SWF Lockdown 9-6-2006

[chirs3 0]

Earlier Today…

 

The room is rather familiar considering the gypsy-like nature of the SWF touring schedule. An oak table, swivel chair and various innocuous knickknacks including, of course, a stunning picture of the fed’s current head honcho. Joe Peters stands, leaning against his desk in an office of the Scotiabank Place, spinning through his I-Pod’s song choices. It’s landed on Landon song choices three times in a row as the newly added rap song, Moneymaker, thumps in this right ear. The other bud hangs in his hand, as he offers it to the current World Heavyweight Champion, Michael Stephens, who just stares at Peters like he’s an idiot.

 

“You’re my moneymaker, Mike. Considering your current tag team situation, I thought it’d be relevant.” The Champ, on the other hand, doesn’t. Peter’s just shrugs and begins to put his headphones back in. “Well, if that’s it…”

 

“You did change the card, right?”

 

Acting like he could hear the question, Joe turns around and shuffles some random papers in hopes that Stephens will get annoyed and just leave. It doesn’t work.

 

“Did you change the card?” Stephens reiterates, causing Joe to sigh and take out the buds.

 

“I just want to point out what a huge risk this would be for me. You’re my top draw, going into our biggest show of the year.” Joe adds folding his arms across his chest. “This is Genesis we’re talking about. Genesis! Do you know how much money we pumped into that ‘Road to G7’ ad campaign? Lots! And for good reason, cause you and Flesher on the marquee should do big business! Add in one of our best under cards since G3 and we’re talking a huge buy-rate—at least 750,000!! And that’s just the domestic number!!!”

 

“We talked about this after Storm. Has the match between Zyon and Gabe been changed?” Mike asks again. “Yes-or-No?”

 

“Yes,” Peters begins, “but think about this reasonably, Michael. It seems to me that you’re stretching yourself thin. You’ve got a lot of responsibilities. A lot of pressure, but if you crack and walk away like you did before, where does that leave me? Out one of the biggest main events in SWF history, that’s where!” Catching the look on Stephens face, Joe bids a hasty retreat, backpedaling faster than he wishes he could job Mike Van Siclen to the entire roster. He needs to keep Stephens happy if only until Genesis. “You have to understand… this is a tough position you’re putting me in. I gave you the night off for a reason. You have to defend the SWF Tag Team Titles before Genesis, on Smarkdown, against the winners of tonight’s number one contender’s match. I can’t just let my belts go undefended after all.”

 

“I’ve got no problem with that. I already told Landon I’m not looking past our title defense.” The stricken look on Peter’s face at the mention of Maddix is quickly covered up. “So, I’ve got my match.”

 

Peters gets a little bit more nervous as Stephens looks at him funny, wondering why it’s taking him so long to say the match is signed.

 

“And there’s some history between you and Drake. Hell, I should know, I did the research.” Joe slides around behind his desk not feeling too comfortable being within arms reach of the World Champ. “Quite frankly, I wanted to keep you two apart in anticipation of a big Pay-per-view match sometime after Genesis, but since you came to me with this request it was—er, would-be, I-I meant would be very difficult to deny my franchise player a match.”

 

Joe raises his hands quickly, waving them to try and cover up his slip-up, but Stephens face shows he didn’t miss a word. Cold grey eyes bore into the commissioners as he tries to look away. Taking a brief second to compose himself, Michael Stephens asks the question one more time.

 

“I told him—promised him, I’d get him the match, so, do I have my bleedin’ match or not, Peters?”

 

“Actually, no…”

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

“And may I ask why the fuck not?”

 

Possibly because my Main Event is more important to me than your petty feud, right now? Or maybe because you’ve been a pain in the ass since you’ve come back, despite all the money you’ve drawn? But really, it’s because I was thankfully given a way out of this catastrophe by the grace of some higher power—maybe the wrestling gawd himself. All these thoughts run through Joseph Peters mind as responses, but luckily for him all that comes out is…

 

“Because someone else volunteered…”

 

FADE…

[chirs3 0]

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...

SWF LOCKDOOOOOOWN!
Live, Wednesday, September 6th, from the Scotiabank Place in Ottowa!
(7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings)
(Send all promos/marked matches to chirs3)


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

THE MAIN EVENT - SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Jimmy the Doom © vs. Michael Cross
-> Michael Cross's warmup against Nemesis ended... oddly... but he can't dwell on that with the Hardcore Champion in his sights! Can "Iron" Mike end Jimmy the Doom's reign of Hardcore absurdity, or will the oddball Doomtopian prove too much to handle?
Rules: Hradkore! It's like Hardcore, only not!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bruce Blank and Nemesis vs. JJ Johnson and MANSON

-> If left on the supereiffic team of Two Skinny White Guys, the Tag Team Championships will go undefended at Genesis. Such is life, I suppose.

So we're gonna make those bastards defend it sooner!

The deadly new alliance of Bruce Blank and Nemesis will challenge the only two men in the SWF cool enough to fit "OSITY" behind their names, and the winners will challenge TSWG for the Tag Team Titles on Smarkdown!
Rules: Standard tag team match. Use the tag ropes!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

SINGLES MATCH
Landon Maddix vs. "The Beast" Gabriel Drake
---> Someone else volunteered? What the hell is going on here?! Apparently Michael Stephens was trying to get Drake in a match tonight, but his own tag team partner beat him to the punch!
Rules: Standard singles match.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"HOUSE OF MARVELOUS" INTERVIEW SEGMENT
---> It's official: The House of Marvelous is a hit! After an exciting, albeit somewhat underhanded, first installment, Anderson returns - I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say who he's interviewing or not, so check back later!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

OPENING BOUT - CRUISERWEIGHT MATCH
The Birdman vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins
-> Not so much curtain-jerking as it is starting the show off our best foot forward! Two electrifying cruiserweights open this edition of Lockdown with some high-flying action! And for Spike Jenkins, it's a chance to prepare for Genesis, where a shot at Cruiserweight Title Contendership awaits!
Rules: Standard, with Cruiser addenda.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Opening Promo: Jay Hawke

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

[chirs3 0]

Pan the crowd. See their signs. See them scream.

 

 

BOOM BOOM BOOM *BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*!

 

See the pyro scare the holy crap out of them!

 

Francis: "Welcome to a sold out Scotiabank Place in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, and welcome to Lockdown! I'm Mak Francis, along with the Suicide King, and we have some tremendous action on the way tonight!"

 

Before Mak can actually talk about the lineup, we hear the opening strains of Pink Floyd's "Learning to Fly" coming over the PA.

 

King: "But before we get to the fantastic matches, we're going to hear from Jay Hawke, Mak!"

 

Jay Hawke steps through the ropes, wearing an expensive taylor-made three-piece beige suit as most of the fans chant their familiar chant:

 

 

"JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!

JAY HAWKE SUCKS!"

 

Francis: "And there's no doubt as to why he's coming out here, King. After beating Bruce Blank literally one second before the time limit expired on Storm, he's out here to choose the stipulation for his shot at Blank's International Championship at Genesis."

 

King: "And I'd expect pure wrestling rules based off of Storm, as Blank was completely out of his element, although he certainly wasn't helped by some shoddy interpretations of the rules."

 

Francis: "It's hard to say with a guy like Jay Hawke, King, but whether you like the guy or not, you have to admit he's always thinking out there."

 

Jay Hawke enters the ring and asks for a microphone, but you know he's not going to be able to talk right away due to the crowd's chants. Eventually though, the chants die down, and Hawke brings the microphone up to his lips.

 

Hawke: "I'd like to say how great it is to be in Ottawa!"

 

 

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

 

 

Hawke: "But I'd also like to be in a hot tub with Mandy Moore right now, so screw Ottawa!"

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

 

Hawke: "But let's get down to business. See, last week on Storm, Bruce Blank had an opportunity to put the odds in his favor at Genesis. All he had to do was last ten minutes without getting beat. And I'll give him some credit, he had a great game plan. Waste as much time as possible while doing the littlest amount of effort possible. But one problem. When you play not to lose, you generally lose every time. Just ask the Senators."

 

 

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

Francis: "I don't remember a specific incident to warrant that comment."

 

King: "Forget it, he's rolling."

 

Hawke: "But you see, in less than two weeks at Genesis, Bruce Blank is going to have to be that guy who plays to win. Because with the match I have in mind, losing is not an option if he wants to retain that championship belt. Because the match I have in mind has only been done once in wrestling history...and of course, I came out victorious."

 

Francis: "What could he possibly be talking about?"

 

King: "He wasn't involved in the Kennel from Hell, was he?"

 

Francis: "I certainly hope not."

 

Hawke: "So on September 17...live on pay-per-view...it will be me. Defeating Bruce Blank for the International Championship. Under old school rules."

 

Francis: "Old school rules?"

 

Hawke: "That means two out of three falls with a one hour time limit. That means three rope breaks per fall. That means throwing an opponent over the top rope is an automatic disqualification. Oh, and Bruce? One little caveat to all that. If you get disqualified in any fall, and I take two falls to your one or none? That belt is coming home to me."

 

Francis: "He's certainly stacked the deck against Bruce Blank at Genesis."

 

King: "That's why he's the Dean of Professional Wrestling, Mak."

 

Hawke: "So allow me the little cliche and say this. Bruce Blank, shine that championship belt up real nice. Because when I regain my championship..."

 

"Now you just hang on right there!"

 

No music, which is a rarity, but up on the stage we see Bruce Blank, Wayne Blank, Professor Richard Attenborough, and Nemesis making their way to the top of the ramp, with Blank holding onto a microphone.

 

Blank: "I can appreciate that you have a goal and you want to achieve it...hell, I can relate...but you've picked the wrong goal here, pal!"

 

Francis: "Blank obviously taking some offense to some of these comments tonight."

 

Blank: "The only way you are ever ... and I mean ever ... taking this title belt from me is to pry it out of my cold dead hands."

 

Hawke: "That can be arranged."

 

Blank: "Oh, you think so? Keep telling yourself that. Face it. You're getting a top match at the biggest pay-per-view of the year based off your reputation. What, exactly, have you done to earn this title shot?"

 

Hawke: "Nothing much."

 

Blank: "Exactly. See..."

 

Hawke: "I just pinned your shoulders to the mat in less than ten minutes on Storm, that's all!"

 

 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

 

Blank: "Oh, you think you're real funny, don't you? Well, we don't have to wait until Genesis. Why don't we just do this right now?"

 

With that, Blank drops the microphone, and he and Nemesis begin to make their way to the ring. Hawke drops the microphone and removes his suit jacket faster than a hooker puts her legs in the air when the money's in her hand.

 

Francis: "We're going to get the confrontation here, King, but I don't think Hawke's going to be able to take both of these men on, is he?"

 

King: "Well, at least he's got them face-to-face tonight. No sneak attacks should give Hawke at least a fighting chance."

 

As Nemesis and Bruce Blank hop up on the ring apron, Jay Hawke dares both of them to come into the ring. He doesn't, however, see someone he didn't expect sliding into the ring behind him.

 

Francis: "That's Michael Cross!"

 

Indeed, "Iron" Michael Cross levels Hawke from behind, and almost immediately, Nemesis and Bruce Blank are in the ring to commence the 3-on-1 beatdown.

 

Francis: "Why has Michael Cross aligned himself with Bruce Blank and company?"

 

King: "I don't know, Mak, but this is brilliant! Bruce Blank's going to end up winning the match at Genesis by forfeit!"

 

All three men continue to stomp away at Jay Hawke as Bruce Blank yells "Pick him up!" Nemesis and Cross hold Hawke, each hanging on to an arm. Bruce rares back...

 

 

...

 

 

...and all the lights in the arena go completely out.

 

Francis: "Now what the hell is going on?"

 

King: "Of all the times for there to be a power failure. What the...?"

 

There is a pause, then a flash of lightning, as we briefly see a cloaked figure standing face-to-face with Michael Cross before the building is enveloped in total darkness again.

 

Francis: "Who the hell is that?"

 

King: "I have no idea, I can't see his face with that cloak."

 

After a few seconds, there is another flash of lightning, and this time we see the same cloaked figure face-to-face with Nemesis. But only for a second before it's total darkness again.

 

Francis: "What the hell is going on?"

 

King: "I don't know. Give me back my wallet!"

 

There is another flash of lightning, and this time the lights stay on as the cloaked figure is staring eyeball to eyeball with Bruce Blank.

 

King: "I have no idea who this guy is, Mak! But he's the same height as Blank and just a shade lighter from the looks of it."

 

As the two big men stare each other down, Jay Hawke regains his feet behind Blank and goes to hook in the Wing Span. Blank feels it coming and powers out of it, then quickly slides out of the ring shaking his head as if to say "Not tonight."

 

Francis: "Jay Hawke has been saved by...I don't know, somebody!"

 

King: "I don't know who that man is, but Jay Hawke better thank his lucky stars he was there tonight, or who knows what else could have happened."

 

Francis: "Well, what we do know is there is more great action coming up next!"

[chirs3 0]

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” says Mak Francis. “And welcome to Ottawa, Ontario! Welcome to the Scotiabank Place, where we’re joined here tonight by a capacity crowd of over nineteen thousand screaming fans! Welcome… to SWF Lockdown! Alongside the Hall of Famer, the Suicide King, I’m Mak Francis, and we’ve got an extraordinary night of action planned here tonight!”

 

“That’s right,” adds the Suicide King. “We’ve got a tag team match up between the largest tag team in the history of the SWF, Bruce Blank and Nemesis, and the team of JJ Johnson and Manson, with Number One contendership for the Tag Team Titles, and a shot on Smarkdown, on the line!”

 

“We’ve also the hottest new rookie of this year, Gabriel Drake, taking on perhaps the top rookie of last year’s class,” says Mak, “the Unique Youth, Zyon, as he attempts to work his way back into form in order to be ready for an opportunity at Genesis!”

 

“As well as the newest addition to SWF programming,” continues King. “The hottest fifteen minutes on television: the House of Marvelous! And, in the main event, we’ve got Jimmy the Doom taking on ‘Iron’ Mike Cross, with the Hardcore Title on the line!”

 

“But, speaking of the House of Marvelous,” adds Mak, “last week, the Birdman played a prominent role in that segment, and this week, we open up Lockdown with the Birdman, as he takes on ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins!”

 

“After watching the House of Marvelous last week,” says King, “I find myself inclined to agree with Mike Van Siclen. It seems pretty obvious that the Birdman is either Wildchild, or someone who knows Wildchild very well!”

 

“Well, we saw Birdman and Wildchild in the ring at the same time last week,” says Mak, “so it has to be somebody else, doesn’t it?”

 

“Not necessarily,” replies King. “I wouldn’t put it past Wildchild to have somebody else wearing the Birdman costume, just to put one over on Mike Van Siclen!”

 

“Well, whoever was wearing the Birdman costume last week was quite familiar with Wild and Dangerous’ old finishing move,” remarks Francis. “King, you don’t suppose that Johnny Dangerous could have been the Birdman all this time, do you?”

 

“Impossible,” insists King. “Like I said last week, I’ve seen Dangerous and Birdman in the ring at the same time. That may have very well been Dangerous in the suit last week, but he couldn’t have been the Birdman this whole time. Besides which, I’ve seen the Birdman physically demonstrate athleticism that I don’t think Dangerous is capable of!”

 

“Well, regardless of who it is,” says Mak, “he’s going to have his hands full today, as he takes on ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins, who’s going into Genesis looking to establish himself as the top contender to the World Cruiserweight Title!”

 

“Definitely,” agrees King. “Spike Jenkins has had problems with motivation and focusing himself in the past, but when he brings his best effort, he can be one of the best in the world! Jenkins is a guy that can do it all in that ring, but he has to keep his head in the game; right now, he’s his own worst enemy!”

 

“You’re exactly right, King,” says Mak. “Spike is such a naturally gifted wrestler that he’s started to believe that he can beat his opponents without giving his best effort… And that’s not going to work against the Birdman, who’s got a pretty strong claim to a Cruiserweight Title shot in his own right; he’s undefeated since his return to the SWF, and when you add in his previous run, he’s been VERY successful in the Cruiserweight Division!”

 

“Birdman’s only loss in the Cruiserweight Division came two years ago, at Genesis,” adds King, “where he was in a triple threat ladder match against Spike Jenkins and Ryan Dustin for the World Cruiserweight Championship.”

 

“This match has the potential to steal the show, King,” says Mak. “Two of the top cruiserweights in the world will both be battling it to see who’s the best, as we send it up to Funyon in the ring!”

 

 

DING!

DING!

DING!

 

 

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall!” booms Funyon. With that, every light in the arena goes to full power as the SmarkTron whites out. The only audible sound is that of a needle scratching over vinyl, and then…

 

 

*BAM*

 

The heavy drumming of Norma Jean’s “Creating Something Out of Nothing, Only to Destroy It” blasts through the arena as the lyrics pierce the ears of everyone listening.

 

“Like bringing a knife to a gun fight…

 

Like Bringing A Knife To A Gun Fight…

 

 

LIKE BRINGING A KNIFE TO A GUN FIGHT!”

 

Bright white lights begin flashing at the entranceway. As the growls hit the crowd, Spike walks out wearing a black hoodie on, the hood covering most of his face. Spike drops down to one knee, leaving one arm to hang to the ground, while the other is firmly placed on his knee. After a few moments, Spike raises both arms into an “X”, symbolizing his Straight Edge lifestyle. Spike rises to his feet and begins to make his way down the aisle towards the ring.

 

“Making his way towards the ring at this time,” continues Funyon, “from Hollywood, California, and weighing in at two hundred twenty pounds… he is the self-proclaimed King of Cambodia… HOLLYWOOD SPIIIIIKE JEN-KINS!”

 

“Well, focused or unfocused,” says Mak, “there aren’t many in the SWF that know how to bring the pageantry quite like Spike Jenkins!” Spike makes his way completely around the ring and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He continues rolling until he hits dead center in the middle of the ring. Spike rises to one knee and resumes the position he was in at the top of the entranceway. Finally, Spike rises to his feet. He quickly peels off the hood, releasing his blonde, dyed hair free. He puts his arms together, forming an “X” across his chest.

 

“If he put that much effort into winning a match, he’d be the World Heavyweight Champion by now,” laments King. The lights return to their normal intensity as Spike’s music fades out. Jenkins walks over towards the edge of the ring and hands his hoodie over the top rope to the ring attendant stationed on the arena floor.

 

Suddenly, the fans begin cheering as “Let’s Get Retarded” by the Black Eyed Peas begins playing. Birdman bounds out onto the stage, dancing around for the fans delight.

 

“His opponent,” continues Funyon, “from parts unknown, and weighing in at two hundred nineteen pounds… the Birdman!” Birdman dances all the way down the aisle, greetings the fans around the barricade as he makes his way to the ring.

 

“They’re on their feet here for the Birdman!” shouts Mak. “All throughout this Canadian Tour, Birdman has been one of our most popular performers, and here in Ottawa is no exception!” Birdman climbs up onto the apron and then leaps nimbly over the top rope to enter the ring. He glances towards Spike Jenkins, and then greets the crowd with his signature birdcall:

 

Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!

 

Birdman heads over to his assigned corner, and Spike decides to take advantage of the opportunity to sneak attack his opponent! He charges into the corner after the Birdman…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But slams into the turnbuckles as the Bird steps out of the way! Referee Red Herrington orders the timekeeper to start the match immediately!

 

 

DING!

DING!

DING!

 

 

“Jenkins missed on that sneak attack!” shouts King. “And the Birdman catches him!” Birdman slams a quick forearm into Spike’s midsection as he turns around, and then follows it with a second and a third! Birdman chops Spike on the bridge of the nose, and then delivers an overhand chop to the top of his head, before grabbing Jenkins on both sides of his face as he pulls his head back…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… And blasting the King of Cambodia with a headbutt that sends him tumbling out to the arena floor! Birdman looks out into the crowd and acknowledges them once again:

 

 

Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!

 

 

Red Herrington begins to deliver a twenty-count, but Spike returns to the apron well ahead of that. “Good strategy by Jenkins,” praises King. “Take full advantage of that twenty-count; use it like a time out… That gives him time to get his head back together and come up with a second plan of attack, since the first one was unsuccessful!” Jenkins and Birdman meet in the center of the ring for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Spike quickly takes advantage with a side headlock. Birdman leads him towards the edge of the ring, and uses the ropes to help him launch Spike across the ring. The King of Cambodia picks up speed as he bounces off the ropes, and levels Birdman with a running shoulderblock! Birdy gets to his feet as Jenkins runs back to the ropes, and evades him with a leapfrog. Birdman leaps back into the air as Spike rebounds a second time to avoid him with a blind leapfrog, and then runs after him, leaping into the air as Jenkins hits the ropes a third time and blasting him between the eyes with a flying headbutt that knocks Spike through the ropes and out of the ring!

 

“It looks like Spike Jenkins is going to have to come up with a Plan C, King,” says Mak. “So far, Birdman has had an answer for everything that he’s tried to do!” Birdman runs over to a neutral corner and climbs up to the top turnbuckle as Spike is pulling himself to his feet outside the ring.

 

“And Jenkins is in danger of letting Birdman dictate the pace of this match,” notes King. “He has got to get this match under control!” Birdman swoops down from his perch and raises his arms above his head as he crashes down onto the top of Spike’s head with a flying double axe-handle! He pulls Spike off the arena floor and rolls him underneath the bottom rope. Birdy then climbs onto the apron and races over to the nearby corner. He leaps effortlessly to the top turnbuckle before diving down into the ring to drill Jenkins between the eyes with a flying fistdrop! He hooks the leg as he applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Spike kicks out at two! Birdman pulls Jenkins to his feet and leads him over to the corner, where he bashes Spike’s face into the top turnbuckle! Birdy bashes his face into the turnbuckle a second time, causing Spike to stagger out of the corner in an effort to get away, but the Bird follows him!

 

“Birdman is really going to work on Spike Jenkins,” notes Mak, as Birdman slams Jenkins face-first into yet another turnbuckle!”

 

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” says King, as Spike tries to get away yet again. “So far, the pace of this match has been relatively subdued, at least for a Birdman match, and yet Birdman is still getting the better of it!” Birdman follows Spike to another corner, but this time the King of Cambodia is able to put on the brakes, courtesy of a boot to the midsection!

 

“There you go!” cheers King, as Birdy staggers away. “Look at Jenkins fire that boot into the midsection; that’ll take a little bit of the starch out of the Birdman!” Spike takes after him in hot pursuit and delivers a punishing forearm to the small of Birdman’s back that drops him to one knee! Jenkins then follows that up by delivering a series of forearms to the back of Birdman’s neck!

 

“Absolutely right, King,” agrees Mak, as Spike continues laying in with those forearms. “One thing about Jenkins, that I’m sure you’ll agree on, is that he can be relentless when he takes the advantage!”

 

“And it doesn’t always take much to gain that advantage!” adds King. Jenkins grabs Birdman by the head and shoulder and leads him over to the nearby corner, slamming him face-first into the top turnbuckle! He spins Birdy around and begins driving a knee into the Bird’s midsection. He grabs Birdman by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Bird uses leverage and the element of surprise to reverse, sending Spike hard into the turnbuckles; Birdy lowers his head as Jenkins staggers out of the corner and takes him up into the air with a back-body drop! The King of Cambodia rolls onto his knees and begins begging off as Birdman approaches him.

 

“Spike Jenkins looking for a little bit of a timeout,” says Mak, as Birdman draws nearer to his opponent. Spike suddenly surges forward and drives a Shotei into Birdman’s midsection! Spike whips Birdman into the ropes, but the Bird leaps into the air explosively as he rebounds, knocking Jenkins off his feet with a flying shoulder tackle! Birdy runs back towards the edge of the ring, and Spike bellies out as he bounces off the ropes; the King of Cambodia scrambles back to his feet and catches Birdman in a bearhug as he rebounds a second time, before falling back…

 

 

THWACK!

 

 

… And clotheslining Birdman on the top rope with a Hot Shot!

 

 

“Tremendous move by Spike Jenkins!” shouts Mak, as Jenkins gets back to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds, and bringing his full two hundred twenty pounds crashing down onto Birdman’s chest with a double stomp! Spike collapses atop him and applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Birdman kicks out at two! Jenkins looks over at the referee and implies a slow count.

 

“There’s got to be some kind protection inside that suit,” laments King. “A normal guy would be down for a week and a half after a move like that!” Spike pulls Birdman to his feet and delivers several Shotei to Birdman’s head, to seemingly little effect!

 

“Spike is making a mistake here,” warns King. “I’ve thought for some time that Birdman’s helmet is loaded, and if it is, those palm thrusts to the head aren’t going to do much damage!” Birdman tries to fire back with an overhand chop to the head, but Spike kills his momentum quickly by burying a knee to the midsection! Jenkins then shifts behind Birdman and traps him in a waistlock; the King of Cambodia pops his hips as he falls backwards to take Birdman over in a German suplex, but the Bird counters by flipping through the suplex attempt and landing on his feet! Before Spike can even react, Birdy leaps off the canvas and crashes down onto his forehead with a diving headbutt! The fans begin cheering again as Birdy goes for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Spike kicks out at two! Birdman runs to the ropes, but Jenkins quickly scrambles to his feet as he rebounds and takes him over with a hiptoss! Spike waits for Birdman to get back to his feet before hooking him underneath the arm and taking him back over with an armdrag; the King of Cambodia beats Birdman to his feet a second time and leaps from the canvas, blasting Birdy in the chest with a standing dropkick that knocks him through the ropes and out of the ring! Spike orders Herrington to begin counting, and then turns to face the other edge of the ring, crossing his arms above his head to taunt the crowd!

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

“Great, great wrestling there by Spike Jenkins!” praises King. “He chained about three maneuvers together there in short order, and actually out-quicked the Birdman!”

 

“There’s no question that Spike Jenkins can do great things when he applies himself,” agrees Mak. “As we just saw, he can chain together a series of moves out of nowhere better than just about anybody in the SWF… But the question with Spike Jenkins has always been how committed is he to raising his game to the next level!” Spike reaches over the top rope as Birdman gets back onto the apron and traps him in a front facelock.

 

“Looks like Spike is going to bring him in the hard way,” notes Mak, as Spike lifts Birdy overhead into a vertical suplex position and takes a few steps away from the ropes, but instead of falling backwards, Jenkins drops Birdman forward onto the top rope, letting him bounce off before lifting him back overhead and driving him down to the canvas with a Slingshot Suplex!

 

“Slingshot Suplex, nicely executed by Jenkins,” remarks Francis, as Spike twists his hips to roll onto his knees, whilst still maintaining control of the front facelock. “And it looks like he may be going for a second one!” Instead of going for another suplex, however, Spike swings his arm from on top of Birdy’s neck in the front facelock position, to underneath his chin, and then suddenly brings it up sharply…

 

 

SMACK!

 

 

Blasting the Bird with a European uppercut! Spike raises his arm as he whips around suddenly, smacking Birdman in the face with a spinning backfist and then, with his back to the Bird, quickly follows up by flipping backwards…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… And spiking Birdy on the top of the head with the Pelé kick! Jenkins lays Birdman flat and applies a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

“Two count only!” shouts Mak, as Spike glares at the referee. “Boy, was that close!”

 

“That was close,” agrees King angrily. “There appeared to be some hesitation on Red Herrington’s part on that count!” Jenkins rolls Birdman onto his back and then places Birdy's left arm over his right shoulder; he then locks his hands around the Birdman's beak, and pulls back to punish his neck and shoulder with the Strong Island Stretch!

 

“Strong Island Stretch!” reports Mak. “We could get a submission right here!” Red Herrington asks Birdman if he wants to submit, but the Bird shakes his head and squawks a negative response.

 

“Birdman’s trying to fight his way out of the stretch,” says Mak, “but I don’t think that he’s going to make it!” Birdman flops about the canvas as if he had a broken wing, but is unable to free himself. Eventually, the flopping subsides.

 

“Hah!” snorts King. “I hope that everybody in the back is taking notes, because Spike Jenkins is writing the book on how to beat the Birdman!” Red Herrington tries to get a sense of Birdman’s awareness, but can’t discern anything through his mask. He lifts Birdman’s right arm off the canvas and releases it, watching as it drops back down.

 

“That’s one,” says Mak. “Two more times, and that’s it!” Herrington raises Birdman’s arm and watches as it drops a second time.

 

“What a big win this is going to be for Spike Jenkins,” marvels King, as Herrington flashes two fingers towards the timekeeper. “This is just the sort of thing that he’s going to need going into Genesis!” Herrington raises Birdman’s hand a third time, but this time it stays in the air!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“He’s still in there!” shouts Mak. “Give credit to Birdman for having the resilience to try and fight his way back into this match!”

 

“He must have a spine made out of a gummy worm to not give up in that hold!” snipes a disbelieving King. “I just can’t see a way that he’ll be able to come back to win this!” Birdman plants his palm and his knees against the canvas, surprising Spike as he pushes himself up a few inches as he tries to scoot closer to the edge of the ring.

 

“Look at this!” exclaims Mak, as Birdman pushes himself up a second time. “Birdman’s making a move towards the ropes!” Birdy reaches out towards the ropes, but is nearly a full arm-length short, and realizes that he’s going to have to make one more push.

 

“He’ll never make it,” insists King. Spike tenses his body to try and make his weight more difficult for Birdman to move, but the Bird shifts his body to tilt towards the right as he pushes himself up, taking Jenkins off-balance as he makes one more desperate push towards the ropes…

 

 

Six more…

 

 

Three more…

 

 

Two more…

 

 

ONE MORE!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

The fans cheer excitedly as Birdman gets his fingers around the bottom rope! Red Herrington orders Jenkins to let go, but the King of Cambodia takes every bit of his five-count before finally letting go!

 

“He made it,” says Mak, “but how much does he have left?” Jenkins drags Birdman away from the ropes and begins delivering a grueling series of kneedrops between Birdy’s shoulder blades! He then rolls Birdman over onto his back and applies a lateral press:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO! BIRDMAN GETS THE SHOULDER UP!

 

 

“This Birdman is tough!” marvels Francis. “I thought that he was done there, for sure!” Jenkins pulls Birdman to his feet, but the Bird stuns him with a rabbit punch to the midsection!

 

“And look at Birdman fire back!” shouts Mak, as Birdy delivers another shot to the midsection. Birdman with a chop to the chest, followed by a headbutt which staggers the King of Cambodia! Birdman runs towards the edge of the ring…

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

… But Spike raises his arm as he quickly spins around, blasting Birdman in the face as he bounces off the ropes with a ferocious rolling elbow smash! Spike unexpectedly cries out in pain, rubbing his elbow as Birdman falls backwards into the ropes!

 

“Wow!” shrieks Mak. “Spike had Birdman scouted and came out of nowhere with that rolling elbow… but he looks like he hurt his own elbow!”

 

“I told you!” roars King, as Spike stuns Birdman with a boot to the midsection. “That mask is loaded! He’s probably got a metal plate in it!” Spike traps Birdman in a double-underhook and then pops his hips as he falls backwards, taking the Bird over with a Butterfly suplex!

 

“Give credit to Spike Jenkins!” praises King, as Jenkins returns to a sitting position, still favoring his elbow. “A lot of guys would have stopped fighting when Birdman started to make his comeback, but Spike stuck it out and regained control of the match!” The King of Cambodia gets to his feet and heads over to the nearby corner.

 

“Why isn’t he going for the cover, though?” asks Mak, as Spike begins to climb up the turnbuckles.

 

“Obviously he doesn’t feel like he’s done enough to put Birdman away,” replies King, “and he’s going to try and put the finishing touches on this match!”

 

“But, by going to the top rope?” asks Mak incredulously. “I think this is a mistake, King!”

 

“Not if he hits it!” The King of Cambodia crosses his arms overhead to taunt the fans…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And the Bird suddenly gets to his feet, leaping onto the turnbuckles besides Jenkins, grapevining his left leg as he grabs him in a side headlock, and falling backwards to slam Spike into the canvas with a Russian legsweep! Birdy quickly rolls to his feet and hops off the canvas, crashing down across Spike’s throat with a legdrop before finally collapsing exhaustedly.

 

 

RAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

“Big desperation move by the Birdman!” exclaims Mak. “He caught Spike Jenkins being overconfident, and now he’s got a chance to turn this match around!” Red Herrington begins to deliver a ten-count to both men:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

“It’s anybody’s match at this point,” reflects King. “The next guy that hits a big move will probably win it!”

 

 

SIX!

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

Spike sits up wearily! He crawls over to Birdman and collapses atop him for a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Birdman kicks out at two! Jenkins pulls Birdman to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring; he hangs onto Birdy’s arm and follows him into the ropes, greeting him as he rebounds with a kneelift to the midsection! Spike whips Birdman across the ring a second time, and buries another knee into his abdominal area as he comes off the ropes! Jenkins then pulls Birdy away from the ropes and grapevines his near leg, and tries to hook a side headlock in order to apply a Russian legsweep, but the Bird reaches across with his far arm to punch the King of Cambodia in his belly! It takes a second belly punch, and then a third, before he can finally get free, and then Birdman stuns him with a headbutt! Birdy then runs to the ropes, but Jenkins sidesteps him as he rebounds and applies a waistlock; he pushes Birdman across the ring and into the ropes, before pulling him backwards into a rolling cradle!

 

 

“Rolling cradle!” shouts King. “This could be it!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

Birdman pushes Spike off of him and into the ropes, scrambles behind him and hooks inside his leg as he staggers back and pulls him backwards into a schoolboy pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR— NO!

 

 

 

 

Spike kicks out at two and then beats Birdman to his feet, smacking him in the face with a forearm smash that seems to hurt him more than his opponent; he does succeed in stunning Birdman, though, and Jenkins takes advantage to whip him into a nearby corner. Birdman adeptly leaps onto the middle turnbuckle and springs back into the ring, body extended to deliver a cross-body block, but the King of Cambodia catches him in midair, rolling through and reversing into a pinning predicament!

 

“Excellent counter!” exclaims King, as Herrington dives into position to count:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

 

 

“Birdman came within an eyelash of being pinned there!” shouts Mak. “Boy, I thought Spike had him!” Jenkins pulls Birdman to his feet and leads him over to the nearby corner; he grabs him by the back of the head to ram it into the top turnbuckle, but the Bird gets his foot up on the middle turnbuckle to block it! He then counters by grabbing Spike by the back of the head and slamming him face-first into the top turnbuckle! He grabs Jenkins by the wrist and whips him across the ring, following him into the corner and leaping into the air to crush him against the turnbuckles with a Stinger Splash! Birdman runs to the ropes as Jenkins staggers out of the corner and grabs him by the head as he leaps into the air…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… Driving him face-first into the canvas with a bulldog!

 

“Oh my goodness!” shouts Mak. “Birdman has suddenly put it all together here!” Birdy quickly exits to the apron and climbs up to the top turnbuckle; without even taking the time to salute the crowd, he leaps from the top turnbuckle…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And crashes into Jenkins with the Bird Dropping! Birdman rolls over to apply a cover:

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

DING!

DING!

DING!

 

 

The crowd erupts as “Let’s Get Retarded” begins playing again! Birdman collapses onto his back as Herrington goes over to raise his hand. The exhausted Bird rolls onto his stomach and begins to push himself up on his hands and knees as Funyon makes the official announcement:

 

“Here is you winner,” he bellows, “the Birdman!” Birdy crawls over to the edge of the ring and uses the ropes to pull himself back up to his feet.

 

“What a great opening match!” exclaims Mak. “What a great way to open Lockdown, as Birdman gets a big win over one of the top contenders to the Cruiserweight Title! That’s definitely going to shoot him up in the rankings!” Birdman stumbles over to a nearby corner and climbs up to the middle turnbuckle; he looks out to the crowd and thanks them for their support with his signature birdcall:

 

Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!

 

“We’ll be right back,” says Mak, “with more great action here on Lockdown!”

[chirs3 0]

“Guys, please don’t fight!”

 

Mike Stephens and Landon Maddix are standing nearly nose to nose, when Stephens backs away raking a hand through his hair trying to honor Megan Skye’s request. Seemingly willing himself to calm down, he takes a deep breath and thinks things through. Right. That didn’t help at all.

 

“You just had to nose your way into this didn’t ya’?” Mike rushes out, shaking his head. “You’re my tag partner not my bloody boyfriend, Maddix, so please don’t get involved in this.”

 

“You’re damn right I’m not your boyfriend-

 

“-Then hitch up your trousers and act like it cause with the way you’ve been getting in my stuff, I feel like I’m a fuckin’ catcher!” Landon cringes at the seemingly rough insinuating that he has been a huge pain in Mike Stephens’s ass recently.

 

“Woah, W-T-M-I man! Way too much information!” Maddix says, shaking theatrically from head to toe. Mike can only smirk at Landon’s overacting, while Maddix smiles. Luckily, Stephens joke has diffused a lot of the tension between the two. “Hey, supposedly Joe had a laundry list of reasons why he didn’t want you in a ring against him before I even got there. I just, rightfully I might add, pointed out that your head isn’t in the game, Mike. I don’t know what would make you accept a match with this guy Drake-”

 

“-I made a promise you wanker.” Stephens interrupts, rolling his eyes. “You might not understand this because even when you’re telling the truth you’re lying, but I stick to my word.”

 

Maddix nods his head and shrugs as if to say ‘Yeah, your right.’ before speaking up again.

 

“This loser has been curtain jerking since he got here, but after being booked in one match against me, Peters bumped him up the card.” Landon responds, pointing his thumb at himself. “And now that he’s getting a taste of what it’s like to fight a Main Eventer, I’m gonna’ show him just why he’s been toiling in the opener!”

 

“Loser?” Mike asks, near incredulous. “What are you talking about? He hasn’t lost a match yet and in that last match against Akira, Gabe didn’t look rusty at all like he did against Ced at Ground Zero…”

 

Stephens pauses. The blank look on Landon’s face doesn’t bode well.

 

“He’s undefeated?” Maddix responds. “A month and a half in the fed and he hasn’t lost yet? That’s a surpri-”

 

“-Landon, you stupid ponce, how can you not know he’s undefeated if you’ve watch the tape on him!” Another awkward silence follows this statement, causing Megan Skye to just shake her head. Landon had once heard a joke that said every awkward silence a gay baby was born. If that’s the case then the world just gained two new happy offspring, because Mike looks like he can’t believe this conversation going this way. “Landon, tell me you’ve watched his matches at least?! You normally do your homework. It’s one of the reasons we’re as good as we are as a tag team, because we have the similar work ethics.”

 

“Actually, I’d say I’m more naturally gifted than you. I got tired of watching all that tape after I finished teaming with Hawke and JJ.” Prick is the first thing that comes to Mike’s mind, as Landon continues. “That’s what Megs is for. I’m the brawn and she’s the breasts—err, brain… I mean brain!”

 

Even when he’s being a prick, Landon Maddix is a funny guy. The slip-up causes Stephens to let out a chuckle, which he suppresses quickly, remembering the seriousness of the situation.

 

(“Not that you aren’t the breasts too.”)

 

(“Gee, thanks Landon.)

 

“Gabe isn’t a joke.” Mike says slowly, lowering his voice. “Take him seriously.”

 

“Yeah Landon, I have to agree with Stephens this time.” Megan offers, finally feeling she can add something to the conversation. “We normally always have a plan, but you didn’t even consult me on this one.”

 

“I shouldn’t have to tell you these things, Landon, since we both agree you’re not my boyfriend-”

 

“-And you’re not my mum either, Mike, so don’t tell me what to do. I volunteered for this match not just for you, but me as well. I’m a two time World Heavyweight Champ—a goddamn Grand Slam champion, but Drake’s been taking pot shots at me since I first met him, like I’m some kind of joke.”

 

For the first time in a long time, Stephens sees Landon scowl.

 

“If beating him is what it takes to shut his mouth, then it’s about time he got shut the hell up. I’m Landon Maddix and just because this guy did a few years in the joint he thinks he’s “hard”!” Maddix adds the air-quotes for dramatic affect. “Hell, the way you drive I’m surprised you haven’t gotten charged with manslaughter!”

 

Stephens know that they talked about this, but he doesn’t think Landon really gets it. Gabe went to jail. For Manslaughter. Maybe if he knew the whole story; just why Gabe’s after Mike beyond the time spent in jail, it’d get across the seriousness of the situation. Why Gabriel Drake is about to snap. How he ruined his life.

 

“You’re right, Landon. I’ll leave you to it.” Mike gives a smile that doesn’t quite reach his ears. “I’m gonna’ find, Amy. Give ‘em hell.”

 

Mike Stephens turns his back to his tag partner and exits the room with a hand raised in the air behind him. It’ll all come out soon enough, but that’s a story for another day…

 

FADE…

[chirs3 0]

FADE IN

 

 

We return to Lockdown with the camera revealing the House of Marvelous set inside the ring. The luxurious suede couch and matching love seat replaces the one which was destroyed last week, the red carpet replaced by crushed velvet. But the arch is still there, corded off by a velvet rope.

 

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” says Mak Francis, “it’s time for our next installment of the House of Marvelous! Only we still don’t know who his guest is supposed to be today!”

 

“Well, if tonight’s episode ends up being anywhere near as good as last week,” adds the Suicide King, “we could have a little cash cow on our hands; did you see the numbers for this segment last week?”

 

“Absolutely,” affirms Mak. “It was a rousing success all around, but can he do it again? Let’s find out!”

 

With that, Notorious BIG’s “I Love the Dough” begins to play as Michael Anderson limps his way onto the stage, pimping a white Armani and wearing a matching fedora. Behind him is the mammoth bodyguard Tracey Bruner, his charcoal suit a stark contrast to that of his employer.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “please welcome: Sir… Marvelous greets everyone with annoyingly wide smile as he makes his way to the ring. He walks slowly up the steel steps, and then waits on Bruner to get up to the apron and hold open the ropes for him before he enters the ring. Once inside, he then waits for Bruner to unhook the velvet rope before he passes through the arch and picks the microphone up from the stand as his music fades out.

 

“Welcome,” drawls Anderson, “to the House of MAAAAARVELOUS! Once again, I am your host, Sir Marvelous, and I’d like to thank all of you wonderful fans at home for making the House of Marvelous a success last week on Storm!”

 

There are a few respectful pops, but also a smattering of boos as Marvelous continues. “My guest tonight has been away from the SWF for a while, ever since he lost a Loser Leaves match last December…”

 

“Oh no!” groans King. “It can’t be!”

 

“He is a former United States Champion, a former ICTV Champion, a former International Champion,” continues Anderson, “a four-time Tag Team Champion, a former World Cruiserweight Champion, and a two-time former World Heavyweight Champion!”

 

 

 

 

 

The lights drop out while the SmarkTron lights up, drawing all eyes to the giant screen. However, it takes a few seconds before anything happens. All that is seen is a pitch black screen, drawing a small murmur from the crowd and a nauseating sigh from the Suicide King.

 

“For god’s sake, can’t we just get this over with?” questions the Gambling Man. Mak just shrugs his shoulders.

 

Finally, and suddenly, a flame ignites on the screen, lighting a fuse that goes to some sort of explosive off screen as an alarming sound--the opening to the Mission Impossible theme-- blares from the speakers!

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

The crowd instantly recognizes the tune as not only the song from a hit TV show but to the only man who would enter the building to the very same song! He’s not here yet, though, not till a small explosion of pyro blast across the stage as the Mission Impossible theme swings into full gear, and a sea of colorful lights washes over the stage. Finally, after nine months of not being seen comes a man who swore he’d never step foot back into an SWF arena, and he comes rising through the floor!

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” shouts Anderson. “Please a warm House of Marvelous welcome for: Johnny ‘the Barracuda’ DAAAAANGEROUS!”

 

Johnny stands with his back facing the fans, his hands clasped behind his back, and his head hung low as he rises up from the floor. He is dressed in black slacks with a black form fitting shirt, and black alligator skin shoes. A pair of high-tech shades rest on his face and a white, curly wire hangs from behind his ear from his ear piece. Once the platform comes to a halt he slowly turns around and then thrusts his fist into the air for another thunderous pop!

 

“It IS the Barracuda!’ beams Francis. “Sir Marvelous has really outdone himself this time; bringing the Barracuda in is such a bold move!”

 

“For Pete’s sake,” grumbles King. “You call having Johnny Dangerous on the House of Marvelous a ‘bold’ move?”

 

“Well, I wasn’t too sure if we’d ever see him show his face in here again. Sir Marvelous already mentioned that he left after losing a Loser Leaves match to Wildchild but, at the time, I think Johnny leaving may have been the best thing for him. Now he’s back… and he could be better than ever!”

 

“He should have stayed gone if you ask me,” King bitterly adds. “Johnny Dangerous has never, nor will he ever bring anything even remotely noteworthy to the table!”

 

“Well, you are talking about a man who has won eleven championships in his tenure with the SWF.”

 

“And I’m also talking about a man who has *lost* eleven championships in his tenure,” King counters, as Johnny Dangerous slides into the ring. He comes to his feet and heads for the nearest corner turnbuckle, climbs up, and pumps his fist as flashbulbs pop from all corners of the arena. The music fades as the Barracuda hops down from the post and tries to make his way towards Anderson, but Big Bruner gets in his way, making it clear that he has to pass through the arch. It takes the Barracuda a few seconds to figure out what the wordless Bruner is driving at, and then he finally rolls his eyes as he moves in front of the velvet rope.

 

“At least we’re seeing a little protocol being observed here,” remarks King. Finally, Johnny is allowed to enter the main “room,” where Anderson is waiting with a smile across his face and a microphone in his hand. Marvelous extends his right arm to shake Johnny’s hand.

 

“Johnny Dangerous,” begins Anderson. “First of all I would like to welcome you to the House of Marvelous, as well as welcoming you back to the SWF! It’s an honor and a privilege for an eleven-time champion to be a guest on my show, and I’m sure that it’s an honor and a privilege for you to be a part of the newest and hottest fifteen minutes of SWF programming!”

 

The fans react with a mixture of cheers and boos as Anderson pauses. “It’s been a while since we last saw you so I think I’d like to start by simply open up the floor for you.”

 

Johnny leans into the microphone to his lips…and then stops.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

The crowd is obviously excited to have such a decorated superstar back into the fold and they shower him with yet another pop, and then a chant of his name starts!

 

“JOHN-EEE!”

“JOHN-EEE!”

“JOHN-EEE!”

“JOHN-EEE!”

 

 

“You can’t be serious,” laments King. “These people are sheep, I tell you!”

 

“What do you mean by that?” asks Mak.

 

“These people would have been ready to shoot him on sight a year ago,” replies King. “Now they’re welcoming him with open arms?”

 

 

Johnny looks back and forth from one section of the crowd to the other, beaming from ear-to-ear. To say the Barracuda was a little worried about how his appearance would be met by the fans would be an understatement. After they way he acted on his way out the door he actually WOULDN’T have been surprised one bit to have the fans revolt on first sight of him, but so far it’s been anything but that and it certainly takes a huge load of the shoulders of Johnny Dangerous.

 

“Indeed, it has been a while!” Johnny says in agreement after the crowd settles. “However, it was the amount of time I needed to get my head straight and my priorities in order. When you last saw me I had become a man that I never wanted to become. I let an obsession with trying to become the SWF World Heavyweight Championship rule my every waking moment…I let it consume my life…and I have to apologize to all of you for putting you through that time in my life.”

 

“Apologize?” says King, aghast over what he’s hearing. “That Championship *should* rule every waking moment of your life! It’s the only reason for being here! And what’s with that ear piece; is someone feeding him lines from the back?”

 

“He’s a secret agent – all agents have those! Now will you please shut up and let the man talk?”

 

“I know some of you would have rather not been reminded of the past,” Johnny continues, “but coming here to apologize for my past behaviors was the main reason I agreed to come to the House of Marvelous.”

 

“Excellent,” says Anderson, butting right in. “Now I’m sure everyone forgives you for the past as its water under the bridge or over the dam, which ever you prefer, but the question everyone is dying to know is what you are planning to do now that you’re back in an SWF ring?”

 

“Truth be told, I didn’t come here to wrestle, Mister Anderson. I came here to apologize to all the millions that have supported me throughout my career in the SWF,” Johnny responds, and his words cause dozens of shoulders to slump, and groans to ring forth from the audience. Apparently these fans were hoping to see the Barracuda in action.

 

“However,” the Barracuda continues, sensing that letdown feeling emanating from the fans. “I couldn’t exactly give back to those who supported me without getting into this ring and kicking somebody’s ass!”

 

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

 

“Well then, Mister Dangerous,” drawls Marvelous, “with that in mind, I have just one question to ask you: just where were you on the evening of Friday the first?”

 

“Here we go!” says King. “Sir Marvelous has him on the spot! Let’s see him try to weasel his way out of this!” Johnny looks out into the crowd, which provides him with encouragement by stomping their feet on the ground, creating a cadence that echoes throughout the arena. Finally, Johnny leans back in towards the microphone to answer….

 

 

When he’s suddenly interrupted by the sounds of sirens, as “Hyphy Juice” by The Team hit the speakers, and Mike Van Siclen stomps through the curtain.

 

 

“Hold up!” shouts the Spectacle, through a microphone of his own, “hold the (bleep) up!” Van Siclen power walks down the aisle as he makes his way to the ring.

 

“Mike Van Siclen was out here last week!” complains Mak. “Nobody invited him!”

 

“Evidently he invited himself,” replies King. “Besides, after what happened last week, he probably feels like he has a vested interest in what Dangerous has to say!”

 

“You’re not fooling anybody!” insists Van Siclen, as he steps into the ring. “I know that you and your buddy Wildchild are just trying to humiliate me, and I’m not going to stand for it anymore!”

 

“Mister Van Siclen,” asks Marvelous, “is there something that I can help you with?”

 

“All I want,” replies the Spectacle, “is to hear it from this little bastard’s own lips, so that I have the final bit of proof that I need to put his little friend out of the SWF for good! Now I know that you’re not really the Birdman, so you might as well admit who really is!”

 

“Yeah!” barks King. “Admit it; who really is the Birdman?”

 

“How about it, Mister Dangerous?” asks Anderson. “Who really IS the Birdman?” Johnny looks apologetically out into the crowd before leaning towards the microphone to respond to the question…

 

 

YA BEST PROTECT YA NECK!

 

 

… When suddenly Wu Tang’s “Protect Ya Neck” begins to play! The fans begin cheering as Akira Kaibatsu steps out onto the stage, holding a microphone.

 

“It’s Akira Kaibatsu!” shouts Mak. “What’s he doing out here?” Akira’s music quickly fades out and he raises the microphone to his lips.

 

“This charade has gone on long enough!” says the Divine Wind. Surprised, Mike Van Siclen nods his head in the affirmative from inside the ring. “All this incessant speculation and questioning about who the Birdman really is! It’s time to finally set the record straight!”

 

“Damn right!” agrees King. “Let’s put it all out in the open!”

 

“Holy cow!” shrieks Mak. “Has Akira known who Birdman really is all this time?” Kaibatsu raises the microphone to his lips and says…

 

 

 

“I’m the Birdman!”

 

 

 

“What?” Mak and King exclaim simultaneously.

 

 

Johnny begins grinning as MVS’s eyes bulge in disbelief. “Don’t try and feed me that (bleep)!” roars the Spectacle. You weren’t even in the fed when Birdman first showed up; you couldn’t POSSIBLY be the Birdman! I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I don’t have time for this…”

 

 

Van Siclen is suddenly interrupted, as “Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains starts to play, heralding the arrival of Alan Rickmen, the Insane Luchador!

 

“Now, what the hell does HE want?” King wonders aloud. “And where did he get a microphone?”

 

“You know, Mike,” says the Ill One, “You’ve got a damned good point! We both know that Akira is way too young to have been around in 2004 when the Birdman debuted; it’s obvious that it wasn’t him!”

 

“Damned right!” screams MVS, not even needing microphone to be heard.

 

“Obviously the Birdman is someone who’s been around a while,” continues IL. “Someone who has a little quickness, but can also fight… Someone who likes to take risk, but can go a little old school. I mean, the signs are obvious!”

 

Van Siclen nods affirmatively, until the Luchador shocks him and the crowd by what he says next:

 

 

“I’m the Birdman!”

 

 

 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

 

 

The fans get a good laugh, as does Johnny inside the ring. MVS, on the other hand, is seething.

 

“Who the hell is he kidding?” snaps King. “Rickman was masquerading as that damned Penguin when Birdman debuted. Hell, he fought Birdman IN HIS FIRST MATCH! He can’t expect anyone to believe that he’s the Birdman!”

 

The Spectacle raises the microphone to his lips to speak, but just as he opens his mouth…

 

 

 

 

Here is something you can’t understand…

 

 

HOW I COULD JUST KILL A MAN!

 

 

The fans start cheering as Stryke makes his way out to the stage, accompanied by Ced Ordonez, and also endowed with a microphone.

 

“No, wait… don’t tell me,” says Mak, through a smile, “Stryke’s the Birdman… or is Ced the Birdman?”

 

“Before you say anything,” begins Stryke, as his music fades out, “I know what you’re thinking… neither of us is reliable enough to be the Birdman. And you know what? You’re right! We’re NOT reliable enough to be the Birdman.”

 

Ced suddenly reaches over and snatches the microphone. “Individually,” he says. “That’s why… we’re BOTH the Birdman!”

 

 

 

 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

 

The fans are definitely rolling now! Johnny is laughing so hard that he’s leaning against the ropes to feel from falling over, while Mike Van Siclen is starting to turn purple.

 

“I don’t have time for this (bleep)!” sputters the Spectacle, as he gets the microphone up to his lips. “I don’t know who put you up to this, and I don’t give a (bleep), but I know damned well that none of you are really the Birdman, so you might as well cut this out right…”

 

 

Once again, Van Siclen is interrupted, this time by Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly!”

 

“What the hell?” shouts King. “No way… no damned way!” The Dean of Professional Wrestling makes his way out onto the stage, also brandishing a microphone.

 

“Gee,” says Mak. “I wonder what Jay Hawke has to say?”

 

“And where the hell did all these microphones come from?” demands King. “Whoever’s in charge of the A/V budget needs to be fired!”

 

“Let’s get down to brass tacks,” says Hawke, as his music fades out. “Obviously, Akira Kaibatsu isn’t the Birdman… Obviously this brain-dead hardcore freak isn’t, either; neither are either of these two scrubs! I mean, yeah, we all had a good laugh at Van Siclen’s expense, but enough is enough already!”

 

“Finally,” sighs King. “Somebody to return this segment to the real world!”

 

“If you want to figure out who the Birdman is, all you have to do is look at the signs: somebody who has established himself as one of the most versatile wrestlers in the SWF; he’s gotten some big wins over big names, and practically made himself synonymous with the Cruiserweight Division. Hell, he’s pretty much established himself as one of the top stars in all the SWF for the whole time that he’s been here, and someone that I’m very familiar with on a personal basis. I mean, it should be blatantly obvious who it is!”

 

“Hell yeah!” cheers King. “Now we’re going to hear it!” Jay Hawke raises the microphone to his lips and says…

 

 

 

“I’M the Birdman!”

 

 

 

 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

 

“This is way past ridiculous!” growls King. “I can’t believe this!”

 

 

“SHUT UP!” screams MVS. “All of you, just shut the (bleep) up! I don’t know why you’re all sticking up for him, but you’re just delaying the inevitable!” Van Siclen stops to compose himself, while the fans begin cheering as Birdman sneaks into the ring behind him from out in the crowd.

 

“It’s the Birdman!” shouts Mak, as Birdman brandishes a Singapore Cane for the crowd. “The REAL Birdman!”

 

“I’m going to prove that Wildchild is really the Birdman,” continues the oblivious Spectacle. “And then, I’M going to be the one with the last laugh! And there’s nothing that any of you bastards will be able to do about…”

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

Birdman smacks Van Siclen in the top of the head with the cane! Johnny suddenly runs over to assist him as he and Birdman trap MVS in a double front-facelock, before driving the Spectacle into the canvas with a double DDT!

 

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“How much more proof do you need?” bellows King. “It’s him! It’s GOT to be him!” Johnny slides out onto the floor and reaches underneath the ring, carefully pulling out a large bucket filled with some kind of liquid.

 

“What’s Johnny reaching for underneath the ring?” wonders Mak. “What’s in the bucket?” Johnny lifts the bucket onto the apron, and Birdman pulls up the bottom rope as he slides the bucket into the ring. He then gets back into the ring and helps Birdman empty the contents of the bucket onto the Spectacle.

 

“I don’t know what was in that bucket,” says Mak, but now it’s all over Mike Van Siclen!” Birdman runs over to the corner facing the ramp and leaps onto the top turnbuckle. He gives out his signature birdcall:

 

 

Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!

 

 

And then, he and Johnny both bail out of the ring without warning!

 

“That’s weird,” notes Mak. “What do you suppose they were in such a hurry to get out of the ring for…?”

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

Mak is interrupted as a giant stream of bird seed suddenly pours down from the rafters into the center of the ring, all over Mike Van Siclen.

 

 

“No!” moans Sir Marvelous, as the torrent of seed jars Van Siclen back into consciousness. “Not the set! Not the set!”

 

 

“Birdseed!” shouts Mak. “And Mike Van Siclen is covered in it!” I don’t know what that liquid was, but it was obviously something sticky, to get that birdseed to stay stuck to Mike Van Siclen… But why?” As if to answer his question, Birdman once again makes his trademark cry:

 

 

Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!

 

 

And suddenly a noise that sounds like a loud shuffling can be heard throughout the arena.

 

“Do you hear something?” asks Mak.

 

“Yeah,” replies King. “But I have no idea what it is.” Suddenly, the shuffling grows greater in intensity…

 

 

“LOOK OUT!”

 

 

 

And a veritable plague of birds descends upon the ring, all zeroing in on Mike Van Siclen!

 

 

“AAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

 

“The birds!” squeals Mak. “The birds are eating Van Siclen alive!”

 

The Spectacle tries to run away from the birds, only to trip over the luxurious couch! He scrambles to his feet and tries to make a break for it... only to crash into one of the columns! Finally, he squirts underneath the ring and dives desperately over the ring barricade into the crowd, but the Birds follow him!

 

“My goodness!” shouts Mak, as MVS runs for dear life off into the crowd. “That was one of the most unusual interviews that I’ve seen in quite some time! Something’s got to be done to clear out the ring, and then we’ll be right back with more Lockdown!”

 

Sir Marvelous is standing in the ring with a pitiful expression, bemoaning the destruction of his precious set for the second straight week…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[chirs3 0]

Tom Flesher sits in his dressing room, his ass firmly planted on a couch, with his feet propped up on his coffee table. Next to his feet sits a 750-millilitre bottle of Unibroue Terrible ale, with half of the dark beer poured into a pint glass, and a plate with a large fried fish filet on it. Idly, Flesher picks at some of the french fries next to it, then shakes malt vinegar onto them before sampling them again.

 

"James?" he shouts, his mouth still full. "James, do you have that protein shake?"

 

"Jesus, Tom," says James Matheson, as he walks in holding a large shake. "I know you're off tonight, but you're eating like a pig in heat. What's the deal?"

 

"Did you call Peters?" asks Flesher, quaffing some of the Terrible ale. "Oh, sorry," he says with a chuckle, "I answered your question with another question."

 

"Are you drunk?"

 

Flesher belches. "Of course not. Are you telling me that a man can't drink three bottles of beer without getting drunk?"

 

"Tipsy?"

 

"Slightly."

 

"Peters is on his way."

 

"Oh, good," says Flesher, sitting up straight. He picks up the Cruiserweight Championship, which had been under his boots, and slings it onto the couch next to him. "We'll get everything settled, right?"

 

Matheson sighs. "Right, Tom."

 

Almost on cue, Joe Peters knocks at the door and sticks his head in. "Tom? James? What can I do for you?"

 

"Beer?" asks Flesher.

 

"No thanks," Peters says dryly.

 

"Mind if I smoke?" Flesher asks, lifting a Turkish Royal to his lips. He lights it up and takes a long drag, still looking inquisitively at Peters.

 

"I wish you wouldn't."

 

"Thanks," Tom replies absently, blowing the smoke upwards toward the venting system.

 

"You know," Peters says, "that vents into other dressing rooms."

 

Tom perks. "Toxxic's?" he asks.

 

Peters raises his eyebrows. "What can I do for you fellows tonight?"

 

"You know from working with him," says Matheson, "that Tom Flesher is concerned about one thing above and beyond all else... what's good for business is good for the SWF, and what's good for the SWF is good for its top star."

 

"Pension," says Flesher, before dragging on the cigarette again. "For after the knees give out."

 

"Er... yes, the pension is part of it," says an embarrassed Matheson, "although we'd much rather just have a place to keep working for the next few years. I've done some research, Joe, and I think what we should do..."

 

Matheson cracks open his briefcase, pulling out a few sheets of paper. He hands them to Peters, who pages through them for a moment.

 

"An official weigh-in?" asks Peters.

 

"Sure," says Matheson. "They do it all the time in boxing. If you do it far enough in advance, you can really pop the walk-up ticket sales."

 

"I thought we'd already sold out," Peters says incredulously.

 

"Not even close!" Flesher grins.

 

"What Tom means," Matheson says, "is that we're close to baseball capacity, but they've been moving the equipment around, and so we can probably fit a few thousand more fans in. You can't ignore that kind of potential revenue. Plus, ity would be great for the press. We can call out the Toronto Sun, the Globe & Mail, have you and the wrestlers answer questions, it'll make the front page no problem."

 

Peters looks thoughtfully at the papers. "What kind of revenue stream are we looking at?"

 

Flesher takes a bite of his fish and chips.

 

"Well," Matheson says, "we're not quite sure, but we project that doing it a week ahead of time will have the best effect."

 

"And this weigh-in...?"

 

"Official weights. It shouldn't be a problem. Like I said, they do it in boxing all the time."

 

Flesher starts toying with his food, then picks up an especially large forkful of fish and jams it into his mouth. He looks slightly alarmed for a moment before grabbing his glass of beer and pouring a few sips into his mouth. The added liquid helps him swallow the excess, and, like a two-year-old, he goes back for another large bite.

 

"Well," Peters says, eyeing Flesher, "Michael Stephens isn't going to have a problem making weight... but the way Tom's eating tonight, I'm not sure you're going to want to do that. Are you sure this is in your client's best interest?"

 

"Like I said, Joe, what's good for business is good for Tom."

 

Tom takes another sip of beer, then another drag off the cigarette, before belching a mouthful of smoke. Flushed, he begins giggling stupidly as he contemplates the absurdity of his vices coming together at such an opportune time.

 

".... has he been eating like this all week?" asks Peters.

 

"For longer than that. Mak was right - he's been pretty beefy. He actually didn't make weight for the Johnson match, but they didn't want to cancel it just because Tom walked in at 235."

 

"Hey!" shouts Flesher. "I wasn't a pound over 237."

 

Matheson sighs. "Tom, finish your beer. You're overstimulated." He looks back at Peters. "Tom wants this one," he says.

 

"Well," Peters replies, "I have to tell you... if Tom doesn't make weight, we can't just make it a non-title match. It would kill the drama of the night. Here's what I can do - as long as Tom makes weight, and that's 230 pounds, the match goes down as planned. If Tom is over, even by a tenth of a pound, then he keeps his shot at the World Championship, but he gets stripped of the Cruiserweight Championship."

 

Flesher looks up. "This Cruiserweight Championship?" He grabs the belt off the couch and chucks it across the room, letting it come to rest in the far corner. "Do you want it? You can have it."

 

"AND," Peters says, "if he gets stripped of the belt, he has to repay every weekly bonus he's gotten for holding it."

 

"But I already spent that!" Flesher protests.

 

"Then I guess you better make weight," says Peters.

 

"You're an asshole," Flesher says, his tact not what it usually is.

 

"I'm an asshole who gets to make the matches," says Peters. "Better get out the sauna suit, Tom."

 

"Yeah, yeah," says Flesher. "After I finish my beer."

 

~fade~

[chirs3 0]

“I’m here with one half of the SWF Tag Team Champion’s Landon Maddix and the perfect ten Megan Skye, who have a match with the undefeated ‘Beast’ Gabriel Drake!”

 

“Undefeated? The guy was out of the game for a few years and won a couple of matches.” Maddix begins, already rolling his eyes. “You’re acting like he tore a quad or something and made a grand comeback. Hell, I just got out of the joint last night and you don’t see me crying about having to be some guys bitch! I’m the guy who had the bitches and let me tell you, I got a lot of cigarettes off their backs!”

 

Ben looks at Landon like he’s grown a second head and then turns to Megan who just shrugs. Landon, always one for melodrama, acts as if he finally caught up with the rest of the audience and corrects the situation.

 

“Eew, get your mind out of the gutter, Hardy! We cheated at cards!”

 

Ben continues on undaunted.

 

“Your latest public intoxication charges aside, Landon, are you ready to face the SWF rookie?”

 

“You hit the nail on the head for once, Benjamin! Drake is a rookie. I earned my stripes in the JL and won pretty much every title the SWF has. They don’t call me Grand Slam Landon for nothing, folks. Sure, he’s decent, but Landon Maddix is decenter!” Landon pauses unsure himself if that’s even a word (It’s not by the way). “I can’t wait to get in the ring with him because after tonight the Beast is going to be my bitch.”

 

“You certainly seem like you wanted this match badly.” Hardy adds. “Word is you took this match right out from under your fellow skinny white guy, Michael Stephens-”

 

“Stop right there, Hardy. I made a choice that I believe is for the overall good of Two Skinny White Guys! Mike did want the match, but now that he understands why I did it, he said he’d leave me to it.” Hardy is surprised as Landon pulls the mike out of his hand and by Maddix’s change in demeanor. “Right here, Gus!” Landon shouts suddenly, signaling for a close up with his hand. “Apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t get all the hype for some reason and tonight I’m going to prove that the headliner, the showstoppah, the Main Event… wait, that’s somebody else’s line—I’m going to prove that against a bona-fide Main Eventer, Gabe Drake is the great big white hype and Landon Maddix is still the true skinny white hope!”

 

Hardy cues Gus to pull away as we…

 

FADE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or the camera would have faded if ‘the Beast’ Gabriel Drake hadn’t just burst into the Two Skinny White Guys locker-room and mauled Landon Maddix with a blindside attack!! A loud static-filled sound echoes in the room, as Skye falls into a wall and Maddix drops the mike trying to recover from Drake’s follow-up straight right hand! Still somewhat stunned by the sucker-punch, Landon lands on the sofa behind him!

 

‘It’s Gabriel Drake!’ Mak shouts. ‘What the hell is he doing there?’

 

‘Beating Landon’s ass!’

 

King cheers, as Drake keeps on peppering him with punches while he tries to get to his feet! Gus attempts to follow the action while Maddix falls backwards from another blow, knocking over the sofa!! Throwing a chair aside after finally getting some separation, Landon attempts to fight back, grabbing Gabe around the waist and punching weakly at his stomach! Sadly, he’s already way too far behind against the larger Drake, who continues his assault with wicked clubbing blows from both hands!!

 

Picking the hurting Maddix up to his knees, Gabe shoves his head down and-

 

CRACK!

 

-MURDERS him with a knee to the nose!! La Cucaracha blinks in pain, trying to wipe at his nose, but this leaves him wide open to Drake!

 

‘This is a mugging!’

 

‘And I’m lovin’ every second of it, Francis!’ King cackles. ‘Could anyone be any more deserving of this beating than Maddix?’

 

Grabbing Landon by the throat, Gabe picks him up to his feet and slams him into the wall, Maddix’s bloody nose leaking onto his hand. Drake points a finger in the struggling skinny white guys face and then speaks.

 

“I was watching on one of the TV’s outside you little co-*beep*sucker!” Gabe snarls, banging Landon’s head against the wall. “Who’s the bitch now?!”

 

The answer to that would be Megan Skye who jumps onto the frame trying to help her man, but Drake pie-faces the diva away, sending her back to her ass near the TV which is displaying the whole fight! This gives Landon the perfect opening to-

 

CHING!

 

-kick Drake low!! Now released to the floor, a sputtering Maddix stumbles towards the downed Megan Skye. Pushing his way through chair and debris from the fight, Maddix shoves Hardy (who is screaming like a girl by the way) out of his way. Suddenly the camera tips over and falls to the floor picking up a pair of feet, just as Landon checks on her. Now in the picture again, Drake clobbers him from behind!

 

“That wasn’t nice…” Gabe spits out, holding his nuts while grabbing Landon by the hair. Drake drags him towards the TV monitor-

 

SMASH!

 

-and tosses him FACE FIRST into the monitor!!! The screen spider-webs under the pressure of Maddix’s face sending shards into his forehead!! Landon sits on the floor holding his head, as Drake stands tall toeing La Cucaracha in the head! Maddix begins to crawl away, trying to get to get himself up as he goes, but Gabe circles around and grabs him by the waistband and head, wheeling around towards the monitor once more…

 

‘He’s gonna kill him!’ Mak screams…

 

 

 

 

CRRAAAASSH!

 

 

 

 

…Megan sits on the floor holding the power cord of the previously on television that Landon Maddix just took a header into!!! Drake smiles at his handiwork and then wipes his bloody hand on his shirt. “Let’s go for a walk down to ringside…” Megan breathes a sigh of relief as Maddix gets pulled out of the TV by Gabe and drug by his hair out of the room! The camera is still on Skye as she looks at the cord, then the bloody TV and then the cord again…

 

‘Jesus, what would have happened if she didn’t—and now he’s dragging him out of the room, can we get a camera out there?!’

 

‘Yeah, lets’ get a goddamn camera out there! We’re missing some of the ass kicking!’ King adds while clapping the cameras now on him and Mak. ‘The only thing better than seeing that beating on the monitors will be watching it live!’

 

‘For those of you who just tuned in—after the second sneak attack in as many weeks, Gabriel Drake has assaulted Landon Maddix, Megan Skye and even our stinkin’ camera crew!’ Mak says seething, as King continues to applaud at his side. ‘And now, to the best of our knowledge, he’s bringing him out here…’

 

There’s dead air for something like twenty seconds, with neither King nor Mak knowing what to say. Then the curtain is brushed aside and Gabriel Drake comes through the drapes pulling Landon Maddix in his wake.

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

‘Landon is a bloody mess, King. This isn’t even a match!’

 

‘Then lets’ get a ref out here!’

 

Drake smirks as he holds the hurting Tag team champion and makes it to ringside. Rolling Landon into the ring, Drake stalks around towards the timekeepers table. Suddenly the curtain opens again and Megan Skye stumbles down to the ring, looking like hell as Drake scares the bell operator out of his seat! Folding the chair with a crack, Gabe slides into the ring and watches as Landon struggles to push himself up to his hands and knees. Maddix reaches out towards Skye who bangs on the apron while trying to warn him…

 

“You made him break his promise!” Gabe yells.

 

‘Batter up!’ King bellows as Gabe yells it again swinging the chair like a baseball bat-

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

-Nearly BEHEADING Maddix, causing blood to explode from his forehead!! From the back, referee Ced Ordonez rushes down the aisle as Landon lays spread-eagle on the mat!

 

‘Here comes the ref, Mak...'

 

'Thank god!'

 

Ced Ordonez slides into the ring, but one look from Gabe with a chair in his hand sends him diving right back out, remembering his Ground Zero beating!

 

'Ced’s the smartest ref I’ve ever seen!’ King adds, while Drake slowly moves towards Landon’s left side and against the loud wishes of Megan Skye places his leg in between the folding chair trapping the pinioned limb!!!

 

‘Holy *bleep*, he’s going to break his leg!’ Mak screams, as Drake walks towards the turnbuckles, Skye pleading with Ced to do something. ‘This is just ridiculous… he’s going to pillmanize his knee!’

 

‘Let’s hope he squashes that cockroach once and for all!’

 

 

RRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

 

 

A HUMONGOUS cheer echoes throughout the arena, as Michael Stephens rushes down to ringside, Amy Stephens and a few more referees following a little bit slower!!! Mike slides into the ring headfirst and pops to his feet, staring Drake down as he hops down of the first rope and stands in the corner.

 

“You broke your promise, Toxx!” Drake shouts, pointing as he backpedals sliding out of the ring through the ropes. “I knew you would… I knew you would!”

 

Michael Stephens says nothing, not taking his eyes off Gabe until he walks over to Landon and removes the chair. Amy and Megan get into the ring, Skye quickly checking on Maddix while the female Stephens stares at Drake just like her brother is now. The refs give Gabe a wide berth as he walks backwards up the ramp way finished shouting, a cruel smile on his feature. Skye helps Maddix up to his feet, as Drake flips the bird towards the ring and then goes back through the curtain.

 

‘Looks like there won’t be a match tonight.’ King adds as an afterthought, while Landon, as his nickname would suggest, is now able to stand on his own two feet, his blond hair bloody as we…

 

FADE…

[chirs3 0]

“That’s it!” roars a bruised Mike Van Siclen, as he staggers through the office of SWF Commissioner Joseph Peters. “You’re going to put a stop to this, and you’re going to put a stop to it right (bleep)-ing now!”

 

Peters has to bite his lip to keep from bursting out laughing at the Spectacle, whom has literally become a spectacle, covered from head to toe with beak marks, and with huge bumps and bruises all over his face. “It just so happens, Michael, that I received this by courier just before the show.”

 

“What is it?” asks Van Siclen wearily.

 

“I’m not sure,” replies Peters. “I haven’t had time to look it over completely, but it was accompanied by this note.” Peters hands the note to Van Siclen, who grabs it feebly with his least-injured hand, and raises it up to eye level to look at it.

 

 

“Sign this, and I’m out of your life, no questions asked.

 

 

- WC”

 

 

“Fine,” says MVS. “Give me a pen, so I can sign!”

 

“But, wait a minute,” cautions Peters. “Are you sure you don’t want to read it first?”

 

“(Bleep) reading it!” replies Van Siclen. “Once I sign this, Wildchild is out of my life for good; that’s all I needed to see!” He flips to the signature line and scribbles his signature on it.

 

“Finally!” he says, as he turns and limps out the door. “I’m finally done with him once and for all!”

 

Peters picks the document up and skims through it. “Well… maybe not quite…”

[chirs3 0]

The lights in the Scotiabank Place go out without warning sending the Ottawans into a state of terror and confusion until…

 

"HE HAS NOT CONFESSED, HE HAS MADE NO STATEMENT, CHARGES OF MURDER HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AGAINST HIM."

 

The Canadians soon calm down as they realize that it's just the entrance of the first participants in the next contest. The red and the white light flashes twice, then twice more as smoke begins to billow out from the backstage area. The song builds in intensity and speed until it finally hits

 

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH EH!!

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen the following match is scheduled for one fall making the winners the #1 contenders for the World Tag-Team Titles." Funyon starts up, he waited for a break in the music, letting JJ Johnson's entrance play out a bit before he spoke up.

 

"Introducing first at a combined weight of 458 pounds continuing the tradition of such illustrious teams as the Can-Am Connection and… the New Can-Am Connection they are Manson and J.J. Johnson, also known as BLOOD AND THUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNDAAH!!!!!!"

 

JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!!

 

"Oh god we're still in Canada" King realizes after having successfully convinced himself that this was actually North Dakota.

 

There they stand, side by side, proud former tag-team champions looking to get another shot at glory and SWF gold. Johnson slides under the bottom ropes as Manson walks up the steps before entering the ring. Manson seems to be busy explaining the finer points of Mansonosity to JJ Johnson while the Canadian shoot fighter is busy trying to ignore Manson explain the finer points of Mansonosity so he can focus on the match.

 

"This team has tasted success already King" The Franchise says trying to come up with something to say about the rather random pairing of Manson and JJ Johnson.

 

The King has no reply, he's busy looking around

 

"What are you looking for?"

 

"I'm just wondering when Spike Jenkins is going to come down and take Manson's spot in the match" King quips.

 

"And their opponents" is all Funyon gets to say before the lights die down once more. This time the fans realize that it's probably not a terrorist attack but just the entrance of Manson & Johnson's opponents. Not even the sires and the flashing lights worry them although it does bring out an adverse reaction in them

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

"WARNING! WARNING!! Weapons of Mass Destruction detected. Impact imminent" A cold metallic female voice says over the PA system.

 

10

 

9

 

8

 

A giant backlit screen provides the only source of illumination in the entire arena and thus naturally draws the fans attention towards it

 

7

 

6

 

A couple of shadows appear on the screen, growing larger and larger as the two men get closer and closer

 

5

 

4

 

3

 

The shadows grow to approximately 15 feet as the countdown continues

 

2

 

1

 

"IMPACT

 

¤ BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooommm ¤

 

A huge mushroom cloud shoots up from the middle of the ramp as the screen drops to reveal Bruce Blank and Nemesis side by side, larger than life and at least twice as ugly.

 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAND their opponents the" Funyon pauses for a moment as he re-reads his notes to make sure he's got it right before going on "The twin towers of terror"

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

"Tasteless" is Mak's only comment

 

"The New Rookie Sensation and the SWF International Champion, they are the WEAPOOOOOOOONS OF MAAAAAASS DESTRUCTION!!!" Funyon quickly finishes, eager to get out of the ring so that he's not associated with such a crude nickname.

 

"This is our first look at the team of Bruce and Nemesis although they technically had a match together on last Lockdown" Mak says as the two big men head to the ring at their own leisurely pace.

 

"What do you mean technically? They teamed up and took on Jay Hawke" King replies

 

"I wouldn't exactly call that a match King" is Mak's only response.

 

The professor and Wayne Blank follow closely behind the two massive maulers ready to assist them at a moment's notice. While Nemesis steps up on the apron and then over the top rope into the ring Bruce unstraps his International title and hands it to Wayne Blank.

 

NINE FIFTYNINE!! NINE FIFTYNINE!! NINE FIFTYNINE!!

 

The crowd is getting on Bruce's case for losing at the last second last week and for a change he's not able to block it out. Instead of getting in the ring Bruce remains on the floor, covering his ears as Wayne yells at the fans to shut the hell up to no avail. Manson and Johnson do a quick game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who gets to start the match. Manson picks the mighty rock but Johnson favours the more intelligent approach and picks paper

 

"JOHNSON WINS!! OH MY GOD JOHNSON WINS!!" King yells out as Manson steps out of the ring.

 

"Jesh turn down the volume King"

 

"You have no concept of sarcasm do you Mak?" King replies dryly.

 

Johnson just shrugs his shoulders, then turns around and steps up to the plate - Johnson doesn't care if you're big or small, fat or skinny, white, green or purple he just wants to fight you and nothing is no different.

 

Even if his opponent has 15 inches and 182 pounds on him.

 

¤DING-DING¤ ¤DING-DING¤ ¤DING-DING¤

 

The biggest and the smallest man in the match stand face to chest, Johnson showing his trademark ice-cold intensity while Nemesis is… well Nemesis is masked so it's hard to get a feel for what he's showing. A wave of the hand invites Johnson to give it his best shot, a gesture that takes a lot of the fans by surprise.

 

"That's a mistake, that's a rookie mistake King, Johnson is a wrestling machine! You don't give him an opening, you pray for an opening against him" Mak says as Nemesis does the "come on" hand gesture

 

JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!!

 

"As dangerous as Johnson is he loses some of that impact when he can't throw the opponent around and trust me NO ONE can throw Nemesis around" King points out.

 

"That's a fair point King"

 

Johnson strokes his beard for a moment, contemplating which of his many ways of hurting someone he should chose against the big man. The stroking soon stops as Johnson nails Nemesis in the midsection with a picture perfect spin kick.

 

*POW!!*

 

The impact would probably have been enough to drop a medium sized Manatee right on the spot, it's just a shame that Nemesis is a bit bigger than "Medium sized".

 

"He hardly flinched!" King spouts, adding a bit of hyperbole to mask the fact that Nemesis did kinda, sort take a half step back from the kick.

 

Johnson turns around and holds his hand out as if he was going to tag in Manson but it quickly turns out to be a ruse as Johnson spins around like a whirling dervish and nails Nemesis square in the chest

 

*THUD!!*

 

Johnson doesn't even notice if Nemesis reacts or not as he's busy launching elbow after elbow at the big man at a rate rarely seen in wrestling. The flurry of elbows drives Nemesis back into a neutral corner where Johnson climbs up on the second rope

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH EH!!

 

Johnson grabs Nemesis' hair with his left hand and then goes to fire off another stiff elbow shot. Nemesis tilts his head down, shifting it so that Johnson's elbow doesn't connect with the side of his head but instead hits Nemesis on the top of the skull

 

*CRACK!!*

 

"Oh man that backfired! The top of the head is the hardest bone in the human body" Mak laments as Johnson grabs his elbow in pain and doubles over.

 

A quick shove later and Nemesis has pushed Johnson off the ropes, sending him crashing as he tries his best to protect his elbow. Johnson gets up, but moments later he finds himself on the canvas once more courtesy of a size "Humongous" boot upside his head from the Colossus. Both Bruce and the professor yells something to Nemesis as the big man hesitates for a moment. Then he picks up Johnson, twists his opponent's right arm behind his back and lifts him up in the air for a body slam.

 

"Mak both Bruce and the Professor are like sharks who smell blood" Mak says with disgust as the two men urge Nemesis on.

 

"They have a very well developed killer instinct Mak. You're never going to amount to much in wresting if you don't have that"

 

*WHAM!!*

 

Johnson finds himself slammed down on his trapped right arm without being able to do much about it at the moment. Nemesis grabs Johnson by the throat and the tights and hauls him back upright without much effort and then tags in Bruce. Nemesis hurls his helpless opponent towards Bruce who takes the Canadian shoot fighter down with a stiff, high impact Lariat that has so much impact behind it that it's drives the back of Johnson's head into the canvas.

 

JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!!

 

"The crowd is trying to rally JJ but I'm not sure that'll be enough" King says as the fans cheer for the home team guy.

 

"Forget rallying, he needs to tag out is what he needs to do"

 

In a move that shocks more or less everyone watching Lockdown Bruce drops down and hooks JJJ’s right arm with an arm bar!!

 

"No way!" King says in disbelief

 

"Whoa Bruce ease off on your technical matwork" Mak quips as Bruce tries his best to make Johnson's elbow bend the opposite way of how it was intended to bend.

 

"You just can't do it can you?"

 

"Can't do what King?" Mak asks half way expecting the reply "walking"

 

"You can't admit that Bruce is trying to go beyond the brawling and the garbage wrestling." King replies.

 

"Alright, alright I'll admit… that's a very nice arm bar" Mak Francis says with a boat load of sarcasm.

 

Bruce figures that he has Johnson just where he wants him, but JJJ isn't one to just give up and roll over that easily. He keeps fighting against the armbar getting up on his knees to alleviate some of the pain. Since Bruce is very inexperienced at mat wrestling he's taken totally unaware when Johnson tugs his head under and rolls over onto his back and then reaches up to headscissor Bruce's head.

 

"Nice arm bar, shame that's all he's got" Mak says sounding like he's just been vindicated.

 

Bruce twists Johnson's arm, inflicting even more pain on the shoot fighter but not enough to get him to break the headscissor. Johnson raises one leg and then drives it down, slamming his calf into Bruce's throat robbing the big man of his oxygen.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

The armbar is released and Johnson immediately starts to crawl towards Manson who is stretching his arm out as far as it goes to.

 

“LET’S GO JOHNSON” *CLAP*CLAP*CLAP-CLAP*CLAP*

“LET’S GO JOHNSON” *CLAP*CLAP*CLAP-CLAP*CLAP*

 

Johnson leaps towards Manson with his left arm stretched out hoping to tag in the Master of Mansonosity. Sadly their hands never touch as Bruce manages to get a hand on Johnson’s boot at the last spilt second. The International champion can’t help but grin as he’s got Johnson trapped and on one leg trying his best to keep his balance. Johnson takes advantage of his position by leaping up in the air for an Enzugiri kick

 

“BRUCE DUCKED!!” Mak yells out as Bruce ducked under the boot from Johnson causing the Shoot Fighter to flip over “He really has been working on his technique.”

 

*THUD!*

 

JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!!

 

“NOT ENOUGH!!” King says as Johnson quickly launches into a back kick the moment his free foot touches the ground.

 

The back kick strikes Bruce square in the chest knocking the Redneck Superman into his own corner. Nemesis quickly tags Bruce on the shoulder and then steps over the top rope. The moment Nemesis steps over the rope Johnson takes advantage of the situation by rushing over and tagging in Manson.

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

“What is it with this country? So he teams with a Canadian, that doesn’t make him a nice guy” Mak complains as the crowd pops for Manson making the hot tag.

 

“Maybe they’ve read Manson’s teachings of Mansonosity? I know they improved my life” King replies.

 

Since Manson is pretty familiar with Nemesis he easily ducks under the colossal boot attempt, bounces off the ropes and then nails Nemesis in the back with a high knee to the kidneys. When the Raging Bull sees that the kidney shot caused Nemesis a lot of pain he repeats the high knee driving it straight into Nemesis’ soft flesh.

 

“I think Manson finally found a weakness in the big monster” Mak points out

 

“That’s everyone’s weakness though Mak, but it’s good to know that underneath it all Nemesis IS human”

 

“Yeah he could have been a robot King” Mak quips.

 

“A wrestling robot? Yeah who’d buy THAT?”

 

After the two knees to the kidney Manson follows up with a series of elbows to the back, each blow causing the big man to spasm in pain. The Colossus tries to fight the Master of Mansonosity off with a gigantic back elbow but Manson easily ducks under it and then counters with a drop kick to the side of Nemesis’ knee. With the giant staggered Manson knows that his golden opportunity is coming up. The Raging Bull runs at the ropes and…

 

FLIPS OVER THE TOP AS BRUCE PULLED THE ROPE DOWN!!

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

Bruce can’t help but grin as Manson hits the apron at an awkward angle and then falls face first to the floor. The Professor instructs Nemesis to tag out and without hesitation Nemesis follows his master’s instructions.

 

“Nemesis seems to be back under the Professor’s control after last weeks dissention King”

 

“Considering what happened earlier tonight with Bruce, Nemesis and Cross showing up together I think we know WHY Nemesis just walked out on the match” King replies putting words to everyone’s thoughts.

 

Instead of getting into the ring Bruce jumps off the apron striking Manson over the back of the head with a massive double axe handle blow. The referee reaches a count of 5 before Bruce rolls Manson under the bottom rope and then climbs inside the squared circle himself. The International champion pulls Manson to his feet and then punches him square in the jaw

 

*Smack!!*

 

The punch seems to wake up Manson more than it hurts him, a second punch from Bruce sends Manson back in the corner as his eyes widen and his face reddens. When Bruce rushes in to clothesline Manson he eats a boot instead, then a right hand, another right hand and finally a Lariat from the Raging Bull knocks Bruce down to a huge pop from the crowd. Manson grabs Bruce’s left leg and applies a half Boston Crab to keep the International champion under control as he stretches his arm out and tags in JJ Johnson

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!!

 

Johnson quickly climbs the ropes, trying his best to not let his hurt right elbow slow him down too much. Manson drags Bruce into position before Johnson leaps off the top rope.

 

“DAMAAAAAAAAAGE DONE!!” Mak yells out as Johnson prepares his knee drop

 

*CRACK!!*

 

“RIGHT TO THE SIDE OF THE KNEE!”

 

The high impact Damage Done knee drop drills Bruce in the side of the leg twisting it in a really painful looking angle. Both Professor Attenborough and Wayne Blank look on with worry as Bruce rolls on the canvas, clutching his knee in agony. Manson leaves the ring grinning over Bruce’s misfortune as JJ Johnson begins to go to work on the big man’s weakspot, the knee. Each time Johnson kicks Bruce in the knee the big man screams and curses in pain, which only encourages Johnson to keep the attack up.

 

“You got to admire Johnson’s determination, he’s in there with a bad elbow and he’s not slowing down one bit” Mak says as JJ Johnson lands a double stomp on Bruce’s leg

 

“Johnson is all man with a bit of animal thrown in for good measure Mak. It’ll take more to keep him down”

 

When Johnson tries to apply an ankle lock on Bruce the damage done to his elbow flares up preventing him from successfully using the move. The big man sits up, trying to catch a break against Johnson but instead of catching a break he catches a pair of boots to the face as Johnson lands a low drop kick to the seated Bruce.

 

“Johnson and Blank have faced off once before at Genesis 6” Mak says trying to bring a bit of historical perspective into the match.

 

“Yeah they tore up FAO Schwartz, you can’t really compare that match to the tag match tonight” King replies

 

“No but it illustrates just how much both of them have evolved since then I mean Johnson is a world class wrestler now who just got a few unlucky breaks and Bruce is the International champion and essentially the #2 guy in the federation”

 

The “World class wrestler” twists Bruce’s good leg and then hooks it over Bruce’s bad leg as he tries to put a Figure Four leg-lock on the champion. Bruce tries to grab Johnson by the head to roll him up but a stinging left fist from the Canadian Shoot Fighter puts a stop to those plans and allows Johnson to properly hook the figure four leg lock.

 

“Clever! He can inflict a world of pain on Bruce and still spare his elbow this way” Mak says sounding very impressed over Johnson’s tactics.

 

“Considering the state of Bruce’s knee this could be over pretty soon” King replies.

 

And the Suicide King seems to be on to something because the Figure Four is really punishing the big man. Bruce tries his best to reach out and grab the ropes but Johnson positioned himself so that Bruce is more or less in the middle of the ring with no real hope of catching a rope break. Wayne leaps up on the apron to distract the referee but Izzy Slappowitch is on to them the moment Nemesis tries to step over the top rope.

 

“Score one for Slappowitch, he’s not letting the Weapons of Mass Destruction get away with cheating” Mak says with approval.

 

TAP OUT!! TAP OUT!! TAP OUT!! TAP OUT!! TAP OUT!!

 

The Canadian crowd gets louder and louder as they encourage Bruce to tap out and end the match right then and there. Bruce refuses to give in just yet and instead tries the only counter he knows, he tries to roll over onto his stomach. Bruce twists his body, trying to block out the pain as much as possible, hoping to be able to get out of the leg lock this way. The only problem with trying that counter is that Johnson immediately knows what Bruce’s plans are and counters them expertly by rolling his body the other way, upping the pressure on Bruce’s knees and thwarting the escape plans.

 

JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!!

 

“The fans are really pulling for Blood and THUNDER tonight King”

 

“At least the Thunder part Mak, they’re pulling for Johnson”

 

“I thought Johnson was the “Blood” part?”

 

“Erm… maybe they’re both both things?” King says hoping that answer will be enough to change the subject.

 

“Wha?”

 

“LOOK BRUCE IS GOING TO TAP OUT!!” King yells out, partially because it does look like Bruce is going to tap but also because it’s a good way to change the subject.

 

Bruce’s hand hovers over the canvas just inches away from making contact, inches away from ending the match. Bruce fights the pain as best he can but everyone has their limit and it looks like Bruce is about hit his.

 

The Professor yells at Nemesis to get in there before it’s too late. The Colossus steps over the top rope, this time totally ignoring the referee’s instructions. Manson reacts quickly as he climbs up the ropes and then leaps onto Nemesis pushing the big man back, away from Bruce and Johnson. Izzy Slappowich desperately tries to separate the two illegal men by applying a 5 count

 

ONE!!

 

Neither man seems to be too bothered by the count though as Nemesis tries to help Bruce and Manson tries to stop him from doing so

 

TWO!!

 

With Izzy’s attention diverted Wayne slides into the ring and aids Bruce in turning over onto his stomach

 

THREE!!

 

The tables are turned instantly, Bruce is now the one applying a leg lock on Johnson instead.

 

FOUR!!

 

Wayne doesn’t loiter in the ring even for a moment but dives out after having helped Bruce out. Johnson reaches out and grabs the ropes to get a rope break. When Izzy notices Johnson in the ropes he forgets about counting and instead runs over to Bruce to get him to release the hold. Since there is no point in protecting Johnson Manson steps out on the apron again and walks back to his side where he grabs hold of the tag rope.

 

“Those two almost got the match thrown out” Mak comments as Nemesis leaves the ring as well leaving the two legal to fight it out.

 

“Then who’d challenge Two Skinny White Champions?”

 

“I dunno, the Bushwackers?”

 

JJ doesn’t waste any time in tagging Manson back in to give the Raging Bull a chance to inflict more pain on the International champion. Manson drags Bruce back up to his feet, hooks him around the waist to lift him up while twisting him around into a MANSON bomb followed by a cover

 

ONE!!

 

 

“I think they have it King, I think Manson and Johnson are going to get their title shot at Smarkdown” The Franchise says as Izzy’s hand hits the canvas a second time

 

 

………TWOO!!

 

 

“Bruce has taken a lot of punishment Mak, I think you could be right” the Suicide King reluctantly admits.

 

 

……………………NO!!

 

Nemesis reaches over the top rope and pushes Manson to break the count, proving once again that size matters since he didn’t even have to get in the ring to break up the pinfall. When Izzy Slappowitch questions the Colossus he just holds up his left hand to show that he held on to the tag rope the whole time. Manson uses the tip of his boot to drive the wind out of Bruce’s lungs with a pair of well placed kicks to the short ribs. After making sure Bruce is still under his complete control Manson pulls the big man up by the hair and tags in Johnson once more

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH EH!!

 

“They’ve been playing this very smart Mak, they’ve been cutting the ring in half and now they’re tagging in and out quickly” King says giving his seal of approval to Blood and THUNDER’s tactics

 

ONE!!

 

“They need to be sure they don’t break the 5 count, that’d be a quick way to lose the match” Mak interjects as JJ Johnson climbs the ropes

 

TWO!!

 

“These guys are not going to get caught out by that Mak, they’re former world tag-team champions after all” King shoots back

 

THREE!!

 

At three Johnson comes off the top rope and lands a missile drop kick to Bruce’s head while Manson made sure that Bruce wasn’t going anywhere. The impact knocks Bruce down hard, bouncing off the mat before he rolls over on his side holding his neck as he’s in tremendous amounts of pain.

 

JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!!

 

“See? Manson is out of the ring before the 5 count you agony aunt”

 

“Yeah but…” Mak says struggling for something to say.

 

Johnson drags a thumb across his throat to signal the end of this match, a gesture that draws a monster pop from the Canadian crowd. Johnson scales the turnbuckles, measures Bruce and then leaps off

 

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAMAGE DOOOOOOO…”

 

*CRUNCH!*

 

“HE MISSED” King yells out as Johnson hits more canvas than redneck.

 

“Come on now King tell the truth, it was more Bruce rolling to the side than Johnson miscalculating. Johnson kinda hit Bruce but he also hit the canvas.”

 

Bruce is hurting, dragging his leg as he tries his best to inch his way closer to his corner. Nemesis has the tag rope in one hand and is bent forward into the ring as far as he can waiting for Bruce to close the gap and tag in. JJ took a really bad bump on the mat and is hurting too, but he’s closer to his corner, all he has to do is roll over and then he can tag in Manson again.

 

“Who’ll get the tag first?” Mak asks, a question the Suicide King doesn’t even bother to answer.

 

JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!! JOHNSON!!

 

Bruce slowly crawls towards his partner, favoring his knee but still trying his best to tag the Colossus in. On the opposite side of the ring Johnson rolls over and tags Manson. The Raging Bull uses the ropes to springboard over the top rope where he rushes across the ring preventing Bruce from tagging by landing a running knee to Bruce’s ribs.

 

“Manson saved the match right there!! All they’ve got to do is keep Bruce away from Nemesis” Mak says as if he was Manson’s manager.

 

Manson drags Bruce back into Manson & Johnson’s corner and then drags the Redneck Superstar to his feet and pushes him into the corner. Johnson holds on to Bruce as Manson runs down the side and bounces off the ropes to give him added momentum before he strikes Bruce.

 

*BAM!!*

 

FACEWASHA!!

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

Manson pulls Bruce back up into the corner as he grins sadistically. Then he runs at the ropes once more

 

*BAM!!*

 

FACEWASHA!!

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!

 

KICK HIS ASS!! KICK HIS ASS!! KICK HIS ASS!!

 

Manson knows that he’s got the momentum on his side, so for the third time he positions Bruce back in the corner, hits the ropes and then

 

*BAM!!*

 

“HE KICKED JOHNSON IN THE HEAD!!”

 

Bruce slumped to the ground at the last split second ducking out of the way of Manson’s boot. Manson ends up kicking JJ Johnson in the back of the head knocking his partner off the apron. The momentary distraction gives Bruce the break he needs. The International champion digs down deep and comes up with a final burst of energy so that he can make it all the way to his own corner.

 

*SLAP!!*

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO EH!!

 

“HERE COMES THE MONSTER!” King yells out as Nemesis steps over the top rope.

 

Bruce slumps over on the apron clutching his knee in agony, he’s not even able to stand up. Nemesis takes Manson down with a monster lariat that flips the Raging Bull a full 360 degrees in the air on impact.

 

“Here comes Nemesis and Manson’s partner has just been knocked down” Mak says as the Colossus drops a 410 pound elbow on Manson.

 

“Alright, alright everyone be on the look out for Spike Jenkins, he’ll show up any time now” King says

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Spike is an opportunist Mak, if history tells us anything then he’ll come out and steal someone’s spot on the team” King explains referring to Spike’s past with the team of Johnson and Manson.

 

The Colossus doesn’t even spare Johnson a fleeting glance as he continues his onslaught on Manson and why should he anyway? Johnson is flat on his back on the mat and not a threat to the Weapons of Mass Destruction at the moment.

 

“Hey ref disqualify Johnson” King yells out in jest.

 

“What? Why?” Mak replies once again taking one of the Suicide King’s jokes too seriously.

 

“He’s not holding on to the tag rope Mak, that’s very bad form” King lectures Mak as he is suddenly transformed into a defender of the rulebook.

 

Manson comes off the ropes after being forced into them and is then scooped up by Nemesis for a ring shaking, back breaking, no friends making SPINE BUSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~!!!

 

*BAM!!*

 

Nemesis could very easily have covered the Master of Mansonosity after that devastating Spine Buster but since the Professor hasn’t given him the go ahead the Raging Green Giant keeps on the assault instead with a series of stomps. The stomps are quickly followed by Nemesis placing his boot on the side of Manson’s head and then stepping up.

 

Let me reiterate that: Nemesis is standing on Manson’s skull

 

Even though it’s just for a few seconds the pain still has to be worse than anything you can imagine.

 

YOU SICK FUCK!! YOU SICK FUCK!! YOU SICK FUCK!!

 

“Spike better hurry up!” King quips as Nemesis pulls Manson back to his feet once again.

 

“I wish you’d just get off that lame joke King, Spike is busy with the Cruiserweight division after all”

 

Nemesis grabs Manson with his Mighty Mitt and then throws the Raging Bull backwards, lifting him off the ground as he’s propelled into the turnbuckles. After trying to adjust the ring with his back Manson is an easy prey for Nemesis who scoops Manson up into a Fireman’s carry.

 

“Is this it??” Mak asks.

 

“This is the Fall from Mount Olympus!” King says as Nemesis executes his F5-into-a-DDT finishing move on Manson.

 

*WHAM!!*

 

ONE!!

 

 

Outside the ring Johnson gets back to his feet, still a bit staggered from taking the accidental kick from Manson earlier in the match

 

 

………TWOO!!

 

 

JJ realizes that they’re in jeopardy of losing the match and lunges forward under the bottom rope trying to break the pin before the

 

 

……………………THREEE!!!!

 

¤DING-DING¤ ¤DING-DING¤ ¤DING-DING¤

 

“Johnson was just a split second too late” Mak laments.

 

“The Weapons of Mass Destruction wins!! They get the well deserved title shot next week!!” King adds excited about seeing both Stephens and Maddix get mauled by the two power houses.

 

“Bruce took a hell of a beating tonight but that doesn’t matter now! They’re the number one contenders for the tag-team titles!!”

 

Fade out as Bruce hobbles over and raises Nemesis hand in victory.

Edited September 7, 2006 by chirs3

[chirs3 0]

Lockdown fades in after a commercial for some bullshit that the corporations, man, are trying to trick you into thinking you need! Deodorant? That's a capitalistic lie, man. Just, like, rub some mint leaves, or something, like, on your body, man. Anyway, some guy who's been forced into taking a job as a camera man because the corporations, like, want to keep people, like, enslaved, pans over to Mak Francis and the Suicide King, two more puppets of capitalism, man.

 

"Welcome back to Lockdown, live from the Scotiabank Place, in Ottawa!" Francis beams.

 

"Man, I'm glad to be out of Frenchie territory. Those little Quebecois kids are worse than those Children of the Corn demon-spawn," King says.

 

"Anyway, it's time for the main event of the evening, and it's going to be a hardcore extravaganza! Jimmy the Doom, who took World Heavyweight champion Michael Stephens to the limit, but ultimately failed in his attempt to dethrone the champ, defends his Hardcore title against another Mike in the form of Michael Cross, who, quite frankly, was getting shellacked by Nemesis before the giant simply walked away," Mak says, probably pissing off several of his English teachers with that run-on sentance.

 

"Despite that, I have to give the advantage in this match to Cross, simply because he isn't Jimmy the Doom," King says.

 

As the witty banter flows like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives, and as such, dark red lights flash throughout the Place, and the queer-rock sounds of Queen's "The Show Must Go On" blares. Michael Cross walks out, clutching a folding chair in his right hand.

 

"Boooooo!"

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight's main event! The following match is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation Hardcore championship! Introducing first, the challenger! He stands six feet, two inches tall, and weighs in at two hundred, thirty-seven pounds. From Detroit, Michigan, he is a former Tag Team and Cruiserweight champion, 'Iron' Michael Cross!" Funyon shouts.

 

"Cro-oss su-ucks!

 

Cro-oss su-ucks!

 

Cro-oss su-ucks!"

 

Mike slides his chair under the bottom rope, climbs the steps, and ducks under the top rope. Michael shucks off his hoodie, picks up his weapon of choice and rests it on his left shoulder as he waits for Doom.

 

"Michael Cross looking focused as usual, and hopefully, he'll have a little easier time tonight against Jimmy than he had against Nemesis. You know, if Doom retains tonight, I would expect him to face off against Nemesis some time down the line," Mak says.

 

"That's very possible, but that's assuming Doom manages to beat Cross tonight, and I really doubt that will happen. Jimmy is nowhere near as strong as Nemesis," King says.

 

The lights go out, and the sound of marching feet and chanting voices echoes through the Scotiabank Place.

 

Doom!

 

Doom!

 

Doom!

 

The lights return to full power, revealing a flock of druids encompassing the ring. Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" plays over the speakers, and Jimmy the Doom emerges from behind the curtain, holding a lump of petrified wood aloft. The Straight-Breader stops at the top of the stage, causing the trailing Lois the Unethical to bump into her husband. Doom wheels around, but stops short of smacking Lois upon seeing who it is. Jimmy tries to play it off and continues to the ring.

 

"Yeaaaaah!"

 

"And the champion, being accompanied by Lois the Unethical, he is a former Tag Team champion! Standing six feet, five inches tall, and weighing two hundred, thirty pounds, and comes from Doomopolis, Doomtopia. He is the Straight-Bread Sensation, Jimmy the Doom!" Funyon booms.

 

"I'm very curious to see how this Straight-Bread versus Straight-Edge war plays out. So far, Straight-Edge leads four to nothing, as both Spike Jenkins and Michael Stephens hold tag and singles victories over Jimmy the Doom, while Cross has yet to face Doom," Mak says.

 

"Considering that Jimmy lost to Spike, as you said, Cross should win easily, as anyone with a functioning brain stem and no more than seventy-five percent motor skill impairment is a step above Jenkins," King says.

 

Lois walks around the ring, hands the Hardcore belt off to Funyon, takes out a Bejing phonebook, sits down, and begins counting the 'Chins'. Meanwhile, Jimmy clambers up the steps and ducks under the top rope, only to get bashed in the head by Cross.

 

EUKARYA!

 

"Booo!"

 

Doom reels backwards, but grabs the top rope to stay on the apron. This proves to be a mistake as Michael nails the Doomtopian in the face.

 

GAMETANGIA!

 

"Cro-oss su-ucks!

 

Cro-oss su-ucks!"

 

Jimmy drops off the apron to the ground just as Mike unloads with a monster swing. The chair bounces off the top rope and into Mike's face, causing 'Iron' to drop the bent implement.

 

RHIZOME!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Michael Cross not wasting a second and going right after Jimmy the Doom with that chair," Mak says.

 

"It's hardcore, baby, that's what I love about that stipulation! Except, of course, the fact that the other guy gets to use weapons, too. There needs to be a match where I get to hit a guy with chairs all I want, but he can only use armdrags," King muses.

 

Doom reaches out and jabs Cross in the belly with the wood. Jimmy slides into the ring, and referee and mayor of Ottawa, Bob Chiarelli, calls for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Doom rises up and cracks Mike across the back with the petrified wood.

 

ARCHAEA!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

Jimmy swings again, but Cross grabs Doom's wrist, twists and pops the champ in the nose with a jab. 'Iron' Mike fully extracts the wood from the Straight-Breader's hand and smacks Jimmy in the face with it.

 

XYLEM!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

Michael nails Doom in the stomach, then whips around and applies a modified headlock, using the petrified wood to choke Jimmy.

 

"Michael Cross is really taking advantage of this hardcore environment as he uses that stick to choke Jimmy the Doom," Mak says.

 

"Not only the environment, but his added bulk. He probably wouldn't have been strong enough to control Jimmy the Doom like this before he packed on the pounds. While Jimmy isn't the strongest around, he's fairly tall, which gives him a good advantage when it comes to leverage, and only a lot of power can overcome it," says King.

 

Chiarelli gets down on one knee to ask if Doom would like to submit, but Jimmy is too busy flailing around in his attempt to escape. The Doomtopian reaches up and manages to sink his index and middle fingers deep in Michael's nostrils, and Jimmy yanks back. Contemplating the issue, Mayor Bob turns his attention on Cross, asking 'Iron' if he wants to call it quits.

 

"That's a very...odd...counter to a headlock slash choke, but it just might work," Mak says.

 

"And we see Jimmy's long arms come in to play, but I don't think that a...nostril pull...like that can cause enough pain to Cross to get him to let go," King says.

 

King's words prove to be incorrect, as Cross lets go of Jimmy in order to pull Doom's hand from his nose, though that may have been due to sheer annoyance. Mike backs up a few steps, stares hard at the Straight-Bread Sensation, and rushes forward. Doom lowers his head and springs at Cross, burying his cranium in Michael's belly. Jimmy pops back to his feet, snares Mike in a front facelock, and yanks him to the canvas with a DDT. Jimmy rolls Cross on his back and makes a lateral press.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

T-No!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

"Kickout from Cross, and it's going to take a lot more than that to even get a two count," Mak says. "This is a guy that took just about everything Nemesis could throw at him, but still couldn't be put down."

 

"Not to mention everything he could be thrown at," King adds.

 

Both men rise to their feet and engage one another. Jimmy lashes out with a palm strike, hitting Cross in the middle of his chest, but Michael spins into the arm and launches Doom to the mat with a shoulder throw. Mike yanks the champion into a seated position, holds Doom's arm out, and leaps, scissoring his legs around Jimmy's neck and snapping it forward. Bob Chiarelli drops to the mat to check on Doom, but Jimmy is at work, slowly transitioning from being seated to flat on his belly. With a good deal of pressure off his neck, Jimmy grabs hold of Mike's feet and turns in on Cross' body.

 

"Nice work by Jimmy the Doom in reversing that headscissors into a crab," Mak says.

 

"It's not bad, but he's still got Michael Cross' legs around his neck," King points out.

 

As Bob slides around to face Cross, Jimmy grabs Michael's right foot and pries it off his neck. Doom takes hold of Mike's left foot and shoves it off as well, then walks away from his opponent. Cross stands up, and Doom turns to face him. Jimmy darts in and smacks Mike with a kick to the head. 'Iron' Mike shakes it off, and smashes a right hook into Jimmy's jaw. Doom glares at the challenger and crashes down with a headbutt. The Straight-Bread Sensation wraps Cross up in a standing double armbar, and delivers a headbutt. Doom lands another, but can't hit a third as Michael lifts Doom off his feet and drives him into the mat.

 

"Nice belly to belly suplex from Cross, but that was kind of dangerous," Mak says.

 

"Yeah, with his arms bridged out like that, he could have broken them when he came down," King says.

 

Cross remains on top of Doom, but spins around to hook Jimmy's legs.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Tw-No!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Shoulder up from Doom! This match is going to be an absolute war, as both men involved are some of the toughest competitors we've had for a long time," Francis says.

 

Cross hauls Jimmy to his feet and whips him into the turnbuckles. Mike charges in, but Doom rushes out, only to get dropkicked in the knee. The Straight-Breader flips over, lands on his back, and clambers back up. Michael grabs Doom by the back of his shirt, spins him around, and drops Jimmy with a snap suplex. Cross rolls the Doomtopian back to his feet and snaps him back to the canvas. 'Iron' Mike pulls Jimmy up a third time, and instead of a snap suplex, Cross lifts Doom into a stalling vertical suplex. However, instead of falling backwards, Michael walks forward and drops the Hardcore champion across the top rope.

 

"Michael Cross is really throwing his weight around against Jimmy the Doom. Doom might not be used to being the weaker man, as he's mostly faced cruiserweights," Mak says.

 

"That's because nearly the entire federation is under two-thirty. Yeah, Cross is smashing Doom pretty good, but he got roughed up by Nemesis, which shows that the really big guys, like Blank, 'Grappler', and the Crimson Skull could easily ride roughshod over the rest of the roster," King says.

 

"Nice alliteration," Francis says.

 

"Nice useless shoes."

 

Cross lays into Jimmy with an European uppercut, then slides under the bottom rope and between Doom's legs to the ground. The Straight-Bread Sensation whips around, aiming a kick for Mike's head, but misses. Michael latches on to Jimmy's foot and jumps up, scissoring Doom's leg and pulling down on his ankle. Chiarelli leans over the top rope to ask Doom if he'd like to submit, but Jimmy gives the mayor a Wet Willie.

 

"Nice leglock from Michael Cross! If Newton were a grappling enthusiast, he would be proud the way that Mike is using gravity to add to the pressure on Jimmy's leg," Mak says.

 

"You're saying he wasn't?" King asks. "I'm pretty sure I read that Isaac would wrestle anyone that challenged the validity of his theory on gravity."

 

Jimmy latches on to the tope rope to remain on the apron, but he slowly realizes that this isn't Clusterfuck, and there's no penality in his feet touching the floor, so Doom lets go and jumps, slamming Mike's back into the concrete. Cross lets go of Doom and rolls under the ring. Jimmy shakes out the pain in his leg for a moment, then starts looking for Cross. Doom glances under the ring, but pops out again, only to get nailed in the head by a hockey puck.

 

PANGEA!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

Cross hurls another puck at Jimmy from the adjacent side of the ring, but it sails over the Doomtopian's head and cracks a very unlucky fan in the face.

 

"Looks like Michael Cross has found some of the Senators' gear," Mak says.

 

"He won't find any trophies, though," King says. "Or will he? Like I know or care about hockey."

 

'Iron' Mike comes around the corner, brandishing a curling stone. Cross drops the hefty object and pops Jimmy with a right cross. Doom takes a step backwards, but lunges forward, nailing Mike with a shotei to the forehead. Michael brushes the strike off, and marches forward, only to eat another palm strike. Doom rears back for a third shotei, but Cross nails the Straight-Bread Sensation with a left hook to the ribs. Michael grabs Jimmy by the forearm and whips him towards the ring steps. Doom trips over the dropped curling stone and flies headlong into the steps, dislodging them.

 

PHYLUM!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

Cross pulls Jimmy up, slaps on a side headlock, and scoops up the curling stone before heading up the ramp. Mike drags Jimmy to the stage and tosses the stone in front of both men. Michael tries to slam Doom's face into the granite rock with a bulldog, but the gangly champ shoves Cross off and into the support structure for the SWFtron.

 

ANGIOSPERM!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

Mike bounces back, directly into Doom's shoulder, and the Straight-Breader goes for a back drop driver, only to have the attempt blocked. Jimmy tries once more, but Cross fights him off and takes the lanky champ down with a bulldog, just missing the curling stone by inches.

 

"If Cross would have hit that bulldog on the curling stone, he could very well be the new Hardcore champion," Mak says.

 

"And if Doom had got that back drop driver, he might have retained, but let's not dwell on hypotheticals. I mean, if Spike Jenkins wasn't an unhinged douche bag, you would be Dancin' Mak Francis right now," King says.

 

"God I hate you," whispers the Franchise.

 

Michael Cross stands up, and pulls Jimmy the Doom to his feet as well. Cross boots Doom in the stomach, turns him around, and launches Jimmy overhead with a pendulum backbreaker. The Straight-Breader tumbles end over end down the ramp before coming to a stop in front of the dislodged ring steps. Cross surveys his work, then gets a bright idea. 'Iron' Mike picks up the curling stone and shoves it down the ramp, where it collides spectacularly with Doom's torso.

 

SPOROPHYTE!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

"Nice skip by Michael Cross, though I wonder if he was trying to hit Doom in the face," Mak says.

 

"I think everyone wants to hit Jimmy in the face," King says.

 

Mike ambles down the ramp, while Jimmy, winded from the most recent assault, crawls under the ring. Cross flips up the ring skirting but stumbles back as confetti swirls around his head. Doom leans out from under the ring and swings a metal bucket into Mike's head.

 

DIPLOID!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

Jimmy crawls out, stands up, and bashes Cross in the head a second time.

 

BRYOPHYTA!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

Doom flips the bucket upside down and plants it fimly on Mike's head. Jimmy hops back a step then launches himself forward, cracking Cross in the bucket with a roundhouse kick.

 

Clang!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Jimmy the Doom is using that bucket very well, for a bucket, I guess," Mak says.

 

"The hell is a bucket with confetti doing under the ring? Is Rip Taylor going to face off against Spike? Speaking of Rip Taylor, is he still alive?" King asks.

 

Jimmy punts Cross in the stomach, grabs Michael by the top of the bucket, and sits out, slamming 'Iron' Mike into the ground.

 

Clang!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Doom Factor! Jimmy the Doom has been rather notorious for making his Hardcore defenses short, and he might have this match wrapped up," Mak says.

 

"I doubt it. Michael Cross is a lot tougher than Doom's previous opponents," King says.

 

Doom rolls Cross on his back and is about to make a cover when gold sparks erupt from the top of the entrance stage.

 

Fwoosh!

 

The Crimson Skull bursts from the back as C & C Music Factory's only hit "Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now!)" blares. Skull lifts an aluminum baseball bat and points it directly at Doom, who simply stares.

 

"Boooooo!"

 

"It's the Crimson Skull! I thought Peters had assured Jimmy that Skull wouldn't interfere in any more matches!" Mak shouts.

 

"Calm down, calm down. Skull is just standing, he hasn't done anything yet," King says. "Besides, you believed that Joseph Peters would actually accomplish something?"

 

Skull remains at the top of the ramp, and Doom stands his ground as well. The only person that appears to be moving is Cross, as he tries to remove the bucket that has nearly been molded to his head. Well, Michael and some figure in the audience. As he nears, it turns out to be Heff, and the evil assistant rushes through the crowd. Heff hops over the crowd barrier, throws a bag over Lois the Unethical's head, and zaps her with a stun gun. The slight man (There's never been any indication that Heff is small, but let's just assume that he is) works fast, binding the unconscious Little Doomton woman with zip ties. With her hands and feet cinched together, Heff slings the Panic Ogre over his shoulder, clambers over the barrier, and rushes for the nearest exit while security members keep the irate fans off of him.

 

"Boooooo!"

 

"Heff has got Lois the Unethical trussed up like a Sunday roast, and Jimmy the Doom doesn't even know it!" Mak shouts.

 

"Dude, that is so hot. I know nothing works for you down there, anymore, but would that make you horny, too?" King asks.

 

"What?! No, I've never been a fan of the whole tied up and bondage type stuff," Mak replies.

 

"Huh? Man, I'm talking about the Sunday roast thing. That's hot," King says.

 

"Remind me to never, ever go to your house for dinner."

 

"Like I'd invite someone like you over," King says.

 

"What?!" the Franchise roars indignantly.

 

"Your crippled ass would totally mess up Naked Swedish Booze Twister, a Suicide King Sunday dinner tradition," King explains.

 

"You participate in naked Twister with your family?" Mak asks.

 

"Ew! No way, that's horrible. I play with the hookers I pick up."

 

"Wait, are you telling me that you pay for prostitutes, cook them dinner, and then play Twister?" Francis questions.

 

"Yeah, but that's because I'm a classy guy. Hell, I don't have sex unless I'm wearing a tuxedo," King says.

 

With the job completed, Skull walks backwards through the curtains, keeping his eyes locked on Doom the entire time. Meanwhile, Michael Cross has succeeded in dislodging the bucket, and he snares the Straight-Bread Sensation in a schoolboy rollup.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

T-No!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Shoulder up from Doom, and he almost got caught offguard by Michael Cross!" Mak shouts.

 

"So not only would he have lost his girl, but the belt, and in the same night. I like," King says.

 

Michael clambers to his feet, pulls Doom up, and whips him into the ring steps.

 

AMYGDALA!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

Jimmy slumps down slightly, and gets pulled into a standing headscissors. 'Iron' Mike lifts the Straight-Breader up, flips him over, and drives Jimmy onto his right knee. Cross hauls Doom back up, and slams the Hardcore champ into his left knee. Mike picks the Doomtopian up a third time, turns around, and drives Jimmy into the ground with a powerbomb. Mike quickly flips over Doom, stretching out Jimmy's legs as Bob Chiarelli drops to count the pin.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Thr-No!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Shoulder up from Doom after that vicious 'Iron' Bomb on the concrete. If Michael Cross keeps up this high-impact pace, it won't be long before he's the new Hardcore champion," Mak says.

 

"Think Cross will win before Doom realizes his wife is missing?" King asks.

 

Michael pulls Jimmy off the ground and lays into him with a left hook. Cross slips on a front facelock, and smashes a knee into Jimmy's face. 'Iron' Mike slams another knee into Doom's face. Mike quickly releases the Straight-Bread Sensation from the front headlock, and slaps on a double underhook instead. Cross hoists the Doomtopian off the mat, holds him aloft to showcase his strength, and then drops, spiking Jimmy's skull into the ground.

 

ZYMOGEN!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

"Nail in the Cross! We might be three seconds away from a new Hardcore champion!" Mak yells.

 

"Thank God, I've been tired of Jimmy the Doom with a title of any kind for...when did he win his first belt, anyway?"

 

Cross shoves Doom over and tosses his legs on the ring steps for added leverage.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-NO!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"He kicked out! Jimmy the Doom kicked out of the Nail in the Cross on exposed concrete! There is no way that this man can be human!" Francis shouts.

 

"Then let's fire him! Don't we have a strict 'humans only' hiring policy? Well, I guess Ebony and the three Ghost Machines were exceptions, but, damn it, not this guy!" King screams.

 

Cross gets to his feet, but instead of going after what basically amounts to a wounded animal in Jimmy the Doom, he rounds on ref Chiarelli for a good session of bitching and complaining. While Michael is shouting, Jimmy is slowly but surely pulling himself off the ground. However, 'Iron' Mike has the ears of a man with good hearing, and he can detect the sound of movement behind him. Cross spins around and gets punched in the stomach by Jimmy. Doom grabs Mike by the hair and uses it to pull himself up. The Straight-Bread Sensation cracks Michael in the face with a knee, then slams him into the ring steps.

 

OTOLITH!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

Cross slides down to a seated position, and Doom charges in. Jimmy extends his left foot, snapping it into Mike's face.

 

HEXAPLOID!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Nice front kick by Jimmy the Doom. He really sand...I mean, crushed Michael Cross' face between the steps and his foot," Mak says, taking care not to mention the dreaded s-word (No, not sword).

 

"When will these young guys realize that you win the match first, and then smack the ref around?" King asks.

 

Doom pulls Cross away from the steps and makes a lateral press.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Th-No!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

"Shoulder up from Michael Cross, and Jimmy the Doom has got to do a bit more if he wants to keep Cross down for the three count," Mak says.

 

"That's pretty obvious considering Mike just kicked out," King says.

 

The Straight-Bread Sensation lifts Cross off the ground and plants him in front of the steps again. This time, Jimmy scoops up the dented bucket and jams it on 'Iron' Mike's head before backing up. Doom darts forward and nails Michael with a front kick to his bucket head.

 

Clang!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

The Hardcore champion drags Cross away from the steps and makes a lateral press.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-NO!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

"Shoulder up from Cross! 'Iron' Michael Cross is truly living up to his name, as he just kicked out of another flying snap kick from Doom, this time with a metal bucket on his head," the Franchise says.

 

"He's just about to make his move and kick this idiot's ass," King says.

 

Frustrated, Jimmy goes about pulling the bucket from Mike's head, but it's stuck on pretty tight. Doom fumbles with the bucket, wishing for some butter to grease up Mike's skull, but to no avail.

 

"After all those blows, that bucket is resemling a mask that only fits the unique contours of Michael Cross' face," Mak says.

 

"I think he should be able to wrestle with it on. Drill some eye-holes, and he could be unstoppable," King says.

 

Finally, Doom pries the bucket off Mike's head, and to thank Jimmy for his effort, Cross slams his forearm into the Straight-Bread Sensation's crotch. 'Iron' Mike pulls himself up and slams Doom's head into the top ring step.

 

GEMMULE!

 

"Boooooo!"

 

Michael grabs Jimmy in a reverse facelock, and is about to lift the Hardcore champion off his feet, when Doom lances his fingertips into Mike's throat.

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Hand of Doom! Michael Cross was looking for the Silent Rage Syndrome, but Doom countered with that throat thrust," Mak says.

 

"I still don't like that move. Wait, I do, but only when someone that isn't Jimmy uses it, especially if they use it on Jimmy," King clarifies.

 

Jimmy wriggles free of Mike's grip and hefts Cross onto the ring apron. Jimmy clambers up the ring steps and takes hold of 'Iron' Mike. The Straight-Breader slaps on a reverse facelock, reaches down, and hooks Mike's leg. The Doomtopian lifts Cross off the apron and leaps off. The Hardcore champion slams the challenger's head into the ground below and makes a lateral press.

 

CATECHOLAMINE!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

Mike's shoulder flies off the mat, but it's about a milisecond too late, and Bob Chiarelli is signalling for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

"Yeeaaaah!"

 

"Doom Driver wins it! It took dropping Cross from the apron to the floor with an inverted cradle brainbuster, but Jimmy the Doom retains the Hardcore title," Mak says.

 

"Ah, but you're forgetting something very important: Lois has been kidnapped by the Crimson Skull," King says.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match by pinfall, and still Smarks Wrestling Federation Hardcore champion, the Straight-Bread Sensation, Jimmy the Doom!" Funyon yells.

 

Mayor Bob hands the title to Doom as "Yakety Sax" plays again and Cross slinks off to lick his wounds.

[chirs3 0]

SWF Lockdown doesn't quite fade to black, despite the main event being finished. The Hardcore title has been contested, and the carnage remains, as does Jimmy the Doom. With the match over, the Straight-Bread Sensation finally has time to realize that his wife is missing. Doom looks under the ring, but finds no Lois. Jimmy wanders around aimlessly, apparently hoping that she'll come out of hiding any minute.

 

"Looking for something?" booms the deep voice of the Crimson Skull on the SWFtron.

 

Doom wheels around and stares at the giant image of his enemy. Against his better judgement, Funyon passes Jimmy a microphone.

 

"Of whereness, manied Loised, having to with in?" Jimmy growls.

 

"Oh, I haven't the slightest idea, Jimmy. She's certainly not right here," Skull says and he pulls a figure clad in Lois' black bodysuit, but it's hard to tell if it's actuall The Panic Ogre, as a burlap sack has been thrust on possibly her head.

 

Fuming, Doom starts to head up the ramp, when a person stumbles over the barricade and grabs Jimmy's arm. The Straight-Breader whips his head around and sees red hair and a the Doomtopian flag on a black background.

 

"Severaled of withs hahing! Unethicaled many, to being Lois, for with of in me on next, hered!" Jimmy shouts triumphantly.

 

"I suggest you take a better look," Skull says.

 

Doom grabs the person's chin and pulls it into the light, revealing none other than Heff!

 

"Hello," rasps the evil assistaint, not bothering to use a girlish falsetto.

 

Heff swings his right, brass knuckled hand into Doom's temple and rushes to the back.

 

PEIGNOIR!

 

Jimmy stumbles, dazed from the unexpected blow.

 

"If you ever want to see your wife alive again, you had better meet my demands. I'll give you until Smarkdown to decide," Skull says.

 

The Smarktron goes off, with Jimmy on his knees, staring at the blank screen. With that, Lockdown finally fades to black.