SJL Wrath, 4-20~!

April 21, 2003

Card:

N00BIE SINGLES MATCH

Charlie "Grappler" Matthews vs. Leo Breslin

Description: Two new recruits join the SJL lineup here on Wrath. They tangle in a deadly duel to discover which one of them might possibly be the greatest n00b of them all! Well, for this week, anyway.

Rules: Standard.

#1 CONTENDERSHIP - SJL TELEVISION TITLE

David Blazenwing vs. Syndicate

Description: He's back! The masked hero David Blazenwing has returned to action two months early -- and he made such a rush to return that he accidentally left his mask at home! Blazenwing tangles with recent addition Syndicate for his return match, and with a shot at the TV title on the line, he's sure to give us a show.

Rules: Standard.

SJL TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP

John Duran © vs. "Dark Rebel" Terry Wayne

Description: John Duran was lucky in avoiding having to defend his TV title on Metal. Lucky especially since he lost. His luck changes on Wrath as he defends against the returning Terry Wayne, who has a chance at becoming a two-time, two-time champ.

Rules: Standard.

#1 CONTENDERSHIP - SJL EUROPEAN TITLE

FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE MATCH

Kaine vs. Viktor Tarakanov

Description: Two ringers fight. One may have a chance to become a European champion again, for the first time. Wow, that's surreal.

Rules: Falls count anywhere. Duh. Oh, but DQ still applies inside the ring.

#1 CONTENDERSHIP - SJL WORLD TITLE

Christian Blackwell vs. Dace Night

Description: Sean Atlas will defend his SJL World Championship next week on Crimson, against Crow... and a third opponent to be decided here. Yes, the match will be a triple threat. Blackwell is in this match in lieu of having to face himself for his own title (yeah, I know you would have wanted to see that); while Dace is itching for a rematch for his lost gold.

Rules: Standard.

LADDER MATCH w/FABULOUS PRIZES

Crow vs. Tryst

Description: Crow earned a shot at Sean Atlas and his SJL World Title. That match (with third opponent to be decided) will happen on Crimson. Now, here's a twist. The winner of this match chooses the stipulation for Crimson's World Title match. That's good for Crow -- if he wins, he chooses the stipulation for his own title shot. What's scarier -- someone like Crow picking the stip? Or someone picking a stipulation for a match he isn't even in? Particularly someone as demented as Tryst?

Rules: No DQ. No pinfall or submission. To win the match, you must grab the clipboard with the World title contract suspended from the ceiling over the ring. How do you get that clipboard? Use ladders. Not exactly brain surgery. Crow and Tryst, please PM Zed (realitycheck) with your match stipulation as soon as possible (preferably BEFORE the due date).

MAIN EVENT HANDICAP MATCH

Sean Atlas vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins & Va'aiga

Description: What the hell? Spike and Va'aiga as a team? Um... Well, we here at JLCC decided that before Atlas defends his title next week, he should have a serious test of his mettle, and so we put him in this handicap match. Can Atlas fend off two main eventers and still have enough stamina remaining to defend his title next week? Or will Spike and Va'aiga be utterly unable to work together and cause pure chaos to ensue?

Rules: DQ and countout rules apply normally. Spike and Va'aiga must tag in and out.

April 21, 2003

Axis: This is SJL Wrath, and King, what a match this next contest is going to be.

Suicide King: It’s the newbie match. You know how these things go. One guy will start his SJL career with a W, and the other…won’t.

Axis: Extremely insightful commentary there, King.

King: I try.

The house lights dim near the entry way, and silently, stoically, Charlie “Grappler” Matthews walks to the ring. He is followed closely by his pencil-necked manager, James Matheson, dressed in a vibrant purple suit with matching purple bowtie. Funyon takes the mic.

“LLLLAAAAAADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR OOOOOOONE FALL!!!!!! APPROACHING THE RING, ACCOMPANIED-“

Axis: What the-? James Matheson cut Funyon off in mid-sentence! What’s he saying?

Funyon, startled, raises the mic to his lips again.

[in a serious monotone] “Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall. In the ring, from Kansas City, Missouri, he stands 6 foot 7 inches, and weighs 299 pounds, accompanied by James Matheson, he is Charlie “Grappler” Matthews.”

Axis: Can you believe that? He actually made Funyon announce in an old-school monotone!

The opening distortions of “All my Life” by the Foo Fighters fire up, and flames explode through the entryway as Leo Breslin emerges from the curtain.

Funyon begins to speak, remembers Matheson’s words, and resumes his monotonous voice.

“Approaching the ring, from Cleveland, Ohio, weighing in at 230 pounds, he is Leo Breslin.”

He slides into the ring and does some leaps, while flames shoot off from the turnbuckles. The lights come back on, and the music stops.

King: You know, let’s compare the entrances of these two. Breslin is WAY too flashy for my tastes. Meanwhile, the true warrior of the ring, Charlie Matthews, shows us how it SHOULD be done.

The ref is about to call for the bell, but Charlie Matthews tells the referee to check both men for foreign objects!

Axis: Are you serious?!

King: Look how honorable this man is! Even given the CHANCE to cheat, he REFUSES!

The ref pats both men down, and signals for the bell to begin the match!

*DING DING DING*

Charlie starts off the contest by offering his hand in sportsmanship, but Leo hears the audible “Noooooooooooo!” of the crowd, and, instinctively, slaps the hand away!

King: Can you believe that? Leo Breslin basically slapped the face of sportsmanship!

Axis: Oh, like he can’t see through Grappler’s act!

Shocked, Charlie attempts a quick clothesline on the nearly-6-foot Breslin, but Leo ducks, hoists the 300-pounder up…and DOWN IN A BODYSLAM!

Axis: Oh my God! Breslin just slammed a man 70 pounds heavier than him! What strength!

Matthews quickly begs off, pleading for a break from Breslin. Leo reluctantly agrees, and once Charlie reaches his feet, he signals for a collar-elbow tie-up. Leo obliges, and the two lock horns. Charlie gets the early advantage, wrapping his massive arm around the head of Breslin. He holds onto this headlock, and after about 15 seconds, turns it into a hammerlock. Breslin tries to fight out, so Matthews converts to a waistlock, picks Breslin off of his feet, and brings him down to his stomach in an amateur takedown!

Axis: Strong chain-wrestling skills shown here by Charlie Matthews.

King: Breslin’s motto is “Shut up and wrestle,” and it looks like Grappler is giving him just that!

Grappler grabs a front face lock, but can’t get too much of it, as Leo quickly escapes. Thrown off of his game, Charlie is slow to his feet, and as he reaches them, Leo charges, head down, tackling Matthews to the mat!

Axis: SPEAR! SPEAR ON THE BIG MAN! AND THERE’S A BRIDGE! LEO WITH A BRIDGE!

The referee slides into position, and with Leo hooking both of Charlie’s legs, begins the count.

ONE~!

TW-KICKOUT!

Axis: If there’s one thing Matthews needs to avoid, it’s the speed of Breslin. One quick cover and the match could be over.

King: Oh, posh. Matthews is a 60-minute man. A runt like Leo Breslin won’t stop him.

Matthews, not to be shown up by Breslin, staggers to his feet. Leo quickly peppers him with some right and left hands, and then hooks him in a front face lock, while putting Charlie’s arm over his head. Showcasing his strength, Breslin picks Matthews up, into the air, and then sends him CRASHING to the mat.

Axis: Beautifully executed vertical suplex by Breslin! I’m surprised at the strength Leo is showing against his much-larger opponent!

Breslin picks up Grappler, and Irish whips him into the ropes. Charlie comes charging back, but he ducks a Breslin clothesline, runs to the other ropes, comes back, and noticing Leo with his guard down, Matthews leaps into the air, and drives his knee into the face of Leo Breslin!

Axis: High knee by Charlie Matthews, a move that could finally get him on track in this match.

Instead of picking up Leo Breslin by the hair, Charlie actually extends his hand, which Breslin slowly takes, and lifts him to his feet!

King: I love this guy! He’s perfectly clean in the ring, and his sportsmanship is unparalleled!

Matthews continues to hold onto Breslin’s hand, however, and pulls his arm to him, nearly taking Leo’s head off with a short-arm clothesline! Tenaciously, Charlie STILL doesn’t let go of Leo’s hand, brings him to his feet again, and whips him off of the ropes. However, before their hands ungroup, Grappler PULLS Leo back to him, letting him run past so that his back is to him, and then Charlie grabs Breslin’s leg and back, lifts him into the air, and brings him down hard across his knee in an atomic drop! Breslin is stunned, but doesn’t fall to the mat, and once he turns around, Charlie catches him, sends him up, and down across his knee the other way in an INVERTED atomic drop! Seeing that the resilient Breslin STILL doesn’t fall to the mat, Matthews thinks quickly, and wraps his arms tightly around the back of Leo, squeezing with all of his might!

Axis: And now a BEARHUG! What an offensive flurry by Charlie Matthews!

King: You know, some people call this a ‘rest hold’, but when the man executing it has 23 inch arms, it can really squeeze the life out of you.

With James Matheson encouraging his entourage at ringside, the crowd, trying to get under Matthews’ and Matheson’s skin, begins a “Booooooooring!” chant!

King: WHAT?! How could they? These fans are completely selfish. They’re witnessing a 100% wrestling exhibition, and they’re calling it boring?! What did they expect, beach blanket bingo?

Noticing the chant, and never being one to disappoint the crowd, Matthews immediately, while holding Breslin in the bearhug, lifts him off of his feet, spins him around, and sends him CRASHING to the mat in a side belly-to-belly suplex.

Axis: It looks like Matthews is going all out, simply trying to get the fans to appreciate him!

Still sidetracked by lack of fan appreciation, Charlie quickly brings Leo to his feet, and hooks his arm over his head and sends him up for a hanging vertical suplex…but Breslin drops out of the hold, lands behind Matthews, and, quick as a cat, leaps into the air, grabs Charlie in a headlock, and brings him face-down to the canvas.

Axis: BEAUTIFUL Bulldog by Leo Breslin and the tide may be turning once again!

King: Bah! The tide can turn as much as it wants, but that won’t change the fact that Breslin is going to be pinned at the end of the match.

Trying to hold onto the advantage, Breslin halts Matthews, who is already to his feet again, with some right hand shots, and kicks to the midsection. Leo runs to the ropes, comes back, and extends his arm in a clothesline, and Matthews staggers, but stays on his feet! Leo charges once AGAIN to the ropes, and hits ANOTHER clothesline, and Charlie STILL doesn’t collapse! Finally, Leo runs to the ropes, slides under the legs of Grappler, reaches up, pulls his head back, and sends it DOWN to the mat in a Reverse DDT!

Axis: AMAZING! This may signal the end for the Grappler!

Breslin quickly hooks a leg on a pin attempt as the referee comes into position!

ONE!

TWO!

TH-KICKOUT~~!

Hoping to capitalize on the fallen Grappler, Breslin quickly scales the ropes, and reaches the top turnbuckle. Charlie Matthews reaches his feet, turns around, and Leo comes off with a double axe handle…but Grappler catches him in mid-air, by the throat, and sends him forcefully to the mat with a CHOKESLAM!

King: HAHA! Just when Breslin thinks he has things going his way, Grappler comes back and sends him to the mat, where he belongs!

With his first pin attempt in the match, Charlie grabs Breslin in a headlock AND hooks both legs:

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO~! KICKOUT!

Wondering what it must take to pin Leo Breslin, The Grappler grabs the left leg of Breslin, locks in a modified spinning toe hold, but once he has it locked in, he drops to his knees with the leg between them!

King: I think it’s time for Grappler to re-educate Breslin, old school style~!

Still holding onto the leg, Matthews brings Leo up to one leg, and immediately sends him down with a dragon-screw leg whip! Immediately after Breslin’s back hits the mat, Charlie clamps his legs around Leo’s left leg, and falls to the mat, in a leg grapevine! Leo screams in pain as he tries to fight the hold, and he seemingly does, as he is able to turn onto his stomach!

King: If there’s one thing you shouldn’t try to do, it’s reversing the world-class wrestling skills of Charlie Matthews.

However, with Breslin on his stomach, Grappler switches up the hold, locking in an Ankle Lock, with a heel hook! Leo is now desperately trying to make it to the ropes, but before he can, Matthews rises to his feet, and turns the ankle lock into a half-Boston crab! As Leo continues to use his strength to power closer to the ropes, Matthews spins around the leg, turns around, and latches in an STF!

Axis: Unbelievable chain wrestling skills by Charlie Matthews!

Breslin looks like he’s going to succumb to the pain, and James Matheson is going crazy playing cheerleader at ringside. However, summoning one last ounce of energy, Leo slowly slides on his stomach…Charlie is trying to fight it but can’t…

Axis: AND LEO BRESLIN MAKES IT TO THE ROPES! Do NOT count this man out yet!

Grappler immediately relinquishes the hold, but once Breslin reaches his feet, Matthews hoists him up onto his shoulders, and begins to spin around!

King: It’s the dreaded AIRPLANE SPIN! Only a man like Charlie Matthews could make that move what it is today.

Matthews quickly begins to get dizzy, though, and Leo takes advantage…from the Grappler’s shoulders, Breslin slides down his back, grabs his legs, and flips Charlie over into a sunset flip! The referee dashes into position:

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO~!!

James Matheson nearly has a heart attack at ringside, as he jumps up and down shouting encouragement to The Grappler. Breslin quickly grabs Matthews by the hand and whips him into the corner turnbuckle, no, Charlie reverses the whip, and Leo is sent crashing back-first into the buckle. Charlie musters all the speed he can and rushes to the corner looking for a splash, but Breslin moves out of the way! Grappler hits the turnbuckle sternum-first, turns around, and walks right into a sit-out spinebuster by Breslin!

Axis: SKY HIGH! SKY HIGH! This could be the opportunity that Breslin needs!

King: When will you just shut up and realize that Matthews already has this match won?

Leo stands and waits in a striking position, and once Charlie comes to his feet, Breslin kicks him in the midsection, and sets him up for the Razor’s Edge! He hoists Grappler up into the crucifix position, but once he lifts him, his leg, which was worked on earlier, gives out, and he drops Grappler as he falls to the mat!

King: HAHA! What did I tell you, Axis? That Breslin stands no chance, and now would be the PERFECT opportunity to finish off this loser!

Grappler turns around and picks Leo up by the hand. He plants a hard kick to the midsection, and places Leo’s head between his legs. He raises his hands above his head to signal for the most dreaded finisher in the SJL today.

King: Can you feel it, Axis? It’s time for the POWERBOMB, BAYBEE~!

In one fluid motion, Charlie Matthews locks his hands around the midsection of Breslin, hoists him up into the air and with all of his might, throws Breslin back-first onto the canvas with the POWERBOMB!! The referee drops into position as Grappler makes a valiant cover on Leo Breslin!

ONE!!

TWO!!!!

THREE~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*DING DING DING*

Funyon, once again in monotone: “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, Charlie “Grappler” Matthews”

King: YES! YES! YES! Grappler proved that he is THE BEST addition to the SJL roster tonight! What a man, what a wrestler!

James Matheson quickly scurries into the ring, and begins jumping up and down, hugging and patting Charlie Matthews. However, noticing Leo down on the canvas, James tells Charlie to look and pose at the fans. Charlie obliges, and with his back turned, Matheson begins laying in boots to Leo!

Axis: WHAT THE-?! I thought that snake abided to the no-cheating rule of Charlie Matthews!

King: I guess that’s only when Matthews knows what’s goin’ on! HAHA~!

Charlie turns to Matheson, who quickly stops stomping Leo and begins clapping for him. He tells Charlie to pose for the other side of the arena, and he once again obliges.

Axis: C’mon Charlie, turn around! See what that no-good manager of yours is doing!

Matheson once again lays in some boots, but this time, Breslin grabs the foot of Matheson in mid-stomp, and leg-whips it down to the canvas! Leo begins to waylay James with a flurry of punches, and Grappler notices this, and pulls James quickly out of the ring!

Axis: That’s what he gets for trying to cheap shot Breslin after an excellent effort.

King: The best part is Charlie thinks Breslin did that unprovoked! That can only mean one thing- a Grappler that is more pissed off and adrenaline-fueled than ever!

With James on his shoulder, Grappler turns around and points to Breslin, who’s standing in the ring. He mouths “HANDS OFF!” as Breslin simply shakes his head in disgust.

April 21, 2003

Wrath returns from commercials following the Junior League debuts of Charlie Matthews and Leo Breslin, and the still pumped up Indianapolis fans go up in cheers once again as “Raise Up” by Saliva kicks up, several blasts of red pyro firing up all across the stage. A moment later Syndicate walks through the sparks and smoke, greeted by a good amount of cheers as he heads down the ramp.

Axis: “Welcome back to Wrath fans, and we’re wasting no time in getting back into the action, Syndicate taking on the returning fan favourite David Blazenwing.”

King: “At least Blazenwing looks to have dumped the superhero nonsense, there’s enough retards around this joint without a wannabe-superhero adding to it.”

Axis: “Well this should be quite a good contest, you know David Blazenwing is going to be hyped up in his return from injury several months ago, and both men will be eager to become the #1 Contender to the Television Title.”

Syndicate quickly slides into the ring as Funyon starts on the introductions.

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is set for one-fall, and is for the #1 Contendership to the SJL Television Title. Entering first weighing 237 pounds from Portland, Oregon, SYNDICATE!!!”

Syndicate moves to the ropes and does a few final stretches, preparing himself for the match as his music fades. Suddenly the lights in the arena go out, a big roar resonating from the crowd as “It’s Time to feel the Full Effect!” booms over the speakers, Motorhead’s “The Game” kicking into action as David Blazenwing steps out onto the stage to a huge pop, the crowd excited to see David’s in-ring return to the SJL.

Axis: “Listen to the crowd, you can tell they’re very happy to have David Blazenwing back in action.”

David tosses his hands into the Blazenwing pose at the top of the stage, before dropping them, igniting the stage in a huge shower of pyro, the lights turning back on as Blazenwing heads to the ring.

Funyon: “And now making his way to the ring, weighing in at 300 pounds from Oak Creek, Wisconsin, making his return to the SJL, DAVID BLAZENWING!!!”

Another loud cheer goes up as David hits the ring, mounting the nearest turnbuckle and drawing yet more cheers from the rapturous Indiana fans. David repeats this on the three remaining turnbuckles, inciting cheers each time as Syndicate keeps his distance, focusing on his opponent and the match at hand.

King: “Another crowd whore, goody.”

Axis: “Quiet you. Well both men are out here now, all that’s left is for Kivell to call for the bell and we can get underway.”

Referee Matthew Kivell signals to the timekeepers table to start the match, and the bell rings to the cheers of the crowd.

DING DING DING!

Almost immediately Blazenwing dashes towards Syndicate, catching the rookie off guard as David lays into him with a barrage of punches, each powerful shot rocking Syndicate back onto the ropes! With Syndicate reeling David takes him by the arm and swiftly whips him across the ring, Syndicate hitting the ropes and coming back as David runs forward and extends his arm for a clothesline! But just before the impact Syndicate has the awareness to duck underneath, both men continuing onto the opposite ropes. Syndicate and Blazenwing both rebound off the ropes and come back towards each other, and it’s David Blazenwing that takes advantage first, leaping up and taking Syndicate down with a Lou Thesz Press! The crowd goes up in unison as Blazenwing wails away on Syndicate with punch after punch, pummelling Syndicate relentlessly before hopping back to his feet, the crowd right behind the returned superstar.

Axis: “Blazenwing is a house of fire, the momentum is right behind him with that big Lou Thesz Press.”

King: “Bah. I’m sure he just got lucky. If he were facing someone other than a bum like Syndicate he’d have lost by now.”

Syndicate gets back to his feet, already wobbly, but he has no time for rest as Blazenwing is eager to keep up the pace, bouncing off the ropes and coming at Syndicate from behind, catching him by the back of the head and vaulting forward, slamming Syndicate face-first into the canvas with a bulldog! David rolls Syndicate onto his back and hooks the far leg for an early pin attempt, Kivell making the count.

ONE…

TWO…

TH… No, Syndicate gets his shoulder up without too much difficulty.

Axis: “Blazenwing certainly making the start he would have wanted, it’s been all David Blazenwing so far in this one.”

Blazenwing is quickly up, bringing Syndicate up and sending him hard into the nearest turnbuckles, Syndicate going chest-first into the hard pads before stumbling back, Blazenwing taking the opportunity to lock on a rear waistlock, setting for a German Suplex! Before David can deliver the move Syndicate fights back, jarring the skull of Blazenwing with a stiff back elbow, and following it with another, the elbow shots stunning David enough for Syndicate to be able to escape his grasp. As David stumbles back Syndicate looks to make the most of the opportunity, taking Blazenwing by the arm and going to whip him to the ropes, only for David to hold onto Syndicate’s arm and reverse the whip. David doesn’t let go though, instead pulling Syndicate back towards him, catching him around the waist and snapping Syndicate up and over, tossing Syndicate back to the mat with an overhead release Belly to Belly Suplex! A cheer goes up as Syndicate splats to the mat, David dropping in top for the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THR… No, Syndicate gets his shoulder up before the three count.

King: “Well, I guess Blazenwing hasn’t just been sitting on the couch eating chicken while he’s been gone, he doesn’t seem to be suffering from any ring rust so far, and that spells trouble for Mr. Syndicate, the biggest move he’s gotten in so far is a back elbow, Blaznwing is all over him like a cheap suit on Funyon.”

Blazenwing wrenches Syndicate’s arm as he pulls him back to a vertical base, before letting go and drilling Syndicate in the head with a hard left hook, Syndicate barely keeping his feet as Blazenwing follows with a right jab, and then another, the crowd cheering with each blow. David looks for the knockout shot, revving up a big uppercut punch, but Syndicate, reacting pretty much on instinct, manages to step back and dodge the uppercut, hooking David’s arm with his own and pulling him down in a surprise backslide, Syndicate getting a pin attempt out of nowhere!

ONE…

TWO…

THRE… NO! Blazenwing just gets his shoulder up in the nick of time.

Axis: “Syndicate nearly stole the match right then and there with the backslide, despite being on the receiving end of all the punishment so far it doesn’t look like he’s done yet.”

Both men roll to their feet as fast as they can following the backslide, and it’s Blazenwing that’s up a fraction of a second quicker, looking to regain the advantage with a quick clothesline. Syndicate sees it and ducks underneath though, and as David turns back around Syndicate catches him with a kick to the midsection, doubling him over. From there Syndicate looks to finally build some momentum in the match, throwing David’s arm over his head and hooking him for a suplex, Syndicate stalling for just a second before snapping back, slamming Blazenwing back-first on the mat with a Snap Suplex, drawing a good cheer for Syndicate’s first real piece of offence in the match. Syndicate isn’t done though, keeping his hold on David as he gets back to his feet, setting himself before snapping Blazenwing over again with a second Snap Suplex! The crowd counts along with the consecutive moves, another cheer going up as Syndicate once again keeps hold of Blazenwing, climbing to his feet again and delivering a third successive Snap Suplex! This time Syndicate releases his hold and rolls back on top of David, the crowd counting along with Kivell’s count.

ONE…

TWO…

THR… NO, Blazenwing is still fresh enough to kick out despite being suplexed three times straight.”

King: “Well it took him long enough, but Syndicate finally gets a move in on the Full Effect. If he ever wants to get win number two of his JL career he better have more than that though.”

For the first time in the match Syndicate is in control, and he looks to capitalise, bringing Blazenwing to his feet and paying David back for the punches he’s delivered so far, Syndicate rocking David’s head back as he lays in with a flurry of hard right and left hands. With David sufficiently dazed Syndicate sends him to the ropes, and as Blazenwing comes back Syndicate plants his feet, setting himself to press David up into the air, and he does just that, getting ready to drop Blazenwing down into the samoan drop portion of the Broken Arrow! A cheer goes up as Syndicate gets David over his head, but Blazenwing isn’t about to go down without a fight, and he manages to slip out of Syndicate’s grasp and land on his feet behind him! Syndicate uickly turns to try and recover, be in doing so he walks right into Blazenwing’s grasp, David picking him and dumping him to the mat with a quick scoop slam. Blazenwing isn’t satisfied there though, quickly moving to the ropes and bouncing off, coming back and dropping a knee right to the temple of the downed Syndicate, dropping on top of him for the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THR… No, again Syndicate his able to kick out, getting his shoulder off the mat in time.

Axis: “It looked as though Syndicate might be on top of this match there for a while, but a mistake from the rookie in allowing David to avoid the Broken Arrow gave Blazenwing just the opportunity he needed, The Full Effect putting Syndicate down once more. So far this has been a very impressive return from David Blazenwing, but you know he won’t be satisfied until he gets the pinfall.”

Blazenwing gets back to his feet, leaving Syndicate to get up under his own power, allowing him to expend his own energy as he slowly pulls himself up, but David stops him halfway, pulling him into a standing headscissors, the crowd unanimously getting to their feet as David sets Syndicate in position for a Pedigree, the Blazecution!

King: “Looks like it’s goodnight Irene for Syndicate, his head about to be driven through the canvas courtesy of the Blazecution, his losing streak’s about to increase to three.”

He crowd goes wild as Blazenwing goes for the double underhook, but Syndicate desperately fights it, knowing unless he can escape it’s all over. Blazenwing can’t quite get Syndicate’s arms into the double underhook, but he quickly comes up with a different idea, releasing Syndicate’s arms and putting them around his waist. Before Syndicate has a chance to fight that Blazenwing uses his strength to power Syndicate up into the air, holding him on his shoulders before slamming Syndicate to the mat in a devastating Powerbomb! Syndicate bounces off the mat before flopping back down dead, the crowd going crazy as they count along with Kivell as he makes the count.

ONE…

TWO…

THRE… NOOO! Syndicate somehow finds the strength to barely get his shoulder up, Kivell’s hand coming oh-so-close to slapping the mat a decisive third time.

Axis: “A smart move from The Full Effect almost gets him the win! Syndicate was fighting off his finisher the Blazecution, so he switched to a powerbomb and nearly put Syndicate down for the three.”

David gives a quick glance to the referee, unhappy that he didn’t get the pin, but he quickly puts it out of his mind and gets back to his feet, reaching down and dragging up the dead weight of Syndicate, setting him for a vertical suplex. Blazenwing pauses for a second, before lifting Syndicate up, but just before he’s vertical Syndicate manages to shift his weight and drop back to earth next to Blazenwing, and before David can react Syndicate grabs him for a Russian Leg Sweep, but instead of falling back he vaults forward, driving Blazenwing face first into the canvas with a Forward Russian Leg Sweep! Blazenwing is down, but Syndicate is down as well, still feeling the effects of the Powerbomb, unable to make a cover.

King: “With how David Blazenwing has been in control most of the match Syndicate cannot afford to be down like this, he needs to go for the cover any chance he can.”

With the crowd divided between cheering for both men, Syndicate slowly turns over, crawling across towards David Blazenwing and draping an arm across for the cover!

ONE…

TWO…

THREE… NOOO! Blazenwing finds the energy to kick out, the delay in Syndicate’s cover certainly helping David survive the pin attempt.

Axis: “A big move from Syndicate, but Blazenwing kicks out once more. Both men are throwing everything they have at each other, neither man wants to let a shot at the Television Title slip out of their grasp.”

The fans cheer both men on as Syndicate pushed himself up on his hands and knees, tired and feeling the pain from the match so far, but he has to put that out of his mind as he gets to his feet, and looking to get another big move in on Blazenwing before he can recover he grabs David by the hair and yanks him up, placing him in a standing headscissors, and signalling to the crowd for his signature move, the Blackout!

Axis: “The Forward Russian Leg Sweep didn’t finish of Blazenwing, but Syndicate’s Powerbomb to Facebuster maneuver the Blackout could do just that!”

Syndicate sets himself to lift the heavier Blazenwing off his feet, but before he can lazenwing grabs him by the legs and tips him up with a double leg take down, David holding onto Syndicate’s leg and swiftly turning him over, locking on an Anklelock from nowhere! The crowd goes bonkers as Syndicate screams out in pain, David Blazenwing twisting Syndicate’s ankle as hard as he can, the crowd noise is off the charts as Syndicate raises his hand, looking as though he’ll tap out!

King: “Another Syndicate mistake in allowing David to avoid the Blackout, Blazenwing seizing the advantage and getting a submission hold in with the Anklelock, Syndicate is in a world of trouble now.”

The pain is searing through Syndicate’s body as he tries to fight the pain, desperately crawling for the ropes inch by inch. The fans are going crazy as Blazenwing fights to make Syndicate tap, but Syndicate reaches out with all his might, and just manages to latch onto the lower rope, Kivell calling for Blazenwing to release the hold.

Axis: “Looks like there’s life in Syndicate yet, reaching the ropes, but that Anklelock took a lot out of him, he’s not out of the woods yet, Blazenwing can smell victory.”

Syndicate uses the ropes to help himself up in the corner, limping slightly as he turns around, but Blazenwing is right there, immediately drilling Syndicate with a flurry of hard kicks to the body, Syndicate slumping back into the turnbuckles as the fans cheer with each powerful kick. David takes Syndicate by the arm and sends him across the ring with an irish whip, Syndicate impacting into the opposite turnbuckles and stumbling out as Blazenwing charges, looking to put the nail in Syndicate’s coffin as he lifts his leg up for a Running Big Boot! The fans cheer as David’s boot nears Syndicate’s face, but at the last possible second Syndicate just manages to dodge to the side, Blazenwing missing Syndicate by the slimmest of margins. Blazenwing stops and turns back to run back towards Sydicate, but as he does Syndicate ducks down and lifts David up into a Fireman’s Carry! The crowd cheers as Syndicate looks to swing Blazenwing out into a facebuster, but before Syndicate’s knee can impact with Blazenwing’s face David lands on his feet in front of Syndicate, immediately hitting him with a kick to the stomach, doubling him over as Blazenwing hooks Syndicate’s arms in a double underhook!

Axis: “The Full Effect going for the Blazecution! Syndicate avoided it once, but Blazenwing has it set again!”

This time David Blazenwing doesn’t give Syndicate the opportunity to escape, jumping up and driving Syndicate face first into the mat with the BLAZECUTION! A HUGE roar goes up from the crowd as Syndicate crumples to the mat dead, David not wasting a second as he turns him over and hooks the far leg just to be sure, the crowd chanting along with Matthew Kivell’s pin count.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!!!

DING DING DING!

The fans go completely bonkers as Kivell counts the three, Kivell reaching down and raising the arm of the new #1 Contender to the SJL Television Title.

Funyon: “Your winner by pinfall, DAVID BLAZENWING!!!”

Axis: “Blazenwing pulls it out in his return. So much for any ring rust, The Full Effect gets the win in impressive fashion, and gets a shot at his first piece of SJL gold next show. Syndicate gave it his all though, you know it won’t be long before he’s in the winner’s circle himself.”

King: “Well anyway, next up we’ve got John Duran and Terry Wayne squaring off for the Television Title. Tune in, you get to hear more of my wonderful and insightful commentary, you don’t want to miss that.”

April 21, 2003

In the locker room before Wrath, we see “The Red Rage” Viktor Tarakanov taping up his wrists, in preparation for his match. He begins to speak, not looking at the camera, focused on his tape.

“I am ‘The Red Rage’.” he begins in a low, heavily accented voice. “I was once best shoot fighter in all of Russia before coming to America. Here I was treated like garbage. America is often spoken of as land of ‘milk and honey’. I’ve seen none of either. I despise your nation. Some of my people have come to America in search of opportunities, they said for chances that the Motherland could not give them. This I have always taken in stride.”

He suddenly rips his tape and fastens it down, finished with that wrist and starting with the other. “I was raised to believe that the Soviet government was superior to all others. I began to hear stories from outsiders in my town on how the America was becoming the most powerful nation in existence. I passed these off as mere rumors and not worth my time. When I finally did arrive in this country, albeit under less than ideal circumstances, I was curious to see what parts of the rumors were true. Only ONE part I found true! The complete separation of the classes, rich is very rich and poor is VERY poor! This is what Communism sought to prevent.

“Father Lenin and Father Stalin, they sought to eliminate this hardship and did so successfully in Mother Russia. There, no one is too wealthy; the money that the government has is distributed well and people are content. My land had a problem and fixed it, while your country... the most powerful nation in the world... continues to ignore the problem. This is why Communism is superior to all. And so am I.”

Tarakanov rips his other piece of wrist tape and fastens it down. He now stares intently into the camera. “Last week, I dominated Mr. John Duran and left him lying with a whimper. The man has determination to win, but not the stamina to keep up with me. That is his weakness. Tonight I am to face Kaine for number one contendership to European title. This match I will win. The young boy hasn’t the ability to withstand one punch from me, and one punch is only the beginning. He is sharp and can avoid being hit by even the strongest of competitors. This I know. But for how long will you be able to evade me Kaine? For once you are struck down by ‘The Red Rage’, I will BREAK YOU!!”

Viktor slams his fist into his open hand and then springs to his feet and leaves the locker room.

*Fade*

April 21, 2003

King: “This next match will prove that Déjà vu does indeed exist, besides the comedy tag team in the SWF.”

Axis: “That’s right, King. Tonight, two men who know each other quite well will step in the ring one more time for SJL Television gold. The challenger, Terry Wayne, has been on a slump as of late and is also fighting tonight after a match with Syndicate which ended with both men bloody and beaten. Wayne has been given time to recover, but the question must be asked: Is ‘The Dark Rebel’ going to be 100% for his match tonight?”

King: “Enough talk about Terry, let’s talk about the real man in this competition tonight! John Duran is coming off a loss on Metal to the newcomer Viktor Tarakanov, fortunately in a non-title bout. However, my sources tell me—“

Axis: “Your sources? You mean Luis, the SJL janitor?”

King: “Do you mind, you Aussie lowlife? My sources tell me that Duran is more than focused on this match, which certainly can’t be said for Terry Wayne after Syndicate beat the crap out of him with a chair.”

Axis: “So you’re picking John Duran to win this bout?”

King: “Why not? He’s obviously the better man.”

Axis: “Duran has trouble defeating Wayne, though!”

King: “Today is a new day for John Duran.”

Axis: “Enough, let’s go to the ring, where Funyon is ready for the introductions.”

The camera fades to Funyon, who is standing in the ring. He takes a big breath before beginning the introductions.

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is for the SJL TEEEEEEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TITLEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Almost immediately, “Hurt” by Johnny Cash hits the loudspeakers, the grainy black-and-white video of the snake eating the rabbit playing behind Terry Wayne as he makes his entrance into the Conseco Fieldhouse, the crowd mostly cheering for him. “The Dark Rebel” calmly walks down the ramp, acknowledging those fans cheering for him as he makes his way down towards the ring.

Funyon: “Introducing first, the challenger, from Norfolk, Virginia weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds, he is “The Dark Rebel”...TERRY WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYNE!”

Terry continues down towards the ring, some of the crowd patting the 28-year-old former SJL Television champion for support as Wayne walks around to the steel steps and walks up to the apron, sliding between the ropes and entering the ring. Almost as soon as Terry’s boots hit the mat, “Sinner” by Drowning Pool cues up, blaring over the sound system, the crowd dealing out a considerable amount of boos towards John Duran as he makes his entrance. Duran has that smug half-grin on his face as he begins his walk towards the ring.

Funyon: “And his opponent, weighing in at two hundred and sixty five pounds, from Champaign, Illinois…he is the SJL TEEEEEEEE-VEEEEEEE CHAMPION…JOHN DURANNNNNNNNNNNNN!”

Duran raises his arms, the TV title in his right hand, dangling down, almost already celebrating a victory. The crowd continues to boo as Duran walks down towards the ring. As Duran nears the ring apron, he threatens a fan in the front row who is taunting him--which just generates more boos from the capacity crowd—before turning back towards the ring and entering it, stepping up onto the apron and going through the ropes, glaring at Terry Wayne in utter contempt before turning around to the crowd and showboating, like usual. However, as Duran turns around, he is met by a right hand from Terry Wayne, the Television Title falling out of John’s hand as Terry begins the match early. Referee Eddy Long grabs the belt from the mat and calls for the bell.

*DING DING DING*

Terry hits John with another right hand, sending Duran back another step or two, before Terry grabs John’s arm and sends the champ into the ropes. On the way back, Terry gives Duran a swift kick to the gut, and puts John in a standing headscissors as Terry signals for the Fatal Flaw! The crowd is in a mix of surprise and joy as Terry wraps his arms around John’s waist and tries to lift the champ up, but John somehow manages to squirm his way out of Terry’s grasp, stumbling back, an incredulous and somewhat-angered look on his face as Terry stares him down as well.

Axis: “Certainly an interesting start to this match, King. Terry Wayne caught Duran off guard and tried to go for the finish right then and there!”

King: “Ah, but Duran is FAR too smart to be outsmarted that easily. Wayne’s going to have to bring Duran off his game to beat him, and let me assure you, John Duran is on his game!”

Axis: “The same can be said for Terry Wayne, no?”

King: “It could be, but why talk about a silly challenger like Terry Wayne? Sellout.”

Duran charges at Terry, trying to overpower him, but Terry side-steps the charge, Duran having to hit the brakes and turn around to keep him from going to the outside in a hurry. Terry comes back at John and tries a clothesline, but Duran is the one who dodges this time, going behind Terry and locking Wayne up in a Full Nelson! The crowd’s jubilation quickly turns to dread, as John goes to lift his challenger up…but Terry blocks it! Terry wriggles a hand free and spins around; kicking the champ in his gut once again, this time grabbing Duran’s head and swinging around, bringing Duran down to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker as the crowd cheers Terry on! However, Duran quickly gets back to his feet and Terry and John stare each other down, sizing each other up.

Axis: “Both men went for the kill early, but both attempts ended up on the wayside, as we’re back to square one in this match!”

Terry and John lock horns in the center of the ring, and it is John who wins this battle, quickly raking Terry in the eyes, temporarily blinding “The Dark Rebel.” Duran then gives Wayne a right hand which sends Terry reeling, followed up with a nasty headbutt that sends Terry back into the corner. John grabs Terry by his arm and whips him to the opposite turnbuckle. As Terry stumbles out from the force of hitting the turnbuckles, Duran charges at Wayne, spearing Terry and tackling him back towards the turnbuckle. Terry’s neck snaps back from the force of the move, and even some crowd members are impressed, letting out noises of awe.

Axis: “Nothing new there from Duran, but every time you see that move, you know it has got to be hurting the victim of that move, and it may even have an effect on the attacker.”

King: “When you’re as skilled as John Duran, being the attacker has no disadvantages when you are chasing down an enemy.”

Axis: “I think you’re underestimating Terry Wayne here, King.”

King: “And I think you’re an Aussie bastard, so I think that we are quite even there.”

Terry is back to his feet, and spins around, almost into a clothesline from the champ. However, that bullet is avoided, and when John turns around, he gets a shot to the throat which sends him back a tad. Terry takes advantage of this, putting John in a headlock and then punching John on the crowd of the head, sending John to the mat.

Terry brings John to his feet, bringing Duran up by his jet-black hair. Terry boots John in the gut and puts John in a standing headscissors, calling for the Fatal Flaw and bringing the fans to their feet!

Axis: “This is it!”

Terry wraps his arms around John’s waist and goes to pick him up, but John suddenly snaps to life, hitting a knee and backing away, breaking the standing headscissors and delivering a crushing uppercut to the groin of the challenger, sending Terry kneeling over, Eddy Long not even close to noticing it.

Axis: “WHAT?!”

John moves behind Terry, locking Terry’s arms in a Full Nelson, the crowd’s once-cheers now turning to loud boos. John wastes no time and brings Wayne up and down, dropping Terry like a bad habit with a Full Nelson bomb. The crowd’s boos sustain as Duran leans back, putting Terry Wayne in a body scissors while keeping that Full Nelson locked on.

King: “That’s it, folks! Game over for Terry Wayne!”

Wayne, having seen the Break Point before, immediately tries to find a way out of it, and John, almost-instinctively, tightens the hold, pulling back hard on Terry’s arms and trying to crush the challenger’s ribs with his legs. Eddy Long has been checking on Terry ever since the Break Point has been applied, and asks him if he wants to quit. Terry doesn’t respond at first. John locks it on as tight as possible, and Eddy asks once again to Terry, who is wincing in obvious pain. This time Terry pauses, but after the pause comes a nod of his head, as Eddy Long turns around, calling for the bell.

*DING DING DING*

The crowd most certainly does not like the outcome of this match, booing the defending champ uproariously. However, Duran just simply ignores it, holding up his arms in victory as Eddy Long gets the TV belt and hands it over to Duran. John holds it up, celebrating and taunting the fans, showboating in front of them, the crowd letting John know how they feel as Duran leaves the ring and moves up the aisle.

Axis: “So, it took a low blow to take care of Terry Wayne, someone who, let’s face it, is no match for the physical caliber of John Duran.”

King: “Does it matter? What’s done is done, now let’s move on, we’ve got a great card ahead of us, and that’s no lie. There’s more great victories to come here tonight on Wrath.”

April 21, 2003

“Look for these and more great SJL products from Rawknight enterprises coming soon!”

As the commercial fades away we see Axis and The Suicide King sitting amiably at the announcing table. With his feet on the table it appears that King has gotten quite comfortable in his seat and has dozed off from the noisy world around him. Noticing the red light on the camera staring them in the face, Axis puts down his GBA and his game of FPW and nudges King abruptly in the side. King immediately springs to life and jumps back into a previous story or something of the sort.

King: Booby trap... Uuugghh, how long was I out for?

Axis: Oh around three and a half minutes. Anyways ladies and gentlemen, up next we’ve got us a terrific bout. We’ve got “The Untouchable” Kaine taking on “The Red Rage” Viktor Tarakanov for the number one contendership to the European title. Even more surprising, this being only Tarakanov’s second SJL match, the Creative Control has apparently thought enough of him to stick him above the TV title. But he won’t get by that easily; he’ll have to face Kaine first.

King: Either of these men has a good chance of winning this match. And with the falls count anywhere stip, this should be even more interesting. Take it away oh circular baked snack chip!

As Funyon steps in the ring, he receives a small pop from his strange cult of fans, wearing old tuxedos and holding a sign that says “Funyon’s Army”. Never breaking his professionalism, Funyon raises the mic to his face and lets loose his silky baritone voice. “Ladies and gentlemen... this bout is scheduled for one fall and is conducted under falls count anywhere rules and it is for the number one contendership to the SJL European championship. Introducing first... he weighs in at two hundred and eighty pounds… he hails from Astrakhan, Russia… he is ‘The Red Rage’ Viktor TARAKAAANOOOV!!”

The loud opening chord of the “Soviet National Anthem” strikes up and an enormous red pyro erupts on the stage. Viktor Tarakanov emerges from the backstage area with a cold look on his face. As soon as the crowd recognizes the entrance they immediately shower the man in boos, more heated than the usual boos administered to wrestlers out of favor with the crowd. This hatred runs a tad deeper, more focused. Tarakanov doesn’t seem to even recognize the crowd’s reaction as he continues his focused walk to the ring, grasping his wrist to see how tight the tape on his wrist and hands is.

Axis: Whoa… the fans seem to have taken an almost immediate dislike for Viktor Tarakanov.

King: Well, bad things happen to you when you spit on the American flag.

As Viktor walks to the ring steps he is given the ultimate disrespect and is spat upon by some of the more close by fans. Without so much as a thought, Tarakanov whirls around and charges to the barricade, getting right in the face of those fans who dared to hurl their saliva on “The Red Rage”. He says nothing but stares the highly intimidated fans in the eye longer than could be construed as comfortable. Quickly he turns around, calms himself, and walks up the ring steps slowly, wiping off his feet before entering the ring. Funyon begins to speak again as Viktor’s music fades but is cut off by a loud hissing noise on the SmarkTron.

King: What the hell?

The static on the big screen fades into a shot of Kaine in a darkened area backstage. His ever-present cocky grin causes the fans to boo the image on the screen. “Hello Viktor!” he says, allowing his proud German accent to shine through. “I know this type of match is not your style, and I know very well that you could not handle me in such a match. I will give you a small advantage. Seeing as the match is under falls count anywhere rules, we should take advantage of them. I am backstage somewhere, and you will come to find me. You may find whatever weapon or piece of furniture you like to attack me with on the way. There you are, you have your instructions, I will see you soon.”

Kaine’s natural aptitude to piss people off seems to be working as not only do the fans boo, but Viktor Tarakanov doesn’t seem to be too pleased by his opponent’s lack of respect. This is made clear as the man slowly bails out of the ring and starts to walk up the entrance ramp. A highly confused timekeeper just rings the bell to signify the start of the match.

DING!! DING!! DING!!

Axis: Well, it seems as though we’re gonna have us somewhat of a hide-and-seek match.

King: Odd... why exactly did Kaine challenge Tarakanov to find him backstage?

Axis: It could be the huge size difference between the men that intimidated Kaine into finding out another method of defeating the big Russian.

Viktor is still being booed, albeit lightly now, as he gets to the top of the ramp, a referee scurrying behind him. Viktor doesn’t seem to be too pleased with the turn of events, as he throws back the curtain with authority. He walks out into the open of the backstage area and looks carefully around himself. Finished looking in this small area, Viktor walks carefully around the corner to his right and begins walking down a long hallway, lined with many doors. He walks slowly by, listening in every door, hoping perhaps to hear Kaine talking or to hear someone talking about Kaine.

After passing about two doors on either side, Viktor is alerted. He hears something of apparent importance emanating from the door to his left. Stopping and listening, Viktor stands with his ear pressed against the door. Finally feels like he has enough information and kicks the door open with a loud bang. Tarakanov charges into the room, but stops in the middle of it, jerking his head sideways and looking at the TV. There is no Kaine here, simply a television left on with the popular TV show “Hogan’s Heroes” playing. Viktor almost lets out a chuckle but stops himself, not wanting to lose his focus.

King (imitating Colonel Klink): HOOOGAAAN!!

Axis (imitating Hulk Hogan): What’cha gonna do brother?

King: Forget it... damn foreigners...

Tarakanov leaves the room quickly and continues his walk down the hall. After a ways of walking, he spies a drinking fountain and decides to refresh himself. Above the fountain there are several papers fixed to a bulletin board, including a printed off copy of the Wrath card to keep forgetful wrestlers notified. As Viktor raises his head from getting a drink, he notices a recently applied piece of paper that reads: “Viktor, Do not give up hope. You’re getting closer to me. Kaine”. The kind message, written in such elaborate handwriting is crumpled in the fist of “The Red Rage” as he walks down the rest of the hall, a bit more perturbed than before.

As he reaches the end of the hall, he approaches the snack room and prepares to pass it until he hears some banging inside. Wary of what may lurk inside, Tarakanov stops and tries to look in the window, but the wavy glass discourages a clear view inside. Excited to finally get to fight with Kaine, Viktor slams the door open and steps inside with his fists drawn. He quickly withdraws his attack position as he sees that it is not Kaine inside, it is Tryst reaching inside the snack machine trying to get a half-fallen bag of Doritos lodged inside. He looks up at Tarakanov with half a smile and says “Infernal machine stole my snack chips! Out fiend!” Now screaming at the vending machine to give him back his pre-match nourishment, Tryst begins to shoulder-block the machine.

Axis: Oh that nutty Tryst! Lets hope he gets his chips before his match tonight with Crow.

King: Yeah, he’s gonna want to keep everything he can inside of him tonight. Crow is notorious for making folks paint the mat red.

Viktor is a bit confused at what he just saw but decides to just leave the room quietly. Now headed towards the locker room area, Viktor walks past the individual locker rooms of some of the bigger named stars: Sean Atlas, Dace Night, Va’aiga, Christian Blackwell, Tryst, and Crow. There is also a room marked “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins, but it is written on a piece of masking tape above the sign that says “MEN’S ROOM”. Finally reaching the general locker room, Tarakanov enters and finds the room to be completely dark. Extremely cautious he searches along the wall, trying to find a light switch of some sort but quickly remembers that this locker room has a chain pull light.

Heading cautiously to the middle of the room, in pitch darkness, Tarakanov strikes his shin on a bench and grunts in pain, but suddenly hears a noise on the other side of the locker room. Snapped to attention, Tarakanov swings his arms around and tries to hit whoever or whatever is in the room with him, but attacks nothing but air. With a grunt and a thud, someone strikes Tarakanov across the back with something heavy. He collapses to one knee as his assailant drops the weapon with a familiar clang and runs off. With a shrug, Viktor gets back up and pulls the light chain, filling the room with a white glow.

Axis: Tarakanov attacked with a steel chair in the locker room, still in search of Kaine.

King: Well, he may have just found him, Axis. That very well could have been Kaine who delivered the hit and run attack.

Axis: Yes, it very well could have been. Kaine is a very deceptive opponent.

Scowling now, the rage burning inside of him, Viktor Tarakanov turns around and looks at what hit him. As was expected, he was struck with a steel chair. He picks up the metal seating device and examines it. As he turns it over, he notices a note taped to the backrest, and rips it off to read it. “Even closer now, Viktor. Don’t give up now. Just a little further.” Kaine’s audacity infuriates the big Russian and causes him to whip the steel chair into the lockers and storm out the door, leaving the note a crumpled mass on the floor. Viktor walks back by the snack room but ignores the door broken off its hinges and the glass of the vending machine strewn about whilst the triumphant Tryst enjoys his snack.

Axis: So it WAS Kaine that attacked Tarakanov! Viktor is mad, and that doesn’t bode well for Kaine.

King: I wouldn’t imagine that anyone except the person set to fight Tarakanov would care to attack him.

Marching down the hall, a scowl locked on his face, Viktor pushes past employees of the arena that crowd the narrow hallways. His speedy stride is halted suddenly by workers doing some repair work on the Fieldhouse ceiling. There is a large scaffold in the way of the rest of the hallway and one of the hard-hatted men yells down to Viktor. “Hey buddy! You Tarakanov?” The big Russian nods swiftly. “Here, some little guy ran by here and told me to give this to you.” The construction worker hands Viktor a note with Kaine’s familiar handwriting on it and goes back to work. It reads “Taking a break so soon? Now is no time for a nap. You’re so close!”

Viktor frowns and turns away in a huff. He walks back down the hallway, the exact way he came and goes to the very end of the hallway and takes a right, down a shorter stretch of hall until he gets to a door that has a note on it. Tarakanov steps forward and reads the note, “I have tired of this little game, you are no fun to play with. Instead I say we settle this like men. Grab a weapon from the clutter in the storage room to your left and meet me outside in the parking lot. I can almost smell that European gold, can you?” Viktor chuckles softly at the note, pleased that Kaine has found the fortitude to actually fight.

King: Finally! We get to see some action!

Axis: I wouldn’t be so sure about that just yet, King. If you were in Kaine’s shoes, would you go and fight Tarakanov with a weapon in the middle of a parking lot?

King: Kaine’s a small guy, I doubt I could even fit into his shoes.

Viktor decides to take Kaine up on his offer and opens the door to the storage room and walks in, flicking on the light switch immediately this time. The room is too small to have anyone laying in wait to attack him so he instantly starts to check it for suitable weapons. Taken slightly out of his element, not used to fighting with weapons or in such strange surroundings, Tarakanov tries to make the best of his situation and adapt as quickly as possible. Many items catch his eye: a baseball bat, a trashcan, a cookie sheet, a frying pan, even a weedwacker... But Viktor instead grabs a three foot length of solid steel pipe.

As he grabs his weapon, the door behind him slams shut and causes Tarakanov to run at the door and turn and shake the knob in vain. Viktor is indeed locked in a very small, a very shed-like room.

King: Well look at that Axis! He’s locked in! What’re the odds of that?

Axis: Uhhh... I wouldn’t... know...

King: Of all the bad luck, huh Axis? He was just in there, minding his own business, and BOOM, he’s locked in! That has got to suck.

Axis: Drop it King...

Not going to stand for this, Tarakanov simply takes a few steps back and then boots the door down, breaking it off its hinges and startling a few nice folks who are leaving the arena. “The Red Rage” emerges quickly from the room, holding his steel pipe in both of his hands and yanks open the door to the parking lot. Its a surprisingly warm night in Indianapolis and Tarakanov doesn’t even seem to notice the change in the weather. He steps out into the darkened lot and realizes for the first time just how huge the place is. Row upon row upon row of cars, all dead silent.

Highly agitated and ready to fight, Tarakanov begins to walk between the rows of cars. Viktor stops dead in his tracks when he hears a horn honk loudly. The sound of the horn triggers another car’s alarm and the sound of that alarm triggers another alarm. All the way through the parking lot this happens until almost every car in the lot is flashing their lights and beeping their horns and screaming “STEP AWAY FROM THE VEHICLE”. All of this noise and chaos makes Tarakanov hold his head and scream in sheer and utter frustration.

Axis: Kaine may not be much of a physical threat to Viktor, but he is sure as hell getting under his skin.

King: Kaine is playing a very psychological game here, trying to get inside the head of the Ruskie, trying to make him loose his cool.

Out of sheer aggravation, Tarakanov takes his steel pipe and smashes it into the hood of the closest car to him. Unfortunately, the car’s alarm was not on because of the couple that passed as Viktor kicked down the door are sitting inside of it, preparing to leave the stadium. Now the alarm is going off on that car as well, making Tarakanov walk swiftly between the rows of cars, shouting at the top of his lungs trying to overpower the horns and sirens and alarms “KAINE!! MAKE WHEREABOUTS KNOWN!! GET OUT HERE AND REVEAL YOURSELF TO ME!!” At once all of the cars stop their alarms and Kaine steps out from behind a car behind Tarakanov and says “I’m sorry Viktor, but revealing myself to you doesn’t appeal to me.”

A referee steps out with him and quickly takes a couple steps back when he sees Viktor charging towards Kaine with his steel pipe raised in the air. Viktor swings for the fences but Kaine easily ducks out of the way. Tarakanov turns around and swings again for Kaine’s head, but Kaine deftly steps out of danger once more. Viktor grunts in anger and swings down at Kaine’s head but Kaine nonchalantly steps to one side and knees Viktor in the crotch. Viktor drops his pipe and bends over holding his rubles in pain. With a laugh, Kaine says “Oh dear Viktor, it seems that you’ve dropped your pipe, please allow me to pick it up for you!”

King: What is Kaine going to do here?

Axis: You can never predict what’s next in these type of matches, he could do anything! Tarakanov is really being taken out of his element here tonight, he’s not used to these type of anything goes matches, whereas Kaine has been around them and is a bit more experienced in them.

Kaine does indeed pick up Tarakanov’s weapon but brings it down hard across his back, collapsing him to the ground. Only down for a moment, Tarakanov begins to get up, much to Kaine’s amusement. “Hmm, you just do not know when to quit do you my Russian friend?” Again Kaine smashes the pipe across the back of Viktor and again he falls to the cold concrete. Not down for long, Viktor begins to raise himself again, and now Kaine is more than a little upset. “Damn you, stay DOWN!!” the German screams as he swings full force with the pipe, but hits only the hard concrete as Viktor rolls out of the way. The force of steel on concrete sends a painful shockwave through Kaine’s body and prompts him to drop the pipe.

Axis: Viktor Tarakanov takes two hard hits across the back with that steel pipe and rolls out of the way of the third.

King: That’s not what made me cringe, Axis, it was the nut-shot before that!

“The Red Rage” gets up as quick as he can and moves toward the suffering Kaine with bad intentions and grabs for him, but “The Untouchable” Kaine ducks and delivers a quick boot to Tarakanov’s gut. The big man doubles over and Kaine hooks his arm around his opponent’s head and spikes him to the ground with an Evenflow DDT on the concrete. Still hurting, Kaine gets up and walks over to one of the many big square support columns and grabs a fire extinguisher off of it. Kaine pulls the pin and walks over to a quickly recovering Russian.

Viktor gets completely to his feet and looks at the smiling Kaine who says “I think we should cool down ‘The Red Rage’!” He pulls the trigger and aims the hose at Viktor’s face, spraying the white coolant all over Tarakanov. Viktor backs up and coughs wildly, trying to clear the chemicals inhaled from his lungs. Blinded and pissed, Tarakanov screams and charges at where Kaine once was and misses completely as Kaine steps calmly to the side, laughing his ass off at the rather comical looking Tarakanov. “Hey, come and hit me Russian! Quit Stalin!”

The German laughs loud and shrill, allowing Viktor to hear where his opponent is. Tarakanov swings blindly and makes a direct hit with Kaine’s skull, knocking him back into a nearby car. Kaine rests on the hood of the car and holds his forehead in agony, allowing Tarakanov the opportunity to clear his eyes of the CO².

King: HAHAHA!! QUIT STALIN!! THATS GREAT!!

Axis: It seems that Kaine took too much time toying with “The Red Rage” and finally paid the price for it.

King: Quit Stalin... hehe...

Removing most, but not all of the element from his eyes, Viktor can now see and now sees that Kaine is trying to scramble away. Enraged, Tarakanov charges towards his opponent and prepares to pick him up but doesn’t realize where Kaine scrambled to. “The Untouchable” grabs the steel pipe and smashes Tarakanov in the face with it, forcing him to stumble back with howl of pain, holding his face. Kaine gets up and we see that he now is shedding a small amount of blood from his forehead. Kaine is extremely mad now and sees Tarakanov turn around facing away, the back of his head clearly exposed.

Axis: KAINE IS GONNA GO FOR “THE PAINFUL ENDING”!! IF HE HITS THIS ITS ALL OVER!!

Kaine crouches quickly and then swoops in for the kill like a five foot six, one hundred and seventy four pound bird of prey. He raises his foot after two steps approach and...

...

Gets his foot caught by Tarakanov who saw the move coming just in the nick of time. Kaine’s face shows fear as Viktor grins as he holds onto Kaine’s foot with his right hand, and helps to push Kaine forward with his left in sort of a modified Sambo throw. The force put behind Tarakanov’s throw actually lifts Kaine off his remaining foot before slamming helplessly into one of the square support columns. His entire front side is slammed into the unforgiving concrete beam, resulting in him crumpling to a heap on the ground.

Axis: WOW!! Kaine missed “The Painful Ending” and got whipped sharply into that concrete beam! He’s not gonna be happy when or if he gets up.

King: That was indescribable! How can Kaine be alive after that?

It doesn’t look like Kaine is living much as he lies on the ground in unconsciousness. The referee is becoming concerned and tells Tarakanov to pin Kaine. Viktor simply ignores the ref and picks Kaine up by his pants. “The Untouchable” doesn’t have the strength to even stand or keep his legs bent as Tarakanov puts his head between his legs. The referee is now pleading with Viktor to pin the man, but “The Red Rage” isn’t done. He takes a few steps back and then lifts Kaine in the air, onto his shoulders, his head almost scraping the low roof of the multi-leveled parking lot.

Axis: NO!! Don’t do it Viktor, you’ll kill him!

Unforgiving, Viktor slams Kaine down hard onto the roof of a white, expensive looking Buick, denting the hood slightly, but making a very loud noise. The referee is now telling Tarakanov to pin Kaine, but his commands are falling on deaf ears. Viktor never releases his hold and lifts the German up again, high in the air, and brings him slamming back down to the hood of the car with his powerbomb, denting the hood even further.

King: Come on man, give the guy a break! Do it for LENIN!!

The referee is now literally trying to pry Viktor’s arms off of Kaine’s limp body but without effect, “The Red Rage” lifts Kaine onto his shoulders yet again and then slams him down again, completely crumpling the hood of the car. Viktor finally releases his hold and walks to the side of the car, placing his hands on the fallen German’s shoulders. There is a tense moment of pause before Viktor yells for the referee to make his pin. Reluctantly he does.

1

.

2

.

3

The referee doesn’t even take the time to declare Tarakanov the winner. He just says simply “If there wasn’t a stip, I’d disqualify you.” Viktor walks over to the man and shoves him aside as he walks away, happily humming the Soviet Anthem.

Axis: That was just sick. We’ll be right back.

We are afforded a last shot of Kaine lying on the crushed hood of the car, dark red blood dripping off his forehead and down the white car, pooling beside him.

April 21, 2003

*CLICK*

"Mmmmhhhhhhh, what?"

"You free for a booking?"

"Well that's just charming isn't it, I lose my World Title, I get my ass kicked in a Deathmatch, and that's the first thing you say to me on the phone?"

"Well, wasn't the personal visit, the gifts, and me jobbing to you while you where in bed resting not enough for you?"

"Oh yer... those small matters, heh. They might count for something I guess."

"All healed well I trust? Wouldn't want you getting hurt any more than you already are."

"I'm fine, not all of us are made out of china, like you. So I think I'm fine. And you're based close to the show anyway."

"Cool man, I've got a great line up for you, with the SJL show tonight, we should get a great crowd."

"Dude, I'll be there, of course we'll get a great crowd. Hell, I could have turned up the night after I lost my title, on crutches, pulled a Hogan, and the place would have gone ape shit."

"Amen Brothah! You always had an ego, even when you and Rage where cracking each other's skulls open on a weekly basses."

"Look at my girlfriend, if you where spending as much time with her as I am, pulling off every sex act under the sun, wouldn't you have an ego as well?"

"True, you lucky git. I'll catch you later, at your after the show man, but please, don't do what you did last time, ok?"

"What, it was only half the guys bones I broke. Anyway, I'll see you later dude."

*CLICK*

"Who was that Dace?" Kayin calls from across the dressing room.

"Mark, the dude from just down state, he's got a some charity even planned, and he's using me as the centre piece." Dace grins.

"You going to be ok tonight? I worry about you, you know."

"Worry about me? Last time, you where in the box, yelling for Atlas to debag me, and start some guy on guy action in the middle of the ring. " He mocks, before dropping to a seat.

"Well, you've gotta put on a show for everyone that could be watching." Kayin pouts as she drops beside him.

"Yes, but I thinking you're reaching just a little to far to the edges. Now, aren't I paying for you to have a private box? You're not a valet, you're not signed to the company, so milk them dry." Dace mocks, before pulling himself and Kayin up.

"Please, I'd never be so trashy as some of those girls that get hired. I have more style. Now you go out there and kick ass baby." Kayin calls as she pulls away and slips out of the door.

April 21, 2003

No time to survey the crowd, no time to look at their ‘lavishly’ decorated signs (RE: Cut out pictures of wrestlers with sparkles and black marker) as “Three Libras” by a Perfect Circle begins to play almost instantly as Wrath returns from the break. The lights dim down almost completely, as Christian Blackwell slowly walks out from behind the curtain. As he makes his way down the ramp way, flames slowly ignite beside him, as if Blackwell were a Druid… a drunk one.

“The following match…” Funyon yells into his microphone, glancing down at the card in his hand, “Is a singles match to determine the second number one contender to the Smarks Junior League WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!” The fans all cheer in unison after hearing the importance of the match up. “Introducing first, from Rosslare, Ireland. Standing Six foot four and weighing in at two hundred and thirty seven pounds, the Smarks Junior League European champion… he is… CHRISTIAN BLACKWELL!”

The fans cheer even louder as Christian’s name is read aloud, a slight smile escaping from Blackwell, but he soon tries to hide it as he walks up the steel steps and enters through the ropes, pacing around the ring as his mind races at a mile a minute.

“This is a vitally important match…” Axis begins to say. “For both men. Dace, after succumbing to Sean Atlas and losing his Heavyweight title is looking for another shot, and in his way, the European champion, Christian Blackwell, who has quietly rose through the ranks of the Junior League, and would love the opportunity to fight for the most prestigious belt in this league.”

“If I were a betting man, and,” King chuckles. “I assure you I am not.” Besides holding a ticket in his hand. “The odds on favourite would be Dace Night. Everyone cannot wait to see he and Sean Atlas face each other for the coveted championship, and he has produced many a victory over top tier players, while Blackwell has, as you said, quietly gone about his business, amassing quite a record, but he hasn’t faced the likes of Dace yet, and that may work against him…”

“Fuel for Hatred” by Satyricon hits to a massive reaction from the fans as they climb to their feet and cheer, as red and purple lights shine down from the rafters, focusing directly on Dace Night, as he walks out, nodding his head as he listens to the crowd. Dace takes his trench coat off as he walks down the ramp, throwing it off to the side as he slides into the ring, climbing to his feet, throwing his horns to the crowd as Funyon finally gets a chance to announce as the crowd dies down a little…

“… And his opponent, from Birmingham, England. Standing six foot four and weighing two hundred and fifty four pounds… he is a former world heavyweight champion and the master of Horrorcore, ladies and gentleman, he is… DACE NIGHT!”

The crowd erupts once again as Funyon slides out of the ring, a tear rolling down his cheek, misinterpreting the crowd’s cheers. The referee checks on both men as they warm up as usual.

“Neither man has the advantage in height,” Axis points out. “But Dace is marginally heavier, and stronger, while Blackwell is quite swift around the ring, compared to Dace. It’ll be interesting to see how that plays out during the course of the match.”

“I don’t think it will play a big part at all,” King replies. “What I want to know is… Will Sean Atlas get involved? Does he want Dace to win so they can have another crack at each other? Or does he want Blackwell to go through to deny Dace the chance?”

“Who knows what that man is thinking…”

The two men approach each other in the centre of the squared circle, staring into each others eyes, sussing one another out as the referee checks them both again, then motions to ringside, as the bell rings…

“Ding, ding, ding!”

… To begin the match!

Both men begin to circle each other, with Dace shaking his head, his title loss still on his mind. This pent up frustration comes to a head as he strikes first, locking horns with Blackwell, locking arms. Blackwell is taken back, quite literally, at Dace’s determination as he’s pushed back into a corner. Night unleashes his fiery knife-edge chops on Blackwell as soon as the Irishman hits the turnbuckles.

“Slap!”

… But to Dace’s surprise, Blackwell fires back with some chops of his own!

“Slap!”

… But Night soon puts a stop to this, striking suddenly and swiftly with a knee to the midsection, doubling the Irishman over. Dace follows it up with a simple front face lock, but Blackwell counters instantly, wrapping his arms around Dace and picking him up, driving him into the mat with Dace’s arm still firmly locked around his neck. Blackwell grabs hold of Dace’s free arm, applying an arm lock as the two reach a stalemate. They let go almost instantly, both men climbing to their feet in a fighting stance, the fans just about ready to cheer the two when they go at it again! Dace again strikes first, connecting with a kick to Christian’s stomach, following it up with a tie-up from behind.

“Just what I expected,” Axis reports, trying to sound intelligent. “Neither man gaining a definite advantage in the opening stages here, and swapping counters like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Does Dace even remember how to do this?” King answers with a grunt, which could be interpreted as a laugh. “With all the hardcore massacre’s and hits to the head he’s taken, I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled a week whacker out of his pocket and bloody an unsuspecting Blackwell.”

“Dace doesn’t even need weapons to bloody you, that’s how dangerous this man can be. Blackwell has never come across man like this in the Junior League, and one wonders whether he will be ready for him…”

Blackwell attempts to counter, shooting a back elbow at Night’s head, missing. Blackwell tries with the opposite elbow, only to get the same result. Dace is about to attempt a move after Blackwell’s failed counters when the Irishman surprises Night, reaching down and grabbing his legs, taking them out from under him! Blackwell spins around and falls to the mat, applying a leg lock to Dace.

King ponders, “I wonder where Blackwell will target Dace… He has such a wide arsenal of offensive moves, it’d be easy for him to compensate.”

“I’m impressed King,” Axis replies… impressed. “You must have studied Night’s matches all night.”

“Actually it’s right here on his stats, he even wrote out his ring entrance.”

“…Stats?”

Hitting back quickly, Dace replies with kicks right to Blackwell’s face, knocking the Irishman away. Blackwell, not to be defeated to easily, attacks Dace’s leg again, lifting it from the mat and wrapping his arm around his ankle, pushing his foot the opposite way with a front on ankle lock, trying to completely lock in the move, attempting to grapevine Dace’s leg. The master of Horrorcore growls as he kicks Blackwell away once again, diving across on top of Blackwell as he hits the canvas, holding him in place as he drives his knee into Blackwell’s ribs!

“Brutal treatment from Dace,” Axis says, cringing at every blow Dace deals, watching Blackwell groaning in pain. “I think he still has Atlas on his mind, and that does not bode well for Blackwell…”

“If Blackwell is so heavy on Psychology, maybe he can pull a chainsaw out. It’d be perfect! It’ll drive Dace utterly insane,” King replies with a wicked smile.

“I don’t know King… Blackwell doesn’t seem like the ‘chainsaw type’.”

“Well who would be the ‘chainsaw type’?”

“The Atlas type I guess.”

Dace jumps a little higher, driving his knee into Blackwell’s kidney… but the Irishman moves aside! Dace gasps for a split second as he lands on his knees, allowing Blackwell to climb to his feet, take a step back and swing his leg around…

… But Night ducks! Dace gets up off his knees and wraps his arms around Blackwell’s waist from behind, but the Irishman runs forward with Dace still attached and grabs onto the ropes, Blackwell staying in place while Dace goes tumbling backward. Blackwell charges at Night from off of the ropes, but Dace catches Blackwell around the neck with a lariat!

“Holy…” Axis cringes again. “Dace seems tired of playing around and pulls out a devastating lariat!”

Blackwell falls to the mat in an instant as Dace picks him right back up, connecting with elbows to the jaw, just to rub salt into the wound. Blackwell is groggy as he bounces off the ropes, not able to move out of the way as Dace catches Blackwell in the face with a Yazuka kick!

“You’re right Axis,” King replies in agreement. “Dace pulling out the Yazuka kick early, and Blackwell has to be seeing stars right now, those were some stiff blows… ouch.”

Dace dives on top of Blackwell, grinding his head into the mat with his forearm as he pins his shoulders down.

… O – n – e!

… T – w – o! But a Two count is all Dace gets as turns his body to the side, rolling his shoulder off from the mat. Dace seems to show contempt for Blackwell as the Irishman stumbles away, wiping a trickle of blood away from his lip. Dace catches up with Blacky, kneeing him in the stomach, pushing him back into the corner once more. Dace attempts to whip Blackwell back across the ring, but Christian does not budge. Night tries again, but Blackwell hooks his arm over the top rope, holding himself in place. Dace’s eyes narrow as just attempts to kick the piss out of Blackwell, but the Irishman grabs Dace by the foot as it closes in on his ribs! Blackwell moves forward, Dace hopping on one leg, before Blackwell pulls him closer and gets a measure of revenge as he strikes him with a lariat, knocking Dace to the canvas!

“Blackwell shows he’s not going to be intimidated by Dace’s sheer power, replying with a lariat of his own!” Axis yells. “It’s easy to see that Dace is targeting Blackwell’s ribs, and mercilessly attacking. Blackwell needs to put his strategy in place before Dace does any more damage…”

“Blackwell’s strategy was probably planned at the pub with his mates over a pint of Guinness at two in the morning, he probably only woke up about fifteen minutes ago!”

“Oh poppycock, Blackwell can hold his liquor better than anyone, unlike some certain commentators I know…”

“Poppycock? Can’t hold down my liquor!? That’s it, you and me, right now,” King shouts, motioning to a bottle of Johnny Walker he pulls out from under the table.

Blackwell reaches down for Dace, spying the bottle of sweet, sweet liquor from out of the corner of his eye, but he shakes it off, turning his attention back to Dace as the fans still cheer his fight back. Blackwell clobbers Dace back into the ropes with some stiff forearm blows, before whipping the master of Horrorcore across the ring. As Dace returns, Blackwell hooks one arm under Night’s and takes him down to the mat with a hip toss. Dace rolls right back to his feet, replying with a sharp kick to the midsection, grabbing Blackwell and pulling him close, throwing his arm over his shoulder and grabbing him by the waist, lifting him into the air and slamming him back down with a Suplex! Dace rolls over with the cover for

… O – n – e!

… T – w – But Blackwell kicks out again, shaking out the cobwebs as he lifts himself to his feet. Dace cuts him off before he can climb back up, clubbing him in the back of the neck, grabbing Blackwell by the scruff of the neck and pulling him into the turnbuckles face first, kneeling down by the second turnbuckle. Dace wastes no time in dropping on top of Blackwell with en elbow to the midsection! The fans appreciate the psychology amazingly and applaud as a result, as Dace continues dropping the big elbow, Blackwell coughing up a lung as Night finally stops, lifting Blackwell back onto his feet.

Dace takes Blackwell to the centre of the ring, the Irishman in a bad way, not able to fight back as he holds his ribs in pain. Dace puts his arm underneath Blackwell’s and lifts him into the air, slamming him back down on his knee with a backbreaker!

“Oooh!” Axis cries, squirming in his seat. “Blackwell has meet a definite road block in his SJL career here. So far in he’s been able to dominate his opponents by exploiting a section of their body, and maybe because of that he’s grown a little soft?”

“That may be the case Axis, this must be a startling, and I mean startling realisation for Blackwell, as Dace is really pounding on those ribs. That move was just like taking a baseball bat to Blackwell’s ribs, and this is exactly Dace’s sort of situation, where he can dominate his opponent with his power and technique.”

“Shock and awe, huh,” Axis replies with a chuckle.

“Let’s just hope Blackwell puts up more of a fight then those Iraqi’s!” King answers with a laugh, drawing dirty looks from Axis and the people around him.

Dace presses himself into Blackwell’s chest, pinning him AGAIN!

… O – n – e!

… T – w – o!

… T – But Blackwell is able to kick out, still a lot of fight left in the spirited Irishman. Dace tries to weaken Christian’s body and spirit as he smashes him in the face with his stiff elbows, but Blackwell attempts to fight back, blocking one blow and firing back with a forearm to the jaw! The two go blow for blow in the centre of the ring, neither man gaining an advantage, but Blackwell plays it smart as he suddenly takes Dace down, yanking both his legs out from under him.

Blackwell tries to shift the momentum totally in his favour, but it’s a clear mistake as reaches up and connects with an elbow to the face, knocking Blackwell away. Dace climbs to his feet, charging towards Blackwell with a second Yazuka kick! But Blackwell manages to duck this one in the nick of time, taking hold of Night’s waist from behind, trying for a German Suplex! Blackwell attempts the move, but Dace smartly locks his leg around Blackwell’s, blocking the move. Christian tries once more, but again, Dace blocks, trying to counter with a back elbow to Blackwell, but the Irishman ducks and thumps Dace in the back of the neck with a forearm! And another! Dace loses his bearing just for a second, allowing Blackwell enough time to lift him into the air and slam him with a German Suplex on the back of his head!

“I thought Dace was going to take control of the match like he had done before,” Axis admits. “But Blackwell hits another of his famous, or should that be infamous German Suplexes… and he’s holding on with the bridge!”

… O – n – e!

… T – w – But Dace rolls a shoulder off the mat, Blackwell still attached with the bridge. Blackwell rolls back onto his feet, lifting Night back up by the waist, attempting to pick him up with another German, but Dace counters, performing a standing switch, spinning behind Blackwell. Dace attempts a German Suplex of his own, lifting Christian into the air, but Blackwell reverses in mid-move, shifting all his weight forward, pushing down as he rolls forward, grabbing Dace’s legs and rolling him up in a cradle pin!

“… O – n – e!”

“… T – w – o!” But Dace kicks out, pushing Blackwell away.

“It was folly of Blackwell to try another Suplex so soon,” Axis comments. “He was pushing his luck with the first, and Dace easily countered the second, but to his credit, Blackwell made up for it, sneaking a quick two count out of Night.”

“The amount of counters so far is phenomenal,” King replies. “Both men are doing everything to win, and you have to ask yourself: Who has more to lose? Dace desperately wants another shot at Atlas, not only to take his title back, but to get his revenge and really bust him up and humiliate him for the beating he took.”

“Of course, Blackwell has much to gain from this match. He knows too well how easily a man can be forgotten, and how one single loss can make the top brass lose faith in you, and it won’t be weeks or even months before you get another shot. He has developed quite a streak lately, and he won’t want to end it here…”

Blackwell and Dace both jump to their feet, Blackwell just a little faster than Dace, allowing him to rear back and unleash on Dace…

… His chops to the throat!

“Slap!”

“Slap!” King applauds, “This is what I like to see. Blackwell disregarding the rules and doing things his own way, keep it up I say.”

“The ref is going to step in soon, but even a few of these chops will have a big effect, the throat and neck being incredibly sensitive places, and Blackwell knows this. His strategy is coming to light now…”

“Slap!” Blackwell is about to strike again when the referee grabs him by the arm and orders him to stop. Blackwell claims this is a valid tactic when he comes from, and the referee then reminds Blackwell this isn’t a pub.

Christian grudgingly lets go, pushing Dace into the ropes, then whipping him across to the ring. As Dace returns, Blackwell takes a few steps forward, lifting Dace up by one leg, falling backwards as he throws Night onto the top rope! Dace grabs his throat as he bounces back off, stumbling back towards Blackwell, who hooks his arm under Night’s and sweeps his leg out from under him, falling forward and driving the back of his head into the mat with an S.T.O!

“Another smart move,” Axis comments. “Blackwell could see how dire the situation was getting, and totally switched his offence, targeting Dace’s neck, attempting to level the playing field.”

“Just once, just once… I would like to see Blackwell wrestle drunk, that’d pop a good buy rate.”

“Or, we could even do a special pay per view event: every wrestler, every official is totally wasted.”

“You may only have one leg, but by god, you’re a freaking genius!”

Blackwell spins around on all fours, looking over Dace as he lifts his head up and wraps his arm around his neck, pulling it back with a Dragon Sleeper! Dace sits on the mat, trying to claw at Blackwell, getting him to release the hold, but Blackwell is intent on keeping the lock applied, as blood trickles down from the corner of his mouth, dripping on Dace’s shirt. Night looks down at the crimson liquid and manages a short smile, but Blackwell soon forces it away as he wrenches back on his neck, twisting it around as Dace reaches out, already close to the ropes, but unable to reach.

“Rest hold!” King shouts. “Consolidating on his momentum with a rest hold, brilliant!”

“It’s a submission hold, fool, working on Dace’s neck,” Axis snaps back. “Dace may have gained the early advantage, but Blackwell has slowed the match up considerably, and Dace better be careful not to bought into this kind of match, because Blackwell is a master at it.”

Dace squirms, trying to shake himself free form Blackwell’s grasp, but it isn’t going to be easy with Blackwell wrapping his massive pythons around his head. Dace crab walks across the mat, Blackwell tries to hold him in place, leaning back even further, but Dace throws his leg out in front of him…

… And it falls on the bottom rope! Blackwell immediately lets go, climbing to his feet as Dace rolls to the corner, helping himself to his feet as Blackwell makes his way over, slowly, deliberately, pushing his hand against Night’s throat and leaning back, striking Dace against the neck with a back elbow! Blackwell takes Dace by the hand, thinks about taking him for a lovely stroll, but decides against it as he whips him across the ring, and Dace hits the turnbuckles, dazed momentarily. Blackwell flies across the ring, showing more speed than he has in his entire SJL career, reaching Dace, flipping once, attempting a rolling wheel kick!

… But Dace moves aside! Blackwell crashes into the turnbuckles!

“Dace moved!” Axis cries. “Blackwell crashed into the turnbuckles!”

“And I called you a genius…” King sighs. “Blackwell hit those turnbuckles hard, only serving to worsen his injury…”

Dace crosses Blackwell off his Christmas card list as he approaches the Irishman, who is curled up in a ball, coughing up a lung. Dace brings Blackwell to his feet, throwing him against the turnbuckles and ramming his shoulder into his ribs again and again as the crowd cheer, a mixture of saliva and blood escaping from Blackwell’s mouth as Dace spears him in the ribs. The master of Horrorcore brings Blackwell out from the turnbuckles, placing him in a standing headscissors while hooking under his arms, lifting him into the air, flipping the Irishman, and… nailing him with a Tiger Driver!

“OOH! What impact!” Axis shouts. “Dace put everything into that move, and Blackwell is literally whimpering in pain! Both men are not holding back, every move is specifically targeting those injured areas. It’s impossible to tell who will prevail!”

“Dace had the right idea,” King replies. “Attacking the ribs very early. Blackwell’s finisher relies heavily on himself keeping himself in place with a bridge, which puts tremendous train on that midsection.”

Dace hooks Blackwell by the leg as the referee slides over, ominously, more blood seems to trickle from Blackwell’s mouth, and now his nose…

“… O – n – e!”

“… T – w – o!”

“… T – h – r –“ But Blackwell rolls a shoulder from the mat! The crowd cheers, not knowing whom to root for, but just appreciating a great match, as Dace climbs back to his feet, looking around at the fans as they are in hysterics. He looks down at Blackwell, hunched over, coughing once again. Dace lifts Blackwell to his feet, just making things worse for the Irishman, placing him in another headscissors, lifting Blackwell up onto his shoulders. Dace struggles to keep the six foot four man on his shoulders, and struggles even harder when he tries to place Blackwell in a crucifix position!

“This… this is the BLACK NOVA!” Axis shouts excitingly. “This would put Blackwell out, but Dace is having trouble, Blackwell’s starting to slip!”

Blackwell flays his legs in the air, trying to free himself from Dace’s grasp. The master of Horrorcore can’t hold the Irishman any longer, and he slips out behind Dace! Blackwell tries to counter quickly, reaching down, hooking one of Dace’s legs and holding onto his waist, lifting him up and slamming him back down with a back drop Suplex!

“BEAUTIFUL!” King applauds. “Both men exchange some devastating moves. Blackwell made sure to increase the angle at which Dace hit the mat, just to aggravate that injured neck even more.”

“Both men are out, and why not, they’ve both been put through a lot of pain, and the first one to get up will have the advan-“

“No. Just, no, Axis.”

“One!”

… The referee shouts as the fans chant along, stomping there feet on the ground and clapping their hands, as if about to bust out their rendition of “We will rock you.” But luckily they spare us, as the two men lie groan on the mat, Dace holding his head in his hands, the pain from his neck shooting down his spine and coursing through his body, whilst Blackwell curls up in the foetal position, blood dripping from over his bottom lip, staining the mat…

“TWO!”

“THREE!” Axis whines, “Why wouldn’t you let me finish my sentence?”

“FOUR!” King shouts in reply, “It’s just stating the bloody obvious!”

“FIVE!” Axis pouts, “You’re a moron, how’s that for stating the obvious…”

“SIX!”

“SEVEN!” As the two announcers bicker amongst themselves, the two gladiators try to bring themselves to their feet, Dace working onto one knee while Blackwell requires help from the turnbuckles, pulling himself, slowly, to his feet…

“EIGHT!”

Dace climbs back onto two feet, spying Blackwell from out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the turnbuckles. Dace jogs across the ring, hitting Blackwell with his outstretched arm, nearly taking his head off! Dace attempts to whip Christian across the ring, but the Irishman reverses it, taking Dace by the neck, looking for a Neckbreaker! Dace counters this, pushing Blackwell into the ropes.

“Coming into the dying stages of this match, and each man is going counter for counter, desperately trying to hang on,” Axis says, his eyes glued to the action.

The Irishman comes back towards Night, who charges forward! Dace lowers his head, looking to gore the unsuspecting Irishman, but luckily, Blackwell is up to the task, leap frogging over the top of Dace.

“Blackwell attempting a Neckbreaker; Dace attempting the GORE! The key to this match for both men was working a body part, it’s just a matter of who can exploit this first…”

Night lifts his head and hits the ropes, rebounding back to the centre of the ring where Blackwell is waiting. The Irishman picks Dace up, spinning him around in the air in a Tilt-a-Whirl! Dave lands on his feet however, grabbing Blackwell by the head and driving his knee into his stomach again and again, finally grabbing Blackwell under his arm, hooking his arms…

“It’s the DEFENESTRATION!” Axis cries.

“This is it, it has to be Axis!” King shouts in reply.

Dace tries to lift Blackwell up, but the Irishman won’t budge like a stubborn old mule, and that’s what he looks like as he kicks his legs out, landing back on his feet. Dace grunts, lifting Blackwell back up, but the Irishman holds on for dear life, shifting all his weight down to the mat, landing back on his feet!

“He blocked it!” Axis cries. “That’s how much he wants to win this, he’s doing practically everything in his power to stay alive in this match!”

Blackwell unhooks one arm, literally clawing at Dace, pounding at his neck with forearms, trying to force Dace to let go. Dace holds onto Blackwell, but the pain becomes to much as Blackwell strikes him one more time, a hard blow, which allows Blackwell to spin behind Dace, hook his other arm in a chickening, and push Night down to the mat!

“THE NARCOSYNTHESIS!” King spurts out in a ramble. “Jeez, why do they need such long finisher names?”

“Never mind that King, haven’t you worked it out yet? This move, it puts pressure on Dace’s neck, which Blackwell has been working on all match, but it’s a double edged sword, because Dace has been working Blackwell’s mid section, which is vital to complete this move!”

“Who will give out first!? If Blackwell lets go before Dace taps out, he won’t be able to lock the move in again!”

The crowd are on their feet as Dace doesn’t allow Blackwell to flip over, digging in, but Blackwell counters this in desperation, head butting Dace in the back of the neck, blooding his already bloody face even more! Dace’s defences slip for a split second, allowing Blackwell to flip over Dace, locking in the Cattle Mutilation!

The atmosphere inside the arena is at a fever pitch as both men almost cry out in pain, Blackwell shaking violently, trying to keep the strain, pain shooting through his body as Dace grits his teeth, his neck bending at alarming angles. The referee looks at Dace, then Blackwell, then Dace, and then Blackwell, not knowing who is going to give up…

One last cry is let out, and someone utters, “I give up…”

“Ding, ding, ding!”

“What!? Who was it!? Who gave up in the hold!?” Axis asks in desperation.

“I don’t know Axis! With all the noise and commotion I couldn’t tell!”

The referee rushes over and whispers in Funyon’s ear, who raises the mic to his lips, announcing…

“Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of this match and the NEW! Number one contender to the World Heavyweight championship… is…”

“CHRISTIAN BLACKWELL!”

“Blackwell held on long enough to get the victory!” Axis shouts. “Dace fought on bravely, and Blackwell was showing signs of… but that was unbelievable!”

Christian Blackwell is still in agony, sliding out of the ring, the referee lifting his arm alone causing him to let out a long groan, as blood escapes from a cut on his forehead, from his nose, and from both sides of his mouth, a supposed winner. He stumbles up the ramp way as Dace slowly but surely climbs to his feet, listening to the crowd applaud.

“A fantastic match,” Axis states. “Next week Blackwell goes on to meet Sean Atlas and Crow for the SJL World Championship, bot for now, he has to lick his wounds, suck it up and prepare for the biggest match of his career in the Junior League.”

“Oh man, if you thought this match was great, look what’s coming up! After the break, Crow takes on Tryst, so whatever you do, don’t go away!”

The screen fades to black as the camera focuses on Blackwell, meeting the mystery man at the top of the ramp once again…

April 21, 2003

Axis: Well, now we're ready for the match I've been waiting for all night... the ladder match between Crowe and Tryst!

King: Yeah, and I've been waiting for this show to end. I have a date tonight, you know.

Axis: Hopefully with a female this time, King?

King: ...

Axis: Anyway, Funyon should be ready to announce the competit--(Axis suddenly stops, and presses his headphones to his ear, listening to something) Wait! Apparently, there's been some kind of disturbance backstage!

*KTttzZZchht!*

Television sets around the globe snow for a second, before focusing in on the backstage of the arena! There, Tryst and Crowe are already engaged in heavy fisticuffs! The Sherwood Fable and the Antichrist Superstar exchange rights and lefts! But suddenly, and action is halted as Tryst is levelled from behind by... a plain punch?

Crowe looks at his fallen adversary, surprsied... and then looks up only long enough to catch an undescribably generic figure grab him, and throw him to the concrete with a SCOOP SLAM! Crowe writhes in pain!

Tryst arises from his punch, and turns around to face his generic pearl harbour-er... and gets struck down with a Scoop Slam of his own! Both men lay flat on the pavement, as the black trunked man stands beside both... and drops a generic DOUBLE ELBOW~!

Refs, medics and road agents rush into the scene, as the camera cuts back to King and Axis.

Axis: Fantastic. Another Johnny Generic squash.

King: Damn no-showers.

Axis: Indeed. Anyway, the REAL match you've all been waiting for, coming up next!

April 21, 2003

SJL Backtrack™ is brought to you by Thoth Audio Broadcasting. Visit TAB on the web at thothab.com.

--- Metal ---

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.

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... The Antichrist Superstar grabs referee Sexton Hardcastle and makes him start the count. Very slowly...

ONE!

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

TWO!

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

TTTTHHHHHHHHRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

“Ah, dammit! That’s not right,” conveys Axis,

*DING! DING! DING!*

“The winners of this bout as a result of a pinfall... HOLLLYYYWOOOD SPIKE JJEENNKKKIIINNNNSSSS AND CCCCCCCRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!”

--- Now ---

To anxious murmurs of the crowd in Indianapolis, the opening beats of “Look at me Now” by Reveille blast through the speaker system in the Conseco Fieldhouse! The flashing arena light illuminate the spectators, who jeer at the soon to emerge superstar. Soon after, Jenkins makes his way through the curtain, taking in the heat directed at him while he gets across the stage and down the ramp.

“The following Handicap match is set for one fall! Introducing first, from Hollywood, California, weighing in at 220 pounds... “HOLLYWOOD” SPIKE JENKINS!”

[suicide King] There he is, the King of the World!

[Axis] Or he thinks so, at least. What doe she have to be King of, a 1-6 record in his last seven matches?

[suicide King] You asshat, he holds a win over both Va’aiga AND Atlas!

[Axis] And each of them holds three over him... What’s your point?

[suicide King] My point is that you, sir, are an asshat.

Spike makes it to the ring, where he walks up the steps and through the ropes. Tossing his leather jacket to the side, he poses around to more negativity from the heated crowd. Meanwhile, the lights turn to normal and his music fades out to scattered boos while we await the next competitor...

The arena drops to darkness, as Va'aiga's shadow appears in the entranceway, dressed in his hooded training top with the hood down. Pryo fires off as the first "SLAM!" of "Slam (The Remix)" by Onyx & Biohazard hits, and Gold strobe lights pierce the darkness of the entrance ramp as Va'aiga begins his sprint to the ring, heading right for Jenkins!

[Axis] The Maori Badass is out to get Hollywood!

[suicide King] And Spike is hightailing it out of the ring!

Just as Va’aiga slides under the bottom rope, Jenkins flies over the middle on the opposite side, standing by the commentary table. Enraged, Va’aiga throws off his hooded sweatshirt and tosses it at Spike, then fires off the Maori hand sign...

“MY HOUSE!”

Standing besides Spike, watching the silent exchange of glares between the two men, Funyon announces Va’aiga.

“And his partner, currently in the ring, from Rotorua, Aotearoa, weighing in at 285 pounds... VA’AIGA!!!”

As the view on the Smarktron shifts between the faces of the Maori and King of the World, the house light soon return to normal, along with the music.

[Axis] We have ourselves a volatile situation here! These two have to team up tonight, but I don’t think they’ll want to tag each other in unless it’s with punches!

[suicide King] Obviously. Our champion shouldn’t have anything to worry about here.

Right on cue, the opening chords to “Polyamorous” resonate through the arena, as strobe lights from the ceiling flash and just a few seconds in, right before the heavy drums hit...

!*BOOM*!

A colossal explosion goes off onstage, leaving behind a haze of smoke. White light coming from the entranceway illuminates the smoke as is dissipates, while the silhouette of Sean Atlas appears from within. As he steps out in plain sight, a sustained chorus of boos welcomes him. Funyon, who by now has cautiously stepped out to ringside, introduces the masked man.

“And their opponent, from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 230 pounds, he is the SJL World Champion.... SEAN ATLA....”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there, Fun boy. I know who I am and these mindless sheep better know it too...”

BOOOOOOOOOOOO...

“Yeah, say what you want. Doesn’t take this belt away... Now, Va’aiga, Spike. Guys, look the situation we got here. You’re being forced, against your will, to team up... do you see ANY justice in that?”

[suicide King] I sure don’t.

[Axis] You can’t be serio...

[suicide King] Shhh, he speaks!

“Va’aiga, my man. You see how scared that little punk Spike was when you came in? He’s a chickenshit. You can take him out right now and not even team with him. Then it’s just me and you, one-on-one, with no egomaniac assholes to bother either one of us... Come on, don’t you want to see what it’s like to face the champ?”

[Axis] That manipulative prick!

[suicide King] But at least he does it right!

Without giving it any more thought, Va’aiga spins around and leaps through the ropes, going after Spike Jenkins! Hollywood dodges to the side, but Va’aiga gives chase, and with a sudden burst of speed, catches Spike in the near side of the ring! Dragging him by the neck, the larger Va’aiga takes Jenkins by the arm and smoothly forces him into...

*CRASH*

...Solid steel steps! The top layer goes flying to the side as Jenkins tries to get back to his feet and fight off the enraged New Zealander... But he can’t even take two mere steps before feeling the enormous hand of Va’aiga on the back of his neck...

[Axis] King, I think they’re coming this way!

[suicide King] Why in the world would they do that, Axis? I wonder what we have that they can use...

“AAAAAAAAAAAHH!”

[Axis] Duck!

*CRASH*

Spike Jenkins lands atop the table, hitting his head on one of the monitors! Axis and The Suicide King dive to the sides, protecting themselves while Va’aiga lines up next to the ring, leaning down, waiting for Spike’s most vulnerable moment...

[suicide King] What’s he doing..?

“TURN UP! KICK ASS!”

Va’aiga sprints forward...

!!!*CRASH*!!!

[suicide King] HOLY CRAP!

[Axis] The Maori Badass just drove Hollywood Spike Jenkins through our table!

[suicide King] And the match hasn’t even started yet! What a cheater...

[Axis] Cheater? He was coerced by Sean Atlas! And now his partner is knocked out right in front of us!

[suicide King] Speaking of Atlas, he’s just around the corner and on his way here!

With his belt in hand, Sean Atlas races around the corner of the ring, grabbing the ringpost for leverage. To chants of “HOLY SHIT!” from the spectators, Atlas comes around the other corner, jumping over the knocked over steps... He raises the World Title belt level with his head and heads for the large Maori nearly...!

[Axis] Va’aiga!!

He turns around...

And ducks! Sean Atlas misses the belt shot to the head! He stumbles to get his balance back, but like Spike moments earlier, feels the enormous hand of the Maori on the back of his neck... and gets tossed into the ring! Va’aiga slides in behind him yells at Anthony Michael Hall to ring the bell...

*DING, DING*

[Axis] And it looks like this match is underway!

[suicide King] How brilliant is Sean Atlas? He’s just turned this handicap match in his favor, and managed to get a Maori to do his handiwork for him. Genius!

[Axis] But wouldn’t taking Spike out early backfire on him? He could have forced the two to bicker for the duration of the whole match.

[suicide King] And what guarantee did he have that they would?

As referee Hall kicks the dropped title belt out of the ring while Va’aiga gets Atlas to his feet and lets loose with massive Maori punches! A Right! Left! Right hook! Left jab! He winds up for an uppercut...

Atlas sidesteps away! Va’aiga’s arm goes flying into the air while Sean sneaks up around him and grabs his feet... the pulls them out form under him, sending the large Maori down face first to the mat! Va’aiga quickly recoils however, and before Atlas can mount him for a Wheelbarrow suplex, the large Maori is already on his way up.

Changing his strategy, Atlas steps to the side and hooks Va’aiga’s leg, then spreads his arm across the big Maori’s back and prepares to hit the Russian Leg Sweep when unbeknownst to him, Va’aiga has locked his leg to the mat... and after Sean’s first attempt, Va’aiga falls back and hits a leg sweep of his own!

[Axis] Maori Leg Sweep from Va’aiga!

[suicide King] He just couldn’t live with the “Russian” tag, could he...

Va’aiga and Sean both stand roughly at the same time, but the Maori draws first blood and throws another sick punch at the face, or rather, mask of Sean Atlas. On his second swing though, Sean has already picked up on the strategy and ducks, grabbing Va’aiga’s arm while sending him spinning around. Quickly, the champ wraps Va’aiga’s hand around his neck, setting him up for, and then executing...

[suicide King] The Immaculate Neckbreaker!

Atlas covers...

...ONE...

...TWO...

NO!! Va’aiga kicks out with authority, pushing Atlas’ hands off!

Sean tries raising him up, but Va’aiga refuses and gets up on his own. Atlas tries grabbing his head, but Va’aiga quickly swings Sean’s arms off and away, then charges at him with a Lariat! Atlas goes down quick, but comes back up off the mat just as quickly, as Va’aiga dashes towards the ropes behind him... and right when Sean makes it up to his feet, the Maori comes up behind him and tackles him down to the canvas!

[Axis] Running Tackle from behind! Va’aiga is getting quite a bit of offense in on the champion.

[suicide King] Yeah, you always say that, and he never loses.

[Axis] Um, 12 and 2...

[suicide King] Is 14. What’s your point?

Va’aiga stands and brings Sean up with him. Taking his hand, Va’aiga whips Atlas off to the ropes... :bounce: ...Sean comes back and ducks an attempted Yakuza kick from the Maori! Again... ...He returns to the standing Va’aiga again, but this time is takes off his feet and spun around, tilted and whirled, until finally being brought down with a Spiral bomb!!!

The fans pop wildly for the Spiral bomb, just as Va’aiga gooks the leg and covers...!

...ONE...

...TWO...

...NO!

[suicide King] Sean Atlas kicks out of the Spin Cycle, not selling the move in the least!

[Axis] He waited until the last second to kick out, King...

[suicide King] It’s called resting, Aussie.

Without missing a beat, Va’aiga pulls Sean up by his hand and gets him standing. He once again rears his hand back for a punch, but as he swings and Sean ducks, Va’aiga halts his punch and instead, lifts his leg to knee Atlas in the face! Sean stumbles back, grabbing his face through the leather mask.

Suddenly, blind to everything but the palms of his hands, Atlas feels a large man grabbing him around the waist. He immediately spins around and blocks the probably German Suplex attempt, and with eyes half closed, throws up a kick in front of him.... Luckily, the kick gets Va’aiga to double over, and Sean immediately capitalizes with a DDT!

[suicide King] Even when he can’t see a thing, Atlas somehow finds a way to attack.

[Axis] Yeah. LUCKY him.

Sean gets back up, but again, Va’aiga stands with him. Atlas grabs on to the Maori’s hand and send hi off into the ropes... :bounce: ...As Va’aiga returns, Atlas notices his lowered shoulder and immediately leapfrogs over the charging New Zealander, avoiding the shoulder tackle... ... Va’aiga returns again, this time getting his leg up high in the air, looking for a Yakuza Kick...

But Atlas telegraphs it, catching the leg on his shoulder! He draws Va’aiga closer and hooks his neck, trapping him standing on one leg... then, as he’s done many times before snaps back and flips the Maori over with a Leg Capture Suplex!! Keeping his grip on the leg, Atlas forces himself to bridge and pin his opponent to the mat...

...ONE...

...TWO....

...THNNOO! Va’aiga powers out of the cover, escaping the three count.

[suicide King] Va’aiga came awfully close to losing on that exchange, Axis.

[Axis] It’s a pinfall attempt. They’ve each had a couple already.

Finally, Atlas manages to stand up before his counterpart in this match. He takes the moment to glance over to the rubble that used to be the announcers’ table, making sure that Spike hasn’t moved an inch. Indeed, he hasn’t, and satisfied with that fact, Sean prepares to attack as Va’aiga comes to his feet...

*Smack*

But Va’aiga doesn’t move, ignoring the chop.

*Smack*

“Whoo!”

*Smack*

“Whoo!”

*Smack*

“Whoo!”

*Smack*

“Whoo!”

*SMACK*

“WHOO!”

The last strike gets Va’aiga to cringe slightly, but he otherwise ignores Sean’s attempts at a striking offense and quickly grabs him by the neck...! But Atlas escapes with a kick to each of Va’aiga’s knees, forcing the larger man back. He takes Va’aiga’s hand and maneuvers it between his legs, the slides up behind him...

[suicide King] Looks like he’s setting up a Stretch Suplex here.

[Axis] Can he get Va’aiga over, though?

Sean reaches around to hook Va’aiga’s other arm and with an impulsive pop of his hips, lifts the Maori off his feet and over for the Suplex...

But he lands on his feet! Va’aiga didn’t twist around as Sean expected and came down on the soles of his boots! Atlas quickly shifts gears and whips Va’aiga towards the ropes... but holds on to his arm, snapping Va’aiga back to him. He wraps his arms around the big man and tries a Belly-to-Belly Suplex...!

Va’aiga prevents it! He locked his foot behind Sean’s and stopped the Suplex... then lifts Sean and takes him up, over and away, releasing him in mid air with a Release Belly-to-Belly suplex of his own!!

[Axis] Huge move from Va’aiga!

[suicide King] Apparently, not huge enough since Atlas is already back on his feet.

Sean stands, but is visibly groggy. He stumbles around, walking right into the hands of Va’aiga, as he is lifted up for a bodyslam... but is dropped to the side with a Southern Lights Bomb!!!

“OOHHHHH.”

[Axis] Dear God! That could finish him off right there

Va’aiga covers...!

...ONE...

...TWO...

...TTHHHHRRNNNNNNNOOOOOO!!! Atlas kicks out, infuriating the Maori Badass!

[suicide King] I knew it! Atlas has a lot more resilience in him then that.

[Axis] But how much is left, King? How much is left?!

Va’aiga stands up, lifting Sean in front of him, facing his back. He grabs for Atlas, looking for a German Suplex... But Atlas suddenly reverses, taking Va’aiga around for a back Suplex attempt... And yet, the atheist antihero gets his attempt blocked as Va’aiga raises his leg up and across.

The Maori spins out and reverses again, trying the German a second time, but when met by resistance from Sean, he shifts his grip into a Full Nelson... Atlas shakes his head vigorously, the pain being inflicted on his neck searing, and Va’aiga follows up by lifting Atlas high above his head, then falling back and bridging out the Dragon Suplex!!! He instantly covers as Hall drops to make the count...!

...ONE...

...TWO...

...TTHHHRRREENNNNOOOO!!!

[suicide King] Atlas gets the shoulder up!

Va’aiga leaps to his feet sensing victory is close, and motions for Atlas to stand.

[Axis] Va’aiga is like a shark that smells blood, King. He’s ready to strike out for the win here.

[suicide King] He’s like nothing on earth. The world has only one thing like Va’aiga, and that’s probably one too many by my count.

Atlas stumbles to his feet and slowly does a 180 as Va’aiga launches at him, taking the SJL Champion down with a fierce Shoulder Tackle in the center of the ring! Va’aiga stands again and beckons Sean Atlas up from the ground once more...

[suicide King] Tackle coming, hold the onions!!

Atlas, looking slightly dazed turns to face the Maori Badass as he rushes again, and yet AGAIN, blasts down Atlas with a tackle. Va’aiga leaps to his feet and poses for the crowd!

”MY HOUSE!” MAAAAHHH HOOOUUUSSSEE!!

Va’aiga pulls Sean up to his feet and the SJL’s hottest wrestler is left staggering and stumbling, dazed by the sheer impact of Va’aiga’s spear sequence. Va’aiga Va’aiga shakes off his shoulder, loosening his arms up, and then fires off a stiff left cross... but misses! Atlas ducks and slips his arm in around Va’aiga’s neck! He quickly ducks down and grab’s the Maori’s leg, lifting him onto his shoulders, desperately trying to keep him balanced...

[King] We’re about to see the Saint’s Demise!!!

[Axis] No, not again... Not to Va’aiga...!

But it is not to be as Va’aiga slips down behind Sean, escaping the Demise! He shoves Sean towards the ropes, where he bounces off and returns to Va’aiga, only to receive a stiff jab to the jaw! It rocks him back until, Va’aiga fires a second and Sean rocks backwards again... A third strike sends Atlas reeling off the ropes!! Va’aiga draws breath, kisses his right fist and BLASTS Atlas with a right hook!!! The champ staggers off the ropes and back into a kitchen sink kneelift from Va’aiga, causing him to double over.... He’s suddenly lifted off his feet as Va’aiga backs up against the ropes....!!!

[Axis] Here it comes King, this could be the MAORI DROP!

[suicide King] Dammit! That big Maori is going to break the champion! Where’s a PROPER wrestler when you need him?? I’m fed up with brawlers and hardcore freaks winning week in week out in this federation! And on top of them, this Maori freak!

As Va’aiga backs up to the ropes and comes off for some more speed, the fans leave their seats and stand to get a better view of the ensuing Maori drop... Just as the noise in the Conseco Filedhouse reaches a peak, Va’aiaga leaves his feet, champion in hand...

...SLAMMING HIM DOWN WITH A RUNNING MAORI DROP!!

[Axis] Va’aiga’s going to beat the champion!!!!

[suicide King] Look Spike is up and he’s got a chair!

With chair in hand, Spike jumps to the apron and climbs the ropes...

ONE!

He reaches the tope just in time and quickly leaps off

TWO!

!!!*CCCRRRAAASSSHHH*!!!

[suicide King] UNHOLY CRAP!!! Spike just destroyed Atlas with a flying Van terminator from the top rope!!!

[Axis] And he’s stealing the pin from Va’aiga!!

Pushing Va’aiga away, Spike hooks Sean’s leg for the cover, but the referee doesn’t count...

*DING, DING, DING*

Confused and angry, Jenkins stands and looks at Hall, bewildered as to why no count was made... Then, as Funyon takes up the microphone, his question is answered.

“Your winner, as a result of a Disqualification... The SJL World Champion, SEAAAANNNNN AATTTLLLLAAASSSSS!!!!!”

[Axis] ATLAS WINS! Possibly not in the fashion he’d have liked to. It’s yet another win in SJL champion’s excellent record.

[suicide King] No other wrestler has hit over 80% Wins/Losses. Atlas is a hell of a wrestler and a hell of a guy.

[Axis] All this time, Spike Jenkins has been playing possum. And now he comes back costs Va’aiga and himself the match! What a moron!

[suicide King] But he still pulled off that amazing Top Rope flying Van Terminator...

Spike points to himself again, screaming abuse at Va’aiga. Va’aiga looks at Spike. Va’aiga looks at the chair Spike dropped. Va’aiga looks at Spike again. Spike suddenly realizes what he’s done, with a double take of brilliance and backs off a half step, nearly stumbling over. Va’aiga breathes in slowly, smiles and in one swift motion, grabs the chair and goes after Jenkins!!!

*CRACK*

Va’aiga swats Spike down with the chair, sending the cruiserweight down to the mat with a resounding thud! Atlas meanwhile has composed himself and slid out of the ring. As Va’aiga throws the chair down at Jenkins, he looks around for Sean, but only sees him running off towards the ramp, title belt in hand! The Maori dashes to the ropes, but quickly realizes he has no chance to catch the darting champion.

[Axis] That coward... that good for nothing...

[suicide King] ... CHAMPION. Good Champion, has eluded the threat of Va’aiga and escaped with his title belt in hand!

[Axis] He hightailed it out of here like a yellow-bellied coward!

[suicide King] But he’s STILL the champion!

Enraged, Va’aiga reaches down for Spike and grabs for the Hollywood star, but Spike rolls away and retreats. Va’aiga growls threateningly and looks up at Atlas, pointing a finger at him then making the “I want the belt!!” hand motion. Atlas responds from down the ramp by hugging the belt that’s draped over his shoulder and shaking his head. He checks behind him in case Crow, Dace or even Blackwell shows up, but none do.

[Axis] Sean Atlas may be the champion tonight, but in four days he’ll be facing two men in a triple threat match, stipulation still to be decided!

[suicide King] And he’ll survive even that!

Looking dominant, Va’aiga stands in the ring, angry at the fallen Jenkins at ringside, and furious at the champion for escaping. Atlas, meanwhile, continues to look back at Va’aiga as well as behind him, vulnerable from every direction.

[Axis] Half the league is after his belt, but only two will get a chance to wrench it from his grasps. Find out on Crimson!

Fade out.

SJL -=- SWF

April 21, 2003

Q n' D results!

N00BIE SINGLES MATCH

Charlie "Grappler" Matthews vs. Leo Breslin

>>Matthews, in a good and close n00b match.

David Blazenwing vs. Syndicate

>>Blazenwing blazes back into action with a victory!

>>Duran Duran retains!

Kaine vs. Viktor Tarakanov

>>The evil Communist claims victory for Russia! You know, someone should *probably* tell Vik that the Soviet Union's been broken up for 11 years.

Christian Blackwell vs. Dace Night

>>Gaspage. Best read this, kids.

Crow vs. Tryst

>>Johnny Generic! Damn no-showers.

Sean Atlas vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins & Va'aiga

>>Read, fewls.

Alright. The Card should be up soon, although Thoth will be getting his first crack at SJL booking, as I'm handing the post Wrath/Book Crimson slot over to him. Also, stay tuned to channel Z for a big announcement after Thoth gets the card up...

SJL Wrath, 4-20~!

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