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[b]vs[/b] 
[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/170617/75aca691b3e706618d09706b50a4f839.png[/img]
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Collab with:[@JamesMuddy]
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Ian approached the worker’s entrance for the SAP Center, gave identification, and entered inside. He was told to come early and warm up, since he was having his second - and final - tournament match later that night. The boy was quick to get changed and get his body paint done, anticipating the opening match like he had the week before. He began stretching, pulling his arms behind his head and circling them around as he approached the room behind the gorilla position. Ian, now Owen Sparks, read the card.

And he wasn’t opening the show.

He wasn’t lodged awkwardly in the midcard either.

In fact, Owen Sparks wasn’t on until the very bottom of the show - the main event.

[color=DAA520]“Holy. Shit.”[/color] How was this even possible? Owen knew Gethin Rhys was winning, and that they needed to make him look good, but Owen also knew that he was basically a glorified jobber. What did they expect him to do on THE MAIN EVENT?

---

The slow synthwave music begins to pulse out across the arena as the lights fade to black. A dark hue of neon blue and purple begins to creep through and illuminate the darkness as Gethin soon emerges from the Gorilla position. The chorus of boos rang out and fed his determination, the fans distane for his brand of professional violence would only serve to hurt their fan favourite underdog Owen Sparks as the Welsh Dragon prepared to kick his teeth out. Rhys made the slow walk towards the ring, his body chiseled to the point where he may as well be etched out of marble. It wasn’t always like that, he was one 100lbs heavier and certainly rounder. He worked hard to become the perfect specimen he was and he would make sure that all that effort didn’t go to waste. There was a title with his name on it waiting for him.

He climbed into the ring and began to crack his joints, loosening them up for the battle that was to come. Gethin’s worked a heavy strike style, he needed his accuracy to be on point, he needed it to look like it flowed naturally. Being loose and relaxed was the first step to that. The handsome devil allowed his steely eyes to wander ever so slightly to ringside, where he caught the gaze of one Vivienne Ripley, the enticing young ring announcer that would soon litter the walls of prepubescent boys everywhere; he would put on a show for her tonight.

Gethin leaned back into the corner and focused his attention on the entrance ramp where Sparks would soon be heading down. Gethin made it a point to allow Owen the secondary entrance, it would allow the youngster to feel more important, the crowd would focus their attentions to him and help him get over. This would not be Gethin’s usual type of match. So far in his AWE run, he had pretty much been booked solidly like a destroyer but tonight, tonight he asked for 50/50. Gethin was no fool, he saw the potential in Owen to be the next great star and the business of professional wrestling should never be just about one man, it should be about an entire roster. Tonight was about Owen Sparks and getting that kid some momentum.

The dark colors were quickly perished by a bright yellow light on the titantron, and the name “Owen Sparks” in white flashing up on that background. The muffled guitar of Owen’s theme started, and as the song kicked into gear, Owen jumped out from behind the screen, to a pop that was much bigger than he expected. The crowd was into him, and the boy couldn’t be happier.

Was this the choice of someone as important as Roddy Quinn, or had Rhys suggested that this match be the main event? Maybe one of them saw something in Owen. Either way he was damn grateful. Owen nodded his head along to the music as he walked down to the ramp, taking time to approach fans on the sides of the ramp and high-five them or take their complements. Heck, one boy there even had a sign saying “Owen, own them!”. Quite frankly, Ian was shocked his character was getting so much love. He proceeded to walk over to the kid, who was at ringside, and hold up the sign for a few seconds, before handing it back to the kid and ruffling the boy’s hair.

[color=DAA520][i]“These guys much really hate Gethin for me to get so much love.”[/i][/color] Granted, the cheering wasn’t explosive or anything, just far above what the rookie usually got. Sparks rolled into the ring and faced the hard camera, then stuck a fist up it the air and smiled whilst hopping about happily. He couldn’t wait to get into the action. Owen took his spot in the top left corner of the ring, and Rhys in his bottom right corner.

Gethin took in the atmosphere once more before the referee called for the bell. He took several steps forward as did the young Owen before the two began with a standard collar and elbow tie up. [color=wheat]”Alright kid, let's make you famous”[/color] the welshmen muttered into his opponents ear. [color=wheat]”I work stiff but if it's too much just let me know”[/color] With that said, Gethin switched gears and fully embraced his character once again. Hooking Sparks left arm, the Cardiff Psycho hyper extended it and rolled beneath the rookie, forcing his arm into a hammerlock. He applied enough pressure to force the bright Spark to the mat where he proceeded with a few stiff slaps to his opponent’s neck: staining it a nice red.

[color=wheat]”Reverse”[/color] Owen had never done any super rough stuff before - He was always one for high flying and grappling over pure strikes or shoot wrestling. This was one hell of an introduction. Nevertheless, Sparks began to build his way back up to his feet. He knew that Rhys was too heavy for a kid like him to fully lift up, but the moment Sparks had a few centimeters of space below him, he swung him un-hammerlocked side of the body underneath himself and threw Rhys to the floor behind him.

The boy quickly scrambled up to his feet, as did his opponent, then ran at the ropes behind himself and bounced off, launching himself at the Welsh Dragon with a low dropkick, taking one foot out from underneath him and dropping him to one knee. A few more kicks to the chest returned the neck-slapping favour, after which Owen ran backwards to the ropes once more, then jumped at Rhys with another dropkick. Gethin, however, quickly snapped from his dazed position to set-to-kill once more, and grabbed each of Spark’s legs with one hand, then watched as the poor kid’s upper body fell helplessly to the ground. As Owen’s fell, Gethin pounced onto his upper body and went to town on Spark’s face with both fists. Owen could only hold his forearms up to block, but even that wasn’t doing much. [color=DAA520] “Let me headscissor you.”[/color]

After a few more punches Gethin sat up, resting for a few seconds before Sparks brought his legs up, wrapped them around The Brutal Artist’s neck then pulled down, once more taking Rhys down to the mat and getting him off of Owen.

Gethin played the part well, looking shocked at how much offense the rookie was getting in. He was playing sloppy and it was perfect. The crowd were getting behind Owen as planned. The noise they were making was a good indicator, they were rallying to see the underdog beat the villain. 

Getting to his feet, Rhys rushed the still kneeling Sparks and smashed his jaw with a very stiff knee to the jaw, sending the kid back to a seated position from where promptly, the killer began to repeatedly kick him in the chest. Red wells and burst blood vessels began to appear on his opponents skin and Gethin was living for it. Taking a beating would only add some roughness to the Sparks character, something it really needed. With a final well placed kick, Gethin pulled the younger wrestler to his feet and tried for a rolling elbow. Swiftly, Owen ducked and threw Gethin out of the ring. The crowd wanted to see him fly, he charged the rear ropes and flew over the top for a suicide dive. Sadly, the Cardiff psycho was waiting and drilled Sparky in the jaw with a laser guided European uppercut to the chin. Like a fly, Sparks was swatted out of the air, collapsing to the ground in a red-skinned, soon to be bruised heap. Gethin looked proud of his attack, being sure to wear a smug grin as he rolled back into the ring.

The referee started counting. Owen remained immobile on the floor until the count of 4, where he slowly began to rise. By the count of 7, the kid was on his hands and knees, yet still not in the ring. The crowd, knowing a countout victory would happen unless they rallied support, started clapping in sync. Somehow, the rookie Sparks was on his feet by the 9 count, and he dashed back into the ring. The underdog part was being played perfectly.

Rhys took no time in getting back on the assault, going for a straight stomp to the face. However, Sparks knew it was his turn to get some real offense in. He rolled further into the ring to avoid the stomp, then got up so he was crouching and and stomped sideways into the back of Gethin’s knee, dropping him down onto it. Owen then said to Rhys: [color=DAA520]“Springboard Crossbody.”[/color] Without wasting a moment, Sparks jumped to his feet and ran to the ropes opposite where he entered the ring, bounced onto them, and sprung off into a big cross-body. Gethin, now on his feet and facing the young boy, held his hands up to catch Sparks. Both collapsed to the ground, and Owen quickly hooked a leg and went for a pin. He held his head close to Gethin’s ear and whispered [color=DAA520]“That was awesome.”[/color]

The Cardiff Psycho kicked out at the beginning of the two count, and both men rose to their feet, face to face once more. In a second, Gethin struck Owen twice in the face before hitting a spin kick to the gut and a leg sweep to take the kid down. Instantly the Welshman was down on the floor grabbed Owen’s arm and snapped his fingers apart. The crowd let out a disgusted groan at his actions. He was done playing now. Pulling Sparks to his feet by his long hair before promptly clashing their heads together with a patented stiff head butt. 

Gethin watched the rookie drop to the floor in a heap as blood trickled down his own forehead. He looked to Vivi and then the crowd and a horrifying smile crossed his face as the crowd began to chant.

[b]”You sick fuck! You sick fuck! You sick fuck!”[/b]

This match was brutal. It was not for the light-hearted. The casual fans were heavily in support of their underdog Sparks, and the smarks and hardcore fans were heavily behind the better wrestler, Rhys. It was a classic David vs Goliath scenario. Except in this one Goliath was fast. Nevertheless, that would only be one more obstacle Owen Sparks would have to overcome on his way to a victory. It was the main event dammit!

Sparks rose to his feet as the referee checked for blood, but eventually got back up. It wasn’t long before the… ahem… sick fuck got back on the attack, laying punch after chop after elbow on the small boy. Gethin overwhelmed his opponent into the corner, where the ref forced a break up. He forced Rhys out of the corner, and the striker turned away as the ref made his take his few steps back. Ever the opportunist, Sparks realised his opponent’s back had turned and began to scale the turnbuckles behind him until he was sitting on the top one with his feet on the second. The moment Gethin’s body started turning back, Sparks was off like a rocket, leaping into the air in preparation for a dropkick. He struck Rhys head-on and the man went tumbling backwards like he was a movie star selling a stunner. It was time for Spark’s big momentum build, baby.

Owen quickly jumped to his feet, then ran at Rhys, and laid him out with a shining wizard. The crowd got up and started cheering. This was Sparks’ big moment. Two of Owen’s signature moves had just been performed, but next was a deadlift german suplex. This was gonna hurt one of them. Gethin was on his hands and knees, recovering from the big kick. Owen delicately wrapped his arms around Rhys’ abdomen, bent his knees, and began to pull.

For those not in the know, here’s a little tale of the tape:
Sparks: Little boy - Gethin Rhys: Big boy

Owen could feel his back sear in pain as he deadlifted the Welsh Dragon, but now the crowd was thoroughly behind him, clapping along rhythmically to egg the Spark of Brilliance on. Owen lifted as hard as he could, his hands clasped together tight around Rhys’ waist to make sure he couldn’t get out.


One final heave, Owen pulled Gethin over his head and the Cardiff Psycho crashed onto the mat on his neck and upper back, his legs folding over to his head. The crowd popped at the moment of victory, and counted along to the bridging pin.

“One!” The possibility of the underdog coming through was very real.
“Two!” People were up on their feet, ready to experience something extraordinary.
But before a three count could come, the horrible heel, the Welsh Dragon, Gethin Rhys, rolled backwards and over his head, escaping the cover. Many boos were had.

Gethin rolled back against the turn buckle, wrapping his arms around either side of the ropes to steady himself. This was amazing, the crowd were really getting behind the kid, just like they had planned. Now it was time to end it, dash their hopes and dreams. Owen had had the taste of glory now, hopefully it would force him to up his game and help him get to where he needed to be. [color=wheat]”Finish”[/color] Gethin mouthed as he shook the cobwebs from his head. Owen approached him in the corner but Rhys quickly slid to the outside to a chorus of boos. Sparks followed him but the crafty veteran was playing possum and proceeded to pull the youngster face first into the steel ring post before rolling him back into the ring.

Climbing up onto the apron, Gethin locked eye with his prey. He hissed through his gumshield which soon turned into a terrifying roar. Charging through the ropes, the young boy killer began blasting Sparks in the chest with a repeated stiff kicks. Every time Owen fell to the mat, Gethin would pull him back up by his hair and kick him again. Each kick was more vicious than the last. Finally relenting, the welshman pulled his opponent to his feet and hooked his head beneath his arm. For a moment he debated whether to use his new finisher but he thought better of it, he would save that for the finals. Lifting Owen off the ground, Gethin let out one final primal howl before jerking his body around and bring Sparks down on his head with his signature twisting brainbuster.

With that exclamation point, Gethin covered the youngster and the ref counted “1. 2. 3!!!”

Getting back to a vertical base, Rhys looked out across the crowd. He stood in the ring, battle worn and bloodied and he grinned that sick grin as his music began to play. Now on to the finals.[/center]