Inside the ring, Billy was staring at the commentary desk. He couldn’t process it.
The arrogance.
Ray Jr. sat still, his hands folded neatly on the table, staring right back.
The audacity of Ray Jr. sitting there with a broadcast headset, casually adjusting the microphone, had effectively cut off Billy’s focus.
At his feet, Tyler Briggs was a crumpled, motionless heap. The rookie cruiserweight had taken the full, devastating brunt of a Mexican Destroyer.
The human body inside a wrestling ring is a miraculous, unpredictable machine. While Billy’s attention was consumed by his brother sitting feets away, a tiny sliver of awareness returned to the young athlete.
Operating on nothing, Briggs blindly reached out. His glove snagged the dark fabric of Billy’s black trousers.
Briggs yanked his body weight forward. He swept his arm into the back of Billy’s repaired knee. The joint buckled instantly. Billy began collapsing backward, his balance destroyed by the sudden shift in gravity.
With a desperate gasp, Briggs scrambled over. He hooked the older wrestler’s leg from behind. It was a small package roll-up.
The referee dropped to the canvas.
1!
Billy’s eyes widened. The paralyzing distraction had now evaporated, replaced instantly by a jolt of panic. He thrashed violently, trying to force his shoulder off the mat, but Briggs had his center of gravity perfectly trapped.
2!
The Osaka crowd leaped to their feet, the roar swelling to a deafening pitch in anticipation of the upset of the month. Billy shoved his taped hands frantically against the rookie’s ribs, but his leverage was almost entirely gone. The utter humiliation of losing to a half-conscious rookie, while his adopted brother casually watched from the desk was a nightmare he absolutely refused to entertain.
With a furious roar, Billy kicked his legs out. He transferred every ounce of his remaining strength into his shoulders and violently thrust upward. The hold broke. Billy kicked out just milliseconds before the referee’s palm struck the canvas for the third count.
The collective groan of the Grand Auditorium echoed through the building, a heavy mixture of disappointment and awe.
At the broadcast table, Ray Jr. adjusted the microphone slightly, his stoic mask facing the ring.
[Braxton: My god! Tyler Briggs almost stole it! We almost witnessed a big upset! But wait... Ray Jr., we certainly didn’t expect you out here tonight.]
[Ray Jr: I had a free evening, Braxton. I promised I wouldn’t do anything stupid with my neck, so I figured I’d get a closer look at the competition from a safe distance.]
[Tanaka: It’s an honor to have you, Ray, but your brother looks unhinged right now. That roll-up nearly cost him.]
[Ray Jr: Look at him in there. A true professional doesn’t let a distraction cost him like that.]
Inside the ring, Billy scrambled to his feet. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscles visibly trembled. He stared daggers at the broadcast table, his chest heaving as he fought through the surprise.
"Shut your mouth!" Billy screamed across the ringside area, pointing a finger at the commentary desk.
Ray Jr. didn’t raise his voice. He spoke calmly into the headset, his words echoing clearly through the broadcast, only audible to his broadcast partners.
[Ray Jr: Notice his footing, Braxton. He’s putting all his weight on his left leg. The right knee is compromised.]
Billy’s fury boiled over. He turned his rage onto the rookie. Briggs was slowly crawling toward the bottom rope. Billy came up to him and stomped mercilessly onto the back of Briggs’ neck, driving the younger man’s face violently back into the canvas.
He grabbed Briggs by the hair, dragging him up. He threw out a devastating European uppercut, the sound of flesh against bone echoing through the arena. Briggs staggered backward into the corner. Billy followed immediately, burying his shoulder deep into the rookie’s midsection repeatedly, driving the air from his lungs.
[Tanaka: Billy Bones is lashing out right now! The aggression is off the charts!]
[Ray Jr: He’s just trying to inflict maximum pain because I’m here.]
Billy whipped Briggs across the ring with terrifying velocity, sending the cruiserweight crashing into the opposite turnbuckles. Briggs hit the pads so hard his legs buckled beneath him, dropping him to a seated position. Billy took a running start, charging forward to deliver a crushing running knee strike directly to the rookie’s face.
Briggs’ threw himself sideways at the very last possible second.
Billy’s knee slammed violently into the second turnbuckle pad. The older wrestler cried out in agony, hopping backward on his good leg, clutching his damaged right joint.
The crowd roared in approval.
Briggs pushed himself up, adrenaline surging through his veins. He dashed toward the ropes, springboarding off the middle to deliver a beautiful moonsault that connected perfectly.
Both men crashed to the mat. Briggs desperately scrambled to hook the leg.
1!
2!
Billy powered out, throwing Briggs off him with raw force.
[Tanaka: What incredible resilience by Tyler Briggs! The rookie absolutely refuses to stay down!]
[Ray Jr: He’s got tremendous heart. But heart alone might not be enough. Briggs needs to pick up the pace and target the joint. Billy is exceptionally dangerous when he’s cornered.]
Billy rolled to his feet, his eyes wild, burning adrenaline. Briggs charged forward, attempting a high-speed hurricanrana, but Billy reversed the manuever. The older wrestler stopped the rookie’s forward momentum, transitioning the hurricanrana seamlessly into a brutal powerbomb.
The mat shook. Briggs bounced upon impact, clutching his lower back.
Billy wasn’t finished. He grabbed the rookie by the wrist, hauling him back up to his feet. He wrenched the arm, pulling Briggs into a lariat that nearly took the young man’s head clean off his shoulders.
[Braxton: Good lord! A decapitating lariat!]
[Ray Jr: He’s rushing now, he knows he’s running on fumes. He has to finish this match right now.]
Billy stood over the broken rookie. The crowd was booing heavily, their collective disdain raining down. Billy raised his heavily taped right fist, the exact same fist that had knocked out Renji Okada with brass knuckles just weeks prior. He glared out of the ring, his uncovered eye fixed directly on Ray Jr. at the commentary desk.
"Coming for you next!" Billy roared, his gravelly rasp completely shredding his throat.
Billy snatched Briggs by the throat with both hands, lifting the cruiserweight up into the air. He held the rookie suspended for what felt longer than seconds. A display of pure strength, before dropping him down into a vicious, bone-rattling sit-out chokeslam.
Briggs’ was laid out, his eyes rolling back into his head. Billy transitioned instantly, maintaining his vice-like grip and dragging the unconscious rookie back up to a standing position. He hooked Briggs’ arms, putting him into double underhook posture--where a wrestler places their arms underneath the opponent’s armpit and locks them over the upper back.
[Tanaka: He’s not done! What more does he possibly need to prove?]
[Ray Jr: It’s not about proving anything to the crowd, Tanaka. It’s about sending a message to me.]
Billy hoisted Briggs high into the air and drove him skull-first into the mat with a devastating Tiger Driver.
Billy threw his exhausted body over the layed out rookie, hooking both legs deep to ensure there would be no miraculous kick-out this time.
The referee slid into position, his hand slapping the canvas in rapid succession.
1!
2!
3!
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Billy’s theme music filled the Auditorium.
The crowd’s reaction was heavily mixed, wondering if they actually enjoyed the brutality of the final sequences.
Billy pushed himself up from the canvas, his chest heaving violently, sweat dripping. The referee moved in, tentatively raising Billy’s arm in victory, but Billy yanked it away immediately.
He didn’t have the peace of mind to celebrate his first official win in Japan Wrestling. He didn’t look at the fallen rookie being urgently checked on by medical personnel.
He turned his body toward the broadcast table yet again.
[Braxton: An absolute statement made by Billy Bones tonight. But you have to wonder what the long-term physical toll of this match was.]
[Ray Jr: ---]
Jey calmly reached up and pulled the broadcast headset off his ears, setting it gently on the table.
He stood up.
The crowd immediately noticed the movement. The reaction aimed at Billy began to change into the buzzing hum of anticipation.
Jey walked with the exact same deliberate, unbothered pace he had used on his way down the ramp. He approached the ring apron, his white sneakers stepping up onto the steel stairs.
Inside the ropes, Billy stood his ground. He wiped a streak of sweat from his forehead, his jaw clenching, waiting for the physical confrontation. He was exhausted, battered, but he was fully prepared to throw down with the man who had stolen his legacy.
Jey grabbed the middle rope and smoothly slid into the ring.
The two brothers stood face to face in the center of the canvas. The tension in the building was palpable. Billy raised his taped fists, a dark, mocking sneer forming on his lips.
"Come on," Billy hissed, his voice raspy and breathless. "Throw a punch. Let’s give them a show!"
Jey stood still, his hands resting casually inside the front pocket of his hoodie. His mask revealed absolutely nothing. He simply stared at his older brother, refusing to engage in the wild, chaotic brawl Billy so desperately wanted.
The referee stepped cautiously between them, waving his arms, loudly warning Jey that the match was over.
Billy let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He lowered his fists, shaking his head in absolute disgust.
"That’s exactly what I thought," Billy spat, venom dripping from his words. "You’re nothing but a coward."
Billy turned his back on his brother in the ultimate display of disrespect, taking a heavy, limping step toward the ropes to exit the ring.
It was a fatal, arrogant mistake.
The instant Billy’s back was turned, Jey’s casual, unbothered demeanor vanished. He exploded into motion.
Jey took two rapid steps forward, lunging dynamically into the air.
SMACK.
The impact was sickeningly loud, a horrific crack of bone on bone.
The Ray Gun.
Jey’s elbow collided flush with the base of Billy’s skull, striking precisely where the spine met the head.
The sheer force of the targeted, high-speed strike whipped Billy’s head forward. He was essentially shut down upon impact. The older brother collapsed forward, hitting the canvas face-first like a felled tree, completely motionless.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, a massive tidal wave of elation.
Jey didn’t follow up with a ground assault, he only stood over his unconscious brother, his masked face looking down at the wreckage.
...he had promised Bambietta that he would be careful with his neck, and he had promised himself that he would send a definitive message...
He had just done both.