Wrath Losing Match(es)

[janusd 0]

The screen fades in to reveal a jam packed Opera House in Sydney, the capital of NSW, and fans are screaming, and yelling and drinking their big Australian hearts out because SJL Wrath has come back from break and is ready for the main event! The camera moves down on many more people, and eventually to a section containing hundreds upon hundreds of indigenous Australians, who are singing and dancing around a fire with various musical instruments such as the didgeridoo. The camera swivels around to catch the cheering on the other side of the Opera House, and.....

 

... sees hardly any bums in seats at all. In fact, this side of the Opera House is pretty much dead. The cameraman moves the camera up and down the collage of empty seats in a hectic manner trying to locate something, ANYTHING that is alive and cheering. The cameraman locates nothing... except, one small little thing shows the slightest amount of life. Hanging from one chair in the middle of the seating facility, a sign dangles...

 

--What? You serious!? It’s smoko time, mate!--

 

The camera angle changes to a pan movement that stops when it hits the commentary position where The Suicide King, the Gambling Man sits with his arms crossed and his face adorning one of slight anger. Axis though, is no where to be seen. As, from the chair of Axis, another sign dangles, swinging from side to side, reading...

 

--Smoko~!--

 

Seeing the camera on him, the Gambling Man instantly scrambles to make a cover, despite the fact his Australian compatriot is nowhere in sight.

 

Suicide King: “Yes... and welcome back to the Sydney Opera House for SJL Wrath! After seeing the punishment matches for tonight, this event should be excellent! Because it's the main event for the SJL World Title, and it's ...."

 

King taps his earpiece repeatedly and goes silent as he realises he totally doesn't know who's wrestling.

 

Suicide King: “.... uuh.... will someone tell me who is wrestling now!? I CAN'T DO THIS ALONE!!!”

 

Four quick cymbals and an quicker guitar riff that begins “Damage Done” by Dark Tranquility blasts throughout the arena, as the lights go out and the crowd starts booing immensely. Blue strobes begins to flash in time with the music as none other than Mike Van Siclen steps onto the ramp, his arms extending in a bent crucifix under his acid-green jacket. He spins around the on the ramp, his grin like that of a madman as he halts and steps cockily down the entrance ramp.In the ring, Funyon lifts his microphone to announce.

 

Funyon: "The following contest is for the vacant Smarks Junior League WORLD TITLE, and is no-disqualification, with all interference barred from ringside! Introducing first, hailing from Harrison Illinois and weighing two hundred and thirty seven pounds! He's the 'Spectacular' One.....MIKE.....VAN......SIIIIIIICLEN!"

 

Without a word, MVS slides into the ring and extends his arms to the sides, allowing his jacket to slip off his back and to the floor. The referee - one Sexton Hardcastle - scurries in to pick up the jacket and move it out of the ring as Siclen lifts his arms and gestures for the crowd to keep booing him. Being Australian and hating Siclen with all their guts, the crowd continues to boo him to their heart's content, and the Suicide King is too afraid to make commentary without Axis. Seeing the other half of the Opera House filling up as the crowd comes back from smoko time, he looks expectantly at the chair next to him, and soon enough the Aussie Axis seats himself down, looking pleased.

 

Axis: "Smoko's over, King! Now, time to call this match!"

 

Suicide King: "....What......the hell....is a SMOKO!?"

 

Axis: "....Bloody Yank..."

 

Van Siclen gets into the ring, moving to one of the corners and stretching in the corner, watching the ramp as the lights click out one by one, and the sound of Fear Factory's "Resurrection" coming from the speakers incites the crowd to an almost riotous high for several moments. Blue pyros fountain up from the ramp as the vocals of the song kick in.

 

'Consumed with memories...

That preceded today....

Given a chance to bereave...

Life that's slipping awaaaaaaaaay!'

 

As the heavy chords of the song hit, the crowd pops loudly, cheering as the Hell Machine himself, sole member of the Junior League Magnificent Seven, steps out onto the ramp, illuminated only by a spotlight. Far from his usual bleak expression, Janus seems almost pleased, stretching his arms and swinging them a little as he walks down the ramp, turning his head to look into the crowd, thrusting an arm in the air as he strolls down the ramp. On the Smarktron, aside from his usual 'name-flash' and clips of his painful arsenal, the green-and-gold words 'It's Good To Be Home' pop up, just for this night in Australia, which incites the crowd to cheer even more. Funyon smiles as he announces.

 

Funyon: "And his opponent! Weighing three hundred and fifty pounds...and hailing from right here, SYDNEY AUSTRALIA!"

 

The crowd positively roars at this as Janus climbs up onto the apron.

 

Funyon: "Ladies and gentlemen......JAAAAAAANUS!"

 

Van Siclen ducks out of the ring along with Funyon as Janus steps over the top rope and strolls to the center of the ring, and lifts his arms as blue fire explodes from the turnbuckles. The lights come back up to normal as Janus stands there with arms raised, turning a slow circle to survey the crowd, a smile on his usually grim face as they cheer him. MVS slides into the ring and swings his leg up for a spinning heel kick that connects with Janus' back - but the giant does nothing but lower his arms and turn around, still apparently bemused. All bemusement goes out of his face in a split second as he nearly takes Mike's head off with a vicious standing lariat.

 

Axis: "MVS tried to get the drop on him and failed! Janus with a stiff lariat to start this off...."

 

Suicide King: "Fucking Aussie....why the hell is Janus getting cheered, anyway?"

 

Axis: "Hometown, King. And they look like they're behind him every step of the way."

 

Janus doesn't advance on Siclen, instead letting the smaller superstar get back to his feet. Looking almost Hogan-esque the way he stood there with the crowd cheering, the giant looks down at Siclen as he winds up and delivers a stinging chop to Janus' chest. A second chop, a third chop, and the giant finally stepped backwards a bit, the flesh on his chest reddening under the chop-fest. Seeing the giant was mostly unaffected, Siclen races to the ropes, and bounces back, springing up with a flying clothesline that makes Janus stumble against the ropes. Grabbing the giant's arm, he tries for an irish whip....

 

...that Janus reverses, sending Van Siclen across the ring and into the ropes! The Amazing One comes races back towards Janus at high speed, and the giant simply ducks his body, flipping his opponent up....up....and UP into the air with an immensely huge back body drop over the top rope! The crowd roars as Siclen hits mat spine first, rolling on the ground. Janus turns around and tosses his hair from his face, leaning on the top rope almost relaxedly before stepping over it and coming down onto the floor. Picking Mike up, Janus props him against the turnbuckle and the steel stairs and steps away, lifting his arms to the crowd before spinning around and charging at his opponent and lifting a boot.....

 

Suicide King: "COUNTER BY SICLEN!"

 

Axis: "Ohhhh....poor Janus, that HAS to hurt!"

 

The reason for this is very simple. Sliding out of the way of the giant's charge, Van Siclen applied a droptoe hold, causing Janus to fall over and crash facefirst into the steel stairs with a clang that makes the crowd wince. Climbing up onto the apron, he waits for the giant to get back on his feet before leaping up onto the ropes and coming off with a springboard dropkick to the head that makes Janus reel back, holding his face. Shaking his noggin, Janus looks up as Siclen starts to mount the apron again...

 

...and steps forward, putting a leg up on the apron beside Siclen's, reaching up with great arms to hook him in a full nelson. Van Siclen shakes his head as Janus half-stands on the apron with the hold on, and then abruptly, the giant falls back and lets go of the hold - sending Siclen flying over his head in a release full-nelson suplex, much to the crowd's delight as Siclen meets not mat, but the entrance ramp, with the back of his head! Janus pushes himself up, looking at Siclen who's sprawled on the ground.

 

Axis: "Janus with a released full-nelson suplex...off the apron! He seems to be getting some nasty spots in his repoitoire, but the crowd love it!"

 

Suicide King: "Does he have some fetish for trying to break people's necks!?"

 

Axis: "You'd be cheering him if he wasn't getting cheered by the fans, King"

 

Suicide King: "...Shut up and commentate."

 

Stepping over to where Siclen sprawls on the entrance ramp, Janus lifts his foot and kicks Siclen in the back numerous times, before stepping on him and grinding his heel before letting go. Mike arghs and holds his back as the giant steps away, lifting and swinging his arms as if this were nothing but a walk in the park for him. The Australian crowd continue to cheer as they partake of their fine Australian beer, watching as Janus lifts Van Siclen back to his feet, and lifts his arm to deliver a thunderous chop to his opponent's chest, making Siclen stagger back.

 

"WHOOOO!"

 

Another chop!

 

"WHOOOOOOOOO!"

 

And another chop!

 

"WHOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

And another..no, wait, Siclen counters and goes low, driving his boot into the giant's crotch. Janus grimaces and staggers as he stumbles back a little, the twosome about halfway up the entrance ramp. Due to the match's no-disqualification stipulation, referee Sexton Hardcastle can't order the two of them to get back in the ring, but he does out of habit warn Siclen about hitting people below the belt. In not-so-polite terms, MVS tells Sexton right where he can stick it because this is a no disqualification match, earning a drunken 'ooooooh' from the crowd followed by a noisy cheer as Siclen turns back towards Janus to take a brutal looking forearm shot to the face that makes him almost fall over, clutching his nose.

 

Axis: "STIFF forearm shot by Janus there. He's practically owning Van Siclen...."

 

Suicide King: "He may be getting cheered, but he's still championship material, I admit. But my money's on Siclen because he's been around far longer than Janus has!"

 

Axis: "Neglecting to mention Janus' impressive run, are we?"

 

Janus swings an arm around for a mirror-image of the lariat that started the match, but Van Siclen ducks, and moves behind Janus, cinching in a waistlock! The giant stands there stiffly as Mike attempts to pop his hips and lift the giant up for a german suplex, but three hundred and fifty pounds of muscle seems a bit too much for him to carry, so the move just doesn't work. Changing tactics, he lifts up a boot and drives a spinning wheel kick into Janus' spine, making the bigger man arch back - and Siclen wraps an arm around his neck, already looking for one of his signature moves, the Russian Roulette! As he begins to twist Janus around, the giant lifts his arms and locks his meaty hands around Siclen's biceps, stopping him in mid move. Both superstars release their holds and glare at each other momentarily....

 

....right before Siclen kicks Janus in the abdomen, doubling the larger man over for a moment! Applying a standing headscissors, Siclen attempts to lift Janus up for a powerbomb, but like his german suplex attempt, the giant is just too damn big! This time, however, Siclen doesn't get a chance to change tactics as Janus pulls his head out of the headscissors and pushes forward with his leg muscles, charging with Siclen across the length of the entranceway and crashing his spine into the guardrail with a Gore! Siclen arghs, and the crowd cheers as MVS slumps to the ground. Janus straightens up, mere inches from the Australian townsfolk, seperated only by the guard barrier. A random person sticks his hand over the guardrail, and Janus grabs it...shaking hands! The crowd cheers louder as Janus lets go and leans down to pick Siclen back up.

 

Axis: "Janus shaking hands with the locals here! He's probably more well known in Australia then the rest of the world...it IS his home country!"

 

Suicide King: "Are you kidding! Anywhere else he'd just tear the fans apart for touching him!"

 

Axis: "Maybe so..."

 

However, the cheers quickly turn to boos as Van Siclen drives some hard punches into Janus' abdomen, making the giant hunch over a little. Taking advantage of his crowd distraction, Siclen wraps his legs around Janus' and executes another droptoe hold, bouncing the giant's head into the guardrail! Janus clutches his forehead, red seeping between his fingers as he staggers back. Leaping up, Siclen grabs Janus by the head, resting the giant's jaw on top of his skull, and sits down, jarring Janus' head with a sitout jawbreaker! Janus staggers on his feet, one hand holding his jaw as he flops down to a sitting position, momentarily stunned.

 

Leaping forward, Van Siclen grabs both of the giant's legs and grins, liking how the crowd boos him for once before quickly and rapidly pulling Janus' legs away from each other in a double leg wishbone! The giant arghs at the crack noise that comes from his legs and pelvic area, falling back onto the ground with a grimace on his face. Trying to breath some life back into their local wrestling hero, the ground starts to stomp on the floor, a thunderous cheer for Janus roaring through the entire Opera House.

 

"COME ON JANUS!" *stomp stomp stomp-stomp-stomp*

"COME ON JANUS!" *stomp stomp stomp-stomp-stomp*

"COME ON JANUS!" *stomp stomp stomp-stomp-stomp*

 

Half lifting, half-dragging the giant by the legs, Van Siclen starts dragging him back towards the ring where he may be able to get a pinfall and get the coveted world title. During the process of being dragged, however, Janus' senses come back on full alert, and resistance to being dragged increases! Pulling his legs free of Siclen's grip, the giant rises to his feet as his opponent turns around, just in time to be caught in a crushing bearhug, before Janus drops down and bends Siclen over his knee with a pendulum backbreaker! The giant then picks Mike back up and rolls him into the ring, sliding in after him and hooking a leg as Sexton dives in and counts.

 

ONE!

TWO!

 

Van Siclen kicks out, and Janus gets to his feet, driving a hard boot into Siclen's abdomen to drive the air out of him. Leaning down to pick up his smaller opponent, Janus is the unfortunate victim of a rake to the eyes, and Siclen grabs Janus by the head with both hands before sitting out, pulling the giant down with him and nailing a facebuster! Janus rolls onto his back, sanguine redness visible on his forehead as Siclen stomps away at him before mounting the turnbuckle, facing the crowd and just smirking at the insults they throw before crouching and seemingly moving in slow motion as he throws himself off the turnbuckle with a moonsault!

 

Suicide King: "And 'lo, did the blood of the Australian stain the canvas, signifying that in his hometown, he would lose!"

 

Axis: "And 'lo did the giant get BACK TO HIS FEET!"

 

Suicide King: ".....Bugger."

 

Siclen, upside down in the air, doesn't see Janus on the canvas anymore - he gets a view of abdominal muscles, and black pants - as he slams into the giant's torso! Janus staggers, but holds Siclen upright in what was almost a Tombstone position. After a moment, however, he drops to one knee, driving one of Van Siclen's shoulders out of joint with a shoulder breaker! Showing tremendous physical power, Janus holds the move and stands back up, turning to face the other away...before dropping Siclen's shoulder into his knee again for shoulder breaker number two! The crowd roaring in pleasure is like music to the hometown giant's ears, as he doesn't go for a third move, but instead hoists Siclen onto his shoulders....

 

...but despite the agony in his shoulder, Siclen wriggles free, wrapping an arm around Janus' neck as he slips down his back. The instant his feet touch ground, Mike Van Siclen twists his whole body around in an almost desperate motion, twisting Janus around with the inverted swinging neckbreaker known as the Russian Roulette! Janus hits the canvas hard, holding his neck, and Siclen dives across him to get the cover!

 

ONE!

TW...

 

Janus benchpresses Siclen off him, before throwing him aside and slowly sitting up, tossing his hair away from his face and looking around, finally revealing the gash across his forehead clearly - while not a deep cut, it's bleeding rather steadily, staining the giant's face a rather sanguine hue. Shaking his head once, Janus rolls over to his hands and knees before starting to get to his feet, lifting his head when he sees a pair of boots in front of him, looking up into the cold eyes of Van Siclen, who lifts a fist and smacks it full force into Janus' head! The crowd boos as Janus shakes his head dazedly - and Siclen drops, locking in a headlock and keeping the giant grounded while punching the living hell out of his forehead!

 

Suicide King: "What did I tell you about Janus bleeding!?"

 

Axis: "Oh, you'll cheer for him next show when he wins the belt!"

 

Suicide King: "It's not MY fault he's on the fan's side tonight!"

 

Finally letting Janus' head go, Siclen rolls out of the ring as the giant rests his noggin on the canvas, breathing a little heavily after having his brains scrambled with repeated head punches. Digging under the ring, Siclen pulls out various things and throws them into the ring - a small hammer, a first aid kit, a cricket bat, a jar of Vegemite...how that got under there is anyone's guess...and finally, pulling out a steel chair! Sliding back into the ring, Siclen taps the chair on the ground and waits for Janus to get up. The crowd starts to jeer at the giant's opponent to give their hometown warrior some time, pissing Siclen off as a huge chant roars through the arena.

 

"YOU TAPPED OUT!" shrieks one side.

 

"TO JUDGE MENTAL~!" yells the other.

 

Siclen growls and yells at the fans to shut the fuck up as Janus slowly pushes himself back up to his vertical base, shaking his head and listening to the chant with a grin as Siclen's yells tell Janus just where he is...

 

...as Janus straightens up to his full height, and spins around as Siclen swings the chair like a baseball bat...

 

...and misses as the giant leans back, the chair skimming the air in front of his nose! Spun temporarily off balance, Siclen takes a moment to recover, lowering the chair as he turns around to see where Janus went, just in time to be on the receiving end of a very large boot to the skull! Flipping almost a full three-sixty from the kick, Siclen sprawls on the canvas holding his head as Janus leans on the ropes, dabbing at his forehead at the blood still running from the cut. Looking around the ring, he spots the Vegemite, the cricket bat, and finally, the first aid kit!

 

Axis: "....a bit ironic that Siclen brought that in there, don't you think?"

 

Suicide King: "Bah, he was just digging out whatever he could find."

 

Axis: "I thought all medical kits were kept with the medical staff...."

 

Taking his focus off the brained Siclen, Janus opens the first aid kit and digs out the bandaids, finding a nice large one to stick across his forehead. A bit of blood trickles from the covered cut, but otherwise, the bleeding appears to have been stopped. Janus starts to close the kit, when his green eyes fall on the bandages. He pauses and grins slightly, turning his eyes towards Van Siclen. The camera changes angle to focus on the dazed superstar as Janus drags him to the turnbuckle, pinning him as he leans over Siclen, using the bandages to pretty much bind Siclen's wrists together behind his body and around the turnbuckle, before throwing the bandages away and stepping backward. The crowd cheers and jeers at Siclen as he jerks his wrists against the turnbuckle, trying to tug himself free. Sexton stands in between Janus and Siclen, shaking his head.

 

Sexton: "You gotta let him go!"

 

Janus: "....It's no disqualification. So it's not against the rules."

 

Sexton: "It's still not fair!"

 

Their voices are drowned out by the sound of the crowed jeering at the referee, since indeed the match is no-disqualification and anything done in the match is legal. Finally giving in to the yelling of the fans, Sexton Hardcastle steps away from the restrained form of Mike Van Siclen, who yells angrily at the ref to untie him, as Janus walks across the ring and lifts his arms, standing against the opposing turnbuckle and looking out across the crowd, before he abruptly spins around and charges. Siclen barely has time to yell out an expletive before Janus' shoulder crashes full force into his sternum, making him crumble against the turnbuckle like a broken toy. Rubbing his shoulder, Janus walks away from the turnbuckle before turning around again, like an unstoppable freight train....this time it's a big boot that catches Siclen under the chin and literally flips him up, over the turnbuckles, and out of the ring!

 

"JANUS FUCKING ROCKS!"

"JANUS FUCKING ROCKS!"

"JANUS FUCKING ROCKS!"

 

Suicide King: "Jesus CHRIST! He's taking Siclen apart!"

 

Axis: "I'll say...tying his arms around the turnbuckle and then Goreing him with authority....and following it up with a jaw-cracking boot that knocked Siclen out of the ring!"

 

The camera focuses in on Siclen, kneeling outside the ring against the turnbuckles, arms above his head as his wrists are still bound - but the bandage around the turnbuckle looks torn already, because it was not designed for this sort of strain. As Janus slides out of the ring, Siclen tugs hard on the bandages, once, twice...and as the Hell Machine grabs him by the hair...

 

...the bandages break and Siclen greets Janus with a punch to the grapefruits that send him reeling backwards, and the crowd very, very loudly boos Siclen as he drops Janus to his knees with a kick to the groin, and then a spinning wheel kick to the head. After that offense, however, he leans against the apron, gasping at the throbbing pain in his skull and chest after being punished like that. With Janus on the ground also holding his noggin, Siclen stumbles away from the giant and around the ring, flipping up the apron and slowly, oh so slowly, dragging something out from under the ring. Is it a chair? A sledgehammer? A table? No....it's a ladder. Although the home crowd is booing the hell out of Siclen, there's a decent sized pop at the sight of the ladder, as the battered superstar pushes it into the ring and rolls in after it, slowly setting it up.

 

On the outside, Janus slowly sits up, putting a hand to his head to make sure he wasn't bleeding, seeing Siclen setting up the ladder. Rising to his feet, the giant rolls into the ring, getting back up just as Siclen finishes propping up the ladder and turns around to look for him. Mike promptly finds a hand wrapped around his throat, and his body hoisted into the air to be slammed down with a vicious chokeslam, and Janus locks his hand around Siclen's throat and starts choking him out.

 

Axis: "Siclen fighting back with everything he has! But Janus is just too strong for him right now - he's got him on the mat!"

 

Suicide King: "We've got Janus choking Mike out instead of the rightful man beating the hell out of the giant! Dammit Mike! Kick him in the balls again!"

 

Whether Mike heard the Gambling Man or not is questionable, but he does take a page out of the book of cheap tactics - reaching up, he rakes Janus in the eyes, forcing the giant to let go and rub his ocular cavities until he can see again. In this time, a wheezing Siclen scurries back and grabs a chair, this time lifting it high above his head as Janus clears his eyes and looks up...

 

*CRACK*

 

The giant continues to stare up at him with a grim expression. The crowd boos as Siclen swings the weapon again!

 

*CRACK*

 

On his knees, the giant begins to waver. Frustratedly, Siclen stamps his foot on the ground and winds up for a final chairshot, and...

 

*CRACK*

 

Janus flops over onto his back, the 'temporary fix' of the bandaid now useless as his face is nice and busted open from the repeated chairshots. Dropping the chair, Siclen slides over the giant's body, not even hooking a leg as he covers.

 

ONE!

TWO!

TH....

 

Janus kicks out with one powerful jerk of his legs, and the crowd cheers. Angrily, Siclen drives a few punches into his head, and rises, holding his abdomen before slowly scales the ladder, looking down at the sprawled giant beneath him. He lifts his arms and plays to the crowd as he leaps off the ladder, spinning around in the air almost exactly 450º and doing a corkscrew twist as he extends his leg....

 

Axis: "That's the....

 

Suicide King: "SIN AERIAL! And it HITS!"

 

The huge legdrop crashes down across Janus' ribcage, and the giant rolls over, away from Siclen, who's on the ground holding his leg after flying from such an altitude. Rising to his feet, he shouts out cockily to the crowd that it's all over. Janus reaches out across the canvas for a weapon of some sort from what Mike threw into the ring as the cocky Van Siclen starts pulling the giant back to his feet, signalling for the Riot Act. However, before he can do anything, Janus swings his arm up and around...

 

...cracking Siclen in the forehead with a JAR OF VEGEMITE! The crowd cheers insanely for one of the things they're famous for, as Janus drops to his knees, and repeatedly smacks Siclen in the forehead with the glass jar of tasty black spread. Putting the jar on the ground, he lifts the dazed Siclen to his feet, making him smell armpit as the giant sets up an implant DDT....lifting Mike up into the air, he drives him face first into the jar of Vegemite with a crashing sound! The giant rolls away and starts getting back up as Siclen flops onto his back in pain - his face covered with the yeasty, tasty blackness that is Vegemite, mixed with trickling blood from his forehead. Janus wastes no time in hooking a leg and pinning!

 

ONE!

TWO!

TH...

 

Siclen kicks out, bringing his hands to his face to try and rub off the Vegemite. Janus takes advantage and tries to pin him again!

 

ONE!

TWO!

 

Siclen kicks out once more, and the crowd boos him. Janus shakes his head and looks up at Sexton, who indicates that yes, it was only a two count. Rising back to his feet, Janus surveys the crowd as they cheer him, watching Mike rubbing the Vegemite off his face and pushing himself up. This attempt to push up is stopped by the giant kicking him once, twice, and grinding his boot into the center of Siclen's back, before grabbing his arms and pulling back, applying a surfboard submission hold! Siclen screams in pain, shaking his head furiously when Sexton asks him if he wants to quit. On top of this, the crowd starts up a loud chant, for the sole purpose of pissing Mike Van Siclen off. And as before, one half of the crowd yells out

 

"YOU TAPPED OUT~!"

 

And the other half replies, cheering.

 

"TO JUDGE MENTAL~!"

 

This chant ringing in Siclen's ears, he arghs and thrashes his body in pain as Janus holds the submission on him, refusing to quit. Finally, apparently tired of trying to snap Mike in half, Janus releases the submission hold and steps away, looking at the ladder Mike had set up. Like a snail with intent, the giant begins to ascend as Mike rolls onto his back, gasping in pain and looking up at the ladder - and the giant almost on top of it. Showing a sudden burst of resilience, Mike springs up to his feet and tackles the ladder, grimacing in pain - but it has the desired effect as it starts to tilt to the side. On the top, Janus waves his arms almost comically....

 

...before soaring off the top, out of the ring, and crashing back first into the guardrail, arching his back and crying out in pain. The crowd boos Siclen thunderous as Janus flops on the outside, and Siclen flops in the ring. Due to the no disqualification stipulation, Sexton can't call for a count-out, and watches the two sprawled superstars with an Almost concerned expression. The crowd starts chanting thunderous to get their champion on his feet, with the time-honoured chant of...

 

"AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE!"

 

Which the other half of the Opera House replied to with...

 

"OI! OI! OI!"

 

However, it's Van Siclen who's first to his feet, holding his shoulder and abdomen like he was in much pain. On the outside, Janus groans and clutches his back, shaking his head and slowly pushing himself towards getting up, grimacing in pain, empowered by the chants of the Australian people as he spots Siclen coming towards the ropes and starting to climb out of the ring, with a chair. Showing just how tremendously resilient is, Janus pushes himself up as Siclen swings, and the giant parries the blow with one thickly muscled arm, grimacing in pain. However, the second shot crashes home into the giant's skull, making him drop to his knees.

 

Axis: "Look at the crowd! They're going fucking nuts for Janus!"

 

Suicide King: "Desperation tactics! They know Siclen's going to wipe the floor with him!"

 

Axis: "Who knows, you could be right..."

 

Dropping the chair on the ground, Siclen tucks Janus' head between his legs and signals for the Riot Act! Straining, Siclen lifts Janus into piledriver position, shifting so his legs are around the giant's arms, and drops to his knees, cracking the giant's head into the chair! The crowd boos thunderously at this as Janus sprawls on the ground in an apparently unmoving heap. Siclen smirks and plays to the crowd, yelling "Who's the fucking winner now!" as he attempts to lift Janus back up and throw him into the ring. Having exerted himself already, this task is harder than it looks.

 

Suicide King: "He just squashed Janus' brains with the Riot Act! This match is over once he gets the pinfall!"

 

Axis: "We all know the power behind fighting in your home country, King."

 

Suicide King: "Bah! Aussies are pussies anyway!"

 

The Gambling Man earns a stare of death from Axis as Siclen finally manages to roll Janus' bulk into the ring and climb in after him. Sprawling across the giant's body with leisurely cockiness, he waits for Sexton to count. Finally, the referee drops down after making sure Mike's legs weren't on the ropes and that Janus' shoulders were flat on the canvas.

 

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

 

Siclen jumps to his feet, ecstatic, ignoring the fact that Sexton - now out of his line of sight - points at the ropes to signify where Janus' foot is. The giant begins to stir as Mike celebrates, climbing on the turnbuckle. Up onto his hands and knees, the giant starts climbing up, looking dazed as he reaches out for one of the weapons that was left into the ring...a cricket bad, complete with Sir Donald Bradman's signature. Using it half as a crutch, the giant pushes himself up as Sexton grabs Mike by the leg while he's on the turnbuckle, yelling at him that the match isn't over. The crowd starts cheering as Janus lifts the cricket bat above his head, then shifts his stance as if in batting position at the Test Series.

 

Suicide King: "Watch it, Mike! He's on his feet and he looks AUSTRALIAN!"

 

Axis: ".....That was bad."

 

Climbing off the turnbuckle, Mike turns to see Janus standing there, and not hesitating in the least, charges at the giant! Janus simply stands there, holding the cricket bat as Mike charges - then abruptly swinging it full force in a straight drive that CRASHES HOME INTO SICLEN'S GENITALS! The crowd oohs in pain as Siclen drops to his knees, gasping in agony as Janus makes a cricket hand signal above his head and lifts the bat. Mike looks up at him just in time to see the wooden bat smash into his face, splintering and knocking Siclen down like a sack of meal - blood now extremely obvious through the layer of Vegemite on his face - as the crowd roars in one huge cheer.

 

"YOOOOOOU'RE OUT!"

 

The crowd then breaks into spontaneous cheering as the giant drops the remains of the cricket bat and nudges Mike over onto his back. Janus drops laterally across Siclen, hooking a leg. Sexton drops and counts as the crowd cheeringly shouts along with the sound of hand hitting canvas

 

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE!!

 

The sound of the bell going *DING DING DING* seems like the sweetest thing Janus has ever heard as he stands up again, grimacing in pain as he looks at Siclen's body. Sexton climbs out of the ring, picking up the most prestigous belt in the Junior League and climbing back into the ring as Funyon lifts his microphone with a huge smile on his face, obviously as pleased as the crowd with this outcome.

 

Funyon: "Ladies and gentlemen....the WINNER of this contest...and NEW! SMARKS JUNIOR LEAGUE WORLD CHAMPION! He is the one, the only.......JAAANUS!"

 

Fear Factory's "Resurrection" booms out over the speakers as Sexton gives the World Title to the giant, who stares at it as if in shock before very, very slowly lifting it above his head. The crowd roars their approval as Janus holds the belt above his head, before lowering it and strapping it around his waist. Despite the blood covering his face, there's an almost cheerful smile as he slowly climbs out of the ring and begins to walk to the back, arms raised as the fans yell and cheer.

 

Janus. Born in Sydney, Australia.

 

New Smarks Junior League World Champion. After winning in Sydney, Australia.

 

He was on top now. And nobody was going to take him down.

[Guest fosta]

A small, excited murmur echoes throughout the Sydney Opera House as the Australian crowd awaits the introduction of the first match of the night.

The odd beginning of “Forests” by System of a Down bounces through the speakers to an unaccustomed crowd, and heads turn towards the Smarktron, expecting Fosta or Tryst. And with an odd song comes an odd character. The distorted guitar riff rumbles and crackles through the Opera House as Tryst appears on the stage to a warm ovation for a debuting rookie.

He stands; bow in one hand, arrows in the other, and makes his way merrily to the ring.

 

Funyon’s voice booms over the music to introduce our hero from Nottingham, “Ladies and Gentlemen...the following competitor stands at six feet, one inch tall, weighing in at t-“

 

 

Funyon’s voice is cut, the music is cut, and the cheers are soon substituted with boos as Fosta attacks savagely from behind, hitting Tryst across the back with a forearm, causing him to fall, dropping his accessories and hitting the cold steel with a treble crash. The scruffy looking heel follows in pursuit, and as Tryst stands, Fosta throws a bloodthirsty forearm, which bounces off his jaw. Tryst is rolled into the ring as the referee interrupts Fosta’s cowardly attack.

 

“What is Fosta doing King?” whines Axis.

 

“He’s keen to get his debut match started!”

 

Tryst gets to his feet and Fosta climbs into the ring, being watched closely by the ref. He is put in his corner, and the referee begins to lay down the law in a futile rage. Fosta stands with a small smirk on his face, peering out through his wooly hair and beard, looking across at Tryst. The recipient of the premature beginning massages his jaw with a sore expression across his face. The referee finishes with the disorderly competitor and calls for the bell to be rung. Both new faces eagerly move to the middle of the ring, where they size up their opponents in careful stances. The heated of the two officially begins the match with a lunge, and his adversary responds, quickly throwing him into a rough side headlock.

 

“And our first match of the night has officially begun.”

 

“Let’s see what these guys have, Axis.”

 

Fosta keeps the lock on, grinding on it with a fierce smile on his weathered face. Tryst typically pushes him towards the ropes in order to gain momentum to free himself from the hold, but Fosta holds it on tightly, and with more than fifteen pounds on Tryst, he isn’t shaken. He falls to one knee for an instant to regain his steady base, but Tryst makes another attempt quickly after, and this one is successful. Tryst frees himself, and moves to a hammerlock before tripping Fosta, sending him crashing to the mat face first. Tryst is on him before he hits the mat with a front headlock, and now Fosta is grounded. Calmly, he shuffles in his constricted position trying to release pressure from the hold, but soon finds he can’t. Being bested, Fosta reverts to strength, and pries Tryst’s sweating hands from one another, moving swiftly into an armbar, but Tryst finds the ropes in moments.

 

Both men are to their feet, and one wears a cocky grin. He waits for his opponent to prepare himself before the two lock antlers a second time. Tryst is forced against the ropes after a small contest, and whipped across the ring. He evades a sloppy clothesline, and returns with a sharp and snappy headscissors, sending Fosta into the turnbuckle on his unstable return to his feet. In lightning speed Tryst comes at Fosta. One foot bounces off the middle rope near the turnbuckle, and the other crashes against Fosta’s chest. He throws himself into the air and lands after a graceful back flip, turning to the audience and dropping to one knee, arms outstretched, to the audience’s eager approval.

 

“A game of one-upsmanship to begin, both men showing they have a technical skill.”

 

Fosta grumbles as he watches on, giving Tryst his time in the limelight. Tryst bounces back to his feet, and noting the loss of the cocky grin, waves Fosta on with a small flick of his fingers.

 

Expecting another sportsman like tie-up, Tryst readily accepts, but gets caught with a side-knee; the heel’s favourite deception. Fosta follows the side-knee with a European uppercut, knocking Tryst from his two-foot stance.

 

“No messing around from Fosta now Axis.”

 

After the uppercut, Tryst is against the ropes, and with a little guidance he is launched through the second and top rope to the matting outside. He is hunted by Fosta, who soon drops to the outside to continue his offence. However, he is welcomed by an unwelcoming thrust kick to the chest. Tryst turns to his winded rival, and runs an arm through him, knocking Fosta to the mat with a thud.

 

“A heavy clothesline turns the tides again for Tryst.”

 

“I don’t think he wants to brawl out here with Fosta Axis.”

 

Both climb to their feet and Fosta absorbs offence as he is backed to the rail. A loud, sharp chop echoes through the arena, followed by a Flair-like “whoo” from the crowd, and a cry of anguish from Fosta. His chest is exposed again and another backhand cuts through his chest.

 

Tryst loads him up for a whip, but it is reversed, and he hits the steel steps with a metallic crash. Fosta notices Tryst arching his back as a sharp sting shoots through it, before picking his mangled body from the train-wreck. With no remorse, Tryst is driven awkwardly into the ring apron back first. And a sharper-than-before pain shoots up Tryst’s body like a lightning bolt. Concerned, the referee begins ordering that the match be taken inside the ring, possibly regretting his decision to be lenient and not begin a 10-count.

 

Fosta complies, and Tryst is rolled into the ring. Fosta slithers under the ropes to him, and makes an eager cover, but after a one count, the bold Tryst denies Fosta an easy victory.

 

“Tryst kicks out easily.”

 

“It looks like Fosta has found a body part. He’s going to rip it apart now, Axis.”

 

“Not if Tryst can outsmart him.”

 

Fosta heaves Tryst from the mat, and murderously drops Tryst across his knee with a cruel pendulum backbreaker. Fosta doesn’t cover; he stands, and throws obscenities to the crowd, who respond with a loud, drowning “boo”. After turning his attention back to Tryst, who is painfully rising to his feet, he throws a heavy kick into his back, being paid with a moan of concern from the crowd. This also causes the ref to interfere, and he pulls Fosta to the side, warning him, and threatening him with a disqualification. Fosta brushes off the warning and returns to the job, as empty of empathy as a rock of water. He pulls Tryst to a standing position, who was nearly there himself, and pushes him against the ropes before hurtling him across the ring. Tryst comes back, and desperately launches himself into the air, bringing Fosta with him on the way down, executing a flying clothesline. The fans are in chorus as Fosta is clotheslined a second time, this time out of the ring, and a heroic Tryst finds himself some space to breath.

 

“Tryst has finally got a chance to regather himself after the continuous attack from Fosta.” Pleads Axis.

 

But Tryst doesn’t take the opportunity. Moments later the young man has launched himself off the ropes, and comes crashing onto a standing Fosta with a springboard plancha.

 

“What a move! A beautiful plancha by Tryst.”

 

“He doesn’t need a breather, Axis.”

 

With Fosta paying for his spineless offence, and Tryst paying for his exciting and death-defying leap, both men lie on the outside as the fans begin to chant.

 

“HOLY SH!T! HOLY SH!T! HOLY SH!T!”

 

Tryst soaks up the applause for his efforts as he rolls to his stomach and begins to climb to his feet. An instant replay feature finishes and we return to normal viewing to see Fosta being rolled into the ring like a victim into a shallow grave, and our suspect climbs to the apron. With the excitement of being slingshot uncounted feet into the air, and softening his landing with another human being, Tryst scales the turnbuckle and waits for Fosta to find a vertical base. He does, and of course, he turns to face a mid-air merry-man.

 

“Tryst airborne again, this time with a flying crossbody! He stays on for the count! But Fosta kicks out after a long two count King.”

 

“Tryst has a very restricted move set… all his moves begin with either ‘flying’ or ‘springboard’!”

 

Tryst grabs a handful of scruffy, randomly braided hair, and peels Fosta’s flattened body from the mat. He grabs Fosta’s arm and wrenches it behind his back, extracting a small yelp from him. Before Fosta has time to fight it, he is heaved into the air and dropped on his shoulders and arm with a textbook hammerlock belly-to-back suplex. But the pressure on his back causes the pain in Tryst’s back to begin to throb again, and he lies on the ground for a second, tending to it with a small stretch. A smile of satisfaction creeps through the painful mask covering his handsome face as he takes his time making the pin.

 

“A cover, this could be It for Fosta.”

 

“Two count. No way, heheh.”

 

The earlier work on the back bided Fosta some time... time that may have been needed after that move for him to kick out. Tryst begins to ponder the safety of attempting any more moves of a similar nature. An injured back could rule out vast amount of moves to be performed in comfort. He decides not to worry as he pulls Fosta off the mat. His decision may come back to haunt him in the match.

Fosta gathers his thoughts as he is brought to his feet and pushed to the corner. His corrupt mind plays scenarios over in his head…

 

Tryst fires a kick into Fosta’s midsection, bouncing of his ribs. A second is quickly thrown, but Fosta manages to catch most of the force of that on his forearm in a desperate attempt to block it. Thinking he knows where the third will come from, he prepares to block it, but Tryst shuffles his feet and after swapping his weight to the other leg, he fires another swift strike into Fosta’s exposed mid-section. As soon as his foot finds the mat, he launches himself into the air, and connects with a spinning heel kick right under Fosta’s jaw. Fosta is thrown back into the turnbuckle roughly, and holds his jaw. He pulls himself back up to find Tryst appealing to the crowd, and throws him into the turnbuckle in a frustrated fashion. He grabs the ropes, and pulls himself towards Tryst, throwing a back elbow across his jaw, then rears back a second time and crushes Tryst between the turnbuckle and his elbow with a stiff forearm, getting a sympathetic “awwh!” from the Australian audience.

 

“A rough forearm from Fosta. That was brutal.” Scoffs Axis in an uncomfortable tone.

 

“I love it! Hit him again!”

 

Fosta brushes his hair out of his face and paces to the other side of the ring, and finds Tryst’s face in his crosshairs. He takes a deep breath and begins to hurtle towards Tryst like a runaway train. His foot is thrown high into the air, and his two hundred and thirty five pound body finds itself trailing it. But Tryst is too quick. He evades Fosta at the last moment, and Fosta finds himself crutched on the turnbuckle in a wicked position.

 

“The is nothing we need to say. Every man watching knows what just happened to Fosta… it hurt.”

 

Fosta falls crippled to the mat, and Tryst casually picks him up. He pushes him into the turnbuckle, and grabs a wrist. He tries to maneuver Fosta across the ring with a whip, but Fosta reverses, and puts authority behind it. Tryst crashes into the turnbuckle back first, and comes stumbling out with his hand on his back. With one hand under Tryst’s armpit and the other over his shoulder, Fosta’s hands meet in a strong grip behind Tryst’s back, and after a moment, Tryst is hoisted over Fosta’s head. Tryst crashes to the mat at a dangerous angle, and his back is jolted at impact.

 

“What a textbook suplex by Fosta!” Praises Axis.

 

“He has Tryst in trouble!”

 

Fosta scrambles across the ring and makes a cover, hooking Tryst’s leg eagerly. He only manages to get a two count. However, and he rolls off Tryst onto his hands and knees to catch his breath. Tryst begins to climb to his feet, but Fosta drags him back to the mat, and digs a knee into the middle of his back. He grabs Tryst’s two arms, and as Tryst sits, facing away from Fosta, his face contorts in pain, and he groans loudly.

 

“Fosta getting some small rest time and keeping the pressure on the back.”

 

Caught, Tryst can do nothing but shake his head against submitting as the referee questions him. A drip of sweat falls from his head as he does, and he breathes heavily. Fosta, also breathing heavily, insists that the referee continue to ask Tryst.

 

“Tryst is going to hold on. His back has been worked all match, and he still isn’t giving in.”

 

Frustrated, Fosta lets go of Tryst’s arms. He drives his knee hard into Tryst’s back, and Tryst falls to the mat.

 

“Fosta just kneed Tryst right in the spine! What a dastardly strike!”

 

“Fosta’s just doing what he can to win the match, Axis.”

 

“That doesn’t justify something like that. Tryst’s career could be ended with a move like that!”

 

“A risk every man takes when stepping into that ring.”

 

The crowd continues to boo Fosta as he makes his way to the turnbuckle. He makes it to the top, and begins to stand facing the crowd, when Tryst lunges towards him, and knock his feet out from underneath him. Fosta falls and lands on the ropes, bouncing off the turnbuckle and the mat, landing upside down on his head, neck and shoulders in a brutal fashion.

 

“Tryst knocks him off the turnbuckle! He’s back alive, and livid!”

 

The fans are electric as Fosta climbs to his feet to be Thrust kicked in the solar plexus, and sent to the canvas again from a stiff kick, to an “oah!” from the fans. After falling and landing sickeningly from the turnbuckle, and having his chest caved in with a kick, Fosta staggers to his feet again to see Tryst soar through the air and land on his shoulders.

 

“A hurricanrana from the top turnbuckle! Tryst is on fire now King!” Axis yelps in a pant wetting excitement.

 

“Fosta has no answer anymore Axis!”

 

Somehow Fosta climbs to his feet after quite some time, to a wild kick from Tryst. The high front-kick catches Fosta at the top of his chest, nearly in the neck, and he is saved from falling by the ropes. Tryst eagerly attempts a whip, but he is reversed. The young superstar-to-be comes off the ropes and ducks an exhausted attempt at a clothesline, and finds the ropes again. He is shot off the ropes, and comes back at Fosta to deliver a headscissors. He launches at Fosta, but Fosta avoids the headscissors. No Tryst begins t panic as he is maneuvered through the air. He begins to fall, and grabs desperately at thin air, but can’t slow himself down.

 

He lands on Fosta’s knee.

 

Tryst bounces off Fosta’s knee after a sadistic tornado backbreaker, onto his stomach. He lays there motionless. It feels like his back can’t move, and all he can do is lie there and stare out at the fans, who are on their feet, peering into the ring, worried.

 

“Oh no, Tryst has been hurt King. The referee should think of ending this match.” Suggests Axis sympathetically.

 

“As I said before, a consequence you have to risk when stepping through those ropes… but maybe he should…”

 

But his back can move. Fosta proves this by sitting on his back, and reaching around , gripping his hands around Tryst’s chin. Tryst’s spine is bent back the wrong way as Fosta strains. All Tryst can do is pry at Fosta’s grip. He does this until Fosta pulls back on his chin properly. A back that was smashed into steel steps, sent hurtling into the ring apron, and dropped from five feet onto a knee, is arced back at a frightening angle, and Tryst; young, brave, charismatic, talented... is forced to submit.

 

DING DING DING!

 

“Your winner… Fosstaaa!” Bellows Funyon over the booing crowd.

 

But Fosta won’t let go. The fans boo loudly at the pathetic excuse for a human as he grins disgustingly, applying pressure to the hold. Quickly, the referee forces him to break the hold, by kicking him in the arm. He drops the hold, and stands intimidating to his feet. The referee bawls at him as he stands inches from him. Then with a stone-faced expression, he shoves the referee, who falls to the mat and slides on the canvas.

 

“And now he’s assaulting the referee… well isn’t Fosta a big man.”

 

Fosta’s music comes over the speakers; a melancholy melody that will soon be synonymous with his name. He climbs the second turnbuckle, with his hands at his side, and looks out over the audience, who boo in unison. It brings another smile to Fosta’s face before he steps down and makes his way up the rampway with his first win under his belt.

[Guest Aecas]

Heres my match, though I still think i could have done better.

 

Wrath comes back from commercial and the cameras plays around the Sydney Opera House moving over the sea of screaming Australian fans and waving signs. After a few minutes the cameras centre on the entranceway as “Grind” by Alice in Chains starts to play, and Chris Card confidently strolls through the entranceway closely followed by Natasha. Natasha’s much abused neck has finally healed and she has discarded the neck brace as she strolls out next to Card who looks even smugger than usual clad in a referee’s shirt. As a final touch the European title is securely strapped around his waist.

 

Axis: “Welcome back ladies and gentleman to the Sydney Opera House! Chris Card making his way to ringside to be the guest referee in this Number One contenders contest for the European title.”

 

King: “Smart move by Card he’s scouting out possible competition by officiating this match.”

 

Axis: “I have to wonder if he’s going to call the match down the middle.”

 

Card and Natasha are halfway to the ring amidst the loud boos and jeers of the crowd as Funyon climbs into the ring to make his announcement.

 

Funyon: “The following match is scheduled for one fall and is to determine the number one contender for the European Championship! Making his way to the ring, being accompanied by Natasha. He is the Special Guest Referee, “Technical perfection”, Chris Card!

 

The crowd boo louder as Card is introduced, Chris stops to lift the ropes for Natasha as she steps into the ring raising her arms and showing off for the crowd. Natasha holds her pose for a moment before pointing at Chris Card as he slides into his Heartbreaker pose, crouched in a fighting stance, arms crossed across his chest, thumbs pointing towards his heart. Slowly breaking from his pose Card waits as Natasha unstraps the European title from around his waist, keeping it with her for safekeeping.

 

Axis: “Chris Card certainly looks confident tonight.”

 

King: “And he should be, you’re forgetting he’s coming off a huge win against Janus. He made the big man tap out!”

 

Axis: “That match wasn’t without interference.”

 

King: “Get with the program Axis, a win is a win no matter how you get it.”

 

Chris Card’s music slowly fades to be replaced by Breaking Benjamin’s “Polyamorous” as the arena lights begin to flicker. As all eyes turn to the entranceway pyros explode around the entrance, and Sean Atlas comes striding out onto the aisle. The crowd erupts once more as Atlas is booed all the way down the aisle; Atlas’ only reaction to this treatment is to look at the crowd an arrogant smile plastered on his face. Atlas pauses for a moment to snatch an AECAS sign from a young fan, Atlas laughs as the boy tries to grab for his sign before ripping it into pieces and throwing it to the floor.

 

Axis: “Atlas showing total disrespect for his opponent.”

 

King: “What’s to respect? He beat the guy at Metal remember?”

 

Atlas continues on to the ring laughing as the fans start up an “Asshole” chant after his actions with the sign. Atlas climbs into the ring, acknowledging Card with a quick nod before running off the ropes a few times to warm himself up. Rob Zombie’s “Superbeast” hits the speakers and the crowd start to cheer as the lights flash red. Aecas appears in front of the entranceway for a moment surrounded by boiling curls of smoke and red light. Instead of walking to the ring Aecas sprints down the aisle sliding into the ring and going straight after Sean Atlas.

 

Axis: “Aecas isn’t going to wait for the bell! Here he comes!”

 

Sean Atlas meets Aecas toe to toe as the pair start going at it hammering punches left and right as Chris Card signals for the bell to be rung. Atlas matches up to Aecas for a few moments before the bigger man gets the upper hand, blocking one punch and hammering his fist into Atlas’ face again and again driving him back into the corner. Chris Card moves in to drag Aecas away from the corner sparking a face off between the two; neither man gives an inch until Atlas sails past Card hitting Aecas with a bulldog.

 

Axis: “Bad move by Aecas there taking his eyes off his opponent to ague with the referee.”

 

King: “That’s what cost him his debut match. If the dumb shmuck can’t concentrate on what he’s doing he deserves everything he gets.”

 

Atlas stamps hard on Aecas as he tries to rise up, eventually hauling him up and tossing him outside the ring following his opponent as Chris Card starts the count out, Natasha moving out of the way. Atlas picks Aecas up again and Irish Whips him sending the larger man hurtling into the steel ring steps, the arena filled with the sound of crashing metal as Aecas smashes into them.

 

Card: “One!……….Two!…….Three!…..”

 

Atlas picks up the stairs and smashes them against Aecas’ back, the masked wrestler seemingly repeating his actions at Metal as his opponent writhes in pain.

 

Card: “Four!……Five!”

 

Atlas slides back into the ring leaving Aecas on the outside clutching at his back, Atlas starts to taunt the crowd as Card counts out Aecas.

Card: “Six!…..Seven!”

 

Aecas slowly gets to his feet and starts to climb into the ring until a baseball slide from Atlas knocks him right back down. Chris Card breaks off his count as Atlas goes back to the outside and throws Aecas back in the ring, immediately going for a pin.

 

ONE!….

 

TWO!….NO!

 

Aecas throws Atlas off of him and gets back to his feet favouring his back slightly before Atlas knocks him back down with a clothesline, Aecas gets up quickly but is again levelled by a hard clothesline.

 

Axis: “Sean Atlas not giving his opponent a chance to fight back.”

 

King; “Smart move, you give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.”

 

Atlas quickly pounces on his fallen opponent seeing an opportunity to do more damage to Aecas’ already weakened back, he grabs the larger wrestlers legs and steps through crossing the legs and flipping Aecas over into a Sharpshooter. Aecas raises up on his hands crying out in agony as the painful submission hold is locked in, Atlas leans back hard putting more pressure on Aecas’ back. Chris Card asks Aecas if he wants to give up making the big man shake his head and shout no.

 

Atlas keeps the pressure on as Aecas begins to crawl towards the ropes Card asking him again and again if he wants to give up. Aecas refuses to give in eventually grabbing the ropes, a fact that Natasha is quick to point out to Card who breaks up the hold.

 

Atlas starts to scuff Aecas’ head with his boots, taunting the big man as he slowly gets up to his knees, Aecas looks up as Atlas drags him back to his feet. Atlas whips Aecas towards the ropes but has the move reversed, he ducks a huge lariat from Aecas but runs right into a stiff spinebuster blasting the air from his lungs.

 

Axis: “Hard Spinebuster! Aecas trying to battle back!”

 

Taking heart from the cheers the crowd is giving him Aecas pulls Atlas back up stunning his opponent with a vicious headbutt, before shoving his head down and grabbing him around the middle. Aecas hoists Atlas up before powerbombing him hard into the canvas, Aecas holds on and roars as he hoists Atlas up again in a display of sheer power, before sending his opponent crashing down to the mat again. Aecas drops to his knees as Atlas lays stunned hooking a leg into a quick cover.

 

ONE!….

 

TWO!….

 

THREEENO!

 

Atlas kicks out at the last second frustrating Aecas who immediately grabs Atlas by the hair and starts to pull him up, Atlas rises up to one knee before he savagely low blows Aecas. Aecas groans and slumps as Chris Card stands back and laughs wagging a finger but taking no other action as the crowd boo both Atlas and Chris Card.

 

King: “You see Axis? Card is perfect to referee a match.”

 

Axis: “What? He took no action against that low blow!”

 

King: “He must have had grit in his eye or something.”

 

Axis: “…..”

 

Aecas slowly gets to his feet trying to ignore the aching pain in his crotch as he sees Atlas lining him up, Atlas moves back a step then darts forward one foot rising to meet Aecas’ chin in a Superkick. Aecas sees the move coming and catches the foot with both hands; Atlas looks panicked for a moment as Aecas throws the leg away from him spinning Atlas around. Aecas locks his arms around Atlas’ next as the masked wrestler spins around to face him, before Aecas can hit the move he feels hands on his back pushing him away into the ropes.

 

As Aecas runs towards him Atlas kicks him hard in the gut stopping him dead, Atlas wraps an arm around Aecas’ head intending to DDT him into the mat. Aecas struggles and punches Atlas in the stomach before latching his arms around Atlas’ waist. Aecas snaps his body backwards taking Atlas with him in a Northern Lights Suplex, pinning his opponent with a bridge after the impact.

 

ONE!….

 

TWO!…….NO!

 

Axis: “Atlas kicks out after an impressive display of reversals. Superkick blocked, Diamond Cutter pushed away, and a DDT countered into a Northern Lights.”

 

King: “No a bad display, but Chris Card could still do better you know why?”

 

Axis: “Because he’s “Technical Perfection”….”

 

King: “Damn right.”

 

Aecas pulls Atlas back up to his feet shoving Atlas’ head between his legs before lifting him up to his shoulders in a powerbomb position, Aecas moves to hit the Powerbomb but Atlas halts the attempt by slamming punches into Aecas’ exposed face. Aecas’ grip weakens enough for Atlas to wrap an arm around his neck and swing around before planting Aecas headfirst into the canvas.

 

Axis: “Tornado DDT! Excellent counter to the powerbomb!”

 

King: “He’s going for the pin! This should be it!”

 

Atlas jumps on top of Aecas in a lateral press as Chris Card makes the count.

 

ONE!….

 

TWO!….

 

On the outside of the ring Natasha grabs one of Aecas’ legs and places it on the ropes, she quickly shouts getting the attention of Card who breaks up the pinfall. Atlas breaks up the pin pulling Aecas to his feet before whipping him into the ropes once again hitting him with a huge Sweep Spinebuster. Atlas grabs Aecas’ legs intending to lock on the Sharpshooter once again, Aecas bends his legs bringing Atlas closer before pushing him away hard into the corner.

 

Slowly getting to his feet Aecas looks at Natasha seeming slightly confused from her help earlier, Natasha just shrugs and smiles. Aecas returns the smile before turning his attention back to Atlas who lays propped up in the corner, Aecas charges towards Atlas who steps aside at the last possible instant as Aecas slams chest first into the top turnbuckle. Seeing Aecas off balance Atlas locks his arms around his opponent’s waist before heaving backwards, taking Aecas off his feet with a German Suplex.

 

Aecas clutches the back of his head for a moment before rising back to his feet and glaring at Atlas, anger starting to permeate his normally blank face. Atlas makes a clothesline attempt, but Aecas ducks and almost decapitates Atlas with a Big Boot as he bounces off the ropes. Atlas gets to his feet groggily as Aecas grabs an arm whipping him into the corner so he hits face first.

 

Stepping up behind him, Aecas lifts him onto the top turnbuckle before climbing up himself, Atlas retaliates with several elbows to the midsection. Aecas replies in turn with hard punches to the head, he moves up behind Atlas, both men standing on the top turnbuckle as Aecas crouches and lifts Atlas falling backwards into a Back Drop from the top. Atlas twists out of Aecas’ grip in mid air and the pair land hard on the mat, Aecas first then Atlas hitting a modified splash on the bigger man.

 

Axis: “Reversal in mid-air! Great counter by Atlas!”

 

Atlas lays on top of Aecas for a moment before slowly moving up and starting to climb up to the top turnbuckle himself.

 

Axis: “Atlas making his own way to the top now.”

 

King: “What’s he looking for a Moonsault?”

 

Axis: “Whatever he’s looking for he had better hurry, Natasha seems to be motivating Aecas.”

 

Natasha has succeeded in getting the fans riled up and behind Aecas as he gets up slowly, seeing Atlas poised on the top turnbuckle Aecas quickly runs into the ropes making Atlas crotch himself on the top. Natasha continues to cheerlead for Aecas getting a strange look from Chris Card who moves to the side of the ring to ask her what she is thinking.

 

With Card distracted with Natasha, Aecas quickly moves over to the corner as Atlas is slowly raising himself off of the turnbuckle. Aecas ducks underneath Atlas before rising and grabbing his opponent’s legs, Aecas starts to move away from the corner, Atlas perched on his shoulders and waving his arms franticly as the ropes are taken away from his feet. Chris Card turns away from Natasha long enough to see Aecas run across the length of the ring and deliver a devastating Running Powerbomb to Sean Atlas.

 

King: “Atlas’ head just bounced off the mat!”

 

Axis: “Aecas has a leg hooked this has to be it! ONE! TWO! THREE-NO! Atlas kicked out! God how close was that!”

 

King: “To close to call, Atlas is driven to win this match.”

 

Axis: “Both men are driven King, they both want a shot at the European title.”

 

Aecas again rails on Chris Card arguing that he had the match won with that move, Chris Card puts on a face of innocence and points to his referee shirt. Card tells Aecas in no uncertain terms that if he keeps this up he’ll get himself disqualified, Aecas glares at Card’s smug grin for a moment before turning back to Atlas once more.

 

Atlas is getting to his feet using the ropes to pull himself up, Aecas crouches on the other side of the ring urging Atlas to stand up and turn around. As soon as Atlas is on his feet Aecas charges across the ring fully intent on Goring him, unfortunately luck is not with Aecas as Atlas sees the charge and drops to the mat holding the ropes down. Atlas trips his opponent sending Aecas flying through the parted ropes to crash into the crowd barrier.

 

Atlas slides out of the ring as Chris Card once again begins a 10 count, Natasha watches Atlas and Aecas from the outside something akin to concern crossing her face. Atlas puts the boot in stamping on Aecas several times before peeling back the protective mats, exposing the hard concrete floor beneath.

 

Axis: “Sean Atlas is exposing the concrete this can’t bode well for Aecas!”

 

Tossing the covering aside Atlas drags Aecas over to the bare concrete floor smashing a fist into the bigger mans kidneys, Atlas shoves Aecas’ head between his legs and hooks one arm and then the other behind his back.

 

King: “Its Pedigree time!”

 

Axis: “If Sean Atlas hits this its over!”

 

Atlas sneers at the crowd as he prepares to drop Aecas onto his face; Aecas struggles against Atlas and finally frees his arms. Aecas pulls hard at the back of Atlas’ knees sending the masked wrestler toppling onto the concrete, arching his back in pain from the landing. Aecas gets a firm grip on Atlas’ legs looking down at his opponent for a moment before falling backwards and catapulting Atlas face first into the ring post.

 

Axis: “What an impact! That may have broken his nose!”

 

King: “The tides turning Axis, and Chris Card is up to 8! Is Aecas looking for a count out?”

 

Aecas hears Card count Nine and quickly slides into and then straight back out of the ring breaking up the count out. Card looks vaguely annoyed at having to start the count again but does so as Aecas drags Atlas to the ring apron, rolling his opponent back into the ring. Atlas shakes his head; blood seeping from his nostrils from the knock his nose took against the post. Seeing the blood on his fingers Atlas’ eyes widen slightly and he surges back to his feet, Aecas straightens up after stepping through the ropes, only to be met with a huge Belly-To-Belly-Suplex.

 

Wasting no time as Aecas crashes down onto the mat doing more harm to his already damaged back, Atlas quickly ascends to the top rope checking Aecas position before launching himself from the top rope.

 

Axis: “big, big Moonsault by Sean Atlas!”

 

King: “Fall from Grace! He’s hooking a leg!”

 

Atlas has Aecas in a lateral press but props both his legs onto the second rope as Chris Card begins the count.

 

ONE!…..

 

TWO!….

 

Before Card can count three Natasha grabs a leg and shakes him pointing to Atlas’ legs on the ropes. Card orders Atlas to break up the pin, but takes no action against the illegal rope usage.

 

Axis: “Natasha again helping Aecas out.”

 

King: “What? Whose side is she on?”

 

Atlas glares at Natasha until Card makes him back off, Atlas turns around to feel a large hand wrapping itself around his throat as Aecas rises to his feet once more. Aecas throws Atlas’ left arm over his shoulder preparing to hoist him up into a Chokeslam, Atlas quickly counters with an elbow to Aecas’ temple. As the big man staggers, Atlas lines up for a Superkick and nearly takes Aecas’ head off with the impact. Aecas drops straight to the mat and rolls out of the ring to the floor, Atlas follows quickly trying to drag Aecas back into the ring.

 

Aecas is shaking his head and rubbing his jaw as he feels hands gripping his hair and dragging him upright again, Atlas hauls Aecas back underneath the ropes and quickly goes for a cover. Chris Card counts one before Aecas throws of Atlas, pausing to rub his jaw once again Aecas kicks Atlas hard in the gut and goes for the Diamond Cutter. Atlas blocks the attempt pushing Aecas away into the ropes, Aecas ducks aside as Atlas tries for another Superkick.

 

Aecas acts before Atlas can rectify his mistake, Aecas’ arms wrap around Atlas’ neck and take him straight down into the Diamond Cutter!

 

Axis: “Diamond Cutter! Out of nowhere he hit the Diamond Cutter!”

 

Aecas jumps onto his stunned opponent rolling him up as Chris Card makes the count.

 

ONE!….

 

TWO!….

 

THREE!….

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

Funyon: “The winner of the match, and the number one contender for the European championship. AECAS!”

 

The Australian crowd erupts as Aecas gets to his feet and raises his arms in victory, Rob Zombie’s “Superbeast” start booming through the speakers once again, as Aecas stands victorious in the ring. Slowly turning around Aecas again locks eyes with Chris Card, as Natasha enters the ring strapping the belt back around Card’s waist. Card smiles as he feels the gold back around his waist once more, he shows off the belt before stepping toe to toe with Aecas. Both men stare into the others eyes for a long, long moment, before a slight smile spreads across Aecas’ face. He turns away from Card giving a respectful nod to Natasha, before exiting the ring and walking up the aisle to the cheers of the crowd.

 

Axis: “A rather peaceful exchange between challenger and champion there.”

 

King: “What about Natasha?”

 

Axis: “Do you just think about women?”

 

King: “Do you just think about sheds?”

 

Axis: “….”

 

King: “My point exactly, now shut up and let’s enjoy the Kangaroo Jack Punishment match up next.”