[Nicolas L Blair]

 (Author’s note:  The inspiration for the fan being chronicled about in these postings is real.  The names and the focuses of her insane fixation have been changed to keep her from finding out about this and harassing me.  Nonetheless, this is an actual person and this dramatization is close enough to reality that you should be very concerned.  Stay tuned to see where this goes…and remember how awful the internet can be.)

The following reaction was published online last week on a fan blog.

BlairPunkFish.blogspot.com

Nicolas L Blair.  CM Punk.  Bobby Fish.  Reviews of matches, programs, backstage politics, attire and merch.  Good men who do bad things are my jam.  I am the superfan your mother warned you about.

April 10, 2017
Published at 2:34 am

Nicolas L Blair’s SCW Ring Return!!!!

My thoughts and opinions on Blair’s return to action in SCW are under the cut.

(read more…)

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So forewarned, you clicked on the link….


Over two years.  That’s how long it’s been since Nicolas L Blair stepped into an SCW Wrestling Ring.  In that time, I’ve watched him play the long game on the Southern Indy scene and internationally, most notably his stops in CZW, DDT and Georgia Pro and the big blowup there regarding the religious protest thing.  

(Which is still one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever had to deal with watching as a fan but I digress)

Real talk here; I don’t think we’re ever going to see the Ward vs Blair rematch that we as fans DESERVE to see, I’m talking a lights-out, unsanctioned, no holds barred, brawl-to-end-all-brawls match.  And sure, some of you are saying “But hey, BlairPunkFish, didn’t their last match pretty much put the whole thing to bed” and I say to you that you’re NOT a real fan if that’s what you think.  You don’t own the ‘FIGHT FOREVER’ limited edition tee shirt. Actually, I own two because the first one came and it shrunk when I put it in the wash so I called customer service and told them what shoddy merchandise they were pushing on people for a limited edition tee and managed to get them to send me another one for free.  Current SCW customer service is the worst, btw – but I’ll talk more about THAT fiasco later in this blog post.

But as it goes, Nicolas L’s return on Climax Control was…I guess it was fine.  Everyone else keeps telling me it was great, but I know better than them that it was just fine.  I’d give it a solid 5.5 out of 10.  The match was actually on the shorter side (no 30+ minute classics on Climax Control this week I guess, lol) but Nic saw a lot of offense in the middle of the ring while Jessie and Chelsea took care of the brawling aspect on the outside.  It was interesting to see that Nic’s sticking with a mat-based offense in SCW instead of the straight up toe-to-toe brawl that I’ve seen he gives opponents that aren’t worth his time.  (Looking at you, Yoshihiko)  Xander Bishop was a good opponent for a comeback match.  He’s smugly punchable, lol.  

The most interesting part of the match was after the tapout victory, when Blair took things a step further and smashed Xander’s foot in a chair.  YESSSSSS.  Okay?  THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!

Blair escalating things and sending a message to the rest of the roster that you need to pay attention to him.  I would have preferred to see him follow through on his promise to bite Xander’s nose off, but I guess for a first match return this was worth it.

But now let’s get to the bad; the overall presentation.  I don’t know if SCW just endured some budget cuts (where can I find out what kind of salary Ward and Underwood are pulling?  Does SCW have a corporate website?  You can bet I’ll be poking around) or what, but Blair’s entrance was BO.  RING.  No flames, no pyro, not even dry ice?  Even CZW sprung for dry ice and a back light!  This entrance reminded me of that disastrous run in the American Wrestling Federation Blair had when they used Comic Sans as the font on his entry video.  The generic ‘heavy metal’ Tubular Bells was embarrassingly awful, how could anyone like that?  Blair wasn’t smoking his traditional cigarette coming to the ring (have fire marshals finally clamped down on that?) and HE STILL HAS THAT RONALD MCEVA MARIE CLOWN RED HAIR.  I will NEVER accept that look as befitting the fallen angel Satan in human form!  It’s just ridiculous.  You may as well say Eva Marie is the devil.

(Look, if you’re the ONE Eva Marie fan who keeps commenting on my blog, knock it the fuck off, next time I’m reporting your IP to Blogspot to get you banned, I am not even kidding)

So, remember last week in my blog when I mentioned looking up SCW’s customer service page?  I sent them an email giving them valuable feedback about how they are serving their customers.  I got back what seems like just the most insulting, dismissive, garbage “response” possible.  Look at this thing:

[Nicolas L Blair]

 ((the forum won't let me post this whole thing in one go, so here's the rest of the rp))

*****
A different world, indeed.

Yokohama Radient Hall.  The arena was small, but completely packed with Japanese fans.  They were more polite and not raucous as their American counterparts.  Respectful applause was more common as they watched each match, though they has adopted some of their Western neighbors’ chants as the night goes on.

“This is Awe-some!”  *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

“This is Awe-some!”  *clap clap clap-clap-clap*

Backstage, there was a service door that led outside.  This is where the arena maintenance staff brought out the trash to toss into the fragrant dumpsters sitting in a slim alley.  Nicolas L Blair stood next to the doorway, a tiny red light igniting near his lips as he inhaled vapor flavored strong enough to quench the smell of the garbage heaped into the dumpster a few feet away.

“Hello, there.  Have you come to watch the show?”

He wasn’t speaking to any person in particular.  Rather, it seemed that one of the cats he’d disturbed earlier had followed him back into the city.  Or maybe it was a different stray, sniffing under the dumpster at some potential meal.

“I guarantee you it won’t be like any match I’ve had in a long time.”

The cat craned its head up towards him as he blew a few vapor rings lazily.  Someone poked their head out of the door at Nicolas.

“Five minutes.”

Blair nodded.  This federation was one of those ‘fragmented and specialized’ wrestling organizations, where things were done a little differently than the mainstream.  And even though it was his last appearance here tonight, Blair had earned himself a title shot.  The title was ostensibly a brutal one to earn; hardcore, anything-goes rules, on the line 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  As long as a referee was nearby, the titleholder could be attacked, whether it was an airport, in the middle of the street, or relaxing at home.

The consequence of this, then, was that Blair had no idea who the current champion was.  This little federation had big names coming and going all the time, in conjunction with its crop of homegrown talent.  The possibilities were endless.

Blair enjoyed this.

“On my way.” He replied, pocketing his e-cig.  As he stepped inside, he looked again at the dumpster where the cat had stood.

The cat was gone.  Apparently he wasn’t interesting enough to hold its attention span.  Oh, well.  It was time.  Nicolas took a deep breath.  He was about to change, once again.

****

“Booooo!” The fans booed loudly as Nicolas’s Japanese theme, “Rain” by Yoko Kanno and the Seatbelts started to play.  Dressed in shorts covered in flames, a t-shirt that depicted a tub of butter proclaiming “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S ACTUALLY SATAN” on the front, and wearing a bulbous red demon mask over his face, he stepped out from behind the curtain and soaked in the reaction.

“Introducing first..Onnniiiiiiiiiiiii Nicolaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssss!!” The ring announcer introduced Nicolas in English, as was his preference.  Here in Japan, he was just known as Oni Nicolas, the American Demon.  The surname ‘Blair’ was more difficult for the Japanese tongue to say, so this was a simple adjustment for his pacific audience.  Nicolas flipped up his mask, his face painted bright red and black to match its appearance, and sneered at the crowd as they booed again.  A few stalwart streamers bounced into the ring, and the referee busied himself cleaning them up.  

Blair leaned against the ropes and waited to see what opponent was the current titleholder.

“If you like pina coladas
And getting caught in the rain….”

Blair’s sneer faded.  He knew the Pina Colada song, and what it meant.  This match was going to be more difficult than he’d suspected.

“Champion…ELLLLLLL DONGGGGOOOOOO!”

Blair raised an eyebrow.  El Dongo?  Who was that?

His opponent stepped out from behind the curtain, wearing a white jacket and white boots, along with a floral patterned pair of trunks.  This 100% original creation who in no way could be confused with some other trademarked intellectual property removed the sunglasses over the luchadore mask that obscured his identity and possibly aided in preventing him from losing the 24/7 title before this matchup.  The masked mystery man took a lollipop out of his mouth.  El Dongo received a raucous mixed reaction from the crowd as he pointed at the title belt around his waist, and then rolled into the ring.  Streamers flew in as he began his pre-match ritual of choosing a lucky man in the audience to receive his lollipop and then proceeding to cover his body in baby oil.

Blair wasn’t going to stand for this showboating from El Dongo.  He grabbed the bottle of baby oil, causing a hushed reaction from the crowd.  To everyone’s shock, Oni Nicolas poured the entire contents into his mouth, and then spit it outward.  The mist suddenly turned into a fireball!  The oil ignited with a visible “WHOOMPF” before dissipating before the impressed crowd.

Magical powers?  Or the lighter that he may have concealed in a kneepad?  It was for the crowd to debate.

El Dongo, a visible smirk even though he was wearing a mask that clearly obscured his identity and prevented him from being a known, trademarked individual who may have been frowned upon to appear in this rp, took off his white pleather ring coat and handed the title to the timekeeper.  It was time to get down to business!

The bell rang!  The two titans of the ring circled each other in the center, preparing for a collar and elbow tieup.  The fans applauded politely as the men locked up, with El Dongo transitioning into a headlock on Oni Nicolas.  Suddenly, El Dongo released the headlock.

“Grab my dick.  C’mon, grab it!  I dare you!” He gestured southward as Oni Nicolas gawked at him in confusion.  For the briefest of seconds, did it seem like Nicolas was going to comply?  The fans all sharply inhaled.

“Fat chance!” Nicolas responded, shoulder tackling El Dongo back into the ropes.  As El D came ricocheting off, he ate a back body drop from the American Demon.  He hit the mat hard and grabbed at the small of his back.  Nicolas spun around and quickly followed it up, grabbing both of El Dongo’s arms from behind and stretching his lats, a knee drilling right in between El Dongo’s shoulder blades.

“Give up!” Nicolas shouted as El Dongo writhed in pain.  â€œSubmit!”

“Ow, NO!” El Dongo replied, struggling to his feet.  He turned himself around, breaking the hold, and kneed Nicolas in the solar plexus.  Nicolas doubled over, and El Dongo picked him up for a side suplex.  Nicolas hit the mat, smearing red face paint all over it.  Stunned, he was slow to turn over.  

El Dongo stomped him in the side once, twice, three times.  The smear was getting larger.  The champion paused for a moment to play to the crowd, and Nicolas rolled away from him to spare his side from further punishment.  In a corner, Nicolas used the ropes to pull himself up just as El Dongo, his arms spread wide, turned around.

“HrrrrAGH!” Nicolas turned him upside down and inside out with a satanic clothesline!  Breathing hard, Nicolas didn’t hesitate to follow it up by stooping down to drill knees into El Dongo’s chest.  He laid on top of the champ for the first pin attempt of the match.

1!  2!  No! El Dongo’s arm shot up, raising his shoulder off the mat.  Nicolas rolled off and pounded the mat in frustration.  He pulled El Dongo up to prepare for his next flurry of offense.  An irish whip to the corner sent El Dongo in, and Nicolas followed it up with a body splash.  El Dongo crumpled downward into a sitting position, allowing Nicolas to follow it up with two stiff kicks across the chest.  Pulling El Dongo to his feet, Nicolas mounted the turnbuckles and prepared to lay in some punches to the head.

The crowd counted along!

“ONE!  TWO!  THREE!  FOUR!  FIVE!  SIX!  SEVEN!  EIGHT!  NINE!” Before Nicolas could hit ten, El Dongo grabbed both of his legs and hoisted him up – a running powerbomb right into the middle of the ring!  Nicolas hit the mat and the wind was knocked out of him.  It gave El Dongo time to recover from the flurry of strikes he’d just absorbed.

Nicolas rolled over onto his stomach, a precaution in case El Dongo wanted to try a pin attempt.  As he worked his way up to his knees, though, he heard some sort of commotion coming from the entryway curtain-

“EL DONGO!  I’M COMING FOR YOU!” Nicolas looked up with shock.  Wearing a pair of loose fitting pants, a “Haus Hardcore” t-shirt and of course, a mask that guaranteed he was in no way some other, clearly trademarked character who would be frowned upon to appear in this rp, it was the icon of hardcore himself, Timmy Narcolepsy!  He burst through the curtain carrying a Singapore cane and dragging his own referee in tow.

“I’m going to have my OWN match with El Dongo, right now!” Timmy Narcolepsy roared, and the crowd applauded in approval.

“What?!” Nicolas protested out loud.  â€œThat’s not fair!”

“I have a referee, it’s legal!” Well…couldn’t argue with that.  Nicolas sneered and rolled out of the ring.  He flipped up the ring apron to look for an equalizer to go against the Singapore cane.

Bottles of soda?  Nah.

Stop sign?  Too unwieldy.  He tossed it into the crowd.

Ladder?  He pulled it out and the crowd started to buzz….but then he put it back.  

“That ladder had a safety label on it, wouldn’t want to violate safety standards!” Nicolas informed the disappointed crowd.  They booed him harder.  He continued pulling items out as Timmy Narcolepsy rolled into the ring to try to wear out El Dongo with the cane.  

There was sure a lot of crap underneath this ring.  Guitar full of powder…plastic sledgehammer…bullrope with a cowbell attached…boxed collection of mint in package anime girl toys in weird provocative positions…

“AHA!” Oni Nicolas had found the weapon that he preferred.  It was….an Easter display!  How had a wooden cross covered in little plastic Easter eggs found its way under a ring in Japan of all places?  That was really a question for theologians to debate at a different time.  Nicolas rolled into the ring and thus began a duel for the ages – Singapore cane versus upside-down-wooden-cross-held-like-a-sword.

“En guarde!” Nicolas yelled.  Timmy Narcolepsy responded with a swing.

CLACK!  

CLACK!

CLACK!

CLACK!

…okay, this wasn’t quite as epic as it originally promised to be.  Turns out that two sticks smacking against each other over and over makes a wrestling match feel like two 12 year old boys playing in the backyard.  One final CLACK! Hit hard and both wrestlers dropped their weapons, tending to their stinging hands.  

Nicoloas turned around… right into El Dongo, who whipped him up for a quick one-armed slam.  The upside down wooden cross skidded out of the ring, and El Dongo went for the cover.

1!  2!  NO!

Timmy Narcolepsy pulled El Dongo off of Oni Nicolas.  This was getting frustrating.  Nicolas rolled out of the ring just as El Dongo was back body-dropped out by Timmy Narcolepsy.  The two rivals were on the outside.

“Listen,” Nicolas told El Dongo.  â€œWe’re not going to settle OUR match until HIS is done.  Truce?!”

El Dongo considered for a brief moment, and then stuck out his hand.

“TRUCE!” The crowd applauded.  Never had they seen THIS before!  Suddenly, Oni Nicolas and El Dongo rose up together, both sliding into the ring.  It struck Timmy Narcolepsy that perhaps this was not what he had bargained for.

Nicolas punched Timmy Narcolepsy!  He staggered backwards, only to be punched by El Dongo!  He staggered backwards, only to be punched by Nicolas!  He staggered backwards, only to be punched by El Dongo!

This continued for far longer that could be considered dignified for Timmy Narcolepsy.

Finally on wobbly legs, the hardcore legend (or reasonable facsimile in a trademark-free mask that makes him available to be used in this rp) stood in the middle of the ring, and both El Dongo and Oni Nicolas reared back, taking their mark on the interloper.  Nailed in the chest with a bolo chop from El Dongo and in the back with a stiff front kick from Nicolas, Timmy Narcolepsy fell!  El Dongo went on him for the cover, and the second referee ran to make the count.

1!  2!  3!!!

El Dongo raised up his hands to celebrate his victory!  As the fans applauded, though, Nicolas grabbed him from behind and DRILLED him to the mat with a DDT!

“Arugh!” El Dongo yelled.  â€œWe had a truce!”

“What do you expect?!” Nicolas retorted, fortunately loud enough that the entire arena could hear.  â€œI’M THE FREAKING DEVIL!”

As Timmy Narcolepsy was helped to the back, the two men from the original match were back at each other.  It was a clubbering contest now, with both men trying to rain blows on each other.  El Dongo was getting the upper hand this time, but Nicolas managed to turn him around and lift him up, going for an atomic drop –

But NO!  It had no effect!  El Dongo stood straight up and Nicolas, shocked by the revelation that his move had caused zero damage to El Dongo’s southern regions, merely gaped!  This couldn’t be!  Nicolas dropped to his knees and decided to deliver a low blow – completely legal in this kind of match…

NO!  Again, it had no effect!  El Dongo roared as he stood erect, the glorious globes of his spandex-clad manparts feeling no damage at all from Nicolas’s legal-but-still-morally-objectionable attack.  

“What…what is this power?!” Nicolas proclaimed.  Every man had a weakness, after all!  That ONE weakness!  What could this be?  Desperate to build some momentum, Nicolas reached out to grab El Dongo by the trunks, perhaps to pull him in for another suplex.

But he missed!  Grabbing too low, Nicolas’s hand latched on to the one thing he hadn’t wanted to grab this entire match!  His hand grasped El Dongo’s titular parts, and it was as if an electric jolt of energy surged through his arm.

“HAH!” El Dongo stood tall as Nicolas writhed in agony, caught in the trap of his hand clamped on the Dongo Pequeno.  El Dongo hulked up, and another surge of pain wracked through Nicolas’s body.

“Ho-holy shit!” Nicolas declared, unable to free himself.  How could this be?!  How could a man possessed by Satan himself be crippled by this seemingly innocuous, impossible move?!

“No!” El Dongo countered.  â€œHOLY DICK!”

And with the sheer power of only his mighty member, El Dongo flipped Oni Nicolas across the entire ring, as the fans in the arena became unglued and clapped as hard as they could.  Some even rose from their seats at the sight of such testicular fortitude.  El Dongo soaked in the accolades from the appreciative crowd as Nicolas flopped over onto his stomach, recovering from what must have surely been the most blessed balls in the entire world.  

At last, El Dongo came to his fallen foe and turned him onto his back for a pin.  

1!  2!

He had taken too long celebrating his mighty meaty move, and Nicolas was able to rally for a kickout!  This could not stand!  El Dongo grabbed Nicolas’s hand, perhaps looking to put it back into place for another Dongoplex, but this time Nicolas countered.  He leveraged El Dongo forward, and locked in a triangle choke!  Trapped in this cage of limbs, El Dongo shouted in pain as his ligaments were tested to their limits!  He tried to reach for a rope…for a weapon…for his own powerful penile implement…but none were within reach.  Left with no other options, El Dongo furiously tapped out.

Winner, new champion, Oni Nicolas!!!!

After stretching him even more, ruthlessly, Oni Nicolas released the hold and accepted his title.  The fans booed, but some applauded.  It had indeed been a battle unlike any other.  Nicolas shouldered his new belt and headed towards the back.

***
Backstage…

It was an exhausting day.  The spirit of undying evil was willing, but the mortal flesh was weak, and Nicolas Blair, hot off of defeating El Dongo for this hardcore, 24/7 championship, laid back on a bench in the locker room changing area.  Today he had traveled to Japan, filmed that promo for SCW, and now he’d wrestled a match against two worthy and utterly original-not-existing-trade-marked-character opponents.  He thought back to what he’d said, towards Brother Grimm and Misty, about how adaptable he had become.  It was true.  Nothing was constant.  Everything was always changing.  And every action taken, no matter how innocuous, could lead to the next big change.

“What the-“ Blair opened one eye.  It was the cat he’d seen in the alleyway earlier, lying casually on his chest.  It must have gotten into the backstage area when he’d headed inside from his vape.  It looked at him with unblinking, feline eyes coolly.  Blair half-smiled.

“What do you think you’re do-“ He started to ask, but was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of one of the show’s many referees.

“ONE! TWO! THREE!” The referee counted Nicolas’s shoulders down as the cat continued staring at everything.  Nicolas blinked.  â€œWinner!  AND NEW CHAMPION…THIS CAT!!!!”

“Wait a minute-!” Nicolas started to protest, but it was too late.  His title was removed and given to the cat.  Cursed 24/7 rules!  Nicolas sat up, still in a little bit of shock.  Then he closed his eyes and smiled wickedly to himself.

“Even the smallest action can lead to the next big change.” He reminded himself.  This was the end of his run in Japan.  And the devil had lost his title to a cat.  That seemed appropriate for this strange, so-different place.  Next match, though…things would be very, very different.

Blair stood up to gather his things and leave this place, this persona and this world behind.  As he got ready to leave the arena, far behind him, he heard Timmy Narcolepsy challenge the cat to a First Blood Match.  From the sound of the hiss and the cursing that followed, Nicolas was quite sure that the cat was still champion.





#LOLgrimdarkedgelords