms no longer shake... His weight gets harder to hold for Sean, who now has to work at keeping him standing...

 

BUT!

 

Suddenly, Spike comes back to life and slides down between Atlas’ legs! He pulls Sean’s arms through, flipping Atlas over onto his shoulders and wriggling his way out of the hold! Hollywood instantly grabs hols of Atlas’ legs, bending him in half for the pin...!

 

 

 

. . . O N E . . .

 

 

 

 

 

. . . T W O . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

. . . T H R E E E E E E . . . . . . . .

 

 

 

N N N O O O O O O O O O O O !

 

 

 

[King] Atlas kicks out! Spike was playing possum!

 

[Dace] Dammit!

 

[Axis] Spike looked like he was fading away to the Katahajime, but it was all just for show!

 

[Dace] Even Jenkins has him scouted! (Standing up, yelling to Atlas) You’re nothing, Sean! I'll smash your teeth so far down your throat, you'll be able to eat out of your ass!

 

 

Atlas notices Dace standing at the commentary table while trying to absorb the shock of nearly losing to Spike... again. Jenkins meanwhile lies in the ring, exhausted as the stunt he just pulled took more out of him than he imagined. While Dace continues to throw more profanities at Sean than Goldberg at a Triple H autograph signing, Atlas finally loses it and rolls out to ringside~!

 

 

[King] He’s coming this way!

 

[Dace] Let him!

 

 

Atlas heads for the champion, staring into his eyes. Nothing but the commentary table separates the two, and the other announcers stand up to move out of the way if hell is about to break loose.

 

 

[Axis] All hell is about to break loose here!

 

[King] Good call, ace.

 

 

Dace points to the World Title lying between them on the desk. Atlas takes his gaze off the champion for a moment to look at the belt, then looks back up and grins at him. Suddenly, Atlas rear his arm back, about to take a swing...

 

 

[King] Sean’s throwing the first punch...!!!

 

 

But instead of hitting Dace, Atlas snatches the title belt off the table and heads back for the ring.

 

 

[Axis] Atlas just stole Dace Night’s championship! That’s not even his!

 

[King] Stolen property! Where’s Tryst when you need him?

 

 

Sean slides into the ring head first as the sound of Dace throwing off his headset is heard through the audio. The champion gives chase, going after Atlas... But just as Sean enters the ring, meeting a half standing and drowsy Spike Jenkins, Dace jumps onto the apron only to receive a...

 

 

[King] Superkick! Superkick from Atlas to the chin of the champ, taking him off the apron!

 

[Axis] He’s still got that belt and I don’t think Spike can see him...

 

[King] And Sean is about to...!

 

[Axis] Aaaaah!

 

 

*CRACK*

 

 

[King] Atlas knocks Spike out with a shot from the championship gold!

 

[Axis] That’s a Disqualification! Is Ced going to... yes, he is!

 

 

Ced Ordoñez runs over to the side of the ring, waving his finger in the air...

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Funyon gets on the mic, but...

 

“Your winner as a result of Disqualification... HOLLYWOOD SPIKE JENK...!”

 

The now standing Dace Night cuts him off, seizing the microphone from his hands.

 

“And your LOSER, beated for the SECOND time by Spike... SEAN ATLAS! Give him a hand, New York!”

 

Dace gets the cheap pop from the Madison Square Garden crowd, insulting Sean over the speaker system and trying to make Spike look good. Meanwhile, Atlas stands in the ring holding the championship, with a down and out (and also bleeding) Spike Jenkins at his feet. “Look at me Now” by Reveille hits the speakers again, eliciting another sustained cheer from the crowd for both Dace and Spike.

 

 

[King] Bad move by Atlas, letting his frustrations with Dace Night get the better of him.

 

[Axis] But he’s still got the belt in his hands, a belt that Dace Night owns.

 

 

Dace throws the mic away, grinning from ear to ear. In the ring, Sean is visibly angry, but tries his best not to show it. He bends down, placing the belt in the middle of the ring, far enough away from Spike. Slowly, while backing away, Atlas heads for the ropes by the ramp and jumps through them, leaving the ring.

 

 

[Axis] Looks like Sean doesn’t want to deal with Dace tonight.

 

[King] Maybe not, but they both know what’s coming for them on Crimson...

 

 

Dace jumps into the ring, walking towards his belt. As Atlas backs away up the ramp, the champion picks up his belt, holding it forward and pointing to himself to show who the rightful holder of that title is. Sean does nothing but nod back in understanding.

 

 

[Axis] Next Thursday. SJL Crimson. Junior League World Championship. Sean Atlas vs. Dace Night. DEATHMATCH.

 

 

 

© 2003 Smartmarks. All Rights Reserved.

[Guest realitycheck]

Q n' D results, because really, do I do any other?

 

Syndicate > Omega Storm, in his debut!

 

John Duran > Wayne and Death for the TV Title!

 

Blackwell > Tryst for the European Title!

 

And lastly, Jenkins > Atlas in the main event!

 

Crimson Card should be up within a few...