The Forbidden Match: Part II

Ding, ding, ding!

The confused wrestlers among the fire and flames had their largest audience ever watching their every motive. John Cena took a glance into 'Taker's dead eyes, then at the 30th Wrestlemania Sign, hanging just above this crowd. The Undertaker, his sullen pupils locked onto Cena's belt, there wasn't a doubt in the dead man's mind that was about to become his, as he has never lost a match. Not one, not ever here at Wrestlemania.

Not a word was spoken as Cena started his signature lunging; just one of his "five moves of doom." The Undertaker stepped aside and let the World Heavyweight Champion of RAW ram his head in the cage; the hot metal scorched his skull.

"There's no way Vince would even think about putting me through this..." John thought to himself, recovering from the early impact.

In a match unlike any other, there was no words at all; not being exchanged from the gladiators, the announcers, the audience. All in a state of shock, bewildered and refraining from missing a single motive.

The ring was getting warmer, the smoke was rising higher. The Undertaker was relentless; taking every opportunity the poster boy was down to beat upon his already battered skull, till blood stroked his heavy hands. When Cena was able to counter, the audience was a golden, illuminated blur. He heard muffled chants and callings, and took his chance to try out his Five Knuckle Shuffle. The dead man was stunned, but not down.

"Let's go Cena!" Shouted the children and women Cenation army.

"CENA SUCKS!" Responded the larger, male audience in attendance.

The top ropes burned, but 'Taker's boots extinguished the flames, he was about to go "Old School," on new century Cena. Catching air, Cena ran away to free his grip, as The Undertaker landed on the steaming mat. The pain looked unbearable, but some way, some how, the dead man rose once more. Cena rolled his eyes and tried to pull another move from his set list.

"Two out of five." He thinks, ready to perform his side release power bomb. Something was odd about the phenom of the arena; it was like he was born again, from that different era. His moves were zombie like, nothing seemed to phase him. Just like his early days; facing monsters like Giant Gonzales, Big Show, his own demented, masked brother. He pounded them all, and he was determined to take Cena with them.

John jobs at this mammoth of a man; seven feet tall, three hundred pounds. Yet, the agility he had was unbelievable, for a man of his size and stature. Maybe he really wasn't a mortal man...

A half an hour had gone by, and this crowd was getting restless. This was no holds barred, sweat and scars visible on John's bare chest, 'Taker's boots and outfit smouldered by the flames. There was no choice now but to give them a show to remember. A chair in one hand, Cena started on the climb up the cage. On the opposite side, 'Taker took no form of weaponry, but followed Cena up.

"How is this possible?! It's hotter than hell in that cage!" Shouted J.R. Surely the hot metal would have burnt their open fingers and tattered wear. They were risking it all, their health, their condition, their lives for the sake of pure entertainment.

A long, vigorous climb until the top is reached at last; the crowd responds with a deafening roar. The wrestlers couldn't see their faces, but loud shrieks in the midst of the inferno. They wait eagerly for the first man to make his move, seeing who will go over first. Cena inches closer with the chair, 'Taker backs down, not taking a moment to look behind him.

Cena makes his move, landing the chair directly on the skull of The Undertaker. The crack echoes around the now still arena, subtle gasps heard every so often. His pupils wander about in a daze, before the whites of his eyes unfold once more. He grasps the champion by the throat, lifting the man like a rag doll. He lifts him higher, and does a move that he hasn't in years...since that attitude era.

The Last Ride.

Cena is airborne, and falls, tens of feet, crashing from the top of the cage through the announcers booth. Surely this audience wasn't seeing the things they did; impact like this would of been censored. It was a PG show after all, was it not?

Blood, fire, and steel cages. It was as attitude as it can be, and this crowd was all for it. What they've been waiting for, rebelling about for years; wishing for this to come back after decades; and now their champion was slayed through a table by the man who held the streak. The world held it's breath as 'Taker made the leap after him, diving to batter this champion further.

"Oh...shit...." Michael Cole stammered, and TV programmers didn't bother cutting a moment out. This wasn't just a match. This was a revolution in wrestling entertainment itself.

Both wrestlers on their breaking point, they could only take so much pain, so much hurt, so much fire. Neither made a movement in quite such time after this impact; and after awhile stretchers were brought forth to the ring. 'Taker rolled over and resisted the men offering the end of it. He was not going down without winning this fight, and pinning the champion for three.

'Taker was the first to get himself up and inch towards the ring. Cena limped soon after, and they stood as they started, squaring off in front of the thousands here; and the millions watching at home.

John got himself together, and did an unexpected STFU, locking his arms around the dead mans neck with all the strength he could muster. The Undertaker pulled himself towards the ropes, but Cena brought him back to the center. Hardly anyone countered this submission hold, and The Deadman had yet to tap out or give himself up in a single match of his twenty year career. Would he tap, and lose his perfect streak? Give it up to the poster boy who held all the WWE at his fingertips?

Five straight minutes of this agonizing pain, and 'Taker resisted any motive of surrender. There was something...that had to end this and for good.

"Ooooohhhh...YYEEEEESSSS!" Was the distant voice. The urn. Those ashes, it gave him possession of that otherworldly strength...

He stood himself up, Cena's arms still strapped around his neck, and positioned him for a Chokeslam. He let him suffer before marking the beginning of the end. John brought himself up in a rampage; everyone tapped to his submission! He didn't even need his finisher...

There was no choice. He couldn't just be knocked out like the twenty one before him. He took a quick cheap shot to the nose, and the demon from death valley was on his knees once more. Energy quickly slipping from both men, Cena ceased the moment to taunt the dead man. He waved his hand in front of his face, just as his logo, "You can't see me!" He used his remaining strength and stamina to give the American Bad Ass an "Attitude Adjustment." He pinned him;

"ONE! TWO! OOOHHHHH!" 'Taker remarkably kicked out in the nick of time, and Cena was damn right pissed. What would it take?! Already three moves from his set list, including his powerful finisher and submission, and this demon wouldn't give it up!

"FUUUUUCKKKKKK!" Cena cried, and the WWE Universe heard it. Here he was, a representative for the younger crowd, batched in scars and resentment.

"What did John just say?!" Vince had the motive to fire his ass right when he walked down that ring for breaking the unspoken code on air. But surely he saw the pain himself; his flesh was being burnt off and bruised all at once. What would put down nearly his every challenge, all the competition he had, wasn't even phasing the dead man.

"YOU CAN'T SAY THAT! YOU CAN'T SAY THAT!" This crowd was in hysteria, upon hearing and seeing the impossible. He landed another flying shoulder block, pinned him, kick out. Another drop punch, pin, kick out. This battle was inexcutable, who knew if there would be a winner this time around?

Cena rose to his feet, ready to make a final move. This needed to be ended, and now. He taunted the dead man once more; only to get a lock on the throat. The Undertaker rose; towering over the champion, unforgiving, and inhuman. Except this time wasn't the signature Tombstone Piledriver that ended his every match. He turned around, locked his legs in place, and locked in the most devastating submission in all of WWE.

Hell's Gate.

It literally was; locked in a cage, hellish temperatures, pain, nothing but piercing, throbbing, misery. Cena's motto was, "Never Give Up." He couldn't tap. Not for the sake of his company, the PG WWE...

Except, that all changed today. This monumental day marked the start of a change. After witnessing such a gruesome 'Mania, taking the same fall Mankind had, using profanity to the likings of Stone Cold Steve Austin, making the audience question themselves, this day, the pure dismay of everyone watching. Nothing was censored, and held back. There was tables, ladders, chairs, cages, axes, engulfment in fire and blood. He felt his body detaching, and he wanted this back more than this audience did. That wonder, amazement of an every day, unpredictable match. They weren't getting that with this era.

Maybe they will with a new one. But not without sacrifice. The poster boy gave himself to the company, to the druids, to his fans, to The Undertaker, as he ended the pain and tapped into submission.

Ding, ding, ding!

Both men lied exhausted, beaten, bruised, rolling out of the hellish arena. Cena left in a stretcher, waving to his audience. He had let his crowd down, losing to the Grim Reaper of the WWE, but there was no way he, or anyone that stared into his eyes on Wrestlemania day, could claim a victory.

"Here's your winner...THE UNDERTAKEEERRRRR!" A match so long, no room for any other matches on the bill. But this crowd, and everyone watching, was more than satisfied. After thirty years of wrestling, this was the match they would remember, pass onto their kids, change the course of WWE history.

Fireworks lit up the dark, stormy sky, as the screen lit up above him; 22-0. 'Taker bowed and struck a signature pose he retained for years; one knee bent, tongue sticking out, eyes rolled back. Maybe this was the start of something even more amazing; a change in the rating, in daily matches.

"You changing the rating, now?" The eager, excited writers approached Vince McMahon, proud of a job well done.

Ratings higher than ever before, maybe this was doing more good than harm for his establishment.

"I have no choice." He stammered, taking a new charge after witnessing his Forbidden Match.