Dave wastes no time and hits the Stamp of Authority on Blade. Dave leans against the ropes, barely able to stand after that move. He stumbles away from the ropes towards Blade. He stands over him and is about to pin him, but Blade suddenly rolls over. He grabs at Dave's legs and begins to pull himself up. Dave can not believe it. He helps Blade onto his feet and stares him in the eye. Blade flips Dave off and spits one in his eye. Dave wipes the loogie off his face and and lifts Blade onto his shoulders. Stamp of Authority for a second time. The cover. 1... 2... 3.
Harrys: Here is your winner, and still EurAsian champion, Big Dave!
Dave stands over Blade as the ref raise his arm. He looks down at Blade then goes to get his EurAsian title belt. He holds it up for the audience. Dave quickly exits out of the ring. The ref checks on Blade, who begins to roll over and struggle to his feet. Dave gets to the top of the ramp and looks back at the ring. Blade has crawled to the ropes and uses them to barely get onto his feet. He looks up at Dave, who cannot believe that Blade is even standing.
As the titantron shows the video package for the next match, Blade is helped out of the ring by the referee. They walk slowly up the ramp and backstage, where the WZCW physician is waiting for Blade.
Doctor:
Blade, we’re going need to take a look at you.
Blade:
No... Big Dave... I have to find him...
Doctor:
Dave is gone, Blade. Now sit down, you probably have a concussion. You might even have some internal bleeding, you have to let me check out your condition.
Blade, looking angry but still dazed slowly sits down as the doctor starts to do simple tests on Blade.
Blade:
This... ISN’T OVER!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rebecca Serra is standing by with Blade in his locker room. He has a bandage around his head and his ribs are taped up, but his face still looks confident and determined.
Rebecca:
Blade, Big Dave put you down with a Stamp of Authority, but you refused to stay down, even going as far as spitting in his face. What made you do some so... Well, stupid?
Blade lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his sore ribs for a moment.
Blade:
Big Dave thought he was so untouchable and powerful going into Apocalypse, but I brought him down a peg or two. He hit me with his finisher, a move that has put the best in WZCW down, and I got right up. I was not going to let him enjoy his win, I was going to be defiant and piss him off until the very end, because that’s what he deserved. He beat me worse than I’ve been beaten up in my life, but I was not going to stay down for him while I was still conscious. I lost, but there’s no way in hell this is over. I saw the look on Dave’s face after I got up when the match was over, something no one has ever seen in Dave’s eyes before.... Fear. Each time we meet, I come closer and closer to beating him, and the next time we inevitably meet, I am finally going to keep him down. For good.
Rebecca:
What about the EurAsian title?
Blade:
It will still be mine eventually. I am going to let it come to me. Fate always finds a way.
There’s an awkward silence as Rebecca decides whether or not to continue.
Rebecca:
Ummm... Right. And this week you’ve got Phoenix, who’s just come off a big win over his nemesis Garth Black in a Last Man Standing match. Your thoughts?
Blade smirks.
Blade:
I don’t know who Phoenix is kidding, I really don’t. See, I heard him talk about how I’ll be hurt. Or at least, I think that was the gist, it started getting kind of emo near the end. But he is just as hurt, just as sore as I am. He was in a Last Man Standing match, the most brutal match in the world. Sure, he came out on top, but no one comes out of a match like that without pain coursing through their body.
Blade leans forward for his cigarettes, wincing in pain as he does so. He takes one out and lights it up, exhaling the smoke, which becomes illuminated by the light above.
Blade:
Phoenix thinks I’m upset, frustrated, depressed about not winning the belt... Wow, he clearly didn’t do his research, did he? He clearly knows nothing about me. Cause right now, I’m more determined than ever to win that title. But I’ll admit, I’m slightly hypocritical here. I didn’t do my research on him either, because I had no idea he could read.
Rebecca stifles a laugh as Blade takes a long drag from his cigarette before continuing.
Blade:
Alas, it turns out he can read. And not just Spot the Dog, he reads big boy books too, which is a funny coincidence, because I happen to have been writing a book myself over the last few days.
Blade reaches under the table and pulls out a few sheets of A4 paper, written on by Blade. The cover has the words:
Meh: The Phoenix Story.
Blade:
Never has there been a more apt title for a book, I think. But I’ve been working on this “book” for a few days now, and I thought I might read you some of my favourite passages. What do you think, Becky?
Rebecca:
Well, Uhh...
Blade:
Excellent! Now, I’ll start with a passage from chapter 8, about your Apocalypse match with Black.
Blade mockingly clears his throat.
Blade:
“The referee finally reached ten, and Garth could not get up to answer the count. After the post-match chair smashing of Garth’s face, Phoenix smiled out of relief. And the crowd replied with a shrug of utter indifference. Garth had been kicking Phoenix’s ass up and down WZCW for the last 3 months. Finally Phoenix had gotten his win, but it was a cheap one so nobody cared that much.”
Blade lowers the “book”
Blade:
I think that’s a very fair assessment of the events. This author is an intelligent man.
Rebecca rolls her eyes
Rebecca:
Aren’t you the author?
Blade:
Exactly. Now, let me read you my very favourite passage from the book. Chapter 9, entitled Ascension 17. “Blade kicked Phoenix in the stomach, hooked his arms, and delivered a devastating Halo to Phoenix. Blade then pinned Phoenix in the middle of the ring, 1... 2... 3, before celebrating the win with his billions of fans.”
Blade lowers the book again, smirking before taking the last drag off his cigarette and flicking it into the ashtray.
Blade:
See, Phoenix you think the Art of War will tell you what you need to know about wrestling and our match? No. See, those two sentences are all you need to know, my friend. That’s how the story that is our match ends. Me, standing tall, and you on the mat, crushed with your emo fringe and naive dreams of title glory. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Becky, I have to finish off writing the chapter about Phoenix’s teenage years. According to very reliable source, he wet his bed until he was 17. But you’ll just have to read all about it when the fine publication is released...
Rebecca slowly gets up and leaves, shaking her head.
