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Believe Me!; Open Challenge For The Internet Title
Topic Started: Mar 2 2018, 02:16 PM (325 Views)
LalSingh
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Hit-Naan-Lee
The EnMAX Centrum; Red Deer, Alberta, Canada. Rage opened with spectacular pyro, but for those at home, this part was taken up with intro music and a video package. When arena fireworks, and televised preambles finished both forms of viewership were treated to a rather interesting sight. Booted feet. Those in the arena saw this on the tron screens, but knew who the feet belonged to before the slow camera tilt up by looking into the ring.

The tilt upward was slow, purposefully so, giving an excellent HD tour of Lal Singh's incredible legs. The camera stopped at her hips, lingering on her tush until Lal's hand appeared, motioning for the tilt to continue. Completing the climb, the camera stopped on a shot that framed Singh's smirking face face. The camera angle changed to one framing the new Internet Champion from the waist up. Over her shoulder she held the strap, a hand pinning it in place. Her other hand held a microphone.

<Doug Smith>
‘This Canadian crowd is giving PRW, and its Internet Champion a warm welcome!‘

<Josh Brunswick>
‘No kidding!‘

She waited for the decently loud chorus of cheers to abate before she brought the mic to her lips.

<Lal Singh>
‘Good evening RED DEER!‘

A cheap pop, but it wasn't like anyone was expecting anything else, especially from a rookie, who, despite a meteoric run to date, was still a bit green on the mic. Still, her exotic accent and looks made the whole thing work for the most. People bought into it. People had bought into her, as she pointed to several signs in the crowd. Lal-Berg. Lethal Legs. Hit-Naan-Lee.

<Lal Singh>
‘February 11th was my last match for that month. Salvation. I walked in on two legs, and was carried out by the ring crew.‘

<Josh Brunswick>
‘True words.‘

<Doug Smith>
‘She's the champ but she didn't walk as one, as the saying goes.‘

Singh let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

<Lal Singh>
‘There has been plenty of things said about Jack Rider, but I will say the most important thing...Rider, you are a man not to be taken lightly, and still a champion in my book; you brought value to this title by removing a formidable opponent, and then by being a formidable one yourself. I thank you.‘

Red Deer got behind that with some verbal excitement.

<Doug Smith>
‘Singh has some class, as does this crowd, apparently.‘

<Josh Brunswick>
‘Respect is due anyone who puts someone out of commission for the better half of a month!‘

Regarding her leg with a quizzical, raised brow, Singh looked skeptical, but hopeful.

<Lal Singh>
‘Nineteen days...nineteen days since I have kicked anyone; I think it is time to break the fast, so to speak! I offer an open challenge to anyone, one on one, for the title on my shoulder! Believe Me!‘

A wall of ovation sounded and Lal Singh went to her corner as commentary gushed. It was time to get back into gear, make Rage all the rage.

TBC: Anyone who wants a shot.
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Betterthanthebest
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Matthew Stevenson
The crowd was silent maybe trying to get a foot step from anybody hunger for a shot at the Internet Championship. The newly crowned champion paced back and forth waiting for someone to make there way down to the ring and face her for the championship. It seems as like no one wanted to fight until a familiar theme blasted in the arena and everyone made a loud pop seeming to break the sound barrier...



A damaged Stevenson walks from the back and stands on the ramp, looking at the thousands of fans screaming his name. He smiles and looks the the champion in the ring.

Brunswick: STEVENSON! After a brutal match with Greg at Salvation could he be hundred percent to compete against the Internet Champion?

Smith: He sure isn't dressed like it.

Smith was right, Matthew was in his underarmour T-shirt and cargo shorts, with grey sneakers on. He had a microphone in his hand and he began to use it as his loud theme faded...

Matthew Stevenson: Where is my manners? Congratulations on winning the Internet Championship, I've rewatched your match with Rider like ten times while I was getting treated for my shoulder and nose, I got to say that you are extremely talented and I would have no problem stepping into that ring and facing you for the championship. Ironic really, because the first and second championship match I got, your mentor Haruna costed me the chance to win it.

But now months later, I'm standing at the open challenge with her student who holds the same belt. So yeah, I have no problems fighting you right here and right now!


The crowd was hyped as Matthew paced down the ring ready for a fight, he then stopped at the edge of the ramp.

Matthew Stevenson: Wait, you declared that I was number one contender for the belt at Blackout on PRTwitter. Which means I have a shot at the belt no matter if you lose it tonight, which also means I don't have to fight at fifty percent now, I could just have my chance at Blackout.

Matthew backs away from the ring looking The champion in her fight filled eyes, the crowd a bit disappointed.

Matthew Stevenson: Good luck tonight, I hope to see you at Blackout~

He waves as he disappears behind the certain, Sigh was a bit confused hoping to get a early shot at Stevenson but she might have to wait until Blackout, maybe longer if she can't win this match.

TBC: Anyone who wants a match
Edited by Betterthanthebest, Mar 2 2018, 09:01 PM.
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KingsMan
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Singh waited in the ring; her patience starting to wear thin. But her time of waiting was soon to come to an end. As the lights dimmed; the speakers slowly come to life a dim but stagnant spotlight falls on the top of the ramp.



Striding out the back at a leisurely pace; Cousin Eddie heads towards the ring; dressed in all black and holding his ever present leather and metal bound book, the spotlight following him along the way. He is smiling broadly. As he nears the ring; the music fades as the lights slowly rise up.

Singh is guarded in the ring. She has seen this set up many time before. Eddie comes out, blabbers a bit, 9Scar and Maxwell in tow at times0, lights cut and suddenly Mordrad appears and beat down the occupant of the ring. Though she feel fit enough for a fight even she knows that a potential assault from the monster Mordrad would be too much for her to handle.

Seeing her spinged and set stance; Eddie’s smile broadens a bit. Pulling a mic from his back; he speaks to the primed,readied, and suspicious long legged wonder woman. As he speaks his tone is much like the song; calm and mesomeric tones with a sinister and clandestine layer of danger underneath.

Stand down my dear. I am not out here to hurt you. No I am out here to congratulate you. You truly are a wonder to behold. A sight of fervious female form and function that does not mince words or work. You had a goal and you attained it. Brash and bold words that are matched with equally brutal and beautiful action; a rare attribute in this world that seems to be ever softening. You my dear caramel and cream warrior are a true diamond in the ruff; beautiful to behold yet deadly in the right hands.

Eddie walks to the left of Singh, moving about her in a semi-circle as he admired her form. She goes to speak but Eddie cuts her off.

No words yet my dear. Before you say a word let me make an offer to you. As woman such as yourself has all the tools and talent to be a truly dominate force; a real monster to behold. I myself, as well as my compatriot Mordrad, are somewhat of a expert on monsters and their ilk. We want to surround ourselves with best and most brutal.

Continuing his walk around; Eddie stops in his original spot and look Singh up and down.

That title you wear is the same Mordrad wore for nearly a year without a single worthy or brave enough challenger. I can see that due to the activity you have seen tonight; have that same aura of fear. I mean you did topple a true savage; despite his “noble” trappings, like Rider to get the win. And what a win it was. But it could have been so much more. You had him at your mercy and did not snap him up. You have all the tools but you lacked the final stroke: cruelty. Take my hand. Join me. Join Mordrad. Join us and see the world as it really is. Move past it vileness and see it for the virus infect cesspool of fools, fools like Paldian, it is. Join us and receive the kiss of destiny and the key to the kingdom of tomorrow.

Eddie holds out his hands in a very cordial and regal way; nearly bowing over in showing of respect and admiration to Lal Singh.

TBC: Lal Singh
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HARKERN TO MY RECKONING!


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LalSingh
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Hit-Naan-Lee
The crowd was split.

Many loved Mordrad, and his ilk, for being the enjoyable evil. Mordrad was Darth Vader, a villain to be cheered, and admired despite the tyrannical, despicable acts he visited upon others with his lot of dark minions. Thus, one half of the arena came up with a chant. OB-SID-IAN-SINGH! While the other half chanted a much easier, louder age old cry - NO! NO! NO! NO! Singh, slowly, raised the microphone, but remained silent, boring black wells into Cousin Eddie's eyes, searching for something that wasn't palpable, but knowable.

<Lal Singh>
‘You offer me much, Sir...‘

Lal Singh started, looking down at either the microphone, or the canvas beneath her feet. Then, she pitched her head up, flinging onyx hair back, eyes to the ceiling.

<Lal Singh>
‘But I am more than a "caramel and cream warrior" or a "true diamond in the ruff" as you compliment; I am the same force as your Kevin Mordrad. So much so that Jack Rider made me his projection of him, a proxy for your leader, Cousin Eddie...‘

Singh let that hang in the air, the crowd didn't necessarily pop, but their murmurs were evident. They could tell that Singh wasn't going to reach right off for the offered hand. They knew she had to make a case for herself before something as dangerous as the "Obsidian Order". How she conducted herself here was both intriguing, and baited, as Singh tended to conduct herself.

Furthermore, it would be short, and precise.

No minced words. Simply words that got to the point, as she had already done tonight. Two minutes barely given, but only to praise the man she beat and offer a challenge to someone else. Singh wasn't an orator, but very much the woman of action.

<Lal Singh>
‘I. AM.‘

The words were an exact pull from another powerful woman who proclaimed dominance several years back. It wasn't lost on the crowd that Lal Singh had just quoted Suerte "Dominar" Tafur. The DO-MI-NAR! chant actually went up moments after she uttered it. Pausing, she put her nose up in the air, smiled, and let them sound. Finally, when they had abated in their collective marking out over the direct usage, Lal Singh brought the microphone back to her lips.

<Lal Singh>
‘A better woman than myself brought that proclamation. A true monster, like your Kevin Mordrad, she was the Womanbeast. I myself am much the same creatures as they, Cousin Eddie; I do not need much. I arrived here alone, fought largel0y alone until recently. I am a monster unto myself, and you have Greg Samuel and Jack Rider to thank for that...‘


Singh dropped her eyes, leveling them on Cousin Eddie. There was a fury there.

<Lal Singh>
‘I fear your Mordrad, but not you, or his toadies...I find your's, and Stevens' interruptions insulting, so I will make myself very clear...‘

And Singh stepped up, nose to nose with Cousin Eddie now, eyes unblinking.

<Lal Singh>
‘THIS. IS. A. WRESTLING. RING.‘

She started, the crowd amping up their verbal volume.

<Lal Singh>
‘What I have on my shoulder is a title, one held by your ruler. By carrying on, you disrespect his near year long sacrifice to hold this belt, and everyone else who has held it, and those since who have fought for its respectability, and those who desire to pursue it still...‘

Lal Singh raised a hand, imitating repeatedly the ref gesture for the bell to be rang.

<Lal Singh>
‘I do not talk for my health, and I wrestle for my living wage; very shortly the bell will be rang, and either you or one of your minions better be in here to face me for this title...my soles desire to be planted in someone's chest...NOW!!!‘

TBC: Kingsman
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The look that takes hold of Cousin Eddie as Lal Singh speaks her mind is not one of anger or frustration. It is one of amusement. He and Mordrad alike admire that about Lal Singh; that fiery soul of feverious competitiveness and desire to dominate. Scar was valuable because he was loyal and coldly calculating; a shark on the blood trail on might say. Maxwell was ambitious and fiery himself; a ticking bundle of nerves and passions that could barely be contained or predicted. When, and not if, Lal Singh would complete and submit to the Obsidian Order she would be the last truly missing piece; a sensual but seriously superior beast of a human; equally beautiful as she was dangerous. As smile crossed his face, Eddie retracted his hand and spoke calmly and softly.

Have it your way madame. Let that fury, let that fire roll forward. That is what we want. That is what you need. And someday soon, by hook or crook, you will see it our way and join us. Till then we’re…

The lights cut out for a moment with a bright flash followed by a absolute darkness. When light cut back on; Eddie is standing outside; flanked by on either side by Scar Shadow and Maxwell Alexander . Standing before Lal Singh now is Kevin Mordrad . His mask is a refined malachite half mask. He is dressed in slim black and emerald suit; the UD title hung mightlly around his waist. With a cruel smile he finishes the response that Eddie had begun.

Happy to oblige your request. So pick your poison dearie. My painted madman or my reptilian degenerate?

With a smile, Mordrad steps back; leaving the way clear for Lal Singh to make her choice.

TBC: Lal Singh
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HARKERN TO MY RECKONING!


Former: 1 x Internet Champion, Current: Undisputed Champion
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LalSingh
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Hit-Naan-Lee
Lal Singh regarded Mordrad, and Mordrad only; as she stated before, she feared the man, at least to an extent. She appeared uneasy, flighty before him, but held her ground never the less. The crowd was again, split, calling either SCAR, or MAX. Noticing this, Singh's eyes moved from side to side in indication of the divided audience opinion on who she should face. Raising her left hand, indicating Scar Shadows' supporters being louder caused the those in favor of Max to pick-up their vocal barrage.

Soon, Singh looked like an orchestral conductor, hands feathering the air, arms raising and lowering intricately until she balled fists around the microphone, closing her eyes briefly, then opening them. They were focused on Mordrad, looking dead into his eyes.

<Lal Singh>
‘This crowd made me, has chosen me, and chosen for me; they want both, so I will take them both!‘

Commentary had a conniption fit as the arena crowed approval of the ballsy choice. Waiting for them to abate, Singh brought the microphone back up to her lips.

<Lal Singh>
‘Handicap Match for the Internet Championship; whoever pins or taps me out walks away wearing it!‘

Commentary aghast, they called for a commercial break.

Car Commercial

Target Ad

Kay Jewelers

Car Commercial

New Heart Stopper Burger at Age old Burger Chain

Car Commercial

Annnd...


<Josh Brunswick>
‘We're back folks!‘

The bell rang, and Singh left her corner. Starting for the Obsidian Knights was Scar Shadows, the two circled, doing occasional lurches at each other, trying to fake one another out. The camera panned away briefly to show Mordrad at the top of the tron right before the ramp, seated on a throne composed of ghastly crafted skulls. Like some Dark Ruler, or a pro wrestling equivalent to the old doctor doom, he watched with both machinations in his head, and amusement.

There was plans for Singh.

<Josh Brunswick>
‘For those of you just tuning in-‘

Doug cutting of Josh here.

<Doug Smith>
‘Singh made yet another stupid move!‘

<Josh Brunswick>
‘As I was saying, Lal Singh has put her title on the line against both of Kevin Mordrad's Obsidian Knights in a handicap match-up; Kevin Mordrad watches with wrapped interest from the PRW TRON!‘

<Doug Smith>
‘And in style! That throne must have cost a fortune for our new UNDISPUTED CHAMPION!‘

Finally, Scar and Singh collided into a tie-up, Singh digging the mat with the force of her powerful legs to stabilize but height and wait were definitely advantages in Scar Shadows' favor. The heavier male musculature saw to the conclusion as he pushed Singh back a step, then shoved her back into a stagger against the ropes. Rebounding back, Singh ducked a hard haymaker from Scar, and cinched up his arm when he swung about.

Dropping her forearm down on the Annular Ligament, she forced the elbow to bend Scar's forearm up while she gripped and pressed against the back of the limb's corresponding hand, creating pressure on the wrist. Bracing her shoulder against his chest, Singh planted a bent knee into Scar's footing, and used the other stretched out behind her as a support.

Scar Shadows was stuck in a proverbial bear trap with two joints being worked.

<Doug Smith>
‘Despite her arrogant, reckless rookie mentality, that move right there shows a technical understanding that's blossoming.‘

<Josh Brunswick>
‘Shades of her coach, now at ringside, Haruna Urashima; Urashima wrestling technique is firmly grounded in joint manipulation, and foot work. Singh has shown herself to be both a quick study, and adaptable on the fly. She's sapping rather than gassing so she can stay in this...and I'll give your due here, Doug, seemingly no win situation.‘

Hammering down on Singh's back, Scar could not generate enough force in the close quarters to tremble Singh. But he had his knees, and he had his hardcore past, not to mention boxer skills. Scar Shadows was as good in a clinch as any.

He would find a way out.

TBC: Kingsman
Edited by LalSingh, Mar 10 2018, 08:53 AM.
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KingsMan
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Scar was in the proverbial rock and hard place. Lal Singh had him locked in tight with the elbow/wrist lock comboed with knelt stance. He could barely move without his arm screaming in pain and the pressure was only ramping up; Lal Singh showing why she had less than season under her belt in this place but already was a respected competitor and a champion. Scar knew this and did not second guess the danger he was in.

Yet he still smiled.

And why did he smile? Why was his painted face stretched at the corner in what seemed like glee.Because like any good snake that gets stuck in the rocks; Shadow knew he could slithered his way free in time. And now was the time. Equal parts mad courage and split brained sycophantism; Scar actually feeds into Lal Singh's hold, letting her get it deeper and deeper; reeling him down towards her.

And then like a viper he stikes, smash his face into the top of Singh’s head; slowly at first due to limit range. Yet with each hit, the gap grows a half inch and the blows only get faster and harder. Blow upon blow dizzies the Lioness of PRW; making her well laid plan crumble little by little. It only get more out of whack once Scar frees himself, lobs a knee into Singh’s chin then quickly wraps her up and drop her down with a SS Pain.

Shadow’s ascent is slow; his elbow and wrist throbbing as his heart sung. Surprisingly, despite the hard impact she had just received, Lal Singh gets to her feet. Still shaking his arm out, Scar does not notice this, And Lal Singh see this and looks for a massive leg lariat. But Scar is not as unaware as one might think, pulling a Neo and ducking the corded and coil legs of Singh with ease.

This makes the Rookie of Rajasthan misses her mark. Though to her credit, the athletic young woman hits the mat and rolls through the miss. Looking for rebound clothesline, Singh is thoroughly disappointed as Shadow fires out sudden and stun gun shocking Down the Lane superkick that takes the running Internet champion off her feet and flat backed to the mat. Contemplating for a moment what to do, Scar goes for discreationa and walk over to tag in Maxwell.

Slinking into the ring, Alex prowls around Lal Singh and starts dropping stiff boots on any piece of flesh that he can get, putting special attention to head and shoulder area. Trying her best to cover up, Singh cannot find reprieve the cold, calculating and crushing blows for the Night Dragon Maxwell Alexander.

Brunswick: A quick turnaround in this one. Singh was building steam and had a solid game plan but Scar’s sadism has taken it all away. And now Maxwell seems to be reaping the rewards

Smith: Great looks for greatness Brunny. Mordrad does not surround himself with lotus and losers. He wants killers and Scar Shadow and Maxwell Alexander are just that. Cold blooded merchs with bad attitude and a growing bond under one man; the Undisputed Champion and the chilling figure sitting in throne literally made of skull at the top of the ramp: Kevin Mordrad


Showing the heartedness you would expect from man that seems more reptile than reputable man, Maxwell keeps the pressure up, driving Lal Singh out of the ring eventually and to the floor. Looming inside, Maxwell glares around and beats his chest; drinking up the mat from the rumbling crowd around him as he flicks in tounge between blackishly stained teeth. Lal Singh meanwhile is sitting on the very edge of the outside of the ring, wincing in pain as she is coached a bit by Urashima.

As she gets a brief lesson, she is internally cursing herself for maybe biting off more than she could chew after such a big match and breaking match at Salvation. Lal Singh was capable and very skilled, yet she was starting to think that maybe she had just gone to far this time. But that is the least of her worries. Done with the crowd, Alex goes over to where Lal Singh is sitting and ducks under the ropes and attempts to drag her back into action.

TBC: Lal Singh
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LalSingh
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<Josh Brunswick>
‘Notable non interference from Haruna Urashima; notorious in her day for the run-in attack that has literally shifted balances in power, she ops to play by the rules in regards to Singh and her matches.‘

<Doug Smith>
‘A show of maturity and respect. Even at Salvation, she only intervened after Wire attempted to, so I'll give her kudos for the new ethics.‘

At the apron, Singh stonewalled. Sticking out one of her muscular stocks of a leg, she halted Maxwell, and elbowed back, repeatedly, into his chest and stomach area. The peppering of sudden, unexpected blows caused Maxwell to fold and stoop. Singh wrapped his neck with a headlock style hold, brought her leg down, then lunged forward.

The impromptu maneuver drove the top of Maxwell's head into the wood and steel banding of the apron side of the ring, the only cushion being the apron skirt. Maxwell flopped backwards to the floor while Singh collided an arm into the ring, stagger off the impact.

<Josh Brunswick>
‘Desperate, and unorthodox, yet highly effective, Singh has gotten some breathing room to recover.‘

Rolling into the ring, Singh stood and shook her head, clearing cobwebs, then rubbed her right arm. Maxwell stirred on the outside, Scar Shadows pitching a verbal imperative at him to get up before the ref finished his count. Watching with a bit more of a perceivable lean in was Kevin Mordrad, Cousin Eddie speaking from his right into his mask covered ears like one of Odin's wise fowl. Mordrad appeared to chuckle, making a quick point in Singh's general area in the ring. Cousin Eddie nodded emphatically and smiled wide.

Singh looked up the ramp, pointed over at Maxwell, then directed that finger at Mordrad; she wagged it, saying no-no, then turned her attention to the Dragon as he rolled into the ring at FIVE. She wagged the finger at him. A challenge for him to do worse. The crowd loved the braggadocio of Lal Singh, and gave her a solid wall of sound for it. Approving sound.

Mordrad smiled ever wider.

His own intense eyes seemed to gleam when the camera gave the viewership a close-up of them. They took Singh in in mores ways then one could take a woman, or any human being for that matter. They consumed her back-step, and flowing grace. The spurting power of her mighty thew. The sort of harried glee of her facial expression.

Singh loved to fight.

Singh loved it when it was a challenge.

And Mordrad, in his dark mind and heart, loved her for being her perhaps. Loved how she countered Maxwell's headlong charge with a timely Drop Toe Hold. Singh quickly shot up into a lunge that put her into a position to apply a tight Headlock on Maxwell, who, battled the situation vertical, then shoved her off into the ropes, taking her to the floor from the rebound with a shoulder block. Going for the elbow drop, Singh rolled clear, popping up just in time for Scar Shadows to tag her from behind with a stiff driven blow to the back of her head.

Faltering forward, Singh was unprepared for Maxwell. He put boots to her midsection, then shot some forearms into her face, backing her into the ropes. Whipping her, Maxwell dropped low for the major lift, which turned out to be Singh lifting the top of her booted foot into his face. Planting the lifted foot, Singh stepped through with it to drive a front kick to Maxwell's stomach, then hooked his head when he doubled. The snap was a blink of a moment.

The DDT shook the ring. Mordrad recoiled with a surprised expression on his lips, which pursed, then split to reveal a row of white, the corners curling up so that the pink of his gums showed.

He clapped his hands together.

<Doug Smith>
‘Mordrad is enjoying this match as much as this Canadian crowd!‘

<Josh Brunswick>
‘There's something terribly unwholesome about that, Doug...‘

Singh went for the cover, but Maxwell wasn't near anymore. Having the in ring wherewithal, he'd rolled to his corner and tagged in Scar Shadows. He came in hot, tagging Singh repeatedly in the face with fast right jabs, backing her into a rope assisted retreat. Scar pressed harder with clubbing blows that found her into the corner. Scar worked some body shots until the referee forced the break.

Singh staggered listlessly from out of the corner and into an Arm Drag, Scar Shadows locking in the keep with a spiffy Arm Bar. Singh struggled on the canvas, reaching up to clasp her wrist, then got her feet beneath her. They rose together, Scar breaking her grip and counter her pressure alleviation with a tight Wrist Lock. Then, he ran her towards the ropes, the intent being to toss her to the outside, but Singh hopped up early, feet landing on the top rope. With the bounce back she twisted backwards while clasping her opponent's wrist.

She landed in a crouch, the fulcrum effect of which wrist tossed Scar Shadows into a roll. He jumped back up and right into a FRONT THRUST KICK TO THE CHEST! The crowd gave an ovation for the simple signature as Scar crumbled, then rolled to the outside of the ring gasping for the air forced from his lungs.

<Josh Brunswick>
‘One can never count her out. Lal Singh has more comeback in her than a boomerang!‘

Again, Mordrad leaned in, eyes squinting to narrow slits.

TBC: Kingsman
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Standing up outside,Scar’s head ping ponged back and forth as his chest heaved in pain. Lal Singh had struck a solid blow to him and he was feeling it. But he knew that defeat was not an option and surrender was even less of one. With Mordrad sitting and watching, both of his minions needed to put on a showing of dominance. They needed to prove their worth and worthiness lest that we discarded and thrown to the wind. Scar could not be sure of Maxwell’s interior, but Scar knew he never wanted to be forgotten and discarded again. He never wanted to be left alone...to the voices.

Brunswick: And with a stunning display of athleticism and grit, Singh seems to be back in control, even managing to keep Scar and Maxwell on their toes.

Smith: Lal Singh, in a short amount of time, has shown a lot of talent and a win tonight, against a much more game and PRW vet like Shadow and well as wild card like Maxwell could give her that momentum to cement her name around here as a serious competitor and be a welcome start to her title reign.



Lal Singh hangs on the edge of the ring on the inside, weigh whether she should let discretion to bare and leave Scar to recover on the outside or whether she should keep the pressure up. The decision is soon made for her. Coming out of nowhere, Maxwell puts a boot to her chin, all in defense of his compatriot on the outside. This get the ref over who warns Maxwell to not do that again but the damage is done. Lal Singh is dazed and on her heels; leaving an opening for Scar to return to the ring for some payback.

Scar is quick on the attack; flying through the air with a stiff looking dropkick that make Lal Singh fall to the mat. Rolling out the moves, Scar keeps his momentum going, not wanting give a deeply pained Singh room to breath. This results in the dropkick being followed up with a crushing running knee to the back of Lal Singh’s head. Looking down at the still heavily dazed and pain foggy foe; Scar make a snap decision and tags in Alexander; who in turn goes up for a little high risk/high reward action; climbing up to the top rope and looming like looming dragon over the still down femme fatale.

Standing tall, Scar assume a martyr like position and then flies; coming off the top with corkscrew senton. His move is bold but perhaps too bold. He misses his mark; due largely to Singh finding a little life at least enough to roll just right of Alexander’s oncoming form. Hitting the mat with splat; he is stunned by the impact: just the opening that much beguiled and worked over rookie needed. Hip scooting over; she goes for pin; only getting two before Maxwell slings a shoulder up off the mat to save him sinful and smash up self.

Rolling to his back; the Rajput Lioness looks a little devastated by Scar’s knee out but not so much so that she does arch herself up and to her feet. Breathing a rapid series of shallow breaths; the carmel warrioress rotates and stretches out her shoulder as she waits for Maxwell to come to life; which he does soon after; sitting up suddenly ala Undertaker. Yet, despite the intimidation factor Singh is unphased and goes on the attack; hooking a stiff running shin kick right into the back of Alex. A rush of pained air erupts from his horse throat as Singh rides the momentum; rebounding off the ropes and catch a still wincing Maxwell with low slung rebound dropkick.

Decking the deranged grappler, Singh quickly drops down and tries to rolling him up; getting a long two but nothing more. Hooking the legs again, this time she only gets a one. Releasing that she had not tenderized enough the reptilian madman enough to get send packing, Singh rolls to her feet and lays in wait for him to arise so that she can make him fall courtesy of a Bhakti Kick. With patience and tact; she waits until the perfect moment; Alexander woozily getting to his knees. In a flash; Singh charges for her strike; only to have Maxwell bound up to his feet and catch her mid stride in a falling face to knee breaker.
Bouncing off the mat, Lal Singh looks to be knocked out cold. Maxwell done well and he knew it; bowing towards a now clapping and much amused Mordrad; who was eying the ring and the Rookie of Rajasthan with hungry eyes and a amused grin.

TBC: Lal Singh
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After his posturing to his master, Maxwell went for the cover as an anxious Haruna watched from the apron. Maxwell hooked the leg, and rocked his head with each slap to the mat, but didn't get to rock it thrice. Singh rocketed a shoulder up just before the referee slapped the mat for the third time.

The official held up two fingers to the crowd, and two fingers to Maxwell when he vocalized complaint. Punching the mat, Maxwell dragged Singh up, began a whip, but then snapped it back for a short-arm Clothesline, to which Singh ducked her head and proffered her shoulder, burying it into Maxwell's stomach. Staggering back, bent at the waist, a knelt Singh reached out as she lunged upwards. Scooping his head and shoulders she threw herself backwards for the SNAP SUPLEX!

The crowd gave up excitement on the tails of a chorus of heat as Singh stood up slowly, and wobbly. Still, ever the braggadocio, she smiled and crouched down, offering an open hand to the dazed Maxwell.

<Doug Smith>
‘Singh just can't herself!‘

<Josh Brunswick>
‘She'll take a physical hit, but Maxwell is going to take the psychological one here.‘

<Doug Smith>
‘Simple moves, simple psychology; the reason Singh's so effective lay in her ability to to keep things basic, grounded territory; things she understands.‘

Maxwell, predictably, reached up and slugged her to another chorus of heat. Singh recoiled backwards, falling into the ropes and taking the top one down a little too far. The pop back spring trapped her between the top and middle ropes. Entangled she couldn't cover herself from the barrage that came down from Maxwell's clubbing hands. The official had to forcibly push the Dragon off of Singh, shouting a reprimand and several invective remarks before turning his attention to Singh.

Maxwell fuming, he stepped and shoved the ref aside, and closed himself right into Singh's leg range. The following snap-clap sound had the crowd wincing as Maxwell flopped sideways, the latest victim of the Bhakti Kick. Struggling, Singh managed to get free of the ropes, dropping to her knees and waving in place. She needed to recover, and while she did, Maxwell crawled to his corner to tag in a fresher Scar Shadows.

Charging in, he prepared his offensive volley...only for Singh to roll to the outside. Scar looked perplexed, watching with confused eyes as Lal Singh walked along, hand gracing the apron skirt as she went, looking a bit dizzy and unstable. Scar waited, waited until he had a point blank target centered in the apron, then went in for the kill. He dropped into a slide, a Baseball Slide, impact seeming immanent until Singh lurched sideways with a handful of the apron skirt.

Scar Shadows found himself trapped behind it, wide open for Singh, who drummed his head and shoulders with knifing elbow strikes. Scar rocked and rattled in place to the roar of the crowd, Singh getting a good number off before the official stepped in. Mordrad's amusement hadn't ceased for a moment, in fact, Cousin Eddie was pouring him a glass of Sangue di Giuda!

<Josh Brunswick>
‘Shades of Finlay there with the apron!‘

<Doug Smith>
‘Shades of MATURITY, Josh; Singh will never be intricate beyond one note, but she uses only what works, there's a wisdom in that which I have to give her credit for!‘

Back in the ring, Singh looked up the ramp, and saw Mordrad grinning. He gregariously offered a toast to her and indulged in his wine as Singh turned her attention back to a stumbly Scar Shadows.

TBC: Kingsman
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