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"No, I can't join them at ringside. I have no time." Bagaran was
walking down one of the hallways of the Civic Center with a cellular phone
in his right hand. Bagaran was hoping for an easy night. One that he was
waiting for many years in this sport, but the way things were going, tonight
just wouldn't be one."We don't have an extra camera crew? Why didn't you tell me this Wednesday? You had plenty of time." Bagaran suddenly stopped in his path. A pair of large black boots had taken the space Bagaran was about to pass through. The boots led to giant legs, followed by a huge upper torso and finally the face of Kodiak Vic Creed. Creed snarled at the eighty year old Bagaran who took a step back. "Give me a minute..." Bagaran looked up at Creed and dropped the cellular phone to his side. "What the hell are you trying to prove, Vic. I give you what you want. I market you to the public and you're not going to take a second out of your schedule to answer a few questions? You aren't going to go far in this organization with this attitude of yours, Vic. I'm not a push over and there are six other guys who wanted to take that second out of their time to speak with me." Vic nodded to every word that Bagaran had said. "Ok, Craig. Go ahead. You've got your second." "I've got no time now, Vic. We have two camera crews. One following me, and one at ringside as we speak. I can't even interview the rest of the guys now. We're short for time as it is. You should have agreed to this earlier." "Craig, when I take a second out of my schedule for you, you better use it. Ask now, or you don't have your fourth match tonight." Bagaran closed his eyes taking a deep breath. He raised the phone, but kept his eyes on Creed. "I'll call you back." Creed nodded and smiled at Bagaran. Bagaran slipped the phone into his pocket and guided the cameraman to his right side. Bagaran stood beside Kodiak Vic Creed, but Creed began walking away. "Where are you going, now?" "Seconds up. Later!" Kodiak chuckled and walked away turning the corner out of the camera's view. Bagaran's eyes closed once again. It had been a long day already. Not only could he interview each superstar due to the lack of camera's and time, but also one of his bigger names wouldn't do his part to help the newly formed federation off the ground. Bagaran reached for his cell phone and the scene was cut to the camera crew's at ringside.   
The 6'3", 256 pound rookie Jason Warrior strode out from the back and into the arena. He recieved a reaction of mostly cheers, although the reaction itself was quiet. Warrior looked unaffected, determined as he entered the ring, because he was facing a beast of a man. That man was 'Kodiak' Vic Creed. Creed had three inches and almost one-hundred pounds on Warrior, and a vast amount of experience. Warrior's head jerked back, looking down towards the entrance way, as the dark undertones of "Walk" by Pantera began to spill out of the loudspeakers. The audience erupted in a mix of boos and cheers and the boos had an advantage. Creed's inhuman physique glittered in the spotlight and his trademark black sunglasses reflected the light right back at Jason Warrior. Creed slowly entered the ring and stood looking down at Warrior with an evil grin. Warrior's face remained unflinching, a stone facade, and the bell rang. The two stood glaring at each other for several seconds. Suddenly, they locked up, and amazingly, Warrior shrugged Creed off. Creed staggered back, his grin trembling in front of clenched teeth. They locked up again, but Creed came out early with a hard kick to the stomach. Warrior doubled over for a second, before rushing up with a hard right hand that sent Creed's sunglasses crashing to the mat. Creed's grin was all but gone as he sent a right hand of his own cracking across the jaw bone of Jason Warrior. Warrior returned, the Creed, and a flurry of punches began. Creed switched to a left, but Warrior block, and came across with a closed fist to the temple of Creed. Creed remained up, but on only one knee. As he shook off the blow, Warrior grabbed the back of Creed's head and sent a Knee Lift right below the bridge of his nose. Creed wobbled and both knees were on the mat. Warrior went for a kick, but Creed caught it and stood up, shaking his head and laughing. He swung Warrior around, only to be sent hard into the air with a huge clothesline. Creed hit the mat and the crowd exploded, with both amazment and approval. He rolled to the right and shook his head again, puzzled. Warrior went to the attack, but Creed countered and slammed Warrior's face into the turnbuckle. Once, then again before releasing and turning his back for a moment. When Creed turned back around, he was met with another clothesline, once again sending him to the mat. Creed shook his head again, and was completely shocked at Warrior's offence. Warrior came at him slowly, but Creed jumped up and ran to the far ropes, coming back with a Clothesline. Warrior ducked and Creed hit the ropes again. The two met in the center of the ring. Warrior clutched Creed's tree trunk of a waist and paused, before sending Creed over in a Belly to Belly Suplex. Creed came up quickly and went immideatley to the referee. He pulled at the back of his head, telling the referee that Warrior had grabbed his hair. The referee shook his head no and Creed spat in anger. He turned into a right hand from Jason Warrior, then a left backing Creed into the ropes. Warrior Irish Whipped Creed to the far ropes, but Creed reversed and pulled Warrior close, hitting a T-Bone Suplex. Creed tried an early pin, only getting a one count. Shocked Creed glared at the referee, allowing Warrior a second to get up. Creed went for a right hand, but Warrior blocked and cradled him into a Suplex position, and then nailed it. The crowd erupted once again at the exhibition of pure strength from Jason Warrior. Warrior now tried a pin, but Creed kicked out before the referee was even in position. The two stood facing one another once again. Warrior still focused, determined, while Creed boiled with anger. They locked up, but Creed gouged Warrior's eyes and bent him down for the "Creedbomb." He held Warrior in that position as he looked out into the crowd, then he went for it. He lifted, but Warrior stood fast. Creed lifted again but Warrior pulled out and hit Creed hard in the stomach, followed by a lightning quick DDT. Creed laid prone on the mat and Warrior decided to go to the top. He had climbed the final turnbuckle and Creed was still down. Warrior lept, but Creed had played possum, and Warrior was caught in mid air. Creed stalked around the ring with Warrior in his grasp, in a Body Slam position. Creed flung Warrior over his head in a Gorilla Press, and began to rep the 256 pounder. Once, twice, three times, then Warrior slipped behind. Creed looked around frantically, then threw an elbow wildly behind him. It glanced off Warrior's neck, allowing Creed to turn around and take Warrior down with a snap Release Northern Lights Suplex. Now Creed was in control, lifting and taking down Warrior with a hard Power Clothesline across the sternum. Warrior rolled in agony on the mat, gasping for breath, but Creed would not allow it. He came down twice with an elbow drop, but when he went for a third, Warrior escaped. Creed rushed Warrior, who bent down and lifted Creed off the mat with a back body drop. However, as Creed was going over, Warrior caught his legs and held him. Then with a scream he threw him down to the mat in a hard Sidewalk Slam. Warrior broke down exhausted, draping an arm over Creed, but Creed got his shoulder up. Warrior's face showed an expression of confusion. He had given it all, but Creed had kept going. Creed's face on the other hand was a mix of shock and frusteration. Both men got up slowly, Warrior the first to strike. They traded blows sluggishly, staggering off balance in the center of the ring. Creed, then Warrior, then Creed. They fought back and forth, neither gaining the advantage, until Warrior threw every bit of strength he had into one last punch. The blow sent Creed reeling back. Warrior took an opportunity, but made one mistake, Creed was still standing. Warrior bounced off the far ropes, running right into Creed. He lifted Warrior up, then slammed him down with the "Powerdriver." Warrior hit and stopped moving, while Creed pinned for a three count. "Walk" by Pantera came on again and 'Kodiak' Vic Creed's arm was raised. Vic spat on the fallen Warrior who had given everything he had and had the advantage most of the match, which didn't happen very often against "The Main Man." Creed retrieved his sunglasses and walked up the ramp. 
Reno Davis entered the food court, he wore a towel over his shoulder
and green shorts that were garnished with sweat. He spoted the canteen and
walked towards it. As he got closer he noticed his fellow jOlt wrestler
erØn the Relentless sitting at a table sipping from a can of Pepsi. Reno
changed his course and stopped to erØn's right."Hey man, my name's Reno Davis...I'm one of the other wrestlers." erØn looks at him, not impressed. "Yeah. So? Think I'm deaf I heard your name." Reno cocked his head and sort of smirked. "You've heard of me?" erØn began to lower his eyes, almost disgusted to look at him. "I can read the Roster sheet. And no, I've never heard of you." Reno broke a full smile, he liked his wit. "Nice comback man. Mind if I sit?" Reno didn't wait for an answer and just sat down in front of erØn anyway. "So...did ya see my match?" erØn grabbed himself a bit of celery and dipped it in the ranch dip, while resting back on the chair and looking the other way. "No. Why would I waste my time watching someone's match. That just makes no sense." Reno leaned back as well and replied:"Dunno...maybe it'll help your strategy a bit in you matches if you watch someone else while they fight?" erØn just took one quick glance at Reno and sneered. "Why would I need help. I think I'm better off not watching a bunch of men in tights." "Tights? Those are for queers man...Mind if I take one?" Reno reached for a piece of celery, but before can, erØn shoves his shoulder out of the way. "Get the hell out of my face." Reno reacts and swats erØn's hand away before it makes contact. "Shit man...I was just kidding. What's wrong with you?" erØn suddenly shoots up standing from his seat, to look Reno in the eye. "You want to know what's wrong with me? Sad, pathetic little robots like you, beeping about the faults of your life, your last acheivement, and you just recently got laid. Now, remove your ass from that chair, and go talk to something which would listen, like a door, and never, speak to me again." Reno slowly pushed himself up out of his seat and took his shades off, revealing his solid blue eyes. "I don't know you, and I already don't like you" erØn just slowly, smirked, as he began to slowly get back into his seat and grab a carrot. "Well, I guess I did the right thing. Screw off." Reno continued to stare at erØn in wonder. He shook his head and spoke silently as he turned to walk away. "This is what makes wrestling such a bitch..." 
Sunday iNtense had just returned from a short commercial break when
the cameras cut to an unknown area of the Civic Center in New Orleans. The
room was cast in a dim yellow light. Against the back corner was the silhouette
of a man's body. A few feet in front of that was the outline of his body.
He was seated on the couch, his knees up to his chin, his arms around his
knees. He had folded himself into a ball. He had been mumbling something
under his breath the entire time the camera was fixed on him, but he didn't
seem to notice. Suddenly he stretched his entire body out. The coffee table
that sat in front of him had a few candles lit on it. He leaned towards
the candles and his face was visible. It was Donaven Winters. Donaven smiled
evilly into the candlelight where he had two photographs in front of him.
One of them was of himself and Diane Wilson. The second was of his opponent
for later on in the evening, Brandon Blade.Donaven's smile widened, his teeth were visible in the dark light as he glared at the two pictures in front of him. His eyes were bearing down on the pictures enough to burn a hole through each of them. His stare was sinister and intense. His smile was growing wider and wider as he picked up the photo of Brandon Blade. He smiled at it and picked up a Sharpie marker that was on the coffee table. On the back he wrote the number "1" on it. Smiling he placed it back down on the table. After placing Blade's photo down he picked up the one of himself and Diane Wilson. They were holding each other in their arms. Donaven's diabolical smile faded into a frown of sorrow. He looked depressed almost seconds after picking it up. He stared at the photo, longing for what used to be. Slowly he turned it over and placed it face down on the table. He knew this wasn't the best time to be down about life. He returned his attention towards the picture of Brandon Blade. It was his opponent, his first battle since November. He was focused, almost in a meditating trance by staring at the picture. But suddenly he took his eyes off of Blade and picked up the other picture. Without even thinking he dangled it over one of the candles and dropped it in. He laughed as he watched it singe and burn before him. He smiled back at the photo of Blade and put it over one of the other candles, letting each corner slowly burn, working their way inward to the center of the picture. He stopped the burning of Blade's picture when it left just the "1" on the back. "It's time to move on," Donaven snarled as he stuck the remnants of Brandon Blade's picture in his pocket. "It's time to move on and Brandon Blade is the first victim."  
The third match in jOlt's short history kicked off as "F'Dying" from KoRn rocked over the loudspeakers. The fans rose to their feet as Erik Rave stepped out onto the entrance ramp. He raised his arms as the cheering started. He walked slowly down to the ramp, taking in all of the cheers from the fans. Slowly making his way around the ring he finally slid in and awaited his opponent. While Erik Rave was in the center of the ring warming up, "F'Dying" faded out and Tool's "Jerk-Off" hit the airwaves. Eron the Relentless came out and the fans began booing the man instantly. ETR could care less as he slowly stalked his way towards the ring, keeping his eyes focused on Erik Rave. Eron slid into the ring and was met quickly with a hard right by Rave. Rave continued the assault with right hands, sending Eron reeling into the ropes. He sent ETR off of the ropes and hit a drop toe hold. Eron got up almost as soon as he brought down and he locked it up with Rave. Eron used his size advantage to push Rave into one of the corners. The referee went in to start his five count and ETR backed off after four, but came back in with a right hook over the ref. Eron came back in with a huge knife-edge chop that got the customary "WHOO!" from the fans. Eron continued his offense by whipping Rave across the ring into the opposite turnbuckles. He tried charging in with a clothesline, but Rave deftly ducked out of the way and Eron met with the turnbuckle. Rave took the stunned Eron and hit a standing dropkick to the back of the head. The front of Eron's head bounced off of the top turnbuckle and got a huge response from the crowd. Rave came down with a couple of quick elbow drops to the sternum of Eron. He catapulted himself off of the ropes and came down with a leg drop across the neck of Eron before going for the pin. Eron easily kicked out, using the force to throw Erik across the ring a few feet. Both men were back to their feet and Rave went for a quick right hand, but it was blocked and Eron hit a kick to the stomach before rearing back and nailing a huge thrust kick to the head of Erik Rave. Eron smiled as Rave collapsed to the mat. Eron took in the jeers of the crowd before arrogantly putting his foot across Rave's chest for the pin. Needless to say, Rave got his shoulder up after the one count. Eron started stomping away on Rave's left knee, knowing that he couldn't fly if he couldn't walk. Eron got down on the mat and locked in a knee lock-type of submission. Erik Rave screamed in pain, but was close enough to the ropes to grab them and force Eron to break the hold. After a close five count Eron released Rave's knee, who reached down and grabbed it. Eron looked down at Rave and laughed at him, telling him to stand up in the process. He took Rave by the arm and yanked him up, but his knee couldn't hold up and he fell back down. Eron laughed at Rave again and kicked at the knee again and again. Rave continued screaming in pain as Eron's laughing became maniacal. He lifter Rave back to his feet and whipped him into the corner, his knee barely making the journey across the ring. Eron casually walked over to Rave and lifted him up on top of the turnbuckle before going up there with him. Eron was looking for his Powerbomb, and got Rave lifted up, but before he could slam Rave to the mat, Eron's powerbomb was twisted into a huge rana by Rave. The crowd roared it's approval as Rave and Eron the Relentless laid on the mat trying to regain their breath. Rave somehow recovered first and got to his feet, limping a bit on his left knee. He brought Eron back to his feet and set him up with a body slam that brought him back down to one knee. Rave stood himself back up and scaled to the top rope. He leaped off and connected with a beautiful corkscrew senton splash. Rave tried a pin but only got a two count as all of the wind had not left ETR's body yet. Rave wasn't done though, he wanted to end this before Eron could get his second wind. Eron sat up, but Rave was there to another dropkick to the back on the head. Eron fell back down to the mat, but Rave picked up him and sent him off of the ropes. Eron ducked Rave's clothesline attempt and went off the opposite side and stopped himself. He went up behind Rave and locked his arms in a full nelson position before going back with it and hitting a tiger suplex. Eron didn't stay and bridge the pin though. He lifted Rave back up and tried to kick him in the stomach, but Rave caught his leg and twisted it into a dragon screw. Eron went to the mat holding onto his knee, which could have been torn out of place. Rave was now in control and took Eron by the head and lifted him up. He put him in position and nailed a falling DDT, his finisher, True Hell. The crowd cheered on and made the count with the referee. Erik Rave had won his first match in jOlt Wrestling. "F'Dying" from KoRn came back on as the crowd got louder and louder, cheering Rave on as he held his arms in the air victorious. Eron looked at Rave with disgust as he climbed out of the ring and headed back to his locker room. Rave celebrated in the ring as Sunday iNtense cut to Craig Bagaran backstage.
"How much longer do we have?" Bagaran was now sitting
behind his desk again. His tie lay before him and his right jacket sleeve
was off, but his left still intact. Bagaran's eyes widened."10 minutes? Ask for more time. I know we only have an hour or so, but this is ridiculous. Phone them up and ask for atleast a few more minutes. The main event is up next. Now phone! Ok... bye" Bagaran hung the phone up and took his arm out of the left sleeve and placed it on the back of his chair. The night itself was only an hour in, yet it felt like a weeks worth of work. His aging hands covered his eyes and cheeks. This was soon followed by a deep breath, a much too common breath as of late, but was halted by a knock at the door. Bagaran raised to his feet and walked towards the door. He reached for the knob and opened to reveal a lovely young lady. She was like serenity to his eyes. Long blonde hair, luscious lips, silky looking skin, gleaming eyes, which just moaned attention. "Y..Yes?" stuttered Bagaran. The woman smiled and replied, "Hi. I'm Samantha Bevins. I work for the building." Bagaran couldn't be more refreshed at the striking green eyes, and voluptuous body. It was like his entire day stopped. And so did the position of his neck, looking down upon her chest. Usually she would be insulted, but this was a feeble old man. "Would you like to come outside for a minute for a chat?" Samantha asked, smiling at Bagaran, who seemed to be in a different world. "Oh umm, sur… No I can't, I have a lot of work to do, I'm sorry, muh miss Bevins." Bagaran felt so vulnerable and he was. Samantha began to move towards him and put her finger on his tie, and let the finger gently slide down the purple and gray striped tie. "One, second?" she asked again. Bagaran was taken. "Alright Miss Bevins. We can go outside." Bagaran got his jacket as they began to walk out the door. "Call me Sam." Samantha said in a soft tone as they walked out the door.  
The fans were on their feet when jOlt's Sunday iNtense returned from commercials. Staind's heavy "Flat" was blaring through the arena P.A. and Donaven Winters was on his way to the ring, glaring at Brandon Blade, who had already arrived. This was a new fronteir for both veterans. The two had accomplished so much in their careers, and the twilight years were not even at the horizon. But it was jOlt's first airing. It was time to prove something in front of the anxious fans and the vigilant management team. This was the big-time. Winters began jogging lightly, not wanting to risk over-exertion. Finally, he go to the ring and hopped onto the apron. While sliding his head under the top rope, Winters felt Brandon Blade push him down to the floor below and heard the bell ring. A shaky start for the young star. As Blade pumped his fists into the air, turning his back on Winters, Donaven got back onto the apron and catapaulted himself off of the ropes, hitting a stern dropkick to the small of Blade's back. Winters quickly got up, but Blade did as well. For a few moments, they circled each other, until Winters lunged forward with a quick jab. Blade was too quick, however, and caught the punch before using Winters' own momentum to hurl the attacking wrestler into the ropes. As Winters came back, Blade jumped up with an attempted head-scissors takedown, but Winters was too quick. Arching his back, Winters flipped Blade up and over his head, then let go. Time froze as Brandon Blade flew through the air, completely out of control. A sickening thud was heard. The crowd stood, and there was silence. Silence because Brandon Blade's forehead hit the top turnbuckle and he only bounced backwards and hit the mat. The referee looked at the timekeeper and was about to call for the signal. But then Blade opened his eyes. Brandon Blade didn't give up. He needed the match and he needed it bad. And the crowd cheered again, chanting the name of Blade, praising him for valiantly fighting on. As Winters drew forward to check on his opponent, Blade hopped to his feet, pulled himself onto the second turnbuckle, and took a giant leap. Winters went to the canvas hard, flipping backwards from a flying clothesline that hit him square in the neck. Again the arena was in an uproar. Blade drove on mercilessly, stomping a few times on the knee of Winters. After the stomping was over with, Brandon Blade applied a camel clutch, stretching Winters to the maximum. The referee ordered the hold broken and Blade climbed off of his opponent, picking him up by the hair. Brandon Blade then immediatly grappled put Winters in a side headlock, not letting the man get any advantage in. After a few flexes of the biceps and a knee to the stomach, Blade jumped and planted Winters' head into the canvas with a stern DDT. Quickly, Blade made a cover but Donaven Winters had plenty of strength and kicked out at one. Blade rolled over and began to think of the work he had remaining. Within moments, he jumped to his feet again and climbed to the top rope after giving a hard standing leg drop to the throat of Winters. Brandon quickly ascended the ropes until he got to the third turnbuckle. Once there, he wasted no time in jumping off. Blade somersaulted once, then landed hard on the chest of Donaven Winters, giving Winters no time to roll away. The ref dropped to count for the pin, checking both shoulders of Winters, but Blade rolled off of his opponent before the count of one. He was not through yet. As the referee got to his feet, Blade did, too, rolling Winters onto his stomach. Brandon Blade then grabbed the right knee of Donaven Winters, this time pulling it up into an elevated half crab. Beneath Blade, Winters writhed and twisted in pain until the referee sternly pushed Blade off. Brandon spun around to argue, but decided not to waste his breath or risk defeat. Instead, after giving a jumping fist drop, Brandon Blade went back up to the top rope, this time perching there, watching Winters like a hawk. Slowly, Donaven Winters stood, shaking his head and rubbing his face with one hand. The creak of the ropes alerted him and he swiftly turned to his right, just in time to see Brandon Blade soaring gracefully through the air with a body press, Winters his intended target. Donaven Winters' mind raced and he raised his arms not a second too soon, catching Blade in mid-air. Doing his best defensive thinking, Donaven Winters threw Brandon Blade as far as he could. Unfortunately, this was a bit to far. Yet again, everyone stood as Brandon Blade sailed through the air, flailing his arms wildly, trying to catch anything he could. He came up with only air. As he cleared the ropes by three feet, those fans who thought they were in his flight path moved out of the way. Brandon Blade, however, stopped just short of the guard rail and crashed through the English announcer's table, shoulder-first. The announcers hopped out of the way, avoiding the splintered wood's flight. The fans in their homes could not hear the team for several seconds, until auxillary power was brought online. In fact, the only thing that could be heard was the gasps that escaped the mouths of on-lookers as Blade stood from another jarring blow. His back was bleeding, bu Brandon Blade still stood tall. When he rolled into the ring, however, Blade was greeted with a stomp to the face from the now weary Donaven Winters. Winters continued the assault by lifting Blade and issuing a textbook snap suplex. Moments later, Winters again brought Blade to his feet, this time giving a picture-perfect piledriver. Counting on Blade being seriously injured, Winters moved in for the kill. First, a reverse Indian deathlock was applied, wrenching the knee of Brandon Blade and twisting it like oragami. On the verge of tapping out, Blade barely held on for the duration of the hold. Winters, however, had no plans for submission. Brandon Blade found himself standing, and inside of Winters' arms. He wasn't there long, however, because soon he was lifted into the Untimely End, the finishing manuever in Winters' reportoire. The referee went down to count as soon as Brandon Blade hit the ground, and began to count after checking both shoulders. One... Two... THREE! NO! NO! Brandon Blade somehow powered his way out of the pin, and the frustrated Donaven Winters jumped to his feet, shoving the referee and pointing his finger, arguing the horrible counting on the official's part. Silently, Brandon Blade crept up and went to the corner, jumping onto the third turnbuckle quickly. From the corner of his eye, Donaven Winters saw Brandon Blade coming, flying through the air, backed by the shouts of the crowd. He was about to execute the Cutting Edge, one of the more dangerous moves in proffesional wrestling. Unfortunately for Brandon Blade, this was obviously NOT his lucky day. As the referee chuckled about Winters' impending doom, Donaven spun around, catching Brandon Blade's legs on his shoulders. The arena was stunned. Donaven Winters was in full control. Winters ran forward and got to the turnbuckle. He then executed a brutal powerbomb that caused Brandon Blade to hit the back of his head on each turnbuckle before he finally hit the mat. Winters then quickly jumped onto the third turnbuckle and executed an easy but picture-esque moonsault, landing squarely on Blade, who was out cold from the three horrible blows. The ref, who could not believe his eyes, went to the mat and methodically- slowly- checked for infringements before he began a lathargic count. One........ Two......... 
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