If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The match didn't start with a lock up. It started with a collision. Jericho charged across the ring, tackling Punk into the corner. He unleashed a flurry of chops and punches, screaming with every strike. Chop! Punch! Chop! Punch!
"Jericho is fighting for his life!" Cole yelled. "Look at the aggression!"
"He has no choice!" Lawler added. "He sees the sword hanging over his head!"
Punk covered up, absorbing the blows before shoving Jericho back. Punk responded with a stiff roundhouse kick to the ribs that echoed through the arena. Jericho grunted but didn't go down. He caught Punk's next kick, swept the leg, and tried immediately for the Walls of Jericho!
"Going for it early!" Striker shouted. "He wants to end this now!"
Punk scrambled, kicking Jericho off before he could turn him over. Both men popped up to their feet, staring at each other. The crowd was electric.
"This is wrestling!" chants began to ripple through the lower bowl.
They locked up again, and this time it was a technical masterpiece. Punk transitioned into a side headlock, Jericho countered into a top wristlock. Punk rolled through, reversing the pressure, wringing the arm. Jericho kipped up, reversing into a hammerlock. It was fluid, fast, and fierce.
"You are watching two of the absolute best in the world," Cole admitted. "Regardless of their alignments, you have to respect the skill."
"Skill is great, Michael," JBL grumbled, "but skill doesn't keep you in the Undisputed System. Results do. Jericho needs to stop playing chess and start playing executioner. Punk is a criminal! Treat him like one!"
The match spilled to the outside. Punk threw Jericho over the top rope. As Jericho landed, Gallows and Mercury took a menacing step forward. Jericho froze, eyes darting between them.
"Back off!" the referee shouted from the ring.
Punk used the distraction to launch himself through the ropes, Suicide Dive!
He crashed into Jericho, sending him careening into the barricade. Punk roared, high fiving Mercury before throwing Jericho back into the ring.
Punk climbed the top rope. He pointed to the sky, a mockery of the System's salute. He leapt, Diving Crossbody!
Jericho rolled through!
ONE! TWO!
Punk kicked out.
Jericho was up first. He hit a running bulldog. He went for the Lionsault. He hit the ropes, sprang off the middle rope—
Punk got the knees up!
Jericho crashed ribs first onto Punk's knees. He writhed in pain, clutching his midsection.
"Counter wrestling at its finest!" Striker noted. "Punk scouted the Lionsault!"
Punk grabbed Jericho, pulling him into a Koji Clutch in the center of the ring. Jericho screamed, his hand hovering over the mat.
"Don't tap, Chris!" JBL pleaded. "If you tap, it's over! Think about your career! Think about Sandro!"
Jericho fought. He clawed at Punk's face, finally reaching the ropes with his foot. The referee broke the hold.
The match entered a second gear. Both men were tired, sweat pouring off them. They stood in the center of the ring, trading stiff forearms.
SMACK. (Boo!)
SMACK. (Yay!)
SMACK. (Boo!)
SMACK. (Yay!)
Punk gained the upper hand with a spinning backfist, followed by a high knee in the corner. He went for the bulldog, but Jericho shoved him off. Punk came back, springing off the ropes for a clothesline—
Jericho caught him! CODEBREAKER!
Out of nowhere!
The crowd exploded. Jericho crawled into the cover, hooking the leg deep.
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
NO! Punk got a shoulder up at the very last millisecond!
Jericho sat up, eyes wide with panic. He looked at the TitanTron, as if checking to see if Sandro had seen the near fall.
"He had him!" Lawler shouted. "That was the Codebreaker! Punk is unconscious!"
"He needs to stay on him!" JBL yelled. "Don't look at the screen, you idiot! Look at your opponent!"
Jericho dragged Punk to the center of the ring. He signaled for the end. He was going for the Walls of Jericho again. He stepped over Punk.
But Gallows hopped up on the apron.
Jericho released the hold, swinging at Gallows. Gallows dropped down, avoiding the blow.
Jericho turned around, right into a roundhouse kick from Punk to the side of the head!
Punk hoisted Jericho up on his shoulders. GTS!
"Goodnight!" Cole screamed.
Punk threw the knee.
Jericho caught the knee! He caught it mid air! He spun Punk around, tripping him.
WALLS OF JERICHO!
He turned him over! He locked it in! Deep in the center of the ring! The Liontamer version, knee in the back of the neck!
"He's got him!" Striker screamed. "Punk has nowhere to go!"
Punk screamed in agony, reaching for ropes that were miles away. Jericho sat back, wrenching the neck, screaming, "ASK HIM! ASK HIM!"
Gallows and Mercury looked frantic on the outside. Mercury tried to slide a chair in, but the referee caught him and kicked it away.
"Tap! Tap! Tap!" the crowd chanted.
Punk's hand hovered. He was fading. The pain was etched on his face.
Jericho looked up at the Tron again, screaming, "ARE YOU WATCHING?! ARE YOU WATCHING?!"
"Focus, Chris!" JBL begged. "Snap the neck!"
Punk, using every ounce of straight edge discipline, began to crawl. Inch by inch. Dragging Jericho's weight with him. The crowd roared with every inch gained.
He reached out... his fingertips brushed the bottom rope.
Jericho pulled him back to the center!
But the momentary release of pressure allowed Punk to roll through, pulling Jericho into a small package pin!
ONE!
TWO!
Jericho kicked out!
Both men scrambled up. Punk hit a scoop slam. He climbed the top rope.
"Randy Savage elbow!" Cole called it.
Punk flew through the air. Elbow Drop! perfectly executed right to the heart.
Punk didn't cover. He crawled to the corner, calling for the GTS again. He was going to put the nail in the coffin.
He waited for Jericho to rise. Jericho stumbled up, looking like a man in a daze.
Punk lifted him. GTS.
This time, it connected. Jericho's head snapped back, sweat flying. He collapsed to the mat like a sack of bricks.
Punk fell on top of him for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
The referee's hand stopped inches from the mat.
Punk looked up. The referee was being pulled out of the ring!
By who?
It wasn't Gallows. It wasn't Mercury.
The camera panned down.
It was Heyman who had sweats all over his face.
Heyman had sprinted from the back! He had the referee by the ankle!
"Heyman!" Cole shouted. "What is he doing out here?!"
"He's saving the match!" JBL roared. "He's saving the family!"
Punk looked at Heyman with murderous intent. Gallows and Mercury advanced on Heyman, backing him up the ramp. Heyman held his hands up, looking terrified but calculating.
Punk turned back to Jericho—
LOW BLOW!
Jericho, unseen by the referee who was still yelling at Heyman, had kicked Punk squarely between the legs!
"A low blow!" Lawler cried. "Jericho is desperate!"
"It's called survival, King!" JBL laughed. "Eye for an eye! Punk did it first!"
Jericho rolled Punk up. A schoolboy pin. He grabbed the tights!
The referee slid back in, counting fast.
ONE!
TWO!
Punk kicked out!
"He kicked out of a low blow!" Striker gasped. "This match is insane!"
Both men lay flat on their backs, the crowd in a frenzy. They lay on the canvas, chests heaving, as the referee began his count.
The camera cut to the backstage area again. Sandro hadn't moved. He was still leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the screen. The rest of the Undisputed System looked tense, their earlier confidence replaced by a nervous energy. They knew the script. They knew the consequences.
In the ring, the match continued, transforming into a grueling war of attrition that would be talked about for years to come.
Jericho was the first to stir, crawling toward the ropes. Heyman, now positioned at ringside near Jericho's corner, was screaming instructions, his face glistening with sweat.
"Get up, Chris! Get up!" Heyman shouted, banging on the canvas apron. "Do not let him breathe! Finish him!"
Jericho stumbled to his feet, pulling Punk up by his hair. He whipped Punk into the corner and charged. Punk moved! Jericho ate the turnbuckle. Punk rolled backward, catching Jericho with a swinging neckbreaker.
Both men were down again.
"This is what the World Heavyweight Championship is all about," Cole said, his voice hoarse. "Two men willing to do anything, legal or illegal, to leave Miami as the champion."
"And for Jericho, it's not just about the title," Striker added darkly. "It's about his livelihood. It's about his existence in this company."
Punk slowly climbed the top rope, signaling for the elbow drop again. But Jericho, fueled by sheer panic, sprinted up the turnbuckles. He caught Punk with a chop that echoed through the arena. He hooked the arms.
"Superplex!" Lawler shouted.
"No! Look at the positioning!" JBL yelled. "He wants the Walls from the top!"
Jericho tried to turn Punk over on the top rope, but Punk fought back, headbutting Jericho not once, not twice, but three times. Jericho fell backward, crashing to the mat. Punk steadied himself. He looked at the crowd, soaked in the mixed reaction, and then launched.
Diving Elbow Drop!
Perfect execution. Right to the heart.
ONE!
TWO!
NO!
Jericho kicked out at 2.9!
"How?!" Cole screamed. "How is Jericho still in this?"
"Fear," JBL answered solemnly. "Fear is a powerful motivator, Michael. He knows what's waiting for him if the referee's hand hits three."
Punk couldn't believe it. He sat up, frustration etched on his face. He called for the end. He pulled down his knee pad, exposing the joint. He waited for Jericho to rise.
"Go to Sleep!" the crowd chanted.
Jericho stumbled up. Punk hoisted him. GTS!
No! Jericho caught the knee again! He spun Punk around. He went for the Walls!
Punk countered! He rolled through, pulling Jericho into a small package!
ONE! TWO!
Jericho kicked out!
As they scrambled up, Jericho hit the ropes. Punk hit the ropes. They collided in the center with a double clothesline. Both men crashed down.
"This is an instant classic!" Striker said. "Neither man will yield!"
Heyman was frantic now. He climbed onto the apron, waving his arms. The referee rushed over, shouting at him to get down. Heyman argued back, creating a diversion.
"Heyman is buying time!" JBL cheered. "Smart strategy!"
Jericho saw the opening. He grabbed the World Title belt that was lying near the timekeeper's area, wait, no, he couldn't reach it. He grabbed a water bottle instead? No, he grabbed the referee's shirt, pulling him away from Heyman.
"Focus on the match!" Jericho screamed at the ref, his eyes wild. Even he knew he couldn't rely on Heyman's tricks forever.
Punk was up. He caught Jericho with a roundhouse kick to the back of the head. Jericho staggered, falling into the ropes. Punk charged for a clothesline, but Jericho ducked, and Punk went over the top rope to the floor!
Jericho didn't wait. He went to the corner. SpringboardMoonsault to the outside! He took out Punk, but he clipped his own knee on the barricade.
"High risk, high reward!" Cole shouted. "But at what cost?"
Jericho dragged Punk back into the ring. He was limping. He knew the clock was ticking. He set Punk up. He waited.
"Codebreaker!" Lawler anticipated.
Punk got to his feet. Jericho leaped. Codebreaker!
He hit it! Both knees to the face!
But Punk didn't fall backward! He stumbled, catching the ropes to stay on his feet. Jericho hit the mat hard on his back.
Jericho scrambled up, shocked. He grabbed Punk, pulling him to the center. He tried for a second Codebreaker.
He jumped.
Punk caught him!
"He caught him mid air!" Striker screamed.
Punk held Jericho's legs. He threw him down. He locked the arms.
ANACONDA VISE!
He locked it in! Center of the ring!
Jericho screamed. The pain was immediate. Punk wrenched back, bridging his hips to add pressure.
"He's got it locked in deep!" Cole yelled. "Jericho has nowhere to go!"
"Don't tap!" JBL begged, almost standing on the announce table. "Crawl, Chris! Crawl to the ropes! Think about the Undisputed System! Think about Sandro!"
Jericho's eyes bulged. He reached out, his fingers clawing at the canvas. He saw the ropes. They were inches away. He saw Heyman screaming at him. He saw the TitanTron.
He dragged himself forward. One inch. Two inches.
Punk rolled! He rolled Jericho away from the ropes, back to the dead center of the ring, tightening the hold!
"No!" JBL cried. "No!"
Jericho had nothing left. The arm was about to snap. The lungs were burning. The fear of Sandro was outweighed by the immediate, blinding pain of the submission. He tried to fight it. But the darkness was closing in.
Jericho tapped.
Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
DING! DING! DING!
The bell rang. The sound was like a guillotine dropping.
"It's over!" Cole shouted. "Punk retains! Punk retains! And Chris Jericho has failed!"
"Oh my God," Lawler whispered. "It's over."
"No..." JBL whispered, sinking into his chair. "No, no, no... you foolish man. You foolish, foolish man."
Roberts' voice boomed over the sound system. "Here is your winner... and STILL World Heavyweight Champion... CM PUNK!"
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: WWE - RAW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: The Undisputed System
Championships History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA X Division Champion, 1x WWE United States Champion, & 1x WWE Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, & PWI Top 500 (No.1)
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0