SJL Crimson - April 24th!

[Guest realitycheck]

There is a slight buzz in the United Center, as the crowd chatters and speaks amongst themselves, finding their seats and waiting for Crimson to begin. Abrubtly, the house lights drop and the crowd quiets, as an annoucer's voice speaks... "Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the national anthem!"

 

Funyon steps into the middle of the ring, mic in hand, and begins to sing...

 

 

"Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

 

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?

 

And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

 

O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?"

 

And the crowd bursts into a loud cheer, at that stirring redition of... the Star Spangled Banner, as we fade to the card... (Hah! Fooooooooled you! Thought it'd be something bizzare, eh?)

[Guest realitycheck]

Card:

 

Behold! The booking debut of Thoth! No-show and be put on a bus!

The demon hell busride!

 

THE FIRST MATCH ON THE CARD

Leo Breslin vs Syndicate

Description: Leo Breslin debuted last week! And he lost. So did Syndicate, against David Blazenwing. You know what that means? SOME-one has to win this match. Unless you both no-show. And since you're fairly new, a word of advice. DON'T.

Rules: Normal match. Countout and DQ rules apply.om

 

TELEVISION TITLE MATCH

John Duran© vs. David Blazenwing

Description: Blazenwing recently returned to the JL, and this past Sunday, scored a win over Syndicate to crack a shot at John Duran's TV belt. He?s been defending that thing left and right... is the strain getting to him?

Rules: Normal match. Countout and DQ rules apply.

 

NO-DQ MATCH

Charlie "Grappler" Matthews vs. Viktor Tarakanov

Description: Charlie Matthews impressed a few heads in his debut match. An old-school throwback to the days of yore where sweaty men rubbed against other sweaty men, different in the fact that televisions were smaller back then. His code of honor disallows cheating, but what will he do when the rules allow it? Does Tarakanov have his number? Or does he have the number of the local ice cream store instead?

Rules: Countout and DQ rules do not apply

 

And now, I'd like to announce that there is going to be a world title contendership mini-tournament! The winner of this gets a shot at the title at some point in the future. The first round of matches will be on Crimson, and here are the brackets:

 

Tryst vs Dace Night - Send to Longdogger_Pete

Spike Jenkins vs Manson - Send to WrestlingDeacon

 

All matches have a word limit of 5000, and regular rules apply. The winners will advance to a final singles match on the next card, where the winner will be named the number one contender to the world championship!

 

Good luck you unwashed sons of bitches!

 

WORLD TITLE THREE-WAY 3 MIMUTE ELIMINATION MATCH

Sean Atlas© vs Crow vs Christian Blackwell

Description: The man on a mission: Christian Blackwell.

The gothic warrior: Crow.

The champion: Sean Atlas.

3...

2...

1...

RUSH!

Rules: Normal match, countout and DQ rules apply. The match follows elimination rules: when one man is pinned, or submits or otherwise has a fall scored on him, he is eliminated from the match for three minutes. During that time only two men remain, who then wrestle under normal conditions. If a pinfall is scored during that time, the match is over, and a winner is declared. If the eliminated man tries to interfere, he is ejected from the match.

[Guest realitycheck]

Axis: Ladies and gentlemen, let me welcome you to Crimson, coming to you LIVE from the Windy City! We’re ready for quite a show here tonight, and we’re going to start it off with a match I’m expecting to be pretty damn good for a show opener.

 

King: I can’t disagree with that, Axis. As much as both these guys are… well, losers, especially after last week… they both had decent showings and I’m expecting both of them to go far to get this imperative win.

 

Axis: Exactly. But only one of them can get it. The United Center is jam packed with fans who’re ready for some action, and I can tell you right now they’re going to get it. Here we go, King! You ready?

 

King: Do I have a choice in the matter?

 

Flames shoot up across the stage, brightening the now dark arena as “All My Life” by Foo Fighters starts off. A spotlight emerges from above and stops in the center of the stage, and in it appears Leo Breslin.

 

Funyon: This contest is scheduled for ONE fall. Introducing first… from Cleveland, Ohio and weighing in at 230 pounds… Leooooooo Breeeeeesliiiiiiiiiiiiiin!

 

Axis: Here comes our first competitor, King, and he looks more focused than he did last week.

 

King: Well maybe now he realizes that you don’t need an amazing entrance or a stunning gimmick to win. All you need is wrestling skill.

 

He walks nonchalantly down the ring, not giving much notice to the crowd, most of which isn’t giving much notice to him. Sliding into the ring under the bottom rope, Breslin immediately hops to his feet and begins leaping into the air, meeting the leaping flames, four of which are new ones shooting up from the four corners of the ring.

 

Axis: As our lighting comes back and we await Syndicate’s entrance, let me make it clear that Leo Breslin never thought such things were true. He simply thought he was a better wrestler than Charlie Matthews, and while it’s unfortunate that he lost, it’s better that he realized early on that he is not invincible. That’s something rookies who win commonly seem to think.

 

King: Yeah. You’re not going to see such a mindset in our opening match tonight. Here comes our second loser…

 

“Raise Up” by Saliva hits the speakers as a collection of bright red pyrotechnics shoots up from the stage. Syndicate walks through the weak wall of resulting smoke and sparks. He is much more energetic than Leo Breslin as he recognizes the crowd and manages to get them somewhat riled.

 

Funyon: And his opponent: Coming to us from Portland, Oregon; weighing in at 237 pounds… SYNDICATE!

 

Axis: I think it’s important to point out that Syndicate has a good six inches on Breslin, but isn’t even ten pounds heavier than him. I don’t think size will play as big a role in this match as it did last week when Breslin faced Charlie Matthews.

 

King: Well Syndicate is in that ring and ready for some action as the ref signals for the bell, and he gets it. Breslin seems to be measuring up his opponent again.

 

Axis: He did the same thing with Matthews at Wrath, and it proved helpful.

 

King: Matthews is nothing like Syndicate, from what I can see. He looks much more agile. But if Breslin is anything like he says, he’ll be able to “adapt” to Syndicate.

 

Axis: I believe him when he says that he adapts easily. You don’t get many guys like Matthews in this business today, and the fact that Breslin did what he did in that match speaks volumes for his ability.

 

King: Well if you look at Breslin now he isn’t really measuring Syndicate up as much as he’s creating some tension between the two of them. Breslin looks like he knows what he’s doing.

 

Axis: Not to cut Syndicate or anything, but he has a body type and style similar to many wrestlers. I’m sure Breslin faced someone similar to Syndicate in the independent circuit.

 

King: Syndicate jumps in first… the two men are locked up, and Syndicate pulls Breslin into a headlock. Breslin pushes him off and into the ropes… clothesline… Syndicate comes up and takes another clothesline… up again… Breslin goes at him with a set of punches and pushes him into the ropes… Irish whip… here comes a back body drop and--

 

Axis: Syndicate read that one perfectly! A kick to the face sends Breslin backwards, and it’s followed with a dropkick to the face! That sends Breslin to the ground and he’s being pulled up quickly.

 

This time, Syndicate sends Breslin into the ropes with an Irish whip. Breslin shoots back and tossed into the air by a reinvigorated Syndicate, who turns and catches him on his shoulder then drops him into a samoan drop. Syndicate leaps to his feet and rushes to the turnbuckle. He climbs to the top and takes only a few seconds before he jumps off and drops an elbow into Breslin’s chest.

 

Axis: Syndicate calls the maneuver you just saw the Broken Arrow.

 

King: Yeah, and if that didn’t manage to break Breslin that elbow sure did. Syndicate is going for an early cover here… and Breslin kicks out at two. Smart move by Syndicate, Axis?

 

Axis: Hey, ya never know… that may have ended the match. Syndicate just doesn’t want to lost the opportunity to wrap this match up quickly.

 

Syndicate hurriedly pulls Breslin up, not taking time to argue with the referee or cover again. He performs a quick snap suplex, grounding Breslin again. Strolling around the ring, Syndicate waits for Breslin to come up, and when he does, an arm is grabbed and he’s tossed across the ring. Breslin ducks a clothesline, hits the opposite ropes, and comes back just in time to take down Syndicate with a bulldog.

 

King: Breslin has his arm wrapped around Syndicate’s neck, and he’s standing up in that position. Running towards the corner… legs up… into the turnbuckle… springboards off… floats around… another bulldog, packing ten times the impact!

 

Axis: I never would’ve expected that from a man like Syndicate. But if you think about it, it only shows off that he really is well-rounded. That’s a move that many men can pull off, but Syndicate performed it very well considering his size.

 

King: I don’t think Syndicate was prepared for it.

 

Taking some of the impact himself causes Breslin to rise to his feet a bit slower than usual. He pulls up Syndicate by his hair. Quickly, out of just about nowhere, Breslin places his hands on Syndicate’s hips, lifts him up, spins him around, and drops him onto his back as he drops himself onto his bottom.

 

King: Sky High, and Breslin isn’t moving. He’s draping his arm over Syndicate for the pin and… one… two… TH--No, he didn’t get it! The referee is signaling a two-count, and Breslin isn’t arguing it.

 

Axis: He has no reason to argue it. The referee counted evenly and fairly, and Syndicate simply had the heart and the strength to kick out. And Breslin is continuing steadfastly, bringing Syndicate to his feet faster than he probably should be. Irish whip… Syndicate tossed over his shoulders and onto his back!

 

King: Look at Syndicate though, Axis! He’s getting up and… Breslin’s got his head between his arm and his side… up for a suplex… he’s stalling! All that blood is rushing to Syndicate’s head. I know from experience that it sucks to be in that position. It’s hard to focus while you’re up there and after you drop.

 

Axis: Breslin turns a bit… and down he goes, slamming Syndicate into the mat! His head hit pretty hard, it looks. And Breslin is once again going for a quick pin right out of a big move. This could be it.

 

Some of the crowd counts along with the referee, but they get halfway through three when Syndicate kicks out with unexpected authority. Breslin shakes his head in frustration. He pulls Syndicate up for the nth time and irish whips him again. Leo sticks his arm out for a brisk clothesline, but Syndicate ducks underneath. His hands rise up and find Breslin’s head. Back to back, Syndicate drops first, bringing Breslin down with him, delivering a neckbreaker.

 

King: Like lighting! And just like that the match is seemingly even. No man has an advantage.

 

Axis: That’s right. Both men are getting up at an equal pace. I’d say whoever gets ahead here stays ahead. Contact is made between both men with the eyes. Breslin throws a punch… blocked! Syndicate throws one… ducked… Breslin is behind him. His arms hook around the waist… up… over… German suplex! And Breslin isn’t stoppin’ there!

 

King: He’s pulling Syndicate up for another one… and he gets it off, but this time it’s a release.

 

Moving in for the apparent kill, Breslin lifts up Syndicate’s legs and places them at his side, hooking them in place with either arm. Syndicate won’t be taken that easily, and he escapes the oncoming submission maneuver by weaseling his legs free and shoving Breslin back with his feet. Syndicate hurries to his feet as much as possible, and he’s in the perfect position to send a hard shoulder into a rushing Breslin. Keeping the shoulder impacted in Breslin’s midsection, Syndicate stands up, hoisting Breslin onto his shoulder. Syndicate measures correctly and drops onto his back. Breslin’s face meets the top turnbuckle and he stumbles to the mat in a heap.

 

Axis: OH! That could have knocked Breslin out!

 

King: He’s still moving, moron. But he’s seemingly lost focus, which is never good.

 

Axis: And Syndicate has once again taken this match for his own, and he’s stalking a weakened Breslin.

 

King: Up Breslin comes thanks to Syndicate. Did you ever realize how often these guys help each other up? You think they’d be recognized for their kindness one of these days. And Syndicate tossing Breslin into the ropes kind of resembles him helping an old man cross the street.

 

Axis: Shut up.

 

The Irish whip from Syndicate turns out to be a bad move. On his way back, Breslin squats down and leaps forward like a bullet, this time giving Syndicate a shoulder to the midsection in the form of a spear. Syndicate is taken down and then mounted by Breslin, who continues the onslaught by delivering a collection of punches to the man underneath him. Breslin relents, getting to his feet and bringing Syndicate with him. He brings Syndicate onto his shoulders, quickly applying a painful torture rack.

 

King: Now you know this move is very basic and very easy to perform, but it gets the job done when you want to weaken your opponent significantly and perhaps earn a submission.

 

Axis: Breslin looks tired himself though, which makes me wonder if he’s giving the full effect to Syndicate.

 

King: Well either way Breslin is keeping it on and--oh, so he’s not! Breslin just turned that torture rack into a stomach crusher over his knees! I’m surprised he had what it take to lift Syndicate over his head and drop him onto his knees… so fluent that was.

 

Axis: Breslin has shown us an array of offense thus far, and he doesn’t seem to be slowing no matter what Syndicate throws at him.

 

King: And if you’ll remember what else we’ve seen, Syndiate isn’t slowing either

 

Breslin opts to not go for another pin attempt. Instead he gets him and looks across the arena, foolishly checking to see if the crowd is paying attention. Some are, and some aren’t. After all, it is the first match on the card. Refocusing on Syndicate, Breslin pulls him up and puts him onto his shoulders again. He holds Syndicate in place for a few seconds.

 

King: Breslin looks like he’s going for the first step in the Leo Combo… a death valley driver into a super camel clutch!

 

Axis: The concept seems amazing and I can’t wait to see it pulled off as… as Syndicate unexpectedly rolls off… down Breslin’s back… he grabs his arms and pulls him down… pin! One… TWO… THR--Breslin got out! He was NOT expecting that. Syndicate is getting up along with Breslin an… Syndicate gets a kick into the midsection… DDT!

 

King: Syndicate is apparently continuing this slow and calculating offense on Breslin. He’s got him up and his head between his legs and… holy shit that was a fast piledriver!

 

Axis: It sure was, and Breslin is favoring that neck that just went up and down like a spring.

 

Breslin is brought up again. Syndicate puts him in a doubled-over position and hooks both his arms over his back. Lifting Breslin up, Syndicate suddenly flips Breslin over and drops him onto one of his own knees, completing the double-arm backbreaker. Breslin rolls about on the mat, favoring his spine.

 

Axis: Syndicate is definitely one of those guys who delivers potent moves whenever possible. The great thing is that he doesn’t do them slowly, and it doesn’t slow him down as a result. He’s got the build and the ability to keep it coming and keep his opponent at bay… most of the time.

 

King: And with that, Syndicate is going to continue his ownership of Breslin, tossing his new toy around!

 

Axis: Syndicate should wrap this up shortly.

 

King: Not yet. I want to see what he’s got in store next! By the look on his face, it’s gonna be a doosie!

 

Syndicate pulls Breslin up and squeezes his head between his legs. Proceeding without taking a moment to collect himself, Syndicate wraps his arms around Breslin’s waist and lifts him with simplicity. He has him sitting on his shoulders for a few second. Syndicate is finally ready for the next step, and he tosses Breslin off, but catches his head and pulls him down face first instead, busting his mug into the hard unforgiving ring. Getting to his feet, Syndicate pumps up, riling the crowd and perhaps indicating an oncoming finish.

 

King: Syndicate is absolutely dominating right now. And to think… moments ago he was in a torture rack.

 

Axis: Everything Breslin has gone through is getting to him. Look at him. He can’t walk, for God’s sake.

 

Breslin is slowly recuperating after Syndicate’s Blackout, but he isn’t given much time. While stumbling about the ring, Breslin is caught by a Syndicate, who looks to have found a new buoyancy and optimism. He pulls Breslin to the center of the ring. Taking his time, Syndicate grabs Breslin and hoists him onto his right shoulder. Attempting to lower him down, Syndicate is surprised and sent off-balance when Breslin slides off and turns around, putting his back to Syndicates. His hands find Syndicate’s armpits and he’s able to lift him up. Breslin extends his arms fully. Syndicate is dropped hard onto his back.

 

King: Breslin just pulled a razor’s edge from his ass!

 

Axis: And before Syndicate even has a chance to realize just HOW much momentum he lost, the Breslin Deluxe is complete. As Syndicate’s legs dropped down to the mat, Breslin grabbed then and pretty much has his opponent flipped over, and is applying full pressure! Syndicate looks like a pretzel!

 

King: Hmm… actually reminds me more of a banana, but whatever. Either way Syndicate is trying to get to the ropes, but Breslin has such a strong base that it’ll be hard for Syndicate to move even a few inches.

 

Axis: And the worst part is that Syndicate was the one who brought the action to the center of the ring. Breslin is the one taking advantage of it! Ironic…

 

King: I’ve never seen the Breslin Deluxe performed before, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say it was executed perfectly. From what I can see Syndicate is going nowhere.

 

Axis: His face is showing off the strain and the pain that must be felt through most of Syndicate’s body. He’s turned red and is squinting and screaming and begging.

 

King: I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I honestly thought Syndicate was going to wrap this one up.

 

Axis: Look at that, King! Syndicate is moving and he’s making significant progress! Breslin is putting just about all his strength into hurting Syndicate. Perhaps he forget to keep his base strong.

 

King: I knew Syndicate had it in him! This guy has the full package! He’s at the ropes and… NO! Breslin just pulled him back to the center of the ring with a sudden rush of strength. He’s increasing the pressure… pulling just a little more… and you can see it and hear it in Syndicate’s face and voice!

 

Axis: Syndicate is trying to make his way to that rope one more time… and he seems to be simultaneously attempting to use his legs to push Breslin down or reverse it or anything… Syndicate is looking for anything to help him right now and--

 

King: It’s over! IT’S OVER! Syndicate just tapped and the referee is calling for the bell. Breslin hears it and immediately lets go.

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen… the winner of this bout… Leooooooo Breeeeeeesliiiiiiiiiiin!

 

Axis: Syndicate just couldn’t take it anymore. He tried all he could, and in the end he made the only logical choice. He should feel no shame in losing this match up.

 

King: Sure he should. He lost for cryin’ out loud.

 

Axis: That doesn’t matter. I think Breslin realizes that he could have lost this match with one bad move. But he played his cards right and he has prevailed.

 

As Syndicate recovers, attempting to rise to his feet with the help of the ropes and the now referee, Leo Breslin gives him a final glance and exits the ring, his music starting up.

 

Axis: We’ll be right back, folks. Crimson has only just begun!

[Guest realitycheck]

Axis: "King, the next match on this jam packed card is sure to be an impressive one!"

 

King: "Oh come on. When the match is between John Duran and David Blazenwing, you can be sure that John Duran is the only man who will keep you awake during this one."

 

Axis: "It can be agreed upon that John Duran has become quite the unpopular one with the fans in his relatively short stint with the SJL, I'll readily agree to that."

 

King: "The fans just don't understand what he's fighting for."

 

Axis: "Not quite, King. We know that he's fighting for the late Randy Turner, a wrestler in the SJL who had tons and tons of potential. The problem is, John Duran is honoring his lost friend in all the wrong ways. You've seen the matches, King. Duran has cheated his way to the SJL Television Title, and he has cheated his way through most of his SJL career."

 

King: "Cheating? I like to call it getting ahead in a match, thank you very much. Besides, Duran lives by the saying "Sin To Win." What do you expect from an upstanding young man like that?"

 

Axis: "I expect him to show a little bit more dignity in the ring considering what he's fighting for."

 

King: "Shut your trap already. Let's get these introductions going."

 

The camera fades to Funyon, looking spiffy as usual, taking another big deep breath before beginning the introductions.

 

Funyon: "This next match is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SJL TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!"

 

Once Funyon goes silent, the lights go out in the United Center, and all is silent for a brief moment until David Blazenwing's voice booms out over the loudspeakers.

 

Blazenwing: "It's time to feel the Full Effect!"

 

"The Game" by Motorhead kicks in, the crowd getting to their feet and cheering "The Full Effect," the lights flashing back on in the arena as Blazenwing makes his entrance, throwing up the Blazenwing sign. Some members of the audience join him in the sign, and David then drops the sign, igniting the stage in an impressive series of pyros.

 

Funyon: "Introducing first, hailing from Oak Creek, Wisconsin, weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds, he is "The Full Effect"...David BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZENWINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!"

 

The crowd continues to cheer as Blazenwing walks down to the ring, slapping hands with some of the fans as he nears the ring, sliding into the ring and going to the first of four turnbuckles to get the crowd riled up.

 

Axis: "King, I just realized that in all our talk about John Duran, we have forgotten about David Blazenwing and his impressive comeback after only a few shows away from the SJL."

 

King: "He's not the one with the TV Title, though."

 

As SK and Axis converse, Blazenwing reaches the last of the four turnbuckles, getting one last pop before turning around and having a seat on the top turnbuckle, "The Game" fading out.

 

As soon as "Sinner" by Drowning Pool kicks in, the crowd erupts in boos as John Duran makes his entrance, with the SJL Television Title wrapped around his waist. Duran points to it, showing off to the crowd once again.

 

Funyon: "And his opponent, from Champaign, Illinois, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds, he is the SJL Television Champion, JOHN DURRRRRRRRANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

 

Duran begins to walk down to the ring, the usual smug look seemingly surgically stuck on his face, almost strutting down to the ring. John enters the ring and removes the belt, giving it to referee Sexton Hardcastle, glaring at David Blazenwing and then settling down into the mood for the match, warming himself up a bit.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Both competitors move towards each other, apprehensive at first. As they near each other, both men are thinking the same thing and go for a lock up. Duran is in control, whipping Blazenwing into the ropes. As David comes back, Duran goes for a clothesline, but Blazenwing ducks it, going back into the ropes. John goes for a clothesline again this time, getting a running start, but Blazenwing dodges it again. This time, however, Blazenwing slows down, stopping his momentum and turning around to face Duran, who is spinning around, ready to get Blazenwing again. Noticing David right in front of him, however, Duran is surprised and unable to react again as Blazenwing hits Duran with a right jab, the crowd cheering as David follows it up with another right, and another right, sending John reeling backwards. Blazenwing hits a left hook, which almost knocks Duran off balance, and then hits John with an uppercut. The uppercut knocks John down to the mat, the crowd cheering on David after that series of punches.

 

Axis: "Blazenwing getting off to a brutal start in this match, as it seems Blazenwing might be trying to knock out the champion instead of pin him!"

 

King: "Too bad this isn't boxing. Though I bet Duran could still crush Blazenwing in boxing."

 

Axis: "Blazenwing is the one doing the crushing early in the match, King."

 

King: "Counting out John Duran so early? Such a shame."

 

After the combination of punches from Blazenwing, Duran is slow getting to his feet. Duran is able to get on all fours before David grabs John and drags him up to his feet the rest of the way. Once John is upright, Blazenwing sends him into the ropes. Duran bounces off the ropes and comes hurdling back towards the challenger. When John is close enough, Blazenwing jumps up and crashes onto Duran, sending the champion right back down to the mat with a Lou Thesz Press. Blazenwing quickly follows it with some right hands, the crowd cheering David on as he pummels Duran on the mat. Blazenwing gets to his feet and raises his arms after beating the hell out of Duran, the crowd popping for David.

 

Axis: "King, the beginning of this match has stunned me! In the time that Blazenwing has been gone, it seems that he has become quite the formidable foe for John Duran!"

 

King: "Come on, you know it's too early in the match to be thinking that. When Duran gets on the offensive, you can bet that he's going to shut down that idiot Blazenwing."

 

John is quicker to his feet this time, though compared to the last time he was down on the mat, that's not saying much. Blazenwing confronts Duran, giving the still stunned champion a hard kick to the midsection. The kick knocks the wind out of John, as he immediately falls to his knees. Blazenwing follows this up with a hard kick to the side which connects with John's arm, Duran quickly going to the source of the pain and holding it, making David wind up his right leg this time.

 

OOH!

 

Blazenwing's leg strikes the right side of Duran, sending Duran down to the mat once again. The crowd is now fully behind Blazenwing, as it seems that he is in complete control of this match, at least early on. Blazenwing moves over to Duran again, going to pick up Duran once again to continue the roll that the challenger is currently on. David brings Duran to his feet, but Duran pops up out of nowhere, nailing Blazenwing with a hard clothesline that sends the challenger down to the mat, and also sends the crowd into a chorus of boos that ring through the United Center.

 

King: "Bwahahahahahahahahaha! The tables have turned!"

 

Duran showboats to the crowd after that maneuver, the crowd not liking this turn of events, and showing it by booing the hell out of Duran. Blazenwing, having been on fire early in the match, is quickly back to his feet. John is right there, however, clotheslining David right back down to the mat. David hits the mat but quickly springs right back up to his feet, forcing Duran to connect with a 3rd clothesline. However, Blazenwing is running on pure adrenaline at this point. David is quick to his feet once again, but Duran is poised and ready, bending down, the crowd expecting the spear as they begin to boo again. Duran goes through the motions of a spear, but instead lifts Blazenwing up towards the lights and drives him right back down with a spinebuster, the force of the move shaking the ring.

 

King: "Ha! I bet he felt the 'Full Effect' of that move!"

 

Axis: "Duran is going for the first cover in this matchup!"

 

Sexton Hardcastle swings around to count the first pinfall in the match...

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

The crowd cheers as Blazenwing kicks out at the count of two. Duran keeps his cool and simply brings David back to his feet, throwing Blazenwing into the ropes. As David rebounds off the ropes, John angles down, catching Blazenwing and cradling him in his arms, sending David up and over, slamming "The Full Effect" down with a devastating powerslam. Duran quickly gets to his feet and signals for the Break Point.

 

King: "This is it! It seems like déjà vu from Duran's last match with Terry Wayne! Short, yet very, very sweet!"

 

Duran stands behind Blazenwing, taunting him, waiting for him to get up, preparing to lock on the Full Nelson. As David gets to his feet, Duran approaches him from behind and gets one of Blazenwing's arms locked. However, Blazenwing twists and turns, restless, escaping from the Full Nelson before Duran can get it locked on and turn it into a Full Nelson bomb. Blazenwing goes behind Duran, turning the tables and locking his arms around the waist of the SJL Television champion. David then somehow lifts Duran off his feet, falling backwards as Duran travels with him.

 

OOH!

 

Duran's head is drilled into the mat with a German suplex, the crowd going nuts as Duran bounces off the mat slightly before slumping down to the canvas.

 

Axis: "So much for this match being over, eh King?"

 

King: "Shut up..."

 

Axis: "In fact, if I'm not mistaken, it looks like Blazenwing is back in control of this match!"

 

King: "I'm seriously going to punch you in your stupid Aussie face."

 

Blazenwing gets to his feet easily, but the victim of Blazenwing's German suplex is not so quick to get to his feet. David goes over to John and grabs his legs, stepping in between them, the crowd already getting on their feet and cheering at this very familiar move.

 

Axis: "SHARPSHOOTER! SHARPSHOOTER!"

 

King: "...You're such a tool, you know that? Go to your shed or something."

 

Blazenwing crosses Duran's legs over David's one stepped-in leg, swinging over to his right and sending Duran onto his stomach as Blazenwing leans back, locking in a Sharpshooter close to the middle of the ring. Duran immediately begins squirming, the crowd cheering as they watch Duran struggle to even move from his present position towards the ropes.

 

Axis: "King, I don't know if Duran will be able to make it to the ropes!"

 

King: "He'll make it, he'll make it!"

 

The crowd begins to silence up a bit as they notice that Duran is getting close to the ropes. Blazenwing tries to drag Duran back to the ring, but Duran refuses to be moved back into the center of the ring, clawing his way towards the ropes, shaking his head when Sexton Hardcastle leans in to ask if he's had enough. Duran lunges out with his right arm, slightly brushing the rope. He takes one more dig and inches forward, lunging again...and grasping the bottom rope. The crowd immediately erupts into boos as Hardcastle tells Blazenwing to break the hold. David is almost as disappointed as the crowd is that Duran managed to break the hold, but Blazenwing, determined, moves over to John and brings him to his feet. David then kicks John in the midsection, locking on a side headlock when John bends over, running forwards and driving John's head into the mat with a bulldog. When David gets to his feet, he throws up the Blazenwing sign.

 

Axis: "Is Blazenwing calling for the end here?"

 

Duran rolls over on his back, and Blazenwing bounces off the ropes, running up to Duran and getting some air before hitting the Full Effect Leg Drop on Duran. The crowd explodes with cheers, as Blazenwing goes for the cover on Duran.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-OHHH! HE KICKED OUT!

 

Duran barely manages to get a shoulder up, but he does, as the Full Effect Leg Drop can only muster a 2.66666666 count. Blazenwing is in utter disbelief.

 

Axis: "How much is it going to take to bring the Television champ down?"

 

King: "No one is going to bring John Duran down! Duran is the man!"

 

Blazenwing decides to rethink his strategy, as Duran slowly gets to his feet from the Full Effect Leg Drop. Once Duran gets to his feet and turns around, David throws a right hand at John, but John gets an arm up, blocking it and hitting a right hand of is own, stunning Blazenwing briefly, but long enough for Duran to whip Blazenwing into the turnbuckle. Duran then gets in position, the crowd booing, but some standing to watch as Duran charges, hunched over, driving into Blazenwing with a sick spear, Duran's shoulder slamming into David's abs, almost sending Blazenwing down to the mat in pain. However, Duran keeps his challenger upright, hoisting him up onto the top turnbuckle.

 

Axis: "Oh no. He's going to go for the Crash Landing on Blazenwing!"

 

King: "Get ready for a big rumble when these two hit the mat..."

 

Duran gets under Blazenwing and tries to hoist him up onto the champ's shoulders, but David blocks the attempt and pushes Duran off the top rope, Duran falling to the mat relatively close to the turnbuckle, the crowd cheering as Duran hits the ground.

 

Axis: "The attempt is reversed!"

 

King: "Very observant. You do realize we're on TV, right?"

 

The only problem is, Blazenwing doesn't get off the top rope. He stands upright on the top rope, most of the crowd cheering and getting out of their cameras, already snapping pictures as Blazenwing prepares to take flight.

 

King: "What the...?"

 

David leaps off the top, hitting a splash on Duran, the ring looking like an earthquake is hitting it as the big 280-pound man lands on the champion. Blazenwing automatically goes for the cover as Sexton Hardcastle swings around to make the count.

 

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-OHHH! DURAN KICKS OUT AGAIN!

 

Axis: "What the hell just happened? Did I see what I thought I just saw."?

 

King: "Well, what do you know? Pigs can fly."

 

The crowd is still stirring after the big splash from the top rope from Blazenwing, but the match is still moving on, even after all of that. David gets to his feet and then bounces off the ropes, bringing his knee up to drop it on Duran who is still down on the mat, but Duran moves, as Blazenwing jabs his knee into the mat, the crowd suddenly finding themselves booing again as Duran gets to his feet. David follows shortly after, John waiting patiently, and then striking as David turns around, slapping a hand around the throat of his challenger and lifting him up, supporting Blazenwing with his left hand as Duran drives David into the mat with a chokeslam, following up by hooking the leg for a cover.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-NO!

 

Blazenwing kicks out! Now it's Duran's turn to be amazed, as both of these men have been put through so much. Duran quickly brings Blazenwing to his feet. However, David clotheslines John as David gets to his feet, sending John staggering into the ropes. As John comes back, he gets a kick to the gut from Blazenwing, as he lifts the champion up and brings him down quickly with a not-quite piledriver, Blazenwing too exhausted to bring Duran all the way up, but the move having the same effect, Duran's head driving into the mat.

 

After that move, Duran is slow getting back to his feet, Blazenwing having used his power to stun the champion.

 

Axis: "King, care to change your prediction?"

 

King: "No way, Duran's got it all under control!"

 

As Duran, dazed, gets to his feet, he turns around, Blazenwing charging at him with all the speed the two hundred and seventy pound man can muster. Blazenwing lifts up his boot, looking to connect with Duran's face, but Duran reacts just in time, sidestepping the move. Blazenwing's momentum swings him around in the opposite direction, and Duran, now behind David, locks on the Full Nelson, the crowd suddenly beginning to rain down boos.

 

Axis: "Wait, what just happened?"

 

King: "Blazenwing got outsmarted! Bwhahahahahahahaha!"

 

Duran clenches in the Full Nelson, and uses all of his strength to bring the slightly heavier Blazenwing up, gravity taking in from there and driving Blazenwing down to the mat, the two big men shaking the ring as Duran hits David with a Full Nelson bomb. John wastes no time and leans back, the crowd continuing to boo, some of the crowd beginning a chant.

 

...DURAN SUCKS

DURAN SUCKS

DURAN SUCKS

DURAN SUCKS...

 

John ignores the crowd's insults, locking on the body scissors and clinching in the Break Point. Duran has a very serious look on his face as he tightens the hold, Sexton Hardcastle checking on Blazenwing, making sure that David is still in the match.

 

Axis: "Blazenwing can't give up! He has to recover, take advantage of this one shot at the SJL Television Title!"

 

King: "He's got him in the Break Point, there's no hope for him anymore!"

 

Axis: "The Break Point is not an unbreakable hold, King, there are ways out of it."

 

King: "You tend not to think when you've got a two hundred and sixty five pound man stretching and crushing your body."

 

David seems to be in pain as John stretches his limits in the Break Point, tightening the hold bit by bit, Blazenwing seemingly reaching the threshold of pain time after time after time. However, as Sexton Hardcastle checks on David and asks if he gives, Blazenwing's response of "NO!" is clear as day. Some of the crowd tries to get behind him, cheering him on. Finally, after almost a minute and a half in the Break Point, Duran finally breaks it, the crowd busting out into cheers.

 

Axis: "Why did Duran break the Break Point?"

 

King: "I have no idea..."

 

Duran gets to his feet, not even waiting for Blazenwing, who is still on the ground in pain, to get back up, dragging David up to his feet. Duran calls for the end again, and David, dazed, has no time to react as John drills him in the gut with a kick, doubling David over. John quickly moves behind David, and bends down, putting an arm under Blazenwing.

 

King: "He's going for the Rise and Fall!"

 

Axis: "But how? Blazenwing is easily 10-20 pounds heavier!"

 

King: "I think Duran wants to win so badly, that no longer matters. Call it second wind if you must, but Duran is pissed."

 

John stands back upright, Blazenwing straddled up on his right shoulder, Duran supporting the hefty Blazenwing with his left hand on David's back. The crowd boos as John looks at the crowd with that smug look for a brief moment, quickly turning serious and turning his body to the left. The bottom then drops out on Blazenwing, Duran pushing down with his right arm to make the impact all the more intense. The Rise and Fall connects, David's body slamming hard against the mat, which sends the crowd into a mixture of "Ooh"s from the force of the move and boos for their contempt of John Duran.

 

Axis: "I honestly don't know if Blazenwing can kick out of this one, folks."

 

King: "He's not going to! Duran's going to the PPV as the champion!"

 

Duran covers Blazenwing, as Sexton Hardcastle swings around to make the count, most of the crowd booing now.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

The crowd's boos continue and even intensify as Duran quickly snaps back up to his feet, showboating to the crowd again as Sexton goes to get the TV Title from the timekeeper.

 

Funyon: "Here is your winner, and STILL SJL TELEVISION CHAMPION, JOHN DURRRRANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

 

Sexton hands the TV Title to Duran, Duran continuing to show off to the crowd as the crowd just simply continues to boo him.

 

King: "Bwahahaha! I told you Duran would win!"

 

Axis: "He did win, King, but it took a Break Point and then a Rise and Fall to put down Blazenwing. He put up a hell of a fight, and you can bet that he's going to be a rising star in the near future."

 

King: "Blah, blah, blah. All that matters is that when the PPV rolls around, that TV Title is still going to be around the waist of one man: John Duran."

[Guest realitycheck]

Axis: Alright wrestling fans, we’re back with more exciting action on SJL Crimson! Our next match is sure going to be... interesting. On one side we’ve got “The Red Rage” Viktor Tarakanov: big, mean, and the number one contender for Christian Blackwell’s European title. And on the other side we’ve got Charlie “Grappler” Mathews, who turned a lot of heads with his debut on Wrath.

 

King: So many heads in fact, that the Creative Control want to see what this guy can do so badly, they put him against Tarakanov. That’s one way to test your mettle.

 

Axis: And to make this match even more interesting, they made it no-DQ. I’m sure that Tarakanov will take nicely to the change in environment but how will the “Grappler” react? He’s said himself... well... his manager, James Matheson has said that Charlie doesn’t believe in cheating. We’ll just have to see if he’ll change his strategy when the rules allow cheating.

 

King: How can someone not believe in cheating? This is like telling a child there is no Santa Claus, Axis. As shocking and earth shattering as this is... I have got to commend Charlie Mathews for doing something so... monumental!

 

Funyon steps into the ring with all his usual flash and charm and with a big smile on his face, eager to either announce the match or eager to get the match over. “Ladies and gentlemen... this bout is scheduled for ONE fall and is under no disqualification rules! Introducing first... he weighs in tonight at two hundred and eighty pounds... hailing from Astrakhan, Russia... he is ‘The Red Rage’ Viktor TARAKAAANOOOV!!”

 

A massive red pyro erupts on the stage accompanied by the loud opening chord of the “Soviet National Anthem” as sung by the Red Army Choir. As the stage clears, Viktor Tarakanov steps through the curtain and is immediately met with boos from the crowd. A minute smirk on his face, “The Red Rage” marches down the entrance ramp, grasping his wrist and fist, checking on how tight his tape is. Walking slowly to the steel steps, he is wary of any fans who would dare to spit on him again. Luckily for him, none dare to do so, allowing him to enter the ring drier than he was last week. Wiping his boots off, he enters the ring slowly as his music fades.

 

Axis: The fans may have thought twice about spitting on Tarakanov after seeing what he did to Kaine last week.

 

King: Hell, I know I would. He powerbombed Kaine on the hood of a car THREE TIMES!! Kaine was in so much pain that he asked for this week off! I wouldn’t want to spit on any man who could do that!

 

Charlie “Grappler” Mathews and James Matheson begin to emerge from the back and Funyon picks up his mic again, speaking excitedly. “And his opponent... weighing in at...” “WAAAIIIT just one minute!” The Master of the Mic is cut off by James Matheson whose screechy voice causes everyone to stop and hold their ears. Matheson raises his own mic to his face as he jogs down the ramp to the ring, leaving Charlie on the stage grinning.

 

Axis: Oh no, not this again!

 

“Funyon, you pencil necked geek, didn’t we tell you how to do your job last week?” says the man in the vibrant purple suit as he climbs in the ring. “Apparently you didn’t pick up on it. When introducing the ‘Grappler’ you had best introduce him right! Now, I’m gonna go back up the ramp and me and Charlie are gonna come out again, only this time, with a PROPER introduction!” Matheson gives Funyon the most intimidating look he can manage before hopping out of the ring and running back up the ramp to his managee.

 

King: Well, Mathews doesn’t seem to want any sort of pomp and circumstance for his entrance. Just straight up, old fashioned, coming down to the ring!

 

Mathews and Matheson retreat behind the curtain again as the crowd begins to boos for the long and drawn out entrance. They emerge as quickly as they left and Funyon is lowered a mic from the ceiling. He grabs it and says in his most monotone voice “His opponent, weighing in at a shade under three hundred pounds, accompanied by James Matheson, he is Charlie ‘Grappler’ Mathews... Mathews.”

 

As the manager and wrestler walk down to the ring, the fans boo at the old-school duo, not appreciating their antics. Seemingly oblivious of the crowd, the two continue their walk to the ring, taking their sweet time. After finally reaching the ring, Matheson ascends the steel steps first, walking along the apron to the middle of the ring. Charlie does the same and Matheson holds down the second rope, allowing his wrestler to step through with more ease. There are scattered shouts of “BLOWJOB!!” from the fans but they aren’t heard by manager and wrestler.

 

DING!! DING!! DING!!

 

Axis: These two are starting to make me sick! Talk about arrogance, these two demanded that Funyon re-do their entrance.

 

King: Hey, sometimes you’ve got to keep that tacky idiot in line.

 

Suicide King throws a crumpled up piece of paper at an unsuspecting Funyon, who reacts with as much surprise as the Swiss to an invasion.

 

Charlie tells James quickly not to interfere but he shrugs it off with a half-attentive nod. Matheson is a bit slow in leaving the ring, telling a few last minute instructions to Mathews. His pace is at least too slow for Tarakanov’s taste, as is evident by the big Russian charging the ropes, hitting Mathews with an elbow to the face and knocking Matheson off the ring apron. Mathews is relatively unaffected by the elbow and after shaking it off, counters with a big right hand to Viktor’s face. Tarakanov throws a big right of his own to his opponent, but is denied and gets hammered back with another right hand.

 

 

Enough of a blow to knock Viktor back, “Grappler” quickly capitalizes and grabs his opponent’s arm. He uses his muscle to whip Tarakanov towards the opposite direction but switches things up and pulls the big man back and slams him to the ground with a slow, short-arm clothesline. Not about ready to stay down while facing a man called “Grappler“, Viktor quickly gets back up to his feet, daring Charlie to try again. Mathews happily obliges and swings at Tarakanov, but instead of hitting him with a clothesline or grabbing his arm to whip him, Mathews... locks arms with his opponent.

 

Axis: And so the “Grappler” lives up to his name, locking arms with Tarakanov. You’ve got to wonder how Charlie is gonna fare against a man near as big as himself.

 

King: Well, normally facing a wrestler almost as big as yourself, you’d have to use a different strategy. Not Mathews though, his style of wrestling is more favored to fighting other big men. Not that he’d have any problem with a cruiser!

 

The two men try and bring the other down, using all of their might to force the other into submission. For a while, all their grunting and pushing back and forth seems to have the two men evenly matched strength-wise. Though soon we see the lock-up favoring the grappler, more experienced at combating against a big man for long periods of time. The “Grappler” finally takes complete control of the lock-up and sneaks in a quick punch to Viktor’s nose, stunning him for long enough to allow Mathews to wrap his arms around his victim and slam him to the ground with a side belly-to-belly suplex.

 

Not allowing his opponent to stay down unattended, Mathews crouches down immediately and picks him up, resting his dazed body on his knee. With much drama and spectacle, Charlie Mathews does what he does best... and throws on a chinlock. James Matheson instantly starts to clap and shout praise to the “Grappler” as the fans boo in annoyance the dull move. Slightly puzzled by the lack of positive response from the crowd as a result of the impressive maneuver, Charlie simply starts to squeeze harder, sure that the fans’ boos will instantly fade if he executes the move properly.

 

Axis: What? Of all the things he could have done to Tarakanov... he chooses to apply a chinlock.

 

King: Well just look at Viktor’s face Axis! He’s fading from consciousness. It seems to be working to me!

 

Unfortunately the crowd’s boos do subside, but not on account of the chinlock; the fans are simply bored. Tarakanov’s red face suddenly springs to life, and his arms begin to struggle, throwing elbow after elbow behind him. Using any method to dislodge himself, Viktor slowly begins to rise, showing Charlie’s grip slipping. Finally on his feet, “The Red Rage” dislodges the vice-like arms of Mathews, who responds by pushing Viktor forward and into the ropes. Responding, Tarakanov bounces off the ropes and charges forward with a roar and leaps forward at Mathews and drills his shoulder into the gut of Charlie.

 

The force of the impact is such that it knocks Mathews into the ropes and subsequently between the top and second rope, hitting his back on the ring apron as he falls to the “protective” mats outside the ring. Viktor is close to follow, his own momentum allowing his body to sail outside as well. The excited crowd buzzes as they wait to see what carnage will ensue when both men rise. The men lay on the ground, catching their breath, watching each other to see who rises first. Viktor begins to rise and Charlie is soon to follow. With both men on their feet and James Matheson squealing orders from a safe distance, the eager crowd awaits the mayhem that will ensue when they attack.

 

Axis: This is a highly volatile situation here, King. It could explode at any second!

 

King: Like lighting a match by you after you’ve eaten Taco Bell, no doubt.

 

Both men stand, flexing their muscles in silent intimidation, waiting for the other to move. Finally there is motion as Viktor grins and nods at Mathews.

 

 

There is again no motion.

 

 

Until...

 

 

Both men turn and get back in the ring.

 

 

Axis: WHAT?!

 

King: HA!! I knew it! They may be each other’s opponents, and they may be being paid to pound the piss out of each other, but there’s ONE thing that makes them agree: The fans don't deserve to see a fight out of the ring!

 

Axis: It seems you’re right King. Both men seemed to have agreed not to give the fans a show by duking it out outside the ring. Apparently, neither man is going to use the no-DQ rule at any rate.

 

The fans spread an afghan of boos over the two wrestlers as they roll back in the ring at their own individual paces. The crowd certainly wasn’t expecting these two big, tough guys to decline the stipulation and displays their disapproval VERY vocally. Back in the ring, both fighters begins to circle each other. Eyeing each other up, both have seen a bit of what the other can do, now they prepare to fully engage in combat. Viktor is the first to move as he throws a hard right hand square in the chest of Mathews. The heart punch knocks the “Grappler” backwards a step, and causes him to clutch at his chest.

 

Astonishingly, Charlie Mathews steps back forward toward the terrible Tarakanov in defiance. Charlie then throws a heart punch of his own to Viktor’s sternum. “The Red Rage” grabs at the afflicted area as he steps back. With a quick cough, the big Russian steps forward and stares at Mathews, a miniature grin in the corner of his mouth. Tarakanov then takes a step back and bangs his arm across his own chest, signaling to Mathews to try and give him another dose of CPR the hard way. The “Grappler” seems happy to oblige as he rears back his fist and swings it forward, but instead of striking Viktor in the chest, the big man keeps moving and wraps his mighty arm around his opponent’s neck. The crowd once again shows their disapproval in the wrestlers’ lack of showmanship.

 

Axis: Dammit, cant that man do anything but put on head and chin locks?

 

King: Didn’t you just see the exchange of heart punches? That man is versatile. He’s a REAL competitor! Though I have to give credit to that America-hating bastard Tarakanov. Both of these men are giving me one hell of a show!

 

Axis: I’m afraid that our fans aren’t sharing your opinion King. They are NOT happy with the direction that this match is headed in.

 

King: Well, everyone is entitled to my opinion, Axis.

 

Mathews squeezes away at Viktor’s head, trying to cut off all blood circulation to his head, but he applied the hold too fast and didn’t get a proper grip. Tarakanov easily throws a hard back elbow at Charlie’s exposed ribs. Mathews’ releases his hold on Viktor, allowing him to escape and quickly throw his arms around his opponent’s back, ensnaring the arms to ensure no escape. The big Russian then lifts up the near three hundred pounder and wrenches away with a bearhug. The fans don’t seem to like this much more than a chinlock and pick up their boos that were stopped when Viktor broke Mathews’ hold.

 

As Tarakanov compresses Charlie’s body in the bearhug, both men’s faces start to turn red, showing the intense struggle by both men. Mathews struggles and strains but is unable to free himself from the clutches of the Communist. After several long moments in the hold, Mathews begins to fade from consciousness and his head begins to droop. Seeing the weakness in his opponent, Viktor is incensed and squeezes even harder, ensuring Charlie’s lapse into sleep. At last, Mathews’ head is clearly resting on his shoulder as Tarakanov yells loudly for the referee to pick up his arm to check for any sign of consciousness.

 

Axis: I cant remember the last time that someone won a match with a bearhug, King.

 

King (speaking like an old man): Oh, I’d say that’d be back in nineteen sixty three, Axis! That was around the time that swarm of locusts done ate all mah corn to hell!

 

The referee timidly approaches the towering pile of flesh and has to pry Mathews’ arm out of Viktor’s grip, slightly loosened for the ref’s ease. With that arduous task completed, the referee lifts the arm up and then drops it, yelling loudly “ONE!!” The crowd begins to buzz, excited that the match may soon be over. The referee lifts the arm again and it drops, lifeless. “TWO!!” screams the man in the striped shirt. Viktor with gritted teeth begins to excitedly nod while still squeezing the hold. The ref lifts the arm again and releases it... but it doesn’t fall! Suddenly, the “Grappler” awakens and shakes his fist high in the air.

 

He begins to beat Viktor in the head with his free arm, his only defense against the Russian onslaught. After several blows to the skull, Tarakanov is forced to release Mathews from the bearhug. The crowd, not quite cheering but also not distinctly booing, is getting as excited as Mathews. The energy coming off Charlie is contagious as he begins to lay in more rights and lefts to Tarakanov’s head and chest, gaining momentum as he goes. Ultimately, Mathews grabs Viktor by the arm and whips him into the ropes with all his strength.

 

The crowd is now just on the verge of exploding in cheers.

 

 

Mathews is literally shaking with vigor as he waits for his opponent to come off the ropes.

 

 

Axis: Charlie Mathews looking to hit something big here!

 

 

The excitement is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

 

 

The fans are on their feet, preparing to peak their excitement.

 

 

King: What a competitor!

 

 

Viktor Tarakanov bounces off the ropes dazedly.

 

 

At last, Charlie “Grappler” Mathews nails, hits, clobbers, and annihilates “The Red Rage”...

 

 

...

 

 

With a headlock.

 

 

The crowd bursts out what was to be the head of a huge cheer as they realize that nothing exciting actually happened. At the same time though, a huge yell of satisfaction is heard from Mathews as he yells “YES!!” obnoxiously loud after locking on the dreaded headlock. The crowd boos their heads off, feeling foolish that they were so blind as to spread their hope of exciting wrestling on this match.

 

Axis: Awww, what the hell? I almost believed that Mathews was going to hit something more than a headlock or a punch! That’ll be the last time I believe in that man.

 

King: That... was BRILLIANT!! I mean NOBODY saw that coming! Not the crowd, not you Axis, not me, and certainly not Tarakanov! That was the highlight of my night right there.

 

Axis: I still cant believe you enjoy that man in the least, King. He’s being paid to entertain the fans and he’s not doing it! It’s like stealing money from the company, for crying out loud!

 

King: Ah, quit your bitchin’ and get in the kitchen!

 

With a huge grin of satisfaction on his face, Charlie Mathews squeezes away at Viktor Tarakanov’s neck, his grand move firmly locked in. Viktor is still dazed but is aware enough to fight back. He tries prying the big arm off of his neck but that is near high impossible, the holds is extremely tight. With his face red with struggle, he attempts to use the back elbows that were effective in freeing him from the headlock in the past. Attempting to target the injured ribs of Mathews, weakened further by the bearhug, Tarakanov begins to throw elbows at Charlie’s ribs, but the “Grappler” is one tough competitor.

 

It takes a minute, but soon Viktor is attentive enough to throw the elbows back and forth with lightning fast speed. Mathews is tough, but even with the screeching encouragement of his manager, he is still human and has to let loose of his big hold. The fans half-cheer, if just for the end of the headlock, as Viktor is freed from the tedious hold. Standing quickly, he spins around back to Charlie and nails the unsuspecting wrestler with a back fist. Feeling the time right to end the match, Viktor grabs the hunched over “Grappler” and sticks his head between his legs, causing the crowd to buzz.

 

Axis: Looks like Tarakanov is gonna try for the powerbombs on Mathews! If he hits even one of these, the match should be over.

 

King: He may hate my country but the man throws a great powerbomb series.

 

Viktor almost grins as he bends over to wrap his arms around Mathews’ midsection to hoist him in the air, but his dominant portion of the match is cut short. Suddenly, a chair is struck across the weakened neck and back of the head of Viktor Tarakanov, collapsing him to the mat. Upon hearing the sound that the chair made after hitting the mat beside the fallen Tarakanov, Charlie springs back to awareness and grabs his manager by the collar of his purple suit. “I told you not to interfere! I told you to stay out of the way!” is hollered by Mathews to Matheson, who keeps trying to cover for himself but cannot form many intelligible words, more than a little intimidated by his own angry wrestler.

 

Axis: That little rat Matheson snuck in and drilled Tarakanov across the injured neck with a chair!

 

Mathews is on the verge of destroying his manager for going against his wishes but cannot bring himself to do so. Still questioning Matheson for his motives, Charlie’s guard is let down. Suddenly, James begins to squeal “LOOK!!” and point behind Mathews but are ignored, brushed off as Matheson trying to get out of trouble. Not without warning, Viktor Tarakanov, who has risen since the chair-shot and grabbed the chair, slams the steel chair directly across the back of Mathews, who drops to one knee. Viktor then moves past Charlie and walks to Matheson.

 

The sniveling runt attempts to plea bargain his way out of danger but is denied. Viktor does not attack the manager at first though, instead he hands Matheson the chair and says “Hit me.” The frightened little man is about to oblige before Tarakanov rears back and punches the steel chair straight into Matheson’s weaselly face. James is knocked out of the ring through the ropes to the floor and the chair falls onto the mat. Viktor picks up the chair again and turns in time to see the “Grappler” charging at him, perhaps trying to save his manager a bit too late, perhaps trying to exact revenge on Tarakanov. Viktor sees the man coming and swings the steel chair down as hard as he can right on the forehead of Mathews with an un-Earthly clang!

 

Axis: Did you hear the sound that that made, King? That was sickening!

 

King: Yeah, it kinda sounded like the noise the Ace of Spades made when I dented in the door of your rental! Wait... I mean when... FUNYON dented in the door to your car... with the Ace of Spades...

 

Axis: THAT WAS YOU?!?! I’m going to have to pay a fortune for that now! I knew I shouldn’t have rented a Delorean...

 

Before Mathews can fall, he is grabbed by Tarakanov and steadied between his legs. With a quick motion, the near three hundred pounder is lifted up onto his Russian shoulders, and then slammed back down to the mat with a loud thud. The crowd is now cheering only for the excitement of the match, finally delivered. Viktor does not release his hold on his opponent, however, as is evident by his enormous struggle as he lifts the “Grappler” in the air again, not quite so high as before and then slams him back to the mat again.

 

The force of that powerbomb almost shook the ring, but Viktor is still not finished. Stopping with Charlie still in position, catching his breath, “The Red Rage” suddenly jerks his body upwards, slowly lifting the heavy load that is the “Grappler” into the air as high as the second bomb. Out of nowhere, he lets out a roar and hoists the big man the rest of the way in the air, every muscle in his body rippling, before slamming him to the mat with a noise bigger than the other two combined. The crowd is marveling at the strength of the terrible Tarakanov with cheers not for the man, but for the athleticism.

 

Axis: That was just THREE POWERBOMBS on a THREE HUNDRED POUND MAN!! That was an INCREDIBLE show of power by Viktor Tarakanov!

 

King: WOW!! That was freaking crazy! He’s got the gift.

 

Tarakanov falls down in exhaustion and positions himself over top of Mathews for the cover. The referee quickly drops to the mat to count.

 

1

 

.

 

.

 

2

 

.

 

.

 

 

3

 

DING!! DING!! DING!!

 

Funyon speaks from ringside, also thankful that the match is over, “Your winner of the match... Viktor TARAKAAANOOOV!!” His theme music starts up without him as he’s still lying on the mat.

 

Axis: It took a lot of punches, a lot of headlocks, and a LOT of negative feedback from the fans, but this match is FINALLY over!

 

King: And so is Viktor Tarakanov! After THREE POWERBOMBS on the three hundred pound Charlie Mathews, “The Red Rage” has come out with yet another victory!

 

Tarakanov struggles to stand, dripping sweat and breathing hard. As the referee attempts to raise Viktor’s hand in victory, he disrespectfully slaps the ref’s hand away and brutally pushes him out of his way in a hurry. The ref falls on his ass, tripping over Charlie, as Viktor leaves the ring, indifferent to the now boos the fans give him for shoving the innocent referee.

[Guest realitycheck]

"So Axis, Pay Per View time is rolling round again. And it looks like the Powers that Be are setting up these guys like Dace and Tryst for contenders shots for the PPV." King says.

"Then we have the Title Match going on later tonight, which will effect whom faces whom. Even if people are going for Title Shots, more pressing matters or feuds might put the shots on hold." Axis muses.

"My god Axis, actually some thinking going on in that head of yours. Also, what if someone gets sent up from the JL to the WF? That could really shake things up around here." Says King.

"Only if it happens King, it might not. We'll just have to wait until the Powers that Be let everyone know what will be going down at the Pay Per View." Axis points out. "But before then, we still have matches left at this on this show, so let's get it on."

 

Funyon steps into the ring to announce the upcoming match.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the following Singles Match, will be under Regular Rules for One Fall!" He booms out.

 

"Well, this should be one for the sportsmanship books, with both of these guys having nothing against each other. Dace lost out to Christian Blackwell last time around, for a shot at the World Title on this show, but this could set him right back inline for that Title Shot, or springboard Tryst upto that shot." Axis comments.

 

"Firstly, from Bairnsdale, Britain, weighing in at two hundred and eighteen pounds, The Sherwood Fable ... TRYST!"

 

The lights blacken out, as the SmarkaTron turns green. The camera zooms throw the frost to the image of Tryst, who losses an arrow at the screen. A wall of pyro explodes, lighting up the arena, as Frost booms into life.

 

Stepping out, bow and arrow in hand, Tryst stands in the spotlight to the cheering of the fans. Making his way down the ramp, he slaps hands with his fans as he makes his way down to the ring.

 

Handing over his bow and arrow, Tryst rolls into the ring to more cheering and calls from the fans as the lights fade back to normal.

 

"His opponent, from Birmingham, England, weighting two hundred and fifty four pounds, he is ... DACE NIGHT!"

 

Fuel for Hatred starts screaming out across the arena. As the lights turn red and purple, Dace Night steps out into the arena. Storming down the ramp, he dumps his trench coat on the floor.

 

Stepping on the apron and throw the ropes into the ring, he stares across the ring at Tryst, glaring him down.

 

Ignoring the cheering and calling of the fans, he sheds his t shirt, and motions for Tryst to step up and fight.

 

"Dace Night looking very focused, and I haven't seem him like this against someone like Tryst in a long time." Axis calls.

"Maybe he knows he needs to get himself back on track before the Pay Per View, and try to get that World Title back? Or maybe he's finally come back to a good way of thinking?" King answers with his own questions.

 

The ref waves his arm, calling for the bell.

 

DING, DING, DING!

 

Tryst extends his arm for a handshake, but just gets his head taken off by a Lariat from Dace.

 

OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

Grabbing him by the back of the head, Dace pulls Tryst right back up and starts driving knees into his mid section one after another after another.

 

OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

Whipping the Sherwood Fable around, Night sends his head smacking into the top turnbuckle.

 

SMACK!

 

Then a second time.

 

SMACK!

 

Then a third time.

 

SMACK!

 

Letting Tryst crumple to the mat, Dace follows up with lashing boots, stomping away. The ref starts yelling at Dace to get out of the corner and off the ropes.

 

"Wow.. this I like, I really, really like this." King says, grinning "A great aggressive side and strategy from Dace. This is how you get back on track and back into the Title picture."

"Maybe for you King, but this doesn't look like the Dace Night we've seen in the past months, and I don't think this is a good thing. Tryst certainly looks to be up for a much harder fight than sporting match he probably thought he'd have." Axis calls.

 

Mix calls start coming from the crowd as Dace slowly backs off, and Tryst drags himself back up to his feet.

 

As Tryst pulls himself up, Dace charges back into the corner, only to be sent crashing to the mat as he connects with a Thrust Kick from the Sherwood Fable.

 

YYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

 

Moving across the ring, Tryst gets himself into some open space, and shakes his head out quickly, as Night rolls back to his feet, still looking pissed.

 

Vaulting forwards, with a bound through the air, Tryst crashes into Dace and topples him to the mat with a Cross Body.

 

......ONE!

Kickout!

 

Dace easily throws off Tryst, but Tryst is moving faster and doubles Dace over with a boot to the gut. Throwing his arm over Night's head, Tryst snaps him over with a Snap Suplex. Rolling over, Tryst keeps a hold, and then drops Dace with a DDT.

 

"He comes Tryst, with a Cross Body, followed by a Snap Suplex and a DDT. It looks like he's got the message, and won't be taking any more from Dace Night!" Axis shouts.

 

The crowd mounts into a hail of cheers at Tryst's fight back, willing him on.

 

Dragging the Goth back up, Tryst whips him into the turnbuckles with a smack. With a follow up charge, he bounds up Dace's chest, but instead of flipping backwards, he drops onto his shoulders and flips backwards with a Hurricanrana.

 

"Wow, and Tryst turns that Tiger Wall Kick into a Hurricanrana , taking Dace over." Calls Axis.

"Tiger Wall? Wha?"

 

Sitting back across Night's shoulders, Tryst makes a cover.

 

......ONE!

 

...Kickout!

 

Again Dace powers out, and rolls back to his feet

 

Surging forwards, the two men tie up. Dace overpowers the Sherwood Fable, throwing his arms away, and starts hammering home Elbow Smashes.

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

With each blow, he forces Tryst back across the ring into the ropes. Lending Tryst back over the ropes, as for an Irish Whip, but instead, Dace wraps his hands around Tryst's neck and the ring ropes in a blatant Chokehold.

 

The fans explode into a wave of boos and jeers.

 

The Ref steps in and demands for a break.

 

Break!

 

......1!

 

......2!

 

......3!

 

......4!

 

...Dace let's go out the choke just before the five count.

 

"There's something I've never seen Dace down, choking Tryst on the ropes." Axis calls.

"I know, and it's about time he started busting out moves like that" King yells.

 

Taking a step back, Dace fires of a flurry of Knife Edge Chops.

 

SMACK! BBBBBBOOOOOOOOO!

 

SMACK! BBBBBBOOOOOOOOO!

 

SMACK! BBBBBBOOOOOOOOO!

 

Spinning Tryst around with the last Chop, Dace wraps his arms around the Fable's waist, and hooks his leg, lifting him up and over, with a Backdrop Suplex.

 

Standing up, Dace takes the time to spit on Tryst before dropping a knee right into his neck. AS Tryst convulses on the mat, clutching at his throat, Dace drops another knees into his head.

 

As he drops, Night extends his other leg, wrapping it about the Fable's neck, and sitting back into a Figure Four Sleep, trying to strangle the smaller man with his legs.

 

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Tryst starts crawling at Night's legs, and trying to roll over at the same time, in an effort to escape the Nevermortal hold. Kicking his legs at the same time, trying to reach the ropes in any form. As the Ref slides in along side Tryst to check his condition, Dace continues the heel pattern.

 

BBBBBBBOOOOO!

 

Reaching back, Dace grabs hold of the ropes, and pulls himself up, arching himself, adding more pressure onto Tryst's neck and throat. Not risking getting caught, Dace lets go, and lets himself drop back to the mat, with an extra little snap on Tryst's neck.

 

"Dace has those legs locked around the Sherwood Fable's neck, and uses the rope for extra leverage. Unless Tryst can get himself out of this one fast, it's over." Comments Axis.

 

Leaning back to add more pressure, Dace looks at the ropes with a twisted smile on his face. As Tryst starts trying to rock himself from side to side, to roll over in the traditional counter to the hold, Dace grabs hold of the middle rope.

 

The arena pours on the booing again.

 

However, instead of pulling himself up, Dace pulls himself backwards. Throwing his body through the ropes, hanging back out over the ring apron. Doing this, be pulls Tryst with him, and snaps his neck over the bottom rope as Night unlocks his legs and rolls onto the arena floor.

 

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

 

"And Night snaps Tryst's neck across bottom rope with that move!"

"Great planning, that's how to take someone out. I'm really enjoy this you know." King says evilly.

 

Scrambling across the mat, Tryst continues clutching at his neck, taking in big gulps of air. The Ref leas over the ropes, and starts a count for Dace to get back in the ring.

 

......ONE!

 

......TWO!

 

......THREE!

 

......FOUR!

 

......FIVE!

 

Rolling back into the ring, Dace shoves past the ref and heads right for Tryst again. Hauling him up, Night hammers a knee into his ribs, before sending him flying across the ring.

 

Catching Tryst on the way back, Dace picks him up into the air, spins him over and drives his back down onto his knee with a Tilt a Whirl Backbreaker.

 

OOOOHHHHHHH!

 

"Tilt a Whirl Backbreaker from Dace, focusing on the throat and mid section of Tryst, trying to keep him out of breath."

 

Forcing Tryst into a Stand Headscissors, Dace locks his arms and pulls him up over head for a Powerbomb. In an effort to avoid a bombing, the Fable leans his body back, either to over balance Dace or hit a Hurricanrana.

 

Doing some weight shifting on his own, Dace drops to one knee, and drives Tryst down, back and ribs first onto his knee.

 

DACE SUCKS! DACE SUCKS! DACE SUCKS!

 

Dace rolls into a cover.

 

......ONE!

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

Kickout!

 

 

YYYYYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

 

"Tryst kicking out a Powerbomb Backbreaker, but how much does he had left in him after that one?" Questions Axis.

"Not much I'd bet, with the power of Dace." King says, smoothly shifting into Heel Pimping.

 

Bringing a groggy Tryst back onto his feet, Dace locks his arms around the smaller man in a Rear Waistlock, and just tosses him over head with a German Suplex, just about holding on for the bridge.

 

......ONE!

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

..Kickout!

 

YYYYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHH!

 

"Straight into a German Suplex, but another kickout from Tryst!"

"Damn it, just stay down like a good main, it's what they pay you for." King yells.

 

In frustration, Dace grabs hold of Tryst and suplexes him over head. Letting him hang for a few moments, before throwing out his feet, dropping back and drilling the Fable neck first to the mat.

 

"Sheer Drop Brainbuster!"

 

Turning over Tryst's body, Dace drops into another cover.

 

......ONE!

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

Kickout!

 

Bailing out of the ring, Dace storms over to the ring side area, and grabs the nearest steel chair. Even now he ignores the booing and yelling of all the fans at ringside, as he slides back into the ring.

 

"He's got a Chair! It looks like Dace doesn't want any more to do with this match, and is just going to beat the living hell out of Tryst with that Chair!" Axis screams.

"Woohooo! This is what we need to see more of from Dace." King calls.

 

The Ref immediately gets in Dace's face, yelling at him to drop the Chair or be Disqualified. Tryst takes the moments this is making to get his senses back together from Dace's earlier assaults.

 

Dace holds the Chair high over head, to go and attack Tryst, or to take out the Ref first. The Referee starts to give his last warning, as he his hurled out of the way up Tryst.

 

Before Dace can do anything, he's thrown off his feet by a Thrust Kick from the Sherwood Fable, which sends the chair flying out of his hands and out of the ring.

 

Not stopping at that, Tryst dives on top of Night, and starts raining in a hail of punches to the growing cheers of the crowd.

 

Dragging Night to his feet, Tryst whips him off into the ropes. As he comes flying back, Tryst leaps into the air, and onto his shoulders. Then with a twist, turns around, to sit on the back of Dace's shoulders, and flips him over backwards.

 

YYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

 

"Inverted Hurricanrana! Tryst almost dumping Dace on his head with that one. This could be a turning point in this match." Axis shouts out.

"Dace can recover from this one. We can't have him losing on his first match in this new direction." King shouts back.

 

The Fable makes a quick cover off the move.

 

......ONE!

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

 

......Kickout!

 

 

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

 

Pulling Dace back up, Tryst locks hold of his arm, and makes a dash at the ropes, pulling Dace behind in tow.

 

But before Tryst can pull of his move, Dace slams on the breaks, spins right around, still attached to Tryst before throwing him up and over the ropes.

 

Tryst goes sailing over the top rope, but grabs hold of it, and manages to drag himself onto the apron instead of crashing to the arena floor below.

 

Forcing himself back up, the Sherwood Fable uses his speed, leaping up to the top rope, before springing off, across the ring in a dive.

 

"Springboard Plancha by Tryst!" Calls Axis.

 

Rather than take the Plancha, Dace grabs hold of the Ref and pulls him into his place.

 

SMACK!

 

"Dace pulls them Referee in the way, and Tryst wipes him out."

"Brilliant move there. Dace really is picking this stuff up fast." King grins.

 

As Tryst rolls to his feet, looking around for Dace, Dace grabs him from behind in a Rear Waistlock, but the Sherwood Fable is thinking fast, and pulls out a counter.

 

Grabbing hold of Night's wrists, Tryst drops to his knees and rolls backwards between Dace's legs, pulling his arms with him. This causes Dace to flip over forwards onto his back, and Tryst quickly follows up by pulling those arms tight around Dace's throat.

 

Then, still holding Dace's wrist, Tryst jumps and drops back with a Dropkick to the back of Dace's head, as he his snapped back down to the mat by the pull on his arms.

 

RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

 

"Now that's a brilliant move King!" Yells Axis "A version of the Rolling Cradle Hold to counter the German Suplex, but Tryst has the areas, and turns it into almost a Dropkick assisted GokuRaku!"

"Bah, the Referee is down, so it does matter a damn thing." King mutters.

 

Hauling Dace to his feet, Tryst drives a boot into his gut, doubling the bigger man over, before clamping on a Front Facelock. Instant of hitting a DDT, Tryst wrenches him up in the air, and spikes Night's head to the mat with an Implant DDT.

 

YYYYYYYYAAAAAHHHHH!

 

"Implant DDT! Tryst is really fighting back now, he could be moving in for the kill this time." Axis shouts.

 

Pulling Dace back to his feet, Tryst snaps on another Front Facelock, and signals to the fans.

 

"Crusade coming up!"

 

In an attempt to avoid the move, Dace grape vines one of Tryst's legs with one of his, blocking the lift.

 

Lashing out with his free leg, Tryst lands a boot into the ribs of Dace, shaking him off, and Tryst makes the lift again, as cross the ring, the Referee beings to move.

 

This time, Dace doesn't try to grape vine Tryst's leg, he similar kicks him straight in the nuts.

 

BBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

"Low Blow! Low Blow!" Cries Axis.

 

As Tryst stumbles forwards, Night swiftly underhooks his arms, picking him up, and with a sharp twist, turns through ninety degrees for show them spikes Tryst down on his head.

 

"DEFENESTRATION! It's over!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" King yells in a rare reverse from Dace Night connecting with his finisher.

 

Covering the unmoving Tryst, Dace just waits, as slowly the Ref pulls himself across the ring and starts a slow count.

 

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

.......TWO!

 

 

 

 

......1/4!

The crowd is roaring, searching for any hope out a kick out.

 

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

 

 

The call louder and louder, hoping that the slow count will allow Tryst to just kickout.

 

 

......9/10!

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......THREE!

 

NNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

"Here is your winner ... DACE NNNIIIGGGHHHTTTT!" Funyon booms.

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

The crowd continue full force booing at Dace, as he spits on Tryst before rolls out of the ring.

 

Fuel for Hatred plays out across the arena, mixing wit the chorus of boos.

 

"Well, this whole match as been surprising to say the least." Axis says slowly.

"It's been great. Dace is really showing some drive and spirit, this is the sort of thing that will get him back into the Title picture, and maybe even up to the WF. I can see great things in his future if he carries on like this." King says happily.

"But what's caused such a dramatic change in him? It must have been something big." Axis wonders.

 

Grabbing hold of the chair on the floor, Dace rolls back into the ring. Then with no nonsense style, lays out of the Ref.

 

CRACK!

 

Then precedes to hammer away from Tryst with everything he's got.

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

"And now Dace is just destroying the beat Tryst with a Chair! Has he lost his mind? What's gone on to cause such a change in Dace like this?

 

Finally dropping the Chair, Dace rolls back out of the ring, picks up his trench coat and makes his way up the entrance ramp.

 

Ignoring the booing and jeering of the fans, Dace flips of Tryst in the ring, then does so to everyone that tries to get his attention as he moves up the ramp.

 

Standing at the top of the ramp, Dace Night gives one last middle finger to the whole arena, before slipping behind the curtain.

 

FUCK YOU DACE! FUCK YOU DACE! FUCK YOU DACE!

 

"And this change in Dace is going to have an impact on the PPV, in how he's used, and how is opponents fight him, maybe not as much as if the World Title changes hands, but when someone changes side, you bet there will be questions answered and more asked."

 

Fade out.

[Guest realitycheck]

Back from commercial, a camera scans the crowd inside The United Center, searching for fan signs, such as, "Crimson > SmackDown" and "Eat A Bag of Dicks, King." The Suicide King's face is aghast as he glares at his monitor, and Axis holds in a snicker, as the cameras settle in on them and they prepare for the next segment.

 

"(King) Why, I never…"

 

"(Axis) Welcome back to Crimson, everyone. As always, it's Axis and King here with you, and we're set for the second of two matches in our #1 Contendership Tournament to the SJL World Title. And now, we're ready for "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins versus Manson. Manson has been MIA for a bit, while Spike on Wrath cost himself and Va'aiga the win versus Sean Atlas in a Handicap Match"

 

"(King) I want that fan thrown out of the arena, post haste. Anyhow, the winner of this match, will go on to face the winner of Tryst and Night, our earlier match, at a later date. Will Manson's leave of absence pay off with a win and a possible title shot, or will Holly be the one walking out of here one step closer to a title shot of his own. Let's find out."

 

With that, cameras switch to Funyon already standing in the ring, with referee Matthew Kivell right behind him.

 

"(Funyon) The following contest is Singles Match, and it is to determine our eventual #1 Contender to the SJL World Title!…"

 

Funyon pauses, as the thrash metal stylings of "Hate Song" by The Haunted hits the speakers. The house lights cut out into pitch black, and red strobes flash on and off rapidly, as Manson walks out onto the stage to a round of boos. He briskly moves down the ramp, focused on the ring, yet still visibly trying to ignore the fans.

 

"(Funyon) First, making his way down to the ring. He stands six-foot even, and weighs in at two-hundred and ten pounds. From Denver, Colorado… He is MANSON!"

 

Manson reaches the ring and slides under the bottom rope. He pops up and stomps to his corner, before taking to a knee and keeping his eyes glued to the SmarkTron.

 

"(Axis) Manson looks a little… intense, I guess is the word."

 

"(King) Word is he's pissed off, and isn't going to take it anymore."

 

"(Axis) As if we haven't heard that before. He promises, yet doesn't deliver."

 

Manson keeps looking up at the 'Tron, as Kivell explains the rules to him, to no avail as Manson sits in his trance. "Look At Me Now" by Reveille then hits the speakers, and multi-colored lights flash, much in the same manner as Manson's entrance earlier. Funyon once again raises the microphone to his mouth.

 

"(Funyon) And his opponent, standing six-foot-one, and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty pounds. From Hollywood, California… He is the "King of the World." He is "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins!"

 

Spike Jenkins walks out onto the stage, to noticibly more heat from the rabid fans. He walks down the ramp in a cocky stride, paying no mind to the fans who continue to boo and jeer him. As Spike approaches the ring steps, he climbs up while Funyon makes his way out, his job accomplished. Jenkins then steps into the ring, over the second rope and under the third. He mugs for the camera and the crowd for a moment before whipping off his leather jacket, at which point Manson shoots up off the ground and knocks him to the ground with a shove, leaving Kivell no choice but to ring the bell at that moment.

 

::Ding Ding!::

 

Kivell kicks Spike Jenkins' jacket out of the ring, before motioning for Manson to let up on Spike. Manson has none of it, as he lays in the kicks to the downed Spike, who tries to block and cover up.

 

"(King) Good job, M!"

 

"(Axis) How you condone this…"

 

"(King) You good guy announcers really are blind, aren't ya? It's smart, and Spike would've done the same thing. You know it."

 

"(Axis) Fine. Whatever."

 

"(King) Owned."

 

"(Axis) As I was saying. For a little match background for our fans, despite all their time in the federation, Manson and Spike have never met one on one. Their sole encounter was back last year when Manson was on his anti-sWo kick, teaming with CIA versus sWo members Spike Jenkins and Mak Francis. CIA and Manson picked up the win there, and of course Mak and CIA have long since departed for the SWF, but Spike versus Manson has been a long time coming."

 

Spike and Manson make their way to the corner, and Spike pulls himself up with the ring ropes. Manson lets up just enough to allow Jenkins get up to his feet, before throwing an arm around the head of Jenkins, and placing Jenkins' free arm over his own neck. Manson then snatches the waistband of Spike's khakis, and brings him up and over with a fierce Snap Suplex. He goes straight into a cover, which Spike immediately kicks out of.

 

"(Axis) Manson, with the cover out of the Dynamite-esque Snap Suplex, and he gets no count as Spike gathers himself and gets out of it."

 

"(King) Far too early to get the fall…"

 

Manson grabs the dirty blonde hair of Jenkins and brings him up to his feet, as Kivell warns against the hair pull. Manson releases his hold on the locks, and pushes Jenkins into the corner, once again nearest the SmarkTron. Staring down Spike, Manson brings his arm back and whips it forward with deadly speed, striking Jenkins' chest. And despite the protection offered by his black shirt, the resonating sound of the Flair Knifedge Chop across Jenkins' chest is loud and clear, allowing the fans to chime in…

 

"Whoooo!"

 

Jenkins reels, as Manson prepares for another Chop across the chest. And once again he connects…

 

"Whoooo!"

 

Jenkins slouches in the corner, as Manson grips the right arm of Jenkins, in an attempt to whip him across the ring. Jenkins holds onto the top rope, and Manson lets loose with a forearm shot to the back of the neck to get him to let go. Manson drags Jenkins out of the corner, and sends him across the ring to the opposite corner. Jenkins hits back first, and Manson rushes, as Jenkins staggers out. Manson lifts a leg up, looking to knock Jenkins' block off with a dangerous Yakuza Kick, but Jenkins promptly ducks under the leg. Manson spins around, only to have Jenkins get him in a Front Face Lock. Manson struggles and fights, looking for a way to get free, but it's too little, too late, as Jenkins falls back and plants Manson with a DDT!

 

"(Axis) Jenkins, driving Manson's head into the mat with a DDT, off Manson's failed attempt at the Yakuza Kick. I'd say they're about even at this point."

 

Manson lays groggy on the mat, and Jenkins stands over him, watching momentarily, before placing a foot on his chest, Jericho-style, screaming "I'm the King of the World!" The fans expectedly boo the display of arrogance, as Kivell counts the pin, but gets nothing as Manson immediately gets his shoulder up.

 

"(Axis) That was original…"

 

"(King) Of course it was. Holly is the true "Innovator of Offense."

 

"(Axis) I was being sarcastic…"

 

Manson shoots up off the mat, enraged at the display of disrespect. He mouths a few inaudible words to Jenkins, before slapping the taste out of his mouth, knocking Spike for a loop.

 

"(Axis) Did Spike expect any less?"

 

Jenkins recovers quickly, and responds in kind, paying back Manson with a slap of his own. Manson crookedly smiles, as he and Spike lock eyes. Both men then go for a collar elbow tie-up, as both fight for the advantage. Manson, being the stronger of the two, drives Spike back a few steps, before lifting up multiple Muay Thai-style knees to the midsection of Spike. Manson relinquishes his hold, as Spike falls to a knee, clutching his gut. With Spike disabled, Manson displays a bit of his amateur prowess by mounting Spike and getting him in a grounded waistlock.

 

"(King) Spike really should be using his speed here…"

 

"(Axis) Well, Manson has been keeping him out of the air fairly well here. Spike is playing into his hands, at least for now."

 

Spike looks for an out, as Manson yanks Spike up off the mat with ease. Holly reaches with one Back Elbow, followed by another, to no avail, as Manson simply chooses to drop down and trip up Spike, sending him back into the mat. With Spike grounded once again, Manson pops back up and delivers one good shot to the kidneys with a stiff kick.

 

"(King) Now look who's being disrespectful."

 

"(Axis) But really, both of these guys haven't been doing much to endear themselves to each other. It seems like a contest of oneupsmanship now."

 

"(King) Well, it's not like they're not on a date. Respect goes out the window in the squared circle."

 

Spike grabs his ribs this time around, as he slowly gets off the mat. He glares at Manson, who simply shrugs and dances around the ring, anticipating the next exchange. Spike takes hand away from his ribs, and does the same, figuring that this must be Manson's game. They meet in the center of the ring, as Manson tries to lunge and close in on Spike. Spike avoids Manson's grasp, and grips him from behind, locking in an Inverted Face Lock. Just as quickly as Spike got Manson in the hold, he lets go, and swings himself into the prime position for a Neckbreaker! Manson hits the back of his head on the mat, and Spike now has his opening.

 

"(Axis) Old School Expulsion!"

 

"(King) Ooh, a patented move of one Steve Corino. I'm sure it's on loan from Corino though, as Spike would never steal moves."

 

"(Axis) No. Never. Anyhow, that does not bode well for one with such past neck problems as Manson."

 

"(King) Indeed. An injury originally suffered in Mexico, and it has been his burden ever since. A re-injury to the neck is what resulted in Manson going out so many months ago at the hands of Wildchild."

 

Manson screams in pain, as Spike leans down and lifts up the upper body of Manson, bringing him into the sitting position. Spike wraps his arms around the head of Manson, and attempts to squeeze the life from him with a Sleeper.

 

"(Axis) Spike with a Sleeper now…"

 

Spike keeps the Sleeper on as tight as he can, as Kivell repeatedly checks in to make sure that it isn't a choke. Manson tries to fight out of it, and keeps struggling and getting free, until the same Sleeper is turned into a Side Headlock. His opening now there, he waistlocks Spike, pops his hips and takes him back into the Backdrop Suplex.

 

"(Axis) Manson kept fighting until he found a way, as he dumps Spike high and tight onto his back."

 

"(King) Well, it's clear now that Spike's intentions are to aim for Manson's neck and head. While Manson, I would assume, is going for his old stand-by of mid-section work, as he has a plethora of moves that could target that area. And it can effectively limit what Spike can do with his speed and high-flying moves, to boot."

 

Both Spike and Manson get up to their feet now, as they meet in the center of the ring once again. Forgetting the feeling out process and pleasantries of earlier on, they come out swinging, as Spike throws a blow first, with a right hand haymaker, clocking Manson in the jaw. Manson absorbs the blow, and delivers a knee to Spike's gut. Spike stumbles back, and Manson grips the arm, whipping him across the ring. Spike fights, and reverses it. Manson bounces back, and Spike telegraphs the Spinebuster, though minus his usual Kip-Up routine to set it up. Manson, caught in the hold of Spike, is let go, as Spike's ribs agonize him too much, due to the previous hard kick. Manson with rapid-fire Mini Chops to the base of Spike's neck, and Spike shakes it off.

 

"(Axis) Spike's ribs, too damaged from earlier on, isn't able to capitalize on his Spinebuster attempt…"

 

Manson shoots Spike off into the corner, and Spike bounces off chest first. Manson grasps Spike across the chest with his right arm, and attempts to muscle him up for his Uranage Suplex, but another reversal is in store, as Spike shakes free, and grips Manson around his neck from behind with the Inverted Face Lock. Spike attempts to Roll The Joint…

 

"(Axis) Spike attempting an Inverted Swinging Neckbreaker…

 

But Manson spins out of that attempt, and lands another devastating knee into Spike Jenkins' gut. Spike winces in pain, as Manson throws his arm around Spike's neck, and Spike's closes arm over his own neck. Manson with a lift for a Vertical Suplex, but he pauses in mid-air, and drops Spike face-first on the sit-out… Manson spins Spike around onto his back, covers, and Kivell makes the count…

 

"(Axis) Manson with the Mind-Bender… He could get it here!"

 

"One!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THREE!!"

 

::Ding Ding::

 

"(Funyon) Your winner, by pinfall, MAAANSON!"

 

"(King) Blah. He got lucky, in my opinion."

 

"(Axis) The series of reversals finally broke under it's weight, as Manson drives Spike Jenkins face-first with his Front Sit-Out Suplex known as The Mind-Bender. Now, he'll go on to face the winner of Tryst and Dace Night. And next Sean Atlas, the defending champion, faces Crow and Christian Blackwell in a Three Way 3-Minute Elimination Match! Stay with us…"

[Guest realitycheck]

As ring attendants clear the squared circle of the last dirty remains of Manson and Spike Jenkins, we are treated to a close shot of Axis and The Suicide King.

 

[Axis] Well, folks, coming up next is our main event! Sean Atlas will defend the title against Crow and Christian Blackwell in a Three Minute Three Way Elimination Match!

 

[King] That’s right! To win, you’ve got to eliminate two opponents in a span of Three Minutes. And if you’re the one to be eliminated, you’re vulnerable as you can’t touch the other guys for those three minutes. But if one of them, or someone else just happens to knock your head off, tough luck buster!

 

[Axis] An added element here is that we’re in Chicago, Sean Atlas’ supposed hometown. Will the fans support him or do what everyone else does, and boo him to high heaven?

 

[King] Or low hell?

 

[Axis] Same difference. Let’s take a look at the tale of the tape here:

 

CHRISTIAN BLACKWELL

Age: 32

Height: 6’ 4”

Weight: 237 pounds.

Hometown: Rosslare, Ireland.

Current SJL European Champion

 

CROW

Age: 22

Height: 6’ 2”

Weight: 231 pounds.

Hometown:

- Born: Adelaide, Australia

- Lives: Anchorage, Alaska.

10-3-4 Record

 

SEAN ATLAS

Age: 22

Height: 6’ 3”

Weight: 230

Hometown: Chicago, Illinois (?)

Former SJL European Champion,

Current SJL World Champion. 12-2-1 record.

 

 

[Axis] So what does all of that tell us, King?

 

[King] Basically, Blackwell is an old fart compared to the other two, and all of these guys come from different corners of the earth.

 

[Axis] And yet, they’re roughly the same height and weight, and have risen through the ranks faster than any of their peers.

 

[King] Clearly, this is the cream of the crop. Ladies and Gentlemen, come witness history in the making as Christian Blackwell, Crow and Sean Atlas battle it out for Junior League Supremacy!

 

[Axis] Right after this break!

 

 

--=-- Commercials --=--

 

 

Sexton Hardcastle appears on the screen, holding a green box entitles, “Gas-X”

 

“Are you feeling full? Bloated after a delicious meal with your loved one? Find yourself escaping to the bathroom to unload a big one? Well, suffer no more. Take Gas-X, the premier supplement against gas. Squeeze your cheeks no more! Guaranteed to work or your money back! Take it from me folks, this stuff works!

[Guest realitycheck]

Fade in from commercial break.

 

An outer shot of The United Center in Chicago, Illinois fades onto the screen of numerous television sets around the world and as always, a light din can be heard seeping out from within. Cut to the inside of the arena and BOOM! An explosion of screams, shouts and moans occurs! ... moans? Seems like the people in the nose bleed seats didn’t come for the wrestling... watch out boys, the bleeding may start somewhere else. Moving on from that, the camera swivels around the various sections of the crowd, obviously putting the effort in to avoid showing the nose bleed seating. Cut to a wide shot of the SJL ring, its almost finished for the night... but not just yet, we have one more match to get through. Pan over to the commentary position where the two fabled SJL commentators sit and banter with each other.

 

“Welcome back fans to S! J! L! CCCrrrrriiiiimmmmsssssoooooonnnnn!” begins Axis with his hollering voice. “Coming to you live from Chicago, Illnois in the fabulous United Center! What a night it has been thus far, great wrestling action and the beginnings of a special mini tournament for rights as the number one contender to the SJL World Heavyweight Title! But King, we’re not finished yet...”

 

King looks at Axis mockingly. “Of course we’re not, you moron, if we were I’d be banging a blonde right now.”

 

“Spike Jenkins?” queries Axis.

 

“THE KING OF THE WORLD! What about him?”

 

“He’s blonde.”

 

“...And?”

 

“... Just never mind, King.”

 

Darkness consumes the arena and the shocked crowd lets out some screams... Breaking Benjamin’s “Polyamorous” explodes through the sound system whilst strobe lights upon the ceiling simultaneously flash and just a few seconds in, right before the heavy drums hit...

 

*BOOM!*

 

A colossal pyrotechnic explosion blows off on the Crimson staging, creating 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. After a slight pause in his stance, Atlas begins to walk down to the ring. Funyon, who by now has cautiously stepped out to ringside, introduces the masked man.

 

“Making his way to the ring, from Chicago, Illinois, standing at six foot three... weighing in at 230 pounds... this is... SEEEEAAAANNNN ATLAS!”

 

Atlas arrives at ringside, then carefully slides into the ring, preparing himself for the battle against two intimidating competitors that await him... each intimidating in their own way. Blackwell with his highly skilled assaults on all body parts and Crow with his delight for bleeding and his tolerance for agony.

 

“Just when you think that you're all right! I'm crawlin out from the inside! I never hurt anyone! I never listen at all!”

 

The rocking tune of Polyamorous dies out...

 

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

 

The opening lines of Soilwork’s brutal thrash metal hit “Natural Born Chaos” explodes through the arena speakers and the crowd cheers and boos! Mixed reaction as per usual as of late, but this time around the cheers are much louder and it seems that some men are now cheering Crow. Possibly the gay male communities, but let’s not go into that. The Antichrist Superstar walks from behind the entrance curtain, lit cigarette in left hand... he brings it up and takes a long inhale. He cocks his head to the left and then to the right... and then flings it backwards and exhales the smoke whilst he throws his arms out horizontal in the crucifix pose. He drops his arms, takes another drag and begins to make his way down the ramp.

 

“Coming down the aisle... hailing from Anchorage, Alaska... standing at six foot two and weighing in at 231 pounds... he is the Antichrist Superstar... this is... CCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

 

Crow steadily walks up the steel steps and butts his smoke out on the ring post before stepping through the ropes. Crow ignores Atlas standing in the ring whilst he walks over to his corner, he sits down and leans back against the turnbuckle and looks up... locking eyes with Sean Atlas.

 

“Talk about intensity... these guys are both silent and unmoving... yet an aura is being projected as they stare at each other,” says Axis in an attempt to build up hype. “King, who is your pick in this match up?”

 

“I’m not sure, Axis. Usually it would be Crow, but after his assault on Spike Jenkins on Metal... I just don’t know Axis! I JUST DON’T KNOW!” cries out the Suicide King as the lights in the arena dim down, and then thrust into complete darkness.

 

The sweet melodious opening of “Three Libras” by A Perfect Circle slowly fades in. An eruption of cheers as Christian Blackwell, the drunken Irishman walks out with his head down. Blackwell walks down the rampway, causing little bursts of fire to shoot up from beside the ramp as he walks past and down to the ring. Slowly he ascends the steps and enters the ring, he stops to survey his opponents... there is Crow in the corner and Sean Atlas in the other, o’ what a world. Christian and Sean warm themselves up while Crow just sits in his corner as Funyon announces the match’s rules.

 

“Fans in this arena and around the globe, this is the main event triple threat match... for the SJL WORLD Heavyweight Championship! Countout and disqualification applies, but the match follows elimination rules... but with a twist!”

 

The crowd cheers politely.

 

“When one man is pinned, or submits or otherwise has a fall scored on him, he is eliminated from the match for three minutes. During that time the two remaining men wrestle under standard conditions, thus meaning if a pinfall is obtained during this three-minute period, the match is over and a winner is declared. And note, if the eliminated man tries to interfere, he is ejected from the match.”

 

“Get all that, King?” Axis asks his partner.

 

“What? Sorry? I wasn’t listening,” responds King as he seemingly awakens from a daydream.

 

The Antichrist Superstar stands up and cracks his knuckles, his own way of warming up for matches. All three men now stand, cocking their heads every which way at each other... referee Anthony Michael Hall stands in the center of the ring.

 

“Now boys, you know the rules, I want a good clean match, no low blows, hell anything related to the genitalia, no questioning my counts and most of all, no freakin’ weapons... got that Crow?”

 

“Blow me, slag.”

 

Hall just shakes his head and calls for the bell...

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

“And here we gooooooo, King! This baby has started! And it looks like it’s gonna be a full grown adult by its end!” exclaims Axis clapping his hands together.

 

“Dude, Axis,” says King whilst shaking his head, “That has to be the worst analogy I’ve ever heard.”

 

Atlas and Crow look at each other... and then look at Blackwell, the crowd starts to boo as they can sense what’s about to happen. Christian stands his ground though and merely waves the hands at the both of them, asking them to “bring it.” The two antichristians oblige and begin to walk towards Blackwell...

 

...BUT NO! Crow turns around and fires his fist at Atlas’ head! The crowd cheers the event loudly and cheers even louder as Crow heaves his arm back and throws it forward, knocking Sean down to the mat with a tremendously powerful clothesline! Crow sticks his arms out horizontal and plays himself to the crowd with the crucifix pose, but he forgets who is still standing in the ring behind in! Christian Blackwell quickly goes up to Crow, back to back and hooks the arms; he drops to his knees and leans forward, causing Crow to slide forward into a pin!

 

ONE!

 

.

 

..

 

...

 

NOOOOOOOO!

 

Crow rolls out of the pin and a simultaneous rise, the two men jump at each and a collar and elbow tie up occurs! The two men jockey for position and Blackwell being the stronger of the two men forces Crow into the turnbuckle, but before the referee can break the two up, Sean Atlas comes charging and splashes them both in the corner! Crow slumps himself against the turnbuckle for support while Atlas applies an inverted front face lock on Blackwell and drags him back into the center of the ring...

 

BANG!

 

Sean Atlas takes the Irishman down with a reverse DDT! COVER!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“The drunken Irishman kicks out! I don’t know how, that was a great move by Atlas,” says Axis.

 

“Meh, nothing special. I could do better of course,” remarks King.

 

“Of course.”

 

Atlas gets up on his knees and starts nailing Blackwell in the jaw with some right hands... but not for long as he’s stopped by a thumping big roundhouse kick sent to the side of his head by Crow! Crow lifts Atlas back up to his feet...

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Crow unleashes a blood curdling knife-edge chop upon the chest of Sean Atlas, more blood vessels burst as Crow reels his arm back once again and slaps it across Atlas’ chest! The Antichrist Superstar latches on Atlas’ wrist and pushes him back into the ropes. An Irish whip to the opposing ropes, Atlas bounces off as Crow drop downs to the mat. Blackwell, who rose to his feet as the whip occurred, catches Atlas in a quick arm drag! Crow hops off the ground and flips Blackwell over with a quick arm drag of his own! All three men rise simultaneously and Christian makes a charge at Crow with arm outstretched for a wild clothesline. Crow though, ducks under the clothesline and out of the way of harm! Atlas, not expecting the clothesline is not able to move out of the way and is struck in the face by the Irishman’s wild arm! Blackwell hastily turns around, well aware of the standing man behind him but to his surprise and agony... he turns around only to meet the boot of Crow. Crow boot strikes the side of Blackwell’s head with a loud crack, almost like bone snapping.

 

“Das Wunder Kick! That kick was so stiff, I felt it myself!” shouts Axis.

 

Christian Blackwell falls to the ground clutching at his jaw while Crow just changes his focus of attention to Sean Atlas. The Antichrist Superstar wretches Atlas back to his feet...

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Crow unleashes another blood curdling chop upon the chest of Sean Atlas, and backs Sean into the corner. Attaching his hand to Atlas’ forearm, Crow Irish whips Atlas into the opposite corner and almost immediately follows. Atlas with an amazing awareness of the wrestling ring manages to halt himself before running face first into the turnbuckle and jumps over the ropes onto the apron! Crow is unable to stop time and runs straight into the turnbuckle, and dazed, he stumbles backwards! Sean Atlas quickly ascends to the top rope and jumps off – nailing a plancha off the top! Crow falls back on to the canvas hard and Atlas goes for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Crow kicks out of the plancha just in time! And Blackwell is back up!” shouts Axis, providing his usual play by play.

 

The drunken Irishman lifts Sean Atlas to his feet and applies a front face lock. He grabs a hold of Atlas’ tights and heaves him up! Atlas is vertical is the air and is soon to be dropped back in a basic vertical suplex... but no! Crow fires his leg at Blackwell’s stomach and nails yet another Das Wunder Kick! Blackwell doubles over causing him to lose his grip on Sean Atlas, Atlas falls back onto the his feet from a vertical suplex position and stumbles back...

 

...

 

Into the waiting arms of Crow! Crow locks on a waistlock and throws Sean Atlas over his head! Atlas’ shoulders and neck slam against the mat - Crow nailing a rapid german suplex!

 

“Good god, what a brutal german suplex! And the Antichrist Superstar holds the bridge on the suplex!” cries Axis.

 

“Damn, Axis!” begins King, “Was that nasty of what!? I’ve taken some Germans numerous times, and that’s one I would try to avoid at all costs!”

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

 

 

Sean Atlas kicks out! But just barely... Crow begins to stand up but Blackwell quickly seizes this opportunity of regrouping and flips Crow over with a snapmare! Christian quickly hops up and rears his leg back!

 

*CRACK!*

 

The sound of the Irishman’s boot connecting with Crow’s back echoes throughout the arena, such a stiff kick doesn’t go unnoticed by the crowd either, as they groan along with Crow. Christian Blackwell kicks Crow in the back one more time and then quickly performs a forward flip over Crow and whilst flying over, he grabs the head of Crow - causing Crow’s neck to snap forward! The Antichrist Superstar clutches at his neck but is hastily picked up by the man on a mission and is whipped into the ropes. Crow bounces off the ropes at lightning speed... and straight into the waiting arms of the Irishman! Christian locks on a waist lock! But no! Crow swings around and applies a waistlock of his own... he tries to heave Blackwell over, trying to hit another nasty german suplex... noo! Christian Blackwell reverses the german mid air move and shifting his weight rolls forward and clutching Crow’s legs! Blackwell rolls Crow up in a cradle pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

..NOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Crow kicks out just in time after a great reversal by Christian Blackwell! This match so far has kicked all sorts of ass, King!”

 

Crow kicks his legs out and pushes the Irishman away, both men rise to their feet, but Crow grabs the back of Blackwell’s head and drops to his knees! Chinbreaker! The chinbreaker causes Blackwell to jettison up and back into the ropes, clutching at his chin. The momentum from the move is enough for Christian to bounce off the ropes and back towards Crow... front face lock, grip of the tights...

 

*SLAM!*

 

Snap suplex from the Antichristian Phenomenon and he floats over for the cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

TNOOOOO!

 

Sean Atlas comes up behind Crow and waistlocks him during the count! Sean lifts and turns around, and Crow is now standing... both men facing away from Christian Blackwell’s fallen body. And with a cry Atlas heaves Crow over head and throws his back first onto Christian Blackwell’s face and chest!

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

“OH MY GOD, KING!!”

 

“ATLAS JUST KILLED BOTH CROW AND BLACKWELL! At least Crow’s beautiful face wasn’t damaged... phew.”

 

“...”

 

Atlas pushes the broken body of Crow off of Blackwell before the referee drops down to count it... and then he goes for the lateral press.

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

TTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

 

A little timer appears on the upper left of the Smarktron screen and begins to count down from3:00.

 

“And Christian Blackwell is eliminated from the match for a three minute time period! The match is now standard singles, and if either Crow or Atlas get the pinfall within this time period, they win the match!” explains Axis to the audience at home... and King.

 

“Ooooooh I see... sort of,” says King, “Crow’s gonna win this, you know, Axis?”

 

“Only time will tell, King,” replies Axis.

 

Sean Atlas rolls Christian Blackwell out of the ring, and kicks him off the apron, further rubbing in the insult. It seems that blood is rushing from Blackwell’s nose, obviously the aftermath of his face being crushed by Crow’s 231-pound body. Atlas turns his attention back to the Antichrist Superstar, the superstar who now crawls across the ring on all fours clutching at his back... Blackwell’s face isn’t a pleasant landing as I’m sure you can imagine. Sean walks forward until he stands behind Crow’s crawling form and plants his boot on Crow’s behind... adding further insult to injury Sean pushes Crow’s behind with his boot, forcing him down to the mat. Sean Atlas bends over and grabs a large clump of the Antichristian Phenomenon’s blackened locks, and slowly he pulls Crow back up to a vertical base. Atlas bends Crow over and stands to his back. He sets Crow up for the Stretch Slam! Atlas lifts Crow up, but he doesn’t throw Crow over! He holds Crow horizontal across his chest...

 

...

 

AND DRIVES CROW DOWN ONTO HIS KNEE! Sean Atlas breaks Crow in half with the pumphandle into the backbreaker! But he doesn’t let Crow fall off, instead Sean holds Crow across his knee and pushes down on Crow’s throat and waist!

 

“Look at this, King! Crow is being bent in half by Atlas with this unique move, I don’t think I’ve seen it before!”

 

“Well, you obviously didn’t see the SWF HCG match where Janus did the same thing to Mike Van Siclen.”

 

The referee drops down and asks Crow if he wants to submit... and Crow cries out NO as Atlas applies even more pressure! Crow flails his arms about and sees an opening... he manages to poke Sean in the eye with his finger, this causes Sean to jump up (reflex action) and rub his eye. Crow summons up the strength to get up... and he fires a roundhouse kick at Atlas’ side!

 

...NO! Atlas grabs Crow’s leg on his side and pushes Crow back down to the mat... Atlas mounts Crow’s chest and unleashes a flurry of punches which I’m sure are atheist.

 

RIGHT!

 

RIGHT!

 

LEFT!

 

RIGHT!

 

LEFT!

 

RIGHT!

 

Atlas jumps off but almost immediately jumps back down with an elbow drop onto Crow’s chest. Sean goes for the cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

..NOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“The Antichrist Superstar somehow manages to kick out before the three count!”

 

“He’s Crow, he’s tough... he can do those sorts of things!”

 

Sean Atlas quickly picks Crow up and rears his arm back...

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Knife edged chop! Sean latches onto Crow’s arm and pushes him back into the rope... an Irish whip! Crow bounces off the opposing ropes, Atlas drops down, but Crow steps over – avoiding being tripped up! Crow comes off the ropes again but this time tries to take Sean down with a spear, but no! Atlas leapfrogs the charging Crow, he was ready for it! Crow comes of the ropes again and throws out his arm for a clothesline, but nooo! Sean Atlas ducks under and swings around, he quickly applies a full nelson and summons the energy to heave Crow up! Noo! Crow breaks out of it and slides up behind Atlas, he throws a strong forearm into Atlas’ upper back and quickly moves to Atlas’ side. The Antichrist Superstar wraps his arm around Atlas’ neck and hooks the leg...

 

...He falls back, hitting the Russian Leg Sweep! Crow’s quickly back onto his feet and he backs up to the ropes... he comes off and flips forward onto Sean Atlas! Somersault Senton! A cry of pain escape from Crow’s mouth as he hits and he clutches at his back whilst he goes for the cover.

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

.NOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Sean Atlas kicks out of the cover! Crow rolls off Atlas and clutches at his back, he forgot about it as the adrenaline pumped through him just at that moment... but he has to suck up the pain, he has to! The Antichrist Superstar pulls Atlas back up to a vertical base and latches onto an arm... Crow whips Sean into the turnbuckle and he slams into them face first! Sean Atlas stumbles back out... but is immediately crushed into the turnbuckles again – Crow ran at Atlas’ back and speared him! Atlas yelps with pain as Crow continues the assault! The Antichristian Phenomenon grabs Sean’s hair and throws his head into the turnbuckle repeatedly... and the crowd counts along with Crow!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

TEN!

 

Crow spread his wings and strikes the crucifix pose much to the delight of the seemingly now pro-Crow crowd, that or they could just be anti-Atlas.

 

*BUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!*

 

“That’s the buzzer! Christian Blackwell, the drunken Irishman can now re-enter the match,” reports Axis.

 

“He was drinking the fans’ beers while he was waiting, I wonder if he’s drunk...” remarks King.

 

“I doubt it,” begins Axis as he rolls his eyes, “He’s not a glass and a half Cadbury boy like you, King.”

 

Crow jumps to the top rope and applies a front face lock on Sean Atlas, he twirls his finger in the air – signalling for the Murderous DDT! The Antichrist Superstar comes off the top rope and drives Atlas’ head in the canvas with the tornado DDT just as Christian Blackwell steps back into the ring. Crow goes for the cover...

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

..NOOOOOOOOO!

 

Christian almost immediately stops the count with a big mudhole stomp. He hits some more boots on Crow, but doesn’t dwell on the rough tactics for long and hastily pulls Crow up. Blackwell jumps in the air and dropkicks Crow, sending him flying back into the ropes! Crow is almost about to bounce off them...

 

...but no! Christian Blackwell gets to his feet extremely fast and charges at Crow – shoulder first! The Irishman spears Crow through the ropes and onto the thinly protected surface! A resounding thud can be heard as the two bodies it the floor!

 

“Blackwell and Crow have spilled to the outside, leaving Atlas in the ring all alone... but I’m sure Atlas won’t mind, he can use the time to rest his head... since it was driven into the canvas not too long ago,” says Axis.

 

“And what a fine move it was that put him down on that canvas!” shouts King, putting Crow over, he’s forgiven Crow for his previous Jenkins-related blasphemy it seems.

 

“Damn right it was, Crow loves that Murderous DDT... but I’m not so sure he’s loving life right now,” reports Axis.

 

Blackwell nose is still rushing out much blood, but he gets to his feet before Crow and he bends down... he throws a few forearms at Crow’s face and then lifts his arm up... and brings a sharp elbow down on the top of Crow’s head! The Irishman grabs Crow by the hair and starts to bully him around, roughly dragging him up to a vertical position. Meanwhile, Sean Atlas is almost back on his feet in the ring and watches the action occurring outside. Blackwell leans Crow against the railing... rears back his arm, and unleashes another wicked knife-edge chop! Crow gasps and clutches at his chest, which is now pink from the chop... he looks up and sees Sean Atlas standing behind the ropes. Sean Atlas holds onto the top rope with both his hands... and springboards over with a pescado!

 

...

 

Crow quickly slinks over to his right and avoids getting hit by anyone! But Blackwell is a different story, and he is floored by Sean Atlas’ flying body! He was completely unaware of Atlas’ presence near the ropes!

 

“Oooooh! Pescado from Sean Atlas takes Blackwell down! That’s something you never see, Sean Atlas performing a springboard move,” says Axis.

 

“Well, it wasn’t that pretty, Axis.”

 

“Good point.”

 

All three men are struggling on the floor outside of the ring, but referee Hall can’t count anything because if he does, this match won’t have a winner. Crow is the first man to get back to his feet... he picks Atlas up and Irish whips him into the railing! Atlas hits hard and slumps back against the railing... Crow charges and jumps into the air, nailing a running body press on Atlas! Sean was crushed into the hard railing! The Antichrist Superstar quickly jumps over the railing and then steps onto the railing behind Atlas... he wraps his left arm around Atlas’ neck.

 

“What’s Crow gonna do here, King?”

 

“Stuffed if I know.”

 

The commentary doesn’t know, but Crow is planning for a Diamond Dust! ...but no! Atlas grabs Crow around the upper body and slams him forward onto the mat! SPLAT is noise Crow’s body makes against the canvas as the crowd groans! Sean Atlas slowly climbs back into the ring, and the referee can now start the count...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

TWO!

 

...

 

THREE!

 

... the crowd begins to shout along with the referee.

 

FOUR!

 

...

 

FIVE!

 

... Christian Blackwell is stirring.

 

SIX!

 

...

 

SEVEN!

 

... Blackwell uses the railing to help him to his feet.

 

EIGHT!

 

... Blackwell stumbles over to the ring.

 

NINE!

 

... Blackwell slides in! But Crow isn’t showing any signs of movement!

 

TEN!

 

“Crow has been eliminated from this match for three minutes! Now it’s Blackwell and Atlas squaring off against each other!” reports Axis

 

“This isn’t good! Crow could lose now! Noooo! Please no pinfalls until his time period is up guys!” begs King in a high pitched tone.

 

Sean Atlas quickly picks Christian Blackwell off the canvas and launches him towards the ropes! Blackwell bounces off and runs straight into a waistlock... but no! Blackwell counters the waistlock in the hammerlock.... but wait... Atlas forces Blackwell back into the ropes... and he jumps up into the air, grabs the back of Blackwell’s head and uses his weight to flip Blackwell over! Both men hastily jump back up and Sean charges at Christian... but he’s taken over with an arm drag! The Irishman quickly shift over and captures Atlas’ arm in a cross armbreaker, Atlas writhes in pain but quickly grasps the bottom rope close to him. Christian Blackwell breaks the hold straight away and continues by picking Atlas up and whipping him into the ropes once again! NO! Sean reverses the whip and sends Blackwell running into the ropes... Atlas jumps up and tries for a front dropkick (!) but Blackwell holds onto the ropes and stops from running, thus causing Atlas to land back first on the mat. Christian Blackwell runs and flip forward, grabbing Atlas’ legs on the way over and landing on his feet – getting the bridged pin! NO! Sean struggles out of it before the referee can count and the move men lock arms and spin up and around until they’re back to back, struggling to get to the back slide pin! NO advantage is obtained and the two men break the hold and turn to face each other! Sean Atlas fires a clothesline but nooo! Blackwell ducks under it...

 

...and the referee is floored by Atlas’ huge arm! Afterwards Atlas quickly turns around, but is immediately grasped and hoisted up and over in a Northern Lights Suplex!

 

“Oh! Oh no! Referee Anthony Michael Hall is down! Blackwell is holding onto the bridge for the Northern Lights Suplex, but there is no count being made! I tell ya, I don’t like the looks of this...” says Axis.

 

“As if, Axis!” begins King, “I love it when a referee gets knocked down, it means the wrestlers can use weapons and cheat and stuff!”

 

“And that’s exactly why I don’t like it, King! It also means there can’t be a pinfall until the referee comes to or another referee comes down, and knowing the SJL refs... that won’t happen,” conveys Axis.

 

Christian Blackwell lets go of the bridge and looks over to the referee on the canvas... he’s out cold. Blackwell gets back to his feet and picks Sean Atlas up from the heap in which he lied and throws forward an elbow strike! Atlas is rocked back, but still maintains... not for long as Blackwell throws another elbow strike that sends him back into the ropes. Suddenly, an uproar from the crowd near the entrance can be heard...

 

...

 

IT’S THE HIGH PRIEST OF HORRORCORE DACE NIGHT! He’s running down the aisle towards the ring wielding a steel chair!

 

“Look King! It’s Dace Night! He’s coming down to the ring!”

 

“What the hell is he doing here!? Get away from here you ghastly man!”

 

“I assume he’s here to stick it to Sean Atlas, he’s obviously still fuming from the stinging loss and the embarrassment of being beaten by a man who he believes is NOT hardcore!”

 

Blackwell ignores Dace Night and whips Atlas across the ring and into the opposing ropes... Atlas bounces off and tries to clothesline Blackwell, but Blackwell is too quick and ducks under the clothesline. Christian swings around Sean and applies a waistlock, but quickly scoops Sean’s head under his arm and brings him down – applying an inverted front face lock. The Irishman kneels down once he firmly clutches on the face lock... he locks his hands together and squeeze, causing Atlas to cry out. Dace Night quickly slides into the ring and throws the chair up in the air...

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

*THWACK!*

 

...

 

“WHAT THE HELL!?” shout both Axis and King.

 

DACE NIGHT BRINGS THE CHAIR DOWN ON CHRISTIAN BLACKWELL’S HEAD!

 

Christian Blackwell head flings back and he releases Sean Atlas from his grasp, he then falls backwards onto the canvas with a tremendous thud. Dace Night puts his arms in the air and turns around 360 degrees, absorbing the BOOS coming from the crowd!

 

“What the hell is going on here!? Why did Dace hit Blackwell!?”

 

“Who knows, Axis! I’m wondering why he didn’t hit Atlas!”

 

The High Priest quickly slides out of the ring and turns his attention to Crow, the now rising Crow, who supports himself on the railing. Dace Night pulls the chair back in baseball swing...

 

 

...

 

 

*THWACK!*

 

 

Night hits a homerun as the chair breaks as it cracks across the side of Crow’s head! The Antichrist Superstar falls to the ground clutching at his head, and Dace Night just laughs! The High Priest Of Horrorcore throws the chair down and begins to walk backstage. Inside the ring, Atlas tries to shake off the pain shooting through his body as he wakes the referee up. Anthony Michael Hall is conscious again, meaning he’s able to make the count and knowing so, Sean Atlas jumps on top of Christian Blackwell and hooks the leg!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

TTHRRRRRREEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“BLACKWELL KICKS OUT! BLACKWELL KICKED OUT! SOMEHOW THE IRISHMAN KICKED OUT!” screams Axis at the top of his lungs.

 

The buzzer goes off, indicating that Crow’s three minutes are up!

 

“Crow can come back now, yeeeeessss!”

 

He’s allowed to re-enter the match up, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be doing so very soon... he’s stirring, but not stirring all that much. Sean Atlas is fuming and believes that the count was slow, and he’s not afraid to tell Referee Hall what he thinks too!

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? That was a fucking three count!”

 

“What did I say before!? DON’T QUESTION MY COUNTS! I’ll eject you from your match if you don’t shut up! See this shirt!? You’re in my world!”

 

Sean Atlas scowls at Hall, but he stops, not wanting to lose his title belt over something so trivial. He looks down at Christian Blackwell, who is showing signs of movement but not much, as his reserves are burnt out after mustering them up to kick out. Atlas grabs a clump of Blackwell’s short black hair and wretches him up to a standing position... Blackwell stumbles... he may be one tough bastard but he’s not Maori and can’t withstand a monstrous chair shot. Sean doubles Blackwell over and applies a standing headscissors...he brings his hand to his forehead... then to his left shoulder... then to his right shoulder... and finally to his belly button... motioning an inverted cross. The crowd begins to throw cups into the ring upon seeing this blasphemy but Atlas ignores it and gutwrenches the Irishman onto his shoulders. Sean places both his arms under the arms of Blackwell and extends them out as far as possible... setting up for the crucifix powerbomb.

 

 

...

 

 

NOOOOO! BLACKWELL IS KICKING HIS LEGS! BLACKWELL SQUIRMS HIS WAY OUT OF IT!

 

Sean Atlas quickly turns around to face Christian Blackwell but is rocked back by a vessel bursting knife edged chop!

 

“Ooooooh, I felt that one,” says Axis.

 

Atlas clutches at his chest with his hands and sends one firing back at Blackwell! NO! The Irishman grabs Atlas’ arm before it connects and knees Atlas in the stomach! And one more time for good measure! Blackwell hastily applies a front face lock, grabs Sean’s tights and heaves him overhead – he’s going to try for the brainbuster!

 

 

...

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ATLAS FLAILS HIS LEGS IN THE AIR AND MANAGES TO BRING HIMSELF BACK ON THE MAT!

 

Sean Atlas throws some punches at Blackwell’s stomach, trying to get him to relinquish the hold... but Blackwell tries to heave him up again! NOO! Sean puts his leg in between Blackwell’s and stops it, Sean fires some more punches and finally escapes! In a split second, Atlas puts his arm between Blackwell’s leg and with a heave he places Blackwell horizontally across his shoulders!

 

 

...

 

 

“SSSSAAAAAAAIIIIINNNNNTTTTTTTT’SSSSSS DDDDEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEE!!!! And I think Blackwell is down for the three count cause of this move!” screams Axis.

 

The crowd boos heavily for this manoeuvre and even more as Atlas hooks the leg and goes for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

BLACKWELL IS ELIMINATED FOR THREE MINUTES! And probably a lot more after that devastating move! The timer starts counting down from 3:00. Christian Blackwell’s body must be in stitches of horrible pain, but it’s unmoving and coldly lifeless.

 

Sean Atlas slowly gets up, and takes plenty of time to regain himself... knowing that Crow is still out on the outside...

 

...

 

...or is he?

 

“Look, Axis! It’s Crow! It’s Crow! He’s back from the dead and revenge is on his mind!” shouts King, pointing at Crow.

 

The crowd begins to cheer like mad as Crow slides into the ring and sneakily walks up behind Atlas... and with the quickness of a cat applies a crossface chickenwing! The Antichrist Superstar lifts him up!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

AND HITS THE WING AND A PRAYER SUPLEX! CROW TURNS ATLAS OVER AND COVERS!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

THHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

 

“SEAN ATLAS KICKS OUT OF THE WING AND A PRAYER SUPLEX! How!? How!? He must be desperate to keep his title, King!” exclaims an excited Axis.

 

“Well, no shit, sherlock! If you had two legs, and had the title, wouldn’t you do everything possible to keep it!?” cries out King, annoyed at Axis’ fetish for the obvious.

 

Crow can’t believe it and pulls on his hair, he sticks three of his fingers in the air and motions to referee Hall that is was a three! But Anthony Michael Hall sticks to his guns and holds up two fingers and Crow, not wanting to be ejected, gives up. Only seconds over the two-minute mark remains on the timer and Crow must finish Atlas, and finish his quickly. The Antichristian Phenomenon looks down at Sean Atlas and flips him over onto his stomach... Crow grabs Atlas’ foot and elevates it! He throws it down into the canvas! Atlas cries out but is helpless to the attack, the Wing and a Prayer suplex has left him almost lifeless. Crow grabs Atlas’ right foot again and elevates it towards heaven... and throws it down into the canvas one more time! And another time for good measure! Crow wretches Atlas onto his feet and stands to his side. Crow uses his left arm to apply a waistlock and bends Atlas’ right leg with his free arm... he lifts Atlas in the air... and kneels down - dropping Atlas’ bent right leg across his knee! Atlas’ jettisons up and falls back first onto the canvas, Crow with the intent of a submission grabs the leg of Atlas and steps around it to bend it down on the kneecap of the other leg... but NO!!! Atlas uses his free leg to push Crow in the ass! The Antichrist Superstar runs face first into the turnbuckle and stumbles back... and has his shoulder put on the mat by an Atlas schoolboy!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

 

CROW KICKS OUT! The crowd screams in shock and glee as they thought the match was gone! Sean Atlas slumps back onto the canvas after the pin attempt, having spent his last bit of energy on the move and Crow quickly jumps back to his feet after being caught by surprise. He settles after seeing Atlas back on the canvas and breathes a sigh of relief. The Antichristian Phenomenon picks Sean up and latches onto his arm... whip into the ropes!

 

...

 

...NO! Atlas reverses the whip and sends Crow into the ropes! Crow comes off and is heaved up horizontally onto the Atlas’ shoulders!

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOO! Crow swings off Atlas’ shoulders and lands in front, Crow at the speed of lightning applies a front face lock and heaves Atlas into the air. Crow jumps up and kicks his legs out!!

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

NNNAAAATTTTUUUURRRRRRAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL BBBOOOOORRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNN CCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!

 

CROW FLOATS OVER AND COVERS!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

TTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

 

“SEAN ATLAS KICKS OUT OF THE NATURAL BORN CHAOS! SEAN ATLAS DOES THE IMPOSSIBLE AND KICKS OUT OF THE NATURAL BORN CHAOS!”

 

“HOW!? HOW!?”

 

Crow can’t believe it and rolls off of Atlas and lies on the canvas clutching his hair! What can he do to beat this guy!? Crow sits up and looks up at the Smarktron... there’s less than 15 seconds left! Crow with a new purpose yanks Atlas up and throws his arm through Atlas’ legs and lifts him onto his shoulders... horizontally...

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

CROW JUMPS SIDEWAYS AND DRIVES SEAN ATLAS’ BODY INTO THE CANVAS WITH THE SAINT’S DEMISE! SEAN ATLAS’ OWN FINISHING MOVE!

 

THE COVER!!!1

 

5!

 

BLACKWELL IS UP ON THE OUTSIDE!

 

ONE!

 

 

.

 

4!

..

 

 

...

 

 

TWO!

 

 

3!

.

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

...

 

BLACKWELL SLIDES INTO THE RING!

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

..

 

2!

 

...

 

 

 

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

1!

 

THE BUZZER GOES OFF! BLACKWELL NAILS CROW WITH A DOUBLE AXE HANDLE BUT IT’S TOO LATE! CROW HAS WON THE S! J! L! WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE!

 

“King! King! Crow’s won, he’s won! He’s beaten Sean Atlas and Christian Blackwell to become the world champion!” screams Axis.

 

“Jesus Christ, that match had me jumping outta my seat... I wouldn’t have cared who won just because the match was so great. But it’s good to see a deserving champion in this company. Congratulations Crow, you have done it,” calmly says King.

 

Crow lights a cigarette whilst referee Anthony Michael Hall hands Crow the world title belt... and he put the belt around his waist. The Antichrist Superstar ascends the turnbuckle and sucks back on the cigarette... he stands on the top rope and performs the crucifix pose to large amounts of cheers.

 

SJL Crimson fades out to this memorable visual.

 

Smartmarks Junior Leagues © 2003

[Guest realitycheck]

Results:

 

Read the show yourself! Lazy bastards!

 

I'll get the PPV card up as soon as I can, folks.