Winner Takes George Match

Ken Kaze vs. Polar

The games had reached their climax tonight.

The ambushes. The interferences. The battles. The subliminal messages. The near death experiences. The confrontations.

They would all come reach their culmination tonight. Hopefully, this heated rivalry that commenced a few weeks ago would end tonight.

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall,” Clippie Da Clown informed the thousands in attendance, as well as the viewers at home. “The rules in affect are no disqualification rules. Therefore, a winner must be determined either by pinfall or submission. This is a Winner Takes George match.” He paused for a moment, allowing the influx of information to register. “Thus meaning, the winner of this match will contain the rights to George the Trashcan.”

As the lights in the Fleet Center entirely disappeared, an alarming and anticipating calm overwhelmed the fans in attendance. The RaveTron flickered rapidly, unnerving the audience additionally until it finally secured itself onto a screen of snowy static, accompanied by the piercing screech static usually tends to produce. Pyrotechnics rocketed skyward in random assortments of green, white, and yellow as the squealing was quickly replaced by the sounds of Static-X’s “Structural Defect.”

“Introducing first,” Clippie Da Clown began to announce, “he hails from Charlotte, North Carolina. Standing at five feet, eleven inches and weighing in at one hundred ninety-eight pounds . . . he is the Hero of Hardcore, the self-proclaimed Mastermind of the Piledriver, the master of the Doomsday Crucifix . . . he is KEEEEENNNNN KAAAAAAZZZZZEEEE!”

The illumination of the arena had returned as the crowd broke into a chorus of cheers. Emerging from the curtains was Jolt’s Resident Moron . . . Ken Kaze. For the second week in a row, his entrance was diverse. He no longer had his compatriot George the Trashcan accompanying him down to ringside as usual.

He vaulted onto the apron, turning to the entranceway, raising his arms into the air, intensifying the amount of energy inside the arena. He turned back around before springing over the top rope with assistance from the rope itself.

The lights inside the Fleet Center dropped. From the entryway, blue lasers pierced the darkness, followed closely by the sound of blowing wind and thick fog. As the sound of the wind muted, the public announce system came to life.

If you havin’ girl problems, I feel bad for you, son. I got ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain't one!

The Collision Course remix of Jay-Z’s “99 Problems” and Linkin Park’s “One Step Closer” resonated throughout the arena as pyrotechnics rocketed to the ceiling. The crowd roared to life with boos as Polar appeared in the entranceway with two middle fingers saluting the upper-deck.

“Introducing second,” Clippie Da Clown stated, “he hails from Anchorage, Alaska by way of Chicago, Illinois. Standing at well over six feet, with five inches intact, and weighing in at two hundred sixty-five pounds . . . he is the Alaskan Assassin, the Iceman, the master of the Icecap . . . he is none other than POOOOOOOLLLLLLAAARRRRR!”

Jeers pelted the entryway as Jolt's most-hated star made his way ringside snubbing the outstretched hands of fans who were looking to touch any Jolt star’s hand.

As he neared ringside, his eyes met Kaze’s as he came to a halt in front of the ring. The illumination in the coliseum had returned as Polar walked up the ring steps before entering the squared circle by stepping over the top rope. Polar immediately began to approach Ken, talking trash that was inaudible to the viewers at home, before being separated by Jolt Wrestling Senior Official Mark Lenoux.

Lenoux checked to see if both men were ready to begin the match. Both gave the nod, and the match was underway as the bell rang.

DING! DING! DING!

The battle had commenced. The Hero of Hardcore began to circle the Alaskan Assassin, waiting to see if Polar would strike first. Despite his anxiety, Kaze managed to hold back his eagerness to destroy his opponent. Polar would strike first. Polar would display his weaknesses first as well.

And indeed, Kaze had calculated correctly. Well, how about that? When have you ever seen Kaze and the word correct in the same sentence until now? Polar had charged at Ken first, looking to tie up with an elbow-and-collar tie up. Ducking the humungous hands, Kaze managed to access the backdoor before latching on a rear waistlock. An attempted German suplex failed as Ken couldn’t collect enough strength to bring the big man up and over.

Instead, he went with a reverse double leg takedown. Swiveling on the back of Polar, Kaze would have gained two points in a freestyle wrestling match for control as he was now at the front of Polar, sinking in a front facelock. Polar brought himself to a vertical base before picking Kaze up with a waistlock, and slamming him to the mat with a spinebuster.

Rebounding from the maneuver, Ken was on his feet ready to strike. The same for Polar. Kaze charged at the Iceman, leaping into the air hoping for a cross body block. The move was to no avail as Polar caught the flying moron midair, and dropped him to the mat like a ton of bricks with a powerslam. Polar stood up and assisted Ken in doing the same via his hair. An Irish whip sent Kaze into a set of ropes as Polar followed closely behind. As Jolt’s Resident Moron ricocheted from the ropes, Polar took him up and over to the outside with a running lariat.

The fans popped loudly as Polar slid to the outside. He taunted the fans seated in the front row. He specifically spat on a middle-aged man wearing a “GEORGE IS GUUD” T-shirt, who was an obvious fan of both George the Trashcan and Wippit Guud. The fans jeered in response as Polar reasserted his attention back onto Kaze, who was pulling himself up with use of the barricade. Polar applied a kick to the ribs, which sent Kaze onto his back instantly.

“Fuck this maggot!” Polar yelled, incensed.

Polar stomped him once in the gut, twice on the chest, three in the throat, and four to the face for good measure. He doubled over and lifted the lifeless moron before leaning him against the blockade. Rapid knee strikes to the gut were efficient enough to keep Polar on the offensive, before he ended the frenzy of attacks with a discus clothesline, sending Kaze into the crowd.

The crowd cheered as Polar hopped over the barrier, now one amongst the attendants of the Retort. Ken helped himself up to his feet and turned around to meet a stiff right to the jaw. Follow that with a left jab, right hook, a second left jab, and an uppercut, and he found himself back onto the floor. Polar pulled Kaze back up to his feet, but the Hero of Hardcore began to stumble into the depths of the crowd. For a moment, you could’ve sworn they had thought he was Moses as the fans parted like the Red Sea.

Referee Mark Lenoux had followed the two into the audience, making sure to regulate this contest until the end. Polar had seized Kaze now and pulled him up to his feet. After applying a standing headscissors, he lifted Ken into the air before crashing him down onto the cold, unforgiving concrete floor with a powerbomb. Polar threw a random fan out of his seat before folding up that steel chair. You knew what was next.

CRACK!

Right across the skull as the Hardcore Moron had attempted to bring himself to a vertical basis. The advantage of the match thus far had been greatly one-sided, and it was obvious why. Polar is 6’5” 265 lbs. Kaze is 5’9” 198 lbs. This clearly gave Polar the opening match advantage.

The Alaskan native had decided not to relent on the attack as a second chair shot resounded throughout the arena. Polar seized the opportunity by its neck by stomping profoundly on top of the North Carolinian’s cranium. A tiny puddle of blood became visible. Ken was bleeding, but it was nothing serious. Polar lifted Kaze to his feet before raising him high into the air with a gorilla press. The fans nearby marveled at the strength of the Alaskan Assassin, before he released Ken to fall onto the steel chair and concrete floor.

This was no disqualification rules. Anything went. Ken was rolling around on the floor, clutching his chest, panting heavily to inhale that sweet O₂. Polar was turning around, taunting the fans as a couple of sodas landed on his backside. He shrugged it off, not worrying about it the least bit. He was in control of this match, giving Ken the beating of his life. Nothing anyone could do would stop him.

Just as he doubled over to attend to Ken, a soda crashed into his face. A nearby fan began to yell loudly, proclaiming, “YEAH! I GOT HIM! I GOT HIM! DID YOU SEE THAT? I GOT HIM!”

Polar, enraged, approached the fan. “Hey, I admit. You got me. Nice shot. That was a good throw you had.”

“Hey,” the fan retorted, “thanks a lot. Glad ya liked —”

WHAM!

Much akin to what the Back Alley Brawler would have done in this situation, Polar delivered a beautiful right haymaker to the dome piece of the arrogant fan. The lawsuit would be settled later, just as the Brawler would do it himself.

“Yeah, thank you, too. Glad ya liked it,” Polar said while grinning.

A loogie to the face was left as a departure gift as Polar stalked over to Kaze. Ken was stirring to his feet, but Polar was going to make sure this wouldn’t be so. Just as he was about to stomp onto the back of Kaze, something had hit him in the face.

“Taste the rainbow, fagbox!” shouted Ken as he threw a collection of Skittles into the face of Polar.

He emptied the bag into his own mouth before springing to his feet. He reached behind his back before quickly withdrawing something and unleashing it into the face of Polar as well.

THWACK!

A yoyo! Ken had smacked Polar in the bridge of the nose with a yoyo!

“Gotta love the X-Brain, eh? Watch this, I’ll make it sleep for you!”

Ken whipped the yoyo to the ground as it halted and remained an inch from the floor, rotating hastily. With a small tug, it came back to the hand of Kaze before being whipped back down to the pavement.

“Now watch this. I can walk the dog!”

This time the yoyo touched the ground and began to glide across the floor. Another tug caused the yoyo to return to his hand again. However, for a third time, Ken had slung the yoyo back into its sleep mode.

“Now I’ll perform . . . AROUND THE WORLD!”

In an instant, Ken had lifted the yoyo above his head and began spinning it like a lasso. He lowered it slightly and allowed it to whack Polar in the face. Polar was tired of these childish games as he now began approaching Kaze. Meanwhile, Ken was nowhere near done with his amazing yoyo performance as he slung it toward Polar once more. This time, however, it wrapped itself around his neck and began to choke the big man.

Ken pulled on the string, causing Polar to stumble into his reaches. A jumping roundhouse kick sent the big man rocking. A jumping spinning heel kick sent the big man rocking in the opposite direction. A superkick to the midsection caused the Abominable Snowman to double over. Taking a page out of Wippit Guud’s book, Ken handspring-somersaulted over Polar using his back as a springboard. Ken gyrated in the air until he landed on his feet, now on the backside of Polar. However, he still had a grip onto the yoyo string. The momentum forced the Iceman to land back first with a modified choking hangman’s neckbreaker.

Heading back to ringside, the Hero of Hardcore began to drag Polar through the divided crowd, choking the life out of him. As he neared the barricade, he released the grip from the string as Polar dropped to his knees, unwinding the string from around his neck. Ken grabbed a hold of a currently unoccupied chair because the fans were on their feet. He vaulted onto the barricade as the crowd cheered, knowing something crazy was about to happen. He raised the unfold steel chair into the air to strengthen the cheers produced by the crowd.

He leapt into the air, clutching the unfolded chair below him to his chest. As he loomed over his opposition, Polar had not known what was about to hit him. Until . . .

CRUUUUNCH!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

Ken had performed a frog splash from the barricade, using the unfolded steel chair as a cushion between him and his foe’s back. However, steel is never much of a cushion for human flesh and bone, and therefore both of the men were lying on the floor, panting heavily. The aftermath was apparent. Broken bodies and an obliterated chair that meant a certain fan was going to be on their feet the rest of the night. Not as if they cared, as they had been on their feet the whole night to watch the spectacular pay per view event live in person.

Ken was the first to his feet as he leaned limply against the barricade, trying to get as much rest in as possible. Polar began to stir, but it didn’t matter as Ken was now approaching him, deciding against resting and to continue the match despite his exhaustion. Ken assisted Polar to his feet and Irish whipped Polar back first into the barricade. Polar yelled in agony as his back was still in pain from the unfolded steel chair frog splash he had just received.

However, Ken was not relentless as he took to a diving lariat, toppling Polar head over heels to the other side of the blockade. Ken was on his feet, scanning the ring as if he was looking for something. Apparently he had spotted what it was as he threw the ring apron up and began prowling underneath the ring. Out came a table, a wrench, a baseball bat, a bottle of ether, a bag of nails, a rubber chick, a neon green vibrator, and two magazines entitled “Beautiful Bestiality” and “100 Different Ways to Sodomize Your Secksy Grandma with Aaron WrotCOCKski’s Hot Spoon,” respectively.

Instinctively, Ken had set the table up parallel to the ring. After finishing the setup, he grabbed a hold of the rubber chicken and placed it atop the table. Next, he grabbed the neon green vibrator . . . that was already vibrating!

“Wh-wh-whoa-oa. Thisss iss coo-oool,” Ken uttered as his body trembled to the rhythmic patterns of the vibrator. “Thissss shiiii-iittt ha-has m-mooore vo-vooolts than B-Buzzzzzzzed ha-hassss.”

He approached Polar, trembling vibrator in hand, and slapped Polar across the face with it. Followed by another slap, which was not so surprisingly followed by another. Pretty soon, Ken began to become furious that the vibrator did not seem to be affecting Polar as much as he had hoped. Therefore, he took to viciously beating Polar over the head as the thousands in attendance took to cackling at the antics of Ken Kaze. Polar fought against the DILDO OF DOOM~! by getting to one knee with use of the guardrail.

“WHAT? What do you think you’re doing Polar?!” SMACK! “Get back down!” SMACK! “Oh, you don’t wanna go down . . . then I’ll make you EAT THIS DAMN THING! AHAHAHA!”

Ken turned Polar around and attempted to pry his mouth apart with his fingers, but Polar countered. How, you might have asked? Simple.

“AAAAHHHHHHH! REF! HE’S FUCKING BITING ME! AAAAAAHHHHHH, HE’S CHEATING, GOT DAMMIT! STOP THIS! STOP THIS!”

Polar quickly released the bite-hold as he now stood up to his feet. He met Ken with a right hook that sent the Hero of Hardcore reeling. Polar applied a rear waistlock and began to charge at the ring post. With no escape, Ken had to prepare himself for the worst as he was sandwiched, eating the ring post in a matter of seconds. Polar released the hold, but quickly turned Kaze around and applied a waistlock. He lifted Kaze up and charged at the ring post again.

He slammed the small of Kaze’s back viciously into the post. Not once, not twice, not three times, not four times, but five times! He released the hold as the Hardcore Retard dropped to the mat like a sack of potatoes. Polar lifted Ken up and sent him back down to the outside mat covering with a scoop slam, followed by a leg drop to the throat.

“So you like to play with dildos, huh?” Polar said whilst grinning.

He picked up the nearby vibrator and instantly jammed it into the mouth of Ken Kaze!

“Well, eat cock . . . er, dildo, asshole!”

He was just about to hammer it through the cranium of Ken, in an attempt to give a whole new meaning to the term “deep throat,” when all of a sudden he felt his pride being devoured. His family jewels had been robbed. His baby maker was obliterated. Ken had connected with a kick to the balls, of course! He pulled the vibrator out of his mouth and smacked Polar in the face with it as he was doubled over above Ken. Polar crashed to the side of Kaze as Ken leaned over and spat into the face of Polar.

“That shit tastes nasty, homie. You’re a horrible cock, you homo. I – mean – cook! Cock, cook – same thing.”

Ken slid underneath the bottom rope and scaled to the top rope. It was time to bust out the high risk maneuvers, now. Kaze stood tall from the top rope as he looked down below onto the outside mat. He pointed at Polar much to the fan’s approval before taking that leap of faith. His body twisted in midair as light bulbs illuminated the stands. He moved swiftly through the air with a 450 shooting star senton special! His back landed on the back of Polar, distributing a great deal of pain to both men from the vicious maneuver.

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

Polar laid there motionless. Ken was on his side arching his back, writhing in pain. He placed a hand to tend to the point of impact on his spine. Mark Lenoux checked on both men to see if they were still able to compete. Ken was pulling himself up to his feet with use of the ring post as Polar began to stir. Kaze turned around to see Polar on all fours. Ken decided to aid Polar to his feet and threw him into the ring.

Following suit after his opponent, Ken was back inside the ring as well. However, he was actually sitting atop the top rope, awaiting his opponent to make his way to his feet. As Polar finally made his way to a vertical base, Ken soared into the air with a shooting star. Just as the Iceman managed to perform a one hundred eighty degree turn to face Ken, he caught sight of the airborne idiot. With no time to escape, he was caught across the face with an enormous missile dropkick! Shooting star missile dropkick, at that!

The crowd broke into pandemonium at the sight of the amazing highflying, hazardous performance the Hero of Hardcore was giving them. Polar had been sent soaring halfway across the ring, landing onto his neck while stalling in the air momentarily resembling a javelin, until his body’s momentum finally allowed him to collapse over onto his stomach. A kip up brought Ken to his feet as he stalked over to the prone Polar. Ken stepped back three paces before charging toward his immobile opponent. In midst of the charge, he vaulted into the air executing a beautiful standing shooting star press.

Only in this scenario, he decided to take a page out of his friend Love!Love! KAMIKAZE!!!’s book, and decided to tuck in his knees. He collided with flesh that served as the only cushion between his knees and his opposition’s spinal cord. Not much cushion, eh?

STANDING SHOOTING STAR BODY HEAVEN SMASH~!

The audience was in a state of euphoria, displaying their endorsement for the innovative maneuver. Ken was up to his feet now, smirk wide on his face, as he doubled over and lifted Polar to his feet. A kick to the midsection followed by a standing headscissors proved why Ken Kaze is the self-proclaimed Mastermind of the Piledriver, as the Alaskan Assassin’s head was drilled into the canvas with a jumping, doubled underhooked piledriver.

Jolt’s Resident Moron seized the opportunity as he rebounded from a set of ropes and leaped over Polar to continue his run to the parallel set of ropes opposite him. On the return, Ken was airborne looking to connect with a standing senton bomb. However, Polar, who had realized his current situation earlier, had played possum, and now took the time to roll out of the way, Kaze’s head barely missing his back. As Ken crashed to the mat with a thud, Polar found himself helping the moron to his feet by his hair.

Front facelock, followed by the arm being thrown over the shoulder, and Ken was vertically upside down in the air. The crowd jeered as Polar took his time, deciding what exactly he should do with Kaze now in his control. It wasn’t long until he reached a conclusion as Ken came shooting down like a speeding bullet on the receiving end of a powerslam, very similar to Goldberg’s Jackhammer. Of course, the trademark lateral press followed this, which had been the first pin of the evening.

One.

TWO!

Kickout! Polar wasted no time as he was standing on the balls of his feet, beckoning Ken to stand up. Shaking the cobwebs off from that last move, Ken glanced over to Polar and answered the Iceman’s calling. The two locked up with an elbow-and-collar tie-up, another first for the match, as the two men jockeyed for control. Polar, using his brute strength, powered Ken into the corner before harshly releasing the tie-up. He followed this with a kick to the midsection, however, not allowing Ken any bit of an advantage at all. The top turnbuckle became a seat for the retarded one as he slumped forward, looking exhausted.

Polar taunted the crowd. The crowd responded with the trademark widespread jeers and hisses as Polar was standing on the middle ropes. A front facelock had been applied as Polar powered all 198 lbs. of Ken into the air for an enormous . . .

SUPERPLEX!

Despite the superplex being executed by one of the most hated men in Jolt, the crowd popped wildly in support, as they loved to see a good match.

Ken rolled onto his stomach, clutching his back, as Polar did the same. Polar was the first to his feet, though, and quickly applied the boots to the seemingly injured back of Ken Kaze. One, two, three, four stomps had occurred before Polar turned around in a bit of a dance, and jumped into the air, allowing his knees to crash into his rival’s back. Rolling Ken onto his back, Polar made the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

TH—NO!

The Hero of Hardcore managed to get a shoulder up at 2.4 seconds. Polar was not too fond of this as his hands slapped the mat in frustration. He quickly mounted himself over Ken and began to pound endlessly onto the small, open wound he had received earlier courtesy of a chair shot. Blood began to flow as Polar’s massive fists increased the size of the wound. Obviously satisfied with his work, the Alaskan native stood to his feet and ridiculed the crowd.

Whilst clutching his head to tend to the open wound, Ken made it to his knees, watching Polar mock the audience. As Polar turned around to continue his destruction of Ken, a perfect, swift headbutt sent the big man to the ground. Yes, the headbutt had been flawlessly positioned to obliterate the Iceman’s babymaker. Polar had officially been Headfucked.

Ken was now on his feet as he connected with a leg drop across the back of the neck to his foe. With his leg still draped across Polar’s neck, Ken synched in a headscissors, attempting to weaken the neck of his opponent. Polar screamed mercilessly, but to no avail as Kaze did not heed his agonizing cries for help. The headscissors had been released, but Ken’s advantage was still in his favor. A knee caught Polar in the face just as he made it to all fours, but he quickly became reacquainted with the mat as blood flew from his mouth.

Deciding it was the end of the match, Ken wasted no time in latching onto his adversary’s legs and attempting to put them into a figure four. He almost had the hold completed until Polar’s knees sunk to his chest, and quickly shot out catapulting Ken across the ring. As resilient as he was, though, the Hero of Hardcore was up and about, and was back onto the legs of Polar. The same catapult maneuver earlier worked a second time. However, Ken learned his lesson this time as he charged toward Polar, who was lying in a corner.

Leaping over Polar onto the second rope, he stepped up onto the top rope and corkscrew moonsaulted directly onto the chest of his enemy. Ken brought himself as well as Polar to his feet before bending his knees, striking a mock martial arts karate pose. At the top of his lungs, Ken shrilled, “HIIIIIII-YAAAAAA!” before karate chopping Polar in the throat! Yes . . . it had been the Karate Chop of DOOM~!

The devastating blow sliced through Polar’s neck, sending his head into the stands, blood splattering everywhere! A second powerful karate chop sent the antagonist’s headless body orbiting in outer space!

Okay, so that didn’t really happen. Would’ve been cool as hell, though, huh? What actually happened was, after Ken had connected with the karate chop, Polar had decapitated him with a humungous clothesline, causing him to gyrate in the air. Polar continued with his dismantling of Kaze as he sent his rival into the ropes. The Iceman took the initiative to bounce off of the set of adjacent ropes to meet Ken in the center.

And he did. With a picture perfect Frost Bite! For those not familiar with the maneuver, it was a ¾ facelock bulldog, or more commonly known as the Diamond Cutter. The fans’ boos blew the roof off of the coliseum as they knew this was the end. The Frost Bite was one of the Alaskan native’s finishing tactics. The pin had been made as Lenoux dropped to his knees to make the count.

ONE!

TWO!!

THRE—NOOO!!!

A shoulder up at 2.8 seconds! Ken may have been down, but he was not out. Polar’s quick finisher wasn’t efficient enough.

Polar was furious now as Mark Lenoux had failed to make another three count. The Alaskan Assassin signaled the end of the match with a cutthroat gesture, dragging Ken to a corner by his hair. Ken was now leaning face first against the corner as Polar climbed over him to the top rope. The fans boos intensified as they expected what was to come. They could smell the finish of the match looming near. They could hear the corks popping from the champagne bottles as Polar celebrated his victory. They could hear the jubilation Polar and his associates would produce later in the night. Polar doubled over and lifted Ken up onto the second turnbuckle, once more with use of his hair.

As Ken straddled to get an appropriate footing on the middle ropes, Polar already had the standing headscissors applied. His arms took the form of a crucifix as a new wave of intense jeers overwhelmed the entire arena. However, Polar’s crucifix quickly became disassembled as Ken escaped the standing headscissors and positioned a second well-placed headbutt to the groin of his adversary. For the second time throughout the match, Polar had been Headfucked! The audience endorsed this momentum shifter with a fresh wave of cheers conquering the previous fading boos.

Ken decided to take this match to the next level as he literally stepped to the next level – the top rope. With both men dangling on the top rope, Ken applied a front facelock onto Polar. With the his free arm, Ken hooked Polar’s leg, possibly looking for a cradle suplex. Shifting his angle slightly, Ken mustered every ounce of strength in his body to lift the 6’5” giant off of the top rope as he fell backwards to the outside of the ring! The fans in the front row yelled in horror as Ken and Polar were descending from the heavens.

CRUUUUUUUNNNCCCCHHH!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

Ken had executed a cradle suplex through-the-legs piledriver onto Polar through the table onto the outside! What table, you ask? The table Ken had setup in the beginning of the match up.

Both men lay on the outside . . . motionless. Senior Official Mark Lenoux didn’t know what to make of this. The fans, however, knew exactly what to make of this. As they continued their ceremonious HOLY SHIT! chant, a string of fans in the lower level started another.

LET’S GO KEN KAZE! LET’S GO! –clap - clap-

LET’S GO KEN KAZE! LET’S GO! –clap - clap-

LET’S GO KEN KAZE! LET’S GO! –clap - clap-

Apparently, the amount of energy the fans contained must have somehow brought Ken back into consciousness as he began to stir through the crumpled heap that was the table and Polar. On his wrestling tights he noticed a big patch of blood. He quickly began to inspect his body head to toe and found no visible damages, besides the small wound on the top of his head, which had been closed up by dried blood by now. He was quite confused for a moment wondering where the blood could have come from.

It wasn’t until Polar’s body spontaneously jolted that Ken’s attention had been brought back to his opponent. He crawled over to his opposition and lifted their head to see. And to his surprise, he had found his answer.

Polar’s face had been busted wide opened from the head/face first piledriver through the table. Blood was oozing profusely from his head, as it began to form a small puddle on the wreckage of the table. Ken released Polar’s head as he pulled himself up with use of the barricade. Fans began to pat him on the back, wanting to get a piece of the action, as Ken pushed himself away from the blockade and toward Polar. He brought Polar to his feet and rolled him into the ring, causing him to flop over onto his stomach.

Following suit, Kaze was up onto his feet and took to the top rope, realizing this was the perfect opportunity for a high-risk maneuver. The fans’ reaction practically forced him to go through with the move, despite his obvious injuries. Conforming to the audience, Ken, despite his weakened state, took to the skies again. As he body somersaulted one hundred eighty degrees, the fans thought that was almost the end of the line. Nope. They were wrong as Ken’s body continued in rotation, now at four hundred fifty degrees. Uproar filled the stands as they anticipated the 450 splash, but Ken’s continuing gyration caused their excitement to be postponed. The 450 splash turned into five hundred forty degrees, until at last . . . Ken had connected with a brilliant, stunning, and outstanding 630 senton bomb!

Alas for Polar, Ken had landed directly across his already-injured back, only inflicting more serious harm. Ken was desperate to win this match as he continued to do whatever it took, pulling out all of the stops, not letting any obstacle steer him from his course. Being the opportunistic individual he was, Ken hooked both legs of the now finished Polar, staring up into the rafters, a grin widespread across his face.

ONE!

TWO!!

THRE—NOOOOOOOO!!!

KICKOUT! KICKOUT! BY GAWD, KING, IT WAS A KICKOUT! 2.9 seconds. All that was needed was a tenth of a second, and the match was Ken’s. However, Polar was obviously determined not to be defeated like that. Ken was infuriated to all hell. Unfortunately, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

Ken began to punch Polar in the face with repeated Fist of Stone punches, apparently frustrated from the near victory. He stood to his feet, doubled over, and lifted the Iceman to his as well. A last Fist of Stone punch sent Polar rocking as Ken charged toward the ropes. On the rebound, Ken leapt into the air latching onto Polar’s head with a front headlock, hoping to execute a midair tornado DDT. However, Polar had other plans on his mind as he followed through with Kaze’s swing, and SPINEBUSTERED him to hell and back. He would’ve made Brandon Youngblood proud.

Polar quickly mounted himself onto his arch nemesis and delivered a copious amount of Fist of Stone punches to the wound on top of Ken’s head. The gash had been reopened as blood stained the mat. Polar released the mounting position as he stood to his feet. Ken was soon to a vertical basis as well, as he stared across the ring, sneering in disgust at his opposition. Ken charged his opponent and swung his right arm wildly, looking for a running lariat; however, the Alaskan Assassin ducked, but caught Ken in the T-bone position. You knew what was coming next. It was a devastating 90 degree belly-to-belly suplex, otherwise known as an Exploder or Blizzard suplex, which caved Kaze’s skull in!

The lights were out inside Ken Kaze, and nobody was home. Polar hoisted Ken to his feet before throwing him into a corner, allowing his limp body to remain face first against the turnbuckles. Polar had climbed to the aforementioned corner’s top rope. Ken was in between the legs of the Iceman, standing headscissors fashion. This was it. This was the end. There was no escape now. Polar powered Kaze into the air. He looked his archrival in the eye before delivering one last message.

“I WIN, YOU RETARDED FUCK!”

And the 6’5” 265 lbs. Polar was airborne, Ken resting upon his shoulders. The spinal column of Jolt’s Resident Moron meshed with the canvas as he was on the receiving end of a top rope, sit-out powerbomb.

ICECAP!!!

Wait, no – Ken had somehow rolled through and was on his feet, pushing against the legs of Polar, causing Polar’s knees to meet his chest, whilst Kaze gripped his arms for leverage.

ONE!

TWO!!

THRE—NOOOOOO!!!

ANOTHER NEAR KICKOUT! 2.89 seconds. Ken’s reversal of Polar’s finishing maneuver had almost cost him the match.

Kaze looked to be on a roll even though he was bleeding heavily from a the head wound that Polar had created earlier in the match. Polar, though, was in no better condition as blood ran down his face like a red river. Rights and lefts flew like crazy from Kaze as he fought gallantly for his trashcan, George. He sent Polar shooting toward the ropes like a bullet fresh out of a pistol, and on the return he quickly dropped Polar with a drop toehold in the center of the ring. The after effect was Polar’s head bouncing hard off the mat, leaving a large blood splatter underneath his face.

Kaze looked down at his fallen adversary, ready to finish him off and reclaim what was his. He had Polar exactly where he wanted. And with thoughts of vengeance in his mind, Hero of Hardcore quickly latched onto the Iceman’s legs, folding them into a figure four with his hands. With the cloverleaf leglock applied, he flipped Polar over, sinking his right knee into the weakened lower back of Polar. Yes, he had demanded this match to be over with none other than . . .

ST. PATRICK’S SPINAL TAP!

Kaze put this move on with the intention of not letting go as he pulled back, making Polar’s screams echo throughout the arena. Kaze pulled back even harder, putting more pressure on the lower back of Polar.

Polar’s hand began to rise.

Kaze was going to do it; he was going to make Polar tap out. He would be reunited with George in only a matter of moments. With this thought burning like wildfire in his mind, he pulled back even harder, putting more pressure on the lower back and legs of Polar.

“GAHHHHHHHH!” Polar shouted at the top of his longs. “FUCK YOU KKKKKAAAZZZEEEEE!”

Jolt’s Resident Moron’s face had turned into a brilliant shade of red as he mustered every amount of strength in his small frame to make his opponent suffer. He wanted Polar hurt. No, he wanted Polar to be crippled. Better yet – he wanted Polar dead. The fans roared in approval as Kaze wrenched back even harder now, driving his knee further into the spinal column of his giant opposition. It seemed as his goal had been accomplished.

Polar was motionless. Every ounce of movement in his bodily form had ceased to exist. It was over. All Ken needed now was for Polar’s hand to drop three times. Referee Mark Lenoux already seized the limp left arm of the big man.

Completely out of nowhere, “Pet” by A Perfect Circle reverberated off of the walls of the Fleet Center. If everything in the universe could revolve in slow motion, it would have happened at this exact moment in time. The fans seemed to fade into a nonexistent void that swallowed up every last fragment of sound. Time seemed to stand still as Ken Kaze released the hold. He didn’t even hear Polar’s legs smack the mat as he stood up, staring at the entrance ramp, more confused than normal.

There wasn’t a single member on the Jolt roster whose entrance music happened to be “Pet.” So, speaking for the fans in attendance, the viewers at home, and even the Hardcore Retard himself: who the hell was coming out?

Blue flames broke through the void and snapped Kaze back to reality in a harsh manner. His head snapped back and he almost made the old analogy of jumping out of your skin come true. The flames dissipated and Kaze was left staring at the entranceway. His mind couldn’t possibly fathom processing what was going on at the rate it was happening. His eyes darted back and forth like ping-pong balls being violently smacked back and forth in some sadistic ping-pong match up.

It didn’t take too long, though, for Kaze to truly understand what was going on, because through the curtain stepped a giant. It was everything that Kaze’s nightmares were made of. This, whatever it was, seemed to be moving out and toward him now, and every fan in attendance seemed to be too speechless to say a word. Through the curtain stepped one of the proclaimed “cancers” of wrestling.

Through that curtain stepped a riddle that had no solution.

Through that curtain stepped a beast. A Superbeast.

THE Superbeast.

Ken stared, dumbfounded, as the master of the Systematic Shutdown continued walking toward him.

It was none other than . . . SYLO!

If it were possible, the roof would have rocketed from the Fleet Center into space, all the way to the quadrillionth spatial dimension of the galaxy Unity X, into its third planetary star system before engulfing its sun and giving the middle finger to the Lord. Yes, it was that loud. The fans seemed to have still been dazed and bemused from the appearance as the cheers attempted to drown out the jeers, and the boos tried to conquer to the jubilation.

Sylo wasn’t alone, though, because clutched in one hand was Kaze’s faithful companion . . . George. Everything had now fallen into place. It had now made sense. The subliminal messages written in sky blue. Specifically “DIE!” and “REDEMPTION!” The kidnapping of George actually hadn’t been an orchestrated arrangement by Polar. The near death experiences a week prior on Intense, both plans of assault blamed on each other by Kaze and Polar. All along it had been Sylo.

But the questions remained: why? For what reason or reasons? What was his business with these two?

All of that had meant nothing to Kaze at the moment, despite how apprehensive he seemed. It all had soon faded as he began to grin at the sight of George. He began to wave at his pal, almost completely forgetting about what was carrying George. Sylo reached ringside and jumped up on the apron, throwing George in the ring at the same time.

Kaze ran after George, hugging him close, as Sylo stepped over the top rope. Kaze stood up with George and beamed from ear to ear at Sylo, who stared at Kaze with an icy glare that could penetrate even the deepest depths of his soul. With his childlike mind, though, Kaze could not register these thoughts, and soon found himself trying to shake Sylo’s hand.

“Gee! Thanks there, big guy! That stupid fucker Polar stole George from me! But you brought him back for me!”

Kaze turned and stuck his tongue out at Polar, who by now was coming to and trying to get up. Kaze turned back with that same stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay —”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his gratification as he absorbed a massive right hook to his jaw. He flew down to the mat with a thud as Polar had finally made it to his feet. For a moment, he glanced at Kaze. That quickly ended as he turned his attention to Sylo. Who the fuck did Sylo think he was involving himself in this match?

A grin became present of the once-intense face of Polar. He followed this gesture with a simple nod. Sylo just stared.

“You do good work there, big man!” Polar yelled as the fans began to boo.

Polar moved over to Sylo and extended a hand. Sylo gripped it and the two began to shake. The jeers of the fans became louder as the two stood shaking hands. Polar was the one to end the handshake as he pulled away to finish the prone Ken Kaze.

Or so he thought.

Polar seemed to be stuck. He pulled again and his hand wasn’t going anywhere. He turned back to Sylo who greeted him with a snarl. And before he could react, he found himself leveled by a huge clothesline from the Superbeast. For this, the fans erupted into elation like a volcano. They didn’t care that moments ago Sylo had laid out Ken Kaze; they only cared that Polar had just been swindled.

Polar stood up, feeling slightly woozy, and looked at Sylo.

“Why, you son of a bitch!” Polar roared as he charged at Sylo, swinging wildly.

Sylo caught the battle-weary fist, thrown courtesy of Polar International Airlines, and began to squeeze. The Iceman struggled to take control, but Sylo pushed Polar down to one knee. Polar continued to wrestle for power, but Sylo pushed him down on the other knee. Finally, ending the struggle, Sylo drove a massive knee into the chin of Polar.

Nighty night, Polar. Tidey up, ye hear? Don’t let ye old bed bugs bite.

That wasn’t the end. No. Not by a long shot. The Superbeast was not quite done with Polar yet. He picked Polar up upon his shoulders into an Argentine backbreaker rack. It was time for the burial ceremony. Call the funeral home, make reservations. Polar was a dead man as Sylo proceeded to add the exclamation mark to the entire thing. Polar’s feet gyrated into the air in front of Sylo’s body before Sylo spiked the Iceman’s head off of the canvas with a vicious DDT.

THE SYSTEMATIC SHUTDOWN!

Sylo stood up and snarled as he stared down at the fallen Polar. The fans seemed to be going nuts, not caring that they were actually cheering for Sylo. He had just put that asshole Polar in his place and no one minded that . . . at all. Sylo turned around and was met with a hard placed smack from Ken Kaze with George the Trashcan. The resounding strike echoed through out the arena.

“OHHHHHHHHH!” the fans let out in unison.

Kaze smiled a bit, satisfied, until he pulled the trashcan back and noticed that Sylo wasn’t down. Hell, he didn’t even seem affected. He was just standing there . . . bearing a sick smirk on his face. Kaze’s eyes seemed to get bigger but, Jolt’s Resident Moron was determined to take this giant down.

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!

Four shots from George and Sylo was still standing. A wound had opened up on his forehead and blood had began to trickle down his face, yet he still stood there rooted to the spot . . . grinning.

SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!

Kaze finally dropped to one knee, exhausted, propped up against George whilst exhaling and inhaling as rapidly as possible. When he managed to look up, he was horrified. Sylo’s face was covered in a crimson mask, yet he still stood there, beaming – of all things – down at Kaze. Kaze sighed and stared into those endless portals that were Sylo’s eyes and asked a simple question.

“What are you?”

Sylo answered with the only answer he could give: violence. He lifted Kaze up and hoisted him up onto his shoulders. Kaze felt as though he was flying until he was drilled into the mat moments later with the Systematic Shutdown. Sylo stood, peering down at the carnage he generated for a moment, and then pulled Kaze over on top of Polar. Mark Lenoux stood looking dumbfounded at what had just happened.

“Count,” Sylo snarled at Lenoux.

Lenoux quickly dropped to the canvas, obeying like an obedient lapdog.

ONE!

No. It couldn’t end like this.

TWO!!

What the hell was Sylo’s reasoning for even involving himself into this rivalry?

THREE!!!

“Structural Defect” by Static-X ricocheted off of the walls as the victor’s music began to play.

It was over. Ken Kaze had defeated Polar. Maybe not the way he had wanted to, but he had won the battle nonetheless. Despite the match seeming over before his disturbance, Sylo’s interference assisted Kaze all the same.

Sylo turned back to Kaze and picked up his limp body, throwing it over his shoulder. Sylo exited the ring dragging George behind him and holding Kaze as he disappeared to the back.

“The winner of this match, and the man who still maintains the rights to George the Trashcan . . .” Clippie Da Clown began to declare, watching as Sylo vanished from view with both Kaze and George. “The Hero of Hardcore . . . KKEEEENNN KAAAZEEEE!”

Jolt, congratulations, you just signed a man’s death warrant.

Winner: Ken Kaze via pinfall by way of Sylo’s beneficial interference

Time: 17:56