SJL Wrath - Tuesday, July 2nd

July 3, 2002

A diagonal shot of the Canada Dome, in Canada City, Canada is show in preparation for SJL WRATH. The camera’s cut and pans about the audience picking up a few fan made signs like; “Canada hates Francis”, “He’s here and it’s clear that we’ll all cheer”, “Canadian Intelligence Agents + World Title = ratings”, “CIA IS GOD”, “You guys screwed Bret” and finally “This is the token X Force 9 sign” are shown while a lone Mak Francis fan is getting pummeled trying to hold up his “Only the BEST can be a FRANCHISE” sign.

FWOOSH!

PAPAPAPAPAPAPAP!

BAM! BAM!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Axis: “Hello and good day mates. WE ARE LIVE FROM THE SOLD OUT CANADA DOME, IN CANADA CITY, CANADA FOR SJL WRATH! I’m Axis and to my left and right respectively are the Mac Daddy himself and your S-W-F WORLD CHAMPEEN …Eddie MAC-Phis-TOOOO and Former SWF World Champion, “The King of Hearts”…The SUI-CIDE KINNNGGG!”

MacPhisto: “After last weeks SJL METAL television show, six of the Junior Leagues most talented wrestlers received the call up to the Smarks Wrestling Federation for our Snake Eyes Pay-per-view.”

Axis: “But a snafu has occurred, as SJL World Champion “Deathwish” Danny Williams was one of the six people to rise into the SWF. Now every active SJL wrestler shall receive a chance at the biggest prize in the game.”

King: “As far as they’re concerned anyways. This posed a problem for the league so I came up with a plan.”

Axis: “But we turned it down and went with Edwin’s.”

MacPhisto: “Yuppers. I thought up a doozy for shuzzie because as of today there will be an eight-bracket tournament. Go to the graphic.”

[Fade to Graphic]

SJL WORLD TITLE TOURNEY

Bracket 1 singles match

Jacob Helmsley v “The Rising Sun” Y2K

Bracket 2 singles match

Mike Van Siclen v Fugue

Bracket 3 singles match

Sydney Sky v Kojack

Bracket 4 singles match

Poisyn v CIA

Bracket 5 singles match

Silent v Cutthroat

Bracket 6 singles match

Venom v “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins

Bracket 7 singles match

Thor v T-Bone

Main Event - Bracket 8 non-title singles match

Renegade v “The Franchise” Mak Francis

[Fade out of Graphic]

Axis: “One of the few possible tournament favorites Jacob Helmsley, takes on the sWo’s “The Rising Sun” Y2K in the opening match and the first match back for Helmsley. Mike Van Siclen battles against the smiling sadist Fugue, in another vet versus rookie match-up.”

MacPhisto: “Another favorite Sydney Sky is placed against Kojack and in what could be a spectacular match sWo leader Poisyn is pitted against a rival of the sWo CIA! Those two will really go at it!”

King: “And if there were seeds returning clannie Silent would be one of them. Cutthroat who could finally make a good showing, not like it’ll happen though challenges him. Also Venom goes against “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins in the sixth bracket match.”

Axis: “The mammoth God of Thunder Thor takes the fight to T-Bone in the seven bracket and that match leads into tonight’s main event and final bracket, which contains the tournament favorite Renegade versus “The Franchise” Mak Francis.”

MacPhisto: “As King said there are no seedings’ and each competitor including the order of their brackets have been chosen at random. So these sixteen lucky wrestlers will each have a equal shot at the now vacant SJL World Title.”

King: “But one man has a better shot than anyone else. Don’t forget that on METAL a BRAND NEW SJL European Champion was crowned. He is one member of the elite sWo stable and the first person since current SWF double champion Stryke, that I can remember being a double Junior League Champ. That man is your Euro-Television champion “The Franchise” Mak Francis.”

Axis: “It’s very true that he is the hottest wrestler in the JL at this time but Francis has what may be considered the most difficult opening round tourney match-up as he goes against former SJL Grand Slam Champion Renegade. The Renegade Masta is fresh off a win over the “Riot grrl” that everyone gets high for, former SJL World Champion and another favorite in this tournament…Sydney Sky!”

King: “Curious how Mak has the most difficult opening match on the card, eh Edwin. But your not holding him down, oh no not at all!”

MacPhisto: “It was drawn at random Kingy and what about Renegade. The tourney favorite has to go up against a kid that has all the talent in the world, there’s no question about that but the prick’s attitude and the need of the sWo to try and run roughshod in my Fed is the main problem he has. Not the way I book matches, even though I once again state that the little bugger IS NOT BEING HELD DOWN. The mythical glass ceiling is just that, a myth! It’s just an excuse Wilson uses to keep his stable in line and against me!”

Axis: “Yes I agree wholeheartedly with you Edwin and Renegade must be the favorite to win this tournament and recapture his title after a leave of absence.”

King: “Ah, go lock yourself in a shed you Foster’s lovin’, a dingo ate my baby, Aussie!”

Axis: [highly agitated] “But first he must deal with Francis in his second match back. Like I said earlier Renegade shows no sign of ring rust and I think this will be a great main-“

Suddenly interrupting Axis the arena light turn off and “Down with the Sickness” plays on low in the background.

[Whispered] ‘Are you Ready?’….

Axis: “He’s not scheduled to be out here is he?”

King: “Mak can do whatever the hell he wants. His opinions matter unlike yours!”

Blue and White strobe lights flash as the Smarktron airs highlights of Mak Francis hitting the perfect kick on TNT. This is followed by a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis…

[semi loud] ‘Are you Ready?’….

And a clip of him planting Scott Reid with The Franchise Tag followed by the blue and white photonegative image again…

[screamed] ‘CAUSE THE FRANCHISE HERE!’

MacPhisto: “What in the bloody hell is he coming out here for?”

The Smarktron flashes the words 'The Franchise' as the lights partially come up. This allows the fans to see Mak Francis posed with his back to the crowd. Francis sticks his right arm out and the European Title can be seen dangling across his shoulder and bicep. His left arm replicates the action but the TV Title hangs about it. A defining boo breaks out as he spins around and raises both fists in the air, a superior smirk very evident. While strolling down to the ring he alternates kisses between his belts that really gets the crowd chanting “Green as grass” but he seems so happy that he won’t even acknowledge them. Francis smoothly enters through the middle ropes and spins in the center of the ring arm outstretched then he ends the pose by holding the belts in his hands and dropping to a knee executing a double bicep pose to the chagrin of the SJL fanatics on hand. He yells at Funyon to toss him a mic and motions for his music to be cut. Once he receives that he waits patiently for the crowd to quiet down.

Francis: “O’ Can-Na-DAH. It’s good to be in Canada eh folks, but it would be even better to get the hell out of this crap pot and back into the better U.S…hey U.S., that the same as us, which would really mean me because I’m damn sure better than all of you Canadian freaks. BWAHAAHAHAHA!”

The crowd boos as Francis circles the ring still laughing.

Francis: “I’m just here to tell you all about my magnificent European title victory and how I beat your countryman to become the first double champ since Stryke. I might just be the best the SJL has to offer. In fact I know I’m the best and I’ll prove it to you all later tonight. But there is a doubt in my head. There is one man that I don’t know if I can beat and that man is C…I…A.”

The crowd roars in approval at the mention of their countryman but is quickly cut off by Francis.

Francis: “Ah, who am I kidding? I made his ass tap like a keg of Molson’s, which is the worst beer ever by the way, at a frat party! After I get past the “Grand Slam” Champion Renegade, I’ll do what nobody in this business has ever even dreamed of…HOLDING ALL ACTIVE BELTS IN THE SJL! EVERY SINGLE ONE! ALL THREE!

The crowd boos relentlessly and Francis stands in the center of the ring basking in their obvious show of affection or lack there of for him. They finally quiet awaiting to boo what “the Franchise” says next.

King: “You tell the wannabe King of Hearts, Mak! Tell them that you’re almost as good as I am! But I mean nobody could be as great as I am. I am the Suicide King after all!”

Axis: “Yup you are a World Champion. Can I see the belt? Oh wait…that’s right…it’s the one that Edwin’s holding right now.”

King: “I guess you have a lot to be proud of. Being locked in sheds is all the rage in Australia now.”

King and even Edwin laugh as Axis silently fumes mumbling it was only one time.

Francis: “The only challenge I’d have is the man CIA takes on tonight…Poisyn. He’s the only person good enough in this fed to possibly beat me. I mean he is the leader of the sWo. The most dominate stable in the SJL.”

Axis: “This kids really asking for a ass whooping.”

Francis: “Clan member Silent will be the sWo’s whipping boy if he even makes it to the finals. Jacob Helmsley may think he’s good but he ain’t Franchise level. Bah, the femme fatal and former let me stress that former, SJL World Champ Sydney Sky? She and X Force 9 are as good as dead and I’d just put the last nail in the coffin. And Renegade…Renegade may be a “Grand Slam” Champion, oh scary, but in my mind he’s old news. A man trying to reclaim former glory but since he’s facing me those dreams will be thrown to the wayside. I’m this federations newest Franchise and I’ll prove it tonight!”

MacPhisto: “I can’t even believe he has the gall to mouth off like this to the wrestlers of the SJL. He actual is a wannabe Wilson. My only question is when’s he’s gonna start trying to blow up toy stores?”

Francis: “But my question is where do I put my new belt? Both of my arms are covered in gold. Should it be around my neck? Nah, I’ve got it! I’ll place the World Title around my waist, where it belonged in the first place! Now hit my music and move on with the tedious matches that will only lead to the inevitable…me as S-J-L World Champeen!”

Axis: “Strong words from the Franchise but will he be able to back them up later tonight.”

PFFFFFFFFTT!

Francis drops the mic and walks up the ramp to a torrent of boos and you suck chants as SJL Wrath goes to commercial break.

July 3, 2002

*~* Cameras show the sold out Canada Arena, as the dazzling display of Pyrotechnics light up the entire arena, as the Wrath theme blasts out of the PA system. In the background, over all of the noise and commotion in the arena; Axis, Edwin MacPhisto, and the Suicide King all begin their commentary that they are paid to do for every single show they are in. *~*

Axis: “Hello folks, and welcome back to another edition of SJL Wrath, coming to you LIVE from the sold out Canada Arena!”

King: “Does this place even exist?”

Edwin: “If not before, it does now!”

Axis: “Tonight is a very special night for the SJL… it is the beginning of a show-long single elimination tournament to crown a NEW SJL World Heavyweight Champion!”

Edwin: ‘This is going to be one hell of a tournament… Everyone in the SJL is participating in this thing, and will be one hell of a fight to the end for two people!”

*~* Brackets for the Tournament appear on the screen for the home viewers to see, showing all of the wrestlers involved, and what path they must go through to get to the SJL Championship Match. *~*

Axis: “Here is the way the tournament will be set up for those of you at home… two separate brackets of eight wrestlers, and the winners of those separate brackets face each other in the finals for the SJL Heavyweight Championship, in a stipulation yet to be announced!”

King: “Well, let’s get on to the first match of the tournament… the “Rising Dork,” uh… I mean “The Rising Sun” Y2K will go head to head with the returning “Psycho Mantis” himself, Jacob Helmsley!”

Axis: “Jacob seems to he heavily favored to win this bracket, along with fellow Veterans Sydney Sky, and Mike Van Slicen...”

*~* Just as Edwin is about to reply to Axis’ statement, “A little doubt goes a long way” By Reel Big Fish blasts out over the PA, as the crowd gives little to no reaction to the newbie in the SJL. Quickly, Y2K slides into the ring, with a bit of concern on his face, because of the man that he has to face next. *~*

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen… the following match is scheduled for one fall, and is the first match of the SJL Heavyweight Championship Tournament! Now coming to the ring… He stands at six feet four inches, and weighs in at one hundred and eighty pounds… from Cheshire, Connecticut; he is the “Rising Sun” Y 2 K!!!”

*~* As the announcement of himself ends, Y2K raises his arms in a slight taunt, while still supporting the fearsome look in his eyes, as his music cuts off, and “Meaning of Life” by Disturbed begins. The entire arena explodes into a deafening shrill of cheers, as the hometown kid, Jacob Helmsley steps out onto the ramp. With green pyrotechnics going off all around him on the stage, Jacob and his Manager, Fred Hallbrook begin to make their way down the ramp, as in the ring, Y2K stares at the duo with a feeling of dread running down his spine. As Jacob walks slowly down the ramp, never taking his eyes off of the petrified newbie in the ring, Funyon begins his announcement, getting his voice over the enormous crowd cheers and the booming music. *~*

Funyon: “Now coming to the ring… he stands at Six feet six inches tall, and weighs in at two hundred and twenty-seven pounds… from Calgary, Alberta, Canada… he is the “Psycho Mantis”… JAAACOB HELLLMSLEY!!!!”

*~* Jacob finally reaches the ring apron as Funyon gets done with his announcement. From behind Jacob, Fred Hallbrook takes a hold of Jacob’s Trench Coat and removes it from his back, as Jacob climbs up onto the ring apron, and into the ring, as Y2K looks as firm as he can. Funyon quickly scurries out of the ring, as the lights in the arena come back up to normal, showing Jacob Helmsley and Y2K standing across the ring from each other, and referee Sexton Hardcastle in the middle of the ring, trying to get the pipe off from Jacob’s belt and out of the ring. *~*

Axis: “Jacob needs to get that pipe out of the ring… he will most definitely use it to his advantage on poor Y2K…”

Edwin: “He does and I’ll see to it that he never sets foot in an SJL or SWF ring ever again…”

*~* Finally, after what seems like forever, Jacob pulls the pipe out of it’s holster, and hands it to his Manager, Fred at ringside. Fred puts it down next to the turnbuckle pole, and walks away from it, as in the ring, Sexton rings the bell, starting the match. At that first tone of the bell, much to the surprise of the entire arena, including Jacob himself, Y2K immediately rushes at Jacob, and takes him off of his feet and back-first on the mat, as Y2K begins to flail away at the midsection of Jacob with a ferocity that no one expected out of the youngster. With every blow to the chest that Jacob receives, he grimaces in pain as above the duo, Sexton frantically tries to peel Y2K off of his enemy. *~*

Axis: “Wow! What got into Y2K there? He’s going after Jacob like a rabid dog!”

King: “He caught Jacob off balance! No Fair! He wasn’t ready!”

*~* Y2K finally gets off of the surprised Jacob Helmsley, as he looks up into the rage-filled eyes of the before timid newbie. Jacob gets up to his feet, as Sexton releases Y2K. Almost immediately, Y2K rushes at Jacob once again, but this time the Psycho Mantis is ready. Jacob lifts his leg up, and once Y2K’s head hits his thigh, Jacob wraps his leg around his neck, and drops him down to the mat forcefully. Jacob then grabs a hold of his own ankle, and pulls it up as Y2K screams in pain from the “Blackout”. *~*

Axis: “It’s the blackout! Jacob’s got that agonizing move locked in!”

King: “That is one tough move to get out of… and it isn’t a choke hold either, so it’s all legal!”

Edwin: “It should be a choke hold…”

King: “Oh pish-posh…”

*~* Frantically, Y2K flings his free-moving body parts (Arms and legs for those sick freaks that are wondering) in a desperate attempt to grab a hold of the ropes. Finally, Y2K reaches a rope and latches on, prompting Sexton to break the hold that Jacob has on Y2K. After a count of four from the referee, Jacob lets go of Y2K’s neck, and lets him move out of the ring, as he gasps for air. Meanwhile, behind Y2K’s back, Fred Hallbrook, Jacob’s Manager, is positioning himself by the turnbuckle post about fifteen feet from the gasping Y2K. Jacob gets up to his feet, and draws the referee’s attention away from ringside as down on the floor Fred Hallbrook floors his way to Y2K, leveling the smaller man with a monstrous clothesline. Y2K falls violently onto his face with a deafening SPLAT at Hallbrook slinks his way out of the picture while in the ring, Sexton looks down at the wreckage that is Y2K at ringside. *~*

Axis: “What was that! That was bull!”

Edwin: “I knew that this was going to happen… that fag Hallbrook is making a mockery of this match… I’ve got to stop this!”

*~* With that, Edwin removes his headset and immediately storms his way towards Fred Hallbrook, as the crowds begin to cheer their heads off for the charismatic leader of the Smarks Junior League. When he is within distance, Edwin screams something at Fred Hallbrook while pointing his finger up the entrance ramp. In his rage, Fred gets up into the face of Edwin, as the SWF World Champion stands his ground, firmly staring into the eyes of the businessman, never backing up a single step. *~*

Axis: “Edwin is in a real precarious position here… Hallbrook could take his head off at any moment…”

King: “Yeah… we always knew that MacPhisto was not right in the head… but damn… this is a new low for him.”

*~* Finally, after Jacob says something to Fred, He snuffs in the face of Edwin, and reluctantly turns around and heads up the ramp, as Edwin stares down the back of his head with the entire Canadian crowd behind him. *~*

Axis: “Wow… I can’t believe that Fred would give up so quickly…”

King: “Yeah… I know… I wanted to see Edwin get knocked onto his ass too…”

Axis: “That’s not what I mean…”

King: “Sure it is…”

*~* Looking up at Jacob, and telling him to watch it, Edwin makes his way back to the ring announcer’s table, as the entire crowd explodes in chants of “Edwin!” Edwin sits back down at the announce table, as the action continues in the ring. Jacob looks back at Y2K, who is just now sliding back into the ring from that monstrous clothesline to the back from the oversized mammoth that was just sent to the back. *~*

Edwin: “Enough was enough. That big ape had to go, and let Jacob do his own work.”

King: “SO you’re saying that Jacob can hold his own in any situation without the help of Fred?”

Edwin: “I guess we’ll just have to see about that now, won’t we?”

Axis: “There is no doubt in my mind that Jacob can kick his own ass… without that oversized jackass hanging around…”

*~* Meanwhile in the ring, Y2K struggles to get to his feet after all of the impact that has been made on him. Once he gets inside the ring, and up to his knees, Jacob walks over, and begins to stalk the smaller and broken man, arrogantly kicking at the midsection of the Rising Sun. After letting it go for a few seconds, Sexton gets in the middle of the action, and forces Jacob to back off a bit, letting Y2K get to his feet. *~*

King: “What the hell is Sexton Asscastle doing?!”

Edwin: “Enforcing the rules, King.”

King: “Rules? What are those?”

Axis: “You know… that sheet of paper you like to crumple up and shove up your ass…”

King: “Oh yeah… HEY!!!”

*~* As soon as Y2K gets up to his feet, Jacob Helmsley pushes Sexton out of the way, and begins to go after the Rising Sun once again. Jacob grabs a hold of Y2K’s arm, and throws him into the ropes. With an incredible force, Y2K bounces off of the ropes, and comes running back to Jacob, who immediately hits a Falling Neckbreaker on him. Jacob then rolls over onto the fallen man for the pin. *~*

One! Two! No! Y2K kicks out of the pin, to a small pop from the crowd.

Axis: “He kicked out!”

Edwin: “Man… Y2K is taking a lot of punishment in this match…”

King: “Yeah, and he hasn’t even met the full brunt of it either…”

Edwin: “That’s the scary part…”

*~* Y2K rolls over onto his stomach, as Jacob looks up at the referee with a bit of disgust. Y2K rolls over to the ring corner, and begins to prop himself up in the turnbuckle. Jacob looks over at the prone man, and grows a look of anticipation, as he gets himself into position for something big, glaring readily at the targeted Y2K in the corner. *~*

Edwin: “Oh no… this doesn’t look good for Y2K…”

King: “This is going to be big…”

*~* Y2K finally props himself up in the turnbuckle, as Jacob rushes the prone man. In a flash, Y2K ducks out of the way of the oncoming train that is Jacob, causing the Psycho Mantis to ram shoulder first into the metal backing of the turnbuckle pole. With a resounding Groan of pain from the crowd, Jacob falls down onto the mat clutching his shoulder in pain. *~*

Axis: “That didn’t go as planned for Jacob!”

King: “No… you think?!”

*~* With Y2K reversing the stalking roles, Jacob Helmsley pulls himself to his feet in the corner, as Y2K breaks out a look of revenge on his face, as his eyes cut a hole into the struggling Psycho Mantis. *~*

Axis: “Man… Y2K looks ready to commit murder…”

Edwin: “Not in my ring he isn’t…”

*~* As soon as Jacob reaches his feet, Y2K grabs a hold of Jacob’s arms, and wraps them around in back, and gets into position to hit his finisher, “Enter the Dragon”. But just before Y2K can hit the move, Jacob goes back into the offensive side of himself. Jacob immediately throws his knee up into the lower extremities of Y2K, causing him to break the hold, and yelp in pain as he grabs a hold of his groin from the impact. Immediately, Jacob puts Y2K into a powerbomb position, and lifts him up, but lets him drape in front of his chest precariously, as Y2K screams at Jacob to let him go. *~*

Edwin: “Y2K is pleading for his life… how pathetic…”

Axis: “Man… he won’t last long if this keeps up like this…”

King: “Well, Jacob’s about to up the Rising Sun into his grave here pretty quick…”

*~* With a demonic look in his eyes, Jacob drops to his knees, dropping the pone Y2K straight down upon his neck, silencing the Rising Sun. Jacob just drops the poor man’s feet to the floor, as the entire pro-Canadian crowd explodes into cheers for their countrymen. Jacob merely places both of his palms onto the chest of Y2K, as the ref drops down for the academic three count. *~*

One! Two! Three!

*~*Jacob gets up from the floor, and spits down at the unconscious form of Y2K, as the referee calls for the bell, and signals up the ramp for the EMTs to come down and help the man. From the back, Fred Hallbrook also comes down to the ring to congratulate his client, as he grabs a mic, and addresses the booming crowd, cutting off Funyon’s statement of the winner. *~*

Fred: “Well, well, well… the VICTOR… and soon to be… SJL WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… your very own… Psycho Mantis… JACOOOOOOB HELLLLLMSLEY!!!”

*~* Fred gets into the ring, as EMTs and the referee drag the completely unconscious Y2K out of the ring, and onto a stretcher. *~*

Fred: “My Client… your hometown boy… is one step closer to bringing the SJL World Championship back home where it belongs…”

*~* The crowds cheer in anticipation of Fred calling out Canada’s name. *~*

Fred: “Around MY waist.”

*~* Cheers turn into boos, as the crowds reject what Fred has to say. Astonishingly enough, Jacob looks over at his manager in amazement, and just stares at him, while he makes his exit out of the ring, and onto the floor. *~*

Axis: “Around HIS waist… what kind of arrogant bitch IS that Hallbrook?”

King: “One of a kind…”

Edwin: “Well, Jacob Helmsley wins this match in scientific fashion… defeating “The Rising Sun” Y2K to advance in this single elimination tournament!”

Axis: “With that note, we will be right back with more exiting SJL Tournament action, after these messages!”

*~*With that final statement, the camera fades out to show Jacob Helmsley with a bewildered look on his face, following his manager up the ramp. *~*

July 3, 2002

Matthew Kivell paces, manning the gorilla position like any good gorilla should. He checks his watch for about the nineteenth time that evening, looking behind him, into the locker-room hallway.

Dammit, where is he...

Kivell looks to the left of him... Fugue stands, flexing his muscles, putting on the baby oil to shine himself up nice for the camera. But Fugue's opponent for the night, Mike Van Siclen... he's not there. Kivell paces some more, looking both ways, trying to see if Mike's coming... nope. Kivell lowers the microphone on his headset to his lips and speaks.

"(Kivell) Hey, Edwin, has Mike called you yet?"

Switch to a view of the announcer's table, where 16000 screaming fans are roaring and Edwin can barely hear the voice in his headset. He presses a button on the ear and talks into the microphone, directly to Kivell.

"(Edwin) No, he hasn't. Why, isn't he in the back?"

Kivell looks nervous.

"(Kivell) Um, no sir, I haven't seen him."

Back to the commentary table. Axis and Suicide King are having a rousing game of thumb wrestling ("Two out of three fall!" cries King), which leaves Edwin to be only distracted by the overlarge woman behind him.

She isn't doing a very good job of that.

"(Edwin) Well, call him."

"(Kivell) We're not sure of his cell phone number..."

Edwin looks dumbfounded at the announce table. Somehow, he manages to utter...

"(Edwin) Well, why don't you ask someone?"

Kivell looks like a moron.

"(Kivell) Yes sir, right on it."

Kivell turns to the group of wrestlers standing before him. Cutthroat, Hollywood Spike Jenkins, Poisyn, CIA, Fugue...

"(Kivell) Matt..."

"(Poisyn) Poisyn."

"(Kivell) Poisyn, sure, whatever... can you give me Mike's cell phone number?"

"(Poisyn) Sure thing. It is... lemme see... 603-444-6477."

"(Kivell) Thanks."

Kivell whips out a cellular phone, dialing in the numbers and holding it up to his ear.

"(Mike) Hey yo man, wassup?"

"(Kivell) Not a lot, why aren't..."

"(Mike) Hey, can I call you back? I've got some free nights or some such bullshit."

"(Kivell) Uh, yeah, okay."

Click. Ring.

"(Kivell) Hello?"

"(Mike) Hey man, what's up?"

"(Kivell) Why the hell aren't you at the arena?"

"(Mike) Uh, because I got into traffic. Bad traffic."

"(Kivell) Mike, you've gotten hit by a bus, into a fender bender, and into traffic for the last three shows. You know this is bullshit as much as I do."

"(Mike) Yeah, but hey, I'll be there in time."

"(Kivell) You bet-"

"(Mike) Look, I'm already there! I'll talk to you inside."

"(Kivell) Argh, fine..."

"(Mike) Seeya there."

"(Kivell) Y-" Click. Damn, Mike likes cutting people off.

Mike gets out of his car, casually walking into the arena. He jogs through the hallways, entering the backstage area. He looks at Kivell with a smile. Kivell responds by tapping his watch.

"(Kivell) You're on in two minutes."

"(Mike) But I don't even have my gear on!"

"(Kivell) Quit bitching. You should've been here earlier."

"(Mike) I told you, man, I got into..."

"(Kivell) Cut the bullshit. You were late for the third show in a row, and it's about time you were punished for it."

Mike shoots Kivell a long smile.

"(Mike) Yeah, and what the hell are you going to do about it, you punk-ass, powerless jobber?"

"(Kivell) Well, let's see." Kivell lowers his microphone. "Edwin, Mike's here."

"(Edwin) Good."

"(Kivell) Mr. MacPhisto, with all due respect, this is Mike's third time in a row being late, and I think we should suspend him."

"(Mike) Hey!"

"(Edwin) That's a smashing idea, Kivell. I really should let you win once."

"(Mike, muttering) No you shouldn't..."

"(Edwin) Anyway... hmm... yeah, let's give Mikey a little break off."

"(Mike) WHAT THE HELL, EDWIN!"

"(Edwin) Michael? Is that you?"

"(Mike) Yeah, it's me, and I'm pissed off you're suspending me."

"(Edwin) Yeah, well, you've got two weeks to get unpissed off. Now, go get your sh- stuff on, and get ready to wrestle tonight."

"(Mike) I'm winning, right?"

"(Edwin) Uh... yeah, sure, whatever. Just get your stuff on."

Mike pumps his fist.

"(Mike) Will do, Mr. MacPhisto!"

Mike goes on his merry way to the locker room. Kivell does not look pleased.

"(Kivell) Eddie, are you sure you want Mike to win?"

"(Edwin) I don't care if he wins or not. I just want Fugue to teach him a lesson."

"(Kivell, after a sigh) All right. How long until their match starts?"

"(Edwin) Three minutes."

"(Kivell) All right, I'll make sure they're ready."

"(Edwin) Good man. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go play special ref between Axis and Kingy. No, no, no, it's a five count, not a three count!"

And as Kivell goes back to manning the gorilla position, we go back to doing what we do best.

...fader...

July 3, 2002

Axis smiles into the camera. "Welcome back to SJL Wrath, from the Canada Dome in Canada City, Canada!"

"And may I say it's great to be here in Canada!" Edwin says cheerfully. "And I'd like to thank all the awesome fans of Canada for welcoming us to Canada, and making our stay in Canada such a Canada delight!"

The Suicide King rolls his eyes. "Trust you to suck up to the Canada fans here in Canada."

"Well, I just want the people of Canada to enjoy the Canada performance we Canada tonight Canada Canada," Edwin replies.

Axis opens his mouth, but can't seem to find anything to say.

Then the arena darkens as the lights go out. The familiar organ riffs of Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D minor" start up, flashing strobes heralding the appearance of a ragged figure at the top of the ramp. Sight returns and the crowd breaks into cheers at the sight of Fugue, smiling as he walks to the ring; a white maple leaf visible on his usual black tank top.

Edwin snickers. "Well, I guess I'm not the only one who enjoys sucking up...eh?"

The King rolls his eyes. Axis puts his face in his hands.

"This contest is scheduled for ONE fall," Funyon booms. "Please welcome, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania--"

"WHERE?!?" the crowd yells.

Funyon blinks, then shuffles through his index cards. "...USA," he adds. The fans cheer. "...please welcome, FUGUE!" Fugue leans over the ropes and smiles at the crowd, whose cheers redouble.

"Light me up..."

The pumping beats of "Light Me Up" by Cassanova 419 begin to echo throughout the arena as the lights vanish once again. The crowd roars in expectation, their cheers at the novelty quickly turning to boos as they realize who is approaching.

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

BOOM!

A shower of white pyro goes off atop the entrance ramp to reveal a figure atop the entrance ramp, arms outstretched in an arrogant pose. A blue spotlight illuminates him as he struts toward the ring, blonde hair glistening as he slides under the ropes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the nervous Funyon continues, "now entering the ring, hailing from Harrison, Illinois, uh, USA, weighing in at two-hundred thirty-seven pounds...the Amazin' one, MIIIIIIKKE VA-AN SIIIIIIIIIIIC-LEEEEEEEN!"

The crowd explodes in a mixture of cheers and boos as MVS poses on a turnbuckle. He then hops backwards, facing his smiling opponent with a raised eyebrow.

"MVS looks great as always!" the King notes.

"And it looks like we're just about ready to start!" Axis says.

DINGINGING!

"You're really on the ball, Axis," the King adds. "Glad you're keeping on top of things."

The two competitors eye each other. Mike Van Siclen grins as he surveys the unkempt Fugue. Fugue, in return, simply smiles. MVS begins to advance on his opponent, who shifts his stance subtly--then they lock up. A cheer is heard from the crowd as the two men fight for supremacy--then MVS gets his arm around Fugue's neck, smirking at the audience. Fugue struggles and pushes his opponent across the ring to the ropes, then leaps into the air and meets the returning Siclen's face with his own feet. Siclen hits the mat and Fugue leaps up again in a flip--but MVS rolls out of the way, and Fugue collapses on the canvas. Siclen returns to hook his opponent's leg, Kivell slides down to count--One, Two and Fugue kicks out.

"Both of these fine wrestlers look to be on their best game tonight!" Axis says.

"MVS is definitely looking good," the King notes. "Most guys wouldn't recover quickly enough to dodge that senton."

Siclen stands and grins at his opponent. Fugue slips away, regarding MVS with a thoughtful smile. Then the two close in again--Fugue ducks a punch and grabs Siclen's leg to pull him down to the mat. The musician quickly wraps his legs around Siclen's knee to the delight of the crowd, but the Amazin' One scrambles forward and grabs the bottom rope. Fugue keeps the hold torqued in until Kivell gets to three, then he releases the leg and scurries backward. MVS gets to his feet and lunges for the musician's neck but Fugue grabs his head, then swings Siclen up onto his shoulders, sitting down and driving his back to the mat.

"A beautiful sit-out powerbomb by Fugue," Axis says. "It seemed like things were close, but now Fugue has the Amazin' One off his game."

"Who would've thought being a musician was such good exercise?" the King muses.

"Hey, I'm in such great shape 'cause I play the flute," Edwin puts in.

"Of course you do," the King replies.

Fugue quickly runs to the opposite ropes, bouncing off them. MVS stands quickly, but can't dodge Fugue's flying shoulder tackle. As Siclen goes down Fugue springs to his feet and jumps backward, turning a flip and landing stomach-first on his opponent. Kivell slides down to count, One, Two and Siclen pushes Fugue off. He gets his feet under him and grabs Fugue's neck, spinning them both around and pulling Fugue to the mat. He goes for a cover but Fugue grabs his extended left arm, sitting on MVS' back and pulling the arm upward.

"MVS, as always, goes for the head and neck area with that swinging neckbreaker," Axis comments. "But Fugue is still full of fire, and locks in that Fujiwara armbar!"

"Are you sure that's a Fujiwara armbar?" Edwin asks. "I thought you had to be sitting more to the side--"

"Oh, shut up, Edwin!" Axis snaps. Edwin and the King exchange bewildered looks.

After several agonizing moments Siclen manages to turn under his tormentor and slip out of the hold. He stumbles to his feet and aims a punch at his opponent, but Fugue ducks and grabs Siclen around the waist, hoisting him upward and backward, slamming him down onto his back. Fugue's body arches up in a bridge and Kivell slaps the mat, Once and then Siclen kicks out. Fugue gets his feet under him and jumps up, then comes down knee-first on Siclen's left shoulder. The Amazin' One rolls onto his stomach, holding his shoulder and grimacing, and Fugue quickly grabs for the arm again. But this time Siclen slips out of Fugue's grip and springs to his feet, aiming kicks at his opponent's stomach. Fugue tries to get to his feet and MVS grabs him by the neck, hoisting him up off his feet. An intense wave of derision builds from the crowd as MVS holds the struggling Fugue in the air and then sits down, pulling Fugue's jaw against his own skull. Fugue staggers and flops to the mat, and MVS grabs his legs and viciously yanks them apart.

"We've seen this before!" Axis cries. "MVS takes control with the jawbreaker and wishbone, cutting off Fugue's assault on his arm!"

"That was pretty amazing, holding Fugue up in the air like that," the King adds. "But then, he IS the Amazin' One!"

Siclen hauls Fugue to his feet and grabs him by the head, falling backwards and hauling Fugue's head inexorably to the mat. Fugue staggers up again and stumbles away, his grin seeming glazed, but MVS lunges forward to turn Fugue around and then tangle his legs in his opponents, sending Fugue face-first to the mat as he spins his body. Siclen grabs for the leg but Fugue kicks at his head, then slithers under MVS. Picking his opponent up on his shoulders, Fugue gets to his feet, turning to display his catch to the cheering crowd. He then takes two steps forward and launches himself in a somersault, sending both men crashing to the mat on their backs. Fugue fumbles to catch MVS' leg as Kivell gets into position, One, Two and Siclen kicks out, then stands up to simply kick his opponent.

"Fugue looks to be in trouble here," Axis comments. "He got that one move, but Siclen isn't slowing down his assault with that Impact DDT."

MVS grabs Fugue around the neck--pausing to look expectantly at the jeering crowd, then coming around and slamming Fugue's face into the mat by his hair. He stands, smirking at the fans, then looks down and stares in surprise as Fugue staggers to his feet, still grinning. MVS kicks Fugue's leg out (wait for it...from his leg) and climbs the turnbuckle to the second rope. He then launches himself down with a legdrop onto the head of Fugue, who twitches spasmodically. Kivell once again positions himself to count, One, Two and Fugue kicks out again.

"Incredible!" Axis marks. "MVS hit Code Red and Guillotine legdrop!"

"The Van Siclen Guillotine!" Edwin corrects.

The Suicide King looks into the camera and rolls his eyes.

MVS kicks at his opponent in frustration, then turns to climb the turnbuckle. He crouches in wait as Fugue staggers to his feet, the crowd roaring in anticipation, and then he LEAPS--flying past his target as Fugue spins to the side. MVS gets to his feet, shaking his head in surprise as much as pain, then turns to meet a European uppercut from Fugue. The crowd goes wild as Fugue lashes out with a leg sweep, sending the Amazin' One to the mat again. Fugue then hops up the turnbuckle, turning to watch as MVS stands, then leaping forward to drive his feet into MVS' shoulder.

"What a missile dropkick!" Axis yells over the noise of the fans. "Fugue dodges the spear and may be in control of this match again! His speed and resistance to pain are finally paying dividends in this match!"

Fugue kicks Siclen's leg as his opponent tries to get up, then grabs MVS' head and leaps over in a somersault, yanking Siclen's head down. Siclen shakes his head, grunting, trying to get to his feet to grab Fugue again, but the musician spins and slams his arm into MVS' shoulder, sending him down again. Another kneedrop and Siclen is writhing in pain, and Fugue quickly hooks both his opponent's arms in a full nelson, somersaulting forward into a bridge.

"The Major Chord!" Axis yells. "MVS's arms can't be in good shape now!"

Siclen squirms around under his opponent and extends his foot to reach the ropes. Mike Kivell pulls at Fugue and gets him to release the hold. Fugue staggers to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear it. MVS stands, staring murder at his opponent, then runs forward with a punch to Fugue's back. He spins the musician around and grabs his head, turning to pull him down--but Fugue aim a punch to MVS' lower back, then reaches down to grab Siclen around the waist. Fugue hauls his opponent up onto his shoulder, holding MVS' arms out in a crucifix--then pulls him over and slams him down on the mat.

"Iconoclasm!" Axis yells. "MVS couldn't get his shoulder jawbreaker, and Fugue countered into the Iconoclasm!"

Kivell slides down to count, One, Two and MVS won't stay down. He gets to his feet and whips Fugue into the ropes--the crowd gets to its feet, filling the arena with noise. MVS ducks and launches Fugue into the air--but misses his legs, and Fugue falls down MVS' back, grabbing him and flipping him down as well. MVS staggers up before Kivell can count, but Fugue punches him in the shoulder, spinning him around--he hooks MVS' arms and jumps backward, driving him down to the mat. And then Fugue flips forward into a bridge and MVS is folded up completely.

"Harmony!" Axis yells. "MVS misses the Van Slaminator, and Fugue hits the Coda and Harmony! This one's gotta be over!"

Kivell peers under Fugue to check on MVS, then signals to the timekeeper.

DINGINGING!

Funyon quickly slips into the ring. "Your winner," he booms, "by submission...FUGUE!" Fugue releases Kivell and slides away, grinning dazedly at the cheering crowds.

"What an incredible match!" Axis cries. "Wow, I just want to go over that again--"

"We can't," Edwin says. "We're out of time, we gotta go to commercial."

Axis blinks. "What?" he asks. "You mean right--"

Fade out.

July 3, 2002

The commercial fades away, promising the next 100 callers a special bonus item, and once more it’s time for the best wrestling action television as SJL Wrath is once again on the air. The shot shows the exterior of the Canada dome, surrounded by lush foliage beautiful walkways, and, most importantly of all, the ‘SOLD OUT’ signs at all the ticket booths. The camera cuts inside, and the Canadian fans are on their feet. The view changes once again, bringing us to the announce table, and the terrible trio. Axis and King seem to be no different from usual, but Edwin seems to have acquired a small army of miniature Canadian flags, which he is waving about frantically. Anyone versed in Semaphore would catch the message ‘Welcome back to SJL Wrath!’ After a few moments of waiting, King turns to Axis. “Well? Say it!” Looking confused, the Australian turns to Edwin. “I thought you said you wanted to….”

“I did. You just didn’t know how I was gonna say it.” Edwin smiles smugly as Axis begins. “Fans, welcome back to…”

“SAID IT!”

Axis and King stare at Edwin for a moment, King recovering first. “This is the part where Axis usually mentions that we’ve just seen a great matchup, which is wrong, that the show is great, which could NEVER be right here in… ugh… Canada. And then tells you the next match will be great. Which is right, cause Poisyn’s gonna win it and show that facing off against the sWo is the dumbest thing to be done in today’s SJL.”

Edwin begins waving his tiny flags about, and is right in the middle of a horribly rude and physically impossible suggestion to what King can do with himself, when Axis gets annoyed at the flags whish-ing by his ear, and smacks them out of Edwin’s hands. “Stop it. Folks, Suicide King is apparently back on the sauce. Sydney Sky and Kojack had a HELL of a match, just now, on a night of celebration. A slightly late Canada day celebration, the 135th birthday of this wonderful, beautiful country. And tonight, CANADA is the land of opportunity, as members of the JL roster have a SHOT, at the undisputed right to call themselves world champ. Men like Mak Francis, who holds both of the other belts in the JL, CIA, an unproven commodity looking to break out, Sydney Sky, a woman trying to prove she has the talent to hold the belt, all on her own. How about Poisyn, who….”

Edwin cuts off Axis, though it looks like King was just about to. “Couldn’t say it any better myself, Axis, and oddly enough, couldn’t take any LONGER than you, either.” King nods, agreeing that Edwin is normally more long winded than most. “Folks, we’re ready for the next match, and it should be a good one. First up is a member of the sWo for this match, and that man is….”

Edwin is cut off once more as ‘Ashes in the Fall’ blares, and the arena boos, a cacophony of disapproval rushing out. Everything intensifies, however, when two men step from behind the curtain, Poisyn apparently being seconded by Mak Francis. King chuckles with glee, the fans respond with hatred, and Mak Francis holds both his belts, one in each hand as he marches behind Poisyn down to the ring, both men berating members of the crowd as they pass. They halt in mid-ramp, and a huge blast of Pyro explodes on the ramp. Funyon stands in mid ring, and he attempts to begin announcing the two, but the fans are too loud, and he cannot do so. Waiting, both men reach the ring, and finally, Funyon raises the Mic once more.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the next match is for one fall, and is an opening tournament match for the SJL WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!” The fans pop for that, though many are still quite vocal about Mak and Poisyn. Francis makes his way around the ring, stopping at the announce table next to King and motioning at an empty seat there. King smiles, holding up a headset for Francis, even as Edwin and Axis grumble aloud. Funyon continues in the ring. “Introducing first, in the ring, weighing in at two hundred and twenty nine pounds, he is the sickness in your veins, he is the debilitating destruction that strikes you down, he is a member of the s…..W….o! He is….. POOOIIIISSSYYYNNNN!!!!!”

Poisyn poses in the ring, and the fans boo once more, their hatred re-doubling for the man who would DARE combat their Canadian hero. At the announce table, Axis speaks up quickly between entrances. “Looks like the fans disdain Poisyn in this match, but it should have been obvious CIA would be the favorite here in Canada City, Canada. It looks like the SJL’s current double champ, and sWo member, Mak Francis, is joining Edwin, King and myself. I’d say it was a pleasure, but I’d be lying.”

Edwin is just about to berate Francis’ presence, but he is cut off as another voice rings throughout the arena, and the fans explode, forgetting their hatred of Poisyn entirely as they rise to their feet. “MY FELLOW CANADIANS!!!!” The explosion is loud, and sustained, and the voice seems ready to wait as the Canadians cheer for him, and, by extension, for their country. As it dies down, the voice returns, and the arena lights cut low, a dull red lighting up the arena. “Get up on your feet, all the men, women and children! Let’s show the sWo we got pride! Let’s sing that anthem, and cheer the athlete who’s slicker than ASTROGLIDE!”

The crowd goes quiet as the fluttering flag appears on the SmarkTron, and as the music begins to play, most of the arena sings along. “Ooooohhhhh Canada!” The pyro explodes, and CIA arrives onstage, brushing through the curtain. Most of the arena cheers, but many still sing the anthem, and as the cheers die, the arena starts again, and ‘Secret Agent man’ cuts out as the arena occupants catch on with the singers and finish the anthem. Meanwhile Poisyn fumes in the ring, berating the referee to call his opponent to the ring. As the stirring rendition of Oh Canada dies out, CIA smiles, and raises his hands to the sky, microphone in hand as he strolls down towards the ring. “Looks like we’ve got someone ordering a biggie size tonight. That’s right, all you fine people, we get not one, but two sWo jackasses for the price of one! But I don’t want to sound like a loudmouth, folks…” The crowd boos. “… TONIGHT I’M HERE TO KICK SOME sWo ASS!”

The fans erupt again as CIA ditches his jacket, heading to the guardrail and handing the keepsake to a young girl in the audience, a miniature flag clutched in her hand.

Francis: You see, this is the problem with that Canadian goof. Too much sucking up to these worthless fans, cause He may have the attitude, but he doesn’t have the talent of a Franchise, a double champ, like me, or a talent like my stablemate Poisyn. Hell, he’s afraid to step in the ring with him.

King: You know, I never realized just how…

Edwin: Overbearing Mak is?

Axis: Egotistical our new double champ can be?

King: *Growl* … how INSIGHTFUL and intelligent this man is. He can see the fear in that silly Canadian, he can TASTE it. He knows Poisyn has him dead to rights, just like any sWo member would, and he doesn’t want any of that sWo WARRIOR in the ring.

In the ring, Poisyn is still jawing at the ref, and he doesn’t notice as CIA rushes the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope. In the ring, coming to his feet, the Canadian rushes Poisyn, catching him in the back of the head with a hard running forearm. The high flyer drops to the mat, and Eddy Long quickly leaps back out of the way, signaling for the bell, which promptly sounds, officially beginning this competition.

*DINGDINGDING*

Edwin: Well, your commentary seems to be a bit less on target than your wrestling, Mak, as CIA has no problems taking it to Poisyn, and the crowd LOVES it.

Francis: Tell me King, how do you NOT buy a gun and kill them both?

King: I ask myself that every day. I think it’s because I’m so much…

Francis: Better than both of them put together?

King: Finally someone understands!

Axis: Finally, someone shares his delusions. CIA is continuing the assault, now, trying to keep Poisyn downed on the mat.

The Canadian does continue his assault, rising up slightly before falling forward and driving his knee into the back of Poisyn’s shoulder. Coming to his feet, he drops again, driving his knee right into the joint again. Finally, CIA takes Poisyn around the throat, coming to his feet, and dragging the sWo-ite up as well. It only takes a second after both men are on their feet, and CIA drops back, bringing Poisyn to the canvas with a reverse mat slam. Floating over from his position, the Canadian covers Poisyn, going for a quick win. Eddy long slides down to the mat, hand swinging out and crashing to the mat.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Kickout! Poisyn shoves the Canadian off of him, and kips up to his feet.

Francis: Well, Poisyn is certainly learning from me. If he keeps moving like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if I have to fight himin the finals. After all, that idiot, CIA, goes for the cover far too early. Why, Poisyn is probably just lulling him into a false sense of security.

Edwin: So his strategy for this wrestling match is to get beat up and let CIA try to pin him, and he learned that from you, that’s what you’re saying?

King: Always taking things out of perspective, Edwin. Poisyn will run right over CIA.

Axis: CIA taking the early advantage, but Poisyn not one to be defeated so easily, still showing a lot of energy.

Poisyn turns around, able to catch CIA rising, and lashes out with a fast body kick, foot driving into the Canadian’s ribs, and following up with a quick punch combo. The sWo man readies to lash out with another fierce kick, but CIA lunges forward, locking the slightly smaller man in a side headlock. Holding on for barely any time at all, CIA is shoved hard towards the ropes, bounding across the ring. Rebounding off of the lengths of elastic line, the Canadian flies towards Poisyn, leaping off his feet and trying to nail the high flyer with a hard dropkick. Poisyn is too quick, however, as he ducks low and to the side, arms reaching up to hook CIA around the waist. Having taken hold of the flying patriot so, the sWo man drops forward, sending CIA’s back crashing across the mat. Planting his feet, Poisyn presses forward, rocking CIA back onto his shoulders. Eddy long slides into place immediately, hand coming down to collide with the mat as the crowd jeers and boos.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

CIA kicks out with authority, rolling away to the side as Poisyn stumbles back a step or two.

Axis: A slight reversal of styles from these two men, both delving into the other’s favored mat game. CIA took to the air with that hard dropkick he likes so well, but Poisyn was too fast, countering it into some kind of powerbomb variation.

Francis: You’ll notice the technical skills of every member of the sWo have improved lately.

Edwin: And I suppose you’ll claim that’s all your doing, nothing to do with hard work and practice in ring?

Francis: Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. I just said you would notice it. After all, Edwin, you have to know the talent so you can hold them down, right?

King: Oooh, you pegged him good, Franchise.

Beginning to rise to his feet, CIA is caught across the chest, the already upright Poisyn rushing over and dropping a leg across his chest. Myers stands, and begins laying in hard kicks to the Canadian’s face and ribs, the ref beginning to admonish him after a few with no respite, the crowd crying out curses in Poisyn’s direction. Running across the ring, Myers hits the ropes and comes flying back across the ring, splashing his body down across the chest of CIA. Hooking the leg, Poisyn yells up at Eddy long, slapping the mat. Long quickly slides to the mat, ready to count the pin, but CIA shoves Poisyn off quickly. Coming to his feet, Myers begins to admonish Long for not being in position, allowing the Canadian a chance to rise to his feet. CIA raises his arms overhead and clasps his hands, rushing Myers from behind. Unfortunately, the high flyer steps out of the way, and it looks as though CIA will floor the ref with a double axehandle. CIA stops just in time, and Eddy long jumps back out of the way just as the Canadian is sent towards the ropes, staggering forward as Poisyn catches him with a high kick to the back of the skull.

Edwin: Poisyn seems to be using his speed to adequate advantage, keeping ahead of the Canadian, for now.

King: For now? I’d say that Eddy Long was clearly out of place for that last pin attempt, and I’d also say you don’t know what you’re talking about. If Poisyn continues his current strategy, he’ll have this match won.

Francis: It’s like I always say. There’s one sure way to win any match in that ring. Just don’t get hit.

Axis: A seemingly sound strategy, but I think for once we may see CIA up against an opponent he can wear down for the win, and the longer this match goes, the more it goes against Poisyn.

CIA stumbles towards the edge of the ring, turning as he hits the ropes. Myers leaps off his feet, body spinning towards the dazed Canadian, a quick spinning wheel kick tumbling CIA back over the ropes to the apron. Not wasting any time, Poisyn tugs the masked wretler in between the bottom two ropes, planting his foot on the back of his opponent’s neck and choking him out along the bottom rope. The fans boo, some throwing empty cups, some swearing at Poisyn, others starting small chants in the audience for CIA. Eddy long begins to admonish Myers, telling him to get out of the ropes. Poisyn merely smirks, and long begins his count. Poisyn responds by immediately coming up off his other foot, planting that one on the back of CIA and pulling up on the tope rope to use his whole weight in choking out the Canadian. The fans boo even louder, and Long counts even louder.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

THREE!

.

FOUR!

.

Myers leaps back, breaking the choke just before he would be DQed. Angrily, Long tries to herd the sWo member back towards midring, but Poisyn merely laughs, kicking CIA in the face, the masked grappler rolling over on the apron and clutching his throat as he tries to regain his breath. Poisyn finally reaches over the ropes, dragging the Canadian to his feet.

King: Now that Poisyn, I admire the way he follows all the rules.

Axis: What are you talking about? He was blatantly using the ropes to choke out CIA! He should be disqualified!

Francis: Allow me to field this one, King. Poisyn has clearly read the section of the rulebook where it states you have till the count of four to release an objectionable hold. If it’s in the rules, you should take advantage of it.

Edwin: You know what else the rulebook says, Mak? It says the ref can call for a DQ for any reason he deems adequate. Poisyn better watch himself, or he may lose his shot, all because of his own stupidity.

Dragging his opponent to his feet, Poisyn hooks him for what looks like a quick suplex back into the ring. Myers tries to heft the Canadian into the air, but CIA hooks his foot on the bottom rope, maintaining his place on the apron. Poisyn tries again, but again CIA stops him, lashing out with hard kidney punches on the high flyer till the hold is broken, thrusting his body forward and driving his knee into the gut of Poisyn through the ropes. Hopping over the top rope, the Canadian hooks the waist of the doubled over Myers, rolling him through in a sunset flip. Eddy Long drops down into place, ready to count the pin.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Poisyn claps his legs together around the head of CIA and rolls back, arms still trapped. Rolling back, Poisyn rises to his feet and hooks the legs of the Canadian, tugging his opponent up onto his shoulders, and pushing down into the pin as Long shifts position and begins to count again.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

CIA rolls back, tugging Poisyn back over his body to the mat. As the sWo member hits the mat, the Canadian reaches down and back, hooking Poisyn’s legs and holding him in another pin. Eddy Long moves again, frantically, getting into place and counting another rapid pin attempt.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Poisyn kicks out hard, sending CIA stumbling towards the center of the ring and rolling over to his feet. Both men stand, facing each other angrily, and, in unison, both men hop towards the other, turning their bodies and firing out their foot, thrusting outwards as their bodies bend away from one other. Both men find their mark, a loud crack echoing out as each man simultaneously connect, superkick crumpling the other man to the mat.

Axis: Stereo superkicks! Both men tiring slightly after that rapid fire set of pin attempts, and with the same idea in mind, both men hit hard!

King: Eddy Long is going to begin the count, but it doesn’t matter. That was a lucky shot, and Poisyn will be back on his feet right away, ready to take to the air and bring this Canadian down right in front of his own country.

Edwin: I don’t know, King, CIAhas shown more of an ability to take a beating, and though Poisyn has been controlling so far, that doesn’t mean nothing’s been taken out of him.

Eddy Long stands in mid ring, beginning his count on both men.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

THREE!

.

Francis: I assure you, Poisyn will definitely be to his feet first. There’s no other possibility.

.

FOUR!

.

Both men start to stir, rolling over on the mat.

.

FIVE!

.

Despite the commentator’s assertions otherwise, CIA seems to be recovering quicker, coming up to his hands and knees.

.

SIX!

.

Long breaks the count as CIA comes up to his feet, Poisyn only moments behind. The Canadian rushes the far ropes, rebounding hard, headed straight for Myers. Swinging out with a hard clothesline, CIA misses as Poisyn ducks low, hitting the ropes on the opposite side. Myers leaps into the air as the Canadian rebounds, trying to catch his running foe around the head for a DDT. CIA stops his run, catching Poisyn out of the air, and hefting him up onto his shoulder. Sitting out, the masked grappler hits the mat, driving his shoulder up into the chest of Poisyn and sending him back, bouncing intot he center of the ring, clutching his ribs. Stepping over towards the fallen Myers, CIA begins to lay in hard kicks to the smaller man’s ribs.

Edwin: Hey, where’s Mr. Franchise going?

King: Obviously your surly, antisocial nature made him angry, and now he wants to head to the back. With only one of his title belts, apparently.

Axis: Then why is he on the ring apron, King?

Indeed, Francis is on the apron, the fans greeting him with a chorus of boos. CIA spots him, and immediately breaks off from Poisyn, marching over towards the Double champ, who is currently concealing his Euro belt behind his back. Myers signals for Eddy Long, who immediately goes to one knee to check on the downed grappler, not having seen Mak Francis on the apron. Francis and CIA begin to argue, the fans in the arena beginning a ‘Fran-chise su-ucks’ chant. Francis looks into the ring, and, sure Long is distracted, he moves, taking a hard swing at CIA with his concealed Euro belt. The Canadian ducks, deftly avoiding the blow. Lashing out, CIA catches Francis in the jaw with a hard punch, and Myers immediately comes to his feet, rushing to help his sWo stablemate. Unfortunately for Poisyn, CIA ducks out and to the side once more, and the high flyer barely has time to stop before he would collide with Mak on the Apron. Eddy Long spots Francis, title belt in hand, and goes to the ropes, trying to get him out of the ring as Poisyn stumbles back. With the ref’s back turned, Poisyn takes one more step back, and suddenly doubles over in pain as CIA catches him from behind with a hard low-blow. The fans cheer, and Eddy Long turns around, just in time to see CIA roll up Myers from behind.

Edwin: The Franchise tries to interfere, but it’s not good, as CIA uses the distraction to do some not so gentle genital re-arrangement on Poisyn!

King: That’s blatant cheating! There’s no five counts on nut-shots! DQ HIM!

Axis: Pinfall attempt, and Long is making the count!

ONE!

.

In the ring, Poisyn kicks and struggles, and the cameras catch a shot of TNT’s hand, middle finger raised in Mak Francis’ direction as the Canadian takes hold of a handful of tights, tugging harder back on his pin attempt.

.

TWO!

.

Francis rushes in through the middle ropes, leaping across the ring to break up the pinfall attempt……

.

THREE!

The fans in the arena erupt, the pinfall becoming final just as Francis catches CIA with the belt, sending him rolling back across the ring. It is too late, however, and the Canadian fans cheer their hero, who rolls out to the floor clutching his skull, Francis and Poisyn both arguing with Eddy Long.

Edwin: A pinfall victory for CIA, a man who is now one step closer to the SJL world title, and I don’t think the sWo is too happy about that!

King: Well of COURSE they’re unhappy! He had the tights! Low blow! I can’t believe these Canadian fans would cheer that cheating bastard!

Axis: Nevertheless, the fans are on their feet, no matter how CIA got the win, and they probably see it as fair retribution for the cheating by Mak Francis. We’ve got to go to commercial before our next great match up between Silent and Cutthroat, so fans, stay tuned! Oh, wait, what’s this…. CIA has made his way up the ramp, and he has a microphone!

Axis is right, as the cameras shift to a zoom in on the Canadian grappler’s face as he stares towards the ring, glaring holes through the two men still standing there. “Hey, Franchise!” Francis, surprised, turns away from Eddy Long as Poisyn continues to arguye, staring up the ramp at the masked wrestler, looking incredulous that CIA would address him. The camera’s go back to CIA, and zoom in real close. “See you REAL soon, Franchise.” The fans erupt once more, as the shot fades to commercial.

July 3, 2002

We're back in beautiful...uh...Canada City, back to the next bracket of the tournament!

"What a tourney we've had thus far!" says Axis over the din of the crowd. Suddenly, the sound of a large rotary phone echoes out into the arena. Edwin MacPhisto gasps!

"It's my magic booth! King, go wheel it over here!"

"What? I'm not you--"

"Do as I say or I'm cutting off your Vivid Video subscription, young man!"

"...rrr..."

King obliges, and somehow he wheels a large British-style red telephone booth over to the announce table. Edwin steps inside and picks up the phone, and no one in the arena really finds this too surreal, I promise.

"What? Neither of them came? Oof! Way to flarpify my brackets! Oogazzaaaa!" Edwin hangs up the phone, storms out of the booth, and...

"King, go put boothy away."

"I'm not--"

"Jenna and Kiana will miiiiss yooooou..."

"...rrr..."

"What the hell was that all about?" asks Axis.

"Syd and Kojack. Neither of them showed up tonight. I'll guess we'll just have to replace their spot in the tourney."

"Who ya got in mind?'

"We'll see..."

July 3, 2002

“Welcome back to SJL Wrath, ladies and gentlemen! My name is Axis, and to my left is the Suicide King-“

“Evening, gentlemen…and ladies, of course.” The King flashes a smile at the camera.

“And to my right is the crown prince of flash and panache himself, Edwin MacPhisto!”

“Salutations! Congratulations! Amalgamations! And what have you, people!”

“Whatever you say, Edwin. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight has certainly been a momentous occasion. With the loss of six of the best wrestlers in the SJL since Snake Eyes, the World title has been vacated, with no immediately obvious number one contender. To remedy this, the powers that be have initiated a tournament to determine the next SJL World champion!”

”That’s right, Axis,” chimes the Suicide King. “We’ve already seen five brackets of competitors vie for inclusion in the semifinals of this tournament, and I have to say that the athleticism and courage displayed by the JLers so far has been nothing short of amazing.”

“ZOUNDS! Indeed, Kingy!” yells Edwin, oblivious to the pointed glare shot at him by the King at the use of the surname, “Kingy”. “And we’re approaching our sixth match of the tournament right this very moment, what is sure to be a scintillating contest between veteran and fan-favorite, Cutthroat, and the man everybody loves to hate, the JL representative of the Clan, Silent!”

”Yes, Edwin, yes we are. But I would hardly call this matchup “scintillating”. Silent dominated Poisyn, another JL veteran, in his return match, and Cutthroat’s win/loss record is…ah..not impressive, to say as little as possible. Add in the fact that Cutthroat is something of a risk-taker and Silent’s technical abilities in the ring, I don’t think you can argue that Silent is a heavy favorite headed into this match.”

“That may be, Kingy, but don’t count your chickens without walking a mile in their shoes, especially if they’re wearing shoes and they haven’t quite hatched yet.” Edwin ignores the confused looks on the faces of his co-announcers and continues on his merry analogical tirade. “I think Cutthroat is motivated by that win/loss record you mentioned, and Silent is certainly prone to underestimating his opponents. Don’t be too shocked if Cutthroat manages to give the Silent One a run for his nasty, nasty, evil, Clan-like money.”

The arena’s lights abruptly cut off as a single blue pyro shoots down from the ceiling, cueing the beginning of Our Lady Peace’s “Whatever”. The crowd bursts into thunderous applause and ear-splitting cheers as Cutthroat springs through the curtains and onto the entrance ramp, his movements accentuated by the flashing blue and white spotlights on either side of him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first…hailing from Greenwich, Connecticut, weighing in at two hundred and fourteen pounds…CUTTHROAT!”

The high-flying Cutthroat slides deftly into the ring and runs to the turnbuckle, hopping onto the second rope and raising his arms in a rarely seen gesture of victory. He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it out into the crowd, along with his sunglasses, and begins stretching himself on the ropes in preparation for his match.

“Cutthroat has certainly hyped up the crowd with his entrance, but it’s going to take a lot more than the support of the fans in order to take down Silent…”

“He did more than hype them UP, Axis, didn’t you SEE it? He absorbs his ENERGY from the FANS, my Australian-but-otherwise-reasonable friend!”

”I’m sure he did…something…like that, Edwin. Would you stop playing with the streamers already, please? I think King is ready to do something drastic.”

“But Axis, it was the natural thing to do. How could a showman such as myself resist the undeniable urge that EVERYBODY has to make a rope out of the streamers and yank Kingy’s chair out from underneath of him?”

”KINGY? What is WRONG with you, Edwin? Oh, that’s it, you prancing little bastard, now you’re going to-“

King is cut off abruptly, along with the arena’s lights, as “The Sound of Silence” pounds through the speakers. The spotlights at the top of the entrance ramp turn a deep, dark red as a billowing cloud of smoke begins to pour out from behind the curtains. The crowd, familiar with the lights and fog since the events of Crimson, begin to boo the entrance of the Silent One even before Funyon has the opportunity to announce his presence.

“Introducing second…hailing from Phoenix, Arizona…weighing in at two hundred forty-one pounds and representing the Clan…” Funyon is momentarily drowned out by the catcalls and insults being hurled from the crowd. Even the impartial Funyon allows his distain for the Clan to show on his face as he utters the name of Ordonez’s opponent this evening…

“SIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

The Clannite emerges from the back, cane in hand, nodding his head slightly in tune with the music. He glides down the ramp, a maddening smile on his face, as he approaches the ring and his waiting opponent.

“Silent looks very confident tonight; we certainly saw on Crimson that he’s still in fantastic condition. Cutthroat has his work cut out for him in this match, no matter how you look at it, or who you’re rooting for.”

“That’s very true, Axis. Silent’s sound defeat of Poisyn on Crimson proved that the Clansman hasn’t lost any of his skill, or his ruthlessness, but I think he tends to underestimates his opponents, and against a high-flying wrestler of Cutthroat’s caliber, that could easily prove to be a fatal mistake.”

“You both make valid points here, Axis…Kingy,” smirks Edwin. “But just like Silent may very well underestimate Cutthroat, I am ninety-nine percent certain that Cutthroat, the fans, the SJL locker room, and you two gentlemen are underestimating Silent. I said it once on Crimson, and I’ll say it again: nobody in the JL has seen what Silent is really capable of when he’s motivated.”

The Suicide King snorts derisively as Silent slides into the ring, his eyes fixed on Cutthroat in the opposite corner. “Whatever you say, Edwin. I’m as big a fan of Silent’s as anybody here,” he continues, ignoring MacPhisto’s murderous glance, “but really. No matter how scary he looks or how devious he is, how dangerous do you really think he could possibly be?”

**DING DING**

“King, even after all that’s happened between the two of us, I hope you never know the answer to that question.”

King stares at Edwin, genuinely speechless, as the two combatants approach each other in the center of the ring.

Moving almost too fast to be seen, Silent casually slaps Cutthroat hard across the face, a devious grin on the face of the Clansman. The Canadian crowd boos relentlessly as Silent sneers at the ringside fans. “Silent showing absolutely no respect here for his opponent…oh, hold on, now!”

The crowd’s jeers quickly turn to cheers as a stiff roundhouse kick knocks the sneer from the surprised face of the Clansman. Cutthroat follows it up with a picture-perfect somersault kick, knocking Silent back into the ropes as the crowd cheers him on. Cutthroat kips up to his feet, charges at the dazed Silent, and sends him flying over the top rope with a vicious spinning heel kick!

”Wow! I heard that impact from all the way over here!” yells Axis over the roar of the sold-out Canada Dome. Cutthroat takes a brief moment to pose for the crowd, triggering what can only be described as a wave of flash photography across the arena. “One heck of a start for Cutthroat!” remarks Edwin, as the high-flyer climbs to the top rope…

…And knocks Silent back down to the floor with a gigantic Dragon Kick! Both men are down and winded on the outside as scattered “Holy shit” chants break out along the floor barrier. “Amazing!” breathes the Suicide King. “A Dragon Kick from the top turnbuckle to the floor has seemingly put both men down for the count, and Cutthroat is on the offensive early in this match!”

Cutthroat is the first man to his feet, and he grabs Silent by his hair and rolls him roughly back into the ring. Climbing onto the apron, Cutthroat keeps his advantage with a slingshot senton, drawing a round of “oohs” and “aahs” from the crowd and providing him with an early pinfall.

ONE!

TWO!

”Silent kicks out with authority, but the Clansman has to be somewhat disoriented. He doesn’t seem to have come into this match expecting a fight, but it looks like Cutthroat’s ready to give him one anyway!”

”Don’t be so sure of that, Axis,” warns Edwin. “You know almost as well as I do how resilient Silent is, and I promise you, we haven’t seen him in a really desperate situation in the SJL- this is no exception.”

Axis sighs as Silent pulls himself to his feet, using the nearby ropes for leverage. “If you say so, Edwin. You seem to know what you’re talking about so far when it comes to Silent.”

”Believe me, Axis, it’s not something I wanted to know.”

Edwin’s comment hangs in the air as Cutthroat sends a disoriented Silent hurling across the ring with an Irish whip. The Silent One comes back, looking to catch his opponent off-guard with a wild clothesline, but Cutthroat moves his head slightly out of the way and connects with a hard uppercut to Silent’s chin.

“Razor Punch by Cutthroat!” yells the Suicide King, and Silent drops to the canvas like the proverbial bag of bricks. “Cutthroat’s really cooking now, folks! Pinfall attempt by Cutthroat!”

ONE!

TWO!

”Another kick-out by Silent, and DAMN it, King, I’ve told you a thousand times, AT LEAST, that **I** am the play-by-play man, not you. Do that again and I’ll start using Edwin’s colorful nicknames.”

”Yeah, Kingy!”

”Shut up, Edwin.”

Silent half-heartedly gets to his feet, still aware of his surroundings, but unable to defend against the oncoming Superkick that cracks his jaw, splits his lip, and sends him back to the canvas once again! The Canada Dome almost explodes as Cutthroat, without posing for once, ascends to the top turnbuckle, measures Silent up…and flies impossibly through the air, sailing halfway across the ring and landing the Five-Star Frog Splash!

ONE!

TWO!

THR…a groan of disappointment escapes the arena as Silent kicks out just before the three count; Kivell’s hand freezes in midair as the Silent One’s shoulder jerks, almost involuntarily, off the canvas. “Silent has absorbed a tremendous amount of punishment in a very short time here, Edwin! If he doesn’t mount some sort of offense here, and soon, I think we may actually see that rarest of rare occurrences, a clean win for Cutthroat!”

“Zounds! A rare, and impressive, occurrence, don’t you agree, Kingy?”

”Edwin, I’m going to kill you.”

”Whatever floats your boat…Kingy!”

”Shut up.”

Cutthroat pulls the Silent One to his feet and throws Silent’s arm across his shoulder, raising his other arm high into the air, sending the crowd into a veritable frenzy for the upcoming STO. “Cutthroat is, at long last, on a roll!” yells an overjoyed Edwin MacPhisto. “If he can keep this momentum going, I really think he has…”

MacPhisto stops in mid-sentence, oblivious to the crowd’s applause for once, as Silent groggily applies a standing crossface to Cutthroat’s neck and raised arm. A deep frown creases the features of the crown prince of flash and panache.

“Wait. Scratch that last momentum remark…never mind. Call the paramedics, would you, Axis?”

The Suicide King shoots a suspicious glance at his fellow commentator. “What are you talking about, MacPhisto? Silent might not be doing so hot right now, but he certainly isn’t going to require medical assistance to…oh, damn! What the hell was that?”

The Florida crowd is stunned into silence, appropriately, as the Clansman lifts an extremely surprised Cutthroat into the air, turns around, and drops him neck-first onto the canvas. The sickening crunch of the high-flyer’s vertebrae against the mat silences the arena, as Matthew Kivell somewhat reluctantly begins his count…

ONE.

TWO.

THREE.

**DING DING**

“Your winner by pinfall…SIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

“The Sound of Silence” hits the speakers as Silent wearily stands. The paramedics enter the ring, stretcher in tow, as the Clansman looks down impassionately at the motionless body of his opponent.

“An all-too-familiar scene, ladies and gentlemen, as Silent wins a decisive victory over SJL veteran Cutthroat. Edwin, I have to ask. How in the world did you know what Silent was about to do?”

An uncharacteristically serious-looking MacPhisto turns to his co-announcer. “It’s one of a number of finishing moves Silent likes to use. That one’s…rare, though. He only uses it when he wants to make an impression on his opponent, or to send a message to somebody watching the match.”

”PPPFFFFTTT!” snorts the always-eloquent Suicide King. “And what, pray tell us, Edwin, is the name of this nasty little move of Silent’s?”

”It’s called the Demonstar Driver, King.”

”Well, at least that’s an appropriate name. How did you come up with that?”

”I didn’t. Silent did. It just so happens that…that I’ve seen it used before.”

The astonishment on the faces of Axis and King is plain to the millions of viewers watching Wrath from the comfort of their homes. The Wrath crowd continues to boo Silent as he follows Cutthroat’s stretcher up the ramp, oblivious to the revelations occurring at the announcer’s table.

Axis nearly misses the transfer to commercial break before regaining his professional composure.

“Well…well, that’s very…very interesting, Edwin. Stay tuned, everyone! The bracket six match of the World Title tournament is next on SJL Wrath!”

July 3, 2002

The camera’s pan across the great Canadian fans around the Canada Dome, and then cut back over to Axis, King, and Edwin. Axis and Edwin are looking down at papers, as King just stares at Edwin. Edwin lifts his head, and looks at King.

Edwin: What?

King: You know what….

Edwin: No, I don’t know. Why are you staring at me?

King: How could you?

Edwin: How could I what?

King: You know what.

Edwin: No, I don’t, why don’t you tell me?

King: Because, I don’t want to say it in front of this great Canadian crowd.

Edwin: What are you talking about?

King: You know what I’m talking about.

Edwin: You’re an idiot.

King: And you know what you are.

Edwin: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Axis: All right, all right, enough. Lets get to this match. Well folks, right now, were going to have two of the world’s top cruiserweights go at it, to advance in the world title tournament. We have the veteran, Venom, and the newest member of the SJL, the rookie, ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins.

Edwin: Hey King, who won our bet last week in the Hollywood, Y2K match?

King: Stop being a sore winner.

Edwin: Winner, as in me, as in I won and you lost. That’s all I wanted to hear.

King: Damn Y2K, and damn Spike….

The lights suddenly dim….

“I'm not the one who's so far away,

When I feel the snake bite enters my veins.”

The sound of “Voodoo” by Godsmack starts as pyro starts exploding on the stage, and two giant green arc’s fall from the top of the stage and hang up on the entranceway. Venom walks out behind the entrance curtain and slowly walks down to the ring. He soon makes it to the ring, and steps up the steel steps, and enters the ring. He then walks from corner to corner, stepping onto the middle rope, raising his hands into the air, with his palms out and his head back, causing the crowd to erupt. In the last corner, as he steps down, his music is interrupted from out of nowhere, and “Peace Not Greed” by the Kottonmouth Kings starts up.

Edwin: Here comes Hollywood.

King: He should stay in the back; everyone knows Venom is going to wipe the floor with him.

Axis: I don’t know about that King. Both these guys seem equal in the speed area.

King: Maybe, but Hollywood is lacking one thing. Experience. And Venom has that.

Axis: You know, your right King.

King: Of course I am.

Edwin: King is right? That’s a first.

King: You’re really annoying.

Neon green lights start flashing over the arena, as the Canadian crowd rises to their feet. ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins walks out from behind the entrance curtain, wearing a Canadian Maple Leafs hockey jersey, with the number “420” on the back of it, and a pair of baggy, neon green, khaki’s. He walks down to the ring, posing for the crowd a bit. Hollywood walks up to the ring, and steps onto the apron. He springboards over the top rope, and lands on the middle turnbuckle in one of the corners, and starts posing for the crowd a bit.

Edwin: Hollywood off a big win last week over “The Rising Sun” Y2K while Venom just came up short of a win in that four way dance for the European Championship, in which “The Franchise” Mak Francis became a double champion.

King: So what are you saying, that Venom can’t beat Hollywood?

Edwin: I never said anything like that.

Axis: But while we are on the subject, later on tonight, Mak Francis, our Double Champion, will be main-eventing, in another world title tournament match, against Renegade. Can Mak make it three titles?

Edwin: Three titles? If it can be done, Mak can do it. But if I were him, I would also worry very much about the titles he already has around his waist.

King: ARE YOU THREATENING THE FRANCHISE?

Edwin: Of course not…I’m just saying. He has a lot of competition around for those titles.

King: Oh yeah, like who?

Edwin: Look in the ring. There are two guys who are perfectly capable of challenging Mak. Venom did last week….

King: AND LOST!

Edwin: Yeah, but what about Hollywood?

King: What about him?

Edwin: You don’t think Mak would have a hard time getting by him?

King: Of course not. Mak is…Mak is THE FRANCHISE. And Hollywood is some rookie.

Axis: I don’t know King. I would have to agree with Edwin. Hollywood is very capable of taking one of those titles away from Mak.

King: If there ever were a Hollywood vs. Mak match, I would put my money on Mak, One Hundred Percent.

Edwin: And isn’t that how you loss our bet last week?

King: Shut up. Mak is very different from Y2K.

Edwin: Uh huh.

Back in the ring, Hollywood and Venom finally square off. Hollywood gives his hand out to shake Venom’s, but Venom just slaps it away, getting a small boo from the crowd. Hollywood just looks at Venom, wondering what is going on, when Venom all of a sudden, slaps Hollywood across the face, getting a loud “OHHHH” from the crowd. Hollywood holds his cheek, and without warning, just slaps Venom across the face, getting another “OHHH” and a small pop from the crowd.

King: Hollywood should not be doing that to veterans.

Edwin: But Venom slapped him first.

King: So?

Venom just turns to Hollywood with a pissed off look on his face, and goes to throw a punch at Hollywood, but Hollywood ducks under it.

* DING * DING * DING *

Venom quickly turns to Hollywood, and Hollywood gives him a few right hands, knocking him back into the ropes. Hollywood attempts to whip Venom across the ropes, but Venom reverses it, sending Hollywood into the ropes. Hollywood comes running back to Venom, and Venom goes for a clothesline, but Hollywood ducks under it, and runs towards the ropes. Instead of bouncing into the ropes, Hollywood grabs the top rope and springboards onto the apron, with his back towards the crowd. Venom turns to Hollywood, and runs towards him, but Hollywood throws his shoulder through the middle rope, nailing Venom in the mid-section, forcing him to bend over. Hollywood then uses the ropes to springboard over the top rope, and rolls over Venom’s back, landing right behind Venom. Hollywood then does a back kick, kicking Venom in the ass, knocking him through the middle rope, onto the apron, and getting a pop and a few laughs from the crowd. Venom looks at Hollywood, as Hollywood poses for the crowd.

King: What the hell…

Edwin: Haha, Hollywood giving the audience a little laugh.

Venom rolls into the ring, and quickly gets to his feet. He walks towards Hollywood, and is met with a right hand from Hollywood. Hollywood then attempts to whip Venom into the ropes again, throwing Venom across the ring, into the ropes. Venom comes running back to Hollywood, as Hollywood ducks his head, but Venom grabs Hollywood by the hair, and his pants, and rushes towards the ropes, dragging Hollywood, and throws Hollywood straight through the middle rope, causing Hollywood to fall to the floor unprotected.

Axis: Whoa!

Edwin: Where did that come from?

King: HAHA, Yeah, Venom is going to beat the hell out of Hollywood.

The crowd, for some reason, starting booing Venom, as Venom doesn’t even bother to listen to them, and just stands in the ring, waiting for Hollywood. Hollywood slowly starts to get up onto his knees, and looks in the ring, shocked, as he never would expect Venom to do something like this. Hollywood gets to his feet, and steps onto the ring apron. He steps into the ring, looking at Venom, as Venom is just basically telling him to “Just Fight.” Hollywood and Venom circle each other, and lock up. Venom is able to power Hollywood into a headlock.

King: See, Venom is able to easily power Hollywood. Venom has this match in the bag.

Edwin: Uh huh. Yeah right…

Hollywood is able to push Venom off of him, and pushes him towards the ropes. Venom bounces off the ropes, and runs back to Hollywood. Hollywood goes for a clothesline, but Venom ducks under it, stopping behind Hollywood. Hollywood turns to Venom, and Venom goes for his own clothesline, but Hollywood ducks under that also, and ducks behind Venom. Hollywood and Venom turn to each other, and before either of them do anything, Hollywood throws his hands out, and yells “STOP!!!!” Venom just looks at him weird as the crowd stares in silence. Hollywood then starts….break dancing?

King: Ummm…

Axis: What is…he doing?

Edwin: I…don’t….know….

Hollywood then jumps to the ground, and dives onto his neck/head/shoulders area, and does a spin (Booker T’s Spin-A-Roonie) as the crowd gives a loud pop. Hollywood then rolls over onto his knee, and stands, giving a little pose for the crowd, before he quickly turns to Venom, and gives him a quick thumb to the eye.

King: HE POKED HIM IN THE EYE! That should be a DQ!

Edwin: HAHA

King: IT’S NOT FUNNY!

Venom grabs a hold of his eye, and starts walking circles, holding his eye in pain. Hollywood quickly runs towards him, jumping into the air, and throwing his leg over Venom’s head, and dropping down, driving Venom face first into the mat.

Axis: Rocker Dropper!

Hollywood quickly turns Venom over onto his back, and lays on top of him, hooking his leg

One

.

Two

.

Venom gets a shoulder up. Hollywood stands, grabbing Venom by his head, and lifting him to his feet. Hollywood pushes Venom up against the ropes, and whips him across the ring. Venom runs back towards Hollywood, and Hollywood goes for a spinning heel kick, but Venom ducks it, and stops short behind Hollywood. Hollywood and Venom turn to each other, and Venom is able to his an elbow, knocking Hollywood back a bit. Hollywood stumbles back, but walks back towards Venom. Venom lifts Hollywood, and drives him into the mat with a scoop slam. Venom then jumps into the air, and hitting a big leg drop onto Hollywood’s neck. Venom quickly rolls over on top of Hollywood.

One

.

Two

.

King: Come on Venom, beat him.

.

Hollywood gets a shoulder up. Venom turns to the referee, saying that it was three count, but still nothing. Venom gets to his feet, pulling Hollywood up with him.

Edwin: Both men are tired.

King: So? Venom is beating on Hollywood, Oh Yeah!

Venom pushes Hollywood into the corner. Venom whips Hollywood out of the corner, across the ring to the opposite corner, but Hollywood reverses, and Venom goes crashing into the turnbuckle. Hollywood runs at Venom, diving to the ground, doing a roll, and jumping out of it landing on top of Venom.

Axis: Rolling Monkey Flip…

Venom walks out of the corner, holding Hollywood, and out of nowhere, drives Hollywood into the ground with a spinebuster. Venom hooks Hollywood’s legs, and falls back, slingshoting Hollywood into the corner, but Hollywood is able to land on the middle rope. Venom stands, and turns towards Hollywood, as Hollywood leaps off the middle rope backwards, but is met with a kick to the midsection by Venom. Venom quickly grabs Hollywood as he is bent over, and drives him head first into the mat.

Axis: Lightning DDT.

Edwin: Where did that come from?

King: Oh yeah…

Venom quickly jumps for the cover.

One

.

Two

.

Hollywood is able to get a foot on the ropes. Venom looks at Hollywood’s foot on the ropes, not believing that Hollywood kicked out. Venom stands, and lifts Hollywood to his feet by his hair. He pulls Hollywood into the middle of the ring and whips him towards the ropes. Hollywood bounces off the ropes, and comes running back to Venom. Venom ducks his head, but Hollywood grabs his head, and jumps into the air holding onto Venom, yelling “Ohhhh…..” but gets cut off as Venom throws him off. Hollywood lands on his feet, but falls back into the corner.

King: THANK YOU GOD. That DDT was so god damn annoying.

Edwin: I finally agree with you…

Venom and Hollywood charge at each other, but Venom is able to grab Hollywood and jumps into the air, and swings around for his own tornado DDT, but before coming down, Hollywood holds him up, and walks with Venom towards the ropes, dropping Venom onto the top rope crotching him. Hollywood is so tired; he falls back into the corner facing Venom, and holds himself up using the turnbuckle. Hollywood looks at Venom, and then turns his back towards him, and springboards himself up to the top rope, now facing Venom. Hollywood dives off the top rope towards Venom, and kicks Venom in the face, knocking him off the top rope, and down to the floor.

Axis: Venom is out on the outside of the ring, and Hollywood is out inside the ring.

King: Come on Venom!

Venom slowly starts to stand as Hollywood pulls himself up to his knees. Venom pulls himself up onto the ring apron, as Hollywood stands. Hollywood turns to Venom, but Venom springboards onto the top rope, and dives at Hollywood, wrapping his legs around Hollywood’s head, going for a Hurricanrana, but Hollywood is able to drive Venom into the ground with a powerbomb. Hollywood falls over, landing on top of Venom.

One

.

Two

.

Venom pushes Hollywood off of him. Hollywood pulls himself to his feet, and grabs Venom by his hair and lifts him to his feet. Hollywood whips Venom towards the ropes. Venom bounces off the ropes, and comes running back to Hollywood. Hollywood goes for a clothesline, but Venom ducks under it, and continues running into the ropes. Venom bounces off the ropes, and charges towards Hollywood, but Hollywood dodges out of the way, slapping Venom in the leg (Lucha Libre!), and Venom runs back into the ropes. Venom bounces off the ropes, and runs back to Hollywood. Hollywood lifts Venom and throws him into the air, then jumps up with him, positioning his knee’s in Venom’s gut, and then both come down, Venom crashing down on top of Hollywood’s knees.

Axis: Hollywood just used Venom’s own finishing move.

Edwin: The Snake Bite is used against Venom.

King: NOOOOOOOO

Venom holds his gut in pain, as Hollywood jumps on him for the pin.

One

.

Two

.

Venom somehow kicks out. Hollywood looks at the referee stunned.

King: Hollywood can’t even beat Venom with his own finisher. Hollywood will never beat Venom.

Hollywood gets to his feet, and starts to walk towards the corner, but collapses, and grabs a hold of his knee.

Axis: The Snake Bite isn’t just affective against the opponent. It also hurts the person doing its knees.

King: Hollywood is so dumb. He didn’t even realize he just destroyed his own knees.

Hollywood starts crawling to the corner. He slides under the bottom rope, and crawls over to the corner. Hollywood then begins to climb to the top rope, as Venom slowly starts to stand. Hollywood gets to the top rope, as Venom gets to his feet. Venom turns to Hollywood, just as Hollywood leaps off the top rope at Venom, Venom jumps into the air, meeting Hollywood in mid-air, wrapping his legs around Hollywood’s bad knee, and twisting it, as they both come crashing to the mat.

Axis: Mid Air drop toe hold.

Edwin: He might of just have taken out Hollywood’s knee for good.

King: Hollywood cant stand, this match is over.

Venom gets to his feet and walks over to the corner, as Hollywood rolls around in pain, holding onto his bad knee. Venom steps through the ropes, and starts to climb to the top rope. Venom climbs up to the top rope, as Hollywood rolls into the middle of the ring, holding his knee in excruciating pain. Venom leaps off the top rope, pumping his arms and legs into his body and back out, and comes crashing down across Hollywood’s chest.

Axis: Venom just used Hollywood’s own frog splash against him.

King: Ha! Now THAT is a Ratings Grabber. Well, Hollywood is done.

Edwin: Can Hollywood kick out of his own finisher?

Venom cockily lies on top of Hollywood, pinning him.

One

.

Two

.

Hollywood somehow gets a shoulder up. Venom quickly gets to his feet and looks down at Hollywood, not knowing what to do to keep him down.

Edwin: Hollywood is out here to prove himself to everyone in the SJL. And winning the world title tournament will do just that.

King: Winning? He better hope on getting out of this match alive. You know Venom also wants that spot in the tournament. He also wants to be the top person in this league.

Venom grabs Hollywood by the hair, and lifts him to his feet. Venom hooks Hollywood’s head with his arm, and throws Hollywood’s arm over his head. Venom then lifts Hollywood up, and snaps back, driving Hollywood into the mat with a snap suplex. Venom rolls over onto his feet, still holding onto Hollywood, and pulls Hollywood to his feet. Venom then lifts Hollywood again, and snapping back, driving Hollywood into the mat again, with another snap suplex. Venom then rolls back onto his feet, still holding onto Hollywood, pulling Hollywood to his feet. Venom then lifts Hollywood, and holds him in the air. Venom then drops back, driving Hollywood into the ground, and flipping over onto him with a Float-over Suplex.

Axis: That’s what Venom calls The Trance. Two snap suplexes and then a final suplex.

One

.

Two

.

King: Come on Venom!

.

Hollywood somehow kicks out. Venom stands on his knees, and looks around the fans. Venom rises to his feet. Venom runs backwards into the ropes, and runs back to Hollywood on the ground, and drops down onto Hollywood, driving his elbows into Hollywood’s chest.

King: Come on Venom…

Venom lies on top of Hollywood, and hooks his leg.

One

.

Two

.

Hollywood gets a shoulder up. Venom rises to his feet, and grabs Hollywood by the hair, lifting him to his feet. Venom holds Hollywood by his shoulder, and then leaps into the air, wrapping his legs around Hollywood’s head, then falling back, flipping Hollywood over in a Hurricanrana.

Axis: Nice standing Hurricanrana by Venom.

King: Come on Hollywood, give up. You’re done. You’re not getting up.

Edwin: Oh shut up.

Venom quickly covers Hollywood.

One

.

Two

.

Hollywood gets a shoulder up. Venom gets to his feet, grabbing Hollywood by his hair, and lifting him to his feet. He pushes Hollywood back into the ropes, and Hollywood, who is just about out of it right now, steps back to Venom, and Venom grabs Hollywood by under his arms, and lifts him into the air like dead weight, and drops down in a Sky High powerbomb. Venom sits there with his arm over Hollywood’s chest.

One

.

Two

.

King: Come on Venom. HOLLYWOOD! Stay Down!

.

Hollywood gets another shoulder up. Venom holds his head in pain, and then starts slapping the ring. Venom rises to his feet, and grabs Hollywood by the hair again, and lifting him to his feet. Venom steps behind Hollywood, and grabs Hollywood around the waist. Venom goes to lift Hollywood, but Hollywood wraps his leg around Venoms leg. Hollywood then hits a back elbow, hitting Venom right in the side of the head. Hollywood then gives Venom another elbow to the head, causing Venom to let go of his grip.

Edwin: Hollywood is fighting back. Come on Hollywood.

King: Venom! Stop him before he does something that can cost you the match!

Hollywood runs into the ropes in front of him, and runs back towards Venom, but before he is able to do anything, Venom steps to him, and gives him a quick kick to the gut, almost knocking Hollywood over.

King: Good Job Venom.

Venom quickly turns Hollywood over, and once again, grabs Hollywood around the waist. Venom lifts Hollywood up, and throws him back, attempting a release German suplex, but Hollywood is able to land on his feet, but due to his knee injury, he falls to a knee. Venom quickly stands, as does Hollywood. Venom turns to Hollywood, but is met with a superkick to the jaw, knocking Venom to the mat. Hollywood then steps over to Venom, and jumps into the air, doing a 180* spin in mid-air, and dropping down, leg dropping Venom across the chest.

Axis: 420 Leg drop!

King: Oh no…

Hollywood gets to his feet, and runs in the opposite direction of Venom into the ropes. Hollywood comes running back towards Venom, diving to the ground, doing a roll, jumping out of it, and jumping into the air, and dropping down across Venom’s chest with a senton getting a big pop out of the crowd.

Axis: ROLLING THUNDER!

King: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Hollywood lies on top of Venom, and hooks his leg.

One

.

Two

.

Venom gets a shoulder up, getting a big “Ohhh” from the crowd. Hollywood looks out into the crowd with a look of disbelief on his face. He quickly gets to his face, grabbing Venom, and pulls him up to his feet. Hollywood pushes Venom back into the ropes, and then whips him across the ropes, but Venom reverses it, but Hollywood holds onto Venom. Venom attempts a short arm clothesline, but Hollywood ducks under it. Venom and Hollywood turn to each other, and Venom walks to Hollywood, but Hollywood lifts Venom up onto his shoulders.

Axis: Can it be? THE GREATEST PRO WRESTLING MOVE IN PRO WRESTLING HISTORY EVEN BEFORE THE DAYS OF HULK HOGAN, RIC FLAIR, AND LOU THEZ!

King: The what?

Edwin: It’s Hollywood’s other finisher.

Axis: Yeah, The Greatest Pro Wrestling Move in Pro Wrestling History Even Before the Days of Hulk Hogan, Ric Flair, and Lou Thez!

Hollywood holds Venom on his shoulders, but before he can do anything, Venom wiggles out of it, and falls behind Hollywood. Venom then dives down at Hollywood’s bad knee, clipping it back, causing Hollywood to fall over in pain.

King: What a smart move!

Hollywood holds his knee in pain, as Venom walks over to the corner. Venom steps out onto the ring apron, and climbs up to the top rope. Hollywood slowly stands, as Venom stands on the top rope. Hollywood turns towards Venom, as Venom dives off the top rope at him. Venom grabs Hollywood around the neck, and does a swinging, but before he is able to drop down for the DDT, Hollywood holds onto him, and lifts him back, dropping him back onto the mat with a Northern Lights Suplex!

Axis: Hollywood just reversed the True Fear into a northern lights suplex!

King: Kick out Venom, Kick Out.

Edwin: Hollywood might have him.

Hollywood holds Venom, bridging the northern lights suplex.

One

.

Two

.

Venom kicks out of it!

Edwin: Oh My God!

King: I told you. Venom will not stay down.

Axis: This match is incredibly close. There is no telling who could win.

King: Of course there is. Venom is going to win.

Hollywood holds his knee in pain, but uses the ropes to pull himself up, as Venom gets to his feet. Hollywood and Venom walk over to each other, and Hollywood goes to give Venom a right hand, but Venom ducks under it, and gets behind Hollywood. Hollywood turns to Venom, as Venom grabs Hollywood around the waist, lifting him into the air, and driving him into the mat.

Axis: Belly to Belly suplex from out of nowhere.

Venom quickly covers Hollywood.

One

.

Two

.

Hollywood kicks out. Venom lies back onto the mat, and rolls under the bottom rope, and onto the apron. Venom pulls himself up using the ropes, and walks over to the top rope, as Hollywood begins to stand. Venom climbs onto the middle rope, as Hollywood walks over, and gives him a right hand to the head. He gives him another right to the head, and then another. Hollywood then climbs to the middle rope inside the ring, as Venom is on the middle rope on the outside of the ring. Hollywood hooks his arm over Venoms head, and throws Venom’s arm over his head. Hollywood then tries to lift Venom for what looks like a Superplex, but Venom hits Hollywood in the ribs with his free hand. Venom then hits Hollywood again in the ribs, causing Hollywood to let go of his grip. Venom pushes Hollywood off the middle rope, and Hollywood lands back first onto the mat, and flipping over onto his stomach. Venom regains his balance, and climbs up to the top rope.

King: Come on Venom, finish him off now.

Axis: It’s coming down to the wire here….

Edwin: One simple mistake can cost Venom everything.

King: I TOLD YOU! Venom is going to win.

Hollywood rises to his feet, and turns towards Venom on the top rope. Venom dives over Hollywood, grabbing onto him on his way down, going for a Super Sunset Flip, but instead of falling back, Hollywood falls on top of Venom’s head. Venom lifts his legs to get out of it, but Hollywood grabs his legs, and holds him down in a little roll up.

One

.

Two

.

Three????? And the crowd erupts.

King: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Edwin: He did it!

Axis: Hollywood did it!

* Ding * Ding * Ding *

Hollywood lets go of Venom and falls over onto his face, as “Peace Not Greed” by the Kottonmouth Kings starts up. Venom sits up, not knowing what just happened, as the referee walks over to Hollywood, and raises his arm in the air. Hollywood pulls himself to his feet as Venom stands up himself. Venom just stares at Hollywood in disbelief.

King: How did he do it?

Edwin: I don’t know, but he did.

Axis: A well-fought win for Hollywood.

King: But look, Venom is going to pound the floor with that cheap Hollywood.

Hollywood turns to Venom, as Venom just stares at him. Venom walks over to Hollywood, as Hollywood goes to defend himself, Venom puts his arm out to shake hands with Hollywood. Hollywood looks out into the crowd, and then turns back to Venom. Hollywood then puts his hand out and Venom and him shake hands to a big crowd pop. They let go of each other, as Venom slides out of the ring, and walks to the back. Hollywood flips over the top rope, landing on the floor, and walks to the back.

King: WHAT THE HELL?

Edwin: Two great competitors shake hands after a well-fought match.

King: I think I’m going to be sick…

July 3, 2002

(The camera pans the Canada Dome in Canada City, Canada, as it’s a packed house, wanting to see some more great SJL action.)

Axis: BUENO! WELCOME TO WRATH! I’m Axis, your hero, along side “Mac Daddy” Edwin MacPhisto and everybody’s favorite heel, The Suicide King. Tonight, we start all over again, as we have had six of our superstars bumped up to the big show, and we are left without a SJL World Champion. We have had six matches to determine the eight participants in the tournament, with two more to come.

Edwin: Axis, these next two matches are crucial, as all four competitors are very good at writing, and without a doubt, has a GREAT chance at going far in this tournament...

King: Yeah, but HE is back...

Edwin: You mean...

King: Yep...THAT STEAK SAUCE COVERED BASTARD~!

Axis: Ladies and Gentlemen, this next match, will be a dandy. God Of Thunder, all around bad-ass Thor will face one of the most enigmatic competitors since the Ultimate Warrior, T-Bone. This has the making of a great match. Let’s go to our man FUNYON, who has the intros!

(Suddenly, the lights go dark and the blue shines at the top of the ramp as KISS’s “God of Thunder” plays and a lightning bolt strikes the stage. Thor steps through the curtain with a look of determination and focus on his face. He makes his way to the ring, giving a couple high fives to some fans and then enters, waiting for his opponent.)

Axis: Thor is looking determined, I can’t wait to see what he has up his sleeve tonight!

(Suddenly, a bell tolls over the loudspeakers, as AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells” blares over the loudspeakers. Lights flash and T-Bone steps out from behind the curtain. The crowd roars at the return of the Steak Sauce Covered Bastard.)

Axis: T-BONE HAS RETURNED!!!!!!

(T-Bone struts that aisle and jumps to the ring apron, peering out into the crowd. He takes the A-1 Sauce bottle out of his pocket, and then takes a swig before he tosses the bottle to the crowd. He then leans back against the ropes and spews the sauce into the air before stepping into the ring.)

DING! DING! DING!

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the Bracket 7 Match to determine the NEW SJL Heavyweight Champion of the World. Introducing first, in the corner to my left, from The Gleaming Halls of Asgard, weighing 345 pounds, the God of Thunder...THORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Axis: The Big Man hasn’t taken his eyes off T-Bone. He wants this match...

Funyon: And his opponent, in the corner to my right, from Sonoma, California. He weighs 275 pounds. He is the STEAK SAUCE COVERED BASTARD...TEEEEEEEEEEEEE-BOOOOONE!

(As soon as Funyon is done, the two combatants walk towards the center of the ring and get in each other’s face, well, T-Bone has to look up...but you get the picture. Thor starts talking trash before T-Bone knocks Thor backwards with a push, but then Thor pushes T-Bone back onto his ass, and T-Bone rolls backwards into the corner. Thor yells “C’MON!” before T-bone obliges and runs at Thor with a huge elbow that staggers him. T-Bone then bounces off the ropes, but Thor picks him up and then lifts him over his head. He takes him over towards the ropes as if to toss him over, but the ref begs for him not to, so he just drops T-Bone behind him face-first to the mat.)

Axis: WHAT BRUTE STRENGTH! T-Bone has underestimated the God of Thunder! That was an impressive Gorilla Press.

(Thor picks T-Bone up and then takes him over to the corner. He rears back and lets loose a thunderous chop...)

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

(T-Bone grabs at his chest and stumbles out of the corner, but Thor pushes him back. He rears back and fires it off again, but T-Bone ducks out and Thor hits the corner. T-Bone turns Thor around and throws a chop of his own.)

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Axis: Uh oh...

(Thor no-sells the chop and then rears back and fires a right hand the knocks T-Bone down to the ground. He then picks T-Bone up by the hair and then brings him over to the ropes. He whips T-Bone in and gets his arm ready for a lariat, but then T-Bone ducks that shot and runs the opposite ropes. Thor turns around and lifts his foot up for the Big Boot, but T-Bone then reaches up and grabs the leg. He wags his finger at Thor and then trips his other leg to put him on his back, and then he drops the elbow across the leg. He gets up and picks the leg back up and does it again. He then gets up and does the same thing for a third time.)

Axis: T-Bone is showing us why he could be a force to be reckoned with. Since he is facing a larger man, his power moves won’t work, so he needs to use his brain and attack a weak point. This being his leg.

King: Watch out for his Achilles Heel!

Edwin: Dude, not funny...

(T-Bone then sits and waits for Thor to shake off the leg, and then as he gets to a knee, he moves toward Thor and dropkicks the knee. It won’t put the big man down, so T-Bone bounces off the ropes and then kicks him in the back of the knee. T-Bone then grabs around his neck and brings him over with a snapmare. He then bounces of the ropes and hits a twisting elbow right the knee of Thor.)

Axis: There’s the Power Drive Elbow, this time focused on the knee, to emphasize T-Bone’s goal for the match. He wants Thor to be down for the remainder of the match.

Edwin: What a smart guy...T-Bone just needs to show up now-a-days...

King: IS THAT A SHOOT?

Edwin: Is your mom a ho?

King: Well...

(T-Bone grabs Thor’s leg and pulls him self towards the center of the ring. He wraps himself around one of Thor’s legs, brings the other one perpendicular to it, and then falls down and presses down on the leg with his leg for the Figure-Four Leglock. T-Bone pulls back on the straight leg to put more pressure on that leg. Thor then falls backwards and the ref makes the count...)

ONE!

TWO!

THREE...NO!

(Thor gets the shoulder up. Thor then sits up and T-Bone slaps him in the face to try and put him down, but in retaliation, Thor grabs T-Bone around the neck with one of his long arms. T-Bone has to break the hold as Thor keeps the choke, and then they get to a standing position. Thor then lifts him up and slams him on his back with the Chokeslam. Thor takes the time to try and shake his knee out to lose some pain.)

Axis: CHOKESLAM! What a counter to the Figure Four. It’s all about heart. Thor has that. Will it be enough?

King: I think so. I don’t care if the fans like Thor. I just hate T-Bone...

Edwin: Well, your man is doing pretty well...

(Thor picks up T-Bone and gets him in the vertical suplex position. He lifts T-Bone up and holds him up in the air as flash bulbs go off at the impressive move. Suddenly, Thor’s leg gives way and T-Bone flips out behind Thor. He gets Thor in the Full Nelson...)

Axis: THE MARINADER IS COMING!

(Thor then breaks the hold by bringing his arms forward. He goes behind and grabs T-Bone around the waist, but T-Bone tries pressing down and the hands to break, but Thor is too strong. And he grabs his own Full Nelson to try and bring T-Bone into submission.)

Axis: FULL NELSON! NEVER SINCE THE BERZERKER...

Edwin: Oh my God...he did NOT just say that...

King: Whoa...dude, not cool.

(T-Bone then sits down and brings Thor with him, and then rolls back and kicks Thor in the face. This breaks the hold, but T-Bone is holding his neck from the pain. Thor quickly recovers and is ready for T-Bone to turn around. T-Bone turns around and Thor charges at him and absolutely FLOORS T-Bone with a Clothesline From Hell.)

Axis: LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

King: From Hell...

Edwin: OH TAG! Puro man has returned!

(Thor quickly covers.)

ONE!

TWO!

2.9999999999999999!

(T-Bone barely raises that left shoulder as Thor is beyond belief. Thor gets up and waits for T-Bone to get to his feet. T-Bone gets to his feet as Thor charges, but T-bone ducks out and turns around, grabbing Thor around the waist from the back, and putting his head under his arm. He lifts Thor in the air and tosses him behind himself, dropping Thor right on the back of his head, rolling him over his own neck.)

Axis: DANGEROUS BACKDROPPPPPPPPPPPAHHHHHHHHHHH!

King: HOLY SHIT!

Edwin: Ditto...

(T-Bone then wastes no time in going right back to the knee, by turning Thor over and applying a legvine. He torques the move a little more by twisting the ankle with his free hand.)

Axis: T-Bone is going right back to that knee. He wants to keep the big man grounded.

Edwin: It’s working. I’ll give him that.

King: Thor needs to get back to being big and powerful.

(T-Bone then releases the hold and picks Thor up by the neck. He throws a couple elbow strikes to stagger him and then bounces off the ropes and readies a lariat. Thor just swats the attempt away and kicks T-Bone in the stomach. While hunched over, T-Bone is brought into the powerbomb position. Thor brings T-Bone and then throws T-Bone down on his back.)

Axis: POWERBOMB! Thor is back!

King: He never left.

Edwin: Oh shit...

(Thor then picks T-Bone up and makes a slashing motion across his throat. Calling for the finish, he kicks T-Bone in the stomach to hunch him over, and then puts him in the same powerbomb position. He then lifts T-bone up vertically, jumps in the air, and spikes T-Bone with a jumping piledriver.)

Axis: THE RAGNAROK! THE RAGNAROK!

Edwin: Oh shit...T-Bone is gonna be gone...

King: FINISH HIM!

(Thor signals to the turnbuckles and shakes out his knee to test his ability to fly. He decides he can and heads to the top. He throws his hands in the air and leaps off with a Savage Elbow...that misses. The missed elbow drop shakes the ring like nothing else...)

Axis: OH MY GOD! THE CRACK OF THUNDER MISSES!!!!!

Edwin: T-Bone is ready to come back!

(T-Bone gets to his feet as he waits for Thor to get to his. He bounces off the ropes and gets ready to hit a lariat, but Thor ducks. T-Bone bounces off the opposite ropes as Thor lifts his leg in the air to hit the Big Boot again. Again, T-Bone grabs the leg, but instead of tripping him up, he twists his body and brings the leg over his own body, turning Thor’s knee badly in the process.)

Axis: DRAGON SCREW!

Edwin: Oh. NOW I know what this looks like...

King: Is what I think is coming...actually coming...I hope not.

Axis: Yes, sir...

(T-Bone waits as Thor gets to one knee. T-Bone then runs at Thor, vaults off of his bad knee with one leg and then snaps his knee across Thor’s face.)

Axis: SHINING WIZARD!!!!!

Edwin: Whoa...nice.

King: AH SHIT!

(T-Bone then grabs Thor’s legs and puts one of his legs through. He crosses Thor’s legs and turns him over onto his back. He rears back and pulls on the bad leg.)

Axis: THE SHARPSHOOTER! Thor’s knee has to be killing him! This might be it!

King: GET OUT THOR!

(T-Bone yells out as he tries to keep the hold on the much larger Thor. Thor pulls and tries to grab the ropes, but T-Bone steps out towards the center and pulls Thor back to the center of the ring. Thor tries again valiently, but his knee just gives out and he taps.)

DING! DING! DING!

Axis: THOR TAPPED! HE TAPPED TO THE SHARPSHOOTER!

Edwin: I can’t believe it...

(T-Bone releases the hold as Thor holds his knee in pain.)

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner of the match, by submission, and moving on to the Round of 8...The Steak Sauce Covered Bastard...TEEEE-BOOOOONE!

Axis: T-Bone is ready for any challenge thrown at him! He wants that title with a PASSION!

King: I don’t want no steak sauce covered bastard as a champ...

Edwin: Maybe we need to rename the title the A-1 Title...hmmmmmm....

Axis: Regardless, T-Bone is moving on to the Round of 8. Our final qualifying match will take place NEXT, on WRATH!

(The camera fades out on a smiling T-Bone in the ring...)

July 3, 2002

Promo: Tensions

*~* Commercials cut to show Jacob Helmsley, fresh off of his victory, and his manager Fred Hallbrook walking through the halls to their awaiting car, carrying behind them several suitcases full of their things. Wandering aimlessly through the halls, they finally reach their destination… a Deep Green 2001 Dodge Ram, with the License plate reading ‘Pscho Mnts’ Fred and Jacob both put their things into the bed of the oversized pickup, and begin to get in the truck, when all of the sudden, Jacob pulls off his face mask and forcefully throws it down into the bed of the truck. The camera pans up to Jacob’s face, expecting to see a scarred, burnt up face, but instead showing a small, freshly made cut below his right lip, and a miraculously unburies, completely healed mouth. Jacob looks up at Fred, and begins to talk to him. *~*

“Fred… what the fuck was that back there?”

*~* Fred looks over at his client from the other side of the truck, and answers him. *~*

“What the fuck was what, Jacob?”

*~* With a bit of anger in his poison green eyes, Jacob looks back at his partner in crime, and replies to him. *~*

“Back in the ring Hallbrook. Back in the ring when you said that the title was coming home… around your waist… What the FUCK was that?!”

*~* Fred flashes an arrogant smile at him, and replies back to his client *~*

“Oh that? That was nothing. It was just a statement to get these fucking Canadians something to bitch about for the next couple of days…”

*~* Jacob looks back at Fred with a look of even more hatred, as he shouts back at him. *~*

“These fucking Canadians?! What is that supposed to mean! I am ONE of these Canadians! I was raised RIGHT HERE IN CANADA! Don’t you EVER say that AGAIN!”

*~* Fred fired a look of anger back at Jacob, as he speaks to his client in a cool, calm voice. *~*

“Jacob… I am going to say this slowly… and as calm as I can make it… They… those Canadians… are the reason why you are the way you are. They are the reason why you are the Psycho Mantis… they are the reason why you have no care in this world… they are the reason why you attack people without provocation… and enjoy every single minute of it… Jacob… Those… brothers… as you like to call them… are the definition of the enemy. Those… Canadians… are the reason why you became the most lethal fighting machine in the SJL.”

*~* Jacob merely stares angrily into his manager, as Fred continues talking. *~*

“Now Jacob… you listen to me… and you listen good… You will NEVER AGAIN… raise your voice to me… do you hear me? I… am the reason why you are one step closer to attaining the biggest prize in the SJL… and I am the reason why people fear you so much… and I am the reason why you will become even bigger than the HVille Thugg himself… but it all depends on one thing Jacob… You. You might think that you don’t need me… you might think that you are better off alone than with someone else… but face the facts Jacob… alone… you are weak. Together… you and I are unstoppable. Jacob… If you EVER… raise your voice to me again… I will make sure that you NEVER hold that SJL World Championship… I will make sure that you NEVER find yourself in the Main Event… and I will make DAMN sure… that you never make it into the big leagues.”

*~* With his gaze meeting eye to eye with his Managers, Jacob Helmsley stands perfectly still, as Fred gets into the passenger side of the truck’s cab. *~*

“Get into the car Jacob… we need to discuss things back at the Hotel.”

*~* Jacob looks down at the silhouette of his manager, and with a deep gruff in his tone, slumps down into the driver side of the truck’s cab. Jacob starts up the car, and drives off into the cool Canadian night, as the camera shot follows them until they’re out of sight. The camera then switches back to the announcer’s table, to show Axis, Edwin MacPhisto, and the Suicide King sitting there in shock over what they have just seen. Edwin begins to talk, as behind them, the crowd reacts negatively to the promo they just saw on the big screen as well. *~*

“Axis… King… tell me I just didn’t see that… Jacob’s face… looked… normal…”

*~*Axis looks over at his counterpart and replies. *~*

“I wish we didn’t see that… there is much more going on between Jacob and Fred than we all thought…”

*~* Edwin looks back at the camera in front of the table, as King and Axis talk to each other quietly so no one can hear them. *~*

“Ok folks… we have to take a commercial break… Axis, King, and I will all be here to bring you live commentary, as this Tournament night goes on… right after this~”

*~* The scene fades out, as in the background, the trio at ringside is still discussing the aftermath of the promo, as the crowds behind them are getting up to get drinks and that sort. *~*

July 3, 2002

The commercial break ends as the screen goes back onto the sold crowd of Canada, getting a scarce but well deserved entertainment injection that is the JL!

“Welcome back to SJL Wrath ladies and gentlemen! With the exception of tonight’s main event, we have completed round one of the tournament to declare the New World champion!” Axis says with a recap.

“The Franchise Mak Francis takes on Renegade. I’m telling you, Francis is right, he is going to do the thing that Renegade has never done and that is to win all three titles at the same time, and that is a true grand slam champion!” King says excitedly.

“The Franchise didn’t seem to be in any doubt of accomplishing his goals either, as he addressed the fans that he would indeed win all three titles at the same time.” Edwin adds.

“PICK UP THE PACE!”

“(SIC)” thunders from the speakers. Renegade starts to make his way to the ramp, as he takes a few small steps, his head bent down as the only movement that can be visible is his ribcage slowly moving up and down from respiration. Renegade lifts his head up high, alongside his arms as they surpass over his head in a self high-five. Renegade finalises the stance as the pyro detonates into a cloud of red mist.

“The following match is scheduled for one fall, and the winner of this match will proceed to round two of the SJL World Title tournament. Introducing first, making his way to the ring at two hundred and sixty pounds, from New York City…RENNEGAAAADE!”

Renegade begins to stride his way down the ramp…to a shockingly warm response from the crowd. If all this surprises Renegade he has a good way of not showing it, as he rolls into the ring and mounts the second turnbuckle to deliver another self high-five.

“Quite surprising the pop that Renegade just got when he walked into the arena.” Axis says.

“I guess when you can choose between Renegade or the sWo member Mak Francis he’s the lesser of two evils.” Edwin suggests.

“Are you Ready?”

“Down With The Sickness” seeps into the Dome, accompanied by the synthesised voice.

“Are you Ready?”

The voice repeats itself once more then replaced by a brutal shriek.

“Cause the Franchise is Here!”

The sequence completes, as Mak’s initials cover up the titatron. The Franchise makes his way onto the ramp as he fashions both of his beloved title belts on his shoulders. The crowd’s response so horrendously filled with hate it almost makes Renegade look like a messiah.

“And his opponent, from Philadelphia PA, weighing in at two hundred and sixty pounds, he is the SJL Television and the SJL European chammmpion… “THE FRANCHISE” MMMMMMMAK FRRRANCISSS!” Funyon howls as he sits down, knowing that for the time being his work is done.

“When I see this man, I see a true champion. He holds both the TV and Euro belts in his possession; the last man to ever achieve such a status is Stryke. And just think if he won all three of the JL’s belts, a status that only Xstasy can claim to in the JL!” King rants.

“As you did hear earlier tonight folks, The Franchise did seem to vent much steam at Renegade, you’ve just got to wonder how will this affe…” Axis is cut off as Renegade makes his move.

Before Mak can even allow himself to make a proper entrance, he is assaulted by Renegade who has sprawled to the outside. To no surprise Mak is taken totally by stupefaction as Renegade begins to plough through Mak’s head with crude right knuckles. Both belts slip off Mak’s shoulders from the sudden burst of movement as he still left dumbstruck from Renegade’s onslaught. Renegade ends his impromptu brawl and flings Mak under the bottom rope, sending him aching into the ring. The ref can see all hell has broken loose, so he doesn’t wait one second further, calling for the bell:

DING! DING! DING!

Mak heaves back onto his feet, but only to be the target of another lethal right hand by Renegade. Renegade is literally punching the living daylights out of Mak; delivering hard right fists to his temple, as each punch is jolting Mak further back towards the corner. With one well placed shot in the kisser, Mak is smacked in the corner, and hits his head on the top turnbuckle. Mak slumps down in the corner as Renegade holds his hand over the nearby rope, getting good leverage as he begins to stomp a crater in Mak’s body. Renegade pulls Mak to his feet with a sharp tug at his arm, turning it into a whip to the opposite corner. Mak bypasses it to a whip of his own, sending Renegade to the turnbuckle. Mak dashes outwards, but is cut short by Renegade, who takes Mak down a clothesline. Mak pops back up to get another shot at Renegade but BAM! Another extended arm from Renegade levels Mak back on the canvas. Renegade spares the time to lower his fists towards Mak’s downed body and show just how he feels by extending his middle finger. Oddly the crowd retort to this ill-mannered behaviour with a pop as Renegade covers Mak in a pin:

ONE!

TW- Kickout by Mak.

“Renegade just exploding with right hands.” Axis says.

“I didn’t think Renegade would be oh so pleased by that promo Mak did earlier.” Edwin replies

“They didn’t even start and Renegade went for the attack! If that’s not cheating I don’t know what is!” King says.

Renegade picks Mak up by the jaw and drives his elbow right into the back of Mak’s neck. Mak’s nerves begin to spasm out of control again as he’s floored back down to the mat. Renegade picks Making up and drives those elbow bones back into the Renegade’s neck, sending him back down, leaving his central nervous system numb with mixed messages. Renegade revolves Mak onto his back and places his forearm over Mak’s chest in a pin:

ONE!

TWO! Shoulder up from the Franchise.

Renegade, still saturated with virgin dynamism slopes forward to grab Mak by his hair to pull him back up. Mak thrusts his right forward with his fingers drawn out, digging into Renegade’s eye sockets with a poke to the eye. Renegade immediately withdraws as he screens his face with his hands, as a sharp stinging discomfort flows through his right eye. Renegade removes his hands from his face, only to see Mak’s forearm zooming towards him with bullet acceleration. Mak pushes downwards with his tibia bone, pressing it against Renegade’s skull which sends Renegade down and out on the canvas with a flying forearm. Mak makes the pin:

ONE!

TW- Kickout!

“Mak managing to get back at Renegade, but having needing to use an eye poke do so!” Axis says.

“Cheating cheating pants on fire…wait that’s not it…” Edwin says doubtfully.

“So he hit a little thumb to the eye, this man a double champion! I never saw Renegade have two belts at the same time!” King says.

Mak takes one wading breath and reaches out for out Renegade’s head, pulling him up to his feet. Renegade tries his luck and swings his arm aimlessly, but due to his temporarily blurry vision, he misses Mak entirely. Mak quickly swivels behind Renegade and jabs him with the tip of his boot. Mak wraps his arm around Renegade’s shoulder and he interlocks his leg over Renegade’s on the same side of his body. The Franchise plucks backwards, towing Renegade down and plunging him onto his head and lower back. Mak covers Renegade, pinning his shoulders onto the mat:

ONE!

TWO!

T- Kickout.

Mak instantaneously steers himself towards the right side of Renegade’s body and lands an elbow into Renegade’s arm. Renegade winces in agony as Mak drops down again into the arm.

“Mak targeting Renegade’s right arm, cause he know that Renegade is a right handed competitor. He’s showing us all his superior technical ability, cause that’s the type of wrestler we need to be the next world champion!” King says smugly.

“Yup, and I guess that very ILLEGAL poke to the eye didn’t help him at all did it?” Edwin says, brimming with sarcasm.

“Of course not.” King replies.

After a couple of elbow drops Mak pulls Renegade back up to his feet and pitches him towards the rope in an Irish whip, but Renegade sidesteps to counter it into a whip of his own. Mak ricochets off the ropes as Renegade inclines his body, lying in waiting for the rebounding Franchise. Just before the contact, Mak slides forward; falling on his back, but wrenching Renegade’s arm out of its socket in an arm hold drop takedown. Mak continues to hyperextend that arm, as Renegade winces with every second that goes by. The ref goes down to his knees and locks eyes with Renegade, constantly asking him if he will say uncle or not. As the hold progresses, Mak begins to rest his legs over the top rope; really wrenching the arm to breaking point. The ref suddenly notices this blatant deceit and kicks the Franchise’s legs off the ropes. Mak squints in disgust towards the ref, as the ref reminds him that breaking the rules will end in disqualification and thus taking him out of the tournament. Despite his prick attitude the Franchise sees some sense in these words, and pulls Renegade back from the mat.

Again Mak targets that left arm and twists it180 degrees around its joint. Mak drives his free elbow right into the bone as Renegade grits his teeth. The Franchise begins to tug on Renegade’s captured arm, pulling Renegade forwards in an attempt to dislocate his arm. Renegade wails horrendously as Mak repeats the process, again and again. Renegade can feel his right arm crackle as The Franchise latches himself onto the arm with repeated strikes. Mak prepares to pull down on the arm again, but Renegade uses his weaker and usually unused left arm, and drives it straight into Mak’s nose. Mak automatically releases the hold as he instinctively brings his arms up to shield his face, allowing Renegade to stoop down and fire forward. Renegade sweeps at Mak’s exposed gut with his shoulder, and pushes him up to the corner, following it by a hard shoulder thrust to the mid section, pressing and grinding his shoulder blade against his stomach. After a few repeated stabs, Renegade locks his arms under Mak’s shoulder, and with a hard pull he manages to flip the Franchise onto his back with a hip-toss. Renegade shakes his arm, trying to loosen his arm from the torment that it has endured before making a cover:

ONE!

TWO!

T- Shoulder up!

“Mak really trying to do some serious damage to Renegade’s right arm, but Renegade comes back with that hip-toss.” Axis says.

“The Franchise is a genius I tell you! Renegade’s entire arsenal of moves requires the use of his arms, by working on the arm The Franchise can decimate Renegade.” King says.

Mak tries to scramble back to his feet, but is gunned down and back onto his stomach as Renegade sinks his kneecap into the back of The Franchise’s neck. Mak again with dogged determination tries to pull back up, but once again Renegade’s knee pierces into the neck of the double champ. Renegade bolts towards the ropes, which gives Mak the chance he needs to escape Renegade’s clutches. Mak has only managed to pull himself up halfway when Renegade reaches back from the ropes. Mak tries to get himself upright post haste but THUD! The back of Mak’s head hits the canvas hard as Renegade darts out with both arms open, bulldozing The Franchise down in a spear. Renegade makes another cover:

ONE!

TWO!

TH- Shoulder up!

The Franchise tries to haul back up, again only half way up from a full vertical base. Renegade jumps upward with his knee sticking out, and slings his arm over Mak’s neck. This pulls Mak’s face down, as Renegade punctures Mak’s face, crushing it with his knee. Mak falls onto his back from the blow as Renegade pulls himself to one knee. Renegade thinks to himself, intent to pack in more power to get that three count. Renegade takes a quick trip to the ropes, and comes back by making an incredible jump as he flings his leg outwards. Renegade comes down shrewdly with a 260 pound leg drop onto The Franchise’s windpipe. Mak spouts off a breathless gasp as Renegade makes another cover:

ONE!

TWO!

THR- Nope, Mak kicks out.

“Huge legdrop from Renegade, but still not enough impact there to put Mak away.” Axis says.

“What’s that you said about Renegade not being able to attack King?” Edwin says with a grin.

“Bah…” King grumbles, muttering other profanities under his breath.

After a couple of vicious stomps, Renegade pulls Mak up to his feet and steers him to the ropes with an Irish whip. Renegade comes to an aching halt, as by pulling The Franchise’s body in a whip his own arm is put back into more pressure. The whip is killed off prematurely, allowing The Franchise to reverse the whip. Mak clutches Renegade in a front waist-lock, and with a huge amount of pressure and momentum, Mak chucks Renegade over his shoulder in a Belly to Belly. Renegade lands shrewdly on his back as The Franchise rolls onto Renegade’s stomach for a pin attempt:

ONE!

TWO!

THR- Kickout!

Renegade manages to bring himself up to his knees, as Mak sprints tot he ropes behind Renegade. The Franchise jumps forwards, tugging onto Renegade’s hair as he makes a landing, causing Renegade’s face to be impaled into the mat again. Determined to get through this round of the tournament, Th Franchise makes a lateral press. The ref goes to count the pin:

ONE!

TWO!

THR- Shoulder up from Renegade!

“The Franchise regains control of the match, all thanks to the number that he did to his arms.” Axis says.

“Well I hate to say this but The Franchise is actually playing fair right now!” Edwin replies.

“Like he needs to cheat anyway. He had this match won right from the get go.” King adds.

Mak pauses for a second, thinking his next move. After a split second of thought, The Franchise nears the turnbuckle. Mak scales to the top turnbuckle and takes a quick glance at the fallen Renegade to make sure he isn’t playing possum. After reassuring himself, The Franchise hurdles in the air with is left elbow extended. The elbow drills through Renegade’s chest as Renegade vociferates with pain. Mak follows it up with a pin:

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- Shoulder up!

Mak begins to hammer away at Renegade’s chest with his boot, pissed at the fact that the match isn’t over yet. After venting out his frustration Mak pulls Renegade up by the up and whips him towards the corner. Renegade lands into the turnbuckle pads as Mak races towards Renegade, but Renegade brings his leg up, rattling The Franchise in the face with his boot. Mak totters back as Renegade knows its now or never. Renegade makes a lunatic dash towards Mak, but the Franchise cycles around the incoming Renegade, and with a vice like grip, Mak wraps both of his arms around Renegade’s waist. Mak tows onto Renegade’s body a heavy heave, hitting an ultra polished German suplex. Renegade lands crudely on his shoulders, as Mak brings himself and Renegade back up again with the waist lock still firmly in place. Another German suplex is made, which again jars Renegade’s head across the canvas. The Franchise pulls Renegade up once more, but quickly rearranges the waistlock to Renegade’s neck and shoulder, converting it into a Cobra Clutch.

“THE MILLION DOLLAR EXEMPTION!” Axis booms.

“It ends right here, Renegade looses, and the Franchise goes through to the next round!” King says.

“Nice little switcharoo there by the Franchise.” Edwin states.

Unfortunately for Mak, the ropes are already oh so close to Renegade, which allows him to grasp the ropes with both hands. Irate, The Franchise refuses to let the hold go, even with warnings from the ref. The ref calls for a disqualification count:

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIV-

The Franchise grudgingly, releases the hold to save his skin from disqualification. But suddenly Mak reinstates the hold back on Renegade and pulls him away from the ropes. The Franchise tows backwards as the Cobra Clutch still remains intact. Renegade is plastered across the canvas in a most destructive display of a Cobra Clutch suplex. The Franchise hooks Renegade’s leg up for yet another pin:

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- NO! Renegade kicks out!

Mak is beside himself with rage and quickly springs up to his feet, signalling Renegade’s body to the crowd. The Franchise hauls Renegade up and slides Renegade’s head under his armpit. Mak wraps his arm around Renegade’s head; both men lock up in a suplex position.

“The Franchise going for the Franchise tag, he gets this and its all over!”

Mak makes a tug at Renegade trunks, and another, but Renegade isn’t budging. To everyone’s amazement, Renegade lifts Mak up, and applies a headlock, as at the same time he grabs onto Mak’s attire, getting him in a suplex position. Renegade makes a sharp tug as Mak goes spine first into the canvas with a snap suplex. Mak holds his back in sheer anguish as Renegade picks him back up, locking on another headlock. Renegade drags him along to the corner, with Renegade’s back towards the turnbuckles. Renegade makes another grabs for Mak’s attire and “OOOOOOHHHHHHHH” The crowd watch, in a sickening yet most satisfying sight as with a jerk, Renegade performs a snap suplex…right into the top two turnbuckles! Renegade lays down on the mat, exhausted and weary as at the same time The Frachise lands on the mat head first, he backbone writhing in agony. The ref sees both men down, and although knowing a double DQ isn’t possible (seeing as how one man has to go through), he counts for a knockout and hopes it will might make them stir back to the life again.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

The trick seems to work, as both men indeed do wearily get back to their feet. Renegade is the quicker man up, as he crouches in waiting for Mak to get up. When he does Renegade fires his foot forward, setting him up for Renebreak, but The Franchise darts his hands forwards and rakes his fingers into Renegade’s eyes for a second time. Renegade stumbles forward as the Franchise opens his arms apart and hits yet another Belly to Belly suplex.

“Renegade has taken such a beating at the hands of The Franchise and I think that eye rake destroyed any remaining chance of him getting in that Renebreak.” Axis says.

Mak makes a lateral press with another pin:

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- NO! A shoulder up!

Mak has just about had enough as he blames the only the person he can rather than himself, the referee! The Franchise begins to mouth off the referee, complaining that his pin count was too slow. As the bickering continues, Renegade all the time he needs to regroup. Renegade wraps his arm over Mak’s neck from behind and hauls him off his feet. Renegade heaves The Franchise up and over in clockwise motion, flattening Mak on his stomach in a reverse suplex. Renegade covers:

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

The ref suddenly is dragged to the outside!

The camera pans out to show none other than The Franchise’s sWo stablemate Poisyn. Before the ref can even begin to bicker, Poisyn nails the ref down out and cold with a forearm to the face.

“Poisyn just screwed Renegade out of the win! The ref is out, there is nobody to call the pin count!” Axis says

“CHEA-TER!” Edwin chants.

Renegade gets back up from The Franchise’s body just to see what happened to the ref and BAM! Poisyn waffles Renegade right between the eyes with the TV title (which he acquired on his way to the ring). Renegade is out on the mat cold as Poisyn scales up the turnbuckle. Poisyn nosedives down as he soars, and just manages to quickly flip onto his back, driving the air out of Renegade in a five star senton bomb.

“THE CRAWLING! POISYN JUST HIT HIS FINISHER!” Axis screeches.

“This is over.” Edwin says

“It doesn’t matter whether you cheat or not, the important thing is that the sWo clean house!” King grins.

Poisyn goes to pull Mak’s body onto Renegade’s but BAM! Out of nowhere, a figure nails Poisyn over the head with a glimmering object.

“C.I.A! C.I.A just nailed Poisyn with the European belt!”

“Hurrah!” Edwin rejoices.

“This is not happening!” King says.

Poisyn rolls to the outside from the impact of the belt shot, as The Franchise himself is finally beginning to get back up. C.I.A locks in a body clutch with The Franchise and falls onto his back, propelling Mak’s face into the canvas with great force. The Franchise rolls onto his front from the pressure as C.I.A rolls out of the ring, leaving the Dome a screaming mess.

“VIA RAIL! C.I.A just made the save, taking out both Poisyn and The Franchise!” Axis says.

“Why isn’t the ref stopping this?” King asks

“Because Poisyn knocked him out remember?” Edwin smirks.

The seconds pile up, but both Renegade and Mak are out cold and the ref is still unconscious on the outside. After a lengthy amount of time, both men are up on their feet, beaten and broken but somebody has to go through to the next round. They engage in an all out fistfight, both men using their hands as simple tools of destruction. Renegade begins to show he is the superior brawler, but by excessive punching the pain in his right arm suddenly return, causing the frequency and strength of Renegade’s punches to decline. The Franchise eventually overpowers Renegade and whips him towards the ropes, but Renegade counters. Mak comes racing back and WHAM! Renegade cradles The Franchise in his arms and flattens him spine down in a powerslam. Renegade can see the ref gradually becoming conscious again. Renegade hooks up the leg again:

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- NO!

Renegade wipes the collected sweat off his forehead as The Franchise gets back up, very groggy and his back is facing Renegade. Mak slowly turns around, as Renegade throws his leg forward with all his might and…Mak ducks! The Franchise stoops down, and hits his arm where the son don’t shine in a low blow. Renegade is left open jawed as Mak pulls at Renegade’s legs and uproots him from the mat, pinning him on his shoulders in a rollup, Mak begins to pull Renegade’s trunks as high he can to ensure those shoulders stay down. Renegade kicks his free legs madly to break free.

“The Franchise uses that low blow to save his skin from the Renebreak!” Axis says.

“Damn this guy is using just about every trick in the book…you train him King?” Edwin says.

“Renegade is outta here!” King says happily.

The ref counts for the pin, but still visibly stunned by that shot by Poisyn:

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- Kick-out!

Mak immediately goes for Renegade’s head and puts him into a suplex position, visibly pissed to the max. The Franchise goes for the “Franchise Tag”. Mak goes to lift Renegade up, but he is just too fatigued to lift up his taller and heavier adversary. Out of nowhere, Renegade slips his head out of the headlock that confined him to the suplex position orbits behind The Franchise. Mak turns around to correct his error but Renegade brings his forward in fast short-ranged kick. Renegade’s toes stab into Mak’s gut, causing him to buckle over. Renegade turns his back towards his foe, bringing his arms backwards, attempting to lock in a ¾ facelock over his opponent. Mak snaps down onto the canvas as the crowd cheer for the finisher.

“RENEBREAK! THE FRANCHISE TAG WAS COUNTERED INTO THE RENEBREAK!” Axis hollers.

“No! This cant be it!” King says worriedly.

The ref, now fully recovered from the blow, makes the count as Renegade hooks The Franchise’s leg up in the air:

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

“Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner…RENNNNNEGAAADE!”

“(SIC)” blares over again as The ref drops to his knee to lift Renegade’s arm up in victory. Renegade slowly crawls out of the ring as he makes his way backstage, looking at the hordes of fans that are applauding him. Renegade reaches the ramp and does one last flip off in the direction of The Franchise’s downed body in the ring before he makes his way backstage.

“Renegade goes through! The Franchise is out! Mak used just about every cheat he could imagine, but Renegade survives!” Axis says

“C.I.A makes the save for Renegade after the run in from Poisyn.” Edwin says as the replay of C.I.A’s entrance is shown.

“What the hell just happened? WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?” King says furiously.

“We’re running of time for tonight folks, see on Wrath, this is Axis wishing you a goodnight!” Axis trails off as the camera fades to black.

The last shot the camera shows is Mak face down on the canvas, crushed by a terrible sense of defeat. The dream of becoming a triple champion for the time being is over…

(Fade to black)

July 3, 2002

Results!

SJL WORLD TITLE TOURNEY

Bracket 1 singles match

Jacob Helmsley v “The Rising Sun” Y2K

-Jake prevails! He bad to the bone, yo!

Bracket 2 singles match

Mike Van Siclen v Fugue

-Fugue makes MVS t-t-t-t-t-t-tap! Serves ya right, you goofy foo!

Bracket 3 singles match

Sydney Sky v Kojack

-No one shows up...the Crimson card will change appropriately.

Bracket 4 singles match

Poisyn v CIA

-CIA makes the hometown crowd happy and advances! But who's he gonna face?

Bracket 5 singles match

Silent v Cutthroat

-Cutthroat gets so close, but Silent debuts the Demonstar Driver and it's all over. Meanie.

Bracket 6 singles match

Venom v “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins

-WOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEEE! Hey hey hey, it's H-S-J!

Bracket 7 singles match

Thor v T-Bone

-Thor gets roasted. The Boner moves on...

Main Event - Bracket 8 non-title singles match

Renegade v “The Franchise” Mak Francis

-Excellent match that shows Renegade advancing...how he does it is interesting, though.

Card will obviously hinge on the CIA/Poisyn match and a couple other things. It'll be up as soon as I can make it, but don't wait up.

SJL Wrath - Tuesday, July 2nd

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