Vasarian_Brandy

(Looks around for the angry MFer) (Checks the darkest alley he can find...) Hey Thugg! Need another victim for fantasy football?

Any more room in a league somewhere? I want to draft Tim Couch as a bench-warmer to Jeff Garcia and see if he whines in the virtual world as well...

Not a bad post-Apocalyptic (sp) PPV show. (Looks at his stats sheet warily) Buncha damn HOSS~! characters coming in to replace Janus, though. Ah well. (Shrugs, keeps on writing) Oh yeah... I'll be back in soon and stuff.

Well firstly, I'd like to congratulate "The Superstition"... (Snickers) ...I mean, "The Superstation"... On his dominating return and victory in the Mall Brawl. But I have to say one thing: My Indians have a more recent Series crown than yous! Nomah left for the Cubbies! How do ya like them apples... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!! But anyway... First card I've really taken a hard, close look at since I've slipped back into the boards, and I'd have to say I'm liking it pretty decently. The matches all seemed to have a lot of promise, and some damn good quality to them despite the enormous word counts. However... And this is a big however... The fact that only two people wrote for the Mall Brawl??? Default wins in a PPV??? C'mon, people... I might not have been around for a while, but I was in the league at a time where we had not one, but THREE leagues because we had a shitload of talent! To have a PPV with as little writing done as Z says there was (or wasn't, as the case may be)... It's inexcusable, unconsionable, and it's an insult to the markers and grand-poobahs that toil away in the back-scenes trying to make this E-fed the best damn thing under the sun. Having just read Big J's posting, it's understandable that people have their moments where they just don't "feel" it... Where their real life nabs them away from this little violent respite we have here. Heaven knows, I can relate. And I will relate again, if duty ever sends me away from my happy little niche here in the hole-in-the-wall I call my dorm room. And my comments above are in no means meant to slight, degreade, or insult people (like Janus) that have just gotten a little burned out and tired of the grind. That happens. The comments above ARE for those of you that talk a big game, that want to have the world in the palm of your hand... But seemingly don't put in the effort. The rules are simple, folks: Write your matches, hone your skills, and you'll do well. Slack off, not write... Might as well go home. And yes, I've fallen victim to this in my time here. Such is why I've waited so long to come back, and also why I'm taking my time. So I'll get off my soapbox now. Anyone has a problem with anything I've said... (Shrug) Sorry. But free speech is what I fight for everyday in my job. I'm entitled, just like all you are.

And yet another illustrious legend departs... (Sighs) Hope you come back to active soon, big guy.

(Smirks and sighs) I appear once on any championship list. And I'm a dinosaur compared to you young pups, so... ...Yeah.

Well for those in the Mall Brawl, I dug up a nice piece of work that I did... Yeah, maybe I'm tooting my own horn, but bite me. Anyway, it was a losing match... But it was one I was rather proud of. A lot of comedy, good action... And decent spots galore. And it won props with the Mall Brawl winner that time around... Though he did threaten to kick my ass. (Looks at Janus) So here it is... And, oh yes... The asterisked words were semi-intentional. I was fighting against a damn server-based censoring program. So... I just said, "Fuck it", and incorporated it into a 'network TV censoring deal' with the NFL. Enjoy! ---------- (Voiceover on a black screen) Uhh... This is a note to all the networks: Because we're running close to Super Bowl time, we've decided to implement a censoring system on today's broadcast. So... All networks, get ready to field the complaints, and... It has nothing to do with us. Back to program. The screen goes to static for a moment, and then... Sheer and utter mayhe* are the call of the day as the cameraman pans the crowd in the arena. The mood can best be described as 'electric', as fans of all ages, backgrounds, sizes - Ugh... Some too big of a size - have crammed into the arena to witness the pagentry, the awe-inspiring stardom, the... Aw, screw it. Everyone's here to watch for people getting broken, bloo*ied, and otherwise mangled. Because, like NASCAR, we all know that wrestling ain't anything without the crashes... Or something like that... *Ahem* Where were we? Oh! The cameraman! He's taking in the crowd, watching crazy, excited, and possibly drunk people whooping and hollering with their signs: "Elves Do It In The Forest", "Spike The Punch!", "Cutthroat - '04"... Oooooh, someone just lit that one on fire. Guess they didn't like it. But be that as it may, everyone's attention is diverted from the flames to the ring as "Li'l Bloo*red Riding Hood" by Children of Bodom bursts forth from the speakers. The fans get whipped into a feverish pitch, and the camera view zooms down to the floor. It settles onto the announce table, and the faces (or heel and face, or... whatever) of our two resident yahoos... But wait! Who's that behind them? The camera focuses in to find... No other then... David Carr, quarterback and full-time opposing teams' tackling dummy of the expansion Houston Texans! It's good to see David here after a harsh first season... Or, better yet... Still alive! He looks to carry some of the pain with him, as he's here in company of his strength trainer, a doctor, crutches, slings, and an IV drip of morphine. Poor guy. But, back to the announcers... Axis and The King! (Axis, excitedly) We've gone down the rabbit hole, folks... And where we've wound up is beyond anyone's imagination! Greetings everyone, and welcome to Houston, Texas... (King, in a low tone) Home of steers and quee*s... (Axis, slightly distracted) And the Compaq Center, site of this pay-per-view event, SJL: Malice In Wonderland! (King, in a serious tone) And if you haven't paid the low, low price of $69.95 to get all this excitement, I'll come to your place and douse your genitalia in gasoline and light it on fire. (Axis, a little shocked) That's a bit extreme... Don't you think? (King, haughty) Well, we here in the SJL don't take kindly to people that pirate our shi*. That's the one thing we can agree on, you ugly Aussie hoss. (Axis, muttering) You don't have to be so vulgar, you know. We -are- still on TV. (King) Ask me if I care, you flaming retard. Axis sighs, then after a beat... (Axis) Be that as it may... We've got a very exciting card on the table for tonight. (King, smiling smugly) Well technically, Axis, it's not on the table. It's in the arena, and in the mall. Axis looks at King for a second, then... (Axis) Let's get you a run-down of the action tonight. (King, muttering under breath) Stupid-ass Aussie can't take a joke... (Axis, a little louder) We have a Tag Team Tables match featuring the team of Chris Card and Crow, facing off against Arianwyn Rivenstone and her escort, Nocturna Bloo*moon. (King, sighing lus*ily) Ahhhhh, Arianwyn and Nocturna... The Disciples of Discord. Two fine-looking women that can come reign chaos in my world anytime. And you know damn well that Natasha's going to be there... Ahhhhh, Natasha... I'll give you the pain, baby... Oh yeah... Axis reaches over and smacks King upside the head. The two glare at each other for a beat. (Axis, grumbling) And what about Chris Card and Crow, King? (King, after a beat) Yeah, they'll rip each other to shreds in their corner... Leaving more air time for the three hotties! Woo-hoo! Axis sighs, shaking his head, then looks at the card. (Axis) After that, we have... The Domin*tion In A Box match, featuring "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins and Dace Night. This one sounds like a hardcor* lovers' dream! (King) Well, the military surplus store was having a "Going Out Of Business" sale, so the powers-that-be helped them out. I just about creamed myself when I saw this one: We've got C-4 explosi*es, barbed wire... Who knows what kind of weapons we'll be dropping in. I hope everyone likes pain and suffering, because there will be plenty of it to go around! (Axis, a little disgusted) That... One... Should be drawing in the fans... (mutters under his breath) Though not because of your 'endorsement', King... (back to normal volume) We also have an Ultimate Fight match tonight. Johnny Dangerous, Fugue... Your thoughts, King? (King, grumbling) This one might look like a cage match with a submission / TKO stip... But plain and simple, it's about respect. And that disgusts me. This match should not be following a Domin*tion In A Box match... This one shouldn't even be on the card! Just set the guys in a room with some por*o mags and tapes, and... (Axis, holding up a hand) Don't even go there. I'll just say that this match has been brewing for a long, long while, and I can't wait to see the result. Wrestling at its finest. (King, under his breath) And I'll just say I got a little too personal into Axis' se* life, apparently... Axis glares at King, who throws up his hands in feigned innocence. (King) What? (Axis, flustered) Just... Shut up. (King, smugly) Touchy, aren't we? (Axis, tuning King out) And for the final match of the night, we have your SJL World Champ, Ejiro Fasaki, taking on Wildchild in what could be the culminating match of their feud. (turning to King, a little hesitantly) Anything of intelligence to say? (King, looking a tad bit hurt) Yeah, actually... This is another one of those plain-jane matches, but there's always magic to be found in a belt bout. This one's been one of the longest-running feuds to date in the SJL, and there's good chance of these two getting bumped to the bigs. This will be the first time they've squared off in a honest-to-Dog singles match, so it'll be entertaining to see how much they let loose, or if they restrain too much because of the matches they've had in the past. And, though I'm not one for no-interference rules, it'll be interesting to see how these guys can handle things on their own. Axis looks completely shocked. King shrugs. (King) Don't look so surprised, asshol*. I choose when to be serious, and when to give you hell. (Axis) Gee, thanks. (King) Don't mention it. (Axis) ...Hey, did you say "honest-to-Dog" back there? (King, flatly and bluntly) No. Axis looks at King for a moment, then back into the camera. (Axis) But, to start off our night, a match that has grown into somewhat of a tradition here on SJL Pay-Per-Views. The Mall Brawl. We're not sure if this is the third, or the fourth, or what... But these have always been a treat. (King) Yeah, you gotta enjoy six, or seven SJL wrestlers tearing up a local mall... While there's people in it! Stores trashed! People's psyches scarred for life! And always a surprise or two on top of that! It'll be something to watch! Heh heh... Bloo*, carnage, deat*, destruction. King starts twitching like a fiend craving a fix. Axis slides his chair to the side, away from the Seizure King. (Axis) Let's... Uhm... Let's go out to the mall with our Ben Hardy... Ben? Are you there? -----(Transition)----- The scene fades slowly back in to one of, compared to the Compaq Center, tranquility. Families out strolling the Promenade. Elderly couples on the benches. The sounds of money being spent, and lives being lived. The camera swings around to find the lovable tool known as the SJL's head interviewer, Ben Hardy. (Hardy) Well greetings to all of you back at the Compaq Center, and greetings to all of you in TV land watching this SJL Pay-Per-View. Ben Hardy here, and welcome to Houston's largest area mall. Tonight's going to be an exciting night here as we hold our However-Many-th Annual Mall Brawl Match! An impromtu fan base throws up a sizable cheer as the refs and Hardy gather towards the info kiosk. We see Matt Kivell, looking oddly beat up and not quite himself... He looks much worse than the punching bag he is. There's Anthony Michael Hall, the evil Eddy Long, Suxton-I mean-Sexton Hardcastle... And a few other zebra-stripers for convenient cannon fodder / winner callers. Hardy and company remove the cover from a decent-sized boombox, and Hardy grabs up the remote. (Hardy) And now, for our superstar introductions! Hardy taps the first control... Whirrwhirrwhirr*clang*...Whirrwhirrspinnnnn... "I shut 'em down..." The speakers do their best impression of the Compaq Center's sound system as the beats of LL Cool J's "Shut 'Em Down" (Suicide Spin remix) reverberate against the kiosk the crowd cheers and looks around for the first superstar until... (Random Mall Patron) Hey, look! It's Steve Nash! The patrons start to boo, and flow towards the sighting. The mall security grunts manage to beat the throng off of... (Hardy) No, no, no folks... That is "Amazin'" Mike Van Siclen! The crowd hears that, and starts cheering, making a hole for the SJLer. MVS parts the crowd, seeming to not mind the mistaken fans, but looking an awful lot like the Dallas Mavs star. He is focused, poised, and nods to Hardy as he gets to the area where they're starting. Hardy taps the remote control. Whirrwhirrwhirr... Spinnnnn... Fear Factory's "Resurrection" is the next track, driving the small crowd into a chorus of boos. (Hardy) Our next combatant, from Sydney, Australia... The monster among men... Janus! The crowd unconciously clears the way for the huge man, while booing . Janus pays no heed, and just drives ahead. Him and MVS get into a staring contest, and you can already feel the tension ratchet up in this little area. Whirrwhirr... Clickclickspinnnnn... "Wait and Bleed" by Slipknot tears out of the speakers, and the impromptu crowd starts to cheer. (Hardy) The third victim, all the way from Easton, P-A... Insane... LUCHADOR! One of the crowd favorites, the throng cheers for several moments, then there's a slow realization... IL's not coming the same way the others did. Everyone looks all around. Nothing... Then, one little boy looks -up-... (Little Boy) What's that? Everyone turns to where the boy points to see... A man dressed in skate gear on the third floor ledge. He leaps down, and falls... falls... falls... But is saved from a quick end by the short bungee attached to his waist. As he bounds back up about 6 feet, he quick-releases the harness he was in, back-flipping to a feet-first landing on the ground by the rest of the fighters. The crowd loves it, Janus and MVS are less than thrilled. And Hardy... (Hardy) Next time, use the elevator... Sheesh. IL just shrugs it off. Hardy shakes his head, and goes to the next track on the CD. Whirrwhirrwhirrrrr... Clickspinnnnn... As soon as "The World Is Not Enough" by Garbage is recognizable, the crowd whips into a frenzy! We can see Leon Sharpe working the crowd, shirt in hand. And faintly, through the cheers... (Sharpe) C'mon, who wants THE shirt? I know someone wants it... Who's it gonna be??? Hardy chuckles, and brings the mike back up. (Hardy) And now, the resident franchise man of the SJL, Leon Sharpe! Having sold the shirt to a young, stunning redhea* (who, much to the dismay of Security and delight of the teenage guys in the crowd, is changing into it right here, right now), Leon jogs into the area with the other fighters, eyeing them up. He can -almost- go eye-to-eye with Janus, and that doesn't seem to faze him. Clickclickclickwhirr... Spinnnnn... Next we have "One Of A Kind" by Breaking Point... The fans are a little confused at this one. (Hardy) Don't worry folks, you haven't heard this one before. It's a newbie... So, from New Haven, Connecticut... 6 foot-3, weighing in at 245 pounds... The... Omega... STORM! The man known as the Omega Storm stalks through the opening in the crowd, seemingly sizing up his competition. He pats the tazer hooked to his belt, and smiles cunningly. The other wrestlers smirk, not caring how coc*y, arrogant, or anything else the new guy is. They see him as cannon fodder, nothing more. The crowd isn't sure what to think, so they kinda cheer, sort of. Clickclickwhirrspinnnnn... Next is "Three Libras" by A Perfect Circle. Again, the crowd's a bit confused. (Hardy) Another new one, folks... Hang on. From Rosslare, Ireland... 6-4, weighing in at 248 pounds... Christian Blackwell! Blackwell walks calmly into the area, measuring up his opposition. Again, a light pop from the crowd, and a less-than-thrilled response from the veterans. The other newbie, Storm, gives Blackwell a slight nod. Clickclick... Whirr... Whirr... BANG! The last sound is the final thing the boombox ever does, as smoke and sparks come spitting out of the machine. The crowd scatters to a slightly safer distance. (Hardy) Well isn't -that- a bitc*... Anyway, I'll just introduce our last contestant... C'mon out here, Cutthroat. The crowd give a nice-sized pop for such a tool of a wrestler, but... We -are- in Texas, after all. There's nothing for a few moments, then... A Security guard walks through the hole in the crowd. (Guard, to Hardy) Excuse me, but there's a man in one of our restrooms... The veterans groan to themselves. The refs cringe. Hardy, to his credit, keeps a straight face. (Guard, continuing) ...He's a bit unnerving. Very strange attire, and he keeps screaming... (Hardy, stopping the guard) Lemme guess... "Cutthroat", right? The guard nods. Hardy sighs. (Hardy) Yes, he's one of ours. We'll get him out soon. Thanks. The guard walks off. Hardy looks at the refs, and they shrug. (Hardy) Well, he's heard the rules before. We'll get him after we explain to everyone here and at home. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the famous SJL Mall Brawl match. The object is to find the golden balloon in the mall, pop it, read the card in the envelope, and get it to a referee for the win. The balloon will start up there... Hardy points up at the Best Buy on the third floor, where the mall manager just released said gold balloon. (Hardy) ...But it can float or be taken just about anywhere. The only rule is to find the balloon, and get the message to a ref. Got it? Everyone nods, crac*s their knuckles, and glares at their competition. (Hardy) Ohhhhh-kay then... I guess if there's no questions... Let's do it! Hardy stupidly whips out a gun, and fires it into the air! The wrestlers and all but one of the refs are off like a bolt, but all the people in the mall are screaming, diving for cover... Security comes up and grabs Hardy by the arms, dragging him for the exits. Hardy looks at Se*ton. (Hardy) Go get Cutthroat, and let him know it's on! And with that, Hardy's 'escorted' out the doors, and into a waiting police car. Se*ton sighs. (Hardcastle) What I do to get into a pay-per-view... He stalks towards the restrooms, entering the door slowly. (Hardcastle) Hey, Cutthroat... The match started... You've gotta move. No response. (Hardcastle) Cutthroat? Where the fuc* are you??? A groan from one of the last stalls. Se*ton approaches cautiously. (Hardcastle) ... Cutthroat? Se*ton notes a puddle under that last stall (Hardcastle) Ewwwww! What the Hell, man? Se*ton opens the stall door, and... Cutthroat pis*es in his eye! (Cutthroat) CUTTHROAT!!! (Hardcastle) Aaugh! Stop it! It burns! ACK! Se*ton backs away, but Cutthroat continues to let loose a stream of pis* all over... The stall, the can, Se* ton, himself... (Hardcastle) Damnit, that's enough! Se*ton charges in, and kicks Cutthroat square in the jimmy. The pis* stops, and Cutthroat starts screaming like a sissy man. Se*ton gets close, and traps Cutthroat in... A knuckle lock! Cutthroat thrashes about, screaming in unbearable anguish. Se*ton cinches the hold, then slips in a puddle of pis*. (Hardcastle) Shi*!!! Se*ton hits the floor with a SPLASH! Cutthroat, the hold broken, takes off with uncanny speed. A few moments later, several security guards come charging. They see Se*ton just starting to stand, dripping in pis*. (Guard) Uh... What happened in here? Someone heard a woman scream... Se*ton just shakes his head angrily, and stalks out of the bathroom. Meanwhile, on the second floor, the duo of Leon Sharpe and Janus are tearing it up. Rapid series of rights and lefts by the big men send people scrambling for cover. Janus gets in under Leon's guard, and super kicks him through a nearby game arcade window! Glass flies everywhere as the slightly smaller man plunges into a semi-darkness beyond. Janus steps forward, ready to follow, but stops when a much smaller, much less muscled man gets in his way. (Dead Meat) Excuse me, sir... But I'm with the survey group located in the mall here. Do you have time to answer some questions? Janus looks down, down, down at the man. He's bookish, wearing miles-thick glasses, a tweed suit, and pennyloafers. Janus tries to step around, but the man steps in the monster's way again. (Really Dea* Meat) Sir, it would just take a few moments. Not wanting to waste time and energy on something that... insignificant... Janus again tries to step around. And the man gets in his way again. (Roadkill) Sir, I can make it well worth your... ULP!!! The man's line is cut off as Janus lifts him by the lapels, a full foot off the ground, to look him dea* in the eye. (Janus) Not... Interested... The scrawny guy gets tossed into a nearby kiosk. Wood and plastic shoot everywhere, and in the middle is the survey man. He lies there for a moment, then sits up, brushing himself off. He looks at the behemoth entering the arcade. (Lucky Man) Certainly, sir! But if you change your mind, please come see me! Inside the arcade, Janus begins stalking his prey, Leon Sharpe. Teens and vid-geeks run for cover at the sight of such a huge man, but Janus stops one of them. The kid gulps, looking up at the big man, probably wetting himself. (Janus) Where is the man that flew threw the window? (Pimply Kid) He... He... He... Shaking helplessly, the kid points towards the Turret Tower game off in the corner. Janus lets the kid go, and moves towards that way. He sees someone inside, and makes a break. He tears open the door to find... (Janus) What's this? What it is is a cardboard cut-out from when Virtua Fighter 4 first debuted... And a quickly-departing Leon Sharpe! Janus turns towards the door, but Sharpe closes the door, and jury-rigs the lock! Janus roars and rattles on the door, but to no avail. Sharpe grins from the other side of the glass. (Sharpe) Lock's level 99, bitc*... And you don't have the smarts for it. (Janus) When I get out of here... (Sharpe, cutting him off) You're going to be puking your guts out, and walking upside down! Get the point? Sharpe walks over to the wall as Janus blows off some steam inside the machine. Sharpe plugs the game in, and watches. Suddenly, all the lights come up in and out of the game. The sound of a motor getting some juice, and... (Janus) YARGH! Sharpe starts laughing as the game reveals why it was unplugged in the first place. Janus is a helpless victim as the 'turret' mechanism of the game starts spinning faster and faster! Janus goes to a knee against the gunner's chair as the game spins madly out of control. (Sharpe, chuckling) Have fun in there, big guy. Sharpe darts out the entrance as the motors in the game finally sputter out in a small burst of sparks and smoke. The machine slowly winds to a stop, and inside, Janus tries to stand. But, even with his abilities, he can't fight off nature and the human anatomy... He pitches forward, and busts right through the glass! And in the shards of colored glass, Janus lies, a groaning wreck... Back on the first floor, the wrestler known as IL is looking in every store for the golden balloon that will give him a shot at stardom... Or, at least, another win under his belt. He sees a crowd of people. (IL) Hmm... Wonder what that is... As he's saying that, a group of young teenage guys come walking by with CDs in their hands. (Teen 1) ...Yeah, I can't believe we got her autograph! (Teen 2, haughtily) Yeah, we only stayed in line for an hour and a half. (Teen 3, excited) But it was worth it... She's so hot! (IL) Hey, who's over there? (Teen 1, looking as he walks) Only the hottest singer to date! (Teen 3) Yeah, it's Avril. (IL, almost hypnotized) Avril... Lavigne? (Teen 1) Yup, the one and only. The kids walk off, and IL just... Stands there. He stands there for a few moments, until the lines thin out enough that he sees... Her. (IL) Oh my... Something snaps in his head. He looks around in desperation, then spies a skateboard left near some lockers. He rushes over to get it, and looks at it for a moment. (IL) It's been a while... But anything for her... A few moments later, up at the front of the line, the crowd has thinned out some... We can see the punkish singer, Avril Lavigne, taking time out to talk to some of her fans. She's smiling, really having a good time, and so are her faithful. A couple of geekish guys come walking by, looking to see what the hub-bub is about, and start snorting and chortling in that geekish kind-of way. (Geek 1) Hey, Miss Lavigne... How's it feel to have a computer virus named after you? The geeks keep laughing as they walk away, and Avril just shakes her head. (Avril, lightly) I can't help that people like me a lot. But I don't condone taking advantage of celebrities like that. The gathered crowd is pleasantly surprised at her, and that just makes her more likable. All the sudden, a commotion sparks up from the back of the line. The security guards start to tighten up around the group, and Avril stands up slowly. (Avril) Anyone know what's going on back there? Before anyone can answer, a young man on a skateboard comes zooming around the crowd, pulling a few crazy tricks, before stopping on the dime about 5 feet from where Avril is standing. Oh God... It's IL. The guards seem ready to pounce on this troublemaker, but Avril holds up a hand. (Avril) Is there something I can do for you? (IL) Yes, there is... IL bends down on a knee. (IL) Marry me! The crowd snickers quietly. Avril, to her credit, is being very civil and calm about it... Probably happens all the time... Maybe. (Avril) Well, I'm flattered... But I don't even know who you are. IL lights up a huge smile. (IL) Avril, dear... I'm your Sk8er Boi! The crowd has a good laugh, and even Avril crac*s a smile. (Random Voice) Hey! Watch out! Everyone turns towards the voice, trying to see what's going on... IL, being a wrestler, has a slightly keener alertness and awareness... And he sees what's about to hit the fan! (IL) Oh man... (Mystery Voice) CUTTHROAT!!! Yes, folks... Cutthroat comes charging full-bore out of the crowd, and... He trips! His stumbling and running carries him right into IL! The momentum is so much that it carries the duo straight back into the ill-placed and unlucky Avril Lavigne. The trio go tumbling back into the backdrop for the autograph session in a mass of limbs and curtains. Everyone seems unhurt. (IL) That was no good... (Cutthroat) CUTTHROAT!!! (Avril) Uhm... Ow. Someone get that curtain rod off my thigh. (IL, with a hint of excitement) That's no curtain rod... (Avril, disgusted) GAH! Avril delivers a swift knee to the 'curtain rod', and IL yelps in man pain, stumbling away from the pile-up. Avril slowly rises to her feet, shaking out the cobwebs, then looks down at Cutthroat. (Avril) And just who are you? Cutthroat looks up at her a moment... (Cutthroat) CUTTHROAT!!! He leaps up, and blows a humungous belch in her face! Avril grapples at her throat, gasping and gagging as Cutthroat takes off in the general direction of IL. (Avril) Ugh...! Chili dogs with garlic and onions... Rotten meat... And... And... Pis*? She finally goes down for the count. So did everyone else within 25 feet of the blast. Back on the second floor now, as we see Leon Sharpe and Janus locked back up... Janus looks somewhat recovered after taking a spin, though he's a bit ied. Sharpe looks... Well... Sharp. A hundred feet or so down the corridor, we see the two newbies, Omega Storm and Christian Blackwell, tusslin' and tanglin'. All of this fighting is cutting a path through the crowd towards the toy store. Janus manages to launch Sharpe into the store through the front door with an Irish Whip... Blackwell, however, is a little more stunning and pulls off a release german suplex on Storm... And puts him right through the plate glass! That sends the crowd inside scattering (though I'm not sure why a 6'10" rumbling mass of muscle whipped through the front door wouldn't do the same...). The cashier looks up, petrified. (Cashier) Hey! You know you can't do that! Blackwell comes through the shattered window, and stares at the cashier. At the same time, Janus walks through the front door, looking for Sharpe. The cashier blinks a few times. (Cashier, quietly) Or... You can do whatever you want, really... He hides under the counter. Blackwell picks Storm back up, and hip tosses him onto one of those roll-out plastic toy keyboards. The noise the combined keypresses make seem to accentuate the grimace on Storm's face. Blackwell doesn't let up, sliding down and locking Storm up in the Triangle Hold... Just looking to wear a combatant down so that it's that much easier later on. Unfortunately Janus, not having found Sharpe right away, decides to take out some mayhe* on someone else, and elbows Blackwell in the head, breaking the hold. Blackwell recovers and looks up at the big man. (Blackwell) One should know when not to interrupt another's work. Janus replies by short-arm clotheslining Blackwell into a basket of video games. (Janus) I interrupt when I want to, little man. Just then, Sharpe launches himself through the air off the cashier's counter, and slams Janus into a pile of squeaky plush toys with a flying clothesline! Sharpe grabs one of the plushes, and starts 'pummeling' Janus. (Sharpe) Say you like teddy bears, damnit! Say you like 'em! Janus either doesn't like them, or doesn't like Sharpe, or both... The monster lances out with a hand, latching onto Sharpe's throat! (Janus) You're... Beginning... To... Annoy... Me... He stands slowly out of the pile of fluff, with Sharpe struggling in his grip. Janus locks the other hand over the first, and lifts up... Could it be? A chokeslam on the floor? Blackwell has something to say about that as he manages to get a high basball slide kick into the back of Janus' knees. The giant buckles, wavers, then falls, bringing Sharpe down with him! The trio is in a pile for a moment, then Sharpe gets to his feet and smiles at the prone form of Blackwell. (Sharpe) Thanks, I owe you one... I'll get you a shirt at 10% off, how's that? Sharpe chuckles, and trots out of the store. Blackwell, meanwhile, slowly extracts himself from under the big man's frame. He looks around for Storm, who's slipped out quietly and conveniently. (Blackwell) Damn... The chase is on once again. And with that, he takes off out of the store. Janus, catching his breath, finally comes to his feet with a roar. (Janus) I'm going to find that man... And when I do... He growls, clenching his fists, and leaves through the shattered window. The cashier, after a few moments of silence, creeps out from under the register. (Cashier, quietly) Thank you, come again. We go to the third floor... We find Omega Storm, walking down the corridors of the mall, peeking in each store, in search of the elusive gold balloon. He stops a janitor on their way to... Who knows where. (Storm) Excuse me, you haven't happened upon a gold-colored balloon, have you? (Janitor, looking up) Uhm... No. Did your child lose it? (Storm, smirking) Yeah, my kid lost it. (Janitor) Well, I'd try the lost and found then, first floor. And the janitor starts on his way. Storm looks about to knock the guy's head clean off, but decides against it. Suddenly, he feels the sensation of thousands of tiny fists banging on his back. He laughs. (Storm) Stop it, that tickles... (Voice From Behind) CUTTHROAT!!! Storm turns around, and... Yes, there stands Cutthroat. His hits on Storm's body slow, then finally stop. The two stare at each other for a moment. (Storm) You have to be kidding... (Cutthroat) CUTTHROAT!!! (Storm, blinking and holding his nose) Jeez! And you smell like pis*, too! What's wrong with you, man??? Cutthroat tries several times in a row to lay backhands on Storm's chest, but... They're about as effective as wet noodles. Storm sighs, then nails Cutthroat with a heart punch! The delusional one hits the ground like a ton of bricks. Storm picks him up by the hair, looking around for a moment. He grins, then starts dragging Cutthroat towards a store. Once inside, the woman looks at the duo with a very confused, slightly freaked expression. (Woman, hesitant) Can... I help you... Gentlemen? (Storm) Yeah, I need a new wardrobe for my friend here. Cutthroat groans softly, unawares. The cameraman backs out of the store, not wanting to be a part of this, but he -does- catch the store's name on the way out: "Victoria's Secret" Meanwhile, on the ground floor, we run into a little scuffle with MVS and IL. The two trade punches, kicks, and verbal barbs as people watch. (MVS) Why the Hell (punch) are you still (punch, block) in the JL anyway? (kick, block, feint) You've been here (punch, duck) forever! (IL) Hey! Maybe (kick, block) I like it here... (punch, kick) It's not like you're (duck, block) on your way up (punch, punch, kick) anytime soon. (MVS) Well... (kick, dodge, punch) I'm better than you! (IL) How do you know? (punch, duck, dodge) You're still here too! The two look at each other for a moment. (MVS) You ever get the feeling that someone was giving you the royal screw job? (IL) Yeah, my whole career. (MVS) Hmm... I've got a plan. (IL) Oh yeah? (MVS) Yeah. Since we're the younger group in the JL, I say we team up and take these older farts on... Show 'em what youth is about! IL ponders this for a moment, then grins. (IL) I like it... Let's win this match, and go right to the top! (MVS) Right! The two take off, but you can hear... (IL) Y'know, I almost got it on with Avril Lavigne today... Suddenly the two stop. (MVS) That's it! I can't team with you now! (IL) Huh...? Before IL can ask anything, MVS nails the poor boy with a spinning wheelkick, and drops him to the deck. MVS runs off, leaving IL laying there. (IL) Damn... No taste in good music. Back to the third floor... Outside Victoria's Secret... And a God-awful sight. Storm is still dragging Cutthroat around, but now... Cutthroat is out of his wrestling attire, and in a very, -very- sheer red bra with hearts and white lace... And a matching set of panties. People are repulsed, and run when they see the pair. Storm drags the helpless Cutthroat around, and punches him in the head when he resists. (Storm) See? It looks good on you, trust me. (Cutthroat, slurred) Cut... Throat... (Storm) Now, a place to show you off... A-ha! Storm looks diagonal from the store to a Western bar (oddly placed, don't you think? So close to the Victoria's Secret...). He grins, and drags Cutthroat that way. When in front, he stands Cutthroat up, and looks at him. (Storm) This is where I let you off. Happy trails, buddy. He back up, and gets ready to let Cutthroat have it with a kick to the jaw, but stops. (Storm) Oh, and Cutthroat? Cutthroat looks up. (Storm) Instead of saying your name all the time, start mooing. It's better ratings. Got it? Cutthroat moos. Storm grins, then lets him have it with a nastily stiff jaw kick. Cutthroat drops to the ground, and Storm immediately follows up with the Unpredictable Weather. He leaves Cutthroat wrapped up as something catches his eye. (Storm) Oh, this could be interesting... He takes off towards a store down the way. Meanwhile, a large, obviously drunk cowboy-type comes stumbling out of the Western bar. He stops, and his jaw drops as he sees Cutthroat in his ie, in a rather helpless position. (Cowboy, words accompanied by the scent of beer) Well lookie here... You're looking mighty fine, little missie. And all bundled up in a package for a nice cow-poke like me... I must be having a lucky day... Tell me, sugar... What's your name? Cutthroat, remembering what Storm had said and seeing the camera on him, moos. The cowboy gets a y look about him, and grins maniacally. (Cowboy) Well... I gotta say that this -is- a real lucky day then! (looking up at the cameraman, who's been trying to back away the whole time) And you got yourself a camera? You're a feisty, little heifer, ain't ya? Well, don't worry... Daddy'll take you all back to his ranch so he can brand ya, and saddle y'all up for a long ride! Yee-haw! Cutthroat is helpless as the cowboy picks him up in one arm, still lock in the submission hold, still mooing. The cameraman (God have mercy on his soul) is plucked up as well, and the camera itself... Mercifully cuts off from the rest of the world. Good luck, boys! Meanwhile, on another camera, we see Mike Van Siclen running towards... Something... But we can't quite make it out. The camera gets into a good position, and we see... A gold balloon!!! Mike could win this sucker! He grabs up the balloon, then looks around. He sees a ref turning the corner down a ways, so he hauls ass towards the ref... (MVS) Hey! Hey! Waitaminute!!! The ref turns... Man, he looks awfully familiar. At any rate, he approaches MVS with a smile. (Referee) Looks like you found it! Good job! He -sounds- vaguely familiar, too... (MVS) Alright, so I have to pop it, open the envelope, and read the card, right? The ref nods, so MVS pops the balloon, and grabs the envelope before it can fall to the ground below. He tears it open, and looks at the card inside. (MVS) Hand this to a ref for your prize... Okay, seems simple enough. MVS reaches out to hand the ticket to the ref... The ref... Grabs his arm hard, and yanks MVS towards him! MVS, filled with pride and tasting the win, can't react as the ref levels him to the ground with a short-arm clothesline! Smoothly, the ref reaches on his belt, and pulls off a pager-looking device. He slams it into MVS' side, and watches in delight as MVS shakes and gyrates... And then goes limp. (Not-So-Ref) Sweet dreams. The 'ref' grins evilly, and slips out of hte costume to reveal... OMEGA STORM! He slips the tazer back to his side, and chuckles. He looks across the way at two stores: The arts and crafts store, and the costume shop. (Storm) I owe you guys! Storm takes off as MVS groans quietly on the floor. Meanwhile, on the ground floor, Sharpe is stalking about, looking for the balloon... He's full of pride, having embarassed the monster, Janus, at nearly every turn they've met. (Sharpe) Damn, I'm go--ULP!!! The sudden cut-off in gloating speech is caused by a pair of massive paws clamped around Sharpe's throat. Those paws are connected to two -huge- arms, and those arms... Connected to one pis*ed-off Janus! (Janus) There you are, little man... Prepared to die yet? Sharpe wriggles and writhes, trying to break free. Janus hauls Sharpe up into a vertical suplex, then turns it into the starts of a Tombstone! Oh, the humanity! Janus holds him there in a herculean show of strength. (Janus, snarling) Any last words? (Sharpe, breathing hard) Yeah... CUP CHECK! Janus doesn't realize what this means until... WHAM! Sharpe slams his free hand into the family jewels of Janus! The big man just buckles, releasing his hold on Sharpe. Leon manages to roll out of the way just barely before getting crushed by a 350 pound falling sack of meat. Sharpe catches his wind, and kicks the big man in the side. (Sharpe) Guess you weren't wearing one. He takes off just as Janus bellows like Hell itself opened up, and stands slowly. All of the sudden, there's chaos and mayhe* abounding all over the mall... The balloon (the real one this time) has been sighted, and six SJL superstars are Hell-bent on being the first one to get it! The balloon, unawares that it's causing so much of a commotion, floats merrily along on the second floor, near the sportswear store. Omega Storm and Chris Blackwell are the first to be anywhere close, jockeying for position as they run down one hall. Janus and Leon Sharpe approach from another direction, stopping every 5 feet to blast each other in the face with repeated punches. MVS and IL come from a third lane, MVS just trying to avoid IL for even thinking Avril Lavigne was something worth while. The 6 superstars are almost to the storefront when... POP!!! The half-dozen men look at each other with an unbelieving look, then step in front of the store's main door. There's a ceiling fan... And on that ceiling fan, there are pieces of gold balloon, along with pieces of gold balloon strewn all over the store. Se*ton leads the troupe of referees to the storefront, and gaze dismayingly upon the scene. (Hardcastle) Well ain't that just a bitc*... The 6 superstars look at Se*ton, then take off into the store, ready to tear, rend, and destroy to get the envelope. The cashiers and workers wisely don't say a word, and get the Hell out of the way as clothes, people, and clothesracks go flying throughout the store. IL climbs to the top of one of the upright racks, getting a bit better view of the chaos below. He spies a likely victim... Omega Storm, who is bent over, looking under some fallen clothes for the envelope. IL leaps down, planting a leg in the small of Storm's back. The two tumble into the shirts, and start pounding on each other with rights and lefts. Elsewhere, Janus is eyeing a clothing rack when Sharpe plants a tons-sizes-too-small Yankees jersey over Janus' head (it wouldn't fit much past his shoulders)! Janus roars and bellows like a bull stuck with a sword, and goes careening into clothesracks, and... Unfortunately for him, Mike Van Siclen. MVS gets completely run over, but not before MVS takes the giant down with a drop toe hold. Janus can't quite catch himself, as his arms are half-pinned by the shirt, and MVS jumps on his back, wailing the Hell out of the back of his head. The big man bellows, and MVS bails ship before Janus rips the jersey (A Derek Jeter one... Oh damn) completely apart. Christian Blackwell and Sharpe enter the picture now, locked up and trying to gain leverage through piles of hats and the like. The wrestlers seem to draw closer and closer to each other in their little in-fighting until there's 5 on them fighting each other within about a foot and a half space. Waitaminute... Just 5? Who's missing? Wait... There's someone coming out from underneatn a pile of batting practice jackets, or something... It's Omega Storm! And he's got the envelope!!! The other 5 combatants look and see what's transpiring, and leap down on the newbie, Storm. There's fists thrown, kicks, shoving, biting... Poor Storm is at the bottom of the pile, more or less stuck. Out of the pile, the envelope floats out, but no one seems aware. After a few moments, the fighting slows to something tolerable, with all 5 men standing. They look around for a moment. (MVS) Where's the envelope? (IL, pointing to Storm) He had it last. (Storm, showing his hands) Not anymore. Everyone looks around for a moment, then spies... (Sharpe, pointing) There! (Blackwell) It's mine! (IL) Not if I get there first! The 6 men jump for the same spot, which the laws of physics counteract with interesting results. IL and MVS bounce harmlessly off of Janus' sprawled frame, and end up to the side. That, combined with the fact that Sharpe jumped -on- Janus, prevent Janus from getting full spring, and he falls short. Blackwell pulls himself short as MVS crosses his path. Storm jumped for Janus' feet, seeing that he needed to stop the tallest body from getting there. But, with Janus stopping, Storm winds up going -over- Janus and Sharpe, and... Impacting the wall! He's the first one to realize where he ended up, though, and grabs the envelope... Again! The other 5 try to scramble to their feet, but Storm is already beating a path for the door. IL and MVS are easily the fastest, and catch up to Storm just before he makes it to the threshold. The pair each grab a leg, and bring the envelope-holder down! Storm tries to kick the two away, but they cling tenaciously. Storm reaches down with a free hand, unclipping the tazer from his side. In a fluid motion, he jams it into MVS' arm! (MVS) Damnit, not again... OWWWWW!!! MVS grabs his arm and rolls away, leaving only IL left. Storm tries to tazer him too, but IL moves himself out of the way, while still hanging on. (Storm) Damnit, you little bug... Let go! (IL) That card is my ticket to stardom, bitc*! I'm not going to let some newbie steal my glory! As IL makes his move to grab the envelope, Storm brings up a knee into IL's manhood! (IL) AAUGH!!! Not again! IL crumples back, and Storm runs for the doorway! Janus, Sharpe, and Blackwell not far behind, Storm reaches down, and hits a switch on the wall by the doorway as he dives for the outside of the store... *ClinkclinkclinkclinkSLAM!* The iron security gate drops down! Janus slams into it at full bore, bending it out, but it stays. Sharpe crashes into Janus' back, and Blackwell hits as well. All three go down in a pile as Storm raises his hand in victory! Matthew Kivell comes over as Storm tears the envelope open. The 5 other combatants do their best to bust down the security gate, but no luck, thanks to a strong agnetic seal at the bottom. Storm triumphantly pulls out the ticket inside the envelope, and reads it for the world to hear: (Storm) "Sorry! This ticket is not an instant... Winner... Please... Try again?" He looks at Kivell, and just about pulls the man out of his skin as he lifts him up by the lapels. (Storm) I went through all that... For THIS??? Kivell shakes his head. (Kivell) No, no, no... You're the winner, you're the winner of the match! Storm lets him down slowly, then nods. (Storm) Well... You gonna raise my hand in victory, or what? Kivell looks a little relieved as he comes over and brings Storm's arm up as the victor. Storm revels in it for a moment, then... He grabs Kivell, taking him up at a 90 degree angle! Storms falls forward, but releases his hold on Kivell. The ref / dark match jobber screams as he's sent flying over the second floor guardrail after a beautiful release, reverse, fallaway slam. Down he sails like a two-winged lawn dart, and... SPLOOSH!!! Kivell belly-flops hard into the fountain below! Storm brushes his hands against each other, then smiles into the camera. (Storm) Random violenc*. Good ratings booster. Back to the arena. -----(Transition)----- The fans are in an absolute fever after this hellacious match. Axis and King are stunned. (Axis) This match... This match was... (King, suddenly very animate and excited) It was the absolute best ever! I've never seen anything like it! The carnage, the trickery! The absolute, sheer random chaos of it all! Gawd, I love it!!! The sheer, random...!!! King suddenly spins around, and leaps into the crowd... And tackles an unsuspecting David Carr (he should be suspecting these kind of things, after the year he had)! At the corner of the screen, a box pops up: "David Carr, Houston Texans - Career Sacks: 77" Next to the "77", a "+1" pops up. Axis sighs softly as the med-techs tend to Carr. King is bounding up and down the aisles, like a kid on a sugar high. (Axis) We'll be right back with the Tag Team Tables Match after this message... -----(Fade to black)-----

(Laughs hard) Oh God... That's why I didn't remember Fury being in a Mall Brawl... He never was! Well... Technically... But... Let's just put it this way... That Omega Storm guy could've being 0wning j0000z!!!!111!!11!!1 EDIT: Hey, if anyone has a losing matches archive for that one... I'd love to get that match. I need inspiration. EDIT 2: Might have just found it... Nevermind.

Hell... I remember being an Op for a short spell. Was kinda cool.

Oy, oy, oy... Technicalities! This is Hollywood after all! (Snickers) Anyway, I just thought up another one... Hey Thugg! I know you're all about Warren Sapp portraying you, but try these three words on for size: Michael Clarke Duncan (EDIT: Yeah, I know Sean called MCD already, but I don't know what he looks like... And I still remember what Thugg was suppose to look like... So... Yeah.)

Uhm... Ouch? (Sigh) But hey, your opinion is your opinion, and who am I to say anything. ... But, I guess I mark out for my hometown girl though. Halle Berry, I mean. She's from Cleveland, y'know. But anyway... Yeah.

(Listens to the microphone resonate static and feedback, causing not only his monitor to shatter, but his head to explode)

Heh... Here's one for you old-timers... How about Halle Berry as Mistress Sarah?

Bumpage. For one more hour only... SEE!!! A legend... ... Or not.

JCThomeFan25 here. Not like it matters much. Heh.

Other than the fact I'm back? Well, can't write much... Yet. I'll be doing a lot of writing one of these days. Mwahahahaha... (Cough cough cough hack wheeze!) Damn this old age thing. Anyway... Yeah... If you don't know who this is, ask the older-timers. They'll tell you. (Nod) That is all.