Wrestling

Under normal circumstances, it took a wrestler about fifteen to twenty seconds to walk that length, soaking in the adoration or the hatred of the audience, playing to the camera, and setting the pace for the match.

Right now, that twenty feet evaporated in the blink of an eye.

Ray Jr. and Renji Okada sprinted. The heavy, thunderous hammering of Okada’s boots and the sharp, squeaking traction of Ray’s white sneakers against the steel ramp created a syncopated rhythm. They moved with terrifying synchronicity, two entirely different generations and styles of wrestling bound together by a singular objective.

Down at the halfway area, the panic was palpable.

"Run! Run!" Moonie shrieked, his voice cracking. He dropped the dented steel chair, the metal clattering uselessly against the ramp.

Jasun didn’t need to be told twice. He spun around, his neon yellow tassels whipping through the air, and scrambled frantically toward the ring apron. There was no grace in his movement. He practically dove under the bottom rope, his elbows scraping against the canvas, desperate to put the ropes between himself and the two forces of nature charging down the aisle.

Moonie followed right on his partner’s heels, sliding into the ring on his stomach and scrambling backward like a cornered animal.

Inside the ropes, the situation was already a mess. The medical attendants and referees were huddled over Tyler Briggs. The rookie cruiserweight was completely incapacitated, his ribs bruised and his spine battered from the repeated chair shots.

"Move him! Move him now!" the senior medical official barked in Japanese, grabbing Briggs by the shoulders.

The medics didn’t wait for a stretcher, they didn’t have the time. Sensing the impending collision, they grabbed Briggs by his armpits and the waistband of his aerodynamic blue tights. They unceremoniously dragged the half-conscious rookie across the mat, pulling him under the bottom rope on the far side of the ring just as the Tag Team Champions retreated into the center.

[Braxton: The medics are pulling Briggs to safety. They know what’s coming!]

[Tanaka: Sun and Moon have nowhere to run. They retreated into the worst possible place. They’ll soon be locked inside a cage with two of the best.]

Ray Jr. reached the end of the steel ramp first. He didn’t bother with the steel ring steps. He didn’t slow his momentum down to carefully step up onto the apron. He utilized his lucha libre instincts, diving headfirst and sliding smoothly under the bottom rope. He popped up to his feet in a fraction of a second, his fists clenched, his heart racing under his plain t-shirt.

A heartbeat later, Okada arrived. The World Heavyweight Champion didn’t slide. He grabbed the rope with both of his hands and vaulted his two-hundred-and-forty-pound frame completely over it in a terrifying display of raw athletic power. He landed flat on his boots, the impact almost shaking the entire ring.

Jasun and Moonie were trapped in the dead center of the ring.

The Grand Auditorium was no longer just loud, it was deafening. The sound transcended cheers or boos. It was a primal, bloodthirsty roar, a massive wave of human adrenaline crashing down on the squared circle.

Ray and Okada didn’t pause to pose. They didn’t look at each other to coordinate. They simply attacked.

All hell broke loose.

Okada lunged at Jasun, his massive hand clamping around the tag champion’s throat. Jasun let out a strangled gasp, his eyes bulging as Okada effortlessly hoisted him off his feet and hurled him violently into the nearest turnbuckle. The impact rattled the ring post. Before Jasun could even bounce off the pads, Okada was on him.

The champion unleashed a blistering barrage of knife-edge chops to Jasun’s chest.

Smack.

The sound cracked over the arena microphones. Jasun’s bare chest instantly turned a violent shade of crimson.

Smack.

Jasun crumpled to his knees, throwing his arms up in a futile attempt to block the onslaught. Okada swatted the defensive arms away and delivered a third chop, so stiff and unforgiving that it flipped Jasun upside down, leaving him hanging precariously over the bottom rope.

On the opposite side of the ring, Ray Jr. had collided with Moonie.

Moonie tried to throw a desperate right hook, but Ray’s reflexes were simply too sharp. Ray ducked under the swinging arm, grabbed a fistful of Moonie’s hair, and drove his knee squarely into Moonie’s midsection. The air rushed out of the tag champion’s lungs in a loud hiss.

Ray didn’t give him a millimeter of breathing room. The numbness in his own right elbow and the agonizing stiffness in his neck were completely buried beneath a white-hot surge of adrenaline. He only needed to remember the utter lack of respect shown to Briggs.

Ray grabbed Moonie by the back of the neck and unleashed a flurry of rapid-fire forearms.

Left, right, left, right.

The strikes were a blur of motion, relentless and precise, driving Moonie backward step by step until his spine collided with the turnbuckle opposite to where Okada was dismantling Jasun.

[Braxton: Total chaos! The referees have completely abandoned the ring.]

[Tanaka: There is no match to officiate, Braxton. But we a wish this was, because Ray Jr. and Okada are systematically taking apart the Tag Team Champions!]

Moonie tried to cover his face, sinking into the corner. Ray stepped back, creating just enough distance, and leaped into the air. He drove a brutal running knee strike directly into Moonie’s jaw. The silver-clad wrestler’s head snapped back against the top turnbuckle pad, his eyes rolling back into his skull.

But Sun and Moon were the reigning Tag Team Champions for a reason. They were survivors. They knew how to weather a storm and exploit the tiniest crack in an opponent’s defense.

Across the ring, Jasun managed to rake his fingernails across Okada’s eyes.

The champion flinched, taking a half-step backward and raising a hand to his face. It was only a momentary lapse, but it was all Jasun needed. The neon-yellow-clad wrestler scrambled out of the corner, gasping for air, and threw a desperate, wild lariat aimed at Okada’s neck.

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