CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
đź“… June 29th, 2005
Duran Cortez was in the ring, mic in hand, smug grin stretching ear to ear.
"You saw what I did last week. That's the power of a real BWF legend. Malik Smith might be the 'Tribal Chief' to his fanboys, but to me? He's just a highlight reel waiting to happen."
The boos were deafening.
Then—
🔥 "TRIBAL WAR" hit the speakers.
The crowd EXPLODED.
Malik stormed out from the tunnel, no smile, no hesitation—pure fury in motion. No music cut-off. No slow walk. Just sprinting down the ramp like a predator unleashed.
He slid into the ring.
Duran swung the mic—missed.
đź’Ą SUPERMAN PUNCH!
đź’Ą RKO!
The crowd went nuclear.
Security rushed in. Malik floored the first three with another Superman Punch and two RKOs in a blur of violence.
Duran scrambled to his feet and struck—
đź’Ą Signature Snap Spinebuster
đź’Ą REGAL CUTTER!
He dropped three more guards cold.
The ring was a battlefield.
The General Manager rushed out with a mic:
"ENOUGH! GET THEM APART—GET—THEM—APART!!"
More wrestlers poured in to restore order. Malik was held back by six men. So was Duran.
But the fire wasn't out.
Malik scanned the scene—then smirked.
BOOM! RKO on one of the wrestlers holding him.
đź’Ą SUPERMAN PUNCH on another.
đź’Ą SUPERKICK to the third.
Bodies dropped like flies.
He ran, climbed the top turnbuckle—
FLYING CROSSBODY TO THE OUTSIDE!
He crashed onto the cluster of wrestlers—and directly onto Duran.
The audience ROARED.
"BWF! BWF! BWF!"
Malik rose from the wreckage, dragging Duran up by the hair. He looked to the announce table.
The crowd knew what was coming.
POWERBOMB THROUGH THE TABLE!
đź’Ą CRACK! đź’Ą
Table shattered. Duran motionless.
Malik stood tall, breathing heavily, fire in his eyes.
Then he raised one finger to the sky.
The arena followed.
"ACK-NOWL-EDGE HIM!" they roared in unison.
[End of Chapter 37 – "Chaos Unleashed"]