The impact was blinding.
Ray Jr’s face bounced off the protective mat that covered the concrete floor. The shock went right up his neck and into his head. During the fall, his teeth had bitten into the inside of his cheek. He was immediately aware of the taste of copper in his mouth...blood.
The whole arena went into total confusion.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The timekeeper struck the metal bell over and over. The sharp and chaotic noises broke through the scene in the Grand Auditorium. The referee waved both hands in the air and crossed them in a back and forth manner over his head to signal an immediate disqualification due to outside interference. The match was now finished, but the chaos was just beginning.
[Commentator 1: What in the world just happened? The referee is calling for the bell!]
[Commentator 2: Someone just reached under the bottom rope and pulled Ray Jr out of the ring! Who in the blazes is that individual?]
[Commentator 1: I have no idea. Security is usually airtight around these barricades. Where did this man even come from?]
Ray Jr shook his head, his eyes filled with black spots. He stretched his fingers out blindly to the edge of the ring apron. He attempted to lift himself up, but his legs wouldn’t budge. The sudden pull almost twisted his knee, causing a dull ache to be felt.
He was able to get onto his back and twist his heavy head.
There was a figure above him, like from a nightmare. It was a man who wasn’t in the right place...anywhere near a wrestling ring.
It was Billy Ray.
He was not at all wearing the attire of a typical pro wrestler. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the sleeves aggressively rolled up past his elbows, revealing thick forearms. A black tie was neatly tied down the front of a well-fitted black vest, which was fully buttoned. It was the clothe of a corporate enforcer or a high-end drug dealer, introduced into the world of the squared circle.
His two forearms were completely covered with heavy athletic tape. The tape began at his knuckles and wound neatly and carefully to the crease of his elbow.
But it was the mask which had been responsible for a large percentage of the gasps in the arena...
It was an odd and messy piece of work. The bottom half was patterned in black and white, with intricate gold around the edges. The top half of the mask was incomplete, like it was deliberately done like that, only covering one eye with the other bare. The covered eye hole was dark. The back of the mask had dark hair falling over in a loose mop. His jaw was showing below the chin strap, clenched in a fierce manner.
Jey lifted his gaze, his chest rising and falling with each agonising breath. He choked out, "Billy?"
Billy didn’t utter a single word. He didn’t have to give any reasons. He just lifted his well-polished dress shoe and smacked it into Jey’s ribs.
The air left Jey in a violent, immediate rush. He fell back to the floor mat, balling up into himself.
[Commentator 1: We need security down there right now! This is a completely unprovoked assault!]
[Commentator 2: This man has bypassed the entire JW front office staff. Look at the calculated rage exuding from him. He knows exactly what he is doing.]
Nakamuro was able to slowly stand up in the ring. The Japanese veteran’s mouthguard was still in place as he looked down over the top rope. He saw the beating for a short time. He had been disqualified from the match and he’d earned his wages, his body had earned enough for one night. Nakamuro just rolled his eyes, turned his back on the ensuing chaos, and got out of the ring on the other side. Without looking back, he ascended the steel entrance ramp.
The referee started to bend over the ropes in loud fast Japanese, gesticulating wildly with his arm, telling Billy to move away from the fallen wrestler.
Billy ignored the official. He bent down and his heavy taped hand seized the front mask cloth of Jey. He lifted up the weary luchador and gave him hauling chops to the chest. Jey’s legs wobbled under him as if they were rubber. He was exhausted from the hard fight with the master of Strong Style. He was out of ammunition to fend off a new and aggressive foe.
Billy reeled back his taped right forearm. He swung it with all the power in his hip, similar to a heavy wooden baseball bat.
Smack.
The taped forearm slammed into the side of Jey’s head. Jey was thrown around by the impact. Billy grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him back at the steel barricade.
Jey hit the metal structure with a lot of force. His own body weight caused the steel to give way with a loud rumbling. The first row of fans scrambled backward over their seats, holding onto their phones and signs and spilling their drinks in panic.
Billy stalked forward. His movements were measured, slow and calm. This was quite a contrast to the violence he was inflicting. He caught Jey by the left arm and violently dragged and threw him.
Jey shoulders hit hard into the steel ring steps. The hollow, metallic thud rang sharply through the large arena. Jey fell to the ground, grabbing his shoulder. So much pain hit his battered body.
[Commentator 2: He is dismantling Ray Jr! Will someone please do something!]
[Commentator 1: Security personnel are finally running down the aisle. But they might be too late to save the rookie at this rate.]
Four big men in black JW security shirts ran like crazy down the entrance ramp. Billy caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye. His time was quickly running out. He had to make his last attack before he was smothered by the numbers.
Billy picked Jey up off the floor by the waistband of his blue and silver tights and the back of his neck. With a loud grunt of effort, he tossed Jey under the bottom rope. Jey rolled to the middle of the ring, his eyes glazed over and fixed on the bright, blinding lights above the ring, shining down on his broken body.
Billy followed right behind his brother. The referee immediately came in front of Billy, waved his hands frantically, and asked him to go out of the premises.
Billy was not at all hesitant for a moment. He pummeled his foot right into the referee’s gut with a fast, hard kick. The official tumbled over, gasping for breath as he fell to the nearest corner.
A loud boo erupted from the crowd.
Attacking a referee was a major offense in wrestling. It was the ultimate disrespect of the sport, the company, and the fans. The litter from protesting fans started to tumble, falling down on the entrance ramp.
Billy was in the middle of the ring, towering over Jey.
He slowed down and quickly adjusted the lapels of his black vest. He looked down at his younger brother. Jey was struggling to get up, he was losing the battle against his weak body. Jey’s mask was starting to leak blood.
Billy grabbed him by the waist. He lifted him up off the ground. Jey’s chin dangling feebly on Billy’s chest.
Billy pushed Jey’s head down snuggly between his thighs.
[Commentator 1: Wait a minute. What in the world is he setting up here?]
[Commentator 2: No way. He cannot possibly do this. Not after all the damage Ray Jr has already taken tonight!]
Billy’s taped hands tightly gripping his brother’s lower waist, he froze for one agonizing second. He made the people aware of what a terrible move he was about to do.
Then, Billy jumped and did a perfect, high-angle front flip, still keeping Jey in position. They both rotated in an intense way through the air.
They rained down on the canvas with a thud.
Jey’s head was slammed with smashing impact into the mat as Billy flipped over.
Mexican Destroyer.
Pure, devastating agility. A piledriver that demanded perfect timing, incredible core strength, and ruthless, unforgiving intent. Billy had done it so perfectly, it was just a seasoned veteran spiking his brother right on the crown of his head.
Jey’s body went totally limp upon impact. He sprawled out wide on his back, arms hanging at his sides. He was unconscious.
The arena was in stunned and horrified silence. The loud boos literally died in the throats of the Japanese fans. The level of sheer violence they had just seen was beyond what was considered normal and acceptable in a professional wrestling bout. This was no sports match. This was intensely personal, and it wasn’t comfortable.
Billy slowly and carefully stood up. He didn’t even bother to look down at his broken brother. He casually dusted off his black vest and made sure his white shirt was still tucked into his trousers.
The four security guards finally got into the ring from all four sides. They encircled Billy slowly, with great hesitation to touch the mystery man.
Billy pretended like they weren’t there. He strolled over to the edge of the ring rope, looking over to the timekeeper’s area and gesturing for a microphone.
A mic was thrown into his hand by a shaking announcer.
The security guards took a hesitant step towards him, but Billy just waved his taped hand. It was such a simple act and had tremendous quiet power that the guards actually halted and waited to see what he would do next.
Billy whirled and stood right above Jey’s almost lifeless body. Billy held the microphone to his face, with the metal grille against the white of his mask. The attacker’s loud, heavy breathing was heard throughout the Grand Auditorium, in every corner.
He gazed down at his younger brother, who stole the family legacy from him. The golden boy, who had just clinched a good corporate deal. The rookie that foolishly believed he could just put on a mask and become a legend overnight.
Billy clasped the plastic handle of the microphone in his fist...
"Bitch."