M1 | Azrael vs. Jakob Azazel Cruiser-X Championship Qualifier

TeamMoose Posts : 2881 Join date : 2014-04-02 Age : 29

DUE: Saturday the 6th of September 11:59 PM EST

TeamMoose Posts : 2881 Join date : 2014-04-02 Age : 29

The two men stand opposite each other in the squared circle. The slightly larger of the two wrestlers – Azrael – slowly tilting his head to one side, the cartilage forcing air sockets to burst and crack as he does so. His upper lip curls as he measures up the opposition. The chimes of the ring bell announce the beginning of the night’s opening bout and right away The Bastard Son steams ahead toward his opponent. “Magic” Jakob Azazel holds his hand up in a gesture to stop the formerly masked mad man and, surprisingly, he obliges. Producing a deck of cards seemingly out of nowhere, Azazel fans the entire deck out in one swift movement of his fingers and thumb and lays his hand out, requesting that the Centralian chooses a card. The curl of the lip grows again and the Violet-Eyed Psycho slaps the cards out of the Magician’s hand, forcing most to ring side, though a few do remain in the corner of the ring, the crowd roars out, many booing as they wanted to see a magic trick though a select few who follow wrestling in a ‘purer’ sense cheer as they just want to see some wrestling.

JM: Look at this clown, fucking around with magic rather than getting on. God damn if I wanted to watch some loser attempt magic I’d watch the next David Blaine special, not come to a live Vendetta! I’m glad Azrael bitch slapped this bitch's bitch-ass cards out of his bitch hands, now I hope he beats this bitch black and blue. Shit!

Jakob’s gaze concentrates on his deck of cards that have been cast from his grip, a stupid mistake for one with so much in ring experience. The maniac unmasked follows up the slap of the cards with a stiff right hand, catching the Demon Hunter on the chin, though it’s nowhere near as dangerous as the hook he received off of the Barbarian Lord a week prior, the shot does send the Englishman reeling and he stumbles backward into the ring corner. Azrael continues this onslaught of pugilism, pummelling Sir Realist’s midsection with powerful punches, one after the other, over and over again. Each shot causing the six foot two inch competitor to lurch forward out of the corner, only to collapse back in to it again. The veteran’s ribs begin to turn into beetroot bruises and he clutches them as the psychopath affords him a respite after the beating. This, however, does not last for long as Azrael takes hold of Jakob’s wrist and pulls him toward himself. The Maniac Unmasked places his hand on his victim’s shoulder as he passes by and pushes him forward with all of his might, sending him into the opposite corner via an Irish Whip. The Englishman’s back crashes hard against the padded turnbuckles, though the tender flesh surrounding his ribs makes this a painful experience, evidenced by the arching of his back upon impact and the grimace of his face. Like a bull seeing the red of a matador’s flag, The Bastard Son of Babylon charges at his opponent, extending his arm out by his side, perhaps a little too early. This gives the technical wizard the cue to push up with his legs and extend them both out, catching the locomotive manifesting itself as Azrael in the chest with the soles of both wrestling boots. This staggers the brutish brawler long enough for Jakob to pull himself up to the second turnbuckle and to leap from this elevated position toward the Violet-Eyed Psycho, catching a hold of his arm on the way down and pulling him half way across the ring via a diving arm drag. Jakob places his left arm across his torso after landing, his ribs obviously still causing him a great deal of pain. No sooner does Azrael land on his shoulder does he roll through onto a knee, his opposite hand’s fingers resting on the canvas to keep his balance. He lunges forward, with a wild left haymaker towards Magic, who leans back, the fist of Azrael skimming past the cheek of the English wrestler. The momentum of the unmeasured strike carries Mayhem Unmasked and caused him to stumble, leaving himself wide open. The Warlock capitalises on this opening and clasps his hands around the waist of his faltering adversary, before heaving himself backwards, lifting Azrael up and over before driving his neck and shoulders down into the cold canvas.

TC: Jakob Azazel finally gets some offence in and plants Azrael with that beautifully executed German Suplex. That was prettier than a prized painting.
JM: The fuck do you know about art? If it doesn’t feature nips or bush it ain’t worth looking at…
TC: You really are a horrible human being Joey, you know that?
JM: Fuuuck you, ya fucking prude.

Both men lie defeated on the mat, the Pennsylvanian, clutches at the back of his neck, rubbing it periodically, while the British combatant just lies prone, his chest rising and sinking as he takes in deep breaths, each one causing his bruised ribs to ache. The referee begins his count and both competitors show signs of life and begin the stir. Jakob slowly makes his way to the ropes, planning on using them as leverage to help get him to his feet while Azrael rolls over onto his stomach, pushing himself up to a knee. The crowd begin the stamp their feet and clap their hands as they try to encourage the wrestler’s to their feet and continue the match; no one wants to see it end via a ten count, nor do they want to see it end so early on. At the count of six Azrael is the first to his feet, and he comes lumbering over to Jakob who is bent over clutching the middle rope. Azrael raises his fists high in the air, intent on bringing them clubbing down across the back of his opponent. The Heir of Empty Breath has other plans it seems and takes two steps forward before thrusting the sole of his boot into the gut of the avenging spirit of justice, doubling him over. Azazel grabs onto the top rope and takes a quick glance over his shoulder, measuring the distance from the rope to his opponent. After this split second he returns focus to the rope and squats, planning to use the tension and pent up energy in the stretched ropes to propel him up into the air. He relaxes the muscles in his legs and is slingshotted up into the air, a little assistance from him forcing himself off the floor in a jump. He lands on the middle rope, again causing tension under his bodyweight and as the elastic recoil kicks in, he pushes off of the cable, twisting his body in mid-air, stretching his limbs out as far as he can. He collides with his opponent, taking them both down to the mat. Carrying on with the momentum though, Azrael rolls through and Entropy’s Servant brings himself back up to a vertical base, with Jakob clutched laterally across his chest.

TC: And Azrael just rolled through that springboard crossbody by Jakob! It seems neither man can get a definitive advantage over the other thus far in the match!
JM: Please, we all saw what happened last week. Jakob’ll get over confident and try some bullshit magic and Azrael will cave his face in with his fist. One, two, three, thanks for coming Jakey, fuck off back to England.

The formerly-masked delinquent grins as he drops to a knee, driving the already battered and bruised ribs of his victim down onto the hard bone of his joint. He stands up before once again delivering a vicious rib-breaker, the body of Jakob almost folding at the ribs around Azrael’s leg. The beaten Brit cries out in pain as the knee digs deep into his ribs, the agony quickly spreading throughout his entire being. Entropy’s Servant hauls the limp and broken carcass of his prey up onto his shoulder, before driving both bodies down into the mat, the unfortunate receiver of the Oklahoma slam crashing back first against the canvas. Jakob writhes on the mat, the spine-shattering impact of the move shooting pain across his torso like tiny bullets turning his body to Swiss cheese. The dominant wrestler slithers over the mat like a serpent from your worst nightmares, hooking the leg of the Englishman as he pins his shoulders to the mat. The official begins his count. [ONE] [TWO] – The Magician forces his shoulder up off of the mat, perhaps he cast an undying spell on himself earlier in the day, who knows?

TC: Azazel’s ribs are taking a helluva beating in this match. You’ve got to think the longer this goes on the harder it’s going to be on him…
JM: Why’s that? Because Azrael’s gonna beat the fuck out of them some more?
TC: Not that. It’s got to affect his stamina, having sore ribs is really going to restrict his breathing. Each breath in is going to hurt, so his breaths will be getting shallower throughout this match up. He’s going to struggle in the later stages.
JM: He’s fucking struggling now…

Mayhem Unmasked runs his hand down his exasperated face. He really thought that would put this match away. Taking a handful of Jakob’s jet black locks, Azrael decides to take his frustrations out on the unfortunate soul, short, swift shots of his closed fist pound away at the forehead of his opponent, until he drips precious rubies. The plasma begins to slowly trickle from the small cut above Azazel’s left eye, soon getting in to it and impairing his vision. Again, The Bastard Son of Babylon pins The Heir of Empty Breath’s shoulders down to the mat and hooks a leg, keeping it as close to his body as possible. The monochromatic official again drops to the mat and begins his count. [ONE] [TW-] Jakob kicks his legs, the momentum of the movement bringing his shoulders up off of the canvas. Taking a handful of hair again, the American brings himself and his involuntary puppet up to a standing base. He pulls Jakob in tight, clutching his wrist. He pushes Azazel back, squatting down as both of their arms extend and stretch. Using all of the might in his legs, the violet-Eyed Psycho digs his heels into the canvas and straightens his knees, contracting the muscles in his arms he pulls the limper wrestler towards him and sends him into the corner courtesy of a strong Irish Whip. Jakob almost flips backwards over the top turnbuckle from the force as he collides. The once-masked mauler develops a sick grin and moves in like a shark that smells blood in the water, in mere moments he is upon Jakob, delivering blow upon blow to his now open wound. The madman takes a hold of The Shining Superstar’s head with both hands and proceeds to sink his teeth into the forehead, prompting the victim to scream out in agonising pain. Jakob ends this agony by placing a knee into the gut of his assailant who pulls away, his mouth looking like he’d just chomped down upon a watermelon, Azazel’s face now a crimson mask. Magic rests in the corner for a brief second, catching his breath and spraying the blood that leaks into his mouth. He grabs the scruff of the neck of his doubled-over opponent and throws him into the corner. Noticing the remainder of his deck of cards at his feet in the corner, The Warlock bends down and scoops up a hand full, flashing each card at his opponent proclaiming “IS THIS YOUR CARD?!” before slapping it hard across Azrael’s chest in a knife-edge chop. This receives the occasional “WOO!” to accompany the chop, but the majority of fans are actually puzzled at the involvement of playing cards. When all of the cards of the original deck are used up Jakob begins to produce new cards, seemingly out of nowhere. He slides his hands across his shoulders, thighs, his rear and even from behind his head, each time producing a new card that is subsequently slammed into the chest of his opponent.

JM: Where the fuck are these coming from?
TC: Well Jakob does claim to be a ‘Master of Majik’, he could be using his powers to produce the cards…
JM: POWERS? He’s a fucking witch?! Where’s the angry villagers?! SOMEONE BUILD A STAKE AND START COLLECTING FIREWOOD DAMMIT!

The magical barrage is ended by Jakob turning on his heels and sprinting into the ropes behind him. Azrael stumbles out of the corner and drops to a knee, clutching his arms across his chest as if his arms can suck the soreness out of his pecs. The rebounding Magician uses the raised knee as a platform and steps on to it, swinging his hips and carrying his momentum through his leg as his knee comes crashing into the jaw of his opponent’s head, whipping his head back before his body collapses onto the floor. Jakob crashes down next to him on his back, driving the air out of his lungs, causing him to wince in pain due to the tenderness of his already worked over ribs. The crimson mask that adorns Jakob’s face sputters as his heavy breathing expels the plasma from his agape mouth. Fatigued and grimacing, the English-born competitor rolls himself over onto his stomach, keeping his left arm pressed across his gut he drags himself over to his prone opponent with his right, eventually collapsing and drooping the arm over Azrael’s chest. Ryu drops to the mat to begin the pinfall. [ONE] [TWO] [THR--] Azrael’s clenched fist is thrust up into the air breaking the count. The dazed and tired veteran slowly raises his head, the blood dripping off of the end of his chin, until his gaze meets that of the closed fist. He can scarcely believe that the Bastard Son kicked out of his shining wizard. He wipes some of his blood out of his eyes and flicks his hand free of the residue, creating small blood spatters on the canvas.

TC: That’s a lot of blood for something this early in the evening…
JM: So fuck, get the fans warmed up for the King of Xtreme tournament that’s due to start, oh it’s the most wonderful time of the year Ted!

Azazel wraps his arm around the head of his opponent and clutches tightly to his own wrist. He begins to writhe and tense his bicep as he tries to crush the head of his opponent in this grounded inverted headlock. He walks his legs along the canvas until he’s in a more comfortable, seated position, and he continues wrenching at the neck and cranium of the man in his grip. Azrael attempts to get a finger into the eyes of his aggressor, but Jakob turns his head, this does create enough slack for Azrael to roll over onto his stomach though. The crowd becomes restless, hungry for more action and not this basic standoff. Azrael uses his superior strength and begins to bring the hold up to a vertical base. Once both wrestlers are in a standing position, Jakob quickly drops to a knee, to crank up the pressure being exerted upon his opposition’s spine. Knowing his technical prowess isn’t going to get him out of this situation, Entropy’s Servant resolves to go with what brought him to the dance and begins to strike out at the damaged torso of his opponent. Each strike significantly weakens Azazel’s hold until Maniac Unmasked is able to slip his head out of the noose of the Magician’s arms. He takes a hold of this loop as if it were a handle and uses it to spin the wrestler around on his heels, before lunging forward, almost decapitating the bloodied wrestler with a vicious lariat that takes both superstars down to the mat.

TC: MY GOD WHAT A LARIAT! HE DAMN NEAR TOOK JAKOB’S HEAD CLEAN OFF!
JM: Yeah, Here’s fuckin’ Johnny, just like The Shining, except Azrael doesn’t end up frozen to death.

The spot where the arm made contact with Jakob’s face on Azrael’s shirt sleeve is stained with blood. Looking down at his arm Azrael smirks. He pushes up off the mat and slides a knee in underneath his mass. He takes another handful of Azazel’s hair and drags both of them up to a standing position. Jakob is hardly able to stand on his own, his posture is slouched and his breath heaving. His body hurts and he’s lost a lot of blood. The Violet-Eyed Psycho places his free hand on the top rope and uses it as leverage to drive his opponent’s bloodied skull into the thinly padded turnbuckle, leaving a feint stain. This process is repeated thrice, each time the head whips back after impact until it comes to a halt, wearily resting against the padding, blood still draining, specks flicking from his mouth. His opponent turns him so his back is against the turnbuckle, then retreats, standing there, tilting his head to the side as he did at the beginning of the match. A sadistic grin grows across the mouth of Azrael before be bursts down, driving his shoulder into the gut of his wounded opponent. Azazel doubles up over the back of his opponent, spit and blood flying from his mouth as his body collapses in on itself, his head and neck rigid, his eyes wide and mouth agape. The Bastard Son of Babylon places his hands on the back of the Heir of Empty Breath’s thighs and hoists him up onto his shoulder before placing him upon the top turnbuckle. One quick hook to the jaw dazes the beaten Brit further and Azrael begins to mantle up the turnbuckle. He places the bloodied and battered head of Jakob underneath his arm and slings the limp arm of the opponent over the nape of his neck. He takes a hold of Sir Realist’s tights in his free hand and pulls up, but Jakob’s entire body stiffens making it nigh on impossible to move him. Again Azrael tries but again it is to no avail. This time, Azazel delivers body shot after body shot, each one buckling the Centralian, the combination ending with a hard European uppercut, knocking the bigger man from the height. He lands on his back but rolls through it before charging back toward the mounted Englishman who thrusts his palm out and yells “STOP!” Everything in the ring ceases to move, including the referee. “Is that your card?!” Jakob announces whilst pointing down. Azrael follows the direction of Azazel’s finger, mentally extending the line down to his boot. He reaches in and begins to pull out a card. As his opponent is bent over, the Wizard smirks, he crudely drops from the top turnbuckle, hooking the head of his opponent on the way down and planting it into the canvas with a thunderous DDT. A few seconds pass then Jakob rolls up onto his shoulders and kicks his legs up, turning his body in mid-air and landing on his feet. He scoops up the card from Azrael’s boot and shows it to the camera, it’s the coloured JOKER card from his original deck. The Demon Hunter backs himself into the far corner and begins to flutter his hands up and down, palms faced upwards whilst chanting, trying to bring Mayhem Unmasked up to a prime position. Once again Azrael takes a knee and Azazel charges towards him, stepping up onto the knee. This time, however, he tries to hook the leg around the skull and Azrael ducks causing Jakob to crash chest first into the ropes. Upon the rebound he backs straight into the awaiting sociopath, who tucks his head underneath The Shining Superstar’s armpit.

JM: HUSH! This is all but over kid.

As Joey predicts Azrael lifts his opponent up for his finishing move, but Jakob rolls back over his shoulder, landing on all fours; a prime position to stick his head between the legs of his somewhat confused adversary. He grabs onto the knees of Azrael and screams out in pain as he begins to stand up straight, his ribs feeling like they’re about to give out under the additional mass now pressing down on his shoulders. The crimson mask drips and his entire body shakes as he carries his rival who's sat upon his shoulders. A final war cry as he hoists him up high enough just so he can slip his head back from between the legs and, as Azrael begins to descend, he catches his opponent around the waist and falls backwards, planting Entropy’s Servant’s shoulders into the canvas, arching his own back in order to keep the hold. The zebra clad arbiter slides into a prime position and begins his count [ONE] [TWO] [THREE]! The bell rings out and Jakob breaks his pinning hold. He struggles to make it to his feet, carried on purely through adrenaline alone, hanging onto the top rope as the referee raises his hand in victory. Vendetta cuts to a commercial break just as the camera zooms in on the grimacing face of the victor as he clutches to his hurt ribs.

OOC: Good luck, Meth, and me. Had a hard time writing this x_x
________________________________________________________

DING DING DING

As the bell rings, the Magician stares at his opponent without fear, radiating a sort of playful aura around him. Opposite of the Warlock, the Bastard Son of Babylon stands unmoving, his eyes fixed on his opponent without any hint of emotion. After a while, Azrael is the first to pursue his opponent, marching towards him with the intention of delivering “punishment” for whatever it may be. Just as he gets within striking range of his opponent, the Heir of Empty Breath suddenly pulls out a white feather. He outstretches his arm, displaying the object in front of him. The Violet Eyed Psycho looks at the cloud colored plume for a moment, then quickly puts his attention back on Jakob Azazel. Before Azrael can go on with his pursuit, Sir Realist then pulls out a lit match,waving it in front of his face. Once again, Azrael only gives short notice to this, while the audience simply grows with anticipation for what the fan favorite will do next. The official, Ryu Sanu, however does not. The man in the zebra striped shirt steps in between the two competitors, trying to get Azazel to stop bringing different foreign (yet harmless) objects out. The referee attempts to take the objects away, but Azazel quickly lights the feather on fire with the match. He moves the hand holding a feather in a quick, fashion, blurring what’s happening. As his hand stops, he is now holding a dove. The fans cheer for the skilled magician, and even Ryu Sanu stares at the competitor in a bewildered fashion.

|Miles| ”Did he just rip off Darcy Oake? Darcy fucking Oake?”

|Cedar| ”Azazel displaying his um...craft, here.”

Entropy’s Servant is momentarily taken aback by the display of trickery. This shock slowly turns into angst, as he resumes to approach his opponent. Noticing this, Sir Realist quickly takes two steps back, releasing the dove and letting it fly to the side. He pulls out another feather and a match hastily, before lighting the plume and conjuring another feathered friend. Looking to hinder his opponent, he outstretches his arm at Azrael, sending the dove flying toward him. The Bastard Son of Babylon anticipates this, quickly stepping to the side and avoiding the flying animal. With the distraction missing the Maniac Unmasked, Azrael charges at the Warlock and lifts his knee, driving it into Jakob’s stomach. The Heir of Empty Breath doubles down, groaning in pain from the shot. As the Magician attempts to get back to a vertical base, the Violet Eyed Psycho quickly places a hand on the trickster’s nape, then his other hand on his lower back; forcing Azazel to stay in that position. Azazel tries to get up, moving around wildly and trying to escape the mad man’s grip. This only angers the Slayer of Sinners, who plants his foot behind him, only to ricochet it back and drive another knee, this time to his opponent’s chest. Jakob Azazel turns over and falls flat on his back, quickly placing his hand on his chest in an attempt to nurse the pain given through the hammer like blow. Azrael slowly approaches his apponent, his gaze still afixiated on his opponent; showing no hint of remorse whatsoever. The crowd begins to voice their displeasure at the cheap shot,booing their hearts out.

|Cedar| ”What a cheap shot! Jakob Azazel just wanted to have a little fun and give the fans a good time.”

|Miles| ”Oh come on, cause doves in a match are totally legal. Double fucking standards.”

Azrael stands next to the Warlock, now on all fours and slowly trying to get to his feet. The Maniac Unmasked quietly observes his struggling adversary, showing no empathy whatsoever. A few moments pass, and it seems as if the Bastard Son of Babylon has become statue like. As Azazel gets to one knee, the Slayer of Sinners suddenly reaches his hand out at grabs a handful of the Durham native’s hair; then violently yanks him back to a vertical base. With the Magician disoriented from the sudden move, he isn’t able to avoid the next assault; as Azrael places his hands behind Jakob’s neck and lowers his opponent’s head in a Muay Thai Clinch. Almost immediately after, he takes a step back, only to immediately launch his knee into Sir Realist’s skull, all the force being expelled through the pointed limb. The Magic Man desperately flails around, trying to escape the hold, but is stopped as another knee is thrown onto his face. The Violet Eyed Psycho then releases the hold, causing Azazel to fall down. Before the Warlock can hit the ground, Azrael quickly grabs his opponent’s head and pulls it under his arm.The Maniac Unmasked falls back in a swift fashion, driving the Magician’s head into the canvas and sending a shot of pain through his neck. Jakob quickly grabs his head from the throbbing pain as he lies flat on his belly. A few moments later, Azrael gets on top of him and hooks his leg, going for the pin.

|Referee| ”1! 2!”

The Warlock manages to get his shoulder up at 2, saving his behind. Realizing he hasn’t done enough, the Hellbent Judge gets back to his feet with an infuriated look on his face. He grabs the Magician’s arm and pulls him up to his feet, the Shining Superstar visibly groggy from the assault he’s taken in the match. Azrael pulls Azazel towards him and irish whips him towards the ropes. The Demon Hunter ricochets back towards the Maniac Unmasked, but then suddenly jumps up at the last second horizontally, colliding with his opponent and dropping him down to the mat with a running crossbody. The Heir of Empty Breath quickly gets back to his feet, and runs towards the ropes. The Bastard Son of Babylon doesn’t stay down for long, but he doesn’t stay on his feet for long either. Jakob jumps up onto the middle rope and launches himself off it, flipping backwards and meeting the Centralian head on, both competitors crashing down to the mat. Finally gaining a bit of momentum, the English man gets back to his feet and takes both of the Slayer of Sinners’ legs, tucking them under his arms. Sir Realist then slowly turns his adversary and himself around. This takes a few moments, as Azrael keeps shaking in an attempt to escape, but eventually The Warlock locks in the Boston Crab. The Hellbent Judge’s face grimaces in pain as the Magician contorts his body back even further, applying excruciating pain to the spine. Azrael starts groaning in pain, his eyes shutting tight from the extreme discomfort courtesy of the submission hold. He flails his legs, but Jakob has them locked firmly in place. The crowd starts to cheer for the Magic Man, screaming the word “Tap!” repeatedly as Azazel cranks back even further, gritting his teeth and using as much strength as he has to apply the most pressure. Azrael pushes his legs back as hard as he can, trying to fight out of the hold. With one last warcry, the Maniac Unmasked is able to power out of the hold by kicking his legs back, causing the Shining Superstar to stumble forwards.

|Cedar| ”It looks like the magician’s finally got some momentum!”

|Miles| ”It won’t last long, that’s for fucking sure.”

While the Violet Eyed Psychopath struggles to get to his feet, crawling towards the ropes for support; Azazel has already recovered. Instead of capitalizing on the situation however, the Demon Hunter unexpectedly pulls out a deck of cards. He cuts the deck, and then masterfully displays a Les Paul deck spread, forming an “S” shape with the cards. He slowly approaches the Hellbent Judge, who is now on one knee with an arm slung over the middle rope for support. The Warlock forwards his hands towards Entropy’s Servant’s face, who looks at him with indifference once again.

|Azazel| ”Pick a card, any card!”

The Maniac Unmasked gets back to his feet, looking annoyed at his opponent. He slowly approaches him, which makes the Magician back away a few steps. As the Bastard Son of Babylon nears the Trickster, Azazel suddenly throws all 52 cards at Azrael, disorienting his opponent. Looking to capitalize, he runs back at the ropes and rebounds back, jumping forwards and kicking his legs out, his feet connecting with the Slayer of Sinners’ chest. Azrael drops down to the mat like a rock, while Azazel gets back up to his feet

|Azazel| ”See my magic! Telekenesis! I MAKE THINGS FLY!”

The XWA faithful give a little collective chuckle at the Magician’s antics, clearly having fun. The Warlock then measures the Violet Eyed Psychopath up, waiting for him to get one knee, perhaps to hit one of his many “shining” manuevers. Azazel lowers his stance, stretching his arms in preparation to pounce on his prey. As the Centralian finally gets to one knee, the artsy trickster immediately charges at his target. Before Jakob can even step on Azrael’s knee, however, Azrael suddenly uses his planted foot to launch himself forwards, his shoulder colliding with the Warlock’s abdomen and tackling him down to the mat. Visibly incensed, the Hellbent Judge is quick to adopt a full mount position; following it up instantly with repeated hammerfists to Sir Realist’s chest and head over and over and over. The poor Shining Superstar puts his hands up and tries to block the barrage of bombs, but all this does is damage his arms. Alternating shots to Azazel’s ribs and skull, beating the trickster down. At this point, Referee Ryu Sanu steps in and orders Azrael to lay off; as this is quickly turning into a mugging. The Maniac Unmasked complies, getting back up to a vertical base and observing his opponent, who immediately rolls away towards the bottom rope, a hand on his temple, and the other on his chest in an attempt to nurse himself from the bludgeoning he’s received. Azrael approaches his opponent and grabs his hair, yanking him back up to his feet. He grabs on to his arm, and pulling him in front of him and then pushing him away, irish whipping the Magician towards the turnbuckles. Azazel is able to turn around at the last second before colliding with the padded steel, back first. Jakob bends his head back and slings his arms over the top rope in an instinctual reaction from his spine colliding with metal. The Warlock nods his head back down as he catches his breath, while the Bastard Son walks towards him with bad intentions. Halfway there, Azrael suddenly charges at the Heir of Empty Breath, jumping up at the last second and raising his leg. The pointed limb connects with the Shining Superstar’s chin, making Azazel’s head whip back from the brutal shot. Azrael follows it up, wrapping his arm around Sir Realist’s head, locking in the single collar tie clinch. He winds his arm back down, and quickly launches his fist up towards Azazel’s abdomen with an uppercut. The Violed Eyed Psycho retracts his hand and launches it against Azazel’s stomach again, doubling down the Magician as he coughs in pain from the strike. Unsatisfied, Azrael launches another uppercut, this time to the Magician’s chin. Jakob finds himself leaning on the turnbuckles again, but this isn’t for long as Azrael proceeds to launch knees onto his abdomen in sequence, not stopping until the Warlock finds himself flat on his ass, leaning his back on the middle turnbuckle. With the Magic Man barely knowing where he is, Azrael backs himself up to the opposite side of the ring. Eyeing his prey, he stampedes towards him, then raises his boot at the last second and drives it into the Demon Hunter’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. Azrael plants his foot back on the mat; while Azazel falls down to the side, under the bottom rope. Thinking what he’s done is enough to end this, Azrael grabs the fallen Magician by his wrists and eerily drags him towards the center of the ring, much to the dismay of the fans in the audience. Just as it looks like Azrael is going for the pin, he pulls his opponent by the arm up to a vertical base. The Maniac Unmasked grabs ahold of the Warlock’s hands and crosses his own arms, also crossing his opponent’s in the process. Azrael kicks Azazel in the gut, doubling him over; then pulls him towards him, tucking his head under Entropy’s Servant’s arm. The Bastard Son places his left forearm under Jakob’s abdomen; then lifts him off his feet with all his strength. Finally, he falls back, driving Jakob’s head down to the mat with a straitjacket lifting DDT which Azrael calls Pop Goes the Weasel.

|Cedar| ”Pop Goes the Weasel! Things are looking bad for the Warlock!”

|Miles| ”Told you he won’t last long.”

Azrael goes for the cover, hooking his opponent’s leg.

|Referee| ”One! Two! Th-”

Jakob manages to kick out before the three count seals his fate. With his opponent kicking out, Azrael grabs ahold of his opponent’s arm and pulls him up to his feet. He turns his opponent around, then slings Azazel’s arm over his neck, looking to hit his Omega Driver finisher called Hush. However, he can’t seem to lift the man, for some reason. The Maniac Unmakes tries a few more times, though he finds himself unable to. Azrael displays a look of confusion, but then suddenly Jakob snaps back to reality and uses his other hand to hold onto his arm slung over his opponent’s head, synching in a tight headlock. Azrael attempts to squirm his way out of it, but the Warlock has the hold in tight. He squeezes his head further, wearing the Bastard Son down.

|Azazel| ”I’ve used my MAGIC to hinder you unable to use your finisher before this match even started! HA!”

The crowd buzzes from the Magician’s statement in awe, while Referee Ryu Sanu walks up to the two competitors, checking if Azrael would like to tap. Azrael eventually repeatedly elbows the Warlock’s abdomen, forcing him to release the hold. As the Slayer of Sinners turns back to face his opponent, he’s met with a boot to the chin courtesy of a super kick. Before Azrael can fall down to the mat, The Magician grabs ahold of him, wrapping his arms around his waist. He then bends back, tossing him over his head with a Belly to Belly Suplex. Azrael arches his back in pain, while Azazel quickly makes his way to the ropes and exits through the middle rope, standing on the apron. He climbs up to the top rope. He leaps up and swings his legs out, crashing it into the Maniac Unmasked’s throat. Azrael’s legs flail up from the impact. Jakob gets back up and moves away from his opponent, looking to hit one of his Shining moves. After a while, Azrael gets back to one knee, barely knowing what’s coming. Upon seeing this, the Shining Superstar dashes at him, stepping on his opponent’s knee and falling to the side. He then uses his other foot to kick the back of Azrael’s head, knocking him down on his belly with a step up enziguri, or Glimmering Warlock. Jakob rolls his opponent to have him lying on his back, then hooks his leg, going for the cover.

|Referee| ”One! Two! Th-”

Azrael kicks out, continuing the match. Sir Realist gets back up to his feet and measures his opponent up, waiting for him to get up. As Azrael gets to one knee, Azazel positions himself behind his opponent, looking to hit his Sleight of Hand move, otherwise known as an Electric Chair German Suplex. Azrael gets to his feet, but before he can face his opponent, Jakob tucks his head in between his opponent’s legs and grabs a hold of his calves. He then gets back to a vertical base, lifting Azrael over his shoulders in the process. The Maniac Unmasked flails around, trying to escape; while Jakob stumbles back and forth trying to regain his balance. Not wanting to meet his end, Azrael begins throwing fists on top of his opponent’s skull, each shot instantly followed with another, battering Azazel’s temple. The beating goes on, hindering the Warlock’s intentions of ending the match. The Centralian leans his body forwards in an attempt to make this harder for the Heir of Empty Breath, which proves to be benefitial for him; as the Durham Native falls down flat on his back a few strikes later. Azrael quickly returns to a vertical base, then runs towards the ropes. Sir Realist gets back to his feet, but this isn’t for long, as the Hellbent Judge rebounds from the ropes and outstretches his arm at the last second, hitting Jakob with a Clothesline from Hell with incredible velocity, which makes him fall down to the mat, almost decapitating him.

|Miles| ”Here’s fucking Johnny!”

Instead of going for the pin, Azrael heads for the nearest turnbuckle and starts removing its cover. Ryu Sanu attempts to reason with him, but Azrael doesn’t even give him a glance.

|Azrael| ”You may have disabled my finishers, yes.”

Azrael continues to remove the cover as he speaks

|Azrael| ”Yet all my other maneuvers are still available. Don’t be so confident, Azazel.”

The Slayer of Sinners removes the cover and tosses it to the outside, and turns to face his opponent, who is now almost to his feet. Upon seeing this, he quickly approaches him. Unfortunately for him, he’s met with a sudden kick to the gut from a dashing Magician. Azrael doubles down, but Jakob follows it up with another kick to the abdomen, making him drop to one knee. The Magician backs up a bit, then runs at his opponent, stepping up onto his knee. While in the air, Azazel grabs his opponents arm and pulls it towards him, then proceeds to wrap his legs around Azrael’s head. He falls to the mat, and proceeds to constrict his opponents neck with a Shining Triangle.

|Cedar| ”Shining Triangle! It’s over!”

|Miles| ”Oh fuck no.”

Azrael flails his legs around from the threat of passing out, but Azazel locks it in tighter. Ryu Sanu checks if the Bastard Son wants to tap, but he is given no attention. Azrael’s movements grow slower as he starts to lose conciousness, making the crowd cheer. His breathing goes slower as Azazel enforces the hold, rocking his head. The black and white clad official raises Azrael’s arm and drops it, checking if he has to stop this contest. The arm drops, making the crowd cheer even louder as The Magician’s title shot chance grows. Referee Sanu checks again, yielding the same result; and making the crowd’s roars grow louder. The zebra striped official raises Azrael’s arm one more time. As Sanu drops the arm, making it fall, but Azrael somehow manages to keep his arm up halfway, much to the audience’s disappointment. Azrael then, with all his strength, gets back to one knee with the Magician still locking in the hold. Determined to break out of the match, the Bastard Son slowly gets back to one knee. With the Warlock still on him, Azrael snappily falls back and slams Jakob down to the mat, hurting his spine with an electric chair which makes the Durham native release the hold and arch his back in pain. Azrael gets back on his knees, panting from the loss of breath. He slowly gets back to a vertical base, visibly exhausted and angered. The Warlock gets back to his knees with a hand on his back in an attempt to nurse it. Azrael makes a B-line for his opponent and yanks him up to a vertical base by grabbing his hair, then knees him straight in the gut, doubling the Magician over. The Hellbent Judge follows it up, raising his arm high and dropping it down on the nape of the Demon hunter, dropping him down to all fours with a hammer fist. Azrael grabs his opponent by the hair again and drags him towards the exposed turnbuckle.

|Azrael| ”For your sins of fraud and trickery...”

Azrael reaches the turnbuckle, still holding on to the Shining Superstar. He pulls his head back and stares at him with contempt. Jakob attempts to fire elbows back, trying to save himself, but for his effort he sees himself colliding with the exposed steal. He quickly covers his face with his arms in an attempt to lessen the pain and block the incoming onslaught.

|Azrael| ”As I was saying, you are to be punished for your deception of the masses. This begins..now. ”

As the last word comes out of his mouth, Azrael brutally rams the Magic Man’s head onto the exposed steel over and over again, trying to knock him out, or draw blood. Each collision getting stronger after the other. Azazel drops to one knee, but then Azrael pulls him back up to a vertical base, not content. He continues bashing his head in, eventually drawing blood. Even with a crimson mask slowly enveloping the poor man’s face, the Hellbent Judge wouldn’t stop. The crowd begins to boo their hearts out at the brutally layed out in front of them. Ryu Sanu steps in, ordering Azrael to let go of Jakob, which he does. The Durham Native drops to his knees, then falls to the mat, his belly resting on the ropes and out cold. After catchin his breath from exhaustion, Azrael grabs both of his opponent’s feet and drags him towards the center of the ring the path being marked with Azazel’s blood. With a satisfied look on his face, The Bastard Son of Babylon rolls his opponent flat on his back and drops down, hooking his leg for the pin.

|Referee| ”One! Two! Three!”

DING DING DING

Azrael drops down and slides out of the ring, not even waiting for the announcer to declare him as the winner, he heads up the ramp without any hint of guilt at what had just transpired.

|Watts| ”Here is your winner, Azrael!”

|Cedar| ”What a brutal and vile attack! To think that the other two who win the qualifiers tonight are facing Azrael in a no dq match.. This will not be pretty.”

|Miles| ”Whatever, jackass. I need to take a piss. Ciao!”

XWA then cuts to commercial break

» M3 | Dante Cross vs. James Carlisle Cruiser-X Championship Qualifier
» M6 | Akira Kobayashi vs. Mark Storey Cruiser-X Championship Qualifier
» [LC] Jakob Azazel
» M4 | Jakob Azazel vs. Akira Kobayashi
» M3) Razor Xtreme vs. Jakob Azazel

M1 | Azrael vs. Jakob Azazel Cruiser-X Championship Qualifier

M1 | Azrael vs. Jakob Azazel Cruiser-X Championship Qualifier

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