Jakob removes his mask to reveal his face, the purple streak of hair hangs down slightly disrupting the view of the eye of Horus that adorns the Englishman’s face. He sets his mask down in the corner of the ring, along with his Warlock’s Staff (a three foot solid wood staff), directly opposite a small section of fans all wearing the now-infamous 'Venom' mask. The Azazelites all begin to chant “Do some magic!” in a rhythmic fashion before the first toll of the ring bell even rings out. The Warlock smiles. The stone-faced Japanese warrior looks on until the three chimes that signal the beginning of the bout spur him into motion as both competitors lock horns in an elbow and collar tie up.

“And we begin this match with a good ol’ elbow and collar tie up. There’s not much between these two men, with Akira Kobayashi standing in at six foot three inches and weighing two hun’ed and thirty five pounds he only just bigger than the six two, two hun’ed and thirty pound Jakob Azazel.”
“NO ONE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT YOUR STATS TED! THIS ISN’T FUCKING BASEBALL!”

The Shining Superstar manages to gain the upper hand on his opponent and slips behind, applying a rear waist lock upon the oriental competitor. Akira locks his hands around the wrists of his aggressor and uses all of his might to force the hands apart. Either Kobayashi is a lot stronger than most think or Jakob doesn’t offer much resistance and his hands are separated with relative ease. The Pacific Rim Nightmare ducks underneath the arm of The Warlock and pulls it half way up his back, applying a standing hammerlock. Jakob holds the shoulder under pressure with his free hand before he reaches back over his shoulder and clasps his hand on the back of Akira’s head. Azazel drops forward bring Kobayashi over head in a snapmare before he locks both hands under the chin of his opponent and places his knee into their spine. The basic chin hold proves to be ineffective, as Akira shifts his weight turning off the pivot point and only leverage Jakob has in the hold and onto his own knees. The Wizard keeps his fingers locked behind The Spartan’s head in some vein hope that he might magically return to the basic submission hold as said competitor begins to make it to his feet. Quickly Akira grabs a hold of the back of his opponent’s head and places their chin on the top of his own head all the while dropping down to his knees upon reaching a standing base, rocking Jakob Azazel with a jawbreaker, thus ending the chain wrestling segment, Akira coming out on top. Demon Hunter holds his mouth, perhaps he bit his tongue? How tragic, how brutal?! He’d make that bastard pay if he had caused him to bite his tongue. Why, he’s a silver-tongued devil! How was he supposed to use his silver tongue if he’d just cleaved it from the flesh cave that is his own mouth? Azazel has no time to ponder these important questions as his semi-protected jaw ends up on the receiving end of a strike courtesy of The Last Warlord of Osaka’s palm. Before Sir Realist even has time to bring a hand up to nurse that part of his face that is now hurting the opposite side meets a similar fate, again turning the head of the smaller wrestler. Akira follows these two open-palm blows with two hard kicks to the left thigh of his opponent, causing him to hop backward. This is chased by The Spartan spinning on his heel and thrusting his foot back, planting to sole of which in the gut of Azazel, doubling him over and causing the Englishman to wretch. The Spartan dashes into the ropes and comes steaming back towards the bent over opponent, ploughing his knee into the side of Lord Azazel’s skull, causing him to flip nigh-on the full one hundred and eighty degrees and land on his back, staring up at the lights in the arena.

“MY GOD WHAT A THUNDEROUS KNEE TREMBLER FROM AKIRA! I think Jakob might actually be out cold here.”
“That’s LORD Azazel to you Ted!”

The Black Heart Warrior doesn’t bother hooking a leg as he drops down on the laid out adversary, though he does shove his palm into the cheek of Azazel as he covers him. The zebra-clad official begins his count but only musters the first slap of the hand on canvas before the British born competitor forces his shoulder up.

“HA! Told you that wouldn’t fucking be it. One little knee to the head ain’t gonna end this match tonight.”
“I don’t know Joey, Jakob’s Shining Wizards have been known to end a match early.”
“It’s not his moves that finish opponents off. It’s his fucking voodoo curses or whatever magic shit he does. He should be banned from wrestling for that stuff.”

Kobayashi rolls off of the Englishman to a seated position and rests his forearms on his knees. He leans back and thrusts his feet up into the air, executing a Shawn Michaels-esque kip-up and landing in a standing position. Jakob has stirred on the mat and begins to make his own way to a vertical base when the laces of The Pacific Rim Nightmare’s boot tries to sever the vertebrae in his spine with a hard soccerball kick stiffening the entire body of the victim. Akira stalks his prey, slowly and methodically making his way down to Azazel’s legs where he delivers a callous stomp right on the ankle joint, grinding his boot down to inflict more pain to the vulnerable Englishman. Immediately The Magician sits up, reaching out to grab a hold of his ankle in order to protect or perhaps nurse it, but of course Akira does not lift his foot up denying Jakob the coveted access and respite. The Spartan continues his assault by bending down and sliding the leg out from underneath his sole, only to drop to the floor himself and wrap all four limbs around it like a severely amputated giant squid upon a pirate ship. The knot of limbs and flesh fights against itself until Akira is able to get the upperhand and wrench back on the leg, straightening it out and hyperextending Jakob’s knee. Azazel screams out in pain, desperately trying to drag himself to the ropes to gain some respite as Osaka-resident pops his hips, applying more pressure to the hold.

“Jakob really hasn’t been able to get out of the starting blocks in this match tonight.”
“Yeah, well… Akira has beaten him twice before. Once in a match also involving Dante Cross and once in one and one combat. He’s got his number, Jakob was never going to come out of this.”
“You’ve suddenly changed your tone…”

Eventually The Shining Superstar is able to drag himself and his aggressor over to the bottom rope and manage a rope break. This doesn’t immediately work as The Black Heart Warrior keeps the hold locked forcing the monochromatic mediator to begin the five count. Upon the count of four Kobayashi breaks the kneebar and begins reigning down forearm strike after forearm strike to the side of the targeted knee. He rolls over backwards, landing on one knee, the knuckles of his opposite hand planted firmly atop the sweat-stained canvas. He looks up through his brow at his opponent who is dragging themselves up to a standing base with the aid of the ring ropes. Like a lumberjack chopping down a giant redwood (that is actually smaller than them I suppose), Akira brings his stiff kicks to the pre-attacked knee of his opponent, a method extremely common in his home country of Japan. Each shot almost causing the joint to buckle in under the two hundred and thirty pound frame of the Warlock, but never quite managing. Nevertheless, with each blow the ligaments in the leg take, his limp becomes more severe. Akira relents in this assault, only to place his own head under the arm of his opponent and hoist him up in the air, his arms locked around Jakob’s midriff. The Last Warlord of Osaka falls back, planting the top of The Magician’s head into the mat.

“BACKDROOP DRIVUUUUURE!!!!”
“Why did you just yell that in an overly racist Japanese accent?”
“Ever heard those guys on commentary? This is how you get the viewers at home pumped up.”

Joey is correct, Akira Kobayashi did just nail one of his signature moves; the Backdrop Driver. Dr. Death would be proud. As it is, the wrestler that has been on the defensive this entire match now lies face down, limp and lifeless on the ring mat with the Japanese superstar sitting next to him. Akira underhooks an arm and begins to roll the unresponsive Lord Azazel over onto his back, and press his bodyweight down on him. Once again Jack Hammer gets into position and begins what could be the final countdown.

ONE!

TWO!

NO! The Heir of Empty Breath manages to roll his shoulder up off of the canvas though with a lot less ‘umpff’ than earlier on in the match. Akira doesn’t respond too well with this act of defiance; how dare he kick out and not let me hit the shower early!? And begins to pummel the poor lad with heavy forearms until his anger subsides momentarily. Instead, he takes two handfuls of The Bastard Son’s flowing onyx locks and begins to pull him up to his feet, almost tearing the roots from the scalp in the process. Just as it Jakob makes it to his feet, he stops Akira’s plans dead in their tracks with a well places thumb, straight into the eye causing the Japanese competitor to turn away, bringing his hands up over the intruded organ. Jack Hammer sees this and gets in the face of the Englishman, warning him about keeping the fight fair. Keeping the fight fair? The British took over the majority of the known world under the premise that “Gun beats pointy stick and mangoes”. Fighting fair isn’t their forte. So the Brit just brushes past Mr. Hammer and goes back on the offensive; after all he hasn’t had much chance to do so thus far in the match up. He starts by delivering a forearm blow himself, targeting the back of the semi-blinded warrior, causing him to stumble forward into the ring ropes. He then takes it upon himself to acquaint the back of Akira’s head with the canvas, taking it in hand and turning his own body around before allowing it to collapse, pulling his victim down with him in a neckbreaker. Kobayashi enters something similar to the feeble position, clutching the back of his head where it bounced off of the mat. As his opponent begins to recover the Master of Majik decides it would be best for him if he stops this, and stops it he does! The Demon Hunter dives on Akira’s head as if it’s a grenade about to kill off half his squadron, locking in a grounded side headlock. Jakob doesn’t expect to win this way, no one submits to the almighty headlock, but it will buy him some time while he plans his next move. The majority of the crowd begin to stamp their feet and clap their hands to try and spur Akira on and it does seem to motivate him to move. He starts to bang his left foot down onto the mat in rhythmic time of the fan’s claps and stamps. The beat quickens as he begins to compress his body, army crawling into a hunched state. He rises as the crowd fill him with energy, wrapping his arms around the abdomen of his opponent once again, but this time Jakob drops to a knee and shifts his hips, pulling Akira up and over so he lands back first on the mat with a Headlock Takedown. He’s already been on the receiving end of a Backdrop Driver tonight, he doesn’t plan on suffering another one. He ends the hold prematurely, delivering a quick hammer fist onto the top of Kobayashi’s head and swiftly pushing himself up to his feet. He favours his left leg, the knee obviously still in some discomfort. He doesn’t have time to be lazy though, as The Spartan is making his own way to his feet, and it isn’t taking long. Jakob charges into the far ropes, hoping to build velocity and deliver a heavy blow to the defences of the Asian competitor. Bounding back on the return, Lord Azazel goes airborne springing up into the air, twisting his body so the heel of his boot collides with the back of the now-standing Oriental with a flawlessly executed heel kick, knocking the victim forward landing on the top rope under both armpits. Lord Azazel capitalises on this position and hastily grabs a leg of the opponent. He grabs the other and carries both under each arm, hoisting Akira up into a rope hung wheelbarrow hold. The Magician smiles. He looks around the arena, the majority of fans here booing the Most Evil Man in XWA. He stays true to this nickname and lifts his boot, delivering a kick in a suspiciously low area enticing a chorus of boos from the crowd and for Jack Hammer to question him about the legality of the blow. Jakob objects claiming it was to the midsection and thus legal as Akira doubles over, obviously holding his family jewels. The Warlock doesn’t give the referee a chance to call for the disqualification as he bounces off of the ring ropes and leapfrogs over the bend down Akira, his own crotch landing on the back of the Japanese superstar’s neck and causing him to faceplant the canvas. Jakob sits atop the head of his adversary rather proud of himself.

“THAT WAS A GOD DAMNED LOW BLOW AND EVERYONE HERE KNOWS IT! How can the ref let him get away with this?!”
“Calm down Ted. It’s just a kick to the gut. Akira probably thought he could steal a win here and fain a kick to the nuts. Typical Asian, no sense of honour…”
“I’m not even going to begin arguing with you on what’s wrong with that sentence.”

The Shining Superstar clamps his knees together, holding Akira’s head between them and leans forward, putting all of his body weight onto his hands. He begins to thrust into the back of Akira’s noggin, every thrust banging the face off of the canvas, thus marking the XWA debut of Azazel’s “Jakob’s Ladder”. Once Jakob decides that the Oriental Warrior’s head is well enough battered he un-tenses his legs and lets the body drop. Akira rolls over on his own accord onto his back, taking a hand up to his forehead as if trying to ease a headache. Azazel assesses the situation and concludes on his next course of action; the top rope. Mantling up and standing on the top turnbuckle, the Demon Hunter flicks his head back with the bangs that typically hang down his face flowing up and over out of his face as to not hinder his vision. He stands tall above the ring and raises both of his hands up next to his face, spreading his fingers wide apart, as if telling a barman in a loud club that he wants ten shots. He swings his arms to create uplift and momentum as he jumps from the top, extending his legs out in front of him, the back of his legs inevitably coming crashing down across the chest of his opponent, Akira’s legs kicking up in the air as he does so. Unfortunately for Jakob, the top rope leg drop ended with him tweaking his already damaged knee resulting in him writhing around the ring in pain. Unsure what else to do, the official chosen for this match begins to count.

“Well, that move might have done more harm than good for Jakob. He shoulda known his knee wasn’t working with him as it’s been the target of most of Akira’s attacks tonight.”
“Shuddup Ted. Let the man do what he wants, even if he is a fucking idiot.”

At the count of five, it is Akira who is first to his feet. Both men are using the ropes to help them up, but with Jakob favouring his leg, he finds it difficult to return to a vertical position. Kobayashi marches toward his target, fully intent on completely taking Azazel’s knee out from under him but the Bastard Son of Babylon is quick to react, dropping down and tripping Akira with a drop-toe hold. Unfortunately, Akira’s arm manages to collide with Jack Hammer, knocking the ref down in an ill-thought out ref-bump spot. The Spartan gets up to a knee which is immediately used as a platform for Jakob to stand upon as he swings his right knee round into the side of Akira’s head, targeting his temple.

“SHINING WIZARD!”
“Yeah, the move originated in Japan, I thought those people had built an immunity to it…”

Both men collapse to the mat, Akira from the hard blow to the temple and Jakob from exhaustion. Lord Azazel crawls to the corner of the ring, utilising the vertices of the squared circle to support this ascent to his feet. He looks over his shoulder and smirks. He turns, limping toward his opponent. Raising his left hand he highlights the Eye of Horus drawn on his face, placing an open hand just underneath it before flinging both hands out to the side, opening and closing the palms signalling for Deathspell Omega. The Pacific Rim Nightmare makes it to his feet, none the wiser of what dark intentions Lord Azazel has for him. He stands up straight and Jakob takes a chunk full of his hair in hand, pulling him back so he leans back and slips his arm over the face of the Cruiser-X champion. Using his free arm he grabs a hold of his opponent’s trunks and prays to every deity he can think of that his knee holds up. He squats, ready to explode upwards in a paroxysm of energy and deal the final blow of the match. He lifts Akira up and begins the spin, but Kobayashi has other plans, swinging his own leg up with the added momentum of Jakob’s own lift – his knee being planted firmly on the top of the Most Evil Man in XWA’s head, knocking him down, all the brunt of the move being taken away, though Akira does take some impact. Gaining a second wind, the Pacific Rim Nightmare springs up to his feet via the second kip-up of the match, tensing his body and clenching his fists by his side the Japanese gladiator lets out a fierce war cry and then points to his fallen foe, the crowd popping with excitement as they expect the end of the Most Evil Man in XWA. Akira squats down and throws the limp limb that is Jakob’s arm up over his head and rests it on the back of his neck. He grabs the top of Azazel’s acid wash tights and stands himself up, lifting the opponent up with him. He gets himself in under the six foot two frame of the Englishman and lifts the lifeless mass up in the air, the Durham-bred superstar’s body suspended upside down above The Spartan. Throwing his legs out in front of him, and dropping the elbow of the supporting arm the Last Warlord of Osaka brings his opponent plummeting down crashing head first into the canvas of the ring with a hellacious thud as he nails the Brainbuster, all but confirming the bitter end. Akira rolls through and presses all of his mass down on the chest of the fallen Jakob Azazel, even going so far to hook a leg. The fans begin to count “ONE! TWO! THREE!” by all rights the match should be over with Akira leaving victorious but he forgot that the elected official – Jack Hammer – is still out on the canvas. Kobashi breaks the pin attempt and walks towards the downed ref, slapping the back of his head in an attempt to bring him round to consciousness and declare him the victor. As this occurs, one of the Azazelites spotted at the beginning of the match, a whopping six foot six inches of a man wearing the mask, a plain white tee shirt and old jeans hops the barricade and runs to the ring, grabbing Jakob’s Magical Staff en route. He wields it as a Scottish Warrior would wield a claymore and waits for Kobayashi to return to his feet and turn around. Slowly he does, stumbling back towards his impending doom before turning around to face it. The masked fan steps forward, bringing the wooden staff down hard across the face and head of Akira, knocking him out cold. The man throws the staff to the side and begins to peel off his mask, first revealing a mighty impressive beard.

“MY GAWD IT’S CHRIS DOLMETH!!! The last time we saw him was in that match with Niko L. Denero at the beginning of last year! He’s been out since then with a nagging shoulder injury…”
“Holy fuck, I guess Lord Azazel decided to hire out his mercenary contract and try Chris Dolmeth.”

The returning Dolmeth takes the pseudo-corpse of the brainbusted Warlock and drags it over the unconscious body of the Crusier-X champ to a chorus of boos. The fans know damn well that Akira has been robbed of the match and so have they. He is quick to exit the ring as Jack Hammer begins to awaken from his seemingly eternal slumber, slipping into the backstage area just as the ref crawls into positon and begins the count.

ONE!
TWO!
THREE!

"JAKOB STOLE IT! JAKOB STOLE THE DAMNED MATCH! Him and that punk kid Chris Dolmeth."
"Man, ain't you mama never told you; you don't play around with 'Meth?"

The bell rings signalling the end of the match, both wrestlers laid out barely responsive as XWA’s Vendetta #100 fades out to a commercial break.