Tamer

I'm in.

Ruby RiottDaniel BryanRoman ReignsBraun and BobbySeth RollinsNia JaxCharlotteJeff HardyShinsuke Nakamura

Mustafa AliEliasBecky Lynch.Kurt and Ronda.Shane and Daniel.Nia Jax.Asuka.Roman Reigns.Shinsuke Nakamura.Braun Strowman and Rey Mysterio.Bludgeon Brothers.Finn Balor.Rusev. Bonus Questions: Rey Mysterio is Braun's mystery partner. Sasha Banks turns heel. Carmella will cash in on Charlotte/Asuka and fail. Yes, Taker wins. 19 minutes for Lesnar/Roman.

Mr Robot, Game Of Thrones, Sons Of Anarchy and Orange Is The New Black. All great shows.

Later on in the evening after the momental announcement by Stephanie McMahon that superstars would have to have sex with each other in order to win their scheduled matches in an effort to improve passion within the superstars many were left speechless. One of these men was Jinder Mahal. Only moments before the Indian superstar had checked to see if he would be appearing in the Survivor Series pre-show due to the fact he was wasn't on the main event and found he had the dark match; against Santino Marella. Mahal was quietly confident as he entered the designated lockerroom and was quite surprised by what he saw. In the corner of the room stood a referee who smiled weakly at Mahal as he continued to observe. A bench sat at the back of the room littered with condoms and lube and hanging on the lockers themselves were an array sex toys. Dildo's ranging in length, anal beads, butt plugs of various sizes, handcuffs, rope, whips, chains as well as vibrators. Mahal smirked at the sight before him looking to the right and seeing that the open plan lockerroom shower was occupied, steam steadily billowing from within; Mahal knew his 'Opponent' in Santino Marella was already here. Jinder Mahal casually pulled his wrestling trunks down from his waist, freeing his 7 inch cock that slowly started to harden as he kicked off his trunks and wrapped hand around his erection, bringing it to it's full hardness before quietly walking into the shower. As he walked in the showers he could see the Italian superstar with his back towards Mahal, water and soap running down his tattooed back and down into his smooth ass crack as Mahal approached him. Santino meanwhile was blissfully unaware that his opponent for the night was so close behind him as he continued to clean himself in preparation. Mahal watched from behind as Santino slid a finger down his ass crack and into his tight hole. "Ohhh mama mia" Santino groaned. His slid his finger in and out of his ass and Mahal took this as his cue, stepping close behind Santino and slapping his cock into the Italian superstars ass crack, making him jump slightly. "Think it's about time we got started" Jinder said Mahal slid his cock down Santino's ass crack before pushing forward, his foreskin rolling back as the head of his cock pushed forward into Marella's tight hole, pushing deeper and deeper into his hole until eventually his shaved crotch touched Marella's ass. "Ohhhhh!" Santino moaned Both men were still for a moment before Jinder started to pull out until just the head of his cock was still in Santino's ass before pushing forward, thrusting all of his cock until Santino at once making both men groan out in the shower cubicle. "Yeah you like that don't you! Always knew you could take a big cock like mine!" Jinder laughed Santino simply rolled his eyes and pushed back, causing the Indian superstar to lose his rhythm slightly. Santino knew that if he cooperated and made Jinder Mahal cum, he would have tonight's match won so he did it again, thrusting back against the indian stallion causing him again to lose his rhythm, this time losing his patience also. He pulled out of the Italian superstars ass before grabbing him by the shoulder, spinning him round so they are face to face before forcing him onto his knees. "Suck my cock" Mahal demanded Santino simply shrugged, he didn't care that he was being bossed around, it seemed like Jinder Mahal had already forgotten that the first person to cum loses the match. Santino softly took Jinder's cock into his hand before licking around the head, making the Indian superstar moan before making him moan even more by swallowing his cock whole! "Ohhhhhh shit!" Jinder moaned as Santino's nose pressed against Mahal's shaven crotch. Jinder Mahal tilted his head back in sheer pleasure and closed his eyes, letting the sensation wash over him as Santino continued his assault on the Indian's cock. After a while, Mahal started to feel the familiar feeling rising inside of him and it wasn't until he was on the edge of orgasm that Jinder realised just why he was there. "Get off!" Jinder shouted but Santino didn't respond Mahal tried to push Santino away from him but to no avail, Santino wouldn't budge and if anything could sense that Jinder was close and increased his pace, sucking faster and faster before bringing a hand to the Indians heavy balls and rolling them around in his hand. That was all it took, Jinder couldn't take anymore. "Ohhhhh fuck!" Jinder moaned Santino let his lips roll down Jinder's shaft one more time before his cock exploded. "Take that cum! You haven't heard the last of me!" Jinder Mahal moaned Shot after shot of the Indian superstars cum hit the back of Santino's throat as he tried desperately not to gag on the amount that was filling his mouth. Mahal moaned as he pumped his cock in and out of Santino's mouth a little before pulling out and looking down, seeing his cum inside Marella's mouth. "Swallow it." Mahal demanded And swallow it Santino did. In one fluid gulp Santino managed to swallow Jinder Mahal's cum, savouring the slightly tangy taste as it ran down his throat. Mahal smirked before slapping his cock slightly against the face of Santino. "Next time you're mine." Jinder remarked With that the Indian superstar casually left the shower area and retrieved his wrestling trunks, putting them back on before going, leaving Santino alone and with a raging erection in the shower...

Immediately after the celebration of one of the dominant champions to ever grace the Carnage Brand has nearly come to it’s conclusion, the arena experiences a complete blackout. For all about 35 seconds it is unknown whether or not this has occurred from an act of malicious intent or rather a power outage, and amongst the murmurs of confusion lies a very unhappy champion demanding his spotlight and attention back, as his celebration’s been interrupted. Unfortunately for Flynn, there’s something much more troubling in store for the man. The titantron displays a message in bloody, rigid lettering that reads “Number 5”. It’s time for The Order’s final member for Survivor Series. The crowd gasps in excitement and intrigue as Smith has teased this for the better part of a month, meaning now at one of Carnage’s biggest shows of the year we finally get some resolution as to who this mystery man is. Flynn maintains his usual brashness upon hearing this news, perhaps to mask his nerves or, stupidly, he underestimates The Order’s pull. The stage is set. We cut to the image of a hooded, average built male seated, staring directly at the audience. The view of his face is almost completely obstructed if not for a conveniently placed fluorescent lighting from above, which slightly reveals the person’s roughened, worn and torn appearance. He’s heavily bearded, but at the same time gives off a sense of familiarity from what little we can see of him, oddly only adding to his enigma. For the first time, he speaks. Every night for the past year and a half I’ve found myself pondering what it must be like to be you. To so easily obtain an empire built on the hopes and aspirations of a naive collective starved of discipline, glory and passion to serve your every need, erase your every concern all while happily being heralded by the roaring public as a man to admire. By threads did I manage to keep going after the filth I ordered those men to do but you remain unscathed and unashamed. I’m assuming you might think this is rich from an individual who’s chosen to align himself with the likes of The Order, a group that is in no way shy at all to these practices and tactics, and you’d be right to think so. What I do however, doubt you’ve begun to consider is what exactly the source of my bile is for you, and the lengths I’d be willing to go in order to put things right by myself. The man uncovers a booklet, with each of the pages laced with pictures highlighting events of importance throughout BPZ history. He flicks through several pages before landing directly onto the words “Mayhem”. His originally stoic and emotionless posture has completed faded. It’s May the 20th 2016. This day will forever give me grief no matter how much I try to rationalize the contents that’s left me with trauma from it. This was the biggest opportunity of my life. To stand at the forefront of an industry I’ve prided every last decision of mine on for as long as I can remember was just about the only thing I’d ever wanted. I failed previously, and miserably at that, but here was a chance to start anew. We fought with little care nor thought for each other’s well beings, chaining together a rain of forearms with headbutts, kicks and just about any offensive maneuvers that possibly springs to mind. I seemingly manage to get the upper hand and it looks like the match is mine, this is immediately shut down as my opponent opts to hit me low, completely crippling any chances I might’ve had. I thought I was done. Little did I know. His tone begins in escalate in intensity, the subject matter is clearly more personal than one could imagine. Three men wielding steel chairs whilst sporting SWAT gear hit the ring, and immediately began to attack that man until he was left for dead, completely incapacitated. Now I’m bewildered and conflicted by this situation. I wanted to win on my terms, but to risk jeopardizing yet another opportunity for myself thanks to my moral confliction was something I didn’t want. The clock is ticking, these three men continue to glare at me. I take it. The ref hits three. Pinpointing my exact feeling in words as the referee handed me the title is difficult, since there was a whirlwind of emotions rushing through me. The one that stands out however, is euphoric. Whatever reservations I may have had about how I got to my destination wasn’t important as any of that doubt was being erased by the screams of that crowd and the twenty pounds of glistening gold around my waist. I did it. I was worth a damn. You took that from me. Pummeled, choked, ragdolled, battered, humiliated, scarred. Everything that was done to me that night didn’t hurt even nearly as much as watching you and your pack of dogs nonchalantly stroll out of the ring with my life’s work. My blood. My tears. The very fibre of who I’ve always wanted to be, stolen. All for you to carelessly fling about for a few months as a declaration of dominance. And then you have the fucking gall to come back and pretend you’re still worthy of a chance at it again. It’s why I’ve found myself endlessly asking what it must be like to drodge on day by day doing the things you do with little to no compassion or remorse, how you can never stop to look at yourself in utter disgust. How during one of your displays of contemptment, there’s never even a hint of self loathing after the trail of misery you’ve left. That ends. Even if the means come down to teaming with four of the most vile men on earth. At Survivor Series, I’m going to have your fucking head. The lights return as an irate, distraught Flynn is then stalked by Smith and the hooded man. Instantly they begin to overwhelm the Universal Champion with a series of boots. Smith, admiring his work signals both hands up to the crowd to a heavily mixed reaction, and then nods to the hooded man. He removes his hood to the utter shock of everyone in the arena. Tamer is back after 12 months of having disappeared off the radar completely. He gingerly grabs a near unconscious Flynn by his hair, immediately slams him to the mat and violently stomps with all his force down onto his trachea, nearly cutting off his air supply. He doesn’t stop until Smith is forced to hold him back, creating tension between the two former Pride partners. After seconds however, the two shake hands moments later and then leave the ring in one of the most shocking endings to a PPV we’ve seen in a long time.

"Now this, THIS is wrestling (not to imply everything before or after it wasn't, but this is really fucking good guys okay? ) A bonafide all timer from start to finish. They opened up with a fantastic sense of fire, passion and urgency, not holding back one bit as they layed into each other with stiff elbows and chops. Kobashi took control of the match by working Misawa's midsection with amazing gut punches, and yet he just wouldn't cave into his strategy. So what does he do? Brutally work the arm. I wasn't too much of a fan of this segment of the match, but the payoff in terms of Misawa's selling made it all the more worthwhile as it added even more intrigue to the outcome of this match, because by taking out the arm Kobashi's essentially crippled Misawa's offense or, at the very least, weakened it. Right? Massive German Suplex, can't capitalise, Rolling Elbow, can't capitalise. He simply had to dig down deep if he was ever going to have a chance at winning this. Fantastic nearfalls in the finishing stretch, did not at all expect Kobashi to kick out of the Tiger Bomb, beautiful mid-air LARIATO and a freaking Apron Frankensteiner! Amazing action, amazing storytelling and an amazing finish. This damn well might've cracked my top 10 matches ever. *****"

This fucking ruled on so many different levels. The best spotfest tag team match I've seen and also the best Jr Tag Team match I've seen too. The chemistry between the four was just unmatchable, Marufuji and KENTA starting off to a blazing hot crowd was awesome, Ishimori's athleticism was jaw dropping but for me, Kota Ibushi took this to the next level with his star making performance. Just an incredible display of skill by four top tier workers. *****"

Whenever this question comes up I usually rotate between any of the big four in NJPW (Okada, Omega, Tanahashi and Naito), but as of this year I've gravitated towards Okada more than anyone. I think it's moreso to do with how legendary his championship run has been than how excellent he is as a wrestler which has made me warm up to the dude, he's just been on a complete tear ever since he won the IWGP Heavyweight title with classics against Marufuji, Omega, Suzuki and Shibata. Each match was completely unique and distinct in it's story and still managed to elevate and protect his opponents on the losing side. I also love how slick and effortless his offense looks in the ring, the dude is a complete wrestling prodigy in pretty much all facets and I honestly believe he's the best wrestler in the world today. As far as Junior Heavyweights go, KUSHIDA and Hiromu Takahashi are my favorites. For KUSHIDA, I think it's awesome how he incorporates BJJ into his wrestling with all the little things he does on the mat. He's so good at targeting the arms and legs with brutal, crisp efficiency plus his athleticism is off the charts. Takahashi on the other hand, is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum in terms of style compared to KUSHIDA. He's a daredevil who lunges himself at his opponents with zero regard for his own wellbeing and it's so, so fun to watch. What separates him from the rest of the guys who wrestle this way is, few can pull it off while projecting as much flair and charisma with his gimmick than Hiromu does. Those two single handedly re-invigorated the division with their rivalry.

Triple H and Steve Austin vs Chris Jericho and Chris Benoit. This match is infamous for Haitch's quad tear which subsequentally kept him out of the Invasion storyline, but for others this was the night Jericho and Benoit became made men in the WWF. Watching two undersized WCW guys take the fight to the biggest heels in the company at a point where guys like The Rock had failed to do so was amazing to watch, and them winning the tag team gold further helped that. If there was any upside to Austin's heel turn, this match was that.

It's tradition for the Heavyweight Champion to be in the G1 as any losses he might incur would result in title matches later in the year. Also, if the champion wins the G1, not only do they assert superiority over the entire roster but they get to personally choose their own opponent for the main event of WrestleKingdom.

I mean, I can't really say I'm disappointed, considering I didn't expect much from this in the first place. Orton unsurprisingly went through the motions and Mahal moves about like an arthritic old man in mud, so the writing was on the wall for yet another terrible match between the two. Mahal projecting intensity for the sake of intensity with absolutely nothing to back it up with in the ring, dominating the majority of the match with boring, heatless and unconvincing offense on Orton's leg plus some riveting punches and knee drops, Orton shrugging off the leg offense with no simple explanation as to why and delivering all his vintage hits with little to no struggle and of course the match being clustered with interference once again. This match made little to no sense. Of course, they evaded all logic and went with Jinder retaining. The sooner he loses the belt the better, there are no redeeming qualities to him as a talent. Useless wrestler, useless match.

Hype BrosThe UsosNaomiJinder MahalBecky LynchBaron Corbin