He screamed, an ugly sound that had nothing nice in it, as both hands flew down to grab at the joint.
[Braxton: OH! Look at Billy’s knee. That is not right.]
[Tanaka: Ray Jr just crashed straight into that counter. Both men are down and something is seriously wrong with that leg.]
Ray rolled off to the side, clutching his ribs, gasping through the mask.
Billy was curled onto his side a few feet away, both hands wrapped around his knee, his whole body shaking with the pain of it, the leg bent at an angle that made the front row wince and turn away.
Neither brother moved. Neither one could.
The referee crawled between them, unsure which man to check first. He looked at Billy’s knee, then at Ray gripping his ribs, and settled on kneeling beside Billy, waving frantically toward the entrance ramp for the ringside doctor.
[Braxton: We need medical out here right now!]
[Tanaka: I don’t like the way that leg is sitting. That’s the same knee he’s done work on God knows how many times.]
[Braxton: Let’s hope it’s not that serious.]
Billy’s taped fingers dug into his own thigh, trying to hold the joint together. His breath came out in short, hard bursts through his mask. Blood still dripped steady from the cut over his eyebrow, mixing with the sweat on the canvas beneath his cheek.
A young man in a JW medical polo hurried down the ramp, followed closely by an older doctor carrying a black bag. They slid under the bottom rope together and dropped to their knees on either side of Billy.
The doctor pressed two fingers gently against the side of the knee. Billy’s whole body jerked, and another scream tore out of him, this one sharper.
"Don’t fucking touch me," Billy snarled through his teeth, swatting weakly at the doctor’s hand. "Don’t you dare touch me."
"I need to see if it’s dislocated," the doctor said, his voice clinical, used to this exact reaction from wrestlers who’d rather finish a match with a broken bone than admit it.
Across the ring, Ray had pushed himself up onto one knee, one arm still pressed hard against his ribs. He looked over at the scene unfolding a few feet from him. The crowd noise had dropped from a roar into something quieter, a low murmur of concern that ran through the whole building.
[Braxton: The doctor is examining Billy Bones right now. Ray Jr appears to be favoring his ribcage after that reversed attenpt of a frog splash.]
[Tanaka: That knee took the entire weight of the five star frog splash. I don’t care how tough this man is, that’s not something you just walk off.]
The referee stood up, looking between the two competitors and the timekeeper’s table, unsure how to proceed. He held up both hands, signaling for a pause in the action, though the bell never actually rang.
Ray climbed to his feet now, slowly, using the bottom rope for support. His ribs burned with every breath, but he could stand. He looked down at his brother.
Billy’s face had gone pale under the blood and sweat. His uncovered eye squeezed shut against the pain. He tried to sit up on his own, bracing both hands against the mat, and the moment he shifted his weight the leg buckled sideways again. He collapsed back down with yet another groan.
The doctor said something low to the young medic, who nodded and reached into the bag for a roll of tape and a small inflatable brace.
Ray took a step closer.
He hadn’t planned to. His legs just carried him there, past the referee, past the kneeling doctor, until he was standing over his brother.
[Tanaka: After everything that’s happened between these two, I genuinely don’t know what to expect right now.]
Billy’s bare eye cracked open. He looked up at the masked figure standing over him, breathing hard, one arm still wrapped around his own ribs. For a second neither of them said anything, the two of them just staring, the doctor’s hands still working on the brace between them.
[Braxton: What is Ray Jr doing? Is he checking on him?]
"Get away from me," Billy muttered, his voice thin and cracked.
Ray didn’t listen. He crouched down instead, ignoring the doctor’s protest, and reached for his brother’s arm.
"Let me get you up," Ray said, low, meant only for Billy. "You need to get up, I can walk you out of the ring for proper treatment."
The crowd had gone almost silent now, thousands of people leaning forward trying to make out what was happening. A few scattered claps rang out, uncertain applause for a moment that looked, for once, like it might not end in violence.
The doctor stepped back slightly, giving Ray room, thinking maybe the two of them together could get Billy to his feet without further damage to the joint. The referee hovered close by, ready to call for a stretcher if things went wrong.
Ray slid one arm under Billy’s shoulder, bracing his own aching ribs against the strain, and started to lift.
Billy let him. For a second, just a second, there was no resistance at all, no fight left in him, just dead weight leaning into his younger brother’s shoulder as Ray hauled him partway off the canvas.
[Braxton: Look at this. Ray Jr helping his brother to his feet. After everything.]
[Tanaka: Maybe this is finally it, Braxton. Maybe blood wins out over all of this.]
Ray had him almost upright, Billy’s bad leg dangling uselessly beneath him, his arm slung heavy across Ray’s shoulders.
Then Billy’s free hand shot down between Ray’s legs and connected hard.
Ray’s whole body seized. The air left him in a strangled wheeze, and his knees buckled instantly, dropping him straight down onto the canvas, both hands flying to cover his crotch, his masked face pressed against the mat.
The crowd’s uncertain applause turned into a wall of noise, disbelief crashing through the arena in one enormous wave.
[Braxton: OH COME ON!]
[Tanaka: Low blow! Billy Bones just went low on his own brother while he was trying to help him up!]
Billy dropped back down to the mat the second Ray let go, no longer bothering to hide the fact that his leg could still hold at least some of his weight. He rolled onto his good side, a dark, satisfied aura washed over him, obvious to every fan watching.
The referee was already signaling. He crossed his arms hard over his head, then pointed straight at Billy.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
[Braxton: The referee has no choice. Disqualification.]
[Tanaka: Bones just threw away this awesome match with a cheap shot! He couldn’t beat his brother clean so he made sure nobody could say he lost fair.]
[Braxton: Sounds like a sore loser to me.]
The timekeeper’s bell rang out over and over, the sound swallowed almost completely by the boos raining down from every section of the Grand Auditorium.
Ray was still on his knees, his forehead nearly touching the canvas, both arms locked tight around himself. He hadn’t moved since the shot landed.
Billy dragged himself toward the ropes, favoring the good leg but moving with far more urgency than he had a minute ago, hauling himself under the bottom rope and out onto the floor before the other medics jogging down the ramp could even reach him.
He didn’t look back at his brother kneeling in the center of the ring and he certainly didn’t care about the booing crowd either. He just kept moving, one hand braced against the barricade, dragging that ruined knee behind him toward the entrance, leaving Ray alone under the lights.