SJL Metal, Thursday July 25th!

[Guest Suicide King]

SJL Metal Card, Thursday July 25th

Due Date: 3pm EST Thursday (Whatever the hell that is)

Arena: The Gund Arena

 

TV Title #1 Contendership Match

Cutthroat vs. Fugue

- Fugue failed to garner a shot at the European title on Crimson. But, in compensation, he gets a contendership match against Cutthroat for the TV title.

 

 

Open Challenge

Tony “The Ironman” Brogan vs. ??

- On Crimson, the Ironman ran his mouth and issued an open challenge to take on all comes. Well, someone accepted and now on Metal the two men collide to see if the Ironman is all talk and no walk. Both men have been informed.

 

 

European Title #1 Contendership Match

Insane Luchador vs. John Cougar vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. Mike Van Siclen

- In what is one hell of a clusterfuck booking, two veterans, a complete newbie and a relative newbie will face off in an extremely random match to crown another #1 contender for the European title.

 

 

MAIN EVENT

World Title CAGE~! Match

Renegade © vs. C.I.A. vs. "The Franchise" Mak Francis

- Exciting match stylez! None of these three men like each other. Renegade defeated C.I.A. in a brutal hell in a swimming match match to gain the belt, and C.I.A. and Francis have gone through a few wars themselves. Combine that with the fact that Renegade and Francis had a bit to say to each other earlier in the week, and it's a fair indication of what might happen...

[Guest Suicide King]

"Welcome back to SJL Metal at the Gund Arena!" Axis cries excitedly.

 

"Shouldn't you start thinking about switching him to decaf, Edwin?" the Suicide King says, jerking his head towards Axis.

 

"It's not about coffee," Edwin replies. "It's about Kool-Aid. Here, have some!" The King shies away from the proferred neon-colored liquid.

 

"Our 'Quality Over Quantity' show continues!" Axis continues. "With Fugue, the deranged musician, facing Cutthroat, The Extreme One, for a shot at the SJL Television Title!" The camera takes a moment to pan over the audience, catching for posterity all the fascinatingly pithy witticisms that wrestling fans are so good at making up.

 

Then eerie strains of music suddenly pierce the air. The arena plunges into darkness, only to be illuminated by epileptic white strobes. An ear-shattering boom and a flash of pyro, and "Ashes in the Fall" pulses from the speakers. The lights reveal Fugue sauntering down the metal ramp towards the ring, black trenchcoat billowing around him, black glasses scanning the jeering audience.

 

"Fugue's got his game face on, as always!" the King says.

 

"Well, I heard the sWo was beaten up in a barroom brawl before the show!" Edwin says, grinning.

 

"Oh? Well, it doesn't look like anyone got any hits on Fugue," the King returns. "Nothing like a good barroom brawl for a warmup!"

 

"The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall," Funyon booms into his microphone. "And it is an SJL TV Title #1 Contendership Match! Making his way to the ring from Philadelphia, PENNsylvaniaaa...weighing in at 181 pounds, FUGUE!" Fugue slips under the bottom rope, rolling to his feet in the ring. He takes off his coat to reveal a stylized drawing of a television on his shirt...the letters 'sWo' displayed on the screen. Fugue finally pulls off his sunglasses and grins at the audience, eyes glittering.

 

"Television Title #1 Contendership Match?" the King scoffs. "Does anyone even care about that thing any more? You should abolish it, Edwin!"

 

Edwin snorts. "If I decide we don't need that title any more, it certainly won't be because YOU say so!"

 

Fugue carefully wraps his trenchcoat up and leans down to let it fall outside the ring. Axis frowns. "Hmmm," he hmmms.

 

"What's up, my Australian amigo?" Edwin asks, leaving off his slap-fight with the King.

 

"I just thought I saw--nothing." Axis shakes his head. "No, never mind."

 

"And his opponent..." Funyon trails off as the lights go black again. The crowd comes to life as a rhythmic bass pulses from the SmarkTron speakers. A sudden flare of blue light streaks through the air and hits the stage, igniting an explosion of pyrotechnics. The arena glows blue as a thunderclap rocks the arena, Our Lady Peace's "Whatever" blasting from the speakers. And then a figure thrusts aside the curtain and steps into the light, greeted by deafening cheers from the audience.

 

"Now making his way to the ring from Greenwich, Connecticut," Funyon continues. "Weighing in at 214 pounds...CUTTHROAT!" Cutthroat slaps hands with the fans along the aisle as he strides toward the ring. Upon reaching the ring he slides under the bottom rope, turning and raising his hands in the air. The crowd roars in approval as Fugue watches from behind, still smiling.

 

"Ah, Cutthroat," the King says. "What would we do without you?"

 

Edwin blinked. "I didn't think you were that fond of the CT-man, King."

 

"Oh, of course I am. I always look forward to commenting his matches." The King grins. "Pointing out what a loser he is, laughing at his mistakes...it makes my whole week!" Edwin rolls his eyes.

 

Funyon clears quickly out of the ring, and the perennial Mike Kivell waves to the timekeeper.

 

DINGINGING!

 

The two combatants regard each other across the ring. Cutthroat begins to dance back and forth, grinning at his opponent, but Fugue stands serenely near a corner. Cutthroat suddenly dashes forward and begins throwing punches at the musician, to the delight of the crowd. Fugue brings his arms up to block and is pushed into the corner, the two men grappling for control. The hapless Kivell tries to pull the two apart, eventually separating them at arm's length. Both Cutthroat and Fugue hold their hands up to signal a clean break--then Fugue slips downward and lashes out with a kick to Cutthroat's chin. The Extreme One goes down and Fugue wastes no time in dragging him away from the corner.

 

"Fugue takes control with a cheap shot!" Axis exclaims.

 

"Oh, don't get so worked up over such a little thing," the King replies.

 

Fugue pulls Cutthroat by his leg to the center of the ring. He hops upward in a kneedrop--but Cutthroat rolls away, leaving Fugue to hit nothing but mat. The musician grins and hops to his feet...giving his knee a rub and nodding as if in satisfaction. Cutthroat crouches near the ropes, glaring at his opponent...and Fugue outstretches one hand, beckoning the Extreme One forward.

 

"Fugue tells Cutthroat to, as it were, Just Bring It!" Axis proclaims.

 

"Wait! WAIT!" Edwin shrieks. "You wanna bring the lawyers down on us?!? DON'T SAY THAT!" The King reaches over and smacks Axis for good measure.

 

Cutthroat pounced forward, fist whirling through the air--and Fugue ducks. He quickly grabs Cutthroat's other arm and falls backward, hauling Cutthroat to the mat. Cutthroat thrashes at his tormentor, breaking Fugue's hold before he can tighten it into an armbar. Fugue grapples again and the two men stand, locked together.

 

"Cutthroat knows the power of Fugue's devastating arm holds!" Axis comments.

 

"As do many other SJL wrestlers!" the King expounds.

 

"Not that they've actually WON him many matches," Edwin snickers.

 

Fugue pushes Cutthroat away, sending him running toward the ropes. The musician bounces off the opposite ropes and the two men charge each other. Cutthroat spins in a kick but Fugue ducks, continuing on to the ropes again. He rebounds and runs toward his opponent, only to meet a high dropkick from the high-flying Cutthroat.

 

"Incredible!" Axis marks. "Both these men are SO fast and skilled, and neither one of them wants to give an inch!"

 

Cutthroat regards the fallen Fugue, then raises his arms to the audience. The fans cheer wildly, a wall of noise crashing over the competitor. A big smile on his face, Cutthroat turns to face Fugue again--but the musician has recovered himself enough to lunge forward and grab Cutthroat's leg, spinning and dragging him face-first to the mat.

 

"'Cause you give Fugue an inch, he'll take a mile!" the King adds cheerfully. "Or perhaps--a Minor Chord!" Fugue scurries onto Cutthroat's back and grabs the Extreme One's left arm, slipping it between his legs. He grabs for Cutthroat's right arm but Cutthroat thrashes, dragging himself forward, his outstretched fingers just making the ropes. Kivell yells at Fugue, admonishing him to break the hold; the musician torques Cutthroat's arm between his legs for a count of three before releasing it and rolling away.

 

"Cutthroat was too close to the ropes for that hold to work very long!" Axis notes. "A mistake on the part of Fugue there!"

 

"That's one of the things that happens when you consider sanity an optional extra," Edwin also notes.

 

Fugue paces near the opposite ropes for a few moments as Cutthroat gets to his feet. He rubs his hands together, smiling up at the lights, then turns and faces his opponent once again. Cutthroat scowls and sets himself...then charges forward again. He twists his body and brings his foot up in a superkick--foot flashing by Fugue's face by a mere fraction of an inch as Fugue dodges. Almost instantly Cutthroat is leaping into the air to kick with his other leg--Fugue catches the blow on his arms as he blocks, but stumbles backward. Cutthroat rights himself and leaps forward to grab Fugue in a bearhug, the crowd coming alive as he arches back and throws Fugue behind him, both men falling to the mat.

 

"A beautiful belly-to-belly suplex by Cutthroat!" Axis cries. "He's ON tonight!"

 

"I knew he had it in him!" Edwin cheers. "Go, Cutthroat!" He waves a small flag with a stylized Cutthroat face on it.

 

The King stares at Edwin, then shakes his head. "I'm not even going to ASK..."

 

Fugue recovers quickly, stumbling to his feet. He lunges forward and grabs Cutthroat's arm, pulling himself up to wrap his legs around it. Cutthroat wriggles to the ropes, catching them with his feet. He strikes at Fugue's legs with his free arm, and Fugue releases before Kivell has counted two. Cutthroat pulls himself up again and aims a punch at his opponent--connecting with his face, then again. He grabs Fugue around the neck, pulling him into a sleeper in the center of the ring...then Cutthroat falls to the ground, slamming Fugue to the mat. Kivell slides down to count as Cutthroat lies on top of Fugue--One, Two and Fugue kicks out.

 

Fugue staggers to his feet, leaping back with a surprise charge at Cutthroat. He pummels Cutthroat in the stomach, then jumps into the air and slams his feet into The Extreme One's face. Cutthroat stumbles and goes down, and Fugue jumps forward in a kneedrop--only to have Cutthroat roll out of the way again. Cutthroat pulls himself up and aims a knee at Fugue's head, a sickening crack heard as bones come together. He grabs Fugue by the pants and snaps his body upward and back, Fugue somersaulting over and falling onto his back. The musician rolls away desperately, and both men take a moment to catch their breath.

 

"Fugue hits a dropkick, but Cutthroat comes back with a snap suplex!" Axis narrates. "What a match this is turning out to be!"

 

Fugue is the first to get to his feet, but Cutthroat is not far behind. Fugue's eyes are glazed as he rubs his head...then he catches sight of his opponent and charges blindly. Cutthroat, caught off guard, is pushed back into the ropes as Fugue shoulder-blocks him. Then Fugue picks Cutthroat up on his shoulders--turning to face the center of the ring and then leaping forward in a somersault, both men slamming to the mat on their backs. Kivell moves in to count but Fugue gets up, looking down at his opponent. He jumps up, coming down knee-first--but Cutthroat rolls to the side, then springs to his feet and deals a hard blow to Fugue's chest.

 

"Fugue went to the well once too often with that kneedrop!" Axis cries.

 

"Hah!" Edwin adds. "He COULD have gone for the cover, but noooo, he had to be all heelish!"

 

"Hey, can you blame the guy for wanting to beat up on Cutthroat?" the King asks. Edwin glowers at him.

 

Cutthroat backpedals, bouncing off the ropes and launching himself forward in a spear. Fugue goes down hard and tries to roll away but Cutthroat catches hold of him. Cutthroat pulls the musician up and grabs him around the waist, then hoists him up and back, both men slamming to the mat on their backs. The competitors struggle on the mat--the camera zooms in to reveal Fugue clutching at Cutthroat's neck.

 

"CHOKE!" Edwin cries. "Ref! That's an illegal hold!" The King leans back in his chair and laughs.

 

Kivell does indeed quickly pull Fugue off the larger man, and the musician slinks away, grinning. Cutthroat staggers to his feet, coughing and shaking his head, and Fugue lunges forward to take his opportunity. He grabs Cutthroat by the hair and pulls his head down, then takes hold of The Extreme One's waist and hoists him high up onto his shoulders. For a moment the two are frozen in position...then Fugue drops to a sitting position, pitching Cutthroat forward in a long fall to the mat. Kivell nervously slides down to count, One, Two and Cutthroat spasmodically kicks out!

 

"A sit-out powerbomb from Fugue!" Axis says. "Normally we don't see power moves from this small man, but he's got good strength for his size!"

 

Fugue quickly goes back to Cutthroat's arm, finally cinching his legs around it. Cutthroat desperately flails against his tormentor, aiming punches at Fugue's legs and stomach. The musician hangs on grimly, grin stretched in a rictus across his face. Jerking his entire body, Cutthroat makes it to the ropes and Kivell finally manages to dislodge Fugue from the hold.

 

"Fugue doesn't let up!" Axis narrates. "Does Cutthroat have anything left?"

 

"Of course he does!" Edwin returns. "He's fueled by the millions of Cutthroatholics in attendance here!"

 

Cutthroat stumbles to his feet, looking out at the audience...the fans responding with wild enthusiasm and encouragement. Shaking his head, Cutthroat turns and ducks a punch from Fugue. Connecting with a blow of his own Cutthroat doubles Fugue over, then leaps up and brings his leg down hard on Fugue's neck. He measures his opponent, waiting--and suddenly his fist flashes forward, connecting hard and fast with Fugue's jaw.

 

"The Razor Punch!" Axis yells over the roar of the crowd. "Cutthroat connects with the Razor Punch!"

 

Cutthroat raises his arms and yells in victory--but Fugue drops and rolls out of the ring. The crowd boos as the musician stumbles away...then begins to cheer again as Cutthroat hops over the ropes and pursues. Cutthroat rounds a corner and is met by Fugue chop-blocking his leg, sending both men down outside the ring. Kivell leans over and begins his count. One, Two...

 

"It's a dangerous world outside that ring!" Axis says. "I know none of us like those double count-outs, but they're a real possibility!"

 

Both the other announcers groan. "Oh, don't even mention that, Axis," Edwin replies.

 

Cutthroat gets to his feet and catches sight of Fugue slinking around the ring again. He jogs after Fugue, turning the corner--and leaps forward, ready for anything. Strangely enough, Fugue is nowhere to be seen. Confused, Cutthroat turns to the front row of fans, who are yelling and pointing behind him--just as Fugue dives out from under the ring and takes Cutthroat down again. The musician quickly slips into the ring again, ignoring Kivell's yelled queries about what he was doing, and jumps down again to finally land knee-first on Cutthroat's right arm. Kivell has no choice but to begin the count again as Cutthroat writhes in pain.

 

"I can't believe it!" Axis yells. "Fugue was under the ring?"

 

"This is supposed to be a WRESTLING match!" Edwin cries.

 

"That was fairly original," the King notes.

 

The two men stagger, trading blows, both reeling. More often than not, the punches swing wide, and Kivell is counting...Seven, Eight...Finally Fugue lands a shot to Cutthroat's stomach, stunning him. He wraps one arm around Cutthroat's head, grabbing his waist--and swings him up high, Cutthroat's legs smacking into Kivell as he leans over the ropes. Staggering, Fugue manages to shift Cutthroat in the air and sit down, sending The Extreme One crashing down onto the mats on his back.

 

"INCREDIBLE!" Axis screams. "An Orange Crush, outside the ring--knocking out the ref!"

 

"That sadistic bastard!" Edwin rages.

 

"Now *that's* some quality heel tactics," the King grins.

 

The arena is rocked with the sound of thousands of fans on their feet, as all three men lie writhing in pain. Finally Cutthroat and Fugue begin to stir, pushing themselves slowly to their feet. Fugue stands, then pauses--the camera following his gaze to catch sight of Fugue's trenchcoat lying on the mats. A twisted grin stretches across Fugue's face as he bends down and picks it up--the outline of some object visible, wrapped in the coat.

 

"Oh, no," Axis says. "What's Fugue doing here?"

 

"If he has something hidden there--" Edwin growls.

 

"Too bad the ref isn't in a position to see," the King comments.

 

Fugue turns, the black fabric hanging in the outline of a long, flat triangle. Cutthroat stumbles to his feet and turns to face Fugue, and the musician slams the coat against his opponent's forehead. Cutthroat stumbles, clutching his head, and Fugue strikes again, this time at the shoulder. Cutthroat tries to limp away but Fugue grabs him by the arm, cruelly wrenching it as he drags Cutthroat back into the ring and throws him to the ground.

 

"That's it! It's over!" the King says.

 

"Cutthroat! You still have a chance!" Edwin cries.

 

As if roused by the Commissioner's words Cutthroat pulls himself up to a crouch, catching Fugue's leg and holding on for dear life. Fugue stumbles, hopping on one foot, then retaliates with a sweeping kick to the back of Cutthroat's head with his free leg. Cutthroat reels and goes down, slumping face-first on the canvas. Lying on Cutthroat's back, Fugue slips his arms under his opponents and locks them together behind Cutthroat's head--then pushes himself upward and over, flipping forward into a bridge as he wrenches at Cutthroat's arms.

 

"It's the Major Chord!" Axis yells. "Another of Fugue's sadistic submission holds! There's nowhere to go for Cutthroat!"

 

"No!" Edwin yells.

 

"Yes!" the King yells.

 

Mike Kivell finally manages to rouse himself from his stupor...and quickly slithers over to peer at the entangled Cutthroat. Cutthroat cries out and nods desperately, and Kivell waves to the timekeeper.

 

DINGINGING!

 

"Your winner!" booms the ubiquitous Funyon. "By submission...FUUUUGUE!" Outraged boos wash over the ring as Kivell finally gets Fugue to release Cutthroat, pulling the dazed musician's arm up in victory. Fugue stumbles around the ring, grinning at the audience with glazed eyes. Then he falls to the mat, rolls, and slips under the ropes.

 

"A solid victory for Fugue!" Axis concludes. "He's still as dangerous as ever!"

 

"That disgusting, no, good, cheating--" Edwin grinds his teeth.

 

"Hey, what's going on?" the King suddenly asks.

 

Fugue rolls back into the ring--the wrapped-up coat in his arms. He gets to his feet, grinning at the referees check on the fallen Cutthroat. Fugue slowly unwraps the coat, pulling out two long, red bars joined by an intricate device of gleaming metal.

 

"Oh my GOD!" Axis cries. "The bolt cutters! Fugue's got those bolt cutters he had in the cage match!"

 

Fugue lunges forward, scattering the knot of referees as he swings the improvised weapon. Cutthroat looks up, his eyes wide, and scurries back as Fugue smacks the cutters against the mat. The Extreme One quickly rolls out of the ring, staggering toward the ramp.

 

"That's just sick!" Edwin snaps.

 

"An interesting development for Fugue here tonight," the King says, watching Fugue pose in the ring with the tool raised high over his head. Boos and jeers fill the arena, but flashbulbs flicker rapidly all the same.

 

"This has been an incredible night so far," Axis says, shaking his head as if to clear it. "And we're far from over! Stay tuned!"

[Guest Suicide King]

Part One:

 

As the latest commercial comes to a close, an SJL camera focuses on an iron wrought gate. “THIS MORNING” appears in the bottom corner of the scene, and then disappears within seconds. The walls extending from either side of the gate are of a red brick and at least seven feet tall. Past the ornately designed gate, a gravel drive winds through a few sloping hills, disappearing behind green humps intermittently. The shot zooms quickly along the path, making its way to a colossal brick building. A large oak tree stands to one corner of the old factory-converted-into-a-psychiatric-care-facility, shading the large graveled area that could be considered a parking lot. Only one car is parked there, a bright yellow Grand Marquis with “YELLOW TAXI” splashed along the side and a white light on top. The driver sits on the trunk of his cab, slowly smoking a cigarette.

 

The camera continues up the gravel path, up to a short flight of concrete stairs, and to the double doors of the ominous building. They both swing open, permitting entrance to the rest of the audience. Inside, the ward is brightly lit and very clean. In the entryway is a desk, behind that, some stairs lead up into the five levels of unknown. The secretary behind the front desk glances up. Her facial features are sullen and unsmiling. She simply points down the hall to her left and barks at the cameraman.

 

Lady: “Down tha hall, sec’n door on tha right.”

 

She immediately goes about her computerwork, assuming that the cameraman is smart enough to take in directions after one pass. Lucky for her, he is, and the scene travels down the corridor, passing closed office doors to the left, the right, and the left again. The fourth door the camera passes is open, and the shot turns, peering into the large office. The first things that come into view are the numerous framed certificates, awards, and degrees along the back wall of the office. A potted plant sits in the corner. In front of the massive desk are two leather chairs. One is occupied by a neatly dressed JL n00b, Kamikaze. The desk is mostly clear, with a computer monitor resting on one corner and a stack of papers on the opposite side. Behind the desk is an older gentleman with a thin mustache and even thinner white hair. Glasses rest precariously on the doctor’s small nose, which he pushes back up as he lounges in his reclining office chair.

 

Doc: “Now that the crew is here, we can start. Shouldn’t take long. Be sure to thank your boss for giving you this time off to see me. We’ve been more than happy with your progress, but we always like to keep an eye on our friends.”

Kam: “I will, Ned.”

Doc: “How is your job coming along?”

 

The doctor folds his hands over his rotund belly and tilts his head forward, looking at Kamikaze over the rim of his spectacles. The not-so-nutty-case also leans back in his chair, but continues to grip the arms of the chair.

 

Kam: “It’s great, doc. I won my first two matches. My debut was impressive according to some of my colleagues, but my second match could have used some work. I agree with the second half of that statement.”

 

Doctor Ned Nederlander nods and smiles.

 

Doc: “That’s good to hear, Kam. And what about your colleagues? Have you made any friends yet?”

Kam: “I’ve only been traveling with them for a few weeks now. I haven’t gotten the chance to really sit down and talk with any of the other guys. But I know that if I could, I’d make some quick friends.”

Doc: “Good, good. And what about Maria?”

 

Kamikaze freezes for an instant, but quickly recovers and nods to the doctor. His next sentence seems mechanical, driven into his head, memorized, staged.. not at all like the Kamikaze.. no one really knows.

 

Kam: “Maria is a figment of my imagination.”

 

The doctor shakes his head ever so slightly and leans forward, reaching for something on his desk. He grabs up a black pen and scribbles something on a legal pad. Kamikazes’ eyes glaze over for the few moments that the doctors’ eyes are focused on the pad. The doctor straightens and with a blink, Kam grins slightly, returning to this world once again.

 

Doc: “I think you’re doing just fine, Kam. Another few weeks and you’ll be good as new. This prescription will cover you until your next visit, and here..”

 

Ned pulls a drawer open underneath his desk and plucks a hundred-dollar bill from a tall stack of said bills. He lays the C-note and the prescription on the desk in front of Kamikaze.

 

Doc: “..This is for the cab. After our next visit, you should be able to drive again. How does that sound?”

Kam: “Very nice, doc. I’ve missed my old Bus.”

Doc: “Good. If you’ll just wait outside, I’ll write up my report and give you a copy for Mr. MacPhisto.”

 

Kam reaches forward, picking up the two pieces of paper. The smaller of the two, the prescription, is carefully placed in his shirt pocket, while the $100 bill is crushed in his fist. He stands with a nod to the doctor and squeezes past the cameraman, entering the hallway. A whistling sound is heard, to the tune of some catchy movie theme, as the camera watches Doctor Nederlander write his report. The doc shakes his head as Kam begins whistling, but continues to scribble his findings.

 

Doc: “That joke is so old..”

 

With flair, the doctor signs the note and then folds it three times. Ned pulls a sticker from a pad on a side table and affixes it to the loose end of the report. The metallic finish of the sticker-made-to-look-like-a-seal-of-authenticity flashes in the artificial lighting as the doctor offers the letter to the door.

 

Doc: “Kam, here’s the report, and you have a good day, now.”

 

The aspiring wrestler sticks his head around the doorway, then reaches an arm in and snatches the report from the doctor.

 

Kam: “I will, doc. You, too.”

 

Kamikaze smiles and retreats from the office. He folds the note in half and slides it into his back pocket. Kam then stuffs his hands into his pockets and heads for the doors. The camera backs out of Dr. Nederlander’s office and follows Kamikaze out the double doors and back into the sunlight. Kam skips down the stairs and heads for the taxi.

 

Kam: “Fifth?”

Cabbie: “Six.”

 

Kamikaze shakes his head and opens the back door, getting into the somewhat clean cab. The driver drops his sixth cigarette to the gravel and smothers the smoldering flame. This cab driver actually looks respectable, clean cut and shaven. He settles into the drivers’ seat and holds his hand open to the back. Kamikaze leans forward and drops the now-crumpled hundred-dollar bill into the driver’s hand.

 

Cabbie: “They sure cheap, ain’t they?

Kam: “Cheap, yeah.. And I didn’t diss you!”

Cabbie: “Look, you gonna have to kick your girl to the curb.”

Kam: “She won’t leave me alone!”

Cabbie: “Awwight, awwight. Back to Gund?”

[Guest Suicide King]

“Welcome back to SJL Metal, ladies and gentlemen!” bellows Axis above the din of the sold-out Gund Arena. The Illinois crowd roars as the camera swiftly pans around the audience, capturing a few of the wittier and more memorable signs on film:

 

”sWo fears Renegade!”

 

“sWo fears Canada!”

 

“sWo fears Kivell!”

 

”This Sign Is Being Held DOWN~!”

 

“We’re coming to you live from the Gund Arena, and what a show we have for you tonight! Tonight is Renegade’s last match in the SJL after receiving the call from the WF a few days ago. He’ll be competing in tonight’s main event- a triple threat cage match- against C.I.A. and the leader of the sWo, Mak Francis, for the richest prize in the game, the SJL World Heavyweight championship!”

 

”Axis, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” smirks the Suicide King. “Technically, the richest prize in the game you mentioned is the SWF World Heavyweight championship. I would know, since I held it, of course.”

 

Edwin MacPhisto smiles a decidedly unpleasant smile (as unpleasant as a Carnie can realistically make a smile, anyway,) at the King as he remove the SWF World title from around his waist. “What belt, Kingy? This belt?”

 

”Oh, you brought it with you! Let me touch it!”

 

”No, Kingy, I’m afraid you can’t. Lerrin Breggan wanted to touch the belt, too. Are you really, really SURE you want to touch the belt?”

 

”I’ll touch the goddamn belt and take whatever you can dish out, MacPhisto, provided you stop with that atrocious nickname.”

 

”Why, Kingy, whatever are you talking about?”

 

”You know exactly what I’m talking about, you dolt. And stop doing it.”

 

”I think he means he doesn’t want you to call him ‘Kingy’ anymore, Edwin.”

 

”Oh…well, sorry, Kingy. I can’t rightly do that. Bollocks, and all that, eh?”

 

The Suicide King buries his face in his hands in response, muttering a string of what we suppose are expletives, but can’t QUITE make them out. Really. We tried, but we couldn’t quite hear him. Honest.

 

“Anyway!” chirps the commissioner. “Up next, we have one of the SJL’s newest recruits, Tony “The Ironman” Brogan, who issued an open challenge on Crimson for a match tonight on Metal. Not exactly a careful plan, or a wise one, but more power to him for so readily taking what he’s going to get tonight.”

 

The lights in the arena suddenly dim, and a pounding drum beat sounds over the speakers.

 

“I….AM…IRON MAN!”

 

Black Sabbath’s “Ironman” hits the PA system hard, jolting the audience awake as footage of Brogan demolishing various opponents flickers across the screen, too fast to distinguish faces. The words “OH”, “MY”, “GOD,” “IRONMAN” are interspersed through a particularly brutal sequence where Brogan sends a rather large opponent overhead with a T-Bone Suplex and crashing head-first through a table.

 

“Quite a collection of impressive matches, it seems,” muses Axis as the music builds.

“Edwin, you sound as if Brogan’s loss is a foregone conclusion.”

 

”It is, Axis. Trust me. I know who’s going to call him out.”

 

Funyon interjects himself between the two commentators briefly as Tony Brogan makes his way out from behind the curtains, hands clenched, a microphone at his side.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first…hailing from Detroit, Michigan, and weighing in at two hundred fifty-seven pounds…”TONY “THE IRONMANNNN” BROOOGAAAAAANNNNN!!”

 

“What the hell do you mean, you know who he’s going to face tonight?” asks an incredulous Suicide King as Brogan makes his way down the ramp, getting a small pop in the process.

 

“Of course I know. I’m the commissioner. I had to sign the match, you dolt. And do shut up about the name-calling for a minute, I think Brogan has something to say.”

 

The camera zooms in on Brogan’s t-shirt, getting a tight shot of the words “Turning Heads by Breaking Necks” as the rookie raises the microphone to his lips.

 

“All right, people. I’ve got a lot of ass to kick and not a lot of time to do it. Whoever it is that wants to tap out or get knocked out, get your no-talent ass out here so I can get on with the show.” With those curt words, the Ironman tosses the microphone out of the ring, removes his shirt and tosses it aside, and begins to stretch himself using the ropes in preparation for his opponent, whoever it might be.

 

For a minute, there is near-total silence, only the dull murmur of the crowd as they speculate on who will accept the Ironman’s challenge.

 

Edwin MacPhisto sighs, seemingly resigned, looks down at the announcer’s table, and waits.

 

For a tense thirty seconds, nobody comes forward from the back, nobody moves…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…until “Retribution (Front 242 Remix) hits the speakers, and the Gund Arena is plunged into darkness.

 

“Oh, dear. Oh, my. Oh, shit,” squeals the Suicide King as the Silent One enters the arena through the cloud of white fog that has suddenly appeared at the top of the entrance ramp. “Brogan ran his mouth a little too long, Axis, and it looks like he’s called out none other than Silent to shut him up!”

 

”I told you he was going to lose,” mutters the crown prince of flash and panache as the Clansman makes his way to the ring apron, ignoring the insults and invective being hurled by the audience.

 

“This is hardly a fair contest!” yells Axis as Silent slowly climbs the onto the ring apron. “Brogan’s UFC background aside, he’s still a rookie in the SJL, and Silent is an absolute monster in that ring! He’s nearly crippled Cutthroat and Spike Jenkins both, and he may have very well put Sydney Sky on the shelf for good with that Ganso Bomb on Crimson! There’s no way Brogan can be prepared for this!”

 

The Silent One enters the ring, a dangerous smile on his face as “Retribution” fades out and the Gund Arena’s lights come back up. He hands his trenchcoat and cane to referee Eddy Long, who is substituting for a rather severely injured Matthew Kivell. Silent turns to the center of the ring, where Brogan stands waiting on him.

 

“Brogan doesn’t seem to be showing any fear at all, Axis. It’s as if he’s not intimidated by Silent in the slightest!”

 

”I think you’re right, King. I don’t know much about the UFC, but it has one hell of a reputation as a tough place to make a living. I don’t doubt that Brogan’s seen his share of tough guys in his career…but you have to wonder…does he really know what to expect from a man as bloodthirsty as Silent?”

 

Silent, his smile never leaving his face, bares his teeth at the Ironman and slowly, very slowly, draws his thumb across his throat, illustrating for the rookie what the Clansman plans on doing to him in a few very short moments…

 

“Let me answer that question for you, Axis,” says a solemn Edwin MacPhisto.

 

“The answer, Axis, is a definitive no.”

 

**DING DING**

 

“And here we go, ladies and gentlemen! Call me a skeptic, but I think that the Ironman is in for the fight of his life tonight!”

 

“Nobody doubts you there, Axis, myself least of all,” mutters MacPhisto as the two combatants stand nose-to-nose, neither one backing down. “I just want to see Brogan get out of this match in one piece. Lord knows we’ve lost enough JL talent in recent weeks without Mr. Murder and Mayhem here adding anybody else to the injured list.”

 

Silent guardedly raises his left arm, palm facing forward, offering a test of strength. With a small smirk of his own, Brogan raises his arms to meet his opponent’s.

 

Their hands move closer…closer…closer…and as soon as they lock, both men heave their shoulders against one another, each looking for some advantage, some sign of weakness in the other. For a moment, the two men are evenly matched…then, ever so slowly, Tony Brogan begins to push the Silent One backwards! A grunt of effort escapes the Clansman’s lips as he fights back, but Brogan has too much leverage already, and he soon has Silent bridging onto his neck in order to keep his shoulders off the mat!

 

“An impressive display of strength by the Ironman!” pipes Edwin, pleasantly surprised by Silent’s failure to dominate the test of strength. The crowd is getting firmly behind Ironman as he drives his knees into Silent’s exposed abdomen, trying to force a pin, but the Silent One holds the bridge, ignoring the painful knee strikes being rained down by Brogan.

 

“Well, this is certainly a surprise. Silent usually has the strength advantage in his matches, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here.”

 

”Perhaps this Brogan character is a little tougher than you though, hmmm, Edwin?”

 

“Anything is possible, Kingy. Anything except you making more than two intelligent statements in a row.”

 

“You know, I don’t appreciate that.”

 

”What, the burn you just felt? I imagine you wouldn’t.”

 

As the Ironman readies himself for another knee strike, Silent suddenly pushes upward, the muscles in his arms and upper back straining valiantly as he slowly but surely forces the rookie back up to a vertical base. For a moment, the two athletes are even again…then, Silent starts to force Brogan backwards. The Silent One pushes back…back…back…and he can only push so far, for Brogan stops halfway to the ground and quite literally SHOVES the Silent One away from him. The crowd applauds as Silent stumbles back, clearly surprised by the strength of the Ironman.

 

“The crowd is getting firmly behind Ironman early in this matchup…”

 

”Question, Axis. Do these fans like Tony Brogan, or do they just REALLY hate Silent?”

 

 

“Edwin…I’ll…have to get back to you on that one.”

 

Silent circles the Ironman, who stands stone-still in the center of the ring, his hands clenching and unclenching as he follows the Clansman with his eyes. Facing his opponent once more, Silent again raises his arms-though a little more tentatively this time. Brogan, not quite sure why Silent would want another test of strength, raises his arms as well…and is rewarded with a lightning-fast roundhouse to the side of the head! Silent’s boot slaps hard against his temple, and Tony Brogan stumbles back into the ropes…but he does not fall.

 

“Good Lord, Axis, did you see that kick? Silent’s put much larger men than Brogan out of commission with shots like those, but the Ironman doesn’t seem the slightest bit phased!”

 

“Well, King, we do know that Brogan has experience in the UFC. I imagine he takes blows to the head like that as a matter of course, don’t you?”

 

”I’m sure he does, Axis, I’m sure he does, but all the same…ouch, you know?”

 

The Silent One and the Ironman circle each other, both a little more certain of the others’ capabilities. Edwin laughs as the two men meet in the center of the ring and go into a collar-and-elbow tie-up. “King, if one little kick to the face is enough to make you squeamish, I think you may want to excuse yourself to the back while these two friendly individuals go to town on each other.”

 

Silent quickly snatches a headlock out of the collar-and-elbow and takes Brogan down to the mat, looking to gain an early advantage. Brogan takes hold of Silent’s left arm with both hands and forcibly breaks the headlock, countering it with a hammerlock as he flips swiftly around to Silent’s back. The Clansman attempts to counter with a leg lock, but Brogan wisely shifts his body to Silent’s right, preventing Silent from locking the rookie’s knee with his legs.

 

Instead, Silent rises to his knees with visible effort, places one foot on the mat, then the other, and makes it to his feet; Brogan, for his part, maintains the hammerlock the entire time. Suddenly, Silent turns to his right and pushes back against Brogan’s hammerlock, abruptly reversing the pressure and turning it into a wristlock. Using the leverage provided by the hold, Silent easily forces the Ironman back, back, back…and then sweeps Brogan’s legs out from under him, forcing Brogan to bridge upwards with his neck to avoid a pinning predicament, just as the Clansman was moments ago.

 

“A very subtle game of one-upsmanship being played here, both men using basic holds to gain small advantages here and there, getting a feel for each other’s strengths and weaknesses. This looks like it could be a much more competitive match than we originally thought, Edwin.”

 

The Ironman grunts as Silent leaps into the air and drives his knees into his exposed thighs. “That’s true, Axis. So far, it seems that Brogan’s shootfighting background has allowed him to keep the pace with Silent on the mat. If the match stays this ground-based, which wouldn’t surprise me, I think either man has a legitimate shot at winning.”

 

The Clansman leaps off of Brogan for a brief moment before slamming into him again with a pair of knee strikes. The effect of each strike is clearly visible on Brogan’s strained visage, but he holds the bridge steadily, frustrating the Silent One to no end as the Illinois crowd begins to rally behind the rookie. As the crowd claps faster and cheers longer, Silent grows more and more agitated, slamming knee after knee after vicious, well-aimed knee into the legs and ribs of his opponent, but the Ironman refuses to budge. Letting out a roar of anger, the Clansman vaults into the air once again, looking to catch his opponent with another pair of knee strikes…

 

…but Brogan drops from the bridge and rolls out of the way, and Silent connects with nothing but canvas! Before Silent can react, the Ironman breaks the knuckle lock and rolls behind the larger man. He pinions Silent’s left arm back, yanks his neck into place, and locks on a Dragon Sleeper Clutch, wrapping his legs around Silent’s ribs to increase the already considerable pressure!

 

“Iron Maiden! Tony Brogan has the Iron Maiden locked in!” hollers the big Australian, and the crowd is on their feet in anticipation. Silent, aware the danger as well as his position, quickly rolls to his right and extends his free arm to grasp the ropes.

 

“Impressive ring awareness on Silent’s part!” smirks the Suicide King.

 

”And equally impressive ring awareness from Brogan, as well, if you’re paying attention…”

 

Sure enough, before Eddy Long can force a break, the Ironman releases his leg scissors to drag Silent back into the center of the ring! Sensing Silent’s resistance to the ‘Maiden, Brogan elects to change tactics. He keeps ahold of the Clansman’s left arm, but instead of going for his trademark Dragon Sleeper a second time, the shooter falls back and wraps his legs around the Silent One’s neck, cinching in a Triangle Lock.

 

“The Triangle Lock is a particularly damaging hold, and a wise choice by Brogan,” notes Axis as Silent struggles to inch his way towards the ropes. “A Triangle Lock quickly cuts off the air supply to the rest of the body, making it an extremely difficult hold to counter. Brogan’s got to keep a step ahead of his opponent here and keep him on the ground, where the Ironman’s shooter background seems to have given him a decided advantage so far.”

 

Silent finally manages to hook the bottom rope with his left leg, and Eddy Long immediately tells Brogan to break the hold. The rookie wisely holds on until the referee’s four-count before breaking the hold and rolling backwards into a wrestling stance in the middle of the ring. The Clansman stands, holding his throat and gasping for breath, and the crowd rallies firmly behind the rookie as the Silent One approaches Brogan once more.

 

“IR-ON MAN! IR-ON MAN! IR-ON MAN! IR-ON MAN!”

 

“Listen to that crowd! Illinois is rallying behind Tony Brogan in a very big way, Edwin!”

 

“Shut up, Axis. They don’t really like Brogan; they just really hate Silent, that’s all. Edwin said it himself just a few moments ago.”

 

”Awwww, is Kingy-wingy fweeling a widdle jwealous-wellous?”

 

“Edwin, how many times did Breggan drop you on your head Monday?”

 

“Too damn many, if you saw the footage.”

 

”Hmmm. Duly noted.”

 

The Ironman dashes towards Silent, looking to catch the bigger man off his guard with a well-timed lariat, but the Clansman sees it coming and grabs hold of the rookie’s outstretched arm and pulls him forward, countering the lariat with a quick arm drag. As Brogan falls, Silent holds onto his arm and throws his legs over Brogan’s extended left shoulder, trying to cinch in an armbar, but Brogan senses the danger even before he hits the mat and locks both his hands together, preventing the Silent One from fully extending his arm.

 

“Excellent counter by Brogan, preventing Silent from hyper-extending his elbow with that armbar!” says Axis as the Ironman quickly shuffles over to the ropes, hooking the bottom rope with his left foot and forcing Silent to break the hold. The Clansman doesn’t even bother holding on to his ineffectual armbar past the two-count, thanks to Brogan’s counter. Instead, he grabs a handful of Brogan’s hair and yanks him to his feet. The Silent One bends the rookie forward with an arm wrench before whipping him across the ring, to ropes on the opposite side.

 

The Clansman drops to his stomach as Tony Brogan comes ricocheting off the ropes. The shooter leaps deftly over him…and pulls up short of the ropes as Silent begins to get to his feet. “Wait a minute, Brogan pulled up short, and I don’t think Silent knows it!” yells the Suicide King as the Silent One turns around, expecting to leapfrog over his opponent…but he’s met instead with a vicious arm across his throat, dropping him to the mat like the proverbial ton of bricks!

 

”Powerful lariat form the Ironman, and now the first pinfall of the match!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

“Silent kicks out with authority, a statement in and of itself regarding his stamina and tenacity after that vicious clothesline from Brogan! The raw strength the Ironman has displayed so far in this matchup is nothing short of phenomenal for a man his size!”

 

“I have to concur, Axis, though I’d be doing so against my better judgment. That was one of the hardest lariats I’ve ever seen.”

 

”I agree. Can we get a replay of that? Slow motion?”

 

”No, Kingy. Just watch the match.”

 

”I told you not to call me that.”

 

”And he told you to shut up. Now both of you stop acting like four-year-olds and help me call this match.”

 

”But Edwin started it.”

 

”I don’t care.”

 

Before Silent can get to his feet, Brogan leaps up from the canvas and plants himself squarely on the bigger man’s chest. “Brogan’s got the mount! This doesn’t look too good for Silent!” yells Axis, and sure enough, the Ironman begins raining down hard left and right hands on the Silent One’s unprotected face. The Illinois crowd rallies behind Brogan for the second time tonight as Silent raises his arms to protect his battered face, but the rookie will not be denied as he begins to pummel his opponent’s exposed ribs instead!

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Silent manhandled like this!” exclaims Edwin as the Clansman searches in vain for an escape from the Ironman’s onslaught. “He’s not being manhandled, it only looks that way!” quips a nervous Suicide King. “Silent’s got a plan, I promise you. He always has a plan. He’s a plan-having sort of person.”

 

”Shut up, Kingy.”

 

Silent tentatively extends his left arm, looking for the ropes in an attempt to break the mount, but the Ironman punishes the Silent One with a snap jab to the inside of his elbow! Silent’s arm recoils lightning-quick, and Eddy Long looks almost ready to stop the match…but Silent abruptly rolls all his weight to the right, throwing Brogan unexpectedly out of the mount position. Before the rookie can react, Silent hooks his left leg around Brogan’s right shin and rises to his knees, placing all his weight on his right leg. Brogan lets out a yell of surprise as Silent cinches the Indian Death Lock a little tighter, buying himself valuable time to gather his wits.

 

“Innovative counter maneuver by the Silent One, and he looks to have slowed down the pace of this match somewhat, at least for the moment. But you have to wonder-with the dominance that Tony Brogan has shown on the mat so far, what else does Silent have in his repertoire that can overcome the Ironman?”

 

“That’s a very good question, Axis. I’ve often said that Silent is a very versatile wrestler, and he’s able to adapt to any given style, provided he has enough time to do so. However, I don’t think that Tony Brogan is going to give him that time. I think that barring a rookie mistake on the Ironman’s part, we could very well see an upset win in this match, and see it very soon.”

 

As Axis and Edwin MacPhisto debate the possible outcome of the match, Silent slowly bridges back, back, and still farther back, until he can reach both his arms around Tony Brogan’s face and apply an inverted facelock, maintaining the Indian Death Lock at the same time. A scattering of “Oohs” and “Ahs” can be heard through the arena as Silent applies the innovative submission hold.

 

”That right there, Edwin, is why Silent’s going to win this match,” smirks the Suicide King. “No matter how good a shoot fighter this ‘Ironman’ character may be, he can’t compete with the Silent One when it comes to straight-out wrestling. I highly doubt that the rookie is going to be able to formulate a counter for a combination Indian Death Lock and STF, and that means he’s not going anywhere unless Silent wants him to.”

 

“Actually, King,” replies Edwin, “That hold is called a Bridging Death Lock.”

 

“Look, you prancing little Carnival bastard, I’m the submissions expert at this table, and I say it’s an Indian Death Lock STF.”

 

“You? A submissions expert? Name the last match you won via submission.”

 

”Look…I watch a lot of All-Japan tapes, all right? I’ll answer your questions once we’re off the air.”

 

”Ladies, please,” grins the larger-than-life Australian as Silent releases his hold on the Ironman in the ring. “The move, when called CORRECTLY, is an Indian Death Lock with a bridging inverted facelock. Are the two of you satisfied yet?”

 

“Thanks, Axis.”

 

”Thank you, Axis.”

 

The camera catches the SJL commissioner in the act of sticking his tongue out at the Suicide King before cutting back to the ring, where Silent is stomping away on the chest and ribs of Tony Brogan. The referee, after admonishing Silent twice, forcibly pushes him away from the Ironman, earning him a murderous glare from the Clansman. Brogan sits up, somewhat dazed, and Silent pushes past Eddy Long and lands an elbow drop squarely between the rookie’s shoulder blades before grabbing a quick sleeper hold and dropping to his stomach, forcing Brogan onto the mat with him.

 

Axis seems somewhat dubious of Silent’s choice of tactics. “Silent gained a brief respite from the Ironman with that death lock, but I’m not sure how wise it is for the Clansman to be taking the rookie to the mat when Brogan has showed so much dominance there so far.”

 

”It’s a matter of pride with him, Axis,” notes the commissioner. “He came down to the ring with the intention of beating Tony Brogan within an inch of his life-maybe a little shorter. But Brogan’s stepped up to the plate, and now Silent wants to prove that he can out-wrestle the man, instead.”

 

“Well, of course he can out-wrestle him. I mean, he’s a frickin’ rookie, guys. I don’t care what kind of…oh, wait a minute!” The Suicide King stops in mid-sentence as the Ironman rolls over top of his opponent and out of the sleeper hold. Brogan grabs hold of Silent’s left arm and locks it behind his back, reaches around his neck with his free hand, and locks in the Iron Maiden to a rather large pop from the Gund Arena! Unable to power out of the Maiden from a prone position, the Clansman rolls his body to the right and barely, just barely hooks the bottom rope with his boot, prompting a wave of boos to echo through the building.

 

“That’s the second time in the last five minutes that Brogan has locked the Iron Maiden in! How many times can Silent expect the ropes to save him?”

 

”Calm down, Axis. It’s going to take more than a run-of-the-mill Dragon Sleeper to put Silent away, even if it does have a cheesy name.”

 

The Clansman climbs to his feet, a little slower than before, as Eddy Long forces the Ironman to back away. Using the ropes, Silent pulls himself up and stumbles slightly towards the center of the ring. Brogan, sensing weakness, charges forward, arm outstretched for another devastating lariat…but Silent ducks, hooks his arm behind Brogan’s shoulder, and sweeps the rookie’s legs out from underneath him, dropping him to the mat with an STO!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR…Brogan barely kicks out in time, and the fans breathe a sigh of relief as Silent shares some tense words with the referee, slamming his palm against the mat for emphasis. “Brogan got greedy there and deviated from his mat-based strategy,” observes Edwin, “And if Silent can capitalize on that mistake, it may end up costing the Ironman the match…”

 

The Silent One grabs a handful of Brogan’s hair and pulls him to his feet, cinches him up, and snaps him up and over with a quick snap suplex. Holding onto Brogan’s tights, he pulls the rookie to his feet again, grabs hold of his left leg, and takes him up and over once more, this time with a capture suplex. The Illinois crowd boos heartily in response, and Silent draws his thumb slowly across his throat, signaling to the Gund Arena that the end is near for Tony Brogan.

 

“Silent seems to be setting up for the third and final part of his ‘Breaking Points’ suplexes…”

 

The Clansman pulls a stunned Brogan to his feet and readies himself for a head-and-arm suplex…but Brogan counters with a desperate pair of elbow strikes, sending the Silent One reeling and releasing the rookie from the hold. Both men stumble back from each other, Brogan towards the center of the ring, Silent towards the ropes. Angered by the Ironman’s counter, the Silent One charges forward for a Roaring Elbow…but is instead thrown clear across the ring by Tony Brogan!

 

”Brogan saw that elbow come from a mile away, and what a spectacular belly-to-belly suplex that was!” yells MacPhisto as the rookie pulls Silent to his feet and applies a full-nelson…

 

“DRAGON SUPLEX! DRAGON SUPLEX!” yells Axis, and the fans are on their feet as Silent’s head bounces sickeningly off the canvas. Brogan crawls as fast as he can over to the Clansman, rolls him over, and covers…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

NO!

 

“Silent BARELY kicked out of that! How much more does he have in the tank?”

 

”Not too much, Axis! Not too much at all!”

 

The Ironman stands over a semi-conscious Silent, the cheers of the crowd almost deafening as he grabs a handful of Silent’s hair and pulls him upwards. “Tap out or pass out, bitch!” yells Tony Brogan over the din of the Illinois fans as he cinches up the Silent One for a devastating Exploder suplex…

 

…But Silent jerks his knee upwards, and the Ironman suddenly doubles over in pain!

 

“Low blow! That dastardly Silent just went downstairs on the Ironman!”

 

“Prove it, MacPhisto! The referee didn’t see it? Then, it didn’t happen!”

 

The referee looks at both wrestlers quizzically as Silent quickly applies a standing headscissors, wraps his arms around Brogan’s waist, and lifts him into the air! The ring mikes pick up a very faint “See you in hell, rookie!” from the Clansman as he extends Brogan’s arms…and SLAMS him headfirst into the canvas!

 

“Falling From Grace!” yells Axis as Silent makes the cover.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

”That’s got to be it!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

**DING DING**

 

“Your winner via pinfall…SIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

 

”Retribution (Front 242 Remix)” hits the speakers, drowning out a rather loud chant of “BULL-SHIT!” from the fans, as the Silent One rolls out of the ring, snatches his coat and cane from one of the ring attendants, and heads up the ramp, wincing noticeably and holding his neck. The Ironman lies in the ring, trying to get to his feet with the assistance of Eddy Long, as Silent’s music continues to flood the arena.

 

“Silent emerges victorious over the Ironman in his debut match, but not without a hell of a fight from Tony Brogan and a well-timed low blow from the Clansman!”

 

”Oh, right, Axis. The referee didn’t call anything, did he? Where’s your proof, huh?”

 

”Excuse me, Axis…how about we get one of those slow-motion replays that Kingy seems to be so fond of?”

 

”MacPhisto, this is an A-B conversation, so see your way out of it.”

 

”Oh, tag. That was rather a clever one…Kingy.”

 

”Stop that.”

 

”Kingy.”

 

“Stop it.”

 

”…Kingy!”

 

”AXIS!”

 

The big Australian sighs, resigned to an evening of babysitting his two companions. “Stay tuned, folks! We’re drawing ever close to tonight’s main event! Renegade, CIA, and Mak Francis! A triple threat match-inside of a steel cage! Don’t miss out tonight, on SJL Metal!”

 

We break for a commercial.

[Guest Suicide King]

(The camera’s return to the announcer’s table, where Axis, Edwin, and King, who is oddly looking up into space. Axis and Edwin turn to him, but quickly turn back to the camera, trying not to notice.)

 

Edwin: And we are back. Up next we got a…DAMNIT, What are you doing?

 

King: Nothing….

 

Edwin: You must be doing something.

 

King: No, I don’t have to be doing something.

 

Edwin: Yes you do.

 

King: Ummmm No.

 

Edwin: Yes….

 

Axis: What an intelligent conversation….

 

King: You stay out of this, you hippie.

 

Axis: Hippie?

 

Edwin: You are…dumb.

 

King: No, I’m not.

 

Edwin: Yes, you are.

 

King: No

 

Edwin: Yes

 

King: No

 

Edwin: Yes

 

King: No

 

Edwin: Yes

 

King: No

 

Edwin: YES, END OF DISCUSSION….

 

King: No. I win.

 

Edwin: Anyway…. up next, we got a four way dance to crown another number one contender to the European title.

 

King: Why do we need TWO Number ONE contenders?

 

Edwin: Because I WANT TWO.

 

King: But why?

 

Edwin: Because I DO.

 

King: But why?

 

Edwin: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. Anyway….

 

(The lights over the arena go out, as “Head Like A Hole” by Nine Inch Nails starts to play. Dark Red lights start flashing over the arena, as Johnny Cougar walks out from behind the entrance curtain.)

 

Funyon: This match is scheduled for One Fall to Crown another Number One Contender to the SJL European Title! First, coming to the ring, in his SJL debut, from Vancouver, British, Columbia, weighing in at Two Hundred Thirty Seven pounds…Johnny Cougar!!!

 

(Johnny Cougar walks down the ramp and up to the ring. Cougar slides under the bottom rope into the ring, and quickly rises to his feet. Cougar walks over to a corner, and steps up onto the middle rope, throwing both his arms in the air, posing for the crowd. Cougar steps down off the ropes, as “Dig” by Mudvayne starts up.)

 

Funyon: Coming to the ring, weighing in at One Hundred Ninety Five Pounds, from Easton, Pennsylvania!!!! Innnnnnnnnnnnnnnsane Luchadoooooooooooooooooooooooor!!!!!!!!!

 

(The lights go out, only to come back on. Insane Luchador steps out from behind the entrance curtain, and stands on the top of the ramp, as black sparks fall from the top of the arena. The sparks stop falling, as Insane Luchador walks down the ramp. Red pyro shoot up from both sides of Insane Luchador, soon turning black. Insane Luchador walks past the pyro and up to the ring. Insane Luchador slides under the bottom rope, and pulls himself to his feet using the ropes. Insane Luchador walks to a corner, and leans up against it, waiting for his opponents. Suddenly, the arena lights turn green, and the whole arena is green. The beginning of “Peace Not Greed” by the Kottonmouth Kings slowly starts up, as the crowd starts cheering.)

 

Funyon: Coming to the ring, weighing in a Two Hundred and Twenty Pounds, from Hollywood, California…”Hollywood” Spike Jenkins!!!

 

(After several seconds, as the chorus of “Peace Not Greed” starts playing, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins walks out from behind the entrance curtains, in his usual light green baggy khaki’s, and a black “I Heart Porn stars” tank top on. “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins starts walking down the entrance ramp, posing for the crowd, when green pyro shoots off in the background, scaring everyone, including Hollywood. Hollywood stumbles forward, and turns back to the pyro. Hollywood turns back to the ring, and the camera catches him mouth the words “Holy Shit…” Hollywood walks up to the ring, and jumps from the floor to the apron. Hollywood grabs the top rope, and springboards his way into the ring, doing a roll, and jumping up onto his feet in the middle of the ring. Hollywood starts dancing in the middle of the ring, as his music continues playing. The lights in the arena turn from green to blue, as “Natural High” by The Union Underground starts up. The crowd starts booing, as “The Amazing” Mike Van Siclen walks out from behind the entrance curtain.)

 

Funyon: Coming to the ring, weighing in at Two Hundred Thirty Seven pounds, from Harrison, Illinois, representing the s…. W…. o, “The Amazing” Mike Van Siclen.

 

(Funyon quickly leaves the ring, as MVS walks up to the ring. MVS slides into the ring under the bottom rope, and hops up to his feet. MVS jumps up and down, doing his 360* spin while pointing at himself.)

 

Edwin: Now this should be a classic.

 

King: You don’t think Mikey Boy can win this do you?

 

Edwin: I never said that…

 

King: Sure you did.

 

Edwin: No I did not.

 

King: Yes you did. All because he is in the sWo.

 

Edwin: Speaking of the sWo, who could the new member be?

 

King: Why are you changing the subject?

 

Edwin: King, just…shut up.

 

(All four men stand in their respectful corners. They all eye each other, looking over one another.)

 

* Ding * Ding * Ding *

 

(All four men walk out of their corners, and into the center of the ring. IL and MVS are staring at each other, as Hollywood and Cougar look on. Suddenly, IL and MVS start screaming at each other.)

 

King: What the hell are they doing?

 

Axis: I have no idea….

 

(For no reason what so ever, Hollywood gets next to them, and starts screaming at them. Before you know it, MVS, IL, and Hollywood are screaming at each other.)

 

Edwin: This is getting weird…

 

(After awhile, Cougar decides to get in. Cougar starts screaming and yelling at IL, MVS, and Hollywood, but none of them pay any attention to him. Cougar starts jumping around, making a circle around the three, and waving his arms in the air, trying to get their attention.)

 

King: HAHAHHA.

 

Edwin: This is messed up. What is going on?

 

(After awhile of this, they all turn their attention to Cougar, who starts shouting at them. MVS, IL, and Hollywood just look at each other, and then turn to Cougar. Cougar looks at them, finally realizing whom he has been yelling at. They are all standing in a little diamond shape, with IL and Hollywood facing each other, and Cougar and MVS facing each other. Cougar stares at all three of the men in front of him for them to move. Hollywood and IL look at each other, and without warning, both throw their legs out, and kick Cougar right across the chest. As quick as before, they both throw there arms out, and chop MVS across the chest. They both quickly kick Cougar across the chest again, and chop MVS across the chest. They give Cougar another quick kick to the chest, and another chop to MVS. They throw their leg out again, and kick Cougar in the face, knocking him to the mat. They both turn back to MVS, and give him another chop, which knocks him to the mat.)

 

Edwin: Whoa.

 

Axis: Hollywood and Insane Luchador just annihilated Cougar and Mike. And only in the opening minutes of the match.

 

(Hollywood and IL look at each other, and Hollywood throws two quick right and lefts at IL, but IL uses his wrists to block it. Hollywood holds his arms out, and slams them together, trying to sandwich IL’s head in between them, but IL catches his arms, and hold them together (Al Snow’s under hook head BUTT thingy). IL holds Hollywood by the arms, and slams his knee into Hollywood’s side. Hollywood retaliates, by kneeing IL in the knee. MVS makes it to his feet, and charges at IL and Hollywood. IL lets go ONE of Hollywood’s arm, and they go for a double clothesline to MVS, but MVS ducks under it, and continues into the ropes. While MVS runs into the ropes, IL attempts to kick Hollywood in the ribs, but Hollywood blocks it with his knee. IL and Hollywood switch arms, as MVS comes running back, and attempt another double clothesline, but MVS ducks under it again, and continues running into the ropes. While MVS runs into the ropes, Hollywood attempts to kick IL in the ribs, but IL blocks it with his knee. IL and Hollywood switch arms again, as MVS comes running back, but MVS dives into the air, and hits his own double clothesline, breaking IL and Hollywood apart, and knocking them to the mat.)

 

Axis: Incredible display by Insane Luchador and Hollywood. They showed their skills off to everyone.

 

King: And don’t forget about Mike. No matter how much Edwin does.

 

Edwin: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

 

(MVS gets to his feet, but is met by Cougar, giving him a quick kick to the gut. Cougar grabs MVS by the hair, and quickly throws his arm under MVS’ chest, and European Upper cutting MVS, knocking him to the mat. IL gets to his feet quickly, and steps over to Cougar, throwing his arm across his chest, chopping Cougar to the mat. Hollywood quickly gets to his feet, and walks over to IL, throwing his leg into the air, kicking IL in the side of the head, knocking him to the mat. Hollywood walks around the ring, posing for the crowd, when MVS gets to his feet, and charges at Hollywood, knocking him to the mat with a clothesline. All four men crawl/walk into a corner, and look over each other.)

 

Axis: These four men are not out just to win; they are out to put on a show for these fans.

 

King: What the hell? Of course they are out here to win. What is the matter with you?

 

(All four men slowly start walking towards the center of the ring. They all walk up to each other, eyeing each other one by one, when from out of nowhere, IL, Hollywood, and Cougar jump MVS, knocking him to the ground. IL, Hollywood, and Cougar start stomping on MVS, as he tries to cover himself.)

 

Edwin: They all attacked Mike like a pack of dogs.

 

King: And you like that?

 

Edwin: You are really starting to piss me off.

 

(Cougar and Hollywood lift MVS up to his feet. Cougar and Hollywood whip MVS across the ring into the ropes. MVS bounces off the ropes, and comes running back, but gets a dropkick by IL. MVS hits the mat hard, as Hollywood walks over to him. Hollywood leaps into the air, doing a 180* spin, and dropping his leg down onto MVS’ chest.)

 

Axis: 420 Leg Drop.

 

Edwin: If this alliance between Insane Luchador, Hollywood, and John Cougar keeps going, Mike will be out of this match for good.

 

King: And you would like that.

 

Edwin: I would like for you to shut up.

 

King: And for Mike to lose this match for the sWo.

 

Edwin: SHUT UP!

 

(Back in the ring, IL and Hollywood are holding each of MVS’ legs, while looking at Cougar. Cougar runs towards the ropes. Cougar jumps on the middle rope, and springboards back doing a moonsault, and coming down, dropping his leg down onto MVS, but IL and Hollywood pull MVS out of the way, and Cougar hits the mat.)

 

King: Insane Luchador and Hollywood just double-crossed John Cougar. That is SMART.

 

(Cougar sits in the spot he landed in, in pain, as Hollywood and IL walk over to him. IL gives Cougar a quick, stiff kick to his back, getting a loud POP sound to echo through the arena. Hollywood looks at IL, and then gives him a slight push.)

 

Hollywood: THAT’S NOT HOW YOU DO IT!

 

(Hollywood backs up, and gives Cougar a quick, stiffer kick to the back. Cougar holds his back in pain, as IL pushes Hollywood back.)

 

IL: NO, IT’S LIKE THIS!

 

(IL steps back, and gives Cougar an even harder kick to the back. Cougar stands on his knees holding his back in pain. Hollywood lifts Cougar up to his feet, and pushes him back into the corner. Hollywood grabs Cougar around the waist, and lifts him up onto the top turnbuckle, so Cougar is facing the ring, sitting on the top rope. Hollywood looks at IL.)

 

Hollywood: Watch this.

 

(Hollywood throws his arm across Cougar’s chest, giving him a chop causing the crowd to go ‘Whoooo.” IL walks up to the corner, and gives Cougar a chop across the chest, getting another “Whoooo” from the crowd. Hollywood and IL just look at each other, before MVS comes up from behind them, grabbing them both by the back of their heads, and slamming both of the heads together.)

 

Axis: Ouch.

 

(Hollywood and IL fall over, landing on the mat hard. MVS notices Cougar on the top rope, and starts to climb up the ropes. MVS climbs to the top rope, standing above Cougar. MVS leaps into the air, wrapping his legs around Cougar’s head, and falls back, attempting a Hurricanrana, but Cougar holds onto MVS, holding MVS upside down. Hollywood rises to his feet, and runs into the corner that Cougar is holding MVS in, and dives to the ground, baseball-sliding MVS in the face. Cougar lets go of MVS, and MVS falls over, hitting the mat hard.)

 

Edwin: Cougar held on to Mike when he went for a Hurricanrana, and Hollywood came out of nowhere, and kicked Mike in the face.

 

Axis: What a counter. I’m not sure if John Cougar was lucky, or Mike was just, not.

 

King: Your starting to sound likes Edwin over there.

 

Edwin: I am going to kick your ass.

 

King: Why? Because I am a sWo fan?

 

Edwin: You are really asking for it.

 

(Hollywood rolls out under the bottom rope onto the apron, and MVS just crawls away. Cougar sits on the top rope, trying to catch his breath. IL makes it to his feet on the other side of the ring, and charges towards Cougar. IL leaps onto the middle rope with one foot, then leaping onto the top rope with the other, leaping up, wrapping his legs around Cougar’s head, and falling back, flipping Cougar off the top rope down onto the mat.)

 

Axis: DOUBLE SPRINGBOARD HURRICANRANA!

 

Edwin: Insane Luchador may have the win here.

 

(IL slowly starts to crawl over to Cougar. IL is about to put his arm over Cougar, when MVS comes from out of nowhere and knee’s IL in the head, knocking him over. MVS walks over to Cougar, places a foot on his chest, and makes THE ARROGANT COVER~!)

 

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(Cougar gets a shoulder up. Hollywood slowly starts to stand on the apron. MVS sees this, and runs into the ropes to the side of Hollywood. MVS jumps onto the middle rope, and springboards back, dropkicking Hollywood off the apron to the floor. IL rises to his feet, and stumbles over to MVS. MVS gives IL a quick kick to the gut, causing IL to bend forward. MVS grabs IL in a front face lock. Instead of DDTing IL, MVS throws his free arm over IL, driving IL’s face into the mat.)

 

Axis: Code Red!

 

Edwin: Mike might be going for The Van Slaminator.

 

King: You would hate that, wouldn’t you?

 

Edwin: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

 

(MVS backs a few feet away from IL, and starts yelling at him to stand. IL slowly starts to pull himself up to his feet. IL stumbles around a bit, before turning to MVS. MVS ducks under IL, and lifts him up, lifting IL over his shoulders, and down his back. MVS walks around the ring, holding IL on his back, but John Cougar, from out of nowhere, dives off the top rope, hitting a missile dropkick onto MVS, forcing him to drop IL, and fall over for an IL sunset flip.)

 

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(John Cougar comes from behind IL, and kicks him in the back, stopping the count. Cougar pulls IL out of the way, as MVS rises to his feet. Cougar walks over to MVS, and gives him a quick kick to the gut. Cougar pushes MVS back into the ropes. Cougar grabs MVS’ arm, and whips him across the ropes. MVS bounces into the ropes, and comes charging back at Cougar. Cougar goes for a clothesline, but MVS ducks under it, and continues running into the ropes. Cougar turns back to MVS, as MVS bounces into the ropes and comes running back towards Cougar. Cougar goes for a clothesline again, but MVS gets the same idea, and they collide clotheslines, and they both fall to the mat.)

 

Axis: They both went for clotheslines. And now, everyone is out of it.

 

Edwin: No, Hollywood is starting to get up.

 

King: Damnit!

 

(Hollywood rolls into the ring, under the bottom rope, and slowly gets to his feet. Hollywood looks around the ring, at his fallen opponents. Hollywood looks over at the fallen bodies of Cougar and MVS. Hollywood backs up into the ropes, bouncing off them. Hollywood runs at the bodies of MVS and Cougar. Hollywood dives to the mat, doing a roll, and jumping out of it, jumping into the air, and comes crashing down with a Senton onto Cougar’s chest.)

 

Axis: ROLLING THUNDER!

 

Edwin: Hollywood has the match won! Hollywood has the match won!

 

King: Nooooooo

 

(Hollywood lies on top of Cougars chest.)

 

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(IL pulls Hollywood off of Cougar.)

 

Axis: Hollywood was so close to the win. SO CLOSE.

 

Edwin: Yes, he was.

 

King: He never would of won.

 

(IL grabs Hollywood by the hair, and lifts him to his feet. IL pushes Hollywood back into the ropes, and grabs his arm. IL whips Hollywood across the ropes, but Hollywood reverses it, sending IL into the ropes, but IL holds onto Hollywood’s arm. Hollywood pulls IL towards him, and attempts a clothesline, but IL ducks under Hollywood’s arm, and placing his arm over Hollywood’s other shoulder. IL grabs Hollywood by his khaki’s and lifts him into the air, and drives him down into the mat, back first.)

 

Axis: INSANE LUCHADOR JUST USED SPIKE’S OWN MOVE AGAINST HIM. INSANE LUCHADOR JUST HIT A HIGHLIGHTER!

 

King: Its over. IT IS OVER BABY.

 

(IL quickly covers Hollywood)

 

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(MVS PULLS IL OFF OF HOLLYWOOD!)

 

Axis: Mike Van Siclen Just Pulled Insane Luchador Off of Hollywood. Insane Luchador ALMOST had the match in the bag.

 

Edwin: Who knows what is going to happen now?

 

(MVS pulls IL up to his feet, and pushes him back into the ropes. MVS grabs IL’s arm, and whips him across the ropes, but IL reverses it and sends MVS into the ropes. MVS bounces into the ropes, and comes running back to IL. IL goes for a clothesline, but MVS slides in between IL’s legs. MVS rises to his feet behind IL, as IL turns to MVS. MVS gives IL a quick kick to the gut, and lunges forward, grabbing IL in a front face lock, and dropping back, slamming IL’s head into the mat.)

 

Axis: EVENFLOW DDT! EVENFLOW DDT! EVENFLOW DDT TO INSANE LUCHADOR BY MIKE VAN SICLEN!

 

King: Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes.

 

(MVS quickly covers IL.)

 

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(John Cougar pulls MVS off of IL.)

 

Axis: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? Every time someone goes for the pin, someone else pulls them off. THESE GUYS WANT TO WIN.

 

King: No Duh!

 

(Cougar pulls MVS to his feet. MVS throws a right hand at Cougar, nailing Cougar right upside the head. MVS throws another right hand at Cougar, but Cougar ducks under it, and gets behind MVS. Cougar reaches in front of MVS, grabbing a hold of MVS’ arms, and locking MVS in a straight jacket. Cougar drops back, driving MVS into the mat, with the back of his head smacking the mat.)

 

Axis: CROSSFACE HALO! John Cougar just hit Mike with one of his own finishing moves, The Crossface Halo!

 

Edwin: These guys are really going at it.

 

(COUGAR COVERS MVS!!!!!!!)

 

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TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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(HOLLYWOOD PULLS COUGAR OFF OF MVS!!!!!!!!!)

 

Axis: All I can say is…Wow.

 

(Hollywood pulls Cougar up to his feet, and grabs Cougars arm. Hollywood whips Cougar across the ring, and Cougar goes crashing back first into the turnbuckles. Hollywood charges towards Cougar. Hollywood gives at Cougar, but Cougar moves, and Hollywood hits the turnbuckles chest first. Hollywood turns towards Cougar. Cougar charges at Hollywood, but Hollywood moves out of the way, and Cougar hits the turnbuckles, chest first. Cougar bounces back from impact, and Hollywood sneaks in front of him. Hollywood grabs Cougar in a front face lock, and runs into the corner, holding onto Cougar. Hollywood leaps onto the top rope, and springboards off, doing a 180* spin, and drops down, with Hollywood landing on his ass, and Cougar landing neck first across Hollywood’s shoulder.)

 

Axis: HOLLYWOOD JUST USED THE RABID FANG! John Cougar’s own move. John Cougar is OUT COLD.

 

(Hollywood falls over Cougar’s body…)

 

King: Look!

 

(IL leaps off the top rope, pumping his arms in and out of his body, and comes crashing down onto Hollywood’s back)

 

Axis: INSANE LUCHADOR JUST USED HIS OWN VERSION OF THE RATINGS GRABBER ON HOLLYWOOD.

 

(IL covers Hollywood)

 

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(MVS pulls IL off of Hollywood, AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MVS quickly pulls IL to his feet, and whips IL into the corner. MVS walks to IL, and gives him a few quick boots to the gut. MVS pulls IL out of the corner, and hops onto the second rope, so he is sitting on the top rope. MVS hooks his arms under IL’s arms, and locks them on the back of IL’s head, in a full nelson. MVS leaps off the middle rope, still holding IL, and drives IL face first into the mat.)

 

Axis: BRINK OF INSANITY TO INSANE LUCHADOR!

 

Edwin: When will one of these guys get a pin on the other?

 

Axis: This match is very close.

 

King: Obviously.

 

(MVS rolls IL onto his back, and goes for the pin, but Cougar pulls MVS off of IL. MVS makes it to his feet, and throws a right hand at Cougar, but Cougar ducks under it and gets behind MVS. MVS turns to Cougar, but Cougar ducks under MVS, lifting him up over his shoulders, and onto his back. Cougar walks around the ring a little bit, with MVS on his back. Cougar then drops down onto his ass, causing MVS to land on the top of his head on the mat.)

 

Axis: VAN SLAMINATOR TO MVS!

 

Edwin: Can John Cougar defeat Mike, Insane Luchador, and ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins in his debut?

 

King: HE CAN’T BEAT MIKE WITH HIS OWN MOVE. HE JUST CAN’T!

 

(Cougar makes the cover!!)

 

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(Hollywood pulls Cougar off of MVS. Hollywood lifts Cougar to his feet, and whips him into the corner. Cougar goes flying into the corner, but the referee gets trapped in between Cougar and the turnbuckle. Cougar falls back towards Hollywood, as Referee Hardcastle falls to the floor. Hollywood grabs Cougar in a front face lock, and runs towards the corner. Hollywood jumps onto the middle rope, and springboards off, doing a 180* spin in mid air, and comes down, driving Cougar face first into the mat, while he landed chest first.)

 

Axis: The Cougar Claw to John Cougar! But the referee is out. And Hollywood isn’t moving.

 

Edwin: Hollywood needs the pin, but he isn’t moving. The referee is knocked out also.

 

King: COME ON MIKE, GET UP!

 

(After a few minutes, everyone is still down in the ring. MVS and Hollywood are slowly rising to their feet. Hollywood stumbles to his feet, and falls back into a corner, leaning up against the turnbuckles. MVS, standing in the opposite corner, sees his opponent standing there, catching his breath, decides to make the first strike. MVS charges at Hollywood in the corner. MVS jumps into the air, going for a big splash onto Hollywood, but Hollywood quickly moves out of the way, causing MVS to land chest first onto the top turnbuckle. MVS bounces back from the impact, and literally walks back first into Hollywood. Hollywood quickly hooks MVS around the side, putting his head under MVS' free arm, and lifts MVS into the air holding his leg, like in a backdrop. Hollywood walks to the corner that MVS ran into, and brings MVS down onto the top rope, so he is facing the crowd.)

 

Edwin: This is Hollywood's chance to strike. Johnny Cougar and IL are down. If Hollywood hits a big move here, he can put Mike out right now.

 

King: You would like that, wouldn't you?

 

Edwin: What is that suppose to mean?

 

King: We ALL know you HATE the sWo.

 

Edwin: I don't know what you are talking about…. Is that Thor?

 

King: I'm not Thor.

 

Edwin: You're a dumbass.

 

Axis: LOOK! It is Thor. He has the TV title around his waist, and a chair in hand.

 

(Hollywood climbs up to the second turnbuckle, not even noticing Thor. Thor climbs up the steel steps outside the ring, in the corner where MVS and Hollywood are standing. Thor, out to reach revenge from Crimson, swing the chair at MVS, but MVS dodges out of the way, and the chair crashes down onto Hollywood's head.)

 

Edwin: Thor just knocked Hollywood out cold.

 

King: Everyone knows that Thor and Hollywood don't like each other. With all the backstage fighting, but that was taking it too far. And I am GLAD Thor is showing Hollywood who is boss. Thor is the Television champ for Christ's sakes.

 

Edwin: Please, Thor was aiming for Mikey.

 

King: You just think that, sWo hater.

 

(Hollywood falls off the middle rope, and lands hard onto the mat, not moving. MVS slips off the top rope, down into the ring, as Thor steps down from the steel steps to the floor, with a pissed off look on his face. MVS crawls over to the limp body of Hollywood, and throws an arm over him. Referee Hardcastle slowly crawls over to the two.)

 

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(Hollywood gets a shoulder up, stunning the whole arena, and Thor. MVS rises to his feet pissed off. MVS pulls Referee Hardcastle to his feet, and gives him a quick right hand, knocking him to the mat. MVS grabs Hollywood by the hair, and pulls him to his feet. MVS pushes Hollywood back first into the corner, and Hollywood lays up against the turnbuckle, as Thor drops the chair on the outside of the ring, and slides under the bottom rope, on the other side of the ring. Thor rises to his feet, and unbuckles the TV title around his waist. MVS starts slapping Hollywood around a bit. MVS decides to go check on his other opponents, and turns around to get IL or Cougar. MVS turns around, and Thor charges at him with the TV title. Thor swings the TV title at MVS' head, but MVS ducks under it, and Thor, ONCE AGAIN, nails Hollywood in the forehead with the title, knocking Hollywood down to the mat.)

 

King: Ok, I will believe that the first time was an accident. But come on. He just nailed Hollywood AGAIN.

 

Edwin: That was aimed at Mike. He ducked out of the way. An accident.

 

Axis: You know, I don't know what to think. A lot of accidents are going on with Thor to Hollywood.

 

King: SEE. Even Axis agrees with me.

 

(Thor looks down at the body of Hollywood lying in front of him. Thor turns back to MVS, but MVS charges at him, and clotheslines him over the top rope, causing him and Thor to go crashing to the floor.)

 

Edwin: Mike and Thor are both on the floor now. And Hollywood is out cold. It's all up to IL or Cougar now.

 

(Johnny Cougar slowly starts to wake up, and looks around the ring. Cougar sees Hollywood down, and quickly crawls over to him. Cougar lies on top of Hollywood, and hooks Hollywood's legs, almost turning Hollywood inside out. Referee Hardcastle starts to wake up, and notices the cover being made.)

 

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(Hollywood gets a shoulder up, getting a gasp from the audience. Cougar gets onto his knees, and holds his face in pain, as he doesn't know how to win this match. Cougar pulls himself up to his feet, and lifts Hollywood up with him. Cougar holds Hollywood by the hair, and walks back into the corner. Cougar lifts himself up onto the top rope, so he is sitting on the top rope, with his back facing the crowd. Cougar pulls Hollywood into a front face lock, and makes a little signal for the crowd. On the outside of the ring, Thor and MVS brawl around the ring. Thor grabs MVS around the throat, looking to choke slam him on the floor, but MVS gives Thor a quick kick to the groin, forcing Thor to let go of his grip, and grab his groin in pain. MVS walks away from Thor, to where he dropped the chair before. MVS lifts the chair up, and walks over to Thor. MVS swings the chair, crashing it down across the back of Thor's head. Thor collapses to the ground in pain, as MVS throws the chair away. MVS turns around, and is met by a couple of right hands from IL, who came from nowhere. IL and MVS start brawling all over ringside, as Thor lies out cold on the floor. Back in the ring, Cougar holds Hollywood in a front face lock. Cougar swings off the ropes, still holding onto Hollywood….)

 

Axis: Johnny Cougar is going for the Cougar Claw!

 

King: I would be guessing that's his finisher?

 

Axis: Yes….

 

King: What a crappy name for a move.

 

(Cougar swings around holding Hollywood, but Hollywood pushes Cougar off of him, causing Cougar to land on his feet in front of Hollywood. Cougar charges at Hollywood, but Hollywood ducks under him, grabbing him around his shoulder, getting under Cougar's free arm. Hollywood grabs Cougar's tights, lifting him into the air, and driving him back first into the mat, as the crowd rise to there feet.)

 

Axis: THE HIGHLIGHTER!

 

Edwin: From out of nowhere.

 

(Hollywood falls over the body of Johnny Cougar, as IL and MVS brawl all over ringside.)

 

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Three!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

* Ding * Ding * Ding *

 

Edwin: Hollywood did it!

 

King: Oh god…

 

Funyon: Here is your winner…. and the number one contender to the SJL European Championship…"Hollywood" Spike Jenkins!!!!!

 

(IL and MVS realize what just happened, and stop their brawling, and roll into the ring. They both rise to there feet, and walk over to Referee Hardcastle, and start arguing with him. Hollywood pulls himself to his feet using the ropes, and stands they're looking out into the crowd. Johnny Cougar, after putting up with one hell of a fight, rises to his feet, using the ropes also, and looks around the ring. From behind MVS, Thor rolls into the ring, holding the TV title in one hand, and a chair in the other. Thor drops the title down onto the mat, and stands behind MVS. IL looks at MVS, and starts laughing at him. MVS, with a confused look on his face, turns around, only to be met with a steel chair across the top of his skull. MVS falls to the mat, as IL and Thor look down at him. IL stands over MVS, talking shit to him, when from out of nowhere, Thor swings the chair once more, cracking it over IL's head.)

 

Edwin: Why the hell did he hit IL with the chair?

 

King: Thor is pissed….

 

(Johnny Cougar walks up to Thor, asking him questions on why he did that, when *BAM*, Thor slams the chair over Cougars head. Cougar falls over, landing next to the body of IL. All of a sudden, the fans start cheering. Thor, surprised by the sudden burst of the fans, turns around, only to be looking directly at 'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins.)

 

Edwin: Uh oh….

 

Axis: We might need security out here…

 

Edwin: I just realized. Both Thor and Hollywood are number one contenders to the European title. They will be going at in for the European title.

 

Axis: These guys are ready to kill each other, look at them.

 

(After several seconds of staring, Thor takes the steel chair he was holding, and throws it over the top rope to the floor.)

 

King: Thor just threw his only weapon out of the ring. I mean, yeah, he is way bigger then Hollywood, but Hollywood and Thor hate each other. Hollywood is ready to kill.

 

(Hollywood and Thor slowly step to each other, not taking their eyes off the other. Thor and Hollywood stand face to face (kind of) with each other. Hollywood starts yelling at Thor about the chair and title shot, and Thor just yells back down at him. From out of nowhere, Hollywood nails Thor with a right hand, getting a pop from the crowd. Thor fights back, and both of them start throwing rights and lefts at each other. After several punches, Hollywood is able to knock Thor back into the ropes. Hollywood grabs Thor's giant arm, and whips him across the ropes, but Thor reverses it, sending Hollywood into the ropes. Hollywood bounces into the ropes, and comes running back to Thor. Thor goes for a giant clothesline, but Hollywood ducks under it, stopping short behind Thor. Thor turns to Hollywood, as Hollywood throws his leg up, attempting to hit a spinning heel kick, but Thor catches the leg, and holds Hollywood up by one leg. Thor takes Hollywood's leg, and throws it around, causing Hollywood to do a 180* spin. Hollywood becomes face to face with Thor, as Thor grabs Hollywood around the throat with his giant hand. Thor starts yelling down at Hollywood, preparing for a choke slam, but Hollywood pushes Thor's arm up, causing him to let go of his grip. Hollywood quickly throws an arm over Thor's shoulder, and ducks under Thor's free arm. Hollywood gets a firm grip of Thor's tights, and lifts him up into the air, and driving him down onto his back.)

 

Axis: HIGHLIGHTER TO THOR! HIGHLIGHTER TO THOR!

 

Edwin: He just picked the big man up.

 

(Hollywood hops up to his feet, and looks down at Thor. Hollywood walks away from Thor, to where Thor dropped the TV title. Hollywood picks the title up, and walks over to Thor, and stands above him. Hollywood folds the title up, and lifts it over his head, causing the fans to start cheering. Hollywood looks down at Thor, and drops the title down onto Thor's chest.)

 

Edwin: All I can say, is when these two get back in the ring, they will explode.

 

(The camera turns to darkness, after showing Hollywood standing over Thor, going to a commercial break.)

[Guest Suicide King]

The scene cuts away from ringside and directly into MacPhisto’s not-so-temporary office within the bowels of the Gund Arena. “EARLIER TONIGHT” flashes into the lower corner of the picture, and then fades away after a few seconds. MacPhisto sits in his chair, with the back turned toward the door. Soft beeps and buzzing can be heard, along with soft rantings from the commissioner. A shadow enters the room and clears his throat. The chair spins around suddenly, and the handheld game is tossed on the desk. MacPhisto smiles wide to hide his surprise.

 

Edwin: “Hi! Hullo! Good day! C’mon in, Kamikaze!”

 

Kamikaze steps through the doorway, still in his ‘Sunday’ clothes. He reaches into is back pocket and pulls out the folded report from Doctor Nederlander. Kam offers it to MacPhisto and grins crookedly as the commish picks it up, noting that the shiny seal flashes when held at a certain angle.. and then he notices also that the sticker is torn in half.

 

Edwin: “Couldn’t resist, I see. No worries! I never can either.. wait. That’s saying too much. Ah, well! We’ve got the best for you while you’re on the road with us, so it’s okay. Right?”

 

But before Kamikaze can open his mouth to protest, agree, or much of anything else, Edwin answers himself.

 

Edwin: “Right. So long as you’re still cleared to work, I don’t give a flyin’ wazoo how crazy you are!”

Kam: “I’m not crazy.”

Edwin: “Hey, that’s what we all say. That rhymed. Cool!.. Anyway, good luck in that TV Title match.”

 

Edwin winks at Kamikaze and lets the report fall to his desk. He quickly snatches his game back up, swivels the chair around again and continues his quest for gameworld dominance. Kam steps out of the commissioner’s office and heads down the hallway, presumably toward the locker room. About ten yards down the hall, Kam stops dead in his tracks and raises a finger toward the wall. His eyes narrow and his mouth twists.. and then he shakes his finger.

 

Kam: “I’m not even talking to you right now.”

[Guest Suicide King]

Yet another SJL merchandise commercial comes to a close, after convincing more than a few fans to buy the newest shirt of their favorite superstar, and SJL metal is back on the air! The fans are buzzing with anticipation, stadium lights low, flashing blue strobes bathing the fans, the announcers, and the ominous steel structure settled round the always-exciting SJL ring. The cameras cut in once more on the tremulous trio, situated at ringside. All three look psyched, ready for a heck of a matchup. The awesome Aussie is the first to speak, once more giving a welcome to the fans all around the world.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to SJL metal! It’s been an amazing night, with revelations, righteous ruckus, and now, the cherry on top of tonight’s SJL sundae, a main event featuring three of the SJL’s finest talents. Mak Francis, dangerous, egotistical leader of the sWo, ready to show us all why they call him ‘the Franchise’ with his very best go for the belt. The Canadian Dream, the hardcase hoser, looking for a taste of world title gold, that he’s come oh so close to, in recent memory. And the world Champ himself, Renegade, coming in with the hopes for a retain before he moves on up to the big leagues of the SWF. In a steel cage, these three men will, for lack of a better description, maim, wound, and destroy, all for the gold.”

 

Edwin is the next to chime in, as upbeat as always, a night of crazy action getting him psyched for the massive main event, just as every other person in the arena seems to be. “Ah, the two men with whom I sit each and every show, you look particularly jazzed, if I may say, and rightly so. Three battle scarred warriors, in that glorious tradition of spilling blood and inflicting pain for no more than glory, adoration, in short, perhaps, for what all three of them think they deserve. I don’t know if I can disagree. Okay, maybe with Francis, who’s had the sWo in everybody’s business in a brash attempt to show just how good HE is.”

 

“Quiet, you British boob. Might makes right, and noone knows that more than Mak Francis. The sWo has been running roughshod over this mismanaged company in an attempt to fight the forces holding them down, and their leader, Mak Francis, has finally succeeded in getting his talent recognized. Tonight, in the cage, he’s going to show us all the true abilities of a Franchise, and give every SJL fan a new champion to look up to. Whether they like it or not.”

 

Axis smiles, looking up at the cage now surrounding the ring. “It should be a fierce battle no matter who the winner ends up being, and a case could be made for any of these men. Let’s go to Funyon, and get them all in here, so they can show us what they have inside the ring.

 

The cameras do indeed cut to the inside of the ring, and Funyon, dressed to the nines in the latest high fashion wear from Sears. Come see the softer side of Sears. The oddly bedecked Funyon raises the mic to his lips, and the silent anticipation changes to a murmur of excitement. “Ladies and Gentlemen. The following match is scheduled for one fall, and is a Cage match for the SJL World heavyweight CHAMPIONSHIP!”

 

The fans are on their feet, cheering the upcoming brutality, until the arena speakers kick in, and ‘Down with the sickness’ begins to blare. Those in attendance begin a loud chorus of boos as the SmarkTron flickers to life, three words flashing across the screen.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Introducing first, From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania….”

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Weighing in at two hundred and twenty five pounds, he leads the sWo….”

 

“CAUSE THE FRANCHISE IS HERE!”

 

A blue and white photonegative of Mak making CIA tap out for his European title victory appears on the SmarkTron, and the man himself appears. Emerging through the curtain, Mak Francis is met with an even louder rain of hatred from the fans, to which he immediately responds, cursing out the fans nearest to him as he makes his way down the aisle.

 

“He is the man who gets the franchise bucks, the franchise perks, and the franchise titles. He wishes to be announced as your next SJL world championship. ‘The Franchise’, Mak Francis!”

 

Francis makes his way down to ringside, shrugging off his long leather jacket, handing it and his dark sunglasses to a ringside attendant and making his way up the stairs and into the steel cage. Stepping past Funyon, he heads to a corner, leaning back against the turnbuckle as the announce man begins again, calling for Francis’ first opponent for the evening, as the arena lights dim, a red glow bathing all present.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing next, from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada….”

 

The SmarkTron flickers to life, a fluttering Canadian Flag flowing for all the fans to see. And since none of the fans are still in the dark about what that signifies, they are on their feet, forgetting the Franchise in the ring and letting out a mighty cheer for their Canadian Hero. “Oooohhhhhh Caaannnaaadddaaaa!!!”

 

*BOOM!*

 

The stage seems to exploding, four bright red columns of pyro firing deafeningly into the air, just as glittering red bits of confetti begin to rain down on the assembled fans. The adulation from the fans becomes even louder as the arena lights kick back up to full luminescence to coincide with the pyro, the opening riff to ‘secret agent man’ beginning, and the recently dubbed ‘Canadian Dream’ emerges on stage in a very Jericho-esque pose. The cheering continues for some time, and CIA remains unmoving, allowing Funyon a chance for once to finish his introduction.

 

“Weighing in at two hundred and thirty seven pounds, he is the cold warrior, and also wishes to be announced as your NEXT SJL world champion, he is… C!… I!… AAAA!!!”

 

The fans cheer a bit more for this confident entrance than they did for Mak Francis’, and CIA spins in place on the ramp, turning towards the ring, Microphone in hand as he begins his slow walk towards the confines of the cage.

 

”Grettings, all you fantastic folk, from the Frozen North! It’s I, it’s me, it’s he, it’s the man who spelled backwards would be AIC. I’m getting ready to step into the SJL record books, boys and girls, to show you all some real appreciation by winning you the gold!”

 

The fans explode once more, as CIA comes to the ringside area, continuing his spiel unabated. “That’s right, I have no intentions of losing this matchup. Let me tell you, folks, I was a bit nervous, but I’ve gone to special lengths tonight. This is a sobering event, and in honor of that, I only had four beers before coming out here! It’s time once again for all you people to smile…. Cause tonight? The new SJL Champ is bringing his best. CANADIAN STYLE!”

 

The masked grappler hands his microphone off to the same ringside attendant Mak Francis had dealt with just moments earlier, as well as his jacket. Turning towards the cage, CIA makes his way up the steps and through the ropes, looking over towards Mak Francis with a glare. As both men stare, the crowd waits, expecting them to begin fighting at any moment. And indeed, it looks like they might, as they come face to face in center ring. At least, it looks that way until….

 

“PICK UP THE PACE!”

 

The strains of ‘(Sic)’ begin to fill the arena, and both men in ring turn towards the entryway along with the fans, all eyes on the emerging Champion, and the belt strapped around his waist. Some fans boo, others cheer, and Funyon raises his microphone once more, bringing the no nonsense champ to the ring.

 

”And finally, hailing from NYC, and weighing in at two hundred and sixty pounds, he is simply known as the Renegade Master, and YOUR SJL World Heavyweight Champion! He is…. Reeeennnneeeeegggaaaddddeeee!!!!”

 

The split reaction continues from the fans as Renegade reaches ringside, making his way into the steel cage, belt still strapped securely around his waist. Stepping into the apron, Renegade reaches back and undoes the belt, handing it to a passing Funyon, and taking the microphone from the announce man. Lifting the auditory receiver, Renegade speaks simply, once. “Keep it warm for me.”

 

A few more fans boo this sentiment than cheer it, but many still admire the champ’s bravado. Renegade steps through the ropes, moving to center ring as all three men stand, eyes darting back and forth in angry glares between each other. Funyon exits the monstrous structure, and the steel door swings shut, ringside officials locking it up tight. The bell rings, and the fans let out another cheer, ready for a hell of a main event.

 

“And we’re all set to go, fans. None of the men inside the ring has made a move yet, and maybe rightly so, as you never know what to expect with two other men in a cage like that.”

 

King speaks up, rebutting Axis, and adding his own unique viewpoint to the match. “Hmph. It’s just fear from those other two, cause they know what the Franchise will do to them. And before you speak, Edwin, Francis isn’t fighting cause he’s smart enough to know these two will tear each other apart. With CIA nowhere near one hundred percent, that just leaves slim pickings in Renegade. This match is his for the taking.

 

“Well, that’s all well and good to say, King, but CIA’s not the only one who was nearly on the injured list. Mak Francis is bruised and beaten from that cage match as well. From here, Mak Francis already looks like he’s lost, with a bandaged hand and forehead. The only man in this match who has all his faculties is Renegade. As much these two hate each other, they may have to team up to take out Renegade, if they want to win. And also… whoa! HERE WE GO!”

 

Indeed, the action is underway, as all three men come together, almost criminally hard shots being thrown, punches impacting the faces and upper bodies of each man. This confusion continues for a few moments, before CIA and Mak Francis turn simultaneously with hard shots to Renegade, knocking the champ down onto his back. Turning back towards one another, the arch nemeses start trading off punches yet again. Francis stumbles back first, neither of his hands in the right condition to allow him to continue punching, and he begins to stumble as CIA peppers him with fierce shots to the jaw. Dazing the Franchise, the Canadian spins in place, wasting no time in going for a brutal roaring elbow. Unfortunately, Francis still has the presence to step in and shove against CIA’s turned back, sending him into the ropes.

 

Renegade, rolling up onto his knees, sees this part of the exchange, and stands back, awaiting the result. Watching CIA bounce off the ring ropes, and back towards Mak, in the center of the ring. Francis goes for a hard clothesline, but CIA ducks underneath, cutting off his run and spinning about behind the Franchise. Mak spins around, and is met with a hard Shotei to the cheek, knocking him back a step and spinning his head. The fans ‘Whoo!’ for some reason, and CIA follows up with another hard Shotei to the face of Francis, garnering another big reaction. Francis is quite dazed from these two strong shots, and CIA spins in place once again, this time hitting his roaring elbow, cracking across Mak’s jaw and dropping him to the mat. The fans cheer wildly, but are quickly cut off as Renegade comes charging in low at CIA. The Canadian turns, just in time to get taken off his feet by a high impact spear, and driven into the mat.

 

“Gore! Gore! Gore!”

 

“King, what the hell are you doing?”

 

”Just trying to act like a professional, Edwin.”

 

Axis cuts in, trying to interrupt any impending argument between the two men. “This match is just getting started, and CIA managed to get the one up on Mak Francis, dropping him to the mat with two hard Shotei’s and a rolling elbow. Unfortunately for the Canadian, a rising Renegade struck him down with a fierce spear.”

 

In the ring, Renegade comes to his feet, looking at both his opponents, apparently not sure who to go for. His decision is made as Mak rolls over onto his stomach, putting his hands under himself and lifting himself up. Renegade steps over, and just as Francis rises up to his hands and knees, the champ’s foot comes down, stomping Francis’ bandaged hand. The franchise cries out, desperately trying to pull his hand out from under Renegade’s foot. Lifting up off the mat, Renegade instead lifts all his weight onto that foot, causing Francis to cry out even more.

 

The champ smiles smugly, not noticing CIA rising up behind him. Francis rolls about in pain for a moment, and, in a desperate lunge, throws himself forward, driving his arm up into Renegade’s crotch. Renegade doubles over and clutches himself in pain, stepping back a step or two. Bumping into CIA, Renegade spins around, and is met by a strong foot just under the jaw. The high angle superkick from the Canadian stumbles Renegade back, and the Rising Francis catches him, locking the larger man in a waistlock. The champ’s eyes open wide in shock, and Francis readies to toss the larger man overhead.

 

*CLANK* *THUD*

 

“Holy sweet mother of god! I certainly wouldn’t want to be Renegade right now. He thought he had things well in hand, picking on two wounded men, but just… wow. CIA catches him with a superkick, and a recovered Mak Francis powers him up with an overhead release belly to back suplex. And then, oh, he hits that cage, and drops down onto the apron, square onto his skull. This is just BRUTAL.”

 

“What’s the matter, Axis? You sound squeamish. Francis, showing real power, just destroyed Renegade with that toss. With power moves like that, I wouldn’t be surprised to see people comparing this great wrestler to the legends of old. And it all started with that BRILLIANTLY timed low blow on Renegade.”

 

Edwin speaks up, happy to speak up where King chooses to remain silent. “And Francis got the opportunity for that move thanks to a timely shot by CIA. These men, for all their enmity, seem to work well together, and, intended or no, they really took the champ by surprise. If these two decide to join forces and hit just one or two more shots like that, Renegade will be out.”

 

CIA rushes forward as Francis sits up, and leaps off his feet, planting a hard dropkick in the face of the sWo leader. Francis is slammed back to the mat, quickly rolling away and clutching his head in pain.

 

“You were saying, Edwin?”

 

“Umm… he was aiming for Renegade?”

 

Brilliant commentary not withstanding, the three men in the ring are all on the mat, very shortly into the match. CIA rolls over and comes up to his feet, seeing the other two men down on the mat. CIA quickly makes his way to the ropes nearest Renegade, grabbing the cage and lifting himself up onto the first rope, then the second, careful to be sure he has a strong grip before he presses one foot up against the steel mesh of the cage, looking like he is going to try to make his escape. The fans cheer, and CIA begins climbing, only to be halted suddenly. Looking down, CIA sees Renegade, reaching up with both hands to take hold of the Canadian’s foot on the second rope.

 

Struggling, CIA tries to break free, but to no avail, as Renegade’s grip is unwavering, the Champ determined not to lose his title. While CIA continues fighting, tugging his body up and trying to free himself from the hold of the Renegade master, Francis is coming up to his feet in the ring, still gripping his skull in pain. It only takes a moment for the Franchise to see what is happening, and he rushes towards CIA. Slamming both his arms into the back of the masked grappler, Francis forces CIA into the cage, and CIA loses his footing, both feet sliding off the ropes, his body dropping down, to straddle the top rope. The fans let out a loud groan of sympathy, and CIA holds onto the cage, trying to keep his weight off the ropes. But, within moments, Francis drops low, grabbing the Canadian’s ankle as Renegade pulls down hard on the other leg, both men tugging him fiercely down across the top rope. The ‘Canadian Dream’ falls backwards as both men release his ankles and the rope lifts him up slightly, sending him off and to the mat.

 

“CIA tries to go for the escape, choosing his position in the ring unwisely, as Renegade is able to grab him long enough for a recovering Francis to knock him off that top rope, and into a rather uncomfortable position.”

 

“Axis, you are exactly right. That Canadian has no idea what he’s doing, and the brilliant champ and even more intelligent Franchise take advantage. And Francis takes control!”

 

“Queenie might be right, as that was a foolish mistake by CIA. Although I must admit, I am impressed that Renegade is even moving so soon, after the way he was dropped on his head.”

 

Renegade doesn’t seem to have fully recovered, as he is still down on the outside, and CIA is busy writhing in pain on the mat. Mak Francis comes up, now the sole man on his feet. Ignoring Renegade, Francis walks over to CIA, grabbing a handful of the Canadian’s hair and tugging him to his feet. Standing behind the patriotic one, Francis twists the hair in his bad hand, slamming his good hand up underneath in a trio of hard shots, rocking CIA’s head forward after tugging it into each shot. Turning the Canadian around and releasing his grip on his blond hair, it looks like Mak might be laying off the back of his skull as he forces CIA back against the ropes.

 

Smiling wickedly, it looks as though Francis will go for a whip across the ring, but the Franchise releases the Canadian’s body, instead pressing his good hand against the front of CIA’s mask and bending him back over the top rope till the back of his head is pressed against the steel mesh of the cage. Reaching up, Francis touches the bandage wrapped around his forehead, almost immediately beginning to drag the one unprotected part of CIA’s skull back and forth against the mesh of the cage.

 

“AHHHH!!!” The fans boo as CIA cries out in pain, but Mak continues to grate his opponent’s skull against the cage like ripe cheese, and it’s not long till CIA’s blond hair is stained red with dripping blood. Francis releases CIA and tugs him away from the ropes, pulling the Canadian to his side. With another rather sinister smile, Francis brings his arm around in front of him, spinning around and driving his elbow up into the back of CIA’s skull, dropping the Canadian to the mat. The camera follows the downed CIA for a moment, but comes up as Francis wipes his elbow off with his bandaged hand, staining the gauze with a thick splotch of blood.

 

“Hahaha! Mak Francis is using that cage to the fullest advantage, just as I, the Suicide King, greatest SWF champ of all time, would certainly do. This kid is going places, fast, even with all the forces of Macphisto trying to drag him down to the midcard kicking and screaming. He TORE that punk foreigner’s skull open, and now this match, and the blood of his foe, is in the palm of his hand.”

 

Axis sighs, and speaks tentatively, possibly being a little too squeamish for this kind of violence. “Ugh… and CIA…. Oooh, he is just in a bad way right now, with his skull sliding along the unforgiving steel of that cage, compounded by a plethora of hard shots to the back of the skull but a particularly sadistic franchise. Looks like he’s taking cue’s from his fellow sWo members, the pain dealing Fugue in particular.”

 

“You know, Axis, you CAN close your eyes if this is too much for you.”

 

“King, did anyone ever tell you you’re a shortsighted ass, just like Mak Francis is? I think both of you are forgetting one very important fact right now, in your combined hatred for the SJL’s very favorite foreign import. And #1 merchandise seller.”

 

”Oh? And what’s that, you simpering simian?”

 

“The World Champ, King.”

 

Indeed, as Francis leans over the fallen CIA, Renegade has finally recovered his footing on the apron, and perhaps milked it for a bit to recover his energy. Stepping through the ropes, Renegade slowly approaches Francis from behind as the sWo leader begins to kick out at the back of CIA’s skull, sending a few droplets of blood splattering across the mat with each shot. A mere foot away now, Renegade breaks into a shot run, and Francis spins around in shock, kicking out hard on instinct to try to catch Renegade off guard. Renegade, seeing this, leaps into the air, getting his body up above the kicking foot, and raising his knee as he does so. Francis has no time to raise his arms, merely collapsing to the mat as Renegade catches him with a high knee to his jaw.

 

Francis clutches his jaw, CIA clutches the back of his skull, and Renegade rises to his feet, having shifted the momentum of this matchup once again. Leaning down, Reneagade reaches to either side, lifting both of his opponents up to their feet, slowly, till both are still merely slightly bent over, his hands on the back of their necks. The audience is going crazy, a few competing chants breaking out throughout the arena, the largest being a ‘CIA’ chant, though a slightly smaller ‘Renegade’ chant, and even a few small ‘sWo’ and ‘Francis! Francis!’ chants ring out. Not acknowledging any of these chants, Renegade sets about business as usual, drawing back the heads of both challengers for his title, slamming their skulls together.

 

Both men are stumbled, and Renegade begins firing fierce shots to the skulls of both men, back and forth, keeping both reeling. The fans cheer with each shot, even to CIA, the mere excitement keeping them rocking in the aisles. After what must be at least ten or twelve stiff shots to both men, Renegade doubles both over with kicks to the gut, snatching them into a double front facelock and back with one fluid motion. A loud impact sounds out as Renegade plants both men on their skulls, bodies flipping over to the mat after the double flowing DDT.

 

“Amazing ring presence by Renegade, able to use his opponent’s fatigue against them, and keep both men reeling. He’s really showing why he’s the champ, and after that fierce, fluid double DDT, keeping the focus on both men’s skulls, everything is back to right where we started, Renegade being in the best position, CIA and Francis both nursing injuries.”

 

“Renegade isn’t the world champ for nothing, Axis, even if my pick to win this match is still Mak Francis, who I think is willing to go to any lengths to get the title. After all, it’s not over till one man makes it out of this cage, and if I recall, Francis has won a three way title match against CIA before.”

 

“By making him tap out, King. Not an unimpressive feat, but not any help in the cage. These two men started this match with a little inadvertent teaming to take down Renegade, and it did its job well. As much as they hate each other, Renegade isn’t gonna quit either, and if these two want to play out their little feud, they may just have to swallow their pride and work together to take out the World Champ.”

 

The champ in question is busy in the ring, coming up to a sitting position, and grabbing hold of the Franchise as he does so, pulling Mak up to his knees. Drawing back, it looks as though Renegade is going to slam his fist into the face of Francis, but Mak quickly raises both hands in defense, begging off from the attack. The fans boo, urging Renegade to pop the cocky heel with the fiercest shot he can muster. For once, Renegade seems to listen to the fans, drawing his fist far back, ready to drop Francis with a devastating right hand. Francis moves quickly, swinging his arm upwards in an attempt to catch Renegade in the crotch just like he did to CIA in there recent cage match, but Renegade is too quick, snapping his legs together and trapping the arm of the Franchise before any testicular punishment can be dealt to him.

 

Francis is shocked, and he looks up. *BAM*, Renegade cracks a shot off his skull that sounds something like a baseball bat smacking a ripe melon. Francis rocks back, but his arm is trapped, and he has nowhere to go. *BAM*, Renegade catches him with a left, and Francis reels once more, the bandage on his head beginning to unravel, a wide tear forming along the front. Renegade releases Francis’s arm, and takes a step forward, *BAM!* driving a hard knee right into the skull of the franchise, and crumpling him to the mat. The camera’s zoom in close, revealing a wide split in the forehead of the sWo leader, a copious flow of blood coming down the side of his face.

 

“Oooh! And Francis is busted open hardway, that already lacerated forehead coming open after three of the stiffest shots I have ever seen. I’ve fought some monsters in my time, hell, I’ve even retained my world title and my carnie pride against a few, and let me tell you, wounded or not, Francis would be bleeding like stuck pig right now either way. Don’t you think, Kingy?”

 

”Damnit! I told you to stop calling me that. And you could at least try to sound a little less like you’re enjoying this. I thought we were supposed to be impartial, you lackwit. Besides, uh… Francis is gonna be fine. Renegade may have the upper hand now, but he’s not the only one in that cage, and Renegade did take a couple wicked shots right off the bat in this contest.”

 

“Allthough impartiality is not a virtue I would extend to either of my colleagues, I must say they both raise good points. Francis could well be unconscious after those stiff shots from world champ Renegade, but with the intensity these three men have been showing, there’s a good chance this match could go on all night with no winner.”

 

In the ring, it looks as though Renegade has no intention of letting such a thing happen, as instead it seems he would like to kill his opponents just to be sure he holds onto the belt. Turning to glance at CIA, Renegade makes certain the Canadian is still down on the mat and barely moving. After verifying this, Gade leans down and lifts Mak Francis up once more, tugging the smaller man to his feet. Locking Francis in a front facelock, and hooking the waist of his tights, Renegade brings the Franchise over till the current champ is backed up right against the ropes.

 

Francis begins to fight, trying to break out of the front facelock, but Renegade throws himself up and back, flipping Mak up with a snap suplex. Francis flips up through the air, and his back crashes into the mesh of the cage, hard. Renegade holds tight, and uses the impact, as well as his own body against the ropes, to fly forward and send Francis right back down to the mat, face first.

 

Axis is the first to speak after a moment of silence. “Umm… holy crap. A brutal snap suplex, turned into a….. hell, I’m the guy who knows all the moves, and I don’t have any IDEA what to call that. Francis is down, and if Renegade does anything even approaching that to CIA, I don’t doubt we’ll be seeing a retain here tonight.”

 

“The sheer presence of this cage inspires new innovations in violence, and a real killer instinct in everyone who steps inside. Frankly, you would have to be nuts to step into that kind of a situation. Who would EVER think it was a good idea?”

 

“You moron, I would think that would be the commissioner, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Ohh, King, that guy makes me so mad, the way he’s…. oh…. umm… nevermind.”

 

Renegade rolls over and to his feet, looking over towards CIA, who is just now rolling over to his stomach. Moving quickly, the Champ moves to the side of the cage so Francis is between the both of them, and begins to climb the ropes. The fans begin clapping, and cheering, most hoping for CIA to reach Renegade in time to halt the escape attempt. Not that there are no Renegade fans, it’s just that the audience has smelled blood in the water, and wants more. But, CIA is moving slowly, and Renegade is on the top rope, pulling himself up onto the cage by the time CIA is on his feet. Looking up, CIA wipes the blood out of his face, tossing back his blood-drenched hair. He sees Renegade making his way up the cage, he sees Francis, on his hands and knees, crawling towards the Champ, and an idea quickly forms in his head.

 

Rushing across the ring as fast as he can, CIA heads not for Renegade, but straight at the crawling Franchise. He reaches Francis, a few feet away from the cage, at a full run, just as Renegade tugs his upper body onto the top of the cage. It looks like there is no hope, but CIA is not giving up. Stepping on the back of Mak Francis, CIA leaps, gaining extra height on his jump as Mak is pushed back down to the mat. Sailing across the ring, CIA reaches out, grasping, trying to get a hold of Renegade someway, ANY way. His feet meet the cage just above the top rope, and the Canadian manages to wrap his arms around the lower legs of Renegade, stopping the champ cold. Renegade looks back, angrily, trying to shake of CIA, but with no luck. CIA pushes against the cage, Holding Renegade’s legs, and trying to pull him back off the top of the cage, leaving Renegade little recourse but to hold on for dear life.

 

Both men struggle, but neither one seems to be losing hold, and the fans are on their feet, waiting to see how this will play out. Francis comes to his feet in the ring, crimson mask in full effect on his face. Looking up, he sees CIA holding on to Renegade’s legs like a child who doesn’t want their father to go to work. Shaking the blood from his eyes, Francis steps forward, reaching both hands up to grab hold of the waist of CIA’s ring pants, placing one foot on the bottom rope to reach high enough. All three men pull, and Renegade begins to slip a little, one of his hands coming free of the outside mesh of the cage. It looks as though Francis’ extra pull will bring both men back into the ring, but the crowd gasps as CIA’s grip begins to slip, Renegade pulling one foot free of him.

 

Francis and CIA continue to pull, trying to get Renegade down from the top of the cage, but the world champ begins to kick the Canadian in the face, slipping free of his grip a bit more each time. The tense tug of war goes on, and the arena is quiet, waiting. Will this be the end? Finally, Renegade kicks out hard, and Francis tugs, pulling CIA back from the cage, loosing his grip on the champ. Mak francis falls backwards, still pulling the masked wrestler, and CIA reaches up one last time, just BARELY snagging the dangling foot of Renegade as he falls. The sudden tug causes Renegade’s other hand to break free of the cage, as his body is pulled up, almost straight out from the cage. All three men drop, and CIA and the Franchise hit the mat,, just as Renegade falls down, chest bouncing across the top rope, and flipping his body up and back to the canvas as well. All three men are down, and in a crazy spot. The fans are on their feet, cheering, and the announcers seem to be in a state of shock.

 

“What an amazing fall. Renegade fell from the top of that cage, dropping his chest and neck right across that top rope, but it took the strength of two men to do it. It is clear, ladies and gentleman, that this match is not going to end if there is a man able to stop it.”

 

“You are exactly right, Axis, as my hero and yours, the sWo’s truest champion, Mak Francis, just single-handedly pulled two men off that cage to keep his shot at the gold. If ever there was a braver move in our sport, I must have been the one who did it.”

 

“Wow. Just wow, King. That is, perhaps, the MOST egotistical and incorrect thing I’ve ever heard you say, and I’ve heard you say a LOT of stupid things. All three of these men fight with all their heart, and you attribute it to your favorite. And then, you have the GALL to say that the only one who could do it better was you.”

 

“What’s your point, you epitome of ludicrousness?”

 

“You are NEVER gonna get fired as heel commentator.”

 

All three men remain down in the ring as this amazing revelation comes to pass, and, not surprisingly, Mak Francis is the first man to roll over and begin to come to his feet from the jumbled mess of bodies. Absolutely CERTAIN that there is no way his opponents are getting up from that, he wearily marches to the ropes, and begins the slow climb towards the top, pulling himself up with some difficulty, unable to use his bad hand for much at all. His progress to the top rope take so much time, in fact, that CIA has managed to crawl to the corner, beginning to lift himself up using the turnbuckles, and Renegade, amazingly recovering from his fall, has rolled over to his hands and knees.

 

Francis climbs, slowly, getting his feet up on the cage, but Renegade comes up onto his feet, marching forward to the cage next to Francis, and beginning to scale it as CIA leans against the corner turnbuckle, looking completely exhausted. The Franchise gets his feet up on the cage, and begins to lift himself, bad hand and all, but Renegade is quicker, and his hands are uninjured, so he is quickly up to the top rope, and he jabs Francis in the side with a stiff punch, causing the sWo leader to drop to the top rope. Both men stand, maintaining their balance as best they can. Turning towards one another, the two mean lean against the cage, and lock up in a collar and elbow, fighting for position.

 

Neither man seems to be able to gain an advantage, until finally, Francis breaks free with one hand, jabbing his thumb into the eye of Renegade. Renegade stumbles but does not fall, and Francis locks him up, quickly. Somehow, the Franchise manages to maintain his balance, and heft Renegade into the air and along his shoulder, cradling his head in one arm. He has him set up for a Franchise tag on the top rope, and the fans are all standing in from their seats. Francis has him ready, and when he is just about to drop Renegade, the Champ’s feet touch the cage, and he kicks off, pushing off towards the center of the ring. Francis loses his grip, and begins to fall off the top rope. Renegade’s body spins, shooting away from the cage, and he hooks Francis’s neck as he passes, in a ¾ turn neckbreaker. Cameras flash, so many that the arena lights up, as both men sail down to the mat, the world champ dropping Mak Francis with a Renebreak from the top rope!

 

Both men hit the mat, and the only motion in the ring is CIA, scrambling for the top rope. Climbing quickly to the top, the Canadian is moving blind, as his bloody hair is hanging down in his face, but he does not hesitate. Lifting himself up the cage slightly, CIA plants his feet as high on the mesh as they will go, and pushes off, sailing through the sky. Cameras begin to explode with light once more, the fans in the Gung Arena emptying any film they have left after Renegade’s top rope finisher. The Canadian flies overhead, getting massive height, and in midair, he spins not a quarter turn, but 540 degrees, a full extra twist on his move. Coming down from the sky, CIA sails over top of the downed Franchise, and slams into the back of the just rising Renegade, crushing him to the mat. The arena explodes, and all three men are down, none showing any sign of movement.

 

“Holy shit, that was just plain cool.”

 

“Axis? Aren’t you supposed to give us a technical breakdown of the moves?”

 

“Shut it, King. That was so frickin’ cool.”

 

Eventually, fans still clapping and chanting holy shit, one man comes to his feet, raising yet another cheer. CIA is up, and he’s headed straight for the ropes. Climbing up, he moves slowly, but is nearly at the top when Renegade and Mak Francis begin to move. Pulling himself up, CIA can barely grip the top bar of the cage; his hands covered in blood, some his, some not. Renegade rises to his feet just as CIA tosses one leg over the top of the cage, Fans chanting like crazy.

 

Frantically, albeit a bit woozily, Renegade makes his way to the ropes, and begins to climb. CIA throws his other leg over the top of the cage, and it looks like victory is assured, when a two hands shoot up, grabbing hold of his hair. Renegade is on the top rope, and he has a deathgrip on the bloody locks, holding them as if merely thinking of letting go would be to lose everything. CIA kicks and fights, but cannot free himself. In the ring, Mak Francis comes to his feet, blood stinging his eyes. Looking up, he sees only one thing. Renegade, standing on the top rope and reaching towards the top of the cage. Stumbling forward, Francisgrabs hold of Renegade’s tights, and throws his arm up, catching the champ with a low blow. Everything might as well go in slow motion, from there, as Renegade’s grip is released, causing him to fall back on the Franchise, and CIA’s hair is free, the Canadian slipping back and suddenly hurtling towards the ground.

 

Though all that heralds the finish is a wet smack of a body hitting the floor from over ten feet in the air, and the sound of a bell ringing, the Gund Arena explodes, everyone on their feet, celebrating, cheering. Funyon rushes around the ring, Title belt in one hand, Microphone in the other. “Ladies and Gentlemen! The winner, and NEEEEEWWWW SJL World Heavyweight Champion! C! I! AAAAA!!!!!”

 

The arena chants along as the name is announced, clearly all in a state of joyous celebration. Funyon leans in close, and lays the belt across the body of CIA, his microphone inadvertently picking up the Canadian’s mumbled words. “This hurts….sooooo much.”

 

The camera shows replays, shots of all three men, as the fans continue to cheer them all. The cage begins to rise into the air, and medics come to check on each of the grapplers, who are slowly coming around. Finally, we go to our announcers, who all have something to say.

 

“I, Edwin MacPhisto, do solemnly swear, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. We’ve got a NEW CHAMP! Woohoo!”

 

King is next, in a foul mood to top all foul moods, as he glares across the ringside area towards the rising ‘new champ’ “I don’t know how they did it, but they cheated Francis again. I think my only solace is that CIA took the beating of a lifetime. No. This is still one of the worst nights of my life.”

 

Axis slaps King on the back, earning an angry glare, though he doesn’t realize it. “Aw, c’mon King! Join the celebration! Ladies and gentleman, all our great SJL fans all over the world, this has been one of the most brutal cage matches I have ever seen, and an exhibition like no other from three men. One, who gave it his all, and can go on to the WF with true pride. One, who fought a clean matchup, and came so close to winning, that he certainly can’t be counted out now. And a third man, the luckiest of all. A fan-favorite, and perhaps someday, a household name, in the annals of wrestling history. CIA is our new SJL world champion! Yes!”

 

The cameras fade out, but strangely enough, there is still time in the show. Hmm…. Four match shows need extra commercials, I guess…..

[Guest Suicide King]

The cameras come alive once again and…what a minute…aren’t we suppost to be off-air by now? Ah, hell, here we go…

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” King says, “Welcome back to Smarks Junior League Metal…I guess…why…why aren’t we off the air, Axis?”

 

“I don’t know, King,” Axis says in response, “But according to my watch, we still have ten minutes left in the show.”

 

“Oh, crap, ten more minutes with you…” King murmurs, “Well, it better go by fast. I’ve got a skank in the car and…oh my, I shouldn’t say that on national television…”

 

“You mean the guy you came to the arena with?” Axis jokes, “And hey…where’s Edwin?”

 

Edwin MacPhisto, the current Smarks Junior League Commissioner stands in the ring, next to the new champion, C.I.A. The secret agent man stands proudly, but sweaty and tired, with the SJL World Heavyweight Championship draped over his shoulder. Edwin stands the same, with his SWF World Heavyweight Championship over his shoulder as well. Each stands with a microphone, standing tall and proud.

 

“Mr. C.I.A., let me be the first to say to you, CONGRADULATIONS ON YOUR SMARKS JUNIOR LEAUGE CHAMPIONSHIP WIN!” Edwin says.

 

The crowd explodes, as usual.

 

“Thank you, Edwin, but it wasn’t just me,” C.I.A. says.

 

“Oh, no, don’t say it…” King groans.

 

“There was someone else that helped me with this win…”

 

“Oh lord, don’t say it!”

 

“Actually, it was more than one person…it was…”

 

“DON’T SAY IIIIIIITTTTT!”

 

“It was AAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL YOU FANS OUT THERE!”

 

“AUGH HE SAID IT!”

 

But King’s yelp of anger is drowned out by the giant chant of ‘C.I.A.! C.I.A.!’. The fans rise to their feet as Edwin takes the microphone once again.

 

“I see promising things in you, kid…very, very promising things in you. Don’t you give up…this dream!” Edwin says, pointing to the JL Title belt. C.I.A. smiles, as Edwin turns once again to the crowd.

 

“And further more, I just want to say that tonight has been…UUUUGGGHHH!!”

 

No, Edwin doesn’t really say ugh, he helps in pain as, as it seems that Mak Francis had come from the entrance way and punched Edwin in the back of the head from behind! C.I.A. turns around to see Mak Francis, as he dives in a superkick, but Mak Francis ducks and delivers a picture-perfect German Suplex to C.I.A.! Mak stands up once more, only to get clotheslined down by Commissioner MacPhisto, as the crowd explodes!

 

“My lord! Mak Francis came through the crowd to attack Commissioner Edwin and C.I.A., but it looks like his plan totally backfired!” Axis says.

 

“Look! Not so fast!” King says, as Mike Van Silcen, Fugue, and Y2K run from the back and into the ring, as their leader, Mak Francis, is being stomped down by Edwin and C.I.A.! The three sWo members enter the ring, as they begin to attack Edwin and C.I.A.!

 

“NO FAIR! NO FAIR! IT’S TWO ON FOUR HERE!” Axis says, “WHAT A DISGUSTING…OH MY GOD! LOOK!”

 

Out of nowhere, Matt Myers jumps the barricade, as he slides under the bottom rope and into the ring! Mak Francis, who is stomping the fallen Edwin, is pulled away from the Commissioner, as Matt Myers stands in front of ‘The Franchise’. The two meet eyes, as the other three sWo members come and walk up behind their leader, as Myers is not yet intimintated by any of them.

 

“Oh my god, King, this could explode at ANY MOMENT…” Axis says.

 

“What’s going to happen? What’s going to happen?” King ponders.

 

Myers looks back at the fans, as he begins to walk away…and surprisingly, Mak Francis does that as well…

 

“Phew. We just avoided a horrible mis-communication there!” King exclaims…

 

…BUT THEY RUSH AT EACHOTHER ONCE MORE, FULL SPEED, FISTS RAISED…

 

“OH NOOOO!” King screams.

 

….As they stop…and hug.

 

“OOOHHH YYYEESS!” King screams once more.

 

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Axis says.

 

The friendly hug between Myers and Mak Francis is exchanged, as all the five sWo members have wide smiles etched on their face. Myers pauses, as he turns to Edwin and C.I.A., who are now standing, but eyes wide at the sight. Myers shrugs, as Mak Francis kicks Edwin in the gut, and suplexes Edwin up into the air and cradles him, as he slams him down in a Franchise Tag! The crowd imidelty explodes in boos, meanwhile, Matt Myers delivers a spinning-wheel kick to the body of C.I.A., knocking the poor JL Champion down, as Myers throws C.I.A. out of the ring. Myers then sees the fallen Edwin…

 

“Oh, come on, Matt don’t…” Axis pleads.

 

…And Myers jumps up to the top turnbuckle, as he turns so he’s facing Edwin…

 

“No, don’t do this!” Axis pleads once more…

 

…As he takes a leap of faith off the top rope, in a 5-Star Frogsplash, as he comes down on the JL Commissioner in a senton bomb! Myers rolls over, as MVS and Y2K help the co-leader up to his feet, as “Ashes In The Fall” blast though the arena.

 

“Oh, this is horrible! I can’t believe this! We have a new JL Champion…the sWo is once again re-united with it’s leader, Matt Myers…they all just also brutally attacked the Commissioner…what will be Edwin’s state next show? What about the new Champion? Folks, make sure to tune into the next show, same time, same place, same channel to get the answer to these questions and more. And as always, I’m Axis…”

 

“And I’m The Suicide King! Tune in next time, folks! Hahahahaha!”

 

The camera zooms in on Edwin’s aching body, as the show starwipes, and another JL Metal comes to an end…

[Guest Suicide King]

TV Title #1 Contendership Match

Cutthroat vs. Fugue

- Anyone really surprised here?

 

Kamikaze promo part one! And he didn’t even have a match! I like this kid.

 

Open Challenge

Tony “The Ironman” Brogan vs. ??

- And the dark side of open challenges rears its ugly head as Ironman has the holy bejeezus stomped out of him by Silent.

 

 

European Title #1 Contendership Match

Insane Luchador vs. John Cougar vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. Mike Van Siclen

- Hooray for Hollywood!

 

Kamikaze promo part two! He shall be rewarded!

 

MAIN EVENT

World Title CAGE~! Match

Renegade © vs. C.I.A. vs. "The Franchise" Mak Francis

- The winner… and new World Heavyweight champ… read the match, chuckleheads.