Black Pyramid Wrestling Season 2, Episode 4 (9/29/21)

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Jason: DAWG, lemme tell you somethin'. This a karaoke bar ain't it? Y'all do karaoke, with the songs and screens with the words on 'em and the dopes singing to a bar of other dopes waitin' their turn to show their whole asses but not even in that way, right? We here at fuckin' Castro's DICK-go-THICK and you're gonna throw me out for abidin' by the law 'a the land is that right?

Yung Sheldon stands on his tiptoes to barely be seen standing beside Jason.

Yung Sheldon: Your playlist is also disappointingly lacking.

The bouncer, a portly, balding retired badass shakes his head before speaking in heavily accented English.

Bouncer: You weren't singing the words on the screen.

Jason: Bull-fuckin'-shit I wasn't! Tell me one fuckin' word I got wrong on that song.

Yung Sheldon: I wanted to sing Look at Me but you didn't have it.

Jason looks down at the pre-teen tugging on his jacket sleeve.

Jason: Chill Shel, lemme handle it.

Bouncer: You staggered onto the stage, grabbed the mic from one of our regulars who was singing "Turn the Page" and shouted "YOOOOOOOOOO WHO HERE KNOWS HORNY BOB SEGER?"

Jason cackles to himself before shaking his head.

Jason: That is a gross mischaracterization of what happened and I DO NOT sound like that thank you very much.

Bouncer: You were up there shouting "HERE I AM, BLOWING LOADS AGAIN / THERE I AM, CUM ON THE PAGE."

Yung Sheldon: X is a legend and you guys just ignored him when putting together the playlist. Distasteful.

The bouncer's eyes dart down to Yung Sheldon.

Bouncer: And this one stabbed one of our bartenders when he tried to wrangle you off the stage.

Yung Sheldon rolls his eyes.

Yung Sheldon: I slashed him on the arm, that's a completely different action to stabbing. Let me demonstrate.

Yung Sheldon, still holding the bloody chef's knife because clearly no one thought it'd be pertinent to take it from him, slashes at the air as the bouncer's eyes widen.

Yung Sheldon: See? Slice.

He then thrusts the blade forward, catching the bouncer in the gut.

Yung Sheldon: Stab. Different.

The bouncer looks down at the blade in the stomach, and then back up at the duo. Jason and Yung Sheldon look at each other and then sprint out the door, into the night.

Meanwhile, a clearly drunk Lil Hydroxyquine stumbles around on stage, slurring along to Ludacris' verse on Usher's "Yeah" as the crowd cheers him on.

Encounters

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Lazaro Vincente arrives at his locker early before the show. Things seem rather slow for now, but that also has him looking over both shoulders. Flashes of the Puerto Rico days of wrestling nightmares plays into the scene as he looks at the strange note randomly taped on his locker. The Golden Idol pulls it back to find what appears to be rainbow construction paper cut haphazardly and then glued back together like a Toddler’s first mosaic from vacation bible school. He grimaces with guttural moans.

Lazaro punches his locker, only to see the first arrow pointing him down the hallway he just left. Each one leads him into the armory hall’s bowers at the beckoning of these poorly cut and obnoxiously colored strips of construction paper. The Golden Idol follows what must assuredly be a trap by BPW’s inescapable jester, Hachiman.

His search leads him into what appears to be the boiler room judging by both numerous gas meters and random shop vacs crammed in a musky corner. There, in the darkness, he sees individual bulbs of light flickering in pentagram. Across their lighting sits a confident Hachiman with his fancier, blue turban.

Hachiman: Greetings friend, please, have a seat.

Lázaro Vicente: I’m not going to summon Satan with you, cabron.

Hachiman: Well, it all depends on what you called him in real life. But I assure you there’s no diablos here.

Lázaro Vicente: This was a mistake.

Lázaro turns to walk away.

Lázaro Vicente: You better be ready for—

Hachiman: Is that any way to speak to your father, hijo?

Lazaro’s eyes focus with murderous intent.

Lázaro: Do you dare!

Hachiman: You think gringos were bad to Mexicans... the Japanese were far worse.

His eyes blast open wide. Hachiman, however, looks to be in a trance.

Hachiman: When I stepped in that ring, those stiff puntas—

Lázaro Vicente: Stop that!

Hachiman: Don’t you address your father this way!

Lázaro Vicente: How—how did you that. Don’t play games, Hachiman. How did you my father had troubles with Japanese promotions. Did you just like, read his bio?

Hachiman: Because I AM your dad!

Lázaro Vicente: That’s it, cabron!

He reaches across the table, and in one swift motion, upends and scoop slams Hachiman through the séance table. He lands with a thud with all his occult items scattering to the Four Winds. Lazaro storms off; however, before he’s left earshot, Hachiman speaks up once more in a weak voice.

Hachiman: You can’t even wear my white boots, mijo...

The Golden Idol snarls and can be heard cursing off camera as we close in on the injured Hachiman. His eyes refocus towards in a random direction before coming back to center. He then belts out maniacal laughter as everything fades to black.

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

9mm Parabellum Bullet's "Mad Pierrot" starts to play and Hachiman emerges from the back, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Bruce Buffer: Introducing next, standing six feet tall and weighing in tonight at two hundred, forty-five pounds! Fighting out of the Forgotten Realm of the Grand Canyon, Hachiman!

Hachiman makes his way down the aisle, a wide-eyed grin on his face as he looks out at the crowd

William: What kind of tomfoolery does he have up his sleeves this week, sir?

Simon Wexler: He doesn't even have sleeves.

"Mad Pierrot" fades, as 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: And his opponent, 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.

Wiliam: These two nice young men have a bit of history. Did you know that, sir?

Simon Wexler: Well yeah. I've been with BPW since day one. 

William: Remember all the way back to last week when they were two-thirds of a swell triple threat match that also featured Ripped "Tide" Taylor?

Simon Wexler: Of course. 

William: That sure was swell!

Simon Wexler: Are we doing a bit here?

Vicente and Hachiman meet in the middle of the ring, neither showing an inch of trepidation. The opening bell sounds and they come to blows. Vicente gets in a knee to his tummy with enough force to rearrange his organs. Hachiman doubles over and Vicente elbows the back of his head before locking in a headlock. Hachiman delivers a few shots to Vicente, then backs him to the ropes. He shoots Vicente off, and they both try to shoulder block each other. They collide in the center, neither gaining advantage. They argue in the middle of the ring and Hachiman hits the ropes. Again, they both have the same idea… shoulder block. Again, they don't get anywhere. 

William: These gentlemen seem evenly matched. It's as if they are familiar with each other's repertoire. 

Again, they argue, until Hachiman throws a clothesline… that Vicente ducks. They turn toward each other and Vincente lights him up with knife edge chops. Hachiman backs up to the corner to evade danger, but Vincente follows and continues his attack. After a bit of a playful shimmy, he pulls Hachiman out of the corner. Hachiman breaks free with an eye gouge, followed by a spinning wheel kick. Vincente hits the mat and Hachiman follows up with an elbow drop to the throat. Vincente writhes in pain. Hachiman drags him up and into an airplane spin, followed by a TKO cutter. 

Simon Wexler: FEVER DREAM FANTASIA!!!

William: SHOOTFIRE! WHAT A MANEUVER!!!

Simon Wexler: THERE'S THE COVER!!

ONE!

 

TWO!!

 
THR--KICKOUT!!

Hachiman doesn't believe it and he argues with the ref, while Vincente crawls to the ropes. Hachiman threatens the ref before turning his attention back to Vincente. Hachiman charges to the ropes and boots him in the head. Vincente falls between the ropes, tumbling to the outside. Hachiman goes after him and he drags Vincente up, before pitching him into the barricade. 

William: Señor Vincente is in a bad place right now. That's for darn sure.

The referee starts to count.

ONE! TWO! THREE!

Hachiman yells back at the ref that he knows the rules.

FOUR! FIVE! SIX!

When he turns back, Vincente surprises him with a running high knee with his knee pad pulled down.

SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!

Hachiman flies backwards, crashing into the ring steps.

TEN! ELEVEN! TWELVE!

William: OH NO! LOOK!!

We pan in to see Hachiman bleeding from the back of his head. 

THIRTEEN! FOURTEEN! FIFTEEN!

Vincente is lying on the ground clutching his knee.

Simon Wexler: That doesn't look good.

SIXTEEN! SEVENTEEN! EIGHTEEN!

He struggles to get to his feet, just as Hachiman pulls himself up onto the ring steps.

William: They're not going to make it!

NINETEEN!

Both men tumble forward to the apron.

TWENTY!!!!!!!!

They both roll into the ring, but a moment too late. The referee calls for the bell. 

Simon Wexler: WHAT?!!!

The referee talks to Bruce Buffer by the ropes. 

Bruce Buffer: The referee's decision is to call this match off due to both competitors failing to break the count!

The fans boo the decision.

William: Shucks. You hate go see it but the referee's word is law.

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

"Cry Little Sister" by Gerard McMann hits the speakers and the monstrous form of Lockhart emerges from behind the curtain, The Bastard Warlord notably absent from his side.

Bruce Buffer: Introducing first, standing eight feet, two inches tall, and weighing in tonight at five hundred, thirty-seven pounds! Fighting out of The Greatest Place on Earth, "The Warrior General" Lockhart!

Lockhart lumbers down the aisle, the ground seeming to shake with each step he takes on his way to the ring. He climbs up onto the apron, stepping over the top rope to enter the ring.

William: WOAH!

Simon Wexler: I forgot you haven't seen Lockhart yet.

William: What the heck is that thing?!

"Cry Little Sister" fades out, replaced by nothing, nowhere's "Pretend." Mundo Kindo steps out from behind the curtain.

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

Kindo makes his way down the aisle, attention fixed on the behemoth in the ring as he scales the ring stairs and steps between the ropes.

Simon Wexler: Kindo took a hard loss last week at the hands of L.A. Blackwater, and it looks like it's gone from bad to worse!

William: I don't know if anyone could pull this one off!

The bell rings and immediately Kindo explodes out of his corner, hoping to catch the giant off-guard by driving his feet into Lockhart's chest with a running dropkick. Lockhart eats the blow and remains upright, as if unfazed.

Simon Wexler: Oh, fucking yikes.

Before Kindo can get back to his feet or roll out of the way, Lockhart reaches down and rips him off the canvas like a bandage before driving a knee deep into Kindo's gut that doubles the smaller man over. Lockhart drives a clubbing blow down across Kindo's neck, and then another, and a third. Shoving the smaller man away, Lockhart finally steps out of his corner, lifting another knee into Kindo's side that sends him sprawling to the mat.

William: The big man's just picking Kindo apart out here!

Simon Wexler: I wish I knew anything about Greek mythology, they probably got some great metaphor for what's going on right now.

Lockhart stalks the fallen Kindo, dropping a knee across the smaller man's back. Kindo screams in pain, though his mask fails to betray his anguish beyond that. Lockhart peels Kindo of the canvas, cinching in a front facelock before hoisting Kindo up and dropping him hard to the mat with a huge brainbuster!

Simon Wexler: Forgotten Legacy!

William: That's gotta be it!

Lockhart plants a boot on Kindo's chest.

ONE!

TWO!

Kickout! Kindo gets his shoulder up convincingly, and Lockhart's expression changes. A sick smile spreads across his face as he pries Kindo off the mat once more.

Simon Wexler: Kindo might wish he just stayed down.

Lockhart doubles Kindo over with a punch to the gut before forcing Kindo's head between his thighs. He gets Kindo up, seated on his shoulders, looking for a powerbomb!

William: Hammer of Odin!

Simon Wexler: WAIT!

Lockhart hesitates, as Kindo digs his fingers into Lockhart's eyes! The ref can't quite make out what's happening, but Kindo slips free of Lockhart's grip and drops feet first to the mat as Lockhart reaches for his face.

With the beast distracted, Kindo takes advantage, lining up a superkick that catches Lockhart in the side of the knee!

Simon Wexler: Oh that ain't gonna feel nice!

The beast roars as he's knocked off balance by the blow. Kindo lines up his shot and connects once more on the same spot, jelly-legging the behemoth. Kindo adjusts his mask, the sight giving him pause.

William: He's got him off-balance!

Simon Wexler: Holy shit he might actually be able to pull this off.

Kindo tries to make it three in a row, throwing another superkick, but Lockhart reaches down, snatching Kindo's leg out of the air.

Simon Wexler: Oh, fuck.

Lockhart, with his grasp on Kindo's leg solid, uses this handle to swing Kindo through the ropes and literally out of the rings. Kindo crashes hard to the floor outside, clanging against the guardrail on impact.

William: OH MY GOD!

Lockhart settles his balance and climbs over the ropes, following his opponent to the outside of the ring. Inside the ring, the official begins his count.

ONE!

Lockhart stalks the fallen Kindo once more, but as he reaches down to grab his fallen foe, Kindo wildly swings a boot upwards that catches Lockhart in the groin. Lockhart's eyes widen and he backpedals, clutching his groin.

Simon Wexler: Reminder folks: outside of the ring, everything goes!

TWO!

Kindo pushes himself to his feet and reaches under the ropes, pulling out a bright orange, pronged, rod.

THREE!

William: Is that a cattle prod?!

Lockhart storms over to Kindo, only to get jabbed in the abdomen by the prod. The current jolts through the beast, freezing him for a moment, but Lockhart remains upright. Looking down at the prod, a light bulb seems to go off in Kindo's head. He retreats from Lockhart, leaping over the ring steps as he races around the outside of the ring.

FOUR!

Regaining his bearings, Lockhart takes off after Kindo, lumbering around the ring.

FIVE!

Looking down at the device, Kindo fiddles with it. A visible current erupts from the prongs. Kindo adjusts his mask, before hopping up on the apron, keeping the prongs of the prod pointed down, out of sight.

SIX!

He shouts at Lockhart, beckoning him back in the ring. Lockhart pulls himself onto the apron and obliges, urging Kindo to follow. Kindo, instead, scales the ropes and poises himself on the top turnbuckle.

SEVEN!

William: Why's he still counting!

Simon Wexler: He's saying Kindo hasn't entered the ring yet!

Lockhart storms towards the turnbuckle Kindo's standing on.

EIGHT!

William: What is Kindo doing?

Simon Wexler: It's like he's— oh, shit!

As Lockhart gets in range, Kindo drives the prod down hard onto Lockhart's face! The current EXPLODES through Lockhart's veins as a large, explosive force drives Lockhart back, sprawled on the mat, twitching.

NINE!

Simon Wexler: HE NEVER GOT IN THE RING! THAT'S STILL LEGAL!

William: Is Lockhart's face burning?!

Kindo drops the prod and leaps off the turnbuckle, dropping a BIG KNEE down across the back of Lockhart's head!

Simon Wexler: From Egg to Air!

Kindo HEAVES the fallen body of Lockhart onto his back before covering the twitching beast, forcing his shoulders to the mat.

ONE!


TWO!




THREE!

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

"Pretend" hits the speakers once more as the official attempts to raise Kindo's arm in victory.

William: What the heck just happened?!

Simon Wexler: By hook or by crook, Kindo keeps finding ways to stay alive!

Through, as he glances up the ramp, he sees The Bastard Warlord himself coming through the curtain. As Bull hits the ring, Kindo slips out and hops the railing, escaping through the crowd as Bull checks on his fallen Warrior General.