SJL Wrath, February 9th, 2003!

February 10, 2003

The arena is buzzing with the sound of the crowd, as they settle into their seats at the Sydney Opera House. Suddenly, the lights dim, and a single spotlight falls onto Funyon. A hush evelops the crowd, as he prepares to follow in the fine tradition of the Opera House...

"Ladies and gentlemen! Here to sing the NATIONAL ANTHEM... Now rapping 'Basketball'... Number 1... Kurtis Blow--erm, FUNYON!"

"Basketball is my favorite sport

I like the way they dribble up and down the court

Just like I'm the King on the microphone so is Dr. J and Moses Malone

I like Slam dunks take me to the hoop

My favorite play is the alley oop

I like the pick-and-roll, I like the give-and-go,

Cause it's Basketball, uh, Mister Kurtis Blow,

They're playing Basketball

We love that Basketball

They're playing Basketball

We love that Basketball

I used to go to dinner, and then take the girl,

To see Tiny play against Earl The Pearl,

And Wilt, Big O, and Jerry West,

To play Basketball at it's very best,

Basketball has always been my thing,

I like Magic, Bird, and Bernard King,

And number 33, my man Kareem,

Is the center on my starting team,

(To the hoop, ya'll, Watch out, Watch out

In yo' face, now here comes the rest)

Clyde, Rick Barry, and Pistol Pete,

Now these players, could never be beat,

Isiah, and Iceman too,

Just give 'em the ball, and then you talk up too,

Dantley and Wilkins are on the scene,

And Ralph Sampson is really mean,

Bill Russell didn't take no junk,

and Darryl Dawkins got a monster dunk,

Tell me, were you in the joint?,

The night Wilt scored 100 points,

Or when Celtics won titles back-to-back,

And didn't give nobody, no kind of slack,

Or when Dr. J shook the whole damn team,

With moves that came right out of a dream,

Or when, Willis Reed stood so tall,

Playing D with desire, it's Basketball,

They're playing Basketball

We love that Basketball

They're playing Basketball

We love that Basketball"

The give an uproarus cheer and applause for that stirring rendition of "Basketball", as we fade to the card...

February 10, 2003

Card:

OPENING PROMO OF COOLOSITY

Description: Someone in the SJL has requested this promo time to kick off the show. Who is it? A vet? A n00b? Cutthroat? I guess you'll have to wait and see!

NEWBIE MATCH OF DOOM~!

Fosta vs. Tryst

Description: The two latest in our flood of SJL newbies tangle for the first time here on Wrath. Will Fosta be successful against the--er, unusual, Tryst? Will Tryst make it out of Nottingham? Will I ever get to sleep? And will I ever come up with an original joke?

Rules: Standard singles match. Regular DQ and pinfall rules apply.

EUROPEAN TITLE #1 CONTENDERSHIP

Aecas vs. Sean Atlas

Special Guest Referee: Chris Card

Description: These two looked good in their debut match on Metal. Now one of them will be on the fast track through the SJL with a chance to get the first shot at new European Champion Chris Card. Card has offered to officiate this match in an effort to scout out his competition.

Rules: Standard singles match. Regular DQ and pinfall rules apply. Chris Card will be the special guest referee. Card, you can write a match if you want to, but it isn't necessary. If you do, make sure there is a clear winner.

PUNISHMENT MATCH #1 - THE KANGAROO JACK MATCH

Dace Night vs. Matt Myers

Description: Apparent lack of communication on Metal from this team caused the crapfest that was our main event. Therefore, this is your punishment match. Note the Australian flavor in the stipulation, and good luck.

Rules: Singles match. No disqualification. Pinfalls and submissions must occur inside the ring. Both competitors must wrestle wearing oversized kangaroo costumes. If a competitor does not adhere to this rule, he will forfeit the match.

HARDCORE FILLER MATCH

Christian Blackwell vs. Omega Storm

Description: Yeah, these two have faced each other once already, but I ran out of other guys to book. Therefore, we'll up the ante a bit with the hardcore stipulation, and also throw in an Insane Eddy Mac Style Word Limit to keep things interesting.

Rules: Hardcore rules apply. No disqualification. Pinfalls and submissions can occur anywhere.

PUNISHMENT MATCH #2 - THE BALL CRAWL MATCH

Crow vs. Insane Luchador vs. Spike Jenkins

Description: This team turned in nothing for the Metal main event and will now be forced to suffer the consequences in this punishment match. Anyway, you know those little Ball Crawl areas at McDonalds playgrounds? The ones with hundreds of multicolored little plastic balls...? Good luck trying to wrestle when you're maneuvering through those.

Rules: Once all three competitors enter the ring, a ten-foot-high hard, thick clear plastic cage wall will descend over the ring, trapping the competitors inside. Then, millions of multicolored plastic balls will be released into the ring, filling to a depth of about three feet. Every five minutes after the match starts, more balls will be released from the ceiling, making it that much harder to move about in the match. The only way to win is to escape the cage with both feet touching the floor outside. The plastic wall has no handholds, but competitors can likely escape by standing on the top turnbuckle and climbing up and over.

MAIN EVENT

SJL WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH

NO-DQ, NON-INTERFERENCE

Janus vs. Mike Van Siclen

Description: With everyone else in the tournament busy trying to make up to JLCC, these two are left in the hunt for the SJL World Championship, which has been vacant since Wildchild's promotion to the SWF roster. Who will be your next World champion? Will it be Janus, making a comeback after his European title loss to Chris Card and capping off an incredible run to the top in the SJL? Or will it be Mike Van Siclen, a veteran who has come close to this point many times but has yet to achieve the big win? Find out this Sunday on Wrath!

Rules: Singles match. No disqualification. Pinfalls or submissions must occur inside the ring. No interference will be allowed in this match.

February 10, 2003

BOOM~!!

Three huge pyros explode at the top of the stage, swallowing whole the roar of the crowd as they realize that the show, SJL Wrath is about to begin. The SJL faithful scream to be heard as they jump about and wave their clever signs. Some outstanding few like: “GET WELL SOON THUGG!!”, “DURANDAL > FLESHER“, and “I <3 ANNIE!!” are allowed on camera for their brief 4 seconds of fame.

The incredible wave of sound made by the crowd causes the JL announcers to shout in order to be heard over the crowd. Axis seems to be very pleased this evening while the Suicide King is quite content to sit idly by and watch Axis make a fool out of himself. Whether the crowd’s enthusiasm is the cause for Axis’ shouting is the case or not, he certainly seems to be excited by the electricity from the masses in the jam-packed arena.

Axis: Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to SJL Wrath!! We’ve got what promises to be a super show for you tonight continuing our World Title Tournament! Oh... wait... I forgot. Since there has been too much fighting backstage, most of the competitors tonight will be fighting in humiliation matches.

King: Tonight should be interesting. Not only do we have a busload of humiliation matches to try and sit through, but we’ve also got some new guys getting ready to stink up the curtain they’re jerking so I suppose we’d better get this thing started.

Axis: Come on King, where’s your enthusiasm? You’re always so hard on the new guys. I’m sure that in our first match these two are going to try their best and give us all a barnburner!

King: The only way that this match is going to burn anything is by methane fumes. In the first match we’ve got...

The Suicide King is distracted by the sudden absence of lights in the arena. The arena is quiet but preoccupied in anticipation of the beginning of the first match, but after a few long moments of silence... nothing happens. The crowd starts to boo at the apparent mess-up of the lighting and sound crew. The fans grow restless and mock the technical difficulties until a pale visage of smoke illuminated by a blue spotlight appears on the stage. The fans suddenly settle and listen patiently as some rhythmic chanting plays over the loudspeakers. The words are unintelligible, but the hyper-active guitar part that kicks in makes the song slightly recognizable.

The chanting continues for some time, eventually growing louder with each verse. A thick bass drum rhythm begins to accompany the guitar line as a small portion of the fans pop for the recognizable tune. The rest of the crowd is left in the dark and begins to wriggle in their seats as they grow impatient with the length of this entrance, no matter what the music playing is.

King: Hell of a long entrance for a curtain jerker. And why do these entrances always have to cut me off when I’m trying to speak?

Axis: Well, we’re not quite sure what’s going on here as of yet folks. As soon as this wrestler decides to make himself known, I’m sure we’ll have more info.

Just then some slightly more intelligible lyrics blare over the speakers.

“YOU’VE BEEN...

THUNDERSTRUCK!!”

King: What the hell?

As the voice of Brain Johnson screams out through AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck”, a lightning bolt crashes to the stage and the crowd explodes in a tsunami of cheers. The song’s lyrics continue on as the fans’ excitement is well-founded. Through the thick billowing smoke on the entrance ramp (which has accumulated into a very large cloud by this time) the cause for excitement is slowly revealed. The figure of a man is now partially visible through the smoke as he takes his time walking down the ramp. His huge amount of red hair bounces ever so slowly as he walks down the entrance. His blue costume fully gives him away as the God of Thunder Thor steps out from the pea-soup thick smoke.

The crowd’s excitement doubles as they watch the huge frame of the Thunder God stop at the base of the entrance ramp and look at the crowd with a nostalgic gleam in his eye. Thor breaks his gaze and walks the extra few steps and then onto the ring apron. The big man clears the top rope with ease and walks a few more steps into the center of the ring. He looks down at his hammer Mjolnir and then back up at the crowd with a warm smile and a small tear in the inner corner of his eye. He blinks it away quickly and then moves to the ring ropes asking for a microphone.

Axis: Wow! It appears that the Thunder God Thor has returned to the SJL and what an explosive impact he has made.

King: Zuh? I thought we had gotten rid of him for good. It seems our luck ran out.

Thor grasps the mic in his massive hand and moves back to the center of the ring. He raises the mic to his face but lowers it again as the cheers of the crowd force him to allow them to die down... which takes some time. Thor then raises his hand, to simultaneously silence and greet the people. “Hail Mortals!” Thor is again bludgeoned into allowing them more time to cheer. After a moment he continues where he left off. “Aye, the God of Thunder hast returned to the Smarks Junior League. It warms my godly heart to hear the rejoicing of my most favorite of mortals. It showeth me that thou hast not forgotten me after my hiatus from wrestling.”

If anyone forgot Thor, they’re certainly being polite in cheering his return anyway. The God of Thunder begins to slowly walk along the side of the ring, his hand gliding on the top rope as he moves and speaks. “I would first like to address the reason that I had made haste in my leaving. ‘Tis true Asgard was under attack, but there were other forces drawing me home. In case thou hast not the keen intellect and knowledge of the Norse beliefs, allow me to enlighten thee. I am not a bachelor in my home. Nay, I have a wife and children three and it was partly the absence of mine offspring’s father which drew me back to Valhalla.”

The crowd is now silent, listening intently to their favorite Norse god tell them his tale. “’Twas a difficult decision, to leave, but one which must have been made. Do not doubt for a moment my love of this federation, but the love of my family and the thought of having nothing to return home to after my career in wrestling was through was a tad more important at the time. After the frost giants were driven back to Jotunheim, I stayed back to look after my family. A task, while most fulfilling, left me somehow empty inside.”

King: How long is this going to take? My ass is already sore from this friggin chair.

Axis: Now hush, King. The man... err... god is trying to speak.

Thor is silent for a moment as he stops running his hand on the rope at the last turnbuckle. He stops, looking down, then raises his head and speaks. “You see, though I am a god and seem to have anything my heart desires, there was still one thing I wished for. Something that even the splendor of Valhalla could not provide me. To the other gods, a most trivial want indeed, but to me... it means much more. More than they could ever understand.” He hangs his head low and speaks into the mic while his shaggy crimson hair falls on either side of his head.

“I made a difficult decision, one which may jeopardize everything I’ve worked for over the millennia, but one who’s possible benefits tempt me too much. I simply could not overcome my burning inner desire and have made a decision the size of Ymir.” Thor pauses and remains shockingly motionless. His voice then roars with anger, finally stating what has hurt him so much inside. “I have thrown down my godhood until I have that one object in my possession! That one object denied to me time and again, but no longer will its leering grin elude me! I vow, right here and now, upon Odin’s mighty beard, that I WILL have the S... J... L... Championship, or I will DIE trying!”

The crowd roars their approval as Thor’s massive head flings his mane of hair out of his face. The intensity in his eyes burns a figurative hole in the camera and in the eyes of the people watching at home. Thor begins to slowly pace again as his voice calms down now to a relatively quiet volume. “The drive I have for that belt is excruciating. My determination may cost me my friends. My passion may cost me my family. My pig-headedness may cost me my place amongst the Aesir.” Thor pauses, thinking hard on these words that he just spoke aloud.

Axis: A MONUMENTAL statement from Thor on SJL Wrath! He has come back for the SJL title and seems to be incredibly determined to do so!

King: Come ON!! I’ve seen his so-called “determination” before and I’ve seen where it got those people. It reminds me of a story of a man with drive, determination, and passion for this business. He told me he wanted to be the best there ever was and wanted a shot at the big time. You know where that man is now? His name is Cutthroat. Need I say more?

A chant starts up softly then catches on and grows loudly. The fans scream “GOD OF THUNDER!! clap, clap, clapclapclap!!” As he begins to speak again, the crowd cuts him off with the chant and Thor can do nothing but smile out the side of his mouth. “Please Mortals.” Thor pleads with them to quiet and they politely oblige. “This decision I've made was not an easy one. Not only have I vowed not to return to Asgard until I have the title, but this means I must remain on Midgard until I have done so. I am no longer immortal and will now feel lasting injuries. ‘Tis also true that I have no means now to support myself but my few friends in the mortal realm and my earnings in your mortal currency.

“So I stand before you all today, completely humbled, and completely mortal. Hopefully, this will allow me to understand why these mortals strive for a large chunk of metal, sacrificing so much for love of wrestling. After leaving Midgard, I realized that I too had these same feelings. ‘Twas then that I came to the conclusion that if I had mortal thoughts, perhaps the mortals have rubbed off on me a bit too much. Maybe the unwitting determination of every competitor in this federation has worked its way into my blood and gotten deep inside of me. If that be the case, I am now proud to share my mortality with beings who can withstand the pain and suffering that it takes to be a champion.”

With that, Thor smiles and tosses the mic back to the outside quickly as his music starts up. The fans don’t realize that Thor is finished at first but cheer with joy as they see him step over the top rope and leave the ring. On his way back up the ramp he takes the time to slap hands with some of the fans on the side of the hand not holding Mjolnir. As he reaches the entrance to the backstage area, Thor turns around and yells “HOOOOOOO!!” to the crowd as they respond, dulling the sound of Thor’s theme music.

Axis: Whew, what a way to kick off Wrath! Thor hath returned to the SJL with only one thing on his mind, the SJL Championship. This time Thor is here for good ladies and gentlemen and from his speech, Thor is more motivated than ever!

King: God, I thought he’d NEVER shut up. I’ll give him one thing though, if we ever need to power a windmill all we need to do is put it in front of Thor and say “Talk.” We’ll be back soon with out first match. Go anywhere and I’ll kill you dead!

Commercial...

February 10, 2003

Fade in from black.

“Welcome to....EsssssJayyyyyyEllllll Wraaaaaath!!!”

As we fade in, lights begin flashing all over the arena as they gradually slow and stop when the lights fade up completely. Thusly, we join Axis and that wacky Suicide King at the commentary table, already mid-sentence.

“–because I already owed you? What the hell are you talking about! You can’t pull this on me! I’m the Suicide King, God damnit!”

“Uh, King...”

“No, you listen up you pigmy bastard! I–“

“KING! Shut your hole! We’re on the air!”

The Suicide King stops, looks at Axis as if to imply that he wanted him dead, and he replies.

“That really makes no difference to me.”

“Well it does to me. Besides, we have things to do. In any case...folks! We have an action-packed show for you here tonight, all including the following disclaimer:”

(Dear viewers,

In light of the recent actions of the American Movie industry, we felt led to make a statement regarding some gross misconceptions. The movie “Kangaroo Jack” is not only a travesty, but it is misleading in the fact that Kangaroos can come back to life after being hit by a car. This is NOT true. If you hit a Kangaroo with a car, it will die. Although, if a Kangaroo DOES in fact steal your money, the movie is correct about the fact that he will not give it back. Thank you for listening, and heed our warning; do NOT go see Kangaroo Jack. It is a waste of money and time, and has been known to cause brain damage in children under 12. If you’re hell bent on wasting your time and money, the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation, it’s owners, and affiliates wholeheartedly support doing drugs. Thank you, and have a nice day.

SWF Staff

P.S. - The SWF does not support doing drugs.)

“....uh, okay. Anyway. We’ve got a decent show up for you, with two new kids set to open up the show.”

“They’re not exactly kids, clocking in at 26 and 29 on the age charts...but nonetheless, they are the proverbial new kids on the block. Tryst and Fosta are first up on the agenda.”

“Tryst, with his self-proclaimed legendary persona and fan-pleasing flair, is quickly becoming a fan favorite simply based on word of mouth, and the people that have seen the first promotional effort with his stamp of approval on it.”

“Righto. He’s got the hype, and he beat the crap out of Kivell last week, so we’re set to debut him on Wrath tonight, in what will hopefully be a fantastic bout with another new recruit in Fosta.”

“The fans are already referring to him as ‘Australian for Wrestla’, and he seems to be none too pleased about it. Of course, maybe he’s just a dick.”

“Well, he’s from Chicago...not australia.”

“I don’t think they really care.”

“In any case, I hope these guys put on a fantastic match, or I’m liable to fall asleep.”

“Psst...that was my line!”

“Oh, right. Don’t break kayfabe!”

“Kay-what?”

“...nevermind.”

As the lights blacken out, the crowd drops to a dead silence and their eyes are drawn to the entry way, where a deep green spotlight shines down from above. The Smarktron comes to life, the video running through a lush green forest at great speeds, finally stopping about 20 feet in front of a man, wielding a bow and arrow. He pulls the arrow back, releases, and as it reaches the screen, pyrotechnics on the opposite wall explode as “Forest” by System of a Down blasts across the loud speakers, and the sleeping crowd comes back to life as Tristan Whitt, also known as Tryst, comes rushing out of the back to stand within the spotlight, Bow in one hand, arrow in the other.

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen...the following competitor stands at six feet, one inch tall, weighing in at two hundred and eighteen pounds...he hails from Bairnsdale, Britain...Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Tryyyyyyyyssssst!!!

Making his way down the ramp, Tryst takes off his quiver of arrows and hands it to the timekeeper, along with his bow as he rolls into the ring and soaks in the cheers from the rhapsodic crowd. He quickly tackles Funyon and yells “fiend!” as the announcers takes a seat by the commentators to avoid another conflict. The lights fade back up to normal, and he awaits Fosta.

“Haha, Funyon got a not-so-welcome surprise this time around. Tryst tackled him!”

“Eh, he used to wrestle, he can handle it.”

“No he can’t, he’s crying!”

Funyon tries to stifle his tears as he begins to announce the next competitor.

“And his opponent...*sniff*...weighing in at 235 and standing at six feet, two inches tall...hailing from Chicago, Illinois....he is FOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSS*sniff*TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The lights fade down as “Loco” by Coal Chamber begins to rattle the eardrums of the audience, it’s ringing cymbals and melodic guitar line begin to rumble as Fosta makes his appearance at the entrance. His eyes remain focused; he’s here to do a job, and just that. To beat Tryst...not to entertain the crowd. He’s the bad guy, they hate him one way or the other. Why should he care? He’s gonna take out his enemy at all costs. He walks down the ramp calmly and slowly, keeping his own pace and further angering the crowd all the while. As he reaches the ring he climbs up the stairs and stands atop them, taking a few breaths to stall as the crowd grows impatient. He grins a bit, and then takes himself through the ropes, taking advantage of Tryst having his guard down. He tackles him to the ground, and quickly begins to hammer on Whitt with right hand after right hand. The ref calls for the bell and moves to pull Fosta off of Tryst, and Fosta backs off...only to pull Tryst to his feet, and irish whip him directly into the far corner. Tryst connects with a small groan, and Fosta moves to follow.

“Fast paced action here at the start, Fosta didn’t even wait for the bell, King!”

“So? Who needs the bell?”

“Uh, the match doesn’t start until the bell rings.”

“...differing schools of thought.”

Before Tristan has a chance to make an about face, Fosta is quick to catch him in the spine with a powerful side kick. Whitt hits the turnbuckle with a great amount of force, and Fosta wraps his arm around Tryst’s neck, pulling it tighter as he goes. He reaches up and under Whitt’s arm and pulls up completely, lifting his opponent off of the mat as the ref comes to break the hold. Tryst’s leg is on the ropes...both legs, in fact, are on the ropes. The hold must be broken, and so it is...but not before Fosta milks all that he can out of it. After sustaining it for quite a while, he drops Tryst, who falls to the mat and lands on one knee, hands around the back of his neck as a protection for what may be to come. The referee bitches at Fosta to listen to him when he makes a ruling like that, but Fosta brushes it off and walks right past him. He grabs the still reeling Tryst and yanks him to his feet again, trapping his opponent into a reverse face-lock. Pulling him back towards the center of the ring, he drops him to the mat with a diving reverse ddt, and he holds on for the pin. The ref begins to make that count...

ONE!

The crowd takes a breath.

TWO!

...and Fosta takes a breath. The arm begins to go down for the three, but he sees the foot of Tryst on the rope and stops the count, holding up two to signify it. Fosta gets a bit angry, glaring at the ref, but allows Tryst to get to his feet before he regains his composure. He runs at Whitt, swinging a clothesline as hard as he can, but doesn’t connect when Tryst ducks down under it. Fosta makes an about face as quickly as he can, but he only turns right into the back spinning kick the Tryst throws his way. The force of the kick turns Fosta’s head and sends him stumbling back into the ropes, and Tryst is quick to take advantage of his dizzy opponent. He springboards off of the ropes and corkscrews in the air over Fosta, landing on the ring apron behind him...and as he reaches over the ropes he grabs Fosta under his arms and pulls him backward into a German Suplex!!!

“Oh my, what elegance!”

“Elegance?! That was CARNAGE! Oh mah Gawd, did you see that? Through hell, fire and brimstone, it’s Tryst taking control!!”

“That was beautifully executed though, and I don’t believe either man is going to be quick to get up from that one!”

He sacrificed himself to damage his enemy. How noble. And so he is a bit slow to get up, but still faster than his enemy, who had landed on his neck with not only the weight of his body behind it, but with the momentum going against his favor. He landed hard, and he was hardly moving. Tryst on the other hand took a hit, but it went to his back as he landed on the ground. As he rolls over onto his side, he reaches back and tries to support his lower back, clearly showing a bit of pain through the grimace upon his face. But he trudged on as he made his way to his feed and went straight for the still downed Fosta, picking him up and leading him over to the ring before resting him on the apron. He kicks him in the back of the knee to get him to fall, then connects a thrust kick to the side of his jaw, sending him slack-jawed to the ground once again, still not moving. He moves to apply a submission, but is stopped by the referee, who demands that he bring the match back into the ring. Foiled again! And so he lifts up Fosta and rolls him into the ring as requested, and dives in himself to continue the pursuit of victory. He rolls him onto his back and begins to apply an STF. He grabs the leg...step over toe-hold...and he reaches up for the face, but Fosta begins to squirm and kick, catching Tryst in the junk and sending him to his knees!

“BRUTAL!”

“Ouch, it doesn’t get worse than that. I cry for you, Tryst. Axis, I know you have no balls, but that hurts more than you can imagine.”

“...I hate you so very very much.”

“Pfft, you know you love me. You’re laughing on the inside.”

“No I’m not. I’m cr-“

“Crying on the inside, Axis? I thought you were stronger emotionally than THAT.”

“....SHUT UP!!!!”

Fosta rolls over and grabs Tryst around the neck, slamming him on the mat face first and getting on top of him, reaching around under his neck and pulling back in a make-shift cross-face armbar. He begins to pull back, wrenching as hard as he can to try and get a tap from Tryst, but to no avail. He keeps wrenching, pulling back and loosening again to try and conjure a tap from his opponent. To no avail. Tristan Whitt is no quitter, oh no...and he will give up to no man. And thus, Fosta has no choice but to give up and try another method. And so he does. Letting go of the hold he gets to his feet as quickly as he can to devise another method of a attack, and he decides to get to work on the back as he started to earlier. He pulls up Tryst to his feet and sends him on his way towards the ropes, only to catch him with a knee to the face upon his return. Reeling from the strike, Tryst is shaking out the cobwebs from his head as Fosta grabs him from behind and hoists him onto his back, executing a torture rack! He again wrenches away at Tryst, trying to force him to give up from the pain...the pain, it would seem, is apparent as the stifled screams begin to expunge themselves from Tristan’s lungs. Again, however, Fosta has no luck trying to attain his goal; Tryst simply will not acknowledge defeat like that. Fosta will have to pin him. And so he spins Tryst off of his shoulders and dives to the mat with a spinning neckbreaker, shaking the mat upon impact!

“Wow, things are certainly not looking good for Tryst at this point. Fosta has taken control and is edging closer and closer to ending this match...”

“...with a VENGEANCE!”

“What?”

“With a vengeance, Axis. It’s quite simple. Everything is more extreme if you say ‘with a Vengeance’ at the end of it. It’s just very menacing. Don’t you think?”

“...Well, I suppose it is a little disconcerting, yes.”

“Disconcerting....with a VENGEANCE!”

“Oh God.”

Fosta bounces up from the mat and immediately makes the cover on Tryst as the referee comes over to make that three count. He drops his hand to the mat....

ONE!

The crowd cheers for Tristan to get up. They don’t want to see him lose.

TWO!

They get louder. They can’t see him lose. He shouldn’t lose.

THRE-

No! He kicks out a fraction of a second before the three count, sending Fosta into a frenzy. He should’ve won by now! He can’t believe it, and Tryst is moving ever so slowly. Time to take advantage. Fosta lays down a few kicks to the upper body of Tryst before going over to the turnbuckle and climbing it, level by level, until he stands atop it, facing the crowd. They know what’s coming. Tryst, just regaining his bearings, glances up from the mat to see Fosta standing atop the turnbuckle, and he rushes to get to his feet as Fosta stares out into the crowd in defiance. The crowd begins to get louder as they cheer on their hero, and Fosta doesn’t see why they are cheering. But he feels it. Tryst gets to the top rope and shakes it with all his might, causing his enemy to lose his balance and land the wrong way on the turnbuckle. He screams out in pain as Tryst grabs him over his back, lifts him up and off of the turnbuckle, and slams him over his head to the mat with a crucifix powerbomb! He latches his feet over Fosta’s arms and goes for the cover...

ONE!

He isn’t moving. He shouldn’t be. He should be crying.

TWO!

Something doesn’t feel right...this can’t be the end.

THR-

And thus, it is not. Fosta manages to get a kick out just before the three count, as Tryst did a few moments before. Fosta gets to his feet as quickly as he can, but it isn’t all that fast. Just the same, Tryst gets to his feet and lies in wait for Fosta to make his move.

“I think Tryst is setting him up for The Crusade! This could be the end!”

“Could be, but will it? Both men are tired, but Fosta may have a trick or two left up his sleeve.”

But he doesn’t. Fosta groggily turns around and Tryst is quick to take advantage, leaping toward him with a hard kick to the chest. Fosta goes flailing back towards the ropes and they send him right back at Tristan. He lifts Fosta up into the air and twists him as he takes him face-first to the mat...

“The Crusade! The Crusade! This has gotta be it, King! It has to!”

Slam! The collision with the mat triggers a huge pop from the crowd, and Tryst rolls Fosta onto his back as he hooks the leg and hopes for the end.

ONE!

That took a lot out of him, but it hurt Fosta more.

TWO!

This is it...he can’t get back up...can he?

THREE!

And so, we end.

“Ring the bell!”

“I guess Fosta’s last trick was playing dead, eh King?”

“I guess so, Axis...I guess so.”

System of a Down’s “Forest” begins blasting across the loudspeaker as Tryst gets to his feet in celebration and onto the first rope of the turnbuckle he goes. He throws his arms out to his sides as he closes his eyes and soaks in the adoring cheers from the crowd before being satisfied. As soon as he is, he drops to the mat and rolls to the outside, making his way toward the back as the crowd continues to cheer him on.

“What a great opener from two up and coming stars! We’ll be sure to watch for their names in the future. BUT! Up next we’ve got Aecas taking on Sean Atlas for the right to fight Chris Card for the European Championship! It should be a great one.”

“That’s right Axis, it certainly should. We leave you with this as we fade to commercial.”

The screen replays the end of the match...the kick, the lift, and the slam...as we fade out to a video package for Janus vs. Mike Van Siclen for the vacant SJL World title.

February 10, 2003

Coming back to Wrath, the camera focuses up on the Smarktron as it fills with static, and the words "Earlier Today" scroll across it. The static fades out to reveal the streets of Sydney, as the camera pans before heading into the nearest...shall we say...drinking establishment. The crowd lets out a loud cheer as they see, seated at the bar, the giant form of Janus, and beside him, the slightly smaller shape of Crow. The 6'2" superstar, looking quite small to the figure next to him knocks back a shot glass of what looks to be whiskey. He slams the shot glass down on the bar, next to a collage of empty drinks... various beer bottles, and a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Janus on the other hand sits quite contently looking at the 3 empty Jim Beam bottles in front of him. Crow turns to Janus and begins to speak.

"Jeeshush FARK, Yaaaanus! You even tha' little bit fucking drunk, there!?"

The giant looks down at Crow for a moment, before picking up a fourth bottle of Jim Beam and sculling it down in about three seconds, before slamming it on the table and replying in perfect, Aussie-accented English.

"No."

"Yyyaaa know Yaanus!? I lluuuuuvvvv uu man! I know wes havant been da best of mates in tha ppast, but noow! We're FAAAARRRKKKIINN SOUL MATES! Lissssen, ya wannas get wit sum hottie tonight!?"

Crow speaks in a very slurred manner, obviously quite drunk from all the alcohol he's consumed. Janus studies Crowe for a long moment, one hand on yet another bottle of Jim Beam as he looks at the drunken Adelaidian for several moments. His voice is deadpan as he shakes his head at the smaller superstar, taking his hand off the bottle as if saying that's enough alcohol.

"Crow...you aren't my type."

This draws laughs from the arena crowd who are watching this on the Smarktron, as the really drunken Crow leans on Janus' shoulder and points into the crowd with a slurred grin on his face.

"Wha' aboutsh that farrrrrking hottie dere, maaate!?"

Crow points over to the other side of the bar, and almost falls off his barstool. He holds onto Janus trying to balance himself as the giant turns his head and responds with a deadpan tone.

"That's Russell Crowe..."

This comment causes the crowd back at the Opera House to let out cries of laughter and some, probably also drunk, who thoroughly enjoyed the joke start clapping.

"WHHAAAT!? Reeally?"

Crow leans forward to take a closer look... and falls face first onto the floor.

"WOOT THE FARK DID YOU SAY!?"

A loud Australian accented voice is heard from the out of view area of the bar, and the camera swivels around to catch Australian actor Russell Crowe walk over to the duo much like an olden style southpaw boxer would. Crow, lifting his head off the floor, just grins with that drunken slur on his face, and Janus lifts up his...what number was it now...aw, we'll just say fifth...bottle of Jim Beam as the apparently pissed off - not to mention drunkenly pissed - Russel Crowe glares at them, waving his arms in the air for a moment.

"...'OO THE FARK DO YA THINK 'OO ARE! I'M FARKING RUSSEL CROWE, MATE!"

"....And I'm Janus. Your point?"

Crowe slurs from the floor.

"Ishn't he a farrrrking mooooo-vie shtar or some shit?"

"...I'M NO FOOKING FARKER!! I'LL BLOODY DO YOU!"

The blindly drunk Russell Crowe throws a violent swing... and makes a connection with the cheek Janus. A resounding "Ooooooh" echoes throughout the Opera House in response to the punch. Janus though, just smacks his lips together and downs his fifth bottle of Jim Beam in a matter of seconds. He looks at the bottle, and then at the drunk and bewildered Russell Crowe...

*SMASH!*

Janus smashes the empty bottle of Jim Beam over the head of Russell Crowe! Russ flies back onto a bar table and Crow decides to get into the mix! He grabs a pool cue from the racks and hits Russell in the crotch with it! The bewildered and in agonising pain movie star crumbles to the ground as Crow nearly falls flat on his faces again. Slinging the drunken Adelaidian's arm over his shoulder, Janus glances once at the bartender, then looks at the battered body of Russell Crowe.

"....He's paying."

With those words, supporting his fellow drunken Australian, Janus exits the bar as the crowd whoops and cheers at seeing Aussies do what Aussies are farking famous for. The Smarktron once more fizzles out with static as the cameras focus again on the arena...

February 10, 2003

Backstage, in the hallways of the Sydney Opera House, a flustered Ben Hardy is seen chasing down a man, presumably an SJL wrestler. The camrea shakes awkwardly due to the inability of the camera man to steady it as he runs. Finally, Ben Hardy catches up to Sean Atlas, who is seen from the waist up. His midsection is slightly out of shape, and the scarred tattoo of "MS" on his shoulder catches Hardy's atention for a split second, but the reporter is quick to speak, and asks Atlas some questions.

"Sean Atlas. A word before your match, if you will?" he asks.

"Certainly, Ben. What's on your mi... hey, wait a second." says Atlas, noticing the cross around his neck. "You know what, I don't think I have time for this right now..."

Atlas gives Hardy another look, into his eyes and at the cross again, then simply walks away. Hardy looks confused as to what just happened but is visibly happy that he nobody beat the living daylight out of him. Flippantly, he turns around and walks away from the scene...

February 10, 2003

Axis: We're back ladies and gentlemen, and coming up next is a Special Guest Referee match for number one contendership to the SJL Unified European Championship.

Suicide King: That's right. And the twist here is that the referee is the European Champ himself, Chris Card.

"Grind" by Alice in Chains fires up and Chris Card walks into the entranceway, dressed in a referee's shirt, sweatpants, and his European gold. With a slight sneer towards the crowd, Chris and Natasha walk slowly and deliberately down towards the ring, with Chris stopping to part the ropes for Natasha. Inside the ring she raises her arms above her head showing off her figure, and then points them towards Chris, who drops into his Heartbreaker pose, crouched in a fighting stance, arms crossed across his chest, thumbs pointing towards his heart. The crowd is all over him tonight, because of his win against local hero Janus on Metal. Card takes it in stride though, looking tough and professional as always.

"The following match is set for one fall, and is for number one contendership to the SJL Unified European Championship!" says the booming voice of Funyon. "Introducing, the special referee for this match, your new European champion, 'Technical Perfection', CHRIS CARD!"

Suddenly, the arena goes dark as the opening strains of Rob Zombie's "Superbeast" play. As the heavier riffs of the song kick in, red lights begin to strobe around the arena, like an alarm system gone wrong - or a system that is warning of imminent carnage. The Smarktron displays "AECAS" with blood dripping onto and through the word...

"Currently making his way to the ring, weighing in at 120 kilograms, hailing from Shrewsbury, England, AECAS!

As the Smarktron plays the movie, a blood red spotlight picks out Aecas as he strides down the aisle. His face alternates from an impassive visage to a mask of almost demonic glee with each flicker of the spotlight. He enters the ring through the ropes, and beyond the spotlight, we can see Chris Card standing elsewhere in the ring. Natasha has already made her way out of the ring, and she looks at Aecas with a bit of admiration. Chris Card chooses this time to take his belt off and hand it to Natasha. Everyone then waits for Atlas to arrive...

Breaking Benjamin's "Polyamorous" hits the arena speakers, and the lights flash to the song's intro. After the five second intro period, an explosion goes off onstage. Moments later, Sean Atlas makes his way out. He sees Aecas and Chris Card in the ring and shows a half-smile, barely seen through the white mask. As he walks down the ramp he makes condescending motions to the fans while they receive him with much displeasure after his recent promo segments and previous match.

"His opponent, weighing in at 105 kilograms, from Chicago, Illinois, USA, SEAN ATLAS!"

Atlas gets to the ring and sees how anxious Aecas is to get the match started. He slowly climbs the steps, looking right into Aecas' eyes. From the apron, Atlas takes his sweet time getting through the ropes, despite Chris Card telling him to hurry it up. The moment he's inside though, Aecas charges at him and right away, and hits The Gore to start the match!

*ding ding*

To the roar of the crowd, Aecas pounds away on Atlas in revenge for what happened on Metal. He gets in around half a dozen punches before Chris Card successfully pulls him off, to at least give Atlas a fair chance. Aecas starts arguing with Card, who is claiming that he obviously does what he does in the interest of fairness. Meanwhile, Atlas comes to his feet, holding his midsection and rubbing his face. Seeing this, Card moves to the side, allowing the two men to go at it.

Aecas stalks Sean around the ring in circles. He teases attacking Atlas a few times in the process, until finally running at him. He's met with a kick to the stomach though, and Atlas quickly jumps in to try a DDT. But Aecas will have none of it, and holds on to Atlas' arm, bends back, and turns it into a Northern Lights Suplex. He promptly stands back up, still holding onto Atlas' hand. He lifts Sean up by the arm, then wrenches it around him. He shifts it into a Hammerlock, and from behind, instead of hitting a power move, he arrogantly kicks Atlas' back. Visibly upset, Atlas rapidly turns around, but the moment he does, Aecas is already charging at him and hits a vicious clothesline, sending Atlas down with a loud thud. The crowd cheers him on as he taunts Atlas on the mat.

King: Looks like Aecas really took what happened in Japan personally, eh Axis?

Axis: Full on, mate. He ought to be cautious though, as Chris Card may not be a fair Jack here.

King: Um... 'kay.

Aecas picks Sean up by his arm again, and sends him into the ropes. Atlas bounces off, and Aecas stands, doubled over in the middle of the ring. Almost instinctively, Atlas stops and tries to kick Aecas in the chest, but that's exactly what Aecas was waiting for, and he catches the leg. He holds Sean's leg while he hops on the other, smiling at the one legged man. But Atlas quickly wipes that smile of his face using the sole of his shoe with an Enziguri! Atlas falls while Aecas is forcefully turned around and taken down to one knee. Working fast, Atlas stands and drops an elbow to the back of Aecas. This doesn't hurt him as much as it angers him though. So when Atlas jumps on and tries a German Suplex, Aecas will have none of it and he reverses the hold into one of his own. Then, with raw power, pops his hips and tosses Atlas over using a Release German Suplex! Atlas lands with a loud thud, which is drowned out by the excitement of the fans. Aecas comes down and hooks Sean's leg. Chris Card takes his time before counting though, but once he does…

...One...

...Two...

No!

Atlas kicks out! Aecas glares at Card, thinking that this won't be a fair fight, but Chris just ignores him and continues his 'reasonable' officiating. Aecas lifts Atlas up to his feet, and deliberately throws a few forearms at him. He walks Atlas into the corner, then whips him to the other side. Sean bounces off chest-first, and hears the running footsteps of Aecas behind him. Acting on intuition alone, Atlas ducks, causing Aecas to miss the back lariat he was trying. Aecas stops short of the corner and turns around, only to be met with a swift kick to the gut, and before he can recover, he feels Atlas' arm around his neck. Atlas takes his feet out from under him and pulls Aecas down for a...

King: DDT! Atlas gets it on the second try, and he's definitely still in this one.

Axis: I dunno, mate. He seems to have a buckley's chance at winning, as they're having more than just a barney there.

King: You know, just because we're in Sydney doesn't mean you have to go all Aussie-speak on me.

Axis: Oh, bite your bum, you bloke.

King: (shaking his head) .......

Sean stands up a second before Aecas does. Atlas attacks him with the back of his hand *smack* right against his chest. Another *smack* knife edge chop, then *smack* a third sends Aecas leaning against the turnbuckle. The crowd gets louder with every *smack* and comes down on Atlas more and more. He now uses the back of his elbow to hit Aecas right to the side of his jaw. After a few more random punches, Atlas takes a step back, and jumps up onto Aecas' shoulders. In one fluid motion, Atlas hits a hurricanrana, flipping Aecas over towards the middle of the ring! As the camera zooms out to show the entire move, we can see Natasha on the outside, clearly disapproving what Atlas does. Meanwhile, Sean steps on the ropes, climbing his way up. He's not known for doing too many top rope moves, but once he gets to the top, Sean awkwardly bends at the knees and leaps backwards, flying through the air with all the grace of a brick... and misses! Aecas read the moonsault, and rolled out of the way before Atlas landed!

Aecas rolls over, stands up, and grabs Atlas by his hair. He grips Atlas' arm again and wrenches it, just as before. Atlas clutches his shoulder in pain, trying to counter the force applied by Aecas. He snaps the arm and stomps, in hopes of causing even more pain to Sean. As a last resort, Atlas decides to simply kick Aecas in his knee, hoping it'll be enough to get him away. It is, and Aecas lets the arm go. Sean steps away rubbing his arm, but before he knows it, Aecas has it again and sends him running at the ropes. Atlas bounces off and on his way back, sees the foot of Aecas leveling itself with his face. He ducks and runs past him, avoiding the big boot. Sean bounces off the other ropes, and this time catches Aecas the moment after he turned back around. Atlas wants to go for a cross-body, but is too indecisive about it, allowing the quick-thinking Aecas to catch him on his shoulders, and slam him back down with a Fallaway Slam! He goes for the pin...

No, he doesn't... Aecas backs off the cover and seems to have an idea. He stands up, and gets Atlas up as well. Dragging him by his arm, Aecas leads him to the ropes, and swings him though, sending Sean to the outside. He lands in a heap on the protective mat, to the sound of the front row fans booing and taunting him in their Australian dialects. Aecas rolls out there too and lifts Atlas back up to his feet. Before he can do anything destructive though, Chris Card shows up leaning against the ropes, warning Aecas about getting disqualified. He's completely ignored though, and Aecas whips Sean directly into the ring post. "One!" counts Card, strictly enforcing the ring-out rule. He's also ("Two!") counts quite fast. Aecas, meanwhile, is busy peeling away the protective rubber mat, to reveal the concrete underneath...

King: Hah! Aecas is trying to do the same thing Atlas did to him on Metal! What a... narky and unoriginal... bloke. Yeah.

Axis: Don't even start...

("Three!") Aecas tugs away at the mat. He gets the layer off, and lays it flat atop the one next to it. Aecas ("Four!") walks back over to Atlas, without giving any mind to Card and his counting. He lifts Sean ("Five!") to his feet and walks him over to the newly stripped spot. Atlas tries to fight back though ("Six!") but it isn't enough, and Aecas throws him against the barricade. He uses this moment to roll back into the ring to stop the count, but Card ignores it and ("Seven!") continues the count... Apparently, both men have to be back in the ring for the count to cease. Aecas is told ("Eight!") that unless he gets both Atlas and himself back inside the ring, he will be counted out and will lose the match. The fans, just understanding the situation, show their disapproval. Some that are ringside cheer Aecas on when he grabs Atlas again and rolls him back in the ring. Finally, Aecas decides to go for the cover... but Card doesn't count! He's busy telling the ringside assistants to cover up the concrete spot on the outside! Aecas yells at him and bangs his fist to get attention, which comes long after a three count would have been made... Card slides down near them...

...One...

...Two...

...NO! Atlas kicks out!

Aecas stands up, furious over the late count. He gets up in Card's grill about it, and even forces him into the ropes. The two of them exchange words, many of them of the four letter kind. After the quarrel, Aecas backs off and returns to Sean Atlas, still keeping an eye on Card. He sends Atlas running into the ropes, but instead of bouncing, he does a baseball slide to stop himself. Aecas charges at him, but Atlas is alert enough to see him and introduces Aecas' chin to the bottom of his boot using a Superkick! As Aecas comes to his feet, Sean gets behind him, then to his side, setting up a Russian Leg Sweep... and hits it!

Atlas stands up, doing so before Aecas, and grabs him by the arm. Sean whips him, but doesn't let go, and Aecas is forced back to him. Atlas hooks his arms around, and tries an Overhead Belly-to-Belly, but Aecas still isn't weakened enough and for the second time in this match, reverses Atlas' suplex into one of his own! He stands up beside Atlas and just as Sean gets his footing down, Aecas lifts him up and successfully executes a backbreaker. He stands again, and waits behind Atlas, out of his view. Chris Card sees it, and goes to 'check on' Atlas. Aecas finds this suspicious, and when Card moves back, Aecas stares him down. This distraction allows Atlas to roll over, and from the mat, kick Aecas in the knee. Quickly, he hooks his feet trying a drop toe hold, but Aecas notices it and gets his foot out... He grabs on to Atlas' feet, then his legs, and then turns him around to lock on a Boston Crab!

Atlas is in visible pain, as Aecas puts more and more torque on the hold... Chris Card comes around, constantly asking Atlas if he want to quit... The ropes don't seem all that far away though, and Atlas starts crawling his way towards them... Aecas keeps putting the force on Sean's legs, pulling back even when Atlas moves... From his point of view though, Aecas can't see just how close Sean is to the ropes... Card stays on him, incessantly asking if he'll quit... Atlas keeps shaking his head, forcing his way towards the bottom rope... About two feet to go now, and Aecas tries to pull Atlas back to the middle..... He doesn't get very far though, and the momentary weakness in the hold allows Atlas to get within a foot of the rope....... But with that last push, he seems to have nothing left and is about to tap........ When Chris Card tells Aecas to release the hold!

Axis: What the digger is he doing??

King: It looks like he's telling Aecas that Atlas reached the rope…

Axis: Crikey! That lying whippersnapper must be whacked!

King: ....Go eat a 'roo, Axis

Axis: Well, Thank ya, mate. Right back at ya!

Aecas drops Sean's legs so he can check Card's claims. The moment he turns, Atlas' hand just reaches the rope. The fans boo the hell out of both Chris Card and Atlas, knowing exactly what just happened. Aecas shows his rage more and more now, but he forces himself to contain it. He turns his attention to Sean, and forcefully brings him back up. Aecas starts a striking assault, throwing punches and forearms until Atlas is forced into the ropes. From there, he pushes Sean against them, and with a small running start, Aecas has enough momentum on Atlas to pick him up and drop him back down for a Sidewalk Slam! Coming back up, Aecas grabs on to Atlas' arm again and twists it back. He turned it so far that Sean is forced to roll over backwards and sit up on his knee. Aecas tugs away at the arm, leaving Atlas no choice but to hit a low blow! Aecas doubles over, and looks at Chris Card, hoping for a DQ. Card saw nothing wrong however, and lets the match go on...

Aecas stumbles in obvious pain. Feeling as though he has to finish this up quickly, Atlas quickly makes it to his feet and pulls Aecas up as well. Aecas tries to fight back, and takes a wild swing, which Atlas ducks. He gets behind Aecas and pulls his feet out from under him. Sean drops down on Aecas' back, floats over and hooks his arms around his opponent's waist. Clearly struggling, Sean stands with his arms still hooked around Aecas' waist. He tugs and pulls Aecas up, and with a loud scream of anguish, throws Aecas over with a Wheelbarrow Suplex! Aecas lands on his back, allowing Atlas to slide over, and hook the leg...

...ONE...

...TWO...

...NO!

Aecas kicks out, in part due to Chris Card being fair to him for the first time in this match. Atlas, realizing it may have been too early to go for the cover, stands back up. He grabs Aecas by his neck and stands him up too. Sean whips Aecas to the ropes, trying to use this moment to catch his breath. Aecas bounces and comes back to Atlas... who grabs his feet and hits a Sweep Spinebuster directly in the center of the ring! Sean stumbles, but doesn't fall down. He stares at his opposition, waiting for him to stand while the crowd's anticipation builds once again.

Aecas rolls to his front, unaware of Sean's eyes stalking him He gets his feet planted and finally stands... But before he can study his surroundings, he feels the pain of being kicked in the stomach. A moment later, Aecas finds himself spread across someone's shoulders, Sean Atlas', and the fact that Atlas is about to hit The Saint's Demise finally comes into Aecas' mind. Thinking fast and acting even faster, Aecas elbows Sean in his face... elbow, after elbow... Finally, Atlas drops him, and he lands right on his feet... Atlas stumbles around holding his face, coming to the near side of the ring. Blind to nearly everything going on, and mostly deaf from the roar of the crowd, Atlas doesn't realize how close Aecas is... close enough to grab his neck... to twist his head... and to hit the Diamond Cutter! Atlas goes down hard, with only enough energy left to twitch and lift his arms and legs. Aecas rolls back over, hooks the near leg for a cover...

...ONE...

...TWO...

...THREEEENNNOOOOOO!!!

Aecas looks around, perplexed as to why he hasn't won the match. He looks at Chris Card, who points out Atlas' foot hanging limply on the bottom rope. Furious over the situation, despite its evenhandedness, Aecas finally loses his temper. He walks toward Chris Card, threatening him, coming dangerously close to pushing him down. Card denies doing anything wrong, but Aecas doesn't care and finally shoves the European Champion and referee! He's saved from falling by the ropes, and is just about to disqualify Aecas when he feels someone tugging on his foot. It's Natasha, and she jumps on the apron, pleading with Chris to allow the match to continue. For the second time, Card raises his hand; a swing away from calling the DQ, but Natasha grabs it, and begs him not to do it... At last, he gives in, and reluctantly tells Aecas that the match is still going.

Aecas smiles at Card and at Natasha as well. He turns around, facing Atlas who is down on one knee near the corner, trying to stand up. He crouches down, preparing to sprint at Atlas... and takes off! Sean senses the rumbling surface of the ring and lifts his head up. He sees his opponent charging at him, about to hit The Gore... and avoids it! Sean leapfrogs over Aecas and causes him to hit his shoulder against the ringpost! Adrenaline now rushing through his blood, Sean runs up behind Aecas, and forces him into the post again! In retaliation for the elbows to the face, he repeatedly bashes Aecas' shoulder against the metal post. Then, he pulls Aecas out of the ropes, reaches under his arm, and latches on to the back of his neck. With the other arm, Sean hooks Aecas' throat - successfully locking on the Katahajime!

Axis: Katahajime Choke applied by Atlas! He could win it all here!

Aecas can be seen weakening at the knees with every passing second... No longer able to hold up his weight, Atlas swings Aecas down to the surface of the ring and falls with him, Katahajime still locked on tightly... The fans try to cheer Aecas on, hoping that he can come back here...But it doesn't look like it anymore, because his eyes are closing and he is clearly going out... Chris Card comes over and lifts his arm... It drops! ("ONE!") Right away, he lifts it up again... AGAIN, IT DROPS! ("TWO!") For the third, and possibly final time, Chris picks Aecas' arm once more... AND THROWS IT DOWN! ("THREE!") Chris calls for the bell...

*DING DING*

"Um, the winner of this match, by way of submission, SEAN ATLAS!"

Axis: What the hell? Did Chris Card just deliberately slap Aecas' arm down?!? Well that's not fair! Granted, Aecas had no right to complain about Sean's foot being on the ropes, but this is uncalled for!

King: Relax... his arm would have dropped anyway… I think.

Axis: You don't know that! And now we never will...

By now, Atlas has rolled off Aecas' limp body. With his music playing in the background, drowning out the massive booing, he looks at Chris Card, who has already received his belt back from Natasha. He heads for the ropes on the entrance side, but before he exists, Sean's hand grabs his shoulder. Card steps back and comes face to face with Atlas. He glances over at his European Title, still in his hand. Atlas does the same. Chris takes a step back, pulls the belt level with his waist and steps it on, fastening it behind him. He taps on the belt's face and points to his chest, indicating who the champ is. Sean takes a step back as well, cleverly nodding in understanding. He raises his hand, then his index finger, informing Card of who his next, and his first title defense will be against. Chris smiles at the gesture, and exits the ring, eyes still locked upon Atlas and his mask. Though he can't know who's hiding behind it, he's pretty sure that right now, there's a smile on that man's face as well...

February 10, 2003

Wrath returns from the ad break to a shot of screaming Sydney fans, drunk, happy and loving the show that the Smartmarks Junior Leagues is putting on for them! Once again, the focuses up onto the Smarktron and the words "A bit later on from earlier today..." appear on the screen. The screen fades into to a shot of Crow, still slightly tipsy walking to a door. The sign of the door reads "Changing Rooms" and Crow knocks on the door and yells ou

"COME ON JANUS! We got some cricket to play mate!"

Almost instantly the door flings back and Janus appears, looking over Crow. Janus is wearing cricket whites, albeit they are a bit too small for him, but he somehow manages to keep a straight face as the pressure against his body grows.

"Farkin' sick, now let's go play some cricket..."

Janus takes about two steps forward and pauses with an almost uncomfortable expression on his face. Seeing him hesitate, Crow studies the giant and tries to figure out what's wrong, wavering slightly as both he and the camera pan downwards to reveal a very...well.....flattering shot of the tight pants against Janus' manliness. The giant growls low in his throat.

"Let's play some farking cricket."

Chastened, almost, the camera and Crow look up, and the 'farking bird' nods, turning to walk off. The camera pans as the cameraman stands next to the giant, and the embarassment to the giant is paid back as everyone gets to see Crow's loose whites hang down, revealing a not-quite-flattering view of some Australian asscheek. The ladies in the crowd are having fits of orgasm in their seats as the camera cuts to an image of green, the beautiful grass of the Sydney Cricket Ground. A long shot of Crow and Janus walking out from the stands, Crow with cricket balls in hand and Janus, with an extra large Kookaburra Cricket Bat. The two men walk out to the centre of the oval, or as us Cricket Literate people like to call it, the "pitch". Janus, not being a very experienced cricketer, looks at the bat in his hands.

"So... how do I use this thing?"

"I'll show you the ropes... or should I say strokes.. AHAHAHA... not funny..."

Crow proceeds to show Janus various shots, including the square cut and the pull shot.

"Now, this is what they call a straight drive..."

Crow swings the bat, and Janus mimics the movement almost like a 'friendly' giant. Although as we all know Janus isn't quite that friendly. Directing the giant to one end of the pitch, Crow walks down to the other end and warms up, yelling to Janus.

"Try and hit the ball!"

Running forward, Crow does a little hop-skip-and-jump as he reaches the crease, and pegs the ball full force at Janus. The red cricket ball streaks through the air towards the giant, who reacts and swings the bat up with a straight drive, with a resounding CRACK as he meets the ball head on with the bat. His Australian compatriot stares and then drops flat as the ball roars through the space where his head once was, flying through the air...An outline of a male figure can be made out in the distance, and Janus sees this as he watches the ball fly through the air.

*CLONK!*

The figure falls flat onto his back, almost like a wrestling break fall and lies on the ground, lifeless... arms spread sprawled out over the ground.

"Oops" states Janus dryly, dropping the bat to the ground and looking marginally concerned. Crow gets up and looks back... running towards Janus.

"Maybe we should like... go inside... or something..."

"Good idea."

Both Crow and Janus retreat to the stands at full speed, but aha! Crow's pants fall down once again! Crow quickly pulls them back up and catches up the towering giant. The camera runs over to the figure in the distance and focuses in on his face.

It's Russell Crowe.

February 10, 2003

Funyon stands in the middle of the ring to announce the next match,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the next match of the evening will be the .. KANGAROO JACK MATCH!"

Cheers and some laughter roll out from the crowd.

"It will be a No Disqualifications match, with next man wearing an oversized Kangaroo suit."

More cheering and laughing.

"Axis, this one isn't going out on air is it?" King questions nervously.

"I don't think anyone upstairs would be mad enough to show this. So no, why?" Axis questions back.

"Because this is going to be very bad. And as much as I hate these two, I get a performance percentage cut from this tour." King looks shiftily around before smiling.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that King. I'm just going to take this one as normal." Axis says smoothly.

"You can do what you want. I'm going to sit here and laugh my well paid ass off, thank you very much."

"Introducing first, from Birmingham, England, at two hundred and fifty four pounds ... DACE 'HORRORCORE' NIGHT!"

'Winds of Creation' starts hammering out, as Dace steps out, in the kangaroo costume, complete with boxing shorts, and oversized boxing gloves. Throwing punches to the air, Rocky style, and laughing with the crowd, Dace struggles under the bottom rope, and just about manages to stand on his big feet.

Waving to the fans, Dace doesn't look to bothered by the situation he's in.

"Doesn't look so Horrorcore right now does he." King smirks.

"But he looks happy King." Axis replies.

"And his opponent, from Honolulu, Hawaii, at two hundred twenty one pounds ...'PUNK ROCKSTAR' Matt Myers.

'Over My Head' starts up, as Matt makes his way out, looking less happy about the costume that Dace, but still waving to the cheering fans. Making his own struggle under the ropes in the costume, Myers stands in the ring, waving to the cheering people.

Stepping up to Dace, the two exchange words, before stepping back and smiling.

"I'm not sure how these man are going to be able to wrestling in these Kangaroo costumes, but they look happy about it."

"Man, this is so funny, I'm going to be ripping about this one for years man." King laughs sarcastically at the two men in the ring.

There referee pats down Dace's costume, checking for any concealed weapons before the match starts. Making sure that the No DQ match has a fair start. Coming to the pouch, there's a clink. Patting again, with a bemused look on his face.

"What are these guys doing Axis? This is No DQ, so you can just bring the weapons to the ring in your hands. If you are going to hide them, don't put them where the ref will find the damn things."

The Referee asks Dace Night to empty out his pouch. Shaking off his over sized gloves, Dace lets them fall to the mat with a thunk. A pair of brass knuckles rolls out of the gloves.

The fans roar with laughter, as Dace and Myers, look on shrugging, as the ref sweep the weapons out of the ring.

Now reaching into his pouch, Dace starts pulling things out of his costume pouch. A bag comes out first, dropping on the mat, and spilling out, in a tinkle of thumb tacs. Then a roll of barbed wire or three joins them on the mat.

The ref's eyes grow wider and wider, and then several packets of C4 drop to the mat, then a pair of jagged edge scissors. Lightbulb boxes, full of light bulbs end up on the mat, as Dace grins from ear to ear, holding his hands up roars of laughter from the crowd.

"I'm not sure if Dace and Myers are planning a blood bath, or a comedy show." Axis says surprising a laugh of his own.

King just looks on, going slightly pale at all the stuff on the mat.

The referee moves nervously over to Matt Myers, and asks him to take out all the stuff he has hidden away.

Shaking off his gloves, Myers looks down innocently, as several pieces of bricks rolls out of the loaded gloves.

Delving into his pouch, Myers brings out a staple gun. Then a cheese grater, and several lengths of chain uncoil slowly onto the mat.

King just looks on, seeing his pay check slipping away.

"These guys are idiots, this isn't the WW bloody E. Start some damn wrestling." King yells.

"I thought you wanted to see this stuff." Axis says laughing along with the crowd.

And finally, just to show he can, Myers reaches deep, deep down into his pouch, and fighting, trying to pull something out.

OOOOOHHHHH!

Throwing his arms up into the air, a trio of small white doves flutter up out of his arms and flap out into the arena.

AAAAAAHHHHH!

"And now these guys are putting on a magic show for the crowd. I guess they're making the best of the bad situation they're in with his match." Comments Axis.

Not to be outdone either, Dace reaches into his pouch one last time, and starts pulling. A long stream of coloured sheets starts coming out, like the classic clown act.

The referee just stands in the corner, looking at the weapon covered mat, and the building pile of brightly coloured clothe on the mat.

Dace pulls faster and faster, and still the coloured clothes keep coming out.

Myers starts a beat with his oversized feet, as the crowd joins in, almost like a drum roll.

At the fight, there's a yell, as Dace gives one great yank, and rips of his boxing shorts, with the last of the clothes. Quickly covering his Kangaroo costume's sensitive areas, he gives a mocking blush.

The fans get up from their seats, clapping away, and laughing at the actions of the two men.

"Come on run it. Let's have a run in. It just takes one guy to come out and lay these two out, to end all this horror." King begs.

"Sorry King, don't think you've got any chance of that one." Axis says.

Finally ringing the bell, the referee orders them to wrestling.

DING, DING, DING!

Taking one of the brightly coloured clothes, Dace steps up to Myers, as the two men stand as close as they can to each other, as the big costumes will let them.

Myers swings a ring hand into Dace's mid section, which just bounces off the costume's padding. Dace answers by flicking Matt in the chest with the cloth.

Leaping backwards off his feet, Myers hits the mat, shaking on convulsing as if he'd been shot. The crowd cheers on at the obviously comedy act.

Placing his tail over Myers' skill still shaking chest, Dace makes a massive cover. The bemused looking referee makes a count, looking strangely at both men.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4

......1/2

......3/4

......9/10

......Kickout!

"My god! Matt Myers just kicked out of the brightly coloured cloth shot. How could any man survive that one? This is inhuman, this isn't right." Axis yells.

With a well acted look of shock on his face, Dace stamps on Matt's tail.

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The crowd boo and jeer in anger as Myers rolls around screaming on the mat, clutching at his tail.

"What dirty tricks from Dace Night. Attacking the man's tail while he's down. That just isn't right" Axis shouts.

Grabbing Myers' tail between both hands, Night kneels down on it, and twists with all his might.

Screaming in pure agony, Myers scrambles desperately, trying to break free of the twisting tail hold, which is threatening to rip his tail clean off.

The referee asks Myers is he wants to give up, hoping this is all part of the act, and playing along with it,

NO!

The fans roar at the sheer guts that the Punk Rockstar is showing.

Rolling over with a massive effort, Myers makes to bring feet off, kicking Dace off, and sends him tripping over backwards, crashing into the lightbulb tubes, which explode under Dace's body in a shower of glass.

RRRRRRRRRAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

Not even noticing that he just landed back first on some glass, Dace pops back up to his feet, brushing himself down.

Grabbing the scissors, Dace swings them over head, and drives them deep into the stomach of the rising Myers.

Not even looking at the scissors, Matt swings a left hand, slapping Dace across the face, which sends him flying across the ring, and bouncing hard into the turnbuckles.

"Look at Dace, he's went for the wrong move. A little thing like some scissors in the gut and pouch isn't going to hurt Matt at all. But that left hand slap, a move that could kill a weaker man, sends Dace across the ring into the turnbuckles." Axis calls.

"What the hell... just what? Have I woken up in the Twilight Zone or something." King mouths slowly, not sure what to do.

"These guys are really pulling out all the stops. I'm not sure if either of them will be left alive at the end of this titanic battle."

Dragging Dace out of the corner, Myers steps behind Dace Night, and hooking his arm around his head, and then using his leg, trips Dace backwards with a Side Russian Leg Sweep, sending both men down onto the coils of barbed wire.

Rolling over, and scrambling up, the two titans ignore the pain of barbed wire ripping into the sensitive fur and padding of their backs. With true fighting sprit, Matt brings up one huge foot, slamming it against' Nights gut, doubling over the Hardcore Goth.

Slapping on a Front Facelock, Myers pulls Dace head first o the mat with a DDT.

With a bounce, both men roll over, Myers ends up laying across Dace's body for the cover.

...Kickout!

"A DDT simply isn't going to cut it in this match up I'm afraid." Axis says sombrely.

The fans laugh and cheer on, enjoying the show Dace and Matt are putting on.

Rolling away, Dace reaches under the bottom rope, grabbing a chair, before turning back to face Myers. Turning a second to late, Dace meets the full force of a poke to the chest, which drops him to the mat like a stone, with a sick thud.

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

Seeing victory after such a huge move, Myers makes a cover again.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

Kickout!

NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOO!

"And Dace Night Kicks out! Myers managed to kick out from that coloured clothe shot early in the match, and now Dace is showing to be even tougher kicking out of that finger poke to the chest. I don't believe what I'm seeing here tonight." Shouts Axis.

"You don't believe what you're seeing. How do you think I feel that Axis." King roars in rage.

In frustration, Myers gets back to his feet, and swinging his finger in the air, gets ready to fire one another deadly finger poke. The gasps fill the arena. Dace turns slowly to his side, taking up the chair. Lunches to his feet, Dace hammers the chair straight into Matt Myers' chest with everything he has.

Not evening flinching, Myers fires off the finger poke, but Dace ducks under the move, and this time, brings the chair down somewhere it will hurt, right across the exposed tail of Myers.

Dropping to the back, clutching his tail, trying to cover it up, and protect it, Myers screams in sheer pain.

The crowd is going wild, after such a move. A chair to the chest it nothing, but a chair to the tail will really hurt.

Adding insult to injury, Dace follows up with a painless, but humiliating move. Pulling the barely moving Myers from the mat, Dace runs a arm between his legs, scooping him up, before slamming him down on the back of his neck on the coil of chains.

The fur of Myers' neck protects him, and the chains offer no pain compared to the clothes that he could have landed on.

Standing over his fallen opponent, Dace spreads his arms, signalling for the end of his brutal and gruelling fight.

"I'm not sure if I want to see this one. Dace might bring another tail hold into play. Or those brutal coloured clothes. This doesn't look good for Matt." Axis calls.

Going with will power alone, the chants of the crowd distant to him now, Myers sends his arm rocketing upwards, between Night's legs, and plants his fist into the base of Night's tail, causing him to yell out in surprise and pain.

Then with his other arm, Myers sends Dace tripping forwards, face first into the deadly pile of brightly coloured clothes on the floor.

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

"OH MY GOD!" Screams Axis.

Forcing himself back up from his instead spring loaded legs, Matt roles Dace over, off the pile of colours.

As Dace's face is exposed, we see it has been sliced wide open by these brutal and horrific coloured clothes. Blood is pumping out of his forehead like a geyser.

Placing an arm over Night's chest, Myers makes what has to be the last cover of the match.

"This is over, nothing Dace Night has been through in Horrorcore could give him any chance of kicking out of this one."

"It's coloured clothes. Bits of flimsy little clothe. What is wrong with all of you people here." King screams,

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

........9/10!

.......Kickout!

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

"The crowd can't believe it! I can't believe it! Even after being sent face first into those coloured clothes, Dace Night kicks out again. This man is inhuman. Hr truly is the living spirit of Horrorcore!"

Totally lost for any offence that will put Dace down for the three count, Myers drops the mat in defeat.

And without defeat, Dace inches slowly, bit by bit, pulling himself up off the mat and back to hi feet. Unsteady, having lost a lot of blood, most of which is now soaking the ring, Dace looks around to see Myers on the mat, in dejection.

Stepping behind Matt, Dace drops the biggest bomb he can. Falling to his knees, he sends his whole two hundred and fifty pounds down, knee first, onto Matt Myers' tail.

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Without a scream, a yell or a fight, Myers just flops lifelessly to the mat, totally unmoving, just knocked out totally from the impact on his tail.

With that last effort, Dace Night crumples to the mat as well, still bleeding heavily, fighting to breath.

"I really hope this isn't being shown on TV. I don't know how much trouble we'd be in if we are showing it. This isn't a wrestling match. This is just a psychopath's dreamland. Someone should stop this match right now." Calls Axis.

King opens his mouth to say something, but just can't be bothered to, and blanks out again, trying to shut out the stupidity from his brain.

The referee counts both men down. Doing it because he get paid no matter what the wrestler do in the ring.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......THREE!

......FOUR!

......FIVE!

......SIX!

......SEVEN!

......EIGHT!

......NINE!

There is twitching, and movement.

......And they are up once again.

A pair of right hands sail through the air, and crash against skulls. Quickly followed by another pair, and then another, each time the right hands seem to give no advantage at all.

Throwing his foot out low, Myers tries to catch Dace low, under his guard, but Dace sees it coming. Grabbing the leg between both hands, Dace rushes in, sending Matt off balance, and slamming down onto his back.

Still holding the leg, turns to his side, walking over, dragging Matt's body with him, forcing him to turn over. Stepping back over Myers, Dace kneels down, forcing his knee into the back of Myers' neck, and locking his leg, with the ankle under the arm, into a form of Elevated Single Leg Crab.

Knowing that even with Myers as he is now that is move wont finish him off, Dace reaches down with his free arm, grabbing hold of the tail, and pulling it back.

Myers arches his body in pain, trying to shake the hold and the wait off his tail. Pulling back all the wait, Dace Night ends up kneeling down, leg in one arm, tail in the other, like a Liontamer.

The referee slides into position beside Myers, checking on him, asking him if he wants to give up.

NO! Is the last desperate cry.

Reaching back, Dace wrenches back on the hold, pulling as hard as he can on the tail in his grasp.

The referee asks again.

Myers shakes his head struggles and...

TAP! TAP! TAP!

"And Myers finally taps out. He's had enough."

DING! DING! DING!

"Ladies and Gentleman, here is your winner ... DAAACCCEEE NNNIIIIGGGGHHHHTTTT!"

The arena cheers and calls along as 'Winds of Creation' starts up.

"That was just a joke. A sheer joke. These two must be mad to think they can pull that one. Dace had Myers by the tail. He doesn't even have a tail! It was part of the costume, and he taped out. They must have lost their minds!" King cries in disgust.

Axis just sits back and laughs.

Shaking Myers' hand, Dace stumbles, and falls into the arms on the EMTs that have entered the ring to check up on both men.

"I think the fans got what they wanted to see really King. I mean, it would have been a really bad match if these guys had tried to wrestle in those Kangaroo costumes, after all. And everyone had fun."

As the ring crew starts sweeping up, and washing away all the blood, Dace and Matt are helped out, and lead to the back by the team of EMTs. Still in the Kangaroo suits, the lift their arms to the crowd for one last cheer, before vanishing into the back.

"You're a great liar Axis. That's all I can say." King mumbles.

"I learned from the best King."

Fade out.

February 10, 2003

For the third time, the Smarktron fizzles with static, however, this time the message that flicks up is "Happened a few minutes ago!" and when the static fades out, it reveals the backstage-esque area of the Sydney Opera House, where a simple water cooler stands. A shadow falls over it, followed by the towering form of Janus - holding a styrofoam cup almost gingerly in his hand, he fills it with water and takes a sip.

"Uh....excuse me, sir....."

The giant turns his head at the distinctly feminine sounding voice....and the crowd lets out a loud whooooo as the camera focuses on...

Axis: "Nicole Kidman!"

Nicole slinks up close to Janus, and rubs her finger down the big man's cricket white covered chest... in a sexy voice she speaks...

"You know Janus, darlin..."

Nicole pulls Janus closer to her, and she moves her lips close to those of Janus...

"I've always liked... a biiig, strong... well hung man..."

Nicole moves her hand up Janus's leg... where his crotch still bulges out of those tight cricket whites... and now, it bulges out even more..The giant's hand involuntarily tightens around the cup he's holding, crushing it in an instant, not that he notices as he just stares at Nicole's eyes.....and lips....

"JAAAAANUS! There you are, you farking giant you! Who's the lovely......"

Nicole slides off Janus as the giant half-turns around to see the now totally sober form of Crow coming down the hallway. Upon seeing Ms. Kidman, the Adelaidian slows for a moment, before a wide grin spreads across his face and he quickens his pace.

"Being a bloody ladies man are ya?? Looks like you scored a good one 'ere! Hey, Nicole! Wanna come with me after the show?"

As she turns her attention away from the giant and more to the fucking bird, Janus' facial expression goes from almost bemused to a near 'You will die a slow, painful death' expression. Nicole sexily slinks over to Crow and presses up against him...

"Ya know Markus...."

Nicole plays with Crow's hair... she twists her finger around in his blackened locks.

"I've always liked a mysterious, seeexy... bloody man..."

"Oooh... I love it when chicks called me Markus..."

The grin already present on Crow's face widens, as Nicole slowly rubs her hand up the inner thigh of Crow... Janus still has that look of "KEEEEEEL" but... out of nowhere, a small smirk spreads across his face. Janus has an idea, and he walks off into his locker room...As Nicole and Crowe get better acquainted, the sound of something solid bumping the wall gets the bird's attention - and he lets go of Ms. Kidman as Janus lunges out of the locker room, swinging the cricket bat. Crow's eyes widen and he mouths a "Fark!" before ducking.

The cricket bat swings wide over Crow's head, barely missing Nicole Kidman, and crashes into the water cooler. The fragile bottle on the top, although made of plastic, mysteriously breaks under the impact, splashing all three of them with a very large amount of water. Crow brushes his hair out of his face. Janus flips his hair back. Ms. Kidman shrieks.

"MY SHIRT!"

... The mouths of Janus and Crow fall to the floor... because standing in front of them in the flesh, is a wet through Nicole Kidman - wearing a plain white shirt and no bra. Her nipples can be clearly seen through the wet shirt and both men gawk at the sight before them!

"Damn dude, I wouldn't mind me suckin on dem titties..." says Crow.

Nicole just stands there trying to cover herself up, and all of the sudden Crow shrieks in pain! It's Natasha! She grabs onto the testicles of Crow with her hand... her hand being home to extra long goth fingernails.

"OH GODDAMN!"

"How dare you lay your eyes on another woman! Tonight I'm gonna whip the shit out of you!"

"Janus! Heeelllppp! Help me, Janus!"

Janus watches Natasha pull Crow away by the testicles, waving as Crow departs. Janus turns around to continue talking to Nicole, but to his dismay, she is gone...

"Awww, fucking bird gets all the girls..."

Janus sighs, and walks back into his locker room. Wait, who's that!? A bandaged and bruised Russell Crowe peeks around the corner...

February 10, 2003

As pick pockets slither between the audience, stealthily nabbing wallets from unknowing patrons back pockets, fat Australian men gather around with their families, literally throwing shrimp on the barbie and random Australian marsupials hop through the ringside area, the camera begins a slow zoom in on Axis and the Suicide King, looking at the spectacle around them.

"Well," King says, dusting his hands. "I think we've managed to showcase every Australian stereotype here tonight, we may have alienated much of our Australian viewers, but oh well."

"Wonderful." Axis replies, somewhat peeved. "We're nothing like this you know."

"But isn't it hilarious! Hey Axis you convict! Throw a shrimp on the barbie for me will ya cobber, digger, mate-"

A quick punch to the side of the face shuts King up, as Axis grins like an idiot. In the ring, Funyon stands at the ready, decked out as always in a lavish tuxedo, and as always, has his fingers clutched around a mic, raising it to his lips.

"Ahem..." He coughs, waiting for the rowdy audience to settle down. "Ladies and Gentleman, the following match is a hardcore match! And it is scheduled for one fall, introducing first..."

The lights begin to dim, nothing much can be seen, but a silhouette can be made out, slowly coming out from behind the curtain. His head is held down, looking to the floor, but as he stalks down the ramp, burning flames spurt up from beside him, staying lit, making his identity known to the crowd while in the background, "Three Libras" by a Perfect Circle plays.

"... From Rosslare, Ireland. Standing six foot four inches tall, and weighing in at two hundred and forty eight pounds. Please welcome to the ring... Christian Blackwell!"

The crowd begins to cheer, not a rousing ovation, but they know a good man when they see one, and Australian crowds are some of the best in the world. Blackwell zones out as he climbs the steps to the ring, and slips through the second rope, quietly walking around the ring in mental preparation.

Axis notes, "Blackwell is coming off a... weird loss to Mike Van Scilen. He was taken by surprise and rolled up for the one, two, and three. He admitted to me he was still rusty after being out of the business for so long, and here's hoping he soon finds form."

"Here's not hoping Axis," King retorts. "Blackwell denied Storm a win a few weeks ago, and Storm is my favourite new guy around here. I want Storm to show how tough he is my beating the living hell out of Blackwell! And he is in the perfect setting to do so, a hardcore match!"

Axis agrees and nods, "Well, presumably, a hardcore match would suit the brawler Omega, but we haven't seen much of either man, so we'll just have to wait and see how this all plays out."

Suddenly, the opera house lights die, then burst back to light in a fast strobe, creating a dazzling array of colours. The speakers begin to rumble, intensifying every second, until a loud thunder clap is heard, and a brilliant white explosion rocks the entrance way. Immediately after, "One of a Kind" by Breaking Point hits to jeers from the Australian fans.

Funyon gets back on the mic, "And his opponent! From New Haven, Conneticut. Standing six feet three, and weighing approximately two hundred and forty five pounds. Prepare to be the victim of the storm, prepare yourselves for... Omega Storm!"

More boos are heard as Storm's name is announced, but Omega just smirks and makes a few obscene gestures to the crowd. The Aussie's are about ready to throw their beer cans at Storm, but security prevent them from doing so. Storm just shakes his head as he slides into the ring, jumping to his feet, almost immediately going after Blackwell with the tazer! Blackwell scowls and kicks it out of his hand, and the two stare each other down as the electrical device flies into the crowd and shocks an young kid. The ref interjects, separating the two, as Funyon escapes the ring, not wanting to get involved in the fight. The ref nods to ringside, and the bell sounds to begin the match.

"Ding, ding, ding!"

"Poor Kid, but I'm sure he's fine folks," Axis falsely reports, as the camera turns to the young boy, on the ground twitching, paramedics at his side trying to resuscitate him. Axis quickly drags the camera back and smiles reassuringly, "Anyway! Storm looks fiercely fired up for this one. Blackwell needs to keep cool and not get drawn into a pier six brawl."

"That will be hard Axis, hardcore matches tend to bring out the worst in people, which is why I *know* Storm will prevail," King wisely predicts.

As if hearing King's support, Storm takes the offensive right away, beginning to clobber Blackwell with right hand strikes. Omega backs Blackwell into a corner, interchanging between right and left-hand punches. Storm feels a ton of adrenaline surge through him as he violently whips Blackwell across the squared circle, causing him to hit the turnbuckles and comes bouncing back, stunned momentarily. Storm then charges forward, knocking Blackwell down with a stiff clothesline! Blackwell begins to crawl away, but Storm quickly beats him back down with some boots to the head. The crowd is livid as they watch Storm slides out of the ring, looking under the ring for a weapon!

"Ha! What did I tell you? Storm is hitting hard and fast, surprising Blackwell like Mike did last week, and it seems to be working." King reports.

"Blackwell is a seasoned veteran King," Axis argues. "He won't make the same mistake twice, but he needs to gain a foot hold into this match so Storm doesn't walk all over him."

As Blackwell gets to his feet and steadies himself, Storm pulls out a kendo stick from under the ring, twirling it around in his hand, trying to impress the fans, but his flashy display is only met with a hurl of abuse. Storm grumbles as he turns back to the ring, only to see Blackwell run across the ring and slide across the canvas, knocking him into the guardrail with a baseball slide! Blackwell and Storm both get to their feet, Storm outraged at Blackwell quick recovery and fight back. Storm slides back into the ring, leaping to his feet, ready to strike, but Blackwell takes a step back, allowing him to stand face to face with him.

"I just don't get it," King ponders. "Blackwell needs to beat down Storm as he gets into the ring! He needs to cheap shot him! Give hi a sucker punch or three!"

Axis replies, "Blackwell has a sense of honour King, he plays fair, and plays true."

King grunts, "Humph! There is no such thing as honour in this sport! Its win at all costs, crush all who get in your way! Do you think I defeated the mighty HVille Thugg by fighting with honour and playing fair? Cheat to win, Axis! It's the only way!"

Blackwell invites his opponent to a handshake, even the fans beg him not to, as they know what Storm is like. Omega looks at Blackwell's outstretched hand, and then his face, giving him a sly smile, before extending his own hand and shaking! The fans seems a little stunned by this turn of events, but the moment of fairness is soon over as Storm swings the Kendo stick in his other hand, sending it crashing it down on Blackwell's head! The fans let out a long sigh as Blackwell stumbles backward into the ropes. Storm clutches hold of Christian's hand, whipping him across the ring. As his opponent returns, Storm holds out the kendo stick with one hand, catching Blackwell under the chin, twirling around and grabbing the other end of the stick with his other hand, choking Blackwell with the weapon. Blackwell begins to struggle, Storm pulling back on his opponent's neck, trying to deprive him of air. Blackwell grips onto the kendo stick and quickly flips Storm over with a modified snap mare, turning the tables on Storm, digging his knee into Storm's back and using that as leverage to choke Omega with the kendo stick!

"Both men using the kendo stick to full advantage," Axis says. "But Blackwell shows his quick thinking, despite-"

"Being stupid enough to offer Omega shake his hand!" King cuts in. "You said he was a veteran Axis, and he should know that you can't trust anyone!"

The Irish boy digs his knee into Storm's spine, trying to crush his windpipe, but Storm suddenly disarms Blackwell and strikes him on the head with the kendo stick! Blackwell no sells the blow and rolls backwards, onto his feet. Storm swings the weapon once again, but Blackwell ducks his head and avoids the blow, snatching the stick from Storm's hand, clutching it with both hands and spinning around, hooking the stick around Omega's ankle and flipping him onto the canvas. Storm attempts to get back to his feet, but Blackwell pins him down by the right shoulder, pressing the point of the kendo stick on the joint, causing Storm to yelp in pain.

"But... but... he can't do that! Exploiting Storm's injury from their match two weeks ago!" King cries in an uproar.

Axis just stares at King, "Do you realise how much of a hypocrite you can be!?"

The crowd love to watch Storm, as he writhes in pain, Blackwell, emotionless as he presses down on Storm's shoulder. Omega cringes as he reaches over with his free arm and grabs the kendo stick, slowly lifting it from his shoulder. Storm suddenly jabs the stick upward, poking Blackwell in the throat, allowing himself enough time to recover. Blackwell coughs and splutters, glaring at his opponent, now knowing he does not care about the rules, and will do anything to prevail. Blackwell rushes towards Storm, attempting to strike him with his forearm, but Omega lifts the kendo stick in the way. The impact sends the stick flying out of the ring, as Blackwell keeps pounding on Storm, striking him with elbow's across the jaw. Throwing Storm's arm over his shoulder, Blackwell grabs hold of his tights and lifts him into the air. The crowd begins to cheer as Blackwell holds Storm aloft, kicking and yelling, but Blackwell falls backwards and hits a nice vertical suplex. Blackwell floats over and pins Storm's shoulders to the canvas.

... O n e!

.

... T w - But Storm kicks out, although it pains him to do so, his arm already feeling a little numb. Blackwell climbs to his feet and slides out of the ring, snapping up one of the chairs by ringside! The fans cheer as Blackwell looks at the chair, a hint of a smile on his face. In the ring, Storm is back on his feet, his eyes firmly set on revenge. Omega charges across the ring, diving through the second ropes, landing on Blackwell with a splash!

"Desperation move from Storm..." Axis comments. "He hurt himself in that move, but rest assured, he hurt Blackwell in more ways than one."

"Storm is no coward Axis, like yourself. He's showing Blackwell that whatever he throws at him, whatever dirty tactics he uses!"

Storm crashes on top of Blackwell, sending him rolling across the concrete outside. Storm makes use of the steel chair, swooping on Blackwell, but the Irish boy rolls onto his back, pushing Storm away with his legs. Blackwell jumps to his feet, as Storm throws his the chair. Blackwell, unprepared, catches the chair, stopping it from hitting him, but Storm just smirks as he charges towards Blackwell, kicking the chair back into his face! Blackwell stumbles backward, a spot of blood dropping from his nose. A kid at ringside shouts out to Blackwell, rooting for him. Blackwell wipes away the blood and pulls out a pen, signing the chair and handing it to the child, smiling and messing up his hair. Storm growls and runs towards Blackwell, knocking him down to the concrete with a clothesline! Storm swipes the chair from the kid and pushes him away, lifting the chair into the air and battering Blackwell across the head again and again! Blackwell tries to crawl away, draping himself across the ring apron, but Storm hops towards him and sends the chair crashing down on the back of his neck! The crowd boos Storm, as he plays to them, grabbing Blackwell by the hair and throwing him towards the guard rail, right in front of the rebid fans who hurl abuse towards the wrestler they loathe.

Storm ignores them all and continues punishing Blackwell, lifting him up in a horizontal position, taking one step forward, then another, falling backwards and throwing Blackwell over his head in a fallaway slam, Blackwell's body slamming into the guard rail, crumpling to the concrete. "Oooooh!" The crowd cry, watching on helplessly as Blackwell holds his back, pain surging through his body. Storm, feeling as cocky as ever, helps Blackwell to his feet, slowly sliding him back into the ring. Storm enters after him, standing over his wounded foe. Storm simply drops his knee across Blackwell's throat, grinning as the ref slides over to make the pin.

... O n e!

.

... T w o! But Blackwell gets a shoulder up, and Storm is livid, looking ready to strike the referee, but holds back, angry as he listens to the crowd cheer for Blackwell.

"This is more like it!" King cries happily. "Storm is being ruthless with Blackwell because, after all, winning is everything, eh Axis? And Storm is desperate to win, and desperate men can make for dangerous enemies. I wouldn't want to be Blackwell right now!"

"Desperate men are often blinded by success. Storm can go far, but if he slips up just once, that's all Blackwell will need."

Storm lifts Blackwell to his feet, whipping him into the furthest ropes. Storm attempts to kick Blackwell in the face again, but Blackwell holds his hands in the air and catches Storm's foot. Storm balances on one leg as Blackwell tries to throw him back down to the mat, but Storm keeps pushing forward, standing strong under pressure. Suddenly, Omega reaches for something in his pocket...

Another tazer! Storm thrusts forward, the blue charge narrowly missing Blackwell. He growls and retaliates, throwing Storm to the mat, still holding onto his leg. Blackwell brings his foot down and steps on Storm's groin! King stands up from his seat, appealing desperately, but Axis grabs him and sits him back down. Storm's eyes widen as Blackwell pushes down on Omega, inflicting more pain on that sensitive area. Storm, mouth open in a gasp, manages to swing his bad arm, and give Blackwell a light shock on the leg, enough to send Blackwell packing. Storm climbs to his feet, his left hand holding his right shoulder, still holding the tazer in his right hand. He thrusts towards Blackwell, trying to keep him down for good, but Blackwell dodges the blow. Again Storm tries, but Blackwell grabs his arm this time and flips him over to the mat in a hip toss, grabbing Storm's arm and wrenching it backwards and forwards. Storm fights his way back up to his feet, but the tazer falls out of his grasp and the referee picks it up, grinning at Storm and throwing it away. Storm, his arm becoming number by the second, ducks his head and lifts Blackwell onto his shoulders, running around the ring like a maniac. The crowd watch on as Storm lets Blackwell go from his shoulders, sending him crashing to the mat with an air plane spin toss! Storm tries for a pin once again, hoping to finish the match right here.

... O n e!

.

... T w o!

.

T h - But Blackwell shoots a shoulder up once again!

"Very smart move on Omega Storm's part," Axis admits. "Using a move that didn't require much lifting by the arms, therefore not putting himself under move pain, but you can tell that his arm is hurting him..."

King responds, "I don't see why he just no sells it, I mean, this is all fake right?"

"... Do you do this on purpose?"

Storm looks at the referee, pleading for a three count, but alas, nothing doing. Storm reaches out of the ring and demands another chair from ringside. Storm snatches a chair away from Funyon and turns back to Blackwell, who is just now getting back to his feet. Storm thinks to hell with fancy shit, and swings the chair at Blackwell, hitting him on the forehead! Blackwell stumbles backward, a cut opening up on his head, a generous amount of blood seeping through. Blackwell falls against the ropes and comes stumbling back, as Omega smiles and readies for the finishing blow. As Blackwell returns, Storm jabs him in the stomach with the chair, and then drops it to the canvas, grabbing Blackwell in a standing headscissors. Storm grits his teeth as he tries to lift Blackwell, but his arm gives away!

"Although Blackwell has not done much to injure Storm's arm in this match," Axis begins. "And It is still giving Storm problems!"

Storm tries again, but Blackwell kicks his feet in the air, and Storm is forced to set him back down! The crowd begin to cheer as Storm cringes, pain shooting through his arm, and indeed his entire body, but spurred on by the crowd's reaction, and his desire to win, Storm tries again, lifting Blackwell up by the waist... and lifting him onto his shoulders! Storm spreads Blackwell's arms apart in a crucifix position, setting him up for the...

"Omega Cloudburst!" King shouts ecstatically. "Storm has the chair set up ready, if he hits this, by golly miss molly, it's all over red rover!"

"..."

"Hey, it's not my line, I have to say it!"

Storm shakes as he tries to keep Blackwell aloft, calling on all his reserves, but Blackwell manages to flip off Storm's back! Grabbing Storm by the waist, Blackwell attempts to lift him up in a German Suplex, but Omega low blows him! Storm turns around and, in his frustration and anger, tries to deliver a sickening blow with his elbow, spinning around, attempting a Roaring Elbow! Blackwell, as he has done so many times before, catches Storm's arm and twirls behind his back, hooking the two arms in a chickenwing position! Blackwell pushes Storm forward, turning around and driving his head into the mat face first, right onto the chair! Blackwell readies himself, then flips himself over into a bridge position, completing the Cattle Mutilation

"A chair assisted Cattle Mutilation!" Axis yells. "Surely he can't hold out much longer, his face is grinding against that chair, and Blackwell is pulling on his arms, I can't imagine the pain he is going through!"

King looks down at Axis' bad leg, "Oh I bet you can." He replies with a sly grin.

"I really do hate you."

"Haha! I'm ain’t buying you a beer after the sh- Wait a minute! Storm can't give up! Fight it man, fight it! Don't let him win again!"

But King's motivational speech doesn't work a second time, as the referee hears Storm shouts, "I give! I give up!" and Blackwell immediately lets go, as the referee lifts his tired arm into the air, and Funyon announces...

"The winner of this match via submission... CHRISTIAN BLACKWELL!"

"No!" King shouts in vain. "Storm goes down again, and all because of Blackwell's evil use of... psychology! He's dangerous, you've seen what he's done to Omega's arm! He could do that to anyone!"

"Best of luck to him, I just hope you can meet him in the ring one day King," Axis replies with a smirk. "Storm just couldn't take any more, as Blackwell forces the submission, when only thirty seconds earlier he was looking down the jaws of defeat, but he pulled through to take out his second win!"

"Let's not forget Storm Axis. No matter if he lost, he showed something today, that he has the strength, the determination and the skill to last it with anyone. Just wait till his arm is healed, then it will be a different story!" King claims.

As Blackwell walks up the ramp, the Aussie fans cheering and shouting "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie! Oi! Oi! Oi!" for seemingly no reason, Storm writes in pain in the ring, rolling around from side to side as he holds his arm, but his eyes are firmly fixed on Blackwell, and plans for their next encounter...

"Know what's next King?" Axis asks.

"The ball crawl!"

"Correct. We've been looking forward to this all week long, and it's finally here! The first SWF match to ever take place... in a ball crawl pit! This will be a match to remember, so don't go away folks, there's more Wrath after this break!"

And we fade to commercial, one final close in shot of Blackwell, a bloodied lip, a bloodied nose, a bloodied forehead, but his hopes high for the future...

February 10, 2003

(Sometimes, you can’t quite grasp it, but you know the feeling is there. You know that your mind scream at you to fight it, but you just don’t care. This demon tearing you into little shreds, can you fight back? Will you fight back? What if this twisted thing has made you approach the brink of self-destruction? But what would you do if that demon were you?)

****

(The camera slowly glows back to life, revealing Ben Hardy giving the camera a cheesy grin. He holds a microphone up to his mouth and speaks very naturally in front of the camera; “Hopefully we can snatch a quick talk with Matt Myers.” But suddenly an unidentifiable sound echoes through the corridors and everyone glances around. The sound is recognizable, but no one is able to identify it. A few more seconds pass and a shadow overcasts on the bend of the hallway. Ben and the SJL crew shuffle towards the shadow that engulfs around the bend).

“Excuse, sir… sir?” Ben Hardy calls out, and suddenly the shadow is revealed. The Insane Luchador, Andrew Rickmen, sits in a wheelchair. “Christ…” Ben mutters looking at IL whose head is cocked slightly to the side and he grins up at Hardy.

“Yes? Ben?” Andrew crackles and then coughs a few times, and glances down at his normal attire.

“Wha-what happened?” Hardy asks what everyone wonders.

“Oh, this, nothing really… but when I’m done…” IL pauses to shoot a smirk at the camera. “Let’s just say that I and my opponents will need to get the feel for this invention.” He finishes his reasons as he pats his wheelchair. Ben’s baffled face makes Andrew give a higher pitch laugh that has resemblance to Tyler Durden’s and he slowly wheels away. “Excuse me lads, but I have souls to save and souls to take.” Those words echo while everyone mumbles about what the hell happened.

February 10, 2003

The camera revives itself, revealing a small proportion of the SJL employees who follow the famous cameraman Gus, down a rather dark corridor. They slowly walk down the hallway while all the fans at homes and in the arena stare, wondering what’s up.

“Apparently someone has a surprise in store and we’re going to be there firsthand. Not to mention soon we’re approaching our exclusive main event… and the Crawl Brawl…” Axis begins bragging and then ends with his voice trailing.

But as the hallways get an even creepier vibe the crew stalks forward very slowly. Suddenly a door swings open and everyone in the hallway shrieks and leaps back. But an unknown jobber passes by, but then a sudden yell is heard. The camera whirls around to see the two fallen men and a stocky man standing in front of him with a ski mask. A muffled voice utters the words slowly, “Gus, give me the camera.”

Gus shakes his head no.

“Oh great, nothing attack… what does it matter? Even Ash attacked Gus.” King jaunts.

“Right, but think of poor Gus, he’s a strong man for saying no.” Axis says with traces of sarcasm.

The man shakes his head sadly and slowly lifts a little bit of his mask, revealing a chin and lower lip. The man leans over and eerily whispers into Gus’ ear. Gus face flushes white and his eyes open wide.

“Come on Gus, I really like this camera.” The man slaps the bulky equipment out of Gus’ hand and it flops onto its side. Still showing the action.

“I’d get security if this didn’t garner such ratings…” Axis mutters out loud and all the heads turn to him, who blushes. “I really shouldn’t have said that.”

The camera only shows Gus and suddenly a hand flies out and slaps Gus across the chin, flinging blood and, perhaps, a tooth. Gus groans as his tongue runs over the warm blood and the man grabs the camera while he kicks Gus in the ribs for good measurements. The man whistles away and clicks off the camera, causing the screen to fade away…

February 10, 2003

The screen fades back into an outer shot of the beautiful Sydney Opera House, the moonlight reflects off the landmark’s curvy architecture and water abound. A cut to the inside of the opera house and a huge, roaring and uncountable of fans can be seen. Since this is Australia, hundreds upon hundreds of drunken fans run around the aisles causing an unspeakable amount of ruckus. A swivel of various camera actions reveal more and more Australian culture, near ringside a pack of aboriginal men and women playing various musical instruments (including the famed didgeridoo) sit in a circle around a blazing fire. The camera slowly pans to the commentary position where Australia’s favourite son, Axis sits next to the gambling man, The Suicide King. Axis facing The Suicide King with that lovable blank angered expression we’ve all become accustomed to. The Suicide King babbles on...

“Axis man! That party you threw me last night was fantastic! That hot blonde girl you hooked me up with was the best lay I’ve ever had,” exclaims King in a fit of glee.

“That girl was a hermaphrodite, you know?” replies Axis.

“....................”

“Annnndddddd welcome back fans to the Smartmarks Junior Leagues Wwwwooooorrrrrrllllddddd Tour! We are currently wrecking shit up in the city of Sydney, right here in Australia!” yells Axis.

“..........”

“What a fantastic and brutal HARDCORE match we just saw between the two up and comers Blackwell and Omega Storm. Now, we have a little treat for our Australian fans... the next matchup between some great talent home to the SJL... King?”

“...”

King just stares at Axis.

“Alright... Crow, the Antichrist Superstar, Hollywood Spike Jenkins and Insane Luchador will compete against each other in.... wait for it, wait for it... the SJL Ball Crawl match! You know those areas at McDonalds playgrounds, with all those little multicoloured balls? Well, once all three competitors enter the ring, a ten-foot high, hard thick plastic barrier will entrap the ring and the wrestlers inside. Then, and this is the good part, thousands upon thousands of those plastic little balls will be dropped into the ring! And every... umm... some amount of minutes that I forget, more balls will fall! For a wrestler to be become the winner, he must exit the ring and have both his two feet hit the floor. King, what do you think of this match up?”

“OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO BLOODY KILL YOU!! NO WONDER IT FELT LIKE SHE WAS INSIDE ME!” screams King at the top of his lungs.

“Don’t you mean he?” cheekily responds Axis.

“AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!1” yells King.

“Heh heh, come on boys, let’s get this baby rolling...” says Axis.

...

“WAIT FOR CHAOS! WAIT FOR WARFARE! AT THE POINT OF NO RETURN! BLEED FOR MONEY! BLEED FOR JUSTICE! GOING STRAIGHT TO HELL WITH A WOUNDED SSOOOUUUULLLLLL!!!!!”

The snarling, almost evil words of Soilwork’s Natural Born Chaos blow apart the Opera House’s speakers; the heavy, groove guitar riff begins and the crowd let out a glorious cheer for Crow!

“The crowd showing their support for the Australian born and bred Crow, for it is here in Sydney that he won the ICW World Championship!” reports Axis.

Crow appears from behind the entrance curtain and appears on the SJL Wrath stage, lit cigarette hanging from his lips and holding a bag full of something in his right hand. A shirt is lain across the chest of Crow, covering up all the bandages present on his back. He gives his crotch a little bit of nudge, Natasha’s handy... or should I say fingernail work having its effects on Crow’s poor crown jewels.

“Crow touching himself up a bit there... I wonder if Natasha made those balls multicoloured,” says Axis, laughing at his own little joke.

“AHAHAHAHA, you’re funny aren’t ya!?” sarcastically exclaims King.

“Aaahhh, go fuck a hermy,” replies Axis.

Crow begins to walk down to the ring... he takes a drag, and lifts his cigarette up to the crowd!

“SSSMMMMMOOOOOKKKKKKOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!” yells the crowd in response to Crow’s gesture.

Crow choofs down the remainder of his cigarette before approaching the ring, and puts it out on the ring post. The as always sharply dressed Funyon brings his microphone to his lips...

“Entering the ring, originally from Adelaide, Australia and now hailing from Anchorage, Alaska! Standing at six foot 2 inches and weighing in at 231 pounds! He is THE ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR! This is CCCRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!” booms Funyon.

Crow steps inside the ring, and drops his plastic bag to the mat. A thunk of something hard against the mat can he heard as he ascends to the top rope and throws his arms out to his side. A powerful visual is seen as Crow performs the crucifix pose to thousands of screaming fans. Crow jumps off the top rope, picks up his plastic bag and walks over to the opposing corner. He awaits his opponents...

“Crow again wearing a shirt tonight, not wanting to risk anymore damage to that already extremely damaged back. King, are you going to say anything?” reports Axis.

“I hate you...” angrily whispers King.

King Of Your Own World by the band Smugface begins to play through the opera house speakers, and gold sparks fly up on the Wrath stage! “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins steps out from behind the entrance curtain, striding into the golden sparks. Jenkins stands stationary into the sparks as they bounce on and beyond his body. Spike breathes in some of the sparks and exhales through his nose.... he steps though the sparks, and they die down.

“On his way to the ring, from Hollywood, California, standing at the height of six foot one inch and weighing in at two hundred and twenty two pounds. This is HHHHOOOLLLLYYYYWWWOOOOOOOODDDD SPIKE JENKKKKIINNNNSSSS!!” booms Funyon, with that deep hollering voice.

Jenkins walks down the entranceway... taking quick looks at various sections of the audience, they all make Spike feel right at home... by booing him with Aussie Bogan passion.

“The Australian crowd showing their love for Hollywood Spike Jenkins...” reports Axis.

Spike walks up the steel steps and climbs under the second rope into the ring. He looks across the ring at Crow, who is slouching back in the opposing corner. Crow stares right back at Jenkins not experiencing any sort of discomforts from the piercing eyes of Spike Jenkins. In fact, a grin appears on Crow’s face as he leans forward and gives Jenkins the one-fingered salute!

“What!? How dare Crow do that to the greatest wrestler in world!?” cries King.

“Oh, he finally speaks...” replies Axis.

“I still hate you,” responds King.

“I felt the hate rise up in me, kneel down and clear the stone of leaves. I wonder out where you can’t see, inside my shell I wait and bleed...”

The opening vocal lines of Slipknot’s “Wait And Bleed” explode onto the sound system in the Sydney Opera House and darkness falls upon the arena. Drunken wailing can be heard and some screams escape from the mouths of women and children.

“Remember about the pyrotechnics, King, don’t let them scare you tonight...” says Axis..

A singular strobe light begins to flash and an explosion of pyrotechnics lights up the arena! Colours of black and red burst and swirl through the air! The crowd ooohhhs, aahhhhs and cheers for the spectacular display.

“Nothing scares me now...” replies King.

The pyrotechnics stop and the lights come back on at a dim, the Insane Luchador Andrew Rickmen charges through the entrance with chair in hand! He charges down the entranceway and slides into the ring, bouncing onto his feet and hopping round.

“All men are in the ring now, King, and it looks like the plastic cage is being lowered from the ceiling,” reports Axis.

“Way to point out the obvious, Axis...” replies King.

The thick plastic cage is lowered and locked around the ring. It stands about ten feet high off the mat, and has no handholds for the wrestlers to use as assistance.

“The only way for a wrestler to climb out is by stepping onto the turnbuckle or on the top rope and pulling himself up to the top of the plastic wall and jumping onto the floor. This is because there are no handholds to grasp onto,” explains Axis.

From the base and upwards the cage is 2 inches thick plastic, though a foot down from the top, the thickness is 6 inches thick, giving the wrestlers something to stand on.

“Ahaha... this is gonna be the best bit... RELEASE THE BALLS!!” queries King.

“That’s certainly what happened last night with you, eh King?” replies Axis.

A loud noise echoes throughout the arena and thousands and thousands AND thousands of plastic balls fall from the roof!

“AND THE BALLS HAVE BEEN RELEASED!” exclaims Axis.

Crow, Insane Luchador and Spike Jenkins all look up to see an attack of BALL heading straight towards them! All three men cower over forward attempting to shield their bodies from the onslaught created by the thousands and thousands of balls travelling down through the air.

“Ahahaha!!!” laughs King, loving every moment of it.

The balls stop falling.

“And it looks like the balls have stopped falling. Depth... be round 2, 3 feet, King?” queries Axis.

“I’d say that’s about right... reckon they’d be able to move in that?” replies King.

“I wouldn’t say freely move, but they’ll be able to sift their way through and wrestle,” reports Axis.

All three wrestlers stare at each other, in their respective corners. Intensity so thick you could cut it with a scalpel and gazes so powerful a normal man would cower in fear. Not these men, these men stand tall.

“All three competitors omitting an intense aura here...” says Axis.

Hollywood Spike Jenkins makes the first movement of the match up as he tries to escape the plastic cage by climbing onto the turnbuckle! Insane Luchador of course isn’t going to let Jenkins win the match at the very beginning pursues him. Crow on the other hand stays in his corner, rummaging through the thousands of multicoloured plastic balls.

“What the hell is Crow doing?” asks King.

Rickmen launches his arm at the back of Jenkins, grabbing onto his black tank top and pulling him down from the top rope! Spike lands on the balls and sinks down onto the mat. Crow, finding what he was looking for, empties the plastic bag he brought to the ring in front of him.

“Cricket balls! The plastic bag was full of cricket balls, and they are hard balls, King!” exclaims Axis.

IL turns his attention to Crow... in response to IL’s attention Crow picks up a cricket ball and threatens to throw it! Rickmen just laughs, thinking that it’s just another plastic ball... Crow throws it at the face of IL and BANG! Down he goes into the balls! The hard leather of the cricket ball creating a large thunk sound as it connects with Insane Luchador’s forehead!

“That was a plastic ball, Axis! Why did he go down like that!?” asks King.

“That was a cricket ball, King! That thing is just as hard, if not harder than a baseball!” shouts Axis laughing.

The crowd laughs along with Axis, but not for long as “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins is on his feet! Crow charges at Spike, but Spike is quick on his feet and through the balls as he dodges out of the way at the last minute! Crow runs headfirst into the turnbuckle and stumbles back stunned, seeing an opportunity quickly ascends to the turnbuckle, show casing his speed. Spike Jenkins lunges off the top rope horizontally and hits the chest of Crow!

“A crossbody from the greatest wrestler in the world, Axis! Did you see the magnificence of that move!?” yells King.

Crow falls down into the balls but pushes Jenkins off!

“NO! Cause Crow just countered out!” exclaims Axis.

“WHAT!? HOW!?” responds King, shocked and dismayed!

Both wrestlers are quick back onto their feet, Crow latches onto the arm of Jenkins and flips over! Arm drag! Spike’s body flies down into the balls and many out of them pop up from the impact. Spike is up hastily though and arm drags Crow over! Crow arms drags Spike! Except this time he holds and wrenches “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins’ elbow back in an armbar.

“Isolation of a body part in a Ball Crawl match? You got to be kidding,” conveys King.

Insane Luchador gets to his feet, although a little shakily clutching at his forehead. He sees the action happening in the ring and decides to get back into the fray! He sifts his way through the plastic balls and launches his body horizontal, hitting Crow in the back with a dropkick. Crow lets go of the armbar as pain shoots through his back.

“And Crow lets go of the hold as his back his weak spot, still unhealed from the punishment suffered in his hardcore match against Insane Luchador,” reports Axis.

Insane Luchador runs through the balls, albeit not as fast as he usually would, springs onto the top rope and springboards off! He twists and somersaults in the air! He kicks Crow in the back of the head with his heel, but still manages to land on his feet!

“Insane Luchador pulling out the high flying moves for this one,” says Axis.

Jenkins is quick to take to Insane Luchador and knocks him down with a super kick! Spike though, isn’t gonna stop there, he picks IL up and applies a front face lock. Spike backs into the ropes, steps up onto the first rope and up to the third - Spike let’s go of the face lock as he leaps off the ropes and drops his leg on the back of IL’s neck. Jenkins puts all weight down and drives IL’s head into the pit of ball!

“ROCKER DROPPER! BEST MOVE EVER!” exclaims King.

“Jenkins just drove Insane Luchador’s head right into the balls and down into the mat!” reports Axis.

Spike recovers from pulling off his move and looks to escape the ring, he climbs up the turnbuckle and tries pull himself out of the cage! NO! Crow grabs his tank top, throws Spike back down into the balls and tries to get out himself! NO! Spike recovers and pulls back on Crow’s shirt! Crow flies back into the balls as well! Hollywood Spike Jenkins tries to get out again and has almost pulled himself up but no! Crow gets the low blow on Jenkins!

“Ooooh! Crow stops Jenkins escaping with a nasty low blow, and that’ll stop any man! Including me, Axis!” reports King.

“Both Crow and Jenkins trying to get out of the ring, but foiling each other’s plan... hey, what’s Crow going to do here?” asks Axis.

Spike is holding his groin on the turnbuckle as Crow climbs up onto the second ropes, positioning his left leg on the left second rope and his right leg on the right second rope! He applies a waist lock on Jenkins! The eyes widen on “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins face as he desperately tries to grab onto the plastic cage wall!

“No luck there, Spike! No hand holds! Ahaha!” exclaims Axis.

Crow heaves Spike Jenkins overhead and drives his head, neck and upper chest into the 2, 3 foot deep pit of balls!

“GERMAN SUPLEX! We saw Crow use that type of move off the top rope in his match against Insane Luchador on Crimson, but this time, no glass for Spike to go through!” reports Axis, excited by the move, cause ya know, he gets excited over those things.

“I’m almost being deafened by this crowd, they exploded for that move, Axis! SHUT UP DAMMIT!” yells King, covering his poor fragile ears.

All three men are down in the ring, submerged in the pit of ball. Insane Luchador is starting to stir, recovering from the Rocker Dropper he received at the hands of Spike Jenkins. His forehead being the focus of attack, first the cricket ball and then the Rocker Dropper! He uses the ropes to get himself onto his feet, and seeing Crow plus Jenkins on the ground starts to ascend out the cage!

“The Insane Luchador Andrew Rickmen has got a chance here, King! The other men are down from the german suplex, this is the best time to escape the cage!” yells Axis.

Insane Luchador climbs onto the top rope (not the turnbuckle) and pulls himself up onto the top of the cage!

“Victory is near for Rickmen, he just needs to jump off and he’s got it!” exclaims Axis.

NOOOO! Crow launches himself up to the top rope and pulls IL’s leg out from under him! The crowd groans in sympathy for IL’s crown jewels as he falls and crotches himself on the thick plastic cage!

“HARDCORE!! HARDCORE!!!” screams King.

“IL so close to victory but Crow pulls his leg out! And now pulls him off the top of the cage into the balls!” reports Axis.

Insane Luchador falls off the cage and onto the balls, holding his crotch and breathing deeply. Crow sees victory in his sights... he climbs up the ropes onto the top rope... but a stumbling Spike falls onto the ropes causing Crow to also crotch himself!

“First the claws of Natasha, and now the ropes... I struggle to imagine what Natasha is going to do to those things tonight!” says King, trying to sound serious, but somewhat failing as a faint laughter can be heard in his voice.

Crow sits crotched on the top rope, a few feet away from the nearest turnbuckle – a wrenching expression appears on his face. Spike uses the ropes to regain his balance; he turns to Crow and throws a punch at his face. He throws another and Crow slumps back a little... but still is holding straight – crotched on the rope.

“Insane Luchador still lies in the multicoloured balls clutching at his groin while Jenkins looks to inflict some punishment upon Crow...” reports Axis.

Jenkins climbs the turnbuckle and turns so he is facing the crotched Crow; he leaps off the turnbuckle! “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins latches his legs around the neck of Crow and swings himself back into the ring area! Crow and Spike crash into the balls and canvas with an wall shaking thud – balls fly everywhere!

“Top Rope Hurricanrana from “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins, and that move has taken a lot from both wrestlers! Insane Luchador though, he’s up on his feet!” exclaims Axis.

“It has to end now, it has to....” screams King, before stopping his commentary because of a big bang.

MORE BALLS FALL!!! THE SECOND LOT OF BALLS FALL! Insane Luchador’s head quickly turns up and a cry exits from his mouth.

“OOOHH FUCK!!!” yells IL.

The balls land and completely cover Insane Luchador, Crow and Spike Jenkins!

“So many balls, Axis! Look at these balls, Axis!” exclaims King.

“I should have told you to look for those balls last night...” replies Axis, grinning at the success of his prank.

All three wrestlers are stuck underneath an uncountable amount of balls. Muffled male voices can be heard through the pool of plastic.

“That pit of balls must be around five... six feet in depth now, I think the possibility of actual wrestling have been thrown out the window, King!” reports Axis.

“I’d like to throw you out a window, you freakin’...” says King trailing off into a mumble.

The three wrestlers all manage to swim their way to the top of the pool of balls, all in the exact same spot they were when they started the match. They stare holes through each other...

“This reminds me too much of the beginning of the match when the first lot of balls fell, will Crow throw a plastic ball at the head of Insane Luchador again!? Place your bets!” yells King.

King is wrong, on the contrary Insane Luchador grabs an armful of plastic balls, red, blue, green and pink! He starts throwing them at Crow and Spike Jenkins! One of those balls, the red ball, makes contact with the nose of Spike Jenkins!

“NO! Insane Luchador is thrower of ball this time and that one just clocked Spike in the nose!” exclaims Axis.

Crow on the other hand, dives into the pool of plastic balls avoiding the harmful blue ball! Rickmen throws another at Spike, the green ball and it hits him in the nose again! Jenkins is getting a little angry and bang! Another in the nose, the pink ball!

“That’s it!” yells Spike.

“And Spike has had enough of the onslaught of ball and is taking it to Insane Luchador!” reports Axis.

“Look out for the greatest wrestler in the world is pissed!” exclaims King.

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins swims through the balls in an attempt to strangle and beat Insane Luchador, but all the way balls are hitting him in the face!

“Eeep!”

*CLONK!*

“Goddamn!”

*CLONK*

“Ow, oh you’re so dead!”

Spike eventually gets over to IL, who is just laughing, even though Spike is punching him in the head! Insane Luchador finally decides to fight back after taking a beating and does it swiftly with bone crunching headbutt!

“Ooooh! Brutal headbutt from Insane Luchador! That sounded sick,” conveys Axis.

Spike’s head falls back... but... his eyes bulge out of their sockets and he screams..

“AAHH ME CODS!!1”

“What the hell are CODS!?” asks King.

Insane Luchador’s eyes then damn near almost explode out of his sockets, but he just yells in pains, cause he’s like insane and enjoys the pain... or something along those lines. Crow surfaces from the plastic ball pit with a cricket ball in hand!

“Crow’s come out of there with a little insurance! Another cricket ball!” says Axis.

Crow pushes the heads of Jenkins and Rickmen down into the pool!

“WHOOPS! GRABBED THE WRONG BALLS!” exclaims Crow.

The crowd cheers and cheers for Crow as he puts his arms in the air and salutes the crowd!

“Axis, look! Look! It’s Russell Crowe! That wanker is back!” screams King.

Russell Crowe is running down the Wrath stage to the ring with a Jeff Hardy stylez ladder, meaning bloody high!

“What the hell is he doing, King!? Oh look at this, what a clown! Must be looking for revenge for what Crow and Janus did to him earlier!” says Axis.

“Janus was the one who smacked him both times, why isn’t he going after him!?” queries King.

“I don’t think he’s that stupid, King!” replies Axis.

“What!? This IS Russell Crowe we’re talking about! His female friend bailed him out of a fight!” responds King.

Russell Crowe sets up the ladder up against the cage and climbs his way up! Crow swims over to the same part of the cage, trying to get out! But Russell Crowe pushes him back into the pool of plastic!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” screams the crowd.

Russell Crowe gets on top of the cage and raises his arms in the air in victory. He taunts at the crowd, and they boo heavily in response - since no Australians like Russell Crowe, he’s a disgrace, mate.

“Oh what a pathetic display here, Russell Crowe ruining Crow’s chance to win the match... he’s so pleased with himself,” says Axis.

Crow! Like a man standing back up from the dead rises out of the pool of plastic balls and throws a ripper of an arm over and releases the cricket ball! The cricket ball pierces through the air and...

*SMACK!*

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

The cricket ball makes contact with some more balls... Russell Crowe’s balls! The drunken yobbos in the crowd roar with approval!

“Russell Crowe will not have children! And he hits the floor with a tremendous thud! Eat that, ya lousy gladiator bastard,” remarks Axis.

Insane Luchador and “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins are both screaming towards Crow! All three men rush to the top of the cage!

“They’re all on the top of the cage, Axis! What the hell is gonna happen!?” screams King.

All three men grab onto each other... AND THEY FALL TWELVE, THIRTEEN FEET INTO THE FLOOR! The referees call for the bell!

“What the!? Who won, King!?” asks Axis.

“SPIKE WON! NO, IL WON! NO IT WAS CROW WHO WON! Dammit, I don’t know! Where’s the replay when you need it!” shouts King.

The referee nearest to the fall speaks on his microphone backstage, and a replay appears on the Smarktron. A slow motion clip of the fall shows a mangle of bodies... and whose feet or body touches the ground first...

.

..

...

The crowd gasps.

...

..

.

“CROW’S BODY HIT THE GROUND FIRST, HE WINS! HE WINS!” screams Axis.

The crowd cheers for Crow and his victory, and they all throw their beer bottles in the air! Many unlucky ones feel the force of a glass bottle hit their head, but all is good because Crow won and it’s time for celebration!

“So King, what did you think of that match?” asks Axis.

“It would have been better if I was in it,” replies King smuggly.

“Of course...” says Axis, rolling his eyes.

All three men lie bruised and broken on the floor outside the ring, the referees watching the outside of the ring help Crow to his feet (ignoring Spike and IL)... and his hand is raised, officially giving Crow the W for this match up!

“WAIT FOR CHAOS! WAIT FOR WARFARE! AT THE POINT OF NO RETURN! BLEED FOR MONEY! BLEED FOR JUSTICE! GOING STRAIGHT TO HELL WITH A WOUNDER SSOOOOUUULLLLLL!”

Soilwork’s Natural Born Chaos bursts through the Opera House speakers and the crowd headbangs along with the thrashy tune!

“The referee raising Crow’s hand, and I think Crow wants a smoke...” reports Axis.

Crow walks over to the timekeeper’s table and gets his deck of Dunhill Reds, he lights one up... and a face of satisfaction appears. Crow plays to the roaring Australian crowd, kicking the dead Russell Crowe! The losing wrestlers, IL and Jenkins walk to the back, tired and strained. Wrath fades out to a commercial break...

February 10, 2003

The camera scans the Sydney, Australia crowd, showing all of their faces as they scream and roar, trying to get on the camera. Some of them brandish signs cheering on their hometown hero, Janus, including a small Australian woman who holds up a sign proclaiming “I’ll Open My Door for Its God.” The announcers, Axis and Suicide King, chat idly, the cameras shifting gears and focusing on them as the twosome looks on the cameras with stereo smiles as our audio picks them up.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Axis says, “Welcome to SJL Wrath, LIVE from Sydney, Australia, home of the greatest people in the world!” Axis stands up on the commentary desk and leads the crowd in an “AUSTRALIA ROCKS!” chant, much to the disgust of the Suicide King, who maintains his sitting position.

“That’s right,” King says, “We’re live from this delightful s**thole and we’re proud of it! Tonight marks show number three on our World tour, and this one will crown a new SJL Heavyweight champion! In one corner, we have Janus, who is seven feet tall, three hundred fifty pounds – he’s the epitome of monster, folks. On the other side, we have Mike Van Siclen. Van Siclen is a three-year veteran of the ring, having wrestled under the Snow Demon and Jeremy Miller personas previously. Tonight, he gets yet another chance to pick up the gold that has eluded him for so long. Two men will step into that ring, with no-dq, no interference. Just two men, wrestling to see who is the best, for the most important gold in the league, the Smarks Junior Leagues Heavyweight title.”

Axis sniffles. “It’s nights like this that make me miss the ML.”

King pats Axis on the shoulder. “Me too, Axis. Me too.”

“But this is no time to worry about that!” Axis’ voice picks up and he continues to speak. “Tonight, no disqualifications, no interference, for the S-J-L HEAVYWEIGHT Title! Let’s send it over to Funyon to get the ball rolling!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your MAIN EVENT! The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall, and it is a NO DISQUALIFICATIONS match for the SMARKS JUNIOR LEAGUES… HEA-VY-WEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!”

“Introducing first…”

The four quick cymbals and even quicker guitar riff that begins “Damage Done” by Dark Tranquility blasts throughout the arena, as the lights go out and blue strobes begins to flash in time with the music.

“Weighing in at two-hundred, thirty-seven pounds!”

Mike Van Siclen steps onto the ramp, his arms extending in a bent crucifix under his acid-green jacket.

“He hails from Harrison, Illinois…”

He spins around the on the ramp, grinning like a madman as he breaks out of his spin cycle and steps cockily down the entrance ramp, sliding into the ring and extending his arms to the side, dropping his arms and letting his jacket slide off and to the mat. The referee, hassled, picks it up, as Mike motions with his hands for the crowd to give him more boos.

“He is Spectacular and he is MIIIIIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIIIC-LEEEEEEEEEEEEN!”

The crowd explodes in boos as the music continues, Van Siclen going to his corner and stretching as the camera zooms out, so that the blue strobes shining on the ring and crowd – all of it can be viewed. The yellow-outlined white text “TALE OF THE TAPE” flashes across the screen, accompanied by Axis’ voice saying “Tonight’s Tale of the Tape is brought to you by Snickers® – Hungry? Grab a Snickers®!”

The familiar yellow bars slam into place, Janus’ face occupying the upper left hand corner of the screen with his stats slightly above the center of the screen, while Mike’s face takes the lower right hand corner of the screen, his stats directly below Janus’. Axis and King comment on the numbers shown to them.

“As you can see, King, Janus holds a whopping ten-inch height advantage on the amazing one, him being 7’2” while Van Siclen is only 6’4”. Janus also outweighs Mike by a hundred pounds and change, the big man weighing in at 350 while Mike holds steady at 237. In the reach department Janus has an advantage as well, his 73” reach dwarfing Mike’s 60” reach. And in the bench press department it is no contest, with Mike benching only 430 pounds to Janus’ whopping 700.”

“Yes, but Axis, what this chart fails to take into consideration is agility, a statistical category where, no matter who you are, you have to give Mike Van Siclen the advantage. He could do a 40 in less than six seconds – Janus would be winded. That’s where Mike will have the advantage, and he’ll have to use it in this match if he wants to have any chance of winning.”

King and Axis’ discussion is interrupted by the lights going out all across the arena, plunging the place into darkness. Nothing happens for several moments, until the start of Fear Factory's "Resurrection" can be heard. On either side of the rampway, blue pyros begin to fountain into the air as the lyrics start, along with Funyon’s introduction, as both have to fight to be heard with each other, as well as the rising cheers of the hometown crowd.

“AND THE OPPONENT!”

"Consumed with memories,

That preceded today.”

“WEIGHING IN… THREE HUNDRED… FIFTY POUNDS!”

”Given a chance to bereave

Life that's slipping away!"

“HE HAILS… SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA!”

The crowd goes batshit, the heavy guitar chords hitting and a spotlight focusing onto the stage entrance as Janus strides out from behind the curtain, tossing his hair from his face and stalking towards the ring. Each blue pyro goes out as he passes it, and he climbs into the ring slowly and stoically.

“LAST JL MEMBER… MAGNIFICENT SEVEN!”

The crowd’s cheering builds to a crescendo as he stands in the center of the ring, lit only by the spotlight......and lifts his arms into the air.

*BOOM*

Blue flame-pyros explode from the turnbuckles, Mike hopping away from the corner and shooting Janus an icy stare as the lights come back on and "Resurrection" fades out as Janus begins to warm up.

“HE IS JANUS!”

The crowd roars even louder as referee Nick Soapdish, satisfied with both men in the ring, signals for the bell.

-=: Ding Ding Ding :=-

The crowd roars as Janus and Van Siclen come out of their respective corners, Van Siclen shaking his hands out and adjusting his wrist tape while Janus just circles around, intimidating Van Siclen without even moving much. Finally, the two are satisfied with their feeling-out process and charge each other, Janus taking the advantage with a huge knee to the gut. He quickly grabs Mike in a headlock and catches Van Siclen with another knee to the gut, Mike bouncing into the air like a rag doll as Janus flexes his muscles in the headlock and gives Mike another knee to the gut. Van Siclen again explodes upwards, and Janus, being bored of this, whips Mike into the corner. Van Siclen hits limply, and sticks there, as the commentators comment on what they’ve just seen.

“Janus absolutely DOMINATING early,” Axis crows, “and these Australians love the way their hometown boy is decimating Mike Van Siclen.”

“I’m sure they are,” King grumbles, “but I’m not. The big test for Van Siclen will be how long he can hold on, because Janus will tire soon enough, and at that point Van Siclen will have to still be fresh so that he can take over.”

Janus lumbers into the corner menacingly, much to the delight of the crowd. Van Siclen, seeing Janus coming, turns to one side and hops over the ropes, jumping off of the apron and grabbing his ribs a bit as he tries to catch a break. Janus sees this from a mile away and lumbers out of the ring himself, the crowd roaring for the impending chase. Van Siclen, not knowing what the cheers are for, turns around… to see Janus walking towards him, slowly, and in an “I’m-gonna-take-this-itty-bitty-world-by-storm” manner. Van Siclen turns around and delivers an “Oh-s**t” face for the camera before taking off, running around the ring and to the commentary table (in SD position). He motions for everybody to clear out of the way and grabs Funyon’s chair, holding it as a weapon as he slowly starts to walk towards Janus. The two of them meet up on the side of the ring, and Mike levels a chair shot right for Janus’ head – but the big man ducks, and Mike’s momentum swings him around! Janus takes advantage of this, quickly grabbing Mike under each arm and putting him into a full nelson, lifting up and slamming him down quickly with a Bubba Bomb!

“Full nelson slam by Janus!” Axis’ voice shines with national pride. “And he just narrowly avoids that chairshot, too!”

“That’s just not fair,” King moans. “Mike set up that assault perfectly, but Janus managed to avoid it without much thought.”

“Depressing, eh?”

Janus grabs Van Siclen by the hair and picks him up, rolling him into the ring angrily. Janus looks at the chair that Mike dropped, debating whether to bring it with him before deciding that it might help later and picking it up, tossing it into the ring with more ease than a two-year-old sucking on a bottle. Janus, now, rolls into the ring, and he stands up quickly, not allowing Van Siclen to take advantage of him re-entering. It doesn’t matter, as Mike is still out of it. Janus lifts Van Siclen to his feet, now, and whips the man who says he is Spectacular into the ropes. Van Siclen comes back, and Janus lifts his boot up, looking to level Mike with it… but Mike ducks it and runs to the other side! Janus turns around – and gets cracked in the sternum with a flying forearm! He doesn’t go down, merely stumbles back a few feet, and Mike tries to capitalize on the big man’s being distracted by bouncing off of the ropes again and looking for something bigger – but Janus gets the boot up this time, and Mike lands flat-backed on the mat! Mike groans from the pain, and Janus stands right over his neck, dropping a leg across it! He holds the leg there for the pinning predicament!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“T-TWO!”

“Janus looks for the three there, but Mike managed to get a shoulder up through the boot-and-leg combo.”

“Mike’s gonna use that for momentum, Axis. You just watch.”

Janus lifts Mike up again, whipping him into the ropes and lifting him up high, slamming him straight to the mat with a high-angled Spinebuster! Janus rolls over, his body across Van Siclen’s and his arm hooking Mike’s leg as he looks for the pin!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“TH-TWO!” Mike gets a shoulder up, and Janus angrily stands up, stomping hard at Van Siclen’s chest as the much smaller man crumples into a ball. Janus shows no mercy on Van Siclen, however. His eyes do shift, though, his gaze moving from Mike’s fallen body to the chair that he had just thrown into the ring. He grins, picking up the chair and opening it. He sets it on the turnbuckle so that the seat of the chair is between the top and middle rope, and the back of the chair rests on the turnbuckle.

“Janus very nearly gets the fall with the Spinebuster there… but what could he want to do with the chair on the turnbuckle?”

“I don’t know – but I’m willing to bet it’ll hurt a lot.”

Janus lifts Van Siclen up, thrusting Mike’s head between his legs to put the Spectacular young man into a standing headscissors. Janus grins evilly, signaling for a powerbomb and then pointing at the turnbuckle.

“OH MY GOD NO!”

“Axis, calm down. This could be amusing. I’ve got my camera.”

Janus grabs Van Siclen around the waist and lifts Mike up, setting Mike on his shoulders in perfect position for a powerbomb. He walks over to the ropes, his face shining with perspiration from holding Mike up so long as he suddenly exhales, sending Mike crashing…

Right into the chair, the turnbuckle too, with a vicious Turnbuckle Powerbomb! Mike’s body bounces off of the turnbuckle like a rag doll and lands near the ropes, Janus grinning.

“The pin here is academic, folks, I’m sorry for how short this match has been…”

Janus makes the cover on Van Siclen’s fallen body.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THR-TWO COUNT!” Van Siclen weakly sticks one arm straight up, and Janus angrily stands up, lifting up Mike by the hair and yelling in his ear a little bit.

“WOW! How the HELL did Van Siclen get the strength, the will…”

“Easy, Axis. Janus went to his big guns early, when Van Siclen still had enough left to get out of it. We’re not even ten minutes in and already Janus pulls out the big powerbomb – of course a seasoned vet like Van Siclen will be able to get out.”

Janus grabs Mike by the arm and whips the Amazin’ one into the ropes – and Mike grabs the top one, flipping himself out of the ring and onto the pads on the outside, where he can try to catch his breath! He turns away from the ring, trying to catch his breath, but Janus is seeing red at this point as he hits the mat and rolls out of the ring. Van Siclen turns around… to see Janus right there behind him, looking really mean! Van Siclen turns back around and leaps over the railing, Janus too jumping over… but Mike has him set up perfectly, as the Amazin’ one jumps up onto the railing and uses it as a springboard to dropkick Janus in the face!

“The combatants brawl into the crowd, where Mike catches Janus with a springboard dropkick right in the jaw!”

“Van Siclen is starting to gain momentum, but will he be able to hold it?”

“…I thought you liked Mike, King.”

“Like him, but I’m brutally honest with the boy.”

Van Siclen tries to capitalize on his momentum by backing up further into the crowd. He then charges at Janus, jumping into the air and rolling over, looking for a spinning wheel kick on the God of Doors… but Janus bends over, and in the process backdrops Van Siclen right over the railing and into the ring area! Janus’ hometown fans roar for the move, and Janus pats a couple of them on the head before lumbering over the rail, looking to inflict more pain on Van Siclen. He picks the Spectacular individual up, grabbing Van Siclen around the throat as Van Siclen’s face twists into a mask of horror. Janus moves closer to the rail, and the crowd, knowing what is to come, begins a premature “HO-LY S**T!” chant.

“Janus looking for a huge chokeslam there, King! What will Van Siclen do to get out of this one?”

“Probably find a way to use the No-DQ to his advantage.”

Indeed, the King has the right idea, as Van Siclen uses his brain a bit and knees Janus right in the jewels! The crowd boos, and the God of Doors cannot no-sell the vicious ball attack, forced to let go of his grip on Mike’s neck to grasp his balls in pain. Mike takes quick advantage of this, putting his head under Janus’ neck and sitting out with a quick sitout jawbreaker! Janus stays up, and Van Siclen charges Janus’ legs, knocking them out from under him and sending Janus crashing down, first hitting his head on the rail, and then rolling off of it and to the side, landing on his back with his head near the rail. Mike takes a look at Janus’ body, trying to formulate what to do next.

“Van Siclen catches Janus off-guard with that low blow, then follows it up with a sitout jawbreaker and a double leg takedown. Van Siclen most definitely has the momentum, King, but as you said, can he hold it?”

“My mind changes more every time you ask that, Axis.”

Van Siclen grabs Janus’ long white hair and lifts the giant to his feet. King and Axis both look on, trying to figure out why Mike would seemingly wake the sleeping giant, but Van Siclen has a plan. He grabs Janus in a side headlock and grabs his long leather pants, lifting Janus in what would be a Suplex but then sets the God of Doors down on the railing, so that his head is pointing towards the ring. Van Siclen forearms Janus in the face a couple of times for good measure, then dashes over to the apron and jumps onto it. Ripping a page straight out of Rob Van Dam’s book, Mike points to himself three times, trying to get the crowd to chant along – “Next. World. Champ.” Van Siclen proceeds to leap off, rolling over in mid-air and landing with his legs split across, his left one coming down right across Janus’ neck! The seesaw effect causes Janus’ legs to flip right over the rail as Van Siclen brings Janus’ upper body all the way over. Van Siclen stands up, tapping his chest twice despite obviously not having any idea why and walking towards the apron, trying to clear his head and figure out what is next.

“Van Siclen sets up the Helicopter kick on Janus, a vicious move if there ever was one. The question now is whether or not he can build on it, and quite frankly I don’t think he can.”

“Well, Axis, it’s time for Mike to throw whatever his plan was right out the window. It’s not going to work and, at this point, it would almost be better for Van Siclen to line up all of his moves, A-Z, and perform all of them on Janus in the hopes that he lays down for three seconds.”

“…that’d take a really long time.”

Van Siclen makes a gesture with his hand as if to say “I get it now!”, and he walks over to Janus and lifts the big man to his feet. The darker-haired Van Siclen grabs Janus by the arm, looking to hit Janus with a Blackjack neckbreaker as he runs forward, wrapping Janus’ own arm around his neck and then running past, sitting out and dragging Janus into the floor, arm-first. Laboring a bit, Mike goes to the rail and hops onto it, backflipping off with the quick Rail Biter moonsault… and catches Janus’ knees right in his gut! Mike rolls off of Janus, grabbing his ribs in pain as he leans against the apron for support, while Janus tries to steady himself on the outside.

“Van Siclen with the Blackjack neckbreaker, but his attempt to follow it up with the Rail Biter variety of moonsault backfires as he catches nothing but knees to the ribs. Gee, King, Mike’s ribs have been hit an awful lot.”

“Pure coincidence, Axis. I assure you, anything intelligent that ape is doing is pure coincidence.”

Van Siclen looks at Janus getting to his feet and tries to quickly think of something to do to stop the big man from massacring him. He realizes the he is leaning against the world’s largest weapon storage, and quickly throws the apron up, seeing Janus beginning to get oriented. He whips out a garbage can and throws it at Janus, but the aluminum cylinder bounces off the big man, spilling its contents all over ringside. Janus begins to march heroically towards Van Siclen, eliciting a roar of delight from the crowd. Van Siclen reaches underneath the ring again and this time produces a kendo stick! He holds it up, almost not knowing what to do with it before grasping it by the end. Looking more like “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens than “Spectacular” Mike Van Siclen, Van Siclen takes a mighty swing, straight at Janus’ head…

CRACK!

And… kinda, fouls it off. The stick shatters, but Janus is seemingly unfazed! He continues charging Van Siclen, and as a last ditch the Spectacular veteran grabs a sign spilled from the garbage can – “No Littering”, oddly enough – and levels a swing with that at Janus’ head!

SMACK!

…but only the sign is dented, as Mike throws it away and looks for something else… but he’s too late. Janus grabs him by the head and throws him at the side of the ring, Van Siclen hitting back-first and grabbing the apron rod for balance, but the rod gives out and the apron falls off the side of the ring, exposing all of the weapons! Janus backs up and into a four-point stance as he waits for Van Siclen to steady himself.

“Janus is unfazed by all the weapons shots! Look out, Van Siclen, Janusmania is runnin’ wild!”

“Oh god oh god oh god…”

Mike Van Siclen stands up, uneasily, leaning on the side of the ring for support, when suddenly Janus breaks his four point stance and charges Van Siclen! Two huge strides and WHAM!

“GORE! GORE! GORE!”

“Dammit…”

Van Siclen crumples on the side of the ring, and Janus rolls him inside. Janus stops on the outside, and then reaches under the ring, grabbing a chair and throwing it in. Janus throws two more chairs into the ring before rolling inside himself, but his weapon-throwing has allowed Van Siclen enough time to get his wits about him, as Mike begins to lay into Janus’ head and neck with stomps. Van Siclen stomps Janus until the big man is laying flat on his back, and then ascends the ropes. The Spectacular twenty-three year old leaps off, splitting his legs midair and looking to slice his right leg across Janus’ neck… but the God of Doors rolls out of the way, and Van Siclen lands ass-first on the canvas! Mike stands up slowly, clutching his lower back in pain as Janus stands up as well, looking angry and ready to take control of the match.

“Van Siclen looks for the Guillotine leg drop, but Janus rolls out of the way and Van Siclen hits nothing but canvas!”

“Indeed, Axis, but Van Siclen had a sizable amount of offence right there. That may come back to bite Janus in his doorlike ass.”

Van Siclen looks at Janus and charges the huge man, looking to spear him or something, but Janus moves out of the way and Mike catches the ropes. Van Siclen comes back, looking for a running neckbreaker or something to keep the momentum in his favor, but Janus slams the door (heh) on that, catching Mike with a knee to the gut as he comes back. Van Siclen keels over, his ribs being hit again, and Janus takes advantage of the situation by grabbing Mike by the tights and lifting him up slightly, landing in an Impact DDT! Janus rolls Mike over onto his back and makes the cover.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THRE-TWO COUNT!” Van Siclen barely gets the arm up.

“Nice Impact DDT by Janus, but Mike manages to get the arm up!”

“This crowd really wants to see Janus win – it’s too bad Mike’s gonna be the one walking out with gold on his waist.”

“…what if Janus buys a novelty belt?”

Janus grabs Mike once again, putting Van Siclen into a standing headscissors and lifting one arm into the air, signaling for the sit-down powerbomb! Van Siclen is lifted like a teddy bear by Janus, lifted straight into the setup for a powerbomb… and Janus executes, sitting out with the powerbomb! Janus doesn’t, however, bridge, choosing instead to roll outside and look underneath the side of the ring without an apron for a weapon. He searches for a bit before finding what he’s looking for – a ladder! He holds it up, allowing the Sydney crowd to cheer him before sliding it into the ring. He looks to follow it in… but he is caught with a baseball slide dropkick by Mike, right into the ladder which goes into Janus! Mike grabs the ladder, pulling it back fully into the ring, and then slides out to fetch Janus.

“Janus looks to take the advantage with a sitout powerbomb, but his failure to make the pinfall may cost him in the long run, as it’s allowed Van Siclen to retake momentum.”

“And Janus put a ladder in play, too! Hasn’t he seen any of Mike’s ladder matches? Steel Pipe Ladder Match! Stairway to F**k? Yes, this ladder will work to Mike’s advantage.”

Mike grabs Janus, catching him in the face with a forearm once before rolling the huge God of Doors into the ring. Mike slides in after him, grabbing the ladder and setting it up, a little off-center of the middle of the ring. He begins to climb it, rung by rung, stopping after every one to look down at Janus. About ¾ of the way up he stops, turning around mid-ladder and looking down… to see Janus climbing up after him! Mike tries to do something, but Janus reaches up and punches him square in the stomach! Mike bends over, nearly falling off, and Janus takes advantage of Mike’s bent state by grabbing him by the throat, much to the delight of the Sydney crowd!

“Van Siclen introduces a ladder into the match, but this could cost him dearly!”

“Mike’s been in situations like these before, and he’s gotten out of them, too.”

Janus climbs even higher up, now bringing Van Siclen with him as he hits a rung near the top. Van Siclen stands on the top of the ladder and Janus is about two rungs below him, his arm around Mike’s neck. Janus raises his other arm, inciting the crowd as he looks to chokeslam Mike – but the Amazin’ one boots Janus square in the forehead! And again! And Janus lets go on his chokehold, nearly falling off the ladder as Mike poses, facing away from Janus. He looks straight into the crowd, raising his hand with his two fingers extended, pressing them against his temple as the crowd gives him a mixed reaction, not sure whether to cheer or boo Mike.

“Van Siclen manages to evade the chokeslam, and what could happen here?”

“I don’t know, Axis, but I think Mike’s about to commit suicide!”

Van Siclen stands atop the ladder for a few seconds, his hand in the shape of the gun, pointed straight into his temple.

And then he pulls the trigger.

Van Siclen grins, his glittering eyes lighting the Sydney arena as he leaps off, backwards, spinning 180* in midair and falling, past Janus on the left side, but then snakes his right arm up and wraps it around the God of Doors’ neck. Van Siclen continues to fall, all…

The way…

Down…

And landing in a neckbreaker on Janus, a fallout neckbreaker! The crowd roars, calls of “HOLY S**T!” and “JANUS DIED!” echoing in the Sydney arena as Van Siclen and Janus lie on the mat, both dead in their own right. Van Siclen tries to sit up, but upon failing turns over, draping an arm over Janus.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THRE-TWO!” Janus manages to get one big shoulder up, and Mike can’t believe it. He grabs at his hair as if to say “What do I have to do!?”, but then falls back again, catching his breath on the mat.

“Van Siclen with a modified Code Red off the ladder, but it only gets a two count!”

“What does Mike Van Siclen have to do to beat Janus? Drop an anvil?”

Nick Soapdish bends down next to Janus, checking on the big man to make sure he’s all right. The God of Doors merely grunts back, and Soapdish takes this as a sign that he’s okay. Nick turns to Van Siclen and asks him the same question, to which Mike replies “My f**king back hurts.” Soapdish chuckles, standing up – there’s nothing he can do about it, as there’s no count-outs, either. Van Siclen, remembering his notes on Janus, remembers that he can’t allow the white-haired man to rest, because he is very quick at getting back into the action after short rests. Putting this knowledge into action, Van Siclen stands up, looking to whip Janus into the ropes. He grabs the God of Doors by the arm and pulls – but in a classic spot, Janus pulls Mike right back and to the other side of the ring! Van Siclen ricochets off of the other ropes like a pinball and rockets back at Janus, and the big man wastes no time in grabbing Mike and slamming him down with a Powerslam! The big man bridges through for a cover.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THRE-TWO COUNT!”

“It really says a lot when a Powerslam can nearly put you down for a three count, both about the strength of the opponent and the toll the match has taken. Both of these would certainly ring true for Van Siclen, eh King?”

“I’d have to say no, Axis. This is nothing when you look at Van Siclen’s rigorous training, and he trained with Mr. T. Janus is nothing more than a guppy.”

Janus gets off of Van Siclen, allowing the dark-haired man to get to his feet… only to pull back the proverbial carpet, as Janus smashes Mike with a stiff lariat. Mike falls flat to the mat again, and this time Janus goes to the top rope, the crowd absolutely roaring as they can’t remember Janus doing this anytime in recent memory. The announcers can’t, either, and they quickly try to figure out what Janus is doing.

“I can’t remember Janus ever going to the top rope, King, what could the God of Doors possibly be planning?”

“Well, it’s been rumoured that Janus can do a frog splash, but I never knew if it was true… I guess now we find out, eh?”

Janus steadies himself on the top rope, the crowd still not sure what is happening but ready to pop huge for whatever it is… Janus bounces a couple of times for momentum… and then suddenly, falls off of the turnbuckle and is crotched! Mike Van Siclen, through Janus’ hesitation, managed to get enough strength to pull down on the top rope, and Janus gets crotched as a result! Van Siclen sets up a chair close to the turnbuckle, laying it flat on the mat and then climbing to the middle rope. He grabs Janus in a headlock, looking to superplex the big man… but Janus kidney punches Mike! And again! And Mike lets go of the headlock, allowing Janus to grab Mike around the neck and choke-push Mike off of the middle rope, onto the chair! Janus, little energy left, merely climbs down off the turnbuckle, barely in it enough to make the cover, not alive enough to move Mike away from his position where he’s close to the rope, and without the strength to hook the leg… Janus covers, Soapdish hits the mat, the crowd counts along…

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THRE-TWO!” Mike juuuuuuust kicks out, and Janus is FURIOUS, the crowd too booing the HELL out of the ref as Janus lifts Van Siclen up, preparing for the next sequence.

“VAN SICLEN KICKS OUT! Janus didn’t have the strength to deliver a full chokeslam, and that little change was enough to let Van Siclen kick out!”

“Mike will have to take control of his own destiny at this point, though, or he’s done for.”

Janus whips Van Siclen into the ropes, bending over and looking for the backdrop… but Van Siclen evades the telegraphed maneuver by kicking Janus in the jaw! Janus stands up and stumbles back a bit, and Van Siclen quickly gets behind Janus, grabbing both of the big man’s arms and wrapping them around his neck, then sitting out with a Crossface halo! Van Siclen holds the X for the cover!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THR-TWO COUNT!” Janus kicks out, and Van Siclen stands up angrily, grabbing the other of the two chairs Janus tossed into the ring earlier.

“Van Siclen with the Crossface Halo very nearly getting the three count!”

“Van Siclen’s nearing the end, Axis! He has to deliver a knockout blow here!”

He picks it up and sets it up, the chair set up mid-ring like in the Triple H/Katie Vick segment. He goes over to Janus and lifts the big man to his feet and grabbing him in a side headlock… but Janus throws Mike’s arm off! Angrily, and with a burst of speed comparable to Turboman, Janus grabs Mike in vertical Suplex position and lifts Van Siclen up… but Janus does it too fast, and Mike uses this momentum to flip himself over Janus’ arm and onto his feet, back-to-back with Janus! The Spectacular individual turns around, burying his knee in Janus’ back as the big man bends over backwards! Mike grabs him, holding him in reverse DDT position. Mike makes a rolling-dice motion with his free hand, as he holds Janus over the chair and then spins over, delivering a Test Drive – and driving Janus’ throat right into the back of the chair! Janus grabs his throat in absolute AGONY as Mike scampers on top of the big man, pinning both shoulders to the mat and pulling the leg back as far as he can!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“TH…”

Time slows down…

“R…”

And seems to stop…

“E…”

Janus realizes he needs to kick out, but Mike’s holding his leg, he can’t…

“E…”

With all his might, Janus kicks…

“E!”

OUT, but just a second too late!

-=: Ding Ding Ding :=-

Van Siclen rolls off of Janus and out of the ring, landing on the floor with one arm in the air, the other clutching his ribs, which had been punished for the whole match! The crowd boos heavily as Nick Soapdish rolls out of the ring, grabbing the title and giving it to Van Siclen, holding Mike’s other arm up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, YOUR winner, and the NEW SMARKS JUNIOR LEAGUES HEAVYWEIGHT champion… MIKE VAN SICLEN!”

The crowd boos even more as “Damage Done” begins to play, the announcers getting lost in the boos of the crowd and Van Siclen holding his title in the air, with one hand, grinning through his pain as we shift to a shot of Janus, in-ring, still clutching his throat. He takes his hand away, and a line of red streaks his hand. Words flash across the screen…

Victory…

Mike Van Siclen, holding his title high.

Defeat…

Janus, bent over, a fallen giant with blood staining his neck.

SJL.

=====================

February 10, 2003

The picture comes back and the fans are bombarded by Axis, “Apparently the man who hijacked the camera has a public service announcement.” The voice reflects confusion.

Across America the picture comes into view. Eventually, a nearly pitch-black room can be seen. There’s a candle lit on a shaky table and suddenly a cupped hand swoops down. A cigarette then enters the flame and lights up while whatever person owns it takes slow, defined puffs with it.

The voice tells you who it is within seconds, “I’m not just here to succeed or to pay. But to saw the lost they’re way… to prove to the untouchables that they too can be loved in a sense. But even more importantly, I’m here to settle the final chapter of a very, very old story.” The face of Insane Luchador is revealed as he ducks down near the flame, the fire reflects only one sinister half of his face. The Stephen Lynch look-a-like grins with passion.

“He’s here and it’s time… you can’t deny it. This is destiny and this is my faith. I’m just ashamed it took this long for my eyes to truly open. I am Enlightened.” With that the stolen camera suddenly sees a candle coming flying towards it. There’s an awkward sound, a yelp from Axis, and finally the camera has it’s own plastic melt across the lens… causing the camera’s feed to cut off while IL continues to puff away.

February 10, 2003

Whoa. What a monster of a show.

Frankly, kids, there is WAY too much stuff going on in here to recap. And it's almost all way too good to just spoil with a recap. So I'm pulling a Suicide King again. You want to know? You gots to READ, yo!

-Z

SJL Wrath, February 9th, 2003!

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