SJL Wrath, March 23rd, 2003!

March 24, 2003

Card:

Opening Match

#1 Contendership Match - SJL Television Title

Fosta vs. Geddion

Description: Fosta and Geddion both suffered hard losses on Metal. Fosta fell short against Aaron Carpenter, and Geddion lost to Quiet Death. Both get a chance here to get back into the swing of things with a crack at the Television title on the line.

Rules: Singles match. Regular DQ and countout rules apply.

SJL Television Championship

"Dark Rebel" Terry Wayne © vs. John Duran

Description: Wayne picked up the victory over Omega Storm and John Duran in impressive fashion on Metal, becoming the second TV champion since the belt was reactivated. Wayne should know by now that the TV champion is a fighting champion at all times, and his first challenger will be none other than the man he pinned. John Duran gets his second shot at the title in as many shows in what should be a great showing.

Rules: Singles match. Regular DQ and countout rules apply.

Tag Match

Dace Night & "Picture Perfect" Aaron Carpenter vs. Omega Storm & Quiet Death

Description: The new #1 contender to the SJL World Championship is Va'aiga, but it seems the Maori got just a little seasick during that big Lost at Sea match, so he has asked for this show off. The World title match will be delayed, and tonight Dace keeps busy, tagging up with green rookie Aaron Carpenter to take on former TV champion Omega Storm, and a winner from Metal, Quiet Death.

Rules: Standard tag match. Regular DQ and countout rules apply.

#1 Contendership - SJL European Title

"Hollywood" Spike Jenkins vs. Kaine

Description: Apparently Tryst beat Christian Blackwell for a shot at the European title, but here at the SJL we try to keep quality competition around for the second most prestigious belt. Let's see which of these two gets the next shot at the belt. Play nice, people.

Rules: Singles match. Standard DQ and countout rules apply.

MAIN EVENT

SJL European Championship

Sean Atlas © vs. Tryst

Description: Tryst gets his shot here against Sean Atlas for European gold, and also participates in his first SJL main event! Will the odd chap from Sherwood Forest wind up as the next champion? Will Sean Atlas make a run for the longest European title reign ever? Will Angelus be restored to his former self? Stay tuned Sunday night for SJL WRATH!

Rules: Singles match. Standard DQ and countout rules apply.

March 24, 2003

A deep voice intones over a black screen “The following is a message from the Memphis Eel.”

The scene fades in to find the Memphis Eel walking in front of the camera with a blank blue wall behind him. He’s wearing his customary jumpsuit, rose-colored glasses and various rings on his fingers. He adjusts the rhinestone belt around his ripe like a watermelon beer gut before speaking. “Geddion and Fosta are not wrestling tonight because they’re a pair of reefer smokin’ porch monkeys!”

The Memphis Eel exits the way he came in as the scene fades back to black and the narrator says, “This has been a message from the Memphis Eel.”

March 24, 2003

Axis: “Now that we have a new #1 contender to the SJL World Television Title, it’s time to find out who that man will be facing. This is for all the marbles in a heated feud that has boiled to a climax, and that climax will occur here tonight. Can you feel the excitement King?”

King: “I haven’t been this excited since…um…the last match, but anyway, I’m pumped, you’re pumped. Lets get it over with it already!”

Funyon: “The following contest is for the SJL WORLD…TELEVISIONNNNN…CHAMPIONSHIPPPP!!!!!! It is scheduled for one fall with a 60 minute time limit…”

The rabid crowd becomes silent until the opening chords of “Sinner” by Drowning Pool begin to play over the sound system. The entire arena erupts into a chorus of boos as John Duran makes his way to the stage.

Funyon: “Coming down the aisle…From Champaign, Illinois, weighing two-hundred and sixty five pounds…JOHN DURANNNNNN!!!!”

Duran power walks to the ring, pointing at the camera, telling the people at home what he’s going to do to Terry Wayne.

Axis: “It’s almost like the title itself has become secondary to the game of oneupsmanship between these two young competitors. Two weeks ago, after the #1 contendership tag match, Duran attacked Wayne from behind. Bitter about being blindsided, Wayne stole the very thing that Duran valued most, the SJL World Television title, in front of a packed house in Worchester. This week, Duran looks to try to avenge his defeat last week and achieve his main goal of becoming a champion. One man stands in his way. The man that, without a doubt, has been the primary figure in his nightmares for the past 5 days since falling in defeat in that match. He was telling me earlier, that he can still see his cold emotionless eyes staring through him when he sees his reflection. He can still hear the ref slapping his hand down for the third time, telling him that he has lost. Tonight, either the nightmares will turn to dreams of future glory, or they will haunt him to his dying days as a wrestler.”

King: “Surely, a lot is at stake here. I think that the crowd has turned Wayne soft. If that’s the case, we will see a new world television champion tonight. My money is on Duran. Pussies don’t prosper here in the SJL. Leave that to the other nickel and dime feds.”

Duran enters the ring and begins staring at the entryway, pacing back and forth. The lights begin to dim to the tune of “Hurt” by Johnny Cash as the crowd erupts.

Funyon: “Making his way to the ring…From Norfolk, Virginia, weighing in tonight at one-hundred and thirty pounds…The SJL WORLD TELEVISION CHAMPION!!!! THE DARK REBELLLLLL…TERRYYYYYY WAYNEEEEEEE!”

Terry pushes his way through the curtain and enters the arena to a roaring ovation from the Pittsburgh crowd. He seems unfazed by the reaction as his eyes are dead set on the center of the ring and John Duran. He makes it to the ring and rolls right in, keeping a safe distance from the challenger. He takes the belt off and raises it the air, with his eyes still locked on John Duran. Duran is visibly seething at the sight of Terry with the SJL World Television Championship. The bell finally rings as the referee grabs the title from Terry and both men begin to move in cautiously. Terry makes the first move, going for a single leg takedown, but it’s dodged by the challenger. With Terry still on the mat, Duran takes the opportunity to spit right in his face. Terry rolls back to the corner, wiping the spit from his brow as Duran moves back to the center of the ring challenging him to a Test of Strength. Terry inches in slowly and raises his hand toward Duran’s. Instead of engaging him, he slaps him right in the mouth to a loud “Ohhhhh” from the crowd. Duran shoves Terry and the referee steps in between the two combatants, demanding that they lock up. The two men lock up, and Duran begins muscling the champ into the turnbuckle. With Wayne locked in the corner, Duran releases the lock up and starts pelting him in his ribs with hard punches. Duran whips Terry to the opposite corner and charges after him, but the champ rebounds with a high knee lift, knocking the challenger back. The Dark Rebel continues the assault with a flurry of lefts, then a roundhouse right, flooring the challenger some more. Duran begins to stagger, but has yet to be knocked to the mat. Terry hits the ropes and goes for a clothesline, but it’s ducked, and he is met with a hard clothesline from Duran. Duran bounces off of the ropes and lands a vicious elbow drop on the champion. He goes for a quick cover, but only gets 1 and a ½. Duran follows up by grabbing the long locks of Terry Wayne and whipping him towards the corner. The challenger stalks him into the corner and begins stomping a mudhole into the champion. The referee pulls him off and Wayne rolls to the outside clutching his ribs.

Axis: “John Duran has come into this match with a purpose and is clearly holding a decisive advantage over the Television Champion.”

King: “I told you Axis. This boy has lost his edge. Duran is going to the pay window. The only window Terry Wayne is going to be seeing is the window on the side of the bus on the long ride back to Norfolk.”

Duran walks to the ropes and begins screaming at the flustered champion…

John Duran: “You have something that is mine boy! Give up while you can still walk!”

This verbal lashing seemed to have sparked something in Wayne. He rolls back into the ring and they lock up again with Duran abusing his power advantage, muscling Terry towards the corner. Right before he shoves him into the corner, Terry reverses the lock up and nails Duran with a stiff throat thrust. With the challenger still clutching his throat, Terry grabs his head and slides his eyes along the top rope. He then grabs the temporarily blinded Duran and whips him to the ropes. In a sudden burst of speed, Terry launches himself toward the challenger and nails a lariat, making him wobbly. The champ follows up by hopping to the second rope and dropping a double axe handle onto the head of John Duran. Duran finally hits the mat to the approval of the Pittsburgh crowd. Wayne goes for a cover, but Duran presses him high into the air at the count of two. Duran makes it to his feet and cracks the champion with a huge forearm smash to the champ’s weakened ribs. Wayne staggers to the ropes, and again, Duran is on the hunt. Duran lifts the champ onto his chest and sends him sailing across the ring with a high angle body slam. The challenger rushes over to Terry and throws him over the top rope with only one hand. Terry fights to get up on the floor with the fans cheering him on. Above him he can see Duran climbing after him. Before he can make another move, Duran clutches his hands around his waist and drives him into the steel barricade. Keeping him in his grasp, Duran powers Terry into the steel post before throwing him back into the ring. The Dark Rebel is almost in tears from the pain, trying to pull his way to his feet with the ropes. Not allowing Terry the chance to get up, Duran crushes the champion’s ribs with an uppercut. Duran pulls Terry up by his tights and cinches in a deep Bearhug to gasps from the audience in attendance. The champion’s screams of pain bring a smile to the face of John Duran.

King: “You see that face Terry Wayne?! That is the face of the new SJL World Television Champion! I hope you enjoyed that belt for the 5 days that you had it, you homeless punk!”

Agony is etched across the Dark Rebel’s as he gasps for air, each breath getting deeper and deeper. The referee asks him if he submits, but Terry says nothing. Duran’s powerful arms lock tighter around Wayne’s diaphragm, the less he breathes. His eyes begin to shut from the lack of oxygen and he grows limp in the vice-like lock of the challenger. The referee lifts his arm once and it drops quickly to the side…

Crowd: “Terry, Terry, Terry…”

The ref lifts his arm a second time and gets the same result…

Crowd: “TERRY, TERRY, TERRY…”

Anthony Michael Hall shakes his head and lifts Terry Wayne’s arm one final time, but like a phoenix, he awakens, to a huge pop from the audience. Terry fires a hard shot to the skull of the challenger, but Duran keeps it locked. He fires a second shot to the same result, so Terry pops him with an earclap, sending the challenger reeling, breaking the hold. Terry follows up with a spinning neckbreaker, crashing Duran’s neck into the canvas. The champion bounces off of the ropes and fractures Duran with a fistdrop. He goes for a cover, but gets 2 and a ½. The Dark Rebel twirls his hand over his head signaling for the DDT.

Axis: “New champion huh?”

King: “Is the match over yet Axis? No! Terry Wayne doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

The Dark Rebel locks in the front facelock, but Duran hoists him into the air and crumples the champ into the canvas with a brutal spine buster to a loud sigh from the packed crowd in attendance. He goes for a cover…

Crowd: “one…”

Crowd: “two…”

Crowd: “thr…no”

Terry kicks out at the last second and the challenger grows frustrated by his resilience. Duran lifts him up and whips him to the corner. Through the champ’s glazed eyes, he can see Duran in a crouched position in the opposite corner. Duran charges in, but like a matador, Terry slips out of the way of the attempted spear tackle. Showing surprising foresight, Duran puts on the brakes instead of colliding with the post. When he turns around, he is met by a sleep hold from The Dark Rebel. Wayne locks it in tight to cheers from the fans, but Duran proves to be too strong. He lifts the champ and drops him to the mat with a side suplex, breaking up the attempted submission. Duran goes for a cover, but only gets a 2 count. With Terry’s ribs almost shattered, the challenger slides his thumb across his throat, signaling for the Break Point.

Axis: “With Terry’s ribs in the condition that they are in, I’m not sure that he can withstand much of this hold. Even so, I can’t remember ever seeing the Dark Rebel quit.”

Duran lifts the champion up from behind and locks in a full nelson. He tries lifting him, but Terry hooks Duran’s leg with his own in an attempt to block it. Duran tries lifting him again, but Terry persists. In a last desperate attempt to free himself, he scores with a low blow, knocking Duran to the canvas. The champion begins showing fire, firing rapid lefts and rights to the rising challenger. After a kick to Duran’s gut, Terry scores with a hangman’s neck breaker. He goes for a cover, but only gets a 2 count. Terry scales the second rope and flies off with a knee drop across the challenger’s throat. Terry goes for another cover for a very close 2 count. The champion is now showing signs of frustration as he signals for The Fatal Flaw. He quickly wraps his hands around Duran’s waist, and tries to snap him up for the piledriver, but Duran is too big and his back is in too much pain. After several long seconds of trying, Terry gets back body dropped out of it, and things are looking grim for the champion.

King: “Ha ha, he can’t even hit the Fatal Flaw! This one is in the bag!”

Duran shoves Terry into the corner and pounds his ribs with several more vicious body shots. Once the champion is beaten to his liking, he whips him to the opposite corner and again crouches down for a spear into the corner. Terry is having trouble keeping himself on his feet. Duran’s sees the weakened champion struggle from across the ring and smiles once more, knowing that possible his time has come. The challenger lunges and crushes Terry in the corner with a spear tackle. Terry flops out of the corner onto his face and Duran raises his fist into the air, realizing that this is the final moment and the champion can take no more. The crowd becomes disgusted at the thought and begins pelting garbage at the man who could potentially be the new World Television Champion. Duran goes for a cover.

Crowd: “ONE…”

Crowd: “TWO…”

Crowd: “THREE…”

Crowd: “…NOOOOOOO!”

Terry gets his foot on the ropes at the last millisecond. Duran hooks his leg but only get a 2 count again.

Duran: “Damn you, you son of a bitch! That belt is mine, don’t you see that you have nothing left?! I have special plans for you, you bastard!”

Duran again signal for the Break point. He lock in a half nelson, and somehow, through the skin of his teeth, The Dark Rebel twists the challenger’s arm and blasts him out of nowhere with a short arm clothesline. Terry crawls over slowly to the champion and attempts a pinfall for a 2 count. The champion makes it to his feet and whips the big man to the ropes. Terry bounces off of the opposite ropes and goes for his patented flying lariat. Duran catches the champion in mid-flight and busts him into the center of the ring with a big time power slam. He goes for a cover, but only gets a two count again.

Duran: That’s it, it’s Crash Landing time!”

Axis: “Good lord king! He’s calling for the Crash Landing! He’s going for his last resort move!”

King: “I won’t be attending that loser’s funeral, that’s for sure. It’ll probably be in a refrigerator box in an alley somewhere anyway.”

The heat grows louder as Duran stands above Terry Wayne, staring a hole right through him as the champ gasps for air on the ground. Duran begins to laugh and, for one final time, he muscles Terry into the corner.

Duran: “I’ve been waiting 2 weeks for this! Goodbye Terry Wayne.”

The challenger hoists Wayne to the top rope and slaps him right in the face. Terry doesn’t fight back. Duran laughs again and scales the second rope. He hooks Terry’s head under his arm and stares out to the masses, watching them jeer and make catcalls as he prepares to finish off their new found anti-hero. He lifts his head back as he feels Terry grow limper and limper into his clutches and slices his throat one final time. Duran hoists Terry onto his massive shoulders…

Terry: “Once again brother, not today, and not ever…”

Terry begins to shake to the shock of John Duran as the fans explode.

Duran: “SCREW YOU REBEL!!!!”

Duran flies out of the corner with Terry still on his shoulders, preparing to Death Valley Driver him straight to hell, but, in mid air, Terry swings around and DDT’s his skull straight into the mat. Duran sprawls onto the mat motionless as The Dark Rebel takes a deep breath and crosses Duran’s arms over his chest for a cover…

Crowd: “ONEEEEE…”

Crowd: “TWOOOOOO…”

Crowd: “THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

The crowd noise once again overshadows the deep voice of Country music legend Johnny Cash, but Terry again seems unfazed as he kneels beside Duran, staring into his face as he lies in a heap in the center of the ring. The referee tries handing Terry his gold, but the champion continues staring.

Funyon: “YOUR WINNER…AND STILL SJL…WORLD…TELEVISION…CHAMPIONNNNNNN! THE DARK REBELLLLL…TERRYYYYYY WAYNEEEEEE…”

Wayne finally makes a move, snatching the microphone away from Funyon.

Terry Wayne: “ I’ve seen them all; big and small, you and old. Their hearts so consumed with greed that it overshadows their being. Tonight, John Duran, I hope you learned a valuable lesson. When you awaken tomorrow without the title, appreciate the fact that you’re still a man, and that you’re still living and breathing in this world. Don’t take that for granted, because if you do, I will return, and you will never see tomorrow again, my friend.”

With that Terry rises, grabs his belts and walks back up the rampway, stopping before the Smarktron and nodding at the image of the snake eating the rabbit before exiting through the curtain.

Axis: “In a shocking twist, Terry Wayne reversed the Crash Landing into a DDT in mid-air and retained the title. This morbid competitor has proven that he truly deserves to hold that television title after somehow making it past the very tough John Duran a second time.”

King: “Shut up Axis, just shut the hell up.”

March 24, 2003

"Axis, who where those fans chanting for during the break? Is he some sort of small time local 'hero'?" King questions, quoting with his fingers.

"I have no idea King. I can't keep up with the gossip you get. If you don't know, it can't be anyone important at all." Axis replies.

"OK, I can't be bothered to do any digging. So, looks like Dace's promo was as bad as I though. He hasn't even defend the title yet, and after that promo on the last show, he's already down on the card, tagging with some green ass rookie to be jobbed out to Omega Storm and Quiet Death." King sneers.

"Sure King. And it has nothing to do with Va'aiga having the show off for some reasons, and Dace not objecting to working with younger talent to help them. The bookers didn't even have to think about it." Axis says.

"Sure yourself Axis, just keep thinking that."

Funyon steps between the ropes, house mic in hand, ready to make his announcement.

"The following is Tag Team Match, under normal rules and for One Fall!" He booms.

A cloud of smoke fills up the entrance way, as the Smarkatron fades from black to blue, as is covered by striking lightning blots.

"Firstly, from Parts Unknown, at two hundred and twenty one pounds, this is ... QUIET DEATH!"

The now familiar opening words of Thou Shall Not Cry echo out through the arena, then the chorus beats in as Quiet Death makes his way out, dripping in water and sweet.

Under mixed reactions or cheers and jeers from the fans, Quiet Death slides under the ropes into the ring. In his basic black, Quiet Death crouches in the corner, awaiting the other men in the match,

"And his Tag Team Partner, from New Haven, Connecticut, at two hundred and forty five pounds he is ... OMEGA STORM!"

The lights drop out, and a strobe flight flashes as One Of A King starts booming out over the crowd. Under a few odd cheers, but many more, and louder boos fill down from the fans.

Also sliding under the ropes, Omega Storm slowly hands over his tazer, before taking the time to flip off the fans in all directions.

"And their opponents, firstly from Washington, D.C. At two hundred and twenty eight pounds this is .. 'PICTURE PERFECT' AARON CARPENTER!"

Pictures In The Mirror starts under with a boom, as the hail of green pyro flares down from the roof to the entrance way.

Stepping out, under a huge burst of cheer, Aaron Carpenter runs down the ramp, slapping his hands, and waving to the fans as he passes by them. Climbing onto the apron, he posses on the outside, getting into the ring, just yet.

"His Tag Team Partner, from Birmingham, England. At two hundred and fifty fours pounds. He is the SJL World Champion! This is ... DACE 'HORRORCORE' NIGHT!"

Hammering into life with all the force of hell, Winds of Creation rips out, as Dace steps out, under the red and purple lights, to the roaring cheer from across the arena.

With the World Title Belt over one shoulder, Dace struts down the ramp, tagging hands as he goes. Handing over the belt, before stepping up along side Picture Perfect, he throws up the horns, before stepping into the ring.

The four men stare each other down, but Dace moves forwards, not afraid of Omega Storm and Quiet Death.

Picture Perfect steps back under the ropes and onto the apron is his corner, and Omega Storm does the same across the ring.

"Looks like this one is about to start. And Dace isn't afraid of either man. He's the World Champion, Omega Storm and Quiet Death are going to have to pull out all the stops to beat him, and they still have to worry about Aaron Carpenter." Calls Axis.

DING, DING, DING!

Death shoots right in, using his speed, trying to tackle Dace's legs, but can only get hold of one, as Dace tries to twist away. Death steps back, pulling the leg out, before in a blink of an eye, sweeps his leg out, and takes Dace's remaining foot out from under him, leaving him to crash to the mat.

Throwing his arms up to the crowd, Quiet Death is swamped under a chorus of boos.

"Quiet Death taking the champ down fast, but the fans don't seem happy with that." Axis calls.

"And these fans don't seem to like the skill they see. Fools."

CRACK!

Dace wasted no time getting back up, and drilled Quiet Death with an Elbow Smash as he turned round.

SMACK!

WWWWWOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!

SMACK!

WWWWWOOOOOOHHHHHH!

SMACK!

WWWWWWOOOOOOHHHHH!

Three Knife Edge Chops ring out on Death's chest. Pulling back his arm, Dace swings it round with a huge lariat, crunching it into Death's chest, smashing him from his feet.

The crowd roars their approval at Dace's assault.

"Dace taking no time to get back onto the offensive."

Pulling Quiet Death back up to his feet, the Champ hooks his arm up in a Half Nelson and drags Death into the corner, leans over and tags in Aaron Carpenter.

The fans give a wave of cheers as Picture Perfect springs over the top rope into the ring.

"And here's Aaron Carpenter. Looks like these people are taking any chance they've got to cheer. Even if it's about a bad thing." King says.

Carpenter clams his arms around Quiet Death's head as Dace steps out under the ropes. With an Inverted Side Headlock, Picture Perfect takes a bound, and kicks off the top rope, twisting around, and dives forwards, drilling Quiet Death down to the mat with a Picture That.

"Carpenter keeping up the rapid offence, using his speed and skill to show off to the fans there." Axis calls.

"Showing off to the fans is only going to make you lose the match Axis. Just you remember that." King puts in.

Rolling over, Picture presses back over Quiet, making a cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

Kickout!

"But it's still far to early for Quiet Death to be going down."

Backing off, Picture Perfect bounces off the ropes, and charges back at the rising Quiet Death, leg extended. With a twist to the side, he sends a Leg Lariat crashing into Death's chest.

Carrying on across the ring, Aaron Carpenter comes flying back the other way as Death rolls back to his feet, only to b caught with a Spinning Heel Kick!

YYYYAAAAAHHHHH!

He drops down for another cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

Kickout!

BBBBBBOOOOOOO!

Quiet Death gets the should up off the mat again, still with it.

"We've got the two speed demons in the ring at the moment, but the match is sure to change gear with the next tag." Yells Axis.

Pulling Quiet Death, Carpenter snaps on a Front Facelock, and drags him up into the air, for a Suplex.

Fighting out of it, Quiet shifts his weight, kicking his legs, and managing to throw himself down, back to the mat on his own terms.

Picture swings round, looking for Quiet, just it time to catch a Drop Kick to the chest, sending him sprawling backwards. Springing of Carpenter's chest, Death flips right over to his feet, before taking a step in, and throwing himself into the air, plants his foot into the side of Carpenter's face with Enzuguri Death.

"Quiet Death fighting back. That Enzuguri, knocking Picture Perfect silly."

"That's a good tactic, keep you're opponent dizzy, and they can't fight back." Yells King.

Stumbling around, Aaron Carpenter takes a kick to the back of the legs from Death, buckling him to his knees. Then another big kick to the side of the knocks Carpenter to the mat.

With a flip, Quiet Death throws his body over itself with a Stand Shoot Star Press.

Hooking a leg, he makes a cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

Kickout!

YYYYAAAAHHH!

The fans cheer on as Aaron Carpenter kicks out.

Trying to shake his head out, Carpenter slowly stumble up to his feet, clutching to the ropes.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Three stiff kicks from Quiet Death don't let him do that, and still reeling from the kicks, Picture is dragged away from the ropes. Death hooks Picture's leg, and lifts him up off his feet, for a Backdrop, but changes direction in mid air, and plants Carpenter face first onto the mat with Face Death.

BBBOOOOOO! The crowd giving no love to Quiet Death as he keeps control over Picture Perfect.

"Aaron is having the shit kicked out of him, quite literally. This is great." King shouts.

"How tactful King. But yes, Quiet is certain in control right here and now." Axis comments.

Dragging Aaron along by the arm, Death makes his way to his corner, and tags over to Omega Storm.

"And here comes Omega Storm."

Grabbing the top rope, Omega starts to stomp away on Carpenter, as he tries to cover up.

The ref calls for a rope break, over the jeering of the fans.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......THREE!

......FOUR!

... At the last second, Storm steps back, grudgingly giving Carpenter some room to get up.

Aaron Carpenter hauls himself along the ropes. But that just makes himself fair game to Omega Storm. Omega ducks his body in, lifting Picture up across his shoulders into a Fireman's Carry.

Stepping back from the ropes, carrying Carpenter with him, Omega makes a twist, and throws his victim off his shoulders backwards, and Flapjacks him throat first across the top rope.

OOOOHHHH! Moan the crowd sympathetically as Picture Perfect drops to the mat, clutching at his throat.

"Omega Storm Flapjacking Aaron Carpenter across the top rope, continuing to isolate him, and wear him down." Axis calls.

"And look at poor, poor Dace Night over on the other side of the ring, like he's getting into the match any time soon." King smirks

Hauling Carpenter off the mat, Storm loops him up for a Vertical Suplex, picking him straight up into the air. Turing around, he spins Picture Perfect around, and sitting out, slams him back first to the mat, with a Falcon Arrow.

Keeping Aaron pressed to the mat, Omega makes a pin fall.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

......9/10!

Kickout!

RRRAAAHHHH! The crowd turns from boos to cheers as Picture Prefect kicks out again.

Grabbing Picture around the waist, Omega lifts him up into a Rear Waistlock, signalling for the Rolling Germans, as the crowd switch back to it's booing chorus.

But before he can start the move, Carpenter makes a attempt at a come back, jumping up, and trying to somersault forwards, his legs hooking under Omega's arms, and rolling him forwards to a Prawn Cradle.

YYYYYAAAAAHHHHHH!

......ONE!

......TWO!

......Kickout!

"German Suplex reverse into a Prawn Cradle by Picture Perfect, but it wasn't enough." Axis shouts.

"My, these lot don't seem quick to help each other that much." King points out.

"Guess they don't have the reasons, or the chances to."

Pushing Carpenter away, Storm start jawing at the ref, complaining that Carpenter had him by the tights, yelling at him.

As the referee's back is turned, Quiet Death slingshots himself onto the top rope, then springboards across the ring towards Aaron, and lands a boot into the side of his head with a crack.

The arena bursts into a sure of jeers as Death rolls under the ropes to the outside. Seeing the kick, Storm pushes past the ref, grabbing hold of Aaron Carpenter, rolling him backwards into a school boy.

But the referee looks as well, seeing Quiet Death rolling to the outside, only for him to be mown down by a Dace Night Yakuza Kick.

"Yakuza Kick!"

The ref starts yelling at both men, telling them to get back into their corners, as Omega Storm lets go of the school boy to see what's going on.

"There's your helping each other out. Quiet Death takes advantage of the distracted referee, nailing Picture Perfect, but Dace Night takes objection to that, and flattens Death, and also distracts the referee, causing Omega Storm to let go of the roll up." Shouts Axis.

"Things are starting to look up in this match."

In frustration, Storm turns back to his opponent, only to see he's given him to much time, as Carpenter leaps into the air, and snaps Omega Storm over to the mat with a Hurricanrana.

Trying to build some steam, Picture barrels into Storm, lacing his arms around Omega Storm's head, and dropping to his knees with a Snapshot Jaw Breaker, then springing off his knees, sits out, landing a Sitout Snapshot Jaw Breaker.

LET'S GO PICTURE! LET'S GO PICTURE! LET'S GO PICTURE!

Both men lay sprawled out on the men, trying to get their breaths back. Twitching, turning slowly, the try to drag themselves over to their respective corners.

Mean while, on the outside, Quiet Death starts dragging himself back up, after taking that Yakuza

Kick.

Dace starts slapping on the turnbuckles, building up the crowd.

STOMP!

STOMP! STOMP!

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Quiet Death starts to pull himself back up onto the apron. Aaron Carpenter dives, lunging as far forwards as he can, barely tagging Night's arm.

YYYYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHH!

Stepping between the ropes, Dace chrages across the ring as full speed, and slams with a low tackle into Omega Storm's back, just before he can tag Quiet Death.

"Dace his back in this match, and it looks like Omega and Quiet will pay for letting him get back into the match!" Axis shouts.

Dragging Omega back across the ring, Dace swings around and throws him back towards into his own corner, and right into a Picture Perfect Leg Lariat. Then switching back around, slams an Elbow Smash into the side of Quiet Death's head.

Quiet tries to throw a high kick, to fight Night off, but it gets caught in mid air, and another Elbow Smash topples him from the apron.

Seeing Carpenter along side him, Dace smiles and nodes at the whisper in his ear.

Clamping his arms into a Rear Waistlock, and throws Carpenter over head, with a German Suplex, over the top rope, causing him to Moonsault onto Quiet Death on the outside.

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

"German Suplex assisted Moonsault over the top rope to the outside. What a Tag Team move." Screams Axis.

"Flash, and just flash. More Quiet Death though, might teach him not to mess with the champ." King points out, with a rare hint of even handedness.

Omega Storm struggles back to his feet, only to take a knee to the chest, and be driven back to the mat with a DDT from Dace Night.

Wrenching Storm back up, Dace scoops him up, twisting him over, so he hands upside down in a waist lock. Lifting up onto his toes, Dace drops forwards onto his knees, drilling Storm with a Tombstone Piledriver.

DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT!

Hooking a leg, he makes a cover.

......ONE!

.....TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

Kickout!

Simply dragging Omega back up, Dace pulls him into a Headscissors and lifts him up over head, before sending him crashing back to the mat with a Powerbomb. Then he follows it up, picking Omega Storm back up, and snaking his arm up under his with a Half Nelson.

Forcing Omega Storm to double over, Night starts unloading Elbow Smashes into the back of his head.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Then locking his arms around Storm's waist, Dace hauls him back over head, with a German Suplex, dumping his shoulder to the mat for the pin.

......ONE!

.....TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

......9/10!

..Kickout!

Boos and jeers full the arena once again as Omega Storm makes another kick out.

Reaching over, Dace tags out to Picture Perfect, letting him have another go at Omega Storm.

With a run, Carpenter catches Omega Storm in the back of the head, dragging him across the ring, and plants his face to the mat with a Bulldog.

Rolling him over, Picture spreads Omega's legs apart, stepping his own leg though, and then crosses Storm's legs around him down. Twisting, he slowly rolls Omega Storm over onto his front with a Sharpshooter.

The fans yell out with a wall of cheering and shouts at the move.

"Sharpshooter! Sharpshooter! Aaron Carpenter looking for the submission right here." Calls Axis.

"I'm not sure if that's a wise move so close to the ropes Axis." King calls.

Straining, trying to ignore the pain in his body, Omega Storm forces himself up on his elbows, and starts to drag himself forwards to his corner, and the waiting Quiet Death.

Yelling across the ring, Dace urges Carpenter to try and pull Storm away from the corner.

Omega reaches, using the strength advantage he has, pulling, and extending his arm as far as he can.. and he tags hands with Quiet Death.

BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Springing over the ropes, Quiet Death smashes a Clotheslines into the back of Aaron Carpenter's head, knocking him flying.

Heading straight after Carpenter, Death pulls him back up, plants a stiff kick into his chest, then, reaching his arm across Picture Prefect's throat, sweeps with leg away, driving him down onto his shoulders with a DTO.

Signalling for the end, Quiet hauls Carpenter back up to his feet, then with a swift boot to the mid section, doubles him over. With a Standing Headscissors, Death pulls Picture up onto his shoulders as for a Powerbomb, but pushes his legs away, flipping Carpenter off his shoulder, and pulls him crashing to the mat, face first.

"Death By Numbers. Aaron Carpenter is out! He's finished." Screams Axis.

Quiet Death makes a confident cover, under the booing of the fans.

......ONE!

.....TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

NNNNNNNOOOOO!

SMACK!

"Damn it! Dace Night running in and breaking up the cover, the ref should DQ him right now, you just can't do that!" King screams.

Quiet Death bails out, rolling across the ring, and tagging out to Omega Storm.

Dace leans all the way over the top rope and just tags Picture Perfect.

Dragging Picture back under the ropes to the apron, Dace turns back to the ring, to find the referee in his face, complaining about making a Tag. Growling slowly, Dace points out that the ref didn't see Omega get tagged in, but he's not questioning that.

The ref just steps back slowly, thinking that the champ might just be right about the whole issue.

Squaring each other up, Dace and Omega charge into each other, like bulls locking horns. Throwing his arms up from underneath, Omega Storm takes Dace off him feet, and dropping to one need, brings Night's lower regions crashing onto his knee.

OOOOHHHHHHHHHH!

Taking the advantage, Storm snaps on a Front Facelock, hauling the World Champ into the , before twisting over and slamming him to the mat with a Jackhammer, holding on for the pin.

.....ONE!

.....TWO!

.....1/4!

......1/2!

Kickout!

"Just powering out of that Jackhammer. It's going to take more than that to keep the Champ down." Axis calls.

Wrenching Dace up from the mat, still holding on, Omega Storm slips behind into a Rear Waistlock. Arching backwards, he sends Dace over head onto his shoulders with a German Suplex.

The fans jump all over Omega Storm, as he makes his assault.

"The crowd not giving any love to Omega Storm, as he starts is attack on Night."

"Axis, this lot are fool, just because someone has a fair advantage, and his fighting to win the match, they don't seem to like it if one of their favourites is on the receiving end." King yells.

Omega rolls over, and bridges back with another German Suplex, going for the Rolling Germans.

He rolls over once again going for another German Suplex, and again with a third. He comes back up, and nails a forth German Suplex, this time bridging out for the pin.

......ONE!

.....TWO!

.....1/4!

......1/2!

Kickout!

Dace powers out once again, and rolls away on the mat, then uses the ropes to pull himself back up. Omega Storm shakes his head, and slams his fist into the mat in frustration.

Trying to keep on the pressure, he charges with a yell at Dace from across the ring, trying to run the Brummie Goth over with a Clotheslines, but Dace ducks, letting the lariat fly over head.

Swinging around, Dace jams home an Elbow Smash, straight into the side of Storm's head.

CRACK.

Looping his arms around Omega's face, he drags him up into the air, and throws his feet out, dropping back to the mat, spiking Omega Storm on his neck with a Sheer Drop Brainbuster.

"Dace has just reversed the momentum of the match, and now it's in his favour once again. The crowd is loving it, and they're back on their feet with cheers."

"Bah!" Spits King.

Slowly forcing himself back up to his feet, Dace picks Omega back up as well, and throwing the horns to the crowd, looks to finish him off.

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Staring Omega Storm in the face, Dace drives home a rib smashing knee to the mid section, doubling him over. Bringing his arms up, Dace locks in a Double Underhook. Pulling back, hauling Storm up off his feet, Dace stalls for a second.

With Storm up in the air at forty five degrees, Dace spikes himself back to the mat, planting Omega head first to the mat with a High Angle Double Arm DDT.

"DEFENESTRATION!" Screams Axis.

Rolling the limp Omega Storm over, Dace arches back, hooking the leg, making a cover.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

......NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

SMACK!

Quiet Death makes a last desperate dive across the ring, and smashes his body into Dace Night's, just breaking up the cover and saving the match.

Sprawling across the mat, Death and Dace roll under the ropes, and thump onto the floor.

Spring back up onto his feet first, with his speed advantage, Quiet Death aims a cracking round house kick at Night's head.

SMACK!

The kick rings off Dace's forearm, giving him enough time to lunge forwards, tackling Death to the floor.

Omega is still down on the mat, barely moving, Aaron Carpenter pulls himself back up onto the apron, looking around seeing nothing but Storm laying still on the mat.

"Dace just drilled Omega Storm with the Defenestration, but Quiet Death broke up the cover. Taking it to the outside, Dace just took Quiet down. And Picture Perfect is back up, does he have enough left to finish this one off?" Yells Axis.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

The crowd claps up a storm, as Carpenter starts dragging himself up the turnbuckles towards the top rope.

On the outside, Dace lays huge, stiff knees into the mid section of Quiet, making sure he doesn't spoil this one. Yelling out, he calls for Aaron to make the jump.

With a brief pause to get his balance, Aaron Carpenter leaps off into the air, back flipping his body over itself, and comes crashing down on Omega Storm, with a huge leg drop, before he has any chance to move.

YYYYAAAAAHHHHHHH!

"PICTURE PERFECT! Shooting Star Legdrop on Omega Storm. Dace has Quiet Death tied up on the outside, this one is over!" Shouts Axis.

"What is the ref doing? Carpenter isn't legal, and Dace is blatantly beating up Quiet Death on the outside, when Dace should be in the ring, and Quiet in the corner." King yells back.

Aaron drapes one arm over for the pin fall.

......ONE!

......TWO!

......1/4!

......1/2!

......3/4!

......9/10!

......THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

"Here are your winners .. DACE NIGHT and AAAAAARRROOONNN CCCAAARRRPPPEEENNNTTTEEERRR!

Pictures In The Mirror starts up again, as the fans burst into rounds of cheering and chanting.

Dragging himself into the ring, Dace slowly walks over to Aaron, and picks him up off the mat. Embracing the rookie, Dace lifts Carpenter's arm high into arm, to another burst of cheering.

"Looks like Dace might be eyeing up a future World Champion right there." Axis comments.

"And what about the two guys him and Carpenter just fought so hard to beat. Don't go saying that they don't have in it them to win the World Title." King says.

The two men head to the turnbuckles, climbing up and poses to the hands, as Dace takes up his World Title belt, and lifts it high in the air for everyone around to see.

The crowd chant on as the two celebrate in the ring, and Omega Storm and Quiet Death slink off in defeat.

The cameras fade out as the two men celebrate in the ring.

March 24, 2003

*~* The Mellon arena completely explodes in anticipation for the next two matches of the night while on the stage, several shots of multicolored pyro bursts out from under the set in a dazzling display. In the background, overcoming the noise due to their microphones, the duo of Axis and the Suicide King begin their announcements. *~*

Axis: "Welcome back to Wrath folks! Tonight has been a special night of SJL action, and the next two matches are sure to be great!"

King: "Yeah… even better than the WF…"

Axis: "…are you mocking me?"

King: "…yes. Anyway, these next two matches both have to do with the Second best title in the SJL, the European Championship."

Axis: "That's right… first off we have the #1 contendership to the SJL European Championship, in which resident jobber 'Hollywood' Spike Jenkins faces off against the newcomer, Kaine!"

King: "Kaine is just coming off a slightly impressive win over Manson on Metal, while Spike is being downgraded in rank… yet again… after his crushing loss in the Lost at Sea II match on said show."

Axis: "The second match, which happens to be the Main Event of the Evening… is the SJL European Championship Match itself, in which #1 contender Tryst takes on the sole member of the JL Magnificent 7, Sean Atlas"

King: "The winner of this upcoming match is going to have a hell of a time keeping up with such a superstar like Atlas."

Axis: "Like Atlas? Heh… you're forgetting that Tryst has a chance of De-throning the Magnificent 7 member…"

King: "…heh… don't make me laugh Axis… even you know that Sean is unbeatable."

*~* As the two continue to discuss the upcoming European Championship match, "Feuer Frei" by Rammstein starts op over the Speaker System, deafneing the fans with the large blast of bass, accompanied by the two large blasts of pyro accompanying the bass. As soon as the beginning lyrics are over, Kaine appears on the ramp and begins to walk down to the ring, glaring out at the mixed reaction of the capacity crowd. *~*

Funyon: "The following match is schedualed for one fall and will determine the number one contendership to the SJL European Championship! Introducing first, from Munich Germany… standing at five feet seven inches and weighing in at one hundred and seventy four pounds… he is The Untouchable… KAAAAAINE!!!"

*~* Slowly, Kaine makes his way down to the ring, just glaring out at the audience with a scornful look while they give their mixed reactions based upon Kaine's first match. *~*

Axis: "The Audience is a bit undecided here in wether to cheer or boo him…"

King: "Meh… he's new… I'm still undecided…"

Axis: "Yeah… but he did impress a lot of people in the CC in his first match on Metal…"

King: "Well duh… since he IS in the match for the #1 contendership to the European Championship…"

*~* Kaine climbs up into the ring and stands on the middle rope, saluting the crowds of the Mellon Arena. His music cuts off, giving way for "Victim" by Nonpoint. Around the arena, the mixed reaction that Kaine received quickly changes into a deep, harsh hazing of boos, as Spike Jenkens walks out onto the ramp and makes his way slowly down to the ring, never taking his eyes off of the youngster in the ring he is about to face. *~*

Funyon: "Introducing second from Hollywood, California… standing at six feet one inch, and weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds… he is 'Hollywood'… Spike… JEENKIIINS!!!"

*~* Spike slowly climbs into the ring and grabs a microphone. Slowly, Jenkens raises the mic to his mouth and begins to speak as the crowds' hazing tones down and Jenkins' music cuts off, allowing the man to speak. *~*

Axis: "Heh… looks like we're going to hear what Jenkins has on his mind…"

King: "Phht… just shut the hell up and fight…"

Spike: "Heh… so you're the new kid… you're the one that everyone is talking about backstage… but I don't really see the big deal about you… I mean come on… you're like what… eighteen? You're smaller than my middle finger for god sakes! Heh… you don't stand a single chance in the ring with a guy like me! So here's the deal kid… I'll give you five seconds to take your scrawney little ass out of this ring and to the back before I make you wish you were never affiliated with the SJL."

*~* Spike's hand drops to his stide still holding the microphone, while the crowds around Spike seriously haze the arrogant superstar. Across the ring, Kaine hasn't moved a single inch and surprisingly, a wide smile breaks out on his face, confusing Spike. *~*

Spike: "What the hell are you grinning about?"

*~* The ring announcer walks around the ring to Kaine's position and hands him a microphone through the middle ropes. *~*

Axis: "I'm eager to hear what Kaine has to say to Jenkens after that un-called for taunting by the much bigger man…"

King: "If Kaine was smart, he'd be out of the ring by now…"

Axis: "Oh come on King… you know as well as I do that Kaine isn't going nowhere."

King: "Exactly."

*~* Kaine flips the switch on the Microphone, turning it on and begins to reply to Jenkins' 'question'. *~*

Kaine: "What am I grinning at Jenkins? It's simple… you!"

*~* Jenkins and the rest of the crowd look at Kaine with a confused frown, as Kaine continues. *~*

Kaine: "Jenkins… there is no way in HELL I am leaving this ring right now. There is nothing that you can do to me that will make me leave the ring at this moment. Jenkins… the thing you have to realize is that this world does not in ANY way revolve around your jobbing ass."

*~* Spike's confused look quickly changes into a look of anger, as Kaine continues. *~*

Kaine: "Look Spike… you and I both know that words mean nothing… but actions do. You seem so confident in your… uh… what is that? Oh yeah… 'ability' to kick my ass… so here's what I say… I will not attack you at all for the first threee minutes of this match, while you can attack me as much as you want. After three minutes though, I will not hold back in kicking your ass."

Axis: "…is he serious?"

*~* Just as quickly as the angry look came, it disappears being replaced by an arrogant wide smile on Jenkin's face. He lifts up the mic and begins to reply to what Kaine has proposed. *~*

Spike: "So what you're saying is that I can attack you all I want… but you can't attack for the first three minutes of this match?"

*~* Kaine nods in approval. *~*

Spike: "Hell… you're on boy!

King: "Huh… looks like Kaine is going to go down quicker than I thought he was…"

Axis: "This is going to be real interesting to watch."

*~* Spike and Kaine both drop their mics to the outside of the ring and get prepared to fight. The referee walks over to Kaine and speaks to him for a few seconds, getting the details out of the way, as a large clock appears on the SmarkTron at the stage with 3:00 on it. The referee rings the bell, signaling the start of the match, and the start of the clock on the SmarkTron. Immediately following the bell ring, Spike lunges after Kaine in a frantic attempt to knock the smaller opponent down, but Kaine merely sidesteps Jenkins, causing Jenkins to go rocketing into the turnbuckle at full force. Jenkins bounces off of the turnbuckle and hits the floor with incredible impact, causing him to wince in pain, while Kaine just stands on the other side of the ring smiling at Jenkins.

Axis: "Hmm… that didn't work for Jenkins as well as he thought it would…"

King: "This is going to be a squash… I can feel it."

Axis: "That's no way to think, King… Kaine can definitely move in that ring."

*~* Jenkins quickly pops to his feet and begins to go after Kaine once again, with is arms swinging in all directions, trying to hit the faster superstar. Jenkins comes to within an inch of hitting the young Kaine before he quickly darts out of the way, making Jenkins hit the ropes. Jenkins bounces off of the ropes and races towards the youth and attemps to knock him down with a clothesline, but moments before Jenkins is about to hit the move, Kaine slides under the larger opponent's legs and out of danger once again. *~*

Axis: "Kaine is really quick on his feet… Jenkins is having a hell of a time catching the young man…"

King: "When Jenk does though, it's curtains for Kaine…"

*~* Visually infuriated, Jenkins stops at the ropes, and glares menacingly over at his quicker opponent, as the clock on the Smark Tron hits 2 minutes. *~*

Axis: "Two minutes to go for Kaine…"

King: "Jenkins is pissed at the moment…"

Axis: "Kaine is basically taunting Hollywood with all of his evasions."

*~* Jenkins again rushes at Kaine with an infuriated look on his face, and attempts to knock Kaine to his feet, but Kaine merely ducks out of the way and begins to run to the ropes on the opposite side of the ring, as Jenkins bounces off of the ropes and continues to run towards Kaine. Quickly, Kaine looks behind him before hitting the ropes to make sure that Spike is in the correct place. Suddenly, Kaine jumps onto the second rope and springboards over Spike's head doing a complete flip in air, landing on his feet several inches from Jenkins, who intensely hits the ropes and grabs on to stop himself. The crowds around the ring give their approval for the young Kaine, as he just arrgoantly moves to the corner of the ring with a large smile on his face. *~*

Axis: "Whoa! What agility from the young athlete! Jenkins is in way over his head here!"

King: "Sooner or later, Spike is going to catch that flyer, and when he does…"

Axis: "Kaine is going to be in SERIOUS trouble."

King: "Right, Axis."

*~* As the clock above the ring hits the one minute mark, the crowds around are standing on their feet cheering on the young superstar as he continues to evade Spike in every attempt at a knockdown. Suddenly, Spike amazingly hits Kaine with a back elbow, momentarily stunning the young flyer for a few seconds, just enough time for Spike to take full advantage with a "Dangerous Wizard" (Signature move: Shining Wizard kick to the back of the head.) knocking Kaine down to the floor, quickly scilencing the crowd. *~*

Axis: "Oh lord… that's gotta sting."

King: "Kaine's done. That's it."

*~* Instead of putting Kaine in another move, Spike Jenkins merely wanders around the ring, taunting the crowd, receiving ovations of boos and insuts from the Pittsburgh crowd. *~*

King: "Now it's Spike's turn to humiliate Kaine."

Axis: "He better hurry up… there's only 23 seconds left on the clock before Kaine can attack…"

*~* After waisting about twenty seconds, Jenkins finally reaches down and picks Kaine back up to his feet using the youngster's hair. Suddenly, a loud buzzer sounds out through the arena, as the clock on the stage screen hits Zero. Almost instantaneously, Kaine bursts out of the hold Jenkins has on him and begins to wildly swing his fists into the soft midsection of Jenkins, causing Spike to wince with every blow. Furiously, Kaine fires about fifteen blows into Spike's misection in rapid motion, follwed quickly by a massive kick to the stomach dropping Jenkins to his knees, and a ferocious kick to the side of the head, dropping Spike almost imstantaneously to the floor, as the crowds come alive with cheers once again. *~*

Axis: "Good lord! Kaine exploded on Spike!"

King: "Wow… that was impressive!"

*~* Kaine looks down at his opponent on the floor with a grin as he reaches down to pick Spike up to his feet. Jenkins quickly breaks out of the hold and throws Kaine into the ropes. Jenkins runs to the ropes on the agacent side of the ring while on the other side, Kaine grabs hols of the ropes stopping himself while Jenkins rushes furoiusly at his opponent. Kaine again springboards off of the middle rope over Spike's head, but this time, Kaine swoops his legs in towards Jenk's back, furiously dropkicking him in the lower back area. Jenkins tumbles out of the ring and out to the floor as Kaine jumps up to his feet. *~*

Axis: "Whoa… what a move!"

King: "You're telling me!"

*~* Outside the ring, Spike slowly gets up to his feet from the impact looking into the ring at the Youngster, keeping an eye on him in case he decides to jump outside. In the ring, Kaine motions to Spike to get back into the ring and fight, infuriating Spike beyond belief. In a rage, Spike pushes an official out of the way and grabs a chair that he was sitting on and slides into the ring. Quickly, the referee pulls the chair out of Spike's hands and informs him that he is going to get Disqualified if that happens again. The referee then leans out of the ropes and gives the chair back to the official that it was taken from, while in the ring, Spike quickly hits Kaine with a low blow, followed quickly by the "Roll the Joint" (Signature move- Roll of the Dice/ Test Drive). *~*

Axis: "Roll the Joint! Spike took advantage of the referee being occupied with a low blow, followed by the Roll the Joint"

King: "Heh… my kind of fighter."

*~* With the crowds around the ring hazing Spike like no other, Jenkins quickly covers his opponent as the referee figures out what's going on. He drops down next to Spike and Kaine to count the pin. *~*

One!

Two!

Thre… No!

*~* Kaine qucikly fires his arm up into the air, breaking the count. *~*

Axis: "Kaine kicked out!"

King: "Can he do that again is the question."

*~* Visually miffed, Spike drops down upon Kaine's back and starts to lock in the "Silver Lining" (Finisher: Camel Clutch position Dragon Sleeper) but, Kaine quickly squirms to the bottom rope stopping the move before it can happen. *~*

Axis: "Oh… Kaine dodged a bullet there… Spike was mere moments away from locking in the Silver Lining."

King: "Yeah… lucky for him, Kaine got away before Spike could lock it in."

*~* Suddenly out from the backstage walks none other than the European Champion himself, Sean Atlas. Belt and all, Sean stands at the top of the ramp looking down into the ring as the crowds aroun the stage all begin to haze the reigning SJL European Champion. In the ring, Spike Jenkens realizes that Atlas is standing at the top of the stage looking into the ring at the two compeditors. Spike gets up to his feet and walks to the ropes in front of the stage and glares up at Sean, firing some quick words in his direction. *~*

King: "It's Sean Atlas himself! He's out here to scout the next contender to his title!"

Axis: "King… he still has to deal with Tryst in the Main Event…"

King: "Oh shut up Axis… Tryst doesn't stand a prayer of a chance against someone as great as Sean."

*~* While Spike is occupied with Sean Atlas, Kaine slowly and unnoticably gets up to his feet and gets into position behind Spike for a move. As soon as Spike backs away from the ropes to go after his opponent again, Kaine hops onto Spike's back and locks in a Half Nelson Headlock on the larger man, causing Spike to frantically flail his only free arm behind him to get the smaller opponent off of him. Kaine tightens on the hold considerably, making sure to keep it as a headlock and not a choke hold. Slowly but surely, Spike begins to drop to his feet under the pressure of the move and begins to fade out as he drops finally down to the mat. *~*

Axis: "That Half Nelson Headlock is beginning to affect Spike!"

King: "I'm impressed by Kaine… he's really taking it to Jenkins…"

*~* Spike slowly begins to close his eyes from the effect of the Half Nelson Headlock, while Kaine doesn't even let up on the pressure. Jenkins fades even more, dropping his free arm down to the mat, bringing the capacity crowd to their feet in cheers for the youngster's efforts in taking Spike down. *~*

Axis: "I think Spike's out!"

King: "All that's left is for the referee to confirm that…"

*~* The referee, who has been enxt to Kaine the entire time making sure that it is not a choke hold he has on Spike lifts up Jenkins' free arm into the air and lets it go. The limp arm quickly drops to the mat, and the referee calls out. *~*

ONE!

*~* Again, the referee lifts Hollywood's free arm into the air and holds it there for about two seconds, before leting it loose. It again drops limply to the mat. *~*

TWO!!

Axis: "One more to go…"

King: "I think I see a little bit of life in Spike…"

*~* One more time, the referee lifts Spike's arm into the air and holds it there for several seconds before letting it loose. It slowly drops to the floor, before stopping about an inch before hitting the mat. Quickly, Spike clenches his fist and fires the elbow deep into Kaine's exposed side three times before the youngster breaks the hold he has on Jenkins. *~*

Axis: "Spike still has some life left in him!"

King: "This is actually turning out to be a pretty intense match…"

Axis: "Well, I'm glad you approve."

*~* As soon as he is released from the hold, Spike rolls over onto his back several inches from Kaine and begins gasping for air, while the youngster begins to get to his feet next to Spike. Quickly, Kaine rolls Spike over onto his stomach, and locks in a High-Angle Single Leg Boston Crab onto Hollywood. *~*

Axis: "Good Technique by Kaine here… keep Spike on the floor."

King: "It's basically the only thing that's keeing him in the match."

Axis: "I'm sure that Atlas is really learning a lot here from this match…"

*~* As Axis says that statement, the cameras move up to Sean Atlas, who is still standing at the top of the stge, staring into the ring at the two going at it, seemingly gathering as much information as he can about his poential next opponent. In the ring, Spike francially tries to grab for the ropes to break the hold that Kaine has on his legs, while the referee is positioned mere inches from Spike, asking him if he submits. In one last desiprate reach, Spike inches himself close enough to the ropes so that he can grab onto the bottom rope, making the referee jump to his feet and attempt to break the hold that Kaine has on Spike. After a four count from the referee, Kaine finally drops the leg of Spike, and walks away from the fallen opponent with a large grin on his face. *~*

Axis: "Spike finally got out of that hold! He was really in trouble there if hr didn't get to the ropes…"

King: "Look at that… Kaine is almost exctatic in the ring…"

*~* Spike Slowly gets to his feet as Kaine slwoly walks around the ring, staring eagerly at his opponent. Once Spike finally gets to his feet, Kaine begins to walk to Jenkins getting ready to take him down. Out of nowhere though, Spike suddenly nails Kaine straight in the head with the "Magnum" (Finisher- Standing Sidekick) knocking Kaine doen to the groun like a rock. *~*

Axis: "Magnum! Spike hit Kaine with the Magnum!"

King: "Well, it's all over now!"

*~* Instead of dropping down upon Kaine for the win, Spike walks over to the ropes in front of the stage and glares up at Sean Atlas, pointing at him in a "You're Mine!" type of gesture. Unbenounced to Spike though, Kaine suddenly pops up to his feet and prepares for his own finisher. As Spike is still taunting Sean, Kaine hits Spike with the "Painful Ending" (Finisher- Standing Sidekick to the back of the head) knocking Spike Viciously into the ropes, completely dazing him. *~*

Axis: "Kaine got to his feet and gave Spike a kick of his own!"

King: "How the hell did he get up that fkn fast?!"

Axis: "I'd be interested to know how too…"

*~* While Spike is tangled in the ropes, Kaine jumps up onto the top rope and perches himself, while the referee frees Spike from the predicament he is in against the ropes. Kaine glares over to Sean Atlas momentarily, firing the European Champion a strange smile, and then leaps onto Jenkins, hitting him with the "Leap of Faith" (Finisher- Jumping Reverse Tornado DDT) completelyt knocking Jenkins out. Kaine slowly rolls on top of Spike as the referee drops down to count. *~*

Axis: "Leap of Faith! Kaine hit the Leap of Faith! The crowd is going nuts!"

*~* The entire audience in attendance at the Mellon Arena chants along with the referee as he slams his hand down on the floor. *~*

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

*~* The referee jumps up and signals for the bell, as Sean Atlas merely smiles in acceptance and walks off of the stage to the back of the arena. *~*

Axis: "He did it! Kaine won it!"

King: "I gotta know how Kaine got up so fast… let's check the replay of that super kick."

*~* The SmarkTron comes alive with the scene of the Super Kick that Spike gave to Kaine. The scene forwards a bit to the point where Kaine is seemingly kicked, but instead, it reveals to the entire world that Kaine did not get kicked… in fact Kaine ducked down at the last second before the kick impacted with his head and fell to the mat. *~*

King: "So the little shit tricked Spike into thinking that he had kicked him! Brilliant!"

Axis: "Wow! Kaine really impressed this audience, and apparently, even Sean Atlas!"

King: "This is going to be an interesting match for the European Championship… Sean Atlas, and Kaine!"

Funyon: "The winner of this match, and Number one Contender to the SJL European Championship… KAAAAINE!!!!"

*~* In the ring, Kaine raises his arms up in triumph, as the audiences around the Mellon Arena cheer in acceptance of the new #1 contender to the European Championship. Slowly, Kaine drops down to the floor, and grabs the microphone that he had dropped there earlier. Kaine lifts the mic up to his face, and begins to talk while he begins to make his way up the ramp to the back. *~*

Kaine: "Well Well Well Jenkins… it looks like YOU LOST! What have you got to say for yourself now?"

*~* Kaine pauses momentarily, as Spike looks up the ramp directly at Kaine, as the youngster continues to speak. *~*

Kaine: "Nothing. Nothing at all… you know why? Because you ARE nothing. Plain and simple… you are… and will always be… NOTHING."

*~* Kaine drops the microphone to the floor and turns around to walk to the back of the arena. *~*

Axis: "Wow… strong words from Kaine to his defeated opponent, Spike Jenkins."

King: "I'm beginning to like this guy… he seems to have potential in this league."

Axis: "Well, at any rate, the next match of the evening is just moments away… so stick around for more great SJL Action… NEXT!"

*~* Kaine dieappears into the backstage of the arena, as the cameras fade out to commericals shwoing only the rustling of the curtains, as "Freuer Frei" by Rammstein sounds out into the bustling arena. *~*

March 24, 2003

“Main event! Main event! Oh boy, I’m giddy like a school girl, King!”

“Yeah, and you’re dressed like one too, ya queer. Have you been hanging out with Riley again?”

“What’s wrong with purple? It’s the color of royalty.”

“Yeah, so I guess you’re the King of the gay’s, then?”

“...in ANY case, King, I don’t think that mindlessly bashing everyone is going to endear you to the fans.”

“So? They can suck it.”

“And you call me gay? I think not. Anyway. We’ve had a simply fantastic show tonight, folks, and we’re set to blow it off with Sean Atlas defending his European Title against the hero, the myth, The Sherwood Fable...Tryst!”

“It should be a good one. Tryst has been shaky at best...showing flashes of brilliance, followed by uninspired losses. Here’s to hoping that he comes to play, so to speak, here tonight.”

“Well, we saw him in the back earlier, and he seemed pretty pumped up during pre-show. He was wandering around with his Cyclone Comet© action figure, having a full-on conversation with an inanimate object. I swear, he gets more and more like that guy every day.”

“And why shouldn’t he? Comet knew where it was at, and he was one of the most popular superstars of all time...it’s just too bad he was an icky good guy. Eww.”

“AND SO WE BEGIN!”

A voice screams over the loudspeaker as “Forest” by System of a Down begins to blast over the Public Announce system, and the lights begin to black out...not conventionally, however; they begin to black out in sections, causing a bit of confusion in the crowd as they begin to rumble, getting louder with every passing moment. The Smarktron flashes to live as we enter into the forest...run...running through. Dodging the branches and leaves. Leaping over the fallen old trees. The Darkness begins to take hold as clouds cover the sky in the night...but in one place, they begin to part. The moon makes an appearance, and it shines down upon the forest. As a solitary figure emerges from the trees, the moon catches hold of his eyes and lights them up like a blue flame, supernatural. Staring forward, he lets no distraction take hold of him; and so he reaches over his back and grabs an arrow from his quiver...pulls it back...and lets it fly. The crowd EXPLODES! The entryway raises a white hot light that stretches across itself and draws attention to the shadow emerging from the tunnel. He makes one step. Then another...and then he stops, staring out into the sea of his admirers as they welcome him into their hearts as a hero.

“Ladies and Gentlemen...your challenger for the Smartmark’s Junior League European Championship....you know him as the Sherwood Fable...he stands at six feet, one inch tall...and he weighs in at two hundred and eighteen pounds...hailing from Bairnsdale, Britain...he is TRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTT!!!!!!!!!”

He bolts down the ramp, heading straight for the ring as the crowd continues to cheer. Diving in, he quickly gets back to his feet and tosses his bow and quiver to the timekeeper as he leaps to the second rope at the turnbuckle, lifting his arms up to the crowd as they continue to cheer some more. As “Forest” fades out, he jumps back down off of the turnbuckle and turns around, jumping around a bit to loosen up as he stares down towards the entryway, awaiting the first sighting of his current mortal enemy.

“Do you see the blades of ice in that stare? He can’t wait for Atlas to show up, they’re about to throw down for real, yo!”

“What the hell? Axis, stop listening to NWA. You’re a preppie tall guy from Australia...seriously, it just isn’t funny anymore.”

“Well, anyway, dawg, I wonder if Atlas has any sort of plan to counter Tryst’s usual fast and furious start?”

And with those words, the lights begin to drop out. The fans begin to rumble in discontent all the while, all on their feet, keeping their eyes steadfast on the entryway. The first few chords of Breaking Benjamin’s “Polyamorous” begin to rattle the eardrums of the crowd as the lights flash for the song’s intro. Then...suddenly...an explosion lights up the stage. After a second or two, Sean Atlas makes his entrance as well. Walking out onto the stage with a smug expression, it’s the cigarette in his hand that sets the crowd off to it’s peak. Taking a few puffs in a “holier than thou” pose, he tosses the BUTT down onto the metal entryway and puts one foot forward to the ring. It’s as if he’s trying to make the crowd hate him even more than they already do...and it’s working; the boos get louder all the time. His smile gets wider as he takes a second step...and then a third...clearly taunting the crowd and Tryst, who remains remarkably calm inside the ring. Having wasted enough time, Atlas heads down towards the ring and stands by it, staring at Tryst for a moment, trying to get into his head.

“And introducing...He is the European Champion...standing at six feet, three inches tall, and weighing in at two hundred thirty pounds...from presumably Chicago, Illinois...he is Seeeaaaaannnn Atlaaaaaaaaaaaaaass!!!!”

“Well, here we go, King. What’s your prediction?”

“Tryst is an acrobatic high-flyer, and Atlas is a mat technician. More than anything else, I think it will depend on whether or not Atlas can keep Tristan grounded long enough to do any damage.”

“Well said.”

“Look! Behind Tryst! There’s another Sean Atlas diving in from out of the crowd!”

“But which witch is which, King? WHICH WITCH IS WHICH?!”

Tryst sees the alternate Atlas diving into the ring out of the corner of his eye, and as he gets to his feet, Tryst floors him with a thrust kick! As he stares down at him, he momentarily forgets about the REAL Sean Atlas, and so the plan worked flawlessly. Atlas dives into the ring and immediately begins to take it to Tryst as quickly as he can, attacking the legs to keep him grounded. He kicks Tryst in the back of his left knee right off the bat, and he begins to drop to a knee from the hit. Atlas grabs Tryst around the neck from behind and knees him in the small of the back as he’s falling to a knee, and then lifts him up into the air a second later. Holding him up for an extra second or two, he falls back into a belly to back suplex, letting Tryst take the brunt of the hit on his back. He holds on for the bridge as the referee dives in to make the count...

ONE!

Way too early. Atlas will have to work harder to retain against the Sherwood Fable.

TWO!

Maybe he’ll get a little confident here, and let this one get away from him. It doesn’t take much for the scope of a match to change.

T-!

Tryst wiggles his way out of the bridge and rolls through it, getting into a three point stance in front of Atlas as he gets up. Turning to face the Sherwood Fable, Atlas takes a shoulder to the stomach, losing his footing and falling to the mat in the process. The wind having been knocked out of him, he moves a hand to his stomach as Tryst lifts up his leg and kicks him in the knee. Trying to roll out of the way, Atlas moves from side to side to no avail. There’s another kick. And another. And Atlas grabs at the knee with both of his hands, lifting his back up the mat and almost rolling himself up into a ball. Tryst jumps to the air while keeping his hold on the leg and twists one leg around Atlas’s, and then the other, falling to his back on the mat while applying a leg grapevine in mid-air!

“Spectacular move, King!”

“Pretty cool, but risky nonetheless. It would’ve served him right if he’d hurt himself, which he very well could have. Typical high flyer...going for moves based on appearance rather than practicality.”

“King...that...that was some insight there. Are you maturing, after so long?”

“No, I just like to mess with your head!”

“Ugh...why??”

“...because I hate you so much, Axis. I really, truly do.”

As Tryst continues to wrench away at the knee of Atlas, he becomes closer and closer to the ropes with each passing moment. And as he reaches them, Tryst quickly releases the leg and jolts up to his feet, encouraging the downed Atlas to do the same. As Atlas is a bit behind, Tryst decides to take a chance. He runs over to the turnbuckle nearest to his opponent, running up it and pushing off of the top rope, attempting a spin kick to Atlas...and as Atlas shakily gets to his feet, it connects! Atlas flails backwards into the ropes and Tryst pursues, locking horns with him. He turns it quickly into a hammerlock, and as he wraps his free hand around the torso of the European Champion, he begins to lift up in a make-shift belly to back suplex...but not realizing the ropes are right behind him, he feels them as he starts to lift and drops Atlas to avoid a disastrous accident. Atlas lands on his feet and stumbles forward, while Tryst runs forward at him and grabs him by the head, leaping forward and driving him face first into the mat! Atlas takes the hit and is slow to move, so Tryst follows through and rolls him into a pinning combination...

ONE!

Nice move, but it won’t be enough. Atlas is tough, and a title on the line always makes a Champion tougher than ever.

TWO!

He’s regaining his composure. Taking a moment to gather himself before kicking out. Or is he?

TH-!

He was. And as he kicks out, Tryst grabs him by his hair, pulling him to his feet...and leads him over to the corner, where he tosses him into the turnbuckle and begins to strike his body with rights and lefts. Punching quickly rather than with great force, he is able to get quick a bit of damage done in a short time before stopping, grabbing Atlas by the wrist, and irish whipping him towards the opposite corner. Tristan runs in after him and leaps into the air as Atlas tries to run back at him. Lifting his leg, his knee connects with Atlas’s jaw and sends him spinning toward the ropes, which he grabs to keep from falling. Barely able to stand, momentarily, Atlas tries to shake off the cobwebs, but the assault of young Tristan Whitt is relentless. He grabs Atlas and again quickly whips him toward the opposite ropes, going to about mid-ring as he waits for the ropes to do their part. Atlas comes flying back at Tryst and he ducks down, wraps up Atlas’s legs, and forces him to the mat with a drop toe-hold!

“But he’s not finished there, King, he’s rolling through....into an STF!”

“A very effective submission maneuver, if applied correctly. Tryst is REALLY taking it to Atlas right now, showing that air of greatness that we all know he has. But can he keep it up for the duration of this match? That’s the real question here.”

“I think with a title on the line, he’s going to push himself a little harder than normal. He’s already been very active in his unforgiving mauling of Atlas, who is going to be in real trouble if he can’t get Tryst back into the atmosphere sometime very soon.”

Tryst applies the face lock in one fluid motion and pulls back with all of his might on the forehead of Atlas, who is clearly showing signs of early fatigue. Reaching out he tries to get his hands on the ropes, but he’s too far away. He then tries to pry the hands of Tryst from his forehead, but he can’t; the determination he is showing gives him a great amount of unexplainable might. He reaches again for the ropes, a bit closer this time, but he’s still a bit too far. He begins to push himself slowly towards the ropes with his free leg, inching closer...and closer...and closer...until he can reach them, and the hold must be broken. Tryst lets go of the lock and gets to his feet, running to the turnbuckles and raising his hands into the air to a HUGE pop from the crowd, who is clearly in his favor. As Atlas takes this opportunity to try and get a little bit of rest, he starts to get to his feet, keeping his eyes on his opponent the entire way. He gets to his feet and leans against the ropes, continuing to catch his breath as Tristan jumps down backwards off of the turnbuckle. He turns to Sean and walks towards him, grabbing his arm and whipping him towards the ropes...but Atlas is ready for it, countering with a whip of his own, sending Tryst into the ropes at break-neck speed. As Tryst comes flailing back, Atlas lifts him up and spins him, slamming him on his knee at the end.

“A spinning back breaker from Atlas, and he looks to be back in this match. For now, at least. Thoughts, King?”

“I think I’d rather be watching the game.”

“Which game?”

“...which? What do you mean?”

“Well, there are several games on right now...hell, you didn’t even specify a sport!”

“And? Any game, any sport, it doesn’t matter...anything else is ‘the game’.”

Tryst reaches back at his back as Atlas rolls him off of his knee and onto the mat. Kicking him twice in the stomach quickly, Atlas backs into the ropes and uses them for momentum as he moves back towards Tryst. He jumps into the air and drives his knee down onto the knee of Tryst, which he already began work on a little bit earlier. Tryst rolls to the right to try and shield the knee from any further damage, but Atlas begins to kick at it like it’s his favorite sport. Pushing Tryst onto his stomach, Atlas lifts the injured leg into the air and quickly drives the knee down into the mat, causing Tryst to yelp in discomfort. He lifts the leg back up into the air, and does it once more. After assessing the damage, Atlas decides to try a different approach...and he locks on a rare move for him, the sharpshooter. Stepping through, he wraps Tristan’s legs around his own, turns around, and begins to pull and tear away at the knee of Tryst.

“What a quick turnaround, Atlas is taking control...and probably executing the game plan that he came into this match with.”

“That’s right, Axis. Keep the flyer on the ground, and you will win with relative ease. Up until Atlas started this little comeback, Tryst was leaping and jumping all over the place, really taking it to the Euro Champion. Atlas may be starting to get out of trouble, but he’s still in hot water.”

Tryst reaches for the ropes, but they’re a bit far out of his reach. His face tells the tale...he is in sheer agony. And as Atlas continues to wrench and pull at the injured leg, Tryst is forced into quick action. He begins to try and push his legs out...causing Atlas to almost lose his balance, and loosening the hold enough to get a leg out. Contorting to get onto his back, Tryst kicks Atlas in the base of his spine and sends him flailing into the ring ropes. As he gets to his feet, he attempts a clothesline on the running Atlas, who ducks under it and grabs him from behind...lifting him over his head he slams him to the mat with a german suplex! He holds on for the bridge...

ONE!

Shockingly quick slam, he caught Tryst off guard with that one.

TWO!!

The crowd drops to a silence as they wish for Tryst to kick out...

THR-

Kickout! The crowd roars in acceptance as their hero lives on for another time. He gets to his feet about the same time as Atlas, and they lock horns once more. Tryst comes out on top, getting Atlas in a hammerlock...but he spins out of it and puts Tryst into a hammerlock of his own. Tryst elbows backwards and catches Atlas in the face, grabs him around the waist, and lifts him into the air! Tossing him overhead, Tryst gets back to his feet, but winces as he puts his weight down upon his injured leg. Atlas shoots an icy glance towards Tryst as he springs to his feet and dives straight towards him, spearing him through the ropes and to the ground outside the ring!

“Oh my, King! What a fall they just took!”

“Pfft, I’ve seen worse.”

“Even so, that was very very dangerous.”

“Well then, it must’ve served Atlas’ purpose, ‘cause he is a little bit crazy.”

As they lie there, staring up at the lights on the ceiling of the arena, the crowd begins to chant. Slowly but surely, a “sherwood” chant starts up, as it has begun to become something of a custom during Tryst matches. Everyone likes to cheer for the Sherwood Fable, and their remarkable urging must play some sort of part in his resilience. And as the chant grows louder, the will of the people is instilled into their hero, and he begins to stir. Seemingly shaking off the fall, he only shows minor effects from the collision with the ground. Getting to a knee, he looks out at the grandiose spectacle that is the crowd...and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Atlas, also getting to his feet. As he puts another foot on the ground, he slowly but surely gets to his feet and leans against the ring apron, rolling himself into the ring as Atlas gets to his feet. But Atlas doesn’t get in the ring...instead, he begins taunting Tryst, daring him to get out of the ring and brawl with him on the outside. Taking only a moment to decide, Tryst accepts the offer and leaps over the top rope, landing on the apron. Spring boarding off of the second rope, he executes a front-flip splash on Atlas! They both again go tumbling to the ground as the crowd cheers even louder! Getting up to his knees, Tryst begins to punch Atlas in the face a few times, and then pulls him up to his feet. Locking up, he knees him in the stomach and irish whips him towards the ring barrier...but Atlas counters, sending Tryst into the barrier! His back hits with a *THUD!* sound and he stifles a groan, but the pain is quite evidently written upon his face. Atlas slowly meanders in towards him as he tries to regain his composure.

“Back and forth, back and forth....Axis, it’s like a Turkish television show!”

“...King, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“Eh, you know. Turkish T.V.”

“Uh...right...”

As he rushes towards Tryst, Atlas leaps into the air for a superkick! Tryst sees it and ducks underneath, but Atlas pulls back his leg and lands with his knee down on Tryst’s shoulder! Tryst again stifles a yelp of pain, and Atlas again pulls him up to his feet. He leans the Sherwood Fable against the ring apron and begins to lay into his chest one by one with knife edge chops! There’s one! Then another! The crowd begins to boo as Atlas continues the assault, but he stops and locks up with Tryst. Lifting him up like a suplex, he holds him high in the air for a moment, and then drops him stomach first onto the ring barrier! It knocks the wind out of Tryst, and Atlas gets up onto the apron, to set something up. Looking out at the crowd in disgust, he yells something out at them as he leaps onto the air, connecting a leg drop with the back of Tryst, dropping him from the barrier to the ground! He lands on his back as Atlas lands on his tail bone, yelping from the impact of the fall. But he wastes no time in trying to get to his feet, despite the pain. Getting up to a knee, he grabs the apron to help himself up. Pulling himself to his feet, he moves to get Tryst, who is just now starting to move as well. He pulls him up, rolls him into the ring, and waits a moment to glance at the crowd before joining his enemy inside the squared circle.

“Things are going back and forth here between Atlas and Tryst, and at this point it’s hard to see a clear winner from this match-up.”

“Something will happen to fix that, I guarantee it, Axis.”

And so he dives into the ring, getting to his feet and waiting for Tryst to do the same. As he does, they lock up, and Tryst gets pushed backwards into the corner of the ring. Atlas kicks him in his injured knee and then begins to stomp away at his chest as he holds onto the top rope for leverage. The referee comes over to force him to let go of the rope, and he threatens to hit the ref...who threatens to disqualify him, and so he backs off. Stepping backwards, he tries to stand still, but he wobbles a bit as his head is throbbing from the attack earlier in the match. As Tryst pulls himself back up with the aid of the ropes, he spins into a roundhouse and connects with the face of Atlas, who still trying to shake the cobwebs out of his head. As he falls backwards into the ropes, Tryst springboards off of the second rope and leaps towards Atlas as he turns around. He locks his legs and sends him to the mat with a springboard head scissors attack! Atlas just avoids landing on his neck as his shoulders touch down first, then the rest of his body. Tryst wastes no time in trying to get him into a three count, but he fights it off; Atlas will simply not let it happen! He kicks his way out of a pin before it can even be locked on, but he doesn’t have the strength yet to get back to his feet...and so Tryst runs toward the turnbuckles, climbing up them and standing atop it for a moment as he takes a deep breath and soaks in the cheers of the adoring crowd. He closes his eyes as he bends his knees and gets the right leverage, then leaps off backwards and twisting into a corkscrew moonsault! He connects with Atlas to a HUGE pop from the crowd, who simply goes nuts for the Sherwood Fable!

“Corkscrew moonsault, beautifully executed by Tristan Whitt! This may be all, King! We may just have a new European Champion!”

“We may, but it’s hard to say. Atlas is as most of the guys around here, and I’d be surprised if he couldn’t muster up the ability to kick out of this. He’s down, but not out...not quite yet.”

Young Tristan Whitt manages to get up and make the cover on the downed Atlas, who is showing no signs of moving. The referee dives in to make the count...

ONE!

A vicious corkscrew moonsault onto an already downed opponent? This should be as simple as clockwork....

TWO!!

Should be, but is it? Hard to say...Atlas hasn’t moved yet...but he will....

THRE-no!!!!

“Oh my God, King, Atlas kicked out! He kicked out!!!”

“I told you he would. He’s not quite out of this one...not quite yet.”

Tryst can’t believe it! He rolls off of Atlas, but doesn’t get up to his feet just yet...he lies there for a moment, catching his breath and regaining his composure. Atlas, on the other hand, is breathing heavily with his eyes closed. Both men are tired, trying to catch their breath to get ready for the home stretch....and hopefully another notch in the victory column. Tryst moves his head and looks over at Atlas for a moment, sighing as he sits up. The crowd pops as he does so, but not for long...as Atlas soon sits up as well. Tryst again glances at Atlas, who this time glances back at him. Tryst rolls to his right while Atlas rolls to his left, and they both use the ropes to get back to their feet. But they waste no time getting back into the brawl, locking horns until Atlas cheap shots Tryst by spitting in his eyes, and then kneeing him in the face! Tryst falls backwards and Atlas irish whips him towards the other side of the ring, but doesn’t let go, and pulls him back. As he’s about to lift him up into a belly to belly suplex, Tryst head butts him, causing him to lose his grip on the hold and stumble backwards. Wiping the saliva from his eyes, Tryst punches Atlas in the face with great force as he stumbles backwards. Sensing a great opportunity, Tristan takes it. As Atlas staggers forward towards him, Tryst kicks him in the chest, sending him back towards the ring ropes!

“Here we go, King! This is about to be over!”

“If he hits the Crusade, then this is indeed over...but can he hit it? Atlas sure did a number on his leg earlier, I’m not quite sure if it can withstand the added weight of Atlas.”

Atlas comes staggering back towards Tryst again, and he goes in for the kill. He lifts him up into a suplex, but as he tries to spin him mid-air, something goes wrong...he can’t hold him up, and so...his leg buckles underneath the pressure. The fans gasp and drop to a hushed silence as he falls down, Atlas fast falling on top of him. He no longer has control...and Atlas lands on his head, on the mat, with the rest of him falling on top of Tryst not long after. Neither of the men move, and the crowd remains in their hushed silence.

“My God King...you were right....are they okay?”

“I can’t really say. Neither of them is moving...”

“God...I...I hope they’re alright....I...”

“Look, you fool! Tryst just moved one of his arms! He’s okay!”

Tryst is the first to move, his left arm struggling to get up. And as he opens his eyes half-way, he can see Atlas, out of the corner of his eye, not moving. He begins to try to sit up, and as he starts he has to push the body of Atlas off of his legs. Rolling out of the way, he gets all the way to the ropes and then leans up against them, taking in one breath after another, looking over at the limp body of Atlas, and letting off a sigh of relief only once he sees Atlas move his leg a bit...a sign of life. Atlas begins to move slowly but surely, moving to the ropes as quickly as he can, and grabbing hold of the bottom rope as a starting point. As he starts to pull himself back to his feet, Tryst also pulls himself to his feet. Getting all the way up after having caught his breath Tryst waits patiently for Atlas to get to his feet. As he does, he turns to face Tryst and absent-mindedly lunges forward at Tryst with a clothesline attempt, but Tryst ducks under it and spins to face the back of Atlas...he grabs him around the neck and hooks on a sleeper hold before dropping him to the mat!

“It’s over! It’s gotta be over!!!”

Tryst sighs with the hope of the end as he hooks the leg of Atlas and the referee dives down to make the count....

ONE!!!

The crowd cheers on their hero

TWO!!!!

And as they do so, time seems to stop for young Tristan Whitt...and you can see in his eyes that a milestone is being reached. He stares at the hand of the referee as it begins to drop once more...

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He sighs once more...but this time, a sigh of relief.

“Here is your winner, and your NEW Smartmarks Junior League European Champion....TRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYSSSSSTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The crowd explodes as the ring bell is rung and it is made official. Tristan Whitt is their new European Champion, and they couldn’t be happier.

“NEW CHAMPION! WOO! HELL YES, KING!”

“Eh. I don’t know what you’re so excited about, he nearly killed Sean Atlas with that botched Crusade attempt.”

“Even so, King, it was Atlas’ own doing, as he did the damage to Tryst’s knee. Nonetheless, we are OUT of time, so for the Suicide King...I am Axis, and we will see you next time!”

And as “Forest” by System of a Down blasts through the loudspeakers, the people have seen their hopes come to fruition for the time being...as their chosen champion has become a champion. For now, all is right in the world of New Age Sherwood. But what lurks around the bend...

Fade to black.

March 24, 2003

Results:

Once more, I pull the Suicide King! If you want results, do read the show. It won't take you all that long, anyhoo...

Card should be up soon enough.

Sign In

SJL Wrath, March 23rd, 2003!

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