WWA: Underground
April 10, 2010 - Episode #112
Live from the Blackham Coliseum in Lafayette, LA
Chapter I
Grant Vs Hendrick
Trudeau: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing
first, from Houston Texas, weighing in at 250 pounds, Hendrick!
“Coming Undone” plays and RJ Stone’s second in command confidently
strides out from the back; he is clad in simple black half tights,
black knee and elbow pads and black boots. The crowd boos as he
purposefully makes his way to the ring.
Jack: There he is, the leader of RJ Stone’s security team.
Denrol: He agreed to face the United States champion this week after
Grant challenged him. Let’s see if this guy has it in the ring.
Hendrick wastes no time in rolling under the bottom rope and standing
in the ring. The crowd boos more at RJ’s attack dog but almost
immediately pop as a lone bell tolls. It tolls again.
Trudeau: And introducing next, he is your WWA Uniiiiited states
championnnnnnn, from San Francisco, California, weighing in at 227
pounds, The Lionnnnnnn Johnnnnnn Grannnnnnnnnt!
The hard guitar riffs of "Hells Bells" by AC/DC play, the stage is
criss-crossed by blue and yellow lights and lasers. The bells
eventually cease, and as the music picks up, a spotlight appears, and
John Grant stands there. His arms crossed in front of him in an X
shape, with his fists balled, he holds the pose for a moment, and then
stretches his arms out to his sides, as far as they'll extend. Just
before the lyrics start, Grant can be seen speaking a single word.
Grant: YEAH!
I'm a rolling thunder
A pouring rain
I'm coming on like a hurricane
My lightning's flashing across the sky
You're only young, but you're gonna die
Jack: The US champ looks focused here, Denrol. He has a serious bone
to pick with RJ Stone’s head of security.
Denrol: And after earning the number one contender’s spot by beating
Lucas Black I’m sure he’s got all the confidence in the world.
Grant starts making his way to the ring, his attention fully focused
on front of him. Halfway up the ramp, he stops, and raises his right
arm, fist held high to the sky. He holds that pose for a moment before
continuing on his way to the ring.
I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives
Nobody's putting up a fight
I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell
I'm gonna get you, Satan get you
HELLS BELLS!
About this time, Grant has reached the ring, and he's mouthing the
words "Hells Bells" along with the song. Entering the ring, he makes
his way to the far corner, and lifts himself onto the second
turnbuckle, again lifting his right fist high, and straight, into the
air. Then he moves back down to the ring canvas, getting into his
corner and rolling his shoulders to loosen up a little before his
match. He hands the referee his US title and eyes Hendrick.
Denrol: Well, this has been a week in the making, put up or shut up
time.
Ding, Ding!
The two men immediately go nose to nose in the middle of the ring. The
crowd is screaming for Grant to tear Hendrick’s head off. They begin to
jaw with one another, Hendrick takes it to the next level when he
plants a malicious open handed slap right on the jaw of the US champ.
The crowd is immediately on Hendrick for this.
Jack: Good to see he is as upstanding in the ring as his employer is.
Denrol: Did you really expect anything less?
Hendrick stays on Grant and drives his forearm into the side of The
Lion’s head. Grant staggers as a second successive forearm hits him in
the temple. He quickly Irish whips the lion, Grant reverses and on the
rebound he nails the larger Hendrick with a huge back body drop, which
the crowd loves.
Jack: And now all Hendrick has done is light a fire under the rookie
sensation.
Hendrick stands back up only to run into a stiff body slam by Grant.
He gets up again and is dropped by a Manhattan drop followed by a
clothesline. The crowd eats this up and Grant plays to them a little
bit as Hendrick slowly climbs to his hands and knees.
Denrol: In spite of his shady past, it looks like Hendrick may have
bitten off more than he can chew by going into a pro wrestling match
with no training.
Jack: You may be right Denrol, he seems out of his element here.
Grant goes down to pick Hendrick up and the crowd is as shocked as the
referee when Hendrick delivers a devastating low blow. Grant doubles
over and crumples into a heap on the mat as Hendrick stands and
composes himself. The referee is taken back by the blatant shot and
signals for the bell, a look of confusion on his face. The crowd seems
like it’s about to riot and rain boos down on Hendrick.
Jack: What the hell was that?!
Denrol: Looks like Stone and Hendrick had a plan in place, that’s
what it was.
Ding, Ding!
Trudeau: The winner of this match, by disqualification, John Grant!
The crowd does not cheer at this though, as Hendrick is now stomping a
mud hole in the US champ. The boos grow in intensity and the bell
sounds again, the referee tries to pull Hendrick away, but just gets a
closed fist punch to the forehead for his troubles. Hendrick takes a
moment to kick the unmoving referee out of the ring and to the mat
before mounting Grant and delivering more closed fist right hands to
his head.
Jack: This is disgusting, John Grant was looking for a match tonight,
not to mention that it was probably one of the only times he’d be able
to get anyone from Stone’s camp alone!
Denrol: Looks like things are about to get much worse.
True enough, RJ Stone and Intrepid have emerged from the back; both
dressed to compete. They slowly make their way down to the ring as
Hendrick continues to lay into a defenseless Grant. The crowd boos as
the two of them methodically roll into the ring and look down on a
beaten down US champion. RJ motions for Hendrick to stand him up and
his head of security obliges, locking Grant in a full nelson. RJ
doesn’t waste a second and starts to punish the ribs of Grant with a
flurry of stiff roundhouse kicks, capping off the combination with a
spinning thrust kick. Hendrick lets Grant fall after the last kick, and
the US champ lays motionless on his side, clutching at his aching
chest.
Jack: These three snakes are brutalizing the United States champion!
This cowardly display has to stop!
Intrepid gestures to RJ and mutters some indiscernible words to Stone.
An evil grin crosses RJ’s face, he nods to Intrepid, who rolls out of
the ring and goes to grab a chair.
Jack: A steel folding chair? What the hell do these animals need with
that, there are three of them in there right now!
Denrol: I think that these two are making sure that their message
from last week is crystal clear to the WWA.
Intrepid re-enters the ring with a steel chair in hand. RJ and
Hendrick hold Grant up, one arm each. Grant’s head hangs down
lifelessly and the crowd is absolutely praying for some kind of
salvation to come. Intrepid takes a step back, drawing the chair up to
strike.
Jack: This is ridiculous! I can’t believe that - YES! YES!
The crowd begins to shout as well as Jack Griffiths and Jaymz Watkins
charge the ring at a full sprint. Stone and Hendrick drop Grant and
attempt to square off with the two men but both take clotheslines for
their troubles. Intrepid goes to swing with the chair and Watkins
plants a big boot into the chair, causing it to bounce off of
Intrepid’s face. The Hellbilly immediately rolls out of the ring,
licking his wounds.
Denrol: Looks like Griffiths and Watkins are getting a little revenge
for what happened last week.
Jack: Revenge well deserved, too.
Stone has done the same and rolls out of the ring as well. He grabs
Hendrick by the ankle and drags him out before Griffiths can get a hold
of him. The crowd is half split between Watkins and Griffiths chants
and the two men remain fired up in the middle of the ring. Stone,
Intrepid and Hendrick all slowly back up the ramp, shouting back at
Watkins and Griffiths. RJ and Intrepid both are visibly frustrated and
finally turn tail and head into the back, the crowds boos following
them. The feed stutters for a second, barely noticibly, but it rights
itself.
Jack: Hmpf, now that the numbers are even those three want nothing to
do with them.
In the ring, Griffiths and Watkins have helped Grant to his feet and
retrieve him the US title. Watkins raises Grant’s hand and the crowd
pops. Griffiths and Jaymz pat him on the back and soon enough all three
men are smiling. The feed stutters again, a lot more pronounced this
time. It settles for about two seconds before it stutters again, for
several seconds.
Jack: All right, what the hell is going on with the feed?
Denrol: Think I've got an idea who could be behind it.
Jack: Who?
Denrol: Same asshole who always is.
Jack: Hmmm. Good point. Maybe we can catch him in the act this time?
The men in the ring continue to play to the crowd.
Denrol: What are you talking about, idiot?
Jack: There's a camera guy nearby... Maybe he can find out what's
going on so we can stop it in the future?
Denrol: I'm not so sure about that.
Jack: What? I can just call him with the walkie.
Denrol: We'll see. Just got a bad feeling.
The sound of a walkie talkie coming to life can be heard, and all of a
sudden, amidst the crackling of static, men's screams can be heard.
Jack audibly gasps.
Denrol: See? I told you.
Jack: What the hell is going on?!
All of a sudden, the scene changes from the celebrating wrestlers, and
the cameraman is clearly running down a hallway, his destination
presumably the production truck. The crackling of white noise and
screams of men can be heard here, too, and every so often the feed
buffers and stutters.
Cameraman: breathlessly What the fuck's going on out here?
Finally he rounds a corner, and down the subsequent hallway is a very
large set of double doors. He bolts for them, but right as he reaches
them, they fly open and smash into the camera, sprawling it and the
operator. The feed is nearly entirely static now, with small flashes of
sense every moment or so. The camera is clearly on the ground next to
the operator, who gets to his feet, before a second pair of legs comes
in. From the way they move, one can assume off-camera the second person
has pulled the first to the side, so the shot is of a floor and wall
only now.
Cameraman: Whastaticn out thstatic
Second Man: staticShut up! Thstaticfore we knewstaticfucked up
the wholestatic
Cameraman: staticdown, man. Whostatic
Second Man: staticndy Cross andstatic
Cameraman: staticOh, mystatic
Second Man: staticout of there as faststatic
THUD!
Immediately after the unmistakable sound of the doors opening again,
one of the men sails through the shot, screaming, and the second lands
right in front of the camera, clutching his face. He looks toward the
doors, and even through the poor reception of the feed, the fear on his
face is unmistakable. Thinking quickly, he snatches up the camera and
holds it in front of his own face.
Cameraman: staticall 911, NOW! Randstaticherestaticague! He's
got ThstaticSomeone tell Jaymz Wstatic
He turns the camera toward his foes, but the image is fleeting at
best, Randy Cross's sneering face, a giant figure, glinting chrome...
The giant figure snarls and its gigantic fist collides with the camera,
reducing the feed to nothing but static and the laughter of Randy
Cross. It finally snaps back to the normal shot of the arena after a
couple of seconds, where the three faces are still playing to the
crowd. Everyone is blissfully unaware of what is coming...
Jack: Oh, my God! Someone has to warn Jaymz!
Denrol: What good would it do? This is bad for Jaymz. Really bad... I
mean, that couldn't have been what that camera guy said...
Jack: Shhh! If you don't say it, maybe it won't happen!
Denrol: ...What?
Jack: I don't know. This is bad.
After a few moments more of the men playing to the crowd, "Hey Man,
Nice Shot" by Filter begins to play, and the cheers of the fans are
predictably replaced with boos. A LOT of boos. The faces all turn their
heads immediately to the stage.
Jack: Oh, man...
Randy Cross emerges from the curtains alone, wearing an entirely black
suit save the tie, which is red. He grins from ear to ear, even as the
boos inundate him. His music dies out and he sarcastically gestures for
the crowd to quiet down, which of course draws more booing. After a few
moments, he raises the microphone he brought along to his mouth.
Cross: It's the beginning of the end for you, Jaymz, and you know it.
Heavy boos. Griffiths and Grant all look at their friend, but Jaymz is
no longer smiling. He tells them something that is too quiet to hear,
but it presumably must have been a request for them to leave, because
that's just what they do. Grant hovers for a moment, but Jaymz is a bit
more forceful this time, and can be heard.
Jaymz: I said not to worry about me, man. Don't get yourself mixed up
in this shit, too.
Grant finally leaves, and Jaymz turns his back to Cross, which draws
some cheers. The official that has been standing in the ring moves over
to check on Jaymz, but he sees the foolishness in such an act and
doesn't do so. Griffiths and Grant each give Cross the eye when they
pass, and he doesn't even look at them, continuing to stare at Jaymz.
Cross: Run along, you two. Playtime is over. back to Jaymz I've
been making your life a living hell for quite a long time, haven't I? I
know you'd like your life back, but it's not that easy. So here we
stand, at the cusp of the Final Trials. All you need to do to reclaim
your normalcy, Jaymz? beat Survive. I doubt you will.
Boos again.
Cross: And when you see what I have in store for you with the first
Trial, you'll probably shrivel up and die at the thought of the rest of
them. As I mentioned last week, this man is absolutely starved for
blood. Using my considerable resources, being a God you know, I was
able to wrest him away from the institution where he was locked up, and
I laugh just thinking about how they'll respond when they see why I
freed him.
The audience is almost electric with the buzz moving through it. They,
and Jaymz, who still hasn't turned to look at Cross, have no idea...
Cross: One ground rule before we actually get started here, and it's
an important one. There are no rules. Not tonight, nor will there ever
be during these Trials, just like the darkness in which I found you, in
which I found Copeland and this man, the darkness I call, "Home." Makes
sense considering the WWA hasn't even sanctioned the Trials, or at
least this match in particular. Without further adieu, I have unleashed
a disease into this arena, and you must cure it, as any good messiah
would. That disease, Jaymz, is... THE PLAGUE!
The audience erupts at this, and the massive man actually rips the
curtains down as he exits them, snarling like a wild bear. Jaymz bolts
around instinctively, a glimmer of fear flashing across his face.
Jack: THE PLAGUE! OH, MY GOD!
Denrol: None and done for Jaymz in his Trials. Jesus.
Chapter II
Watkins Vs The Plague
Cross laughs maniacally again, punting the microphone wildly into the
crowd, as The Plague spies Jaymz, the beady eyes beneath the chrome
mask locking onto the former champion as if he were a sizzling sirloin.
The giant barrels down to the ring, and Jaymz takes a step back. The
official leaps out of the ring in abject terror, leaving Jaymz all
alone as The Plague clambers insanely into the ring. As if they were
funeral bells for Jaymz...
Ding, Ding
Jack: And sadly we're underway.
Denrol: But for how long?
The Plague stands oddly in the ring, looking out amongst the masses
like a confused animal, as they shower him with their bile and hatred.
Jaymz has taken a ready stance, but still looks about nervously, unsure
when the first blow will fly. The Plague snarls madly, and lunges for
the smaller man across from him. Jaymz ducks the wild clothesline, and
when The Plague turns back to face Jaymz, the former World Champion
begins firing right after right into the larger man's face, which sets
the crowd into a fit of cheering. The blows are clearly stronger than
The Plague anticipated, each one staggering him further.
Jack: Whoa!
Denrol: Jaymz seems to have caught The Plague by surprise.
One big blow, and The Plague stumbles backward a bit. Jaymz lets loose
a massive superkick aimed at The Plague's head. The Plague regains his
composure almost in an instant, and he catches Jaymz's foot, to a great
deal of booing. The boos go back to cheers when Jaymz leaps and lights
up The Plague with an enziguiri right across the temple. The Plague
falls back and lands in the corner, still on his feet, shaking his
head. Jaymz stalks out, looking out to the crowd and pumping his fists.
Denrol: I guess Jaymz's plan was to come out firing regardless of the
opponent, and it seems like it was a good idea.
He stands in the corner across from The Plague and stomps his foot.
The crowd counts with each stomp, until Jaymz unleashes a loud battle
cry of his own, and hauls ass out of the corner, headed straight for
The Plague. The much larger man has another idea, however, and he comes
tear-assing out of his corner, too. Jaymz attempts to leave his feet
and crush The Plague with his Dark Water, but mistimes his jump as both
men are upon each other too quickly. The Plague's reaction is much
better, as he absolutely obliterates the airborne Jaymz with a diving
clothesline. The blow coupled with Jaymz's momentum causes him to fly
forward in as if for a shooting star press, and he lands on his stomach
in the center of the ring, unmoving.
Jack: Oh, Jesus! What a clothesline! That nearly decapitated Jaymz!
Denrol: That's less hyperbole than it sounds, honestly.
Crowd: Holy shit! Holy shit!
The official peeks his head up over the apron, far away from The
Plague, and watches what is transpiring. He is powerless, what with the
lack of rules, to stop The Plague from turning Jaymz over and mounting
him, before raining down blow after blow with fists the size of maces.
Jaymz tries to put his arms on the sides of his head to block the
blows, but each shot rocks him back and forth like a punching bag,
protected or not.
Jack: Oh, God. Those are vicious blows The Plague is delivering unto
Jaymz.
Denrol: He doesn't look like he's lost any of that murderous rage. In
fact, he seems even more frightening.
It doesn't take long for the blood to start flowing from Jaymz,
specifically from his nose and mouth and a massive cut on his forehead.
He clutches at his face, but The Plague delivers a terrifying straight
shot to Jaymz's face, and the former actor goes completely limp, the
crowd gasping at the shot.
Denrol: Oh, man, that punch was absolutely NASTY, even with Jaymz's
hands in the way.
Jack: The Plague looked like he was in MMA or something with that
blow! Oh, my!
The massive man rubs his hand across the helpless Jaymz's face,
smearing the blood all over the place. He pulls his hand away slowly,
eyeing it, and wipes the blood across his chest and singlet, then
across the chrome mask, doubling the intimidation factor. The crowd
boos this ferociously, but The Plague gives no shits about them.
Instead, he snatches up the sack of potatoes that is Jaymz at this
point, and sets him over in the corner.
Jack: It seems as if The Plague has found a way to sort of control
his insanity. Maybe it was the first taste of blood in so long?
Denrol: I doubt he went without blood the whole time he was
incarcerated.
Jack: ...A terrifyingly valid point.
The giant approaches Jaymz and slaps him lightly a few times to shake
out the cobwebs, but finds that to be ineffective, so he delivers a
much harder one that incites more booing. Jaymz looks to sort of gain
his consciousness, squinting out through the blood at his opponent,
breathing wheezily. The Plague is satisfied with this recovery, and
begins to pummel Jaymz with more punches.
Denrol: He's just tenderizing him for later.
The Plague chokes Jaymz against the top turnbuckle, and the official
pleads weakly from outside the ring for the massive man to stop, which
he of course ignores. Jaymz's arms barely move, and The Plague releases
his choke and boots Jaymz stiffly in the stomach, causing the former
actor to double over and cough up more blood, which splatters across
the ring nearby. The giant gently nudges Jaymz out of the corner. A
gentle nudge for The Plague, of course, is sprawling Jaymz on his
stomach on the canvas. He moves up behind Jaymz, the crowd frenzied in
their chanting for their downed hero.
Crowd: Let's go Jaymz! Let's go Jaymz!
Jack: Chant as they might, Jaymz is in serious trouble here right
now. He's struggling to just stand up!
Denrol: The ref's gotta consider calling this match, honestly. This
was out of hand before it even started.
Jack: I think that would be a bad decision on his part, from a safety
standpoint.
Denrol: Good call, Jack, as much as that pains me to admit.
Jaymz weakly pushes himself up to his hands and knees, coughing up
more blood. The Plague leans down and grasps him around the waist
tightly, before torquing his hips and hoisting Jaymz up and over for
one brutal German Suplex. The crowd boos heavily once more, and The
Plague gets down to cover Jaymz.
Jack: Mercifully.
The official slaps his hand on the apron for each count as he stands
outside of the ring.
One!
Two!
Thr-
Denrol: Oh, man.
Jack: The Plague halts his own pin. More punishment is imminent.
Denrol: This is a massacre.
The giant gets to his feet and picks Jaymz up with him. He goes behind
for another German, but Jaymz actually resists, reaching his hands and
legs out for the ropes and latching on. The crowd lets loose their
cheers, but The Plague stops them cold when he tugs Jaymz away from the
ropes. Then, to make matters even worse, The Plague, his back to the
ropes, pitches Jaymz like a rag doll overhead with a second German,
this time propelling Jaymz up and over the ropes to the outside, where
he lands in a motionless heap. Amidst the boos, the fans can't help but
react.
Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
Denrol: Indeed.
Jack: Jaymz has been utterly bushwhached! Can't the official do
something!? ANYTHING?!
The official hurries over to check on the fallen former actor, but he
scurries back off when the monstrous Plague follows Jaymz to the
outside. He picks Jaymz up nails him with a brutal headbutt before
ramming him into the turnbuckle pole, causing the former champion to
yelp loudly in pain.
Jack: That nearly moved the ring!
Jaymz drops to his hands and knees holding his back, and The Plague
splatters him all over the place with a stiff kick to the chest. To
make matters worse, The Plague moves away from his fallen opponent and
begins to dig under the ring for who knows what kind of instrument of
destruction.
Jack: What could he be looking - Oh, God.
Denrol: I think I've got a pretty good idea what's going to be dinner
at that table.
Sure enough, The Plague sets the table up at the side of the ring,
ensuring its stability, before moving back over to Jaymz. When he picks
the former actor up, however, Jaymz shows a bit of life, pushing The
Plague away. And by pushing away, The Plague doesn't move and Jaymz
stumbles a few feet out of reach, ending up leaning across the
barricade with his back to the giant. The Plague ponders for a moment,
before approaching Jaymz again. In a flash, the former champion smashes
what was certainly a glass beer bottle over the head of The Plague, who
stumbles backward in the shower of alcohol. The crowd loves this, even
though Jaymz falls back heavily against the barricade again, little
energy left already.
Jack: What a sneak attack! The Plague didn't even know what hit him!
Denrol: You realize Jaymz hasn't even knocked The Plague down yet?
The Plague, as Denrol so cleverly pointed out, wasn't even knocked
down by the blow. He merely was knocked back a few feet and left
clutching his head, which has begun to bleed from the blow. The Plague
looks at his own blood in his hand, and the somewhat control he'd found
earlier seems to vanish entirely. He snarls again, nearly shaking the
whole arena, and he runs full speed at Jaymz before demolishing not
only the former World Champion but the barricade upon which he rests
with a huge running body avalanche! The crowd gasps loudly once more,
before booing and "Holy shit" chanting.
Jack: Oh, my word.
Denrol: That's it. Wow.
The Plague throws his head back and hollers madly again, and the crowd
would physically attack him as he stands among them if not for how
terrifying he is. Jaymz lays amongst the remains of the barricade,
stirring only due to his breathing, which is coming in short finnicky
bursts. The Plague picks his prey up and walks back to the ring,
tossing Jaymz under the bottom rope before following. Jaymz stares
blankly up at the ceiling of the arena as The Plague drags him over to
one of the corners and props him up there. The fans are abuzz with
anticipation as the giant leaves Jaymz and walks to the far side of the
ring and begins to eye his target.
Denrol: Get off the tracks when the train's coming through.
The Plague takes off for Jaymz, who looks as if he simply collapses
from exhaustion. This is fortunate for him, as The Plague smashes into
the empty corner with the velocity of a freight train and bounces
nearly to the center of the ring from the force. The crowd goes
bonkers.
Jack: Oh, God! What a counter!
Denrol: I doubt that was intentional on Jaymz's part.
Both men remain down for a while, and the crowd begins to try and will
their hero back into the match.
Crowd: LET'S GO JAYMZ! LET'S GO JAYMZ!
Finally, Jaymz is the first to stir, and he struggles mightily to his
feet as The Plague also begins to show signs of life. Jaymz looks out
into the crowd, eyes glazed over, and their chanting gets louder.
Jack: Come on, Jaymz! Do something!
Denrol: My suggestion being that he leave the ring entirely.
The chanting appears to have an affect on Jaymz, though, as his body
stiffens and his eyes suddenly become clear. The chants somehow get
even louder, and Jaymz goes back into his corner and begins to stomp
his foot again, pointing to his knee. As with before, the crowd counts
each stomp.
Jack: Jaymz is feeding off of his instincts and the electricity of
this crowd!
Denrol: Where is this energy coming from?
The Plague finally gets back to his feet, his back to Jaymz. As he
turns, slowly, Jaymz bolts out of the corner and leaps, putting a
massive Dark Water knee into The Plague's face, the crowd popping HUGE
in response. The big man, once again, does not fall, no matter how much
energy was behind the blow, instead stumbling back. Jaymz is to his
feet and sees this, and he is a bit surprised. Thinking quickly, he
rolls out of the ring, digs a chair out from under it, and rolls back
in. The Plague has had enough time to recover, though, and he grabs
Jaymz and Irish whips him, causing the former champion to drop the
chair. Jaymz hits the ropes and blasts The Plague with another Dark
Water, but the big man still doesn't fall. Jaymz gets back up,
frustration etched on his face, and he snatches up the chair.
Jack: The Plague just will not fall!
Denrol: He's an oak tree of a man. It may take an axe to take him
down.
When Jaymz turns back around and raises the chair high to smash his
opponent with it, The Plague moves in and latches Jaymz in a vicelike
bearhug, Jaymz crying out in pain almost immediately and dropping the
chair. The crowd boos. The official calls out to Jaymz from the side of
the ring, but the former champion doesn't respond directly, instead
groaning from the smothering grasp of The Plague.
Denrol: This is gonna be more than enough for The Plague to put this
match away.
The Plague cinches in his grip even tighter, and Jaymz nearly folds in
half backwards, arms outstretched as if he were on a cross. The crowd
resumes its chants again, even louder than before.
Crowd: LET'S GO JAYMZ! LET'S GO JAYMZ!
The Plague looks around at the crowd, unsure, and slowly Jaymz appears
to regain his strength. He grabs his right elbow pad and lowers it,
exposing the point of his elbow, before driving it straight into the
wound on The Plague's head. The big man falters, but he doesn't
release. Jaymz tries again, with the same result, but the third elbow
causes his opponent to finally release him. He gets the chair and
beckons for The Plague to come on, even though he's too busy rubbing
the spot on his head to see.
Jack: Where did this come from!? Jaymz could find his way back in
this match!
Denrol: This Trial.
The Plague finally turns back to face Jaymz, and he plasters him with
the chair. The Plague, to his credit, still doesn't fall. Jaymz hits
him again, and he STILL DOESN'T FALL. The crowd doesn't know how to
react, but Jaymz does. He begins firing punch after punch at the larger
man, who is on jello legs and staggering from all of Jaymz's offense.
The crowd is at a fever pitch.
Jack: Can Jaymz even knock The Plague down?!
Jaymz throws one last vicious punch, but The Plague ducks it and Jaymz
spins around to face away from the force of the attempt. The Plague
latches Jaymz around the waist for another German Suplex, but Jaymz
knifes around behind him... And somehow, some way, powers the giant up
and delivers a German Suplex of his own! The crowd is nuclear, and
Jaymz leaps to his feet in response, pumping his fists, blood still
pouring down his face.
Denrol: Whoa.
Jaymz stands poised at the head of The Plague after a few moments,
nearly shaking with anticipation, as the big man slowly makes his way
back to his feet. Jaymz grasps The Plague's head and butterflies his
arms, and the crowd is nearly beside itself.
Jack: He's gonna Killdozer The Plague! Jaymz is gonna do it!
Denrol: This is gonna be awesome.
The Plague, though, won't go down so easily. He resists, and with his
back to the ropes, he tries to throw Jaymz over his head, to the
outside, and onto the table, with a Northern Lights Suplex, but Jaymz
resists also. They struggle like this for a few moments before The
Plague loops out and throws Jaymz hard into the corner, and the crowd
begins to boo. The Plague runs at Jaymz to finish him once and for all
with a huge avalanche, but in a role reversal from earlier, Jaymz flies
out of the corner before The Plague can get there, and Jaymz hits him
with the superkick to end them all, shattering The Plague's chrome mask
and littering the ring with the shards. The big man crumbles, as Jaymz
does also, and the crowd erupts once again in cheers.
Jack: What a kick! My God, what a kick!
Denrol: Jesus Christ, I've never seen a superkick that vicious.
Jaymz gets to his feet finally, and sees the damage done. The former
actor looks at his opponent, then to the discarded chair, then to the
corner that happens to be nearby, before setting the chair on The
Plague's motionless chest and exiting to the apron and beginning a slow
climb up the turnbuckle.
Denrol: What is he thinking?! Why doesn't he pin him?!
At the top, Jaymz perches himself with his back to the ring, looking
out into the crowd. They continue to chant for him, and it's like
gasoline for the former World Champion. He stands, wobbling a bit, and
throws his hands out into the air, embracing the crowd, before leaping.
The hangtime he gets is absolutely astonishing, and it's one of the
most glorious moonsaults anyone could imagine, a thing of beauty. He
lands right upon the chair on top of The Plague's chest, and coughs up
more blood from the force. The fans are going apeshit, as it's an
eternity before Jaymz can reach over and drape an arm over The Plague's
chest. You bet the crowd chants with the official.
Crowd and Official: ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Ding, Ding
Trudeau: Your winner... JAAAYMZ WATKINS!
Jaymz rolls off of The Plague and leaps in the air in jubilation,
before dropping to his knees and bowing down to the crowd, who
inundates him with their affection. His celebration is short lived,
though, as "Hey Man, Nice Shot" comes over the loudspeakers, and the
crowd ceases cheering and begin booing.
Jack: I can't say I'm surprised he's coming back out here.
Randy Cross and Copeland make their way to the stage through the
curtainless entrance, both a bit more serious-looking than before.
Cross has a mic, and he uses it, damnit.
Cross: So you beat my giant. I suppose I'll have to choose my minions
more carefully next time. No surprises are waiting for your next Trial.
You must win the Bourbon Street Brawl, by any means necessary.
The boos are astronomical.
Denrol: Wow, that's pretty bold.
Jack: Perhaps not as frightening as The Plague, but it certainly is
more challenging!
Cross: I mean, the ball is literally in your home court, isn't it? I
don't see how that will be any trouble for you. If you fail, the
consequences will be... Dire.
He drops the mic and he exits the way he entered. Copeland merely
looks up at Jaymz, who has propped himself against the front ropes and
has been looking on with determination. The two lock eyes for a moment,
before Copeland turns and leaves.
Jack: Jaymz may have home field advantage, but that's the only
advantage he'll have!
Denrol: The New God isn't pulling any punches, that's for sure. I
certainly hope Jaymz is ready next week.
Jack: Indeed!
Chapter III
Bagwell Vs Price
Bagwell defeated Price via pinfall.
Chapter IV
Intrepid Promo
Jack: We are going out to the ring where Intrepid has apparently set
up a pulpit of sorts.
Denrol: Have you been able to find those earplugs that I had last
week?
D.Filed stands solemnly ringside dressed in a green long flowing
clerical type gown. She keeps her face impassive as she stares towards
the entrance awaiting Intrepid to arrive. The crowd berates her with
nearly every verbal insult they can muster as well as a few physical
items.
Denrol: I am bored already…at least no one is talking.
'Must Kill' by Cavalera Conspiracy begins playing and not even a
second after that the entrance ramp begins flashing with a quick burst
of white strobe light and Intrepid steps out onto the entrance clad in
a long green priestly robe with the hood pulled over his head. He
marches slowly and solemnly down the aisle, ignoring the crowd around
him. The camera picks up that Intrepid’s robe has broad yellow
phylacteries with the words ‘Hellbilly’ and then ‘Deluxe’ embroidered
on each side on red.
Jack: This is isn’t what I had expected…
Oddly enough Intrepid also has his trademark smiley on the back of the
robe as he passes the camera operator near the ring. The music finishes
playing, Intrepid leans in and whispers something to D.Filed, and she
nods slightly as they both turn and enter the ring. Intrepid steps up
to the pulpit in the middle of the ring.
Intrepid : Heathens! Let me have your silence so I can address you
properly…
The crowd erupts violently at his remarks and only continues to grow
louder.
Denrol: Well, that seemed to work.
Jack: What did he expect?
Intrepid : There is one among the new backstage that was once like
myself, enlightened….and has now begun to slip away toward the cancer
of you Heathens!
The crowd continues to boo at him but some quiet down since they are
curious to know what he is speaking about.
Intrepid : Ahh…so you Heathens run off gossip do ya? That is good to
know for the future…
D.Filed turns around, looks at the ones in the front row, and mouths
Heathen to them.
Intrepid : The one who is turning Heathen came from another company
where he did what he wanted and acted as he pleased and that is all the
gossip that y’all are gonna get from me….
He laughs sadistically into the microphone before continuing.
Intrepid : No sense in delaying this much…Chris Bagwell get out here
and allow me to change your mind.
"BREATHE"
A single word echos throughout the arena before ‘Breathe’ by Mike
Hardy begins to play over the loud speakers. Within moments,
Chris Bagwell steps out onto the ramp. He marches methodically to
the ring, paying no particular attention to anyone at ringside.
Stepping through the ropes, he reluctantly snatches the microphone from
D.Filed.
Intrepid : So Chrissy, you wanna be a Heathen eh? You think that you
can spend time away from this business, after being who you were and
decide when you come on back…you can have it differently?
The crowd is mixed with tension and disdain as they watch Bagwell
raise the microphone to his lower lip.
Bagwell : You know, it wouldn't be really out of character for me to
have marched down to this ring, told you I was the 'Rajah of Ratings',
the 'Human Hype Machine', or the man about to snap your friggin neck.
The crowd gives an unusual pop for the 'Torn Soul.'
Bagwell : But I'm not going to do that tonight.
And immediately, that pop drops to silence for fear that Bagwell is,
in fact, ready to concede.
Bagwell : You see, I've learned my lesson in the past that running
your mouth can get you in trouble...quick. So instead, I'll
leave it to this - who in the hell are you?
Intrepid : I AM INTREPID! You wannabe Heathen…what makes you think
you just toss aside any enlightenment that you have received just so
you can be a nice guy now?
Intrepid's voice raises as he steps out of the pulpit and closer to
Bagwell to emphasize his point. Bagwell's eyes widen. He
raises the microphone back to his lips, but remains silent. After
about a second or two, he lowers the microphone down - saying nothing.
Intrepid : So, I would assume that is a no then?
Intrepid stares at Chris intensely through the eyeholes of his
mask. Chris remains without a word.
Intrepid : If you don’t give up this idea of yours that you can walk
into this company and change faces, then I will haunt you until you do.
I will be there every step of the way until you break down.
’Cause I know you will...and after I am done with you, the Heathens in
that locker room won’t trust you, the fans won’t trust you, and those
of us of the Faith won’t want you.
Bagwell brings the microphone back to his mouth. A gentle rise
can be heard from the audience.
Bagwell : I don't get it. As a matter of fact, all I'm really
getting out of you is 'blah, blah, blah, I'm a stupid shit!'
The crowd pops!
Bagwell : If you're trying to blackmail me using my past, then you're
in dire need of some new material. You see, I don't care if
people know I'm an asshole, a duechebag, or a prick. I couldn't
give a crap if they know I slept with Andy Murray's wife, betrayed my
best friends, or sold out to the President of my former company.
I've taken responsibility for my actions - for my past - and I'm more
than willing to accept the consequences. I came to the WWA for a
fresh start...a new chance at success.
Intrepid : Yep…I know you want success more than you want to be a
saint. But the fact is...YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE PRESSURE THA--
Before Intrepid is even able to finish his sentence, Bagwell lunges
forward and locks Intrepid into a standing one-arm armbar. He
lifts Intrepid high into the air and drops him with a spinning one-arm
slam, his signature move 'The Torn Identity'. The crowd roars at
the sight of seeing the wannabe prophet, Intrepid, taking a hit. D.
Filed backs away into the corner. Suddenly one of RJ Stone’s
security members flies out of the back and down the aisle with an
extendable baton in hand.
Jack: Here comes trouble!
Bagwell spots him and conveniently slides out of the ring on the
opposite side as the hired servant slides in. Bagwell heads up the
entrance ramp at a quickening pace with a smirk on his face. The
security member helps Intrepid up, who is enraged and trying to get out
of the ring. Bagwell turns his back to Intrepid, adding insult to
injury, only to step right into Virtue.
Jack: Look out Chris!
Denrol: I don’t think that guy knows how dangerous that kid is.
Disarmed by the sight of the toddler, Bagwell spins around to check on
Intrepid's position. Virtue steps forward and whips out a taser
gun. As Bagwell turns back in Virtue's direction, he notices the
gun but a second too late. The child slams the gun into the
'Rajah of Ratings,' shocking him to the ground. The boy smiles
sadistically as he stands over the fallen Bagwell. Intrepid parades to
the top of the ramp, scooping Virtue up into his arms. With a
smirk of their own, they stand above Chris Bagwell.
Intrepid : You will say yes to me son…you will say yes...
Intrepid drops the microphone, letting it strike Bagwell's
chest. The crowd ensues in a brigade of boo's as Intrepid exits
the ringside area.
Chapter V
Harley Vs Carnage
Harley defeats Carnage via pinfall.
Chapter VI
White Promo
We cut to a random area of the arena, where a large crowd of rabid WWA
wrestling fans are standing and cheering or waving signs in the air.
WWA Superstar, Jevon White, set to make his official in-ring wrestling
return tonight in tonight's main event against Intrepid in the leather
strap submission match, stands in the middle of a crowd with a
microphone in his hand.
White: Here I am, Jevon White standing in the middle of this totally
on fire and rabid crowd which I from here on in I am officially calling
all this-all of you, both in the arena and even watching at
home...HEATHEN COUNTRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The camera cuts and pans around to the crowd around Jevon and all
throughout the arena as they let out a huge, deafening roar of applause
and cheers in a true unified chorus. Jevon waits for them to simmer
down before he can continue.
White: Right before I set foot in the ring. Right before I make my
officially WWA in ring return. Right before I square off against The
Rock-A-Billy Deluxe himself, Intrepid...
The crowd lets out a massive booing jeer at the sound of Intrepid's
name.
White: Right before I come in ready whip his blueberry muffin ass
into submission with a leather strap, and my relentless resolve. I
wanted to tour the battlefield right here tonight and get into the
frame of mind of what it is that I am fighting tonight. I wanted to get
to the heart of the matter and look at each and everyone of these fans
in the eye and say to them that I am fighting for all of you. To make
certain that you know that you are exactly getting out what you paid
for. All of your hard earned money, that you spent on our tickets and
our merchandise, in this recessive economy right now. I guaranD...VOW
that this match, this night will be a night that none of you will
NEVER...I mean NEVER forget. I'm fighting for...
Looking at and pointing to the crowd seated next to him to his right
who cheer wildly with him.
White: YOU... and YOU...points to the crowd of people seated next to
him to his right who follow suit. And YOU...Points to down and in
front of the crowd of people in front of him who cheer competitively.
And YOU...Points to the crowd of people seated behind him. And of
course you...Points to people who would be watching WWA: Underground
on the webcast.
White: You see, its not by accident. Its not not by coincidence that
I chose this point and time right now to make my return to the World
Wrestling Alliance. It's all about SERENDIPITY! Its all about DESTINY!
A series of fortunate accident separate and random but put them
together and they have a single goal and purpose. The road to Rage In
The Cage has officially began, and the first stop is tonight. But it
doesn't stop there as the next stop is BOURBON STREET next week and
that I is where I plan to be. I know that I said that I was gonna start
slow and take things in stride but what do you think that I am doing?
I'm going with the flow but I am here to make it happen. For me, MR
SERENDIPITY goes to work. My road to Rage In The Cage begins tonight
when I qualify for the Bourbon Street Brawl. Then I win it, I win the
WWA championship and then I go onto Rage In The Cage and have my time
to shine. At Rage in the Cage, The EPITOME OF DESTINY embraces his.
Denrol: God, he just goes on and on, doesn't he?
Jack: Quiet you.
White: It all goes back to you. It all begins with you Intrepid. You
are the starting point. You are the pebble cast in the water. There is
the splash of the impact, but the ripples will carry us all the way. I
appreciate your little parting gift...your souvenir. Thanks but no
thanks. I'm getting my own. Nice artwork, but I'm not into consolation
prizes. I've got my silver eyes on the grand prize. That prize is more
than just whipping you to sleep. That prize is me getting a shot at the
richest prize in the land. I'll go with the flow and starting small but
I am ambitious and hungry and I devouring the spotlight that is the WWA
Championship and the means to hold that title high in the air under the
lights and take my place in immortality once and for all.
Denrol: This show is only one hour buddy.
White: You know, I have you to thank for all of this. I was content
with taking match, but you have literally set the tires and lit the
fire in my heart and soul. You have shown that even I, Jevon Alexander
White, could come out of no where and can see the greatness in me to
become WWA Champion. So with that said. I say that unto you. Quote the
Epitome of Destiny, it will be done.
Jevon soaks in and bask in the cheers of the crowd as he disappears in
the mob. The camera cuts back to the commentating table.
Jack: Jevon White looking forward to his qualifying match tonight. He
could win it.
Denrol: Like he's got any chance of doing anything other than suck
the air out any room he's in.
Chapter VII
Adams Vs Conway
Nick Adams defeats Chris Conway via pinfall.
Chapter VIII
Main Event
Strap Match
Intrepid Vs White
Trudeau: The following contest is the Submission Strap Match!
The main arena lights dim to almost to a near black out, but not
quite. Soon they are replaced with white really fast trippy
seizure-inducing stobe lights and black lights that illuminate the main
stage entrance way. "Ignition" by Toby Mac begins to play, and the
crowd cheers.
Jack: Big match for Jevon White here.
Denrol: Big for Intrepid, too. They're his stipulations.
Jack: Big match for both men, honestly! There's a Bourbon Street
Brawl spot on the line!
A thick smokey like fog rolls in from the stage and engulfs the
entrance and spread throughout the arena. Mister Jevon White runs out
from the black curtain and onto the stage to a nice pop from the arena
crowd. He jogs down the aisle slapping as many outstretched hands as he
possibly can enroute to the ring.
Trudeau: Making his way to the ring, from St. Louis, Missouri,
weighing in at 235 lbs... MISTER Jevon Alexander WHITE!
Jack: He looks ready to go, I'll say.
Denrol: I thought he was gonna take it slow on his return. Meh.
Mister White arrives at ringside and slides into the ring. He runs to
each of the four turnbuckles soaking in the cheers of the crowd. On the
final turnbuckle he jumps down and walks over to his corner. "Ignition"
slowly fades out, and "Must Kill" by Cavalera Conspiracy begins
playing. Not even a second after that the entrance ramp begins flashing
with a quick burst of white strobe light and Intrepid comes out
quickly, glaring out into the crowd and occasionally at White through
the eyes of his mask, grooving to the beat of the music.
Trudeau: And his opponent, weighing 216 pounds, he is WWA's Hellbilly
from Hot Springs...INTREPID!
Jack: Virtue and D.Filed are not allowed out here for this match, and
neither is RJ Stone.
Denrol: Well, that was Intrepid's own stipulation, so no complaints
here.
Intrepid suddenly thrusts his arm into the air. As soon as the crowd
reacts, he runs down the entire aisle all the way to the ring, diving
onto the ring apron and slides into the ring on his stomach. When he
reaches the opposite side of the ring he pushes himself into a standing
position. He looks across the ring at Jevon White, smiling his icy
smile. White does not smile back, however, a look of determination on
his face.
Jack: Mr. White certainly looks ready for this match.
Denrol: Agreed.
The official wastes no time, retrieving the strap from the timekeeper
and taking the time to clasp both men in. Neither man, Intrepid nor
White, take their eyes off each other for an instant, anticipating some
kind of sneaky sneak attack that does not occur. The official tests the
strap, and waves to the timekeeper.
Ding, Ding
Jack: All right, we're underway!
Denrol: It will certainly be interesting to see if White can still do
what he once could.
Jack: Who will be the last non-wildcard BSB member? We're about to
find out!
Denrol: Let's watch and enjoy.
The two men don't waste any time, locking each other in a
collar-and-elbow tie-up. Intrepid gets the advantage, snatching White
in a hammerlock to a bit of boos. White reverses after a few moments,
however, but the crowd barely has time to cheer before Intrepid
re-reverses.
Denrol: Straight wrestling to start us off.
Intrepid, almost as if he'd heard Denrol, makes a crafty move and
wraps the strap around White's wrist and torques his arm that way,
causing White to groan loudly and eliciting a lot of boos from the
crowd. The official checks on White, but the returning superstar has no
interest in submitting at such an early stage, saying as such.
Jack: An interesting little hold here from Intrepid.
Denrol: Smart is what it is. Use the weapon you're given.
White tries to knock Intrepid off by throwing an elbow into his head,
but this does nothing. Intrepid's crafty streak continues before White
can try again, as he quickly releases the hold, tosses the strap up
around White's neck, and taking him down HARD with a modified Lung
Blower. The crowd is all boos at this, however.
Jack: Nice!
Denrol: Again, intelligently using what has been given to him.
White clutches at his back, but Intrepid doesn't give him a moment's
respite, rolling his opponent over onto his stomach and mounting him
with a Camel Clutch. The "heathens" in the crowd continue to boo, and
Intrepid forces a grin onto his focused face.
Intrepid: The unfaithful must be weeded out!
Jack: He's a loony.
Loony or otherwise, Intrepid really has a nice grip on that hold,
White squirming to squeeze out but failing. Intrepid maintains the
hold, but rises a bit, before dropping down across the small of White's
back, causing the returning superstar to wince in pain. The official
checks on White again, but again he does not give.
Denrol: Intrepid really coming out here with a lot of intensity.
White grunts and lunges his foot out, laying it atop the bottom rope,
which causes the official to begin his count.
One!
Two!
Three!
Four!
Five-
Denrol: Ah, Intrepid releases before the exclamation point! Nicely
done!
Intrepid tugs at the strap to get White to get up, which he slowly
does, the toll of the Camel Clutch evident already. Intrepid lines him
up, and as White reaches his knees, Intrepid delivers a stiff kick to
his chest, which causes the crowd to "ooh" bofore "boo." A second shot
comes, harder than the first.
Jack: Intrepid about to strike Jevon White out!
Intrepid eyes the final blow to the head and fires his kick, but White
ducks it somehow. Intrepid is staggered by the amount of power he put
into the miss, and it gives White enough time to push himself to his
feet, turn around and whack Intrepid hard with his Bionic Kick.
Intrepid is knocked silly, falling to his back and clutching at his
head. The crowd cheers.
Jack: Ouch!
Denrol: Well, Intrepid floated that curveball, and White knocked it
out of the park. Simple "you hang 'em, we bang 'em" deal.
White moves as if he wants to pin Intrepid, but catches himself.
Jack: Whoop.
Denrol: Yeah, that's a bit of that ring rust, though that kick
wouldn't have reflected that.
White quickly goes to scale the top turnbuckle, where he perches,
waiting for the right moment. Intrepid has this scouted, and he gives
the strap a tug, and White loses his balance and is crotched across the
turnbuckle.
Jack: Oof.
Denrol: Stop making ridiculous noises instead of calling the match.
Intrepid moves over to White, still atop the turnbuckle, climbs up
onto the second turnbuckle, and grabs White's arm wrapping the strap
tightly around it, the same arm which saw the strap-assisted hammerlock
earlier.
Jack: Intrepid looking to initiate some more creative offense here.
Intrepid turns around on the turnbuckle with White's arm over his
shoulder, then leans forward quickly, yanking the still disoriented
White off the top turnbuckle and slamming him onto his back. The strap
wrenches White's arm hard, and he cries out, clutching at it.
Jack: Oh, that looked extremely painful!
Denrol: Might have seperated a shoulder on that one.
Intrepid senses blood in the water, and drops to his butt and locks a
crucifix armbar on White. White struggles against the pressure for a
few moments, before reaching out for the bottom rope with his legs and
latching onto it to cheers. Intrepid, of course, waits until the VERY
last instant to release the hold, and the crowd lets him know how they
feel about him.
Jack: Intrepid using the whole count to his advantage.
Denrol: He's just wrestling smart, guys.
Intrepid gets to his feet and gets into the face of the official,
while White pushes himself over to the ropes, leaning against them and
trying to work the kinks out of his arm.
Intrepid: Counting a bit fast, eh?
Official: Get out of my face, man.
Intrepid: If you insist, heretic.
He smiles a dazzlingly white and evil smile, and suddenly runs toward
White. Intrepid jumps through the second and top rope while holding
onto the ropes, then swings around and grapevines White's arms,
applying another crucifix armbar, only way more awesome this time.
Jack: A very fancy move there!
Denrol: A tiger feint crucifix armbar, to be precise, and a very
pretty one at that.
Of course, with White in the ropes Intrepid can't keep the hold locked
on for long, and he again takes the referee's count to it's very end
before releasing. The Hellbilly stands and raises his arms above his
head, looking up into the sky in reverence, and the crowd boos like
crazy. Intrepid just smiles wider, and he reaches down to help White to
his feet, but the returning superstar is quick to grab the Hellbilly's
head and drop him hard with a jawbreaker, staggering Intrepid. White
tries to flex his arm but winces noticibly again, and as Intrepid turns
back to him White runs and leaps really high for a very nice-looking
and high-angling Shining Wizard, which delights the crowd.
Jack: White trying to mount some momentum here...
Intrepid is up pretty quickly, however, and the two men meet in the
middle of the ring, where they tie up and White begins delivering nasty
knees into Intrepid's midsection. After a slew of these, White grabs
Intrepid's head and turns around to drop him with the Skull Crusher.
Jack: Skull Cr - No!
Indeed, as Intrepid will not allow White to drop him. Intrepid
actually grabs White from behind after a brief struggle, and it appears
that he wants to hit a back suplex on White, who has not released his
grip on Intrepid's head. This suplex attempt proves to be a poor idea
on Intrepid's part, as White flips himself in the air and turns his
grip on Intrepid into a reverse DDT, which drops the Hellbilly down
hard to the delight of the crowd.
Jack: Nice counter counter there from White!
Denrol: More or less an Asai DDT there, and a good one.
It's White's turn to go on the offensive, as he moves down by
Intrepid's legs and locks on a Figure-Four Leg Lock to a chorus of
WOOOOOs. It's a good one, as Intrepid raises his arm as if he's about
to tap almost immediately.
Jack: Whoa, it might be about over already!
Denrol: He's gonna tap. It's a strong hold there.
White leans up to apply more pressure, and Intrepid falls back to his
back for a moment, writhing in pain. Finally, he's able to force
himself up into a seated position, face-to-face with White. White takes
the initiative to knock the Hellbilly right back down with a right hand
to cheers, but Intrepid comes back for more, hitting White this time,
replacing the cheers with boos. White recovers quickly, knocking
Intrepid back down and switching the audience back to cheers. This
exchange goes on for a little bit, each man knocking the other back and
the crowd reacting accordingly, until Intrepid finally shifts his body
hard and flips the two of them over, reversing the pressure of the
Figure-Four.
Denrol: Best counter for that move, man.
Intrepid keeps the reversed hold on tight, not allowing White to
wiggle free, as the crowd boos. White raises his arm this time, his
hand shaking...
Jack: He's gonna tap!
With a heave, White re-reverses the lock and returns it to normal, the
crowd ecstatic now. Intrepid hollers in pain, and when he leans up to
get into White's face again, the returning superstar makes a deft move,
looping the strap around Intrepid's neck and choking him with it.
Denrol: Nice one.
Intrepid tries to pull away, but he sees after a short while that it
would be futile to even try, and he has no choice but to tap out, which
he does emphatically. The crowd bursts into cheers.
Ding, Ding
Trudeau: Your winner, by submission... MR. JEVON WHITE!
Jack: Whoa!
Denrol: That's a bit of an upset if you ask me.
White gets to his feet and throws his hands into the air in
jubilation, the crowd loving him. Intrepid rolls out of the ring and
plops to the floor, clutching at his legs, looking coldly back up into
the ring at his victorious opponent.
Jack: White has earned himself a spot in the BSB, but I've gotta say,
he's a bit of an underdog, honestly.
Denrol: Perhaps not. I view him as a bit of a dark horse, honestly.
He's a guy nobody is gonna look over their shoulder for, and he'll
probably use that disinterest to his advantage. I know I would.
The camera cuts back to Jack and Denrol backstage, sitting at the
commentary table.
Jack: Here we are, just a week away from Bourbon Street Brawl. It
promises to be quite a show. But after that, we will be locked in to
the road to rage in the Cage. Here now, is the very first commercial
for that event.
Chapter IX
Rage in the Cage Promo
The video begins with darkness. It fades into grainy wrestling
footage. White lettering appears over the footage.
November of 1997, the WWA Was Born
The grainy footage changes to a shadowy figure in front of a podium,
making an announcment. More lettering appears.
June of 2009, the WWA Was Mortally Wounded
Now we see footage from the first Underground, with Gary Trudeau
standing in the middle of the ring.
January of 2010, the WWA Returned to Life
Trudeau is replaced by darkness. One more time the lettering appears.
June of 2010, the WWA Will Rise
Rage in the Cage XII
June 6, 2010
Only 8 Weeks Away
The video fades back to our commentators.
Jack: Just eights weeks left till my first RITC. I'm pumped.
Denrol: Calm down. I've done a few in my time.
Chapter X
Black & Griffiths Contract Signing
Jack: It's time for the contract signing between Jack Griffiths
and Lucas Black, to formalize their match at Rage in the Cage.
Denrol: And as you can see, the ring has been redecorated a bit
for the event.
In the ring, numerous baskets of wilted, brown daisies sit on the
canvas, on small or tall pedestals, enshrining the ring in decay. In
the center of the ring, standing before a small table with a contract
and a pen, stands Lucas Black. Tiffani stands next to him, a grin
on her face.
Jack: There must be at least a hundred pots of dead daisies in
there.
Denrol: It's like a dead jungle.
“Tip the Scales” by Rise Against echoes through the arena, bringing
enthusiastic cheers from the fans. Jack Griffiths steps through the
curtain, cautiously approaching the ring.
Jack: Here comes Jack Griffiths, and he doesn't look impressed
by the ring décor.
Denrol: You know that daisy chain tattoo on his wrist?
That represents his daughter Samara who passed away.
Jack: I – I didn't realize that. Then all of these dead
daisies --.
Denrol: Yeah.
Jack steps into the ring, watching Lucas carefully. A ring
attendant hands him a microphone.
Griffiths: Are you ready for this, Lucas? Come Rage in
the Cage, you're going to find yourself not only losing yet another
match ...
For some odd reason, the fans cheer.
Jack: Note that Lucas Black lost the first singles match of his
career to John Grant last week.
Griffiths: ...but you'll also learn what it's like to be on the
losing end of a submission match.
Again the fans cheer and Griffiths stands with confidence in the face
of Black's stoic glare. Black nods and lifts a microphone of his
own.
Black: A submission match in a cage. No winning by escape
or pinfall or disqualification or any other means. Only a
submission will do. And until our match at Rage in the Cage, you
will be restricted from touching me, otherwise you forfeit the match.
Denrol: I don't think that I need to remind anyone that Lucas
Black is a master of submission wrestling.
The fans express their feelings loudly, cheering Griffiths' name.
Griffiths: Bring it.
And the crowd goes wild. Lucas nods and signs his name to the
contract. Without another word or even a glance in Jack's
direction, he exits the ring, Tiffani in tow.
Denrol: Lucas Black has signed the contract.
Griffiths doesn't waste any time in signing the contract himself.
Jack: And now Griffiths has signed it. This match is
official. Submission in the Cage!
Lucas stops just before exiting through the curtain. Without
turning to face Griffiths, he speaks into the microphone.
Black: Don't ever forget that you brought this on yourself,
Jack. You and your precious little dead daisy.
Flames burst from within each of the pots, engulfing the dry brittle
daisies. The fans at ringside gasp and Griffiths exits the ring in a
hurry.
Jack: What the hell? The flowers just burst into flames.
Denrol: This is a message from Lucas. Not only could Jack
have been hurt in those flames, but he's literally burning the symbols
of Griffiths' deceased daughter.
Jack: That's – that's sick.
Denrol: And it has to have some kind of psychological impact on
Griffiths.
Lucas casually passes through the curtain, Jack staring daggers at his
back. The scene fades to black.