!!!SWF 13th HOUR!!!

[the.weej 0]

Comet: The enormous entry way clock ticks ominously, loudly. In a few short hours, it will strike 13... the hour is almost upon us, Robert!

 

Riley: I'm exited! The score is pouding, the music is dramatic, and the card looks great! Time's a wasting, Comet. Let's get going.

 

Comet: Speaking of the card, let's show it to our viewers before we get started...

 

CARD:

 

MAIN EVENT

SINGLES MATCH

WORLD TITLE BOUT

"Deathwish" Danny Williams© vs Janus©

Stability and instability, reason and insanity collide in the main event of 13th Hour! Champion Danny Williams confronts former friend and stablemate Janus, for the ultimate prize in the business. It's a mesh of two vastly different men, stories, and styles. Repressed anger meets raving rage in what is sure to be a hell of a main event! Can Danny continue to legitimize his reign and prove he is, indeed, the Man here in the SWF, or will Janus realize a lusty desire for power and precedence, continuing the trend of the SWF title passing from hand to hand? The clock is ticking... the hour draws nearer.

 

CANADIAN DEATH MATCH

BEST-OF-FIVE SERIES, MATCH FIVE OF FIVE

Dace Night (2) vs "The Superior One" Tom Flesher (2)

Four times they have fought, and four times they have failed to resolve this. Who will be the new number one contender to the SWF world title will finally be resolved tonight, in one of the most creative stipulations ever concieved. And there's a lot of that going around tonight, I know. Tom Flesher and Dace Night have run the table in their series, and now, it's time to decide who is really the best. They know their strenghts, they know their weaknesess, they know the other's strategy. They know there are no excuses, now.

Rules: Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. The winner is the first one to get a combined count of 10. For example, if one man pins the other for a 4 count, then a 3 count later in the match that’s a combined 7 count. Only 3 counts and higher can contribute to the combined count (you can’t just get 5 near falls in a row to win).

Send To: Suicide King

 

IRON MAN MATCH

USJL TITLE BOUT

Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix© vs Alan Clark

The ages old blood feud between Landon Maddix and Alan Clark continues to rage, finally coming to a head here at 13th Hour! We hope, anyway. With the score evened at 2-2, these two men try to settle something that dates back to the beginning of their careers in the SJL. Many falls will take place in this match... but at the end, one man will stand above the other. At long last.

Rules: The man to get the most falls in a 60-minute time period is the winner. Regular DQ/Countout rules do apply.

Send To: realitycheck

 

MASKED MAN MYSTERY MATCH

FIVE WOUNDS GAUNTLET

The Masked Man vs Aecas, David Blazenwing, Ace Lezaire, Insane Luchador and... Ebony?

The ambiguous Masked Man might have all the talent in the world, but not the experience, as he was resoundly smacked down by the world champion on Smarkdown. Keeping a stiff upper lip, MM asked only for one thing from 13th Hour: A chance to prove himself. Well, Alexander Zenon was all too kind in his response. Masked Man now has the possibility of facing five different competitors in five different stipulations for a supreme victory. A wily vet, a hard-nosed returnee, a lumbering hoss, a cocky rookie and... a giant antromorphic ferret?

The Five Stips: Singles, Chairshot Challange (steel chairs are the only legal weapon, anything else can get you DQed, no count out), Tables (no-DQ, for the good it'll do you), Random Match (ANY stip, EVER. It will be displayed on the 'tron before this segment starts), Ladder (MM's briefcase will be held above the ring. First to retrive it wins, and if his opponent does, they have the right to open it).

 

LAST MAN STANDING

Nathaniel Kibagami vs Toxxic

The bad blood between these two goes back before Battleground, where the rookie beat the returning Kibagami only to have Nathaniel even the score on his path the the World Title. Now neither man is a champion and both have something to prove, but there can only be one Last Man Standing...

 

CASINO FLOOR BRAWL

TAG TEAM TITLES BOUT

Hollywood Boulevard© vs Crow & "The Notorious" John Duran

The champions were, to the surprise of some, very disappointed that their prospected opponents would be unable to meet them at this PPV. Instead of just revelling in their gold, they devised a plan. They offered all the unbooked wrestlers in the locker room to draw straws for the oppertunity to team up and face them for the gold. The Antichrist Superstar, Crow, and freefalling former champion, John Duran, were the 'lucky' two winners. They may not like each other much, but both are willing to put that aside for the chance at gold. Smirking and nodding, Todd Cortezn and Mike Van Siclent accepted their opponents... and then went to Commissioner Zenon with a fascinating match stipulation.

 

CAGE MATCH

CRUISERWEIGHT TITLE BOUT

Johnny Dangerous© vs "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins

Not all matches need epic description. Johnny Dangerous, proud fighting champion and working hard to continue the legacy of the CW title, firmly established by former partner in crime Wildchild, takes to the streets (or between the steel, whatever) to face off against Spike Jenkins, who earned the PPV shot at the title last show.

 

SINGLES MATCH

Munich vs Jay Dawg

Old friends (...?) renew accquaintancies! The incomprable Jay Dawg makes yet another reappearance in the SWF, and Munich is all too happy to greet him! This should inspire memories of eras long past in the SWF, if only for a brief moment... until these bludgeon them out of one-another's heads, anyway. Ah, reunions.

 

SINGLES MATCH

Ced Ordonez vs Ryan Dustin

World famous Bemani, former tag champion and staple of the crusierweight division returns to the SWF after a long haitus! Former crusierweight staple himself, Ryan Dustin, locks horns with him here in the opener of this PPV event! Huzzah!

[the.weej 0]

A camera located in the upper deck pans from the ring towards the elaborate 13th Hour decorum before the lights go out in the Quad Cities Center. The electricity emanating from the crowd is ready to explode.

 

“Night of Fire!” a female chorus sings over a synthesized tune.

 

In front of the clock tower pendulum, a group appears to rise from the darkness. The beat of Niko’s “Night of Fire” pops the crowd.

 

“FIRE!”

 

Fireballs burn through the darkness and reveal Ced Ordonez and his entourage of female dancers as the song goes into full swing. The dancers quickly flank Ordonez on both sides as all five of them begin to dance feverishly for the crowd on hand, an elaborate light show accentuating their moves. The crowd cheers wildly for the spectacle being held at the top of the ramp

 

DING DING DING! The timekeeper strikes his bell., as Funyon stands in the center of the ring and prepares to attend to his ring announcer duties.

 

Funyon’s voice is slightly muffed by the blaring music and crowd noise. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first bout of the evening, scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring, from Sacramento, California and weighing in at 209 pounds, CED OR-DOOOO-NEEEZ!” The crowd cheers as Ced and company continue to dance.

 

“What a way to kick off the PPV!” Cyclone Comet yells from the announcing table. “Ced Ordonez making his return to the ring as an active competitor in grand fashion. “

 

The superhero’s partner in crime Bobby Riley looks a bit perplexed by Ced’s new persona. “So he’s left the zebra stripes at home and become a dancing Power Ranger Megazord?” he asks.

 

Cyclone Comet ponders only momentarily and retorts, “Actually, his outfit is patterned after a Mobile Suit Gundam. As a professed superhero, I’m required by law to know the difference between the two.”

 

Back at the entrance, Ced breaks formation and makes his way to the ring. He slaps hands with fans along both sides of the aisleway and poses for the camera at ringside before sliding into the ring. He heads to the far turnbuckle, perching himself on top of it before posing for the crowd. The camera flashes create a nice strobe effect before Ced hops down with a large grin on his face.

 

He directs the crowd’s attention to his dance troupe and applauds them before they wave to the crowd and disappear behind the pendulum. Ced hops onto the opposite corner and poses once more as his entrance theme fades out.

 

The entrance come alive with multi-colored lights as “Lapdance” by N.E.R.D. alerts the crowd of the impending arrival the next SWF superstar. The vocals of "Lapdance" drop as the spotlight shines down on the pendulum and meets Ryan Dustin as he walks out from behind the large stage prop. His arms are folded across his chest while his red cameo jacket flutters from an unknown undercurrent. His pauses momentarily and begins to make his way to ringside, making small talk with the fans along the way as Funyon’s voice once again battles against the crowd ‘s rowdiness.

 

“And his opponent, hailing from Carson City, Nevada and weighing in at 228, ‘THE REAL DEAL’ RY-AAAAAAAAN DUUUUS-TIIIIIN!” he exclaims.

 

Like many fans in attendance, Comet bounces his head to the tantalizing beat. “It may be the return match for Ced Ordonez, but Ryan Dustin can easily spoil Ced’s welcome home party by beating him in this opening match”, he notes.

 

Bobby chimes in with his own two cents. “Beating the former tag team champion here tonight would really add to a huge notch to Ryan Dustin’s belt.”

 

Dustin hops onto the apron as Ordonez stretches in the far corner. He climbs up the outside of the turnbuckle and poses for the Illinois crowd before he and Ced lock eyes for the first time. Neither man appears phased as Ryan forms a picture frame with his hands and uses them to size up Ced Ordonez as he completes his warm-ups. Ryan turns to the crowd and soaks in the beat of his entrance theme before giving the crowd his form of showmanship, a top-rope backflip with a picture perfect landing. Referee Nick Soapdish walks over to Ryan Dustin and gives him the regulatory instructions spiel before checking his gear for foreign objects.

 

The sounds of N.E.R.D. slowly fade out as the crowd continues to cheer loudly. Soapdish glances at both superstars before signaling to the timekeeper to officially start the bout.

 

DING DING! The crowd settles down a bit but remains standing as the first match of the PPV officially begins.

 

Dustin and Ordonez meet at the center of the ring and slap hands out of respect before quickly circling each other and trying for a collar and elbow tie-up. Neither man seems to be comfortable as they simultaneously release the lock-up and try again. Dustin is quick to use his height advantage to gain the upper hand in the lock-up forcing Ced down to one knee and transitioning to a side headlock. Ordonez feels about cautiously as backs Dustin into the ropes and pushes him off. Dustin doesn’t let go of the headlock, though, and he drags Ordonez back to the center of the ring.

 

Dustin does a quick go behind and takes Ordonez down to the mat with a waistlock. Ced scurries about momentarily before fighting his way to a seated postion and then back to his feet. Ordonez makes a few failed attempts to grab Ryan’s leg before swinging behind Dustin and applying a hammerlock and floating into over into a side headlock. Dustin shrugs Ced off and Ordonez ricochets off the ropes. Dustin waits for him and flings Ordonez over him with a deep armdrag, holding onto the arm.

 

Before he can apply any sort of lock, Ced springs back to a standing base and wrings Ryan’s arm to counter. They back up into the ropes and Ordonez sends Dustin running into the ropes. Ced waits and leapfrogs over Dustin, except The Real Deal holds onto the ropes to throw off Ced’s timing. Ced lands with a stunned look on his face as Dustin bounds toward him with a jumping side kick. Ordonez drops to one knee to narrowly avoid eating Dustin’s foot. Dustin lands upon whiffing the blow and finds Ordonez’s legs wrapped around his own as he gets toppled over by leg scissors takedown.

 

Ordonez seizes the opportunity to slap on a kneelock but Dustin rolls out of Ced’s grasp and rolls onto his knees. The “Bemani Cross Wizard” tries to keep on top of Dustin, but the Dustin catches Ordonez coming in and wraps him up in a small package!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Ordonez shifts his weight and pins Dustin’s shoulder onto the mat!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Ryan Dustin reverses the reversal as Nick Soapdish keeps on top of the action.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

Ordonez quickly kicks out but remains in the front facelock as Dustin grabs his tights for a suplex. Ryan hoists Ced up, but loses his grip as Ced slips behind him and brings him down with a schoolboy.

 

 

ON--!

 

 

Soapdish barely gets a count as Ced pops up and begins the motions of the Cross Lightning, the early finish attempt shocking the crowd. The only one that sees it coming is Ryan Dustin, as he simply pushes Ced off with his free foot to easily escape. Ordonez rebounds off the ropes and leaps up with senton, adjusting his landing in mid-air, but misses as Dustin rolls out of harm’s way. Ced props himself on one knee as Ryan Dustin charges at him and uses Ordonez’s thigh as a springboard. The Shining Wizard is on target, except Ordonez barely gets his arms up to absorb the strike.

 

Ced turns and fires a roundhouse kick, but Dustin brushes it off and spins Ordonez around. Dustin applies a waistlock and he hurls Ordonez with German Suplex. He releases the “Bemani Cross Wizard” but Ced flips in midair and lands on his feet, drawing a few “oohs” from the crowd. Ordonez staggers back to bound off of the ropes, but stops dead in his tracks as Dustin kips up to an bigger crowd “ooh” to retort. The crowd stands up and applauds the stalemate as Ordonez and Dustin stare each other down from a bit of a distance. There is no anger in their intense stares, only respect.

 

Cyclone Comet, who had allowed the action thus far to stand on its own merit, finally comes in with some commentary. “What an incredible display by both wrestlers to start this match off. Judging by the reaction right now, the crowd is really mixed about which wrestler to cheer for”, he states.

 

Dustin and Ordonez readjust their ring gear before cautiously approaching each other again. They are both a little tentative in their actions as they each think up their immediate plans and counterplans. They lock up and with very little struggle, Ordonez quickly tucks Dustin’s head under his arm and wrenches on it hard. Dustin backpedals and leads them into the ropes. Nick Soapdish begins to administer a five-count but stops as Dustin launches Ced into the ropes. Dustin slides onto his belly and forces Ordonez to hurdle him on the return trip. Ordonez bounces off the ropes and Dustin gets some impressive air as he nails Ordonez flush with a dropkick, flooring the Bemani Cross Wizard with the impact.

 

“A beautiful dropkick by Ryan Dustin knocking down Ced Ordonez,” Cyclone Comet announces to the PPV audience “and now Dustin is looking to gain the first major offensive of the match.” Dustin lifts Ordonez onto his feet and gives him a crisp European uppercut to the jaw. Ced’s head snaps back as he reels back into the corner, allowing The Real Deal the opportunity to unleash another two uppercuts to rattle his brain a little more.

 

Dustin grabs Ordonez by the arm and whips him hard into the opposing corner. Ordonez crashes into the turnbuckles and the impact sends him staggering forward uncontrollably into an awaiting Ryan Dustin, who easily sends flying with an overhead armdrag. He keeps the arm and pulls Ordonez back to his feet, quickly slinging him into the ropes. Dustin patiently awaits his return trip before simply delivering a standing back elbow, hitting Ced flush in the cheekbone. Ordonez falls flat-backed and he sits up momentarily, grimacing, before rolling on the canvas.

 

Ryan keeps on the attack and pulls Ordonez up by the mask, causing Ced to slap away at Dustin’s hands out of instinct, before whipping Ordonez into the ropes once again. Ordonez bounces off the ropes and charges towards Dustin, who leaps up and captures Ordonez’s head with a leg scissors. Dustin arches backward, sending Ordonez crashing hard onto the mat with a huracanrana, and manages to hold onto it for a pinfall attempt.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

No!

 

Nick Soapdish holds up two fingers for all to see as Ordonez escapes Ryan Dustin’s grasp and pulls a shoulder off of the mat. Dustin casually plucks Ced off of the canvas and stands side to side with Ordonez, intertwining their legs and wrapping his arm around the neck of the Bemani Cross Wizard. Dustin clutches Ced’s wrist and leans forward slightly before snapping back with a Russian Leg Sweep. He immediately floats over and Nick Soapdish slides into position.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

No!

 

Ordonez kicks his legs and disrupts the count at two. “Ryan Dustin is gaining a lot of momentum right now as he has Ced Ordonez on the defensive” Cyclone Comet interjects. “Judging by the expression on Dustin’s face, he’s still calm and composed with the match going his way. Dustin whipping Ordonez into the ropes, no…there’s a reversal by Ordonez. Now it’s Dustin into the ropes and Ordonez with a clothesline…misses. Dustin into the ropes again, and a Lou Thesz Press by Dustin. And it’s a cover!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

H

 

 

R

 

 

E

 

E

 

 

NO!

 

“Ordonez BARELY slides out of the predicament at two. You don’t see a Lou Thesz Press into a pinfall attempt very often, so I think Dustin caught Ordonez off-guard in doing so” Comet infers as Ced sits up with a sigh of relief after almost being flash pinned. Dustin kneels behind and applies a rear chinlock on the Ordonez while pressing his knee into Ordonez’s back to amplify the effects. The referee takes a knee in the slim chance the hold could result in a submission, but Ordonez fights his way back up to a standing base. Dustin slides into a headlock to maintain control, but Ced escapes with the aid of a backdrop suplex.

 

The two roll to their feet and Ced charges headlong into an awaiting clothesline, but he ducks underneath and caroms off of the ropes with a jumping back elbow, knocking Ryan Dustin off of his feet, but not for long. Ced pelts him with some quick roundhouse kicks as Dustin recovers and drop toe holds The Real Deal back onto the mat the instant he stands. Ced pops up, bounces off the ropes and comes crashing down across Dustin’s back with a Powerdrive Elbow, overshooting a little and landing his entire upper body on Dustin. Nonetheless he rolls Dustin over for a pinfall attempt.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Ryan Dustin kicks out and Ced pulls him to his feet. An Irish whip by Ordonez sends Dustin into the ropes and Ordonez hits the opposite set at full speed. They meet in the center of the ring and Ced flies in the air and knocks Dustin down with a cross body block. Ordonez doesn’t even attempt a cover as he measures Dustin up and flops back first across his prone chest with a senton. Dustin’s air supply is driven out of his system as Ordonez hooks the leg.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

Dustin lifts a shoulder and Soapdish stops his count. Ordonez pulls Dustin to his feet and chops away at Ryan’s chest. Dustin swings a haymaker, which Ced deftly avoids as he runs to the ropes. Ordonez comes at Dustin and jumps onto his shoulders, stalling a few seconds before sending The Real Deal into the corner and with a flying leg scissors takedown. Ordonez charges at Dustin, but Dustin lowers his shoulder and catapults Ced over the top rope. Ordonez grabs the top rope to save himself from a hard fall and recovers on the ring apron. Dustin takes a few steps away from the corner as Ordonez perches himself on the top turnbuckle.

 

Ordonez motions toward Dustin to turn around as if The Real Deal can see him until he finally does so. Ordonez vaults off and crashes onto Ryan Dustin with a cross body block, but Dustin catches him and powers him up into a fireman’s carry position. Dustin turns to either side to gauge the crowd reaction before turning to face the center of the ring. He takes a few steps before rolling forward and dropping onto Ordonez.

 

Without hesitation, Dustin rolls through and runs up the turnbuckles in a very fluid motion. He looks underneath him to target his opponent, but see as Ordonez rolls under the turnbuckle and out of the trajectory of any potential finisher attempt. Dustin does a backflip off of the ropes for fun as the crowd cheers the display.

 

“Looks like Dustin was thinking about going for his StarDustin Press, but Ordonez thought otherwise at got himself out of harm’s way in a hurry” Cyclone Comet says as the crowd shows partisanship for the first time in the match.

 

“REAL DEAL!” CLAP! CLAP! “REAL DEAL!” CLAP! CLAP!

 

Ordonez tugs on the chinstrap of his mask as tries to slide out from under the turnbuckle, but Dustin walks over and stomps away. Dustin guides Ordonez to the center of the ring, but Ordonez punches away at his stomach to free himself. Ordonez hops up on Dustin’s shoulders for a huracanrana, but Dustin pushes him up into the air and takes a knee. Unable to control the landing, Ced lands painfully into the inverted atomic drop and caroms back into the air from the impact. Ryan grabs him by the legs and drives Ordonez hard into the mat courtesy of a wicked spinebuster, making a few in attendance flinch, including one Cyclone Comet.

 

“WOW! Did you see the impact on that spinebuster? Bonafide Thriller by Dustin!” screams Comet as The Real Deal lateral presses Ordonez and hooks the leg.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

H

 

 

R

 

 

E

 

 

NO! Nick Soapdish jerks his hand away from the canvas as Ordonez, albeit a little glossy eyed, manages to lift a shoulder to narrowly avoid the pinfall.

 

“ALMOST a pinfall by Dustin. I think The Real Deal was about really close to a victory there” exhales Comet, who had held his breath during the moment.

 

Ryan is only a little bit surprised by the kickout as he flashes three fingers to Nick Soapdish. The referee shakes his head and holds up only two as Dustin lifts Ordonez back onto his feet and stiffs him with a European uppercut. Ordonez’s head wobbles for a second before he regains his senses and chops Dustin in the chest. Ced does it again, and Dustin responds with a two more uppercuts. Ordonez backpedals a step before snapping off a hard roundhouse kick into the right knee of The Real Deal.

 

Dustin hobbles briefly before delivering another uppercut onto the chin of the Bemani Cross Wizard. Ordonez rolls with the punch and kicks Dustin in the right thigh, getting full hip rotation to maximize the effectiveness. He kicks him again and Dustin replies back with two kicks of his own. The exchange breaks down into a volley of kicks between the two until Ordonez catches Dustin’s leg.

 

Dustin hobbles as Ordonez drags the action to the center of the ring. Suddenly, Dustin bounds up and blasts an enzuigiri at the back of Ordonez’s head, but Ordonez ducks the deadly shot and Dustin crashes onto the canvas. Ced holds onto the leg of The Real Deal as he pulls a momentarily stunned Dustin back up to a hobble. Ordonez only gives him a small chance to shake off the cobwebs as he torques Dustin’s right leg and sends him spinning with a Dragon Screw Legwhip.

 

Ordonez continues to hold onto The Real Deal’s leg and pulls him a second time and delivers yet another Dragon Screw. Ced gets up a third time, refusing to let go of Dustin’s right leg as he momentarily cups the leg under his arm while wrapping Ryan’s left leg around his own. He leaves the right leg straight and locks the hold into place, allowing everyone to see what is about to transpire.

 

“Ced’s got him! Ced’s got Ryan Dustin!” screams Cyclone Comet as the crowd gets onto their feet. Ordonez’s eyes get a little wild as he listens to the crowd roar. Dustin tries to fight off the hold but can’t as Ordonez falls onto his back and cranks away. “Cross Lightning!” Cyclone Comet explodes. “Cross Lightning! And Ryan Dustin is in the center of the ring!”

 

Pain and panic overcome Dustin’s expressions as Ordonez applies full pressure on the reverse figure four. Nick Soapdish looks on as Dustin’s face cringes and he claws away at the canvas, trying desperately to get to the ropes.

 

“CED! CED! CED! CED! CED!” The crowd chants in rhythmic fashion as Dustin’s grit gets put to the test against Ordonez’s trusty Cross Lightning submission. Dustin is almost in tears as he lifts his arm into the air and sends it crashing down to the canvas.

 

“It’s over! Ced Ordonez got him with….” Cyclone Comet abruptly stops his speech in mid-sentence as Ryan Dustin stops his hand from tapping. “No! It’s not over. Ryan Dustin’s got some fight left in him!” Comet yells. But his yells are incomparable to those of The Real Deal as he screams with a mixture of pain and sheer grit as he inches his way to the bottom rope.

 

Nick Soapdish keeps right on the action as Dustin pulls within arm’s distance of his lifeline. The crowd grows even louder as Dustin stretches desperately for the rope. He swipes at it but misses and he looks down at the canvas a bit crestfallen. He shakes his head, tightens his fists and takes his final swipe…

 

 

 

 

…and…

 

 

 

 

 

…he grabs it! And the crowd goes nuts as Dustin clasps the rope firmly and Nick Soapdish rushes to get Ordonez to release the hold. Soapdish gets to two in his five-count before Ced Ordonez finally lets go, shaking his head a bit in disbelief.

 

“Ryan Dustin dodging a huge bullet and escaping the clutches of Ced Ordonez’s Cross Lightning,” says Cyclone Comet, “but Ordonez had that locked in for what seemed to be an eternity. Who knows how much is left in that right leg of Ryan Dustin…”

 

Ced Ordonez arbitrarily looks around for a moment before redirecting his attention to Ryan Dustin, who clutches his right knee. Ced forces Dustin to his feet and drags him to the center of the ring before laying him out with a snapmare takedown. Ordonez gets some momentum off of the ropes and comes crashing down onto The Real Deal’s chest with a fluid Powerdrive Elbow. He gets a lateral press and waits for Nick Soapdish to slide into position.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

H

 

 

No!

 

Dustin kicks out as best he can to raise a shoulder. Ordonez adjusts his mask before popping up and driving both knees into the side of Ryan Dustin. Ordonez then pulls Dustin closer to the corner and proceeds to seat himself on the top turnbuckle. Ced measures up Dustin and proceeds to drill his elbow into the torso of his opponent. Dustin recoils from the blow as Ced pulls him off of the canvas and props him in the corner.

 

Ordonez gives Dustin a solid knife-edge chop before flinging him into the opposite turnbuckles. Ced gives chase and comes at The Real Deal with a running high kick, but misses as Dustin dives out of the way. Ced’s leg dangles over the top rope as he struggles to free himself from his predicament. Dustin pulls himself up with the aid of the top rope and turns to see Ordonez in his entangled state. He thinks over the situation and aids Ordonez…by propping him up onto the top turnbuckle.

 

Dustin slides his head underneath the Bemani Cross Wizard and climbs up to the second turnbuckle to leave Ordonez sitting upon his shoulders. Ordonez looks at the crowd for a few more seconds before finding himself plummeting to the ground as Dustin falls back with the Electric Chair. Ordonez takes the brunt of the impact as Dustin sits up and shakes the cobwebs for a second before crawling over and making the cover.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

H

 

 

R

 

 

No!

 

Ordonez rolls a shoulder off of the canvas to stop Nick Soapdish’s count. Dustin shakes his right leg a little before going over to Ordonez and pulling him off of the canvas. Suddenly Ordonez’s hands fly up to escape Dustin’s grasp and he delivers a knife edge chop, stunning Dustin briefly. Ced immediately grabs for the bum leg of The Real Deal and winds up for another Dragon Screw Legwhip, but Dustin catches him in the jaw with a shotei, immediately jarring his leg loose from Ced’s clutches. Ordonez reels from the blow and jumps for an enzuigiri, but Dustin gets his hands up and parries the quick strike. Ordonez gets up to one knee and immediately feels pressure on his thigh as Dustin puts his foot on it. He springs off of Ced’s leg and slams his knee into the temple of the Bemani Cross Wizard causing Ordonez to collapse onto the mat.

 

“Just Deal! Just Deal by Ryan Dustin!” Cyclone Comet shouts as the crowd jumps up in excitement. “But can Dustin capitalize?” he questions as he watches Dustin’s knee buckle upon landing, forcing The Real Deal to drape himself over the top rope in order to catch himself. He falls to his backside to tend to his knee but realizes Ordonez is still very dazed after the Shining Wizard and rushes to make the cover.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

H

 

 

R

 

 

E

 

 

E

 

 

…

 

 

“NO!” Comet yells as Ordonez barely moves his shoulder up to elude defeat for the moment. Dustin a bit disappointed as Nick Soapdish adamantly shakes his head and holds up two fingers. The Real Deal wipes the sweat from his brow and he grimaces trying to stand up.

 

Dustin pulls Ordonez up by the scruff of his neck and slap on a front facelock. He looks to the crowd and begins to rotate it into a neckbreaker, but Ced slips out of his grasp and snaps a low dropkick to the knee he injured earlier. It makes Dustin cringe as Ordonez gets back onto his feet and promptly takes him down with a single leg takedown. Ordonez turns around with the right leg in hand but Dustin gets a hold of him and turns it into a schoolboy, pinning the Bemani Cross Wizard.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

H

 

 

R

 

 

E

 

 

E

 

 

No!

 

Ordonez struggles just enough to escape the pin attempt. They get onto their feet and Ordonez kicks Dustin in the gut, stunning him and allowing him to get The Real Deal into a fireman’s carry. He backs up into the corner and takes a few paces before executing a Regal Roll to drop Dustin onto the mat. He rolls with his momentum and springs onto the top turnbuckle, wasting little time in getting airborne and coming down to earth with the corkscrew swanton driving the air out of Dustin as a result.

 

“The debut of Fire Soul hits and there’s a cover!” Comet yells as Ced falls back onto The Real Deal. Nick Soapdish dives into position as Ordonez hooks the right leg and cradles Dustin’s head. Dustin’s body moves around violently from underneath Ordonez as the referee makes his count.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T

 

 

H

 

 

R

 

 

E

 

 

E

 

 

!

 

 

The third slap on the canvas ends the bout as Ced Ordonez sits up and raises an arm. Referee Nick Soapdish calls for the bell and confirms the result by clutching Ordonez’s raised arm.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“The winner of this contest by pinfall, CED OR-DOOOO-NEEEZ!” Funyon proclaims as Ordonez exhales loudly before rising to his feet. “Night of Fire” begins to play as he turns to a seated Ryan Dustin and has a few friendly comments with him. They talk for a little while before Ced slaps him on the back and turns to the crowd. He hops onto the turnbuckle to salute the crowd and gives them a little dance to the response of loud cheers and many flashbulbs. He pulls the mask off of his face to wipe away the accumulated sweat before stowing it away and posing for the crowd once more.

 

“Ced Ordonez gets the victory in his return match,” Comet says “but Ryan Dustin made him fight hard for the win.”

 

Ordonez exits the ring and slaps the hands of the ringside fans before heading to the back. The camera turns its attention to the clocktower and reveals that while the night is still young, it is slowly advancing towards the 13th Hour.

[the.weej 0]

“Gimme Shelter” by The Rolling Stones kicks up on the PA, and out saunters (love that word…even if it may have a feminine connotation to it…fuck it) Munich…black t-shirt only thing different from his normal In Ring Attire. Inside the shirt’s pocket sits a pack of cigarettes. At the top of the ramp, Munich takes the cigarettes out of his pocket and places them vertically on the ramp. Munich lifts the shirt off over his head and throws it onto the steel. He then makes a quick walk to the ring, slides under the bottom rope, and goes about doing warm exercises in the ring.

 

 

Funyon: “The following contest is scheduled for One Fall! He hails from Dallas Texas! Standing at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 260 pounds! The Dallas Cowboy… HE IS MUNICH!!!”

 

 

 

The arena dims down to solid darkness. After a few moments, allowing the hushes and the comments to pass... Marilyn Manson's "Dope Hat" hits the speakers to a loud ovation. Drazon walks through the curtains, observing the crowd briefly, scanning what he can for his presence. He finally walks down the isle and to the ring... interaction is minimal and normally requires some sort of outside motivation to do so.

 

Funyon: “His opponent! Making his return to the SWF! He hails from Vancouver, BC! He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 243 pounds! He is the resident hardcore maniac… JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

 

 

The energy of the crowd is strong, partly for the PPV, partly for the returning Drazon, who seems to have taken their favor. In the ring stand Drazon and Munich, opposite corners, with Munich having his back to the announce table, the steps to his adjacent right. JD with his back to the entrance ramp, steps again on his adjacent right. The crowd begins to build on their cheers as the two men warm up. Drazon opting to stretch his legs and hips, while Munich focuses more on his upper body, manipulating the ropes while in the process.

 

Comet: “Two recently returning vets, Drazon tonight as we all know, and Munich returned not too long ago.”

 

Riley: “Yeah! They’re both past their prime, I’m quite sure. It’ll be interesting to see these two Huck-A-Mania’s beat the crap out of each other, if they are even capable of it anymore.”

 

Comet: “Some cynical comments from my partner who everyone claims is a ‘happy’ fellow.”

 

The bell rings, although heard around the arena, it wouldn’t be heard again because it triggers the crowd to explode with response. Drazon and Munich pop out of their corners and head to the center of the ring to meet up. As if agreeing to lock up, the two men extend their arms to tie in, however Munich tenses his left, and pops JD in the jaw with a jab. Drazon takes a step back, surprised at the power that Munich’s left packs. Munich is quick to capitalize, shoving Drazon straight into the ropes and fires him off with an Irish whip. Drazon’s stomps echo throughout the arena, crossing the ring, he returns to duck a vicious lariat from Munich. Drazon continues to run, bouncing off the opposite ropes, he builds momentum as he returns aiming straight for Munich’s head with a Yakuza Kick! Munich ducks the decapitating blow, allowing Drazon to spin his foot back to balance. Munich grabs Drazon by the back of his pants & arm and hurls him to the nearest corner. Heading in chest first, Drazon raises both his forearms to soften the blow. Upon impact, he eases into the corner resting his spine on it only to spot Munich charging inward.

 

Comet: “Neither man can seem to take control of the situation here!”

 

Riley: “Munich is about to crush that petty Drazon!”

 

Except Drazon sidesteps the freight train known as Munich, allowing the Texan to rumble the ring with his corner impact. Munich stumbles back a few steps, doing his best to not allow the blow to take away his wind. Drazon slips’ in behind, ducking his head under Munich’s left arm and applies a rear waistlock. Drazon charges straight for the turnbuckle, crushing Munich in between it and his body weight, then immediately pulls him away. Walking back a few steps, Drazon lifts Munich into the air. Drazon continues to walk in reverse with Munich in the air, until he passes the halfway point of the ring, then spikes him into the mat with a belly to back suplex. Munich rolls away upon impact, trying to shake off the slam as he backs away into the opposite corner. Drazon doesn’t let up, charging straight for Munich, he slams into him, smacking him with a reverse elbow.

 

Comet: “Drazon has taken the lead and is keeping the pressure on!”

 

Riley: “If Drazon is anything like his old self, he’ll keep this up all day! Munich better turn it up a notch!”

 

Comet: “Drazon’s old self consisted of him handing out Dragon Suplexes for breakfast!”

 

Riley: “How dare you steal my line!”

 

The crowd begins to make it evident that Drazon is their favorite, as they’re energy continues to build with him. In the ring, Munich stumbles out of the corner as Drazon raises his left fist, tightly clenched. Looking to the crowd, asking if they see it, they do. Drazon pops Munich with a left jab right between the eyes. To the delight of the audience, Drazon follows with a roundhouse right, knocking Munich right back into the corner. Munich retaliates with a thumb to the eye, not meeting the crowd’s approval with the shortcut. Drazon growls at the sensitive pain, as Munich take advantage, grabbing Drazon’s head and smashing his face into Munich’s knee. Drazon absorbs the blow, letting the numbing feeling flow through his skull.

 

Comet: “These two are both known to take shortcuts when the time calls for it.”

 

Riley: “The more, the merrier! I’m getting bored of these two already being squeaky clean!”

 

Comet: “You like ‘em rough and dirty, don’t ya.”

 

Riley: “Damn rights I do.”

 

Munich pulls the hair of Jamie D, letting the handful assist Drazon to his full vertical. Munich proceeds to fire JD into the ropes, bounce back, and the Dallas native launches him high into the air with a back body drop.

 

Comet: “Although not the best moves, perfect to wear down and gain a strategy!”

 

Riley: “Here’s a simple strategy… don’t lose!”

 

“I AM MUNICH!!!”

 

Getting a strong response from the crowd, even some of it positive encourages Munich to turn back to JD with a more renewed spirit. JD rolls to his hands and knees, shortly returning to his feet. Munich uses the ropes for slight momentum, bouncing off he flattens Drazon with a running clothesline. A cover promptly follows.

 

Riley: “It’s over! JD is out!”

 

Comet: “Huh?”

 

ONE…

 

 

T… Drazon throws his shoulder up, almost insulted it was tried so early, and the crowd approves of his response. Using some of his power, Munich instantly pulls JD to his feet, bringing him inward he scoops him up and slams him down. Munich drops to his knees for the cover, but is promptly bench-pressed right off of JD. As Munich is pushed into the air, Drazon sits up and returns to his feet, but Munich is up a hair quicker and pops him in the jaw with a right hook. Munich fires two more before Drazon can retaliate with a right of his own. Drazon’s right only fuels Munich to keep coming, pushing JD into the ropes and hurls him off.

 

Comet: “More of a control struggle! These two are fairly evenly matched! Although they’ve both been around forever, this has to be one of the few times they have locked up!”

 

Riley: “Neither man seems to know each other that well!”

 

Comet: “They know each other well enough! However there’s a bigger item at stake here. The man who wins this battle will be a stronger presence in the SWF community! A returning vet showing he’s still ready for the big times.”

 

Riley: “Now THAT is something to fight for!”

 

Drazon returns off the ropes and Munich doubles over to launch him high. Drazon rolls off his shoulders, placing his arm behind Munich’s left shoulder and leverages it to the mat. Drazon grabs the wrist of Munich’s left arm with his left, and kicks a doubled over Munich in the face. Drazon shifts his weight toward’s the shoulder of Munich’s body and uses gravity to help him collapse to the mat. Although forced to the mat, Munich refuses to give up there, keeping his right arm up to prevent an armlock. Drazon continues to shift the weight, looking to apply a fujiwara armbar.

 

Comet: “Whoo! Early into the match, Munich most definitely doesn’t want to get caught with one of those!”

 

Riley: “The Fujiwara armbar feels like you are ripping the arm out of it’s socket and bending the elbow in ways nature didn’t intend!”

 

Comet: “Jamie Drazon is a submissions specialist, spending years training with shootfighters, he knows everything from pressure points to fingerlocks that can end matches!”

 

Riley: “Well doesn’t that make Munich totally fucked!?”

 

Comet: “Well he seems to be doing ok!”

 

Munich finally slides his legs forward, letting himself reach a sitting position. Drazon keeps the armbar on, although only able to keep pressure on the shoulder now. Munich growls in pain, but in time, he’s able to get his knee under himself, allowing him to pull to his feet, the armbar still intact. The crowd begins to get behind Munich as he winds up and pops JD with a right hand. Drazon takes the blow and releases the hold, allowing Munich to fire a left, which sends Drazon staggering to the ropes. Munich follows JD, catching him in a belly-to-belly waistlock on the return of the ropes. Munich vertically hoists Drazon before crushing his nether regions with an inverted atomic drop. Munich refuses to let go, hoisting Drazon up again and timbers downward, dropping his throat over the top rope with a stungun. Bouncing off the top rope, Drazon floats to the center of the ring, gagging his throat as he impacts into the mat.

 

Comet: “Munich knocks Jamie silly with the stungun!”

 

Munich grabs the ankles of Drazon and elevates his legs before somersaulting onto his chest. As the ref goes down to make the cover, Drazon rolls his upper body out and pins down Munich’s shoulders with his knees and shins. The ref starts the count.

 

One…

 

Two…

 

Comet: “Munich got fooled on that exchange!”

 

Riley: “Drazon won’t hold him!”

 

Munich lifts his ankles under Drazon’s arms and hooks in before pulling him down with a sit out pin.

 

One…

 

Two…

 

Drazon uses the momentum to somersault out and elevates Munich’s legs in the process. Drazon starts to carry Munich over for a Boston crab. Munich resists the painful hold, by grabbing Drazon by the ankles, not letting him turn over. Realizing he can’t turn Munich over, Drazon drops straight South, driving his forehead right below Munich’s navel. The crowd gasps as Munich holds his lower region in pain, however the ref rules it to be legal, which draws a massive applause from the crowd. Drazon rubs his lower belly, in false empathy for the German city, getting a few more cheers for his side.

 

Comet: “Drazon driving his forehead into the lower abdomen there, a legal move… barely legal… but legal.”

 

Drazon who hasn’t gotten off his knees, is suddenly grabbed in the hair by Munich and popped in the face.

 

Riley: “Munich sucking it up and taking the fight to him, that’s what I like to see!”

 

Munich grabs a hold of the back of Drazon’s head and pulls himself up to his feet. Keeping Drazon doubled over, Munich fires a knee right into his face. Drazon takes the blow and staggers backward. Munich leads with his right, hoping for a jab, but Drazon spins in reverse, smacking the hand away before belting Munich with a reverse spinkick to the face. Munich takes the blow, tumbling back two steps he changes direction and rushes for JD. Drazon catches him in a waistlock and hurls him overhead with a belly-to-belly suplex. Munich bounces off the mat and sits upward, holding his lower spine in pain; he takes a moment to catch his breath. Drazon follows behind him, picking him up off the mat and fires a knee to his sternum. Drazon cradles his leg and ducks under his arm before throwing Munich over with T-Bone suplex this time. Munich bounces off the mat, sits up then collapses back onto the mat again. Drazon rises to his feet, stretching his arms and spine back he roars out to the crowd. The lions let out their roars of approval.

 

Comet: “Drazon getting the upperhand with two beautifully executed suplexes!”

 

Riley: “Munich probably didn’t expect that to come!”

 

Drazon takes the few steps toward Munich before dropping down with the cover, making sure to hook the leg.

 

One…

 

 

Two…

 

 

 

Th… Munich kicks out, coughing out in pain for a few seconds.

 

Comet: “Munich feeling the double effects of those suplexes!”

 

Munich rolls over to his stomach and pushes up, his knees still lying on the mat. Drazon begins to saunter on over to the ropes, returning with a bit of speed. Just as Munich balances onto his knees, Drazon kicks him in the face. Feeling confident, Drazon points to the turnbuckles to which the crowd responds enthusiastically. Drazon makes his way over and climbs from the inside of the ring. In the center of the ring, Munich pushes up to his hands and knees, spotting Drazon with his back turned, he knows this is his chance. Munich presses up to his feet and rushes into the corner, while Drazon makes it to the top rope. Munich steps to the second rope, at the same time Drazon begin to turn around. Munich locks Drazon in a front facelock and knees him in the abdomen, maintaining decent balance on the top rope; he sets up for a vertical suplex position.

 

Comet: “Munich looked to be playing possum there!”

 

Riley: “And it worked! Ha! I love it, now watch him finish Drazon off here!”

 

Comet: “Drazon made a simple mistake, maybe some of him is filled with some ring rust.”

 

Munich lifts Drazon high into the air and the two men tumble backward off the top rope, before coming crashing down with a massive superplex! The ring shakes on impact as the two men lie on the mat in agony, the crowd cheering for the both of them to get up.

 

Comet: “Munich with a top rope superplex, that ought to take the fight out of Drazon!”

 

Riley: “No it took the fight out of both of the them! It ought to have killed Drazon!”

 

Comet: “Well put! Munich taking in the high impact move.”

 

Munich rolls onto his chest, pushing up to his hands and knees, he rests his head to regain some sense. Drazon lifts his lower back off the mat in a stretch, trying to alleviate the pain. Munich crawls over and hooks the leg for a cover.

 

One…

 

 

 

Two…

 

 

 

Th… Drazon kicks out, getting his shoulder high off the mat. Munich doesn’t feel too shocked that Drazon kicked out. However he senses the pain Drazon took from it. Munich rolls Drazon up to his feet and into another front facelock. Looking out to the crowd, testing for their approval, where they respond with a mixture of cheers and jeers. Munich shrugs his shoulders as he tosses Drazon’s arm over his shoulder, lifting him up high with a vertical suplex. The crowd begins to cheer as Munich stalls the hold, showcasing a lot of his upper body power as his abdominals rip into place. After successfully holding the stall for 5 seconds, Munich timbers on down, letting Drazon feel the crash of the hanging vertical.

 

Comet: “Munich has now responded with two of his own suplexes!”

 

Riley: “That hanging vertical dummies you up a lot more then people think as well. All that blood flowing to the brain before the crash… of course that would be implying Drazon had a brain.”

 

Drazon starts to sit up, but Munich chops him back down before making another cover.

 

One…

 

 

 

Two…

 

 

 

Thr… Drazon kicks out once more. Munich rolls Drazon onto his stomach then teeters back to the ropes. Munich rebounds off the ropes and leaps straight for Drazon’s cranium, blasting it with a drop kick to the back of the head.

 

THWACK!!!

 

Comet: “Munich calls that the Bamboozle!”

 

Drazon cuffs the back of his head in pain as Munich’s confidence begins to grow. Looking out to the crowd, he raises his arm to his throat and slits his thumb across.

 

Riley: “Munich is signaling that it’s time to end this!”

 

Comet: “Better get the bomb squad cause we’re about to deal with some C-4!”

 

Munich grabs Drazon by the back of the neck and pulls him into a standing headscissors. Munich raises his arms for the approval of the crowd, in which many give it to him, the others well… they give him something else. Drazon suddenly explodes forward, shoving Munich down with him, having a firm hold on his left leg. Drazon drives his knee right into the rear thigh of Munich, sending a painful Charlie horse down it. Drazon keeps the left leg in his hand and stomps right above his left kneecap. Munich hollers out in pain as Drazon continues to stomp on the leg.

 

Comet: “Whoa! Drazon like a pitbull, just latched onto Munich’s leg and is looking to demolish it!”

 

Munich draws his right leg back before driving it forward, catching Drazon right in the mouth with it. Drazon takes a few steps in reverse allowing Munich to rise. Out of instinct or anger, Munich strikes with his left leg, which Drazon catches with ease. Flashing a sadistic grin to the eyes of Munich, he tears the leg inward before snapping Munich over with a dragon screw leg whip. Despite the pain shooting through his entire left side, Munich rolls to his feet, standing with a limp in his left knee. Drazon steps forward, however Munich impulsively strikes for him. Drazon sidesteps a Munich grab attempt by just a hair, and takes out his legs with a sweep kick.

 

Comet: “Drazon suddenly focusing his attacks on Munich’s leg! Maybe looking for the JD’s Avenge, which many can tell you, myself included from experience… you don’t want to be locked in that!”

 

Riley: “A submission victory on a returning PPV! That sounds ok to me!”

 

As Munich crashes onto the mat, Drazon heads right to him, stomping right below his navel and springing off. Munich sits up from the winding blow to only receive a kick to the face by Drazon’s now leading foot. Munich lies down onto the mat as Drazon lets his body swing to the side and come crashing down with an elbow drop.

 

Comet: “Holy Crap! Pay-Per-View Bust-A-Move!”

 

Drazon hooks the leg immediately following the elbow drop as the crowd counts along.

 

ONE…

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THR… Munich gets a shoulder up! Drazon slides backward, hanging onto Munich’s leg as he slides outside nearest the announce table. He pulls Munich’s leg under the bottom rope and towards the ring post. Munich pulls his legs inward and kicks Drazon away and to the guardrail. Catching his breath, Munich slides outside. Drazon is there to meet him and takes him towards the announce table. However Munich breaks free of Drazon’s grip and shoves him towards the announce table.

 

Comet: “Whoa! Close up of Jamie Drazon!”

 

Riley: “Come closer big boy!”

 

Riley’s wish is Munich’s command, as he drives himself right into the back of Drazon’s head with the Guilty Pleasure clothesline, knocking Drazon over the announce table. Riley and Comet duck away to safety as Drazon tumbles over the announce table. The ref comes outside to capture the attention of both men. Munich rips away one of the timekeepers and grabs their seat, folding it up and walking towards the ring to it. The ref starts to check on Drazon who shows signs of life, just tangled up with the debris surrounding him.

 

Riley: “Drazon went for a ride, and Munich is going to capitalize!”

 

Munich tosses the chair into the ring while the ref remains distracted, and with an evident limp, walks toward JD. The crowd begins to boo as Munich pulls JD away and begins to lead him toward his trap. Munich rolls Drazon into the ring as the crowd begins to now show their signs of negativity, clearly disapproving of what Munich looks to do.

 

Riley: “Drazon attacks Munich’s legs and these assholes approve, but Munich looks to dummy JD up and they turn the tide…. What type of people are these!”

 

Comet: “The ones I serve, Citizen Riles!”

 

Munich kicks the chair to the corner and pulls Drazon up to his feet. Munich drops his shoulder underneath Drazon’s chin, clenching him inward tightly, and Munich drops to his knees with a shoulder jawbreaker! Munich lets go of the hold and grabs at his left knee, rubbing it down before making the cover on JD.

 

ONE…

 

 

Comet: “Munich had second thoughts about using that chair I guess! However he’s still looking to end it!”

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

THRE…NO!! Drazon kicks out and shakes away the effects. He starts his journey to his feet, Munich slightly behind, limping to his feet. Munich shakes his head, Drazon’s time is up. Munich sneaks behind him and applies a full nelson, desperately trying to lock his fingers around the neck of JD for the arm clenching hold. Drazon starts to shake his legs, bending forward, doing whatever he can to prevent being locked into the hold. The ref gets in behind Munich and on his other side is the corner, as he begins to check if the hold is legal. Suddenly Drazon squats down and powerfully thrusts in reverse, pancaking the referee into the turnbuckles. Drazon spins away, breaking the full nelson grip and locks on a front facelock. Grapevining Munich’s leg for a second, Drazon clenches his forearm to allow Munich to feel the choke.

 

Comet: “The ref is out cold and these two men are still going at it!”

 

Drazon releases his grapevine on Munich’s weak leg and finally snaps back, spiking Munich into the mat with JD DDT! Munich stands on his head before collapsing onto the mat as Drazon lies down as well. However one second later he kips up to his feet drawing a loud ovation from the crowd. Drazon points to the turnbuckles and once more receives a loud response as he heads on over to the corner.

 

Comet: “Drazon has just leveled Munich with the JD DDT, and is looking to put him away with that infamous Swandive headbutt! IF he hits this, it will be all over!”

 

Riley: “Unless of course that ref is still out!”

 

Comet: “Oh yeah… him.”

 

Drazon climbs up the turnbuckles, rising to the top level and standing above for the crowd to see. He takes a moment to wipe the pools of sweat building on his brow before looking to the crowd for the initiative. They respond enthusiastically with a ‘yes’ and Drazon leaps off the corner… soaring through the air, he extends his arms… aiming his cranium as the weapon, he drives it into the rear skull of Mighty Munchie! Drazon bounces headfirst off the body and falls down onto his back, resting still as he catches his breath, and tries to shake the agonizing feeling away from his skull. As Drazon stretches his face in comedic directions, he crawls toward Munich, rolling him over and makes the cover. He rests his head down and pounds the mat, but the ref hasn’t budged since the knock out.

 

Comet: “That headbutt might be all it takes, but there’s no way to tell right now!”

 

The audience boos in response to the refs lack of resilience. Drazon rubs his forehead, trying to think of what to do. He takes a moment, rising to his feet. Suddenly he snaps his upperbody up and raises his arms for the crowd to see. They respond strongly letting Drazon know they are behind him as he pulls Munich to his feet and into a standing headscissors. The crowd cheers for Drazon, but they are cut off as Munich suddenly lifts high, power Drazon out with a back body drop. As he dumps Drazon off his shoulders, Munich clutches his left knee, and limps straight to his corner with the chair. The ref still outcold, Munich picks up the chair and raises it while being ready to strike Drazon.

 

Comet: “Munich is ready to use that chair as a weapon!”

 

Riley: “That a boy! Cremate JD!”

 

Drazon pulls himself to his feet and spots Munich with the chair in hand. Munich raises the chair and points toward Drazon, where he begins to walk forward. Drazon takes a step back,not sure of what is going on. Munich holds the chair, ready to swing, he shakes his head for Drazon. Drazon drops to one knee, nearly catching his breath. Suddenly he explodes to his feet and raises both his arms with an intimidating invitation. Going nearly animal like, Drazon captures the energy of the crowd and harnesses it into this one courageous shout.

 

“BRING IT ON!!”

 

His voice clear even to the nosebleeders, Drazon grabs massive fan support as Munich angrily swings the chair. Drazon suddenly stands, and thrusts his right leg, booting the chair just as Munich swings it, knocking it right out of Munchies hands. As Drazon drops his foot to the ground, Munich pops him with a left to the jaw, knocking him back a few steps. Drazon returns off the ropes as Munich pulls the chair in front of him and pulls JD into a standing headscissors. Munich lifts JD up, but his leg promptly gives out! Drazon hooks onto Munich’s stronger leg and pulls his arm down over his shoulders, flipping Munich forward and crushes him into the chair with the Demolition Dreams! The ref begins to regain consciousness and JD slides the chair out of the ring. He follows with a cover…

 

 

 

ONE

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

The groggy ref raises Drazon's hand in victory."

 

Funyon: "Here is your winner! Jamie Drazon!"

 

Drazon celebrates then leaves up the ramp to crowds delight.

[the.weej 0]

The crowd inside the Mark of the Quad Cities Center is still hot from the recent contest between the returning Jay Dawg and Munich. The garbled cheers from fans lower in volume as the lights darken inside the arena. The SmarkTron flickers to life and displays a view of the Chicago skyline at night. The words "ONE WEEK AGO" appear in the lower left hand corner, then fades away as the scene changes. Inside SWF headquarters, one office remains illuminated. The door is partially ajar, and the camera focuses on the plaque for a moment. It reads Alex Zenon.

 

The camera moves into the office as the door pushes open, seemingly on its own. Alex sits hunched behind his desk, muttering over some paperwork. A pen rests idly in one hand, his other propping up his head. He looks up as someone clearing their throat gains his attention.

 

"Oh, welcome, come in," he says, standing and offering his hand.

 

The camera adjusts into the corner of his office, bringing into view two people. The first to enter and shake hands with the commissioner of the SWF is about six feet tall, gangly and wears a suit. After the handshake, he adjusts his glasses and introduces himself.

 

"Thank you, Commissioner. I'm Marcus Washington, P.A. This is my client, and your next superstar, Sean Davis."

 

Sean steps forward and grabs Zenon's hand in a short but powerful shake. He stands a head taller than his associate, Marcus, but is definitely more muscular. This feature is obvious, even through the dress shirt and slacks he wears. The two arrivals step back and have a seat. The commissioner does the same and opens a drawer of his desk. Alex pulls out a file folder and opens it up, removing a stapled document.

 

"Here it is, ready for signing," Zenon begins, but Marcus cuts him off.

 

The lawyer slides forward in his chair and holds up a hand. "Not quite yet, sir. This has to be read over."

 

Alex's face becomes stone. He replies in a gritty tone, "It's the same contract you were mailed a month ago."

 

Marcus waves his hand in a 'hold on' motion and continues, "I know, I know, Mr. Zenon. But, please understand that I have been very busy with Sean's case and a couple other folks I represent."

 

Zenon's voice rises, "Big deal, Sean could have read the contract."

 

Washington stands and plucks the contract from Alex's hand. He also quickly takes the file folder in which it was placed and nods to the commissioner. "I can see you're tired from a long day's work, Commissioner. Why don't Sean and I take this to the hotel with us for the night and we can bring it back tomorrow morning, signed and ready to go?"

 

Alex blinks after being robbed of the contract. Sean Davis also gets to his feet and moves toward the door. Zenon shrugs as Marcus follows his client to the door.

 

"Whatever, but-"

 

"But nothing, Alex. You go on home. We've got this taken care of," interrupts Marcus.

 

Sean opens the door for his lawyer and then looks back at Alex. He nods and steps out, followed by Marcus. Zenon can only look on and shake his head.

 

"But that's my copy, dammit." He leans back into his chair. "Don't be surprised if you don't get any matches soon, "Alex mutters.

 

 

Outside the SWF building, Marcus Washington steps to the curb and pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. Behind him, Sean Davis talks on a cell phone.

 

"Yeah, I'm downtown," Sean tells his caller.

 

Marcus waves at Sean and pointedly remarks, "I'll be at the hotel. See you in the morning, 8am sharp."

 

Davis just nods and begins walking away from Marc. He pleads with the person on the other end of the phone, "Please, Rashelle. It's just dinner. What do you need to spend time with your mother for? She'll be here for a while, I won't."

 

The woman on the other end is not happy with this comment, and a wince on Sean's face relays this emotion. He glances around the area and then heads toward a Denny's. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm at Denny's on 80th. Can we talk about this?"

 

A long pause ensues, and Sean stands with one hand in his pocket, just watching his feet as Rashelle lectures him. Finally, Sean nods and speaks into the cell, "Okay, half an hour. Thank you, Rashelle. I love you. Bye."

 

Davis flips the cell phone closed and steps into the restaurant. The scene fades to black.

[the.weej 0]

SWF 13th Hour takes a quick brake from the action, as we cut backstage where Ben Hardy stands, alongside the challenger to the upcoming SWF Cruiserweight Title match. Spike stares at the floor, completely focused on the task that is before him.

 

“Spike, I’m sorry to pull you aside like this. But tonight, is your big chance at SWF gold! Tonight, you go one on one inside a 15 foot high steel cage, taking on the man known as ‘The Barracuda” Johnny Dangerous. What are you feeling going into the biggest match of your short SWF career?” asks Benjamin.

 

“Well, Ben. To be honest with you, I’m a little nervous. In my stomach, I feel butterflies floating around. My palms are sweaty. I’m shaking like a little schoolgirl. But you know what, Ben? That is a very good thing.”

 

“I don’t quite understand, Spike.”

 

“Ben. What you may call nerves I call drive. You see, I am anxious to get out there. I am ready to beat Johnny. I am determined to take the SWF Cruiserweight Championship home with me tonight. But even if I don’t, I will at least fulfill my promise to Johnny tonight.”

 

“Promise?” questions Hardy.

 

“About four months ago, Ben. There was a match scheduled for Lockdown. The exact date was February 25, 2004. The match was ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins, taking on Johnny ‘The Barracuda’ Dangerous for the number one contendership to the now USJL Triple Crown Championship. Let’s go to the video tape…”

 

 

SWF Lockdown

2-25-2004

New Orleans, Louisiana

The New Orleans Arena

 

 

“Listen,” Spike, continues, in between a few short breaths, “I don’t want to wrestle you Johnny. Not tonight anyway. I seemingly came down with a virus over the weekend, and it’s taking all the energy I can muster to even stand here tonight in this ring.”

 

“Sounds like someone had a little too much to drink last night!” mutters Riley, “Virus my left ass cheek!”

 

“So before anything comes to blows… ”

 

“Now you’re talking,” says Riley, leaning forward in his seat with some newfound interest.

 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Robert H. Riley,” scolds Comet, “THAT is not what Spike is talking about!”

 

“… I want to just go ahead and throw in the towel.” says Spike, “If you’ll accept my offer, I promise to give you the match of your life when I’m feeling better!”

 

As Spike lowers his microphone he looks on towards Johnny in quite the sickly manner, pleading with his expression for Johnny to accept.

 

“Ot-Oh.” says Comet, almost under his breath. “It’s all in Johnny Dangerous’ hands right now. What will he have to say to Spike Jenkins? In one hand he could accept this offer like a true hero and walk out of this ring with a number one contendership to the USJL Title without even breaking a sweat! While in the other he could beat the flu right out of Citizen Jenkins, taking advantage of an easy victory while at the same time allowing his darker side to seep through.”

 

“Oh my God, will you PLEASE shut up?” growls Bobby, “It’s not that serious! Spike has a hang over I tells ya, either that or he’s afraid! And if he is afraid of Johnny Dangerous than he be better of to avoid living anymore.”

 

After a moment Johnny reaches for the microphone.

 

“Okay, Spike,” says Johnny, “I’ll accept your offer, but you better make good on that promise.”

 

The crowd howls in approval as Spike and Johnny shake hands and the Referee nods to Funyon to make the announcement.

 

“The winner of this match,” bellows Funyon, “and NEEEW number one contender to the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation’s United States Junior League Heavyweight Championship, JOHNNNNNY DAAANGEEROUUS!!”

 

 

 

“Johnny. I promised you, I would you give the match of a lifetime. And tonight, I will make due on that promise.”

 

Spike nods at the camera, and heads off screen.

 

“A very determined Spike Jenkins, folks. Up next, the SWF Cruiserweight Title match inside a fifteen-foot high steel cage! Spike Jenkins, taking on Johnny Dangerous! SWF 13th Hour!”

[the.weej 0]

The Mark of the Quad Cities Center in Moline, Illinois is a packed house tonight, fans from all walks of life here to witness the countdown, and to see who’s watch will expire first… at 13th Hour. “Lux Aeterna” kicks up over the speakers again, driving the level of excitement even higher as two spotlights lead the attention of the Illinois crowd towards the steel cage looming high above the ring, and the metal gleams as the lights dance around it. Finally, and to a massive pop, the cage begins its slow descent from the rafters to the arena floor as referee Matthew Kivell, the official for this match, comes jogging down the ramp. The Smarktron flares to life, displaying the images of Johnny Dangerous and Spike Jenkins in front of a blurry clock tower background with a jagged “VS” separating the two opponents… for now.

 

“Citizens,” greets Comet. “As you can see, the steel cage is now being lowered around the ring, and our tech crew is hard at work making the final preparations for our next match, which will also be the first title match for 13th Hour – the Cruiserweight Championship Cage Match! That’s right, folks, for the first time ever in the SWF, the Cruiserweight Championship will be decided… in a brutal cage match!”

 

“This is going a little overboard if you ask me,” pipes Bobby Riley. “The cage is usually reserved to settle massive disputes, and I never realized Spike Jenkins and Johnny Dangerous even spoke, let alone had a massive disagreement to settle.”

 

“That’s because this match isn’t about a blood embroiled feud,” replies Comet. “This match is what a title match should be about – two men wrestling for the title belt for no other reason than to become the Champion. Not like our Main Event, where the heinous beast Janus wishes to crush our World Champion, Danny Williams, for no other reason than to destroy Citizen Williams’ mortal soul! No, Robert, this match is all for the gold and these two men are willing to do anything to take that belt home with them tonight, and tonight…anything…will be a cage match! However, our Commissioner is at least level headed enough to realize escape rules would be far to easy for two cruisers, so the only way to win this match will be with a pinfall or submission.”

 

“Oh, nice description, Spandex-Pants,” scoffs Riley. “Anyway, ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins won this opportunity to wrestle for the Cruiserweight Championship just days ago on Smarkdown, where he defeated three other men in a four way elimination match.”

 

“After watching that match I noticed a fire in the eyes of Citizen Jenkins like I have never seen before,” Comet says. “After six months of plodding around with no drive, I think he is finally starting to come into his own. Tonight he makes his first grab at SWF Gold, and he could very well walk home with the belt tonight if he wrestles like he did on Smarkdown!”

 

“Rooting for the underdog tonight, are we?” questions Bobby. “What about your unsung hero, Johnny Dangerous?”

 

“I haven’t counted the Barracuda out yet, not by a long shot. Since becoming the Cruiserweight Champion, Operative Dangerous has dedicated his reign to carrying on the legacy of his fallen partner, the Wildchild, and has fought valiantly to uphold that legacy.”

 

“Well, you know I don’t like to place my bets against the odds,” says Riley. “As much as I despise the Barracuda and this legacy of his, he has a proven track record in the Cruiserweight Division, unlike Spike Jenkins who has a proven track record of floundering.”

 

“We shall see about that, Citizen Robert,” replies Comet. “For now I think we should put our stock in a man who never fails to shine, our herald ring announcer Funyon!”

 

A spotlight shines down on Funyon, dressed in an immaculate tuxedo that is always reserved for pay per view events like tonight. He sorts through the stack of index cards in his hand then settles on the proper one for this match and raises the microphone to his lips. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the following match is the CAGE MATCH to be contested under pin-fall or submission rules, and it will be for… the SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOONSHIP!!”

 

A booming cheer from the crowd rings out, pausing Funyon’s introductions. He waits for them to settle down, and for the house lights to start dipping into darkness, then says, “Introducing first, the Challenger…”

 

And the opening chords of Hotwire’s “Not Today” rings out across the Mark of the Quad Cities Center, grabbing a wondrous cheer from the Illinois fans! A second chord rings out as the song plays on, enchanting the crowd with it’s melodic tune while the arena is bathed in a cool blue hue… until the distortion hits and a surge of electric guitars shred through the speakers, and Rus Martin’s voice scream’s out:

 

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

BOOOOOOOOOM!!

 

An explosion of pyros marks the song’s turning point, leaving a cloud of smoke in its wake and out steps “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins to another loud pop! He strolls to the top of the ramp –the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head, and he stares down at the stage, taking in the applause and waiting as Funyon makes his introduction.

 

“From Hollywood, California, and weighing in at two hundred-twenty five pounds, he is… ‘HOLLYWOOOOOD’ SPIIIIKE JEEENKIIIIINS!!!”

 

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

 

Another round of pyros fire off all around Spike Jenkins, and he suddenly springs to life, jumping all around and tossing out punches into the wind! Finally, the Challenger takes off for the ring at full speed with his arms triumphantly raised high over his head, and making a full lap around the entire ring before finally heading through the door of the steel cage and into the ring. He leaps to the top of a nearby turnbuckle then climbs his way up the cage, kneeling at the top as he rips his sweatshirt off of him and flings it overboard then poses for the hundreds of flashbulbs popping off throughout the crowd!

 

“I must say,” says Comet. “I admire the amount of enthusiasm Citizen Jenkins brings to the table in this match. He’s tossed a little lighter fluid on that charcoal he used for Smarkdown and getting those flames popping – ready to take on his biggest challenge to date in the SWF!”

 

“Either that or he’s just a plum fool,” quips Riley. “This match is taking place in the confines of the brutally savage steel cage – the likes of which that have seen tremendous amounts of bloodshed in the SWF in times past. The cage holds no sympathy and it makes no friends, it’s here to do one thing and one thing only, Comet, and that’s make you wish you never stepped foot in it!”

 

“I’d like to think both Citizen’s Jenkins and Dangerous are well aware of the dangers involved in this match, Robert. Neither man is a stranger to this cage - both have survived its wrath and emerged victorious before. Besides, isn’t this what all title matches should be about? Two men taking on a brutal challenge for nothing more than the gold at stake!”

 

“If you say so,” shrugs Bobby.

 

Spike’s entrance music finally fades and once more all is silent. The arena lights dim again and a voice picks up on the speakers, whispering a name in a deep, sultry voice…

 

 

“JOHNNY DANGEROUS~!”

 

 

“After the Flesh” suddenly follows suit, thundering out across the arena to a sensational pop from the crowd, while on the stage a thick, white smoke begins billowing out, completely immersing the stage! Overhead on the Smarktron, clips of the Barracuda in action flash by – Johnny hitting a Shooting Johnny Press on Todd Cortez, Ace Lezaire trapped in his over-the-shoulder Boston Crab and tapping like a lunatic, a spinning heel kick to Mike Van Siclen’s dreadful skull!

 

“Every one of those images taken from a successful Cruiserweight Title defense,” notes Comet.

 

“Only because he wouldn’t want to add any shots of his recent Intercontinental-Television title match in there,” adds Bobby. “Johnny was schooled by the Challenger to the World Title, Janus on Smarkdown!”

 

All the while, dozens of strobes light up the set, partially illuminating the Barracuda as he steps through the curtains and creeps into the middle of the smoke… and finally emerges through the cloud at the top of the ramp. He stops and gazes out at the crowd through his high-tech shades as his trench coat flows carelessly with the smoke then finally, he thrusts his arms high over his head to a booming cheer!

 

“From Las Vegas, Nevada,” continues Funyon, and weighing in at two hundred and seventeen pounds, he is the reigning SWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOON… JOOOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DAAAANGEROUUUUUUS!!”

 

“For sixty one days now Johnny Dangerous has been Cruiserweight Champion,” says Comet. “Though he came up inches short to Janus on Smarkdown, ending his six month streak of wins in the singles division, he has proven himself to be a fighting champion and a good one to boot! When the World Title was being passed around like a joint over the past few months, the Barracuda’s numerous successful defenses were always a fresh breath of relief.”

 

“You say that like he’s already lost it.”

 

“Well that’s not what I mean, Robert, and you know it. Quit trying to find some hidden meanings in my words!”

 

“Hell,” muses Bobby. “It’s a wonder I can ever understand you to begin with, let alone decrypt your stupid geek-speak!”

 

After making his way down to ringside, Johnny disposes of his coat then flicks his shades into the crowd before locking eyes with his opponent. Spike just stares back fearlessly, and beckons the Barracuda to come into the cage.

 

“Man,” says Bobby. “I’m worried about what kind of mess we’re going to have when these two guys’ egos collide!”

 

Johnny enters through the cage door, passing off the Cruiserweight Championship to the outside referee, Ralph Nader, before Nadar swings the steel door shut with a loud CLANG~! and locks it shut with a chain and bolt.

 

“That door will stay locked until we have a clear cut winner here tonight,” notes Comet. He watches as the main referee for this match, Matthew Kivell makes a quick rundown of the rules before turning and signaling for the bell. “And I hope Citizen Kivell strapped on his wild animal tamer boots tonight; he’s going to need them to referee this showdown!”

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

 

“Bells gone,” says Comet, as the two competitors come out of their corners and start to make a slow circle. “Lets see what they can do!"

 

The two men quickly dash towards each other and Spike Jenkins reaches out for a collar-and-elbow tie up, but Johnny avoids the lockup and floats around behind, wrapping his arms around the Jenkin’s waist, looking to take the Challenger off his feet with a suplex! It never comes though, and you can thank the quick thinking of Spike Jenkins shifting all his weight down as he pries the Barracuda’s fingers off of his waist…then quickly spins around, reversing the situation on the Cruiserweight Champion, and tightly grabs around Johnny’s midsection instead! Elbows fly backwards – Spike ducks the first, but he isn’t as lucky with a second that catches him right in the temple to an “OOOOOH!” from the crowd, briefly stunning him…which is all the Barracuda needs. He grabs Spike’s arm then spins out to face his Challenger while twisting, turning, striving to take Spike’s arm into a wrench, “-and already Operative Dangerous is trying to take control of Citizen Jenkins’ arm,” notes Comet, “but I don’t think is about to give that arm up just yet!”

 

“Maybe not just yet,” replies Bobby. “However, we’ve already seen the Barracuda force countless opponents into a submission, and they weren’t exactly donating body parts to Johnny’s cause either!”

 

Sure enough, Spike powers out before Johnny can get a firm hold of the arm – spinning out of the Barracuda’s grasp then snapping on a quick side headlock! He clenches down as tight as he can, while Johnny bucks and flails to get free, eventually working his head away from Jenkins’ grasp and shoving the Challenger off! Spike takes off across the ring, hit’s the ropes and comes rocketing back towards Johnny-

 

WHAM!

 

-and Spike runs right into a stiff shoulder block! Johnny immediately drops down for the cover…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

NO!! Spike kicks out just after the count of one, shoving Dangerous off of him as he does then climbs back to his feet. He charges after Johnny, ducking down in time to narrowly avoid a lariat from the Barracuda, but manages to hook one arm then reaches around to grab hold of Johnny’s other arm, placing his back to the Barracuda’s before dropping to his knees and hauling the Secret Agent over him with a backslide!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TW-NOO!! Johnny thrusts his shoulder off the mat and rolls out of the backslide, popping back up to his feet… and right into a boot to the gut! Johnny doubles over from the kick, holding his midsection, and Spike rushes in from behind, slamming the point of his elbow into the back of the Barracuda’s neck! Johnny winces as a hand shoots to the back of his neck, leaving himself wide open as Spike skirts in and locks his hands around Johnny’s waist, hauling him off the mat-

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

-and Spike drills Johnny into the mat with a back suplex then quickly floats over for the pin!

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

TWO-NOO!!

 

“A kick out by Johnny Dangerous right at two keeps this match going,” says Comet. “So far this match has been going at break neck speed – a true embodiment of cruiserweight wrestling, but after that suplex by Citizen Jenkins… Johnny might need an octane boost to keep his speed up!”

 

“He’s probably just storing up all that precious endurance for later on in the match – no need to waste it all here in the opening moments.”

 

Spike pulls Johnny to his feet by his head then grabs Dangerous’ wrist and whips him across the ring…and straight into the turnbuckle-

 

 

WHACK!

 

 

Johnny slams into the steel post chest-first then hobbles two steps back, clutching his chest, and right into the waiting arms of “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins. He quickly wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist and hauls him off the mat for another suplex, but just as Spike brings him overhead, Dangerous flips out of the suplex and lands on his feet directly behind the Challenger! Johnny rushes in, looking to give Spike a taste of his own medicine with a suplex, but before the Secret Agent can lock his fingers around Spike’s waist, Jenkin’s fires an elbow back, cracking the side of Johnny’s skull! Johnny drops to one knee, holding his head as Spike scrambles to the top of the turnbuckle, moonsaults off, “-and Spike Jenkins is taking the first calculated risk of this match!” shouts Comet.

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

“Nobody home,” returns Bobby, as Johnny darts out of the way and Spike lands tailbone first into the mat, sending a shockwave up his spine and to a vociferous “OOOOOOOOH!” from the fans of Moline, Illinois! “I think Spike may want to figure his numbers a little better next time! Hey, I wonder if Johnny will be able to work that ass into any kind of a submission.”

 

“Citizen Robert,” snaps Comet, simply aghast. “Nobody but you would dare add such a maneuver into their repertoire and tell anybody about it – certainly not Operative Dangerous! Spike, however, may have cost himself the match with that missed moonsault.”

 

Spike gets to his feet though grimacing in pain as he massages his tailbone, and Johnny whips around with a roundhouse kick, sinking his foot deep into the Challenger’s gut! “OOF!” Is all Jenkins can muster up – Johnny’s kick forcing the wind straight out of his lungs as Spike doubles over and the Barracuda whips around in the opposite direction, dragging his foot across the canvas and sweeping the Challenger’s feet out from under him!

 

“And a Russian leg sweep puts Citizen Jenkins on his back,” says Comet, as Jenkin’s hits the mat hard and Johnny quickly drops down over him, “and we have another cover! This could be it!”

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

NOOOO!!!!

 

“Spike Jenkins kicks out right after the two count,” reports Riley. “That was awfully close though, considering how we are still fairly early on into this match. Another mistake like that and he could find himself starring up at the lights in a hurry!”

 

“Can’t say I disagree with that statement,” adds Comet. “Johnny Dangerous would gladly take such an opportunity with open arms, and I can’t say I’d blame him either!”

 

Spike begins to push his way off the mat, but apparently he isn’t moving fast enough on his own and Johnny reaches down, grabbing the Challenger by both sides of his head and pulls him the rest of the way up. Johnny rears his fist back then blast Spike right in the eye!

 

WHAM!

 

Spike stammers back, covering his eye as the crowds explode with excitement for the real action, the hard hitting punches, has finally begun! Not giving so much as even an inch for the Challenger to breathe, Johnny dashes forward, swinging his fist right into the bottom of Spike’s jaw-

 

WHAM!!

 

-and knocking him into the ropes!

 

“Johnny is starting to turn the heat up on Spike Jenkins with some stiff punches,” notes Comet, just before Spike almost makes the Masked Announcer eat his words when he rockets out of the ropes and viciously slams his arm into Dangerous’ neck with a lariat, flooring him to the mat! “Well for a second at least.”

 

“I’m glad you never tried to be a prophet because you would suck, Comet.”

 

Johnny hesitates for a second then springs back to his feet, ready to try this one again. He quickly makes an about face…and Jenkins blasts the Cruiserweight Champion back with a hard chop to the jaw that sends the Secret Agent rocking back on his heels!

 

SMACK!

 

Pulling the Barracuda away from the ropes, Spike whips him across the ring… and the Barracuda smashes back-first into the unforgiving steel post, drawing applause from the crowd. Spike grins widely, delighted to see some light finally sprinkling over him as he rushes forward to slam his shoulder into Johnny's chest, driving him again into the turnbuckle! The Secret Agent staggers away from the corner as the audience sings some praise to “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins… and it’s about damn time!

 

“Now Spike moves to take the lead from Johnny," remarks Comet. “This is starting to become a contest simply over the control of this match.”

 

Spike stalks his opponent, grin feral while rubbing his tender tailbone. He lunges forward…but Johnny catches him with a straight thrust to the chest, using the distraction of Spike’s throbbing backside to his advantage! He stumbles and Johnny catches his head, locking his fingers around Spike’s neck before leaping forward to pull the Challenger face down to the mat!

 

“A beautiful neck breaker!" Bobby cries. “A smart move if you ask me.”

 

“I tend to think that Johnny should be focusing his strategy on Citizen Jenkins back,” replies Comet. “Spike pretty much handed over a open opportunity there, and it would be unwise for the Barracuda to ignore that.”

 

“I can’t believe I’m the one to point out the strengths of Johnny here tonight, but if my assumptions are correct he may have one heck of a battle plan worked out here,” Riley says. “Think about it, Comet, Johnny already has Spike’s back hurting and if he can work that neck he’ll be able to lock on a submission from any direction.”

 

“Well,” replies Comet, rather surprised at his usually dim-witted announcing partner actually making sense tonight. “I do believe you may be on to something, Robert, let’s see how this holds out when we get to the Canadian Death Match.”

 

“You know my judgment is clouded when Tom’s in my presence – he just has that allure about him that makes me just want to drop my-”

 

“Alright, alright,” snaps Comet. “Focus on the match, you were doing well there.”

 

Spike recovers and stands, rubbing his neck just slightly. His eyes narrow as they regard Johnny Dangerous, who also gets to his feet. The two warriors square off, the crowd cheering them on. Suddenly Spike pounces forward, ignoring his nagging back and grabs a headlock, steering Johnny around the ring…but the Barracuda elbows Jenkins in the stomach, then ducks down and pulls Jenkins onto his shoulders! Johnny takes a step forward, but Spike elbows him in the head and slips down Johnny's back!

 

"I think Johnny tried to hit the reverse Samoan drop,” says Bobby. “The Barracuda is really dusting off his old bag of tricks there, though I honestly don’t know why – he’s been far more successful since he started relying on his martial arts background to fuel his career!”

 

"Yes, but a big hit like that could have sealed the deal for Operative Dangerous," Comet puts in. "However, Spike has been keeping his eyes peeled to avoid any major maneuvers against him - if Johnny wants to hit those moves he’ll have to rattle Citizen Jenkins’ cage a little more first."

 

Spike grabs at Johnny’s legs, pulling him back, but the Secret Agent slips out and moves away. The two men jump back to their feet and suddenly leap towards each other--locking up like true gladiators, fighting for purchase. Spike slips his arm around Johnny's in a headlock. The Barracuda struggles, but pushes Spike away and the Challenger takes off across the ring, picking up some serious steam. He bounces off the ropes-

 

CRACK!!

 

-and Spike charges back to meet a huge kick to the face! The crowd roars as Spike goes down hard and Johnny dives for the cover. As expected, Kivell drops to count…

 

 

ONEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-NOOOOOOO!!!!!

 

“Spike gets the shoulder up!” cheers Comet. “This match isn’t over yet, but it would appear that the Barracuda has gained the upper hand. Let’s see what he focuses his attention on!”

 

“Let’s hope it’s the cage,” says Bobby. “So far it hasn’t played much of a factor here.”

 

“They haven’t been leaping off the sides of it, but I think the cage simply being here is drawing out those animal instincts from deep within,” Comet says. “These two are stopping at nothing to press their attack, not even a nagging back or neck will slow this one down!”

 

Spike staggers to his feet, and Johnny moves in. He grabs hold of Jenkins’ head when Spike suddenly thrusts both palms into the Barracuda’s chest, shoving him back! He steps in and chops his hand clean across Johnny’s chest, rocking the Barracuda on his heels!

 

SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Spike cocks his arm back, looking to land a second chop, but Johnny quickly shoots a knee into the Challenger’s midsection, dropping Jenkins’ to his knees and ending his advance. He starts to stand when Johnny slides in and grabs him by the neck and shoulders…then takes off across the ring, pulling Spike along for the ride-

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

-and Johnny slings Spike, head-first, straight into the steel cage, marked by an “OOOOOOOH!” from the crowd!

 

“And the cage finally comes into play,” reports Comet. “There, Robert, happy now?”

 

“You bet your bottom dollar I am,” replies Bobby, giddily as Spike stumbles back from the cage, holding his head. “Why have the cage here if we aren’t going to drain every pint of blood out of Spike Jenkins!?”

 

Johnny quickly grabs Spike by his neck and shoulders once more, and like before, takes off towards the opposite side of the ring, pulling Jenkins along for the ride. They reach the edge of the ring-

 

-Spike digs his heels into the mat and props one foot up against the ropes for a doorstop, then grabs Johnny and slings HIM into the steel siding of the cage wall!

 

CRACK!

 

 

Pulling Johnny off the canvas, Spike sends the Barracuda across the ring and into a turnbuckle before quickly charging forward with a hard shoulder block. Johnny groans as he is shoved back against the cage! Trying to capitalize, Spike pushes Johnny up to the middle rope and sends a darting blow into the face of his opponent to distract him. Spike turns his back and places his arms underneath Johnny's… but Dangerous recognizes the danger and shakes loose from Spike's grasp, slamming his forearm down across the Challenger’s chest again and again in rapid succession! As his opponent reels, Johnny quickly wraps an arm around Spike's head and propels himself off the turnbuckle-

 

WHAM!

 

"A REVERSE TORNADO DDT!" Comet shouts over the acclaim of the fans, as the back of Spike’s skull slams into the canvas with a hard impact. "What improvisational skill by Johnny Dangerous!"

 

"Ah, but how long can he keep this up?" ask Bobby, a sinister glint in his eyes.

 

The two men quickly struggle to their feet, not pausing in their grappling for dominance. Spike hooks his arm around Johnny's neck, but the secret agent's elbow lashes out to catch Jenkins in the stomach, and the challenger doubles over as the crowd roars. Johnny hooks both his arms under Spike's, pulls him to the side of the ring, hops up onto the second rope and LEAPS out of the corner! Both men spin in the air as Johnny pulls his opponent down to slam face-first onto the mat.

 

"INCREDIBLE!" Comet hypes. "A double under-hook TORNADO DDT! Johnny is really trying to punish Spike's neck!"

 

"Just like I said,” chimes Riley. “Johnny is taking it straight to Spike’s neck, and if he can’t get a submission there he has the back as a… well back up plan.”

 

Johnny gets to his feet, shaking his head to steady himself after the exertion. Spike pushes himself up even faster, showing no signs of letting his injuries slow him down, and lashes out with a punch, staggering his opponent. The Secret Agent attempts a chop of his own, but Spike ducks and jabs Johnny in the stomach. As the Barracuda reels, Spike Jenkins catches him around the neck and ducks his head down. With a tremendous effort Spike hauls his opponent up in a suplex-

 

WHAM!

 

-and the crowd roars uncontrollably as Spike turns his opponent around in midair and sends him CRASHING down on his back! He stands over his fallen opponent, swaying dazedly, as the crowd gets to their feet.

 

"The elusive ORANGE CRUSH!" exclaims Comet. "What a spectacular move! Oh, both these stars are going to pull out ALL the stops tonight!"

 

"Crap, we have a cover too.”

 

ONEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-NOOOOOO! Johnny gets the shoulder up - marked with a roaring cheer from the fans! Spike bends down to haul his opponent up to his feet when suddenly, the prone Dangerous lashes out with a foot. Spike stumbles, the breath driven out of his gut… Johnny hops up, whips his hand across Jenkins’ chest and leans down to grab Spike around the neck. The crowd gets to their feet--a hard effort by the Barracuda and SPIKE is hoisted up into the air, then turned around and thrown down in HIS turn!

 

"And JOHNNY hits the ORANGE CRUSH!" Comet roars over the rampant applause. "I knew Johnny had more tricks up his sleeve!"

 

"I don't believe it," says Riley, staring in disbelief. “Johnny Dangerous is matching Spike Jenkins move for move!”

 

And those two have got to be hurting by now,” adds Comet.

 

Johnny drops over his opponent, and Kivell drops to count…

 

 

ONEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-NOOOOOO! Spike kicks out and rolls away to get to his feet, stumbling into the ropes. Johnny gets up, shaking his head, trying to focus through the exertion. For a moment the two simply stare at each other, breathing heavily and starting to really feel some of the effects of the moves they have been dishing out. Then the two combatants charge each other again, locking up in the middle of the ring as the audience shouts for more. Johnny attempts a knee to the stomach and Spike responds with his own, staggering the Barracuda. He tries to lock his arms around Johnny but the secret agent suddenly yanks Spike over in a classical judo throw. As Spike sits up, dazed, Johnny grabs his arms and pulls them backward, pressing his knee against Spike Jenkins’ shoulders!

 

"A SURFBOARD STRETCH!" shouts Bobby. "And we thought Johnny was going to go for the neck and back - but there's no reason he couldn't make Spike submit right here!"

 

"What do you mean by we,” questions Comet. “You’re the one who foretold of the ingenious battle plan, and unfortunately, it would have been a good one if the Barracuda would adhere to it--he’s spreading himself too thin here!”

 

Spike’s expression becomes fixed and glassy, a gruesome rectos, and the crowd begins chanting… a chant that starts with just a few fans in the nose bleeds and eventually filters all the way around the entire arena!

 

“LET’S GO JENKINS, LET’S GO!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!

“LET’S GO JENKINS, LET’S GO!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!

“LET’S GO JENKINS, LET’S GO!” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!!

 

“This is crowd is really coming alive for Citizen Jenkins,” notes Comet. “At this rate I don’t think they’d mind a victory by Spike Jenkins at all!”

 

“Pfft! He isn’t exactly in any position to be thinking about winning this match,” snaps Bobby. “Right now Spike Jenkins needs to just concentrate on trying to avoid the Barracuda’s attacks and stay alive in there!”

 

With the crowd cheering him on, Spike’s legs scrabble at the mat...and he gains purchase, almost dislocating his own shoulders as he pushes himself up off the mat! Johnny stares in disbelief then loses his grip on one of Spike's arms. The Challenger instantly spins and smacks Johnny in the face, sending the Barracuda stumbling away! He grimaces just a little as he shakes his arms out, staring at his opponent, Johnny Dangerous.

 

"Spreading himself a little thin, eh,” crows Riley. “If you ask me he’s going to have Spike Jenkins so disoriented, so pain ridden that he isn’t going to be able to do much of anything against Johnny!”

 

Johnny recovers, staring back at his opponent grimacing in the corner. Dangerous sets himself in a martial arts stance then lunges forward with a kick. Spike ducks quickly and lands a punch… Johnny retaliates with an elbow but the Challenger shrugs it off, kneeing Dangerous in the gut again, and again, “-and Citizen Jenkins is making a valiant stride for a come back here!” exclaims Comet, as Johnny staggers, Spike quickly ducks down and puts his head between Johnny's legs. He pushes upward and Dangerous tips forward, dangling down Fugue's back-

 

 

WHAAAM!!

 

 

-AND SPIKE JENKINS SITS DOWN, BOUNCING JOHNNY'S HEAD OFF THE MAT!

 

 

“OH MY SWEET MERCIFUL ODIN!” cries Comet over the incredible roar of the fans.

 

“What the HELL was THAT?!?”

 

“A DOUBLE LEG BACK PILEDRIVER!" shouts Comet, on the edge of his seat. “Johnny Dangerous is down and quite possibly for good after that!”

 

 

ONEEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-NOOOOOO!!!!! The crowd roars as Johnny kicks out, saving himself from demise! Spike, however, is certainly not cheering. He growls angrily as he steps forward, catching Johnny as he staggers to his feet and shoves him back against the ropes. Spike grabs Johnny by his shirt collar and shreds it wide open, revealing the Barracuda’s chest and much to the challenger’s dismay, a shrill of female fans rings out!

 

“I don’t think that was the kind of response Citizen Jenkins was looking for,” suggests Comet, as Spike cocks his arm way back, as far as it will possibly go-

 

 

SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!!”

SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!!”

SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!!”

SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!!”

SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!!”

SMACK! “WHOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

 

-and Spike unloads on the Barracuda with a set of eye-watering knife-edged chops, lighting up his chest as the crowd goes wild!

 

“And Citizen Jenkins is starting to really put the momentum back in his corner!” exclaims Comet. “He needs to keep the heat on and keep pressing his attack – this is the way you win a match, this is the way you become the Cruiserweight Champion!”

 

Johnny grits down on his teeth, trying to fight back the surging pain as he clutches his chest, but Spike doesn’t give the Barracuda any room to breathe. He grabs the Cruiserweight Champion by his wrist and whips him across the ring then takes off after him two beats later. Johnny hits the ropes and springs back… and Spike jumps up, and slams both feet into Johnny’s ribs with a drop kick, flooring him instantly!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOH!!”

 

Spike takes a quick study of the fallen Secret Agent, making sure he isn’t about to get back up before heading to the turnbuckle. He vaults himself to the top then quickly leaps off, spinning himself in midair… as the crowd watches in anticipation - some forever capturing this moment on film before Spike Jenkins finally comes down with a 450 legdrop across the Barracuda’s chest!

 

WHAM!!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

 

Spike floats over for a cover, and Kivell slides in for the count…

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

NOOOOO!!!!!

 

“Johnny Dangerous gets the shoulder up just after two,” says Comet. “His unwillingness to stay down is really starting to agitate Citizen Jenkins though!”

 

“So what?!” cries Bobby. “Does he expect Johnny to just fall down and hand over that Cruiserweight Championship?!”

 

Spike slams both fists into the canvas then stands to his feet. Johnny is starting to get up under his own power, but before he can get all the way up, Spike rushes in and pumps his knee into the Barracuda’s jaw!

 

CRACK!

 

Johnny’s head pops off the Challenger’s knee, and he goes bouncing away, crashing back down into the mat! Johnny rolls over and pushes his way back up, and Spike slides in from behind, locking his hands around Johnny’s waist-

 

CRACK!

 

-and Johnny fires an elbow into the side of Spike’s head, jarring the challenger loose of his waistline. He spins back around, stumbling, but quickly spins on his heel, launching his foot into the air for a devastating spinning heel kick… Spike watches, fearfully, as he knows there is no time to avoid this brutal blast, but the Barracuda simply can’t muster the strength to pull all the way through with this kick, and he spins out of control, crashing… and burning into the mat!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

“By Thor’s hammer,” shouts Comet. “Johnny tried to fight for control, but he is simply too disoriented, he couldn’t steady himself long enough for that spinning heel kick!”

 

“This is starting to look very bad for the Barracuda,” adds Riley. “He is falling into Spike Jenkins clutches at a very bad time – Lord knows this is the only way Spike can win a match, taking advantage of his opponent like a drunken girlfriend!”

 

Spike reaches down and under hooks Johnny’s arm then reaches down for the other, under hooking it as well, all the while the cheering crowd becomes almost deafening!

 

“Here comes the most devastating move in Spike Jenkins inventory,” says Comet. “If he can nail this… ”

 

And with every single last bit of energy he can muster up, crying out as he exerts himself, Spike hauls the Cruiserweight Champion off the Canvas and falls backwards-

 

 

 

WHAAAAAAAAM!!

 

 

 

-and Spike absolutely drills the head of Johnny Dangerous dead in the center of the ring, scattering his brains across the canvas! Fuck all…

 

 

…it’s over…

 

 

… and Spike can feel it like he has never, ever, not once felt it before!

 

“BAH ZEUS, THE HEAVENS HAVE OPENED UP AND SMILED ON CITIZEN JENKINS!” shouts Comet. “Spike just nailed the Barracuda with the Reckoning, and this one is all but over and we are about to have us a brand new Cruiserweight Champion!”

 

“I can’t believe it,” cries Bobby. “You mean to say Spike Jenkins can get the job done but everyman before him that lost to Johnny Dangerous couldn’t!? What’s wrong with this world!?”

 

Spike finally crawls over towards the crumpled, battered body of the Barracuda and grabs his leg then rears all the way back on it – firmly pinning Johnny’s shoulders to the mat! As expected, Kivell drops to make the count with the crowd chanting along, and Spike Jenkins nodding his head to every single count, just to make sure he remembers all three of them!

 

“No!” cries Bobby, “We can’t let Spike win the Cruiserweight Championship, we can’t!”

 

“By hecate he can’t!” roars Comet. “Spike’s doing it right now!”

 

 

ONEEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!”

 

 

“SWEET ZOMBIE JESUS, NOOOOOOO!!!” shouts Bobby, smiling widely but still shocked beyond all belief as he watches with only a nanosecond to spare before the fatal three count, “-AND HE KICKED OUT! Johnny Dangerous just kicked the fuck out, Comet, are you hearing me?!”

 

“I hear you… and I saw it… but I don’t believe it!” shouts Comet. “Johnny Dangerous is refusing to quit, he can’t quit, Spike is going to have to literally knock him out; that Cruiserweight Championship means way too much to Johnny for him to quit!”

 

Spike rushes to his feet, heading straight to Kivell to argue the count. He holds up three fingers, swearing on the bible that he had this match won, but Kivell shakes his head no and holds up a stern two fingers in reply. Spike storms off growling angrily. “Come on, Johnny, get the hell up!” he shouts, loud enough for the entire world to hear.

 

“Come on Spike, calm down,” says Comet. “You’re already closer than any other man has been at winning the title from Johnny.”

 

“Close is still no cigar,” snaps Bobby. “You can win a title by getting close, you have to beat him one-two-three!”

 

Johnny climbs to his feet, and Spike meets him there. Once more he shoves Johnny back against the ropes and cocks his arm back-

 

THWACK!

THWACK!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

-but Johnny suddenly fires off two rapid fire Shotei Palmstrikes into Spike’s chest, right in the sternum, rocking the Challenger on his heels! Stunned out of his mind, Spike nearly falls to the mat, and fallen he would if not for Johnny reaching out and grabbing onto the back of his head just before running him across the ring, and slinging him headfirst into the side of the cage!

 

WHAM!!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

His head bounces off the steel framework like a tennis ball, sending Spike Jenkins stumbling backwards… and back into a sharp drop kick to the back of the head by Johnny Dangerous, propelling Spike’s head into the steel frame for a second time! Latching onto the back of the Challenger’s head with his meat hooks, Johnny peels him off the side of the cage, pulls him back, and thrust him back towards the cage!

 

WHA... “Not quite!” Comet shouts in joy, as Spike desperately swings his foot up against the cage, saving another round of his face meshing with the cage, and quickly he backfires with an elbow, nailing the Barracuda square in the jaw!

 

CRACK!

 

Johnny staggers back, holding his head and Spike gives chase, pulling back on the Barracuda’s arm and-

 

WHACK!

 

-Johnny quickly swings his fist upward, pumping his knuckles into Spike’s jaw with an European Uppercut! The shot stuns the Challenger briefly, but that’s all the time the Cruiserweight Champion needs! He ducks down and pulls Spike over his shoulders and stands back up in a fireman’s carry…the fans start howling with excitement… and Johnny leaps up, flips forward, “-and shatters Citizen Jenkins’ spine with the Spinal Explosion!” calls Comet. “That could be the final shot Operative Dangerous needs to seal his victory here tonight – there’s no way Spike’s back can withstand anymore abuse!”

 

However, Johnny doesn’t waste time with a pin attempt, feeling that his opponent wouldn’t stay down just yet and he heads for the nearby turnbuckle. He climbs to the top and faces the ring…and is astonished when he hears the crowd…

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“What’s this,” says Riley. “These fans are actually booing Johnny Dangerous?”

 

“I think this crowd is really hoping to see an upset here with this match,” replies Comet. “Right now Johnny stands about five feet up from retaining the Cruiserweight Championship!”

 

Johnny gazes at the crowd, his expression is rather confused. He finally turns his attention up to the top of the cage, glaring at the top of the gleaming metal structure, and the crowd reverses their jeering.

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

 

“Oh, no,” Comet cringes as he realizes what’s up. “Apparently these fans want to see Johnny come off the top of the cage to finish this match! Are they nuts?!”

 

“Apparently so,” replies Bobby, as Johnny nods and begins to climb the side of the structure, “but so is Johnny! He’s actually going for it! Don’t do this, Johnny, remember what happened to Spike!”

 

Behind him, Spike begins to crawl to his feet. The pain he feels is cleanly written on his scowling face, and yet he pushes on… still determined to win. He hobbles a step forward with one hand holding his neck…then reaches out and grabs Johnny’s foot, stopping the Barracuda’s ascent up the cage!

 

“He’s got him! This could be a very bad situation for the Barracuda,” says Comet. “I knew Johnny should have nailed him when he had the chance!”

 

“You knew?! You were the one cheering Spike Jenkins on,” snaps Bobby.

 

Johnny wraps his fingers around the cages fenced siding, holding himself in place before kicking his free foot out, nailing Spike in the mouth!

 

CRACK!

 

Spike goes reeling back, but quickly reasserts his position and chases after Johnny, determined to not become another victim to the Barracuda’s legacy! He vaults to the top of a turnbuckle then he himself begins scrambling up the cage wall, and the crowd excitedly cheers both men on!

 

“This is not good, simply not good,” mutters Comet. “Someone could seriously get hurt up there!”

 

“I think that’s the point, Spandex-Pants!”

 

Johnny gets to the top of the cage first. He sits down on the edge and faces himself toward the ring as Spike crawls to the top just to the side and a little lower. Johnny kicks his foot down, but Spike bats it out of the way then vaults himself up the rest of the way, clinging to the edge of the cage as he thrusts his fist upward, clubbing Johnny in the gut!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOH!!”

 

“And Johnny could be setting himself up for a very bad fall,” roars Comet, watching as Johnny slumps backwards over the edge, handing the top part of his body on the outside edge of the cage. He holds himself in place with his legs though, and sits back up-

 

SMAAAAAAAAAACK!! “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

“OH MY GAWD, NO!” shouts Bobby, as Spike cuts loose with one hellacious knife-edged chop into Johnny’s neck, right in the adams apple! Johnny grabs his neck and inadvertently leans back… a little too far back… and the crowd rises to their feet, watching Johnny fall back of the side of the cage to the outside floor-

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOO! Johnny, in utter desperation reaches up and clings to the top railing of the cage, dangling himself off the side of the cage… and above the outside floor!

 

“By the last call of the kutula,” cries Comet. “That was nearly too close! Johnny came within an inch of permanently injuring himself… and that’s on top of losing the Cruiserweight Championship!”

 

Johnny starts pulling himself up to safety, and he comes face to face with his opponent, Spike Jenkins. Both men hold on to the side of the cage on opposite directions, getting a foothold in the cage wall fencing to steady themselves. They stare holes through one another for about ten seconds, breathing heavily… until Spike finally fires off the shot heard round the world – nailing Johnny square in the forehead! The crowd “OOOOOOOH’S!” excitedly, and Spike fires off, and nails the Barracuda right in the kisser, rocking his head back! Johnny begins to feel himself falling backward-

 

“OH, NO! I CAN’T WATCH!”

 

 

-BUT HE FRANTICALLY REACHES OUT FOR THE SIDE, KEEPING HIMSELF FROM GOING ANY FURTHER!!

 

“Close call there,” reports Comet. “I nearly thought he was a goner there!”

 

Johnny pulls himself back against the cage then quickly retaliates to Spike Jenkins’ strikes, nailing him in the face with a Shotei Palmstrike!

 

THWHACK!

 

The blow nearly causes Spike to see stars, but still he holds on… and like a true warrior, takes two more Shotei’s to his noggin!

 

THWHACK!

THWHACK!

 

The crowd holds on to the edge of their seats for dear life as they watch the Challenger, Spike Jenkins sway back and forth, and slowly his hands begin to give way… and Johnny reaches over the top of the cage, grabbing onto Spike’s head… Then slams his forehead against the top of the cage’s railing!

 

CRACK!

 

Johnny pulls Spike over the railing, keeping him from actually falling and dangling him by his chest from the top as he begins to stand to his feet at the top of the cage. He straddles over the Challenger, who is fading in and out of consciousness, and moves his hands underneath Spike’s torso, gut wrenching him.

 

“What’s Johnny up to?” says Comet. “He’s standing on the top of the cage and it looks like he wants to land some kind of gut-wrench suplex.”

 

The crowd moves to the edge of their seats, watching almost horrified as Johnny finally leans forward… then shoves off the side of the cage, tumbling over Spike’s back and tearing the Challenger off the cage and they plunge…

 

ALL…

 

 

THE…

 

 

WAY…

 

 

D

O

O

O

O

O

O

W

N

.

.

.

 

 

 

… into the depths of the cage-

 

 

 

 

 

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

-AND JOHNNY BRINGS SPIKE DOWN BACK-FIRST, DRILLING HIM INTO THE CANVAS WITH A BRUTAL SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB!!

 

“BAH ZEUS, ODIN, AND THOR COMBINED!” shouts Comet, leaping from his seat as both men glance off the mat and go bouncing away, nearly rattling the entire ring and cage loose of every single bolt! “I think Johnny Dangerous may have just broken Spike Jenkins in two with that – By Zeus, what a devastating move… Spike’s going to need spinal fusion surgery after this!”

 

“But look, Comet, Johnny’s down too, he can’t even make the cover,” cries Riley. “I’m not sure who hit harder at this point!”

 

The crowd cheers, applauds and chants ever-so-loudly, all nine thousand fans standing to their feet!

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“HO-LY SHIT!”

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

Neither the chants nor cheers are hardly register though, as both men are crumpled to the mat - lying on their backs and breathing heavily as Kivell steps forward to check on the two competitors status... and Johnny bolts upright with a huge battle cry!

 

“He’s alive,” Bobby gleefully cries. “This is it, Comet, the Cruiserweight Champion is about to retain!”

 

Johnny rolls onto his back, ever painfully…then slowly begins pushing himself off the mat with his arms… He draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaags himself across the mat, leaving a trail of pain across the canvas, and finally gets far enough to pull himself over Spike Jenkins body before finally collapsing.

 

“Johnny’s alive,” reports Comet, “and he’s moving. The Barracuda is so desperately close to leaving 13th Hour with the Cruiserweight Championship – just like he came!”

 

“He’d better hurry the hell up,” adds Riley. “At this rate we could be here till midnight!”

 

Johnny reaches forward and digs his nails deep into the canvas then pulls himself closer to Spike…and flops face-first to the mat while heaving an arm over the Challenger’s chest. Kivell drops to count…

 

 

 

ONEEEE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

 

 

Matthew Kivell’s hand slaps the mat the third and final time to finally, thankfully end this match! He jumps to his feet and signals the timekeeper to ring the bell and the crowd goes simply ballistic nearly drowning out “After the Flesh” as it makes its victory lap from the speakers!

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

“What a match,” cheers Comet. “What a match! Johnny Dangerous may have won and retained his precious Cruiserweight Champion, keeping the legacy alive… but ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins took the Barracuda to his limits! It took everything Johnny had to defeat Citizen Jenkins tonight!”

 

“Yeah, well I placed my bets on the right line from the get go,” remarks Bobby. “I didn’t doubt the proven Champion against his challenger, even if I think Johnny Dangerous will never surpass the mid-card.”

 

Kivell receives the Cruiserweight Title from a ringside assistant as the outside referee, Ralph Nader, charged with the only task of holding the keys to the cage door, finally unlocks the cage.

 

“The winner of this bout,” booms Funyon, “and STILL… THE SMARTMARK WRESTLING FEDERATION CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOON… JOOOHNNY ‘THE BAARRAAACUDAAAAA’ DAAAANGEROUUUUUUS!!!!”

 

The Cruiserweight Championship belt is laid across the Barracuda’s chest. He glances down at it and moves his hand around the gold plate, clutching it close to his heart.

 

“I’m almost beginning to wonder if any man will be able to pry that Cruiserweight Title away from him,” ponders Riley. “Maybe we could get Janus to slim down and battle for the Cruiserweight Title, we already know Johnny can’t beat him! Hell if Rane can drop that much weight, surely Janus could.”

 

 

“It’s a good thing our next match is the Casino Floor Brawl which will be taking place on the Lady Luck Riverboat Casino, as we have quite a mess to clean up here,” reports Comet, completely no-selling Bobby’s comments. “So gear up, Citizens, get ready to groan and get ready to see who will cash in… and who won’t cash out – it’s Hollywood Boulevard versus the unlikely team of Crow and ‘The Notorious’ John Duran with the Tag Team Titles on the line!”

 

“Be there… or be square,” adds Bobby, tracing a square in the air…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT.

[the.weej 0]

Our scene opens up on a bird's-eye shot of the beautiful Lady Luck Riverboat Casino, floating gently along the Mississippi river. The large wheel churns at the water gently, pushing the boat forward as we fade to a shot of the inside of the casino, a blackjack table where "The Notorious" John Duran sits, casually smoking a cigar as the dealer deals him another hand. He takes a long, contented puff, wearing his casual clothes as he takes a good, long look at the card that rests facedown. Duran taps the table, the universal symbol for a hit, and the dealer readily obliges.

 

He mutters a curse and flips the facedown card, revealing a combined total of twenty-two. Pissed, he sits back, puffing on his cigarette once more as behind him, Antichrist's number-one superstar himself, Crow, steps through the crowd and taps him on the shoulder. Duran, slightly unnerved, hops a bit, turning around to face Crow.

 

"What?"

 

Crow looks at Duran with a 'isn't-it-fucking-obvious' expression on his face. "What the bloody hell are you doing, mate?"

 

"I'm playing high-stakes blackjack."

 

"In case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of a tag titles match."

 

"Actually, Crow," Duran says, "as far as I'm concerned, this is an SWF-sponsored gambling trip. I haven't seen Van Siclen or Cortez yet, they haven't seen me, and I'm more than comfortable just sitting back, playing some cards, and letting them keep their tag belts. I don't even like tag teaming, and I sure as hell don't like you."

 

"And I'm not a big fan of you either, mate," Crow replies, "but a little gold would be nice, you know?"

 

"Whatever."

 

Duran turns back around as the dealer gives him another hand, this one apparently more favorable, as Duran mutters "Stick."

 

We cut to a shot of Mike Van Siclen, making his way through the crowd and wearing a delightfully tailored black suit with a pure-white shirt and tie, and a black bowler with a white stripe, apparently just for good measure. He signals one of the waiters -- "Two martinis, please." -- and continues walking briskly, obviously searching for someone. Behind him, Todd Cortez follows in a matching suit but without the hat, his eyes focused just as much as Van Siclen's.

 

"See, Todd, this is what's known as taking advantage of your opponents," Mike says, a tad condescending. "If we can make the first strike, then we win the match. Especially if we strike as hard as I intend to."

 

"Mike, don't you think they're planning the exact same thing right now?"

 

"Crow and Duran? Please. They couldn't plan their ways out of a paper bag... oh, thanks, bro."

 

The waiter comes back with the martinis, and Van Siclen deftly grabs them, downing his in one large shot and clenching the glass tightly in his hand. "Todd, mi amigo, don't let that shit go to waste. Drink up."

 

Todd stares down at his drink, unimpressed with Van Siclen's attempt to get him to break his vow of no alcohol. He follows Van Siclen as he continues to walk through the crowd when he notices two people that seem to stand out amidst the glamour girls and senior citizens that are frequenting the casino floor. "Yo, Mike. I think I've found 'em."

 

Todd points, and the camera follows his finger to see Crow and Duran, hunched over a hand of blackjack. We cut back to a shot of a grinning Van Siclen, adjusting his bowler with one hand and holding up his glass with the other. "Cheers, brother."

 

Cortez raises his glass as well in toast, then charges forward, letting out an almost Tarzanesque yell as he comes forward and smashes the glass into the back of John Duran's head! The crowded casino lets out a collective cry, as Crow turns around... to see Van Siclen charging as well, his arm extended with the glass held out, and it smashes hard into the bridge of the Antichrist Superstar's nose! The casino roars out again as Crow falls to the floor, while Duran is slumped over the blackjack table, blood dripping down onto the green felt.

 

Van Siclen bends down, grabbing his bowler and flipping it nonchalantly onto his head. The Spectacle grins, turning to Cortez. "See, this is what the SWF is all about. Oh, and you owe me for that martini."

 

Duran pushes himself up, incensed by Cortez's cheapshot. He turns around and grabs Todd by the throat, throwing him up against the wall and pounding him with several body punches before picking him up over his head and throwing him down onto the blackjack table! While it doesn't break, cards, chips, and people are sent scattering, effectively killing anyone's lucky streak at the table. Van Siclen grabs a bloodied Crow by the hair, dragging him over towards the slot machines and ramming his face into the side of one, then simply letting the Antichrist Superstar slump back to the floor. Duran comes over as Mike puts the boots to Crow, locking the Spectacle in a full nelson as a maneuver to pull his opponent away from his ally.

 

"Todd? TODD!?"

 

Van Siclen calls out to his partner, a note of urgency in his voice as Cortez begins to come to on the blackjack table. Hearing the call of his friend in need, Cortez swipes a beer bottle from a casino goer, jumping off the table and smashing it over John Duran's head! Duran immediately loses his grip on Mike, choosing instead to clutch his head in agony. Van Siclen falls to all fours, looking up to give Cortez a thankful nod, as Todd proceeds to grab Duran by the scruff of the neck, charging forward and slamming him facefirst into a slot machine! Todd pulls Duran's head up again, and for a second time, Duran's face meets the metal machine. Cortez looks back at Van Siclen, who dusts off his suit, oblivious to Crow sneaking up behind him. Cortez lets out a yell, trying to warn his partner...

 

"MIKE! COMIN' AT YA!"

 

Van Siclen looks up in Todd's direction, but the warning turns out to be a distraction, as Crow plasters Van Siclen in the back of the head with a serving tray! Mike topples forward, taking down a middle-aged couple with him in the process! The man and woman squirm away in shock, while Crow stands above all three of them before reaching down and pulling a begging Van Siclen back up to his feet and grabbing him by the arm, spinning him around and making him dizzy before tossing him facefirst into a nearby wall! Cortez turns away from Duran, seeing the carnage that his partner is falling victim to, but as the Urban Legend goes to help out he's spun back around by Duran, who clocks him across the cheek with a forearm shot. Todd reels back, and Duran crawls over to the velvet rope over by the payout window, grabbing the brass pole and unhooking it from the rope, proceeding to drive the pole into the forehead of Todd Cortez! Duran wields his pole (!) as he paces over the body of Cortez, until he hears his old foe turned partner Crow call out to him...

 

"Duran! Now this one!"

 

Crow yanks Van Siclen up and holds him by the shoulders, shoving him towards The Notorious One, who swings the brass pole like a baseball bat, smashing it into Van Siclen's ribs! A cough comes sputtering out of Mike's mouth, as every last ounce of air comes rushing out of his body, preventing him from blocking a second shot, this one across his back and knocking him down onto the floor next to Cortez! Duran throws down the pole and walks over to Crow, while the Boulevard lay on the floor, moaning and groaning, licking their respective wounds.

 

Numerous people can be seen complaining to security, as the last of the bystanders attempt to escape the carnage, placing themselves out of harms way, but are shocked to hear that these four men are cleared to do this! An obviously pissed-off middle-aged lady with a beehive can be plainly heard screeching, "Wrestling! But that's FAAAAYKE!", but as Van Siclen and Cortez pull themselves up to their feet, it's all too obvious that this is REAL. The duo speak softly to one another so that Duran and Crow can't hear them.

 

"You okay?"

 

"I just got my forehead dented by a pole, Mike."

 

"I know. How're you feeling."

 

"I've been better. You?"

 

"Not bad. I think he only broke two ribs on that one. He was totally aiming for three, though. Listen, we...oh, you mother..."

 

"What?"

 

"That goth bastard and his long nails...he tore the suit!"

 

"Mike..."

 

"Don't Mike me! Do you know how much this cost!"

 

"Considering you made me buy the same exact one, I do."

 

"Oh man, I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. Time for plan B."

 

"What was plan A?"

 

"There wasn't a plan A."

 

"So what's plan B?"

 

"Continue with plan A."

 

Van Siclen, seeing Crow and Duran coming back for more punishment, dashes off into a crowd of people, shoving casino-goers out of the way at will. Cortez looks up, seeing Crow and Duran, and mutters a sarcastic "Because -that- makes sense..." before taking off after Mike, wanting no part of Crow and Duran.

 

The four men quickly become lost in the mass of people looking to get lucky, and Van Siclen, leading the pack, quickly becomes distracted by an open seat at the high-stakes poker table. He jumps in, taking off his watch and tossing it to the dealer, who gives Van Siclen a befuddled look before dealing him in. Van Siclen eyes his cards, a slight grin forming on his face as he takes off his bowler, sliding it into the pile of chips.

 

Cortez, meanwhile, finds himself at the roulette table, and he watches keenly, seemingly entranced by the spinning of the wheel. He watches, as does a crowd of people as the wheel spins... and spins... and spins... and it stops, a twenty-nine! The woman next to Cortez lets out a scream, jumping onto Cortez and screaming wildly! "I WON! I WON!"

 

Cortez, baffled, grabs the woman in a bearhug, spinning her around as she continues yelling about how she won. Cortez stops, facing away from the roulette table...

 

...and staring dead into the eyes of John Duran. Cortez's eyes widen, and thinking quickly he shoves the woman back, into Duran's stomach! Duran grabs her from behind roughly, taken by surprise, and the Urban Legend, thinking quickly, yells out "RAPE!" The crowd in the casino begins yelling about "Rape, what rape?", but Cortez has already taken advantage of Duran's immense confusion, turning to his side and lashing out with a huge Superkick, over the girl's head and into Duran's chin! Duran lets go of the girl, falling backwards like a redwood, and the girl looks at Cortez with a wide-eyed expression. Cortez can do nothing, merely shrug and dash in another direction, wanting nothing to do with John Duran when he comes to.

 

Back at the poker table, Van Siclen has dragged this hand out far longer than anybody should, and a crowd has gathered around the table, watching intently as Van Siclen scratches his chin. He pats his back pocket, looking for his wallet, but when he finds it's not there he turns around to look for it...

 

...and in a ploy that's already been used once in this match, Crow is right there! Van Siclen looks at Crow, who holds Van Siclen's wallet tantalizingly close to the Spectacle's face, obviously enjoying the look of rage on Van Siclen's face. Angrily, Mike slaps Crow's hand away, but this only serves to piss Crow off, and the Antichrist Superstar takes a step towards Mike. Van Siclen, thinking quickly, takes one of the cards out of his hand, pressing it against Crow's forehead and slashing it violently down Crow's face! Crow lets out a yelp of pain, grabbing his face as Van Siclen turns back to the table, throwing down his five cards.

 

"Royal Flush, you fucks. Give me those..."

 

Van Siclen grabs his bowler, putting it back on. He stuffs his watch back into his pocket and grabs the chips on the table, holding them close to his chest as he runs off, in search of Cortez, and hopefully not coming in contact with Crow. As Van Siclen dashes off, Crow gets to his feet, and we can see an angry red gash forming down the center of his face, blood starting to ooze out of it. He grabs the nearest person -- a fat, George Costanza-looking guy in a tux, and throws him against a wall.

 

"Where'd the gay guy go?"

 

The fat man points to his right, and Crow dashes off, in hot pursuit of Van Siclen!

 

We switch to a shot of Cortez, who finds himself pacing the aisles of slot machines, looking over his shoulder every so often to make sure he’s not surprised by Duran or Crow. Cortez walks through the hordes of people dropping their nickels, dimes and quarters in an effort to score, and comes upon an empty seat. After again checking to make sure the coast is clear, he mutters to himself “What the hell” and takes a seat, pulling his gold chain out from under his shirt and kissing his cross, praying that maybe, just maybe, he’ll hit big. Cortez reaches into his pocket and pulls out a quarter, dropping it into the machine, and drawing back the lever. Cortez watches the machine, hoping for the win.

 

“C’mon baby, make this worth my while.”

 

The machine stops it’s rotation. A cherry shows up in the first slot. Seconds later, the middle slot stops. Another cherry.

 

“C’mon…c’mon…”

 

Third slot stops spinning…and it’s a third cherry!

 

“I won…I WON!”

 

Quarters come pouring out of the machine, spilling onto the floor, while an annoying siren lights up and wails, signaling Cortez as a winner. He drops to the floor, picking up his jackpot, only to have a pile of the quarters stepped on by someone’s massive foot. Cortez looks up, and staring down at him is John Duran.

 

“This time you lose, Todd.”

 

Cortez gets up slowly, keeping his eye on Duran, and clenching his fist…then throws the handful of change into Duran’s face! With Duran blinded by the flying silver pieces of coin, Cortez grabs the stool and swings it at Duran, cracking him in the side of the head! Duran falls down, attempting to catch himself, but instead pulling an unsuspecting slot player down with him! Several onlookers help the poor lady up, but Cortez makes a run for it…only to stop and come back and grab the rest of his booty that lay on the casino floor. Cortez then makes a run for it, brushing past casino security guards, and catching a glimpse of Van Siclen, still dodging Crow.

 

“MIKE!”

 

Van Siclen looks back, and raises an arm, signaling to Cortez where he is…but Cortez winds up spotting Crow not more than ten feet from Mike! Crow turns around and spies Van Siclen, then glares at Cortez before charging The Spectacle, the cut on his forehead still as bloody and tender as raw meat. Van Siclen’s face turns white once he finds he’s been caught, and he freezes, unsure of what to do next.

 

“Hey, my man. That guy over there, he’s been counting cards all night!”

 

As soon as Cortez points that out to security, the two guards rush Crow and block him from going after Van Siclen, asking him to go with them. Crow attempts to brush past them, but the heavies take none of his guff, and push him right back! Crow proclaims his innocence, and points to the cut on his head, but the guards have none of it, and lead him away, down a nearby hallway. Cortez comes over to Mike and watches Crow get dragged away, turning around to peer at Hollywood Boulevard vengefully. Van Siclen offers up a cocky wave, as Crow disappears behind a door.

 

“You hit?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“How much?”

 

“$250.”

 

“How much did you put in?”

 

"A quarter."

 

“Sonuva…where’s Duran?”

 

“By the slots?”

 

“I suppose he hit too?”

 

“More like I hit him.”

 

Van Siclen chuckles, patting his partner on the shoulder and laughing off Cortez’s dry humor.

 

“Well, seems like things are going are way again. Feel like taking a breather?”

 

“I’m staying with you from now on. I can’t take many more surpise attacks. Next thing you know the old ladies will be clawing at me.”

 

“Some of them are very rich, Todd.”

 

“Mike, don’t even go there.”

 

“Hey, you do what you gotta do. Times are tough.”

 

“All right, what’s the REAL plan, Mike?”

 

“Plan? We don’t have time for a new plan, Todd my boy. The show is about to start!”

 

“Show?”

 

Van Siclen turns Cortez’s head to face straight, and points down the hallway to the banquet room.

 

“Shall we?”

 

Before Cortez can even respond, Van Siclen starts cheerily jogging towards the banquet room, and Cortez shakes his head, starting off in pursuit of his partner. From here, we cut to a shot of Duran, angrily getting to his feet, grasping a few quarters that the Urban Legend forgot and staring wildly around the casino area.

 

"I've FUCKING HAD IT!" the Notorious One bellows, capturing the attention of most of the casino. He stares around, a crazy look in his eyes, obviously looking for something, and when he doesn't find it he cries out once more, "WHERE IS THE FUCKING GOTH!?"

 

Nervously, a frail young lady walks up to the Notorious One, tapping him on the shoulder. Duran turns around, and the lady points towards the room where the security guards dragged Crow. Duran growls out a thank you and runs off in that direction. He reaches the room, and without any hesitation whatsoever raises his huge black boot...

 

*BOOM!*

 

...kicking in the door! We can see Crow, sitting in one corner of the room, with three average-sized security guards surrounding him. For the average-sized Crow, this is intimidating, but for the monster John Duran, this is child's play.

 

Duran charges into the room, and as the first security guard turns around he gets leveled with a vicious lariat from the Notorious One! Crow grins as the second security guard makes a run for John, only to get gorilla pressed into the air! The third security guard nervously kicks Duran in the shins, but Duran can feel nothing, as he turns around and drops the second security guard on the third! Both men topple to the ground, and the three guards lay there, twitching, as Duran helps Crow to his feet.

 

"I thought you didn't like me, mate?" the Aussie asks.

 

"Yeah, but I could fucking kill those Hollywood Boulevard jackasses. Come on."

 

The two men stalk out of the room, Crow leading the way as Duran follows behind, acting as the muscle to Crow's brash leader. Crow grabs a fine young lady at the poker tables by the shoulder, spinning her around.

 

"Hey, beautiful," he says. "Have you seen a couple of dudes in black suits? The taller one's got a bowler, the shorter one looks like he should be mowing your lawn...?"

 

"Oh, them," responds the woman. "Yeah, I saw them headed towards the video horse racing lounge."

 

"Video horse racing?" Duran pops in.

 

"Nevermind that," Crow says. "Come on, John, let's go get 'em."

 

The two charge off, in the direction of the video horse racing lounge. The woman watches after them for a few moments, then pulls a cell phone out of her pocket, dialing up a number and raising the phone to her ear. "Hey, Mike? They're headed towards the video horse racing lounge."

 

We cut to a shot of Van Siclen and Cortez, watching the acrobats in the banquet hall. Van Siclen covers the receiver on his phone and whispers to Cortez, "They're in video horse racing."

 

"Video horse racing?"

 

"Nevermind that..." Van Siclen uncovers the receiver. "Hey, thanks, Katelyn. Say, are you free Saturday night?"

 

"No."

 

The phone disconnects, and Van Siclen shrugs, putting it back in his pocket. Cortez looks at him, and Van Siclen simply smiles. "What can I say, having five valets at one time wasn't the brightest thing I've ever done. Let's go."

 

Van Siclen grabs a pool cue off of a and Cortez charge off towards video horse racing, and we cut to a shot of the lounge as Crow and John Duran enter, Crow cupping his hands and shouting. "WHERE IS MIKE VAN SICLEN?"

 

The people in the room turn around, looking at the bizarre duo. Crow is bleeding from the huge cut on his face, his long black hair soaking wet and not tied back, and with a simple black t-shirt and jeans on. Duran looks slightly nicer, but he has several cuts on his face from the superkick earlier and the quarters to the eyes, and he too is bleeding. The people in the room are blood-free, and a particularly brazen old lady lets them know it. "Get a band-aid, homos!"

 

Duran steps forward, growling out that "We're not homos," but Crow puts a hand on his stomach, stepping forward. "We're not homos, but we're looking for a couple... dude in a bowler, a little Mexican kid? You seen them?"

 

The answer is a resounding "NO!" throughout the room. Crow and Duran look at each other. "I do believe we've been had, mate," Crow says.

 

"Fuck Hollywood Boulevard," growls Duran.

 

"Fuck me?"

 

Mike Van Siclen steps into the room, adjusting his bowler cockily. Cortez steps in behind him, holding a bowl of nachos. He eats one, nodding along as Van Siclen speaks.

 

"Fuck you."

 

Van Siclen twirls to his side, looking to knock Crow out with a superkick... but the Antichrist Superstar ducks it, charging under Van Siclen's leg and taking it out from under him! The crowd in the lounge boos a bit as Van Siclen topples, clutching his leg in pain as the bowler goes flying off of his head. Crow gets to his feet, eyeing Cortez cockily and looking towards Duran…only to get the bowl of chips thrown into his face, catching him off-guard. Cortez then swings the empty metal bowl, whacking Crow in the side of the head and taking him out of commission. Cortez swings at Duran, who ducks under the shot and grabs a waistlock on Cortez, lifting him up and then driving his knee between Todd’s legs! The inverted atomic drop stuns Cortez, and Duran swipes the bowl out of his hands, then cocks his arm back and swings forward, beaning the Urban Legend square on the temple with it! Cortez topples, and Duran does something that no one else has dare even try to do during this entire fiasco…he goes for the cover…but there’s not a referee in sight!

 

“REF! HEY, ANYONE SEE AN SWF OFFICIAL?”

 

Duran keeps the cover on Cortez, causing people to enter the video lounge to wonder why there’s a guy laying on top of another man on the floor. Duran just growls at them, scaring them away, as if his compromising position hasn’t done that enough.

 

“IS THERE A REFEREE AROUND HERE ANY PLACE?”

 

“I’M A REFEREE!”

 

A voice is heard from the back of the room, and it’s none other than the SWF’s own rookie official, Joseph Stephenpick. The doofy official, bearing a slight resemblance to the character Eugene from Grease waves his hands to show Duran where he is.

 

“GET DOWN HERE AND COUNT!”

 

Joseph quickly puts his drink down at the bar and scurries over, dropping to the floor and counting Cortez’s shoulders down.

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!!"

 

"THR..."

 

“Yes…YES, COME ON, COME ON, PIED PIPER! COME ON PIPER! COME ON PIPER!”

 

Rather than count three, an ecstatic Stephenpick jumps up, hollering at the video screen that’s showing the horse racing simulcast. Duran looks up, his face a mix of bewilderment and anger.

 

“COUNT THE FRIGGIN’ PIN!”

 

The request falls on deaf ears, as Stephenpick’s eyes are glued to the screen, watching the final lap of the race.

 

“COME ON BABY! COME ON PIED PIPER!”

 

Frustrated, Duran gets up and blocks Joseph’s view of the screen, staring down at him in typical Notrious One intimidating fashion.

 

“Hey! Get out of the way, man! I’ve got $500 on that horse!”

 

“Do your job.”

 

“Let me win this race first, then I’ll do my…YES! PIED PIPER! HE WON! DID YOU SEE THAT! HE WON! I’M RICH!”

 

Duran, out of morbid curiousity, turns around, but with the simulcast providing a distraction, Cortez gets up and delivers an NFL worthy punt to the nether regions of the Notorious One, dropping him like a sack of bricks! With Duran no longer in his way, Stephenpick tries to move past the carnage, ecstatic over his big win.

 

“I’ve gotta go cash out! I’ve got to…”

 

Cortez gets up and puts a hand in the way, stopping Joseph in his tracks.

 

“You’re going to do your job, THEN you’re going to cash in.”

 

“Look, I’ll give you $100 if you just let me go…”

 

Cortez just glares at the preoccupied official, who gulps and then backs off, his face showing that he’s willing to cooperate. Cortez goes and helps Mike to his feet, and as Mike gets up he limps over to where his bowler lay, putting it back on his head and nervously fingering the brim as Cortez questions him.

 

“How’s the leg?”

 

“It’s been better, but I…SHIT…”

 

Mike’s worried call preceeds an oncoming Crow, who lunges at both Hollywood Boulevard members and topples them both with a jumping double clothesline! Stephenpick jumps out of the way in the nick of time, nearly having the Antichrist Superstar land on top of him. Crow grabs Van Siclen, bowler-less, by his tattered suit jacket, yanking him up to his feet and then dragging him past the crowd before hurling him over the bar, shattering glasses and beer bottles everywhere! Crow turns back to face Cortez, and sees him getting up, so he delivers a boot to the side of Todd’s head, preventing any comeback effort from the streetfighter.

 

Pulling Todd up to his feet, Crow grabs the Urban Legend by the scruff of the neck before running forward, ramming Todd headfirst into the wall! Before Cortez can slump to the floor, Crow grabs him in a rear waistlock, lifting him up over his right shoulder and back suplexing him onto the floor of the…NO! Cortez, ever the agile one, lands on his feet, flipping out of the move! He turns away from Crow to make an exit, but finds himself running into an coming John Duran…and somersaults under Duran’s raised leg, causing Notorious to Yakuza Kick his own tag partner! Without pausing to think about it, Cortez snags the fire extinguisher off the wall, turning towards Duran and spraying him square in the eyes, stopping him dead in his tracks and fogging up the video lounge!

 

Duran swings wildly while blinded, nearly taking out several innocent gambling addicts in the process, until he stumbles over near the bar, where Van Siclen pops up and sprays him in the face with the water hose, washing the foam off! Duran gags on the water, then wipes his face off to see a smirking Van Siclen standing behind the bar, hose in hand (not like that, perverts). Duran lunges over the bar, grabbing Mike by the throat and trying to pull him over the bar, but Cortez runs over and rams the extinguisher into Duran’s back! Duran releases his grip, and Mike turns to the many, many bottles behind him, selecting a bottle of Malibu rum and smashing it over the head of John Duran! Duran is now slumped over the bar, and Van Siclen climbs up onto it, reaching down and holding the semi-conscious Duran in a facelock before kicking off the bar and swinging around, hitting a Tornado DDT from the bar to the floor, spiking the head of John Duran into the carpet, leaving a nice puddle of blood for the underpaid cleaning staff to have to take care off! Van Siclen goes for the cover, and Stephenpick is right there to do his job, falling to the carpet to make the count!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THREE… TWO!" CROW YANKS VAN SICLEN OFF OF JOHN DURAN!

 

Van Siclen rolls onto his back, looking up at the sneering goth that’s standing over him…and then witnesses Cortez come flying at Crow with lefts and rights, staggering him. Crow absorbs the shots, then gets a burst of adrenaline and slowly starts to sell them less and less, until they eventually have minimal, if any effect. Crow then ducks down and grabs a waistlock, charging forward to push Cortez backwards through the crowd…AND RIGHT THROUGH A GLASS DOOR THAT LEADS OUT TO THE DECK OF THE RIVERBOAT!

 

The patrons raise their arms instinctively, protecting their faces from the flying glass. Cortez sits against the railing, several cuts now open on his head and all dripping blood, causing his face to quickly become a crimson mask. Crow may very well have added a few new scars to his collection as well, as his back is visibly cut up from going through and then landing on the glass. A crowd gathers by the doorway, looking at the two fallen wresters in shock and awe.

 

We cut to a shot of Van Siclen, grabbing his bowler from off the floor and putting it back on his head. He looks up to see Crow and Cortez lying on the deck, blood streaming from their respective persons, and he makes his way through the crowd, trying to plan out his next move. The Spectacle nervously glances over his shoulder, making sure that John Duran is nowhere to be seen. Satisfied with his brief search, Van Siclen turns back to the action on the deck, jogging over to Crow's limp form and lifting the Antichristian Phenomenon to his feet. The impromptu crowd boos the Spectacle as he drives repeated right knees into the Gothic Avian's nether regions, causing Crow to cry out in pain AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN! After about twelve knees Van Siclen finally tires of this game, and he shoves Crow backwards into the side of the boat. Crow hits the edge, his elbows resting on the railing and preventing him from toppling over as he struggles to keep his balance. Van Siclen eyes the smaller man with a devious look, seeing the vast Mississippi river behind him and seeing instant victory within his grasp!

 

Mike goes over to his partner, grabbing Cortez under the shoulder and lifting him to his feet. The crowd is hot and roaring, wanting to see more action, and Van Siclen has to shout to get his point across to the Urban Legend.

 

"TODD! Did you watch my old Lost at Sea tape!?"

 

"Yeah, Mike, it was a good match!"

 

"We're gonna write the sequel right now!"

 

Van Siclen nods at Cortez, who nods back as Van Siclen spins around, charging Crow and driving his shoulder into Crow's midsection, smashing it between his shoulder and the side of the boat! Van Siclen's momentum takes him back a few steps, and Crow crumples to the hard wood of the deck of the ship, gasping for air. The crowd boos the move, and even begin chanting for the Gothic Warrior!

 

"LET'S GO CROW! LET'S GO CROW!"

 

Van Siclen sets his hat down on the ground, and then grabs Crow by the hair, lifting the Antichristian Phenomenon to his feet and placing his head under Crow's jaw. The wrestling fans on the boat begin jeering loudly, knowing what is to come as Van Siclen hops into the air, coming down and sitting out with a hard jawbreaker! Crow's jaw snaps against the top of Van Siclen's head, and Crow snaps back into a standing position, only to get hit in the face...

 

*CRACK!*

 

...with a superkick from Cortez right under the chin! The force of the kick from the Urban Legend jacks Crow upwards and back, so that his legs hit the edge of the boat! Crow's natural momentum take him over, and the flailing of the Gothic Avian's arms can't save him as he topples over and falls

 

ALLLLL

 

THE

 

WAY

 

D

O

W

N

.

.

.

 

*SPLASH!*

 

... and into the water! Cortez drops to one knee, the massive amount of blood loss affecting him as Van Siclen gets to his feet, grabbing his bowler and putting it back on. Breathing heavier, the Spectacle searches wildly for Joseph Stephenpick, and upon seeing the doofus of a man, Van Siclen calls out to him.

 

"They're out of guys to fight us, Stephenpick! We win!"

 

"You can only win by pinfall or submission, Mr. Van Siclen."

 

"Well, can we steer the boat over the gothic retard and score a pin that way?"

 

"I don't see anything in the rule book against that."

 

"Well, which way to the damn control room?"

 

Stephenpick points towards the crowd, signaling that the control room is on the other side. Van Siclen thanks the referee, stalking off towards the crowd, and the crowd begins cheering wildly! Van Siclen grins, nodding and accepting the cheers as his own, closing his eyes and posing...

 

...only to get LEVELED WITH THE MONSTER JOHN DURAN HEY HE'S NOT VA'AIGA BUT HE CAN STILL MAKE YOU SEE MORE LIGHTS THAN THE CHRISTMAS TREE IN CENTRAL PARK, KNOCK YOUR BOWLER OFF LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Van Siclen hits the hardwood hard, very possibly unconscious, and the crowd absolutely erupts, loving the high-impact maneuver from Duran!

 

"NO - TO - REE - US! NO - TO - REE - US!"

 

Duran ignores the chanting of the crowd, instead focusing his attention on Cortez, getting to his feet through his blood-loss-addled state, looking for some payback on John. Duran, naturally, will have no part of that, and as Cortez runs in his direction Duran grabs him by the arm and between the legs, lifting him up and dropping him back with a Samoan drop! Duran quickly slides back, making the bridge, and Stephenpick counts!

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

 

"THRE -- NO!" Cortez gets the clean kickout, and Duran gets to his feet, lifting Cortez up with him. A young fan in the crowd shouts out to "FINISH HIM, JOHN!", and John points in his direction, nodding savagely as he grabs Cortez between the legs and around the neck, lifting him up into a burning hammer position! Those wrestling-savvy fans light up once more, knowing what is to come as Duran shoves Cortez's legs behind him, sitting out and driving Cortez's neck into his shoulder with a vicious inverted neckbreaker!

 

"BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!" the tiny fan yells, and Duran nods once more, grinning. He turns to Cortez, who lay twitching on his back facing the night sky, and jumps on top, looking for the pin!

 

"ONE!"

 

Van Siclen, meanwhile, can hear the count being made. He reaches out, grabbing his bowler and pulling it towards him. He climbs to one knee, sizing Duran up carefully...

 

"TWO!"

 

Duran looks up at the referee, expecting the three count and a title for himself! Van Siclen, seeing Duran's jet-black hair, sizes him up and...

 

"THRE --"

 

"OW!"

 

Duran yelps, rolling off of Cortez and grabbing the back of his head in pain. He sits up, removing his hand from the back of his head to reveal a coarse red line of blood. Van Siclen gets to his feet, going over to Todd nonchalantly and grabbing his bowler, putting it back on. Van Siclen grins, fingering the brim of his bowler again as he faces Duran, who gets to his feet, a savage, deadly expression in his eyes!

 

The Notorious One charges Van Siclen, looking to level the cocky bastard with something, ANYTHING to let the rage escape, but Van Siclen, pure business, ducks down, shoving his head between Duran's legs and throwing him over his back with a back body drop, but as Duran goes to fall back Van Siclen grabs him by the legs, halting him in midair! Van Siclen holds John there, suspended by the legs across Van Siclen's back, his head facing the cold, hard wood of the deck as Van Siclen holds him there for a few moments before sitting out, driving Duran's head into the hard wood with a vicious back-to-belly piledriver! Duran falls back, possibly out cold from the maneuver, and Van Siclen climbs on top of him, looking for the pin!

 

"ONE!"

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

"THREE!"

 

Stephenpick calls out a loud "DING DING DING!", grabbing Van Siclen's arm and raising it into the air! Stephenpick smiles, calling out to the crowd.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners, and STILL the SWF Tag Team Champions, Mike Van Siclen and Todd Cortez, HOLL - e - WOOD BOULEVARD!"

 

Van Siclen gets to his feet, lowering his bowler so that it obscures his eyes and grinning devlishly for the raucously booing crowd. He holds his hat there for a moment before grabbing Cortez and lifting him to his feet, supporting his bloody partner as Stephenpick brings the tag titles over to them, and Van Siclen holds them both up, celebrating enough for both men as we fade back to the Mark of the Quad Cities...

Edited June 14, 2004 by realitycheck

[the.weej 0]

The strains of ‘Lux Aeterna’ by Clint Mansell ring out over the PA system of the Mark of the Quad Cities Centre and the fans in attendance raise the volume accordingly. On the Smarktron two well-recognised figures appears with the clockface symbol of 13th Hour in the background; one muscular and tattooed, showing first his back with the words ‘No Salvation’ visible and then turning round so the camera can read the word ‘Silent’ that is inked over his breastbone; one slim but toned, with spiky black hair, eyeliner and black nail varnish. The words ‘Last Man Standing’ form underneath them, and the crowd lets out a mighty cheer for what might just be the sleeper match of the evening!

 

“Well Citizens, I hope you’re all ready for our next match!” Cyclone Comet booms, his mask not concealing his excitement. “And what a match this is; it’s time for Nathaniel Kibagami to prove once and for all that he is better than Toxxic, the upstart rookie from the UK!”

 

“Comet, they’re currently at one match apiece in singles, and Toxxic’s team beat Kibagami’s team on Smarkdown like the bitches they are in the six-man tag match,” Riley argues. “How can you possibly have any faith in Kibagami? Sure, he won the World Title-”

 

“Which is more than the so-called Hot Commodity has managed,” Comet reminds his partner in commentary.

 

“-but he lost it again, what? 10 days later?” Riley finishes contemptuously. “And he lost it to Danny Williams as well, the man that Janus will destroy later tonight!”

 

“Be that as it may, Robert,” Comet answers, sounding thoroughly unconvinced, “tonight is no ordinary match between these two - it is a Last Man Standing match, and let me assure you that Citizen Kibagami is no stranger to Last Man Standing matches! But now, it’s time for the introductions...”

 

The cameras cut to the plump figure of Funyon in the middle of the ring, a faint patina of sweat glistening on his brow as he stands under the lights. The fans are already cheering, and the noise increases as the ring announcer raises the mic to his lips. Being the showman that he is Funyon waits for a second... another second... takes a deep breath... and starts to speak.

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” he booms in the time-honoured opening. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall - and is a LAST... MAN... STANDING MATCH! The first man who is unable to answer the referee’s ten count will be declared... THE LOSER!”

 

On cue, the Smarktron abruptly blacks out. The crunching guitars of Lostprophets’ ‘We Still Kill The Old Way’ ring out across the Mark of the Quad Cities Centre and jagged white letters flash up, spelling out the words ‘Prepare To Be Proved Wrong’. The shot cuts to Toxxic taking Mike Van Siclen off a balcony and through a table with the Toxxic Shock Syndrome, the devastating landing timed to coincide with the-

 

‘GO!’

 

*BOOOM!!*

 

-explosion of red pyro that announces the arrival of the SWF’s premier Straight-Edger! The Smarktron briefly shows a clip of Toxxic’s lopsided grin, then cuts to clips of his matches - the All-Show Brawl with Insane Luchador, hitting the infamous Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas and, most tellingly of all for tonight, dropping Kibagami on his head with the Caffeine Bomb in their first meeting. The smoke starts to clear, and as the main riff hammers out through the speakers a familiar spiky-haired figure appears past the swinging pendulum, tonight wearing the white shirt of the England national soccer team with the letters “sXe” over a number ‘9’ on the back, in tribute to his home country’s valiant performance against France in the European Championship earlier in the day.

 

“Introducing first;” Funyon continues, “accompanied to the ring by his girlfriend Jet; from Nottingham, England; weighing in tonight at 218lbs, he is ‘the Straight-Edge Sensation’... TOXX-IIIC!!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

 

The reception from the Illinois fans is hostile to say the least, but Toxxic pays no attention to them as he walks towards the ring with Jet trailing after him. The straight-edger’s grey eyes are fixed upon the squared circle, even when he stops at the base of the ramp to snap his head from side-to-side. He knows that tonight he has no room for error. Tonight, he has no room for distraction.

 

“Robert, Toxxic’s rise through the ranks of the SWF has been nothing short of remarkable,” Cyclone Comet states, admiration for the Brit in his voice for once. “Just over four months ago this man was debuting on Storm, the first show after the Clusterfuck, a debut which saw him defeat the seasoned veteran Jacob Helmsley. His subsequent string of victories has matched such legends as Atlas and Charlie Matthews.”

 

Toxxic takes a second to plant a kiss on the cheek of his girlfriend, but his mind isn’t on it. Jet knows exactly what he is going through and takes the England shirt that he thrusts into her hands without comment. The best way that she can help her boyfriend tonight is to watch, cross her fingers and hope. A moment’s error due to her presence could be disastrous - but she will not sit in the back and watch on a monitor. One way or the other, she wants to be at ringside when this ends.

 

“He came out of nowhere, out of the British circuit, and EXPLODED into the SWF without stopping by the recently-closed SJL, the first man ever to do so. Tonight he has a chance to really make his mark with a high-profile Pay-Per-View win over a competitor who has become almost legendary in this sport...” Comet continues as Toxxic rolls into the ring and ascends a turnbuckle, “...but this man is also a bitter, twisted and thoroughly unpleasant human being, a man who shows no respect for others and who is so obsessed with success that he has embarked upon a hate campaign against Nathaniel Kibagami - simply for the crime of beating him.”

 

Toxxic looks out at the crowd through dark-rimmed eyes. He spreads his arms wide, palms flat and facing downward, the musculature of his lithe frame moving beneath the skin. The skin itself is smooth and unbroken save for the thin red scars on his face and back from where Kibagami threw him through a plate glass door. There are no tattoos or piercings, no hint at the turmoil that churns beneath the surface save for the dead stare of the grey eyes. Tonight Toxxic feels a lot older than his 21 years.

 

“Comet, I think you’re absolving Nathaniel Kibagami of his share of the blame here,” Riley argues. “He dropped Toxxic on his head with the Demonstar Driver! And then he not only mocked the Hot Commodity on national TV the show after he won the World Title - on the show after that he assaulted Toxxic and threw him through glass doors, causing injuries that meant Toxxic lost the ICTV Title to Janus later that night!”

 

Toxxic drops back to the canvas and turns away from the nearest portion of the crowd. The people don’t mean anything right now. At one point they did; once he longed for their approval, to be greeted with cheers and respect. Now he simply wants to win, and win in such a way that no-one can ever doubt him again. The match is all that matters.

 

“Robert, from all I heard of that incident Toxxic deserved whatever he got,” Comet tells his broadcast partner. “Besides which it is always unwise to provoke a Dragon; especially the River Dragon!”

 

As if on cue, the lights start to drop inside the Mark of the Quad Cities Centre. A gentle, lilting guitar line starts to play, and as one the fans sit up and fall quiet. They know this song. They’ve heard a hundred times before.

 

This is Nevermore.

 

On the Smarktron Kibagami stumbles, falls, collapses in slow motion. The image of failure, so long associated with his career.

 

As ‘The River Dragon Has Come’ plays, the Smarktron flickers. Words appear.

 

They waver briefly.

 

They solidify. And the fans start to chant.

 

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

 

Of old the skilled first made themselves invincible

to await the enemy’s vincibility.

 

Invincibility lies in oneself.

Vincibility lies in the enemy.

 

Thus the skilled can make themselves invincible.

They cannot cause the enemy’s vincibility.

 

Thus it is said, “Victory can be known. It cannot be

made.”

 

-the Sun-Tzu, Chapter Four.”

 

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*BAM!*

 

The distortion hits, and the arena lights up – every available spotlight is trained on the entrance ramp. White blasts of pyrotechnics streak up, down, across the arena, back and forth along the ramp, sending sparks spiralling everywhere. The Smarktron flickers one final time and the image changes – the burning ankh, gigantic, red, consumed by flames, towers over the audience, three stories tall...and the first line of the song echoes out over the crowd.

 

‘Today, the warning came in the floooooooood...’

 

 

The ankh is gone, now – in its place is Kibagami, spiralling downward as he delivers the Year of the Dragon to a prone Danny Williams on the night that the Slaughterer finally reached the pinnacle of the SWF.

 

 

‘Architects and fools never cared for poor man’s bloooood...’

 

 

More clips flash by on the screen – a springboard gamengiri connects with Alex Zenon’s head, Kibagami plants an elbow in Janus’ heart with the Last Rites, and appropriately enough, a Demonstar Driver on Toxxic – and the ankh punctuates each of them, towering over the crowd...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

...and through the sparks that trail behind...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

...comes Nathaniel Kibagami.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“AND HIS OPPONENT!” Funyon booms over the deafening, repeated chants of the name. “From Phoenix, Arizona...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“...he weighs in tonight at 261lbs...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“...he is ‘The River Dragon’...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“...NA-THANIELLLLLL... KIBAGAAAAAAAA-MI!”

 

“RRRAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!”

 

Even though the fans knew perfectly well who the man in the red trenchcoat was long before Funyon said his name, the reaction is still IMMENSE. A faint smile plays over the lips of the River Dragon as he reaches the bottom of the ramp. He may not have the World Title any more, but he has the adoration of the crowd. And as he steps up to the apron and through the ropes, there is no question in anyone’s mind that he deserves it.

 

Well. Maybe one mind.

 

Toxxic is sat in the far corner, seated on the lowest turnbuckle with his arms stretched out along the ropes. His eyes don’t leave the Slaughterer for a second, but Kibagami ignores him as he shrugs off his trenchcoat and makes his crucifix symbol to the roaring crowd. Let the rookie wait. For now at least, Nathaniel Kibagami is the lord of all he surveys.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Citizens, it is a wonderful sight to see Nathaniel Kibagami in the ring again,” Comet states. “I will be the first to admit that Citizen Kibagami has not always been the pillar of JUSTICE~ that he had the capability to be, but now this man has found his moral footing once again it can be truthfully said that he has done it all.”

 

Kibagami stares out at the crowd, and they rise in response as his gaze sweeps around the arena. The River Dragon is painfully aware that his time in the ring is drawing to a close; age is gradually starting to catch up with him. But he knows that he still has enough left to show the rest of the federation exactly why he has been so feared over the years. Some people - Toxxic notably among them - questioned his motivation for seeking the World Title, but Nathaniel Kibagami now knows exactly why he still seeks it. And it is not for the remembrance of an old enemy but for the sake of himself, here and now.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Nathaniel Kibagami will not be stopped any time soon.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

And certainly not by the man he faces tonight.

 

Nathaniel turns to face his opponent, still seated in the corner, and fires off a couple of snap kicks into mid air. His reflexes are as good as ever, the driving force behind the blows still there. Zenon probably did him a (undoubtedly unintentional) favour by not booking him on Storm or Lockdown, allowing him to rest, and the six-man tag match on Smarkdown gave him a good warm-up in spite of his team’s loss. Tonight, Kibagami could take on the world.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic pulls himself up to his feet and cracks his head from side to side again. The grey eyes fix on Kibagami; cold, bleak and unreadable. The Brit hasn’t wrestled the same since his defeat to the River Dragon, the showboating crowd-baiting behaviour abandoned in favour of a detached, clinical style that usually ends with the opponent receiving the Dangerlust. All obstacles have been secondary to the straight-edger compared to getting Kibagami in the ring, one-on-one, and getting revenge. And tonight he has his opportunity.

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Well Citizens, referee Sexton Hardcastle has called for the bell and we’re underway here,” Comet enthuses as Kibagami and Toxxic start to circle each other warily. “Remember; the only way to defeat your opponent in this match is to make them unable to answer the referee’s ten-count - there are no surprises pins, no submissions, no out-of-ring count-outs and no disqualifications. It’s all about how well each man’s body will stand up to the punishment meted out by his opponent. Citizen Kibagami is bigger, stronger and in all probability tougher than Citizen Toxxic... but the so-called Straight-Edge Sensation is younger and probably better conditioned.”

 

“Translation; Kibagami’s a washed-up has-been who doesn’t even have his painkillers to save him now, whereas Toxxic is in the prime of his life and will run rings around him,” Riley replies derisively. “Kibagami won’t be able to hit Toxxic if he can’t catch him!”

 

The two men spiral in towards each other, as if each were an opposing magnetic pole. Kibagami is without a doubt the better technical wrestler, but Toxxic is faster and more slippery. They raise their arms, ready to come together in the classic collar-and-elbow tie-up... and at the last moment Toxxic ducks beneath Kibagami’s right arm, slips around behind the River Dragon and clamps on a reverse waistlock!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“A surprising move here from Toxxic,” Comet comments in mild... well, surprise. “Surely he’s not going to try and outwrestle Nathaniel?”

 

Kibagami’s hands instinctively dart to the black-nailed fingers clasped around his waist without wasting time seeing if Toxxic can even lift him effectively. He begins to prise the straight-edger’s grip loose, and as the Straight-Edge Sensation feels his hold weakening he tries to make his brief advantage tell by hoisting the River Dragon off his feet - but to no avail, as Kibagami manages to break his grip and then performs a standing switch with deceptive speed. In a moment he is behind Toxxic and with his own rear waistlock around the rookie’s midriff!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

A polite round of applause rises in Moline, Illinois in addition to the repeated chants, but these aren’t Japanese fans praising technical skill - the fans tonight want blood, and from one specific source. Kibagami considers his options for a moment; he could heave Toxxic overhead with a release German suplex, but he knows full well how agile the straight-edger is. Instead he simply uses his greater height and strength to lift Toxxic off the canvas and then swings him around, dumping the Brit down on his front with a basic rear takedown and scooting over to apply a textbook front facelock.

 

“Citizen Kibagami in no hurry,” Comet affirms. “He knows that as long as he keeps Toxxic safely grounded he has control of this match, and he can wear the smaller man down at his leisure.”

 

“Oh very nice, very safe,” Riley sneers. “‘Safe’ doesn’t sell T-shirts Comet! ‘Safe’ doesn’t make you a legend in this business! ‘Safe’ doesn’t get you a job on the commentary team after you end your distinguished in-ring career!”

 

“Oh I know, Robert. God only knows how well I know...”

 

On the mat, Kibagami tightens the pressure on Toxxic’s head with one massive arm. Toxxic isn’t an out-of-shape Alexander Zenon - it will in all probability take something more devastating than a punch to finish this contest, no matter what precedes it. And Kibagami knows one move that always ends a match, a move that has beaten Toxxic before - but it’s better to have a little head and neck work to set it up. So he tightens his grip still further, wrenching at the straight-edger’s vertebrae for good measure.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic lies facedown on the mat with the crushing weight of Nathaniel Kibagami above him and the iron grip of the River Dragon clamped around his head, causing his temples to pound and making thought difficult. He reaches up with his right arm and tries to find a weakness in Kibagami’s hold, but the Slaughterer knows his basics too well. Toxxic is not a good enough mat wrestler to find a way to squirm out, he’s not strong enough to lift Nathaniel up and throw him off and there’s no point reaching the ropes because there’s no rope break in this no-DQ match. But then again, if it’s no-DQ...

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

The Illinois crowd voice their displeasure as Toxxic’s questing right hand suddenly jabs forward, aiming at Kibagami’s face! The River Dragon tries to retain his grip but the clawing fingers scratch at his eyes, and with his only other option being to risk blindness Kibagami releases his hold and rolls sideways. Toxxic instantly scrambles up, not wanting to be recaptured, and in the moment before Nathaniel has his guard up he takes two quick steps forwards...

 

*SMACK!!*

 

...and launches a basement dropkick that connects with the Slaughterer’s head! Kibagami half-falls sideways, slumping down from the kneeling position he was in, but as Toxxic tries to crawl away and put some distance between them one hand snakes out and grabs the straight-edger’s right ankle! Toxxic looks back and sees the problem, shifts onto his back and lashes out with his left foot at Kibagami’s head - but Kibagami is prepared, and grabs that foot too! With Toxxic struggling on the mat the River Dragon pushes himself slowly to his feet, taking care not to give his opponent an opening, then throws all his strength sideways. In spite of his best efforts, Toxxic’s upper body skids over the canvas until his head and neck are underneath the bottom rope and hanging out over the ring apron. Kibagami pauses for a second, then falls backwards...

 

...and catapults Toxxic upwards, guillotining the rookie’s windpipe on the bottom rope!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“A devastating manoeuvre from Citizen Kibagami in the early going here!” Comet cries as Toxxic rolls around on the mat, clutching at his throat. “The former World Champion is sending a message to this young upstart; do not underestimate Nathaniel Kibagami, especially not in a Last Man Standing match!”

 

‘ONE!’

 

“Jesus, Comet, you make it sound like Toxxic’s going to die,” Riley bitches. “Look, he’s getting up already!”

 

‘TW-’

 

Toxxic pulls himself up on the ropes before Hardcastle can reach the count of two, unwilling to let Kibagami get even a sight psychological advantage - but before the rookie can set himself properly Kibagami quickly closes in, grabbing Toxxic by the shoulder and driving a knee up into the straight-edger’s gut.

 

“Sexton!” Riley calls in alarm. “Make him give the man some space!”

 

“It’s all legal, Robert,” Comet informs his partner cheerfully. “There is nowhere in that ring - nowhere in this arena - where Toxxic is safe from the River Dragon!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami takes hold of the winded Brit and clamps another front facelock on, but doesn’t go down to the mat - instead he fires off a couple more knees into Toxxic’s chest, driving the air out of his opponent still further. Now satisfied that the straight-edger isn’t going to be pulling anything fancy out Kibagami readjusts his grip and wrenches upwards...

 

...taking Toxxic up and over with the Downshifter Suplex!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Downshifter!” Comet cries. “I heard Toxxic’s vertebrae grinding together from here - just imagine what it must be like for the arrogant Citizen in the ring with Kibagami!”

 

“You know Comet, I can’t help but wonder why you keep referring to Toxxic as a ‘Citizen’,” Riley remarks, the desire to correct his fellow commentator proving stronger than the urge to cheer the Straight-Edge Sensation on, “I mean, he’s not a Citizen of this country, is he? Technically, he’s actually a subject of the Crown of the United Kingdom.”

 

“...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“...Citizens, I advise you to take refuge,” Comet announces, face suddenly grim. “If you have a bomb or tornado shelter, make for it now: Robert Riley has corrected me, and I believe that his facts are actually accurate. We await the end of the world.”

 

“Hey!”

 

In the ring, Kibagami takes a step back to check his handiwork. Toxxic rises to his knees, rubbing his neck, the Slaughterer takes two brisk strides forward - and Toxxic simply rolls out of the ring, underneath the bottom rope.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Citizen Toxxic is running away!? Comet exclaims in wonder. “But... the hate this man has for Kibagami, the arrogance he displays... I don’t think we’ve ever seen him run from anyone, and now he’s running from the River Dragon?”

 

“No,” Riley contradicts, still evidently annoyed about Comet’s previous remark, “he’s using his head. Why keep said head in the ring if someone’s about to kick you in it?”

 

Toxxic stands outside the ring, staring up at Nathaniel Kibagami who leans over the top rope like some vengeful, tattooed god. Two pairs of eyes meet, a steely determination glinting in both... and then Toxxic moves, darting off to the right. Kibagami goes to intercept, but as Toxxic reaches the ringpost he reaches out and grabs it, swinging his weight off the floor and around the corner of the squared circle and sliding back under the bottom rope into the ring! The Straight-Edge Sensation finishes by smoothly rising to his feet as his slide ends, all before Kibagami has gone two steps.

 

“Brilliant!” Riley applauds. “That’s where Toxxic’s advantage lies, Comet - speed; and he’s just demonstrated that eloquently to Kibagami. The so-called Slaughterer can’t keep him in the ring, and he can’t keep him out of it either!”

 

Kibagami nods thoughtfully, never taking his eyes from his opponent. He’s caught the meaning of what has just transpired - give Toxxic room, and he will outmanoeuvre the veteran in a flash. But Kibagami knew how dangerous Toxxic was coming into this match, and he’s not about to underestimate him. Nor is he about to give him the room he needs.

 

The River Dragon advances, spreading his arms wide. It should be possible to drive Toxxic back into the corner and cut him off from the rest of the ring. In a confined space Nathaniel knows that he has the striking and grappling advantage - the trick is keeping the quarry there. So the former Clansman moves steadily forwards, watching Toxxic’s eyes flicker as the rookie sees his avenues of escape narrowing but not wanting to move too soon... and then Toxxic does move, darting to the right again. Kibagami lunges, seeking to latch onto the fleeing cruiserweight...

 

...but Toxxic had merely feinted, and he abruptly changes direction and slides between Kibagami’s legs! Caught off-balance, Kibagami tries to turn, but Toxxic scrambles to his feet and launches a dropkick that catches the Slaughterer square in the small of the back and sends him stumbling forwards into the turnbuckles!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami turns, his temper starting to rise. The dropkick did little more than shove him away, but it stung his pride. Toxxic has risen to his feet again and backs off - cautiously, like a man watching a potentially dangerous dog. There is no mockery in Toxxic’s face to indicate that the dropkick was meant to annoy the River Dragon; there is no fear in the grey eyes either. There is simply the concentration of a man who has a job to do, who will not allow anything to prevent him from doing it, and who will stick at it for as long as it takes.

 

“Toxxic appears to be learning from his early mistakes,” Comet comments. “He tried to outwrestle Kibagami just once and found himself taking a beating as a result - he knows that he has to keep his distance.”

 

“Or pick the pace up!” Riley counters, as Toxxic suddenly dashes forwards, towards the advancing Kibagami. Nathaniel whips his right leg up and out, lashing at Toxxic’s head-

 

*wwhhhffff!!*

 

-but the blow passes over the Straight-Edge Sensation’s scalp as Toxxic ducks low, avoiding his adversary’s attack and hitting the far ropes. Kibagami turns once more, trying to track the Brit’s progress as Toxxic rebounds towards him...

 

*WHAM!*

 

...but to no avail, as the straight-edger lands a running spinning heelkick on the River Dragon’s jaw, dropping him backfirst onto the mat!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic bounces back to his feet immediately and awaits Hardcastle’s count...

 

‘ON-’

 

...but Kibagami rolls back up before the first syllable has even left the referee’s lips! With a snarl forming on his face the River Dragon breaks into a dead run from a three-point stance, springing forward even before he has fully returned to his feet. His right arm extends, looking for a Lariat... but Toxxic isn’t there, because the Straight-Edge Sensation ducks under the blow again! This time the Brit checks himself and turns, lying in wait... and as Kibagami’s momentum from the missed Lariat swings him around Toxxic jumps into the air, wraps his arm around Kibagami’s neck from the side and brings them both swinging down to the canvas!

 

*CRASH!!*

 

“Straight Edge! Straight Edge!” Riley yelps in delight. “How did your neck like that one, eh Kibagami?”

 

“Just fine, apparently,” Comet answers for the indisposed River Dragon, who is already pushing himself back up again. “It’s true that Citizen Kibagami’s surgically-repaired neck is a recognised weak point, but it’s going to take more than one Straight Edge Neckbreaker to cause him serious pain.”

 

“Listening to three hours of your ‘commentary’ might do it though,” Riley snipes. “It’s a pain in the neck as far as I’m concerned!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami rises back to a vertical base, but this time he has been unable to keep track of Toxxic’s movements. He shakes his head briefly to try and dispel the stinging sensation in his neck, and the rise in crowd noise warns him something is amiss. The River Dragon turns, attempting to draw a bead on his elusive opponent...

 

*SMACK!!*

 

...and Toxxic superkicks him right in the jaw! The force of the blow puts Kibagami straight back down again, and this time the former Clansman does not roll back up immediately.

 

‘ONE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘TWO!’

 

Kibagami sits up, rubbing his chin and glaring at Toxxic. Keeping his eye on the straight-edger the River Dragon gets up to one knee... but with his opponent’s weight unstable Toxxic charges in anyway, launching another basement dropkick at the River Dragon’s head!

 

*WHAM!!*

 

Kibagami falls backwards, but Sexton Hardcastle is not given a chance to start his count this time as Toxxic piles on top of his opponent and begins laying in with right hands! The first couple find their marks on Kibagami’s cheek and forehead, but then the Slaughterer gets his massive tattooed arms up to block the blows, and snakes his legs up to lock around Toxxic’s midsection. With the straight-edger now the one at a disadvantage Kibagami grabs Toxxic’s right arm and starts to pull, perhaps seeking to shift his legs up to his opponent’s throat and lock in the Triangle Choke, but Toxxic quickly jabs his free left thumb into the River Dragon’s eye!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

The fans don’t like that tactic, and Toxxic wriggles away again as Kibagami’s legs automatically unlock (and the members of the SWF roster watching the match on monitors backstage resolve to try the same method on Megan Skye). The straight-edger is first to his feet again, and as Kibagami is still in the process of standing Toxxic hooks both of the River Dragon’s arms up behind his back and places him in a vertical headscissors!

 

“Toxxic Shock Syndrome!” Comet cries in dismay. “Toxxic’s going for it already!”

 

The British rookie tries to lift Kibagami off the mat, but before he can get any leverage behind it Kibagami simply drags his arms downwards, easily overpowering Toxxic and wrenching free. Moments later Kibagami grabs Toxxic behind the knees and lifts his opponent clean off the floor before dumping him backwards throat-first over the top rope with a Super Hotshot!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“What a brilliant counter by the River Dragon, holding onto Toxxic’s legs to make sure he got hung out to dry!” Comet approves. “That move has attacked Toxxic’s throat again - not only will that make it difficult for the rookie to breathe, but any whiplashing effect can only help Kibagami’s setup game for the Demonstar Driver!”

 

This time it is Kibagami’s turn to prevent Sexton Hardcastle from making his count, as the veteran is quick to pull Toxxic back up to his feet. He effortlessly doubles the wheezing rookie over... then locks in a double underhook.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Comet, you had to go and say it didn’t you!?” Riley accuses as the fans in the arena start to buzz. They know what Kibagami is trying for.

 

But of course, Toxxic does too. And as Kibagami starts to lift he desperately shuffles his feet and manages to hook them around the second rope, preventing the River Dragon from bringing him vertical. Blocked, Kibagami ceases his efforts, and Toxxic twines his legs more thoroughly into the ropes. With the attitude that it can’t hurt to try again Nathaniel makes another effort at hoisting Toxxic up for the Demonstar, but he is once more prevented by Toxxic’s desperate struggles. Kibagami lowers Toxxic again and seems at a loss for a moment - then he swiftly changes the double underhook for a front facelock and hammerlock combination, falls backwards...

 

*BANG!!*

 

...and drops Toxxic on his head with a hammerlock DDT!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“And that’s just superb wrestling from the man they call the Silent One,” Comet applauds, “countering his opponent’s counters with elegant ease. Toxxic’s brief offensive flurry has been extinguished, and it’s becoming obvious that he has no hope of outwrestling Kibagami.”

 

‘ONE!’

 

“Unfortunately, I think you may be right,” Riley reluctantly agrees as Kibagami gets to his feet, waiting to see what sort of impact he has had. “Toxxic needs to stick to a hit-and-run strategy, at least until he’s worn the big lump out a bit.”

 

‘TWO!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“But Robert, Citizen Nathaniel’s gameplan has to be making sure that he dictates the pace; Toxxic may not get the chance hit and run!” Comet counters.

 

“I find your lack of faith disturbing...” Riley mutters, wheezing into the microphone like James Earl Jones with asthma.

 

‘THREE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic starts to stir on the canvas, pushing himself up.

 

‘FO-’

 

And before Sexton Hardcastle can continue his count further Kibagami drops down, grabbing the straight-edger’s left arm and leaning back, trying to hyperextend the elbow with a Fujiwara armbar! Toxxic yells out in pain and grabs the ropes... but of course to no avail, as Hardcastle can do nothing except tell Kibagami to break the hold, and the River Dragon for some reason does not seem to feel inclined to heed the official.

 

“Pointless,” Riley declares. “This match doesn’t feature submissions; Kibagami might as well just let go!”

 

“Ah, but if he weakens Toxxic’s arm now then Citizen Kibagami removes some of his opponent’s arsenal, and with no-DQ in effect Toxxic cannot break the hold by reaching the ropes,” Comet replies superciliously. “It’s just a means to an end, Robert.”

 

“Shut up, you’ll only encourage him!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic grimaces in pain as Kibagami wrenches back on his trapped limb, but there is no easy way out. Quickly the straight-edger runs over his options, and takes the only course of action open to him. He starts pulling with his right arm, trying to get further into the ropes, and swings his legs over the ring apron to give himself some more leverage. Kibagami is a heavy man and Toxxic’s left arm doesn’t want to follow his body, but gradually the man from Nottingham manages to get his legs down to touch the arena floor, the starts hauling his torso out as well. Kibagami fights to stop him, but after a few seconds of effort Toxxic is able to twist his upper body so that the River Dragon is no longer putting pressure on his elbow and-

 

*WHAP!*

 

-reaches through the ropes to punch Kibagami in the face! Kibagami releases his now-useless hold and rolls away, but Toxxic wastes no time in shaking his arm out. Instead the straight-edger jumps back up to the apron, takes hold of the top rope in both hands, vaults upwards and-

 

*WHAM!!*

 

-takes the rising Kibagami down with a springboard spinning heelkick! Toxxic rolls through the move, coming smoothly to his feet again, and pounces on Kibagami’s right arm in his turn. The Slaughterer tries to shake him off but is only on one knee and doesn’t have full manoeuvrability, and Toxxic twists the River Dragon’s limb over his head in an armwringer. Kibagami comes to his feet, trying to alleviate the pain, but Toxxic holds on.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Payback is a bitch, eh Comet?” Riley gloats as the straight-edger doggedly maintains his hold on the veteran. “Toxxic is going to pick Kibagami apart a piece at a time, starting with that arm!”

 

“Fine, Robert,” Comet replies, “as long as you realise that the moment Toxxic makes a mistake he’ll drop faster than Amy Craven’s underwear.”

 

Kibagami is trying to reach the ropes, more from force of habit that anything else although should he manage it he will be able to pull the same trick that Toxxic did. But the Brit is aware of the risk, and as the River Dragon makes another lunge he times his movements against his opponent’s shifting weight, then makes a run for the turnbuckle. Kibagami is forced to follow, and for a second Toxxic runs straight upwards. Then he dives back through the air, maintaining his grip...

 

*WHAM!!*

 

...and CRUSHES Kibagami’s arm beneath a flying legdrop!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami grunts in pain as his bicep is mangled, but even after the impact Toxxic keeps hold of the River Dragon’s wrist. The straight-edger rises to his feet and makes sure to keep the pressure on his opponent’s shoulder and arm, then abruptly drops and spins, wrenching Kibagami’s arm still further! This time Kibagami’s strangled yell is audible as his shoulder protests against such treatment, but before he can capitalise on the release of his arm Toxxic straddles him in a standing back mount position and grabs the Slaughterer’s thick black ponytail, hauling upwards to get Kibagami to stand.

 

“Is there any need for that?” Comet asks with distaste.

 

“You have no idea...” Riley replies with relish.

 

Kibagami can do little except come to his feet, but the moment he achieves a vertical base Toxxic wrenches back on his hair and slaps a reverse headlock on. It looks like the rookie may be about to go for the Detoxx, but it quickly becomes academic as Kibagami reaches up and back and claws at Toxxic’s eyes!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“CRIMINAL!” Riley bellows, so outraged that he inadvertently uses one of Comet’s phrases.

 

“LEGAL!” Comet roars back, clearly enjoying himself. And as Toxxic staggers back, releasing his grip and wiping at his face, Kibagami straightens, turns, and approaches.

 

*CRACK!!*

 

A kick to the left arm, causing Toxxic to wince as the pain inflicted by the Fujiwara armbar flares up.

 

*CRACK!!*

 

Another, but this one glances off Toxxic’s knuckles as he shields the arm with his right hand. He tries to back away, but-

 

*CRACK!!*

 

-Kibagami fires off one to the stomach, doubling Toxxic over. And Kibagami underhooks both his opponent’s arms, and tries to lift once more.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

But Toxxic struggles, and Kibagami can’t quite get the grip he needs to complete the Demonstar. Annoyed, the River Dragon tries to readjust - and Toxxic’s left arm just manages to squirm away from the grip of Kibagami’s right one, the damage caused earlier lowering the Slaughterer’s control over the limb by the crucial amount. Before Kibagami can react Toxxic has twisted away, then the straight-edger grabs Kibagami’s right wrist and ducks behind him, bringing the arm up in a hammerlock!

 

“A close call for Toxxic there,” Comet says, sounding disappointed at Kibagami’s lack of success. “That’s twice he has barely managed to escape the Demonstar Driver-”

 

“-but excape he has!” Riley interjects. “Personally Comet, I think the fact that the Toxxic Shock Syndrome and the Demonstar Driver have such similar setups will mean that both men will be very aware of the possible counters to them, forcing them to rely on other moves!”

 

“...since when did you become Mr Analyst?” Comet asks in surprise, looking at his partner.

 

“Since I wanted to make it clear that Toxxic will win because, unlike Kibagami, he doesn’t rely on that one damn move!” Riley snorts.

 

Kibagami tries reaching backwards with his left hand, but a man of his build was never going to be all that flexible and Toxxic takes great care to stay back. The straight-edger wrenches the right arm up once more - then releases it, and reaches forward to wrap both hands around Kibagami’s forehead from behind. Nathaniel raises his hands to his head to try and prevent it, but he is too late...

 

*BANG!!*

 

“Underkill!” Riley shouts as Toxxic sits out and the back of Kibagami’s head bounces off the canvas. “Come on Sexton, do your job!”

 

‘ONE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic gets back to his feet and backs away from Kibagami.

 

‘TWO!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The look on the straight-edger’s face hasn’t changed. He still radiates the same bleak concentration as he stares down at his opponent’s body.

 

‘THREE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami starts to stir on the mat, groggily shaking his head from side to side. If this had been a regular match and Toxxic had gone for a pin then the River Dragon’s instincts would probably have made him kick out, but in this situation a wrestler is slower to rise. For some reason, the body is unwilling to get back up to face more pain when it would be oh so easier to stay down... but Kibagami doesn’t think like that.

 

‘FOUR!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami likes pain no more than the next man; but he can deal with it, and he can work through it. And as Kibagami starts to push himself up off one knee, the death’s head smile splits his face.

 

‘FI-!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Each and every time he feels it, Kibagami knows that he is alive.

 

*WHAM!*

 

Darting in, Toxxic nails the River Dragon with a European Uppercut.

 

*WHAM!*

 

It appears that Toxxic wants Kibagami to feel very alive, and Kibagami staggers back to the corner under the renewed onslaught. Toxxic grabs his opponent’s right wrist and goes for an Irish whip... but the impetus is fairly weak, and Kibagami has no trouble in reversing it and sending Toxxic towards the opposite turnbuckles instead.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

But this is exactly what Toxxic was counting on, and as he reaches the far corner he vaults up to the top rope, then comes flying back at Kibagami with the diving clothesline known as the Role Reversal...

 

...and Kibagami ducks!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The River Dragon drops to the deck and Toxxic goes sailing overhead, but even as he realises he has missed his target Toxxic is readjusting, and he lands rolling. The momentum carries him upright almost back in the corner they started from, and Toxxic vaults up and backwards again without pause, praying to the God he doesn’t believe in that this time Kibagami will oblige him and be where he’s supposed to be...

 

*CRASH!!*

 

...and for once in his life, Kibagami co-operates. Unable to track his speedier opponent, Nathaniel had time to get back to his feet and turn around, but not to take evasive action.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

For a second the two men lie on their backs, adjacent on the canvas. Hardcastle starts the count...

 

‘ONE!’

 

...and Toxxic’s legs curl up almost under his chin. They stay there for a moment, like a coiled spring - then abruptly, he kips up!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“Yes!” Riley yells. “He’s back! The Straight-Edge Sensation is back, Comet!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘TWO!’

 

Toxxic stands in the centre of the ring, head down, arms by his sides. As Kibagami starts to move on the mat the straight-edger appears to be drinking in the atmosphere, hostile or not.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The steel-grey eyes snap open, and they’re not dead anymore.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘THREE!’

 

And the right side of Toxxic’s mouth quirks upwards in the well-remembered trademark cocky grin, the grin that hasn’t been seen since Toxxic fell victim to the Demonstar Driver.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic knows he can take this match now.

 

‘FOU-’

 

Turning, the Straight-Edge Sensation starts raining right hands down onto Kibagami as the River Dragon struggles up to his feet. The continuous hammering blows drive Kibagami back onto the ropes, and before the former Clansman can mount an effective comeback Toxxic has Irish-whipped him towards the far cables. This time Kibagami doesn’t reverse the move and hits the ropes, then rebounds back... and Toxxic sidesteps him and snares him in a reverse headlock as he passes. The straight-edger holds Kibagami there for a second, then drops to one knee and drives the other into the back of the River Dragon’s neck. Before that movement has even fully finished the rookie pops back up again, then twists around and completes the Detoxx, by driving Kibagami’s jaw into the mat with a Diamond Cutter!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The crowd continues its chanting, but Toxxic is on a roll and won’t let anything distract him. He ducks through the ring ropes and stands on the apron, then takes hold of the top cable and raises three fingers above his head. The Illinois Heel Section sit up and take notice as Toxxic vaults up to the top rope...

 

‘MONDO!’

 

...to the top turnbuckle...

 

‘AKMBO!’

 

...MOONSAULT!

 

‘A-GO-GO!’

 

*WHAM!!*

 

“The Mondo Akimbo A-Go-Go moonsault!” Comet gasps. “Could that be enough to keep Kibagami down?”

 

Toxxic rolls backwards off Kibagami’s body, clutching his ribs. His breath is coming short from the impact, but the grin is still in place as he watches Hardcastle raise his arms for the first count...

 

‘ONE!’

 

Toxxic pushes himself back to his feet, eyes still fixed on Kibagami. He knows the River Dragon well enough by now to suspect that it will take far more than this to achieve victory, but it will be worth seeing how long this keeps his opponent down for...

 

‘TWO!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘THREE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami’s breathing is laboured, the 218lb impact having jolted the air from his lungs.

 

‘FOUR!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

And Kibagami starts to stir. The River Dragon rolls onto his side, plants one hand on the mat, and begins to push.

 

‘FIVE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic’s eyes narrow as the volume of the chants increase, but Nathaniel is back up to one knee now, and although still breathing slightly heavily he is fully ready to continue. Toxxic slips out through the ropes again...

 

‘SI-’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami is up once more; the impact to the solar plexus, although hard, has not continued the headwork that Toxxic had been setting in motion and trying to take Nathaniel apart piecemeal is a venture doomed to failure. Kibagami slips into a fighting stance and turns, searching for his elusive opponent, but doesn’t see until too late the shape that springboards off the top rope at him, wrapping its legs around his head for the hurricanrana. Toxxic leans back, seeking to bring the Slaughterer over and send him skidding across the ring on that weak neck...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

...but Silent manages to halt the Straight-Edge Sensation’s momentum. And he reaches down and hooks both arms behind Toxxic’s back.

 

“Demonstar!” Comet cries in exultation. “He’s got it hooked!”

 

Toxxic has tasted this before however, arising from a similar situation, and this time he has a plan. Instead of vainly continuing his attempt to bring the River Dragon over, Toxxic simply kicks out with his legs and falls backwards, seeking to flip out of the move - but with almost inhuman strength Nathaniel blocks it! The River Dragon’s face turns a bright red, but he locks his arms and wrenches Toxxic’s body back up before the straight-edger’s feet can touch the ground, looking to reposition his opponent in the sheer-drop situation for the Demonstar...

 

...but when Toxxic’s feet come back up, they are no longer a head’s width apart but clenched together. And they smash straight into Kibagami’s face.

 

*CRACK!!*

 

The crowd emits a gasp as the River Dragon staggers backwards from the force of the blow... but amazingly doesn’t let go. Desperately, Toxxic lashes out once more-

 

*CRACK!!*

 

-and this time Kibagami is forced to release his hold, raising both hands to his face as the force of the kick flips Toxxic backwards and the rookie lands lightly on his feet. Kibagami is still reeling, the brief shot the camera gets of his face beneath the hands indicating what looks like a broken nose... and Toxxic attacks.

 

BITCHSLAP!

 

 

BITCHSLAP!

 

 

Pelvic Thrust!?

 

 

DISCUS CLOTHESLINE!!

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

 

“COCKTAIL O’ SHAME, ON THE ROCKS!” Bobby Riley yells in disbelieving delight as both men hit the canvas. “You show him, Toxxic!”

 

“Why, Robert, why!?” Comet splutters. “Why would Toxxic use Edwin’s move!?”

 

“Two reasons,” Riley informs his partner. “One; because everyone knows the history between Silent and Edwin, and Toxxic knows that this will get in Kibagami’s head.”

 

“...and the other reason?” Comet prompts.

 

“Because he can.”

 

Toxxic pushes himself back up as the jeers of the Illinois faithful ring down around his ears. His right arm hurts a bit from where it met the wall-like chest of Kibagami but the River Dragon is still on his back on the mat, a thin trickle of blood emerging from his right nostril. Grinning, the Straight-Edge Sensation scrambles over to the nearest turnbuckle and twirls his fingers over his head in the universal symbol for ‘High Risk’.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Toxxic’s heading for the top rope again, and he’s probably looking for the Hangover!” Riley says, presumably informing the viewers who aren’t paying attention. “You have to admit Comet, now that Toxxic has started picking the pace up and wrestling the match his way things are looking far better for him!”

 

“I’ll admit that Citizen Toxxic has the upper hand for the moment,” Comet concedes, “but you shouldn’t count Kibagami out yet!”

 

‘ONE!’

 

Sexton Hardcastle is doing just that however, as Toxxic starts to climb to the top rope. The sold-out crowd refuses to give up hope, and continues supporting the River Dragon...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘TW-’

 

Whoops.

 

Toxxic looks up as Hardcastle’s count cuts off just as he balances on the top buckle. To his horror the rookie sees Nathaniel Kibagami on his feet, staring up at him, more or less unfazed by the clothesline... but even as their eyes meet, Kibagami dashes sideways and hits the ropes-

 

“OOOOHHHH!”

 

-crotching Toxxic on the top buckle!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The Slaughterer stalks towards Toxxic as the rookie’s eyes bulge, desperately trying to prevent himself from toppling sideways after his unexpected testicular trauma. Kibagami studies him for a second, like a man examining a rare but unpleasant insect... then he reaches up with his right hand and-

 

BITCHSLAP...

 

 

BITCHSLAP...

 

 

...Kibagami doesn’t bother with the pelvic thrusts, but instead places both hands on the top rope and springboards up off the second, his powerful legs augmenting the boost from the cable and allowing him to rise up...

 

...Up...

 

...UP...

 

[“What elevation!” Comet cries]

 

*KERR-ACCKK!!*

 

...and deliver the MOTHER of all springboard gamengiri’s to the side of Toxxic’s head! Kibagami falls back and lands on his chest, but the force of the blow sends Toxxic toppling from his precarious perch, down to the mats on the arena floor!

 

“RAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Riley screams at the figure of Nathaniel Kibagami in the ring. “Are you trying to kill him?”

 

“Robert, don’t ask questions to which you may not wish to know the answer...” Comet advises his broadcast partner.

 

‘ONE!’

 

“Why are you counting, Hardcastle!?” Riley demands of the referee as he incurs the colour commentator’s ire in his turn. “Can’t you see the man is hurt!?”

 

“Someday Robert, I may get around to explaining the concept of a Last Man Standing match to you,” Comet informs his colleague as a second viewpoint comes up on the screen, pushing the main picture to one side. “Until then, let’s check the replays to see exactly how Toxxic landed...”

 

 

SWF REPLAY!

 

The camera from out on the ring floor shows the events in slow motion - Kibagami springs slowly upwards, swinging his right foot around in the arc that will inevitably connect with Toxxic’s temple. The impact knocks the straight-edger’s head sideways, giving his body the appearance of a rag doll, and Toxxic starts to fall. Kibagami has landed on the mat before Toxxic has even fully fallen off the turnbuckle, but the rookie plummets down...

 

*WHAM!!*

 

...and lands, fortunately for him, more or less back-first on the protective mats no more than five feet away from the obviously startled cameraman.

 

SWF REPLAY!

 

The replay frame pulls back and the main picture shows Toxxic virtually motionless on the floor with Jet beside him, anxiously patting his face and talking urgently to him. In the ring Nathaniel Kibagami finishes standing up...

 

‘THREE!’ Hardcastle bellows, having gone past ‘two’ whilst the replay was going on.

 

...and Kibagami stretches his arms out, making his crucifix pose to the fans.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Well Robert, with that one move Citizen Kibagami may have won the match,” Comet declares. “Toxxic is a persistent man, Zeus knows, but a fall of that nature may well have made Sexton Hardcastle’s count academic.”

 

‘FOUR!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“That’s all you know,” Riley protests, but an edge of worry is still present in his voice. “Toxxic is going to get back up from this and kick Kibagami’s backside all over Illinois!”

 

‘FIVE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Then I suggest he start doing it soon,” Comet tells his partner.

 

‘SIX!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The chant of that one name fills the arena, echoing back from the roof and being picked up by the ring mics, blasting out into millions of homes across the globe.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘SEVEN!’

 

Kibagami stares out at the crowd, his crowd. He was the World Champion recently and they loved him then, but now it is clear to him that the respect was not simply because he was recognised as the greatest wrestler in the SWF - it was because of who he is.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

He is Nathaniel Kibagami. He is the River Dragon. And whenever he steps into the ring he is home, in a way that most wrestlers can never be.

 

‘EI-’

 

Kibagami’s head snaps around. Sure enough, out on the arena floor, Toxxic has staggered to his feet. Hardcastle motions at Jet to move away, to make sure that the straight-edger is standing unaided... and he is. Head tilted to one side, breathing hard, Toxxic stares up at his opponent. In a motion that makes him stagger half a step forwards and to the right, Toxxic jabs his right hand up with the first two fingers extended in the classic British ‘V’ sign - and Kibagami has seen enough. The River Dragon ducks under the top rope and drops out to the floor, making straight for the unrepentant rookie. Toxxic shakily turns to face him and Kibagami draws back his right arm across his body, ready to unleash a knife-edge chop as he moves in...

 

*CRACK!!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

...and succeeds, the blow staggering Toxxic back a couple of steps! Encouraged, Kibagami follows up, winding up for another one...

 

*CRACK!!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

...and hits that one too! Toxxic stumbles onto the guard rail, and as the Illinois fans yell in approval Kibagami chops the Brit once-

 

*CRACK!!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

-then continues his spin to hit another!

 

*CRACK!!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

Kibagami hauls his opponent up, threads his arm behind Toxxic’s neck and hooks their legs together. A Russian leg sweep onto the guard rail would be good, but Kibagami’s own neck would be unlikely to take the impact without protesting, so the River Dragon adjusts his stance slightly-

 

*WHAM!!*

 

-and drops Toxxic backfirst onto the mats instead!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘ONE!’ Hardcastle yells from the ring as Kibagami pushes himself up again.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘TWO!’

 

“Well Robert, the Slaughterer is in complete control here,” Comet announces. “If I were a betting superhero, which I’m not, I’d put my money on Nathaniel Kibagami.”

 

“If I was a malicious and vindictive colour commentator,” Riley replies, “I’d put money on Nathaniel Kibagami’s head.”

 

‘THREE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“But you’re not?” Comet hopefully asks his partner.

 

“Don’t ask questions to which you may not want to know the answer...” Riley mutters darkly.

 

‘FOUR!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘FIVE!’

 

Kibagami looks about him. Hovering behind the ringpost at the other side of the squared circle is Jet, and the River Dragon makes a mental note to keep an eye on her. Toxxic may have this thing about doing stuff himself, but it is no-DQ after all, she may decide to take matters into her own hands and she certainly showed no hesitation in going for him the night Zenon suspended him, even if he did brush her off easily...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘SIX!’

 

Another movement catches Kibagami’s eye - and he looks back to see that Toxxic is struggling up. The rookie is on one knee, but he places one black-nailed hand on it and uses the boost to push himself upright...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘SEVE-’

 

*CRACK!!*

 

...and before he can even find his feet, Kibagami fires a snap kick into the rookie’s ribs and drops him back down to that knee again!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The River Dragon grabs the edge of the nearest protective mat and starts to peel it back while Toxxic struggles for breath beside him. The cold concrete of the arena floor is exposed, and Kibagami reaches inside his boot. Now, he knows he brought it with him...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The River Dragon pulls a cylindrical white object out, roughly the length of his hand. He bends down, takes the lid off the marker... and makes a black ‘X’ on the concrete.

 

“RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“NO!” Riley screams as the implications of Nathaniel’s actions become apparent. “Comet, you’ve got those damn superpowers - surely you know this is wrong, surely you can do something!?”

 

“Robert, even if I could... I’m not sure I’d want to,” Comet tells him. “I think we’re about to see JUSTICE IN ACTION~!”

 

Kibagami throws the marker away and grabs Toxxic by the hair, hauling the straight-edger into position - but Toxxic’s dazed eyes focus on the ‘X’ and recognise it for what it is. With only moments until his spine is compressed by a Demonstar on concrete, Toxxic reacts in the only possible way, dropping to his knees in front of his opponent and...

 

*CHING!!*

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The Illinois crowd don’t seem to be any more fond of lowblows than they are of thumbs in the eye, but at the moment Toxxic couldn’t care less. Kibagami bends double, and as he does so Toxxic staggers up again, grabs his head and-

 

*CRUNCH!!*

 

-slams it facefirst into his knee before-

 

*WHAM!!*

 

-delivering the DDT that finishes the Sobering Thought, with Nathaniel’s head bouncing off the concrete!

 

“IRONY IN ACTION~!” Riley yells jubilantly, leaping to his feet. “Comet, the nefarious villain was hoisted with his own petard!”

 

“I’ll hoist your petard if you don’t sit down,” Cyclone Comet mutters, uncomfortably aware that with Riley using long words and archaic phrases it’s now his job to carry the double-entendres.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami rolls onto his back, blood running down his forehead from where the impact on the concrete busted him open and serving as a gruesome counterpoint to the blood that has already come from his nose. Toxxic can’t seem to summon the effort to rise either, and Sexton Hardcastle dutifully begins his count.

 

‘ONE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘TWO!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘THREE!’

 

Toxxic takes a deep breath and starts to push himself up, grabbing the ring apron to help him. There’s no point escaping spinal damage if you’re going to just lie there...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘FOUR!’

 

Toxxic makes his feet, takes hold of the bottom rope to steady himself and looks around. Nathaniel Kibagami is still on the floor and-

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

-starting to get up.

 

‘FIVE!’

 

The camera giving the TV audience a close-up of the rookie’s face clearly depicts Toxxic saying “Shit” before he turns and staggers away towards the announcer’s desks.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘SIX!’

 

Hardcastle’s count continues, but Kibagami is nearly up now. The veteran wastes a second wiping his forehead and frowning at his bloody fingers in some confusion, then plants his right foot firmly and pushes, rising up once more like some denizen of the depths to terrify sailors.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘SEVE-’

 

With his own blood starting to trickle down his cheeks the River Dragon turns-

 

*KERR-ACK!!*

 

-into not one but two chairs, held one in each hand and swung by Toxxic to impact simultaneously on Kibagami’s temples! Toxxic yells out “You know when you’ve been Tango’d!” as Nathaniel staggers backwards, head ringing... but the veteran ends up backed up against the ring, and doesn’t quite fall. Toxxic slides both of his weapons in under the bottom rope, then grabs Kibagami and shoves him in after them. The River Dragon rolls into the ring and stops, nearly a deadweight, but as Toxxic scoots in after him he knows that the Slaughterer won’t stay down for the ten-count - yet. So the Straight-Edge Sensation ignores Hardcastle’s protests and starts to hoist Kibagami up.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

After a few seconds the River Dragon is upright, and Toxxic twists his right arm between the first and second ropes in a kind of bizarre, sadistic cat’s cradle. With one appendage trap

[the.weej 0]

The impact of the In-Flight Meal snaps the River Dragon’s head back, unsupported as it is, and nearly jars him loose from his trap. The legs that had been half-supporting his weight crumple and Kibagami drops down until, with his hands still trapped above his head and the now-increased blood flow from his forehead, he looks like a prisoner in a strange set of manacles, on show in a public dungeon. Sexton Hardcastle instinctively rescues the River Dragon from his predicament, untwisting the ropes until Kibagami slumps down to the canvas - then remembers the stipulation that’s involved, and begins counting.

 

‘ONE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘TWO!’

 

“The question is now, how much does either man have left?” Comet asks a trifle shakily. “It’s true that Kibagami is in a bad way, but what energy did Toxxic have to expend to launch that devastating attack?”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘THREE!’

 

“However much it took, it’s been worthwhile,” Riley answers with satisfaction. “This match is OVER Comet. FINISHED.”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘FOUR!’

 

Toxxic starts to push himself up again. It’s been a long, long time since he’s felt this rough during a match - oh, when he regained consciousness after he’d taken the Demonstar Driver he felt bad alright; and the Gravedigger through the table at Battleground; and he wasn’t exactly in good shape for ladder the match with Janus either, but then again the blame for that can be laid at Kibagami’s door - in fact, you’d probably have to go back to the 200 Lightube match with Aecas at From The Fire to find the last time he felt this beat-up.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘FIVE!’

 

Shakily, Toxxic grabs a nearby ringrope and regains his feet. Kibagami hasn’t moved yet. For a moment the straight-edger wonders if he might have managed to knock the River Dragon unconscious. Probably too good to be true, but-

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘SIX!’

 

-Kibagami is moving.

 

Slowly, with each spurt of action looking uncoordinated and as if it is causing great pain to its originator, Nathaniel’s arms begin to feel their way out at his sides. They brace, they push...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘SEVEN!’

 

...they tremble, and the efforts ceases. Toxxic breathes again, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

And the arms tense again.

 

‘EIGHT!’

 

And this time, they start to push. The torso starts to rise. One knee comes forward to take the weight, then the other foot is drawn up in preparation of standing. The camera feed cuts to a frontal shot - Kibagami’s long black hair is escaping the ponytail and hanging over his face, but a couple of drops of blood can be seen falling to the canvas.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘NIIIIIIIIIIINE...’

 

Toxxic watches with his heart in his mouth. For a moment he still has hope, but then the awful reality starts to sink in.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami is going to beat the count.

 

‘TEEEE-’

 

Kibagami is up.

 

*CRACK!!*

 

Not for long.

 

“Merciful Zeus, what more do you want!?” Comet yells as Toxxic grabs a chair and waffles Kibagami over the back with it.

 

“He wants him to not stand up,” Riley replies simply. “That’s all Kibagami has to do. Just stay down.”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

But it is far, far easier for Bobby Riley to say that than it is for Kibagami to do it. Virtually every piece of offence Toxxic has thrown at him has targeted the head, and Nathaniel is not thinking clearly. It is pure instinct and ring knowledge that keeps him aware of where he is and what the situation is. Kibagami isn’t thinking about winning at the moment, but he knows that unless he keeps getting up he is going to lose.

 

‘ONE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

And he can’t let that happen.

 

‘TWO!’

 

Toxxic looks down at Kibagami, and he knows that the River Dragon will get up again. It slowly starts to dawn on the Straight-Edge Sensation exactly what he has got himself into here.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘THREE!’

 

But Toxxic is just as stubborn as Kibagami, and is filled with a potent mixture of anger at his opponent, a burning desire to prove himself and a gut-wrenching fear of being shown up. So in a confrontation where the enemy has weathered all he has thrown at him so far, Toxxic knows it’s time to raise the stakes.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

He kicks the standing chair out of the way and drops the folded one behind him in the dead centre of the ring.

 

‘FOUR!’

 

Kibagami is starting to rise again, and Toxxic crouches slightly.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘FIVE!’

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation raises his right hand as if holding something, appears to pull a ring-pull with his left, then raises the imaginary can and takes a swig.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Caffeine Bomb!” Comet gasps. “Toxxic just signalled for the Caffeine Bomb, the move that beat Kibagami in their first meeting!”

 

‘SI-’

 

Nathaniel Kibagami is on his feet, albeit not by much. He wobbles around to face Toxxic, and the straight-edger doubles him over with a quick kick to the stomach before slapping on a front facelock. Determinedly, Toxxic takes a couple of steps backwards, pulling Kibagami after him until they are standing one of each side of the steel chair. He leans down, hooks Kibagami’s right leg from the inside and lifts...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

...but just as in the first match, Kibagami is just a little too heavy for the Brit to get up. Eyes bulging, Toxxic tries again... but he simply doesn’t have the physical strength to do it, especially after such a gruelling match. And as he stands there panting, Kibagami makes his move.

 

*CHING!!*

 

“RRRRAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Is that any way for a so-called Emissary of Justice to behave!?” Riley yells at Comet as Toxxic’s knees buckle. “You’ve hired a thug, pure and simple!”

 

“Robert, I don’t hire anyone,” Comet retorts. “People are drawn to the cause through their own hearts!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami stands woozily in the middle of the ring, trying to sort his brain out. The reaction was instinctive, but he seems to be drawing a blank on what to do next. Then he looks up and sees the rage mixed with pain in Toxxic’s eyes, and comprehension dawns. Ah yes...

 

...but the few seconds’ gap gave Toxxic just enough time to partially master his own intense pain, and the straight-edger swings a wild a right hand. Kibagami manages to duck the blow, the momentum carries the unbalanced rookie around in a half-circle-

 

-and Kibagami grabs him, tucks his head under Toxxic arm and hoists his opponent into the air.

 

“Rough Redemption!” Comet bellows. “This is it!”

 

As Toxxic reaches the apex of his trajectory more of Kibagami’s instincts kick in, his muscles moving through long-remembered patterns to twist the rookie around and send him spinning down backfirst as Kibagami falls forwards. His head goes pointing away from Kibagami’s body, the legs swing around...

 

...and the legs abruptly lock around the River Dragon’s neck, and Toxxic jacknifes his body to bring Kibagami over in a hurricanrana!

 

*BANG!!*

 

“Yes!!” Riley yells in delight. “What a counter! Comet, no matter what you throw at Toxxic this man will always come out on top!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The chant rises again in the Mark of the Quad Cities Centre, but Kibagami does not rise so fast. The impact was not as bad as it could have been - on the back of the neck and the shoulders rather than the top of the head - but it’s more than enough to be going on with.

 

‘ONE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Both men are down, but both are stirring. Toxxic is recovering from the ballshot and has taken less punishment than his larger opponent, but every moment Kibagami has where he is not being hit in the head gives the River Dragon a chance to regroup.

 

‘TWO!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Illinois hasn’t got tired of chanting yet, and as long as they chant Nathaniel Kibagami seems to have the strength to keep getting up. The River Dragon pushes on the canvas and pulls at the ringropes that he has ended up next to, trying to rise back to his feet. Behind him and out of sight, Toxxic is doing the same in the middle of the ring.

 

‘THREE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Each man gets to one knee. The first one to get all the way up will have an undeniable advantage, but it’s just a case of who gets there first.

 

‘FO-’

 

Hardcastle stops his count as both men reach a vertical base and turn, looking for their opponent. Kibagami lunges forward...

 

...and Toxxic bends slightly at the knees before taking the onrushing River Dragon up onto his shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry!

 

“No...” Comet breathes.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The weight almost causes Toxxic’s knees to buckle, but the straight-edger manages to remain upright. Then he turns and takes one step towards the chair that waits in the centre of the ring. Another step.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The crowd are chanting for all they’re worth, but at the moment Kibagami can do nothing and Toxxic isn’t listening. He reaches up and hooks Kibagami’s right leg while his right arm takes a firm grip around the Slaughterer’s head.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic is going to teach Nathaniel Kibagami the lesson that Edwin MacPhisto should have taught him a long time ago.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

You don’t fuck with a Brit.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation takes a deep breath, holds it... then bucks his knees slightly and whirls his shoulders, literally throwing Kibagami off and sitting out, bringing him down...

...

...

...Down...

...

...

...DOWN...

...

...

 

*BAM!!*

 

...onto the steel chair.

 

And the crowd, appropriately enough, fall Silent.

 

‘ONE!’

 

Toxxic slumps backwards from his sitting position, apparently totally exhausted by his last move. The two men lay on the canvas, each facing up as if caught making snow angels; only the blood flowing from the wound in Kibagami’s forehead gives the lie to the serene situation.

 

‘TWO!’

 

“Citizens, I think it’s just a matter of time now,” Comet says soberly, “and that time is as long as it’s going to take referee Hardcastle to reach ‘Ten’. I cannot see Nathaniel Kibagami getting up after the Caffeine Bomb onto a steel chair; not after he’s taken so much punishment.”

 

‘THREE!’

 

“Comet, I was never in any doubt,” Riley claims, lying through his teeth. “The Straight-Edge Sensation has slain the River Dragon, and maybe now he can take his rightful place in the main event!”

 

‘FOUR!’

 

Toxxic rolls over onto his side and begins to push himself up. His work here is done; all he needs to do is get to his feet and surely, surely he will have beaten Kibagami.

 

‘FIVE!’

 

The crowd are hushed inside the Mark of the Quad Cities Centre. There is a faint buzz of words exchanged, but no-one seems to want to break the quiet. There isn’t even a ‘Toxxic sucks!’ chant as the straight-edger reaches a vertical base, and Toxxic grins. He’s managed to silence them.

 

‘SIX!’

 

Sexton Hardcastle bellows out another number and looks down with regret at the form of Nathaniel Kibagami. The blood from the wound on his forehead has spread over his face and has left spatters over the ring floor.

 

And as Hardcastle looks down, Kibagami’s eyes flutter open. The River Dragon blinks, seemingly unaware of his surroundings - then conviction returns to his expression.

 

‘SEVEN!’

 

Slowly, oh so slowly, Kibagami starts to sit up. He supports himself with his arms, forcing himself up. The crowd start to buzz a little louder, but no-one seems to want to start chanting again in case they distract the River Dragon from an activity that is evidently consuming all his energy.

 

Across the ring, Toxxic’s face has gone white.

 

‘EIGHT!’

 

Kibagami is sitting up. Quite how, he’s not sure - but deep in the back of his brain is the notion that he should make Toxxic work harder than this for a victory over him. He is Nathaniel Kibagami. He is the River Dragon. And he is not staying down.

 

“Comet... how is he doing this?” Riley whispers like a man in a vestry. “I thought he’d given up the painkillers! You said he was clean!”

 

“Robert, as far as I know he is,” Comet confirms. “Citizen Kibagami is simply a living, breathing example of how far Justice can inspire one man.”

 

‘NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE...’

 

Even as the syllable leaves Hardcastle’s mouth, Kibagami is pushing himself up. The Illinois crowd are starting to cheer - there are no words, simply uncomplicated emotion and approval made audible. The fans watch Kibagami struggle upwards, willing him to beat the count-

 

-and before he can, Toxxic barrels into the back of the River Dragon and drops him with a forearm shot to the back of the head, stopping the count but putting Kibagami back down again.

 

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Toxxic may have miscalculated!” Comet cries in surprise. “Citizen Kibagami might not have made it up before the ten-count, but in his desire to retain the psychological upper hand Toxxic felt he had to knock him down. The question now is; with the Caffeine Bomb having failed and the Toxxic Shock Syndrome too easily open to counters, what has the rookie got left?”

 

“I don’t know,” Riley replies through the remnants of his fingernails. “I honestly don’t know...”

 

The same question seems to have occurred to Toxxic. The British cruiserweight stands looking down at the prostrate Kibagami, apparently wondering what else he can do to the man. A couple of seconds pass... and in the Mark of the Quad Cities Centre a now-familiar chant starts to rise again.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic’s head snaps up, and the grey eyes focus on the Illinois crowd.

 

‘ONE!’

 

Toxxic reaches down and rolls Kibagami over onto his back, then heads for the nearest turnbuckle. Once more he twirls his fingers over his head to signify that he’s going High Risk, and the Straight-Edge Sensation starts to ascend.

 

“Is this wise?” Comet asks. “The last time Toxxic went for the Hangover he ended up in a decidedly compromising situation - surely he’d be better off on the ground?”

 

“Sometimes you have to take risks to win,” Riley states simply. “One more good move could finish Kibagami off!”

 

‘TWO!’

 

Hardcastle continues to count even though he knows what Toxxic’s intentions are. Kibagami still hasn’t moved.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘THREE!’

 

Toxxic reaches the top rope, facing into the ring. He cracks his neck from side-to-side, then raises his arms above his head prior to snapping them forward to give him more momentum on the rotation.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

There are only two moves in the SWF that have led to a pinfall on Toxxic. One of them is the Demonstar Driver. The other...

 

...Toxxic dives off the top rope, somersaulting forwards through the air. Instead of landing a leg across Kibagami’s throat with the Hangover however, he continues the rotation through 450 degrees, coming down HARD-

 

*WHAM!!*

 

-on Kibagami’s knees!?

 

“RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Unbelievable!” Comet yells as the Mark of the Quad Cities Centre ERUPTS! “Toxxic went for Alan Clark’s ‘Encore’ splash, but Kibagami got his knees up!”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Toxxic rolls away across the canvas, clutching his ribs, face screwed up in agony... and Kibagami turns over onto his front.

 

‘ONE!’

 

The arms brace against the canvas, and begin to push.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The muscles under the flame tattoos bulge, and the River Dragon slowly forces his body upwards.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘TWO!’

 

Sexton Hardcastle looks on in amazement as the Slaughterer begins his inexorable rise. Kibagami is on his knees now.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘THREE!’

 

One knee. Nathaniel shakes his head to disperse the fog, and small droplets of blood fly off to either side.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

He raises his right hand and wipes the sticky red fluid away from his eyes, then looks up and across the ring to where Toxxic is struggling to his feet in the corner.

 

‘FOUR!’

 

The River Dragon’s eyes narrow, and with a last surge he rises to his feet. Hardcastle stands back in awe, looks around at Toxxic and sees that the straight-edger is up too, seemingly slumped over the far turnbuckle and facing out from the ring.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami knows that he needs to close the distance, and there’s no reason why he can’t make an impact at the same time. The River Dragon starts to run, apparently seeking to crush the Straight-Edge Sensation with an avalanche in the corner.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami approaches the motionless Toxxic... but as he does so Jet yells a warning from ringside, and as Nathaniel launches himself into the air for the avalanche Toxxic suddenly moves to one side-

 

*WHAM!!*

 

-and Kibagami crashes chest-first into the exposed top turnbuckle as the pad that Toxxic had been secretly loosening falls out to the arena floor!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami staggers backwards, hands clutching at the burning pain in his solar plexus. He feels a hand grab him from behind and spin him around on the spot, and then Toxxic lashes out with a right hand and staggers the veteran back into the corner.

 

“Toxxic is great!” Riley orgasms. “You simply can not get one over on this guy!”

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation grabs Kibagami’s right wrist and hauls, seeking to send the River Dragon into the far turnbuckles, but the impetus is weak and it is no trouble to reverse the move for even a dazed Kibagami. This is exactly what Toxxic wanted though, and the straight-edger...

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

...is brought up short as Kibagami clamps his massive hand over Toxxic’s wrist, stopping him from going on to hit the Role Reversal again! Shocked, Toxxic turns back to his opponent-

 

*WHAM!!*

 

-and gets FLATTENED by a short-arm Burning Lariat!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“You were saying?” Comet snipes at Riley, who has adopted an expression halfway between nervous and sulky.

 

The wind has been knocked out of Toxxic once more, and as the straight-edger gasps for air on the canvas Kibagami stands tall above him. Wincing, the River Dragon reaches out his arms in his crucifix pose, feeling the muscles complain and his neck burn. But the fans continue to chant.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

‘ONE!’

 

Hardcastle starts to count, but Kibagami isn’t done and he reaches down and grabs Toxxic by the throat. Toxxic struggles, but he can do nothing to prevent himself from being dragged upright by his larger opponent.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami lashes out, burying his right boot in Toxxic’s gut. The straight-edger doubles over and Kibagami hauls him into a vertical headscissors, but doesn’t go for the double underhook. For all its match-ending capabilities, the Demonstar is too open to counters from the Straight-Edge Sensation, and Kibagami can’t afford the risk of losing control of the match again. Instead the Slaughterer reaches down and clasps his hands around Toxxic’s midsection, then wrenches upwards.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Nathaniel balances Toxxic over his back, supporting the straight-edger with one hand under each arm. The crowd in the Mark of the Quad Cities Centre rise to their feet - they know what’s coming. And Toxxic, staring up at the lights above him, knows what’s coming too. But for once in his career, he can do nothing about it.

 

And Kibagami drops his opponent down...

 

*WHAM!!*

 

“Fall From Grace!” Comet shouts as the back of Toxxic’s neck impacts on the mat. “Kibagami finally hits the Fall From Grace on Toxxic! It’s over! It’s over!”

 

‘ONE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

“Kibagami has won!” the masked superhero continues joyfully. “After one of the most gruelling encounters I have ever seen Nathaniel Kibagami has finally put Toxxic away once and for all!”

 

‘TWO!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Kibagami starts to rise, looking down at his opponent’s broken body. If the River Dragon was inclined to think charitably about his opponent he would admit that Toxxic had fought well, that he’d pushed Nathaniel to his very limit. That, ultimately, he had made a tremendous impression for someone in only his fourth month with the federation.

 

‘THREE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

But Kibagami isn’t feeling particularly charitable this evening. It may be something to do with the killing pain in his neck, or the possibly-broken nose, or the caking blood that is slowly drying on his forehead and down his cheeks.

 

‘FOUR!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The chairshots probably didn’t help his mood any either.

 

‘FIVE!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

So Nathaniel turns away from Toxxic and looks out at the Illinois crowd seeing the people rise in response to his gaze as they did at the start of the match. Kibagami knows that he’s won a great victory here.

 

‘SIX!’

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Now that he has finally beaten Toxxic for good he can move on to where he should be - back into the main event, to challenge whoever is the World Champion after the night is done. Danny Williams or Janus, he doesn’t mind - he is more than ready to face either man. He is aware that either Dace Night or Tom Flesher will be in front of him in the queue as well, and that doesn’t bother him either. Nathaniel knows that he will return.

 

“SIIIIIIIII...”

 

The chant trails off, and Kibagami twists around to look behind him, feeling the twinge in his neck as he does so.

 

‘SEVEN!’

 

Toxxic is moving. Not fast, but he is moving. And deep down in his gut, Kibagami feels a twinge that echoes the one in his neck.

 

Toxxic shouldn’t be moving after that.

 

But even as he watches Toxxic starts to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows before starting to shuffle his legs around. And Kibagami wonders what exactly he has to do to keep this man down.

 

‘EIGHT!’

 

The crowd are quiet again as they watch Toxxic’s attempts to rise. The straight-edger’s breath is coming fast, his eyes are slightly unfocused... but he still keeps moving, getting his legs underneath him to support his weight. Sexton Hardcastle’s eyes are wide as he looks on, but Toxxic keeps going and begins to push. He’s up to one knee now.

 

‘NIIIIIIIIIINE...’

 

The Illinois crowd holds its collective breath, willing Toxxic to fail, to give up, to slump back down at the last second and admit that this task is beyond him; to admit defeat. As the straight-edger rises up onto two legs and wobbles, it looks for a moment as if they will get their wish.

 

‘TE-’

 

And then Toxxic straightens, and looks over at Nathaniel Kibagami. The River Dragon’s shock is visible only for a second before his expression clears, but it was there. Of all the things that could have happened tonight, Kibagami was not expecting this one.

 

“How...?” Riley whispers, and for once Cyclone Comet has no reply.

 

With a suddenness that makes the entire arena jump, Kibagami lunges forwards off the ropes. His right arm reaches out, looking for the Burning Lariat again... but Toxxic ducks it! The River Dragon hits the far ropes and rebounds, ricocheting towards his opponent who turns woozily on the spot-

 

*WHAM!!*

 

-and gets WAFFLED in the face with a Yakuza Kick!

 

“RRRRRAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!”

 

‘ONE!’

 

Kibagami comes to an unsteady stop, pulling up on the right leg that delivered the blow as he lands on it slightly awkwardly. Toxxic is on his back on the canvas once more, but doubts now assail the River Dragon. Did he get all of it, or was it just a glancing blow? Did Toxxic get his hands up to block, or did the straight-edger maybe fall backwards early and roll with it, lessening some of the impact? Where once there was only certainty, there is now uncertainty; where once there was invincibility, there is now vincibility. And as he examines himself, Kibagami knows that this must be expunged from his body. To do this he must defeat Toxxic, and to do that...

 

‘TWO!’

 

“Kibagami is heading for the ropes!” Comet calls. “After taking the Fall From Grace and the Yakuza Kick Toxxic must be on his last legs, if indeed he can stand at all! The Year of the Dragon, the move that Kibagami used to win the World Title - if he hits this then I would stake my mask on it being the finishing blow!”

 

‘THREE!’

 

Kibagami starts to climb, facing out from the ring and towards his fans. The River Dragon is not comfortable off the ground, and he is exhausted to boot. What would normally take a couple of seconds now seems to drag out as he forces his legs to obey. This is not the same man who sprang so effortlessly upwards to kick Toxxic in the head and send him tumbling to the arena floor like a boned fish.

 

‘FO-’

 

And it looks like his suspicions about that Yakuza Kick may have been borne out.

 

Kibagami hears Hardcastle’s count cease, and he knows what is coming. He braces himself as best he can, perched on the second rope and facing away from his opponent... and sure enough, a forearm blow pummels him in the kidneys and drives the wind from his lungs. Nathaniel holds on to the ropes, preventing himself from falling backwards, but then another shot crashes home, then another. And a spiky-haired head inserts itself between his legs, and Nathaniel feels himself being lifted off the buckles.

 

“DANGERLUST!” Comet cries in dismay. “Toxxic’s got him in position!”

 

The straight-edger staggers backwards, trying desperately to keep his knees locked and Kibagami’s weight from overbalancing him. He tries to turn...

 

...and Kibagami locks his legs tight around Toxxic’s throat before falling sideways off the Brits shoulders, catching himself on the top rope and cinching in a modified Triangle Choke!

 

“RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!”

 

“NO!” Riley screams in horror.

 

”YES!” Comet yells back. “Citizens, I have rarely seen such a breathtaking display of countering, ingenuity and sheer determination to win than that displayed here tonight by these men!”

 

Toxxic tries to pull Kibagami backwards, seeking to dump the River Dragon down onto the canvas, but Kibagami hooks both arms around the top rope and continues to squeeze. He watches Toxxic’s forehead start to go purple as the blood and oxygen passageways are constricted, and the straight-edger drops to his knees.

 

Nathaniel starts to laugh.

 

Then Toxxic’s right hand, scrabbling around on the canvas for something, anything, that can help him out, comes into contact with something cold. Instinctively the straight-edger grabs it and pulls it close, and although his eyes can only stare straight ahead the fingers recognise it for what it is.

 

The steel chair that he kicked away, that has lain propped up against this set of ropes while he and Nathaniel have risen, fallen and watched each other in disbelief.

 

The Straight-Edge Sensation pulls it to him, and with an almighty effort he manages to stand again. Kibagami still has the choke locked in, seeking to disable Toxxic long enough to put him down for the ten-count, but with his last effort Toxxic raises the chair in the air, grips it in both hands and brings it down, aimed square at Kibagami’s head.

 

Nathaniel sees it coming of course, but his arms are locked under the top rope in order to prevent Toxxic from pulling him off. All he can do is shut his eyes.

 

*CRACK!!*

 

The iron grip around Toxxic’s neck relaxes and the straight-edger slumps backwards to the canvas, gulping in air. The chair skitters away under the bottom rope as he releases his hold on it but for the moment he is unconcerned, seeking only to replace his oxygen supplies. Meanwhile Kibagami falls, landing facefirst on the canvas.

 

‘ONE!’

 

Toxxic tries to push himself up, but his arms aren’t working yet.

 

‘TWO!’

 

He tries again, and this time he has some success. Speed is the key - he needs to deliver the final, telling blow to Kibagami before the River Dragon has time to recover.

 

‘THR-!’

 

Toxxic rises unsteadily to his feet and bends down to grab his opponent. For a moment the blood rushing to his head threatens to make him topple, but he fights it off and starts to haul Kibagami towards the middle of the ring.

 

“Comet, what have they got left?” Riley asks his broadcast partner in disbelief. “I’m exhausted just watching these guys!”

 

“I don’t know, Robert,” Comet replies. “Whoever wins tonight, you have to respect the sheer effort that both men have put in. At the moment it looks like Toxxic is going to triumph over Justice and win the day, but how often have we thought that one or other has struck the telling blow? We will just have to wait.”

 

Toxxic puts a front facelock on Kibagami and brings the River Dragon up. He doesn’t have the energy to signal for the move, but when he reaches down to hook Kibagami’s right leg behind the knee the entire Mark of the Quad Cities Centre knows what’s coming anyway. It’s time Nathaniel tasted a Caffeine Bomb again.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The chant starts up, shakier that before. Perhaps too late to save or inspire its target, if indeed he can still be reached. Toxxic ignores it. He knows what he needs to do. He lifts...

 

...he strains...

 

...

 

...

 

...he gives up, still unable to get Kibagami up for the move.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

And Nathaniel breaks his grip and shoves him away.

 

Toxxic staggers back as Kibagami straightens, a new fire visible in the eyes that stare from the blood-streaked face. Kibagami draws his right arm back across his chest, and-

 

*CRACK!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

 

*CRACK!*

 

“WHOOO!”

 

Toxxic staggers again as the knife-edge chops hammer into his chest, but the Brit doesn’t go down. Kibagami takes a step forward, measure his opponent and lashes out with a head-height left-footed roundhouse kick...

 

*WHUMP!*

 

...but Toxxic raises his right arm to block, then catches Kibagami’s leg by trapping it beneath his arm!

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

A glance passes between the two men. At this stage of the match it not only can still go either way... it will go one way or the other. This is the pivotal moment. For half a second that seems like an hour Toxxic and Kibagami stand facing each other; the old and the new, the big and the small... the victor and the defeated.

 

With the Death’s Head smile on his lips Nathaniel Kibagami leaps into the air, looking to score a telling blow with the gamengiri that has saved him so many times before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But Toxxic knows it’s coming.

 

*WHUMP!*

 

And he catches that leg too.

 

 

 

*WHAM!!*

 

Kibagami crashes to the canvas, his momentum killed. The back of his skull bounces off the ring on impact, and the force of his landing blasts the breath from his lungs. For a moment, all is still... then Toxxic adjusts his grip on the River Dragon’s legs, locking them just behind the knee, and pulls Kibagami’s body almost vertical, head downwards. He holds it there for a second before dropping backwards, catapulting the River Dragon up and forwards, through the air...

 

*WHAM!!*

 

...to collide headfirst with the top turnbuckle that has had its pad removed.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

Nathaniel staggers backwards, the wound on his forehead reopened and his head swimming.

 

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...”

 

The chants seem to come from a long way away now.

 

“SIIIIIIIII...”

 

He barely hears them stop, barely feels Toxxic place his shoulders underneath his knees and lift, barely registers the fact that his feet are no longer on the ground. Vaugely, Nathaniel Kibagami sees two black-nailed hands rising on either side of his head, and a faint pressure registers at the back of his neck - why does his neck hurt so much, anyway? - gradually bringing his head forwards and down...

 

...Down...

 

 

 

 

 

...DOWN...

 

 

 

 

 

*BAM!!*

 

 

Toxxic releases the useless pinning cradle on the Dangerlust and rolls sideways, allowing the lifeless body of Nathaniel Kibagami to slump.

 

 

‘ONE!’

 

 

At the commentary table, Cyclone Comet has his eyes closed.

 

 

‘TWO!’

 

 

The Mark of the Quad Cities Centre in Moline, Illinois, is virtually silent.

 

 

‘THREE!’

 

 

Toxxic gets to his feet and leans against a turnbuckle, although not the one that Nathaniel Kibagami’s head bounced off moments before.

 

 

‘FOUR!’

 

 

Bobby Riley opens his mouth to say something... then looks sideways at Comet, and hastily closes it again.

 

 

‘FIVE!’

 

 

Sexton Hardcastle knows that the faster he counts, the faster Kibagami can receive medical attention... but he still has a job to do, and he does it at the same speed as he’s been doing it all evening.

 

 

‘SIX!’

 

 

Funyon grabs a member of the tech crew and starts speaking slowly and softly, and the man relays instructions into his two-way radio.

 

 

‘SEVEN!’

 

 

Toxxic smiles slightly, although not at anything immediately obvious. The straight-edger has an oddly glassy look in his eyes, probably a result of the Fall From Grace.

 

 

‘EIGHT!’

 

 

A disturbance is visible behind the curtain leading to the backstage area at the top of the entrance ramp. In the ring, Kibagami hasn’t moved.

 

 

‘NIIIIIIIIIIINE...’

 

 

A wheeled stretcher comes out accompanied by EMTs. The most noticeable item on it is a neckbrace.

 

 

‘TEN!’

 

 

*DING-DING-DING!*

 

Wearily, Hardcastle signals for the bell and the EMTs clamber into the ring, dragging the stretcher in after them. One of them reaches Nathaniel and starts talking to him urgently, looking for a response.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon says without enthusiasm as ‘We Still Kill The Old Way’ by Lostprophets starts to play, “here is your winner - Toxxic.” The ring announcer doesn’t even bother to rise for his duty.

 

The fans are quiet, watching the drama unfolding in the ring. Toxxic himself seems oddly puzzled by it, watching the EMTs as if slightly curious why they are there. Then Jet climbs into the ring with him and squeezes his arm, peering into his eyes and talking to him. Toxxic responds, and the two start to move towards the entrance ramp. He seems a little uncoordinated and nearly wobbles into the guard rail at one point, but the fans simply move back and Jet steadies her boyfriend before helping to guide his steps.

 

“Citizens...” Comet begins, then stops. “I... well, I don’t know what to say. Toxxic has beaten Kibagami, and beaten him in such a way that... I would prefer to believe that the Fall From Grace knocked Toxxic silly; that his actions from there on were instinctive, not reasoned; that, essentially, he was not fully conscious of what he was doing to win this match.”

 

“Unfortunately, I cannot make myself believe that.”

 

The masked superhero pauses and wipes his eyes, then pinches the bridge of his nose and sits up straighter.

 

“Citizens, these things happen in wrestling, just as they do in real life. All we can do is hope and pray that Nathaniel Kibagami is not seriously hurt and that he can go on to continue to entertain us all by doing what he loves best. Up next we have the Masked Man in action in a Five Wounds Gauntlet, and to give you a flavour of what this may entail, here is a video package...”

 

The last image before the camera feed stops is of Toxxic at the top of the entrance ramp, staring back down at the ring with a glazed expression but a triumphant grin creasing the right-hand side of his face.

 

He did it. He was the Last Man Standing.

[the.weej 0]

The opening strains of Clint Mansell’s “Lux Aeterna” echo throughout the Mark of the Quad Cities center, as the thousands upon THOUSANDS of Moline, Illinois residents go INSANE!

 

“Welcome back, citizens,” Cyclone Comet greets, “to SWF 13th Hour! I tell you, Bobbo, it’s going to be hard to follow up that Last Man Standing match. What a marathon of blood, sweat, and blood that was!”

 

“There’s only one thing that could follow that match, Comet.”

 

“You mean the sixty minute ironman match for the SWF Triple Crown?”

 

“…no, a wet t-shirt contest between NTD and Mistress Sarah. But since that ain’t happening, it looks like we’re going to the Five Wounds Gauntlet match.”

 

“Ah, but of course! Citizens, coming up next, we are set to see what may be the most unique stipulation match…es ever devised. It’s called the Five Wounds Gauntlet, and Commissioner Zenon arranged it specifically for your friend and mine, The Masked Man.”

 

“See, it must be a reward,” Riley chimes in, “for almost pinning the Champion and making a FOOL out of him!”

 

“I’m not sure it’s a reward, Bobbo. The caliber of opponents Masked Man will be facing in this gauntlet is high. There’s the grizzled, hardcore veteran Insane Luchador, there’s the cocky rookie who can back it up Ace Lezaire, the monster of a man Aecas, former SJL superstar and returnee David Blazenwing, and…” Comet trails off, but Bobbo saves.

 

“AN ANTROMORPHIC FERRET! You haven’t seen it all until you’ve seen Ebony. Oh, baby. Let’s get on with this, and hope Ebony’s here.”

 

“Right. To Funyon we go!”

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” Funyon begins, “The following contest is the FIVE WOUNDS GAUNTLET MATCH! In a few minutes, The Masked Man will run a gauntlet against five other competitors. To win, either Masked Man or his five opponents must win three of the five matches. The first competition will be a SINGLES match with normal rules. Introducing the participants!”

 

The fans begin jeering instinctively, awaiting the arrival of The Masked Man. However, the anticipated sounds of “Misirlou” don’t hit the speakers. Oh no, it’s a much, much worse sound than that.

 

Everywhere you look!

Everywhere you go! (There’s a heart!)

There's a heart!

A hand to hold onto!

Everywhere you look!

Everywhere you go!

There's a face!

Of somebody who needs you!

Everywhere you look!

 

When you're lost out there and you're all alone,

A light is waiting to carry you home!

Everywhere you look!

Everywhere you look!

 

“That’s…” Riley begins, awestruck.

 

“That’s the Full House theme song, Bobbo!” Comet proclaims, “Masked Man was cryptically telling people earlier that he had a special entrance planned…but I never would’ve thought of THIS!”

 

Masked Man’s shadow appears in the entryway, but behind him are THREE silhouettes! TMM walks out into the open, and he’s followed by…

 

 

DANNY TANNER!

 

 

JOEY GLADSTONE!

 

 

AND JESSE KATSOPOLIS!

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” Funyon cries, “From Craiova, Romania, but currently residing in Orofino, Idaho, weighing in at 243 pounds and being accompanied by Bob Saget, Dave Coulier, and John Stamos, he is THE MAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSKED MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!”

 

The Sexual Maskosaurus gets his usual share of jeers, but there is an OBVIOUS nostalgic pop for the Full House gang…

 

…no, that’s nostalgic heat. These fans obviously didn’t enjoy the life’s lessons learned in the Tanner household.

 

Nevertheless, Dave, Bob, and John look ECSTATIC to be at SWF 13th Hour!

 

“Where the hell are the Olsen Twins?” Bobbo cries.

 

As Bob, Dave, and John take their honorary ringside seats in the front row, Masked Man jogs up the steps and slingshots into the ring. He looks straight above his head, where he sees his mystical, magical briefcase suspended 20 feet in the air.

 

“And his opponent…” Funyon begins, as the crowd buzzes in anticipation.

 

…and they get nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

Just kidding!

 

 

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

 

Seven bassline strikes ROCK the Mark of the Quad as Muse’s “Hyper Music” kicks into high gear! Pyro EXPLODES as the fans EXPLODE…into jeers as Ace Lezaire appears amidst the smoke, with his personal cameraman Steve at his side.

 

“…from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, weighing in at 230 pounds, he is Canada’s Self-Proclaimed GREATEST HOPE, AAAAAAAAAAAAACE LEEEEEZAAAAAAAAAAAAIREEEEE!!!!!!!”

 

As the abuse continues to rain down on Lezaire, Ace simply waves at his ‘legions of fans’ and mouths a ‘thank you’. With Steve catching his every move, Ace climbs up onto the apron facing the crowd, and throws up his thanks to God for his AMAZING wrestling ability.

 

Unfortunately, God didn’t give him eyes in the back of his head.

 

As Ace is busy thanking his deity for his ability, Masked Man rushes towards him and collides, sending Lezaire flying off of the apron and into the guardrail!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

As Canada’s Greatest Hope crashes against the steel guardrail, Masked Man slips between the ropes and follows down onto the floor, while referee Nick Soapdish remains in the ring.

 

“Like him or not, this is actually smart wrestling by The Masked Man,” Comet notes, “he has five opponents ahead of him, and it’d be smart to get a jump start on his first opponent.”

 

“Man, this is tough,” Riley adds, “I mean, I can’t decide who to cheer for! Both these guys are so – damn – good!”

 

“I feel your pain,” Comet replies sarcastically, adding an eye roll for emphasis.

 

With both men now on the outside, TMM grabs hold of the surprised and shaken Ace Lezaire and drives his head into the guardrail! And a second time! Satisfied, Masked Fury pulls Ace by the hair and sends him under the bottom rope, back into the ring, and he follows. Both men get to their feet, and Masked Man slugs Ace with two quick punches to the head. He grabs Lezaire by the wrist and whips him towards the opposite ropes, but the quicker Lezaire is able to reverse the momentum and send TMM towards the ropes! He hits them and returns, allowing Ace to drop down to the mat and scissor TMM’s ankle with his legs, dropping him face first to the mat! Lezaire quickly transitions this into a hammerlock by pulling Mask’s right arm back, but he lets go and ‘rides’ him over to his head, which he wraps his arm around with a front facelock!

 

“Ace Lezaire is certainly showcasing his speed and technical expertise early on,” Comet analyzes, “and it certainly appears as though he’s recovered from that sneak attack earlier.”

 

“That’s not just his speed and technical expertise,” Riley glows, “that’s the GREATEST drop toe hold to hammerlock to front facelock EVER!”

 

However, still being fresh, Masked Man is able to press onto his knees, and up to his feet! Ace keeps the headlock on tight, but TMM fires off punches to the gut of Lezaire, and is able to break free! Before Canada’s Greatest Hope can react, Masked Fury fires off another shot to Ace’s gut, this time a kick! With his opponent doubled over, Mask quickly shoots his bent right leg up, slamming his knee into Ace’s forehead, knocking him back to the mat! TMM quickly stoops down to pick his first of five opponents off the mat, but Lezaire is able to do it himself. The Sexual Maskosaurus ducks behind Ace and positions himself under his arm, before taking a hold of his torso and lifting him up for a back suplex…but Lezaire shifts his weight and flips over Mask’s shoulder, landing behind him on his feet! Lezaire simply shoves Masked Man, but the force pushes him into the turnbuckle! As TMM hits this he comes stumbling out, just as Ace leaps into the air and shoots his legs out, nailing a perfect dropkick to his opponent’s masked face, sending him down to the mat!

 

“LE – ZAIRE – SUCKS!”

 

“LE – ZAIRE – SUCKS!”

 

The negative chants ROCK the Mark of the Quad, but as soon as Ace reaches his feet, he again waves to the crowd and thanks them for their support! Not to be shown up, Masked Man hurries to his feet, but Ace takes him by the arm and whips him into the ropes! TMM hits the ropes and comes back, but he sidesteps Lezaire’s spinning roundhouse kick! Positioned behind Lezaire, Masked Man simply fires a hard forearm shot at his opponent’s neck, striking him down against the ropes! This unorthodox maneuver buys Masked Man some time, and allows him to execute another unorthodox move, grabbing Ace by the hair and forcefully pushing him backwards and onto the mat!

 

“Our Sexual Maskosaurus is taking the rough and tumble route,” Comet points out, “while Citizen Lezaire tries to counteract this with strikes and technical wrestling. It’s certainly an interesting juxtaposition.”

 

“But it’s fun,” Riley adds, “we’re seeing what Masked Man is really made of, underneath the mask. He has a mountain, hell, a volcano, ahead of him, and he’s going to claw and bite and do whatever the hell he can to make sure he wins three matches. And make sure they don’t get his briefcase.”

 

“But Bobbo, do volcanoes usually have antromorphic ferrets inside of them?”

 

“Not usually.”

 

Looking to keep the advantage on Lezaire, Masked Man drops down on top of him, mounting him, before firing off hard, HARD punches to the skull! After a total of TEN blows (Saget, Stamos, and Coulier counted along with each one), Masked Man dismounts Lezaire and turns him over onto his stomach, before rolling over his body and twisting Lezaire over into an Oklahoma Roll pinning predicament, prompting Nick Soapdish to count the first pin of the match!

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

TW – KICKOUT!

 

Both men quickly get back to their feet, but Masked Fury thinks fast and shoots his extended arm out, taking Ace right back down with a big clothesline! Hoping to keep the pressure on (and end the match as soon as possible), TMM brings Ace right back up to his feet and positions him…no! Lezaire breaks free from Mask’s clutches and shoots his thumb right into TMM’s eye, blinding him! With his opponent distracted, Lezaire doubles him over and underhooks his arms, before lifting him up and slamming him to the mat with a double arm suplex! Lezaire floats right over into a pin, as Nick Soapdish counts!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

AND A KICKOUT!

 

“And this first contest retains its back and forth, rough and tumble action!” Comet proclaims, “I have to admit, I expected a stall-a-thon from Masked Man, which would allow him to conserve his energy. In fact-“

 

“Now WHY would you expect THAT?” Riley questions, “Masked Man has NEVER backed down from a challenge, even one as daunting as this.”

 

“AS I was saying,” Comet continues, “In fact, he has been the aggressor for the majority of the match!”

 

Lezaire picks TMM up by his masked head and grabs his wrist, again executing an Irish whip, but this time into the corner turnbuckle! Masked Fury’s back slams HARD into the buckle, and as he staggers out, Ace follows this by scooping him up and flipping his body around before dropping him back-first across his knee with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! Lezaire AGAIN presses down on the Sexual Maskosaurus, executing ANOTHER pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

AND ANOTHER KICKOUT!

 

Instead of going for the same old – same old of picking TMM up, Ace decides to instead stand up and grace the fans with his acknowledgement. However, instead of the crowd’s eyes being on him, they focus on the altercation at ringside, in which Bob, Dave, and John are heckling Steve the cameraman!

 

“Bobbo, is Citizen Coulier doing what I think he’s doing?”

 

“Damn right, Comet, he’s using his Mr. Woodchuck voice on Steve! That’s death to anyone within earshot!”

 

Nevertheless, Ace turns back to Masked Man, who’s already back up to his knees! He fires off a quick punch to Ace’s midsection, but Lezaire stops him with an overhead punch to the head, followed by a quick roundhouse kick right to TMM’s head!

 

 

…no! Masked Fury catches Ace’s leg and shoves him onto his back with a modified single leg takedown! As Lezaire hits the mat, Masked Man hurries to his feet and is followed immediately by Ace, who shakes off the move. However, TMM leaps into the air and swings his leg around, catching Lezaire in the back of the head with a massive enzuiguri kick! The move doesn’t take Ace down, but he staggers from the impact of the kick, allowing the Sexual Maskosaurus to trap him in a front facelock and fall back, drilling his opponent’s head into the mat with a big DDT! Masked Man keeps the front facelock on when he hits the ground, though, and wraps his legs around Lezaire’s body, executing a guillotine choke!

 

“Referee Soapdish had best keep a close eye on this hold,” Comet notes, “not just for the submission by Lezaire-“

 

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Riley butts in.

 

“-but also for the choke. Granted, it’s in the name, but Masked Man is simply executing a front facelock. If his forearm presses against Lezaire’s throat, it’s a choke, and ergo illegal.”

 

“MASKED – MAN – SUCKS!”

 

“MASKED – MAN – SUCKS!”

 

Despite the Full House Krew’s best efforts to silence the crowd, the Illinois fans are loud and vociferous in their disdain for the Sexual Maskosaurus. Masked Man milks the guillotine for a few more seconds, before seeing an opening and unwrapping his legs, bringing Ace up while still in the front facelock. He then grabs onto Ace’s tights and hoists him into the air, upside down, preparing for the Cautionary Tale of Sexual Maskosaurus!

 

…but Ace slips out, landing on his feet! Though he’s dazed for a second, Ace is able to run to the ropes, and as Mask turns around, Lezaire LEAPS into the air, for a body press…no, Masked Man catches him out of the air and backs up, dropping him throat-first into the turnbuckle! Quickly, TMM drops down and reaches up between Lezaire’s legs, pulling him over into a schoolboy roll-up! While Soapdish drops down to count, Masked Fury drapes his legs on the second rope!

 

 

OOOOONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOO!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THREENOACEKICKEDOUT!!!!!!

 

 

“Masked Man’s becoming desperate!” Comet proclaims, “He RARELY cheats, but he just did now against Citizen Lezaire!”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Riley agrees, “I bet he didn’t expect the *first stage* to last this long. He wants to end it, any way possible.”

 

Masked Man and Ace Lezaire both rise up, and TMM, increasingly desperate to end this first match, ducks behind his opponent and traps his arms in a double chickenwing, twisting around for the Unprettier called The Masked Avenger, but Ace shoves him off and into the ropes! Masked Fury hits the ropes and bounces back, just as Canada’s Greatest Hope summons up the strength to leap up, kick his legs out, and connect with a dropkick to Masked Man’s chest, before flipping back and landing on his feet, completing the dropsault! As TMM hits the mat, Ace ‘salutes’ his ‘fans’, before ‘running’ towards the ropes, leaping onto the second rope, jumping onto the top rope, and then flipping backwards with a PICTURE PERFECT TRIPLE JUMP MOONSAULT!

 

 

…BUT MASKED MAN MOVES OUT OF THE WAY AND ACE LANDS FLAT ON THE MAT! With Lezaire on his stomach, Masked Fury, as fast as he can, twists around Ace’s arm and rolls over, pinning Ace’s shoulders to the mat with the La Magistral cradle!

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

Lezaire kicks his shoulders up off the canvas, breaking the pin!

 

“I have to give credit to Citizen Lezaire,” Comet admits, “he’s bringing the fight to Masked Man, and then some!”

 

“I just can’t believe you ever DOUBTED him,” Riley scoffs.

 

As soon as both competitors scurry to their feet, TMM is able to capture Ace in a double chickenwing and twist around for the Masked Avenger again, but this time, Ace drops down to a knee, which catches Masked Fury by surprise and forces him down to the mat, right on his ass! Sensing an opening, Ace runs to the ropes, and as he approaches the seated Mask, he grabs his head and flips over him, giving him whiplash with a perfect neck snap! Masked Man stumbles up to his feet, but Lezaire surprises him with a ¾ facelock and runs forward for the STUNNER…but TMM shuts him down cold by wrapping his arm around Lezaire’s head with an inverted facelock, before dropping to a knee and driving his neck down onto his knee with a modified reverse DDT! He holds onto his opponent’s head, brings it back up, and stands back to back with him, before falling back with a big neckbreaker to complete the Blood Money combo! As Lezaire hits the mat, Mask decides to go for something severe, and he moves to the corner, where he scales the ropes all the way to the top turnbuckle!

 

“MASKED – MAN – SUCKS!”

 

“LE – ZAIRE – SUCKS!”

 

The crowd is equal in their disdain, but as Masked Man is perched on the top rope, ready for Lezaire to get to his feet, he salutes the Full House gang on the floor! As Ace gets back to his vertical base and turns towards TMM, the masked one leaps, in one fell swoop, off the turnbuckle with his arm extended for a flying clothesline!

 

 

…but SOMEHOW, SOME WAY, Ace Lezaire catches him and falls backwards, dropping him down throat-first across the top rope! Masked Man BOUNCES backwards on impact, right onto his back, as Lezaire regains his marbles! Masked Fury gets back up and stumbles towards Canada’s Greatest Hope, but he’s caught in a ¾ facelock, as Ace runs forward and sits out, driving Masked Man’s chin into his shoulder with the GREATEST EVER FINISHER IN THE HISTORY OF ANYTHING!

 

“Chicken and STARS!” Comet proclaims, “Citizen Lezaire just hit the A.C.E. out of NOWHERE! Masked Man is OUT!”

 

“I don’t know whether to be happy or sad!” Riley adds.

 

Ace rolls on top of Masked Man, hooking his leg as Steve jumps onto the apron for an extreme close-up, and Nick Soapdish drops down to count the pin!

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon cries, over the huge mixed reaction in the Mark of the Quad, “Ace Lezaire has defeated The Masked Man! The score is now Masked Man’s Opponents: 1, Masked Man: 0! There will be a thirty second rest period before the introduction of the next match, and Masked Man’s next opponent!”

 

Lezaire rises up onto his knees, generously posing for Steve’s running camera! However, Nick Soapdish forces Ace out of the ring (to his and Steve’s chagrin), due to the ongoing nature of this GRUELING gauntlet!

 

“Can you believe this?” Comet asks, “Masked Man is already down 1-0 in his own gauntlet match! This is NOT a good sign!”

 

“Well, up next is a chairshot match,” Riley notes, “since he has a weapon to use, maybe he can expedite this process and easily win to go on to the next stage.”

 

Masked Man’s eyelids begin to flutter, and he is soon able to turn onto his stomach and crawl towards a turnbuckle. As soon as he begins catching his breath…that 30 seconds is up much too quickly.

 

“The rest period has EXPIRED!” Funyon proclaims, “And the NEXT stage is a CHAIRSHOT CHALLENGE! In this stage, chairs are the ONLY legal weapon, and there are no count-outs. The use of any other weapon will result in a disqualification.”

 

As Masked Man reclines in the corner, Dave, John, and Bob leap over the barricade and provide water, a towel, and laughs, respectively, for TMM. However, this doesn’t last long, as Papa Roach’s “Last Resort” hits and the Illinois fans are taken back to a time where crap-angst ‘rock’ music pwn3d the MTV airwaves! But this time, it’s not MTV, it’s DAVID BLAZENWING~!

 

“From Milwaukee, Wisconsin, weighing in at 245 pounds, DAAAAAAVID BLAAAAAAAZENWIIIIIING!!!!!”

 

Blaze charges down the ramp amidst scattered cheers from the crowd, chair in hand, and he slides into the ring, ready to begin the match as the Full House Trio scatter!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Blazenwing spies Masked Man and swings the steel chair at him with reckless abandon, but it’s well, reckless, as TMM rolls out of the way and good old Dave smacks the chair against the turnbuckle! Mask, now with his opponent cornered, turns him around and fires off right hands to his face, causing him to drop the chair, and his guard, long enough to drive a kick into his gut, followed by a knife edge chop!

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

“WOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

*SMACK!*

 

 

“WOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

However, the fresh Blazenwing is able to turn the tides, pinning Masked Man against the corner and unleashing with chops of his own!

 

 

*SMACK DIZZLE JUST TO USE A DIFFERENT SOUND THAN JUST SMACK!*

 

 

“WOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

*SMACK DIZZLE JUST TO USE A DIFFERENT SOUND THAN JUST SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOOOOOO!”

 

With TMM rocked back in the corner, David lifts his leg up and drives his knee into Mask’s gut! A second time! A third time! Blazenwing follows this up with a quick elbow strike to Masked Fury’s head, and then hustles back to the opposite corner, where he charges towards TMM and, once he hits the right spot, he leaps into the air, looking to bring all of his weight down with a Stinger Splash…and he connects! Quickly, David picks the chair up off the mat and WILDLY swings it around, but AGAIN the Sexual Maskosaurus ducks, and Blaze hits nothing but turnbuckle again! However, DB capitalizes on Mask’s groggy state and drops the chair, spins around, and lifts his leg up, dropping The Mask down to the mat with a big boot!

 

“Citizen Blazenwing really wants to take advantage of the stipulation early on!” Comet points out, “in the opening minutes of this contest, he’s already tried to use the chair twice!”

 

“And that’s his problem,” Riley adds, “he’s too busy going for the chair when he could just be kicking the crap out of a prone Masked Man. It’s going to cost him, I tell you.”

 

 

Blazenwing picks Masked Man up off the mat and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him towards the ropes. As his opponent rebounds, David bends over and catches him, standing up and flipping him over into the air with such height, TMM is able to do a complete rotation and use his agility to land on his feet!

 

Well, until current physical state gets to him, causing him to drop down to his knees and catch his breath. He tries to shake this off, however, by running towards the opposite ropes, but Blazenwing nails Masked Fury on the rebound by scooping him onto his shoulders and falling back with a Samoan drop! To capitalize on this, David scoops up the steel chair and charges to the ropes. As he comes back, he leaps into the air, legs extended, with the chair under him, and he flattens Masked Man’s face with a chair-assisted legdrop! He covers TMM as Nick Soapdish makes the first pinfall of this match.

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

AND A KICKOUT!!

 

Masked Man powers out of the pin attempt, and despite Blazenwing’s attempts to keep him at bay, the slippery TMM is able to roll under the bottom rope and out of the ring!

 

“Masked Man just can’t keep up, can he?” Comet asks, “he takes a dive every time his opponent has an advantage!”

 

“Comet, you’re wrong for a number of reasons,” Riley argues, “one, that’s the first time he’s done that this match. Two, it’s no count-out; he’s just taking advantage of the situation, giving himself a PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE breather.”

 

Coincidentally, our Sexual Maskosaurus went to the outside of the ring right in front of the Full House Krew, leaning against the guardrail. Unsurprisingly, the former Joey Gladstone massages TMM’s shoulders as he rests, but Mask soon turns around and asks Coulier for his chair. Dave obliges, but as Fury’s back is turned, Blazenwing decides to take JUSTICE~ in his own hands and run to the opposite ropes, building up steam. As he does this, Mr. Saget shouts “BEHIND YOU!”

 

*CRAAAAAAAAAACK!*

 

As Blazenwing reaches and DIVES in between the middle and top ropes, TMM takes Bob’s message and turns around, swinging the chair not unlike Barry Bonds, possibly SHATTERING Blazenwing’s skull in the process!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

Masked Man turns and thanks Bob for the advice, but with Dave Coulier now chairless, he decides to sit on Mr. Stamos’ lap, which actually gets a laugh from the Mark of the Quad.

 

“Our Sexual Maskosaurus may have fractured Citizen Blazenwing’s SKULL with that chairshot!” Comet shouts, “David was flying out of the ring like a freight train if a freight train could fly, and Masked Fury intercepted him with a SICK chair! How will he even be able to function?”

 

“I used to think ‘Full House’ was lame,” Riley confessed, “but these guys are true stars. And, by the way, you think they can hook me up with Lori Loughlin or the Olsen twins?”

 

“So, women are the item on the menu today?”

 

“You are correct. …wait, today? Go to hell, Comet.”

 

Masked Man sees the opportunity to end the match as quickly as possible, and picks David’s body up, sending it under the bottom rope and back into the ring! TMM follows him right in, chair in tow, pouncing on top of him with a tight pin cover!

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

Somehow, David Blazenwing is able to power his shoulder up, much to the delight of the Illinois fans! However, our Sexual Maskosaurus attempts to silence these fans by sitting DB up and lacing his own arms through Blazenwing’s, pressing against the back of his head with a tight full nelson!

 

“MASKED – MAN – SUCKS!”

 

“MASKED – MAN – SUCKS!”

 

Despite the negativity towards the masked wonder, TMM continues to press against Blazenwing’s skull, attempting to incapacitate him completely! The fans, however, begin clapping furiously, trying to get Blazenwing to come to his senses and escape the hold. It seems to work, as David rolls over, and onto his knees! Hoping to shut DB down for good, Masked Man applies even MORE pressure with the full nelson, but Blaze spies the steel chair nearby on the mat, and, unbeknownst to TMM, he grabs a hold of it and swings upward…

 

 

*CRAAAACK!*

 

…leveling him with a chairshot that forces the hold to be broken, and forces Masked Man down to the mat!

 

“Great idea by Citizen Blazenwing!” Comet commends, “he used the stipulations of the match in his favor to escape from the dreaded full nelson hold!”

 

“Oh, okay,” Riley replies, sarcastically, “it’s okay for Blazenwing to take advantage of the stipulations, but if Masked Man rolls out of the ring for a legal breather, he’s a coward?”

 

“Bobbo, Blazenwing’s plan was smart. Masked Man’s was just-“

 

“Smart, yes, I agree. Let’s move on.”

 

As fast as he can, David rises to his feet, shakes out the cobwebs, and walks over the turnbuckle, climbing all the way up to the top rope. After briefly acknowledging the fans, Blazenwing leaps off and soars through the air, pumping his arms and legs for a MASSIVE frog splash!

 

 

AND IT CONNECTS! Blazenwing stays right on top of TMM as Nick Soapdish counts the pinfall!

 

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEENOKICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Masked Man is able to get a shoulder off the canvas, showing that he is still in this match! However, David Blazenwing wants to end the match NOW (he says as much to the fans), and he picks the steel chair up, before retreating to a corner. Once there, he begins stomping his foot down on the mat, and the fans buzz in anticipation for The Full Effect super kick! TMM rolls around on the canvas, groggily pulling onto the ropes to bring himself up to a standing position. As he turns around to face Blazenwing, the former superhero tosses the chair at Masked Fury, which he instinctively catches! Then, Blazenwing takes a hop forward and shoots his leg out, looking for a chair-assisted super kick, but our Sexual Maskosaurus sidesteps it, and as DB turns around, Masked Man swings the chair with SKULL-CRACKING FORCE!

 

*WHAMMOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!*

 

 

Despite the sickening shot from TMM, the impact of the two matches catch up to him, and he drops down to his knees, regaining his composure. Finally, he crawls over to Blazenwing, draping an arm over him as Nick Soapdish counts!

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

…NO! BLAZENWING GETS THE SHOULDER UP! The crowd, Masked Man, the Full House Krew, and the commentators are in shock that Blazenwing kicked out of such an AWESOME chairshot!

 

“I am in SHOCK!” Comet confirms, “I thought Citizen Blazenwing was done for!”

 

“That was a fluke,” Riley assures, “All Mask needs to do is hit one of his finishers, and David’s as good as gone.”

 

Taking his time, TMM places both chairs on top of each other, prepared for the Final Solution, Romanian Edition™. He then bends down and grabs Blazenwing by the head, bringing him up to his feet, but trapping him in a tight front facelock! The Full House Krew at ringside realizes what’s coming, and they begin performing the WAVE! Masked Man acknowledges them before grabbing Blazenwing’s pants and lifting him upside down into the air vertically, looking to spike his head onto both chairs with the Cautionary Tale of Sexual Maskosaurus!

 

 

…but really, he should try to keep a tighter hold on his opponents.

 

Blazenwing, just like Ace Lezaire earlier, is able to shift his weight and drop behind Masked Man, before bending down and grabbing one of the steel chairs! Looking to save his own ass, literally, Masked Man spins around, and seeing DB with a chair, he grabs the other! The two men are at a standoff!

 

“We may see something resembling a samurai showdown to the death!” Comet cries.

 

“Yes, because I’m sure Akira Kurosawa always envisioned his samurai warriors battling with steel sitting devices.” Riley sarcastically replies.

 

Finally, Masked Man makes the first move, swinging his chair!

 

*CLANG!*

 

But Blazenwing blocks it with his chair! Another swing!

 

*CLANG!* Another block!

 

 

*CLANG!*

 

 

*CLANG!*

 

 

*CLANG!*

 

Finally sick of this let’s – pretend – these – are – swords – chair fight, Masked Man lightly shoves referee Nick Soapdish away, and while his back is turned, he lifts his leg up and PUNTS Blazenwing right in the jimmies!

 

*CHING!*

 

“OOOOOOOOH!”

 

Blazenwing drops his chair and drops to his knees, as Nick Soapdish turns back around and asks TMM just what’s up. Masked Man shrugs and apologizes, but then bends down and picks up David’s chair with his free hand. With a chair in each hand, he stands waiting for DB to slowly… get… to… his… feet…

 

 

*CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!*

 

…and claps both chairs together AGAINST BLAZENWING’S SKULL!

 

“HOLY – SHIT!”

 

“HOLY – SHIT!”

 

“That was UNBELIEVABLE, Bobbo!” Comet exclaims, “David Blazenwing’s skull must seriously be cracked!”

 

“Well, he obviously doesn’t have a brain to be damaged,” Riley replies, “he was the one stupid enough to get into a chair duel with our Sexual Maskosaurus.”

 

As Blazenwing falls in a TIIIIIIIIIMBER fashion to the mat, Masked Fury throws one of the chairs down, and DB falls right on top of it. TMM then puts the other chair on top of Blazenwing, making a superhero sandwich! Masked Man points to the Full House Krew, and, just to show off, he walks to the nearest turnbuckle and climbs to the very top rope! TMM reaches the top and flashes the “I Love You” sign to the FHK, and then LEAPS through the air, SAILING down with a SUPERFLY SPLASH ONTO THE CHAIR, CRUSHING BLAZENWING! The Sexual Maskosaurus rolls off of Blazenwing, obviously affected by the flashy move, but slowly, surely, he crawls over, pulls the chair off Blazenwing, and covers him!

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon bellows, “The Masked Man has defeated David Blazenwing in the Chairshot Challenge! The score is now Masked Man’s Opponents: 1, Masked Man: 1. There will now be a 30 second rest period!”

 

“Well,” Comet begins, “That was a spectacular finish, but it might’ve been a bad idea. I think all the flash and panache just took a heck of a lot out of our Sexual Maskosaurus.”

 

“P’shaw,” Riley argues, “He has 30 seconds to rest up. That’s plenty of time, considering the next stage is just a tables match.”

 

“JUST a tables match? Bobbo, this could be seriously deadly!”

 

Blazenwing rolls out of the ring and plops onto the floor, beaten and destroyed. Masked Man is triumphant, but still a little out of it. Again, the Full House Krew come to ringside and supply Mask with water and motivation. Bob Saget even produces a wedge of cheese from his pants! Everyone wonders how it got there, and they all look at Dave Coulier.

 

“I have NEVER stuck ANYTHING down that man’s pants,” Dave says. Off their looks, however, he confesses, “well, except that one time…at the SIZZLER~”

 

As John Stamos contemplates the meaning of life, a buzzer sounds, meaning it’s time to begin the THIRD ROUND!

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the next stage is a TABLES MATCH, with NO DISQUALIFICATIONS! The winner will be the first competitor to successfully put their opponent through a table. Going through a table on a competitor’s own accord does NOT count. Now, introducing Masked Man’s opponent!”

 

Suddenly, the house lights turn green and start to flicker as Alice Cooper’s “Poison” hits the speakers!

 

"Your cruel device

Your blood, like ice

One look could kill

My pain, your thrill!"

 

The fans, simply put, EXPLODE!

 

…well, the male ones, at least, as the bombastically beautiful EBONY~ struts out from behind the curtain!

 

“From Parts Unknown, she is the delightfully sexy seductress of the night, she is EEEEEEEEEEBOOOOOOONYYYYY!!!!!!!!!”

 

Masked Man’s mouth is agape. Riley and Comet are in shock. Dave Coulier whips it out and starts jacking right then and there!

 

 

Just kidding.

 

 

Ebony slowly, sexily struts to the ring, climbs up the steps, and seductively steps between the ropes! As all known sex adjectives are being used, Ebony walks right up to Masked Man, and he gawks, as the bell is rung!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Masked Man, however, slides out of the ring and grabs the microphone away from Funyon, before sliding back into the ring to address his opponent.

 

“My dear, sweet, lovely Ebony, it has come to my attention that you are an astoundingly beautiful specimen. With that in mind, how about we, how you say, forfeit the match, go back to my locker room, and get to know each other? My Slovakian friend Lenka says I am good at the cunnilingus!”

 

Well, color Ebony impressed. She continues to move her hips, causing Masked Man’s drool to dribble down his chin, moistening his mask! She lures him in, closer and closer, and then-

 

*SMACK / SCRATCH!*

 

Ebony sends a claw across his face! Masked Man stumbles back, but as he does, Ebony’s claws get stuck in the fabric of his mask! With this obvious wardrobe malfunction working to his favor, Masked Man kicks Ebony in the midsection removes her claws, and twists her arm into a wristlock!

 

“Well, this has certainly taken an…interesting twist,” Comet notes, “first of all, we have an antromorphic ferret in a tables match, and secondly, Masked Man is trying to contain her with a WRISTLOCK!”

 

Riley wipes up the drool long enough to mutter, “So…hot. Comet, you don’t even understand her beauty. I think I’m under a spell. I’m transfixed. I can’t…turn…my eyes away.”

 

Ebony, however, decides that this is too much. Taking full advantage of the no disqualification stipulation, the sultry ferret swings her leg up and punts Masked Man right in the jimmies!

 

*CHING!*

 

The impact of the unbelievable Eboniser floors Masked Man immediately, as he clutches his poor jinx and lets out a Romanian cry of pain! With her opponent floored, Ebony walks to the outside of the ring, BENDS OVER~ (much to the delight and ejaculation of the former Joey Gladstone) to retrieve a table from under the ring, and slides it back into the squared circle! As TMM gingerly holds his testicles, Ebony props the table up in the center of the ring. She reaches down and grabs hold of Masked Fury, who is still in a fetal position, and brings him up, before trapping him in a front facelock, with Masked Man’s back to the table. She falls back for a DDT, but TMM keeps his footing, sends a punch into her gut, and arches back, sending her over with a northern lights suplex through the table!

 

 

…no, wait, Ebony uses her agility to flip onto her feet, on the other side of the table, avoiding the loss! Ebony darts towards the ropes, leaps onto the second rope, and springs backwards with a springboard clothesline, but Masked Man backs up, pulling the table with him, and EBONY GOES CRASHING THROUGH THE TABLE!

 

*CRAAAAAAAAASH!*

 

“OOOOOOOOOH!”

 

“Good gracious, my stars!” Comet shouts, “Ebony just put herself through that table! The match isn’t over, but our Sexual Maskosaurus just bought himself a tremendous amount of time to recover from the Eboniser.”

 

“This is AWFUL!” Riley cries, “I mean, she’s so beautiful, and now she’s got splinters all over her!”

 

“I bet if he were here, Splinter WOULD be all over her!” Comet chuckles to himself.

 

“Comet, subtle Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle jokes won’t win you over any new fans.”

 

“I don’t need any; everybody loves me!”

 

“Keep thinking that, Comet.”

 

As Ebony lies amidst the shards of broken table, Masked Man falls back against the nearest turnbuckle, resting himself up. After he does this, Ebony is still licking her wounds (literally), so instead of immediately facing her wrath, he goes outside of the ring, goes UNDER the ring, and produces another table. He slides this back in and props it up in the corner, his back turned from Ebony the entire time.

 

Obviously, this is a bad idea.

 

After the table is propped up in the corner, TMM turns around, to see Ebony standing and waiting for him! He tries to run, but Ebony grabs him in a waistlock and lifts him up, twisting him around and slamming him chest-first onto the mat! As the crowd eats this up with a spoon, Ebony turns Mask onto his back, grabs a hold of one of the wooden shards of table, and begins STABBING HIS CROTCH WITH IT! The entire male population looks away at the exact same time, as Masked Man lets out horrible shrieks of pain! This torture eventually ends, however, and Ebony decides to go back to the basics – she stands up, picks TMM’s legs up, and begins raining down stomps onto his injured testicles!

 

“This is TORTURE!” Riley cries, “the beautiful, voluptuous Ebony is making MY little guys hurt!”

 

“She certainly is, uh, taking advantage of the stipulations,” Comet agrees, “I can’t help but feel bad for our Sexual Maskosaurus!”

 

Ebony FINALLY ends the testicular massacre, and brings TMM up to his feet (a position he’s barely able to hold), right in front of the table in the corner. Ebony swiftly backs up to the center of the ring, and then hops forward, kicking her leg out for a MASSIVE super kick to the JINX!

 

*CHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!*

 

The FORCE of the incredible low blow sends Masked Man flying back…and RIGHT THROUGH THE TABLE!

 

*CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!*

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon cries, “Ebony has defeated The Masked Man in the tables match! The score is now Masked Man’s Opponents: 2, Masked Man: 1. There will be a 30 second…no, 1 minute rest period for poor Masked Man and his testicles.”

 

“That’s not fair!” Riley complains, “I mean, the beautiful Ebony only did a kick! Masked Man fell through that table under his own will!”

 

“I doubt that, Bobbo. The force of the kick sent him through that table, thus giving the lovely Ebony a win in her SWF debut.”

 

As Ebony celebrates, Masked Man lies in a fetal position amidst the broken shards of table. She looks to do more damage, but Nick Soapdish forces her out of the ring. Again, the Full House Krew come to ringside to assist TMM, as Bob Saget even offers to massage Mask’s injured areas! Masked Man respectfully declines, and John Stamos grabs a microphone to pimp the 10-10-220 calling service that he’s become so famous for.

 

“And up next is…well, I’m not sure what,” Comet announces, “it’s the random match stipulation. Bobbo, this could be ANYTHING!”

 

“I’m holding out hope that it’s Hell in an Igloo,” Riley replies, “either that, or a pie eating contest with Mistress Sarah and Annie.”

 

Masked Man continues to massage his OWN testes, as opposed to Saget helping him, but, sadly, there’s no rest for the wicked, and the one minute rest period comes to an end!

[the.weej 0]

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon begins, “the following is a RANDOM STIPULATION match! The stipulation will be revealed as soon as the next competitor enters the ring!”

 

Suddenly, the lights drop and Amon Amarth's "Death in Fire" blasts through the speakers in the Mark of the Quad! The Illinois crowd explodes, as the Black Angel himself appears on the ramp!

 

“Masked Man’s next opponent, from Shrewsbury, England, weighing in at 315 pounds, this is THE BLAAAAAAAAACK AAAAAANGEL, AAAAAECASSSSSS!!!”

 

Aecas continues his slow walk to the ring, and he finally climbs up onto the apron and steps between the ropes. Ring attendants have cleared the broken table shards, and Masked Man is actually crouching now, to the surprise of everyone.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“The random stipulation,” Funyon bellows, and then directs everyone’s attention to the Smarktron.

 

The tron turns black, and three white words appear. Yes, just three words.

 

 

 

 

 

STASH

 

 

 

THE

 

 

 

ASH

 

 

 

The Moline crowd EXPLODES!

 

Aecas grins!

 

Masked Man holds his jimmies!

 

And somewhere, Frost collects a $3,452 royalty check.

 

“Stash the Ash?!” Comet cries, “we haven’t seen that in years!”

 

“The match Frost should’ve won, damn it!” Riley adds, “But how the hell are they going to do it now? I mean, I know Craven’s in the building, but it’s not like he has to catch a flight to his honeymoon again.”

 

“The rules,” Funyon begins, “are simple. In 20 minutes, Michael Craven leaves with his wife, Amy, and his daughter, Hollyanna, for dinner in Chicago. The winner of this match will be the first man to find Craven – slash – Ash backstage and delay him from leaving. The only way this can be done is by stashing him into a trash can.”

 

There’s a brief pause and then…

 

“Let the games begin!”

 

Aecas moves towards the entrance, but decides against it, turning instead towards The Masked Man! He corners his weakened opponent, and immediately begins firing off HARD, HARD, HARD forearms to Masked Fury’s head! The force of these blows causes TMM to slump down against the bottom turnbuckle, right on his ass. Aecas grabs his arm and picks him up, however, before whipping him HARD (yes, ‘hard’ is being overused, why do you ask?) into the opposite turnbuckle. In fact, TMM hits the buckle with such velocity, he falls forward and onto the mat upon impact! He slowly crawls up to his knees, but Aecas is right there waiting for him, and he picks him back up. He wraps his arms around Masked Man’s body, in a bearhug position, before turning on his heel and dropping the Sexual Maskosaurus with a side belly to belly suplex…but Aecas doesn’t drop him on the mat, oh no, he makes sure he’s right next to the ropes, so he can throw him ALLLLLLLLL THE WAY DOWN TO THE FLOOOOOR!

 

Breathtaking, no?

 

“After all the abuse Masked Man has taken,” Riley whines, “they put him up against a certifiable psychotic MONSTER in Aecas? This is SO unfair!”

 

“Unfair, possibly, but it’s all part of the stipulations!” Comet replies, cheerfully.

 

Aecas follows TMM outside, grabs him by the head, and lifts him up to his feet…

 

…and does nothing. The two men look at each other, nod, and turn towards the entryway, where they SHOOT OFF (or, in Mask’s case, LIMP OFF) towards the backstage area, the only place to conceivably find Ash! Aecas, the fresh man of the hour, quickly makes it backstage, while TMM continues to slowly limp up the ramp. However, the Full House Krew again make their presence felt, this time as John Stamos meets up with Masked Man and shows him…

 

…a sleek, motorized scooter! Yes, with the power of Jesse Katsopolis’ scooter, Masked Man speeds backstage, and catches up to Aecas! The Black Angel, for some reason, doesn’t turn around to see what’s making that buzzing sound, allowing Mask to leap off the scooter as he passes by, kicking his leg out, and smacking his boot against the back of Aecas’ head with an enzuiguri! Masked Man, with his reckless abandon, falls smack against the concrete floor, the scooter speeds and crashes into the concession table, and Aecas doesn’t budge. Well, he budges a little bit, but he’s still standing.

 

“That was, well, clever,” Comet helpfully commends, “but clever in a very dumb way. He jumped off a speeding vehicle without safety equipment! That’s very, very dangerous!”

 

“And it obviously didn’t get him much,” Riley adds, “Aecas doesn’t look to be harmed at all!”

 

Aecas bends down and picks Masked Man up, before taking him by the head and throwing him head-first into the wall! TMM falls backwards, but Aecas keeps a hold on him, to dish out more punishment! The two competitors take a walk down a hallway, until they get to a door that helpfully has the nametag “Ash Ketchum”. Despite the fact that if he had his own, private locker room, he’d use the nametag “Michael Craven”, Aecas decides to see what’s behind door number one. He KICKS the door down (who doesn’t love a good entrance?) and walks in, as Masked Man reclines against the wall. Suddenly, loud crashing is heard inside of the room. TMM is oblivious to it, but as he turns to look to his right, he sees something:

 

Janus, number one contender for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship, driving a forklift.

 

No, it’s a hallucination, as referee Nick Soapdish stands in front of Masked Man, waving his hand in front of his face. A shame, to be sure. However, as Masked Man turns back to the locker room door, the first thing he sees is the ginormous knee of Aecas colliding with his face!

 

*BOOM!*

 

Aecas curses some British slurs about being tricked and there being nothing in the room but things that deserved to be broken. Or something. Nevertheless, Aecas trudges on, while TMM tries to even figure out where he is. Masked Man gets to his feet with the assistance of Nick Soapdish and hangs onto him, following Aecas’ scent (yes, he can really do that). Mask follows Aecas into an open door, and sees Aecas, standing in front of Amy Craven, while the shower in the background is running!

 

“Yeah, so Michael is showering now, he’s always a last minute person, you know? So like, I said, ‘Michael, we have dinner in 20 minutes’ and he’s all ‘I know, I know, I know’ and he FINALLY took a shower despite doing NOTHING all day and then I realized Hollyanna hadn’t showered so I told him to help her and now we’re waiting for them.”

 

Aecas, not surprisingly, isn’t amused. Masked Man stumbles in, and stands next to Aecas.

 

“So,” Mask begins, in his rough European accent, “what are we waiting for?”

 

“…you want to take him out of the shower?” Aecas asks, equally rough.

 

And so they wait.

 

“Well, this certainly is…exciting,” Comet notes, “there hasn’t been much wrestling, but this isn’t about the wrestling! It’s about finding Ash Ketch - err, excuse me, Michael Craven, and stashing him in a trash can!”

 

“Hey, they’ve *found* him,” Riley chimes in, “it’s just…would YOU want to pull a naked Ash out of the shower? Especially when he’s helping his baby girl shower?”

 

“So…” Masked Man begins, as both men look at the floor.

 

“Wanna fight?” Aecas asks.

 

“That sounds good,” Mask agrees.

 

And so they fight.

 

Aecas swings for a MASSIVE lariat to take Mask’s head off, but Mask ducks and as Aecas turns around, he takes a page out of Ebony’s playbook and punts the Black Angel right in the jimmies!

 

*CHING!*

 

With Aecas bent over, in sheer pain, Mask traps him in a front facelock and falls backwards, spiking him with a DDT onto the locker room floor! As Amy Craven shrieks in horror over the idea of two burly men fighting in her family’s locker room, TMM gets to his feet and celebrates a small victory…that is, until Aecas gets right back up to his feet. In fact, the Black Angel bends over and beckons Masked Man to give him ANOTHER DDT! Crazily, Masked Fury accepts this offer and puts Aecas in the front facelock, but, unsurprisingly, the Black Angel has other plans, and he runs forward, drilling Mask’s back into the wall! As the Romanian cries out in pain, Aecas backs up a few steps and then charges forward, swinging his arm out and nearly DECAPITATING our Sexual Maskosaurus with an ENORMOUS LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOO! Masked Man hits the locker room floor with a smack, and Amy retreats to the bathroom.

 

“So NOW we’re getting the wrestling match,” Comet points out, “as the two men wait for Ash to exit the shower!”

 

“Bad idea to start wrestling here,” Riley says, “they couldn’t have done it in the ring, no, they had to do it on the cold, hard ground, where it hurts the most.”

 

As Masked Man groans painfully, the shower stops! Aecas turns his attention towards the bathroom door, as some muffled husband / wife / daughter conversation can be heard! Aecas waits, but decides it’s better to inflict more punishment on The Masked Man, first. He looks around the room, and sees one garbage can, which he puts into his memory for later use. He turns back to TMM and brings him up to his feet, before clasping his hand around his throat! As Masked Fury begs off, Aecas effortlessly lifts him into the air…and then drops him down across his outstretched knee with a CHOKEBREAKER! As Aecas completes the move, Ash steps out of the bathroom, clad in ONLY a towel! As the females in the audience let out a shriek of what could be either delight or disgust, Ash addresses the situation.

 

“Hey, guys, what’s going on?”

 

With that, Aecas kicks him in the gut, places him in a standing headscissors, and flips him up onto his shoulders in Executioner position, walking over to the trashcan!

 

…but then it happens. Ash’s towel rides up his legs, and, well, Aecas gets the view. He shudders, drops Ash immediately, and kicks him into the bathroom.

 

“Put some goddamn bloody clothes on, you sodding freak.”

 

The bathroom door shuts, Hollyanna screams, and Amy comforts her man. Meanwhile, Aecas diverts his attention back to Masked Man.

 

“My STARS, Bobbo!” Comet exclaims, “Aecas just got a faceful of…well, I think we should just leave it unsaid!”

 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a face-FUL,” Riley chuckles, “but then again, if Amy wants a faceful after the show…”

 

“WOULD you STOP?”

 

However, as Aecas turns back to TMM, the Romanian is able to weakly shoot his fist up, right between Aecas’ legs!

 

*ching!* (it doesn’t get capital letters because it was weak).

 

Still, a shot to the balls is a shot to the balls, and Aecas groans in pain. Masked Man takes advantage of this by rising to his knees and diving at the Black Angel’s right leg, hitting it with his shoulder and executing a chop block! Aecas drops down to a knee, and Masked Fury quickly climbs up onto a nearby bench and takes Aecas by the head in a front facelock, before leaping off and twisting around, landing on the floor with the Cyclone Complex tornado DDT!

 

“SPLUTTERING, SHOOTING AKSL:AKMASLRWIQ~!” Comet cries, “Cyclone Complex! Did you see that, Bobbo? Right on the floor!”

 

“I know the move has your name in it, Comet,” Riley sighs, “but you don’t need to get so excited over it all the damn time.”

 

Both men hit the floor, just as Craven exits the bathroom, fully clothed (in a tuxedo, no less), wielding the shower curtain rod!

 

“You guys want to try and fight me, huh? Well, I guess your luck just ran out! ”

 

Aecas is already on his knees, but Craven swings the curtain rod down mightily, cracking it across his skull!

 

*FWOOSH – THUNK!* (sorry, Silent)

 

Aecas falls down to the mat!

 

“pwn3d!” Masked Man shouts, until-

 

*FWOOSH – WHAP!*

 

-Ash hits him in the midsection with his massive rod! (Come on, like you didn’t see that coming).

 

“Amy, grab Hollyanna, and take her out to the bus stop. I’ve got some…UNFINISHED business to take care of!”

 

Craven turns to his foes again, both in pain.

 

“Your devastation is at hand! Prepare yourself-slash-yourselves! ^_~”

 

“Honey,” Amy calls from the door, “why did you just use one of your wrestling catchphrases?”

 

“Sorry, sugar pie, I was getting into character ;;;”

 

Craven drops the rod and turns to the bigger threat, Aecas.

 

”So, big daddy Zenon decided to make me a joke, huh? Well, let me tell you that Craven is law, Craven is order! Hey, Zenon, here’s a message!”

 

Craven lifts Aecas up, all 315 pounds of him, onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry! Quickly, he pushes his legs back, spins him around, and sits out, dropping Aecas with the GULF COAST CRUNCH!

 

“This is unbelievable!” Comet shouts, “Michael Craven is truly pwning the competition!”

 

“What happens if both these guys fail to Stash the Ash?” Riley asks, “is it a no contest?”

 

“I guess we’ll find out, Bobbo, because, like I said, Michael Craven is truly pwning the competition!”

 

Ash turns to Masked Man, but he’s already up on his feet, wielding a jock strap! He uses his speed to duck behind Craven and wrap the athletic supporter around his neck, choking the life out of him!

 

“Yes, Master Craven, it is of the utmost importance that we stash you in the nearby trash can and delay you from your dinner date. And after I do this, I will take your mistress Amy into my arms, and, how you say, have my way with her. I will invade her from the front, from the back, and then, if you REALLY want to know what I do next-“

 

However, Masked Man doesn’t have a chance to finish, as Craven runs backwards, driving TMM’s back into the wall!

 

“Everyone has their own worst nightmare. After today, you will know yours! >_<;;” Craven catchphrases!

 

After removing the jock strap from his neck, Ash runs towards the locker room exit, but Aecas is able to reach down, pick up the curtain rod, and STAB ASH IN THE ASS WITH IT! Ash falls and slams his head into the wall, and Masked Man shoves him into the bathroom, follows him in, and locks the door (luckily, the camera got in, too)!

 

Mask kicks Ash square in his ass (PSYCHOLOGY~), which pushes him into the wall. TMM then grabs Craven by the head and batters it into the wall!

 

*BOOM!*

 

Our Sexual Maskosaurus traps Ash in a front facelock and, using all the energy he has after the rod assault, hoists Craven into the air, upside down! He walks over to the 3-foot-tall trashcan…and SPIKES HIM INTO IT WITH THE CAUTIONARY TALE OF SEXUAL MASKOSAURUS!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Exhausted in his victory, Masked Man begins to walk out of the restroom. Before he does, however, he reaches into the nearby urinal, pulls out the urinal cake, and absentmindedly tosses it into the trashcan that is now stashed with Ash. Subtlety, look it up.

 

“Masked Man has survived!” Comet proclaims, “he was on the verge of elimination, but he managed to stash the Ash and win the competition!”

 

“I’m afraid of what Aecas will do,” Riley adds, “he’s right behind that locked door, and when Masked Man comes out, Aecas might KILL him and he might have to forfeit the last stage of this gauntlet!”

 

The tension after Riley’s statement builds, as TMM unlocks the door, opens it…

 

 

…THERE’S AECAS! And…he has his hand clasped around Amy Craven’s throat.

 

“You stashed him, mate?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Right. I’m out of here.” And he drops Amy to the ground.

 

“You do not care that you lost?”

 

“It was a bloody ridiculous stipulation. I got my paycheck, all is well.”

 

Masked Man shrugs, nods at Aecas, and steps out. He begins his slow, very slow walk to the ring, and the camera cuts back to ringside.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon cries, “Masked Man has defeated Aecas! The score is now Masked Man’s Opponents: 2, Masked Man: 2. the fifth and final stage, a ladder match, will now begin! The first competitor to retrieve Masked Man’s briefcase will become its rightful owner! Introducing Masked Man’s opponent!”

 

With that, Tool’s “Schism” belts out from the speakers, and the crowd lets out a mixed reaction as pyro cascades down in a waterfall effect on both sides of the entrance!

 

“From Easton, Pennsylvania,” Funyon continues, “weighing in at 201 pounds, this is the INSAAAAAAAAAAAAANE LUCHADOR, ANDREWWWWWWWWWW RIIIIIIIICKMAAAAAAN!!!!!!”

 

Insane Luchador appears on the ramp, sporting his trademark SMIRK~. He RUNS down to the ring, presumably because he just consumed a Red Bull/ecstasy concoction, and slides in the ring, ready for action.

 

Finally, Masked Man limps out from the back, and the fans greet him negatively. The Full House Krew make their obligatory appearance, helping Masked Man walk to the ring as fast as possible. Masked Man reenters the ring, and Nick Soapdish calls for the bell!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“And here we go!” Comet begins, “this is the final stage of the Five Wounds match, and I’m sure all of you at home are thanking your lucky stars. Nevertheless, Masked Man’s briefcase, and its mysterious contents, hangs in the balance!”

 

“Could you imagine what someone with the name of Insane Luchador’ would do with that briefcase? He’d smuggle illegal drugs across the border, that’s what he’d do! He’s a limey bastard!”

 

Both men look up at the briefcase hanging 20 feet in the air, but then decide to lunge forward, lacing their arms together in a collar-elbow tie-up! Normally, Masked Man would manhandle IL, but after four matches before this, there is a bit of a struggle. A lot of a struggle, to be exact. After quite a bit of said struggle, however, TMM is able to force IL into the corner. He releases the lockup, and then fires off punches to the face of Rickman! After a flurry that would make Tyson blush (just kidding), Masked Man backs up, proud of himself. Unfortunately, the Insane Luchador is, well, insane, and a masochist, and smiles after the assault, begging for more! Masked Fury is proud to give it to him, winding up and swinging, but IL ducks the arm and goes behind TMM, running to the ropes! Our Sexual Maskosaurus turns around, and advances, only to see Rickman leap onto the second rope and springboard off, shooting his legs out and catching Mask right in the, well, mask, with a springboard dropkick!

 

“Citizen Rickman comes out of the gates swinging,” Comet notes, “or, more appropriately, kicking! He really needs to take advantage of Masked Man’s fatigued state!”

 

“He’s not fatigued, he’s just preserving his energy,” Riley assures, “for…you know, climbing the ladder and claiming HIS briefcase.”

 

As TMM hits the mat, Andrew wastes no time in sliding outside of the ring and retrieving a ladder! The fans cheer at the sight of the metal climbing device, and Rickman slides back into the ring with it. Masked Man staggers up to his feet, and as he turns to face IL, Rickman tosses the ladder at him, and then leaps up, again shooting his legs out and dropkicking the ladder right into Masked Man’s face, sending him right back down to the mat! Seeing the ladder still on top of TMM’s prone body, IL runs to the ropes, and as he comes back, he leaps into the air, stretching his legs out and landing back first on the ladder, squashing Mask with a senton splash! Rickman removes the ladder and, working rapid fire, brings our Sexual Maskosaurus up to his feet. He traps him in a front facelock and grabs him by the tights, but to avoid the upcoming suplex, the Romanian fires off punches to Rickman’s midsection, successfully breaking the hold! IL shakes these off, but it’s enough time for Masked Man to swing his bent arm around…

 

*CRACK!*

 

…connecting with an elbow smash that drops IL to the mat! Unaware of there being a ladder in the ring, Masked Man goes to the outside of the ring (well, a more appropriate term would be ‘tumbles to the outside’) right in front of the Full House Krew. He goes over the guardrail and asks for advice, water, and service. Saget offers the water, Coulier offers the advice (‘you have to use the ladder’), and Stamos, well, looks at himself in the mirror. Luchador sees this and, with his trademark reckless abandon, he runs to the opposite ropes, building up momentum, and before Saget can even complete his “BEHIND YOU!” IL LEAPS over the top rope with a NO HANDS SOMERSAULT SENTON SPLASH THAT TAKES OUT MASKED MAN, BOB SAGET, DAVE COULIER, AND JOHN STAMOS!

 

“Have MERCY!” Comet exclaims, “The Insane Luchador proved to be just that, with a death defying move that took out his opponent and his lackeys!”

 

“Lackeys?” Riley asks, “Those are some of Hollywood’s biggest stars! IL’s gonna get sued up his ass!”

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

Rickman pulls himself out of the wreckage, and crawls over the guardrail, reentering the ring! The crowd actually begins cheering the Insane Tweener, as he sets the ladder up in the center of the ring and begins climbing! However, the Masked Man gets to his feet, after checking on his friends, he sees Rickman beginning to scale the ladder! Using all the speed he can muster, he slides into the ring, leaps up, and slams IL’s back with a forearm smash! Masked Man climbs onto the second rung of the ladder, and sticks his head between Rickman’s legs (!). Masked Man then falls backwards, drilling IL ALL THE WAY DOWN to the mat with an electric chair drop! However, as Mask falls, the ladder falls, right on top of him! With both men receiving bodily harm, they’re slow to get to their feet, but they rise at about the same time. TMM grabs IL by the back of the head, runs forward, and drives his head into the top turnbuckle! As Luchador stumbles back, Masked Fury traps his arms in a double chickenwing and twists around for his Unprettier, but NO! Rickman shoves him off, and Masked Man goes running…

 

*CLANG!*

 

…tripping over the ladder in the process and falling flat on his face!

 

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Riley notes.

 

“Hardly, Bobbo,” Comet defends, “it was not as embarrassing as being pwn3d by Michael Craven and his enormous rod!”

 

“…I hate you.”

 

With Mask on his stomach, IL runs to the ropes, leaps onto them, and springs off, flipping backwards with an Asai Moonsault…but MASK MOVES OUT OF THE WAY!

 

…and IL lands on his feet! Masked Man crawls to the ropes and pulls himself up, turns around…and eats a right hook! A left jab! A kick to the kneecap! Right hook! Left jab! Et al! Finally, with Mask seeing stars, IL lifts the ladder up…and SMASHES IT ON HIS HEAD!

 

*CRASH!*

 

Our Sexual Maskosaurus looks like he’s about to collapse, but IL drops the ladder, traps him in a front facelock, and falls back, nailing a perfect EVENFLOW DDT ON THE LADDER! Masked Man crawls into a fetal position, holding his head, and Rickman decides to set up the ladder and claim the prize! He gets the first rung, the second, the third, he’s still climbing…he’s at the top!

 

HE GRABS THE BRIEFCASE!

 

Well, he has his grubby hands on it, at least. Anyway, Masked Man, on his knees, sees this, and, from the bottom of the ladder, he pushes up on the climbing device, sending it TUMBLING OVER! Luchador goes FLYING off, SPREAD EAGLED (is there any other way to gracefully fall?) and lands CROTCH FIRST ACROSS THE TOP ROPE!

 

 

*CHIIIIIIIIIIING!*

 

“OOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

The ladder is leaning against the same ropes as IL is ‘hanging out with his wang out (metaphorically)’ on, so Masked Man, summoning up strength and speed, runs ‘up’ the inclined ladder, swings his leg out, and nails an EXCELLENT~ enzuiguri to the back of IL’s head, sending BOTH men down to the floor (IL because of the blow, TMM because of his momentum).

 

“That was an amazingly disgusting fall!” Comet exclaims, “and probably dumb on Masked Man’s part. He just took a HECK of a lot out of his body right there!”

 

“Who are you to say such a thing? You don’t know Masked Man,” Riley argues, “the only thing you two have in common is you are both afraid to show your face in public.”

 

“It’s not just ‘in public’, Bobbo. It’s a lifestyle.”

 

Both men lie on the floor, for what seems like an eternity! However, Luchador is the fresher of the two, and he’s able to slowly, but surely, get to his feet! He grabs TMM by the head and brings HIM up, sending him back into the ring for some odd reason! With the ladder still propped up in the same position, Rickman stands behind Mask and laces his arms through his in a full nelson. He then runs towards the ladder, pushes off of it, twists around, and lands the BRINK OF INSANITY…no, Masked Man drops to his knees, halting the move! IL releases the full nelson and, to stop the Romanian, he runs to the opposite ropes. As he comes back, though, Masked Man rolls onto his back and uses his legs to flip Rickman into the air, over, and ONTO THE LADDER with a monkey flip!

 

*CRASH!*

 

Mask scrapes IL off the ladder, picks the device up, and sets it up in the middle of the ring, in line with the turnbuckles! He begins climbing up the ladder, but some how, Rickman gets to his feet, and begins climbing up the opposite side! The two reach the top of the ladder at the very same time, and begin exchanging punches! Rickman obviously has more skill with fisticuffs, and nails the masked face of his opponent with ROUGH, AWFUL (in a good way) punches, but Mask is able to shake this off, grab Luchador’s head, and slam it into the top of the ladder! With IL dazed, Mask climbs up another step, and then FLIPS OVER the top of the ladder, GRABBING IL AND FLIPPING OVER HIM, landing feet first on the mat and SLAMMING Rickman with a SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB…INTO THE TURNBUCKLE!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

Rickman’s skull may be shattered, but that’s the norm for tonight, and Masked Man shoos the birds in his head away for a moment, long enough to straighten the ladder, and begin climbing! IL’s eyes flutter, and he looks up, seeing Masked Man climb up, rung by rung, closer and closer!

 

He reaches up!

 

 

…no, he’s too low!

 

 

 

Another rung!

 

 

He reaches!

 

 

Still too low!

 

 

The last rung!

 

He reaches!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s still reaching!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

REACHING EVEN CLOSER!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HIS HANDS ARE ON THE BRIEFCASE!

 

 

 

IL PULLS HIMSELF UP TO HIS FEET!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MASKED MAN TUGS AT THE BRIEFCASE!

 

 

 

 

 

IL FALLS FORWARD, HITTING THE LADDER!

 

 

 

 

 

 

LOOK AT ALL THIS DRAMATIC SPACING!

 

 

 

 

 

THE LADDER TOPPLES OVER!

 

 

 

 

 

 

MASKED MAN FALLS!

 

 

 

 

BUT HE’S GOT THE MOTHERFUCKING BRIEFCASE!

 

 

HE CROTCHES HIMSELF ON THE ROPES!

 

 

 

 

 

 

BUT HE HAS THE BRIEFCASE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

*DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING*

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon cries, his voice growing hoarse, “Masked Man has defeated Insane Luchador, winning the FIVE WOUNDS GAUNTLET 3 to 2! CONGRATULATIONS, MASKED MAN!”

 

Bob Saget, Dave Coulier, and John Stamos rush to the ring, pull Masked Man off the ropes, and hold him up on his shoulders!

 

Everywhere you look!

Everywhere you go! (There’s a heart!)

There's a heart!

A hand to hold onto!

Everywhere you look!

Everywhere you go!

There's a face!

Of somebody who needs you!

Everywhere you look!

 

When you're lost out there and you're all alone,

A light is waiting to carry you home!

Everywhere you look!

Everywhere you look!

 

IL slides out of the ring, disappointed. Poor IL.

 

“Masked Man has FINALLY won the gauntlet!” Comet calls, “and what a way to win! That was an AMAZING powerbomb, and I’m surprised Citizen Rickman was even able to get up after that!”

 

“Finally, his precious briefcase is safe from all harm! This is truly a glorious day!”

 

Masked Man raises his arms (and his briefcase) above his head, showering himself in praise! As the Full House Krew lets him down, Masked Man clutches his briefcase, and Bob Saget grabs a microphone.

 

First, Dave Coulier grabs it from him.

 

“I was wishing you would win, Mask.”

 

“Me too, Mask.” Stamos agrees, and then, “Man, I am so fucking hot.”

 

“It seems like part of us was wishing,” Saget agrees, “But we stuck together and got through it. Just like we always will. Because we are a family. And families get through these times together.”

 

GROUP HUG!

 

Now, isn’t that a beautiful way to end?

 

Sadly, there’s a 60-minute Iron Man match up next.

[the.weej 0]

All day fans have waited outside the arena, watching as wrestlers and the crew arrive through their own special entrance. The fans cheer for them all, regardless of personal opinion. The chance to be so close to their idols in such an every day setting sends many of them into a frenzy of screams and photographic flashbulb pops. The less reserved can only grip their fingers into the fence that separates themselves from their ideas of glory of being an SWF superstar, but little do they know just how much they have in common with those arriving in limousines and tour buses. As each wrestler steps out of his vehicle of choice, he sees the evening ahead of him as just another night under the lights and surrounded by all of those who have come for the show, but leave for the reality.

 

But every single person inside and outside of the arena knows that tonight isn’t about the show anymore. Those wrestlers are real people and not simply puppets guided by the strings of the fans. Battles will be waged, grudges will be settled, and fated paths will cross…but when the dust has settled the clock will show the world that the 13th Hour has arrived.

 

Backstage, workers file past the many dressing rooms of the SWF talent, all preparing for or recovering from their night’s work. Just as the Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley begin to speak about the next match, the wrestlers get their calls that it is show time.

 

“Well, true believers…” The Comet starts off, “the time has truly come for Alan Clark and Landon Maddix to step…”

 

“Clark! You’re up!” the voice of one of the many SWF road agents, Ted Flink, echoes through the Wayward Son locker room. Edward James sits idly by watching a monitor as Alan Clark steps from behind a wall in the back of the room and heads toward the door where Flink stands, grabbing his jacket and hat as he walks out the door.

 

“…these two men are going to go into that ring for one hour and when that time is up only one man can be victorious!” The Comet finishes as Riley looks on, a smile on his face.

 

“Maddix! Let’s go!” comes the voice of Andrea Montgomery, another road agent, as Maddix lays across a bench in his locker room, Megan Skye sitting over him and massaging his neck and shoulders.

 

“Good work summing up the rules, super genius!” Riley blurts out sarcastically, “you should take Funyon’s job or something!” Even during such a special event, the demeanor of Bobby Riley is nearly impossible to change.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Maddix replies as Skye steps off of the Disciple’s back and helps him to his feet. “You could have at least knocked first!” he continues as Megan brushes him off and they stride to the door, ignoring Montgomery completely as they head toward the entranceway, but she does her job anyway – following closely behind them.

 

“I don’t see why you always have to be so rude, Robert. I was just stating the facts.” Comet retaliates, but Riley is right there once again.

 

“You were stating the obvious! Everyone in this building knows what an Iron Man Match is and if they don’t Funyon is going to be in that ring in about forty five seconds and he’s going to tell them.”

 

“You have become quite the buzz kill…” the same phrase that leaves the Comet’s mouth also passes through Montgomery’s mind as she works to pass the arrogant duo and lead them toward the ring, while not far away, Alan walks behind Ted Flink, keeping his thoughts to himself. Clark’s nearly meditative trance is broken as Flink feels the need to speak out loud as the two men walk down the hallway.

 

“Dead man walking.” Flink calls out with a grin, drawing a smug smirk from Clark who can only try to keep from knocking the poor road agent onto his face as they near the ring, where Comet and Riley continue their bantering…

 

*GONG*

 

“What the hell?” Riley looks around, wondering where the loud sound had echoed from, even though there happens to be a giant clock tower over the entranceway. The hands rest at twelve, preparing itself for the following match as Funyon steps into the ring. After motioning toward the clock, Funyon begins his announcements.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…the following contest is our SIXTY MINUTE IRON MAN MATCH and is for the S-W-F TRIPLE CROWN CHAMPIONSHIP!” The loud booming voice of Funyon causes an even louder boom from the crowd, who stand from their seats and begin to cheer wildly as Funyon continues…

 

“Under Iron Man rules...the superstar to collect the most pinfall, submission, knockout, or disqualification victories in the sixty minute time limit will be declared the WINNER and the Triple Crown Champion!” Another loud cheer erupts as, backstage, Alan Clark walks to the curtain and awaits his cue to step out from behind the curtain as Ted Flink walks the other direction, keeping the House of Todd crew away from Clark. He does not want to be responsible for ruining one of the marquee match-ups of the evening and he has no true idea about what they are willing to put themselves through for victory, especially when they have the next hour to release seven months of frustration on each other.

 

Alan stands by behind the curtain, his heart beating rapidly and his mind swirls on the edge of insanity as thoughts of the next sixty minutes race through his head. But suddenly his thoughts are derailed as…

 

ON MY WAYWARD SON…

There’ll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don’t you cry no more…

 

BOOM!!

 

As the pyrotechnics explode over his head, Alan steps onto the ramp and drops his head, holding his body in place and looking toward the floor, trying to regain his lost focus as his music blares all around him and Funyon’s voice can be heard once more from the ring.

 

“Introducing first the challenger…he hails from Long Beach, California and weighs in at two hundred and twenty five pounds…”

 

…another deep breathe from Clark as his head slowly pans upward to bring the ring into his sights…

 

“…One half of the Wayward Sons…. “

 

“…just keep breathing…”

 

“…ALAAAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAAARK!!”

 

“…here we go.” Alan finally begins his walk to the ring as he tries to concentrate on the task at hand, but the thousands of fans in attendance aren’t helping him much, as cheers echo all around him. A smirk appears on Clark’s face as he looks out over the audience, wondering if they have any idea what they are about to witness.

 

“You just have to wonder, Robert, if these fans have any idea what they are about to witness?” Great minds seem to think alike as the Comet’s voice echoes Alan’s thoughts.

 

“They are going to witness the ascension of Landon Maddix from the amazing superstar that he is to complete MEGASTAR after he wipes the ring with Alan Clark! This is going to be great! I should have popcorn…where’s that vendor?” Bobby raises his head and looks into the crowd, but sits down after a few seconds, distraught.

 

“Too bad…” Comet remarks to his partner’s actions as Alan gets to ringside and climbs the stairs and into the ring, keeping his jacket and hat on as he looks out over the crowd once more.

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

Four more loud arcs of green pyro fire off and over Alan’s head as his music fades down and out, leaving Alan and Funyon in the ring surrounded my only the murmuring that seems nearly constant in the sold-out arena.

 

As Alan faces the entranceway, Landon Maddix and Megan Skye walk toward the curtain. Landon’s body is still tense, though his calm facial expression hides the anxiety that goes through every wrestler’s head before they step into this kind of match. No doubt Alan Clark feels it as well as he stands in the ring, his body still beaten and bruised from the last few weeks of torment and training for this one night.

 

Maddix knows full well that all the training in the world can not prepare a man for this, but he gave it his best, and win or lose the respect he gains will be more than enough of a reward for his work. On the other hand, it may very well kill him to lose the championship belts he holds close to himself at this very moment standing behind the curtain.

 

Everyone’s attention is suddenly drawn back to the entranceway as a faint guitar riff begins to fill the background noise of the arena, and they all know what they are about to hear as the lights dim down to near darkness. The guitar begins to heighten as the drums come in, finally releasing the energy in three booming words…

 

 

PREPARE…FOR…LANDON!

 

…WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH…

 

 

*DUM DUM*

 

The sold-out crowd metaphorically straps themselves in as “Megalomaniac” explodes out from the PA. Landon takes one last deep breathe before he sees the blue lights emanating through the curtain, giving him his cue to step out into the entranceway and face the eyes of the thousands watching from inside the building. Coming into view, Landon is met by the usual jeers, though in his mind they all seem that much more intense as he stares down the long aisle toward the ring.

 

Landon’s arms shoot from his sides almost involuntarily, showing off his gold and drawing even more boos from the audience around him. Finally a burst of adrenaline kicks in and Maddix’s trademark grin appears as he takes his first steps out from underneath the clock tower and turns to look over his shoulder, watching Megan as she comes out from behind the curtain looking cheerful as always, possibly not completely understanding what Landon has gotten himself into. Maddix turns back toward the ring and starts his walk, his eyes trying to stay focused but constantly moving in all directions, spying every little detail around him as Funyon’s voice booms throughout the arena…

 

“And his opponent…being accompanied to the ring by Megan Skye…he hails from Huron, South Dakota and weighs in at two hundred and ten pounds… he is the S-W-F TRIPLE CROWN CHAMPION and a Disciple of Todd…”

 

“…I never get enough of that…”

 

“…LANDON… LA CU-CA-RAAAAACHAAAAA… MAAAAAADDIX!!”

 

The boos come down once more as Landon hops up to the apron and turns to Skye, extending his hand and balancing himself so as to help Megan up onto the apron as well. She does so with little problem, but seeing Alan standing in the middle of the ring, Megan thinks twice about entering and instead waits on the apron as Landon climbs to the middle turnbuckle and drops his head towards the floor before he hears…

 

“HEY… MEG-A-LOMANIAC”

 

A few fans close to ringside can’t help but chant along to the song as Landon raises his championships in the air, making sure to point out each one to those around him, drawing a little bit of applause for what he has accomplished. Maddix grins at the few adoring fans as he hops down from the apron and climbs into the ring, leaving Megan to simply hop back down to the floor and take her place. She watches Maddix’s every move as he stands across the ring from Clark, who has yet to make much of any move since Landon began his walk to the ring moments before. The champion keeps his eyes on the challenger as well, though he can’t help but look back toward the clock ominously standing over them, showing them a small glimpse into their immediate future.

 

“Alan Clark is a wall of stone right now. His eyes are burning straight through Landon Maddix and the gold he holds in his hands” comments the Comet as Landon looks, puzzled, at his rival.

 

“Well he has to move! You can’t be a wrestler and not move! What is going on in that guy’s head and honestly…do we really even want to know?” Riley’s rant is abruptly cut short as Alan finally makes a move, keeping his eyes pinned on the champion as he moves his hands up to his hat and slowly slides it off. With the hat off, even more determination can be seen through Alan’s eyes and his focus has undoubtedly returned. Landon’s eyes, on the other hand, widen a bit as he looks over at Clark, again re-thinking his decision to accept the match, but as Alan removes his jacket and senior referee Nick Soapdish hold the three championship titles above his head, everything seems to change for Landon Maddix…

 

“…this is going to be great!” this thought in Landon’s head brings an overly large smile to his face as he rushes across the ring, nearly knocking Soapdish over to get to Alan, who is just turning back around toward the ring.

 

Smack!

 

*GOOOONG*

 

The clock begins to move as Clark hits the floor. His mind had stopped concentrating on his opponent, and was instead focused on handing his jacket and hat off a waiting ringside crewmember. This momentary mental lapse had caused him to take a boot straight to the side of the head that sent him through the ropes and down to the ground. Even the referee was in a bit of shock as Landon slid his body under the bottom rope and hit his feet on the outside the ring. Alan started to recover, but Landon made sure that Clark stayed off his game.

 

“And Landon Maddix starts things off in prime fashion, kicking Alan Clark when his back was turned!” The Comet points an accusing finger toward Maddix, who simply ignores the superheroes cries as he begins the hour with a head start, bringing his forearm down repeatedly into Alan’s back and shoulders.

 

…”ONE”…

 

Soapdish’s voice rings out over the calamity as he begins to count the two individuals out of the ring. In Alan’s mind, the referee seems distant as he tries to get back to a vertical base and repay Landon for his opening shots.

 

”Clark is just in a state of shock! He’s completely off his game now.” The call from Riley seems to be a correct one, as Alan reels after a hard European uppercut and finds his back up against the steel barricade.

 

…”THREE”…

 

”Come on, Alan!”, “Kick his ass!”, and other assorted phrases emanate from the fans behind Clark as he lies against the railing and works at regaining his focus. Landon looks at Megan and gives a smile as he backs a few steps away from Alan and crouches his body down.

 

…”FOUR”…

 

“It seems Citizen Maddix has a plan…” The Comet remarks as Landon sets his sights on Alan, mental crosshairs aiming dead on Clark’s chest.

 

“Landon looks like he’s about to run the hundred yard dash in five yards!” Riley screams as Landon fires to his feet and rushes toward Alan…

 

…”FIVE”…

 

THUD!

 

“Nooooooooooo!”

 

Riley’s disappointment seems to echo through Landon’s head, as well as Megan’s face, as the Disciple finds his opponent MIA from the barricade, putting him shoulder-first into the steel as Clark dives out of the way from the spear just in time, hitting the mat on his side and sliding to safety as Maddix connects with the railing and drops to the floor.

 

…”SIX”…

 

Soapdish continues his count on the inside as Alan gets to his feet and walks to the downed Maddix. Megan comes around the corner of the ring to try and check on her man, but one stern look from Alan tells her to back away.

 

“Megan Skye was going to try and interfere!”

 

…”SEVEN”…

 

“No she wasn’t! She was going to try and help Maddix! That’s her job!” Riley fights back as Megan passes the announce table, stepping backwards and out of harm’s way as Clark pulls Maddix to his feet and, with a audible grunt, tries to whip him into the apron. Maddix is able to reverse the momentum, however, sending Clark’s body crashing into the apron and eliciting a small groan from the Wayward Son.

 

“Ha! Alan Clark thought he was on the offensive, but once again Maddix triumphs! Praise Todd!”

 

“Why can’t you praise Maddix, Robert?”

 

…”EIGHT”…

 

Riley is stunned speechless by Comet as Maddix rolls into the ring and onto his knees, keeping his eye on the outside of the ring, watching Alan’s every move.

 

“It seems Landon Maddix is hoping a ten count can get him an early point here. I must say that is good strategy.”

 

“See, you are starting to see the light!” Comet brushes off Riley’s retort as Alan rolls his body to face the ring and starts to slide into the ring. Landon senses the possibility of losing the point and goes on the attack once more, sending kicks into Clark’s upper body as he works his way under the bottom rope. Much to the Disciple’s dismay, the kicks are not enough, and with another hard pull on the canvas, Alan finds himself back in the ring, breaking the count just as “NINE!” leaves the mouth of the referee.

 

“The strategy didn’t pay off the way Citizen Maddix planned, and Clark is getting to his feet!” The Comet nearly yells the last words out loud as Clark stands to his feet and his eyes lock onto Maddix. Landon’s eyes, on the other hand, grow once more and the gears in his head click and whirr as he formulates another strategy.

 

“Speed.” The voice in Landon’s head says as the Disciple moves in, gunning past Clark like a bullet and hitting the ropes behind him. Alan does not even know what hit him as he turns around, catching two feet square in the jaw. The force of the dropkick sends Clark stumbling backwards, but he stays on his feet nonetheless. Maddix is back on his feet in the blink of an eye and takes another run, hitting Clark shoulder-first in the gut and lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing into the corner. Landon does not let up easily as he pulls his shoulder back and brings it in again, jamming it into Alan’s stomach once more.

 

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

 

The chants begin to swell around the arena as Megan spins her head from side to side and places her hands over her ears, trying to block out the bad voices of the fans around her. In the ring, Alan’s right foot comes up as Landon comes in for another hit, causing both men to take a blow at near the same time.

 

“Low blow! Low blow!” Riley calls out, but as Landon falls from the corner he is clearly holding his stomach, and not any other part of his body, in pain.

 

“I don’t think so, Robert. That was a perfectly legal kick right there.” Comet makes sure to point out Riley’s mistake as Alan comes out of the corner holding his stomach, trying to shake off the pain as he pulls Landon up, but the Disciple breaks away and spins to his feet, keeping himself a good distance from the grip of Clark. Maddix shakes his head at Clark…

 

“Not today, this is my day!” Maddix can be seen mouthing the words toward his opponent, causing the Wayward Son to smirk and take a step forward and move himself closer to where Landon stands. The Disciple shakes his head in defiance as he takes a step back, keeping a few feet between them.

 

“This is a terrible game of cat and mouse…” Riley comments as Alan shrugs and begins to walk forward. Landon seems frightened as he steps back slowly…

 

Oomph!

 

…the back-stepping was only a temporary diversion for Maddix, as the move caused Alan to speed up and run right into Landon’s trap as he brings his knee up and straight into Clark, causing him to double over from the blow.

 

Alan has always tried to block out the pain that has come with the wrestling business, and for many years he was able to completely ignore it and bleed for hours on end. In his mind, he only went back to that place when there was no other option. Tonight, in front of this sold-out crowd, there may be no other option but then to find that place and go there, block out the pain, and work toward defeating Landon Maddix and leaving the arena as the Triple Crown Champion.

 

As Landon pulled Alan up to his feet, he could feel something different about the man he held in his hands. He had no idea what that feeling was, but he knew he most likely wouldn’t like it. Landon had watched backstage as Alan Clark had defeated his mentor for one of the belts he currently holds, and he felt the pain through his body when he lost another of the belts. Only one belt truly remained for Alan to take away from the House of Todd, and Landon was going to do everything he could to keep it in his possession for as long as possible.

 

“Landon Maddix looks confused in there right now!” The Comet calls out as Landon holds Alan by the neck, looking around for what to do next. The answer comes quickly, as Maddix pulls Alan into a front face-lock and hooks his waist for a suplex.

 

“This match is all about tearing your opponent apart, piece by piece. Alan’s chest and stomach have to be burning from the repeated shoulder thrusts, but now it’s time to work on the back with some suplex magic!” Riley remarks as Landon lifts Alan off his feet, but the Wayward Son goes deadweight and slumps down onto his knees. Landon’s face shows anger as he uses his free arm and brings it down, clubbing Clark across the shoulders. Landon goes back for another suplex, but once more Alan blocks, falling completely out of the face-lock as he drops to the canvas.

 

“Citizen Clark has Houdini-ed his way out of two suplex attempts…WAIT!” The Comet yells as Landon stomps his foot in aggravation and goes back to the facelock, only for Alan’s arms to come up and catch him around the waist, lifting him off the ground and holding him in the air over his shoulder.

 

“NO! NO!” Riley’s words are no doubt passing through Landon’s mind as Alan rolls his body backwards, driving Landon’s back into the canvas and bridging through for a cover!

 

“Northern Sunset!! And a COVER!”

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

Landon instinctively kicks out, thrusting his body upwards and causing Alan’s bridge to crumble and fall. Maddix quickly rolls away from Alan, but the feisty superstar rolls right behind him and the two get up at near the same time…

 

…but Landon has no idea who stands behind him.

 

“Turn around! Turn around!” Riley shouts as Landon shows off his grin by the ropes, telling the world how great he is for kicking out of the pin. The happiness and elation are gone in an instant, though, as Landon feels a breathe on his shoulder…and it’s not one that a man his age would enjoy.

 

Landon’s pulse begins to quicken. He knows who waits just behind him, breathing down his neck a warm air – but this air sends chills down his spine as he wonders exactly what he can do to make it out of the situation.

 

“Citizen Maddix has found himself in a place where he does not want to be!”

 

“Boy, you sure are quick on the uptake, super sleuth!” Riley responds to Comet’s remark as Landon begins to turn his head, looking over his right shoulder to find Alan Clark stare him dead in the eyes. With only a few seconds to react, Landon swings his body in the opposite direction and ducks down, throwing his leg out and trying to sweep Clark right off his feet!

 

As Landon finishes the sweep he winds up in the same position that he started, quite literally, as Alan still stands behind him, having hopped over the sweeping feet of the Disciple. Landon turns now, thinking that is foe has hit the canvas, but the turn is abruptly cut short, as Alan wraps his arms around Landon’s waist, catching him from behind.

 

“Oh shit”

 

It’s almost if everyone in the arena can hear the thoughts of Landon Maddix as Clark pulls him off his feet and arches his back, dropping Landon straight down and slamming him almost head-first into the mat with a german suplex. Alan tries to hold the bridge into the pin, and Soapdish drops for the count.

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

Again, Landon is quick to kick out of the pin attempt and rolls his body backwards, landing on his knees. Alan, a few precious feet away, has rolled onto his stomach and works to get back to his feet, and the Disciple seizes the chance…

 

Smack!

 

Landon leaps into action, jumping into the air and sending his leg out and through the air, bringing it to knee-on-skull contact with a hard Shining Wizard. The force of the blow puts both men on the mat, but Landon is up in a flash, using every second to his advantage as Clark holds the back of his head.

 

“This could be the opening Citizen Maddix needs to capitalize!” The Comet cannot help but comment on the situation in the ring as Landon pulls Alan to his feet and shoves him into the closest corner. As Alan tries to shake out the cobwebs, Landon moves behind Alan and seats himself on the top turnbuckle, hooking his arm down and around Clark’s neck. Before Clark knows what is going on, Landon leaps from the turnbuckle and twists his body through the air, coming down hard on his back.

 

Thud!

 

The effects of the drop are more noticeable in Alan’s mind, as the back of his head bounces off the canvas, unable to move anymore than a few millimeters due to the Disciple’s arm still locked around his throat.

 

“He’s got him!” Riley yells into his headset as Landon jerks his body, getting his legs into position and holding Clark by the neck as he locks into a bodyscissors. Landon’s joy of the submission quickly passes though, as Clark is too close to the ropes and only needs to stretch out his hand to reach the bottom rope, clutching it as Soapdish stands over the Disciple, yelling down at him to break the hold.

 

One! Two! Three! Four! Fi-

 

Landon holds out to the very last possible moment before releasing Clark from his precarious position. Clark instinctively rolls toward the apron, trying to regain his breath and get the blood flowing back to his head, but soon he feels his body being pulled away from the ropes and into the middle of the ring, where Maddix falls on top of him and hooks his leg up, trying for a cover!

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Alan gets his shoulder up just before the three, releasing a giant gasp as Landon moves and his body shoots up off the mat. Clark holds his chest for a moment, trying once more to regain his breath, but Maddix knows that every second counts, and as fast as he is on his feet he is pulling Alan up with him, keeping himself on the offensive as much as possible.

 

Alan Clark stands on his feet now, but his mind seems to have gone elsewhere. His body remains upright but sways curiously from side to side as Maddix lets him go. Even Landon himself seems a bit awestruck at Clark’s reactions to the repeated shots to the head, and in noticing he chooses to use the migraine Clark seems to have developed as much as he can to help him.

 

“Things don’t look well in Alan Clark’s world right now!” Riley laughs as, with a kiss of his closed fist, Landon rears back and looks to send a punch straight into Alan’s forehead.

 

“I don’t think so” The thought that moves through Alan’s head seems to be heard all around the arena as cheers begin to rain down onto the ring, or of course they could be cheering for the fact that Alan’s hand has come up from his side and caught Landon by the wrist, keeping his fist only inches away from his face.

 

“How did he do THAT?!” Riley yells, nearly falling out of his chair as Alan throws Landon’s arm away. Maddix takes the shove in a bit of jest, spinning his body around and keeping his hand outstretched…

 

…and catching Alan Clark right in the temple with a backhand!

 

“A beautiful counter there, I can’t deny that, sends Alan Clark reeling into the ropes, and Citizen Maddix doesn’t look like he is done yet!” The Comet remarks as Landon pulls Alan off the ropes and whips him across the ring. As Alan hits the opposite ropes and bounces off, Maddix moves forward a few steps and leaps into the air, bending his arm and pushing his elbow out, catching his foe right in the face!

 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Riley cheers as Alan’s body falls to the mat in a heap and Landon lands perfectly on his feet. Most would sense the urge to hit a gymnastic pose in the moment, but Landon’s mind is elsewhere, specifically going for another pin, as he jumps up and lays out his body, using his elbow as a weapon once more…driving it straight into Clark’s chest. Maddix can be seen flashing a smile towards the camera as he lays his body on top of Alan’s, not even bothering to hook the leg as Soapdish drops to his knees for the count…

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

Alan kicks out once more, rolling his body out from underneath Landon and going toward the ropes. The speed of Clark catches Maddix off guard as the Disciple’s head nearly bounces off the mat from the quickness of the movement.

 

“I don’t think Maddix was expecting that kind of move from Clark there, look at him!” The Comet points to his monitor to a show a close-up on the face of a surprised Landon Maddix, who turns and gets to his feet, looking across the ring to find Alan on his knees, pulling his body up with the ropes, looking to have gained his second wind. His eyes show renewed vigor as they lock onto those of the Disciple, and for a moment the two pause…both share a knowing smile.

 

“What the hell?!” Riley blurts out as he watches the two men in the ring, less than ten minutes into the match they have stopped in their tracks and both seem to have gained a small level of respect for each other. For Clark, he knows that Maddix is stubborn and yet would do anything to prove a point. For Maddix, Clark has proved that he has what it takes to win and will use more than just his physical skill to do so. As if by telepathy, Clark and Maddix both shake their heads toward each other and make their move, each taking steps closer and closer to the other.

 

“What now? Are they going to kiss?” Riley interest is piqued as Alan and Landon stand only a few feet apart now, and the crowd stays silent as the two men freeze once more, as if they are sizing the other up.

 

“Your guess is as good as mine right now, Robert.”

 

“Good thing they have an hour, they sure are taking their time in there.” Riley responds just as Maddix moves his arm out, extending his right hand. Even Megan seems a little shocked as Landon stands there, asking his opponent for a handshake.

 

“He’s asking for a handshake?!” The Comet seems shocked.

 

“Yep. Twilight Zone…woooooEEEEEEoooooooo” Riley continues as Alan stands there for a moment and looks out to the crowd, almost as if he is asking for approval. The fans, too, are pretty confused by the Disciple’s actions, and can only offer mixed signals for the Wayward Son.

 

“there’ll be peace when you are done” the song lyric flashes through Alan’s mind as his hand comes out and the two shake hands in the center of the ring, drawing another loud reaction from the crowd.

 

“It’s a scene taken straight from the final SJL show, as Landon Maddix and Alan Clark, two heated rivals over the last few months, are shaking hands!” The Comet calls the somewhat historic moment as Soapdish moves in between them, telling that that they are involved in a wrestling match, and doing things of that nature would be appreciated.

 

The two share a little grin toward the ref and back away from each other. As their eyes meet once again, a renewed sense of the battle at hand comes across them, and they seem to be prepared for the rest of the hour and all that lie past it.

 

“Well I’ve seen some weird things in the SWF but that had to be in the top ten right there. Alan Clark and Landon Maddix…SHAKING HANDS?!” Bobby Riley’s call looks to have come straight from the mind of Megan Skye, who looks toward her man, completely confused, but with a soft smile, Landon seems to calm his manager. She can only return the smile as Alan and Landon move into each other and into a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and immediately Landon uses his speed to his advantage, spinning out of the tie-up and around Clark, locking his right arm into a hammerlock.

 

With his arm being wrenched, Alan slaps over his shoulder, hoping he can catch Maddix in the nose. With the slaps failing, Alan fights through the pain and uses the small strength advantage he has to twist his body out of Landon’s grip and spin himself around, putting the Disciple in the hammerlock as a small bit of revenge. Maddix is not the kind of man to go for simple slaps to get his way, and as Alan pulls the arm farther and farther up his back, Landon takes a chance and sends his free arm shooting back…

 

…and catching the back of Alan’s head! Landon pulls his arm forward, trapping Alan’s head on his shoulder and pinning it there, looking to drive Alan down into a…

 

“Neckbreaker!” Riley yells out, though the call comes prematurely as Alan pushes Landon away, causing the hammerlock to be broken as Landon heads toward the ropes. Maddix hits the ropes and catches himself before turning back around and seeing Alan standing there, urging him to take a shot. Landon isn’t one to deny that kind of invitation and like lightning he shoots across the ring, but the cagey Clark ducks down onto his stomach, leaving the Disciple to hop over his opponent’s back and hit the opposite ropes.

 

Alan is up to his feet quickly as well, but as he turns to face Maddix, all he can see is a giant ball of mass flying straight for him.

 

Wham!

 

“Alan Clark just got Landmined with that running cannonball attack! It seems Citizen Maddix has been studying up on Blanka or something!” The Comet remarks as Alan and Landon crash together, putting Clark down on his back with the two hundred plus pound Disciple laying over him and looking to make a cover…

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

Alan kicks out just after the two, pushing Landon off his chest with as much authority as he can muster.

 

“In this kind of match, every pin attempt could be the difference between winning and losing.” Riley comments as Clark and Maddix get back to their feet, but Landon stays on the attack, catching Alan by the hair and sending his knee up into the Wayward Son’s forehead. The force of the shot sends Alan’s head whiplashing back and putting him back down on the canvas, but he is only down for a second. Clark is not going to let something as petty as a knee to the face keep him from victory on this night, and Landon knows that more than anyone.

 

“Citizen Clark goes down and gets right back up! That’s championship material right there!”

 

“Blasphemy! How dare you say those things in the presence of Triple Crown Landon!” Riley responds in a bout of near fury at Comet as Alan tries to gain some kind of upper hand on the situation, only for Maddix to be right there once more, shoving him hard into the corner and firing in with a plethora of hard chops.

 

Chop! Chop! Chop!

 

Alan’s chest reddens with each passing second, but with a little concentration he is able to reach out and grab Landon by the shoulders, pulling him into the corner as he rushes out, turning the tables on the Disciple.

 

Chop! Chop! Chop!

 

The crowd cheers as Alan unloads his own brand of chopping prowess on Landon’s chest, causing the champion to try and block the shots, only to take another chop straight to his hands.

 

Chop! Chop! Chop!

 

Alan continues, hitting Landon in every conceivable area on his chest as Megan watches on, a look of concern beginning to show on her face, even though the match is barely one-sixth of the way through.

 

“We have just passed the ten minute mark and right now it seems Alan Clark has the advantage, but you have to wonder how long it will last against the Triple Crown CHAMPION” Riley puts loud emphasis on the last word as, if by some crazy coincidence, Landon fires out of the corner and out of Alan’s grasp. The two men turn toward each other, nearly mirroring each other’s exact moves, except Alan doesn’t have his right arm aimed at Landon’s jaw…

 

Oomph!

 

Maddix catches Clark with a hard European uppercut, causing Alan to fall back into the corner where he was moments ago. Alan tries to fight out, but Maddix hits another uppercut, keeping him pinned in. Another and another, and Alan is dazed, his arms laying over the top ropes and keeping him on his feet.

 

Maddix moves out of the corner and to the other side of the ring, and his eyes show that his gears and running and he is formulating a great idea.

 

“This looks like it could be good…” Riley points out as Maddix hops around a bit, seemingly stretching himself out.

 

“Here I come, boy”

 

Landon rushes full speed toward the propped-up Clark, jumping into the air with only a few feet to go, sending his right foot up and into Alan’s temple!

 

Bang!

 

“One Hit Kill! Landon Maddix just used Alan Clark’s own move against him! By Zeus, that sounded like a gunshot!” And sure enough, as Landon gets back to his feet Alan steps out of the corner, walking a few steps before dropping to the canvas, looking like the victim of a sniper shooting.

 

“He’s a genius! Who could have seen that coming! Not Alan Clark that’s for sure!” Riley cheers and continues his ass-kissing ways as Landon drops down and goes for a cover…

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Thr—

 

“Kickout!”

 

Alan’s shoulder gets off the mat just before the three, and for the first time in the match Landon looks aggravated at not getting the pin and the point. Clark, on the other hand, seems to be switching between being relieved at kicking out and being completely pissed that Landon would dare stoop slow low as to use the move on him. As Alan is dragged to his feet, he stumbles a bit, tripping over his own two feet and falling back to the mat, causing Landon to lose his grip. Alan falls onto his stomach and rolls to his back, holding his head and groaning.

 

“Citizen Clark looks to hurt in there! This could be a big break for…WAIT!” Comet is cut off in mid-sentence as Landon reaches down for Alan, only to be met by the Clark’s legs wrapping around his head and pulling him down, flipping him over and putting him down on the mat!

 

“NO!”

 

“By Poseidon’s Spectacles! Did you see that!?” Comet explodes next to a jeering Riley as Alan lands on his stomach and rolls to his side, draping his right arm over the body of Maddix…

 

One!

 

Two!

 

Landon kicks out just as the two is called and moves to get to his feet, brushing himself off with a look of shock on his face.

 

“That shocking expression says it all, true believers! Alan Clark just played eye for an eye, hitting Landon Maddix with a hurricanrana from his back, a move that Maddix has made all his own!”

 

”Its treachery is what it is! We need justice!” This comes from Riley, causing a look of bewilderment from his partner.

 

“Am I rubbing off on you, Robert?” The Comet asks as Alan gets to his knees and stares across at Maddix, smirking. Turnabout is fair play in the world of professional wrestling, and Maddix just learned that lesson all to well.

 

“If Clark has to resort to using Maddix’s own moves to beat him, then Landon should just keep his titles!” Riley continues to complain, but everyone else’s attention is in the ring where Landon and Alan are back on their feet, giving and taking punches like candy. Soapdish tries to get between them, warning repeatedly of the disqualification that he could hand down at any second, but the two men ignore his pleas as the punching continues around him.

 

Alan does finally quit, realizing he is gaining no headway with a right hand constantly pummeling his face, and he ducks out of way and grabs Landon by the wrist, twisting it slightly to give the Disciple a good shot of pain before rearing backwards and spinning around, whipping Maddix across the ring and toward the ropes.

 

Landon hits the ropes hard and bounces back toward Alan, but the two men seem to know what’s coming on both ends, as Maddix throws his arm out for a clothesline and Clark ducks his head out of the way just in time. Landon isn’t done yet, however, as he hits the brakes and spins around, sending his right foot up straight toward Alan’s head!

 

“Superkick!” Both announcers yell in unison, but Alan sees the kick out of the corner of his eye and instinctively reacts, jerking his head back.

 

“He bought it” Maddix thinks as his foot barely gets two feet off the ground before moving back down, and as Alan rights himself Landon leaps into action, literally, as he leaves the ground and hops up onto Clark’s shoulders. Wrapping his legs tightly around Alan’s head, Landon falls backwards, flipping through and causing Alan to be tossed forward and slammed down, leaving himself in perfect position for Maddix to fall back and pin him to the mat!

 

One!

 

“Rana! Cover!”

 

Two!

 

 

 

Three!

 

 

No!!

 

*DING DING*

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…as a result of a pinfall…the score is One to Zero in favor of the SWF Triple Crown Champion…Landon Maddix!”

 

Funyon’s voice booms and is nearly drowned out by the jeers of the sold-out crowd. Backstage, Edward James is on his feet now, but as the replay of the pin shows, Alan’s shoulders left the canvas just after Soapdish counted the three. Everyone in the arena knows that Landon won the point fair and square.

 

----------

Landon Maddix – 1

Alan Clark – 0

----------

 

“And the first point goes to Citizen Maddix…although Clark nearly escaped!”

 

“But he didn’t! Landon Maddix is on the road to victory!”

 

“There is still over forty-five minutes left in the match, Robert. Plenty of time for Alan to catch up.” The Comet speaks the truth, and even as Alan gets to his feet he knows that he didn’t kick out in time. Landon throws his challenger a quick smile as they square off again, but this time it seems the determination in Alan Clark’s eyes has been magnified ten fold, and he doesn’t take them off of Maddix, even as he goes over to Megan and the two share a little celebratory banter between them.

 

“You still have a long way to go, champ, but I know you can do it!”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m prepared. I’m not losing to him again no matter what.” Landon reassures Megan before turning back to Clark, who is still silently watching from the other side of the ring, almost holding himself back from delivering a cheap shot to Maddix just like the champ did at the beginning of the match.

 

Instead, Alan takes a calm stroll across the ring, causing the sirens to go off through Landon’s head as he begins to back away, putting his hands up in protest.

 

“This can’t be good…” Riley points out, and no doubt the same thoughts are flashing in Landon’s eyes as his back hits the turnbuckles, leaving him trapped in the corner with Clark closing in. The smirk showing on Alan’s face seems a bit too calm, and Landon easily sees right through it.

 

“For Landon Maddix, that hurricanrana may be the last pin he ever makes as champion!” this call comes for the Cyclone Comet as, in Alan’s mind, all he can see ahead of him is victory with only a Triple Crown roadblock in the way.

 

“Hey, you win some, you lose some!” Landon loudly points out as he stays pinned in the corner, but Alan does not seem to head the words as he is only a few feet away now, his steps slow and deliberate.

 

Oomph!

 

With nowhere else to go, the Disciple decides to go straight for his opponent, coming up and driving a knee straight into Clark’s stomach. Landon pauses to see what damage he has done, but Alan simply stands up, his eyes growing larger each second.

 

“I don’t even think it phased him!” Riley screams, “Get out of the ring, Landon! He’s going to kill you!” The overreaction from Bobby almost rings true as Alan reaches out and grabs Landon by the head, pulling him down fast and locking in a front facelock. Maddix tries to fight away, pushing all he can, but he quickly finds his head falling faster than it should…and then stopping as it crashes into the canvas!

 

“What a DDT! He could have dented the ring!” The Comet exclaims as Landon immediately rolls to the outside, leaving Clark to get to his feet alone, unaware of where the champion had scurried off to.

 

”Yes! Go talk to Megan, maybe she can help…wait…what am I saying?!”

 

As Riley blathers at the announce table, Clark looks to the outside to see Maddix heading toward the timekeeper and his championships. Alan slides out of the ring quickly, looking to cut off any of Landon’s cheating ways, but instead of going for the gold, the champ shoves away the timekeeper and grabs his chair, closing it and turning toward Clark.

 

“Somebody get that chair off him!” The Comet yells as Soapdish leans out of the ropes, thinking more about the safety of Alan than making any kind of count on either man. With the ref screaming in his ear, Landon raises the chair above his head and takes aim at Alan’s head. Clark can do nothing but put one hand up, almost begging for Maddix to strike him.

 

“He is insane! He’s asking Landon to clean his clock!”

 

“Of course! He’d gain a point for that and the score would be tied!”

 

“I never thought of that! Landon! Don’t do it!” Riley screams out toward Landon, but it’s too late as the champion swings the chair down, bringing both of Alan’s hands up, trying to block the blow…

 

Guh!

 

“Ahahahahahahahahhahaha! Yes!” Riley slaps his hands off the announce table and laughs out loud as Landon stops the chair in mid-swing and sends his foot up instead, catching Alan in the stomach. Maddix then drops the chair on the padded floor and grabs Alan by the head before turning to the ref, telling him that he did nothing wrong. Soapdish knows Maddix is right, and can do nothing but start to go into his count.

 

…”ONE”…

 

Soapdish counts as Landon, still clutching Clark by the head, runs toward the ring steps and it is obvious to all what he is planning to do.

 

*GOOOOOONG*

 

“Forty Five minutes to go as Citizen Clark is about to get dented against the steel ring steps!” The Comet makes sure to explain to all those that might happen to be blind, but as Landon gets closer Clark falls to his knees and shoves forward, sending Landon into the steps knee-first instead!

 

“He can’t do that!” Riley protests as Maddix bounces off the steel steps and does a near front flip, landing on his back on the bottom stair, as Clark stands back up behind him, the smile somewhat faded but still noticeable as he walks toward Landon’s downed body and grabs him by the right ankle, pulling his leg up and over his head.

 

…”TWO”…

 

Alan holds the leg for a moment and looks down at the champion. The two lock eyes, but only for a moment, before Clark hops over the stairs toward the floor on the other side, pulling Landon’s leg with him and slamming it down into the steel once more.

 

“Citizen Clark is putting all his attention onto Landon’s knee! Could the champion face the Wrath of Clark tonight?” The Comet’s rhetorical question shocks Riley, as he throws his hands up…

 

“How dare you even bastardize and defame the name of our savior by saying those three words in the presence of Todd!”

 

“Uhm, Robert…I don’t see Citizen Royal anywhere.” The superheroic announcer looks left and right and even up toward the rafters and finally back to Riley, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“Todd is everywhere!” Riley’s response should have come as a shock to no one as Alan pulls Landon, by his feet, away from the stairs and to the apron, hoisting him up and pushing his legs under the bottom rope and hooking his feet onto them, causing Maddix to hang by his foot long enough for….

 

Smack!

 

…Alan to send a kick into Landon’s knee! The force of the kick causes the champ’s foot to slip away from the ropes, dropping Maddix down onto his back and shoulders on the floor before flipping to his stomach.

 

…”FOUR”…

 

“I’ve never seen anything like that! Alan Clark is like a man possessed…” The Comet starts.

 

“…and he needs stopped QUICK!” Bobby finishes the statement in his own special way as Alan pulls Landon up to his feet and hooks him in a front facelock, taking a moment to stare across the ring at Megan before leaning down and hooking the champion by the knee. With a small groan, Clark lifts Maddix off his feet and holds him up on his shoulder, keeping him there as he walks forward and back toward the ring steps!

 

…”FIVE”…

 

Clang!

 

“By Zeus!! High Noon on the outside and straight into the steps! Alan Clark needs to watch or he could go deeper into the hole in this match with a disqualification himself!”

 

“Yeah, disqualify him Ref!”

 

Riley’s pleas go unanswered as Clark keeps the facelock hooked in and drags Landon up to his feet, and the champion looks to be limping a bit. The pain shooting from his knee is starting to block out Landon’s conscious thought, but the Triple Crown winner still knows where he is, and with a hard shove, he repeats what Alan did earlier, falling down onto his side to protect his knee and sending Clark’s back straight into the apron once more.

 

…”SIX”…

 

Alan hits hard, but the shot isn’t enough to put him down, and the two men are back on their feet in a hurry. Even with a small limp, Landon is still able to get himself past the challenger and roll into the ring.

 

Clark takes a moment to shake off the pain and bringing his hands around to massage his back before rolling into the ring. The time he wasted was only a few seconds, but the time was precious to Landon, who was able to get back to his feet and welcomes Alan’s re-entry with a stomp (a left footed one at that) straight to Alan’s spine. The stomp pushes Alan’s chest into the canvas, causing an unwanted exhale that disorients Clark long enough to suffer two more hard stomps right between his shoulder blades.

 

“It seems that Landon Maddix has his sights set on destroying Alan Clark’s back after reversing that irish whip on the outside!” The Comet remarks as Landon lifts Alan up to his feet and hooks in a front facelock. Before Alan can protest, he finds himself in the air and being tossed over with excessive force, his back hitting the canvas with a loud…

 

Smack!

 

…before the Disciple rolls through the move and goes right into a cover!

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Alan gets his shoulder up just before the three, and Landon barely lets the ref finish the count before pulling Clark back up off the mat and whipping him into the corner, following him in a hard knee to the gut. Alan stumbles out of the corner as Landon moves in and climbs up, seating himself on the top and leaping off, catching Clark in the back once more and putting him down face-first into the canvas.

 

Landon is up to his feet, still with a limp in his step. He takes a moment to massage his knee down, and in retrospect it looks as if he was only preparing himself for his next move, as he takes a good skip out of the corner and pops into the air, rotating his body two hundred and seventy degrees backwards before dropping all of his weight down across Alan’s back, sending another shockwave of pain through the Wayward Son.

 

“The Landmark! Woo! This could be a landmark moment for Landon Maddix here!” Riley cheers loudly as Landon rolls Alan over and goes for another cover….

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Thr-No!

 

Alan again kicks out, sending a ripple through all of his muscles just to give himself that extra boost to get the two hundred pound Maddix off of him. Again, Landon does not give Clark any time to rest, and is immediately back on the offensive, striking Alan’s back as he tries to roll toward the ropes to safety.

[the.weej 0]

“Landon Maddix is not letting up on this relentless assault! Even with a hurting leg, Maddix clearly has the advantage!”

 

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Captain Shooting Star!” Riley quips, only to catch a stiff slap to the jaw.

 

“You ever say something like that again and you’ll be tasting super-boot, Robert.” The Comet says in his the most calm of manners, and Bobby can do nothing but rub his chin a bit as, in the ring, Alan begins to use the ropes to pull himself up, but Landon is still right on him, attacking him with kicks and forearms straight into his back and shoulder blades.

 

Clark gets to the top rope and drapes his body over it, trying his best to block out the pain his back has been suffering. It doesn’t really work. Especially as Landon slides between the ropes and grabs him by the head before falling to the floor below, snapping Alan’s neck across the rope and putting him down on the canvas, holding his throat from the blow.

 

“What a veteran move from the champion!” Riley calls as Landon begins to pull Alan under the bottom rope, but Alan gets his arms up, catching himself and holding his upper body in the ring. Unsatisfied, Landon rears back and then jerks forward, sending a swift kick up and into Alan’s exposed spine, causing a small wail of pain from Clark as the Wayward Son tries to pull himself back in the ring.

 

“Citizen Maddix just made the best out of Clark’s attempts to save himself, and it looks like that one kick could have done more damage than anything Landon could have done on the outside!” The Comet even has to admit the fact as the Disciple slides back into the ring and gets to his feet, immediately going back to hard stomps to Alan’s back.

 

It’s too bad they don’t seem to have the same effect.

 

The adrenaline begins to pump through Alan’s veins as he works himself up to his knees, mentally trying to block out each stomp from Maddix. The Disciple’s thoughts change rapidly to worry as Clark gets one foot flat on the canvas, trying desperately to get back to his feet.

 

“Alan Clark is standing up!” Riley’s voice nearly cracks as Alan finally gets his second foot under him and stands up, but before he can take so much as one step, Maddix comes from behind and grabs him by the back of the head before falling toward the mat, jamming Clark face-first into the canvas with a bulldog.

 

Somehow, through all the pain and much to Landon’s surprise, Clark stands right back up, though slowly, and looks prepared to fight it out with the champion and not fall so easily with over half the match still to be contested.

 

“You have to admire that, Robert! Alan Clark has been getting torn apart and you have to wonder how much more he’ll be able to take.” The Comet remarks as he watches his monitor, the two men going back to basics with another tie-up, but it seems the hold was nothing more than a fake-out from the champion, as he slides his body around and drives his left knee into Clark’s stomach, doubling him over and putting him in position for Maddix to hook in a facelock and reach down to pull Alan off the mat, flipping his body over and slamming it down into the canvas with a picturesque exploder suplex!

 

”Explooodah!” Riley’s Japanese commentating skills are not exactly up to par and leave a lot to be desired, but it matters little as Landon floats through the suplex as best he can, landing on top of Clark and going straight for a cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Alan gets his shoulder up just before the three count, his body running on instinct to do whatever it can to counter the actions of Landon. On the other hand, Landon himself feels that he is firmly in the driver’s seat, as he stands over Alan and points down at him, showing off how far above him he really is.

 

Even with the show of respect earlier in the match Landon cannot help but stroke his own ego before pulling Alan up to his feet, holding him by the hair and dragging him across the ring to toward the ropes, using a good deal of strength to try and toss Alan over the top rope.

 

He succeeds but Clark lands on the apron instead of the floor, causing Maddix to attack with a flurry of kicks, doing anything he can to get Alan to fall that extra three feet to the floor. Soapdish sees Alan down and trying to block the kicks and quickly jumps in the middle, forcing Maddix to back away from Clark and give him some breathing room.

 

“What does he think he’s doing?” Riley complains as Alan begins to get to his feet, crawling up the ropes one after the other as Maddix and Soapdish jaw-jack only a few feet away. As Alan finally does get vertical, Landon swerves past the referee and tries to catch Alan by the head, only for his prey to duck down, firing his shoulder between the ropes.

 

Reacting quick, Landon moves out of the way and brings his left knee up, catching Clark right in the forehead and causing his body to fall almost limp across the second rope. Alan tries to get himself enough leverage to fall into the ring, but another hard knee from the champion keeps him trapped.

 

“Let him out of the ropes!!” Both Soapdish and Comet speak the same words, but Maddix is oblivious to it all, grabbing Alan around the neck and turning his body, using the ropes as his aid to bend Clark’s back even farther and right into a Dragon Clutch!

 

One! Two!

 

“This is sick! I love it!”

 

Three! Four! Fi-

 

Landon breaks the hold just before the five count, leaving Alan to hang down across the ropes once more. Clark isn’t completely out of it yet and using his hands he begins to crawl out of the ropes. With freedom from his trap almost attained, Maddix can not help but take a little hop and send both of his knees into Alan’s neck and back. The shot drops Alan down to the canvas and Maddix quickly rolls forward, somersaulting out of the fall and landing on his back.

 

“Landon Maddix is just doing everything in his power to keep Alan Clark down, even when it hurts him!” The Comet rightly points out as Landon rolls to his side and massages at his right knee once more, trying to keep the blood flowing and the pain away before getting to his feet and turning back to Clark, who still lays face down with one foot still stuck on the second rope. Megan points and yells toward her man, but he doesn’t even need to be told as he goes back down to the canvas, pulling Alan’s leg down and turning his body over before going for another cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Thr—

 

No!

 

Once again, Alan is able to get his shoulder off the mat before the three, causing a little gasp of shock from Megan who watches on from the outside. She too had heard the words from Alan Clark days ago, and in her mind she started to wonder exactly how much more punishment Alan would take. Even in the very dark recesses of her thoughts, she was starting to feel sorry for him as Landon sat over him and pounded his head, neck, and back with his forearms.

 

“This could be Citizen Maddix’s night, as he is clearly doing everything in his power to keep Alan down and out of this match. It truly may be only a matter of time…” The Comet’s words come slow and deliberate as Landon ‘helps’ Alan to his feet, holding him up and chopping into his back, causing Clark to stagger forward and nearly fall back to the mat, but as Landon spins Alan around, he is caught off guard by a hand swiping at his face.

 

“He’s trying to fight back!” Riley screeches, but Clark’s little slap missed Maddix’s face by a few inches. This does not sit well with the champion, and as Alan flails past him, Maddix grabs him by the hair and pulls him back down to the canvas, trapping him in a side headlock, wrenching on his neck as best he can from the angle he has placed himself in, his lower body first straddling Clark, then off to the side, putting more weight down on Alan’s back.

 

“Maddix with a takedown and he has the time to simply sit and wait for Alan to pass out under the pressure of that headlock!” The Comet exclaims as Maddix lets out a near animalistic growl, drawing a suggestive smile from Megan, and pulls back on Alan’s head as hard as he can, twisting the still tweaked neck.

 

“Alan’s neck hasn’t been the same since he went up against Janus a few shows back, and right now we are getting a special treat…watching our Champion finish what the Hell Machine started!” Riley remarks as Clark tries to fight out of the hold, working to get his arms underneath him and kicking his legs, anything to get out of the predicament he has found himself in.

 

“This isn’t just about you and me anymore, Clark…”

 

Alan hears the whisper of the champion in his ear as he lays pinned facedown on the mat…

 

“This is about my titles, the ones you are never going to lay a hand on. The ones I took from you months ago, and the one I took from your buddy Coy West…”

 

With those words, Landon rolls out of the hold and back toward Alan’s legs, standing to his feet and pulling them up, twisting them around his own and falling back down, going back to the headlock and pulling it back…

 

“The STF! It’s the STF! The same move Coy West used to injure Todd Royal at Battleground!” The Cyclone Comet’s call comes but is nearly drowned out by laughter from his colleague.

 

”I didn’t even think of this! Landon Maddix is going to defeat Alan Clark and tear his neck to pieces using Coy West’s trademark! Absolute GOLD!” Riley claps his hands together, looking somewhat more bizarre than normal in the process, as in the ring, Alan tries to fight his way out of the hold, but Landon has it locked on as firmly as he can, keeping Clark pinned down and trapped.

 

“We are barely a third of the way through this match and Citizen Maddix is going for the kill with the STF.”

 

“Well once Clark passes out, Maddix can pin him as much as he wants and then leave him in that ring a LOSER like he really is!” Riley seems to have entered taunting mode, and Comet has to hold himself back from firing off another slap. Alan’s thoughts are running on overdrive as his body contorts through the pain, trying everything he can to escape.

 

“I can’t fail…and I won’t…”

 

Alan Clark repeats the phrase over and over in his mind as his right arm stretches out, trying to get to the ropes. Landon begins screaming now, his voice nearly growing hoarse as he uses what limited strength he has to pin Clark down and keep his head pulled back, wrenching his neck in a nearly inhumane way.

 

“Come on, Landon!” Megan shouts from ringside.

 

“Come on, Alan!” Edward James screams into his monitor, holding himself back from walking to the ring himself and physically tearing Maddix off of his partner. Alan too, joins in the noise making, but his sounds are more those of a dying cat, as his neck is pulled another degree away from normal posture.

 

Alan’s mind continues his mantra chant, but as the seconds tick away and Landon pulls back harder and harder, Alan comes closer and closer to realizing there is absolutely nothing he can do. With his head held literally high, though not in the way he truly wants, he simply has to give up, his hand finding the canvas repeatedly as he taps himself one point further away from victory.

 

*DING DING*

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…as the result of a submission…the score is now Two to Zero in favor of the SWF Triple Crown Champion…Landon Maddix!!”

 

The boos that had been raining down on the ring quickly move into near hurricane territory as Landon releases the hold and climbs to his feet, celebrating the submission in his own way…a smile on his face and his arms outstretched, almost as if asking every member of the audience for a big hug.

 

Backstage, as Alan lies on his stomach barely moving and holding his neck, Edward James’ head drops. He almost has to turn his head away from the monitor as the score appears on the screen.

 

----------

Landon Maddix – 2

Alan Clark – 0

----------

 

But just before his eyes leave the monitor, Edward sees Alan beginning to move, his head rising from the canvas. Even with his hand around his neck, cradling it, the camera can see his eyes burning and his face turned from the usual grin or smirk to one of complete fury.

 

“How dare you…” The camera, and the champion, catch Alan’s accusing voice, causing Maddix turns around and finds Clark on his feet, one hand holding his neck and the other stretched out, a finger pointed directly at the Disciple’s heart.

 

“Uh oh…I don’t like the looks of this. Alan might have no feeling in his neck, but that could be a good thing for him and a bad thing for Landon!!!” Riley’s worry transcends to Megan, but not to Maddix, who simply laughs it off and moves to Alan, sending a hard slap to his face.

 

Landon’s laughter stops.

 

Alan’s eyes remain the same. He doesn’t even seem to have felt the champion’s blow. Maddix comes in again, this time with a hard kick that doubles Clark over, but as he goes in for a facelock Clark pushes away, shoving the Disciple down onto his backside. Landon looks up at his foe as he gets to his feet, and finds him moving closer and closer toward him. Maddix stops when he gets to his knees, as Alan Clark stands over him, his head turned down and their eyes locked once again.

 

“You’ll thank me for this…”

 

Nobody can hear Alan’s words except Landon himself, and when his mind registers them he begins to back pedal on his knees, trying to get to the ropes and out of the ring to rethink his strategy. Maddix never expected this kind of reaction from Clark, even though maybe he should have.

 

“Citizen Maddix is leading in this match and yet he is still running away! What is going on?” The Comet has to ask, and likewise Bobby Riley has to answer.

 

“He’s not running! I, Bobby Riley, might run in the face of that psycho, but not Triple Crown Landon! He’s just heading outside to regroup and then he’ll come back in and do what he does best…”

 

“…And that is?”

 

“WIN!” Riley’s voice goes to near cheerleader levels as Landon slides to the outside to where Megan stands. The two get together and begin to have a meeting of the minds, leaving Alan in the ring pacing back and forth with the referee standing between the two men, as he too is not completely sure what Clark may do being down two points even with over half the match still to be contested.

 

“What am I supposed to do now? I didn’t think he’d go down so easy, but then again I didn’t expect him to get up so easy either!” Landon is frantic and Megan tries her best to calm him down.

 

“You have a two point lead! Just go in there and do what you’ve been doing! You’re beating him!”

 

“I know, but I’ve never seen him like…”

 

Sadly, Alan Clark’s feet interrupt Landon Maddix as the Wayward Son slides under the bottom rope and catches the Disciple in the jaw. The force of the kick causes Megan to jump back in shock and send Maddix into the steel railing, his body hitting hard with no time to brace himself for the impact.

 

“There’s a new way to join into conversations…try that one at your next party!” The Comet’s joke isn’t very funny to Riley, who scorns the action as if Alan spit on the Shroud of Turin.

 

“How dare he interrupt their meeting?! They were planning crucial strategy and he just had to do the ungentlemanly thing and kick Landon Maddix right in the face!” Riley continues his laundry list of complaints on the moment as Alan lands on his feet and moves toward Maddix, only stopping to give Megan a glare that causes her to move around the corner of the ring, staying out of harm’s way. Landon comes off the railing with a kick, but Alan simply takes it in stride, pushing his foot away and grabbing at Maddix’s throat, pinning him down onto the barricade and choking him, his eyes staring a hole through the Disciple.

 

…”ONE”…

 

Soapdish’s count starts as he leans over the top rope, yelling down toward Alan to stop the blatant choke and get back into the ring. Alan either does not hear or pretends to not hear, keeping his hands locked around Maddix’s throat.

 

…”TWO”…

 

“Why isn’t the ref out there stopping him?” Riley questions, and sure enough only seconds later Soapdish is out of the ring, trying his hardest to pull Alan away from the champion. Megan comes around the corner now that authority has arrived, and she begins screaming toward Clark…

 

“STOP IT!” Her voice echoes out, causing Alan’s head to turn and his grip to loosen. Clark steps away from Landon and the Disciple’s body drops off the railing and to the mat. The Wayward Son now sets his sights on the Toddess, causing her to retreat hastily and rush around the side of the ring. Soapdish once again intervenes, yelling for Clark to get back in the ring and leave Megan alone.

 

“Get in the ring! Now!” Soapdish warns again and again, and only after Megan is around to the opposite side of the ring does Alan finally stop and turn back toward a recovering Maddix, who sits again the barricade and holds his throat, breathing deeply to get oxygen back into his system.

 

“Todd give me strength…”

 

Landon lets out a silent prayer to his savior before finding himself back in Alan Clark’s hands and being pulled toward the ring. Clark tosses Maddix under the bottom rope and he goes rolling in, almost to the other side of the ring.

 

“Citizen Maddix looks to be on the run now, and I wouldn’t blame him if I had Alan Clark gunning for me!” The Comet exclaims as Alan climbs up to the apron and into the ring, bouncing back off the ropes and getting that extra boost of speed before heading across the ring and dropping down, driving his elbow into the back of the right knee of Maddix. “…and now it seems Citizen Clark is going right back after that knee of the champion!”

 

”Even I have to say that if you take the wheels out from under anyone that it’s going to make winning a heck of a lot easier, but right now Alan Clark still doesn’t have much of a change to come back from the hole he has wandered into!” Riley comments as Alan pulls Landon’s leg up and back, putting it underneath his right arm and wrenching back, trapping the Disciple in a half boston crab.

 

Landon lets out a yelp of pain, but lucky for him he finds himself quite close to the ropes, and with some quick thinking and a good reach, Maddix is able to make a lunge for the bottom rope and catch it with his right hand, gaining himself momentary freedom from Alan Clark’s hands.

 

Megan goes to the ropes by Landon as he falls out of the hold and pulls his body to the apron, clutching at the rope like a small child and trying to buy himself time to recover. Clark, on the other hand, stands back to his feet to a rousing cheer, once again massaging his neck slightly as the small chants that began earlier become magnified.

 

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

 

The Wayward Son acknowledges the cheers as he turns back to find Maddix, who is slowly getting to his feet, though his words with Megan have yet to cease.

 

“…and then I should…” Landon tries to get out one more suggestion, but finds the distance between himself and Skye to grow considerably as Alan grabs Landon by the back of the head and pulls him up to his feet. As Maddix turns to face Clark, he throws his foot into the air, trying to catch Alan with a surprise kick. Alan, however, is prepared, grabbing Landon’s foot in his hands and quickly falling to the mat, spinning his body and pulling Maddix hard by the leg, twisting him over and down to the canvas with a dragon screw!

 

Landon hits the canvas hard and can feel his knee once again being stretched in all the wrong directions, but just as the pain begins to go away and his focus goes back to Clark, he can sense the danger.

 

“Here it comes!!” The Comet yells as Alan stands over Maddix and hooks the Disciple’s left knee around his own leg, preparing him for the centerpiece of his repertoire…

 

“No! Not the Wrath of Clark!” Riley is next to scream, but not to worry, as Landon places his right foot on Clark’s behind and pushes forward, sending Alan stumbling forward and into the ropes, ending any chance the Wayward Son had of locking on his mentor’s signature hold.

 

“Citizen Clark almost had the Wrath locked on, but at the last possible moment the champion countered out, keeping Alan from the possibility of scoring any points!”

 

“Are you saying Landon Maddix would have tapped out to that blasphemous hold?”

 

“Yes I am, Robert.”

 

“Well you are wrong! Landon’s tolerance of pain is beyond that silly move.”

 

“I see you are forgetting that the first time they fought, Landon Maddix did indeed tap out.” The Comet is right, but as always, Riley has an answer.

 

“That was a long time ago!”

 

Indeed, seven months is a long time, but not long enough for wounds to heal, as Alan Clark gives a little look toward the triple crown of championships before going back to Maddix, keeping him down on the canvas and putting all of his attention on the knee, holding Landon by his right foot and delivering repeated stiff kicks…

 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

 

The sound of Alan’s boot connecting with Landon’s knee echoes out, causing a few winces from the first few rows before Clark lets the foot drop and hops into the air, coming down with his own knee and putting it right in the most tender of areas on Landon’s right leg.

 

Maddix groans slightly from the pain and begins to try and crawl away, using his hands and upper body to try and get himself free, but Alan is right there, jamming his foot down on the Disciple’s knee and pinning him in place, the pain shooting through his body too much for him to fight through.

 

Landon collapses, his arms giving out and his chest hitting the mat, and Alan seems to have won the battle as he falls to the mat and rolls Maddix over, pinning his shoulders to the mat.

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Foot On The Ropes!

 

With the instincts kicking in, Landon’s foot shoots off the mat and hits the bottom rope just before the three, leaving even Alan impressed for him to be able to pull off such a stunt. The impressed version of Alan Clark fades away quickly, however, as the Wayward Son drags Alan by the arms out the middle of the ring and falls on top of him once more, going for another quick cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

No!

 

Landon kicks out fully this time, his body recovered enough and his mind functioning at a good enough level to know that he can get his shoulders off the mat and not lose a point to Clark as the thirty minute mark looms on the horizon.

 

As Clark gets to his feet, Maddix too tries, pulling his body toward the ropes in hopes that he can use the ropes to his advantage despite his slowly deteriorating right knee. Alan senses Maddix running and drags him up, the Disciple noticeably putting all of his weight on his left leg, keeping his right bent and trying to keep his balance.

 

With a primal grunt, Alan falls back and tries to whip Landon, but the bad leg gives out and Maddix drops to the canvas, hitting hard and falling to his chest.

 

“This is completely unfair! You can’t fight someone with one leg!” Riley’s protests are once again unheard by Clark who bends down and grabs Landon by the head, putting his mouth close to his ear.

 

“You’re right…this is about more than just you and me…and since you brought up Coy…”

 

Only Landon hears those words, but the rest of the world sees the repercussions as Alan pulls the Disciple up and hooks his head under his arm and grabs him by the waist, lifting him off the ground and dropping him gut-first across the top rope…

 

Booooing!

 

…slingshotting him over and down, crashing into the canvas with a hard suplex!

 

“Slingshot Suplex! It’s like Coy West Appreciation Night!!” The Comet cries out as Alan completes his friend’s trademark float-over and goes into the cover.

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

Three!

 

 

 

*DING DING*

 

“Yes!!” This cry comes from the mouth of Edward James as he rises to his feet backstage once more, nearly falling over the locker room bench in celebration. But this time his cheer is not a lone one, as he can hear other sorts of sounds coming from just outside his door. As Funyon’s voice is heard over the loudspeakers, James goes to investigate…

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…as the result of a pinfall…the score is now Two to One in favor of the SWF Triple Crown Champion…Landon Maddix!!”

 

…and finds many off the other SWF superstars and officials all seated around a larger monitor, their eyes glued to the action.

 

“I told you guys! I told you!” comes the voice of Mathew Kivell, who scrambles to collect a few loose bills from the others.

 

“Well how was I supposed to know he was going to use Coy’s suplex! He was aiming for the knee!” Jimmy Liston replies toward the junior ref as he hands over a few dollars, quietly cursing the screen. His tone changes quickly though as he finds himself in Edward’s shadow, but the silent giant walks past him and sits down, joining the group and putting his attention back on the screen as Alan stands over Maddix, the smirk having returned to his face even though he still finds himself down one point in the match.

 

“This is unbelievable! That wasn’t supposed to happen!” Riley continues to complain about the decision as the score appears on the screen…

 

----------

Landon Maddix – 2

Alan Clark – 1

----------

 

“Alan Clark got that pin fair and square, coming back to where he was a few minutes ago, only needing one point to tie it!”

 

“He needs two points to win! Those belts go with Maddix if there is a tie and you know it!” Riley is right once again, but Alan doesn’t seem to mind making up two points as he tries to pull Landon up to his feet, only to be stopped by Soapdish, who is trying to check on the status of the Disciple’s right knee.

 

*GOOOOONG*

 

“Alan Clark does not want to waste any time here! This match may be only halfway done, but he needs every second to continue his quest for victory and that championship!” The Comet exclaims, only to draw more heat from Bobby as the thirty minute mark is passed.

 

“The ref is finally doing his job for the first time in this match and you have the gall to take that moron’s side! What is wrong with you, you super freak!” Riley heckles, drawing a look of disdain from his tag partner, who definitely finds himself anything but super freaky even though he currently is wearing a blue and white suit and matching mask.

 

Alan can do nothing but wait as the referee checks over Landon, not wanting to put one of the premiere superstars of the SWF in any kind of jeopardy even during one of the biggest events of the year. Maddix holds his knee and moves his body toward the ropes, killing time as best he can because he knows Alan is standing a few feet away, just itching for Soapdish to give him the go ahead to continue.

 

Alan looks to the clock as Landon finally makes it to the ropes and the concerned Toddess, but with a quick wave of his hand Maddix turns her away and starts his climb up the ropes, his actions deliberate and slow as he puts one hand over the other to get his body back up to a vertical position.

 

“Injured or not, I’ve never seen someone take this long to get back up after a few shots to the knee.” The Comet comments as Soapdish finally moves out of the way and Alan rushes in, but before he gets there…

 

Smack!

 

“Sweet Disciple Music!” Riley screams as Landon turns his body, firing his left foot straight into Alan’s jaw and putting him down on the canvas.

 

”Where did that come from?! Was Maddix faking his injury?” The Comet asks, but as Landon gets back to both feet it’s clear the move was a desperate one, his right leg still bent and keeping as much weight off it as possible before he falls to the mat and covers Alan, trying to get another pin…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Three!

 

 

No!!

 

Alan barely gets his shoulder up, but the kickout almost seemed like nothing more than a delayed reaction as Alan rolls out from under Maddix and works to get to his feet, rubbing his jaw a bit but mostly looking through the pain and straight at the champion, who is now up to his knees and looking shocked that the kick didn’t get him another point in the match.

 

“He almost got his two point lead back thanks to that amazing kick, but no…Alan Clark had to ruin the moment!” Riley complains loudly as the Wayward Son’s eyes lock onto the Disciple as he moves across the ring, sending his foot up and burying his boot into Landon’s face, dropping the champion down onto his back.

 

“A vicious boot there! Citizen Clark nearly took his face off!”

 

“…His BEAUTIFUL face!” Riley corrects the Comet as, backstage, a few of the others watching cringe in their seats.

 

“Did you teach him that?” Edward hears a voice calling from a few seats over, and turns to see the injured Todd Royal leaning back in a chair, watching the action just as closely as James is himself.

 

“Nope…” is all James can respond with as everyone’s attention goes back to the screen, as Alan has Landon in his hands once more and lifts him into the air, clutching his right knee and pulling it back before falling down, driving it straight into his own bent knee. The force of the kneebreaker causes Landon’s hands to move nearly involuntarily to his right leg, giving the rest of his body no protection for the fall down to the canvas, where his body hits face-first.

 

“And Alan Clark is going right back to working on that knee! Landon Maddix might need surgery when this match is over!”

 

“Don’t even say things like that!!!” Riley sounds teary in his words, but Landon isn’t completely out, as the Disciple begins to crawl across the ring, pushing his body up and trying to get himself in a decent position to fight back.

 

Alan does not seem worried, though, as he takes his time in getting Maddix up to his feet. The move may have been costly however, as Landon grabs Alan by the neck and falls back down, sending a shockwave through Clark’s body courtesy of a jawbreaker. Alan once again clutches at his jaw as he falls toward the canvas, leaving Maddix in a heap only a few feet away. Alan rubs at his jaw, shifting it back and forth and making sure he didn’t sure any long term effects. This few seconds of peace is perfect for Landon, as he works to get himself back into a fighting mood and not just a mood filled with an injured right leg. He isn’t going to want to hear from Todd Royal if he has to be carried out of the building by Megan Skye at the end of the night.

 

“Alright fine, you called it…”

 

Backstage, Jimmy Liston hands over a five-dollar bill to Toxxic, who smiles and takes the money, holding it in his hands like a child holds a new toy.

 

”Are you guys betting?” Edward James asks, looking around at the few men closest to the television. Toxxic nearly falls out of his seat to respond…

 

“Sure we are! You want in? I got 50 bucks that says Landon Maddix leaves with that gold.”

 

“It’s a bet.” James pulls a few bills out of his jacket and lays them on an empty chair before looking back at the screen, as the two men have now made their way back to their feet, though Maddix still looks to be in rough shape.

 

The two men move into a tie-up, and it is quickly evident how much stronger Clark is at this point in the match, using his strength as well as Landon’s right knee to his advantage, pushing the champion back and into the ropes.

 

As Alan releases the hold, Landon leans back against the ropes, wrapping his arms around them to keep himself on his feet. Alan looks to have been planning for that move as he reaches down and pulls Landon’s feet off the canvas, holding him up and parallel to the mat. Landon’s eyes seem to shout…

 

“NO!”

 

But everyone in the crowd shouts…

 

“YES!”

 

…as Alan pulls Landon off the ropes and drops him down back first onto the canvas. The crowd explodes in approval once again as Clark flips over top of the Disciple and lands on top of him, placing him into a pinning predicament!

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Landon kicks out, his arms flailing from the ropes and his shoulders shooting off the mat, causing Alan to fall off to one side and roll away in order to get back to his feet. Megan rushes around the ring and tries to give some advice to her man, but Clark doesn’t seem to enjoy the chatting as he moves back and grabs Landon’s bad leg, using it to pull him back into the center of the ring.

 

Alan seems pleased to hear a moan of pain coming from Maddix before pulling him up and whipping him toward the corner, the move coming off less than spectacular as the Disciple nearly falls on his face, deciding instead of fall onto his knees and send another jolt of pain searing through his body. Landon fumbles toward the corner with Alan hot on his tail, but the upwardly mobile Clark catches him before he can make it. Landon turns his head back and throws his hands up, begging for a chance to get back to his feet.

 

Clark isn’t normally one to grant such favors, especially to someone like Landon Maddix, and before the champ can do anything about it he finds himself on his back and being dragged into the middle of the ring on his chest.

 

“He’s setting him up again!” Comet exclaims as Alan turns his back to Maddix and once again looks to lock on the Wrath of Clark. With Maddix’s left leg trapped, he moves down and goes for the right, but a well placed and possibly accidental kick…

 

Ching!

 

…puts Clark face down on the canvas.

 

“By Zeus!” Comet continues, “Landon Maddix just low-blowed Alan Clark!”

 

“He did nothing of the sort! He was simply trying to fight out of the hold and Clark just happened to have part of himself in the way!” Riley could be right or wrong as Soapdish too is confused and can only offer a warning of disqualification to Maddix as Alan drops to his knees and then to his side, holding himself from the possibly blatant shot.

 

Landon uses the time to get to his feet, still limping, and trying to plead his innocence to the crowd, but they don’t buy it at all.

 

“YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!”

 

“The fine citizens here are really showing the champion what they think of him!”

 

“This crowd is completely impartial!” Riley retorts as Landon looks down at Alan and sees his chance to exact some revenge. With a small one-legged hop, Maddix heads toward the canvas, sending his elbow straight down into Clark’s head and neck, bringing one of Alan’s hands up to try and block out of instinct.

 

Landon, now on the mat, immediately throws himself over Alan’s body and tries for a quick cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

No!!

 

Alan again gets his shoulder up, but this time he catches the Disciple off guard, capturing his arms and rolling him over and putting his shoulders onto the mat!

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Landon quickly springs his body up, getting his shoulders off the mat and flipping himself backwards, landing on his knees and once again covering Clark up, hooking both of his legs and doing everything he can to keep Alan’s shoulders down as…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Kickout!

 

Alan kicks out just before the three and rolls his body away, distancing himself from Maddix who comes up looking perturbed that neither of his quick pins could increase his lead and even more aggravated by the fact that he was nearly countered into a tie by Clark.

 

“They were just going from pin to pin praying that a point could be scored, and that’s how this match is going to be for Alan Clark! He’s going to pray but his prayers will never be answered!” Riley laughs again as everyone in the arena, including the boys in the back, watches on. Todd Royal can’t help but smile a bit at what his Disciple has accomplished, and Edward James cannot help but sigh slightly, having not prepared himself for Alan Clark to lose the match.

 

The action in the ring has neared a standstill, as Alan and Landon work to get back to their feet, both taking their time to allow for maximum recovery, but both wants to stop the other.

 

“He’s getting up…” The thought flashes through both their minds at nearly the same instant as they rush toward each other, but Landon’s bad knee hurts his mobility as Alan catches him, taking him down hard with a clothesline. Maddix hits his back and rolls to his stomach, trying to keep himself from any chance at a pin attempt. Alan notices the roll and reacts in his usual fashion, heading toward and springing off the ropes, flipping his body backwards through the air and dropping his two hundred and twenty five pound frame square across the back of Landon’s legs, causing his legs to buckle and a loud groan to leave his lips before he finds his back on the mat and Clark over top of him, going for another cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Three!

 

 

 

 

No!!!

 

Landon kicks out just in time, despite the pain burning through his leg he still has the strength to get his shoulder off the mat and keep the score from becoming a tie.

 

“Alan Clark may very well break Landon’s knee before the end of this match, and it doesn’t look like even that will stop the Disciple from keeping those titles!”

 

“Of course, Comet…as I said before, Landon Maddix is leaving with those belts even if he has to be transported out on a stretcher!” Riley seems extremely positive about the situation, even though Landon looks as though he can barely hold himself up anymore, but after a moment on the mat he rolls to his stomach and starts getting up, leaving even Alan Clark in a bit of shock.

 

“What am I going to have to do to this guy?”

 

Alan thinks to himself and goes over options in his head, and it seems seconds later that he has his plan as he moves toward Maddix and pulls him off the mat. Landon tries to pull himself away from Alan, but the Wayward Son keeps him in his grasp as he turns him around and gives him a swift kick to the back of the knee, causing another loud squeal of pain from the champion. With Maddix’s hands blocking his knee from any more punishment, Alan bends Landon’s head back and hooks him into an inverted facelock before going back to the knee, hoisting it up and using it as leverage to lift him off the mat and hold him in the air, stalling himself and keeping Landon upside down, letting all the blood rush to his head.

 

“It’s the Peacekeeper! This could be what Citizen Clark needs to tie!” The Comet yells, but as Alan tries to fall back Landon begins to flail and shift his body, flipping himself backwards out of the hold and landing on his left foot, falling completely out of Clark’s grip. Alan immediately senses the danger in turning around, so as he does he ducks his head in reflex, and sure enough the left foot of Maddix soars over his head!

 

“How’d he know that was coming?” Most of the audience wonders the same thing as Riley asks out loud, and Comet makes the call next to him.

 

“Sweet Disciple Music misses its mark! These two know each other so well they are countering moves before they happen!” Comet speaks the truth as Alan catches Landon’s head and pulls it down, setting him up for a little Wayward Fate…

 

“No No No!” Riley exclaims as Alan turns his body and goes for the neckbreaker, but Landon shoves him out, jamming Clark’s chest into the corner as hard as he can. The resulting force knocks Alan a little loopy and straight into Landon’s hands as the Disciple drops down and tucks his body, catching Alan in a roll-up!

 

One!

 

As Soapdish goes down to make the count, Landon sends his feet up to the second rope, propping them there for leverage!

 

Two!

 

“Feet on the ropes! He’s got his feet on the ropes!”

 

Three!

 

The Comet’s yell goes unheard, as do those of all in the arena, including Edward James backstage, who hits his knees in front of his chair as Todd Royal stands to cheer.

 

*DING DING*

 

“Yes!” Riley joins in the celebration of Landon as he moves his feet off the ropes just as Soapdish calls for the bell, keeping himself from getting caught in the act.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…as the result of a pinfall…the score is now Three to One in favor of the SWF Triple Crown Champion…Landon Maddix!!!”

 

Boooooooooooooo!!!

 

As Landon holds his body over the ropes and recovers, he is caught from behind by a rabid Alan Clark, who was on his feet mere seconds are the three count as called, and he knows exactly what Landon Maddix did.

 

----------

Landon Maddix – 3

Alan Clark – 1

----------

 

“Uh oh, it seems Alan Clark got an eyeful of what the ref didn’t!” The Comet remarks as Alan clutches Landon by the throat.

 

“You…shook…my…hand!”

 

Alan’s tone is violent and deliberate as he continues to choke Landon, and even with Soapdish yelling for him to stop, Alan still has to hear the five count…

 

One! Two! Three! Four!

 

Before the five is even called, Alan pulls Landon off the ropes and throws him down to the canvas, putting him on his knees.

 

“Here goes that mean streak again!! Somebody stop him!” Riley looks around for any help, but Megan Skye wants no part of Alan, her eyes glued on the action in the ring and her hand to her mouth, wondering what Alan is going to do next.

 

The clock on the SmarkTron keeps the crowd reminded of just how much time Alan Clark has to come back and try for victory and the time Landon Maddix has to survive to walk out with the championships still in his possession.

 

“As time goes on, this is going to get more heated and more tense than it ever has before and these two men know it and right now it seems Alan Clark is prepared to do whatever he can to win this match, even if it means…” Alan Clark’s foot jamming itself in Landon’s ribcage suddenly cuts off the Cyclone Comet, the kick causing the Disciple to roll to his back and groan loudly, “…even if it means tearing Landon Maddix apart piece by piece!”

 

“It is a testament to his ability that Landon Maddix is even able to stand up after all that brute has done to him!” Riley seems horrified at Alan’s recent actions, and applauds the effort of the champion as he works to get to his feet, only to have Alan catch him mid-way with another hard kick, this one catching him square in the back of the head.

 

“It’s going to be a wonder if Citizen Clark even lets him stand up, Robert.” The Comet mentions as Landon hits the canvas once more and Alan drops down on top of him, rolling him into another cover…

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

No!!

 

Landon gets his shoulder up just before the three, his chest heaving as he breathes rapidly, trying to get enough energy to get away from Alan long enough to recover. Indeed, Maddix’s next move is to roll toward the apron and fall to the floor, landing on his hands and knees, his breathing growing heavier and heavier before he disappears under the apron.

 

“Good! Hide! Don’t let him get you, Landon!” Riley cheers the champ on as Clark slides out of the ring, finding that Landon Maddix has disappeared from sight. Alan is no stranger to these kinds of actions as his eyes go immediately to the apron.

 

“Uh Oh. It seems Alan knows exactly where Citizen Maddix ran off too, and that can not be good for your champion.”

 

As Comet speaks, Alan sends his foot under the apron, making sure he doesn’t become the victim of a fire extinguisher blast or any other form of hardcore mayhem. With his needs met, Alan takes the dive, throwing his body under the ring.

 

“Now they’re BOTH under there!” Riley exclaims as Soapdish peers outside the ring, finding both of the superstars have gone MIA. He can only shrug as he begins to count…

 

…”ONE”…

 

…but just as he throws up his hand Landon Maddix appears…on the other side of the ring!

 

“There he is!” The Comet yells as Landon crawls out and toward the barricade, using it to pull himself to his feet. Megan is ecstatic, clapping wildly and nearly performing a high kick for her man as he turns back toward the ring, his breathe still heavy, looking as if he just escaped death.

 

…”TWO”…

 

The arena drops into silence as everyone watches to see if Alan is going to appear anywhere, or if he is still lost under the ring searching for Maddix.

 

…”THREE”…

 

Landon finally is able to stand, mostly, and turns his attention to the apron wondering when Alan is going to come out.

 

…”FOUR”…

 

“Man, how hard is it to find your way around under a ring?”

 

“You think you can do it, Robert? It’s pitch black under there!”

 

“I know those rings like the I know my body…and that’s pretty damn well thank you very much.”

 

“Once again, Bobby Riley with too much information!” The Comet exclaims, but suddenly he sees movement around the apron. “There he is!”

 

…”FIVE”…

 

The apron does indeed push forward and Clark crawls out, looking a little lost. Landon is right there, though, to help give him ‘directions’ that are otherwise known as a kick to the head.

 

“That’s how you bring someone back into the light!” Riley laughs as Clark is knocked down by the kick and Landon continues, attacking with two more hard shots before pulling Alan up and rolling him into the ring, hobbling and rolling right after him. As Alan gets to his feet he is met from behind my Maddix, who simply rolls underneath him, tripping him up and causing him to take a fall straight to the canvas.

 

“…And that must be how you bowl someone over, right Robert?” Comet’s joke causes a look of confusion from Riley, but that look soon turns to a smile as Landon gets back up and walks toward Clark, pulling him up to his feet while keeping pressure of his own right knee.

 

Backstage, Edward James begins to look worried, eyeing the money he placed on the chair. His worries increase as Landon looks to be setting Alan up for a belly-to-belly suplex. Toxxic is the first to gloat.

 

“If he hits this then I don’t think Alan will be making a comeback and that money will be mine!”

 

“I’ll bet he counters out. I’ll bet you ten bucks he does!” comes the response from Jimmy Liston.

 

”You’re insane…” Toxxic says, but sure enough, Clark goes deadweight in Landon’s arms, causing his body to limply fall to the mat. Maddix tries to recover, but as he reaches down to pull Alan up, the Wayward Son falls backwards and hooks his arms around the Disciple’s body, rolling him over and straight into a small package!

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

Three!!!

 

 

*DING DING*

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…as the result of a pinfall…the score is now Three to Two in favor of the SWF Triple Crown Champion…Landon Maddix!!”

 

“NO WAY!” These words from Riley are also heard backstage from Toxxic’s mouth as he stands up and kicks the air in disgust over the quick turn of events. Liston smiles and politely asks for his ten dollars, and Edward James breathes a quick sigh of relief, knowing now it will be much easier for Alan to catch up and possibly win, giving them both a little prize to take home.

 

----------

Landon Maddix – 3

Alan Clark – 2

----------

 

“Yes way, Robert, and it looks like the tides are beginning to turn back in favor of the challenger, but as you stated earlier, he still needs two points to win this match and he only has a little over twenty minutes to do it in!”

 

The Comet speaks the truth, but in the ring Alan is like a man possessed, standing in the center of the ring screaming out loud as he looks down on Maddix, who still has barely moved after the surprise roll-up. His eyes seem glazed as he looks toward the rafters.

 

“Alan Clark is getting to be more and more of a pain as each minute ticks away. Somebody needs to tranquilize him or something!”

 

“I think I’d be more worried about Citizen Maddix at this point, as it looks like he is seeing stars, and I don’t mean the good kind!” Comet’s remark comes almost too late, as Alan sees that Maddix has barely moved an inch and goes over to investigate, leaning down over the Disciple and checking his eyes.

 

It is not noticeable to anyone other than Clark, but Maddix’s eyes suddenly grow wide and a smile appears on his face as his arms shoot off the canvas and he grabs at Alan, pulling him down and rolling through and into a small package of his own!

 

“Wait!”

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

Three!!

 

 

 

No!!!

 

“He fooled us all, but Alan Clark was still able to kick out!” The Comet exclaims as Alan powers out of the pin just in time and rolls to his feet, looking over at the Disciple who has gotten to his knees. Maddix can only shrug as the smirk returns to his face, but Alan looks ready to kick it off just as he did earlier.

 

Whiff!

 

Alan runs in, but Maddix ducks and rolls to his left, getting out of the way of Clark’s boot. Alan hits the brakes and turns around, finding Landon getting to his feet in the corner. With another head of steam, Alan nearly burns the rubber off his shoes getting to the corner, but Maddix plays boy scout once more, being fully prepared and catching Alan in his run, lifting him into the air and dropping his head down right into the top turnbuckle! Clark hits hard and stumbles back, giving Maddix a chance to hop up to the second turnbuckle and take a leap of faith off of it, trying to catch Alan by the head as he passes by…

 

 

…and he does!!

 

“Crash Landon!!” Riley explodes in joyous cheers as Alan’s head strikes the mat hard and Landon, after first checking on his knee, crawls over and makes the cover…

 

“This could be all she wrote!”

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Three!!

 

 

 

 

Yessssss!!

 

 

 

WAIT!!

 

Soapdish slaps the mat for the three, but just as he does he sees Alan’s foot draped over the bottom rope, saving the challenger from going down another point. Landon cannot believe it…but the SmarkTron shows the truth, as a slow-motion replay tells that Alan’s foot did indeed save him just before the three was counted.

[the.weej 0]

“Alan Clark’s presence of mind saved him there, and Landon Maddix does not look like a happy Triple Crown Champion!” The Comet remarks come as Maddix sits on his knees in the ring, his fists pounding the mat in distress and anger.

 

“I still don’t believe that…” is the general consensus around the monitor backstage, as even Edward James’ mouth is open in awe of Alan barely escaping the cover. Once again, James can’t help but look down at his cash sitting on the steel chair, hoping that when the night is over it is back in his hands.

 

“This is a complete travesty, Comet, and you know it! Landon Maddix had the pin!” Riley, even after seeing the footage, still continues the debate as Alan rolls out of the ring, holding his head and falling to his knees on floor. Landon takes the time in the ring to look over his knee before rolling to the outside, taking the extra effort to send a kick to the back of Alan’s head before he hits the floor.

 

“Another fine display of sportsmanship from Landon Maddix…” Comet’s sarcasm is dry, but effective, as Landon grabs Alan by the his head and turns him around, looking down toward the edge of the apron before driving him down into it, his head hitting the blunt corner. Fans around the arena wonder if that move should be called “inverted curbing” as Clark falls to his side on the floor.

 

…”ONE”…

 

The referee starts the count, but the champion doesn’t let it get much farther as he pulls Alan up and tosses him into the ring, following close behind and pinning him down, going as far as to throw his legs up on the ropes as Soapdish drops down…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

NO!

 

Alan kicks out and Landon falls from the ropes, the move causing them to vibrate wildly. Soapdish sits up with an accusing look toward Maddix, who ignores his accusations before returning to his work, dropping down and grabbing Alan by the head once more, lifting it off the mat and slamming it back down repeatedly, dribbling his head like a basketball.

 

“What is Citizen Maddix trying to do? Knock Clark out?” The Comet asks as Landon continues the beating, going so far as to rub Alan’s face into the canvas, yelling at him the entire time.

 

“What do you think about that handshake now!”

 

Landon is heard loud and clear by Alan as he tries to block out the throbbing headache he has been on the receiving end of the past few minutes and begins to fight out, getting his hands underneath himself and push his body up. The motion causes Maddix to put more torque on the hold, leaning over Alan’s back and putting all of his weight down onto him, keeping the headlock in.

 

“Landon Maddix is just gaining more leverage each time Alan Clark tries to fight out! If this keeps going he could have a broken neck!” Riley exclaims, and broken neck or not Alan continues to push his body up, causing Landon’s feet to almost leave the mat as he continues to put weight onto Clark’s back.

 

With nothing left to do, Alan throws his right arm up in a windmill, catching Landon’s head and pulling it down towards him, bending the Disciple’s neck back farther and farther. As Maddix tries to compensate for the pain, Alan sits completely upright on his knees, using his other hand to catch Landon’s right leg and pull his arms together, bending Landon’s body around his back as well as putting pressure on his neck and right knee.

 

The resulting hold has Landon Maddix’s body twisted in a way that would make a gymnast cry, and since Maddix is definitely not a gymnast, he is definitely feeling the pain.

 

“What in the bloody hell is that!?” Riley blurts out, causing a little chuckle from his partner.

 

“I think it’s a bloody counter hold, Robert.” Comet retorts as fans begin to cheer and Alan gets himself to his feet, still bending Landon around his backside.

 

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

 

Not being in the headlock is a nice change of events for Alan, and with a big smile on his face he falls backwards and let’s Landon go, dropping him down stomach-first and causing his head to whiplash forward and bounce off the canvas. Megan turns her head upon the impact and Alan simply stays where he is, rolling Maddix over with his arms and laying on top of him for a cover, hooking his right leg and pulling it up, adding a bit more pain to the pin attempt…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

NO!!

 

 

“Alan Clark was so close to tying it up, but Landon Maddix just won’t stay down!” The Comet remarks as Landon’s left shoulder hovers above the mat, showing the world that he did indeed kick out just before the three.

 

“Both men have taken a lot of hits over the last forty minutes, but Landon Maddix is still in the lead and is going to win this thing!” Riley stays optimistic for the Disciple, but things do not look good for either man as they each take time to recover, both men moving in opposite directions and both looking a little worse for wear.

 

Alan Clark’s head still throbs and the pain in his neck sends shivers down his spine as he gets to his knees, arching his back and twisting his neck, trying to bring as much pain as possible to himself at one time in the hopes it will block out everything else.

 

Landon Maddix, on the other hand, feels the burning in his right knee underneath him and he knows it won’t be too long before the pain will just be too much for even him to handle. Neither man has ever been in the ring for an hour at one time, but comparing the Disciple of Todd to a man formerly known as Bloodshed, who prided himself on pain, the odds seem stacked against the champion as time ticks away.

 

“The longer this goes on, the more it looks like a car wreck.” Riley points out as the two men still have yet to reach their feet, as Alan steadies himself on the ropes, holding his head and rubbing at it, still trying to block out the pain as Landon Maddix sits a few feet away, Megan talking to him from the outside.

 

“You’ll be okay, babe…he hasn’t gotten up yet either…” The Toddess’s words are reassuring, if nothing else, for Maddix, who begins his quest to get back to a vertical base, putting his hands on the ropes and using his upper-body to pull his legs underneath him.

 

“I can safely assume we may need EMTs standing by when the hour is over, as these two have taken nearly a minute to get back to their feet and are not even worrying about the other man or the time, at least for the time being.” Comet comments on the situation as Landon makes it to his knees, his right hand resting on his hurting knee as he uses his left to keep pulling himself up.

 

“I can’t believe they are getting up!” this call comes from Kivell backstage, who is on his feet now and watching the monitor intently, as are the other men around him. The two most focused are definitely Royal and James, there eyes having not left the screen for the last few minutes. Toxxic cannot help but wave his hands in front of their faces a few times, but the two are in their own little worlds, each men praying for their respective friend and partner to find the power…

 

…for James, the power for Clark to come back and win…

 

…for Royal, the power for Maddix to survive…

 

Back in the ring, Landon is finally up to his feet, holding himself up on the top rope as he turns to look for Alan, finding him in the same position on the opposite side of the ring, though with a huge headache instead of a bum knee.

 

With the fifteen-minute mark looming, both men walk toward each other, neither one making the first move for fear of any sort of counter from the other.

 

“They aren’t taking any chances now. They have faced each other so much and know each other so well that advantages could be taken at any juncture, and neither man can afford a point against them.” The Comet talks over the action as the two meet in the middle of the ring and go into another tie-up, and both seem to be stuck at a stalemate with neither giving an inch.

 

“Okay, who’s going to win this one?” This time the voice of Sexton Hardcastle is heard from the behind the others watching backstage. The referee appears and throws down ten dollars, putting it all on Alan Clark. Todd Royal accepts in a heartbeat, throwing his money down.

 

“Your Todd is always right!” Royal screams as, in the ring, both men stay stuck in their positions. Finally, Landon brings his knee up, catching Clark in the stomach, but the move has discernibly no affect as Alan stays put in his place, either blocking any pain out or just being so focused on the moment that he doesn’t care.

 

“We might have to pry them apart if they keep this up!” Riley comments as Soapdish moves in close to the action, checking over everything. All he can see is the two men’s eyes locked together. As a camera shots from the floor, zooming in for a close-up, the scowl on Clark’s face turns to a smile and he pulls his body back, keeping Landon trapped as he rotates his body, trying to put the Disciple down on the mat. Maddix isn’t one to go down easy, though, and he spins even faster, reversing the momentum and putting Alan into the ropes and causing him to start to go over!

 

“To the outside goes Alan Clark!” The Comet exclaims, but Alan still has Landon by the back of the head, and as he tumbles over the top and to the outside he pulls Maddix with him, both men flip completely over and land on their feet before crumpling to the floor, the tie-up finally broken.

 

“Did you see that!? They went back and forth but in the end they BOTH paid the price!” Riley calls, but his enthusiasm turns to worry as the camera catches Landon lying on the mat on the outside, holding his knee once again. “No! He must have landed wrong! This isn’t fair!”

 

“It seems Citizen Maddix should have thought things through before doing that, Robert.” Comet points out, as backstage Hardcastle takes back his ten dollars, citing that neither man really won, and if Landon did, he sure isn’t showing it.

 

Alan isn’t looking too rosy either, as the back of his head caught the apron as the two flipped, causing him to immediately grab at his head and roll to the floor. He now finds himself against the steel railing staring down at concrete and shoes.

 

…”ONE”…

 

After checking on the situation, Soapdish can do nothing but start his count from the inside, his voice booming out as the fans begin to rally behind Alan Clark, who is the first to show signs of life.

 

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

 

…”TWO”…

 

The chants seem to be working, as Clark gets his left hand to the top of the railing and starts to pull himself up, all the while keeping his right hand on the back of his head, hoping it doesn’t have to take anymore punishment during the last fifteen minutes or so of the match.

 

…”THREE”…

 

Behind Clark, Landon begins to move from his position as well, pulling his right leg up and putting his foot down on the mat, his face contorting from the pain as the muscles in his knee contract and expand to help pull him back up to a standing position.

 

…”FOUR”…

 

*GOOOOOONG*

 

“Fifteen minutes left and you can just feel the pain on Citizen Maddix’s face. He is doing everything he can to get up but you can tell he may need to be carried out of here tonight.” The Comet continues to speculate about the condition of Landon’s knee as the two men seem to be equal in their quest for verticality, as Clark gets his legs underneath of him and pushes up hard. Having only minor leg pain to worry about, his focus continues to be on his knee, which may be in near the same condition as Landon’s knee as time moves on.

 

…”FIVE”…

 

As Soapdish continues, Alan finally gets to his feet, shaking his head a bit before turning toward Landon, who has begun to pull his body back into the ring, his lower half still hanging below the apron as he crawls on his stomach across the canvas.

 

Alan does the friendly thing and pushes Maddix in, then follows right behind him. As Clark gets back up in the ring, he pulls Landon by the head until both are standing together. Alan turns and tries to whip Maddix into the corner, but the Disciple turns it around, falling to his knees and reversing it on Clark, sending the Wayward Son into the corner, his chest hitting hard.

 

Stunned, Alan staggers out of the corner and turns into a kick from Landon that doubles him down. Maddix quick to react, putting Alan into position and lifting his leg off the ground in preparation for a little Maddixfaction.

 

“Can he lift him up with that bad knee?” Comet asks, and Landon soon answers as he pulls Alan off the mat and holds him in the air, preparing to drop him down…

 

 

 

 

…but the knee gives!!

 

 

 

Landon’s right knee buckles out from under him and Alan drops down to the mat, landing hard on his knees. Alan takes a moment to adjust before standing up and getting Landon, who has dropped down to check on himself, and rolling his body around, hooking his right leg up and pushing it into his stomach before lifting him off the ground, holding him in the air in the inverted version of what Maddix was just attempting…

 

Thud!!

 

“Peacekeeper! Alan Clark hit it!” This call from Comet is echoed by a loud disapproving moan from Bobby Riley as Landon lands flat on the top of his head and crumbles to the canvas, leaving Alan to crawl over and lay himself on top of him, not even trying to hook a leg…

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three!!

 

 

 

 

*DING DING*

 

“The score is tied! By Zeus, Alan Clark tied it up with a little over fourteen minutes left!”

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…as the result of a pinfall…the score is now TIED Three to Three!!” Funyon’s voice is followed by a loud tidal wave of cheers as Alan rolls away from Landon and gets back to his feet.

 

Backstage, cheers and boos alike can be heard around the monitor as the wrestlers watch with baited breath to see if Alan can pull off a comeback or if Landon can find a way to win the match and prove to the world that he is all he says he is.

 

Of course, Edward and Todd are the two quietest in the group, neither wanting to say a word in case it could jinx their partner’s chances at victory.

 

----------

Landon Maddix – 3

Alan Clark – 3

----------

 

“What a comeback…this sucks!” Riley remarks as the scores appear across the screen, making the tie official. In the ring, Soapdish keeps Clark away from Maddix as he checks him over, asking him repeatedly…

 

“You okay, Maddix?”

 

“Yeah, now leave me alone!”

 

Landon pushes the referee away as he gets back up, taking a moment to look toward the SmarkTron, seeing the clock ticking down and the score tied.

 

“It seems Landon Maddix just got an eyeful of the scoreboard!” The Comet exclaims, but Landon’s mind is on other things as, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Clark moving in on him, not wanting to waste any time.

 

“The next pinfall should win this for either man, but a tie gives Landon the championship!”

 

“Robert, you and I both know that Landon Maddix will not accept a tie even if he keeps the titles. He wants to show everyone that he has what it takes to beat Alan Clark after their match at Battleground.”

 

“Well I’d take the tie and run. Who cares about winning when you are the champ?”

 

“Apparently not you…” Comet responds quickly as the action in the ring heats back up, with Landon turning into Alan and sending an uppercut straight into his jaw, catching Alan off guard and putting him back a few steps.

 

The Disciple has found new life as he begins his attack, throwing every strike he has at Alan Clark’s body. Palm thrusts, chops, forearms, uppercuts, Alan is sent reeling back into the corner where he hits hard, trapped by Maddix. Landon can be seen with a smile on his face as he sends his left foot into Clark’s gut and then a knee to his face as he bends down. The shot to the head sends Alan falling to the canvas, but Landon isn’t through, sending a barrage of kicks into Alan’s head, forcing him to crawl, roll, do anything he can to get away from Maddix and get back to his feet.

 

“Landon Maddix knows what he has to do and as much as his knee is hurting him he is just putting the boots to Alan Clark!” Riley remarks as Landon begins to pull Alan up to his feet, limping as he pushes him into the ropes and then pulls him off, whipping him across the ring. As Alan hits the opposite ropes and starts to head back across, he notices Maddix doubled over and instead of hopping up and leapfrogging, he slides down, pushing his legs out and sending his feet square into Landon’s right knee, causing him to groan in pain and hit the mat.

 

“Alan Clark telegraphed the back body drop and Landon Maddix paid for it in a big way!” The Comet exclaims as Alan gets up and moves toward the Disciple, who lies in a near fetal position holding his knee. Clark has to almost stifle a laugh as he lifts Landon up and takes him to the corner, shoving him in sending a few kicks to his ribs before backing away and heading to the other side of the ring.

 

“What is that idiot doing now?”

 

Riley’s question is soon answered as Clark comes rushing back toward the corner, performing a picture perfect cartwheel before leaping into the air, bringing his foot across and into the temple of Landon Maddix!

 

“The second One Hit Kill of the match! It might sound like an oxymoron but I guess you can call that payback for Landon Maddix using the move in the beginning of the match!”

 

As the Cyclone Comet continues to call the action, Landon falls out of the corner and right into Clark’s waiting hands once more. The Disciple can barely defend himself before he finds his head being driven into the mat, courtesy of a quick DDT from the Wayward Son.

 

Alan pops off the mat, not even going for a cover! Clark goes toward the corner and faces the crowd, pointing one finger to the sky before hopping up to the top and springing off…

 

“Don’t do it Alan…”

 

Edward James speaks under his breathe backstage as Alan spins his body through the air and tucks his limbs in before going spread eagle and aiming right for the Disciple’s chest…

 

 

 

 

 

Splat!

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but finding nothing but canvas!!

 

 

“Desert Twister Splash does NOT connect!” exclaims the Comet as Alan hits the mat hard and folds himself into a ball, holding his chest and rolling onto his back. Maddix lies only a few feet away, knowing he barely escaped a possible match-ending maneuver.

 

“Cover him, Landon! Cover him!”

 

The voices of Bobby Riley and Todd Royal seem to mix together as Landon begins to crawl toward Clark, his right arm outstretched as he falls to the canvas, barely getting a legal cover on the challenger…

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three!!

 

 

 

 

No!!!!!

 

 

Alan Clark’s shoulder flies off the mat just before the three and stays held high. He is not out of it yet. The crowd begins chanting once more as Landon rolls to his side, the camera catching a look of disappointment on his face for failing to get the point on the cover.

 

“Landon Maddix is hurt or this match would be over!” complains Riley as Landon gets to the corner and uses the turnbuckles to stand up. Clark’s arm finally falls back to the canvas and his chest heaves up and down…fatigue has more than set in on both men.

 

It seems to be a race as to which man will get up first, but it’s a race that the Disciple is definitely winning as he gets his hands on the top rope and pulls himself up, taking a moment to look down at Clark to see him on his knees, head down, working just as hard.

 

Thump!

 

 

Thump!

 

 

Thump!

 

“Landon is warming up the choir!!” Riley cheers as Landon’s foot pounds on the canvas and Alan staggers a few feet in front of him, not yet turning around and facing his foe.

 

“If Citizen Maddix hits this…” Comet starts as Alan starts to turn and Landon leaves the corner, throwing his foot into the air…

 

 

 

 

 

…Alan ducks!!!

 

 

 

 

 

Thud!

 

“Sweet Zombie Jesus!!! The Whiplandon!!” Comet nearly screams as Landon’s foot never goes more than a foot off the ground, and as Alan ducks he finds himself caught hook, line, and sinker by the Disciple, who grabs him around the neck and hooks him, spinning his body around and slamming Alan to the mat with a hard exploder suplex.

 

“That was perfect! Maddix is Gold!” Riley continues his praise as Landon stays on top of Alan for another cover…

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

Three!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!

 

 

“How did he kick out of THAT?!” Bobby Riley is in complete shock, as Alan Clark’s shoulder gets off the mat only milliseconds before the three. The arena is filled with loud chants, urging Alan to get back to his feet.

 

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

 

“Do you hear these people, Robert? It’s easy to hear who they are rooting for as we close in on the ten minute mark!”

 

“These people are idiots!” is Riley’s only response to the crowd as they cheer on Alan, who is slowly getting up, crawling on his hands and knees and trying to get his feet underneath him to help him the rest of the way.

 

Mere feet away, Landon too is using the ropes to get up, finding them to be an ally as the match draws closer and closer to the end. On the outside, Megan claps and cheers, trying to start a “Mad-dix” chant, but the fans aren’t exactly the biggest fans of the House of Todd, especially the way things have been going over the course of the match.

 

Landon is the first one up of the two, and he turns to find Clark nearly standing. The Disciple has no time to waste as the clock continues to tick down, and he comes in, putting Clark back down on his knees with a forearm to the back of his head. Alan tries to recover quickly but Maddix turns, hopping up and bringing his left knee toward Clark…another hard shot straight to the back of his head.

 

*GOOONG*

 

“Another Shining Wizard from Landon Maddix and Alan may be needing some Advil post haste.”

 

“I’m sure it’s going to take more than a few pills to bring these two men back to one hundred percent after tonight…we’ve seen these two men go through fifty minutes of heck so far and we aren’t even finished yet!” The Cyclone Comet remarks as Landon pulls Alan up and goes for a suplex, lifting his feet off the ground…

 

…but Alan goes limp and falls down, sliding himself under Maddix and pulling his head down, rolling straight into a small package!!

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

No!!!

 

“For the second time tonight, Alan Clark reverses a suplex and this time he nearly took the lead!” The Comet exclaims as Alan sits up and slams his hand off the mat, a little irked that he didn’t get the pin. The look on his face quickly turns to that of pain, however, as Landon gets up behind him and sends a stiff kick into the back of his head. Alan’s body whips forward and snaps back, putting him in the Disciple’s grip as he lifts him to his feet and bends him back, holding him in an inverted facelock before turning and putting his arm across his throat and dropping to the mat, jamming Clark’s head into the canvas once more.

 

“The Landon Eye!! Yes!!” comes the call from Bobby as Landon rolls on top of Alan and hooks his leg, doing anything he can to keep him from kicking out as the count is made…

 

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

This time it is Alan that kicks out and Landon that is pissed, but the champion doesn’t wait around. Maddix is up quickly and dragging Alan up as well, locking his arms around Clark’s waist and aiming for another belly-to-belly suplex…

 

 

 

Wham!!

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

Three!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOOO!!

 

 

“Landon Maddix was going for his signature belly-to-belly, but it’s obvious he didn’t get the full effect out of it as he couldn’t lift Alan up as high as he wanted to. His knee must really be hurting!” The Comet comments as Landon rolls off of Alan and grabs his knee, holding it for a moment and trying to get the pain to subside for just a few minutes.

 

“In all of the matches of this kind, it’s the last ten minutes that can make or break a champion. Thank Todd we have Landon Maddix in there!” Riley starts to wax poetic, but quickly goes into old form as the two men get to their feet, both looking cautiously at the other even though both are severely hurting.

 

Landon once again does not waste any time getting to the point as he runs as fast as he can with a bum leg toward Clark, trying to catch him with a clothesline. Alan moves out of the way and catches Landon around the waist, lifting him off the mat and over his shoulder before swinging back in one fluid motion, slamming the Disciple hard into the canvas.

 

“The Southern Rock!”

 

“That blasphemous leach!”

 

“What?”

 

“LOOK!”

 

Bobby Riley catches what Comet does not, as Alan lifts Landon’s feet off the mat and bends them in a familiar shape around his own leg before falling back, trapping the Disciple and sending waves of pain through his injured right knee.

 

“By Hera’s Fax Machine!! The Wrath of Todd!!!”

 

“…like I said…That blasphemous leach!”

 

Pfffffffffffft~

 

Backstage, Todd Royal spits his Coca Cola as he watches Landon writhe in pain in his own move. A few wrestlers watching can’t help but laugh as the soda goes flying, and even Edward James chuckles under his breath as Landon begins to fight away, luckily being only a few feet from the ropes…

 

“He can make the ropes! Come on Landon!” Riley calls as Maddix inches his way closer and closer. Clark tries to pull him back but Landon sits up, enduring the pain long enough to send his thumb out, catching Alan right in the eye!

 

“Citizen Maddix just gave Clark a thumb right to the eye!”

 

With Alan’s attention diverted to his eye, Landon makes one final reach for the ropes…

 

 

 

 

…and he gets it!!

 

 

“YES!” Riley celebrates as the hold is broken, but Soapdish is right in Maddix’s face about the poke.

 

“I flicked his ear! He’s a wuss!” Landon can be heard responding to the ref’s accusations, but the sold-out crowd knows the truth.

 

YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!

YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!

 

“SHUT UP!” The Disciple screams out toward the crowd as he crawls up the ropes to his feet at near the same instant Royal yells at the laughing peanut gallery of wrestlers, causing them to go mostly silent, though a few small chuckles remain.

 

“He has every right to tell that crowd how he feels, Comet! They shouldn’t be treating their Triple Crown Champion like dirt!”

 

“These fans pay to get in here and they can say whatever they want to whomever they want. Heck, Robert, some of those chants could be directed at you!”

 

“What?! How dare you! I’ve never been so insulted in my entire life!” Riley retorts as Alan gets back up to his feet, rubbing his eyes and getting his vision back just in time to find himself doubled down and being lifted off the ground…

 

 

Wham!

 

…and being dropped straight onto his head!

 

“It’s a Landslide!” Riley’s attitude suddenly perks up as Alan’s head bounces violently off the canvas and Landon Maddix floats over and right into a cover…

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

“Come On!”

 

Three!!

 

 

“Yes!!!”

 

 

 

NO!

 

 

“Alan Clark kicks out again!” The Comet is forced to rain on Riley’s parade as Alan’s shoulder gets off the mat just before the three, and Soapdish confirms to Landon and the crowd that it was indeed a two count.

 

“Why won’t he just stay down?!” Riley asks, but Landon does not seem to worried as he drags Alan back up and into the corner, setting Clark in position as he climbs to the second rope…

 

“Crash Landon!!” Comet yells, drawing Riley’s eyes up and to the ring, but Alan moves out of the way before Landon jumps, causing the Disciple to almost lose his balance. Maddix does not fall however and Alan stays away from the corner, keeping himself out of range.

 

“No fair!” Riley whines as Alan holds his hand up, motioning for Landon to come down and fight like a man instead of waiting for Alan to move in. Landon shakes his head and springs to action, jumping from the second rope and up onto Clark’s shoulders trying to move himself into position for a hurricanrana!

 

Alan won’t go down easy though, and as Landon falls back the move is blocked!

 

“Clark blocked the hurricanrana attempt and things do not look good for the champion!”

 

Landon hangs upside down for a moment and immediately tries to right himself as Alan does not seem to have a good enough grip to counter. Maddix pulls his body up and gets back into position, but before he can hit try again he finds himself going to the mat faster than he ever should be…

 

 

 

Thud!!

 

“Sweet Merciful Moses! Alan Clark might have just dented the ring with Landon Maddix’s body!!” The Comet exclaims as Maddix gets driven into the canvas hard with a powerbomb, and before he knows it he is back in the air and upside down, feeling himself being locked into position for…

 

 

“NO! Not that!!”

 

 

Riley’s near ear-piercing scream comes as Alan hops into the air and falls onto his chest, sandwiching Maddix between himself and the mat.

 

“Landon Maddix might call that the Disciple Clash…but it’s only part two of Citizen Clark’s Judge, Jury, and Execution!”

 

“Execution???!!!” Riley’s eyes grow wide as Alan stands out of the hold and moves down, rolling Landon to his back. Still holding his left leg, he pulls it around his own left and locks it into position before reaching through his legs and grabbing hold of the right, pulling it through and rolling his body to the mat….

 

 

“The Wrath of Clark!!”

 

The sold-out crowd explodes in a plethora of cheers as Landon is turned to his chest and his mouth opens, a loud moan of pain being heard as he finds himself trapped in the one hold he had avoided most of the night.

 

Backstage, Edward James and Todd Royal are now inches away from the monitor, both screaming toward Landon Maddix.

 

Tap! Tap! Tap!

 

Don’t Tap! Don’t Tap!

 

Tap! Tap! Tap!

 

Don’t Tap! Don’t Tap!

 

“Would you two move out of the way!!!” This, followed by a barrage of other comments, is thrown at Edward and Todd from behind them.

 

“NO!” Both turn and yell, but Todd turns back to the screen…

 

Don’t Tap! Don’t Tap! Don’t…

 

 

…but it’s too late.

 

The pain overcomes Landon and his hand hits the mat repeatedly, wanting nothing more than to be released from the hold!

 

*DING DING*

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…as the result of a submission…the score is now Four to Three in favor of Alan Clark!!”

 

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

 

The crowd chants wildly as Alan breaks the hold, rolling to his stomach and looking dead into a camera, showing a smile on his face as he looks toward the clock and the scoreboard, finding himself in the lead for the first time.

 

----------

Landon Maddix – 3

Alan Clark – 4

----------

 

“I just don’t believe it…” Riley somberly says as he looks at the scores, and backstage neither can Toxxic or Todd Royal, as the two take turns kicking chairs down the hallway in anger.

 

“Guys, calm down!” Mathew Kivell says, only to find himself being thrown into the hallway wall by the duo before they return to their own chairs and sit down in a huff, both men looking over at Edward James, who can do nothing but shrug.

 

“Alan Clark takes his first lead and with only six minutes to go!” Comet’s words are not exactly cheering up Bobby Riley, but the crowd is loving it all, most cheering, but some holding their breath that Alan can hold out the rest of the hour and finally prove once and for all that he is not a fluke.

 

“Get up, Landon! You only have six minutes!!” Megan calls from the floor as Landon lies in the center of the ring, holding his knee and trying to pull himself up. He knows all too well how much time is left on the clock, and bad leg or not he has to make every second count.

 

Clark stands to his feet, raising one hand high in the air in celebration while keeping the other on his neck. The Wayward Son turns to see Landon has barely made a move, and goes over to offer his own special brand of help, pulling Maddix up to his feet and throwing him into a corner before walking to the other side of the ring, keeping Landon as far away from him as he can.

 

“Citizen Clark looks to be wanting to wind down the clock! He only has to last the next few minutes and he’ll be champion!”

 

“He’s just a chicken! He doesn’t want to put himself in a situation to get pinned…he’s nothing but a CHICKEN!” Riley repeats himself again and again as Soapdish urges the two men to fight, only for Clark to wave him off.

 

“No thanks, man…I need a rest…” Alan can be heard saying as he props himself up in his corner, breathing heavily and watching Maddix across the ring, doing near the same thing.

 

“You gotta hurry, Landon!” Megan yells from the outside, trying to get her man out of the corner and tie up the score. In Maddix’s mind, he knows what he has to do, but getting his body to do it is going to take more strength than he seemingly has at the moment.

 

“It can’t end this way! It’s just can’t!” Riley continues whining as Maddix finally takes a step out of the corner, his right leg twitching a bit as he tries to keep the weight off it. He takes another step…and another…putting his hands up and begging Alan to come out and fight him.

 

“Landon Maddix is actually asking Alan Clark to fight! All that pain must be getting to his head!” The Comet remarks as Alan steps out of the corner and walks toward Landon, not even putting much effort into grabbing him by the head and pulling him into another headlock, holding him there and walking around the ring.

 

On the outside, Megan has had enough. The Toddess hops up to the apron and begins screaming into the ring.

 

“Help him! He’s hurt!” her screams are heard by all three men in the ring, but Soapdish is the first to act, moving to her and trying to get her to get back to the floor.

 

 

Ching!

 

 

“Sweet Mother of…Landon Maddix with a blatant low blow behind the referee’s back! Megan Skye was just playing the referee for a fool!” or maybe not, as Clark drops to the mat so does Landon, his knee still throbbing. Taking a quick glimpse at the clock, Landon knows he does not have much time left, and immediately goes to work.

 

With Clark on his knees, Landon grabs him by the head and menacingly drives it into the mat just as Megan hops off the apron and the referee turns back around. Soapdish asks if any foul play was involved, but even with the entire arena chanting, Landon shakes his head.

 

YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!

 

“Sometimes it’s the little things that gain the victory…” Riley remarks as Landon goes for a quick cover…

 

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

No!

 

Alan Clark kicks out, pushing Landon off of him and rolling to his knees, still holding his special place but nonetheless quite perturbed at the Disciple’s actions. Landon doesn’t seem too scared and if he is he hides it well, moving into Alan and sending a boot to his head. Alan’s head whips back and forth quickly but the kick seems to have limited effect, as Clark simply shakes his head.

 

“It’s going to take more than that…”

 

Alan’s muted words are understood perfectly by Landon, who connects with another stiff kick. Clark falls to his back but, nearly immediately, rolls back up to his knees and tries to get to his feet. Landon shakes his head and moves in, catching Alan with an uppercut and pushing him back into the corner. Another uppercut follows, and then another, leaving Clark dazed just long enough for Maddix to pull him out of the corner and whip him across the ring. Alan hits the corner running and places his hands on the top rope, pushing his feet off the ground in the hope that Landon is rushing behind him and will run underneath him…but there is no Disciple to be found.

 

“It seems Landon Maddix saw that one coming!” Riley says as Alan lands on his feet and turns around, only to be met by the feet of Maddix catching him in the ribs. Landon hits the dropkick with a flourish and back flips out, landing on his knees on the canvas.

 

“That had to hurt Citizen Maddix landing on his knees like he did” and sure enough Landon grabs at his leg, holding it as he gets up to his feet and moving toward the corner where Alan fell. Clark gets up and turns around, only to meet another uppercut that puts him into the corner once more.

 

Maddix quickly pulls Alan out of the corner and climbs to the second rope, clutching him by the head and diving off, spinning around and…

 

 

 

Wham!

 

 

 

“Crash Landon MISSES AGAIN!!” Comet yells as Alan gets his right hand around the top rope, keeping him on his feet and causing the Disciple’s grip to falter, putting him down on the canvas on his back. Alan lets go of the rope and falls back, looking to send his elbow into Maddix, but Landon moves at the last second, rolling to the apron and then to the floor, causing Alan’s head to bounce off the mat as he hits.

 

Alan gets to his feet in near record time as Landon climbs back up to the apron, but as he turns to face the Disciple he is caught around the head and pulled down, his throat being sent straight into the top rope! Landon falls to the floor as Alan bounces off the top and falls to the mat, holding his throat and neck from the whiplash momentum of the move.

 

“There’s some vengeance for everybody watching out there! How do you like your Triple Crown Champion now!”

 

“Robert, in less than four minutes, Citizen Maddix may no longer be a champion.”

 

“Blasphemy!” responds Riley as Landon slides into the ring, going for a cover on the downed Clark…

 

 

One!

 

 

 

Two!

 

Clark gets his shoulder up almost before the two is counted, and Landon is once again in shock. Taking another quick look at the clock, Landon knows he has to act fast or he won’t be acting anymore (at least as champion).

 

“Three minutes! He can do it!” Riley’s eyes move back and forth between the ring and the clock as Landon pulls Alan up to his feet and sends him right back down again with a quick snap DDT, dropping Clark almost vertically into the mat.

 

“What a DDT that was! Alan Clark could be out!” Comet calls, but Landon does not go for the cover, instead the Disciple stands back up and looks out into the crowd, taking a moment to stare at all of them cheering for Alan Clark and burn it into his mind before going to the corner…

 

 

 

“He’s climbing up! He’s got a bad leg what is he doing? Megan! Stop him!” Riley pleads but Megan can not do a thing as Landon gets to the top rope and steadies himself quickly before taking a short leap off, spreading his arms wide and driving his head right into Alan’s chest!

 

“Disciple Dive! The Disciple Dive!” Riley cheers as Landon drapes his spread arms over Alan’s chest and Soapdish falls down for the cover…

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

Three!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!

 

 

“Unbelievable!” Comet’s voice echoes out as Alan’s shoulder raises off the mat just in the nick of time, and Riley looks to be nearly in tears beside him.

 

“You have got to be kidding me…” Riley says over and over as the replay airs on the SmarkTron, showing that Clark’s shoulder was off the mat a few tenths of a second before the three count, saving him from a tie score and possible overtime.

 

Landon, too, looks ready to cry as he rolls onto his back and the camera catches his face, a look of disappointment slowly turning into one of desperation and determination. Maddix slowly gets to his feet and looks down at Alan, who has barely moved since kicking out moments ago.

 

It is then Landon decides to do what most believe is unthinkable…go back to the top rope one more time.

 

“Even I can’t believe this…” Todd Royal mutters backstage as the wrestlers become more and more tense watching the action. Landon climbs to the second rope and points to the sky, crossing his hand across his heart (in the shape of an uppercase ‘T’) before ascending to the top and facing the ring. Even on his bad wheel, Maddix takes the time to center himself and give himself a good bounce before launching into the air…

 

 

 

…rotating backwards slowly but surely…

 

 

 

 

 

…three hundred and sixty degrees…

 

 

 

 

 

 

…to come down with a hard landing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

…on nothing but canvas.

 

“HE MOVED! THAT BASTARD MOVED!”

 

Riley nearly deafens Comet with his call as Landon hits the mat hard, missing Alan Clark by only a few feet as he rolls out of the way.

 

“Landon went high risk and it may have just cost him the championship!”

 

*GOOOOOOONG*

 

“Oh no! Only two minutes left too!” Riley’s head is figuratively spinning at the announce table as the two men work to get up, but the fall took a lot out of Landon, his knee torn to shreds. Alan isn’t much better, using the little bit of extra energy he had to avoid the legdrop, and now it seems only time will tell who will be champion.

 

“Alan Clark has the lead with under two minutes to go, and it seems like this could be the way it ends unless something seriously drastic takes this match to overtime!”

 

“Overtime! Landon should keep the belts if this is a tie! He didn’t technically lose so he should still be the champion.”

 

~~90 seconds remaining~~

 

“As I said earlier I don’t think Citizen Maddix will want to win that way. He has a lot to prove tonight…he wants to defeat Alan Clark!” Comet reminds Riley of the entire reason Maddix accepted the match, but with the clock ticking down and neither man making much sign of movement, it seems the only thing needed now are EMTs.

 

“Get up, Landon…come on!” Megan can be heard from the sidelines…the same words being spoken softly by Todd, as he prays to himself that Landon can get the strength to get up and defeat Alan Clark once and for all.

 

Landon does indeed begin to show signs of life, crawling towards the corner and pulling himself up to his feet. Alan starts to move as well, rolling to his stomach and getting his arms underneath him to help on the long journey back up.

 

“Come on! Come on!” Megan continues, but her voice is nearly drowned out by the sold-out crowd.

 

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

AL-AN! AL-AN! AL-AN!

 

Alan’s head turns and his face shows that he can hear the chants loud and clear, but his body is slow to react, pushing him up to his knees before he can even think about getting to his feet. Landon, on the other hand, is back up and holding on to the top rope, his knee nearly gone after almost an hour of abuse.

 

~~60 seconds remaining~~

 

Alan gets to his feet only seconds after Landon and the two face each other, their eyes lock and Maddix takes the first step, moving toward Alan and looking for a clothesline, but Clark ducks out the way and hops into the air, wrapping his legs around the Disciple’s head and falling back for a hurricanrana!

 

“Rana!”

 

“NO!” Riley laughs as Landon catches Alan upside down and holds him there, putting his legs around Alan’s arms and trapping him before simply falling forward, the move crushing Alan beneath the weight of the champion.

 

“Disciple Clash!” Both announcers yell out in unison, but Landon Maddix isn’t done yet, as he immediately locks his legs around the back of Alan’s head and pushing his knees into his back as he crawls forward, putting Alan’s back and neck into positions they should not be in with only about thirty seconds remaining in the match!

 

~~30 seconds remaining~~

 

“He’s got him locked in the Stretch Landon! Come on tap you bastard!” Riley completely loses any unbiased edge he had and begins begging for Clark to tap out, but the look on Landon’s face shows just as much pain as his knee is being pushed into Alan’s back, causing it even more pain and suffering.

 

~~20 seconds remaining~~

 

“If he doesn’t submit in the next twenty seconds he is going to survive the Iron Man and be champion!” Comet exclaims as Alan stretches his arms for the ropes, but he finds himself simply too far away.

 

“Come on, Alan…” Edward James mutters under his breathe as he stares quietly at the screen, a complete opposite image of Todd Royal, who is standing on his chair screaming at the TV for Alan to tap out.

 

~~10 seconds remaining~~

 

…9…

 

Landon pushes harder on his knees, causing more and more pain for both men, but neither gives an inch…

 

…8…7…

 

“He has to tap!!”

 

…6…

 

Alan screams out loud once again and his arms shoot out in any direction he can get them, trying in vain to reach for the ropes…

 

…5…4…

 

“TAP OUT!!” Landon yells as he also tries to block out the pain, his knees ready to give out at any second…

 

3….2…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sound seems deafening to Alan Clark and Landon Maddix….

 

 

*GONG*

 

 

 

 

Is it over?

 

 

 

 

 

 

*GONG*

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes…

 

 

 

*GONG*

 

It’s finally over.

 

Landon’s body drops at the sound of the final gong and his legs fall free. Both men lie in the center of the ring, neither one moving as the crowd goes dead quiet. Barely a cough can be heard in the arena as Soapdish goes to the ropes, speaking with Funyon for a moment before he makes his official announcement…

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…at the time of the buzzer…there had NOT been a submission…therefore…at a final score of Four to Three…here is your winner and NEEEEEEEEW S-W-F TRIPLE CROWN CHAMPION… ALAN CLARK!!”

 

“NO!!” Both Toxxic and Todd Royal scream at once, throwing their chairs across the room. Todd stares at Edward and leaves quickly as the big man takes the money off the chair, counting it as Toxxic paces back and forth in a huff, thinking the Disciple was a sure bet. Ringside, the crowd explodes in cheers for their new champion, and Bobby Riley still cannot believe it.

 

“He tapped out…I swear he did…I saw him…”

 

“You keep telling yourself that, Robert…but we have a new Triple Crown Champion…he might not look like much of one now but I’m sure when he wakes up to those shiny belts he is going to be one happy camper!”

 

Megan helps pull Landon from the ring and to the floor, meeting up with Todd who has come down to ringside to help carry Maddix backstage, his right leg possibly needing medical attention. Alan Clark is not in too much better shape inside the ring as Nick Soapdish raises his limp wrist in victory and lays the three belts at his head. “Carry On Wayward Son” then begins to blare throughout the arena, ending the night of the House of Todd on a sour note as they walk backstage, only to be passed by a sprinting Edward James, who slides under the bottom rope and over to the downed Clark, trying to help him up to celebrate.

 

“Coy West would be proud…” The Cyclone Comet’s voice is heard as replays of the action are shown, showcasing each point of the match and the final moments, as Alan survives the final seconds of this match in the Stretch Landon and becomes the new Triple Crown Champion. He told the world he would do it, and in the longest hour of his life he accomplished his goal, defeating Landon Maddix in the biggest match of his career.

 

For Alan Clark and Landon Maddix, the 13th Hour has passed. It will be a time they will never forget…no matter how bad they want to. Both men went into tonight as mere mortals, but left as changed men…for better or for worse.

 

Seven months ago…Alan Clark defeated Landon Maddix for the Junior League European Championship. A little over a month later he found The Disciple standing across from him and defeating him not once but twice over the course of three weeks, taking with him two titles that meant the world to Alan. In the SWF, it was all about revenge. In an empty arena, Alan Clark thanked Landon Maddix for taking his championships, leaving him unconscious in the middle of the ring. Tonight in front of a sold-out crowd, Alan Clark was truly on his thirteenth hour…and finally redemption had come to pass.

[the.weej 0]

Walking through the corridors of the Quad Cities Center, tired and sweating from the exertion of the Iron Man Match, Landon Maddix is on his last legs...Megan Skye providing herself as a kickstand to stop Maddix falling to the floor. Gasping for air, Maddix tries to say something but all that comes out is a mumble, so Megan stops.

 

Megan: What's the matter hon...Landon.

 

Maddix: Wa...wate...

 

Megan: You want water?

 

Landon sheepishly nods before clutching his neck, as Megan quickly checks that Maddix is ok on his own feet before scuttling off hurriedly. Now, Maddix has the task of trying to get to his locker-room under his own means...and only gets a couple of steps before he begins to slump forward. Wisely he stops to take a rest against a wall...

 

 

...as two figures, both dressed crisply in matching jet black designer suits appear. The male slides his shades away from his eyes and the camera tracks his gaze down the shapely legs of his female companion, and back up to the suspicious briefcase she’s carrying.

 

Natasha: Hi Landon.

 

Natasha’s voice is sexy and grating at the same time, like a fingerless silk glove giving space for nails to be dragged down a chalkboard. Her companion Chris Card’s educated accent follows.

 

Card: Landon Maddix. You impressed me tonight. You impressed me a lot.

 

Maddix takes a pause and is still breathing heavily from the match as he replies.

 

Maddix: Thanks...I guess.

 

Card: I have a proposal to make. Landon, I think I can make you a champion of far higher standing than even your triple-crown pedigree suggests.

 

Maddix: Well...thanks but no thanks Chris. See...I know Todd's not around...but...I'm still his...his Disciple. Plus, there's Megan, you know?

 

With a wry chuckle, Card shakes his head softly.

 

Card: Let me ask you that question again. N, open the case.

 

Complying, Natasha opens the briefcase, revealing a HUGE sum of cash in neatly organised bundles of notes. The contents of the case are enough for Landon to nearly lose what breath he has left...slumping up against the wall once more, his eyes jarred open at the wads of cash just inches away from him.

 

Card: I have a proposal to make. Landon, I think I can make you a champion of far higher standing than even your triple-crown pedigree suggests.

 

Maddix: Umm…well. World Champion...Landon Maddix. It DOES has a certain ring to it.

 

Taking another look at the money, Maddix manages an impressed whistle and a smirk...as Card grins right back at him.

 

Card: Shake my hand Mr. Maddix.

 

The pair shake hands, as moments later Megan Skye arrives back with the water and looks completely baffled. With another smile, Card pushes his shades back onto the bridge of his nose and nods to Megan.

 

Card: You're a lucky lady. Landon...I'll call you.

 

And with that, Natasha snaps closed the briefcase and walks off with Card, both of them looking decidedly pleased with proceedings. Maddix meanwhile is staring into the thin air where once the money sat, taking the water from Megan and guzzling down as much as his short breath can allow him.

 

Skye: Are you gonna tell me what that was about?

 

Maddix again gasps up as much oxygen as possible, before grinning broadly at The Toddess.

 

Maddix: You're looking...at the future...S W F...World Heavyweight...Champion...

[the.weej 0]

“TICK…”

 

The large clock in the center of the entranceway ticks to XII. On either side is a smaller clock… one is red, one is blue. They’re both set to 12 now, but soon enough they’ll tick to three, then six, and one man’s will tick past 10.

 

“TICK…”

 

The large clock’s pendulum swings from side to side, as the electric atmosphere in the Mark of the Quad Cities Center comes to a head! The fans hold signs, wear t-shirts and swear their allegiances to Janus, Danny Williams, Dace Night and Tom Flesher! They know that there are only two matches left. This, they know, is the match that will either shorten a career or propel it to new levels of success.

 

“TICK…”

 

This is a match wrestled only once before, and brought out of mothballs as a last-grasp tiebreaker between two men so evenly matched that they tied a five-match series 2-2.

 

“TICK…”

 

This is Canadian Death.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, decked out in his once-a-year airbrushed jacket featuring Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory,” “the following match is the fifth in a series of five, will determine the number-one contender to the SWF World Championship, and will be a Canadian Deathmatch!”

 

The fans cheer, and then, as always, go quiet.

 

After several seconds…

 

An explosion of blue pyro and smoke lights up the arena, and Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” begins to blare over the speakers! The smoke clears, and Tom Flesher walks out from behind the pendulum in his blue warm-up suit. Next to him is Allison Onita, dressed in dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a dark denim jacket. She escorts him through the smoke and they walk forward together, fireworks going off in the background. As Allison escorts Flesher, the fans boo them both loudly. Flesher simply shoos them off with a flick of the wrist, and they enter the ring together. The pair strikes a pose, Flesher holding his chin and smirking, Onita curling up against him so close that it’s hard to tell where one stops and the other begins. The music fades, and Funyon begins his announcement.

 

“The first competitor, accompanied by Allison Onita… from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 231 pounds, he is ‘the Superior One,’ TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Flesher poses, prompting the fans to boo loudly. He shoos them away, sneering, as Allison helps him strip off his wamup suit. He grins and kisses her lewdly as she exits the ring, then begins stretching out as his music fades.

 

“And his opponent…”

 

The fans begin to cheer immediately. “Hero” by Nightrage kicks up over the speakers, and the fans burst into cheers. The shredding guitar harmonies rock the arena and the beats blast while the clock tower lights up with white pyro! The crowd chants, “DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT!” as the High Priest of Horrorcore steps out of the curtain and walks through the smoke and pyro to an enormous pop. His Emperor shirt shows as he steps into the spotlight. He throws the metal horns, extending his index finger and pinkie, and the fans return the gesture.

 

“From Birmingham, England, and weighing in at 252 pounds… he is the High Priest of Horrorcore… he is DACE…”

 

The crowd shouts, “FUCKING!”

 

“NIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

 

Dace walks to the ring, then slides in. He climbs the turn buckle, once again throwing the horns. Again, the fans return the gesture. Dace climbs down, and as his music fades, the “DACE F’N NIGHT!” chants continue.

 

“This is it,” says Cyclone Comet. “Tonight, Tom Flesher and Dace Night settle their scores. They’ve been matched evenly thus far, and they’ve put on some excellent clinics of wrestling and brawling technique. Tonight, they’re out for blood in this Canadian Deathmatch! Let’s go to the ring!”

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

“And this one is underway!” says Bobby Riley.

 

 

The scoreboard reads 0-0, a fresh start. Just like game seven of the Stanley Cup or World Series, two wrestlers have fought their way through a set of matches against each other and come out even. Now, it all boils down to this. A combined ten-count wins the match, and the rest of the series doesn’t mean anything. This Canadian Deathmatch will settle once and for all the best-of-five.

 

Tom Flesher and Dace Night seem to know that. They stare at each other in the center, knowing that after five matches in the past five shows – four singles, one six-man – each one probably knows what his opponent will do before he does. Thus, it probably comes as no surprise to Tom Flesher when Dace reaches out and slams his right elbow into his jaw! Unfortunately, Flesher still hasn’t figured out exactly how to defend.

 

*CRACK*

 

“Absolutely sickening blow on the part of Citizen Night,” says Comet. “Though Tom Flesher has made some progress, particularly in match four, he simply can’t slug it out with the High Priest of Horrorcore, and it’s foolish for him to try to do so.”

 

“I didn’t see him trying anything,” Riley sneers. “I saw a suckerpunch, nothing more, nothing less.”

 

The fans burst into cheers as Dace levels Flesher with an elbow to open the match! Flesher staggers backwards, only to eat another elbowsmash to the face!

 

*CRACK*

 

Flesher drops to one knee, prompting another cheer from the crowd! Dace Night, however, knows from experience that he can’t leave Flesher to his own devices. With that in mind, he pops a knee up and into the kneeling warrior’s face, knocking him down to the mat! Dace drops down onto him, covering him for

 

 

ONE!

 

 

but no more, as Flesher kicks out. He sits up, but Night grabs him from behind and locks his hands around Flesher’s waist! Flesher reaches down, locking his hands onto Dace’s and struggling to break his grip. He stands up, arching his back and finally breaking Dace’s lock, then spinning around to face him! Rather than back away, Night simply grabs Flesher by the head and yanks him into a collar-and-elbow tie! He grabs Flesher by the wrist and whips him to the ropes. As Flesher bounces off, Night spins back around, cocking his elbow to nail Flesher in the face. Tom ducks, though, and hits the opposite ropes! He rebounds, sprinting toward Dace… only to eat an elbow anyway! Dace steps forward and clocks Flesher with an elbow to the jaw, sending him back to the mat! Dace once again covers him for

 

 

ONE!

 

 

Again, though, Flesher kicks out early.

 

“You’re not seeing any of the nice-guy wrestling and deference,” notes Comet. “Citizen Night knows Tom Flesher inside-out, and vice versa. Rather, you’re going to see these two combatants beating the life out of each other, pursuing that combined ten-count to win the number-one contendership.”

 

“And I bet Dace Night is going to pull out all that horrorcore crap,” Riley whines. “Light tubes and tables and shit. Why can’t they just have something normal, like a submission match?”

 

“Surely you’re not implying that Allison Onita is going to stand idly by throughout the match,” Comet says.

 

“What? She’s a nice girl. She wouldn’t do anything wrong.”

 

Before Flesher can get to his feet, Night grabs him by the head and walks him over to the corner, then slams him face-first into the turnbuckle! Flesher starts to stagger back, but Dace holds him by the head and slams him into the turnbuckle back-first. Then, he grabs Flesher by the arm and whips him across the ring, sending him flying into the opposite corner! Flesher crashes into the turnbuckles and staggers out, only to have Dace shove him back in. With Flesher slumped between the ropes, Dace unleashes a knife-edge chop on him!

 

*SMACK* “WHOO!”

 

“And Dace Night is unleashing a series of chops on Tom Flesher’s chest!” says Cyclone Comet. “Flesher doesn’t look like he’s enjoying this, but it’s this sort of beating that’s necessary to exorcise the evil!”

 

Dace unloads another chop across Flesher’s chest…

 

*SMACK* “WHOO!”

 

and another…

 

*SMACK* “WHOO!”

 

and winds up for yet another, only to be stopped in his tracks by the Superior One driving his boot flush into the High Priest’s groin! Dace staggers back, and Flesher makes his way out of the corner.

 

“Speaking of exercising evil,” winces Riley, “that was quite the impressive low-blow by Flesher. Of course, it’s perfectly legal, as the only thing that matters in a Canadian Deathmatch is a fall over three counts.”

 

With Dace doubled over in pain, Flesher takes the opportunity to grab a breather. He whacks Night with a backhand, and Dace drops to one knee, grimacing from the pain of a full-powered kick to the crotch. Tom walks over to his corner, where Allison Onita waits holding her purse. She opens it and pulls out a handkerchief, and when Flesher leans out between the ropes, she dutifully blots the sweat off his forehead. They share a few moments of conversation, drowned out by the booing of the fans, before Dace starts to get to his feet. With that, Flesher says, “I’ll be right back,” and then moves back to the center of the ring.

 

“How is that excusable?” fumes Comet. “Not only is he showing a blatant disregard for his opponent, but he’s also accepting assistance from someone not involved in the match!”

 

“Oh, don’t get your cape in a bunch,” Riley says. “Allison’s just coaching, the way Mr. Nagasaki just coached Ash Ketchum. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

Flesher grabs Dace by the head, then pulls him back into a front headlock. He threads one arm under Dace’s shoulder and steps forward, trying to hit the Cement Job… only to have Night clamp down on the underhook and shoot his free arm between Flesher’s thighs! He pulls hard on the underhook and leans to the side, countering out of the front headlock with a fireman’s carry takeover! As the fans cheer, Flesher rolls away, getting back to his feet and Night stands in front of him, his eyes aglow.

 

“Dace Night grabs a lucky takedown,” Riley says, “and thinks he’s proving something to Tom Flesher. What a maroon.”

 

“Odd you should choose that word, Robert. Before too long, I’m sure one of these wrestlers will indeed be maroon, or at least crimson. If it be Citizen Flesher, there will be an interesting color combination at the very least, mixing the red blood with the blue of his singlet and the inky black of his evil aura.”

 

“Hmm… purple singlet… interesting…”

 

Before Flesher can position himself, Night corners him and throws another stiff chop!

 

*SMACK* “WHOO!”

 

Flesher staggers back against the ropes and, anticipating a further assault, leans against the ropes and frantically holds up his hands, begging off. Dace sneers and backs away, giving Flesher an opening to throw a palm strike! Night, though, sees it coming and blocks it with his left hand as he swings his right elbow across and nails Flesher in the jaw!

 

*CRACK*

 

Flesher slumps against the ropes, allowing Dace to grab him in a front facelock and pull him a few steps toward the center. Dace ducks down, trying to lift Flesher for a suplex, but the Superior One grapevines a leg to block it. Rather than fight to get to his opponent up and over, Night simply releases Flesher, who swings the grapevined leg out and executes a picture-perfect inside trip! Night, caught off guard, spills to the mat, and Flesher hooks his left ankle. He dives forward, pulling Dace’s leg over his body and somersaulting to snap the leg forward! He releases it, and Dace’s leg snaps back into position as Tom gets to his feet. Night is, of course, a beat behind, as he shakes the leg to check on the damage that’s been caused. He sits up, and as Flesher’s eyes glint, Tom leaps into the air and unloads a dropkick to the back of Dace’s head! Dace falls forward, then springs back onto his back! Flesher covers for

 

 

ONE!

 

 

The crowd cheers, though, as Dace kicks out with ease! Flesher shakes his head, disappointed, but quickly gets back to his feet and yanks Dace up by the arm.

 

“Tom Flesher takes advantage of a mistimed release by Dace Night, and parlays it into a one-count,” Riley says. “That right there is what this match is about… both these wrestlers are able to goad each other into making mistakes, but the one who capitalizes on them is the man who’s going to get the plus in the win column.”

 

Flesher uses his grip on Night’s arm to open space for a duck-under, trying to spin behind his adversary and take him to the mat. Night, though, shuffles backwards, avoiding the takedown and leaving Flesher a few steps in front of him. Flesher smirks and dives down, snagging Night by the ankle and starting a low single-leg takedown! “He got him!” says Riley, but Night doesn’t give up as easily. He drops to his knees, coming down on the back of Flesher’s head with a diving elbow! Flesher releases the ankle and flattens out, caught completely off-guard! Without wasting a second, Night spins behind Flesher and locks his hands around his waist. Night capitalizes on Flesher’s inability to counter by hoisting him off the mat, lifting him into the air for a German suplex! He arches backwards and bridges, tossing Tom onto his shoulders! The crowd screams its approval as the official counts

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

NO! Flesher rolls to the side, breaking the pin and Dace’s lock! He bellies down on the mat, and Dace follows him over. Knowing better than to try the lift again, Night turns to the front and pulls Flesher’s arm out, looking for a hammerlock. Flesher turns and faces Night, avoiding being caught under his heavier foe on the mat.

 

“Smart move by Flesher,” Riley says. “Even though he’s an accomplished mat wrestler, Dace Night has shown in this series that he’s capable of fighting on the mat, and with that kind of weight advantage, Flesher can’t afford to be giving up injuries this early on.”

 

“Fortunately, Dace Night has also proven that he can hold his own on his feet. Could it be that he’s established himself as anathema? Kryptonite, perhaps, to Flesher’s Superiorman?”

 

Night continues controlling the arm, though, and jerks it forward, driving a knee into Flesher’s abdomen! Flesher staggers forward, while Night simply pivots and whips him to the ropes! As Flesher bounces off, Night steps forward and drives his knee into his stomach once again! Tom rolls forward, somersaulting from the impact and landing on his back! Night drops a knee onto his chest and hooks a leg, looking at the official.

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

NO!!!!

 

 

“Dace Night is taking no chances,” Comet says. “At every opportunity, he looks for the fall. He knows that even though he’s been able to pin Flesher twice in this series, those falls don’t come easily, and so every chance he gets will be spent on looking for a three-count.”

 

Flesher rolls out from under Night and starts to get to his feet. Night reflexively hooks his arm and starts to throw an Irish whip, but this time Flesher plants his feet on the mat. As he stops the motion, he pivots, sending Night to the ropes instead! Dace bounces off the ropes, and Flesher hooks him by the arm. Night hits the mat hard after the hiptoss, then quickly sits up. Flesher takes advantage of that by diving forward, grabbing Night’s head and executing a rolling neck snap! Night falls to the mat, and Flesher rolls to his feet. He looks down at Dace, then raises an eyebrow and points at Allison. Dutifully, Flesher’s bitch starts golf-clapping for him, drawing a round of boos from the crowd. Flesher smirks and bows sardonically, prompting the fans to boo even louder. He looks up with a sneer, then makes a shooing-away motion and turns his attention back to Dace.

 

“You know,” muses Comet, “I always wonder why Citizen Taamo still tries to get the fans to cheer for him. It’s as if he doesn’t realize they can sense pure evil, which has been confirmed by the routine soul-smear performed on Flesher before the match this evening.”

 

“Oh, you forget so quickly,” Riley sighs. “Those pigeons applauded everything he did for six months. It was all he could do to keep them from following him to the bathroom. Anything else you try to pass off is just revisionism, and you should be ashamed of yourself for it.”

 

“And now the only adversity he finds in bathroom privacy is a certain SWF employee, correct, Robert?”

 

“Listen, what Allison and Tom do on their own time is their own business.”

 

“True, but Allison isn’t the one filming it.”

 

Night sits up, and Flesher charges toward him. Before Dace knows what hit him, Flesher’s Doc Marten smacks him upside the head, and he collapses back to the mat from the impact of the mini-Yakuza kick! Flesher keeps him on the mat by dropping a knee across his forehead, then grabs him by the arms. With Dace sufficiently stunned, Flesher has no trouble dragging him to the corner and seating him in the proper position, then slamming a boot into his face! The fans shower Flesher with invective, but Tom simply flicks another toe kick at Dace’s chin, snapping his head back. As Allison sashays over to the corner and cheers him on, Flesher plants the sole of his boot on Night’s face. He scrapes it off, and Dace grimaces in pain! He covers his face, but Flesher kicks his hands away and plants his boot on the face again. Once again, he scrapes the boot across Dace’s visage, and once again, the Hardcore Goth covers up in hopes of avoiding it. Flesher simply kicks them away again and plants the sole of his boot on Dace’s cheek. This time, he scrapes as slowly as he can, holding on to the ropes for balance. As slowly as he can, he grinds the sole of his boot across Dace’s face, smirking as he does. He looks down, watching the rubber pull the flesh of Dace’s face out of position until finally, with a powerful kick, he pulls his boot away! Dace’s face twists into a mask of agony as he covers it up again; meanwhile, Flesher just backs away, crossing his arms across his chest and admiring his handiwork.

 

“And there we have it,” says Bobby Riley. “Even if, god forbid, Flesher loses, we’ll have this one perfect photograph of Dace on his ass and Flesher standing above him, the way things always have been and god willing always will be.”

 

Dace finally shakes off the pain, but Flesher steps in, this time planting his boot across his neck! He grabs the top rope and leans back, pushing his boot across Night’s windpipe and choking the life out of him! Night struggles to get free, but Flesher simply forces more and more of his weight onto the Hardcore Goth’s trachea, trying with all his might to choke him out! Dace grimaces, but can’t muster the strength to push Flesher off! Finally, as he starts to turn colors, Flesher backs away, leaving Dace to gasp impotently for air.

 

“You can’t possibly call that fair,” says Comet. “Tom Flesher is totally abusing the no-disqualification stipulation of this match!”

 

“Yeah, that’s a shame,” Riley yawns. “I hope he gets slapped on the wrist for that.”

 

Dace lays in the corner, gulping lungsfull of air. Flesher grabs him by the ankles and drags him to the center, where he lazily lays across Dace’s chest for

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!!!

 

 

“Citizen Night avoids giving up a fall in the wake, and Tom Flesher chokes not only his opponent but also on pay-per-view,” notes Comet.

 

“Now that’s just not fair,” Riley protests. “Tom Flesher is one of the few competitors to have a winning record on pay-per-view, even if a disproportionate number of his losses have come here. Damn you, Magnifico! Damn you, Orochi!”

 

“Damn you, Ted Flink!”

 

The fans cheer as Dace gets his shoulder up in ample time, but Tom Flesher simply scowls. He grabs Dace by the Emperor t-shirt and yanks him to his feet, then throws him over the top rope and to the floor! Flesher grabs the middle rope, then watches Dace like a hawk. As the Brummie Goth starts to get to his feet, Flesher swings out, using the ropes for balance, and hammers him in the jaw with a dropkick! Dace staggers back, falling into the guardrail. Flesher gets back up and takes a few steps back. Then, as Night starts back toward the ring, Flesher drops to the mat in a baseball slide and dropkicks him again! This time, though, he follows through into a headscissors. As Night struggles to break the grip, Flesher reclines on the mat, grinning at Allison (who dutifully applauds for her man). As Dace regains some of his senses, Flesher decides he probably should go somewhere with the hold – specifically, a little to the left. He rolls to the side, pulling Dace by the head as he rolls across the mat! Dace’s head nearly gets ripped from his shoulders as he gets yanked off his feet and thrown head-over-heels to the concrete floor! Flesher nonchalantly rolls out of the ring to retrieve the ineffectual heap of Dace, then tosses him back into the ring. He follows Night in, then covers him with a leg hooked. The referee counts

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!!!

 

 

 

TH- NO!!!!!!

 

 

The fans burst into cheers as Dace shoots his arm off the mat, avoiding giving up the first three-count by only a hair’s breadth! Frustrated, Flesher gets up, once again grabbing Night by the t-shirt. This time, though, he doesn’t guide Dace to the ropes. Instead, he pulls Dace back and locks his hands around his waist, then ducks his head under Dace’s arms! As the fans scream for Dace to break out, Flesher starts to lift him off the mat! Dace sandbags, though, and clamps down on Flesher’s head! He locks on a side headlock, prompting a round of cheers from the crowd for saving himself from Flesher’s backdrop driver!

 

“Dace Night escapes Tom Flesher’s deadly backdrop driver, and instead counters into a side headlock!” says Comet.

 

“Oh, crap, not this again,” Riley groans.

 

Night holds on to the headlock, and Flesher immediately goes to work trying to fight his way out. Before he can, though, Dace tightens the lock again and pulls Flesher over his hip, executing a textbook side headlock takeover! Surprised, Flesher lands hard on his back, and Dace pulls his head off the mat! The referee counts

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

NO!!! Flesher rolls over onto his stomach. Night pulls Flesher’s arm, trying to tilt him back onto his shoulders, but Flesher throws a tight-waist in and keeps Night from putting him on his back again. Night resigns himself to the fact that he won’t be pinning Flesher with the side headlock, then starts back to his feet. Flesher follows him up, keeping his lock around Dace’s waist. They struggle, each man trying to gain the positional advantage, with Flesher trying again and again to lift Dace for a backdrop driver. Night clamps down on the headlock one more time, though, so instead, Flesher steps forward and shoots Dace off to the ropes! Dace rebounds, and Flesher steps forward, shooting a palm strike into his jaw! Night collapses to the mat, and Flesher dives onto him for

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!! Dace kicks out! Flesher lifts him up, not giving him a second to breathe, and then whips him to the ropes again. He thrusts his palm forward again, looking for another shotei, but instead gets a face full of boot! Flesher collapses from Dace Night’s Yakuza kick, and Night covers him for

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!!!

 

 

 

THR- NO!!!

 

“Tom Flesher and Dace Night exchange near-falls,” says Cyclone Comet, “with Night gaining the upper hand toward the end. One has to expect that with the pace picking up as it has been, these two wrestlers won’t be able to maintain it for long, and one will be thrown into a whirlwind of disadvantage.”

 

“You know, Comet, sometimes you’re like one of those magnetic poetry things. It’s like some guy’s feeding you words that you just try to work in whether they fit or not.”

 

“What? It’s a perfectly cromulent construction, Robert.”

 

Still stunned, Flesher starts to get to his feet, but Dace blocks him on one knee and underhooks his arms! Seeing his life flash before his eyes, Flesher frantically pulls back from the double underhook, knowing that it can only end badly for him, but Dace fights to pull him up into the Defenestration! Flesher pulls back once again, and this time… Night releases him, only to smash an elbow into the back of his head! Flesher flops down, but Dace quickly grabs the underhooks again. With Flesher out on his feet, Night hoists him into the air at a 45-degree angle, then plants him headfirst on the mat!

 

“DEFENESTRATION~!” shouts Comet, “and Flesher’s hopes for the first score go flying out the window!!!!”

 

“Oh, god,” Riley murmurs nauseously. “That was awful.”

 

Night covers Flesher, and the referee counts

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

 

 

FO- NO~! “And Flesher kicks out before Dace can get the four-count,” Riley says. As the camera focuses in on Night and Flesher, the red clock to the right of the functioning clock tower clicks from 12 to 3. The fans cheer as Flesher lays stunned on the mat, trying to gain some sense of clarity back.

 

“Dace Night has drawn first blood!” marvels Comet.

 

“Sure, but he only got three,” Riley scoffs.

 

“In the face of almost no prior attacks, that’s nearly all he could hope for,” says Comet, “and a three-count is absolutely nothing to sneeze at.”

 

Flesher sits up, still not all there. Dace, hoping to capitalize on his state, plants a boot in his face and kicks him back to the mat, then covers him again!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

THR- NO!!!!! Flesher rolls a shoulder off the mat, and Dace realizes that he’s going to have to work harder for his next score. He reaches down, grabbing Flesher by the head and yanking him to his feet, then slams him into the nearest set of buckles before nailing him with a forearm smash that knocks him silly for another second or two. Dace drops to one knee and lunches forward, slamming his shoulder into Flesher’s abdomen! Flesher doubles over, the wind knocked out of him. Dace attacks again, once more driving his shoulder into Tom’s gut! Flesher grimaces, obviously in pain, as Dace backs away. He measures Flesher up and throws an elbow… only to be caught off-guard with a kick to the thigh! Flesher shoves Dace away and keeps him at bay with a series of quick kicks to the quad, avoiding Night’s attack by simply abusing the reach difference!

 

“Flesher shows what kind of thought he’s put into this final match,” Riley says. “He knows he’s not going to be able to absorb the kind of smash-mouth, balls-to-the-wall striking that Dace Night dishes out with those elbows…”

 

“Shades of Danny Williams, Mitsuharu Misawa and Steve Yzerman,” Comet adds.

 

“… and so he’s keeping Dace away by capitalizing on the simple physics equation of ‘leg is greater than arm.’”

 

“That’s not an equation, Robert, that’s in inequality.”

 

“A ha, but the inequality is simply manifesting itself in an analogy to the competition in the ring,” Riley says.

 

“I wish I’d never bought you that SAT prep book,” the superhero sighs.

 

Night throws another elbow, but Flesher shoos him away with another kick, this time pushing him off at the stomach! As Dace staggers backwards, Tom steps forward and unleashes a huge chop across his chest!

 

*SMACK* “WHOO!”

 

Dace shrugs the impact off, but Flesher takes advantage of the momentary distraction by jumping up and nailing Dace in the kneecap with a low dropkick! The High Priest of Horrorcore collapses to the mat, and Flesher quickly regains his footing. He grabs Dace by the leg and, smirking, slams his boot into his opponent’s hamstring! Dace cringes as Flesher assaults his leg, and Flesher unloads a second kick to the left ham. As Dace tries to recoil, Flesher simply hooks the leg and steps around, rotating for a spinning toehold! The fans boo as Flesher grins, applying inhuman amounts of torque to Dace’s leg as he executes another spinning toehold, twisting the knee to the side. He spins around once more, but this time, Dace plants a boot into Flesher’s back and kicks him away! Flesher hits the ropes and turns around as Dace tries to get up off the mat. He moves slowly, his leg still sore, and Flesher takes advantage of the situation. He struts to Dace’s side, walking toward the injured leg. Before Dace can pivot on the leg, Flesher simply sweeps his foot into the pit of the knee, taking him to the mat in one of the most insulting ways possible.

 

“Are you watching this?” cackles Riley. “Flesher can do anything he wants with Dace Night. It’s almost like that first fall didn’t happen at all.”

 

“Citizen Taamo is certainly benefiting from a rush of adrenaline as the result of his fall from grace earlier in the match, but he simply can’t maintain this level of assault on the White Night’s knee,” Comet says. “And, soon enough, he’ll be feeling the pain of the beating that he took to open the match.”

 

Flesher grabs Dace by the ankle and casually walks toward his head. As he bends the leg up across Dace’s body, the former Unholy Trinity member’s face twists up in a pained expression, and finally, Flesher snaps the ankle down, nearly to Dace’s face! When he lets go, the leg springs back to the mat, and Dace’s face furrows in pain. Flesher steps back, smirking and admiring his handiwork as Dace tries to ignore the burning pain and rolls to his knees. Tom shuffles a step back, anxiously waiting for Dace to get back to his feet. When he does, Flesher swings a foot out and nails him in the patella again, sending Dace down to one knee and giving Flesher an opening for his front facelock! As soon as Flesher dives onto him and snags the headlock, the fans begin to boo. Flesher shrugs as if to say, “Hey, what do you want me to do?” and clamps down on Dace’s neck. This time, though, instead of underhooking the arm, he blocks the shoulder with his elbow, making sure not to give Dace any avenue for escape.

 

“Tom Flesher, one of the technical masters in the SWF today, shows that he can segue seamlessly between attacks,” says Bobby Riley. “He’s using the leg attack to slow Dace down, and then using the opening to implement his main attacks. Genius, I tell you. Just brilliant.”

 

The fans don’t find it brilliant, though, as much as…

 

“BOOORING! BOOORING!”

 

“Oh, come on,” Riley sighs. “These people just don’t understand that – Comet, is that you?”

 

The camera quickly flashes to Comet, his hands cupped around his mouth, and his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

 

“Jesus, Comet, don’t encourage them!” Riley spits, smacking his broadcast partner upside the head.

 

Flesher leans on Night, holding the headlock until the High Priest stops trying to fight his way out of it. Flesher grins broadly as Dace’s arm hangs limply by his side. With that, the Superior One stands tall and jerks Dace’s head up, then arches back! He pulls Dace over in a front headlock suplex, bridging back in a textbook suplex position before floating over on top and pulling Dace’s head off the mat to plant his shoulders to the canvas! The referee counts

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

THREE- NO!!!!

 

 

“WHAT?!” Flesher screams, looking at the official. He holds Dace’s head off the mat, giving the referee a clear view of the shoulders… and sure enough, one is completely off the mat. Flesher scowls and rolls through, keeping the front headlock on. He sprawls back, extending Dace’s body on the mat and giving him no opportunity to escape. He slides up Dace’s body, then hooks his arms under the High Priest’s hips! He starts to stand, and the fans begin to boo as they see Flesher going for the Ego Buster! He manages to get Dace up off the mat, just a few inches… before Dace clamps down on his elbow and rolls to the side! The Hardcore Goth executes a picture-perfect Peterson roll, pulling Flesher over his hip and onto his back! The fans burst into cheers as Night sprawls over Flesher, covering him for

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

but no more, as Flesher kicks out easily! Flesher tries to shove Night off, but…

 

*CRACK*

 

Dace uses the opening to nail him in the face with a sickeningly stiff elbowsmash! Flesher’s head snaps back, and Dace covers him again!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!!

 

 

Flesher, his eyes glazed over, lays on the mat, getting his shoulder off the mat by instinct alone. Dace grabs his head and tries to cover him again, but Flesher kicks him away. Even when Dace sprawls down over him, Tom throws wild kicks and slides away, trying to keep from getting caught under his opponent again. After he manages to shake Dace off, he throws a quick boot into Dace’s kneecap, sending the Hardcore Goth a few steps back and buying himself some time.

 

“Tom Flesher is absolutely on the defensive,” Cyclone Comet points out. “He’s staggering back, avoiding standing toe-to-toe with the White Night because he knows that he’ll be slain like a vile henchman being caned in Singapore.”

 

“I swear, you’re just one walking nonsequitur, Comet…”

 

“You wouldn’t say that if I was black.”

 

Flesher gets to his feet as Dace stands up, shaking out the limb. Flesher stalks around him, getting his wind back and quickly throwing a kick to the knee that once again takes Horrorcore’s leg out from under him. Flesher slides in behind him, capitalizing on the position and locking his arms around Dace’s waist! He stands up, trying to force his way into a German suplex! He strains, but Night simply tries to hug the mat!

 

“And here, you see the lengths to which Tom Flesher has been forced to go. Down three to zero, Flesher knows that he can’t afford to keep allowing Dace the same kind of offense he’s been absorbing, and so he’s resorting to forcing moves and hoping his sloppy technique will win him the match,” Comet says. “If I were Flesher, I’d be ashamed to show my face in public.”

 

“Uh, Comet?” asks Riley.

 

Comet turns toward Riley, a curious expression on his spandex-clad face. “Yes?”

 

“Oh, never mind,” Riley sighs.

 

Flesher adjusts his grip and lifts Dace to his feet, forcing Night to start defending instead of simply trying to avoid the throw. Night obliges, arching his hips forward to break Flesher’s grip and then hitting a standing switch! Feeling Dace getting into position for the German, and not wanting to give up another fall, Flesher dives for the canvas! He hugs the mat, and a moment later, Dace breaks his grip and gives up on the German. Flesher breathes a sigh of relief, but quickly gasps it back in as Dace grabs him from behind by the neck and clamps down into a chokehold! Flesher flails, trying to break the hold, but Dace adeptly snags his arm and locks his hands around Flesher’s neck! He stands up, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and arches back!

 

*CRUNCH*

 

“Good Fucking Night Irene~!” shouts Comet as Flesher lands on the crown of his head on the mat! He stiffens and rolls over onto his stomach, but Dace Night quickly follows him over. Even as he winces from the pain of bridging explosively to hoist Flesher up and over, he rolls Flesher onto his back and makes sure to hook the leg. The referee counts

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!!!

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

FOUR- NO!!!! The referee waives it off as Flesher shakes a shoulder off the mat, distinctly without authority but with enough force to break up the pin. Dace leans back and looks up. While Flesher’s blue clock is stuck at 12, Dace’s turns from 3 to 6! A loud “BONG” echoes through the arena as the clock strikes once, when Dace moves through the halfway point! The crowd screams its approval while Dace backs away and breathes.

 

“Dace Night leads six to nothing, nearly insurmountable,” says Comet. “He’s over halfway toward the win, and the SWF number-one contendership! Of course, the winner will face the winner of the match immediately to follow!”

 

“That’s the same way Dace caught him in match one,” says Riley, disgustedly. “I can’t believe Taamo got caught again like that!”

 

“Well, you know what they say, Robert. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, I must have unshakeable ring rust that results in me hemorrhaging losses.”

 

Flesher sits up, massaging his 18-inch neck as he tries to comprehend how far behind he is. Six to zero, against a guy who’s taken him to the limit for the past five shows. He slides to the sidelines, trying to get a moment to free his mind, but Dace follows him over to the ropes! Dace throws a chop, but Flesher palms him away, trying to retreat into his shell. Dace charges at him, but Flesher ducks down and throws him over the top rope! The crowd gasps as Dace goes over the top and falls straight to the concrete with a splat! They burst into a chant of “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” as Night lays in a heap on the concrete. Flesher turns around, sighing and scowling at his opponent.

 

“Dace Night takes a long walk off a short pier,” giggles Riley, “and Tom Flesher nets himself a few minutes to plot out strategy.”

 

Sure enough, Flesher steps into the nearest corner and kneels, where Allison Onita waits for him. She once again blots his forehead with a towel, and they can be seen discussing aspects of the match as Dace stays flat on the concrete. Flesher squints and holds his head, clearly still feeling the effects of the Defenestration and the Good F’N Night.

 

“It seems as if Citizen Night is beginning to stir,” says Comet. Sure enough, Dace Night pushes himself up, and though obviously still shaken, he crawls over to the apron and grabs onto it to help pull himself to his feet. Flesher shakes his head and stands up, turning his attention back to Night. As Dace peeks up over the apron, Kilroy-style, Flesher dives toward him feet-first! He hits Dace in the face with his baseball slide dropkick, sending him back toward the steel guardrail, and lands on his feet on the concrete. As Dace gets up, Flesher attacks him with a stepping palm strike that sends him careening back into the guardrail, then grabs him by the back of the shirt. He holds Night’s collar and pulls back, choking him and guiding him toward the nearest cornerpost. Dace, too stunned to defend, eats steel as Flesher slams him into the ringpost, then lets him collapse to the concrete!

 

“There’s what he needs,” says Riley approvingly. “Tom Flesher and Allison Onita must have had a serious discussion over in the corner, and I don’t mean about spit or swallow. Flesher’s showing some fire, and he’s opening up a little bit. He’s rarely if ever willing to fight on the outside, especially against a guy like Dace Night, but he knows that if he’s going to win this one, he needs to be able to.”

 

Flesher grabs Night by the head and slaps on a front facelock, but doesn’t look for the standard Cement Job. Instead, he hoists Dace off the concrete and holds him upside down. As he stalls, he focuses on the concrete floor, then quickly turns Dace around! He sits out, slamming the Hardcore Goth back-first onto the unforgiving floor with the Superiority Complex!

 

“Talk about your cement drops! That was the Superiority Complex,” says Riley, “a variation on the Falcon Arrow that Edwin MacPhisto popularized in avalanche form. Edwin, of course, won the only Canadian Deathmatch the SWF had ever seen before, which I think bodes well for Tom Flesher.”

 

“How dare you compare Tom Flesher to Edwin MacPhisto! Not only had he twice the talent, but his theme song was infinitely cooler.”

 

“Well, I agree on the talent, but I think ‘Kashmir’ is only slightly cooler than Battleflag, not quite ‘infinitely.’”

 

Dace lays on the concrete as Flesher gets up, his chest heaving from the fatigue. He lifts Dace off the concrete and rolls him into the ring, then follows him in. The referee watches as Flesher covers Night for

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

THREE! – NO!!!!! Dace kicks out, and Flesher sits up. His eyes open wide, bloodshot and red, and he stares daggers at the referee. He scowls and throws a forearm down across Dace’s face, then grinds it across the bridge of his nose. He covers again, staring at the official.

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

THREE!!!!! – NO!!!!!! Dace gets a shoulder up! Fuming, Flesher stands up and grabs his bleary-eyed adversary’s left leg, then stands up and applies a spinning toehold to keep him in place. As he forces the leg past its natural limit, he shouts, “ALLISON! Get me that damn chair!” He keeps his grip on the toehold, waiting as Allison Onita dutifully shoves Spanish announcer KJ Sanchez off of his chair and folds it up. Caught by surprise, Sanchez turns to his broadcast partner, the legendary Exploding Chicken, and chatters incomprehensibly for a moment before taking a knee behind the table. Allison throws the folded chair into the ring. When Flesher sees it, he releases the toehold and sets the chair up, its seat pointing at the corner. The official tries to wave Flesher out of the way, but the Superior One simply knocks him aside! Dace Night, meanwhile, shakes off the muscle cramping from the extended leglock. Flesher slides past him and climbs to the top rope, sitting on the turnbuckle. He patiently waits for Dace to get up, carefully catching his breath.

 

“Here we go,” says Riley. “I think we all know what’s coming, but…”

 

“I don’t think we’ve ever seen…”

 

Dace slowly gets to his feet, but as soon as his head gets to the right height, Flesher grabs it with both hands! He pulls Night to the corner and plants his knee into the Brummie Goth’s brain stem! Flesher takes a deep breath and leaps off the top rope, driving Dace forward with an Ego Trip… straight into the chair! The fans break into a “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” chant as Dace’s face hits the seat of the steel chair, and his body goes limp! Sneering, Flesher’s eyes light up, and he covers Dace!

 

“THIS COULD BE IT!” shouts Riley!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

FOUR!!!!!!!

 

 

 

FIVE!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

SHOULDER UP! Dace, barely there, rocks a shoulder off the mat, avoiding the sixth count by only a heartbeat! Flesher smirks as the blue clock ticks from 12 to one, two, three, four, and five. The score now stands six to five, with the Hardcore Goth maintaining a slim lead.

 

Instead of letting Dace breathe, though, Flesher keeps the pressure on. He goes for another lateral press, covering Dace for

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

NO!!!! Dace gets a shoulder up again, and although it’s by no means explosive, it’s enough to let Flesher, the referee and the Illinois crowd know that he’s not going down yet. Flesher backs away, looking down at his opponent. Dace Night, the High Priest of Horrorcore, now has dual rivulets of red streaming from his nose.

 

“That was utterly sadistic,” marvels Riley. “Flesher hit that Ego Trip onto a steel chair, and… look at him! He loves what he sees!”

 

Flesher, not wanting to waste any more energy than necessary, takes a step back and stares at Night. Dace slowly starts to get up, but Flesher grabs him by the head and ushers him to the turnbuckle, then slams him into the pad! Dace staggers backwards, but Flesher quickly takes him back under control. He grabs Dace by the head and lifts him up for a vertical suplex, then tries to stall. He begins to wobble, too fatigued to put on a show, and instead just makes a quarter-turn. He dumps Dace stomach-first over the top rope, then shoves him backwards! Dace once again stumbles off the apron and falls with a thud onto the concrete! Flesher leans on the ropes and sardonically applauds the Birmingham native, who starts to slowly get to his feet.

 

“Man,” says Bobby Riley, “Today’s just not his day, is it?”

 

Dace slowly gets up, and Flesher feints toward him for a baseball slide! Dace looks up and sees the dropkick coming, so he drops to the concrete. Flesher, though, hooks the top rope and pulls himself back to his feet. As Dace gets back up off the mat, the Superior One pulls back on the upper strand and slingshots himself over the top, somersaulting at Dace and nailing him with a senton atomico! Dace collapses from the totaklly unexpected impact, and Allison Onita jumps up and down, clapping!

 

“There’s something you don’t see every day!” says Riley. “Flesher hits a slingshot senton to the outside, and puts Dace Night on the concrete!”

 

“Well, I’d hope he hit something. Dace was about ready to counter the baseball slide dropkick, and lord knows that he could pick Flesher off sliding into home.”

 

“Don’t say it…”

 

“All he’d have to do is tag Flesher’s balls.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

Flesher, slow to get up, uses the apron to drag himself to his feet. Dace sits up a moment later, but Flesher throws a sitdown dropkick that catches him in the face and sends him back to the cement floor! He grabs Dace by the arms and shouts, “Alli, go clear off the Spanish table!”

 

KJ Sanchez blanches. Allison Onita sprints toward the table, and Exploding Chicken’s eyes widen.

 

“Uh oh,” murmurs Riley…

 

KLUK…

 

KLUK…

 

¡DETONACIÓN!

 

As Pollo que Estalla murmurs that luckily, he keeps his feathers numbered for just such an occasion, Allison throws the monitors, papers and Coronas off the Spanish announce table, then shoos KJ Sanchez out of the way. Flesher grabs Dace and whips him into the guardrail next to the table. As Allison clears everything out of the way, Flesher slams the bloody-faced Dace into the guardrail, opening a fresh stream of blood in his nose. Then, he grabs Dace by the head and, with a snap, suplexes him onto the Spanish announce table! The fans begin to boo as Allison, KJ and Chicken scoot out of the way. Flesher sprints to the ring, and then quickly scales the cornerpost.

 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” beams Riley, as Flesher perches himself on the turnbuckle. He faces the crowd, looking down at Dace, and Riley says, “He’s taking risks! You’re seeing stuff out of Flesher that you haven’t seen in ages, or ever! He knows he’s got to reach deep into that bag of tricks to beat this Dace Night kid, and what makes Tom Flesher special is that he HAS that bag of tricks!”

 

“Surely, you’re not saying that simply pretending to be able to fly is worthy of a World Title shot…”

 

Flesher raises his arms into the air, looking down at Dace Night. He takes a deep breath and leaps off the buckle! He floats through the air, diving towards Dace for a flying headbutt guaranteed to put him down for the count!

 

Flashbulbs pop.

 

Fans are silent.

 

No one moves a muscle.

 

Except Dace Night.

 

*CRASH*

 

“TOM FLESHER GOES THROUGH THE SPANISH ANNOUNCE TABLE!” shouts Cyclone Comet! “DACE NIGHT MOVES! DACE NIGHT MOVES!”

 

“Oh, crap,” Riley says.

 

Dace, though, is in no shape to capitalize. Still hurting from the beating, he wipes some of the blood off his face. He squints, looking at Flesher, and nearly falls back to the concrete. Flesher lays motionless in the wreckage of the table, as the fans chant, “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” Before he can do anything, Dace leans on the guardrail, catching his breath for a few moments and surveying the damage.

 

“This match cannot end this way!” says Riley. “It would be a travesty! A miscarriage of justice! Damn it, how can you let this HAPPEN?!”

 

Dace grabs Flesher from the pile of pressboard. He limps as guides Flesher, using his singlet straps, to the ring, then rolls him in. As Flesher lays on the mat, the fans get their first glance of his bloodied face, as well as a few wounds on his chest and arms. Flesher oozes blood, and Dace Night streams it.

 

Dace rolls Flesher another foot, his own left leg dragging behind him. He gives himself room to make the cover, and then slumps down across Tom’s chest.

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

“Seven!”

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

“Eight!”

 

 

THREE!!!!!!

 

 

 

“NINE!!!!”

 

 

 

SHOULDER UP!!!!!!! The fans boo as Dace collapses, rolling off of Flesher. His black t-shirt is slick with both competitors’ blood as Flesher’s singlet starts to turn a sickening shade of purple. Dace’s red clock advances to nine, bringing the score to 9-5. Flesher, meanwhile, lays on the mat, seeming to be thrusting his shoulder off the mat again and again on reflex alone.

 

“Look at these men,” Comet says. “Neither of them is in any condition to continue, not after the beating they’ve handed each other. How can you make them go on?”

 

“Hey, Dace wants a shot at the World Title? This is his baptism by fire, baby!”

 

Dace Night gets up, pulling himself to his feet with the ropes. He reaches down, grabs Flesher by his wrists, and drags him to a corner, where he pulls him to his feet. Despite seeming to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, Dace finds the strength to prop Flesher up against the ropes, then step back. He cocks his elbow, getting ready to slam it down over Flesher’s head… and then hammers it into his opponent’s skull! Flesher slumps down, but Night grabs him by the straps again. His chest heaving, the High Priest of Horrorcore grabs another bloodied sacrifice and pulls him to his feet, then knocks him silly with a second elbow that hits so hard, Flesher’s blood sprays into the air in a mist! Flesher collapses against the turnbuckles, his eyes rolling back into his head. Dace winces, still in obvious pain. Still, he backs out of the way and pulls Flesher forward. Tom staggers out, taking one step, then another, and then flopping helplessly onto his face.

 

Dace reaches down, grabbing the impotent Flesher around the hips. The fans begin to cheer as he lifts Flesher up to his hands and knees, looking for a gutwrench suplex! Flesher sandbags ineffectually, but Night quickly takes a deep breath and hoists him off the mat! He winces, but turns Flesher, getting him up over one shoulder!

 

“Could it be?” asks Comet. “Are we about to see the Dark Star Driver? Come on, Dace! One more pin! That’s all it takes!”

 

Dace holds Flesher on his shoulder, but wobbles. Flesher flails, trying desperately to escape! He leans toward Dace’s injured left knee, then slithers a few feet down the High Priest’s back! He hooks one leg between Dace’s thighs and kicks up, hammering a low blow into his opponent’s groin! Dace collapses in pain, Flesher flops to the mat, and the crowd boos hysterically!

 

“That’s not only unethical, it’s wrong!” fumes Comet. “Flesher was this close to being spiked on his head for certain doom, and yet he rescues himself through a move that would be illegal under any normal circumstances!”

 

“This isn’t a normal match, bucko,” says Riley. “This is Canadian Death, and you better believe that Tom Flesher’s going to fight tooth and nail to slap this kid back into his midcard cage!”

 

“To get Dace off his lawn, as it were?”

 

“As it were.”

 

Flesher slowly gets to his feet and leans on the ropes, watching Dace carefully. As soon as the Hardcore Goth begins to get to his feet, Flesher jumps at him and throws a sitdown dropkick to the back of his head! Dace falls back to the mat… but so does Flesher! He lays on the mat, his facial and chest wounds still oozing red, and the edges of his singlet turning from blue to purple to black.

 

“Can either of these men finish the match?” asks Comet. “Can Dace Night fight for the cause of justice and win? Can Tom Flesher send the world spinning into a tempest of evil in a teapot of vicissitude?!”

 

Allison Onita leans on the apron and pounds the canvas, screaming, “GET UP, TOM! COME ON!” Flesher stirs, but so does Dace Night! Flesher, of course, has the upper hand, as the very slightly fresher of the two warriors. Still breathing heavily, Tom staggers to Night and grabs him. He puts all his weight into throwing Dace across the ring, sending him careening into the turnbuckles! Flesher, mustering every ounce of strength he has, charges at Dace. Dace looks over and sees him charging, but simply can’t avoid the Yakuza kick that Flesher hammers into his face! Dace collapses, and Flesher leans against the ropes. He looks up at the clocks.

 

Red, 9. Blue, 5.

 

“Tom Flesher can’t afford to get a three-count,” says Bobby Riley. “He can’t afford to be put in a position where he needs to do this all over again. That man’s body is nearly ready to give out!”

 

“But what’s he going to do that Dace Night can’t fight out of?” says Comet. “Dace is one of the toughest men ever to step into an SWF ring! How do you propose Flesher puts him down? He can’t!”

 

Flesher crouches down, grimacing in pain as he lifts Dace up, propping him against the ropes. Then, taking a deep breath, he ducks his head under Night’s arm. He hoists Dace up, atomic drop-style, and seats him on the top turnbuckle, facing the crowd. Dace slumps back, and Flesher hooks him into a torture rack.

 

The fans go silent.

 

Flesher lets out a scream as he steps to the side, throwing Dace Night headfirst to the mat! He spikes the High Priest of Horrorcore onto the crown of his head, absolutely demolishing him with the Burning Hammer!

 

*CRUNCH*

 

“BURNING HAMMER!” screams Riley. “SHADES OF TAYLOR NICHOLAS THOMPSON! FLESHER HASN’T USED IT IN ALMOST TWO YEARS!”

 

Dace slumps onto his shoulders on the canvas. Flesher lays across him, physically unable to do anymore. The referee counts…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

“Eight!”

 

FOUR!

 

“Nine!”

 

FIVE! “TEN!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

The official calls for the bell, but Flesher stays across Dace’s chest! The ref looks down at him, a puddle of blood forming under his forehead. Allison Onita sprints into the ring, offering Flesher a bottle of water and helping him to his feet. As Flesher leans on Allison, the referee raises his arm, and the sound system begins blaring “Kashmir.”

 

“Your winner,” says Funyon, “and the number-one contender to the SWF World Championship… the Superior One, TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!”

 

The crowd boos as Flesher leans on Allison, guzzling water and trying to blot his forehead to stop the bleeding.

 

“Tom Flesher picks up the win!” shills Bobby Riley. “He takes Dace Night Out once and for all with the Burning Hammer!”

 

“What does it say about these two,” says Comet, “that it took a move that Tom Flesher hasn’t taken out of mothballs since August 2002, against Ash Ketchum, to take Dace Night out? Dace Night may have lost this match, Robert, but neither man deserved to lose this series!”

 

Flesher grimaces as Dace lays on the mat, still knocked out from the Burning Hammer.

 

“If I was Danny Williams or Janus,” Riley says, “I’d be damn pleased with this match. Whoever wins that match should thank god that Tom Flesher and Dace Night both wanted the contendership that bad… because they’ve absolutely destroyed each other. They’ve made the World Champion’s job that much easier.”

 

“And who is Tom Flesher going to face?” says Comet. “We find out next… at the 13th Hour. Danny Williams defends the SWF World Championship against Janus! Is the third time the charm?”

 

Allison helps Tom Flesher down the stairs. As Tom limps toward the clock tower, the referee checks on Dace Night, and the picture fades.

[the.weej 0]

SWF 13th Hour is back on the air in three.

 

Two.

 

One.

 

"RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

SWF 13th Hour explodes back into life, as the cameras spin around the packed arena! As the swelling classic noise of Clint Mansell's "Lux Aeterna" blasts from the speakers, it's almost drowned out by the noise of the thousands upon thousands of fans in attendance! Packing the arena from ringside seast to the rafters themselves, the fans come bearing all their favourite signs. These include such classics as "Danny Williams' Time Is Up", "Sexual Maskosaurian For Life!" and side by side everyone's favourites - "Dace FUCKING Night" and "Tom FUCKING Allison". Several more signs dot the arena - some backing or mocking the Hell Machine, Janus - while others put praise on Landon Maddix and Alan Clark.

 

But all this is inconsequential as the cameras take a high-angled shot of the entire arena, showing the various timepieces littering the stage, as a flash screen comes up. On one side, Danny Williams adjusts an elbow pad, and on the other, Janus cracks his right fist into his left palm. The two wrestlers freeze in these poses, and the Hell Machine's image is temporarily pushed off to the side as the man formerly known as Deathwish takes up the screen. Information scrolls up beside the world champion, in computerised green text.

 

Name: "Deathwish" Danny Williams

Hometown: Louisville, Kentucky, United States Of America

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 243lbs

Finishers: Powerbomb, Buffalo Sleeper Hold

 

Danny Williams and his information shrink back down, and then slide off to the side as his opponent's image reappears. This time, Janus is the one to fill the screen, and the same computerised green text as before writes up information about the Hell Machine.

 

Name: "The Hell Machine" Janus

Hometown: Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Height: 7'2"

Weight: 360lbs

Finishers: ADF II, Hell Crush, Rage Unleashed

 

The image shrinks and the challenger and champion again stand side by side on the screen. With a low *whoosh* the flash screen vanishes, and we finally hear the sound of Cyclone Comet's voice, welcoming us back to the show!

 

"Citizens and fans, welcome back to the marvel that is S! W! F! 13TH HOUR! I'm CYCLLLLLOOOOONNNNE COMET here with Bobby Riley, and we're ready for the biggest and perhaps baddest match of the night! Citizen Williams, superhero that he is, takes on the Hell Machine for the biggest title in the game!"

 

"And we all know that Janus is going to wipe the floor with Danny Williams, Comet. Williams is good, but no matter what anyone does to the Hell Machine - break his leg, scramble his brain - he always keeps going until he wins!"

 

"Over a year ago, Citizen Janus faced Citizen Williams for the Intercontinental Television Title that is currently around his waist, and failed miserably. In the ring, he has never beaten Citizen Williams straight, Robert."

 

Before the ambigiously gay co-announcer can make a retort, Funyon lifts his microphone and hushes the crowd. All eyes go to the towering clock, with its ominous swinging pendulum. The clock hands click ever closer, and violins of Lux Aeterna also quietens down, as the ring announcer makes preparations to announce the match everyone has been waiting for.

 

The hand clicks over.

 

The chime rings. Not once, not twice...

 

Thirteen times.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for your MAAAAAIN EVENT!"

 

The 13th Hour is here.

 

"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

 

"The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall, and is for the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first, the challenger! He is the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation Intercontinental Television champion..."

 

All the lights in the arena go dim, prompting boos to ring from the crowd. As blurry red words smudge the Smarktron, the deep buzzing noise of an alarm fills the air. As two spotlights pirouette around the ringside area, searching, azure pyrotechnics fountain from either side of the ramp. Each fountain comes from a miniature tower clock, arranged just so down the rampway. As the blue sparks rain down on the rampway, the ominous buzzing alarm fades out only to replaced by a single, ominous gong.

 

[sTATUS: RELEASED!]

 

"Consumed with memories...

That preceded today...

Given a chance to bereave...

Life that's slipping AWAY!"

 

As Fear Factory's "Resurrection" roars out of the speakers, the crowd's boos simply get louder, almost drowning it out. The two spotlights swing around and lock onto the swinging pendulum of the tower clock, and after a pause a seven foot figure strides past the swinging pendulum! White trenchcoat wrapped around himself and ICTV title thrown over his shoulder, the figure of Janus strides out without a limp in his step, basking in the boos.

 

"...he hails from Sydney Australia! At seven-foot-two and three hundred and sixty pounds, the Hell Machine... JAAAAAANUUUUUUUUUUS!"

 

The Hell Machine's stride down the ramp is carefully measured, however, and as he passes each fountain of pyrotechnic delight it goes out. Each clock reads "13" as the spotlights follow Janus, as he stalks towards the bottom of the ramp. En route, he loosens up by cracking his neck from side to side and punching his right fist into his left palm. When the giant reaches the bottom of the ramp, he smiles darkly at referee Mark Hebner, who is already standing in the ring.

 

"Revive all my fears!

Revive wasted tears!

Revive void within!

Revive once again!"

 

With that careful stride, the Hell Machine steps around the ring to lay the Intercontinental Television title at the timekeeper's table. And with exaggerated care, the big Australian pulls off his trenchcoat and folds it up, laying it on the table as well. However, as he steps up the stairs with the spotlights following his every move, light catches on the black padding and dark steel of a knee brace. Janus steps over the top rope and into the ring, throwing his arms into the air despite the rabid boos around him.

 

*KA-BOOOOOM*

 

"Resurrection" fades out as pillars of blue flame explode from the turnbuckles, and the Hell Machine stretches his arms and leans over to tap his knee brace with a cool smile. Straightening up, he leans against one of the turnbuckles and folds his arms, watching the stage with an intent and red-eyed glare. He's waiting for the arrival of the champion himself.

 

"Janus isn't one hundred percent, Comet. That heinous beating his knee took from Johnny Dangerous last show obviously necessitated the need for that knee brace of his!"

 

"He was limping just fine on it after the show." Comet responds loftily. "To me it looks like a way to avoid the cross kneebreaker, as you can't overextend a leg that's locked into a brace."

 

"He'd never cheat like that, Comet. He obviously needs it!" Riley corrects.

 

But before the conversation can continue, the soft and melodic tune that comes out of the speakers causes the crowd to erupt into a cacopheny of cheers! The sound of In Flames' "Jester's Dance" takes all attention off the in-ring monster and onto the swinging pendulum, and the more vocal fans pick up a familiar chant as Funyon makes the announcement.

 

"DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!"

 

"And his opponent! From Louiseville Kentucky, he stands at five-foot-ten and weighs two hundred and forty three pounds!"

 

"DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!"

 

"He is the reigning Smartmarks Wrestling Federation World Heavyweight champion.... I give you....DEATHWISH! DANNY! WIIIIIIIIIIIIILLIIIAAAAAAAAAMMMS!"

 

"DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!"

 

By this time, the ovation for Williams is ear-rattling, and it devolves into monsterous cheering as the man himself finally emerges from behind the massive swinging pendulum! With the World Heavyweight title slung over his shoulder, the stocky Williams stands and surveys the fans, then stares down at the ring. His opponent simply waits with folded arms, and the champion strolls down the ramp with focused intensity before rolling under the bottom rope. Referee Mark Hebner takes the title from Danny and holds it into the air, showing everyone just what this match is about. As the referee leaves the ring to place the belt at the timekeeper's table, however, the Hell Machine steps out of his corner.

 

"And Citizen Janus might not wait for the bell!" Comet cringes.

 

"Come on, big guy, you know you can squash Danny like a bug." Riley encourages.

 

Showing no fear, Danny Williams stands toe-to-toe with his titanic opponent, his intense eyes staring up into the smouldering red glare of Janus'. Hebner slides back in and motions the two men to step back, and Williams just smiles as he does so, leaning down to pat his left knee. His seven foot foe tilts his head slightly to one side, then just rubs his throat and goatee thoughtfully, expression blank except for those evil eyes. After ensuring the two men are as ready as they'll ever be, Hebner lifts his arms and signals to the timekeeper.

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

Yet, even as the bell rings, neither man moves. Janus continues to stand with his arms folded, and Danny cracks his neck and stretches his arms. And then with a swift movement, the champion sends an elbow snapping up straight into the Hell Machine's jaw! Janus stumbles back slightly and throws his arm out for a lariat, but Williams simply ducks the swing and pops up again to snap two more quick elbow smashes into the side of the giant's face. With a growl, the Hell Machine starts to turn again, and Danny hits the ropes and comes back at a loping dash, throwing his arm out for a running elbow...

 

...but the seven foot challenger is a little bit quicker than the champion gave him credit for, and scoops Williams off the mat before SLAMMING him back down with a brutal looking high-angle spinebuster. Danny arches on the mat, clutching his spine as the Hell Machine attempts to fall on him with a huge legdrop. But Deathwish rolls back to a standing base, still holding his back, and kicks both feet out in a dropkick that takes Janus flush in the jaw. The seven foot Australian hits the mat and begins sitting right back up, only to have Williams fall on him with a flurry of elbow smashes, aimed at keeping the giant down.

 

"Citizen Williams taking advantage with what he does best, his famous elbows!" Comet calls.

 

"Anyone can bash brains in, and Janus does it better than most!" Riley snorts. "A -real- champion can outwrestle his opponent!"

 

Williams' attempted liquifying of his opponent's face with elbows is cut short as a massive right hand snaps up through the barrage to clamp like a vice around the champion's throat. Immediatley, Danny's arms shoot to his neck, and he stands up as the Hell Machine moves to a sitting position, with a snarl on his face. Squeezing his opponent's throat mercilessly, the seven footer starts to regain his vertical base, prepping his opponent for a vicious chokeslam. Unfortunately Danny has the presence of mind to sink a boot into the side of the giant's knee brace, prompting the big man to let go with a grimace. The champion immediatley takes advantage by grabbing the challenger by an arm and with a tremendous effort Irish whipping him across the ring. The Hell Machine stumbles into the ropes and bounces back, as Williams pirouettes on the spot and looks to nail his trademark rolling elbow, but he instead feels his ribs burn as the quick-thinking giant ducks and GORES him instead!

 

For the second time, Danny Williams hits the mat and feels the pain spreading through his torso. The Hell Machine stumbles onwards after the Gore, leaning down to adjust his knee brace before turning around...and reeling against the ropes in surprise as Williams pounds elbow after elbow into his chest! Clutching his ribs with one arm, the champion throws his other elbow repeatedly into the sternum of his monstrous opponent. Unfortunately, his never-say-die attitude costs him as he stops elbowing to grab one giant arm in preparation for an Irish whip. The Hell Machine immediatley fires back with a brutal headbutt that cracks into Danny's nose, sending him reeling back as the giant pivots on his good leg and FLOORS Williams with a stiff rolling lariat! The Hell Machine stands tall as the champion rolls on the canvas.

 

"Now this is what I'm talking about, Comet. The champion is reeling already, and he's got NO way of fighting back against someone of this size! He's not even smart enough to go after the leg!" Riley snorts.

 

"That brace is armoured at the front and back, I'm sure he's noticed. And it's like sleight-of-hand, Robert." Comet replies cryptically.

 

"Huh?"

 

"Make the villain look at one hand while you do something with the other."

 

With a grim smile on his face, the seven footer steps forward and wraps his left hand in Williams' hair, beginning to drag the champ upright. Danny smiles through his hair, and as he's lifted, he snaps a vicious elbow into the soft side of the Hell Machine's knee brace! Immediatley, Janus releases the champion's hair and stumbles, dropping to his good knee to check his bad one. This pause is all Williams needs to rise and pivot around for the rolling elbow, but the giant has the presence of mind to duck his head! Not missing a beat, Danny twists the other way as Janus lifts his head up, and nails a spinning reverse elbow smash to the jaw! The Hell Machine's head snaps back, and Danny locks on a... side headlock? The mixed cheers and almost querying noise from the crowd makes Williams smile. What makes him smile wider, as he cinches the headlock, is the muscular arms already rising to grab his waist. The Hell Machine begins to stand up and lift Danny into the air, but this is what the champion was waiting for.

 

Still holding the side headlock, he twists his waist to break the loose grip, and swings his body around behind the monster. This turns the headlock into a sleeper hold, and the muscular legs of the champion clamp around the challenger's waist, completing the move known as the doushime sleeper! The Hell Machine shakes his head and grabs Danny's legs, prying at the body scissors, but even the greatest strength can be sapped away by blood not getting to the brain. The fans cheer wildly for the champion's course of action, as Janus stumbles about the ring, looking for the ropes while he pries at Williams' legs. Feeling his legs already beginning to waver under him, he does the time-honoured defense against a back attack, and throws himself backwards in hopes of hitting a turnbuckle. And both superstars go backwards... and OVER the top rope, tumbling all the way to the floor!

 

"Citizen Williams trying to wear Citizen Janus down with the doushime sleeper, but the big Australian throws himself out of the ring in an attempt to break the hold!"

 

"At least the landing is favourably to everyone's favourite big man!" Riley chortles.

 

"Citizen Aecas isn't in this match, Robert."

 

"I meant Janus." the ambigiously gay one almost glares.

 

Danny is forced to release Janus as he lands square on his back, crushed between the thinly matted floor and the three hundred and sixty pound Hell Machine. The seven foot Australian rolls aside, coughing and rubbing his throat, sprawling on his stomach and trying to get his breath back. Williams barely moves, grimacing in pain and clutching at his abused torso, so as per the rules referee Mark Hebner is forced to start a ten count! As he lifts his arm to begin, the Hell Machine abruptly powers his way to his feet, unsteady and still wheezing from the effects of the doushime sleeper.

 

ONE!

 

Leaning over wrapping his hand around his opponent's face, Janus drags the woozy champion up to his feet with an iron claw-esque hold, squeezing Williams' skull. Danny simply holds his ribs, grimacing in pain.

 

TWO!

 

This makes it easy for the seven foot Australian to wrap a hand around Deathwish's throat, and grab his belt, hoisting him up in an unsteady gorilla press!

 

THREE!

 

And as Hebner hits three, Janus pumps his arms, feels his left leg quaver slightly, and THROWS Williams straight over the top rope and back into the ring to break up the count! The crowd obligatorily 'ooo's at the show of poweer, and the seven foot monster rolls under the bottom rope and back into the ring. Shaking his head and taking a breath, the Hell Machine lifts his arm into the air and wiggles his fingers, making the universal signal for the chokeslam! Crawling on the canvas, Danny grabs the Hell Machine's legs to claw his way upright... then hugs the giant's left leg and starts slamming shots into the side of the knee brace! A look of clear pain crosses Janus' face, and Williams backs off as the big man's left leg crumples underneath him... before slamming a brutal cowboy kick into the giant's stomach! A second kick hits his chest, and a third NAILS the giant in the jaw, and the Hell Machine topples over onto his back.

 

With his opponent sufficiently stunned, Danny kneels down and starts working at pulling off the Hell Machine's knee brace! Mark Hebner instantly tells the champion to back off, and reluctantly Williams does so... only to KICK the side of the giant's knee as hard as he can! This elicits a stunning, growling roar of pain from Janus, who begins sitting back up. But his opponent is no longer in front of him, and as the Hell Machine tentatively tests his left knee... he goes crashing back to the mat as Danny nails a stiff running enzui-lariat, leaping into the air to drill it into the back of the giant's neck! As a stunned Janus falls forward on his face, Williams steps on the big man's left knee joint, feeling the armoured brace under his heel. He shrugs and lifts his leg and the knee, and SLAMS both back down to the mat! Although the brace takes most of the impact, the Hell Machine growls under his breath and tries to kick Williams away with his right foot.

 

"And here we go, Robert." Comet smiles. "Citizen Williams feels he's played around long enough with Citizen Janus, and it's time to take his leg and the match."

 

"We haven't been going too long, Comet." Riley sneers. "Don't forget the punishment Janus has put on Danny's ribs so far."

 

"Oh, I haven't, Robert. I just sincerely doubt Citizen Williams will give Citizen Janus another chance, because now he's attacking his opponent's weakness."

 

"And they call ME overly confident." Riley mutters.

 

Deathwish avoids the Hell Machine's kicking leg long enough to lift the left knee and stomp-slam it back into the mat a second time. It's at this point the thick sole of Janus' boot finds Williams' ribs, and the champion stumbles back, shielding his tender ribcage with one arm while swinging his other back and forth in preparation. With ominous slowness, left leg already shaking slightly, the seven footer begins to find his base again. Hitting the ropes behind the monster, Williams takes a gamble and dives... and drives a diving elbow into the back of the giant's RIGHT knee, taking out from under him! Supported only by his weak left leg, the Hell Machine topples backwards like a tree as Williams rolls to his feet with a smile on his face.

 

Before the seven footer can attempt to sit up again, Deathwish dives forward with a plan in mind. He grabs one of the giant's legs and twirls around, before falling back and locking on a figure four! The brace prevents the Hell Machine's knee from being bent too far, but the pain is clear as the big man roars to life, slamming his hands into the mat and sitting up. Leaning back, Danny keeps his head clear of Janus' swinging arms, as the giant attempts to strike his way free. When that doesn't work, the Hell Machine plants his arms on the mat and with a tremendous roar, attempts to turn the figure four over! Despite his weak knee, the giant's body is incredibly powerful, and as Deathwish feels himself being turned over, he untangles his legs and clambers back to his feet.

 

Again standing behind the Hell Machine as the giant attempts to rise on his weakened knee, the crafty Williams hits the ropes and comes back, hoping to repeat the diving elbow that took the giant down. But Janus predicts the move, and his huge right foot mule-kicks back, sending Danny reeling and holding his ribcage. Slowly, beginning to hobble on his worked left knee, the giant turns around as Williams recovers and lunges forward with a running elbow. But a hand clamps around his throat and tears him from the ground... before SLAMMING him back down with a vicious chokeslam! The seven foot Australian drops over the torso of his opponent and hooks the leg for a pinfall attempt.

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO...KICKOUT!

 

"What was that about never getting another shot in at Danny's ribcage, Comet?"

 

"Okay, Robert, I will admit that I am blatantly against Citizen Janus winning this match."

 

"Hoorah. Now worship Janus, because that two count is a testament to his sheer power and grace."

 

Looking up at Hebner when he only gets a near two count, the Hell Machine simply smiles horribly and rises to his feet. As Danny wheezes on the mat, the seven footer stalks slowly, hobbling around the ring and waiting. When he sees the champion starting to get to his feet, Janus spreads his arms out to either side, looming up behind Williams like an angel of death. And as Deathwish regains his feet, arms wrapped around his ribs... a pair of arms wrap around HIS arms from behind, pinning them against his sides! Squeezing with all his might, the Hell Machine shakes the champion like a rabid dog as he locks on the Hell Crush! The crowd starts booing down at the ring, as Danny's cries of agony from feeling his ribs being compressed ring through the air. With astonishing quickness, the life starts to fade from the champion... and the crowd starts up with a chant to re-energise him.

 

"COME ON DAN-E!" *clap-clap clap-clap-clap*

"COME ON DAN-E!" *clap-clap clap-clap-clap*

"COME ON DAN-E!" *clap-clap clap-clap-clap*

 

But even the power of the crowd doesn't seem to be enough to revive Williams. When Deathwish stops moving in his grasp, the Hell Machine lets out a hoarse laugh and just throws the limp body down to the canvas, before staring at Hebner. Basking in the boos, the giant lifts his arms in the air as Mark Hebner crouches by the unmoving champion and lifts his arm to see if he's alive.

 

"Well, I hope Danny enjoyed warming the title, because this was over quick." Riley grins. Comet just smiles cryptically.

 

It drops once. Hebner lifts again.

 

It drops twice. The crowd has just devolved into raucous chanting, willing their world champion to get back to his feet.

 

"DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!"

 

Janus grins out at the fans... and then the referee shouts out something. Something impossible.

 

"ONLY TWO!"

 

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Riley sputters.

 

"Heroic resolve!" Comet crows gleefully.

 

"RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

 

With a snarl on his face, the Hell Machine spins around to glare ferociously at Mark Hebner as on the mat, Williams' arm is shakily suspended in the air. Completely ignoring the official, Janus storms forwards and kicks the arm back down, reaching down with both hands to grab Williams by the throat and tear him off the mat. Setting the unsteady champion on his feet, the Hell Machine spreads his arms to reapply the Hell Crush and REALLY squeeze the life out of Deathwish... who, clutching his ribs with both arms, just starts sinking stiff boots into the big man's left knee, brace or no brace! Even with the armoured padding, the blows are telling on the giant's weakened leg, and he reels backwards to avoid further punishment.

 

This gives Danny the space he needs to suck in air and regain some energy, but it's barely enough time as the Hell Machine lunges forward to flatten his opponent with a big lariat. The cagey Williams ducks under the attack, and swings behind his opponent to apply a rear waistlock. The crowd stands up as Danny heaves, feeling the pain burn through his torso, and the big Australian's feet leave the canvas as Deathwish hoists him up and over, sending him crashing down on his head with a brutal looking german suplex! For several long moments, the Hell Machine's great body balances on his neck, before just falling back down to lay prone with a loud THUD. And at the giant's feet, Danny Williams sprawls, sucking in air and feeling pain surge through his ribs. Slowly, and carefully, the champion sits up, hearing the fans still chanting his name.

 

"DAN-E!" *stomp-stomp*

"DAN-E!" *stomp-stomp*

"DAN-E!" *stomp-stomp*

 

He begins to rise to his feet, stumbling forward a little. Behind him, on the mat, the Hell Machine takes a deep breath, staring up at the lights. And then a shadow falls over him, as the battered and winded Danny Williams sets himself over the big man's chest. Pressing his knees into the giant's elbows, Deathwish keeps Janus' arms as pinned to the mat as he can, and unfolds his arms from where they're wrapped around his ribs. The seven foot Australian's bright red eyes come back into focus, zeroing in on the face of the man straddling his chest...

 

"This doesn't look good for Citizen Janus" Comet speaks almost prophetically.

 

*CRACK* *CRACK* CRACK*

 

"No kidding..." Riley whimpers.

 

...until all sense is stunned from his brain as Williams just unloads elbow smashes into the giant's head! One hard elbow gouts blood in the air as it cracks into Janus' nose, but Danny doesn't stop with his hammering shots. Through it all, the eyes of the Hell Machine remain unerringly focused on Williams' face, though there is no conscious light behind them. After slamming one hard elbow into the forehead of the monster, Danny stares down at the beast of a man who is apparently unconscious beneath him. Shifting his body, he releases the giant's arms and presses down across him laterally, hooking the big man's left leg as Mark Hebner drops down to count the pinfall attempt.

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....and Janus' right arm thrusts up off the canvas, completely on instinct!

 

"BOOOOOOOOOO!"

 

"How on EARTH did Citizen Janus kick out of that vicious assault! Citizen Williams surely scrambled his brain!" Comet sputters in surprise.

 

"Janus may be many things, but he's not a guy you can keep down that easily." Riley smiles in superiority.

 

"I don't think Citizen Janus even knows where he is..." Comet looks pensively thoughtful.

 

Shaking his head, Williams slams the arm back down to the mat, pressing his weight over the giant's torso and shoulders, keeping the bad leg hooked as he calls for Hebner to make the count again. The referee drops to the mat for a second time, but as he lifts his hands to make the count, the Hell Machine beats him to the punch by bench-pressing Danny clear off his chest! The champion rolls to the side, patting his ribs down, as next to him Janus slowly rises to a sitting position. But he doesn't stand up with an ominous grin - he slowly and carefully rises to his feet - an arm held out in front of his face as he blinks his eyes hazily. Shaking his head hard, the seven foot Australian turns to look for Danny Williams, that part of his brain that still works seeking vengeance for the trauma his head had just received.

 

As Janus turns around, Deathwish stands behind him, adjusting his elbow pad. The Hell Machine continues to around, and Williams launches into a beautiful pirouette, lifting his arm up to finally nail the devastating rolling elbow. But there's a dull *thwack*, and the crowd winces as Janus' right hand slams into Williams' extended arm with a Knuckle Bomb. Both champion and challenger stand - Williams' bent elbow pressed against the fully extended right fist of his opponents' - and they stare at each other. Danny breathes heavily with eyes focused and intense, while Janus' eyes are slightly glazed over, but the Hell Machine apparently knows where he is and stares back coldly. Both pull their arms back, and the champion rubs his elbow while Janus shakes out his hand. It's the champion who moves first, darting forward to swing his other arm up in an elbow strike...

 

"Citizen Williams on the attack!"

 

...but the Hell Machine's right knee slams into Williams' solar plexus, doubling him over.

 

"You were saying, spandex boy?"

 

Underhooking both his opponent's arms, Janus flips Danny up onto one shoulder in a Canadian backbreaker rack. Releasing the underhook, he clamps his arms around Deathwish's ribcage and squeezes, listening to the cries of pain from the champion's throat as his ribs are compressed. But then the seven footer drops to both knees, wrenching Williams' spine over his back, and both of them cry out. The Hell Machine drops Danny off his shoulder, and as the champion writhes on the mat, the challenging Australian clasps both hands to his left knee. Grimacing in pain, the monster adjusts his knee brace and takes a deep breath, before carefully rising to his full height again.

 

"The Spinal Division puts more pressure on Williams' tortured torso, but I question Citizen Janus' use of the move, as he may have aggravated his own knee injury!" Comet calls.

 

"Janus can fight through anything that happens to his knee, Comet. It was a chance he had to take, to inflict the most amount of damage."

 

"Citizen Janus has already failed to make Citizen Williams submit to the Hell Crush once already, Robert, so how will he fare in making him tap out again?"

 

Watching Danny writhe on the mat, the same thought has apparently occured to the Hell Machine. He looks down at the champion for several moments, then slices a single thumb across his throat. The agonised Williams feels himself being peeled off the mat and set over Janus' shoulder. The big Australian wraps one hand around Danny's head, the other around his waist, and SITS OUT, CRATERING DANNY INTO THE MAT WITH THE ADF II! The crowd lets the seven foot monster have it with boos, as with pain tingling through his knee, Janus rolls the corpse of Danny Williams over. He presses over the champion's chest laterally, without bothering to hook the leg, as Mark Hebner drops down to make the count.

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

.....

......

THREEEEEEEEEEKICKOUT!

 

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

 

"No! NO! How could he kick out of that!?" Riley shrieks.

 

"Citizen Janus hasn't attacked his opponent's head much, Robert. And while the ADF II is a devastating move, it alone will not put someone with the heart of Citizen Williams down!"

 

With a snarl, the Hell Machine hooks both of his opponent's legs and roars at Hebner to count again, and the intimidated official drops down to do so!

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....

.....

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEE SHOULDER UP!

 

With the repeated chanting of the crowd for the champion, as well as only getting two close falls out of a potent finishing manuver, the Hell Machine is irate. Pushing himself up with both hands, limping slightly on his bad leg, the monster stalks towards Mark Hebner. The referee backs into a corner, as Janus grabs the ropes on either side, pinning the official in. As the monster of a man roars abuse in the official's face, Danny Williams lies forgotten on the mat. The SWF World Heavyweight champion's fingers twitch. And unnoticed, his hand curls into a fist.

 

Danny Williams isn't dead yet.

 

Pain echoes through his head and burns through his ribs. Williams has suffered brutally at the hands of the Hell Machine, and his body knows that even it can't take anymore. He needs to finish the match and finish it soon, and he knows that very well. Breathing heavily, moving slowly and carefully, Deathwish crawls for the ropes, using them to carefully and cautiously pull himself upright. In the corner, he watches the Hell Machine berate Mark Hebner, and he shuffles over slightly, before running as hard as his worn body is able. Hearing the thump of footsteps, Janus turns around...and the running elbow smashes into his throat, sending him reeling back over the top rope to the floor in front of the announce table! Hebner peels himself out of the corner, inches away, as the Hell Machine lands on his feet, coughing and wheezing. Running on pure adrenaline, Danny hits the opposite ropes just as Janus looks up.

 

"ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOW SUICIIIIIIIIDAAAAAAAAAAA!" Comet shills!

 

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Riley shrieks.

 

The soaring elbow cracks brutally into the Hell Machine's forehead, sending him spinning and reeling back to slump over the announce table. Comet and Riley jump back in surprise, and sprawled and wheezing on the thin matting, Williams tries to ignore the pain surging through his body and stand up. Faintly, he can hear Mark Hebner counting in the ring, the ten count that will lead to a double disqualification.

 

ONE!!

 

Deathwish doesn't want to win by count out, this he knows. He's a fighting champion.

 

TWO!!

 

He'll beat the Hell Machine in the ring.

 

THREE!!

 

Grimacing, the battered champ pushes himself upright, vision swimming in and out of focus momentarily as the pains of his body nearly get the better of him.

 

FOUR!!

 

As Comet and Riley look on, Danny grabs the giant by the left arm and heaves, dragging him off the announce table. Supporting the monster as if he were a stablemate once more, Williams stumbles towards he ring.

 

FIVE!!

 

The weight of the Hell Machine is almost too much for Williams to bear, especially as dead weight. It shows in the champion's laboured breathing, the way he almost falls over while supporting the giant.

 

SIX!!

 

He slumps against the apron, and then with a supreme effort, lifts Janus up enough to start sliding him under the bottom rope. Hebner immediatley stops the count as Williams slides the Hell Machine into the ring, before wearily climbing up onto the apron. He stands there for a long moment, looking at the fallen monster, and then shuffles over to the turnbuckle and begins to climb.

 

"Citizen Williams going up top?" Comet queries.

 

"Guess he wants to really show up Janus or something... or make sure he'll stay down." Riley muses.

 

"That was my line, Robert."

 

"Sue me."

 

Perched precariously up on the top rope, Deathwish Danny Williams slowly rises to his full height. The cheers of the crowd ring in his ears, and he stares down to the ring far below. The great expanse of Janus' chest heaves as the monster takes in gulps of air, and Williams moves. Bunching his legs, he springs off the top rope. Soaring through the air, he twists his body and lifts one arm up, pointing his elbow straight down... and DRILLING it into the heart of the Hell Machine! The crowd roars for the beautiful top rope elbow drop, as Danny takes laboured breaths before crawling atop his opponent, and hooking the giant's left leg. Mark Hebner is as always there to count the pinfall.

 

ONE!

...

....

.....

TWO!!

...

....

.....

THREEEEEEEEEEE...SHOULDER UP!

 

Showing signs of anger, Williams slams his hands on the mat and looks up at Hebner, pleading it was a two count. But all the official does is point at the arm that is raised just enough off the mat, and Danny sighs, burying his head against his opponent's chest to hide tears of frustration. And then he pushes himself upright, staring down at the mountainous Janus, and takes about two steps back. He adjusts his elbow pad, and he waits , wiping the frustrated tears from his face. Slowly, just as he'd expected, the Hell Machine begins to sit up. As expected, the giant begins to waveringly stumble to his feet, testing his weak leg. And as expected, Janus turns around to look for his opponent.

 

This time, the pirouette is perfect.

 

This time, the Hell Machine doesn't see it coming.

 

This time, the rolling elbow SMASHES into his jaw and sends him right back down to the mat!

 

"ROOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOWAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Comet shills like he's another nationality.

 

"DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!" the crowd roars, giving their champion a standing cheer.

 

"No! No! Come on Janus! Get up! You can do it!" Riley pleads.

 

The Hell Machine simply lays on the mat, breathing heavily, eyes rolled back in his head. Danny stands over him, knowing from previous attempts that a pinfall attempt could be kicked out of, despite his best efforts. Eyes travel down the giant's body, and Williams smiles. Reaching down, surging with adrenaline, it only takes seconds for Danny's trembling hands to undo the clasps that hold Janus' knee brace in place. Before Mark Hebner can step in again, Danny pulls the brace off and exposes the Hell Machine's bad knee, and the crowd continues to cheer. He slams two stiff kicks into the exposed knee, and the seven foot Australian lets out a howl of pain with each blow, jerking on the mat. Danny grins coldly and lifts the leg high into the air for all to see.

 

As he wraps his legs around it, the crowd cheering becomes more ragged as they recognise what's coming. As Cyclone Comet stares on with the same awe as the crowd, and Bobby Riley whimpers and covers his eyes, Deathwish Danny Williams falls to the side and completes the deadly hold known as the hiza-jujigatame. Or as it was known among English speakers... the Cross Kneebreaker. Janus roars to life in a second, screaming in agony as he whips his hand off the mat, every muscle in his body trembling. Tears of pain spring to the monster's eyes as Danny wrenches back on the deadly submission hold.

 

He has no choice if he wants to keep his leg.

 

He has to tap out.

 

And so the giant's right hand whooshes down, and immediatley, Hebner is there to make Williams break the hold. The champion does so with a stunned look on his face, and sitting on the mat, the seven footer looks almost as stunned. Together the official, the champion and the challenger all look at Janus' right arm. The Hell Machine's right hand had never touched the ground. Whether out of ring smarts, blind instinct, or pure luck, the big man's hand was clasped around the bottom rope. Immediatley, the crowd let it be known what they thought of what had transpired.

 

"BULL-SHIT!" *clap-clap*

"BULL-SHIT!" *clap-clap*

"BULL-SHIT!" *clap-clap*

 

"An incredible act of luck or perhaps blind instinct saves Citizen Janus from the deadly cross kneebreaker." Comet seems almost awestruck, yet disappointed at the same time.

 

"....Yeah..." Bobby Riley is equally stunned by what has transpired in the ring.

 

As Janus continues to look at his arm, Hebner signals the match will continue. With a tired sigh, Williams moves and takes up the almost exact same position that he had stood in before, and he waits. Using the ropes as support, the Hell Machine begins to pull himself upright, his left leg trembling as he sets it on the ground. He takes two deep breaths and snarls gutturally, willing the pain to subside, as Williams once more makes adjustments to his elbow pad.

 

The champion has this. He knows it. He can feel it. As Janus turns around once more, Deathwish pirouettes around. But as his spin brings him to face the titanic Australian, one glaring error suddenly flashes into his mind.

 

The Hell Machine has longer reach. A black fingered glove fills the champion's vision as Janus' right hand strikes out at full force. This is the moment where the tide has shifted inexorably, and both champion and challenger know it. The Knuckle Bomb hits home with a horrendous crunching sound.

 

Blood flies from Danny's nose as his head snaps back at an ugly angle. His momentum carries him forward, and he barely feels the knee to the stomach that doubles him over, nor the front facelock that wraps around his head. As the Hell Machine levers Williams off the canvas with a grimacing snarl, all the blood begins to rush to the champion's head. Things seem to swim and waver before Danny's eyes, even as his position is shifted around in the air. Looking down almost detachedly, he hears the crowd go silent, and watches Janus' left leg crumple underneath him. The canvas rushes up to greet the champion's head.

 

There is no pain.

 

There is simply Rage Unleashed.

 

*CRUNCH*

 

"It's over, Bobby." Comet says softly.

 

"I know, Comet." Riley's voice is equally soft.

 

Sitting in the ring, the Hell Machine watches Danny's body balance tenuously on its head before crumpling to the mat in a heap. And as the giant leans over, dragging his left leg and pressing his body weight over Williams, gleaming red eyes stare down. An intense stare meets him for a split-second... and then Danny goes limp as the fighting spirit rushes out of him under the onslaught of unconsciousness. Tentatively, Mark Hebner drops down to check the champion's shoulders.

 

ONE.

...

....

.....

TWO.

...

....

.....

THREE.

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

 

The crowd finally livens up again, booing noisily and beginning to throw things at the ring. The Hell Machine simply rolls off the body of Danny Williams, sitting in the squared circle as Mark Hebner slides out of the ring.

 

"Citizen Janus has done it, Robert. He's beaten the might of Citizen Williams and risen to the top of the business. The fans see this as quite an upset, I'd imagine."

 

"I'd agree, Comet. But I have to back Janus here. He fought strong and hard and by GOD did he win that match decisively!"

 

A deep gong sounds over the arena as Fear Factory's "Resurrection" bursts into life, and under the boos from the crowd, Funyon's voice can be heard, ringing with a quavering tone in it over the fans.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, your WINNER....and NEEEEEEEEEEEW Smartmarks Wrestling Federation WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAAAAAAAMPIIIIIIIION...the Hell Machine... JAAAAAAAAAAANUUUUUUUUUUUUS!"

 

"All that I know!

There was no God for me!

Force that shatters all!

Absence of humanity!"

 

The Hell Machine rolls slowly out of the ring, left knee nearly crumpling underneath him as he leans on the apron. Pushing black-and-white hair from his face, Janus' gleaming red eyes look down at Mark Hebner as he holds out the World Heavyweight championship. Taking the title carefully in both hands, the giant Australian looks down at the gold and then with ominous finality lifts it high above his head. The booing simply intensifies, but the giant ignores it, limping to the timekeeper's table. He lays the World Heavyweight title back down, and picks up his trenchcoat. After throwing it around his shoulders, he looks at the gold before him.

 

Intercontinental Television champion.

 

World Heavyweight champion.

 

Moments later, the giant rolls back into the ring with both straps in his hands. Standing over the fallen Danny Williams, left leg seemingly about to collapse underneath him, the Hell Machine finally smiles. Grimly grinning from ear to ear, he holds both his title belts above his head, and with a loud *BOOM* blue fire explodes from the turnbuckles! The lights all go out, and a single spotlight illuminates the titanic figure in the ring. The cameras zoom in on the two titles.

 

"God only knows where the SWF will go from here, Robert, but with Citizen Janus at the top, I have to truly wonder..."

 

"We're heading into a time of chaos and madness, Comet. And with this psychopath at the helm, good times will be had by all!"

 

Riley sounds less than convinced, as the cameras focus on the two titles above Janus' head, and the ear-splitting evil grin stamped across his features. Not even moving despite the pain in his leg, the Hell Machine tosses his hair back from his face. The time of Danny Williams was well and truely over.

 

"Revive all my fears!

Revive wasted tears!

Revive void within!

Revive once again!"

 

And his time... was just beginning.

 

No one could stop him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But they could try....

 

*****

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation

SWF 13th Hour 2004

Applewhite Productions Ltd.

*****

[the.weej 0]

Too long. TOOOOOOOO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG. And we're MISSING a match!

 

Oof.

 

But yeah, it's a good show. I'd suggest reading it all, but that might not be healthy.

 

Next card will be a promo show, so don't wait up on it or anything. Ye have earned it!

 

Now I'm going to go collapse in a corner somewhere. Too much reading for one night.

 

-Z