[Commentator 1: Welcome everyone, to the premier event of the month! This is JW StandOut, and the atmosphere here in the Saitama Super Arena is nothing short of electric!]
[Commentator 2: How do you do. We are blessed with the presence of a wrestling legend. King, glad to have you with us.]
[King: Thank you. Glad to be hear.]
Tonight, 40,000 screaming fans filled the enormous stadium to capacity. This was not just any one-off gig. It was the hottest event of the summer.
This was StandOut.
[Commentator 2: We have reached our main event, folks. The match that has the entire Japan professional wrestling world holding its breath. The stakes for one has never been higher, and the animosity for the other has never been more toxic.]
The end of the evening’s pageantry was winding down inside the squared circle. Renji Okada was standing in the center, surrounded by golden sparks falling from the ceiling.
He was the JW World Heavyweight Champion, universally recognized by all. Okada was plain, athletic perfection. Standing tall at six-foot, with a majestic air about him, he commanded absolute respect. He was wearing a splendid long entrance robe, made of crimson silk with a lot of heavy gold thread in the lapels, which featured complicated dragon designs. He wore the big, gold and leather JW Championship belt around his waist. The ultimate prize.
[Commentator 1: What can you tell us about Okada, King.]
[King: Oh boy! A fierce competitor, that one. Tough as nails.]
Slowly, Okada raised the championship above his head with an unconcerned face, as if it nothing more than a piece of paper. The audience was in a roar of applause, all at once. The sparks continued to rain down, blanketing the canvas in a gorgeous display of conventional wrestling appreciation. He gave the belt to the official and effortlessly removed his robe to expose simple, unembellished black trunks and pure white kickpads. He didn’t need to wear flashy ring gear, his violent, perfect technique did the talking for him.
After that, the whole arena was plunged into darkness.
Okada’s theme music, the triumphant, orchestral horns, were suddenly cut short. Instead, the arena’s floorboards began to shake with a slow bassline. It wasn’t a pop song, it was first the rhythm of a heartbeat, then something that sounded like a rusted machine that was tearing itself apart.
[Commentator 1: And here comes the challenger. He has shed his family name, severing ties with his own blood. Now, he goes by... Billy Bones.]
One intense red spotlight lit up, shining on the upper portion of the steel entrance ramp.
Billy came out from behind the velvety curtain. He was wearing the same attire as he had when he was systematically working his way down his younger brother two months ago. The crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the sharply tailored black vest, and the black trousers. His hands and forearms were wrapped with a lot of athletic tape as usual.
The mask that menaced his face was the same incomplete mask that had now become a standout from his weeks of getting on Okada’s last nerves. His dark eyes offered zero humanity to the thousands of fans glaring down at him.
[Commentator 2: It is frankly sickening how easily this man manipulated his way into the main event. He didn’t earn this title shot through the usual process.]
[Commentator 1: You’re exactly right. All it took was a series of despicable acts of cowardice. Right after he nearly ended Ray Jr’s career, Billy Bones attacked Okada with a steel chair, in the very next show.]
[King: It forced the CEO’s hand. Shin saw opportunity, he saw the global outrage, and he rewarded that disgusting assault with a main event. But I don’t blame him, I would’ve done the same.]
Billy strolled down the long ramp with a slow, arrogant stride, ignoring the barrage of boos falling on him. He did not shake any hands from the few who didn’t care. He didn’t pay attention to the cameras. His eyes never blinked, and never left the champion who waited in the ring.
He slid under the bottom rope, stood up, and backed up to the turnbuckle. He placed his taped forearms on the top rope, and looked at Okada like a predator studying its prey.
The referee, a seasoned official and strict enforcer, intervened between the two men. He lifted the World Heavyweight Championship at the center of the ring to represent the stakes and then waved to the timekeeper.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Okada did not wait to circle the mat or lock up in a traditional collar-and-elbow tie-up. The champion burst out of his corner at a blistering pace. He quickly executed a running European uppercut with enough power to blow Billy’s jaw out, launching him into the air.
The sound of the impact reverberated through the large arena. Billy’s head snapped back as he was violently whipped backwards into the turnbuckle pads. While the challenger was still feeling the pain, Okada unleashed a barrage of knife-edge chops to Billy’s shirt and vest protected chest.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
On second thought, there was no real protection from the fabric of Billy’s white dress shirt. Each smack was accompanied by the roar of "ooohh!" from the crowd. Seizing Billy by the wrist, Okada threw him across the ring, smashing him into the opposite corner, before following closely behind, splashing the challenger with his full body weight.
Billy was gasping for breath as he staggered forward, and Okada expertly wrapped his arms around his waist and threw him back with a stunning bridging German suplex.
1!
2!
Billy had thrown his shoulder up and off the mat for a kickout and scrambled towards the bottom rope like a feral animal.
[Commentator 1: Okada is not looking to put on a technical clinic tonight! The champion is looking for retribution for series of attacks, week in and week out.]
Billy came out to the ring apron, gripping the ropes and gasping for breath. His shirt was already sweat-stained. He was about to be dragged back in by Okada, but Billy’s indie-circuit style kicked in.
While Okada reached over the top rope, Billy lunged up and savagely gouged the champion’s eyes.
The referee made a quick warning and stepped in to force a break, but the damage was done. Okada stumbled back, covering his face with his hands, temporarily blinded. Billy was instantly back into the ring following under the second rope and flew at the compromised champion. He tackled Okada at the knees, slamming him to the ground.
The match turned into a street fight in no time at all. Billy mounted Okada, punching the downed man with his closed-fist and his heavily taped right hand. The referee’s frantic counting and threats of disqualification didn’t matter to him. He slammed his forearm into the bridge of Okada’s nose and even began choking the champion.
Billy grabbed Okada by the hair and dragged him towards the center of the ring. He wrapped his arms around the champion’s neck in a front facelock and pressed all of his body weight against him, attempting to exhaust him as much as he could.
[Commentator 2: This is the gritty, agonizing reality of Billy Bones. He spent six years surviving in fight clubs. He knows exactly how to make a match ugly, how to slow down a superior athlete.]
The minutes went on and on and on. Billy would subtly pull the champion’s hair or sneak a knee into his ribs (which had been previously injured) every time Okada attempted to base up and use his superior strength to break the hold. The crowd cheered and stomped their feet together to give strength to the champion.
Okada finally hit his stride when he got the energy he needed from the Saitama fans. He wrapped his arms around Billy’s thigh and lifted the challenger straight up into the air, dropping his face down with a big back body drop.
Billy crashed against the canvas. Both men were on their bellies, panting and sweaty.
The referee started the required 10-count.
By the 6th, Okada was up. The champion’s eyes blazed with deadly intensity. Billy staggered up using the ropes, his equilibrium taking a massive blow due to Okada’s last manuever.
Okada charged.
He struck Billy on the side of the face with a mighty jab and then followed it up with a spinning back fist that left the opponent totally dislodged.
Billy swayed from side to side on his feet.
Okada lifted up his right arm in the air, getting riled up from the roar of 40,000 fans. He was preparing for the Clothesline From Hell, a devastating lariat that took an opponent’s head off his shoulders.
Okada turned Billy around, grabbed Billy by the wrist, and spun the challenger around to deliver the crushing blow.
However, Billy fell to his knees within just a split second of the lariat hitting him. Okada’s arm flung harmlessly over Billy’s head. The momentum of the missed strike caused the champion to stumble forward.
Before Okada could reset his footing, Billy lunged forward after ducking the attack, driving his shoulder into the legs of the referee.
The Ref’s legs were swept out from under him. He rolled helplessly through the ropes and landed on the floor outside the ring with a thump.
[Commentator 1: The referee is down! The official just took a terrible spill to the outside!]
[Commentator 2: We all know that wasn’t an accident.]
[King: Damn right!]
Okada went to look at the downed referee, he staggered over to the ropes to see how the official was doing. This was the good and decent thing to do. It was the kind of thing a champion would do.
And Billy knew he would.
With Okada’s back turned, Billy reached a taped hand down into his black trousers, slipping it into a tiny, custom-sewn pocket hidden inside the hem.
He brought out a thick, heavy metal object.
It was a pair of solid steel brass knuckles.
These were not shiny or polished, but rather severely worn out from years of illegal use on the independent stage. Billy easily slid the thick metal over the taped knuckles of his right hand, hiding the weapon on the palm side of his left hand.
Okada knew that the referee was not going to get up anytime soon. The champion rubbed his chin and looked at the other man, deciding to finish the match while the ref gets up or a new referee runs down the ramp. He ran toward the center of the ring, and pulled his arm back to finally land the clothesline.
Billy pivoted as Okada got into striking distance. He ducked under the champion’s arm, planted his feet, and swung his loaded right fist with every bit of strength he possessed.
SMACK.
Renji Okada’s eyes instantly rolled back into his head. The JW World Heavyweight Champion fell down and hit the canvas, knocked out.