SJL Crimson, June 1st

[Guest crusen86]

SJL Crimson Card - A KingPhisto production!

Venue: The Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena, in Gladville, Tennessee!

 

N00B DEBUT

Fugue vs. Cutthroat

-Fugue, who has cool stats and stuff, makes his debut against Cutthroat, resident SJL welcoming committee.  Booyah.

 

NO-DQ MATCH FOR THE TELEVISION TITLE

"TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson © vs. "The Franchise" Mak Francis

-It's brutal!  It's tough!  It's no-DQ, baby!  Disqualifications and count-outs are not in effect as Mak Francis cashes in his TV title shot and looks to dethrone one of our longest reigning champions to date, the surly TNT, who's sure to be hella banged up after his 3 Stages of Hell match with Tod deKindes on Metal.

 

ELIMINATION MATCH FOR THE #1 CONTENDERSHIP TO THE EUROPEAN TITLE

Tod de Kindes vs. Insane Luchador vs. Poisyn

-IL fell just short of the world title on Metal, Poisyn fell just short of victory versus HBK, and Tod rose to the occasion and finally beat TNT.  Now all three tussle for a shot at that shiny gold belt around Frost's waist, under elimination rules.

 

VETERAN'S GRUDGE

NBK Josh Tupper vs. Mike Van Siclen

-It's the battle of the anagrams as two veterans who've recently made returns lock up.  One may remember the history around the TV title these two had back in the day if you've got a decent memory, and this should make for an interesting match.

 

SUBMISSION MATCH

Ced Ordonez vs. "Deathwish" Danny Williams

-On Metal, Deathwish forced Mike Van Siclen to tap, fighting through injuries to still pull out an amazing technical victory.  Next on his hit list: XF9's Ced Ordonez, who will test the power of the Nagata Lock in tonight's submission match.  DQ's and countouts are in effect, and victory can be scored only through submission.

 

MYSTERY PARTNER HANDICAP MATCH

Z & ? vs. Frost

-Frost retained his Euro belt on Metal, but allowed Sydney Sky to walk away with the World Title.  Commissioner Edwin, while admiring Frost's warm and fuzzy Icelandic heart, frowns on someone disrespecting a world title match, so as punishment, he's putting Z and a partner of his choice up against him in this handicap match.  Of course, Z's usual partner in the Z&C connection will have just gone through submission hell with Danny Williams, so Z might want to look in more unusual places.  Z and his partner, whoever it is, must tag in and out to face Frost.

 

Z can choose any person he likes to be his partner--just PM them, find out if they're in, and then PM that info to Frost as well.  Since just about everyone is booked for this show, feel free to ask people who are already booked.

 

NON-TITLE MATCH

Sydney Sky © vs. Flexxx

-New JL World Champion Sydney Sky gets no rest, as she goes up against Flexxx, who returns after disappearing for the 16th or so time.  Flexxx doesn't get a title shot right off the bat, but he certainly could prove a lot in this match with the world champion...and the as-of-yet untested Sky could perhaps prove even more.

[Guest crusen86]

**Unable to properly welcome everyone to the show, Axis does his best to improvise at the arrival of the lovely Sydney Sky.**

 

Axis: It looks like we are getting an unexpected visit from the SJL’s new World Champion, Sydney Sky! We haven’t even started the show yet and here she is .. making her way down to the ring.”

 

**The crowd is popping and all eyes are on the fiery-haired beauty as she makes her way to the ring. Her usual ring attire is replaced with her normal clothing of the purple plaid skirt, short tank top and white shirt over it. She steps into the ring after heading down the ramp and waves her hand at the crowd to greet them and then grabs a microphone. The music slowly fades and our champion is left standing in the middle of the ring. She smiles lightly and lifts the mic to her lips…

 

Sky: I just have a few things to say … before I go backstage to prepare for my match with Flexxx tonight…

 

**The crowd pops at the mention of the match.**

 

Axis: That's right, Sydney Sky will be facing Flexxx tonight in a non-title match... looks like the JL’s second female World Champion won’t be getting a break ... maybe she needs to still prove herself worthy of the belt…. Considering…”

 

King: (interjecting) Considering it was nearly handed to her on a silver platter, of course.

 

Edwin: Quiet you two!

 

Sky: I’m still quite in shock over being the JL World Champion…(the crowd pops again, as she waits for them to quiet down before continuing)... and I know that the way I got it might not seem right to some people … but I promise to be the best JL Champion I can be. This is something I have worked for ... and I know I can be one of the best. And I’m truly honored I can bring something to this company…

 

Edwin: Being only the second female to hold this title… she’s sure to bring quite a bit to this league! She’s made history! Only being surpassed by Annie Eclectic AKA Lady Red ... who was the first.

 

Sky: I know I’m going to be having a ton of new responsibilities, along with being the champion. But I know that with my dedication to this company and most importantly, to myself, I can achieve anything. I only wish I could have achieved this without the help of (she pauses, her face marred with confusion and other emotions that no one, even Syd, can describe)… Frost…

 

**As Syd finally mentions Frost and what happened on Metal and she gets interrupted in mid sentence by the retro sounds of Blue Oyster Cult and 'Cities On Flame With Rock & Roll, signaling the arrival of the European champion.**

 

Axis: Wait a minute…that's Frost's music! What's he doing out here?

 

Edwin: Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out, he's in love with Sydney!

 

**Frost steps from behind the ring curtain and stands at the top of the entrance ramp. He is in his standard non-wrestling attire of black dress shoes, tan slacks and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the throat. The European title around his waist makes an odd counterpoint to his casual attire. The belt is newly polished and buffed with a high gloss.**

 

Edwin: It’s good to see that Frost finally cleaned the Euro belt. I think he took a shower too, maybe a little High Karate behind the ears.

 

King: Frost is a man of class and distinction, even though he might not always show it, but he certainly wants Sydney to see it now.

 

**Sky stands in silent wait as Frost makes his way to the ring with his usual confident stride. The crowd murmurs, but is not totally sure how to react. Funyon hands Frost a microphone as he reaches the ring stairs. Frost trots up the stairs and enters the ring through the second rope. He looks at Sky for a long moment, not betraying any emotions in his eyes, before putting the mic to his lips.**

 

Frost: It is nice to see you finally getting around to mentioning me. I open my heart to you in front of thousands of people, I declare my love, I GIVE you the World Title as a token of my affection on Metal and you toss my name out like an afterthought.

 

Sky: Look, Frost, I’m still trying to figure out exactly what happened and exactly what your intentions are. I admit that you were instrumental in helping me win the title and I am grateful, but I will not let that cheapen my title reign and it will only make me work just that much harder to be one of the best SJL World Champions ever.

 

**The crowd pops wildly on that last phrase and are clearly pleased with Sky as the new champion.**

 

Frost: I assure you that my intentions are nothing but honorable. I have always been a man to toss the notion of love at first sight, or even love at all, out the window as fanciful musings of the weak and softhearted. Yet, when I first saw you walk through that curtain upon your return; I must admit that I felt the pains of romance stronger than I would a bodyslam in this ring.

 

Edwin: I can tell he studied Shakespeare.

 

Sky: (in a very soft voice) I don’t want to belittle your feelings and I am very flattered at all you have done for me and said to me, but at this time…(she pauses and the audience is on the edge of their seats) I just can’t say I feel the same way.

 

**The audience explodes with approving cheers. Frost stands his ground in the ring with his head hanging down, but one can see the veins and tendons in his neck and arms bulging as he fights to restrain himself.**

 

Sky: I don’t know anything about you, other than what I see of you out here in the ring. I don’t know how you take your coffee in the morning, or what your favorite kind of music is or even your full name. All I see is what you do in here. (she points a finger down at the canvas) You’re mean, violent, take pleasure in hurting people; how can I love someone like that?

 

Edwin: She has a point.

 

King: And you have one on the top of your head, shut up.

 

**Frost brings up his mammoth right hand to rub the front of his forehead in contemplation as he takes in what Sydney has just said. Whether he is going to break down and cry or scream in rage and tear apart the arena with his bare hands is equally likely at this time…**

 

Frost: I will respect your wishes for the moment, but what you have said does not daunt me. I will prove that I am worthy enough for your love, as I proved I was worthy enough to hold this title (Frost places a hand on the Euro belt) and as I won it, I will win you.

 

**Frost drops the mic to the mat and exits through the second ring rope to the floor. Sky stays in the ring, her face visibly racked with indecision and puzzlement, as she watches Frost walk down the ring aisle with more than a vested interest. Oddly, Sydney’s theme of “Bittersweet Symphony” strikes up on the speakers to escort Frost to the back.**

 

Axis: Frost might have conceded the battle here, but the war is far from over. He says he’s going to win her love, but how?

 

King: He gave her flowers, he proclaimed his feelings to millions of people watching at home and he helped her win the *World Title* for crying out loud!! She should be the one proving her love. She’s not good enough for him.

 

Edwin: You know, unless the woman involved is a stripper down at ‘Bottoms Up’ and I don’t think your opinion counts for much.

 

**As the camera remains on Syd, who starts to leave the ring; we switch over to the crowd scanning camera as we start to fade over to break…but not before spying Tod deKindes sitting in the upper section of the crowd, staring pensively through his silver shades…**

 

…

[Guest crusen86]

The screen flashed white.  The image focused on Frost, measuring the dazed Ash from the top rope.  He leaped forward but Ash dodged, leaving Frost to crash against Sydney Sky.  A cover--"One, Two, THREE!"  Frost raised the European belt.

 

  Then a cut to Frost holding Insane Luchador in a scissor lock.  "IT'S GOING TO BE AN EARLY WINTER!" the Suicide King screamed.  Frost flipped up the Luchador and powerbombed him, dragging Sydney on top--"One, Two, THREE!"  "Your NEW SJL WORLD CHAMPION--"  "Has Frost gone full goose bozo--"

 

  Frost stared at Sydney, holding a microphone.  "Do you love me--as I love you?"  The crowd yelled denials as Sydney paced.  A flash of white--"I don't know.  I don't know anything right now, I have to go, I need to go."  The screen darkened as Sydney ran, Frost staring after her as the sounds slowed and faded to nothing.

 

  Then explosions split the screen.  Repeated bursts of pyro seared the eyes as incoherent noise blasted through the air.  Then the barrage subsided and the lights came up, revealing a cheering crowd filling the Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena to capacity and beyond.  The camera careened over the audience, catching for posterity such witty signs as "I'm Sky-High For Sydney", "We Miss Ash  " and "Z Fears Pandas".

 

  "Welcome once again to SJL Crimson!"  The camera focused in on the announcer's table, featuring Axis, Edwin MacPhisto and the Suicide King.  Axis smiled.  "We've got a great show for you here tonight!"

 

  "And we're COMING to you live from the Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena in Gladville, Tennessee!" the Suicide King said, grinning hugely.  Edwin snickered.

 

  Axis rolled his eyes.  "Well...anyway, we've got some great matches lined up!  I'm talking the NEW SJL World Champion Sydney Sky, vs. Flex-ex-ex in a non-title match!"

 

  "That's FLUNKMASTA Flexxx, by the way," the King noted as a graphic of the two competitors appeared onscreen.  "I understand he's rather sensitive about that point.  In fact, he may pay a little visit if you--"

 

  "Uh, yes, of course," Axis said hurriedly.  "And the Early Winter may be stopped when Frost, the Iceman of Iceland, takes on Z and a mystery partner in a handicap match!  Not only that, we've got a TV Title Defense, a Submission Match, and lots of other great stuff!" he continued.  "But right now, we--"

 

  And then the lights went out.

 

  The crowd buzzed with anticipation.  "...well, it looks like we're ready to go!" Axis said.

 

  "Damn, where did I put my popcorn?" Edwin muttered in the darkness.

 

  "Hey, watch the hands!" the Suicide King snapped.

 

  The air was pierced by eerie strains of music.  The sound of an organ, bringing to mind demented madmen or submarine captains, wailed tremolously.  The crowd was suddenly lit by flashing white strobes as a figure appeared at the top of the ramp, the word "FUGUE" lighting up the SmarkTron as he walked toward the ring.

 

  "And it's the SJL's newest member, Fugue!" Axis said.  Light returned as the music broke into overdriven guitar, Fugue smiling at the crowd from behind his ragged hair.  Tonight his black tank top read 'N00B' in white letters.  Some of the fans booed, but most just murmured in incomprehension.  "Fugue's debut match, and he's drawn a tough challenge in the fan favorite Cutthroat!"

 

  "We'll finally know the answer the the question that's been burning in everyone's mind since Fugue's recruitment was announced!" the King declared.

 

  "That's right," Edwin added, "We all want to know--Can Fugue get the job done?"

 

  "Actually, I was thinking 'Does Fugue love the cock?'," the King replied.

 

  "...Of course you were."  Edwin rolled his eyes.

 

  Funyon cleared his throat.  "The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall!  Weighing in at 181 pounds, from Philadelphia, PENNsylvaniaaaa...FUGUE!"

 

  Fugue had slipped into the ring and was surveying the crowd.  He walked back and forth, letting his gaze travel over each and every row, his smile never fading.  The crowd's buzzing increased.

 

  "I don't think the crowd quite knows what to make of Fugue," Axis commented.

 

  "Well, if this match is anything like his tryout match, they'll soon know how to treat him," the King smirked.  Edwin scowled at his fellow announcer.

 

  "And his opponent--"  The arena was plunged into darkness again as an electric sound crackled through the air.  The crowd came to life as a rhythmic bass pulsed from the SmarkTron speakers.

 

  "Not again!" King moaned in the blackness.  "Uh--hmmm."

 

  "Hey!  Get your hands off my belt!" Edwin cried.

 

  Blue light streaked across the air and hit the stage, igniting an explosion of pyrotechnics as the lights came on again, bathing the audience in steel blue.  A thunderclap rocked the arena as Our Lady Peace's "Whatever" blasted from the speakers.  And then a figure thrust aside the curtain and stepped into the light, greeted by deafening cheers from the audience.

 

  "Now making his way to the ring from Greenwich, Connecticut," Funyon announced.  "Weighing in at 214 pounds, being accompanied to the ring by Clair...CUTTHROAT!"  Cutthroat slapped hands with the fans along the aisle as he strode toward the ring, the beauteous Clair bestowing high-fives on other lucky fans.  Upon reaching the ring Cutthroat slid under the rope, turning and raising his hands in the air.  The crowd roared in approval as Fugue watched from behind, still smiling.

 

  "Cutthroat hasn't been that lucky in the SJL as of late," Axis noted.  "He and Kojack were defeated by X Force 9 Wednesday on Metal."

 

  "But he won his match against T-Bone a week ago on Crimson," Edwin replied.

 

  "Ah, yes.  The...Spread Eagle on a Car Match," the King added.  He and Edwin caught each other's eyes and broke down sniggering.

 

  "Now, now...I think Cutthroat showed great, uh, testicular fortitude in that match," Axis replied.

 

  Both the other announcers stared at him.

 

  Cutthroat tossed his shirt and sunglasses to the crowd, then turned to face his opponent.  He raised his eyebrows as he saw Fugue staring into space, swaying gently to the beat of an unknown melody.

 

  DINGINGING!

 

  "And this match is underway!" Axis yelled.  The Suicide King made a mark on a paper in front of him.  Axis turned and blinked.  "What's that?"

 

  The King grinned.  "Just a running tally of...cliches."

 

  Cutthroat and Fugue were dancing around the ring, watching each other.  Suddenly they came together, locking up.  Cutthroat got Fugue in a collar-and-elbow, then pushed him away.  Fugue bounced off the ropes and ran back, only to run into a spinning heel kick, the crowd cheering as he went down.

 

  "The more experienced Cutthroat gets first blood in this match," Axis said.

 

  "What?  Hey, nobody bleeds just from a KICK," the King said, staring at Axis.

 

  "Uh, just a figure of speech, King."

 

  "Moron," Edwin added.  The King snorted.

 

  Fugue got to his feet and lunged forward, locking up with Cutthroat again.  Clair clapped her hands encouragingly as Cutthroat threw Fugue away again, but this time Cutthroat ducked his head and received a kick to the face.  As he staggered upright, Fugue quickly ducked down and grabbed Cutthroat around the waist, throwing him backward onto the mat.

 

  "Cutthroat telegraphed that one!" Axis noted as referee Eddy Long dove into position.  "A Northern Lights Suplex into a bridging cover, One--and Cutthroat kicks out at two!"

 

  "Fugue should have known that wouldn't get Cutthroat down," Edwin scoffed.

 

  "It's part of the psychological battle," the King said.  "Just one of the things you should know before being a REAL champion."

 

  "Too bad, then," Edwin replied, ostentatiously straightening his SWF Championship Belt.

 

  "Not for long."  The King smiled.

 

  Cutthroat was warily circling the smiling Fugue.  Clair shouted encouragement from outside the ring, her voice joined by dozens of yelling fans.  Measuring his opponent, Cutthroat dove forward, right hand solidly connecting with Fugue's face.  Fugue staggered back and was met with another right and then a left, then he suddenly dropped straight down, his leg sweeping out--

 

  "Fugue takes Cutthroat down!" Axis said over the growing boos of the crowd.

 

  "Ooh, you DON'T want to be trying to mat wrestle Fugue," the King noted.

 

  "Get up, Cutthroat!" Edwin cried.

 

  Cutthroat tried to push himself up but a kneedrop right in the back drove him down.  Fugue quickly grabbed his downed opponent's right arm and pulled it back, grinning.

 

  "Fujiwara armbar!" Axis said.  "But Cutthroat is fighting out--"  Cutthroat squirmed and bucked his hips, sliding with the pressure underneath his opponent.  He pushed upward and a surprised Fugue fell backward on his back.  "An inside cradle!" Axis yelled.  "One, two--and Fugue kicks out!"

 

  "Nice reversal by Cutthroat there!" Edwin crowed.

 

  "Not bad," the King admitted.

 

  Cutthroat stood, shaking out his arm with a grimace.  He waited as Fugue staggered to his feet, then jumped straight upward, kicking out viciously.

 

  "Beautiful dropkick by the veteran!" Edwin said as the crowd roared its approval.

 

  "Does Cutthroat really count as a 'veteran'?" the King asked, peering at his fellow announcer.

 

  "Well, compared to Fugue..."

 

  "I guess you have a point."

 

  Fugue rolled to the other side of the ring and then into a crouching position, staring over at his opponent...still smiling.  Cutthroat stopped still for a moment to stare back, then shook his head and leaped forward--only to meet a dropkick from Fugue.

 

  Noise swelled from the crowd.  "It's almost a duel of dropkicks!" Axis said.

 

  "Tit for tat," Edwin added.

 

  "What?  Where?"  The King looked around quickly.

 

  Fugue ran forward with a punch but the recovering Cutthroat blocked and grabbed his opponent, flipping him over in a snap suplex.  Quickly getting back to his feet, Cutthroat made another grab at his opponent but was met by an elbow to the gut.  Fugue grabbed Cutthroat's leg and pulled him over, holding onto Cutthroat's leg as he hit the mat on his stomach.

 

  "A nice Dragon screw leg whip, and now Fugue is going for a leg hold--"  Fugue wrapped his legs around Cutthroat's knee and fell back.  "A crucifix--no, a reverse crucifix kneebar!" Axis called.

 

  "A variant on Fugue's normal hiza jujigatame!" Edwin cried.

 

  The King opened his mouth, but then blinked and stared at Edwin.

 

  "Cutthroat's not taking this lying down, though!" Axis continued.  Cutthroat kicked back with his other leg and squirmed around, slipping out of the hold as he scored a hit on Fugue's shoulder.  He quickly kicked Fugue in the back and then ran the ropes, landing on his opponent with a kneedrop.  "Fugue felt that one!" Axis said.  "And now it looks like he wants to regroup!"  Fugue rolled out of the ring and staggered to his feet--and found himself face to face with Clair.

 

  "Oh, no!" Edwin cried.

 

  "Uhoh," the King muttered.

 

  Clair shrank back as the crowd yelled at Fugue.  Fugue grinned widely at her, then turned to see Cutthroat hanging over the ropes and yelling at him.  Fugue put his hands on his hips and smiled, then raised his hands in defense as Cutthroat jumped out of the ring at him.

 

  The crowd's intensity redoubled.  "Cutthroat hits a cross-body splash out of the ring onto Fugue!"  Axis said.  "And now these two brave combatants are going at it right in front of us!"

 

  "An ingenious high-risk move by Cutthroat!" Edwin said, grinning.

 

  "But will it pay off!" Axis cried.  The King rolled his eyes.

 

  Cutthroat and Fugue were both on their feet, trading blows.  Eddy Long yelled at them from the ring.  "Come on!  Back in the ring!  Three!...Four!..."  Cutthroat suddenly threw a nasty uppercut, rocking Fugue on his heels.

 

  "The Razor Punch!" Edwin crowed.

 

  Cutthroat grabbed Fugue by the hair and raised his hand, drinking in the surge of approval from the Cutthroatholics in the audience.  He walked back to the apron and rolled in just as the ref counted to 'Eight'--but then was yanked back out by Fugue, falling to the mat outside the ring.

 

  "Ouch!" Axis winced.

 

  "He's still standing after the Razor Punch?!?" Edwin gasped.

 

  "Heh.  Fugue allowed Cutthroat to break the count."  The King grinned.  "And now he has him right where he wanted him in the first place--outside the ring."

 

  Fugue shook his head a few times, then grabbed Cutthroat's right arm and dragged him toward the announce table, eliciting a groan from the prone wrestler.  He shot a grin at Clair, who was yelling at him, then jumped up and landed knee-first on Cutthroat's shoulder.

 

  "Fugue is definitely working on that shoulder!" Axis said as the referee began counting again.

 

  "Uhoh--oh no, he's not going to do THIS again?"  Edwin groaned.

 

  "Looks like it to me."  The King smiled widely.

 

  Fugue rolled into the ring as Eddy Long counted to 'Four'.  He nodded agreeably at the referee's yelling, then herded him to one side.  As Cutthroat staggered to his feet, Fugue ran the ropes and jogged across the ring--then jumped between the first and second ropes, barrelling headfirst into Cutthroat and knocking him back down.  A gasp of astonishment went up from the crowd, quickly changing to boos.  Fugue got to his feet, shook his head and fell forward, kicking upward into a flip and landing back-first on his moaning opponent.

 

  "A dive of some kind through the ropes at Cutthroat," Axis commented, standing up to peer down at Cutthroat, "followed by a standing senton!"

 

  "Los Luchadores!" the King cheered.  At Edwin's look, he grinned.  "What, you never saw that show, Edwin?"

 

  "Well, I--it's just that your accent sucks," Edwin sniffed.

 

  "So does yours, limey bastard."

 

  "Uh, settle down, you two," Axis said hurriedly.

 

  The King peered past Edwin at him.  "Oh, you want some, Aussie?"

 

  "No, I--Hey, look at that!"  The camera caught Fugue in the ring again.  His grin even wider (if that was possible), he ran across the ring and flipped over the top rope right onto the nearly-recovering Cutthroat.  "A beautiful somersault plancha!" Axis concluded.

 

  "Good stuff!" the King noted.

 

  Clair ran over and began yelling at Fugue.  He stood shakily and grinned at her, and she stepped back nervously.  Fugue nodded, then suddenly did a standing backflip, landing stomach-first on the prone Cutthroat.

 

  Edwin jumped as Fugue's feet smacked against the announce table.  "Hey, watch it!" he snapped.  Then he blinked.  "What--oh, for..."

 

  Fugue grabbed Cutthroat's legs and pulled them up in a cover.  After a couple of moments he blinked in surprise, realizing that the referee was standing on the ring and yelling at him again.  He stood up and grinned sheepishly at the announcers, then began to drag Cutthroat back to the ring.  The King shook his head, laughing and laughing.

 

  Edwin stood up.  "You moronic nutjob!" he yelled.  The crowd yelled along with him.

 

  Fugue tossed Cutthroat into the ring, then slipped in after him.  He grinned and brushed his ragged hair back, then raised his arms to the crowd.  "Start the music!" he yelled, and was met with jeers and a couple of thrown drinks.  Shrugging, Fugue bent down to grab hold of Cutthroat--but was met with a hard punch to the jaw.  Fugue staggered back as Cutthroat got shakily to his feet, a huge cheer building from the crowd.

 

  "Cutthroat's back up!" Axis cried.  "And the entire arena is behind him!"

 

  "This could be Cutthroat's big comeback!" Edwin yelled.

 

  The Suicide King smiled.

 

  Cutthroat danced back, then lashed out again.  Fugue reeled, and Cutthroat raised his arms, imploring his fans to give him their strength.  The wave of cheers grew until Cutthroat turned back to meet a backhand chop from Fugue.  Cutthroat stumbled, but punched once and then twice, the cheers building to a crescendo.  Emboldened by the acclimation, Cutthroat leaped onto Fugue's shoulders, locking his legs around Fugue's neck.

 

  Then Fugue dropped to the mat, slamming Cutthroat down back-first.

 

  "Incredible!" Axis yelled as the crowd screamed.  "Cutthroat went for his rana--but Fugue countered into a powerbomb!"

 

  "You can't rana Fugue!" King laughed.  Eddy Long dove into position and slammed his hand against the mat.

 

  Then Fugue pushed Cutthroat over, stood up and began kicking at him.

 

  "Wh--what the heck was that?" Edwin sputtered.

 

  "Er--it looks like Fugue wants to prolong things," Axis said, wincing.  Eddy Long pushed Fugue away, yelling incoherently.  Fugue raised his hands and tried to look innocent, backing away, and Eddy Long went to check on the prone Cutthroat.  Suddenly the audience came alive, roaring their approval.  Fugue looked around and spied Clair standing on the apron.

 

  "Clair has come to defend her man!" Axis said.

 

  "Uhoh--oh, this isn't going to be pretty," the King muttered.

 

  Fugue advanced on the woman as the crowd began to chant her name--"CLAIR!  CLAIR!  CLAIR!  CLAIR!".  Clair was yelling a mile a minute, then suddenly hauled back and slapped Fugue full across the face.  The cheers were deafening as Fugue rocked back--then his body twisted as his hand flew back and returned the blow.

 

  "Clair!" Edwin and the King cried.

 

  Clair reeled, one foot slipping from the apron--but Fugue's hand was caught in her hair, pulling her back up.  He reached down and grabbed the waistband of her pants and raised her into the air, stepping backwards as her body extended upward above him--then he turned her in midair and sat down, sending her crashing down to the mat on her back.

 

  "My God!" Axis yelled.  "Fugue devastates Clair with an Orange Crush!  This is incredible!"  The crowd were on their feet, boos and yells deafening, washing over the arena like a force of nature.

 

  Eddy Long scurried over and poked at Fugue, now standing over the laid-out Clair.  Once again Fugue stepped obligingly back, letting the official check on her.

 

  "The ref should call for a disqualification!" Edwin yelled.

 

  "You mean he should disqualify Cutthroat?" the King asked.  "After all, Clair was attacking Fugue."

 

  "But--"

 

  "Or he should disqualify Fugue for attacking an innocent bystander?"

 

  "...Yes!"

 

  "...moron."

 

  Fugue pulled Cutthroat to his feet, gripping him by the hair.  He turned and grinned to the crowd, soaking up the imprecations hurled at him.  Then he raised his hand and drew it across his neck.

 

  "I think Fugue's mocking Cutthroat!" Axis said.

 

  "No--really?" the Suicide King asked.

 

  After letting every side of the arena see the dazed Cutthroat, Fugue turned him around and wrenched his right arm.  Cutthroat arched back in pain and Fugue caught both his arms in a double chickenwing, then suddenly jumped backwards, dropping Cutthroat to the mat.

 

  "The Coda!" Axis cried.  "And that can only mean one thing!"  Fugue set himself, then flipped forward over his opponent, his body arching into a bridge as Cutthroat was folded up below him.  "Yes!" Axis yelled.  "Fugue has Cutthroat in Harmony!  It's gotta be over!"

 

  The crowd screamed along with Cutthroat.  Hearing the noise, Eddy Long abandoned Clair to run over to peer at Cutthroat's face.  After a tense moment the referee stood and waved his arm to the timekeeper in a well-known signal.

 

  DINGINGING!  Funyon scurried into the ring.  "Your winner," he announced, "by submission--FUGUE!"

 

  "Cutthroat submits!" Axis said.  "This match is over!"

 

  "I wouldn't be too sure of that," the King noted.

 

  The camera focused in on Fugue and Cutthroat, still knotted together in Harmony.  Cutthroat's head was shaking back and forth as he yelled in pain, and Fugue was laughing.  Eddy Long pulled ineffectually at Fugue, then signalled again.

 

  DINGINGING!

 

  The boos were deafening.  "Fugue won't release the hold!" Axis said.

 

  "That sick bastard!" Edwin cried.

 

  "Man after my own heart," the King nodded.

 

  DINGINGING!  The bell seeming ineffective, a bunch of referees ran down to the ring to pull at the combatants.  Fugue rolled out of the knot of bodies, staggering backwards as he got to his feet, a smile still plastered on his face.  He lurched back and pulled Eddy Long from the group.  Long nervously took Fugue's hand and raised it, and Fugue grinned at the yelling crowd.

 

  "Fugue picks up a great victory in his debut match!" Axis noted.

 

  "Not only that, but he leaves two fan favorites laying!" the King added.

 

  "Fugue had better be very careful who he messes with in the SJL," Edwin growled.

 

  "Careful?"  The King grinned.  "You mean 'cautious'?  I don't think Fugue knows the meaning of the word."  The camera flipped to Fugue's grinning face as he walked up the ramp.  "Unless you meant 'thorough' instead?" the King continued.  "He definitely knows what THAT means..."

 

  Axis sighed and rubbed the sweat from his forehead.  "Well, SJL Crimson started off with a bang!" he said, looking into the camera.  "But don't go away--we've got lots more in store for you tonight!  Starting with our NO-DQ MATCH for the SJL TELEVISION TITLE!  Don't go away!"

 

  "'Cause if I have to stay here all night, SO DO YOU!" added the King.

[Guest crusen86]

We fade in on simple blue door, which the camera slowly pans up on… revealing a placard reading ‘XF9’! Footsteps approach the door, and the camera swings around, revealing XF9ers Ced Ordonez and Z! Ced is still in street clothes, but Z is in his ever-present ensemble. Z also has a conspicuous black briefcase in his right hand, which is actually HANDCUFFED to his wrist. Ced and he are in the middle of a conversation…

 

Ced: “…and so he wasn’t totally sure who he wanted to take over, but he promised a surprise.”

 

Z: “Oh boy. He likes surprises. I happen to not like his surprises. Eh, as long as it isn’t Poisyn or something, I think I’ll be okay.”

 

Ced: “Heh, yeah.”

 

The two walk up to the doorway, coming to a stop. Ced opens the door halfway, and turns back to Z.

 

Ced: “Okay, so you sure you’ll be alright with finding a tag partner?”

 

Z: “Of course! I’ve narrowed it down to roughly…”

 

Z reaches into his jacket’s inside pocket, producing a ratty notepad. He flips trough a couple pages.

 

Z: “Uh… two dozen people. Plus a couple phone numbers.” [sighs] “I think I’ve got a LONG night ahead of me. You SURE you can’t help?”

 

Ced: “Sorry, Zeester. If I can still move after the match with Danny Williams, I’ll be lucky.”

 

Z: “Man…”

 

Ced(chuckles): “Don’t worry! I’m the Submission Mark, remember? I’ve got the unbeatable power of Yugi Nagata’s finisher behind me!”

 

Z(laughs): “Yeah, yeah… I’ll see you later, then?”

 

Ced: “Lates, Z.”

 

Z turns to head away, as Ced begins to enter the locker room. Suddenly remembering something, he stops and turns around

 

Ced: “Oh! And before I forget… what’s in the briefcase?”

 

Z pauses and looks over his shoulder.

 

Z: “Heh… my last resort.”

 

Z grins and walks away, as Ced gives him a weird look. He shakes his head and enters the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as we fade out…

[Guest crusen86]

SJL interviewer Ben Hardy is outside a dressing room with the name Franchise scrolled across the door, cameraman in tow.

 

Hardy: I’m outside the locker room of “The Franchise” Mak Francis as we hope to get a word with him in regards to his No Disqualification match-up for Television Title against Taylor Nicholas Thompson.

 

As he enters Tyler Kinkel can be seen wrapping black athletic tape up to Francis’s forearm, while Francis is soaking his other elbow in a bowl of ice sitting on a table, flexing his hand. His eyes are closed and he’s wearing a pair of headphones over a red backwards Phillies cap and sporting an unbuttoned short sleeved blue silk shirt, ash gray jeans and a pair of black timberland boots. As sound softly emits from the CD player on the table through Francis’s headphones, Hardy speaks up.

 

Hardy: Mr. Francis?

 

Kinkel finishes taping the left forearm and grabs the white athletic tape now re-taping the left wrist. Hardy looks on as Kinkel wraps over that with a green colored tape finally finishing the tedious covering.

 

Hardy: Mak…

 

Francis bobs his head to an unheard beat while Kinkel starts to tape the other wrist with the white athletic tape. You can see Francis’s face twitch as his smile turns to a scowl.

 

Kinkel: I’ll talk with you in a second Hardy! I’m almost done Mak.

 

Kinkel finishes up with the green tape and Francis opens his eyes noticing Hardy for the first time. He lowers his headphones to his neck, eyes lighting up and a giddy smile rising to the corner of his lips as he silently stares at Hardy and the cameraman.

 

Hardy: So what are your thoughts on your up coming match-

 

Kinkel: Taylor Nicholas Thompson…you think that you’re anything compared to wrestling’s prodigy. You dare to call other men sports entertainers and yet what have you done in terms of real wrestling. Were you ever an All-American? How about four times? Were you ever in the NCAA…how about Division I…US Amateur Champion? Was it with a concussion at the time? Was it all for the US fans? Were you ever anything at all?

 

Hardy: Right now he has what your man Francis wants to be…the TV champ…and he’s also a man that exploded all over “The Franchise” and you too Mr. Kinkel. Nearly two weeks ago he put you out of action in a match that Mak received a disqualification win but also caught as the Suicide King put it “an old school verbal and physical ass kicking, courtesy of T ‘n’ D!” Roll the footage…

 

[Fade to match]

 

[sJL Crimson 5/17 flashes on the screen with a blood dripping animation]

 

“Deathwish” Danny Williams picks Francis up to the standing position. He kicks him in the gut and hits a stiff high angle DDT that causes the blood to flow again from Francis’s wound on METAL. TNT, previously on one knee is now up and coaching Danny on how to hurt Francis more.

 

[Cuts to a different camera angle]

 

Kinkel comes to the ring apron but TNT sunset flips over the top rope and Kinkel placing him under Francis’s mentor and he hits a Powerbomb from apron to outside. Kinkel is on the mat holding his neck as TNT spits on Kinkel. He slides back into the ring as Danny picks Francis up onto his shoulder and drives his head into the mat with a sit-out tombstone piledriver. Francis literally bounces up into the air after impact and falls to the ground banging his right leg against the canvas.

 

[Cuts to another camera angle]

 

TNT hooks one arm of Francis’s and then the other as TNT yells to the crowd “Are you Ready!” He lifts Francis up into the air and screams three words that bring Francis to his senses for only a second “Watch me explooooooooddddeee!!!!!” Francis’s only able to here these words and nothing else except for deafening quiet as TNT drives Francis on his back and neck into the mat with a Tiger Driver 92’.

 

[Fades back to the locker room]

 

 

 

Kinkel: Sure, TNT’s a big bad man. Six foot six, two hundred and sixty seven pounds. He’s C4 waiting to explode in your face but he’s not a Franchise. This time there will be no “Deathwish” Danny Williams to attack Mak, as he has alienated his only comrade, proving himself to be one badass son of a bitch! And this time there will be no disqualification for Thompson to keep his belt with! It’ll just be a battle, with bones broken and blood flowing, all for the TV title and the fans just like their last match. But the only real difference is this time the only explosion that will be heard is that of every SJL fanatic chanting “Franchise” as T-N-T’s cranium crashes to the canvas and a new Television Champion is born.

 

Hardy: Why so positive that “The Franchise” can get the “W” against a man the caliber of TNT? Some people say he’s already World Title material!

 

Kinkel: And yet he’s never gotten a win over this man. Mak has won a US amateur gold metal proving his worth for all to see. I’m not flaunting, just stating a true crowning achievement for this young man, "The Franchise" Mak Francis. Most people would do anything just to be able to tell their grandkids that they were once great, let alone show them a gold medal. But Thompson on the other hand…he’s done nothing to prove me wrong but hide his belt from worthy opponents…like Mak. Were you ever anything TNT? Ask yourself this question and learn the real answer. So I ask you right now Taylor Nicholas Thompson, can you prove me wrong? Can you beat this worthy Television title opponent? Can you beat this man? I don’t think you can!

 

[Mak shakes his head no as the camera zooms in on his face and slowly backs away]

 

Hardy: This is one of the most viscous monsters in the SJL. A man that decimated Francis two weeks ago and before that destroyed one of the SJL’s best in former European Champion Tod deKindes. This guys not messing around and has proven himself time and time again in the ring. I’d shutter to think what type of beating a heel of a man like TNT could do to the career of this kid no matter how good his fans or any fans for that matter think he is.

 

Kinkel: He knew then that he couldn’t beat Mak…he’s quaking in fear now because he knows can’t beat Mak tonight…and when he’s staring up at the lights, the fans are chanting Franchise and Funyon says those words…”And your NEW SJL Television Champion Maaaaaaaak Fraaaaaaaaanciiiiiis!” he’ll realize he just wasn’t Franchise level!

 

[Francis eyes never waver from the camera as he speaks for the first time]

 

Francis: Ben Hardy…TNT knows the TV title is in my future. It just a perk of being me…“The Franchise” Mak Francis. It’s why I get the franchise bucks, the franchise perks and the franchise tag! I’d stake his gold on it!

[Guest crusen86]

The screen cuts back from commercial break to show a picture-perfect shot displaying the Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena, in Gladville, Tennessee! Outside remain a bundle of rednecks who appropriately appear to be smoking sausage, and two large neon signs that informatively read: “SJL CRIMSON! SOLD OUT!” and “TICKETS ON SALE! TAXI DRIVER: THE INTERPRETIVE DANCE!” The screen abruptly cuts to the interior of the arena, as the 2 better 3rd’s (Axis and King) of the announcing trio engage in a heated game of Connect-Four as Edwin enthusiastically scans the pages of “Moby Dick: The Popup Book.” Just as Axis is about to berate Suicide for cheating, he takes notice of the camera and immediately straightens his tie and gets to work.

 

Axis: “Ahem. Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, we’re here LIVE in Tennessee, the…Tennis State…I suppose, and revving up for some more SJL CRIMSON!!! We’ve already witnessed the debut of JL newcomer Fugue, who showed his stuff in a truly spectacular bout, but now it’s time for a match that will surely prove to be just as and/or more wonderful than the previous matchup!”

King: “That’s right ladies and gents. Taylor Nicholas Thompson, who was royally screwed out of a win against Tod deKindes last Wednesday, is readying himself to take his anger out on some relative fresh blood here in the JL, Mak Francis!”

Edwin: “Yippy skippy! I’m truly ecstatic for this matchup; as it remains Taylor’s chance at a second win, coming back from an important loss against Tod deKindes. TNT has been…how can I put this…going off his rocker as of late, destroying everything left and right in a path of proverbial rage! This guy is one pissed off pyromaniac, and as King stated, he’s sure to take out his rage on Mak Francis himself!”

Axis: “Indeedy-doo. We go backstage now to Ben Hardy, who is attempting to get a quick word or two out of TNT.”

 

The screen pans the backstage area where various wrestlers are seen preparing for their respectable matches, as they all participate in a group-rendition of Patty-Cake. The camera stops on Ben Hardy, who is standing next to a significantly built figure soon revealed as TNT.

 

Ben: “Um, Mr. TNT, what are your thoughts concerning your loss last Metal, and how it will effect your matchup tonight?”

TNT (speaking slowly and methodically with a hint of insanity in the tone of his voice): “Hehehehehe. HAHAHAHA! MY THOUGHTS!? You want MY THOUGHTS ON MY LOSS!? Well, I’m consumed in a sea of emotion right now Benny-boy, I’m drowning in an ocean of rage, fury, and hate. Hehehehe. But you shouldn’t be asking ME. You should be asking Mak Francis after our match tonight. For you see Ben, Mak is going to go in there tonight with me, and he’s going to have to feel legions and legions of pain, suffering, blood, tears, anger, rage, savageness, and insanity taken out on HIM. He’s going to have to feel me free myself of worries by kicking his ass all over the arena tonight. He’s going to have to feel…no no, let me correct myself, he’s going to watch…me…explode.”

Ben: “Righto. Back to you guys.”

 

The screen cuts back to the heated crowd, amped for the next match.

 

Edwin: “Wowza! Interesting choice of words by TNT!”

King: “Indeed. But damn, I was hoping the interview would consist of him giving me about 6 woman that I could take into a dark room and…”

Axis: “We go down now to Funyon, who is ready to introduce the competitors for the next bout!”

 

The camera cuts to Funyon, dressed in his usual K-Mart suit, presumably brand new by the lack of mustard splotches that usually manifest his other clothing. Tons-of-Fun acquires a microphone, as his booming voice echoes throughout the arena.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen and Suicide King…”

King: “I seriously need to tell him to stop doing that…”

Funyon: “Cock lovers and non-cock lovers alike, this contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is fro the SJL TELEVISION CHAMPIONSIP BELT! This is a no-disqualification matchup as count-outs and disqualifications are NOT in effect! (takes full advantage of the crowd reaction, soaking up their thunderous “STRAN-GLER” chants…) Um, ladies and gentlemen I’m sorry to say that the Boston Strangler is not participating in this matchup. (boos) Ahem. Introducing, weighing in at a lean, mean 225 pounds, hailing from the depths of Philadelphia, accompanied to the ring by Tyler Kinkel, he is the Franchise, MAK FRANCIS!!!”

 

Blue and white strobe lights flash on and off relentlessly as “Down With The Sickness” by Disturbed blares from the loudspeakers, with a digitalized voice repeating the lyrics. Suddenly, a set of pyro flairs from the stage as “THE FRANCHISE IS HERE!” sounds throughout the building. The audience shows their appreciation as suddenly, a rather petite silhouette emerges from the depths of the backstage area, one hand raised in the air foreshadowing a Franchise victory, and the other holding a small rectangular board. The sporadic lights illuminate this mysterious figure, revealing it to be Tyler Kinkel! With one momentous burst, yet another set of pyro launch into the atmosphere as a larger form materializes from the unknown depths that lie behind the curtain: Mak Francis! Mak methodically strides down the entrance ramp as the still radiant strobe lights illuminate his impressive physique. The Franchise reaches the ring, slides into the squared circle, and rids himself of his navy blue sunglasses, hurling them out into the enthusiastic Tennessee crowd. Just as Disturbed’s rhythmic tunes come to an end, Tyler Kinkel reaches the announcer’s table, sitting down next to Axis, and outstretching his hand in search of a headset, which he soon acquires…

 

Tyler: “Jiminy Cricket! I tell you, there’s no place like home…and the SJL commentator’s booth!”

Edwin: “Word dawg. So Kinky, may I call you Kinky?”

Tyler: “Well actually I prefer…”

Edwin: “So Kinky, how exactly do you size up Mak’s competition, Taylor Thompson?”

Tyler: “Well, I’m glad you asked. You know, TNT may have his ‘I’m going to kill you’s and ‘You’re already dead’s, but to that I say ‘HA!’ You see Eddie Mac, Axle, Queen…”

King: “I would usually take that as a gender-related insult, but it’s just so hard to hate ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ so I think I’ll let it slide…”

Tyler: “Um…yeah. You see, Taylor may be bigger, stronger…”

Axis: “Don’t forget crazier.”

Tyler (awkwardly): “Hehe…eh. Um, thanks for reminding me Axis, how could I forget crazier. So anyhoo, TNT may be all that, but Francis is the Franchise. He’s an Olympic gold-medallist for goodness sake. I mean, I've coached Olympic gold-medallists before, but hey, only the best can coach a Franchise.”

Edwin: “Didn’t Bob Sagat actually coach him at one point?”

Tyler: “Um, yes. But that was before the whole ‘best to coach a Franchise’ thing was made up, so it doesn’t count.”

Axis: “I am so on the same page as you. Sadly however I’m going to have to skip ahead a bit and go down to Funyon, who is ready to announce our next competitor!”

 

Mak meanders inside the ring, testing the ring ropes, as Funyon travels to the center of the ring to make the announcement…

 

Funyon: “The second competitor in this bout, weighing in at 267 pounds, hailing from Anaheim, California, The longest reigning Television champion of all time, ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson!”

 

“Oy! Oy! Oy!”

 

The first few beats of AC/DC’s “TNT” resound throughout the arena, as a hail of boos rains upon the entranceway, both in an oral manner, and in the literal alcohol-related manner. The letters “T-N-T” slink across the Smarktron as “WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOODDDEEEE!!!!!!” is heard by the ecstatic audience.

 

Axis: “…”

King: “…”

Edwin: “…”

Tyler: “Well, where the hell is he!?”

Edwin: “Um. I’m not sure. Oh well (fiddling with monitor,) who cares about the match, Gilligan’s Island is on.”

King: “And Mary-Ann is hot!”

Axis: “Wait…wait…there seems to be some commotion up there in the audience…”

 

Just as Axis inquired, a collection of bustling is heard, as a towering figure hops the guardrail! TNT’s TV title glistens in the spotlights as Taylor swiftly slides into the ring, unbeknownst to Francis.

 

Tyler: “LOOK OUT FRANCHISE! LOOK OUT!”

 

*CRACK*

 

*** DING DING DING ***

 

The resounding noise of gold hitting bone and three consecutive chimes of the ring bell mark the start of the match. As Mak sprawls out onto the mat, grasping at the back of his skull.

 

Axis: “TNT blindsides the oblivious Franchise with the very belt that he is defending, and before the match had even begun I might add!”

Tyler: “I can’t watch!”

King: “I can!”

Edwin: “Taylor makes the cover, but is it too early?”

King: “Never, early bird gets the worm as they always say! Where’s Kivell? Count pansy, count!”

Kivell: “One! Two! Thre…”

Tyler: “YES!”

King: “NO!”

Edwin: “Um, maybe so?”

 

Mak struggles as he desperately elevates his arm a mere fraction of an inch off of the mat. The crowd goes nuts, bananas, and various other assortments of food products as he does so, as a fast-paced “Mak! Mak! Mak!” chant erupts from the on-looking arena. A surge of energy seems to flow through Mak suddenly, as he immediately hops to his knees, as Taylor slows his progress with several boots to the back of his head! Mak quivers uncontrollably, attempting to shake off the inevitable pain, as he slowly but surely positions himself in a fully erect posture! An Irish-whip exchange takes place, as Taylor sends Francis hurtling across the ring, and catches him on the rebound with a clothesline…which misses horribly. Francis reverberates off of the ropes once more, coming back with a low dropkick, clipping Taylor right in the knee! Thompson immediately crumbles to the mat, grunting loudly as he holds his knee, grimacing in pain.

 

Taylor: “Did you see the form in that dropkick? Amazing!”

King: “Yeah, about as amazing as when Edwin made a vibrator out of an old sock and a few cans of Vanilla Coke.”

Edwin: “Ok so it was a bad idea. Sue me.”

King: “Yeah the vibrator was okay but what about when you kidnapped that dog and…”

Edwin: “Drop it King.”

King: “And then you took him into that dark room…”

Edwin: “Drop it.”

Axis: “As you may notice Taylor looks physically destroyed by that dropkick, having had his leg torn apart last Metal by Tod deKindes.”

King: “And then you grabbed that plunger and…”

Edwin: “I said drop it.”

 

TNT stands to his feet, still holding his left leg, as Francis runs off of the ropes again, this time telegraphing a spear right into Taylor’s knee! Thompson catches him in mid charge however, planting his to the mat with a butterfly suplex out of nowhere! He makes the cover.

 

Kivell: “One! Two!”

Axis: “You can still see the fatigue in Francis from the belt shot earlier in the match, but he’s somehow back up onto his feet!”

Tyler: “The franchise is truly proving to being…franchisable…I guess.”

 

Mak shakes off his dazed state of mind, as his eyes meet with TNT’s and the two exchange intimidating glances. Suddenly, with a surge of adrenalin, Francis hurls himself at the ropes, bouncing back at the dynamite warrior! Taylor raises his head, alert of Mak’s bombardment, and elongates his injured left feet, delivering a kick to his opponent’s midsection. Mak catches Taylor’s leg, and yanks on it, sending him toppling to the ground as he pretzels his legs in strange manners, hooking on a figure four leg lock! Taylor grimaces in pain while he screams out for mercy, shouting “NEVER!” at Mathew Kivell’s persistent insistence on his relinquish.

 

Axis: “Figure four lock by the Franchise! Can TNT escape such a devastating maneuver?”

Tyler: “And with his leg all wacked out of its socket? I think not Axle!”

Axis: “Please, call me Axis.”

Tyler: “Fuck you.”

Axis: “Fair enough.”

 

Taylor methodically edges to the side of the ring, mere inches away from grasping the ring ropes, as Mak cinches up on the hold, not letting Thompson budge at all! TNT unextends his reaching arm, signaling his defeat, as suddenly, a scheme ganders into his head. With much determination, Taylor sways as desperately as possible, tilting Mak over onto his stomach, and reversing the methodical and diabolical tactic in the process! Mak winces with anguish painted on his face for an instant, but quickly compromises by rolling over once more, which proves to be too far, as both men tumble under the ring ropes, off of the apron and to the soda-covered floor a full yard below! Both men land with a “plop” as their legs disconnect from eachother and they grimace in pain. The grapplers recover faster than Ahmed Johnson can say “constellation,” so basically within three minutes. Mak is the first to collect himself, as he approaches TNT, revs his arm backwards, and thrusts it forward and across Taylor’s chest forming a knife-edge chop (accompanied by legions of “woos” as usual.) Thompson staggers backwards grasping at his reddened chest, but Mak capitalizes by going through the motions once more and delivering yet another chop to his chest! Francis prepares for a third slap, as Taylor charges full force at him (with a noticeable limp) and leaps off of the mat with his knee prominently in the air, as it soars right into the Franchise’s jaw!

 

Axis: “A brutal knee-lift by TNT, as Mak is sent stumbling backwards and into the guardrail!”

Taylor: “Maybe. But look at the explosive one! He too finds himself in pain, as he used his bad leg in the move! What a bozo!”

Edwin: “Like Bozo the clown?”

Taylor: “No. More like Jar-Jar Binks.”

 

Thompson recovers immediately however, as Mak uses the guardrail as best he can as a rubber band, rebounding off of it and charging right back at TNT with a flying body press! Taylor catches him mid-move, spins around a few times simply to egg on a steadily increasing “You suck!” chant, and falls backwards, as Mak soars over his head and a few feet of soaring later, lands on the mat with a thud!

 

Axis: “Very impressive reversal by TNT, as he hurls Mak to the mat with a fallaway slam!”

King: “The Franchise went for a highflying maneuver, which is not his most impressive area. Mak thought Taylor was dazed enough to pull such a high risk maneuver on, but he thought wrong!”

 

Thompson hones in on the fallen corpse of the Franchise, as he clasps his fingers around his hair, and yanks him to his feet. Thompson lifts his arm upward, ready for a wild haymaker, as Mak strides a step to the side, dodging the punch, and stumbling into the ring bell table instead! Francis composes a “eureka” expression on his face, as he grasps a hold of the ring bell, and thrusts it in front of him as he dives at Taylor!

 

*DING!*

 

A half-ringing, half-cracking sound is heard by the sickened audience, as they gasp at Taylor’s crushed in skull, accompanied by amply flowing blood.

 

Tyler: “Ding dong! The witch is dead!”

 

Suddenly, a resounding beeping sound is heard, as the camera cuts to the announcer’s table, which displays Edwin rapidly reading a fax.

 

King: “What the fuck is that?”

Axis: “It’s a fax King.”

King (looking around, confused): “What the fuck is a fax?”

Axis: “Ugh. Eddie, what does it say?”

Edwin (reading): “From a guy that calls himself ‘5_moves_of_doom.”

King: “Who the hell is that?”

Edwin (still reading): “And I quote: ‘Boston Strangler rules all. TBS is da bomb. Anyone who begs to differ will die a pitiful and lonely death involving 1800 pounds of Play-Dough and a Chuwawa.”

King: “Sounds like a suck up to me.”

Axis: “Indeed.”

 

Suddenly, the Boston Strangler himself randomly pops up from under the announcer’s table…

 

TBS (winking repeatedly): “Indeed!”

Axis: “…”

Edwin: “…”

King: “…”

Taylor: “…”

Edwin: “Moving right along.”

 

The screen cuts back to the ring, where it reveals Mak Francis inside the ring, ring bell in hand, relentlessly taunting his opponent, who is supporting himself on the ring apron, attempting to reenter the ring. Thompson rolls under the bottom ring rope, as Mak allows him to collect himself and stand, only to knock him back down by dropkicking the ring bell into his knee! Thompson drops faster than Matt LeBlanc’s movie career, holding his knee in pain.

 

Axis: “Jeebus! How long can TNT go on with that bad leg?”

Taylor (looking at watch): “Exactly 7 minutes and 47 seconds.”

Edwin: “Um. Righto.”

 

Mak paces around the ring, circling Taylor like Al Rocker circling a Big Mac. Suddenly, he lightly reverberates off of a set of ring ropes, darting toward TNT and delivering a knee drop right into the back of his calf!

 

King: “Now in this match you can see the Franchise strategically honing in on Taylor’s injured leg. This is very reminisce of when I was SWF world champion…and Edwin wasn’t, I used to often work my opponents into submission with several low blows and…”

Edwin: “Or what about right NOW? I’m SWF world champ, and The King of Farts isn’t…is he? IS HE!?”

King: “Yeah, well at least I won the belt from a worthy opponent…”

Edwin: “The same opponent that I retired? And by the way I won the belt from the longest reigning champ ever!”

King: “Oh really? How long did he hold the belt? What? Nine days?”

TBS: “Well actually EIGHTY nine days.”

King: “Oh shut up Mangler.”

TBS: “…”

 

As Strangler hops upon Suicide, delivering several rapid punches to his face, the camera abruptly cuts to the action INSIDE the ring. Both competitors on their feet, Francis enthusiastically bolts at the explosive one, once again going for a spear directly into knee! Thompson catches Mak around the waste, wrapping his toned arms around his midsection, lifting him up for a butterfly suplex, but halting halfway as he winces in pain and his leg gives out, causing him to plunge Mak headfirst into the mat with an awkward DDT! Francis literally bounces off of the mat as TNT makes the cover…

 

Kivell: “One! Two!”

 

Mak raises an arm in desperation, as Thompson slaps the mat with an aggravated expression on his face. Thompson’s expression transition’s from angry to evilly giddy within a moment’s time however, as a broad smile makes its way onto his bloodied face, and he slowly saunters out to the outskirts of the ring.

 

Axis: “What the hell is Taylor doing?”

Edwin: “It seems that he is looking to take advantage of the no disqualification stipulations!”

King: “This reminds me of when I was SWF…”

Axis: “NO MORE CHAMPION STORIES!”

King: “Oh like you don’t brag about when you were champ…hey…you WEREN’T ever the champion!”

Edwin: “Say, you’re right King!”

King: “No wonder he’s always so dull…”

Edwin: “And lacks anything that might resemble a personality...”

King: “And doesn’t have a girlfriend…”

Axis: “Silence village idiots.”

King: “Ok Mr. I was never SWF world champion.”

Axis: “Shut the fuck up!”

Tyler: “Wait, what the hell is TNT grabbing at under the ring?”

Axis: “…”

Edwin: “…”

King: “…”

Axis: “OH MY GOD! NO!”

King: “WOOHOO! LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR!”

Edwin: “I like sausage bunnies.”

 

As Edwin’s fellow commentators stare at him uneasily, a resounding collective gasp is heard from the crowd…

 

Tyler: “He’s got a metal baseball bat!”

Axis: “The same metal bat that he used to attack Mak and yourself just a mere week ago!”

 

The camera cuts to the squared circle’s interior, where Taylor Thompson stands, baseball bat in hand, egging on Mak as he struggles to gain his posture. Francis stands to his feet, as Thompson reels back and…

 

*Whiff*

 

The sound of a metal shaft cutting through the air is heard by the audience as Mak ducks, and plants Taylor into the mat with a spinebuster! Thompson crashes to the mat as the baseball rolls to the edge of the ring, just out of Thompson’s reach! Mak regains a conscious state of mind, and drapes his corpse over Thompson’s corpse.

 

Kivell: “One! Two!”

 

Thompson kicks out with an abrupt rush of energy, as Mak kips up and turns to referee Mathew Kivell. As Mak verberally berates the ref, Taylor stands up, staggering around incoherently. Francis twirls around, presumably to finish off his opponent, but is met by a stiff boot to his stomach! Taylor delivers a few right hands to Mak’s skull, as he grunts with each hit. Thompson, still dazed and confused, thrusts Mak’s head in between his legs, sitting down with a viscous piledriver! The Franchise’s cranium springs off of the mat as Thompson hooks his leg…

 

Kivell: “One! Two! Thre…”

 

Thompson pounces up, enraged, as he stomps around the ring with a furious composition. He grabs Mak by the hair, bringing him up to eye level, only to dart behind him and grasp him in a rear waist lock! Mak suddenly becomes alert of his position, as he drives his elbow repeatedly into TNT’s face! Thompson grunts, but is quick to disable his opponent as he slowly shoves him into a full nelson! Thomson yelps out a “KABOOM!” to the audience, as he quickly falls backwards, driving Mak’s head into the mat! Taylor works his way into a bridge predicament, making the pin.

 

Kivell: “One! Two!”

Axis: “Yet another kick out by Mak!”

Taylor: “Well, an Olympic competitor must have the stamina of an ox…”

King: “Or of me in the ring.”

TBS: “Or of me in bed.”

Edwin (perplexed): “Why on Earth are you still here?”

TBS: “Oddly enough I don’t know.”

 

As Strangler walks out of view, the camera wipes to the ring, where Taylor once again has pried Mak from the mat! He grabs him in a waist lock, preparing for a belly-to-belly suplex, but the move is quickly interrupted by Mak, who delivers a few standing double axe handles to Thompson! Taylor staggers back a bit, but just as Mak comes lumbering at him with his arm elongated for a palm thrust, he regains his logic, and dodges the move, grabs Mak by the hair, and thrusts his head between his legs once more! Thompson hurriedly hooks Francis’ arms, as he raises Mak’s feet off of the ground, bringing him up in a powerbomb position! Taylor gets Mak a good three feet off of the mat when suddenly a shot of pain surges throughout his body causing his leg to give out, as he drops Mak down to the mat, unharmed, and grabs his pained leg. Francis witnesses this, and grabs Taylor’s leg, pulling it out from under him! Thompson falls to his back, as Mak slowly positions himself into a…

 

Tyler: “FIRGURE FOUR!”

 

A loud, high-pitched shriek rings throughout the building as Mak wrenches on the hold as firmly as he can. Thompson shrieks, and outreaches his arm to make the tap! As his hand comes down to the mat in a tapping motion, he strikes pay dirt, as it comes right upon his metal baseball bat! Thompson grabs a hold of the bat…

 

Tyler: “Well fuck this.”

 

*CRACK!*

 

The resounding noise of metal-on-flesh echoes out, as Thompson sweeps the bat down in one swift motion, cracking it over Mak’s head. Legions of blood immediately shoot from Mak’s head, as he falls limply to the mat. Still in the figure four position, Mak falls unconscious, as the ref counts the pin, with both of Mak’s shoulders on the mat.

 

Kivell: “One! Two! Three!”

 

***DING DING DING***

 

Axis: “Mak is pinned to the mat while at the same time applying a submission hold to his opponent!”

Tyler: “Fuck!”

Axis: “This is a children’s show Mr. Kinkel.”

Edwin: “Yeah Mr. Not SWF World champion is right.”

Axis: “Fuck you, you fuck eating fuck faced mother fucking fuck fucker!”

 

An awkward silence falls over the commentators as a soothing AC/DC tune kicks up, and a final shot displays Thompson still flat on his back, with a single arm raised in the air as a proverbial elephant of boos steps on him…or something.

[Guest crusen86]

Francis staggers up from the mat bleeding profusely from the face as TNT has managed to limp up the entrance ramp with his belt in hand, and is about to go through the curtain. Suddenly, Francis stumbles from the ring and takes Funyon’s mic without much protest from the announcer. He rolls back into the ring and the crowd gives a big reaction causing TNT to turn around, perplexed.

 

Francis: Thompson get back here! We’re not finished yet! I’m not finished yet! I want you right now!

 

Suicide King: Francis asking for another beating at the hands of TNT already? Gee wiz.

 

Axis: I think it's admirable even though he'd get his ass kicked.

 

Francis tries to wipe his blood-spattered face with his taped wrist but it quickly becomes soaked with blood. The front of his black hair is now highlighted with a deep red hue.

 

Francis: It’s not over, not over by a long shot. I want a rematch for the TV title…in a ladder match. No disqualification, no count out, any chance of mercy out the window! The first man to climb to the top and bring the gold back down is the winner!

 

MacPhisto: Francis's calling TNT out lets here what he has to say in response.

 

TNT turns around smirking and walks into the back. The crowd jeers him but quiets when Francis starts to speak again.

 

King: I guess he doesn't think Francis deserves another shot at his title.

 

Francis:  Thompson, I’m not leaving this ring until you get back out here damnit! Am I going to have to get a chair and sit in the center of this-

 

Suddenly TNT appears back on the stage, mic in hand and he still has that smirk on his face. The crowd really lays into him but all that’s on his mind is a stare down with “The Franchise”. The two men boar holes into each other but finally TNT breaks the staring contest to address Francis’s question.

 

TNT: So you think your ready for me now. You’re not ready nor are these fans to watch me explode again. You can hardly stand after what I’ve done to you. But you’re right “Franchise”. A ladder match for my TV title is like a powder keg waiting to blast. But what do I get out of it. Why should I give you a chance after such a viscous and one sided beating? Do you really think your worthy? What do you have that sets you above all the rest of these no talent jobbers after my belt!

 

Francis stands in the ring leaning on the ropes for support as TNT answers his rhetorical question.

 

TNT: How about this, “Franchise”. How about we do the ladder match for my TV title-

 

The crowd pops huge for the suggestion

 

Francis: I’m going to climb the ladder of success and take you gold with me-

 

TNT: Your gonna take my gold huh? You’re getting a shot at my gold...what do you say I get a shot at yours? How about we have a match where my Television Title Gold is suspended above the ring...

 

crowd again pops huge

 

 

TNT: And you’re US Amateur Gold Metal is right up there with it. The winner of the match gets glory and...all of the gold!

 

Francis:...

 

The crowd cheers for Francis to accept but he looks shaken by the challenge. Finally he brings the mic to his lips and speaks.

 

Francis: Yeah...you've got a match!

 

MacPhisto: I'll book it so it's a definite go. TNT's Television title and Mak Francis's Gold metal will be suspended above the ring in a ladder match. It's "TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson v "The Franchise" Mak Francis in a Gold versus Gold Ladder Match! Wowza! I'm soiling myself with excitement!

 

Axis: I am too Ed, I am too.

 

Edwin: No, you don't understand, I REALLY soiled myself.

 

Edwin retreats to the back for some TP as a commercial break inturrupts...

[Guest crusen86]

The camera fades in on what appears to be one of the numerous hallways in the Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena, zoomed in on a small, porcelain water fountain. The camera pans right, catching a glimpse of the end of a green camouflage coat. The camera pans upward, revealing a coated blue-haired figure to be on a payphone. He shifts the phone on his ear for a few moments… and with a yell of frustrated disgust; Z slams the receiver back on the hook! He turns around, looking considerably less happier than earlier in the evening. With a snort, he takes the ratty notepad and a pen from his jacket, and precariously balancing the pen, book, and black briefcase, he scribbles something down as he walks absently…

 

Z: “Okay, so Sacred isn’t going to return my calls. Hmph, big meanie. Be that way. Who’s next on this list?” [Z squints at his near-illiterate shorthand] “Uh… ‘Stryke: 1-900-739-4968’ Why do I doubt that’s his real number? Okay, who’s next?” [Z squints again] “Hm… Tod deKindes?”

 

Z pauses.

 

Z: “Well, at least he’s a good guy.”

 

Putting away the notepad, Z canvasses down the hallway, winding and turning his way in an almost aimless fashion. He passes a bright orange sign reading ‘Authorized Personnel Only. SJL DRESSING ROOM AREA’ as he turns down a corridor, finding a long row of doors. He passes them by, plaques reading everything from ‘Flexxx’ to ‘Mike Van Siclen’. He finally stops in from of a door with one reading ‘Tod deKindes’.

 

Reaching out with his free hand, Z  raps on the door… to no answer.

 

Z: “Funny…” [He knocks again] “Tod! It’s me, Z!”

 

No answer. Blinking, Z reaches down to the door handle, and finding it unlocked, he pushes down on it. With a quiet ‘kachack’ the door swings open… casting the room in its only light. The crack of light widens as the door opens… finally illuminating the face of Tod deKindes. Said German is sitting alone in the dark locker room, legs crossed in the Lotus position, obviously deep in thought. Z pauses, slightly confused, before…

 

Z: “Um… hello? Tod? Uh… sorry to barge in like this, but you weren’t answering, so, uh…”

 

As Z fumbles with conversation, Tod betrays no response, still focused deep in his thoughts.

 

Z: “…okay… Um, here! I’ll turn some light on here, and--”

 

As Z reaches out for the lightswitch… he is stopped cold as Tod’s arm shoots out, fingers extended at Z! Z blinks, looking a little irked as Tod has yet to look up.

 

Z: “Oh, so, uh, you want to keep the atmosphere? Oh, okay, heh…” [Z tugs at his shirt] “Um, anyway, I guess I should get to the point, right? You, uh, know about the whole handicap tag match thing against Frost… right?”

 

Finally, Tod acknowledges Z, letting his arm drop back to his side, and gazing at him… rather blankly.

 

Z: “Heh… uh, anyway, you know I need a partner, right? So… I was wondering… maybe, if you wouldn’t mind that is, doing double duty… so that… I don’t have to go alone… or… something?”

 

Tod blinks in a deliberate fashion… before breaking his stare with Z, closing his eyes and turning back to look at the ground.  

 

Z: “Oh… I see. I guess I can take that as a no… then?”

 

Once more, Tod gives no response.

 

Z: “O… kay… It’s no problem; I can still find someone else, I s’pose…” [Z chuckles sheepishly] “Um… I guess I let you get back to your meditating! Uh… bye!”

 

With a quiet ‘creak,’ Z closes the door, once again removing all the light from the room. With it firmly shut, Z shakes his head as he reaches for his noptepad…

 

Z: “Freaky. …but I guess that’s another one off my list.” [He sighs as he clicks the pen and crosses Tod’s name out.] So, what’s next…” [He looks at the notepad again, tilting it to one side to try and read it] “How about… ‘Thoth: Bwa Hah Hah-Hah Hah Hah BURN!’”

 

Z pauses.

 

Z: “…I wonder if that’s a local call?”

 

Z blinks and stares at the ceiling thoughtfully, as the camera fades to...

[Guest crusen86]

*** Back from break, there's nothing but darkness on the screen, save for the SJL logo at the lower left corner. An image comes on, but it's from last Wednesday night; Taylor Nicholas Thompson taking on Tod deKindes. ***

 

…

 

 

*** It takes a while, but both men are back to their feet, Tod the slightly fresher of the two. TNT is a quivering mass on his knees, barely distinguishing reality from fantasy. Tod's had enough. He flips his hair back, springs into action, and pumphandles Taylor back on his shoulder. ***

 

Axis: There's a SECOND Spirit Breaker!!

 

*One!*

.

 

.

 

.

*Two!*

 

.

 

.

 

.

*Three!!*

 

*** Bell rings, as the crowd erupts. Tod's victorious theme song blasts from the speaker, as Funyon bellows out the announcement. ***

 

Funyon: The winner of this match…TOD - DEEEE - KIIINNNN - DEEEESSSS!!!

 

*** Tod is on his back, catching his much earned breath as Mark Hebner raises his hand in victory. ***

 

Axis: A much deserved win for Tod deKindes here tonight!!

 

Edwin: He's finally gotten that elusive pinfall on TNT!!

 

…

 

*** The shot returns to present time, where we see backstage that Ben Hardy is standing with Tod deKindes, shades resting up on his forehead as is his usual habit. ***

 

Ben: All right, Tod deKindes, we just saw last week where you finally managed to defeat Taylor Nicholas Thompson. Congratulations on that. But for now tonight, you once again embark on a quest for SJL gold, as you face Insane Luchadore and Poisyn in a triple threat match to determine the number one contender for the European title. But what *I* wanna know is what you were doing sitting in the crowd earlie- …

 

*** The young german doesn't even let Mr. Hardy finish his question as he shoots a silent but deadly look towards him. ***

 

Ben: …a-as we were hearing from Sydney Sky, the new World champion. You seemed, uh, interested in the proceedings.

 

*** Ben moves his mic towards Tod for an answer, but he doesn't receive one. Tod gazes at the interviewer with eyes of steel. Flustered, Ben tries to come up with another question but Tod doesn't give him that pleasure, as he slides his shades back down to eye level, and chooses to walk away… ***

 

Ben: Um, well, ok…Let's send it back to ringside, then.

 

…

 

King: Why in the HELL is that ugly little man still working here?

 

Axis: He's just doing his job, King.

 

Edwin: He's got seven kids to feed, no?

 

King: What?!

 

Edwin: That's right.

 

King: No way.

 

Edwin: It's true, seven kids.

 

King: I find it IMPOSSIBLE to believe that Ben Hardy's genitalia was functionnal enough to produce seven little crapping machines.

 

Axis: You don't know the half of it, buddy. All right now, it's time for our Triple Threat Match to determine the Number One Contender for Frost's SJL European championship. One on side we will have, former TV champ and the former Matt Myers; Poisyn. On another side, a man who came VERY close to winning the World title last Wednesday, Andrew Rickmen, better known as Insane Luchadore. And to top things off, a young man who finally earned himself a victory over Taylor Nicholas Thompson last week; former European champ Tod deKindes, who surely must be looking to claim that gold for a second time.

 

King: Yeah, what WAS Tod doing sitting in the crowd earlier tonight?

 

Edwin: Enjoying the show, I guess?

 

King: Doesn't he have a monitor in his dressing room?

 

Edwin: Not where HE's dressing. Bloody thing's darker than my attic.

 

Axis: We'll have to investigate further into that, but for now let's take you to the ring!

 

…

 

*** Funyon, wearing his direct ripoff of Howard Finkel's penguin suit, brings the mic to his lips. ***

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest set for two falls is to determine the Number One Contender for the SJL Euroo - pean title, which is currently held by Frost! … This contest is a triple threat elimination match, in which elimination occurs through either pinfall or submission …

 

*** He pauses, flipping his note card over. ***

 

Funyon: Introducing the participants …

 

*** Hoobastank's "Crawling In The Dark" warms up on the speakers. ***

 

Funyon: First, accompanied by Brianna Flynn, from New Haven, Connecticut. Weighing in at 229 lbs, he is the former Matt Myers but now chooses to be known as … Poooooooi - syyyynnnn!!!

 

*** As smoke pours out from under the stage, accompanied by a limey green strobe light, Poisyn walks out with his girl Brianna in tow. Poisyn stops to yell at a few heckling fans, while Brianna shuts them up with the "Oh no you di'nt!" hand sign. Poisyn rolls under the bottom rope, still throwing looks at the booing crowd. He removes his SJL t shirt and bandana, then throws them into the crowd for the hell of it. He paces around the ring, awaiting his opposition, as the band with the weird name slowly fades away. ***

 

Funyon: Participant number two …

 

*** Making way for the heavy tunes of Mudvayne's "Dig", as the lights go out and then flicker back on, though leaving the arena in a state of dimness. ***

 

Funyon: From Easton, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 195 lbs … He is the True Plague…Insane - Luuuuuuuchadoooooooorrrrrre !!

 

*** As he's posing on top of the ramp, IL slowly turns around and calmly makes his way down the ramp, with his usual accompanying red and black pyro. He rolls into the ring, throwing regular "I got ya booing right HERE" type of smirks. He stretches in the ropes and then retreats to his own corner. ***

 

Funyon: And finally, participant number three…

 

*** The heavy thrashing sounds of Slipknot's "I Am Hated" inundates the arena. ***

 

Funyon: From Muenchen, Germany, now residing in Toronto, Ontario, Canada; weighing in at 227 lbs … Tod - deeeeee - Kin - deeeeessss!!

 

*** Since the fans can't really chant along to Corey Taylor's blissful lyrics (too much screaming), they simply opt to cheer for their german hero; as the entrance way fills with smoke, along with rave like strobelight accompaniement. Tod stops under the Smarktron, looking at everybody through his silver framed shades; even spotting the location where he was earlier seated, as well as the guy who offered him a hot dog. He walks down the ramp with a purpose, almost obeying his theme song's violent beat. He slides in under the bottom rope and throws two quick looks at his opponents and then climbs up to the second rope, letting out a mighty roar to the fans. He steps down and proceeds with his usual pre match undressing routine. ***

 

Axis: Tod deKindes, fresh off defeating TNT last week, is now on a quest for European gold, a title some say he was robbed.

 

King: Big goddamn deal, Ax! You know and I know for a fact that TNT DESTROYED Tod deKindes for that European title!

 

Edwin: Um, King, it was Danny Williams who took the title from Tod.

 

King: But who was standing over a bloody, battered, beaten and DEFEATED Tod? Hmmm?

 

Edwin: Well, TNT was.

 

King: Thank you, my point is made!!

 

Axis: All three men seem quite ready here, so here we go!!

 

*** Bell rings. All three men are studying each other, trying to psyche one another out. Poisyn goes for the early advantage and tries to punk out Tod with a clothesline, only Tod ducks and immediately connects with a spear on IL! He hammers him with quick rapid fire right hands to the side of the head, and then he quickly bounces up and does the same to Poisyn. Alternating right hands to both IL and Poisyn sends both men down, as Tod gets the quick upper hand on them. Irish whip exchange between Tod and IL, who ducks a few oncoming attacks only to end up colliding with the wandering Poisyn. IL gets clotheslined over the top rope and outside of the ring, whereas Poisyn remains. Right hands are exchanged. Irish whip by Tod. He plants a boot in Poisyn's gut and bounces off another set of ropes, planting his opponent down with a swinging neckbreaker. As Poisyn staggers to get to his feet, another Irish whip exchange occurs, and this time it's Tod running the ropes. He ducks a clothesline and a back elbow from Poisyn and puts the brakes on in order to pop IL in the mouth as he was climbing back up on the apron and attempting to climb back in the ring. ***

 

Axis: Tod is starting off hot tonight!

 

*** Tod Irish whips Poisyn to a corner and crouches in position ready to follow up with his usual spear in the corner; but then IL suddenly comes up from behind and trips Tod down, pulling him by the hair and sending him down hard to the mat. ***

 

King: Spoke too soon, didn't ya, Axis!

 

*** IL drops a quick elbow on him, as Poisyn joins in on the beating. Both men are now putting the boots to the german grappler. After dropping a few succession elbows, IL falls on top of Tod for the cover… ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*** … but Poisyn drops an elbow on HIM, breaking up the pinfall attempt. Upset at this development, IL confronts him and now the slugfest is on. Right hands are exchanged between the two. IL gets the better of that transaction, sending Poisyn running to the ropes. IL goes for a basic back body drop, but Poisyn leap frogs over that and comes back with a shoulder block that sends IL down. Poisyn runs the ropes, as he and IL proceed to do the timeless "roll over / hop across / hiptoss attempt" sequence. Poisyn blocks the hiptoss, however and plants his fist in IL's gut. He places his leg over IL's head and does a backwards flip, landing on his feet, and connects with a clothesline … nope, wait, IL ducks and grabs Poisyn in a rear waist lock. Standing switch allows Poisyn to take control. He starts to go for a german suplex, but when he sees a rapidly rising Tod deKindes he shoves IL towards him …Tod, seeing Luchadore arriving at him full speed, extends his leg sideways, connecting with a standing sidekick, sounding off a resounding *SMACK!*. Poisyn quickly falls on top for the cover … ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*** … but Tod intercepts him with an elbow drop to the back of the head. He throws a couple of right hands to Poisyn and then follows it up with an Irish whip to the ropes. Poisyn ducks a back elbow and then a clothesline. He bounces off the ropes in attempt of his own clothesline, but Tod ducks and locks on his own rear waist lock. Standing switch once again by Poisyn, taking control. Tod tries his best to counter out of the hold using back elbows and trying to reach between his legs, but Poisyn holds on tight. He goes to once again attempt a german suplex, but Tod is one step ahead and back flips behind him, landing on his feet! ***

 

Edwin: No luck yet on that German suplex yet for Poisyn.

 

*** Tod locks Poisyn's arm in a full nelson and sends him flying backwards with a Dragon suplex, holding on into a pin attempt. ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*** IL interrupts the proceedings with a double axhandle to Tod's stomach, breaking up the cover. He neutralizes Tod with a DDT, then goes back to work on Poisyn; whom he exchanges a flurry of right hands with. IL gets sent to the ropes via Irish whip by Poisyn. He ducks a karate chop, and then a huge roundhouse kick that would've been likely to tear his head off. On the third bounce off the ropes, he catches IL in a fireman's carry position, almost for a Death Valley Driver. ***

 

Axis: He's going for The Crawling!!

 

Edwin: No, wait …

 

*** IL slips out, locks on a full nelson and times his steps, running towards the nearest turnbuckle. ***

 

Axis: He's going for The Brink Of Insanity!!

 

Edwin: No, wait …

 

*** Poisyn somehow frees himself and arm drags IL off the ropes and onto the mat! Tod rises up from out of nowhere, grabbing IL's arm and prepping him for the pumphandle slam position. ***

 

Axis: He's going for the Spirit Breaker!

 

Edwin: Um, nope …

 

*** As Tod scoops up IL on his shoulder, Poisyn comes from behind and yanks him back down to safety. Tod turns around, blocks a right from Poisyn, kick to the gut, he grabs a front face lock and throws his arm over his head. ***

 

Axis: And now he's going for the Cerebral Driver!!

 

Edwin: Not quite …

 

*** As Tod spins Poisyn around in the modified reverse neckbreaker position, IL breaks up THAT maneuver with a solid roundhouse kick to the gut, doubling Tod over. Both IL and Poisyn start to work over Tod. Double Irish whip to the ropes. Tod ducks a clothesline and comes off the second bounce with a sunset flip attempt on IL. He tries the good old fashionned counter to it, in the manner of a BUTT drop; but Tod moves, allowing IL to sit down the hard way. Tod capitalizes on that and sends a solid dropkick to the back of IL's head. Poisyn catches the unsuspecting  Tod with a stiff superkick to the jaw, as Tod crumples to the mat in a flash. Poisyn once again falls on top for the attempted cover. ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Th…--

 

*** Kick out by Tod. Poisyn maintains the offense on him with clubbing blows to the back and martial arts chops to the throat. He locks his left hand with Tod's right hand, almost as if going for a test of strength, but instead he runs to a corner and pedals up the turnbuckle pads, all the way up to the top rope. He walks along that top strand, mentally preparing himself for a swinging hurracanrana. ***

 

Axis: Impressive agility shown here by the former Matt Myers!

 

King: It's POISYN, damn you!! POISYN!!

 

*** Edwin briefly goes into a whistling rendition of 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn', but after a few seconds of dead silence (the assumption being that his two colleagues are staring at him), he stops. ***

 

Edwin: What agility indeed!!

 

*** Poisyn stops at the middle of the top rope, but Tod suddenly dropkicks the rope, throwing him off balance! He gets knocked off the ropes, giving himself a Stun Gun in the process and then he crumples to the floor in a heap. IL charges at Tod, but Tod side steps him and turns it into an Irish whip exchange. IL ducks a clothesline, but on his second bounce off the ropes he twists his body sideways, connecting with a brutal spinning heel kick that sends Tod staggering next to the ropes! IL boosts himself off the ropes once again, hoping to clothesline the hapless german grappler out of the ring; but Tod is the quicker of the two and backdrops his unsuspecting opponent out of the ring! Tod paces around the ring, collecting himself and getting his strategy in order. ***

 

Axis: Tod is taking control of this match, both of his opponents are out on the floor!

 

Edwin: If they get counted out, Tod could win!!

 

*** As Matt Kivell stars making good use of his ten count, Tod is up against the far ropes, contemplating what move to do next. He jogs to the opposite ropes, and finally runs, picking up speed along the way; as both IL and Poisyn are slowly getting to their feet. In an amazing display of athleticism, Tod comes off the ropes with an impressive cartwheel into a *corkscrew back flip* onto both men on the outside! The crowd cheers, impressed at that little feat of high flying. ***

 

Axis: He barely grazed the top rope on that one!

 

Edwin: This is what the purists call a Space Flying Tiger Drop, a move popularized by the Great Sasuke in the great nation of Japan! Impressive move by Tod deKindes!

 

King: … Show off.

 

*** All three men spend a few seconds on the floor, until they finally start to get up when Kivell reaches the count of five. ***

 

King: Hey, what if they're ALL counted out? Would your boy Tod win THEN, hmmmm?

 

Edwin: Well, no, of course not.

 

*** As Edwin fails to grasp the sarcastic nature of his comment, King releases a sigh of desperation as the action continues. Insane Luchadore rolls into the ring, while Tod and Poisyn exchange some rights at ringside. Tod gains the upper hand and goes to whip Poisyn into the steel ring steps, only it's reversed; as Tod ends up tasting the steel. Poisyn switches his crosshairs over to IL, who's standing in the ring, posing to the crowd. Poisyn climbs to the ring apron and proceeds to NAIL Luchadore with a nasty springboard savate kick to the back of the head, that sends IL staggering chest first into a corner. Poisyn quickly grabs IL from behind in a full nelson and drives him down hard with a modified russian legsweep. ***

 

Axis: The Alternative Slam by Poisyn! The cover!!

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Thre…--

 

***At the last second, Tod -from the outside- yanks on Matt Kivell's leg, breaking up the count. ***

 

King: AGAIN with the breaking of the pinfalls!! Guys, this is ELIMINATION rules, you nitwits!! Just let the guy pin the other and THEN kick the first guy's ass!! Good Lord…

 

Axis: Well, you can't blame them for that, they're used to a certain style of wrestling.

 

*** As Tod rolls himself to the apron, Poisyn grabs IL in a 3/4 face lock, prepping him for his move known as The Memory … but IL shoves him off and into the ropes. IL goes for a big superkick, but Poisyn rolls under … and lifts IL up in a fireman's carry position. ***

 

Axis: NOW, could he be going for The Crawling?

 

Edwin: Again, no …

 

*** IL once again wiggles out of the potentially dangerous move attempt, pushing Poisyn to the ropes. Back body drop attempt is countered with a sunset flip attempt by Poisyn … only Tod arrives, plants a knee in Luchadore's gut, sets him up for the Cerebral Driver, this time successfully completing the move. ***

 

Axis: There's the Cerebral Driver by Tod deKindes! The cover!

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Thr…--

 

*** Poisyn drops an elbow on Tod and shoves him off. He wants the pin on IL for himself. ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Three!!*

 

*** A single ring of the bell signals an elimination, which is promptly announced to the crowd. ***

 

Funyon: The Insane Luchadore, has been eee - liminated!!

 

*** As the dazed Luchadore rolls to his feet at ringside, he pounds the apron in frustration as he's beckoned to retreat to his dressing room. Meanwhile, it's down to Tod and Poisyn … well, mostly Poisyn throwing kicks at Tod's leg, who can barely defend himself due to the kicks' fierceness. ***

 

King: Just look at those kicks. Tod isn't used to fighting someone with a black belt in ass kicking!

 

*** With a now aching thigh, Tod catches one of Poisyn's kicks and now has a quick two seconds to contemplate what to do next … Oops, too late, Poisyn knocks him down with an enziguiri to the back of the head. Tod crumples to his knees, as Brianna Flynn cheers on her man at ringside. As a quick wear down attack, Poisyn hammers Tod in the back with rapid but strong forearms shots to the upper back. Tod rolls onto his back, allowing Poisyn to come off the ropes and nail him with a sharp looking snap legdrop. Cover. ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Th…--

 

*** Tod gets the shoulder up. Poisyn contests that count for a second but that leads him nowhere, so he hooks a headlock on his opponent. Tod is on one knee, trying to muscle his way out of it, but Poisyn is holding on tight. Tod tries everything to counter the trapping hold, but Poisyn shifts his weight sideways, taking down Tod to the mat, still trapped in the headlock. Tod moves his legs around Poisyn's head to counter, gaining a brief advantage. Poisyn retakes that advantage however, as he rolls out of the hold and onto his feet; and then he FLOORS Tod with a solid clothesline. ***

 

Poisyn: Get yer ass up!!!

 

*** …Which Tod slowly does, allowing Poisyn to scoop him up on his shoulder and slam him down hard to the mat with a standing powerslam. ***

 

Poisyn: Stay the f*** down!!!

 

*** Poisyn drops a leg and holds it there, into a cover. ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Thr…--

 

*** Tod moves his shoulder up at two and a half. Poisyn grabs him by the hair and scoops him on his shoulder for a second time. This time, he makes with an attempt at a running variation of the powerslam, no doubt as a nod to the recently departed David Smith (RIP), with intent on nearly engraving Tod into the mat; but the german grappler slides out from behind and shoves his opponent hard and chest first into a corner. He cradles him from behind. ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Thr…--

 

*** Poisyn squirms out of the pin attempt, neutralizes Tod with a thumb to the eye, followed by another solid yet nasty clothesline. Poisyn walks around for a second or two in order to catch his lost breath and then he picks up Tod by the hair, no doubt to deliver some more trash talk and punishment. Shoved into the nearest corner, there's nothing Tod can do for now as he's showered with repeated kicks to the midsection by the angry New Haven native; followed by a lengthy choke hold. Upon Matt Kivell's warnings, Poisyn releases the choke and sends Tod ramming hard into the opposite corner via an Irish whip. Cross corner charge is attempted by Poisyn … and it hits, as he connects with a solid corner clothesline that sends Tod collapsing to the mat. ***

 

Edwin: He got ALL of that clothesline on Tod.

 

King: There's no room to fall back on those types of moves in the corner, therefore creating MORE impact on the victim.

 

Poisyn: That hurt, Tod??!

 

*** Poisyn punctuates the heavy trash talk with occasional kicks to the ribs, with the occasional forearm shot to the back thrown in. He picks up the heavily dazed Tod by the hair and whips him to the ropes … and connects with a HUGE spinebuster, shades of the great Arn Anderson. Cover is attempted. ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Thre…--

 

*** Kick out at the last second by Tod. Poisyn wastes no time, dragging Tod to his feet once again and locking on a full nelson … only to spin him around and PLANT him down with his version of the Diamond Cutter. ***

 

Axis: There's The Memory on Tod deKindes!! Is it enough?!!

 

*** Instead of going for another cover, Poisyn walks over to a corner and begins a slow climb of the turnbuckles. He flips off a fat boy in the front row and dives off, gaining a lot of hang time and landing with a SOLID frog splash. ***

 

King: It's not enough yet, because Tod deKindes just tasted a little bit of POISYN DROP!! Cover him, Matt!!

 

*** Sure enough, that's exactly what he does … ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Thre…--

 

Axis: Noo!! Not just yet, Tod gets his left shoulder up in the nick of time!!

 

Edwin: Great resiliency by the former Euro champ!

 

King: Come on, ref!!

 

*** Poisyn disputes the speed of that two count, but Kivell stands his ground, holding up the two fingers signifying the near fall. He brushes off the referee as a mere annoyance for now, and concentrates his game plan on Tod for now. Nasty kick to the head ensures that he stays down, as runs the ropes and flies off with his trademark quebrada, aptly named Withered. He has the choice to make a cover, but he doesn't cash in on that just yet, as he decides to rise Tod to his feet once again. ***

 

Poisyn: I ain't done with this piece'a sh** yet!!

 

King: He's kicking Tod's ass and telling him about it at the same time … I'm so proud of this kid, I could cry.

 

*** Poisyn locks a full nelson on the prone Tod and DRIVES him down with authority with his Alternative Slam russian legsweep. Seeing that Tod is safely lying down on the mat and won't get up for a good number of seconds, he heads to a corner once again. ***

 

Poisyn: Ok, NOW he's done!!

 

Axis: Poisyn, formerly Matt Myers, going once again up top. Could he be going for his patented Venom Drop?

 

*** Poisyn must be hearing the announcers because that's the very move he has in mind. He hops up to the top turnbuckle and flies off in a splash manner, and then tucks in in a forward roll at the last second … only his back hits nothing but canvas. ***

 

Axis: Nobody home on the Venom Drop!!

 

Edwin: No water in THAT pool!

 

*** Both men are down. Matt Kivell approaches to center ring and puts on his mandatory ten count. ***

 

Edwin: If Tod deKindes wants to win this matchup, this is where he needs to build some sort of counter attack!

 

King: But if Poisyn wants to win this matchup, he needs to get up faster than Tod and POUND on him like Ike on Tina after a couple of Jack Daniels!!

 

*** Both men start to move around the seven count … Tod is now up at eight, Poisyn is a little slower to get up due to his missed Venom Drop. Tod starts to build his comeback with right hands to the head. Poisyn staggers into a corner, still a little woozy. Cross corner Irish whip, Poisyn hits the turnbuckle hard. Tod follows it up with his unforgiving corner spear and then sends Poisyn flying overhead with a HUGE double underhook overhead belly to belly suplex. That doesn't stop Poisyn however, as he gets back to his feet within seconds … only to walk into a scoop up into a fireman's carry by Tod, and then DOWN into a Death Valley Driver. Tod screams a rallying roar to the crowd and climbs up to the top turnbuckle. He dives off and connects with a beautiful swanton bomb! He leans backwards and hooks a leg … ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Thre…--

 

Axis: So close!!

 

*** Maintaining his newfound resurgence, Tod hooks Poisyn in a front facelock and throws the other arm over his head. Step one, snap suplex … ***

 

Edwin: There's one!

 

*** He lifts Poisyn back up, still in the facelock, and then drives him back down with a front suplex. ***

 

Axis: There's two!

 

*** One more time, Poisyn is lifted up … only to be dropped stomach first onto the ropes, thus completing the Sara Sequence. ***

 

King: I'm not saying it, that move is RIDICULOUS!

 

*** Under the encouragement of the crowd, Tod moves to an adjacent corner and vaults up to the top rope, then dropping back down with a springboard legdrop across the back of Poisyn's head. As Tod screams to the crowd for more approval, Poisyn tries to seek refuge in a corner. Tod comes up from behind and grabs him in a rear waist lock, only Poisyn's trick knee acts up, as it meets with Tod's unmentionnables, thus freeing him of the waist lock. Scissor kick to the back of the head knocks Tod down. Poisyn waves his hands in the air, signaling that he's ready to put this one away. He picks up Tod in yet another front facelock and grabs on tightly to his belt (Tod's wearing cargo jeans after all) and tries to lift him up in an implant DDT, though it seems that Tod's reluctant … **

 

Axis: He's going for that Buzzkiller DDT…

 

Edwin: But that's not one of his signature moves!

 

King: What is he doing?!

 

*** Tod suddenly twists out of the hold with a modified arm wringer, knees Poisyn in the gut, runs his arm through his legs, scoops him up on his shoulder and DRIVES him down head first into the mat. ***

 

Axis: Spirit Breaker!! This could be it!!

 

*** Tod hooks both legs as Matt Kivell is quickly in position. ***

 

*One!*

 

*Two!*

 

*Three!!*

 

*** Bell rings, as the crowd erupts into cheers. ***

 

Edwin: He's got him!!

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, and thus the NEW Number One contender for the European title … Tod - deeeee - Kinnnnn - deeesssssss!!

 

*** The violent beats of Slipknot's "I Am Hated" blasts out in victory as Matt Kivell raises his hand. Tod hops up to the second turnbuckle, taking the time to exchange mighty roars with the Todheads in the crowd. ***

 

Axis: A big victory for Tod deKindes here tonight!

 

Edwin: Frost is going to have a lot on his hands pretty soon!!

 

*** While Kivell tends to the defeated Poisyn, Tod exits the ring and walks up the ramp in a determined fashion; taking the time to throw one last look to the crowd before disappearing behind the curtains… ***

 

Axis: We'll be right back!!

[Guest crusen86]

The SJL Crimson theme music plays loudly in background but it is only a mere insignificants to the electrifying up roar of the twenty thousand drunken fans who have jam packed the Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena, in Gladville, Tennessee! When we say jam packed we really mean it the actually seating capacity of the arena is a little over fifteen thousand people. With half of the people laying passed out on the cold hard concrete a new number one contender has just been crowned and the remaining spectators that are left on their feet are probably so piss drunk that they don’t even know what is going on. The camera cuts to the announce table, but mainly focuses in on Axis, who is probably the smartest out of the three commentators here this evening.

 

“Hello and welcome back it’s great to be back to this extraordinary edition of SJL Crimson!” screams Axis so that the fans at home may just be able to make out a word that he is saying, “We have already seen some exceptional action here tonight, and we have only had the privilege of seeing the first three matches of the night!”

 

Panning over to Axis’s right sits Edwin and King who begin to slap each other like two bloody idiots. Finally King snatches the papers, which had been in the tightly clenched hands of the Mac Daddy. King raises his hand and looks like he is going to strike the brilliant Edwin, Edwin smiles that moron like smile and it seems to melt King’s heart, SLAP!!! Wrong again, that grinning moron just brought that slap upon himself.

 

"And now back to you Axis!" King says cheerfully.

 

“Well with our next match, it wasn’t just thrown together off of the top of our beloved Commissioner’s head, this match actually has some history behind it! We would bring back some of the moments of that epic six man elimination match-up but when IGN gave us the shaft we lost all our footage. But what I can tell you is that neither Josh Tupper nor Mike Van Siclen are fond of the other.  A bitter rivalry that came to a head in a six-man flaming table match, a match, which had more, then just your personal safety on the line. It also had the Television Title that at that time had been strapped tightly around the waist of the Natural Born Killer."

 

"I remember that night it had my humans the exact way I like them, well done!" Edwin says even more cheerfully than King.

 

"A human barbeque that is like a show with out me the Suicide King, unimaginable!" says King, as the exchange between he and Edwin becomes a cheerfulness contest.

 

“Well Mr. Tupper didn’t take to kindly when Siclen managed to pull off what many thought was an unthinkable upset. When MVS managed to emerge from the match battered and beaten, but as the Television Champion, that become the night that many people began earning their respect for the newly crowned champion!” Axis says, obviously not knowing about MVS' later upset of Erek Taylor, Ced Ordonez, and Shawn Brody.

 

"Most people declared that very night the night that Mike Van Siclen was born!" King says with striking genius.

 

"I personally think Siclen was born on that dark and stormy night twenty-three years ago, oh what a night it was." Edwin says, because he attended the party afterwards.

 

Ding…Ding…Ding…

 

"This match is scheduled for one fall and will be fought under sanctioned SJL Rules, with the DQ and Count Out Rules both applying," says our ever-cheerful ring announcer, Funyon.

 

"Light me up…"

 

The pumping beats of "Light Me Up" by Cassanova 419 begin to echo throughout the arena as the lights go down!  The crowd roars in expectation of the SJL superstar about to walk down the ramp…

 

"Come on, come on, come on, LIGHT THAT FUCKER UP!"

 

BOOM!

 

A shower of white pyro goes off atop the entrance ramp as it illuminates a figure atop the entrance ramp, arms outstretched in a "come-and-get-me" gesture.  A blue spotlight shines upon him as he struts down the ramp, blonde hair glistening as he slides into the ring.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, now entering the ring, hailing from Harrison, Illinois, weighing in at two-hundred thirty-seven pounds, the Amazin' one, MIIIIIIKKE VA-AN SIIIIIIIIIIIC-LEEEEEEEN!" screams Funyon as the crowd explodes in cheers as MVS poses on a turnbuckle, then hopping backwards, prepping for his match.

 

“Back due to popular demand, is Mike Van Siclen,” roars Axis as he cracks a smile.

 

"It’s hard to believe that someone who was so hated just a few months ago can get an ovation like this from these fans!" screams Edwin, knowing what those reactions feel like.

 

"It’s hard to believe they let idiots like you on television. I mean even the idiots here inside of the Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena, right here in Gladville, Tennessee, know how to make people love you and how to make people hate you." King says, proving that he hates both the player and the game.

 

"Remember Gladville, Tennessee voted number two on the top five most hated places in the United States of America!" says Edwin, proving amazing skills of memory powers.

 

The lights in the arena slowly dim down to a faint glow as all the lights focus in on the Smarkstron as the sound of a loud siren burst through the darkness as suddenly a spinning red siren appears on the Smarkstron as The words Natural Born Killer imprint themselves behind the sirens as suddenly jail cell bars slam down over the words and the screen goes black as the sound of Twiztids, Broken Wingz cuts through the boos, as the lesser like of the two men makes his way to ringside. Quickly the arena lights up as five quick blasts of pyro explode from the each side of the stage. As the last blast of pyro echoes through the arena the shape of "NBK" emerges from behind the dark curtain.

 

“Now making his way to the ring he weighs in at two hundred and ninety-nine pounds and he hails from Toronto ONTARIO, CANADA! HE IS THE “NATURAL BORN KILLAAA” JOSH TUPPAAAAAAA!!!!!!” Funyon screams as "NBK" slowly walks down the ramp and slides underneath the bottom rope, as MVS sees his chance to get an early jump in this match as he drives an axe handle smash into the back of Tupper’s head and neck.

 

"VAN SIC-LEN!! VAN SIC-LEN!! VAN SIC-LEN!!" chant the excited fans

 

"These fans are getting behind Van Siclen early what kind of advantage will this play out in the match?" King questions.

 

"Well seeing as Tupper is used to getting booed all around the world, I’m sure it shouldn’t bother him at all!!" Edwin says with a smile.

 

“As much as you two can argue with each other about who is better, you both have to admit that, that was a cheap shot by Van Siclen!” Well as you can guess Edwin and King both have too much pride, and they refuse to admit that what Axis may have said just may have some truth to it.

 

"ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! FOUR!!" chant the fans as four steady axe handles smashes to the back seem to have given Van Siclen the early advantage in this one. Van Siclen lifts Tupper up by the head and basically drags him to his feet before pushing Tupper back against the ropes. Mike grasps Tupper’s wrist and places a hand on Tupper’s chest as he pulls him off of the ropes and whips him across the ring, Van Siclen closely follows and as Tupper turns around off of the ropes SMASH!! Siclen drives a knee straight into the lower abdominal region of Tupper. Siclen quickly springs to the middle rope and twists in the air and nails a modified version of a Guillotine Leg Drop on the downed Tupper.

 

“I don’t think I have ever seen that done before!” cries Axis.

 

"MAD SKILLS!! MAD SKILLS!! MAD SKILLS!!" chant the fans, obviously loving Mike Van Siclen.

 

"If Tupper isn’t careful he is going to get himself beat early on in this one!" King observes.

"That ring rust didn’t seem to show in Tupper’s return match but here tonight he seems to be almost totally out of it!" Edwin yells with a smile.

 

Van Siclen immediately pulls Tupper to his feet hoping that he won’t be able to catch his wind, and Mike wraps his arm around Tupper’s head in a suplex position. Van Siclen begins to hoist Tupper who is an almost three hundred pounder off the ground but with little luck, the first time Van Siclen raises Tupper a good five inches but the second Mike only manages to force Tupper two inches off of the mat if he is lucky. Van Siclen seems to want to let go of the hold that he has over Tupper, but Tupper doesn’t want to let it go and as Mike tries to pull away Tupper uses all the strength he can muster up and he hoists Van Siclen high in the air and you can tell that MVS wasn’t expecting Tupper to recover so quickly by the look on his face, and the fact that he is frantically kicking his legs back and fourth seemingly trying to cause Tupper to fall off balance. The kicking and flailing like a moron seems to pay off for Van Siclen as Tupper loses his grip and Mike falls down to a vertical base in front of Tupper. Tupper lunges swinging a left hand but Van Siclen ducks underneath it, and slides underneath of Tupper wraps his arm around his neck and snaps it down over his shoulder in one smooth motion delivering a stiff neck breaker.

 

“What a neck breaker by Van Siclen, he just snapped Tupper’s neck across his own shoulder!!!” Axis cries out as Van Siclen jumps on top of Tupper for the first cover of the match.

 

ONE…

 

TWO…

 

T…Tupper uses the power in his large legs to power his way out of the submission.

 

"That was a close one!" Edwin says, showing proof that he wants Tupper to win.

 

"BORING!! I could put on a better match with a monkey!" King says, greatly insulting Van Siclen's skills.

 

"Even if that monkey had rabies?" Edwin questions King.

 

Van Siclen raises to one knee before using the top rope to pull himself to his feet before kicking Tupper twice in the shoulder. Mike looks down at Tupper with a look that basically says that Van Siclen knows he is the better man then Tupper and he is going to prove it here tonight. Van Siclen lifts Tupper up to his feet and twists Tupper’s arm around, putting a lot of torque on the back of the neck and shoulders of Tupper. Once again Mike twists the arm raising the pressure even more, Mike raises his arm and snaps his elbow down into Tupper’s shoulder. The blow drops Tupper to his knees, but Van Siclen tugs on the shoulder and then pulls Tupper up and drives another elbow straight into the shoulder, this time Tupper falls to the mat and Mike drives a knee into the shoulder.

 

“Van Siclen is really working on that shoulder! He not only wants to beat Tupper he wants to hurt him!”

 

Van Siclen grasps Tupper’s arm and lifts it up, he quickly locks in an arm bar but with a great ring presence Tupper reaches his arm to the left and grasps bottom rope, as the ref begins to register the mandatory five count.

 

One… Van Siclen just tightens the hold not having a care for what the ref is saying.

 

Two…

 

Three…

 

Four…With one quick pull, the expression on Tupper’s face changes from pain to bitter agony as Van Siclen releases the hold but not before doing the damage that he inflected on the left shoulder of Tupper.

 

"Van Siclen has already tested the count of the referee once here tonight I’m not sure if the referee is going to stand for this much longer." Edwin says with surprisingly good knowledge of referees.

 

"This is the JL the wrestlers do whatever they want!" King says, greatly overestimating the collective skill of the SJL.

 

“Tupper hasn’t been able to mount any offense here tonight, and I don’t know how much longer this match will last if the momentum doesn’t change any time soon!” Axis yells out.

 

Van Siclen jumps to his feet and he backs off into the corner seemingly giving Tupper a chance, but as Tupper begins to rise to all fours you can tell that Mike is about to pounce, as he begins to stalk Tupper like an animal stalks his prey. Finally as Tupper uses all three of the turnbuckles to finally pull himself to his feet, from behind charges Van Siclen who lowers his shoulder charging at Tupper who dodges to the left and Mike crashes straight into the ring post, shoulder first.  Clenching his shoulder Van Siclen turns around and runs straight into a big boot from Tupper who also falls to the mat, forcing the ref to start the ten count.

 

One…

 

Two…

 

Three… Tupper slowly begins to stir as Van Siclen still clenches his shoulder, as he is in a severe amount of pain.

 

Four…

 

Five… Tupper manages to get himself up to one knee stopping the count, as slowly MVS looks up at the lights of the arena not knowing that Tupper has made it to his feet.

 

"Both men seem to be favoring a shoulder!" King cries out.

 

“This could really change the flow of this match, the winner of this one will depend on who can fight through the pain better then the other!” Axis calls out like a color commentator.

 

Mike and Tupper slowly stand up, Josh getting to his feet before Mike.  Josh tests out his right shoulder, the one that he usually delivers his finishing move (the Hit and Run Gore) with as Van Siclen starts to get up near the ropes.

 

"What's Van Siclen doing!" King shouts.  "He should know that Tupper's gonna give him the Hit and Run!"

 

"I think Mike's too out in the head to realize that!" Edwin shouts back smartly.

 

"Mike and Van Siclen both slowly getting up!" Axis yells.

 

"I think you're a bit late," Edwin shoots back.

 

Van Siclen stands up fully, looking down and breathing heavy when suddenly BANG!  He gets run into full-force by Mr. Tupper's left shoulder, and as he falls against the ropes the top one breaks!  Van Siclen and Tupper go hurtling to the outside, luckily landing on their backs, as the ref begins the mandatory ten-count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

"I hope none of them are too (THREE! hurt!" Axis yells.

 

"That was (FOUR! insane!" Edwin yells.

 

"I loved it (FIVE!" cries King.

 

Van Siclen slowly gets up as the ref's count hits six, driving a fierce knee into Tupper's back.  The ref hits seven as Tupper angrily gets to his feet and shoves Van Siclen into the ringpost!  The count hits eight as Tupper ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! Punches into Van Siclen's gut!  The Killer backs off as the count hits nine and Van Siclen falls forward!  Van Siclen gets up furiously and leaps at Tupper with a hard Spear as the count hits ten!

 

Ding, ding ding!

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, due to a double count-out, the match between NBK Josh Tupper and Mike Van Siclen has been ruled a NO CONTEST!!!"

 

"BOO!"

 

The crowd erupts in boos as Tupper and Van Siclen both look at the ref, disbelief at the double count-out.  Angrily, Tupper looks at Van Siclen and WHAM!  Hit And Run!!!

 

"Another Hit and Run onto Mike Van Siclen!" cries Axis.

 

"NOOOOO!  Not a No Contest!" screams King.

 

"Deal, King.  Rules are rules here in the JL," a witty Edwin replies.

 

Tupper angrily throws the ring apron up and takes out a steel chair!  He opens it, inserting Van Siclen's leg and closing it tight before reaching under the apron again and pulling out… a sledgehammer!  The crowd boos even harder as Tupper lifts the sledge!

 

"No, Josh, don't do it!" pleads Axis.

 

"Hehehehahaha!  Sadism rules!" cries out King.

 

"Ayeegeth blah," says a Greg the Bunny-loving Macphisto.

 

Tupper looks ready to bring down the sledge, but his eyes seem to soften, his heart seems to grow to three sizes too big… he drops the sledge!  The crowd roars as he turns around and begins to walk up the ramp.

 

"Well, that was a double count-out, but up next we --- OH MY GOD!" Axis screams.

 

Well, it appears Van Siclen has removed the chair and picked up the sledgehammer, and he charges Josh!  Tupper senses someone behind him and turns around… WHAM!  Shot to the head with the sledge!  WHAM!  WHAM!  Two body blows!  A ref comes up behind Van Siclen… who spins around and implants the hammer in his gut!  More refs come down and they all meet the same fate… a sledgehammer to the gut by Van Siclen!

 

"VAN SICLEN HAS CLEANED HOUSE!" Axis shouts out.

 

"Say it ain't so, Mike!" Edwin pleads.

 

"Mike Van Siclen has come to the dark side!" King crows.

 

No-name jobbers start to come out, six of them, and all six are smashed with a blow from Van Siclen!  Finally, nobody else comes out to challenge him, and he smiles, laughing as he drops the sledgehammer across Tupper's fallen body, saying "Thank you" and blowing kisses, laughing sadistically as the SJL Crimson pulls a…

 

…fader…

[Guest crusen86]

DURING THE COMMERCIAL BREAK...

 

The camera fades in from commercial on the loading dock of the Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena, given a bright glow as it is bathed in halogen light. Standing near one of the loading bays… is SWF deputy commissioner and part-time JL announcer, the Suicide King! He has obviously finished a cell phone conversation, and is currently giving his Nokia a solid whack.

 

King(grumbling): “Stupid cell phone plan… ‘Anywhere in the US’ MY ASS.”

 

King mutters a curse and glares down on his phone with contempt.

 

King: “That bastard Wilson even had the nerve to call me collect!”

 

He grumbles again…before scratching his chin beard thoughtfully.

 

King: “Of course… I did reverse the charges. Heh, heh…”

 

Chuckling in spite of himself, King pockets the cell phone, heading down the dock and back toward the floor of the stadium. He is almost to the hallway leading back, but is stopped by a shout of…

 

“KING!!”

 

King stops in his tracks, the voice easily recognizable. Almost afraid of what he knows he’s going to find, but turning anyway, he comes face to face with… Z! Arm outstretched, the Zedman shambles the rest of his way over to the Suicide King, panting heavily. He still has the briefcase he’s been dragging around all night, handcuffed to his wrist for whatever reason. He stops just short, hunched over to try and catch his breath…

 

Z(pant,pant): “K… King! I--[huff] I finally foun…[pant, wheeze] found you…”

 

King(sighs): “What do *you* want, Z?”

 

Z takes one final big puff, before rising up to face King.

 

Z: “Whew… I was looking for you all night!”

 

King: “Un-huh…”

 

Z: “Anyway, you know that match I’ve got tonight, right?”

 

King stares blankly… before it begins to dawn on him where this is headed.

 

King: “No… you can’t be--”

 

Z(leaning in): “You know I need a tag partner, right?”

 

King: “…no…”

 

Z: “So I was thinking… who… better… than YOU?”

 

King looks dumbfounded at Z’s audacity.

 

King: “NO! Tell me, how do you breathe? Does you brain run on auto-pilot?”

 

Z: “Huh? What do you--”

 

King: “Has EVERY neural pathway in that peanut sized brain of yours seized up, or are you naturally this stupid!?”

 

Z: “But--”

 

King: “I’m RETIRED, you nitwit. And you know what? Even if I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t be your partner! If this match was to be your crowning glory! For the sake of your future children and family! Hell, if your life DEPENDED on this match, I still wouldn’t help!”

 

Z: “But it could! This is FROST I’m facing, here!”

 

King: “Exactly. Alex, I’d call every last bone crushing move Frost pulled out, analyze every limb Frost yanked out, make note of the most *insignificant* psychology involved in your murder at Frost’s hands, if I wasn’t doubled over in laughter at it!”

 

Z: “…You can actually call a match?”

 

King: “RRRRGH…”

 

Z: “Look, King, I’ve pretty much exhausted my options! There’s nobody left who isn’t double-booked, or sworn against my bloodline! You are my last hope! I mean, the only guy who wants to tag with me is *Cutthroat* for crying out loud!”

 

King: “So? Take Cutthroat! I don’t really care; I’m just going to enjoy watching Frost dismantle you tonight. See ya’ at ringside, boyo!”

 

King turns and continues down the hall, as Z hangs his head sadly. He raises it again, an unusually serious look on his face.

 

Z: “I didn’t want it come to this, King.”

 

King stops in the hallway, looking over his shoulder with a weird look on his face.

 

King: “Say what?”

 

Z says nothing, instead holding up the briefcase on his arm, clicking the latches on it. He opens the top with his free hand… and King stumbles back in shock at the contents!

 

King: “How… How did you get them!?”

 

Z(deathly serious): “It doesn’t matter, King. All that matters it that you will never… ever… see them again. Unless…”

 

King: “Yes!?”

 

Z: “Unless you’re my partner tonight! So, what do you value more, Mr. Kamikaze? Your pride? Or…”

 

King clenches his fist in anger, looking at Z in barely constrained rage! Biting his bottom lip forcefully, he manages to restore his usual demeanor… albeit with the twitching left eye.

 

King: “I’ll… think about it.”

 

Z: “Good! Think hard, King!”

 

Z closes the briefcase with a grin, walking away as King glares at him. With Z almost out of sight, King gives the concrete wall a solid kick! He swears loudly… a curse that is amplified with Z’s chorus of…

 

“I’ll be waaaaaiiiting….”

 

King grumbles and stalks down the hall as we fade to...

[Guest crusen86]

Axis: Good day mates, welcome back to SJL Crimson.  I hope you fans are as excited as I am for this next match up between “Deathwish” Danny Williams and Ced Ornandez!

 

King: I’am sure the fans at home are very excited about two slow fat guys in a submission match. Talk about bad booking.  Anyway Edwin, are you trying to end Danny Williams’ career or what?

 

Edwin: Don’t blame me, blame his dealer.  

 

King: That’s not what I mean jackass. What I mean is the guy has a severely sprained ankle, and your putting him in a submission match against Ced. A guy who’s entire offense is built around breaking people’s ankles. Do you really think that’s fair booking.

 

Edwin: Yes I do.  Danny Williams was ordered by his doctors to give up wrestling for at least six months.  Nobody is forcing him to wrestle, he is the one who insists on stepping into the ring.  Last week against MVS, he proved he was one of the smartest and most resilient wrestlers in the company.  Not only is he going to compete tonight, he actually has a good chance of winning.

 

King: Edwin! You know as well as I, the only reason Danny Williams is still wrestling is not because of his resilience, but because he’s hyped up on crack.  Crack heads can’t feel pain, so Danny Williams has no idea how much further damage he is doing to his ankle.  I say you drug test him immediately.  

 

Edwin: Don’t you dare question the my integrity on national television.  All are wrestlers are drug free, dammit!  

 

Axis(casually changing the subject): Well lets talk strategy here gentlemen, if you were Ced how would you go about attacking Williams tonight.

 

King: The ankle. Duh!  Keep Williams away from the ropes, and work his ankle like a mofo. Don’t make any stupid mistakes either.  All Williams needs is small edge, and he can take over a match. If Ced stay focused, he should be able to pick up a very easy win here tonight.  

 

Axis: Edwin, what do you think Williams’ strategy should be tonight.

 

Edwin: Protect the ankle at all cost.  Always stay within ropes reach and be patient.  Ced is a bit more of a risk taker than Williams.  Chances are he will make at least one mistake in this match, and as soon as it happens.  Attack! Attack! Attack!  Remember MVS, Dark Reaper, DeKindes, all have one thing common. They are all great wrestlers that Williams made tap out.  

 

Axis: He also made Cutthroat tap out.

 

King: He said great wrestlers, Axis.

 

Axis: Oh.  Well as you all know, I’m a huge fan of Puro.   Having the privilege of calling this match, is like a dream come true for me.    

 

The arena lights dim slightly and "B4U" pumps up the crowd. The lights around the entranceway flash in rhythm to the bass, the crowd chants "Ced" in unison and the curtains are pulled back by the emerging Ced. He surveys the crowd and slaps the hands of fans while making his way down the ramp. When he gets about midway to the ring he stops and poses as black, blue and silver streamers are thrown from the crowd. After the streamers subside, he dashes and slides into the ring, posing once more for the crowd before warming up for the match.

 

 

The heavy grinding grooves of Dillinger Escape Plans "Calculating Infinity" blasts over the loud speakers. The smarktron simply says Deathwish in white letters and follows that with highlights of Dannys Indie and New Japan Matches. Danny comes out on to the platform, sporting an ankle brace and a bandage on his head.  He simply looks around, and nods his head to a respectful applause from the crowd. He slowly hobbles to the ring with a focused, no nonsense look on his face. He gets in the ring and just warms up.

 

Funyon: This following match is scheduled for one fall.  There will be no  pinfalls, the only way to win is by submission!  Introducing first, standing to my right, weighing in at 238 lbs, he hails from Louisville, Kentucky. “Deathwish” Danny Williamssssssssssssssssss.

 

Williams raises his arm, and gets a few cheers from the crowd.

 

Funyon: And his opponenet, weighing at 210 lbs, he hails from Sacramento, California.  Ced Orandezzzzzzzzz.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!  Williams and Ced step out of the corners, and meet in the center of the ring.  Both men cautiously circle each other, searching for a kink in others armor.  Ced makes a quick dive at Williams ankle, but Williams side steps him. Williams draws back for an elbow, but Ced springs to his feet and goes back paddling.  The two exchange cold stares, and circle each other once more.  This time, they lock up in a collar elbow tie up.  Ced gains the advantage with a side headlock.  It doesn’t last, as Williams quickly reverses it to a hammerlock.  Ced escapes with a drop toe hold, sending Williams face first to the mat.  Ced leaps into the air, and brings both his knees crashing down on Williams’ bad ankle!  Williams screams “Oh my God!”, and rolls out of the ring.  Williams hobbles around, trying to walk the pain off.  Ced calmly watches on from the ring.  Williams adjusts his ankle brace, and looks back up at Ced.  Williams points at Ced, and starts shouting profanities at him.  Ced is unfazed by the taunts, and just shrugs his shoulders at Williams.

 

Axis: Williams wisely bails, as soon as Ced targeted that ankle.  It looked like we were going to have a traditional wrestling match, but Williams seems very upset about Ced’s attack on his ankle.

 

Edwin: Williams didn’t have a problem attacking MVS’s bad leg on Metal.  Why should Ced attacking his bad ankle be any different.  Like I said earlier, he knows the risks he taking, by stepping into the ring.

 

King: Edwin, this is completely different than last week.  MVS went after Williams bad ankle first, and Williams simply taught him a lesson in respect.  If Ced keeps on, Williams is going to do the same to him.  

 

Williams climbs the ring steps, and to the ring apron.  Ced takes a few steps back to let Williams in.  Williams still shouts at Kivell “You watch that sonuvabitch!”  Williams slowly steps through the ropes, and into the ring. Williams rubs his ankle, and approaches Ced.  Both men extend their hands and wiggle their fingers, looking for the lockup.  After a few aborted attempts, the two lock up in a collar elbow tie up.  Williams breaks the grapple, and pops Ced in the jaw with two stiff elbows!  Ced is knocked dizzy, and Williams spins around for the Rolling Elbow.  Ced ducks, and counters with two kicks to Williams’ ankle!  Williams grabs his foot, and bounces up and down on one leg.  Ced dropkicks Williams’ good leg, knocking him to the mat.  Ced grabs Williams bad leg, and starts dropping elbows on his bad ankle.  Williams screams with each elbow drop.  The crowd starts to count along “Seven!.....Eight!......Nine!.......Ten!.......Eleven!.......Twelve!........Thirteen!”  

 

 

Edwin: It looks like Ced is giving Williams a taste of his own medicine.

 

Axis: Ced is using Williams own strategy against him.  If it worked on MVS, why won’t it work on Williams?  

 

King: Ced is to stupid to think of his own plan, so its no surprise he has to steal one.

 

 

 

 

Williams is as white as ghost, and looks like he is about to pass out from the pain.  Ced stops, and takes a couple of breaths before dropping three more elbows to Williams ankle.  Ced than wraps up Williams leg’s for the Nagata Lock!  Williams still has enough power in his legs to push Ced off.  While Ced stumbles into the ropes, Williams crawls to the ropes and tries to slide out of the ring.  Ced catches him by his bad ankle, and drags him back into the ring.  Ced spins Williams on his back, sits between his legs, and bends Williams’ leg upwards into a Leg Lock.  Williams sits up, and locks a Rear Naked Chokehold on Ced.  Ced tries to keep the Leg Lock on, but lack of oxygen forces him to release the ankle.  Williams squeezes with all his power, trying to completely cut off the blow flow to Ced’s brain.

 

Edwin: That ‘s not a submission hold, he’s choking him ref!

 

Axis: Correction Edwin, that is a legal chokehold. Much like a sleeper, the arm is wrapped around the chin, not the throat.  Notice how Williams cleverly isn’t locking on a body scissors.  He doesn’t want to risk letting Ced get his hands on that ankle.  But the draw back to that is, that it  also makes the move easier to escape.

 

King: Ced isn’t going to escape, he’s out cold.

 

Ced appears to go out, and Kivell gives the arm test.  Kivell raises Ced’s arm up, but it drops back to the mat.  Kivell raises Ced’s arm up again, but this time it stays up on its own.  Fighting to stay awake, Ced gathers what strength he has left, for an escape attempt.  Ced uses his powerful legs, to roll over on his belly. Williams keeps the chokehold on, and rides over on his back.  Ced raises his rear end up, and manages to slide out of Williams’ massive arms.  Ced quickly grabs Williams bad leg, and locks on a Reverse Crucifix Kneebar!  Williams screams at the top of his lungs, as Ced twists his ankle.  

 

Axis: What a remarkable display of counter wrestling we are witnessing tonight.  Ced somehow reversed a Rear Naked Chokehold to a Crucifix Kneebar.  He even slight modified to move, so he can twist Williams ankle.  

 

Edwin: Nothing is working for Williams tonight.  He’s tried wrestling, he’s tried brawling, but Ced just has an answer for everything he does.  

 

Williams pounds the mat with his fists, and flings his arms about searching for the ropes.  Kivell asks Williams if he wants to quit, and Williams responds with a “Hell no!”.  Williams digs his fingernails into the mat, and starts pulling himself forward.  Williams makes a painful crawl to the ropes, while dragging Ced on his leg.  After what seems like hours, Williams makes it to the ropes.  Kivell forces Ced to release Williams’ leg.  Ced stands up, and waves for Williams to get up.  Williams pulls himself up with the ropes.  As soon as Williams is on his feet, Ced smacks his ankle with a vicious kick.  Williams lets out an angry growl, and hammers  Ced’s leg with a thumping shin kick!  Ced’s face doesn’t even change expressions.  Ced waves his finger at Williams, and nearly takes his head off with a Roundhouse Kick out of nowhere!  

 

 

Axis: Those shin kicks that served Williams so well in his match against MVS, are completely useless tonight.  Ced’s legs are just too big and powerful.

 

Edwin: Ced has got legs like tree tunks! Williams is going to have to find another way to hurt Ced.

 

Williams wobbles, but uses the ropes to stay on his feet.  Ced follows with a cracking ankle kick!  Williams drops to the mat and crawls to a corner.  

 

Edwin: Ced is having his way Williams.  Much like how I had my way with his wife.

 

King: How many times do I have to tell you!  I’am not married, you dumbass!  

 

Ced stalks him and waits as Williams uses the ropes to pull himself up.  Ced kicks Williams in the gut, with a smacking roundhouse kick.  Williams drops to his knees, but Ced pulls him by his chin and smacks his chest with a knife edge chop! “Wooooo!”  The blow hits Willliams chest, like a bag of bricks.  Ced draws back his hand, and fires an even harder second chop! “Wooooo!”  Williams chest turns blood red from the stiff chops.  Ced draws back his hand again, but Williams chops him first! Williams chops his way out of the corner, backing Ced up along the ropes.  Williams keeps a hand on the ropes, so he doesn’t have to put weight on his bad ankle. The crowd “Woooos” along, until their throats get soar.  

 

Axis: Williams is fighting back with those brutal chops.  Maybe Williams can finally get some offense going.      

 

Edwin: Woooooo!  I love the sound of chops across human flesh! Chop, Choppy, Chop. Chop!

 

King: What the hell are you talking about?

 

After about 5 chops, Ced is backed up into the next corner.  Williams swings a big chop, but Ced ducks and spins out of the corner.  Ced pushes Williams in the corner, and gives him three hard chops.  The crowd gives up on “Wooooing” along.  Williams slumps to one knee, and Ced starts driving knees into this face.  Williams head lifelessly bounces back and forth with each blow.  Ced backs up, and waits for Williams to stand back up.  As soon as Williams slowly climbs to his feet, Ced charges and smashes his face with a running Yakuza Kick!  Sweat particles fly of Williams and disappear into the air.  Williams’ eyes roll back in this head, and he crumbles to the mat.  Ced grabs Williams by his ankle, and drags him out of the corner.  Ced grapevines Williams legs and locks on the Superior Stretch!  

 

Axis: The Superior Stretch!  Once again it appears Ced is using Williams own strategy from last week against him.  This move made MVS tap, and I really don’t see Williams getting out it!

 

King: What is this the move or month? It didn’t take long at all for everybody to start stealing Durandal’s move.

 

Edwin: It’s a copy of a copy.  

.  

 

Williams has to bite his tongue to keep from screaming his head off.  Veins bulge from Ced’s arms and neck, as he strains to keep the hold applied. Williams huffs and puffs like a pissed bull, and gathers up all his power.  With a straining scream, Williams pushes himself up, and walks on his hands to the ropes.  Ced tries to walk with him, to keep the hold applied.  Its no use, as Williams firmly wraps his arms around the ropes. A frustrated Ced, releases the hold and slams Williams legs to the mat.  Ced is pouring sweat and out of breath.  Ced steps away from Williams and waits with his hands on his knees.  Williams’ pulls himself up with the ropes.  Williams waves Ced to come on, and Ced doesn’t keep him waiting.  Ced kicks Williams’ leg right out from underneath him.  Williams drops to the mat, but pulls himself right back up.  Ced grabs Williams leg, and pulls him off the ropes with a Dragon Screw Leg Whip! Williams crawls up to his hands and knees.  Ced rolls on the mat, and flattens him with an Enzigiri!  Ced’s boot connects with the back of Williams head with a sick crack. Ced circles Williams’ lifeless body, shouting taunts at him.  Ced steps on Williams ankle, and starts twisting away. Williams raises his head up, and starts screaming.  Ced bends down and starts pulling Williams’ foot up, while holding his ankle down with his boot.

 

Edwin: Ced is just toying with Williams right now!  

 

King: Big mistake!  Nobody toys with Williams.  Remember what I said, one mistake and its all over.  

 

Williams shakes his head, as soon as Kivell kneels in front of him.  Ced releases the hold and lets Willliams up. Williams hobbles to his feet, and looks Ced right in the eyes.  Ced breaks the stare down with an ankle kick.  Williams drops to one knee, but stands right back up.  Williams raises his middle finger right in Ced’s face.  Ced swats it away, and dropkicks Williams in the ankle.  Williams drops to the mat, but swallows his scream.   Williams fights the increasing pain in his ankle, and starts climbing back to his feet.  Ced gives Williams taunting nudges with his boot as he climbs up.  As soon as Williams is on his feet, Ced casually  swings a hard round house kick to his body.  Williams catches it, and smashes Ced’s jaw with an elbow!  Ced smiles at Williams and quickly tries to dropkick his ankle.  Williams side steps it, and smashes Ced with a Rolling Elbow as he gets up!  

 

King: Told you!  Ced played around to much, and now he’s gonna pay.

 

Edwin: Will see about that.  Williams is a gimp, and Ced has barely taken any punishment.  .  

 

Ced drops to the mat, but slowly climbs back to his feet.  Williams grabs Ced by his hair, and unleashes the Elbow Combo of Doom!  Ced remains standing, but is out on his feet.  Williams lets out an emotional battle cry to the crowd and floors Ced  a Fireman Carry. In one fluid motion Williams locks on a Cross Armbreaker!  Wiliams pulls back with all might, trying to snap Ced’s arm.  

 

Axis: This is Williams’ first real submission attempt of the night!  It could also be the only one he needs.

 

King: Wouldn’t that be something.  Ced spends the whole match working over Williams ankle, only for Williams to steal the match out of nowhere!

 

Using his free arm, Ced begins elbowing Williams bad ankle.  Williams sucks up the pain, and keeps the hold applied tightly.  Ced gives up, and reaches out for the ropes.  His finger tips grace the bottom rope, but he can’t get a grip.  Fighting the numbing pain in his shoulder, Ced plants his feet firmly in the mat.  Ced uses all the power of his legs, to propel himself at the ropes. Ced locks his hand around the free rope, and Kivell forces Williams to release the hold.  Williams pulls Ced up by his left arm, and twists Ced’s arm in the air, for the Armbreaker.  Out of desperation, Ced kicks Williams in his bad ankle!  Williams lets out a hellish scream, and releases Ced.  

 

Edwin: That sounded like that hurt!

 

Axis: Good thinking by Ced!  As soon as he got in trouble, he went right back to that ankle.

 

King: Come on Williams, protect that ankle!

 

Williams turns around, and eats a Gamegiri out of nowhere!  Williams drops lifelessly to the mat, and appears to be out cold.  Ced shakes off the pain in his arm, and grabs both of Williams’ limp legs.  Ced drags Williams to the center of the ring, and locks on the Nagata Lock!  

 

Axis: Ced finally locks on the Nagata Lock! Will all the work he did on Williams ankle finally pay off!

 

Williams comes back to life, and sets up screaming.  Ced flinches as he uses all the power of his legs, to keeps the hold on tightly.  While shaking from pain, Williams actually stretches forward, and tries to unknot his legs from Ced’s.  Ced leans forward, and starts chopping away at Williams’ forehead.  Williams gives up, and falls back to the mat.  Williams face wrinkles and he is forced to bite his lip to keep from screaming.  Kivell asks Williams if he wants to submit.  Williams manages to spit out  “No Dammit!”.  Williams sits back up, and starts scooting him and Ced backwards to the ropes.  Ced scratches at the mat, trying  to hold his ground. Its no use, as Williams manages to make it within arms length of the ropes.  Williams falls back, and reaches out his weary arms for the ropes.  Suddenly, Ced starts scooting backwards, pulling Williams from the ropes.  Ced drags them all the way back to the hell that is the center of the ring , and chuckles as if to say “I got ya!”.  Fighting to stay conscious, Williams sits back up.  Ced’s chuckles turn to a stare of disbelief.  A determined Williams, starts his long journey back to the ropes.  Ced claws the mat, and stains with all his might to put more pressure on Williams’ ankle.  Again, Williams scoots within ropes reach, and falls back..  Williams hands shake uncontrollably from pain, as he reaches for the ropes.  Ced starts to scoot back, but its too late!  Williams locks both his hands around the bottom rope.  

 

Edwin: Williams has done the impossible , and escaped the Nagata Lock!  

 

King: What a blow this is to Ced’s confidence.  Real World Champions don’t let people escape your finisher.  

 

Kivell starts counting, and a frustrated Ced releases the hold.  Williams remains laying on his back, with his hands gripped on the bottom rope.  Ced grabs Williams’ legs and tries to jerk him off the rope, but Williams won’t budge.  Ced stands on his heels and falls back with all his body weight.  Williams still keeps a death grip on the bottom rope.  A pissed Ced jumps to his feet, and starts stomping Williams’ chest.  Despite getting a mud hole stomped in his chest, Williams still won’t let go of the ropes. Ced moves his attack upstairs, and starts kicking Williams in his face.  Finally, Williams goes limp and releases his grip.  Ced takes a couple of deep breaths and wipes some sweat off his forehead.  Ced grabs Williams legs, and drags his lifeless body to the center of the ring.  An exhausted Ced calmly goes for locks on a Spinning Toe Hold to set up the Nagata Lock.  Suddenly, Williams opens his eyes and kicks Ced right in the mouth.  Williams gets free, and frantically crawls back to the bottom rope.

 

Axis: Williams is going right back to the rope.  If Ced wants to win,  he is going to have to keep him in the center of the ring.

 

Edwin: Williams needs to just call it quits.  He has nothing left to prove, Ced was just the better man tonight.  This is like a losing basketball team fouling at the end of the game. All it does is postpone defeat.  

 

While lying on his belly, Williams wraps his arms around the bottom the rope.  Ced wipes some blood off his lip, and loudly shouts “Sonuvabitch!”. With crazy eyes, an extremely  pissed Ced marches to Williams.  Ced starts violently stomping away on Williams’ head and back.  Realizing he is getting nowhere, Ced moves his attack down to the ankle.  Williams screams in agony, as Ced stomps his busted ankle. Williams can’t take much more, and tucks his knees underneath him as far they will go.  Williams looks pitiful, curled up in a ball on the bottom rope.  Ced quits stomping, in favor of dropping a thumping Axe Kicks across Williams neck.  After about 4 kicks, Williams releases his grip on the ropes.  Seizing the moment, Ced pulls a wobbly Williams up by his tights.  Ced wraps his arms around William’s waist, and plants him with a ring shaking Back Drop Suplex.  Ced slowly staggers to his feet,  and looks to lock on the Nagata Lock again.  Ced has second thoughts, and just opts to stretch Williams leg out on the mat.  Ced signals he’s going up, and starts climbing the nearest turnbuckles.  

 

Edwin: What the hell is he thinking? Why doesn’t he just try the Nagata Lock again.

 

Axis: Williams already has escaped the Nagata Lock once.  Ced wants to do so much damage to William’s ankle, it will be a sure tap.  

 

King: It looks like he is going to try the top rope back elbow. A move he stole from me, I might add.  

 

Ced reaches the top turbuckle, and balances himself on the top rope(facing the crowd).  Williams pops to his feet, and dives on the top rope.  Ced loses his balance, and falls to the floor.  With a sick thump, Ced hits the floor left shoulder first.  Ced sits up in shock, and keeps his left arm locked straight down.  Ced opens his mouth, but can’t make a sound. It looks like he is in to much pain to even scream.   Williams hobbles off the ropes, like his left foot has been amputated.  Williams leans over the ropes, and observes Ced.  Ced shakes his head, and come out of his trance.

 

Edwin: What a fall! Dear God! I have never seen anybody fall from that high, and land like Ced did.  

 

Axis: Ced may have dislocated his shoulder on that fall.  This will play right into Williams’ hands.  We all know how Williams likes to work over the shoulder and arm of his victim.  

 

King: I told you so, I told you so!  Ced took the high risk, and Williams made him pay for it.  Its all over with now!

 

Still keeping his left arm straight, a drowsy Ced climbs on the apron.  Williams greets him two quick elbows to the jaw. Williams spins Ced around, and locks his arms around his waist.  Williams lifts Ced over the ropes, and slams on his left shoulder with a modified Backdrop Driver!  Ced flops around on the mat, screaming in pain.  Williams grabs Ced’s left arm, and easily pulls him to his feet.  Williams lifts Ced’s arm in the air, and snaps it across his shoulder for the Armbreaker!  Ced collapses to the mat, but immediately sits up.  Ced’s eyes are alive with pain, and his mouth hangs lifelessly open.  Clinching his shoulder, Ced fearfully scoots away from Williams. Williams confidently stalks him, and has no trouble catching up.  Williams grabs Ced’s arm, and jerks him up to his feet.  Williams goes for another Armbreaker, but Ced blasts him with a hard ankle kick! Williams releases Ced, and spins around.  Ced goes for the Gamegiri, but Williams’ blocks it!  As Ced climbs to his feet, Williams blasts him with the Rolling Elbow!  Ced’s head jerks sickly from impact, and he crumbles to the mat.  

 

King: Williams just knocked Ced right out, with that elbow!  Now he needs to go back to the arm, and try to get the submission.  

 

Axis: Ced tried to make a comeback, like he did earlier.  But he just doesn’t have anything left.  Williams has completely murdered him with those elbows.

 

Edwin: That fall really took the life out of Ced.  He needs to do like Williams did earlier, and lay on the ropes. Try to buy some time to recover.  

 

Williams puts his hands on his knees, and sucks up all the air he can. With glazed over eyes, Ced  starts to climb to his feet.  Williams takes position behind him and waits with outstretched arms.  As soon as Ced is on two legs, Williams clamps on the Crossface Chickenwing!  Ced immediately darts to the ropes, as a crippled Williams struggles to keep the hold on.  Ced swiftly makes it the ropes, and Kivell starts counting. Williams releases the hold, and starts pounding Ced’s neck with elbows.  Despite the beating, Ced keeps his arms locked on the ropes.  Williams does a spin, and blasts Ced’s neck with the Rolling Elbow!  Ced releases his grip on the ropes, and drops to one knee.  Williams locks his arms around Ced’s waist and pulls him to feet.  Williams bends his knees, and tosses Ced with the Release German!  Ced’s head bounces off the mat, and he flips over face down.  Williams hops on foot over to Ced’s motionless corpse.  Williams mounts Ced’s body, and snaps on the Crossface Chickenwing!  

 

King: Double C! Its all over with now!

 

Axis: Williams’ tried and proven finisher. He has made many of greats, tap out to this hold!  It looks like Ced is going to be next on that list.

 

Edwin: It’s not over yet, Ced can still make it to the ropes.  

 

Williams rolls on his back, and traps Ced with a body scissors.  Ced clamps his teeth together to fight the pain, and starts pushing his way to the ropes.  Williams is forced to break the body scissors, but he keeps the hold firmly locked on.  Ced reaches out his leg as far as it can go, and his toes grace the rope.  Williams turns on his side, completely taking the ropes out of Ced’s reach.  Ced has nothing left, and he is forced to tap out!  

 

DING! DING! DING!  Kivell raises Williams arm in the air, getting a small applause.

 

Axis: Williams has stolen another victory here tonight.  I just don’t see how Williams can keep going at this rate. He’s managed to get through two grueling matches, with a severely sprained ankle.

 

King: I keep telling you guys.  Its starts with a C and ends with K.  

 

Edwin: COCK!

 

King: No dumbass! Where’s your mind at? I’am talking about crack!

 

Axis: Lets not go there again. I was expecting a great match, and I wasn’t disappointed at all.  Ced started off by using the same strategy Williams used on  MVS. At times copying move for move.  However Williams wisely did the smart thing, by sticking to the ropes. He was able to frustrate Ced enough, into forcing him to take a high risk move to get a sure kill!

 

King: Big mistake as Ced injured his shoulder. Making it an easy set up for the Chickenwing.  

 

Axis: Hey Edwin, how come you haven’t had any zingers tonight!

 

Edwin: Because the writer sucks!  Maybe I shouldn’t talk about this on the air, but the dumbass still hasn’t gotten a feel for my personality.  

 

King: He did a good job last week!

 

Edwin: But that’s only because he was off work, and had an extra day to devote to nothing but my lines.  

 

King: If that’s the case and he had that long to come up with those dumb lines, than those lines sucked too.

 

Axis: I don’t know about you Edwin, but I haven’t a problem with my lines.

 

King: That’s cause you have no personality Axis.

 

Axis: Oh, well we have to take a commercial break, so stay tuned folks!

[Guest crusen86]

The camera fades back in from commercial to focus on the commentator’s table and the SJL’s erstwhile Three Amigos holding court there.  Axis files through important papers and makes notes with a very classy $200 pen while Edwin thrashes away at a Gameboy like a monkey hopped up on speed.  King has a glassy eyed stare on his face and appears to be almost catatonic.  Axis looks up and sees the red light on the camera.

 

Axis: “Oh, welcome back everyone.  We have already had one thrilling Crimson, but that’s par for the course here in the SJL.  However, our next match promises to be something none of us have ever seen before or probably will again.”

 

Edwin: (mashing at buttons) “Run, run, run, watch out for the fried egg, get the lettuce, not the wiener…THE WIENER ATE ME! (Edwin slams the Gameboy down to the table and pants from exertion like he just ran the Boston Marathon.  Axis eyes him with confusion) Burger Time is the greatest thing ever devised by human minds ever.”

 

Axis: “As true as that might be, Edwin, do you have anything to say of our upcoming handicap match between Frost and Z and his unknown mystery partner.”

 

Edwin: “Hey, I love love, don’t get me wrong, but Frost disrespected the World title by letting Sydney Sky make the pin for it.  Now, I don’t think we need to hook his nuts up to a car battery or dress him in a panda suit, but retribution must be payed.”

 

Axis: “I think it shows just how much Frost really does care for Sky as he would give up what would be the crowing accomplishment of his career in a World title to show how much he loves her.  It doesn’t cheapen the title, but proves his love, which he obviously needs to do even more.  Your take, King?”

 

King: (turning like a zombie to Axis) “Yeah, yeah, whatever you said.”

 

Edwin: “I’ve told you not to take more than one Zoloft pill at a time.”

 

But before Axis and Edwin can explore King’s detached state the slashing guitar wails of “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” blares over the loudspeakers and Frost appears at the top of the entrance ramp in full wrestling gear.  His mood can be described as being as equally detached as King’s with his mind clearly elsewhere.  The crowd booing is very light, as even the hardcore wrestling fans of the SJL can sympathize with a man dealing with heartbreak.

 

Funyon: (inside the ring with mic in hand) “Now entering the arena for the upcoming handicap match at a weight of 296lbs. from Reykjavik, Iceland.  Tonight he is the Force of One, YOUR SJL European champion Frrrrrroooooooosssssssst!”

 

Edwin: “Frost seems as brain dead as you King, but then again you being brain dead shouldn’t surprise me.”

 

(King opens his mouth to reply, but just sighs and hangs his head.  Edwin is taken aback by the loss of his sparring partner.)

 

Axis: “Z and pretty much anyone he chooses would be outgunned by the strength and determination of the Euro champ, but with his mind on Sydney Sky he is very vulnerable to defeat.”

 

Frost puts his hand on the second ring rope and pulls himself up to the apron.  He steps over the top ring rope and absent mindedly hands his belt to referee Sexton Hardcastle, who deposits it at ringside.  Faith No More’s “Epic” fills the auditorium and the crowd pops for Z stepping out behind the backstage curtain with a microphone in hand.

 

Funyon: “Introducing from Trenton, New Jersey at 229 lbs., a key member of XF9 and one half of the Z&C Connection; ladies and gentlemen, this…is…ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

 

 

ZZZZZ…!”

 

Z: (switching on his mic to cut off Funyon) “…ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ

 

 

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…(his face turns beat red as he runs out of air and gasps for breath.  He leans over with his hands on his knees and wheezes) Ok…ok…give me a second here (he gives a gut wrenching cough that sounds like he just hacked up a lung) Oh, yeah…anyway I know what you are all wondering and no, I don’t know how they cram all that graham.”

 

Edwin: “Damn, I was sure he knew the answer, will I never know?”  (Edwin looks to the heaven’s and shakes his fist at an unmerciful God)

 

Z: “In other news, who is going to be my tag team partner?  Well, after that last match, it sure isn’t going to be Ced.  Tod deKindes was…(he gropes for a word) preoccupied when I talked to him.  Sacred won’t return my calls.  Cutthroat was willing, but while I might be crazy, I’m not stupid.  Hell, I almost called in the Memphis Eel.”

 

The crowd groans and Edwin and Axis both shudder as if they just heard the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

 

Z: (holding up a finger to the crowd) “I said almost.  When everything else failed, I had a plan Q in mind and I just had to pull the trigger on it.”

 

Z holds up the briefcase attached his right wrist and shakes it.  King goes pale white and fidgets in his seat.

 

Z: “So, without further ado, because I know Frost has some elk to molest later tonight, let me introduce my tag team partner.”

 

Z throws his hands up joyfully in the air and spreads his legs out to form a human X.  The audience waits with bated breath and after a long second they finally hear echoing through the arena…

 

“"ALL ABOARD!! AH HAH HAH HAH!!"

 

The fans remain silent for a long beat before a ground swell of cheering fills the arena as they all realize what the playing of “Crazy Train” means.

 

Edwin: “IT’S OZZY OSBOURNE! Z’S PARTNER IS OZZY OSBOURNE! OH MY GOD, THE RATINGS! THE RATINGS! AH HAH HAH HAH!”

 

King rises to his feet and gives the celebrating Edwin a light slap on the back of his head to break his revelry.

 

King: “No, you idiot, his partner’s me.”

 

Axis: (stunned) “YOU! You’re coming our of retirement to tag with Z.”

 

King: “It’s a long story, but Z is holding my closest friend hostage and this is the only way I can get them back.”

 

Z skips down the ring ramp like a schoolgirl and around to the commentator’s table.  Frost eyes Z suspiciously from inside the ring and retreats to the upper left ring corner to stand in wait.  Z unlocks the handcuff from his right wrist and places the briefcase that has been with him all night in front of Axis on the table.

 

Z: “I know I can trust this with you, old buddy, but to be sure I’ll keep the key to the case with me.”

 

Z pulls another key out of the front pocket of his camo jacket, waves it in front of King’s face, pulls the waistband of his cargo pants out and then drops the key into his shorts.

 

Edwin: “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone going down there to get it.”

 

King takes off his headset and steps in front of the table to face Z.  Z looks King up and down as he is decked out in a black polo shirt and dark blue dress jeans.

 

Z: “Uh, aren’t you going to put on your wrestling gear.”

 

King: “No.”

 

Z shrugs his shoulders and slides underneath the near bottom rope to the ring.  King trots up the ring stairs and enters the squared circle through the second rope.  Although one of the great heels of all time, the fans explode with one of the loudest face pops you will ever hear just to see the King of Hearts in action.

 

Funyon: “And introducing Z’s partner from Dayton, Ohio at a weight of 224lbs.  He is a former SWF World Heavyweight Champion, the Gambling Man, the Heartbreaker, the…SUICIDE…KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG!”

 

Funyon makes a grand sweep of his left arm to gesture toward King and the crowd renews their mad cheering.  King yawns and mockingly waves his hand to the fans like a beauty pageant contestant.

 

Axis: “Wow, the Suicide King comes out of retirement to tag with Z.  Whatever is in this briefcase, it must mean the world to him.”

 

Edwin: “King said Z was holding his closest friend hostage, so maybe Verne Troyer is in there.  (he slaps the top of the briefcase and leans down to be eye level with the clasp) YOU OK IN THERE LITTLE BUDDY!”

 

Funyon leaves the ring and King makes to step through the ropes to the apron.  Z puts a hand on King’s shoulder to stop him.  Z holds out his left palm and positions his right fist clenched over it.  He motions for King to do the same and with his patience growing thin, he obliges.

 

Axis: “It appears that Z wants to play paper, rock, scissors to see who starts this epic contest.”

 

King beats Z with rock over scissors and makes to leave again, but Z stops him and asks for another go around.

 

Axis: “Z wants best two our of three.”

 

King wins again with paper over rock.  Z shakes his head and wants to go again.

 

Edwin: “3 out of 7 on way to best 99 out of 201.”

 

King wins by rock over scissors again and Z stomps his foot in frustration and wants to go again.  

 

Edwin: “King’s eyes narrow with new found hatred for Z, not that he liked him in the first place.”

 

Frost snaps too after growing tired with Z’s tedious stalling and charges across the ring to sandwich his opponents in the bottom right ring corner.  King catches Frost out of the corner of his eye and jutes to his left and through the ring ropes as Frost avalanches Z in the corner.  Z takes the turnbuckle hard in the chest and his eyes bug out and his tongue flies out of his mouth like a party streamer.

 

DING DING DING

Axis: “Frost attacks to get this contest underway, and while his mind may not be in this match, one cannot question that he is very distraught and looking to release a lot of pent up emotion.”

 

Edwin: “Replace distraught with ‘pissed off.’”

 

Frost wraps his arms around Z’s waist and hoists him up and over his head in a German Suplex.  Frost lets go as Z’s neck slams into the mat and he rolls over on his face to prop himself up on his elbows and knees.  Frost pops to his feet and delivers a swift boot to Z’s rear and he goes sprawling across the mat.

 

Axis: “You can’t deny that King is a great asset to Z as a partner, but he won’t do him any good if he never gets in the ring.”  

 

Edwin: “Ok, now take asset and remove the ‘et.’”

 

Z crawls over to the near corner and pulls himself up by the second rope.  Frost stalks in behind Z and locks his fingers around the grappler’s blue hair to yank him the rest of the way up.  He turns Z around to rest in the corner and takes him by his right wrist.  Frost leans forward with a shoulder into Z’s chest and whips him with gusto across the ring to the opposite corner.  Z turns in mid rush and takes the turnbuckle in the back.  He holds his hand up for the tag and King flings himself backward out of the corner to the floor to land on his feet.  Z looks down at King and he shouts back at him.

 

Axis: “I believe King is implying that the force of the blow in the corner knocked him to the floor.”

 

Edwin: “You want to start a pool on how long King can go without having to make the tag?”

 

Frost walks purposefully over to Z and takes him by the wrist again.  He whips him across the ring and Z takes the turnbuckle he just left in the back.  Frost charges in with his arm out for a clothesline, gaining steam with each step.  Z leans forward and collapses to the mat.  Frost runs right over him and posts himself in the corner.  Frost ricochets off the top turnbuckle and grabs his chest.  King leaps back up to the apron.

 

Axis: “A costly error by Frost as he needs to keep himself fresh in this two on one circumstance.”

 

Edwin: “He’s beating Z’s ass so hard, it’s coming back on him and he winds up kicking his own ass to boot.”

 

Z scrambles on hands and knees between Frost’s legs in a beeline to his corner.  King makes a half hearted reach out for the tag, but Frost bends down and catches Z by the seat of his cargo pants and pulls him back through his legs.  Frost locks his arms around Z’s waist and spins him up and to his chest.  Z locks his ankles behind Frost’s neck.

 

Axis: “Z blocks the Early Winter, but doesn’t seem to have enough leverage to rana the big man over.”

 

Z hangs suspended from Frost’s neck like some gaudy necklace.  He leans up slightly and jerks his body back to no effect.  He does it again, still no dice on the rana.  Frost stands there like he could hang out in the middle of the ring with Z hanging off his neck all day.

 

Edwin: “Now, I’m thinking sending Z and a mystery partner after Frost wasn’t such a good punishment idea.  Axis, do you still have the Memphis Eel’s number?” (Axis cringes and half gags like he caught wind of some foul stench)

 

Frost puts both of his hands on Z’s waist to elevate him up almost straight out.  Frost then spins in a circle, holding his arms out to his side to steady himself.

 

Edwin: “It’s Zangrief doing his special.”

 

Z bobs up and down in the air while Frost builds centripetal force.  He suddenly stops short and Z goes flying off across the ring.  While his feet do break loose, the toes of his boots catch Frost in the back of the head and he goes down to his knees.  Z winds up lying half way on the ring apron and bails to the floor.  He stumbles around dizzy and holds his hand to his mouth while his cheeks bulge out like he’s going to hurl.

 

Edwin: “If I ever build that SJL theme park, I think we get our first ride.”

 

Z stumbles over to his corner and slaps King on the bottom of the leg.  King looks down at his would be partner on the floor with vehemence.  Hardcastle slaps his hands together to signify a tag.

 

Axis: “While not really a legal tag, Hardcastle is going to allow it and the Suicide King reluctantly enters the ring.”

 

Edwin: “Well, Sexton is still mastering reading so he can get through the rule book, so maybe he just hasn’t got to the tag rules section yet.”

 

King steps into the squared circles and the fans are full goose bozo with noise.  King circles wearily around Frost and finally holds his arms up to motion his want for a lockup.  Frost puts his own arms up and moves forward to oblige, but King back off to the corner and struts.

 

Axis: “Wow, what an auspicious moment to see the Suicide King back in the ring, but Frost seems less than impressed at going against a legend.”

 

Edwin: “I might have mentioned off hand for Z to seek out King, I might not really like the guy, hell he’s the bane of my existence, but I’d hate to see him Frosty kill him.  Mainly because of the wrongful death suits his family could file against us.”

 

King gestures for another lockup and Frost moves in toward him.  The men’s arms barely graze each other before King jumps back away from Frost into the far corner.  He puts a hand to his golden locks, tosses them and points at Frost to imply he was pulling his hair.  The crowd jeers good naturedly, getting into King’s act.

 

Edwin: “Wake me up if he ever wrestles.”  (Edwin throws his head back and pretends to snore very loudly and gutterly)

 

Hardcastle snaps at King for stalling and tells him to get to work.  Frost stands in the ring betraying no emotion on his face, but the tightness in his shoulders and chest reveal that he is becoming frustrated.  Z has made it back to his corner and claps with cheerleader like fervor to encourage his new partner.  King makes for the lockup again, but this time Frost simply throws out a haymaker right hand that grazes over King’s head.  King pops off his feet and does a 450 flip like he just got hit in the stomach with a cannonball.

 

Axis: “That blow sends King reeling, but I’m not sure if it really connected.”

 

Edwin: “Phantom lockups, phantom selling of phantom punches; call Billy Zane.”

 

Frost, not taken aback in the slightest by King’s overselling, bends over to pick King up off the mat.  King lunges forward to grab his ankle and drop toeholds Frost down.  The tall man falls awkwardly into the near corner and strikes his head into the second turnbuckle.  King struts and points at Z, who struts on the apron and points back.

 

Axis: “HE DID IT! HE GOT FROST OFF HIS FEET! WHAT A MOMENTOUS OCCASION!”

 

Edwin: “Calm down there, Tony Schiavone, he didn’t exactly win the Super Bowl.”  

 

Frost rises up on his knees and holds a hand to his sore jaw.  King turns and measures the big man.  Frost stands up to one foot and King rushes in to hook him with a ¾ headlock before he can achieve his full height and balance.  The Gambling Man rolls the dice by running up the near turnbuckles with sure footed speed and jumps off, twisting Frost’s head forward as he does.  King hammers Frost’s skull into the mat on the diving reverse DDT out of the corner.

 

Axis: “A SHINOBI! KING HITS FROST WITH THE SHINOBI OUT OF NOWHERE!”

 

Edwin: “A signature move from Smackdown 3 and you said playing video games wouldn’t get us anywhere.”

 

King kips to his feet from the canvas and the fans roar with approval.  Z wildly gesticulates for King to make the cover.  King shrugs his shoulders at Z and shoots him a look of ‘what’s the rush.’  Just to bug Z more, King puts his hands on the back of his head and swivels his hips in a very sexual manner.  The women of the audience swoon.

 

Edwin: “Let’s see here, he’s been in the ring for about five minutes and he’s done 2 moves and 7 different stalling tactics.”

 

King: “As great as King is, strength is one of his weaker points and I don’t think he hit Frost as hard as he thinks he did.”

 

True to Axis’ words, Frost climbs back up to his feet behind King’s back.  His face is beat red with anger and every tendon in his neck and shoulders is about ready to pop from rage.  Z screams like a schoolgirl for King to turn around.  Confused as to what is troubling Z, he spins around on the heels of his Gucci loafers to stand nose to heaving chest with the Icelandic brute.  King slowly lifts his head to look up into the eyes of the much taller man with his mouth agape.  King drops to his feet and scoots back into his corner with his hands up, begging for his life.

 

Axis: “The King reverts to form.”

 

King: “Pleading for mercy, a signature of not only King’s matches, but his dates as well.”

 

King holds his hand up for the tag, but Z just stands on the apron looking dumbfounded at Frost.  King looks over at Z and then hits him with a short jab to the stomach.  Z gives an ‘oof’ and wakes up.  Hardcastle points to the corner to acknowledge the tag and Z has to reenter the ring.  King slithers back to the apron and the audience gives him a nice round of appreciative applause.

 

Axis: “The fans show approval of King’s ring work, but I can’t say it has left Frost any worse off than when he first came in.”

 

Z tries to take a page out of the King’s playbook by motioning for a lockup, but Frost has learned that tactic by now and sends a swift kick into Z’s midsection.  He clutches his stomach and sinks to his knees while looking over at King in the corner.  King throws his hands up and yells, “worked for me.”

 

Axis: “Despite Frost’s mind being elsewhere, he is still a very smart ring general and King’s coy stalling tactics are not going to fool him for long.”

 

Edwin: “Long enough for King, but not long enough for Z.  You can just watch a guy get his ass beat so much before it just becomes sad.  Thankfully, we’re not quite there yet.”

 

Frost bends over and takes Z by his dirty blue mane of hair and lifts him to his feet.  Frost puts his free hand between Z’s legs and brings the other down into the grappler’s chest.  He lifts Z high over is head to set up the Gorilla press slam and parades him around the ring to show up the booing crowd.  Z lifts up his head and frantically yells at King to do something.  King brings his hands up and starts clapping them together and chanting, “let’s go Z” in a bland monotone.  Z shakes his head and crosses himself as best he can.

 

Edwin: “Z looks for a little help from the Lord.  Now, he would be a wicked awesome tag team partner.  I wonder what his finisher would be.”

 

Axis: “Crucifix powerbomb.” (Edwin shakes his head in agreement)

 

Frost gives a primal roar to the fans, showing that he is coming out of his doldrums, and finally slams Z down to the mat face first.  Z springs off the mat almost a foot and quickly scrambles to his rear and backs into the lower left ring corner.  King from the apron screams “nut shot.”  Frost stalks over and bends down to pick Z up.  Z apparently heard King and with a look of “here goes nothing” brings his forearm smashing up between the Icelander’s legs into his testicles.  Frost collapses to the canvas in pain.

 

Axis: “Z makes with the great equalizer at King’s behest.”

 

Edwin: “See, he learned something from the total nut shot match with Flex, he learned a valuable lesson like one might find in the gospels.”

 

Z celebrates as Frost woozily makes his feet and wobbles into the center of the ring.  Z leans back into the near ropes and rushes off with an arm grenade.  Frost stumbles back, but does not fall.  King yells for him to do it again.  Z runs back into the ropes again and leaps off his feet with a flying grenade this time.  Frost teeters back like a great oak one swing of the axe away from falling.  

 

Axis: “Z takes it to Frost with his only one true power move, but one move might be enough to fully turn the tables.”

 

Edwin: “Since your throwing clichés out there, let me say that Z might be going to the well one too many times here.”

 

King hollers for Z to do another one and he leans back into the ropes as far as he can go and slingshots off toward Frost.  Frost comes briefly around and ducks his head on instinct to catch Z in the midsection and backdrops him over.  Z flies outrageously with all limb flailing across the ring.  King puts is face into his hands and mutters.

 

Edwin: “Ah that was fun while it lasted.”

 

Z lies in a crumpled heap just in front of the upper right ring corner.  Frost staggers over and bends to pick Z up by his feet.  Frost ties Z’s legs up in the ring corner and hangs him upside down from the tree of woe.  King tentatively edges up the ring apron to observe the goings on.

 

Axis: “Frost recovers from Z’s offensive outburst and now hangs him in the tree of woe for what promises to be a severe thrashing.”

 

Edwin: “Tree of woe, where did that name come from?  Did Wes Craven use to wrestle at some point?”

 

Frost grips the top ring rope with both hands and starts laying kicks into Z’s stomach.  A nearby camera picks up his muffled squeals.

 

Z: “Ooo…ah…ow…not in the face…oof…oy…stop with the kicking…and the gouging…and the flavin…and the ow ow owing.”

 

Frost lands a boot that sinks deep into Z’s pudgy gut and, as he pulls his foot back, the tip of his boot catches on Z’s waistband and the key to the briefcase falls out to the mat.

 

Axis: “The key has been knocked loose from inside Z’s pants.  King definitely sees it and appears to be going after it.”

 

Edwin: “The key or the inside of Z’s pants?”

 

King creeps in low on the apron, eyeing the key laying in the strands of Z’s raggedy blue hair.  Frost shoots a knee to Z’s upturned midsection and he comes loose from the turnbuckle to flop over on his face.  Frost takes Z by the ankles and drags him back to the center of the ring.  Z spots the key and reaches out for it, but it is just beyond his tortured grasp.  King leans through the ropes to swipe the key and jumps to the floor.  Frost forcibly jerks Z to his feet by his shoulders and looks for a submission victory.

 

Axis: “KING HAS THE KEY TO THE BRIEFCASE AND FROST HAS Z IN THE COBRA CLUTCH.”

 

King rushes over to the briefcase and unlocks it.

 

Edwin: “Aren’t you going to help your partner out?”

 

King: “Why do I need to? I have the key (he holds it up to show Edwin) and now I have my closest friends back.”

 

King flings open the briefcase lid and pulls out a stack of vinyl records that he clutches lovingly to his chest like a newborn infant.

 

Axis: “Your Def Leppard collection! This was all over your Def Leppard collection?”

 

King: “ You try to find On Through the Night on vinyl these days and a 45 of “Photograph” will fetch 50 bucks easy on Ebay.”

 

Edwin: “So will a signed membership card to the Neil Sedaka fan club.”

 

Z writhes and wiggles in the ring as Frost clamps down harder on Z’s throat to knock him out.  His usual rage and fire might be muted, but the big man still has enough to put Z down.  His eyes flutter shut and Hardcastle takes the XF9 member’s limp right arm to gauge his unconsciousness.  He lifts it once and it falls.

 

King: “You have pandas, I have Def Leppard.”

 

Edwin: “Yeah, here’s a riddle for you: What has nine arms and sucks?”

 

King: “What?”

 

Edwin: “Def Leppard.”

 

King: “Why you…”

 

King slams his albums down on the commentator’s table and takes a wild swing at Edwin, who dodges back to miss it.  Edwin rips off his headset and slings himself over the table like Luke Duke sliding over the hood of the General Lee.  King hoists the briefcase high over his head for a weapon and chases Edwin into the ring.  The crowd is completely apeshit for now seeing Edwin step inside the squared circle after having already seen the Suicide King.  Hardcastle just finishes letting Z’s arm drop lifeless for a second time.

 

Axis: “This is crazy.  Z blackmailed King into being his partner by stealing his Def Leppard record collection and now King is chasing Edwin into the ring.  Sometimes I wonder what loony bin those two escaped from.”

 

King slides into the ring behind Edwin and leaps to his feet.  Edwin runs a wide circle around Frost and Z in the center of the ring while King pursues with the light, but sturdy briefcase ready to strike.  Sexton Hardcastle has Z’s arm up high in the air for one last attempt to see if he’s still conscious, when he glances over at King and Edwin racing each other in the ring.  He drops Z’s arm without noticing it drop down for the pass out submission to go chasing behind King.  Frost with a snort of anger from his nostrils drops Z to the mat like a sack of potatoes and steps out into the path of the crazy scene.

 

Axis: “I don’t know if I can watch the heinous doings about to unfold, although let me say it is nice to have the commentator’s position all to myself.”

 

Frost holds his arm our for a choke slam to catch Edwin, but he ducks under it and glides back to the floor.  Hardcastle cuts to the lower half of the ring to yell at Edwin to stay out.  King goes to strike just as Edwin dodged and he winds up clocking Frost right in the face with the case.  The fans “ooo” with sympathy and the cheap case busts into scraps of busted ply board and imitation leather.

 

Axis:  “King literally disintegrates that case on Frost’s head and he’s down for the count.  In the ensuing chaos, I think Sexton Hardcastle missed the shot as he was on the other side of the ring with all eyes on Edwin.  That blow meant for Edwin should be a disqualification, but now it might wind up garnering the win.”

 

Hardcastle pushes King to take his position back on the apron and Edwin stands on the floor watching.  Frost lays dead on the mat, covered in dust and debris.  Z lazily rolls over on his back to lay an arm over Frost’s chest even though he is still pretty much out of it from the Cobra Clutch.  Hardcastle turns to see it and dives to his knees to make the count as the fans help him out by calling the numbers with the slaps of his hand.

 

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

 

DING DING DING

 

Funyon: (from ringside) “Here are your winners.  The team of ZZZZZZ! (light pop from the crowd) and the SUICIDE…KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG! (mad pop from the crowd) with an assist from YOUR commissioner EDWIN…MAC…PHISTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” (insane Elvis has risen from the dead pop from the crowd)

 

Sexton Hardcastle shakes Z by his shoulders and slaps Frost lightly in the face trying to wake both men up.  He notices the debris in the ring and picks up a piece of the case’s square outer frame off of Frost’s chest.  Hardcastle scratches his head and stares at the chunk of wreckage totally clueless as to what happened.

 

Axis: “Despite the referee’s suspicions, his decision will most likely stand and once again Z’s almost abnormal luck snatches victory from the jaws of defeat.  Ah…without King and Edwin here I can use clichés and not get yelled at.”

 

The fans pump their fists in the air and chant “KING…EDWIN…KING…EDWIN…” King pimp struts down the ring apron while Edwin mimics his actions on the floor.  King leaps down and Edwin takes his arm to raise in victory.  The crowd roars with approval.  Edwin tilts his head over to speak to King and only a fly on their shirt collars could hear their conversation.

 

Edwin: “And they probably think we planned that.”

 

King: “Eh, let the humanoids think what they want.”

 

Edwin: “Sorry, I said Def Leppard sucks.  I don’t mind them actually.  How do you feel about Whitesnake?”

 

King: “They both suck and blow.”

 

Edwin: “Totally, couldn’t agree with you more, I’d rather listen to Winger.”

 

The King and the jester continue to bathe in the adulation of the audience as the camera fades to break.

[Guest crusen86]

“..Operators are standing by! You can purchase one of 29 tye-dye shirts that Longdogger Pete, SWF Wrestler, and JL Legend, has wrestled in! For the low price of 29.95 a month for three months.. you can own the stinky, smelly, sweaty, bloody shirt that made LDP an icon and hippie wannabe of the JL! Call in now!”

 

(Longdoggah is gonna kill me for that one. That’s okay though .. he deserved it. ;P)

 

As the commercial ends, there is one moment of black oblivion. Dead silence over the broadcast waves, as millions of watchers return from there excursions to their bathrooms and kitchens for a dump and a beer. And of course, those TWO people who are actually ordering the LDP tye-dye shirts.

 

(*sweet smile*)

 

With a flash of color, light and tons of tiny pixels that make up the television screen, the SJL show CRIMSON starts up again! The music is rockin’ and the camera is panning around in it’s usual fashion, pinpointing random fat guys in the audience jumping up and down, their DD’s doing the same thing along with them.

 

(Lovely picture no? Well, this IS the Hillshire Farms Smoked Sausage Arena! Is that even a real arena??)

 

Various signs are being swung around wildly in hopes that they can gain 15 seconds of fame. “Daybreak is Golden!” one sign says, with a picture of Sydney and the SJL World Title belt. Another says, “CUTTHROAT!” .. though the guy holding it is being razzed by people in the audience. He quickly puts the sign down, hiding it under his seat.

 

(It’s hard to be the lone Cutthroat fan in the whole place.)

 

The camera stops it’s panning quickly, and rests it’s focus on the announcer’s table, where the usual announcers, Axis, Edwin MacPhisto and Suicide King are poised.

 

(Ahem, excuse me.. I meant.. JL COMMISSIONER Edwin MacPhisto! Heh.)

 

“Welcome back to SJL Crimson! If you are just joining us .. well, you’ve missed a lot …” Axis says, and takes a breath to say one more thing, but is interrupted by King.

 

“… and you are also complete and total morons! Who the hell starts watching the show at the very last half hour! Hmm? Idiots! Imbeciles! Go to hell!”

 

Edwin blinks at King, “It hasn’t been THAT bad of a day.. here, want a Krispy Kreme? It’s just luscious …nice and gooey … and warm .. and moist and..”

 

Axis groans, remembering the whole pastry porn thing and hoping it doesn’t get mentioned again. King hmmphs at Edwin, waving him off and trying to ignore the disturbing way that Edwin works on getting all the creamy stuff out of the donut.

 

(Insert random bad images here. Heh.)

 

“Anyway… we’ve had an exciting show, and again, if you are just tuning in.. you’ve definitely missed some interesting things going on! But, coming up next, is our main event, and it’s sure to be a doozy! The new SJL World Champion, the vivacious Sydney Sky, going up against the illustrious Flexxx! It’s just a non-title match, but it’s sure to help our new champion prove herself worthy of the title that was given to her by Frost on Metal this week!” Axis inhales sharply, as he said that all in one breath. Edwin and King look on in amazement.

 

Suddenly, with the dimming of lights, “Bittersweet Symphony” by the Verve begins to play through the arena’s soundsystem (which, ironically, is all shaped like smoked sausage .. go figure.) .. and the crowd starts to cheer immediately! Funyon takes his trusty microphone and brings it to his lips, “The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Now coming to the ring .. hailing from Los Angeles, California, standing at 5’11” tall and weighing in at 170 lbs .. she is your SJL WORLD CHAMPION! SYYYYYYYDNEY SKYYYYYYYYY!”

 

The crowd pops madly, as the SJL World Champion, Sydney Sky appears on the stage. She is surrounded by a beautiful rainfall of white and purple sparks from her pyrotechnics, and she stands on the stage, waving at the crowd with one hand. The other hand holds the belt over her shoulder. It glitters in the stage lighting and in the sparks. She makes her way down the ramp, high-fiving random audience members, though her face holds an expression of intensity and determination.

 

“The lovely Sydney Sky looks poised like a champion as she makes her way down the ramp. I’m sure she has a bit of nervousness .. this is her first match as world champion and it’s obvious she’d like to make a good showing here tonight in the Bacon Arena.” Axis states, as he watches Sydney slide into the ring and hand off the belt to a random stage crew person to the side.

 

“You mean Smoked Sausage.”

 

Axis blinks, “What?”

 

Edwin kindly points out, “You said Bacon.. this is the Smoked Sausage Arena.”

 

“Bacon… smoked sausage… “ King starts laughing wildly. Axis just scoffs.

 

“Whatever.. I know it was some sort of breakfast food item.”

 

Sydney’s music fades away slowly, and she is poised in the middle of the ring, warming up and preparing for her opponents arrival. She stares straight up the ramp to the stage, waiting. Suddenly, a creepy voice starts murmuring over the sound system as “Born as Ghosts” by Rage Against the Machine” starts playing. The video of Flexxx’s Golden Gun plays on the SmarkTron screen. Flexxx appears on the stage, doing the Diamond Cutter taunt, causing an uproar in the audience.

 

“Now coming to the ring, hailing from Rochester, New York, standing at 6’3” and weighing 239 pounds … FLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXXX!”

 

The crowd makes another uproar, as Flexxx brings his hands down from the taunt, signaling a huge yellow stream of pyro to explode three times. From within the yellowed smoke that the explosions created, Flexxx appears and starts walking down the ramp. He ignores the ragin’ fans that are trying to get his attention and stays completely focused on the ring, and Sydney, ahead of him. He slides into the ring, and makes his rounds to each turnbuckle, holding up the split-finger victory sign the to crowd, who pops a bit. Sydney remains in the middle of the ring, watching, patiently … her face showing that she is a bit nervous.

 

“Sydney looks a bit nervous tonight .. maybe the pressure of being the World Champion I starting to get to her?” Axis asks. Edwin shrugs.

 

“More likely it’s the whole deal with one of the bigger heels in the JL being madly in love with her .. that’s bound to put anyone in a miff.”

 

King glances at Edwin, “A miff? What the hell is a miff?”

 

“You know .. being miffed. Pissed off. Angry.”

 

“MIFF? Miff is a GIRL word! No normal guy uses the word miffed! You Panda-lovin’, Krispy Kreme molesting freak!”

 

Edwin hmphs. Axis just snickers.The bell sounds, signaling the official start of the match. Sydney immediately stiffens up and starts to pace around, her eyes focused on Flexxx with some apprehension. Flexxx notes that, and tries to take advantage of that. He moves onto Sydney, trying to grab onto her! Sydney blinks and struggles to get out of his grip! He grabs her hair for leverage as he moves behind her, wrapping his big arms around her the small of her waist! Sydney flails an arm back and connects with his face! Flexxx roars and drops his grip around her for a moment, giving Sydney the opportunity to back away from that attempt. Flexxx looks at Sydney, appearing a bit peeved at that. Sydney spins around, her leg kicking high in the air … a spinning wheel kick, right to Flexxx’s chest! He groans, doubling over.

 

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn. Look at that flexibility….” Edwin blinks.

 

“No wonder Frost is in love .. look at the possibilities with that stretch…phew.” King even has to agree. Axis looks disgusted.

 

“You two are sick.”

 

Sydney then grabs Flexxx’s head as he is doubled over and pushes it down, jumping up and then coming down on his neck, shoulders and head with her luscious ass! Fame asser! Poor Flexxx is slammed face first into the ring floor! BOOM!

 

(Baby got back! Heh.)

 

“Oh! Fame Asser by the femme fatale a la champion! Flexxx doesn’t know what hit him .. which is sad because it was the very juicy ass of the fiery Sydney Sky!”

 

Sydney rolls Flexxx over, who seems slighty disoriented by the slamming of his face into the mat, and she goes for an early pin attempt! The referee runs over, dropping his coffee over the side as he wasn’t ready for a pin this early, and slides to his knees! He starts a count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Flexxx kicks out easily, pushing Sydney off of him with some force. She falls backwards onto her ass and then hops back to her feet, not wanting to be caught off guard against her opponent.

 

“Sydney goes for an early pin.. but it’s no good! Flexxx is far from tired out yet!”

 

Flexxx gets to his feet, and comes right after her, and she easily dodges him. She’s pretty quick on her feet. As Flexxx approaches her, she jumps up, hitting him with a swift dropkick! Both of them fall to the ring floor, though Sydney recovers faster, as Flexxx got the worse of that move, obviously.

 

“Oh! Nice dropkick by the champion. But I think it’s going to take a lot more than just a few dropkicks to take out Flexxx! I think Sydney has really met her match tonight!”

 

“But I thought her match was Frost?”

 

“No! You dumb ass .. her match, as in .. someone who can easily beat her!”

 

Sydney goes after Flexxx as he is still on the ground! She grabs onto his legs, attempting to twist his body into a human pretzel, a sharpshooter! She gets halfway into the move, but Flexxx manages to break from her hold, kicking at her, and causing her to fly into the ropes. She slumps there, dizzy from the kick!

 

“Uh oh! Flexxx is gaining the upperhand! Sydney is slumped against the ropes, looking slightly out of it and even tired! Maybe being the new champion is taking it’s toll on the riot grrl?”

 

Edwin notes, “Well, it’s a lot of pressure .. doubled by the fact that she is just the second woman to hold the honor .. and then the whole love thing with Frost. Poor girl is probably ready for a manicure, a pint of chocolate ice cream and some damn chick flick in her VCR!”

 

Flexxx grabs her hair, dragging her away from the ropes and throwing her down to the ground! He then starts to kick down on her in a sort of rage! Mudhole stomps (a la Austin) onto the midsection of the queen of the JL! Sydney tries to roll away from them, but they keep coming! Over and over he stomps on her! The crowd roaring, mostly booing at the way Flexxx is letting loose on Sydney!

 

“Damn! Flexxx looks absolutely pissed! He’s just stomping and stomping on her .. like there is a bug there that just won’t die no matter how much you squash it!” Axis yells out, it’s the first thing that comes to his mind and therefore the first thing that pops out of his mouth. Edwin glances over at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“.. are you calling her a bug?”

 

“Err.. no.. I didn’t it mean it like that.”

 

Edwin perks his other brow, “But you said she was a bug and you wanted her to die. That’s not a very nice thing to say. You are supposed to be the face announcer and here you are .. wanting something bad to happen to our new champion! What is the matter with you?”

 

Axis blinks, his eyes getting wide, “Wait a minute! Where the hell are you getting this shit! I was just making a metaphor! Jeezus!”

 

Edwin snickers, “I was just messing with you. It’s so damn fun! Want a Krispy Kreme?”

 

“You shithead.”

 

(Err..back to the actual match!

 

Meanwhile, Flexxx finally backs off from his stomping, leaving Sydney there, struggling to recover from the brutal attack! The crowd chants, trying to will Sydney to get to her feet! But Flexxx isn’t through yet, as he goes for the cover!

 

The referee appears out of nowhere, again unable to drink his second cup of coffee! He throws it over the side with an exasperated sigh and runs over to do the count.

 

From the audience, there is a scream, “Ahhhh! Hot coffee! I’ve been burned! I’ve been very badly burned!”

 

(Anyway…. I need some caffeine. Hmm .. do the Dew? Yes. Do the Dew! Not do the Drew. ;P)

 

The referee begins the count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Sydney pushes Flexxx off of her with a sudden surge of strength. He falls backwards a bit, but manages to not fall flat on his ass! Sydney gets to her feet and goes after Flexxx, with a new determination! She flies at him, jumping up, her feet and legs wrapping around his neck, and then flipping him down to the mat with a thud! A hurricanrana from the femme fatale! A signature move (see stats! from Sydney Sky!

 

“The HURRICANE from Sydney Sky! If there’s anything this girl knows how to do .. it’s bounce back…”

 

King laughs, “She knows how to bounce? Of course she does..she’s a girl! Look at her bounce right now!” he says, focusing in on the champions ample chest. Axis rolls his eyes.

 

“I was going to say…bounce back from adversity, you dumb ass.”

 

Edwin smirks, “Being the JL commissioner ..I say that she can both .. BOUNCE, and bounce back from adversity pretty damn well. Yes, indeed. Are you sure you guys don’t want a KRISPY KREME??”

 

“NO!!!” the collectively yell. Edwin blinks and shrugs, eating another.

 

Sydney gets up from the Hurricane and goes after Flexxx, grabbing onto his legs and starting to twist him around! She’s going for another sharpshooter attempt, as her first one was unsuccessful! She finally gets him twisted around and locks him into the move! Flexxx yells out, trying to get out of the move, but the determined Sydney Sky isn’t about to give up!

 

“Sydney Sky has Flexxx locked into the Sharpshooter! She attempted this earlier in the match and was unable to get him into it! But she’s got him now and it looks like she is in it for the long count.. she isn’t about to let him out of it … not by a long shot! Look at the determination in her face!”

 

King peers, “It looks as though she had a herring sandwich and she’s fucking constipated!”

 

(Inside joke.. I’m sure LDP and Mistress Sarah will laugh at that one.)

 

“You idiot! You aren’t the king! You are an idiot!”

 

Sydney holds the move and the referee is nearby, watching Flexxx carefully, to make sure he catches him tapping out if need be! Sydney groans, her muscles starting to tire out, but the chanting and cheering from the crowd giving her incentive to keep it going! Finally, Sydney can’t hold it anymore, and she drops Flexxx from her grasp and both of them fall to the mat, tired out from their respective parts in that move!

 

“Wow! Sydney held that for a long time! Both of them look absolutely tired out! They are both lying there! The referee is sure to count them both out for sure! Here it goes!”

 

ONE!

 

The referee watches how both of them are just lying there. Sydney is heaving great breaths, trying to get herself up so she can try and win this match! She slowly starts to push herself up..

 

TWO!

 

Flexxx rolls to his side, trying to catch his breath and also trying to ignore the burning of his muscles from that move.

 

THREE!

 

Sydney pushes herself up from the ground, around the same time Flexxx does the same. The count is broken and the referee moves back into his corner, pondering to try another coffee.

 

“They both get up, obviously determined to not just let this match end in a countout!”

 

Sydney suddenly lunges at Flexxx, tackling him back down and hooking up his leg and trying to pin him in this weakened state! The referee runs back over and slams his hands on the mat!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Flexxx just barely gets his shoulder up, on what seems to be a slightly faster count.

 

“That was a pretty fast count..maybe this referee is favoring the femme fatale, Sydney Sky, over Flexxx?”

 

“Or maybe he REALLY just wants to drink his damn coffee finally. Off in the distance, ambulance crews can be seen carrying off the poor badly burned dude that got it from the tossing of hot coffee. Sydney grunts, getting to her feet and then grabbing onto Flexxx’s head and bringing him to standing .. looking as though she is going to set up for a twist of fate, or also known as the Sky Swirl! But before she can, he elbows her in the face, mostly her eye, and she goes to put her hands there and he swings behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and she struggles against it though her face hurts like a bitch! He lifts her up and swings her over his head, into a German suplex! Sydney is slammed onto the mat, and the crowd ooohs!

 

“German suplex by Flexxx! That’s gotta hurt the femme fatale! She don’t look too good!” Axis says, pointing at the clearly disoriented Sydney Sky! Flexxx rolls Sydney to her back and climbs on top of her, going for a cover .. though it sort of looks kinda inappropriate from certain angles. Flexxx looks like he’s clearly enjoying this certain position!

 

“Look at that grin on Flexxx’s face! I bet you if Frost was out here .. he’d probably kick his ass for even getting that close to Sydney!”

 

The referee starts another count, wondering if this bloody match will ever end so he can finally have his fucking coffee! He slams his hands down to the mat!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE-Wait! Flexxx suddenly appears to fall off of Sydney and he looks shocked as he turns around and sees FROST standing to the side, a knowing smirk on his face!!

 

“Oh my god! It’s Frost! Where the hell did he come from!?” Axis yells out! The referee breaks the count, but didn’t see anything other than Flexxx slipping off Sydney and breaking the count! He waves his hands around, indicating the match is still good and still going!

 

Edwin blinks, “Not sure… is he just standing there?”

 

Suicide King smirks, “Me thinks Frost grabbed Flexxx’s foot and pulled him off his little girlfriend there. I swear, Sydney doesn’t realize how good she has it .. Frost could be an interesting ally in her career .. obviously, you can tell by the events of Metal and tonight!”

 

Edwin blinks, “I didn’t see Frost appear .. let alone interfere! And the referee didn’t seem to see anything either!”

 

Frost continues to stand to the side of the ring, intently watching Sydney, and the match at hand! Sydney sits up, and then gets to her feet, her eyes spying Frost there. There is an obvious reaction in her body, as her skin becomes flushed and she quickly adverts her eyes, just in time to see Flexxx coming at her with a clothesline! She ducks it and whirls around, as Flexxx runs into the ropes, and bounces off of them, coming back at Sydney, who this time ..is waiting for him and she meets him with a kick to the stomach! Flexxx doubles over, clutching at his stomach and gasping for breath!

 

“Sydney has knocked the wind out of him .. and isn’t is strange that she suddenly got this surge of energy as soon as Frost came out here?”

 

“Oh c’mon..you can’t be serious.. you know nothing will become of that whole thing.”

 

“I don’t know..it seems like Sydney isn’t being completely honest about it all..but then again, what do I know?” Edwin says, “.. I have more fun with Krispy Kremes than with women.. or even Pandas… so I’m really not the best person to be saying anything about that.”

 

Axis stares at Edwin, and so does King, “You are one disturbing individual … even more than King over there.”

 

“Thanks..” King says, then thinks about it, “Wait… I don’t know if I should be insulted or what!”

 

Sydney grabs Flexxx and connects another shot at his stomach, which causes him to falter and fall to the mat in a dramatic fashion! Sydney glances at Frost, who remains, faithfully, at the side of the ring .. and then she runs at the ropes! She jumps onto the second one and flips over, flying gracefully through the air and coming down onto Flexxx with a Lionsault!

 

“Fallen Star! Sydney pulls off another signature move on Flexxx! That had to hurt! That’s about three stomach shots that Flexxx has taken within the past 10 minutes or so!”

 

Sydney recovers from her own move enough to try another pin on Flexxx! She hooks up his leg and goes for it again! The referee, finally given up on his coffee, runs over and starts another count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Flexxx kicks out, and rolls to the side, still trying to catch his breath, and looks pretty slow about it! Sydney whirls around and looks right Frost .. giving him a look of, “What are you doing out here!?”

 

He just smiles at her, pointing at her, clearly stating that he’s there for her .. to support her in this match. Sydney looks confused yet again, and while she is distracted, Flexxx grabs her shoulder and whirls her around towards him! He grabs onto her and lifts her into the air, much to the dismay of Frost who remains at the sidelines! Flexxx then drops Sydney in a half-nelson suplex, right onto her head! She flips over and falls to the mat, looking motionless!

 

“A FLEXXXPLEX! He pulled off a Flexxxplex on Sydney Sky! This match could be nearly over! Sydney got dropped right onto her head! She could be out for the count after that move!”

 

“I need to pee..” Edwin states, matter of factly and excuses himself, disappearing from the announcer’s table!

 

(Sydney lies there, with cartoon birdies floating around her head… hee hee.)

 

Flexxx smirks over at Frost, and then goes for a cover! As the referee is running over to do another count, Frost puts his hand into the ring, and the referee trips over it! The referee tumbles to the mat, face first and is seemingly knocked out! And with the JL Commissioner conveniently emptying his bladder at the moment, Frost slides into the ring and grabs Flexxx! He pulls him off of Sydney! Flexxx looks shocked and looks for the referee, seeing him knocked out on the mat! Flexxx looks outraged, but Frost grabs onto him and brings him down with an Ice Shelf! Flexxx is slammed to the mat and lies there, groaning and arching his back .. because that had to hurt!

 

“The referee is out cold! And Frost is apparently trying to defend the woman he loves .. and help her out a bit here! And conveniently, the JL Commissioner is peeing in some arena urinal while this is happening! Now what is he going to do!?” Axis yells out, pointing at Frost. King shakes his head.

 

“Damn, love makes ya crazy… he’s an idiot! Sydney ain’t even worth it! Sure, she’s hot and all that .. but jeez!”

 

Frost moves over to Sydney, leaning over and kissing her on her lips lightly, and then moving her over to where Flexxx lies, putting her on top of him, for the cover! Frost then slips out of the ring, and nudges the referee as he does so! He then disappears into the crowd!

 

Edwin comes back from the bathroom, as the referee, after the nudging, notes the cover and starts a count!

 

“Did I miss anything?” Edwin asks.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Flexxx lifts his shoulder! The count is broken!

 

“It looks as though, despite all the help Sydney got .. Flexxx isn’t about to let that stop him from winning this match!”

 

Flexxx pushes Sydney off of him! Sydney, though only slightly aware of what was going on, starts to come out of her daze from the head shot and moves to the ropes, using them to get to her feet and gain her bearings once again! She gently touches her lips, obviously having some memory of the kiss from Frost, though it’s vague!

 

There is a thundering behind her, and she whirls around, seeing Flexxx come at her! She wraps her arms around the ropes and uses them to lean on, as she jumps up, and kicks him with her feet as he approaches! He stumbles back, grunting!

 

“That was pretty cool! An improvised move from Sydney! She’s a quick thinker, as well as being quick on her feet as well!”

 

“More like..quick with her feet… “

 

(Hee hee. I need more caffeine. And a shower. Damn. I hope Frost doesn’t mind his little part in this.. ;P)

 

Sydney moves from the ropes and goes to Flexxx, she grabs him by the head and sets about putting some boxing punches into his face! Punch! Punch! Punch! Flexxx’s head swings to the side with each hit! Sydney continues the punches and then twirls around, her hand wrapped around his head, and then falls to the mat! Twist of fate! Flexxx’s neck and head crack a bit, and he falls to the mat with a thud!

 

“The Sky Swirl! She pulled off the Sky Swirl! She’s nearly hitting all her signature moves tonight! It’s obvious she wants to show that she can be the champion on her own recourse!”

 

Sydney gets to her feet, and as Flexxx is lying there on the mat, she wipes her brow and flips over, falling down on him with a Senton Splash! Flexxx’s body flinches from it, and then Sydney goes for a pin! She hooks his leg, and then glances over at the referee! He rushes over and begins a count!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE—Wait! Flexxx’s foot is on the ropes and the referee sees it and stops the count! Sydney sighs in an exasperated tone and releases Flexxx’s leg and gets to her feet, grabbing his head and pulling him up with her!

 

“His foot was on the ropes! Poor Sydney looked as though she thought this match was finally over! Now what is she going to do to finally take Flexxx out!?”

 

Sydney takes Flexxx’s head and shoves it between her legs, and all the male compliment of the arena sit on the edges of their seats .. careful to not start playing with their own smoked sausages at that point!

 

(HA! .. eww.. I gross out myself sometimes…)

 

Sydney hooks her arms in his and looks up, signaling to the crowd that the Sky is about to fall! She jumps up with some extra oomph! She slams Flexxx down into the mat face first! A pedigree!

 

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD MOOOOOOOOOORNING!

 

“DAYBREAK! SYDNEY PULLS OFF HER FINISHER! GOOOOD MORNING!!” Axis yells out, he’s never able to contain his excitement!

 

Sydney finishes the move and rolls Flexxx over, merely draping herself over him in confidence that she’s got it won! The referee rushes over (hopefully for the last time! and starts the count!

 

ONE!

 

The crowd cheers!

 

TWO!

 

Sydney closes her eyes, as she is draped over Flexxx.

 

THREE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

The crowd goes wild and “Bittersweet Symphony” by the Verve starts to play again, signaling the victory of Sydney Sky! Sydney slowly stands, looking absolutely overcome with emotion! It becomes apparent, to most nearby, that she is crying!

 

“Sydney Sky has won it! And proven that she can indeed carry that belt with the satisfaction of knowing she deserves it!”

 

“Holy shit .. is she fucking crying?” King points out. Edwin and Axis look.

 

“Damn.. she is. What the hell?” Axis says. Edwin tries to be funny.

 

“There’s no crying! There’s no crying in wrestling!!”

 

King looks at Edwin, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a penis with a little hat on?”

 

Edwin just blinks.

 

“YOUR WINNER! SYYYYYYYYDNEY SKYYYYYYYY!” Funyon announces, as he returns the World Title belt back to the trembling and crying Sydney Sky. She takes the belt and quickly leaves the ring, sliding out underneath the bottom rope and nearly running up the ramp! She seems unable to control her emotions as she disappears backstage in tears! Funyon looks confused, as he was about to hold her hand up when she ran off!

 

Everyone else looks confused as well.

 

“What was that all about? I’ve never seen Sydney cry before .. but then again, she IS a girl.” King says, shrugging, “.. you know women and their damn hormones and shit.”

 

Axis smirks, “What, are you saying only women cry? C’mon.. I’ve seen YOU cry over silly shit before. Like that time I made fun of those pants you were ..the ones that made your ass look really big?”

 

King sniffles, “Shut up about that, you little crackwhore!”

 

Edwin ahems, “Well, both of you are idiots. It’s obvious that Sydney is just so damn happy to be the champ .. that she can barely contain herself! Or maybe it’s that Frost thing.. yeah, that could be a little bit of it.. but I think, as JL Commissioner..she is just so proud to be representing us!”

 

“Errr.. whatever.”

 

“That’s it for this edition of SJL Crimson! Hope you turn in next week for another exciting episode of as the Crimson turns! And don’t forget to tune into Metal as well.. check your local listings.. I think we’re on after Martha Stewart Living..”

 

Edwin laughs, “Now that’s good TV! Good bye for now! Krispy Kremes for everyone! My treat!”

 

Axis groans. And the show fades to black.

[Guest crusen86]

N00B DEBUT

Fugue vs. Cutthroat

WINNER: Fugue (Default)

 

NO-DQ MATCH FOR THE TELEVISION TITLE

"TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson © vs. "The Franchise" Mak Francis

WINNER: TNT (Default)

 

ELIMINATION MATCH FOR THE #1 CONTENDERSHIP TO THE EUROPEAN TITLE

Tod de Kindes vs. Insane Luchador vs. Poisyn

WINNER: Tod deKindes (Default)

 

VETERAN'S GRUDGE

NBK Josh Tupper vs. Mike Van Siclen

WINNER: No Contest

 

SUBMISSION MATCH

Ced Ordonez vs. "Deathwish" Danny Williams

WINNER: Danny Williams (Half of Ced's match cut off in the PM, but I didin't get it in time.)

 

MYSTERY PARTNER HANDICAP MATCH

Z & ? vs. Frost

WINNER: Read it. Close match.

 

NON-TITLE MATCH

Sydney Sky © vs. Flexxx

WINNER: Sydney Sky (Default)