CRIMSON!!! THURSDAY THE 17TH!!!

[Guest Suicide King]

SJL Crimson Card, Thursday October 17th

Arena: The Mellon Arena, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

 

5 MINUTE MATCH

Logan vs. Ejiro Fasaki

- Logan is yet to pick up his first win in the SJL. He will be looking to do so against Ejiro. Good luck.

 

 

SINGLES MATCH

Manson vs. Wildchild

- Eh... I've probably missed something about Manson retiring, but here's hoping. Round one, fight.

 

 

TABLES MATCH

Christian Fury vs. Johnny Dangerous

- Heheheheh. This match is funny. Anyway, the newly returned Christian Fury's first opponent will be against the stealthy Johnny Dangerous. In a tables match, no less.

 

 

SINGLES MATCH

Spike Jenkins vs. Jack The Ripper

- Both men are coming off title match losses. Jack the European, Spike the World. What better thing to do then make them smash up each other.

 

 

WORLD TITLE #1 CONTENDERSHIP MATCH

Kamikaze v. Mike Van Siclen

- Double no shows are a bitch. However, due to having a very unflexible roster these days, the sods involved are lucky enough to get a rematch - same rules apply.

- Match Description: Kamikaze can get the World #1 Contendership simply by beating MVS. However, if Mike makes Kami tap, he becomes #1 Contender. Also, if Mike wins by any means besides submission, the match is ruled as a normal match and there is no number one contender.

 

 

MAIN EVENT

TRIPLE THREAT MATCH

Judge Mental vs. Tim Dillon vs. Matt Myers

- Arguably two of the hottest guys in the fed. Erm, as in, streak wise. Um. Anyway, it will be on here. Will Judge be able to cement himself as the definitive JLer? Or can newly crowned European champion, Tim Dillon, or Matt Myers, be able to challenge the crown?

[Guest Suicide King]

The camera pans about the Melon Arena as copious amounts of pyrotechnics blast into the sky, covering the arena in the glow of shiny red particles. As the theme from SJL Crimson roars over the sound system, a number of fans lift their signs in the vain hope that it will make them cool and women will be lined up around the block to date them, even if they are wrestling fans. Signs such as “Hollywood Spike Dudley”, “My Cat Loves Axis”, and “Is Everyone Going to Show Up Tonight?” are displayed on camera for a moment. We are then greeted to the evening’s proceedings by The Wild Australian, Axis, and the man, who is so handsome; he gets all of the girls (and some of the guys) The Suicide King.

 

“Well fans it’s your favorite time of the week, when you get to see me, The Suicide King. I am here with the man that puts the short on the short bus. The ... huh ... wow ... these introductions are a lot harder than I thought. Anyway, here he is. The proof against the ‘there’s always a bigger idiot’ theory, Axis.”

 

“Gee, thanks King, I knew I was in good hands when you decided to do the introductions tonight.”

 

“I told you I wouldn’t let me down.”

 

“Nevertheless, tonight will be one heck of a barn burner, as we have the metaphorical crap load of matches to get through right here on SJL Crimson. Action you won’t see anywhere else in the world of professional wrestling. So without further ado, lets hit the ring for our opening bout. So lets send our attention to the middle of the ring, where Funyon is standing by. Funyon?”

 

Funyon lifts the microphone to his lips and fills the arena with his silky voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the opening match of SJL Crimson. It is scheduled for one fall with a five minute time limit and will be contested under hardcore rules.” The fans light up with glee at the premise of seeing some wild and wooly action this evening as Funyon continues his spiel, “Introducing first, he hails from Sarasota, Florida and weighs in at 188 pounds. He is the master of the cobra crossface... EEEEJIRO FASAKIIIIIIII!”

 

Ejiro Fasaki opens the curtains and steps through as Biohazard’s “Sellout” begins to play. Greeted with a bit of a cheer but nothing too awe inspiring, Ejiro still gives some appreciative fans a couple of high five before climbing into the ring. Have I mentioned that he’s dressed in a white T-shirt and some jeans? He is. He’s also reaching for the microphone that Funyon gladly hands over.

 

“How’s everyone doing tonight in Pittsburgh, PA?” Ejiro asks as the fans break out in a mild cheer at the name of their town. “Well, it’s the opening match again, and ... well, here I am! Boy, I bet it must be fun to watch this show every week and know that every time you turn it on, that Ejiro Fasaki will be there right at the top of the show. Entertaining all of his many, many fans. And you know something folks? I’m fine with that. I’m fine with the fact that no one wants to see me climb in the rankings of the SJL. I’m fine with the idea that someone in that front office doesn’t want me anywhere near the top rung of the wrestling ladder.”

 

“Hey Ejiro, bitter much? Maybe if you actually won once in a while, you’d actually have a reason to bitch you stinking loser,” heckles King.

 

“Well, Fasaki does seem to be stuck in a bit of a curtain jerking rut in SJL, King. But that’s certainly not because of some vast conspiracy or anything.”

 

Ejiro continues with his little monologue, “I’m fine with all of the games I have to play, all the hurdles that I have to jump over to get anywhere. But what I am not fine with... what I am not going to sit idly by and let slide past. Is this companies insistence that I take part in their sick idea of some sort of... fight club thing. Where I am placed in barbaric positions like I am in tonight. Taking on Logan... in a hardcore match... for five minutes? Is that all I’m worth to this company? Is this all I’m good for, a quick little bit of bloodletting for the sicker members of our viewing audience?”

 

The sicker members of the viewing audience let up a cheer for the recognition as Ejiro glares at them in disgust. As a matter of fact, the moment of cheering actually causes Ejiro to shake his head as though he’s been struck with a physical blow. He brings the microphone up to his mouth yet again.

 

“Well that’s a load of bull. I’m better than that, and I can prove it. But I can’t prove anything in five minutes of getting hit in the head with a chair. I can’t prove anything by getting thrown throw tables. And I’m really not going to prove anything by bleeding all over the arena. And quite frankly, I’m just not going to bother with it.”

 

The fans start to drop a series of boos at all this sissy talk from a big, strapping wrestler guy. Obviously not really caring about the fans at the moment, Fasaki continues to act like a big wussy boy.

 

“That’s right, I’m not going to go along with this Roman circus. I’m throwing in the towel. I’m quitting right now before the match even starts. In short, I’m forfeiting. So, Logan, why don’t you just come on out here, get your hand raised, so we can all go home and have some Nestle Quick? Huh?”

 

The lights in the arena flash red as The Beatles’ “Helter Skelter” begins to smoke in from the sound system. Stepping through the curtains, Logan walks strait ahead with a metal chair in hand and a glazed look in his eyes. The fans actually let up a little cheer for the violent engine, as he’s not likely to engage in lively debate with the blabbermouth in the ring.

 

“Well fans, this was supposed to be a five-minute hardcore match, but it doesn’t look like Fasaki wants any part of it King.”

 

“Well, yeah, he’s scared and rightly so. Would you want to face Logan in a match where there are no rules and he’s got to do all of the work he can in a mere five minutes?”

 

“No thanks. I try to stay as far away from Logan as I can. Getting close just isn’t a safe option for me, you, or his mother.”

 

Using his spare microphone (for just such an emergency) Funyon announces, “and his opponent, weighing in at 258 pounds and hailing from beautiful, scenic Parts Unknown. This is LOOOOOOOOGAN!”

 

Ejiro attempts a rebuttal; “He’s not my opponent! Haven’t you been listening to a word I have said? This isn’t going to happen. Not tonight! Not ever! I am not going to be a part of this!”

 

Logan steps through the ropes and begins to march strait towards Ejiro with the chair cocked back like a catapult. Fasaki takes a few steps backwards and raises the microphone to his mouth.

 

“Hold on killer, I don’t want to fight you... hey! Stop...”

 

CLANG!

 

The hard metal object goes smashing across Fasaki’s head as Logan takes a swing from deep right center field that sends Ejiro flying back, back, back, and gone! As the fans cheer the display of brutality, as they are wont to do, the shot sends Ejiro falling to the mat in a heap as referee Matthew Kivell signals for the bell. A look of pain and horror crosses Fasaki’s face as he simultaneously realizes that this match is going to happen and, at the same time, tries to crawl away from the aggressive Logan.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Well it looks like Fasaki is in this match whether he wants to be or not.”

 

“Would it be inappropriate for me to laugh like a super villain at this point?”

 

“I don’t really think so.”

 

“Lovely, MWAHAHAHAHA!”

 

Taking the chair back again, Logan sends it crashing down across a kneeling Fasaki’s back, bending the chair backwards and sending Ejiro scrambling to the ropes in a vain attempt to escape this torture. But Fasaki only makes his way to the ropes, as though they’ll be his saving grace. Logan casually drops the chair in the middle of the ring and heads towards the turnbuckles. Tearing away furiously, Logan exposes the metal hook that keeps the ropes together. Going over to collect Fasaki for some punishment, Logan is unprepared for Ejiro’s quick dive in between Logan’s legs. Quickly rolling forward while collecting the discarded chair, Ejiro turns quickly and swings with all of his might. A desperate swing by a desperate man catches Logan square in the face, sending the madman from Parts Unknown to the canvas.

 

“Good thinking by Ejiro. He used his quickness to get a hold of a weapon and now he’s using it,” reports Axis.

 

“Yeah, but look how much good it’s going to do him,” responds King.

 

But Logan is not down for long, and quickly gets back to his feet. Gone is his impassive glare, as it is replaced with a savage rage. Panicked at this terrible visage, Ejiro takes another wild swing at his opponent with the steel chair. But Logan is just quick enough to sidestep away from the swing and pivot around Fasaki. Charging forward with an elbow strike, Logan drives the chair into Fasaki’s face and sends the worker plummeting to the mat in a heap. Shaking his elbow out for a moment to relieve what most of us would call pain, Logan takes a moment to collect himself before taking Ejiro by the hair and dragging him up to his feet. Taking Ejiro back to a corner Logan grasps him in a headlock and drives a series of punches strait into Fasaki’s forehead again and again and again before locking up Fasaki tight in a headlock and rushing forward. Hopping into the air, Logan brings Fasaki’s head crashing into the mat with a bulldog headlock that sends Ejiro’s legs flopping to the canvas with a twitchy spasm. Getting to his feet, Logan quickly takes an approach step before dropping an elbow down across Fasaki’s back as Funyon announces...

 

“One minute gone... four minutes remain!”

 

Dropping another elbow causes Fasaki to arch his back in pain as Logan falls down across his back. Pulling Ejiro up by his shirt, Logan takes a moment to find his favorite place in the whole ring. Getting a mild running start, Logan sends Ejiro’s head bouncing against the exposed turnbuckle with as much force as Logan can muster. Pulling back on Fasaki’s head, Logan pounds it into the buckle again and again with a furious pace that is obviously causing a large gash to open up on Ejiro’s forehead.

 

“Ah, I love the smell of blood in the evening, Axis.”

 

“Really,” answers Axis, not really wanting to get into this discussion.

 

“Yeah, but not so much in the morning. I’m kind of queasy first thing, you know how it is.”

 

“Great. You should write an article about it for SJL Magazine.”

 

“There is no SJL Magazine.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

 

Finally releasing his opponent, Logan watches as Fasaki stumbles away from the corner and takes a header into the center of the ring. Fasaki lies on the canvas like he’s never going to move again under his own power. Thankfully, Logan is going to be quite helpful in that regard in just a little while. Logan takes a moment to collect the already broken and battered chair and set it up standing in the middle of the ring. Hauling Fasaki off the canvas and setting him up by gripping his arm and wrapping up his leg, Logan sends Fasaki flying backwards with a Russian legsweep that sends the back of Ejiro’s head smashing into the chair. Ejiro holds onto the back of his cranium, desperately trying to stay conscious and keep his brains from falling out as blood continues to pour out from his forehead, covering his white T-shirt in a red glaze. Tossing the chair flat against the canvas, Logan pulls Ejiro up and sends him into the ropes. Catching Fasaki on the rebound, Logan turns, eyes up the chair, and sends him down onto the steel chair with a thud. Logan stays on top and hooks a leg as Matthew Kivell counts...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

NO!

 

Ejiro slings a shoulder up just as Funyon announces that...

 

“Two minutes gone in this match, Three minutes remain.”

 

“Only two minutes have gone past and Fasaki is already bleeding like a stuck pig.”

 

“And for those of us who weren’t raised on the farm, that means he’s bleeding real bad.”

 

“Thanks for the clarification, King.”

 

Pressing Fasaki back into a corner again, Logan holds him up by the hair and slowly, methodically starts to drive in a series of headbutt’s into the bloody face of Ejiro. Getting a little blood on himself, Logan wipes it away like he was just wiping some sweat from his brow. Ejiro looks up at his opponent with a look that clearly demonstrates that he wants to go home and maybe stop bleeding. Unrelenting, Logan takes Fasaki by the arm and sends Fasaki flying across the ring and into the exposed buckle with an Irish whip. Hitting the metal flush with his back, Ejiro roars in pain and starts to stumble out of the corner when Logan runs right through him with a clothesline that sends Fasaki into a complete flip before falling to the mat. Logan dives onto Ejiro’s fallen form and begins to gouge away at his opponent’s cut, widening it even more. Logan releases his grip on Ejiro’s face, almost bored with that form of torture. Logan looks over his handiwork and seeing how limp Fasaki seems to be on the mat, casually steps out through the ropes to the floor, lifts the ring skirting and reaches underneath.

 

“It looks like Logan has got some wood.”

 

“Oh gee thanks for the visual Axis, you would be checking that out.”

 

“I mean he’s got a table.”

 

“Yeah... right.”

 

Taking the furniture from underneath the ring and placing it on the ring apron, Logan walks about the ring before climbing back in via the ring steps. Stepping in between the ropes again, Logan attempts to pull Fasaki to his feet...

 

“Three minutes gone! Two minutes remain!”

 

But Fasaki hits Logan coming in with a fist to the stomach, and another. Logan is momentarily stunned as Ejiro hits his opponent with an elbow to the head and another. Finally getting a glimmer of hope, Ejiro hits the ropes in order to get some momentum but runs right into the clutches of Logan. Pulling Fasaki up in a fireman’s carry, Logan steps back a few paces before falling backwards through the table with all of his weight landing on a bloody Ejiro Fasaki. The fans respond with a hearty chant of “Holy Shit! Holy Shit” as both men lay in the rubble of broken Formica.

 

“Both men are down! I think Logan caught himself a little bit with the table as well there King,” explains Axis.

 

“Well Logan better hurry up, he’s only got a little over a minute and half to put Fasaki away now.”

 

Pulling himself to his knees, Logan crawls on top as Kivell counts away on Fasaki in the splintered remains of the table. The fans count along as Kivell’s hand comes down for...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE...NO!

 

Ejiro just barely gets a shoulder out in time before Matthew Kivell can count to three! Logan looks around for a second in disbelief while running his fingers through his hair. Fasaki starts to climb up to his feet by using the ropes, but one big kidney punch is enough to send him back down to the canvas, clutching his back in pain and frustration. Logan quickly recovers a piece of the shattered table and breaks it across Fasaki’s already bloody forehead. Taking the edge of the table and using it like a cheese grater; Logan rips it across Ejiro’s face as the victim screams out in pain and terror. The stream of blood only intensifies as Funyon calls forth...

 

“FOUR MINUTES GONE! THERE IS ONE MINUTE REMAINING!”

 

Hearing this information, Logan decides to dispose of the table piece and put Ejiro away with one last devastating maneuver. Dragging Fasaki to his feet once by his hair, Logan steps behind Fasaki and bends over. Lifting Ejiro up on his shoulders, Logan steadies himself...

 

“This will be all King,” reports Axis, “this will be Logan’s Run.”

 

“Groovy, I was hoping this thing would finish quickly.”

 

“It only had a five minute time limit, King.”

 

“I’m a product of this short attention span generation.”

 

Logan reaches up and gets a grip on Ejiro’s wrists. But not for long! Tearing his arms free, Ejiro drives a series of quick right hands into Logan’s temple, stunning the violent engine. Thinking quickly, Ejiro manages to get himself turned and starts to fall down Logan’s back. Grabbing a hold of Logan’s thighs, Ejiro pulls Logan down with a sunset flip! Matthew Kivell dives into position!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

Immediately after Kivell’s arm hits the mat the third time, Logan brings his heel directly into Ejiro’s face to free himself from Ejiro’s grip. Unsure about what has transpired, Logan looks confused before Funyon erases all doubt as to what has happened.

 

“The winner of this match, in 4 minutes and 23 seconds.... EEEEEEEEJIRO FASAKI!”

 

“WHAT AN UPSET! With one move, Ejiro Fasaki has stolen this match away from Logan!”

 

“But he took a heck of a beating to do it. And he might be taking some more real soon.”

 

Taking Kivell by the shirt, Logan leans back and lets loose with a clothesline with bad intentions that sends the referee sprawling to the canvas. Knowing that he’s in deep trouble if he doesn’t do something quickly, Fasaki jumps up on Logan’s back and tries to put him out with a desperation sleeperhold. Unimpressed with Ejiro’s desperate gambit, Logan easily pulls Ejiro forward over his shoulder and then drives his head into the canvas with the Death Valley Driver! Fasaki sits up for just a moment before falling backwards onto the canvas unconscious.

 

“This doesn’t look good, King, Logan looks like he’s about to go on a killing spree.”

 

“What is this, Monday Night Raw... Uh, forget I said anything”

 

With Fasaki laid out in the ring, Logan steps out of the ring and reaches underneath again. Pulling forth yet another table, Logan sets this one up outside of the ring. Sliding back inside, Logan takes a hold of Fasaki and drags his limp form out to the apron.

 

“I don’t like the looks of this one bit, King. This match is already over.”

 

“Another thing is going to be over real soon... Fasaki’s career.”

 

Bending over, Logan again easily hoists Fasaki up on his shoulders. This time, facing no resistance, Logan grabs a tight grip on Fasaki’s arms before sending him forward with a...

 

“LOGAN’S RUN THROUGH THE TABLE! SWEET CHRIST ON A CRACKER! This has gone too far!”

 

Logan pulls himself up as the fans let loose with a generous “Holy Shit” chant. And as the madman from Parts Unknown kicks away on his fallen opponent, Axis calls for clemency.

 

“Will someone get over here and get Logan away from ringside!”

 

“There’s no stopping this man, this animal, this monster!”

 

“Just go to commercial... just go! Now damn it!”

 

*** FADE TO BLACK ***

[Guest Suicide King]

"Our next match features Wildchild against Manson," says Axis. "King, Wildchild needs to pick up a win here to get back on track in the SJL."

 

"Nobody cares about Clown-boy' here except you," replies Suicide King. "The more I see that circus freak lose, the happier I am!"

 

Axis ignores him. "Anyway, I think that for Wildchild to win, he's going to have to take advantage of his speed and agility, to hit Manson hard, fast and often."

 

"He's not going to get a chance to hit Manson," says the King, "because Manson's gonna kick his head clean off! Manson is stronger and tougher than 'Clown-boy,' and he's gonna beat him into the mat here."

 

"Without any further delay, let's go to Funyon for the match introductions," says Axis.

 

 

Standing in the ring, resplendent in a crushed velvet suit, Funyon speaks into the microphone, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a fifteen minute time limit..."

 

The arena comes alive with the sounds of "The Everlasting Gaze" by Smashing Pumpkins, and Wildchild bursts out of the backstage area, streaking down towards the ring, slapping hands with the fans as he does. With nary even a pause, Wildchild takes a running dive into the ring between the bottom and middle ropes, somersaulting towards the center, and springing immediately to his feet. He breaks out in a wide grin and bangs his head in time with his music as the crowd cheers loudly for him. Funyon says, "introducing first, from the Bahamas, weighing in at two hundred and seventeen pounds, the Wiiiiiildchiiiild!”

 

"SJL fans have become fond of the Wildchild in a very short period of time," notes Axis. "Despite not having a very successful record, he's captured many people's imaginations with his aerial artistry."

 

"The only 'Clown-boy' has captured from me is my bowels," snorts the King. "Whenever I see him, I wanna take a dump."

 

Axis glares at him. "Will you stop, please."

 

"The Everlasting Gaze" fades out and makes way for "Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong. The crowd stays on their feet and continues cheering as all the lights in the arena go dark. Suddenly, red and black strobe lights focus on the stage area as Manson throws open the curtain and makes his way from backstage. Manson walks to the edge of the stage and pantomimes a crucifix as the crowd cheers him on.

 

"Well," notes the King , "it looks as if Manson is at least as popular as 'Clown-boy' here."

 

"I thought you didn't like Manson, either," says Axis.

 

"Lesser of two evils," replies the King. "It's that simple. This is a one-time only thing for me."

 

Funyon continues speaking, "and his opponent, from New York City, weighing in at two hundred five pounds, Maaaaaaaaanson!" Manson slides into the ring near the corner underneath the bottom rope, and uses the top turnbuckle to pull himself up, tossing his leather jacket to the ring attendant as he does so. He slumps back into the corner and eyes Wildchild with a look of casual disinterest.

 

Referee Matthew Kivell motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell, and motions for the two participants to begin wrestling.

 

Wildchild eyes Manson with anticipation, waiting for him to rise, but Manson elects instead to roll underneath the bottom rope to the outside, and walk around the ring as the startled referee begins a ten-count.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

A bewildered Wildchild walks to the ropes and hold open the middle and top ropes, inviting Manson to return to the ring, but Manson flips him off and walks away from Wildchild to the other side of the ring.

 

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

 

SIX!

 

 

Fearful of a count out, Wildchild jumps out side, and begins to chase after Manson. As soon as Wildchild starts to get near him, Manson calmly rolls underneath the bottom rope back into the ring. Wildchild stopped short, looking inside the ring at Manson with a puzzled expression, before tumbling back into the ring. After rolling to his feet, Wildchild faces Manson and the two begin to circle each other in the middle of the ring, but just before they engage in a tie-up, Manson backs away again, and again exits to the ringside area. Wildchild is now beginning to become agitated, and glares outside the ring at Manson with a look of consternation. He jumps outside the ring again, and walks towards Manson, who walks away from him. Wildchild begins to give chase and, as he rounds the corner, Manson rolls back into the ring, immediately gets to his feet, and runs towards the opposite ropes. As Manson is coming off the rebound, Wildchild climbs back onto the apron, only to look up and see a pair of boots flying towards his head...

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

A baseball slide from Manson send Wildchild flying off the apron into the ringside barricade, bumping his back sharply as he tumbled backwards over the top of the barricade into the crowd.

 

"Hah," crows the King, "Manson just sent 'Clown-boy' into the seats! Looks like Manson is playing mind games with him, and I'm loving every second of seeing the freak get his!"

 

Manson casually slides outside the ring and walks over to the barricade, pulling Wildchild to his feet by the hair. He inspects Wildchild face carefully, as if looking for something and suddenly screws his face into a scowl, as if not liking what he found, and proceeding to smash Wildchild's face repeatedly against the barricade, busting him open.

 

Referee Kivell yells at Manson to return to the ring, so Manson, almost reluctantly, pulls Wildchild over the barricade, allowing him to crash face first on the arena floor, before pulling him up to his feet, and rolling him inside the ring.

 

Back in the ring, Manson quickly pulls himself to his feet, and begins delivering stiff striking kicks to the side of Wildchild's head. Wildcihld tries desperately to cover up, and rolls over onto his knees. Manson kicks Wildchild sharply in his ribs, which causes him to clutch his ribs in pain, and then delivers a stiff front kick to Wildchild's unprotected face...

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

Wildchild slumps backwards on his knees from the force of the kick, and appears to be out of it, his arms now dangling at his sides. Blood is now running freely from Wildchild's nose.

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

Manson nails Wildchild with another stiff kick to the head that sends him slumped over onto the canvas. Manson covers Wildchild with a very casual lateral press as referee Kivell makes a count...

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR--

 

 

"No! Two count only," yells Axis.

 

Manson picks Wildchild up by the hair and cinches in a front facelock. Manson briefly pulls up on Wildchild's throat in a choke, outside of the referee's field of vision. As referee Kivell walks around Manson to get a better view, Manson eases up on the choke, and brings his knee up hard into Wildchild's stomach, sending him back to the mat on his knees. While Wildchild is gasping for air, Manson climbs up on the second turnbuckle in the corner behind him, and leaps off at Wildchild, feet first.

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

"Alright," yells the King. "Missile dropkick from the second rope, right onto 'Clown-boy's' head. This match could be over even sooner than I had hoped!"

 

Manson lay atop Wildchild's body, again covering him casually as the referee begins his count...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR--

 

 

"Twooooo," yells Axis. "Manson only gets twooooo!"

 

 

 

Manson pulls Wildchild back to his feet, and again secures a front facelock. He batters Wildchild's face with a vicious series of knee strikes, as Wildchild's blood falls to the canvas with a violent splatter. Manson then picks him up in a vertical suplex position and holding him briefly in the air, and then drops to his posterior while driving Wildchild forward, planting him into the mat face-first as he sits down.

 

"Sit-out Gourdbuster," screams Axis. "That could do it!"

 

 

Manson rolls Wildchild onto his back, and leans over him for a cover...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!

 

 

 

THR--

 

 

"No," exclaims Axis, "Wildchild got the shoulder up!"

 

Manson picks Wildchild up and whips him into the far turnbuckle. He rushes at Wildchild full speed, but Wildchild dives out of the corner, causing Manson to crash into the turnbuckle chest first, which stuns him for a second. Wildchild gets to his feet as Manson stumbles backwards out of the corner and, with a sudden burst of adrenaline, dropkicks him in the back of the head to send him flying back into the turnbuckle. Manson's head bounces off the turnbuckle pad with a resounding SMACK, and he staggers out of the corner, facing the ring. Wildchild runs to the opposite ropes and bounces off running full speed at Manson, leaping into the air, and blasting him with a leg lariat that sends him tumbling outside the ring.

 

Wildchild catches his breath inside the ring as Manson shakes off the cobwebs on the arena floor. Referee Kivell begins a ten count on Manson:

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWOOOO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

Inside the ring, Wildchild suddenly springs to his feet, and eyes Manson standing up outside the ring. He runs to the corner, hopping up on the second turnbuckle, backflipping off over the top rope and outside the ring, leveling Manson with a moonsault press.

 

"Springboard Moonsault Press," exclaims Axis. "I don't believe I've ever seen anyone execute that move quite like that before!"

 

Wildchild rains fists down on Manson outside the ring as referee Kivell restarts his count to accommodate Wildchild...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

Wildchild picks Manson up and rolls him into the ring, using the ropes to pull himself onto the ring apron. As Manson gets to his feet, Wildchild quickly ascends to the top turnbuckle, measuring Manson for a missile dropkick. As he leaps off the ropes, Manson sees him out of the side of his eye, and nails him with a standing sidekick. Manson runs to the ropes, and as he bounces off, Wildchild surprises him by nipping up and leaping directly onto Manson's shoulders, taking him over with a hurricarana that sends Manson sliding backwards onto the ring apron. Wildchild looks down and notices the streaks of drying blood that adorn his chest. With a sudden shift from his trademark smile to an angry growl, Wildchild runs to the corner and Manson gets to his feet on the ring apron, jumping on the top turnbuckle, and springing off, twisting towards Manson and hooking him with a side headlock as he takes him off the apron, driving him into the arena floor with a forceful Tornado DDT, drawing an enthusiastic "Holy Shit" chant from the crowd.

 

 

"Oh my GAWD," screams Axis. "Springboard Tornado DDT to the outside!"

 

 

Glaring down at Manson, Wildchild stands up and removes the padding from the arena floor, exposing the hard concrete. He then lifts Manson to his feet and bends him over, hooking his left arm through Manson's left arm, and his right arm through Manson's right. He spins over so that Manson is draped over his back, and begins to stand up straight, so that Manson is now hanging off his shoulders, before falling backwards, driving the top of Manson's head onto the top of the concrete...

 

 

THUD!

 

 

The entire audience lets out a collective gasp as Manson's head bounces off the concrete floor, followed by another raucous "Holy Shit" chant. Manson's skull is split wide open,and is now bleeding profusely.

 

Axis sputters "Oh my GAWD~! Wild Ride to the concrete! I've never seen anything like it!"

 

 

Wildchild rolls Manson into the ring, the back of his shirt now soaked with blood, and rolls in after him. Wildchild brings his hand to his face and, upon seeing the bloodstains on his fingers, screams up into the rafters before picking Manson back up.

 

"Wildchild's gone crazy," screams Axis. "There's no telling what he's going to do now!"

 

Axis's questions are soon answered when Wildchild bends Manson back over, hooking his arms in preparation for the Wild Ride."

 

"Oh, no! He can't be going for another one," gasps Axis. "Not another Wild Ride!"

 

Wildchild stands up, with Manson again draped off his shoulders. Blood continues to drip steadily out of Manson's skull into the canvas. Wildchild again screams into the rafters before dropping back, crushing Manson's head against the mat.

 

 

THUD!

 

 

Wildchild rolls over on top of Manson and glares at Matthew Kivell expectantly. The horror-stricken Kivell stood frozen in the ring for a brief second, before shaking off his astonishment and dropping down to count the shoulders. The equally astonished crowd is virtually silent as Kivell counts...

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

Kivell motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell. "The Everlasting Gaze" can clearly be heard over the shocked murmur of the crowd. Funyon, somewhat in shock himself, speaks into the house microphone "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of the match, the Wildchild!"

 

Kivell goes to raise Wildchild's hand, but Wildchild snatches it away from him, whipping his head around wildly, and then looking into the rafters as though he heard someone speaking to him. As EMT's rush to ringside to attend to Manson, Axis and Suicide King look on in shock.

 

 

"What just happened," stammers Axis. "What's gotten into the Wildchild?"

 

"I don't know," replies the King, "but if he keeps that kind of action up, I may be forced not to hate him... Well, on second thought, let's not get too hasty."

 

Wildchild walks back up the ramp in virtual silence, constantly raising his hand to his face, and looking up into the rafters. As the cameras fade out, Axis continues to cry out, "what's gotten into the Wildchild?"

[Guest Suicide King]

I never thought I’d hear the crowds again…

 

I can’t help but smile right now. I’m back where I belong: 50 feet from the curtain that separates the magic from the madness. Countless people running around, trying to tweak this, and adjust that… Just to make sure the brain-busting action from the ring gets sent to millions of viewers worldwide… To make sure that the tens of thousands in attendance get a show that’s worth the price of admission. The man at the house lighting and sound controls gives me a thumbs-up. Everything’s ready. Am I? I take a quick mental look at myself… Jacket, check… Marauders… Shined, steely, and ready to kick ass. Shades? Ever-present. The ring… I sigh, pressing the ring to my chest through the jacket. She’s here with me… I know it… Feeling myself a little unnerved and uneasy, I turn the closed circuit TV on… It’s partly to kill some time… It’s also to try to ignore the growing feeling of excited nervousness in my gut. I feel like I’m wrestling my first match again… But I guess, I suppose, I am. The TV shows a blue screen for a few moments, and then the Crimson theme music blasts all around me… From outside the curtain, and inside the TV. The music fights the crowd for Decibel air superiority inside the facility…

 

The camera shot swings wide arcs around the complex, drinking in the varieties of life where fans are concerned… In the cases of some of the more well-endowed females in the crowd, however… The term “drinking in” would be better described as “chugging fuckin’ hardcore!” Finally, the camera tears itself away from cleavage, and winds itself down to floor level, focusing on the lead of the Crimson announcing team…

 

“Welcome back to SJL Crimson, everyone!” Axis yells over the raucous crowd as the camera gains better focus. “Axis here, with the ever-evil Suicide Queen…”

 

“Hey!” the Suicide King growls off camera. “Watch the language, Ass-Kiss!” Axis clears his throat.

 

“You’re one to talk, King of Hard…” Off camera, King is heard spraying his drink, a Pepsi MAX Squared, all over the place. With his need for a reaction fulfilled, Axis continues on. “We’ve had a hellacious card so far, and the next match promises to be more of the same.” Axis glances over with a smug, self-serving smile. “You’re up, Kingie.” The camera pulls back slowly to get both men in shot… And indeed, King is cleaning up spewed pop from all over the place. He glares up at Axis, and then recovers.

 

“That’s right, you flaming pile of…” King is cut off with a glare from Axis. He huffs, and then continues on. “We’re looking at a table match between the most secretive member of the SJL, and a returning quasi-veteran from the days of the IGNML and JL. This will be a… Vaguely… Entertaining match between Johnny “The Barracuda” Dangerous, and…”

 

“Mister Fury?” I snap my attention from the closed circuit to find the sound and lights man looking at me. How long was he trying to get my attention? 30 seconds? It felt like forever…

 

“Mister Fury, is everything alright?”

 

“Yeah, I’m good,” I answer as I flip off the TV, cutting off King’s rant about having two ‘sucky’ faces wrestling. I offer up a faint smile. “Just getting ready. Thanks…” I look at the man’s uniform, finding a nametag. “Jack.” Jack smiles and nods at me.

 

“Not a problem, Mister Fury...”

 

“Please… Call me Chris.”

 

“Alright… Chris. I’ve got your entrance all cued up and set to rock the house… Want to check it out?” I walk towards the curtain, feeling the energy from the stage beyond shifting just slightly… Call it experience with the crowd, but they seem to know when the stars are about to come out.

 

“No,” I answer. “I’m sure it’s perfect. Let’s cue it up.” Jack returns to his board, and plays it like a keyboard. I can see the house lights drop down to nothing… The flashbulbs coming up… Either there are a lot of old-school fans out there that remember me, or just a bunch of people looking for blood and carnage from broken tables and bodies. In the meanwhile, I start to hear the faint strains of “Aerials” over the house speakers. The fans seems to take the volume of the music, as they calm down… Maybe they’re trying to hear for something… Who knows? All I know is that in a few moments, they’ll be pleasantly surprised.

 

BOOM! I feel the heat from the pyros leaking through the thick curtain as they go off. The guitar solo jams over the speakers louder than anything, and the crowd responds right with it. Jack gives me a final nod as I take my kendo stick in hand, push the curtain aside, and walk into…

 

Chaos…

 

Blissful chaos…

 

Noise and lights…

 

It’s home.

 

I can’t help but smile to myself as I start walking down the entrance ramp. The crowd is receptive, but I try not to show much of a reaction. The speakers cut in with the announcer’s voice as I keep walking.

 

“This match is a tables match,” the announcer states over the fiery crowd, “Scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Cleveland, Ohio… Standing 6 feet, 3 inches tall… Weighing in at 227 pounds… He is… Chrissssssssssstiannnnnnnnnn… FUUUUUUUUUURYYYYYYYYYY!” The crowds’ voices lift up louder, making the very air reverberate around me. I jump onto the ring apron, then springboard into the ring, just to give the crowd a teaser. They love it, chanting my name…

 

It’s awesome to be back again… I slip the jacket and glasses off, and slide them and the kendo stick out of the ring. I eye the crowd, and then turn my gaze towards the entrance as my music fades away… The house lights dim again, and a sultry female voice flows silkily through the speakers:

 

“Johnny Dangerous!” And the fans respond with an explosive roar of cheers! I’m almost insulted, but I remember: I’m the new one here now. Suddenly my reverie is interrupted as the theme from “Mission Impossible 2” nearly blows out the massive wall-to-wall sound system! A colorful array of lights begins circling over the arena. On the screen, I see various clips of this guy performing many spy-like actions… Like jumping from a moving chopper onto the back of a semi tanker… There are also clips of this guy in action in the ring, and he sure as Hell seems fast. And here comes the ‘spy’ now… He strides from backstage and out towards the ring without a care in the world. The announcer looks at me for a moment with a faint shrug, and then turns on the mic.

 

“Introducing next,” he states, “Hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada. He stands at 6 feet, and weighs in at 205 pounds… He is… Johnny… DAAAAAAAAAANGEROUS!” The crowd’s reaction threatens to tear down the Melon Arena as he takes the time to wink at a few ladies… Blowing a kiss in their general direction before hopping foot into the ring. I look at him… And he looks at me. And I can tell that this guy means business.

 

This could get ugly.

 

The bell rings, and I turn towards my opponent… God, he looks so out of place, in that faux Armani and tie. One of the crazier get-ups I’ve seen. But, as I advance on him and him on me, my thoughts focus on one thing: This Bond-wannabe is my opponent, and there’s one thing I have to do…

 

I’ve got to put his penguiny ass through a table!

 

We meet mid-ring, and suddenly I’m seized by a gnawing, ring-rust-induced worry about how to proceed. The Dangerous Man helps me answer that question by moving to lock up. I respond in kind, and we start doing this bizarre wrestling version of the tango in the middle of the squared circle. Instinct kicks in, and I maneuver quickly around, getting him into a nasty arm wringer. Seems safe, until he moves even quicker, and reverses.

 

Damn, I forgot how painful that really was.

 

I grit my teeth, and slowly get my arm extracted out of the hold, and to a ‘normal’ position. Then I throw the old shoulder block into his chest, and gain a momentary reprieve as he falls back a step. A quick mental ‘damage report’ tells me all is well for now, and a good thing… Mister Spy Guy wants to lock back up. Feeling my confidence building, I indulge him, and immediately get him back into a state of ‘pretzel arm’. I must’ve let my guard down or something, because he gives me a quick escape and whip to the ropes… No big deal, I think to myself coming off the ropes. I’ll hit him on the rebound with a clothesline, or maybe break out the bulldog…

 

”Thus far a boring match,” the King mutters, yawning. “Lock-ups and arm wringers… Oooooh…! Two faces can really fight each other!” He rolls his eyes, completing the sarcastic air.

 

“Irish whip by Dangerous,” Axis states, ignoring the idiot besides him. Suddenly, Dangerous does a pirouette-type maneuver. “What the Hell…?” The meaning becomes clear as Dangerous lances his leg out with startling speed… And plants the heel of his foot straight into the rebounding Fury’s jaw! The crowd breaks out in a massive roar as Fury crumples to the mat!

 

“Holy shit!” Axis screams as the crowd echoes the sentiment. “Dangerous just laid Fury out with that spinning heel kick! The ring rust is evident on the returning star, but probably got cleaned out with that massive shot!”

 

“Now that’s a move, Axis!” King crows, panting. “Knocked him clear into next week!” King chugs on his Pepsi MAX Squared as Axis groans. Meanwhile, Dangerous strides around the ring, macking to the women in the crowd.

 

“It was a fucking heel kick!” Axis blurts out. “No need to have an orgasm over it…” King smirks, rolling his eyes.

 

“Like you’d know what one of those is…”

 

Time out, taken by the defense… They have two time outs remaining. Okay, Coach… Time to pull it back together.

 

I manage to unscramble my aching brain cells and recover my senses enough to look for the Mack truck that made me into road kill. He’s not in the general vicinity, and that’s good. The broadband network that is my nervous system is running at analog speeds at the moment, and that’s not good for that thing called “movement”. I continue to survey the scene, and… I hear the crowd starting to cheer… That can’t be good…

 

Oh, shit. Mister Bond’s on the top turnbuckle, and looking smug and sure. This could be potentially not good. I’d better get moving.

 

Or maybe… I should play dead; get him to bite. That’s the ticket. Dangerous is playing dangerous as he’s leaping down elbow-first towards me… Damn! The little spy-fry even falls fast! I will the old body to get the Hell out of the way with help from the crowd’s energy… And my efforts are rewarded with the resounding ‘Thud!’ that marks a missed high-risk maneuver. As I look over, I close my eyes, realizing just how lucky I was: He landed no more than a foot from me… And he’s already climbing to his feet! I follow him up, hoping to do what he didn’t before: press the advantage. That kick before knocked off a huge chunk of the ring rust, and got me back into the fighting state of mind. The crowd’s all whipped up now. They just want blood, abuse, and lots of broken stuff…

 

CRACK!!! So much for pressing the advantage… I can’t let myself get distracted again… He’s too quick. I pull the pain from the punch to the head, and load it into my fist… Let it fly… And I smile a bit as my knuckles connect with his face. He staggers back, and I press in on him…

 

CRACK!!! Where the fuck did that come from, I’m thinking as I wobble back a few steps. I charge in on him again, looking to put momentum behind a powerful punch, and knock this twit from Pittsburgh, PA to Los Angeles, CA. Suddenly, he side steps, grabbing my arm, and switching my charge to his Irish whip. I careen off the ropes, bounding back towards him… And he’s trying for another spin kick! He obviously didn’t remember the phrase about ‘going to the well too many times’. I gauge the distance I need, then stop dead. As his leg swings around, I admire his reaction: cocky on the follow-through, shocked as I catch his leg in mid-air, then determined… Wait… Determined?

 

The crowd explodes as Dangerous launches up with the free leg, and slaps a kick upside Fury’s head! Fury staggers back, stunned, as Dangerous twists in mid-air, hits the mat on his hands and feet, and springs back up!

 

“Johnny Dangerous putting on an amazing display of speed and athleticism,” Axis coos as Dangerous stalks over to Fury, grabbing him up by the ponytail. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a spy!”

 

“Hey Johnny!” King chimes in, waving frantically. “The table is over here!” Dangerous, being a decent distance away, doesn’t hear. What Dangerous does do is lock his arm around Fury’s waist, pinning an arm to Fury’s side…

 

“Why should he come over to this table?” Axis asks as Dangerous lift Fury off the mat, swinging in an about-face, and slamming him down, putting his weight down. The crowd blows up, forcing Axis to yell to finish his statement. “There are plenty of tables…” As he looks around, he sees three things: One, Dangerous has Fury locked up in an inverted face lock. Two… Contrary to what he thought, there’s only the one table, which has a very odd shine to it, set up in front of the announce table. Three, his color partner is smiling… Well… Evilly. “Alright… What did you do?”

 

“I had the rest of the clutter taken away,” King answers with a careless shrug. The crowd grows louder as Fury fights out of the face lock with a few well-placed elbows to the gut. Unfortunately, it only gets him rocketed across the ring with an Irish whip. “You only really need one table for a tables match, and besides… Damn!” His expletive is barely heard over the renewed ruckus from the crowd as Fury leaps coming off the ropes, and drills Dangerous hard in the gut with a desperation Gore move!

 

“Wow, that was a good reversal by Fury!” Axis yells over the crowd, and then turns to King. “Besides what?” he asks warily, half-watching as Fury pulls himself and Dangerous to their collective feet.

 

“Besides,” the King responds as the crowd ‘Oohs’ and ‘Aahs’ as Fury levels chop after chop against Dangerous’ threads. “I only have one cigarette.” Axis eyes the lit cig in the ashtray near King.

 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Axis states slowly, unsure of the connection. King eyes the cig, then the table, and then the two combatants in the ring. He smiles cruelly as Fury kicks Dangerous in the gut, and scissors his head.

 

“I don’t.”

 

Finally!

 

As I lift Dangerous up, and sit down to plant his head into the mat, I finally feel like I’ve shaken the ring rust off. I’ve put together a nice chain of offense, and feel like I am ready to finish the job. I pick the vaguely mobile Dangerous off the ground, and then look around for the nearest plank of plywood with legs. Ahh, there it is… Set up and everything… How nice. I start dragging the helpless spy towards his doom, soaking in the cheering, stomping, bloodthirsty crowd. It’s great to be back… I feel like the bad guy in all those cheesy spy movies… I almost feel like screaming, “No, Mister Dangerous… I expect you to crash through a table!” Then I’ll start laughing maniacally…

 

THUD!!!!

 

As the enormous jolt of masculine pain finds a happy niche in my brain, I just feel like screaming. I also remember that mutant piranha usually eat the bad guys in those spy movies. At least the crowd’s sympathetic, ‘ooh’ing at a shot to the marbles. I recover from my slumped-over position just in time to see Dangerous coming off the turnbuckle, flying at me feet-first fucking parallel to the mat. So much for momentum, I guess, as I fall back to the ground. I really want to rest right now, considering I’m back down on the mat and pretty banged-up and tired. I see Dangerous climbing back up to the top rope… He really is a high-risk kind of guy. He’s making a big production out of this one… Must be a finisher… And off he comes, with… Ooh, a hurricanrana… Not bad, but easily avoidable… Got you now, you cocky little so-and-so.

 

”Dangerous must be going for the Secret Splash!” Axis shouts over the swelling crowd… Dangerous is macking at the ladies from the top turnbuckle, but then decides that the match is more important, and flips off of the buckle, spiraling into the air!

 

“Here comes the end of the new old guy, everyone!” King yells as… Dangerous makes contact with absolutely nothing besides the mat! Fury rolled out of the way… Again! The crowd goes ape-shit over the twist of fortune, eating up the damage and carnage. “What the Hell! This guy won’t give it up already!”

 

“That’s right!” Axis shouts with a grin as Fury stands up slowly, picking Dangerous up, and then kicking him in the ribs. “He’s a fighter, and that’s what we need here…”

 

I start dragging the little bastard towards the corner… Thankfully he’s stunned, because he is a bit too fast to handle under normal conditions. Climbing the turnbuckle, I feel a small sense of power… Hearing the crowd, too… It’s a feeling unlike any other. I grab a hold of his arm, and drape a leg over his neck. I wait a few moments, letting the crowd savor it… Then I jump down, letting gravity and my weight take over.

 

WHAM!!!! I bounce away a bit, and leave Dangerous there. He’s not exactly moving…

 

And that was the whole point! I did it: My first successful finisher in this return trip. I’d better really finish it quickly, though, or it’s all for moot.

 

”That was an amazing move by Fury!” Axis blurts over the explosive crowd noise. “I think he calls that ‘Let’s Roll’, after the line uttered by Todd Beamer.”

 

“Man,” King responds, “What a heinous raping of a tragedy for his own uses.” Axis laughs at King’s side as Fury pulls the spy up by his hair, heading for the ropes. “What are you laughing about? It’s not very face-like, is it?”

 

“Oh shut up!” Axis grumbles as Fury slings Dangerous over the ropes, and down to the floor below. Fury pulls Dangerous up to standing next to the table, and then jumps up. Suddenly, the crowd roars as Dangerous goes flying backwards onto the table. Fury grins, then climbs up onto the apron… Then the top turnbuckle! The crowd is going totally, certifiably nuts! “He’s going for something big! This could be it!”

 

“Oh, it’s going to be big,” King utters, then tosses the unsmoked, still-lit cigarette onto the table. It sizzles softly, and then seems to go out. Axis looks at King.

 

“What the Hell’s that about?”

 

“You’ll see.” Fury looks down, not distracted by the goings-on. He leaps, flipping over into a picture-perfect hurricanrana… Suddenly, the table fizzles, and then bursts into flames! “There! There it is!” The crowd gasps, and suddenly there’s a mess of flaming, gelled plywood flying around, with two bodies in the middle. The timekeeper rings the bell, and the EMS crews rush down to the scene. The announcer, still in a state of shock, picks up the mic.

 

“The winner of the match… Christian… FUUUUUUUUUURYYYYYYYYYY!” The crowd cheers ferociously as the EMS crew carts off the two men. Axis just looks stunned… The Suicide King looks piss-pleased with himself…

 

"Let me guess," Axis gasps out, looking at the smoldering mess.

 

"Yup," King finishes for him, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Hollywood stunt-grade flammable gel. Good shit. Makes for a nice ending, don't you agree?"

 

“Well…” Axis utters, in a state of shock, “We’ll… Uhm… We’ll be back.”

 

I did it… I won… The flaming table was a nice, and… Well… Dangerous touch. I’d laugh, but I hurt all over. I can feel the med techs lifting me up, hauling me about… But I won. The announcer said so. I’ll be back for the next match… I know it… But in the meantime, I know I made everyone proud… Everyone that matters, wherever they are.

 

I’m tired now… Goodnight…

[Guest Suicide King]

SJL Crimson fades back onto thousands, if not millions of televisions. The camera pans down the ramp, showing all the ringside fans along the right side of the ramp. The camera then centers on the two SJL commentators.

 

“Welcome back to SJL CRIMSON…” announces Axis with what seems like excitement.

 

“Weak…” adds the Suicide King being his usual, critical self. “LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, and Aussies too, WELCOME BACK TO S-J-L CRIIIIIIIMSON!”

 

“Thank you,” replies Axis with a little sarcasm.

 

The camera centers on the entrance ramp as the lights in The Melon Arena. The fans begin to boo as Marilyn Manson’s “Fight Song” hits the sound system as pyro illuminates the entrance ramp. Jack the Ripper steps out from the dark and walks slowly down the ring. Jack pauses to laugh at fans with there arms reached out and to shout at a few before jumping up onto the apron and then the outside of the turnbuckle.

 

“This bout set for one fall, Introducing first, hailing from London, England and weighing in at 215 pounds, JAAAAAACK THE RIIIIIIPPER!” shouts Funyon, ignoring the boos from the audience.

 

“Jack the Ripper is set to take on Spike Jenkins tonight,” comments Axis. “Both men are coming off of big title match losses. Spike Jenkins the World Title and Jack the Ripper the European.”

 

“Loser vs. Loser,” adds the Suicide King, laughing at his own joke.

 

Jack holds his arm up and points to it saying, “the European belongs here!” The Ripper then jumps into the ring and tests out the ropes by leaning backwards on them.

 

“The King of the world is dead, long live Jack!” comments the Suicide King.

 

Jack the Ripper then bends down in his fighting position. “King of your own world” by Smugface erupts from the sound system as gold sparks rise up from under the entrance ramp. Spike Jenkins steps out onto the ramp to continued boos. Spike just stands there as gold sparks light up the ramp, as he breathes in and out. After a few seconds Spike starts making his way down to the ring.

 

“And his opponent, hailing in from Hollywood, California, weighing in at 220 pounds, SPIIIIIIIIIIIKE JENKINS,” screams out Funyon as Spike slides into the ring.

 

“This should be a great match, they’re around the same height and their weights are only 5 pounds apart,” comments Axis comparing the two wrestlers.

 

The referee, Matthew Kivell stands in front of Jack the Ripper as Spike walks around the steel steps and steps into the ring.

 

“DING! DING! DING”

 

Both wrestlers circle around each other for a moment, both men waiting for the other to do something, maybe even mess up. Jack the Ripper breaks away from the cycle of circling for a moment to lean up against the rope before reaching out his arm, asking Spike to grab it. The Ripper waits a moment and as Spike cautiously reaches his arm out, the Ripper goes for a quick roundhouse kick to Jenkins’ head. Spike backs up quickly avoiding the quick and slowly moving away from Jack, working out what he’s going to do next.

 

“Jack trying to lure Spike Jenkins into a trap,” comments Axis. “Both of these men are good with tricks. But I don’t think cheating is going to win this match.”

 

“Kings and serial killers don’t have to cheat,” adds the Suicide King.

 

Jack the Ripper and Spike Jenkins lock up simultaneously. Jack the Ripper overpowers Spike and locks in a wristlock with a kick to the stomach. Jack then whips him into the turnbuckle, but he takes him all the way to the turnbuckle and doesn’t let go of the wristlock. The Ripper jumps over the ropes next to the turnbuckle onto the apron, still holding onto a wristlock.

 

“Jack the Ripper going up on the turnbuckle already?” asks Axis in what seems to be between a statement and a question as the Ripper climbs up the back of the turnbuckle, still holding onto Spike’s wrist.

 

Jack the Ripper then lets go of Spike’s arm as he jumps into the air and flips onto his backside. Before he hits the ground he gets his head under Spike’s legs, grabs Spike’s stomach and pulls him down for a sit down-type powerbomb and then a pin attempt.

 

1

.

.

.

SPIKE GETS HIS SHOULER UP

 

“Spike Jenkins gets his shoulder up before two,” comments Axis. “Not even a high-risk maneuver like that can get Jack the win this early in the match.”

 

Spike rolls over and jumps up as the Ripper pulls himself up using the turnbuckle behind him. Jack, trying to use an advantage as subtle as being up two seconds before Spike, delivers a hard kick to Spike’s ankle. He then places one leg behind Spike, grabs him and hits a Russian Leg Sweep. Jack the Ripper quickly applies an arm bar, but not quickly reverses it with a few hard blows to Jack’s head. Jenkins pulls Jack down and applies his own arm bar. Matthew Kivell kneels down and checks to see if Jack wants to quit.

 

“HE’S THE KING OF THE WORLD,” shouts out the Suicide King, playing his random dialogue card.

 

The Rippers reaches forward and grabs the bottom rope as Spike Jenkins takes advantage of Jack having no free arms with a few punches to the head. Spike lets go after a prompt from the referee. Spike quickly jumps up and climbs up onto the second ropes as Jack lies there. Spike jumps off with a spinning leg drop, but Jack rolls out of the ring before Jenkins lands. The Ripper then grabs Spike’s nearest leg and pulls him outside of the ring and immediately delivers stomps, as Matthew Kivell is slow to start delivering the count out.

 

“These two men won’t hesitate to deliver low blows or cheap shots to each other,” adds Axis. “This should turn out to be an interesting match.”

 

Jack pulls Spike up and whips him into the steel gate that separates the ringside area from the fans. Some fans tap and grabs at Spike as he falls to the ground after that hit. Jack then pulls Spike up and whips him into the ring as he jumps onto the apron and then jumps over the ropes into the ring.

 

Jack the Ripper kneels down next to Spike, who lies on his stomach and applies an arm bar and crossface with separate arms as he jams his knee into Spike’s back. Matthew Kivell drops to his knees to check the yelling Spike Jenkins. Despite the hold, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins shows no sign of tapping or giving up.

 

“Jack working on that back after Spike’s back hit that steel barrier,” comments Axis on Jack’s strategy.

 

“His arm and neck have got to hurt too,” adds the Suicide King, with the first intelligent thing he’s said the entire match.

 

Spike reaches for the nearest ropes, but the ropes are about 6-7 feet away from Spike. The Ripper lets go; deciding on what he thinks would be more effective. Once up, Jack immediately starts stomping on Spike’ back before standing over him Spike and applying a camel clutch, bending back Spike’s back and pulling on his neck. It doesn’t take long before Spike Jenkins breaks out with a mixture of punches aimed at Jack’s head, elbows to Jack’s legs and attempts at tripping Jack. The Ripper falls forward allowing Spike Jenkins to get up and apply his Smoke out (walls of Jericho). This is also shortly lived as Jack wraps his legs around one of Spike’s leg and uses one arm to grab the other before delivering a schoolboy. Matthew Kivell drops down to administer the count…

 

1

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2

SPIKE JENKINS REVERSES BY OUTPOWERING JACK WITH HIS LEGS.

 

Spike Jenkins uses his legs to push Jack onto his back and go for his own school boy…

 

1

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2

JACK THE RIPPER KICKS OUT

 

“Both men get out after a two count,” concludes Axis.

 

 

Jack the Ripper and Spike Jenkins roll away from each other and each shows no sign of movement for a few seconds. Both men make it to their feet by a 5 count. Jack backs up into the corner to recuperate and get ready while Spike leans onto against the rope, getting ready.

 

“Back to square one,” adds Axis.

 

Both men inch forward, ready for the other to do almost anything. Jack lunges into Spike Jenkins only to meet a series of hard punches. Spike then whips Jack into the turnbuckle before jumping up onto the second rope, enclosing Jack there. He follows up with the famous ten-punch, even though he is a heel.

 

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

 

Jack the Ripper ducks under Spike’s legs, but before he can do anything Spike turns around and delivers a missile drop kick to Jack, landing them both on the mat. Both men make it to their feet at approximately the same time. Spike whips Jack the Ripper to the Ropes and misses a regular clothesline; Jack bounces off the opposite ropes and hits a flying clothesline and then an arm bar. Spike throws an elbow and easily breaks out of the arm bar. Jack the Ripper pulls Spike up, trying to keep calm. Jack whips Spike into the ropes before lifting up and dropping Spike’s back onto his knee, doing a hard backbreaker. Instead of pushing Spike off of his knee, Jack holds Spike’s back onto his knee and pushes down on both sides of his body, putting pressure on Spike’s back.

 

“He’s trying to break Spike’s back,” comments Axis in a louder than usual voice.

 

Jack the Ripper then shoves Spike off of his knee and goes for a pin…

 

1

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2

JACK PLACES HIS LEG ON THE SECOND ROPE

.

.

MATTHEW KIVELL STOPS COUNTING

 

“Jack almost got away with that one,” comment Axis for the benefit of the fans watching at home.

 

“It’s only fair,” adds the Suicide King, for the benefit of himself.

 

“How is Jack the Ripper placing his legs up on the rope fair?” asks Axis, knowing he’s not going to get an intelligent answer, if any.

 

Jack the Ripper pulls Spike Jenkins to his feet only to be bombarded with hard punches to his head. Spike delivers a DDT to Jack the Ripper before climbing up onto the top of the turnbuckle. Jack the Ripper slowly makes his way to his feet with the help of ropes. Spike Jenkins leaps through the air with a cross body, but Jack counters with a dropkick, landing Spike next to the turnbuckle.

 

“Jack the Ripper must’ve seen that out of the corner of his eye,” comments Axis on the cross-body counter.

 

Spike makes it to his feet right as Jack makes it over to him. Spike kicks Jack the Ripper in the stomach before going for a DDT, but the Ripper counters with a few hard hits to Spike’s stomach before lifting him up straight into the air, his legs pointing upward. Jack lets Spike fall back as he drops down to a sit down position. Although Jack doesn’t let go of Spike’s head, the result is a huge sit down neck breaker.

 

“Jack the Ripper pulls off the Ripping! What a huge neckbreaker,” shouts out Axis. “That’s got to be one of the most dangerous neckbreakers I’ve ever see.”

 

“What a move,” adds the Suicide King in a shout.

 

Jack leans back and hooks Spike’s right leg for a pin attempt…

 

 

1

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2

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3

 

“DING! DING! DING!”

 

Marilyn Manson’s “The Fight Song” hits as the fans boo and cheer at Jack. The cheering is for the huge neckbreaker and the fact that Spike Jenkins’ a heel and the boos are because Jack is a heel. It comes down to who the audience hates more.

 

“What a match that was,” comments Axis in the aftermath of the match. “Jack the Ripper gets a really big win here after losing the European Title to Tim Dillon.

 

Jack the Ripper makes his way up the ramp, yelling at fans who boo or yell something at him.

 

~Fade to Black~

[Guest Suicide King]

We return to SJL Metal and all guns are a-blazin’ tonight! The crowd is hot as the Metal graphic appears on the SmarksTron, Kamikaze and Mike Van Siclen standing side-by-side, Katelyn in the background as the words “World Title Number One Contendership – TONIGHT” are underneath. The crowd roars as the shot shifts to a crowd-pan, picking up signs such as “Mike Van YOUR NEXT WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, SUCKA!”, “I Wish Kamikaze Would Go Crazy With Me”, and your standard Santana reference, “Maria Maria, you remind me of the West Side Story.” We switch to another shot, this one of Axis and the Suicide King, sitting at ringside and ready to call the match.

 

(Axis) – “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Metal! Tonight, live, in that very ring, we have a spectacular double main event!”

 

(King, with a huge fake smile on his face) – “That’s right, Axis! Tonight, we have Mike Van Siclen, that fine physical specimen, taking on the kooky crazy Kamikaze! And in our other match,” King scrunches up his face in mock anger, “that dastardly Judge Mental goes against Tim Dillon and Matt Myers in what is sure to be excellent!”

 

(Axis) – “Wow, King, you sound really excited tonight!”

 

(King) – “Yeah, well, it’s really fucking hard to be excited when you only like one person out of five – fucking five! - in two big matches. So tonight, the rock-paper-scissors game to end all rock-paper-scissors games! I will be Mike Van Siclen, and you, Axis, will be Kamikaze! Whichever one of us wins is the one I will cheer for in tonight’s match!”

 

(Axis) – “King, that’s a bit retarded.”

 

(King) – “Only slightly less retarded than your average thirteen year old! C’mon, Axis… rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

 

Axis draw rock, and King draws paper.

 

(King) – “Mike Van Siclen it is! Now, to Funyon for the introductions!”

 

We cut to a shot of Funyon in the ring, while faintly over the mic we hear King saying: “Is my mic cut off? Good, I hate how that fucking Kasma made me act like Edwin… no, Brits don’t equal ratings! Ohio! Cleveland rocks!” Finally, someone has the since to cut King’s microphone off as Funyon clears his throat mid-ring and begins the introductions.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE fall, and it is possibly for the NUMBER ONE CONTENDERSHIP to the S! J! L! WORLD heavyweight championship!”

 

Godsmack’s “I Stand Alone” hits the speakers and Kamikaze steps out onto the entrance ramp, his head darting from side to side in what could be called paranoia as the crowd absolutely goes BALLISTIC! Kamikaze grins and runs down the ramp, sliding into the ring and quickly scaling the turnbuckle, tossing his head back so that his brown hair falls and yelling “KAMIKAZE!” to the delight of the crowd.

 

“Introducing first, weighing in at two-HUNDRED thirty-five pounds, he hails from Minnetonka, Minnesota, he is KAAAAAAAAAA-MIIIIIII-KAAAAAAA-ZEEEEEE!”

 

We zoom out to a nearly full shot of the arena as the logo of “Frost Cigars©” embeds itself in the upper left-hand corner of you, the viewer’s, screen and the words “TALE OF THE TAPE™” flash across. The familiar yellow bars pop up, Kamikaze on one side and Mike Van Siclen on the other, with each man’s vitals in the middle.

 

(Axis) – “As you can see from this graphic, both men are about the same height and weight. However, and this is unusual, Mike has a staggering reach advantage, by almost 10”! That’s unheard of, especially when his and Kami’s states are nearly identical everywhere else!”

 

(King) – “Very true, Axis, and this bodes well for Van Siclen. If he can get Kaze in a position where that reach could come in handy, he could completely change the outcome of the match!”

 

King and Axis’ speculation is forced to come to a halt as the SmarksTron shuts off, the lights going off completely in the building as the bottom half of a female face appears on the ‘Tron, sultry red lips speaking the words…

 

“He’ll shut you down…”

 

BOOM~! BANGBANGBANG! An explosion of blue pyro on the stage nearly blows the roof off of the arena as “Shut ‘Em Down” by LL Cool J kicks up and suddenly, Mike Van Siclen steps from behind the curtain and onto the ramp, the crowd roaring for him as he grins, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes as he begins to slowly walk down the ramp, Katelyn following him as the two reach the bottom of the ramp, Mike sliding in and holding the ropes open for Katelyn, who poses mid-ring before sliding out and leaving Mike alone, him stretching for his match as Funyon gets on the mic again.

 

“And his opponent, weighing in at two-hundred and thirty-seven pounds, he hails from Harrison, Illinois, the Amazin’ one himself, MIIIIIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIIIIIIIICK-LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINN!”

 

(Axis) – “Look at this crowd cheer, King!”

 

(King) – “Obviously, they’re sucking up to me. I appreciate that.”

 

-=:Ding Ding Ding:=-

 

Van Siclen and Kaze circle each other to begin the match, a feeling-out process that neither one of them truly excels at… but, come on, it’s feeling each other out. Anyway, the two charge each other, and lock up collar-and-elbow style. Mike grabs Kamikaze by the arm, dashin’ and a flashin’ behind Kami and locking in a hammerlock. Kami, however, manages to twirl around, straightening both of their arms out before wrenching Mike’s over in a vicious arm wrench! Kamikaze lifts his leg up, looking for a Yakuza kick, but Mike ducks, and Kamikaze’s momentum spins him around and the pressure shifts so that Mike now holds him in an arm wrench!

 

(Axis) – “Some nice technical wrestling from the two men, both of whom want desperately a shot at Judge Mental on Crimson!”

 

(King) – “And what a surprise that Van Siclen has the edge? The man is a true professional, and he deserves his World title!”

 

Mike, now, puts Kami’s arms between his legs and lifts Kaze up, looking for a Pumphandle Slam early, but Kami slides behind Mike, shoving him into the ropes! Mike comes back and Kami jumps up, looking for a heel kick, but Mike slides underneath it! Kaze lands unsteadily, facing the crowd, and Mike takes the opportunity to lock in the standing Crossface! He looks for the Halo, but Kami grabs the ropes, and Mike yanks to no avail. Angrily, he smashes Kami across the back of the head, but Kaze comes right back with a kick to the side of Mike’s head, knocking the Amazin’ one to the mat!

 

(Axis) – “More finesse wrestling by the two combatants, but Mike stops that with a hard forearm to Kami’s scalp, which the Unmentally Sane one countered with a kick to the face!”

 

(King) – “That son of a bitch used the ropes! Kamikaze used the motherfucking ropes! That’s goddamn cheating!”

 

(Axis) – “Oh, like you never did that.”

 

(King) – “Not on purpose!”

 

Van Siclen gets to his feet slowly, never taking his (angry) eyes off of Kamikaze. He stands, eyes burning a hole through Kami’s face as he runs forward and, with a furious, primal roar, charges Kaze! Kami luckily moves, but Mike bounces off and catches Kaze with a STIFF~! Clothesline, right across Kamikaze’s neck! Kaze goes down, and Mike stares down at him, anger in his eyes as he climbs the ropes deliberately, facing a booing crowd and snarling before doing a dazzling backflip off… and completely missing his mark! Kaze rolls out of the way at the last possible second and suddenly finds himself in the driver’s seat of the matchup.

 

(Axis) – “Van Siclen hits Kamikaze square across the neck with that clothesline, but he misses with the Moonsault and Kaze is now in control.”

 

(King) – “Mike is smart, though… he’s targeting Kamikaze’s neck, and while it’s not affecting him now, wait until late in the match.”

 

(Axis) – “If Mike makes it that far.”

 

(King) – “Well, you -know- he will.”

 

Kaze lifts Van Siclen to his feet, grabbing the Amazin’ one by the arm and whipping him into the ropes. Van Siclen comes back, and Kami lifts him into powerslam position… but holds him there! The crowd roars as Kami flashes a smile, and then… BAM! Mike lands on the canvas, all of Kamikaze’s 235 pounds on top of him. Kaze again smiles, bridging for the pinfall.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“TH- NO!” Kickout by Van Siclen, but Kami doesn’t care, as he goes to the turnbuckle, climbing to rope number TWOOOOO~! And posing for the crowd, everybody in the arena knowing what’s coming next!

 

(Axis) – “Kamikaze is looking for his trademark second rope legdrop on Van Siclen, rather early in the match I might add!”

 

(King) – “See, Axis, the beauty in that is that both of these men are used to fighting people they must outlast, and they know that they can go balls-out and the other person will be just as tired.”

 

(Axis) – “Me with the plays, you with the insight, this commentary team’s future looks pretty bright!”

 

(King) – “… Axis, that sounded as wrong as me saying balls-out.”

 

Van Siclen kicks his legs involuntarily as Kamikaze leaps off, his legs spread… but Mike rolls out of the way this time, and Kaze lands ass-first on the mat! Mike stands up, bouncing off of the ropes and BAM! Rocket dropkick to the back of Kamikaze’s neck, and he snaps forward, folding himself in half before his upper body falls backwards, laying him out on the mat. Van Siclen pants for the camera as he lifts Kamikaze to his feet, yelling at the shorter man as he puts Kamikaze into a standing scissors! Mike grins, the crowd booing more from not knowing the next move than from actively hating MVS. Van Siclen lifts Kamikaze’s waist, and Kaze’s upper body follows as Mike puts him into powerbomb position! Mike looks for the powerbomb… but Kaze falls back, and Mike is Hurricanranaed out of his boots! Hurricane keeps the leglock for the cover!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

Mike brings his legs way back, hooking Kamikaze by the arms and rolling forward into a clutch pin!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“TH- NO!” Kaze rolls backwards out of the hold, grabbing ahold of his neck a bit as Mike gets to his feet.

 

(Axis) – “A nice exchange by Kamikaze and Van Siclen there, and both men very nearly won the match!”

 

(King) – “Mike could’ve had Kamikaze there, but he realized that he wasn’t going to get the title shot unless he made Kamikaze submit, so he let Kamikaze roll out of the hold.”

 

(Axis) – “No, I’m quite sure Kami got out on his own.”

 

(King) – “No. No, you are a liar.”

 

Van Siclen and Kamikaze stare at each other once more, and they circle and charge each other yet again. MVS gains the upper hand yet again, shoving Kami into the ropes and lifts the chin… SMACK!

 

WHOOO!

 

SMACK!

 

WHOOO!

 

SMACK!

 

WHOOO!

 

Van Siclen smiles, backing up a few feet and then charging in, springboarding off of the second rope and turning in midair, catching Kami with a spinning boot to the face! Kaze falls out of the ropes, landing on his back, and seeing a golden opportunity, Mike climbs the ropes!

 

(Axis) – “Mike with the nice combination in the corner, and now he’s scaling the ropes!”

 

(King) – “That’s two more times than he usually does it already in this match, and his arsenal from there is pretty high for a big man. What move will he pull out?”

 

Mike answers the question, turning around and facing Kamikaze, face-down mid-ring, and leaps off, legs spread apart, his right leg on a collision course with the back of Kami’s neck as the crowd… ROARS! Mike connects, and Kami grabs his neck in the HUGEST PAIN IN THE HISTORY OF PAIN. Van Siclen smiles, taking the opportunity to put Kamikaze into a Dragon sleeper! Kamikaze struggles against it, the sleeper putting even more pressure on his neck!

 

(Axis) – “Mike doing an excellent job of targeting Kamikaze’s neck here, with that Guillotine Legdrop and now the Dragon sleeper!”

 

(King) – “He must’ve been watching his Suicide King tapes again!”

 

Kami reaches out with his hand, really close to the ropes as Mike just jumped off of them to hit him. Now, Kamikaze reaches out with his arm, trying to grab ahold of the ropes against the pressure that Mike is putting on his neck. Kami reaches out… no, Mike kicks his hand away! Kami reaches again… no, he’s too far away! With one last breath, he puts all of his might into grabbing the ropes…

 

AND DOES! The crowd roars as referee Soapdish begins the count.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“FIV-!” Mike breaks the hold off, slightly angry that his offense didn’t take more out of Kamikaze as he lifts the krazy one to his feet.

 

(Axis) – “Van Siclen tries to make Kamikaze tap out with the Dragon sleeper, but Kaze JUST manages to get to the ropes in time!”

 

(King) – “As I said earlier, Axis, Mike can dominate this match whenever he wants to, and he just proved that.”

 

Van Siclen whips Kamikaze into the ropes, looking for a clothesline (again, targeting the neck), but Kami ducks! Mike turns around, ducking as he looks for the Van Slaminator… but Kamikaze kicks him in the jaw! Mike stumbles back a few feet, and Kamikaze backs up, bouncing off the ropes and straight at Van Siclen! He dashes past the bigger man, but grabs him by the neck and sits out on the way back with a hard running neckbreaker! Kami grabs his neck – the impact of the neckbreaker jarred his neck a bit – but regardless makes the cover!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THR- NO!” Kickout by Van Siclen, and a somewhat ticked Kamikaze lifts the Amazin’ one to his feet.

 

(Axis) – “Kamikaze with a flurry of offense there, and he nearly gets the three count off of that swank-looking neckbreaker!”

 

(King) – “But, Axis, just like you and the term swank, Kamikaze will never dominate Mike again.”

 

(Axis) – “Really? He’s doing a swank job of it right now.”

 

King does the silent burn as Kami grabs Mike mid-ring, putting the blonde’s hair into a facelock and raising one arm, signaling for the DDT… but suddenly Kami’s leg is cut out from underneath him by a quick chop by MVS! Kami lets go of the hold, hopping on one foot for just long enough for Mike to plant Kami with a quick backdrop! Mike floats over into a cover out of instinct, but remembers the match stips suddenly. He grabs Kami by the hair, splitting his legs and sending them across Kamikaze’s neck with a legscissor choke, the move Mistress Sarah used to use known as the Torture Chamber (although, I’m sure it was much better with a woman’s legs… I mean, that ass so close to your face… sorry, mind in the gutter)!

 

(Axis) – “Mike reverses the DDT, and has Kamikaze locked in the Torture Chamber!”

 

(King) – “You know, I’ve gotten put in that move once or twice, but it was always in the bedroom, and it was always with a woman. However, Mike will do anything to win tonight, and this is a very painful move!”

 

Kamikaze can hear the roar of the crowd behind him, and he’s about a foot away from being within arm’s reach of the ropes. He reaches… but Mike lifts his leg and slashes it across Kami’s neck! Kaze screams, his hand involuntarily tapping the mat once and prompting Soapdish to ask if he submits, to which Kaze screams emphatically “NO FUCKING WAY!” The crowd pops as Kamikaze angrily reaches for the ropes… but just misses! He kicks with his feet at the mat, frustrated, but decides to give it one last effort. He pushes himself over with his legs, and reaches out for the ropes… YES HE DOES IT! The crowd roars as Soapdish again makes the count.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“FIV-uh-uh.” Mike releases the hold, a nasty looking snarl on his face as the ref goes after him to NOT KEEP THE HOLD ON WHEN THE OPPONENT REACHES THE ROPES. Near the ropes, Kamikaze is just getting his balance… but on the outside is Katelyn, who is on the ring apron! She dashes over to where Kamikaze stands, head hanging over the ropes as he tries to catch a breather… and Mike’s valet catches Kaze with a rope jawbreaker! Kami yells involuntary, grabbing his neck in pain as the ref turns to face him… and Kamikaze turns right into a sitout jawbreaker! He backs up near the ropes… and smartly decides to take a powder, going over the ropes to the outside!

 

(Axis) – “Kamikaze nearly taps to the Torture Chamber, and then that BITCH Katelyn gives Kamikaze a rope jawbreaker… and turns right into a sitout jawbreaker from Mike!”

 

(King) – “Axis, you’re neglecting how Kami TOOK A POWDER! He BAILED! Count his ass OUT, ref!”

 

(Axis) – “King, if Kamikaze is counted out there’s no number one contender.”

 

(King) – “Oh yeah… beat his ASS BACK INTO THE RING, MIKE!”

 

Mike chases Kamikaze to the outside as Soapdish begins to make the count… ONE! Mike charges after Kamikaze, catching the krazy one and catching him with a hard lariat across the neck as the count hits two! Mike lifts Kamikaze to his feet, putting him into a facelock as the crowd gives him a mixed reaction, the Amazin’ one lifting his arm and looking for another neck-targeting move!

 

(Axis) – “Mike and Kamikaze on the outside, and Mike again has the advantage!”

 

(King) – “Mike has dominated this whole match, Axis… you should be expecting a victory. You should’ve won that rock-paper-scissors match, hoo daddy.”

 

(Axis) – “King, you’re ridiculously annoying.”

 

(King) – “Nobody asked you, Axis.”

 

Van Siclen looks for the Code Red… but Kami elbows him in the kidneys! Mike lets go of the hold, and Kami dances to the side and SIDEKICKS MIKE IN THE HEAD! The count hits five (I skipped four, sue me), and Kamikaze grabs Mike, picking him up and rolling him into the ring and looking to follow again… but Katelyn stops him! Kamikaze looks at her in anger… but ignores her and slides in regardless! Katelyn fumes as Mike stumbles to his feet in the ring…

 

(Axis) – “NICE SIDEKICK BY KAMI! He’s got the advantage RIGHT HERE!”

 

(King) – “He won’t hold it, Mike’s going to take him out RIGHT HERE!”

 

Kaze is FLYING ON ADRENALIN right now, the neck work not affecting him as he grabs Mike, wrapping the Amazin’ one’s arm around his neck and cradling the leg, lifting Mike overhead and dropping him back-first to the mat with a release Northern Lights suplex! The crowd explodes as Kamikaze takes out his Japanese headband, the crowd roaring all the way as though they’ve seen Santa on his sleigh!

 

(Axis) – “HE’S GOT THE HEADBAND~!”

 

(King) – “Don’t mean jack, Axis. His finisher is a headbutt. Mike has been working the neck. Get the point?”

 

Kamikaze puts the Japanese headband on his head, and the crowd goes wild as Kamikaze grabs his neck, moving it a bit and cringing in pain as he charges to the turnbuckle, running up it and leaping backwards off! He turns in midair, his head looking straight at Mike Van Siclen’s chest as he falls to the mat, his target in clear sight… and he connects with the Kamikaze! But as he rolls off, he grabs his neck, forgetting about making the pinfall as he screams in pain from the pressure just put on his neck! After a solid ten seconds of selling, Kaze seems to remember the fall, and with a grimace on his face makes the cover on Van Siclen!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE – what?” Referee Mike Soapdish looks outside the ring at Katelyn, who is pointing to Mike’s foot, which is on the bottom rope! The crowd erupts in boos as Kamikaze stares at the ref with a you-better-be-fucking-kidding look, shock in his eyes as he grabs his neck in pain once again and Mike slowly gets to his feet, using the ropes to balance himself.

 

(Axis) – “THAT JEZEBEL PUT HIS FOOT ON THE ROPES! KAMIKAZE SHOULD BE FACING JUDGE MENTAL ON CRIMSON!”

 

(King) – “You know what they say, Axis – if the ref don’t see it, it never happened.”

 

(Axis) – “But that’s not fair, King!”

 

(King) – “Them’s the breaks.”

 

Kamikaze grabs Mike, all of his pain suddenly rushing back to his neck as he grabs Mike, lifting the Amazin’ one to his feet. Kamikaze whips Mike into the ropes, looking for a clothesline, but Mike ducks it! He grabs Kamikaze’s arm and wraps it around his neck, putting him into a standing Crossface, and then sits out with a Crossface Halo! Kami hits the mat so hard he bounces over onto his stomach, and quick as a cat Mike is on him in camel clutch position… and puts Kamikaze into a crossface to complete the Clutch Amazico! Kamikaze’s neck, throbbing from the pressure it has been put through by Mike, can barely hold up, and his mistake in bringing Mike into the middle of the ring to whip him is now apparent as Kami is far from the ropes! He tries hard to reach the ropes… but Mike has the hold on too tight!

 

(Axis) – “Mike with the Crossface Halo into the Clutch Amazico, but Kamikaze absolutely refuses to tap out!”

 

(King) – “He’s going to have to, Axis! Mike is just too good, and he’s been doing this for too long, and he’s been doing everything he can to Kamikaze’s neck! Kamikaze will HAVE to tap out to the pain eventually!”

 

(Axis) – “He won’t, King, I know he won’t!”

 

Kamikaze stares out at the crowd, his face twisted into a mask of pain as the crowd has finally decided who they are rooting for.

 

“KA-MI-KA-ZE!”

 

“KA-MI-KA-ZE!”

 

“KA-MI-KA-ZE!”

 

Kaze hears this and it fuels his fire, and he pushes hard with his feet to try to get to the ropes! He reaches… but his neck throbs in pain! He can barely feel it, the adrenalin is high… and he reaches again, so close!… but his adrenalin is starting to wear off… it’s all over for him now… with one last reach, he grabs for the ropes…

 

…

 

(Axis) – “He’s gonna get the ropes!”

 

…

 

(King) – “No he’s not!”

 

…

 

Kamikaze misses the ropes, and as his hand falls he taps the mat as though his hand was on fire.

 

-=:Ding Ding Ding:=-

 

(Funyon) – “Your winner, via submission, and the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER TO THE SJL HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE, MIIIIIIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIIIC-LEEEEEEN!”

 

Mike Soapdish taps his fellow Mike on the shoulder, and the Amazin’ one realizes that he is the number one contender, and the crowd that had booed him just seconds ago is cheering him… at the end of the day, he’s still Mike Van Siclen, and he’s their only hope to dethrone Judge Mental. Van Siclen raises both arms high, the crowd roaring as we do as always…

 

…fade…

[Guest Suicide King]

“………. HEY! …………. HEY!........”

 

The crowd finishes up a round of the Hey song as the camera come back to SJL Crimson in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania! The fans nearly blow the top off the completely full Melon Arena as they anticipate the upcoming main event. The camera looks around the arena spotting a band of red wig wearing guys sporting all green. One of them holds up a sign saying “Fightin’ Irish” With a picture of Tim Dillon in a boxing stance. A quick pan over reveals a few King of the World signs, as well as one all black with white lettering sign saying “The few…. The Proud…. The Deranged…. sWo”. We go down to the floor where we see the fairly dynamic duo of the announcing world getting ready for the upcoming match. Axis gives a quick smile at the camera and begins to speak.

 

“Welcome back to another great edition of SJL Crimson! Tonight we’ve had an incredible show, with the wild animal Logan facing off against good ole’ Ejiro Fasaki with only a five minute time limit! It certainly turned out to be an incredible match. Next up was the disturbed technical acumen of Manson going against the death-defying risk taker style of Wildchild. A great match, and an excellent set up to-” But King interrupts his incredibly long review of the show.

 

“Blah blah blah. God, can’t you do a quick run through? Look, we had Christian Fury and Johnny Dangerous in a tables match that was worse than G0R0 vs. NTD part 3, then Spike vs. Jack the Ripper, which was duller than watching the View. After that was the craptastic match Mike Van Siclen versus Kamikaze with the SUPER MORONIC STIPS OF DOOM~! And now we are at the main event. Jesus, we haven’t had a show this bad since that punishment one back in May.” Both men give a shudder at the mention of that one, then Axis goes on.

 

“Well, tonight’s Main Event looks to be a really barn burner, with perhaps the three of the fastest rising talents in the fed all going at it. No titles on the line tonight, though, just bragging rights. We have our current World Champ, Judge Mental, coming into the match with a near perfect record. Our current Euro Champ, Tim Dillon, is also fighting after his hard fought win Sunday night against Leon Sharpe and Jack the Ripper. Rounding out this trio of talent is Matt Myers, now sole leader of the sWo. He beat Logan in one amazing No DQ match Sunday, and was able to match the unstoppable madman submit to the Dragon’s Fang.”

 

“Eh, only talent in there tonight is Matt and the Judge. Tim is just a scrawny little bastard who stole the title from Leon. Matt beat Mak Francis for Pete’s sake. MAK FRANCIS! And the Judge…. Well, look at his record. It’s between those two, and I’m leaning toward the Judge, since he’s the World Champ now.” King finishes his comments as bag pipes begin to faintly flow into the arena.

 

“Face down in the gutter, won’t admit defeat… those clothes are soiled and black!”

 

The crowd goes off into a frenzy of cheers as shamrock confetti comes down from the rafters in a green hurricane, and then the pyros light off.

 

BOOM!

 

Orange pyros light off from both sides.

 

BOOM!

 

Green pyros shoot off from both sides as well, and a man appears on stage.

 

“Weighing in at 168 pounds and hailing from Limerick, Ireland….. a true Fighting Irishman and your European CHAMPION….. Tim DILLON!!”

 

Tim walks out with a green “Dropkick Murphy’s” t-shirt and the big European Champion belt strapped around his waist, looking far too big for the skinny man. The arena cheers like made as their own lovable four leaf clubber comes out and down the ramp, acknowledging the fans with a smile and a wave. He jumps and slides into the ring as the lights go out, and a few of the faithful in the crowd begin to cheer for the upcoming challenger. The lights stay out for a few seconds, until….

 

BOOOM!!

 

A massive purple pyro shoots straight out of the middle of the stage, and multicolored strobes begin flaring off, transforming the arena into a surreal scene of multi-colored light and brief darkness. “Rise” by The Cult begins to flow into the arena and smoke begins to cover the stage as boos begin to come out of the crowd. A moderately sized silhouette appears through the smoke and flashing, and out steps….

 

“Weighing in at 229 pounds and hailing from New Haven, Connecticut……. Your personal Poisyn and leader of the sWo…… Matt MYERS!!”

 

Myers walks out, wearing a black trenchcoat and black sunglasses. He gives a smile to the crowd, and outstretches his arms as if to soak in the boos. He walks down the ramp, throwing his sunglasses off into the crowd and slides into the ring. He goes to one of the turnbuckles and walks up it, stretching his arms out once more and receiving an even more heated reaction from the crowd. He turns around and takes a seat on the turnbuckle, taking off his coat and hunching over like a gargoyle, thinking about the match at hand. The lights dim to a harsh red, and the crowd begins to jeer at the next man’s entrance.

 

“NOW TESTIFY!”

 

Flaming pyros shoot out from the stage as Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify” starts up in mid song. The SmarkTron shows highlights of the man’s illustrious career in small, 5 second clips. The pyros die down, and out steps Judge Mental, decked out in his usual black robes and the World Title belt over his right shoulder. He walks down to the ring, unaffected by the hatred poured onto him by the crowd .

 

“Weighing in at 266 pounds and hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan……. Judge, jury, and executioner….. the SJL World CHAMPION…… Judge MENTAL!!”

 

Mental gets to the ring and slowly climbs in, stepping over to his corner and taking off his robes. He sets the black robes and his title belt on the steel steps, and does a couple stretches as Funyon does the pre-match briefing.

 

“This match a triple threat set for one fall. All countouts and disqualifications are in effect for this match.”

 

The ref looks at each man in their respective corners, and signals for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“And the match is on!” Axis says, giving play by play. “Out comes Myers….. but oh! He doesn’t get far as Tim Dillon blindsides him with a hard right hook!”

 

Myers stumbles, nearly falling down, but manages to stay on his feet. Tim goes right out after Myers, giving him another right hook, a left, then a right, then a….. nothing, as Mental comes in from behind with a clothesline! Dillon hits the ground hard as Mental stands over top of the thin Irishman. The Judge begins to pick him up, but catches a spinning heel kick right to the head from Matt Myers, and Mental is sent reeling back into the ropes. He support, but Myers follows right up and gives him a running dropkick that flips him out of the ring!

 

“Wow, after getting caught off guard by Tim Dillon, Myers comes right back in and kicks Mental right out of the ring. It looks like Mental is still suffering a little from that minor concussion he received from Spike Jenkins in the Three out of Five Falls Match.”

 

The ref runs over to make the countout as Myers bends at the knees and gets ready to…..

 

ONE

 

Do nothing, as Tim Dillon hooks his arm around Myers’ neck and pulls him back for a reverse DDT!

 

TWO

 

The Judge begins to get up, very slowly with his head bobbing around slowly. He shakes his head for a moment, and regains a little of his composure and begins getting up…

 

THREE

 

Tim brings Matt back up to his feet and gives him a stiff right punch. Myers goes back and Tim follows up with another punch, but Myers grabs it right out of the air, and pulls Tim into a stiff knee!

 

FOUR

 

Tim doubles over, and Matt puts Tim’s head under his arm. He underhooks Dillon’s arms and jumps back, sending the Irishman’s face right into the mat.

 

FIVE

 

Mental begins to slide into the ring as Axis shouts “Double Arm DDT! That’s gotta hurt for Dillon!” and King replies.

 

“Yeah, probably broke him in half. And he’s in for a whole new world of pain, cause Mental just reentered the ring!”

 

Mental gets ready as Myers looks at him, and both take up a stance: Mental in the traditional grappler and Myers in a marital artist style. They begins to get closer, and glare at each other, until Mental makes a quick dash and gives Myers a backhand across the face. Matt goes backwards a little, and Mental presses forward. He grabs Myers, picking him up for a Suplex, but as Matt gets vertical he squirms out of Mental’s grip and flips right out of the thing behind the Judge! Myers pivots on his left foot and brings his right foot around in a second, hitting the Judge right in the back of the head.

 

“Superkick, and it looks like Myers is concentrating on the head.” Axis notes as King gives a nice smile.

 

“Of course he is, Axis. Matt isn’t a moron, like that dumb Irish twig. He sees Mental’s weakness and is going straight for it.”

 

As Mental stumbles away, trying to regain some of his balance, Myers runs at the ropes, bouncing off……. And runs right into a Tim Dillon Dropkick! He hits the ground hard, and Dillon immediately goes after him on the ground, mounting him and giving him a flurry of punches to the face! A right, a left, a right, a right, a left, the punches are coming in so fast that Myers can’t even tell where they are coming from. Tim pulls his arm back for a haymaker, but out of nowhere, a hand grabs his wrist and pulls him to his feet. It’s Mental, and he quickly pulls the arm behind Dillon’s back in a hammerlock. Tim tries to power out of it, but to no avail as Mental has both the strength and leverage to keep it on all day. The Judge grabs Tim’s body with his free arm, lifting him up onto his shoulder and dropping him back for a Hammerlock Suplex!

 

“Hammerlock Suplex! Wow, it’s been a while seen we’ve seen one of those, hasn’t it King?”

 

“Yeah. I think we color T.V. now, right?”

 

Mental gets up, but can’t do anything as Myers comes up from behind with a big kick to the head! Myers doesn’t look on top of his game, breathing a little heavy, but doesn’t look all too tired as he grabs Mental’s wrist and throws him at the ropes! Mental goes, bouncing off and Myers jumps right onto his shoulders! He pulls back fast, and Mental flips over, and both men end up on the ground, with Mental’s back and shoulders pinned up against the mat. Myers grabs both of the legs and pulls down as the referee goes for the count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TNO! Tim Dillon breaks up the count with a stiff punch the temple of the insane leader of the sWo.

 

“A near fall, but Dillon is there to break up the count.”

 

“How can he still be standing?! He’s so light and thin you’d think a breeze would have blown him out of the ring by now!”

 

Dillon gives him another stiff left, and tries to give Matt a quick kick to the knee, but Myers catches it and spins to the ground, twisting Tim around and slamming him into the mat with a Dragon Screw takedown. Matt rolls right over and turns Tim over, and puts him arm right around Dillon’s neck. He begins to try and lock Tim’s legs with his own, but Irishman kicks about, not letting Myers get a chance at fully locking in the submission.

 

“He’s going for the Dragon’s Fang! Tim is resisting, but if he locks that thing in, it could be over real quick! That thing made Logan tap out!”

 

“Hell yes it will be over real quick! Come on, Matt win one for the good ole sWo!”

 

Matt locks one of the legs around his own, but can’t quite get the other when…..

 

CRASH!

 

Mental comes down on the with a top rope plancha!

 

“Did you even see him go up to the turnbuckle? Wow, that’s definitely out of style for him.” Says a bewildered Axis. “But it breaks up the submission, and it hit both men at the same time. Good tactical choice by the Judge there.”

 

The Judge rolls away, shaking his head a little and rubbing his temple with his right hand. The effects of the concussion are still there, even if they are far less severe than in the last match. He gets to his feet, and grabs Myers up first. Myers groggily gets up, a little out of it after being hit with the last move, and Mental gives him a swift punch to the stomach. Myers doubles over, and the Judge executes a standing head scissors on the leader of the sWo, grabbing his arms and pulling them into straight-jacket position.

 

“CAPITAL PUNISHMENT! CAPITAL PUNISHMENT! He hasn’t done this one since his dark match!”

 

Mental lifts Myers up onto his shoulders, and Matt struggles weakly, trying to get out of the iron grip of the Judge. In one quick moment, the Judge sits out, bringing both him and Myers down to the ground in a Straight Jacket Power Bomb. He stay on him for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

“Is it really over this quickly? Is he really this unbeatable?” Axis asks.

 

TWO!

 

“Hell yes,” says King. “That’s why he’s our World Champion.”

 

THRE-NO! Dillon pulls Mental right off of Myers, and begins swinging!

 

“Dillon is up, and boy is he working over Mental! Right hook, left hook, right jab, right jab, left hook…. He’s beating the World Champ around like a rag doll!”

 

“Stop him, ref, stop him! Mental’s a wounded man! That psycho little leprechaun can’t hit him in the head like that!”

 

Unrelenting, Dillon keeps it up, and lets up for a moment to do a little jig! The crowd roars approval as Mental weakly tries to swing back, misses by a mile without Tim even trying to dodge! Tim begins to dance behind him, giving Mental a quick punch to the back of the head, causing Mental to stumble forward into the ground and the crowd to go absolutely off the wall!

 

“What an effort by the Irishman! He’s knocked down both of these competitors simply with his punches, taken some of the worst punishment of the match, and still looks unaffected!”

 

Dillon goes over to Mental and picks him up. He goes behind the demented judge, hooking his arm across the Judge’s neck, and giving a big smile across his freckled face. He grabs a fist full of Mental’s tights, and brings him up into the air, planting his head right into the ground. The crowd is on their feet as Tim goes for the pin.

 

“BLOOD AND WHISKEY! BLOOD AND WHISKEY! NO WAY MENTAL IS GETTING UP FROM THAT ONE!” Axis cries as King jumps out of his chair.

 

“KICK OUT MENTAL, GODDAMNIT! DON’T LOSE TO THIS FOUR LEAF MORON!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

T

H

R

E

EEEEEEEEEEENO! Myers comes in from behind and throws him off, making the pin for himself!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

T

H

R

E

EEEEENO! Mental barely gets a shoulder up!

 

“Two close falls, and this match is really heating up! I don’t think that Mental can hang on much longer here.”

 

Myers begins to make the pin again, but Tim denies him the chance, pulling him up and giving him a quick punch to the stomach. Dillon throws another, but Myers barely ducks it in time, and drops down for a sweep kick to put the Irishman right on his back! Matt begins to go after the downed Dillon with stomps, but is stopped by two arms wrapping around his waist. Judge Mental pulls back with incredible force, bringing Matt around in a lightning fast motion to the ring with a big German Suplex! He bridges it for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREENO! Myers kicks out!

 

“Near fall by Judge Mental, but Matt Myers finds the strength to kick out!”

 

Mental releases the hold, and tries to roll away, but gets caught by Tim Dillon, who gives him a quick DDT to the ground. Dillon slowly brings the big man to his feet, and drops him down again in another DDT! He begins to get up for another, but Matt Myers nails him from behind with a spinning heel kick. Dillon stumbles away, and Myers follows up, jumping and grabbing Tim’s neck in midair. He spins around and locks in a front face lock, bringing the plucky Irishman down with a spectacular Tornado DDT!

 

“Yeah, Dillon, try that one on for size!” King quips as Myers begins to get up, bringing Dillon up with him.

 

Myers stands Dillon up, and begins to lift him up onto his shoulders in Death Valley Driver position. He gives a twisted smile to the crowd as he begins to shift Dillon, but Tim slides off of Matt’s shoulders and grabs the head of the demented leader of the sWo, cracking his neck right down on his shoulder. The crowd goes wild as Dillon shakily gets to his feet for the pin.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREENO!!! Mental has gotten up and stomps Dillon right off of Matt.

 

“Incredible reversal by Dillon! His never-say-die attitude carried him to the Euro title, and it could win him this match!”

 

“Shut up, Axis! Stupid colonials. Mental is up, and there is no way he’s gonna let a little paper shamrock like Tim Dillon get the best of him.”

 

Mental immediately gives Dillon a hard kick to the back, and brings the thin man to his feet. He puts his right arm through Dillon’s armpit, and locks in a half nelson in while reaching around and pulling the arm across his Tim’s face with his free hand. He locks his hands together and Dillon struggles as Mental continues the deadly sleeper hold.

 

“COBRA CLUTCH! COBRA CLUTCH! He may choke Dillon unconscious!”

 

“Hell yeah! Show him how we wrestle in the U.S. of A!”

 

“I never knew you were a patriot, King.”

 

“When it allows me to hurt other people without repercussion, I’m whatever you want to call it.”

 

Tim wiggles and struggles around, but he can’t break the grip of the much stronger Judge Mental. He begins to fade…… fade….

 

Until Matt Myers comes from behind to break the hold! He gives a stiff shotei to the back of Mental, forcing him to break the hold and drop the near choked out Irishman onto the ground, gasping for breath. He locks his arm around the Judge’s neck and sweeps back, slamming Mental’s head into the ring mat. He locks his legs around the Judge’s, and completes the deadly submission move!

 

“DRAGON FANG! DRAGON FANG! DRAGON FANG!”

 

Mental’s free arm grasps frantically, looking for the nearby ropes. He reaches as far as he can, trying to reach the thing that could free him, unable to move any further due to Myers’ legs. He making one last try for the ropes……..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AND MISSES!

 

Myers tightens the hold further as the Judge continues hopelessly reaching for the ropes. Finally he begins to raise his arm and…..

 

Dillon kicks Myers right in the head, forcing him to release the hold! Mental rolls away, out of the ring for a moment to catch his breath as a tired Tim Dillon begins to pick up Myers and pound away.

 

ONE

 

The Judge grabs his neck as Tim continues to shower Myers with punches. Left hook, right hook, left hook, right hook, he knocks him across the ring and everywhere in between with the fury only a ticked man of the Isles could brandish.

 

TWO

 

Finally, he winds up big, and uppercuts…… air, as Myers manages to somehow dodge the punch after the beating he’s taken. He quickly grabs Tim’s head and drops to his back, cracking his neck with a vicious Diamond Cutter!

 

THREE

 

“Myers hits the Memory, and what a brawl we have here! Dillon refuses to stay down while Matt Myers is pulling surprise moves out of nowhere to floor his opponents. And the Judge has been temporarily incapacitated after he nearly won the match with a deadly Cobra Clutch.”

 

FOUR

 

Mental slowly begins to get up, still out of breath, and begins to compose himself. Meanwhile, Myers looks at the downed Tim and instinctively runs at the turnbuckle….

 

FIVE

 

He runs right up the turnbuckle and leaps back in a huge, graceful arc. He corkscrew in mid air, causing hundreds of cameras in the Melon to light off in a flashy show, and comes back down…..

 

SIX

 

RIGHT ON TOP OF DILLON! The crowd gives a pop for the sheer incredibility of the move, then goes right back to booing as Myers rolls off…

 

SEVEN

 

“Revolution, and from across the ring no less!” Axis says breathlessly as King nods his approval.

 

“Very hard move to top right there. I think I’m the only one who could really do it.” He brags as Myers hooks the leg and the ref dives to make the count.

 

 

ONE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

T

H

R

E

E

E

E

EEEEEEEEEEEENOOO!!!!!! MENTAL MAKES A DESPERATE DIVE, PUSHING MYERS OFF AND BREAKING UP THE PIN!!

 

“The determination by all these men is amazing! I’m surprised any of them are still standing.”

 

Mental rolls away and stands up, a little woozy from the submission by Myers. Myers also gets up, and charges at Mental with a quick chop… that Mental catches! He holds onto Myers, pulling him belly to belly and grabbing him around the waist. The Judge jumps to his side and lands a belly to belly suplex! While Myers is still down, he takes the legs of the sWo leader and bend them into a four around his own leg. He grabs Myers’ free leg and falls back, causing Matt to yell in pain as Mental torques his knee.

 

“Mental locks in the Figure Four Leglock, but he hasn’t had time to work over Myers’ knee with Tim Dillon in his face the whole time.”

 

True to Axis’ words, Myers begins to crawl towards the ropes with some relative struggle, and grabs onto the bottom one as the ref begins the five count.

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

The ref forces Mental to break the hold, and the Judge pulls his legs out of the tangled mess and begins to get up….

 

Into a spear from Dillon! Dillon falls to the ground holding his chest a little, and gets back up as the Judge stumbles backward and falls onto his BUTT. Dillon, mumbling something in Gaelic, somehow powers himself up after all the punishment and runs at Mental. He jumps and dives at him, catching Mental with a flying clothesline that slams the back of his head into the mat.

 

“DAMNIT!” King yells as Dillon slowly gets up off the ground. “Someone call INS, cause this guy can’t have a green card. They don’t give them out to freaks like them, do they Axis?”

 

Axis rolls his eyes at King while Dillon struggles to stand on his feet; he’s taken the most punishment out of all the men, and he’s pushed his body to the limits. But no rest for the weary, as Matt Myers comes in from behind and picks him up straight over his head. He presses the weary man once… twice…. three times before dropping him right to the ground on his back.

 

“There’s something you don’t see too often: Matt Myers Gorilla pressing someone, rather than Matt Myers getting Gorilla pressed.”

 

Myers goes over to Tim panting hard, since he usually doesn’t work matches that are this long or this brutal. He picks Tim up, and gives the same twisted smile as before (though much weaker this time) and puts him on his back into Death Valley Driver position. He makes sure that he has a good grip on Tim, and slides Dillon around so that he is right in position for a…….

 

THUD!

 

Tombstone Piledriver!

 

“A picture perfect Death Myers Driver!” Yells a gleeful King as Myers rolls away, breathing hard on the ground. He looks back and rolls over to the barely moving Tim again, and tries to make a pin.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

T

H

R

E

E

E

E

E

EEEEEEEEEEEEENO! MENTAL KICKS HIM OFF!

 

“Mental broke up the pin! I can’t believe it! I don’t know if these men can survive anymore punishment!”

 

Mental slowly gets up, pulling Myers to his feet, and gives him a big backhanded chop across the chest. Matt stumbles backward, and the Judge gives another one, this one more powerful than the last. The sWo leader goes back into the ropes, and the World Champion runs at him, clotheslining him out of the ring and onto the floor with Myers landing on his head! Mental looks down at him while he pants hard.

 

ONE

 

Myers tries to push off the ground, but fails and goes back down to the mat. Mental, on the otherhand, begins to make his way to Tim Dillon, who is struggling to sit up.

 

TWO

 

Mental makes it over to Dillon slowly, and Dillon tries to throw an uppercut, refusing to go down without a fight.

 

THREE

 

Mental just barely gets out of the way, and grabs the arm. He pulls Tim into his knee, causing him to go down on his knees, but Mental picks him up a little to get a standing headscissors.

 

FOUR

 

The ref continues to count as Matt begins to get to his knee, but falls backwards onto the mat. In the ring, Mental grabs Dillon’s arms and puts them into straight jacket position.

 

FIVE

 

In one mighty heave ho, Mental brings the Irishman up to his shoulder. Tim weakly struggles, but just can’t get loose while Matt brings himself up to sitting position.

 

SIX

 

SLAM!!!!!!!!

 

Mental brings Tim down in the sitout Straight Jacket Power Bomb. The ref stops counting Matt and rushes to the pin to end the match.

 

 

 

ONE!!

 

The crowd boos big time as King shoots out of his chair with his arms straight up in the air.

 

”YES! IT’S OVER! YOU’LL BE SUCKING YOUR GUINNESS THROUGH A TUBE NOW, SUCKER!”

 

TWO!

 

Matt Myers reaches up to the ropes, and begins to pull himself into the ring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

T

H

R

E

E

E

E

E

E

E

E

E

EEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

 

“NOW TESTIFY!”

 

Myers pulls himself into the ring just as the bell rings, and lays on the ground. He shakes his head back and forth with his eyes closed as Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify” plays, as if trying to blot out the song and the result of the match. The Judge releases the pin, falls back, and gives out a big sigh. He slowly begins to roll away as a couple EMTs come in with a stretcher for Tim. They reach the Irishman, beginning to roll him over, but the man pulls away from them, slowly but surely getting up on his own as the crowd cheers for his great effort. He stands himself up at one of the turnbuckles, looking away from the Judge. Mental hobbles up the entrance ramp, and looks back for a moment at Dillon, who gives a weak wave to the crowd, and at Myers, who is now getting up and getting his coat. For a moment, he studies them, then looks away and walks out with his robes and his title.

 

“A fantastic match from all three wrestlers, but there could only be one winner.” Axis says, and King interrupts him.

 

“Yeah, Judge Mental! To bad for Matt, but I’m just glad that the pansy ass Irish guy learned how to stay down.” Axis gives an angry stare, offended at King’s comment about the big-hearted Tim, but goes on to finish up.

 

“Well, it’s certainly been a great night for wrestling, and hopefully we’ll see some more on Metal next week.” King waves his finger and corrects Axis.

 

“No, silly Australian fool, SJL Mental. Get it right.”

 

Axis shakes his head and finishes up. “For the Suicide King and the whole SJL staff, this is Axis saying goodnight!”

 

Fade to Commercial……

[Guest Suicide King]

No promos? A few too many default wins, but other than that a decent show. Card is forthcoming.

 

 

5 MINUTE MATCH

Logan vs. Ejiro Fasaki

- The Japanese Hacksaw wins, but Logan turns him into sushi after the match@

 

SINGLES MATCH

Manson vs. Wildchild

- Mr. and Mrs. Wild's chlid shows some sadism and whups Manson.

 

 

TABLES MATCH

Christian Fury vs. Johnny Dangerous

- Fury beats Danger. But scissors cuts Fury! Sadly, Danger smashes scissors. What?

 

 

SINGLES MATCH

Spike Jenkins vs. Jack The Ripper

- This has got to be a sign of the Apocalypse. Jack wins. One could say he was a threat now.

 

 

WORLD TITLE #1 CONTENDERSHIP MATCH

Kamikaze v. Mike Van Siclen

- MVS breaks the Divine Wind.

 

 

MAIN EVENT

TRIPLE THREAT MATCH

Judge Mental vs. Tim Dillon vs. Matt Myers

- In an absolute squeaker, Judge wins by TWO points.