SJL Crimson, September 1st

[Guest crusen86]

Now - for a special dark match!

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

Pyros go off as SJL Crimson begins another night of action-packed wrestling! The camera slowly pans out over the wild capacity crowd in San Jose, showing signs like “THOR SHALL RAGNA-ROCK YOUR WORLD!”, “WHERE ARE YOU, CIA?”, and “THE ONLY REAL MAN IS HERE IS THE FRANCHISE MAN!”.

 

With a quick cut, we see the announcing table and our three familiar announcers at the table.

 

“Hello tonight! I’m your play-by-play announcer, Axis, live from SJL Crimson in San Jose California. To my right, as always, is our beloved SJL commissioner, current SWF Heavyweight Champion, the Crown Price of Flash and Panache, Edwin MacPhisto!”

 

Edwin stands up, receives mega-pops from the crowd, and sits back down to respond.

 

“Always a pleasure, my peculiar Australian amigo!”

 

Axis turns back at the camera and speaks again.

 

“And to my left as always, is the former SWF World Heavyweight Champion, the self-serving, self-absorbed man you love to loathe, breaker of hearts and heads, the Suicide King!”

 

Suicide King bends his chair back leisurely and puts his feet up on the announcing table. With a little grin he half-heartedly puts his arms out to open himself up for the fans, instantly causing the crowd to rain a torrent of boos upon him.

 

“Ah, I still have it. Nice to know that as retiree I still have more heat than most people that are active right now.” He says, basking in all his infamous glory. “Oh, by the way Axis, you still suck.”

 

Axis rolls his eyes, sighs, and turns away from King and speaks back into the camera.

 

“Tonight we have a mystery dark match for our viewers. Firstly, as everyone knows, Matthew Kivell, our most prominent referee and dark match wrestler, was injured weeks ago by SWF Hardcore Champion, Jay Dawg. So for today’s match Edwin has chosen a mystery replacement to fight the new blood.”

 

As Axis finishes the statement, the speakers begin to play a familiar melody as the first fighter appears. The keyboard chords of “Don’t You Forget About Me” by Simple Minds come over the announcement system as blue pyros shoot up into the air. When the pyros come down, standing there is Anthony Michael Hall of “The Breakfast Club” fame! He walks down in black jeans and a black tee-shirt, slapping the hands of the fans who reach out into the entrance ramp. “Weighing in at 163 lbs, you know him as Brian from ‘The Breakfast Club’, Anthony…. Michael…. HALLLL!” The crowd pops again during the Funyon part as Hall climbs between the ropes and into his corner.

 

King takes his feet off the table and looks across at Edwin. “You picked ‘Brian’ from ‘The Breakfast Club’? He’s a twig!” Edwin shrugs his shoulders and replies “Well, he hasn’t been actively working for us in ages. Plus, ‘The Breakfast Club’ is one of my favorite movies.” Edwin starts to do a little groove in his chair to the theme music as King slaps his forehead and Axis continues on with the commentary. “He looks like he’s real quick, but can he even hold up against the challenger?”

 

Again, as if on cue from Axis’ words, the lights dim and the arena becomes a faint red. “NOW TESTIFY” is shouted across the speaker system as Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify” starts in mid-song and flaming pyros shoot out from the entranceway. A silhouette appears from behind the flames, and as the fires die down out walks an older man in black flowing robes. The robes cover his body but not his head, which shows a stony face with a clean cut gray beard and hair. King sits up in his chair and quips “Thank God we have someone to fill in for badass Judd Nelson to smack Hall around like the bitch he is.”

 

“Now entering the ring weighing 266 pounds, the prosecutor of pain… Judge…. MENTAL!!” The crowd watches and instinctively boos the new heel as the veteran ignores them completely. Mental climbs into the ring, throws off his robe to reveal black wrestling pants that say ‘Judge Mental’ in red lettering. The man stretches out and readies himself for the match.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

The match begins and both fighters come out of their corners and circle each other. Hall tries to attack first, throwing a weak punch, but it is easily brushed to the side by Mental’s forearm. Another punch from Hall impacts on Mental’s chest, causing him to step back a little but not much more. Mental strikes back with a jab that sends Hall off balance and a quick kick to the right leg. Hall stumbles backward, and Mental runs up with a dropkick, knocking Hall straight to the ground. Mental gets up and does a quick elbow drop on the right leg, followed by another elbow drop onto the same leg.

 

“Mental is already beginning to work the leg of Anthony Michael Hall, which could stop him from even trying some of his quicker moves.” Axis interjects.

 

King looks at him and says “Quick moves? I’m guessing you mean the ‘Have my acting career go down the drain like Emilio Estevez’ move.”

 

Hall gets up a little wobbly on his right side from the working-over it just got, but he looks to be in good form. Mental tries to punch him again, but Hall ducks and gives him a quick roundhouse kick to the temple. Mental is put off balance by the kick, and shakes off the momentary discombobulation, but finds that Hall is gone. Hall has run behind him, hit the ropes, and as Mental turns around he sees a flying Hall coming right at him. Hall throws up his legs, wraps them around Mental’s neck, swings around, and flings Mental to the ground with a flying head scissors!

 

“Hall pulls off an incredible move that grounds Mental!”

 

“I told you he could wrestle, King.” Edwin says to King, who looks at the ring with mouth agape after the last move.

 

Hall rolls to his feet, as does Mental. Hall again makes the first move, attempting a quick right kick at Mental. Mental catches it, and Hall jumps up with his other foot to hit Mental in the temple with an enzugiri. Mental is pushed back a little, but he holds onto Hall’s leg, and turns Hall’s small bit of offense against him. Mental gets on top of the fallen Hall, who now lies on his stomach after landing the enzugiri, and pulls the right leg back for a Half Boston Crab! He locks in the leg under his arm and pulls back on it, causing Hall to scream out in pain.

 

“Hall thought he had the best of Mental by pulling an enzugiri, but it seems like Mental knew exactly how to counter it.” Axis postulates.

 

“How come you can postulate while King and I can only say or quip things?” Edwin asks.

 

“Well, I’m the real announcer. I get to do fancy stuff like that while you two goof off.”

 

“Yeah, so what? I quip stuff, but then again, I don’t get locked in sheds, either.” King quips in.

 

Axis grumbles something about “It was only one time… well maybe two…” and goes back to doing the play by play. Hall screams and reaches desperately for the ropes that are just out of reach. Mental torques the leg even harder, causing Hall to scream like a little girl and King to laugh. The crowd, watching the pain Hall is in, begins to chant.

 

“Brian!”

 

“Brian!”

 

“BRIAN!”

 

“BRIAN!”

 

King looks around at the crowd and says “What type of idiots would chant ‘Brian’ when the guy’s name is Anthony?” He looks over and sees Edwin leading the chant from his chair. “Figures…”

 

Anthony desperately tries to reach the ropes again, but Mental pulls back on the leg even harder. Suddenly, Anthony makes a do-or-die attempt for the rope, putting everything into that last push and...

 

…

 

…

 

Wait for it…

 

…

 

…

 

Reaches the ropes!

 

“Hall makes a last ditch attempt for the ropes and makes it!” Axis shouts over the massive cheering of the crowd. “But can he hold on for the five-count?”

 

 

 

ONE!

 

Mental pulls the leg to its fullest, trying to get Hall to tap out…

 

TWO!

 

Hall grips the rope hard, gritting his and crying out in pain waiting for the break…

 

THREE!

 

The fans, motivated by Edwin, chant harder in hopes that Anthony will hang in there…

 

FOUR!

 

King is eating a sandwich, but notices the camera is on him and tries to look interested in the count with a mouth full of corn beef…

 

 

 

 

FIVE!

 

“The ref gets Mental to break the submission! But can Anthony even walk after that?” Axis questions.

 

 

Hall limps up as Mental gives him an open-palmed slap across the face, spinning Hall around to face away from Mental. Mental grabs him around the waist and begins a German Suplex with him. Mental brings him up, but Hall manages to wiggle out of the hold, getting out of the suplex and flipping himself around so that he falls to the ground on his feet right behind Mental. Mental, nearly bent all the way over like a limbo man, nearly tips himself over, but Hall wraps his arm around Mental’s neck and pulls off a reverse DDT!

 

“INCREDIBLE REVERSAL BY HALL AND NOW THE CROWD IS ON THEIR FEET!” yells Axis.

 

“How could he do that? He’s a 150 lb weakling who tried to kill himself with a flare gun!” King cries.

 

“Well, King, we know that you just see him as a nerd but inside each and every one of us is…” Eddie Mac trails off.

 

“A brain…” says the superimposed voice of Brian.

 

“An athlete…” says the voice of Andrew.

 

“A basket case…” says the voice of Allison.

 

“A princess…” says the voice of Claire.

 

“And a criminal…” says the voice of John Bender.

 

King looks around and asks “Edwin, where the hell did those voices come from?” but Edwin is already back to watching the match.

 

With Mental still down from the reverse DDT, Hall goes to the turnbuckle as quickly as he can with the injured leg and begins to climb it. Mental still isn’t stirring as Hall gets to the top of the turnbuckle and faces the crowd in an Olympic High dive position with his feet together and arms out for balance.

 

“I know this maneuver!” Shouts Edwin. “He’s gonna go for the BREAKFAST CLUB BOMB!” King and Axis both look at Edwin with confused looks and turn back to see what in God’s name he’s talking about.

 

AMH points to himself three times RVD-style and the crowd goes “A! M! H!” along with the movements. He goes back to the high dive position, his right leg begins to shake a little but slowly it stops. AMH jumps high into the air still facing the crowd, doing a forward-flip toward the center of the ring and landing his back…

 

 

 

 

ON NOTHING! He took so long to do the move that Mental had time to move out of the way!

 

“Yeah, that sure did bomb like you said it would, Edwin.” jokes King with a little chuckle.

 

Mental hooks the right leg hard and goes for the pin.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH-NO! Hall gets a shoulder up! Mental goes to argue with the ref about how the count was just a little too slow for his liking, but Anthony takes his chance and puts his arm between the Judge’s legs and pulls him over for a surprise roll-up pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

TH- NO! Mental kicks out strong!

 

“Two near falls for both men, but it seems like Mental hasn’t broken a sweat while Hall is struggling now to keep up.” Axis states. Indeed, Mental gets up quite quickly while Hall takes some time to get to his feet. Mental goes over to the skinny man, quickly gives Hall a smack to the temple, and puts Hall’s head between his legs. He grabs Hall’s arms, puts them into a straight-jacket hold, and Axis instantly recognizes what’s going on.

 

“Mental is setting Hall up for his finisher, Capital Punishment!” Axis explains.

 

Mental quickly and picks the man up into the Powerbomb position and sits out for the pin with Hall out like a light.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Mental gets off the fallen former movie star, grabs his robes, and begins to walk out as “Testify” begins to play. “Your winner by pinfall…. JUDGE MENTALLLL!” The crowd boos him as he silently steps up the entrance ramp with a devilish grin foreshadowing things to come.

 

“Well, the newcomer blast Hall into the ground, earning his official admission into the SJL.” declares Axis. Next up, Mason vs. Sharpe, Kamikaze vs. Blank, a three way Euro title bout between members of the sWo, a Steel Pipe-Ladder Match with MVS and the Psycho Mantis, and a three man cage match for the SJL World Title! Don’t go away!”

 

Fade to commercials…

[Guest crusen86]

SJL Crimson Card, September 1st

Arena: Cow Palace, San Jose, California.

 

SINGLES MATCH

Manson vs. Leon Sharpe

- Leon Sharpe was unable to get the win in his first match. His next assignment? Manson, ready to get back towards the World title. Good luck.

- Match Description: Standard.

 

SINGLES MATCH

Kamikaze vs. Blank

- Two impressive newbies go one on one in order to get one step closer to the elusive European title...

- Match Description: Standard.

 

EUROPEAN TITLE MATCH

Fugue © vs. Spike Jenkins vs. Matt Myers

- Spike and Matt wrestled to a no contest for a Euro shot on Wrath. Now they fight again, this time against fellow sWo member & European champion, Fugue, for the belt. Fun.

- Match Description: Elimination match. Countouts and DQs are in effect.

 

STEEL PIPE LADDER MATCH

Mike Van Siclen vs. Jacob Helmsley

- The pipe attacks run wild! After attack after attack, they get a match of fun.

- Match Description: Suspended above the ring is a steel pipe. To get it, they have to grab the ladder from ring side, and climb up. However, the match doesn't stop there - the first man to get the pinfall or submission wins. No other weapons bar the ladder and the pipe are allowed.

 

WORLD TITLE CAGE MATCH

Mak Francis © vs. C.I.A. vs. Thor

- Mak Francis has been unstoppable, bar one small pin, in the last month. Things are about to get a whole lot tougher though. Can he hope to pin either Thor or CIA in a modified cage match? Or will the two faces ally to destroy the sWo leader.

- Match Description: This is not your standard cage match. There is an open door on each side of the cage, and you can exit at any time. Why's the cage there then? Fun. It's a no DQ fest too.

[Guest crusen86]

Two large, red pyrotechnics soar to the stage from the ceiling of the arena and collide with the stage with a deafening boom. A chain reaction of smaller pyros escalates down both sides of the entrance ramp and culminates in one enormous earsplitting explosion from every orifice from which pyro ever emerged. The house lights begin to raise and the crowd cheers like mad as the camera sweeps across the crowd. Colorful and painstakingly created signs litter the arena.

 

Choice signs include “MYERS WILL POISYN THE FED!!”, “BIG MAK IS ON THE ATTACK!!”, and a dedicated few in the front row all wearing CIA’s red maple leaf shirt and holding a banner across the guard rail that says “CANADIAN STYLE!!”. The camera shifts focus to the commentators three, sitting at their table at ringside. The sounds of the crowd are deafening and they only fuel Axis’ always overbearing and almost hyperactive opening speech.

 

Axis: Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to SJL CRRIIIIIIIMSOOONN!! Tonight we have some stellar matches but right now we’re scheduled to hear a little bit from one of the men in the big main event tonight, the God of Thunder Thor!

 

Edwin: Thor took a HARD loss to Mak Francis on Wrath, but I can assure you, tonight, he is ready for action. Action which will take place inside a STEEL CAGE!!

 

King: Mak is gonna run roughshod over both the comic book reject and that Canadian freak CIA.

 

As was so eerily predicted by Axis just a moment ago, “God of Thunder” by KISS begins to rock the house, skipping the elaborate pyro and the opening chords. The music just begins to drive and Thor steps out through the curtain, his eyes locked on the ring. Apparently not himself tonight the Thunder God saunters down the ramp and steps over the top rope and into the ring. He has a deadly serious expression on his face as he asks for a mic from someone at ringside.

 

Thor speaks, not catering to the fans at all “Mak Francis... last week thou hast defeated me. An accomplishment indeed, thou hast scaled the mountain and toppled a god. For this task I commend thee. But that is not why I have come here tonight... ‘Twas thine comments that thou made before defeating the God of Thunder. Of these comments I have thought long and hard, for they have taken a heavy strain on my mind. Mortal, thou claimest that my entire career has relied on thee, that I would not have been where I am this day ‘twere it not for thine own success... and I agree.”

 

The crowd is a tad puzzled at Thor’s last statement as he stands unmoving in the ring. “When I first started in the SJL, I was given little more than a chance and an opportunity. I made good on that opportunity as almost every opponent in my path, kneeled before the God of Thunder. Then I came... to thee. The Television champion, and rightfully so. ‘Twas a perfect opportunity for me, my first shot at the gold... but my winning ways came to a screeching halt that day. Thor, the God of Thunder... had finally been defeated. The means for the loss did not concern me, but ‘twas the fact that after my eons of existence... I was defeated.

 

In true warrior’s fashion, I vowed that day that I would take my retribution on the one that hath defeated me. That retribution was hand when I took thine TV tile, but yet ‘twas not enow. For week after week, thine allies in the sWo made a mockery of me by attacking me backstage or during a match. Still I pressed on, adding more wins and e’en the European title. But yet, it was still not enow. And then thou becamest the champion. Thou reached the top of the federation, and there atop your throne you sit.”

 

Thor paces a bit while his mind focuses on his next thought. “Challenged for thine throne and thine belt numerous times, and all who attempted have been cast down. Then I stepped up to give it an Asgardian try, but I too was sent down with the rest... but not without a fight. You see “Franchise”, thou thought for sure that thou hadst me beaten when thou struck me down with the mighty Franchise Tag. Yet against all odds, against thine prediction earlier saying that no one could survive the Franchise Tag... I kicked out.”

 

The crowd pops for Thor’s last comment and he cracks a smile as he concludes. And tonight Mak Francis, tonight “Franchise”, tonight... champion. Thou willst not be so lucky as to defeat me. Not e’en the former champion CIA will be able to stop the one who will plow through all opposition in the cage. For tonight, I will make you know true pain. No cut or scrape or broken bone will be able to compare to the pain that thou willst feel tonight. I will bestow upon thee the most horrendous blow that thou can e’en imagine...

 

[Thor stares into the camera]

 

I...

 

will...

 

take...

 

thine...

 

title...

 

and thou shalt kneel... before the God of Thunder.”

 

With that last statement his music hits and Thor drops the mic. He quietly exits the ring and marches back up the ramp from whence he came with the crowd cheering loudly behind him.

[Guest crusen86]

::Boom!::

 

::BOOM!::

 

::BOOM!!::

 

Bursts of wild pyro scream down from the rafters hanging above the ring inside the Cow Palace, the site of tonight's edition of SJL Crimson! Meanwhile, the distorted guitar riffs of Crimson's theme song blare, as a camera sweeps over the attendee's heads, capturing some clever and witty fan signs, along with the standard trite and unoriginal creations. The giant but lovable, Pepsi Max obsessed Australian welcomes the fans watching at home, in typical fashion, as his cohorts, the current SWF Champion Edwin MacPhisto, and the hated Suicide King stand-by.

 

"(Axis) Welcome to Crimson! We're coming to you live from The Cow Palace, located in San Jose, California. It's a big show we have set-up for you tonight, as always…"

 

"(Edwin) I'm always aiming to please. Tonight, we have a Steel Pipe Ladder Match between Jacob Helmsley and Mike Van Siclen, along with a European Title Match pitting the Champion, Fugue, against the challengers Spike Jenkins and Matthew Myers. Of course, we still have our Main Event… As the SJL Champion Mak Francis, faces off against CIA and Thor in a Cage!"

 

"(King) It's a collision…rage IN a cage, by gawd."

 

"(Axis, staring blankly at Suicide King) Uh…huh."

 

"(King) You see, what I did there was rhyme rage with cage. You could learn something from me."

 

The house lights dim, as "Something Bad Is Gonna Happen" by Fenix TX starts to play in the arena, as the fans let out huge pop. Leon Sharpe walks out onto the stage, with a duffel bag full of his t-shirts, stopping along his way to the ring to try and convince a random fan sitting along the ramp to purchase his wares. The fan refuses, and Sharpe continues on his way down the ramp.

 

"(Funyon) The following contest is a Singles Match, scheduled for One-Fall! First, making his way down to the ring, weighing in at an even three-hundred pounds and hailing from Detroit, Michigan… He is, Leon SHARPE!"

 

Sharpe hops up onto the ring apron, and steps over the top rope, heading for a corner with his duffel bag full of merchandise in hand. Leon drops the bag at Matthew Kivell's feet and orders him to take care of it's contents, as he takes off his own shirt and takes it ringside, attempting to sell it to a somewhat lucky fan.

 

"(Axis) Sharpe really should be in the ring, actually on his guard and prepared for the match. Not trying to dump his cheesy shirts onto our audience."

 

"Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong rings out over the sound system, and the SmarkTron comes to life with a grainy entrance video, colored in shades of gray. Leon Sharpe looks up towards the stage as bloody red strobe lights flash on and off in the arena, immediately climbing back onto the apron and into the ring as Manson tosses aside the entrance curtain. He stops at the head of the rampway and stretches his arms, standing in the crucifix position, before breaking his pose and walking down to the ring.

 

"(Funyon) And weighing in at two-hundred and fifteen pounds, from New York, New York… He is, MMAAANSON!"

 

Manson slowly makes his way down to the ring, focused on his destination. As he approaches the ring, he rolls under the bottom rope, immediately tossing off his jacket towards ringside as he pops back up. Matthew Kivell signals for the bell.

 

::DING DING::

 

"(Axis) We're ready, and both men ready to square off here."

 

"(Edwin) Would it be alright if I just called Leon "Kevin Nash" for the entire match?"

 

"(Axis) No."

 

Manson and Sharpe circle each other in the middle of the ring, and Manson dives for a leg trip, forcing Leon onto his back. The former Mafia grabs the left leg of Sharpe, and attempts a quick Legbar, but Sharpe raises his free leg and kicks him off. Sharpe pushes himself up onto his feet, and is immediately met by Manson, who locks up with him in the Collar-Elbow. Manson struggles as he pushes Leon Sharpe as far back as he can, but the big man is too strong, and Sharpe pushes him off. Manson takes a fall backwards, and bounces back up, only to get blasted with sick Big Boot by a charging Leon Sharpe.

 

"(Axis) Jesus Christ, how does someone like Manson fight a giant like Sharpe? He reminds me of myself before the SWF crushed my spirit."

 

"(King) Except that Sharpe has more talent."

 

"(Edwin) Zing!"

 

Manson grabs his jaw and stands, his head ringing from the impact of the Big Boot, as Leon takes Manson's arm and whips him to the ropes with ease. Manson nearly springs off, but he takes a hold of the ropes with his arms, and ducks outside the ring, taking refuge for the time being.

 

"BOOO!"

 

"(King) The fans getting on Manson's case, for no reason at all. Those silly rubes."

 

Manson regains his composure on the outside, with his back to the ring, as Sharpe approaches from behind. Leon reaches over the top rope, and grabs at Manson's long black hair, pulling him up onto the apron. Manson though, takes a hold of Sharpe's head and pulls him down across the top rope, freeing himself from the clutches of his rival. Sharpe lays on the ground favoring his neck, as Manson hops onto the apron and proceeds to ascend to the top rope, stalking Leon Sharpe.

 

"(Edwin) I think he's gonna fly…!"

 

Leon rolls up off the mat, and Manson leaps off the top turnbuckle, attempting a Flying Cross Body. A stop is put to that, as Sharpe catches him in mid-air, and Gorilla Presses him up into the air, before sending Manson a long way down, slamming him into the mat. Manson reels, as Leon Sharpe goes for a lax cover and Matt Kivell counts.

 

"One!"

 

"(Axis) Kickout just after one! Surprising to see Manson, or anyone for that matter, kick out of a move like that with relative ease."

 

"(King) The asshat didn't even go for a proper cover."

 

Manson shakes off the impact, and gets up to his knees, before Sharpe drops an elbow.forcing him back down. Manson keeps attempting to stand, and finally he does as Sharpe backs off. The attack continues though, as Sharpe takes the arm of Manson and whips him into the ropes. Sharpe tries for a lariat on the bounce, ducked by Manson. Sharpe turns back around off the missed attempt, only to catch a stiff Roundhouse Kick to the left knee. Sharpe hobbles for a split-second, as Manson heads for the ropes and springs off, getting some momentum up for a low dropkick to the same knee.

 

"(Axis) Manson finally getting his strategy going here, as he attacks the leg of Leon Sharpe."

 

"(Edwin) A good gameplan. Despite his attitude, he's always been a smart guy inside the ring."

 

Sharpe grabs the ropes for a bit of support, as Manson lurks behind, hooking Sharpe around the waist and just lifting him up and over with a Backdrop Suplex. Sharpe hits the mat, allowing Manson to go to work once again on the knee. He bolsters the left leg of Sharpe to the mat with his hands, and dives down with a knee drop into the crux of the leg, onto the knee joint. Sharpe reaches out for the ropes, effectively grabbing onto them, as Manson prepares for another attack. Matthew Kivell stands in his way though, preventing Manson from carrying on with the onslaught. Manson pushes him away, and during the melee, Sharpe manages to roll-up Manson for a pinning predicament…

 

"(Axis) Surprise Roll-Up!"

 

"One!"

 

"Two!"

 

"(Axis) Kickout!"

 

Manson looks out at the crowd in disbelief, which soon turns to anger, as he storms off the mat and clips Sharpe in the back of his leg as Leon attempts to stand. Sharpe lets out a cry of anguish as he grabs his knee and hits the mat once again, and Manson takes a run towards the ropes, announcer table side. With Leon still down, Manson springs off the second rope, flipping backwards in mid-air and attempting a Quebrada Moonsault! But Manson is stopped in his tracks by the hard, cold mat as Leon Sharpe rolls out of way!

 

"(Edwin) LionSault failed!"

 

Manson takes a moment on the mat, before coming to a stand, but he meets a stinging lariat for his troubles. The tenacious Manson rebounds off the mat though, and is immediately driven to a corner by the imposing Leon Sharpe. Sharpe lays in a couple of elbows to the head, but before he can complete a trifecta of shots, Manson worms his way out of the tight spot, as Sharpe is now in the corner. Manson lays in a kick to the gut, and climbs up top to lay in the 10-punch combo.

 

"One"

 

"Two"

 

"Three"

 

"Four"

 

On the fifth attempt though, Sharpe props Manson up onto his shoulders, and drives him down to the mat with a huge Powerbomb!

 

"(Axis) The Powerbomb, off the punches in the corner by Manson… Let's see if Sharpe can capitalize."

 

Sharpe re-thinks a pin attempt, as Manson lays flat on the mat, instead opting to hop up onto the mid-turnbuckle. Sharpe looks out towards the crowd who cheer him on, and he jumps off with a single arm pointed out towards the side, the point of which is positioned to drive itself into Manson's heart…

 

"(Axis) Leon Sharpe, going for the Elbowdrop off the second turnbuckle."

 

But it doesn't connect! Like what Sharpe had done earlier, Manson rolls out of the way in the nick of time, in order to avoid the high-risk maneuver. Sharpe hits the ground with the loud-sounding thud you would expect from a six-foot ten, three-hundred pounder such as Leon Sharpe.

 

"(Edwin) He missed it!"

 

"(King) Well, if Manson couldn't hit anything earlier, you expect Sharpe to?"

 

Both men struggle up to their feet, with assistance of the ropes, as Matthew Kivell waves off a standing 10-count, and the two spaghetti-legged competitors plot out their next plan of attack in their heads, as the match continues onward. Manson is first to show his hand, as the speedster dives in, going for the legs again. Leon Sharpe is well-aware of the attempt, as he brushes off Manson with a simple push. This doesn't deter him, as he charges forth with a running Knee Lift, heading for the stomach of Sharpe. Sharpe catches the leg, and throws it down, spinning Manson around in his place. As Manson turns to face Sharpe, Sharpe lays in a hard right fist to the face. The dazed Manson shakes out the cobwebs to find Leon setting up Manson for the dreaded Exploder Suplex. Halfway up, Manson delivers a hard chop to the base of Leon's neck, forcing him to break the attempted throw. Leon collapses to his knees, a devastating effect of the attack to his neck, and Manson measures up Sharpe, delivering a series of the same chops to Sharpe.

 

"(Axis) Both seem to have gotten their second wind, as Manson breaks up the Exploder Suplex with a stiff chop to the neck, followed by a rapid-fire series of the same."

 

Leon Sharpe holds up his hands in defense, catching the arm of Manson in his grasp. Sharpe shoots off a twisted smile in Manson's direction, evident that the end is near. Sharpe rotates his neck, in order to alleviate the effects of the last attack, as he wraps a hand around Manson's throat and lifts him up into the air. Manson, thinking quickly, lets loose a thunderous kick to the thigh of Leon Sharpe. Sharpe doesn't relent, and Manson strikes with another kick, forcing Sharpe to let go. Manson drops for another low kick to the left knee of Leon Sharpe, making contact and re-focusing on his previous strategy. Manson trips up Leon Sharpe, and hooks his arm around the leg of Sharpe, twisting him around and trying to force him onto his stomach. Sharpe fights him off, and hobbles up off the ground, raising anger and frustration in Manson.

 

"(Axis) Well, Manson nearly got a hold on, but Sharpe had the foresight to get out of it. It could've been over right there if he hadn't."

 

Manson, with a red flush on his face, charges Sharpe again, but the big man is prepared for him this time. In a display of strength of pure desire, Sharpe braves the pain in his leg and lifts up Manson into a Gorilla Press, transitioning Manson into a Tomstone Piledriver position. Manson frantically struggles, before laying in measured punches to the left thigh and knee of Leon Sharpe. Sharpe drops Manson, who crawls in-between the legs of the still standing Sharpe, and locking in the Elevated Single Crab onto the left leg perfectly. Sharpe takes a face-first fall to the mat, pain etched in his face, as Manson strangles his leg, attempting to rip tendons, ligaments and muscle from bone. Finally, after a valiant effort to attempt and reach the ropes, Sharpe taps, and Kivell signals for the bell…

 

::DING DING::

 

"(Funyon) Your winner, by Submission… MAAANSON!"

 

"(Axis) A great match, as Manson takes a win away from Sharpe by way of his Elevated Half-Crab…"

 

"(Edwin) An honorable effort by both tonight."

 

"(King) Manson worked the leg throughout the entire match, as he figured that it'd be the only way to win this one… It all paid off."

 

"Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" continues to play in the arena, as Manson crawls out of the ring, basking in his hard-fought victory, and Leon Sharpe pulls himself to his feet, obviously upset at not only losing today, but tapping out.

 

"(Axis) Up next, is a Singles Match between Kamikaze and Blank, you're watching Crimson…"

[Guest crusen86]

Edwin: “All right we’re back...Great opening match and now we move right into a better one?”

King: “Heh maybe if your blind or just like crappy wrestling..”

Axis: “Well we seen a little of Kaze..But not much of the other new rookie Blank..”

King: “I’ll give it to him for winning his first match and that red mist was not too bad either...”

Edwin “Hmmm the red mist probably won’t have much of an effect if used on Kamikaze..He is so crazy he might think he is bleeding and really go nuts...”

Axis: “Yeah that's why I hired this guy for the match..”*A body guard walks up from behind the announce table standing behind Axis*

Edwin: “You really think the match will get that out of hand or are you really such a wuss?”

King: “Alright calm down girls the here comes Kamikaze...”

 

“I Stand Alone” by God smack roars up onto the speakers of the stadium. The camera scrolls through the crowd viewing various Kaze signs before looking up to the entrance way were the mad man himself is standing. He quickly rushes down to the ring sliding on in under the bottom rope he runs over to the nearest corner and raises his hand “KAAMIKAAAZZEEEE!!”

 

King: “Well I would say he is definitely all jacked up for his match...”

Edwin: “Um...actually I think he is always that weird...”

 

“Wha Wha Wha Hit it!” goes across the speakers blasting Quarashi’s “stick ‘em up “ As the camera shows Blank performing a ollie right out from the back through the entrance way...He kicks his bored up and throws it into the crowd as various fans try to grab for it he makes his way to the ring.

 

Axis: “Well is this match over yet or do I have to sit through the whole boring process of two losers beating each other up?”

King: “Shut up already...!’

 

Blank stand just in front of the ring apron as he turns to raise his hands looking all over at the crowd gathered. Kamikaze can’t wait any longer as he goes flying through the ropes with a suicide dive right into Blank’s back. The ref jumps quickly out of the ring trying to get the two into the ring so this thing can get started. Kaze is the first up and quickly leaps into the ring. Once in Blank grabs his leg out from under Kamikaze from the outside. Blank the enters the ring with a spring board leg drop miss as Kaze rolls out of the way leaving Blank sitting on the ground with a very hurt spine. The ring bell rings and the match can begin officially.

 

Edwin: “It’s about time they got the show on the road...”

Axis: “Maybe they should hit the road and get out of here...”

King: “...”*He goes to make another comment directed towards Axis as the body guard looks down at him*”Hey Axis did you get a hair cut?’

Axis: “Nope but I did lose some weight!”

 

Kaze spring off the ropes and drop kicks right into the sitting Blank’s face dropping him down onto the bottom rope behind him. Kaze then sees an opportunity to inflict more pain as he sling shots Blank up into the second rope. Kaze is smiling like a psycho as he sees Blank rolling around holding his neck gasping for breath. Kaze goes in to pick Blank up the hair as Blank gets up he uses his old faithful poke to Kaze’s eyes. He follows it up quickly with a DDT driving the crazy man’s head straight into the ring with a painful thud.

Edwin: “Well that can’t be too good for his mental stability...”

Axis: “What mental stability?”

King: “...”*He slips the body guard a 20$ when Axis turns his head*

 

Blank leaps up to his feet after delivering his move and quickly raises his hands show boating as Kaze begins to pull himself up using the ropes over in the corner of the ring. blank notes this and quickly dash right at Kaze before receiving a boot to the face turn him back holding his face. Kaze runs at Blank and drops him to the ground with a powerful bulldog. Kaze then looks about the ring paranoid about something no one is really sure..But suddenly he begins to stomp the downed Blank rather violently before the ref has to step in and pull him back. As Blank begins to rise to his feet Kaze irish whips him across the ring and the catches him with the stalling powerslam landing right in the middle of the ring.

 

Edwin: “Could that be enough?”

Axis: “Well lets hope so huh?”

 

The ref runs down sliding onto the mat and begins to make his count..

 

1..!!!!

 

2...!!!

 

The crowd cheers along with the count...

 

thr....!!!

 

King: “Nope..Looks like he will just have to try a little harder...”

 

Blank kicks out and Kaze can’t believe it as he asks the ref and he just repeats that the count was only two. As Kaze screams at the ref Blank rises up and jumps up onto Kaze shoulders and goes for the victory rolls..

 

1...!

 

2...!

 

Reversal..Kaze rolls over so he is now pinning the skate ninja..

 

1...!

 

2...!

 

Kaze breaks up his own pin to get off the man and deliver 4 quick elbows in succession before crawling back onto Blank going for the cover once more.

 

1...!

 

2...!

 

No another kick out and Kaze can’t believe it he is almost going sane..He runs out of the ring grabbing a steal chair he gets back into the ring.

 

King: “What's he going to do with that?”

Axis: “Well he for sure isn’t going to hand it over to Blank..”

 

Kaze rolls back into the ring and sure enough he actually hands the chair to Blank.

 

Edwin: “What!”

Axis:”...”

King: “maybe he is going to do that?”

 

Blank of course takes the chair and quickly strike Kaze straight in the skull Kaze is able to stand still wobbling about a little as the ref calls for the bell with this match ending in a DQ.

 

King: “He is still standing?”

Axis: “I don’t think that's a good thing...”

 

Blank pulls the chair back again striking Kaze in the head once more knocking him to the ground..He then throws the chair down laughing at the downed insaniac. Kaze lays on his back in the middle of the ring as the ref tries to pull Blank away he shoves him down by his face. Blank the raises his hands in the air as his music kicks on he steps half way through the ropes before looking back at Kaze’s body laying in the ring..An evil smile goes across his face as he goes back into the ring.

 

Edwin: “Hey I thought the match was over...Axis send in your body guard..”

Axis: “No way I didn’t pay him that much..”

 

Blank sets the chair onto Kazes back before leaping up onto the top rope and then flying down delivering the MY FINAL HEAVEN! Blank falls of of Kaze holding his stomach in pain after delivering that high impact move. He slowly gets up raising his hands he falls out of the ring and proceeds to walk up to the entrance ramp.

 

Edwin: That guy can’t ever just leave after his match can he?”

Axis: “You could say he likes to put in a little over time I guess..”

King: “Well can some one go get Kaze out of the ring...So we can start the next one..”

 

EMT’s are in the ring as we fade to commercial.

[Guest crusen86]

The six foot two frame of “The Franchise” Mak Francis stands in his trademark shades, full wrestling attire and his Brand new black tee shirt which has the words “The Franchise” Mak Francis on the front and “Money in the Bank” printed over three large green dollar signs on the back. Ben Hardy stands next to him in the back with cameraman Gus as he receives his cue.

 

“Hello my name is Ben Hardy and I’m here with Mak Francis.” States Ben Hardy. “Mak what do you have to say about your triple threat match tonight.”

 

“Wait first let’s talk about my new tee shirt. The production monkeys said any tee shirt that they make for me is money in the bank and thus my new shirt is born.” Francis smiles and pats his belt that is slung over his left shoulder.

 

“Okay…well can we get back to the matter at hand?”

 

“There is no matter at hand.”

 

“Well can we discuss your up coming match.”

 

“Well Ben I don’t have much to say about it. I could come out here and tell Thor I’m going to kick his ass again but I don’t need to.”

 

“Uh…I believe you just did…” answers Hardy pausing for a second. He opens his mouth about to ask another question.

 

“And I’m not here to talk about CIA either.” Adds Francis quickly before the question is asked.

 

“…So what did you want to talk about Mak?”

 

“I was getting to that Hardy, show some patience or I’ll knock it into you!” States Francis his eyes darting towards Ben Hardy behind his ice blue sunglasses™. “Anyways I’m here to talk about my reign as World Champion. Do you know what today is Hardy?”

 

“September first -”

 

Mak Francis turns away from Ben Hardy and stares straight at the screen. “Yes, September first. Do you know it’s been practically a month since I gained the Smarks Junior Leagues World Heavyweight Championship?” asks Francis rhetorically. “Quite an accomplishment isn’t it.”

 

Ben gets ready to answer but quickly gets cut off at the pass. “Don’t answer that Hardy of course it is! I’m the best damn champion this fed has seen in a long time and I don’t intend on losing now. Did you see what I did to Thor? I could have crippled him but I stopped and decided to let him walk. But I must admit that I’m surprised he can even walk after all that I did.”

 

Francis points at the camera before starting again. “And CIA better take notes because I won’t hesitate to take him out. And yes Ben that was a warning. I’m the best wrestler in this goddamn fed and everyone knows it, whether they like it or not.”

 

Hardy has to nod his head in agreement for fear of getting beat down but Francis just shoves him out of the picture as he begins to speak again.

 

“I will win and you will lose… it’s just one perk of being me a true Franchise. I can do whatever I want to whomever I want cause like the shirt says I’m Money in the Bank…”

 

The Franchise takes off his ice blue shades in what has become a tradition in his pre match interviews over the last few weeks and speaks his now common phrase and regularly bleeped out phrase in recaps.

 

“And who the fuck are you to tell me other wise.”

[Guest crusen86]

Everyone in the match no-showed, so Edwin let me kill everyone in a quick blurb...so just put this where the match would go, as this is its replacement.

 

SJL CRIMSON-PALOOZA RETURNS FROM A BREAK, AND THE CROWD GOES INTO A FRENZY OF BOOS, ‘CAUSE NO-SHOWERS SUCK! THE CAMERA HONES IN ON ANNOUNCERS BOB RILEY AND MA--…oh right, sorry, I’m not used to writing JL commentators…who were they again? Uh…oh well, I’ll just improvise as I go along. So, William Shatner, Goro, and Munich sit at the announcer’s table, picking at eachother’s asses or whatever commentators do while left to themselves.

 

Shatner: “Mission Log…we’re…BACK here at…SJL…Crimson and the status quo of the show seems to be…around the midpoint…the…NEXT match looks to be…exciting.”

 

G0R0: “G0R0 IS BEINGZ EXCITEDEDED!!!!!! G0R0 LOOKIGZ FORWARD TO AMIZINGZ TECHNICAL SHOWDOWNZ!!! G0R0 WET HIS PANTZ WITH EXCITEDZMENT!!!! G0R0 HAVE NO PANTZ!”

 

Munich: “…who the fuck is this guy? He sucks…EVERYONE SUCKS! YOU SUCK SHATNER! THOSE INFOMERCIALS YOU DID SUCKED!”

 

Shatner: “I…pride myself in doing a better job than…Cher…a seemingly human life form yet able to withstand…nuclear war due to multiple layers of…various facial feature distorting chemical…”

 

G0R0: “G0R0 SAY WE IS BEINGZ GOINGZ DOWN TO THE RING NOW!!!!!”

 

Munich: “Funyon you mean? Funyon sucks! I hate you all!”

 

Funyon: “Beam them down Scotty.”

 

Fugue, Spike Jenkins, and Matt Myers all appear inside the ring, via uber-trasporting beam technology, and the bell dings!

 

*** DING DING DING ***

 

Shatner: “Mission Log…the…specimens have initiated in the…brawling process…at this…point.”

 

G0R0: “…I IS BEINGZ G0R0!”

 

Shatner: “…Uh-huh.”

 

G0R0: “I IS BEINGZ AMAZING TECH…”

 

Munich: “Shut up! I hate you!”

 

Shatner: “So far this match is shaping up to be…quite a funny one…but…not TNT funny…more…Ash funny…”

 

The three competitors meticulously triangle around eachother, each daring one another to make the first move. Suddenly…uh…a series of cameos begins, and as we all know, cameos are just really masks used to shield a really sucky match from the truth, by blinding readers into thinking the match is good, with several cheap pops, for instance, Tod deKindes runs down the entrance ramp, and jobs to a backslide! See readers? That was incredibly stupid, but you MARKED anyway, didn’t you!? ADMIT IT FOOLS! Ahem, so, anyhoo…Spike is the first to put up a barrage of offensive maneuvers, lunging at Fugue with a copy of Speed 2! Fugue shrieks in unproportional fear, and immediately darts away, his face a blue shade, his eyes bulging with dread, a trail of urine leaking behind him from his terror-induced pant-wetting. Spike smiles grimly, but suddenly…

 

*** STATIC ***

 

Oakly777: ...IL drew a knife to his throat today

Friar Funk: that's not so cool

Oakly777: it's not

Oakly777: if I had gotten that Bruce Lee knife I was looking at I MIGHT do it...but seriously

Oakly777: lol

Oakly777: man, I wish I had bought that knife...

Oakly777: my teacher's would be like "DO YO HOMEWORK FOO!"

Oakly777: and I'd be all "EAT THIS! HIYA!"

Oakly777: and then the police cars would be all "SIREN NOISE!"

Oakly777: that would be the shit alright

Friar Funk: I hereby order you to copy that into the match.

Oakly777: ...I did, I didn't set it up or anything, I just randomly put *** STATIC *** and then copied it in

Oakly777: lol

Friar Funk: Good work.

 

*** STATIC ***

 

Uh…sorry, my bad. Anyhoo, Spike smiles grimly, and then suddenly screams out “FIGHT CLUB SUCKS!”…enraging the nearby TNT, who runs into the ring, and chops off Spike’s head! Thor says “HAHA! I ONE THIS BITCHFEST!” but TNT hates Thor too due to his incredibly unrealistic moveset too, no-sells his Viking’s Rage or whatever, and shoots him in the face! Thor no-sells! If you consider blowing into a bajillion pieces no-selling that is. Then, TNT grabs Fugue…and shoves him into a wood chipper! Then…Jay Dawg flies down from the ceiling with a water pack strapped to his back, yells “I love Mario Sunshine soooooo much!” and squirts the-artist-formerly-known-as-Mafia in the eyes with water! Manson dies! Then Annie comes out of nowhere, shoves JD onto the lawn, where Thugg and OC yell “GET OFF MY LAWN!” and shoot him! Huzzah! And then the ref’s all “NO CONTEST!” And Annie goes down on Helena from DOA3!…while Z watches! And then…awe fuck, sorry for not actually writing a FUNNY no-show match readers, I’m not very witty tonight…or ever, so…

[Guest crusen86]

STEEL PIPE LADDER MATCH

Mike Van Siclen vs. Jacob Helmsley

 

No match from LDP as yet. This better not be another double no show.

[Guest crusen86]

…. A deathmatch of penultimate proportions. This week, only on UFC pay per view. The gummi worms versus the marshmallow chicks. A battle for the ages. Don’t miss it!

 

With that, SJL Crimson returns to the airwaves, picture showing the many cheering fans at the cow palace on their feet. Unsurprisingly, many of said fans are waving some sort of homemade ‘signs’, ostensibly proclaiming their proclivities for their favorite JL grappler. As the show head into the main event, a few signs make the air, such witty standouts as ‘Crack of Thunder = New World Champ!’, ‘Mak Francis held down this sign’, and ‘CIA to finish Franchise.’

 

As the fans continue to cheer, the cameras come once again to the classic three shot of the SJL’s resident terrible trio, looking psyched, as always. Axis is, of course, first to speak, addressing all the fans out in TV land.

 

”Welcome back to SJL Crimson, ladies and gentlemen, and more importantly, to tonight’s main event! We’ve already seen some great action, including a European title match where sWo member Fugue put the belt on the line, and a crazy ladder match between Mike Van Siclen and Jacob Helmsley.”

 

Edwin is next, and he gives the camera his best smile from over the SWF title belt residing on the announce table before him. “That’s right Axis, and it’s been an exciting night of action, all leading up to those. Triple threat action in the cage, between the long reiging and longer whining current SJL champ, Mak Francis, the Canadian dream himself, CIA, and that seven foot, near 350 pound Asgardian legend, Thor!”

 

King puts on his best happy face, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “At this point, Mak Francis is just keeping busy rebuffing all comers to his title, and tonight will be no different. Thor’s big, and CIA IS stupid, But Mak Francis is champ, and not without good reason.”

 

Edwin rebuts, only happy to deny King the satisfaction. “Ah, you are ALMOST entirely accurate King, but last time Mak Francis was in a cage match with two other men, he did not walk out champ, instead, CIA got the duke after that brutal matchup, and many believe he can do it again tonight. Others still say it’s time for Thor to step up, and use his dominating strength to take the belt away for a first title reign. Either way, Mak Francis will have a tough match ahead of him, without a doubt.”

 

“That’s right, Edwin. And because we know how jacked all the fans are for this matchup, we’re gonna get right to Funyon, and start off the action!”

 

Indeed, the cameras cut to Funyon in the ring, surrounded by four imposing steel walls, bright flashes of blue strobe lights crashing across his gaudy suit, but more importantly, the microphone in his hands. Raising the microphone to his lips, Funyon receives a small pop, waiting it out, until the fans fall into an expectant hush, allowing him to sweep right into his standard spiel.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE fall, and is our main event, for the SJL World Heavyweight Championship!”

 

The fans pop like corn kernels in a microwave, Causing Funyon to pause once more, for just a few moments. As the crowd response dies down, Funyon continues on, booming voice echoing through the arena. “Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and thirty seven pounds, and hailing from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, he is…”

 

Funyon ceases at this point, allowing the fans in the audience to chant, voices echoing out. “C!…..I!…..A!!!!!”

 

Accompanying this outpouring of emotion from the crowd, the lights in the arena seem to cut out, immediately reducing in luminescence to almost nothing, a red glow filling the entire arena. The SmarkTron flickers to life, Canadian flag flowing in the video recorded breeze. The fans continue to chant, singing along with those familiar opening words to the anthem, and, as they finish, the stage explodes with four towers of shimmering red pyro, accompanied by the emergence of that fan favorite Canadian kook himself.

 

CIA begins to make his way down to the ring, spinning in a circle as he moves, arms out to his sides. Reaching the cage, still bathed in the warmth of a loud crowd pop, and the bright arena lights as they rise back to full brightness. Shrugging off his jacket, CIA marches through one of the open cage doors, going to center ring and begin to shuffle his feet, tossing out imaginary punches as he dances around Funyon, before leaning in close and making use of the gaudily bedecked ring announcers microphone in something of a terrible Muhammad Ali impression. “You know, Mak Francis and Thor ain’t got nothing on me. Cause I climb the cage like a monkey, and I sting like a bee. I’m the greatest, and that belt will be mine. I’m Canadian, you fans are psyched, and when I get the pin, we’ll all be feeling fine!”

 

The fans pop a bit at this silly display, cheers only redoubling again as the opening chords of KISS’ ‘God of Thunder’ blare through the speakers, bright spotlight shining down at the top of the entrance ramp to see the emergence of Thor, surrounded by smoke and a blaze of blue and white pyro, cape flowing around the giant man’s shoulders. “Introducing next, weighing in at three hundred and forty five pounds, and hailing from the gleaming halls of Asgarg, he is the god of thunder, THOR!” Marching down towards the ring, Thor happily slaps the hands of fans as he approaches the imposing steel cage, finally mounting the ring steps and unfastening his cape, wrapping it around his hammer and handing both to a waiting ringside attendant who stumbles under the weight of Mjolnir.

 

Thor’s music dies down, leaving him standing in mid ring gazing over towards CIA. Both men seem poised to start the match, but Funyon is still in the steel cage, and as he raises the microphone once more, retrieving a few notecards from his pocket, Thor and CIA shake their heads and turn towards the entryway, awaiting the arrival of the champ.

 

Blue and white lights begin to shine on the entranceway, and ‘Down with the Sickness’ begins, that familiar question blaring from the arena speakers.

 

‘Are you ready?’

 

The fans boo, but it seems to not deter the recorded voice, as it continues unabated.

 

‘ARE YOU READY??’

 

At this, Mak Francis emerges onstage, title belt strapped around his waist, and is met by a hail of boos as he poses directly below a blue and white photonegative of him, hitting a release german suplex on Renegade into the steel cage.

 

“Introducing next, hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he is the leader of the sWo…”

 

Booooo!!!

 

“.. the SJL World Heavyweight Champion…”

 

BOOOOOO!!!!!

 

“… and the one true Franchise, Mak Francis!”

 

The fans boo even louder as Mak struts down towards the ring, but Funyon doesn’t seem to be finished, as he looks down at the cards in his hand, sighing.

 

“He is the man you all wish you could be, he is the greatest technical wrestler to ever be held down in the SJL, he is the one true Franchise, and…”

 

Make bathes in the comforting warmth of the fans hatred for a moment, but is cut off as Funyon’s voice returns, causing him to turn and glare at the man in the ring.

 

“…and he blows goats. I have proof.”

 

Funyon seems confused, and Francis is enraged, until both men look up and spot Thor and CIA, looking quite smug, each one holding a black marker in their hands, with which they have apparently subtly modified Francis’ flashcards. The fans erupt with laughter, and Funyon quickly makes his way out of the ring through the opposite door from Mak Francis as the current champ enters. Both doors are closed from the outside, bell ringing to signify the beginning of the match.

 

*DINGDINGDING*

 

In the ring, an enraged Mak Francis wastes no time, immediately lunging forward to meet CIA in center ring, locking up with the Canadian grappler. Both men jockey for position, the fans rallying behind CIA as both men dive right into each other, intent on re-igniting their shared furies. Shoving against one another, it seems the lockup is finally giving way, when suddenly both men are blindsided, massive forearms knocking them away from one another and against the ropes. Both men look over towards the thunder god, and Thor raises one hand in the air, a loud ‘Hooooo!!’ chant erupting from the crowd. Mak and CIA glare at Thor, and then turn towards one another for a few moments before nodding.

 

Turning towards Thor as he stands in the middle of the ring, both men suddenly rush forward, extending their arms out for a big clothesline. Thor plants his feet and throws his upper body forward, slamming his own extended arms into the faces of both his opponents, spinning both of them end over end in the air and down to the mat. The impact having barely moved the giant in Mid-ring, Thor still rubs his lower chest a bit where both mens arms crashed into him, before leaning down to take both men by the hair and begin to pull them to their feet.

 

“Woah. The Franchise and the Dream couldn’t wait to get their hands on each other, but Thor cut those places off, sending both men back with his MASSIVE strength. It’s gonna take a lot to keep the big man down, although the cage may be the x-factor that allows just that.”

 

Edwin nods, agreeing with his Australian amigo. “Right you are Axis, as that cage is truly dangerous, and there’s no escapes this time, one man has to tap out or stay down. Francis and CIA showed some tremendous inadvertent teamwork last time they were together in the cage, along with Renegade, but even the beginnings of an unlikely alliance don’t seem to be enough to take down Thor just yet.”

 

King rolls his eyes and sighs a bit. “Thor? You mean tubby, God of thunderthighs? He may look strong now, but just wait. He’s carrying too much weight, and CIA and Mak can both move around that ring a lot more than he can. It won’t be long before Thor’s power deflates like an open balloon, and then all Francis has to do is drop the Canadian on his head, like he’s done before, and win this matchup decisively. Mark my words. Mak Francis WILL retain his title.”

 

Hefting Mak and CIA up onto their feet, Thor shoves the Franchise away, propelling him towards the ropes. Taking hold of CIA’s arm, the dream soon follows, being whipped hard toward the returning champion. Both men have little time to react, but luckily, both are still fresh in the match, and more than aware of the other in the ring. Francis ducks low as he moves, and CIA leapfrogs over him, planting his hands on the back of the Franchise and shoving him down and back, allowing Francis to dive low, clipping Thor’s ankle with a chopblock, dropping the big man to one knee. Francis rolls to the side, and Thor looks up towards the ropes, eyes opening wide as he sees CIA rocketing off the ropes.

 

Leaping up into the air, CIA thrusts his legs out hard, a loud smack sounding out as his feet collide with the forehead of Thor, toppling the thunder god to the mat after a trademark heavy dropkick. Seemingly quite happy with himself, CIA kips up to his feet and turns away from the downed Thor, knowing by now to always fear the third man in a triple threat. CIA seems to be lucky as Francis is still just coming up to his knees, and the Canadian makes his way over towards Mak, bringing back his arm, palm flat, obviously planning to hit the rising Franchise with a Shotei. Mak looks up, looking a bit dazed, but as CIA comes close, the champ smiles, and moves his body towards the Canadian, arm rocketing upwards to collide rather unhappily with CIA’s crotch, much to the crowd’s disdain.

 

“Ooooh. CIA and Mak Francis got on the same page for a moment at least, out of necessity, working together well to cut Thor’s legs out from underneath him, Francis hitting a chopblock, and CIA following up with that powerful dropkick. But the friendship didn’t last at all, as Francis makes good use of the no-DQ nature of this match, catching his Canadian foe with a lowblow.”

 

“That’s right Axis,” King smugly replies. “he’s the champ cause he knows just how to take a win, and part of his sound strategy is hitting where it hurts. In a no-DQ matchup, he just HAPPENS to be allowed to do so legally.”

 

“Well, you’re right there, King, and normally I’d protest Francis’ actions, but that cage hasn’t yet played a part in this matchup, and I have a feeling that a good ol’ Galatea special isn’t going to be the last time we all say ‘Ooooh’ in sympathy and/or pity this evening.”

 

Clutching himself rather delicately in pain, CIA stumbles away from Francis, who seems now quite capable of rising up to his feet quite swiftly. The masked grappler stumbles away, but Francis is quick to follow, catching CIA with a hard right hand. The Canadian stumbles, and Francis hits him again, and again. Drawing back, Mak swings, but this time CIA rises up and catches the incoming shot, drawing his own fist back to retaliate. Francis thrusts his other arm forward, driving his thumb into the unprotected eye of CIA, and stopping the Canadian cold. Grabbing CIA’s hair, Francis tugs the Canadian into a front facelock, and in one swift motion, hefts him overhead and back to the mat, crashing down in a snap suplex.

 

Rolling over, Mak ignores the booing of the crowd, Looking down at his Canadian foe. Raising one hand, Mak points down, yelling at CIA and motioning around his waist as if to say ‘I’m going to keep my belt.’ Laughing a bit, Mak backs away a half step, oly to have his back bump into something. Something big. Getting a bad feeling, Mak slowly turns around, only to have a hand clasp around his throat, Thor fully recovered and not in a good mood. Mak struggles, But the irate Thunder God merely hefts him up in one hand and spins around, slamming Francis’ back into the steel cage and holding him in place as his feet kick and struggle to find purchase on the top rope.

 

“And the big man is up! Mak Francis got a few good shots in on CIA, and after that thumb to the eye, just whipped him overhead and back down to the mat with a snap suplex. But there was one thing he wasn’t counting on, and when that thing is an angry seven foot, three hundred fifty pounder, you’d better not forget it.”

 

“And Mak Francis literally having the life choked out of him against that unforgiving steel If he doesn’t get his feet on that rope, or get Thor to release his grip somehow, he’s going to be in some serious trouble, leaving this match, and the title, up for grabs.”

 

“Bah. So the big thug can lift him up with one hand. Mere MOMENTS ago Axis said hwo important it was not to forget the third man in a matchup like this. If Mak Francis doesn’t escape, CIA will have to battle Thor, giving him time to recover. And if he does, it’s a moot point.”

 

Indeed, CIA manages to rise to his feet in the ring as Francis continues to kick and writhe, and he looks up, beginning to head over towards Francis and Thor. However, a moment later, he stops, and makes a move that no doubt causes Suicide King no end of aggravation. Turning away, CIA marches away from Thor and Mak to the ropes on their nearest side. Climbing upwards, CIA begins to scale the cage, not making any attempt to save Mak from the assault. Francis has no time to se this however, as his motions begin to slow, but at last, he manages to get his foot on the ropes, and lift himself up almost too far for even Thor’s reach, relieving the pressure on his neck somewhat.

 

Looking down at Thor, Francis begins to lash out with kicks, each one smacking hard into the face of the seven footer. He hit shim once, twice, three times, and Thor’s grip loosens, the big man looking ready to fall. Francis reaches his foot back planning to kick Thor one more time, but the huge grappler rears back, spinning around and dragging Francis with him, twisting and slamming the Franchise to the mat with a powerful chokeslam. Breathing a bit more heavily now, Thor rises up, and steps past Francis, looking for CIA. Not spotting the Canadian, Thor looks about, finally gazing out past the mesh of the cage, and seeing the fans in the front row, cheering and pointing. Pointing…. Up?

 

Thor turns towards the side of the cage, and looks up, finding the Canadian with his eyes in mid-flight. Cameras flash blindingly as CIA soars from the top off the cage, body sailing towards the seven footer. Thor has neither the time nor the speed to move out of the way, and, bravely, he extends his arms to try to catch CIA. Unfortunately, the momentum is too much, as Thor slams down to the mat under the flying cross-body block. A referee who has remained on one of the aprons makes his way into the ring, sliding into place to count the fall.

 

ONE!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

TWO!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

And Mak Francis breaks the count!

 

“Woah, boy, was that ever close. Thor planted Mak Francis with the chokeslam, and CIA cam flying off the top, taking the big man down for the first pinfall attempt of this matchup, but Francis was able to roll over and break up the count, saving his title, for now, at least.”

 

“These three are really gonna kick it into high gear now, I can tell, and I predict just one thing. Violence, brutality, and some real crazy action.”

 

“You know, Edwin, if you were smart, you’d predict Francis to win this match and keep his title. Not only would history be supporting you, but you would also be right. Mak Francis took that powerful chokeslam, and he still had the presence of mind to get over and break up the count. Not only that, but now he has that goofy Canadian right where he wants him. You’d also know that’s three things.”

 

Francis rears back as he gets the masked grappler on his feet, and throws his hand forward, flat palm smacking into the face of CIA and sending him stumbling back, head twisting to one side. A few fans let out a loud ‘Whoo!’, but it doesn’t matter to Francis as he rears back again, smacking his hand hard into the face of CIA once more, stumbling the Canadian back further. Reaching out, Mak grabs hold of CIA’s throat, and backs him against the ropes, squeezing his fingers tight around the masked grappler’s throat. CIA reaches up to take hold of Francis’s wrist, but Mak leans in, forcing the masked grappler back over the ropes, the unprotected back of his head touching the mesh of the cage.

 

Behind Mak as he continues to attack the throat of CIA, Thor rises from the mat, towering over both men at his full height. Slowly, the massive wrestler steps forward, but it seem this time Francis has remembered the massive Thor, spinning in place and whipping CIA directly at the big man. Thor leans forward and catches CIA, using the momentum to lift him into the air overhead. Keeping his eyes locked with Francis’, Thor presses CIA up into the air, once, twice, then a third time, tossing him up into the air and taking a step forward, Canadian crashing to the mat behind him as he glares down at Mak.

 

“Well, Mak thought he was ready, but it looks like Thor’s focused on one thing and one thing only, taking that belt and making himself a World Champion for the first time.”

 

“Right you are Edwin, as that press slam to CIA was as much a message to Mak Francis as it was an effective tactic. And after being choked against the ropes, CIA has to be in pain. But we have to remember, Mak IS world champ, and CIA has tasted the gold once already in his career here in the SJL. Neither one of them is going to give up so easy, and both have much more experience with the steel cage than Thor.”

 

“Mak Francis just used Thor to get CIA out of the way. And now he’s going to use his god given talent to take out Thor. It’s so simple it HAS to be genius.”

 

Mak steps forward, towards Thor, but he stops, only a step away from the ropes. Thor waits a moment, while CIA rolls over and begins to come to his feet. After a few seconds more, Thor begins to step forward, reaching out to grab hold of the much smaller man before him. Francis quickly throws his body back, foot flying upwards as he manages to plant his foot under the chin of Thor, high angle superkick causing Thor to stumble backwards. CIA is just coming to his feet, and he sees the massive frame of the Thunder God bearing back at him. Moving as quickly as he can, CIA grabs Thor in a Full nelson, actually having to take a step back, and allow Thor’s body to ben d backwards to get him properly in the hold.

 

There is a moment of anticipation, of wonder, as CIA lurches downwards slightly, planting his feet solidly on the mat below. Mak Francis rushes forward, moving to the side of both men, and his arm connects with the bent back Thor, just under the chin. CIA uses the momentum, throwing his body up and back, and manages to heft the big man into the air, up and over his body as he releases the hold, sending Thor through the air, crashing to the mat with a sound closest approximating a boom. Mak Francis is still on his feet, and he looks over at the downed Thunder God, then to CIA, as the Canadian rolls back and forth, hands clutching his lower back in pain.

 

“The last time Mak and CIA were in a match like this, a combo much like that one sent Renegade sailing into the cage, but Renegade was quite a bit lighter than Thor, and CIA isn’t quite the master of suplexes that Mak Francis is. Quite clearly, his back is in serious pain.”

 

“That’s what he gets. I don’t know what kind of a nut tries to heft a man that size overhead, but it was obviously too much for CIA.”

 

“I don’t know, King, some people would call it courageous, or a real testament to his strength.”

 

“I call it stupid, Edwin. And I doubt there’s noone out there who agrees with me.”

 

Mak Francis stands alone in the ring for a moment, and the fans boo as he looks out over the audience. Taking a long, slow breath, the Franchise looks down at both of his opponents, finally settling on Thor as the massive man begins to sit up. Stepping over towards the groggy Thunder God, Mak lashes out, boot catching Thor in the nose, and sending him back down to the canvas. Taking only a single moment to roll CIA out of the way, Francis grabs the big man’s ankles, and lifts his massive tree trunk like legs into the air, stepping through with one foot as sweat drips down his face. Crossing one of Thor’s leg’s over the other, Francis readies to roll back and lock in the Figure four, ignoring the boos from the crowd.

 

Thor fights against the hold, moving from side to side, But Francis falls back to the mat, quickly throwing his leg over Thor’s, locking his knee in place over the ankle, and tearing back at the hold, causing the big man to cry out. The crowd continues to boo, but Francis ignores it, continuing to wrench at the ankle and knee of Thor. Reaching up, Thor takes hold of the ropes near his head, holding his shoulders up off the mat, but in a no DQ match, it does the seven footer no good, Francis holding tight, really tearing at the legs of the much larger man.

 

Holding onto the leg of Thor, the Franchise cries out, urging his massive foe to quit, to give in, but Thor holds tight on the ropes, crying out not in submission, merely in pain. CIA rolls over nearby, coming up to his feet, and he spots the two men, locked together by the figure four. Making his way over, he stands over the Franchise, expecting Mak to release his grip, but Francis will not let go, and CIA begins assaulting the champ. Focusing on Francis’ face, CIA falls forward, dropping his knee across the bridge of Francis’ nose. Rising up, he looks down, and now Francis is shaking his head no, not willing to release Thor. CIA drops again, and again, driving Francis’ head back against the canvas, but still having no luck in getting Mak to break his grip, though his nose is bent in an odd direction, blood trickling down along his chin and cheeks.

 

“My god, this is amazing. Francis just will not let go till Thor gives in. This is mindless, brutal dedication, cause it looks like CIA has already broken his nose, and I doubt the Canadian is planning to stop!”

 

“Right you are, Axis, but that just proves that these three men are not willing to give in, they will take any pain, any punishment, if it means being the champion.”

 

“Mak Francis has more guts than anybody, that’s all this is. He can feel that big monster ready to crack under the pressure, and he wouldn’t give up now for anything. Like I said, Mak Francis, still going to be your champ when all is said and done.”

 

In the ring, Thor cries aloud, and CIA looks angry, increasing the speed of his assault, dropping rapid knees across the face of Francis, punctuating each one with a kick to the side of the head, twisting Francis’ neck around. The franchise tries his hardest to hold on, but after a short time, he is forced to release the hold, rolling away from Thor, blood dripping from the lower half of his face down to stain the mat. CIA follows, reaching down to tug Francis to his feet, and backing him up against the ropes. Rearing back, CIA sends his hand rocketing forward, a wet smack sounding out as he sends a brutal shotei across the cheek and chin of Francis. The fans let out a loud whoo, and CIA draws back to swing again, smacking the other side of Mak’s face now. The fans cry out again, and CIA ‘whoo-s’ right along with them, spinning in place to smash into Mak’s face with a fierce roaring elbow, bending the Franchise back over the ropes.

 

Hanging semi-limp at the ropes, Mak seems ripe for the pickings, but behind CIA the monstrous Thor rises, limping only slightly, rushing forward. Mak Francis sees this, and manages to spin to the side, but CIA is caught from behind, Thor driving a shoulder into the back of his skull and sending him facefirst over the ropes, right into the mesh of the cage with a dull clink. Reaching forward with one massive hand, Thor spins the Canadian around, driving his other hand into the front of CIA’s face, almost palming his head, and pressing the back of his skull against the mesh now, using his massive strength to slowly pull the masked grappler higher, dragging his neck and the back of his head against the mesh, entire cage panel bending out slightly. Mak Francis rolls through the ropes onto the apron, crawling over towards the open door, and ignoring both men.

 

“Francis’ face busted up, Thor crushing CIA against the cage, and the big man’s leg no doubt in serious pain after that figure four. We’ve got walking wounded now, and you have to wonder just how this match is going to end.”

 

“Absolutely, Axis. Thor has CIA in the palm of his hand, quite literally, and the only question at this moment is ‘where is Mak going, and why?”

 

“No doubt he has some brilliant plan, and you two idiots ought to shut up and watch.”

 

Mak continues to crawl on the apron as Thor drags CIA back and forth against the Mesh, Canadian holding onto his wrists and trying in vain to break the huge man’s grip. Francis pushes open the door, and grabs a nearby ring attendant, yelling at the young man. The attendant seems afraid, and he shakes his head ‘no’, quickly warranting a slap from the Franchise. Mak yells again, blood covering the lower half of his face, and this time, when he releases the young man, he rushes off to the announce area, forcing two people out of their chairs. Folding up both steel seating devices, the young man returns to the door, handing both to Mak. The crowd murmurs, wondering what Mak could be up to, but the Franchise swings the door shut, turning back in towards the ring.

 

Steppign through the ropes, Francis releases one chair onto the apron, and gives it a shove with his foot, so it slides over to just below CIA’s dangling feet. Thor looks down and sees the chair, releasing his grip on the Canadian just as Francis steps through the ropes, and stumbles to mid-ring, raising the chair high overhead. Thor spins around, and Mak halts in mid swing, looking up into the angry eyes of the Thunder god. Thor steps towards Francis, and Mak steps away. Thor steps forward again, and Mak backs away again. Finally, Thor raises both his arms, preparing to rush forward and smash Francis with a forearm…..

 

 

And is struck from behind as CIA has recovered the chair near his feet and brought it down on the back of the big man’s skull. Thor stumbles forward, but does not fall, and as CIA steps in through the ropes, chair still in hand, Mak brings his risen chair down, crushing it into the face of Thor, and spinning the big man around, though he still does not fall. CIA and Mak both look amazed, and CIA swings hard once more, crushing his chair across Thor’s face as well, so hard that it bends in the middle. Thor falls to one knee, forehead busted open, and both men swing back with their chairs. Thor tries to raise his arms, but it is too late, as both chairs come swinging in as hard as their holders can send them, sandwiching the head of the big man and dropping him right to the mat, though the chairs fall free from Mak and CIA’s numb fingers.

 

“Holy shit! Three hard chair shots wouldn’t take the big man down, and the mortal enemies crush his skull with a con-chair-to! He may be a god, but I wouldn’t want to know what his head is going to feel like in the morning. Much as I respect the big man’s efforts, I’d say we’re down to two, folks.”

 

“These two are both tired, but it’s clear to a genius like myself that Mak has it left in him, as he didn’t just have his head palmed like a golfball by a seven foot monster. He knows it’s time to hit the Franchise tag, punch CIA’s ticket, and ride that train home.”

 

“Maybe, King, Maybe. But CIA isn’t known for giving up in big match situations. We may see something amazing yet.”

 

Both men still standing in the ring are drenched in sweat, and both their shirts stained with dripping blood, but as they rush forward to meet each other over the fallen body of Thor, they seem as fierce as ever. Locking up, both grapplers fight for position, Mak Francis’ amateur experience allowing him to gain the upper hand. Leaning down, Francis uses his position to grab hold of CIA and heft him up onto his shoulders into a fireman’s carry, getting ready for the Franchise tag. A loud boo erupts from the fans, And Mak turns slightly, preparing to spike the Canadian on his head and finish the match. Unfortunately for Mak, as he moves to drop the Canadian to the Canvas, CIA kicks out with his feet, swinging his body down off the champ’s shoulders. Francis spins about, and takes a swing at his masked foe, but CIA ducks low, now heaving the Franchise up on his shoulders in an instant.

 

The crowd almost audibly gasps as Francis kicks and writhes in an attempt to escape, with no luck, and CIA drops his body, pulling Francis into a new position, and driving his head into the mat, met with a massive cheer. Francis rolls to the side, almost unmoving, and the crowd cheers madly, as CIA gasps and breathes in deeply. Looking over at Francis, CIA sees the sWo leader twitch, and he quickly turns about, diving over Thor’s fallen body. The referee slides into place, and as his hand comes down, the fans count along.

 

ONE!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

TWO!

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

THREE!

 

And Mak Francis has thrown himself off the ground, arms smashing down onto CIA’s back. A hush falls over the arena, not quite knowing what has just happened, but the ref rises up, pointing to the outside, and the arena erupts as the bell rings, signaling the end of the match.

 

*DINGDINGDING*

 

“Amazing! Mak Francis’s own move, the Franchise tag, reversed on him, and CIA doesn’t cover him, which may be for the best, since Francis STILL managed to try and break up that tag, just one second too late. Nevertheless, CIA has won it! He is once again SJL world champion!”

 

“Yes! Axis, you are so right. Francis and CIA worked together, and once again, Francis’ assistance may have unwittingly resulted in a CIA world title victory. I bet Francis whines a LOT about this one.”

 

“Tell me this isn’t happening.”

 

“Aww, Kingy, everyone’s celebrating. Aren’t you happy for our new two time champion?”

 

”Shut up, Edwin.”

 

“Folks, it took a while to heat up, but what a finish to this amazing matchup. CIA is once again the Smarks Junior League world heavyweight champ, and we’re unfortunately just about out of time. Tune in next week, cause trust me, you won’t wanna miss the aftermath of this one!”

 

With that, the cameras focus on the three men in the ring, canvas stained red with blood in many areas, as the ref drapes the world title belt over CIA’s body. The shot zoome in close on the Canadian’s face, and he can be seen, as the view fades to black.

 

Smiling.

[Guest crusen86]

Paraphased, Thor said Mak was going down.

 

SINGLES MATCH

Manson vs. Leon Sharpe

Manson is back on his winning way, managing to make Leon tap in a close contest.

 

SINGLES MATCH

Kamikaze vs. Blank

Blank, after seemingly mixing up King's and Axis' characters.

 

Mak Francis scares Ben Hardy. Again.

 

EUROPEAN TITLE MATCH

Fugue © vs. Spike Jenkins vs. Matt Myers

Triple no show. With, erm, stuff.

 

STEEL PIPE LADDER MATCH

Mike Van Siclen vs. Jacob Helmsley

No match yet.

 

WORLD TITLE CAGE MATCH

Mak Francis © vs. C.I.A. vs. Thor

CIA! CIA! CIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NEW CHAMPION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

No match on MVS/Helmsley, Crusen... all I got was a promo. I figured it had been sent to you, but I guess that's what happens when you assume too much. Anyway, here it is.

 

---------------------------------------

 

Crimson returns as we immediately zoom in on the threesome of Axis, the Suicide King, and Edwin MacPhisto, all smiling like they just received the Nimbus 2000 toy broom that ***VIBRATES***! *cough* Anyway, we throw the show to Axis now.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've had a hell of a show so far, and it will only get better in the steel pipe ladder match, coming up now!"

 

"Yes," says the Suicide King, "and that match will be made better when Jaco-"

 

I

Shut

'Em

Down...

 

"Shut 'Em Down" by LL Cool J kicks up and begins to blare throughout the arena, the crowd standing up and cheering for what should be Mike Van Siclen...

 

but is instead Jacob Helmsley, Fred Hallbrook right behind! The crowd boos, but Helmsley has a mic and begins to speak.

 

"Shut the fuck up!"

 

The crowd erupts in boos, but Helmsley refuses to care.

 

"Roll my footage."

 

---

 

The SmarksTron flickers to life, and we see a picture of a parking lot (gee, what else is new?) In the parking lot we can see the SCW Champion, Mike Van Siclen, carrying the belt over his shoulder, when suddenly...

 

SMASH! Out of nowhere, Jacob Helmsley catches him full-on in the head with a steel pipe shot. He begins to stomp on Mike.. then smiles, realizing that his work is done. He leaves, and all that we are left with is the Amazin' SCW Champion... bloody.

 

---

 

"Therefore," Jacob says over the crescendo of boos, "Since Mike Van Siclen is not going to show up for this match, I win by forfeit!"

 

Edwin stands up at the announce table. "No you don't!"

 

Jacob stares at him coldly. "Why not, MacPhisto?"

 

"Uh... because I'm throwing the match out!"

 

Jacob looks at Edwin angrily... but does nothing. He tosses the mic to the side and calmly walks back up the ramp, leaving a frazzled Edwin behind the desk. "One of these people is gonna kill me one of these days," Edwin mutters to himself.

 

"Jacob Helmsley playing mind games, and we'll be back with more Crimson in just a little bit!"

 

Fade to commercial...