CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
📅 July 1st, 2005 (continued)
The announce table lay in splinters.
Jetstream Jace barely moved.
But Malik wasn't finished.
Not by a long shot.
The Tribal Chief grabbed what remained of his opponent, dragging him up like dead weight. The crowd, unsure whether to cheer or wince, stood frozen in awe.
He rolled Jace back into the ring—but not to end the match.
No.
This was about consequences.
Malik hoisted him up again—
💣 POWERBOMB!
Jace's body folded on impact.
Malik didn't even blink.
He lifted him again.
💣 SECOND POWERBOMB!
"Stop it! He's already dead!" a fan screamed in disbelief.
Then, Malik launched him over the top rope, crashing Jace like garbage to the outside mats.
The referee considered stopping the match—but Malik pointed at him like a general commanding his army.
"Back off."
He climbed out.
Threw Jace back into the ring.
The audience had gone from cheering to stunned silence.
No one had ever seen the flashy, arrogant Jace handled like this.
Malik stood over him.
Lifted his hand.
Finger to the sky.
And then…
💀 CROWN CRUSHER!
BOOM.
The crowd came alive.
1…
2…
3.
WINNER: Malik "The Tribal Chief" Smith Jr.
He didn't celebrate.
He just stood tall, belt raised, eyes on the hard camera.
"Let this be a message," he said to the lens. "You interfere in my matches... you end your career early."
Backstage, BWF officials were already whispering.
This wasn't just a rivalry.
It was a warning.
The Tribal Chief wasn't just champion.
He was the reckoning.
[End of Chapter 29 – "Message Sent"]