The Wells Fargo Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania was still in the process of coming down from their last high from the previous match-up. Philly had the reputation of being a pretty ornery crowd as far as things go in the professional wrestling world, so a cool-down period was more than welcome. Bathroom breaks and sustenance became a necessity when you were all-but required to tear the roof off the building for each and every single match. The following competition would absolutely be no different. The lights dimmed down as seats began to fill yet again and a single spotlight beamed down from the heavens of the arena, highlighting their angelic messenger in XWA ring announcer Hana Ramirez. She cleared her throat somewhat loudly to calm down the ruckus enough to begin.
”Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL! And is a Steel Chain Dog Collar match for the possession of the defunct 2WWF World Championship. The rules for this competition are as follows: Each competitor will be shackled with a dog collar around their throats and attached to one another by a 20-foot steel chain. This match will be sanctioned under no disqualification rules and will only end after a successful pinfall, submission, or when either competitor is unable to continue. With that out of the way, introducing first; hailing from Los Angeles, California and weighing in at 232 lbs… he is “The Angelic Diablo”, “Undead Bati”, SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSEAN! YOOOOOOOOOOOOOUNG!”
”Save Yourself” by Psiren began to thrum through the arena’s airwaves as the freshly-unretired Sean Young strolled out onto the entrance ramp looking like he was ready for business. Young had set his sights upon his prey and took his shot, laying down the challenge to his former teammate and mentor in Ace Acid. “The Wicked One” accepted as ominously as he could muster, and thus this match bore fruit on the timeline of history. The eager Philly crowd filled the arena with cheers of “2DUB! 2 DUB! 2 DUB!” as Sean descended the ramp towards the fabled squared circle. He entered the ring and allowed himself a single smirk as the crowd adulated him with a chorus of cheers. It was time to bite the hand that feeds.
”And introducing second; failing from Columbus, Ohio and weighing in at 235 lbs… he is “The Wicked One”, “The Uncrowned King”, ACE! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACID!”
The simmering crowd began to come to a boiling point as the opening power chord of Asking Alexandria’s “The Final Episode” blared through the personal announcement system like a star going supernova. Dense, pale fog covered the top of the ramp and the single sinister silhouette of Ace Acid made himself visible within, his gleaming 2WWF World Championship belt snugly sitting upon his hip bones. The double bass of Acid’s entrance theme thundered in the background like war drums signalling an epic incoming battle -- which in this case was surely correct. The Columbus native began his descent to the ring area, the excitement of the crowd ebbing and flowing to something of a frenzied state all the while. Acid reached the foot of the ramp and immediately swung a hard right, beginning a lap around the ring as his former protege in Young watched from inside the squared circle. The self-appointed 2WWF World Champion made uncomfortably stoic eye contact with Mark Sanction as he passed the commentary table and made his way around the final corners of the ring, ending back where he begun his journey at the foot of the ramp. Without a gesture or word, a ring assistant practically leapt forward and prostrated themselves before “The Serpent in The Garden”, offering him a platform to step off of and up to the ring apron. Ace gladly accepted, and wiped his boots on the apron in a show of reverence before entering his home away from home. The 2WWF Hall of Famer walked straight up to Sean Young and raised the 2WWF Championship only inches away from his face as the crowd began to reach an uproar. Acid handed the strap to the waiting official who reluctantly raised the blasphemous artifact in the air. While this contest wasn’t ”officially” sanctioning the defense of the championship per se, it was governing the passing of its possession from owner to owner. Good enough. Ace Acid strolled to the opposing corner of the ring, where a different ring aid reached up and began to fasten a dog collar around his neck -- another aid doing the same for Young.
Mark Sanction: “Those that are faint of heart, please be advised -- this bout will not be pretty. These two former friends will be bound to one another for the next however-many minutes and neither will leave the ring until the other is utterly incapacitated. It’s very telling that neither man’s supporting individuals are here at ringside with them.”
DING DING DING
The riotous Philly crowd was practically snarling as if they were rabid dogs that foamed from their maws as the two competitors set into motion in the squared circle. Neither man committed to making the first move, both analyzing and observing the every move of their adversary across the length of twenty feet of steel chain. Surely, though he didn’t show it on the surface, Sean Young must have been wracked with nerves. He had been forced to retire, and then yanked from retirement from the very same man who sent him there -- Jacob Eulson. Now, he stood toe to toe with his one-time mentor and industry legend and bogeyman; Ace Acid. Inch by agonizing inch, Acid began to clasp his hands around the length of chain attached to his throat and pulled himself closer to Sean. The Los Angeles native followed his former partner’s lead in this elegant dance of violence, coming closer and closer to the manic and unpredictable “Wicked One”. When they were just an arm’s length or two away from one another, the “Champion” struck suddenly, yanking with all of his weight on the chain and pulling Sean directly to him. Ace Acid grabbed the surprised Sean Young over his collarbone and stepped far behind him, involuntarily arching Young’s back against his will to set up for his finishing maneuver -- Neverwhere. A crazed grin danced over the visage of Acid, but his antics were nipped in the bud as Sean shook out his cobwebs and pushed free of Ace’s grip and stepped out of the legend’s immediate reach. Ace turned with a bemused expression on his face and tapped his finger to his temple before conveying a sentiment to his foe that he’d already expressed before when accepting his challenge: “There are no strings on me.”
Matt Steel: “Hahaaa! Acid with the mind games. Fucking classic. Sean Young might as well pack his bags now. He’s in Ace Country now!”
Mark Sanction: “Did you just say ’Ace Country’? That’s so cringey. Either way, it appears that “The Angelic Diablo” has some cobwebs to shake out of his system before we get started here tonight. If he can’t then he’s going to be in for a heck of a night with his former mentor in Acid.”
The two men make it seem like they’ll fall back into the same rhythm they had begun before, silently watching one another while they played mock tug-of-war with one another. The renowned striker in Sean Young had other plans, however, as he lunged forward without forewarning and pushed Acid against the ropes while simultaneously slamming a knee into his abdomen. The chains of their bondage rattled disconcertingly as Sean followed up his knee with an open-handed slap, and then an uppercut. The 2WWF Champion flailed backwards, using the ropes as leverage as his former protege laid into him with a barrage of strike combinations from all angles. Ace got his hands up just enough to push Sean hard in the chest, creating some distance momentarily -- before realizing that Young had a hold of a length of Acid’s half of the steel chain, and yanked Ace back to him relentlessly. Before “The Sage of Shadows” could appropriately react, Young had cupped his head down into an adeptly applied Muay Thai clinch and began to fire away with a series of knee strikes to his chest and face. Ace fell to a knee, stunned by a shot that had caught him in the bridge of the nose and Young began to smell blood in the water. That is, until the length of Acid’s bicep found a new home in his groin with a totally legal Low Blow. Sean’s facade contorted into a veneer of anguish as Acid connected with a hard open-hand slap to the face as he regained his footing. Bringing the same hand back across in the opposite direction, Acid connected with the muscular flesh of “Undead Bati’s” chest with a knife-edged chop. Using momentum to his fullest advantage, Ace spun following his own hand while simultaneously outstretching his other in hopes of a spinning back fist to finish his strike combination he liked to call Rhythm of War. This wasn’t in the cards for tonight, however, as Sean pushed him away with a split-second to spare. Ace stumbled forward momentarily and turned back around, which is when the Los Angeles native saw a length of steel chain now in Acid’s hand. Ace yanked on the chain and spun again, looking to decapitate Sean with his Blood Moon spinning back kick -- but instead completed his rotation with no connection, as Sean had dodged underneath and followed through with his own Judas Kiss 540-degree rotation kick!
Mark Sanction: “Wow! Judas Kiss! Forget what I said earlier, Matt. Sean Young has come to play and is pulling no punches against Ace Acid. He must really want his hands on that 2WWF World Championship.”
Matt Steel: “Ehhhh! Young just got lucky, that’s all! One little spinny kick isn’t enough to put the likes of Ace Acid down. He’s a member of The Hierarchy for fuck’s sake! The elites of elites!”
Mark Sanction: “You mean the team whose leader has lost his last two singles matches leading into his title defense in No Man’s Land here tonight?”
Matt Steel: “*unintelligible angry noises* SANCTIONNNNNN!”
No sooner than Ace’s back hitting the mat following the big move by Young was Young himself on the downed champion like flies to carrion. Acid had flopped onto his stomach following the maneuver, but that fact didn’t halt Sean’s progress as he firmly grasped a length of the steel chain in his hand and looped it around Acid’s skull. In one fluid motion, “Koro Sensei” planted the top of his own head into the mat and somersaulted down Acid’s back while simultaneously pulling on the chain length, contorting Ace’s head and neck into a brutal rendition of his SKYLocker Muta Lock! The chain links rested viciously over Ace’s eye sockets as Sean wrenched down upon the hold, torquing the champion’s neck at an unnatural and unpleasant angle. “The Uncrowned King” clawed at the chains of bondage that squeezed against his eyes and screamed out in a mix of terror and agony. Meanwhile, Sean Young roared with competitive intensity, and decided to reply to Ace’s earlier banter with a smidgen of his own. ”You think I’M the slave? It’s you who is the slave, my man!”. While Young bantered and continued to inflict punishment on him, Acid began to explore alternate means of survival. An easy method presented itself to him fairly quickly, as instead of clawing at his own eyes he decided it’d ultimately be best to claw his opponent’s instead. So he did. The self-appointed 2WWF World Champion reached around his foe’s head, which was so conveniently planted right next to his own, and dragged his fingernails across Sean’s corneas as viciously as he could muster. It was enough, as Acid’s former trainee yelped in surprised pain and relinquished his hold on the hardcore take on a Muta Lock.
Matt Steel: “What the FUCK!? Is nobody going to stop this ingrate? He just tried to blind my man Ace!”
Mark Sanction: “I mean, using the chain is totally legal in a Steel Chain Dog Collar match, Matt. It’s literally in the name.”
Ace Acid kicked his feet in pain and began to punch at the mat to rile himself enough to fight through it. He pushed himself up to his knees and slowly, menacingly began to wrap the closest links of his end of the chain around his fist while his momentarily blinded opponent began to recover. Just as Sean Young began to push himself up to his knees as well, Acid dropped him back to the mat with a single chain-wrapped right hand punch. The Los Angeles sprawled out on the canvas and began to buck and writhe in pain, rolling onto his stomach as he clutched at his visage. Ace allowed the coiled length of chain to dangle free from his fist, but now grabbed the steel in a large loop instead. With Young’s bare back prostrated before him, a disturbing facade plastered itself on Acid’s face before he brought down the length of steel chain in an overhand swing, whipping Sean Young as only one dubbed “The Avatar of Violence” could. Sean cried out in a chorus of agony as Ace continued swinging the chain repeatedly, uttering delusional ramblings all the while. ”DEATH IS BETTER THAN BONDAGE! DEATH IS BETTER THAN BONDAGE!”. Ace finally relented after several vicious lashings with the length of chain and simply pulled on it as hard as he could instead, forcing the freshly wailed-upon vessel of Sean Young to stumble through his pain and to his feet. Sean blindly followed the pull of the chain as if he were a leashed hound as Acid led him to a corner of the ring, where Ace himself pushed himself up to a seated position in the top rope. Through the haze of his own stinging back pain, Sean watched as Acid stood up on the top rope, still holding the chain taut in his hands before he began to tightrope across the top rope as if he were the legendary Undertaker (he wishes). Preparing for his Little Evil[/i] tightrope clothesline using the steel chain as leverage, Ace stopped and steadied himself while looking down on his choked and oblivious foe. Unfortunately, the master had fallen for the bait of his student’s trap, as Sean Young yanked Ace off of the top rope and caught him elegantly in a fireman’s carry. Young subsequently swung Acid’s legs out hoping to connect with his Prophecies End jawbreaker, but it was not to be as Ace landed behind him with the reflexes of a dastardly feline. Just when he had thought himself out of deep and dark water, Young was seized from behind by Acid’s legs which flipped him mercilessly into a Poison Rana that spiked Young head-first on the canvas; a move Ace entitled Lies and Arbor Gold! For the first time in the contest, Acid goes for the cover on his unmoving foe.
Mark Sanction: “Wow! A strong kickout from Sean Young there! There must still be a lot of fight left in “The Prime Elite’s” tank. Dare I say that Ace Acid and Mark Storey trained him well?’
Matt Steel: “Yeah, maybe a little too fucking well. C’mon Ace, put this punk out of his misery already!”
Ace didn’t appear too frustrated at the lack of a finish, but it was difficult to tell with his only expressions ever being “silently stoic” and “maniacal murderer”. The current reigning and “defending” 2WWF World Champion stepped to his feet with a handful of Sean’s tightly curled hair between his fingers, dragging the man to a kneeling position before him. He (quite literally) talked down to his opponent as he rained closed fist after closed fist down on his dazed face. ”Do you remember what I taught you back then, Seanathan? One to embody the power. ME. One to crave the power. YOU. To this day, that has not changed. I AM THE EMBODIMENT OF POW-” Ace was saying with a serpentine hiss to tone before his slithering words caught in his throat. He looked down with a mutual expression of shock and pain to see Sean Young had returned his earlier favor of a Low Blow, causing “The Uncrowned King” to double over to the mat and give Sean a breather for a moment. At this moment Sean turned his back to the camera, and the audience and viewers at home both gained a view of the numerous criss-crossing welts across his back -- courtesy of his mentor Ace Acid and his trusty steel chain. Speaking of said chain, as Sean caught his breath he began to compile the majority of the chains in his hands and slowly was wrapping them around the upper body of his debilitated adversary. The challenger willed himself to his feet and used the chains to bring Ace with him against his wishes, before using the coiled chains to lock in a highly-stylized Cobra Clutch in conjunction with Acid’s own arm! The possessor of the 2WWF Title attempted to fight against his bonds, but Young wasn’t about to let him escape his grasp yet again like the previous move he attempted. This time, Sean put his slight height advantage to use and popped his hip against Ace’s, flopping his mentor up into the air before drilling him down across his knee in a Cobra Clutch Backbreaker that Sean lovingly called The Tempting of Adam! Pretty ironic to use on a guy who called himself “The Serpent in the Garden”... This time, Young made the cover.
Matt Steel: “Haha! Not so fast, Seanny boy. Daddy’s still here.”
Mark Sanction: “Well that’s just… disturbing, really. But yes, much like his student, Acid kicked right out with a lot of life leftover. We haven’t seen the end of either former “our World now” member yet.”
With the practically in-shambles Philadelphia crowd behind him, Sean Young began to breathe in a second wind of energy. He stepped up to his feet and made a long loop in the steel chain that was buckled to the collar at his throat. He spoke to the prone Ace Acid, and began to swing away; meaty men slapping meaty men with slappy steel. ”OH! You right! I DO crave that power, Acey-boy! And I’m finna TAKE it!”. Sean continued bringing the steel chain whip down upon Acid’s back in long, overhand swings much as his mentor had done to him earlier in the contest. Turnabout was such fair play, it seemed. Ace cried out in pain, anguished whimpers escaping his lips as he tried to roll away from Young only to catch a swing of steel chain directly to the chest. Acid’s cheeks puffed out with a held exhalation of anguish as tears welled in the corners of his eyes. The champion’s slightly-bronze body already began to welt and swell with the receipts of Sean’s assault. Young continued to wail on Acid for a few more moments, slapping his abdomen, his legs -- anywhere he could with the steel chain, but after many swings his arms began to tire from repeatedly lifting the weapon. With “The Uncrowned King” still lying dormant on the mat, wincing and cradling his bruised vessel from the pain, Sean approached the nearby corner and ascended to the top rope with malicious intent in mind. The Los Angeles native got his footing squared beneath him and looked to be preparing for a Shooting Star Press judging by the hesitation, a bold choice in a match such as this. But bold maneuvers were the only kind that could conquer someone such as Ace Acid. In this case, however, Sean’s hesitation proved to also be his downfall. Quite literally, in fact, as Ace suddenly sat up and yanked on the chain, causing his former protege to lose his footing, slipping and falling genitals-first upon the top turnbuckle. The audience provided the “ooooo” acoustic effects to really add some layers to the moment as Sean cried out in testicular torture.
Mark Sanction: “Well that’s certainly not how Sean Young expected that to go. But hesitation can spell disaster when facing down a foe as conniving and dangerous as Sean’s own mentor.”
Matt Steel: “Ace isn’t toted as a hardcore fucking God for no reason, Sanction. He really is an “Avatar of Violence”. His in-ring awareness and ingenuity when it comes to inflicting pain are just on another plane of existence.”
Mark Sanction: “That was… Alarmingly accurate and insightful. Well done, partner.”
Matt Steel: “Hey, fuck you I have my moments!”
Sean Young wailed in agony from his tumultuous mount on the top turnbuckle, like a matador riding a bull and holding on for dear life. This gave Ace Acid the time he severely needed to recover from “Undead Bati’s” previous onslaught, the painful red welts criss-crossing all over his body creating a railroad junction-esque series of overlaps. The self-appointed 2WWF Champion gritted his teeth through the stinging torment and forced himself back to his feet. Careful not to approach his former protege before the time was right, the Columbus native hopped the top rope onto the ring apron, dragging the chain along with him. From the apron, Ace now approached the former XWA and 2WWF Lion Heart Champion and caught him with a probably-unnecessary right hand to keep him in a dazed state, before pulling Young closer to force him to adjust his footing on the turnbuckle. Ace pulled Sean’s head down and locked it beneath his own shoulder, while simultaneously cupping the backs of both of Sean’s knees. Acid lifted his adversary up off the top rope and turned around to face the apron (the hardest part of the ring, by the by) and looked as if he aimed to cripple Sean Young with an apron Muscle Buster. The anxiously watching audience reached a fever pitch of anticipation, buzzing with animosity as the champion began to move forward to complete the surely-devastating maneuver. Sean’s Spidey-senses must have begun tingling at that exact moment, as he began to frantically fight for his life from his precarious position, punching and clawing at Acid’s already-maimed face in an attempt to save himself. A successful attempt, at that, as Sean managed to free himself from Ace’s clutches at the last second and swung his legs over the top rope and back into the ring elegantly, the majority of the chain length following him. Before “The Serpent in the Garden” could react, Sean shot forward and kicked his legs out from under him on the apron. Acid’s bottom smacked the ring apron just as Young grabbed the chain as close to Ace as he could manage, hanging the 2WWF Champion up by his throat.
Mark Sanction: “Oh no! This is going too far! The referee needs to stop this match before someone is seriously maimed or worse.”
Matt Steel: “What the fuck is this bullshit? You can’t hang people in wrestling!”
Mark Sanction: “Well, you shouldn’t hang people period…”
In perhaps a shade of his mentor, Sean began to grin somewhat maniacally as Ace Acid kicked his feet dramatically and clutched at the collar that choked the life from his throat. Maintaining his iron grip on the chain, Sean leaned over the top rope to make eye contact with Ace as he shot him some choice banter. ”Death is better than bondage, remember!? Haha, so why don’t you go ahead and die-” Sean’s lecture is abruptly cut off all of a sudden as a mushroom cloud of Crimson Mist plumes into his eyes -- Ace Acid’s trademark Promise in Blood. The blinded “Entity of Entities” shrieked and released his hold on Acid’s makeshift noose, falling back to the canvas in the ring while he frantically attempted to claw the red mist from his eyeballs. The self-appointed 2WWF Champion used this moment to take a few huge breaths, refilling his depleted lungs as he rubbed at the freshly bruised skin of his larynx. Slowly, “The Uncrowned King” made his way back onto the ring apron and hopped the top rope back into the ring. Sean had pushed himself back to his hands and knees but appeared to still be struggling greatly with the visibility-dampening effects of Acid’s Promise in Blood. The defending champion stalked his rising prey like a predator on the savannah, waiting for the opportune moment to finally strike and sink his fangs in. Sean made a weak attempt to stand up, and Ace struck, grabbing his former protege by the arm and spinning him around. If time could be stopped on a dime, one would have seen Sean’s triumphant grin through his crimson mask on the pause screen. Just as Ace spun him, Young revealed that he had (at least partially) been playing possum, as he leapt into the air in front of Ace and yanked him head-first down into the canvas with a Leaping Cutter that was remarkably similar to the finisher of another XWA superstar…
Mark Sanction: “Call me crazy, but… That was Mark Storey’s MAS, was it not? Is Sean Young trying to send some sort of message to Acid here? Using his other mentor’s finisher against Acid? Or is this just an attempt to disgrace Ace in his defeat?”
Matt Steel: “As much as you know I love me some Storey, that was low!”
Both Ace Acid and Sean Young laid in a crumpled heap on the sweat-stained canvas, their chests heaving in and out uncontrollably against the weight of their fatigue at this stage in the contest. There was something to be said for the amount of time Ace Acid was down following Sean’s bastardization of the MAS. What fate would befall “The Uncrowned King” if he fell prey to the progenitor maneuver, hmm? Perhaps time will tell, perhaps not. The crushing toll this match had taken on both men’s bodies was beginning to take precedence over their overclocked adrenaline, as neither man seemed able to move an inch as they laid practically head-to-head on the mat. Understandably so, Sean Young was the first to break this cycle as he slowly peeled himself from the canvas and rolled to the left onto his stomach. He inched forward, bit by painful bit, even becoming slightly entangled in the mass of chains between himself and his foe as he draped an arm over Ace’s chest with only fumes left in his tank. Ace didn’t budge as the official slid to the mat to make the cover.
Mark Sanction: “Whoa-ho! Sean almost upset Acid the- OH NO!”
Play-by-play commentator Mark Sanction was unceremoniously cut off as “The Artist Formerly Known as God” roared back to life with a newfound hatred in his eyes. Upon throwing his arm up to break the fall, Acid seamlessly transitioned into his submission finisher, Izanagi; a modified Koji Clutch! Highly modified, in this case, as instead of using his hand to apply the crossface on his foe’s leg-trapped head he used a length of chain that Sean himself had inadvertently dragged with him! Sean’s previously drooping eyes suddenly began to bulge out of their sockets in pain as he scratched and clawed for purchase against Ace’s devastatingly brutal submission finisher. Despite his surge in power, Acid was still too weak to fend against Sean slowly inching both of them towards the nearest-by bottom rope -- though, unfortunately a rope break would do little in a no holds barred contest such as this one. Perhaps Sean Young acted on sheer instinct, or perhaps he had another plan in mind altogether. Regardless, the Los Angeles native continued to fight through the torture and pulled himself and Ace both towards the bottom rope, refusing to be put down by Izanagi. Ace bucked and writhed, trying to increase the torque and pressure on the hold as he grinded the chain links against his foe’s face, but Sean’s progress would not be halted. “Koro Sensei” grabbed the bottom rope, to which the referee immediately deigned to inform him would do nothing for him. “ERH-KNOW!” the challenger barked through his steel muzzle, and pulled hard on the ropes. This last ditch effort caused a waterfall effect where both champion and challenger were sent plummeting from the ring apron to the arena floor, Izanagi still applied till the bitter end.
Matt Steel: “Fuck’s sake! Just give up already, Young! You’ve already proven your worth tonight, I’ll give him that much. He’s held his own with Ace fucking Acid. But if he goes any further there might not be any coming back!”
Mark Sanction: “On that, my friend, I think we can perhaps agree.”
Much to Sean’s relief, the impact of the Sean/Ace comet upon the surface of the arena floor managed to force Ace Acid to release his iron grip on Izanagi, thus freeing Sean from his hellish prison. Both broken and battered competitors panted heavily on the arena floor, probably not entirely sure of where they were or how they got there. Their bodies were almost mirror images of one another; covered in an amalgam of scrapes, bruises and welts from the unnervingly brutal match stipulation they had agreed upon. Somehow, some way, both highly durable individuals began to stir on the arena floor; their crash and burn post-Izanagi not having broken them to the fullest extent just yet. Both competitors groggily pushed themselves up from the hard rubber mat and up to their wobbly feet, forming a mutual pact to reenter the squared circle and end this gauntlet of anguish once and for all inside its confines. The former teacher and student pair lazily rolled under the bottom rope and into the ring in tandem, and pushed through their exhaustion to return to their feet and stand toe to toe with one another in the ring’s center; lighting a fire in the Wells Fargo arena crowd for one last push. Both men looked at one another, nodding in some semblance of approval -- or at the very least, mutual respect -- and then, with the throw of one single punch, the final brawl began in a flurry of tired fists. Both Sean Young and Ace Acid pummeled away at one another, their stamina steadily deteriorating and approaching the level of total bodily failure. Out of nowhere, “The Angelic Diablo” broke formation with a quick knee to the gut that doubled his one-time mentor over. Attempting to put Acid down like a lame mare, Sean leapt into the air for a second MAS -- but this time Ace had the move scouted, using all of his strength to push Sean as far away as possible, but collapsing to his own hands and knees in the process. Sean Young managed to stop his forward momentum just shy of colliding with the corner of the ring. He turned around and analyzed the form of the prostrated Ace Acid, and then a disturbingly wicked smile began to spread across his lips.
Mark Sanction: “That look on Sean’s face…That’s the look of someone who is willing to do whatever it takes to win… It’s the look of Ace Acid’s training in him, if nothing else.”
Matt Steel: “You’re god damn right it is… Wait… No, Sean, don't do that! Whatever it is you’re doing, don’t do it!”
The look of manic frenzy continued to dance across “Undead Bati’s” face as he reached down and slowly began to coil a length of the steel chain that bound him and his foe together around the calf of his right leg. Ace Acid watched curiously from his kneeling position, unable to do anything about it even if he cared to; exhausted as he was. A grin of eager mania also began to plaster itself across his face as well. Like teacher, like student. Ace called out to Sean, practically begging. “DO IT, SEAN! CUT ME DOWN! SMITE ME! A MAN CHOOSES SEAN! But a slave? A SLAVE OBEYS! HahaHaHaHAHAHAHA!” Ace barked out through his exhausted and demented state of mania. Sean was more than willing to oblige him, however, even without the taunts and bribes. With the steel chain wrapped around his lower leg, Sean shot forward in preparation to cut Ace down with his last resort maneuver; The Prophet Punt. Just within striking distance, however, everything changed as the scene devolved into a chaotic cacophony.
For Ace Acid was playing possum.
“The Uncrowned King” surged to life one final time, pushing himself up off his hands and knees and in one fluid motion executing a pinpoint accuracy dropkick to the chain-wrapped shin of Sean Young! The challenger yelped in pain, clutching his leg as he was violently flipped down onto the mat in front of Ace. Acid wasted no time going after his prey, lasting waste to the downed Young with a barrage of stomps aimed at his chain-wrapped limb. When it seemed apparent that the Los Angeles native wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon, a sinister and malevolent look washed over the visage of “The Avatar of Violence” and he began to uncoil the length of chain from his foe’s leg.
Matt Steel: “It’s time, Sanction… Comeuppance is upon us.”
Mark Sanction: “Comeuppa- Matt, are you reading a dictionary???”
Matt Steel: “I wouldn’t say I’m NOT reading a dictionary. In fact, it is indubitable that I am reading one.”
The camera catches a brief glimpse of Mark Sanction mouthing the words “what the fuck?” but not speaking them aloud.
Ace Acid took the freshly liberated length of steel chain from his opponent’s previously entangled leg and began to wrap it instead around the upper body of the face-down Sean Young, thus pinning his arms to his sides against his will. Once the entirety of the loose bits of the chain were wrapped around Sean, and the man couldn’t move freely on his own accord, Ace pulled back on the two ends in his hands and surfboarded Sean’s body backwards off the mat in an unnatural arch. Sean’s facial features shot to life and panic washed over his facade as he realized he couldn’t resist the web Ace had caught him in. In a vulgar homage to Super Dragon, Ace Acid placed the sole of his boot between the chain-wrapped shoulder blades of Sean Young and viciously Curb Stomped him face-first into the canvas. A move Ace used to call Capital Punishment in his youth; but now referred to it as The Last Argument of Kings. Sean Young could be heard softly moaning through busted lips on the mat, still seemingly having held onto the last vestiges of consciousness somehow.
Unfortunately for Sean, his mentor had no intention of stopping at just one stomp.
Ace used the chains again, surfboarding his opponent before violently stomping him face-first against the mat again. And again. And again. And again. Blood seeped onto the mat from Sean’s nose, his lips, from a busted open laceration on his eyebrow. Suddenly, the referee had appeared from seemingly nowhere sporting black nitrile gloves and threw up an X using their forearms, signalling for the bell to be rung. They rushed Acid and unshackled his dog collar before pushing him away from the limp carcass of Sean Young. A wild grin had spread itself across the 2WWF Champion’s face as he took note of the carnage he himself had caused tonight. Hana Ramirez’s voice boomed through the arena.
DING DING DING
”Your winner of this contest via referee stoppage, and STILL the possessor of the 2WWF World Championship, ACE! AAAAAAAAAAAACID!”
Mark Sanction: "Dear god, what did we just witness? Sean's weak heart may have just finally given out after that..."
A horde of paramedics and ring staff stormed the squared circle, simultaneously ushering Acid away from his opponent while loading Sean Young onto a stretcher. The timekeeper handed Acid his championship belt as he was forced out of the ring to the arena floor. He continued to laugh and cackle like a hyena, as two ring aids threw his arms over their shoulders to help him up the ramp.
But the thought remained -- did Ace Acid out last Sean Young, or did he merely escape him?
On a Pole faded to black to cut to a backstage segment.