Wrestlestock 2013 Day 2: History Repeats Itself

[Jet Somers]

A panning shot of New Orleans City Park. Thousands of visitors mill in and out of attractions, booths, and events while a voiceover is heard; the voice of Pepper Phoenix.

“City Park is a singly wondrous oasis in New Orleans. The 1,300-acre park opened in 1854, making it one of the nation’s oldest urban parks. These historic oaks and Spanish moss canopies shelter some one million visitors per year, and these are the same flora that lent character to dances, concerts and even gentlemanly duels for generations.

“Today is a hallmark day for these ‘affaires d’honneur,’ as several men will be featured to contest the legendary Cross Hemisphere Championship, as The Piercing Media Network and UGWC present ‘Wrestlestock: History Repeats Itself.’"

The camera switches to the Wrestlestock Main Stage, which is situated along Berky’s Circle behind the Christian Brother’s School. Robert Ooley and Dexter Vines are announcing the day’s festivities to the gathered crowd, but the camera moves away, down Golf Drive toward the Two Sisters Pavilion.

Under the marble open air structure, in three piece suit despite the weather, Pepper Phoenix is speaking live to a small gathered crowd. He stands a bit stage right, and in the center of the stage are two white folding chairs.

“Fans, I hope you’re ready to change gears a drastically. Yesterday showcased what a travesty can occur when, first, you let chaos reign, and second, you let Chaos reign. This day is not about that kind of maelstrom. Today is about dignifying the history of this sport, and it’s most honored prize.”

[Jet Somers]

“Today I have a special guest, who we at the PMN have asked to help co-host the day. Ladies and gentlemen please give a warm welcome to UGWC’s Cross Hemisphere Champion, Phrixus Deimos!”

There is an overwhelming amount of applause as Fear steps onto the stage carrying the eponymous championship. Pepper indicates the chairs, and he takes one after Deimos has chosen his.

“Welcome, champ. How are you enjoying the festival so far?”

“Allow me to set the record straight from the outset, plebian. This will not be a standard chit chat with all the niceties of a late show appearance. I’m not here to pander to your pimp’s schemes, whatever they may be. I have no doubt he intends to spin the day to his favor. I do not intend to allow this to happen. I accepted his invitation only to ensure that my possession is afforded the proper respect and reverence that it deserves.”

Pepper is not daunted.

“Of course. Today, each match will in some way honor a milestone in the history of the Cross Hemisphere Championship, and as the champ, you’ve been given the privilege of defining those milestones for us. I understand you met with the Piercing Media Network earlier this week to discuss those matches, and how they will influence today’s events?”

“This is not No Hold’s Barred, Phoenix, and we are not contesting the Chaos Championship as we did yesterday, so do not assume that you will be seeing gimmick matches for the entire day. What you will see is a plethora of carefully thought out stipulations or details which will work to make sure the competitors honor the history of the championship before facing its one true lord.”

“Why don’t you lead us into our first match?”

“Sometimes a single match is not enough to determine the superiority of one person over another. Sometimes, a best two out of three situation is still not enough. In 2003, the late Alan Fernandez and I held a series of seven matches to determine which of us truly deserved to call ourselves the Cross-Hemisphere Champion. Each match had its own stipulation, of escalating intensity, beginning with a simple Submission Match before later including the Hall of Mirrors and ultimately ending in an Iron Man Match.”

“We’re actually framing today around that legendary series between you and your late partner, Fear. The three competitors, Cypress Morgan, Jordan King, and Jet Somers, will face off multiple times to determine who, ultimately, will be facing you in the final bout.”

“I suspect that when your sacrificial lamb meets his fate at my hands, he’ll later complain that he was exhausted and that’s why I was able to maintain my grasp on the championship, but it is what it is. That series saw a wide variety of matches and styles, including LWF's first Strap Match, a match in which your every move, every motion, has immediate consequence.”

“In honor of that strap match, Jet Somers and Jordan King will be wearing straps around their wrists and ankles. Inside those straps are generators which will emit a shock anytime they leave the ring, thus ensuring a straightforward matchup that will keep the action from spilling out into the crowd.”

“Sure it will.”

[Jet Somers]

The camera cuts to the lakeside on the corner of E. Alferez and Friedrichs where a ring has been set up. The doors to the Christian Brother’s School opens and a silhouette appears in the distance of a darkened hallway, walking toward the screen. A distorted and distant Mark Collie wails: 'In time, your time will be no more...,' , then, as Nonpoint's "Everybody Down" hits hard, the silhouette runs out the doors, revealing himself as The Wild Card. He runs to the edge of the steps and pumps his fist in the air a few times. At 'And when I stomp you' Jet sprints down the steps, slapping hands with a few of his still loyal supporters in the crowd as he goes, running to leap onto the apron of the ring. He grabs the rope with one hand and pumps the other fist in the air on each 'Everybody Down!' chant of the chorus. Jet finally steps in and begins bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing shadow punches to warm up.

The lights strung up around the lake flicker to green and gold as What a Great Night kicks in. JK walks through the doors of the school to a loud chorus of cheering and chanting. JK looks up at the fans as he holds up an open hand, cuing fireworks to go off in set locations around the lake. JK continues down to the ring, looking out upon the sea of fans, occasionally stopping to have a chat to some of the fans. JK slides into the ring before climbing the turnbuckle and doing his signature five finger pose.

{{{set the mood}}}



The irony present in the ring at this time doesn’t escape either competitor. It was the element of electricity that brought them to this point in their relationship. Voltage put JK on his back at the Battleground at Jet’s hands. Now, there are eight nodes where either man might receive a shock powerful enough to floor him again.

The history between these two is a dramatic pendulum. In the beginning, when Jet Somers was a no one, Jordan King was one of the first to reach out and welcome him. For a time, he was an honorary Aussie Rebel. Half a decade later, and Jet is forcefully trying to push that welcoming hand and the man who sports it into the oblivion of obscurity.

The two men leap at the same time. Speed, agility, passion, drive. It’s almost a blur as these multiple time champions clash at speeds rarely matched by their fellow competitors.

The crowd gathered around the lake leans forward inch by inch, afraid to miss a single wind-whistling maneuver. Kicks, jumps, aerial twists, holds quickly applied and just as quickly released.

The spectacle of these innovators keeps the viewers breathless. Neither man gives up his feet, neither so much as grunts or groans as the flesh smacks flesh and sinew twists against bone.

The winds change.

The crowd gasps.

King lowers the top rope as Somers sails through the void, landing on the lawn outside the ring.

There is a split second of apprehension as Somers lies stunned for a moment, then suddenly his body contorts as the amps course through his body. This goes on agonizingly for a full minute, then his muscles relax.

He realizes he has moments before the jolts resume, and he hurries to his feet to slide back into the ring.

Back into the fray.

The competitors clash again, this time demonstrating the power that their relatively light frames can muster. Punches, forearms, and suplexes are the second course, and each man eats his fill.

A powerful whip from the Cooperative Champion sends King through the ropes, but King hangs on even as he flips upside down, crucifying himself in the twisted ropes.

Déjà vu.

Wracked with pain, JK begins to absorb the punishment for leaving the boundaries of the ropes. He cries out as he is tortured from his extremities. His mind is cast back against his will, cast back to Battleground, when a cattle prod put him in a similar position.

As the contortions end, Somers is there to grab his opponent and flip him back into the ring.

Wasting no time, The Wild Card ascends the turnbuckles, prelude to a rare high risk move.

Premonition.

As King rolls to his feet with preternatural speed, Somers stops himself, and whirls about into a Pele Kick!

The Cyclone isn’t about to give up the win this time. Having made his point weeks ago, and with a championship that once absorbed the belt that put him on the map on the line, he can’t afford to walk away.

He covers the supine Somers…






…but only gets the two count.

Somers rises from the near defeat, shaking his head. He is not about to allow this former friend turned bitter enemy to steal away the prize that he feels only he is worthy of carrying.

Far from a miraculous recovery, Somers backs away to clear the foot from his brain.

King, in the ultimate show of sportsmanship, backs away, giving himself time to calculate the next series of attacks.

It is the mistake he had hoped to avoid.

Catching some glint, he realizes his goof, and rushes to perform a desperation Flying Debris.

Somers falls backwards inches before the punt connects, bridging into The Matrix.

Poetry is all that can describe what happens next.

And Chaos in Motion is the name it is given by Jet Somers.

As the shiranui is completed, he rolls up the former GIW.com champion.

And gains the three count while pushing King one step further away from the Cross Hemisphere Championship.

[Jet Somers]

The camera goes back to the Pavilion, where Pepper Phoenix picks up the thread of conversation.

“Jet Somers exacting a bit of revenge against the Aussie Rebel for the vendetta he’s perpetuated over the last couple months. Fear, you once defended another championship against JK and defeated him in his own backyard. How do you feel about your chances should he advance to face you for this championship in Jet Somers’ backyard?”

“Phoenix, Jordan King has humbled himself in a dubious effort to win over the fans he once alienated by throwing in his lot with The Vicious Kind. He claims to have no interest in championships or other accolades, and simply seems to want to be a thorn in the side of Jet Somers. Frankly, I can’t see that singlemindedness carrying him to a victory today, especially after being handed a loss by his target just now.”

“While we set up for our next match, let’s take a look around the festival.”

The camera jump cuts to several areas around the park, first finding former Head of Creative and Cross Hemisphere Champion Moss Edwards, who is signing autographs at a booth, accompanied by Chastity, Patience, and Grace Harding. A large number of fans are sporting both versions of the Prince Rudo mask.

Another jump cut to where John Russo and Kyle Tacker have set up an inflatable ‘cage fighting’ tournament for the kids.

Remi Monroe, obviously in his element, has rented a fleet of paddle boats and is accompanying a bevy of female fans across the lake.

Cut back to the Pavilion.

“Jet Somers has one victory against JK. One more victory will guarantee Somers moves on to the final match against our champion here, but if he loses, Cypress Morgan will only have to defeat JK to move on. And then, if we need to go to that, and JK manages the win over Morgan, all three competitors will enter the final match against Phrixus Deimos! How about it, Champ, do you think Somers is devious enough to lie down to Morgan and try to engineer a harder final for you?”

“As much as a manipulator as Somers tries to be, his pride will not allow him to scoop against his brother in law.”

“Somers has denied the war with DMW from the beginning.”

“They are both contracted Entertainment Professionals, you can hardly call a straight up match a battle in the war.”

“You can if the DMW are hanging about somewhere. Regardless, set the scene for us, champ.”

“It was during his time in the Havok division that the Talk of the Town innovated the Hamsterball, but it was during the Best of Seven Series that it was seen to be implemented to its potential. Two competitors locked within a circular cage, the cage rolling freely throughout the arena. It is a dangerous scenario in which you are battling not only your opponent, but your environment as well.”

“I’d love to see a match like that at the next year’s gimmick event, but as you said earlier, today is not about the gimmicks, it’s about the symbolic history. Therefore, instead of locking them in a rolling ball, we’ve surrounded the ring with steel hemisphere. This will be a one pinfall or submission match as usual, but the combatants will not be able to escape or to gain leverage from allies interfering.”

“Sure they won’t…”

[Jet Somers]

Cut back to the lakeside, where a gigantic steel half sphere hangs over the ring by a crane.

Jet Somers is already in the ring, relaxing after his first victory today.

The lights surrounding the lake begin to flicker quickly as the park is deafened with an explosion of sound as Black Label Society's "World of Trouble" rips through the scene like a chainsaw to the ear drums, some who know him bobbing their heads to the music others throwing up hex symbols made with their hands as the lights around the entrance begin to pulsate and flicker faster in a strobe like fashion. The fans stand in one and become a sea of moving chants and jeers as through the entrance to the school slowly creeps the iconic “All American Asshole” Cypress Morgan. He stops at the top of the stairs and watches the park through the eyes of what some call madness one of his trademark cigars clenched between his pearly white teeth, and a bottle of beer in hand as he begins to walk to the ring. Looking to him the fans burst into fits of cheers and boos. Cypress walks to the apron and makes his way into the ring, climbing through the ropes slowly, stalking his way to the corner.

The dome is lowered around them.

{{{for atmosphere}}}



Can these two animals be caged, as their rage and hate for one another threatens to explode before the park’s attendees?

Perhaps more than anyone else in attendance today, these two men know one another inside and out. They were family, brothers, perhaps so much as friends.

One act, one sentence, one emotion, tore that family tree to it’s roots, and sundered that which no man should attempt to destroy.

Family.

Perhaps the greatest tragedy here is that these men should be kindred, having been taken into surrogate families so lovingly. Although both have been accepted by people with whom they don’t share blood, both intend to spill the blood of the other violently.

Those watching should be thankful that this match is taking place today and not twenty four hours before. Festival food is never as pleasant the second time around.

It becomes apparent within moments that the Living Weapon is trapped inside a giant weapon when his brother in law, fresh for the day, scoops him up and launches him with a powerslam out of the ring and into the wall of the cage.

What follows is difficult to watch, and even more difficult to talk about.

The mountain of a man unleashes unholy hell on the man who snubbed his wife’s protection and kindness.

The cage meant to keep out the Devil’s Most Wanted has imprisoned Opie with the Devil’s general.

Fruitlessly, Somers attempts over and over to mount a comeback, but his efforts are ruthlessly swatted down by the punishment dispensing hand of Morgan.

And the White Trash Messiah doesn’t seem interested in the details of the match. This is a straight up contest, and the fall must happen within the ring, but he hasn’t allowed the action to re-enter the ring for more than enough time to stop the multiple count outs that have been started against them.

It begins to dawn on the crowd that Cypress Morgan has no interest in advancing in this tournament. His only concern is teaching Jet Somers the consequences of hurting his family. The crowd thins as the more weak-stomached of the throng simply walks away.

A weak, bloody mess inches his way to the ring, struggling with everything he has. It isn’t clear whether he wants to get away from the cage that is now covered in his gore and viscera, or if he just hopes to force Morgan into a position to end the pain.

Morgan chuckles as he lights a cigar that he seemingly pulled from thin air.

He advances just as one bloody hand reaches the apron, dragging it’s nearly unconscious owner into the ring.

And that hand leaves a crimson streak as Somers is pulled away from the edge of the ring again. Morgan lifts turns and starts to lift him up, presumably setting up for The Devil’s Due.

And that’s when Somers commits suicide.

A Suicide Pull that drags both men into the steel dome.

Frantically, Somers’ hand flaps around under the giant, trying to get purchase on something before Cypress can pull himself to his feet.
He finds it. With a snarl of pain, he snatches up the still burning cigar and plunges it into the depths of Morgan’s beard with an impressively powerful haymaker.

Morgan stumbles back, patting at his pride and joy of facial adornment, trying to salvage what isn’t smoldering.

Somers takes the opportunity, and launches himself at Morgan, forcing him against the ring apron, and delivering a brutal mounted Ground and Pound. Morgan fights, raining hammering fists down on his brother in law.

Around the perimeter of the ring they trade blows, Morgan trying to shake Somers loose, and Jet tightening his hold as he begins to gain the advantage.

That advantage is prematurely felt.

Fed up with the assault, Morgan spins around and flings Somers bodily into the ring. Jet slides across the ring, as limp as a rag doll.

Morgan climbs the steps, patting his beard to make sure it is out, before stepping through the ropes and stomping toward Somers.

There is no hesitation.

There is no calculation.

There is no reprieve.

Without ceremony, Cypress Morgan steps over Jet Somers and Curb Stomps him.

It is with a sigh of relief that the count to end the match is performed.

[Jet Somers]

Back at the Pavilion, where an uneasy Pepper Phoenix resumes the interview.

“I wouldn’t exactly call that lying down, would you?”

“Perhaps not, but Jet Somers is nothing if not masterfully sneaky. I’ve heard that for the first time since the festival began yesterday, Travis Pierce is not in his booth. Significant?”

“Let me handle the rumours, champ. After all, Fear, Mr. Pierce cannot be expected to sit in one place all day. We’re sponsoring this day. I’m sure he’s chasing down Andy Savana or Red Fusion for an interview.”

“We shall see...”

“Moving along, we’re about to see this sick fuck Cypress Morgan in action again, this time giving JK his one last shot at the day. What can we expect out of this match, champ, besides that psychotic piece of trash trying to maim another employee?”

“I remember as a child going to school-sponsored carnivals and fund-raisers, and the glee with which people participated in the dunk tank. The pleasure they took in watching a person plunged into cold water. Imagine the tank existing on a grand scale, and the water being taken from the dark depths of a polluted river, and you have the Weekhawken Water Tower Match. A wretched concept, yet when you seek to take two people to their limit, a perfect centerpiece to a Best of Seven Series.”

“We promised no gimmicks today, and we’re going to stick as closely as possible to that, but in honor of this historical match, we’ve situated the ring on the bridge over the Big Lake on Collins Diboll Circle. This is going to be a straight up match like the other two, with only one small catch; if you are knocked over the bridge into the lake, you lose, so it’s in the competitor’s best interest to keep the action inside the ring!”

“I’m sure that’s going to happen…”

[Jet Somers]

The camera cuts to just behind the New Orleans Museum of Art, where a ring is indeed set up on the bridge over the water. The sun is setting, and the sounds of the nearby bayou lend an interesting flavor to the match, one that Cypress seems quite comfortable with.

{{{a little ambiance}}}



There is a calm before the storm. Cypress Morgan has already put this man out for one night of competition, and if he wins, he will have put two men out of the fight tonight.

For Jordan King’s part, he knows this is his last chance to recapture the glory he enjoyed so many years ago, before turning his back on the world. Crossing the Hemisphere would once again introduce him to the world as a hero.

He has no intentions of letting Morgan get the drop on him the way he did with Somers. JK intends to climb this mountain of a man, and he launches himself to the ring ropes for a huge springboarded kick to the head of the Undead Savior.

Morgan is caught off guard, and King takes control of this match.

Once again the fans are treated to the awesome skills and speed of The Cyclone as he spins around the ring like his namesake. Morgan snatches and grabs, coming up with empty air over and over again, all the while receiving shot after shot from the practiced art of King.

From the early going, it looks like the match will go in King’s favor. His dominance in the opening minutes of this match is completely unexpected by both those watching and his opponent.

And then Morgan simply steps backward.

The miscalculated Pele Kick sails by Morgan’s face, and the wind from the attack ruffles his singed beard as he turns his head sideways.

He has him.

The Aussie Superstar is dwarfed by the All American Asshole as he wraps him up in a massive bear hug.

The drama is punctuated as the camera pulls back, giving us the scope of Cypress Morgan standing in the ring, easily an ogre of a man compared to the crowd, a colossus compared to his prey. He looks large enough to wrangle a tornado easily.

It’s hard to tell in the dimming light, even despite the artificial brilliance that is beginning to brighten the lakeside, but Jordan King seems to be turning blue.

Perhaps a moment of mercy comes over the motorcycle enthusiast. He drops The Cyclone, who clumsily keeps his feet

Until Cypress drives The Nail home.

King collapses.

Collectively, the crowd shakes their head, knowing that this will not be the day their hero from down under will be victorious.

Adding insult to injury, Morgan unceremoniously scoops up King and dumps him over the side of the ring, where he falls twenty feet into the lake.

[Jet Somers]

Back at the brilliantly lit Pavilion, it is full dark skies now as Pepper welcomes the camera.

“Well Champ, it looks like Jet kept his honor clean today. Appropriate as there are many who would say he is the only worthy adversary you’ve had here.”

“I’m not so sure it’s because he elected not to act; perhaps he is having some physical trouble. And, the day is yet to be concluded.”

“Indeed, we have one final bout, in which Cypress Morgan has earned the right to challenge for your championship. In the interest of fairness, we’ve kept the actual match details from you, but you do know the day will end in a blaze of glory, isn’t that right?”

“There are two matches in particular that you might be referring to. Over the years, the Cross-Hemisphere Championship has absorbed the history and legacy of a number of promotions, including the Lock Wrestling Federation, Empire Wrestling Federation, Xtreme Chaos Wrestling, Ultimate Wrestling Fusion, and most recently, Global Impact Wrestling, with the latter coming when the title was unified with the GIW.com Championship. How fitting, then, that this unification match was held using a gimmick the originated in GIW, the Dragon's Cave. With shards of glass glued to the hands of the participants, it is a bloody car wreck that strikes terror in the hearts of those the match has victimized. The other option would bring us all the way back to the beginning. The history books say that the Cross-Hemisphere Championship was born on April 19, 2001, but it was ten days later, at the Lock Wrestling Federation's first Pay-Per-View presentation, Maul, that it earned its place. Phoenix, the first title holder, and the man who would later hold the LWF World Championship six times, defended the title for the first time against Therion, in the first ever Inferno Pit Match. It was a match that would go on to become synonymous with Phoenix, but on this day he would lose the championship to the fiery depths. The match ended when Therion chokeslammed Phoenix into the pit of fire and Therion became the new Cross-Hemisphere Champion. As Therion walked up the ramp after the match, Phoenix's music hit and he rose back to the stage, again through flames, creating an image that echoed his namesake. The Inferno Pit would go on to be the battleground for the World Championship on two occasions, and would settle multiple personal feuds, but in its debut, it put a single championship on the map.”

“No relation to yours truly, of course. Well, from LWF in 2001 to UGWC in 2013, no championship has had as much history, legacy, and legend attached to it. Today, in our main event, Phrixus Deimos will defend his place in that lineage. Join us at Tad Gormley Stadium in one hour for details!”

[Jet Somers]

Tad Gormley Stadium is packed to capacity with fans ready for the day’s main event. At center field, Pepper Phoenix stands on a gigantic stage set high above the field, which stretches from one end to the other.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight we promised to honor the legacy of the Cross Hemisphere Championship as no one has before. We feel that we have brought another chapter to its long and prestigious history, but before we close the book, that championship must be defended in a battle befitting its heritage.”

As he speaks, the stage begins opening at various points. All around, pits are opening up, cluing the crowd into the match about to take place.

“The PMN promised a gimmick-free night, as much as could be helped, but when Mr. Somers devised this grand finale, it really couldn’t be turned down. This will be an Inferno Pit Match, and the winner will be the first to send his opponent into one of the three pits in the stage.”



“Introducing first, from Slaughter Swamp, South Carolina, weighing in at 295 pounds, and having already defeated two opponents to get to this point, The White Trash Messiah and leader of the Devil’s Most Wanted, CYPRESS MORGAN!!”

Morgan steps out from one of the entryways, a fresh brew and cigar already being sported. He stalks to the stage slowly, taking his time to recover from earlier today.



“And his opponent, he is the reigning and defending Cross Hemisphere Champion, weighing in at 220 pounds, the Embodiment of Fear, PHRIXUS DEIMOS!”

Deimos comes from another entranceway, carrying the championship over his right shoulder, and surveys the scene Jet Somers has laid out for him. He nods and chuckles a bit, then nods to Cypress Morgan as he approaches the stage.



The crowd explodes! Workers rush out with barrels on hand trucks and begin unloading them around the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there is one more detail. You see, we want to make sure the action is contained, and so the stage will be surrounded by live coals out to five feet. That’s right, this will be a DRAGON’S CAVE INFERNO PIT, and your special guest referee, the man who brought the Cross Hemisphere Championship to UGWC, ALEX KISERAGI!”

Alex Kiseragi himself rushes to the out to an enormous outpouring of applause. As he leaps up the stairs onto the stage, Pepper signals for the bell, and we’re underway!

[Jet Somers]

{{{the excitement builds}}}



Bow your heads.

Take a breath.

Say a prayer.

Now open your eyes.

What you see before you is Hell.

This is Hell.

Three legends in Hell stand on a stage surrounded by nuclear fire.

If you could roll every Southern stereotype into one, and mold it around a six foot six frame made of iron and lubricated with pure grain alcohol, you might come close to recreating the massive force that is Cypress Morgan.

Imagine that feeling you get when you awaken at four AM. Your body sweats, but it is chilled to the bone. You know someone was watching you. Someone was staring down at your vulnerable life and contemplating all the possibilities. And now you recognize him, and know his name. Phrixus Deimos.

They say when you’re in Hell, you should avoid one thing at all costs. Not the demons, not the shades, not even the fire. It’s the white kitten. Because that symbol of purity has stood on the shoulders of Leviathan, saddled Behemoth, and brought Beelzebub to task. He sweats honor and pisses tradition… but he is The Dragon. Alex Kiseragi.

There should have been a mushroom cloud.

There should have been a shockwave that rocked the park from the McDonogh Oak to Robert E. Lee Boulevard, knocking everyone from their feet.

These giants collide with no hesitation, nothing held back. Blow after blow connects, shaking the stage, fanning the flames as the stage threatens to come apart beneath their feet.

Mouths drop open.

Eyes stretch to their ocular limits.

Each man takes turn after turn lifting the other in the air and dropping him in a move that would shatter normal bones, cripple normal competitors.

Suplex.

Facebuster.

Knee smash.

Backbreaker.

Piledriver.

There are no submissions.

There are no pin attempts.

Each man knows what it’s going to take to climb out of Hell; condemning the other to a lower level.

Neither is foolish enough to make the attempt before his enemy has been thoroughly exhausted.

The Dragon stoically watches, slowly walking around the clashing titans, surveying the carnage as they take one another apart piece by piece.

The fight escalates. Morgan is nearly driven over the edge into the coals, but fights his way back to balance. The crowd is possessed, chanting ferociously for their own personal champion.

The Dragon dodges a few swings as the fighters are nearly foaming at the mouth.

NUMBING!

Deimos lifts Morgan close to one of the open pits.

DEVIL’S DUE!

Deimos’ shoulder catches the edge of the pit, and he falls only a few degrees shy of the hundreds of degrees that will end his reign.

The Dragon stares down at the two fallen foes, looking like an ancient god passing judgment, as each struggles to get to his feet.

Moments tick off the infernal clock as the edges of the stage turn black, and planks begin to curl.

Incredibly, both men pull to their feet at the same time.

Like bulldozers playing chicken, the rush at one another again, all steam and guttural roars, and Deimos gains the upper hand as he wraps his hand around the throat of the massive biker.

He lifts him into the air over his own head, grasping him as tight as he grasps his prized possession.

The flames dance in his eyes as he advances toward the nearest pit… only to find that The Dragon, who has lost himself for a moment in his impressed gaping, is blocking his way.

He could have asked him to stand aside.

He could have yelled at him to move.

He shoves at him with his free hand, and the Dragon awakens.

It might be the Yari Kick that was heard ‘round the world.

Regardless of how far away the smack of that kick was heard, it made a hard enough impact to knock the champion from his feet, releasing Morgan in the process.

Cypress coughs and sputters, but, seeing his chance, spits off to the side and grabs Deimos by the hair. He stands him up in front of the grave that was meant for him…

And delivers The Nail in the coffin.

Almost in slow motion, Phrixus Deimos falls backward, his eyes wide in disbelief, his arms stretched out in front of him. Fire motes rise around him as he descends, inch by fiery inch, past the event horizon and into Tartarus.

And the crowd goes fucking nuts.

Cypress Morgan, the lone giant, standing over the pit, staring into the Abyss, knowing it is staring back into him.

He barely registers the tap as Kiseragi presents him with the Cross Hemisphere Championship.

For a moment, he holds it out before him, the flames that are consuming the dethroned Fear licking up at his wrists. For a moment he is the picture of Zane Scott, the picture of Travis Pierce, offering a blood-fed championship to the unforgiving fire.

Then he suddenly pulls it back from the brink, and places it on his shoulder, then turns to the crowd, who’s screams and cheers are drown out as so much background noise.

EMTs and ring crew rush out to douse the flames and help the competitors, as Pepper Phoenix rushes up the stairs to join Cypress Morgan.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, your new Cross Hemisphere Champion… CYPRESS MORGAN!!!”

“We hope you’ve enjoyed every breathtaking moment of PMN’s ‘Wrestlestock: History Repeats Itself’. Join us tomorrow for one more walk in the park as Eden Morgan defends the UGWC Championship against Chaos, Robert Ooley, and Zane Scott! Good night!”

[Jet Somers]

Cypress 26
Fear 21
Jet 14
JK 8

[Jet Somers]

A special thanks must be given to Fear, who came up with the matches and contributed almost all of his own commentary.

Another thanks to Britt, who coached me through that last bit while I was flailing.

[Eden Morgan]

Wow. That was just really, really well done. Completely different from Day One but amazing in its own right.

Let me 'splain. No, it's too much. Let me sum up (sorry I couldn't resist).

Day One exemplified exactly what it was. Chaos. But this day, even with the brutality and aggressiveness of the matches, it wasn't chaotic. It was structured and well-planned, at least on the surface. The matches had this quiet violence to them that was really well done.

I do have to ask... significance of Pierce being missing? Hmm....

All in all, you did a very good job for someone who was freaking out and not sure how much he had left to give. You gave it. Good job, B ^.^

[Erika Langford]

Wow, 8 points? Was not expecting that much! Admittedly it wasn't my best by far
Congrats, Cypress on winning the championship and congratulations to Jet/Ichy/Brandon for a great follow up to Chaos' Chaos day!

[DrunkenBuzzsaw]

I started efedding...God...'99 or '00...and I dont think I've ever seen results done in this fashion. And thats a shame, because I liked it a lot.

The whole thing flowed well, the matches were easy to visualize, and revisiting history with regards to the match types (not to mention the special ref for the finall match)...I enjoyed every second of it.

Damn good work, B.