SJL Metal - July 11, 2002

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

SJL METAL - July 11, 2002

 

Card:

 

No Show And Leave The JL FOREVER Match

Jacob Helmsley vs. Flexxx

- Twochronic no showers, two who should have been in the WF a year ago, face each other in what will be a tough slog. Apparently Flexxx is going to no show already, but such is life. No show this guys, and find a new e-fed.

 

European/TV Titles Two Falls Match

"The Franchise" Mak Francis © © vs. T-Bone vs. Thor vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

- The 1st fall is for the TV title, the 2nd fall is for the European title. Francis has pretty much beaten all comers since joining the SJL - now for his toughest task yet. T-Bone, Jenkins and Thor both are proving to be quite a force since coming back/joining the SJL, and get their chance to shine here. Francis might want to drop one, perhaps two of his belts. Maybe. Hint.

 

Serect Hardcore Match

??? vs. ???

- Two question mark people - and who they are might shock you...

 

Rock Em, Sock Em Robots Match

HVille Thugg vs. Suicide King

- Two former SWF champions will don the official SWF boxing puppet things, which were made in their image, at the announce table in order to decide who will post Metal and make the next Wrath card! The pressures on here.

 

WORLD TITLE TOURNAMENT

 

Semi Final 1

Fugue vs. CIA

- Fugue ended up getting a match in, so meh.

 

Semi Final 2

Silent vs. Renegade

- Two vets collide - the winner here will surely be the favourite to become the next SJL champion.

 

And away we go!

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Jacob Helmsley vs. Flunkmasta Flexxx

 

Scratch two names from the roster tonight.

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Axis: Our next match certainly promises to bring the house down. We have the reigning TV and European Champion facing the steak sauce covered bastard T-Bone, the God of Thunder Thor, and the dazed and confused “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins.

 

Edwin: Also this match will be a two-title, two-fall match. Wowee! This match should be fun! Fun! FUN!!

 

King: Bah, its going to suck. Four wrestlers in the ring at once is confusing as hell. People running everywhere, pinfalls being scored behind your back, uugghh its going to be painful to watch.

 

Axis: Painful to be in you mean, we have some legitimately tough hombres in this match up. Lets go to Funyon!

 

King: Must we?

 

Funyon, already in the ring, has on what must surely be one of his prized suits. Solid white polyester, shirt undone to the middle of his chest, gold chains, and stylish bell bottoms. He raises the mic in preparation of the arduous task of announcing the upcoming match. “Our next match is a two title, two fall match. Which means the first fall will be for the TV title, and the second fall is for the European title. Introducing first, the double champion, ‘The Franchise’ MAK FRRAAAANNCISSSSS!!”

 

The lights vanish and “Down With The Sickness” by Disturbed begins to play. A digitized voice repeats the words flashing on the SmarkTron “Are you Ready?”. Blue and white strobe lights illuminate the stage accompanied by a blue and white photo-negative of Mak as the voice repeats again “Are you ready?”. Now the digital voice screams “Cause ‘The Franchise’ is here!” and the words “THE FRANCHISE” appears on the SmarkTron The lead singer begins to scream and “The Franchise” himself steps out of the curtain along side Tyler Kinkel. Francis has his newly won European championship around his waist and the TV title over his shoulder. He walks down to the ring, accompanied by boos, drawn from the crowd over the disgust of the success of the devious double champion. Both he and Kinkel have enormous grins on their mugs as they step into the ring, therein Mak holds up both of his belts for the crowd to see and loath.

 

Funyon speaks again “And introducing one of his three challengers, T-BOOOONNE!!”

 

The lights dim and a loud bell is heard, not tolling the time, or the loss of a loved one, but signaling the entrance of the steak sauce covered bastard. The SmarkTron shows various maneuvers and accomplishments of T-Bone, including winning the TV title. The lights flash as AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells” surges on and T-Bone walks out from the back to the delight of the crowd. He struts down to the ring, displaying his obvious self-confidence. He reaches the ring, alongside the applause of the crowd for this bad ass babyface. He steps up onto the apron and reaches into his leather jacket and removes, what else, but the legendary bottle of A-1 steak sauce. He takes a quick swig and tosses the bottle to the crowd, causing fans to scurry for this prized piece of SJL merchandise. T-Bone leans back and spits the tangy fluid high into the air. He then smiles and shows the crowd his steak sauce covered teeth. He removes his leather jacket and stands in his respective corner.

 

Funyon speaks once again, perhaps getting annoyed with announcing so many people “And next, he is the Norse God of Thunder... THOOOORRR!!”

 

Once more the lights turn off and the opening of KISS “God of Thunder” are heard. Immediately the crowd cheers with both glee and anxiousness as a lone, blue spotlight shines on the ramp and a lightning bolt crashes to the stage entrance with an earsplitting crack. The music starts driving and smoke fills the stage, emitting from the striking place of the lightning. The lyrics start and blue and white pyros shoot off, crossing each other, as the God of Thunder Thor steps through the curtain and the crowd increases their adulation to shocking levels. Thor strides down the ramp, and though focused on the task at hand, still takes the time to high five some young Thor fans on his way to the ring. He stops at the bottom of the ramp and points to Francis as the cheers increase even louder. Thor then motions that Mak’s gold will soon be his. He steps up to the apron and glides easily over the top rope. He removes his cape and hands his cape and hammer to an official outside the ring. He stands in his corner with his arms folded.

 

Once again Funyon pipes up, thinking he should get overtime for so many people to announce “And the last challenger... ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIKE JENKIIIINNSS!!” Multi-colored lights begin to flash and bathe the arena in light. “Peace Not Greed” by Kottonmouth Kings begins to play and everyone in the arena gets ready to have a good time as “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins steps through the curtains. The crowd gives a warm reception to the newcomer with a big chance. He gets on the stage and does a bit of posing for the fans, who resound applause with every pose he makes. He then dashes down the ramp and slides into the ring and quickly leaps to the second turnbuckle and stands arms up for the crowd. He then hops back down and all four men, not waiting another second to fight, charge at each other in the center of the ring.

 

King: Damn that took a long time. Next time they better be waiting in the ring, ready for the match. Make a note of that! *the Suicide King shouts that last statement to a small Mexican boy at his side, who stands with pen and paper in hand*

 

Edwin: AAHH! Where’d he come from?

 

King: I picked him up at the last show. He works for next to nothing so I hired him to take notes for me.

 

Axis: Ok... meanwhile in the ring!

 

The four combatants throw random lefts and rights at anything that happens to be moving in front of them as someone actually decides to let the match begin. (Note: Areas of text beginning with an asterisk (*) are set to represent action occurring at the same time as the previous action ’cause the match is really hard to write and probably just as hard to read)

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

It is a huddled mass of humanity in the ring as the four men finally break off into fighting pairs. Thor and Mak are fighting it out and T-Bone is showing extreme cruelty to Jenkins. Mak throws a big haymaker but Thor ducks it and tosses Francis into the turnbuckle by his head. Thor then grabs Mak’s head with his baseball mitt hands and rams his head into the turnbuckle as the crowd counts along.

 

ONE!!

 

TWO!!

 

THREE!!

 

FOUR!!

 

FIVE!!

 

SIX!!

 

SEVEN!!

 

EIGHT!!

 

NINE!!

 

Thor waits, looks around at the crowd and then lifts Mak up, Gorilla Press style and drops his head on the turnbuckle. The crowd cheers, but on the other side of the ring T-Bone has Spike on dream street and executes his patented T-Bone suplex with perfection. T-Bone goes for the cover.

 

1

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2

 

The count is broken up by Thor and an axe handle smash to the back. T-Bone punches Thor, but Thor barely flinches and punches back, knocking T-Bone to the mat. Thor bounds off the opposite ropes, but Mak Francis counters it by hitting a dropkick from the side, knocking Thor off his feet. Mak rushes to T-Bone and starts to put the boots to the veteran, but meanwhile Jenkins has climbed to the top turnbuckle and leaps off onto the standing Mak with a hurrincanrana, spinning Francis to the mat and ushering a nice pop from the crowd. Jenkins stands with arms up, showboating for the crowd, but his celebration is short lived as the Thunder God catches Jenkins when he turns with a hand wrapped around his throat. Thor lifts his opponent up and brings him down hard, all with one hand, with a chokeslam.

 

Axis: Top rope hurrincanrana by Jenkins to the duel champion, Francis. Jenkins is showing plenty of potential lately and has certainly earned this shot at the TV and Euro titles.

 

Edwin: For a man who smokes so much grass that he has to get his lungs mowed once a month, he is doing quite well.

 

King: Mak is still my pick for the winner and still double champion.

 

The crowd cheers for Thor’s chokeslam, but Thor’s enthusiasm is abruptly cut off by a low blow from T-Bone. Thor holds his manhood in pain as T-Bone takes the initiative, spins around, and catches Thor with a Roaring Elbow staggering the big man back. T-Bone bounces off the ropes, but as he runs forward he is caught by “The Franchise” with a super kick, knocking T-Bone into the ropes. Thor has regained his bearings and charges forward at Francis, knocking him over violently with a clothesline.

 

Jenkins bounces off the ropes behind Thor and leaps onto his back and Thor barely notices the 220 lb insect on his back. He is made aware by several shots to the head of the Thunder God and Thor counters by dropping on his back, with all of his 345 lbs crushing “Hollywood”. Thor stands but T-Bone makes a dive at Thor’s legs, pulling them out from beneath him, causing him to fall backwards once again onto Spike. T-Bone then leans forward and starts to drill Thor with several stiff rights to the head. T-Bone then grabs Thor’s deep red hair and signals for the last big shot, but Thor springs to life and wraps his paws around T-Bone’s throat. Thor stands, still holding onto T-Bone and delivers a huge Divine Hammer, the crowd cheers violently.

 

Axis: Thor showing that size really does matter, well at least in this match up.

 

King: He just got a few lucky shots in, Mak will pick this up with ease.

 

Edwin: Whoever said “Size doesn’t matter.” obviously doesn’t get many dates... isn’t that right Axis?

 

Axis: I hear that... HEY!!

 

Thor lays an arm across the heaving chest of T-Bone for a cover.

 

1

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2

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Mak Francis breaks the count at two and a half with a vicious boot to the head of Thor. Francis helps Thor to his feet by his hair and Thor catches him with a right hand to the breadbasket. “The Franchise” stumbles but catches himself, while at the same time, Spike charges at the God of Thunder but gets an elbow to the face for his efforts. Thor grabs both Jenkins and Francis by the head and conks their heads together as the crowd both winces and cheers at the same time. Thor stands amidst the bodies and holds his arm up for the crowd, but T-Bone rises and takes Thor down with a clothesline. Jenkins stands up, more dazed than usual, and wanders into the wrong part of town... into the waiting arms of T-Bone, who delivers an overhead belly-to-belly suplex, punishing the back of the stoner. T-Bone turns around, only to be caught by a boot from Mak and then a DDT. Thor gets to his feet slowly and then, almost instinctively, hits a European uppercut sending Francis flying up and back, falling into the turnbuckle. Thor gets fully up and hears yelling, its Jenkins, and Thor sees where Jenkins is coming from. Quickly Thor drops to his hands and knees and “Hollywood” runs forward, springboards off of the back of the Thunder God and nails Mak with an elevated leg drop.

 

Axis: What a double team maneuver by Jenkins and Thor! Springboard off Thor’s back and into an elevated leg drop.

 

Edwin: Perhaps it is best to do a little double teaming on Mak. Thor might be seven foot and three hundred and forty five pounds, but he has yet to win a title... Mak has TWO!!

 

King: That’s cheating dammit! You aren’t supposed to team up against someone, its every man for himself!

 

Axis: Well you cant argue with the results.

 

Mak falls to the mat as Thor and Jenkins stand. They walk to the center of the ring, stare into each others eyes, and give each other a high five, much to the vocalized approval of the crowd. Now T-Bone is up and has ascended the turnbuckles causing the crowd to buzz. When Thor turns around, T-Bone leaps off onto Thor, but Thor catches the two hundred and seventy five pound wrestler! Thor rushes forward with T-Bone in arms, and like a freight train, smashes T-Bone between his three hundred and forty five pounds and the turnbuckle. The crowd is getting pumped and so is Thor. He looks down at T-Bones twitching body and then turns around, only to get clocked by a kidney punch and a side Russian leg sweep by Francis. Francis goes for the cover.

 

1

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2

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Jenkins pulls Mak’s leg breaking the cover. Mak gets up rather quickly and throws a stiff left jab to his face, staggering Jenkins long enough for Mak to lift him up into brainbuster position as Francis hooks the leg and drives Spike to the mat with the Franchise Tag. Mak cockily goes for the cover.

 

1

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2

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While all this is happening T-Bone and Thor exchange blows and Thor throws a clothesline, almost decapitating the steak sauce covered bastard. When Thor sees the cover made by Mak, he moves quickly and delivers a boot to the head of Francis. Thor picks Francis up and tucks his head between his legs. Thor elevates Mak high in the air and brings him back down hard, releasing him at least two feet from the mat for maximum impact. The crowd explodes as Thor makes the cover.

 

1

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2

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3

 

DING! DING!

 

Thor picks up the TV title! T-Bone is too late in delivering a boot to the head of Thor, knocking him off Mak, but Thor has won the TV title.

 

Axis: THOR HITS THE GRUESOME POWERBOMB ON MAK TO SCORE THE TV TITLE!!! You know what that means!

 

Edwin: We all get to go home?!?!

 

Axis: NO!

 

King: Umm... we all get to go home?

 

Axis: No. It means that the next fall is for the European title. Former JL’er Frost once coveted that belt and went down for the three count to Mak Francis.

 

Thor probably isn’t aware that he won anything as his mind is surely being joggled by heavy boots courtesy of T-Bone. Jenkins charges over and knocks T-Bone off the Thunder God and the two exchange lefts and rights. Mak Francis is know up and is incensed. He goes over to the body of Thor and kneels down and starts to brutalize his face with about six firm rights. Jenkins goes for a kick, but T-Bone is smarter than that, he grabs the foot but Jenkins counters T-Bone’s counter with an enziguri, kicking T-Bone in the back of the head. Jenkins gets to his feet and runs to Mak who is now a wild-eyed maniac hitting anything that comes near him. Francis looks up and sees Jenkins’ approach and hits him with a kick to the gut and then hits a vicious snap suplex on Jenkins. T-Bone gets up and charges at the standing Mak, but Francis also catches T-Bone with a kick to the gut and a snap suplex. Thor gets up and Francis turns around and throws a haymaker at him, but Thor sees it and ducks under and gives a forearm to the back of Mak and then elevates him high in the air with a hanging vertical suplex. Thor holds him and turns around for all the crowd to see, but unfortunately T-Bone also sees it and kicks the leg out from underneath Thor, causing both Mak and Thor to fall to the mat. Thor is the first to get up and moves towards T-Bone, but Spike has also reached his feet and charges at Thor from behind with a bulldog, taking him face first to the mat. T-Bone has seen enough and swings at Jenkins who ducks under and fights from underneath with several shots to the abdomen of T-Bone. Then Jenkins executes a super kick and then hits a DDT before T-Bone has any time at all to recover. The crowd cheers loudly as “Hollywood” arises, but his pop is cut short by a back clothesline from Mak Francis. Thor also begins to stand, but Mak takes him down with a textbook dropkick. Mak stands in the middle of the ring with his arms up and a flood of heat is dumped upon Francis, who has taken everyone else down.

 

King: Oh yeah! Mak’s the man! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! *does the Arsineo Hall thing*

 

Axis: Mak is the defending champion but no matter how many outdated talk show phrases you do, the fact remains that he still dropped the TV title.

 

Edwin: Yes the Thunder God finally got past “The Franchise”. Lets see if anyone else can step up to the plate and score the European or will Mak retain?

 

Mak gets through with his heat gathering and walks to the ropes to talk to Tyler Kinkel. Kinkel has a smile on his face as he dispenses advice to his prodigy, but that look soon turns to fear as he points behind Mak and Mak turns around a second too late, T-Bone has risen and clotheslined Mak over the top rope hitting the floor as Kinkel scurries out of the way. T-Bone steps to the outside and is battling with Mak. T-Bone takes advantage of Mak’s dazed state and whips him into the steel steps, sending Mak crashing firmly into them. The referee is not administering a count however as Thor and Spike are doing battle in the ring.

 

Tyler Kinkel, not wanting to see his boy in trouble, grabs a steel chair from ringside and nails T-Bone in the back with it with everything he has. Unfortunately Kinkel is a weakling so the shot barely phases T-Bone, it does piss him off however as Kinkel drops the chair and runs for his life away from the steak sauce covered bastard and T-Bone gives chase, causing the crowd to pop like crazy. Kinkel rounds the third corner and Mak’s master plan comes into focus. Mak springs up from behind the steps and throws a chair at T-Bone. T-Bone catches it, but unbeknownst to him, Mak has a second chair ready. T-Bone catches the chair but holds it in front of his face as Mak quickly grabs the other chair and smashes him in the face with it. A disgusting crack echoes throughout the arena and Mak stands arms out with the fans booing like crazy at this despicable heel. T-Bone lies on the floor a bloodied mess.

 

* Meanwhile in the ring Thor has gotten to his feet as has Spike. Jenkins rears back and punches Thor in the chest, Thor looks down at his chest and then looks back at Spike. Spike is more than a little concerned as he rears back and punches Thor once again with all the strength in his body. Thor just smiles and whips Jenkins into the turnbuckle with little difficulty. Thor follows Spike straightaway with a splash in the corner. Then Thor stops and the crowd knows what is coming, they begin to buzz. Thor puts Jenkins’ arms over the ropes and chops him across the chest with a sickening crack. The crowd yells their standard “WHOOO!!”. The behemoth brings his hand back again across his opponents chest with another crack. The fans “WHOOO!!” at the methodical carnage in the ring, as Thor once again cracks the sternum of “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins spawning another “WHOOO!!” from the troglodytes.

 

Axis: The sadistic Mak Francis smashing T-Bone’s face with a steel chair. I don’t know how much longer T-Bone will be good to go in this match.

 

Edwin: The Boner took some serious punishment from our wicked sWo double champion Mak Francis. And speaking of the sWo, what is their future? With Poisyn and Flexxx leaving, it leaves only Mak and Y2K who is on a bit of a losing streak.

 

King: Oh pisshaw, the sWo is as strong as ever! Even with only two members they are the strongest stable in the SJL.

 

Axis: That’s because they are the only active stable!

 

By this time Mak Francis has rolled into the ring. He delivers a thumb to the eyes of Thor as he turns around and Mak goes right behind him and hooks on the Million Dollar Exemption! Francis is wrenching away as Thor’s face turns reddish purplish, but Jenkins has somehow slipped away unnoticed and has ascended a nearby turnbuckle. Spike leaps off but Mak hears the crowd roar as Spike soars so he turns, still holding onto Thor, causing Spike to dropkick Thor. Mak only stumbles back, taking no damage and leans on the turnbuckle, he goes to charge at Jenkins when he turns, but he is tripped. The culprit is a very disoriented and bloody T-Bone. The crowd cheers wildly as T-Bone tries to get back in the ring but Mak is not going to allow it as he kicks T-Bone as he’s on the ring apron, Mak then grabs T-Bone’s bloody head and falls down on his rump, still holding the head, causing T-Bone to springboard off the ropes and fly backwards back to the floor.

 

Thor gets back to his feet and you could say he’s got a gold rush as he runs right through Jenkins with a clothesline and runs to Mak Francis and starts to hammer down big forearms to the back of “The Franchise”. The seven foot monster then whips Mak into the ropes and upon his return, catches him with a big boot to the face, knocking Francis out cold. Thor then stops, standing almost motionless in the middle of the ring. He looks to the fallen body of Francis, his placement couldn’t be more perfect. Thor then looks up at the crowd and they realize what Thor is going to do as he points to the opposite turnbuckle. The crowd pops and they only grow louder as Thor moves towards the corner and louder still when he ascends the turnbuckles. He turns around and leaps off, but he catches nothing but canvas as the Crack of Thunder attempt was missed when Mak Francis rolls out of the way with expert timing. Mak stands with a cool and confident look on his face which is quickly removed by a rolling front dropkick executed by a patiently waiting Spike Jenkins. Jenkins goes for the cover.

 

1

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2

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Thor breaks up the count with a forearm to the back of HSJ.

 

Edwin: Wowee! The Crack of Thunder elbow drop missed and a swanky rolling front dropkick by “Hollywood”.

 

Axis: The referee is too distracted by the fast paced action in the ring to really count T-Bone out. I know I’d hate to be officiating this match.

 

King: Axis, you are too big to be a ref, there is a weight limit you know.

 

Axis despondently: Yes... I know...

 

Thor stands, followed by Jenkins. Spike bounces off the ropes and comes back at Thor with a horizontal press, but Thor catches him and then elevates him high into the air with a fall away slam. Thor stands and walks over to Mak Francis, who is know on his knees, struggling to get up. Before he can reach him however an angry, bloody T-Bone charges at Thor with a stiff right hand, staggering him back and then he hits a dizzy Spike with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex, taking Jenkins out for the time being and then he goes to Thor and whips him into the ropes and remarkably comes back with a backdrop suplex except he drops Thor on his head!

 

All the announcers: DANGEROUS BACKDROPPAH!!

 

The crowd is in shock and happiness in seeing T-Bone actually lift the big man, using his own momentum, into the backdrop suplex. The crowd is on their feet chanting “T-BONE!! T-BONE!!” T-Bone is fired up and he the crowd can feel his intensity as he now goes for Mak. Francis stands up as T-Bone is slapping his hands on the mat and saying “C’MON YA SON OF A BITCH!!” As Mak gets his bearings, T-Bone helps him lose them again as he drills his with rights and lefts staggering him. T-Bone then tucks “The Franchise” head between his legs, lifts him up high and brings him down hard with a Thunder Fire Powerbomb. The crowd roars their approval and on the other side of the ring both other competitors are down after being punished by the steak sauce covered bastard T-Bone. Mak then slowly get to his knees and throws several punches to the abdomen of T-Bone, finally culminating in Francis hitting a release German suplex out of desperation. Mak thinks that put T-Bone down but the fans know otherwise. T-Bone got right back up from the suplex and runs over toward Mak, T-Bone physically spins Mak around, kicks him in the gut, tucks his head between his legs, hooks his arms and the crowd goes completely nuts at the sight. T-Bone then completes the move by flipping Mak up onto his shoulders then bringing him back down to the mat. The crowd explodes when T-Bone lands the Tiger Driver ’91 into a pin and they go berserk when the ref counts the pin.

 

1

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3

 

T-Bone does it! T-Bone picks up the European title with the Tiger Driver ’91. The crowd is on their feet for one of the damndest matches they’ve seen in a while. AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells” begins to play and Funyon steps into the ring to do his last bit of announcing for this match. “Here are your winners, the NEW Television Champion THOOOOORRR!!” The crowd is ecstatic and every fan is on their feet “And the NEW European Champion... T-BOOOOOONNEE” The crowd is roaring with cheers and the referee hands each man their respective belt. A dazed Thor is on his feet, but regains his senses when his new TV title belt is handed to him, he holds the belt up in the air accompanied by a still bloodied T-Bone who does the same. They stand side by side when suddenly Spike Jenkins gets to his feet amid the torrent of noise and walks in front of the two champions. The crowd grows a bit nervous as to what will happen between these three competitors. Spike is apparently talking some trash to the two men, but he then shows his good sportsmanship and walks between them and raises their arms in victory. The crowd goes wild, every fan is cheering and on their feet as suddenly Mak Francis is behind them wielding a steel chair. He knocks T-Bone down and swings for Thor but Thor counters it with a big boot to the chair, knocking it back in Mak’s face. Suddenly “The Rising Sun” Y2K emerges from the crowd brandishing a steel chair as well. He lays out Thor and then Jenkins with two vicious shots to the head. Both sWo members then take their chairs and pound the lying competitors.

 

Axis: Well T-Bone picks up the European title, but I don’t think their wins are of any concern to them now seeing as they are laid out by the sWo.

 

Edwin: What the hell is Y2K doing here, I didn’t book him!

 

King: HA HA!! That’s what I like to see! Camaraderie between stablemates. They must have had this planned out for a while. Good show boys!!

 

Mak Francis demands a mic from ringside and begins to speak. He is out of breath and is breathing hard. “Hehe, well you both managed to put me down tonight. That took some effort, I gotta give you your props. But it looks like we get the last word tonight. You see, you too may have beaten me, but in a way you two suckers did me a hell of a favor. See those two well earned titles were holding me down more than MacPhisto ever did. Just like Frost and his single minded quest for the European title, my two little babies were just holding me down.”

 

He pauses to catch his breath.

 

“So now its only up! Up! UP!! For “The Franchise” and for the sWo. True my home boys Poisyn and Flexxx might be gone, but me and Y2K are still here, and we are still gonna dominate. I guess without the Euro and TV I’m as free as a bird. Free to face the winner of the tourney for the title. Be it C.I.A., Fugue, Renegade, or Silent, the winner of that match will be just another passenger to get his ticket punched at Concussion Junction.” He hands the mic to his stablemate Y2K amidst a horrendous onslaught of boos. “What we have here is just another example of why myself and ‘The Franchise’ are too good for the Junior League. We need to be bumped up but with MacPhisto keeping us held down, we have to clear a path through the roster until the only ones that are able to compete are the... s... W... o...” With that statement “Ashes in The Fall” by Rage Against The Machine begins to play and Chris Wilson is seen standing on the entrance ramp clapping his hands slowly... methodically... the sWo members raise their hands in tribute to their mentor.

 

Axis: A disgusting show of respect being shown by the sWo to the vile Chris Wilson.

 

King: AH HAH!! The sWo once again remains triumphant under the supreme tutelage of Chris Wilson. Poisyn and Flexxx may have left, but I think the sWo is just getting started!

 

Edwin: Those bastards wont get away with this! Go to commercial!

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

(The camera whirls back into the Texas back into the Really Cool and Rad Arena where signs of “WE WANT G0R0!” and “WE’LL MISS YOU POISYN!” are spotted. The camera then shows a few women wearing black tank tops and it goes for a bird-eye’s view but decides he doesn’t want to get fired. It soon settles down to the announcer table where Edwin is on the far right a huge grin on his face, while Axis sits in the middle nagging the commissioner about something. Meanwhile, SK imitates Axis like a child. Edwin sees the red light glowing and he slaps Axis on the arm lightly and King takes the hint also).

 

“WEELLLCOME BACK! HUZZAH! I’ve got a treat for you, the loyal fans!” Edwin says and out of his wacky red leather vest he pulls out a kazoo and quickly plays it like a trumpet when the King arrives in the courtyard.

 

”I got a call from a certain someone today, he’s back and he’s ready to fight. Now of course here’s the problem; I have no clue as to who left the message. Someone wanted to shock some fans…”

 

“Much like Nekura shocked you.” SK says with a smirk.

 

Edwin no-sells the comment like a punch from Kivell and he continues, “So now I say to whoever left it… you have your chance to come out, show yourself AND find out who your facing today! HUZZAH!”

 

“PleasebeFurypleasebeFurypleasebeFury…” SK whispers.

 

 

 

 

Silence.

 

 

 

 

 

“I AM CYYYYCLLOOONNEE COOOOOOMMMMEEETTTT!”

 

 

Explosion. The camera quickly zooms into the entranceway where a man spits out his beer (which isn’t safe to drive if you’ve had too much) and a deafening, thundering, “COMET! COMET! COMET!” Chant nearly blows the roof off the arena. Yet the legend has yet to step out. Everyone is on there feet chanting as all their bought food is spilled yet no one cares.

 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME EDWIN!” Axis explodes with happiness.

 

 

 

“DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGG!” Suddenly the truth his everyone harder than THE ELK’S spear that CC isn’t really here.

 

“What?” Axis asks confused as the chant dies and silence takes over, the lights go off.

 

“Very funny… whoever is pulling the prank quite it now. It’s one thing to mess with Comet, but show SOME respect for Andrew Rickmen.” Axis then continues.

 

The lights go back on dim and the black sparks pour… and there the man stands in his pose.

 

“He’s dead for Christ’s sake!” Suicide King explodes.

 

“Worked for Mercury.”

 

The blood red pyro goes off and it slowly switches to black as it surrounds the man making a shield.

 

 

“Hallelujah bitch, besides Nekura Edwin… YOUR worse nightmare is in town. So come on and step right up… get into that ring, it’s time we chatted.” Insane Luchador says with no doubt a smirk behind the pyro.

 

Edwin’s face twists into rage and he slowly stands up and Axis warns him not too. MacPhisto removes his sleeveless red vinyl trench coat and lays it on his swivel chair. He slowly walks towards the ring and he slides in waving to all his fans that stop their booing. IL’s music dies and Insane Luchador looks back and “Battle Flag” picks up. Andrew Rickmen rolls his eyes and comments, “Greedy bastard.” For the first time everyone sees him as he leaps through the pyro and he looks the same as before. Maybe more defined in the arms but that’s all. Baggy black sweatshirt, baggy tan cargoes, black skate shoes.

 

The self-dubbed True Plague finally makes his way down to the ring and he slowly slides in. Edwin gets a microphone thrown to him and Luchador walks over to Funyon nearing Edwin as he snatches that microphone. Edwin’s eyes are filled with rage as this man has made working for the JL regrettable at times. “Nice to see you Edwin, kudos on the retain.” Insane Luchador begins. Edwin’s eyes scrunch and a puzzled look etches onto his face.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Bloody marvelous that show was.” Insane Luchador says making fun of MacPhisto’s accent.

 

No reply.

“Anyways, as you can all see I’m very well alive… and very in shape. –Jeers-. Perhaps I should be the first to get the title shot whoever wins it. Actually, I demand. I want that shot or I’ll refuse to renew my contract.” He says nonchalantly.

 

“What makes you think we need you?” Edwin asks with a pity laugh.

 

Luchador pauses, and Edwin takes advantage of the silence, “You’ve only given us hell!”

 

“True… but I’ll.”

 

“Will you settle for a match today? Against someone fresh?”

 

Insane Luchador shifts his body weight and smirks, “I’ll destroy any newbie…” but he gets cut off.

 

 

“I said fresh Rickmen. You never listen.” Edwin strolls near the center of the ring and Andrew follows with caution.

 

“Well who the hell back there is ‘fresh’ and can even make a challenge to me! HUH? I AM A LIVING LEGEND! You’re just so greedy that you won’t have me bumped! Because the last thing you need am me to MAUL you MacPhisto!” Luchador shouts to huge boos with rage. IL takes a huge step forward and clinches his right fist as they are nearly nose and nose dead center of the ring.

 

“Well, I’ll let your own ego kill you but if you’d like to know who your facing…”

 

 

“Get on with it!” Rickmen barks.

 

 

“GRIMEDOGG!” MacPhisto yells. The fans all leap from their seats into more cheers voices already weary.

 

“Grimedogg? He’s back?” Axis shouts with glee.

 

Rickmen throws his head back and laughs, “Grimedogg, a newbie…” The truth finally sinks in and Insane Luchador’s eyes go wide, and he takes a step away from Edwin in retreat. “The WF legend Grimedogg?” Edwin nods. Insane Luchador’s face goes into panic and MacPhisto gives a dazzling smile.

 

“And the last thing we want is for him not to feel at home… so I made it a hardcore match. Consider this your retirement match, Andrew.” Edwin says with a sinister tone. Edwin turns and walks towards the ropes as he stares at the announcer’s table.

 

”No Edwin wait, WAIT!” Andrew screams.

 

Edwin spins around on his heels, yellow and green eye meet Rickmen’s fierce green.

 

“It’ll be Grimedogg welcome back and good bye match.” Edwin laughs and as Rickmen retreats to “Dig” the screen fades to black for Flesher’s new cereal but before Axis shouts back, “That match is next!”

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

(“And that’s why you should always eat my cereal Superior O’s, it’s only $5.99 on SWFsuperstars.com and each one comes with a different card of your hero, me… Tom Flesher, hitting the Boilermaker on a various superstar!” The commercial slowly fades from the millions of viewers all across the nation tuning in to the very special Metal. A quick shot of outside the arena where a marquee is hanging with pride on the arena. Then the camera cuts inside the arena where the loyal fanatics and stand up ready to shine for their few seconds of fame. The elite signs are noticed like “One more time for the R-Master!” The camera slowly slides down to the ringside where Edwin sits on the far right with the wild attire and the goofy grin, as he quickly gets ready to greet the fans. Axis shifts in his chair smack down in the middle with the bland look as he just stares at the camera like he does at every single show. Last but not least, Suicide King sits in his chair slouching with a smirk on his face).

 

“Welcome back to the absurdly fantastic Metal! I am sitting on the verge of history in the making!” Axis proclaims, and he glances over to Edwin who picks up.

 

“Yes, and I’m not talking about the Insane Luchador –huge jeers erupt from the crowd- who is apparently very alive and well faces the hardcore legend… GRIMEDOGG! I’m speaking of the Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em! HUZZAH!” Edwin explodes with a very content grin, as all is right with the world.

 

“But even better than that… Silent gets to destroy Renegade!” Suicide King says as he licks his lips and rubs his hands deviously.

 

“Okay then…” Axis says a little bit freaked as the show is becoming too much as he resorts to his old addiction. He slowly reaches under the table and takes out a Pepsi Max. His fingers fumble with the tab as he finally opens it listening to the carbonation hiss out. Axis takes a quick swig and then gives nerdy thumbs up.

 

“Didn’t you lose that deal after you quit?” Edwin questions his yellow eye trained on the soft drink.

 

“Ye-… no… I don’t know…” Axis replies and he gives a very quick shrug and he takes another chug and the smallest amount of Pepsi Max dribbled down his chin.

 

“You’ve lost your touch.” King jeers with a smirk on his face.

 

“But… it’s been a while… maybe this’ll help.” Axis’s hurt face stares below the desk where he pulls out a very tall paper cup as he pours his addiction in it then he pulls a straw out of no-where as he drops it in with care. He takes a very quick sip through the straw and then sits it off to the side near King.

 

Edwin sighs a tad disappointing at the lack of a crazy straw yet he pushes himself on-wards, “Well since it’s right about time for the match to kick off I predict Grimedogg mauls the bloody Plague.”

“Grimedogg can’t touch IL!” Suicide King says to Axis’s wide-open mouth, as it seems SK forgot Grimedogg is a living legend. “I could beat Grimedogg…”

 

“Have you always been this much of an IL mark?” Axis inquires.

 

“Of course not, I couldn’t stand him from the ML up until now… this Plague stuff is the good stuff. Remember when he tried to brawl with JD and me? Or was that Midget?” Suicide King replies with a chuckle and he then shudders.

 

Everyone in the Really Cool and Rad Arena has a shudder spasm as the mention of “Midget.”

 

Funyon finally stops shuddering in the ring he begins to rally the crowd announcing the match, “This match is scheduled for one fall… and it could be history in the making… it is a hardcore match. No rules besides the fact that murder will be heavily frowned upon!” The fans all cheer loudly ready for the spot-fest that’s sure to take place but the cheers end as the fans are puzzled by Funyon’s final statement.

 

Violent guitar riff, and then the song picks up pace as everyone knows what’s coming as they rise to their feet and begin to “boo.” A group of fans worm their way towards the ring entrance and they spit towards the entrance. The lights suddenly flicker off and now the pesky fans spit blindly for the time being.

 

The lights go back on but are dimmed down. The 6’3” sinister figure doing his famous arched back with arms out in cross lets out what seems to be a battle cry. As sudden black sparks cascade and fall onto and past the Insane Luchador he doesn’t flinch. He then gets out of his pose. As sudden deep crimson red pyro explodes very close to the challenger and Luchador flinches involuntarily .As the sparks matching the black hit and collide while they fall to the metallic ground it creates a shield around the Luchador. His figure is still seen through as one certain finger has been erected towards the crowd causing more boo’s. That dark red soon shifts to a raven black which matches the original pyro and IL lets the shield turn all black as the very last crimson red spark lands at toe of his black Orisis skate shoe. He leaps through the sparks and lands into a roll as he springs up into the air landing on his feet while he then stops. His face hurt he turns to his left seeing a teenager stricken by another plague; acne. He snatches the sheet of paper the misguided youth has on him and Luchador swipes the pen in his striped shirt pocket protector.

 

“Introducing first… the challenger in a sense… he was spawned in Easton, Pennsylvania and he clocks it at an absurd 195 pounds. He is the most recent installment and version of the Plague…. INSAAANNNEE LUUUUCHHHADOOOR!” Funyon’s booming voice mixes in with the music and the fans jeer even more wondering how they’ll make it to the rest of the show with a good, strong voice.

 

He signs the autograph and hands it back to the fans, and looks down towards the ring. More boos emerge making the True Plague happy but he takes a sudden step back as if he was in shock and his eyes scan around an area. They shout in disgust and IL continues the walk down the aisle and he makes a sudden turn to his right and he’s at the foot of the steel steps. He grasps the turnbuckle with his right hand, and as a piece of trash flies down and hits him in the shoulder, nearly leaving a stain on his baggy black hooded sweatshirt, he looks up at the guy marking out for himself. Near the very top of the arena his friends and him sit on the smaller balcony that is projected more outwards, a jump would result in you hitting the aisle below. Luchador smirks hoping the kid will trip as he climbs up the steps and stands on the apron doing the slit throat taunt as he hops over the top rope. Andrew Rickmen looks directly at the ref, Hardcastle, who merely tells him to wait before pulling out the weapons.

 

“Hey Axis.” King calls to Axis’s attention.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What’s the different between Spider Nekura and me?” King asks moving his head towards Edwin who’s already glaring at King.

 

Axis sighs and then replies, “I don’t know what?”

 

“I haven’t thrown Edwin off the top of the Hell In A Cell!” King bursts into laughter and Axis is able to stifle a chuckle and Edwin pretends to ignore that whole segment as he looks back into the ring.

 

The music fades from the PA system and the fans that were standing seat back down shifting positions getting comfortable.

 

Suddenly “Whatever It Takes” by P.O.D. explodes onto the sound system causing every single person in the audience to stand to welcome the return of Grimedogg! As the first few notes are played fantastic green and silver pyro explodes into the sky. Insane Luchador stands tall in the ring focused on Grimedogg and then their eyes connected. His rather well muscular defined body paused on the stage and he ran a hand through his short black spiked hair. Grimedogg wearing a black generic loose t-shirt rips it off to more catcalls from women than there is in a New Jersey bar as he throws it to his fans. He walks down still not used to wearing tights yet. He begins the descent down the aisle and he slaps fans who reach out and a “GRIME DOGG!” chant kicks up. He then stops as the same “lucky” teenager offers him the other side of the paper. He nods and signs it with a great grin. Grimedogg looks over and sighs and gives the last of the high five’s and he hops onto the apron climbing in. Sexton steps towards the middle but Grimedogg hops onto the top turnbuckle and barks, “GRIMEDOGG IS HARDCORE!” But before he can even get off Insane Luchador charges and hits a rather weak forearm to the WF legend’s back. He falls from the top turnbuckle and lands on his back. Hardcastle calls for the bell that chimes in.

 

“And we have a match!” Axis proclaims with glee.

 

“A short one since Insane Luchador is going to destroy Grimedogg...though I would of hit a more powerful move then a clothesline.” King says with a smirk crawling across his face.

 

Insane Luchador drops to the ground putting his elbow out and it connects with Grimedogg’s chest. IL gets back to his feet and grabs a section of the Ex-Hardcore champ hair. He tugs him back to his feet and Insane Luchador draws his hand back and brings a slap across Grimedogg’s chest.

 

“WHOOOO!”

 

He slaps with more stiffness and force.

 

“WHOOO!”

 

Grimedogg gets hit with the third that causes him to stumble back and get caught up in the ropes. Insane Luchador getting cocky leaps into the air and twists his body to the side and pulls his feet in and thrusts out hitting the dropkick. Grimedogg’s chest once again is assaulted by another attack and Grimedogg flips over the ropes from the impact. However he lands on his feet as Insane Luchador rolls out and throws a punch but misses. IL growls and he throws a right hook, ducked, he throws a huge left handed Haymaker, sidestepped.

 

“I think Grimedogg’s getting his skills back!” Axis says wishing.

 

Suddenly as if a switch had been turned on, Grimedogg throws three hard yet very quick jabs with two rights and one left that sends IL reeling. Insane Luchador stumbles forwards throwing out a straight punch that is narrowly avoided and then gets hit by a huge European upper hand. Insane Luchador falls to all fours face turned to shock as Grimedogg grabs his hood and lifts him up to his feet again. The fans burst into cheers as Grimedogg unloads a slew of punches in Blitzkrieg style. Luchador is once again stumbling back, he throws a sloppy hook with his left hand but it is caught and the hold is transferred to his wrist as Grimedogg puts his free hand on his back and he Irish-Whips Luchador into the steel steps. Luchador’s back slams into the steps while he emits a moan of pain but he raises to his feet shaky. Grimedogg rolls into the ring as Insane Luchador smirks and walks by the apron where he lefts it up and bends over. He looks under the apron for weapons but for the most part sees black. He reaches under and the camera focuses on him as he pulls out a kendo stick. “Not bad.” He mutters and he tosses it to the side. He then reaches under again and fishes out a trash can lid. Meanwhile Grimedogg rolls out of the side of the ring quietly walking near Insane Luchador, finally he towers above him. Insane Luchador notices that’s it’s darker in the area and he looks up to see his foe! Andrew Rickmen rolls backwards and at the same time pulls at what he’d had his grasp on. He leaps to his feet raising the lethal weapon in the air as Grimedogg can barely keep from laughing. Insane Luchador glances up to see he’d pulled out a white and dirty toilet scrubber!

 

“TOILET SCRUBBER OF DOOM!” Edwin yells out laughing hard. Axis who had been taking a sip spits the Pepsi Max everywhere as King rolls his eyes and comments, “Nekura still does it better.” Edwin growls at the mention and King snickers.

 

Grimedogg throws out his leg kicking Insane Luchador in the gut as he drops the scrubber and gets in a front headlock. He then grabs the pocket of IL’s cargoes and hits a quick snap suplex causing Insane Luchador’s back to slam into the trash can lid. Luchador winces but is able to get to his feet a bit shaky. Hardcastle asks the two to get back in the ring but neither listen and he sighs remembering why he hates hardcore matches. Insane Luchador and Grimedogg face off in a grapple. Grimedogg having superior strength pushes Luchador backwards and Grimedogg quickly releases the grapple and throws a knee towards IL’s gut. Insane Luchador catches it then puts it to his side and then he pulls him forwards. Rickmen then gets a sloppy headlock in and hits the quick DDT. Grimedogg lying to the side Andrew gets back to his feet and he stalks towards the timekeeper sitting there with the ring bell and the chair. Luchador growls at him and he drops the ring bell (causing it to go off) and he grabs the chair. He folds it and runs towards Grimedogg who’s at one knee looking down trying to clear his head. He gets back to his feet and looks up seeing a flash of steel but he ducks by instinct. The two both twirl around and Rickmen catches the former WF’er by surprise with a stab to his gut. He doubles over and Insane Luchador grabs the back of his head. Rickmen takes a few strong steps forwards and tosses Grimedogg downwards as he hits the ground. He then rolls into the steel steps with force and Andrew grabs the chair by the end and tosses it into the ring. Insane Luchador getting crowd heat as he pulls up Grimedogg by the back of the head. He points to the turnbuckle and he draws his opponent’s head back but the G-dogg throws his hands forwards stopping the motion and then he grabs IL’s head and rams it into the corner. It makes the famous clang sound and Insane Luchador drops like he hit by a bullet. Grimedogg looks down and then walks past the dislodged steel steps and he reaches under the ring pulling out a trashcan. He holds it by the handle in the air like it’s his God with a huge grin on his face. He then tips it over as a long steel pipe falls out and hits to the ground. Insane Luchador near is at both knees and he hears the crowd pop as Grimedogg begins to walk over with the pipe in both hands. Andrew Rickmen panics and fumbles with his cargo pocket but soon he gets back to his feet and he whips out an aging and short yet bulky chain. Insane Luchador takes the first swing yet misses horribly as all the fans back away and Insane Luchador leans his back against the barrier rail as he whips the chain once again. It hits Grimedogg’s chest hard and he falls to one knee dropping the pipe, wheezing.

 

“Good God… that hard in the chest, really now!” Edwin exclaims out in rage.

 

“In self-defense…” King quips back in defense.

 

Insane Luchador quickly kicks the steel pipe out of his reach and he grabs Grimedogg by the chin guiding him back to his feet. He slowly brings the chain back. (“Oh God no…” Axis pleads seeing what IL is planning). But Grimedogg suddenly lunges forwards in a spear slamming IL’s back into the guardrail. His face twists into pain and Grimedogg takes two steps back and hits a clothesline that sends Insane Luchador into the crowd. The crowd pushes forwards to assault their ex favorite under-dog but security flocks over shoving and holding everyone back. Luchador takes a big gasp in and hops onto the top of the guardrail trying to catch Grimedogg off-guard but Grimedogg bends down a bit and has his hands up like he’s “Raising the Roof” and then he trips Luchador onto his hands as he tosses him towards the ring apron! He barely misses the ring apron himself and he lands in push-up position having catch himself. Grimedogg goes for the stomp but Insane Luchador rolls away to jeers. He gets back to his feet and sprints towards the announcer’s table where he leans against it breathing hard and sweating. His eyes look up and lock with Edwin’s gaze of more hatred and Insane Luchador smirks. He grabs the only monitor in the middle of the table as he pulls it up and waits. Grimedogg charges what seems to be the tired IL and Axis yells out in warning, “LOOK OUT!” Grimedogg tries to put on his brakes but is caught with a shot of the monitor to the head. Not drawing blood yet. “Tough bugger.” IL says with a chuckle. To a chorus of jeers he pulls him up and lies him back down on the table. Hardcastle warns IL and Luchador simply hop onto the top turnbuckle.

 

“Should we shove him off?” Axis asks staring at Grimedogg who suddenly coughs.

 

“No let the match continue…” Edwin replies with a sigh. At the same time the three pull themselves and their chair back while Insane Luchador

 

Insane Luchador now perched on the top turnbuckle stands, and Grimedogg sees him and wheezes. IL then bends his knees and leaps into the air flipping his body forward twice towards the table and Grimedogg goes to roll of… but gets hit by Insane Luchador still! Wood flies everywhere as even the smallest pieces hit the crowd and a “Holy Shit!” chants kicks up while the Pepsi Max flies everywhere soaking the area. Edwin groans and then gets on his headset.

 

 

“450 Splash!” Axis marks out.

 

“New table, yeah.” Edwin sighs again as Insane Luchador makes the cover!

 

ONE! The chant dies and turns into “GRIMEDOGG! GRIMEDOGG!”

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR- Grimedogg places his hands onto IL and utilizes his strength throwing him off as he yells at, “GRIMEDOGG IS HARDCORE!” The fans erupt into cheers and Grimedogg grabs the guardrail and is barely able to pull himself up. Meanwhile Luchador a bit shaky is fine. He then reaches under the ring and grabs another trash can. He tosses it into the ring and then finds the jackpot, a sheet of glass. He slides it carefully into the ring and he rolls him himself. Grimedogg then stumbles by the apron as he slides into the ring. The two grapple again and the hardcore legend hits the knee to IL’s gut. He then follows through with hitting a scoop slam like hold and then he throws him back hitting the Fallaway Slam. Grimedogg then grabs the trashcan and tosses it by Insane Luchador and he then lays him softly on top. Stumbling from the shot he just took begins to climb the top turnbuckle and then faces the crowd screaming, “GRIMEDOGG IS HARDCORE!” He then leaps into the air and back flips his body and he barely connects with Insane Luchador to hit the moonsault as the trashcan crunches! The crowd goes bonkers as Grimedogg covers!

 

“ONE!” They chant along.

 

 

 

TWO! “IT CAN’T BE OVER!” SK screams out.

 

 

THREE! “No! Wait! A Two Count!” Axis cries out as IL’s foot is barely touching the rope. Grimedogg’s face sinks and it just gives him more energy to keep going as he rolls out of the ring. Rickmen wheezes and he’s able to bring himself back to his knees as Grimedogg searches under the apron. He pulls out an un-set up table as Grimedogg lays it against the apron. Grimedogg also grabs a folder chair and tosses that high into the air as it clunks down near the turnbuckle. The self-dubbed Plague stands back to his feet wobbly and he sees the table as he charges it to another chorus of heat while at the last few moments he drops to his back sliding near the table as he hits it full force. Grimedogg goes reeling back to the guardrail as Insane Luchador scrambles up and leans over the top apron as he pulls the table in the ring. Luchador sets it up in middle of the ring, meanwhile Grimedogg slides into the ring and Insane Luchador lunges for a quick grapple but misses as Grimedogg gets a quick back grapple. His arms wrapped around Luchador’s waist as he begins to lift for the German Suplex.

 

“That’d due IL in!” Axis proclaims.

 

Luchador then throws back his leg as it hits Grimedogg in the family jewels. He releases the hold and Rickmen backs away into the corner. Then suddenly Grimedogg doing his best to no-sell the pain charges at Andrew with tremendous speed.

 

“FINAL FANSTATY!” Edwin says marking out.

 

At the very few last seconds Andrew Rickmen leaps onto the top turnbuckle where he grabs the ropes for balance. As Grimedogg hits straight into the turnbuckle missing the Gore Andrew hops onto the second turnbuckle and leaps onto G’s bend over back and he falls over grabbing both legs and rolling him into a pin hitting the sunset flip. The fans all rise and boo loudly while the count begins,

 

ONE! Grimedogg tries to kick out.

 

TWO! Grimedogg kicks out sending Luchador to his back as he legs fly up and the WF legend grabs the two legs and pins them down by his head causing another pin!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

THRE, Luchador thrusts all his weight forward hitting another sunset flip type pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR, Grimedogg kicks out and rolls to the outside where the fans cheer him on to get back in.

 

Grimedogg stares at Luchador who’s standing there seemingly without a care. Grimedogg sees the kendo stick as he grabs it throwing that into the ring along with a crushed trashcan, table, and a steel chair. Grimedogg slides in as he shows IL the weapon he’s wielding. Luchador smirks and charges quickly as Grimedogg takes a swing and it smacks with force onto IL’s chest. Rickmen grins as Grimedogg hits him over the head to the please of the crowd. With an even bigger grin Andrew falls to his knees and as the kendo stick makes a sickening smack across his face the grin disappears. Then he smiles again as blood seeps through his lips and he then bares his blooded teeth and more blood flows. Grimedogg freaked out by the Plague’s psycho grin he pauses and then gets a kick to the gut! Then followed by a lunge forward… the headlock, the Evenflow attempt but Grimedogg shoves him off! Insane Luchador bounces into the ropes but catches himself as he wraps his arms around the ropes. Grimedogg once again charges in a spear position.

 

“No turnbuckle to save you now!” Edwin says with glee.

 

Luchador stands their like a deer caught in a speeding car’s headlight but at the least second he throws his knee up causing Grimedogg to stop and Luchador locks in the headlock! He falls to his back but gets shoved to the ground the chair by the top of his head. Grimedogg kneels beside Luchador and makes a fist. Then IL delivers a weak chair shot! Grimedogg hurt yet not out lays off to the side while Insane Luchador scrambles to reach the turnbuckle. He gets there as he mounts it slowly then he flips the bird to the crowd while a “YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!” chant fills the arena. He then shakes his head no as he hops down to even MORE boos. Andrew smirks as he pulls up the former WF’er. He grabs the ends of the chair and gets a good step back and while Grimedogg nearly falls from being out of energy he sees a flash of steel. And then he sees nothing. The echo from the chair shot from Hell bounces off the arena and everyone’s silent. Luchador grins as he sees the top of Grimedogg’s good-looking face is ripped open. Flesh is out of place and the blood that makes a man so vulnerable slowly comes out. The camera gets a closer look, as it’s more of a gash than a deep cut and the blood goes down the side and parts to drip onto the canvas. While some other blood just pours down his nose and breaks in different spots, which eventually hits his chest. The camera zooms out and shows Andrew as he throws the already set up table carelessly to the outside by the right steps (now out of place from previous abuse). Luchador then grabs Grimedogg by his black spiked hair and he tosses the lifeless foe over the top rope while IL slides out himself. Luchador then pulls Grimedogg up throwing a kick to the gut and then hitting the headlock and the drop all in quick motion hitting the Evenflow DDT. Sexton asks Insane Luchador to end the match but IL gives him the bloody grin and Hardcastle shudders, as Insane Luchador shows no mercy pulling Grimedogg up and forcing him on the table. Andrew Rickmen sticks out his thumb and runs it across his bloody chin as he wipes off a streak of blood. He then writes “IL” on Grimedogg’s chest as he hops over the guardrail and security is forced to flock and follow. Andrew turns around seeing the former WF’er still laying there twitching. He pushes up the steps towards the balcony he’d seen earlier and right away Axis catches on.

 

“Oh God no, not the Balcony Sault!” Axis pleads.

 

“Wait! HUZZAH! IL’s only has hit it once or twice! His chances are against him… cocky,” Edwin begins but gets cut off.

 

The “Plague” then comes up to the end of the stairs. The camera has problems focusing so one stays on a far away view while another struggles to weave the dense security. Luchador then takes a sudden turn as fans shove and throw stuff at him. IL looks up seeing the lower balcony in sight. He walks through an aisle of the fans as various things hit him, as he ignores them completely. Suddenly security gives up and lets him do his by the empty balconies. Fans suddenly flood in his way and Luchador shoves various people getting too close. He stares down annoyed as Grimedogg is showing life down at the aisle. He then grabs the bulky top of the balcony and he pulls himself up and he rolls into the lower yet more jutted out balcony.

 

“Christ! How flipping high is that?” Axis asks in shock as the camera shows him from the zoom out camera where he’s just a dot nearly.

 

Insane Luchador takes a deep breath in looking down as Grimedogg begins to roll and recollect himself, as he wipes the blood out of his burning eyes. Andrew Rickmen quickly turns around and hops up and his hands grasp around the higher balcony, his sweaty hands causing him to slip and crumble down to the lower balcony where he nearly rolls off.

 

“Oh God!” Edwin exclaims as IL catches himself by one hand with exhausted muscles.

 

“Do you care for IL?” Suicide King asks.

 

“No, but if he died, think of the lawsuits, it’d be the messiest situation since Wilson blew up the store!” Edwin proclaims.

 

IL climbs the first balcony and he quickly hops onto the second balcony swinging a leg out and he rolls into the place tired as hell.

 

“You ought to forgive Nekura…”

 

“Why?”

 

“He thought you were a birdie!” SK says with laughter.

 

“What?” Edwin asks simply.

 

“HE THOUGHT YOU COULD FLY!” King exclaims nearly rolling out of his chair in laughter.

 

Andrew Rickmen stands on the very ledge takes one of the deepest breaths in his life and then turns his back to the far away camera. He counts to himself and screams out “I AM THE INSANE LUCHADOR!” and he bends his knees leaping into the air and forward sending all his body weight backwards. Cameras flash so much everyone’s nearly blinded as a huge “HOLY SHIT!” chant kicks up.

 

“GOOD GOD!” Axis cries out and he stands up from his chair to get a closer look.

 

Luchador with about ten feet to fall he back and he back flips again causing more camera flashes! Sexton runs away from the scene as Grimedogg throws his weight to the side and begins to roll off but is caught! A deafening thud is heard and (on Edwin’s request) paramedics storm onto the entrance ramp and two stretchers. The camera zooms in on the bloodied men where a puddle of blood has formed around IL’s face as he’s cut himself open as the wood exploded into million of pieces. Sexton runs back up and Grimedogg is barely breathing and he doesn’t take notice that IL’s arm is slung over Grimedogg for the pin. The chant is still continuing and it goes dead silent for the count,

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

DING! DING! DING! The fans don’t know whether to boo or cheer but surely Suicide King cheers as Edwin tries to shrug it off.

 

“IL returned and has just beaten the legend known as Grimedogg!” Axis proclaims.

 

-Screen fades to black showing the two being swarmed by paramedics as “Dig” violently plays-.

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

A guitar begins as the hard beat of DMX’s “Who We Be” blares through the speakers and the fans start to look confused.

 

(Axis) – Looks like you’re up my non-English, but equally as annoying counterpart.

 

(King) – You know, this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever been a part of. It’s an insult to my amazing talent and my flawless career. Besides, didn’t I already beat that over grown Afroman once before?

 

An explosion of fire on the stage marks the entrance of the greatest champion, JL or WF, that has ever graced this great company. However, his entrance is less than intimidating as he is forced to wheel himself out via wheelchair.

 

(King) – HAHAHAHA!! Look at this idiot…he’s in a wheelchair!

 

(Edwin) – That’s because he has a broken neck you turd.

 

(King) – Oh, this is going to be too easy. Hey…weren’t you partly responsible for that broken neck?

 

(Funyon) – Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is probably the stupidest match I’ve ever had to announce, and I’m going to go kill myself immediately following it………awww, fuck it.

 

As Funyon begins to strangle himself with the microphone cable (because in the SJL, we don’t have wireless), HVT wheels himself around towards the announce table where a bright yellow mini-ring is set up upon it’s surface.

 

(Edwin) – Hey man, Thugg and I settled all that up, although…if I do recall, you were one of the ones to set him up.

 

(Axis) – OH! Gotcha!

 

(King) – Shut up both of you…I need to focus.

 

King begins to warm up with his robot as HVT wheels himself in position…

 

(Edwin) – Bloody hell Thugg, you look great!

 

(King) – {whispers} For a cripple…

 

HVT whips King a hard look, and then reaches out and punches him in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground behind the announce table. Axis and Edwin burst into laughter as HVT grabs his robot, ready for action.

 

(Axis) – HAHAHAHA…I hope you…HAHAHAHA…broke his jaw…

 

(Edwin) – HAHAHAHA…maybe they’ll have to…HAHAHAHA…wire it shut and we…HAHAHAHA…won’t have to listen to him anymore.

 

(King) – Not likely piss for brains…I’m fine. We already know that Thugg can’t beat me, even when he cheap shots me.

 

As the fans pay little to no attention, HVT and King man their Rock ‘Em, Sock ‘Em robots from either side of the announce table, and wait for the bell.

 

DING DING DING

 

(Edwin) – And the moment I’ve been waiting for since I joined the SJL way back in the day, our first ever Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em robots Match!!

 

In a flurry of red and blue plastic, punches fly from both King and Thugg’s robots, some connecting, some not. Loud clicking fills the air as both men frantically press the buttons behind their robots, pushing forward and pulling backwards to get better position to score a knock out blow right underneath the chin of the robot.

 

(Axis) – Hey…who’s the referee for this match? I already see about 10 other robots ready to run down to the ring and interfere.

 

(Edwin) – Hmmmm…good question. I guess I forgot to assign one…that’s the last time I throw back an entire bottle of tequila before booking the card. Wait…you booked the card, didn’t you?

 

(Axis) – Yeah…I did…damn Fosters…FOSTERS, AUSTRAILIAN FOR BEER!

 

Everyone in the entire arena, including Thugg and King stop everything and stare at Axis, who slouches down…

 

(Axis) – Soooorrrryyyyy! They gave a whole heap of money to say that…

 

While the whole world stares at Axis, HVT jumps up from his chair and slams a steel pipe over King’s head, rendering him unconscious.

 

(Edwin) – THUGG!

 

King’s head immediately slumps and falls on the table…but lands right on his robot controls, forcing one last punch from his robot…THAT SCORES…and Thugg’s robot’s head shoots upward, indicating a knockout. Everyone at the announce table is in shock as HVT looks around bewildered, but then, through quick thinking, HVT slams his robot’s head back down, presses his button as hard as he can, forcing his robot to connect with King’s chin. King’s robot’s head shoots up so hard, it disconnects from the robot’s body and flies over and hits Axis in the eye.

 

(Axis) – MY EYE! MY EYE!

 

HVT looks around innocently, and meets eyes with Edwin…

 

*slides Edwin a Lawn VIP Card*

 

…Edwin breaks his eye contact with Thugg, slides the card under the table, and raises Thugg’s hand in victory!!

 

(Axis) – EDWIN!!

 

(Edwin) – Fuck that man…The Lawn is the place to be…I just secured myself a lifetime pass.

 

With Funyon dead, there’s no one to announce the winner, so HVT, Axis, and Edwin just sit there dumbfounded…

 

(Axis) – Uhhhh…well then…I can’t believe you cheated for this fat bastar….ARGH!

 

HVT jumps up, grabs Axis by the throat, and Untames him onto the mini-ring.

 

(Edwin) – THUGG!

 

*Slides Edwin passes to the Pre-PPV party*

 

(Edwin) – What? I ain’t see nuttin’.

 

HVT sits back down, as if he never left, and wheels away.

 

(Edwin) – Well, that was bloody interesting to say the least…

 

(Gilbery Godfrey) – You’re goddamn right it was!!

 

(Edwin) – Uhhh…yeah…we’ll be back with some wrestling in a little while, and you’ll notice that all has been restored…King, Axis, the table, you minds after I use this silver thingy from Men In Black…but I WILL STILL HAVE MY VIP CARD!! HAHAHAHA!!!

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Once more, the commercials fade to black, just long enough for SJL Metal to come back on the air. The cameras sweep the crowd, and the fans in the Really Cool and Rad arena are on their feet, all the great action so far getting them like…. TOTALLY fired up, ya know? After showing off the incredible atmosphere once more, the cameras cut to the announce desk, showing the tremulous trio, minus one. Axis ignores this, and starts right into his spiel.

 

“Fans, welcome back to this exciting edition of SJL Metal! I am the amicable Australian, and to my right is the crown prince of flash and panache himself, your SWF world champ, and one half of the SWF tag team champions, Edwin MacPhisto.” Here, Edwin smiles and salutes the camera, shot coming in just tight enough to capture the commisioner’s face, right above the two shining belts on the announce table in front of him.

 

“Normally, Axis and I would be horribly annoyed and bothered, but luckily for us, and you, Queenie is recovering from his hellacious matchup, from just before the commercial break. Why, it was brutal, bloody, violent! I’d say we saw two men go to .9 or higher on the Muta scale!”

 

Axis is there to cut in, of course, shaking his head. “Edwin, if they hadn’t been playing Rock ‘em Sock ‘em robots, that might be true. But then, I guess this is just what I have to be prepared for, working an announce job next to you. Fans, King will be back at the announce table any time now, but we have to tell you about our two remaining matchups, and keep the action going. Coming up in our main event, two favorites to win this tournament are going to face off in what should be a brutal matchup, which may very well end with another crippled individual on the roster, if things continue the way they’re going.”

 

Edwin nods his head, looking somber, but he quickly smiles, seeming to realize something. “You may be right, oh glorious play-by-play guy. But we’ll get into more depth when that match arrives. Right now, fans, you’re set to see two fantastic talents face off to earn the right to move on to the finals, to win a chance at the richest prize in the sport. Err…. the richest JUNIOR league prize in our sport.”

 

Axis nods, looking down at two sheets of paper before him. “Yes, Edwin, but these two have heart, and they want to win, to be crowned champ, no matter what else anyone may say. There’s some serious history between both of these individuals, as Fugue and CIA met in their very first televised matches for the SJL, a match that CIA won, barely squeaking out a victory over the sadistic music-man. I’d have to say, CIA’s singles record not withstanding, both these men have a grea chance of advancing, and either one could easily be a dark horse winner of this tournament.”

 

Edwin smiles, holding up his SWF world title. “You know, some might expect me to argue with you, but this title here means a lot, and so does the one these men are fighting for. Add to that the fact that the first match these two men gave us was so close, some even alleging Fugue got his shoulder up before the count was completed, and we should see a real brutal battle. Either man could win, and join the ranks of the many great champs that came before.”

 

Axis seems impressed with Edwin’s objectivity, when suddenly King settles in next to him, apparently back from re-cuperating. “So, as I was saying, Axis, that’s why CIA’s gonna destroy Fugue.” King seems incredulous, turning towards Edwin, and Axis seems a bit puzzled, but Edwin merely turns to the camera. “No time, King, Axis and I have talked enough already. Let’s get this thing underway!”

 

In the ring, Funyon is ready, displaying Flash and Panache in his outfit that would make Edwin cry if he knew those words were used in this situation. The fans quiet down as Funyon raises the microphone into the air, beginning to announce the first combatant for the match just as the lights cut out, and "Toccata and Fugue in D minor" begins to pulse through the sound system. “Ladies and gentlemen! This match is scheduled for one fall, and is a semi-final tournament matchup for the SJL WOOORRRLLLDDDD CHAMPIONSHIP!” The fans cheer, a bit, though the nervous silence persists, especially as Fugue appears, stepping out onto the stage and smiling his eerie smile as he looks over the crowd. The lights come up, and Fugue’s music begins to move faster, the first few heavy metal guitar riffs starting. The crazy submissions expert begins to slink down the ramp, gazing out oddly over the crowd as he passes, and Funyon continues.

 

“Now making his way down the ramp, from Philadelphia, P.A., and weighing in at one hundred and eighty one pounds, the man who writes the music of pain….. FUUGGGUUUEE!!!” As Axis finishes, Fugue slides into the ring, coming up to his feet with a sinuous motion like a snake, smiling face coming up just inches from the gaudily be-decked Funyon. Shocked, Funyon stumbles back, till he finds the ropes at his back, and, with one quick look to the announce table, where Axis nods, Funyon steps out through the ropes and takes his seat, fans finally beginning to boo Fugue as he sways back and forth in the middle of the ring.

 

The boos don’t last long, however, as the lights dim once more, a flood of red colour washing over the entire arena, and the SmarkTron flickers to life. The giant sized image of the Canadian flag flutters for only a moment before the Smarktron Seems to cut out, a half second still of CIA super-kicking Fugue from the ring apron appears on screen, then the image changes back, and the music begins. Many fans sing along with those first words, ‘Oh Canada’ seeming to wash over the crowd, all heads turning towards the entryway, just as the pyro explodes, glittering red scraps of paper beginning to flutter down from above. The opening riff of ‘Secret Agent Man’ twangs out, and the Canadian warrior steps through the curtains, the fans exploding with energetic applause.

 

Raising his arms out to his sides, CIA stands, motionless, head down, until the fans applause begins to die down. As it finally does, the Canadian reaches for the zipper of his jacket, sliding it down and shrugging the apparel off onto the ramp behind him, beginning to march toward the ring. After the first step or two, the masked grappler raises his hand, microphone at the ready. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and everybody else right here is HOUSTON, TEXAS!” At this, the fans explode, drawing a smile from CIA as he continues to walk and talk. “You all saw the show, didn’t you folks? The first appearance of your Canadian hero? That’s right, this may seem like Déjà vu for a lot of you, and hey, I’m starting to get that funny feeling. Like… this has all happened before. And do you know why, all you wonderful Houstanite-inians? Because that’s exactly right. This has happened, and folks, one on one, I’ve never had my shoulders down on that mat for the three. Sure, some folks say it was close, real close. And they’d have a darn good point. You’re in for a hell of a show, folks. Buckle in, grab a beer, and let’s get ready to blow the roof off this joint!”

 

The fans cheer again as CIA drops the microphone to the floor, sliding in under the bottom rope and stepping forward, coming up just before Fugue, looking down at his much smaller foe. Fugue continues to smile, swaying back and forth even though the music has stopped, and after a moment, CIA smiles as well, glaring deep into Fugue’s eyes and stepping back just a step. Matthew Kivell steps into mid-ring, the bell sounds, and both men lurch forward, stepping into a collar and elbow tie up immediately.

 

King: Looks like this is the opportunity Fugue has been waiting for. This buffoon has been getting title shots and opportunities left and right, while Fugue, victim of a fast count, gets cheated. It’s a shame, and it’s about to be rectified.

 

Edwin: Yeah, I guess it’s pretty biased of me to book a man who has an undefeated singles record, and has plowed his way through the tourney to get here, in the process dealing Poisyn his last match in the SWF.

 

Axis: Both men have been impressive, and made their way this far, and no matter what anyone says, this match will be a good one, and a CLOSE one, no matter who wins. An immediate lock up, the patriotic CIA looking to overpower Fugue, Fugue looking to outwrestle his larger foe.

 

Indeed, in the ring, Fugue seems to be trying to jockey for position slightly, even as CIA forces him a step back, looming over the deranged musician slightly. Pushing down even more, the masked grappler forces Fugue down to one knee, overpowering the smaller man. Coming back up slightly, the Canadian wrestler pulls Fugue into an irish whip, sending him running toward the ropes. Fugue sprints across the ring, CIA Coming up to the center of the ring behind him. The sadistic submissions master is just about to hit the ropes, when his feet leave the mat, and he springs back off the second rope, flipping in midair and sending his body crashing into CIA’s, driving the larger man down to the mat.

 

Axis: Impressive twisting springboard moonsault from Fugue, and that’s not an ordinary move in his repertoire.

 

King: Looks like CIA was caught unprepared by that move as well, Fugue having come to this matchup very prepared.

 

Edwin: They’re in a world title tournament, King. What would you suggest, coming after a hard night of boozing?

 

King: Only if they have a designated driver….

 

Axis: That’s an interesting viewpoint from you, King.

 

King: ..to run down their opponent with the car.

 

Back in the ring, Fugue has rolled away and to his knees, reaching down and taking hold of the patriotic grappler’s arm, lifting him to his side and locking in a hard armbar. CIA writhes in the hold, but the downed Canadian rolls to his front, dragging Fugue over him and to the mat. Coming free of the hold, both men quickly come to their feet, and CIA no longer seems to be in quite the same jovial mood as when the match began. Stepping forward once more, Fugue slides in to try and lock up with CIA, meeting a punch instead. Following up, the Canadian sends his fists crashing across Fugue’s smiling jaw, three hard shots, before he spins around and drives his elbow into the smaller man’s face as well, stumbling Fugue back towards the ropes.

 

Axis: Amazing! CIA delivers four brutal shots to the face, and Fugue is barely dazed. That Bionic elbow surely would have taken most men off their feet.

 

Edwin: Fugue is nothing if not resilient, and that’s propelled him to his share of victories.

 

King: And it will again, tonight. Fugue can take any amount of punishment CIA can dish out.

 

Fugue looks up towards CIA in the ring, coming up to his feet completely, almost in defiance. The Canadian rushes his foe, and Fugue moves swiftly, stepping to the side and clasping his hands, bringing both swinging up into CIA’s gut, and doubling him over. Taking hold of CIA’s arm once more, Fugue tugs the Canadian to his feet and faces the ropes, apparently intending to repeat a maneuver that worked quite well in the two men’s last match. Leaping over the ropes, Fugue holds on to the arm, and CIA’s elbow comes down across the rope, snapping back up hard when Fugue finally releases his hold, coming to the floor on the outside. CIA clutches his arm on the inside of the ring, stumbling back a few steps. Fugue slides in under the bottom rope, coming up behind CIA and spinning around with a legsweep, dropping the patriotic grappler to the mat. Standing over his foe, Fugue begins dropping down with hard knees, right into the arm and shoulder of CIA.

 

Edwin: Fugue following up on what he learned in previous matches, but still he comes back to the same strategy of working that arm to set up one of his wicked submission holds.

 

King: That’s cause he’s angry that he was cheated out of a victory last time.

 

Axis: You know, King, even if that match had continued, we can’t know who would have won.

 

King: Speak for yourself.

 

Fugue continues his assault, breaking up his hard kneedrops with stiff standing kicks to the shoulder of CIA, finally reaching down to tug the larger man to his feet, crowd booing the deranged one’s tactics. As the masked man reaches his feet, he gets his hands up in front of him, showing Fugue back, showing his power as the smaller man is forced back, a few steps across the ring. Fugue moves in again, looking to keep the pressure on, but CIA moves swiftly, turning his body to the side and driving his knee up into Fugue’s midsection. Fugue is doubled over, and CIA doesn’t waste a moment, taking hold of the sadistic one’s arm, tugging it up between Fugue’s legs. Lowering his weight just a bit, CIA hefts upwards hard, flipping Fugue up onto his good shoulder, spinning a bit in place and falling forward to send Fugue crashing to the mat. Coming to his knees for just a moment, CIA takes of Fugue’s arms and crosses them on his chest, pushing all his weight down. Kivell slides in to make the count.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

TWO!

 

.

 

.

 

Fugue kicks out!

 

Axis: A well-executed pumphandle slam by CIA, a very rare move for the Canadian, but quite effective in this case. All that driving force brought Fugue to the mat. But we’ve seen Fugue take some amazing punishment, and he gets the shoulder up just after the two.

 

King: Fugue is simply not going to let this match end that way. Fugue wants to hear bones snap and muscles tear, along with that sweet chorus of CIA screaming as he taps out.

 

Edwin: Maybe, but 30 Helens agree, CIA’s got a great chance if he keeps hitting high impact moves like that. That move would take the wind out of a zeppelin.

 

King: So he’s going to give a pumphandle slam to a zeppelin?

 

Edwin: I said it COULD, dummy. Noone could pumphandle slam a Zeppelin. You would have to use a piledriver.

 

Dragging Fugue up to his feet, CIA strikes with hard forearms, crashing across the musician’s chest. Picking up speed, CIA soon has Fugue backed up against the ropes. Taking Fugue’s wrist, CIA whips him across the ring, following close behind. Fugue once more leaps up onto the second rope, bounding up and turning his body , legs scissoring around CIA’s throat. Flipping his body down and around, Fugue attempts to send CIA sailing through the ropes. Instead, the Canadian spins in place and sits out, dropping Fugue to the mat with a hard powerbomb. Staying in place, CIA holds on for the cover.

 

ONE!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

TWO!

 

.

 

Fugue kicks out!

 

Axis: Another two count for the Canadian as he reversed that maneuver, maybe expecting Fugue to leap off the ropes again. But I wonder why Fugue didn’t just grab the ropes? Both men were within easy reaching distance.

 

King: Simple. Fugue can take anything his opponent wants to dish out, and he knew he didn’t need to use the ropes.

 

Edwin: King may be right. But… doesn’t that violate the heels handbook?

 

King: Where did you get a copy of that!?

 

Edwin: From Thoth. He also tried to get the whole Carnival to play DDR with him. I really never knew how scary the Clan could be until that moment. *shudder*

 

Using the ropes to pull himself up to his feet, CIA reaches down to grab hold of Fugue, only to be met with a hard kick to the shoulder, Sending him back a step once more, Fugue tugging himself up to a standing position. Fugue stands still, merely smiling towards CIA, who is still holding his shoulder. After a moment, The masked wrestler rushes at Fugue, but the smaller man is too quick, stepping aside and tugging CIA down, spinning him around and driving him between the turnbuckles. The Canadian’s shoulder crashes into the post with a hard smack, and the crowd winces and boos. Kivell moves in to check on CIA, who is drawing back to get himself out of the turnbuckles. The Canadian has almost freed himself, when suddenly Fugue hits him with a dropkick to the back of his legs, sending him forward into the post once more. The crowd comes to their feet, booing and cursing as Matthew Kivell brings Fugue back to the center of the ring, admonishing him. CIA slides back out of the turnbuckles, falling to his knees and clutching his shoulder.

 

Edwin: That dirty, no good, sneaky, evil, son of a….

 

King: It’s beautiful! Besides, Edwin, don’t you hang out with guys like that now?

 

Axis: Well, either way, that was a rather cheap move by Fugue, and CIA’s got to be in a truckload of pain right about now.

 

Finally, Fugue steps past Kivell, though he does take a moment to lean in real close, still smiling, causing the ref to move back a bit. Fugue reaches CIA, leaning down and wrenching the Canadian’s arm up behind his back. CIA cries out, But Fugue is not through, starting to shamble back to the center of the ring without lifting CIA to his feet, pulling him back by his bad arm. The fans boo, and Kivell steps in to try to get Fugue to break the hold, But Fugue merely wrenches up on the arm, lifting CIA up slightly from the mat with the pressure. Kivell begins to administer a count, and Fugue takes hold of CIA’s hair, arm still held in place, tugging the Canadian fiercely to his feet. While the fans continue to curse at the deranged one, Fugue pulls to the side of CIA, wrenching it above his head, attempting to twist it even further. CIA cries out, clearly in a great deal of pain. Fugue slides under the Canadian’s arm, and CIA moves quickly, bringing his arm down around the deranged Musician’s shoulder, and wrapping his leg around his opponents. Tossing his body forward, the crowd explodes as Fugue is driven into the mat with one of CIA’s finishing maneuvers.

 

Axis: CIA had to escape that move, and he does, with the move that brought him victory last time! The VIA RAIL on Fugue, and both men are on the mat!

 

King: That will be no more than a delay tactic, as far as Fugue is concerned. He kicked out before, and if there’s not a fast count, he’ll kick out again.

 

Edwin: We’re about to see, you pusillanimous sack, cause CIA has the cover!

 

King: Pusil…. Is that good?

 

ONE!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

TWO!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

THRE…. KICKOUT!

 

The crowd is shocked, as Fugue gets his shoulder up, just before the count of three. CIA looks towards Kivell with disbelief, but Kivell holds up two fingers, and CIA comes to his feet, holding his shoulder in pain. Stepping away, the Canadian crouches down and taps his heel against the mat a few times, seemingly waiting for Fugue to get up on his feet. Fugue begins to rise almost immediately, still smiling, and oddly not showing any signs of pain or fatigue. When Fugue rises to his knees, CIA begins stomping on the mat, and the audience begins to clap along. Fugue makes it fully to his feet, and CIA swoops in, sending his foot crashing into Fugue’s chin with a hard superkick, crumpling the deranged one back to the mat. Not wasting a moment, CIA heads for the corner, immediately beginning to ascend the turnbuckles.

 

Edwin: CIA is keeping on top of things, and it looks like he’s planning to goup top, even with his injured shoulder. He couldn’t possibly be planning to try and hit the Air Canada, not after what happened last time, could he?

 

King: Fugue is giving him no other options. CIA only barely won before, and that strategy is no longer any good for him. He needs to bring out all his weapons for this match. And he’s still gonna lose, cause Fugue won’t ALLOW the pinfall to happen.

 

Axis: Generally that is the strategy most wrestlers employ, isn’t it, King?

 

King: Shut up.

 

On the turnbuckle, CIA looks over his shoulder, seeing Fugue still down in the center of the ring. Clutching his shoulder, CIA looks rather uncertain, and he hesitates for just a moment. The crowd cheers, and CIA looks back over his shoulder one more time, seeing the unmoving Fugue. Finally, he looks to the crowd, raises one arm in the air, and takes flight. Pushing off hard, the Patriotic grappler takes to the sky, body twisting, arena filling with the sounds of cheers, the bright light of cameras flashing, all at once. CIA’s body twists with a supple grace in mid-flight, and he is soon in the right position, flying downwards. The impact is loud, and the Canadian’s voice rises in a cry of pain as his elbow and shoulder impact hard…..

 

 

 

Right into the chest of Fugue. The fans explode, and the Canadian rolls over as quickly as he can manage, hooking the leg of Fugue. Matthew Kivell slides into place, hand moving to make the count that will move CIA one step closer to the world title.

 

 

ONE!

 

.

 

.

 

Edwin: Yes! He hit it, and Fugue has to stay down after that! This will do it!

.

 

.

 

.

 

TWO!

 

.

 

Axis: He may well have it! What a move!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

King: If you want that title, Fugue, you KICKOUT!

 

.

 

THREE…….. NO! FUGUE KICKS OUT!

 

King: I told him to do that.

 

In shock, CIA rolls off of Fugue’s body, still clutching his shoulder in great pain. Kivell checks on both men, and CIA begins to argue with Kivell as he does so, raising three fingers in the air. Kivell raises two fingers, and indicates a very small space, moving his arm and placing his hand on his shoulder. CIA shakes his head in disbelief, and Kivell shrugs. Meanwhile, behind the both of them Fugue slowly rises, coming a sitting position.

 

Edwin: By all that is good and tasty in Odin’s Beard, how is Fugue not knocked out?!

 

Axis: It’s just…. It’s amazing, Edwin, that’s all that can be said.

 

King: That’s right, it IS amazing, and Fugue has now taken EVERYTHING CIA can dish out. He’s in the finals, right there.

 

In the ring, Fugue comes up to his feet, smiling like a madman, and it seems he may just prove King Right, as he approaches the downed CIA, shoving Kivell out of the way. Kivell looks dumbfounded, seeing Fugue on his feet, and the Canadian is no doubt just as shocked as he turns towards the crazed sadist he has to put down. Fugue doesn’t give him much chance to respond, however, taking hold of the Patriotic grappler’s hair, tugging him up to a sitting position. Then, reaching behind his opponent, Fugue hooks both arms in a double chickenwing.

 

Edwin: There is NO WAY. Two finishers, and he gets right back on, flips his MUCH LARGER opponent overhead, and bridges into his own finisher? Uh-uh, I don’t believe it.

 

King: Believe it, Edwin. I told you Fugue would go far, and he’ll SHOW you why. This will be the most harmonious victory of the evening, and Fugue will move on to the finals. I LOVE this.

 

Axis: It DOES seem Fugue is going to attempt his finisher, which he likes to call ‘Harmony’, but it will be a task for him to even get CIA up into the air. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s still standing.

 

Fugue looks up, and the camera shot zooms in, showing the smile still pasted to his face, fans booing crazily. The shot switches again, just in time to see Fugue tug upwards hard, and CIA’s body lifts into the air, flipping over Fugue, and his body crashes facedown to the mat. Fugue arches up hard, bridging into the move, arms pulling and tearing at both of the Canadian’s shoulders. CIA cries out, and Matthew Kivell drops into place, asking if the Canadian wants to quit. CIA shakes his head no, gritting his teeth against the pain, and using his knees to begin slowly squirming across the ring, though Fugue tries to hold him in place.

 

Axis: He’s done it, and this match seems to be all but over, fans. Fugue’s harmony is music that soothes his heart and breaks his opponent’s bodies.

 

King: Look at that idiot, still trying to move. Where is he going to go, anyway? His hands are nowhere near the ropes, and he couldn’t grab them anyway! Ha! Just tap, you simp!

 

Edwin: I don’t know King. CIA can’t hold out much longer, but what if he’s? Hmm….

 

King: If he’s what?

 

Edwin: He King, you ever play soccer?

 

King: Yeah, why?

 

In the ring, CIA continues to squirm, crying out, and he succeeds at slowly moving his body. Finally, he kicks back hard with his feet, and his body shifts a few more inches, allowing him to scissor both feet around the bottom rope. Kivell see this, and immediately moves to Fugue, beginning the count to make him break the hold.

 

Edwin: Cause you have to use your feet, that’s why.

 

King: Shut up. Hey! The Canadian’s screaming that he quits now! Call for the bell!

 

Axis: No doubt he’s wanted to just give up, but he got to the ropes first, King, so it doesn’t matter if he quits now, since Fugue should have broken the hold.

 

King: He has till four. Drag him to the center of the ring and tear his arm off, Fugue!

 

Finally, Kivell reaches four, and Fugue releases his hold, coming up to his feet. Pulling CIA to his feet, Fugue once again grabs the arm, pulling the Canadian towards the center of the ring. Wrenching the arm overhead, and twisting it, Fugue hooks an armbar. Wrenching up causes CIA to cry out, but the Canadian manages to get his wrist free and spin around, slamming his elbow into the back of Fugue’s skull, buying himself a moment. Standing in the ring, both men look towards one another, Fugue’s face bruised, his breathing becoming very heavy, but that same smile pasted on his face. CIA, his arm hanging nearly limp, his form hunched over. With a quick movement, Fugue rushes forward, and tries to take hold of CIA’s arm. The patriotic wrestler steps aside, throwing out his good arm to grab Fugue’s shoulders, kicking his foot at Fugue’s lower leg. Falling back, CIA drops Fugue to the mat, driving his opponent’s head down with one swift motion.

 

Axis: My goodness! An inverted Via Rail out of nowhere! That’s the third finisher Fugue has taken, and this absolutely has to be the end!

 

Edwin: If CIA rolls him over and makes the cover, he’s going to make it!

 

King: NO! Fugue’s kicked out, and he will kick out again! There is no way I’m gonna sit here and call a world title match with THAT man in it!

 

In the ring, CIA looks over, his arm still trapped under Fugue’s body. Rolling over Fugue, CIA drapes his arm across his opponent’s chest, and the fans begin to chant as Kivell drops to count the pinfall.

 

ONE!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Axis: And this should be it!

 

.

 

.

 

TWO!

 

.

 

King: No! He’ll kick out, he has to!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

THREE!

 

Edwin: YES! He’s done it! CIA advances!

 

The fans explode, all on their feet, and the music begins to play, even as Kivell moves over to check on CIA. Fugue manages to roll over to the apron as Kivell does so, but CIA barely moves, except to hold his shoulder, and roll from side to side.

 

Axis: Amazing! CIA finally put down Fugue, but if you looked at them now, you would swar it was CIA who’d taken the beating of a lifetime. And that’s what it took for CIA to win, to prove that he wanted it the most. We should see an amazing world title match, no matter who wins our next exciting matchup.

 

Edwin: That’s right fans, we have a commercial break to go to, but we’ll be right back, and see two more men who want this title just as much as these two, if not more. Silent vs Renegade, it’s your main event, and it’s coming up next.

 

King: I hate Canada. And I ALWAYS will. Hmph.

 

With that, teh cameras fade out, final shot showing CIA as he finally manages to come to his feet in the ring, and the fans go crazy.

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Anticipation buzzes like electricity through the sweaty, electric swarm of bystanders. They have come into the arena in droves and aren’t leaving until the final match is over. Any critical doubt (if any) will evaporate with the sheer rush of blood that wrestling should always give you. The arena is swollen with thousands of souls so anxiously awaiting the main event, every molecule of air the Rad arena has gone stale.

 

“Hello and welcome back to SJL Metal, I’m Axis sitting here ringside by Edwin Macphisto and the Suicide King!” Axis resonates.

 

“Yes Welcome back to the SJL, where the head clank, necks crank, and Rockem Sockem Robots run wild!” Edwin adds.

 

“Well, one more match left, Renegade takes on Silent.” Axis continues.

 

“Both men have an undefeated streak since returning to the SJL, and both men are considered to be favorites to win the World title tournament. But only one man can make it to the final.” King says.

 

“Well technically King, two men can make it to the final. What you should have said was ‘Only one of these men can be one of the two finalists to the world title’.” Edwin says affirmatively.

 

“Grrr…lets just get on with the match shall we?” King says in a huff.

 

“The Sound Of Silence” by Nevermore seeps through the speakers as the arena lights are guillotined without warning. The arena is literally saturated with derision and scorn as the spotlights installed over the ramp transfigure to a grievous, heavy gloom of Crimson. Two viscous clouds of smoke swim across the ramp as Silent emanates from backstage. Silent almost seemingly hovers his way down the ramp as he clutches his infamous steel tipped cane, hypnotically playing with it in his hands. The Smarktron begins to flicker madly between snapshots of the Clan and its characteristics in an effervescent, blinding on epileptic motion. The still slideshow of snap shots quickly change to a brew of Silent himself, punishing opponent after opponent in a debauched fashion.

 

“The following match is scheduled for one fall and for a place in the finals of the SJL World championship tournament! Introducing first, from Phoenix Arizona, weighing in at two hundred and forty eight pounds and representing the Clan…SSSSILLLLENNNT!” Funyon bellows.

 

Silent reaches the ring, suddenly stopping with a fixed gaze at seemingly nothing. By a look into his erratic bright eyes you can tell he has some non-negotiable thirst to share his sickness that can only be sedated temporally by a win tonight. Silent violates the squared circle, impenetrable to the millions of insults being flung into his direction, as if the hate is fueling him. Silent hands the ref his Cane, who timorously accepts it. Silent begins to reach behind his head, fitting his hair strands into a ponytail. Silent brings his shoulders together, which causes the coat over his body to skid over his disrobed back and sends it veering to the announcer’s table.

 

“Silent came back not so long ago and he is back with a bitter vengeance. Not only has he made it to the semi finals, he has crippled Cutthroat.” Axis says, looking very disturbed with a glance at Silent.

 

“But in all honestly, is that bad thing?” King asks.

 

“Hmmm, I guess not.” Edwin agrees.

 

Silent lounges onto the nearest top rope as “The Sound Of Silence” fades into a premature end.

 

“PICK UP THE PACE!”

 

The opening words of “(SIC)” by Slipknot are eructed from the speakers. Through the sheer eargasmic jolt of sheer noise produced, the machete-mouthed Renegade steps onto the ramp. Renegade surfaces onto the ramp with his head inclined, focussing a hard fixed stare on the floor. Renegade thrusts his arms in the air, surpassing them over his head. Renegade suddenly collapses his hands:

 

*BANG!*

 

As if he just pulled onto an invisible lever, a pyro flies into the vacant air space of the arena and explodes bang on time, deteriorating into a mist of cerise rain.

 

“And his opponent, from New York City, weighing in at two hundred and sixty pounds…RENNNEGAAADE!”

 

Renegade strides down the ramp, talking random trash to no obvious person in the arena with a tongue that could open a wine bottle. Renegade insolently reels into the ring and lock eyes with Silent. Renegade cowers mockingly at Silent’s truly fearful presence, as Silent remains apathetic. Renegade hops onto the middle turnbuckle and takes a glance at a crowd who are uneasily and half heartily supporting him.

 

“Both men are not fan favorites by any stretch of the imagination, but the crowd seems to be backing Renegade up a tad more.” Axis observes.

 

“Well its either Renegade or a man who probably thinks that the Spanish Inquisition was tough love for heretics.” Edwin adds.

 

The ref calls for the bell, before all manner of deranged behavior erupts in the ring.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Renegade and Silent step up to each other, evidently reluctant to start the match in a brawl. They both concurrently lock, with each man putting equilibrium force through the hold to keep themselves upright. Renegade astutely manages to jostle Silent into the corner, applying a greater volume of pressure on Silent due to his benign position. Renegade clamps his right arm over Silent’s face in a horizontal plane. Renegade tugs Silent over to the ropes, which causes his own body to confide on the ropes in a side headlock. Silent thinks fast and places his arm over Renegade’s shoulder blade, and with a push sends Renegade towards the ropes. Renegade sprints to the ropes and ricochets back, only to be knocked down to the canvas as Silent withdraws his shoulder. Renegade mildly falls to the mat as Silent paces to the ropes. Renegade purposely lays flat on his stomach, which allows Silent to hop over Renegade’s body. Silent is still in continuous motion as Renegade rises from the mat. Silent makes a second rebound off the ropes as Renegade swivels his arms outwards in a clothesline, but Silent inclines during his motion. Silent avoids the early contact and revolves around Renegade to the point where both men are back to back. Silent pitches both of his arms back and hasps onto Renegade’s lengthy hair, pulling downwards. Renegade neck is drawn down onto Silent’s shoulder which sends a ripple of ache down Renegade’s spinal cord as Silent hits a hangmans neckbreaker. Silent goes for the cover:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kickout!

 

“Silent getting the first big impact move in the match with a hangman neckbreaker.” Axis says.

 

“It’s going to take more than headlocks to sedate Silent.” King says.

 

Silent brushes his hand through Renegade’s hair and clutches it tightly, and lifts Renegade up to a vertical base. Silent nudges Renegade into the corner and scoops down towards Renegade’s right leg. Silent slings Renegade’s right leg over the middle rope and drives his boot into the inner side of the patella. Renegade cringes as Silent offers no succor to his trapped opponent. Silent drives his boot into Renegade’s knee joint a couple of more times. Silent’s motive is unequivocal, as he pulls Renegade by the same leg and opens Renegade’s legs apart. Silent again attacks Renegade’s knee with punishingly heavy stomps as he leaves Renegade helpless on the mat. The onslaught continues as Silent traipses Renegade towards the ropes. Silent establishes Renegade’s right leg onto the bottom rope as he puts his own foot over it. Silent uses the elasticity of the ropes to spring up slightly and drop down onto Renegade’s patella with his elbow. Renegade wails horrendously as Silent repeats the process in dispersed intervals.

 

“Silent as usual targeting his opponents legs and right now has done a fair bit of damage to Renegade’s right knee.” Axis observes.

 

“Smart smart stuff from Silent, knowing that Renegade is the faster competitor he is trying to work the knee, which will ultimately slow Renegade down.” King says.

 

“To say that this will be the cleanest of matches is a bit of an understatement.” Edwin adds.

 

Silent reaches down for Reengade’s head and brings him back up again. Silent swiftly fires his foot outwards, which connects back into Renegade’s right knee. Renegade buckles over as Silent repositions himself to the right side of Renegade’s body. Silent lifts Renegade up a couple of inches off the mat and with casual callousness he drops Renegade onto his right knee. A shiver of torque spreads through Renegade’s knee as he is dropped in a kneebreaker. Renegade’s right knee gives in as he stations himself onto his left knee. Silent grabs Renegade’s arm and bars it in front of Renegade’s body and reaches over Renegade’s shoulder and wraps it around Renegade’s arm with the other. Silent drops down and drives down Renegade’s shoulder into the mat. Renegade uncontrollably rolls onto his back from the impact as Silent hooks up the leg:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Renegade brings the shoulder up.

 

“Silent slowly decimating Renegade with that single arm DDT.”

 

“You see that? All it took was one kick to the knee and Renegade prone to attack!” King says admirably.

 

“If Renegade doesn’t get some offence here it could be over quite soon.” Edwin says.

 

Silent again heaves Renegade back up, and with a flick of the wrist he sends Renegade hobbling towards the ropes. Silent stoops down as he awaits Renegade to return from the ropes. Before contact is made Renegade lashes out with his left leg, smacking into Silent’s accessible face. Silent jolts an inch backwards as Renegade fastens both hands around the sides of Silent’s hair; his nails sinking deep into Silent’s cheeks as Renegade’s twists in a ninety degree angle. Silent shows he is still on top form as he swivels his hips alongside his neck so the neck region is not put under any pressure. Renegade briskly slots Silent’s head into his armpit and makes a tug at Silent’s tights, which causes Silent to flip over spine first in a snap sulpex. Renegade swoons over Silent’s body in a pin:

 

ONE!

T- Silent raises his shoulder with ease.

 

Silent almost pounces back onto both feet to the shock of everyone, especially Renegade.

 

Renegade, still dumbstruck frowns angrily as he reaches out for Silent’s arm and whips him to the ropes, but Silent bypasses it to a whip of his own in a reversal. Renegade rushes back from the ropes as Silent intentionally hits the mat as he attenuates his legs. Silent hooks the leg of Renegade with one foot in front of Renegade’s ankle and then trips Renegade up by pushing down with his other leg in the back of Renegade’s right leg. Renegade is disposed on the canvas as Silent stands upright and clutches onto Renegade’s leg by the ankle. Silent heaves Renegade upward and unceremoniously drops him back down onto his right knee. Renegade hollers in distress as Silent repeats the process, giving the crowd a stark reminder of his power. Silent crosses Renegade’s ankle into the crook of Renegade’s other knee. Silent uses the back of the leg to apply pressure to Renegade’s leg that is up and puts his own leg between Renegade’s entangled legs. Renegade responds with a staccato of screams as Silent falls backwards, causing more pressure to be applied to Renegade’s legs.

 

“Silent has Renegade trapped in an inverted Indian Deathlock.” Axis says.

 

“Renegade legs are truly hurting now, and Silent isn’t making things easier by falling backward.” Edwin adds.

 

“It could be all over now! Tap Renegade, you’ll loose the match but you can still use your legs afterwards.” King says.

 

The ref asks Renegade if he’s going to say uncle, but Renegade shakes his head madly in defiance even though he knows that there is no way he can counter this. For some twisted reason Silent releases the hold himself. Silent pulls Renegade up to his feet and again swivels to the left side of Renegade’s body. Silent raises Renegade up the mat and prepares to drop him down in another kneebreaker, but Renegade launches his arm over Silent’s head and slings it over his head. Renegade pushes down, causing Silent to drop down into Renegade left knee, the patella puncturing Silent’s face in a quick stab. The sudden impact takes Silent off guard and sends him tottering towards the ropes. Vengeance seems to be the only thing on Renegade’s mind, and with a burst of speed Renegade escalates with a diving lariat. Renegade catches Silent by the neck, but unfortunately for Renegade he’s carrying too much momentum and both men descend out of the ring to the floor. Renegade is still soaking in ache, but grabs Silent by the ponytail and hurls his face into the steps. Silent’s head makes full contact, but Silent’s stamina doesn’t have seemed to drop by even one iota as his head rises back up without haste. Renegade latches onto Silent by the hand and whips him in the direction of the ring post on the outside, but Silent suddenly spews a change of pace and reverses the whip. BONG! Renegade’s head is almost taken clean off as Silent hurls him into the post with fierce live relief. Silent looks on at Renegade’s beaten body, showing no signs of feeling as if he was possessed by some sort of shamanistic spell.

 

“OUCH!” Edwin says as he cringes.

 

“Whatever semi-advantage Renegade might have had been shot back down by Silent.” Axis says.

 

Silent languidly reaches out for Renegade’s hair and hauls him back up to his feet. Silent applies a headlock onto Renegade and lifts him up by the tights. The crowd gasp and Silent heaves Renegade right above him, then quail as Silent falls forward. Renegade is driven stomach first to the concrete floor and THUD! Renegade’s knees smack down onto the steel steps that were unavoidable the minute Silent heaved Renegade upwards. Renegade rolls frantically from side to side on the steps, groveling with distress as Silent rolls Renegade into the ring. Silent himself slides back in and makes a cover:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH- Kickout!

 

Silent heaves Renegade up and wraps an arm around Renegade’s shoulder and entwines his leg around Renegade’s. Silent pulls back, flattening Renegade onto his lower back in a Russian leg sweep. With complete fluency Silent brings Renegade back up and administers a headlock onto Renegade and with one burst of energy flips Renegade over in a vertical suplex. Silent again takes Renegade back up and clutches Renegade by the waist. Silent flips Renegade over with a jerk and slams him onto his back in a gutwrench suplex. Silent is still forceful on finishing Renegade off and raises him from the mat once more to reach the zenith of what he calls “Breaking Points”. Just as Silent prepares for the head and arm suplex, Renegade slips on a front facelock onto Silent. Renegade puts Silent’s nearest arm over his shoulders as he yanks Silent by the tights. Renegade executes a quick fall backwards and lifts Silent up slightly up as he falling with a pace that shoots through his veins like pure adrenaline. Silent is snapped over on his back in a snap suplex. Renegade pulls Silent up, as he has a tenacious grip on Silent. Renegade falls back again with withering precision, but still avidly wanting to inflict damage. Renegade raises for the third time and with a one final laborious pull he manages to hit the third snap suplex. To Renegade’s horror Silent wearily rises before Renegade can even attempt a pin. Renegade can see Silent is slightly stunned as dashes to the ropes, transcending his limitations through his knee injury as he hobbles to the ropes. Nevertheless Renegade comes back on the rebound and WHAM! With bullet acceleration and unhinged energy, Renegade ploughs Silent down and sweeps him off his feet in a mighty spear. The response is nothing short of fanatical as Silent’s head crashes into the canvas. Renegade makes the cover:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Shoulder up!

 

“What a spear from Renegade, but Silent is just not going to succumb to Renegade’s movelist!” Axis says.

 

“I’m surprised that Renegade got any count at all!” Edwin says.

 

“No way that would have finished Silent off!”

 

Renegade cognizes that he needs to deliver every drop of impact he can produce as he goes toward the turnbuckle’s, thinking that a top rope maneuver will be able to inflict more damage. As soon as Renegade turns his back Silent’s upper torso surges from the mat. Renegade only reaches the bottom turnbuckle when he feels Silent’s arms coil around his stomach in a reverse waist lock. Renegade swallows a small ball of snot in his fear as Silent elevates Renegade’s behind him and surpasses him over his head. Renegade lands right across his shoulders as Silent perniciously drops him back in a release German suplex. Renegade rolls onto his back as Silent barely takes any time to hesitate and reaches out for Renegade’s legs. Silent faces away from Renegade as he seizes one of Renegade’s legs. Silent bends the leg sideways and behind one of his own legs and on top of Renegade’s other leg, creating a “4” symbol with Renegade’s mangled legs. Silent holds onto Renegade’s straight leg and holds the bent leg in place with his own. Silent begins to turn, which causes Renegade to roll over onto his stomach. Silent applies the pressure onto Renegade’s legs as he fully installs the reverse figure four. Renegade hollers with a maniacal, blood curdling yell. His legs truly feeling an inconceivable volume of pain as he continues to scream. Renegade makes a noise akin to a shrieking gibbon repeatedly swinging a pillowcase full of live seagulls into an industrial fan. The crowd looks on in shock to just how much noise of anguish Renegade is producing.

 

“Reverse figure four! Silent puts on another submission hold!” Axis says.

 

“Renegade has had it here, just hear those screams!” Edwin says, looking very disturbed.

 

“Well well well, where’s that cocky Renegade now?” King says in glee.

 

Renegade tries to move but an anchor of ache and pressure clamps him down to the mat. Silent has an adhesive hold on Renegade, and this time he isn’t letting go as Renegade’s lies face first on the mat in a pool of his own excrement. The scathing pain of the hold is becoming just too much as Renegade crooks his nail into the canvas, desperate to reach the ropes. Renegade drags himself one-inch closer to the ropes; his body still riddled with torque as Silent keeps the lock on. Renegade moves closer and closer till the point where it looks like he’s going to survive. Renegade’s skeleton is seemingly almost about to rip through his skin in order to escape the pain as Renegade brings his arm out to the ropes. Renegade can almost feel the tips his fingers scrape across the ropes and YES! Renegade grabs onto one of the ropes and hangs onto them for dear life. The ref commands Silent to release the hold, but Silent seems reluctant. The ref calls for a disqualification count:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Silent undoes the hold and leaves Renegade down on the mat. Silent works his way to the turnbuckles and crouches to his knees ready to strike Renegade back down the minute he comes back up. Renegade hobbles back up with great difficulty as Silent launches his leg out to the side and attempts a well-scouted superkick, but Renegade sees it coming. Renegade pushes Silent’s incoming leg upwards, which pulls Silent up close to Renegade. Renegade hooks Silent’s leg till the point where Silent has to tiptoe on his remaining leg. Renegade falls back, smearing Silent onto the canvas with cradle suplex.

 

“Cradle Suplex! Renegade come back into the match.” Axis says.

 

“No way Silent saw that one coming.”

 

“Ha! This match isn’t over.” King says.

 

Renegade hooks Silent’s leg up:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T- Silent kicks out!

 

Renegade brings himself back up to his feet as he looks down on Silent. Renegade flails his arms back and forth, impatiently waiting for Silent to get back up. As soon as Silent straightens to a full vertical base Renegade brings his left leg outwards. Renegade’s toes jab into Silent’s gut as Renegade hopes this will cause him to buckle over, but Silent still stands. Renegade again kicks Silent in the midsection, and this time he does buckle over. Renegade turns his back towards Silent and rears both of his arms around Silent’s neck.

 

“Renebreak! This could be it!” Axis says excitedly.

 

Renegade skims on the facelock, but suddenly Silent’s arms slide under Renegade’s armpits and curl over his shoulders. Renegade looks on in pure panic and Silent heaves Renegade and bludgeons him into the canvas with a Dragon suplex. Renegade takes a pipe-heavy blow from the impact as Silent rises with Renegade as the hold is still unalterably in place. With quasar-like energy Silent tows Renegade for a second Dragon suplex. Renegade’s eyes droop and his muscles slacken as Silent hits the third and equally devastating Dragon suplex. Silent doesn’t want this to end as he brings Renegade up for a forth time and ends the plethora of suplexes with one final and lethally accurate Dragon suplex. Renegade is driven downside up on his shoulders as Silent arcs his back, which puts Renegade in a pinning predicament. The ref goes for the count:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE-

 

Silent’s grip loosens slightly, which causes Renegade’s left leg to tilt over the middle rope, nullifying the pin.

 

“Silent so close to getting that three count, but Renegade’s foot touches the ropes at the end of “Chasing the Dragon”!” Axis says.

 

“Lucky b******!” King says angrily.

 

“S’cuse me King, kids are watching this show you know!” Edwin says.

 

Silent takes a couple of deep rejuvenating breaths and goes back towards Renegade’s legs. In an attempt to lock in another figure four. Silent leans forwards and reaches for Renegade’s legs, but Renegade suddenly lashes his hand out and grips onto Silent’s tied up hair. Renegade pushes down with all the strength he can muster, causing Silent to fall forward on his back. Renegade pushes down onto Silent’s legs with all his weight in a roll up. Silent is taken integrally by stupefaction as the ref goes for the count:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE- Silent kicks out of the roll up!

 

New life is blown into the arena as the fans start to get on their feet as Renegade and Silent both rise from the mat. Silent brings his fist forward, but Renegade slaps it away and comes back with a fist of his own, which is followed by another, then another. Renegade punches in concise yet savage regulation. Renegade’s flailing fists are propelled forward like a cataclysmic tidal wave, almost blast-welding Silent’s face to the back of his head from the force. Renegade lunges at Silent’s arm and goes for an Irish whip, but Silent reverses it into an armwrench. Silent twists Renegade’s wrist inwards around its socket and flogs his leg out towards Renegade’s face. Renegade lowers his head to avoid the kick altogether as Silent makes a full three sixty degree turn. Renegade laps up the chance and scores with a kick to the abdomen. Silent buckles over as Renegade knots his arm around Silent’s neck and pulls it down in a flowing DDT. Renegade rams it home with great ferocity as Silent’s cranium raucously hits the canvas. Renegade is all sweat and biceps as he covers Silent in a lateral press:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

THR- Silent kicks out!

 

“Renegade is capitalizing, but Silent still kicks out!” Axis says, marveling somewhat at Silent’s vitality.

 

“What the hell? Pull yourself together Silent!” King shouts.

 

“The once canned excitement in the arena has now been…uncanned!” Edwin says.

 

The raging monster of a crowd is indeed on its feet, as Renegade receives a rapturous response.

 

Renegade pulls himself back up and shakes his tormented right leg in hope of loosening it up. Suddenly Silent spurts from the mat again, looking groggy but still determined not let up the fight. Renegade startles at Silent’s rapid recovery, but notices the glazed over look in Silent’s crystal eyes. Renegade clutches Silent by the hair and drags it to the nearest corner. Renegade drags Silent’s head back and hurls forward into the top turnbuckle. Silent’s head bounces off the pad as Renegade again drives it back into the pad, officiously propelling Silent’s face into the top turnbuckle again and again. The slams are coupled with a reciprocal chant-along from the crowd as Renegade continues:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

TEN!

 

Renegade’s fearsome firestorm of turnbuckle shots finally ceases as Silent staggers back from the turnbuckle. Silent is manifestly shaken, but also clearly not out as Renegade hobbles towards the ropes. Renegade comes back with an extended right arm and hits a clothesline, but Silent’s blank refusal is clear as he falls to his knees, still reluctant to desist. Renegade falls to his knees in Silent’s direction and drives his elbow right into the back of Silent’s neck. Silent’s nerves begin to spasm as he’s floored down to the mat. Renegade picks himself back up only to drop down again, lodging those elbow bones directly into Silent’s neck to make sure Silent stays down momentarily. Silent revolves onto his back as Renegade sprints weakly towards the ropes and come back with a feeble jump. Renegade withdraws both legs out and catches Silent in the windpipe with his left leg. Silent is forced down to mat as Renegade goes for the cover:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR- Kickout!

 

“Silent is just not going to quit! Anything that Renegade throws at him is futile!” King says with a smirk.

 

“What is Renegade going to do put Silent out for the three count?” Axis asks.

 

Renegade strives to his feet as Silent also gradually returns to a vertical base. Renegade launches his leg outwards, piercing into Silent’s gut and causing him to double over. For a second time Renegade rotates away from Silent and reaches out for his head. Suddenly Silent’s groggy eyes switch back on as Silent lashes out at Renegade. Silent positions himself towards the left-hand side of Renegade and reaches out for him with both hands. Silent wraps his right arm around Renegade’s neck as he coils his left arm underneath Renegade’s shoulder. Silent interlocks both hands together and completes the standing crossface. Renegade tries to squirm but Silent compress his arms, crushing Renegade’s face between his biceps.

 

“DEMONSTAR DRIVER! He countered The Renebreak into the Demonstar Driver!” Axis says.

 

“We’ve seen him cripple people with this move, and now he’s going to do it to Renegade!” Edwin says.

 

“So long Renegade, it’s been fun.” King cackles.

 

Silent lifts Renegade up and…Renegade falls back to his feet again. Silent takes a deep breath and tries again, but Renegade is only lifted a couple of centimeters off the ground before Renegade tenses his muscles and writhes for dear life itself, causing Silent to drop him back down to where he was initially. Renegade begins to slowly twist and turn his body to the left as he is kept under immeasurable pressure till the point where Silent is behind Renegade rather than on his left side. Renegade knows it’s now or never and swings his left leg backwards in-between Silent’s spread apart legs as hard as he can. Silent suddenly discharges the hold as the heel of Renegade’s boot connects shrewdly with Silent’s manhood. The ref is oblivious to the low blow as he can only see the front of both men due to his position. Silent bows forward in agony as Renegade takes a trip to the ropes behind Silent and leaps forwards. Renegade reaches for Silent’s perplexed head and locks in a ¾ facelock. Renegade pulls Silent down with all the strength he can congregate and grinds Silent’s face stridently into the canvas.

 

“RENEBREAK! Renegade got the Renebreak on Silent!” Axis hollers.

 

“Low Blow! Come on!” King objects.

 

“The crowd seem to like it though.” Edwin says.

 

Renegade flips Silent onto his back and with a cry of relief makes the cover:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

DING!DING!DING!

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner, and second finalist in the SJL world title tournament…RENNNNNEGAAAADE!”

 

Renegade is still prone to the mat; pinned down by the exorbitant suffering caused by the man he just beat. The ref calls for more officials to help Renegade up to his feet, as he is no shape to walk his way back to the ring. Renegade is dragged to the outside with the help of two officials as Silent rises from the mat. Silent’s eyebrows look like they are going to hit the ceiling as he hears “(SIC)” play, which conforms the fact that Renegade has won the match. Words cannot express what Silent feels as he insufflates heavily from rage.

 

“RENEGADE DEFEATS SILENT! Silent is out as Renegade manages to snatch victory from the ever near jaws of defeat!” Axis says.

 

“Renegade wins the match, but look at him now, he’s looking far worse off than Silent!” Says a surprised Edwin.

 

“Low Blow! Didn’t you see that? That was a low friggin blow!” King says in disgust.

 

“That’s all the time we have for today so tune in next show folks. This is Axis wishing you a goodnight!”

 

“Buh Bye!” Edwin says as the camera fades to black.

 

People begin to rise from their seats as the show ends, leaving the arena a cold draught clatter of nothing, which sends dazed but ecstatic fans into the night.

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

It's late at night following the end of SJL Metal, and the commissioner, Edwin MacPhisto, is busy at his desk backstage in the Houston arena, shuffling through some Junior League contract extension requests. After some intense searching, he finds the two contracts that he's searching for and separates them from the stack. He retrieves an ink pad and stamper from his desk drawer, and smiles with glee as he stamps the word "TERMINATED" in big block letters over the contracts of Flunkmasta Flexxx and Jacob Helmsley.

 

"Well, that's two less problems to concern myself with," Edwin says to himself as he crumples the contracts in question and tosses them literally over his shoulder.

 

The phone rings. Edwin glances at it in surprise, since it hardly ever rings this late. He shrugs and picks it up. "MacPhisto, SJL Commissioner's Office, serving pancakes all night. Can I help you?"

 

"Eddie Mac, it's Axis!" says the voice on the other end. Edwin's play-by-play partner seems agitated.

 

"Axis, what's the trouble, man? Something amiss?"

 

"Damn right there is," Axis replies. "I just got off the phone with a representative from the Ice Palace in Tampa, Florida."

 

Edwin thinks about that. The next episode of SJL Wrath, he realizes, is set to take place at the Ice Palace arena. "Yeah... and...?"

 

"Apparently one of the arena's owners caught their kids watching Metal tonight, caught sight of some of the violent content of the show, and freaked out!"

 

Edwin frowns. "Violent? Are you sure they weren't just bored from watching the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots challenge?"

 

Axis cuts Edwin off. "Eddie, I'm serious here! They called the arena and they immediately pulled out of their contract with us! We're banned from the venue indefinitely!"

 

"WHAT?!" exclaims Edwin. "Can they DO that?"

 

"Apparently they can," Axis answers.

 

"Cripes," mutters Edwin. "What are we going to do now? We can't change the venue this close to the air date. Half the roster already has plane tickets booked to Tampa!"

 

Axis remains silent, as there isn't much more he can say and he is at a loss for an idea himself.

 

Edwin puts the phone down and begins brainstorming. "How the hell are we going to pull this off..." Then Edwin is seized by an idea. "Wait a second... Tampa?" Edwin quickly picks the phone back up. "Axis, I'm going to let you go; I've got a call to make. We just might have a show after all."

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Summary!

 

No Show And Leave The JL FOREVER Match

Jacob Helmsley vs. Flexxx

WINNER: None. The JL loosens its roster by two.

 

European/TV Titles Two Falls Match

"The Franchise" Mak Francis © © vs. T-Bone vs. Thor vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

WINNER: Your new TV champion, Thor! And your new European champion, T-Bone! (Thor's Match)

 

Hardcore Match

Insane Luchador vs. Grimedogg

WINNER: Insane Luchador (Default)

 

Rock Em, Sock Em Robots Match

HVille Thugg vs. Suicide King

WINNER: Hville Thugg

 

WORLD TITLE TOURNAMENT

 

Semi Final 1

Fugue vs. CIA

WINNER: CIA

 

Semi Final 2

Silent vs. Renegade

WINNER: Renegade (Default)

 

Wrath card coming within the hour.