SJL METAL - April 15, 2003

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

SJL METAL

April 15, 2003

 

CARD

 

OPENING PROMO OF PROMOSITY!

Sean Atlas Speaks!

 

New champ! Bah gawd, new champ! Sean Atlas finally reached the peak of the SJL (just in case you’re wondering, Iceman and Da Bomb are the base of said mountain), and he’s probably got something important and official to say. Because if he doesn’t, this is gonna be a really boring interview. What does Atlas have in store for his title reign? Let’s see….

 

SINGLES MATCH

Syndicate vs. Terry Wayne

 

Terry Wayne’s SJL status was unknown as of this booking, so he’ll be given one last chance. Syndicate had a tough loss to John Duran on Crimson, and now he’ll be looking to rebound. Who will triumph?

Rules: Straight singles, DQ/countout in effect.

 

SINGLES MATCH (NON-TITLE)

Victor Tarakanov vs. John Duran

 

Victor Tarakanov is a total unknown to the SJL, outside of what we saw in his promo on Crimson. He’ll square off against the Television Champion, John Duran, in a true test of the big Russian’s ability. Duran’s biggest (literally) challenge to date will come on Crimson.

Rules: Straight singles.

 

#1 CONTENDERSHIP TO THE SJL EUROPEAN TITLE

Christian Blackwell vs. Kaine

 

Christian Blackwell has continued his journey through the SJL, including a tag match on Crimson, which he and Kaine both participated in. Although the result of that match is unknown as of now, these two men will square off for a chance at Tryst’s SJL European Title.

Rules: Straight singles match as well. Wow, I’m creative tonight.

 

MAIN EVENT TAG MATCH

Crow/Spike vs. Va’aiga/Tryst

 

Crow and Va’aiga battled to a DQ ending on Crimson, and the bad blood between these two men is far from dying down. Meanwhile, Spike Jenkins and Tryst are two JL’ers who are looking to move into SJL World Title contention, and coming out on the winning end of this match would be a huge W for either man. Tonight’s main event should be a doozy.

Rules: One man from each team in the ring at once. DQ/countout in effect, win by pinfall/submission. First pin/submission wins the match.

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

After the Metal Intro, we are shown a recap package from Crimson's World Championship Main Event....

 

-------------- [LAST THURSDAY] --------------

 

He turns Dace around and whips him towards the corner.... But Dace doesn’t let go, and snaps Atlas back to him! With his back far too close to one of the corners, Dace wraps his arms around Sean’s waist and pops his hips, lifting Atlas in the air with a belly-to-belly towards the glass filled wood.......!

 

 

!*SHATTER*!

 

 

[Axis] OH MY GOD! Atlas just got tossed directly into those glass filled wooden logs! He landed head first coming back down, after shattering all the damn bulbs in that corner! My God, King, we still have about 20 minutes to go and Atlas might already be out!

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

[King] I think this crowd shares your sentiment... but damn was that cool. An overhead belly-to-belly into the corner - Unreal!

 

 

All three wooden logs remain in their place, but those, like one middle turnbuckle log in another corner, are now bulb-free. Dace takes Atlas by the hand and pulls him out of the glass rubble, leaving behind a large streak of blood from under him. He throws his body over Sean, pinning him to the mat...

 

 

...ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.....THREE!

 

 

[Axis] And Dace Nigh takes the lead early in the match, pinning Atlas after an unbelievable Suplex into the glass!

 

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

Remaining: 21:17

Dace: 1

Atlas: 0

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

 

-------------- [FAST FORWARD] --------------

 

To a loud crowd, Sean smacks the back of Dace’s neck, gripping its bloody skin. He rears it back, getting Dace’s hands off the top rope and with all the anger and strength he could muster, drivers it into the top turnbuckle....!

 

 

!*SHATTER*!

 

 

[Axis] OH MY GOD! ATLAS JUST CRACKED DACE’S SKULL!!!

 

[King] But wait, there’s more!

 

 

!*SHATTER*!

 

 

[Axis] AGAIN! Sean smashed the head of the champion against the middle turnbuckle glass, destroying that too!

 

[King] And he’s about to finish him off!!

 

 

!*SHATTER*!

 

 

[Axis] A THIRD TIME!

 

[King] This is the end of Dace!

 

 

The third set of glass shatter splinters into tiny pieces, forming a pile at the base of the corner. Dace Night, the League’s champion, is down on his knees, face buried amongst the shards of bulbs. The fans, his fans, his supporters and admirers hurl profanities at Sean, along with soda bottles and crushed popcorn bags. The announcers stay quiet as speaking over the deafening noise made by the spectators if futile.

 

Atlas, pleased in his demolition of the man called “Horrocore”, passes up the chance to cover one again. Instead, he brings Night up and leans him against the wooden turnbuckles. Turning his back to him, Sean slides his arms under Dace’s and lifts, picking the heavier Dace Night up in a crucifix...

 

 

[Axis] Atlas holds Dace up in the image of Jesus Christ those many years ago...

 

[King] Neither believes in him, but both are bloodier and one is about to suffer the same fate...!

 

Atlas throws Dace’ body up and forward, bringing his head down...

 

 

!*SLAM*!

 

 

[Axis] WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

 

[King] A... Crucifix Powerbomb DDT!!?

 

 

Dace falls, Atlas covers, Ced counts...

 

 

 

...ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.....THREE.....!

 

 

[King] SEAN ATLAS TIES THE SCORE AT ONE!

 

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

Remaining: 09:42

Dace: 1

Atlas: 1

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

 

-------------- [MATCH FINISH] --------------

 

[Axis] Dace is just several feet away from us, searching under the ring for something...

 

[King] I’m hoping he pulls out what I think he’ll pull out...

 

 

“Whirrr...”

 

 

[Axis] Oh no...

 

 

“Whirrrrrrrr......”

 

 

[King] Oh. Yes.

 

 

“WWWHHHIIRRRR!!!!!!!!”

 

 

[King] THE WEEDWHACKER!!

 

 

...

 

 

Axis] Why is that bastard smiling? What’s so amusing about this?

 

 

Slowly, Atlas himself bends down and reaches under the apron. The fans seated nearby lean forward, trying to get a better glimpse at what destructive device he’s about to introduce...

 

 

“Whhhhrrr......”

 

 

[Axis] What... the... hell... is that?

 

 

“WHHHRRRRR.....”

 

 

[King] What can he possibly have to fight the weedwhacker? Another weedwhacker?

 

 

“WWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

[King] HOLY SHIT!

 

[Axis] A CHAINSAW???

 

[King] A FREAKIN CHAINSAW!!!

 

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

 

[Axis] Like a scene straight out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the bloody and masked Sean Atlas has become Leatherface, threatening to destroy the champion...literally!

 

 

Dace darts forward!

 

 

Atlas sprints towards him!

 

 

THEY COLLIDE!

 

 

 

!*WHHHRRRRRZZZZZZTT*!

 

 

 

 

[King] THE WEEDWCHAKER HAS BEEN DECAPITATED!

 

[Axis] ATLAS CHOPPED DACE’S WEAPON IN TWO!

 

 

...

 

 

Just as Sean cuts through the last rope, he powers the saw off and drops it down to ringside. Turning back to face the champion, a wicked smile shows up behind the mask. They stare at one another once again, surrounded by the limp ropes surrounding them on only three sides.

 

 

[Axis] Two minutes left!! Somebody better do something quick or we may see overtime...

 

[King] Which wouldn’t work with a deformed ring, would it...?

 

 

An indescribable look adorns Dace’s face. His countenance shows both fear and the scars of battle; inquiry and experience...

 

 

[King] Never in his most untamed dreams did Dace imagine that Sean could not only match his madness, but far surpass it!

 

[Axis] Yakuza kick!

 

[King] No! Atlas ducked!

 

 

Dace misses the kick! Sean runs past him and stops before reaching the ropes. He turns first and sprints towards the champion...

 

 

[King] YAKUZA KICK!!!

 

[Axis] Dammit! Atlas stole Dace’s signature move!

 

 

Atlas receives the loudest negative reaction of the night after using Dace’s own Yakuza Kick against him... Running only on adrenaline now, Sean takes the champion’s hand and gets him standing. Lowering his shoulder, Atlas heaves all 254 pounds of Night’s body onto his shoulders, spreading Dace across his back...

 

 

[King] This it the end! Just one minute to go!

 

 

Sean reaches the edge of the ring, and continuing his motion, leaps off...

 

 

[Axis] Duck and cover!

 

[King] AAAAAHH!!!

 

 

!*CRASH*!

 

 

“WWWWWWHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

 

 

[Axis] SEAN ATLAS JUST EXECUTED THE SAINT’S DEMISE FROM THE RING THROUGH OUR TABLE!

 

[King] Executing Dace Night as well!

 

[Axis] Listen to this crowd!!

 

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

 

[King] They only have twenty seconds left! Quick, Sean, get him in the ring and cover!!!

 

 

...20...

 

 

Sean takes Dace by the hand. He drags him towards the ring, falling down many times as he does so. The broken rubble of what used to be the announcers’ table moves aside as Sean hauls the champion’s limp carcass back to the war zone of the ring...

 

 

...17...

 

 

He gets close enough to touch the apron, latching on to whatever he can for more leverage. Kicking aside the very tool he used to cut the ropes, Sean clears the path for Dace’s body and hooks his arms from underneath, lifting him up to a standing position.

 

 

...14...

 

 

The fans begin to count along with the clock, every one of them on their feet and hoping for time to expire before Sean can cover.

 

 

“...11...”

 

 

With whatever energy he has in him, whatever adrenaline still left in the tank, Sean picks Dace’s feet off the ground and gets him to lean in onto the ring mat.

 

 

“...10...”

 

 

Atlas picks up his opponent’s legs and tosses them inside, falling down to one knee in the process.

 

 

“...9...”

 

 

While hearing the crowd’s displeasure with the anticipated outcome, he pushes Dace into the ring entirely...

 

 

“...8...”

 

 

Atlas claws his way inside the ring, crawling towards the limp body of Dace Night. He finally drapes his weak arm over and covers, while Ced quickly starts the count.

 

 

 

 

...ONE...

 

 

 

“...7...”

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

 

“...6...”

 

 

 

.....TTHHHRREEEEEEEEENNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

 

 

“WWHHHHOOOOOOO!”

 

 

“...5...”

 

 

[Axis] DACE HORROR-FUCKING-CORE NIGHT KICKS OUT!!!

 

 

“...4...”

 

 

In all the shock engulfing the fans, amidst all the astonishment, Atlas desperately hooks both legs, presses his shoulder against Dace’s chest and hopes beyond all hope that it gets the job done...

 

 

“...3...”

 

 

...ONE...

 

 

 

 

“...2...”

 

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

 

“...1...”

 

 

 

.....TTTTHHHHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

 

 

...0...

 

 

*DING DING*

 

 

“BUZZ!”

 

 

[King] SEAN ATLAS WINS! ATLAS WINS THE CHAMPIONSHIP!

 

 

“Your winner... AND NEW SJL WORLD CHAMPION..... SSSEEEAAANNN ATLAS!!!”

 

 

-------------- [NOW] --------------

 

 

[Axis] Ladies and Gentlemen! We welcome you to..

 

[King & Axis] ESS JAY ELL METAL!

 

[Axis] Live from The Alamodome in San Antonio, Texas!

 

[King] We've got a hot crowd on our hands, and an even hotter main event, featuring the number one contender to the World Title, Crow, teaming up with Hollywood Spike Jenkins to face the Maori Badass, Va'aiga and Tryst, The Sherwood Fable.

 

[Axis] We've also got Christian Blackwell in action against Kaine, and the debut of Viktor Tarakanov facing the Television Champion, John Duran.

 

[King] But leading off the card is a singles match between Syndicate and Terry Wayne.

 

[Axis] Let's see it, King.

 

 

Suddenly, Breaking Benjamin's "Polyamorous" blasts through the speaker system. The fans immediately show their displeasure upon hearing the opening chords to the music, but their boos are soon overshadowed by...

 

 

*BOOM*

 

 

...A loud pyrotechnic explosion on the stage, which leaves behind a cloud of smoke. As it dissipates, the white light from below begins to reveal the outer form of one, Sean Atlas...

 

 

[King] Axis, that's our brand new World Champion, Sean Atlas!

 

[Axis] what's he doing here?

 

[King] Does it mater? He's the Champ! He has every right to come out here.

 

 

Atlas walks along the ramp towards the ring, his Championship belt wrapped around the waist. In addition to black pants, with a white and blue stripe running down the side, he dons his "Weight of the World" T-shirt. Atlas walks purpousefully, but with a small limp probably stemming from his match against Dace Night last Thursday. As he reaches the ringside area, he is introduced to the displeased crowd.

 

"Please welcome, the SJL World Champion... SEAN ATLAS!"

 

Sean walks up the stairs and enters the ring, where it is clear that his leather mask has been stitched up, rather than replaced by a new one. He asks Funyon, who stands outside the ring, for a microphone and the announcer immediately tosses it to him. Sean catches it and waits for his music to quiet down.

 

 

[Axis] What's he going to talk about?

 

[King] Probably the title match from last week.

 

 

The fans refuse to quiet down for him, shouting rather offensive remarks at him. Eventually, he stops waiting and starts talking back.

 

"Hey, you want to listen to someone but yourselves for once?!?"

 

They become even louder for a brief period, but soon quiet down to let him talk.

 

"That's better. I'm glad all of you are so excited for your new SJL Champion, but there are plenty more important matters to get around to. For starters, I'd like to remind each and every one of you just how I got here what I've done... I won my first five matches... (Boo) I RETIRED Chris Card... (Booo) I won the European Championship, kept it for 38 days and successfully defended it three times!... (BOOOO) And now I stand before you, scarred and bruised, wearing the League World Championship around my waist (BOOOOO!!!)"

 

 

[Axis] He's quite the modest one, isn't he?

 

[King] Quiet, you. You're worse than these Texans with your interruptions!

 

 

"But enough about me, I'd like to focus on you people. You wonderful, intelligent individuals here in... oh wait, this is Texas?? Hah! Never mind you bible belt, cattle milking, cos tipping toad sucking hick fucking bastards..."

 

BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...........

 

"NOT that there's anything wrong with that... Save for the bible belt thing. Normally, I'd go off on you about worshiping your God while telling your children to stop playing with their imaginary friends, but as far as I can tell, most of you are lost causes to begin with. However, there is one thing about Texas that I do like... I'm assuming you all saw just how I massacred the ring on Crimson? Anybody know where the idea came from...?

 

CHAAAIIINSAAWW... CHAAAIIINSAAWW... CHAAAIIINSAAWW... CHAAAIIINSAAWW...

 

"Yes, the Texas Chainsaw Massacre! Good job, lamebrains. Surprised you didn't pick up on that earlier. You see the original plan was to take the chainsaw, fire that sucker up, and tear Dace apart, limb from limb. But once he whipped out the weed whacker, the plan changed. And everyone knows how THAT ended..."

 

 

[Axis] You know, Sean has a tendency to ramble on without a clear point... What's he getting at here?

 

[King] We if you'd stop TALKING, you'd find out.

 

[Axis] But.. they pay me to talk.

 

 

"And damn, did it end well. Not so much for Dace though, who as far as I know is at home, his mother's house in England, eating through a straw. Just like Aecas, Manson, Chris Card, Spike Jenkins, and all the rest, I tore through him like no one else. And I stand now, atop the mountain, with all you peasants looking up to me, envying me, wanting to BE me, buying my shirts, my mask, my ACTION FIGURE..." (Constant jeering towards the end... until)

 

 

"Winds of Creation" by Decapitated thunders through the Alamodome, bringing the fans to their feet. Through the curtain walks Dace Night, former champion, donning his black leather trench coat. He remains on the ramp and as the music fades away, he stands, slowly clapping his hands. His forehead is bandaged and there are numerous scars around his face, but Dace's expression shows no sign of defeat. He pulls out a microphone from the coat pocket and clicks it on.

 

 

"Congratulations Sean. You won the belt, and climbed that mountain. Best of all you beat the man they call Horrorcore at his own game."

 

"Damn right I did."

 

"And I congratulate you for it. In fact, I even bought this..."

 

 

Dace undoes the trench coat and takes it off, revealing a black shirt with white letters saying "I got my body sliced up in a Deathmatch and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt".

 

 

"You like it? I'd get one for you too, but I can see you already wearing one to hide the scars all over your back! But hey, it's not a big deal, Sean. You see, I'm not..."

 

"Hey, you want to come down here? Huh, come on? I beat you once, I beat you twice. Let's make it a nice round three times!"

 

"No, I don't think so. You see, Sean, I'll admit how much damage I went through; how much we both went through. And i know that a match tonight would hurt us both even more, and keep the fans from seeing what they want. But Sean, remember the man who almost beat you just a few weeks ago? The man who nearly had you tapping? He's next in line, Sean. And he's waiting, Sean.. He's..

 

"STOP SAYING MY NAME! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

 

"There's as reason I do it, Sean... And after Crow, if you manage to take him out, you can be sure that I'll be there. Waiting. With every conveyable weapon at hand..."

 

 

[King] Whoa, he suddenly got serious.

 

[Axis] Atlas better take him seriously. Dace follows up on his words...

 

[King] Even when he said he'd tear Sean to pieces?

 

[Axis] Well, he almost did.

 

 

"Oh... Heh... You really think you're that smart, don't you? That you're this brilliant, evil, sadistic son of a bitch that now only lost to me TWICE, but lost your precious title to me? Is that who you are? You think you know who I am? You don't, Dace. No one does. Not the boys in the back, not management, nobody. I walk around the streets showing my face, and I'm not bothered. I walk past you and you don't even know who I am. You know what kind of a thrill it is to be able to sit on a plane just two seats away from the man you just destroyed? It's a fucking HIGH."

 

"What are you getting at, Sean?"

 

"Don't call me.... Ugh.. What I'm getting at, DACE, is that you, them, or any of these dickless retards know what they're dealing with. I breezed through this league in 14 matches to earn my belt. It took me two months to establish myself as the best. Twice now, you promised to take me out, and neither time did you do so. Why do you keep thinking you're right? Why do THEY keep thinking they know? None of you do. Not you, not Crow, and not anyone else that thinks they have a chance against me. I don't care how vague this shit seems right now. IN time, you'll all realise how wrong you've been..."

 

 

"Polyamorous" blasts up again as Sean throws the mic behind him and jumps out of the ring. He walks to the side of the ramp, away from Dace, not willing to deal with him right now.

 

 

[Axis] Well, if we've ever had a more vague man in the SJL, I haven't met him.

 

[King] Well then, that tells us absolutely nothing. Stay tuned, anxious viewers for Syndicate vs. "Dark Rebel" Terry Wayne!

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Axis: “Welcome everyone to the Lone Star state! We are coming to you live this week from the Alamodome in beautiful San Antonio, Texas for SJL METAL! Our opening contest features one of the brightest young stars to grace our ring in recent memory, the rawhide tough Syndicate. His opponent is a man who seems to have lost the ambition and fighting spirit that the newcomer has shown, former SJL World Television Champion “The Dark Rebel” Terry Wayne.”

 

King: “Seems to have lost? I don’t think the hobo ever had it to begin with! I knew he was a loser the minute he stepped through those ropes for his first match.”

 

Axis: “Be that as it may, if he can’t get past this newcomer, it could be curtains for the career of The Dark Rebel.”

 

Funyon: “The Following contest is scheduled for one fall with a Twenty minute time limit…”

 

The opening chords of Johnny Cash’s “Hurt” begin to play throughout the arena accompanied by a grainy, black and white video of a snake eating a rabbit…

 

Funyon: “About to enter the arena, From Norfolk, Virginia…Weighing in tonight at Two Hundred and Thirty Pounds!!!! THE DARK REBELLLLLLL, TERRRRRRY WAYNEEEEE!!!!!!!”

 

The music continues, but Terry is nowhere to be seen. The audio technicians loop “Hurt” again, but Terry remains missing. Funyon and Anthony Michael Hall shrug their shoulders and the music stops.

 

King: “I knew the coward wouldn’t show up! He tucked his tail between is legs and went back to his cardboard box in shame.”

 

A ringside attendant tells Funyon to introduce Syndicate anyway, even though his opponent has yet to show up.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize…”

 

Bursts of red fire ignite the stage and “Raise Up” by Saliva echoes throughout the Dome. The smoke clears, revealing Syndicate standing atop the ramp-way.

 

Axis: “Syndicate has turned many heads since debuting a few weeks ago. His style is somewhat similar to Wayne’s, but he has the youth, the size, and the fans on his side. It’s a shame he has to win like this.”

 

King: “ He also shows up when he is scheduled, unlike that homeless hick Terry Wayne.”

 

Funyon: “Making his way to the ring, From Portland, Oregon…Weighing in tonight at Two Hundred and Thirty Seven Pounds!!! SYNDICATEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

 

Syndicate slides under the bottom rope with a disappointed look on his face. He begins to ask the ref what’s going on, but the referee is baffled himself. Anthony Michael Hall walks over to Funyon and begins to whisper in his ear.

 

Funyon: “Terry Wayne has to the count of ten to enter the ring or he will LOSE THIS MATCH!”

 

The referee begins to raise his hand and the crowd begins to count along.

 

Ref: “ONE!”

 

Axis: “This is not exactly the best way to start off a show. Fans, we apologize for Terry Wayne’s absence. SJL officials will surely deal with him accordingly.”

 

Ref: “TWOOO…”

 

Axis: “Production has informed me that we do have another back up match. Matt Kivell will be facing Quiet Death. Again fans, we apologize.”

 

Ref: “THREEEE…”

 

King: “What a load of crap! This kid doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment, even if he is a bit snot-nosed. I hope we never have to see Terry Wayne again!”

 

Ref: “FOURRRRRR…”

 

Before the count reaches five, a man in a hooded sweatshirt moves through the crowd and jumps the barricade before rolling into the ring. The ref nervously backs away as the man begins to slowly lower his hood…

 

Axis: “IT’S TERRY WAYNE!”

 

King: “Good! I hope he gets his garbage picking ass kicked!”

 

The bell rings and Syndicate prepares to lock up, but Terry just drops to his back in the center of the ring.

 

Axis: “He’s letting Syndicate pin him? If he thinks he is going to just come in here and collect a paycheck for crap like that, he’s sadly mistaken. Actions like this will certainly lead to an immediate termination. I hope he’s proud of himself, because nobody else is!”

 

Syndicate screams at him to get up, but Terry remains idle in the center of the ring. The Newcomer sighs before covering the former SJL star.

 

Ref: “ONE!”

 

 

 

Ref: “TWOOOOOOO…

 

 

 

Ref: THR…”

 

 

Terry grabs a handful of Syndicate’s face before the ref’s hand slaps the mat for the final time. His docile expression turns to rage as he rises with Syndicate’s face firmly locked within his grasp. The newcomer screams in pain as Terry’s fingers gouge deeper and deeper into his eyes. Both men make their way to their feet.

 

Axis: “Terry Wayne seems to be back into this match. This whole ruse from the outset seemed to be an elaborate game from the sharp mind of The Dark Rebel.”

 

Syndicate clutches the wrist of Terry trying to free himself. The referee steps in, but Terry grabs him by the collar and shoves him down. In the process, Terry releases Syndicate from his grasp. Syndicate fights to regain his sight on the canvas…

 

*CRACK*

 

The Dark Rebel belts Syndicate across the face with a hard right hand to “ohhhh”’s from the thousands in attendance. Terry throws Syndicate to the cold concrete floor on the outside. After a few more hard rights, Terry slams Syndicate’s face into the barricade. Syndicate winces in pain as Terry grabs him by the hair and busts his skull into the concrete floor repeatedly. Blood begins to gush like a waterfall from the head of the newcomer. The Dark Rebel rolls Syndicate back into the ring and begins to eye the steel steps.

 

Axis: “Terry Wayne is walking a fine line here. He’s already shoved the referee. If he uses those steel steps, you can guarantee there will be a disqualification.”

 

King: “He’s letting Syndicate recover in the ring while he looks for a weapon to use. He hasn’t won a match in a month and a half. How big of a loser is he?”

 

Terry lifts the steps from beside the post and tosses them into the ring. He quickly follows back into the ring and stands over the bloodied Syndicate, screaming at him to get up. The Dark Rebel steps on Syndicate’s hair and lifts the steel steps above his head. The referee frantically pleads with Terry to put the steps down, but Terry laughs at him to loud boos from the audience. Terry whips the steps down toward Syndicate’s head with great force, but the scrappy challenger gets his feet up and Terry gets a face full of steel. Syndicate examines the wound on his forehead and becomes filled with rage.

 

*BOOM*

 

He cracks Terry in the face with a jaw busting Forearm smash. Several more follow before he whips Terry to the opposite ropes. He follows up with a vicious hooking clothesline, flooring Terry. Wayne begs off, but Syndicate has no mercy for the man who just tried to take him out of action. Syndicate grabs a handful of The Dark Rebel’s hair and lifts him to his feet.

 

King: “Who would want to touch that greasy hair?”

 

Syndicate whips him again, this time to the corner. The newcomer charges in, but catches a crushing boot to the face from Terry. Blood continues to ooze from the forehead of Syndicate as he staggers backwards. Terry wastes no time following up as he spikes Syndicate’s head into the canvas with a one handed bulldog. Terry snaps back up and hits the ropes before fistdropping Syndicate on the mat. The Dark Rebel licks to blood off of his hand to the disgust of the crowd in attendance. Terry watches his challenger fight to get up and twirls his finger above his head.

 

Axis: “He’s signaling for the DDT!”

 

The Dark Rebel locks in a front facelock, but the challenger is too fresh. Syndicate counters Terry’s attempt with a double leg takedown. Syndicate hooks both of his challenger’s leg and catapults him high into the corner. Syndicate sizes up Terry before sinking in a rear waistlock. The newcomer grabs his opponent’s arms and crosses them across each other. Terry tries to wiggle his way out, but to no avail as he is hurled over Syndicate’s head with a straightjacket suplex. The referee raises his hand to count the pinfall, but Syndicate rolls out of it and lifts Terry up again into another straightjacket suplex. The referee lifts his hand again, but Syndicate rolls over again for another straightjacket suplex. Terry is showing very little sign of life as he is lifted on final time, this time released into the air. The fans watch him freefall, almost in slow motion, several feet away from his opponent and they begin to gasp. Terry crashes violently into the canvas in a crumpled heap and Syndicate scurries over to his challenger, covering his seemingly lifeless body.

 

 

 

Ref: “ONE!”

 

 

 

Ref: “TWOOOOOO…

 

 

Ref: “THRE……………….NO!”

 

Terry manages to get an arm up before the three count to the shock of the fans. Syndicate throws Terry’s head between his legs for a PileDriver.

 

Axis: “This looks to be the end for Terry Wayne. This is his last chance and I don’t think he can handle getting dropped on his head one more time.”

 

Knowing that this could be curtains for him, The Dark Rebel clings onto the leg of Syndicate for dear life. Syndicate doesn’t allow Terry a chance to escape, pelting him in the back of the neck with a series of elbows and forearms, knocking him to the canvas. Syndicate throws his head between his legs again and locks in a waistlock. Terry slips through the waistlock and blasts Syndicate in the groin with an uppercut. Syndicate folds over and Terry follows up with a spinning neckbreaker. The Dark Rebel hops to the second rope and measures his challenger. He sails off of the ropes for a diving elbow, but Syndicate moves out of the way at the last second, leaving Terry to fall elbow first into the mat. In one quick burst Syndicate grabs his opponent and fractures him with a pile driver. He hooks the leg for a cover…

 

 

 

 

Ref: “ONE!

 

 

 

 

Ref: “TWOOOOOOO…

 

 

 

 

Ref: “THRE……………..NOOOOOO!”

 

Terry somehow manages to get his foot on the ropes. Syndicate runs his finger across his throat signaling for Vertigo (Owendriver 97).

 

King: “Goodbye Terry Wayne! I wish I could say it was nice knowing you, but you still suck!”

 

Syndicate throws Terry’s limp body over his shoulder, but Terry slips behind him and locks in his patented sleeper hold.

 

Axis: “The tide of this match has turned into the favor of Terry Wayne with one simple move!”

 

Terry sinks in the sleeper with all that he has left, using his last ounce of energy to save his career. The blood from Syndicate is now spraying the mat as Terry continues to cut off his circulation. Syndicate tries to power him back into the corner, but Terry Wayne spins him back around and drags him to the center of the ring. The blood is now masking the face of the newcomer as it pours into his eyes and mouth. His eyes grow heavy and sink down until they are fully closed. Syndicates body begins to slip into the canvas as the fan reaction mixes. The referee begins to lift Syndicate’s arm…

 

Ref: “One”

 

King: “I’ll run in there myself if I have to. I don’t want to have to watch this joker again on my show

 

Ref: “Two”

 

Axis: “One second. Just one second is all that it takes for Terry Wayne to achieve that one win that has eluded him for the past month and a half and save his job here in the SJL. One second and this young man Syndicate could be robbed of an oh so crucial win that he desperately needs in this time of his career…”

 

Ref: “Three!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ref: “NOOOOOO!”

 

Syndicate lifts his arm up and begins to shake, but Terry Wayne tries with all that he has to keep his iron grip around his carotid artery. Syndicate reaches his hands back and grabs the hair of Terry Wayne before dropping him down in a jawbreaker, sending him flying into referee Anthony Michael Hall. Terry tries to pull the referee up as Syndicate wipes the blood from his eyes. Syndicate rises, but Terry surprises him with a kick to the stomach followed by a rapid, earth-shattering DDT. He goes for a cover but the referee is still down. He shakes the referee, trying anything to save the only job that he has and prevent him from going back to the mean streets of Norfolk. In the meantime, Syndicate regains his bearings and creeps behind The Dark Rebel. As soon as Terry turns to lock eyes with his challenger, Syndicate throws him atop his shoulder. Terry tries to slip behind again, but Syndicate locks in a vice-like waistlock and combusts The Dark Rebel’s skull into the canvas with the Vertigo. He lays on top of Terry as the referee begins to stir. The fans are on their feet as Anthony Michael Hall slowly crawls over to the combatants…

 

 

 

 

Ref: “ONEEEEEEE…”

 

 

 

 

Ref: “TWOOOOOOOOOOOO…”

 

 

 

 

Ref: “THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ref: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Terry kicks out at 2 and 9/10’s to the complete shock of Syndicate and the crowd. Terry doesn’t move an inch afterwards and Syndicate covers again, but Terry gets his foot on the ropes. Syndicate hooks his legs and covers again to an even closer two count. Syndicate scales the ropes to head to the very top as the fans wonder how he is going to beat The Dark Rebel Terry Wayne. Once on top, Syndicate points to the heavens. Terry watches him through his glassy eyes measuring him from the sky above. Syndicate leaps gracefully from ten feet in the air, his elbow locked onto Terry like a missile. The look of determination on the face of the newcomer quickly turns to fear as Terry begins to slowly roll out of the way. Syndicate flails in the air before crashing into the canvas below. Terry grabs the ropes to hoist himself up as Syndicate tries to collect his wind on the canvas. With his very last ounce of determination, Terry moves in on Syndicate and locks in a waistlock of his own.

He lifts his challenger up and cracks him into the mat with The Fatal Flaw (Piledriver ending in a tombstone-like position between the knees). He muscles Syndicate over and goes for a cover…

 

 

 

Ref: “ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…”

 

 

Ref: “TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ref: “THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…NO!

 

Syndicate kicks out somehow and both men are practically dead. Terry puts his hands over his face and Syndicate rolls over to his stomach as the referee begins to count them down.

 

Ref: “ONE”

 

Axis: “What can these men possibly do to one another any more? Both men have kicked out of each other’s finishers. The ring area looks like a battlezone!”

 

Ref: “TWO”

 

King: “I don’t know about you Axis, but I can’t see either of these men getting up.”

 

Ref: “THREE”

 

King: “If it’s a double count out, does Terry still leave? I hope so!”

 

Ref: “FOUR”

 

Both men begin to stir as the fans cheer both of them on. Terry roll to the outside as Syndicate makes it to his knees. The Dark Rebel searches under the ring and finds a chair and a small bag. He throws the chair into the ring, but Syndicate gets to it first. Terry grabs another chair and rolls into the ring. Both men stare each other down with a chair in hand. Terry backs up a few feet and empties the contents of the bag into the center of the ring…

 

Axis: “OH MY GOD! THUMBTACKS!!!!”

 

Syndicate wipes the blood from his brow and runs toward Terry. He swings for the fences, but Terry blocks the shot with his chair. The referee calls for the bells and about 20 officials pour out from the back and into the ring to stop the carnage as both men swing their chairs at each other. Syndicate takes Terry down on the thumbtacks, but Terry rolls on top of him. The Dark Rebel grabs a handful of thumbtacks and jams them right into Syndicate’s bloodied forehead. Syndicate repeatedly busts the bottom of the leg of his chair into Terry’s skull, busting him open and officials tear the two men apart.

 

Funyon: “This match has been ruled a DOUBLE DISQUALIFICATION!”

 

The San Antonio police rush to the scene and both men are forcefully escorted to the back.

 

Axis: “What a hell of a match! I can’t believe what I just witnessed! There has to be another battle between these two warriors down the road with the rules thrown out the window!”

 

King: “NO! Terry Wayne did not win this match! He can’t wrestle here anymore! That’s what the rules state!”

 

Axis: “That decision is up to the SJL officials to decide. Stay tuned as we have a whole night of action ahead for the loyal SJL audience! The carnage is just getting started folks!”

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Axis: Alright ladies and gentlemen, our next match pits the TV champion John Duran against a newcomer to the SJL, “The Red Rage” Viktor Tarakanov. John Duran is hot off a victory over Syndicate and looks to keep his winning streak alive by taking down this newcomer in a non-title match.

 

King: I couldn’t be happier with this match Axis. We all know that Duran is my kind of guy and from what I’ve been told, Tarakanov seems to be another man after my own heart.

 

Axis: What exactly have you heard King?

 

King: Well, he’s supposed to be big and mean. That’s enough for me to base a liking off of!

 

The camera switches to ringside to see Funyon, dressed in his 70s prom night best, sweeping off the arms of his suit coat with large clouds of dust visibly emanating from the ancient garb. “Our next match is scheduled for ONE fall and is a non-title match. Introducing first... he weighs in tonight at two hundred and sixty five pounds... he is the SJL Television Champion... John DUUUUUURAAAAAAN!!”

 

Drowning Pool’s “Sinner” hits the loudspeakers and the crowd instantly recognizes the music and begins to boo the TV Champion. He steps through the curtain and immediately the fans boo louder at the mere sight of Duran. John walks down the ramp slowly, staring a hole through several of the booing fans.

 

As he approaches the bottom of the ramp, he spies a couple of young fans, probably in their early twenties, who are yelling obscenities and holding a sign that simply reads “Duran Sucks”. From the looks of the two, the sign is probably the most creative thing they could come up with. Duran approaches the two slowly, looks them up and down, and then quickly spits on their sign. Without so much as a word, John then walks to the ring and enters. He holds his arms up high, with a look of loathing for the fans on his face.

 

Axis: I’ll say it here and now, there is something about John Duran that rubs the fans the wrong way.

 

King: Rubbish! The fans just cant appreciate what Duran has gone through to get where he is, and now that he’s there, their jealousy is at an all time high.

 

Axis: Well, there’s no denying that he’s been through hell to get here and that he’s earned his spot, but there’s really no reason to spit on the crowd.

 

The rocking sounds of “Sinner” fade away and Funyon makes his presence known again. “And his opponent... he weighs in at three hundred and eighty pounds... ‘The Red Rage’ Viktor TARAKAAAANOOOOV!!”

 

A loud symphonic chord blares out of the speakers and a huge red pyro explodes on the entrance ramp, frightening some close by members of the crowd. After the chord ceases, the tune of the “Soviet National Anthem” as sung by the Russian Red Army Choir picks up and Viktor Tarakanov steps through the curtain. He walks slowly down the ramp with a serious look on his face, as the crowd is more or less silent at this newcomer. Met with almost zero reaction, Viktor remains more or less oblivious to the crowd as he walks the rest of the way to the ring, checking the tightness of his wrist tape.

 

King: Well... I’ll be damned. He IS big and mean!

 

Axis: That does appear to be a good assumption, King.

 

Tarakanov reaches the ring and ascends the ring steps slowly. He then walks to the side of the ring and wipes his feet off before entering. As he steps through the ropes the bell rings.

 

 

DING!! DING!! DING!!

 

 

The bell sounds and both men seem to change as they snap into a sort of focus and circle each other carefully. After several passes, Viktor decides to make the first move and attacks Duran with a swift right hand. Duran takes a step back, holding his jaw, allowing Tarakanov the opportunity to charge forward and throw a hard punch at John’s vulnerable midsection. Duran switches from holding his jaw to holding his midsection while Tarakanov takes a step back and rears back for a big punch. Instantly recovering from his pain, Duran ducks the punch and steps behind the Russian, hooking his arms under Tarakanov’s and behind Viktor’s head.

 

Axis: Duran has the full nelson locked in. Will he execute the Break Point so early in the match?

 

Duran pulls Viktor several steps backwards, to put him in better position for his finisher but misses a step and loosens his grip. Tarakanov takes his opening and powers John out of the maneuver completely and grabs him by his black hair and pummels the top of his skull with a few vicious left hands. Finally after the last big punch, Duran is released and stumbles back, not used to facing off with someone of Viktor’s style. Recovering quickly, Duran charges forward with surprising speed and smashes Viktor across the chest with a big forearm.

 

Viktor takes a step back and leans against the ropes but isn’t allowed to rest. John Duran quickly grabs him by the hand and hurls Viktor with all his might into the opposing ropes. Viktor bounces off the ropes out of instinct and comes barreling back towards Duran. The TV Champion then charges forward and slams his body into Tarakanov, forcing the big Russian to slam backwards into the mat with a loud thud. Not missing a beat, Duran charges against the ropes and jumps in the air, landing on top of Tarakanov’s chest with his big leg.

 

Axis: Nice leg drop by Duran. The TV champion is being taken slightly out of his element here tonight, facing “The Red Rage” who comes from a shoot fighting background.

 

King: Ahh, now I see why he’s using all those punches. I thought he just didn’t know how to wrestle.

 

After the leg drop, Duran gets up quickly and backs up, allowing his opponent to rise. Almost immediately after John stands, Viktor gets to his feet, barely paying any attention to the leg drop. Duran approaches Tarakanov carefully and swiftly boots him in the gut, causing the unsuspecting Viktor to double over. John quickly puts his arm over Viktor’s neck and his arm over his and lifts “The Red Rage” high in the air in a vertical suplex. With a tremendous crash, the two come crashing to the ground, prompting a noise of astonishment from the crowd.

 

John Duran stands with a look of determination in his eye, as Viktor languishes on the mat for a moment. Bringing his senses back to him, Tarakanov stands, knowing full well that the mat is one place he does not want to be. Hoping to keep the match in his favor, Duran grabs Viktor by his arm and whips him into the corner viciously. After recoiling slightly from the force of the blow, Viktor settles himself with his arms resting on the top ropes. He is far from safe, however as John Duran charges quickly and pins the big Russian against the turnbuckles with a tremendous clothesline.

 

Axis: Will you LISTEN to the sound that clothesline made? These two men are really hitting each other as hard as they can out there!

 

King: I can respect the effort these two are putting forth, they’re real go-getters.

 

Not used to facing an opponent as strong as himself, Tarakanov is at the mercy of the powerful John Duran. Mere seconds after hitting the charging clothesline, Duran backs up and begins to pound the midsection of John Duran with lefts and rights, giving Viktor a taste of his own medicine. Tarakanov, used to taking punches like these, instinctively blocks one of the punches with his forearm. He takes the moment to pull Duran into the turnbuckle, switching positions. Roles reversed, “The Red Rage” begins to lay in the same type of punches, only with a slightly different effect.

 

John Duran struggles to free himself from his dangerous position, but to no avail as the Russian continues to pummel the TV Champion with deliberate rights and lefts. The frequency of the punches becomes such that Duran is incapable of wincing from an individual punch as Viktor wails away at his chest and midsection with expert force.

 

Axis: Viktor Tarakanov reversing positions with John Duran and driving those fists into the breadbasket of the TV champ.

 

King: It certainly looks like that Ruskie knows what he’s doing.

 

Deciding he’s had enough of being manhandled, John Duran pulls up all his resources and hooks Viktor’s arms in mid-punch and bashes him with a powerful headbutt. As Viktor stumbles back and holds his own head in confusion, Duran charges forward quickly and hits his opponent with a knee strike. The simple but effective set-up maneuver functions to a tee as holds his midsection in pain. With a burst of strength, John Duran quickly lifts Tarakanov onto his knee and then slams him back first into the mat with a brutal spine buster. Quickly John makes a cover on his fallen opponent.

 

 

1

.

.

2

.

 

Not quite yet, as the referee’s hand stops just short of the mat as he yells “TWO!!”. John Duran’s usually focused demeanor instantly snaps to that of blind rage as he looks at the official with a wide-eyed stare. Duran springs to his feet and gets in the ref’s face about the decision, hollering inquisitions and insults at the much smaller official.

 

Axis: Hey, get out of the ref’s face! He’s just doing his job!

 

King: I think that guy needs some glasses, that was CLEARLY a three count.

 

The referee, obviously fairly new to the game, crumples at the intimidation from the enraged competitor, but refuses to change his decision. His anger is a weakness however as his distraction allows Tarakanov to reach his feet behind him and quickly throw his arms around John’s front and lock them. Then with a surprising ease, Viktor lifts his opponent over his head and slams him to the mat. The crowd cannot help but make a noise at the sight of the impressive maneuver, not quite a cheer but more of a shout of excitement. They still aren’t quite sure where they stand with the new wrestler.

 

Axis: Nice belly to back suplex executed by Tarakanov.

 

As Duran lies on the ground stunned, Viktor gets to his knees and then moves over to his opponent’s head. Tarakanov places himself over top of Duran’s chest and then begins to throw punches at his face. He starts out slowly, one fist and then the other. But soon he begins to pick up speed. Suddenly, instead of his usual slow and methodical pace, “The Red Rage” is blaring a furious series of lightning fast punches at the face of the TV champion. His energy spent, Viktor gets up off of Duran and glares down at him, before kicking him in the ribs for good measure.

 

With an experienced grin, he steps back to look at his work. John Duran is dazed as he slowly struggles to his feet, using the ropes as a brace. Knowing he needs to formulate a strategy against Tarakanov, John hesitates before approaching his opponent cautiously. Tarakanov rears back for a big punch but Duran sees it coming from a mile away and throws his arms over Viktor’s, locking arms with the Russian. Both men struggle to gain control of the lock-up but Duran is the man who eventually forces his opponent into the turnbuckles.

 

King: Oh boy... a lock-up. Haven’t seen one of THESE in ages. The Memphis Eel would be SO proud!

 

Axis: Duran isn’t used to taking all those heavy strikes to the head. He’s using a smart strategy here, keep Tarakanov’s arms busy so he cant strike, which is where he has the obvious advantage. Viktor Tarakanov was at one point one of the top shoot fighters in Russia, that’s how we first heard of him.

 

The two men are still struggling in the corner as the referee gets near the two grapplers and tries to break up their positions. Slowly and reluctantly, Duran releases his grip, backing away slowly with his arms raised in the air, assuring the referee he is done with the hold. There is a tense moment as all three men stand in silence... before it is shattered as John Duran delivers a swift kick to the gut of “The Red Rage”. The crowd voices their negative opinion VERY loudly in response. Severely aggravated by this, Tarakanov pushes Duran back and slaps him in the chest with a sharp, stinging sound. Duran isn’t going to stand for any of this and he stands his ground by slapping Viktor right back.

 

Annoyed at the insolence of his younger opponent, Tarakanov punches Duran in the face. John steps back, holding his face, but then responds with another blow and then another. About five stiff jabs to the face, followed by a headlock on Viktor to further immobilize him. Tarakanov backs up as much as he can, trying to get out of the hold, until he reaches the ropes. Viktor sneaks in an elbow to the ribcage, causing Duran to release his hold. The big Russian then pushes John Duran forward with all his might, forcing him to run and bounce against the ropes. Not near ready to go down yet, Duran hits Viktor with a big running shoulder block, but it appears to have no effect on Tarakanov. He stands with a disrespectful look on his face before quickly sprinting to the opposite ropes and bouncing off, nailing Duran with a knee to the gut. John bends over, favoring his midsection, allowing Tarakanov to swing his big leg up and slam it back down on the back of Duran’s head/neck.

 

Axis: What an axe kick by Tarakanov! Let’s get a replay of what just happened.

 

*replay graphic pops up*

 

Axis: Lock-up by Duran. Backs Tarakanov into the corner. Duran almost breaks the hold cleanly but kicks Viktor in the gut. Viktor pushes Duran back and slaps him in the chest. Duran responds with a slap. Tarakanov with a hard shot to the face. John Duran shoots several rapid-fire shots to Viktor, throws on a headlock. Tarakanov backs it up and pushes Duran against the ropes. He responds with a shoulder block, Tarakanov doesn’t budge. Viktor sprints to the opposite rope, charges back with a knee to the gut and then slams Duran back to the mat with a wicked axe kick!

 

King: Wow, I didn’t think you’d remember all of that, Axis.

 

In his excitement, Viktor strikes one of his arms across his chest and yells something very loud and very Russian at Duran. The crowd cheers a bit at this display of enthusiasm, causing Viktor to snap his attention immediately to the fans with an angry glare. He then promptly strikes his hand across his bicep in an extremely agitated manner, obviously not partial to the crowds’ appreciation. The fans’ cheers stop dead and shift to a mild chorus of boos, which causes Viktor’s attention to switch to his opponent once again. Now John Duran is just about standing, but holding his neck in pain, his face twisting with discomfort.

 

Axis: Whoa, I didn’t see that one coming! What the hell is wrong with Tarakanov? The fans were just showing how much they appreciated his effort.

 

King: See, THIS guy has his priorities in the right place! The fans are like a game of craps. One minute the dice are your best friends, a minute later security is throwing you out in the gutter for allegedly using loaded dice.

 

Tarakanov waits for his opponent to completely rise before barreling towards him with an extended arm, looking to hit a lariat, but it is instinctively ducked by John Duran. As the big arm of “The Red Rage” passes over his head, Duran quickly throws his arm under Viktor’s and then behind his head. Duran has a half nelson locked in and is turning around with Tarakanov, trying to lock his other arm under Viktor’s left arm. Tarakanov tries everything he can to dislodge the pest on his back, including several vicious back elbows, but to no avail. Eventually, Viktor makes a mistake and lets John slip his other hand under Tarakanov’s armpit and behind his head, completing the full nelson.

 

Axis: Duran has the full nelson locked in! Will he be successful in hitting his finishing maneuver, the Break Point, this time.

 

King: He couldn’t get it done last time, maybe now he’ll be able to hit it.

 

The crowd starts to buzz as John Duran attempts to lift his opponent in order to hit the move, but Viktor Tarakanov is putting up one hell of a fight. The big Russian is now flailing the portions of his arms that he is still allowed to move in a desperate attempt to get out of the full nelson. Knowing full well what devastation John Duran can cause when he has a full nelson locked in, Viktor is trying to get himself out of that situation by any means necessary. Finally, John Duran finds it in himself and actually lifts the big man off his feet, but still Tarakanov does not go along with Duran’s plan and forces himself back to his feet.

 

Axis: He can’t quite get the big man to stay off his feet to hit the Break Point!

 

Now at his wits end, John Duran furiously tries to lift Tarakanov, but still to no positive end. Viktor now senses Duran’s desperation and now begins his fight to break free of the treacherous full nelson hold. His biceps flex and his face shows strain, trying to remove himself by sheer power alone, but John Duran’s grip holds true. Realizing he is fighting a losing battle of strength, Tarakanov begins to throw his head back, trying desperately to collide heads with his opponent, but Duran’s hands are in the way, thus preventing any such contact.

 

Almost running out of ideas, “The Red Rage” decides to show Duran the meaning of “Between a rock and a hard place” as he muscles himself and his opponent back towards the turnbuckles, crushing his opponent in between, literally forcing Duran to release his hold. At last the hold is broken, causing the crowd to buzz again even louder. Viktor charges forward and gets away from Duran, crouching and holding his neck. John Duran has fire in his eyes as he sprints at Viktor, looking to take his opposition down once and for all. He runs at Tarakanov, using all the speed he can muster, but his head must be too rattled by all of Viktor’s strikes to see what’s coming. Tarakanov rears back his heavily taped right hand and lets it fly forward, colliding squarely with Duran’s face with a smacking sound. John Duran goes down like he’s been shot and the crowd literally gasps.

 

Axis: HOLY SH*T!! Oh... my. You’ll have to pardon my language ladies and gentlemen but that may have been the most DEVASTATING punch I have ever seen! EVER!!

 

King: HOLY SH*T!! HOLY SH*T!! HOLY SH*T!! I have NEVER seen anything like that! What the hell? If he could do that the whole time, then why didn’t he just do it at the start?

 

Axis: I don’t believe he could King. John Duran has taken a LOT of hits to the head tonight, I don’t think that he could have withstood another shot. Its that old shoot fighting strategy, hit ‘em until they cant take anymore... and then hit ‘em some more.

 

John Duran remains a lifeless hulk on the mat as Viktor Tarakanov stands against the ropes, still rubbing his neck. The referee looks at “The Red Rage” questionably, asking him if he wants to make a cover, but the big Russian simply points to the opponent and tells the ref to count. A tad surprised by this, the referee looks puzzled at Viktor, who simply walks forward to the small man and looks down at him. Instantly the official gets the idea and steps out of the way of Tarakanov and shouts in the air:

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

King: What’s he doing? Is he counting Duran out?

 

Axis: I believe that is a pretty good guess King.

 

The referee shouts again:

 

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

Tarakanov cracks a smile on his experienced face and walks slowly to the corner and leans against it cockily, resting himself.

 

 

“THREE!!”

 

 

The body of John Duran remains motionless, not even holding his own face

 

 

“FOUR!!”

 

 

Axis: I can’t believe this King! I don’t think we’ve EVER had someone win a match by knockout before.

 

King: There’s no doubting Duran’s determination, but you’ve got to question just how much punishment he can take.

 

 

“FIVE!!”

 

 

A twitch.

 

 

“SIX!!”

 

 

Duran starts to move, slowly at first, but soon speeding up.

 

 

“SEVEN!!”

 

 

John Duran is now up to one of his knees, holding his face in one hand.

 

 

“EIGHT!!”

 

 

Duran is almost to his feet, struggling to lift himself off of that one knee.

 

Tarakanov’s face hasn’t changed, still cool and confident.

 

 

“NINE!!”

 

 

Duran is almost up, he is clearly off both knees now and struggling to stand...

 

...

 

And the toll of the match is taken on John Duran and he crumples to the mat in an exhausted heap.

 

 

“TEN!!”

 

 

DING!! DING!! DING!!

 

 

The crowd isn’t cheering, it isn’t exactly booing, but it is definitely making noise. The referee walks over to Tarakanov and holds up his hand as his music blares from the loudspeakers. Funyon announces from his seat at ringside, a little shocked at what he’s just seen “Your winner of the match... as a result of a... knockout... ‘The Red Rage’ Viktor TARAKAAAANOOOOV!!”

 

Axis: Well I’ll be damned. The big Russian managed to pull off his first SJL victory... over the TV Champion... by a KNOCKOUT!! That’s one hell of a way to make an entrance!

 

King: But John Duran showed us what he’s made of here as well. He took every bit of Tarakanov’s offense but just kept on a-comin’. That takes truck load of determination to do something like that.

 

Leaving the ring fairly quickly, not wanting much pageantry, Tarakanov walks back up the entrance ramp with a look of contentment on his face. As he walks about half way up the ramp, he spies a couple of fans in the audience with a sign that says “GOD BLESS THE USA” with a waving American flag underneath it. These fans are waving it quite vigorously, very excited that they and their sign are on camera. Noticing the sign, Viktor stops and walks over to the fans, glaring a hole through them. With one quick motion he spits on their sign and walks the rest of the way to the backstage area as the entire crowd erupts in heated boos.

 

Axis: What the hell? That’s not a smart thing to do right now Viktor, good luck pulling out of the parking lot tonight.

 

The Suicide King is red-faced and you can tell that he’s boiling mad.

 

Axis: That’s one way of getting the fans to notice you I suppose. Anyway, we’ll be right back with more great SJL action right after this commercial break.

 

The entire crowd is united in one unified boo and it soon engulfs the sound of the SJL music that leads into a commercial.

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

As The SJL crowd sits in anticipation of the next match, the lights in the entire arena go black and the words "Stand Back! Blazenwing's Comin At Ya!" hits the house speakers. Suddenly, Motorhead's "The Game" hits and the house lights change to green spotlights swirling around the arena floor. The crowd's response is lackluster, expecting another video packaged promo... but they explode when David Blazenwing himself appears on the stage. He is wearing a black T-Shirt with a Triple H-esque jean jacket over it, blue jeans, his signature black sunglasses, black boots and longer, blond hair no longer tied in a ponytail.

 

Axis: OH MY GOD! That's David Blazenwing!!

King: I don't believe it! He isn't dressed like a super-loser anymore! Plus, he's not due back for another two months... what the hell is he doing here!?

Axis: He has a mic... I think we're about to find out!

 

David walks to the ring all jakked up. He's more muscularly built compared to his first SJL outing and the whole superhero gimmick is gone. In fact, he almost resembles the WWE’s Triple H, just without the huge nose. He climbs into the ring and hits all four turnbuckles posing, the jumps back into the ring as the lights return to normal and begins to talk.

 

David: Guess who's baaaaaaack...

 

(Crowd Cheers)

 

David: In case any of you fans don't recognize me without the mask on, let me tell you just who in the hell I am! I AM DAVID BLAZENWING! I AM THE FULL EFFECT! And as of this moment, I am once again a member of the active roster!

 

King: What?! How?

Axis: Did his doctors clear him to wrestle? That was a bad injury he suffered...

 

David: Now, I know all the promos that you saw stated that I would be returning in June of 2003. One day, I turned on the TV to find out that several members of the SJL weren’t showing up to shows and the brand as a whole was beginning to suffer. So, I did the only thing I could think of and worked my ass off in rehab to fix up the torn ligament in my left arm. Hell, I’m not even 100% yet, maybe more like 75-80%. But, I have been cleared to wrestle once again, and that’s all that matters. In fact, I’ll be making my re-debut on the next SJL Wrath! So, all you ass-packing losers in the back who think that I’m still a pushover… I only have one thing to say – HOW WILL YOU DEAL… WHEN YOU’RE FORCED TO EXPERIENCE THE FULL EFFECT?!?

 

(Crowd Chants "David")

 

Axis: Listen to this crowd! They're all happy to see him!

King: I still can't get over the shock! David Blazenwing is back in the SJL! What will SJL Wrath bring?

 

"The Game" plays again and David Blazenwing poses on some more turnbuckles before finally heading up the ramp and into the backstage area.

 

Axis: King, this just goes to show you... ANYTHING can happen in the SJL.

King: No kidding!

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

The Alamodone in Houston, Texas is alive with the hootin’ and hollerin’ of thousands on Texans, hyped up for Smarks Junior League Metal! They wave their cowboy hats and crack whips and everything else stereotypical about the Texans, just to make this opening bit interesting.

 

They have a reason to be loud and pumped up for the next match, as the lights dim and “Three Libras” by a Perfect Circle begins to play its almost haunting tune. Christian Blackwell makes his way out from behind the curtain. With his head down and eyes avoiding the crowd, he slowly walks down the ramp way to the ring, as Funyon gets on the mic once more this evening…

 

“The following match is a singles match, and it will determine the number one contender to Christian Blackwell’s European Title! Introducing first, from Rosslare, Ireland. standing six foot four and weighing two hundred and thirty seven pounds, he is… uh, CHRISTIAN BLACKWELL!”

 

“Tell me something Axis…” King begins to say. “How can you be number one contender to your own title?”

 

“I don’t know King,” Axis admits. “But lord knows those wacky bookers have something planned, or they better, or the fans will be disappointed.”

 

Blackwell walks up the steel steps, glancing to the side to look at the fans, and then down again, climbing into the ring and silently he walks around the squared circle, mentally preparing himself…

 

“An interesting match up, this will prove to be,” Axis begins, before King cuts him off.

 

“Thanks, yoda.”

 

“… Anyway, this will be a serious clash of styles, with Kaine being the most high flying wrestler In the JL at current, against Christian Blackwell, a great technical wrestler and ring general. There’s no doubting that Blackwell will have the experience the advantage, with Kaine being nearly fourteen years his junior.”

 

"Feuer Frei" by Rammstein kicks up as the fans boo right off the bat, even before the Untouchable one, Kaine, comes walking out onto the ramp way, walking to the ring with a mission, glaring at the fans who shout abuse to him, but he just shouts right back! Kaine slides into the ring and immediately plays to the crowd, mocking his opponent as he brushes him across the face and hops around his opponent, grinning cockily, quite sure of himself as Funyon announces…

 

“… And his opponent, from Munich, Germany. Standing five foot seven and weighing one hundred and seventy-four pounds, he is “The Untouchable”, he is… KAINE!”

 

More boos are heard as Kaine smiles once again, seemingly enjoying the attention he’s getting, no matter how negative. He and Blackwell stand across from one another, Kaine keeping his eyes locked on Blackwell, while the drunken Irishman keeps his yes fixed down at the canvas, not looking at Kaine until the bell ring.

 

“This will be a great step in young Kaine’s career if he can win here, that is, if he can keep his ego in check,” Axis remarks.

 

The referee motions to ringside and the timekeeper hits the bell!

 

“Ding, ding, ding!”

 

As always, the bell rings to signify the start of the match, setting the crowd on fire! The noise is incredible as the two men in the ring circle, Kaine hopping around, strafing from side to side while Blackwell keeps his back erect, his eyes solely fixed on Kaine, watching his every move. Kaine, a grin from ear to ear, feigns an attack on Blackwell, pulling back at the last moment as Blackwell defends himself.

 

“Kaine may be confident, but there is no way he’s going to sucker Blackwell into making a mistake, we’ve seen many a man try and all have failed,” Axis comments.

 

“He’s cocky, he’s hotheaded, he’s talented… he’s already won in my book,” King replies with dreamy eyes gazing at Kaine.

 

“Oh please,” King replies. “Last week you were literally swooning over Blackwell, and what happens this week? You forget about him! Now you like Kaine! You’re proving his brother right, Kingo.”

 

“Uh, but Blackwell… he’s cool, he’s gets drunk a lot, he uses cool submissions, I still like him…” Comes King’s reply, almost sounding forced. “But Kaine… he’s exciting! He’s dynamic!”

 

“He’s getting his ass handed to him.”

 

As the commentators exchange meaningless banter, Blackwell takes control of the match already, ducking an early blow from Kaine and grabbing the rookie around the waist from behind. Kaine replies with a go behind, trying to pull the Irishman down to the mat in a rollup, but Blackwell stays firm, blocking Kaine’s futile attempts. Kaine doesn’t let Blackwell retaliate, springing up in the air and sitting atop Blackwell’s shoulders, pounding away at the top of his cranium with right hands! Blackwell staggers around the ring, finally able to toss Kaine off from his shoulders, tossing him into the turnbuckles. Kaine avoids impact however, grabbing the top rope with his hands and bouncing off the second rope, springing back into the air and grabbing Blackwell around the head with his feet! Kaine tries the old trusty flying headscissors, but Blackwell blocks it, grabbing Kaine by the ankles and tossing his legs over the top rope! Kaine nearly loses his balance, but is on the ball and manages to keep his footing on the apron.

 

“Great opening exchange, highlighting both men’s strong points,” Axis comments clearly impressed. “Kaine, thwarted by Blackwell early on, used his greater speed and agility to run circles around Blackwell, but the Irishman is still denying him at every turn.”

 

“Aha!”

 

“Aha?”

 

“Aha indeed! Kaine’s style plays to Blackwell weakness, his drinking problem. Why, Blackwell is probably seeing double the way Kaine speeds around the ring,” King replies with a big grin.

 

“Aha…” Axis looks down at the desk and wonders whether carpentry would have been a better career pursuit.

 

Kaine throws a wild right hand, but punches aren’t exactly his strong point, and Blackwell easily fends it away with one forearm, using his other to clobber Kaine in the jaw. Blackwell grabs Kaine by the arm and throws it over his shoulder, grabbing him by the waist and lifting him into the air with a Suplex! Kaine immediately begins to fight, kicking his legs madly, trying to send Blackwell off balance. He succeeds to a degree, but it only causes Blackwell to improvise, turning his body towards the turnbuckles and letting Kaine’s own momentum drop him on the turnbuckles! Kaine sits on the top rope, momentarily stunned by the hit his… groin took, and Blackwell looks to capitalize, climbing up onto the second rope, setting Kaine up for another clothesline! The Untouchable catches Blackwell with a few right and left jabs to the Irishman’s ribs, knocking him off the ropes! Blackwell, doubled over, doesn’t see Kaine leap off the top rope and catch him on the chin with a missile dropkick!

 

“And Kaine knocks the Irishman down with the force of eight pints,” King says mockingly.

 

Kaine scrambles over to Blackwell and hooks him by the leg, the referee sliding over to make the count.

 

 

… O – n – e – But barely a one count is reached before Blackwell kicks out forcefully, climbing back to his feet as Kaine does also. Kaine tries to press his advantage further, kicking Blackwell in the stomach several times before whipping Blackwell into the ropes… or does he? The answer is no as Blackwell reverses the whip. As Kaine charges back towards Blackwell, the Irishman catches Kaine around the waist with his arms, attempting a belly-to-belly Suplex! But Kaine counters the move as quick as a Bush is to war, kneeing Blackwell in the stomach. Kaine catches a doubled over Blackwell and tries to bring him down with an Evenflow DDT! But THAT is again countered, this time, Blackwell grabs Kaine around the waist and lifts him into the air, holding him up high, before throwing him back down on his knee with an atomic drop! Kaine stumbles backward into the ropes, staggering back to Blackwell, as the Irishman grabs his arm and his waist, hitting a violent snap Suplex to Kaine! The referee dives over ready to count, but Blackwell locks on a submission instead, digging his knee into Kaine’s back while pulling back on his chin, stretching his neck into a way god did not intend.

 

“A simple but purposeful submission move by Blackwell,” Axis notes. “Putting pressure on Kaine’s neck and digging into his spine, but Kaine is awfully close to the ropes…”

 

As soon as Axis points it out, Kaine begins shuffling like a crab, his feet digging into the mat and pulling him forward while Blackwell tries to keep him in place, but to no avail as Kaine reaches out with one foot and places it on the bottom rope! The crowd, behind Blackwell for the first time in a month, sigh in disappointment, but Blackwell pulls Kaine back into the center of the ring, pulling him back into the position he had him before, but this time he rears back with his knee and drives it into Kaine’s spine! Kaine’s arms fall out to the side as he yells out in pain, Blackwell hitting a few more knee strikes before the ref has had enough and forces him to let go.

 

“Just by looking at Blackwell, you can tell he doesn’t know how to react to the fans support for him,” Axis remarks. “Only a week ago they would have cheered such a violent move done on HIM, but now Blackwell is the one loved by the fans.”

 

“Why is Blackwell taking all this to heart?” Asks a confused King. “Surely he’d know by experience that the fans are fickle, he would have seen it all before, so why is it getting to him so much now?”

 

“Every man has a breaking point King, even Blackwell. His brother was shunned by the fans and forgotten. Blackwell has looked over his brother his whole life, and maybe now he sees how much the fans can affect someone’s live, just like his brother’s.”

 

“Kaine can take advantage of this hesitation by Blackwell for his own gain, unless he forgets in his inexperience.”

 

Blackwell rolls back onto his feet, bringing Kaine up with him. Blackwell clobbers Kaine in the jaw with a few well-placed forearm shots before whipping the tiny man into the ropes. As Kaine returns, Blackwell ducks his head very, very early, early enough for Kaine to spot it easily and attempt to kick Blackwell in the face. Kaine plays right into Blackwell’s hands though, literally, as the Irishman grabs Kaine’s foot, rears back and flips Kaine into the air! Kaine easily lands back on his feet, but his momentary pause is enough for Blackwell to charge forward and strike in the face with an elbow!

 

Axis comments, “There’s that inexperience you mentioned King, Blackwell was able to sucker Kaine in easily.”

 

“Of course he’s inexperienced, he’s young, just out of boot camp,” King replies in Kaine’s defense. “But with that youthful inexperience is incredible energy, which matches well with Blackwell, the old, tired, grizzled veteran.”

 

“You make it sound like Blackwell will shake his fist at Kaine while he runs around the ring with his hands above his head…”

 

Blackwell, after that violent blow to Kaine’s nose, grinds his forearm down into Kaine’s face, pinning him to the mat!

 

 

… O – n – e!

 

 

 

 

 

… T – w – But Kaine kicks out, rolling away while wiping a spot of blood from under his nose, the fans loving every minute that Blackwell punishes Kaine. The Irishman doesn’t smile, doesn’t appreciate their support one bit, shaking his head as the fans cheer. Blackwell lifts Kaine back onto his feet, bringing his arm back and chopping Kaine across the throat. The ref glares at Blackwell, but the Irishman stops soon after, whipping Kaine across the ring, the Untouchable one thumping against the turnbuckles. Blackwell runs across the ring, but catches only boot to the face as Kaine places his hands on the top rope and swings up into the air, smacking Blackwell in the face with both feet! Blackwell stumbles backward, but is more determined now, charging once more, but Kaine avoids Blackwell, sliding between his face and jumping into the air, connecting with a dropkick to the back of Blackwell’s head!

 

The Irishman is sprawled out across the turnbuckles. And should really be having his head pounded by Kaine, but instead we find the tiny man playing to the crowd, laughing it up as he mocks Blackwell, climbing the turnbuckles over him and pointing to himself, proclaiming himself the nest European champion.

 

“I’m liking him more and more,” King says with a grin. “He reminds me of… me, in my youth…”

 

“Does this remind you of your youth?” Axis replies, pointing into the ring.

 

Blackwell suddenly comes alive, grabbing Kaine by the legs and lifting him onto his shoulders! The Irishman takes a few steps back before suddenly releasing Kaine and throwing him face first on the top turnbuckle pad! Kaine is stunned in more ways than one as he turns back around, stumbling back towards Blackwell who meets him with open arms, again, literally, grabbing Kaine around the waist and throwing him over his head with a release belly-to-belly Suplex!

 

“Blackwell shows us again why he’s on of the most experienced in this league,” Axis says, impressed. “Able to take the momentum away from his opponent and work himself back into the match!

 

“Well, Kaine needs work, obviously…” King responds, annoyed. “But don’t count him out yet Axis, I have a secret weapon, after all…”

 

As King brings out a pint of Guinness from under the table, prompting a slap on the wrist from Axis, Blackwell forgoes the pin once again, opting to direct his attack towards Kaine’s neck and back, pulling Kaine up and laying him out on his knee, pulling back and twisting on his neck with a Dragon Sleeper!

 

“It’s obvious where Blackwell hopes to weaken Kaine, and I wonder whether the rookie will know how to deal with this,” Axis wonders.

 

“You know, I’m getting quite sick of Blackwell’s underhanded tactics! Injuring a poor unsuspecting wrestler, shame on him,” King bitterly replies.

 

“Last show you said…”

 

“Yes Axis, last show I said how much I despised Blackwell’s underhanded tactics, thank you for reminding me.”

 

“…”

 

The crowd is still fully behind Blackwell, cheering louder every second he clamps down on Kaine’s neck, arching Kaine’s back, twisting his neck into impossible angles. Kaine flays his arms wildly in the air, trying to somehow to escape, but Blackwell holds on tight, not giving him an inch. The referee pressures Kaine even more, asking him if he’ll submit, but Kaine grits his teeth and claims his knows all sorts of counters out of this move. Yet, Blackwell keeps the hold on, holding him in the center of the ring, with nowhere to go!

 

Blackwell suddenly lets go of Kaine, letting him drop to mat and grab his neck, while Blackwell stands back up and looks down at Kaine, then the fans, who appeal for him to put the move on again. Blackwell shakes his head, his face tensing up, lips pursing together as he listens to fans literally order him to attack Kaine. The Irishman disobeys them, lifting Kaine to his feet and taking his time, clobbering him with right hands before whipping him into the ropes. As Kaine returns, Blackwell swings his arm out with a clothesline, but Kaine ducks it. Blackwell, his frustration with the crowd and Kaine growing swings again, but misses by a mile, Kaine ducking again. The Untouchable one points to his head, smiling, almost teasing Blackwell about his superior speed.

 

“Both men have major flaws,” Axis points out. “Blackwell is focusing on the fans too much, and Kaine… is focusing on the fans too much. Gone are the days when a man would focus on WINNING a match!”

 

Blackwell, almost enraged, grabs Kaine by the throat, but the rookie counters with a kick to the breadbasket. Kaine then grabs Blackwell by the arm and spinning around behind him, grabbing him in a headlock! Blackwell knows this move and flips the rookie over his head, but Kaine counters in mid move, turning it into an arm drag!

 

“Both men have exchanged numerous counters during this match,” Axis comments. “It’s a wonder they hit any moves at all!”

 

“And Kaine uses the oldest counter in the book, a freaking arm drag. I swear, the arm drag counter is as overused as gay Riley jokes.”

 

“Dude.”

 

“Ok, maybe not, but anyway, I’m surprised Blackwell didn’t see that coming, his judgement is being clouded by his resentment for the fans.”

 

Blackwell quickly rolls back onto his feet, as does Kaine, who leaps across the ring at Blackwell, trying to catch him in the face with a spinning heel kick, but Blackwell ducks under it easily, grabbing Kaine as he spins around, lifting him into the air and slamming him down on the back of his neck with a German Suplex!

 

“Beautiful move from Blackwell, his judgement isn’t clouded enough to know he has to work the neck, as he has done during this match,” Axis remarks.

 

Blackwell holds on with the bridge…

 

 

… O – n – e!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… T – w – o!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…… T – But Kaine pushes out, breaking the count just as the fans begin to climb from their seats. Blackwell grumbles as he lifts Kaine to his feet, hitting him with some hard forearms before pushing him into the turnbuckles, rearing back and unleashing his traditional….

 

“SLAP!”

 

“Whoo!” … Knife-edge chops, sending Kaine reeling.

 

“Whoo!” He hits another, interchanging between forearm blows to the face and chops to the chest.

 

“Whoo!” “Crisp strikes from Blackwell, the shots echoing through the arena!” King yells.

 

“Whoo!” By now, Kaine’s chest is beet red as Blackwell attempts to whip him across the ring, but Kaine manages to reverse it! Blackwell and Kaine are both hurting towards the turnbuckles, but Blackwell obviously hits first, thumping chest first into the turnbuckles, as Kaine leaps into the air, aiming right for Blackwell… but the Irishman simply elbow Kaine in the neck! The Untouchable one stumbles backward, whimpering with pain as Blackwell shoves him in between his legs in a standing headscissors. Blackwell lifts Kaine on top of his shoulders, holding him high up from the canvas, quite a long way down. Kaine manages to reverse this though, turning it into Hurricanrana! Kaine reaches back and grabs Blackwell’s leg, pinning his shoulders to the mat with his knees!

 

 

… O – n – e!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… T – w – o! But that’s all Kaine gets as Blackwell forces his way out, crawling away, almost upset by Kaine.

 

Axis says, “That move hurt Kaine, as Blackwell’s attention to his neck is finally starting to take its toll. Right now he could capitalize, but with his neck the way it is, he needs to rest, and he better hope Blackwell doesn’t come to any time soon.”

 

“We’ve seen Blackwell do it countless times before,” King replies. “Attack a body part and keep picking at it and picking at it until he almost disables them! Every move that Kaine tries will affect that neck, and as you said before Axis, we’ll see whether he can rally and work around it.”

 

Kaine is on one knee in the corner, holding his neck with one hand and keeping himself steady on the ropes with the other as Christian Blackwell slowly climbs to his feet, the crowd still behind him. Blackwell sense it’s time to put Kaine away as he recovers in the corner and Blackwell sets himself across Kaine at the opposite turnbuckles. Blackwell makes a charge, sprinting across the squared circle, but Kaine counters with a standing sidekick! The kick puts Blackwell flat on his back as Kaine climbs to the top rope, slowly but surely, keeping himself steady, his neck still hurting him. Kaine looks around at the fans, flashing them a smile, as he leaps from the top rope, no doubt for some flashy highflying move…

 

… But instead comes down with a flying elbow drop across Blackwell’s chest! The crowd are surprised, but boos soon resonate as Kaine hooks Blackwell by the leg, the fans chanting along but hoping this isn’t the end…

 

 

“… O – n – e!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“… T – w – o!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“…… T – h – r - No!” Blackwell kicks out! Much to the relief of the fans of course, while Kaine slams his fist on the mat, pointing three fingers at the referee, but the referee stands by his decision, and Kaine frustratingly gets to his feet, hitting Blackwell in the face with a few elbows across the jaw. Kaine whips Blackwell into the corner, slowing the pace down as he slaps Blackwell across the face, prompting boos from the crowd, and even more boos as he starts to strangle him!

 

“Now THIS is promising!” King yells. “We’ve underestimated Kaine, as he dominating Blackwell and keeping away from moves that might injure his neck, as he saw with that flying elbow drop, which was beautifully done by the way.”

 

“Kaine might act like a cocky prick… well, he is a cocky little prick, but he backs up his taunts and words with action, and he is really showing us something right now, showing experience beyond his eighteen years,” Axis replies, although finding it hard to admit.

 

The referee comes across to give Kaine a piece of his mind, but before he can, Blackwell suddenly replies with some stiff right hand blows! Kaine is shocked as Blackwell knocks him back into the center of the ring, kicking Kaine in the stomach and setting him up for a Suplex! Blackwell lifts Kaine into the air, holding him vertically in the air, ready to drop him with a Brainbuster!

 

“This could almost do Kaine, a Brainbuster on his head would surely put him out considering his state!” Axis yells.

 

But the Untouchable one shows he still has plenty of energy left, falling from Blackwell shoulders and landing behind him, grabbing the Irishman around the throat and strangling him again! The referee is tired of this foul play and tries to pry Kaine away from Blackwell, but Kaine growls and knocks the referee away with a back hand, as Blackwell turns around with a spinning elbow, but Kaine ducks and knee’s Blackwell in the groin! Kaine follows up quickly as the fans begin to boo, hooking Blackwell’s arms as he’s doubled over, falling backwards and nailing him with a double arm implant DDT! The boos escalate until the whole building is in an uproar, the referee only recovering now, turning back to the action to find Blackwell lying on the canvas, and Kaine with a huge grin on his face.

 

Kaine, looking around the fans as they cry, “Asshole! Asshole! Asshole!” Suddenly grows hotheaded once again, motioning to the top rope and cutting his throat with his hand, laughing. Kaine sprints across to the ropes, jumping to the top and looking back at Blackwell, who still lies motionless, in prefect position, as Kaine flips off the top rope, falling from the top rope with a Moonsault…

 

…But Blackwell rolls out of the way! Kaine hits his head on the canvas and folds himself up, as Blackwell gets to his feet and dives on top of him, grabbing both his arms in a Chickenwing, and hearing the fans begin to cheer, slams Kaine’s head against the canvas, opening a cut across his forehead as he flips over Kaine and locks on the Cattle Mutilation!

 

“Blackwell’s locked on the Narcosynthesis!” Axis shouts. “Not alone does working on Kaine’s neck limit his move set, but it also sets him up for Blackwell’s devastating finishing submission hold!”

 

“Kaine made a mistake I would NEVER do, and he’ll pay the price now. A Moonsault would have been too much for him to hope to hit, but he tried anyway, inspired by the fans, and it will cost him dearly.”

 

Kaine only lasts around ten seconds as Blackwell locks the move in tightly, forcing Kaine to yell, “I give up!” And for Blackwell to let go, the referee pointing to ringside as the bell rings and Funyon announces…

 

“The winner of this match via submission and number one contender to his own title… CHRISTIAN BLACKWELL!”

 

Blackwell climbs to his feet as the referee tries to raise his hand, but Blackwell shrugs him off as he slides out of the ring, completely ignoring the fans as he walks back up the ramp, leaving Kaine lying in the ring, holding his neck in agony.

 

“Blackwell wins this match, but his future is still undetermined, in more ways than one,” Axis says. “What match will come from this after becoming number one contender to his own title? And what of his relationship with his fans?”

 

“And will he and Timmy form a tag team with the witch as their manager? Puh-lease Axis, you make this sound like an episode of ‘Passions’!”

 

“Oh come on… we’re not that good. Anyway, stay tuned after the break for the big Main Event tag team match! Stay tuned on Metal!”

 

The scene fades out on Blackwell’s eyes, full of scorn as the mystery man meets him at the top of the ramp…

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Fade in from SJL Gear commercial.

 

An outer shot The Alamodome in San Antonio, Texas is shown on the television screen, and a commotion of excitement can be heard exiting faintly. Cut to the inside of the arena and the commotion explodes to ear-bursting levels! The camera recklessly flings itself around to the various sections of the crowd, and thousands upon thousands of people hold up signs – restricting the views of the poor bastards behind them! Once the camera has finished doing its rounds, cut to a shot of the SJL ring and pan over to the commentary position, where the long time SJL commentators sit. “The Lord of the Shed” Axis and “The Ladies Man“ King Of Hearts are bantering to each other, but after being told by Gus that they’re on the air, they cease and turn their focus to the fans at home.

 

“Weeelllcccome back to S! J! L! Metal fans, coming to you LIVE from the Alamodome in San Antonio, Texas! The show ain’t over yet, we still have one more match... and it’s gonna be a killer. Tell us more, King,” says Axis.

 

“Well Axis... my two favourite wrestlers... the KING OF THE WORLD ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins and the Antichrist Superstar Crow are teaming up in a tag match against the Maori Dumbass Va’aiga and he Sherwood Fable Tryst! I am excited, can’t you feel the excitement, Axis!? EXCITEMENT, AXIS!” exclaims King in a high pitched manner.

 

“You’re damn right this is exciting, and let’s not waste anytime, let’s get this match going! Crank the tunes, boys!” shouts Axis, obviously eager for the competitors to get in the ring.

 

The boys backstage do not argue, and almost immediately after Axis’ words multicoloured lights start to flash from above. They illuminate the various sections of the crowds with many shades as Reville’s “Look At Me Now” explodes through the arena speaker system. A montage of Jenkins’ greater highflying moments appears on the Smarktron, causing the Texas crowd to boo heavily and throw forward taunts.

 

“IT’S THE KING OF THE WORLD!” cries King at the sight of Spike Jenkins.

 

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins slowly walks out from the back and onto the stage, slowly because one of his arms in bound in a sling.

 

“Spike still suffering from the result of his match on Crimson it seems,” says Axis.

 

“Are you kidding, Axis!? Of course he is still suffering from it! He got shot in the shoulder with an arrow by that crazy Robin Hood wannabe for god’s sake! He shouldn’t even be wrestling tonight, but he’s a man! He’ll fight through it and still win!” shouts King, once again showing his bias towards Spike Jenkins.

 

Spike flicks his golden locks out of his eyes with his free arm and looks into the crowd. He absorbs the boos thrown towards him with arm wide open and begins to make his way down to the ring.

 

“Well, he may fight through it, but Va’aiga and Tryst would have to the advantage going into this match up. It’s two healthy wrestlers against one healthy and one injured wrestler,” reports Axis.

 

“Coming down the aisle, hailing from Hollywood, California, standing at six foot one inch and weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds, this is... HHHOOOOOOOLLLLYYYYYYWWWWOOOOOOOOOODDDDD SPIKE JEEEEENNNNNKKKKIIINNNNNNSSSSSSSSS!!!”

 

Jenkins takes his time walking up the steel step while the crowd continues to abuse him, he climbs into the ring and walks over to his corner and waits for his partner.

 

...

 

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

 

The snarling opening lines of Soilwork’s ‘Natural Born Chaos” explode over the top of “Look At Me Now” and almost instantaneously the crowd erupts in a mixed reaction of cheers and boos. Of course, more boos are present, but the women who cheer/want Crow’s crotch are quite “oral” when they want to be. The Antichrist Superstar walks out from behind the entrance curtain, with a lit cigarette present in his left hand, and quickly makes his way down to the ring.

 

“Making his way to the ring, hailing from Anchorage, Alaska, standing at six foot two inches and weighing in at two hundred and thirty one pounds, he is the Antichrist Superstar... this is... CCCCRRRROOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!”

 

“Crow looks determined tonight, King. I think he knows that’s he’s going to have to carry the injured Spike Jenkins tonight,” reports Axis.

 

The Antichristian Phenomenon slides into the ring and hops onto his feet, he walks over to Spike Jenkins and the two converse while they await the arrival of Va’aiga and Tryst. The lights blacken out, and the Smarktron comes to life, the video running through a lush green forest at great speeds, finally stopping about 20 feet in front of a man, wielding a bow and arrow. He pulls the arrow back, releases, and as it reaches the screen, pyrotechnics on the opposite wall explode as “Forest” by System of a Down blasts across the loud speakers. Tristan Whitt comes rushing out of the back into the green spotlight on the stage, and behind him follows Va’aiga.

 

“Pft, look at these morons, there is definitely something wrong in the heads of both these guys,” conveys King, pfffting at Tryst and Va’aiga.

 

“Making their way to the ring, standing at a combined height of twelve feet 9 inches and at a combined weight of five hundred and three pounds, this is... TRRRRRYYYYYYSSSSTTTTT AND VA’AAIIIGGAAAAAAA!!!!!”

 

The two fan-favourite wrestlers are showered with cheers and praise from the crowd as they make their way down to the ring. Tryst slides into the ring while Va’aiga steps up onto the apron and climbs over the ropes, the two men quickly rid of their unneeded attire and focus their attention on Crow and Spike Jenkins. Crow just stares at Va’aiga and drags his cigarette while Spike watches Whitt test the ropes tightness... Spike steps through the ropes and places himself on the apron. Va’aiga does the same, thus leaving Tryst and Crow in the ring, and it looks that they’re going to be the two men who start the match.

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

“And hheerrreeee we go! This will no doubt a great encounter full of good ol’ wrasslin action!” exclaims Axis.

 

“LET’S GO, SPIKE! LET’S GO!” shouts King whilst clapping his hands together, in an attempt to get a chant going.

 

Crow and Tryst approach each other in the ring, and Crow puts his arms in the air and wiggles his fingers, asking if Tryst would like to participate in a test of strength. Tryst turns his head from side to side, asking the crowd if he should oblige.

 

“SAVE THE KING!” is the overwhelming answer from the crowd.

 

Hearing the response from the crowd Tryst turns back to face Crow and begins to stick his arms out, but Crow was only teasing and runs to his right into the ropes. The Antichrist Superstar comes off and charges at Tryst, but the Sherwood Fable avoids any damage with a leapfrog over Crow’s head! Crow comes off the opposing ropes and sees Whitt bending down to back body drop him over, but Crow turns his back to Tryst at the last second and doing so, he manages to flip over on the move and land steadily on his feet. Crow motions “Come on!” with his hands, but Tryst turns around and runs into the ropes... Crow decides to run after him, but Tryst comes off and takes Crow down with a shoulder block!

 

“Crow’s taken down with the hip and shoulder tackle, and he splats against the canvas,” reports Axis, doing his usual play by play commentary.

 

Whitt takes a split second to admire his handy work but quickly runs to the ropes left of him and bounces off them; Crow floats over onto his stomach in an attempt to trip Tryst over, but no! Tryst jump steps over Crow and runs into the opposing ropes while Crow quickly hops back, the Antichrist Superstar throws him arm out wildly but Whitt ducks under the clothesline and runs into the opposing ropes one more time! Tryst bounces off and ducks under another clothesline attempt, but this time he swings under Crow’s arm and ends up behind the Antichrist Superstar. The Sherwood Fable latches onto Crow with a waistlock, but Crow hastily counters it into a waistlock of his own – he musters up his strength and tosses Tryst over, trying for the German Suplex! NO! Tryst flips out of the german and lands on his feet, he seizes the moment of Crow’s recovery to apply another waistlock, but Crow counters of that with a hammerlock! Crow backs up to the ropes, but Whitt jumps off his feet into the air and using his free arm clutches the back of Crow’s head! Tryst uses his weight to snap Crow over in a snapmare, thus forcing him to remove the hammerlock. Both men rise simultaneously, and even though he was just snapped over, Crow manages to sneak himself in the right position and flip Whitt over in a quick arm drag. Another simultaneous rise by both men but this time Tryst flips Crow over with an arm drag and is quicker to his feet, he manages to capture the rising Crow in a snapmare! NOO! Crow flows out of the move with a handstand and runs towards the ropes, he jumps up onto the second rope and corkscrew off of them! The Antichrist Superstar hits Tryst with a springboard plancha and gets the cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

KICK OUT!

 

“The Sherwood Fable kicks out of the pin attempt after being taken down by a plancha, a nice fast wrestling sequence we just saw, wasn’t it, King?” asks Axis, curious to see what his counterpart has to say.

 

“I could do it better,” remarks King in a cheeky response.

 

Tryst pushes Crow off of him and both men quickly rise, except Crow grabs the advantage this time and punches Tryst back to the ropes. Crow rears his arm back...

 

*SMACK!*

 

“Woooooooooo!”

 

*SMACK!*

 

“Wooooooooo!”

 

Blood vessels burst beneath Tryst’s skin and his chest turns a pinkish red, Crow latches onto Tryst’s arm and whips him into the opposing ropes! Tryst bounces off and runs towards Crow... Tryst gets the flying headscissors and takes Crow for a bit of a spin! The momentum of the move causes Crow to roll back up onto his feet, and he decides to charge at Tryst, but Tryst sidesteps Crow! The Antichrist Superstar runs recklessly past Tryst and straight into the turnbuckle, he staggers back... but only into the waiting arms of Whitt! Tristan lifts Crow’s leg up laterally and places his head under Crow’s arm... he heaves the Antichrist Superstar up and falls back – hitting a backdrop suplex! The Sherwood Fable floats over for the cover...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

CROW KICKS OUT!

 

 

“Crow kicks out at two after taking a nice backdrop suplex delivered by Tryst!” reports Axis.

 

“That’s all right, it’s all right, Crow can get back into from here... he has the intelligence advantage over both Tryst and Va’aiga,” says King, trying to convincing himself.

 

Tryst wretches Crow up by the hair and tries to throw him over in a hip toss! But no! Crow stops the hip toss and floats over! Crow tries a hip toss of his own! NO! Tryst counters and floats overs! NO! Crow with the hip toss attempt! NOO! The two move further and further towards the ropes as they exchange hip toss attempts and counters. The Antichrist Superstar floats over once again but this time gets the hip toss, but the back of Sherwood Fable’s leg hit against the top rope and Tryst uses this jettison to his advantage – back flipping off of the rope! Whitt latches onto Crow’s arm as he falls down to the canvas and flips Crow over in an arm drag!

 

“What the hell was that, Axis!?” queries King, amazed by Tryst’s innovative move.

 

“Some kind of arm drag, King!” begins Axis. “Tryst just made the best of a not so good situation!”

 

Both men rise, but Tryst does more quickly and applies a front face lock on Crow! He lifts him up and overhead! Slam into the canvas goes Crow with a basic vertical suplex; Tryst floats over into the cover...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

NOOOOO!

 

The count is stopped by Spike Jenkins, who climbed through the ropes and kicked Tryst in the back of the head viciously.

 

“And referee Sexton Hardcastle has a word with Spike, telling him to get back to his corner,” reports Axis.

 

“Pffft, what’s he supposed to do!?” asks King. “Let Tryst pin Crow? Don’t be stupid.”

 

Whilst the referee tells Spike off, Tryst drags Crow over to his corner and tags in Va’aiga.

 

“MY HOUSE!” is the overwhelming response from the crowd to this tag.

 

“And the MAORI BADASS VA’AIGA has entered the match up for the first time tonight!” shouts Axis, seemingly very excited.

 

“Oh yay...” sarcastically comments King.

 

Va’aiga pulls Crow up and throws him into the turnbuckle where he unloads a flurry of offence!

 

 

LEFT CROSS!

 

 

LEFT CROSS!

 

 

LEFT CROSS!

 

 

... A kiss of the fist...

 

 

RIGHT HOOK!

 

The Antichrist Superstar is floored and his body slumps against the turnbuckle... Va’aiga pulls Crow out of the turnbuckle and close to the middle of the ring via the blackened strands of Crow’s hair. Va’aiga brings down some heavy forearms on Crow’s back causing him to double over, the Maori Badass pushes Crow back up from the doubled over position and then locks his arms around Crow’s waist. The Maori Monster heaves Crow over head and releases, sending Crow flying onto the mat!

 

“What a HUGE belly to belly suplex, I felt the vibrations in the earth from that one! And Va’aiga goes for the cover!” reports Axis.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

NOOOOO!

 

“HOLLYWOOD STOPS THE COUNT! Like every good tag team partner should!” exclaims King, obviously supporting the team of Spike and Crow.

 

Spike Jenkins kicks Va’aiga in the back of the head to break the count and save Crow from the three count. Va’aiga shoots up onto his feet and almost makes a charge at “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins, but he restrains himself and picks Crow up. Va’aiga positions himself behind Crow and reaches around Crow’s body with one of his legs and hooks the leg, he then locks Crow’s arm with his own and begins to pull and stretch the Antichristian Phenomenon!

 

“Va’aiga locks in a strong abdominal stretch,” begins Axis. “A very painful and agonising submission move.”

 

Crow’s face turns into one of pain as Va’aiga stretches and stretches... referee Hardcastle asks Crow if he wants to submit but Crow doesn’t respond, he just tries to struggle out of the move. It’s no use though, as Va’aiga launches his free fist into Crow’s floating ribs and almost instantly stops him from struggling. “Hollywood” climbs through the ropes and breaks the abdominal stretch by kicking Va’aiga in the back numerous times.

 

“Once again, Spike helps his tag team partner out of a tough spot! What a reliable tag partner “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins is!” comments King, obviously biased towards Spike Jenkins.

 

Sexton Hardcastle orders Spike back to his corner while Va’aiga wretches Crow back up from the slump in which he lied after the abdominal stretch. The Maori Badass clutches onto Crow’s arm and whips him into the ropes, Crow comes off and Va’aiga throws a wild lariat! But no! Crow ducks under it, once again showing life! Crow jumps onto the second rope... he backflips off the ropes and hits a moonsault press on Va’aiga!

 

...

 

Or does he...? Va’aiga catches Crow across his shoulder and powerslams Crow down HARD onto the canvas!

 

“What a move, but what a counter! Va’aiga using his big man strength to stop Crow in mid air and slam him down!” exclaims Axis.

 

Va’aiga covers!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

TTHRRNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“SPIKE JENKINS BREAKS UP THE COUNT AGAIN! Someone should just staple his feet to the apron, King!” shouts Axis.

 

“Pfffffffft, you can’t hold down Spike any more, Vince!” remarks King.

 

Sexton Hardcastle is quick to get in Spike’s face and Spike is quick to retaliate with his own screams! Va’aiga gets up, ready to plough the both of them down in true Maori fashion... but Crow using this moment of distraction to his advantage hits a low blow on Va’aiga! Va’aiga falls to the canvas and so does Crow, the powerslam has taken a lot out of him and it took every last ounce of strength to sit up and low blow Va’aiga!

 

“Oooohh! Crow just hit a low blow on Va’aiga, and from the looks of things, Tryst ain’t happy,” says Axis.

 

“Of course he isn’t, he is screaming out at Stillwell to fetch his bow and quiver,” adds King.

 

Both men are down on the canvas, one stirring slightly and the other clutching at his mongrel balls. Crow begins to crawl towards his corner and towards the outstretched hand of Spike Jenkins... he’s almost there... so close....

 

 

...

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOO! VA’AIGA GRABS A HOLD OF CROW’S FOOT AND DRAGS HIM BACK TOWARDS THE CENTER OF THE RING! The crowd cheers and cheers for this as Va’aiga rises back to his feet! The Maori Monster wretches Crow quickly up and whips him into the ropes, Crow comes off and is spun up onto Va’aiga’s shoulders with a tilt a whirl!

 

“We know what comes next! THE POWERBOMB ALL THE WAY FROM NEW ZEALAND!” screams Axis, extremely excited.

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! CROW PULLS HIS LEGS OUT FROM VA’AIGA’S CLUTCH AND DRIVES THE MAORI’S HEAD INTO THE CANVAS WITH A SKULL CRACKING MAT SLAM!

 

“What a counter from Crow, Axis!” shouts King. “Absolutely brilliant work from the Antichrist Superstar, all he needs to do now is get the tag to Spike!”

 

Both men are down once again and the crowd rallies behind Va’aiga, encouraging him to get up and KICK ASS! Crow crawls over to Jenkins rather hastily... he gets the tag and here comes Spike with sling and all! Spike quickly runs over to Tryst and gets in his face...

 

“FETCH MY BOW AND QUIVER, TRISTAN!”

 

Tryst is angered by such tomfoolery that he climbs through the ropes... but Sexton Hardcastle stops him from entering the ring, thus allowing Spike to do his dirty business! Spike briskly rushes back to Va’aiga and drops to his knees, he drives his head into Va’aiga’s crotch, causing the Maori to jettison up from the canvas! Jenkins cockily walks around the ring and shouts out to the crowd...

 

“I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD!”

 

“Jesus, this Spike Jenkins has some nerve, King,” spits Axis in disgust at what he’s seeing.

 

“He has the right! Don’t you know!? HE’S THE GREATEST WRESTLER IN THE WORLD!” exclaims King.

 

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins smirks to himself and points at Crow saying “Check this out!” Spike positions himself over Va’aiga and looks down at him, Jenkins slaps the Maori Badass’ face mockingly and laughs.

 

...

 

But the laughter is cut short! Va’aiga suddenly reawakens and his hand fires straight up, clasping itself around Spike Jenkins’ throat! Spike tries to cry out but he cries are muffled by the choking! The Maori Monster rises back to his feet with a murderous intent... and he applies a standing headscissors on Spike! Va’aiga gut wrenches Spike up...

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” screams King.

 

 

...

 

 

 

AND THROWS HIS DOWN BACK FIRST INTO THE CANVAS WITH A BBIIIGGGGG POWERBOMB!

 

“TURN UP, KICK ASS!”

 

The crowd roars along with the Maori Badass... but he doesn’t go for the pin, instead he points towards Tryst and asks if he’d like to have some fun kicking Spike’s ass! Tristan Whitt sticks out his hand in a yes and Va’aiga walks up and slaps it! The crowd cheers even louder.

 

“I think Tryst wants a bit of the action tonight, King! Whoooo!” shouts Axis, almost glued to his monitor.

 

In comes the Sherwood Fable! Tryst comes running in with a purpose, Spike Jenkins mocked him and he’s not gonna get away with it! Whitt picks the half-dead Spike Jenkins back up to his feet and almost sends him flying down with a vicious punch to the injured shoulder! “Hollywood” screams out in agony as he shoulder throbs and pulsates, shooting pain throughout his entire body. Tryst is merciless against such an evil fiend like Spike Jenkins and continues to throw punches at the shoulder! Again! Again! And again and again he throws the punches! Spike tries to fend off Tryst’s punches with some of his own (using his healthy arm of course) but it’s no use as Tryst just jumps back and avoids them. The Sherwood Fable pulls Jenkins’ head under his armpit and locks on a front face lock... he drops down and slams Spike’s head into the canvas with a big DDT! Cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

THHHHHRRRNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

 

“Crow stops the count just in time by flinging himself on to Tryst’s back with a somersault senton! King, this match is become one of epic proportions!” reports Axis.

 

Crow quickly runs back to his corner before the referee can have a go at him, meanwhile Tryst gets back to his feet and picks up Spike Jenkins once again. The Sherwood Fable lifts “Hollywood” up and scoop slams him down... he then backs up to the ropes and bounces off! He jumps into the air and drops a leg on Spike Jenkins’ throat! But Tryst does not cover, instead he runs to the turnbuckle where Va’aiga stands and ascends to the top rope, there he crouches and waits for Spike to get back to his feet. The Antichrist Superstar hits the turnbuckle and yells at Spike, encouraging him to get back to his feet and come and make the tag, but Spike is dazed... and slowly gets back to his feet. That’s all well and good, except he’s stumbling the wrong way!

 

“No Spike! Turnaround, stumble the other way! NOOOOO!” cries out King.

 

He’s stumbling towards the enemy corner and Tryst realises that it’s time to go! The Sherwood Fable jumps off the turnbuckle and captures Spike’s head between his legs and swings around, causing Spike to fly around and have his head driven into the mat by a beautiful hurracanrana off the top! The momentum from the hurracanrana causes Spike to roll back up to a vertical base... but of course he cannot keep still and is staggering around like Christian Blackwell on New Years Eve! Tryst grabs a hold of Spike’s healthy arm and whips him into the corner of Va’aiga... but NO! Somehow Jenkins’ reverses the whip and sends Tryst flying face first into turnbuckle! Tryst stumbles out and Spike whips him into the corner of Crow, using his “intelligence” Spike grabs a hold of the referee and turns his eye away from that particular corner – thus allowing Crow to be naughty. Whitt runs face first again into the turnbuckle, and quickly Crow hops on to the turnbuckle and applies a front face lock on Tryst.

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

CROW SWINGS OFF THE TURNBUCKLE AND DRIVES TRYST’S HEAD INTO THE CANVAS WITH THE MURDEROUS DDT!

 

“Dammit, that bloody cheating Crow! And that damn near cements the win for Crow and Spike... that disgusts me,” conveys Axis.

 

“YES! GOOOOOOOOOOOO CROW!” merely screams King.

 

The crowd jeers and boos the Antichrist Superstar as he slides out of the ring as fast as he can, whilst Spike lets go of the referee and jumps on Tryst for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TTTHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

 

“TRYST KICKS OUT! TRYST KICKS OUT!” screams Axis with a sigh of relief.

 

The crowd goes fuckin’ nuts for the Sherwood Fable and starts screaming a line we’re all familiar with.

 

“SAVE THE KING!”

 

Spike Jenkins and Crow can’t believe it! Spike especially, as he jumps onto his feet and starts screaming at Sexton Hardcastle! Spike then quickly focuses his attention back to Tryst and lifts him back up, Spike fires a punch with his healthy arm and it rocks Tryst a bit. “Hollywood” then latches onto Tryst’s arm and whips him into the rope, and expecting Tryst to come bouncing off at a hundred miles an hour jumps into the air and kicks his legs out in a front dropkick! BUT NOOO! Tryst holds onto the ropes and Spike falls on to the floor... Tryst staggers over to Va’aiga... he’s close...

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

He’s almost there...

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

HE’S GOT THE TAG TO VA’AIGA!

 

 

 

“And Va’aiga gets the tag! He’s pissed off and he’s now looking to take it out on Spike Jenkins and Crow!!” exclaims Axis.

 

Va’aiga roars and storms through the ropes, Crow climbs through the ropes charges at Va’aiga but his body is broken in two by a train full of pain! RUNNING RRRRUUBBGGYYY TACKLE! Crow rolls out of the ring and onto the concrete floor whilst Va’aiga turns to his attention to Spike Jenkins who just stood up from landing on his back.

 

 

...

 

 

But Spike’s not standing for long...

 

“MY HOUSE~!”

 

... Va’aiga screams out and the crowd responds with huge cheers! Va’aiga points at Jenkins, symbolising that he is going down! Injured and not to mention cowardly, Spike turns around and tries to escape the ring but no! Va’aiga pulls Spike Jenkins back by into the ring by the golden locks and unleashes a MAORI FLURRY upon the pretty boy face of Spike!

 

LEFT!

 

RIGHT!

 

LEFT!

 

RIGHT!

 

LEFT!

 

UUUPPPPPPPEERRRRRRCCCCCUUUTTTTTT!!!!1

 

Jenkins’ body is elevated off the ground with the huge uppercut, and he flies backward into the ropes! Va’aiga chokes Spike with his huge hands and referee Sexton Hardcastle screams at to break it up!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

“LET GO OF THE HOLD!”

 

 

Va’aiga lets go of the hold but only to latch onto Spike’s injured arm and Irish whip him into the opposing ropes!

 

“I think I know what’s coming here, it’s time for the Yakuza Kick!” screams Axis.

 

“NOOOOO! Spike, do something! Use your kingly intelligence!!” shouts King.

 

Jenkins comes off the ropes whilst Va’aiga begins to run and stick his leg up! Spike using his “intelligence” sees an opportunity to avoid the kick and thus grabs Sexton Hardcastle who was a bit too close to the action and drags him in front! The Maori Yakuza Kick ploughs through Sexton Hardcastle’s face and sends him crushing down to the mat!

 

“Oh no! Sexton has been knocked unconscious! Oh dear!” cries King sarcastically.

 

“Normally I would clap such an event, but not in this case, cause this means Spike weaseled him way out of getting pinned! Va’aiga should have just got the three count off the Yakuza Kick!” shouts Axis.

 

Spike Jenkins looks down in approval of his clever thinking, but then turns his head up and very quickly the smirk adorning his face disappears... glaring at him is the Maori Badass, steam oozing out of his ears... “Hollywood” cries out as Va’aiga runs at him and heaves him up! Spike Jenkins is horizontal across Va’aiga’s monster chest... Va’aiga runs across the ring and jumps up!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

*BOOM!*

 

RRRUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGG MAORI DDDRROOPPPPP!

 

“SPIKE JENKINS HAS BEEN TAKEN OUT! THIS SHOULD BE IT!” excitably cries Axis.

 

“Don’t you mean WOULD be it!? You’re love of the halfing’s leaf has clearly slowed your mind, cause there’s no referee to count it!” laughs King.

 

Va’aiga holds for the cover, and after a few seconds realises that the referee is knocked out on the canvas. He thinks for a moment, and not being known for his high IQ, he walks over to the ref and hopes to revive him by pulling him off the canvas and shaking him! Granted, it provides a humourous visual to the crowd yet it really has no effect in waking up the referee. Meanwhile on the outside, Tryst is assaulting Crow, and now realising that there is no referee watching his actions, he runs to the timekeeper’s table and grabs his bow and arrow! At the same time, Crow is slowly getting back to his feet with the aid of the railing... and a young female fan clad in a Crow “Antichrist Superstar” shirt. The girl looks about 16 and she rubs her hands against Crow’s chest and grins like a crazed girl in mad love. The Antichristian Phenomenon isn’t exactly going to stop her either and lets her go nuts.

 

“Isn’t that illegal?” queries Axis as he cocks his eyebrow.

 

“FIEND!”

 

Crow suddenly remembers what the hell he’s out there for and he turns around, but only to see Whitt holding his bow and arrow... and it’s aimed at Crow’s crotch!

 

“THE PRINCESS’ HYMEN SHAN’T BE BROKEN!”

 

“Say what!? He’s aiming at Crow’s crotch, Axis!” shouts King in a high pitched tone.

 

The Antichrist Superstar shouts as the Sherwood Fables fires the arrow!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! CROW JUST BARELY AVOIDS GETTING HIS NUTS SHOT BY FALLING BACKWARDS OVER THE RAILING!

 

“OH MY GOD! He tried to ruin the dreams of females everywhere! He tried to kill Crow’s crotch! Tryst is an evil, eeevviiilll man!” exclaims King.

 

“I’d say he tried to ruin Riley’s dreams as well, King,” adds Axis.

 

“Not to mention mine!” shouts King.

 

“...”

 

The arrow penetrates the railing, and is stuck exactly where Crow’s crotch would have been if he hadn’t moved. The Antichrist Superstar falls into the lap of the girl who was just fondling him, and she and her friends blush and giggle madly, except this time Crow isn’t gonna lap up the attention. He hastily gets back up to his vertical base and immediately turns to escape, but Tryst is too quick and knocks Crow down with a dropkick off the railing. Crow stumbles face first to the concrete floor, and Tryst doesn’t let the assault stop, he pushes Crow over onto his back and elevates him via the hair. Tryst pulls out another arrow from his quiver and pulls it back...

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

HE SWIPES IT ACROSS CROW’S CHEST!

 

“Ooooooooh! That was brutal, King! BRUTAL!” shouts Axis.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

AND AGAIN!

 

“Stop it, fiend! Stop it now or I’ll have you, Mr Robin Hood wannabe!” yells King.

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

AND ONE MORE TIME ACROSS CROW’S FACE!

 

“Crow is now bloodied and is bleeding more than I have seen in a long while,” reports Axis.

 

Blood pours from Crow’s new wounds as Tryst pulls him up to a standing position; he locks arms around Crow’s waist and places his head under Crow’s arm...

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

WAIT! As he’s being lifted Crow throws some violent forearms at Tryst’s back, and throws some more! Tryst staggers and drops Crow back to the ground, allowing him to break out of the lock around his waist... and he doesn’t waste anytime taking it to Tryst...

 

 

...

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

Crow thrust his leg through the air and kicks Tryst in the GODDAMN HEAD!

 

“Das Wunder Kick!”

 

Whitt stumbles back but is soon entrapped in a tight front face lock applied by Crow... Crow musters all of his strength and heaves him up! Tryst is upside vertical in the air... Crow jumps up, kicks his legs out and falls backwards into the concrete floor – thus driving Tryst’s head into the canvas at a neck-breaking angle!

 

“NNNATTUUURRRRRRAAALLLLL BBOOORRRRRNN CCHHHAAAAAOOOOOOSSSS!” exclaims King at the sight of one of his favourite moves.

 

“And Crow puts Tryst out of the contest with a NBC on the concrete! Tryst will not be moving for a long time tonight!” reports Axis.

 

The Antichrist Superstar is back to his feet quickly, he realises that there is an assault happening in the ring, it’s elementary for god’s sake, a healthy Spike Jenkins has no chance against a fuming Maori, let alone an injured Spike Jenkins! Crow grabs a chair and hops over the railing, a sense of urgency is further increased as his eyes are cast upon a dead Spike Jenkins being thrown around the ring mercilessly. The referee is beginning to stir in the ring, Va’aiga notices this and roughly pulls the referee to his feet and pushes him into the ropes. Sexton falls back to mat, as cobwebs anything but gone within his head. Crow slides into the ring and rises to his feet, holding the steel chair high... he waits for the Maori Badass to turn around. Va’aiga grunts and turns around...

 

...

 

*THWACK!*

 

...

 

Crow rocks Va’aiga with a brain-cracking chair shot... but Va’aiga just stands there and shakes his head! Crow is stunned and throws his chair up in the air again... and brings it down hard once more time!

 

...

 

*THWACK!*

 

...

 

The Maori Badass just roars out and bashes his fists against his chest... Crow throws the chair behind him...

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

AND CRACKS IT ACROSS THE SIDE OF VA’AIGA’S HEAD!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!!!!” moans the crowd.

 

“Good god I’m not a commie! That was the most vile chair shot I have ever seen in my whole life!” shouts Axis at the top of his voice.

 

The chair is tattered and broken, Va’aiga stumbles around... he eventually falls backwards to the canvas! Crow pulls the limp, lifeless Spike Jenkins over and places his arm over the chest of Va’aiga... as Crow knows he isn’t the legal man. The Antichrist Superstar grabs referee Sexton Hardcastle (who is now just barely awake) and makes him start the count. Sexton does so... very slowly...

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

..

 

 

“Yes yes, Crow and Spike are gonna win!”

 

...

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

“NOOO! NO! KICK OUT, VA’AIGA! KICK OOUTTT!”

 

..

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

TTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Ah, dammit! That’s not right,” conveys Axis, disgusted at what he just witnessed.

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

“The winners of this bout as a result of a pinfall... HOLLLYYYWOOOD SPIKE JJEENNKKKIIINNNNSSSS AND CCCCCCCRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!” reports Funyon with his booming voice.

 

“Woooooooo!! What a match, Axis! Full of highlights and what a great finish! Deserving winners I say,” exclaims King, clapping his hands together.

 

“Deserving? Va’aiga was robbed! Crow came busting in with a chair while the referee was still out! Va’aiga and Tryst should be winners of this match via DQ!” furiously shouts Axis.

 

“Oh, but it was alright when Tryst sliced Crow up with an arrow?” rebuts King.

 

While the two commentators banter on, Crow helps the now coming to Spike Jenkins to his feet in a surprising show of sportsmanship... Spike looks at Crow, and Crow looks back.

 

“Wait a minute, King. What’s going on here?” queries Axis.

 

...

 

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins extends his hand... Crow looks down at the hand, and then cocks his head to the right, looking into and then to the left. The crowd boos heavily as Crow extends his hands and the two shake hands.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

BUT WAIT! CROW KICKS SPIKE IN THE STOMACH AND PULLS HIM FORWARDS!

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

“NNNNAAATTTUUUURRRRRRAAAAALLLLL BBBORRRRRRRNNNN CCCCHHHHAAAAOOOOSSSSSSSS! Crow just broke Spike’s neck with the jumping brainbuster suplex!” exclaims Axis.

 

“Noooooooooo! What are you doing, Crow!? Why did you do that to the King of the World!? And after they worked so well in that together...” mourns King, shocked and dismayed over Crow’s actions.

 

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins lies motionless on the mat and Crow just laughs at him... the Antichrist Superstar throws his arms out horizontal and makes the crucifix pose to a surprising amount of cheers. He then turns to the timekeeper and motions with his hand, asking for his pack of smokes.

 

Crow catches his smokes thrown to him by the timekeeper and lights one up. He drags back on the cigarette and looks into the camera...

 

“Victims... aren’t we all?”

 

The Antichristian Phenomenon exits the ring and heads to the back, leaving carnage and bodies in the arena behind him...

 

Fade out.

 

Smarks Junior Leagues © 2003

[Guest Longdogger_Pete]

Welcome to Default City, guys. Here's the rundown.

 

Syndicate and Terry Wayne wrestle to a double DQ in Wayne's match.

 

Victor Tarakanov debuts with a victory over John Duran.

 

Christian Blackwell defeats Kaine to become the #1 contender to his own title.

 

And in the main event, Crow and Spike beat Va'aiga and Tryst in a solo effort from Crow.

 

Wrath coming later.