Black Pyramid Wrestling Season 2, Episode 2 (9/15/21)

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Bruce Buffer: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!

"Money Machine" by 100 Gecs damn near blows out the speakers as Jason Wilds saunters out from behind the curtain, flanked only by Yung Sheldon.

Bruce Buffer: Introducing first, standing six feet, one inch tall and weighing in tonight at one hundred, sixty pounds. Fighting out of Henderson, Nevada: Jason "The King of South Las Vegas Boulevard" Wilds!

The pair make their way down the aisle, Yung Sheldon brandishing a pocket knife while Jason tries to ham it up for the audience, who just boo him in response as he enters the ring.

Simon Wexler: I've been told that due to a medical emergency, Lil Hydroxiquine was not able to make it to tonight's show. Jason looks primed and ready to prove last week was a fluke, and I think I like his odds!

"Cry Little Sister" by Gerard McCann hits the speakers as "Money Machine" fades out. Corey Bull and the large, Minotaur-esque thing he calls Lockhart appear in the aisle.

Simon Wexler: You know, maybe I should just shut up forever.

Bruce Buffer: And his opponent, accompanied to the ring by "The Bastard Warlord" Corey Bull. Standing eight feet — is that right? — eight feet, two inches tall and weighing in tonight at five hundred, thirty-seven pounds! Lockhart!

The behemoths lumber their way down the aisle, as Jason's eyes go wide with shock as the realization of just what he's fighting dawns on him. Lockhart scales the ring steps and enters the ring, seeming to buckle and groan with each step he takes.

Simon Wexler: Look, I'll be honest. I don't have to say anything about this thing, you can probably already figure out how this one's gonna go.

The bell rings and Jason just stands in his corner in awe of the mastodon in front of him. Lockhart slowly makes his way out of his corner and approaches the frozen Jason Wilds. One of his large arms shoot out, hand wrapping around Jason's neck. Like a ragdoll, he rips Jason off the canvas, tossing him overhead. Jason lands on the mat in a heap, skidding across the canvas.

Simon Wexler: I think rug burn's gonna be the least of his problems.

Jason gingerly pushes himself up to his feet as Lockhart turns to face him. He takes off in a dead sprint and launches himself at Lockhart, only to get plucked out of mid-air with minimal effort on the monster's part.

Simon Wexler: What the fuck are you thinkin', kid?!

Once more, Lockhart hoists the trapped Jason up before dropping him down hard, spine first across his knee. Jason bounces off of Lockhart's knee like a basketball before hitting the back of his head hard on the mat.

Lockhart shakes his head and plucks Jason up once more. Slowly backing away from the smaller Jason Wilds, Lockhart builds up some kind of moving start before rearranging Jason's facial features with a wicked Superman Punch!

Simon Wexler: Broseidon Punch from Lockhart!

He places one foot on Jason Wilds' chest as the ref drops to count.

ONE!

TWO!

NO! Looking out at the disapproval from Corey Bull at ringside, Lockhart lifts his foot off of Jason, shaking his head. He peels Jason off the canvas once again, forcing Jason's head between his thighs.

He lifts Jason up before slamming him down, dropping to his own knees, with a devastating powerbomb! Jason's eyes almost bulge out of his skull as Lockhart drives his own head into Wilds' ribs on the landing.

Lockhart then returns his foot to the broken Wilds' chest.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Bruce Buffer: And your winner, by pinfall: LOCKHART!

"Cry Little Sister" hits the speakers once more as Lockhart once again picks Jason back up, hoisting him in a military press before launching him from the ring into the crowd. Yung Sheldon scurries over the guardrail after his fallen ally.

Simon Wexler: This, could be a problem.

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Bruce Buffer: The following contest is set for one fall and is a singles match!

“Mad Pierrot” – 9mm Parabellum Bullet plays and out comes Hachiman for his first singles match in Black Pyramid Wrestling.

Bruce Buffer: Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred, forty-five pounds. From the Forgotten Realm of the Grand Canyon. HACHIMAN!

Hachiman makes his way down to the ring, focused more on the ring itself than his surroundings. “Endzeit” by Heaven Shall Burn enters the ears of those in attendance. As the guitar and screams blare through the speakers, the fans call out in unison:

“It’s Such A Long Way Down”

From the curtain emerges Howard Black in a black hooded sweatshirt and black wrestling pants. White lions decorate the sides of his legs - a silver crucifix hangs from his neck.

Bruce Buffer: And his opponent, weighing in at two hundred, fifteen pounds. From Lincoln, Nebraska. The Lost Boy… HOWARD BLACK!

Howard makes his way down the ramp, his eyes focused on the ring and his attention largely removed from the roar of the crowd around him. At the base of the ring, he looks up and stares into the center of the squared circle. A moment of contemplation passes before he turns and crosses to the stairs, climbing them and entering the ring between the middle and top rope.

Simon Wexler: I can’t believe my eyes! Then again… I rarely believe what happens here at Black Pyramid Wrestling!

Once inside, he sweeps his hood from his head and crosses the mat to the far turnbuckle. He climbs to the second rope and looks over the crowd, his face stern and stoic. With deliberate purpose, he raises the title above his head and takes a moment to absorb the crowd reaction. Dropping back to the mat, he crosses to his corner and removes his sweatshirt and crucifix necklace, which he gives a kiss before carefully storing it away. Turning back to the ring, he waits for the match to begin, leaning back in repose until suddenly the opening bell tolls.

Simon Wexler: Let's fuckin' goooooo!!!!!

Black charges toward Hachiman, tackling him to the mat and laying down some heavy hammers. He gives a moment of space and Hachiman pushes him away, then escapes under the bottom rope. Black wastes no time, rushing after him. He chases Hachiman around the outside and both slide back into the ring. Hachiman ducks a clothesline, then scoops slams Black when he turns around. Hachiman follows up with an elbow, then another, then another, then another.

Simon Wexler: How many elbow drops is he going to drop?!

Hachiman drops nearly ten before he's exhausted and he covers Black.

ONE!

TWO!!

KICKOUT!!!

Blown up, Hachiman takes his time getting up, then drags Black off of the mat. He rams him into the nearest corner, then drives his shoulder into Black's gut. He grabs Black's arm and whips him out of the corner, then immediately back into the corner with authority. Black crashes so hard into the corner that he then crashes to the mat.

Simon Wexler: I had no idea Hachiman possessed that kind of power!

Hachiman rolls Black over and covers him.

ONE!

TWO!!

KICKOUT!!!

Hachiman doesn't look happy as he drags Black off of the mat. Black surprises him with a high impact clubbing blow to the side of the head.

Simon Wexler: MOLLYWHOP OUTTA NOWHERE!

Hachiman staggers back and Black is quick to lock in, then deliver a Prussian Leg Sweep. Upon impact, Black rolls back to his feet and he sits Hachiman up, then hits the ropes and connects with a running knee to the back of the head. Hachiman crumbles to the mat and Black covers him.

ONE!

TWO!!

THR--KICKOUT!!!

Black gets up and we see a closeup of Hachiman's face.

Simon Wexler: Look at his eyes! Lights are on but nobody's home!

Black catches his breath when suddenly, Hachiman sits up and stares forward. He nods his head, as if getting instruction from his great grandfather's ghost. He pushes up to his feet and Black can't believe his eyes. The men come face to face and Black lights him up with a powerful forearm… that does no damage. With his eyes still glazed, Hachiman nails Black with a Mongolian Chop followed by a headbutt.

Simon Wexler: THIRD EYE TRAUMA!

Black is rocked. Hachiman pulls him into a tilt-a-whirl but Black lands on his feet, then delivers a sit-out spinning arm-trap dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane.

Simon Wexler: TREE OF NO CARES!

He transitions it straight into a Kimura Lock. He wrenches it in and Hachiman writhes in pain, trying to free himself. He twists Hachiman's arm in such a way that he has no choice but to tap.

Simon Wexler: He's done it!

The final bell tolls.

Bruce Buffer: The winner of this match as a result of submission… The Lost Boy… HOWARD BLACK!

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Bruce Buffer: The following contest is set for one fall and it is a tag team match!

"Major Tom (Coming Home)" by Shiny Toy Guns plays and Beyond walks out from backstage.

Bruce Buffer: Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and seven pounds… BEYOND!

Tetris by DJ Dahi plays through the PA system. L Verez slowly steps to the stage, joining her partner. Right before the beat drops, L hits a 360° spin, dropping along with the bass.

Bruce Buffer: And his partner, working in at one hundred and twenty-five pounds… she is "not of this world,"... L VEEEREEEZ!!

L and Beyond walk down the ramp together, then enter the ring. "Священная война" hits the speakers and the trio of Irina Ivanova, Magnus, and Viktor Romanov come out from behind the curtain.

Simon Wexler: Oh.

Bruce Buffer: And their opponents, accompanied to the ring by Viktor Romanov. "The Red Angel" Irina Ivanova and "The Siberian Lion" Magnus: Krasnaya Sila!

The trio make their way to the ring with little regard for the jeers from the fans. Ivanova and Magnus enter the ring while Romanov takes his spot at ringside, watching intently.

Simon Wexler: They were victorious last week… but their opponents this week look better than Order of Chaos… in many… many ways.

With all competitors ready to rumble, the referee insists that one member of each team go to the apron so that match can begin, but instead they charge at each other and start brawling.

Simon Wexler: Well that was unexpected!

L battles Irina back to a corner while Beyond battles Magnus to the opposite corner. They get in enough body shots to weaken their opponents before looking back and nodding at each other. L whips Irina out, and Beyond whips Magnus out. They narrowly dodge each other and continue full speed to the corners, simultaneously spearing their opponents back into the corners.

Simon Wexler: Krasnaya Sila is v ogne!!

Romanov claps for his team from ringside. Magnus stands L up in the corner and he wraps her arms around the top rope, then delivers a sickeningly stiff headbutt. He shouts at her in Russian as Irina brings Beyond to the middle of the ring. Magnus and Irina then deliver a double superkick to Beyond.

Simon Wexler: THE REVOLUTION!

Beyond hits the mat and Irina locks in a camel clutch, while Magnus shouts Soviet propaganda at L, who staggers out of the corner as Beyond taps out. The final bell tolls and L falls to the mat.

Bruce Buffer: The winners of this match as a result of submission… KRASNAYA SILA!

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Bruce Buffer: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is the main event of the evening!

Mariachi music mixed some drum beats and guitar plucking kicks up as out from behind the curtain steps Lázaro wearing a golden jaguar like warrior lucha mask, a black long sleeveless jacket, gold trunks, and white boots.

Bruce Buffer: Introducing first, standing five feet, eleven inches tall and weighing in tonight at one hundred, ninety-eight pounds. Fighting out of Guanajuato City, Mexico, "The Golden Idol" Lázaro Vicente!

Lázaro stands in the center of the aisle and crosses his heart before throwing his two index fingers to the sky as he makes his way to the ring. Lázaro slaps a few hands before stopping at the stairs, he looks back and notices a small boy with his father, he nods and offers his mask to the boy, who lets him put it on him. The dad gives Lázaro a thumbs up before Lázaro turns back to the ring to ascend the top rope where he looks out to the surrounding crowd of fans. He points both index fingers up to the sky before leaping and rolling through as he hits the mat. He hits the ropes before finding his way to his corner, adjusting his wrist tape and giving his coat to one of the ring helpers.

Simon Wexler: Vicente made a big splash last week, winning the Ashes of Las Vegas match that kicked off our new season — and it looks like he's being rewarded in kind.

Vicente's music fades, replaced by "Pretend" by nothing, nowhere. Mundo Kindo emerges from behind the curtain.

Bruce Buffer: And his opponent, standing five feet, eleven inches and weighing in tonight at one hundred, eighty-seven pounds. Fighting out of another version of Tokyo, Japan, MUNDO KINDO!

Kindo is all business as he makes his way down the aisle, his focus squarely on Vicente as he ascends the ring stairs and steps between the ropes.

Simon Wexler: Kindo might've proved last week that his win over Von Brandt at our first season finale wasn't a fluke, but this week he's got nowhere to hide and an opponent with no distractions!

Buffer exits the ring, and the referee calls for the bell.

The bell rings and both men step out of their respective corners, eyeing the other suspiciously. In the center of the ring, the two lock up in a collar and elbow tie up. Vicente, the slightly heavier of the two, quickly gets the upper hand, cinching in a side headlock.

Simon Wexler: Please tell me this isn't gonna be one of those grapple fests Mia would've creamed herself over.

Vicente wrenches the headlock and Kindo clenches his fist for a moment to alleviate the pressure. Kindo presses his hands into the small of Vicente's back and shoves him off, into the ropes.

Kindo hits the mat and Vicente jumps over him on the rebound, hitting the ropes once more. On the second rebound, Kindo catches Vicente hard in the throat with a clothesline. Vicente hits the mat coughing, trying to regain his breath.

Simon Wexler: Looked kinda fucky, but it definitely worked!

Vicente rises to a seated position but Kindo drags him up the rest of the way, measuring his shot before unleashing with a brutal chop that reverberates throughout the facsimile of the Luxor pyramid! Vicente stumbles back, before shaking his head and charging forward with a forearm smash that catches Kindo right in the mask.

Now, it's Kindo's turn to stumble, before coming back in with another chop. And another forearm from Vicente. And back. And forth. They go.

Simon Wexler: Oh hell yeah this is the shit we love to see. Just a goddamn slugfest.

Kindo rears back for another chop but Vicente beats him to it, lifting a knee into his midsection that doubles Kindo over. Vicente cinches in a front facelock and throws Kindo's arm around his neck, lifting him up and dropping him quickly with a snap suplex.

Vicente floats over, dragging Kindo back to his feet and repeating the process with a second snap suplex. He floats over a third time, but as he goes to lift Kindo, Kindo blocks it. Vicente tries to lift him a second time, but Kindo blocks it again. Frustrated, Vicente drills Kindo in the ribs with a punch before hoisting him up and completing the Three Amigos!

Simon Wexler: I thought we were about to see a change in momentum, but that was nipped in the bud!

Vicente wastes no time in floating over for the cover.

ONE!

TW— KICKOUT!

Simon Wexler: This is why you always hook the leg!

Vicente hops back to his feet, peeling Kindo off the canvas. Kindo, however, springs to life, quickly rolling his opponent up with a school boy cover!

ONE!


TWO!


KICKOUT!

Vicente rolls through his kickout and pops back to his feet once more, eyes wide with a mix of shock and rage.

Simon Wexler: Kindo almost stole one there! All things considered, we probably should've seen that one coming.

Vicente whips Kindo into the corner and lines up his shot, exploding forward hoping to catch Kindo with a running high knee. But Kindo sidesteps at the last possible moment and Vicente crashes knee first into the turnbuckles. He collapses to the canvas, holding his wounded knee as Kindo stands over him.

Kindo shakes his head before delivering a stomp right on the knee that just collided with the corner. Vicente grimaces and pounds the mat, before Kindo reaches down and pulls him to his feet by his hair.

The official attempts to admonish Kindo but Kindo barely acknowledges the warning as he backs Vicente into the corner, rearing back and once again blasting him across his bruised chest with another huge chop!

Simon Wexler: That's gonna leave a welt. Yikes.

Vicente stumbles out of the corner, holding his chest, and catches a boot right in the gut that doubles him over. Kindo follows up with a front facelock, before dropping Vicente face first to the mat with a big DDT.

He rolls Vicente over onto his back before hooking the leg for the cover.

ONE!



TWO!


KICKOUT!

Kindo adjusts his mask and reaches down to peel Vicente off the mat once more, but Vicente wriggles free of Kindo's grasp, grabbing him by the back of the head and throwing him over the ropes.

Kindo lands feet first on the apron, grabbing onto the top rope for dear life, but by the time he looks up, Vicente connects with a running high knee that knocks Kindo off the apron and sends him crashing to the floor below! The crowd erupts in cheers as Vicente grabs his knee once more, seeming to will him on.

Simon Wexler: They love him here in Mexico, ladies and germs! And I think he's gonna give them another reason to right now!

The official starts his count as Kindo stirs on the outside. In the ring Vicente bows his head with his hands pressed together before shooting a glance over to the opposite set of ropes.

As Kindo gets back to one knee, Vicente crosses himself before hitting the ropes.

Kindo gets back to his feet, just in time for Vicente to dive through the ropes and drive right into him, both men tumbling hard to the outside floor!

Simon Wexler: FOR THE FAMILIA!

The official restarts his count.

ONE!

Simon Wexler: Remember fans, the outside of the ring is no-man's land! Everything's legal so long as the competitors make it back into the ring before the official's count hits twenty!

TWO!

Vicente begins to stir, Kindo writhes on the floor.

THREE!

Vicente makes it back to his feet, reaching down to peel Kindo off the floor.

FOUR!

Both men are standing now, Vicente attempts to whip Kindo into the guardrails, but Kindo reverses it! Vicente crashes hard into the railing! Kindo wastes no time in attempting to keep the pressure up.

FIVE!

As Kindo approaches, though, Vicente explodes off the railing, catching Kindo in the mask with another forearm shot. He grabs Kindo by the back of the head and guides him face first into the top of the railing.

SIX!

Vicente follows up the slam by whipping Kindo into the ringpost! Kindo spins out and lands flat on his back as his head rings off the post, one of his arms winding up under the apron.

SEVEN!

Vicente stalks the fallen Kindo. He reaches to pry Kindo off the ground, but Kindo snakes his arm out from under the apron, swinging a lead pipe wildly. It catches Vicente in the side of the head, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

Simon Wexler: Son of a bitch! Is he out?!

EIGHT!

Kindo gingerly pushes himself up to a knee. Vicente doesn't move.

NINE!

Kindo shakes loose the cobwebs, adjusting his mask once more as he gets back to his feet, inspecting it for damage.

TEN!

Kindo drops the pipe and drags Vicente up to his feet. He forces Vicente back into the ring before following after him. He stalks the fallen, seemingly limp Vicente. However, when he reaches down, it's Vicente's turn to spring to life, rolling Kindo up into a small package pin!

Simon Wexler: Oh SHIT!

ONE!




TWO!






THR— Kindo KICKS OUT!

Kindo explodes to his feet, and so does Vicente.

The two charge at each other. Vicente gets the upper hand with another leaping knee that dazes Kindo without taking him off his feet. Vicente shakes his head and hits the ropes, springboarding off the middle rope, looking to take Kindo's head off with a european uppercut.

BUT KINDO CATCHES HIM!

Simon Wexler: HOLY SHIT!

Kindo falls backwards, dropping Vicente with a huge back suplex!

Simon Wexler: Kindo looks like he might've hurt himself with that one though!

Kindo gingerly rises to his feet, holding the small of his back. Vicente rolls through the impact, landing in a dazed, seated position. Kindo shakes his head and hits the ropes, BLASTING Vicente with a bicycle knee!

Simon Wexler: Sweet Kiss! He just keeps doing this move to make me say it, huh?

Kindo goes for the cover, hooking the leg. The crowd erupts with boos.

ONE!




TWO!







THRE—NOPE! Vicente gets a shoulder up!

Kindo pounds the mat, before dragging Vicente back to his feet. Vicente breaks free of Kindo's grasp and catches him with another forearm. Kindo reaches forward and grabs Vicente by the wrist, whipping him into the ropes.

On the rebound, however, Vicente catches him hard with a drop kick!

Kindo hits the canvas hard, grabbing the small of his back as he tries to rise back to his feet. Vicente helps him up the rest of the way, before setting him up for the Spanish Fly.

That he hits!

Simon Wexler: La Mosca Dorada!

Vicente covers!

ONE!




TWO!







THREE— WRONG AGAIN! KINDO KICKS OUT!

Vicente's eyes widen.

Simon Wexler: These two are gonna fuckin' kill each other.

Vicente shakes his head, hopping back to his feet and scaling the turnbuckles. On the mat, Kindo writhes, dragging himself closer to the ropes.

Vicente sets himself up for his Phoenix Splash, but before he leaps Kindo jostles the ropes just enough for Vicente to lose his balance. He crashes hard on the turnbuckles, crotching himself. Kindo gingerly scales the turnbuckles and hoists Vicente up.

Before landing a Falcon Arrow off the top rope!

Simon Wexler: The Thunderbolt!

Kindo collapses atop Vicente for the cover.

ONE!






TWO!







THREE!

Bruce Buffer: And your winner, by pinfall: Mundo Kindo!

"Pretend" hits the speakers once more as the official helps Kindo back to his feet, holding his arm high in victory.

Simon Wexler: After a hellacious back and forth contest, Mundo Kindo finds himself the winner once again! Las Vegas really does just keep losing, huh?